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diff --git a/old/55071-0.txt b/old/55071-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 99a763c..0000000 --- a/old/55071-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8019 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Captivity of the Oatman Girls, by Royal B. Stratton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Captivity of the Oatman Girls - Being an Interesting Narrative of Life Among the Apache - and Mohave Indians - -Author: Royal B. Stratton - -Release Date: July 8, 2017 [EBook #55071] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTIVITY OF THE OATMAN GIRLS *** - - - - -Produced by Cindy Horton and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - -[Illustration: OLIVE OATMAN.] - - - - - CAPTIVITY - - OF THE - - OATMAN GIRLS: - - BEING AN - - Interesting Narrative of Life - - AMONG THE - - APACHE AND MOHAVE INDIANS. - - CONTAINING - - AN INTERESTING ACCOUNT OF THE MASSACRE OF THE OATMAN FAMILY, BY THE - APACHE INDIANS, IN 1851; THE NARROW ESCAPE OF LORENZO D. OATMAN; - THE CAPTURE OF OLIVE A. AND MARY A. OATMAN; THE DEATH, BY - STARVATION, OF THE LATTER; THE FIVE YEARS’ SUFFERING AND - CAPTIVITY OF OLIVE A. OATMAN; ALSO, HER SINGULAR RECAPTURE - IN 1856; AS GIVEN BY LORENZO D. AND OLIVE A. - OATMAN, THE ONLY SURVIVING MEMBERS OF THE - FAMILY, TO THE AUTHOR, - - R. B. STRATTON. - - TWENTIETH THOUSAND. - - New-York: - - PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR, - - BY CARLTON & PORTER, 200 MULBERRY-STREET. - - FOR SALE BY INGHAM & BRAGG, 67 SUPERIOR-ST., CLEVELAND, O. - - 1858. - - - - - Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, by - - LORENZO D. OATMAN, - - in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court - of the Northern District of the - State of California. - - - - -PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. - - -During the year 1851 news reached California, that in the spring of -that year a family by the name of OATMAN, while endeavoring to reach -California by the old Santa Fe route, had met with a most melancholy -and terrible fate, about seventy miles from Fort Yuma. That while -struggling with every difficulty imaginable, such as jaded teams, -exhaustion of their stores of provisions, in a hostile and barren -region, alone and unattended, they were brutally set upon by a horde -of Apache savages; that seven of the nine persons composing their -family were murdered, and that two of the smaller girls were taken into -captivity. - -One of the number, LORENZO D. OATMAN, a boy about fourteen, who was -knocked down and left for dead, afterward escaped, but with severe -wounds and serious injury. - -But of the girls, MARY ANN and OLIVE ANN, nothing had since been heard, -up to last March. By a singular and mysteriously providential train of -circumstances, it was ascertained at that time, by persons living at -Fort Yuma, that one of these girls was then living among the Mohave -tribe, about four hundred miles from the fort. A ransom was offered -for her by the ever-to-be-remembered and generous Mr. GRINELL, then a -mechanic at the fort; and through the agency and tact of a Yuma Indian, -she was purchased and restored to civilized life, to her brother and -friends. The younger of the girls, MARY ANN, died of starvation in 1852. - -It is of the massacre of this family, the escape of LORENZO, and the -captivity of the two girls, that the following pages treat. - -A few months since the author of this book was requested by the -afflicted brother and son, who barely escaped with life, but not -without much suffering, to write the past history of the family; -especially to give a full and particular account of the dreadful and -barbarous scenes of the captivity endured by his sisters. This I have -tried to do. The facts and incidents have been received from the -brother and sister, now living. - -These pages have been penned under the conviction that in these facts, -and in the sufferings and horrors that befell that unfortunate family, -there is sufficient of interest, though of a melancholy character, -to insure an attentive and interested perusal by every one into -whose hands, and under whose eye this book may fall. Though, so far -as book-making is concerned, there has been brought to this task no -experience or fame upon which to base an expectation of its popularity, -yet the writer has sought to adapt the style to the character of the -narrative, and in a simple, plain, comprehensive manner to give to -the reader facts, as they have been received from those of whose sad -experiences in adversity these pages give a faithful delineation. In -doing this he has sought plainness, brevity, and an unadorned style, -deeming these the only excellences that could be appropriately adopted -for such a narrative; the only ones that he expects will be awarded. -It would be but a playing with sober, solemn, and terrible reality -to put the tinselings of romance about a narrative of this kind. The -_intrinsic_ interest of the subject-matter here thrown together, must -have the credit of any circulation that shall be given to the book. -Upon this I am willing to rely; and that it will be sufficient to -procure a wide and general perusal, remunerating and exciting, I have -the fullest confidence. As for criticisms, while there will, no doubt, -be found occasions for them, they are neither coveted nor dreaded. All -that is asked is, that the reader will avail himself of the _facts_, -and dismiss, as far as he can, the garb they wear, for it was not woven -by one who has ever possessed a desire to become experienced or skilled -in that ringing, empty style which can only charm for the moment, and -the necessity for which is never felt but when real matter and thought -are absent. - -That all, or any considerable portion, of the distress, mental and -physical, that befell that unfortunate family, the living as well -as dead, can be written or spoken, it would be idle to claim. The -desolation and privation to which little MARY ANN was consigned while -yet but seven years old; the abuse, the anguish, the suffering that -rested upon the nearly two years’ captivity through which she passed -to an untimely grave; the unutterable anguish that shrouded with the -darkness of despair five years of her older sister; the six years of -perpetual tossing from transient hope to tormenting fears, and during -which unceasing toil and endeavor was endured by the elder brother, -who knew at that time, and has ever since known, that two of his -sisters were taken into captivity by the Indians; these, all these are -realities that are and must forever remain unwritten. We would not, if -we could, give to these pages the power to lead the reader into all -the paths of torture and woe through which the last five years have -dragged that brother and sister, who yet live, and who, from hearts -disciplined in affliction, have herein dictated all of what they have -felt that can be transferred to the type. We would not, if we could, -recall or hold up to the reader the weight of parental solicitude or -heart-yearnings for their dear family that crowded upon the last few -moments of reason allowed to those fond parents, while in the power -and under the war-clubs of their Apache murderers. The heart’s deepest -anguish, and its profoundest emotions have no language. There is no -color so deep that pen dipped therein can portray the reality. If what -may be here found written of these unspoken woes shall only lead the -favored subjects of constant good fortune to appreciate their exempted -allotment, and create in their hearts a more earnest and practical -sympathy for those who tread the damp, uncheered paths of suffering and -woe, then the moral and social use prayed for and intended in these -pages will be secured. - - YREKA, 1857. R. B. STRATTON. - - - - -PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. - - -Since issuing the first edition of the “CAPTIVITY OF THE OATMAN GIRLS,” -which obtained a rapid and quick sale, the author has been in the -northern part of the state, busy with engagements made previous to its -publication, and which he considered he had ample time to meet, and -return before another edition would be called for, if at all. But in -this he was mistaken. Only two weeks had elapsed before orders were in -the city for books, that could not be filled; and that but a few days -after the whole edition was bound. The first five thousand was put out -as an experiment, and with considerable abridgment from the original -manuscript as at first prepared. Considerable matter referring to the -customs of the Indians, and the geography and character of the country, -was left out to avoid the expense of publishing. Could we have known -that the first edition would have been exhausted so soon, this omitted -matter might have been re-prepared and put into this edition, but the -last books were sold when the author was five hundred miles from -his present home, and on returning it was thought best to hurry this -edition through the press, to meet orders already on hand. We trust the -reader will find most, if not all, of the objectionable portions of the -first edition expunged from this; besides the insertion in their proper -places of some additions that were, without intention, left out of the -former one. He will also find this printed upon superior paper and -type; and in many ways improved in its appearance. - -We must remind the reader, that in preparing a work like the present -there is an utter impropriety in resorting to any other than the -plainest matter-of-fact style. This book is not a romance. It is not -dependent upon an exorbitant fictitiousness of expression for enlisting -the attention or interest of the sober reader. The _scene_ is a -reality. The _heroes_ of the tale are living. Let those, if any there -are, to whom _reality_ is a serious obstacle to engaged and sustained -attention and interest, and whose morbidly created taste, has given -a settled disrelish for marvels _in the facts_, while it unceasingly -clamors for miracles of the fancy; to whom plain things, said in a -plain way, have no attraction, whose reading heaven is a mountain of -epithet on flashing epithet piled--let such lay aside the book. - -The writer does not disclaim literary taste. Such a taste it is -confidently felt is not herein violated. For _its display_ these pages -are not intended. These remarks are here penned for the reason that -in a few instances, instead of an open criticism, founded upon the -reading of the book, there has been a construing of the frank avowal -of the _real intention_ of this book, made in a former preface, into a -confession of a literary weakness in the composition of this work. The -writer for the last eleven years has been engaged in public speaking, -and though moving contentedly in an humble sphere, is not without -_living_ testimonials to his _diligence_ and _fidelity_, at least -in application to those literary studies and helps to his calling -which were within his reach. With a present consciousness of many -imperfections in this respect, he is nevertheless not forbidden by a -true modesty to say, that in a laudable ambition to acquire and command -the _pure English, from the root upward_, he has not been wholly -negligent nor unsuccessful; nor in the habit of earnest and particular -observation of men and things has he been without his note-book and -open eyes. - -During the years spoken of he has seldom appeared before the public -without a carefully written compendium, and often a full manuscript of -the train of thought to be discoursed upon. - -But still, if his attainments were far more than are here claimed, it -would by some be judged a poor place to use them for the feasting of -the reader of a book of the nature of this record of murder, wailing, -captivity, and horrid separations. - -The notices in the papers referred to have, no doubt, grown from a -habit that prevails to a great extent, of writing a notice of a new -book from a hasty glance at a preface. Hence, he who can gyrate in a -brilliant circle of polished braggadocio in his first-born, is in a -fair way to meet the echo of his own words, and be “_puffed!_” - -But, unpretending as are these pages, the author, in his own behalf, -and in behalf of those for and of whom he writes, is under many -obligations to the press of the State. In many instances a careful -perusal has preceded a public printed notice by an editor; and with -some self-complacency he finds that such notices have been the most -flattering and have done most to hasten the sale of these books. - -The author, still making no pretensions to a serving up of a repast for -the literary taste, yet with confidence assures the reader that he will -find nothing upon these pages that can offend such a taste. - -Let it be said further, that the profits accruing from the sale of this -work are, so far as the brother and sister are concerned, to be applied -to those who need help. It was with borrowed means that Mr. Oatman -published the first edition, and it is to secure means to furnish -himself and his sister with the advantages of that education which has -been as yet denied, that the narrative of their five years’ privation -is offered to the reading public. Certainly, if the eye or thought -delights not to wander upon the page of their sufferings, the heart -will delight to think of means expended for the purchase of the book -that details them. - -SAN FRANCISCO, 1857. - - - - -PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. - - -The second edition of this book (six thousand copies) was nearly -exhausted in the California and Oregon trade within a few months -after its publication. Numerous friends and relatives of Mr. and Miss -Oatman, who had received copies of the work from friends in California, -wrote to the writer, and also to the Oatmans, urgently requesting its -publication for circulation in the Atlantic and Western States. - -They had read the book, and loaned it to neighbors and friends, until -each copy numbered a considerable circle of readers, and an almost -unanimous opinion had been expressed that the book would meet with -a large and ready sale if it could be put into the market at prices -ruling on this side of the continent. - -In behalf of those for whose special benefit the book is published, the -writer can but feel grateful for the large sales that in a few weeks -were effected in California. Eleven thousand were sold there in a short -time, and the owner of the book has deeply regretted that it was not -stereotyped at the first. - -Recently, to meet demands for the book already existing, especially in -some of the Western States, where the Oatman family were well known, -it was resolved to publish the book in New-York, in an improved style, -and with the addition of some incidents that were prepared for the -California issue, but omitted from the necessity of the case. - -The reader will find the book much improved in its intrinsic interest -by the addition of these geographical, traditional, and historic -items. The matter added is chiefly of the peculiar traditions and -superstitions of the tribes who were the captors and possessors of Miss -Oatman. Three new illustrations are also added, and the old ones newly -drawn and engraved. Every plate has been enlarged, and the work done in -a much improved and more perfect style. - -The reader will find this book to be a record of _facts_; and these -are of the most thrilling, some of them of the most horrid nature. Of -all the records of Indian captivities we feel confident none have -possessed more interest than this. Numerous have been the testimonies -from California readers that it exceeds any of kindred tales that -have preceded it. The Oatman family were well and favorably known -in portions of Illinois and Pennsylvania, and a large circle of -acquaintances are waiting, with much anxiety, the issue from the -press of this narrative of the tragical allotment that they met after -starting for the Colorado in 1850. Seven of their number have fallen by -the cruelties of the Indian; two, a brother and sister, are now in this -city. - -There are sketches and delineations in this volume touching the region -lying to the West and Southwest, as also of the large aboriginal tribes -that have so long held exclusive possession there, which, in these -times of the unparalleled westward-pushing propensities of our people, -are clothed with new and startling interest day by day. - -In the purchase of this book the reader will add to his private or -family library a volume whose chief attraction will not be merely -in the detail of horrors, of suffering, of cruel captivity, which -it brings to him; but one which his children will find valuable for -reference in the years they may live to see, and which are to be -crowded, doubtless, with an almost total revolution in the humanities -that people the region lying between the Pacific and Texas, and between -Oregon and Mexico. These dark Indian tribes are fast wasting before the -rising sun of our civilization; and into _that history_ that is yet -_to be written_ of their past, and of their destiny, and of the many -interlacing events that are to contribute to the fulfilling of the wise -intent of Providence concerning them and their only dreaded foe, the -white race, facts and incidents contained in this unpretending volume -will enter and be appreciated. - - R. B. STRATTON. - -NEW-YORK, _April, 1858_. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER I. - - The first Encampment--The Oatman Family--Their checkered - Allotment up to the Time of their Emigration--Mr. Oatman--His - Ill-health--Proposes to join the Party organized to form an - American Colony near the Gulf of California, in 1849--The 10th - of August--Discord in Camp, owing to the religious Prejudices of - a few--First Danger from Indians--The Camanche Band--Two Girls - taken for “Injins”--The Grape Dumpling--Mexican Settlements--The - Hunt for Antelopes, and its tragical End--Charles refuses to fight - “Injins” with Prayer--Moro--Scarcity of Provisions--Discontent - and Murmurings--Mr. Lane--His Death--Loss of Animals by the - Apaches--Mrs. M. in the Well--Santa Cruz and Tukjon--Some of the - Company remain here--Pimole--The only traveling Companions of - the Oatman Family resolve to remain--Mr. Oatman, in Perplexity, - resolves to proceed PAGE 21 - - - CHAPTER II. - - Mr. and Mrs. Oatman in Perplexity--Interview with Dr. - Lecount--Advises them to proceed--They start alone--Teams - begin to fail--The Roads are bad--The Country rough and - mountainous--Compelled to carry the Baggage up the Hills by - Hand--Overtaken by Dr. Lecount on his way to Fort Yuma--He promises - them Assistance from the Fort--The next Night the Horses of Dr. - Lecount are stolen by the Apaches--He posts a Card, warning Mr. - Oatman of Danger, and starts on Foot for the Fort--Reach the Gila - River--Camp on the Island late at Night--Their dreary Situation, - and the Conversation of the Children--The Morning of the 29th of - March--Their Struggle to ascend the Hill on the 29th--Reach the - Summit about Sunset--The Despondence and Presentiments of Mr. - Oatman--Nineteen Apaches approach them Profess Friendliness--The - Massacre--Lorenzo left for dead, but is preserved--The Capture of - Olive and Mary Ann 61 - - - CHAPTER III. - - Lorenzo Oatman--Conscious of most of the Scenes of the Massacre--The - next Day he finds himself at the Foot of a rocky Declivity, - over which he had fallen--Makes an Effort to walk--Starts for - Pimole--His Feelings and Sufferings--Is attacked by Wolves--Then - by two Indians, who are about to shoot him down--Their subsequent - Kindness--They go on to the Place of Massacre--He meets the - Wilders and Kellys--They take him back to Pimole--In about one - Month gets well, and starts for Fort Yuma--Visits the Place of - Massacre--His Feelings--Burial of the Dead--Reflections--The - two Girls--Their Thoughts of Home and Friends--Conduct of their - Captors--Disposition of the Stock--Cruelty to the Girls to hurry - them on--Girls resolve not to proceed--Meet eleven Indians, - who seek to kill Olive--Reasons for--Apaches defend her--Their - Habits of Fear for their own Safety--Their Reception at the - Apache Village--One Year--The Mohaves--Their second coming among - the Apaches--Conversation of Olive and Mary--Purchased by the - Mohaves--Avowed Reasons--Their Price--Danger during the Debate 90 - - - CHAPTER IV. - - The Journey of three hundred and fifty Miles to the Mohave - Valley--The Means of Subsistence during the Time--The Conduct of - the Mohaves compared with the Apaches--Arrive at the Valley--The - Village--The Chief’s Residence--Their Joy at the Return of Topeka, - their Daughter--The Greeting of the new Captives--One Year of Labor - and Suffering--The Overflowing of the Colorado--Their Dependence - upon it--Their Habits--Cultivation of the Soil--Scarcity of - Provisions--Starvation--Mary Ann--Her Decline--Olive’s Care, Grief, - and Efforts to save her Life--Dies of Famine--Many of the Indian - Children die--Burial of Mary Ann--The Sympathy and Sorrow of the - Chief’s Wife--The great Feast--The killing of the two Captives as a - Sacrifice 160 - - - CHAPTER V. - - The Mohaves--Their Sports--An Expedition of Hostility against - the Cochopas--Its Design--Tradition concerning it--The - Preparation--Their Custom of sacrificing a Prisoner on the Death - in War of one of their own Number--The Anxiety of Olive--They - depart--Their Return--The Fruit of the Expedition--The Five Cochopa - Captives--Nowereha--Her Attempt to escape--Her Recapture and - horrid Death--The Physicians--Evil Spirits--The Mohave Mode of - Doctoring--The Yumas--“Francisco,” the Yuma Indian--Hopes of Escape - 216 - - - CHAPTER VI. - - Lorenzo Oatman--His Stay at Fort Yuma--Goes with Dr. Hewit to San - Francisco--His constant Misery on Account of his Sisters--Dark - Thoughts--Cold Sympathy--Goes to the Mines--Resolves to go to Los - Angeles to learn, if possible, of his Sisters--His earnest but - fruitless Endeavors--The Lesson--Report brought by Mr. Roulit of - two Captives among the Mohaves--The false Report of Mr. Black--Mr. - Grinell--Petitions the Governor--Petitions Congress--The Report of - the Rescue of Olive--Mr. Low 238 - - - CHAPTER VII. - - Francisco goes over the River, and spends the Night--Persuades - some of the Sub-Chiefs to apply again for Permission to let - Olive go free--His Threats--The Chiefs return with him--Secret - Council--Another General Council--Danger of a Fight among - themselves--Francisco has a Letter from the Whites--Olive - present--Francisco gains Permission to give her the Letter--Its - Contents--Much alarmed--Speeches of the Indians--Advice to kill - their Captive--Determine to release her--Daughter of the Chief goes - with them--Their Journey--At Fort Yuma 251 - - -Illustrations. - - PAGE - - Portrait of Olive Oatman 2 - Map 20 - First Night’s Encampment 24 - The Massacre Vide 85 - Lorenzo returning to the Place of Massacre 99 - Lorenzo attacked by Coyotes and Wolves 102 - Lorenzo rescued by friendly Indians 105 - The Captives at the Indian Camp-Fire 119 - Attempt to shoot Olive and Mary Ann 129 - Reception of the two Girls at the Apache Village 133 - Indian skulking to hear the Conversation of the Girls 155 - Death of Mary Ann at the Indian Camp 195 - Horrid Death of the Indian Captive 229 - Olive at the Indian Council 258 - Arrival of Olive at Fort Yuma 273 - Portrait of Lorenzo Oatman Vide 278 - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -CAPTIVITY OF THE OATMAN GIRLS. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - The first Encampment--The Oatman Family--Their checkered - Allotment up to the Time of their Emigration--Mr. Oatman--His - Ill-health--Proposes to join the Party organized to form an - American Colony near the Gulf of California, in 1849--The 10th - of August--Discord in Camp, owing to the religious Prejudices of - a few--First Danger from Indians--The Camanche Band--Two Girls - taken for “Injins”--The Grape Dumpling--Mexican Settlements--The - Hunt for Antelopes, and its tragical End--Charles refuses to fight - “Injins” with Prayer--Moro--Scarcity of Provisions--Discontent - and Murmurings--Mr. Lane--His Death--Loss of Animals by the - Apaches--Mrs. M. in the Well--Santa Cruz and Tukjon--Some of the - Company remain here--Pimole--The only traveling Companions of - the Oatman Family resolve to remain--Mr. Oatman, in Perplexity, - resolves to proceed. - - -The 9th of August, 1850, was a lovely day. The sun had looked upon -the beautiful plains surrounding Independence, Missouri, with a full, -unclouded face, for thirteen hours of that day; when, standing about -four miles south of westward from the throbbing city of Independence, -alive with the influx and efflux of emigrant men and women, the reader, -could he have occupied that stand, might have seen, about one half -hour before sunset, an emigrant train slowly approaching him from the -city. This train consisted of about twenty wagons, a band of emigrant -cattle, and about fifty souls, men, women, and children. Attended by -the music of lowing cattle, and the chatter of happy children, it was -slowly traversing a few miles, at this late hour of the day, to seek -a place of sufficient seclusion to enable them to hold the first and -preparatory night’s camp away from the bustle and confusion of the town. - -Just as the sun was gladdening the clear west, and throwing its golden -farewells upon the innumerable peaks that stretched into a forest -of mountains gradually rising until they seemed to lean against the -sun-clad shoulders of the Rocky Range, imparadising the whole plain and -mountain country in its radiant embrace, the shrill horn of the leader -and captain suddenly pealed through the moving village, a circle was -formed, and the heads of the several families were in presence of the -commander, waiting orders for the camping arrangements for the night. - -Soon teams were detached from the wagons, and with the cattle (being -driven for commencement in a new country) were turned forth upon the -grass. Rich and abundant pasturage was stretching from the place of -their halt westward, seemingly until it bordered against the foot-hills -of the Indian territory in the distance. - -Among the fifty souls that composed that emigrant band, some were total -strangers. Independence had been selected as the gathering-place of -all who might heed a call that had been published and circulated for -months, beating up for volunteers to an emigrant company about seeking -a home in the Southwest. It was intended, as the object and destination -of this company, to establish an American colony near the mouth of the -Gulf of California. Inducements had been held out, that if the region -lying about the juncture of the Colorado and Gila Rivers could thus be -colonized, every facility should be guaranteed the colonists for making -to themselves a comfortable and luxuriant home. - -After a frugal meal, served throughout the various divisions of the -camp, the evening of the 9th was spent in perfecting regulations for -the long and dangerous trip, and in the forming of acquaintances, and -the interchange of salutations and gratulations. - -Little groups, now larger and now smaller, by the constant moving -to and fro of members of the camp, had chatted the evening up to -a seasonable bedtime. Then, at the call of the “crier,” all were -collected around one camp-fire for the observance of public worship, -which was conducted by a clergyman present. Into that hour of earnest -worship were crowded memories of the home-land and friends _now_ -forever abandoned for a settlement in the “far-off Southwest.” There -flowed and mingled the tear of regret and of hope; there and then -rose the earnest prayer for Providential guidance; and at that hour -there swelled out upon the soft, clear air of as lovely an evening -as ever threw its star-lit curtain upon hill and vale, the song of -praise and the shout of triumph, not alone in the prospect of a home -by the Colorado of the South, but of glad exultation in the prospect -of a home hard by the “River of Life,” which rose to view as the -final termination of the journeyings and toil incident to mortality’s -pilgrimage. - -[Illustration: FIRST NIGHT’S ENCAMPMENT.] - -Now the hush of sleep’s wonted hour has stolen slowly over the entire -encampment, and nothing without indicates remaining life, save the -occasional growl of the ever-faithful watch-dog, or the outburst of -some infant member of that villa-camp, wearied and worn, and overtasked -by the hurry and bustle of the previous day. - -Reader, we now wish you to go with us into that camp, and receive an -introduction to an interesting family consisting of father, mother, and -seven children; the oldest of this juvenile group a girl of sixteen, -the youngest a bright little boy of one year. Silence is here, but -to that household sleep has no welcome. The giant undertaking upon -which they are now fairly launched is so freighted with interest to -themselves and their little domestic kingdom, as to leave no hour -during the long night for the senses to yield to the soft dominion -of sleep. Besides, this journey now before them has been preceded by -lesser ones, and these had been so frequent and of such trivial result -as that vanity seemed written upon all the deep and checkered past, -with its world of toil and journeyings. In a subdued whisper, but with -speaking countenances and sparkling eyes, these parents are dwelling -upon this many-colored by-gone. - -Mr. Oatman is a medium-sized man, about five feet in height, black -hair, with a round face, and yet in the very prime of life. Forty-one -winters had scarcely been able to plow the first furrow of age upon -his manly cheek. Vigorous, healthy, and of a jovial turn of mind, -predisposed to look only upon the bright side of everything, he was -happy; of a sanguine temperament, he was given to but little fear, and -seemed ever drinking from the fresh fountains of a living buoyant hope. -From his boyhood he had been of a restless, roving disposition, fond of -novelty, and anxious that nothing within all the circuit of habitable -earth should be left out of the field of his ever curious and prying -vision. - -He had been favored with rare educational advantages during his -boyhood, in Western New-York. These advantages he had improved with a -promising vigilance until about nineteen years of age. He then became -anxious to see, and try his fortune in, the then far away West. The -thought of emigrating had not been long cogitated by his quick and -ready mind, ere he came to a firm resolution to plant his feet upon one -of the wild prairies of Illinois. - -He was now of age, and his father and mother, Lyman and Lucy Oatman, -had spent scarcely one year keeping hotel in Laharpe, Illinois, ere -they were joined by their son Royse. - -Soon after going to Illinois, Royse was joined in marriage to Miss -Mary Ann Sperry, of Laharpe. Miss Sperry was an intelligent girl of -about eighteen, and, by nature and educational advantages, abundantly -qualified to make her husband happy and his home an attraction. She -was sedate, confiding, and affectionate, and in social accomplishments -placed, by her peculiar advantages, above most of those around her. -From childhood she had been the pride of fond and wealthy parents; and -it was their boast that she had never merited a rebuke for any wrong. -The first two years of this happy couple was spent on a farm near -Laharpe. During this time some little means had been accumulated by an -honest industry and economy, and these means Mr. Oatman collected, and -with them embarked in mercantile business in Laharpe. - -Honesty, industry, and a number of years of thorough business -application, won for him the esteem of those around him, procured a -comfortable home for his family, and placed him in possession of a -handsome fortune, with every arrangement for its rapid increase. At -that time the country was rapidly filling up; farmers were becoming -rich, and substantial improvements were taking the place of temporary -modes of living which had prevailed as yet. - -Paper money became plenty, the products of the soil had found a ready -and remunerative market, and many were induced to invest beyond their -means in real estate improvements. - -The banks chartered about the years 1832 and 1840, had issued bills -beyond their charters, presuming upon the continued rapid growth of the -country to keep themselves above disaster. But business, especially -in times of speculation, like material substance, is of a gravitating -tendency, and without a basis soon falls. A severe reverse in the -tendency of the markets spread rapidly over the entire West during the -year 1842. Prices of produce fell to a low figure. An abundance had -been raised, and the market was glutted. Debts of long standing became -due, and the demand for their payment became more imperative, as the -inability of creditors became more and more apparent and appalling. -The merchant found his store empty, his goods having been credited to -parties whose sole reliance was the usual ready market for the products -of their soil. - -Thus, dispossessed of goods and destitute of money, the trading portion -of community were thrown into a panic, and business of all kinds came -to a stand-still. The producing classes were straitened; their grain -would not meet current expenses, for it had no market value; and with -many of them mortgages, bearing high interest, were preying like -vultures upon their already declining realities. - -Specie was scarce. Bills were returned to the banks, and while a great -many of them were yet out the specie was exhausted, and a general crash -came upon the banks, while the country was yet flooded with what was -appropriately termed “the wild-cat money.” The day of reckoning to -these spurious money fountains suddenly weighed them in the balances -and found them wanting. Mr. Oatman had collected in a large amount -of this paper currency, and was about to go South to replenish his -mercantile establishment, when lo! the banks began to fail, and in a -few weeks he found himself sunk by the weight of several thousands into -utter insolvency. - -He was disappointed but not disheartened. To him a reverse was the -watchword for a renewal of energy. For two or three years he had -been in correspondence with relatives residing in Cumberland Valley, -Pennsylvania, who had been constantly holding up that section of -country as one of the most inviting and desirable for new settlers. - -In a few weeks he had disposed of the fragments of a suddenly shattered -fortune to the greatest possible advantage to his creditors, and -resolved upon an immediate removal to that valley. In two months -preparations were made, and in three months, with a family of five -children, he arrived among his friends in Cumberland Valley, with a -view of making that a permanent settlement. - -True to the domineering traits of his character, he was still resolute -and undaunted. His wife was the same trusting, cheerful companion as -when the nuptial vow was plighted, and the sun of prosperity shone full -upon and crowned their mutual toils. Retired, patient, and persevering, -she was a faithful wife and a fond mother, in whom centered deservingly -the love of a growing and interesting juvenile group. She became -more and more endeared to her fortune-taunted husband as adverse -vicissitudes had developed her real worth, and her full competence to -brave and profit by the stern battles of life. - -She had seen her husband when prospered, and flattered by those whose -attachments had taken root in worldly considerations only; she had -stood by him also when the chilling gusts of temporary adversity had -blown the cold damps of cruel reserve and fiendish suspicion about his -name and character; and - - “When envy’s sneer would coldly blight his name, - And busy tongues were sporting with his fame, - She solved each doubt, and clear’d each mist away, - And made him radiant in the face of day.” - -They had spent but a few months in Pennsylvania, the place of their -anticipated abode for life, ere Mr. Oatman found it, to him, an unfit -and unsuitable place, as also an unpromising region in which to rear a -family. He sighed again for the wide, wild prairie lands of the West. -He began to regret that a financial reversion should have been allowed -so soon to drive him from a country where he had been accustomed -to behold the elements and foundation of a glorious and prosperous -future; and where those very religious and educational advantages--to -him the indispensable accompaniments of social progress--were already -beginning to shoot forth in all the vigor and promise of a healthful -and undaunted growth. He was not of that class who can persist in -an enterprise merely from pride that is so weak as to scorn the -confession of a weakness; though he was slow to change his purpose, -only as a good reason might discover itself under the light and -teachings of multiplying circumstances around him. - -He resolved to retrace his steps, and again to try his hands and skill -upon some new and unbroken portion of the State where he had already -_made_ and _lost_. Early in 1845 these parents, with a family of five -children, destitute but courageous, landed in Chicago. There, for one -year, they supported with toil of head and hand (the father was an -experienced school teacher) their growing family. - -In the spring of 1846 there might have been seen standing, at about -five miles from Fulton, Ill., and about fifteen from New-Albany, alone -in the prairie, a temporary, rude cabin. Miles of unimproved land -stretched away on either side, save a small spot, rudely fenced, near -the cabin, as the commencement of a home. At the door of this tent, in -April of that year, and about sunset, a wagon drawn by oxen, and driven -by the father of a family, a man about thirty-seven, and his son, a -lad about ten years, halted. That wagon contained a mother--a woman of -thirty-three years--toil-worn but contented, with five of her children. -The oldest son, Lorenzo, who had been plodding on at the father’s side, -dragged his weary limbs up to the cabin door, and begged admittance for -the night. This was readily and hospitably granted. Soon the family -were transported from the movable to the staid habitation. Here they -rested their stomachs upon “Johnny cake” and Irish potatoes, and their -weary, complaining bodies upon the soft side of a white oak board for -the night. - -Twenty-four hours had not passed ere the father had staked out a -“claim;” a tent had been erected; the cattle turned forth, were -grazing upon the hitherto untrodden prairie land, and preparations -made and measures put into vigorous operation for spring sowing. -Here, with that same elasticity of mind and prudent energy that had -inspired his earliest efforts for self-support, Mr. Oatman commenced -to provide himself a home, and to surround his family with all the -comforts and conveniences of a subsistence. Before his energetic and -well-directed endeavors, the desert soon began to blossom; and beauty -and fruitfulness gradually stole upon these hitherto wild and useless -regions. He always managed to provide his family with a plain, frugal, -and plenteous support. - -Four years and over Mr. and Mrs. Oatman toiled early and late, -clearing, subduing, and improving. And during this time they readily -and cheerfully turned their hands to any laudable calling, manual -or intellectual, that gave promise of a just remuneration for their -services. Although accustomed, for the most part of their united life, -to a competence that had placed them above the necessity of menial -service, yet they scorned a dependence upon past position, as also that -pride and utter recklessness of principle which can consent to keep up -the _exterior_ of opulence, while its expenses must come from unsecured -and deceived creditors. They contentedly adapted themselves to a manner -and style that was intended to give a true index to their real means -and resources. - -It was this principle of noble self-reliance, and unbending integrity, -that won for them the warmest regards of the good, and crowned their -checkered allotment with appreciative esteem wherever their stay had -been sufficient to make them known. - -While the family remained at this place, now called Henly, they toiled -early and late, at home or abroad, as opportunity might offer. During -much of this time, however, Mr. Oatman was laboring under and battling -with a serious bodily infirmity and indisposition. - -Early in the second year of their stay at Henly, while lifting a stone, -in digging a well for a neighbor, he injured himself, and from the -effects of that injury he never fully recovered. - -At this time improvements around him had been conducted to a stage -of advancement that demanded a strict and vigilant oversight and -guidance. And though by these demands, and his unflagging ambition, -he was impelled to constant, and at times to severe labors, yet they -were labors for which he had been disabled, and from which he should -have ceased. Each damp or cold season of the year, after receiving this -injury to his back and spine, would place him upon a rack of pain, -and at times render life a torture. The winters, always severe in -that section of the country, that had blasted and swept away frailer -constitutions about him, had as yet left no discernible effects upon -his vigorous physical system. But now their return almost disabled him -for work, and kindled anew the torturing local inflammation that his -injury had brought with it to his system. - -He became convinced that if he would live to bless and educate his -family, or would enjoy even tolerable health, he must immediately seek -a climate free from the sudden and extreme changes so common to the -region in which he had spent the last few years. - -In the summer of 1849 an effort was made to induce a party to organize, -for the purpose of emigration to that part of the New-Mexican Territory -lying about the mouth of the Rio Colorado and Gila Rivers. Considerable -excitement extended over the northern and western portions of Illinois -concerning it. There were a few men, men of travel and information, -who were well acquainted with the state of the country lying along the -east side of the northern end of the Gulf of California, and they had -received the most flattering inducements to form there a colony of the -Anglo-Saxon people. - -Accordingly notices were circulated of the number desired and of the -intention and destiny of the undertaking. The country was represented -as of a mild, bland climate, where the extremes of a hot summer and -severe winter were unknown. Mr. Oatman, after considerable deliberation -upon the state of his health, the necessity for a change of climate, -the reliability of the information that had come from this new -quarter, and other circumstances having an intimate connection with -the welfare of those dependent upon him, sent in his name, as one who, -with a family, nine in all, was ready to join the colony; and again he -determined to attempt his fortune in a new land. - -He felt cheered in the prospect of a location where he might again -enjoy the possibility of a recovery of his health. And he hoped that -the journey itself might aid the return of his wonted vigor and -strength. - -After he had proposed a union with this projected colony, and his -proposition had been favorably received, he immediately sold out. The -sum total of the sales of his earthly possessions amounted to fifteen -hundred dollars. With this he purchased an outfit, and was enabled to -reserve to himself sufficient, as he hoped, to meet all incidental -expenses of the tedious trip. - -In the spring of 1850, accompanied by some of his neighbors, who had -also thrown their lots into this scheme, he started for Independence, -the place selected for the gathering of the scattered members of the -colony, preparatory to a united travel for the point of destination. -Every precaution had been taken to secure unanimity of feeling, -purpose, and intention among those who should propose to cast in their -lot with the emigrating colony. All were bound for the same place; -all were inspired by the same object; all should enter the band on an -equality; and it was agreed that every measure of importance to the -emigrant army, should be brought to the consideration and consultation -of every member of the train. - -It was intended to form a new settlement, remote from the prejudices, -pride, arrogance, and caste that obtain in the more opulent and less -sympathizing portions of a stern civilization. Many of the number -thought they saw in the locality selected many advantages that -were peculiar to it alone. They looked upon it as the way by which -emigration would principally reach this western gold-land, furnishing -for the colony a market for their produce; that thus remote they could -mold, fashion, and direct the education, habits, customs, and progress -of the young and growing colony, after a model superior to that under -which some of them had been discontentedly raised, and one that should -receive tincture, form, and adaptation from the opening and multiplying -necessities of the _experiment in progress_. - -As above stated, this colony, composed of more than fifty souls, -encamped on the lovely evening of August 9, 1850, about four miles from -Independence. - -The following are the names of those who were the most active in -projecting the movement, and their names are herein given, because they -may be again alluded to in the following pages; besides, many of them -are now living, and this may be the first notice they shall receive of -the fate of the unfortunate family, the captivity and sufferings of -the only two surviving members of which are the themes of these pages. -Mutual perils and mutual adventures have a power to cement worthy -hearts that is not found in unmingled prosperity. And it has been the -privilege of the author to know, from personal acquaintance, in one -instance, of a family to whom the “Oatman Family” were bound by the tie -of mutuality of suffering and geniality of spirit. - - Mr. Ira Thompson and family. - A. W. Lane and family. - R. and John Kelly and their families. - Mr. Mutere and family. - Mr. Wilder and family. - Mr. Brinshall and family. - -We have thus rapidly sketched the outlines of the history of the Oatman -family, for a few years preceding their departure from the eastern -side of the continent, and glanced at the nature and cast of their -allotment, because of members of that family these pages are designed -mainly to treat. This remove, the steps to which have been traced -above, proved their last; for though bright, and full of promise and -hope, at the outset, tragedy of the most painful and gloomy character -settles down upon it at an early period, and with fearfully portentous -gloom, thickens and deepens upon its every step, until the day, so -bright at dawn, gradually closes in all the horror and desolation of -a night of plunder, murder, and worse than murderous and barbarous -captivity. And though no pleasant task to bring this sad afterpart -to the notice of the reader, it is nevertheless a tale that may be -interesting for him to ponder; and instructive, as affording matter -for the employment of reflection, and instituting a heartier sympathy -with those upon whose life the clouds and pangs of severe reverses and -misfortunes have rested. - -Ere yet twilight had lifted the deepest shades of night from plain and -hill-side, on the morning of the 10th of August, 1850, there was stir -and bustle, and hurrying to and fro throughout that camp. As beautiful -a sunrise as ever mantled the east, or threw its first, purest glories -upon a long and gladdened West, found all things in order, and that -itinerant colony arranged, prepared, and in march for the “Big Bend” -of the Arkansas River. Their course at first lay due west, toward -the Indian territory. One week passed pleasantly away. Fine weather, -vigorous teams, social, cheerful chit-chat, in which the evenings were -passed by men, women, and children, who had been thrown into their -first acquaintance under circumstances so well calculated to create -identity of interest and aim, all contributed to the comfort of this -anxious company during the “first week upon the plains,” and to render -the prospect for the future free from the first tint of evil adversity. -At the end of a week, and when they had made about one hundred miles, -a halt was called at a place known as the “Council Grove.” This place -is on the old Santa Fé road, and is well suited for a place of rest, -and for recruiting. Up to this time naught but harmony and good feeling -prevailed throughout the ranks of this emigrant company. While tarrying -at this place, owing to the peculiarities in the religious notions and -prejudices of a few restless spirits, the first note of discord and -jarring element was introduced among them. - -Some resolved to return, but the more sober (and such seemed in the -majority) persisted in the resolve to accomplish the endeared object of -the undertaking. Owing to their wise counsels, and moderate, dignified -management, peace and quiet returned; and after a tarry of about one -week’s duration, they were again upon their journey. From Council Grove -the road bore a little south of west, over a beautiful level plain, -covered with the richest pasturage; and in the distance bordering on -every hand against high, picturesque ranges of mountains, seeming like -so many huge blue bulwarks, and forming natural boundaries between the -abodes of the respective races, each claiming, separately and apart, -the one the mountain, the other the vale. - -The weather was beautiful; the evenings, cool and invigorating, -furnishing to the jaded band a perfect elysium for the recruiting of -tired nature, at the close of each day’s sultry and dusty toil. Good -feeling restored, all causes of irritation shut out, joyfully, merrily, -hopefully, the pilgrim band moved on to the Big Bend, on the Arkansas -River. Nothing as yet had been met to excite fear for personal safety; -nothing to darken for a moment the cloudless prospect that had inspired -and shone upon their first westward movings. - -“It was our custom,” says Lorenzo Oatman, “to lay by on the Sabbath, -both to rest physical nature, and also, by proper religious services, -to keep alive in our minds the remembrance of our obligations to our -great and kind Creator and Preserver, and to remind ourselves that we -were each travelers upon that great level of time, to a bourne from -whence no traveler returns.” - -One Saturday night the tents were pitched upon the hither bank of -the Arkansas River. On the next morning Divine service was conducted -in the usual manner, and at the usual hour. Scarcely had the service -terminated ere a scene was presented calculated to interrupt the -general monotony, as well as awaken some not very agreeable -apprehensions for their personal safety. A Mr. Mutere was a short -way from the camp, on the other side of the river, looking after the -stock. While standing and gazing about him, the sound of crude, wild -music broke upon his ear. He soon perceived it proceeded from a band of -Indians, whom he espied dancing and singing in the wildest manner in a -grove near by. They were making merry, as if in exultation over some -splendid victory. He soon ascertained that they were of the Camanche -tribe, and about them were a number of very beautiful American horses -and mules. He knew them to be stolen stock, from the saddle and harness -marks, yet fresh and plainly to be seen. While Mr. Mutere stood looking -at them his eye suddenly fell upon a huge, hideous looking “buck,” -partly concealed behind a tree, out from which he was leveling a gun at -himself. He sprang into a run, much frightened, and trusted to leg bail -for a safe arrival at camp. - -At this the Indian came out, hallooed to Mutere, and made the most -vehement professions of friendship, and of the absence of all evil -design toward him. But Mutere chose not to tarry for any reassurance -of his kindly interest in his welfare. As soon as Mutere was in -camp, several Indians appeared upon the opposite side of the river, -hallooing, and asking the privilege of coming into camp, avowing -friendliness. After a little their request was granted, and about a -score of them came up near the camp. The party soon had occasion to -mark their folly in yielding to the request of the Indians, who were -not long in their vicinity ere they were observed in secret council -a little apart, also at the same time bending their bows and making -ready their arrows, as if upon the eve of some malicious intent. “At -this,” says L. Oatman, “our boys were instantly to their guns, and -upon the opposite side of the wagon, preparing them for the emergence. -But we took good care to so hide us, as to let our motions plainly -appear to the enemy, that they might take warning from our courage -and not be apprised of our fears. Our real intention was immediately -guessed at, as we could see by the change in the conduct of our new -enemy. They, by this time, lowered their bows, and their few guns, -and modestly made a request for a cow. This roused our resolution, -and the demand was quickly resisted. We plainly saw unmistakable -signs of fear, and a suspicion that they were standing a poor show -for cow-beef from that quarter. Such was the first abrupt close that -religious services had been brought to on our whole route as yet. These -evil-designing wretches soon made off, with more dispatch evidently -than was agreeable. A few hours after they again appeared upon the -opposite bank, with about a score of fine animals, which they drove -to water in our sight. As soon as the stock had drank, they raised a -whoop, gave us some hearty cheering, and were away to the south at a -tremendous speed. On Monday we crossed the river, and toward evening -met a government train, who had been out to the fort and were now on -their return. We related to them what we had seen. They told us that -they had, a day or two before, come upon the remnant of a government -train who were on their way to the fort, that their stock had been -taken from them, and they were left in distress, and without means of -return. They also informed us that during the next day we would enter -upon a desert, where for ninety miles we would be without wood and -water. This information, though sad, was timely. We at once made all -possible preparations to traverse this old ‘Sahara’ of the Santa Fé -road. But these preparations as to water proved unnecessary, for while -we were crossing this desolate and verdureless waste, the kindly clouds -poured upon us abundance of fresh water, and each day’s travel for this -ninety miles was as pleasant as any of our trip to us, though to the -stock it was severe.” - -While at the camp on the river one very tragical (?) event occurred, -which must not be omitted. One Mr. M. A. M., Jun., had stepped down -to the river bank, leisurely whistling along his way, in quest of a -favorable place to draw upon the Arkansas for a pail of water. Suddenly -two small girls, who had been a little absent from camp, with aprons -upon their heads, rose above a little mound, and presented themselves -to his view. His busy brain must have been preoccupied with “Injins,” -for he soon came running, puffing, and yelling into camp. As he went -headlong over the wagon-tongue, his tin pail as it rolled starting a -half-score of dogs to their feet, and setting them upon a yell, he -lustily, and at the topmost pitch of voice, cried, “Injins! Injins!” He -soon recovered his wits, however, and the pleasant little lasses came -into camp with a hearty laugh that they had so unexpectedly been made -the occasion of a rich piece of “fun.” - -From the river bend or crossing, on to Moro, the first settlement -we reached in New Mexico, was about five hundred miles. During this -time nothing of special interest occurred to break the almost painful -monotony of our way, or ruffle the quiet of our _sociale_, save an -occasional family jar, the frequent crossing of pointed opinions, the -now-and-then prophecies of “Injins ahead,” etc., except one “Grape -Dumpling” affair, which must be related by leaving a severe part -untold. At one of our camps, on one of those fine water-courses that -frequently set upon our way, from the mountains, we suddenly found -ourselves near neighbors to a bounteously burdened grape orchard. Of -these we ate freely. One of our principal and physically talented -matrons, however, like the distrustful Israelites, determined not to -trust to to-morrow for to-morrow’s manna. She accordingly laid in a -more than night’s supply. The over-supply was, for safe keeping, -done up “brown,” in the form of well-prepared and thoroughly-cooked -dumplings, and these deposited in a cellar-like stern end of the “big -wagon.” Unfortunate woman! if she had only performed these hiding -ceremonies when the lank eye of one of our invalids, (?) Mr. A. P., had -been turned the other way, she might have prevented a calamity, kindred -to that which befell the _ancient_ emigrants when they sought to lay by -more than was demanded by immediate wants. - -Now this A. P. had started out sick, and since his restoration had been -constantly beleaguered by one of those dubious blessings, common as -vultures upon the plains, a voracious appetite, an appetite that, like -the grave, was constantly receiving yet never found a place to say, -“Enough.” Slowly he crawled from his bed, after he was sure that sleep -had made Mrs. M. oblivious of her darling dumplings, and the rest of -the camp unheedful of his movements, and, standing at the stern of the -wagon, he deliberately emptied almost the entire contents of this huge -dumpling pan into his ever-craving interior. - -It seems that they had been safely stored in the wagon by this -provident matron, to furnish a feast for the passengers when their -travels might be along some grapeless waste; and but for the unnatural -cravings of the unregulated appetite of A. P., might still have -remained for that purpose. It was evident the next day that the -invalid had been indulging in undue gluttony. He was “sick again,” -and, to use his own phrase, “like all backsliders, through worldly or -stomach prosperity and repletion.” - -Madam M. now seized a stake, and thoroughly caned him through the camp, -until dumpling strength was low, very low in the market. - -After crossing the big desert, one day, while traveling, some of -our company had their notions of our personal safety suddenly -revolutionized under the following circumstances. A Mr. J. Thompson -and a young man, C. M., had gone one side of the road some distance, -hunting antelope. Among the hills, and when they were some distance -in advance of the camp, they came upon a large drove of antelopes. -They were ignorant at the time of their whereabouts, and the routed -game started directly toward the train; but, to the hunters, the train -seemed to be in directly the opposite direction. In the chase the -antelopes soon came in sight of the train, and several little girls -and boys, seeing them, and seeing their pursuers, ran upon a slight -elevation to frighten the antelopes back upon the hunters; whereupon, -by some unaccountable mirage deception, these little girls and boys -were suddenly transformed into huge Indians to the eyes of the hunters. -They were at once forgetful of their anticipated game, and regarding -themselves as set upon by a band of some giant race, began to devise -for their own escape. Mr. T., thinking that no mortal arm could rescue -them, turned at once, and with much perturbation, to the young man, and -vehemently cried out: “Charles, let us pray.” Said Charles, “No, I’ll -be d--d if I’ll pray; let us run;” and at this he tried the valor of -running. All the exhortations of the old man to Charles “to drop his -gun” were as fruitless as his entreaties to prayer. But when Mr. T. saw -that Charles was making such rapid escape, he dropped his notions of -praying, and took to the pursuit of the path left by the running but -unpraying Charles. He soon outstripped the young man, and made him beg -most lustily of the old man “to wait, and not run away and leave him -there with the Injins alone.” - -The chagrin of the brave hunters, after they had reached camp by a long -and circuitous route, may well be imagined, when they found that they -had been running from their own children; and that their fright, and -the running and fatigue it had cost them, had been well understood by -those of the camp who had been the innocent occasion of their chase for -antelopes suddenly being changed into a flight from “Injins.” - -When we came into the Mexican settlements our store of meats was -well-nigh exhausted, and we were gratefully surprised to find that at -every stopping place abundance of mutton was in market, fresh, and of -superior quality, and to be purchased at low rates. This constituted -our principal article of subsistence during the time we were -traversing several hundred miles in this region. - -Slowly, but with unmistakable indications of a melancholy character, -disaffection and disorder crept into our camp. Disagreements had -occurred among families. Those who had taken the lead in originating -the project had fallen under the ban and censure of those who, having -passed the novelty of the trip, were beginning to feel the pressure -of its dark, unwelcome, and unanticipated realities. And, in some -instances, a conduct was exhibited by those whose years and rank, -as well as professions made at the outset, created expectation and -confidence that in them would be found benefactors and wise counselors, -that tended to disgrace their position, expose the unworthiness of -their motives, and blast the bright future that seemed to hang over the -first steps of our journeyings. As a consequence, feelings of discord -were engendered, which gained strength by unwise and injudicious -counsels, until their pestilential effects spread throughout the camp. - -At Moro we tarried one night. This is a small Mexican town, of about -three hundred inhabitants, containing, as the only objects of interest, -a Catholic Mission station, now in a dilapidated state; a Fort, -well-garrisoned by Mexican soldiers, and a fine stream of water, that -comes, cool and clear, bounding down the mountain side, beautifying and -reviving this finely located village. - -The next day after leaving this place we came to the Natural, or Santa -Fe Pass, and camped that night at the well-known place called the -Forks. From this point there is one road leading in a more southerly -direction, and frequently selected by emigrants after arriving at the -Forks, though the other road is said, by those best acquainted, to -possess many advantages. At this place we found that the disaffection, -which had appeared for some time before, was growing more and more -incurable; and it began to break out into a general storm. Several of -our number resolved upon taking the south road; but this resolution was -reached only as a means of separating themselves from the remainder -of the train; for the intention really was to become detached from -the restraints and counsels that they found interfering with their -uncontrollable selfishness. There seemed to be no possible method by -which these disturbing elements could be quelled. The matter gave rise -to an earnest consultation and discussion upon the part of the sober -and prudent portion of our little band; but all means and measures -proposed for an amicable adjustment of variances and divisions, seemed -powerless when brought in contact with the unmitigated selfishness -that, among a certain few, had blotted out from their view the one -object and system of regulation that they had been instrumental in -throwing around the undertaking at first. - -We now saw a sad illustration of the adage that “it is not all gold -that glitters.” The novelty of the scene, together with every facility -for personal comfort and enjoyment, may suffice to spread the glad -light of good cheer about the first few days or weeks of an emigrating -tour upon these dreary plains; but let its pathway be found among -hostile tribes for a number of weeks; let a scarcity of provisions be -felt; let teams begin to fail, with no time or pasturage to recruit -them; let inclement weather and swollen streams begin to hedge up the -way; these, and more that frequently becomes a dreadful reality, have -at once a wonderful power to turn every man into a kingdom by himself, -and to develop the real nature of the most hidden motives of his being. - -Several of those who had, with unwonted diligence and forbearance, -sought to restore quiet and satisfaction, but to no purpose, resolved -upon remaining here until the disaffected portion had selected the -direction and order of their own movements, and then quietly pursue -their way westward by the other route. After some delay, and much -disagreeable discussion among themselves, the northern route was -selected by the malcontents, and they commenced their travels apart. -The remainder of us started upon the south road; and though our animals -were greatly reduced, our social condition was greatly improved. - -We journeyed on pleasantly for about one hundred miles, when we -reached Socoro, a beautiful and somewhat thrifty Mexican settlement. -Our teams were now considerably jaded, and we found it necessary to -make frequent halts and tarryings for the purpose of recruiting them. -And this we found it the more difficult to do, as we were reaching a -season of the year, and section of country, that furnished a scanty -supply of feed. We spent one week at Socoro, for the purpose of rest -to ourselves and teams, as also to replenish, if possible, our fast -diminishing store of supplies. We found that food was becoming more -scarce among the settlements that lay along our line of travel; that -quality and price were likewise serious difficulties, and that our -wherewith to purchase even these was well-nigh exhausted. - -We journeyed from Socoro to the Rio Grande amid many and disheartening -embarrassments and troubles. Sections of the country were almost -barren; teams were failing, and indications of hostility among the -tribes of Indians (representatives of whom frequently gave us the most -unwelcome greetings) were becoming more frequent and alarming. - -Just before reaching the Rio Grande, two fine horses were stolen -from Mr. Oatman. We afterward learned that they had been soon after -seen among the Mexicans, though by them the theft was attributed -to unfriendly neighboring tribes; and it was asserted that horses, -stolen from trains of emigrants, were frequently brought into Mexican -settlements and offered for sale. It is proper here to apprise the -reader, that the project of a settlement in New-Mexico had now been -entirely abandoned since the division mentioned above, and that -California had become the place where we looked for a termination -of our travel, and the land where we hoped soon to reach and find a -_home_. At the Rio Grande we rested our teams one week, as a matter -of necessary mercy, for every day we tarried was only increasing the -probability of the exhaustion of our provisions, ere we could reach -a place of permanent supply. We took from this point the “Cook and -Kearney” route, and found the grass for our teams for a while more -plentiful than for hundreds of miles previous. Our train now consisted -of eight wagons and twenty persons. We now came into a mountainous -country, and we found the frequent and severe ascents and declivities -wearing upon our teams beyond any of our previous travel. We often -consumed whole days in making less than one quarter of the usual day’s -advance. A few days after leaving the Rio Grande, one Mr. Lane died -of the mountain fever. He was a man highly esteemed among the members -of the train, and we felt his loss severely. We dug a grave upon one -of the foot hills, and with appropriate funeral obsequies we lowered -his remains into the same. Some of the female members of our company -planted a flower upon the mound that lifted itself over his lonely -grave. A rude stake, with his name and date of his death inscribed -upon it, was all we left to mark the spot of his last resting-place. -One morning, after spending a cool night in a bleak and barren place, -we awoke with several inches of snow lying about us upon the hills in -the distance. We had spent the night and a part of the previous day -without water. Our stock were scattered during the night, and our first -object, after looking them up, was to find some friendly place where we -might slake our thirst. - -The morning was cold, with a fierce bleak wind setting in from the -north. Added to the pains of thirst, was the severity of the cold. We -found that the weather is subject, in this region, to sudden changes, -from one to the other extreme. While in this distressed condition some -of our party espied in the distance a streak of timber letting down -from the mountains, indicative of running living water. To go to this -timber we immediately made preparation, with the greatest possible -dispatch, as our only resort. And our half-wavering expectations were -more than realized; for after a most fatiguing trip of nearly a day, -during which many of us were suffering severely from thirst, we reached -the place, and found not only timber and water in abundance, but a -plentiful supply of game. Turkeys, deer, antelope, and wild sheep were -dancing through every part of the beautiful woodland that lured us from -our bleak mountain camp. As the weather continued extremely cold we -must have suffered severely, if we had not lost our lives, even, by the -severity of the weather, as there was not a particle of anything with -which to kindle a fire, unless we had used our wagon timber for that -purpose, had we not sought the shelter of this friendly grove. We soon -resolved upon at least one week’s rest in this place, and arrangements -were made accordingly. During the week we feasted upon the most -excellent wild meat, and spent most of our time in hunting and fishing. -Excepting the fear we constantly entertained concerning the Indians of -the neighborhood, we spent the week here very pleasantly. One morning -three large, fierce-looking Apaches came into camp at an early hour. -They put on all possible pretensions of friendship; but from the first -their movements were suspicious. They for a time surveyed narrowly our -wagon and teams, and, so far as allowed to do so, our articles of food, -clothing, guns, etc. Suspecting their intentions we bade them be off, -upon which they reluctantly left our retreat. That night the dogs kept -up a barking nearly the whole night, and at seasons of the night would -run to their masters, and then a short distance into the wood, as if -to warn us of the nearness of danger. We put out our fires, and each -man, with his arms, kept vigilant guard. There is no doubt that by this -means our lives were preserved. Tracks of a large number of Indians -were seen near the camp next morning; and on going out we found that -twenty head of stock had been driven away, some of which belonged to -the teams. By this several of our teams were so reduced that we found -extreme difficulty in getting along. Some of our wagons and baggage -were left at a short distance from this in consequence of what we here -lost. We traced the animals some distance, until we found the trail -leading into the wild, difficult mountain fastnesses, where it was -dangerous and useless to follow. - -We were soon gathered up, and en route again for “Ta Bac,” another -Mexican settlement, of which we had learned as presenting inducements -for a short recruiting halt. - -We found ourselves again traveling through a rich pasturage country, -abounding with the most enchanting, charming scenery that had greeted -us since we had left the “Big Bend.” We came into “Ta Bac” with better -spirits, and more vigorous teams, than was allowed us during the last -few hundred miles. - -At this place one of our number became the unwilling subject of a most -remarkable and dampening transaction. Mrs. M., of “grape dumpling” -notoriety, while bearing her two hundred and forty of avoirdupois about -the camp at rather a too rapid rate, suddenly came in sight of a well -that had been dug years before by the Mexican settlers. - -While guiding her steps so as to shun this huge-looking hole, suddenly -she felt old earth giving way beneath her. It proved that a well of -more ancient date than the one she was seeking to shun had been dug -directly in her way, but had accumulated a fine covering of grass -during the lapse of years. The members of the camp, who were lazily -whiling away the hours on the down hill-side of the well’s mouth, were -soon apprised of the fact that some _momentous_ cause had interfered -with nature’s laws, and opened some new and hitherto unseen fountains -in her bosom. With the sudden disappearance of Mrs. M., there came a -large current of clear cold water flowing through the camp, greatly -dampening our joys, and starting us upon the alert to inquire into -the cause of this strange phenomenon. Mrs. M. we soon found safely -lodged in the old well, but perfectly secure, as the water, on the -principle that two bodies cannot occupy the same space at the same -time, had leaped out as Mrs. M.’s mammoth proportions had suddenly laid -an imperative possessory injunction upon the entire dimensions of the -“hole in the ground.” - -We found, after leaving Ta Bac, the road uneven; the rains had set -in; the nights were cold; and evidences of the constant nearness and -evil designs of savage tribes were manifested every few miles that we -passed over. Several once rich, but now evacuated, Mexican towns were -passed, from which the rightful owners of the soil had been driven by -the Apaches. At “Santa Cruz” we found a Mexican settlement of about -one hundred inhabitants, friendly, and rejoiced to see us come among -them, as they were living constantly in fear of the implacable Apaches, -whose depredations were frequent and of most daring and outrageous -character. Almost every day bands of these miscreant wretches were in -sight upon the surrounding hills waiting favorable opportunities for -the perpetration of deeds of plunder and death. They would at times -appear near to the Mexican herdsmen, and tauntingly command them -“to herd and take care of those cattle for the Apaches.” We found -the country rich and desirable, but for its being infested by these -desperadoes. We learned, both from the Mexicans and the conduct of the -Indians themselves, that one American placed them under more dread and -fear than a score of Mexicans. If along this road we were furnished -with a fair representation, these Mexicans are an imbecile, frail, -cowardly, and fast declining race. By the friendliness and generosity -of the settlers at this point, we made a fine recruit while tarrying -there. For a while we entertained the project of remaining for a year. -Probably, had it not been for the prowling savages, whose thieving, -murdering banditti infest field and woodland, we might have entered -into negotiations with the Mexicans to this effect; but we were now -en route for the Eureka of the Pacific Slope, and we thought we had -no time to waste between us and the realization of our golden dreams. -Every inducement that fear and generosity could invent, and that was -in the power of these Mexicans to control, was, however, presented and -urged in favor of our taking up a residence among them. But we had no -certainty that our small number, though of the race most their dread, -would be sufficient to warrant us in the successful cultivation of the -rich and improved soil that was proffered us. Nothing but a constant -guard of the most vigilant kind could promise any safety to fields of -grain, or herds of cattle. - -We next, and at about eighty miles from Santa Cruz, came to Tukjon, -another larger town than Santa Cruz, and more pleasantly, as well as -more securely situated. Here again the same propositions were renewed -as had been plied so vehemently at the last stopping-place. Such were -the advantages that our hosts held out for the raising of a crop of -grain, and fattening our cattle, that some of our party immediately -resolved upon at least one year’s stay. The whole train halted here one -month. During that time, those of our party who could not be prevailed -upon to proceed, had arrangements made and operations commenced for a -year of agricultural and farming employment. - -At the end of one month the family of Wilders, Kellys, and ourselves, -started. We urged on amid multiplying difficulties for several days. -Our provisions had been but poorly replenished at the last place, as -the whole of their crops had been destroyed by their one common and -relentless foe, during the year. With all their generosity, it was out -of their power to aid us as much as they would have done. Frequently -after this, for several nights, we were waked to arm ourselves against -the approaching Apaches, who hung in front and rear of our camp for -nights and days. - -Wearied, heart-sick, and nearly destitute, we arrived at the Pimo -Village, on or about the 16th of February, 1851. Here we found a -settlement of Indians, who were in open hostility to the Apaches, and -by whose skill and disciplined strength they were kept from pushing -their depredations further in that direction. But so long had open and -active hostilities been kept up, that they were short of provisions -and in nearly a destitute situation. They had been wont to turn their -attention and energies considerably to farming, but during the last two -years, their habits in this respect had been greatly interfered with. -We found the ninety miles that divides Tukjon from Pimole to be the -most dismal, desolate, and unfruitful of all the regions over which our -way had led us as yet. We could find nothing that could, to a sound -judgment, furnish matter of contention, such as had been raging between -the rival claimants of its blighted peaks and crags. - -Poor and desolate as were the war-hunted Pimoles, and unpromising as -seemed every project surveyed by our anxious eyes for relief, and a -supply of our almost drained stores of provisions, yet it was soon -apparent to our family, that if we would proceed further we must -venture the journey alone. Soon, and after a brief consultation, a full -resolution was reached by the Wilders and Kellys to remain, and stake -their existence upon traffic with the Pimoles, or upon a sufficient -tarrying to produce for themselves; until from government or friends, -they might be supplied with sufficient to reach Fort Yuma. - -To Mr. Oatman this resolution brought a trial of a darker hue than any -that had cast its shadows upon him as yet. He believed that starvation, -or the hand of the treacherous savage, would soon bring them to an -awful fate if they tarried; and with much reluctance he resolved -to proceed, with no attendants or companions save his exposed and -depressed family. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - Mrs. and Mrs. Oatman in Perplexity--Interview with Dr. - Lecount--Advises them to proceed--They start alone--Teams - begin to fail--The Roads are bad--The Country rough and - mountainous--Compelled to carry the Baggage up the Hills by - Hand--Overtaken by Dr. Lecount on his way to Fort Yuma--He promises - them Assistance from the Fort--The next Night the Horses of Dr. - Lecount are stolen by the Apaches--He posts a Card, warning Mr. - Oatman of Danger, and starts on Foot for the Fort--Reach the Gila - River--Camp on the Island late at Night--Their dreary Situation, - and the Conversation of the Children--The Morning of the 29th of - March--Their Struggle to ascend the Hill on the 29th--Reach the - Summit about Sunset--The Despondence and Presentiments of Mr. - Oatman--Nineteen Apaches approach them Profess Friendliness--The - Massacre--Lorenzo left for Dead, but is preserved--The Capture of - Olive and Mary Ann. - - -The reader should here be apprised that, as the entire narrative that -follows has an almost exclusive reference to those members of the -family who alone survive to tell this sad tale of their sufferings and -privations, it has been thought the most appropriate that it be given -in the first person. - -Lorenzo D. Oatman has given to the author the following facts, reaching -on to the moment when he was made senseless, and in that condition left -by the Apache murderers. - -“We were left to the severe alternative of starting with a meagre -supply, which any considerable delay would exhaust ere we could reach -a place of re-supply, or to stay among the apparently friendly Indians, -who also were but poorly supplied at best to furnish us; and of whose -_real_ intentions it was impossible to form any reliable conclusion. -The statement that I have since seen in the ‘Ladies’ Repository,’ made -by a traveling correspondent who was at Pimole village at the time -of writing, concerning the needlessness and absence of all plausible -reason for the course resolved upon by my father, is incorrect. There -were reasons for the tarrying of the Wilders and Kellys that had no -pertinence when considered in connection with the peculiarities of the -condition of my father’s family. The judgment of those who remained, -approved of the course elected by my father. - -“One of the many circumstances that conspired to spread a gloom over -the way that was before us, was the jaded condition of our team, which -by this time consisted of two yoke of cows and one yoke of oxen. My -parents were in distress and perplexity for some time to determine -the true course dictated by prudence, and their responsibility in the -premises. One hundred and ninety miles of desert and mountain, each -alike barren and verdureless, save now and then a diminutive gorge -(water-coursed and grass-fringed, that miles apart led down from the -high mountain ranges across the dreary road) stretched out between us -and the next settlement or habitation of man. We felt, deeply felt, -the hazardous character of our undertaking; and for a time lingered in -painful suspense over the proposed adventure. We felt and feared that -a road stretching to such a distance, through an uninhabited and wild -region, might be infested with marauding bands of the Indians who were -known to roam over the mountains that were piled up to the north of us; -who, though they might be persuaded or intimidated to spare us the fate -of falling by their savage hands, yet might plunder us of all we had -as means for life’s subsistence. While in this dreadful suspense, one -Dr. Lecount, attended by a Mexican guide, came into the Pimole village. -He was on his return from a tour that had been pushed westward, almost -to the Pacific Ocean. As soon as we learned of his presence among us, -father sought and obtained an interview with him. And it was upon -information gained from him, that the decision to proceed was finally -made. - -“He had passed the whole distance to Fort Yuma, and returned, all -within a few months, unharmed; and stated that he had not witnessed -indications of even the neighborhood of Indians. Accordingly on the -11th of March, finding provisions becoming scarce among the Pimoles, -and our own rapidly wasting, unattended, in a country and upon a -road where the residence, or even the trace of one of our own nation -would be sought in vain, save that of the hurrying traveler who was -upon some official mission, or, as in the case of Dr. Lecount, some -scientific pursuit requiring dispatch, we resumed our travel. Our -teams were reduced; we were disappointed in being abandoned by our -fellow-travelers, and wearied, almost to exhaustion, by the long -and fatiguing march that had conducted us to this point. We were -lengthening out a toilsome journey for an object and destination quite -foreign to the one that had pushed us upon the wild scheme at first. -And this solitary commencement on our travel upon a devious way, dismal -as it was in every aspect, seemed the only alternative that gave -any promise of an extrication from the dark and frowning perils and -sufferings that were every day threatening about us, and with every -step of advance into the increasing wildness pressing more and more -heavily upon us.” - -Let the imagination of the reader awake and dwell upon the -probable feelings of those fond parents at this trying juncture of -circumstances; and when it shall have drawn upon the resources that -familiarity with the heart’s deepest anguish may furnish, it will fail -to paint them with any of that poignant accuracy that will bring him -into stern sympathy with their condition. - -Attended by a family, a family which, in the event of their being -overtaken by any of the catastrophes that reason and prudence bade -them beware of on the route, must be helpless; if they did not, even -by their presence and peculiar exposure, give point and power to the -sense and presence of danger; a family entirely dependent upon them -for that daily bread of which they were liable to be left destitute -at any moment; far from human abodes, and with the possibility that, -beyond the reach of relief, they might be set upon by the grim, ghastly -demon of famine, or be made the victims of the blood-thirstiness -and slow tortures of those human devils who, with savage ferocity, -lurk for prey, when least their presence is anticipated; the faint -prospect at best there was for accomplishing all that must be performed -ere they could count upon safety; these, all these, and a thousand -kindred considerations, crowded upon those lonely hours of travel, and -furnished attendant reflections that burned through the whole being -of these parents with the intensity of desperation. O! how many noble -hearts have been turned out upon these dismal, death-marked by-ways, -that have as yet formed the only land connection between the Atlantic -and Pacific slopes, to bleed, and moan, and sigh, for weeks, and even -months, suspended in painful uncertainty, between life and death at -every moment. Apprehensions for their own safety, or the safety of -dependent ones, like ghosts infernal, haunting them at every step. -Fear, fear worse than death, if possible, lest sickness, famine, or -the sudden onslaught of merciless savages, that infest the mountain -fastnesses, and prowl and skulk through the innumerable hiding-places -furnished by the wide sage-fields and chaparral, might intercept a -journey, the first stages of which glowed with the glitter and charm -of novelty, and beamed with the light of hope, but was now persisted -in, through unforeseen and deepening gloom, as a last and severe -alternative of self-preservation, oppressed their hearts. - -Monuments! monuments, blood-written, of these uncounted miseries, that -will survive the longest lived of those most recently escaped, are -inscribed upon the bleached and bleaching bones of our common humanity -and nationality; are written upon the rude graves of our countrymen and -kin, that strew these highways of death; written upon the moldering -timbers of decaying vehicles of transport; written in blood that now -beats and pulsates in the veins of solitary and scathed survivors, -as well as in the stain of kindred blood that still preserves its -tale-telling, unbleached hue, upon scattered grass-plots, and Sahara -sand mounds; written upon favored retreats, sought at the close of a -dusty day’s toil for nourishment, but suddenly turned into one of the -unattended, unchronicled deathbeds, already and before frequenting -these highways of carnage and wrecks; written, ah! too sadly, deeply -_engraven_ upon the tablet of memories that keep alive the scenes -of butcheries and captive-making that have rent and mangled whole -households, and are now preserved to embitter the whole gloom-clad -afterpart of the miraculously preserved survivors. - -If there be an instance of one family having experienced trials that -with peculiar pungency may suggest a train of reflection like the -above, that family is the one presented to the reader’s notice in these -pages. Seven of them have fallen under the extreme of the dark picture; -two only live to tell herein the tale of their own narrow escape, and -the agonies which marked the process by which it came. - -“For six days,” says one of these, “our course was due southwest, -at a slow and patience-trying rate. We were pressing through many -difficulties, with which our minds were so occupied that they could -neither gather nor retain any distinct impression of the country over -which this first week of our solitary travel bore us. While thus, on -the seventh day from Pimole, we were struggling and battling with the -tide of opposition that, with the increasing force of multiplying -embarrassments and drawbacks, was setting in against us, our teams -failing and sometimes in the most difficult and dangerous places -utterly refusing to proceed, we were overtaken by Dr. Lecount, who -with his Mexican guide was on his way back to Fort Yuma. The doctor -saw our condition, and his large, generous heart poured upon us a -flood of sympathy, which, with the words of good cheer he addressed -us, was the only relief it was in his power to administer. Father -sent by him, and at his own suggestion, to the fort for immediate -assistance. This message the doctor promised should be conveyed to -the fort, (we were about ninety miles distant from it at the time,) -with all possible dispatch, also kindly assuring us that all within -his power should be done to procure us help _at once_. We were all -transiently elated with the prospect thus suddenly opening upon us of -a relief from this source, and especially as we were confident that -Dr. Lecount would be prompted to every office and work in our behalf, -that he might command at the fort, where he was well and favorably -known. But soon a dark cloud threw its shadow upon all these hopes, -and again our wonted troubles rolled upon us with an augmented force. -Our minds became anxious, and our limbs were jaded. The roads had -been made bad, at places almost impassable, by recent rains, and for -the first time the strength and courage of my parents gave signs of -exhaustion. It seemed, and indeed was thus spoken of among us, that the -dark wing of some terrible calamity was spread over us, and casting the -shadows of evil ominously and thickly upon our path. The only method -by which we could make the ascent of the frequent high hills that -hedged our way, was by unloading the wagon and carrying the contents -piece by piece to the top; and even then we were often compelled to -aid a team of four cows and two oxen to lift the empty wagon. It was -well for us, perhaps, that there was not added to the burden of these -long and weary hours, a knowledge of the mishap that had befallen -the messenger gone on before. About sunset of the day after Dr. -Lecount left us, he camped about thirty miles ahead of us, turned his -horses into a small valley hemmed in by high mountains, and with his -guide slept until about daybreak. Just as the day was breaking and -preparations were being made to gather up for a ride to the fort that -day, twelve Indians suddenly emerged from behind a bluff hill near by -and entered the camp. Dr. Lecount, taken by surprise by the presence -of these unexpected visitants, seized his arms, and with his guide -kept a close eye upon their movements, which he soon discovered wore a -very suspicious appearance. One of the Indians would draw the doctor -into a conversation, which they held in the Mexican tongue; during -which others of the band would with an air of carelessness edge about, -encircling the doctor and his guide, until in a few moments, despite -their friendly professions, their treacherous intentions were plainly -read. At the suggestion of his bold, intrepid, and experienced guide, -they both sprang to one side, the guide presenting to the Indians his -knife, and the doctor his pistol. The Indians then put on the attitude -of fight, but feared to strike. They still continued their efforts to -beguile the doctor into carelessness, by introducing questions and -topics of conversation, but they could not manage to cover with this -thin gauze the murder of their hearts. Soon the avenging ferocity of -the Mexican began to burn, he violently sprang into the air, rushed -toward them brandishing his knife, and beckoning to the doctor to come -on; he was about in the act of plunging his knife into the leader of -the band, but was restrained by the coolness and prudence of Doctor -Lecount. Manuel (the guide) was perfectly enraged at their insolence, -and would again and again spring, tiger-like toward them, crying at -the top of his voice, “_terrily, terrily!_” The Indians soon made off. -On going into the valley for their animals they soon found that the -twelve Indians had enacted the above scene in the camp, merely as a -ruse to engage their attention, while another party of the same rascal -band were driving their mules and horse beyond their reach. They found -evidences that this had been done within the last hour. The doctor -returned to camp, packed his saddle and packages in a convenient, -secluded place near by, and gave orders to his guide to proceed -immediately to the fort, himself resolving to await his return. Soon -after Manuel had left, however, he bethought him of the Oatman family, -of their imminent peril, and of the pledge he had put himself under to -them, to secure them the earliest possible assistance; and he now had -become painfully apprised of reasons for the most prompt and punctual -fulfillment of that pledge. He immediately prepared, and at a short -distance toward us posted upon a tree near the road a card, warning us -of the nearness of the Apaches, and relating therein in brief what had -befallen himself at their hands; reassuring us also of his determined -diligence to secure us protection, and declaring his purpose, -contrary to a resolution he had formed on dismissing his guide, to -proceed immediately to the fort, there in person to plead our case -and necessities. This card we missed, though it was afterward found -by those whom we had left at Pimole Village. What “might have been,” -could our eyes have fallen upon that small piece of paper, though it -is now useless to conjecture, cannot but recur to the mind. It might -have preserved fond parents, endeared brothers and sisters, to gladden -and cheer a now embittered and bereft existence. But the card, and the -saddle and packages of the doctor, we saw not until weeks after, as the -sequel will show, though we spent a night at the same camp where the -scenes had been enacted. - -“Toward evening of the eighteenth day of March, we reached the Gila -River, at a point over eighty miles from Pimole, and about the same -distance from Fort Yuma. - -“We descended to the ford from a high, bluff hill, and found it leading -across at a point where the river armed, leaving a small island -sand-bar in the middle of the stream. We frequently found places on our -road upon which the sun shines not, and for hours together the road led -through a region as wild and rough as the imagination ever painted any -portion of our earth. It was impossible, save for a few steps at a -time, to see at a distance in any direction; and although we were yet -inspirited at seasons with the report of Dr. Lecount, upon which we had -started, yet we could not blind our eyes or senses to the possibilities -that might lurk unseen and near, and to the advantages over us that the -nature of the country about us would furnish the evil-designing foe -of the white race, whose habitations we knew were locked up somewhere -within these huge, irregular mountain ranges. Much less could we be -indifferent to the probable inability of our teams to bear us over the -distance still separating us from the place and stay of our hope. We -attempted to cross the Gila about sunset; the stream was rapid, and -swollen to an unusual width and depth. After struggling with danger and -every possible hinderance until long after dark, we reached the sand -island in the middle of the stream. Here our teams mired, our wagon -dragged heavily, and we found it impossible to proceed. - -“After reaching the center and driest portion of the island, with the -wagon mired in the rear of us, we proceeded to detach the teams, and -as best, we could made preparations to spend the night. Well do I -remember the forlorn countenance and dejected and jaded appearance of -my father as he started to wade the lesser branch of the river ahead of -us to gather material for a fire. At a late hour of that cold, clear, -wind-swept night, a camp-fire was struck, and our shivering group -encircled it to await the preparation of our stinted allowance. At -times the wind, which was blowing furiously most of the night, would -lift the slight surges of the Gila quite to our camp-fire.” - -Let the mind of the reader pause and ponder upon the situation of that -forlorn family at this time. Still unattended and unbefriended; without -a white person or his habitation within the wide range of nearly a -hundred miles; the Gila, a branch of which separated them from either -shore, keeping up a ceaseless, mournful murmuring through the entire -night; the wild wind, as it swept unheeding by, sighing among the -distant trees and rolling along the forest of mountain peaks, kept up -a perpetual moan solemn as a funeral dirge. The imagination can but -faintly picture the feelings of those fond parents upon whom hung such -a fearful responsibility as was presented to their minds and thoughts -by the gathering of this little loved family group about them. - -“A large part of the night was spent by the children (for sleep we -could not) in conversation upon our trying situation; the dangers, -though unseen, that might be impending over our heads; of the past, the -present, and the cloud-wrapt future; of the perils of our undertaking, -which were but little realized under the light of novelty and hope that -inspired our first setting out--an undertaking well-intentioned but now -shaping itself so rudely and unseemly. - -“We were compelled frequently to shift our position, as the fickle -wind would change the point at which the light surges of the Gila -would attack our camp-fire, in the center of that little island of -about two hundred square feet, upon which we had of necessity halted -for the night. While our parents were in conversation a little apart, -which, too, they were conducting in a subdued tone for purposes -of concealment, the curiosity of the elder children, restless and -inquisitive, was employed in guessing at the probable import of -their councils. We talked, with the artlessness and eagerness of our -unrealizing age, of the dangers possibly near us, of the advantage that -our situation gave to the savages, who were our only dread; and each -in his or her turn would speak, as we shiveringly gathered around that -little, threatened, sickly camp-fire, of his or her intentions in case -of the appearance of the foe. Each had to give a map of the course to -be pursued if the cruel Apaches should set upon us, and no two agreed; -one saying, ‘I shall run;’ another, ‘I will fight and die fighting;’ -and still another, ‘I will take the gun or a club and keep them off;’ -and last, Miss Olive says, ‘Well, there is one thing; I shall not be -taken by these miserable brutes. I will fight as long as I can, and if -I see that I am about to be taken, I will kill myself. I do not care to -die, but it would be worse than death to me to be taken a captive among -them.’” - -How apprehensive, how timid, how frail a thing is the human mind, -especially when yet untutored, and uninured to the severe allotments -that are in this state incident to lengthened years. Experience alone -can test the wisdom of the resolutions with which we arm ourselves -for anticipated trials, or our ability to carry them out. How little -it knows of its power or skill to triumph in the hour of sudden and -trying emergency, only as the reality itself shall test and call it -forth. Olive lives to-day to dictate a narrative of five gloomy years -of captivity, that followed upon a totally different issue of an event -that during that night, as a possibility merely, was the matter of vows -and resolutions, but which in its reality mocked and taunted the plans -and purposes that had been formed for its control. - -“The longed-for twilight at length sent its earliest stray beams along -the distant peaks, stole in upon our sand-bar camp, and gradually -lifted the darkness from our dreary situation. As the curtain of that -burdensome night departed, it seemed to bear with it those deep and -awful shades that had rested upon our minds during its stay, and which -we now began to feel had taken their gloomiest hue from the literal -darkness and solitude that has a strange power to nurse a morbid -apprehension. - -“Before us, and separating the shore from us, was a part of the river -yet to be forded. At an early hour the teams were brought from the -valley-neck of land, where they had found scant pasturage for the -night, and attached to the wagon. We soon made the opposite bank. -Before us was quite a steep declivity of some two hundred feet, by the -way of the road. We had proceeded but a short distance when our galled -and disarranged teams refused to go. We were again compelled to unload, -and with our own hands and strength to bear the last parcel to the top -of the hill. After this we found it next to impossible to compel the -teams to drag the empty wagon to the summit. - -“After reaching the other bank we camped, and remained through the heat -of the day intending to travel the next night by moonlight. About two -hours and a half before sunset we started, and just before the sun sank -behind the western hills we had made the ascent of the hill and about -one mile advance. Here we halted to reload the remainder of our baggage. - -“The entire ascent was not indeed made until we reached this point, -and to it some of our baggage had been conveyed by hand. I now plainly -saw a sad, foreboding change in my father’s manner and feelings. -Hitherto, amid the most fatiguing labor and giant difficulties, he had -seemed generally armed for the occasion with a hopeful countenance -and cheerful spirit and manner, the very sight of which had a power -to dispel our childish fears and spread contentment and resignation -upon our little group. While ascending this hill I saw, too plainly -saw, (being familiar, young as I was, with my father’s aptness to -express, by the tone of his action and manner, his mental state,) as -did my mother also, that a change had come over him. Disheartening and -soul-crushing apprehensions were written upon his manner, as if preying -upon his mind in all the mercilessness of a conquering despair. There -seemed to be a dark picture hung up before him, upon which the eye of -his thought rested with a monomaniac intensity; and written thereon he -seemed to behold a sad afterpart for himself, as if some terrible event -had loomed suddenly upon the field of his mental vision, and though -unprophesied and unheralded by any palpable notice, yet gradually -wrapping its folds about him, and coming in, as it were, to fill his -cup of anguish to the brim. Surely, - - “‘Coming events cast their shadows before them. - Who hath companioned a visit from the horn or ivory gate? - Who hath propounded the law that renders calamities gregarious? - Pressing down with yet more woe the heavy laden mourner; - Yea, a palpable notice warneth of an instant danger; - For the soul hath its feelers, cobwebs upon the wings of the wind, - That catch events, in their approach, with sure and sad presentiment.’ - -“Whether my father had read that notice left for our warning by Dr. -Lecount, and had from prudence concealed it, with the impression it -may have made upon his own mind, from us, to prevent the torment -of fear it would have enkindled; or whether a camp-fire might have -been discerned by him in the distance the night before, warning of -the nearness of the savage Apaches; or whether by spirit law or the -appointment of Providence the gloom of his waiting doom had been sent -on before to set his mind in readiness for the breaking storm, are -questions that have been indulged and involuntarily urged by his fond, -bereaved children; but no answer to which has broke upon their ear -from mountain, from dale, or from spirit-land. For one hour the night -before my father had wept bitterly, while in the wagon thinking himself -concealed from his family, but of which I was ignorant until it was -told me by my eldest sister during the day. My mother was calm, cool, -and collected; patient to endure, and diligent to do, that she might -administer to the comfort of the rest of us. Of the real throbbings -of the affectionate and indulgent heart of that beloved mother, her -children must ever remain ignorant. But of her noble bearing under -these trying circumstances angels might speak; and her children, who -survive to cherish her name with an ardent, though sorrowing affection, -may be pardoned for not keeping silence. True to the instincts that had -ever governed her in all trying situations, and true to the dictates -of a noble and courageous heart, she wisely attributed these shadows -(the wing of which flitted over her own sky as well) to the harassings -and exhaustion of the hour; she called them the accustomed creations -of an over-tasked mind, and then, with cheerful heart and ready hand, -plied herself to all and any labors that might hie us upon our way. At -one time, during the severest part of the toil and efforts of that day -to make the summit of that hill, my father suddenly sank down upon a -stone near the wagon, and exclaimed, ‘Mother, mother, in the name of -God, I know that something dreadful is about to happen!’ In reply, our -dear mother had no expressions but those of calm, patient trust, and a -vigorous, resolute purpose. - - “‘O, Mother? bless’d sharer of our joys and woes, - E’en in the darkest hours of earthly ill, - Untarnish’d yet thy fond affection glow’d, - When sorrow rent the heart, when feverish pain - Wrung the hot drops of anguish from the brow; - To soothe the soul, to cool the burning brain, - O who so welcome and so prompt as thou?’ - -“We found ourselves now upon the summit, which proved to be the east -edge of a long table-land, stretching upon a level, a long distance -westward, and lying between two deep gorges, one on the right, the -other on the left; the former coursed by the Gila River. We had hastily -taken our refreshment, consisting of a few parcels of dry bread, and -some bean-soup, preparatory to a night’s travel. This purpose of night -travel had been made out of mercy to our famished teams, so weak that -it was with difficulty they could be driven during the extreme sultry -heat of the day. Besides this, the moon was nearly in full, giving us -light nearly the entire night; the nights were cool, and better for -travel to man and beast, and the shortness of our provisions made it -imperative that we should make the most of our time.” - -Up, upon an elevated, narrow table-land, formed principally of lime -rock, look now at this family; the scattered rough stones about them -forming their seats, upon which they sit them down in haste to receive -the frugal meal to strengthen them for the night’s travel. From two -years old and upward, that group of children, unconscious of danger, -but dreading the lone, long hours of the night’s journey before them. -To the south of them, a wild, uninhabited, and uninhabitable region, -made up of a succession of table-lands, varying in size and in height, -with rough, verdureless sides, and separated by deep gorges and dark -cañons, without any vegetation save an occasional scrub-tree standing -out from the general sterility. Around them, not a green spot to charm, -to cheer, to enliven the tame, tasteless desolation and barrenness; at -the foot of the bold elevation, that gives them a wider view than was -granted while winding the difficult defiles of the crooked road left -behind them, murmurs on the ceaseless Gila, upon which they gaze, over -a bold precipice at the right. To the east and north, mountain ranges -rising skyward until they seem to lean against the firmament. But -within all the extended field swept by their curious, anxious vision, -no smoking chimney of a friendly habitation appears to temper the -sense of loneliness, or apprise them of the accessibleness of friendly -sympathy or aid. Before them, a dusty, stony road points to the scene -of anticipated hardships, and the land of their destination. The sun -had scarcely concealed his burning face behind the western hills, ere -the full-orbed moon peers from the craggy mountain chain in the rear, -as if to mock at the sun weltering in his fading gore, and proffering -the reign of her chastened, mellow light for the whole dreaded night. - -“Though the sun had hid its glittering, dazzling face from us behind -a tall peak in the distance, yet its rays lingered upon the summits -that stretched away between us and the moon, and daylight was full -upon us. Our hasty meal had been served. My father, sad, and seemingly -spell-bound with his own struggling emotions, was a little on one -side, as if oblivious of all immediately about him, and was about in -the act of lifting some of the baggage to the wagon, that had as yet -remained unloaded since the ascent of the hill, when, casting my eyes -down the hill by the way we had come, I saw several Indians slowly and -leisurely approaching us in the road. I was greatly alarmed, and for a -moment dared not to speak. At the time, my father’s back was turned. -I spoke to him, at the same time pointing to the Indians. What I saw -in my father’s countenance excited in me a great fear, and took a -deeper hold upon my feelings of the danger we were in, than the sight -of the Indians. They were now approaching near us. The blood rushed -to my father’s face. For a moment his face would burn and flash as -it crimsoned with the tide from within; then a death-like paleness -would spread over his countenance, as if his whole frame was suddenly -stiffened with horror. I saw too plainly the effort that it cost him -to attempt a concealment of his emotions. He succeeded, however, in -controlling the jerking of his muscles and his mental agitations, so -as to tell us, in mild and composed accents, ‘not to fear; the Indians -would not harm us.’ He had always been led to believe that the Indians -could be so treated as to avoid difficulty with them. He had been -among them much in the Western states, and so often tried his theory -of leniency with success that he often censured the whites for their -severity toward them; and was disposed to attribute injury received -from them to the unwise and cruel treatment of them by the whites. It -had long been his pride and boast that he could manage the Indians so -that it would do to trust them. Often had he thrown himself wholly in -their power, while traveling and doing business in Iowa, and that, -too, in times of excitement and hostility, relying upon his coolness, -self-possession, and urbanity toward them to tame and disarm their -ferocity. As yet, his theory had worked no injury to himself, though -often practiced against the remonstrances of friends. But what might -serve for the treatment of the Iowa Indians, might need modification -for these fierce Apaches. Besides, his wonted coolness and fearlessness -seemed, as the Indians approached, to have forsaken him; and I have -never been able to account for the conduct of my father at this time, -only by reducing to reality the seemings of the past few days or hours, -to wit, that a dark doom had been written out or read to him before. - -“After the Indians approached, he became collected, and kindly -motioned them to sit down; spoke to them in Spanish, to which they -replied. They immediately sat down upon the stones about us, and still -conversing with father in Spanish, made the most vehement professions -of friendship. They asked for tobacco and a pipe, that they might smoke -in token of their sincerity and of their friendly feelings toward -us. This my father immediately prepared, took a whiff himself, then -passed it around, even to the last. But amid all this, the appearance -and conduct of father was strange. The discerning and interested eye -of his agitated family could too plainly discover the uncontrollable, -unspoken mental convulsions that would steal the march upon the -forced appearances of composure that his better judgment, as well as -yearnings for his family, dictated for the occasion. His movements -were a reflecting glass, in which we could as plainly read some dire -catastrophe was breeding for us, as well as in the flashes and glances -that flew from face to face of our savage-looking visitants. - -“After smoking, these Indians asked for something to eat. Father told -them of our destitute condition, and that he could not feed them -without robbing his family; that unless we could soon reach a place -of new supplies we must suffer. To all this they seemed to yield only -a reluctant hearing. They became earnest and rather imperative, and -every plea that we made to them of our distress, but increased their -wild and furious clamors. Father reluctantly took some bread from the -wagon and gave it to them, saying that it was robbery, and perhaps -starvation to his family. As soon as this was devoured they asked -for more, meanwhile surveying us narrowly, and prying and looking -into every part of the wagon. They were told that we could spare them -no more. They immediately packed themselves into a secret council -a little on one side, which they conducted in the Apache language, -wholly unintelligible to us. We were totally in the dark as to their -designs, save that their appearance and actions wore the threatening of -some hellish deed. We were now about ready to start. Father had again -returned to complete the reloading of the remainder of the articles; -mother was in the wagon arranging them; Olive, with my older sister, -was standing upon the opposite side of the wagon; Mary Ann, a little -girl about seven years old, sat upon a stone holding to a rope attached -to the horns of the foremost team; the rest of the children were on the -opposite side of the wagon from the Indians. My eyes were turned away -from the Indians. - -“Though each of the family was engaged in repairing the wagon, none -were without manifestations of fear. For some time every movement of -the Indians was closely watched by us. I well remember, however, that -after a few moments my own fears were partially quieted, and from their -appearance I judged it was so with the rest. - -“In a subdued tone frequent expressions were made concerning the -Indians, and their possible intentions; but we were guarded and -cautious, lest they might understand our real dread and be emboldened -to violence. Several minutes did they thus remain a few feet from us, -occasionally turning an eye upon us, and constantly keeping up a low -earnest babbling among themselves. At times they gazed eagerly in -various directions, especially down the road by which we had come, as -if struggling to discern the approach of some object or person either -dreaded or expected by them. - -“Suddenly, as a clap of thunder from a clear sky, a deafening yell -broke upon us, the Indians jumping into the air, and uttering the -most frightful shrieks, and at the same time springing toward us -flourishing their war-clubs, which had hitherto been concealed under -their wolf-skins. I was struck upon the top and back of my head, came -to my knees, when with another blow, I was struck blind and senseless.” -One of their number seized and jerked Olive one side, ere they had -dealt the first blow. - -[Illustration: THE MASSACRE.] - -“As soon,” continues Olive, “as they had taken me one side, and while -one of the Indians was leading me off, I saw them strike Lorenzo, and -almost at the same instant my father also. I was so bewildered and -taken by surprise by the suddenness of their movements, and their -deafening yells, that it was some little time before I could realize -the horrors of my situation. When I turned around, opened my eyes, and -collected my thoughts, I saw my father, my own dear father! struggling, -bleeding, and moaning in the most pitiful manner. Lorenzo was lying -with his face in the dust, the top of his head covered with blood, and -his ears and mouth bleeding profusely. I looked around and saw my poor -mother, with her youngest child clasped in her arms, and both of them -still, as if the work of death had already been completed; a little -distance on the opposite side of the wagon, stood little Mary Ann, with -her face covered with her hands, sobbing aloud, and a huge-looking -Indian standing over her; the rest were motionless, save a younger -brother and my father, all upon the ground dead or dying. At this -sight a thrill of icy coldness passed over me; I thought I had been -struck; my thoughts began to reel and became irregular and confused; I -fainted and sank to the earth, and for a while, I know not how long, I -was insensible. - -“When I recovered my thoughts I could hardly realize where I was, -though I remembered to have considered myself as having also been -struck to the earth, and thought I was probably dying. I knew that -all, or nearly all of the family had been murdered; thus bewildered, -confused, half conscious and half insensible, I remained a short -time, I know not how long, when suddenly I seemed awakened to the -dreadful realities around me. My little sister was standing by my side, -sobbing and crying, saying: ‘Mother, O mother! Olive, mother and father -are killed, with all our poor brothers and sisters.’ I could no longer -look upon the scene. Occasionally a low, piteous moan would come from -some one of the family as in a dying state. I distinguished the groans -of my poor mother, and sprang wildly toward her, but was held back by -the merciless savage holding me in his cruel grasp, and lifting a club -over my head, threatening me in the most taunting, barbarous manner. I -longed to have him put an end to my life. ‘O,’ thought I, ‘must I know -that my poor parents have been killed by these savages and I remain -alive!’ I asked them to kill me, pleaded with them to take my life, but -all my pleas and prayers only excited to laughter and taunts the two -wretches to whose charge we had been committed. - -“After these cruel brutes had consummated their work of slaughter, -which they did in a few moments, they then commenced to plunder our -wagon, and the persons of the family whom they had killed. They broke -open the boxes with stones and clubs, plundering them of such of their -contents as they could make serviceable to themselves. They took off -the wagon wheels, or a part of them, tore the wagon covering off from -its frame, unyoked the teams and detached them from the wagons, and -commenced to pack the little food, with many articles of their plunder, -as if preparatory to start on a long journey. Coming to a feather bed, -they seized it, tore it open, scattering its contents to the winds, -manifesting meanwhile much wonder and surprise, as if in doubt what -certain articles of furniture, and conveniences for the journey we had -with us, could be intended for. Such of these as they selected, with -the little food we had with us that they could conveniently pack, they -tied up in bundles, and started down the hill by the way they had come, -driving us on before them. We descended the hill, not knowing their -intentions concerning us, but under the expectation that they would -probably take our lives by slow torture. After we had descended the -hill and crossed the river, and traveled about one half of a mile by -a dim trail leading through a dark, rough, and narrow defile in the -hills, we came to an open place where there had been an Indian camp -before, and halted. The Indians took off their packs, struck a fire, -and began in their own way to make preparations for a meal. They boiled -some of the beans just from our wagon, mixed some flour with water, -and baked it in the ashes. They offered us some food, but in the most -insulting and taunting manner, continually making merry over every -indication of grief in us, and with which our hearts were ready to -break. We could not eat. After the meal, and about an hour’s rest, they -began to repack and make preparations to proceed.” - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - Lorenzo Oatman--Conscious of most of the Scenes of the Massacre--The - next Day he finds himself at the Foot of a rocky Declivity, - over which he had fallen--Makes an Effort to walk--Starts for - Pimole--His Feelings and Sufferings--Is attacked by Wolves--Then - by two Indians, who are about to shoot him down--Their subsequent - Kindness--They go on to the Place of Massacre--He meets the - Wilders and Kellys--They take him back to Pimole--In about one - Month gets well, and starts for Fort Yuma--Visits the Place of - Massacre--His Feelings--Burial of the Dead--Reflections--The - two Girls--Their Thoughts of Home and Friends--Conduct of their - Captors--Disposition of the Stock--Cruelty to the Girls to hurry - them on--Girls resolve not to proceed--Meet eleven Indians, - who seek to kill Olive--Reasons for--Apaches defend her--Their - Habits of Fear for their own Safety--Their Reception at the - Apache Village--One Year--The Mohaves--Their second coming among - the Apaches--Conversation of Olive and Mary--Purchased by the - Mohaves--Avowed Reasons--Their Price--Danger during the Debate. - - -In this chapter we ask the reader to trace with us the narrow and -miraculous escape of Lorenzo Oatman, after being left for dead by the -Apaches. He was the first to receive the death-dealing blow of the -perpetrators of that horrid deed by which most of the family were taken -from him. The last mention we made of him left him, under the effects -of that blow, weltering in his blood. He shall tell his own story of -the dreadful after-part. It has in it a candor, a freedom from the -tinselings so often borrowed from a morbid imagination, and thrown -about artificial romance, that commends it to the reader, especially -to the juvenile reader. It exhibits a presence of mind, courage, and -resoluteness that, as an example, may serve as a light to cheer and -inspirit that boy whose eye is now tracing this record, when he shall -find himself stumbling amid mishaps and pitfalls in the future, and -when seasons of darkness, like the deep, deep midnight, shall close -upon his path: - -“I soon must have recovered my consciousness after I had been struck -down, for I heard distinctly the repeated yells of those fiendish -Apaches. And these I heard mingling in the most terrible confusion -with the shrieks and cries of my dear parents, brothers, and sisters, -calling, in the most pitiful, heart-rending tones, for ‘Help, help! In -the name of God, cannot any one help us?’ - -“To this day the loud wail sent up by our dear mother from that -rough death-bed still rings in my ears. I heard the scream, shrill, -and sharp, and long, of these defenseless, unoffending brothers and -sisters, distinguishing the younger from the older as well as I could -have done by their natural voice; and these constantly blending with -the brutal, coarse laugh, and the wild, raving whooping of their -murderers. Well do I remember coming to myself, with sensations as of -waking from a long sleep, but which soon gave place to the dreadful -reality; at which time all would be silent for a moment, and then the -silence broken by the low, subdued, but unintelligible gibberings of -the Indians, intermingled with an occasional low, faint moan from some -one of the family, as if in the last agonies of death. I could not -move. I thought of trying to get up, but found I could not command -a muscle or a nerve. I heard their preparations for leaving, and -distinctly remember to have thought, at the time, that my heart had -ceased to beat, and that I was about giving my last breath. I heard -the sighs and moans of my sisters, heard them speak, knew the voice of -Olive, but could not tell whether one or more was preserved with her. - -“While lying in this state, two of the wretches came up to me, rolling -me over with their feet; they examined and rifled my pockets, took off -my shoes and hat in a hurried manner; then laid hold of my feet and -roughly dragged me a short distance, and then seemed to leave me for -dead. During all this, except for a moment at a time, occasionally, -I was perfectly conscious, but could not see. I thought each moment -would be my last. I tried to move again and again, but was under the -belief that life had gone from my body and limbs, and that a few -more breathings would shut up my senses. There seemed a light spot -directly over my head, which was gradually growing smaller, dwindling -to a point. During this time I was conscious of emotions and thoughts -peculiar and singular, aside from their relation to the horrors about -me. At one time (and it seemed hours) I was ranging through undefined, -open space, with paintings and pictures of all imaginable sizes and -shapes hung about me, as if at an immense distance, and suspended upon -walls of ether. At another, strange and discordant sounds would grate -on my ear, so unlike any that my ear ever caught, that it would be -useless endeavoring to give a description of them. Then these would -gradually die away, and there rolled upon my ear such strains of sweet -music as completely ravished all my thoughts, and I was perfectly -happy. And in all this I could not define myself; I knew not who I was, -save that I knew, or supposed I knew, I had come from some far-off -region, only a faint remembrance of which was borne along with me. But -to attempt to depict all of what seemed a strange, actual experience, -and that I now know to have been crowded into a few hours, would -only excite ridicule; though there was something so fascinating and -absorbing to my engaged mind, that I frequently long to reproduce its -unearthly music and sights. - -“After being left by the Indians, the thoughts I had, traces of which -are still in my memory, were of opening my eyes, knowing perfectly my -situation, and thinking still that each breath would be the last. The -full moon was shining upon rock, and hill, and shrub about me; a more -lovely evening indeed I never witnessed. I made an effort to turn my -eye in search of the place where I supposed my kindred were cold in -death, but could not stir. I felt the blood upon my mouth, and found -it still flowing from my ears and nose. All was still as the grave. Of -the fate of the rest of the family I could not now determine accurately -to myself, but supposed all of them, except two of the girls, either -dead or in my situation. But no sound, no voice broke the stillness -of these few minutes of consciousness; though upon them there rested -the weight of an anguish, the torture and horror of which pen cannot -report. I had a clear knowledge that two or more of my sisters were -taken away alive. Olive I saw them snatch one side ere they commenced -the general slaughter, and I had a faint consciousness of having heard -the voice and sighs of little Mary Ann, after all else was hushed, save -the hurrying to and fro of the Indians, while at their work of plunder. - -“The next period, the recollection of which conveys any distinct -impression to my mind at this distance of time, was of again coming to -myself, blind, but thinking my eyes were some way tied from without. -As I rubbed them, and removed the clotted blood from my eyelids, I -gathered strength to open them. The sun, seemingly from mid-heaven, -was looking me full in the face. My head was beating, and at times -reeling under the grasp of a most torturing pain. I looked at my worn -and tattered clothes, and they were besmeared with blood. I felt my -head and found my scalp torn across the top. I found I had strength -to turn my head, and it surprised me. I made an effort to get up, and -succeeded in rising to my hands and knees; but then my strength gave -way. I saw myself at the foot of a steep, rugged declivity of rocks, -and all about me new. On looking up upon the rocks I discovered traces -of blood marking the way by which I had reached my present situation -from the brow above me. At seasons there would be a return of partial -aberration, and derangement of my intellect. Against these I sought to -brace myself, and study the where and wherefore of my awful situation. -And I wish to record my gratitude to God for enabling me then and there -to collect my thoughts, and retain my sanity. - -“I soon determined in my mind that I had either fallen, or been hurled -down to my present position, from the place where I was first struck -down. At first I concluded I had fallen myself, as I remembered to -have made several efforts to get upon my hands and knees, but was -baffled each time, and that during this I saw myself near a precipice -of rocks, like that brow of the steep near me now, and that I plainly -recognized as the same place, and now sixty feet or more above me. My -consciousness now fully returned, and with it a painful appreciation -of the dreadful tragedies of which my reaching my present situation -had formed a part. I dwelt upon what had overtaken my family-kin, and -though I had no certain mode of determining, yet I concluded it must -have been the day before. Especially would my heart beat toward my fond -parents, and dwell upon their tragical and awful end: I thought of the -weary weeks and months by which they had, at the dint of every possible -exertion, borne us to this point; of the comparatively short distance -that would have placed them beyond anxiety; of the bloody, horrid night -that had closed in upon the troublous day of their lives. - -“And then my thoughts would wander after those dear sisters; and -scarcely could I retain steadiness of mind when I saw them, in thought, -led away I knew not where, to undergo every ill and hardship, to -suffer a thousand deaths at the hands of their heathen captors. I -thought at times (being, I have no doubt, partially delirious) that my -brain was loose, and was keeping up a constant rattling in my head, -and accordingly I pressed my head tightly between my hands, that if -possible I might retain it to gather a resolution for my own escape. -When did so much crowd into so small a space or reflection before? -Friends, that _were_, now re-presented themselves; but from them, now, -my most earnest implorings for help brought out no hand of relief; -and as I viewed them, surrounded with the pleasures and joys of their -safe home-retreats, the contrast only plunged me deeper in despair. -My old playmates now danced before me again, those with whom I had -caroled away the hours so merrily, and whom I had bidden the laughing, -merry ‘_adieu_,’ only pitying them that they were denied the elysium -of a romantic trip over the Plains. The scenes of sighs, and tears, -and regrets that shrouded the hour of our departure from kindred and -friends, and the weeping appeals they plied so earnestly to persuade us -to desist from an undertaking so freighted with hazard, now rolled upon -me to lacerate and torture these moments of suffocating gaspings for -breath. - -“Then my own condition would come up, with new views of the unbroken -gloom and despair that walled it in on every side, more impenetrable to -the first ray of hope than the granite bulwarks about me to the light -of the sun. - -“A boy of fourteen years, with the mangled remains of my own parents -lying near by, my scalp torn open, my person covered with blood, -alone, friendless, in a wild, mountain, dismal, wilderness region, -exposed to the ravenous beasts, and more, to the ferocity of more than -brutal savages and human-shaped demons! I had no strength to walk, my -spirits crushed, my ambition paralyzed, my body mangled. At times I -despaired, and prayed for death; again I revived, and prayed God for -help. Sometimes, while lying flat on my back, my hands pressing my -torn and blood-clothed head, with the hot sun pouring a full tide of -its unwelcome heat upon me, the very air a hot breath in my face, I -gathered hope that I might yet look upon the white face again, and -that I might live to rehearse the sad present in years to come. And -thus bright flashes of hope and dark gloom-clouds would chase each -other over the sky of my spirit, as if playing with my abandonment -and unmitigated distress. ‘And O,’ thought I, ‘those sisters, shall -I see them again? must they close their eyes among those ferocious -man-animals?’ I grew sick and faint, dizziness shook my brain, and my -senses fled. I again awoke from the delirium, partly standing, and -making a desperate effort. I felt the thrill of a strong resolution. -‘I will get up,’ said I, ‘and _will_ walk, or if not I will spend the -last remnant of my shattered strength to crawl out of this place.’ -I started, and slowly moved toward the rocks above me. I crept, -snail-like, up the rock-stepped side of the table-land above me. As I -drew near the top, having crawled almost fifty feet, I came in sight of -the wagon wreck; then the scenes which had been wrought about it came -back with horror, and nearly unloosed my hold upon the rocks. I could -not look upon those faces and forms, yet they were within a few feet. -The boxes, opened and broken, with numerous articles, were in sight. I -could not trust my feelings to go further; ‘I have misery enough, why -should I add fuel to the fire now already consuming me!’ - -[Illustration: RETURNING TO THE PLACE OF MASSACRE.] - -“I turned away, and began to crawl toward the east, round the brow -of the hill. After carefully, and with much pain, struggling all the -while against faintness, crawling some distance, I found myself at -the slope leading down to the Ford of the Gila, where I plainly saw -the wagon track we had made, as I supposed, the day before. The hot -sun affected me painfully; its burning rays kindled my fever, already -oppressive, to the boiling point. I felt a giant determination urging -me on. Frequently my weariness and faintness would bring me to the -ground several times in a few moments. Then I would crawl aside, (as -I did immediately after crossing the river,) drag myself under some -mountain shrub for escape from the sun, bathe my fevered head in its -friendly shade, and lay me to rest. Faint as I was from loss of blood, -and a raging inward thirst, these, even, were less afflicting than the -meditations and reflections that, unbidden, would at times steal upon -my mind, and lash it to a perfect phrenzy with agonizing remembrances. -The groans of those parents, brothers, and sisters, haunted me with the -grim, fiend-like faces of their murderers, and the flourishing of their -war-clubs; the convulsive throbs of little Mary Ann would fill my mind -with sensations as dreary as if my traveling had been among the tombs. - -“‘O my God!’ said I, ‘am I alive? My poor father and mother, where are -they? And are my sisters alive? or are they suffering death by burning? -Shall I see them again?’ - -“Thus I cogitated, and wept, and sighed, until sleep kindly shut -out the harrowing thoughts. I must have slept for three hours, for -when I woke the sun was behind the western hills. I felt refreshed, -though suffering still from thirst. The road crosses the bend in the -river twice; to avoid this, I made my way over the bluff spur that -turns the road and river to the north. I succeeded after much effort -in sustaining myself upon my feet, with a cane. I walked slowly on, -and gained strength and courage that inspired within some hope of -my escape. I traveled on, only taking rest two or three times during -that evening and whole night. I made in all about fifteen miles by -the next day-break. About eleven o’clock of the next day I came to a -pool of standing water; I was nearly exhausted when I reached it and -lay me down by it, and drank freely, though the water was warm and -muddy. I had no sooner slaked my thirst than I fell asleep and slept -for some time. I awoke partially delirious, believing that my brain -was trying to jump out of my head, while my hands were pressed to my -head to keep it together, and prevent the exit of my excited brain. -When I had proceeded about ten miles, which I had made by the middle -of the afternoon, I suddenly became faint, my strength failed, and I -fell to the ground. I was at the time upon a high table-land, sandy -and barren. I marveled to know whether I might be dying; I was soon -unconscious. Late in the afternoon I was awakened by some strange -noise; I soon recollected my situation, and the noise, which I now -found to be the barking of dogs or wolves, grew louder and approached -nearer. In a few moments I was surrounded by an army of coyotes and -gray wolves. I was lying in the sun, and was faint from the effects -of its heat. I struggled to get to a small tree near by, but could -not. They were now near enough for me to almost reach them, smelling, -snuffing, and growling as if holding a meeting to see which should be -first to plunge his sharp teeth in my flesh, and first to gorge his -lank stomach upon my almost bloodless carcass. I was excited with fear, -and immediately sprang to my feet and raised a yell; and as I rose, -struck the one nearest me with my hand. He started back, and the rest -gave way a little. This was the first utterance I had made since the -massacre. These unprincipled gormandizers, on seeing me get up and -hurl a stone at them, ran off a short distance, then turned and faced -me; when they set up one of the most hideous, doleful howlings that I -ever heard from any source. As it rang out for several minutes upon the -still evening air, and echoed from crag to crag, it sent the most awful -sensations of dread and loneliness thrilling through my whole frame. ‘A -fit requiem for the dead,’ thought I. I tried to scatter them, but they -seemed bent upon supplying their stomachs by dividing my body between -them, and thus completing the work left unfinished by their brothers, -the Apaches. - -[Illustration: ATTACKED BY COYOTES AND WOLVES.] - -“I had come now to think enough of the chance for my life, to covet it -as a boon worth preserving. But I had serious fears when I saw with -what boldness and tenacity they kept upon my track, as I armed myself -with a few rocks and pushed on. The excitement of this scene fully -roused me, and developed physical strength that I had not been able -before to command. The sun had now reached the horizon, and the first -shades of lonely night lay upon the distant gorges and hill-sides. I -kept myself supplied with rocks, occasionally hurling one at the more -insolent of this second tribe of savages. They seemed determined, -however, to force an acquaintance. At times they would set up one -of their wild concerts, and grow furious as if newly enraged at my -escape. Then they would huddle about, fairly besetting my steps. I was -much frightened, but knew of only one course to take. After becoming -weary and faint with hunger and thirst, some time after dark I feared -I should faint, and before morning be devoured by them. Late in the -evening they called a halt, for a moment stood closely huddled in the -road behind me, as if wondering what blood-clad ghost from some other -sphere could be treading this unfriendly soil. They were soon away, to -my glad surprise; and ere midnight the last echo of their wild yells -had died upon the distant hills to the north. I traveled nearly all -night. The cool night much relieved the pain in my head, but compelled -me to keep up beyond my strength, to prevent suffering from cold. I -have no remembrance of aught from about two to four o’clock of that -night, until about nine of the next day, save the wild, troublous -dreams that disturbed my sleep. I dreamed of Indians, of bloodshed, of -my sisters, that they were being put to death by slow tortures, that -I was with them, and my turn was coming soon. When I came to myself I -had hardly strength to move a muscle; it was a long time before I could -get up. I concluded I must perish, and meditated seriously the eating -of the flesh from my arm to satisfy my hunger and prevent starvation. -I knew I had not sufficient of life to last to Pimole at this rate, -and concluded it as well to lie there and die, as to put forth more of -painful effort. - -“In the midst of these musings, too dreadful and full of horror to -be described, I roused and started. About noon I was passing through -a dark cañon, nearly overhung with dripping rocks; here I slaked my -thirst, and was about turning a short corner, when two red-shirted -Pimoles, mounted upon fine American horses, came in sight. They -straightened in their stirrups, drew their bows, with arrows pointed at -me. I raised my hand to my head and beckoned to them, and speaking in -Spanish, begged them not to shoot. Quick as thought, when I spoke they -dropped their bows, and rode up to me. I soon recognized one of them -as an Indian with whom I had been acquainted at Pimole Village. They -eyed me closely for a few minutes, when my acquaintance discovering -through my disfigured features who it was, that I was one of the family -that had gone on a little before, dismounted, laid hold of me, and -embraced me with every expression of pity and condolence that could -throb in an American heart. Taking me by the hand they asked me what -could have happened. I told them as well as I could, and of the fate of -the rest of the family. They took me one side under a tree, and laid -me upon their blankets. They then took from their saddle a piece of -their ash-baked bread, and a gourd of water. I ate the piece of bread, -and have often thought of the mercy it was they had no more, for I -might have easily killed myself by eating too much; my cravings were -uncontrollable. They hung up the gourd of water in reach, and charged -me to remain until they might return, promising to carry me to Pimole. -After sleeping a short time I awoke, and became fearful to trust myself -with these Pimoles. They had gone on to the scene of the massacre; it -was near night; I adjusted their blankets and laid them one side, and -commenced the night’s travel refreshed, and not a little cheered. But -I soon found my body racked with more pain, and oppressed with more -weariness than ever. I kept up all night, most of the time traveling. -It was the loneliest, most horror-struck night of my life. Glad was I -to mark the first streaks of the fourth morning. Never did twilight -shine so bright, or seem empowered to chase so much of darkness away. - -[Illustration: LORENZO RESCUED BY FRIENDLY INDIANS.] - -“Cheered for a few moments, I hastened my steps, staggering as I went; -I found that I was compelled to rest oftener than usual, I plainly -saw I could not hold out much longer. My head was becoming inflamed -within and without, and in places on my scalp was putrid. About -mid-forenoon, after frequent attempts to proceed, I crawled under a -shrub and was soon asleep, I slept two or three hours undisturbed. ‘O -my God!’ were the words with which I woke, ‘could I get something to -eat, and some one to dress my wounds, I might yet live.’ I had now -a desire to sleep continually. I resisted this with all the power I -had. While thus musing I cast my eyes down upon a long winding valley -through which the road wandered, and plainly saw moving objects; I was -sure they were Indians, and at the thought my heart sank within me. -I meditated killing myself. For one hour I kept my aching eyes upon -the strange appearance, when, all at once, as they rose upon a slight -hill, I plainly recognized two white covered wagons. O what a moment -was that. Hope, joy, confidence, now for the first time seemed to mount -my soul, and hold glad empire over all my pains, doubts, and fears. In -the excitement I lost my consciousness, and waked not until disturbed -by some noise near me. I opened my eyes, and two covered wagons were -halting close to me, and Robert was approaching me. I knew him, but my -own appearance was so haggard and unnatural, it was some time before he -detected who that ‘strange-looking boy, covered with blood, hatless and -shoeless, could be, his visage scarred, and he pale as a ghost fresh -from Pandemonium.’ After looking for some time, slowly and cautiously -approaching, he broke out: ‘My God, Lorenzo! in the name of heaven, -what, Lorenzo, has happened?’ I felt my heart strangely swell in my -bosom, and I could scarcely believe my sight. ‘Can it be?’ I thought, -‘can it be that this is a familiar white face?’ I could not speak; my -heart could only pour out its emotions in the streaming tears that -flowed most freely over my face. When I recovered myself sufficiently, -I began to speak of the fate of the rest of the family. They could not -speak, some of them; those tender-hearted women wept most bitterly, and -sobbed aloud, begging me to desist, and hide the rest of the truth from -them. - -“They immediately chose the course of prudence, and resolved not to -venture with so small a company, where we had met such a doom. Mr. -Wilder prepared me some bread and milk, which, without any necessity -for a sharpening process, my appetite, for some reason, relished very -well. They traveled a few miles on the back track that night, and -camped. I received every attention and kindness that a true sympathy -could minister. We camped where a gurgling spring sent the clear cold -water to the surface; and here I refreshed myself with draughts of the -purest of beverages, cleansed my wounds, and bathed my aching head and -bruised body in one of nature’s own baths. The next day we were safe at -Pimole ere night came on. When the Indians learned what had happened, -they, with much vehemence, charged it upon the Yumas; but for this we -made allowance, as a deadly hostility burned between these tribes. Mr. -Kelly and Mr. Wilder resolved upon proceeding immediately to the place -of massacre, and burying the dead. - -“Accordingly, early the next day, with two Mexicans and several -Pimoles, they started. They returned after an absence of three days, -and reported that they could find but little more than the bones of six -persons, and that they were able to find and distinguish the bodies of -all but those of Olive and Mary Ann. If they had found the bodies of my -sisters the news would have been less dreadful to me than the tidings -that they had been carried off by the Indians. But my suspicions were -now confirmed, and I could only see them as the victims of a barbarous -captivity. During their absence, and for some time after, I was -severely and dangerously ill, but with the kind attention and nursing -rendered me I began after a week to revive. We were now only waiting -the coming that way of some persons who might be westward bound, to -accompany them to California. When we had been there two weeks, six men -came into Pimole, who, on learning of our situation, kindly consented -to keep with us until we could reach Fort Yuma. The Kellys and Wilders -had some time before abandoned their notion of a year’s stay at Pimole. -We were soon again upon that road, with every step of which I now had -a painful familiarity. On the sixth day we reached that place, of all -others the most deeply memory-written. I have no power to describe, nor -can tongue or pen proclaim the feelings that heaved my sorrowing heart -as I reached the fatal spot. I could hear still the echo of those wild -shrieks and hellish whoops, reverberating along the mountain cliffs! -those groans, _those awful groans_, could it be my imagination, or did -they yet live in pleading echo among the numerous caverns on either -hand? Every footfall startled me, and seemed to be an intruder upon the -chambers of the dead! - -“There were dark thoughts in my mind, and I felt that this was a -charnel-house that had plundered our household of its bloom, its -childhood, and its stay! I marked the precise spot where the work of -death commenced. My eyes would then gaze anxiously and long upon the -high, wild mountains, with their forests and peaks that now embosomed -all of my blood that were still alive! I traced the footprints of -their captors, and of those who had laid my parents beneath my feet. -I sighed to wrap myself in their death-robe, and with them sleep my -long, last sleep! But it was haunted ground, and to tarry there alive -was more dreadful than the thought of sharing their repose. I hastened -away. I pray God to save me in future from the dark thoughts that -gloomed my mind on turning my back upon that spot; and the reader from -experiencing kindred sorrow. With the exception of about eighteen -miles of desert, we had a comfortable week of travel to Fort Yuma. I -still suffered much, at times was seriously worse, so that my life was -despaired of; but more acute were my mental than my physical sufferings. - -“At the Fort every possible kindness, with the best of medical skill, -ministered to my comfort and hastened my recovery. To Dr. Hewitt I owe, -and must forever owe, a debt of gratitude which I can never return. The -sense of obligations I still cherish finds but a poor expression in -words. He became a parent to me; and kindly extended his guardianship -and unabating kindness, when the force was moved to San Diego, and then -he took me to San Francisco, at a time when, but for his counsel and -his affectionate oversight, I might have been turned out to wreck upon -the cold world. - -“Here we found that Doctor Lecount had done all in his power to get -up and hasten a party of men to our relief; but he was prevented by -the commander, a Mr. Heinsalman, who was guilty of an unexplainable, -if not an inexcusable delay--a delay that was an affliction to the -doctor, and a calamity to us. He seemed deaf to every appeal for us -in our distressed condition. His conduct, if we had been a pack of -hungry wolves, could not have exhibited more total recklessness. The -fact of our condition reached the Fort at almost as early an hour as -it would if the animals of the doctor had been retained, and there -were a number of humane men at the Fort who volunteered to rush to our -relief; but no permission could be obtained from the commander. If -he still lives, it is to know and remember, that by a prompt action -at that time, according to the behests and impulse of a principle of -‘humanity to man,’ he would have averted our dreadful doom. No language -can fathom such cruelty. He was placed there to protect the defenseless -of his countrymen; and to suffer an almost destitute family, struggling -amid dangers and difficulties, to perish for want of relief that he -knew he might have extended, rolls upon him a responsibility in the -inhuman tragedy that followed his neglect, that will haunt him through -eternity. There were men there who nobly stepped forward to assume the -danger and labor of the prayed-for relief, and around them clusters the -light of gratitude, the incense of the good; but he who neglects the -destitute, the hungry, the imperiled, proclaims his companionship with -misanthropists, and hews his own road to a prejudged disgrace. After -several days he reluctantly sent out two men, who hastened on toward -Pimole until they came to the place of the massacre, and finding what -had happened, and that the delay had been followed by such a brutal -murder of the family for whose safety and rescue they had burned to -encounter the perils of this desert way, sick at heart, and indignant -at this cruel, let-alone policy, they returned to the Fort; though not -until they had exhausted their scant supply of provisions in search of -the girls, of whose captivity they had learned. May Heaven bless these -benefactors, and pour softening influences upon their hard-hearted -commander.” - -The mind instinctively pauses, and, suspended between wonder and -horror, dwells with most intense interest upon a scene like the one -presented above. Look at the faint pointings to the reality, yet -the best that art can inscribe, furnished by the plate. Two timid -girls, one scarcely fourteen, the other a delicate, sweet-spirited -girl of not eight summers. Trembling with fear, swaying and reeling -under the wild storm of a catastrophe bursting upon them when they -had been lulled into the belief that their danger-thronged path -had been well-nigh passed, and the fury of which exceeded all that -the most excited imagination could have painted, these two girls, -eye-witnesses to a brutal, bloody affray which had smitten father, -mother, brothers, and sisters, robbing them in an instant of friends -and friendly protection, and cast themselves, they knew not where, -upon the perpetrators of all this butchery, whose tender mercies they -had only to expect would be cruelty itself. That brother, that oldest -brother, weltering in his blood, perfectly conscious of all that was -transpiring. The girls wishing that a kindred fate had ended their own -sufferings, and preserved them by a horrible death from a more horrible -after-part, placing them beyond the reach of savage arm and ferocity. O -what an hour was that! What a world of paralyzing agonies were pressed -into that one short hour! It was an “ocean in a tear, a whirlwind in a -sigh, an eternity in a moment.” Unoffending, innocent, yet their very -souls throbbing with woe they had never merited. See them but a little -before, wearied with the present, but happy in the prospect of a fast -approaching termination of their journey. A band of Indians, stalwart, -stout, and fierce-looking came into the camp, scantily clad, and what -covering they had borrowed from the wild beasts, as if to furnish an -appropriate badge of their savage nature and design. They cover their -weapons under their wolf-skins; they warily steal upon this unprotected -family, and by deceiving pretenses of friendship blunt their -apprehensions of danger, and make them oblivious of a gathering doom. -They smoke the pacific pipe, and call themselves Pimoles who are on -their way to Fort Yuma. Then secretly they concoct their hellish plot -in their own tongue, with naught but an involuntary glance of their -serpent eyes to flash or indicate the infernality of their treacherous -hearts. When every preparation is made by the family to proceed, no -defense studied or thought necessary, then these hideous man-animals -spring upon them with rough war-clubs and murder them in cold blood; -and, as if to strew their hellish way with the greatest possible amount -of anguish, they compel these two girls to witness all the barbarity -that broke upon the rest, and to read therein what horrors hung upon -their own future living death. O what depths and deeds of darkness and -crime are sometimes locked up in that heart where the harmonies of a -passion-restraining principle and reason have never been waked up! How -slender every foundation for any forecasting upon the character of its -doings, when trying emergences are left an appeal to its untamed and -unregulated propensities! - -The work of plunder follows the work of slaughter. The dead bodies were -thrown about in the rudest manner, and pockets searched, boxes broken -and plundered, and soon as they are fully convinced that the work of -spoils-taking is completed, and they discover no signs of remaining -life (which they hunted for diligently) to awaken suspicions of -detection, they prepare with live spoils, human and brute, to depart. - -“Soon after,” continues Olive, “we camped. A fire was struck by -means of flints and wild cotton, which they carried for the purpose. -The cattle were allowed to range upon the rock-feed, which abounded; -and even with this unnatural provision, they were secure against -being impelled by hunger far from camp, as they scarcely had strength -to move. Then came the solid dough, made of water and flour, baked -stone-hard in the hot ashes, and then soaked in bean-soup; then the -smoking of pipes by some, while others lounged lazily about the camp, -filled up the hour of our tarrying here. Food was offered me, but how -could I eat to prolong a life I now loathed. I felt neither sensations -of hunger nor a desire to live. Could I have done it, I should probably -have ended my life during moments of half-delirious, crushing anguish, -that some of the time rolled upon me with a force sufficient to divide -soul from body. But I was narrowly watched by those worse than fiends, -to whom every expression of my grief was occasion for merry-making. -I dwelt upon these awful realities, yet, at times, such I could not -think them to be, until my thoughts would become confused. Mangled as I -knew they were, I longed to go back and take one look, one long, last, -farewell look in the faces of my parents and those dear brothers. Could -I but go back and press the hands of those dear ones, though cold in -death, I would then consent to go on! There was Lucy, about seventeen -years of age, a dear girl of a sweet, mild spirit, never angry. She -had been a mother to me when our parents were absent or sick. She -had borne the peculiar burden falling upon the oldest of a family of -children, with evenness of temper and womanly fortitude. ‘Why,’ my -heart inquired, ‘should she be thus cut off and I left?’ Lorenzo I -supposed dead, for I saw him fall to the ground by the first blow that -was struck, and afterward saw them take from him hat and shoes, and -drag him to the brink of the hill by the feet. Supposing they would -dash him upon the rocks below, I turned away, unable to witness more! -Royse, a playful, gleeful boy, full of health and happiness, stood a -moment horror-struck as he witnessed the commencement of the carnage, -being furthest from the Indians. As they came up to him, he gave one -wild, piercing scream, and then sank to the earth under the club! I saw -him when the death-struggle drew his little frame into convulsions, -and then he seemed to swoon away; a low moan, a slight heaving of the -bosom, and he quietly sank into the arms of death. Little C. A. had not -as yet seen four summers; she was a cherub girl. She, with her little -brother, twenty months younger, had been saved the torments of fear -that had seized the rest of us from the time of the appearance of the -Indians. They were too young to catch the flashes of fear that played -upon the countenances of the elder children and their parents, and were -happily trustful when our father, with forced composure, bade us not -be afraid! The struggles of these two dear little ones were short. My -mother screamed, I turned, I saw her with her youngest child clasped in -her arms, and the blows of the war-club falling upon her and the child. -I sprang toward her, uttered a shriek, and found myself joining her in -calling most earnestly for help. But I had no sooner started toward -her than I was seized and thrown back by my overseer. I turned around, -found my head beginning to reel in dizziness, and fainting fell to the -ground. - -“The reader can perhaps imagine the nature of my thoughts while -standing at that camp-fire, with my sister clinging to me in convulsive -sobs and groans. From fear of the Indians, whose frowns and threats, -mingled with hellish jests, were constantly glaring upon us, she -struggled to repress and prevent any outburst of the grief that seemed -to tear her little heart. And when her feelings became uncontrollable, -she would hide her head in my arms, and most piteously sob aloud, but -she was immediately hushed by the brandishing of a war-club over her -head. - -[Illustration: THE CAPTIVES AT THE INDIAN CAMP-FIRE.] - -“While in this camp, awaiting the finished meal, and just after -twilight, the full moon arose and looked in upon our rock-girt gorge -with a majesty and sereneness that seemed to mock our changeful doom. -Indeed a more beautiful moonrise I never saw. The sky was clear, the -wind had hushed its roar, and laid by its fury; the larger and more -brilliant of the starry throng stood out clear above, despite the -superior light of the moon, which had blushed the lesser ones into -obscurity. As that moon mounted the cloudless east, yet tinged with -the last stray beauties of twilight, and sent its first mild glories -along the surrounding peaks, the scene of illumined heights, and -dark, cavernous, shade-clad hill-sides and gorges, was grand, and to -a mind unfettered with woe would have lent the inspiration of song. I -looked upon those gorges and vales, with their deeps of gloom, and -then upon the moon-kissed ridges that formed boundaries of light to -limit their shadows! I thought the former a fit exponent of my heart’s -realizations, and the whole an impressive illustration of the contrast -between my present and the recent past. That moon, ordinarily so -welcome, and that seemed supernaturally empowered to clothe the barren -heights with a richer than nature’s verdure robes, and so cheering to -us only a few evenings previous while winding our way over that dusty -road, had now suddenly put on a robe of sackcloth. All was still, save -the chattering of our captors, and the sharp, irregular howling of the -coyotes, who perform most of their odes in the night, and frequently -made it hideous from twilight to twilight again. - -“O how much crowded into that short hour spent at the first camp after -leaving the scene of death and sleeping previous! Ignorant of the -purposes of our own preservation, we could only wait in breathless -anxiety the movements of our merciless lords. I then began to meditate -upon leaving those parents, brothers and sisters; I looked up and -saw the uncovered bows strung over the wagon, the cloth of which had -been torn off by the Indians. I knew that it designated the spot -where horror and affection lingered. I meditated upon the past, the -present, and the future. The moon, gradually ascending the sky, was -fast breaking in upon the deep-shade spots that at her first rising -had contended with ridges of light spread about them. _That_ moon had -witnessed the night before my childish but sincerest vow, that I would -never be taken alive by Indian savages, and was now laughing at the -frailty of the resolution and the abruptness with which the fears to -which it pointed had become reality! _That_ moon had smiled on many, -very many hours spent in lands far away in childish glee, romps and -sports prolonged, near the home-hearth and grass-plotted door-yard, -long after the cool evening breezes had fanned away the sultry air of -the day. The very intonations of the voices that had swelled and echoed -in those uncaring hours of glee came back to me now, to rehearse in -the ears of a present, insupportable sorrow, the music of past, but -happier days. This hour, _this moon-lit hour_, was one most dear and -exclusive to the gushing forth of the heart’s unrestrained overflowings -of happiness. Where are now those girls and boys? where now are those -who gathered about me, and over whose sun-tanned but ruddy cheeks had -stolen the unbidden tear at the hour of parting; or, with an artless -simplicity, the heart’s ‘good-by’ was repeated o’er and o’er again? -Is this moon now bearing the same unmingled smile to them as when it -looked upon our mutual evening promenadings? or has it put on the -somber hues that seem to tinge its wonted brightness to me, heralding -the color of our fate, and hinting of our sorrow? These, all these, -and many more kindred reflections found way to, and strung the heart’s -saddest notes. And as memory and present consciousness told me of -those days and evenings gone--gone never to be repeated--I became sick -of life, and resolved upon stopping its currents with my own hands; -and but for the yearning anxiety that bent over little Mary Ann, I -should have only waited the opportunity to have executed my desperate -purpose. The strolls to school, arm-in-arm with the now remembered, -but abandoned partners of the blissful past, on the summer morn; the -windings and wanderings upon the distinctly remembered strawberry -patches at sultry noon; the evening walks for the cows, when the -setting sun and the coming on of cloudless, stormless, cool evenings, -clothed all nature with unwonted loveliness; together with the sad -present, that furnished so unexpected and tormenting a contrast with -all before, would rush again upon me, bringing the breath of dark, -suicidal thoughts to fire up the _first hour of a camp among the -Indians_!” - -But these harrowing meditations are suddenly interrupted; cattle are -placed in order for traveling; five of the Indians are put in charge of -the girls, and welcome or unwelcome they must away they knew not where. - -“We were started and kept upon a rapid pace for several hours. One of -the Indians takes the lead, Mary Ann and myself follow, bareheaded and -shoeless, the Indians having taken off our shoes and head covering. -We were traveling at a rate, as we soon learned, much beyond our -strength. Soon the light of the camp-fire was hid, and as my eye -turned, full of tears, in search of the sleeping-place of my kindred, -it could not be distinguished from the peaks and rocks about it. -Every slackening of our pace and utterance of grief, however, was the -signal for new threats, and the suspended war-club, with the fiendish -‘_Yokoa_’ in our ears, repressed all expression of sorrow, and pushed -us on up steeper ascents and bolder hills with a quickened step. We -must have traveled at the rate of four or five miles an hour. Our feet -were soon lacerated, as in shadowed places we were unable to pick our -way, and were frequently stumbling upon stones and rocks, which made -them bleed freely. Little Mary Ann soon became unable to proceed at -the rate we had been keeping, and sank down after a few miles, saying -she could not go. After threatening and beating her considerably, -and finding this treatment as well as my entreaties useless, they -threatened to dispatch and leave her, and showed by their movements -and gestures that they had fully come to this determination. At this I -knew not what to do; I only wished that if they should do this I might -be left with her. She seemed to have become utterly fearless of death, -and said she had rather die than live. These inhuman wretches sought by -every possible rudeness and abuse to rouse her fears and compel her on; -but all in vain. I resolved, in the event of her being left, to cling -to her, and thus compel them to dispose of us as they had the remainder -of the family, and leave us upon a neighboring hill. My fears were that -I could not succeed in my desperate purpose, and I fully believed they -would kill her, and probably compel me on with them. This fear induced -me to use every possible plea that I could make known to them to -preserve her life; besides, at every step a faint hope of release shone -upon my heart; that hope had a power to comfort and keep me up. While -thus halting, one of the stout Indians dislodged his pack, and putting -it upon the shoulders of another Indian, rudely threw Mary Ann across -his back, and with vengeance in his eye bounded on. - -“Sometimes I meditated the desperate resolution to utterly refuse to -proceed, but was held back alone by my yearning for that helpless -sister. Again, I found my strength failing, and that unless a rest -could be soon granted I _must_ yield to faintness and weariness, and -bide the consequences; thus I passed the dreadful hours up to midnight. -The moanings and sobbings of Mary Ann had now ceased; not knowing but -she was dead, I managed to look in her face, and found her eyes opening -and shutting alternately, as if in an effort to wake, but still unable -to sleep; I spoke to her but received no answer. We could not converse -without exciting the fiendish rage of our enemies. Mary Ann seemed to -have become utterly indifferent to all about her; and, wrapped in a -dreamy reverie, relieved of all care of life or death, presenting the -appearance of one who had simply the consciousness that some strange, -unaccountable event had happened, and in its bewildering effects she -was content to remain. Our way had been mostly over a succession of -small bluff points of high mountain chains, these letting down to a -rough winding valley, running principally northeast. These small rock -hills that formed the bottom of the high cliffs on either side, were -rough, with no perceptible trail. We halted for a few moments about -the middle of the night; besides this we had no rest until about noon -of the next day, when we came to an open place of a few acres of -level, sandy soil, adorned with an occasional thrifty, beautiful tree, -but high and seemingly impassable mountains hemming us in on every -side. This appeared to be to our captors a familiar retreat. Almost -exhausted, and suffering extremely, I dragged myself up to the place -of halt, hoping that we had completed the travel of that day. We had -tarried about two hours when the rest of the band, who had taken the -stock in another direction, came up. They had with them two oxen and -the horse. The rest of the stock, we afterward learned, had been killed -and hung up to dry, awaiting the roving of this plundering band when -another expedition should lead them that way. Here they immediately -proceeded to kill the other two. This being done they sliced them -up, and closely packed the parcels in equalized packages for their -backs. They then broiled some of the meat on the fire, and prepared -another meal of this and burned dough and bean soup. They offered us -of their fare and we ate with a good appetite. Never did the tender, -well-prepared veal steak at home relish better than the tough, stringy -piece of meat about the size of the hand, given us by our captors, and -which with burned dough and a little bean soup constituted our meal. -We were very sleepy, but such was my pain and suffering I could not -sleep. They endeavored now to compel Mary Ann again to go on foot; but -this she could not do, and after beating her again, all of which she -took without a murmur, one of them again took her upon his shoulder and -we started. I had not gone far before I found it impossible to proceed -on account of the soreness of my feet. They then gave me something -very much of the substance of sole-leather which they tied upon the -bottom of my feet. This was a relief, and though suffering much from -thirst and the pain of over-exertion, I was enabled to keep up with the -heavy-laden Indians. We halted in a snug, dark ravine about ten o’clock -that night, and preparations were at once made for a night’s stay. My -present suffering had now made me almost callous as to the past, and -never did rest seem so sweet as when I saw they were about to encamp. - -“During the last six hours they had whipped Mary Ann into walking. -We were now shown a soft place in the sand, and directed to it as the -place of our rest; and with two of our own blankets thrown over us, and -three savages encircling us, (for protection of course!) were soon, -despite our physical sufferings, in a dreamy and troubled sleep. The -most frightful scenes of butchery and suffering followed into every -moment’s slumber. We were not roused until a full twilight had shone in -upon our beautiful little ravine retreat. The breakfast was served up, -consisting of beef, burned dough, and beans, instead of beans, burned -dough, and beef, as usual. The sun was now fairly upon us when, like -cattle, we were driven forth to another day’s travel. The roughest -road (if road be a proper term) over which I ever passed, in all my -captivity, was that day’s route. Twice during the day, I gave up, and -told Mary I must consent to be murdered and left, for proceed I would -not. But this they were not inclined to allow. When I could not be -driven, I was pushed and hauled along. Stubs, rocks, and gravel-strewn -mountain sides hedged up and embittered the travel of the whole day. -_That day_ is among the few days of my dreary stay among the savages, -marked by the most pain and suffering ever endured. I have since -learned that they hurried for fear of the whites, emigrant trains of -whom were not unfrequently passing that way. For protection they kept a -close watch, having not less than three guards or sentinels stationed -at a little distance from each camp we made during the entire night. I -have since thought much upon the fear manifested by these reputed brave -barbarians. They indeed seem to be borne down with the most tormenting -fear for their personal safety at all times, at home, or roaming for -plunder or hunt. And yet courage is made a virtue among them, while -cowardice is the unpardonable sin. When compelled to meet death, they -seem to muster a sullen obstinate defiance of their doom, that makes -the most of a dreaded necessity, rather than seek a preparation to meet -it with a submission which they often dissemble but never possess. - -“About noon we were suddenly surprised by coming upon a band of -Indians, eleven in number. They emerged from behind a rock point that -set out into a low, dark ravine, through which we were passing, and -every one of them was armed with bows and arrows. When they came up -they were jabbering and gesturing in the most excited manner, with -eyes fastened upon me. While some of them were earnestly conversing -with members of our band, two of them stealthily crept around us, and -one of them by his gestures and excited talk, plainly showed hostile -intentions toward us, which our captors watched with a close eye. -Suddenly one of them strung his bow, and let fly an arrow at me, which -pierced my dress, doing me no harm. - -[Illustration: ATTEMPT TO SHOOT OLIVE AND MARY ANN.] - -“He was in the act, as also the other, of hurling the second, when two -of our number sprang toward them with their clubs, while two others -snatched us one side, placing themselves between us and the drawn -bows. By this time a strong Apache had the Indian by a firm grasp, and -compelled him to desist. It was with difficulty they could be shaken -off, or their murderous purpose prevented. At one time there was likely -to be a general fight with this band (as I afterward learned them to -be) of land pirates. - -“The reason, as I afterward came to know, of the conduct of this -Indian, was that he had lost a brother in an affray with the whites -upon this same Santa Fé route, and he had sworn not to allow the -first opportunity to escape without avenging his brother’s blood by -taking the life of an American. Had their number been larger a serious -engagement would have taken place, and my life have probably been -sacrificed to this fiend’s revenge. During the skirmish of words that -preceded and for some time followed this attempt upon my life, I felt -but little anxiety, for there was little reason to hope but that we -must both perish at the best, and to me it mattered little how soon. -Friends we had none; succor, or sympathy, or help, we had no reason -to think could follow us into this wild, unknown region; and the only -question was whether we should be murdered inch by inch, or find a -sudden though savage termination to our dreadful condition, and sleep -at once quietly beyond the reach or brutality of these fiends in -death’s embrace. Indeed death seemed the only release proffered from -any source. If I had before known that the arrow would lodge in life’s -vitals, I doubt whether it would have awakened a nerve or moved a -muscle. - -“We traveled until about midnight, when our captors called a halt, -and gave us to understand we might sleep for the remainder of the -night. But, jaded as we were, and enduring as we were all manner of -pain, these were not more in the way of sleep than the wild current -of our anxious thoughts and meditations, which we found it impossible -to arrest or to leave with the dead bodies of our dear kindred. There -was scarcely a moment when the mind’s consent could be gained for -sleep. Well do I remember to have spent the larger proportion of that -half of a night in gazing upon the stars, counting those directly -over head, calling the names I had been taught to give to certain of -the planets, pointing out to my sister the old dipper, and seeking to -arrest and relieve her sadness by referring to the views we had taken -of these from the old grass-clad door-yard in front of our humble -cottage in Illinois. We spoke of the probability that these might -now be the objects of attention and sight to eyes far away; to eyes -familiar, the gleam of whose kindly radiance had so oft met ours, -and with the strength of whose vision we had so delightfully tried -our own in thus star-gazing. These scenes of a past yet unfinished -childhood came rushing upon the mind, bidding it away over the distance -that now separated them and their present occupants from us, and to -think mournfully of the still wider variance that separated their -allotment from ours. Strange as it may appear, scenes and woes like -those pressing upon us had a power to bind all sensitiveness about our -fate. Indeed, indifference is the last retreat of desperation. The -recklessness observed in the Indians, their habits of subsistence, -and all their manner and bearing toward their captives, could lead -them only to expect that by starvation or assassination they must soon -become the victims of a brutal fate. - -“On the third day we came suddenly in sight of a cluster of low, -thatched huts, each having an opening near the ground leading into -them.” - -It was soon visible from the flashing eyes and animated countenances of -the Indians, that they were nearing some place of attraction, and to -which anxious and interesting desire had been pointing. To two young -girls, having traveled on foot two hundred miles in three days; with -swollen feet and limbs, lame, exhausted, not yet four days remove from -the loss of parents, brothers, and sisters, and torn from them, too, -in the most brutal manner; away in the deeps of forests and mountains, -upon the desolation of which the glad light or sound of civilization -never yet broke; with no guides or protectors, rudely, inhumanly driven -by untutored, untamed savages, the sight of the dwelling-places of man, -however coarse or unseemly, was no very unwelcome scene. With all the -dread possibilities, therefore, that might await them at any moment, -nevertheless to get even into an Indian camp was home. - -[Illustration] - -“We were soon ushered into camp, amid shouts and song, wild dancing, -and the crudest, most irregular music that ever ranter sung, or -delighted the ear of an unrestrained superstition. They lifted us on -the top of a pile of brush and bark, then formed a circle about us -of men, women, and children of all ages and sizes, some naked, some -dressed in blankets, some in skins, some in bark. Music then commenced, -which consisted of pounding upon stones with clubs and horn, and the -drawing of a small string like a fiddle-bow across distended bark. They -ran, and jumped, and danced in the wildest and most furious manner -about us, but keeping a regular circle. Each, on coming to a certain -point in the circle, marked by a removed piece of turf in the ground, -would bend himself or herself nearly to the ground, uttering at the -same time a most frightful yell, and making a violent gesticulation -and stamping. Frequently on coming near us, as they would do in -each evolution, they would spit in our face, throw dirt upon us, -or slightly strike us with their hand, managing, by every possible -means, to give us an early and thorough impression of their barbarity, -cruelty, and obscenity. The little boys and girls, especially, would -make the older ones merry by thus taunting us. It seemed during all -this wild and disgusting performance, that their main ambition was to -exhibit their superiority over us, and the low, earnest, intense hate -they bore toward our race. And this they most effectually succeeded -in accomplishing, together with a disgusting view of the obscenity, -vulgarity, and grossness of their hearts, and the mean, despicable, -revengeful dispositions that burn with hellish fury within their -untamed bosoms. - -“We soon saw that these bravadoes had made themselves great men at -home. They had made themselves a name by the exploits of the past -week. They had wantonly set upon a laboring family of nine persons, -unprotected, and worn to fatigue by the toils of a long journey, -without any mode of defense, and had inhumanly slaughtered seven -of them, taken two inoffensive girls into a barbarous captivity, -and drove them two hundred miles in three days without that mercy -which civilization awards to the brute; taken a few sacks of smoked, -soot-covered cow-meat, a few beans, a little clothing, and one horse! -By their account, and we afterward ascertained that they have a mode of -calculating distances with wonderful accuracy, we had come indeed over -two hundred and fifty miles, inside of eighty hours. - -“This may seem incredible to the reader, but the rate at which we -were hurried on, the little rest that was granted, and subsequent -knowledge gained of their traveling rate, confirms the assertion made -by themselves as to the distance. - -“We found the tribe to consist of about three hundred, living in all -the extremes of filth and degradation that the most abandoned humanity -ever fathomed. Little had the inexperience and totally different habits -of life, from which these reflections are made, of the knowledge or -judgment to imagine or picture the low grossness to which unrestrained, -uneducated passions can sink the human heart and life. Their mode of -dress, (but little dress they had!) was needlessly and shockingly -indecent, when the material of which their scanty clothing consists -would, by an industrious habit and hand, have clothed them to the -dictates of comfort and modesty. - -“They subsisted principally upon deer, quail, and rabbit, with an -occasional mixture of roots from the ground. And even this dealt out -with the most sparing and parsimonious hand, and in quantity only up -to a stern necessity; and this, not because of poverty in the supply, -but to feed and gratify a laziness that would not gather or hunt it. - -“It was only when the insatiable and half-starved appetite of the -members was satisfied, when unusual abundance chanced to come in, -that their captives could be allowed a morsel; and then their chance -was that of the dogs, with whom they might share the crumbs. Their -meat was boiled with water in a ‘Tusquin,’ (clay kettle,) and this -meat-mush or soup was the staple of food among them, and of this they -were frequently short, and obliged to quiet themselves with meted out -allowance; to their captives it was always thus meted out. At times -game in the immediate vicinity was scarce, and their indolence would -not let them go forth to the chase upon the mountains and in the -valleys a little distance, where they acknowledged it plenty, only -in cases of impending starvation. During the time of captivity among -them, very frequently were whole days spent without a morsel, and then -when the hunter returned with game, he was surrounded with crowds -hungry as a pack of wolves to devour it, and the bits and leavings -were tauntingly thrown to ‘Onatas,’ saying, ‘You have been fed too -well; we will teach you to live on little.’ Besides all this, they -were disbelievers in the propriety of treating female youth to meat, -or of allowing it to become their article of subsistence; which, -considering their main reliance as a tribe upon game, was equal to -dooming their females to starvation. And this result of their theory -became a mournful and constantly recurring fact. According to their -physiology the female, especially the young female, should be allowed -meat only when necessary to prevent starvation. Their own female -children frequently died, and those alive, old and young, were sickly -and dwarfish generally. - -“Several times were their late captives brought near a horrid death ere -they could be persuaded to so waive their superstitious notions as to -give them a saving crumb. - -“These Apaches were without any settled habits of industry. They tilled -not. It was a marvel to see how little was required to keep them alive; -yet they were capable of the greatest endurance when occasion taxed -their strength. They ate worms, grasshoppers, reptiles, _all flesh_, -and were, perhaps, living exhibitions of a certain theory by which -the nature of the animal eaten leaves its imprint upon the man or -human being who devours it. For whole days, when scarcely a morsel for -another meal was in the camp, would those stout, robust, lazy lumps -of a degraded humanity lounge in the sun or by the gurgling spring; -at noon in the shade or on the shelves of the mountains surrounding, -utterly reckless of their situation, or of the doom their idleness -might bring upon the whole tribe. Their women were the laborers and -principal burden-bearers, and during all our captivity,” says Olive, -“it was our lot to serve under these enslaved women, with a severity -more intolerable than that to which they were subjected by their -merciless lords. They invented modes, and seemed to create necessities -of labor, that they might gratify themselves by taxing us to the -utmost, and even took unwarranted delight in whipping us on beyond our -strength. And all their requests and exactions were couched in the most -insulting and taunting language and manner, as it then seemed, and as -they had the frankness soon to confess, to fume their hate against the -race to whom we belonged. - -“Often under the frown and lash were we compelled to labor for whole -days upon an allowance amply sufficient to starve a common dandy -civilized idler, and those days of toil wrung out at the instance of -children younger than ourselves, who were set as our task-masters. -They knew nothing of cultivating the soil. After we had learned their -language enough to talk with them, we ventured to speak to them of the -way by which we had lived, of the tilling of the ground. - -“They had soil that might have produced, but most of them had an -abhorrence of all that might be said of the superior blessings -of industry and the American civilization. Yet there were those, -especially among the females and the younger members of the tribe, who -asked frequent questions, and with eagerness, of our mode of life. -For some time after coming among them, Mary Ann was very ill. The -fatigue, the cruelties of the journey, nearly cost her her life; yet -in all her weakness, sickness, and pinings, they treated her with all -the heartlessness of a dog. She would often say to me: ‘Olive, I must -starve unless I can get something more to eat;’ yet it was only when -she was utterly disabled that they would allow her a respite from some -daily menial service. We have often taken the time which was given -to gather roots for our lazy captors, to gather and eat ourselves; -and had it not been for supplies obtained by such means, we must have -perished. But the physical sufferings of this state were light when -compared with the fear and anguish of mind; the bitter fate upon us, -the dismal remembrances that harassed us, the knowledge of a bright -past and a dark future by which we were compassed, these, all these -belabored every waking moment, and crowded the wonted hours of sleep -with terrible forebodings of a worse fate still ahead. Each day seemed -to be allotted its own peculiar woes; some circumstance, some new event -would arise, touching and enkindling its own class of bitter emotions. -We were compelled to heed every whimper and cry of their little urchins -with promptness, and fully, under no less penalty than a severe -beating, and that in the most severe manner. These every-day usages -and occurrences would awaken thorny reflections upon our changed and -prison life. There was no beauty, no loveliness, no attractions in the -country possessed by these unlovely creatures to make it pleasant, if -there had been the blotting out of all the dreadful realities that -had marked our way to it, or the absence of the cruelties that made -our stay a living death. Often has my little sister come to me with -a heart surcharged with grief, and the big tears standing in her -eye, or perhaps sobbing most convulsively over the maltreatment and -chastisement that had met her good intentions, for she ever tried to -please them, and most piteously would she say: ‘How long, O how long, -dear Olive, must we stay here; can we never get away? do you not think -they intend to kill us? O! they are so ugly and savage!’ Sometimes I -would tell her that I saw but little chance for escape; that we had -better be good and ready for any fate, and try to wait in submission -for our lot. - -“She would dry her eyes, wipe the tears away, and not seldom have I -known her to return with a look of pensive thoughtfulness, and that -eye, bright and glistening with the light of a new-born thought, as -she would say: ‘I know what we can do; we can ask God. He can deliver -us, or give us grace to bear our troubles.’ It was our custom to go by -ourselves and commit ourselves to God in faithful prayer every day; and -this we would do after we laid our weary frames upon our sand bed to -rest, if no other opportunity offered. This custom had been inculcated -in us by a fond and devoted mother, and well now did we remember with -what affection she assured us that we would find it a comfort and -support to thus carry our trials and troubles to our heavenly Father -in after years; though little did she realize the exceedingly bitter -grief that would make these lessons of piety so sweet to our hearts. -Too sadly did they prove true. Often were the times when we were sent -some distance to bring water and wood for the comfort of lazy men, -selected for the grateful observance of this only joyful employment -that occupied any of those dark days. - -“Seldom during our stay here were we cheered with any knowledge or -circumstance that bid us hope for our escape. Hours were spent by us -in talking of trying the experiment. Mary often would say: ‘I can find -the way out, and I can go the whole distance as quick as they.’ Several -times, after cruel treatment, or the passing of danger from starvation, -have we made the resolution, and set the time for executing it, but -were not bold enough to undertake it. Yet we were not without _all_ or -_any_ hope. A word dropped by our captors concerning their occasional -trips, made by small bands of them to some region of the whites, some -knowledge we would accidentally gain of our latitude and locality, -would animate our breasts with the hope of a future relief, breaking -like a small ray of light from some distant luminous object upon the -eye of our faith. But it was only when our minds dwelt upon the power -of the Highest, on an overruling Providence, that we could feel that -there was any possibility of an extrication from our uncheered prison -life. - -“After we had been among these Apaches several months, their conduct -toward us somewhat changed. They became more lenient and merciful, -especially to my sister. She always met their abuse with a mild, -patient spirit and deportment, and with an intrepidity and fortitude -beyond what might have been expected from her age. This spirit, -which she always bore, I could plainly see was working its effect -upon some of them; so that, especially on the part of those females -connected in some way with the household of the chief, and who had -the principal control of us, we could plainly see more forbearance, -kindness, and interest exhibited toward their captives. This, slight -as was the change, was a great relief to my mind, and comfort to Mary -Ann. We had learned their language so as to hold converse with them -quite understandingly, after a few months among them. They were much -disposed at times to draw us into conversation; they asked our ages, -inquired after our former place of living, and when we told them of -the distance we had come to reach our home among them, they greatly -marveled. They would gather about us frequently in large numbers, and -ply their curious questions with eagerness and seeming interest, -asking how many of the white folks there were; how far the big ocean -extended; and on being told of the two main oceans, they asked if the -whites possessed the other big world on the east of the Atlantic; if -there were any Indians there; particularly they would question us as -to the number of the ‘Americanos,’ (this term they obtained among the -Mexicans, and it was the one by which they invariably designated our -people.) When we told them of the number of the whites, and of their -rapid increase, they were apparently incredulous, and some of them -would become angry, and accuse us of lying, and wishing to make them -believe a lie. They wanted to know how women were treated, and if a -man was allowed more than one wife; inquired particularly how and by -what means a subsistence was gained by us. In this latter question -we could discern an interest that did not inspire any of their other -queries. Bad as they are, they are very curious to know the secret of -the success and increase of the whites. We tried to tell them of the -knowledge the whites possessed, of the well-founded belief they had -that the stars above us were peopled by human beings, and of the fact -that the distance to these far-off worlds had been measured by the -whites. They wished to know if any of us had been there; this they -asked in a taunting manner, exhibiting in irony and sarcasm their -incredulity as to the statement, over which they made much sport and -ridicule. They said if the stars were inhabited, the people would -drop out, and hence they knew that this was a lie. I found the months -and years in which I had been kept in school, not altogether useless -in answering their questions. I told them that the earth turned round -every twenty-four hours, and also of its traveling about the sun every -year. Upon this they said we were just like all the Americanos, big -liars, and seemed to think that our parents had begun young with us to -learn us so perfectly the art of falsehood so early. But still we could -see, through all their accusations of falsehood, by their astonishment, -and discussion, and arguments upon the matter of our conversation, -they were not wholly unbelieving. They would tell us, however, that an -‘evil spirit’ reigned among the whites, and that he was leading them -on to destruction. They seemed sincere in their belief that there were -scarcely any of the whites that could be trusted, but that they had -evil assistance, which made them great and powerful. As to any system -of religion or morality, they seemed to be beneath it. But we found, -though the daily tasks upon us were not abated, yet our condition -was greatly mollified; and we had become objects of their growing -curiosity, mere playthings, over which they could make merry. - -“They are much given to humor and fun, but it generally descends to -low obscenity and meanness. They had great contempt for one that would -complain under torture or suffering, even though of their own tribe, -and said a person that could not uncomplainingly endure suffering was -not fit to live. They asked us if we wanted to get away, and tried by -every stratagem to extort from us our feelings as to our captivity; but -we were not long in learning that any expression of discontent was the -signal for new toils, and tasks, and grievances. We made the resolution -between us to avoid any expression of discontent, which, at times, it -cost us no small effort to keep. - -“We learned that this tribe was a detached parcel of the old and -more numerous tribe bearing their name, and whose locality was in -the regions of New-Mexico. They had become in years gone, impatient -of the restraint put upon them by the Catholic missionaries, and had -resolved upon emancipation from their control, and had accordingly -sought a home in the wild fastnesses of these northern mountains. The -old tribe had since given them the name of the ‘Touto Apaches,’ an -appellation signifying their unruliness, as well as their roving and -piratical habits. They said that the old tribe was much more wicked -than themselves, and that they would be destroyed by the whites.” - -Beyond the manuscript touching the geography and appearance of the -country where the scenes of this book were laid, and which was prepared -for previous editions, there is considerable concerning the peculiar -superstitions and crude beliefs of these Indians, as well as upon -histories treasured up by them touching their tribes and individual -members of them, which we believe would be read with interest, but -scarcely a tithe of which can we give without swelling this book beyond -all due bounds. Of these histories it is not to be supposed that more -than mere scraps could have been gleaned by Olive, when we remember her -age, and that all that is remembered is from mere verbal recital. - -The Indians would congregate on evenings set apart, when one of their -number, most in years and of prominent position, would entertain -the company with a narration, frequently long and tedious, of the -adventures of his youthful days. On one of these occasions an old -Indian spoke as follows: “I am the son of an Indian who was chief of -the Camanche tribe. I had heard often of the white people. I longed to -see one. I was told by my father one day that I might, with some of -the warriors of the tribe, go on a hunt to the north, and also that we -would probably find some white people; if so, that we must kill them, -and bring in their scalps with any white captive girls if we could find -them. We had so many (counting his fingers up to three) bows and so -many (forty-eight) arrows each. - -“The most of my desire was to see and kill a white man, and take some -captives. We traveled a very long way. We passed through several tribes -of Indians. We found, according to the accounts of some Indians away -to the north, that there were white people near them, but that we must -not touch them; that they were friendly and traded with themselves; -that some of their squaws were married to them; that they (the whites) -came from the great _Auhah_ (sea) to the setting sun. One day, about -dark, we came in view of an object that we thought at first to be -a bear. We soon found it was a man. We waited and skulked for some -time to find out, if possible, whether it was a man, and how many -of them there were. We stayed all night in this condition, and it -was very cold. Just before fair day, we moved slowly round the place -where we had seen the object. As we thought we had got past it and -not espied anything, we concluded to go on, when we were suddenly met -by a huge-looking thing with a covering (skin) such as we had never -before seen. We were surprised and did not know what to do. It was -partly behind a rock, and we were too much scared to draw our bows. -After a word together, (there were four of us,) we concluded to run. -So we started. We had not gone far when an Indian jumped out after us, -threw an _umsupieque_ (white blanket) from his head, and called to us -to stop. We had never seen this umsupieque before. We were very much -ashamed. We thought at first, and when we ran, that some of our friends -had been killed and had come (or their ghosts) to meet us. The Indian, -a Chimowanan, came up to us, and began to laugh at our bravery! We were -much ashamed, but we could not help it now. We left the Indian, after -making him promise that he would not tell of us. - -“When we had traveled one day, with no game or anything to eat, we came -to a small house built of wood. We thought it the house of a white man. -We skulked in the bushes, and thought we would watch it until they -should come out, or, if away, come home. We waited one day and two -nights, eating nothing but a few roots. We saw no one, so we set fire -to the house and went on. We were more afraid of the Indians than the -whites, for they had said they would kill us if we touched the whites. -A few days after this we saw another house; we watched that a long -time, then burned it, and started for home. This is all we did. When we -came home our tribe turned out to see us, and hear of our war-hunt. We -had but little to say. - -“The next year, the Indian who had scared us with the white blanket, -came among us. I saw him, and made him promise not to tell my father -what a coward I had shown myself when I met him; but I soon found -that all the tribe knew all about it. When the tribe were gathered -together one day for a dance, they laughed at me and about me for my -running from the Indian. I found that the Indian had told some of the -tribe, and they had told my father. My father joined with the rest -in making fun of me for it. I blamed him, and felt mad enough to kill -him. He found it out, so, just before we separated, he called them -all together, and told them that he had displeased his son by what he -had said of me, and now he wanted to make it all right. He said, just -before he sat down, that if ever they should be attacked, he should -feel that they were safe, that he knew his son and those who went north -to kill white people would be safe, for they had shown themselves good -at running. This maddened me more than ever, and up to this day I have -not heard the last of my running from the Indian. I am now old, my head -is nearly bald, the hairs that have fallen from my head have grown up -to be some of these I now see about me. I shall soon go to yonder hill. -I want you to burn my bow and arrow with my body, so that I can hunt up -there.” - -“The ‘Toutos’ had, however, for a long time occupied their present -position, and almost the only tribe with whom they had any intercourse -was the Mohaves, (Mo-ha-vays,) a tribe numbering about twelve hundred, -and located three hundred miles to the northwest. - -“There were many, however, who had come from other and different -tribes. Some from the north, some from the south and southwest. Hence -there was a marked distinction among their features and appearance. -It seemed from what we could learn that this Touton tribe, or -secession fragment, had from their villainous propensities fled to -this hiding-place, and since their separation been joined by scattered -members and stray families from other tribes, persons whom Touton bands -had fallen in with during their depredating trips abroad, and who from -community of feeling and life had thus amalgamated together. - -“For a few years constant traffic had been kept up between the Mohaves -and Toutons. The Mohaves made an expedition once a year, sometimes -oftener, to the Apaches, in small companies, bringing with them -vegetables, grain, and the various products of their soil, which -they would exchange with the Apaches for fur, skins of animals, and -all of the few articles that their different mode of life furnished. -During the autumn of 1851, late in the season, quite a large company -of Mohaves came among us on a trading expedition. But the whole -transactions of one of these expeditions did not comprise the amount of -wealth or business of one hour’s ordinary shopping of a country girl. -This was the first acquaintance we had with those superior Indians. -During their stay we had some faint hints that it was meditated to -sell us to the Mohaves in exchange for vegetables, which they no doubt -regarded as more useful for immediate consumption than their captives. -But still it was only a hint that had been given us, and the curiosity -and anxiety it created soon vanished, and we sank again into the -daily drudging routine of our dark prison life. Months rolled by, -finding us early and late at our burden-bearing and torturing labors, -plying hands and feet to heed the demands of our lazy lords, and the -taunts and exactions of a swarm of heathen urchins, sometimes set over -us. But since the coming of these Mohaves a new question had been -presented, and a new source of anxious solicitude had been opened. -Hours at a time were spent apart, dwelling upon and conversing about -the possibilities and probabilities, with all the gravity of men in the -council of state, of our being sold to another tribe, and what might be -its effects upon us. At times it was considered as the possible means -by which an utter and hopeless bondage might be sealed upon us for -life. It was seen plainly that the love of traffic predominated among -these barbarous hordes; that the lives of their captives would be but -a small weight in the balance, if they interfered with their lust of -war or conquest, if gain without toil might be gratified. It was feared -that the deep-seated hostility which they bore to the white race, the -contempt which they manifested to their captives, united with the fear -(which their conduct had more than once exhibited) that they might be -left without that constant, vigilant oversight that was so great a tax -upon their indolence to maintain over them, that they might return to -their own people and tell the tale of their sufferings and captivity, -and thus bring down upon them the vengeance of the whites; that all -these causes might induce them to sell their captives to the most -inaccessible tribe, and thus consign them to a captivity upon which the -light of hope or the prospect of escape could not shine.” - -On a little mound, a short distance from the clustered, smoking -wigwams, constituting the Apache village, on a pleasant day, see these -two captive girls, their root baskets laid aside, and side by side upon -the ground, sitting down to a few moments’ conversation. They talk of -the year that has now nearly closed, the first of their captivity, the -bitterness that had mingled in the cup of its allotment, of their dead, -who had now slept one year of their last sleep, and with much concern -they are now querying about what might be the intentions of the Mohaves -in their daily expected coming again so soon among the Apaches. - -Mary Ann says: “I believe they will sell us; I overheard one of the -chiefs say something the other day in his wigwam, about our going among -the Mohaves, and it was with some words about their expected return. I -do not know, but from what I saw of them I think they know more, and -live better than these miserable Apaches.” - -Olive. “But may be they put on the best side when here, they might -treat us worse than the Apaches.” - -M. A. “O, that will be impossible without they kill us, and if we -cannot escape, the sooner we die the better. I wish, Olive, you would -agree to it, and we will start to-night and try to make our escape.” - -O. “But where shall we go? We know not the way we came, much of it was -traveled in the night, besides this, these Indians have their trails -well known to them, leading through all these mountains, and we could -not get upon one where they would not be sure to head us, and you know -they say they have spies continually out to let the tribe know when any -of their enemies come into the vicinity of their village.” - -M. A. “Well, Olive, how often have you told me that were it not for a -very faint hope you have of getting away, and your concern for me, you -would rather die than live. And you know we both think they intend to -sell us, and if they sell us to these Mohaves we will have to travel -three hundred miles, and I can never live through it. I have a severe -cough now, and almost every night I take more cold. Ma always said ‘her -Mary Ann would die with consumption,’ but she did not think, I guess, -of such a consumption as this.” - -“Poor girl,” thought Olive, half aloud, “how her eyes glisten, how her -cheeks every day become more spare and pale, and her black, flashing -eye is sinking into her head.” Olive turned her head carelessly, wiped -the tear from her eye, and looking again in the upturned face of her -sister, said: “Why, Mary, if you are afraid that you would perish in -traveling to the Mohave country, how could you stand the roving day and -night among the hills, and we should be obliged, you know, to travel -away from the trail for a week, perhaps a month, living on roots?” - -M. A. “As for roots, they are about all we get now, and I had rather -live on them in trying to get away than in staying here, or being -driven like oxen again three hundred miles.” - -By this time the little pale face of her sister kindled with such an -enthusiasm that Olive could hardly avoid expressing the effect it had -upon her own mind. Mary was about to continue when her sister, seeing -an Indian near them, bade her hush, and they were about to renew their -work when Mary said: “Look! who are those? they are Indians, they are -those very Mohaves! See! they have a horse, and there is a squaw among -them.” - -[Illustration] - -The Indian, who was approaching them, had by this time caught a view -of them, and was running to camp to spread the news. “I had,” says the -older, “now no doubt that the approaching company were Mohaves, and -I was half inclined to improve the excitement and carelessness that -would prevail for a while after their coming among us, to slip away, -taking good care to make sure of a piece of meat, a few roots, and -something to kill myself with if I should find myself about falling -into the hands of pursuers. But in more sober moments we thought it -well that this fear of being again caught, and of torture they would -be sure to inflict, if we should be unsuccessful, kept us from such -a desperate step. The Mohave party are now descending a slope to the -Apache village, and roaring, yelling, and dancing prevail through -the gathering crowd of Apaches. The party consisted of five men, and -a young woman under twenty years. It was not long ere two of the -chiefs came to us, and told us that these Mohaves had come after us, -according to a contract made with them at a previous visit; that the -party had been back to obtain the sanction of Espaniole, the Mohave -chief, to the contract, and that now the chief had sent his own -daughter to witness to his desire to purchase the white captives. The -chief had, however, left it with his daughter to approve or annul the -contract that had been made.” - -This daughter of the chief was a beautiful, mild, and sympathizing -woman. Her conduct and behavior toward these Apache captives bespoke -a tutoring, and intelligence, and sweetness of disposition that won -their interest at once. She could use the Apache language with fluency, -and was thus enabled to talk with the captives for whom she had come. -She told her designs to them, and had soon settled it in her mind to -approve the contract previously made. - -During that evening there was much disquiet and misrule throughout -the village. The agitated and interested captives, though having -been informed that all the negotiations had been completed for their -transfer, were much perplexed to learn the reasons of the excitement -still raging. - -There was a studied effort, which was plainly perceived by them, to -cover the matter of the councils and heated debates, which occupied -the whole night from them; but, by remarks which reached them from -different ones, they learned that their destiny was in a very critical -suspense. There was a strong party who were angrily opposed to the -acceptance of the Mohave propositions, among whom were the murderers of -the Oatman family. - -Different ones sought by every possible means to draw out the feelings -of their captives to the proposed removal. One in particular, a young -Indian woman, who had forced a disagreeable intimacy with Olive, sought -to make her say that she would rather go to the Mohaves. The discretion -of the captive girl, however, proved equal to the treachery of the -Indian mistress, and no words of complaint, or expressions of desire, -could the latter glean to make a perverted report of at head-quarters. -The artful Miss To-aquin had endeavored from the first, under friendly -pretenses, to acquaint herself with the American language, and -succeeded in acquiring a smattering of it. But her eaves-dropping -propensities had made the intended victims of her treachery wary, -since they had known, in several instances, of her false reports and -tale-bearings to the chief. - -While sitting alone by a small fire in their wigwam, late in the night, -this Jezebel came and seated herself by them, and with her smiles and -rattling tongue, feigning an anxious interest in their welfare, said, -in substance: - -“I suppose you are glad you are going to the Mohaves? But I always -hated them; they will steal, and lie, and cheat. Do you think you will -get away? I suppose you do. But these miserable Mohaves are going to -sell you to another tribe; if they do not, it will not be long ere they -will kill you. O, I am very sad because you are going away! I hoped to -see you free in a short time; but I know you will never get back to the -whites now. Suppose you will try, will you not?” - -Olive replied: “We are captives, and since our parents and all our -kindred are dead, it matters little where we are, there or here. We are -treated better than we deserve, perhaps; and we shall try to behave -well, let them treat us as they may; and as to getting away, you know -it would be impossible and foolish for us to try.” - -“The Mohave party professed that it was out of kindness to us that they -had come to take us with them; that they knew of the cruel treatment we -were suffering among the Apaches, and intended to use us well. - -“This would all have been very comforting to us, and it was only to us -they made this plea, had we been prepared to give them credit for the -absence of that treachery which had been found, so far, as natural to -an Indian as his breath. But their natures do not grow sincerity, and -their words are to have no weight in judging of their characters. To us -it was only gloom that lay upon our way, whether to the Mohaves or to -stay in our present position. Their real design it was useless to seek -to read until its execution came. - -“Sunrise, which greeted us ere we had a moment’s sleep, found the party -prepared to leave, and we were coolly informed by our captors that we -must go with them. Two horses, a few vegetables, a few pounds of beads, -and three blankets we found to be our price in that market. - -“We found that there were those among the Apaches who were ready to -tear us in pieces when we left, and they only wanted a few more to -unite with them, to put an end to our lives at once. They now broke -forth in the most insulting language to us, and to the remainder of the -tribe for bargaining us away. Some laughed, a few among the children, -who had received a care and attention from us denied by their natural -parents, cried, and a general pow-wow rent the air as we started upon -another three hundred miles’ trip.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - The Journey of three hundred and fifty Miles to the Mohave - Valley--The Means of Subsistence during the Time--The Conduct of - the Mohaves compared with the Apaches--Arrive at the Valley--The - Village--The Chief’s Residence--Their Joy at the Return of Topeka, - their Daughter--The Greeting of the new Captives--One Year of Labor - and Suffering--The Overflowing of the Colorado--Their Dependence - upon it--Their Habits--Cultivation of the Soil--Scarcity of - Provisions--Starvation--Mary Ann--Her Decline--Olive’s Care, Grief, - and Efforts to save her life--Dies of Famine--Many of the Indian - Children die--Burial of Mary Ann--The Sympathy and Sorrow of the - Chief’s Wife. - - -“We were informed at the outset that we had three hundred and fifty -miles before us, and all to be made on foot. Our route we soon found -to be in no way preferable to the one by which the Apache village had -been reached. It was now about the first day of March, 1852. One year -had been spent by us in a condition the most abject, the most desolate, -with treatment the most cruel that barbarity and hate could invent, and -this all endured without the privilege of a word from ourselves to turn -the scale in this direction or that, in a rugged, rocky country, filled -with bare mountains or lesser hills with slight vegetation, and that -tame and tasteless, or irregular piles of boulders and gravel beds; -we were now being hurried on under Indian guardianship alone, we knew -not where nor for what purpose. We had not proceeded far ere it was -painfully impressed upon our feet, if not our aching hearts, that this -trail to a second captivity was no improvement on the first, whatever -might be the fate awaiting us at its termination. We had been under -tutorage for one whole year in burden bearing, and labor even beyond -our strength, but a long walk or run, as this proved, we had not been -driven to during that time. - -“Mary Ann, poor girl, entered upon this trip with less strength or -fortitude to encounter its hardships than the one before. She had -not proceeded far before I saw plainly that she would not be able to -stand it long. With the many appearances of kindness that our present -overseers put on, yet they seemed to be utterly destitute of any heart -or will to enter into the feelings of those who had been brought up -more delicately than themselves, or to understand their inability to -perform the task dictated by their rough and hardy habits. Our feet -soon became sore, and we were unable, on the second day after about -noon, to keep up with their rapid pace. A small piece of meat was put -into our hands on starting, and this with the roots we were allowed to -dig, and these but few, was our sole subsistence for ten days. - -“With much complaining, and some threatening from our recent captors, -we were allowed to rest on the second day a short time. After this we -were not compelled to go more than thirty-five miles any one day, and -pieces of skins were furnished for our feet, but not until they had -been needlessly bruised and mangled without them. The nights were cool, -and, contrary to our expectations, the daughter of the chief showed us -kindness throughout the journey by sharing her blankets with us at each -camp. - -“Of all rough, uncouth, irregular, and unattractive countries through -which human beings trail, the one through which that ten days’ march -led us, must remain unsurpassed. - -“On the eleventh day, about two hours before sunset, we made a bold -steep ascent (and of such we had been permitted to climb many) from -which we had an extensive view on either side. - -“Before us, commencing a little from the foot of our declivity, lay a -narrow valley covered with a carpet of green, stretching a distance, -seemingly, of twenty miles. On either side were the high, irregularly -sloped mountains, with their foot hills robed in the same bright green -as the valley, and with their bald humpbacks and sharp peaks, treeless, -verdureless, and desolate, as if the tempests of ages had poured their -rage upon their sides and summits. - -“Our guides soon halted. We immediately observed by their movements -and manifestations that some object beyond the loveliness that nature -had strewn upon that valley, was enrapturing their gaze. We had stood -gazing a few moments only, when the smoke at the distance of a few -miles, winding in gentle columns up the ridges, spoke to us of the -abodes or tarrying of human beings. Very soon there came into the field -of our steady view a large number of huts, clothing the valley in every -direction. We could plainly see a large cluster of these huts huddled -into a nook in the hills on our right and on the bank of a river, whose -glassy waters threw the sunlight in our face; its winding, zigzag -course pointed out to us by the row of beautiful cottonwood trees that -thickly studded its vicinity. - -“‘Here, Olive,’ said Mary Ann, ‘is the place where they live. O isn’t -it a beautiful valley? It seems to me I should like to live here.’ - -“‘May be,’ said I, ‘that you will not want to go back to the whites any -more.’ - -“‘O yes, there is green grass and fine meadows there, besides good -people to care for us; these savages are enough to make any place look -ugly, after a little time.’ - -“We were soon ushered into the ‘Mohave Valley,’ and had not proceeded -far before we began to pass the low, rude huts of the Mohave settlers. -They greeted us with shouts, and dance, and song as we passed. Our -guides kept up, however, a steady unheeding march for the village, -occasionally joined by fierce, filthy-looking Mohaves, and their more -filthy-looking children, who would come up, look rudely in our faces, -fasten their deep-set, small, flashing eyes upon us, and trip along, -with merry-making, hallooing, and dancing at our side. - -“We were conducted immediately to the home of the chief, and welcomed -with the staring eyes of collecting groups, and an occasional -smile from the members of the chief’s family, who gave the warmest -expressions of joy over the return of their daughter and sister so long -absent. Seldom does our civilization furnish a more hearty exhibition -of affection for kindred, than welcomed the coming in of this member -of the chief’s family, though she had been absent but a few days. The -chief’s house was on a beautiful but small elevation crowning the river -bank, from which the eye could sweep a large section of the valley, and -survey the entire village, a portion of which lined each bank of the -stream. - -“As a model, and one that will give a correct idea of the form -observed, especially in their village structures, we may speak of -the chief’s residence. When we reached the outskirts of the town we -observed upon the bank of the river a row of beautiful cottonwood -trees, just putting out their new leaves and foliage, their branches -interlocking, standing in a row, about a perfect square of about one -hundred feet, and arranged in taste. They were thrifty, and seemed fed -from a rich soil, and with other plots covered with the same growths, -and abounding throughout the village, presented truly an oasis in -the general desert of country upon which we had been trailing our -painful walk for the last ten days, climbing and descending, with -unshapen rocks, and sharp gravel, and burning sands for our pavement. -Immediately behind the row of trees first spoken of, was a row of poles -or logs, each about six inches in diameter and standing close to each -other, one end firmly set in the ground and reaching up about twenty -feet, forming an inclosure of about fifty feet square. - -“We entered this inclosure through a door, (never shut,) and found a -tidy yard, grass-plotted. Inside of this was still another inclosure -of about twenty feet, walled by the same kind of fence, only about -one third as high. Running from front to rear, and dividing this -dwelling-place of the Mohave magnate into equal parts, stood a row of -these logs stuck in the ground, and running up about three feet above -the level top of the outside row, and forming a ridge for the resting -of the roof. The roof was a thick mat of limbs and mud. A few blankets, -a small smoking fire near the door, with naked walls over which the -finishing hand of the upholsterer had never passed, a floor made when -all _terra firma_ was created, welcomed us to the interior. - -“The daughter of the chief had been kind to us, if kindness could be -shown under their barbarous habits and those rates of travel while on -our way. She was more intelligent and seemed capable of more true -sympathy and affection, than any we had yet met in our one year’s -exile. She was of about seventeen years, sprightly, jovial, and -good-natured, and at times manifested a deep sympathy for us, and a -commiseration of our desolate condition. But though she was daughter -of the chief, their habits of barbarousness could not bend to courtesy -even toward those of rank. She had walked the whole distance to the -Apaches, carrying a roll of blankets, while two horses were rode by two -stalwart, healthy Mohaves by her side. - -“On entering the house Topeka, who had accompanied us, gave an -immediate and practical evidence that her stinted stomach had not -become utterly deaf to all the demands of hunger. Seeing a cake -roasting in the ashes, she seized it, and dividing it into three parts, -she gave me the Benjamin portion and bade us eat, which was done with -greediness and pleasant surprise. - -“Night came on and with it the gathering of a large concourse of -Indians, their brown, stout wives and daughters, and swarms of little -ones whose faces and bare limbs would have suggested anything else -sooner than the near vicinity of clear water, or their knowledge of its -use for purifying purposes. - -“The Indians were mostly tall, stout, with large heads, broad faces, -and of a much more intelligent appearance than the Apaches. Bark-clad, -where clad at all, the scarcity of their covering indicating either -a warm climate or a great destitution of the clothing material, or -something else. - -“Their conduct during that night of wild excitement, was very different -from that by which our coming among the Apaches was celebrated. That -was one of selfish iron-hearted fiends, glutting over a murderous, -barbarous deed of death and plunder; this was that of a company of -indolent, superstitious, and lazy heathen, adopting the only method -which their darkness and ignorance would allow to signify their joy -over the return of kindred and the delighted purchase of two foreign -captives. They placed us out upon the green, and in the light of a -large, brisk fire, and kept up their dancing, singing, jumping, and -shouting, until near the break of day. - -“After they had dispersed, and that night of tears, and the bitterest -emotions, and most torturing remembrances of the past, and reflections -of our present had nearly worn away, with bleeding feet, worn in places -almost to the bone, with aching limbs, beneath a thin covering, side -by side, little Mary Ann and myself lay us down upon a sand bed to -meditate upon sleep. A few hours were spent in conversation, conducted -in a low whisper, with occasional moments of partial drowsiness, -haunted with wild, frantic dreams.” - -Though five years separate that time and the present, where is the -heart but throbs sensitive to the dark, prison-like condition of -these two girls. Look at their situation, the scenes around; having -reached a strange tribe by a toilsome, painful ten days’ journey, the -sufferings of which were almost insupportable and life consuming, -having been for nearly the whole night of their introduction to a new -captivity made the subjects of shouting and confusion, heathenish, -indelicate, and indecent, and toward morning hiding themselves under -a scanty covering, surrounded by unknown savages; whispering into -each other’s ears the hopes, fears, and impressions of their new -condition. Coveting sleep, but every touch of its soft hand upon their -moistened eyelids turned to torture and hideousness by scary visions -and dreams; harassed in mind over the uncertainty and doubt haunting -their imaginations, as to the probable purposes of their new possessors -in all their painstaking to secure a transfer of the captives to them. -It is true that less of barbarity had marked the few days of their -dependence upon their new owners, than their Apache hardships; but they -had sadly learned already that under friendly guises their possible -treachery might be wrapping and nursing some foul and murderous design. - -Plunged now into the depths of a wild country, where the traces of a -white foot would be sought in vain for hundreds of miles, and at such -a distance from the nearest route of the hurrying emigrant, as to -preclude almost the traveling of hope to their exile and gloom; it is -no marvel that these few hours allotted to sleep at the latter part -of the night, were disturbed by such questions as these: Why have they -purchased us? What labor or service do they intend subjecting us to? -Have they connived with our former masters to remove us still further -from the habitations of our countrymen, and sought to plunge us so -deep in these mountain defiles, that they may solace themselves with -that insatiate revenge upon our race which will encounter any hardship -rather than allow us the happiness of a return to our native land? No -marvel that they could not drive away such thoughts, though a lacerated -body was praying for balmy sleep, “nature’s sweet restorer.” - -Mary Ann, the youngest, a little girl of eight years, had been -declining in health and strength for some time. She had almost starved -on that long road, kept up principally by a small piece of meat. For -over three hundred miles had she come, climbing rocks, traversing -sun-burned gravel and sand, marking the way by bleeding feet, sighs, -and piteous moanings; well-nigh breaking the heart of her older sister, -whose deepest anguish was the witnessing of these sufferings that she -could not relieve. She was not inclined to complain; nay, she was -given to a patient reserve that would bear her grief alone, sooner -than trouble her loved sister with it. She had from infancy been the -favorite child of the family; the only one of a frail constitution, -quickest to learn, and best to remember; and often, when at home, -and the subject of disease and pain, exhibiting a meekness, judgment, -and fortitude beyond her years. She was tenderly loved by the whole -family; nursed by her fond mother with a delicacy and concern bestowed -on none of the rest; and now bound to the heart of her only sister by -a tie strengthened by mutual sufferings, and that made her every woe -and sigh a dagger to the heart of Olive. No marvel that the latter -should say: “Poor girl, I love her tenderly, ardently; and now to see -her driven forth whole days, with declining health, at a pace kept up -by these able-bodied Indians; to see her climb rugged cliffs, at times -upon her hands and knees, struggling up where others could walk, the -sweat coursing down freely from her pearly-white forehead; to hear her -heave those half-suppressed sighs; to see the steps of those little -bleeding feet totter and falter; to see the big tears standing out of -her eyes, glistening as if in the borrowed light of a purer home; to -see her turn at times and bury her head in some of the tattered furs -wrapped about a part of her person, and weeping alone, and then come to -me, saying: ‘How far, dear Olive, must we yet go?’ To hear her ask, and -ask in vain, for bread, for meat, for water, for something to eat, when -nothing but their laziness denied her request; these were sights and -scenes I pray God to deliver me from in future! O that I could blot out -the impression they have indelibly written upon my mind! - -“‘But we are now here, and must make the best of it,’ was the -interruption made the next morning to memories and thoughts like the -above. We were narrowly watched, and with an eye and jealousy that -seemed to indicate some design beyond and unlike the one that was -avowed to move them to purchase us, and to shut out all knowledge of -the way back to our race. We found the location and scenery of our new -home much pleasanter than the one last occupied. The valley extended -about thirty or forty miles, northeast by southwest, and varying -from two to five miles in width. Through its whole length flowed the -beautiful Colorado, in places a rapid, leaping stream, in others -making its way quietly, noiselessly over a deeper bed. It varied, like -all streams whose sources are in immediate mountains, in depth, at -different seasons of the year. During the melting of the snows that -clothed the mountain-tops to the north, when we came among the Mohaves, -it came roaring and thundering along its rock-bound banks, threatening -the whole valley, and doing some damage. - -“We found the Mohaves accustomed to the tillage of the soil to a -limited extent, and in a peculiar way. And it was a season of great -rejoicing when the Colorado overflowed, as it was only after overflows -that they could rely upon their soil for a crop. In the autumn they -planted the wheat carefully in hills with their fingers, and in the -spring they planted corn, melons, and a few garden vegetables. -They had, however, but a few notions, and these were crude, about -agriculture. They were utterly without skill or art in any useful -calling. When we first arrived among them the wheat sown the previous -fall had come up, and looked green and thrifty, though it did not -appear, nor was it, sufficient to maintain one-fifth of their -population. They spent more time in raising twenty spears of wheat -from one hill, than was necessary to have cultivated one acre, with -the improvements they might and should have learned in the method of -doing it. It was to us, however, an enlivening sight to see even these -scattered parcels of grain growing, clothing sections of their valley. -It was a remembrancer, and reminded us of home, (now no more ours,) and -placed us in a nearness to the customs of a civilized mode of life that -we had not realized before. - -“For a time after coming among them but little was said to us; none -seemed desirous to enter into any intercourse, or inquire even, if it -had been possible for us to understand them, as to our welfare, past -or present. Topeka gave us to know that we were to remain in their -house. Indeed we were merely regarded as strange intruders, with whom -they had no sympathy, and their bearing for a while toward us seemed -to say: ‘You may live here if you can eke out an existence, by bowing -yourselves unmurmuringly to our barbarism and privations.’ - -“In a few days they began to direct us to work in various ways, -such as bringing wood and water, and to perform various errands of -convenience to them. Why they took the course they did I have never -been able to imagine; but it was only by degrees that their exactions -were enforced. We soon learned, however, that our condition was that of -unmitigated slavery, not to the adults merely, but to the children. In -this respect it was very much as among the Apaches. Their whimpering, -idiotic children, of not half a dozen years, very soon learned to drive -us about with all the authority of an Eastern lord. And these filthy -creatures would go in quest of occasions, seemingly to gratify their -love of command; and any want of hurried attention to them was visited -upon us by punishment, either by whipping or the withholding of our -food. Besides, the adults of the tribe enjoyed the sport of seeing us -thus forced into submission to their children. - -“The Colorado had overflown during the winter, and there had been -considerable rain. The Mohaves were in high hopes for a bountiful crop -during this season. What was to them a rich harvest would be considered -in Yankee land, or in the Western states, a poor compensation for so -much time and plodding labor. For two years before they had raised -but little. Had the industry and skill of the least informed of our -agriculturists been applied to this Mohave valley, it might have been -made as productive and fruitful a spot as any I ever saw. But they -were indolent and lazy, so that it would seem impossible for ingenuity -to invent modes by which they might work to a greater disadvantage, or -waste the little of strength they did use. While their lot had cast -them into the midst of superior natural advantages, which ought to have -awakened their pride and ambition to do something for themselves, yet -they were indisposed to every fatiguing toil, unless in the chase or -war.” - -Nothing during the summer of 1852 occurred to throw any light upon that -one question, to these captive girls the all-absorbing one, one which, -like an everywhere present spirit, haunted them day and night, as to -the probabilities of their ever escaping from Indian captivity. It was -not long before their language, of few words, was so far understood -as to make it easy to understand the Mohaves in conversation. Every -day brought to their ears expressions, casually dropped, showing their -spite and hate to the white race. They would question their captives -closely, seeking to draw from them any discontent they might feel in -their present condition. They taunted them, in a less ferocious manner -than the Apaches, but with every evidence of an equal hate, about the -good-for-nothing whites. - -“At times, when some of their friends were visiting in the neighborhood -of our valley, they would call for the captives that they might -see them. One day, while one of the sub-chiefs and his family were -visiting at Espaniola’s house, Mary and I were out a little from the -house singing, and were overheard. This aroused their curiosity, and -we were called, and many questions were put to us as to what we were -singing, where we learned to sing, and if the whites were good singers. -Mary and I, at their request, sang them some of our Sabbath-school -hymns, and some of the short children’s songs we had learned. After -this we were teased very much to sing to them. Several times a small -string of beads was made up among them and presented to us for singing -to them for two or three hours; also pieces of red flannel, (an article -that to them was the most valuable of any they could possess,) of which -after some time we had several pieces. These we managed to attach -together with ravelings, and wore them upon our persons. The beads we -wore about our necks, squaw fashion.” - -Many of them were anxious to learn the language of the whites; among -these one Ccearekae, a young man of some self-conceit and pride. -He asked the elder of the girls, “How do you like living with the -Mohaves?” To which she replied, “I do not like it so well as among the -whites, for we do not have enough to eat.” - -Ccearekae. “We have enough to satisfy us; you Americanos (a term also -by them learned of the Mexicans) work hard, and it does you no good; we -enjoy ourselves.” - -Olive. “Well, we enjoy ourselves well at home, and all our white people -seem happier than any Indian I have seen since.” - -Ccearekae. “Our great fathers worked just as you whites do, and they -had many nice things to wear; but the flood came and swept the old -folks away, and a white son of the family stole all the arts, with the -clothing, etc., and the Mohaves have had none since.” - -Olive. “But if our people had this beautiful valley they would till it, -and raise much grain. You Mohaves don’t like to work, and you say you -do not have enough to eat; then it is because you are lazy.” - -“At this his wrath was aroused, and with angry words and countenance -he left. I frequently told them how grain, and cattle, and fowls would -abound, if such good land was under the control of the whites. This -would sometimes kindle their wrath, and flirts, and taunts, and again -at other times their curiosity. One day several of them were gathered, -and questioning about our former homes, and the white nation, and the -way by which a living was made, etc. I told them of plowing the soil. -They then wanted to see the figure of a plow. I accordingly, with -sticks and marks in the sand, made as good a plow as a girl of fifteen -would be expected, perhaps, to make out of such material; drew the oxen -and hitched them to my plow, and told them how it would break the soil. -This feasted their curiosity a while, but ended in a volley of scorn -and mockery to me and the race of whites, and a general outburst of -indignant taunts about their meanness. - -“They were very anxious to know how breaking up of the soil would make -grain grow; of what use it was; whether women labored in raising grain. -We told them of milking the cows, and how our white people mowed the -grass and fattened cattle, and many other things, to which they gave -the ear of a curiosity plainly beyond what they wanted us to understand -they cared about it. - -“I told them of the abundance that rewards white labor, while they -had so little. They said: ‘Your ancestors were dishonest, and their -children are weak, and that by and by the pride and good living of the -present whites would ruin them. You whites,’ continued they, ‘have -forsaken nature and want to possess the earth, but you will not be -able.’ In thus conversing with them I learned of a superstition they -hold as to the origin of the distinction existing among the red and -white races. - -“It was as follows: They said, pointing to a high mountain at the -northern end of the valley, (the highest in the vicinity,) there was -once a flood in ancient time that covered all the world but that -mountain, and all the present races then were merged in one family, -and this family was saved from the general deluge by getting upon that -mountain. They said that this antediluvian family was very large, and -had great riches, clothing, cattle, horses, and much to eat. They -said that after the water subsided one of the family took all the -cattle and our kind of clothing, and went north, was turned from red to -white, and so there settled. That another part of this family took deer -skins and bark, and from these the Indians came. They held that this -ancient family were all of red complexion until the progenitor of the -whites stole, then he was turned white. They said the Hiccos (dishonest -whites) would lose their cattle yet; that this thieving would turn upon -themselves. They said remains of the old ‘big house,’ in which this -ancient family lived, were up there yet; also pieces of bottles, broken -dishes, and remnants of all the various kinds of articles used by them. - -“We were told by them that this venerated spot had, ever since the -flood, been the abode of spirits; (Hippoweka, the name for spirit;) and -that these spirits were perfectly acquainted with all the doings, and -even the secret motives and character, of each individual of the tribe. -And also that it was a place consecrated to these spirits, and if the -feet of mortals should presume to tread this enchanted spirit-land, -a fire would burst from the mountain and instantly consume them, -except it be those who are selected and appointed by these spirits -to communicate some special message to the tribe. This favored class -were generally the physicians of the tribe. And when a war project -was designed by these master spirits, they signified the bloody -intention by causing the mountains to shoot forth lurid tongues of -fire, visible only to the revelators. All their war plans and the time -of their execution, their superstition taught them, were communicated -by the flame-lit pinnacle to those depositories of the will of the -spirits, and by them, under professed superhuman dictation, the time, -place, object, and method of the war were communicated to the chief. -Yet the power of the chief was absolute, and when his _practical_ -wisdom suggested, these wizards always found a license by a second -consultation to modify the conflict, or change the time and method of -its operation. - -“It was their belief that in the region of this mountain there was -held in perpetual chains the spirit of every ‘Hicco’ that they had -been successful in slaying; and that the souls of all such were there -eternally doomed to torment of the fiercest quenchless fires, and the -Mohave by whose hand the slaughter was perpetrated, would be exalted to -eternal honors and superior privileges therefor. - -“It was with strange emotions, after listening to this superstitious -tale, that our eyes rested upon that old bald peak, and saw within the -embrace of its internal fires, the spirits of many of our own race, -and thought of their being bound by this Mohave legend to miseries so -extreme, and woes so unmitigated, and a revenge so insatiate. - -“But according to their belief we could only expect a like fate by -attempting their rescue, and we did not care enough for the professed -validness of their faith to risk companionship with them, even for the -purpose of attempting to unbind the chains of their tormenting bondage; -and we turned away, most heartily pitying them for their subjection to -so gross a superstition, without any particular concern for those who -had been appointed by its authority to its vengeance. We felt that if -the Hiccos could manage to escape all other hells, they could manage -this one without our sympathy or help. - -“There was little game in the Mohave Valley, and of necessity little -meat was used by this tribe. At some seasons of the year, winter and -spring, they procure fish from a small lake in the vicinity. This was -a beautiful little body of water at freshet seasons, but in the dry -seasons became a loathsome mudhole. In their producing season, the -Mohaves scarcely raised a four months’ supply, yet they might have -raised for the whole year as well. Often I thought, as I saw garden -vegetables and grain plucked ere they were grown, to be devoured by -these lazy ‘live to-day’ savages, I should delight to see the hand of -the skillful agriculturist upon that beautiful valley, with the Mohaves -standing by to witness its capabilities for producing. - -“We spent most of this summer in hard work. We were, for a long time, -roused at the break of day, baskets were swung upon our shoulders, and -we were obliged to go from six to eight miles for the ‘Musquite,’ a -seed or berry growing upon a bush about the size of our Manzanita. In -the first part of the season, this tree bloomed a beautiful flower, -and after a few weeks a large seed-bud could be gathered from it, and -this furnished what is truly to be called their staple article of -subsistence. We spent from twilight to twilight again, for a long time, -in gathering this. And often we found it impossible, from its scarcity -that year, to fill our basket in a day, as we were required; and for -failing to do this we seldom escaped a chastisement. This seed, when -gathered, was hung up in their huts to be thoroughly dried, and to -be used when their vegetables and grain should be exhausted. I could -endure myself, the task daily assigned me, but to see the demands and -exactions made upon little Mary Ann, day after day, by these unfeeling -wretches, as many of them were, when her constitution was already -broken down, and she daily suffering the most excruciating pains from -the effects of barbarity she had already received; this was a more -severe trial than all I had to perform of physical labor. And I often -felt as though it would be a sad relief to see her sink into the grave, -beyond the touch and oppression of the ills and cruel treatment she was -subjected to. But there were times when she would enliven after rest, -which from her utter inability they were obliged to grant. - -“We were accused by our captors several times during this season, of -designing and having plotted already to make our escape. Some of them -would frequently question and annoy us much to discover, if possible, -our feelings and our intentions in reference to our captivity. Though -we persisted in denying any purpose to attempt our escape, many of -them seemed to disbelieve us, and would warn us against any such -undertaking, by assuring us they would follow us, if it were necessary, -quite to the white settlements, and would torment us in the most -painful manner, if we were ever to be recaptured. - -“One day, while we were sitting in the hut of the chief, having just -returned from a root-digging excursion, there came two of their -physicians attended by the chief and several others, to the door of -the hut. The chief’s wife then bade us go out upon the yard, and told -us that the physicians were going to put marks on our faces. It was -with much difficulty that we could understand, however, at first, what -was their design. We soon, however, by the motions accompanying the -commands of the wife of the chief, came to understand that they were -going to tattoo our faces. - -“We had seen them do this to some of their female children, and we -had often conversed with each other about expressing the hope that we -should be spared from receiving their marks upon us. I ventured to -plead with them for a few moments that they would not put those ugly -marks upon our faces. But it was in vain. To all our expostulations -they only replied in substance that they knew why we objected to it; -that we expected to return to the whites, and we would be ashamed of -it then; but that it was their resolution we should never return, and -that as we belonged to them we should wear their ‘Ki-e-chook.’ They -said further, that if we should get away, and they should find us among -other tribes, or if some other tribes should steal us, they would by -this means know us. - -“They then pricked the skin in small regular rows on our chins with a -very sharp stick, until they bled freely. They then dipped these same -sticks in the juice of a certain weed that grew on the banks of the -river, and then in the powder of a blue stone that was to be found in -low water, in some places along the bed of the stream, (the stone they -first burned until it would pulverize easy, and in burning it turned -nearly black,) and pricked this fine powder into these lacerated parts -of the face. - -“The process was somewhat painful, though it pained us more for two -or three days after than at the time of its being done. They told us -this could never be taken from the face, and that they had given us a -different mark from the one worn by their own females, as we saw, but -the same with which they marked all their own captives, and that they -could claim us in whatever tribe they might find us. - -“The autumn was by far the easiest portion of the year for us. To -multiply words would not give any clearer idea to the reader of our -condition. It was one continual routine of drudgery. Toward spring -their grains were exhausted. There was but little rain, not enough -to raise the Colorado near the top of its banks. The Mohaves became -very uneasy about their wheat in the ground. It came up much later -than usual, and looked sickly and grew tardily after it was out of -the ground. It gave a poor, wretched promise at the best for the next -year. Ere it was fairly up there were not provisions or articles of any -kind to eat in the village any one night to keep its population two -days. We found that the people numbered really over fifteen hundred. -We were now driven forth every morning by the first break of day, cold -and sometimes damp, with rough, bleak winds, to glean the old, dry -musquite seed that chanced to have escaped the fatiguing search of the -summer and autumn months. From this on to the time of gathering the -scanty harvest of that year, we were barely able to keep soul and body -together. And the return for all our vigorous labor was a little dry -seed in small quantities. And all this was put forth under the most -sickening apprehensions of a worse privation awaiting us the next year. -This harvest was next to nothing. No rain had fallen during the spring -to do much good. - -“Above what was necessary for seeding again, there was not one month’s -supply when harvest was over. We had gathered less during the summer of -‘musquite,’ and nothing but starvation could be expected. This seemed -to throw the sadness of despair upon our condition, and to blot all our -faint but fond hopes of reaching our native land. We knew, or thought -we knew, that in case of an extremity our portion must be meted out -after these voracious, unfeeling idlers had supplied themselves. We -had already seen that a calamity or adversity had the effect to make -these savages more savage and implacable. I felt more keenly for Mary -Ann than myself. She often said (for we were already denied the larger -half necessary to satisfy our appetites) that she ‘could not live long -without something more to eat.’ She would speak of the plenty that she -had at home, and that might now be there, and sometimes would rather -chide me for making no attempts to escape. ‘O, if I could only get one -dish of bread and milk,’ she would frequently say, ‘I could enjoy it -so well!’ They ground their seed between stones, and with water made a -mush, and we spent many mournful hours of conversation over our gloomy -state as we saw the supply of this tasteless, nauseating ‘_musquite -mush_’ failing, and that the season of our almost sole dependence upon -it was yet but begun. - -“It was not unfrequent that a death occurred among them by the neglect -and laziness so characteristic of the Indian. One day I was out -gathering chottatoe, when I was suddenly surprised and frightened by -running upon one of the victims of this stupid, barbarous inhumanity. -He was a tall, bony Indian of about thirty years. His eye was rather -sunken, his visage marred, as if he had passed through extreme -hardships. He was lying upon the ground, moaning and rolling from side -to side in agony the most acute and intense. I looked upon him, and my -heart was moved with pity. Little Mary said, ‘I will go up and find out -what ails him.’ On inquiry we soon found that he had been for some time -ill, but not so as to become utterly helpless. And not until one of -their number is entirely disabled, do they seem to manifest any feeling -or concern for him. The physician was called, and soon decided that he -was not in the least diseased. He told Mary that nothing ailed him save -the want of food; said that he had been unable for some time to procure -his food; that his friends devoured any that was brought into camp -without dividing it with him; that he had been gradually running down, -and now he wanted to die. O there was such dejection, such a forlorn, -despairing look written upon his countenance as made an impression upon -my mind which is yet vivid and mournful. - -“He soon died, and then his father and all his relatives commenced -a hideous, barbarous howling and jumping, indicative of the most -poignant grief. Whether their sorrowing was a matter of conscience or -bereavement, none could tell, but it would improve my opinion of them -to believe it originated with the former. - -“Such scenes were not far between, and yet these results of their -laziness and want of enterprise and humanity, when thickening upon -them, had no effect to beget a different policy or elevate them to that -life of happiness, thrift, and love which would have prolonged their -years, and removed the dismal, gloomy aspect of every-day life among -them. - -“We were now put upon a stinted allowance, and the restrictions upon -us were next to the taking the life of Mary Ann. During the second -autumn, and at the time spoken of above, the chief’s wife gave us some -seed-grain, corn and wheat, showed us about thirty feet square of -ground marked off upon which we might plant it and raise something for -ourselves. We planted our wheat, and carefully concealed the handful -of corn and melon-seeds to plant in the spring. This we enjoyed very -much. It brought to our minds the extended grain-fields that waved -about our cottage in Illinois, of the beautiful spring when winter’s -ice and chill had departed before the breath of a warmer season, of the -May-mornings, when we had gone forth to the plow-fields and followed -barefooted in the new-turned furrow, and of the many long days of -grain-growing and ripening in which we had watched the daily change in -the fields of wheat and oats. - -“These hours of plying our fingers (not sewing) in the ground flew -quickly by, but not without their tears and forebodings that ere we -could gather the results, famine might lay our bodies in the dust. -Indeed we could see no means by which we could possibly maintain -ourselves to harvest again. Winter, a season of sterility and frozen -nights, was fast approaching, and to add to my desolateness, I plainly -saw that grief, or want of food, or both, were slowly, and inch by -inch, enfeebling and wasting away Mary Ann. - -“The Indians said that about sixty miles away there was a ‘Taneta’ -(tree) that bore a berry called ‘Oth-to-toa,’ upon which they had -subsisted for some time several years before, but it could be reached -only by a mountainous and wretched way of sixty miles. Soon a large -party made preparations and set out in quest of this ‘life-preserver.’ -Many of those accustomed to bear burdens were not able to go. Mary Ann -started, but soon gave out and returned. A few Indians accompanied us, -but it was a disgrace for them to bear burdens; this was befitting -only to squaws and captives. I was commanded to pick up my basket and -go with them, and it was only with much pleading I could get them to -spare my sister the undertaking when she gave out. I had borne that -‘Chiechuck’ empty and full over many hundred miles, but never over so -rugged a way, nor when it seemed so heavy as now. - -“We reached the place on the third day, and found the taneta to be a -bush, and very much resembling the musquite, only with a much larger -leaf. It grew to a height of from five to thirty feet. The berry was -much more pleasant to the taste than the musquite; the juice of it, -when extracted and mixed with water, was very much like the orange. The -tediousness and perils of this trip were very much enlivened with the -hope of getting something with which to nourish and prolong the life of -Mary. She was very much depressed, and appeared quite ill when I left -her. - -“After wandering about for two days with but little gathered, six of -us started in quest of some place where the oth-to-toa might be more -abundant. We traveled over twenty miles away from our temporary camp. -We found tanetas in abundance, and loaded with the berry. We had -reached a field of them we judged never found before. - -“Our baskets being filled, we hastened to join the camp party before -they should start for the village. We soon lost our way, the night -being dark, and wandered without water the whole night, and were -nearly all sick from eating our oth-to-toa berry. Toward day, nearly -exhausted, and three of our number very sick, we were compelled to -halt. We watched over and nursed the sick, sweating them with the -medical leaf always kept with us, and about the only medicine used by -the Mohaves. But our efforts were vain, for before noon the three had -breathed their last. A fire was kindled and their bodies were burned; -and for several hours I expected to be laid upon one of those funeral -pyres in that deep, dark, and almost trackless wilderness. - -“I think I suffered more during those two or three hours in mind and -body than at any other period of my captivity in the same time. We -feared to stay only as long as was necessary, for our energies were -well-nigh exhausted. We started back, and I then saw an Indian carry a -basket. One of them took the baskets of the dead, and kept up with us. -The rest of our party went howling through the woods in the most dismal -manner. The next day we found the camp, and found we had been nearly -around it. We were soon on our way, and by traveling all one night we -were at the village. - -“It would be impossible to put upon paper any true idea of my feelings -and sufferings during this trip, on account of Mary. Had it not been -for her I could have consented to have laid down and died with the -three we buried. I did not then expect to get back. I feared she would -not live, and I found on reaching the village that she had materially -failed, and had been furnished with scarcely food enough to keep her -alive. I sought by every possible care to recruit her, and for a short -time she revived. The berry we had gathered, while it would add to -one’s flesh, and give an appearance of healthiness, (if the stomach -could bear it,) had but little strengthening properties in it. - -“I traveled whole days together in search of the eggs of blackbirds -for Mary Ann. These eggs at seasons were plenty, but not then. These -she relished very much. I cherished for a short time the hope that she -might, by care and nursing, be kept up until spring, when we could get -fish. The little store we had brought in was soon greedily devoured, -and with the utmost difficulty could we get a morsel. The ground was -searched for miles, and every root that could nourish human life -was gathered. The Indians became reckless and quarrelsome, and with -unpardonable selfishness each would struggle for his own life in utter -disregard of his fellows. Mary Ann failed fast. She and I were whole -days at a time without anything to eat; when by some chance, or the -kindness of the chief’s daughter, we would get a morsel to satisfy our -cravings. Often would Mary say to me, ‘I am well enough, but I want -something to eat; then I should be well.’ I could not leave her over -night. Roots there were none I could reach by day and return; and when -brought in, our lazy lords would take them for their own children. -Several children had died, and more were in a dying state. Each death -that occurred was the occasion of a night or day of frantic howling -and crocodile mourning. Mary was weak and growing weaker, and I gave -up in despair. I sat by her side for a few days, most of the time only -begging of the passers-by to give me something to keep Mary alive. -Sometimes I succeeded. Had it not been for the wife and daughter of the -chief, we could have obtained nothing. They seemed really to _feel_ -for us, and I have no doubt would have done more if in their power. My -sister would not complain, but beg for something to eat. - -“She would often think and speak in the most affectionate manner of -‘dear pa and ma,’ and with confidence she would say, ‘they suffered an -awful death, but they are now safe and happy in a better and brighter -land, though I am left to starve among savages.’ She seemed now to -regard life no longer as worth preserving, and she kept constantly -repeating expressions of longing to die and be removed from a gloomy -captivity to a world where no tear of sorrow dims the eye of innocence -and beauty. She called me to her side one day and said: ‘Olive, I -shall die soon; you will live and get away. Father and mother have got -through with sufferings, and are now at rest; I shall soon be with them -and those dear brothers and sisters.’ She then asked me to sing, and -she joined her sweet, clear voice, without faltering, with me, and we -tried to sing the evening hymn we had been taught at the family altar: - - ‘The day is past and gone, - The evening shades appear,’ etc. - -“My grief was too great. The struggling emotions of my mind I tried -to keep from her, but could not. She said: ‘Don’t grieve for me; I -have been a care to you all the while. I don’t like to leave you here -all alone, but God is with you, and our heavenly Father will keep and -comfort those who trust in him. O, I am so glad that we were taught -to love and serve the Saviour.’ She then asked me to sing the hymn -commencing: - - ‘How tedious and tasteless the hours - When Jesus no longer I see.’ - -“I tried to sing, but could not get beyond the first line. But it did -appear that visions of a bright world were hers, as with a clear, -unfaltering strain she sang the entire hymn. She gradually sank away -without much pain, and all the time happy. She had not spent a day in -our captivity without asking God to pardon, to bless, and to save. I -was faint, and unable to stand upon my feet long at a time. My cravings -for food were almost uncontrollable; and at the same time, among -unfeeling savages, to watch her gradual but sure approach to the vale -of death, from want of food that their laziness alone prevented us -having in abundance, this was a time and scene upon which I can only -gaze with horror, and the very remembrance of which I would blot out if -I could. - -“She lingered thus for several days. She suffered much, mostly from -hunger. Often did I hear, as I sat near her weeping, some Indian coming -near break out in a rage, because I was permitted to spend my time thus -with her; that they had better kill Mary, then I could go, as I ought -to be made to go, and dig roots and procure food for the rest of them. - -“O what moments, what hours were these! Every object in all the fields -of sight seemed to wear a horrid gloom. - -“One day, during her singing, quite a crowd gathered about her and -seemed much surprised. Some of them would stand for whole hours and -gaze upon her countenance as if enchained by a strange sight, and -this while some of their own kindred were dying in other parts of the -village. Among these was the wife of the chief, ‘Aespaneo.’ I ought -here to say that neither that woman nor her daughter ever gave us any -unkind treatment. She came up one day, hearing Mary sing, and bent -for some time silently over her. She looked in her face, felt of her, -and suddenly broke out in a most piteous lamentation. She wept, and -wept from the heart and aloud. I never saw a parent seem to feel more -keenly over a dying child. She sobbed, she moaned, she howled. And thus -bending over and weeping she stood the whole night. The next morning, -as I sat near my sister, shedding my tears in my hands, she called me -to her side and said: ‘I am willing to die. O, I shall be so much -better off there!’ and her strength failed. She tried to sing, but was -too weak. - -[Illustration: DEATH OF MARY ANN AT THE INDIAN CAMP.] - -“A number of the tribe, men, women, and children, were about her, the -chief’s wife watching her every moment. She died in a few moments after -her dying words quoted above. - -“She sank to the sleep of death as quietly as sinks the innocent infant -to sleep in its mother’s arms. - -“When I saw that she was dead, I could but give myself up to -loneliness, to wailing and despair. ‘The last of our family dead, and -all of them by tortures inflicted by Indian savages,’ I exclaimed to -myself. I went to her and tried to find remaining life, but no pulse, -no breath was there. I could but adore the mercy that had so wisely -thrown a vail of concealment over these three years of affliction. Had -their scenes been mapped out to be read beforehand, and to be received -step by step, as they were really meted out to us, no heart could have -sustained them. - -“I wished and most earnestly desired that I might at once lie down in -the same cold, icy embrace that I saw fast stiffening the delicate -limbs of that dear sister. - -“I reasoned at times, that die I must and soon, and that I had the -right to end my sufferings at once, and prevent these savages by cold, -cruel neglect, murdering me by the slow tortures of a starvation that -had already its score of victims in our village. The only heart that -shared my woes was now still, the only heart (as I then supposed) -that survived the massacre of seven of our family group was now cold -in death, and why should I remain to feel the gnawings of hunger and -pain a few days, and then, without any to care for me, unattended and -uncared for, lay down and die. At times I resolved to take a morsel of -food by stealth, (if it could be found,) and make a desperate attempt -to escape. - -“There were two, however, who seemed not wholly insensible to my -condition, these were the wife and daughter of the chief. They -manifested a sympathy that had not gathered about me since the first -closing in of the night of my captivity upon me. The Indians, at the -direction of the chief, began to make preparations to burn the body -of my sister. This, it seemed, I could not endure. I sought a place -to weep and pray, and I then tasted the blessedness of realizing that -there is One upon whom the heart’s heaviest load can be placed, and He -never disappointed me. My dark, suicidal thoughts fled, and I became -resigned to my lot. Standing by the corpse, with my eyes fastened on -that angel-countenance of Mary Ann, the wife of the chief came to me -and gave me to understand that she had by much entreaty, obtained the -permission of her lord to give me the privilege of disposing of the -dead body as I should choose. This was a great consolation, and I -thanked her most earnestly. It lifted a burden from my mind that caused -me to weep tears of gratitude, and also to note the finger of that -Providence to whom I had fully committed myself, and whom I plainly saw -strewing my way with tokens of his kind regards toward me. The chief -gave me two blankets, and in these they wrapped the corpse. Orders -were then given to two Indians to follow my directions in disposing of -the body. I selected a spot in that little garden ground, where I had -planted and wept with my dear sister. In this they dug a grave about -five feet deep, and into it they gently lowered the remains of my last, -my only sister, and closed her last resting-place with the sand. The -reader may imagine my feelings, as I stood by that grave. The whole -painful past seemed to rush across my mind, as I lingered there. It was -the first and only grave in all that valley, and that inclosing my own -sister. Around me was a large company of half-dressed, fierce-looking -savages, some serious, some mourning, some laughing over this novel -method of disposing of the dead; others in breathless silence watched -the movements of that dark hour, with a look that seemed to say, ‘This -is the way white folks do,’ and exhibiting no feeling or care beyond -that. I longed to plant a rose upon her grave, but the Mohaves knew no -beauty, and read no lesson in flowers, and so this mournful pleasure -was denied me. - -“When the excitement of that hour passed, with it seemed to pass my -energy and ambition. I was faint and weak, drowsy and languid. I found -but little strength from the scant rations dealt out to me. I was -rapidly drooping, and becoming more and more anxious to shut my eyes to -all about me, and sink to a sweet, untroubled sleep beneath that green -carpeted valley. This was the only time in which, without any reserve, -I really longed to die, and cease at once to breathe and suffer. That -same woman, the wife of the chief, came again to the solace and relief -of my destitution and woe. I was now able to walk but little, and -had resigned all care and anxiety, and concluded to wait until those -burning sensations caused by want of nourishment should consume the -last thread of my life, and shut my eyes and senses in the darkness -that now hid them from my sister. - -“Just at this time this kind woman came to me with some corn gruel in a -hollow stone. I marveled to know how she had obtained it. The handful -of seed corn that my sister and I had hid in the ground, between two -stones, did not come to my mind. But this woman, this Indian woman, had -uncovered a part of what she had deposited against spring planting, -had ground it to a coarse meal, and of it prepared this gruel for me. -I took it, and soon she brought me more. I began to revive. I felt -a new life and strength given me by this morsel, and was cheered by -the unlooked-for exhibition of sympathy that attended it. She had the -discretion to deny the unnatural cravings that had been kindled by the -small quantity she brought first, and dealt a little at a time, until -within three days I gained a vigor and cheerfulness I had not felt for -weeks. She bestowed this kindness in a sly and unobserved manner, and -enjoined secrecy upon me, for a reason which the reader can judge. She -had done it when some of her own kin were in a starving condition. -It waked up a hope within my bosom that reached beyond the immediate -kindness. I could not account for it but by looking to that Power in -whose hands are the hearts of the savage as well as the civilized man. -I gathered a prospect from these unexpected and kindly interpositions, -of an ultimate escape from my bondage. It was the hand of God, and -I would do violence to the emotions I then felt and still feel, -violence to the strong determination I then made to acknowledge all -his benefits, if I should neglect this opportunity to give a public, -grateful record of my sense of his goodness. - -“The woman had buried that corn to keep it from the lazy crowd about -her, who would have devoured it in a moment, and in utter recklessness -of next year’s reliance. She did it when deaths by starvation and -sickness were occurring every day throughout the settlement. Had it not -been for her, I must have perished. From this circumstance I learned -to chide my hasty judgment against ALL the Indian race, and also, that -kindness is not always a stranger to the untutored and untamed bosom. I -saw in this that their savageness is as much a fruit of their ignorance -as of any want of a susceptibility to feel the throbbings of true -humanity, if they could be properly appealed to. - -“By my own exertions I was able now to procure a little upon which to -nourish my half-starved stomach. By using about half of my seed corn, -and getting an occasional small dose of bitter, fermented oth-to-toa -soup, I managed to drag my life along to March, 1854. During this -month and April I procured a few small roots, at a long distance from -the village; also some fish from the lake. I took particular pains to -guard the little wheat garden that we had planted the autumn before, -and I also planted a few kernels of corn and some melon seeds. Day -after day I watched this little ‘mutautea,’ lest the birds might bring -upon me another winter like that now passed. In my absence Aespaneo -would watch it for me. As the fruit of my care and vigilant watching, I -gathered about one half bushel of corn, and about the same quantity of -wheat. My melons were destroyed. - -“During the growing of this crop, I subsisted principally upon a small -root,[1] about the size of a hazel-nut, which I procured by traveling -long distances, with fish. Sometimes, after a long and fatiguing -search, I would procure a handful of these roots, and, on bringing them -to camp, was compelled to divide them with some stout, lazy monsters, -who had been sunning themselves all day by the river. - -“I also came near losing my corn by the blackbirds. Driven by the -same hunger, seemingly, that was preying upon the human tribe, they -would fairly darken the air, and it was difficult to keep them off, -especially as I was compelled to be absent to get food for immediate -use. But they were not the only robbers I had to contend against. -There were some who, like our white loafers, had a great horror -of honest labor, and they would shun even a little toil, with a -conscientious abhorrence, at any hazard. They watched my little -corn-patch with hungry and thieving eyes, and, but for the chief, -would have eaten the corn green and in the ear. As harvest drew near -I watched, from before daylight until dark again, to keep off these -red vultures and the blackbirds from a spot of ground as large as an -ordinary dwelling-house. I had to do my accustomed share of musquite -gathering, also, in June and July. This we gathered in abundance. The -Colorado overflowed this winter and spring, and the wheat and corn -produced well, so that in autumn the tribe was better provided with -food than it had been for several years. - -“The social habits of these Indians, and the traits of character on -which they are founded, and to which they give expression, may be -illustrated by a single instance as well as a thousand. The portion -of the valley over which the population extends, is about forty miles -long. Their convivial seasons were occasions of large gatherings, -tumultuous rejoicings, and (so far as their limited productions -would allow) of excess in feasting. The year 1854 was one of unusual -bounty and thrift. They planted more than usual; and by labor and the -overflow of the river, the seed deposited brought forth an unparalleled -increase. During the autumn of that year, the residents of the north -part of the valley set apart a day for feasting and merry-making. -Notice was given about four weeks beforehand; great preparations were -made, and a large number invited. Their supply for the appetite on -that day consisted of wheat, corn, pumpkins, beans, etc. These were -boiled, and portions of them mixed with ground seed, such as serececa, -(seed of a weed,) moeroco, (of pumpkins.) On the day of the feast the -Indians masked themselves, some with bark, some with paint, some with -skins. On the day previous to the feast, the Indians of our part of the -valley, who had been favored with an invitation, were gathered at the -house of the chief, preparatory to taking the trip in company to the -place of the feast. Some daubed their faces and hair with mud, others -with paint, so as to give to each an appearance totally different from -his or her natural state. I was told that I could go along with the -rest. This to me was no privilege, as I knew too well what cruelty and -violence they were capable of when excited, as on their days of public -gathering they were liable to be. However, I was safer there than with -those whom they left behind. - -“The Indians went slowly, sometimes in regular, and sometimes in -irregular march, yelling, howling, singing, and gesticulating, until -toward night they were wrought up to a perfect phrenzy. They halted -about one mile from the “north settlement,” and after building a fire, -commenced their war-dance, which they kept up until about midnight. On -this occasion I witnessed some of the most shameful indecencies, on the -part of both male and female, that came to my eye for the five years of -my stay among Indians. - -“The next morning the Indians who had prepared the feast (some of -whom had joined in the dance of the previous evening) came with their -squaws, each bearing upon their heads a Coopoesech, containing a cake, -or a stone dish filled with soup, or boiled vegetables. These cakes -were made of wheat, ground, and mixed with boiled pumpkins. This dough -was rolled out sometimes to two feet in diameter; then placed in hot -sand, a leaf and a layer of sand laid over the loaf, and a fire built -over the whole, until it was baked through. After depositing these -dishes, filled with their prepared dainties, upon a slight mound near -by, the whole tribe then joined in a war-dance, which lasted nearly -twelve hours. After this the dishes and their contents were taken -by our party and borne back to our homes, when and where feasting -and dancing again commenced, and continued until their supplies were -exhausted, and they from sheer weariness were glad to fly to the -embrace of sleep. It would be a ‘shame even to speak’ of all the -violence and indecency into which they plunged on these occasions. -Suffice it to say that no modesty, no sense of shame, no delicacy, that -throw so many wholesome hedges and limitations about the respective -sexes on occasions of conviviality where civilization elevates and -refines, were there to interfere with scenes the remembrance of which -creates a doubt whether these degraded bipeds belong to the human or -brute race. - -“Thus ended _one_ of the many days of such performances that I -witnessed; and I found it difficult to decide whether most of barbarity -appeared in these, or at those seasons of wild excitement occasioned by -the rousing of their revengeful and brutal passions. - -“Of all seasons during my captivity, these of concourse and excitement -most disgusted me with the untamed Indian. When I remember what my eyes -have witnessed, I am led to wonder and adore at my preservation for -a single year, or that my life was not brutalized, a victim to their -inhumanity. - -“I felt cheerful again, only when that loneliness and desolateness -which had haunted me since Mary’s death, would sadden and depress my -spirits. The same woman that had saved my life, and furnished me with -ground and seed to raise corn and wheat, and watched it for me for -many days, now procured from the chief a place where I might store -it, with the promise from him that every kernel should go for my own -maintenance.” - -It is not to go again over the melancholy events that have been -rehearsed in the last chapter, that we ask the reader to tarry for a -moment ere his eye begins to trace the remaining scenes of Olive’s -captivity, which furnish the next chapter, and in which we see her -under the light of a flickering, unsteady hope of a termination of her -captivity either by rescue or death. - -But when in haste this chapter was penned for the first edition, it was -then, and has since been felt by the writer, that there was an interest -hanging about the events of the same, especially upon the closing days -and hours of little Mary’s brief life, that properly called, according -to the intent of this narrative, for a longer stay. A penning of mere -facts does not set forth, or glance at _all_ that clusters about that -pale, dying child as she lies in the door of the tent, the object of -the enchained curious attention of the savages, by whose cold neglect -the flower of her sweet life was thus nipped in the bud. And we feel -confident of sharing, to some extent, the feelings of the sensitive -and intelligent reader, when we state that the two years’ suffering, -by the pressure of which her life was arrested, and the circumstances -surrounding those dying moments, make up a record, than which seldom -has there been one that appeals to the tender sensibilities of our -being more directly, or to our serious consideration more profitably. - -Look at these two girls in the light of the first camp-fire that glowed -upon the faces of themselves and their captors, the first dreary -evening of their captivity. By one hour’s cruel deeds and murder -they had suddenly been bereft of parents, brothers, and sisters, and -consigned to the complete control of a fiendish set of men, of the -cruelty of whose tender mercies they had already received the first and -unerring chapter. Look at them toiling day and night, from this on for -several periods of twenty-four hours, up rugged ascents, bruised and -whipped by the ruggedness of their way and the mercilessness of their -lords. Their strength failing; the distance between them and the home -and way of the white man increasing; the dreariness and solitude of the -region enbosoming them thickening; and each step brooded over by the -horrors left behind, and the worse horrors that sat upon the brightest -future that at the happiest rovings of fancy could be possibly -anticipated. - -In imagination we lean out our souls to listen to the sobs and -sighs that went up from those hearts--hearts bleeding from wounds -and pains tenfold more poignant than those that lacerated and wrung -their quivering flesh. We look upon them, as with their captors they -encircle the wild light of the successive camp-fires, kindled for long -distant halts, upon their way to the yet unseen and dreaded home of the -“inhabitants of rocks and tents.” We look upon them as they are ushered -into their new home, greeted with the most inhuman and terror-kindling -reception given them by this unfeeling horde of land-sharks; thus to -look, imagine, and ponder, we find enough, especially when the _age_ -and _circumstances_ of these captive girls are considered, to lash our -thoughts with indignation toward their oppressors, and kindle our minds -with more than we can express with the word _sympathy_ for these their -innocent victims. - -In little less than one year, and into that year is crowded all of toil -and suffering that we can credit as possible for them to survive, and -then they are sold and again _en route_ for another new and strange -home, in a wild as distant from their Apache home as that from the hill -where, but a year before, in their warm flowing blood, their moaning, -mangled kindred had been left. - -Scarcely had they reached the Mohave Valley ere the elder sister saw -with pain, the sad and already apparently irremovable effects of past -hardships upon the constitution of the younger. What tenderness, what -caution, what vigilant watching, what anxious, unrelieved solicitude -mark the conduct of that noble heart toward her declining and only -sister? Indeed, what interest prompted her to do all in her power to -preserve her life? Not only her only sister, but the only one (to her -then) that remained of the family from whom they had been ruthlessly -torn. And should her lamp of life cease, thereby would be extinguished -the last earthly solace and cordial for the dark prison life that -inclosed her, and that threw its walls of gloom and adamant between -her and the abodes and sunshine of civilized life. Yet death had -marked that little cherub girl for an early victim. Slowly, and yet -uncomplainingly, does her feeble frame and strength yield to the heavy -hand of woe and want that met her, in all the ghastliness and horror -of unchangeable doom, at every turn and hour of her weary days. What -mystery hangs upon events and persons! How impenetrable the permissions -of Providence! How impalpable and evasive of all our wisdom _that -secret power_, by which cherished plans and purposes are often shaped -to conclusions and terminations so wide of the bright design that -lighted them on to happy accomplishment in the mind of the mortal -proposer! - -Mary Ann had been the fondly cherished, and tenderly nursed idol of -that domestic group. Early had she exhibited a precocity in intellect, -and in moral sensitiveness and attainment, that had made her the -subject of a peculiar parental affection, and the ever cheerful -radiating center of light, and love, and happiness to the remainder -of the juvenile family. But she ever possessed a strength of body and -vigor of health far inferior, and disproportioned to her mental and -moral progress. She was a correct reader at four years. She was kept -almost constantly at school, both from her choice, and the promise she -gave to delighted parents of a future appreciation and good improvement -of these advantages. With the early exhibition of an earnest thirst for -knowledge that she gave, there was also a strict regard for truth, and -a hearty, happy obedience to the law of God and the authority of her -parents. At five years and a half she had read her Bible through. She -was a constant attendant upon Sabbath school, into all the exercises of -which she entered with delight; and to her rapid improvement and profit -in the subjects with which she there became intimate and identified, -may be attributed the moral superiority she displayed during her -captivity. - -She had a clear, sweet voice, and the children now live in this state -who have witnessed the earnestness and rapture with which she joined in -singing the hymns allotted to Sabbath-school hours. O how little of the -sad after-part of Mary’s life entered into the minds of those parents -as thus they directed the childish, tempted steps of their little -daughter into the paths of religious pursuits and obedience. - -Who shall say that the facts in her childish experience and years -herein glanced at, had not essentially to do with the spirit and -preparedness that she brought to the encountering and enduring of the -terrible fate that closed her eyes among savages at eight years of age. - -As we look at her fading, withering, and wasting at the touch of cold -cruelty, the object of anxious watchings and frequent and severe -painstaking on the part of her elder sister, who spared no labor or -fatigue to glean the saving morsel to prolong her sinking life, we can -but adore that never-sleeping Goodness that had strewn her way to this -dark scene with so many preparing influences and counsels. - -Young as she was, she with her sister were first to voice those hymns -of praise to the one God, in which the grateful offerings of Christian -hearts go up to him, in the ear of an untutored and demoralized tribe -of savages. Hers was the first Christian death they ever witnessed, -perhaps the last; and upon her, as with composure and cheerfulness -(not the sullen submission of which they boast) she came down to the -vale of death, they gazed with every indication of an interest and -curiosity that showed the workings of something more than the ordinary -solemnities that had gathered them about the paling cheek and quivering -lip of members of their own tribe. - -Precious girl! sweet flower! nipped in the bud by untimely and -rude blasts. Yet the fragrance of the ripe virtues that budded and -blossomed upon so tender and frail a stalk shall not die. If ever -the bright throng that flame near the throne would delight to cease -their song, descend and poise on steady wing to wait the last heaving -of a suffering mortal’s bosom, that at the parting breath they might -encircle the fluttering spirit and bear it to the bosom of God, it -was when thou didst, upon the breath of sacred song, joined in by -thy living sister, yield thy spirit to Him who kindly cut short thy -sufferings that he might begin thy bliss. - -A Sabbath-school scholar, dying in an Indian camp, three hundred miles -from even the nearest trail of the white man, buoyed and gladdened by -bright visions of beatitudes that make her oblivious of present pain, -and long to enter upon the future estate to which a correct and earnest -instruction had been pointing! - -Who can say but that there lives the little Mohave boy or girl, or the -youth who will yet live to rehearse in the ear of a listening American -auditory, and in a rough, uncouth jargon, the wondrous impression of -that hour upon his mind. - -Already we see the arms of civilization embracing a small remnant of -that waning tribe, and among its revived records, though unwritten, -we find the death of the American captive in the door of the chief’s -“_Pasiado_.” When they gathered about her at that dying moment, many -were the curious questions with which some of them sought to ascertain -the secret of her (to them) strange appearance. The sacred hymns -learned in Sabbath school and at a domestic shrine, and upon which that -little spirit now breathed its devout emotions in the ear of God, were -inquired after. They asked her where she expected to go? She told them -that she was going to a better place than the mound to which they sent -the spirits of their dead. And many questions did they ask her and -her older sister as to the extent of the knowledge they had of such a -bright world, if one there was. And though replies to many of their -queries before had been met by mockings and ridicule, yet now not one -gazed, or listened, or questioned, to manifest any disposition to taunt -or accuse at the hour of that strange dying. - -The wife of the chief plied her questions with earnestness, and with -an air of sincerity, and the exhibition of the most intense mental -agitation, showing that she was not wholly incredulous of the new and -strange replies she received. - - -TALE OF THE TWO CAPTIVES. - -One night a large company were assembled at the hut of one of the -sub-chiefs. It was said that this Indian, Adpadarama, was the -illegitimate son of the present chief, and there was considerable -dispute between him and two of the chief’s legitimate sons as to their -respective rights to the chiefship on the death of the father. - -At the gathering referred to the following anecdote was related, which -is here given to show the strength of their superstitions, and the -unmitigated cruelties which are sometimes perpetrated by them under -the sanction of these barbaric beliefs. This sub-chief said that one -day, when he, in company with several of his relatives and two Cochopa -captives, was away in the mountains on a hunting-tour, his (reputed) -father fell violently sick. He grew worse for several days. One day -he was thought to be dying. “When I was convinced that he could not -live,” said Adpadarama, or to that effect, “I resolved to kill one of -the captives, and then wait until my father should die, when I would -kill the other. So I took a stone tomahawk and went out to the little -fire near the camping-tent, where they were eating some berries they -had just picked, and I told one of them to step out, for I was a going -to kill her to see if it would not save my father. Then she cried,” -(and at this he showed by signs, and frowns, and all manner of gestures -how delighted he was at her misery,) “and begged for her life. But I -went up to her and struck her twice with this tomahawk, when she fell -dead upon the ground. I then told the other that I should kill her so -soon as my father died; that I should burn them both with his body, and -then they would go to be his slaves up in yonder eliercha,” (pointing -to their heavenly hill.) “Well, about two days after my father died, -and I was mad to think that the killing of the captive had not saved -him. So I went straight and killed the other, but I killed her by -burning, so as to be sure that the flames should take her to my father -to serve him forever.” - -Such are facts that dimly hint at the vague and atrocious theories that -crowd their brain and hold iron sway over their minds. And in all the -abominations and indecencies authorized by their superstitions, they -are not only prompt and faithful, but the more degrading and barbarous -the rite, the more does their zeal and enthusiasm kindle at its -performance. - -Adpadarama said he burned, as soon as he returned, his father’s house, -and all his dishes, and utensils, and bark-garments, so that his father -might have them to contribute to his happiness where he had gone. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[1] I have several of these ground-nuts now in my possession. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - The Mohaves--Their Sports--An Expedition of Hostility against - the Cochopas--Its Design--Tradition concerning it--The - Preparation--Their Custom of Sacrificing a Prisoner on the Death - in War of One of their own Number--The Anxiety of Olive--They - depart--Their Return--The Fruit of the Expedition--The Five Cochopa - Captives--Nowereha--Her Attempt to Escape--Her Recapture and - Horrid Death--The Physicians--Evil Spirits--The Mohave Mode of - Doctoring--The Yumas--“Francisco,” the Yuma Indian--Hopes of Escape. - - -“In the spring of 1854, the project of some exciting hostile expedition -against a distant tribe was agitated among the Mohaves. It was some -time before any but the ‘Council’ knew of the definite purpose of -the expedition. But when their plans had been laid, and all their -intentions circulated among the tribe, it proved to be one of war upon -the Cochopas, a large tribe seven hundred miles away. The Cochopas were -a tribe with whom the Mohaves had never been at peace. According to -tradition, this hostility had been kept actively flaming through all -past generations. And the Mohaves were relying with equal certainty -upon the truth of traditional prophecy that they were ultimately to -subject the Cochopas to their sway, or obliterate them. The Mohaves -had as yet been successful in every engagement. They were confident -of success, and this was all the glory their ambition was capable of -grasping. As for any intrinsic merit in the matter of the contest, none -was known to exist. About sixty warriors made preparations for a long -time to undertake the expedition. - -“Bows and arrows and war-clubs were prepared in abundance, also -stone-knives. The war-club was made of a very solid wood that grew upon -the mountain. It was of a tree that they called ‘Cooachee,’ very hard -and heavy, and lost but very little of its weight in the seasoning -process. - -“Great preparations were also made by the squaws, though with much -reluctance, as most of them were opposed to the expedition, as they had -been also in the past to kindred ones. Those of them who had husbands -and brothers enlisted in the expedition, tried every expedient in -their power to dissuade them from it. They accused them of folly and a -mere lust of war, and prayed them not thus to expose their own lives -and the lives of their dependent ones. It was reported that since -the last attack upon them, the Cochopees had strengthened themselves -with numerous and powerful allies, by uniting several surrounding -tribes with themselves for purposes of war. This was pleaded by these -interested women against the present purpose, as they feared that this -distant tribe would be now able to avenge past injury, besides beating -the Mohaves in this projected engagement. But go they would, and on the -day of their departure there was a convocation of nearly the whole -tribe, and it was a time of wild, savage excitement and deep mourning. - -“I soon learned, though by mere accident, that so far as life was -concerned, I had an interest in this expedition equal to that of the -most exposed among the warriors. It had been an unvarying custom among -them that if any of their number should be slain in battle, the lives -of prisoners or captives must be sacrificed therefor, up to the number -of the slain, (if that number should be among them,) and that in the -most torturing manner. This was not done to appease their gods, for -they had none, but was a gift to the spirits of the other spheres. -Their only theory about a Supreme Being is that there is a chief of all -the Indians who reigns in splendor and pomp, and that his reign is one -of wisdom and equity, and would last forever. They believed that at the -gate of their elysium a porter was in constant attendance, who received -all good, brave Indians, and welcomed them to immense hunting-grounds -and all manner of sensual pleasures; that if one sought admittance -there without a bow and hunting implements, he was to subsist as best -he could, for no provision was to be made for him after leaving his -tribe. Many were the questions they asked me after they had ascertained -what I believed concerning the nature of the heaven of which I spoke, -and the employments there. But generally they would wind up the -conversation with ridicule and mockings. When they saw me weep or in -trouble they would sometimes say: ‘Why don’t you look up and call your -great God out of the sky, and have him take you up there.’ But under -all this I could plainly see that their questions were not wholly -insincere. They frequently marveled, and occasionally one would say: -‘You whites are a singular people; I should like to know what you will -be when a great many moons have gone by?’ Sometimes they would say as -did the Apaches, that we must be fools for believing that heaven was -above the sky; that if it were so the people would drop down. One of -the squaws said tauntingly to me: ‘When you go to your heaven you had -better take a strong piece of bark and tie yourself up, or you will be -coming down among us again.’ After the soldiers had departed they told -me plainly that my life must pay for the first one that might be slain -during this contest. - -“I had but a little before learned that we were not much further from -the white settlements than when among the Apaches, and had been fondly -hoping that as parties of the tribe occasionally made excursions to the -settlements, I might yet make my situation known and obtain relief. But -now I was shut up to the alternatives of either making an immediate -effort to escape, which would be sure to cost my life if detected, -or to wait in dreadful suspense the bare probability of none of these -soldiers being slain, as the only chance for myself if I remained. - -“The report of the strengthening of the Cochopas since their last -expedition gave me reason to fear the worst. Thus for a long time, -and just after having reached a bright place (if such there can be in -such a situation) in my captivity, I was thrown into the gloomiest -apprehensions for my life. I could not calculate upon life; I did not. - -“For five months not a night did I close my eyes for a troubled sleep, -or wake in the morning but last and first were the thoughts of the -slender thread upon which my life was hung. The faint prospect in which -I had been indulging, that their plans of increasing traffic with the -Mexicans and whites might open the doors for my return, was now nearly -blasted. - -“I had been out one fine day in August several miles gathering roots -for the chief’s family, and returning a little before sunset, as I came -in sight of the village I saw an Indian at some distance beyond the -town descending a hill to the river from the other side. He was so far -away that it was impossible for me to tell whether he was a Yuma or a -Mohave. These two tribes were on friendly terms, and frequent ‘criers’ -or news-carriers passed between them. I thought at once of the absent -warriors, and of my vital interest in the success or failure of their -causeless, barbarous crusade. I soon saw that he was a Mohave, and -tremblingly believed that I could mark him as one of the army. - -“With trembling and fear I watch his hastened though evidently wearied -pace. He went down into the river and as he rose again upon the bank -I recognized him. ‘He is wearied,’ I said, ‘and jogs heavily along as -though he had become nearly exhausted from long travel. Why can he be -coming in alone?’ Questions of this character played across my mind, -and were asked aloud by me ere I was aware, each like a pointed javelin -lashing and tormenting my fears. ‘Have the rest all perished?’ again I -exclaimed; ‘at any rate the decisive hour has come with me.’ - -“I stopped; my approach to the village had not been observed. I -resolved to wait and seek to cover one desperate effort to escape -under the first shades of night. I threw myself flat upon the ground; -I looked in every direction; mountain chains were strung around me on -every side like bulwarks of adamant, and if trails led through them I -knew them not. I partly raised myself up. I saw that Indian turn into a -hut upon the outskirts of the town. In a few moments the ‘criers’ were -out and bounding to the river and to the foot hills. Each on his way -started others, and soon the news was flying as on telegraphic wires. -‘_But what news?_’ I could but exclaim. I started up and resolved to -hasten to our hut and wait in silence the full returns. - -“I could imagine that I saw my doom written in the countenance of every -Mohave I met. But each one maintained a surly reserve or turned upon -me a sarcastic smile. A crowd was gathering fast, but not one word was -let fall for my ear. In total, awful silence I looked, I watched, I -guessed, but dared not speak. It seemed that every one was reading and -playing with my agitation. Soon the assemblage was convened, a fire was -lighted, and ‘Ohitia’ rose up to speak; I listened, and my heart seemed -to leap to my mouth as he proceeded to state, in substance, thus: -‘Mohaves have triumphed; five prisoners taken; all on their way; none -of our men killed; they will be in to-morrow!’ - -“Again one of the blackest clouds that darkened the sky of my Mohave -captivity broke, and the sunshine of gladness and gratitude was upon -my heart. Tears of gratitude ran freely down my face. I buried my face -in my hands and silently thanked God. I sought a place alone, where -I might give full vent to my feelings of thanksgiving to my heavenly -Father. I saw his goodness, in whose hands are the reins of the wildest -battle storm, and thanked him that this expedition, so freighted with -anxiety, had issued so mercifully to me. - -“The next day four more came in with the captives, and in a few days -all were returned, without even a scar to tell of the danger they had -passed. The next day after the coming of the last party, a meeting of -the whole tribe was called, and one of the most enthusiastic rejoicing -seasons I ever witnessed among them it was. It lasted, indeed, for -several days. They danced, sung, shouted, and played their corn-stalk -flutes until for very weariness they were compelled to refrain. It -was their custom never to eat salted meat for the next moon after the -coming of a captive among them. Hence our salt fish were for several -days left to an undisturbed repose. - -“Among the captives they had stolen from the unoffending Cochopas, and -brought in with them, was a handsome, fair complexioned young woman, of -about twenty-five years of age. She was as beautiful an Indian woman -as I have ever seen; tall, graceful, and ladylike in her appearance. -She had a fairer, lighter skin than the Mohaves or the other Cochopa -captives. But I saw upon her countenance and in her eyes the traces of -an awful grief. The rest of the captives appeared well and indifferent -about themselves. - -“This woman called herself ‘Nowereha.’ Her language was as foreign to -the Mohaves as the American, except to the few soldiers that had been -among them. The other captives were girls from twelve to sixteen years -old; and while they seemed to wear a ‘don’t care’ appearance, this -Nowereha was perfectly bowed down with grief. I observed she tasted -but little food. She kept up a constant moaning and wailing, except -when checked by the threats of her boastful captors. I became very -much interested in her, and sought to learn the circumstances under -which she had been torn from her home. Of her grief I thought I knew -something. She tried to converse with me. - -“With much difficulty I learned of her what had happened since the -going of the Mohave warriors among her tribe, and this fully explained -her extreme melancholy. Their town was attacked in the night by the -Mohave warriors, and after a short engagement the Cochopas were put -to flight; the Mohaves hotly pursued them. Nowereha had a child about -two months old; but after running a short distance her husband came up -with her, grasped the child, and run on before. This was an act showing -a humaneness that a Mohave warrior did not possess, for he would have -compelled his wife to carry the child, he kicking her along before him. -She was overtaken and captured. - -“For one week Nowereha wandered about the village by day, a perfect -image of desperation and despair. At times she seemed insane: she slept -but little at night. The thieving, cruel Mohaves who had taken her, and -were making merry over her griefs, knew full well the cause of it all. -They knew that without provocation they had robbed her of her child, -and her child of its mother. They knew the attraction drawing her back -to her tribe, and they watched her closely. But no interest or concern -did they manifest save to mock and torment her. - -“Early one morning it was noised through the village that Nowereha was -missing. I had observed her the day before, when the chief’s daughter -gave her some corn, to take part of the same, after grinding the rest, -to make a cake and hide it in her dress. When these captives were -brought in, they were assigned different places through the valley -at which to stop. Search was made to see if she had not sought the -abiding-place of some of her fellow-captives. This caused some delay, -which I was glad to see, though I dared not express my true feelings. - -“When it was ascertained that she had probably undertaken to return, -every path and every space dividing the immediate trails was searched, -to find if possible some trace to guide a band of pursuers. A large -number were stationed in different parts of the valley, and the most -vigilant watch was kept during the night, while others started in quest -of her upon the way they supposed she had taken to go back. When I saw -a day and night pass in these fruitless attempts, I began to hope for -the safety of the fugitive. I had seen enough of her to know that she -was resolved and of unconquerable determination. Some conjectured that -she had been betrayed away; others that she had drowned herself, and -others that she had taken to the river and swam away. They finally -concluded that she had killed herself, and gave up the search, vowing -that if she had fled they would yet have her and be avenged. - -“Just before night, several days after this, a Yuma Indian came -suddenly into camp, driving this Cochopa captive. She was the most -distressed-looking being imaginable when she returned. Her hair -disheveled, her few old clothes torn, (they were woolen clothes,) her -eyes swollen, and every feature of her noble countenance distorted. - -“‘Criers’ were kept constantly on the way between the Mohaves and -Yumas, bearing news from tribe to tribe. These messengers were their -news-carriers and sentinels. Frequently two criers were employed, -(sometimes more,) one from each tribe. These would have their -meeting-stations. At these stations these criers would meet with -promptness, and by word of mouth each would deposit his store of news -with his fellow-expressman, and then each would return to his own -tribe with the news. When the news was important, or was of a warning -character, as in time of war, they would not wait for the fleet foot of -the ‘runner,’ but had their signal fires well understood, which would -telegraph the news hundreds of miles in a few hours. One of these Yuma -criers, about four days after the disappearance of Nowereha, was coming -to his station on the road connecting these two tribes, when he spied -a woman under a shelf of the rock on the opposite side of the river. -He immediately plunged into the stream and went to her. He knew the -tribe to which she belonged, and that the Mohaves had been making war -upon them. He immediately started back with her to the Mohave village. -It was a law to which they punctually lived, to return all fleeing -fugitives or captives of a friendly tribe. - -“It seemed that she had concealed that portion of the corn meal she did -not bake, with a view of undertaking to escape. - -“When she went out that night she plunged immediately into the river -to prevent them from tracking her. She swam several miles that night, -and then hid herself in a willow wood; thinking that they would be in -close pursuit, she resolved to remain there until they should give up -hunting for her. Here she remained nearly two days, and her pursuers -were very near her several times. She then started, and swam where the -river was not too rapid and shallow, when she would out and bound over -the rocks. In this way, traveling only in the night, she had gone near -one hundred and thirty miles. She was, as she supposed, safely hid in a -cave, waiting the return of night, when the Yuma found her. - -“On her return another noisy meeting was called, and they spent the -night in one of their _victory_ dances. They would dance around her, -shout in her ears, spit in her face, and show their threats of a -murderous design, assuring her that they would soon have her where she -would give them no more trouble by running away. - -“The next morning a post was firmly placed in the ground, and about -eight feet from the ground a cross-beam was attached. They then drove -large, rough wooden spikes through the palms of poor Nowereha’s hands, -and by these they lifted her to the cross and drove the spikes into the -soft wood of the beam, extending her hands as far as they could. They -then, with pieces of bark stuck with thorns, tied her head firmly back -to the upright post, drove spikes through her ankles, and for a time -left her in this condition. - -“They soon returned, and placing me with their Cochopa captives near -the sufferer, bid us keep our eyes upon her until she died. This they -did, as they afterward said, to exhibit to me what I might expect if -they should catch me attempting to escape. They then commenced running -round Nowereha in regular circles, hallooing, stamping, and taunting -like so many demons, in the most wild and frenzied manner. After a -little while several of them supplied themselves with bows and arrows, -and at every circlet would hurl one of these poisoned instruments of -death into her quivering flesh. Occasionally she would cry aloud, and -in the most pitiful manner. This awakened from that mocking, heartless -crowd the most deafening yells. - -[Illustration: HORRID DEATH OF THE INDIAN CAPTIVE.] - -“She hung in this dreadful condition for over two hours ere I was -certain she was dead, all the while bleeding and sighing, her body -mangled in the most shocking manner. When she would cry aloud they -would stuff rags in her mouth, and thus silence her. When they were -quite sure she was dead, and that they could no longer inflict pain -upon her, they took her body to a funeral pile and burned it. - -“I had before this thought, since I had come to know of the vicinity -of the whites, that I would get some knowledge of the way to their -abodes by means of the occasional visits the Mohaves made to them, and -make my escape. But this scene discouraged me, however, and each day I -found myself, not without hope it is true, but settling down into such -contentment as I could with my lot. For the next eighteen months during -which I was witness to their conduct, these Mohaves took more care and -exercised more forethought in the matter of their food. They did not -suffer, and seemed to determine not to suffer the return of a season -like 1852. - -“I saw but little reason to expect anything else than the spending of -my years among them, and I had no anxiety that they should be many. -I saw around me none but savages, and (dreadful as was the thought) -among whom I must spend my days. There were some with whom I had -become intimately acquainted, and from whom I had received humane and -friendly treatment, exhibiting real kindness. I thought it best now -to conciliate the best wishes of all, and by every possible means to -avoid all occasions of awakening their displeasure, or enkindling their -unrepentant, uncontrollable temper and passions. - -“There were some few for whom I began to feel a degree of attachment. -Every spot in that valley that had any attraction, or offered a retreat -to the sorrowing soul, had become familiar, and upon much of its -adjacent scenery I delighted to gaze. Every day had its monotony of -toil, and thus I plodded on. - -“To escape seemed impossible, and to make an unsuccessful attempt would -be worse than death. Friends or kindred to look after or care for me, -I had none, as I then supposed. I thought it best to receive my daily -allotment with submission, and not darken it with a borrowed trouble; -to merit and covet the good-will of my captors, whether I received it -or not. At times the past, with all its checkered scenes, would roll up -before me, but all of it that was most deeply engraven upon my mind was -that which I would be soonest to forget if I could. Time seemed to take -a more rapid flight; I hardly could wake up to the reality of so long -a captivity among savages, and really imagined myself happy for short -periods. - -“I considered my age, my sex, my exposure, and was again in trouble, -though to the honor of these savages let it be said, they never offered -the least unchaste abuse to me. - -“During the summer of 1855 I was eye-witness to another illustration -of their superstition, and of its implacability when appealed to. The -Mohaves had but a simple system or theory of medicine. They divide -disease into spiritual and physical, or at least they used terms that -conveyed such an impression as this to my mind. The latter they treated -mainly to an application of their medical leaf, generally sweating -the patient by wrapping him in blankets and placing him over the -steam from these leaves warmed in water. For the treatment of their -spiritual or more malignant diseases they have physicians. All diseases -were ranked under the latter class that had baffled the virtue of the -medical leaf, and that were considered dangerous. - -“In the summer of 1855 a sickness prevailed to a considerable extent, -very much resembling in its workings the more malignant fevers. Several -died. Members of the families of two of the sub-chiefs were sick, -and their physicians were called. These ‘M.D.s’ were above the need -of pills, and plasters, and powders, and performed their cures by -manipulations, and all manner of contortions of their own bodies, which -were performed with loud weeping and wailing of the most extravagant -kind over the sick. They professed to be in league and intimacy with -the spirits of the departed, and from whose superior knowledge and -position they were guided in all their curative processes. Two of these -were called to the sick bedside of the children of these chiefs. They -wailed and wrung their hands, and twisted themselves into all manner of -shapes over them for some time, but it was in vain, the patients died. -They had lost several patients lately, and already their medical repute -was low in the market. Threats had already followed them from house to -house, as their failures were known. After the death of these children -of rank, vengeance was sworn upon them, as they were accused of having -bargained themselves to the evil spirits for purpose of injury to the -tribe. They knew of their danger and hid themselves on the other side -of the river. For several days search was made, but in vain. They had -relatives and friends who kept constant guard over them. But such was -the feeling created by the complainings of those who had lost children -and friends by their alleged conspiracy with devils, that the tribe -demanded their lives, and the chief gave orders for their arrest. But -their friends managed in a sly way to conceal them for some time, -though they did not dare to let their managery be known to the rest of -the tribe. They were found, arrested, and burned alive. - -“The Mohaves believe that when their friends die they depart to a -certain high hill in the western section of their territory. That they -there pursue their avocation free from the ills and pains of their -present life, if they had been good and brave. But they held that all -cowardly Indians (and bravery was _the_ good with them) were tormented -with hardships and failures, sickness and defeats. This hill or hades, -they never dared visit. It was thronged with thousands who were ready -to wreak vengeance upon the mortal who dared intrude upon this sacred -ground. - -“Up to the middle of February, 1856, nothing occurred connected with -my allotment that would be of interest to the reader. One day as I was -grinding musquite near the door of our dwelling, a lad came running up -to me in haste, and said that Francisco, a Yuma crier, was on his way -to the Mohaves, and that he was coming to try and get me away to the -whites. The report created a momentary strange sensation, but I thought -it probably was a rumor gotten up by these idlers (as they were wont -to do) merely to deceive and excite me to their own gratification. In -a few moments, however, the report was circulating on good authority, -and as a reality. One of the sub-chiefs came in said that a Yuma -Indian, named Francisco, was now on his way with positive orders for my -immediate release and safe return to the fort. - -“I knew that there were white persons at Fort Yuma, but did not know my -distance from the place. I knew, too, that intercourse of some kind was -constantly kept up with the Yumas and the tribes extending that way, -and thought that they had perhaps gained traces of my situation by this -means. But as yet I had nothing definite upon which to place confidence. - -“I saw in a few hours that full credit was given to the report by the -Mohaves, for a sudden commotion was created, and it was enkindling -excitement throughout the settlement. The report spread over the valley -with astonishing speed, by means of their criers, and a crowd was -gathering, and the chiefs and principal men were summoned to a council -by their head ‘Aespaniola,’ with whom I stayed. Aespaniola was a tall, -strongly built man, active and generally happy. He seemed to possess -a mildness of disposition and to maintain a gravity and seriousness -in deportment that was rare among them. He ruled a council (noisy as -they sometimes were) with an ease and authority such as but few Indians -can command, if the Mohaves be a fair example. This council presented -the appearance of an aimless convening of wild maniacs, more than that -of _men_, met to deliberate. I looked upon the scene as a silent but -narrowly watched spectator, but was not permitted to be in the crowd or -to hear what was said. - -“I knew the declared object of the gathering, and was the subject of -most anxious thoughts as to its issue and results. I thought I saw upon -the part of some of them, a designed working of themselves into a mad -phrenzy, as if preparatory to some brutal deed. I queried whether yet -the report was not false; and also as to the persons who had sent the -reported message, and by whom it might be conveyed. I tried to detect -the prevailing feeling among the most influential of the council, but -could not. Sometimes I doubted whether all this excitement could have -been gotten up on the mere question of my return to the whites. - -“For some time past they had manifested but little watchfulness, care, -or concern about me. But still, though I was debarred from the council, -I had heard enough to know that it was only about me and the reported -demand for my liberty. - -“In the midst of the uproar and confusion the approach of Francisco -was announced. The debate suddenly ceased, and it was a matter of much -interest to me to be able to mark, as I did, the various manifestations -by which different ones received him. - -“Some were sullen, and would hardly treat him with any cordiality; -others were indifferent, and with a shake of the head would say, -‘Degee, degee, ontoa, ontoa,’ (I don’t care for the captive;) others -were angry, and advised that he be kept out of the council and driven -back at once; others were dignified and serious. - -“I saw Francisco enter the council, and I was at once seized by two -Indians and bade be off to another part of the village. I found myself -shut up alone, unattended, unprotected. A message as from a land of -light had suddenly broken in upon my dark situation, and over it, and -also over my destiny; the most intense excitement was prevailing, more -vehement, if possible, than any before, and I denied the privilege of a -plea or a word to turn the scale in favor of my rights, my yearnings, -my hopes, or my prayers. - -“I did pray God then to rule that council. My life was again hung up -as upon a single hair. The most of my dread for the present was, that -these savages of untamed passions would become excited against my -release, and enraged that the place of my abode had been found out. I -feared and trembled for my fate, and could not sleep. For three days -and most of three nights this noisy council continued; at times the -disputants became angry (as Francisco afterward told me) as rival -opinions and resolutions fired their breasts. As yet I knew not by what -means my locality had become known, or who had sent the demand; nor did -I know as yet that anything more than a word of mouth message had been -sent.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - Lorenzo Oatman--His Stay at Fort Yuma--Goes with Dr. Hewit to San - Francisco--His constant Misery on Account of his Sisters--Dark - Thoughts--Cold Sympathy--Goes to the Mines--Resolves to go to - Los Angeles to learn if possible of his Sisters--His earnest but - fruitless Endeavors--The Lesson--Report brought by Mr. Roulit of - two Captives among the Mohaves--The false Report of Mr. Black--Mr. - Grinell--Petitions the Governor--Petitions Congress--The Report of - the Rescue of Olive--Mr. Low. - - -We now ask the reader to trace with us for a few pages, a brief account -of the movements and efforts (mainly by her brother) by which this -scene had been waked up in the captive home of Miss Olive, and that -had extended this new opening for her rescue. In chapter third we left -Lorenzo disabled, but slowly recovering from the effect of his bruises, -at Fort Yuma. Of the kindness of Dr. Hewit we there spoke. - -We here give a narrative of the winding, care-thorned course of the boy -of scarce fifteen years, for the next five years, and the ceaseless -toil and vigilance he exercised to restore those captive sisters; as we -have received the items from his own mouth. It is worth the painstaking -that its perusal will cost, showing as it does, a true affection and -regard for his kindred, while the discretion and perseverance by which -his promptings were guided would do honor to the man of thirty. - -He was at Fort Yuma three months, or nearly that time. Dr. Hewit -continued to watch over him up to San Francisco, and until he went -East, and then provided for him a home. Besides, he did all in his -power to aid him in ascertaining some traces of his sisters. At -the fort Lorenzo knew that his sisters were captives. He entreated -Commander Heinsalman, as well as did others, to make some effort -to regain them, but it was vain that he thus pleaded for help. The -officers and force at the fort were awake to the reasonableness and -justice of his plea. Some of them anxiously longed to make a thorough -search for them. They were not permitted to carry the exposed family -bread and needed defense, but had been out and seen the spot where they -had met a cruel death, and now they longed to follow the savage Apache -to his hiding-place, break the arm of the oppressor, and if possible, -rescue the living spoil they had taken. The short time of absence -granted to Lieutenant Maury and Captain Davis, though well filled up -and faithfully, could not reach the distant captives. - -At times this brother resolved to arm himself, and take a pack of -provisions and start, either to accomplish their rescue or die with -them. But this step would have only proved a short road to one of -their funeral piles. In June of this year the entire force was removed -from the fort to San Diego, except about a dozen men to guard the -ferrymen. On the 26th of June, with Dr. Hewit, Lorenzo came to San -Francisco. After Dr. Hewit had left for the States he began to reflect -on his loneliness, and more deeply than ever upon his condition and -that of his sisters. Sometimes he would stray upon the hills at night -in the rear of the city, so racked with despair and grief as to -determine upon taking his own life, if he could not secure the rescue -of the captives. He found the stirring, throbbing life of San Francisco -beating almost exclusively to the impulses of gold-hunting. Of -acquaintances he had none, nor did he possess any desire to make them. - -“Often,” he says, “have I strolled out upon these sidewalks and -traveled on until I was among the hills to which these streets -conducted me, to the late hour of the night, stung by thinking and -reflecting upon the past and present of our family kingdom.” He was -given employment by the firm in whose care he had been left by Dr. -Hewit. He soon found that tasks were assigned him in the wholesale -establishment beyond his years and strength. He seriously injured -himself by lifting, and was compelled to leave. “This I regretted,” he -says, “for I found non-employment a misery.” - -Every hour his mind was still haunted by the _one all-absorbing theme_! -His sisters, his own dear sisters, spirit of his spirit, and blood of -his blood, were in captivity. For aught he knew, they were suffering -cruelties and abuse worse than death itself, at the hands of their -captors. He could not engage steadily in any employment. Dark and -distressing thoughts were continually following him. No wonder that -he would often break out with utterances like these: “O my God! must -they there remain? Can there be no method devised to rescue them? Are -they still alive, or have they suffered a cruel death? I will know if I -live.” - -He had no disposition to make acquaintances, unless to obtain sympathy -and help for the one attempt that from the first he had meditated; no -temptation to plunge into vice to drown his trouble, for he only lived -to see them rescued, if yet alive. - -Thus three years passed away, some of the time in the mines and a -portion of it in the city. Frequently his sadness was noticed, and -its cause kindly inquired after, upon which he would give an outline -of the circumstances that had led to his present uncheered condition. -Some would weep and manifest much anxiety to do something to aid him in -the recovery of his lost kindred; others would wonder and say nothing; -others--_strangers!_--were sometimes incredulous, and scoffed. He knew -that the route by which he had reached this country was still traveled -by emigrants, and he resolved upon going to Los Angeles with the hope -that he might there obtain some knowledge of the state of things in -the region of Fort Yuma. Accordingly, in October of 1854, he started -for that place, and resolved there to stay until he might obtain some -traces of his sisters, if it should take a whole lifetime. He found -there those who had lately passed over the road, and some who had -spent a short time at the stopping-places so sadly familiar to him. He -inquired, and wrote letters, and used all diligence (as some persons -now in that region, and others in San Francisco can bear witness) to -accomplish the one end of all his care. He worked by the month a part -of the time to earn a living, and spent the remainder in devising and -setting on foot means to explore the region lying about Fort Yuma -and beyond. Thus, in the most miserable state of mind, and in utter -fruitlessness of endeavor, passed away almost a year. During the spring -of 1855 several emigrants came by this trail. Of them he could learn -nothing, only that they had heard at Fort Yuma of the fate of the -“family of Oatmans.” - -One company there was who told him of a Mr. Grinell, a carpenter at -Fort Yuma, who had told them that he knew of the massacre of the Oatman -family, and of the captivity of the girls, and that he intended to do -all in his power to recover them. He said that their brother, who was -left for dead, was now alive, and at Los Angeles; that a letter had -been received at the fort from him concerning his sisters, and that -he should exert himself to find them out and rescue them. This Mr. -Grinell also stated that he had come to Fort Yuma in 1853, and had -been making inquiries of the Yumas ever since concerning these captive -girls. Beyond this, no ray of light broke upon the thickening gloom -of that despairing brother. He tried to raise companions to attend -him in the pursuit of them to the mountains. At one time names were -registered, and all preparations made by a large company of volunteers, -who were going out for this purpose, but a trivial circumstance broke -up the anticipated expedition and frustrated the whole plan. And at -other times other kindred plans were laid, and well-nigh matured, but -some unforeseen occasion for postponement or abandonment would suddenly -come up. He found friends, and friends to the cherished ambition of his -heart, in whom flowed the currents of a true and positive sympathy, and -who were ready to peril life in assisting him in the consummation of -his life-object. And often he found this concealed under the roughest -garb, while sometimes smooth words and a polished exterior proffered no -means of help beyond mere appearance. - -He says: “I learned, amid the harassings of that year two things: 1. -That men did not come across the plains to hunt captives among the -Indians; 2. That a true sympathy is oftenest found among those who -have themselves also suffered.” He found that to engage an ally in an -undertaking dictated by pity for suffering friends, one must go among -those who have felt the pang of kindred ills. Often, when he thought -all was ready to start with an engaged party to scour the Apache -country, did he find some trifling excuse called in to cover a retreat -from an undertaking with which these subjects of a “show sympathy” had -no _real_ interest from the first. Thus he came to learn human nature, -but was not discouraged. Could we turn upon these pages the full tide -of the heart-yearnings and questionings that struggled in that young -man’s heart, by daylight, by twilight, by moonlight, as he strolled -(as often he did) for reflection upon old ocean’s shore, on the sandy -beach, in the wood, it might cause the heart of the reader to give heed -to the tales of true grief that daily strew his way, and kindle a just -contempt for a _mere artificial sympathy_. - -The year 1855 found him undaunted, still pressing on to the dictates of -_duty to his beloved sisters_. Every failure and mishap but kindled his -zeal anew. Parties of men organized late in 1855 to hunt gold on the -Mohave River, about one hundred miles from San Bernardino. He joined -several of these, with the promise from men among them that they would -turn their excursion into a hunt for his kindred. Once he succeeded in -getting as far as, and even beyond (though further north) Fort Yuma. -But still he could not prevail upon a sufficient number to go as far -as the Apache country to make it safe to venture. Many would say that -his sisters were dead, and it was useless to hunt them. He joined -surveying parties with this same one object in view. In 1855 a force -equal to the one that was there in 1851 was again at Fort Yuma, and -several of the same officers and men. The place of Commander Heinsalman -had been filled by another man. In December, 1855, a party of five -men resolved to join Mr. Oatman and search for his sisters until some -definite knowledge of them might be obtained. They spent several weeks -south and west of Fort Yuma, and had returned to San Bernardino to -re-supply themselves with provisions for a trip further north. - -While at this place Lorenzo received a letter from a friend residing -at the Monte, and stating that a Mr. Rowlit had just come in across -the plains; that he spent some time at Fort Yuma, and there learned -from the officers that, through the Yuma Indians, Mr. Grinell had -gathered intimations of the fact of there being two white girls among -the Mohaves, and that these Yumas had stated that they were a part of -a family who had been attacked, and some of them murdered, in 1851, -by the Apaches. That the Apaches had since sold these girls to the -Mohaves. “This letter,” says Lorenzo, “I wet with my tears. I thought -of that little Mary Ann, of the image that my last look into her face -had left, and then of Olive. I began to reckon up their present age, -and the years of dark captivity that had passed over them. Can they -yet be alive? May I yet see them? Will God help me?” - -Lorenzo reached the Monte, after traveling all night, the next day -about seven A. M. He saw Mr. Rowlit, and found the contents of the -letter corroborated by him. He prepared a statement of the facts, -and sent them to the “Los Angeles Star.” These the editor published, -kindly accompanying them by some well-timed and stirring remarks. This -awakened an interest that the community had not felt before. While this -was yet alive in the hearts and mouths of the people, a Mr. Black came -into town, just from the East, by way of Fort Yuma. He stated that two -girls were among the Mohaves, and that the chief had offered them to -the officers at the fort for a mere nominal price, but that Commander -Burke had refused to make the purchase. Of this statement Lorenzo knew -nothing until he had seen it in the “Star.” This threw a shade upon his -mind, and gave him to think less of poor humanity than ever before. He -found that but few placed any reliance upon the report. Mr. Black was -well known in that vicinity, and those who knew him best were disposed -to suspend judgment until the statement should be supported by other -authority. - -The editor of the “Star” had published the report with the best -intentions, giving his authority. This report reached the fort, and -created a great deal of sensation. They sent the editor a letter -denying the truthfulness of the report, and requesting him to publish -it, which he did. Accompanying the letter was a statement confirming -the existence of a report at the fort of reliable intimations of the -two girls being among the Mohaves, but that no offer had been made of -delivering them up to the whites on any terms. - -During this time Lorenzo had drawn up a petition, and obtained a large -number of signers, praying of the Governor of California means and -men to go and rescue his captive sisters. This was sent to Governor -Johnson, at Sacramento, and the following reply was received: - - “EXECUTIVE DEPARTMENT, - “SACRAMENTO, CAL., _Jan’y 29, 1856_. - - “MR. LORENZO D. OATMAN. SIR,--A petition signed by yourself and - numerous residents of the County of Los Angeles has been presented to - me, asking assistance of ‘men and means’ to aid in the recovery of - your sister, a captive among the Mohave tribe of Indians. It would - afford me great pleasure, indeed, to render the desired assistance, - were it in my power so to do. But by the constitution and laws of this - state I have not the authority conferred on me to employ either ‘men - or means’ to render this needful assistance; but will be most happy - to co-operate in this laudable undertaking in any consistent way that - may be presented. I would, however, suggest that through the general - government the attention of the Indian Department being called to the - subject, would more likely crown with success such efforts as might - be necessary to employ in attempting the rescue of the unfortunate - captive. - - “Very respectfully your obedient servant, - - “J. NEELY JOHNSON.” - -Accordingly, and in accordance with the above suggestion, a preamble -stating the facts, and a petition numerously signed, was drawn up -and left at the office at the Steamer Landing to be forwarded to -Washington. “Two days after,” says Lorenzo, “I had resigned myself to -patient waiting for a return of that petition, and went to work at some -distance from the Monte in the woods.” He was still musing upon the -one object of the last five years’ solicitude. A new light had broken -in upon his anxious heart. He had now some reliable information of the -probable existence, though in a barbarous captivity, of those who were -bound to him by the strongest ties. - -He was left now to hope for their rescue, but not without painful fears -lest something might yet intervene to prevent the realization of his -new expectations. While thus engaged, alone and in the solitude of his -thoughts, as well as of the wilderness, a friend rode up to him, and -without speaking handed him a copy of the “Los Angeles Star,” pointing -at the same time to a notice contained in it. He opened it, and read as -follows: - -“_An American Woman rescued from the Indians!_--A woman, giving her -name as Miss Olive Oatman, has been recently rescued from the Mohaves, -and is now at Fort Yuma.” - -After getting this short note he took a horse and went immediately to -Los Angeles. He went to the editor, and found that a letter had been -received by him from Commander Burke, at Fort Yuma, stating that a -young woman, calling herself “Olive Oatman,” had been recently brought -into the fort by a Yuma Indian, who had been rescued from the Mohave -tribe; also stating to the editor that she had a brother who had lately -been in this vicinity, and requesting the editor to give the earliest -possible notice to that brother of the rescue of his sister. Lorenzo -says: - -“I requested him to let me see the letter, which he did. When I came -to the facts contained in it concerning my sister, I could read -no further; I was completely overcome. I laughed, I cried, I half -doubted, I believed. It did not seem to be a reality. I now thought I -saw a speedy realization, in part, of my long cherished hopes. I saw -no mention of Mary Ann, and at once concluded that the first report -obtained by way of Fort Yuma, by Yuma Indians, was probably sadly true, -that but one was alive. Too well founded were the fears I then had that -poor Mary Ann had died among the savages, either by disease or cruelty. - -“I was without money or means to get to the fort; but there were -those who from the first had cherished a deep and active sympathy -with me, and who were ready to do all in their power to aid me in my -sorrow-strewn efforts for enslaved kindred. - -“This same Mr. Low who had rode from Los Angeles to me near the Monte, -kindly told me that he would assist me to obtain animals and get them -ready for me, and that he would accompany me to Fort Yuma.” - -Thus outfitted, though not without much trembling and anxiety, -questioning as to the certainty and reality of the reports, and of the -rescued person really being his sister, yet feeling _it must be true_; -with good hope he and Mr. Low were away early on the bright morning of -the 10th of March for Fort Yuma, a distance of two hundred and fifty -miles. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - Francisco goes over the River, and spends the Night--Persuades - some of the Sub-Chiefs to apply again for Permission to let - Olive go free--His Threats--The Chiefs return with him--Secret - Council--Another General Council--Danger of a Fight among - themselves--Francisco has a Letter from the Whites--Olive - present--Francisco gains Permission to give her the Letter--Its - Contents--Much alarmed--Speeches of the Indians--Advice to kill - their Captive--Determine to release her--Daughter of the Chief goes - with them--Their Journey--At Fort Yuma. - - -For a long time Olive had been apprised of the fact that intercourse -had been kept up between the Mohaves and the whites, as articles had -been brought in, from time to time, that she knew must have been -obtained from white settlements, either by plunder or purchase. These -were brought in by small parties, one of whom would frequently be -absent several days or weeks at a time. - -She saw in these the evidences that she was within reach still of the -race to which she belonged; and often would gaze with interest and -curiosity upon some old tattered garment that had been brought in, -until the remembrances and associations it would awaken would bring -tears and sighs to end the bitter meditations upon that brighter and -happier people, now no longer hers. She ventured to ask questions -concerning these trips, and the place where they found the whites; but -all her anxious queries were met by threats and taunts, or a long, -gibberish dissertation upon the perfidy of the whites, india-rubber -stories upon the long distance of the whites away, or a restatement -of their malignant hate toward them, and of their purpose to use the -knowledge they might gain by these professed friendly visits to their -ultimate overthrow, by treachery and deceit. They even professed to -disbelieve the statements that had so long deceived them concerning -the numerical strength of the whites, and to believe that the few of -them yet remaining could and would be overcome and extinguished by the -combined power of the Indian tribes, that at no distant day would be -directed against them. - -The chief’s daughter, however, ventured to tell Olive, under injunction -of secrecy, that some of their number knew well and had frequently -traversed the road leading to white settlements; but that it was an -immense distance, and that none but Indians could find it; besides that -it was guarded by vigilant spies against the incoming of any but their -own race. - -It should be kept in mind that as yet Olive had been forbidden a word -with Francisco. We left the narrative of Olive, in another chapter, -involved in the heated and angry debates of a long and tedious council. -Upon that wild council she had been waiting in dreadful suspense, not -a little mingled with terrible forebodings of her own personal safety. -This convention came to a conclusion with a positive and peremptory -refusal to liberate the captive; and a resolution to send Francisco -away, under injunction not again, under penalty of torture, to revisit -their camp. Francisco, on the same night, departed to the other side of -the river; the chiefs and sub-chiefs dispersed, and Olive was left to -her own melancholy musings over the probable result. - -She now began to regret that anything had been said or done about -her rescue. She was in darkness as to the effect that all this new -excitement upon her stay among them might have, after it should become -a matter of sober deliberation by the Mohaves alone. She saw and heard -enough, directly and indirectly, to know that they were set upon not -letting her go free. She began to fear for her life, especially as she -saw the marked changes in the conduct of the Indians toward her. The -wife of the chief seemed to feel kind still toward her; but yet she -plainly evinced that the doings of the last few days had compelled her -to disguise her real feelings. The chief was changed from a pleasant -don’t-care spectator of Olive’s situation, to a sullen, haughty, -overbearing tyrant and oppressor. - -Olive was now shut up to a newly enkindled hate, which sought -opportunities to fume its wrath against her. She now regarded all -efforts for her rescue as having reached a final and abrupt close. But -still she could not be ignorant, concealed and reserved as they were -in all their mutual consultations, of the fact that some dreadful fear -for themselves was galling and tormenting them. Expressions that she -well understood, and conveying their dread of the whites, and fear that -they might execute the threats brought by Francisco, constantly escaped -them, and came to the ears of the agitated subject and victim of their -new rage. - -Francisco spent the night upon which the council closed across the -river. He there plied every argument and stratagem that his cunning -mind could devise to persuade the principal men on that side of the -Colorado to recede from the resolution they had that day reached. He -employed the whole night in setting before them troubles that these -rash resolutions would bring upon them, and to convince them that it -was for their sakes alone that he desired to bear the captive to the -fort with him. - -He had resolved in his own mind not to leave without her, as she -afterward learned; and, on the failure of all other means, to risk his -life in a bold attempt to steal her away under darkness of night. But -in the morning he made preparations for leaving, (he really intended to -go back to the village,) when the magnates and councilmen, among whom -he had tarried for the night, came to him, and prevailed upon him to go -back with them, promising him that they had _now_ determined to do all -in their power to persuade the chief and tribe to yield to his demand, -and to let the captive go; fearing for the result to themselves of the -contrary determination already reached. - -About noon of the next day Olive saw Francisco, with a large number of -Mohaves, come into the village. It was not without much fear and alarm -that she saw this, though such had been the intense anxiety about her -situation, and the possibility of escape that the last few days had -enkindled, she felt willing to have a final conclusion now formed, -whether it should be her death or release. - -To live much longer there, she now thought she plainly saw would -be impossible; as she could only expect to be sold or barbarously -dispatched, after all that had passed upon the question of her release. -Besides this she felt that with the knowledge she had now gained of -the nearness and feeling of the whites, it would be worse than death -to be doomed to the miseries of her captivity, almost in sight of the -privileges of her native land. And hence, though the reappearance -of Francisco was an occasion for new tumult, and her own agitation -intense, she felt comforted in the prospect it opened of ending the -period of her present living death. - -“When Francisco returned I was out gathering ottileka, (a small -ground-nut of the size of the hazel-nut,) and had utterly abandoned the -hope of being released, as the council had broken up with an utter -refusal to let me go. Had I known all that had transpired I should have -felt much worse than as it was. I learned from Francisco since, that -the Indians had resolved (those who were friendly to my going) that for -fear that the whites would come to rescue me, they would kill me as -soon as it was decided I should not go. - -“I had not as yet seen the letter that Francisco brought to me. I -plainly saw a change in the conduct of the Indians to me since the -close of the recent agitation. What it foretold I could not even -conjecture. But I saw enough before swinging my basket that morning -upon my back to go out digging ottileka, to convince me that the wrath -of many of them was aroused. I struggled to suppress any emotion I -felt, while my anxious heart was beating over possible dreaded results -of this kind attempt to rescue me, which I thought I saw were to be of -a very different character from those intended.” - -The returning company came immediately to the house of the chief. At -first the chief refused to receive them. After a short secret council -with some members of his cabinet, he yielded; the other chiefs were -called, and with Francisco they were again packed in council. The -criers were again hurried forth, and the tribe was again convened. - -[Illustration: OLIVE BEFORE THE INDIAN COUNCIL.] - -At this council Olive was permitted to remain. The speaking was -conducted with a great deal of confusion, which the chief found it -difficult to prevent; speakers were frequently interrupted, and at -times there was a wild, uproarious tumult, and a heated temper and -heated speech were the order of the day. Says Olive: - -“It did seem during that night, at several stages of the debate, that -there was no way of preventing a general fight among them. Speeches -were made, which, judging from their gestures and motions, as well as -from what I could understand in their heat and rapidity, were full of -the most impassioned eloquence. - -“I found that they had told Francisco that I was not an American, that -I was from a race of people much like the Indians, living away to the -setting sun. They had painted my face, and feet, and hands of a dun, -dingy color, unlike that of any race I ever saw. This they told me they -did to deceive Francisco; and that I must not talk to him in American. -They told me to talk to him in another language, and to tell him that -I was not an American. They then waited to hear the result, expecting -to hear my gibberish nonsense, and to witness the convincing effect -upon Francisco. But I spoke to him in broken English, and told him the -truth, and also what they had enjoined me to do. He started from his -seat in a perfect rage, vowing that he would be imposed upon no longer. -He then broke forth upon them with one of the most vehement addresses I -ever heard. I felt and still feel an anxiety to know the full contents -of that speech. Part of it he gave me on the way to the fort. It was -full of eloquence, and was an exhibition of talent rarely found among -his race. - -“The Mohave warriors threatened to take my life for disobeying their -orders. They were doubly chagrined that their scheme had failed, and -also that their dishonest pretensions of my unwillingness to go with -him, and of my not being an American, had been found out. Some of -them persisted still in the falsehood, saying that I had learned some -American from living among them, but that I had told them that I was -not of that race. All this transpired after Francisco’s return, and -during his second and last effort for my rescue. - -“I narrowly looked at Francisco, and soon found he was one whom I had -seen there before, and who had tarried with the chief about three -months previously. I saw he held a letter in his hand and asked to -let me see it. Toward morning it was handed me, and Francisco told me -it was from the Americans. I took it, and after a little made out the -writing on the outside. - - “‘FRANCISCO, A YUMA INDIAN, GOING TO THE MOHAVES.’ - -“I opened it with much agitation. All was quiet as the grave around me. -I examined it for a long time ere I could get the sense, having seen no -writing for five years. It was as follows: - - “‘FRANCISCO, Yuma Indian, bearer of this, goes to the Mohave Nation to - obtain a white woman there, named OLIVIA. It is desirable she should - come to this post, or send her reasons why she does not wish to come. - - MARTIN BURKE. - Lieut. Col., Commanding. - - HEAD-QUARTERS, FORT YUMA, CAL., - - _27th January, 1856_.’ - -“They now began to importune and threaten me to give them the contents -of the letter. I waited and meditated for some time. I did not know -whether it was best to give it to them just as it was. Up to this -time I had striven to manifest no anxiety about the matter. They had -questioned and teased with every art, from little children up to men, -to know my feelings, though they should have known them well by this -time. I dared not in the excitement express a wish. Francisco had told -them that the whites knew where I was, and that they were about arming -a sufficient number to surround the whole Indian nations, and that they -thus intended to destroy them all unless they gave up the last captive -among them. He told them that the men at the fort would kill himself -and all they could find of them with the Yumas, if he should not bring -her back. He said it was out of mercy to his own tribe, and to them -that he had come. - -“They were still pressing me to read them the letter. I then told them -what was in it, and also that the Americans would send a large army and -destroy the Yumas and Mohaves, with all the Indians they could find, -unless I should return with Francisco. I never expect to address so -attentive an audience again as I did then. - -“I found that they had been representing to Francisco that I did not -wish to go to the whites. As soon as they thought they had the contents -of the letter, there was the breaking out of scores of voices at once, -and our chief found it a troublesome meeting to preside over. Some -advised that I should be killed, and that Francisco should report that -I was dead. Others that they at once refuse to let me go, and that the -whites could not hurt them. Others were in favor of letting me go at -once. And it was not until daylight that one could judge which counsel -would prevail. - -“In all this Francisco seemed bold, calm, and determined. He would -answer their questions and objections with the tact and cunning of a -pure Indian. - -“It would be impossible to describe my own feelings on reading that -letter, and during the remainder of the pow-wow. I saw now a reality -in all that was said and done. There was the handwriting of one of my -own people, and the whole showed plainly that my situation was known, -and that there was a purpose to secure my return. I sought to keep my -emotions to myself, for fear of the effect it might have upon my doom, -to express a wish or desire.” - -During this time the captive girl could only remain in the profoundest -and most painful silence, though _the one_ of all the agitated crowd -most interested in the matter and result of the debate. Daylight came -slowly up the east, finding the assembly still discussing the life and -death question (for such it really was) that had called them together. - -Some time after sunrise, and after Francisco and the captive had been -bid retire, the chief called them again in, and told them, with much -reluctance, that the decision had been to let the captive go. - -“At this,” says Olive, “and while yet in their presence, I found I -could no longer control my feelings, and I burst into tears, no longer -able to deny myself the pleasure of thus expressing the weight of -feeling that struggled for relief and utterance within me. - -“I found that it had been pleaded against my being given up, that -Francisco was suspected of simply coming to get me away from the -Mohaves that I might be retained by the Yumas. The chief accused him -of this, and said he believed it. This excited the anger of Francisco, -and he boldly told them what he thought of them, and told them to go -with their captive; that they would sorrow for it in the end. When it -was determined that I might go, the chief said that his daughter should -go and see that I was carried to the whites. We ate our breakfast, -supplied ourselves with mushed musquite, and started. Three Yuma -Indians had come with Francisco, to accompany him to and from the -Mohaves; his brother and two cousins. - -“I now began to think of really leaving my Indian home. Involuntarily -my eye strayed over that valley. I gazed on every familiar object. -The mountains that stood about our valley home, like sentinels tall -and bold, their every shape, color, and height, as familiar as the -door-yard about the dwelling in which I had been reared. - -“Again my emotions were distrusted, and I could hardly believe that -what was passing was reality. ‘Is it true,’ I asked, ‘that they have -concluded to let me escape? I fear they will change their mind. Can -it be that I am to look upon the white face again?’ I then felt like -hastening as for my life, ere they could revoke their decision. Their -looks, their motions, their flashing eyes reminded me that I was not -out of danger. Some of them came to me and sillily laughed, as much -as to say: ‘O, you feel very finely now, don’t you?’ Others stood and -gazed upon me with a steady, serious look, as if taking more interest -in my welfare than ever before. More than this I seemed to read in -their singular appearance; they seemed to stand in wonder as to where I -could be going. Some of them seemed to feel a true joy that I was made -so happy, and they would speak to me to that effect. - -“One little incident took place on the morning of my departure, that -clearly reflects the littleness and meanness that inheres in the -general character of the Indian. I had several small strings of beads; -most of them had been given me for singing to them when requested, -when they had visitors from other tribes. I purposed at once that I -would take these beads, together with some small pieces of blankets -that I had obtained at different times, and was wearing upon my person -at this time, to the whites as remembrancers of the past; but when I -was about ready to start, the son of the chief came and took all my -beads, with every woolen shred he could find about me, and quietly told -me that I could not take them with me. This, though a comparatively -trifling matter, afflicted me. I found that I prized those beads beyond -their real value; especially one string that had been worn by Mary. I -had hoped to retain them while I might live. I then gathered up a few -small ground-nuts, which I had dug with my own hands, and concealed -them; and some of them I still keep.” - -That same kind daughter of the chief who had so often in suppressed and -shy utterances spoken the word of condolence, and the wish to see Olive -sent to her native land, and had given every possible evidence of a -true and unaffected desire for her welfare, she was not sorry to learn -was to attend her upon the long and tedious trip by which her reunion -with the whites was hoped to be reached. - -But there was one spot in that valley of captivity that possessed a -mournful attraction for the emancipated captive. Near the wigwam where -she had spent many hours in loneliness, and Indian converse with her -captors, was a mound that marked the final resting-place of her last -deceased sister. Gladly would she, if it had been in her power, have -gathered the few moldering remains of that loved and cherished form, -and borne them away to a resting-place on some shaded retreat in the -soil of her own countrymen. But this privilege was denied her, and that -too while she knew that immediately upon her exit they would probably -carry their already made threats of burning them into execution. And -who would have left such a place, so enshrined in the heart as that -must have been, without a struggle, though her way from it lay toward -the home of the white man? That grave upon which she had so often -knelt, and upon which she had so often shed the bitter tear, the only -place around which affection lingered, must now be abandoned; not to -remain a place for the undisturbed repose of her sister’s remains, but -to disgorge its precious trust in obedience to the rude, barbarous -superstition that had waved its custom at the time of her death. No -wonder that she says: “I went to the grave of Mary Ann, and took a last -look of the little mound marking the resting-place of my sister who had -come with me to that lonely exile; and now I felt what it was to know -she could not go with me from it.” - -There had been in the employ of government at Fort Yuma, since 1853, a -Mr. Grinell, known, from his occupation, by the name of Carpentero. He -was a man of a large heart, and of many excellent qualities. He was -a man who never aimed to put on an exterior to his conduct that could -give any deceptive impression of heart and character. Indeed he often -presented a roughness and uncouthness which, however repulsive to the -stranger, was found nevertheless, on an acquaintance, to cover a noble -nature of large and generous impulses. A man of diligence and fidelity, -he merited and won the confidence of all who knew him. He possessed a -heart that could enter into sympathy with the subjects of suffering -wherever he found them. Soon after coming to Fort Yuma, he had learned -of the fate of the Oatman family, and of the certainty of the captivity -of two of the girls. With all the eagerness and solicitude that could -be expected of a kinsman, he inquired diligently into the particulars, -and also the reliability of the current statements concerning these -unfortunate captives. Nor did these cease in a moment or a day. He kept -up a vigilant outsight, searching to glean, if possible, something by -which to reach definite knowledge of them. - -He was friendly to the Yumas, numbers of whom were constantly about -the fort. Of them he inquired frequently and closely. Among those with -whom he was most familiar, and who was in most favor among the officers -at the fort, was Francisco. Carpentero had about given up the hope of -accomplishing what he desired, when one night Francisco crept by some -means through the guard, and found his way into the tent of his friend, -long after he had retired. - -Grinell awoke, and in alarm drew his pistol and demanded who was -there. Francisco spoke, and his voice was known. Grinell asked him -what he could be there for at that hour of the night. With an air of -indifference he said he had only come in to talk a little. After a -long silence and some suspicious movements, he broke out and said: -“Carpentero, what is this you say so much about two Americanos among -the Indians?” - -“Said,” replied Grinell; “I said that there are two girls among the -Mohaves or Apaches, and you know it, and we know that you know it.” -Grinell then took up a copy of the Los Angeles _Star_, and told -Francisco to listen, and he would read him what the Americans were -saying and thinking about it. He then reads, giving the interpretation -in Mexican, (which language Francisco could speak fluently,) an article -that had been gotten up and published at the instance of Lorenzo, -containing the report brought in by Mr. Rowlit, calling for help. The -article also stated that a large number of men were ready to undertake -to rescue the captives at once, if means could be furnished. - -But the quick and eager mind of Carpentero did not suffer the article -to stop with what he could find in the _Star_; keeping his eye still -upon the paper, he continued to read, that if the captives were not -delivered in so many days, there would be five millions of men thrown -around the mountains inhabited by the Indians, and that they would -annihilate the last one of them, if they did not give up all the white -captives. - -Many other things did that _Star_ tell at that time, of a like import, -but the which had got into the paper (if there at all) without editor, -type, or ink. - -Francisco listened with mouth, and ears, and eyes. After a short -silence, he said, (in Mexican,) “I know where there is one white girl -among the Mohaves; there were two, but one is dead.” - -At this the generous heart of Carpentero began to swell, and the object -of his anxious, disinterested sympathy for the first time began to -present itself as a bright reality. - -“When did you find out she was there?” said Carpentero. - -F. “I have just found it out to-night.” - -C. “Did you not know it before?” - -F. “Well, not long; me just come in, you know. Me know now she is there -among the Mohaves.” - -Carpentero was not yet fully satisfied that all was right. There had -been, and still was, apprehension of some trouble at the fort, from the -Yumas; and Carpentero did not know but that some murderous scheme was -concocted, and all this was a ruse to beguile and deceive them. - -Carpentero then told Francisco to stay in his tent for the night. -Francisco then told Carpentero that if Commander Burke would give -him authority, he would go and bring the girl into the fort. That -night Carpentero slept awake. Early in the morning they went to the -commander. For some time Commander Burke was disposed to regard it as -something originated by the cunning of Francisco, and did not believe -he would bring the girl in. Said Francisco: “You give me four blankets -and some beads, and I will bring her in just twenty days, when the sun -be right over here,” pointing to about forty-five degrees above the -western horizon. - -Carpentero begged the captain to place all that it would cost for the -outfit to his own account, and let him go. The captain consented, -a letter was written, and the Yuma, with a brother and two others, -started. This was about the eighth of February, 1856. - -Several days passed, and the men about the fort thought they had -Carpentero in a place where it would do to remind him of “_his trusty -Francisco_.” And thus they did, asking him if he “did not think his -blankets and beads had sold cheap?” if he “had not better send another -Indian after the blankets?” etc., with other questions indicating their -own distrust of the whole movement. - -On the twentieth day, about noon, three Yuma Indians, living some -distance from the fort, came to the fort and asked permission to see “a -man by the name of Carpentero.” They were shown his tent, and went in -and made themselves known, saying, “Carpentero, Francisco is coming.” - -“Has he the girl with him?” quickly asked the agitated Carpentero, -bounding to his feet. - -They laughed sillily, saying, “Francisco will come here when the sun be -right over there,” pointing in the direction marked by Francisco. - -With eager eyes Carpentero stood gazing for some time, when three -Indians and two females, dressed in closely woven bark skirts, came -down to the ferry on the opposite side of the river. At that he bounded -toward them, crying at the top of his voice, “They have come; _the -captive girl is here_!” All about the fort were soon apprised that it -was even so, and soon they were either running to meet and welcome the -captive, or were gazing with eagerness to know if this strange report -could be true. - -Olive, with her characteristic modesty, was unwilling to appear in her -bark attire and her poor shabby dress among the whites, eager as she -was to catch again a glimpse of their countenances, one of whom she had -not seen for years. As soon as this was made known, a noble-hearted -woman, the wife of one of the officers and the lady to whose kind -hospitalities she was afterward indebted for every kindness that could -minister to her comfort the few weeks she tarried there, sent her a -dress and clothing of the best she had. - -Amid long enthusiastic cheering and the booming of cannon, Miss Olive -was presented to the commander of the fort by Francisco. Every one -seemed to partake of the joy and enthusiasm that prevailed. Those -who had been the most skeptical of the intentions of Francisco, were -glad to find their distrust rebuked in so agreeable a manner. The -Yumas gathered in large numbers, and seemed to partake in the general -rejoicing, joining their heavy shrill voices in the shout, and fairly -making the earth tremble beneath the thunder of their cheering. - -Francisco told the captain he had been compelled to give more for the -captive than what he had obtained of him; that he had promised the -Mohave chief a horse, and that his daughter was now present to see that -this promise was fulfilled. Also, that a son of the chief would be in -within a few days to receive the horse. A good horse was given him, -and each of the kind officers at the fort testified their gratitude to -him, as well as their hearty sympathy with the long separated brother -and sister, by donating freely and liberally of their money to make up -a horse for Francisco; and he was told there, in the presence of the -rest of his tribe, that he had not only performed an act for which the -gratitude of the whites would follow him, but one that might probably -save his tribe and the Mohaves much trouble and many lives. - -[Illustration: ARRIVAL OF OLIVE AT FORT YUMA.] - -From this Francisco was promoted and became a “Tie” of his tribe, and -with characteristic pride and haughtiness of bearing, showed the -capabilities of the Indian to appreciate honors and preferment, by -looking with disdain and contempt upon his peers, and treating them -thus in the presence of the whites. - -Miss Olive was taken in by a very excellent family residing at the -fort at the time, and every kindness and tender regard bestowed upon -her that her generous host and hostess could make minister to her -contentment and comfort. She had come over three hundred and fifty -miles during the last ten days; frequently (as many as ten times) she -and her guides were compelled to swim the swollen streams, running and -rushing to the top of their banks with ice-water. The kind daughter of -the chief, with an affection that had increased with every month and -year of their association, showed more concern and eagerness for the -wellbeing of “Olivia” than her own. She would carry, through the long -and toilsome day, the roll of blankets that they shared together during -the night, and seemed very much concerned and anxious lest something -might yet prevent her safe arrival at the place of destination. - -Olive was soon apprised of the place of residence of her brother, whom -she had so long regarded as dead, and also of his untiring efforts, -during the last few years, for the rescue of his sister. - -“It was some time,” she says, “before I could realize that he was yet -alive. The last time I saw him he was dragged in his own blood to -the rocks upon the brow of that precipice; I thought I knew him to -be dead.” And it was not until all the circumstances of his escape -were detailed to her that she could fully credit his rescue and -preservation. Lorenzo and his trading companion, Mr. Low, were about -ten days in reaching the fort; each step and hour of that long and -dangerous journey his mind was haunted by the fear that the rescued -girl might not be his sister. But he had not been long at the fort ere -his trembling heart was made glad by the attestation of his own eyes to -the reality. He saw that it was his own sister (the same, though now -grown and much changed) who, with Mary Ann, had poured their bitter -cries upon his bewildered senses five years before, as they were -hurried away by the unheeding Apaches, leaving him for dead with the -rest of the family. - -Language was not made to give utterance to the feelings that rise, -and swell, and throb through the human bosom upon such a meeting as -this. For five years they had not looked in each other’s eyes; the -last image of that brother pressed upon the eye and memory of his -affectionate sister, was one that could only make any reference to it -in her mind one of painful, torturing horror. She had seen him when (as -she supposed) life had departed, dragged in the most inhuman manner -to one side; one of a whole family who had been butchered before her -eyes. The last remembrance of that sister by her brother, was of her -wailings and heart-rending sighs over the massacre of the rest of her -family, and her consignment to a barbarous captivity or torturing -death. She was grown to womanhood; she was changed, but despite the -written traces of her outdoor life and barbarous treatment left upon -her appearance and person, he could read the assuring evidences of her -family identity. They met, they wept, they embraced each other in the -tenderest manner; heart throbbed to heart, and pulse beat to pulse; but -for nearly one hour not one word could either speak! - -The past! the checkered past! with its bright and its dark, its sorrow -and its joy, rested upon that hour of speechless joy. The season of -bright childhood, their mutual toils and anxieties of nearly one year, -while traveling over that gloomy way; that horrid night of massacre, -with its wailing and praying, mingled with fiendish whooping and -yelling, remembered in connection with its rude separation; the five -years of tears, loneliness, and captivity among savages, through which -she had grown up to womanhood; the same period of his captivity to the -dominion of a harassing anxiety and solicitude, through which he had -grown up to manhood, all pressed upon the time of that meeting, to -choke utterance, and stir the soul with emotions that could only pour -themselves out in tears and sighs. - -A large company of Americans, Indians, and Mexicans, were present and -witnessed the meeting of Lorenzo and his sister. Some of them are now -in the city of San Francisco, to testify that not an unmoved heart nor -a dry eye witnessed it. Even the rude and untutored Indian, raised his -brawny hand to wipe away the unbidden tear that stole upon his cheek -as he stood speechless and wonder-struck! When the feelings became -controllable, and words came to their relief, they dwelt and discoursed -for hours upon the gloomy and pain-written past. In a few days they -were safe at the Monté, and were there met by a cousin from Rogue River -Valley, Oregon, who had heard of the rescue of Olive, and had come to -take her to his own home. - -At the Monté they were visited during a stay of two weeks, in waiting -for the steamer, by large numbers of people, who bestowed upon the -rescued captive all possible manifestations of interest in her welfare, -and hearty rejoicing at her escape from the night of prison-life and -suffering so long endured. - -She was taken to Jackson County, Oregon, where she has been since, and -is still residing there. - - * * * * * - -* Since writing the above Miss Oatman, with her brother, have spent -about six months at school in Santa Clara Valley, California. On the -fifth day of March, 1858, they left San Francisco, in company with the -writer and his family, on the steamship Golden Age, for New-York, where -they arrived on the 26th of the same month. - -[Illustration: LORENZO OATMAN.] - - - - -CONCLUSION. - - -How strange the life of these savages. Of their past history how little -is known; and there is an utter destitution of any reliable data upon -which to conjecture even concerning it. By some they are considered -the descendants of a people who were refined and enlightened. That a -period of civilization, and of some progress in the arts, preceded the -discovery of this continent by Columbus, there can be but little doubt. -The evidences of this are to be seen in the relics of buried cities and -towns, that have been found deep under ground in numerous places. - -But whether the people of whom we have these traces extended to the -Pacific slope, and to the southwest, we know not. This much we do know: -there are large tracts of country now occupied by large and numerous -tribes of the red race, living in all the filth and degradation of -an unmitigated heathenism, and without any settled system of laws or -social regulations. - -If they have any system of government, it is that of an absolute -monarchy. The chief of each tribe is the sole head and sovereign in all -matters that affect the wellbeing of the same, even to the life and -death of its members. - -They are human, but live like brutes. They seem totally destitute of -all those noble and generous traits of life which distinguish and -honor civilized people. In indolence and supineness they seem content -to pass their days, without ambition, save of war and conquest; they -live the mere creatures of passion, blind and callous to all those -ennobling aims and purposes that are the true and pleasing inspiration -of rational existence. In their social state, the more they are studied -the more do they become an object of disgust and loathing. - -They manifest but little affection for one another, only when death -has separated them, and then they show the deep inhumanity and abject -heathenism to which they have sunk by the horrid rites that prevail in -the disposing of their infirm kindred and their dead. They burn the one -and the other with equal impunity and satisfaction. - -The marriage relation among them is not honored, scarcely observed. The -least affront justifies the husband in casting off his chosen wife, and -even in taking her life. Rapine and lust prey upon them at home; and -war is fast wasting them abroad. They regard the whites as enemies from -all antiquity, and any real injury they can do them is considered a -virtue, while the taking of their lives (especially of males) is an act -which is sure to crown the name of the perpetrator with eternal honors. - -With all their boasting and professed contempt for the whites, and with -all their bright traditions and prophecies, according to which their -day of triumph and power is near at hand, yet they are not without -premonitions of a sad and fatal destiny. They are generally dejected -and cast down; the tone of their every-day life, as well as sometimes -actual sayings, indicating a pressing fear and harassing foreboding. - -Some of the females would, after hours of conversation with Olive, upon -the character, customs, and prosperity of the whites, plainly, but with -injunctions of secrecy, tell her that they lived in constant fear; and -it was not unfrequent that some disaffected member of the tribe would -threaten to leave his mountain home and go to live with the whites. It -is not to be understood that this was the prevailing state of feeling -among them. - -Most of them are sunk in an ignorance that forbids any aspiration or -ambition to reach or fire their natures; an ignorance that knows no -higher mode of life than theirs, and that looks with jealousy upon -every nation and people, save the burrowing tribes that skulk and crawl -among these mountains and ravines. - -But fate seems descending upon them, if not in “sudden,” yet in -certain night. They are waning. Remnants of them will no doubt long -survive; but the masses of them seem fated to a speedy decay. Since -this narrative was first written, a very severe battle, lasting several -weeks, has taken place between the allied Mohaves and Yumas on the -one side, and the Cochopas on the other. The former lost over three -hundred warriors; the latter but few, less than threescore. Among the -slain was the noble Francisco. It is rumored at Fort Yuma, that during -the engagement the allied tribes were informed by their oracles that -their ill-success was owing to Francisco; that he must be slain for his -friendship to the whites; then victory would crown their struggles; and -that, in obedience to this superstition, he was slain by the hands of -his own tribe. - -Had Olive been among them during this unsuccessful war, her life would -have been offered up on the return of the defeated warriors; and no -doubt there were then many among them who attributed their defeat to -the conciliation on their part by which she was surrendered to her own -people. Such is the Indian of the South and Southwest. - -We have tried to give the reader a correct, though brief history of -the singular and strange fate of that unfortunate family. If there is -one who shall be disposed to regard the reality as overdrawn, we have -only to say that every fact has been dictated by word of mouth from the -surviving members of that once happy family, who have, by a mysterious -Providence, after suffering a prolonged and unrelieved woe of five -years, been rescued and again restored to the blessings of a civilized -and sympathizing society. - -Most of the preceding pages have been written in the first person. This -method was adopted for the sake of brevity, as also to give, as near as -language may do it, a faithful record of the _feelings_ and _spirit_ -with which the distresses and cruel treatment of the few years over -which these pages run, was met, braved, endured, and triumphed over. -The record of the five years of captivity entered upon by a timid, -inexperienced girl of fourteen years, and during which, associated -with naught but savage life, she grew up to womanhood, presents one of -heroism, self-possession, and patience, that might do honor to one of -maturity and years. Much of that dreadful period is unwritten, and will -remain forever unwritten. - -We have confidence that every reader will share with us the feelings -of gratitude to Almighty God for the blessings of civilization, and a -superior social life, with which we cease to pen this record of the -degradation, the barbarity, the superstition, the squalidness, that -curse the uncounted thousands who people the caverns and wilds that -divide the Eastern from the Western inheritance of our mother republic. - -But the unpierced heathenism that thus stretches its wing of night -upon these swarming mountains and vales, is not long to have a dominion -so wild, nor possess victims so numerous. Its territory is already -begirt with the light of a higher life; and now the foot-fall of the -pioneering, brave Anglo-Saxon is heard upon the heel of the savage, and -breaks the silence along his winding trail. Already the song and shout -of civilization wakes echoes long and prophetic upon those mountain -rocks, that have for centuries hemmed in an unvisited savageness. - -Until his death Francisco, by whose vigilance the place of Olive’s -captivity and suffering was ascertained, and who dared to bargain for -her release and restoration ere he had changed a word with her captors -about it, was hunted by his own and other tribes for guiding the white -man to the hiding-places of those whose ignorance will not suffer -them to let go their filth and superstition, and who regard the whole -transaction as the opening of the door to the greedy, aggressive, white -race. The cry of gold, like that which formed and matured a state upon -this far-off coast in a few years, is heard along ravines that have -been so long exclusively theirs, and companies of gold hunters, led on -by faint but unerring “prospects,” are confidently seeking rich leads -of the precious ore near their long isolated wigwams. - -The march of American civilization, if unhampered by the weakness -and corruption of its own happy subjects, will yet, and soon, break -upon the barbarity of these numerous tribes, and either elevate them -to the unappreciated blessings of a superior state, or wipe them into -oblivion, and give their long-undeveloped territory to another. - -Perhaps when the intricate and complicated events that mark and pave -the way to this state of things, shall be pondered by the curious -and retrospective eye of those who shall rejoice in its possession, -these comparatively insignificant ones spread out for the reader -upon these pages, will be found to form a part. May Heaven guide the -anxious-freighted future to the greatest good of the abject heathen, -and save those into whose hands are committed such openings and -privileges for beneficent doing, from the perversion of their blessings -and mission. - -“Honor to whom honor is due.” With all the degradation in which these -untamed hordes are steeped, there are--strange as it may seem--some -traits and phases in their conduct which, on comparison with those -of some who call themselves civilized, ought to crimson their cheeks -with a blush. While feuds have been kindled, and lives have been -lost--innocent lives--by the intrusion of the white man upon the -domestic relations of Indian families; while decency and chastity have -been outraged, and the Indian female, in some instances, stolen from -her spouse and husband that she really loved; let it be written, -written if possible so as to be read when an inscrutable but unerring -Providence shall exact “to the uttermost farthing” for every deed of -cruelty and lust perpetrated by a superior race upon an inferior one; -_written_ to stand out before those whose duty and position it shall -be, within a few years, in the American Council of State, to deliberate -and legislate upon the best method to dispose of these fast waning -tribes; that _one of our own race, in tender years, committed wholly to -their power, passed a five-years’ captivity among these savages without -falling under those baser propensities which rave, and rage, and -consume, with the fury and fatality of a pestilence, among themselves_. - -It is true that their uncultivated and untempered traditional -superstitions allow them to mark in the white man an enemy that has -preyed upon their rights from antiquity, and to exact of him, when -thrown into their power, cruelties that kindle just horror in the -breast of the refined and the civilized. It is true that the more -intelligent, and the large majority, deplore the poor representation -of our people that has been given to these wild men by certain “lewd -fellows of the baser sort,” who are undistinguished by them from -our race as a whole. But they are set down to our account in a more -infallible record than any of mere human writ; and delicate and -terrible is the responsibility with which they have clothed the action -of the American race amid the startling and important exigences that -must roll upon its pathway for the next few years. - -Who that looks at the superstition, the mangled, fragmentary, and -distorted traditions that form the only tribunal of appeal for the -little _wreck of moral sense_ they have left them--superstitions that -hold them as with the grasp of omnipotence; who that looks upon the -self-consuming workings of the corruptions that breed in the hotbed of -ignorance, can be so hardened that his heart has no _sigh to heave, no -groan to utter_ over a social, moral, and political desolation that -ought to appeal to our commiseration rather than put a torch to our -slumbering vengeance. - -It is true that this coast and the Eastern states have now their scores -of lonely wanderers, mournful and sorrow-stricken mourners, over whose -sky has been cast a mantle of gloom that will stretch to their tombs -for the loss of those of their kindred who sleep in the dust, or bleach -upon the sand-plots trodden by these roaming heathen; kindred who have -in their innocence fallen by cruelty. But there is a voice coming up -from these scattered, unmonumented resting-places of their dead; and -it pleads, pleads with the potency and unerringness of those pleadings -from “_under the ground_” of ancient date, and of the fact and effect -of which we have a guiding record. - -Who that casts his eye over the vast territory that lies between the -Columbia River and Acapulco, with the Rocky Range for its eastern -bulwark, a territory abounding with rich verdure-clad vales and -pasturage hill-sides, and looks to the time, not distant, when over -it all shall be spread the wing of the eagle, when the music of -civilization, of the arts, of the sciences, of the mechanism, of the -religion of our favored race, shall roll along its winding rivers and -over its beautiful slopes, but has one prayer to offer to the God of -his fathers, that the same wisdom craved and received by them to plant -his civil light-house on a wilderness shore, may still guide us on to a -glorious, a happy, and a useful destiny. - - * * * * * - -The following lines were written by some person, unknown to the author, -residing in Marysville, California. They were first published in a -daily paper, soon after the first edition was issued. They are here -inserted as expressing, not what _one_ merely, but what _many_ felt -who read this narrative in that state, and who have become personally -acquainted with Miss Oatman. Many have been the assurances of sympathy -and affection that, by letter and in person, have been in kindred and -equally fervent strains poured upon the ear and heart of the once -suffering subject of this narrative. - - -STANZAS TO OLIVE OATMAN. - - Fair Olive! thy historian’s pen declines - Portraying what thy feelings once have been, - Because the language of the world confines - Expression, giving only half we mean; - No reaching from what we have felt or seen: - And it is well. How useless ’tis to gild - Refined gold, or paint the lily’s sheen! - But we can weep when all the heart is fill’d - And feel in thought, beyond where pen or words are skill’d. - - In moonlight we can fancy that one grave, - Resting amid the mountains bleak and bare, - Although no willow’s swinging pendants wave - Above the little captive sleeping there, - With thee beside her wrapp’d in voiceless prayer; - We guess thy anguish, feel thy heart’s deep woe, - And list for moans upon the midnight air, - As tears of sympathy in silence flow - For her whose unmark’d head is lying calm and low. - - For in the bosom of the wilderness - Imagination paints a fearful wild - With two young children bow’d in deep distress, - A simple maiden and a little child, - Begirt with savages in circles fill’d, - Who round them shout in triumph o’er the deed - That laid their kindred on the desert piled - An undistinguished mass, in death to bleed, - And left them without hope in their despairing need. - - In captive chains whole races have been led, - But never yet upon one heart did fall - Misfortune’s hand so heavy. Thy young head - Has born a nation’s griefs, its woes, and all - The serried sorrows which earth’s histories call - The hand of God. Then, Olive, bend thy knee, - Morning and night, until the funeral pall - Hides thy fair face to Him who watches thee, - Whose power once made thee bond, whose power once set thee free. - - MONTBAR. - -MARYSVILLE, _April 27, 1857_. - - -THE END. - - - - -NOTICES OF THE PRESS. - -[The following notices of this work are selected from among a large -number, all of which speak in commendation of it as a tale of thrilling -interest.] - - -AN INTERESTING BOOK.--Our friend, Mr. L. D. Oatman, has laid upon -our table a thrilling narrative of the captivity of his sisters, and -of his own escape from the dreadful massacre of his family. The work -is compiled by the Rev. R. B. Stratton, and in forcible description, -purity of style, and deep interest, surpasses any production of -romance. It will be read with pleasure by many in our valley to whom -the interesting subjects of the narrative, Miss Olive and her brother, -are personally known.--_Table Rock Sentinel._ - - * * * * * - -CAPTIVITY OF THE OATMAN GIRLS.--“We are under obligations to Randall & -Co. for a copy of this little work by R. B. Stratton. - -“Have you read,” says a correspondent, “the deeply pathetic narrative -of the captivity of the Oatman girls, the miraculous escapes of a -little brother, and the massacre of the rest of the family? If not, do -so at once, and extend its circulation by noticing it in your paper. -The work, which is no fiction, will be profitably perused as a matter -of curiosity and information; but in opening up the closed fountains -in the hardened hearts of our callous-grown people, it is calculated -to have a most happy effect. Who, unless the last spark of generous -sentiment and tender emotion be extinct in their natures, can get -through that little book without feeling their eyes moisten and their -bosoms swell.” Randall & Co. have the work for sale; also G. & O. -Amy.--_Marysville Herald._ - - * * * * * - -MISS OLIVE OATMAN.--The interesting narrative of the captivity of -this young lady by the Apache Indians, and her long residence among -them and the Mohaves, so long looked for by the public, has made its -appearance. The book will have an extensive sale, being written in an -attractive style, and disclosing many interesting traits of character -in savage life along our southern border.--_San Jose Telegraph._ - - * * * * * - -CAPTIVITY OF THE OATMAN GIRLS--LIFE AMONG THE INDIANS.--This is the -subject of a volume of two hundred and ninety pages, recently issued -from the press of this city by Rev. R. B. Stratton, to whom the facts -were communicated by Olive and Lorenzo D. Oatman, the surviving members -of the family. The Oatman family, it will be recollected, were attacked -by the Apaches in 1850, and the two girls, Olive and Mary, were carried -into captivity. Mary died, but Olive was released about a year since. -The author claims for the work no great literary excellence, but rests -its merits solely upon the highly interesting nature of the facts -presented, and a strict adherence to truth throughout the narrative. -A solid cord of romance might be built upon it.--_Golden Era, San -Francisco._ - - * * * * * - -CAPTIVITY OF THE OATMAN GIRLS.--The above is the partial title of a -new California book just issued from the press of San Francisco. It -is a neat volume of two hundred and ninety pages, and is a graphic -description of one of the most horrid tales of massacre, captivity, and -death we have read for years. The public have been anxiously waiting -for this book since the announcement a few months since that it was -in preparation. The author, Rev. R. B. Stratton, has presented the -facts as he received them from Miss Oatman, in a clear, attractive -style. Of the particular circumstances of the fate of the Oatman family -most in this state are apprised. The book will have a wide sale. Read -it.--_Sacramento Union._ - - * * * * * - -A NEW BOOK.--We have just received the book of the “Captivity of the -Oatman Girls,” for which the people have been looking anxiously for -several weeks. It is a tale of horrors, and well told. The reader will -rise from its perusal with a feeling prompting him to seize the musket -and go at once and chastise those inhuman wretches among whom Olive -has spent five years. The American people ought to go and give them a -whipping. Read the book. Though it is one of horrors, its style and -truthfulness attract to a thorough reading.--_Democratic State Journal._ - - - - -SEVEN YEARS’ - -Street Preaching in San Francisco, - -EMBRACING - -INCIDENTS AND TRIUMPHANT DEATH SCENES. - - -TESTIMONY OF THE PRESS. - -“Among the first of our noble army of occupation in California was -the Rev. William Taylor. In labors he has been more abundant, and -as fearless as laborious. His book, as a book of mere incident and -adventure, possesses uncommon interest; but as a record of missionary -toil and success its interest is immensely increased. The sketches -of personal character and death-bed scenes are thrilling.”--_Ladies’ -Repository._ - -“The observation and experience recorded abounds with the most pleasing -interest, and the scenes are described with much graphic power and -felicity.”--_Baltimore Sun._ - -“This is a graphic description of the labors of a missionary among the -most complex, and perhaps most wicked, and at the same time excited and -active population in the world. It is a very rich book, and deserves a -large sale.”--_Zion’s Herald._ - -“As a religious history, it occupies a new department in Californian -literature; and its incidents and triumphant death scenes are of the -most interesting character.”--_The American Spectator._ - -“It is a very entertaining volume, full of adventure, grave and gay, -in the streets of a new city, and among a peculiar people.”--_New-York -Observer._ - -“This work is valuable, not merely from its very sincere and sound -religious spirit, but from the curious popular traits which it -imbodies, and the remarkable insight it affords into the striking and -highly attractive peculiarities of the Methodist denomination. We defy -any student of human nature, any man gifted with a keen appreciation of -remarkable development of character, to read this book without a keen -relish. He will find in it many singular developments of the action of -religious belief allied to manners, customs, and habits all eminently -worthy of study. The straightforward common sense of the author, allied -to his faith, has resulted in a shrewd enthusiasm, whose workings -are continually manifest, and which enforces our respect for his -earnestness and piety, as well as affording rare materials for analysis -and reflection. The _naïveté_ of the author is often pleasant enough; -in some instances we find it truly touching.”--_Philadelphia Bulletin._ - -“We like the spirit and daring of the author of this book. But few -like him live among men. With an undoubted piety, and courage like -a lion, he preached Christ at a time, in San Francisco, when Satan -reigned about as triumphant as he ever has on any other spot of the -cursed earth. The book will be read, and it will do good wherever it is -read.”--_Buffalo Chr. Advocate._ - -“This book is a real contribution to the religious history of that -country. For raciness of style it is one of the most readable books -that has fallen into our hands.”--_Pittsburgh Chr. Adv._ - -“The state of society which Mr. Taylor describes is almost anomalous, -and his pictures are boldly and clearly drawn”--_New York Evening Post._ - -Similar opinions to the foregoing have been given by the Western, -Southern, and Richmond Christian Advocates, Christian Advocate and -Journal, National Magazine, Methodist Quarterly Review, Harper’s -Magazine, and many others. - -The London Review for April, 1858, devotes nearly four pages to -“_Seven Years’ Street Preaching in San Francisco_,” from which the -following is an extract: “The appearance of Mr. Taylor’s work on street -preaching, at a time when so much attention is turned to this subject, -when parochial clergymen, and even bishops, have caught the mantle -of Whitefield and the Wesleys, is singularly opportune. And the book -itself is so thoroughly good, so deeply interesting, and so replete -with wise counsels and examples of what street preaching ought to be, -that we cannot but wish for it a wide circulation. The writer tells his -story with the simplicity and directness of a child; and the incidents -related are of a most unusual and romantic kind. Too much cannot be -said in praise of the nervous, plain, vigorous style of the author’s -preaching. For clearness, directness, and force, the specimens given in -this book have never been surpassed.”--Pp. 99, 100. - - -California Life Illustrated. - -“Mr. Taylor, as our readers may see by consulting our synopsis of the -Quarterlies, is accepted on both sides of the Atlantic, as well as on -the shores of the Pacific, as a regular ‘pioneer.’ The readers of his -former work will find the interest aroused by its pages amply sustained -in this. Its pictorial illustrations aid in bringing California before -us.”--_Methodist Quarterly Review._ - -“For stirring incidents in missionary life and labors, it is equal -to his former work, while a wider field of observation furnishes a -still more varied store of useful and curious information in regard -to California. It will well repay the reader for the time he may -spend on its bright pages. The publishers have done their part well. -The book is 12mo., in good style of binding, and printed on fair -paper.”--_Pittsburgh Advocate._ - -“It is a work of more general interest than the author’s ‘Seven Years’ -Street Preaching in San Francisco.’ It enters more largely into -domestic matters, manners, and modes of living. Life in the city, the -country, ‘the diggings,’ mining operations, the success and failures, -trials, temptations, and crimes, and all that, fill the book, and -attract the reader along its pages with an increasing interest. It is -at once instructive and entertaining.”--_Richmond Christian Advocate._ - -Rev. DR. CROOKS, of New-York, after a careful reading of California -Life Illustrated, recorded his judgment as follows: “This is not a -volume of mere statistics, but a series of pictures of the many colored -life of the Golden State. The author was for seven years engaged as -a missionary in San Francisco, and in the discharge of his duties -was brought into contact with persons of every class and shade of -character. We know of no work which gives so clear an impression of a -state of society which is already passing away, but must constitute one -of the most remarkable chapters in our nation’s history. The narrative -is life-like, and incident and sketch follow in such rapid succession, -that it is impossible for the reader to feel weary. This book, and the -author’s ‘_Young America_,’ and ‘_Seven Years’ Street Preaching in San -Francisco_,’ would make highly entertaining and instructive volumes for -Sunday-school libraries. Their graphically described scenes, and fine -moral tone, fit them admirably for the minds of youth.” - -“Full of interesting and instructive information, abounding in striking -incident, this is a book that everybody will be interested in reading. -Indeed scarcely anything can be found that will give a more picturesque -and striking view of life in California.”--_New-York Observer._ - -“Mr. Taylor has recently published a work entitled _California Life -Illustrated_, which is one of the most interesting books we ever -read--full of stirring incident. Those who wish to see California -life, without the trouble of going thither, can get a better idea, -especially of its religious aspects, from this and the former book of -Mr. Taylor on the subject, than from any other source conveniently -accessible.”--_Editor of Christian Advocate and Journal, N. Y._ - -“The influx of nations into California, in response to the startling -intelligence that its mountains were full of solid gold, opened up -a chapter in human history that had never before been witnessed. At -first it seemed as if ‘the root of all evil,’ did indeed shoot into -a baneful shade, under which none of the virtues could breathe; but -soon Christianity and Gospel missionaries begun to be seen. Among the -most active of them was William Taylor, who now, on a return to the -Atlantic States, gives to the world a description of what he saw. It is -an original, instructive book, full of facts and good food for thought, -and as such we heartily commend it.”--_Zion’s Herald._ - -“It is a series of sketches, abounding in interesting and touching -incidents of missionary life, dating with the early history of the -country, and the great gold excitement of 1849, and up, for several -years, illustrating, as with the pencil of a master in his art, the -early phases of civil and social life, as they presented themselves, -struggling for being and influence amid the conflicting elements of -gold mania, fostered by licentiousness and unchecked by the sacred -influence of religion, family, and home; containing a striking -demonstration of the refining, purifying tendencies of female -influence, rendered sanctifying, when pervaded by religion; giving such -an insight into the secret workings of the human heart and mind as will -be in vain sought for in the books called mental and moral philosophy; -withdrawing the vail which ordinarily screens the emotions of the soul, -leaving the patient student to look calmly at the very life pulsations -of humanity, and grow wise. Statistically the work is of great value -to those seeking information concerning the country, with a view to -investment or settlement.”--_Texas Advocate._ - -“The author of this volume is favorably known to many readers by his -previous work, in which he relates the experience of seven years’ -street preaching in San Francisco. He here continues the inartificial -but graphic sketches which compose the substance of this volume, and, -by his simple narratives, gives a lively illustration of the social -condition of California. During his residence in that state he was -devoted exclusively to his work as a missionary of the Methodist -Church, and, by his fearlessness, zeal, and self-denial, won the -confidence of the whole population. He was frequently thrown in contact -with gamblers, _chevaliers d’industrie_, and adventurers of every -description, but he never shrunk from the administration of faithful -rebuke, and in so doing often won the hearts of the most abandoned. -His visits to the sick in the hospitals were productive of great good. -Unwearied in his exertions, he had succeeded in establishing a system -of wholesome religious influences when the great financial crash in -San Francisco interrupted his labors, and made it expedient for him -to return to this region in order to obtain resources for future -action. His book was, accordingly, written in the interests of a good -cause, which will commend it to the friends of religious culture in -California, while its own intrinsic vivacity and naturalness will well -reward the general reader for its perusal.”--_Harper’s New Monthly -Magazine._ - - -For sale by CARLTON & PORTER, 200 Mulberry-st., N. 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Price, muslin, 45 cents. - - - - - * * * * * - - -Transcriber’s Note - -Minor punctuation errors (i.e. missing periods) have been corrected. -Variations in hyphenation (i.e. daybreak and day-break) and accented -letters (i.e. Santa Fe and Santa Fé) have been retained. - -Original spellings have been retained except for these apparent -typographical errors: - -Page 11, “avowel” changed to “avowal.” (a construing of the frank -avowal) - -Page 21, “Allottment” changed to “Allotment.” (Their checkered -Allotment up to the Time) - -Page 54, “Tracts” changed to “Tracks.” (Tracks of a large number of -Indians) - -Page 66, “chapparel” changed to “chaparral.” (wide sage-fields and -chaparral) - -Page 81, “firmamet” changed to “firmament.” (they seem to lean against -the firmament) - -Page 85, “defeaning” changed to “deafening.” (a deafening yell broke -upon us) - -Page 150, “villianous” changed to “villainous.” (from their villainous -propensities) - -Page 175, “Cceareke” changed to “Ccearekae.” (Ccearekae. “We have -enough to satisfy us) - -Page 182, “tatoo” changed to “tattoo.” (they were going to tattoo our -faces) - -Page 288, “Maysville” changed to “Marysville.” (residing in Marysville, -California) - -Book-List Section: - -Page 3, “insiduous” changed to “insidious.” (youthful mind against the -insidious) - -Page 4, “dayly” changed to “daily.” (acquainted with the daily -experience) - -Page 12, “possiblity” changed to “possibility.” (possibility of giving -an outline) - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Captivity of the Oatman Girls, by Royal B. 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