Rocky Mountain Sam — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

6 ROCKY MOUNTAIN SAM. molded limbs contained nothing but bone and muscle and steel-like sinews. ‘The face was comely and beardless, with a strong sense of humor and mischievousness, which would have rendered it weak, had not the entire countenance been - redeemed by a pair of gray hawk-eyes, and which indicated a daring and enterprising spirit, and he had rich, curling brown hair, so soft and silky that the breeze seemed to take delight in toying with it. Such the captive; such our hero. ‘“‘Howl on, ye red-mouthed varmints, till ye crack the paint on your ugly mugs!” he shouted, laughing; ‘‘ye know f there’s nothin’ but noise in ye, an’ ye daresent hurt the hair of my head. Where is that blue-nosed renegade that speaks - English? I[ want to palaver with him.” : The Indians stopped their dance and din as there strode out from among them a thickset, diabolical-looking rascal, whom no amount of paint and feathers could rob of the fact that he was a white man disguised as an Indian. “Tf it’s me you mean, Sam,” said he, ‘‘I suppose I’m at yer service fur the bit of time yer has to live.” ‘Why, V’ll dance on your grave yet, Rube T’enyck,” said the captive;, ‘‘and, if I haven’t long to live, as you say, why don’t you and your murderin’ gang commence on me at once, — you white-livered son of a prairie dog?” “‘T suppose they’re just playin’ wid. ye, as a cat does with a mouse before she picks it to pieces,” said the other, with agrin. ‘‘But you know as well as I do that they are only waiting for the arrival of Firefoot, who’s expected every minute. But, look ye, Rocky Mountain Sam, an’ it’s myself can give ye a piece of advice. When you speak to me, keep a snaffle-bit on that sharp tongue o’ yourn, or it may go hard with you, my beauty.” “If I should tell you the cause of your runnin’ from the © Mission to disguise your dirty white carcass in Indian war- paint, perhaps you would like my tongue still less,” cried Rocky Mountain Sam, tauntingly. | : The ruffian gave a sortof roar, drew his knife, and sprang toward the bound captive with uplifted hand; but, at this moment, Sam, managing to writhe one of his feet free from its encircling cords, dealt him such a tremendous kick in the pit of the stomach that Rube rolled upon the ground completely doubled up and roaring with pain. He was quickly on his feet again, and would, perhaps, have re- newed the attack with less disaster to himself and more comicbooks.com —