Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 295 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

ee - me em me ee —-_- . ~~ . ee. & ee —— Se = oer em Ge ch cnetlitemncemsnatierenennenncentenmnnieyatasignestys that hardly tive minutes had passed when their eLemies were upon them, |, The soft t bad deadened the sound of horses’ feet, and the best eyes were unable to penetrate the darkness to any considerable dls- tance. Suddenly, as if they bad emerged from a cloud,a number of Lorsemen were seen, sweeping down on the camp with savage yells, accom- { panied by the flashes of firearms and the sing- ing of bullets, The rifles in the camp answered rapidly and effectively; but the rush was so swift and cer- tain, that some ot the horsemen dashed in over the earth barricade at one end of the camp, and there followed a hand-to-hand fight about the wagons, The first man over fired his pistol right in the face of John Hackett; but his horse stumbled the next instant, and he. was shot down by Phil Henning. Mabel Vintrey had been protected from chance shots by a pair of mattresses; but she rose up in her excitement, and a large man, mounted on a powerful horse, seized ber arm as he dashed through the camp, and attempted to swing her up on his horse. But the dog Rip, who had been waiting for a goed chance to ‘ catch on,” leaped and fastened us teeth in the borsem n’s arm. With a curse he dropped the girl, and Bert Otis, who bad just settled one of the raiders, caught her and drew her away in tims to pre- vent her from being trampled to death. The tall horseman turned with leveled pistol ‘‘Here’s your dose, you young sneak!” be shouted in a voice that surely had nothing of the Indian about it. ‘That settles your ac- count.” He fired, and Bert Otis fell on the ground by the side of tine swooning Mabel. But though John Hackett and Otis were down, the men who guarded the camp had the best of the fight. Their rifles had done sharp work as the SOeIay came on, reducing the number of the'r assail- ants, and those who got into the cam,» were so huddled ether that their fighting chances were limited. Phil Henning, when he bad shot down the first man over, dashed at the others like a tiger that has tasted blood, empt his revolver with wonderful quickness, and David Darke, cool and calin, mads his shots count as if he were shooting at a mark. The two trainmen were also active, and the tall horseman, when he had struck down Bert Otis with his single shot, saw that the struggle was over and the game was up, He called to his followers, and those who were able to do so galloped away with bim into the darkness, By this time the wind had blown the clouds away, and under astarlit sky the victors were uble to appreciate the defeat of their foo and to take vote of their own losses, CHAPTER VL THE UNKINDEST OUT OF ALL, Pui HENNING grabbed bis rifle, and was hastening to send a parting shot after the fly- ing raiders, when his attention was attracted by Mabel Vintrey and Bort Otis, who were ly- ing together on the ground. 8 dro per by the side cof Mabel, and hastily examin er for a wound, but found none. He quickly procured a vy of water, which he dashed in her face, and she revived, sitting up and staring about as 1f she were dazed. Then ber gaze rested on Bert Otis, who was ‘ing lifeless at her side, the blood oozing from j ig head, and ber piercing screams brought all ver friends to her. ‘‘ He is dead!” she shrieked. “ That brave and noble young man who came to save us and risk his life for us is dead, and he died for me!” ‘* Merciful Heaven!” exclaimed David Darke, as he knelt by bis friend. ‘The dear boy is ri How will I ever break this to his mo- ther ‘Not yet, Dave,” came falntly from the lips of the dead man. ‘Lift me up, old man.” Darke raised his friend’s head, and called for water, with which be washed the blood from the wound, discovering that the bullet bad glanced off from the skull, leaving an ugly cut. ‘* He er Ia he had saved ms,” murmu Bert, © but shot a bit too bigh. I feel, though, as if a mule me, Da to the young man's i a wh sive Te Foe wen noopanin fees Gee soon on og | a friend was looking for adhe. Fearless Phil. Se eee ee eee eee ww — 9 — men, aud followed him to where John Hackeit's body was lying in the trench. The leader of the train had been shot through the head, and life was entirely extinct, The lad threw a blanket over the body, un- willing that Mabel should see it then. ‘* And this,” he said, spurning with his foota dead man lying near, ‘‘is the scoundrel who killed him, and whem I shot. He looks like an “4 oe pi sure as you live, Hank, it isSam ur t was, indeed, Sam Spurl, and it was the general opinion that he at least bad perished none too soon, with his vengeance incomplete, There were two other bodies inside the camp, clothed in Indian garb, and with their faces mainted; but a sce investigation proved them >» be unmistakably white men. ‘Tt was nothing but foolishness for them to try the Indian dodge,” said Phil Henning. ‘They would have done just as well to play their game openly.” **They should at least have held their tongues,” remarked Otis. ‘'l know well enough that the man who shot at me was Arkapsaw Pete. His voice gave him away.” It was necessary to inform Mabel Viutrey of her uncle’s death. Otis and Phil broke the sad pews to her as gently as possible, and led her to his body. The poor girl burst into a passion of tears. ‘‘What will become of us now?” she despair- ingly asked, when her sobs allowed her to speak. ‘*‘My poor, dear uncle John is dead, and bow will I ever get to my father?’ ‘“You have some true friends left, Miss Vin- trey,” said Bert Otis. ‘‘ Mr. Darke and I will stand by you while there is life in us, and so, I am sure, will the others.” ‘* And here is one man—for I will never again call him a boy—” said Darke, laying bis hand on Phil’s shoulder, ‘‘ who can be depended on, and whose courage and skill are such as any rrown man might be proud of. Come, now, Bort, and let me dress your head.” The body of Joha Hackett was buried, and the grave was marked; but those of the marauders were treated with far less respect. At an early hour in the morning the train again took up its tedious journey toward the west, all the party saddened by the absence of him who had been left behind, and by the thought of the difficulties and dangers that might yet be in store for them. Mabel was inconsolable at first, breaking out every now and then in fits of weeping; but Bert Otis and Phil were at her side, doing their best to cheer her up, and sbe gradually re- covered her spirits, making much of Bert's big dog, whose teeth had done her such good ser- vice the night before, The day passed, as the PERTIOUs day had, without any alarm or sign of danger, and when the train came to a halt, toward the olose of the afternoon, it bad reached the broken ground near the hills that rose gradually toward the west until they formed part of the great moun- tain range, ‘Tl Gin’t guess how we-are to find or make a wav for the teams from this on,” said Phil Henning, as he sat on his horse and sadly look- ed westward, “ But, if we gét through the night safely, some of us must scout around and try for a trail,” “Tf no other way offers,” suggested Darke, “we can skirt along the edge of the hills until we strike a trail to the southward,’ The camp was lecated, as that of the previous night had bean, on high and open ground, and was similarly fortified, except that deeper trenches were dug, and higher earth barricades made, at each end. The cattle were driven into the cottonwoods that lined a smallstream, and the horses were concealed in the timber further away, Two septries were stationed on the outside, and the rest of the tired party fell asleep, for- getting for the time the terrible scenes they had passed through and the dangers they expected to encounter. es in it was Rip that aroused the camp, and at about the middle of the night. He was on the north side of the camp, and his attention was turned toward the stream near which the cattle were tethered. All strained their eyes and ears to look and to listen, but could neither see nor hear any- thing in that quarter. Yet the big dog’s excitement coptinued, and bis warning bark spoke plainly of danger of some kind. " Rip, knows his business,’ remyrked Bert Otis. “He fooled me yet. _ sare that there is somebody prowling about,” - - 0+ om me 5 oof © rete wst EE Oe a _—— ota i es ey ell a la A A te ye * | think there mast be something the matter with the cattle,” said Phil Henning, as he picked up his rifle, ‘‘I will go down there and rquint around,” ‘I will go with you,” said Bert. ‘*No, Mr. Otis. re may be some risk in it, and it is not worth while for more than (1u of us to run the chances. Two could donon«:e than one can.” ‘“Neitber of you shall go, if Ican helpii,’ declared Derke, ‘If our enemies are thae they coula easily shoot you down from tle cover of the timber, and then they would mi he no bones of c:. pturing the camp, ecan efferd to love anytbing rather than our men, ano cir only chance is 10 keep together and defend tle caminp and Miss Vintrey.” Mabel added ber entreaties to David Derke's arguments, and the young fellows si ffired themselves to be persuaded, After a while the dog ceated his warning bark, and all was quiet until morning. The worried PANY were thankful that thcy bad not been attacked during the night; but none of them bad the faintest hope that their difficulties were at an end, As soon as it was light enough for the purpr se Phil Henning and Bert Otis set out for the stream, ser ding Rip ahead as a scout, The deg gave no warning of danger, and they went direct to the place where the cattle had been left. All were one! They bastened up the stream to the place where they had corcealed the horses. Not a boof way: left! All their means of locomotion, except their own legs, bad been spirited away in the night. They found themselves set afoot, in an un- known region, with no certainty of anything but enemies. CHAPTER VIL A FLANE ATTACK, Ar tbe foot of the mcuntain range lay Fiank Vintrey’s cattle ranch, a fair e e of bill and dale, forest and pasture land, The bouse, a commodious and respectable wooden buildipg, stood at the edge of a grove, and a few large trees scattered before it gave the ap- peerance of a Jawn, The sun was just about to rise, but all con. pected with the ranch were early astir, and the proprietor, stepping out on the broad covered porch, looked up for weatber signs. The morning was clear, and the day promised to be fine, Frank Vintrey was a healthy and hearty mid. dje-aged man, with nothing striking in his ap- geet or character, except tbat he bad plen- y of pluck and determination, He had taken up the land that formed his ranch with the inten- tion of establishing a large cattle farm, and neither the dangers of tte early settlement nor the temptations of mining speculation Lad caused him to vary from that setUed purpose. As soon as he considered the country suf- ficiently safe and himself sufficiently r- ous be bad sent for his motherless daughter and his wife’s brother, | Frauk Vintrey was baa a bright, checrful, matter of-tact man, but this morning bis trow was clouded and his mind was troubled~ snd all because of a dream. As his foreman, Stephen Hersey, c me nar the porch Mr. Vintrey beckoned to bim. “Come here, Steve; I have something to tell you,” be said, and the two men seated ili m- selves on the hiae-bottc med cbairs, ‘Thad astrange dream last night,” said Mr. | Vintrey, ‘‘and it troubled me more than } like to own up to,” Steve Hersey happened to be a strong Leliever in dreums and omens, and he was natural y cn- rious about this dream, so Mr. Vintrey went on and Panga it tery ; xf e ‘* You know that I am expecting my brother- in-law and my daugbter from the East. Tam looking for them every day. I dreamed that they were in great trouble at a place you and I know well. You remember where we had a we difficulty last fall about some stray steers(” a “es,” ‘‘ That is the place. I dreamed that the train was attacked at ni mtd white men as Indians, that John Hackett was ki and that the leader of the attacking party was Ar- kansaw Pete,” ‘D> you know him?” asked Hersey. “No, T never saw the man, to my knowl edge. You know that for a long time I have preferred to go further for my supplies rather ® mv be | than to trade in Quartzville, while rowdies mila there, and I have not been near the town, hut Gomirecboo! (E cS