Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 105 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

Old Rube, the Hu.2*°: * CHAPTER VIL. The Crow Council NeEstLInG down among the hills, a few wagues from Powder river, among the Panther Mountains, lay the village ruled by of women, and take her place in the co cil. Ona sort of raised throne of skins, | upon the side of the fire opposite him, he’ _gaw her take her seat, while two old men, patriarchs of their tribe, sat on her right | hand and on her left. A murmur of delight “ We hunted the buffalo upon the plains, and, at morning, we looked for the prophet- ess, and she was gone! We looked long, ‘ion at last, we found her; but she was ye. The white man of the short anal ‘th her. We asked them to give er but they bade us go back, Meton. It numbered three hundred lodges, | ran through the multitude as they saw her 4¢r upto WS; «6. no more. How and was beautifully situated upon the shores | thus enthroned. Her eyes were downcast, | for we should see wu. when the great light of a small lake, peculiar to that region— | except one look flashed quickly across the — should the Crows live ait "We. told a beautiful little lake, whose glimmering sur- | intervening space, which plainly said, of the village had gone etess, They face shone clearly among the leaves, con- | “Courage! Hope!” | them we must have the propa. trasting with their brilliant green. To the The great fire began to blaze fiercely, would not give her up. We east, through a gap in the mountains, Pow- der river could be seen flowing downward to unite its waters and mingle with those of the Great river. The village was alive with excitement, for a swift rider had come in to say that Meton was coming, with buffalo-meat, and prisoners. Squaws were running to and fro, jabbering at the tops of their voices, and preparing for the return of theirlords. YVi- sions of the post, the fagot, and the torch danced before their delighted eyes. With the innate cruelty of their thoroughly sav- age natures, they longed for the tor- ture. The hunters came in about noon, and brought with them Charlie and Ida. They | had been taken at the graves of her parents, after a hard struggle on his part, and the death of two of their number by his hand. They had another prisoner, the brave who had been taken on the day of that fight - upon the prairie, when they were first taken. The Crows had lost their veneration for the prophetess in some respects, for they had guarded her strictly on the march. But, as they came into the village, one of the old men advanced with stately grace, led | her into her own Jodge, spread the skins that she might rest, and went out with se- date steps. The other prisoners were strongly bound. One of the old braves looked at the young Crow, and said: “Why is my son bound ?” It was his father. “You will know at the council,” replied Meton, fiercely. But the young brave cried out; “ He shall know now/ Behold! Meton, he has slain the rest, and now brings me in a prisoner. He is worthy to die.” “What has my son been doing ?” “TI would not give up the prophetess into his hands.” “Let the prisoners go into the lodge,” said Meton, making an imperious gesture with his hands. They were carried into a lodge, still securely bound, while a strong guard of Meton’s own adherents was placed about it on every side. The braves scat- tered into groups through the village, con- versing with one another on the events of the week. The old men, with their usual stolidity, asked no questions, although many missed sons from the ranks of the war riors. The council was called at night. Both prisoners were brought forth and bound to posts before the principal lodge. Charlie looked for Ida; was she there? He could not see her at first, for her face was turned away and her dress was that of the squaws. After a while he saw her leave the crowd | and then a horn sounded three times. At the third summons, one arose and called the name of a warrior. No answer. A roll was called, twelve in number, but no answer was returned. The young brave at the stake started suddenly, for he knew the names. It was the death-roll of the fallen. Ida rose. “ Answer they not, my brother ?” “ No, great prophetess.” “Where shall we seek for them?” she said, sinking back into her seat. This was the method of their council, and the last question gave those who knew any thing of their fate to speak for themselves One after another the braves rose and an- swered for the fullen. Then the old chief ‘on Ida’s right arose. “ Have we then a traitor among us ?” “We have,” said Meton. “ What says the prophetess to this ?” “Let him be brought before us and we will judge him by ou law,” she answered, faintly. A movement was made by several war- riors in the direction of the place where the | prisoner stood. The young Crow was un- | bound and led to the center of the circle. | Meton steod up, pointing to him with a malignant finger. saying, “Behold the traitor!” The young warrior stood erect, with his arms folded across his manly breast, which rose and fell with regular pulsations, as if his blood could not be quickened by the near approach of death. Not a muscle of his face was convulsed; only a haughty firmness dwelt in eye and lip, as if he had nerved himself to meet the worst. “Let my young brother speak,” said the silver voics of Ida, “and tell us how he came here bound and a prisoner.” “ Great prophetess,” he said, “ let my ac- cuser speak first, and then I will answer Let the forked tongue of the ‘ Moose’ finish what he has to say. He isa liar /” Meton clutched at the handle of the hatchet. The young prisoner smiled. “Let Meton speak,” said Ida. hears the words of the young brother.” “Why should I waste time,” he asked ; “vonder traitor must die; and yet it is well that he know that his death is just. My fathers, you sent your young men out to hunt the buffalo. They were ready to go, for the squaws and pappooses needed meat. The prophetess said, ‘ Let me, too, go out © the hunt with you.’ Meton said, ‘It is well, let the prophetess come.’ She took with her the men you had given to be al- ways near her and protect her from harm. You chose them because they were brave. — But they were as snakes in the grass ; they | “ He RR RR a “My fathers, what could we doz * fought them all day. At night many of ~ were dead, and we had not harmed them At night we took them, and all were slain but these. My fathers, it grieved the sou! of Meton that he must shed the blood of a Crow warrior; but it was done, and the others will come back no more.” There was a deep murmur of discontent from the better half of the audience, for all the village had formed a deep circle around the ring of chiefs and old men. The young men who had been slain were the bravy- est of the tribe, chosen for comeliness of person and strength of limb, to be the body- guard of the prophetess. Plainly, Meton had not made a good impression. He saw this, and began to be angry. “T look about me, and many faces that were with me are gone from my sight. Where is the friend of my youth, who has fought with me in a hundred battles? He fell by the long rifle of yonder white man, and the coyotes will make merry over his bones.” An angry buzz rose from the adherents of Meton, and fierce looks were exchanged by the two factions. Then the young pris- oner snoke, for Meton had seated himself. pleased at the impression he at last had made. “The forked tongue is silent, and now will I speak. What right had I to do as I have done, let my words show. I was chosen to be one of the guards to our great prophetess. Good; that was more than I deserved, and I was proud. I loved the prophetess. I was ready to die for her good. So were my brothers, whom the forked tongue murdered on the plains. I took no command from him. The proph- etess said, “Come, let us go.” ask her where she was going. I was not put there to ask, but to obey. We went away, and next day, men, painted like Blackfeet, said the prophetess must be given up to them. Why should ve put on the dress of a Blackfoot? We would not give her up to his hands. He fought us, and was beaten. He lighted the prairie-grass, to burn us where we stood.” A perfect roar of rage broke out from the faction of Ida, and many of the others now joined hoarsely in the cry. In truth, the power of this girl over the village wus won- derful. They reverenced her as akin to Deity. It is no wonder, for her remark- able beauty and grace had won their hearts years before. And when they heard that the prophetess had been in danger, theit anger found vent in these expressions. A malignant scowl deepened upon the face of Meton, as he turned angrily aside. “ He lighted the prairie-grass,’ went on ‘the Hawk,’ asthe young chief was called. I did not. ~"y | were as Blackfeet, enemies of the Crow. | OMIEVOOKSTEOMmM