Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 188 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

— - “You were with the young bucks plotting against me, an hour ago,” he said, recovering. ‘* That’s a lie, cap’n,’ ‘* Ask that girl.” ‘*Not now. Ar’ you goin’ to stand hyar an’ die? I war buntin’ you to save you. don’t care fur this camp, so I kin git outen it with | the sunflower ov my heart. do as you please.” ‘* I’m going, too,” was the response. Stargold threw her arms around the scout’s neck as he sprung away. She believed that he was going to carry her back to her own people and to safety. Hardinge followed the scout, and not a word was uttered until the edge of the camp was reached. V’m goin’, cap’n; Then it was that Hardinge uttered a cry, for’ he had fallen over a figure that lay at the door of one of the lodges. ‘**A dead Injun!” ejaculated Simon, stooping over the body for a moment. “ The Terror has been hyar, an’ thet lately; the red-skin is hardly cold.” ‘“‘ How do you know?” asked Hardinge. “There’s a figger four on the Injun’s fore- head, an’ the right ear is missin’—the demon’s marks! Jest think ov it, cap’n; the Crows an’ the Terror on the same night!” ** I'd like to see this secret slayer.” ‘** Mebbe you will; but we can’t hunt ’im up now,” was the answer. ‘ Over thar ar’ the mountains.” The scout turned to fly forward again, but the whiz of an Indian arrow cleft the air and he dropped Stargold as he sprung back. The next moment the night resounded with wild yells, and the discharge of fire-arms as- sailed the ear. The Crows had fallen upon the Sioux camp! ‘*’m goin’ back an’ help the Sioux,” cried Ben Simon. ‘ This ar’ aCrow shaft. Look at the point an’ the featherin’,” and he held be- fore Hardinge the arrow which he had drawn from the body of the Indian girl. ‘Pll pay ‘em fur the shot! Go an’ save yerself, cap’n. Yer day hezn’t come yet. Ben Simon’s hez.” The scout leaped toward the battle, and Har- dinge and the stricken girl were alone. ‘* Hold a minute,” said a voice, as he was about to fly. ‘‘I want to ask a question before I go over thar to take my reg’lar dose. Is the gal, ver niece, in the camp? ** Who “Cyrille?” cried Hardinge, amazed. are you?’ ‘*Sam Wildcat, left fur sced in the Powder River valley. I hed the gal in my arms the other night; but the Sioux got her. The gal, yer niece, cap’n. What on airth ar’ you lookin’ at? Hev I turned catamount er alligator since I saw you last?” ; ‘ Oyrille alive and near me,” cried Hardinge. “The girl in this village? Impossible! Sam ou will helpme. We will go back and find er!” ‘** Back thar whar scalpin’ is the programme? I’ve taken my reg’lar dose to night—two Injuns raw. You kin go back ef yer want to, but old Sam Wildcat prefars to wait till the battle is over. Thet other fellar is somewhar around, an’ I hev no desire to meet ’im. I’ve found six dead Injuns in my travels to-night an’ thar ar’ only six goodears among ’em. I say, cap’n— Great gunflints! look yonder!” Hardinge turned and saw the head of 2 bear between him and the moon. The next moment he saw the body. ‘*Good-by, cap’n. Sam Wildcat doesn’t want an introduction,” exclaimed the frontier rascal. **T’llsee you later, ef convenient.” An instant later Wildcat was bounding away and Hardinge was not far behind him. ‘¢Run! cowards, run!” cried a new voice, ‘J will not desert Cyrille at any rate. I have sworn to save her, and, despite the Secret Slayer’s presence—despite the Indian battle ing over yonder, 1 will not turn my back on Cloud’s village until I learn something about Cyrille.” The speaker rose from the ground in the shadow of a lodge near where the two men had stood. It was Ned Temple, Cyrille’s boy companion and lover. CHAPTER VII. TAKEN UNAWARES, if he was treacherous, ben Simon was no coward. He had carried his life in his hands into too many “hostile” camps to show the white feather te a lot of Mountain Crows. One thought maddened him above all others while he hastened tothat part of Red Ciloud’s ee ——_ ——e- ee ——-— e- town where the two bands already engaged in deadly conflict, were struggling for the mastery, Stargold had been slain in his arms, and that, too, by a Crow arrow. It wasastray barb, no doubt intended for the heart of a Sioux warrior, but, missing its first mark, it had found the fairest target in the Indian camp. A few rapid bounds in as many minutes brought him to the field of battle, and putting himself at the head of the Sioux warriors with a revolver in each hand, he led a charge that turned the tide of war, and drove the mountain wolves, beaten and disorganized, from the field when victory was about to declare in their fa- vor. The raid had failed, but the victory had cost the Sioux dearly. Fifty of their warriors lay on the plain, and several women and children had been hit by stray arrows. Simon, as a matter of course, came in for a large share of the praise bestowed on the vic- tors; but he soon found an opportunity for with- drawing from the, to him, diszusting spectacle, He ran back to the spot where he had left Stargold. The beaten Crows had retreated in that di- rection, and what would heal their wounds are than the beautiful scalp of Red Cloud’s child? A howl of rage burst from the scout’s throat when he reached the spot. The body of his dusky love was missing! Fora moment Ben Simon stood bewildered at the place, staring at the ground. “Twenty scalps fer ev’ry h’ar!” he suddenly exclaimed, ‘‘ Death steps on yer trail, you mean Mountain Crows. Far’well, cap’n; take keer ov yerself, TF ar’well, Beverly; old Ben Simon hez gone intc the Crow pickin’ business. He’s goin’ to make howlin’ in the mountains. {’m a walkin’ death from this night, a hull grave- yard on wheels!” He looked over his shoulders for a moment and listened. Behind him the Indian camp was anuproar. The fiendish cries of Indian victory were mingled with the wild mourning chants sung by the Sioux women. The scout tightened his belt, and then darted away to disappear on the trail of the beaten Crows. ‘““Go back fer the boys? No! I’m goin’ te make my own graveyard,” he said. ‘* The boys would only hinder me. The Crows will not go far. I'll find ’em somewhar along the old pass.” Nobody knew the war tactics cf the Crows better than the man now on their track. An hour later the figure of the scout leaned over a cliff, and he looked down upon a large peak of Indians in tho bottom of the ravine be- neath. Did his eyes glitter like a tiger’s while he gazed with his eager fingers twitching uncasily at the triggers of bis revolvers? Suddenly a wild cry tiat almost betrayed him parted Ben Simon’s lips. A fire was burning in the ravine, and it re- vealed the rocky sices of the pass. Here and there a few bushes growing in the clefts of the rocks cast grotesque shadows, but otherwise the light shone every where, Ben Simon saw every Indian; he might have counted them if a certain figure had not sud- den] vt into view, ‘‘Stargold, by my eyes!” he cried. * Why didn’t I stay by the girl? Ben Simon, hey you forgotten that a Crow arrer doesn’t always kill? Stargold wouldn’t be down thar now ef you had stayed by her. She’s not likely to become Mrs, Simon; she never will if you lie hera like a fool an’ let them mountain wolves do their worst,” Red Cloud’s child stood beneath the scout, and in the midst of the Crow warriors! She looked every inch an India: queen, with hei long hair and flashing eyes, and her faultless figure drawn to its true hight. On every side were ran the Crows, wild, half-naked men, armed with knives and toma- hawks. Not a few still bled from wounds re- ceived in the camp fight, and all smarted under the defeat. Stargold was unbound, but helpless still, and Simon thought that her eyes wandered to the belts of the Indians nearest her as if she longed to seize a hatchet and bid defiance to the Crows. ‘“‘ Let "em open the ball!” hissed the scout, as his long arms went over the precipice and his deadly revolvers covered the fiends before the Sioux girl. ‘Jes’ let ’em lift a hand ag’in’ Stargold, an’ death wil! stert a graveyard in tiie Old pass afore mornin’. Face the tigers, gal, an’ never flinch. Look’em in the eye, an’ be what you war an hour azgo—Red Cloun’s j _~ ——— - - eee eee “owe ree queen! Tech ’er ef you dare, Mountain Crows;. yes, jes’ lift a finger ag’in’ ’er!” Ben Simon did not look bebind him; his whole attention was directed to the scene in the moun- tain pass. Therefore, he did not see the dark figure that had followed him cat-like up the mountain, the figure, which, hali-hidden by a tree, appeared to be watching him wilh uw pair of vengeful eyes. The watcher had the shape and fgure of Major Beverly; but what had brought that worthy into the midst cf Siouxdom? We left him flying from Red Cloud’s warriors along the. banks of Powder river. He had abandoned Ned Temple to his fate, Had he returned to bunt the boy down, and to rid the world of a rival for Cyrille’s hand? . Whon Ben Simon’s attention became fixed om, Stargold and her captors the watcher crept ~ from his tree, and, snuke-like in bis moveme again approached the scout. The scout bearé nothing; the tread of a cinnamon would hardly have disturbed him. The short grass aided Beverly; it gave forth: no sound, and when he stcpped again he migh* have touched Simon's feet with bis revolver. ‘*Who can it be?” muttered Beverly “ Tt ain’t the hoy. Isecothat now, Is it Kardinge Ah! I would like to meet that cowardly deserter’ somewhere among these mountain lands and tell him how he deserted Cyrille and lefi her te. her fate somewhere between Bufcrd and Reno, But Lcare not who he Le--Hardinge, the boy ~ or Wildcati Here goes!” As Beverly finished, he rose and threw up biz pistol arm. ‘*Captain Hardinge?” he exclaimed. The man cn tke ground leaped up with > ery, and Beverly started back. ‘‘Oh! it is you, traitcr!” he cried, * Thank Heaven we ere alone!” and Peverly, seeming ta: forget that he carried leaden death in his band, flung his revolver to the ground, and sprung liks a tiger at the throat of the sccat, It was a tound which could not be resisted, end although Ben Simon struggled with thedes perateness of despair, the man whom he bad eres seemed to pcssess superhuman strength. Beverly forced the pistols from the scout’s hands, and then bore him to the very edge of the cliff. The pebbles broke loose beneath the. traitor’s feet, and still the band of the cavalry. man was at his throat. ‘*Down you go, villain!” hissed Beverly. “You've betrayed your lest white man into» the hands of the Sioux. There are two more left for Beverly’s vengeance, which, as sureiy as death, shall overtake them. Now, and join the army of dead traitors, headed by the. chiefest cf all—Arnold! And take with you the ccmpliments of Frank Beverly.” A sudden push, a balf-ultered oath, and Ben Simon was hurled from the bank, Beverly cid not lean forward to witness the cocm cf the traitor, for it was by a master effort that he hept himself safe; but he heard a wild indien yellthat almost froze his blood. Yndians below him? ‘Heavens! I did not know that I was throw- ing the traifor down to his friends!’ be ex- claimed. ‘* Well, let them receive him as they ~ have received him before—with open arms,” Aht Ben Simon had not fallen among the. Crows. In his flight downward he had caught a clump. of strong rock bushes in his hands, and was: anging suspended in the firelight over tho chasm. Well might the Indians start back and utter wild cries at the sight of a man banging above. them by a frail grasp on a few mountain .. bushes, Stargold recognized Ben Simon in an instant. ** Save! cave!” the cried, in her native tongue, as she sprung forward; but the naked arms of” the Crows dashed her back. . : The next instant twenty elk-horn bows were bent, and a many deadly arrows, drawn to the barb, covered the body of the suspended scout. “Shoot!” grated Ben Simon, looking cown over his shoulder. ‘You’ve got Ben Simon whar you want ’im. To-morrer you may not hev ’im in sich good shape. Make hay while the sun shines, Mountain Crows!” CHAPTER VIIL THE DEATH SHADOW’S HATRED, We left Cyrille about to fall into the hands: of the bear-man who had rescued her from the hatchet of the survivor of the Indian duel. Let us go back to tho spot_and follow her for- trynac foe a Hime. : ' ; / 50) 0 85 eyoo!