Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 205 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

_ ee ee mem en wee were oe 12 Coming accidentally upon you, and noting your . evident grief, I was prompted to ask if a’strong hand could be of assistance in alleviating the trouble. No offense, I trust?” ‘* Not necessarily, if you are sincere in what you say,” Mrs. Morris replied, a little more as- sured. ‘'I amin deep trouble, and fear I can obtain no relief. 1 have lost my only daugh- ter, and cannot find her. I tracked her to this pes wicked town of Death Notch, but only to find that she had suddenly disappeared.”’ ‘‘Ab! then you are Mrs. Morris, a California lady?’ the Unknown said, his surprise doub- ling, for at first he could form no idea of her identity. ‘* Yes, lam Mrs. Morris, but how could you know that?” ** Because the circumstances of your daugh- ter’s flight to this country are known to me! Your daughter is a guest in my solitary camp in the mountains, and she told me her story. » It was I who abducted her from the tavern, that she might not become the victim of her enemy, the Mormon villain.” ““God be praised!” the rel'eyed mother cried, clasping her hands joyfully. ‘‘ You are sure she is there, safe and well?” ‘*She was, this morning, when I left her there, in the care of her negro companion. Come with me, and you shall soon see her.” ‘* How can | ever repay you for this kindness? You have taken a great load from my heart. How far is it to the place where I can see my daughter?” ‘** Not over a mile, and we can soon walk it. Will you take my arm?’ ‘* No, thanks! L am ars strong and love to walk. Lead, and I will follow. Oh! sir, my daughter is of good cheer, is she?” ‘*Quite brave considering the trials she has pamme through, I judge. Her negro companion lively enough to cheer her up, were she epee disposed,” the Unknown declared, as e led the way up the gulch. ‘** Did she tell you why she fled from home?” **'Yes. IL could well understand her case, for I came near being caught in such a trap once, myself,” was the gloomy answer. ‘‘ This being found standing over dead persons does not always signify that the one so discovered is guilty. e puilty one glides away where the unwary and thoughtless approaches.” The remainder of the journey was finished in silence. Mrs. Morris was busied with her own thouchts —congra.ulating herself on having her cuild in spite of Carrol Carner, and wondering if they would be lucky enough to escape from the moun- tains before he could find and offer them fur- ther molestation as he had promised. She felt that he was capable of any villainy no matter how base. In the course of a half hour they came to an abrupt termination of the gulch, in the face of amighty, towering wall of rock, at the foot of which was a hut of boughs and poles, and in front of that a crane upon which a kettle hung over a temporary fire-place. There was no Visible stir about the place as they approached, and the Unknown quickened his pace. ‘“They must have gone inside,” he said, but his words belied his belief; he scented trouble! A few steps further, and they came upon an ap ing spectacle! ated upon the ground, with his back lean- ing against the tree was Nicodemus Johnsing, with his banjo in his hands, as if preparatory to playing. ut he was stone dead! ‘* By heaven, there’s bad work here!” the Un- known cried, bounding forward into the hut. He came out, an instant later, but unaccom- panied, ‘“Your daughter is gone, madam!” he said. ‘Some human demon has been here and killed the darky, and carried her off, as she is not in the hut. I believe the cursed crazy Dwarf is the author of this outrage!” CHAPTER X. A THWARTED DESIGN. Poor Mrs. Morris again burst into tears on learning her daughter’s fate from the Un- known’s oo ‘¢Oh! what shall I do—what can I do toward rescuing my poor child!” she cried, nearly frantic with her loss. ‘*You can do literally nothing, my dear mad at present,” the Unknown answered.’ ‘‘ It will require a strong, shrewd man to pick the culprit’s trail and discover his hiding-place.” ‘But, it may not have been this Dwarf you speak of, who has done this terrible work. Deadwood Dick’s Doom. Might not Carrol Carner have discovered this 7 eee carried off poor Myrtle, after killing ic ‘‘I judge not. Come! I will show you the way back to the town.” ‘* What! not without my making an attempt to discover my poor lost child?” ‘‘Humph}-you’d have poor success, as I be- fore intimated. The best thing for you is to return to town and get accommodations at the tavern. All that can be done toward finding and Siggy Rei? daughter I will attend to in. person, with as much interest as though she were my own child.” ‘*Oh! thank you, sir, thank you! You area good and noble man!” The Unknown laughed, darkly. ‘Far from that, 1 am afraid,” he said, with a grim smile. ‘‘Still 1 am not so bad a man asl might be, yousee. Come! let us go.” They accordingly left the solitary camp and walked back to Death Notch, through the moon- light. The Unknown accompanied Mrs. Morris nearly to the tavern and then took leave of her, promising that he would devote his earnest efforts to the recovery of her daughter. Mrs. Morris then returned to the hotel, and to her room, which she had engaged earlier in the evening. It was a severe blow, this second disappear- ance of Myrtle, to the poor mother, whose ex- pectancy had been so wrought up by the words of the Unknown, concerning her safety. The following day was a gloomy one. The sky was black with ominous banks of clouds, and a steady unceasing rain poured down, from early dawn till dark. Yet within the cabin of the old chief, Red Hatchet, a cheery fire burned upon the hearth, and the chief and his daughter sat before it, the former seeking solace from his pipe, and the latter engaged on some fancy bead- work. “Tt is a wild day,” the chief grunted gloom. ily; ‘‘such a dayit was that Red Hatchet was driven from his town, and nearly all his braves slaughtered. The thought causes the blood to boil in Red Hatchet’s veins, and his spirit thirsts for revenge upon the pale-face usurpers, more than ever before!” ‘‘Then why does not Red Hatchet go forward and claim his property? Was itnot deeded to him by the Government, in exchange for lands in the Colorado valley, which the Government wanted, because of their golden value?” ‘‘True! who speaks?” and the old warrior turned about in surprise, for it was not Siska who had spoken. A young Indian, in full paint and regalia of a war-chief, stood upon the threshold—a strong, stalwart brave of straight build, and great muscular beauty, but whose every feature and style of dress proclaimed him to of a differ- ent race of red-men than Red Hatchet, who was of a tribe fast becoming extinct—the Pawnees. The stranger was further from the south and his features indicated him to be an Apache. ‘‘Who is the brave whose face is covered with war paint?” Red Hatchet repeated, rising to his feet. ‘*Dancing Plume is no common brave but a great chief of the Apache nation,” was the naugney reply. ‘‘He comes from the arid lands of Arizona into the north, with bis band of braves, to seek a home in the land of game and gold, and also a wife for his wigwam. He hears of the wrongs that the pale-faves have in- flicted upon Red Hatchet, and comes to offer consolation.” “The Apache and the_Pawnees have ever been enemies; why does Dancing Plume then come and seek conciliation with Red Hatchet?” ‘* Because Red Hatchet is alone and unprotec- ted; because his spirit cries for revenge upon the ose die usurpers of his rights, and Danc- ing Plume can avenge the Pawnee’s wrongs. His warriors are all young, brave and strong; they would call it but a play-spell, to clear away the pale-faces.” | ‘‘Your words sound well, but Red Hatchet is not blind. The Apache had an object in thus coming to the aid of a foe of his race.” “Which Dancing Plume does not deny. Red Hatchet has a pretty daughter, whose beauty and goodness, is known widely. Dincing Plume néeds a princess for his wigwam. Red Hatchet is getting old and needs some one to hunt his game. Dancing Plume would take the Pawnee maiden as his wife, win back the town of Se- quoy, and with Red Hatchet dwell there in peace and prosperity.” ~Red Hatchet was silent a few moments; then he turned to Siska. ‘* What docs my child say to the proposition ' wey om of the Apache chief?’ he asked, his eyes gleam- ing at the satisfaction afforded him by the younger chief’s prospectus. ‘*Siska has nothing to say. It was Red Hatchet who gave her to the Dwarf; it is for him to say whether he will break his treaty with Dthe warf, and give Siska to Dancing Plume,” was the reply. ‘“‘Ah! then another claims the Pawnee maiden,” the Apache said. ‘‘A pale-face Dwarf, to whom Red Hatchet ee Siska, if he would carry out Red atchet’s vengeance, as Dancing Plume has offered to do,” the old chief explained, ‘‘Show him to me, and it shall be a struggle for the victory!” was the young chief’s de- mand, ‘If Dancing Plume falls, his braves shall win back the town and present it to Red Hatchet. Shall it be as the Apache bar pro- posed? Let the Pawnee speak?” ‘‘Red Hatchet agrees, but Dancin must settle the difference with his rival!” ‘‘Wagh! Dancing Plume courts battle! Why should he fear a pale-face dog, when from boy- hood he has led at the head of his tribe? The tomahawk shall be dug up; Dancing Plume will go for his braves, and ere another sunrise after the morrow, the war-whoop of the Apache shall echo through these valleys and mountains. Dancing Plume has said it, and he never lies!” Then, kissing bis hand to Siska, he turned and left the cabin, with a firm, stately stride. A bad outlook was there for the town of Death Notch;—a worse fate was promised those who had driven the Pawnees from their village, which an unscrupulous Indian agent hae illegal- ly assigned to them! Plume Carrol Carner prided himself on being a vil- lain, and he had often said it, that the man who could conceive more efficient and novel schemes of rascality than he, was hard to find. The following day—the same that witnessed Dancing Plume’s visit to Red Hatchet~—in the hight of the storm, the Mormon left the town, carrying with him in a bundle, a few articles which he calculated he would need, No one paid any attention to his departure except Calamity Jane, and she concluded that he had decided to quit the place before any trouble occurred. About the middle of the afternoon a stranger rode into the settlement, through the pouring rain, on the back. of a scrawny ‘ooking mule, and dismounting in front of the Poker House entered the bar-room. He was a medium sized man with bushy red beard and hair, and decidedly seedy-looking. He’d not recently visited a clothier, evident- ly, for his lower limbs were clad in dirty, patched overalls, thrust into the tops of a stogy per of beots. The trowsers were in turn met y a greasy red shirt, open at the throat, with accompaniment of a beltful of revolvers at the waist, and a slouch bat crammed down onto the head, until it almost hid from view the eyes. And dripping with the rain through which he had come, this sandy-complexioned gent walked into the bar-room and up to the bar, and gasped out ‘‘ whisky,” in a wheezy tone, as if he had not lubricated his internal machinery very re- cently. Nor did he deign to stop at a mere glass, for no sooner had Poker Jack set the hottle upon tae counter, than he grabbed it up and allowed the contents to gurgle down bis throat! When he had drained it to the last drop, he returned the empty bottle to the astonished bar- tender with a grateful sigh, at the same time planking a ten-dollar gold piece upon the bar. ‘‘ Stranger, thet war powerful bad ile—thar warn’t a hornet nor even a wassup in et, ter give et life,” he said, in the same wheezy voice, ‘but when a feller’s machinery ain’t ’iled et wore run, an’ so [ had to submit to the inevita- e “Well, I should allow et didn’t cost you much of an effort,” Jack grinned, “fer ye did it right cracefully, and et’ll cost ye jest a V.” ‘‘Take ther saw-buck, pard—take et freely, fer I should hev given yer a twenty ef thar hed only been jest one good hornets’ nest in et.” Then, wiping his mouth, he turned SEATeY. te survey the crowd which the pouring rain had driven into the huuse, It was a motley assemblage of rough-shod hu- manity, evil, sinister, and not pleasant to con- template. For several moments he surveyed them, as if making aa inventory of their differen‘ natures; then he mounted a table, cleared his throat, and struck an attitude, as if about te deliver a stump oration. GOMmic | OOO) ~ cS (E (0)