Yellowstone Jack: Trappers of the Enchanted Ground — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

4 ae. he the reason why he, though a chief of the Siksikaga Blackfeet, was forced to use so much caution, instead of leading them _ .openly to their friends. A Blackfoot brave had brought a white scalp to his village, and said he knew where more palofaces were hidden, trapping. A war-party was immediately made up, and, guided by the brave, started j at once to punish the interlopers. They met Pethonista, who had been out hunt- ing alone, and he resolved to join them, ed though knowing that, in accordance with - the rules of the tribe, he must serve as a common brave, subject to the orders of Koutonipi,a sub chief, really far below him in rank. On the morning of the _ storm, Koutonipi sent out scouts to learn whether the trappers had taken the alarm and fled at the death of their comrade, while the main body remained behind to await the report. Pethonista wandered away from them, when the storm caught thom. He heard the rifle- shot and struggle upon the edge of the canyon, and crept forward, hoping to gain a scalp. But a loosened boulder gave way and crushed him to the ground. “Me wanted you ’scalp den,’ the _ Hagle confessed, with refreshing frank- ness, but you help me. fo’ you. You my brudder—me lke you heap! Koutonipi no take scalp, while iagle live. But bes’ wait, den slip by in dark. Den no trouble.” As the sun sank to rest, the party resumed their way. Pethonista said that a few hundred yards more would carry them to a point where they could easily regain the level ground, and then a couple of hours would see them safely to the train, The girls, though stuf and sore from the bruises they had received during their fearful ride, as well as when they were cas: from the overturned *‘ demo- crat,” bore up nobly under the fatigue, for they thought the worst had passed— that all danger was left behind them, Little did they dream of what the future hac in store! Pethonista suddenly paused and crou- ched low down, throwing forward his rifle. A suspicious sound, like the sharp elick-click of arifle being cocked, met his ear. But it was too late. A loud report—a blinding sheet of flame. <A shrill ery of agony followed. Frank Maynard flung up his hands, and, Now me fight ’ . ; . J 7 * ‘* ’ | i , am . Na . ; YELLOWSTONE JACK. ie tT ; tottering for a moment, fell backward — over the escarpment, down—down! ’ 4! i THE WITCH OF THE BOILING SPRING. = ‘ CHAPTER VIII. | 1? & al may =o HEN the reader is informed that — the story told by the unfortunate — Bob Harris was true in every par- — ticular, the emotions of the disguised — outlaw, Mat Mole, can readily be gan sfne a Yet, naturally brave, despite his villainy, “4 he did not suffer a chance to escape him, _ even while expressing pantomimic ridicule 4 of the trapper’s words. He knew that — both could not live through that interview, that the death of at least one must be the finale. He had visited the train to “a make arrangements with Chns Camp for 4 the final blow. The traiter gmde was — gone, so that object was a failure. Thus — he was ready when the crisis came, and plunged his knife to the hilt just over — the trapper’s collar bone. Thon, witha — rapid bound, he passed the two emigrants ‘, who stood between him and the pass, and — was beyond arm’s length before a hand , could be interposed. | ae i ay Leaping swiftly from side to side with . . the skill and wonderful agility that had ) gained him a name even among theo athletic Blackfeet, he darted down the pass. Several bullets, hastily discharged, with little or no attempt at aim, whistled harmlessly past. And a taunting ery © broke from his lips, so assured was he of — ultimate escapo, knowing as he did that none but draught mules remained with — the train, the saddle-horses having been — ridden by the emigrants setting forth in quest of the runaways. | He continued his fight with a swiftness the best Inciian runner might have envied, | covering the ground with long swinging \ strides closely resembling those of a hotly- hunted moose, until the division of the © pass was gained. Here, for the first time, — he glanced back. No one was in sight. He placed one ear to the eronHid ane could distinguish no sound above the howling winds. i Si ‘‘ Sensible—they haven’t chased me!” | he muttered, with a satisfied chuckle, “Guess I astonished them a little by my — style of shakiug moceasin. Then 1 did | ; t! aot that varmini | Atlse he world r ’ “a