Beadle's Dime Novels No. 153: Mohawk Nat — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

A CAPTURE. 17 in his right hand, but was restrained from using it by the iron grasp Nat had upon his wrist. For an Indian, he had 4 rather fine face, and his dress showed him to be somewhat of a dandy in his way. He wore a head-gear of eagle-feathers, and his knife had a handle ornamented by strange devices. The mo- ment he saw he was trapped he gave up the struggle, and Nat dashed into the circle of whites, dragging him along. “ Thar he is,” he said, releasing his prisoner when he was once in the circle; “and you tell me ef he ain’t as pooty a yooth as ye would wish to see.” The Indian folded his arms and looked from face to face in a stolid manner, like one who yielded himself to his fate, what- ever it might be. “ Speak to him, Nat,” said Lewis. “Ask him what he is doing here.” “What's the use of that?’ demanded Nat, with the air of & man propounding an axiom. “ Don’t we know he'll lie about it? ’Cause why: an Indian never tells the truth to a white man, when he ken help it. An’ this feller won't, no more than the rest. I know what he’s after. He’s after scalps; Miat’s what he’s after, scuttle him !” “ Perhaps not,” said Lewis. “Then what is he doin’? Ain’t he a Huron ?—answer me that. Does a Huron ever come south ’cept to burn, an’ rob, an’ murder? Good luck ef he don’t git the chaince. J think his loping days are over. He's a varmint. Ye ken see that with half a look.” s “ He looks to me like a pretty good specimen of an Indian,” said Lewis. “ At any rate, speak to him, and tell me what he says.” a , Nat addressed some question to the savage, to which the other made no reply except a haughty stare. The ranger be- gan to handle his knife viciously. | “Look here, you red beauty,” said he, “I don’t want to ask my questions twice over. What are ye doin’ here ?” The savage made a sweeping gesture with his brown hand, taking in the expanse of woods and water about him. } “ Whose land is this ?” he said, in his own language. “Free sand to Indian; free land to white man. One go where he please; other do same.” conmiclooOoks. conn ——