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THE PIONEER'S PERILS:

OR,

AN INCIDENT OF BORDER ADVENTURE.

BY FRANKLIN J. OTTERSON.

IN the year 18-, there were but few settlers in the now densely-populated valleys of the Mississippi and the Ohio-few, we mean, of white lineage. The red men were there in the fulness of their strength and glory; there they had concentrated all their power and wisdom for the last desperate struggle with the pale faces who were slowly but firmly rolling over the Alleganies the tide of European usurpation and civilization. This broad region of primeval forests, prairies, lakes, and rivers, was the place of all others on the earth where nature gave the greatest promise to the white adventurers. Those who had penetrated to the Father of Waters, and explored the forests and prairies, returned with such marvellous tales of the fatness of the land, as were only exceeded by the stories told of the South American El Dorado. And well they might expa

tiate in glowing terms of the glories of the mighty rivers; of the ocean-like lakes; of the boundless prairies walled in by the blue sky; of forests whose tall trees seemed to brush the clouds as they swept along on the wings of the wind; of a soil whose richness was unequalled since the closing of the garden of Eden!

In those days the spirit of adventure was abroad-not as it has been since, in the blind recklessness of speculating folly, but in a desire to distinguish oneself by deeds of war and privation incident to the frontier settlers, whose cabins, far in the bosom of the great forest, seemed to invite the vengeance of the red man, and too often were the scenes of tortures and murders, the relation of which even at this day chills the very blood of the hearers. How many of these fearful scenes of blood are unrecorded and unknown, we can not tell; the vengeance of the red men upon the pale faces was often so sudden and complete, that not even a groan or a cry for mercy disturbed the air that received the last breath of the devoted family; not a breath was whispered of the terrible deed by the perpetrators; and the only evidence of the melancholy fate of the daring pioneer was the fire-scathed walls of his cabin, and perhaps a few bleaching, half-burnt bones of various sizes, where father, mother, and children, fell together!

In these adventurous times, George Wilton, a young man descended from an ancient English house, whose ancestors had been among the first settlers of New England, and had done good service in the cause of liberty when

the government of the mother-country sought to subdue the young giant Freedom-inheriting a love for deeds of daring, and excited by the wonderful stories told of the great western wilderness-prevailed upon his fond young wife to leave the peaceful and secure valley of the Connecticut, to bid farewell to all the scenes of youth, and share the dangers and toils of a borderer's life on the lonely shores of one of the large rivers falling into the Ohio.

Nor did it require long argument to induce her to accede to his wishes, though the separation from home and kindred was, as it ever is, a most painful step. Yet she had that firm confidence in the man of her choice, that self-sacrificing devotion to his interest, which overcomes all opposition, and sends the devoted one forth with no other attendants than faith and hope.

On a bright day in April, George and Emily Wilton bade adieu to their assembled friends, and turned their faces toward the west, where, in the fair valley of a beautiful river, he had staked out his claim during a visit the previous summer. Their long journey was uninterrupted, and ere the month closed they were housed in a log cabin erected for them by some of the nearest settlers, and left to pass their first night in the lone wilderness, with no human being within a distance of ten miles--no earthly friend on whom they might rely save a large dog, a mastiff of powerful proportions and astonishing sagacity. Commending themselves to the paternal care of their heavenly

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Father, they sank to rest amid a solitude as profound as

that of the grave.

At that time peace reigned over our fair land; and even the inveterate hate of the Indian felt its soft influence, and the white pioneers dwelling on the borders of the Indian country began to deem themselves perfectly secure from the dangers of midnight massacre which had often fallen upon them. Many of the principal chiefs of the red tribes visited the cabins of the whites to obtain ammunition and clothing in exchange for furs, moccasins, and other articles of their production.

Five years passed since Wilton's settlement in the beautiful valley. His log cabin had given place to a more commodious house; instead of the heavy forests at his door-sill, he now saw fields of grain and smiling meadows; and instead of one dear smile to welcome him at night, he now found four happy faces at his door-those of his devoted Emily and her three children--with whom his leisure hours passed more pleasantly than if he had been surrounded by all the crowds and luxuries of a mighty city.

Thus peacefully dwelt they, independent of all save God, and with hopeful prospect of years of prosperity and happiness, when all these golden dreams were dissipated by the declaration of war with Great Britain. The pioneers feared and prepared for the worst, knowing that the eminently enlightened and professedly Christian government of Great Britain would form a compact with the

savages, and set a premium of so much gold upon every American scalp; they knew that the British army boasted officers who seemed to delight in the cold-blooded butchery of prisoners-of-war-who incited their red allies to the massacre of manacled men and helpless wom women and children, and then swore in the face of outraged humanity that they could not control the bloodthirsty savages.

This diabolical compact was soon manifest from the haughty and insolent demeanor of the Indians, and was irresistibly and terribly confirmed by several midnight murders in the vicinity of Wilton's residence. A few weeks after, an attack was made upon his house by a number of Indians who had always been friendly. At that time, muskets and rifles were almost unknown among the western Indians, and all their warfare was with the tomahawk and knife. This first attack made upon his house was on a dark, stormy night, when the noise of the wind was sufficient to prevent him from hearing his foes. Indeed, he did not anticipate any attack; and after the usual caution of fastening doors, retired to rest. About midnight he was aroused by a confused noise in the main room; and, on striking a light, he beheld an Indian on the floor struggling to free his throat from the jaws of the mastiff; his neck was terribly torn, and the flow of blood was so rapid that he died in a few minutes. He had crept down the chimney, intending to open the door, and let in his companions; but the faithful dog was on the watch, and seized him the moment he reached the floor. Wilton

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