Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 105 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

ee 10 earth. Rnbe snatched up his bullet-pouch and began to load. * injins !” young men knew he did not speak in vain. Yet they could see nothing but the herd, the coyotes, and the verdant plain. “ Yer don’t see them, boys. I’m ablam- ed fool, er [’'d a thought of thet. Do yer see thet coyote yonder, clus te: the herd ? Thetis an Injin with a wolf-hide onto him. I'd like ter know how many ther ar’ of them.” Shall we give up our meat on their ac- count?” cried Dolf. greasy knaves away.” “ Softly, softly, my lad. An Injin arrer kin kill, as well as a bullet, at a short range. I’m thinkin’ thers a good crowd of them, or they’d never hey’ staid ther’ so ‘long, af- ter they found out we was on hand. I’m not the man ter give up our meat ’thout a fight. At any rate, they calculate we don’t see them, an they ain’t seen anybody but me. I calculate we'll fool them jit. Jake ?” “ W’at say, Rube ?” “Go in ther’ an’ collar thet Injin in ther wolf-hide an bring him in.” “Git out, you! W’at ye t’inkI med’ of, you Rube? Cast-iron, prob’ly. Ain’t, though. Don’t wan’ to get me killed, spose, does yer ?” “ Yer won’t hev’ sech a chance all yer life. Ha! here comes the herd. Get out of the’r way, every man. Ha! ha! see them blamed Injins go.” The wolves were getting out of the way of the rush at an odd pace, something be- tween the run of a wolf and the gait of a rabbit. They had not calculated on being pushed, and were just able to escape. Jake stopped to watch them, laughing aloud, and forgetting utterly his own posi- tion. The rest rode out to the skirts of the herd, and, as they turned to look, be- hold, the negro was in the midst of the herd, borne on by their rush, and his legs so bound against the sides of his horse, that he could not budge an inch! The wolves were out of sight, but, all at once, with a bedlam-like howl, they reappeared, a score of mounted savages, shaking their spears in the air. It was the same band who had chased the party the day before—Blackfeet. Knowing the speed of their horses, they did not pursue when the hunters turned in flight, but chased the flying herd. _ They could see them upon the skirts of the herd, pouring in their arrows, and they knew that the black was doomed, for all they could do to aid him. They turned toward the camp, sorrow- fully enough. As they approached it, a fear toolc possession of them. They hurried on. ‘The camp was utterly forsaken ! “It isa trick,” cried Dolf ‘“ They are hiding somewhere. Come out, Charlie ; no skulking, you know.” Only the echoes answered him. “ Come, ome, that will do,” he repeated. “What isthe use? You promised to have something for us to eat when we came back.” “T don’t like the looks of this at. all,” said Willie. ‘“ Do you think it is a trick, Rube ?” The hunter shook his head. “ No, no ' | | “Let’s drive the | Old Rube, the Hunter. in this country yer can’t count on any thing. It’s Injin deviltry, or ’m much mistaken. It was all he said, but the , And yet, I don’t see any trail.” “ There must be one ; spread out and fina it.” They strayed in all directions over the prairie, and came back with blank faces. “ You haven’t been out by the graves,” said Willie. Rube had forgotten that, and now walked out in that direction Wher they reached the spot, they saw him stoop and examine the earth intently, and then he rose and beckoned them tocome out. They ran to him and found him bending over fresh blood-stains on the ground. Near the graves the earth was trampled and the grass crushed by many feet; and there, right across the grave, were fresh blood-stains. Whose blood? Their hearts stood still. “It seems as if fate was working against poor Charlie,” said Willie, choking down a sob. ‘“ Here he is taken again, and, per- haps, wounded.” “This yer ain’t 7s blood!” said Rube. “How do you know that?” “Easy enough. Yer look here, you will see whar’ the heel of a pa’r of moccasins hes dug into ther sile. Thet Injin is the one who were wounded. I’m sure of it, ’Sides, Iajin blood ain’t like white blood, no- how.” “ Where’s the difference ?” “ Ain’t ther’ a difference in the’r hides ? Wal, ef thar’s a difference in the’r hides, it stan’s to reason thet ther’ sh’u’d be a differ- ence in the’r blood as well. Yer don’t per- tend to say thet the same kind er blood flows in Miss Ida’s veins as ther’ does in Meton’s? No, there’s as much difference ez, ther’ is ’tween prime whisky and rotten vinegar. This yer is black blood—an Injin lost it.” “How many were there of them ?” “Can’t tell, yit. Wait till I go round.” The hunter walked about the place for some minutes, and came back with a very decided look on his face. “ You know all about it,” said Dolf; “I can see it in your face.” “ Yes, I think I can see it. Thetwo kem’ out here by the graves to talk, an’ the cow- ardly brutes crept up behind them. Twa of them went under, I take it, before they c’u’d take the boy. But they’ve got him, and ar’ off for the Crow country.” “ What shall we do ?” “ Foller them,’ answered the hunter, sternly. “I ain't redeemed my vow yit.” “ How do you know itis Meton? Might it not be the Blackfeet, now ?” said Dolf. Rube looked at him in silent wrath for a half-minute, while Dolf, who had again committed the “ unpardonable sin,” shrunk away, and hastened to apologize. “Don’t get mad, now, Rube, please. You know I was born a doubter, and I can’t | A OBI built a fire, and set down on a log by it. help it, the best way I can fix it. meant it as a question.” “Put it as a question, then. How do I know thet itis Meton? ‘’Cause here is his hoss-track, plain as day. An’ here are a dozen other marks. But we ain’t got no time to lose. In my way of thinkin’, we’ve got a long trail to foller, and it will bring us to the Crow country. We'll save them, ,” or die a tryin’. _ just as it should be. i re CHAPTER VI On the Tratl Again. “ Ler’s go at this yer’ as if it were an all- day job, boys,” said Rube. “ Let’s look at the case as it stands. These yer’ scamps hes taken our friends, and we are bound to take them back. Thet’s all right—thet’s We wouldn’t be half Now, then, We mought ketch up to men if we didn’t save them. for the best way. them, by ridin’ hard, before they got to ' med’ a stroke fer a deer. their village. I say we mought do this, but would it pay best ?” “Why not?” said Dolf. “If they get to the Crow yillage we will never get them out. There are only three of us now.” “'Thet’s jest it; an’ ef we hed a dozen, enough to whip the Crows out an’ out, then I mought be fer ridin’ hard an’ ketchin’ them. But, the way it is, we can’t fight. Now, I s’pose you hed med’ up yer mind to ride inter the Crow country, inter the village, and take them out in the face of the Crown nation. No good ter think thet way. ‘Ther’ is only one way to do it, and thet by tricks. We may get snapped up ourselves in tryin’ ter do it, but thet is as it happens. We must try. And we must ’member thet any thing happening to us is death ter them. Soa.lI can say, is, de car’- Sul.” The trail wasa wide one. Evidently the Indians had no fear of the now weak party. They did not calculate on what might be done by brave men. That the three would be foolhardy enough to follow them was beyond their thought. “Yer see how it is,” said Rube, as they rode on. “They don’t think we'll foller. Thet’s jest like an Injin, right over. They’d desart a friend ef they was in danger, and they think whites ain’t human no more then they ar. We'll try thet before we're done with’em. I’m sorry about poor Jake. The feller hes been with us in a many tight places; an’ though he were always scart nigh about to death, he never turned fully white yit. I ’member one scrape he hed with a grizzly. ”T'was nigh on to three y’ars ago, an’ we were up on the Missouri, after beaver. ”T’'were a hard winter, an’ we built up a hut of boughs an’ covered it with bark, an’ calculated to stay until we had taken all the pelts in thet part of the stream. Beavers seemed to walk inter our traps thet year, an’ we hed nothin’ ter do but take them out and bait ag’in. This yer kept a goin’ till our meat began ter run low, an’ we hated ter leave, fer beaver never were so hungry as them. So, one day, I tuk my ride, and left him ter keep camp while I I calewated ] | mought find one up on the mountains, sum- | ers, and then we c’u’d get along another | week, e “ Jake hed a great notion fer comfort, so he Arter a while he concluded ’at he would go out and look at the traps near by. He got a good load of beaver, an’ was a-bringin’ them in, ter skin ’em comfortably by the fire, when, just as he stuck his nose inter the lodge-door, he heard a growl, and, look: in’ in, thar’ were the biggest grizzly these _ yer eyes ever saw, a-toastin’ hisself by the | JOO sGOimn G i (E(0)