Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 1167 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

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I am hunted; so are Cicely and the young red-skin, Pelosee is a hunter, ‘oo—bless me! if we all ar’n’t hunting one an- other. Things are getting so mixed up that I can’t tell t’other from which.” He would have started forward if a dark ob- ject lying in the moonshine to his left had not attracted his attention. A quick step, accompanied by the precau- tionary click of the rifle-lock, brought him to the corpse of the Red Eagle, ‘‘Here’s a go!” ag? Paul said. ‘*Got your end here, I see, boy. Creeks and crashes! Id like to know who did this! If the girl was here, the person who fixed the Indian took her off. That looks plain as sunshize to a fellow. They had a tussle of -it, I see; he was stooping over the ground where Pelosee and the brave had fought. ‘‘There’s the print of a foot bigger than Red Eagle’s, but his has tramped it. ‘St I could find that mark. alone—if—here it is!’ He looked at the footprint in the yielding earth for a moment, and then started up. ‘The witch was here!” he cried, ‘ Sho killed the boy Indian, and, what is worst of all, she’s carried Cicely away. Now the fear—the trou- ble—begins) Why did she leave me in the for- est? Her eyes looked like coals, and she means to kill Cicely Draeme.” Piney Paul shuddered to think of the lost girl in the clutches of the jealous Pelosee. He knew not how long the twain had been er. Eagle was cold, and the rigidness of death was in his limbs, : ‘Back it is!” the boy said, discovering the trail of the witch and her captive. ‘ They’ve ne back toward the gorge, t them keep in e moonlight, and I can track them.” But the orb of night soon set and left the forest in the shade. The mi bah was drawing to a close and the darkness that precedes the long gray streaks of dawn lay about the ceaseless hunter. He stopped, resolved to await the child of the morning. | The only sounds that oppressed his ear were the long cry of the mountain wolf, and the rush of the waters through the gorge. } Giving himself over to reflection, Piney Paul sunk at the foot of a pine, wearied but not dis- heartened. The night crept from before the advancing day and with the first arrows of light, the moun- boy cast his eyes across the : Voices had already prepared him for the sight that met his gaze; but it drove him quick- ly aes the tree against which he had rested his lim Upon the opposite bank not a hundred feet away stood the hunters of Nokomis, the stealthy eighteen. They formed a circle about a scarlet , which, standing erect and in a defiant at- ti de, was easily recognizable as Nokomis, the last of his races! The victim had been caged; the tiger was in. _ the power of the hunters, and they would not “Caught at last!” ejaculated Piney Paul. “I know you left me and sold yourself to Cecil Crane for his gold; but yqu did me a good turn the other day, and I’m going to pay you back.” But the Upas was not alone amid the hunters. Near him, but not in the center of the ring, ‘‘T don’t care that for you!” the boy continued, snapping his fingers as he looked at the white man. ‘ You ain’t any better than the mah who ou to come here, But I will get Noko- mis out 0’ his fix.” Sot ea 25 _ The Indians seemed on the point of sacrificing S Ss _ the man who had eluded the vengeance of their tribe so oon Raa was no escape while every eye was u an, Piney Paul raised rifle and looked along the barrel, “The fellow who cut the vines down is there!” ed any feet if the vie docen's an oesn Good-by, Mr. Ptar You’ve cut . 3 silence followed s words, _Ttwas a death-shot, for the Brown Ptarmigan | roundings, _ The Hidden Lodge. went backward ‘with a loud cry, and fell at the feet of the hunted Upas. “Run, Nokomis! run!” shouted Piney Paul, showing himself. ‘‘Get up and dust, now or never!” Nokomis did not hear the last words of advice, but, like a startled deer, he dashed through the ronks of his hunters, and fled like an arrow. Simon Oldfoot followed the exile’s example; but with poor success. Heran with sorry judg- ment, and suddenly found himself at the edge of the cliff! : There he stopped, and shrunk from the chasm, ‘** You ran the wrong way, Simon!” cried Piney Paul. ‘Go back and die like a man!” A cry of rage burst from the giant’s throat, He turned and found the Mohicans upon him. With uplifted hatchets they closed about him, and then and there the career of a hireling was brought to a close. | Meanwhile Nokomis had disappeared, with six pursuers at his heels, ‘They might as well try to catch a streak o’ daylight!” said Piney Paul. ‘‘One good turn deserves another always, We're square now, Nokomis!” _ The name of the flying chief was still quiver- ing the speaker’s lips, when a shower of arrows fell around him. ** Too far for good work!” he cried, smiling at the barbed shafts. ‘‘ Now it’s my turn.” tag stepped boldly inte view with reloaded rifle. The Indians divined his intention, and started back; but one of their number stopped, and dropped dead across the tomahawked corpse of Simon Oldfoot! CHAPTER XVII. A SHORT-LIVED TRIUMPH. THROUGH a forest that stretched far and dark from the base of a mountain, crept, rather than walked, a white man, whose face was haggard, but cruelin its expression. His soiled garments had been torn by rocks and briers, and he seem- eda fugitive flying from a posse of inveterate hunters, That necessary weapon, the rifle, he did not possess; but in his hand he carried a long cudgel, which he trailed at his side. He was no expe- rienced trailer, for every now and then the pine cones were crushed by his feet, and he started at the strange sounds thus made. It was Cecil Crane, the hunter from the great city between the two rivers. He was alone, traversing the Adirondack woods, not flyin from the hunters, but himself a determine hunter still, and at that moment on the trail. Several weeks of misfortunes and thrillin vicissitudes had since he entered the wil mountainous region to ascertain how his hire- lings, the two giants, had progressed in their search for long-lost Cicely Draeme, He had found them full of fears engendered by the wildness of the country, and the adventure de- scribed in our initial chapter. He discovered that he had mutinous men to control; but he had purchased their fealty, from time to time, by lavish promises of gold He was now alone. Tarsus Nightwell had not been seen since that night. when Piney Paul fought him on the banks o e Crazy river, and, at the same time, Nokomis and Simon Old- foot had disappeared, As for himself, the A had ori a ae ¢ arg tet 5 rible speed down the ‘ge a y some singular freak; owing him half dead upon the rocky shore to recover in the night, and to Ooh alone for another week the search for Cicely. What motive controlled Cecil Crane’s evil irit? Why did he leave a luxurious home in ew York city to lose himself to civilization among the wild grandeur of the Adirondacks, that he might unearth the hidden abode of the Eagle’s white love? _From his lips shall presently fall the story of eg eel oh pena , an ae fair being whom he so long and reven shall it for the first tens. | mph 48 The shadows lengthened about Cecil Crane as he slowly pursued his way. They at last be- came as one great pall ororgprsening¥ sur- and creeping darkly up the moun- ‘Yonder at last!" he said, halting suddenly as the glimmer of a fire greeted his vision. “1 thought I must be near the spot where I saw the Indian girl yesterday. If the other is only there, how lucky I will call myself. Caution! now, that’s the word. I’ve been with the In- dians to have learged something about the woods. | a : young Gol > ; = | i nr nS, 13 The light increased in size and intensity as the man advanced, and at last a long crawl through the dense woods brought him to a spot from whence the occupants of the littie camp were visible. Cecil Crane could scarcely believe the evi- dence of sight, Seated on a log, and in the light of the fire, was a fair young white girl, whose garments re- vealed a story of forest life, and of long absence from the homes of her race, She was very beautiful to the solitary watcher; her golden hair fell to her shoulders in long Sag folds, and she was running her white fingers through it ina manner which proclaimed her thoughts to be far away. The eyes of the man flashed madly like those of the tiger, as well they might, for the end of the long trail seeined reached at last. Cicely Draeme sat before him! He knew it was she though sixteen years had passed since he had last gazed upon her face, The stories brought mysteriously from the heart of the Adirondacks were not the idle inventions of the myth-loving Indians. adh, age Pap fairy of the moun- tains was a reality. She was even now before ee ot far away, preparing a mountain grouse for the palate, sat the other tenant of the camp —a large Indian girl, whose heart was in the task to which she had assigned herself, The sole weapon visible to Cecil Crane was the rifle that lay on the ground at her side. The wood- land *‘ spit” also lay near by, and the tempting grouse was almost ready to satisfy the appe- tites of the twain. For several minutes the white hunter fastened his eyes on the girl who occupied the log, almost. completely ignoring the Pag of her red com- panion. He hunted Cicely, not Pelosee; he wanted the white girl, but if the red one inter- fered, why, he would not hesitate to drive a knife to her heart, y When he left the tree behind which he had secreted himself to view the camp, it was to in- augurate a crawl which would have been credit- able toa Mohican brave. His movements de- scribed a half-circle with an objective point, which was the white girl. Like the serpent approaching the feeding bird, Cecil Crane, bringing the caution of reven and his forest cunning into play, neared tlie o ject of his long hunt. Cicely was watching Pelosee roasting the rouse, and did not catch a sound that betrayed ® spoiler’s eperons t Cecil Crane crouched and b the ound. He was in the girls shadow, thrown y the fire. She was a k silhouette in the ruddy light, The slender fingers still toyed with the luxu- riant golden locks, when, with a half-wolfish cry which he could not suppress, the eager crawler sprung forward and seized ‘ey! Lifted from the log by Cecil Crane, the white girl uttered a shriek, which caused Pelosee to operation and spring erect. The island witch took in the situation of af- fairs at a glance, and started forward upon the impulse of the moment. But the hunter, jerk- ing the knife from between his teeth, held it so menacingly near Cicely’s heart that she stopped abruptly and looked a Crane cried to the Pelosee, ‘I’ve been ons a long time for this child, and now that I have her, I am not going to give = tamely, Go back and finish your b wit no intermeddling. Girl,” to Cicely, ‘' you don’t know me?” . No,” was the reply. ‘‘ But I knew you were hunting for me. y am I hunted like a wolf? You know, and will you not tell me?” Cecil Crane was puzzled by the look of intense curiosity that fi Cicely’s eyes. “Yes, I will tell you!” he with a ance at Pelosee. ‘‘My name is Crane. ever heard it in these parts, I guess, unless the devilish boy shot it into your ears!” “The mountain boy never told me anything.” ‘* Which is deuced fortunate for your peace of mind!” was the y: died ae New Yor a little sed not his onfla, nevertheless. He said in t of fifteen, that heir was not in the city to H begin ter, aan cr eon t talking cause you have lived so — 5 E ¥ tand where you are, red witch!” Ceoil astounded c the estate, it should Se eae