Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 1158 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

ee ee the trunk of a tree, keeping ciate close watch on the wilderness before ; “Tt has got to be did; it’s no use talking. Bither he or me,” said the trapper, rising slowly to his feet and beginning his advance on the un- conscious savage before him. On went the Nemesis, knife in hand, foot by foot approaching the Indian, slowly but surely. The savage had his eyes carefully fixed upon the open space before him, beyond which, as he essed, lay the camp of the whites. Little did 16 dream that danger was nigh, that the white- skinned trapper, the famous Longlegs_ the beaver-catcher, was on his trail—nay, more, that the keen-edged hunting-knife was even now drawn, ready to be dyed in his heart’s blood! The Blackfoot chief, watching eagerly and intently for signs of the white-skins in the wil- derness before him, was thirsting for the blood of the pale-faces; why not others seek for his blood? With a snake-like motion, the Giant Trapper had crept over the little space that separated him from the Indian; arriving at length within reach of his prey, he prepared for the final movement. momert he crouched, like the tiger preparing for his spring; then, like the ar- row hurled from the bow, knife in hand, he sprung upon the unsuspecting savage. ® eadly stroke, and the keen-edged pac ow knife, driven by the strong arm of the Whi Avenger, was buried to the hilt in the body of the wairior. A single moan of pain alone es- . caped the Indian as the keen knife let out his life-blood; a moment the savage tottered, sway- ing like the pine tree struck by the lightning’s blast, and then he fell forward on his face, stone dead. The Tall Bull had given his last war- whoop, had trod his last war-trail; the Black- foot warrior was now but a piece of senseless clay, lying on the earth at the feet of his mortal enemy. > For a moment Sol gazed upon his prostrate oe “Tt seems a pit, ,” he said, quite mournfully, “‘to kill any of | God’s critters, but it were either his life or mine, one or the t’other, an’ in sech a case, better him nor me. He were a io Rego ged chap too,” continued the trapper ; looks as of he meught ’a’ fought Old Satan.” The Giant Trapper bont over the prostrate warrior and drew the hunting-knife from the body; the blood gushed out afresh. The old trapper, in spite of himself, shuddered at the sight, that, in the dim twilight, looked doubly horrible. He wiped the knife carefully in the carth, by thrusting it in to the hilt and then drawiug it forth. “Tt seems a pity that we can’t live in this world without sheddim blood, but it ean’t be did; rind critter press on some other critter weaker than itself,” said the trapper to himself, softly; ‘“‘ but thar's no use cryin’ over spilt milk. I reckon thar’s many a red heathen will feel the pint of my knife or the bullet of my rifle afore we git out of this. We’re in a pesky scrape, an’ thar ain’t no two ways ’bout it. Sol!” he cried; addressing himself familiarly, ‘ef you've got any bit of sense, now’s the time to show it. Tl leave this feller jist where I struck him; the red devils will be arter us afore we're many hours older. Now fur the camp.” Saying which the trapper proceeded u stream. A few minutes’ walk brought him the glade where he had left Wright, Mudhole and the horses. To the trapper’s astonishment he found the little glade empty, except that the horses stood quietly browsing upon the young shrubs where they had been tethered. ‘‘ Wa-al!” cried the trapper, in astonishment “have the red heathens gobbled up wae and Mudhole, an’ without makin’ any row ‘bout it too? It beats Ned!” ~ But, as if in answer to the trapper’s speech, forth from the little thicket in front of which the horses were tied, camo Wright, rifle in nd. ‘“TIs that you, Sol?” asked the adventurer, as he came toward him, hardly able to distinguish him in the dim light. ‘*Wa-al, I reckon it is,” replied the trapper. ““What in thunder were you a-doin’ in thar?” ‘Your horse a few minutes ago seemed alarmed at the approach of something. I re- membered what you said in regard to his singu- lar gift for smelling out Indians, and thinking rohably that there might be some approaching, took to cover.” “You were right, by hookey!” cried Sol; Bh leetle animile was right every time, you t!” “Are there Indians near, then?’ eagerly asked a te ** Wal, were Indians near, an’ thar’s Sol Ginger. tet eee a a dead buck putty near now,” replied the trap- r. a You have had a fight, then?” ‘‘No; it were too one-sided to call it a fight; I stuck the Injun in the back, an’ he dropped to onc’t.” ‘* Only one?” ‘‘Yes; ef thar had bin more, the fight would have been one-sided t’other way.” ‘‘ Are we in danger now?’ asked Wright. ‘You kin jist bet we air!” replied the trap- per. ‘‘The Injun that I killed were left as a sort of scout upon our movements,” ‘‘The Indians know of our presence here, hen?” ‘‘Wal, they jist do!” cried Sol. ‘‘How on airth they diskivered it I don’t know, unless they stumbled onto our trail by accident,” ‘*Have you seen Courtney ?” ‘Poor feller!” replied the trapper; ‘he’s a risoner in the hands of the cussed red heathens. hey hit him a clip side of the head, I g’pose, fur he were stunned an’ senseless when I got thar, an’ then they toted him off on thar shoul- ders. I should have piled in an’ tried to rescue him, but I didn’t know but what thar were a lot of Injuus back in the bush, an’ of course it would have been folly to risk my own life with- out any chance of saving him.” ‘* That’s very true; but what is to be done?” asked Wright, with evident anxiety. “That's what we've got to find out. We're in a tight place, thar ain’t any use backin’ round the truth. ‘Stead of gittin’ that air treasure that you’re hunting fur among the Blackfeet we'll be lucky ef they don’t git our scal i” said the trapper, quietly and earnestly. ‘ But, what’s become of Mudhole?’ ‘*T don’t know,” answered Wright. “ A few minutes after you and Courtney went down the stream, I looked round to speak to him, and found that he was gone. He must have left the glade nearly at the same time as yourself.” ‘Wal, that air is strange,” said the trapper, thoughtfully. “I kinder have an idee that all ain’t right ’bout that Injun; he’s acted putty ueer ever since we started onto this tramp. erusalem! ef he’s betrayed us to the Blackfeet I'll never have faith in human natur’ arter- wards.” “Tf he has betrayed us, we are lost!” cried Wright. , ‘*] wish to thunder we were lost, so that the durned red-skins couldn’t find us, anyhow!” re- turned the trapper, with one of his good-natured DS. arr What is to be done?” ‘Play the fox an’ sneak fur our lives. I’ve showed fight to-night, which is kinder onnatural fur me; now Till try tother way. The Black- feet have felt my teeth, an’ I ’spect they'll raise kingdom come when they find that dead Injun; so now [ll show ’em a bit of beaver cunnin’.” ‘* What is to be done with the horses?” asked Wright. ‘We've got to leave ’em to shift fur them- selves, Thar ain’t any red Injun in the hull North-west can ketch my leetle animile; she knows enough to stay right round hyer, an’ p’r’aps your hoss will keep mine company. Anyways, we’ve got to try shank’s mare jist now,” replied the trapper. “What is your plan?’ ‘You know I’ve trapped considerable on this ere river, an’ thar ain’t an inch of it from whar it takes its rise in Old Rocky to whar it runs into the Columbia that I don’t know. Wal, up hyer, about ten miles, is what is called the Great Cafion; the Blackfeet run me through the canon last spring—that’s the time they capti- vated the pe tries, that they traded down at the fort, cuss em, for powder an’ lead. That time {run through the caiion I dodged the red hea- thens slick. You see, in the caiion I diskivered a little cave; I hid in it an’ the red suckers never found me, though they were a-howlin’ all ‘round me. Now, we'll jist ptt for that air hole S nee an’ jist throw the savages off the rac ‘* Will they not follow our trail?” ' “Tet ’em!” cried Sol, scornfully. ‘TI reckon Lain’t bin a ADC in these hyer regions fur nothin’. Wait till we strike the Flathead river an’ Pll bother the keenest-nosed red-skin that ever smelt out a trail,” ‘* But Courtney ?”’ ‘** Jes’ you let us git out of this hobble, an’ I'll snake him out of the Blackfoot village as quick as a wink. Ef I don’t, jist you put me to bed with a rattlesnake an’ let him tickle me to death with his tail.” The trapper then released the horses—patting the neck of his own little pony as he did so, as an co mmee . ee ee 9 oe ee twain took their rifles and provision-pouches, and struck off through the wilderness in a north- western direction. After a tramp of about two hours they struck the valley through which flowed the waters of the Flathead river. CHAPTER VII. THE TURTLE BECOMES AN EAGLE. By the time the old trapper and Wright ar- rived at the bank of the river, the moon was up full in the heavens, and shed its clear, pure light down upon the turbid waters of the Flat- head. ‘The cai.on is "bout a half a mile up-stream: the Injun village is "bout four miles above that: the cave we're arter is right at the mouth of the canon. You see the river hyer flows over a rocky bed, an’ it ain’t deep; all we've got to do is to wade up-stream to the cave, an’ ef the red heathens kin fc ler our trail, they kin jist take my pile, they kin,” said the guide, with one of his quaint smiles. ** But, will they not follow our tracks to the river’s bank?’ asked Wright. ‘* Sartin!” quietly answered the trapper. Will they not suspect that we have gone up the stream. ‘** What in thunder’s to make ’em?”’ asked Sol. ** Aint it more likely that we should go down the stream instead of up right into thelr clutches? Now, this is my plan: The red devils will foller our trail, trace it to the river, conclude, in course, that we've gone down-stream, an’ go arter us like all git out; an’ all the time we'll be Sid snug, right under their noses.” ‘Your plan is excellent,” cried Wright, ‘““ Jes’ so; guess I ain’t trapped beavers onto this ’ere stream for nothing; but, let’s be going: time’s short, life is sweet, an’ if we want to keep our top-knots jist whar they air now, we won't be slow in gittin’ up this hyer river,” So, into the river Sol went, followed by Wright. <A toilsome, difficult march was that littJe half-mile up the rocky bed of the river— the water now up to their ankles, and then ris- ba rec rer ae to their waists. t last the march was ended, and the two stood within the gloomy cave; the entrance to the cavern was a small hole, some three feet in circumference, hidden by branches and clumps of bushes, so that no one, without close exami- Rea could have discovered the secret hiding- place. Within the cavern was a small apartment, possibly six feet square, ‘‘ What do you think of this?’ asked Sol, as they entered the retreat. ‘* Excellent!” replied Wright. ‘ It will prob- ably save our lives,” ‘“That’s so,” replied the trapper, earnestly. “Without this we’d be gone-up suckers, sure; but, how the red niggers diskivered us is a mys- tery.” tf Can the Indian Mudhole, have betrayed us?” asked Wright. ‘Wal, I don’t know,” said Sol, thoughtfully. ‘‘The critter owed a great deal tome. Ef he has betrayed us the motive must have been a powerful one,” ° ‘*Does Mudhole know of the existence of this place?” asked Wright. ‘“No,” answered the trapper, confidently; “tient known to any living soul ’sides mys f, that I knows on, I diskivered it by accident. Hyer we're safe. I’m a-goin’ to take a leetle scout ‘round the Injun village, jist to see what I kin diskiver. I have an idee that the White Wolf went back to the village arter leaving the big Injun as scout—the feller that I stuck—fur to git is warriors an’ go fur us. If my idee is right, then the best time for me tosneak the boy out of the Injun village will be to-night, when the rh ey are lic onto the war-path ap’in’ us. So, while they air huntin’ us Pll jist risk a visit right into their village, an’ p’haps I kin git the oung feller out of his spesky scrape—that is, ef e ain’t hurt too bad,” “Go, then, in heaven’s name!” cried Wright, “T will await your return here.” “« Jes’ so; but don’t show the end of your nose outside of the cave, fur the red devils wil! be all ’round us ’fore morning.” ‘*T shall be careful.” ‘‘T shall be back in *bout four hours,” added Sol. “Pve got to keep my wits’bout me or T shall go plum into the clutches of these red heathens afore I know it. Ef by any accident the sarpints do diskiver the cave, why, you’ve got the three rifles, an’ as only one man ata time can git into the hole, you kin fight half a hun- dred of the beasts without much trouble.” Then the trapper crawled through the opening, step- ped into the river and commenced his perilous much as to say, ‘“‘good-by.” This done, the ' scout, Eomicboo (e .S:.GO