NAT WOLFE;
OR,
THE GOLD HUNTERS.
A ROMANCE OF PIKE'S PEAK AND NEW YORK.
BY MRS. M.V. VICTOR.
NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by
BEADLE AND ADAMS,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
(P.N. No. 5.)
NAT WOLFE;
OR,
THE GOLD HUNTERS.
CHAPTER I.
THE RESCUE.
"Their black hair, thick and lowering,
Above their wild eyes hung,
And about their frowning foreheads
Like wreaths of night-shade clung.
'The bisons! ho, the bisons!'
They cried and answered back.
The frightened creatures stood aghast
To see them on their track."
With rifle on shoulder and knife in belt, Nat Wolfe rode alongcarelessly, for it was midday, and the country was open. That cautionwhich ten years of uncivilized life had taught him never entirelyslumbered, and he gave a sharp glance ahead, when, upon turning alow bluff rising out of the plain just here, he descried travelersin advance of him. A moment assured him that they were a family ofemigrants making their toilsome way to Pike's Peak. He had seenhundreds of such during the season; had sometimes aided them in casesof sickness and famine; and had cursed in his heart the folly of thosemen who had brought with them their women and children to share in thehardships of the journey.
The party he now observed was only one of multitudes presenting thesame general features. There was a stout wagon, drawn by three pairsof lean oxen at a slow and lumbering pace—probably the last wagon ofa train, as it was seldom that a family ventured upon crossing theplains alone. If so, the train was out of sight along the track, whichhere becomes less monotonous, winding among the bluffs and along theshallow bed of a river, in which, at present, no water was visible. Thedriver had attempted to lessen the difficult task of his team whileascending a long swell of ground, the heavy wheels of the wagon cuttingdeep in the sand, by dislodging the two women and three children fromtheir seats in the conveyance. The sun was hot, the air languid, andthere were no cool shadows of trees to break the heat and glare of theway. The two elder children, who were boys, ran on with spirit, but afour-year-old[Pg 10] girl lagged behind and cried, while the women toiled onwith listless, dragging steps. As Nat watched them, one of them stoopedand took the poor little child on her back.
"It's too bad!" muttered he, spurring his horse forward.
The whole family looked back anxiously when they heard the clatter ofhorse's hoofs, the driver involuntarily reaching for his rifle, as theroute was one of frequent danger and dread.
"Halloo, madam, let me carry your c