Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 188 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

- ee et ee et 7. a —— 2 Oe | —™ a tho . “. : —_ ye ee ‘ v -_ ——— This man was the Ben Simon whom the cav- ec! officer wanted watched. _The glance of Simon and the sergeant met for aninstant. On Simon’s part it was so threaten- ing that the soldier trembled. The scout’s eyes seemed to say, “‘ tell the truth, if you dare.” _ “ You will not tell me what Hardinge was do- ing when you last saw him?” said the soldier, bringing the sergeant back to the fact that he was under the eyes of bis superiors. **T need not conceal his actions from you. He was writing a letter,” was the reply. ‘‘ A very harmless amusement,” laughed Col- onel Armstrong. ‘‘Captain, I guess you are willing to drop the witness. He does not seem oth burdened with any startling testimony, and—” “Pardon me, colonel; at four o’clock yester- day Hardinge was not writing a letter as that witness, as well as other parties in camp, well know.” ‘* You do not accuse the sergeant?’ “Idol I accuse him of willful lying in the presence of his superior officers,” said the cav- ‘alry captain. The sergeant’s eyes seemed to flash, and again they sought out Ben Simon the scout, on whose rugged features sat a scowl as black as night. ‘You must not be so hasty in your accusa- tions,” Colonel Armstrong said, rebukingly, to the young captain. ‘‘ Unless you are ahs to prove that Hardinge was not engaged in letter- writing at four Pp. M. yesterday, | cannot listen to your charge.” ‘‘Il can and will prove it,” was the quick an- swer. ‘‘l amone of the few who say that Thorn- ton Hardinge is a deserter, and there is one man in camp who, if he jcould be induced to tell the truth, would not hesitate to sustain me in the belief.” ‘To whom do you refer?’ ‘*T do not like to place him on the witness stand, and besides, we could not, as he is not an enlisted man.” ‘*Oh! one of the scouts!” cried the colonel. ** Bring them here.” The next instant Ben Simon disappeared; gliding away like a serpent, he soon passed be- ond the light of the fire, and when he found iimself safe he turned toward the improvised court of inquiry. ‘*Of course Thornton Hardinge has deserted, but you won’t catch me blabbing it,” he hissed. ** You did well not to mention my name, Major Beverly, and if Sergeant Knight doesn’t pay you for the epithet you saw fit to bestow upon him, then he ought to be eaten by crows. He was about to move away when a soldier appeared in sight. ** Hallo, Simon! You’re the very man I’m looking for. The colonel wants the inde- pendent scouts before him at once,” said the soldier. “* He does, eh?” flashed Ben Simon. ‘* Such are his orders.” “I might as well face him,” thought the scout, *‘ but I guess | can keep my own counsel,” and the next minute he was tramping back to the camp-fire he had just deserted. His reappearance caused a slight commotion among several officers, and Major Beverly's eyes seemed to glow with triumph. ‘Yonder is the man who knows all—Ben Simon,” whispered Beverly tothe colonel, ‘ PJ warrant you that he saw Hardinge last of all.” Colonel Armstrong wheeled upon the scout and folded his arms on his breast with officer- like precision. “Simon,” he said, brusquely, “where is Captain Hardinge, of the —-th cavalry?” » Dead, mebbe,” was the answer. We want civil answers; no witticisms,” suapped Armstrong. ‘‘ Where is he? You know, they say.” Ben Simon’s face ew dark again, and thro ving a malicious glance at Major Beverly, who was eying him. closely, he stepped for- ward, ‘A lie won’t mend matters now,” he said, ‘‘and, as the cap’n is out of harm’s way, I might as well tell the truth. He’s taken a bit of French leave.” ‘* Deserte 1 the command?” ‘You may call it that if you want to.” ‘Whither hes he gone?” ‘*Nortb’ard, 1 suspect.” “You are certain of this, Simon?’ -“*T am, colonel; but I didn’t like to tell on ve because me an’ him hev been kind o’ friend- - “OF course; we appreciate that; Captain Hardinge a deserter? What led him to this course | ne = ee ee ee SC ee eee eee OO eee eee ee ee eS ee _ + a a LR me me ae ee -_C™”O tl ti tt tt 4 Ned Temple, the Border Boy. ee ee err woe — —_—<<$— + — —_ —-+ -—--- ae 6 ee ee ow a ee se ng a private matter, [ guess,” the scout said. ‘*'We must post him. By George! every fort shall hear of bis cowardly deed, and when he falls into my hands [ll make a sieve out of him. To-morrow, major,” to Beverly, ‘* we’ll prepare our handbilis, und I wiil send you back to Buford. Simon, you will accompany Major Beverly to Fort Buford to-morrow.’ ‘‘To-morrorv? If we are to get ahead of Cap’n Hardinge, I think we had better start to- night,” ventured the scout. Armstrong glanced at his watch. “I will see about it. Come back here at ten o’clock, two hours hence.” Ben Simon withdrew, and the court of in- quiry was broken up. Enough had been learned. Thornton Har- dinge was a deserter; but the colonel did not suspect the depth of his treachery. Hardinge had never been an army favorite, although as brave as a lion; he had too much of the bar- recom bully about bim, and, besides, he was scheming and full of low cunning. He had served on the plains for ten years, and during that time bad made many unenvia- ble acquaintances. Scouts had reported that he seemed to be well known to Sitting Bull, and Red Cloud, each of whom had praised bis gal- lantry in the last Indian war. But that he should desert the service and turn his back upon the little column struggling to Fort Fetterman, Colonel Armstrong coul ly believe. About two hours after the examination of Ben Simon, the scout, by Armstrong, four ap- parent scouts, well mounted, on fleet horses left the camp, and turned their faces toward the far-away forks of Powder river. One was easily distinguished as Simon, and his com- panions looked as much the independent ranger as he. But they were not all scouts. The shapely ficure at Simon’s right was Major Beverly, who had been commissioned to carry to Fort Buford and other Government posts at the north, a number of bandbills offering a reward for Hardinge’s arrest. From a short distance the quartette would have been mistaken for Indians, and as _ they dashed up the trail which, although they knew it not, was destined to be one of wild adven- ture and death, they mimicked thew arrior well. Ben Simon cast many a wicked glance at the man who rode beside him. ‘‘ Major Beverly, you're a blarsted fool!” he said, to himself. ‘‘I wonder if you expect to live to report to Colorel Armstrong. You want to find Cap’n Hardinge, eh? Wal, you shall hey thet honor, but curse my boots if yowll ever live to tell of the meetin’ at the camp-fire of the —th cavalry. Old Ben Simon are at yer heels—the man what you’ve insulted, and he’s goin’ to see yer scalp stretchin’ on an Injun hoop!” A hideous smile wreathed the scout’s face as he spoke, for, like many of his class, Ben Simon was more Indian than white man. And Major Beverly, the favorite officer of one of the crack regiments of the service, was galloping into Red Cloud’s country, with such a viper at his elbow. Do not sleep for a minute, gallant major, if you want to report in person to Colonel Arm- strong beneath the stars and stripes of Fort Fetterman. CHAPTER IV. CYRILLE ENCOUNTERS A MONSTER. As tbere was no road along’ the river, Sam Wildcat had to take the Fetterman trail. His horse was a fleet, strong-limbed animal, not used to carrying two persons; but able to perform the feat. An Indian yell behind him soon announced that the sounds of his flight had reached the ears of the foe, and he speedily knew that the red Arabs of the plains were thundering at bis heels. “This ar’ no scrub race, my blossom,” he re- marked, as he looked into Cyrille’s face, as she, ear 3 as it were, that she was a captive, to bi clun m with all the grasp she could com- mand, ‘“‘Mebbe we kin both git away, an’ mebbe wecan’t. Old Lightnin’ ar’ the boss hoss ov these parts, an’ he’ll do bis best; you kin bet yer bottom dollar on thet, gal. But ef both ov us can’t git away, one kin, I know.” What did he mean? Would he abandon her to the mercy of the Indians and save himself? F ‘‘ He is quite likely to do so,” thought Cyrille. ae e would save himself and leave me to per- } d hard- | The thought had hardly been uttered by her lips when Sam Wildcat drew rein and halted | his foam-covered horse. | ‘Tt ar’ no use,” he said. | carryin’ more nor his quota. only one from this out.” | Cyrille’s heart sunk wi‘ hin her. | The Injuns must take care ov you fur a | while,” continued Sam. ‘ Never mind; they’ll | not harm a hair ov your head, Rosebud. Why, | afore a week, one-half ov the young bucks will | be makin’ love to you, but Til skirmish around | an’ git back in time to spile a few ov their ar- | rangements.” | He was lifting her from the horse, and he | placed her gently on the ground. | Tl] come back fur you an’ [ll find you, | too,” | **T hope not,” said Cyrille. | suspected a second abandonment. May your | horse stumble soon, and, falling on you, hold | | ‘* Lightnin’ hez been e must carry “1 have all along you fast for the tomahawks of the Sioux.” ‘‘Now that would be outrageous,” said the Indian-killer, with a grin. ‘‘I couldn’t git to take my reg’lar dose—two Injuns a day—any more. What! Old Lightnin’ stumble! You don’t know the critter. Good-by, Rosebud.” | Cyrille saw the horse dash forward once | more, but this time he did not carry her. | No! She stood alone on that lonely trail with the noise of approaching hoofs ringing in | her ears. | The Indians were coming! | “Flight would not save me,” she said, “and Red Cloud may not be the merciless red fiend that heis called. If my uncle is his captive, we will share each other’s trials. I cannot believe that he isa traitor—that he left me to pcrish here in Sioux land.” The next minute a quartet of Indians ut- tered cries of wonder at the apparition of a young girl on the trail, and recoiled so sudden] that they forced their steeds back on their haunches. ‘‘ Where white man?” they demanded, recov- ering. Cyrille pointed down the trail. The Sioux looked and listened. Sam Wildcat had passed out of sight, and the sound of his horse’s hoofs no longer came back to the red- men. When the Indians leaped to the ground Cyrille was instantly surrounded. | ‘She had seen Indians before, but for the first time she stood in their presence, a captive. ‘‘Girl purty,” said one, a young buck, ‘‘ Hands white as snow, and eyes like the stars. The ‘oung bucks of the village will have to fight for er, Her make wigwam smile all the time.” ‘‘T may prove an evil spirit to you all,” Cyrille said, seeing that the young Indians ex- hibited no resentment. ‘‘Where is your chief?’ ‘*Red Cloud? We take girl back to him an’ let white hanter go.” ‘‘ Yes, 1 want to see Red Cloud.” Cyrille was lifted upon one of the horses, and the band was soon galloping back to join Red Cloud. ‘‘Now I will see Thornton Hardinge, and solve the mystery that clings to his presence here,” she thought. “If he hates me, I will dis- cover all.” The ride back was uneventful te Cyrille. The moon went down. but they still kept on. When near the ruins of Fort Reno the Indians left the trail and struck northward. Daylight found them riding slowly down a little valley whose moufttainous surroundings were wild and grotesque. ‘‘You are not taking me to Red Cloud,” Cyrille suddenly exclaimed. ‘“ You have de- ceived me.” ‘‘Red Cloud away over yonder,” one of the Sioux said pointing over the mountains. “ In- dians brought girl bere to fight for her. She can’t be squaw to all.” In the middle of the valley the four Indians sprung from their horses which they turned off to graze on the rich grass that abounded on every side, and unslung the long bows that they earried on their backs. Now that daylight had fairly returned, poor Cyrille had a fair opportunity of seeing her cap- tors. They were strong young feilows, rich in mus- cle and good Indian jooks, and the scanty gar- ments that they wore proved them veritable athletes to the girl. . After a short parley in the Sioux tongue, the braves separated in pairs and walking away ‘turned and faced one another with twenty ' yards between them. ‘ . '” Cyrille saw them fit the feathered barbs to Ecomicbooks os . - a if —— —_ —_ -—A.. mess (Ele) m ‘ * -_-— =~ —