I.

EARLY in the autumn of 1855, two boys were sitting alone by a roaring camp-fire, in a wild wooded cañon, leading up out of Utah Valley, in Utah Territory. They had left their home in the valley, fifteen miles distant, that morning, for the purpose of procuring a load of wood for fuel. Getting firewood was an arduous task at that early day in Utah. No timber grew in the valley, but only in the wild mountain cañons, where roads had to be constructed at great cost, by digging dugways on the mountain sides, blasting rock, and bridging the wild streams that dashed and foamed down their rocky channels. Added to the natural difficulties of wood getting, additional dangers attended the pioneer. The Indians were on the warpath, necessitating extra precautions. Large wood parties, going to the cañons three times every week, were obliged to go well armed, and keep a strict watch at night, that they might not be surprised by their savage foes. Our little boys, at the lonely camp-fire, we will call Karl and Billy; the former twelve, the latter eight years old. They had been sent to the cañon that morning by their father, for a load of wood. It was their first trip alone. They were to have joined the regular wood party at the mouth of the cañon and have proceeded with them to the timber; but by some misunderstanding, they had taken the wrong road, thus missing the camp, and being compelled to camp alone in the dismal forest, sur; rounded by wild and ferocious beasts, and still more savage red men. When the veil of darkness began lowering over the camp, the oxen were driven up, chained to the wagon wheel, and fed for the night. A large fire had been kindled, which lighted their surroundings to a considerable distance; but the darkness, which stood up like a wall in the distance, seemed only more dark and gloomy. Old "Dick and Bally" stood at some distance eating their provinder, blinking at the fire, affording our little campers no slight companionship. Billy proposed that their bed be made by the side of the

oxen, thinking that a greater place of safety. Karl objected, fearing that the oxen might tread on them in the darkness. More wood was heaped on the fire, and the flames shot twenty feet into the air. Supper was at length spread on the blankets and partaken of in gloomy silence, each young bosom being filled with vague forbodings of coming harm. Eight o'clock had come. The sky was obscured by clouds, making the darkness more intense, and the melancholy howl of the coyote on the hillside, did not add to their feelings of security. The forest was filled with strange sounds to which their ears were unaccustomed.

The hooting of the night birds; the melancholy sighing of the wind; the cracking of the dry twigs, as some nocturnal animal made its way through the wood; the rush of the water over its pebbly way-all combined to fill the minds of the lonely campers with a secret dread of coming harm. After a painful silence of some minutes duration, Billy said: "Karl don't you wish pa' was with us?" "Don't I though?" was the reply. "Do you think there are any bear up this fork?" asked Billy, after a slight pause, and Karl added reassuringly, "No I think not,”though he hardly felt the truth of his reply.

"Do you think we could kill a bear if one should come to our camp?" "Yes, I think we could," was the reply, inspired no doubt by the thought that they were well armed, with a colt's rifle firing six shots, and an old pair of horse pistols in a holster; though Karl really hoped they would have no occasion to try their battery on so formidable an animal. "I wish that wolf would stop howling, it makes me so lonesome," again ventured the younger boy, as a howl of unusual dolefulness was borne to their ears on the night wind. "Oh never mind that; the coyotes are too cowardly to hurt anyone," said Karl in a tone of assumed boldness. "Yes, but I don't like to hear it," persisted Billy, petulantly—“It makes me feel so lonely." "Well, I guess we'll have to listen to it, or go to

run back on the mountain side, but all their maneuvers were frustated by the agile hunters, who headed them off by swinging their blankets, throwing large stones, and whooping at them. Thus they trudged on for several miles; the boys stumbling frequently over the fallen trees which encumbered the rocky way. Several times Billy had fallen in the darkness, and had been brutually kicked to a standing position by the heartless rear guard. The hurried march at last so exhausted the poor boy that he could hardly keep his feet, and the warrior behind became more fierce, threatening several times to "kill pappoose" if he didn't hnrry up. Karl being fearful that the threat would be carried out, took his little brother by the hand, though he was himself almost exhausted. At this juncture, the storm which had been brooding on the mountain peaks for hours, broke upon the lonely trail with great fury. The flashing lightning illumed the surrounding peaks; the thunder filled the defiles with strange reverberations; the rain descended in a flood, rushing and roaring down the gullies like an avalanche. It was the most terrible, yet sublime picture, the frightened boys had ever witnessed, but their awe, at the elemental warfare, was subdued by their greater fear of their savage captors. The party reached the summit just at sunrise, when a halt was made, and after some difficulty a fire started. Breakfast was prepared from their own supplies, brought from home. They were thirty miles from home, on what is now known as the "Strawberry Ridge," and the beautiful "Strawberry Valley," filled with the golden beams of the morning sun, spread out before them. After eating, the boys were permitted to fall asleep, and remained in that blissful state for two or three hours, when they awakened from dreams of home by a kick, from the moccasined foot of an Indian. The sun was over three hours high, when they again took the trail,

men to fix his moccasin. The boys went out on the green where the oxen were cropping the grass, some rods from their captors, and sat down. Karl in a subdued voice told his brother that if they were not tied up very securely on the following night, it might be possible for them to steal quietly away, take the back trail, and by moving rapidly, perhaps get back home in safety; or at least encounter some party, that would surely be out in search of them. The plan of escape must be put into execution on the following night; for if they traveled much farther into the mountains, the immediate chance for their escape would be lessened, and even should they succeed, later, in eluding their captors, they would never be able to find their way back, but get lost in the interminable windings of the mountain passes, and starve or perhaps worse, be devoured by wild beasts.

The

some

Though Billy hardly understood what was desired, he had the greatest confidence in his brother's sagacity, and he determined to do all that lay in his power to further their plan of escape. party was soon again in motion, old Dick and Bally in the lead, proceeding without further halt until after dark. At a place where the cañon widened out into a grassy plot, a halt was made for the night, a campfire started, "jerked" meat eaten for supper, and preparation made for passing the night. Karl's wrists were tied behind his back with a short lasso, made of tanned deer skin, one end of which was fastened to one of the Indians' ankles. Billy was left at liberty. After some time spent by the Indians in smoking, and guttural chat they wrapped their blankets their heads and bodies, then down with their feet to the fire,

about laying

were

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leading down the opposite side of the mountain through a deep ravine, following a little stream for ten miles where a

short halt was made for one of the red

period of dreadful suspense to Karl. He was fearful that Billy, fatigued as he was, would fall asleep, in which case

their

hope of an immediate escape was at an

end. Billy was a sound sleeper, and should he doze off, he would never awaken before morning. Karl tugged away quietly at his fastenings, but only succeeded in drawing them tighter; and his wrists were already swelling and becoming quite painful. He constantly made signs to his brother to keep him awake.

Another hour of dreadful suspense passed. Billy struggled manfully to keep awake. Several times his head drooped, causing Karl's heart to stand still in very terror; but the little head would come up again, and the blue eyes open wide with a look which said, "I'll not go to sleep, never you fear." The time had now come for action. Karl, who had the utmost faith in the efficacy of prayer, breathed a silent but soulful appeal to the Almighty Father, for the success of their undertaking.

III.

Billy, who had been on the alert, saw his brother's signal, crept quietly to his side, and was told in a breath to unfasten the cruel thongs. Fortunately, Billy was in possession of an old razor blade, which he had found some weeks previously, and carried in his pocket ever since, which was now the speedy means of their deliverance. Silently and well the bonds were cut and Karl's hands freed. He arose, rubbing his wrists to restore the circulation, at the same time gazing upon the sleeping foe trying to decide what was best to do. Should they awake within four hours, the superior strength of the enemy would enable them to overtake and capture the boys, in which case they would probably be cruelly murdered. Karl decided to attempt the removal of the fire arms, and should the sleepers awake while doing so, shoot them on the spot; and should the removal be successful, and they be pursued and overtaken, sell his life as dearly as possible. Crawling stealthily near the coveted rifle, it was removed without alarming the enemy and handed to Billy. The pistols were removed in the same manner, and the boys stole like spectres away, not looking back until they were one hundred yards distant. Here the oxen were encountered, laying down for the night.

once

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The boys decided at once to drive their old servants back with them, although fully realizing the extreme danger in the attempt to get the oxen upon their feet. Billy was instructed, in case the Indians should be alarmed, to use the horse pistols with telling effect, waiting until the enemy should come close, then giving them a "centre shot!" The boys had both been used to fire arms ever since they were able to shoulder a gun. Old "Dick" was patted on the neck and told cautiously to "get up;" but the old fellow was down for the night and Karl had to employ the old ruse of twisting his tail, before he could bring him up standing. His fellow by the same proceeding was brought to a traveling position and each boy, fully realizing the force of the old saying, "a tail hold is a good hold," seized a tail firmly with the left hand, and the oxen were driven on a fast walk back on the lonely trail. They were soon a mile from that terrible camp-fire, and not hearing any hostile demonstration from that quarter, their courage returned; but the oxen were kept on a brisk walk, maintaining this gait for two hours. Billy now began to complain sorely of fatigue, and the thought now occurred to Karl that they could ride old "Dick," as they had done hundreds of times before. Billy was helped upon his back, the holsters hung across his neck, and after handing Billy the rifle, Karl climbed up behind and on they pressed. It was now beyond the midnight hour and the old ox still plodded on. Billy commenced nodding, and presently laid down on the animal's neck andwas soon asleep, being held in place by his brother. Karl urged the faithful animal to his best gait, but after a couple of hours more, the ox, being loaded, began to go more slowly. Karl began to get painfully sleepy, napping, and very nearly falling off several times. He could only keep awake by the greatest exertion. The hours dragged wearily on; old "Dick's" step became more labored; the boy more tired and sleepy. Finally he dropped over on his brother and was lost in profound slumber.

The boys were awakened by a violent