Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 184 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

» ’ ' ‘ - —_———— ee eS ——— venerable man of God, as he began the service that was fated to be ended in bloodshed and death. A strange mist before his usually keen eyes Hardy Zeph stood at the cave entrance Dark forms were stealing among the thick lying bowlders—evil eyes rivted upon his figure—but he saw them not. Nearer they crept, still unobserved, until the leader, tall and stately, handsome of face but just now looking | like a demon of vengeance, rosé up and bent his bow. The arrow was sped, but Hardy Zeph caught the motion, and swiftly dodged. Shrill yells rung out—the war-cry vf the Plain Crees! “Injuns!” shouted Hardy Zeph, rushing to warn his friends. Startled by the wild yells, the priest faltered and paused, “Go on!” sternly commanded Dainty Lance. 4 Once my wife, only death can take her from me! ro on!”’ ¢ CHAPTER XIII. FACE TO FACE. Ir was a curious and impressive scene. Pale-faced and trembling the Snow Sprite clung to the arm of her lover, almost husband, whose unoc- cupied hand was drawing and cocking a revolver. The venerable missionary was staring around in the direction from whence came those wild, diabolical ells. Hardy Zeph was standing before Dainty nee and his bride, both have armed, stern defiance upon his rugeed countenance and blazing in his eyes. The Wolf Queen had started toward the cave entrance, hastily stringing her bow. **Go on—finish your duty, father!’ sternly re- pester Dainty Lance, but even as the words left his ps he saw that the golden opportunity had passed. The wild yells rung out nearer, The rapid tramp- =, ng many feet could be heard echoing from the rocky floor of the passage. In another breath the bloodthirsty enemy would be upon them, when naught could save the day but desperate battling against the odds, ainty Lance raised the Snow Sprite in his arms as though she was an infant and darted back from ne circle of light cast by the torches and crackling re. ‘* Wait here, my darling—lie close and do not move untill come back,” he hurriedly uttered as he de- posited his terrifiel burden in a little niche where the projecting walls of rock would effectually pro- tect her person from ail flying missiles. One warm kiss upon her cold brow, then he turn- ed and rushed back to the rock chamber where the dread battle of life and death was fated to be fought. ** Shoulder to shoulder!’ he grated sternly as he placed himself beside Hardy Zeph, pistols cocked and ready for use. ‘‘ Not one must pass by. She shall never fail into their hands.”’ *“Not while I’m alive and kickin’,’’ came the prompt response. ‘* Yer the p’izen imps come!”’ With a clear, triumphant yell the leader of the assailants bounded through the narrow entrance and landed fairly within the fire-lighted chamber, stop- ping short in evident surprise at the unexpected vision which met his gaze. It was Shooting Star, chief of the Plain Crees, bold, handsome as an archangel; but a spirit as im- perious, a nature as dauntless confronted him now. “Stop! one step further and you die!” cried the Wolf Queen, her strong bow bending until the arrow Sid drawn to its barbed head. ‘‘What seek you ere?’ For an instant the stern expression of the young chief softened, and a look of wondering admiration chased the war-light from his black eyes, but it was only for the moment. He recognized the child of the Indian witch, old Kangewock—but beyond her his eyes rested upon the defiant forms of the two pale- faces, and he knew that they must be the ones of whom the mad hermit had spoken, that one of the twain must be his favored rival. His worst passions flashed up and gained the as- cendancy again, the venomous light came into his eyes once more. “You area squaw. Shooting Star does not do battle with such. Stand aside that a chief may look 2 pe the cowardly white faces who wear the sha of warriors, but who hide behind the petticoats of a squaw in fear and trembling when they hear the footsteps of a man and warrior!” “Duck your head, and Pil pug the dirty cuss through an’ through!’’ grate ardy Zeph, his **mad’”’ up. But this was not what the Wolf Queen wanted. She knew thata death-grapple could not long be averted. She loved the young chief madly, but her sympathies were all with the pale-faces. She knew that they were in bitter earnest, and that before Shooting Star could reach them, a revolver bullet would lay him low in death. It was an awkward dilemma, and she was not | ‘given much time for thought. Shooting Star strode swiftly forward, his arm ex- tended as though to brush her from his path. At the same moment her bow twanged—the arrow sped upon its mission of death, burying its length feather-deep in a broad, bronzed bosom—not that of the young chief, but of one of his followers. Then quick as thought, she leaped forward and clasped the astounded warrior in her arms, her legs inter- locked with his, her wonderful strength exerted to the utmost. | Taken wholy by surprise at this bold attack from a@ squaw, Shooting Star lost his balance and fell ee ee | efforts of her —_ faced allies. _ one of the fierce wolves leaped upon him. _ leaped to the rescue with his mighty club, one blow The Eoy Trailers, Hardy Zeph sprung to her assistance, but his aid was not needed. The Wolf Queen leaped up and grasped her bow, while a clear cry issued from her lips—the same signal that had not long since sum.- moned the pack of wolves from their den to take the trail of the fleeing Mountain Vulture. All this had transpired with the sy. pines of thought. The body of the warrior, whose heart had been cloven in twain by the Wolf Queen’s arrow, scarcely touched the rock floor ere Shooting Star was overthrown and rendered helpless. A wild yel] of fury was blended with the swiftly succeeding pistol-shots as the young trappers pe fire upon the crowd of dusky forms—and the death- grapple was begun, It was a thrilling yet horrible scene. The pencil might give some faint idea of its details; not so the en, " A score against three—thus the battle opened. A sheet of red flame seemed to hedge around both Dainty Lance and Hardy Zeph, so cy were their revolvers worked, one in each hand. Yet they were not firing aimlessly. Their blood was boiling, on fire with the terrible hatred that is born of such moments, but their nerves were steady and like tem- pered steel. Each bullet found its mark. With each report there came a death-yell, a groan, or in- voluntary cry of pain from the lips of a wounded warrior. Standing over the prostrate form of Shooting Star, the Wolf Queen nobly seconded the desperate Rapidly her bow- Sharply the feathered shafts string twanged. | hissed, carrying death at their keen points. And then, with gallant Tarkio at their head, the wolf-clan rushed through the chamber and plunged into the me/ee. It was full time. The revolvers of the young trappers were empty. The surviving Indians were pressing them bitterly. They were wounded in many places, and were rapidly growing weak from loss of blood, They had oak cage wonders. Dead and wounded red-skins ay around them in piles, forming a terribly signifl- cant barricade. Their feet slipped in pools of warm, slimy blood, Fighting with knives and clubbed pis- tols, they stood shoulder to shoulder, forced back against the wall. Another minute of such fearful work— Then came the charge of the faithful wolf-pack. Old Tarkio seized the foremost, a huge warrior whose hatchet was quivering above the head of Dainty Lance. His pointed jaws closed upon the brawny throat. His long teeth pierced the jugular veins and the hot blood gurgled down his throat as the death-doomed savage reeled and fell backward. One or two of the warriors managed to turn and flee, but the wolves were snarling and snapping at their heels, leaping upon and pang them down one by one. Human foes might have shown them pene 5 not so these hairy assailants. To fall meant eath! The death-grapple was ended, but at what a fear- ful cost! Weak and dizzy the boy trappers wiped the blood from their eyes and stared painfully around them. The rock chamber was filled with sulphurous smoke, and surrounding objects could be but in- distinctly seen. There lay the man of God, his white hair dabbled in blood. A tomahawk had almost cloven his skull in twain. Beyond was Netawaka, no longer erect. She lay like one dead, her arms over the head and face of Shooting Star, as though even in death she would protect him from harm. Near by lay a huge warrior. One hand still clutched the haft of a knife, the blade of which was buried in the bosom of his young chief—an accidental blow as he fell, slain outright. A gasping cry broke from Hardy Zeph as he noted the motionless form of the Wolf Queen. Staggering from weakness, blood streaming from a dozen wounds, he crossed over and fell by her side, sense- less or dead, Dainty Lance knew not which. A bloody blur was before his own eyes. His limbs gave way beneath him as he strove to step away from the wall. Strange forms danced before himn-—- he saw Sibyl—the mad _ hermit—the negro giant— surely he was dying! This was the wild phantas- magoria— Ha! A deep voice rung in his ears—the voice that he had last heardin bitter mockery at that dread betrothal feast—the voice of the mad hermit! A desperate effort—then he fell forward, like one dead! CHAPTER XIV. A WONDROUS REVELATION. AmonG many others, the mad hermit and Hercules, the giant negro, were out searching for the missing Snow Sprite. They were some distance away when Shooting Star discovered the refuge of the missing girl, but near enough to hear the wild yell which followed the arrow shot at Hardy Zeph. A glance 'in that direction showed them the young chief and his followers entering the cavern of the Indian witch, and divining the truth, they made all possible haste to reach the spot. The hermit entered first, only to stagger back as Hercules of which hurled the creature aside, nearly every bone in its body broken. A second and a third met a like fate, and then the others slunk away into a side passage, leaving the way clear. AT TT ae Nee eee OO eee 2 left her retreat, unable longer to endure the horrible torture of suspense. She thought not of recapture rae thought only of the youth whom she loved so early. The mad hermit started forward with a cry of strangely mingled joy and anger as the Snow Sprite entered the rock chamber, but she eluded his grasp and flung herself upon the motionless, death- like form of the young trapper. A wailing sob welled from her throat as she raised his blood-cov- ered head to her bosom, and forgetful of all else, she pressed her pale lips repeatedly to his—but alas! there came no answering pressure. Uttering an angry curse, the mad hermit grasped her and thrust the senseless form from her arms, As he did so, his eyes rested upon the form of the old priest, and a terrible change swept over his countenance, For a moment he reeled unsteadily, and with a cry of alarm, Hercules pe out his huge arms to sup- ort him. But the old man as ie ga A recovered imself and refused the proffered aid. Almost rudely he shook Sibyl and forced her eyes to meet his, uttering hoarsely: * Tell me—are you married to him?” A sobbing moan was the only response. The poor girl was nearly dead with grief and horror, “Girl, listen to me,” cried the hermit, almost savagely. ‘‘What I tell you now is the truth—l swear it by the grave of your mother! Go down upon your knees and thank Heaven that you have been spared from committing a horrible sin, for as I — yonder man—Lancelot Daintree—is your own brother /” Sibyl stared into his os wildly. Then a piercing shriek parted her lips, followed by a hollow laugh— a laugh that caused the mad hermit to tremble with an awful fear—the fear that his loved child had gone mad! | “The boy ain’t dead, boss,’ muttered Hercules, handling his blood-stained club significantly. ‘* Bes let me make shore dat he don’t make no more trouble —a little tap on de head wid dis club—”’ The hermit made no reply, but hearing Sibyl! still laughing low and vacantly, he strode out of the cave of death, followed by the mighty negro. A month crept slowly by. The rock chamber pre- sented a very different appearance from what it did when the curtain last fell upon it. Before the fire are gathered four forms well known to the reader, each one bearing traces of that fearful death-grapple. Dainty Lance, Hard ‘ae a the Wolf Queen and the young chief, Shoo ng Star. he latter had just come in and was making his report, ‘I followed their trail far to the south. They pees a big wagon train. They did not see me, but entered their camp and learned what you wanted to know. The train.is bound for California, to the gold mines.”’ ** She was well?” hoarsely demanded Dainty Lance, ** You saw her?’’ - ‘“Yes, She seemed well, but her face was white as om and her voice sounded like one whose heart is ead.”’ ‘* To-morrow we set out for California, Zeph. She is my wife—only death can keep us apart!” stern! said Dainty Lance, his eyes filled with a steely light, And on the morrow the pee came. More eyes than one were moistened, The Wolf Queen had — nursed them back from the very jaws of death. In doing so she won her reward. ooting Star thought no more of the Snow Sprite, for he had found one far more fitted to keep his lodge warm. ‘*It was too much happiness for me—I see that now,” said Hardy Zeph, huskily, his eyes dimmed. ‘*May you live long an’ be pappy —good-by!’’ And then he turned and hastened after his heart brother, .- i THE END. THE STANDARD | DIME DIALOGUES AND SPEAKERS FOR SCHOOL EXHIBITIONS AND HOME ENTER TAINMENTS. Dialogues, Nos. 1 to 27 inclusive, 15 to % popu- lar dialogues and dramas in each book. Each vol- ume 100 12mo pages. Speakers, Nos. 1 to 23 inclusive. Each speaker 100 pages 12mo, containing from 50 to 75 pieces. YOUNG PEOPLE'S SERIES, Dime Book of Skating and Winter Sports. Dime Gents’ Letter Writer. Dime Book of Etiquette. Dime Book of Verses. Dime Book of Dreams. Dime Fortune Teller, Dime Ladies’ Letter Writer. Dime Lovers’ Casket, Dime Ball-Room Companion. Dime Book of 100 Games, Dime Chess Instructor. Dime Book of Beauty. It was no illusion, but really the voice of the mad hermit that rung in the ears of Dainty Lance—a muscles relaxed and a gasping groan parted his | cry of wondering horror, followed by the name of Hps. For the time being he was altogether out of , the Snow Sprite. : the ficht. Sibyl heard the voice. also. but she had already backward, his unprotected head striking with terri- ble force against the side wall as he toppled over. j=" The above books are sold by news-dealers everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid, to any ad- , on receipt of Ra, ten cents each. BEADLE & Apams, Publishers, 98 William hy Se Apnea sa et ‘S.COl eee ee ______ (E| @ (ojo) com