Beadle's Dime Novels No. 215: The White Hermit — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

A BRACE the young captain rowed up the beach at his best speed. The | course of the runners took them around the curved shore of a little bay, and the oarsman laid his course from point to point, and by this means was enabled to keep pace with the foremost runners, who were rapidly leaving the troop of yell- ing demons behind them. But the savage was gaining at ev- ery step, and it seemed to Austen that Bill had slackened his speed, while the Indian still kept his pace unchecked The hatchet was raised, and about to descend upon the head of the. when he suddenly threw himself at the feet of his ene- my, and catching him by the ankles gave himatoss The Indian described a parabolic curve in the air, and fell with his’ head upon a stone and lay senseless. Hungry Bill did not ~ wait long to decide whether the enemy was dead or alive, for ~ his other enemies were closing in upon him, but snatching the _ hatchet from his lifeless hand he ran on, shaking the glittering aa weapon in the air. The guide scemed a changed man. Ey- — ery movement of his body, the gleam of his wild eye, bespoke — the active, vigilant woodman. He bounded on, the hatchet — still in his nervous grasp, looking over his shoulder now and = then at his enemies, and calculating his chances. His short ‘struggle with the swiftest runner, and the slackening of his se . speed in order to accomplish his purpose, had enabled the In- = dians to gain upon him, and three of them were laboring on, ~ close in his rear, eager for his blood. _They knew him now, — and few men were more hated by the St. Regis than Hungry — oo Bill. His course now led him up a slope, and he reacheda bare bluff above the lake, twenty feet high, at the base of - which the water lay dark and deep, seemingly of fathomplepe.. Here he turned at bay, and of noble was bis attitude that. , the savages made a pause a few feet away as he stood upon the verge of the bluff, threatening them with the hatchet, “Yield to the St. Regis,” panted the foremost warrior, — “So great a braye as Ficetfoot the Guide will be a prize ee < which to boast, when we go back to the village.” ; _ Hungry Bill, who understood their tongue, gave a ae | temptuous snort. "*Give up to you! The old man ain't quite ready.” oS As be said this he lifted his hatchet and nened, it at the