Rocky Mountain Sam — page 108: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ROCKY MOUNTAIN SAM, 99 his position in the car, so as to bring his writhing victim di- rectly over the deep and miry current of the near-flowing stream. ‘““Don’t—d-don’t, I tell you,” gasped Rube; but the words were quickly smothered in their source by his being soused head over ears into the center of the turbid waters. He was withdrawn, snorting and spluttering like a porpoise, only to be ducked under and under again; while the hun- ters yelled with laughter, and even the stoicism of some of the Indians relaxed into an irrepressible smile at the woe-begone appearance of their luckless comrade—who, be it said, had never been popular among them, notwithstanding his strenuous efforts to be so. “lh-th-this is d-d-d d mean, S-S-Sam,” spluttered the poor fellow. ‘‘You k-know I-I n-never treated you s-s-so—oh!” and under he went again, stirring up the muddy waters in his frantic struggle, and gasping for breath at every plunge. At length one of the Indians taking compassion upon him, or out of gratitude for some tardily remembered favor of the past, let fly an arrow, which severed the line, and poor Rube disappeared under the turbid water. He pres- ently re-appeared, and clambered up the bank, woefully be- draggled, and still bearing the grapnel clanking down his back. But Rube Tenyck and his ridiculous adventure were speedily forgotten in matters of sterner import, as the fight was at once resumed. The Indians crowded about the little band defending the hillock with redoubled strength, and though they were ruthlessly mowed down, and great gaps were made in their ranks by the rapidly firing death-dealing breech-loaders of the hunters, they frequently wavered, but did not fly. Several of the gallant little band were already on the ground, either wounded or slain, and the rest were already breathing hard under their terrible exertions, and still the trained ponies of the enemy pressed up to the low barricade, and the hideous war-whoops of their savage riders rang above the tumult of the fray. To add to their disadvantages, the smoke from the burn- ing brush-heaps began to blow in great volumes directly in the hunters’ faces, half-blinding them and causing them to falter fatally. (ele) ml Gomichboo