Beadle's Dime Novels No. 138: Tim, the Scout — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

A DUCKING. ERE * That's good sign,” said Tim. “Sure there are no red. naygurs about the bush. If they were, the deer would niver come down to drink. I can land safe; that’s one comfort.” Even as he spoke, he shifted his position slightly on the log. This wag what that particular piece of pine, in its wooden mind, was waiting for. It proceeded slowly to turn over, and dump Tim into the stream, while he hung on by tooth and nail, striving to maintain his position. But, the struggle was in vain, and down he sunk into the stream, and was lost to. sight for a moment, a few bubbles rising in the place where he had gone down. . Seon he rose to the surface, blew the water from his mouth, and swam to the log, which luckily had not sent the rifle to keep him company, at the bottom of the stream. Being wet now, he remained in the water, and swam to the other bank, pushing the log before him, and puffing in an exasperated way. He landed, took his sirms'from the branch, then pushed it spitefully out into the stream, shook himself like a spaniel, and became his usual good-natured self, | “Sure [ can’t hold mad against the log for capsizing,” he Said. “’Twas me own fault, anyhow. I ought to have sat the log betther. Any log wid a conscience would throw a Chap that didn’t kape his sate betther than I did. . But, here are me illigant clothes spoilt intirely.” ‘ The “illigant clothes” consisted of a pair of buckskin breeches, a hunting-shirt of green homespun, and a pair of moccasins. These, with the coonskin dip, completed his out- fit. Bf “Phat will I do, at all?’ he muttered, “ now I am come to shore. I say bad luck till the Gineral, anyhow. No, I won't say that, for he’s a fine man intirely, but phat the saints need he always make me do all the hard work meself for? Sure, there is many another could do the work, may be not quite so well, but still well enough, and lave me a little pace av mind, Phat S that ?” . Something had made a stir in the bushes by his side. In an instant the expression of his face changed, and he hecame_ the terrible scout and Indian- fighter he was by nature. His first impulse Was to grasp his weapons and leap for the cover ie a fallen tree, for he did not know but~a deadly rifle bore commlicloooks.conn