Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 105 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

her away. Rube at once fell in with this plan, and together they crawled back to the lodge. The young spy knew the lodge in which Ida had stayed before, and toward this they now made their way. She, worn by the fatigue of the day, was sleeping quietly, under the light of a burning taper. Even the rough Indian held his breath, at the perfect loveliness of the face, sleeping. “T will go in,” whispered Rube. “ You watch.” The other complied, and with a cat-like stealthiness Rube glided into the lodge. She lay upon the pile of buffalo-robes, in the regal dress she had worn that day, and her hair covering her like a mantle. He had no time to hesitate. But stooping down, he covered her mouth and nostrils with his broad palm. She struggled fiercely, and the other, looking in, saw that she would free her mouth if she was not held tighter. Just as he was coming in, Rube stooped, and whispered in her ear. She became quiet at once, and suffered a gag to be put into her mouth. He offered her this indignity in order to keep up ap- pearances, but as soon as they were out of the lodge, carrying her between them, he removed it with one hand, while he sup: ported her head with the other. As they neared the broad band of light, the Indian whispered to Rube, and they darted across like a flash of light, fortunate- ly unseen by the guards. But as they crossed the lighted space, the eyes of the spy dwelt more carefully upon the face of Rube, and he knew that he was not his friend. “ Ha!” he whispered. ‘“ You not Ish-me- no! You not the son of Ac-ta-wan !”’ Both loosed their hold at the same mo- ment. But before they closed, Rube said: “Tf we fight here, they will hear us, and we shall both be taken. Let us go further on, and then let the best man win.” They went on, Ida following closely. After a little they came to the entrance to one of the clefts in the hills, and passed in. “ Here,” said the Indian. Both grasped their knives, and prepared for the fight. “Get out of way, little ’un,” said Rube. “Climb up on one of these rocks an’ see fair.” She con:pliec. Just as they were closing with cautious steps, the light of the moon broke slowly through the last cloud that covered it, and then stood out in an un- clouded sky. Both instinctively took a look at her calm face. “The last time, mayhap,” said Rube. “ Good-by, little ’un, ef I go under.” “ Good-by,” she answered, in a broken voice. A clash of steel was simultaneous with the sound of her voice, and in breathless anxiety she watched the combat. They were fairly matched, and both in splendid condition, and determined to win. The Indian had the advantage of years on his side, but he contended with a man who had never known defeat. Agile as a cat, he was never to be taken unaware. He dodged the blows intended for his heart, or turned them aside with his knife, and then put his own well in. The Indian was bleeding to | death from two wounds, and he saw that | | his only hope was in closing. in, and struck, and both knives flew from | | | Old Rube, the Hunter. the combatants’ hands, and they wrestled Without weapons. It was, as the old hunter says, “ very plucky, but foolish.” The Indian was a child in the hands of the other. In an in- stant he was borne back upon the sod, with two brown hands at his throat. Remorse- lessly they closed about it. A gurgle, a moment’s deathlike stillness, and Rube rose slowly to his feet. “ Come down, little ’un; it’s all over.” “Ts he dead ?”’ she asked. “Dead enough. He were a fool. He found me spyin’ in the village, thort I were his friend, and I j’ined him in stealin’ you away. Pretty well done, I reckon. You wait a minnit.” He raised his fingers to his lips, and ut- tered wu sharp, prolonged whistle, which echoed through mountain and village with startling earnestness. “ What was that for?” she asked. “ You wait a moment.” An answer came back from the _ hill. The hunter took her in his arms, and hur- ried along the side of the mountain, uttering the whistle from time to time. All at once she cried out: “Oh, sir, here are men, coming. Hear their feet.” “ | hear them. they are.” “ What have you done, Rnbe ?” “ Nothin’ much, youngster. What does yer think of thet fer a present?” He set Ida on her feet, and Dolf, in his boyish earnestness, took both her hands in his and welcomed her back. Willie made less show of his pleasure, but his earnest face told that he was happy. - “ And Charlie?” said Willie. “ A prisner yit. Iam goin’ back. Do you two take the girl to the place you know of, an’ then watch her tel I come back. Ye can’t do no good by goin’ with me. There’s goin’ ter be right smart of a fight in the village, and I allow thet I kin save the boy in the rumpus.” “Before you go,” said Ida, taking the brave man’s hands in hers, “let me thank you for what you have done for me. You are going out to danger, perhaps to death, for the sake of one almost a stranger to you. The prayers of a weak woman are all I have to give, but they are yours while I live.” He pressed her hand to his rough lip, and was gone. He knew the way now, and was not long in getting into the village. Without breath- ing, almost, he crept up to the lodge where Charlie was confined, and looked in. It was not empty, for there were two chiefs with him. One held his rifte, and another was helping him to fasten his belt. He was speaking in a low tone. “You are right in giving me weapons now. When was this done?” “ Don’t know how long. Not an hour.” “ Was she asleep ?” “Guess so. Would have screamed, t’ink, ef’s not sleep.” “Yes, yes, they doubtless surprised ner It’s only the boys. Here He rushed , 17 me oa ee es e+ meeping. How many do you think there were ?” “ Two,” said the old chief. Charles was no more than human; and when the chiefs came to him, and told him that some one had taken Ida from her lodge, and that it was thought to be the work of Meton and his men, no wonder that another was added to the already full list of the out- cast’s remorseless enemies. They told him that they needed his aid, and he eagerly promised to join them, for revenge upon Meton. How he hated him now! The vindictive hate which had followed him in the person of the hunter was nothing to the fires which burned in Ads breast. He vowed to suve her from the hands of the chief, or, if she had died at his hands, to take vengeance on him suited to the offense. He followed his new friends from the lodge, clutching his rifle eagerly. “There he goes, poor fellow,” muttered Rube, “ an’ his heart is jist about broke. I wish I c’u’'d get near enough to speak to him. He don’t seem to think of us at all. But here goes to follow them.” The three had entered the lodge of Ida, and he crept up to the opening he had made in the wall. “You see how it is,” said the oldest chief, in such execrably bad English that we can not bring our pen to write it, but must perforce give his mean- ing. “There were two of them, and they came in at the door. She sleeps here. They cover her mouth an’ take her out,, while we were busy. Very bad, dat; sorry we no see dem.” ‘They shall pay for it,” cried the young white man. At this moment there rose a sudden clam- or behind Rube, and half a dozen dark forms darted at him in the gloom. He was discovered, and could do nothing but run for it, as he had no particular wish to “ rub out” any of the faction who supported Charlie, at this particular time. He darted into the shadow, dodged in and out among the wigwams, and at last threw his pursu- ers off the trail. It was very plain that his costume was well known in the village, from the quickness with which he had been pursued. He worked in and out among the lodges, until he came back to the spot where Charlie and the other chiefs were standing. Charlie was giving them his ex- perience. “T was more than half asleep, when something pricked me on thearm. I turn xd round, and saw that a hole had been cut n the bark, and an Indian looked in.” “ How painted ?” asked the old chief. “ Black and red bars across the breast. white and red upon the face.” The chiefs exchanged glances, “ Ish-me-no !” said one. “ Ugh !” grunted the rest, in chorus, “ Who is Ish-me-no ?” demanded Charlie. “Friend of Meton; bes’ friend he got.” “Ah! Then you think— ?” “He carry her way.” At this moment two or three braves rushed breathlessly up to them, shouting something in their tongue, which, though indistinct in their Babel of voices, led him to suppose that they were giving the informa- tion that Ish-me-no was in the camp. ft IOO ¢€om Ss (E