Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 278 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

6 opinion and I teckon she’s got a devil in her. I hearn a preacher down to the fort tell of a wo- man thet hed seven devils in her, an’ thet the good man cast’em out. Now, ef any one wo- man hed seven such lively devils in her ez the Green Snake hez, then she must hev been a healthy ispale, thet’s all. How gits on the grub, Jule?” ‘Near done, Ben. In five minutes.” ‘All right. Soon as convenient Pll worry down a piece of thet venison. Id like to make a trade with Jan fer this wife of mine. She ain’t no use to me, an’ [ think she’d be just the woman for Jan.” —_— “IT dells you again, I don’t vant no voomans ash vash hev such names ash Hill-a-baloo,” added Jan, ‘‘Schnake—Creen Schnake! Der Himmel, dat ish dreadful! Don’t you talk mit me no more "pout her. I rather gifs you de knife dan marry a voomans like that.” “Wal, I’m sorry we kain’t make a trade,” said Ben, regretfully; “‘raally ers I'd like to sell her to some likely man thet would set store by her, an’ not run away from her in less than two months. I wouldn’t risk a cent thet any man could keep his nat’ral senses an’ stay with her longer then that, unless he was sorter seasoned to it, same as I was. I'd ’a’ been a chief among the Crows now, ef it hadn’t been fer thet.” ‘‘ Is thet the reason you left, eh?’ said Jules. ‘“Ye bet ye! I liked it therefust rate. They never made ms go out on the’r war-parties un- jess I hed a mind to, though I went out offen enough, fer thet matter. Ye see, I’m down on Blackfeet fer more reasons ther one; an’ the C:ows are the nat’ral inemies of them critters. I'd like to extarminate the hull cussed race of them, durn the’r picters!” ‘‘What makes you hate the Blackfeet so?” said Jules. “ll tell yer. ’Tain’t less’n ten "eye ago I was trappin’ on the north branch of the Platte with a comrade of mine, a likely chap as you ever see, Jim Johnson was his name, and the best hearted feller in Oregon. We made a heap of pits, ye bet, an’ wus countin’‘on a lively time at the forts the next winter. Jim hed a gal thar, an’ was alluslettin’ on how happy he’d be when he c’u’d see herag’in, He never did, poor feller. ‘I'd been out to see after my traps, gone nigh on to half a day, mout be, an’ was comin’ home with a load of pelts, fer we hed been lucky all through, an’ when 1 got to the cabin we'd built, thar he lay, with his head split like an egg-shell, an’ sculped. I looked around an’ found Blackfoot signs everywhar, durn the’r hides, I know them, an’ I'll make them pay fer it some day. I promised him then, as be lay thar, thet I’'d avenge bim on the Blackfeet. Mout be I’ve done it; mout be I didn’t. Any- how l’ve got my opinion, an’ I'll back it thet the Blac t are sorry they killed Jim Jobn- son, “Do you know who the men are that killed him?” asked Jules. “Yes. Thar’s only two of them on the'’r feet to-day, an’ they ar’ bound to g° under ef ever they meet Ben Miffin, or else he goes under— and he don’t think he will.” ‘*Who are they?” ‘‘ One’s a big Blackfoot brave they call Whirl- ing Breeze, an’ the other a white-livered cuss who claims to be a white man. Precious little civilized blood he’s got in ‘his veins, an’ that he’s gotis mighty mean, He’s a renegade, an’ I tell ea renegade is the worst of all God’s crea- ures.’ ‘* What’s his name?” ‘Will Markman, They call him by some Indian name. The worst of it is, his white blood shows more then the Indian, an’ he is ez handsome a feller ez you eversee. But he’s got a cruel heart in his breast. God pity bim if I ever meet bim.” ‘Ts he a chief?” “Yes: they like to git a white man on the’r side. 2 lays round yer’ som’ers, an’ does the dirty work of the Blackfeet. That’s his way, darn him. Why, ye iiever did see another sech critter in yer born days—the wust ye ever saw, I tell ye. Makes no more of takin’ a sculp then I do of skinnin’ a buffer. What ar’ ve tryin’ to do now, Jan?’ The Teuton was craning his neck, looking anxious! up the bill. ‘1 dinks I sees a Plackfeet,” replied the other. ‘‘He pees on the hillside yonder.” “ Pshaw, Jan, ’tain’t no sech thing—least- ways, I kain’t see no sech critter myself. guess ye didn’t see nobody.” ‘* Did too, Penn Miffin. Who’sa liar? I sees him over dere py dat bine tree. He vas a pig fellows, bretty near so pig ash a house, I never The Three Trappers. sees anybody so pig ash he vas. I dinks he pe some shiant.” ‘‘ Where was he?” said Ben, anxiously. ‘Over yonder, mit der dree. I sees him. [ dinks aff ye dakes yer gun unt coes to him unt kills him, mebbe it vould pe goet plans.” “Hadu’t you better go yourself?” said the Frenchman, maliciously. “T dinks I hain’t got time,” said Jan, quickly. ‘‘ How can I go ven [ cannot dell vether dere pe any bott dere? Penn coes mit himself.” ‘That’s enuff foolin’,” said Ben. ‘* Jan didn’t see no Injun, [ hope. But we are tired with a long journey. Jule, let us fix some sort of a for the gal. I don’t like thet she sh’u’d ev to rough it like us men.” ‘*You are too kind to me,” said Millicent. ‘‘ How can I ever thank you?” ‘‘ Never mind; you ain’t got no call to thank me ez I knows on. I ain’t gone round gittin’ sech things ez thanks this year. Wait till I ask ’em, Jule, you come yer.’ They had a good supply of extra blankets; these were brought in, and by the aid of two of them, they curtained off a recess in one corner of the unfinished building, in which they laid the other blankets, and apologizing in a homely but heartfelt way for their lack of good accom- modations, they allowed Millicent to retire. It was in the middle of the night when a strange alarm occurred. Jules, who was very tired, bad taken upon himself the post of sentry for the first part of the night, and had stationed himself just outside the building, sitting down at the foot of a tree. The bours crept slowly by, and he dropped off into a doze. All at once he awakened to find himself prostrate upon the ound, with some heavy body lying on his reast which pressed him close to the soil. By the ghostly moonlight he made out his assailant to be the creature which they had met that day. It was making no attempt to harm him, but simply lying upon his breast, its long, heavy hands toying with his throat. Jules Damand was a coo}, bard bad been in danger before now. ut there was something so frightful in the load upon his breast, that for a moment his heart failed him. He lay silent, and put out his hand toward a pistol by slow degrees. The strange thing uttered, now and then, a low, chuckling laugh, horrible to hear. Ben, who lay near the. door of the cabin, heard the sound and stirred uneasily in his sleep. Jules, silent as the grave, allowed his hand to slide along the ground toward the pistol-butt. Even the slight motion he made annoyed the savage brute, and he uttered a sort of lowsnarl. Jules stopped and waited for him to become quiet. He was in an uncomfortable position, flat upon his back, with his right arm lying under the body of the assailant, who grinned and chat- tered at him, and scratched at his throat with his long nails in a playful manner. ‘‘Sacre!” muttered Jules. “If I could only get my right arm free.” He found that impossible; the whole weight of the hairy body lay upon it and fixed it like arock. Jules again _— to feel for his pistol, and laid his hand upon it, when the hairy palm of the Mountain Devil suddenly closed upon it. There seemed to be ee in the touch of the cold steel which roused his hate, for he darted his long nails into the face of the trap- per, and left bleeding furrows from brow to chin. At the same time Jules managed to get the pistol partly free, and made a shot at him in the dark. The creature had some powers of memory; he knew that the ball which had pierced his arm that morning had been accompanied by a sound like the crack of the pistol, and he sprung away for a little distance, and stood licking the blood from another wound in his arm, The report of the pistol had roused everybody, and they came out in great haste, Ben leading the way with his rifle ims hishand. At the sight of him the wild creature bounded away, and bur- ried up the mountain side. It was plain that he remembered Ben as the man who had in- jured him in the morning. He snarled and screamed as he disappeared from view, while Jan stood with chattering teeth and shaking limbs, glaring after the form which was disap- pearing behind the hills. ‘‘ Ach, mein Gott! Dere he ish again. Yow you mine vatI says. Datish ter tuyvel. Don’ you co to say ash it vasnot. Dat ish ter tuyvel, unt no mistake. My prains are a]l hurly-purly. I mos’ deat mit fright.” ‘*Shet up. Don’t ye see the lady?” said Ben. “Sorry to eall ye out of yer sleep, miss, but our friend of this mornin’ hez paid us a visit. Sve how the black brute has marked Jules.” fellow, and a ee ‘(So he has. This is terrible. I can not do any thing to help you, Mr. Damand?”’ ‘No,” said Jules. ‘‘1 shall do very well, They are only scratches.” ‘* Very painful ones, I fear.” ‘* A little. They will soon go away. I shall be satisfied if they do not leave deep scars. You had better retire again. It served me ht. I should have kept better watch, when I had such treasures to guard.” ‘*Can I be of no service?” ‘*No. Not the least, Thank you.” She retired again, and Ben found some of the plants which he had used for Bentley’s wounds that morning, and made a salve for Jules’s face. When this was done, he sent the Frenchman into the house, and took his place as guard, half-hoping that the brute would come back, and give him a shot. Twice during the night he heard its eldritch screams, far off in the hills, but it did not come back. Ben stood on his guard, however, until the night , and. the gray light of morning appeared in the sky. CHAPTER V. TREED BY A BUFFALO. THE soundly, after the visit of the wild thing known. as the Mountain Devil. Millicent came out, blooming like a mountain rose, and drew from the old trapper a compliment on her personal appearance, which brought new roses to her cheeks. To the surprise of every one, Bentley also appeared. ‘‘ You git back to yer nest!” shouted Ben. ‘¢ Don’t you s’pose I ain’t got no better business. than to be a nuss to you? You'll get a relapse ef you don’t take keer.” ‘* No fear of that, old man,” said Bentley, ad- dressing the trapper in the free and easy style peculiar to the pluins. ‘‘ Don’t be troubled. I never felt better in my life. That blood-letting, together with the venison you cook, has done me a world of good. I shall punish your pro- visions tremendously.” ‘‘ Waal, as ter that, ye’ve got a rifle of yer own, I reckin ye kin keep yerself in grub. How dues ye shoot?” ‘* Pretty well,” said Keaton, “Nothing to brag of, you know, but enough to swear by.” ‘“Thet thing tried Jule another hack last night. Ye orter see his face. It looks ez ef a hoss an’ wagin had drew right over it,” ‘*It is a malicious thing.” ‘* You bet. It clawed Jule J spiteful, and don’t make no more of a rifle-ball then you or I would of a flea-bite. Must be powerful tough.” ‘* Powervul!” cried Jan. ‘‘ Ach, goot cracious! I sees him mineself, unt he vash so pig ash a mountain, I vash scart mit him.” ‘‘ You had good reason to be,” said the young man, ‘Now, boys, let us get to work, You must teach us what to do, Ben.” ‘‘ All right,” ejaculated Ben. ‘‘ I’m the boss,. then. I'll give you work enough.” The first thing was to finish their cabin and set some traps. Ben taught Jan and Bentley how to commence, and was pleased to find them apt at the business, Jan did not lack for intel- ligence, and bis wits were sharpening by con- tact with the keen trapper and the volatile Frenchman. The latter needed very little in- struction, for he had received his education in the cold region of British America, under the raring care of the Hudson Bay Company, then in its glorv, but suffering from the enter- prise of the Northwest Company, which had sprung up about this time under the lead of the: enterprising German, Jacob Astor, But, Ben Miffin could never submit to be a hanger-on to. any company, and bis trapping was done on his own hook. The ground he had chosen for his labors was new. As has been said, no other white man’s foot had trod it before. When the but was completed they built a cache to hold their furs and food. This was necessary. The wolves were numerous and ravenous, and would ry any trap of its con- tents ina moment. This last labor completed, they started out on a hunt, Jeaving Bentley in cmmage of the camp, and of Millicent. | ride brought them to the level prairie, dotted! here and there by low clumps of trees, Ben paused, and his quick eye swept the vast plain from side to side. At last his eye brightened and he stretched out his right hand to the east. ‘* Buffler!” be said. They followed the direction of his finger, but: Jan could see nothing. ‘‘T dinks dat ish von lie, Penn. see one puffalo.” ‘Course ye don’t,” said Ben, contemptuously, ‘‘Tain’t to be expected ye kin nohow. Does Eo books An hour’s: I does not: le in the roofless cabin had slept | om