Red Plume — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

RECOGNITION. . 43 arrows. They edged away, therefore, toward a piece of tim- ber, but the stranger had seen them, and turned his horse in the same direction. It was evident that he was as desirous of making their acquaintance as they were to avoid making his. As his intention was plain, and it was useless to try to escape from him, they rode toward him, and Steele soon had the satisfaction of assuring his companions that, although he was dressed like an Indian, and looked like one, he was pro- bably u white man. The stranger, who had been approach- ing them warily, and with his rifle ready for instant action, perceived that there was a white man in the party, and rode up to them. The recognition, on both sides, was instantane- ous and cordial. — “What! Bill Bush!” exclaimed Steele. “Where are you steering for, old boy? We have met you just at the right time, as I am afraid I could not have found the way to camp, and haven’t as much as a popgun for defense.” “Hello, Cap’n Frank! Tell ye “what, this old hoss is mighty glad to set his eyes onto you ag’in. [I had jest start- ed out on yer trail, and was gittin’ my mad up, so as to feel like rubbin’ out a few Blackfeet, when I run onto you. How did you git away from the red-skins. ?” “By the help of my copper-colored friend here, and glad enough I was, too, for they had promised to serve me up with- out sauce this morning.” “Thunder! Hello, Red Plume! what brought you here ? Hev’ ye been desartin’ yer colors? How is it ye happened to save the life of a white man, and that man Cap’n Frank Steele ?” As briefly as possible, and speaking in the Blackfeet tongue, the young warrior told his tragic tale, and the trapper, though usually very stoical, could not conceal his astonishment. “ Wa-al, this passes!” he exclaimed, “So that thar’ is the chief’s wife, and he has gone dead. Human natur’ is human natur’, all the world over, I reckon, but an Injun’s natur’ is a leetle more so. It’s lucky fur you, Red Plume, that you ain’t in the settlements, ’cause I’ve hearn tell that they hang folks fur sech jobs. But the Fat Bear was a mighty mean Injun, and he ain’t no loss to nobody. I had ‘lowed to travel ’round among some of the Blackfeet villages, and hunt me up a wife, / ' . a connicloooks. com