Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 184 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

2 Dainty Lance on the War-path. BY JOS. E. BADGER, JR., AUTHOR OF ‘“‘DEADLY DASH,” ‘‘ THE RLACK GIANT,” “‘ PANTHER PAUL,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. A FOREST AMAZON. ‘*KiveR—thar’s some o’ the p’izen imps ahead!” These words were uttered in a warning whis- per, without the speaker’s turning his head to- ward his solitary companion. At the same mo- ment both of the young men crouched low down amid the gray rocks, grasping their rifles, and listening intently for the outcry that would naturally announce their discovery. But none such came. Faint sounds could be heard coming from the little valley below and beyond them, but as the moments passed by without these growing louder or more distinct, the young trailer began to believe that they had taken cover in time to avoid a discovery. With a warning flutter of one hand behind him, the youth who had spoken cautiously moved forward until he could peer out upon the valley through a chink between two rough bowlders. A moment he remained thus, eager- ly ong in the strange scene below, then turned his head and motioned his comrade to advance. ‘‘un alive!” he muttered, with a subdued chuckle. ‘‘A hull circus, all to ourown selves!” His curiosity fully aroused, the taller of the two trailers pressed forward to the loop-hole, while his comrade sought out another. And truly it was a remarkable scene they were peer- ge, ale upon. ot more than two hundred yards from the pile of rocks where they lay concealed, a noble specimen of humanity was boldly meeting tho vigorous assault of four huge wolves, with only the weapons that nature provided, Now singly in swift succession the ferocious- looking animals would leap forward, only to be presped in mid-air by the forest athlete and urled aside like so many kittens; now making the attack in concert, growling, snarling, clash- ing their long teeth together, a hairy circle closing in upon the Indian, whose destruction appeared inevitable. But as often were they foiled. With motions so swift that the eye could hardly follow them, the red gladiator scattered the huge beasts; with a strength that seemed supernatural, they were grasped and hurled far aside, clashing their teeth and howl- ing as in baffled fury. ‘Injun or not, ain’t he a two-legged beauty, Lance? An’ don’t he han’le them pesky crit- ters han’some?” **And fighting them bare-handed, too! I’m afraid they’ll prove too much for him, unless we—” _ “Which we won’t nur cain’t do,” doggedly interposed the other, whom the reader may have recoguized as Hardy Zepb. ‘ ’Tain’t only our own skcipe then’: the little gal Sibyl—an’ ef the p’izen critters once git wind o’ our bein’ a these parts, good-by to all chaince o’ helpin’ er! To those who may have followed the fortunes of our boy-heroes, through the preceding noveis of the “ Dainty Lance” series, the present situation requires little explanation, but for the benefit of new patrons of the LIBRARY, a brief retrospection at this poiut will not come amiss. While engagedin trapping, Dainty Lance and Hardy Zeph became involved in a strange series of adventures, with the Mountain Vultures, a band of renegade trappers, under command of Dirk Weeninx and Ham Toplong; a mysterious recluse, the mad hermit, bis daughter Sibyl, and a gigantic negro called Hercules. As an almost natural consequence, Dainty Lance and Sibyl fell in love with each other. The hermit appeared to consent to their be- trothal, but treacherously drugged the young trappers, and fled with Sibyl and Hercules. On recovering from what was intended to be a death stupor, the boys found an unfinished note, written by Sibyl, that gave them the needed clew. She believed her father contem- plated a retreat to the village of an Indian chief who was his friend, among the Plain Crees. Here the note abruptly ended, but Dainty Lance and Hardy Zeph at once acted upon the partic! informa’‘ion, though they lost much’ time /, in their vague search; so much that it was now early spring, and yet they had learned nothing definite of the missing maiden. She might be close at haud, or might be hun- dreds of miles away; but one thing was certain: they were in the haunts of a bold, cruel, fero- cious enemy, discovery by whom would mean imminent peril, if not death. Yet this knowledge would not have prevented the two young men from hastening to the aid of the unarmed Indian, had only their own lives been at stake. But to do so, would seriously en- danger their chances of rescuing Sibyl, and with painfully strong emotions, they watched ee strange drama in the little allay below them. Minute after minute passed, and still the In- dian fought back the snarling beasts, hurling them aside with apparent ease and untiring muscles. And with the passage of each minute, the interest of the hidden spectators increased. ‘‘Tt’s durned queer!” muttered Hardy Zeph, scratching his head, with an air of perplexity creeping over his strongly marked features. ‘‘That eritter must be a iron man, or else them wolves hev got falso teeth that they’re afeared 0’ spilin’. They hain’t drawed blood yit, so fur as 1 kin see—” ‘¢ And look at those wolves—each one of a dif- ferent species—who ever saw them all hunt in company before?’ uttered Dainty Lance, no less excited. The leader and largest of the wolves, at that distauce looked jet black. It stood more than three feet high, and would measure over seven feet from tip to tip. Buta trifle smaller was the second, a white wolf. The third was the common gray mountain-wolf, the fourth and last being that rare animal, a spotted wolf. Its body and sides were of a light brown color, in- termingled with irregular spots of a darker shade. The habitual haunts of these animals are widelv separated, and to see them here, uniting in their assaults upon the athlete, doubled the wonder of the young trailers. ‘‘Looks like a menadgery hed bu’sted up here, an’ that thar is the king o’ the beasts, taimn’ his show-critters!” ‘¢ Great Scott! look at that—a woman!” The words broke from the lips of Dainty Lance in a tone louder than was prudent, but the discovery that called them forth was enough to excuse this. Until now, the athlete had stood with back toward the curious spectators. The long, straight black hair, encircled by a fillet of feathers; the tunic of buckskin, ornamented with fringes, beads and silk embroidery; the leggings and moccasins of the same material, added to the bronzed neck and bare arms, pro- claiming the Indian, naturally led the trailers to believe the athlete a man, and one, too, of more than ordinary hight. But now, asa fierce at- tack of the wolves caused the athlete to turn half-way round, the full, swelling bust of a wo- man was clearly outlined against the gray rocks of the ledge beyond! Both of the lads believed that incautious ex- clamation had been overheard, for the strange woman raised her right hand, the four wolves crouching down before her like so many play- ful cats. She glanced keenly around, and then her gaze seemed to settle upon the very rocks behind which the pale-faces crouched. _ Fearful, not for themselves, but for Sibyl, the young trailers lay still as death, watching the orest amazon, rapidly reflecting what course they should pursue. But, fortunately, perhaps, they were not put to the test. The woman dis- covered nothing to confirm ker suspicions, and as her admirably trained wolves made no sign, she clearly believed herself mistaken. At a motion of her hand, the wolves resumed their antics, though with a difference. _Guided alone by her gestures, they performed an in- finity of maneuvers as graceful as curious, the young trailers watching the strange scene with deep interest. But there was a difference with them, too, especially Hardy Zeph. Hiseyes were riveted upon the Wolf Queen, a burning light in them that spoke stronger than words, Like most unlearned persons, he was more powerfully at- tracted by physical than mental superiority, and the superb development of the Wolf Queen was swiftly taking him captive. Even at that distance Zeph could see that she was of uncommon beauty for an Indian, and as he beheld her face more clearly, he began to believe that there was white blood flowing in her veins. : A low, warning hiss from the lips of Dainty Lance checked his further scrutiny, and turn- ‘ ee 8 a ing his head, he saw an anxious shade crossing the face of his chum. ‘“‘TLook down the valley!” he muttered in a guarded tone. ‘ There’s mischief brewing— and the sooner we skin out of this, the better for our scalps!” Keen-eyed Zeph quickly discovered a num- ber of footmen cautiously stealing up the val- ley, keeping their advance covered as much as pos.ible by taking advantage of the thickly scattered rocks and stunted evergreens. It was only the elevation of the scouts’ cover that en- abled Dainty Lance to discover their approach. ‘“’Tain’t fer us—they’re goin’ fer the gal yen- der. Four reds an’ three whites—we kin lick ’em with her help!” “You forget Sibyl—to do anything, we must keep our presence here concealed from every- peri ‘You kin go, ef you like,” and there was a sullen earnestness in the words such as Zeph had never before shown toward his heart brother. ‘They mean mischief to that gal- critter, an’ I’m goin’ to help her all 1 know how.” Dainty Lance knew that remonstrance would be useless. When once set in bis notion, Zeph was as stubborn as a mule, He would not desert his comrade, but with a few hurried words made him promise not to in- terfere unless their aid was eign neces- sary, for Sibyl’s sake. And then, with ready rifles, they waited and watched. Unluckily for the plans of the oncreeping foe, the faint breeze blew directly up the valley, and the keen-nosed wolves began to betray un- easiness long before the enemy were within rifle range. Their actions warned the Wolf Queen, and leaping upon a point of rocks, she gazed keenly down the valley. ; Only a moment thus. She caught sight of the enemy, who discovered the fact at the same moment, and abandoning any further attempt at concealment, they charged up the valley with wild yells and hoarse shouts. The Wolf Queen turned to her trained ani- mals, and spoke to them sharply, waving her hand toward the north. With long, mournful howls, they sped away in the indicated direction, swiftly vanishing among the rocks. The Wolf Queen caught up a long bow and well-filled quiver of arrows that lay near, hav- ing evidently been discarded to leave her move- ments untrammeled while playing with her fierce pets, but she gave no token of an inten- tion to seek safety in flight. Instead, she nimbly mounted to a ledge of rocks some ten feet above the level of the valley, kneelin behind a long bowlder and rapidly stringing her bow. Rapid as were her motions, the enemy were within a hundred yards ere the bow was strung, but their advance was abruptly checked as she arose from behind the rocky barricade, an ar- row fitted to the string and threatening them as she uttered a few sharp words in the Plain Cree tongue. ; The answer came promptly, in the English tongue from the leading pale-face. ‘We mean you no harm, Netawaka, and only wish to ask you a few questions,” ‘‘ Ask them from where you stand, White Wolf,” came the clear reply, in the same lan- guage, ‘Your lungs are sound, and my hear- ing keen. Back! move another step forward and this arrow shall split your false heart!” As the white man spoke, the young trailers started and looked at each other with dilating eyes, for the voice was that of oné whom they had believed dead—whom they had left helpless, bound hand and foot to perish in a terrible snow-storm—the voice of Dirk Weeninx! . ‘It’s either him or the devil—ef it ain’t his ghost!” muttered Zeph, his superstition awak- ened, paling his cheek. ; “That is a living man, and if really Dirk Weeninx, then we are on the right trail!” uttered Dainty Lance, his blue eyes glowing vividly. ‘If it comes to burning powder, spare his life, He may know where Sibyl is. If only we can take him prisoner!” “8 ‘‘'The two on ’em’s thar—ghosts or live men: Yender’s Ham Toplong—I kin make out his wolf-face.” During this hurried interchange of words, Dirk Weeninx—for it was indeed the chief of the Mountain Vultures, alive and in the flesh— was apparently consulting with his comrades, who seemed unwilling to rush upon the almost certain death that threatened at least one of their number, in the steel-barbed arrow held by the Wolf Queen. And as Dirk Weeninx turned once mors toward the beautiful Ama- zon, his followers dropped down behind the ad- jacent bowlders. Eomichbooks = (7 — ep - a | ” ——