Old Shadow Shot — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

THE VULTURES of long eyebrows fastened his gaze upon the boy. : why, he’s a leetle one!” he said, in a rough, uncultivated, but not unkind voice. “Ts this the bird what I heard so far from the waggons?” “Yes!” grated Captain Rough—a name which he wore with credit. to his nature. “This is the bird. Wait! Pll shake his plumage up a little!” Hard upon the last rough words, Nightin- gale Nat was jerked suddenly from the ground, and shaken so furiously by the cap- tain of the train that his rifle fell from his grasp. “That's what I call shaking his plumage up a little!” said Rough, as he released the boy and turned with a grin of brutal delight upon the uncouth visitor. Nat staggered when released. It seemed to him that the captain had loosened every bone in his body. “ He’s the scamp what's bringing the out- laws and Indians down upon us with his singing!” Rough continued. ‘‘ Bless me! if I’m done with him yet. The fiends will not attack us for ten minutes. Paddock, where's a whip?’ The next instant a heavy ox-whip was thrust into the captain’s hand, and with an cath he pushed his right sleeve above the elbow. “Stand still, there!” he cried to the boy, who involuntarily shrank towards the waggons as he caught sight of the cruel whip in the hand of Rough. “ Move, if you dare! and by my life! Pll cut your chicken-throat the first blow!” White-faced now, Nightingale Nat halted and looked around. The faces of the members of the caravan did not exhibit any signs of pity. While few showed evidences of glee at the expected punishment, more than one was partially averted. It was evident that Captain Rough ruled supreme over the train. “Pll teach him to sing the enemy down upon us!” grated the brute, as the heavy lash described a circle around his head. “Yes, my friend z There was the sudden darting of a figure forward, and the uncouth invader of the train planted himself firmly like a rock be- fore the threatened boy. : “Don’t you hit the leetle one!” he cried, putting forth his long arms, while his keen eyes sent sparks of fire from their dark caverns. “I reckon as how no giant hes a right to whip a dwarf. He didn't know thet it war wrong to sing in these parts. Music is in him, an’ it hed to come out; thet’s all.” Captain Rough dropped the uplifted whip, OF THE Woops. and, with a face livid with rage, started back. His eyes were riveted upon the in- terferer in his sport. “Who are you?” he almost yelled. “ And what do you know about the boy?” “ aAnswerin’ your last question first, I say ‘Nothin’’!” was the reply. “I am Old Shadow-Shot, at your sarvice, an’ by the snakes of the woods! I'll kill the first man what teches the leetle one in my presence, Thet’s me, and I mean business!’ Nightingale Nat, with a look of deep grati- tude, crept closer to the strange being. CHAPTER I. THE VULTURES OF THE WOODS. “TypARK! Can't you fellows stop | quarrelling for a moment so a “person can hear something ?” At the edge of a dense forest, not very far from the scene of the incidents just nar- rated, a company of men, mostly Indians, were, with two exceptions, seated statue- like on the backs of horses whose hanging heads proclaimed them considerably jaded. “There it is again!” said the speaker, after a moment of silence. “That is the voice of someone singing. We are going to strike the train to-night.” At the menijon of a train the horsemen lifted their heads, and eagerness flashed in their eyes. “Cap'n, do you think it is whar that chap is singin’ ?”’ It was a dark-faced, uncouth individual who put this question. “There is just where it is, and nowher else,” was the reply. : “Cap'n Rough would not allow it, I was thinkin’. Doesn't he know that he’s in a dangerous kentry ?” He had ought to. But, as he has ad- vanced so far without accident, I suppose he thinks that he will get on to the copper country without trouble.” “Poor fool!” sneered the rough man. “Cap'n, whar’s the train what has passed over this trail unteched?” A curious smile played with the cruel lips of the man called cap’n. Ay, where was the train which had passed through the Wisconsin forest unscathed, to the wonderful copper mines of Lake Superior? The Vultures of the Woods had falles upon it when in the midst of fancied security, and left but ruins of waggons and bones of oxen and men to mark the spot of the fatal swoop. “You're right, Rafe! Where is the one?” “Jts name is nary,” was the answer, as EOMNiclOOOKS (200)