The Forest Monster; or, Lamora, the Maid of the Canon. Edward Sylvester Ellis
enough time to massacre you and your friends, if you remain in this grove, as they expect you will; but if they come here and do not find you, they will have no time to follow up your wagons, and thus, you see, if you improve your time, you will be saved.”
“Beers,” said Hammond, turning to the man beside him, “rouse the men and have this thing done without a moment’s lost time, while I make a few more inquiries of our unknown friend.”
Beers darted away, and almost immediately was detected the rapid moving to and fro, and the bustle of getting ready to start.
“Your orders are being obeyed,” said Hammond, addressing the lady, who still sat her horse beside him.
“It is well that they are,” she replied, with a sigh of relief; “the Blackfeet know that you are encamped here, and they have no reason to think you will not be here when they are ready to strike.”
“Do you know where they are?”
“Over that ridge of hills, several miles to the northward. They have been riding, throwing the tomahawk, and making every preparation for the great battle which is to come off to-morrow between them and the Cheyennes.”
“This, then, is only a diversion?”
“That is it; they naturally think that, as they find you in their way, they may as well indulge in a little preliminary practice.”
“We were fearing an attack, as we knew that there were a large number of Indians in our vicinity, and we heard the sound of your horse’s feet long before we heard you. Being thus warned and prepared, could we not have made a successful defense, with the shelter of these trees, which you probably know are very numerous about us?”
“No,” was the instant answer of Lamora; “if there were no more than a hundred Blackfeet, you might repel them; but a thousand would overwhelm you. There are sounds of preparation upon the part of your friends.”
“Yes; we shall soon be on the move.”
“Keep straight to the westward; there is now enough light to prevent your going astray, and you will find, when daylight comes, that Heaven has brought you out of all danger. Farewell!”
Ere Hammond could interpose, or even thank her, the horse had wheeled about and was off on a gallop. Almost instantly, he vanished in the darkness, and the rattle of his hoofs grew fainter and fainter, until they, too, died out in the distance.
“Lamora,” repeated the young man. “I surely have heard that name pronounced by other lips than hers.
“Who is she? Where did she come from?
“She was sent by heaven, most assuredly.”
While conversing with the girl, Hammond had approached her horse as near as possible, and had managed to gain a distinct view of her face. There is something in the dim, misty moonlight which softens the asperities even of the repulsive countenance, but he was certain that the most beautiful creature upon which he had ever looked was conversing with him. Her half-civilized dress, and her wealth of flowing black hair, partly assisted in her enchanting appearance; but the face itself was one of unsurpassed loveliness.
The peculiar circumstances under which they encountered gave Hammond an equally peculiar interest in her, and a pang of disappointment went through his heart when he found that he was standing alone, and that she had left him so abruptly.
But he had important matters in hand for the time, and he gave his whole thought to them.
Every one was working with the energy of people who were convinced that their lives depended upon the result. The teams were harnessed, the wagons loaded up, and at the end of half an hour the whole train moved out of the grove, toward the west.
Before starting, men had ridden out on the prairie in every direction, and returned with the announcement that nothing could be heard of the Blackfeet, and all pressed forward with the greatest vigor and determination.
With the passing of the immediate danger, the thoughts of the strange woman who had befriended them returned to Fred Hammond. He felt a powerful interest in her, and, as he was riding beside the guide of the company, he turned to him rather abruptly, and asked:
“Have you ever heard of Lamora?”
“Heard of her?” repeated the latter, in surprise; “wasn’t I telling you all about her the other day?”
“So you were; I was sure I had heard her name before, but I could not recollect from whom. Who is she?”
“She is a white girl, living with a tribe of Indians, somewhere up north of us, and she has done many such things as this for the white people crossing the plains. I have heard of her for years as doing the same thing.”
“What kind of a looking person is she?”
“Just the handsomest creature that ever lived! Wait till you get a good look at her.”
Hammond was not long in finding that their guide knew very little more regarding her than he had already told, although he gossiped and chatted about her until daylight.
When light at last broke over the prairie, many eyes were cast anxiously backward, but not a sign of the Indians was visible. The warning of Lamora had saved them!
Fred Hammond could not drive the thoughts of this beautiful being from his mind, and finally he determined that, as he had joined the company for the sake of adventure, he would turn back and seek adventures of the most romantic kind.
So, on the afternoon of this day, he quietly withdrew from the company, and started at an easy gallop in the direction that the guide had indicated led toward the home of the mysterious and beautiful Lamora; and, leaving our hero for a time to himself, we must now bestow our attention upon others, who have a part to play in this narrative. Love, the passion of our nature, will play the mischief with all of us, and Fred Hammond was soon off on this great “love-chase” of his life.
CHAPTER II.
WHAT IS IT?
Black Tom and old Stebbins had a hard day’s ride of it, and they drew the rein in a heavily-timbered grove, just as the sun was setting, with the intention of camping there for the night.
They were well up toward the Black Hills, in a country broken with forest, hill and prairie, and interspersed with streams of every size, from the rivulet and foaming cañon to the broad, serenely-flowing river.
They were in a region infested with grizzly bears and the fiercest of wild animals, and above all with the daring and treacherous Blackfeet—those dreaded red-skins of the North-West, with whom the hunters and trappers are compelled to wage unceasing warfare, and who are more feared than any tribe that the white men encounter.
So these veteran prairie-men proceeded with all their caution and kept their senses on the alert for any “sign” of their old enemies, who came down sometimes like the sweep of the whirlwind, and who had the unpleasant trait, after being thoroughly whipped, of not staying whipped.
Dismounting from their ponies, old Stebbins walked back to the edge of the timber, and carefully made a circuit around it. He was thus enabled to gain quite an extended view of the surrounding prairie, although his view was broken and obstructed in several places.
Tired and ravenously hungry as he was, he moved cautiously and made his tour of observation as complete as it was possible to make it. Finally he turned about and joined his companion, who had kindled a good roaring camp-fire during his absence, and had turned both horses loose to crop their supper among the luxuriant grass and budding undergrowth of the grove.
“Well, Steb., how do you find the horizon?” asked Black Tom, who bore that soubriquet on account of his exceedingly dark complexion.
“Cl’ar,