Beadle's Dime Novels No. 142: The Sagamore of Saco — page 106: what you’re looking at

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

40 THE SILENT HUNTER. **T know you won’t—but you'll be worse,” continued Harvey, sulkily. ‘*Custa will not be scalped—he has long legs,” said the Indian, “‘You promise that? Nowmind —if you are found, you'll make tracks and run.”’ Custa mee ne (oats ~ would, and then began ng off every cle of dress that Tooked like an assumption of civilized garb. In an instant he stood almost ina state of nature, an spology for a tunic beginning at his waist and hanging to within four inches of his knees, and his moccasins, being his whole dress. He then took from his hunting-bag the necessary materials, and gan nting himself with — care, however, - kly took the matter out of his hand, and finished him off so perfectly, that Harvey quite started. “T wouldn’t advise you to let a Del, you, he said, gravely. replied Custaloga with the deepest guttural sound he had yet uttered. *“ You know she don’t like you in any Indian fixings—but in that she’d hate you.”’ The young warrior looked very grave, butmade noreply. He was ready, and standing up, his rifle in hand, his horn and shot-pouch hanging from his naked shoulder, he said a quiet good-by, and pre- pared to depart. BF aco ryt . Pil come down the with you— i The — is very dark, the stones are slippery—stay—the red- skin warrior will go alone.” ** Willful and o like all his race,” said Harvey to himself. ** Ah me! it’s a risky thing, a very risky thing. The lad must be in love with Amy.” And thus roused, his ideas took another and soon led him on to think of Jane ; and once direct- ed into this current, he lost all re- collection of every thing else, and sunk into one of those dreamy visions of love and hope and Joy: which come sometimes in the still solitude of night, whether we lie in down-beds, or on the hard rock or any earth, with naught above us but the canopy of heaven. At last Harvey fell asleep, but he did not sleep Jong, for when his eyes opened again, the fire burnt still rightly, and Harrod - lay in so deep and heavy a slumber that he could searcely have re- plenished it. Harvey sat up, lita pipe, and his thoughts turning to- ward the young Indian, he began to feel extremely uneasy. What he had undertaken he knew to be perilous in the extreme—one of those Indian artifices, which suc- ceed sometimes from their extreme boldness and audacity, but which are attended with an amount of danger and difficulty which make them rarely used, or only in ex- treme cases like the present, where the feelings of the actor impelled him even to the verge of rashness. Harvey gazed at the sleeper with pity. He lay still now; bis stormy passions, his fearful sor- rows, his regrets, his anxieties, his burning desire for vengeance, all at rest; and perhaps—who can say ?—some sweet and cheerin dream of the dear ones, some 80 vision of the night was his, giving to his soul some of that pleasant rest which the body derives from cessation from labor. ** He sleeps— poor fellow, I must not wake him,” said the artist, ently. He always liked that earless spirit, that warm-hearted though wild hunter. ‘ How hush- ed and still this place is! Ah, what is that?” He leaned down carefully in the dark shadow of the rock, clutcb- ing his rifle, as a heavy body was clearly heard above, making its way through the bushes. On the opposite side of the gully the bank rose abont cage feet precipi- tously, and then sloped back—an inclined plane, covered by shrubs and trees. Through these some body of considerable weight had Cconniclooks.conn