Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 278 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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ee | The Three Trappers. 9 ——. “I’m satisfied thet ’tain’t our hide the’r’ a- tearin’,” said Ben. ‘‘Thet’s all right. Let ’em eat, Then mebbe they won’t be se hungry for us. I guess we may ez well drop a few of them while we’ve got the light.” He raised his rifle and was about to fire, but a second thought caused him to lowerit. ‘No, *twon’t do to make them any madder than they ar’, or the obstinate brutes will stay hyar a week but they’ll hey us. Durn a wolf, anyhow. What do they want to chase us for just now?” “Shpose I shoots my cun at dem vunce,” said Jan. “TI shoots fiviff or sax mit one dime, Look; I shoots dat vun over dere.” Jan leaned forward and fired. The charge flew among the wolves about the body of the bear, wounding several of them more or less. At the same time the branch up- on which the Dutchman was sitting broke, and he fell to the ground. The wolves fell back at first, but, seeing only one man, rushed at him on every side, The German then showed that he was brave enough, if need be. The heavy gun was swun above his head, and the iron-bound butt descend- ed on his foes with mighty force. The first brute fell with a crushed skull. Ben Miffin was not the man to see a comrade in danger and not come to his aid. He sprung down, scattering the cowardly creatures right and left. The diversion enabled Jan to get back to the tree. Ben made a last rush at the wolves and then climbed to his perch again, leaving a por- tion of the flap of his hunting.shirt in the jaws of the foremost brute, “‘Git a stronger limb this time,” said Ben, re Don’t fall ag’in; ef ye do, durned ef /’l/ help ye. .uc pack now recommenced the struggle for the possession of the bear. Here and there an old or weak wolf was being throttled and torn in pieces by his comrades. ““A hungry lot,” muttered Ben. “I wish they’d clear out. I don’t want to stay up hyar all night, an’ I ain’t goin’ to. Come, sassies, git done yer meal an’ clear out.” ‘* Penn,” said Jan in a slightly tremulous ' woice, ‘‘ can volfs climb drees?’ ‘*Climb trees, ye durned fool! Of course they kin, If they were in any hurry for ye they’d 7a’ been up thet thar tree half an hour ago. Oh, I reckon yer cat’s-meat now, Say yer prayers, ef ye’ve gotany. I think ye’d better anyhow. It’s the last chance ye’ll hev.” ‘Don’t talk dat vay, Penn,” said Jan. ‘' Vy ou likes to scare a poor Doochman all to bieces? t deils you I don’t like volfs. Dey is got long teeth like nails. Idinks dey pe very hoongry. Vell, shpose I gits to St. Louis once more, I goes ck to Yarmany mit a backet. I not shtays ere.’ ““T judge ye won’t git back to St. Louis,” said Ben. ‘‘ Them chaps don’t look much ez of they meant to let ye, do they? I judge not. Anyway, I’ve got my opinion, and I’! back it, thet they begin to gnaw ye in just ten minnits by the sun. They make short work of a Dutchman.” ‘Don’t I know you, Penn Miffin?. Don’t I know you so vell ash never vas? Dey can’t, climb no more as a pig. You’s a liar, unt you knows you pe aliar. Inever sees a vorse vun.” “Jest wait a bit, my lad,” said Ben. “Tl come to you by and by.” ‘*T’d rather pe licked py a man dan swallowed py a volfs,” whimpered Jan. “TIT fights dem, anyway. I pees not afraid of dem no more ash ou. Coom; vy you no shoots?” ‘‘Shet up!” said Ben. ‘‘ Somebody is coming. Hark!” CHAPTER VIL INDIANS, As he spoke, the wolves scattered right and left, and ran in terror up the gullies at the sides of the The men in the trees re- mained still as death, one from terror, the other from caution. There was 090 reason for the hasty flight of the wolves and the silence of the men hidden in the trees. A band of savages were coming down the mountain pass, admirably mounted, dressed in the gaudy style of the Indian war- rior, with flaming feathers and bearded gar- ments. Each poised in his right hand a long buffalo-lance, which they managed to carry gracefully, without appearing to incumber them. Some of them bore a small shield of buffalo hide, but most of them rather depended upon their own activity than this slight defense. In front of the band rode a tall chief in a rich costume, with a belt of worked wampum thrown over his shoulder and buckles about his waist. He eschewed the lance, and carried instead a beautiful rifle. His figure was commanding, eT LE LT LLL LLL LLL and he had a noble head, a nose cut like Ceesar’s, and a firm mouth. His eye was black and piere- ing. His hair long and dropping on his shoul- ders. By his side, armed in every respect like the elder, rode the boy who had been taken risoner by the trapper on the prairie and hreatened by Jules, The party might have contained a hundred in all, and a single glance convinced the trapper that they were Blackfeet. They pulled up at the skeleton of the bear, uttering cries of sur- rise, for of all animals, they think the grizzly ear the fiercest, and most to be feared. They dismounted and examined the body. The head had been untouched by the wolves, and the gap- ing. wound was revealed, hey crowded together about the body, chat- tering londly, putting their hands into the wound, and evidently wondering what weapon could baye inflicted’ it. Even the chief de- scended and looked at the body. “They have great guns at the big wigwam whieh make a hole like this,” said he, gravely. ‘*This is a white man’s work, _ It is not a rifle.” ‘*Can a white man carry a great gun on his back?” said another Indian, in the dress of a chief, ‘‘I cannot understand. Some medicine- man has taken the life of the big bear of the hills. It is no common gun.” ‘Wah -be-o-win says well, All the white men are great medicine. My race pass away before them like trees before their axes, But Whirling Breeze will not. live long enough to see the work done. While he is. alive, there will be war between his people and the white men,” ‘“Why should we not make peace?” said a chief who had not spokem before. ‘‘ Why should we fight against those who are stronger? I have been to the forts and I have been to the towns by the big water. They have talking- houses which make them, flour and guns and owder. They took me. into these talking- ouses and showed me what was done.. Why not be friends with them, since they be stronger than we?” ‘Peace, Red, Arm,” said Whirling Breeze, angrily, ‘‘ The Blackfeet shall never bow the knee to the white men. They will die one b one, but they will never yield to the, destroyer.” ‘¢ Let us find those who have done this,” said the chief, Wah-be-o-win. ‘‘ We will take their spalts as a beginning.” hirling Breeze gaye a signal, and all the braves bounded into the saddle and rode away down the pass, Ben stretched out his head and watched them anxiously... There were two passes through the hills, and if the Indians would only take the wrong one it would give the whites a chance to run down. and apprise their comrades of the danger, A moment of breathless suspense, and the party turned into the pass leading to the hunter’s camp, ‘It’s all up,” said Ben. ‘Poor Jule is done fer, an’ that young chap Bentley... Come down, Jan. We must get out of the way as soon as possible. The durned thieves won’t be long gutting the concern,” The old trapper helped Millicent from the tree. Jan came down in great haste and fol- lowed Ben’s lead. He turned into the second ass before mentioned, and hurried down it alf a mile. No concealment of the trail was attempted; but at last they reached a place where there was a break in the rocky sides of the canyon and up this went the men, with their uns at. a ‘right shoulder shift,” using one and to assist them in climbing. Ben looked back once at Jan, All traces of fear had left his face, and his compressed lips told of a stead- fast determinayjon, Ben nodded and wuttered to bimself.. Millicent followed them bravely, pale but evidently not from fear. ‘* He'll do; I'll cure him,” muttered Ben; “ an’ the gal is good grit too.” The pass grew steeper. They slung their guns over their shoulders by the straps, and used both hands in dragging themselves up the ascent. They had to stop now and then to assist Milli- cent. Jan was puffing like a grampus. Milli- cent could hardly see why Ben had taken this course. From the spot where they stood they had a complete view of the valley and its oceu- pants, It was already crowded by the Indian band, who were running about at will, peeping into the cabin, overturning camp utensils and snapping the springs of some spare traps which had been left in the cabin. Ben looked in vain for the Frenchman. He had hidden somewhere on the first approach of the savages, and a num- ber of them were scattered up and down search- ing for him. It was clear they knew all about the camp and the number of its occupants. Hentiey. was nowhere in sight, and Millicent be- gan to hope. ‘* They don’t seem to t’ar ae much as vit,” said Ben. “I expect to see the dry bones rattle retty soon. They kain’t help but burn us out, t’s in the’r natur’s, the condemned critters. I wish ’t I hed about a hundred Crows here, I’d make the feathers fly in thet thar company, I would. Durn a Blackfoot!” *Vare pe Shule gone, Penn?” said Jan, ‘‘I not see ‘im noveres. Unt vire ish’ Pentley?”’ ‘‘No more I don’t know, Dutchy. ey’ve got into kiver som’ers. But they'll nose them out, ye see ef they don’t. A Blackfoot is wuss then a hound on a cold scent. Lordy! they ain’t got no chaince! An’ for my part, I don’t see whar they kin hev hid themselves. Thar ain’t no hole that I know on.” “Vat ish de Injun doin’ mit de hoss?” de- manded Jan. ‘‘Shpose dey shteal im?” ‘‘Steal him! .They’d steal the cents off’n a dead Dutchman’s eyes. Ye don’t know Black- feet. Ido. They ain't wuthacuss. I wouldn’t take the offer to buy out the hull tribe ef I eould git ’em for a beaver skin. Not the bull tribe. The’r’ in a state of gineral cussidness thet is alarmin’. I kain’tgoacenton’em, An’ ef they take thet hoss Vi exterminate the hull tribe. Don’t look skeered, miss. I reckon the young man is safe hid.” ‘*T dinks it would pe said Jan, ‘I don't dink it vould pe right to fight mit a dribe. I dinks dey vip us.” “Don’t ye believe it! I notinited myself ca- able of cleanin’ out the entire tribe. I kin do it every time. I kin doit jest ez easy. What's a little tribe of ross to a white human of my mental and moral caliber... Tm ez good as a dozen missionaries, J am, missionary . talks to ’em awhile, an’ they listen tell they git tired, an’ then take bis sculp. . They’d take it before, only they kain’t understand a word he sez, an’ it don’t hurt ’em. Now I cum of a strong fam- ily, an’ that kind of moral suasion ain’t my best holt. I don’t reason with ’em that way.” ‘** How do you do it, Peno?”’ ‘‘T put a ball right through the’r karkidges, an’ then I kin reason with ’em to great advan- tter to keep avay,” tage. They understand what I mean.” ‘ Vhat ef. he pe deaf; Penn?” ‘‘'That’s the beauty of my style. He kain’t resist the line of argyment I hev adopted,.. He appreciates its force, I allow, Don’t ye see?’ Yaw. Kill him unt den talks mit him. Dat ish goot vay!.. L.does him myself pympye, ven L kills an Injun.” ‘‘T reckon .ye’ll hev a chance one of these days. Whatare they prowlin’ roun’ thet beaver- dam for? The’r’ after my traps, the sneakin’ varmints, It'll. bother ’em some to git ’em, anyhow. I’m ruther gocd at hidin’ traps: But Vil mark every Injun in the party, an’ one of these yer days we'll bev a settlement. Keep out of sight. Ef, they see us they’ll never rest till they git us.. Lay low.” ‘‘ All right, Penn, JI dakes care: I no likes to fight mit dem unless I have to; put vat I dinks ish dis: Aff’n’ man ash vas vantto lif so long vat he ean, vill not vite vor his life ven he haf to do it, den he vas von pig vool. I not like to vite. I pees not a vitin’cbaracter. Put off dey cooms, | kills all of dem vat I can, » Dat ish drue vat I dells you.” ‘+ Thet’s the right kind of talk, old man,” said Ben. ‘‘I like thet. It sounds like a man. Don’t rush into danger, but don’t dodge it. Thet’s the way to talk it. Thet’s the way to be sensible. Kin ve see any thing of Jule yit?’ ‘*]T don’t see him noveres,” replied Jan. ‘‘T kain’t think whar he’s hid, or what them buggers ar’ pokin’ round thet dam fer. He kain’t be thar, kin he? Ain’t one of them In- juns goin’ into the water?” ‘More ash vun of ’em,” said Jan. “More ash a tozen, I dinks.” It was true. A number of the Indians had gone into the shy llow stream, and were wading toward the dam, approaching the beaver-but nearest the shore. ne of them approached the opening and climbed up on the dam. An- other followed, and they commenced taking cff the top of the hut. Beavers do their work well, and it was the work of some moments. At last the top was removed, and they stooped together and dragged something out. Was it a beaver? No: but Jules Damand, wko had ensconced himself in the but as a hiding-place. They passed on to the next hut, and in® like manner dragged out Bentley Morris, who had taken refuge there. It was with the deepest sorrow that the party on the mountain saw their ill-fated companions dragged from their places of refuge, amid the exultant yells of the savages, and conducted to the shore. They com 900KS.comM