Part 45

“From the ravine we managed to get into a small forest, without, as we thought, being seen by any one. In the forest we could walk erect, but we had great fears of meeting some one of the soldiers who belonged to the station, and might be astir to select wood for cutting. We pushed along, and luckily encountered no one; and by the time the sun was up, we were more than a mile from the place where we had dug our way to freedom. We walked in silence, stopping now and then to look around in all directions. We had nearly as much fear of meeting any one as we had of being pursued, since an encounter with a soldier or Cossack would give the alarm of our flight, and pursuit would then be a question of only a few hours at farthest.

[Sidenote: KINDNESS OF SIBERIAN PEASANTS.]

“Two miles or more from the station, we reached the house of a peasant, or rather the edge of the clearing where he was settled. We dared not approach the house; but we knew that we should find means to save the provisions we carried, as there was pretty sure to be a turnip-patch in its vicinity, where we could help ourselves. The Siberian peasants show great kindness to escaping exiles. They never speak of them as exiles or prisoners, but as ‘_chasti ludi_,’ or ‘unfortunates.’ Frequently they put loaves of bread outside their windows, in such position that they cannot be stolen by dogs, though easily taken by men. A hungry fugitive can thus help himself without fear of detection; and when the peasant rises in the morning, and finds the bread gone, he crosses himself devoutly, and breathes a prayer for the successful journey of the fugitive. ‘God will help him,’ he says, ‘and speed him on to safety.’ Frequently they plant patches of turnips at a little distance from their houses; and these turnip-patches are specially consecrated to feeding the unfortunates. And if no special field is set apart for his use, the exile knows that he can help himself to whatever vegetables will satisfy his hunger, and the owner will make no complaint.

“We found a small garden, where turnips and other vegetables were growing, and we did not hesitate to take what we wanted. A man came from the house, and I think he saw what was going on; but he pretended the most perfect indifference, and walked back again. Only two of us entered the garden; the rest remained in the edge of the forest, and waited for the two to gather what was needed for all. After taking a couple of turnips for each man, we moved away, and travelled in a westerly direction a little distance from the valley of the river. And now we began to debate about the best plan for our future action. How should we travel? Should we separate? And, if so, into how many parties? And what direction should we take? These were the questions that troubled us.

“The Siberians have a proverb, ‘He who runs away has but one road; he who pursues has ten.’ Several hours must elapse before our flight would be discovered, and when it was known, it would take some time to find where we had gone. But we were three thousand miles from Poland, and all except the two Russian criminals spoke Russian so poorly that we could not disguise ourselves effectually. All along this road there were military posts and soldiers, and in the towns we should be likely to pass there were the local police. Our number was so large that it would excite suspicion at the very first station we passed; and the probabilities were, that if we kept together, and attempted to travel on the great road, we should all be retaken within three days. Plainly, this was not our proper course.

“We held a consultation, and each man was told to advance his views.

[Sidenote: PLANS OF ACTION.]

“One plan which was offered was, that we should keep together, and push southward into the Altai Mountains, trusting to subsist on fish caught from the streams, and on whatever game we could kill with our guns. The mountains are quite unsettled, and game is abundant; so that the plan was a good one, so far as existence went, provided we could make our ammunition hold out. But we had only ten charges for each gun, and these would soon be exhausted. We might set traps, and catch game in them; but this would involve delay, and render our progress very slow. South of the Altai Mountains we should be out of Russian territory, and among the wild Kirghese and Tartar tribes. Among these we could travel westward till we reached the Caspian Sea. Crossing that body of water, we should be in Circassia, and might have reasonable hopes, if we reached it in safety, of ultimately seeing our homes. But the way was long and dangerous; the Tartars are treacherous, and might convert us into slaves, or sell us back into Russian hands. After a brief debate it was decided not to adopt this course.

“Another plan was to break into parties of two or four, and attempt to travel by night, while lying concealed during the day. We had almost resolved upon this, when I thought of a feasible scheme, which I proposed. It met a ready concurrence, and was at once adopted.

“‘All roads will be watched,’ I said; ‘and if we break into parties, and move on at once, some of us will be caught. Let us move south into the mountains, and find a place where we can pass the winter. We can trap game enough for our winter support, and can make a tolerable shelter by piling up stones, and roofing them over with trees. We will keep together till spring, and can find a secluded place where we shall not be liable to be discovered. We have no passports, and cannot travel without them; and my scheme includes an arrangement for getting them. In the spring we will leave our hiding-place, and break up into parties of three. Our beards will have grown out by that time, so that we shall not be recognized as prisoners, and our hair will be long enough to cut in the Russian style. Then we can go to the private mines, and hire out as laborers during the summer, and by the end of summer we shall be able to travel without much fear of detection. We can pretend to having lost our passports, and the certificate of our discharge from the mine where we were employed will be sufficient for us until we get out of the province. After that we can get along somehow; at all events we can stay a couple of years in the mines, and then obtain papers that will carry us in comparative safety where we want to go. It may take us two or three years to reach Poland, but we shall certainly be better off than by running the risk of recapture.’

“When our plan was settled, we all knelt and prayed for success. We observed the direction of the sun, and travelled towards the south, keeping well away from the river valley, where we could see the only settlements which the region contains. We made good speed that day, and halted at night in a little glen surrounded by high rocks, and affording an excellent place for concealment. From a small stream near by we caught a few fish, and as each man had carefully preserved the provisions brought from the station, and eaten nothing but the two turnips obtained in the morning, we had no immediate fear of starvation.

[Sidenote: CONTINUING THE JOURNEY.]

“Early in the morning we continued our journey. No incident of importance occurred during the day, and at night we halted in a place much like the one where we had last slept.

“On the third day we saw mountains in the distance, and knew that they were some of the peaks of the outlying chain of the Altai range; but they were a long distance away, and seemed to recede as we approached them. We pressed forward as fast as possible, though some of us were in danger of falling through exhaustion. Our feet were sore, as we had long been unused to travel, and on the fourth night we concluded to rest a day or two to gather strength. We dared not light a fire through fear of discovery, and so we passed the cool hours between sunset and sunrise closely huddled together, and shivering till our teeth chattered with pain. We made rude beds of boughs, and slept on them as best we could; but our sufferings were so severe that we shuddered at thought of the winter that was coming, and more than once several of us wished we were back again in prison. The day of our halt was passed in sleep, two of our number being kept at watch, to warn us of the approach of any one who might discover us.

[Sidenote: DISCOVERED BY A TRAVELLER.]

“Towards evening a man was seen approaching our retreat. The murderer convict, whom I will call Egar, was on the watch at the time, and with him was one of my compatriots. A low whistle from Egar warned us, and we all sprang to our feet. I hoped the man would pass without seeing us, and consequently we would not have occasion to harm him; but fate willed it otherwise. He came directly towards our retreat: had he stopped, and turned back, when within twenty feet, he might have escaped, as we stood among the rocks in such a way that only a near view would reveal us. As he passed the spot were Egar was crouching behind a rock, the latter sprang forward and seized the stranger by the throat. There was a struggle, in which both fell, and we rushed to the assistance of our companion. Egar seized a stone, and was about crushing the head of his antagonist, when the other watchman seized his arm.

“‘Let me kill him; let me kill him,’ screamed Egar.

“The other held him, and in a moment all of us were at his side.

“‘No blood: no blood,’ was our united demand; ‘or, at least,’ said I, ‘let us do no murder. If the man must die for having found us, let us give him a little time for preparation.’

“We released the stranger from the hands of Egar, and assisted him to his feet. He was half stunned, and I saw that he was greatly frightened, as indeed he had reason to be.

“‘I give myself up,’ he said, as soon as he could speak.

“‘Where are you from?’ I asked.

“‘From the Petrovsky mine,’ he replied.

“‘When did you leave it?’

“‘Three weeks ago.’

“‘Where have you been during that time?’

“‘Hiding in the forest, and among the rocks; but take me back, and I will not resist.’

“‘Well, come along,’ I said, in a tone of authority; and we led him to the place we had just left.

“Two of us held the muskets over our prisoner, while I questioned him closely, and found that he was, like ourselves, escaping from captivity. When fully satisfied of the truth of his story, I nodded to my companions, and told him our true character.

[Sidenote: MUTUAL ASTONISHMENT.]

“He opened his eyes in astonishment, and then fell on his knees, to thank Heaven that he was yet free. Of course he was added to our party, though Egar urged that it was the safest plan to put him to death, and thus prevent the possibility of his escaping and giving information of our movements.

“But all the rest were opposed to such a bloody deed, as we shrunk from killing a fellow-being, and besides, were satisfied that the man told the truth.

“In the morning we changed our position to a more secluded spot, as we naturally thought there was danger that others might wander in the same direction as the new comer. We rested the entire day, and were sufficiently recovered to push on. Just as we were about starting, our lookout saw, in the early light, a couple of horsemen riding up the valley. They were followed by two other horsemen at a short distance, and we naturally concluded that they were pursuing us. So we remained concealed, and, four or five hours later, we saw the men returning, as if they had abandoned the search. I say, we saw them, but, in fact, only one of our number did so, as the rest lay concealed among the rocks. As soon as they were out of sight, we moved forward, and made a good day’s progress, notwithstanding the loss of the morning hours.

“We were in a wild country, where settlements were few, and none of them extended beyond the valley of the river. We dared not approach any of these for fear of giving indications of our whereabouts; we could trust the peasants in most instances, but of course there might be, now and then, one who would betray us. Some of the settlers in this region are Cossacks, and these have not usually any sympathy with the exiles, but would capture or kill them with little compunction. ‘Shoot a rabbit, and you get his skin,’ says a Cossack proverb; ‘but shoot a _varnak_ (vagabond), and you get skin, pelisse, and overcoat.’

[Sidenote: HOW THE WANDERERS LIVED.]

“We lived upon fish from the small streams, upon edible roots which we found occasionally, and upon the remnants of our provisions brought from the mine. We resorted, in a few instances, to theft, at the suggestion of Egar and the man he had captured. A strange sort of friendship sprang up between them, and they went together on several enterprises for our common support. At night they would descend to a farm, whenever one was within reach, and would generally manage to bring away a lamb or pig, which would be immediately killed and cooked. We made fires at night only, and always in such a way that the light was not visible for any distance; but this mode of supply was precarious, and whenever we obtained anything by it we were careful to preserve our provisions as long as possible.

“Among the outlying hills of the Altai we left the settlements altogether, and depended entirely upon our own resources. Now and then there were villages or encampments of the Tartar inhabitants of the region, but we avoided them altogether, though occasionally stealing a sheep from them. These Tartars have large flocks of sheep, and are not very watchful of them; so that a theft was comparatively easy, with the exception of the danger of discovery by the dogs, which are always kept around an encampment. Several times Egar returned empty-handed from his expedition, and severely anathematized the dogs for interfering with what he considered a legitimate pursuit.

“With many hardships, but with no adventures of importance, we reached a sheltered place in the mountains, where we thought we would be safe from pursuit, and established ourselves for the winter. We found a glen containing a grove of larches and firs, and on three sides the rocks were precipitous and overhanging. The entrance was narrow, and could be easily defended, and in one place there was an opening in the rocks which we could easily roof over to form a house. The glen was full of hares and other small animals; Egar and his new friend were skilful in constructing traps, and we at once set at work to lay in a supply of food. Egar, in one of his expeditions in search of sheep, had stolen an axe, which proved of great service to us in many ways. We made a comfortable shelter, where we could live; our beds were of boughs cut from the trees, and we soon gathered a sufficient quantity of skins from the animals we caught to make a good supply of coverlets and winter clothing. We desired to save our ordinary clothing for future use. The suits we wore in prison were the common garments of the peasantry, and the only mark to indicate our character was a number sewed upon the right shoulder. This we had carefully removed, so that we could readily pass for peasants.

[Sidenote: KILLED AMONG THE ROCKS.]

“The winter came on, and proved of unusual mildness. The snows were light, and we were well sheltered, so that we did not suffer. We trapped game, and hunted occasionally among the hills, but were very careful of our ammunition, so that we relied almost entirely upon our traps. On several occasions we ran down the _argal_, or mountain sheep, and frightened them into attempting to jump a ravine too wide for their strength. They fell upon the rocks, and were killed by the force of the fall. But we found this mode of hunting very dangerous, and once it resulted fatally. Serge Ponitsky, one of my countrymen, was pursuing an argal over the rocks, and half a dozen others of our party were shouting to the animal in order that he might keep in the desired direction. Serge was close upon the argal, and in his excitement did not observe that he was near the edge of a high cliff. Suddenly the brute stopped, and wheeled around. Serge waved his cap to make him continue in the way he ought to go, but he had made up his mind not to keep on. Serge then seized him by the horns,—not thinking of the great strength of the animal,—and the two struggled for a few moments; in their struggles they went near the edge of the precipice, and suddenly rolled over it.

“We scrambled to the foot of the cliff as soon as possible, our hearts full of fear for the result. We found the argal dead, and Serge lying upon him. Both his legs were broken, several of his ribs were crushed, and as I bent over and took his hand, I heard him faintly pronounce the words ‘home’ and ‘Poland.’ He then became unconscious, and five minutes later he was dead.

[Sidenote: A SAD SEPARATION.]

“We buried him near our camping-place, covering the grave with heavy stones, and erecting a cross above it. The event cast a gloom over our party, and for several days no one cared to venture into the mountains. After this accident we were more cautious, and nothing of a serious nature occurred during the rest of the winter.

“In the spring we divided into twos and threes, as previously arranged, and left our camp. We drew lots to settle the order of departure, as it was arranged that the divisions should start at least two days apart, so that there would be little risk of their encountering each other, and attracting attention by their numbers. Our parting was tearful, as we had been endeared to each other by our mutual experience of peril, and it was certain that we should never again be united. My lot fell to the third division, and though I live a thousand years I shall never forget the morning when I embraced those I was leaving behind me, and set out to encounter dangers that I could not foresee. Silently with my two companions I left the camp, and for more than two hours neither of us could utter a word.

“We travelled on and on to the settlements on the Yenesei, subsisting as we had subsisted at the time of our escape. At one of the private mines we obtained work during the summer; laborers were scarce, and the proprietors were quite willing to engage us without asking any questions that might annoy us.

[Sidenote: HOME AT LAST.]

“At the end of the summer we were paid off. A few days before our payment we managed to drop some worthless papers into a fire where several men, among them one of the superintendents, could see us. We pretended to be in great distress, that the papers were our passports, and that we had nothing else for our protection. The chief of the mine consequently made certificates to the loss of our papers by accident, and the certificates were sufficient for our protection. During the winter and early spring, we managed to travel to the Ural Mountains, where we again hired out for the summer. In this way we obtained money enough to take us to Poland, where we arrived three years after the date of our escape.

“What became of the rest of our party I have never positively known. Two of them have reached Poland, as I am informed; and I have heard vague rumors that some of the others were captured, and returned to the servitude from which they had escaped. But no direct tidings from any of them have ever reached me.”

XLI.

LEAD MINES OF IOWA.

BLUFFS AT DUBUQUE, IOWA.—THE LEAD MINES.—HOW LEAD IS FOUND THERE.—INDIAN DISCOVERIES.—HOW THE SECRET BECAME KNOWN.—STORY OF THE SIX INDIANS.—FOLLOWING THEIR TRACKS.—AN INDIAN TRAITOR.—AN EXPLORER’S ADVENTURE.—THE INDIAN GUIDE AND THE GREAT SPIRIT.—MURDER OF TWO EXPLORERS.—USES OF ABANDONED SHAFTS AND CAVES.—AN EDITOR’S DISCOVERY.—AN UNDERGROUND BANQUET.—UPS AND DOWNS OF A LEAD MINER.—DEATH OR A FORTUNE.—A DANGEROUS BLOW.—A MINUTE OF GREAT PERIL.

On the Upper Mississippi, in the vicinity of Dubuque, Iowa, there are many lead mines, and in the vicinity of these mines the bluffs contain numerous caverns, rarely of great extent. Sometimes these caverns are in the form of a succession of chambers extending and opening into one another; and in these chambers rich deposits of ore are found. Several years ago the author visited Dubuque and the region around it, and was kindly escorted by one of the citizens, Mr. Henry W. Pettit, in an examination of the natural and artificial curiosities of the place. We had a wearying tramp, and returned to the hotel covered with dust, accumulated in our inspection of shafts, tunnels, caves, and other underground works of nature or art. I was under the impression that if we had been reduced in a furnace, a fair amount of lead could have been obtained by the reducer; and lest some enterprising resident should make an effort in that direction, we washed off the accumulation as speedily as possible.

[Sidenote: AN INDIAN SECRET.]

The lead mines of Dubuque were discovered and opened soon after the settlement of the place by Julien Dubuque, after whom the city was named. The Indians were aware of the existence of the rich mineral, and the first information about it was obtained from one of the red-skinned gentlemen who had partaken rather freely of the white man’s fire-water. They used to bring lead to sell to the whites; they revealed some of the localities whence they obtained it, and then their white neighbors went to work to dig for themselves. But there was one deposit, supposed to be the richest of all, that the Indians would never reveal, if the story was told to me correctly. There were half a dozen Indians who used to appear and disappear mysteriously; whenever they wanted money or goods, they would go away a few days, and return with all the lead they could carry. All efforts to induce them to tell where they obtained it were of no avail. The experiment was tried repeatedly of getting them drunk, but the more they got drunk, the more uncommunicative they became. They were promised that if they would show the rich deposit, they should never again be required to draw a sober breath as long as they lived; but even this glittering bait did not allure. Wealth, fame, and perpetual intoxication could have been theirs, but they preferred to bask in the sunshine of the smiles of the Great Spirit, who would be unpardoningly angry if they told their secret to the white man.

A watch was set upon their movements; but an Indian is proverbially a troublesome customer to the detective who tries to follow him, and the spies on the track of these aborigines invariably came to grief. Finally, one of the pale-faces pressed his arguments so far as to induce an Indian to agree to turn traitor to his brethren, and reveal the locality of the lead mine. Comfortably soaked with whiskey, the twain started, with provisions for several days’ journey. The Indian led the way to a secluded spot among the hills, miles away from any human habitation. All around in this little valley there were the remains of fires where the Indians had melted out the lead from the ore; it was so rich that a common wood fire in the open air was quite sufficient for its reduction.

But suddenly the Indian stopped, and looked anxiously into the sky. After gazing there a full minute, he turned to his companion, and refused to show him further.

“Go on, go on!” said the impatient explorer.

“No; not go on,” replied the Indian. “Great Spirit angry; I see him looking now.”

[Sidenote: A FRIGHTENED ABORIGINAL.]

The explorer looked, but could see no spirit beyond that which he carried in his bottle. He offered some of it to the Indian, in the hope of overcoming his terror.

But it was “no go” with the red man. He took the proffered drink, and then looked again into the sky. Evidently he saw, or fancied he saw, the Great Spirit frowning upon him, for he turned on his heel, and ran faster than he had ever been known to run before.