Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 188 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

ee ee me ee ee ee ae -— You took my Injun beauty from me, an’ I’m goin’ to take yourn from you.” Wildcat took a mad stride toward the edge of the cliff, Simon, witha tigerish roar, sprung after him. He held his bowie in his hand. ** Stand back!” cried Wildcat. There was a threat in the command, but it fell against a rock. The scout never stopped, but threw himself against Wildcat, who was braced for the as- sault. The right hand of the would-be slayer of. Stargold caught the descending arm and a mo- ment later Ben Simon was hurled back from his foe. ‘** Tl] settle with you arter awhile,” said Wild- cat, turning to the cliff again. Simon fell at full length on the ground ten feet away, but hastily scrambled to his feet. As he did so he heard the sharp report of a revolver, and saw the dark figure of Wildcat withdraw from the pass, ‘*She’s down thar—yer Injun beauty!” said Wildcat, coolly. ‘‘We’re even now. Now we'll go to the cave an’ squar’ accounts.” Ben Simon stood for a moment like a man be- wildered before Sam Wildcat, then all at once the truth seemed to flash across his mind. He sprung forward with a cry of horror and looked down into the pass for a moment. What did he see? A number of excited Indians rushing up and down the gulch seeking a path that would lead them to the enemies above, and a few bending over the 4 figure of his dusky sweet- heart, Red Cloud’s daughter, shot by his old en- emy, Wildcat. A moment’s glance was enough for the traitor. A mad yell broke from his throat as he turned. “We'll fight here, Wildcat!” he roared, dash- ing at the figure that confronted him. ‘Hold on! I’m not the man, Ben, Don’t tear me up, for mercy’s sake!” Simon let go at the sound of the voice and started back. He had seized upon Hardinge, “*Whar’s Wildcat?’ nena meemedhedied oath, a cry o r **'Whar’s his trail?” 7% *“‘T dont know. I was watching you and did not see him go.”’ ‘‘The skunk!” Then Simon shouted: ‘Sam Wildcat, ros cowardly white-livered hound, I dare you k—I, old Ben Simon, a better man nor youdare be. I kin mopthe ground ov Mon- tana with a dozen Wildcats all once. I kin lick you six times afore breakfast. You're a liar, an’ a hoss-thief; you shook yer old mother on her dyin’ bed!” A wild laugh of derision came down the mountain. Simon looked up, grated his teeth, and sent words of fierce defiance back. ‘Not now; you can’t taunt me enough to git me down,” said Wildcat. ‘‘I’m engaged in other business jes’ now; but Pll meet you any- whar next week an’ settle accounts,” ‘* Thet’s a lie!” went up the mountain. “Try me!” cane back. “* Next Friday then; at the cave on the Bald Top mountain.’ “ll be thar!” ‘* An’ so will Ben Simon, the Greased Thun- derbolt ov Montana.,’’ Wildeat did not reply. Somewhere over- head, he was hastening away with the blood of Red Cloud’s daughter on his hands, A few minutes’ search enabled Simon to re- cover the pistols which Major Beverly had snatched from his hands. ‘‘We must not stay here,” Hardinge said. “ Ov course not. Thar ar’ two death trails for Ben Simon now.” “Two?” ‘‘ Yes, Sam Wildcat’s is one, an’ the major’s is the otber.” ‘The major?’ exclaimed Hardinge. ‘He pushed me _ off—slipped up behind me while [ war watchin’ the Crows menace Star- gold, and over [ went. I thought he had scooted back to Fetterman; but he’s in these parts huntin’ somebody. He left the post to find you, cap’n.” Hardinge uttered an oath. ‘‘{ helped him when he was Red Cloud’s cap-ive,” the deserter said. ‘‘ He is a man who never forgets favors. He may think, Ben, that Cyrille is somewhere around.’ ‘*Wal, what is the gal to him?’ _ * More than you think.” * But you don’t want him to find her?’ ‘ Ned Temple, the Border Boy. ee FL! ee ee ee ‘*No! If the guides didn’t do their duty—if they left Cyrille alive in this country, I hope that 1 may get them before my rifle. I paid them to do acertain thing. Do you think they are down there with their brethren?’ ‘**'Wo mustn’t inquire jes’ now, at any rate. If the gal is hyarabouts we’ll find ’er, an’ the next time, cap’n, thar’ll be nolyin’ Crows to fail, eh, my friend?” ‘“'That’s sound talk, Ben. Stand by me, and Y’ll fill your pockets with gold—not dirty nug- gets, but the beauties of Uncle Sam’s mints. I ought to have given you the job in the first place, but never mind. You never had a girl to stand between you and wealth, happiness, and position?” ‘* Never, cap’n.” ‘Then you don’t know anything about my position. Now I’m ready.” Ben Simon cast a last look over the edge of the cliffas he tightened his belt, and saying ‘*Come on” to his companion, strode away. pening Hardinge was eager to leave the spot. A new thought filled his mind. Cyrille must be still alive, and somewhete in the Sioux country, for Sam Wildcat had nar- rated enough of his adventures during the flight from the Indian camp to almost fix his belief in her existence. Did he want her dead? The two Crows had failed to do their ‘‘ duty :” the girl was still a thorn in his path—a thorn upon which he was likely to tread at any mo- ment on his road to ‘‘ wealth, happiness and po- sition.” The Crows did not pursue the three whites, but remained in the pass. Daylight breaking over hill and valley saw Hardinge and Ben Simon emerging from a mountain forest. The traitor had another man to betray. Suddenly Simon halted and turned to his partner as he pointed downward. A bluish smoke was rising above the tree- tops. aN breakfast fire—Wildcat mebbe!” said the scout, while his eyes flashed. The twain now pean to Spnrogeh the spot, and after a good dea) of crawling on all fours their eyes beheld four Indians seated around what Ben Simon had called a ‘ breakfast fire.” They were entirely unsuspicious for their rifles lean agers a tree near by; they were wait- be roasted ing for the bear-steaks on the coals ‘‘ We've got the villains!” suddenly cried Hardinge ‘By Jove! this is a pleasure unex- ected. Look at those two on the left of the e! Did you ever see them before?” ‘‘Ov course I heyv—Black Robe and Uncapa.” “The two red scoundrels that went back on the agreement I made with them,” hissed Hard- inge. Are you ready, Ben?” “ Ready fur what?’ ‘‘ Why, to send a bullet into one while I take care of the other.” , ‘An’ miss a good chance ov knowin’ fur sartain whar the gal is? I say, take the other two an’ leave Black Robe an’ Uncapa.” ‘‘ A good idea! I did not think of it.” The repeating rifles of the twain were at their shoulders, and all at once two of the Indians sprung back from the fire and fell dead. The two others leaped toward their rifles. ‘‘ Halt!” shouted Hardinge. ‘‘Touch a gun and we'll bullet bore you. We've got the dead drop on you. I want to hold a talk with you; that is all.” ‘‘ He wants to kill you. I have the dead es on him! Run for your lives, Uncapa and Blac Robe. I'l kill the white man whose cheek drops to his rifle for aim.” Hardinge and the scout, involuntarily turned their heads toward the speaker. __ He was not far away, and the rifle that cov- ered them was held above the tops of a clump of bushes. a Only half of the speaker's figure was visible. ‘‘ A’ boy, by Jove!” grated the deserter. Yes, a boy—Ned Temple! CHAPTER X. RED ALLIES. It was a strange tableau. The two Crows hesitated, -nd their gaze al- ternated between the rifles that covered their bodies and the boy who threatened the lives of Ben Simon and his comrade. ‘‘ Lower your rifles!” continued Ned. ‘‘Cap- tain Hardinge, your rascality has already for- feited your life at my hands,and my finger itches to press the trigg>r it now touches. Those Indians, Uncapa and Black Robe, failed to their liking. a 9) a sae eee e - e —_—_—— oe ~~ | to do your bidding. I know now why they left Cyrille and I and refused to guide us to the gates of Fort Reno; they were afraid to face you after receiving pay for a deed which even they had not the heart to commit. Now, sir, neither you nor your comrade whom I recog- nize as the notorious Ben Simon shall shed a drop of their blood. Down with your rifles: throw them down or die! This is the last com mand!” ‘The brat hez got us, cap’n,” whispered the scout. ‘‘ He means bigness when he talks thet way. Our time will come. Down go theshoot- in’-irons!” and Simon cast his weapon down. Hardinge followed his example with an oath and sullenly faced the boy whose eyes glittered with triumph. ‘* Now, sirs, about face! forward march!” The two men turned; but twenty feet away they halted. “On! on! I can kill at long range,” were the bore words that drove them forward again, he two worthies did not halt again until they had passed beyond rifle-shot. ‘Not another step, cap’n!” said the traitor scout halting. ‘I'll die hyar first.” Well might he be defiant now; the bullets of the boy could not reach him, The two plotters did not know that they had walked the last fifty yards at the mercy of the rifles of the Crows, nor that they owed their continued existence to Ned whose uplifted hand had kept the red-skins’ fingers from their trig- gers. When they looked back they saw their young foe and the Indians together at the fire. ‘‘They’re goin’ to make a trail fer us,” said the scout. ‘ All we hev got to do to find the gal, is to foller them.” . ‘‘And follow them we will and that to the death!” grated Hardinge, regarding the scene. “aan the death mind you, Ben. The boy must e. ‘“*T ginerally kill young wolves, when I catch ‘em. They never grow to be old ones then. A whack on the head, er a bullet, an’ you never run across ’em ag’in’, never!” ** Who is that boy?” ‘** Don’t | know ’im?” responded Simon with a rin. ‘‘Why he’s Colonel Temple’s second-hand y; he war found freezin’ in an emigrant’s wagon a good many winters ABO. somewhar near the Cheyenne bad lands. 8 a rooster, he is; tripped me once at Buford, jes’ fer fun, an’ laid me up durin’ the bull ov a buffler season with the worse shoulder west ov the Missoury, Don’t T love ’im, cap’n? Doesn’t a grimly love a mountain sheep?’ and Simon’s eyes murderously while he spoke. | Meanwhile Ned and the Crows were together They ware thath ho had guided Cyrille ey were the braves who } Averill and himself to within a tow haftes of Fort Reno, and then mysteriously left them to shift for themselves. | Our first chapter has already told of the re- mainder of that journey. or The Crows greeted Ned with outstretched 7 hands, : ‘* Where girl?” one asked and then quickly continued. ‘Big fort all burnt up; soldiers gone. ‘Yes, Fort Reno’s ruins greeted ug Cyrille and I were separated there. here Cyrille is just now I do not know.” . ‘Girl lost? White man over there no get her. Him bad, too bad for Uncapa and Black Robe to do what him pay ’em for.” ‘‘Then you were to slay Cyrille?” The two Indians nodded assent, ‘* Let me forget that Thornton Hardinge has such a heart as that in his breast. I hho I have met him for the last time. Should we meet again I may not grant him the mercy he received today. I am hunting for Cyrille now. “The Crows will help white boy. The trails of Sioux land are to them the trails of theiy own country. They krow ’em ell.” ‘“*T accept your help,” Ned replied. “TI have been of service to you to-day; you may scrve me,” ‘Good! We march egainst our foes first; then the girl.” The eyes of the Indians were darting looks of revenge and hnetre' tov ard the distant specta- tors of the conference. ‘No: let them go for the present,” the boy said. ‘* Their trails will cross yours again, and [am satisfied that you will not have to wait long for that event either. Then I will not say no.” hy lag ‘*Bov talk well. mebbe: bus the snake that the Indian spares lives to bite again.” ooks:com