Chapter 12

'To Augustus P.,' was the immediate reply.

I smothered my rising indignation the best I could, and proudly returned the smile of malignant joy my rival gave me.

'Perhaps I can engage it for a second set,' I calmly replied.

'Mr. P. has engaged it for the entire evening,' she pettishly replied, and rising and taking his hand they took their station upon the floor.

I remained thunderstruck and rooted to the spot, until I saw the eyes of my hated rival fixed upon me, and, throwing off the spell that bound me, I assumed a proud, cold look. As I swept by the dancers, Eveline paused for a moment when just beside me, and, bending close to her ear, I whispered, 'Eveline, farewell forever.'

She turned slightly pale, and asked, 'when?'

'To-night, I join the army for Mexico,' I firmly replied.

A deep flush passed haughtily across her brow, and then waving her hand gracefully, she replied, 'Go,' and glided through the mazes of the dance.

I rushed from the spot, and never paused until I had entered the recruiting office, and offered myself a candidate for the army.

'Are you a good, moral man, of well-regulated habits?' asked the sergeant.

'Can give a hundred certificates, if necessary, I hastily replied.

'I rather think you'll do,' said the officer with a smile, and he enrolled me as a soldier. 'When do you wish to leave?'

'Now--to-night--to-morrow--any time,' I eagerly answered.

'Promptness is a good quality, you will make a good soldier. Get ready to start at eight o'clock in the morning, for Newport, Ky.'

'I will be ready,' and, rushing from the room, I hastened home, packed up my things, and threw myself down on the bed to sleep. But it was impossible. Heavy thoughts were crowding my mind with lightning speed, and I resolved to depart the next day, without bidding adieu to father or mother, sister or brother; but feeling a deep respect, which I held for my father's advice, would prevail and I should be induced to remain at home. I made the resolve and carried it out. The next morning I was at the office by seven o'clock, was furnished with a suit of regimentals, and departed for the railroad depot to start for Wheeling. As I hurried along, who should turn the corner of the street but Eveline, and we met for the last time on earth. I informed her of my intentions, and, without manifesting any disposition of regret at my departure, she gaily said: "'Good bye, and may good luck attend you,' and she glided away.

"A new fuel was added to my desire to hasten from such scenes; and I had soon left the town for the Ohio. I will not weary you with further details, as my breath is failing fast. Suffice it to say I arrived in Mexico, and, here I am, perishing by inches upon the battle-field.

"Here," he continued, "is a ring," taking one from his finger, and presenting it to me, "which was given me by Eveline as a bond of our marriage contract. I have worn it ever since, and, as I told her then, 'it shall leave me but with my death,' Take it to her, when you get back, and, if she be not married, give it to her, and tell her he who sent it never forgot her for a single moment, even in his dying hour, and is lying beneath the clods of a foreign soil. This Bible, give back to my father, and tell him I have studied its precepts: to my mother and sisters, say that I have sent them a son's and brother's dying love; tell my brothers to beware of human strife."

He faltered in his speech, and then murmuring, "I am going," pressed my hand feebly and expired. I dug a lone grave upon the field, and laid him to "sleep his last sleep," until that day when all shall be summoned to a final account.

One year rolled on, and how chequered by passing events! Chapultepec had fallen, the city of Mexico was taken, and peace, thrice glorious peace, had waved her pinions over the land of war. The volunteers were joyfully hastening to their homes, and, among the rest, I once more trod my native land, a freeman again in heart and soul. A spell of sickness at first confined me several weeks, but at length I rose wearied and feeble from my bed, and my physicians recommended a change of air. I traveled into Virginia, and one evening I entered the town of G----h. I inquired for the family of my friend, and was directed to a fine-looking building upon the principal street. I advanced and rang the bell, and anxiously waited an answer. At length the door opened, and an old grey-headed man stood before me, the lines of his face marked by care, and his whole appearance betokened one who had a deep grief at heart.

"Mr. ----, I presume?" said I, bowing.

"The same, sir; won't you walk in?" replied the old man, politely.

I entered the house, and was soon seated in the parlor, when the old man started to leave the room.

"I have something of importance for your private ear," said I, hastily.

He turned towards me, and taking the Bible from my pocket, I held it up to view. Quicker than thought, the aged father sprang forward, caught the book in his hand, and murmured, as the tears fell slowly over his aged cheeks:

"My son, my son, you bring news of him."

"I do, but it is very bad," I answered, my voice trembling as I spoke, and I retold to him the scenes upon the battle-field.

When I had finished, the old man clasped his hands in agony, and, raising his eyes toward the ceiling, exclaimed, in deep and fervent tones, "God's will be done!"

At this moment, a young lady of pale, care-worn countenance entered the parlor, and, rising, I said, "Miss Eveline ----, I believe?"

"The same," she calmly replied.

As her eyes glanced at the ring, which I silently presented, she stretched forth her hand, grasped it convulsively, then fell suddenly forward upon the carpet, the blood oozing rapidly from her mouth. The terrible ordeal had broken a blood-vessel, and her spirit passed unchecked to another world.

A plain, marble slab, in the graveyard of the town of G----h, upon which is engraved the lone word, "Eveline," marks the last resting place of the betrothed of the Dying Volunteer.

ESCAPE FROM A MEXICAN QUICKSAND

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.

A few days afterward, another adventure befell me; and I began to think I was destined to become a hero among the "mountain men."

A small party of the traders--myself among the number--had pushed forward ahead of the caravan. Our object was to arrive at Santa Fé a day or two before the wagons, in order to have every thing arranged with the governor for their entrance into the capital. We took the route by the Cimmaron.

Our road, for a hundred miles or so, lay through a barren desert, without game, and almost without water. The buffalo had all disappeared, and deer were equally scarce. We had to content ourselves on the dried meat which we had brought from the settlements. We were in the deserts of the artemisia. Now and then we could see a stray antelope bounding away before us, but keeping far out of range. They, too, seemed to be unusually shy.

On the third day after leaving the caravan, as we were riding near the Cimmaron, I thought I observed a pronged head disappearing behind a swell in the prairie. My companions were skeptical, and none of them would go with me; so, wheeling out of trail, I started alone. One of them--for Gode was behind--kept charge of my dog, as I did not choose to take him with me, lest he might alarm the antelopes. My horse was fresh and willing; and, whether successful or not, I knew I could easily overtake the party by camping-time.

I struck directly toward the spot where I had seen the object. It appeared to be only half a mile or so from the trail. It proved more distant--a common illusion in the crystal atmosphere of these upland regions.

A curiously formed ridge, traversed the plain from east to west. A thicket of cactus covered part of its summit. Toward the thicket I directed myself.

I dismounted at the bottom of the slope, and leading my horse silently up among the cactus plants, tied him to one of their branches. I then cautiously crept through the thorny leaves toward the point where I fancied I had seen the game. To my joy, not one antelope, but a brace of those beautiful animals, was quietly grazing beyond; but alas! too far off for the carry of my rifle. They were fully three hundred yards distant, upon a smooth, grassy slope. There was not even a sage bush to cover me, should I attempt to approach them. What was to be done?

I lay for several minutes, thinking over the different tricks, known in hunter craft, for taking the antelope. Should I imitate their call? Should I hoist my handkerchief and try to lure them up? I saw that they were too shy; for, at short intervals, they threw up their graceful heads, and looked inquiringly around them. I remembered the red blanket on my saddle. I could display this upon the cactus-bushes, perhaps it would attract them.

I had no alternative; and was turning to go back for the blanket; when, all at once, my eye rested upon a clay-colored line, running across the prairie, beyond where the animals were feeding. It was a break in the plain, a buffalo road, or the channel of an _arroyo_, in either case, the very cover I wanted, for the animals were not a hundred yards from it; and were getting still nearer to it as they fed.

Creeping back out of the thicket, I ran along the side of the slope toward a point, where I had noticed that the ridge was depressed to the prairie level. Here, to my surprise, I found myself on the banks of a broad arroyo, whose water, clear and shallow, ran slowly over a bed of sand and gypsum.

The banks were low, not over three feet above the surface of the water, except where the ridge impinged upon the stream. Here there was a high bluff; and, hurrying around its base, I entered the channel, and commenced wading upward.

As I had anticipated, I soon came to a bend where the stream, after running parallel to the ridge, swept around and canoned through it. At this place I stopped, and looked cautiously over the bank. The antelopes had approached within less than rifle range of the arroyo; but they were yet far above my position. They were still quietly feeding, and unconscious of danger. I again bent down and waded on.

It was a difficult task proceeding in this way. The bed of the creek was soft and yielding, and I was compelled to tread slowly and silently, lest I should alarm the game; but I was cheered in my exertions by the prospect of fresh venison for my supper.

After a weary drag of several hundred yards, I came opposite to a small clump of wormwood bushes, growing out of the bank. "I may be high enough," thought I, "these will serve for cover."

I raised my body gradually, until I could see through the leaves. I was in the right spot. I brought my rifle to a level; sighted for the heart of the buck, and fired. The animal leaped from the ground, and fell back lifeless. I was about to rush forward, and secure my prize, when I observed the doe, instead of running off as I expected, go up to her fallen partner, and press her tapering nose to his body. She was not more than twenty yards from me, and I could plainly see that her look was one of inquiry and bewilderment. All at once, she seemed to comprehend the fatal truth; and, throwing back her head, commenced uttering the most piteous cries, at the same time running in circles around the body.

I stood wavering between two minds. My first impulse had been to reload, and kill the doe; but her plaintive voice entered my heart, disarming me of all hostile intentions. Had I dreamed of witnessing this painful spectacle, I should not have left the trail. But the mischief was now done. "I have worse than killed her," thought I, "it will be better to despatch her at once."

Actuated by these principles of common, but to her fatal, humanity, I rested the butt of my rifle, and reloaded. With a faltering hand, I again leveled the piece and fired:

My nerves were steady enough to do the work. When the smoke floated aside, I could see the little creature bleeding upon the grass--her head resting upon the body of her murdered mate.

I shouldered my rifle, and was about to move forward, when, to my astonishment, I found that I was caught by the feet. I was held firmly as if my legs had been held in a vice.

I made an effort to extricate myself; another, more violent, and equally unsuccessful, and, with a third, I lost my balance, and fell back upon the water. Half suffocated, I regained my upright position, but only to find that I was held as fast as ever. Again I struggled to free my limbs. I could neither move them backward nor forward--to the right nor the left; and I became sensible that I was gradually going down. Then the fearful truth flashed upon me--I was sinking in a quicksand! A feeling of horror came over me. I renewed my efforts with the energy of desperation. I leaned to one side, then to the other, almost wrenching my knees from their sockets. My feet remained as fast as ever. I could not move them an inch.

The soft, clingy sand already overtopped my horse-skin boots, wedging them around my ankles, so that I was unable to draw them off; and I could feel that I was still sinking slowly but surely, as though some subterraneous monster was leisurely dragging me down. This very thought caused me a fresh thrill of horror, and I called aloud for help. To whom? There was no one within miles of me--no living thing. Yes! the neigh of my horse answered me from the hill, mocking me in my despair.

I bent forward as well as my constrained position would permit; and, with frenzied fingers commenced tearing up the sand. I could barely reach the surface, and the little hollow I was able to make filled up almost as soon as it had been formed. A thought occurred to me. My rifle might support me, placed horizontally. I looked for it. It was not to be seen. It had sunk beneath the sand. Could I throw my body flat, and prevent myself from sinking deeper? No! The water was two feet in depth. I should drown at once. This last hope left me as soon as formed. I could think of no plan to save myself. I could make no further effort. A strange stupor seized upon me. My very thoughts became paralyzed. I knew that I was going mad. For a moment I was mad.

After an interval, my senses returned. I made an effort to rouse my mind from its paralysis, in order that I might meet death, which I now believed to be certain, as a man should. I stood erect. My eyes had sunk to the prairie level, and rested upon the still bleeding victims of my cruelty. My heart smote me at the sight. Was I suffering a retribution of God? With humbled and penitent thoughts, I turned my face to heaven, almost dreading that some sign of omnipotent anger would scowl upon me from above. But no! The sun was shining as bright as ever; and the blue canopy of the world was without a cloud. I gazed upward with earnestness known only to the hearts of men in positions of peril like mine.

As I continued to look up, an object attracted my attention. Against the sky, I distinguished the outlines of a large bird. I knew it to be the obscene bird of the plains, the buzzard vulture. Whence had it come? Who knows? Far beyond the reach of human eye, it had seen or scented the slaughtered antelopes; and, on broad, silent wing was now descending to the feast of death. Presently another, and another, and many others, mottled the blue field of the heavens, curving and wheeling silently earthward. Then the foremost swooped down upon the bank, and, after gazing around for a moment, flapped off toward its prey. In a few seconds, the prairie was black with filthy birds, who clambered over the dead antelopes, and beat their wings against each other, while they tore out the eyes of the quarry with their fetid beaks. And now came gaunt wolves, sneaking and hungry, stealing out of the cactus thicket; and loping, coward-like, over the green swells of the prairie. These, after a battle, drove away the vultures, and tore up the prey, all the while growling and snapping vengefully at each other. "Thank heaven! I shall at least be saved from this."

I was soon relieved from the sight. My eyes had sunk below the level of the bank. I had looked my last on the fair, green earth. I could now see only the clayey wall that contained the river, and the water that ran unheeding past me. Once more I fixed my gaze upon the sky, and, with prayerful heart, endeavored to resign myself to my fate. In spite of my endeavors to be calm, the memories of earthly pleasures, and friends, and home, came over me, causing me, at intervals, to break into wild paroxysms, and make fresh, though fruitless struggles. And I was attracted by the neighing of my horse. A thought entered my mind, filling me with fresh hope. "Perhaps my horse--" I lost not a moment. I raised my voice to its highest pitch, and called the animal by name. I knew that he would come at my call. I had tied him but slightly. The cactus limb would snap off. I called again, repeating words that were well known to him. I listened with a bounding heart. For a moment there was silence. Then I heard the quick sounds of his hoof, as though the animal was rearing and struggling to free himself; then I could distinguish the stroke of his heels, in a measured and regular gallop.

Nearer came the sounds; nearer and clearer, until the gallant brute bounded out on the bank above me. There he halted, and, flinging back his tossed mane, uttered a shrill neigh. He was bewildered, and looked upon every side, snorting loudly.

I knew that, having once seen me, he would not stop until he had pressed his nose against my cheek--for this was his usual custom. Holding out my hands I again uttered the magic words. Now looking downward he perceived me, and, stretching himself, sprang out into the channel. The next moment, I held him by the bridle. There was no time to be lost. I was still going down, and my arm-pits were fast nearing the surface of the quicksand. I caught the lariat, and, passing it under the saddle-girths, fastened it in a tight, firm knot. I then looped the trailing end, making it secure around my body. I had left enough of the rope, between the bit-ring and the girths, to enable me to check and guide the animal, in case the drag upon my body should be too painful.

All this while the dumb brute seemed to comprehend what I was about. He knew, too, the nature of the ground on which he stood, for, during the operation, he kept lifting his feet alternately to prevent himself from sinking. My arrangements were at length completed, and, with a feeling of terrible anxiety, I gave my horse the signal to move forward. Instead of going off with a start, the intelligent animal stepped away slowly, as though he understood my situation. The lariat tightened, I felt my body moving, and the next moment experienced a wild delight, a feeling I can not describe, as I found myself dragged out of the sand. I sprang to my feet with a shout of joy. I rushed up to my steed, and, throwing my arms around his neck, kissed him with as much delight as I would have kissed a beautiful girl. He answered my embrace with a low whimper, that told me that I was understood.

I looked for my rifle. Fortunately, it had not sunk deeply, and I soon found it. My boots were behind me, but I staid not to look for them, being smitten with a wholesome dread of the place where I had left them. I was not long in retreating from the arroyo; and, mounting, I galloped back to the trail. It was sundown before I reached the camp, where I was met by the inquiries of my companions. I answered all their questions by relating my adventures, and, for that night, I was again the hero of the camp-fire.

CHASED BY A RHINOCEROS.

On the 22d, says Mr. Cumming, ordering my men to move on toward a fountain in the center of the plain, I rode forth with Ruyter, and held east through a grove of lofty and wide-spreading mimosas, most of which were more or less damaged by the gigantic strength of a troop of elephants, which had passed there about twelve months before. Having proceeded about two miles with large herds of game on every side, I observed a crusty-looking, old bull borèlé, or black rhinoceros, cocking his ears one hundred yards in advance. He had not observed us; and soon after he walked slowly toward us, and stood broadside to, eating some wait-a-bit thorns within fifty yards of me. I fired from my saddle, and sent a bullet in behind his shoulder, upon which he rushed forward about one hundred yards in tremendous consternation, blowing like a grampus, and then stood looking about him. Presently he made off. I followed but found it hard to come up with him. When I overtook him I saw the blood running freely from his wound.

The chase led through a large herd of blue wildebeests, zebras, and springboks, which gazed at us in utter amazement. At length I fired my second barrel, but my horse was fidgety, and I missed. I continued riding alongside of him, expecting in my ignorance that at length he would come to bay, which rhinoceroses never do; when suddenly he fell flat on his broadside on the ground, but recovering his feet, resumed his course as if nothing had happened. Becoming at last annoyed at the length of the chase, as I wished to keep my horses fresh for the elephants, and being indifferent whether I got the rhinoceros or not, as I observed that his horn was completely worn down with age and the violence of his disposition, I determined to bring matters to a crisis; so, spurring my horse, I dashed ahead, and rode right in his path. Upon this, the hideous monster instantly charged me in the most resolute manner, blowing loudly through his nostrils; and, although I quickly wheeled about to my left, he followed me at such a furious pace for several hundred yards, with his horrid horny snout within a few yards of my horse's tail, that my little Bushman, who was looking on in great alarm, thought his master's destruction inevitable. It was certainly a very near thing; my horse was extremely afraid, and exerted his utmost energies on the occasion. The rhinoceros, however, wheeled about, and continued his former course; and I, being perfectly satisfied with the interview which I had already enjoyed with him, had no desire to cultivate his acquaintance any further, and accordingly made for camp.

BURNING OF THE ERIE.

The steamboat Erie, under command of Captain Titus, left the dock at Buffalo on the afternoon of August 9th, 1841, laden with merchandise, destined for Chicago. As nearly as could be ascertained, she had on board about two hundred persons, including passengers and crew.

The boat had been thoroughly overhauled and recently varnished. At the moment of her starting, though the wind was blowing fresh, every thing promised a pleasant and prosperous voyage. Nothing occured to mar this prospect till about eight o'clock in the evening, when the boat was off Silver Creek, about eight miles from the shore, and thirty-three miles from the city, when a slight explosion was heard, and immediately, almost instantaneously, the whole vessel was enveloped in flames. Among the passengers were six painters, who were going to Erie to paint the steamboat Madison. They had with them some demijohns filled with spirits of turpentine and varnish, which, unknown to Captain Titus, were placed on the boiler-deck directly over the boilers. One of the firemen who was saved, says he had occasion to go on deck, and seeing the demijons, removed them. They were replaced, but by whom is not known. Their inflammable contents undoubtedly aided the flames in their rapid progress.