Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 162 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

’ CHAPTER X. PETE GOES A-FISHING, AND GETS CAUGHT. “*Don’r b’lieve dar’s nothin’ but hin dis yere creek,’ grumbled Pete, after a halt-hour's a pom. in which he had brought 4 a slender show of yellow beauties. “It’s catties I’s arter, and I don’t wan't ne o’ yer old pearch,”’ rapping his line around the pole he started down the creek, in search of a locality in which catfish might be found. Dropping the line in at sf ‘prom- sing point, he slowly moved downward, until he was nearly a mile below the camp. At length a sudden tug on the extremity of his line buried the floating cork, and wakened Pete from his listlessness. “S’pose it’s anoder pearch. Bites like one,” he muttered, as he gave a quick jerk to fasten the hook, and then, with a strong, steady pull, lifted the line from the water. At its extremity hung a naked-skinned, whitish fish, with flatvened head, and wide, sickle-shaped jaws. ‘Ef dar ain’t a caf¥p!”’ cried the delighted boy, as he quickly landed catch. “A reg’lar brown- backer, too; jess de bess kind, an’ fat as butter. But Lisn’t gwine to slide from yer s’long as dar’s a catty left.’ Removing the fish from the hook with great care, for Pete knew better than to fool with catfish spines, le baited his hook and threw it in again, seat himself luxuriously on the ores root of an ol chestnut, which here overlooked the stream. For a half-hour more he continued to fish, with varied success, adding several catties, and some other fish to his first catch. ‘* Bet I’s gwine to keep dese catties in de pan till de folks is all filed up. Den I’! ax ‘em, ‘Don’t ye lub catty?’ an’ dey’ll say, ‘Bet we does, Pete, but don’t want to bu’st on fish.’ Den I'll come in dis way—‘ Ain’t so berry hungry, but don’t like to see good vittals spile.’ An’ de way dem catties ‘ll slide down dis nig’s throat! Yaw! yaw! I’s got to laff when I t’inks— Hey! w'a’s dat?” Pete's laugh was suddenly changed to an intent observation of the stream. It curved just above him, and around that curve, a minute before, a boat had appeared, rowed by a skillful hand. But the boy was just then too intent on his fish to yerceive what was going on around him. When, at ength, his keen eyes did get sight of the boat its oc- cupant had disappeared, and it was floating down the center of the channel apparently unoccupied. “Ef dar ain’t our skiff!”’ ejaculate the boy, “Oh, lawsee! we'll hab boot-leather now sure. Dere's dat ole cook Jack ll kick Pete squar’ froo de camp. Mustn't tied it right when I fotched it back from t’other side. Dar it goes!” Pete stood looking wistfully at the floating boat, which was now opposite him, the curve of the chan- nel here taking it near the opposite shore. Dar’s no use talkin’,’’ continued the boy. “I's gwine fur dat boat.” He kicked off his shoes as he spoke, threw his jacket and his ~— on the soil, and carefully laid aside his rod and line. F “Ugh!” he exclaimed, as he set his bare foot in the water, and drew it back witha shudder. “It's jess as cold 's if it come from an ice-house. Good deal sooner stay wharlis. Can’t get dat boat dough, *thout goin’ forit. Anyhow, it’s on’y de fust jump dat hurts.”’ Pete drew slightly back, made a short run, and dived into the flowing water. He came up after an instant spluttering and shivering, but swimming valiantly after the escaped boat. “S’pose dere’s nothin’ like cold water fur de narves,’’ meditated the boy, as he continued to swim. <- But *s some med’cine as isn’t good fur de feel- in’s.”” The boat was on the other side of the creek, sev- eral yards below him, and floating rapidly with the strong current. But Pete was like a fish in the wa- ter, and gained on it at every stroke. In twoor three minutes he was near enough to grasp its side, and draw himself partly out of the water. aes de oars is in it,” he muttered, drawing himself further up. ‘It’s ‘mazin’ queer dis boat got loose anyhow. Dar’s no tellin’ how t'ings does hap- n, He had now drawn himself half out of the water. What was his astonishment to see the form of a man suddenly raise up in the center of the boat, while a strong hand grasped him by the arm, with a quick, vigorous lift. ** Marse Preston !"’ ejaculated Pete, in surprise and one as he ae ee oe the oo . ‘There’s no telling how thin appen, you know,” said his captor with a grim Tatle eeehintad Pete looked nervously around him, and was on the point of screami for help, when his s h was cut short by a cho ng hand at his throat, and he was pressed helple own into the boat. “The infernal young hound, I owe hima settler!” growled the irate captor, setting his knee on the breast of the helpless boy. | And the boat glided on, under the blue sky, and the shade of overhanging trees. It was some time after this that, into the water- side camp, was borne the body of Will Wildfire, still insensible, though evidently not dead. The other boat bad been moored further up the creek, by some of those who had searched in that direction. These hed now returned, however, bring- ing the boat with tiem, and setting the mo n across the c1 eek. ” “Not as he’s dead,’ remarked Jerry. That bullet couldn't ‘a’ bored in, or the man wouldn’t shivered arterwards. But a bullet in the temple ain't to be sneezed at, cven if it’s only a touch, ’ 7 4 Age . 7 ~" “ L Vad a. Dees » * a - ‘Will Wildfire in the Woods, : “Where is Pete?" asked Harry of those who had returned before. “The Lord knows! He was gone when we got in. He and the boat. Likely enough the young hound is out on a fishing excursion.” While they bore Will into the tent, and were making efforts to resuscitate him, Jerry took the re- eee y | beat, and dropped down the creek, with in- tent to bring in the slain deer. He came back in half an hour, in company with Joe Smith, whom he had met in the woods. They brought the deer with them, and bung it up in a tree near the camp, over the snuffing noses of the impa- tient dogs. ‘“* How is it turned out?’ asked Jerry, as he pro- ceeded quietly to open the dead animal. ‘“ Hope it ain’t been a settler.” “No. He shows signs of coming to. After all, the bullet glanced on the bone, and did not enter. It was the shock that upset him.” “Don’t I know that?” answered Jerry coolly. “Got the bullet here. Dug it outer the tree beyand whar he stood.”’ He extracted it with finger and thumb from his vest-pocket, and handed it to Joe Smith. A quick —. on seemed to affect that individual on examin- ng it. Do you mean to say that the man was shot by this bullet?” he exclaimed. “Waal, it’s about that,” drawled Jerry. “And have any of ye a notion who done it?” “Yes,” replied Ben Huntly. ‘‘We fancy it was one of the gentlemen whom you led to the hunt, The one ed Mark Preston.”’ “Tl be walloped if it, wasn’t, then!’’ ejaculated the tall woodsman. ‘He had my old rifle. And if this ain’t one of the identercal bullets I poured fer it this very mornin’, then I don’t know my own pri- vate mark, that’s all.” There was a decided stir in the camp at this pos- itive announcement. ** Where is he?” asked Harry. “Not much do I know. The rest has gone back to Coalville, but he ain’t turned up. Mebbe he’s got panic-struck with the notion that he’s done murder, and made tracks from these a. “Didn’t I hear say that the t were missin’?”’ asked Jerry, as he proceeded with his task of skin- ning the deer. At this ion Harry walked quickly to the point at which the boat had been fastened. “Tt was not Pete that took it,” he announced. “The rope is not untied. It has been cut; and by a very sharp knife.” “Thought so,’ said Joe, coe “He’s been anic-struck. Been afeard that his legs wouldn’t old out in a cross-country tramp, so he’s took to the creek, ’specting to make a od lift by water.” “But where’s the boy?” asked Ben. “Off on some deviltry, I s’pose. That’s what ginerally runs in boys’ heads.” Joe Smith was not loth to accept an engagement to go down the creek in pursuit of the stolen boat. Without stopping to cavil on terms, he whistled his dog to his heels, and set off at a round pace, along the downward course of the stream. Meanwhile, Jerry continued his task of yee | and cleaning the game. He had barely finish when the form of Joe Smith stalked again into pod eeay, at the same pace with which he had eft it. “Does any of you reckernize them articles?’’ he asked, as he threw down a coat, cap, and pair of shoes, together with a hake tat D4 fishing-line.”’ “Yes,’’ was the reRy “They were Pete's. Where did you find them?” ‘***Bout a half-mile down-stream. There’s bigger deviltry afloat, yit. The boy jumped overboard, and didn’t come back for these traps. There’s some’at durned odd "bout the whole bizness.”’ ** What is to be done?’ asked Harry. Joe drew Jerry aside, and the two woodsmen stood conversing for several minutes, while the others waited the result of their deliberations. “It’s two good hours to sunset,”’ Joe at length an- nounced. “If you want to catch this hound, we mooght put in some neat work in that time.” ‘*Of course we want to catch him,” cried Pierce, who just then appeared from the tent, “and to pay him up in good coin for this murderous attempt.” ‘Your friend ain’t no wor e, is he?” asked Joe. ““No. He iscoming to. Will be all right in an hour. But what is your plan?” “Why, me and Jerry, with the dorgs, will go down-stream, and keep an eye open fur trails on both sides. Maybe he'll ’scape our ge ap our dorgs’ n bu: I’ve a notion he won’t, e same time a couple of you kin take a boat and foller him down-stream, An’ take particklar care to look into every water-hole or bu He mought hide some- where to fling us. I s’pose there’s some of ye who can handle an oar?’ “Try us,” replied Ben Huntly, with a smile at his friends. “It is likely we can handle an oar with anybody on the Carbon; or on the Schuylkill either.” “Let's be off, then. When a plan's laid, every minute spent in talk is jist wasted. Set Jerry across the creek. I'll take this side. And mind ye, when we go on a track we mean work. Ef he ain’t run down to-night, he mought be to-morrow. Jist say the word and there'll be no let up.” In five minutes more the scouting party had set out, the two woodsmen on foot, and Ben and Harry at the oars. CHAPTER XI. ' TREED. AT a point about six miles below the camping - und, on the bank of Carbon creek, the glare of @ ive itself across the stream, and on * > \ yy - uy et et ee See ee other dde of the waters. The night air is very chilly, and the four men the bright flame crowd im closely to its radiant warmth. “Don't know nothin’ better nor fire; ne water,’ remarks Jerry Prime, rubb his before the blaze as though he were w them. ‘**Or whisky,’’ chimes in Joe Smith. Harry Waters and Ben Huntly form the remaining members of the party. Squesting in Indian fashion yA sit looking into the vivid flames, while the flash of the firelight kindles up their faces, and gleams through the woodland avenues behind them. ‘*T hope our blaze won't draw wild beasts in this direction,’’ remarked H over hig , looking ‘*T suppose, though, there's nothing left shoulder. in these regions more dangerous than a or a ground squirrel.” “Think so, hey?’ drawled Jerry. “Yes. There have been too many wide-awake rifles about these mountains for the health of wii beasts.”’ ‘“ Now don't ye be goin’ away with -_ sich anys returned Jerry. ‘‘ They’re thinned out, I guv in that. But thar’s a good show of wild ground "bous these mountings, and l’ve a solid notion that a stray — catamount mought be kicked up yet.” **T hope to the stars that none of them will us a visit,’’ and Harry looked nervously behind “Oh! they aren't as thick as strawb'ries in «4 patch. The last I seen was—let me see—well, a ten years back. I were comin’ over the flank of old Cromlech—that’s the tall mounting ye moughét hs’ a off yander, to the sou’-east’ard. It were a good two o'clock in the mornin’ by the stars, Didn't no other watch in them days. Waal,I were comin’ to feel bitter lonesome, fur the night war dark an’ chilly, an’ I'd a good six mile afore ma Sudden enough I heerd a sound that jist made my blood stand still fur one minute. Can’t venture to d’scribe it. Somethin’ atween a squeal an’ a scream, It’s one of them things thar’s no words fur, bus which no old hunter ever thinks is a stray baby or a st lin’ calf. Ef ye’d ever heerd a catamount, yg wouldn't want no dictionary to reckernise his voice, sat suppose you thought it a good time to try your a?’ 3 5 ome Ben. * Yes, 'd thoughts o’ that kind. But these critters slip ‘long the ground an’ the trees at a 'mazin’ pace. And, I dunno whether it’s by smell or no, but a kin follera man like a hound follers a rabbit, come to me, then, to stand still, and wait. Besidea I took a sudden hankerin’ arter that chap’s hide.” *“And I suppose he had a wuss erin’ after your hide,”’ drawled Joe. “Well, as I war sayin’, I hadn't come ®& anchor five minutes afore I] heerd a sudden rustle in the leaves, and then I cotched sight of suthin’ b nor any hornets’ nest a-top a a bough, not fifty foot off, But thar were never no hornets’ nest lit up by lanterns like that brute’s eyes. Ther’ were some blinks o’ moonlight then, ye see, that sent me the glint of ‘em; an’ it weren't the most comfor’ble light as ever shined on me, you bet.”’ ** You had your rifle?” asked Harry. **Ef I hadn’t I'd ha’ been breakin’ my neck over stick an’ stone fur my shanty, ‘stead o’ waitin’ fur an interview. I weren't long in drawin’ a bead, nei- ther. But the whole thing had been outrageous sud- dent. I stoodjin the open, in a patch o* moonlight, an’ the critter were crouched fura jump when eyes grabbed him. He were in the air afore I co touch the trigger.”’ ‘*That was what I should call a critical situation,” remarked Ben. . ““Wuss nor fever an’ager. I jist rattled in my boots, Ishook so. But it weren't no place to loge nerve. I hed the rifle at my shoulder, and got it p’inted upward, when down come the brute. Sure as you live his breast struck squar’on the muzzk. Down I went ’s if I'd been hit by a stroke of light- nin’, an’ Ishet my eyes fur a minute, not speetin’ to see the sun ag’in. t, whether e'd b’lieve’t or no don't matter, but sure’s you set t that stroke set off the rifle. As I went down, the solid old critter spoke out in her sharp, suddent way, but it war all so mixed up with screamin’, an’ rippin’, an’ rollin’, that Fb thought an earthquake had broke its ter. Not as I hadn’t an ideer of what had took : but I crawled outer that like a cat up a back ‘fore I ventured to look. Thar was that brute a-toss- in’, an’ snarlin’, and bitin’ the ere like all pos- sessed. "Twarn’t healthy round thar jist then, I rammed another charge down the barrel quick as a flash, an’ fired at the bunch, for ye couldn't told for yer life which was head an’ which was tail. ullet hit him in a tender rem fur he straightened out jist the suddenest, an’it were all over with that painter.” It was past midnight when J had finished his panther story. e moon, which had shed a faint luster over the trees, had now sunk beneath the distant mountain line, All was deep flocs, oe cept in the narrow space lit by the cam " ‘] ac won't have any sch gen a0 ~~ aroun ere,” remar aITy, as stretched himself out, ‘“* Ain’t much fear of that,” Joe Smith, - toasting his huge feet betare the fire. “ Gueas Jerry shot the last of ‘em that time."’ | ‘* Anybody as don’t b'lieve it, jist ket‘em step to my shanty, an’ Ill show ‘em the skin,” Jerry. ‘Don't fancy m that catamount is as pouty as caterpillars. But thar’s one thing I do 1OW. Thar’s bar in the mountings yit.” Bar?’’ asked Harry, doubtfully. * Bear,” he me ‘growled Joe. “ He ain't much on eddication, ain’t Jerry.”’ “It’s allers been b’ar, ever since I could a. Jerry. ‘‘Mebbe Joe’s gettin’ inter Ebooks co