Beadle's Dime Novels No. 92: The Twin Scouts — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

AN ARTFUL DODGER. 7 49 in his hand. He spoke English, an’ said you had sent him. ’T'was dat feller dat come here de udder day w’en you here— de oldest one, I mean. I tuk what he had in his hand troo de winder, an’ w’en Miss Flora saw dat ghe said you sent it, - fer you w’u’d keep dat to de las’. ’Twas her pictur’, Marse Ben.” Ben thrust his hand into his pocket in search of his trea- sure. It was gone, indeed. He had not thought of-it, in the excitement of the two weeks past, as he had a smaller one, which he carried more carelessly. He knew that he must have lost it on the way, perhaps in the struggle with the In- dians whom they flogged, perhaps in his camp. Certain Se was that he lost it and his enemy found it. , _ “ Loss it ?” eas “Yes ; but I don’t remember where.” —“@25 . Nebber min’. He brought dat, an’ I didn’t shoot him. De good Lord forgib me ’cause I didn’t shoot him, —ef I only had!” ei: 3c “What then ?” - “Den I wu'dn’t hab dis sad story to tell. Dat Tajin be- trayed-we. Wal, we let him in troo de winder, an’ de Injins outside raised a great. rowdy, an’ jumped roun’ an’ fired dar’ muskets an’ made circusses of darselves generally, as ef dey was awful mad ’cause he gotin. Wal, he telled us a are about you two, how you was out dar’ wid a lot ob men, an’ w’u’d mek’ dem Injins hop. Den we tought we was safe, an’ all ob us lay down to sleep ’cept de Injin an’ me. I kinder | dozed, too, fer de Injin kep’ quiet. Dat feller, dey called ’im_ ‘An-ga-wam, told me you wouldn’t ’tack de Injins till mornin’, cause you didn’t want him to git ’way at all. Den” I sent ’im down sta’rs to watch, while I kep’ above. I might ’a known ’twa’n’t in de Injin natur’ to keep so quict, less dar’ was some debbletry in de wind; but I didn’t t’ink, an’ dat An-ga-wam went down to watch. Down dar’, to watch ober dem innocent ones, I sent dat:snake. I was a darn ole fool, but I nebber tought; de Lord knows I nebber t’ought, else I would hey’ sunk a hatchet in his head, an’ rowed him out ob de winder—’deed I w’u’d. “J kinder dozed up above dar’, an’ maybe an hour went on, an’ I heard steps like a cat down sta’rs. I jest looked down, ‘ \ Connicbdooks.con: