CHAPTER III.

EDWARD BLAKE BEGINS TO SMELL POWDER.

At the expiration of a twelvemonth after the occurrences of the events narrated in our previous chapters, which must be considered introductory, night fell upon the skirts of a long strip of forest, as two travellers cantered up and halted upon its extreme edge. The one, in dress and appearance, was clearly a white man; the other was no less certainly an Indian. Both were clothed with extreme plainness. The aboriginal wore a red hunting shirt and leggings of mountain goat-skin, with buck mocassins, while a rifle and small axe were his only arms. The tinge of his countenance, and his peculiar features, alone gave token of his being a native of the wilds, which his accoutrements in no wise demonstrated to be the case.

The garb of the white man was similar, while his naturally fair skin, tanned by constant exposure, was not much lighter than that of his companion. In the stout bearded hunter, of marked features and sturdy frame, few would have recognised the stripling who, under the name of Edward Blake, has already been introduced to our readers. Disappointed in his expectations of a commission-the navy not being as yet formed he had started to pass the time on a long journey into the interior, during the course of which we take up our narrative.

Both seemed truly weary from the effects of their day's journey across the wilderness, and drew rein with every appearance of extreme satisfaction, such as is seldom more warmly experienced than when, after hard riding for some ten hours, one prepares to stretch the weary limbs, and, in the very changing action of walking, to find repose.

Behind them was a vast prairie-a very ocean of high grass-one of those picturesque and deep-clad rolling meadows of Upper Texas, stretching away as far as the eye could reach, and over which they had travelled since the morning. Before them lay a narrow opening in the belt of trees, a slight gap or break leading to some forest path or woodland glade. At no great distance, on their right, and somewhat in their rear, an island of timber contributed to the scenic effect of the whole.

"Well, red skin," exclaimed our hero, "I really cannot advance any further, I am dead beat, thoroughly worn out, and must rest."

"Good!" replied the Indian; "here camp."

"I am glad of it," continued Blake; "and if you would only converse a little more, friend Chinchea, we might pass another very tolerable evening in the woods.

Tobacco is plenty, venison in abundance, and I have no doubt you will find water. Three things which, however incongruous to other minds, to one who has seen the elephant of very serious moment."

The Indian did not reply, which, seeing that he scarcely comprehended what was said, was less to be wondered at, but leading the way, and entering within the arches of the forest, they soon found themselves in the centre of a green glade, surrounded on all sides by the dense mass of wood. Not more than a dozen yards across, with tall trees, pea vines and thick undergrowth compassing it about, with a huge half-burnt log as a foundation for a fire, with a very mountain of dry wood piled up in one corner (it being a favourite hunting camp of the Waccos), it wanted but the presence of a rippling stream to render it the very beau ideal of a forest encampment.

"Good camp," said the Indian, with that sententious gravity for which his race are famed, leaping from his steed at the same time, an act in which he was speedily imitated by Blake; "white man light fireIndian stake mustangs.'

"Agreed," replied the young man, speedily disburdening his wearied animal of all trappings save his lariette; and drawing forth a flint, steel, and a supply of spunk, a species of fungus which admirably serves the purpose of tinder (so provident is nature for those whose necessities call for aid), proceeded to light a fire.

It is in the wilderness, in those vast and desolate regions which seem the abiding place of divinity, that at every step one sees the mercy and goodness of Provi. dence. Each hour, some one of its goodly provisions are discovered, for the health, comfort, and subsistence of man. In towns, in congregated multitudes, we see and feel more the effect of human art and human contrivances-we fall back upon the vast body of those who surround us; but in the wilds, where man is not, and where we have leisure to contemplate the deeds of Providence, one is apt to feel how much is due to a superintending power, and how little to our own unaided intelligence.

Blake in another moment was alone in the dark solitude of that gloomy little forest cove, on the very verge of the wild Indian country, with nought to depend on for liberty or life save the sagacity and honour of his Indian guide. Such, however, is the constant position of those who venture into the interior wilds of Texas, and other parts of America; the very doubts, dangers, and difficulty, constituting a great portion of the pleasure of such journies.

Disappointed in his hopes of obtaining an immediate berth in the Texan navy,

Blake, ever venturous and fond of excitement, had started on an expedition to visit the tribe of aborigines to which his companion belonged. A year's residence in the young republic had familiarised him, as it will all, with every hardship, and with difficulty experience had ensued. To use the expressive language of the backwoods, he had seen the elephant, and no longer felt any emotion of surprise at occurrences however remarkable-a happy state of mind, which many may envy him. Indeed, though nil admirari be good philosophy, to be surprised at nothing is even more practically useful. Blake was now a tolerable backwoodsman; the more that, sanguine and enthusiastic, he entered into every fea: ture of his new life with a spirit and animation that betokened the zest with which he enjoyed it.

Anyone who had seen him in his rude leatherstocking garb, lifting the logs from their pile, bearing them to the spot selected for a camp, and placing them with artistic skill so as to form sides to the camp fire, and thus by confining the heat to make it more intense, would have scarcely supposed him fit, as he really was, both in manners and accomplishments, to adorn a drawing-room, or any other fashionable locality. Those men, however, who can accommodate themselves to every circumstance, are ever the most valuable members of the community.

The ready acuteness, the aptitude to catch the tone and manners of the position one is placed in, with the power to cast it off again, with also a willingness to bear with much that is rough, and not to find. fault with trifles, are essential requisites for your true travellers. Of these Blake

was one.

From the huge trunk of an aged sycamore near at hand, whose boughs spread in leafy grandeur far and wide, he speedily drew a handful of dry Spanish moss, which, with dead grass and leaves, formed the foundation of his fire. Twigs, thin boughs, small bits of stray sticks which cumbered the turf all around, served for the second layer, over which logs were heaped. A spark waved backwards and forwards in the air, within a handful of the first-mentioned article, soon produced a cheerful and welcome blaze. This placed below the pile, and gently fanned, speedily kindled the whole mass.

Blake was too intent upon his occupation, so necessary to the comfort of an open air encampment, to notice the return of Chinchea, who glided to his side with a number of slight poles cut from the neighbouring forest, and which he stuck in the ground all round the fire, hanging thereon, so as to screen the blaze from without, their blankets, sheepskin saddle-cloths, and every

other spare article of furniture usually serving the purpose of a bed. Above, draw. ing the tops of the supple boughs together, a narrow aperture allowed the smoke to escape.

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But, Indian," said Blake, somewhat indignantly, as soon as he discovered the intentions of his companion, " pray what am I to cover myself with this cold night? you are making pretty free with the clothes."

"Bad place," replied Chinchea; "Comanche got sharp eyes-so Blackfeetwhite man make big fire-red man hide it."

"I never knew you fail in a reason yet, Chinchea, no matter how absurd your acts," said Blake; " and as our scalps seem to be in danger, I can have no possible objection to your proceedings."

The Wacco Indian did not reply; but drawing forth several slices of venison, the whole stock of provisions they now owned, proceeded to broil them over the smoaky fire. Blake, seated on part of the log against which the fire rested, looked on admiringly. His journey had been long, and without rest or refreshment the whole of that day, which made him regard the Indian's proceedings with a complacency which would have surprised our young Englishman at no very distant period of past time. As, therefore, the viands were turned and turned, emitting savoury odour, he congratulated himself on the acquisition of an appetite which made him so little nice, and left so little desire for more luxurious food.

While, however, his eyes were thus pleasingly occupied, his active mind dwelt upon the singular features of his position.

The warm blazing fire, that crackled and rose in curling flames, emitting volumes of white smoke, cast all without into dismal shadow, save the sky, which, cloudless and spangled with myriads of stars, was a glad sight to look upon. There was no wind; all was still, silent, breathless. The very trees, usually rustling and sighing in the breeze, were motionless, their tall tops silvered by the reflexion of the fire. The distant gobbling of the wild turkey, as it flew to roost, the hooting, screeching owl, the croaking of the sand-hill crane, were the only sounds which broke the monotony of the dead night-air.

Suddenly a cry so unearthly and horrible as to make Blake start with horror to his feet, came full upon their ears. It was a long howl, a screeching, horrid sound, that made the blood curdle in the veins as it yelled and yelled in the distance.

"What infernal whoop is that? is the forest alive with devils?" cried Blake.

"White wolf," said Chinchea, calmly, turning the unbroiled side of his venison

to the fire, and examining it with an appearance of much gusto.

The restless neighing of the affrighted horses prevented the immediate reply of Edward Blake, who stood still, bewildered by the sudden nature of the surprise which he had suffered. Nothing can be conceived more wildly lugubrious, more unearthly, or more horrible, than the howl of the prairie wolf at eventide. It booms across the plains, first in a low how! how! how! and gradually rising, becomes at length fearfully horrible.

"You are right, friend Chinchea," said the young man, after a pause; "but they do howl most frightfully. If the Comanche war-whoop be more horrible than that, I am in no hurry to hear it."

Chinchea replied not, though a grim smile played round his mouth; and handing the meat to Blake to finish, took up a large pumpkin gourd, and left the circle drawn by the blankets around the fire.

During his absence, Blake, speculating on the relative horrors of an Indian warwhoop and the howling of prairie wolvesvery similar in nature to the jackal-finished the cooking of their meal, having during his wanderings become a perfect wild Soyer.

Chinchea returned in less time than Blake had expected, but he brought no water; and as he glided noiselessly and cautiously within the shelter which they had erected, laid his finger in a warning manner upon his lips. Blake instantly knew that something was in the forest of more than common interest, to disturb thus the calm serenity of the Indian.

"Come," said Chinchea, pointing to his arms; "bad man in forest, close by."

With these words he beckoned Blake to follow him, and silently led the way to the wood pile, whence he, and in imitation of him our hero, took an armful of heavy logs and bushes, which they hastened to heap upon the fire, in such a manner as for the time completely to deaden its brightness. Over this they cast leaves and earth, which done, loading themselves with every article of their baggage, not forgetting the venison, they crept with noiseless footsteps towards the horses. Not a word passed; the white man knew too well the exigencies of the case to waste time in idle questions.

Breathless with excitement, his blood tingling with delight at the novelty of danger, Blake followed the movement of the Indian with his eyes, rapidly imitating him in his every act; Chinchea, as soon as they had laden their horses, again dived within the forest, passing the fire, and entering on what, to the young man's surprise, presented all the features of a beaten bridlepath. Neither mounted; but, with their

hands grasping their rifles, led their horses by the extremity of the lariette. The growth of the boughs overhead at once explained to Blake the reason of Chinchea's not having attempted mounting.

"Look!" said the Indian, in a breathless whisper, as, after ascending the side of a somewhat steep acclivity, they suddenly halted. As he spoke these words, Chinchea caught the young Englishman's arm in his grasp, and holding it with great firmness, pointed through the trees. Blake followed the direction of his hand with his eye, and at once understood the reason of their change of camp.

A small fire in the depth of a hollow revealed a party of no less than thirty men, some Indians, some whites, sleeping or watching. In every variety of costume, scarcely any two Indians were of the same tribe. While some were rolled in blankets, others less fortunate lay on the bare ground uncovered; a few stood leaning against the trunks of trees, while one who, by his costume, somewhat more military than that of any of the others, appeared the chief, was supporting himself with his arms crossed on the muzzle of his rifle. The lucid glare of the fire in that dark and gloomy dell, fell upon the bronzed countenances of the men with singular effect. It was a scene worthy of Salvator Rosa, which the wild costume of the prairie robbers, the piles of arms, and their variety, in no slight degree tended to heighten.

Their position was well chosen. In the very bottom of a hollow, surrounded by tall trees, their small fire was but little likely to be observed.

The presence of white men, the variety of tribes visible in the Indians, were indications which left no doubt of their identity; it was, therefore, with little surprise that Blake heard from Chinchea that they were a dreaded gang, commanded by a white man, who roamed about Texas, pillaging, and enacting scenes more bloody, ruthless, and horrible, than any of which the Indians were ever guilty. Indeed, bloody and ruthless as the red skins, writhing under consciousness of oppression and wrong, have become, they are infinitely surpassed in cruelty by the desperate gangs of whites who, under the name of " Regulators," haunted the borders of Texas.

"Blackhawk," said Chinchea, gravely pointing to the figure we have mentioned as leaning on the muzzle of his gun.

Blake made no reply, save by a slight nod; he was busily engaged in scanning the features of this very man. They were fa miliar to him, or, at all events, lived in his remembrance; that he had seen him before he felt certain, but at so distant a period it seemed to have been, as to leave the im pression of its having occurred previous to

his departure from England. Events, however, had crowded upon him so thick and fast during the last twelve months of his life, as to leave but a feeble recollection of his earlier existence,

"Hist!" whispered Chinchea, drawing the attention of Blake to other matters.

At the moment that the Wacco spoke, the blaze of the fire they had left burst forth at the termination of a low and dark vista of the forest, discovering itself, however, not to them alone. It was no faint mass of flames-they rose manfully and merrily, the more from having been previously pent up.

"A camp!" cried one, who stood on the outskirts of the party overlooked by Edward and his Indian guide.

"I see," exclaimed the chief, raising his head calmly, and then gloomily relapsing as soon as he had spoken, into his thoughtful mood; "slip through the trees, and bring word who and what they are."

"It is time to be moving," whispered Blake, his blood leaping and coursing through his veins with the utmost rapidity, turning towards the place where the Indian had stood, but which was now occupied by his horse only. In the close observation of the movements of the knot below, Edward had not noticed his departure.

Blake, however, was surprised, but not alarmed or distrustful of his guide; and satisfied that his absence was connected with some matter necessary to their safety, turned his eyes again upon those who had caused so serious a change in their move

ments.

For some brief space of time, no alteration was manifest in the disposition of the extraordinary gang-their camp remained in its pristine quiet-those who slept were still recumbent, those who had been standing were yet in the same position. Suddenly a rush, a sound like the heavy but disorderly charge of cavalry, was heard, and every man started to his feet. The tramp was at that moment plainly upon the eastern side of their camp.

"The horses are loose!" cried the chief, with a fearful imprecation.

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Indians!" exclaimed another. "A stampede!" put in a third.

A rush then took place towards the coral which contained the horses, some few remaining on the outskirts of the camp, taking good care, however, to keep at some distance from the fire, which might have too conspicuously betrayed them to the mark of the enemy, whom they supposed had surprised their secret place, and whom they knew, if in force, could be no other than the bold, daring, and warlike Comanches, that picturesque tribe of warriors who wander, like the Arabs of the desert, in search of plunder and spoil.

In a few minutes after carrying out this daring manoeuvre, Chinchea returned, and taking the halter of his steed in hand, fell into a cautious trot, in which he was imitated by Blake, who had the good sense in all similar contingencies to be guided by one whom he knew to be more experienced than himself. In about ten minutes they once more emerged upon the prairie.

"Well, Chinchea," said Edward Blake, mounting his wearied steed, "you have, it is plain, stampeded these rascals' nags, and how much further do you intend going?"

A

The moon had risen now for some time, its pure effulgence illumining the whole landscape which lay before them. prairie stretched out for some distance, and then again the forest was plainly visible. To this the Indian pointed. Camp in wood," said he, "Blackhawk no follow-too busy find horses."

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"The sooner the better," exclaimed Blake," for that disappointment about the venison was a serious thing to a hungry man. Proceed-I follow."

The night was now lovely in the extreme. They were advancing over an interior prairie of some extent, entirely surrounded by the forest, and covered by a low grass, the result of a burn, which materially assisted the rapidity of their movements. Here and there certain bushes, in knots and clumps, rose in their way, and hence as they rode up, startled deer flew from their lairs, and hastened to find another shelter for the night. The air was cool and chilly, a slight wind having risen which blew keenly in their faces. Edward Blake listened with intense anxiety for the sound of pursuit, and watched with scarcely less eagerness for the shortening of the distance, which was to be the termination of their journey.

At length the skirts of the much sought wood were reached, and pushing away through the bushes and trees for some two hundred yards, another open space presented itself, and before the two men, at the distance of about a quarter of a mile, rose the clear outline of a hill stretching to the right and to the left as far as the eye could reach, rising gradually in height both on its right and left wings. A small spur appeared to advance towards them, jutting out like some buttress from a huge wall, and reaching in its gradual slope to the very spot occupied by the travellers. Jagged, with here a gap, there a pointed summit, with groves of trees dotting its sides, and afar off the sound of water rushing and falling, this line of hill was a novelty in Texan scenic features.

Edward Blake felt surprised, and his astonishment was in no degree lessened when, advancing up this acclivity, the Indian guided him towards the very summit of the

height. He followed, however, in silence, until at length Chinchea halted on the verge of a deep chasm, of, however, very moderate width, not perhaps more than eight or nine feet; of its depth it was impossible to judge by the deceitful glimmer of the moon.

The wind swept by cold and chilling at that height above the plain, growling and moaning as it flew to bury itself in the deep gloom of the forest; and Edward was about to ask an explanation of his guide's choosing this inclement spot for a camp, when the voice of the Indian made itself heard, in a series of cries, or rather howls, of a most peculiar and startling description.

"Why, Chinchea

The young man's speech was cut short by an event which added not a little to his astonishment. Chinchea's cries at first brought no answer, but after a few mo

ments were successful.

"Who calls at this hour?" exclaimed a voice on the other side of the chasm, in good and plain English, spoken with a purity which surprised the young sailor. "Chinchea," replied the Indian, "and Blackhawk in the woods."

"Heaven defend you then," replied the voice; "I will lower the bridge, and then pass you quickly."

A creaking noise like the turning of a wheel followed, and a huge black mass that had before all the appearance of a portion of the face of the rock, came slowly down, and in a few moments offered a passage to the fugitives.

Edward Blake, between astonishment and weariness, was totally unable to speak; and following Chinchea across the drawbridge which had so unexpectedly presented itself, and passing, in imitation of his guide, two figures whom he met, quite silently, was in a few minutes dazzled and confounded before a huge blazing fire.

The log-house into which they had entered was of tolerably large dimensions, and composed apparently of one room.

To the right of the door was the fireplace, a deep hollow, piled up with heavy hissing logs of wood, which emitted a heat most welcome to the wearied Englishman, creating a grateful glow in most pleasant contrast to the cold he had so recently experienced, while the fragrant odour of the wood was most agreeable to the senses. In front, occupying a large portion of one side of the room, was what in familiar parlance would be called a dresser, garnished with a goodly array of pewter dishes and plates, horn mugs, gourd bowls, common crockery ware coffee cups, surmounted by a row of saucepans. To the left swung a grass hammock, beneath which was a rude bedstead-that is, a layer of shingle nailed

over certain solid supporters, and covered by various articles of bedding. Near this were several barrels, which were not for one instant to be mistaken for anything but flour, while sacks of Indian corn were no less clearly apparent to the eye. Near the fire-place hung several sides of bacon, while a kind of cupboard near at hand appeared-at all events to the senses of a hungry man-to be no less abundantly furnished.

Chinchea had led away the horses, and ushered Edward Blake alone into this welcome shelter.

"Hush!" said the Indian, gliding in next moment loaded with the bedding, "master house-good man-but no talk of great country over water-bad done him there he never forgive."

Chinchea then slipped away, without giving time for any questions, leaving our young adventurer still more puzzled than

ever.

"My position is certainly a very odd one," thought he; but the buoyant nature of youth came next moment to his rescue; "I have, however, a warm fire, a roof over my head, a supper in prospect; let chance provide the rest."

Two individuals at this moment entered the room, whom we must pause to describe, though Blake did not discover all the minute features we have recorded until the morrow.

The one of middle height, stout, and of singularly muscular frame, at once attracted our hero's attention. He was a man of about forty-five years of age, in the full enjoyment of the muscular vigour which was incident to his time of life. His face was thin and long, not even the intervention of a moustache serving to break the very glaring character of this defect. His eyes were small, grey, and suspicious in their glances; his nose slightly aquiline, his mouth wearing, on almost all occasions, a bitter and saturnine expression; while the chin, somewhat full and round, gave a look of sensuality to a countenance which, in its main characteristics, was intellectual. His forehead was the most remarkable feature about him, being so high as fairly to occupy much more than a third of the whole length of his face. This gave him an imposing and majestic air, despite the rudeness of his garments. His hair was thin and grey, a circumstance which Edward Blake noted with much curiosity.

A green hunting frock of coarse materials, a common cotton handkerchief round the throat, pantaloons of deer-skin, with mocassins, and a wampam belt, were his attire. A brace of huge pistols, a short cutlass, and a heavy double-barrelled rifle,

were his visible arms.

Behind this remarkable figure, and reach