Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 348 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

‘any assistance. =? wnat be heart is too big and too brave. “- 14 if I cen only get Belton in the hands of the au- thorities, it will at least be some satisfaction.” Belton by this time had fired two shots from his rifle at the approaching savages, and each bullet had wounded an Indian. The hunters, in the distance, heard the sound of the weapon, and seeing what was going on, ‘they came to meet Mr. Danton. But they were too far off to render Fireheels Ere he could reload, the say- cages had surrounded and captured him. After securely binding their captive’s hands ‘they hurried off with bim, making good speed in order to escape the hunters, who, although still far off, were fast coming on. Night closed about them ere they halted. The violent storm previously alluded to now was raging, but a careful watch over the pris- oner was kept. In the morning they continued on their way, and soon reached their camp, to hear of the events concerning the escape of Skinflint, the capture of Lona, etc., which have already been described. On seeing Belton, Lorne uttered a cry of tri- ‘umph. ‘* A greater prize could not have dropped into my hands,” he said. ‘““What does my white brother mean?” in- quired an old chief. “‘T mean that this person has perpetrated a horrible murder. Has not my red brother heard of the murder of Bell Danton—the white girl at Logville?” ‘* Think hear of it; but why speak of prisoner as prize to my white brother?” ‘* You should know that that girl was a friend of mine, and that I want to avenge her death. | had lately done so much mischief, _—— Ait was a terrible deed.” ** You think Fireheels did it?” **'Yes, [am certain of it,” ‘Ugh! my white brother make mistake. Fireheels would not kill a white squaw— he would not even kill an Indian squaw. His he Snakes know him to be their enemy, but they can see his heart, and they are not blind.” ‘‘There is every reason to believe he was the assassin,” said Lorne, impatiently, ‘‘and a brutal one at that.” Turning to the old Indian Belton said: ‘‘The Snake tells the truth when he says I did not kill the girl. I would have protected her with my life.’ “Chief,” cried Lorne, “you must give this man up to the white people. They are hunting for him. They want to hang bim for the mur- der, as he deserves. A reward has been offered for him, and you will get it if you give bim to the pale-faces.” “Tt is well. Samodi will have a talk with his warriors. If they agree to what my white brother asks, it shall be done.” A council was at once held. In this council Tamina had great influence. He advised the iving up of the prisoner, and the Snakes final- Ty resolved to surrender him to the whites, in- stead of putting him to the torture, as they had intended to do. Scarcely had they come to this conclusion when the crack of rifles was beard, and an in- dian brave came rushing into the camp, saying that the Snake scouts had been attacked by a party of pale-face hunters, who were coming on toward the camp. “There must be no fighting to-day,” said Lorne. ‘I will go forward, see those bunters, and propose to them not to attack you; but to arrange to pay you the reward and receive Fireheels,” “Good,” answered Samodi. ‘‘ My brother speaks well.” Accompanied by one of the Indians, Lorne walked off and soon met the white hunters, to whom he explained the proposed arraugement. Now it chanced that these hunters were one of the parties searching for the outlaws who They were the same men whom Mr. Danton had met on the day before, after his flight from the sav- ages, and he had advised them to get possession, at all hazards, of Belton, dead or alive. Great, therefore, was their satisfaction when they saw Lorne, and learned from him that there would be no difficulty in obtainin;, the prize, for which, in addition to the reward al- ready offered, Mr. Danton had declared he would pay five hundred dollars more. A few muskets and some powder would satis- fy the savages. The hunters would manage to retain the bulk of the reward. Among the party there was a person who bad joined them that morning, on their way to the camp. He was a tall, sinewy man, as lean as Fireheels; or, Old Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. @ shadow, wearing leggins, a blanket, and an old felt hat with an enormous brim, which had nearly concealed his face, When he saw Lorne coming, he had with- drawn from the band, saying he was going to get a drink of water from a spring, not far off. At length, after Lorne set out on his return to the camp to prepare the Soakes for the ap- proach of the hunters, he rejoined the latter. “Them Injuns is treach’rous,” he remarked, ‘and I thartore think our best plan would be fur only one on us to go to the camp, and return hyar with the pris’ner. Ef they mean to mas- sacre us, Only one will then be killed, which are better than fur all to fall into the apes ‘* But who'll hev the pluck to go all alone in that way?” “Tl go, ef yer like,” answered the stranger. “The risk is worth runnin’, fur they may not mean to trap us, arter all.” This proposal was agreed to. The stranger went into the thicket, and he was soon in sight of the camp. Instead of going on, he crouched behind a tree and listened. Finally, hearing footsteps, he saw Lorne and Tamina pass on their way back to the bunters to tell them that the Snakes were ready to sur- render Belton to them if they would agree to give them in return fifty rifles and as many pounds of powder. The concealed watcher waited until Lorne and the young Indian were out of sight. Then he moved rapidly forward and boldly stalked into the camp. The first person he met was the old chief, Sa- modi. ‘‘T come from the white hunters,” he said, ‘‘ for Fireheels! I am totakehimtothem. They sent me for bim.” ‘‘Our white brother bas gone to tell the hunters what we will charge for the pri-oner and to bring them or their answer.” ‘‘Tam the chief of that bunter party,” was the response. ‘Tell me yer tarms, and we'll see ef we kin not close the barg’in, so as to save time.” “Fifty rifles—fifty pounds good powder. Rifles must be good, too.” ‘‘Lord! Injun, yer goes it pooty steep. Ef yer’d only lower yer tarms a bit.” ‘‘T have said it. Will take no less.” ‘Well, then, I reckin I’ll bev to close with yer, Give me the pris’ner, and yer better send an Injun long with him, too! That white chap yer hev hyar—that Lorne, will sarve fur a host- agei‘fur the safe deliv’ry of yer goods, soon as we git the reward, which, yer see, will bev to be paid to us, fore we kin pay it to you.” “It is well.” Samodi then said something to his men, who soon approached with the captive. Belton looked closely at the person who had come to conduct him from the camp, and re- cognized Skinflint. CHAPTER XVIII. STRANGE DISCLOSURES, THE moment he made this discovery, the young hunter comprehended his friend intended to effect hisrescue. Neither by look nor manner, however, did he show that he knew his con- ductor. An Indian, named Gonok, was summoned to go with the twain. Ashe was a large, powerful fellow, armed with knife, tomahawk and rifle, Skinflint perceived that he would have to make use of all bis strength and agility to overcome such an opponent, When the three were out of sight of the camp, he snatched from the bands of the savage the rifle carried by the latter,and which was the one he had taken from Belton, at the time the youth was captured. Ere the Indian could draw his tomahawk, Skinflint made a blow at his head with the butt of the piece, but the wily Snake, adroitly dodging it, was about to give the alarm and use bis knife, when his an- tagonist squeezing his throat with one hand, dealt him a tremendous stroke between the eyes with his huge, clinched fist, which laid Gonok senseless at his feet. “Thar yer are!” said Skinflint, as, with his knife, he severed Belton’s bonds, ‘‘ Now, off yer go and make tracks that way,’—pointing as he spoke, ina direction where the fugitive would not meet with the party of hunters, As he spoke, he put into the hands of his young friend the rifle he had taken from the Snake. ‘You are not going with me?’ said Belton. ‘No, I hev to go another way,” was the reply. “But I hope to meet yer, ’fore long. Come, streak it, pard, like white lightnin’, fur the secret cave.. Yer’ve no time to lose!” ere ed The youth darted cff,and was soon lost to view in the shadows of the forest. ‘‘ Now, then, fur that poor Injun gal!” mutter- ed Skinflint, as he made his way rapidly toward a mountain which loomed in the distance, In a valley at the base of this mountain, the Omaha warriors had all collected to a 9a for an assault upon the Snakes, the news of the late conflict having been brought to them on the night before, by some of the fugitive braves. Wono had his men ready for the march, when Skinflint made his appearance, “Thought the bunter prisoner,” said the chief. ‘‘ How come here?” ‘‘T was saved by that noble gal of yourn— Lona,” he answered. Having described his rescue, he went on. ‘Arter gittin’ off, 1 skulked about in the woods, and contrived to keep cl’ar of the In- juns. Finally, [came upon a dead Omaha, I tuk off his leggins and blanket, and put ’em on. As these clothes war the same kind that’s worn by some hunter-tramps, I knowed no suspicion would be raised among the enemy by my dress, Well, all at once, I heerd voices, and going to whar they comed from, I bit upon a party o’ white hunters, making a fire for a night-lounge. I soon l’arned that they war arter Belton, who, it seems, had been captured the night before, by some o’ the Snake scouts. I purtended to be as anxious to git persession of him fur the sake o’ the reward offered fur bim, as the rest war, so, in the mornin’ we all went on together, to- ward the Snakes, with my bat pulled so far down over my face that the Injuns would not see it enough to recognize me.” He went on to relate what has already been told, after which he marched with the Omahas toward the hostile camp, the exact locality of which he was now enabled to describe to his dusky companions. By rapid movements the band reached the camp of the enemy an hour later, and, creeping close to it, unobserved, they suddenly rushed to the attack. Surprised by its suddenness, the Snakes made but a feeble resistance. They fled in confusion. Tamina was killed, and many scalps were taken by their foes. Among those who escaped was Lorne, much to the regret of Skinflint, who had wanted to capture bim. Lona was found in one of the tents witb her bands tied. Her thongs were severed, and she was soon among her people, thanking Skir flint for helping to rescue her. ‘“And do you s’pose, gal, that 1 would hev left yer, arter what you did fur me? No, it would not be nat’ral fur me to do that.” ‘* But where is Fireheels?” inquired Lona. “I heard of his being take pris’ner. He not been killed?’ she added, ber dark eyes gleaming wildly. “No, he’s safe by this time in my cave, I reckin.” And the hunter went on to state how he had saved his young friend. A few hours later, Lona left the camp of the Omahas. ‘*T must make sure he safe!” thought the girl, as she burried on, Before night, she reached the base of the cliff, in which was the secret cave. Having made sure there was no spy about the place to hear her, she called Belton by name. At first he did not appear and ber heart sunk within her. Soon, however, she saw him at the opening above. ‘Ts it you, Lona?” be joyfully cried, Then he lowered the ladder and the girl was presently at his side, ‘‘Safe now; Kireheels’ troubles are over!” said Lona, looking up at him with beaming eyes, ‘‘T have escaped the Injuns, it’s true,” an- swered Belton, ‘‘ but | suppose I am still being hunted for by white people.” ‘‘White people cannot hurt,” rejoined Lona, with a peculiar expression in her eyes. “What do you mean? Speak, my good friend; thar’s some meaning, | see, that you’ve not made cl’ar to me?” ‘Tie WHITE GIRL IS ALIVE!” said Lona. ‘How? What white girl? You don’t mean—” ‘*] mean the girl whose name is Bell Danton, and who was thought to be kill!” The young hunter staggered back, and stared wildly at the speaker. ‘*Lona, | hope you are not jesting with me. Thar’s no use of waking hopes, ef they—” ‘Why sbould Lona jest? It is true what she says,’ interrupted his companion. ‘*Where is she? Who, then, was the mur- dered girl? I saw her, myself, The form was | | |