NAT, THE TRAPPER
AND INDIAN-FIGHTER.
BY PAUL J. PRESCOTT.
NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by
FRANK STARR & CO.,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
CONTENTS
- I. The Ledge 9
- II. A Wild Chase 15
- III. The Friend in Need 19
- IV. Lost Marion 26
- V. The Hole in the Hill 32
- VI. A Happy Meeting 41
- VII. Holed 49
- VIII. The Last Hope 60
- IX. Ho-Ho! and Away! 68
- X. An Unwelcome Visitor 73
- XI. The Last of Earth 78
- XII. Conclusion 82
NAT, THE TRAPPER.
CHAPTER I.
THE LEDGE.
Toward noon of a pleasant June day, 18—, a man, mountedon a powerful animal of the mustang breed, was riding slowlyover the plain, some distance south-east of the great SouthPass.
His appearance was striking. In hight he was rather morethan six feet, his legs and arms being long and lank in the extreme.His eyes were small, gray and piercing, and remarkablydeep-set; his face rather thin and cadaverous, the lowerpart being covered with a scanty growth of grizzled beard.Add to these not very handsome features a wide, though good-naturedlooking mouth, and a nose of extraordinary length,and he presented a startling, not to say ludicrous, appearance.
He was dressed in a suit of dun-colored deer-skin; and aclose-fitting coon-skin cap, from which dangled the tail,covered his head. A long rifle, which evidently had seen considerableservice, rested across the saddle-bow, and a largebuckhorn-handled knife peeped from the folds of his hunting-shirt.A powder-horn slung at one side, and a small tomahawkstuck in his belt, completed his outfit.
Such was the appearance of Nathan Rogers, well knownthroughout that region as Wild Nat, trapper and Indian-fighter.
As he rode slowly along, his eyes bent on the ground, asuperficial observer would have pronounced him in a deepreverie; but, from the suspicious glance which he frequentlythrew about him, it was evident that he was on the look-outfor any danger that might be near.
“Gittin’ purty near noon,” he said, at last, speaking aloud,as was his habit when alone—“purty near noon, an’ I sw’arI’m gittin’ e’ena’most famished. I shall be a mere skileton,purty shortly, ef I don’t git a leetle something in the provenderline. Guess I’ll make fur thet cl