Rocky Mountain Sam — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

ROCKY MOUNTAIN SAM. 9 “‘No! a thousand times no,” thundered Rocky Mountain- Sam; and without another word Firefoot turned on his heel, Hoa: into his saddle and galloped off, leaving Sam to his ate. “The fagot! the fagot!” roared Rube Tenyck, giving the word in the Blackfeet dialect, and dancing in the ex- cess of his demoniac glee. ‘‘Ah! Sam, my darling, we'll make a roast of you fit for the King of the Cannibals. In about ‘twenty minutes you'll be as pretty and brown as a baked partridge.” The youth made no answer, indeed, hardly seemed to hear. His eyes were directed toward the summits of the distant mountains with an earnest, anxious gaze. One of his arms was partially free. He raised his hand, and shad- ing his eyes, renewed his scrutiny of the sky with tenfold earnestness. He then wetted his finger with his lips, and held it up into the air. The wind blew lightly, but steadily, from the West, A smile of satisfaction wreathed his beard- less lips. A number of the Indians now came up with their arms fullof small sticks, dried sage-bushes, etc., which they piled about the captive, while the others recommenced their in- fernal dance around him, with horrid yells and other dem- onstrations of savage glee. The youth still remained unmoved, almost unconcerned, with his eyes fastened upon a dim speck in the western sky, which grew every instant larger and larger, like the form of a down-swooping bird. The hideous preparations were about complete, the death- dance was at its height, a sinewy savage was kneeling at the ~ foot of the fagot-heap, blowing into flame a glowing. spark of fire, which he held on the end of a stick between his hol- lowed hands, the spark was just trembling on the blaze, the captive seemed irredeemably doomed, when by a single motion of his unbound hand, a single word of his lips, he spread consternation among his captors. He stretched his hand westward, and exclaimed in a voice of thunder: | } ‘“Booglebooby!”’ Was the word a magical one? The spark fell, flameless and harmless, from the hands of the kneeling savage. The death-dance ceased, the hideous shouts and yells died away, without an echo, Hyery eye cComicboo (ele) m