Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 376 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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— a But the native caution of his race made him =P down the an retort which came to his lips, an the first spirit of the craft which was to make him @ great scout and guide came to his help, as he said sae ; of y, it’s peace, in coorse, Scott. I ain’t no fool, to want to fight a hull camp. Put up yer shooter. We hain’t got nothen’ to quar’! abaout, as I know. Sectt looked doubtfully at him; for there was something in the ignorant, brutal nature of the farmer that made him hesitate at giving up the ad- vantage he held, while he carried a revolver, and Joe was unarmed. “That’s all right,” he said. ‘‘But don’t ye be talkin’ ag’in’ the Saints no more, or itmou’t be bad ye.” Then he turned away to his own fire, and Joe, with a heavy heart went to that of the Gatbelles, whom he found already at their supper, with the paprephy of people who know little and care less or what isgoing on around them, if it does not af- fect their happiness for the moment. The Gabelles had got into the habit of making their camp at a little distance from that of the Scotts, and keeping by themselves, chattering French to each other, and it was to them that Joe naturally turned for consolation, in his new trial. He sat down by old Gabelle, who was superintend- ing the cookery of a pot full of soup, and asked him in a low tone: ‘* Air you gwine to turn Mormon too?” Old Gabelle did not turn his head, but kept on stirring the pot, and whispered, under his breath: “ Ohut! Tais toi. Dey listen, all detime. No, I vill not, if I can help it; but, mon Diew, vat can ve do? e are far avay from de forts, and de Scotts are toomany. Ve must go dere, and do as ve are made to do, or get keel.”’ ‘* Have they told you that too®” asked Joc. Gabelle shrugwed his shoulders. ** Dey do not care to tell me mosh. But dat man dey call deacon, heis bad man. He vill keel any man dat et in his vay. Did you not know it? e look as if he have no gunall de time; but he carry de istolee under his black coat, and he gif von to tt. Gareatoi! Take care!” CHAPTER VIII. A PROPOSAL IN FORM, Tue revelations of the Frenchman made Joe very uncomfortable, as he thought over them. He was all alone, as far as he himself was concerned; and had made up his mind to escape, but the fact that the poor Frenchman was in the same pickle, with his good-natured wife and all the children, made Joe pause, before he thought of going away from them. He had confidence that he could get off himself, at night, and probably find the fort, which he knew existed some hundred miles back on the trail, by traveling at night, when the Indians were not likely to follow him. But to do so, would be to leave the children crt the mercy of the Indians, hovering round the train, and he had too much faith in the merciless nature of the deacon to doubt that, if Joe left the caravan, the fate of its members would be hastened, whatever it was. Why it had been spared so long for his sake, and what was the reason, he could not yet tell; but the way the deacon had spoken to him was kind, if not éentreating, and there was some reason for the tone he had adopted. Thinking over all these things, Joe whispered to belle: “ W'ould ye dare to run?” The poor Frenchman sbuddered. “No. mon Dieu, no. Dey vould catch us, Did you not hear of de Angels?” This was the second time Joe had heard the words, and he said: “Yes, Jim told me of ’em but I never heard of ’em before. What do you know?” Gabelle looked round timidly. | The Scotts were at work at their supper, and no one was looking that way. , ‘*T tell you,” he said, quickly, under his breath. “TI do not know vat dey are; but dey keel all de mans de Prophet tell dem. Dey are on de track all de time, and no man can tell ven dey come, ** Are they Injuns?”’ asked Joe. “I do not know; but dis I know, dat de deacon, as he call himself, is de ‘captain of de host,’ as dey callit. Oh, mon Diev, dat ve nevair had seen him. It vasabad day, and he vill nevair leave us, vile dere is vomen in de party.” Joe looked over at the other wagons. “Do you mean that those women in there are gwine to become Mormons, all of their own free will?” he asked, incredulously. Gabelle shook his head. “Dey do not know yet. De deacon he tell de mans onlee, and tell dem to keep it from de wo- mans. Dey vill not know till it is too late, and dey are in de hands of de vat dey call Anges. Ah, mon Dieu, I call dem diahles !”’ The r man seemed to be overcome with the terror of the idea, and shook his head dolorously, as he went on stirring his soup. Presently the hoarse voice of old Scott came from the other fire, calling out: “Helloa, Gabelle. what air you sayin’ to that man? Don't ye know he’s a Gentile, and not one of us. You'd best keep your tongue from him. Ef he don’t like the company he’s keepin’, he kin git up and git,” Gabeile shuddered, and answered, in the whining tone of one who fears to offend: : ‘*Monsieur Scott, I vas onlee telling him how to ete LL LLL LLL ALLL LL LL LL et = LLL LRA LA LLL ett Se California Joe’s First Trail. a make de good soup, not’ing more, parole d’honneur. Vill you haf some? It is ready now.” Scott scowled. ‘* No, don’t want none of your darnation French stuff. Give me a venison steak, and you kin haveall the soup you like to make.”’ Then, to Joe, he bawled, in a tone of indescribable insolence: ‘ “Come over, hyar, Gentile, ef ye want to have supper. If ye don’t, then git aout of the camp.” oe heard him, and the young fellow’s blood boiled at the tone adopted. It was the first time that the Scotts had shown him the hostility the deacon had undoubtedly been instilling into them, by his artful counsels, But the very insult, passed on Joe, made him all the more careful that he should not put himself into the power of his enemies, as the Scotts and the deacon now undoubtedly were. Affecting to laugh at the tone of Scott, he rose, and came over to the fire, saying: ‘Why, sart’inly, ef you want me to take grub with ye. Remember that I took my fu’st at your fire, over on the Kansas. I’m allers willin’ to eat my share. But why in the dickens didn’t ye tell me ye was goin’ toturon Mormons? / ain't got the least objections to doin’ the same myself,”’ he words seemed to make an instant change in the looks of the whole family of Scotts, for the old man growled in a mollified way: “Oh, well, ef ‘hat’s the way ye talk, I ain’t got no objections nuther, But ye’ve got to pass the orjecl, the same as the rest of us, ye know.’ ‘“*The what?” asked Joe, puzzled. ‘‘What they call ¢he orjecl—the trial, ye know. I dunno what it is, myself; but the deacon says as haow it’s a terrible thing, and any man that goes through it, won't never go back on the church,” said Scott, who, in his ignorance, wished to instruct the new recruit, and felt it difficult to explain the scripture phrases by which the deacon had pictured the initiation of the Mormon neophytes. * You shed have told the deacon ye was ready to j’ine, and he’d ha’ told ye.”’ Here Joe, whose busy brain had been working at a scheme by which he hoped to get out of the toils he was in, observed: ‘* And haow d’ye know he didn’t, Scott? I’ve b’en foolin’ ye all this time to find ef ye was a reei Saint or not. I were talkin’ to the deacon a as you come up, and I s’pose ye don’t know thar’sa hull grist of Injuns in the wood over yonner, where he went in. e give me the road fur the next week, and told me haow to find the pass whar we're gwine to see Deseret, Naow, arter this, 1 want ye to un- nerstand one thing, Mr. Scott, and that ain’t two. I'm the guide of this aoutfit, and ef you don’t be- have civil like, J°7l leave ye, to take keer of yersclves in the wilderness, and git out of the way of them — as best ye kin.”’ is news produced an immediate effect on the Scotts, who had begun to think, in the religious ex- altation produced on their ignorant brains by the wiles of the Mormon apostle in disguise, that they were able to take care of themselves in the wilder- ness. “Oh, good Lordy! Injuns! Yedon't mean that, really, Joe, do ye?” esked the father, with a shaking voice. ““T do mean it, and ef ye doubt it, ail ye’ve got to do is to go over to that wood, over yonner, and ye kin see fur yerselves,’’ replied Joe, tranquilly. ‘‘I ain’t partick’ler, myself, as to haow I’m killed; but they say the Injuns roasts all tha’r prisoners alive. I kin git up and git as soon as ye like, Mr. Scott, and you kin take keer of the gals, as you're a full-fledged Saint naow, and I’m only a Genrile.” The news of the presence of Indians had changed the spirits of the Tennesseeans considerably. They had had no intimation of such a thing from the deacon, though he had told them often that his church exercised a great control over the tribes in the vicinity of Deseret. Had he been present with them, they would have relied on him entirely to protect them; but he had left them, and California Joe was the only person who knew what had become of him, So old Scott. changed his tune at once, and said: ‘*T didn’t mean nothen, Joe; but youtalked ag’ in’ the church, and that riled me, ye know.” ‘* Then, arter this, ye’d best leave them alone that knows more’n you do, or mebbe you'll git into the wrong hole,” remarked Joe with much assumed virtuous indignation. ‘“‘T'll have you know, Mr. Scott, that the deacon told me as haow he wanted me fur sutbin’, and it’s ny opinion he wants to make me one of them Angels, you was tellin’ of, a while ago; and ef ever I git thar, you’d best look aout haow you talk tome. You hyar?” And Scott was so subdued by the rating he had got, and the fact that Indians were near, that he made no reply but a meek ‘ Allright,’’ and went at his supper, while the young hunter went back to the fire of the Gabelles, and staid there, all the rest of the evening. He noticed that, while he was speaking to the fa- ther of the Scott family, the women had been lis- tening to the quarrel, and that they had the look of people who were hearing something new to them, at they knew, if anything, of the p ses of their lords and masters, in taking them to the Mor- mon settlement, he did not yet know; but he had an idea that they would not take as kindly to the new dispensation as did the men. Women have, or are apt to have, a slight preju- dice against a plurality of wives, and the Scott wo- men were probably no exception to the rule. He sat at supper with the Frenchman, who seemed to be pleased at the way he had taken down the in- solence of the ignorant crackers in the other camp, 7 and was talking idly of nothing at all, to distract his attention from brooding over his troubles, when one of the Scott girls—the best looking of the two Sey Lucinda—came over to the fire, anu aske im: “Say, Joe, what’s this we hyar abaout Mormons? I want you to unnerstand that we’re jest as good as you air, ef you ain’t a Saint, and that we don’t want no one to interfere fur us, If it’s the will of the Lord to seal us to the captain of the host, we’re jest gwine to be sealed, and *tain’t none of your busi- ness. Thar!” This was another mystery to Joe, who had never heard the word “seal,” used in the Mormon con- nection, before. And moreover he had been rather sweet on Lucinda herself at times, and the tone of the girl hurt him. ‘Why, Miss Lucindy,”’ he said, looking up, “I didn’t go to say nothen’ disrespectful to you, of all eople in the world. I dunno what you mean by be- in’ sealed, and ef the deacon wants to seal ye all, he’s welcome, I’m sure.”’ Lucindy seemed to be slightly mollified by this speech; for there was a tone of coquetry in her voice as she said: ‘*In course, ef there was any one else more like what me and sis thought we’d sy et we'd hev @ choice. The deacon told us (ha/. But you'd have to. j'ine the Saints, and go through the onjcel, the same as the rest of us.” Here was an advance with a vengeance, but Joe did not know what she meant, in his ignorance of the Mormon jargon. ‘** Waal, Miss Lucindy,”’ he said peaceably, ‘I ain’t ot nothen’ tosay ag’in’ thesealin’, Ef you want me Oo Bit sealed, I s*‘pose I'll have to git it done.” Miss Lucindy colored slightly as she arranged the strings of her sun-bonnet. ‘“*T dunno as I oughter say that much, Mr. Joe; but ef you was willin’ to take good keer of us, and prom- ise we shouldn’t be parted, me and sis, we kinder thought it mought be a good arrangement. Ye see the deacon’s a mighty nice man; but he ain’t what 6 call aovr Kind, and then they say he’s got more’n e kin attend to, and he ain’t over anxious to git sealed to no more, jest naow, so he says; and, ef you’re agreeable, Vll'tell Mat, and we'll git the seal- in’ done, as soon as we git to Deseret.” Joe, still innocent of what she meant and in the supposition that the “sealing” was some religious ceremony, which he had made up his mind to grin at bees till he could get a chance to escape, mere- y said: ‘** Very well, Miss Lucindy, then that’s settled.” And with that he turned to his faithful pipe, with- out which he never was happy: even at that early date, and began to fillit, while Miss Lucindy went off to the fire of her own family, and he saw her talking to Martha Scott, while the expression of the whole family altered for the better toward him. But the stars were out by this time, and Califorvia Joe saw that it was time to get to his watch, if in- deed there was any use in watching, when he knew the camp was in the power of the Indians at any time they chose to come out on the occupants. He removed his old mule a little distance from the fires, to a place where it would be sheltered from the light, and he could keep a watch on the wood where he had seen the Indian. For a long time anxiety and suspense kept him awake, but at last nature triumphed, and he slept soundly, not to wake till the rising sun warned him it was time to break up the camp, safe as yet. CHAPTER IX, THE FIRST INDIANS, A WEEK had passed since the night when Joe and the Scott caravan went into camp in the Middle Park, and the little trio of wagons had halted again, a hundred and twenty miles further on, by the banks of a stream of which no one knew the name, at the foot of a range of mountains which ran from west to east, They were on the south side of this range, and had come to a place where it ran into another range, that came in from the south, and formed an angle, at which a pass existed, marked by a curious cleft hill, like a saddle, as the deacon had told Joe when he left him, No Indians had been seen on the road, since the time when Joe had seen the warrior come out to show himself; but the young hunter, green as he was, had become convinced that the caravan was being followed and watched by some one, though the thick-witted Tennesseeans had no idea of the fact, and were congratulating themselves that the deacon had saved them from the Indians. But Joe, a! nninstructed as he was in prairie lore had a good head and a good pair of eyes, and ha not left ‘is opvortunities unimproved, while he had been on “ie °oad from Kansas. He had learned to distinguish the track of a rid- den horso from one that was running wild, and had noticed many tracks on the trail, as he rode ahead of the wagons, which he thought must come from Indians. He had already found out that wild horses, of which there were still many on the plains, had the habit of roaming along at a walk, in an irregular mass, frequently stopping to feed, while ridden horses were apt to go in files, and at a faster pace. More than once, on the road from the Middle Park, he had come on a feather, dyed of a different color from nature, and knew that it could only have come from the head-dress of an Indian. ] The savages, whoever they might be, dic not seem to have taken any trouble to hide their signs, and Joe concluded that nef traveled in this careless way, on purpose to let him know that they were around. comicbooks.com | : }