Rocky Mountain Sam — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

a ue | a af * - j* . . h a ' ae WY " < ia / ROCKY MOUNTAIN SAM. 57 nary dislodgment, and with the earth apparently swinging and swaying below him at a distance of several hundred feet, he could only kick, and squirm, and squall at the top of his voice. ‘‘Now, haul him up by degrees,” said the professor, when the balloon had regained its altitude among the calm spaces, and was once more comparatively motionless. With a good deal of toil—for the grappled savage. was by no means a hight weight—they hauled him until his head . was about on a level with the rim of the car. As they did so he swung round, clutched the sides with both hands, and made a desperate attempt to clamber over. But a few short raps on the knuckles convinced him of the futility of such attempts; and they were not renewed, though he kept up an incessant yelling, which was decidedly annoying. “Can you speak the Blackfeet lingo, Fayaway?” queried the old aeronaut. The girl nodded her head in assent. ‘Then tell him to stop his infernal noise, ask him how many warriors there. are beyond the mountain there, and tell him if he will reveal the place where Firefoot, the rene- gade, is hiding with his captive, we will set him at liberty without hurting him.” ‘The Indian made two or three pauses in his yells, so that Fayaway managed to get in a few words, and then went on vociferating as before. She then intimated to her companions that he was either unable to answer her questions or was too frightened to comprehend her. ~ : <All right—we’ll have to make an example of him, then,” said the professor. ‘‘ Willful stupidity is sometimes as cul- able as downright perversity. Sam, take that long- - handled brush there, and give him a good coating of the - warm tar, while I bust open this old cushion, and get some feathers ready. We'll make a fine bird of him in less than no time.” ‘Ay, ay, old man!” cried Sam, his face lighting up with mischievous merriment as he seized the long-handled brush and dipped it in the tar-pot. . The Indian’s girdle, by which the grappling-iron held him securely to the side of the car, had slipped up under his arm-pits, so that—being almost naked, with the excep- tion of the covering abont his loins—he was in a capital cComicboo co