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THE MISSOURI OUTLAWS

by

GUSTAVE AIMARD

Author of "Prairie Flower," "Indian Scout," etc., etc.

Translated by Percy B. St. John







London
John And Robert Maxwell
Milton House, Shoe Lane, Fleet Street
and
35, St. Bride Street, Ludgate Circus.
1877




NOTICE.

Gustave Aimard was the adopted son of one of the most powerful Indian
tribes, with whom he lived for more than fifteen years in the heart of
the prairies, sharing their dangers and their combats, and accompanying
them everywhere, rifle in one hand and tomahawk in the other. In turn
squatter, hunter, trapper, warrior, and miner, Gustave Aimard has
traversed America from the highest peaks of the Cordilleras to the
ocean shores, living from hand to mouth, happy for the day, careless
of the morrow. Hence it is that Gustave Aimard only describes his
own life. The Indians of whom he speaks he has known--the manners he
depicts are his own.




PREFACE


Very few of the soul-stirring narratives written by GUSTAVE AIMARD
are equal in freshness and vigour to "The Missouri Outlaws," hitherto
unpublished in this country. The characters of the Squatter, the real,
restless, unconquerable American, who is always going ahead, and of
his wife and daughter, are admirably depicted, while his eccentric
brother is a perfect gem of description. The great interest, however,
of the narrative is centred in Tom Mitchell, the mysterious outlaw,
whose fortunes excite the readers' imagination to the utmost. There
can be no doubt he is one of the most original characters depicted by
the versatile pen of the great French novelist. In addition to being
a story of adventure, "The Missouri Outlaws" is also a love tale, and
abounds in tender pathos, the interest of which is well sustained in
"The Prairie Flower" and in its sequel, "The Indian Scout."

PERCY B. ST. JOHN.

London: _February, 1877._




CONTENTS


       I. THE GOOD SHIP PATRIOT
      II. SAMUEL DICKSON GIVES ADVICE TO HIS BROTHER
     III. A QUEER CUSTOMER
      IV. AN ALLIANCE OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE
       V. A GREAT MEDICINE COUNCIL
      VI. SAMUEL DICKSON HUNTS A MOOSE DEER
     VII. JOSHUA DICKSON BECOMES MASTER OF THE VALLEY
    VIII. DIANA DICKSON AND HER FOE
      IX. THEY MAKE AN ACQUAINTANCE
       X. WHO THE STRANGER WAS
      XI. EXPLANATIONS
     XII. HOW THE THREE TRAVELLERS WENT TO GEORGE CLINTON'S
    XIII. TOM MITCHELL
     XIV. SAMUEL AND JOSHUA
      XV. NEW CHARACTERS
     XVI. TOM MITCHELL AS REDRESSER OF WRONGS
    XVII. A DIPLOMATIC CONVERSATION BETWEEN TWO RASCALS
   XVIII. THE PRISONER
     XIX. IN WHICH TOM MITCHELL DISCOVERS THAT HONESTY
          IS A GOOD SPECULATION
      XX. A STRANGE CHASE
     XXI. CAPTAIN TOM MITCHELL, THE AVENGER
    XXII. A DESPERATE STRUGGLE



THE MISSOURI OUTLAWS




CHAPTER I.

THE GOOD SHIP PATRIOT.


On the 4th of August, 1801, a little after eight o'clock at night, just
as the last rays of the setting sun disappeared behind the heights
of Dorchester, gilding as they did so the summits of certain islands
scattered at the entrance to Boston Bay, some idlers of both sexes,
collected on Beacon Hill, at the foot of the lighthouse, saw a large
vessel making for the harbour.

At first it seemed as if the ship would be compelled to desist from her
design, as the wind was slightly contrary; but, by a series of skilful
manoeuvres, it at last passed by the danger which threatened, the sails
were one by one taken in and furled, and finally the anchor was cast
beside one of the many vessels in port.

A few minutes later nothing was to be seen on deck save one man walking
up and down doing duty as watch for the time being.

The vessel had, under cover of a dense fog, escaped from Brest, slipped
past the English cruisers, and finally, after many dangers, reached its
destination.

Descending into the cabin, we find two men seated at a table upon which
were glasses, bottles, pipes, and tobacco, conversing and smoking.

These were Captain Pierre Durand, a young man, with regular but rather
effeminate features, and yet a look of frank honesty, to which his
sparkling eyes, his broad forehead, his long waving hair, gave an
appearance of singular energy. Though every inch a sailor, there was a
refinement about him not generally found in his class.

His companion was a handsome and haughty young man, of about
two-and-twenty, of moderate height, but with very broad shoulders; he
was evidently of powerful make, with nerves of steel. His complexion
was olive; his hair long wavy black; his eyes were large and bold; the
expression of his countenance sombre and thoughtful, while at this
early age many a wrinkle caused by thought or suffering was to be
observed.

There had evidently been a warm discussion, for the captain was walking
up and down, a frown upon his brow. Suddenly, however, he reseated
himself and held out his hand across the table.

"I was wrong. Do not be vexed," he said.

"I am not angry, my good Pierre," he answered.

"Then why sulk with your friend?"

"I do not sulk, heaven knows; I am simply sad. You have reopened a
wound I thought forever closed," the other added with a sigh.

"Well, then, in heaven's name, if it be so," cried the captain, "let us
talk about something else--and above all, let us drink. This old rum is
a sovereign remedy for the blues. Your health, my friend."

Both drank after touching glasses, and then silence again ensued.

"Now, my dear Oliver," resumed the captain, "at last we are safe in
Boston. We leave tomorrow. What do you intend to do?"

"You remember our conversation at Brest?"

"I have not forgotten it, but I never seriously entertained the idea.
We had dined rather copiously."

"We were very sober. There were two bottles on the table, one empty
and the other nearly full. I then told you that though I had only just
returned to France after an absence of ten years, I was compelled to
leave at a moment's notice, and to leave without raising any suspicion.
I wanted to depart without anyone being able to obtain the slightest
clue; you remember," he added.

"I do, and I told you that I would run the blockade that very night, if
the weather turned out as bad as I expected. Did I keep my promise?"

"With all the loyalty of your honest heart. I also told you I intended
remaining in America."

"It is to that madcap resolution I object," said the captain
emphatically. "Why not stay with me? You are an excellent sailor--you
shall be my chief officer."

"No, my friend. I can accept nothing which can ever tempt me to return
to France," he answered.

"How you suffer!" sighed his friend.

"Horribly. Come, my friend, as we shall part for ever tomorrow, I will
tell you my history."

"Not if it makes you suffer."

"I will be brief. Sad as my story is, it is not very long."

"Go on," replied Captain Durand, filling up two more glasses of rum,
and lighting a fresh cigar for himself.

"I will not sermonise, but begin at the beginning. I was born in Paris,
but might be English, German, or even Russian, for all I know. I am
simply aware that my birthplace was Paris, in the house of a doctor,
where my mother took refuge. It was in the Rue St. Honore I first
saw the light but, as soon as I could be removed, was sent to the
Foundling. There I remained four years, until a loving young couple,
who had lost their only child, adopted me. They were poor, and lived on
the third floor of a wretched old house, in the Rue Plumet, where, I
must own, I had enough, but of very coarse, food."

"One day, however, fortune knocked at the door. My adopted mother was,
and still is, one of the handsomest women in Paris. By accident an old
friend, a distant relation, a man of high position, found her out. He
at once procured a lucrative appointment for my supposed parent, and
we moved to a splendid residence in the Faubourg du Roule. The friend,
who lived close by, at once began to visit us every evening, and, by a
curious coincidence, the husband always found business which required
his absence. He never returned until a quarter of an hour after the
other had left."

"Accommodating husband," sneered Durand.

"Just so. But, unfortunately for me, I became older, curious, was
always turning up when not wanted, and saying things which were not
required. It was decided that I was an incorrigible scamp, and must be
sent away."

"My adopted mother had relations at Dunkirk, and I was packed off to
them to be sent to sea as cabin boy. Then only did I discover that
