Yellowstone Jack: Trappers of the Enchanted Ground — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

‘s aoe AN OLD FEUD REVIVED. 7 an . h flea body of t the ipforiinnts teamster to be drag ged out. It was a sickening sight oe sl 1apeless ‘mass, so reeagy full of e, spirit, and sensibility. a i Me ‘Great Fleaven !” suddenly cried John 4 Ww \aierd “where is the democrat? I nv tho =! b can see nothing of them.” Bic can tell, I guess.” ‘The agonized father ran to where the ii Paaver crouched, groaning with pain, and _ demanded his child. Poor Terence fal- oy ered out all he knew; he had been th nrown to the ground, and had caught a i pse of the s spring waggon as it van- en up the pass. With ‘these words the oF 900r fellow fainted. rae And we have been dallying here isle’ my poor child was dashed to pieces ! 2 Heaven! ‘im mercy protect her!” _He sprang to his horse, shouting for Sen: to follow. Hialf-a-dozen obeyed i : a im, among them Chris Camp. Mole lided. to his side, and muttered a word | ir his eur ; ‘Camp started, and his up- P h fted foot dropped from the stirrup. As Warren leaped into his saddle he noticed it his action, and in a hoarse, unnatural £:) one shouted: You, too, Camp, we may need you.” iy ole then turned aside. Camp hesi- ted for a moment, then leaped into the 76 idle and dashed aiter Warren. The outlaw chief uttered a fierce curse, his eyes flashing fire; but at that moment a firm hand was placed upon his shoul- “ Le But never ad, you acted like a man in Tending us a hand in need, eS wait- it ng for an introduction.” &Mount’n law sais: ‘Puta inemy 27% Be d lifikilty whenever you kin, but help a 4 ft rind out o’ one.’ That’s my style, boss,” quietly replied the disguised outlaw. if t “Difficulty enough, ‘Heaven knows! I Never witnessed a storm to equal this.” ee pets Waal, yes, I reckon ‘twas a pritty |r fa'r speciment. Talk about y’ur northers ‘the sow ‘west ; they cain’t shine in the tle pufis 0’ wind we sometimes git up et hyer in the hills.” — “You look as though you had fared h ardly, too.” cee ‘did cit a taste. Was ridin’ long, Peerless like, thinkin’ to ketch up wi’ ° your train afore the storm broke, when : he wind ketched me an’ rolled both me 0 ye, oli kt they had reached the hill yoncler, | mes ‘There is ‘McCarthy, just getting up, over the aidge o’ the kenyon. I man- idged to ketch holt o’ a bush, an’ saved my meat, but I reckon Patchie has gone a place.” “ Catch up with us; but we have passed no canyon lately,” echoed the emigrant, Alfred Zimmerman, “Tuck a short cut! kem through the ’ hastily explained the dis- — upper pass,’ ouised outlaw. | “ You were following us, then 2?” asked Zimmerman. “Yes; but who’s that feller, the big varmint, who’s gawpin’ at us’s though he’d never see’d a free trapper afore: 2 fe: abruptly demanded Mole, his voice chan= ing. “That! Bob Barris, he calls himself. He joined us the other day, wounded; had some trouble with the Blackfeet, t believe. Why, do you know him ?” : “ Not by that name; though seems to me ’t I’ve met him some’r’ s, or somebody a good deal like ‘im. free trapper. Two weeks back the red- skins smelt me out, and lit onto me hot an’ heavy. They was led by a white fel- ler. I put a lead-pill under his hide. Thort [’d made ‘meat’ o’ him, but I mought ’a’ been mistaken. straight to hoss-heaven, ef there be seckh &, an’ Patchie, my hoss, that is, boss, chuck — Didn’t hev Told ye lwasa much time to take notes, but I’d sw’ar z ‘at he was like enough to that feller yen- der, to be his twin-brother,” quietly snufiled Mole. “Tt may be; I have had my suspicions about him. He puts himself too forward, we : ae He finds fault with our guide; says that none but a fool or a traitor would have led us this far north. But hist! he is coming this way,’ and Zimmerman dropped his voice. The mountaineer, Bob Harris, who had for several minutes been closely watch- | ing the outlaw, now advanced toward them, a peculiar light in his keen eye. A long rifle rested across his left arm; his right hand clasped the lock, as though to ouard it from the driving particles of snow. “Hullow, Zene Zalloch, kem hyar to settle up, hev ye?” he uttered, m a quiet pecuhar tone that thrilled the emgrant strangely, he knew not why. “tT reckon you 're yelpin’ on the wrong trail, stranger,” quietly responded Mole, and the nasal twang was now plamer than over. “I was chris’ened by the b (COMMicel OO! KS (C(O)