Red Belt, the Tuscarora — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

a * THE DARK &ECRET. 85 3 are in the alr—the pipe has been buried—the hatchet dug up, = and soon the din of war will roll around us. Red Belt’s z heart is sad—a mighty weight seems pressing him down. But : he will be true to his Mis-kwa! Before the black clouds = burst, Red Belt would lock his arms around the waist of his 2 Mis-kwa, and cal! her his bride.” = “Then it is settled,” said the hunter, in a low voice, after = aslight pause. : Then ensued another silence, and once more the fire had burned down. Roydon Howe, who had been all along remarkably silent, flung upon it another supply of fuel. Then turning to the tT ia? E: | old hunter, he said: = “Sampson, my friend, can ycu not tell us, to-night, your » #cret—that secret, always brought to you at the mention of a certain—a /iellish name?’ and the young man himself shud- dered. “ We are on the brink of great events, Sampson, and we know not what the morrow will bring forth. You can trust ue, my friend ; and the hour may come, when for vengeance’ _ sake,’ and the young man hissed the words—* it will be too late to tell the tale. Tell us the dark secret, which lurks in your bosom.” ' As Roydon Howe spoke, he drew near the old hunter, and looked him appealingly in the face. Red Belt likewise raised his own sad face to the hunter's. The old man half shrunk away, and the frown on his brow was as black as midnight. A terrible shiver passed over his frame; but the emotion and its traces subsided, and the hunter slowly sat upright. He glanced once into the fire, and then tooking up, said, in a low, unnaturally hoarse bat distinct voice : “ Yes, my friends; Ill tell you the tale. "Tis brief but © old Sampson will never forget it until the record is washed out = gn Blood! . . Well, you must know, boys, that old Samp- > son, years ago, lived by selling peltry, and Whistling Dick, who 3 never Vied, was all the help I had. And I made money fast = enough, for my skins were not spoiled ; a little hole in the head was all. Williamsburg, as it is now, was the market. | Well, boys,” and the old man besitated,“I used to hunt in = Sees with—with—a_black-hearted villain—a white man be Bib ie’ nF ¥ ui comicbooks. com ».