Old Shadow Shot — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

8 OLD SHADOW-sHOT. suggested itself; he set Sharp Knife, the wily Crow, upon Armstrong’s trail, and felt relieved. He had confidence in the scarlet vulture. Rafe Armstrong was well mounted, and, armed with rifle, pistol and knife, the dis- missed man left the band to continue its march through the sombre woods. He resolutely turned his back upon it and rode away. If he had dreamed that Sharp Knife was on his track, would he not have turned and put an end to one Indian’s trailing? | But Armstrong d&l not see the red as- sassin. ‘Bless me if I don’t go an’ tell her what I know!’ he muttered to himself, avy he rode along. ‘She’s got no business in these parts, an’ if thar’s any money in gettin’ her back to the city, why, Pll run the risk. I wonder how city life would go ag’in, with plenty. of money in my pocket, an’ good drinks ?” The forest path which the bandit traversed at length brought him to what appeared to be the edge of a cliff, below which sounded the musical hum of flowing water. “She oughter be at the camp!” he said, bringing his steed toa halt. ‘No harm done if I go down an’ see.” Turning to the north, he rode slowly along the edge of the precipice for some distance until he stood almost on a level with the stream. As yet, Sharp Knife had not reached his victim, who had put six miles between him and the outlaw band. Advancing at a snail’s-pace up the river- bank, strewn in many places with broken rocks, which seriously impeded his progress, Rafe Armstrong pushed along. At last he abandoned his horse and proceeded on foot, with that scarlet trailer still on his track. All at once the bandit stopped, for he stood on the threshold of a little cave wonder- _ fully chiselled from the rock by the hand of ‘nature. ‘There were evidences of late occu- pancy ; but now it was tenantless. Armstrong stared at the place, and then looked around. : “Gone!” he ejaculated, in a tone of deep disappointment. With this word on his lips, the deserter stepped into the cave and began to examine the few articles of use which were arranged with that neatness which proclaimed a feminine taste. Just beyond the threshold and in the darker shadows, for the starlight, beautiful and bright, now seemed to concentrate in the cavern, a pair of sparkling eyes were watch- ing his every movement, and a hand held a knife with a long, flashing blade. - Sharp Knife, the trailer. With the snake-like caution of the red man, the Pottawatomie lay on his breast, and now and then crept forward without the least sign of noise. Slowly, but with that certainty so suggestive of doom, he ap- proached. his victim. “A right-down pretty place to live,” Rafe Armstrong said, admiring the interior of the secluded home. “Here is whar the capn comes so much. Now I’d like to see the gal. ‘It’s been five years since we cleaned Collyer out, and she warn’t more nor ten year old then.” Hard ~1pon the outlaw’s last sentence came an exclamation that caused him to start. “Thet war somebody!” he cried, turning quickly. “I heard a voice, an’—the gal, by geminy !” : He started forward with the ejaculation on his lips, for standing at the edge of the cave appeared a vision of female loveliness which might well have surprised the man. A girl of nearly sixteen, clad in a half- boyish hunting-suit, with a jaunty cap of skins set upon her head, and a mass of long hair on her shoulders. The outlaw took in her habiliments and beauty at a glance, and a moment later he stood before her, his rough hand encircling her arm, and his gaze riveted upon her face. “Tve caught you, my beauty!” he cried, triumphantly. “Didn’t you think I war Cap'n Dave? I used to sarve under him, but we played quits to-night. I talked too much, gal—entirely too much for Cap’n Dave. I said that a gal of your looks did escape from Collyer’s train, an’ he said that if I would still talk such nonsense I might pack my kit an’ dust. You see he says no- body got away ; you stan’ here to prove that I war right, an’ he war wrong. Bless me! I’m glad I found you. Why, you be grown a good deal since that night. Haven’t fur- got it, have ye, my little bird?’ The man rattled his sentences off too rapidly for the girl, eager as she was, to get in-a single word, until he paused for want of breath. He stood with his back to the foe crouch- ing near with the knife; but the Indian’s eyes were full of curiosity. He, too, had been surprised by the appearance of the citl; and, for the moment, had forgotten the mission upon which his chief had despatched him, “What do you mean, sir?” cried the girl, quickly, upon Armstrong’s last word. “You hevn’t furgotten, I hope?” he said, astonished. “Why, warn’t you on a train once when a passel of Injuns and whites came down upon it an’ killed everybody ?”’ “Oh!” cried the girl, starjing from the GHOOKSHEO