Beadle's Half Dime Library, Vol. 1, No. 2 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

+ eee Se SC — F - 40 ‘*From the settlements—then who are these ene- mies? You have told me too much, young man, not to say more,”’ added Warren, suspiciously. - ! how can you make me tell more than I wish to admit of my own free will? Do you think I fear death? Don’t try to ride over me, rough-shod, stranger, or you'll get hurt.’’ sneered Ca oe ** We're losin’ time, boss,’’ put in’ Chris Camp, un- easily. ‘*‘ The wimmen may be in danger.”’ “You are looking for two ladies—and a youn man?” abruptly demanded Campbell of the emi- nt. ‘“Yes—my daughter and niece. They were run away with—”’ “ They are safe enough, old man, though they had a narrow go Wait—you can ask questions af- terward. I tell you they are safe enough. If you an- swer my questions freely, then I'll tell you something that may be of use to you. First, do you know any- thing of a man named Mat Mole; middle-sized, black hair, eyes and beard, hook-nose, rather good-look- ing, about forty years old?”’ *No—I don't reco e the description.”’ “You have asbrother in California, who wrote for you to come out there, to join him in business?”’ “Yes, but how could you know this? I—”’ “T do know it—that’s enough. Listen now, and mark what I tell you. This Mole is your deadly enemy. He has followed you from Omaha, with a band of land-pirates. I acted as their guide, because I knew we would see something of the Blackfeet. We have driven you from the right trail, by false | signs, which were read to you, as we intended, by a man Mole has in Say! camp. To-day Mole was joined by a band of Blackfeet; that’s why I have de- serted him. To-night they mean to attack you. You will find all re spare ammunition destroyed. That is to be the work of Mole’s man, your false guide, who calls himself—” “*Easy thar, old man—you're wuss'’n a rattler, fer he shakes his tail afore he strikes!’’ yelled Yellow- stone Jack, and a man was hurled headlong at the young scout’s feet, a long knife flying before the quivering form. ** Brindle—Hoosier—close up! He saved our ba- con—ef these chaps mean to bounce ‘im, they must —s ary a reil, with be added Jack, nar - ng before Cam wn weapons, promptly backed up by his comrades. The emigrants started back and drew their wea- ns. Fora moment there seemed a fair prospect or another duel to the death, only between those of the same color. “What do you mean?”’ demanded Warren, of Jack. “What ’d he mean, by tryin’ to stick the young fellow here? From behind, too—the pizen snake!”’ ‘“*Tt’s true,”’ observed Russel. ‘I saw it all.” *Wait,’’ uttered Campbell. ‘“‘This man must be the guide I spoke of. None other could have an motive for stopping my tongue. If so, his name is Chris Camp.”’ * That is his name; but he came to us well recom- mended.’’ “* Exactly so—from Mole, who signed himself Cap- tain Luke Harding, U. 8. A.,”’ sneered the young scout. ‘ But there—I have warned you; heed it or not, as you please. You will find your friends either on their way to your wagons, or at the head of the upper pass. I left them there two hours since. our horses and wagon, though, are at the bottom of Chetish canon.” ** You will lead us there? I will pay you—”’ *“T work for revenge, not pay. These hunters can Seaye you. Good-by, now,” and Campbell strode rap- ya way. “For litile I’d stop him,’’ muttered Warren, doubt- ing] -< .Gcnes half like his story.”’ You must walk over me an’ my pards, then, boss,” yee returned Jack. ‘‘He saved our ha’r, an’ shell hev fa’r play, ef it costs a lawsuit. I reckon you'd better look to that snake yender. I hit him chug, but his head’s harder ’n a nigger’s.”’ Camp had partially recovered from the heavy blow dealt by Yellowstone Jack’s iron fist, and hur- edly secured the knife that had fallen from his — It was this movement that drew forth the et exclamation. arren seemed in doubt what doto. The words of the stranger, added to the scout’s attempt A his life, had made some impression upon his mind, Pare th ~“ Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. so to speak. You lent me a mule-kick. My head’s dizzy, my han’ tremb’les, an’ I don’t reckon I could fetch out your hull style as [I'd wish. Onless you're pressin’, we'll wait a bit—say ontel mornin’,”’ drawled Chris Camp. “Right you air! One thing fust—I fergot you’d promeesed old Go Se ae aie the varmint’s name—to spile these fellers’ powder,” laughed the she 5 ge “Some folks ’d say a man was a durned fool to o an’ drive the nails in his own coffin—but you on’t *pear to think so, Yellowstone Jack,” and the — smiled again—a peculiar, sickly smile that ded danger. **Come,” impatiently interrupted Warren, “you can settle this quarrel some other time—or now, if you wish, but we can’t stop to see it. If there is any truth in what that man said, we have no time to lose here. He said you men would know the way to pan upper pass. Is there any nearer way t by goin + | along this pass, then up the other?” “Not fer hosses. I'll show ye the way, ef so be ou'll wait long enough fer us to plant poor Heel ank hyar, whar the reds won't stum’le over his top-kno “the *Make haste, then. I'll ride on to the train and see if they have got back. If they have, I'll send word to you where the canyon divides.” arren rode rapidly away, and the emigrants busied themselves in looking after their dead and wounded. Three had been killed—making four with Gila Hank, the ig 7 r. They were all single men, since Minnie and Ada were the only women accom- i the train, and so it was deemed best to ury them where they had fallen, rather than to carry them to the wagons. “It’s rough lines on us, boys,’’ said Yellowstone Jack, sadly, as they composed the limbs of the dead trapper in a deep cleft in the rocks. ‘Two boys rubbed out in one day—hafe of our party in a week. ’Pears like this was goin’ to be a costly trip fer us.”’ ‘**Hank went under like a true mountain man, jest as he’d wished fer this many a year. He made his coup fust. I don’t reckon the varmints ‘ll hev much to brag on, when all’s counted. But thar was Chavez —he didn’t die right. I’m dub’ous his sperrit ‘ll ha’nt us,’ muttered Brindle Joe. ‘**Not ef J kin help it. To-morrer I'll take the trail —I'll try that witch—spook—whatever the critter is —an’ see ef I cain’t rest pore Mexy. [Ef I kin borrer a silver dollar, to run up, I'll be all right,’’ said Yel- lowstone, thoughtfully. ‘**Goin’ to jine in wi’ these fellers? Ef what that feller—the Blood-Drinker—said is true, I reckon thar’s goin’ to be the tallest kind o’ fun round hyar *fore long.”’ ‘“* Ef they needs it, Hoosier, mebbe we'll lend ’em a hand—but not inside their durned corral. I fights free, 7 does.” “Whar’s that pizen snake—the critter you hit, Jack,’’ demanded Brindle Joe. ‘*I don’t see him—”’ “Yender he Poe seis me—too late! He's under kiver. So much fer bein’ a durned fool! Ef I'd hed my way, he’d ’a’ croaked ‘fore this. Wal, they'll hev one more to fight, that’s all,”’ disgustedly cried Yel- | lowstone, as he saw the form of the traitor guide vanish among the rocks. Chris Camp had indeed slipped away while the men were busy with their dead. Pursuit was idle, considering the route he had chosen, and the party at once entered the pass. At the division they met Warren, who spurred up, pale and breathless. Nothing had been seen or heard of the women, and dreading the worst, the party rode on through the i! pass. ey saw blood-marks, traces of what might have been a death-struggle, but nothing more. Warren ed with agony, and nearly fell from his animal. ‘** Don’t take on so, boss,’’ said Yellowstone, sooth- ingly. ‘‘ Mebbe they’re all right yit, an’ hyar’s me = my mates is ready to take the trail—or ruther to unt or the one we've lost—an’ ef Pon Si above airth, we'll find ‘em. Meantime you'd better go look to the wagons, for you’ll smell burnt powder afore mornin’, sure. Corral them by the spring, under the font keep good watch, ef you want to see day- ag’ » nis Web's you—I have money—”’ “Wait ontel we do the 9 stay; ef you hev a was in the wagon. Thar’s on’y one way to settle that—by takin’ a look where the outfit stopped. It’s dark now to look further fer a trail on these rocks, We kin go up the kenyon to a point whar we kin git down it, take a look at what thar is b’low hyar, an’ git back in plenty time to take a hand in whatever fun thar’ll be goin’ on at the train yender.”’ ‘Sound hoss sense, an’ well put, Brindle Joe,” cried Yellowstone. ‘I reckon I know the right trail; come on.” Indeed, there seemed weraee. & else that could pos- sibly be accomplished that night. For over an hour the three pe had been closely searchin he ground in the vicinity of the upper pass, withou success. The flinty wet sod retained no footprints. The perilous trail followed by the fugitives had been overlooked, for the trappers could not know that a Blackfoot chief had been guiding them, and there seemed scarce og ged a cat below the escarp- ment. They n doubt the truth of what Campbell had told them—to believe that the depths of the canon contained the corpses of those they sought, Yellowstone Jack led the way, proceeding rapidly, for a considerable detour must be made before they could reach a point where a descent into the canon was possible. And, despite the mere losses they had sustained, not one of the trio but was anxious to take part in the anticipated conflict at the corraled wagons. Somebody burnin’ powder,’ suddenly uttered Yel- lowstone, The report of a rifle rung out upon the evening air, its reverberation awakening a thousand echoes among the hills, until one could fancy the skirmish- ing line of an entire army at its deadly work. The trappers tried to settle the point from whence the shot bacon but in vain. The thousand echoes completely bewildered them, and a few moments later they resumed their course. It was this shot that hurled Frank Maynard down the canon, For nearly an hour the trappers pressed on, with- out further interruption, but then Yellowstone ree quickly aside, crouching behind a bowlder, ssing: ** Cache, boys, there’s a varmint just ahead!” ‘“* Easy, friends,” Esomptty replied a clear, not un- musical voice, from ane & oom beyond, ‘“ There’s no quarrel between us, that I know of.”’ z Wx, air you, then?’ demanded Yellowstone ack, . ‘*‘A friend to all those who are not in 1 e with the accursed Blackfeet. You saw me to-day when your comrade was rubbed out,” ‘**The feller what called hisself the Blood-Drinker —but don’t trust him foo fur,” muttered Brindle Joe. ‘“"F you're alone, step out. I reckon we've got a crow to pick wi’ you,” added Yellowstone, uncock- ing his rifle. ‘Iam alone, but I'm not afraid to trust you. I set you down for true men, to-day, and I'm not often deceived in a man,” quietly said Campbell, ad- vancing. “Folks is sometimes peskily bad fooled. You _ don’t look like your tongue was crooked, Bg you put e ‘7 = a false trail to-day,”’ dryly replied ack, “There is some mistake here—”’ ' “Jest what 7 thort—a blamed big one, too. Didn't you say you left them -critters all safe? Then whar be they? They ain’t whar you said, nor at the emi t es “fT told you the truth. I saved them from being dashed into the canon, by shooti one of their horses. They were all right whenI left them. Be- sides, I warned them of the presence of enemies. It may be that they have been captured. These hills are swarming with their enemies, both pale-faces and Blackfeet.”’ ** Look here—you say you've quit these fellers!”’ ‘“Yes—they have banded with my deadly enemies, the Blackfeet. For ten years past I have never miss- ed an opportunity of taking a Blackfoot’s scalp; is it likely, then, that I would fight with and for them, now?”’ “Will you lend us a hand, then?” bluntly asked Yellowstone. | ‘*In what way?” llowstone et the guide had played his part so well as to gain | silver dollar—thanks ! ow go—the sun's most ** We was goin’ to take a look in the kenyon—” | e £ opinion of nearly all the emigrants. It did | down.” “That would be a waste of time. Those you seek | not seem possible that he could be such a double-dis- Warren finally yielded, and rode back to the | arenotthere. If they have not reached their friends, i || tilled traitor to the men whose bread he ate. wagons, then some of Mole’s men, or some of the Blackfeet Hil ‘**Who was *t hit me?” growled Camp, glarin have captured them. I will do better. I will show i around upon the little party, an evil light in his blood. CHAPTER XI. you their camp.” pay don’t rar a about : ck eno , an’ I'd hate to think o’ you as a traitor. But thar’ll be three fellers nigh to ye, who’re tol’'able quick on the trigger, an’ who kin hit the bigness of a man when it’s cluss enough,” slowly uttered the pa nt ‘**Nor am I used to such threats. I don’t ask you to trust me. You need not accept my offer unless you gee yy oo, Campbell. ‘°F you mean right, thar’s no ‘fense intended. What say, boys? Shall we go wi’ him?” = | “You kin trust him—a feller lyin’ don’t talk that a-way,’’ promptly Wome 9g Brindle Joe, and Hoosier in- ef. | shot eyes. e, stranger. You al “You needn’t look no furder ’n me,” promptly re- . talk ti plied Yellowstone. ‘‘I hit ye—jest as I woul | other snake as I see’d crawlin’ up ahind a man to | strike ‘im unbeknown, like. Ef a feller wants to be i so pizen mean, he ain’t wuth bein’ treated like a hu- h | man critter.”’ a i ** Better pray ‘at the fancy don’t cost ye too dear, yi young feller,”’ grinned Chris reg 4 with a sickly i | * gmile. ‘*I don’t gen’ally er a blow very soon. Hi Mebbe I’m slower ’n some, but I al’ays pays my at debts—I do, so /” Hi “T lent ye the lick out o’ pure love, old pizenness. ti I'd do a heap fer ye, I’ve taken sech a fancy fer yer in- SCOUTING AND FIGHTING. ‘**I RECKON I’m up a stump, fer once,” grunted Brindle Joe, disgustedly rubbing his head. “A owl couldn't foller a trail now, even a’ter ‘twas found, which this ’ne ain’t, by a pesky sight!”’ ““'F these gal critters ’d on’y wore shoes like the hosses—but thar ain’t enough on *’em to make a trail on fresh snow. I reckon we’re played, boys,” com- mented Yellowstone Jack. “I’ve got a idee, mebbe ‘tain’t wuth much; I don’t let on to be much a’count, onless it is on a trail. But I don’t reckon thar’s anythin’ else we kin do, sence the varmints ain’t a-goin’ to trouble the train | timated a similar | nercent-lookin’ mug; I hev, so. But yit, I'm ’com- | fersome hours yit, anyhow? What of boys?” ‘**Come, then; the trail is a roundabout one and the iy modatin’ to friinds. ’F he cor you Owe me any- ‘naar shen you'd nag elle us see is ha fust; a a — be creep up to surround their haince to settle. Rifle, peeps, or en mebbe we kin better,” dryly observed | prey,” tersely added Cam pel, eading the way, butcher—a-critter-back or afoot, white man’s style Hoosier. y aa y pace, y P 5 y, ata H thin’, now’s y’ur c ' ‘*Was thinkin’—but thar. You heerd what that feller said—him as called hisself the Blood-Drinker. Yuu kin tell es well es me whether he was lyin’ or no. You kin see, too, that somethin’ has gone over the ridge o’ the kenyon hyar. Mebbe it’s | only the hoss-critters—~mebbe the gal-critters | or fashion—jest say the word, and Yellow- stone Jack’ll do the best he knows to make it inter- estin’ fer ye.”’ , “Not now; Isaid I kin wait. You look like you was a man. I'd like to do ye as nigh justice as I kin, Wouldn’t ’sult ye by fightin’ ye at e-cock— hough the sun had set clear, the heavens were rapidly becoming overcast, and the full moon o shone forth at rare intervals. Vernon Campbell led the way with acelerity and promptness that told how well he knew the country, and even the well trained trappers were forced to admire his noiseless progress. Se stesso aaa cacnr ss wunnnnnnnnE .S 6)(6\(6) (E €oim