rn He SOB CABIN. Bg Srant 1. Sbumwag. % losm oE IiYg farts. II. A DfiSfiJ^SfiD HQS. III. G5^AZY WOMAN GANyon. lY. WHiSfi HAIJ^ AND Dfifil^fOOS. Y. SHfi MOanSAiN IsASS. Advocate, ashfobd, Nebraska. .,\^. - fb2^ St^is tl2rllli7g tale relates tl^c lot Of four, bv| fortarje cursed a'p^ blessed, Yi^o ^Welt In a scGjuestere^ spot jA-npotpg tr^e iipoa-^ liaii^s iip tlpe West, tsaclp pa»'t alof^e, coijtaiips a stoi-v], Clfp^i^oWrp to fanpe, obscure fronp ^ior\^. Copyiiul!'. A. T). IShP. by (Jiant L. Shuiuway, THE PRAIRIE ROSE. Hark! What sound is that which breaks Upon the stillness of the morn; The mountain's echo startling wakes, Re-echoing to the hunter's horn. From 'mong the timber, sprang the deer And bounds along the mountain sides, Then stops, the sound once more to hear, To tell from whence it came, he tries. Cautiously up the hill advances, Its ken among the tall straight pines; Then down the narrow glen it glances. With dense brush, filled, and wild grape vines. With ears acute and head erect. It watches both the hills and dale, As if a hunter to expect: Nor did its expectations fail. A sharp sound on the clear air rang. Close by its head a bullet sang. This told the hunters hiding place Was 'neath the shelter of a crag; So down the canyon bounds the stag; While gay pursuers, swiftly chase. Over the frosty, crystal snow. O'er rocky chasms, rough and deep. Around the bend a mile below THE SOD CABIN. It went with easy swinging leap. At a clear spring, it stojjped and (piaffed A hasty but refreshing draught. When from the water it had drank Enough, it bounded up the bank And turned broadside, stood looking back Upon its hasty beaten track. Until upon a tiery steed, Which by two deep-mouthed hounds, is led. The hunter round the curve, with speed Came; and upon its trail, he s|)ed. Another sharj) vibrating blast Resounds: and down the canyon grand He saw another hunting band, AVnich that way came and riding fast. It waits no more nor stands in view But tied, while huntsmen swift pursue. Now striving to escape from sight By veering to the left or right. And many a chasm does imi)ede Its progress, lessening its sjieed. And many a boulder in its way Compelled its ra})icl course to sway. Each bound, the cold incentive feels The hunters were upon its heels. The dismal blool-hounds chorus rings And startles precipice and rocks. Each long drawn liowl, seemed lending Avings, Each bay the -ht to And. Could this lii>ht steppinened wide. He saw within, an aged seei", A gentle dame, a kindly siiw All sittin;>bv a cozv fire. THE PRAIRIE ROSE. The lady he had seen before Was standing hokling wide the door. Not long upon the porch he staid Bnt made obeisance to the maid, Then bent to pass within the door Upon a soft and tnfted floor. A car])et of deer skins was made And on tlie earthen floor was laid, While skins of wild beasts, tanned and dried, Hung on the walls on every side, And knives and guns all hung in place, Which told their life was of the chase. He sat before the glowing fire Conversing with the seer and sire; The dame alid maiden, here and there Flitted, a breakfast to prepare. While he to them related o'er Experience of the day before. He told of his long weary ride Of loosing deer at eventide, His dream upon his stony bed His pony gone, his hounds were dead. Without a steed, without a hound The trail he took, the prairie o'er, I Until the maiden's track he found And followed to the cabin door. The old man cast a piercing glance First at the youth then at the maid, Then said, — "My lady now perchance You'll look more careful when 3'ou're bade. ; I told you when I woke this morn, j That if you would go to the lakes ! You'd find a man sad and forlorn, THE SOD CABIN. And girl, I never make mistakes. Yon went, looked carelessly, came back, The yonng man happened on yonr track. Will told how once where fortune smiled On him and 'round him fashion gay He dwelt, but now was far away. Had left all, for adventure wild; The lively hunt, the joy it gives. And yet the tirst deer he crossed Had led him on 'till he was lost. Still in his heart the ])leasure lives. Then spake the seer: "If 'tis for game You have beyond the border come. Rest now with us, you'll find the same; You're welcome in our humbhe home. Unless there's some unsevered tie Binds to the friends which you have left." Will thus replied him: "None will sigh. Xor by my action will be mifPed. They said I was a tenderfoot l^ecause I knew not how to shoot. Tney shot my bootheels while I danced For them their merriment enhanced; I'm glad to bid their camp adieu, I'm glad I'm welcome here with you. This fair young maid with flashing ken. With cheek where health so ruddy glows Shall make of me a border man, — And she shall be my Prairie Rose." "Well, well," the aged seer replied. The maid shall surely be your bride. "But cautious be for there is one Who soon will be here, you must shun. THE PRAIRIE ROSE. He'll hate thee at his earliest sight, Will challenge thee urge thee to fight: Refuse or he will kill the lad. , „ „,i -,, Remember now what I have said, <; Do nothing to jirovoke his wrath, Endeavor to keep from his path, „ Evade his footsteps everywhere; If for a while he hovers near f ,.;. , Just leave him undisputed here; ,,.„ Evacuate the canyon fair. i.. , , And when you do evacuate ,„ . ,, On leaving, you must separate, ,,,j. Go by a various path. , ,^ .: ^.^ Do not, I pray, lament on leaving here Though memory ch-errishes this S2)0t. You'll meet again so have no fear. ^,, For sorrow in this vale must come, ., ,, , Destroying happiness and home. ■, ,,.,,,;,: A gloomy curtain over all ,„ . *'' Like sabled night shall fall." He slopped he gasped fell frorn his chair- A quivering trunk, lay trembling tji^re; The household gathered at his side, While stuggling violently, he died. He never lived to tell the tale Of severing hearts and sorrow deep;,. ^-,^ .-f^ , A gloomy shadow o'er the vale Ay. .,,^, . /, ,p " Fell and those left were left to wi^^p. They made for him no narrow grave; A natural se[)u!cher was found^j^ ^|h His form was laid witliin a cave, And stones were piled the entrance round. THE SOD CABIN. Thus his remains they laid away. Ere long the opening spring like boom Dispelled the thickening, darkening gloom And left the future bright as day. Again there came the spring-like showers, Again the various colored flowers. The sweet voiced birds, the meadow lark s Sweet lay is heard from dawn till dark. Yet, to the maid all brought the strain That back the cloud would come again. The hunter often sat and talked With her in merriment and glee; They often through the forest walked Or rested 'neath some shady tree; And with elastic step, they take Their course quite often to the lake; Behind the willow bushes stand While at their feet the foam flecked sand Shone in the sun, while splashing o'er It, ripples washed upon the shore. Out on the waving, golden tide_ The snowy swans would fearless ride Upon its surface, free and gay, The water dashing, scattering spray. When stepping from their hiding place The birds so tame they would not fly. But sail away with matchless grace While casting back a shining eye. One day he turned, while overhead A little bird, his story heard. These rapturous words. He trembling said, THE PRAIRIE ROSE. 19 That she was like the lovely bird. For she was pure and sweet and fair And with a matchless graceful air. With cheek aglow and eyes cast down She feigned surprise, but 'twas in vain. Her waist his arm encircled round. He kissed her o'er and o'er again. But shyly from his arms she drew, Her color quickly came and went; Some struggle in her soul he knew Was going on and soon would vent. A half defiant look she gave Then glanced across the glittering wave And seemed absorbed in thought; nor could He understand her attitude. That form, that face, that raven hair! It seemed none ever was so fair. What strange resemblance does she bear To one I knew long years ago. Sweet Minnie Kemp, the village belle; She disappeared, so sudden too, What came of her no one could tell. The village people lost their sense. Went wild and searched both far and near; She left a vast inheritance Which relatives bequeathed to her. I then was but a little lad, But ne'er forgot the kindness shown By this rich lady of the town To people who but little had. And I remember later came A small, dark, wiry man, Ben Lane, THE SOD CABIN. To the inheritance laid claim, Endeavored hard his case to gain But when the court's decission gave His case no standing "twas dismissed. Ben's action proved he was a knave, For through his close clenched teeth he hissed Dire vengence on the jurymen. His sullen and vindictive look As hitherward his course he took Made many think he'd come again. He never did. Still for the heir Tlie property is waiting there.. How this young maid resembles hdl-'.^';"^ '> He scrutinized her as she stood *' ^^-^ - In that deep and reflecting mood. The clouds and sunlight o'er her1br6w''*i Alternately were chasing now. "-:' What was that battle in her soul ''; ^ ' Which she was striving to control? ' ^'' Convulsively her small form shook, "^ '«'> Then came a brave and resolute look:'* ^' "Twas over now and seemed to saj/"': "" ■•I'll do the right let come what may." •Will," she began, "you know that'you "' : Once told me of your fair haired lass. What would she think [)oor girl? Alas! It you in absence })rove untrue. 'O^i Ah! This must never come to pass- — Go back to her Come "iioi t(^ me— Unless she kindly sets you free Of her free will.* ^sjr I cannot speak THE PRAIRIE ROSE. The love I have for you, but ere I'd have you her engagement break, Let base dishonor your name share, I'd suffer pain no tongue could tell, My heart with anguish overflow, My life-blood break its prison cell And make a crimson flood for you. Go back to j^our fair Isabelle, Forget the wild girl in the dell." One sad reproachful look she gave Him as she slowly turned to leave. A stinging pain shot to his heart And pierced it like a quivering dart. His countenance was flushed with shame To join dishonor with his name. "Please Lilly do not leave me so, Your virtues I more highly prize On hearing what you've said. But know. Will Curtis will not tell you lies. So when I tell you I am free. Bound by no promises or ties, Perhaps you'll kindly think of me. Here, read this note " With trembling hand, He casts a letter on the sand Before her heavy downcast eyes. She picks it up — her eyes she dries — - And reads the missive's contents through: Viola, State of March 27th, '75. Will Curtis: Sir. — I freely give You back the longed for liberty, THE SOD CABIN. Am glad to know that I am free. Our jiromises were prematm-e .\ik1 brought about by other hands. Neither are satistied I'm sure While our engagement stands. Like you. my heart for freedom yearned Until you did that freedom send. AVith this your kindness I've retui'ued. Kememl)er me Your sincere friend Belie Morton. "Will, anotiier star Shall guide my future, brighter far Than any T have ever known Save one, and that from Heaven shone. This letter has revealed to me Your noble heart, and that it's fi-ee. So if on me, unworthy me. You would its tenderness bestow, I'll gladly give my heart to thee. You'll gently care for it I know." Again he clasped her to his breast And joyous, rai)turous kisses pressed • To her sweet lips upturned to his As if to seal eternal bliss. While standing thus in close embrace. Her face upturned to meet his face. Some pjwer seemed to bear away Her mind in which bright visions i)lay. A statel}' mansion on a hill In which were dwelling her and Will. Rich paintings on the frescoed wall. Lace draj)ery and curtains fall. THE PRAIRIE ROSE. Tlie rustling silk, the marble floors, AViiile servants came at her command, Their footsteps heard on every hand Resounding through the corridors. The mist floats from before her eyes, 'Twas but a dream of 2)aradise. Their future sealed their homeward way They step with hearts so light and gay. Not long their happiness immarred Remained in sweet felicit}': t-.uon by displeasure it was scarred. And followed by deep misery. One morning to a thicket by. The maiden wandered carelessly, With easy step, exultingly Repeating some sweet melody. AVill seated was upon the grass A\'a-tching the disapj)earing lass. She passed from sight into the wood, He dro])})ed into a musing mood. \Vas only 'wakened from his dream By hearing first a startling scream. And then a stifled smothered sound Which to the rescue made him bound, Arrived there just in time to see His darling treasure borne away. Borne on but with disputed sway P^)r she was struggling to get free. He forward sprang to strike the knave AVho faced about, one look he gave At Will with that sharj), wicked ken. Will stopped; ])chold, 'twas Scarface Ben. "Ben Lane or my vision is vain." 24 THE SOD CABIN. "You're right, Will Curtis, I'm Ben Lane. Sir, I'm surprised at your appearing. But with my plans no interfering Or you'll suffer for 3'our blindness.'" One hand on his stiletto lingers. The other holds the lady's fingers "Wretch, " Will cried, "You have the kindness To release the lady's fingers; To me uniiarmed the maid deliver Or else your heart shall cease to quiver At touching of this keen-edged knife. Release her or release your life." He drew his glittering deadly blade And sprang u})on his wary foe. Who loosed his hold uj)on tlie maid. Compelled to let it go. The maiden at this liberty, Turned from the struggling men to flee. But stopped behind a friendly bush To watch the battle in the brush. While with undaunted courage still AVili l)attled with scar face's skill. But Ben evades each deadly stroke; Watching his chance gave Will a blow. He dropped knife with yearnful look And fell before his wary foe. Ben placed his foot u})ou his head. Dip])ed in the blood his stiletto. "Dead! Dead! My poor, poor Will is dead. He died for me, unworthy me. Oh! What a life I would have led If he had not thus made me free. Much rather I too should be dead THE PRAIRIE ROSE. 25 Than live in Ben's captivity. Vet, MHtli my dear Will lying dead Life has no charm for me. Off to the lake I'll hasten me Within its waves resign my breath; Its sandy bed my bed shall be; We part in life, we meet in death. But no, — that would be suicide, My life, m}^ hand shall end — no. never; Altbouu'h poor Will, for me has died, I'll live in agony forever. When her })oor parents saw her face Tear stained, and look of agony, They ask her what had taken place, She told her story brokenly. The father took his favorite gun Down from the rafters overhead. 'Tf I but see the other one He too, shall die" he said. The trio quickly wend their way. To Avhere the senseless William lay. But Scarface Ben was there no more. Dee]) in the forest he withdrew He needed allies, now he knew To bring success his steps before. Poor Lillie knelt, AVill's form beside And laid his hoad u])on her breast. To sto}) the crimson flood she tried As kisses on his brow she pressed. ]^o tears fell from her aching eyes. No sobs welled from her stricken heart. Benumbed are both. Those severed ties Pierce like a poisoned, (juivering dart. THE SOD CABIN. And there she knelt, and none can know The awful depth of tearless woe, - Save those, who sometime suffered so. "To think it was for me he died; For me, his life, he freely gives," She said, but suddenly she cried "He lives, he lives, he breathes, he lives!' The crimson blood had ceased to tlow. The sands with it were deei)ly dyed; The others Unelt his form Ijeside. Found what she said was even so. For he was faintly breathing now. His breath came slow and painfully. Faint color Hushed upon his brow. His muscles quivered constantly. He o])ened those blue, tender eyes. His vision seemed not fully clear. His friends he seemed to recognize. And faintly whis})ered, "Lillie, dear." "My darling jewel! Oh my own — " Then came a stifled, smothering moan. And in low quavering tones, he said. "Oh, take me to the cabin please." A hold upon his form they laid And bore him gently back, with ease; He muttering incoherently, AVhile Lillie soothes him tenderly. They laid him down ujion abed They dressed his wound most carefully. She took a seat close by his head To watch his breathing prayerfully. "From loss of l)lood." the old man said, "He's faint, but then this little wound THE PRAIRIE ROSE. 87 Or gash, no vital spot hath found; He's only weak from what he's bled." The work was surely deeper wrought, And Will was worse than he had thought. The maid sat by him days and days Before his conciousness returned. The raging fever fiercely burned; Naught could his sinking spirits raise. Oh! Vill he perish? No, the God, That rules the world did not intend He should thus die, but spared the rod To save him for a better end. Ere long the clutching iron hand Released its grasp upon the man. After the battle in the bush Ben refuge took, within the brush. And hidden 'neath its friendly shade Dark j)lots and vicious plans he laid. "So I have found the place at last; Now my revenge will be complete. Yes I will spoil this pleasure sweet, A shadow o'er this valley cast. That maiden, she shall be my wife. That, do I swear upon my life. She does no not love me, — I am glad, For if the little creature had Tt surely would have drove me mad To be revenged upon the sire. I hate him and I hate his wife;" He muttered to himself with ire. •'They dashed my hopes, blighted my life; That livid scar across my brow Came there, by whom, and when, and how,? THE SOD CABIN. Why. by his hand, when to the earth He crushed me in my native berth, The fortune which was mine, I tho't, He took from me by treachery, And manfully 1 'rose and fought. Was whipped, aye he has beaten me. My turn will come, just bear in mind, But tirst some friendly aid I'll find. That victim of my two edged sword. Of course will put them on their guard, I've settled him alright, I guess. I've to encounter, now. one less." He climbs the hill, the valley scans. Then left to carr}' out his plans. He muttered as aback he cast A glance: — 'My time has come at last." We left Will in the cabin home Recovering from his wound, But days and days must go and come Before his health is sound. But when he had recoveren quite He hitherward, must take his flight; For well they knew that Scarf ace Ben Some evil hour would come again. Thrice, while they dwelt in eastern climes Matters they thought to reconcile. But he accused them of great crimes And answered them in language vile. His presence now would cause them pain; Their happiness he would harass; Perhaps the ])arents would be slain. That he might get the little lass. Bear her awav in shame to die THE PRAIRIE ROSE. 29 In bis brutal captivity. Ahis! But tbey must leave tbeir borne To seek anotber far aw^ay; Once more tbe wide, wild prairies roam And leave tbe canyon, flowered gay, To seek tbe unknown west again. To find some bidden mountain glen, Toward tbe distant setting sun. And buman babitations sbun. Will was tbe first, wlio fortb must roam Perbaps, forever, tbey must j)art, But bere witbin tbis unny borne He leaves tbe sunsbine of bis beart. "Weknow tbis seems a witbering gale To bligbt tbe tender plant of love To bud no more, except above; Yet by God's guidance on Life's plain, Tbe old man said we'd meet again, Old Mascot's words will never fail. Do you remember, Lillie, dear, Tbose last words of tbe aged seer? Tbe full trutb of tbose words we'll own, But it may be in years to come, Wben we around tbe Great Wbite Tbroue, In peace, at last, are gatbered bome. I now must bid a fond adieu Maybap 'till o'er Life's sbining river. Yet my beart sball be true to 3'ou; Farewell! — I trust 'tis not forever." — Poor Lillian, tbe burning tears Swift, cbased eacb otber o'er ber brow. As tbougbts reflect on bappy years. And brigbt borne circle, broken now. 30 THESOD CABIN. The youthful fancies gnilded bright. Fair visious she had seen before. All vanished, naught remained but night, Her life a shadow passes o'er. "Lillie. weep not, be brave and bold. For ere the earlr morning sun Shall tip the mountain tops with gold Onee more. I'll be a wandering one. Yes. yes. farewell, for we must part, Although it crushes each fond heart. Upon a journey I must start. And you too. Lillian must go; Oh I when, if ever shall we meet? Oh! will it l)e on earth below Or Heaven in. where next we greet? Now we nuist liope and watch and i)ray And ever faitliful to Him be. The Savior leads us all the way. We shall meet in Eternity." "Oh I must we sever, ever here And nevc^r know those sacred ties. Which has bound us for half a year. Until we meet beyond the skies." •'That in the book of life is found If God's will leadeth us apart. May He some balm ])our in each wound, Within each pierced heart. Ha! see those gray streaks in yon sky Foretell the wakening of day; The morning breezes softly sigh, I hear tlie merry lark's sweet lay. Farewell! farewell my sweet wild flower That blossoms in this hidden glen; THE PRAIRIE ROSE. Oh! may God grant some happy horn- When we shall meet again. The light comes reeling o'er the way; Fairest of fair, divinest grace, Adieu! For I must leave this place, Farewell! — one kiss — then I'm away." He 's gone! the flowers cease to bloom And all the birds refuse to sing; The joy the morning sun doth bring- Like dew has vanished, naught but gloom Remains. Her sorrow deeper grows. Her burning tears a torrent flows. She wipes them dry and looks again Across the undulating plain, A lofty hilltop, Will has gained. To see his love, his eyes he strained, He stopped to wave a last farewell. He waves his hand, a kiss he throws Back to the cottage in the dell, Back to his Prairie Rose. And see! she stands amid the groves, Her 'kerchief waving to and fro; She throws a kiss to him she loves: He waves his long and last adieu. Oh! sad the parting of this twain, Their pure young hearts thus rent asunder. A sadder parting on the plain Has ne'er occured, God's vision under. When two young hearts together blend In tender love and unity. Oh why will He some shadow send And leave them both in misery, To leave the future black as night. 32 THE SOD CABIN. The tender conis of love to sever. The early ho[)es of youth to hliuht Forever and forever. Her light, her guiding star was gone. The light of God, —the Sun,— shone on, The gay stream chattered o'er its bed Of ])ebhles; While above her head Flit singing birds and humming bee. Yet all seemed em])t3' moekery. Her sorrow crushed her to tiie earth. Again the bitter tears were shed. She wondered why God gave her l)irth. And wished that she were dead. ' OhI why this lingering death should be. Shall I— shall I— this blade of steel — One blow my heart's blood will congeal. A glittering poniard from her breast She drew when by this impulse presso i. And raised the hand to strike the blow To make her blood a fountain tiow, But her God stayed the death -like blow. And paralyzed death's dealing hand; With hand and face like driven snow An icy statue does she stand, With thankful heart, she silent praised The guidance of the Heavenly Master, She stood, her white arm still upraised, Like monumental alabaster. With greatfulness her soul imbued. Remained she in this attitude. Impressive, silent, motionless. A moment still she linoered thus. THE PRAIRIE ROSE. m Then forward fell with one wild cry. Betokening deep agony. "Thank God! The Avild fancy is o'er! It thrills me to ray bosom's core, To think that I, — though great the pain — Would let the furies rule my brain. My father, mother love me still, And I love them as much as Will." As though with strength from Heaven sent She 'rose and to the cabin went; She cheerful, flitted to and fro. Of many cares, her mother freeing, For on the morrow, they must go, Depart without Old Scarface seeing. Ah! they should see the snow-capped heights; The Rocky peaks, and there to roam Amid those awe inspiring sights. Where old Dame Nature makes her home. Or they some mighty clifl' would gain And scan the landscape far and near, To see gamboling o'er the plain The careless antelope and deer. When noonday sun so fiercely burns, To rest beneath some jutting crag; When Even, cool and fresh returns, Again to chase the hunted stag. To lead a life that 's free from sin, From sorrow and all cares and strife; To taste the joy that 's found within The wild free air of mountain life. 'Twas night; the toils of day were done. The trio to their cots were gone; THE SOD CABIN. The sire and dame in dreams were lost And breathing heavy sound and deep. In restlessness the maiden tossed, Her nerves ilnstrung, she eould not sleep; She paced the floor, then once again Lay down with cool collected brain And slept, but 'twas a troubled sleep, To wake in fright and startled spring Out on the floor, while cold chills creep O'er her as she stood shivering. The moon high u}) the Heavenly dome. Shed her pale light around the home. A few stray mellow moon-beams bright Flooded the cabin with their light. What makes me stand here suddering so, There 's naught to happen us, I know. Xo gentle murmur of the breeze Was heard, and not a leaflet stired. Not e'en the twitter of a bird Came from their nests among the trees; But through the night, so calm and still, She heard a whistle, clear and shrill. She bolts the door with sudden move, Then springs to wake those whom she loves; But ere her mission she had done, Ere she was half across the floor; Ten brawny men burst wide the door: Old Scarface Ben had won. Her parents wakened by her shrieks And by the screaming, howling band, Start from their cots, before them stand; So frightened they — that neither speaks. THE PRAIRIE ROSE. 35 They seize the sire, his limbs they tie. Then out into the darksome night. The}' bore him from poor Lillie's sight; She tho't they took him forth to die. One Redman seized the trembling maid She shrank beneath his iron grasp; With effort strong she frees his clasp. Stands danntless, brave and undismayed. "Ha! bold Ben Lane, that vile disguise Only deceives the human eyes, None can mistake that vicious grasj) When once they've felt its wicked clasp; I thought it strange that Spotted Tail, The noble chieftian of the Sioux, Should ever in his friendship fail; But nov^ I find 'tis caused by you. " "You hold me not, nor never can, Though I'm a woman, you a man; I care not which, many or few Your numbers are, I'll never yield And subjugate myself to you, Nor bow beneath the rod you weild." "My blood a crimson fount shall be, This is the blade to set me free." And quickly from her sheath she drew A glittering dagger to their view. AVith a strange, wild and maddened shriek That made the very woodland start. She strove to pierce him to the heart And thus her vengence wreak. One blow she struck, another blow Would surely lay her victim low. THE SOD CABIN. The hand was raised, the blow it fell, It was directed sure and well; But ere it reached its destination A hand had caused its arrestation. So near to death, was Scarface pressed The da<^ger's point had touched his breast: She turned in fury on the man Who thus had staid the falling hand, And plunged the blade into his side. He staggered back, and fell and died. Another Redman siezed the maid And raised aloft his heavy blade. A fearful blow, with deadly aim Towards her raven ringlets came; But at this moment came a shrill Wild shriek that rent the very air; The creeping blood a tremor thrills. At this sharp cadence of despair. With maddened shriek and gesture Avild The mother sprang to save her child. The rapidly descending blade Struck her, and never harmed the maid. She struggled back, with feeble moan, Sank down upon her own hearthstone. The maiden was not hindered now, So to her mothers side she flew. To ])ress a kiss upon her brow. Then bounded off, the doorway through. A narrow pathway through the wood She sprang along, fast as she could; Pursuers chasing close behind, Fleet-footed as the western wind: THE PRAIRIE ROSE. She crossed the brook, she reached the lakes, Concealed her-self among the brakes. Far, far behind way down the glen She heard piiisuing, searching, men; They nearer drew. She trembling lay. With-holding e'en her very breath. Lest it her hiding 2)lace betray . And give her to her^foes and death. They pass her by while curses deep Their leader, Ben, upon them heaji: The man, who struck the blow which fell The noble woman, cursed he well. "To torture, would I gave to you The man, and gave the woman, too, Had you performed your duty well. Captured the fair maid of the dell. But now the woman yon have slain, The maid is free upon the plain. The man. with us we'll bear away. To turn him loose some future day." The voices fainter, fainter grew As farther off the rufflans drew; When all the sounds had died away The maid arose from where she lay, Xauaht but a thin night dress she wore, This stained with mud and stained Avith gore; With marble brow, and raven hair. And eyes that told of her despair. "Oh God!" she cried, "this bitter night! (^h wretched, wretched is my plight; I can but read my future doom, THE SOD CABIN. Dee])er, deeper grows the gloom. I've nothing left to live for now." Again the tears coursed o'er her brow. "Yes, I must wander on this ])lain. Upon the dreary, weary main. On such sustenance, I must live As roots and leaves and berries give; Upon this kind of nutriment, I'll try to find some settlement. 1 But if I ])erish on the way. There in the bleaching sun I'll lay. And rot; Or else will form a feast For cayotes or some hungry beast; Great God! if this should be my lot I I faint beneath the awful thought. " Her strength had fled, the mental strain A¥as too great for her tender brain, 8he forward reeled with feeble moan And sank into a death-like swoon. The sun was shining in her face When she awoke; A glance she cast, A curious glance around the j)lace; Tried to recall that which had passed. In vain, but still she knew that she Was all alone and wild and free. That she must search the plain and wood For necessary food. The dark fore])oding, which before Beset her brain had now jiassed o'er; Her firm set features pictured, now. THE PRAIRIE ROSE. Determination on her brow. She turns, bids farewell to the lakes, Bends, tak(:?s a drink, then leaves the brakes. The tender plant, the Prairie Rose, U[)on her weary journey goes. Why need we tell the suffering That she endured while wandering. All summer long she wandered wide, Upon the bleak unbroken prairies; Subsisted on roots, shrubs and berries; Of hunger, often nearly died. The Running Water and the Platte, The Laramies and Sebil were passed. She came to Horse Creek's narrow flat, The mountains were in sight at last. She wandered on for days and days Until she stood the foothills by, The Rocky Gap, a wondrous place, With stee}) bare walls, all tow'ring high. A flashing stream, a rugged trail. Passed through the dee}) and narrow vale; AVhile Willow trees and Cottonwood Along the water edges stood. Beneath the bushes, to the east AVas hidden from the maid a feast, The bushes now, before the maiden With mountain fruit, were heavy laden. When she had eaten quite enough. She kept on picking berries off And from her tattered gown, a rag- She tore and made a berry bag This full of mountain fruit she tied 40 THE SOD CABIN. And started up the mountain side. Its heiglit was reached, she turned to scan The valley fair, and saw a man Who nearer, nearer drew. The wild n'irl sought to hide from view, So she ran down the mountain side Within the Rocky Ga]) to hide. And there behind a huge Pine tree So that tlie hunter could not see Her nakedness, she w^atched while he Went riding through the narrow way. She started at what met hei" gaze. It brought back tho'ts of other days When she a hapjty blithsome maid Dwelt on Nebraska's sunny |)lain; The canyon's walls so cold and gray Along whose feet she often strayed; Alas! but memory remains. Unbidden tears bedim her eye; She started up with a wild cr^^ The man had dropped his bridle rein Dismounted, left his horse untied, The mountain summit sought to gain; Came climbing up the mountain side. The maid ran up the rocky ledge, The hunter followed 'long its edge; Below them yawned a chasm deej) With rugged walls both bare and steep; Four mighty walls were towering high. The blue sky made its canopy. If he one step should miss, or her 'Twas death within this sepiilcher; THE PRAIRIE ROSE. 41- But fearless on and up they fly. Until a cave the the maid passed by; As past the entrance, swift she sped She saw within, a j)anther's head, The wild beast sprang, from out its liar. A swift shot rang through the air, The beast rolled down the mountain side, Fell in the sepulcher and died. The now thoroughly frightened lass Climbed u]) another fearful pass. When Ben, the hunter, reached it there, To follow farther did not dare. "I sought to capture you; in vain, He cried, — "for you are free again; But I will tame you yet, my maid: Or so endeavor, 'till I'm dead. Or you my pretty one shall die." He looks up toward the azure sky; There on a rock far, far above Beheld the one for whom he strove; Yes, she was leaning o'er the edge, To watch the hunter on the ledge- He shouts but scarce the echo hears Until her fair head disappears. "She's gone; pure as the mountain snows. Free as the Western wind that blows, A wandering maid, a wandering man. The wife and mother has been slain. My vow, I'll keep it if I can, I'll see the maid again." His steps retraced, his horse beside. He mounted it, resumed his ride. 42 THE SOD CABIN. The maid to get away was bent, She noticed not which way she went. And o'er a preci})ice she fell. What seems incredible to tell. She fell so hard, she made a dint Within the rock; a perfect print Of her small foot. The truth we'll own. The rock to clay was similar; It after hardened into stone, But left distinct, the foot-print there; And to this day the track remains. If e'er yon loll in Nature's lap. You search Wyoming's mountain cliains. You'll tind it in the Rocky Gaj). But where her foot imprints the rock, She forward reeled, so great the shock, And fell again, at distance great. On pine tree boughs she made her berth, Tliey gently bend beneath her weight And drop her to the mother earth. This fall, so grim and ])erilous. Unscathed, unblemished left the miss. As swift as ever hunted deer Fled from a band of deep-mouthed hounds, The maiden o'er the pebbles bounds, Nor scarcely stoi)s to see or liear, She sped along Twin mountain base Expecting that the man would chase,. Then deep into the forest glides. Within a darkened fissure hides. And rested from the race. THE FRAIRTE ROSE. 43 She buried in her hands lier face And we})t; When life but saddess knows. What can a heart pour out in prayer: So she, to Him, her bitter woe, Poured out while hidden there. She did not raise her eyes again 'Till darkness settled on the glen. When e'er a twig would crackle near The w^aif would start and shake with fear; Whene'er would come a muffled sound She feared some-one was lurking round. "Oh God," she cried, "your wandering child Rather than to that creature yield. Would perish in this dreary wild And furnish food for beasts of field. Then her old home upon the plain C'ame tlashing through her mind again. While all its pleasures, pictured bright. Made this seem more than double night. "Poor wandering father; where is he? Poor mother; cold in death is she. Poor Will: a broken hearted man From me forevei- separate: Oil! shall we never meet again? Oh cruel, cruel, cruel fate!" Then she would say, with lifted eyes; "What are our feeble trials here But richest blessings in disguise? While over yonder all is clear; Sweet rest beyond the skies. Ah! when our trials here are o'er We'll meet on yonder hap])y shore." THE SOD CABIN. While meditating thus in peace Her heart began to be at ease; She crawled into the crevice deej) Gave up to pleasant peaceful sleep. Which was indeed a boon. Twas in the stilly hours of night When all tlie earth with mellow light Was flooded by the tender moon. Tlie maiden doth in peace awake. Looks out into the night and sees Beneath the forest, through the trees The glimmer of a crystal lake. She left the crevice in the ledge And songht the silver waters' edge She stood upon the golden sand Where land and crystal waters meet; It was so [)leasaDt thus to stand The waters i)laying at her feet. To reverie and mnsing given First of the earth and then of Heaven, In silence stood an hour or more Upon that lonely lakelet shore. The first grey streaks of coming dawn Appeared above the horison. "Oh! welcome thou returning sun, Your brightest ray shall glad me on, 'Till death, kind, w^elcome death, shall c Bear me sway to yonder home." Within a cliff close at her left Was found a rocky hidden cleft; Within its dark recesses found A roomv cavern, larue and round; THE PRAIRIE ROSE. Cpon its floor, she prone doth lay To wait the fast approaching day. Within a cave not far away A half a dozen robbers lay, One man was watching her that night As she stood in the moonbeams bright, He watched the girl. — the wretched knave- Until she passed within the cave: Then silently his plans he kept. And moved to where the robbers slept. The morning sun shone o'er the land AVhen Scarface and his wicked band Entered the cave, and gathered round The maiden; she was sleeping sound. "There never was one fair as she; But let her rest in sweet repose, Surprising will her waking be To find I ve caught the longed for rose." When she awoke, a saddened pang Shot to her heart as up she sprang, She gazed with a bewildered stare. Around at that vile grinning band. Beheld no friends on either hand But saw one fearful visage there; Vindictive, unrelenting, cold Malicious, vicious, wicked, bold; Yes, hideous; like a monster beast It gloated o'er its victory; It gazed on her, with eyes that feast. Like a wild beast upon its prey. The monster seemed to grow more tall. More broad, more hideous than before THE SOD CABIN. A misty veil floats over all. And she falls prostrate on the floor. Once more upon the rocks she lay Cnconcious of the band of men; Now muttering incoherently, Now^ strugiJ^ling much as if in ])ain. A given signal to the men They from the cavern drew away. Left her alone with Scarface Ben Who staid to watch her as she lay. When did her conciousness return Slie only woke to weep and mourn, In deepest anguish and dispair; White, silent, voiceless, sat she there. To all who think their trouble deep Are trials more than they can bear. Just think of this poor young girl's share Then o'er their sorrows cease to wee|). Ben told her not to weep and mourn. He was a friend and not a foe. A look of hate and bitter scorn She gave, which seemed to say. I know.' At this he drew him ])roudly uj). His eyes like wicked flreballs glare: "I'll make you drink this bitter cu]). You'll marry me or j)erish here. " With quickness to her feet she sprang. In clear defiance her voice rang. •You hissing snake, I'll surely die Kather than marry you," she said; "For by your hand my mother's dead. You caused me all this misery. THE PRAIRIE ROSE. Once dwelt I, in a ha])py home Within a canyon, flowered gay, But you into onr midst would come, To drive and scatter us away; When I dwelt in that happy place. A joyous blithsorae maid was I; You spoiled our happiness. Scarf ace, So e'er I'll marry you, I'll die. Yes, die, within this dreary wild, But may your life be ever cursed, You can destroy this feeble child, I'll meet my fate, let come the worst. By Heaven! 'till my limbs to stand Refuse, you shall not touch my hand." "Stand back!" in frenzy wild, she cried, "Stand back; if you know when you're safe.' To grasp her hand in vain he tried. To seize the maddened prairie waif. "You, — man, — who standi there in the door, Pray, in the name of God, defend me. Or into Eternity send me To save me from this monsters power. You, sir, look to me like a friend, And on your mercy I'll depend." "Hold Senor," quickly said the man, "An explanation, I demand. Of this affair, and where you stand Give it. and hasten if you can." Bold Scarface turned, a moment dumb Was stricken, that a man should come. With him and his plans interfere; He thought that they alone were there. 48 THE SOD CABIN. He hissed and cursed through flcnclicd teeth. Then drew a dagger from its sheath. Bounded toward him at the door As thougli to carve him limb from liml); He got a blow that staggered him And felled him senseless, to tlie tloor. Then from a rocky shelf, near by Deerfoot, a bundle to the maid. Tossed: "Quick, put on these clothes," he said. "Together from this ])lace we'll tly," She seized the bundle, it untied And found within a huntsman's dress; His object she could only gusss, But on his kindness, she relied. She saw the chance for liberty, Hastily donned the huntsman's clothes. Sprang to a steed that stood close by And ended the wild Prairie Rose. THE DESERTED HUT. 49 PAJ^S SfiGOnD. f IE BE5EETE1D HHT. It was an old log cabin, in A dark and hidden mountain dell; Within it sat a group of men On whom a gloomy silence fell. Their leader sat before the fire And gazed into its mouldering blaze; His lips would curl with bitter ire When thoughts of disappointed days Would come. He was a low browed man, With sharp black eyes and cheeks of tan; A livid scar above the eyes Of extraordinary size. His heavy jaws, th-y picture true. His bull-dog nature, through and through. Disturb him not, the others would. For he was in no pleasant mood. They sat in silence round the room, Arround them gathered, dark, the gloom 50 THE SOD CABIN. While at one corner in a heap A man was laying, breathing deep. At last he roused and sitting there, He looked with a bewildered stare At those around, and fixed his gaze Upon the leader of the men. Who sat before the flickering blaze. His wrongs before him, 'rose again; In vain he tried to I'ise. And found His hands and feet securely bound. Ben noticed him and with a curse, He turned and told him to lie still. Or he would make his fate much worse. And give him to his uien to kill. "Ben;" thus the gray haired man began; "There are some things which T must know: Sir you must answer as a man. Why am I caused this j)ain and woe? Where is my wife and daughter too? And what do you intend to do With me?" "Ha! Luther," Scarf ace said, "I'll treat you now as you deserve; I'll bind and leave you here to stai-ve, Uutil from hunger you are dead. Then I'll drag you on the [)]ain. Let buzzards fatten on your brain; Let coyotes rend 3'our limbs asunder; Or else will let you lie and rot; Then from the place, away, I'll wander, But leave your skull to mark the spot. If e're again I pass it by THE DESERTED HUT. You know, the memory will be sweet; I'll hail it with a joyful cry For my revenge will be com])lete. x\s for your wife, that Indian chief. Her pain has given sweet relief: I should have kindly saved the maid And at her feet, a treasure laid. But foolishly she from us breaks Plunged madly in the crystal lake. We dragged her from the waters cold, And hanged her to a cedar tree: ' Sir Luther sank back with a cry, As Ben smiled at the lie he told. "Well it were better thus," he said, "The three of us will soon be dead. She 's better far, hung to that tree. Than live in his brutality; So I'm resigned. On Earth's fair plain We'll never, never meet again." He sank down in in a death like swoon. But when the light of morning shone And struggled through the woods again; He woke, to find himself alone, From him, de|)arted were the men. Yet scarce awoke, until he hears A muffled sound float to his ears. What is that sound? and shall he cry? "I cannot any more than die; If wild beasts, limb from limb should tear, 'Tis better far, than starving here. I am prepared, if death is near. THE SOD CABIN. 'Twill end all earthly care." He cried aloud. The footsteps cease; Then nearer, nearer to the place Thej' drew, while at the door, a face He saw. and begged for his release. •'Did Heaven to me a rescuer send?" The man replied, "I am a friend." The knotted cords were quickly loosed From arms and ankles, swelled and bruised. "How came you here, and thus bound too? Where are you from, and who are you?'" The stranger asked, in deep concern, The cause of this outrage to learn. Luther related, to the man. The story of his greif and ])ain: From when the trouble tirst began. To their sad fate u])on the plain: The death of daughter and of wife The blasted home and ruined life. "1 am," the stranger said, "a scout And known as Deerfoot, here about; Quite well I know from whence you came. The ])lace is a resort for game; All who have been there, will agree It has a fame for scenery. I've been there, and your face I know Remember you, two years ago A nearly famished man came by? A hunter drifted to your door. Wind was blowing, snow was flying. He fell exhausted on the floor. THE DESERTED HUT. 53 Of his exanstioii nearly dying. 'Twas I, you nursed me tenderly; Forget your hospitality I surely never can. But come, Go with me to my cabin home." The scout. Deerfoot, led from the place, He following with languid pace, Mourning his loss, with sad, sad heart; Next praising his deliverance, That Deerfoot happened there by chance: The scout, some consolation gave By saying that he soon would start Upon the trail, and down the knave. '•For all such men so low and bad. The world is better with them dead. You were so very kind to me That- 1, will your avenger be; Your wife and child may not be dead. Those may be lies which he has made." "Here in my cabin make your home. In peace and comfort, pray rest you, Until again, back shall I come; But rest assured before I do. From Ben Lane's lips the truth I'll know. Or lay his wr.'tched carcass low. Provisions, you will tind enough Here in, although my board is rough. I cannot loiter with you here. For every moment now is dear; Good bye." He through the door was gone, And left the man to weep alone. THE SOD CABIN. Over his sorrows would he ponder, Endnring- grief and nntold })ain: It bears so heavy on his brain That mind and man began to wander. From the log cabin of the scont, Qnite well eqnipped he staited ont; He sought the deepest, darkest glen The most distant from any men. He little cared which way he went, Each day. it seemed more than an age, Of wandering; -his mind was bent, Upon a life of hermitage. Sometimes on wide extended plains Where sage brush grows a tsmgled net, And where it never, never rains. Tbe ground is never, never wet; A place where no live creatures dwell, Nothing to (|uench his craving thirst; • His head would throb, as though 'twould burst, His lips would crack, his tongue would swell. In vain the maii sought some retreat From the hot, burning, scorching heat. Unable, finally, to stand He'd lay with face upon the sand. When the refreshing breeze of eve. Would ])artially his jiain relieve. To struggle on, he'd rise again; And' keep on walking, t-hrough the night: The shining stars his guiding light. To leave behind the barren ])lain. Sometimes beside a stream Avould stand Within a dreamv fairv land; THE DESERTED HUT. Sometimes in the chasms, wierd and deep, Where Natnre, hidden treasures keep. Here on some mossy bank, he lay, Beside a clear and flashing stream. Gaze on the fishes at their play. Gaze on them, like one in a dream. He roused himself and seized his gun, Sprang to his feet to start once more, With, "God, oh God! Thy will be done." "This weary life will soon be o'er: And why, O why! should I thus do? O'er my sad fate, constant repining; My wife is, and my daughter too. On flowery beds of ease reclining. Why should I mourn over their fate? Weep constantly o'er scenes of gloom; They 're surely in that happy state. Where Eden's flowers forever bloom. So I'll look forward to the day W^hen I'll throw off this mortal coil. When Angels bear my soul away From earth and all its toil." ****** Upon a scra'^'iy })eak commanding. View, magnificent, enchanting, A man, a gray iiaired man was standing, Nature, was he supplicanting? Nay, not so, though once in sadness Roamed he in earth's dark recesses; With despair equal to madness. When the western breeze caresses Stricken ones, dethroned of rigor, Often, impulses awaken. THE SOD CABIN. Thrills the nerves with youthful vigor, Which for years old age had shaken. The atmosphere, so strangly drying, Even tears can't stand the pressure. Weep, there is no use of trying. Living has become a pleasure. On this rock bold and out-s])oken, With his hounds, stood Luther Stanwood. Three score years, yet looks betoken. Energy of j)rime of manhood. Hark! he hears a distant chorus, Tis the Sioux, their w^ar-whoop sw^elling: See! oh see! right here before us. Far below the Redman's dwelling. See the tepees dim and dusty. Far below, the village standing. And their shouts, bloodthirsty, lusty, Tells, on war, their way were wending. See the warriors leave their tepees. Leave their squaws and their papooses. Always anxious for the melees Which their yells ever enthuses. What has caused this scenes tumultuous? Screeching, running, yelling talking: Warriors seemingly exultious; Squaws howling, i)apooses squawking. Yonder liillside, there adorning, Li the golden light of morning; Is a brilliant line arraying; From savages never swaying. On them rush the Lidian warriors. Inflicting their savage tortures. THE DESERTED HUT. 57 When that savage colamn towered, Did they turn and tlee like cowards? Did this band so brave and gallant, Swerve one jot from being valiant"? Did this little handful tremble, When they saw they were out numbered? Did they scatter and dis-semble? Or by fear were o'er encumbered. No, with gallantry not deadened By the overwhelming forces, Fought they 'till the earth was reddened By the blood of many courses. Fierce and long, lasted the battle. One by one the band kei)t falling, Fell and died, butchered like cattle; "Twas a scene, indeed appalling. The last man fell. General Custer, Fell, but falling wept he not; With what strength that he could muster Raised and tried another shot. A bullet crashing through his brain. Soon streched him on the grass again To rise no more. His s})irit fled. He and his noble band were dead. To and fro each warrior passes O'er the blood soaked sand and grasses. Yells were rising, falling, swelling. O'er the dead men, dancing, yelling. While their lusty howls were ringing, Bloody scalps in air were swinging, By warriors held. The squaws join in. THE SOD CABIN. | And hel]) along the fearful din. In the shadow of the forest, Two, a silent watch were keeping. Jjistening to the fearful chorus. From tlieir hiding place were ])eeping; These he saw from his ])<)sition j On the rock}^ precipice; j And he noticed their condition; ] Which indeed he could not miss. | Even while the battle lasted; For their features were contrasted. Ijooks and manners showed one out. To be a thorough western scout. One was youthful, small and slender. With expression soft and tender; Bi-ushed back from the marble brow, A mass of hair, like driven snow. From the ])lace where they were hiding, AVatched the terrible affray. AVhen the tunuilt was subsiding, (41ided noiselessly awa}'. Dee]) into the forest gliding, Silently they made their way. In the visage of the older. Some-thing recolection brought. It was Deerfoot: Ne'er a bolder. Braver man in battle fought. Who could be the white haired stranger? Certainly no border ranger, AVith featui-es of such line order. E'er was seen upon the border. Had Old Deerfoot found the ])rute? THE DESERTED HUT. Scarface's track so well had covered, Ben's bad deed, had made him rue it, Lillian he had recovered? Her face like monumental marble, Her voice was like the birds that warble; Her hair, though not like driven snow. Perhaps the pain she 'd undergone Had made it whiten as his own. Oh! was it her with him below? Obscene language and rough cursing. Insults to which she 'd been subject, 'Mong the rough uncultured men Who drive the Redman from the plain, Caused her to unsex her person; If 'twas her that was her object. "Hasten me, oh, do not loiter. Mayhap, I have seen my daughter." Quickly down the rocks descending, Round the Indian camp went wending; Lonely in the deep recesses Of the wild and unknown forest. Plunged he madly through the forest, Plunged he through the deep morasses. For the foot-i)rints, searching vainly, Soon the night comes, dark, ungainly. He lies down to troubled slumbers. For his thoughts his mind encumbers. Hopes and fears he could not drown, In blankets wrapped he lays him down And there he lay, till morning dawn Lit up the eastern horizon. Disturbed the shadows in the glen; THE SOD CABIN. Tluni he arose to search again. His hounds refused his search to aid, To scent tlie traclvs couki not l)e nuule. He vainly searclied tlie forest thi-oiiuli To find a tr? ck or any chie; But the dry leaves left no trace. For the wind, the tracks erase. Hid the tracks of the departed. Left him sad and heavy-hearted. With the sun as guide and leacU'r. Onward went he weei)ing, crying, Seeking solace of the cedar. Of the night wind, moaning, sighing. Autumn passed and Winter comes. Winter ^)assed, again the Si)ring's Bright tiowei-s l)loom; but still he roams And nothing consolation brings. Every thing the man rejjroaches. On he moves and does not loitei'; One hot day a stream approaches. Bathes his feet in its cool water. There he sat in silence, moody. With his feelings more than bi-oody. Ahl no longer found lie pleasure In the over hanging mountains. No enjoyment in the leisure Lingerin