Chapter X: An Awful Awakening

I have now reached a point in my life over which I would fain pass in silence. It is an experience so strange, so like some horrid vision of sleep, so different from what usually falls to the lot of man, that, at this remote day, I cannot look upon it without a recoiling shudder of horror. I have sometimes persuaded myself that it was unreal; but no, it is true, and time can never clothe the memory of it in a different dress than that of unearthly terror. Bleak and bare it stands alone, in my checkered lot, and the silver that now glistens prematurely in my hair, came upon that night.

I remember falling into a deep sleep, in which the last form that passed before my eyes was that of the dark Medicine Man; there was a confused murmur of voices, and then all became blank and dark. Gradually the darkness was swept by the glittering folds of a dream--a dream which had little form or theme, but the minutest particulars of which I remember to this day. There were airy, waving figures gliding silently about me without voice, but with every variety of motion. They passed and repassed before my face, frequently pausing and extending their arms over my body, and sometimes standing and intently scanning my countenance. This continued a long time, not a word spoken either by myself or the forms, when suddenly the whole changed. The waving figures darted with the rapidity of lightning among each other, and the quiet radiance became instantly as black as night. In this, I could distinguish the rushing forms growing fainter and fainter, until, at last, all was blackness again.

Then came a feeling as though the thick darkness in one volume were gradually crushing me beneath it, and then a strange feeling of being cramped and held forcibly still. Then came a long, deep, indrawn breath, and I awoke.

All was confused and inexplicable. Open my eyes as wide as I might, I could not pierce the Stygian gloom. I tried to move, but could not--could not stir a limb, and only the fingers of my hand. The air was steamy and hot, and I was surrounded by something which chained every part. I strove to collect my thoughts. I remembered the consultation in the hut, the coming unconsciousness, and--my present awakening. My first impression, after this, was that the house had fallen over me. I clenched my hands--_they closed upon earth_! I reached forward and licked the darkness. _I tasted earth!_--and then came the sudden, overwhelming knowledge--

I WAS BURIED ALIVE!!

No pen can draw the faintest picture, no soul conceive the unutterable horror, unless that soul has gone through the same awful experience that filled my soul at that discovery. Such a whirlwind of fire as seethed through my bursting brain, such a perfect blaze of all the passions that can rack the human mind, I cannot portray with this feeble pen. For a moment I was frantic, and then suddenly a dreadful and frightful calmness soothed my frame.

Ay, I was buried alive! The savages had mistaken my trance-like stupor for death itself, and I had been hurried prematurely into the grave.

Oh, the appalling discovery! To die while in the grave! The thought was too horrible! I was not yet ready to give way to utter despair. I durst not pause a second for thought, for I knew it would surely come. I twisted and struggled with the strength of fury. I could turn my body around, and use my arms. There was an open space before my face, as I had been buried in the sitting position. Had I lain back I could not have survived five minutes; as it was, my limbs were immovably secured, and it _was absolutely impossible for me to free myself_.

It was a long time, for such an experience, before I admitted this, but I was compelled to at last. Death by suffocation was rapidly approaching, and all that was left for me was to prepare for it. The small breath of air around me had already been breathed over and over again, and was become hot, steamy, and sickening. I was gasping and panting, but strove to collect my thoughts and keep them from wandering. I commenced praying.

Suddenly a muffled sound reached my ear, as though something had fallen to the earth above. I listened--it was repeated directly over me, now rapidly and regularly. What could it mean? Was it the sign of dissolution, or was it real? I listened, and heard it plainer and plainer above the mild throbs of my heart. _It was real!_ Something or somebody was digging at the grave above!

Could I now hold out till I was reached? The air had already become _thick and palpable_, and strange fires were flitting before my eyes. I held my breath till the distended blood-vessels seemed bursting, and then as I respired, the earth turned to soft _mud_ around me; and then the long-labored inspiration was like drawing in some loathsome reptile.

But _what_ was above? It could not be a person, as I had been buried by them. It must be some famished animal hastening to devour me. Yet this would be a relief, to gain one more draught of the sweet, cool air of heaven before death.

Now I heard the murmur of _voices_! I shouted--there was a pause and stillness; then the efforts were renewed with greater vigor. I shouted again. I could feel the jarring tremble of the loose earth above. Some one was endeavoring to rescue me from my awful fate, thank God!

A moment after, and the cool air brushed my face; a strong hand seized my arm, and--Oh, joy inexpressible! I was on the earth again.

For a moment I was bewildered and dizzy, and my pulse fluttered wildly, for I had been very, very nigh death. I was recalled to full consciousness by the familiar voice of Jim.

“Got in a tight fix, Bill. Ole Jim jus’ in time.”

I took the savage’s hand without a word, and, sinking upon my knees, sent up a deep, heartfelt prayer to the Merciful Being who had thus snatched me from the most appalling death. There was a bright moon shining, and, as I turned, I saw the dark Indian’s eyes fixed wonderingly upon me.

“Jim,” said I, solemnly, “may the God who has put it into your heart, reward you for this act. I _never, never_ can.”

“Jim didn’t do it,” he quickly interrupted. “_She_ did!” and, disengaging his grasp, he darted out of sight I turned and looked behind me. There, standing motionless as a statue, her slight form wrapped in a thick mantle, her sweet, white face appearing like a spirit’s, stood the fair, mysterious captive.[3]

[3] In the northwestern part of Oregon is a tribe of Indians
called Chenooks, who bury their sick, as soon as the Medicine
Man pronounces them beyond recovery. This horrid practice is not
confined to them alone, for other tribes in the northwest have
been known to inflict it upon their captives.

For a moment, I was disposed to believe it was a spirit before me, so still and motionless she remained. Suddenly she turned to depart.

“Hold!” exclaimed I, springing forward and seizing her arm; “hold one moment, till I thank thee.”

“Thank the Great One above,” she replied, in a low, sweet voice. “He it is who has preserved your life.”

As she uttered these words, she turned her dark eyes upward, and the moonlight streaming down upon her face, threw a vail like the halo of glory around it. Then looking me calmly in the face, she added:

“You have escaped an awful death, it is true; and you are not the only one who has thus risen from the grave. When delirious, you spoke of home and of friends there, and I know your presence is prayed for. The chance of reaching them is now placed within your reach. A horse is saddled and bridled, and awaiting you, but a short distance away. Jim will furnish you with a rifle. You know the direction to take, and let me urge you to flee.”

Again she turned to go, but I restrained her.

“You are a white person, and do you wish to live and die with these savages?”

The tears glistened on her face as she replied, “I have not a friend in the civilized world. My parents were murdered by the Indians, and myself and sister carried away in captivity. We were separated; I was taken eastward, and she westward beyond the Rocky Mountains. She cannot be living, for she was a delicate child, younger than me, and incapable of bearing one-half the suffering that must have been imposed upon her. Should I ever see the land I left when a child, I should be a stranger among strangers. There are those here who love me, and I will remain behind and die among them.”

“Flee with me,” I impetuously urged. “You will not be a stranger. Hundreds will love you, and you can die with your own kindred. Jim, who is faithful to you, will furnish us both with a fleet horse, and we can elude all pursuit. I--”

I paused, for her agitation had become painful. She was sinking to the earth, when I caught her, and, leading her a short distance, seated myself beside her upon a fallen tree. Then I gently pulled her head over on my bosom, and looked down upon her features. Her gaudy head-dress was removed, and her white face lay among the mass of jetty hair like a jewel set in darkness. The dark, sweeping lashes, the faint roseate glow of each cheek, the delicate nose and lips, as the moonlight rested on them, were indescribably beautiful. There was, too, an utter abandonment about her,--a tumultuous throbbing, that showed what a powerful emotion was agitating her.

What was that emotion? Was it a response to my own great passion? What else could it be? Encouraged by the certainty that the latter was the case, I urged my suit with redoubled ardor. I pictured the happiness that would be hers in a civilized country, and the utter misery that must follow her life among the savages. She informed me that she was a captive, not of the tribe near at hand, but of one further north, which had held her ever since the massacre of her parents; and that she had been told, in case she attempted to leave them, instant death would be the result. I saw she wished--she _longed_ to flee, and the objections she offered were only suggested by her fears.

“Hist!” she whispered, “there is some one.”

I turned on the defensive. In an instant Jim stood beside me.

“How soon goin’?” he asked, anxiously, turning toward me.

“Shortly; why do you ask?”

“Day clus comin’, and if you cotched, no use!” he replied, meaningly.

“I was not aware, Jim, that I had enemies among you.”

“You hain’t; but--”

The rest of the sentence was gesticulated, first pointing to me and the fair one beside me.

“Do you not understand?” asked the latter. “There are several in the tribe who look upon me with envious eyes, and were they conscious that you knew of my existence, you would not be spared a moment. This is what Jim means, and his words must be heeded.”

“Must I travel afoot and alone?” I asked of the Indian.

“There’s the hoss what tossed you over the buffler there,” he answered, pointing to a clump of trees, “and I’ve brought you them other things,” he added, handing me my knife, powder-horn, and rifle, “and I’ll show you through the woods to the peararie.”

“Thank you; but I shall not need you, as I know the way well enough.”

“How soon you goin’ to start?” he asked, turning to depart.

“In less than an hour I shall bid you farewell.”

“Jim,” interposed the fair captive, “bring my horse to the same spot. I think I shall also leave for home to-night. If inquiry is made, you can tell them this, and add that I shall probably be with them in a few days again. As I know the wilderness well, I will guide our friend here through it.”

The savage looked cautiously at us both. If he was shrewd enough to suspect the truth, he was polite enough not to show it. He replied that her wish should be gratified, and he disappeared as noiselessly as he came. It was now getting far in the night. The moon rode high in the heavens, and shed a full, perfect light down upon us.

“So you are going,” said I, looking at her.

“I am going to attempt it,” she answered, firmly.

“And through no action of mine shall you ever regret this step,” I added, warmly.

“Oh! I hope he will soon return, for I _wish_ to go,” she said, as with a shiver of apprehension she looked hurriedly about in the dark shadows of the forest.

“As yet, we know not each other’s names,” said I, pleasantly.

“True,” she answered, with a faint smile. “Mine is Imogene Merment.”

“And mine is William Relmond; but where can Jim be?”

“Ah! there he is now,” she answered, with a deep flush; and the next minute the savage stood beside us.

“The animals are there; and I’m thinking you’d better be off. Soon as you git away, I’ll cover up the hole, so thee won’t think him has crawled out; but I’m much afeared there am some peeking about here.”

“We will go at once,” said Imogene, gathering up her dress.

I turned to give a last word to Jim, but he had vanished.

“Let us hurry,” said she, “for I have a dread that we are watched, and will not get away after all. I pray God that nothing may prevent us, now that we are started.”

She almost ran, and in a minute we reached the grove referred to. Here we found two horses saddled and bridled, and ready for a journey. Without losing a moment, we mounted and struck to the northward.

“Why this direction, Imogene?” I asked.

“To avoid pursuit,” she answered. “At daylight we will change it, and proceed to the south-east.”

The open prairie was some miles distant, and as long as we were in the deep shadows of the wood, the greatest danger was to be apprehended. It was more than probable that the extended absence of Jim and Imogene, at the same time, had aroused the suspicions of more than one savage. As all must have known that I was buried while still living, and that she had battled their determination as long as there was hope, when the morning came and showed her abrupt departure, they could not help suspecting the true cause.

The air was cool and exhilarating, and, as my fiery animal pranced beside that of Imogene, I could not restrain the wild, ardent hopes that thrilled my being. I was homeward bound with the fairest prize of the universe to me. What else could be needed? Ah! there was the fate of Nat, my companion, still shrouded in obscurity. I determined to question her at once in regard to him.

“Imogene, although this is hardly the proper moment, I cannot help questioning you about the fate of a friend of mine.”

“I know to whom you refer,” she answered, quickly. “I have heard him speak of you, but he does not know of your existence. He is a captive like yourself, save that he seems perfectly contented with his fate.”

“Thank heaven! it seems indeed that a wonderful Providence is watching over all of us.”

“I believe he can effect his escape, but it must be through your instrumentality, for I will not dare to show myself under the circumstances.”

“Good, clever Nat, I will do anything for him,” I exclaimed, warmly. “He is a whole-souled fellow, for all he is so odd. Only to think, he has been so nigh me all this time! Of course, it is my place to assist him, as far as lies in my power.”

“I have had several conversations with him, in all of which he spoke of you. He appeared to love you, and regretted greatly that you were so reckless. He said he had long striven to teach you how to hunt with caution, but never succeeded. He also referred to a trapper named Bill Biddon, the one who did his best to save our family when they fell victims to the savages, and who I would give all the world to see. He said he succeeded, after several years, in making quite a hunter of him.”

“Oh! the rascal,” I laughed, “just like him.”

When day dawned we continued our journey for several hours. I learned in the course of our conversation that Imogene Merment wandered continually among the tribes for many miles around, and, as I learned in after years, her existence was known to points as far opposite as Fort Churchill and Fort Hall.[4]

[4] The Crow Indians are a numerous tribe, subdivided into the
Blackfeet-Sioux, Dacotah, Ouk-pa-pas, Two Kettle, and Minnie,
besides several others. Each has its separate village and chief,
but all are on friendly relations with each other.

At noon I shot a ptarmigan, which was cooked and upon which we made a hearty dinner. Imogene ascended a small eminence to ascertain whether any signs of pursuit were visible. None were discovered, but we hurried forward until nightfall, when we drew up for the night. We started a fire, and at my urgent request, Imogene lay down beside it, while I kept watch. Our horses were picketed at scarcely a rod distant, and yet in the night they became so terrified at the approach of some animal, that they broke loose and fled, and we never saw them again.

This was a great loss to us, but in the morning we continued our journey on foot, and at noon ascended a high mountain, which was a spur of the Black Hills, lying between the Yellowstone and Missouri. The day was a clear, beautiful one, and the fairest peaks of the mountains, looming up against the blue, far-off horizon, formed a fine background to the glorious landscape spread out before us. Never shall I forget the magnificent scene which was opened to our vision. To the north, the mighty wilderness stretched in one unbroken tract as far as the eye could reach, while to the southward the glistening waters of the vast rivers could be seen, winding and losing their tortuous channels in the forest again. Numerous patches of prairie were visible to the west, and small, dark specks moving over their face, showed us that animal life was not wanting in this favored country. South of us, nestling in a deep valley, could be seen the tiny beehive-like lodges of the tribe we had left, seemingly covering scarcely a square rod of ground.

“Yonder,” said Imogene, pointing to the northward, “is the tribe which holds your friend. The village is two days’ journey, but the course is direct, and you cannot fail to find it. If you wish to search for him, I will remain here until you return. I should wish to approach no nearer, as it would increase the danger to both of us. Your friend has hunted with the tribe in this mountain, and should you be at a loss to find me again, ask him to guide you to the ‘Death Rock,’ and you will reach me by the most direct course.”

I hesitated long before leaving Imogene, but my duty to Nat, and the hopeful view she took of it, finally decided me. She was confident I should find him and be back in a few days, and urged me to delay no longer. We repaired to the “Death Rock,” where we separated. Imogene was familiar with its peculiarities, and assured me that in its recesses she could find security from any animal foe.[5] Before leaving her, I saw that she was provided with food sufficient to last a week at least, and as she was furnished with a rifle and ammunition, her situation was certainly as good as my own.

[5] Death Rock is composed principally of a vast cave, in which
it is said a whole tribe of Indians once perished; choosing
death by starvation rather than to fall into the hands of their
enemies.