Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 18 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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12 Beadle,s Half-Dime Library. has happened to you, and by what happy chance you are stiM alive.” I satisfied his curiosity, and the following day, having ac- companied me to the hill, he was with great yoy convinced of the truth of my history. e loaded the elephant on which we had come with as many teeth as he could carry, and when we returned he thus addressed me: “ Brother—for I will no longer treat you as a slave, after the discovery you have impart- ed to me, and which cannot fail to enrich me —may God pour on you all sorts of blessings and prosperity! Before Him I give you your liberty. I had concealed from you what I am now going to relate. The ele- phants of our forest destroy annually an in- finite number of slaves, whom we send in search of ivory. Whatever advice we give them, they are sure, sooner or later, to lose their lives by the wiles of these animals. God has delivered you from their fury, and has conferred this mercy on you alone. It is a sign that He cherishes you, and that He wants you in the world to be of use to man- kind. You have procured me a surprising advantage: we have not hitherto been able to get ivory without risking the lives of our slaves, and now our whole city will be en- riched by your means. Do not suppose that I think [ have sufficiently recompensed you by giving you your liberty; I intend to add to it considerable presents. I might engage the whole city to join and make your fortune: but that is an hcnor I will enjoy alone.” To this obliging discourse I answered, “Master, God preserve you. The Jiberty you grant me acquits you of all obligation toward me, and the only recompense I de- sire for the service I have had the good for- tune to procure for you and the inhabitants of your city is permission to return to my country.” ‘ Well,” resumed he, “‘ the mon- soon will soon bring us vessels, which come to be laden with ivory ; I will send youaway with a sufficiency to pay your expenses home.” I again thanked him for the liberty he had given me and for the goodwill he showed me. I remained with him till the season for the monsoon, during which we made frequent excursions to the hill, and filled his magazines with ivory. All the other merchants in the city did the same, for it did not long remain a secret. The ships at length arrived, and my mas- ter having chosen that in which I was to embark, loaded it with ivory, half of which was on my own account. He did not omit an abundance of provisions for my voyage, and he obliged me to accept some rare curi- osities of that country besides. After I had thanked him as much as possible for all the obligations he had conferred on me, I em- barked. We set sail, and as the adventure which had procured me liberty was very ex- traordinary, it was always on my mind. We touched at several islands to procure refreshments. Our vessel having sailed from a port of the Indian Terra Firma, we went there to land; and, fearful of the dangers of the sea to Balsora, I landed the ivory which belonged to me, and resolved to continue my journey by land> I sold my share of the car- go for a large sum of money, and purchased a variety of curious things fur presents. When I was equipped, I joined a caravan of merchants, I remained a long time on the road, and suffered a great deal; but I bore all with patience when I reflected that I had neither tempests nor corsairs, serpents, nor any Other peril that I had before encounter- ed, to fear. All these fatigues being at last concluded, I arrived happily at Bagdad. I went imme- diately and presented myself to the caliph, and gave him an account of my embassy. This prince told me that my long absence had occasioned him some uneasiness, but that he had always hoped that God would not forsake me. When I related the adventure of the ele- phants he appeared much surprised, and _ would scarcely have believed it had not my sincerity been well known. to him. He thought this, as well as the other histories I bad. .detailed to him, so curious, that he or- dered one of his secretaries to write it in let- ters of gold, to be preserved in his treasury. I retired well satisfied with the presents and honors he conferred on me, and have since resigned myself entirely to my family, my re- lations, and friends. Sindbad thus concluded the recital of his seventh and last voyage; and addressing him- self to Hindbad, ‘‘ Well, my friend,” added he, ‘have you ever heard of one who has suffered more than I have, or been in somany trying situations? Isit not just that, after so many troubles, I should enjoy an agree- able and quiet life?” Ashe finished these words, Hindbad APPEn RES him, kissed his hand, and said, “I must confess, sir, that you have encountered frightful perils: my afflic- tions are not to be compared with yours. If I feel them heavily at the time I suffer them, I console myself with the small profit which they produce. You not only deserve a quiet life, but are womny of all the riches you pos- sess, since you make so good a use of them, and are so generous. May you continue to live happily till the hour of your death.” Sindbad ordered him to have another hun- dred sequins; he admitted him to his friend- ship, told him to quit the profession of a porter, and to.continue to eat at his table, for that he should all his life have reason to re- member Sindbad the Sailor. THE END. Dick Darling, THE PONY-EXPRESS RIDER. BY LAUNCE POYNTZ, CHAPTER IL. ‘“Marse Dr0K, I tells you dat dis yer won’t do. Hyar we is all alone in the perarer; and ef dem painted debbles comes arter us, whar is we? Why nowhar.” And Tom Nelson rolled the whites of his eyes in all directions, as if he expected to see the prairie alive with enemies. Dick Darling laughed. He was a young fel- low between twenty and thirty years of age, and he had known and escaped so many dan- gers that he had become somewhat reckless, Dick had been one of the first, in fact the very first man that ever rode on the Overland Pony Express, years before the Pacific Railroad was thought of. In those early days he had tra- versed mountain and plain so often, with pack- ages worth millions, with no defense save his own arms, that he had grown to think that he a charmed life. He was now travel- ing on the borders of Oregon, looking for a lo- cation to settle on, within a few miles of the Klamath and Modoc reservations, and with a secret. object in his mind, which will develop itself in due time. “Never mind, Tom,” he said, carelessly, ‘‘The Indians round here are all quiet on their reservations, and I wouldn’t care if we were to meet a whole tribe. I came here to pre-empt a claim, and I’m going to do it, spite of all the Klamaths in Oregon. If they come after us, we can run. If we want to find them, we al- ways have Hector, and he’s a better trailer than any brave on the plains.” “Yas, Marse Dick,” said the negro, dubious- ly; ‘‘but how is I to run wid dis ole mule? He’s jes’ as slow as he can be, and Hector—” The conference was broken off by a low, un- easy whine from a large hound which was lop- ing along close to the riders, and Tom exclaim- ed: “Dar, didn’t I tole you so, Marse Dick? Tom’s a gone nigger dis bressed day. Dem’s Injuns! .I knows Hector’s ways like a book.” Dick Darling swung his rifle round from his back and caught it under his right arm before he answered. Then he quietly observed: “Your’re right, Tom; they’re Indians. Turn your mule and ride slowly toward Fairfield’s ranche. J’ll take care of you. Tell Miss Char- lotte—I mean, tell tho Fairfields that I shall be there by sunset, unless I lose my hair, which I don’t think likely. Don’t hurry, for they can’t catch you. Keep a steady trot and you’ll tire the ponies out, if you have a good start. Take Hector with you.” He had hardly finished speaking when over a swell of the prairie rode a plumed Indian, in full war costume, followed by at least a dozen warriors. As soon as the latter saw the two riders they halted, and took a long, silent stare. For the first time Dick Darling looked grave; his keen and practiced eye recognized them as Modoc braves; and in spite of rumors of peace, they were all in their war-paint. ‘‘ Away, Tom, and God speed you,” was the young man’s exhortation, Then setting spurs to his horse, he galloped straight toward the war-party, while the negro, his face turning a dirty gray with fear, and his eyes rolling wild- ly, trotted away tothe south-west, followed by the dog, the obstinate old mule keeping the same pace, and shaking his ears with a grunt at every new dig of Tom’s heels. The darky was by no means a novice in prai- rie lore. With a good horse under him and a rifle, he would not have hesitated to face the same enemy that his race so heartily detests. As it was, he had fallen in with his old friend Marse Dick when he was wandering about the settled portions of California, totally unarmed, and mounted on an old mule on which he had been peddling tinware to the farmers. The two had traveled on out of the bounds of civiliza- tion, Tom growing more uneasy every day, but ashamed to desert his comrade, till they came to the Klamath reservation, as we have de- scribed. Now Tom rode off steadily to the south-west, and speedily reached a swell of land which would hide him from the pursuit of those “painted debbles,” as he called them. Just as hte crossed the swell he heard a rifle-shot and he looked back. Dick Darling, one against a dozen, was gal- loping off at a right-angle to his own course, pursued by all the Modocs, with loud yells, ‘‘ Didn’t I tole you so, Marse Dick?’ mutter- ed the darky, regretfully, as he plunged into the next bottom. ‘I’se gwine to Fairfield’s to guv you’ message, but, gorramighty, ’tain’t no use talking. Dem’ll nebber see you agen, no- how. You is smart, but Cappen Jack is smarter.” The negro pursued his way with caution and experience, keeping between the swells, follow- ed by the dog, and never exposing his person at the top of any eminence however slight. He kept toward the south-west, where, he was aware, was situated the ranche of Fairfield, the Indian trader, whose affiliations with all the tribes were such that his goods were never harmed in any war. It was toward this place that Darling had recommended him to go. Whether he would reach it alive was a moot point still. Hecould not hope to do it by speed. It all depended on whether any of the Modocs followed himself or not. He pressed on, ever and anon listen- ing intently for the sound of pursuers. But none came and the hound gave no more tokens of uneasiness. Tom pursued his way in peace; and about four in the afternoon uttered a cry of joy. Fairfield’s ranche, a small, neat dwell- ing in the midst of a stockade of great strength, stood before him, as he turned the corner of a swell of land. The happy darky pounded vigorously at the sides of his mule, and suc- ceeded in persuading the animal into a luuiber- ing gallop, at which pace he clattered up to the gate of the stockade, yelling: “ Marse Fairfield, save yourself. De Injuns is up, and dem’s done gone scalp Marse Dick Darling, and he sends de news dat he comin’ hyar at sunset if he hab any har leff. Oh, gorramighty, ain’t we jist had de big fight wid dem Modocs!” Comicboo “S (EO)