Beadle's Half Dime Library, Vol. 1, No. 2 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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4 - Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. boyees!”” he gritted, drawing the stout-bladed butcher-knife from his belt, and preparing for a for- ward leap. Only a few yards off two dusky, shining-skinned forms glided crouchingly along through the scattered shrubbery. They were Indians—the same, beyond a doubt, who had made the trail that sharp-eyed Brin- dle Joe detected. The trappers had only one thought. Vengeance for their murdered comrade was within their p. It was enough that these intruders were -men, They could not be friends. ‘“*Sock it to em, boys!”’ gritted Yellowstone Jack, as he leaped. upon the foremost savage with the un- erring aim of a lurking carcajou who for hours has angers watched for the unconscious victim to pass eneath its perch. There was little or no struggle. Quick and deadl as the lightning’s flash, Yellowstone buried his knife haft-deep in the savage’s heaving chest, and then bore him heavily backward, stifling in his throat the convulsive death-shriek that otherwise would have rung out in all its fierce agony. Then—with one hor- rible shudder, the rigid limbs relaxed. The spirit of the red-man had fled. “Whoo-oop!” uttered Yellowstone, but in a sub- dued tone, as he turned around just in time to see Brindle Joe arise from the corpse of his antagonist. ““T reckon Fatty Smith ’d grin now, ef he could on’y see how we e our wo good—though his skelp was wuth a dozen sech pelts es these /”’ “ Oarrai /” you big varmints don’t give a little man fair show—you take all the fun, like boys!”’ grumbled the little Mexican, Chavez. ** Better luck next time, babby. Thar wasn’t time fer drawin’ lots. But see—lift thar ha’r, while I go see ef all’s right wi’—”’ **Ge-thunder! look yender!’’ muttered Brindle Joe pointing across the valley, his deeply-bronzed an grotesquely-freckled face—from which nom de nique was derived—turning a shade lighter. , The—the spirit!’’ breathed Yellowstone, in a tone of awe. Upon a slender point of rock that jutted out from the face of the almost perpendicular cliff, stood a fairy-like figure, clearly outlined against the gray rocks. The figure of a woman, or rather that of a girl, just budding into womanhood. Her features could not be distinguished clearly, though the awe- stricken trappers could see that her skin was dusky olive tinted ; : was jetty black. Her garb was plain, unornament- ed, even rude, ogee 4 | composed of skins with the hair still on, her arms bare to the shoulder. In one hand she held a white bow; the other was just lucking an arrow from the quiver at her back. en the bow was bent until the feathered shaft fairly brushed her ear, and when the string relaxed, the missile hurtled through the air, quivering deep in the ground several yards behind the trappers, as she uttered, in a clear, musical voice, speakitia the Kain- na-Blackfoot dialect: ‘*T have warned you—beware!” ‘*Thar’s somethin’ fastened on the arrer-head,” ¥ red Brindle Joe, whose eyes were like a awk’s. Yellowstone Jack, closely followed by his com- rades, ran to the spot where the arrow had fallen, and as the young oper pulled it from its earthen sheath, he detected a strip of buck-skin wound round the shaft. Unloosening this, he eagerly gazed upon the small, curious symbols portrayed in red wens the white skin. Then the puzzled trapper turned to Brindle Joe. That worthy was staring in open-mouth- ed astonishment, pointing toward the cliff. The figure had vanished. ‘I knowed ’twas a spook—reckon we'd better uckachee, afore wuss comes on ’t,”’ he muttered, oarsely. pbs Yender comes the boys—mebbe they've see’d it, As Yellowstone Jack spoke, the other two trap- pers came up the valley, their faces a strange, uneasy expression. It was plain that they — had’ seen the spirit, and knew not how to account or **D’y’ see the thing go?” faltered Hoosier, glancing nervously around, as though half-expecting to be- = the mysterious being suddenly reappear at his Ww. ** No—how was it?” Yellowstone asked. * Jest nat’ally riz an’ flew up to the top thar—an’ you kin see, a mountain goat couldn't find toe-holt whar she went,”’ prep eng om the Hoosier. ‘She — made a few signs, like she wanted to do some- ’ an’ then faded away like smoke.”’ ‘“*T reckon she wanted us to mind what she says on this bit o’ hide—look at it. Mebbe you kin make somethin’ out o’ it—I cain’t.”’ “It’s ‘ritin’—I know that much,” slowly replied Heely Hank. “I’ve kerried more’n one bit 0’ sech like, what Old Sam slung off, when we war skrim- ’ wi’ the Greasers fer Texas, But I cain’t read sech sign—it’s a blind trail to me,”’ 2 old man was powerful on them things, but somehow I never was no gre’t shakes at it,’’ feebly muttered Hoosier. ‘Br ‘twas beaver now, or red-skin—but never mind. Ill keep it anyhow. Don’t reckon it kin. hurt a feller, ef 't did come froma t. Idon’t reckon she means us any bad, or she’d ’a’ sent this arrer a leetle closter. It’s Blackfoot, though—them ne eee ally the kind we mountainee men call "n ” ‘“*Reckon she meant we’d better puckachee!”’ “You kin make tracks fer the pee gry jest ’s soon’s ye feel a mind, Brindle Joe—but this beaver don’t go ontel he kin see both eends o’ the trail. oe Apa you hear me/ I’m goin’ to find out what that critter meant—what she wants, and who she is, er hair, floating free in the light breeze, a if it takes my last ante. Yallerstone Jack sais it— which is me!” The men stared at him inmute amazement. They could not understand this kind of co e. Not one among them but could have faced death without a tremor, but this was different. What could skill or brute courage avail against a spook—a spirit? **Mebbe she is a spook—I don’t know. They sa there is sech things in these parts. But I b’lieve she’s a good one, then. I don’t think she'd do a feller any real hurt. Anyhow, I’m goin’ totryiton. Ef she’s human, she’s bound to leave some sort o’ trail ahind her, an’ I kin find it by goin’ over the ridge, I reckon, You fellers kin stay here; ef I don’t come back—” “Ef you're bound to go, Yallerstone, I'm wi’ ye. Brindle Joe mayn’t be much a’count, but he don’t go back on a pardner,”’ Geer said the trapper, though his cheek was still a8 e. **'We’'ll go in a caboodle, then,’’ added Heely Hank. “Five moun men ’d orter be a match for the devil hisself, let alone a teenty spook like that.” ‘‘ Le’s pitch this car’on into the bresh, then. Thar ain’t time to clean up the muss, but I don’t reckon any one ‘ll come this way afore we git back,’’ ob- ~~ age Yellowstone Jack, setting the example him- self. A few moments later the little party had passed out of the valley, reaching a point where the south- ern ridge might be scaled by an active, quick-eyed, sure-footed man, and then they peered curiously down into the adjoining valley. In this valley they had first noticed the spirit, who had as suddenly epreers’ without leaving any trace behind her, vanished as completely and een as though she had dissolved into thin P. The surroundin too, were well calculated to arouse the superstition of the trappers. This valley had a reputation second only to that popularly known among them as the ‘ Devil’s Kitchen,” near Eustis Lake. Many an unlucky trapper had jour- neyed thither to “‘make medicine”’ at the pore Springs: many a fabulous tale was solemnly told o the strange sights witnessed, of the maddening temptations resisted, of the marrow-curdling com- bats with spirits, spooks, goblins, and even with the master of evil himself. Implicit belief in these wild legends and traditions is a genuine mountain man’s religion—too frequently his only one. "Twould be a bold man who would openly doubt these marvels. “*T cain’t see any livin’ critter, onless *t mought be them black-tail,’’ muttered Yellowstone Jack. ** Look beyond the white mound, yender—I kin see somethin’—looks like a two-legged critter squattin’ in the shade o’ that bush-pine,”’ added Brindle Joe. “I cain’t match eyes wi’ you, pard—on’y wish ’t I could. But ef you say so, I reckon it’sthar. Come— we kin git down under kiver o’ this bresh easy enough, an’ then creep up ahind the mound.” Now, that they had fairly entered upon the adven- ture, not one of the party betrayed any hesitation. Yellowstone Jack led the way, the others close at his heels. Nor did they neglect any of their usual precautions, but kept a keen look-out in every di- rection, not kno what moment might bring a score of vengeful, bloodthirsty enemies upon them. The bottom of the valley was almost devoid of living vegetation. All around were scattered little mounds and miniature hills, of a dirty, ashen-gray hue, that afforded the trappers sufficient cover, thoroughly skilled as they were in the art of stalk- ing. ere and there tiny jets of foul-smelling vapor issued from the cracked surface. A dull, subdued rumbling sound came from beneath their feet, and more than once the crust seemed to shake beneath their stealthy footfalls. Cautiously Yellowstone Jack skirted the curious, truncated cone, that seemed pepe pg of a dirty soda, and peered around the base of a broken column. A little cry of wonder broke from his lips. He saw two strange figures runni swiftly toward him. One was wap gg the spirit they had seen upon the face of the cliff. e other appeared to be an old woman, wild and weird-looking, her long snow-white hair floating behind her, her limbs only partially protected by chee, os nena skins. The two strange beings ran swiftly on until nearly opposite the trappers. Then they paused upon the brink of a large boiling spring, which, in past ages, had thrown up a careous deposi orm a ““curb”’ nearly ten feet above the level. Upon this “curb” the two women now stood, g upon the astonished trappers, who had not moved a muscle since their 1 2 eames The eldest being grasped 1 - bow held by her com- panion, and notched an arrow, as she uttered a few words in a shrill, cracked voice. Though evidently addressed to them, the trappers made no reply. In- deed, had not they been so bewildered, they would not have known what to say, since the words were strange to their ears. ““Go—leave this place—the Queen of the Boiling ae warns you—beware how you anger her! uttered the younger being, in the clear, musical voice meg had heard before. “The devil, more likely!’’ muttered Chavez, too much of a daredevil for aught to cow him long. “I have one silver button left—I’ll try her with that.” “* Hold! don’t fire, man—they’re wimmen!” cried Yellowstone Jack, st up the leveled rifle, though not in time to save the shot, though the sil- ver button whistled far aboved the head of the witch. His hand was still grasping the rifle, when a flash of light seemed to blind his eyes, and he started back, Chavez wang 2 his hands and fell back, without a groan, a feathered shaft transfixing his t. = God! look yender!” gasped Brindle Joe. With a shrill, eldritch scream of laughter, the h raised her hands and then plunged headforemos into the boiling, bubbling caldron. And the next moment the tre being followed her sen Sg A sullen splash—nothing more. Then all was sti CHAPTER IV. A FRIENDLY ENEMY. A cry of horror broke from the lips of Frank Maynard as the faithless pistol failed him. <A cloud seemed to pass before his eyes. Fora moment it seemed as though he would have fallen from the oo as his tortured horse plunged blindly for- ward. The terrified animals that were attached to the democrat still dashed on, each bound carrying them still nearer the frightful death that now seemed in- evitable. With an effort of will almost superhuman, May- nard crushed down the horror that well-nigh para- lyzed both hand and brain, and once more leveled his revolver. The chance was a faint one, A wound, unless po ems gf fatal, would only precipitate the catastrophe. Yet it was the only chance, } ‘*God have mercy on them now!”’ These words burst from the young man’s lips, as the hammer fell, for the second time, with a sullen click upon the tube.. He knew not that his weapons had been rendered useless by the driving rain that had heralded the terrible pouderee. And, knowing that he was powerless to aid, he covered his eyes with his trembling ‘hands. The sharp, spiteful crack of a rifle saluted his ear, even above the howling of the tempest, and, amazed, he uncovered his eyes. At first he could distinguish nothing save a confused, struggling mass, rendered indistinct by a flurry of snow, borne upon the win of an eddying whirlwind. Then, with an arm o iron, he checked the mad career of his animal, just in time to keep it from stumbling headlong over the upset democrat. at had happened? When the maddened horses were eg may! just about to plunge down the canon—when less than a dozen yards of level ground divided them from the abyss, a single rifle-ball whistled from behind a a bowlder hard by, and tore its way through the near horse’s brain. With one spasmodic bound it fell dead, dragging with it its mate, whose hoofs a ap on the carpet of snow and ice. e light wagon was whirled sideways, and over- turned. The occupants were cast out with violence. The off horse scrambled to its feet, and, madly lunging, sought to free itself. The traces held rm. é light wagon was jerked along. The dead horse was moved a few feet. One of the insensible women was rudely twitched around, so that her head pointed toward the abyss. It was Minnie. She had managed to secure the reins, and, winding them around her arms, had tried to check the runaways. Even now, while uncon- scious, her fingers closed tightly upon the leath- ern lines. And the terrified plunging of the shriek- ing animal threatened to drag her over the escarp- ment—to death. Thus matters were when Frank Maynard checked his horse and leaped to the ground, But he was too late to rescue his loved one from the danger that threatened. The animal gave one terrific bound, then stood upon the very edge of the precipice, rearing, pawin the empty air furiously with its fore-feet, as thoug striving to retreat from a danger just r ed. One iron-shod hoof oy kate The frost-eaten rock cracked and crumbled beneath the strong pres- sure. A wild, almost human shriek of horror and fear broke from the | of the animal, as it felt itself overbalanced. And then, with a mighty leap, it sprung from the crumbling rock, far out over the canon’s depths, dragging with it the dead horse, the wagon. One more scream—blood-curdling, intense- = orrible—and then came a dull, crashing sound as the branches of the trees below gave way beneath their weight. Upon the very verge of the abyss stood a tall, the other. clespitig a bright kuihe; Ming beck tone e other clasping a é, ung back to re- store his balance. eo As the horse leaped to its feet, a man dashed out from behind the bowlder, dropping his still smoking rifle, drawing a keen knife from his belt. He reach- ed the insensible maiden, just as the mad animal plunged into the abyss, and with a swift stroke sev- ered the reins that bound her wrists as his left arm d round her waist. But it seemed as though s bold adroitness would be all in vain. The terrible strain upon the reins had dragged the maiden to the very escarpment, and, though he managed to check his rush just in time to avoid in- stantly following the horse, the stranger found that the lifeless weight upon his left arm was dragging him down—was surely destroying his balance, despite his utmost exertions. In vain he strove to leap back from the yawning abyss. An invisible power seem- ed restraining him—to be drawing him, slowly, sure- ly down to death. With every muscle strained to the utmost tension—he could not take the single — that would carry him back to life, to safety, Instead, he was oo way. His tall form was slow- I bowing, bending further over the dizzy depth, ed down by the helpless body that hung so quietly upon his arm, Without that, he could have easily saved himself. By simply straightening out his arm, all would be well. And pee she was dead. It might be a corpse that he held. She was so pale, so quiet. Not a muscle moved. Surely she could not be alive? Should he give his young life for a stranger—and that stranger one whom his sacrifice could not save? That these thoughts should have flashed across GOmilcooOoks (E@)