Rocky Mountain Sam — page 171: what you’re looking at

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

162. ROCKY MOUNTAIN SAM. ‘Cheer up pards!” he thundered, at the the top of his lungs. ‘‘T'he old man has got his wind.” Witha bound, he was out of the rocks, and among the Indians, who fled, shrieking, from his immediate vicinity, as those terrible hands and arms, and feet and knees struck out among them, cutting, slashing, ripping, and tearing everything flesh within their reach, and as that steel- bristling head thrust and twisted itself this way and that with gory effect. The hunters stimulated to frenzy by his example, re- doubled their efforts with bullet and steel, and once more the rocks were cleared. But the Indians were stubborn, and only recoiled to return again with renewed ferocity and power. Four stalwart braves dashed in among the footmen on their ponies, and made a simultaneous charge upon Big Horn to ride him down. ‘The hunter at once sent one of them to his account with the knife in his right hand, drove his spiked head full into the stomach of another, twisting it around and bringing out his entrails to the light of day, drove one of hiselbows through the ribs of a third, knocking the fourth from his saddle by a back-handed blow ~ from his left hand, chopped his head clean from the shoul- ders by a well-directed blow from his hatchet-guarded knee before he could regain his feet. Then, embracing one of the ponies around his neck, he lashed out behind with his feet, like a vicious horse, sending four other braves to earth, with toe and heel from each foot. But, as he recovered himself, and stood upon his feet once more a fragment of rock, hurled by one of the outside Indians, smote him full upon the forehead, and he fell back senseless. | A terrible shout arose from the savage ranks of the red- skins when they perceived their most dreaded antagonist senseless, and a rush was made to obtain his body, but the hunters and soldiers covered it with desperate valor, and poor Big Horn was dragged behind the rocks. The white men were almost heart-broken over the fall of their redoubtable chief, and the savages, with horrible yells, pressed on fora final charge, which, this time, must have, proved only too successful, had not at this moment, the Indians on the outside of the immediate fray, suddenly set up the appalling cry of ‘‘Booglebooby!” Renerved by that. cry, the hunters redoubled their strug- | ete comicbooks ‘> > Ff j ‘ 7 " * %, eg . - a aa (Efe)