Woman on the American Frontier: A Valuable and Authentic History of the Heroism, Adventures, Privations, Captivities, Trials, and Noble Lives and Deaths of the "Pioneer Mothers of the Republic"Fowler, William Worthington
History
Woman on the American Frontier: A Valuable and Authentic History of the Heroism, Adventures, Privations, Captivities, Trials, and Noble Lives and Deaths of the "Pioneer Mothers of the Republic"
Fowler, William Worthington
Frontier and pioneer life -- United States; Women -- United States -- Biography
He fell into a doze, and when he woke the sun was up. "Can you stay here
all alone for a few hours," inquired Mrs. H------, after feeding her
patient, "I am going to see if I can fetch some one to help us out of
this." "Go," he answered. Placing the flask and broth within reach of her
husband, and kissing him, she sprang up the acclivity as though she had
wings, reached the trail and sped along it southward. Fifteen miles would
bring her to the spot where the two trails met: here she hoped to meet some
wayfaring train of emigrants, or some party of hunters coursing through the
defiles of the mountains.
Sooner than she expected, after reaching the fork, her wish was gratified.
In less than half an hour six hunters came up with her, and, hearing her
story, three of them volunteered to go and bring her husband to their
cabin, which stood half a mile away from the trail. A horse was furnished
to Mrs. H------, and the three hunters and she rode rapidly to the scene of
the disaster.
Skipping down the declivity like _chamois_, and helping their brave
companion, who was now quite fatigued with her exertion, they reached the
rocky shelf. The mountain air and the delicious consciousness that he would
live, coupled with implicit confidence in the success of his wife's errand,
had acted like a charm on the vigorous organization of the wounded man, and
he begged that he might be immediately removed.
He was accordingly carried carefully to the trail, and placed astride of
one of the horses in front of one of the hunters. After a slow march of
four hours, he was safely stowed in the cabin of the hunters, where, in a
few weeks, he entirely recovered from his injuries.
It might be readily supposed after such a grave experience of the dangers
of mountain life, that our heroine and her husband would have been inclined
to return to their old home on the sunny prairies of Illinois. On the
contrary, they strongly desired to continue the prosecution of their Oregon
enterprise, and were only prevented from carrying it out by the lack of a
team and the necessary utensils, etc.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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