Beadle's Dime Novels No. 142: The Sagamore of Saco — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

“THE INDIAN VILLAGE. “Ugh,” muttered Custaloga, whose Wyandot caution had served him well. Generally speaking, it would have been quite safe for the In- dian warrior to have approached the camp of the Shawnees at that advanced hour of the night with- ont many precautions, the Indians not being in the habit of sitting up much after dark. But, on the present occasion, something out of the common doubtless made them more than usually excited, and Custaloga at once made up his mind that it was, as he had expect- ed, to this village Amy had been brought, and that the warriors were telling the stories and narra- tives of their adventures while smoking their pipes over the camp- fires. Haying gone so far and learned 80 much, the Wyandot was not a man to retreat without making sure of the fact he was so deeply - anxions to know, and by which he intended guiding his future pro- ceedings. Instead, therefore, of retrea when he discovered that the Indians had not retired to the shelter of their wigwams, he _ Merely determined to act with ex- treme caution and circumspection, clearly, however, showing, that he did not intend to retreat. He now kept nothing on him but the small breech-cloth of the Shawnee warrior on the war-path, fastened his hunting-knife in his belt, tight- ened the thongs of his moccasms, and began quietly descending the slope toward the village. It wus a position and an hour whick would have sorely tried the nerves 7. any, save a borderman or an o. He bed advanced a hundred nang before the voices, which had _ been so plain above when he lay On the — became au- -dible. e now seemed a vision solemnly did he 4? of Wya-na-mah, a kind of outpost of Chillicothe. ’ A large, natural opening in the forest, where an arid soil or some accident had prevented the thick growth of trees, or which in days gone by had®*been cleared, had been selected by the Shawnees for theirtown. About thirty wig- wams had been arranged in ota circle round an open grass-plot, much worn, however, and stubbly ; and behind these a rude stockade was visible, which also extended round in front, leaving only two entrances to the village, which were guarded by hungry dogs. There were two fires on the open plot in the center, round one of which about twenty warriors were collected, while as many women and girls were congregated near the other. It was a wild and singular scene. Around, the dark and gloomy forest; above, the sky, now illu- mined by the rising moon; and there, the conical huts of the terrible red-skins lying still and yet marked in the moolight; and their owners, those -grim and hastly warriors who during that y had wrought so much evil and done so much misghief—mischief never to be forgotten—sitting there like peaceful citizens in their leasant homes ’ oo) rhing, chattering, thus ateven- tide, without any of that gravity and solemnity assumed at times for a purpose. It was truly a subject for the pencil of a Murillo ora Claude. And the merry group of girls, and the sedate an sad women, were, With the children, the dogs, and the other little addenda of the seene, singularly uresque. P\Castalo stood in the deep shadow of the trees, about thirt yards fi e fire around whic the re regated. It om the stockade ome instances, built » to the trees, which thus » have afforded danger- foe, that comicbooks. > 4, << a ae -?