The echoing rock, the rushing flood,
  The cataract’s swell, the moaning wood;
  The undefined and mingled hums ­
  Voice of the desert never dumb! 
  All these have left within this heart
  A feeling tongue can ne’er impart;
  A wildered and unearthly flame,
  A something that’s without a name. ­ETTRICK SHEPHERD.

With extreme difficulty, Teddy made his way out of the ravine into which purposely he had been led by the hunter.  He was full of aches and pains when he attempted to walk, and more than once was compelled to halt to ease his bruised limbs.

As he painfully made his way back to the camp he did a vast deal of cogitation.  When in extreme pain of body, produced by a mishap intentionally conceived by another, it is but following the natural law of cause and effect to feel a certain degree of exasperation toward the evil-doer; and, as the Irishman at every step experienced a sharp twinge that ofttimes made him cry out, his ejaculations were neither conceived in charity nor uttered in good-will toward all men.  Still, he pondered deeply upon what the hunter had said, and was perplexed to know what could possibly be its meaning.

The simple nature of the Irishman was unable to fathom the mystery.  He could not have believed even had Harvey Richter himself confessed to having perpetrated a crime or a wrong, that the minister had been guilty of anything sufficient to give cause of enmity.  The strange hunter whom they had unexpectedly encountered several times, must be some crack-brained adventurer, the victim of a fancied wrong, who, most likely, had mistaken Harvey Richter for another person.

What could be the object in firing at the missionary, yet taking pains that no harm should be inflicted?  That was another impenetrable mystery; but, let it be comprehensible or not, the wrathful servitor inwardly vowed that, if the man crossed the path of himself or his master again, and the opportunity offered, he should shoot him down as he would a wild animal.

In the midst of his absorbing reverie, Teddy suddenly paused and looked around him.  He was lost.  Shrewd enough to understand that to attempt to extricate himself would only lead into a greater entanglement, from which it might not be possible to escape at all, he wisely concluded to remain where he was until daylight.  Gathering a few twigs and leaves, with his well-stored “punk-box” he soon started a small fire, by the light of which he collected a sufficient quantity of fuel to last until morning.

Few scenes of nature are more impressive than a forest at night.  That low deep roar, born of silence itself ­the sad sighing of the wind ­the tall, column-like trunks, resembling huge sentinels keeping guard over the mysteries of ages ­the silent sea of foliage overhead, that seems to shut in a world of its own ­all have an influence, peculiar, irresistible and sublime.

The picket upon duty is a prey to many an imaginary danger.  The rustling of a leaf, the crackling of a twig, the flitting shadows of the ever-changing clouds, are made to assume the guise of a foe, endeavoring to steal upon him unawares.  Again and again Teddy was certain he heard the stealthy tread of the strange hunter, or some prowling Indian, and his heart throbbed violently at the expected encounter.  Then, as the sound ceased, a sense of his utter loneliness came over him, and he pined for his old home in the States, which he had so lately left.

A tremulous wail, which came faintly through the silence of the boundless woods, reminded him that there were other inhabitants of the solitude besides human beings.  At such times, he drew nearer to the fire, as a child would draw near to a friend to shun an imaginary danger.

But, finally the drowsy god asserted himself, and the watcher passed off into a deep slumber.  His last recollection was a dim consciousness of hearing the tread of something near the camp-fire.  But his stupor was so great that he had not the inclination to arouse himself, and with his face buried in the leaves of his bushy couch, he quickly lost cognizance of all things, and floated off into the illimitable realms of sleep ­Sleep, the sister of Death.

He came out of his heavy slumber from feeling something snuffing and clawing at his shoulder.  He was wide awake at once, and all his faculties, even to his anger, were aroused.

“Git out, ye owld sarpent!” he shouted, springing to his feet.  “Git out, or I’ll smash yer head the same as I smashed the assassin’s, barring I didn’t do it!”

The affrighted animal leaped back several yards, as lightly as a shadow.  Teddy caught only a glimpse of the beast, but could plainly detect the phosphorescent glitter of his angry eyes, that watched every movement.  The Irishman’s first proceeding was to replenish the fire.  This kept the creature at a safe distance, although he began trotting around and around, as if to seek some unguarded loophole through which to compass the destruction of the man who had thus invaded his dominions.

The tread of the animal resembled the rattling of raindrops upon the leaves, while its silence, its gliding motion, convinced the inexperienced Irishman of the brute’s exceedingly dangerous character.  His rifle was too much injured to be of use and he could therefore only keep his precocious foe at a safe distance by piling on fuel until the camp-fire burned defiantly.

There was no more sleep for Teddy that night.  He had received too great a shock, and the impending danger was too imminent for him to do any thing but watch, so long as darkness and the animal remained.  Several times he thought there was evidence of the presence of another beast, but he failed to discover it, and finally believed he had been mistaken.

It was a tiresome and lonely occupation, this incessant watching, and Teddy had recourse to several expedients to while away the weary hours.  The first and most natural was that of singing.  He trolled forth every song that he could recall to remembrance, and it may be truly said that he awoke echoes in those forest-aisles never before heard there.  As in the pauses he heard the volume of sound that seemed quivering and swaying among the tree-trunks, like the confined air in an organ, he was awed into silence.

“Whist, ye son of Patrick McFadden; don’t ye hear the responses all around ye, as if the spirits were in the organ loft, thinkin’ ye a praist and thimselves the choir-boys.  I belaves, by me sowl, that ivery tree has got a tongue, for hear how they whispers and mutters.  Niver did I hear the likes.  No more singin’, Teddy my darlint, to sich an audience.”

He thereupon relapsed into silence, but it was only momentary.  He suddenly looked out into the darkness which shrouded the still watchful beast from sight, and exclaimed: 

“Ye owld shivering assassin, out there, did yees ever hear till how Tom O’Reilly got his wife?  Yees never did, eh?  Well, then, be aisy now, and I’ll give yees the truths of the matter.

“Tom was a great, rollicking boy, that had an eye gouged out at the widow Mulloney’s wake, and an ugly cut that made his mouth six inches wide:  and, before he got the cut, it was as broad as yer own out there.  Besides, his hair being of a fire’s own red, you may safely say that he was not the most beautiful young man in Limerick, and that there wasn’t many gals that were dying of a broken heart for the same Tom.

“But Tom thought a mighty sight of the gals and a great deal more of Kitty McGuire, that lived close by the brook as yees come a mile or two out of this side of Limerick.  Tom was possessed after that same gal, and it only made him the more determined when he found that Kitty didn’t like him at all.  He towld the boys he was bound to have her, and any one who said he wasn’t would get his head broke.

“There was a little orphan girl, whose father had gone to Ameriky and whose mother was dead, that was found one night, years before, in front of old Mrs. McGuire’s door.  She was about the same age as Kitty, and the owld woman took her out of kindness and brought them up together.  She got to be jist as ugly a looking a gal as Tom was a man.  Her hair was redder than his, and her face was just that freckled that yees couldn’t tell which was the freckle and which was the skin itself.  And her nose had a twist, on the ind of it, that made one think it had been made for a corkscrew, or some machine that you bore holes with.

“This gal, Molly Mulligan, used to encourage Tom to come to the house, and was always so mighty kind to him that he used to kiss and shpark her by way of compinsating her for her trouble.  She used to take this all very well, for she was a great admirer of Tom’s, and always spoke his praise.  But Tom didn’t make much headway with Kitty.  It wasn’t often that he could saa her, and when he did; she was mighty offish, and was sure to have the owld woman present, like a dumb-waiter, to be sure.  She come to tell him at length that she didn’t admire his coming, and that he would greatly plaise her if he would make his visits by staying away altogether.  The next time Tom went he found the door locked, and, after hammering a half-hour, and being towld there was no admittance, he belaved it was meant as a kind hint that his company was not agreeable.  Be yees listening, ye riptile?

“Tom might have stood it very well, if another chap hadn’t begun calling on Kitty about this time.  He used to go airly in the evening, and not come out of the house till after midnight, so that one might belave his visits were welcome.  This made Tom feel mighty bad, and so he hid behind the wall and waylaid the chap one night.  He would have killed the chap, his timper was so ruffled, if the man hadn’t nearly killed him afore he had the chance.  He laid all night in the gutter, and was just able to crawl home next day, while the fellow went a-courting the next night, as if nothing had happened.

“Tom begun to git melancholy, and his mouth didn’t appear quite as broad as usual.  Molly Mulligan thought he had taken slow poison and it was gradually working through his system; but he could ate his pick of praties the same as iver.  But Tom felt mighty bad; that fact can’t be denied, and he went frequently to consult with a praist that lived near this ind of Limerick, and who was knowed to cut up a trick or two during his lifetime.  When Tom came out one day looking bright and cheery, iverybody belaved they had been conspiring togither, and had hit on some thavish trick they was to play on little Kitty McGuire.

“When the moon was bright, Kitty used to walk to Limerick and back again of an evening.  Her beau most likely went with her, but sometimes she preferred to go alone, as she knowed no one would hurt a bonny little gal as herself.  Tom knowed of these doings, as in days gone by he had jined her once or twice.  So one night he put a white sheet around him as she was coming back from Limerick, and hid under the little bridge over the brook.  It was gitting quite late, and the moon was just gone down, so, when she stepped on the bridge, and he came out afore her, she gave one shriek, and like to have fainted intirely.

“‘Make no noise, or I’ll ate ye up alive,’ said Tom, trying to talk like a ghost.

“‘What isht yees want?’ she asked, shaking like a leaf, ’and who are yees?’

“‘I’m a shpirit, come to warn ye of your ill-doings.’

“‘I know I’m a great sinner,’ she cried, covering her face with her hands; ‘but I try to do as well as I can.’

“‘Do you know Tom O’Reilly?’ he asked, loud enough to be heard in Limerick.  ‘You have treated him ill.’

“‘That I know I have,’ she sobbed, ‘and how can I do him justice?’

“‘He loves you.’

“‘I know he does!’

“’He is a shplendid man, and will make a much bitter husband than the spalpeen that ye now looks on with favor.’

“‘Shall I make him my husband?’

“’Yis; if ye wish to save yourself from purgatory.  If the other man marries yees, he’ll murder yees the same night.’

“‘Oh!’ shrieked the gal, as if she’d go down upon the ground, ’and how shall I save meself?’

“‘By marrying Tom O’Reilly.’

“‘Is that the only way?’

“‘Ay.  Does yees consint?’

“‘I do; I must do poor Tom justice.’

“‘Will ye marry him this same night?’

“‘That I will.’

“’Tom is hid under this bridge; I’ll go down and bring him up, and he’ll go to the praist’s with yees.  Don’t ye shtir or I’ll ate yees.’

“So Tom whisked under the ind of the bridge, slipped off the sheet, all the time kaaping one eye cocked above to saa that Kitty didn’t give him the shlip.  He then came up and spoke very smilingly to the gal, as though he hadn’t seen her afore that night.  He didn’t think that his voice was jist the same.

“Kitty didn’t say much, but she walked very quiet by his side, till they came to the praist’s house at this ind of Limerick.  The owld fellow must have been expecting him, for before he could knock, he opened the door and let him in.  The praist didn’t wait long, and in five minutes he towld them they were man and wife, and nothing but death could iver make them different.  Tom gave a regular yell that made the windys rattle, for he couldn’t kaap his faalings down.  He then threw his arms around his wife, gave her another hug, and then dropped her like a hot potato.  For instead of being Kitty McGuire, it was Molly Mulligan!  The owld praist wasn’t so bad after all.  He had told Kitty and Molly of Tom’s plans, and they had fixed the matter atween thim.

“Wal, the praist laughed, and Tom looked melancholier than iver; but purty soon he laughed too, and took the praist’s advice to make the bist of the bargain.  Whisht!”

Teddy paused abruptly, for he heard a prolonged but faint halloo.  It was, evidently, the call of his master, and indicated the direction of the camp.  He replied at once, and without thinking one moment of the prowling brute which might be upon him instantly, he passed beyond the protecting circle of his fire, and dashed off at top of his speed through the woods, and ere long reached the camp-fire of his friends.  As he came in, he observed that Mrs. Richter still was asleep beneath the canoe, while her husband stood watching beside her.  Teddy had determined to conceal the particulars of the conversation he had held with the officious hunter, but he related the facts of his pursuit and mishap, and of his futile attempt to make his way back to camp.  After this, the two seated themselves by the fire, and the missionary was soon asleep.  The adventures of the night, however, affected Teddy’s nerves too much for him even to doze, and he therefore maintained an unremitting watch until morning.

At an early hour, our friends were astir, and at once launched forth upon the river.  They noted a broadening of the stream and weakening of the current, and at intervals they came upon long stretches of prairie.  The canoe glided closely along, where they could look down into the clear depths of the water, and discover the pebbles glistening upon the bottom.  Under a point of land, where the stream made an eddy, they halted, and with their fishing-lines, soon secured a breakfast which the daintiest gourmand might have envied.  They were upon the point of landing so as to kindle a fire, when Mr. Richter spoke: 

“Do you notice that large island in the stream, Cora?  Would you not prefer that as a landing-place?”

“I think I should.”

“Teddy, we’ll take our morning meal there.”

The powerful arms of the Irishman sent the frail vessel swiftly over the water, and a moment later its prow touched the velvet shore of the island.  Under the skillful manipulations of the young wife, who insisted upon taking charge, their breakfast was quickly prepared, and, one might say, almost as quickly eaten.

They had now advanced so far to the northward that all felt an anxiety to reach their destination.  Accordingly no time was lost in the ascent of the stream.

The exhilarating influence of a clear spring morning in the forest, is impossible to resist.  The mirror-like sparkle of the water that sweeps beneath the light canoe, or glitters in the dew-drops upon the ashen blade; the golden blaze of sunshine streaming up in the heavens; the dewy woods, flecked here and there by the blossoms of some wild fruit or flower; the cool air beneath the gigantic arms all a-flutter with the warbling music of birds; all conjoin to inspire a feeling which carries us back to boyhood again ­to make us young once more.

As Richter sat in the canoe’s stern, and drank in the influence of the scene, his heart rose within him, and he could scarcely refrain from shouting.  His wife, also, seemed to partake of this buoyancy, for her eyes fairly sparkled as he glanced from side to side.  All at once Teddy ceased paddling and pointed to the left shore.  Following the direction of his finger, Richter saw, standing upon the bank in full view, the tall, spare figure of the strange hunter.  He seemed occupied in watching them, and was as motionless as the tree-trunks behind him ­so motionless, indeed, that it required a second scrutiny to prove that it really was not an inanimate object.  The intensity of his observation prevented him from observing that Teddy had raised his rifle from the canoe.  He caught the click of the lock, however, and spoke in a sharp tone: 

“Teddy, don’t you dare to ­”

His remaining words were drowned in the sharp crack of the piece.

“It’s only to frighten him jist, Master Harvey.  It’ll sarve the good purpose of giving him the idée we ain’t afeard, and if he continues his thaiving tricks, he is to be shot at sight, as a shaap-stalin’ dog, that he is, to be sure.”

“You’ve hit him!” said his master, as he observed the hunter leap into the woods.

“Thank the Lord for that, for it was an accident, and he’ll l’arn we’ve rifles as well as himself.  It’s mighty little harm, howiver, is done him, if he can travel in that gay style.”

“I am displeased, for your shot might have taken his life, and ­but, see yonder, Teddy, what does that mean?”

Close under the opposite bank, and several hundred yards above them was discernible a long canoe, in which was seated at least a dozen Indians.  They were coming slowly down-stream, and gradually working their way into the center of the river.  Teddy surveyed them a moment and said: 

“That means they’re after us.  Is it run or fight?”

“Neither; they are undoubtedly from the village, and we may as well meet them here as there.  What think you, dear wife?”

“Let us join them, by all means, at once.”

All doubts were soon removed, when the canoe was headed directly toward them, and under the propulsion of the many skillful arms, it came like a bird over the surface of the waters.  A few rods away its speed was slackened, and, before approaching closer, it made a circuit around the voyageurs’ canoe, as if the warriors were anxious to assure themselves there was no decoy or design in this unresisting surrender.

Evidently satisfied that it was a bona fide affair, the Indians swept up beside our friends, and one of the warriors, stretching out his hands, said: 

“Gib guns me ­gib guns.”

“Begorrah, but it would be mighty plaisant to us, if it would be all the same to yees, if ye’d be clever enough to let us retain possission of ’em,” said Teddy, hesitating about complying with the demand.  “They might do ye some injury, ye know, and besides, I didn’t propose to ­”

“Let them have them,” said Richter.  The Irishman reluctantly obeyed, and while he passed his rifle over with his left hand, he doubled up his right, shaking it under the savage’s nose.

“Ye’ve got me gun, ye old log of walnut, but ye hain’t got me fists, begorrah, but, by the powers, ye shall have them some of these fine mornings whin yer eyes want opening.”

“Teddy, be silent!” sharply commanded the missionary.

But the Indians, understanding the significance of the Irishman’s gestures, only smiled at them, and the chief who had taken his gun, nodded his head, as much as to say he, too, would enjoy a fisticuff.

When the whites were defenseless, one of the savages vaulted lightly into their canoe, and took possession of the paddle.

“I’m highly oblaiged to ye,” grinned Teddy, “for me arms have been waxin’ tired ever sin’ I l’arned the Injin way of driving a canoe through the water.  When ye gets out o’ breath jist ax another red-skin to try his hand, while I boss the job.”

The canoes were pulled rapidly up-stream.  This settled that the whites were being carried to the village which was their original destination.  Both Harvey and his wife were rather pleased than otherwise with this, although the missionary would have preferred an interview or conversation in order to make himself and intentions known.  He was surprised at the knowledge they displayed of the English language.  He overheard words exchanged between them which were as easy to understand as much of Teddy’s talk.  They must be, therefore, in frequent communication with white men.  Their location was so far north that, as Richter plausibly inferred, they were extensive dealers in furs and peltries, which must be disposed of to traders and the agents of the American Fur and Hudson Bay Companies.  The Selkirk or Red river settlement also, must be at an easily accessible distance.

It may seem strange that it never occurred to the captives that the savages might do them harm.  In fact, nothing but violence itself would have convinced the missionary that such was contemplated.  He had yielded himself, heart and soul, to his work; he felt an inward conviction that he was to accomplish great good.  Trials and sufferings of all imaginable kinds he expected to undergo, but his life was to be spared until the work was accomplished.  Of that he never experienced a moment’s doubt.

Our readers will bear in mind that the period of which we write, although but a little more than forty years since, was when the territory west of the Mississippi was almost entirely unknown.  Trappers, hunters and fur-traders in occasional instances, penetrated into the heart of the mighty solitude.  Lewis and Clarke had made their expedition to the head-waters of the Columbia, but the result of all these visits, to the civilized world, was much the same as that of the adventurers who have penetrated into the interior of Africa.

It was known that on the northwest dwelt the warlike Blackfeet, the implacable foes of every white man.  There, also, dwelt other tribes, who seemed resolved that none but their own race should dwell upon that soil.  Again, there were others with whom little difficulty was experienced in bartering and trading, to the great profit of the adventurous whites, and the satisfaction of the savages; still, the shrewd traders knew better than to trust to Indian magnanimity or honor.  Their reliance under heaven, was their tact in managing the savages, and their own goodly rifles and strong arms.  The Sioux were among the latter class, and with them it was destined that the lot of Harvey Richter and his wife should be cast.

The Indian village was reached in the course of a couple of hours.  It was found to be much larger than Richter could have anticipated.  The missionary soon made known his character and wishes.  This secured an audience with the leading chief, when Harvey explained his mission, and asked permission for himself and companions to settle among them.  With the ludicrous dignity so characteristic of his people, the chief deferred his reply until the following day, at which time he gave consent, his manner being such as to indicate that he was rather unwilling than otherwise.

That same afternoon, the missionary collected the dusky children of the forest together and preached to them, as best he could, through the assistance of a rude interpreter.  He was listened to respectfully by the majority, among whom were several whom he inferred already had heard the word of life.  There were others, however, to whom the ceremony was manifestly distasteful.  The hopeful minister felt that his Master had directed him to this spot, and that now his real life-work had begun.