The Land Claim

(Upload an image to replace this placeholder.)

THE

LAND CLAIM.

A TALE OF THE UPPER MISSOURI.

BY MRS. FRANCES FULLER BARRITT.

NEW YORK:

BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,

118 WILLIAM STREET.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by

BEADLE AND COMPANY,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York.

(No. 39.)

THE LAND CLAIM;

A STORY OF THE UPPER MISSOURI.

CHAPTER I.

FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

Away, away toward the almost trackless plain stretched the rolling prairies. The Indian Territory had given way before the advancing hosts of civilization, and surveyors, speculators, locaters, squatters, traders and adventurers gathered where the red-man had been, to found new States. Nebraska and Kansas became familiar names; and, as the Pawnees, the Owahas, the Ottoes, the Kickapoos, the Puncas, disappeared like shadows, the tide of restless, eager, insatiable "pale-faces" poured in to make the Indian wilderness to blossom with a new life. The grand old river, coming from the unexplored and mythic regions of the Rocky Mountains, poured its flood through plain and forest, through bluff and bottom, to bear on its bosom the new civilization which it was to serve with the best elements of health, wealth and peace. From its sides spread the avenues of settlement, and villages sprung up like magic to stand as buoys guiding the settler to the new regions beyond, where plains were still unstaked and timber bottoms still unclaimed.

Among those who sought the Nebraska country, at an early moment after its opening for settlement, was Thomas Newcome. Though hailing from Connecticut, he was an Englishman, and had sought the West," not more to better his fortunes than to gratify an uneasy and reckless spirit, little fitted for the observations and restraints of a New England community. His history had been tinged with the romance—which, unfortunately for happiness and good order is too frequently the truth—of a mesalliance: he had won the love of an artless girl, the daughter of a noble family which he served as gardener, and, with her, had fled to America. The mere child-wife of his deception learned her error only too late, and lived long enough to taste the bitterness of poverty as well as the more poignant sorrow of unkindness at the hands of the cruel and unforgiving man she was forced to call husband. The act of desertion had not only alienated her friends and family, but her fortune—the prize which Newcome had most coveted—was disposed of to others, and the beautiful woman only lived long enough to teach her daughter the grace and culture of a cultivated circle-to impart to her a mother's beauty, and, alas, all her sorrows.

Newcome and his child occupied a claim close upon the Missouri. Their newly-built log-cabin nestled close in upon the belt of timber which, fortunately, ran across the selected section of land, whose boundaries-well defined on three sides by the river, the woods, and a ravine cutting down through the bluffs-were still open and a matter of doubt on the fourth side. The "blazing" of trees, and driving of stakes across the prairies, indicated the limits of the land "located" by the preemptors. Where these lines were thus plainly marked, no doubts could arise as to each man's proper possessions; where the lines were not so marked, or where the stakes had been moved either by accident or design, the limits of the claim might become a matter of dispute. Such disputes often occurred, and afterward proved.the source of much litigation as well as violence.

On the fourth side, Newcome's lines were not definitely indicated, and trespassers were not long in waiting. The rich soil ajacent had been located by one of four young imen, whose cabin reposed on the bosom of the prairie in the midst of their conjoined claims. The Englishman found the stakes driven on what he conceived to be his soil; whereupon his unruly spirit became aroused to its fullest extent, and he proceeded to pull up the offending landmarks. The stakes, however, were replaced by his bachelor neighbors, and the intimation given that they should insist upon their line-an intimation which stirred Newcome's heart to the point of resorting to powder and ball to defend his claim. Against this spirit of her father, Alicia, his daughter, was powerless. Though but a girl in years, she Was his only aid and housekeeper, and alone had to bear her heavy burden. The fear of bloodshed, however, induced her to plead for peace-a plea which only aggravated the parent's unnatural harshness. He walked the floor, in his anger, uttering imprecations on his neighbors. Alicia, to divert his thoughts, at length timidly remarked:

"Mr. Mauvais, from the trading-post, was here to-day inquiring for you."

"What did he want with me?-the cursed Frenchman!"

"He did not state his business; he said he would call again in a day or two."

Newcome looked sharply at his daughter.

"Must have been urgent business, I should say! How long did he stay? What did he say to you?"

The young girl felt herself blushing, more at her father's tone and manner, than at any thing she recollected in the interview with the trader. This suspicious manner on the part of the questioner made her own hesitating and embarrassed, as she answered:

"I hardly can tell what he said; though I think he admired our choice for a building spot-remarked that this whole country was familiar ground to him—that he could tell me many interesting stories of the Indian wars, manners, legends, etc."

"No doubt. Very interesting some of them would be. He ought to be pretty well posted in Indian customs. What else did he say?"

"He asked me whether I had any brothers and sisters; and thought I must be very lonely on this wild claim with no one but you; and you gone much of the time."

"He thinks you need company, does he? Well, I don't agree with him. I tell you what, Alicia Newcome, if that French trader comes around here any more, asking for me, and stopping to talk with you, I'll make you sorry for encouraging such acquaintances."

"But, how can I keep him from coming, or from talking to me if he should come?" asked Alicia, between grief and resentment at her father's harshness.

"There's ways enough. Every woman knows, or ought to know, how to rid herself of the society of disreputable men."

"But I am not a woman yet, father; and I do not know how to give any but a respectful answer to respectful remarks from any one."

"Too much mother's blood, eh? Take care that I don't see you showing your good blood too plainly. You understand? I will not have you doing as your mother did before you—courting with her gracious smiles every one she met."

This manner of being revenged on his aristocratic wife for bringing him no money was habitual with Newcome, and had been one of the briers in her crown of thorns while she lived. Accustomed as was Alicia to hear her mother sneered at on account of that very gentleness which had made her too easy a prey to a foolish passion and a designing underling, she could but reflect upon her superiority in all those qualifications which confer grace and sweetness; nor could she help being hurt at every fresh insult to the memory of her dead mother, though use had done what it might to render her young mind callous to them. A few slow-dropping tears rolled over her cheeks, which she brushed away stealthily, for fear of giving occasion to a yet more cruel taunt on her likeness to her beloved and departed mother.

The cabin of Thomas Newcome was but a dreary place for so fair a young creature as his only child. Happily for her she did not feel it as a serious misfortune to be poor. Whatever of elegant tastes she had received from her mother's training while still they abode in intellectual New England, had taught her rather to embellish poverty with many careful arts, than to be herself overcome by its natural ugliness. Thus it happened that, though every thing was most unpoetically new, rude and ungraceful about the cabin home, an air of neatness and propriety were everywhere visible, which spoke volumes in favor of its youthful mistress. And yet, making every possible allowance, and seeing every thing in the most favorable light, it was, after all, but a poor and barren spot for gentle youth and eminent beauty to take healthy root in.

Perhaps some such thought was in the sullen breast of Thomas Newcome; as he stole a furtive glance at his daughter straining her eyes to hem-stitch some curtains for the cabin-windows by the light of a single tallow candle. What would her proud English relations say, could they see her as he saw her at that moment? Cursing them in his heart, he started up so violently as to upset the rude chair he had occupied, and began pacing the puncheon floor restlessly.

" Go to bed, girl! I want an early breakfast; for I shall be out ahead of them claim-jumpers. If it's boundaries they want that's what I'll give them to-morrow morning. If they dare to pull up one of my stakes, I'll let daylight into them, without further notice."

Terrified at her father's unusually violent mood, Alicia quickly and silently obeyed, retiring to the only bedroom, while her father threw himself on a "bunk" in the common living room; and stillness, if not sleep, fell upon the inmates of that lonely habitation.

CHAPTER II.

AN EVENING IN BACHELOR'S HALL.

In quite a different spirit had the evening been enjoyed by the squatters on a neighboring claim. For the sake of sociability, comfort and economy, four young hunters of claims had agreed to board, and lodge together, thus saving the trouble of three other cabins, being built and furnished; for the claim-laws only required that a foundation should be laid to indicate possession, and the intention to build. Thus, while they surveyed and marked out the lines of their several claims, one roof was sufficient for all, and a vast amount of enjoyment did these amateur housekeepers find in trying to make themselves barely comfortable.

A fine-looking set of young fellows they were, too, in wonderful red woolen shirts, and a surprising amount of beard and hair. Sufficient refinement appeared in their looks and manners to show that they had "seen better days," while enough of the ruddy hue of active exercise glowed on their careless faces to demonstrate the power of air and motion to beautify manhood.

The quartette was made up of four distinct professions—a physician who had never practiced, a lawyer ditto, a surveyor, and an editor—the latter two having had some experience in what they pretended to practice. Very harmoniously lived these four togetler, in a shanty of rough boards, furnished with two rude bedsteads, as many plank benches, a cooking stove, pine table, and a few tin dishes. It was agreed among them that, "for short," each one was to be called by his professional title, or an abbreviation thereof. Thus Doc, Squire, Ed, and Flag, served to denote the personality of gentlemen whose real and complete names will transpire in due season. Over the soubriquet of Flag, there had at first been considerable discussion, one contending for Comp., abbreviation of compass; another for Tent, and a third for Chain; but the surveyor himself carried the day, and was voted unanimously to be Flag, at his own suggestion.

"I say, fellows, this is jolly, isn't it?" remarked Squire, kicking up his heels like a four-year-old, as he lay at length on one of the beds.

"Jolly!" reiterated Doc; "I should think so, for you fellows, kicking up your heels on the beds! But this is my fourth day, as cook, and my back aches like blazes."

"Pooh, you talk like a woman," says Flag, in a tone intended to be very disdainful of the weakness.

"I only wish I could hear a real woman talking, in this shanty," answers Doc, mournfully. "Confound it! I shall never learn to pour the water off the potatoes without scalding my hands with the steam."

"Why don't you take the potatoes out of the water with a fork?" asks Flag, with provoking coolness.

"Because that's not the way it's done by women cooks," was the reply, in rather a surly tone. "That's the way you did, I suppose, when you was cook, and that accounts for their not being fit to eat."

"Without doubt," put in the Squire, soberly; "women are among the most useful of the domestic animals. Now, a man may keep house very comfortably without a dog or a cat, a horse or a cow; but without a woman, something is pretty apt to go wrong. I shouldn't wonder, if we had a woman in the house, if she could put to flight these pilfering mice that are destroying every thing. There was Mrs. Smith that I boarded with when I studied law—she never had a cat about the house nor a mouse either. I suppose she must have caught them herself. Then she didn't keep a cow, and yet we had plenty of milk—she said it was milk—for our coffee. There wasn't a dog nor a horse about the place either, that I knew of; and we all got along comfortably. I always thought it was her management. In fact, I suppose a woman to be an epitome of the domestic universe!"

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself—talking so disrespectfully of the sex," said Doc, indignantly. "Your mother was a woman, I suppose?"

"Guess so—couldn't swear to it, though," replied the Squire.

"Well, supper's ready. I hope this coffee is hot enough to burn your tongue, and learn it better manners."

"You're confounded cross to-night, Doc," said Flag, as he seated himself on the bench beside Squire.

"Cross! Wasn't you cross. I wonder, while you was cook? To be sure, you said it was because you had such a terrible cold from the wind blowing on your bed during the storm; and that you had liked to have blown your brains out-the only witty thing you were ever guilty of saying, to my knowledge."

"Plague take the mice!" ejaculated Doc, vehemently, as he viewed the wreck of his only bit of butter; "they get into every thing. I believe they would go through a Dutchman's money-chest after a greasy coin; and as to keeping them out of things in this shanty, it isn't to be done."

"We'll have to have a rat-tail supper," remarked Flag.

"A what?" asked Squire.

"A rat-tail supper."

"That's a new delicacy! Pray how should they be served?" asked Doc, with great interest.

"In soup, I should say," suggested Squire.

"Oh, you unsuspecting innocents," laughed Flag, "would you, really now, desire some rat-tail soup?"

"Why, of course, if it's good,"

Flag indulged in an uproarous burst of merriment, which nearly upset the table.

"Explain yourself," said Squire.

After beginning several times and stopping to laugh, Flag managed at last to explain.

"Why, fellows, all there is about it is just this. Where I was raised, down in Southern Ohio, there was lots of rats-in fact the varmints caused very serious losses to the farmers and others. One winter, when I was a boy, we took to forming companies of rat-catchers. Two of these companies would contend together for catching the largest number in a given time; and when the time came for counting: tails, the party that was beaten had to give the other party a supper."

"Oho!" said Doc.

"Very patriotic," said Squire.

Flag humanely forbore to laugh any longer at the expense of his fellows, being under a wholesome fear of retaliation at the earliest opportunity.

After supper was dismissed, the dishes were tumbled together into a pan, to be left for Ed to wash when he came home. " As for doing Ed's work, I am not going to do it an hour longer. Three days is the rule; and Ed has shirked a whole day of his time as usual; "saying which Doc stretched himself on the bed which Flag had considerately given up because the cook complained of an ache in his back.

"Yes, Ed is a shirk, that's a fact," Squire remarked, as the Doctor became silent.

"He is real mean, I think," added Flag. "He always takes the best of everything that the rest of us have troubled ourselves to get; and he never gets any thing."

"That's just it," rejoined Doe; "he is lazy and selfish."

"Suppose we play him a trick?" said Squire.

"Agreed. What shall it be?"

" He'll be sure not to get himself any supper when he comes in, so it is easy enough to trick him. Just set the cold meat and bread on the table in a careless manner, as if it was intended to be thrown out. He won't mind that—he'd rather eat the pieces than cook any thing."

"But I don't see what joke there is in that—it's just what he always does," said Doc.

"Let me finish," said Squire. "We'll just step out long enough to give him time to come in and eat, and, when the fatal deed is done, we will reappear in time to assure him he has just eaten our wolf-bait, strychnine and all. Lord! won't it be fun to see his roaring and kicking? for he will be frightened to death."

" Good," cried Doc.

"Excellent," echoed Flag. "But we must hurry, for I hear his whistle already."

"There goes the stuff on the table. Let's run now, boys."

Doc quite forgot his back-ache, and was lively as a cricket, while the others were not behind.

"Where are you going?" called Ed, who at that moment came within hail.

"Going to see if old Newcome isn't staking his claim by moonlight," answered Squire, cheerfully; "be back again directly."

The three retired to a safe distance, and discussed the best manner of giving the alarm.

The unsuspecting Ed lunched off the broken remains of the supper with the relish of a hungry man, and then betook himself to a newspaper fresh from the "States," whose date made it two weeks old.

"You are late this evening, Ed," remarked Squire, as the conspirators returned; "got any news?"

"Not much; some interesting letters from the Crimea. That's pretty much all that's worth reading two weeks after printing. Confounded bore to be deprived of the daily news isn't it."

"'Tis so; but then a fellow soon gets used to it. It's all in habit."

"Yes like every thing else," rejoined Doc. "Had any supper, Ed?"

"Well, I helped myself to the leavings; guess that'll do."

The Doctor gave a start, and turned to survey the table.

"Good heaven! did you eat that stuff on the table? "

"I eat some meat and bread, to be sure I did. But what is the matter? You all look as if you had the palsy."

"You're a dead man!" exclaimed Doc, sinking upon one of the benches.

"The wolf-bait! strychnine! "cried Squire and Flag, in tones of horror.

"What do you say? Was the meat poisoned?" asked Ed, piteously, his face and limbs fairly rigid with terror.

"What do you give for strychnine poison, Doc?" inquired Squire, with a sudden appearance of hopefulness. "It may not be too late to save him yet."

"But strychnine acts almost immediately," groaned Flag, despairingly.

"Oil! fat! lard! grease!" ejaculated Doc, rapidly. "We've got some lard and some oil; I'll try that."

While Doc plunged an iron spoon into the lard-can, Ed sat rocking himself to and fro on a bench, with his hands on his stomach, and an expression of agony upon his countenance.

"Oh, it's no use," said he, as Doc offered him a large spoonful of cold lard; "it's too late now; the poison has done its work. Oh, I am in such awful pain! Oh, dear! oh, dear! how could you be so careless?"

"Forgive me, Ed, before you die, if you do die; but perhaps you won't die, after all, old fellow," said Doc, affecting a cheerful manner. "Come, take this lard, quick—there's no time to lose; swallow it right down."

Dying though he believed he was, poor Ed found it hard work to get a quarter of a pound of cold lard down his throat. After swallowing a small portion of it he laid down on the bed in despair.

"Don't give up so, Ed," said Flag, kindly "take this oil, which is easier to swallow. Come, now, don't give up."

Thus urged, Ed made an effort, and swallowed the contents of an oil-cruet at one gulp.

"Isn't that enough to save me, Doctor?" he asked, writhing with imaginary pains and real sickness of stomach.

"I don't know; don't you feel any easier since the lard?"

"Oh, no, I don't feel any better at all. I believe if the lard was melted I could take it easier. Somebody rub my stomach for me, can't you?"

Squire and Flag proceeded to rub him as requested, while Doc melted some more lard in a tin cup over the flame of a candle, for the fire in the stove had all gone out.

I believe the rubbing does me good," gasped the poor victim, who could with difficulty get his breath under the vigorous treatment of his friends.

"I think it does," replied Doc; "and now if you can manage to get down a little more of this grease I guess we shall be able to save you."

Oh, Lord!" cried Ed, as his stomach heaved at the nauseous dose; "it is near about as bad as the poison."

"Never mind, Ed," was Squire's advice; "if it saves your life you can get over the medicine."

"There, that will do, boys. I'll just lie still awhile, and see how I feel;" and the poor fellow lay groaning under a horrible sickness, while his anxious friends stood grouped about his bed in silent sympathy. Presently there was a violent retching and vomiting which really alarmed his friends for fear some injury would come from it; and, after a while, silence and exhaustion. After repeated violent vomitings, poor, victimized Ed fell into a profound slumber, and the three conspirators retired to rest, almost ashamed to laugh at the success of their joke, satisfactory as that had been.

At an unusually early hour of the morning, the whole party was awakened by a noise as of some one coming in.

"Is that you, Doc? "yawned Squire, who occupied a bed with Flag.

"No," said Doc, "I guess it's Ed; he's not in the bed at any rate."

"What are you up so early for, Ed? Do you feel worse again?"

"Worse! I guess you would feel worse if you had half a pint of oil and as much more lard griping in your vitals."

A roar of laughter burst from the occupants of the beds, which caused some grumbling on Ed's part.

"It's very easy for you to laugh, no doubt; but if either of you had come as near being poisoned to death, and had to suffer the way I have, there wouldn't be so much fun in it, I reckon."

"That's a fact," put in Squire, sympathizingly. "You'll be all right again, and it is mean for the fellows to laugh when you have been in such danger."

"Well, we weren't laughing at your accident, you know," added Flag, "but just at the funny parts of the treatment. But I think, after all, Ed, we ought to make you pay for the wolf-skins, 'cause we'd surely have trapped three or four, it was such a pretty night for them to be out."

"More likely that I ought to sue you all for damages," groaned the victim, rocking himself to and fro in the darkness in a frantic manner.

"Don't be wrathy, Ed; of course, it was all a mistake. Doc shall do double duty now, and be cook for two days longer, as a punishment for his carelessness."

This promise somewhat molified Ed's resentment, and he soon subsided into a doze.

An early breakfast was prepared, in order to give all a good start in the business of the day. It was pretty well understood that Newcome intended to remove some of the stakes which bounded a claim belonging to Squire and Doc, and the young men resolved to be on the ground in time to intercept such irregular proceedings.

Flag had business with a party of surveyors, which would take him several miles from home, and keep him out until nightfall. Ed declared his intention to go hunting, if, after eating some breakfast, he felt able to carry his gun.

"Then you can shoot the wolves you cheated us out of last night," remarked Flag.

"Confound you, Flag! I've half a mind to shoot you, or Doc, or whoever it was that put the strychnine on the meat, and then left it on the table. I'm not sure but I could make out a case of intentional poisoning, and have you all arrested."

"No, you couldn't Ed," said Doe, with a provoking smile, "because there wasn't any strychinine on the meat. You've just been cleverly sold, that's all."

Ed glanced at the faces of Squire and Flag, and saw that they were on the point of "exploding." Hastily finishing his single cup of coffee, the victim of the "sell" arose from the table took his gun from its rest, and left the shanty without a word.

"Whew! he's as mad as a hornet," said Flag. "I shouldn't wonder if he did something ugly in revenge."

"Yes, wouldn't he be enraged if the joke should get into the papers? His editorial dignity, and all that. He'll never forgive us, you, may be sure."

"Nonsense! a tempest in a teapot," said Squire, with an uneasy laugh.

"It will blow over by dinner-time; he didn't eat much breakfast, and hunger is a potent agent to bring an enemy to terms," philosophized Doc.

"Well good-by, boys, for I must be off to camp." The young surveyor rose, shouldered his kit, and stood in the doorway. "Take care of yourself, Doc. Don't let Ed do any cooking until he gets over his pet, or he might poison us, in good earnest; "saying which, the young man turned his face toward the western prairie, whistling gayly as he went.

"Flag's a good fellow," said Doc, thoughtfully; "long may he wave!"

CHAPTER III.

THE TRAGEDY IN THE TIMBER.

The beauty of this May morning seemed to have called abroad every thing animate. Birds sung merrily from the neighboring woodland-the sly and graceful prairie-wolf leaped noiselessly through the grass within a few rods of the passer-by—great, fat, lazy and harmless snakes lay coiled up in pairs on the sunniest banks, and already small yellow butterflies fluttered around the wild pinks, larkspurs and honeysuckles.

Henry Edwards and Fredrick. Allen, the Doc and Squire of the foregoing chapter, could not restrain their pleasure as they trod buoyantly along the way to their claim. Their path lay along a ridge of the bluffs which divides the prairie from the timber land; on one side an ocean of green land billows; on the other a sloping forest, going down, down, for a mile of irregular descent, until it came to the banks of the mighty Missouri, glimpses of which could be seen here and there, through long green vistas made by ravines traversing the bluffs in a downward direction to the river. The sky had that beautiful azure hue which denotes a pure atmosphere; -the sun shone brilliantly; and to the two young men who sung, and laughed, and shouted as they walked, with axes slung over their shoulders that never felt the weight, life seemed a festival, bare existence a rich delight.

There was another young creasure abroad that morning who felt "glad that she was alive." Having prepared her father's early morning meal, as the night before directed, and put the simple furniture of the cabin in order, Alicia had come out with her basket to gather strawberries, thousands of baskets of which were lying in luscious ripeness among the hazel-bushes that skirted the prairie. Nothing could have been more entirely appropriate as a crowning beauty to the May-morning landscape, than this young English beauty. The simple, flowing dress, the pretty straw hat, the scarlet shawl crossed over the girlish bosom and tied behind, to be out of the way of the bushes—these first caught the eyes and fixed the admiring gaze of the young men on their way to dispute boundaries with her father.

Alicia Newcome was not personally known to either of them, though the fame of her beauty, which was spread abroad among the settlers, had already reached their ears. A nearer view of, the face, half hidden in soft flaxen curls and shadowed by the wide straw hat, left no doubt who was the charming strawberry-girl they found it necessary to pass, though with never so much reluctance.

With a courteous salute, the young men walked past, each wishing in his heart he had some good excuse for speaking to the lovely child-woman—for so she looked—yet not venturing to abash the gentle modesty that breathed from her very figure; and had gone on but a few paces, when a cry of alarm suddenly arrested their steps, and caused both to hasten back to the spot where Alicia was standing, spell-bound with terror.

Two immense serpents, coiled together into a mound of frightful dimensions and appearance, explained the occasion of her alarm.

"They are quite harmless, Miss—Miss Newcome, I presume?" began Fred Allen.

Alicia drew a long breath. "Oh, I beg your pardon, sirs, for interrupting your walk, but I am so timid about snakes, and don't know a harmless one from one that is venomous."

This was said while the three hurried rapidly away from the ugly-looking coil.

"It is no wonder you were frightened, I am sure," the Doctor rejoined. "I never fail to be startled at every form of serpent, whether fanged or not. Pray, let me carry your basket, for I perceive you are still trembling."

" Oh, no, sir, I thank you. It is not large enough to be heavy; and not half full either," she added, smiling. "I don't think I shall fill it to-day."

"For fear of nmore frights? Let us see if you have enough for dinner," said Allen, smilingly taking the basket from her hands. " Why, no; here is not half a basketful, sure enough. There are plenty of them over on my claim, close by. The Doctor, here, and myself could soon fill it foryou, if you will allow us."

A look of frightened perplexity came over Alicia's before untroubled face,'and pausing instantly, she extended her hand for the basket.

"No, no; you are very kind, but I cannot trouble you so much." Then seeing that the young men were surprised at the sudden change in her manner, she seemed to take a rapid mental survey of her situation, and eagerly continued, in tones of childlike earnestness: "For you are the gentlemen, are you not, whom my -father is disputing boundaries with? I don't know who is right. I think it very likely my falther may be wrong-he is hasty —but-oh, sirs, I fear something sad will happen if the dispute goes any further."

Her evident apprehension, and the tearful pathos of her glance, as she concluded the last sentence, affected the young men visibly, though it was only through sympathy.

"Do not be alarmed on your father's account, Miss Newcome," Allen sald, gently.' I give you my word that I shall not use violence ii -this quarrel."

"It is not my intention, either, to do so," added the Doctor.

"I am very much afraid;" murmured the young girl, sadly. "I ought not to conceal from you that my father is in a terrible passion, and that he took his gun with him this morning."

"Then," said Allen, affecting an indifference he did not feel, "your father is safe, and it is only we who are in danger; for we, you perceive, are not armed."

The child was not used to argument, nor to express her own convictions very often; therefore she gave for- answer not words indeed, but such a look of touching appeal as was better than a whole chapter of logic. Allen felt his heart give a great bound in-answer to it.

"If you will let us fill your basket with berries, and go home contented with our peaceable intentions, I think I may promise you a happy settlement of the present difficulties. What do you say, Doctor?"

"That I shall be very happy to help bring about the promised settlement."

Thus urged, the young girl complied pleasantly. She secretly thought, besides, that delay was in this case net " dangerous," but, on the contrary, might prove a means of conciliation, by giving her father time to cool his anger, in the bright morning air. Cheered by this hope, her native graciousness of manner returned to her, and she received the heaped up basket with mirthful thanks.

"Good-morning now, Miss Newcome," Allen had replied; "perhaps your father may invite me home with him, to help eat them."

"I hope he may," was the fervent rejoinder; the echo of which answer rung in Allen's ears, and lit, also, a half-conscious blush on the cheek of the fair child herself, as she remembered her father's taunts of the previous evening, and feared she had been too forward in conversing with these strangers.

In a somewhat altered mood, the young men proceeded on their morning walk, and arrived at the disputed boundary in time to find their stakes already removed, and new ones placed where they cut off a valuable portion of their claim. This alteration prevented their prairie and timber land from joining, as it did before, and spoiled the shapeliness of the claim. The first impulse of either was a disposition to fight it out by force, if necessary-for they had the claim-laws on their side-but, upon remembering their promise to the timid child they had just parted from, a better resolution replaced the promptings of passion.

"All we can do in the premises," said Allen, "is to pull up these stakes, as Newcome has done, and put them back in their former places."

"Agreed," answered the Doctor. "I don't see any other way."

For half an hour the young men worked uninterruptedly; but, coming to the border of the timber, they then perceived Newcome, leaning against a tree, and carefully watching their proceedings. Resolving to take no notice of him unless first addressed, they continued pulling up and laying the stakes opposite the spot where he, stood.

"You'll find your labor lost, gentlemen," he remarked, grinning maliciously.

"Very well; we can repeat this game as often as you can," was the Doctor's impulsive reply.

"You may repeat it once too often!" retorted the Englishman.

"Do you threaten me?" asked the Doctor, angrily.

"Remember our promise, Doc," muttered Allen, so as not to be heard by the other. "Let the obstinate dog go: he may do you some mischief."

"If I don't threaten I may execute," said Newcome, with an ugly sneer.

Allen now saw that this war of words was likely to continue to an unprofitable length, and desiring to cover the Doctor's irritation, he hastened to put in a reply before his friend could do so.

"We don't think, Mr. Newcome, that you will do any thing violent or unlawful. If we can not settle this difficulty between ourselves, we can take it before the claim-club, or into a court, if you choose."

"No, you don't get me into law, my fine gentlemen! I know very well where my rights would go to, in that case. Folks of your profession are not troubled with too much honesty, and I prefer to settle my own difficulties."

"Take care what you say!" cried the Doctor, whose blood—Irish blood it was—was roused.

"Pshaw! don't mind the poor fool!" muttering which contemptuous expression Allen turned away, but not in time to have escaped a blow with a heavy stick, had it not been averted by the Doctor, who struck up the cudgel with the ax he carried in his hand, and which in descending just grazed the arm of Newcome.

The man's eyes fairly blazed with malice, and instinctively he clutched and half raised his gun, which hitherto had rested against the tree.

"Take care, Newcome! don't shoot!" exclaimed Allen, hastily. "I apologize for my discourteous language, which you were so unwise as to provoke. Let this business stop here, before it comes to something we should all regret;"

"I shouldn't apologize—I'd have the man arrested," cried the Doctor, passionately.

"Have me arrested if you dare!" hissed Newcome, through his clenched teeth. Saying which, he laid his gun on his arm, and stalked into the woods.

The young men stood conversing for a few minutes, undecided what course to pursue with so desperate an enemy, when sharp and loud came two distinct reports, almost in the same moment, and the Doctor fell to the ground, exclaiming, as he fell:

"Allen! my God, I'm shot!"

For a short interval of time the young man was so distracted by the loss of his friend as not to know what course to pursue. But seeing at last that the Doctor had really ceased to live, the necessity of doing something to secure his murderer suggested itself; and despairing of success single-handed in such an undertaking, he set out rapidly for the trading-post, as the nearest point at which help could be obtained.

Soon the whole settlement was engaged in the pursuit, if pursuit it could be called, for the culprit had made no effort to escape, but was found still in the woods, near the spot where the murder was committed. The man eyed those who came to arrest him at first with a defiant scorn; but when told that he was accused of the willful murder of Dr. Henry Edwards, he gave a terrified start, and drooped his head forward as if smitten with a sudden mortal pang.

The dead body of Edwards was conveyed to Fairview, the county town, and laid out in the room where the examination was to be held, before one of the district judges.

CHAPTER IV.

THE EXAMINATION.

When Allen, who was the accuser of Newcome, was asked if there were any other witnesses to appear at the preliminary trial of the man, he was forced, very much against his own feelings, to name Alicia Newcome as the only person who could, to his certain knowledge, give important evidence in the case. There were others, no doubt, who knew of the hostile feelings of the prisoner toward the murdered man, and himself also; and such persons were publicly asked to come forward and give in their evidence. As for the prisoner's daughter, it seemed cruel to oblige her to testify against her own father, and that she might not be too much alarmed at the summons, he proposed to go first and break the news to her.

The cabin of Thomas Newcome stood in the center of a clearing, on the sloping face of the bluff, overlooking the Iowa side of the river, and affording a glorious view up and down the Missouri for miles. The little square patch of cleared ground was walled about on three sides by thick woods, which living wall was everywhere festooned with wild grape-vines diffusing a delicious perfume. Below the house, along the path to the river, were clumps of wild plum-trees and gooseberry bushes, mixed with raspberry and elder, the fruit already defined in shape, and promising an abundant harvest.

The cabin's young mistress was busy preparing the midday meal, yet making frequent pauses in her work to stand in the little rustic porch shading the door, and gaze at the shining river, the exquisite blue of the sky, the luxuriant foliage of the spring—bursting out in song every now and then, as she thought what a glorious thing it is to live in such a world.

As Allen approached the house he caught the sound of the birdlike singing, and it almost paralyzed his limbs; for how could he so soon change that happy music to cries of anguish? He knew she was flitting back and forth, and round and about, for he could notice the changes in the sound of her voice as she did so. Just as he reached the porch, she had flitted to the door for another glance at the beautiful May landscape and smiling heavens, her flaxen curls prettily disordered by exercise, and such roses blushing on her cheeks as only blossom Out of English complexions, or our.Jew England ones.

This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is licensed under Creative Commons - Attribution - Sharealike. Additional terms may apply for the media files.