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“DOUGAL, IN KILTS, CAP, AND DIRK OF THE
Scottish HIGHLANDERS, ENTERED TO THE
SOUND OF THE BAG PIPE" “A SHADOW FELL ATHWART THE PAINTED WIG
WAM, AND ALL EYES TURNED TOWARD
Facing page “THE CHILD RENT HER ENVELOPE AND SLOWLY
READ THE LETTER"
“A DARK SINISTER FACE WAS PRESSED AGAINST
THE PANE, GLOWERING AT HER WITH WILD
“WHITE BUFFALO LIFTED HER UP AGAIN, THIS
TIME IN FRONT OF HIM”
"SHE LOOKED DOWN UPON THE HOME SHE WAS
TO LEAVE SO Soon"
Oh! Snatched away in beauty's bloom,
BYRON—Hebrew Melody. Long ago, when the Indians of the North still knelt in credulous and silent awe before the flashing fires of the “Northern Lights," seeing therein the dancing spirits of their slain warriors, a white man, young and courageous, came to live in their country of phantom mountains and sweeping prairies.
He was only a boy, in fact scarcely twenty summers crowned his years, but a restless albeit gentle spirit had ever swept him into adventures and enterprises which set him apart as something startling in the little English village where he dwelt.
After the thunderbolt of his determined departure into that vast abysm of scalping savages and manifold dangers, America, the dismayed family returned to their traditional occupations, —the father to dream among his books in the dingy old library, the older brother merely to wonder anew at the rashness of the younger, while the patient, loving mother plucked the Canterbury bells and gold of Ophir roses in the silent old garden, as she had done from time immemorial.
Far over the sea William Dunsmuir led a life quite different from the one he had left. Gradually working his way to the northwest, he became associated with one of the great fur companies which in the late 50's pursued an extensive trade in that remote and beautiful region. Somewhat later the rapid development of the mining industry also greatly absorbed him, and with these two interests he roamed the trackless forest and followed the great rivers in the free breathing independence that was the chief characteristic of his nature. Occasionally he took the fascinating voyage down the Missouri to the thriving city of St. Louis, and never forgot to
dispatch a part of his abundant revenue to those he had left in far-away England.
The life was perilous, for it was the land of the resentful Blackfoot, who, perceiving the rivers and plains fast diminishing in his chief sustenance, turned a defensive hand against every invasion of the white man. Often had Dunsmuir been robbed, often had he escaped with his life alone, but finally, through a singular happening, he came to their fireside and was honored with the pipe of peace and friendship.
On the outskirts of the vast region which the Blackfeet held in supreme and successful defiance of all other Indian tribes lived their bitter enemies, the Crows, with whom they constantly waged ferocious war. In a chance encounter of two hunting parties the Blackfeet were pushed to extremities and, in the confusion of a pell-mell retreat, being pursued the while by their triumphant victors, they did not notice that the beloved young warrior Wun-nes-tou, the son of their most powerful chief, was not among them. Wild and mournful were the lamentations which echoed among the cliffs when their loss was discovered.
1 The White Buffalo.