Iowa County, Wisconsin - Chapter with an unread heading (no. 2 of those read), 1881 (part 1 of 2)

Chapter with an unread heading (no. 2 of those read)

Indian OctuPAXcy - Dekivatiox of the Xame - Xatural Yegetatiox - Watki;, Scenery and Soil - Coon Bluff - A Romance of the Wisgonsin - Educating Slaves - The Mtsteuious Cave - Recovery of the Lost Child.

Indian Occupancy

Iowa County is one of the brightest jewels that sparkle in the State coronet, with a luster untlimmed by the searching struggles of threescore years. Conceived in the barren bleakness of a primeval mining country, and nurtured in the associations of nomadic savages, the primitive era lacked the advantages of more accessible centers ; but ever-changing time has overridden all obstacles and wrought a revolutionary scene in the condition of " Old Iowa." Wealthy in normal mineral riches, and with developed agricultural resources, a copious channel has been created for the ingress of commerce and the reflux of produce. Through the misty vista of sixty years, the progress of civilization has advanced with such rapid and unparalleled strides that the imagination is taxed to comprehend the remarkable transition. Familiar with the horoscope of events, the early and still vigorous pioneer views, with retrospective glance, the invasion of metropolitan usages, and soliloquizes on the alteration that has been accomplished. Seventy years ago the Indian tepee, the handiwork of crude mechanism, and the curling vapor ascending from the isolated camp-fire, were the only signs indicating the presence of a transient and roving humanity. The soil was overrun with a rank growth of vegetation, an<l the rich, succulent grasses of the prairie flourished, and decayed and enriched the earth, whence thrived, in later years, luxuriant hoards of golden-sheafed grain. The howl of the coyote and prairie wulf, commingling with the curdling war-whoop of the aborigines, echoed throughout the land, and awoke the deathly silence of the wilderness.

The unrelenting, throbbing energy of the pioneer, seeking for fresh conquests, instigated him to subjugate the territory, and reclaim for his children a heritage tending to comfort, if not attluence. Commensurate language is lacking to describe, in adequate terms, the alternating influences that were invoked to achieve triumph and victory.

Environed by naturally treacherous and distrusted hordes of Indians, the original settlers went forth in pursuit of mineral with the rifle, an ever-faithful ally. While at work in the field, or plying the pick and gad in the mines, the glinting barrel of the flint-lock asserted itself in convenient proximity, carefully primed, ready to send forth its leaden messengers of death on the manifestation of any hostility by their dreaded native foes.

But who were those men Where did they come from and just what did they do ? These are the principal questions to be solved, or, rather, discussed. It is not enough that we know what first brought the pioneer scions of civilization here, or that w see in the present grand development of the country the natural product, by successive stages of growth, of their first adventurous steps ami efforts in the wilderness.

There is a certain deep charna, inseparable from age, in the vivid remembrance of the days of individual youth ami ardor, thit clini;'! to each person ; this being the case, wiiat wonder is it that around those who p ived the way, in the past, for the steps of infant commerce and agriculture in this portion of the State, there should linger such kindly admiration and affection as finds its chief delight in a desire to perpetuate their names and deeds?

More than fifty years have rolled along since any permanent settlement was made here, from which to derive accurate data ; and when a half-century more shall have added its impenetrable obscurity to the present darkness, nothing will exist to convey a conception of what the beginning was, except the few lines traced by the pen of the faithful historian; and then, and not till then, will this work be fairly estimated or appreciated.

Derivation Of Tuk Name

The county derives its name from the powerful, and, at one time, invincible tribe of Iowa Indians, whose hunting-grounds engrossed the territory which has since proved the foundation of several States. On the invasion of the whites, these lands were usurped by the belligerent Sacs and Foxes, who, in turn, were displaced by the Winnebagoes, and, they, subsequently, by the white settlers, who gradually progressed westward, enticed by the hope of gain, until they held the soil in presumptuous mastery, to the total exclusion of the '' noble red man." When organized as a county, under the Territorial Government of Michigan, in 1829, Iowa County aggregated within its jurisdiction, the present counties of Dane, Green, Grant, La Fayette, and a part of Rock, thus embracing almost one-half of that part of Wisconsin, which lies south of the Wisconsin River. As the country grew in population, the demand for more complete centralization induced the Legislature at various sessions to divide Iowa by setting off at different times the adjoining counties, until finally, on the secession of La Fayette, Iowa County was reduced to its present proportions. It is bounded on the north by the Wisconsin River and Sauk and Richland Counties ; on the south by La Fayette ; on the west by Grant ; and on the east by Dane County. In conformation, Iowa County is nearly square, being in length and breadth thirty by about twenty-five miles, comprising Towns 4, 5. 0, 7 and 8 north, and Ranges 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 east, of the Fourth Principal Meridian, equal in area to twenty-one Government townships of thirty-six sections each, with a surplus of ten sections.

In general contour, Iowa County is highly diversified, varying in character from precipitous bluff and desolate sandy barrens, to rich rolling prairies. The land is divided by numerous ridges and valleys, which intersect at all angles, producing an ever-varying landscape that enchants the traveler and breaks the tiresome monotony of a prairie scene. In the northern part, within a distance of two or three miles from the Wisconsin River, the land is level and sandy. Further on, high rock\' bluffs present themselves, through which numerous streams How to the north. North of the main ridge, the limestone is succeeded by the underlying sandstone, which, owing to the abrading force of streams, is broken into clifTs of a grand and picturesijuc appearance. The dividing ridge is a remarkable feature of this country. Commencing at Madison, this ridge enters the county at Blue Mounds in a direct line, then trends to the southwest for fifteen miles, until it reaches Dodgeville, the county seat, where it resumes its westerly course passing on through Grant County in a wavering line, and finally terminating at the bluffs on the Mississippi. This divide maintains an elevation of 600 feet above Lake Michigan, and is seldom more than 700 feet high, except at the Blue Mounds, where it gradually rises east and west for several miles, until it attains an altitude at the West Mound of 1,151 feet. The south sideof the dividing ridge is a gently undulating slope, well watered by the numerous tributaries of the Pecatonica. The superficial formation is singularly level, abrupt cliffs or steep ravines being exceptional; never being found in the immediate neighborhood of the water-shed, but ratiier confined to the small lateral branches.

The southerly portion of the country is very irregular, and presents numerous ravines and ridges which sometimes rise above the level of the surrounding prairie. This section is interspersed with second-growth timber, which relieves the view, and promises an abundant supply of fuel for smelting and other purposes for years to come. This is a rich mineral range, from which is mined three-fourths of the ore shipped from the county. Smelting furnaces are located at accessible points, principally Linden, Highland, Mineral Point and Dodgeville ; but, when compared with the earlier resources of the territory, the mining industry presents a sadly decayed appearance. The recent increase of railroad freights has further augmented the depression, which bids fair to continue until the operations of an opposition line create rivalry and stimulate the managers to reduce freights to a basis which will recompense them, and at the same time enable the producers to realize a compensation for their outlay.

Extending across the county, from east to west, is an arable belt of beautiful prairie land. The outline is varied, being narrow at the northeast limit, and gradually increasing in width toward the opposite extreme, where the prairie expands and covers nearly two-thirds of the county. Groves and refreshing springs of cool water are plentiful, and tend to enhance the otherwise naturally picturesque scenery.

Natural Vegetation

An early traveler, speaking of the verdure of the Wisconsin prairies, describes the flowering plants that decorated the surface, as follows: "The flowers of the prairies are various and beautiful. The blue, yellow, white and purple chrysanthemum are common ; a yellow flower, waving and drooping like an ostrich feather, is also generally found. Some varieties resembling the prince's feather are common ; delicate snow-drops, violets and diamond sparks that ' love the ground,' form the carpet, whence springs the plumed stem of many colors, intermingled with the ' masuiiic ' or mineral plant, and the compass or resin plant, or the prairie sunflower. The mineral plant bears a bluish-purple flower, and is remarkable for the qualities attributed to its growth by the miners. It is said to indicate the presence of mineral. Itsometiraes spreads in spots over a large surface of ground, obscuring all but the grass beneath it ; here the miners will dig with almost a certainty of striking on a lead mine. Sometimes the range of a flower's growth is in the shape of a straight or curved or an irregular line, indicating the range of the crevice mineral in the strata beneath; these indications are believed in, and relied upon by many of ti^e miners. If this be true, and the plant actually points out the location of the mineral (galena), then, as I have observed, no one can say where mineral cannot be found, for this flowering plant is the most common in the country, and yet, as its growth on diff"erent parts of the prairie is so irregular in quantity and in direction, there may be something in the peculiarity of soil covering mineral which produces this plant ; it is called by the miners ' masonic,' perhaps, in derision, for it discloses the secret of the mine.

" The rosin or turpentine weed, or compass plant, deserves some notice. I have called it the prairie sunflower, from the mere resemblance to the flower, so called, with us, except that the flowers and seeds are much smaller ; the largest one I saw was about four inches in diameter, exclusive of the surrounding yellow leaves. The stem of this plant rises to the height of five or six feet, and, when broken in any part, it exudes a white resinous fluid, which, on being exposed to the atmosphere, acquires a gummy consistency, and tastes and smells of resin. But the strange peculiarity of the plant is that its leaves invariably point north and south. In the writings of Dr. Atwater, who has visited some parts of this country, I remember that he has noticed this flower, remarked its peculiarities and has given its botanical name as belonging to the heianthus tribe. The leaves are very large and firm and stiff", those nearest the root are largest, some of them about eighteen inches long and about one foot wide, palmated and deeply indented. From the root, the leaves start out from the stem, on two sides only, at irregular distances, yet generally opposite eacii other, and these leaves invariably have a north-andsouth direction. It is called the compass plant, for the Indians, in absence of trees on the vast prairies, could at all times find a guide in the leaves of the prairie sunflower ; and its resinous qualities might render it a good substitute for pine knots in giving liglit. Horses and cattle eat this plant with avidity, bite at it in traveling over the prairie and seek it out from amidst the hay in the stable. It is remarkable that the wild indigo always accompanies this plant.

" A remarkable and beautiful feature in the decorations of the prairies, is, that the summer flowers, after having for a season displayed their gorgeous variety, and turned up their faces to receive the glowing beams of the sun, as soon as autumn puts on her sober brown, and the airs of heaven breathe more mildly, droop, die, and instantly give place to a new galaxy of fine and beautiful flowers; particularly all the varieties of the chrysanthemum, and a splendid drooping bush of flowers that looks as if it was covered with snow-flakes. The autumn flowers are more delicate and less flaring than those of summer."

Water, Scenery And Soil

In the early history of the county, flowing streams were more numerous, as shown by the maps of early surveys, and the streams now extant exhibit a marked diminution in volume, when comparatively treated. Many springs, which formerly furnished an apparently inexhaustible supply of water, are now dry, and are replaced by wells, sunk to a lower stratum. The sight of deserted mills, in some districts of the county, is quite common, owing to a former abundance of water receding, or going out. compelling the involuntary abandonment of an impoverished mill privilege. In many instances, this circumstance has led to the re-opening and profitable working of mines, which were relinquished on account of the surrounding water insinuating itself into the crevices. This absorption is chiefly attributable to the broader expanse of country now under cultivation, which conduces to more rapid evaporation. The action of settlers in denuding the land of wood and forests has contributed toward the depletion of the rivers and minor branches.

The principal stream is the Wisconsin River, which forms the northern boundary line. That section of the county is irrigated by numerous brooks and rivulets, which, rising on the northern side of the dividing ridge, drain more tlian half the county. Tliey derive their origin from springs, and, after threading a sinuous course, unite and discharge their volume into the Wisconsin River. The principal streams on the north are Blue Mounds, Mill Mudenwood, Bean's Marsh. James' Branch and Otter Creeks. South of the divide, the county is well drained and watered by countless branches of the Pecatonica, which spring forth on the fruitful southern plateau, and, descending into La Fayette Countj', unite in the waters of the main stream. These rivulets are known as West and East Pecatonica, Sylvester's Creek, Zimmer's Creek, Spensley's Branch, Peddler's Creek, Bird's Branch, Rock Creek, Dodge's Branch, and the East and West Branches.

Along the banks of the Wisconsin, the scene is strikingly bold and panoramic in appearance, and, from any standpoint, a splendid prospect of prairie, forest and bluff", is opened to the gaze. The soft, friable sandstone, in many places, has boon imlented into cavernous recesses by the action of the waves and weather; these openings at times a.'ssuine multiform shapes, as the crumbling rocks decay with the ravages of time, and, in several instances, legends of romantic interest have been woven around the most interesting spots. One of these local sketches, of unusual interest, is given in a separate chapter. The tale in question is written under the caption of " Coon Bluffs," and relates to scenes and incidents that transpired in the vicinity of Arena, at a period when that country was only sparsely settled. A few miles below Helena, on the Wisconsin, is a place called the Fallen Rocks, wiiere the river has undermined the strata, and dislo<lged from the bluff" a mass of sandstone thirty feet high and two hundred feet long, which now obstructs the river.

The soil is a rich, black loam, with good subsoil of cliiy, and agricultural operations are conducted successfully, under very desirable circumstances, except in the bottom lands of the Wisconsin, where the soil is sandy and unfit for cultivation. The rocky prominences are well wooded with white oak, quaking ash, majtle, walnut, and a variety of timber, which furnishes, almost at the door of the farmer, a cheap fuel, unequaled for quality, and unlimited in quantity.

There is something extremely bewitching about the black eyes of a pretty little girl, sparkling under a coronal of raven ringlets ; und how beautiful is a clear morning in July, as the bright sky plays upon the crystal waters of the fost-flowing Wisconsin ! The roses and dandelions that ornately glitter along the banks of the noble stream tempt those black eyes from the playful little flock by the low, white schoolhouse.

Wizena was an amiable child - eight years old - the pride of her parents, and the favorite of the village. Everything was in commotion when the neighbors understood that she had disappeared. All night, all the men and boys of the neighborhood were going in all directions with torches, in search of the lost one ; but all they could find was a beautiful bouquet, tied very neatly with a blue ribbon, that Wizena had about her person the morning before. This was found on the bank of the river, opposite the foot of Cedar Island, near the remains of a recent Indian camp. It was at once concluded that the Indians had captured her, and great was the indignation that burst forth against the whole Indian race at this discovery. Measures were immediately taken to follow in pursuit. Four men, with loaded guns and other arms, took a skiff, and pulled rapidly down the river, searching carefully all the islands. Four others crossed the river, and examined diligently all along the bank on that side, while four more kept down on the south bank. George Ashmore and John Adams, who both had recently been going to the same school with Wizena, took horses and rode down to Helena, Wyoming, English Prairie and as far as Muscoda. But no tidings could be obtained of the lost one, nor had any Indians been seen passing down the river at any of these points. The only thing that had been seen going down was a skiff, with two white men in it, who appeared to be hunters. The river being very low at that time, no rafts were passing. " May not these hunters have seen the Indians, if not the girl ? " was asked. Mr. Jones, a man of generous spirit, very readily undertook to try and find these hunters. Mr. Belezer, the father of Wizena. supplied him with ready money to procure fresh horses, and in twenty hours he had overhauled the men at Prairie du Chien. They told him they had met some Indians about Arena, with a little girl with her face painted in Indian style, who wore a bonnet and frock.

It was on Tuesday morning that Wizena had disappeared; but not until Saturday evening did Mr. Jones return, and in that time it had not been suspected that the Indians had gone up the river, as they were known to be of a tribe living chiefly near the St. Croix. Messengers had been dispatched across the country at the same time Mr. Jones left for Prairie du Chien, with the hope that they would reach the tribe in advance of Wizena's supposed captors. These, of course, could not be expected back for several days. It was a source of deep chagrin to Mr. Belezer, who now blamed himself for neglect ; but Mrs. Belezer, having now become calm, and restored to her accustomed Christian resignation, and news having come that the Indians had their camp only two or three miles up the river, he determined to go himself and search for his beloved child at every risk.

Having crossed Brisbane's ferry at Arena, he proceeded on foot with his double-barreled gun and a dog, as though his object was simply to hunt game. This he did to prevent any suspicion on the part of the Indians, as he hoped thereby to watch their movements until he could ascertain the true situation of his daughter. He had previously advised his neighbors to keep quiet and not attempt any movement up the river, and had also taken the precaution to fasten a skiff by chain and lock on the north bank of the river, to serve in case of his return in the night.

It was between sunset and dark when Mr. Belezer took his lonely way up the river. The ferry road, being seldom traveled, and never kept in order, was by no means comfortable for a pedestrian at night. He therefore hastened on rapidly while he had light enough to see his way. Night, however, overtook him before he cleared t!ie last open marsh, and there, missing his direction, he suddenly found himself sinking in a deep bog. All effort to extricate himself proved unavailing; he sank to his waist before he found solid footing. His faithful dog barked loudly, and thus brought out Mr. Bell, whose house, in the daytime, might liave been seen through the oak shrubbery. In a few moments, which appeared more like hours to the afflicted traveler, Mr. Bell drew near the spot with his rifle and a lantern, expecting to get a shot at a wolf or deer. At this moment they were startled with the sliarp sound of a rifle, and Mr. Belezer felt the ball graze his scalp. It was evidently from the direction from which Mr. Bell bad approached, and Mr. Belezer, not being able to distinguish any one in the rear of Mr. Bell, and supposing him to be an Indian, concluded that he had been shot at by him. He immediately raised his rifle and was taking aim at the breast of his neighbor, when, with another crack of a rifle, the ball struck the weapon out of his hand. Another report quickly succeeding, shattered Mr. Bell's lantern. In a moment, Banquo, the faithful dog, had throttled one of the aggressive party, who cried out in agony for assistance. It was the coarse voice and enunciation of some illiterate Jonathan, and was responded to by two others with the terrible Indian yell. All this transpired in less than two minutes; then everything was quiet, and Mr. Belezer again found himself apparently with none but Banquo near him.

Mr. Bell had fled the moment his lantern was shattered, and in great alarm re-entered his house. His frightened family hastened with him to their neighbor Bentley, who resided near the river, about a half-mile off.

Two hours had passed, and Mr. Belezer was still unextricated from his unhappy confinement - even his dog had left him. No sound had reached him except the rapid notes of tlie whip-poor-will, and occasionally the somber whoop of the night-owl. But now he thought he heard a long-drawn breath. It may have been the echo of his own. lie had carefully avoided crying out for help, from the apprehension that it might be the means of directing the hostile party to his position. Again he thought he heard a long, deep breath - then a groan. It was evidently from a human being not far from him. Deeming it prudent to continue his silence, he allowed no sound to escape him, but carefully noticed the breathings of the man near him, whom he then concluded must be the one whom the dog had attacked, and who must have been deserted by his Indian comrades. He very naturally conjectured that these were the two Indians who had been seen with the girl, supposed to be his daughter in disguise. It seemed to him that this must have been the man who had the lantern, for Mr. Bell had had no time to speak before the attack was made, and Mr. Belezer had therefore heard but three voices. He now carefully listened to discover if possible the true condition of the wounded man near him. Presently the man began to mutter something about being left alone, and soon he seemed to be so far recovered that he could speak in low but distinct tones. The first sentence Mr. Belezer could distinctly make out was : '' Darn them Injins, they haint got no feelin' for a white man ; blast me ef I goes huntin' vensin with the darned yaller varmints agin." This gave to Mr. Belezer the key to explain the attack made upon him. This man and the Indians had evidently, in the darkness, supposed him to be a deer, and the lantern held by Mr. Bell, whom he supposed to be that of one of the party left wounded on the ground, was broken probably in the rencontre with Banquo. The wounded man was evidently acquainted with these Indians, and possibly he might disclose something that would lead to the discovery of his daughter.

Recovering more strength, again the wounded man articulated : " Bell was orful scareil ; barn his lantern, ef it hadn't a been in the way I wouldn't a shot at it, and then that darned dog of his'n wouldn't a jumped on me. Har I be a sweltering in my own blood. Consarn them Injins, to leave a fellow a-swcltering in his own blood, jist like a bruit beast - them Injins ain't humans.

-' Consarn it all. I wish I hadn't a undertook that job about that gal ; here I is mongst Injins who ain't humans, when I mout a been in better business. Ef ever I can get up here agin, dog my skin ef I don't keep clear of these all-fired mean works."

Mr. Belezer had now heard enough to satisfy him that this man was an accomplice with the Indians in getting off his daughter. The object he supposed to be to get a large reward by pretending that he had delivered her from their captivity.

While he was meditating whether to speak to the man or not, he heard a light tread, and the low gutteral tones of the Indian speech. The wounded man also observed their approach, and spoke as audibly as he could to them :

" Darn your souls, yo've come at last. Har I be, oncapable of moving ary leg, and with my arm and nock all mangled up by the darned dog, and been good as dead ; and [you all-fired cowards runs oft' and leaves me here to perish." The Indians made no reply but quietly raised liim up and bore him away. Mr. Belezer could only observe the outline of their fingers, and was all the time quaking lest they might discover him again as an object for their rifles.

In the meantime. Mr. Bell and Mr. Bentley, having concealed their families in a safe place, hiid gone round silently to the neighbors, and roused as many as the sparse population would admit. Arming themselves as best they could, they organized themselves into a company, and, appointing a captain, they proceeded to the Indian camp, which was in the oak openings between Bentley 's and where Mr. Belezer was so unhappily confined. The Indians were the same who had been encamped recently on the south side of the river, below Arena. Hearing the bay of a dog, two of them with the white man who was encamped witli them, supposed it was after a deer, and hurried to the spot, reaching there directly after Bell got upon the edge of the bog. The lantern, not yielding a very good light, only served to bewilder the hunters, and the two Indians fired at the supposed deer, while the white man, vexed at Bell for having a light, and, supposing that he was also engaged in the sport, shattered the lantern. Bell, however, thinking that they had made the attack upon him, and without having yet ascertained the position of Mr. Belezer, or, indeed, knowing that any one was in the bog, fled as rapidly as he could, fearing the Indians might murder him. This was the conclusion arrived at.

On reaching the In<lian camp, the party found it just brijken up, and the fires not yet extinguished. They traced them to the river bank, and from appearances judged that they had proceeded down the river in their canoes. It was now about 2 o'clock in the morning, and thinking they might possibly overtake the Indians by a rapid march, the company hastened down the river road. The moon was risen and threw a broad light over the marsh as they reached the edge of it. Bell was about to point out the spot where the supposed attack upon him was made, when Mr. Belezer recognized his voice, and, seeing that it was a company of white men, called loudly to them to stop and help him.

All were startled and panic stricken, and scattered in every direction, except an old man named Plum, who had the fame of neither fearing God nor the devil, or, rather, believing in neither ; but was a man, nevertheless, of somewhat philanthropic disposition, and sensibly concluded that none but a human being would be likely to call for help ; and, as the form was a very low one, concluded it might possibly be a man sunk in the bog. Approaching as near as he dare, he soon saw who was there, and without waiting for explanations, or saying a word, rapidly started oft", but soon returned with a long log taken from the opening near by, and, throwing it out to Mr. Belezer, bid him take hold ; but the unfortunate man was by this time so exhausted, and his lower limbs were 80 benumbed, that he could only lean forward upon the log, and entreat the old man to get more help to drag him out. By this time, the company had taken second thought, and one after another again came to the spot. Taking their handkerchiefs. Plum tied them together, then walked out on the log, fastened them under the shoulders of Mr. Belezer, and had hira carefully hauled out. By rubbing and covering hira up warraly with coats that were readily taken off for the purpose, he was soon sufficiently restored to communicate the circumstances of his daughter's disappearance and the subseiiuent events.

The delay had caused the loss of half an hour, but they now determined to continue the pursuit with vigor, on the north side of the river, while Mr. Belezer was to recross at the ferry and get his neighbors to hasten down on the south side with horses.

Banquo had run down to the ferry when he left his master, and, swimming the river, had reached home about the time the family were retiring to bed. He kept howling at the door until he was let in. His return without his master, and the blood on him, excited considerable uneasiness, but his continued whining and running out of the door and barking, satisfied all that there had been some foul play. But it so happened that all the able men of the village had gone that night to a public meeting at Dover, four miles off, called to take into consideration the question whether the Indians ought to be suffered about the neighborhood.

Mr. B.'s son Julius - a high-spirited little fellow - ran over to Dr. Bruce's, and, begging the loan of a horse, galloped to Dover, and he returned with all the men who were at the meeting. On arriving at Arena, Banquo met them, and, howling piteously, ran to the river, where, standing on the bank by the schoolhouse, and looking up the stream, he howled long and piteously. As the company were all on foot, much time had passed since the dog had reached home ; and it was now a question wliat tiiey were to do. Cooper, the carpenter of the village, advised that all the guns in the place should be obtained and loaded by those who could use them best, while others might take axes, hatchets, and even clubs, and with these weapons cross the ferry, by which time the moon would be risen, and go up to the Indian camp. Having maile these preparations, there was a general shout for Cooper to take the lead. He promptly took his place at the head of the company, but Banquo led off, and, when they reached the ferry landing, to cross over to Cedar Island, which intervenes between the north and the south shores of the river, he plunged into the water and swam across to the island. Cooper, determined not to be less zealous than the dog, made no halt for the ferry-boat, but waded across, followed by the whole company. Arriving at the other side of the island to take the ferry-boat over the deeper channel, they met there the Indians, just about the time that the company with Mr Belezer had commenced their march. This was an unexpected encounter to the Indians, and for which they were entirely unprepared. The now clear light of the moon revealed the condition of both parties, the whites had twenty men, armed in every sort of way, while the Indians numbered but eight men, with their scjuaws and children, and had only three rifles among tliem - the others had bows. The white man who had been wounded by the dog was carried on a litter. Banquo whined a moment when he came u|) to them, and then plunged into the water and swam across. Cooper was at a loss wliat to do ; the Indians appeared greatly alarmed, and the movements of the dog seemed to imply that he had better hasten on to relieve Mr. Belezer. But the alarm of the Indians subsided as the white men hesitated.

The two bearing the litter suddenly turned about and rolled the wounded man into a canoe. That movement satisfied Cooper that no time was to be lost.. He ordered his men who had guns, and whom he had kept in the front rank, being only four thus armed, to be ready to fire, and tiien immediately as they fired to retire and reload, while those armed with axes, hatchets and clubs sliould rusli on, and, after a short assault, give place for the guns again. The wounded man in tlie canoe cried out: " You gal, out of the way, or they will shoot you !" This appeared to be interpreted by one of the Indians, and two scjuaws, springing to a canoe, caught between them a young girl, whose face was covered with red paint ; but her clothing was readily recognized as the dress of Wizena. Cooper was about giving the word to fire, when the fear of killing the girl arresteil the command. The men suddenly threw down their gun<. and rushed forward to seize the child - the guns went off as they fell - but without effect. With a most wonderful agility, the girl, freeing herself from the squaws, rushed into the canoe, and, seizing the paddle, rowed rapidly down the stream. The Indians with rifles ran immediately, and stood right between the squaws and Cooper's company, presenting their arms ready to fire. This covered the flight of the squaws, while five arrows sped their way at the same time against the feet of the white men in the front rank. At this moment, Mr. Belezer and old Plum struck their skiff against the canoe in which the wounded man was laid. They both sprang from the skiff upon the canoe, and thence upon the landing. The frail craft was then up set, and the miserable man rolled over into the river, and was seen no more. Instantly, the Indians without rifles, sprang into the skiff, which had been detained by the twig of an overhanging tree, and made good their escape. Mr. Belezer rushed to the aid of Cooper, who had suddenly grappled the rifle of one of the Indians, and with the butt of his rifle, which on account of its dampness could be used in no other way, leveled the Indian to the ground. The other men, who had been waiting for a word of command, now rushed forward, and, seizing the two Indians whose rifles had already been fired, without other effect than flesh wounds on two of the white men, held them firmly until they could be tightly bound. The company then hurried with them to the village, where they arrived about sunrise. But great was the disappointment of the exhausted father and the whole company at not finding Wizena at home ; they had calculated certainly that she had guided the canoe around the island to the main land, and had made good her escape from the Indians. But now they felt assured she had again fallen into savage hands, and the pursuit must again be renewed. Still, Mr. Belezer hoped that the company on the other side of the river had hailed and saved her from being retaken.

Without thought of the Indians they had captured, they all rushed instantly down the river. On reaching what is called the " Old Fort," a mile below the village, where the stream runs very rapidly in a deep channel along the shore, they saw the canoe upset, where, pressing against the trunk of a tree which had fallen over into the river, it was held by the roots. Turning it over, the dress of the little girl floated up, and immediately the boiy was rushed under the log, and seen no more ; and, with heavy hearts, they returned to the village.

In the meantime, the Indians had m;ide good their escape. In the sadness of his heart, Mr. Belezer refused to take any further measure to recapture them ; but simply begged the neighbors to drag the river for the body of his daughter. Finding, however, that all eiforts proved ineffectual, the bereaved parents, taking their only remaining child, Julius, with them, returned sad and sorrowing to South Carolina, whence they had come only the year before, to make their home in Wisconsin. They were but a short time in Arena, occupying one of Mr. Mohr's houses. That one ever since has worn the gloom of the grave, and no tenant has occupied it.

Mr. Belezer had left Carolina in consequence of a long-standing quarrel with one of his neighbors, a rich planter in St. Peter's Parish. The falling-out had taken place ostensibly about a line fence ; but, really because Mr. Belezer had been the successful rival of Andrew Smith for the hand of Mary Garvin. On account of which, Smith swore he would have revenge. Although more than twelve years had elapsed. Smith, who was still a bachelor, had never ceased to do everything he could do to annoy Belezer, who, wearied out, determined to remove to the Northwest, to get so far from his enemy that he might be sure of escaping further annoyances. But, having learned that Smith had sold out everything and removed to California, he saw no reason why he might not return to his old home ; and, having repurchased his own homestead, he also paid a good price for the lands that Smith had formerly owned, to make sure, if he should return, of his not again having an opportunity to repossess himself of the same residence he had left.

Mr. Belezer had never sold his negroes (he owned about forty) ; but, on going North, had hired them out. His purpose, in going to Arena, was not to make that point his home, Madison being the place he had selected for his residence ; but to spend some time in the association of Dr. Bruce, formerly of South Carolina, and who, on account of slavery, had left the South, and, having emancipated his slaves, had finally settled down in Arena.

Educating Slaves

Mr. Belezer had so frequently defended the Fugitive Slave Act, the Kansas-Nebraska Act, and the political measures of the Pro-slavery party, against the attacks of Northern disputants, and had inveighed .so much against the ultraisra of Abolitionists, that he overlooked what he hid previously confessed to be the evils of slavery, ami had finally settled down in the conclusion, that, after all, the South had been grievously wronged. Through the loss of his precious little daughter adding grief to indignation, he returned to his old home with embittered feelings against the Free States, and with the resolution to assist in maintaining what he and his slaveholding compeers are pleased to call the "rights of the South." at all hazards.

The case, however, was very different with Mrs. Belezer and her little Julius. Frequently would Julius amuse the negroes with the adventures of runaways who succeeded in getting to Canada in safety. He told them various things about the underground railroad, and took his map and pointed out the diff'erent directions from Southern to Northern points.

Among the negroes on his father's plantation was a muscular, stalwart fellow, black as «bony, yet with a high forehead and remarkably intelligent countenance. He was quite an orator in the religious meetings of the negroes, and, having an unusually high moral character, he showed that the Christianity was not assumed for sinister purposes. He was respected by both white and black. This man, seeing Julius alone one day, asked him to teach him how to read and write.

Julius, although then only twelve years old, was unusually advanced in his studies, and could compose well and write a fair hand. Under his instructions, Ben made rapid progress, and in two years became not only a fluent but a well-informed reader, and wrote a good hand, and composed with accurate diction.

Ben loved a comely plantation wench named Sue, and all his educational efforts were planned toward effecting an early escape with Sue, who had promised to be his wife.

Spurred to rebellion by constant threats of whipping, Ben, one bright day in May, 1857, interfered to save Sue from the slave driver's lash. lie sprang forward, seized the girl in his arms, threw her upon his shoulder, and ran with her rapidly toward the road at its nearest point, through a thick growth of oaks, which was within a few rods of the rows that they had been hoeing. They eluiled their pursuers, and, after swimming several streams to throw the bloodhounds off the scent, gained the depths of the Coosawhatchie Swamp. Ben had long premeditated an escape, and had, therefore, at various times, taken opportunities to examine all the ground for many miles around. He had also given Sue to understand his intentions, but the occasion was unexpected, and found them unprepared with change of clothing. He had stowed away in the trunk of a tree a quantity of cornmeal and salt, flint and steel for striking a fire, and a good bow with cane arrows, pointed with sharpened nails, and had also a six-barreled revolver, with a good supply of powder and balls.

The next day, Ben spent several hours meditating what course to take. At length he remembered that he had seen, at Dr. Malcolm's house, where he had been a few days before on an errand, several trunks and large boxes of goods directed to Arena, for which place the Doctor and his family had already started. He knew that these were to be sent to Savannah, to be shipped via Fhiladc'l[)liia f)r their destination.

That night, taking their stores with them, he and Sue made their way to Lawtonville, arriving at Dr. Malcolm's house about midnight. As no one was in the house, Ben knew he could safely get into it by means of a pole through the upper window, which had no shutter. Having reached the front parlor, he satisfied himself that the boxes had not yet been sent off, whereupon, turning the key, which had been left on the inside of one of the doors, he admitted Sue.

"Now, Sue," said Ben, "you must not be timid. You sit here quietly while I am gone about two hours to find out when these boxes are to be sent away. To-morrow, I remember, is the day for the steamboat to pass Parachuccola, on its way down, and I think it likely they will be off with them very early in the morning."

The plantation of Mr. Belezer was about a mile from Lawtonville. Thither Ben briskly walked, and, cautiously entering his father's cabin, went to the bed and, gentlj waking the old man, whispered in his ear that he wished him to get up and come out. His mother, too. heard the words, and, recognizing Ben's speech, for he spoke in the negro dialect they were accustomed too, she followed Ben and the old man quietly out into a pine barren near by. Ben, in a short time, explained what had happened, and what were his plans for escaping to the North, and how he should communicate with them after he reached the land of freedom, and lay a safe scheme for them and all the children to escape from bondage.

Procuring a hatchet, some gimlet-screws, a gimlet, some provisions and a change of clothing, Ben returned to his trembling wife, on his way securing a little buckskin bag of silver, which he had carefully treasured under the clapboards of his former cabin. Tearing himself from them, he was again with Sue before the two hours had expired. She had not been disturbed by any noise or movement save that of her own throbbing heart. Ben brought in a large empty box from the yard, which he had observed while at the house a few days before, very similar to one of those in the parlor. He then pried open the lid of the largest of the packed boxes, and, with Sue's aid, transferred the contents to the other, after which, to avoid making a noise, he screwed down the lid, taking care to break off the lower ends of the nails in the lid of the box, which was already directed, so that it might appear to be nailed down. By means of screws he fixed two or three pickets, which he had ripped off the fence, in such a way on the inside of the lid, that by getting into the box he could fasten it down tightly, and yet readily open it when necessary. He bored several gimlet holes in diflerent parts of the box in a slanting direction, so as to admit air and some light without giving opportunity to those outside to see within ; and he bored one directly through on each side, in such position that he could catch an occasional view of what might be passing. These he filled up with the stubs of nails, to be removed as he might have occasion. Having put in their bundle, and bags of implements and provisions, and having fastened them so as to prevent their rolling about, they put out the lightwood torch they had in the chimney, and carefully (it being now near dawn) adjusting themselves in the box, and drawing the slide, made all fast and snug.

In about a half hour they heard the wagon wheels rattling in the yard; the front door opened, and the voice of Mr. Belezer made their hearts beat heavily.

In a moment they found themselves lifted and soon set down in the yard. The otker box was next brought out and laid beside it ; then several other packages.

The negro tilted the box for his master to look under. Seeing no direction there, he said : " Perhaps this is not to go, bring the wagon-hammer here and raise the lid."

In a few minutes the negro returned with the tool, and the lid was unscrewed. The examination of the contents being satisfactory, the lid was again replaced and a few nails driven n beside the screwing to make it all safe; the proper direction was marked on it with some soot and water, and all were quickly placed in the wagon. As the negro started off, Mr. Belezer charged him to be sure and get a bill of lading, and our fugitives were fairly on their way. George, as was common in Carolina, rode on the near horse instead of in the wagon, and, from the time he had answered "yes, sir." to his master, until they had reached the ford of Boggy Branch, some miles from Lawtonville, he had not ceased to sing a Icud hymn tune he had learned at the Methodist camp-meeting. Ben and Sue, taking advantage of this, occasionally addressed each other in a whisper. As the wagon neared the ford, George suddenly checked up his song ready to stop his horses for watering. At that moment the sound of a rather loud whisper reached his ear.

With a word or two muttered so low as not to be articulate, he let down the check lines, and, mounting again, drove into the middle of the ford, and there let the horses stop and drink.

While the horses were drinking, Ben took the opportunity to remove his revolver from the position in which he had placed it, so as to have it handy and yet without endangering their own lives by an accidental discharge. Unfortunately, however, he had probably left it cocked, and just as he thought he had located it safely, by some unaccountable means, a barrel was discharged, and a ball passed through the bottom of the box and wagon. The horses took fright and ran, and George himself was much frightened, but succeedeil in keeping the wagon in the road. After running about a quarter of a mile, he got them soothed and finally stopped.

Ben and Sue liad been consulting about some plan to have their box so placed on the boat and ship as to prevent it from being pressed down by other freight; and it was also desirable to have it so placed that Ben could occasionally raise the lid. He felt assured that he might safely make George acquainted with the state of things, and perhaps secure his aid. The bo.x they were in was in the hinder part of the wagon, and the trunks and smaller bo.xes were piled up on the forward large bo.x.

After leavincr Pomp, there was a long reach of pine forest, through which their road passed. Ben carefully raised the lid of the box, and slipped out of the back of the wagon ; then, watching his opportunity, he slipped into a thicket on the side of the road, concealed by the brush, g..t ahead of the horses and issued into the road from the thicket. George immediately recognized him, and called out to him :

" When you put de box in de steamboat, you see to it to hab it put way dere wid nuffin on de top ob it. An dere is a black man on de steamboat what is de porter, you gib him dis dollar, and tell him Belezer's Ben axes him to see specially to dat box, and go wid it wen it is to go on de Philadelphia steamship, and see heself dat it isn't kivered up wid udder tings. Tell him dere is someting in it ob mine, and he must see to its bein' all right."

Georce pledged himself to do all he could to carry out his plan of escape, and Ben promised when he got safelv in the North he would do what he could to inform him how to make his way also out of bondage.

The steamboat arrived in Savannah in due time, and, the next morning, the baggage with our fugitives was safely deposited on board the steamship. A little before the ship loosed from the wharf, the porter of the steamboat gently tapped on the box, and said in a low tone, '" All is right."

Some months or so previous to this time, Ben had been with his master to Savannah, and, on the way, he had become acquainted with the porter, and ascertained that he was a regular atrent for the underground railroad, and from hira got the idea of fugitives escaping as freight.

After meeting with various vicissitudes, the fugitives won the kindness of a railroad conductor, who supplied them with a free ticket from Cleveland to Detroit, and instructed them how to reach that place. The next evening the fugitives were safely on the steamboat, and the morning after in Detroit ; whence, without delay, they passed over into Canada, where, for the present, we shall leave them.

The Mysterious Cave

The reader must now go back to the year 1855. A few days after the encounter with the Indians at Arena, Dr. Bruce was sitting up, after his family had all retired to bed. He had been absent from home during the eventful scenes of the few past days, and he had just been listenin<T to the detailed account of them. While meditating upon what he had heard, he saw the figure of a man approaching very slowly. As he drew near, he observed that he had the gait, mien and general appearance of a Carolina field negro.

Receiving an affirmative answer, the black, in a confidential tone, related his story ; that he was called "Sam, a slave of Planter Smith's, of South Carolina, a former neighbor of Dr.

Bruce. How he hail been sohl to a Texas trader, and made his escape on a steamboat. Seeing a bale of goods addressed to Prairie du Chien, he had thought of Dr. Bruce. He had brought his sister's little boy, .Joe, along with him, whom he had concealed in the cave of Coon Bluff. In answer to a query regarding tlie lad's age, the negro replied, by asking,

" He intended to live in Madison, but had not moved there yet, and when he lost his daughter he concluded he would not stay in this country any longer. But what made you ask me if I knew Wizena ? "

" Caze you see. Mass William, Joe was born bout de same time dat Miss Wizena was, and you know .Joe is Mr. Belezer's brudder's chile, at leas day say he is. When dey was babies, Joe an Miss Wizena look bery much alike, only Joe was a little darker. Well, you see, my Massa hate everyting look like Belezer, an he use to treat dat boy shameful, so when I was cummin off, I tink bess to bring him long. My sister was dead dese six munts, an dere was nobody to look after de chile, an I fraid Massa would buse um too much."

The Doctor finally told him that he would collect a few dollars for him, enough to pay his and the boy's passage to Milwaukee, and friends there would help them to get to Canada in a vessel. Sam thanked him. and then asked him numerous questions about the Northern country and Canada, and then about the Belezers, and how Wizena got drowned.

The Doctor then went into the house and brought out a basket containing a quantity of provisions, cooked and uncooked, which he handed to him. The negro took the basket with a "tank you, sir," and walked briskly back the way he had come, which led round the corner of a barn. As the Doctor turned to go into the iiouse, he was arrested by a shrill child's voice crying : " Father, lather, oh father !" It was in the direction of the barn. He ran immediately to the corner of the barn, and, looking round, he saw the negro fifty yards ahead holding what appeared to be rather a small boy. The child was crying plaintively and begging not to go back to the cave.

About a week after he had seen Sam, he was visiting a patient in the neighborhood of Coon Bluff, and, taking the opportunity, he ascended the bluff to the mouth of the cave. The cave was one excavated by human hands, avowedly for the purpose of hunting a golden treasure, which a tradition among the Indians had led a company of white men to dig into the bluff in pursuit of; but it was the general impression in the neighborhood, that it was really a hidingplace for counterfeiters and their implements. The Doctor looking in, and seeing only a long, dark, narrow passage, stopped near the entrance to listen for some sound within. He could barely catcii the acconted wonls of the negro, apparently speaking to some one whose answers were not at all audible at that distance. He then proceeded slowly through the dark passage, which he found too low for an upright position, and at length reached the place where he could hear much that was said.

" But you might go from here to Madison on the stage, and then to Milwaukee on the railroad, and when you get to Milwaukee, there are plenty of chances to Canada in the steamers and lake vessels."

" Jis so. But you see dat was de berry ting dat help Massa to track me right yer. An da was de boy, like a little fool stannin right at de mout ob de cave. I yerre him say, wa you. Uncle Sam ? jis as I was guine to call de chile in. My Laud, says I, dat's Massa's voice sarten. I yer um scratch a match gin the rock. I knowed dat was my time if ebber. I run iiard as I could, I kotch de chile up in my arms, and de way I run down de hill, I tell you nebber was de like ob it in dese parts befo'. Mass shoot he gun at me. I know no mi)re arter dat ; when I awake I see I was in de cave. Ma.ssa stayed wid me seberal days - him an anoder white man. At las he say. dis will nebber do, my time wut more dan dis mulatto rascal is wut; I'll take Joe along, and I'll leab you to bring dis fellaw when he gets well nuff. After he gine. he come back ne.xt day, he say, Sam how you do now ? I say I no feel so well, Massa. You see I no want um to fine out I was gittin' well, so I tell um I no feel so well. So he say as he feel my wris - why, Sam, you hab no fever now, you'll soon be well. I say. maybe I'll be well in hebben. lie say, oh, pooh. Arter awhile he say, Sam, you run way to git you freedom, well, now, don't you want your freedom so it can nebber be taken from you 't Now you see I can ketch you, nebber mind wa you go. But if you will be a good fellow and do just as I tell you. I'll gib you free papers as soon as I git back from Californy. I hate so to go into slavery I 'grees to it, I sorry I 'grees to it, but I's in fur it, and now I must wait ray time."

" Yes, he bring a man yer naraed Gineral, an' he say, Sam, de old Gineral yer, will settle a place close by de creek down da, and when he gits a house he will be near to tend to you and de chile. lie say I let de Gineral hab some money to help pay fur settle he place ; but you mustn't leave the cave till de old Gineral tell you. Den he charge me nebber to go anywhere dat folks can see me, for ef you does, says he, you will surely git into trouble. He ticklar charge me to keep from Dr. Bruce. He say ef de Gineral eber lam dat I go to Dr. Bruce, he will send me right away and hab me taken to de court, and de court will send me to Texas. I says to myself, I knows frum dat who's ray bes fren. But I say wuft'a I got fur to do wid Dr. Bruce':' But de long and de short ob it is. he gib me some money, an' he say, good-bye Sam ; and him and de udder white man gone way, left de ole Gineral in yer wid rae. I b'live de ole Gineral keeps a watch on me all de time - I spect he gits mighty well paid fur it."

Here Sam ceased, and the other observed that he had stayed as long as he could, and now he must start back for Prairie du Chien. On hearing this, tiie Doctor passed rapidly out of the cave, and waited behind a projecting portion of rock until the visitor came out. He then followed and overtook him in the road leading toward Helena, and, saluting him, inquired who he was. The man, a very light mulatto, after giving his own name and place of residence, said :

" I helped to get a colored man and a little boy off from New Orleans to Prairie du Chien, and, when I saw an advertisement offering a reward for hira and the child, knowing something about this place, I put him in the way of finding it; and I told him that when he could get a chance to see you, you would advise hira what to do. But his master soon came after hira, and some person along the way told hira the man was in()uiring for a place called Coon Bluff, and, by that raeans, he found hira up there in the cave. I was anxious to get here to put him on his guard, but I was too late."

The Doctor's time did not allow him to protract the conversation, but, saying, " I must investigate that matter,'' he returned to see his patient at the log cabin near by, while the negro on toward Helena.

In the course of a few days, the Doctor paid another visit to the cave, this time taking a dark-lantern with him. He proceeded, stooping low, until he arrived at the end of a long passage. It terminated abruptly, and he was evidently beyond the place where the conversation took place which he had overheard on his first visit. He used his lantern to examine the walls ; but could not discover the slightest indication of any passage or door. Returning carefully and examining all the way, he came to within two hundred feet of the entrance, where, on the north side of the passage, he found a small aperture, about large enough for a man's head, through which the sound of human voices reached his ear. He recognized the voice of the old General. Now, the reader must understand that this was the sobriquet of an old bachelor who had no particular home, except that he lived about Arena, and made himself quite at home in whatsoever house he happened to be ; not only because he felt quite easy himself, but because, in a, good-natured way, he made every one feel pleasant about him. He gave much of the neighborhood gossip, and much of his own invention, but generally in a very harmless way. He prided himself on being a Democrat, and, therefore, always was prepared to defend the party, whether of the Northern or Southern wing ; but, although he defended the Democracy without exception, yet it would never have been an easy matter to get the General to run down a fugitive slave. His heart was too good for this ; and yet the same amiability would make him promise the slaveholder to do all he could for him.

The (Jeneral finally bid Sam " good-day, " and soon the Doctor, having closed his lantern, found the light from the entrance of the cave also closed out, and for a moment got a glimpse of the General's form, and discovered at the same time a narrow stream of light which passed from the aperture to the opposite side of the passage. The Doctor, then looking in, could distinctly see that there was a narrow fissure opposite the hole into which he now pushed his entire head, but, not getting it far enough he withdrew it, and, running his whip-handle through, he discovered that he was separated from another vacant space about two feet wide by a wall of rock not more than a foot thick. He determined then to make another search for the place where the General had come out, for he had certainly seen him pass out of the mouth of the cave. He then proceeded all the way to the entrance of the cave, examining the wall carefully on that side of the passage, but no discovery whatever could he make; he also looked on the outside, hoping to find some other entrance into the cave. As he sat resting himself on the top of the bluff behind and above the he had just left, Sam emerged from that same entrance and ran rapidly down thebluflf into the openings with an empty bucket in his hand. He was probably going to the creek for water. The Doctor re-entered, ami, opening his lantern, threw the full glare of light upon the walls before him. About three rods from the entrance, at a very low place, near which he supposeil the old General had seemed to shut out the light by filling up the passage, the Doctor discovered a slight curve toward the south, somewhat descending, and presently another toward the north, and then somewhat ascending and curving to the west again, which soon led him into an apartment where hung a lantern. This was an irregular room about seven feet high, and from fifteen to twenty feet wide, an(l about twenty-five feet long. In one corner was a rough bedstead and two or three comforts and blankets, and in another was a smaller bedstead, upon which were sheets, blankets and a coverlet. There were also a table and some chairs. The Doctor was wondering how he got there; after searching in vain for a trap door in the apartment, as he had supposed there was, judging from Sam's movements and remarks, he returned to search the passage more carefully, but finally came out at the entrance without any new discovery. lie only saw the rough walls, sometimes of clay and sand, sometimes a jagged rock, sometimes a stone presenting its fiat surface ; but nowhere an indication of any other passage.

" It is the strangest thing," said he to himself, as he took his seat out of the way of Sam's discovering hira on his return. Sam entered the cave with the bucket of water. The Doctor let him get so fir as not to interrupt him by his own movemeats, and then followed him without taking time to light his lantern. Having proceeded some distance, he heard Sam's voice to his right, saying: " Yer darlin', come up now, I got a cool drink a water fur you." At the same time the streak of light was seen on the left wall of the passage. He listened and heard a child's voice say : " I wish you would let me go with you to get the water." The tone was rather delicate for a boy, and the Doctor thought remarkably refined for a mulatto child from a Southern plantation. He concluded he must have been accustomed to living in his master's house, who, although a bachelor, had nephews and nieces almost always with him. But it rather excited his curiosity to see the boy. Again he lighted his lantern and up and down tlie passage he passed and repassed, but no way could he find again into the chamber. He now determined to call out for Sam.

The Doctor thought to himself he had tried that enough, nevertheless he followed the direction of the negro, and going, without obstruction several hundred feet, he found himself in the same chamber he had been in before.

" I dunno, sir ; sometimes I think dere is, and sometimes I tink dere aint. One time I bin gone out, when I come back I couldn't git in. I strike my light, but I couldn't see no way fur git in year, and den I gone out agin an come back aji I walk along wid my lantern and keep a walking right ahead an (you believe it) I come right out de cave same place zactly I came in. Well, dat's funny, says I. Well, I come back, an as I come long de passage, I keep call Joe, Joe, Joe ! An I walk on same as I did befo, an yer I is in dis room same as ebber."

'' No, I nebber find out who dat was. Joe say he was a man wid a big black beard, an he say he lib about tirty miles off at a place, I furgit what he call um."

-' Oh, I furgit; you no bin know my Massa, Mr. Smith, was yer. But, Mass William. I not want you to say nuttin about it to nobody. I know you is a fren to de colored man, and yon wouldn't want to do me harm, so I'll tell i/ou.'

He then went over the same the Doctor had already overheard, and concluded by saying : " Well, Mass William, yer I is, an I is boun by an oat. I nebber swear I wouldn't lef yer ; but

At this moment the child, which the Doctor had observed on the little bed, and which he thought to be sleeping, began to sob. The Doctor rose from his seat and went toward the bed. But Sam said : '- Nebber mine the chile. Doctor ; you come wid me ; I want to tell you sumfin." The Doctor then turned and followed Sam out of the cave. When out, Sam said : " Mass William, in my oat I sware I would not only no tell myself wat it is, but I wouldn't let anybody get a chance for the chile to tell. So you see, Doctor, ef you ebber get a chance at de chile it hab to be without me know um. Eben de Gineral had to promise he would nebber talk to de chile fore JIassa would gib him de money; an when de Gineral does come yer I fus put de chile in anodder room."

The Doctor took his departure feeling greatly perplexed. He did not wish to jeopardize the interest of Sam and .Joe, and he felt greatly impressed with the idea that there was something wrong about the doings of Smith. He finally concluded to wait for further development, and to watch as closely as he could the movements about the cave. Matters passed on without any new developments for a year. The Doctor occasionally called to see Sam, but never got an opportunity to talk with the child. The old General, in about a year, got into very bad health, and necessarily neglected them, and, in the fall of 1856, called upon the Doctor and told him there were a brace of blackbirds that might need his attention. " I am," said he, "soon to leave this world, and it is a poor business to be engaged in trying to keep darkies caged up for their master. I never intended to let them go back into slavery if I could help it, but I thought I wouldn't do anything until I saw that he wasn't a-going to give them their freedom; then I would just step in and say that I could testify the niggers stayed here with his own permission, and then the law wouldn't give them to him. But I may die soon, and so I now tell you about it."

The old General said, that, knowing the Doctor to be a sincere friend to the colored people, and not knowing any one else who would be so likely to see to their interests, he had determined to satisfy his conscience byinfn-ming him that a mulatto man and his little white-skinned nephew were living in Coon Bluff; that their master was a Carolinian named Smith, who had first taken the boy from his uncle and had apparently gone to return no more, having left another white man with Sam to take him on when he got well ; that Smith called on him the next day with the boy, a verv delicate little fellow, who cried a great deal, and trembled, but said not a word, and made generous offers to him to look after them, which he accepted, and, while his health lasted, he had fulfilled his trust.

From those interviews he had come to the conclusion that Smith was engaged in something criminal, and he was a little afraid that the negroes themselves knew all about it, and that Smith and Sam were both afraid the little boy would let it out, and that was the reason he was never allowed to speak with the boy. " If," said the General, "he hadn't promised to give the boy his freedom, I should suspect that Smith had kidnaped him ; but, then, there was the advertisement in the New Orleans paper, describing both the man and the boy; so it couldn't be that. So I have come to the conclusion that Smith is working somehow witii a gang of counterfeiters, and that the niggers have to play some part in their game. But all things lock so curions that I want to wash my hands of it. I am in very poor health, and, God knows, I hain't got the best preparation for it, and I don't want any heavier load to carry."

The Doctor now determined to keep a more vigilant eye than ever upon the cave. There being no testimony whereby any legal proceedings could be hail, he felt assured if he undertook any open action at that time, it would only serve to put the parties on their guard, and prevent their detection. Sam himself always seemed to the Doctor to be very sincere and very anxious to get out of the difliculty he was in, and, from all that could be judged of his manner, he kept nothing back, except what he said he had bound himself to do and to keep the child from doing. He often expressed the wisii tiiat the matter could leak out without his having anything to do with it, or that somebody could talk to the child without his knowledge.

" Suppose," said the Doctor to him one day, " I should get out a writ of what is called habeas corpus, and bring an officer here to take you and the child before the court, and require you to show cause why you keep the cliild in confinement."

" Well, I see. Mass William, wid all you larnin, you make mistake some time. If you bin guine to do dat, what fur you no do urn widout tell me ? Now you tell me, when I is under oat, I hab fur to hinder you from do it. But even if you did do urn, how you gwine git at me wid de officer so you kin git de chile. Did you ebber see de chile ? ''

"Yes, I saw it once, lying on that bed in the corner - or rather, I heard him crying in the bed, and you drew me away to prevent my talking to him."

" Sara, you puzzle me I You are so conscientious about your oath, and yet it is to do something, or be aiding something you think is bad. It is a strange and mysterious matter ! "

" Well, Mass William, I tell you de chile hab to be taken care ob. Ef anybody was to get hold of de chile widout my knowledge, and widout my helpin um to do it, and could git um to him house, and so keep de child and take care ob um heself, and gib me a chance fur to git to Can'da, I tank de Lord from de bottom ob my heart. But I no see no way fur all dis to happen. I tinks about it mightily ; and I is hopin dat Massa will come befo' long and set de matter all straight. But I hab my fears bote ways. I don't like dese men what comes about de cave and stays here sometimes more'n a week. How dey gits in I nebber kin tell, and when dey goes out I dunno. Dey treats me well, but I fears all ain't right."

The Doctor now saw that the only thing he could do must be either by some stratagem to get away the child, or wait until Smith returned from California, and then keep a sharp lookout upon his movements. The former plan he frequently tried, but the negro would find him at it, and express his regrets at the failure.

In the summer of 1857, one beautiful morning when the prairie was radiant with sunshine and flowers, and the tall bluffs, with their green oaks interspersing the open pasturage, and here and there jutting rocks seeming to rival each other in attracting an admiring gaze, the Doctor, assistetl by his sons, and a German named Christian Hottman, were on their way to survey some islands in the Wisconsin River. They had to pass near a bluff, called the Sugar Loaf, on account of its height and shape, which stands a mile or more below Coon Blufl', and is a continuation of the same range of hills. On the top of the Sugar Loaf lies a rock about six feet high, and nearly a cube in its shape. No one travels the prairie below without fixing the eye frequently upon the apex of the Sugar Loaf The attention of the party was called to a white spot surmounting the rock. On approaching nearer, it appeared about the height of a child ten or twelve years old. A white sheet was closely drawn around the slender form. The short, dark hair made an impressive contrast with the white robe and the pale face, and ever and anon there came a shrill cry, " father, father, father! " The party hastened around the bluff to ascend it, and in doing so lost sight of the object. On reaching the summit, it had vanished. There were the footprints of a man on a sandy spot by the rock, but the party could make no further discovery. Nor did any one else in the neighborhood know of any child who could have been there at that time.

The Doctor the next day visited the cave, expecting to call at the hole for Sam. but instead of this he found himself as he had only once before, directly in the chamber. Sam was not there, but there was his Prairie du Chien friend. An explanation was soon made. He had been on a visit to some of his ol<l friends in the vicinity, and had called upon Sam. He had found him the day before in great trouble of mind. When Sam went for water, he had as usual put the child down into an apartment which was closed by a stone at its entrance. Upon taking up the stone and calling for the child on his return, he received no response. Supposing the child was sleeping on the bed he kept there for him, he went down himself, but could not find him. He searched all about, but could see no place where he could get out, unless he had raised the stone and come out thiU way, and that seemed an impossibility. He then searched about among the bluffs and ravines, and at last found him, with only his shirt and a sheet round him, on the top of the Sugar Loaf. He found out from the boy that he had discovered a place where he got out of his room, and by keeping on through a very long passage, he finally came out by a flight of steps on the top of the Sugar Loaf, the trap-door of which opened of itself when the child came to it, and, as he stepped out, slammed down again. Sam ran back here with the child as fast as he could, and tried to get him to show the place where he got out, but he said he could not persuade the child to tell him. " I think it likely he could not find it again. But Sam became so alarmed that he said he would risk it to take the child along and try to get to Canada. I got them on the railroad last night, and if they met with good luck they are on the lake now. He begged me to take these things out here that belonged to you, and leave them at the mouth of the cave, and then to call on you and thank you for your kindness to him."

Recovery Of The Lost Child

Immediately after their arrival in Canada, Ben and Sue united in holy wedlock. Sue then obtained a situation as a house girl, while Ben was tempted with the offer of high wages to go on a voyage in a sailing vessel to Milwaukee. It was a singular coincidence that his vessel was lying in the river at Milwaukee at the same time that Sam was making his way there.

To prevent as much as possible the gaze of curiosity, and make detection the more diflScult, Sam had taken the precaution to apply thejuice of a plant he had found on Coon Bluff, to the face and hands of the child, so as to give the complexion a nearer approximation to his own color. The deeper tinge was the more necessary after so long a confinement in the cave. He had, indeed, frequently taken the child with him to the mouth of the cave and allowed some sunshine and air, but it was not enough to keep up a tanned complexion. Indeed, Joe, when most under the influence of a Southern sun, was so white and beautiful a boy that no Northern man would have suspected he had any African blood.

Sam liad observed soon after he got into the car, that a man passed his seat whom he recognized as one of the company he had frequently seen in the cave. The man did not appear to notice him, and he took care afterward to prevent his being observed, by keeping his face in the shade and by sitting remote from the lamp. But Sam was mistaken ; he was, however, not questioned during thejourney. On arriving in Milwaukee, as the day was dawning, he inquired of the first colored man he met, where he could find a vessel going to Canada. The man very readily accompanied him in search of one. There was but one in the river, and that was not to leave until the next day. Sam engaged passage for himself in the steerage, and, having done so, got the child into a berth and sat down quietly on a bale of goods near by. The hands were very busy unloading the vessel. Among them was Ben, who, in a few moments, Sam saw and recognized.

Ben looked around for the speaker, and startled at his own recognition of Sam ; but, with his characteristic prudence, immediately recovered himself on observing a suspicious-looking white man leaning against a pile of goods, evidently watching Sam. Instead of replying to Sam, Ben pretended not to notice his question as directed to himself, and, lifting a bale of goods, immediately passed out of the vessel. He had on a working dress, and, as he had been handling some dirty articles of freight, he was by no means neat in his dress ; in a word, he answered just the description of the advertisement, so far as his outward appearance indicated ; and, as Sam had called him by name, this was additional ground for supposition. The suspicious-looking white man was none other than a Deputy Marshal who had the authority of Mr. Belezer to apprehend him. He had been employed, by the man whom Sam had seen the night before, to look after Sam himself, while measures were being taken to bring him and the child before Judge Miller, of the United States District Court. Immediately calling for assistance to watch Sam, he himself awaited a favorable opportunity for seizing Ben. lie saw his powerful frame, and he had learned the history of his escape. Taking out of his pocket a set of irons, and with two Deputies to aid him, he sprang sudileiily upon Ben, while he was stooping to take up a bale of goods, and in a moment had him beyond the power of resistance. The movement was so expeditious, that, before the hands at work on the vessel had time to make inquiry as to the matter, Ben was hurried off directly' to Judge Miller's residence, and the functionary, with his usual alacrity in such cases, granted a hearing at once, although he had not yet taken his breakfast.

In a hall-hour they were at the court house, prepared for the examination; and by that time were collected a crowd to witness the proceedings. Ben, as soon as he saw that he had no power of resistance, had determined to keep perfectly quiet, so, without saying a word, he had walked calmly and quietly with the officers, and was now sitting in the court house, manifesting not the least anxiety about his own case, but occasionally looking sternly at the Judge. The Deputy showed his authority for making the claim, and the Judge read the description of his person. It represented the fugitive as named Ben. and there was a witness to prove that he had been saluted by that name, although he had entered himself on the vessel's books by another name. His size, his slovenly appearance, his very black complexion, the loss of a front tooth, all corresponded with the paper. One more thing was alone wanted to complete the testimony. lie was represented as having the distinctive speech, very marked, of a Carolina slave, and the advertisement went on to say that, as the slaves could not read or write for themselves, the probability was, that, if they were found with free papers, they would be from the hand of some Abolitionist.

But Ben, who was looking down at the time, did not seem to notice that the Judge was addressing him. The Judge repeated the question, but still no answer. Again the Judge said:

Tills time Ben looked up, but, instead of answering, he cast his eyes about, as though he were looking to see to whom the Judge was speaking. A gentleman leaned forward and told him he had better answer the Judge.

" Has the prisoner anything to say in his own behalf':'" asked the Judge of a lawyer who had stepped up to Ben at that moment to offer his services.

"He says, sir," said the lawyer, "that if your Honor will have his irons taken off, he will speak for himself and I, sir, will be his security, if your Honor pleases, that he shall not escape before the examination closes."

" I will write it, may it please your Honor." And Ben, reaching to the table, wrote on a sheet the name James Ward, in a clear, bold hand, and, handing it to the Judge, returned to his place.

" May it please your Honor," said Ben, " I shall occupy a very short time in my own defense. It is hard, very hard, that in a country boasting itself to be the land of the free and home of the brave, a man without crime may at any time, by the laws of a far-off State, be seized, ironed, hurried through an ex parte form of trial, and rushed, as fast as steam can lend velocity to cupidity, to the cotton and rice plantations of the South. What defense can I make, sir ; nay, what defense could your honored self make, against one who may claim you, even white as you are, under the Fugitive Slave Act ? Had the man who sought to recover his slave simply limited himself within the requisitions of that act, which your courts, in violation of all true and correct principles, from Cicero to Blackstone, have been pleased to recognize as law, he would, sir, have indited his affidavit and advertisement in terms so general that, ere this moment, your Honor may have handed me over, a shackled victim of official insolence, to be, not a slave on a Carolina plantation, for that I should never submit to, but tempted to shed human blood to secure my liberty."

At this point, the crowd could no longer be restrained, and the court house shook with the uproarious applause of the then gathered multitude. The noise having subsided, the .Judge, with unusual blandness of manner, said :

"Mr. Ward, it is quite unnecessary to proceed; there has evidently been a mistake, and the agent of the claimant may withdraw his application, for I certainly cannot grant it in this case.''

While Ben's case had been proceeding, Sam and his charge had been brought in, in this case without the irons, and had been seated opposite to Ben and where he could see them distinctly. Addressing himself to the lawyer who had volunteered his services in liis own case, he asked him whether he was an Abolitionist or not. On being answered in the affirmative, he whispered him to get for him from the vessel his coat that was in his berth, and to bring it carefully, as there was something in the pocket which he might need. He did not wish to leave now, as one of his downtrodden class was to be placed upon trial. The lawyer soon returned with the coat, and, it being a very good one, it gave Ben quite a changed appearance for the better.

The examination proceeded, and, when the description of Joe was given, Ben, for the first time, noticed the child with Sam. The description in this case was not so specific as in the other, and the parties came fully within the letter of the advertisement and affidavit. Sam, from policy, that he might have a claim upon his master to fulfill his promise, determined, as soon as he was taken, to make no effort at defense. And so frightened was the child that nothing could be got by any one from that quarter.

Although it had been only a little more than two years since the separation in South Carolina, Ben's speech was so different that it was not recognized by the child, whose eyes were fixed all the time upon the floor.

The case had proceeded to that point when, if any defense was to be set up, it was now high time that it should be offered. The same lawyer as in the other case stepped over to Sam and asked him if he should defend him. He shook his head. The Judge then said :

" Mr. Black, I do not see that I have now anything else to do than to grant your certificate as the agent of Mr. Smith. This man does not attempt to deny the claim ; and, although on account of that poor little boy, whose interesting countenance touches my sympathy, I could wish he were free, yet the law is plain, and I must do my duty."

"Would it be proper for me to testify in this case, sir? For, may it please your Honor, r can demonstrate to your satisfaction that what I say is true."

"It is a little out of order," said the Judge, " but, if there be any good reason why I should not grant the certificate, I wish to know it. This little boy is nearly white; to discourage kidnaping white children, I will give him all the chance the occasion allows."

" If your Honor please, in order to establish firmly what I testify to, I will recall your mind to the fact that I said too much specification, in my case, defeated the purpose of the claimant. Strangely enough, your Honor is equally deceived in this case. What is the name of the child ? It is said in the paper to be Joseph or Joe. For your own satisfaction, inquire for yourself of the child."

" Little boy, will you tell me what your name is?" But the child kept gazing on the floor without reply, either from fear or from the promise to Sam.

" Well, may it please your Honor, I will give the name," said Ben. Sam looked at him attentively, but without exhibiting any strong emotion. " The name I give is Wizena Belezer."

The child looked up, screamed, sprang from her seat and clung around him, saying, " Oh, Ben, Ben I Where's father? Where's my raotlier? Are they dead? Ben, are they dead ? "

" This is the child," said Ben, *' the only daughter of him who has claimed me as his slave. She was supposed to be dead; how she carae into this position, I know not." He then raised Wizena in his arms, and said : "Your father and mother are livinf; in Carolina."

As he attempted to put her down on the platform by the Judge, " Oh, Ben, Benl Don't leave me, for pity's sake, don't leave me," ehe pleaded.

'- You are in safe hands," said Ben, as he succeeded in extricating himself from her. Then, drawing his revolver out of his pocket, he exclaimed : " The man who attempts to stop me, does it at his own peril." Walking by Sam, he touched him on his shoulder and said, '' Follow me." No one attempted to stop them, for all were either taken up with Wizena, or stupefied with amazement. They reached Canada by the underground railroad in safety.

After succeeding in pacifying the child, she told her story in a simpb way. She had been seized by a man near the river, whom she knew to be Mr. Smith. He had with him little Joe. lie took out of Joe's bundle a suit of clothing, and maile her wear them. A man that was with him, took Joe and carried him to a skifF down the river, while Smith, after cutting her hair short, took her to the cave near Arena. As the reader knows the rest of the history better than Wizena did, it is unnecessary to tell all that she had to say.

Mr. Belezer not only immediately sent free papers to Ben and his wife, in token of their appreciation of his noble conduct, but again returned to the North to reside, and this time brought with him all his slaves, and emancipated them.