Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 119 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

6 war cry, the entire. party charged forward, brandishing their lances, or bows and arrows, with. a few guns; for. at that time the Apaches were but poorly supplied with firearms. ‘“‘ Steady, lads—wheel about, an’ remember what I said to you. about holdin’ your fire,” coolly ordered Mustang Sam. | Motionless as, statues the emigrants faced the yelling horde, their weapons readiness for use in case their young leader should be wrong in his reasoning. If there were faces paler than usual among the group, and one h throbbed with fear, a braver y of men_ never faced the red-skinned hornets of the prairie, Though so vigorously begun, the charge. of the Apaches weakened toward the end, and when within two hundred yards of the little band, the black mass divided and. swept around the emigrants until they stood in the center of a double circle, revolving in different. directions. “Steady, thar!” cried Mustang Sam, as the emigrants .showed confusion. ‘‘Turn your horses’ tails together, but wait ontel you hear from me. The varmints is only tryin’ to skeer us.’ The men obeyed promptly, and. quickly a hollow circle was formed, the face of each rider toward the rapidly galloping savages. Yell- ing and preening, more like fiends inca nate than Humans, the Apaches were ually nar- rowing their cordon. But Mustang Sam had witnessed such tactics before, and he resolved to checkmate the move, ‘Hold fast, boys. I’m goin’ out to dropa varmint. Ef they make a break ’ithin range splatter away at ’em, as I told ye afore. Don’t e all to onc’t.” With the last words Mustang touched Tornado wita the spur, and the stallion bounded like a aeer over the dry sand, carrying its master within range of the savages before they divined his purpose. Then at a twitch of the bow-stall, he stood motionless as a rock, while the border- er’s rifle leaped to his shoulder, The Apaches in front tried to evade the shot by dinging themselves behind their horses’ bodies; but the Apache aimed at was too slow. With the spiteful crack of the ranger’s rifle, the Indian was. hurled far from his horse, shot through the body, the terrific tall finishing what the bullet rr pa He lay as he fell, a quivering mass of lifeless humanity. A taunting yell broke from Mustang’s lips as he noted the effect of his flying shot. The Apaches appeared fairly beside themselves with rage at this bold defiance, and screeching like demons esi charged, with bows bent and fire- arms e ed. Fully a dozen of the nearest braves made a dart at Mustang Sam, whose rifle they knew to be empty, and they hoped to avenge the death of their comrade by a volley of arrows before the e-face could retreat to his men. But Mustang did not mean to retreat just then. The fighting devil was roused in his breast, and ns wntte a starving panther at the first taste Oo ; A glane. showed him that the emigrants stood fi" .n, and were not shaken by the prospect of a collision, then he dropped the rifle across his thigh, drawing a revolver in either hand, Hiseye glared like living coals; his face was stern-set and white almost as a statue of mar- ble. A wonderful change was wrought in the prairie dandy. With a Uagle yell he urged Tornado forward, guidi~,z nim alone by his knees and the swaying of nis lithe body. Almost before the Apaches could realize his movement, he was upon them. Snorting angrily, with gleaming th and burning eyeballs, Tornado hurled himself upon the nearest mustang, bearing both horse and rider to the ground in a confused heap, Taken by surprise, the Apaches scattered up- on either side, and their arrows, dischar almost without an attempt at aim, hurtled wide of the mark. In rapid succession the borderer’s revolvers spoke, until a roll of smoke seemed to surround him. Here, there, forward, backward to the right or left, Tornado plunged, ided by his master’s body, and the pistols claimed a etim, now a horse, now a rider. The Apaches yelled in tones of wonder and half dismay. The stern white face seemed that of more than merely mortal man, and one who held the pow- ers of lifeand death at will. Probably nota dozen braves in the Apache nation had heard of the deadly revolver; little wonder then that they were awed by this brave who could fire all day without once stopping to reload his wea- pons. . Tornado plunged heavily against a mustang striking it to the ground with his hoofs. And then, for the mement free of immediate antag- Mustang Sam. onists, Mustang Sam cast a glance toward his comrades, The Apaches had charged in. good. earnest, Though knowing that some of their number must fall; they believed they could ride down the Roe nates with one rus by mere force of numbers. But Mustang Sam’s influence still remained with the emigrants. Swiftly suc- ceeding each other, the three marksmen he had selected, picked their man and fired as soor as they came within ge. So coolly and delib- érately had they fired, that two braves fell dead and the third was crushed beneath the body of his mustang, whose the bullet intended for its master’s heart. Then the voice of Edward Bland rapidly called aloud the names of his comrades in succession, not a man touching trigger until. called upon, and in full half the cases dropping his game. Firm as a rock they stood there, though the arrows, with now and then a bullet, were raining heavi- ly and thickly upon them. ‘*Hold your places! Out your revolvers and show them your metal, lads!’ shouted Bland, setting the good example. It was at this moment that Mustang Sam took in the scene, and a glow of pride crimsoned his cheek as he noted the cool bravery of his little band. He saw that he had not overrated their Bi ba y a dozen savages were between him and the of emigrants, half of them_ seeing naught but him, Bend forward, Mustang shouted to his charger, and dashed upon the enemy. ‘They sprung aside, plying their bows, But a flying target is difficult. to hit, especially when it holds a brace of revolvers, A moment later the Mad Rider reached his comrades, and loudly cheered them on with their deadly work. The savage never wore paint that could long withstand such a withering. fusilade, while so inefficiently armed himself, For a moment the wavered, then turned and abruptly retrea though not so hastily, but that théy carried o their dead and disabled warriors, But if re- pulsed, they were not defeated. A sullen yell answered the triumphant cheers of the pale- faces. It said that the end was not yet. A hasty examination showed the following: two mén were dead, transfixed with feathered shafts; several others were wounded, but none seriously. Mustang Sam _ himself carried one arrow in his shoulder, and another in his left thigh; fortunately neither were more than sis t flesh wounds. Of the horses, one was ed, with a number of scratches among the others, “We got off lucky that time, all. things con- sidered. But these poor fellows—” and Bland’s voice faltered. “They died like men, an’ they shall have a decent burial, ef I die. for’t ! e ’em on the extra hoss, an’ ef the Apaches gits thar skulps, they must raise mine fust,” said Mustang. ‘What shall we do now?” asked Heflin, ‘We sot out to go to the hills, so I reckon we'll keep on.” 4 hey are between us—” “Tet ’em stay thar. They’ve had. one taste of what we’re made of, an’ ef they hanker a’ter it, I_ reckon we kin spare .’em- another. But you'll see ’em scatter. y may keep around ‘us, but as long’s we keep in a bunch, it’ll be be- yond range, you bet!” Bearing in their midst the horse upon whose back the two dead pulgrens were bound, the advanced. As Mustang Sam had_pre- cted, the PDAches gave way before them, keeping beyond rifle-shot, though still surround- ing the cavaleade. It was a pane, DeneuiaL scene, one not often witnessed; the little band 80 calmly marching on, in the face of nearly a hundred Apaches upon the war-path, who kept at a 1 distance on every side. For fully an hour the emigrants marched on thus. Then Mustang utter a low cry, and shad- ing his eyes with one hand, peered eagerly be- fore him. An Apache, bestriding a noble chestnut is there, galloping swiftly back and forth. There could no mistake, *Tt’s Comanche, by the "Tarnal!” gritted Mustang, his eyes flashing, his chest heaving. ‘** Boys, that hoss is mine, an’ I’ll have him bac or bu’st somethin’ in the tryin’ !” “Tt would be madness to risk a race now!” ** But Pil do it, ef I cain’t manidge any other way. No red nigger ain’t agoin’ to ride Com- anche while I live,” quietly replied Mustang, placing his thumb and forefinger to his mouth. At the shrill whistle, the noble chestnut ab- ruptly halted and flung up his head, neighing loudly. Again the well-known signal sounded, and then the animal recognized its master. With a shrill shriek of joy, the amimal head had received — stretched out in full peed toward the emigrants, its rider desperately tugging at the reins. The Apaches uttered yells of surprise and warning, doubtless thinking their comrade mad. Straight as an arrow Comanche made for his master, and Mustang laughed loudly as he noted the ludicrous terror imprinted upon the Indian’s face. Half-frantic with fear, the Apache dropped the reins and leaped to the ound, rolling over and over in the mud. Be- ore he could make an attempt to rise, Mustang Sam’s rifle spoke, and a bullet crashed its way through the red-skin’s brain. 7 k out! they’re charging!” cried Edward Bland. ‘‘Let ’em come! Good boy, Comanche! Ain't he a jewel, boys?” cried Mustang, as the chestnut halted de him, whickering with delight, reaching up his velvet muzzle for a caress from his loved master. ‘But I’m goin’ to lift that varmint’s hair—so look out. Houp- la!” added Sam, as he leaped into Comanche’s saddle and darted ahead. The black stallion snorted angrily, and then ranged alongside the chestnut. But for a sharp word from Mustang there would have been & battle royal between the equine rivals, there and then. The Apaches evidently divined the Mad Rider’s object, and with angry yells they flocked forward. But, laughing loudly, Mus- tang reached the corpse t, and sweeping around it, without slackening his speed in the least, he stooped low and clutched the head of the dead brave, with a strength wonderful in one of such build, lifting it up and flinging the body across the saddle. Then the knife flashed forth, and a rapid circling motion removed the trophy. Swinging it above his head, Mustang uttered a taunting yell, as he wheeled once more into position at the head of his men. It was a daring act, but one of utter reckless- ness. The, deed fairly maddened the Apaches, and brought on another conflict. With raven- ing yells, they dashed upon the eae ae: band, And once more the rifles spoke rapidly, but the savages dash on. Once more the revolvers lay; the air isdarkened with smoke and hurt- ing arrows, and blood flows freely. CHAPTER IV. STRIKING TRAIL. THE maddened Apaches charged with a fury that seemed irresistible. The little, lean, wy horses were going at full speed, apparently wit momentum, audacity and dash enough to break a square of infantry, or carry a battery of artillery. The half-wild mustangs fairly flew over the sand, the red-skins plying their bows with wonderful rapidity. For a moment the little band of oe tae seemed doomed. Itdid not seem ible that they could escape being massacred to a man. But then the rifles of the a Agee spoke in regular rotation, and being held by men who were cool as though at play, the leaden missiles told severely upon. the charging red-skins. Yet the Apaches dashed. on with unabated vigor, lowering the steel points of their lances, as though meaning to charge bodily over the enemy. ‘‘ Give ’em your pistols, but keep your places, an’ we'll whip ’em yit!” yelled Mustang Sam, setting the example. For a second time that day, the revolvers of the emigrants sounded the death-roll. Each man fired as rapidly as he could cock his weapon, and the reports were blended together in one long, rattling roll, answered by twanging bow-strings and clattering lances. Yet, despite their loss, despite the fact that one or more of their number dropped to the blood-stained sand with every leap of their mustangs, the eee charged on. The insult flung in their teeth by Mustang Sam seemed to have completely maddened them, and rendered them insensible to fear or prudence, — The foremost braves dashed with leveled lances at the Mad Rider, determined to ha¥e revenge. Mustang Sam laughed recklessly as he prepared for them. ta touch of his knees, Comanche bounded forward, and swaying his body to one side Mustang caught the long, scalp-bedecked shaft beneath his arm, with one quick motion ree ping it in twain. At the same moment h revolver ke, and a second Apache reeled back, the blood unig Kapp from his broad chest, the prea ten ing, ce dropping from his nerveless hands, as the snorting pony abruptly wheeled aside. “Took out thar, Mustang!” came Sweatman’s warning voice. Tho Mad Rider turned his head and realized com