We now leave him in his lonesome prison, with no other society than the old apostate, Luman, and his dear Phila, while we get Sister Phelps out of the trouble she was in. After the fate of the prisoners seemed determined, she sank down exhausted on a block of wood in the open air amid the surrounding darkness. Here she was still mocked and insulted by the unfeeling rabble, till a certain young man, more feeling than the others, declared that he was not accustomed to see a female treated thus in America, and that if she had no home his father and mother would receive her kindly and give her protection under their roof till she could return to Illinois. He then went home, and in a few minutes returned with his mother, by whom she was kindly invited to their dwelling. On arriving there she was treated in the kindest manner for about two weeks, during which time her horse was kept from her and rode in search of the prisoners. They finally restored her horse and saddle to her, and she rode home in peace, where she eventually met her husband, and rejoiced that she had been, in some measure, the means of his deliverance.
And here I might as well inform the anxious reader of the final liberation of the two remaining prisoners. Mr. Follett remained in confinement for several months, and finally was dismissed and sent home to Illinois, where he met his family, who had been expelled from the State of Missouri, in common with others, during his confinement. And, last of all, the old apostate came out by fair acquittal. And should any of our readers have the curiosity to see the charming couple, whose singular courtship and history run through and make a principal thread of our narrative, they will call at the little town of Augusta, a few miles from Fort Madison, Iowa Territory, and inquire for "Luman and Phila," who were living there in quiet at the last accounts.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Reminiscence:—Resume my Wanderings:—Lost Again:—Storm:—Conversation:—Suspicious Characters:—Lost in a Swamp:—Strange River:—Retrace my Steps:—Cross the River:—Wild Scenery:—Strange Bedfellow:—Dawn:—Reach the Mississippi:—Cross the River in a Canoe:—Land on an Island:—Entangled in the Thickets:—Reembark:—Land in Illinois:—An Old Acquaintance:—Arrive at Quincy.
I suppose by this time the reader has either forgotten the circumstances in which he took leave of myself, or else is somewhat weary with the winding of the narrative and impatient for it to come to a close. The only apology I have to offer for the many digressions and wanderings through which he has been led is, that I consider it impolite and disrespectful to get myself out of a bad place until I have first seen my friends all safely out. True, I did not strictly observe this rule of good breeding in the escape itself; therefore it becomes me to take the more care to observe it now, when there is no danger, excepting that of being deserted by some of my readers before I am safely out. However, if you still wish to accompany me in all the windings of my wearisome and dangerous adventure we will now turn to the happy valley, where you recollect leaving me on the morning of the fifth of July in the act of breakfasting on a small biscuit, while, to all appearances, I was lost to myself and to all mankind.
After resting a few minutes I arose and travelled onward, without any way to determine the course I was travelling. After some miles, I came to a house in the woods, and ventured to inquire of the woman the way to Columbia, and what course it lay from there. By this means I learned that I was fourteen miles distant from the prison in a northerly direction. I then took a course directly opposite to her directions, and soon found myself among settlements, and in a kind of road, but very indirect and winding among fields and woods, or in the language of that county, among "clarens" and "timber." I paid but little respect to the road, but rather wandered around among the forests, and made my course as well as I could without being seen.
At last the clouds thickened and it began to rain. In the meantime I had again plunged into the depths of an unknown forest, and lost all idea of the true point of the compass. The air now became dense with thick clouds and mist, and the rain was pouring in torrents. At first I thought that rather than expose myself by another inquiry, I would sit down at the bottom of a large oak and wait patiently for the clouds to break away, so that I could see the sun, and thus determine my course, as to travel in uncertainty would exhaust my strength for naught. I accordingly sat down; but after waiting for a length of time, I found there was no prospect of seeing the sun, moon, or stars for some days to come. In the meantime I was becoming wet and cold, lame and stiff jointed from the effects of my exertions the night previous. I was also aware that hunger would soon be preying upon me, as I already felt very much in need of refreshment. I, therefore, arose and wandered on till I saw another house in the distance. I there ventured another inquiry, by which I was enabled to make my way through the windings of the forest, and finally to enter upon a vast prairie or untimbered plain without inhabitants. Through this plain there was a direct road to a place called Paris, which was now some twenty miles distant and directly on my way. Here I could travel in solitude, and have no difficulty in finding my way either by night or day; and should I chance to meet a traveller in pursuit, I could see him for some miles distant in the day time, and have time to leave the road and hide myself in the grass before he could be near me.
It was now drawing towards evening, and the rain was still pouring in torrents, while the wind blew almost to a tempest. I was weary exhausted with fatigue and hunger, and chilled and benumbed with rain and wind which had drenched me for some hours. It had been intention to travel through the night, but I now saw it was impossible. I would be obliged to rest my weary limbs somewhere; and to sit or lie down without shelter in such a tempest, and benumbed as I then was, would be death; or at least it would be what I could not endure; and to lodge at any house would expose me to be discovered and taken by pursuers. As night approached I hesitated for some time whether to continue to brave the tempest and to pass the night in the rain, or to run the risk of being taken by turning off the road and going a mile or two through the wet grass to a settlement which was in sight, in the borders of the wilderness, on the left of my road. At last I was compelled by the severity of the storm to choose the latter. I accordingly made for a house; but how was I to account for being a traveller, and on foot—as nearly all men in that country travel on horseback? However, my ingenuity soon prepared me a way to account for this suspicious circumstance.
As I drew near the house the owner stood in the door looking out upon the tempest and watching my approach—it being rather strange to see a person from the open plain amid such a tempest. As I drew near, all wet and dripping, I cried out very sociably, saying: "Sir, can you entertain a drowning man here this terrible night?" The answer was, "I reckon we mout: come in, stranger, you seem in a mighty bad fix." I hobbled in as well as I could, being very lame with walking, as well as benumbed with the storm; and without giving time for any more inquiry, I began to complain of the fatigue of walking, and how it had lamed me; at the same time observing that my horse had played a very bad trick with me; he had got away from me and strayed into the timber, where I could not find him. "Ah," said he, "how did you happen to lose him?" "Why," said I, "I am from Indiana, and have been out in your wild woods back here looking for land. I had been in the habit of letting my horse bait a little occasionally, as he never seemed inclined to leave till, last evening, he of a sudden wandered out of my sight in the woods, and dark coming on, I could not track him, and finally lost him; and, what is worse, he carried off my clothing and all the fixings I had with me, even to my shooting irons and ammunition. I shall now have to go clear to Paris on foot, and remain there a few days till I can advertise him and obtain him again."
"Oh!" exclaimed he, "it's a pity you should have such a heap of trouble. Where did you stay last night?" I replied "the devil himself could hardly answer that; for in hunting my horse I got benighted, and lost myself instead of finding him; however, I made my way out to the first cottage I could find, and took up with very curious fare, I assure you." "What part of Indiana are you from?" continued he. "From near Terre Haute," replied I. "What is the price of land in that country now?" he inquired. I replied that it had risen very much since the completion of the great national road; "indeed," said I, "as a specimen of the rise of property I could now take twenty-five dollars per acre for my little place in the backwoods, which a few years ago only cost me three dollars and seventy-five cents, so thought I would just mount my nag and ride west here, and take a look in Illinois and Missouri, and if I could suit myself I would go home and sell out, and come out here and purchase." "Well," said he, "I reckon you must do a heap better here than there, as we've a smart chance of land here that's very cheap, besides," continued he, "we can make corn here so easy; and then, agin, there's a power of range for cattle and horses." In this kind of conversation the evening passed off very sociably. After eating a hearty supper I retired to bed.