Beadle's Dime Novels No. 85: The Fugitives — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

THE FUGITIVES. CHAPTER I. THEY COME | “Tre INDIANS ARE COMING! THE INDIANS ARE COMING ” was the terrified exclamation of Gershom Smithson, as he came thundering down the road, on a hot day in July, from Forty Fort, in Wyoming Valley. He was mounted without a saddle on a coal-black steed that was under full gallop, the long yellow hair of the rider streaming in the wind thus created, his whole countenance indicative of the most extreme excitement. At intervals he glanced furtively behind him, and then pounding his heels against the foaming sides of his horse, dashed forward at the same tremendous rate. That mild summer sky was obscured by the smoke of battle and burning houses, and the air resounded with the desultory rattle of musketry, the shouts of the vanquished settlers, and the yells of the triumphant Indians. “T’s all up!” he muttered; “and every man must look out for himself and folks. Too bad! too bad! This is a dark day for the Valley.” At the roadside he discerned a mother, two daughters, and a small boy, standing in front of their dwelling, watching and waiting with the most acute apprehension for tidings of the battle. “Fly! fly for your lives!” he called, as he reined up his horse. | “Are we defeated ?” asked the mother, coming forward, her face white, and her whole frame quivering with terror. “ Yes; completely routed and driven back! We went out and attacked Butler and his Indians, but they overwhelmed us.’ “ And where is John and Willie ?” commiclooks.coOn