Pulp Fiction, 1878 · page 12 of 16
Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 48 — page 12: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1878. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
12 i a a third revolver, and covered his remain- oes. ut he needed not to shoot. With a howl of superstitious dismay, both dropped on their knees, holding up their hands for mercy, and Antelope Eye disdainfull beckoned them forward, with his cocked istil. Then, for the first time, he withdrew his foot | from where it had been planted during fight, on the neck of the prostrate dastard, Cat’s Th e whole thing was over in a quarter ofa minute. One instant was seen a group of sullen, defiant Utes, doggedly grasping their weapons, then came a sudden movement, a succession of red flashes and sharp reports, men falling like nine- ai a silence; and a white figure standing in nt of a group of horses, motioning forward two abject, crawling Indians to his feet. Levrette and Chevrette sat on their horses gazing at Antelope Eye, in silent wonder and awe-stricken admiration. The quiet, graceful boy had become, at a bound, the greatest war- rior of his tribe. Single-handed, he had slain twelve men, and conquered three more. The Blackfeet at the end of the valley, while Salty amazed, were equally silent. Only Bear er, the tough old warrior, who had just staggered to his feetin spite of his fearful wound, uttered a faint of triumph. It was in the midst of a deep silence, that An- telope Eye motioned to the two cowards to drop their pistols, which they did. ** Draw your knives,” he said, sternly, ** scalp the slain, and bring me the scalps here.’ With humble a rity, but shuddering all over, the unhappy wretches complied with the order, and delivered their tale of scalps to e implacable Nemesis, developed in the beauti- ful boy. Without a word, Antelope Eye shot them both down at his feet when their task was done, and then gave a disdainful kick to the prostrate Cat’s Eye. “Up, dog of a Ute,” he said, scornfully. sa p your brothers, and lay all the scalps at my feet, tied in a bundle.” Quive from head to foot, the dastard ri and was confronted by the awful fury that now at last began to work in the features of the ig oa “* Ha, 6 Skunk, Toad of the Utes!” hissed Antelope Eye. ‘‘Crawling reptile of the sage- brush! do you remember me now? When three Ute braves found one boy of the Echipetas they stole on him in his sleep, robbed him, and turned him out naked on the prairie, in the snow, to die. But he found his way home, trap- rabbits with the hairs of his head, to feed on the way, and swore vengeance on you and your accursed tribe. They are gone, but you live, and shall live, till you pray for death, swine and toad of an unclean mother!”’ - As he spoke, he spit on the degraded chief, and turned away. Picking up the bundle of Ute scal Simp in an instant, ashe spo i! Soe pendly Levrette: " task is done. A warrior offers the scalps of fourteen Utes, and claims his reward. The maidens will enter the lodge of the young- est chief of the Echipeta.” Levrette bowed her head low. ‘*The choice remains with the chief,” she said. ‘*The maidens of the Echipeta will keep their word, for Antelope Eye is a great chief.’ Here a deep, guttural voice broke in on the co y. Itwas that of Bear Killer, who stood close by, bearing with the wonderful physical fortitude and strength of an I n, a wound that would have left a white man helplessly eG on his back. ‘‘No longer Antelope Eye,” said the veteran, vely. ‘‘Myson is no morea nai He has Fatah a man among men. From henceforth the tribe shall know only Waw-skeen-ska— White Thunder, the chief; for he was white as the mountain snow, and deadly as the thunder of Wahcondah.” And as White Thunder the young chief was known from that moment, not only in his own tribe, but among all his neighbors. . White Thunder it was, who turned disdain- fully away once more to the knee Ute, crouched humbly at his feet, his eyes imploring- ly fixed on the young chief, while his quivering hi for sage p off your clothes, coward,” said White Thunder, sternly. ‘‘ A coyote should not wear the hide of a warrior. Strip.” Without venturing on an expostulation, the abject Ute complied with the order, throwing down his clothes with servile haste. Eye’s manner c the | _ off, stripped to the skin, and evidently dreadin White Thunder sprung on his horse, and beck- oned to the Blackfeet at the other end of the valley. A number of them ran forward, obey- ing his gesture as if he had been their head war- chief. is recent wonderful exploit had im- ressed them with such admiration, that, for the ime, White Thunder was omnipotent. Under his orders, the wounded Bear Killer was placed upon a litter, hastily constructed of lances and blankets, and carried slowly away to the exit of the valley, to undertake the home journey. Then the remaining chiefs mounted their horses, and for the first time the degraded Ute, Cat’s Eye, was brought into public notice. There he stood, or rather crouched, a little way the worst, from the ominous silence preserv about him, up to that time. White Thunder pointed at the shivering cow- ard, such a rare exception to his stoic race, and said to the chiefs: ‘*Behold the dog that stole on a boy of the Echipetas in his sleep with three do e him- self, stripped him naked and turned him out. A warrior dies by steel and bullet. A dog is lash- ed to death. 1 have said.” It needed no further hint. The Blackfeet. like all Indians, carry short, buffalo-hide whips, with a pointed thong that cuts like a knife. At the words of White Thun- der, they uttered a yell of mingled scorn and fierce delight, and galloped down on the unhap- py wretch. Cat’s Eye knew what was coming. Goaded to desperation, he turned and fled like a deer to the ig 3s entrance of the valley, hoping to reach it before pursuit could ie 5 im. Behind him scoured the Echipeta, yelling like a pack of hounds, and soon came up with him. Then the cruel sport commenced, as one chief, measuring his distance with pitiless accurac caught the flying Ute with the end of his ] taking a te piece of flesh out of his back, and giving way to another who repeated the opera- tion. They did not attempt to intercept his flight, but before he reached the narrow can- on, he had received twenty-five such lashes, under each of which he howled piteously like a whipped dog, and his back and thighs were cov- belo § with blood. The torture, however, seemed only to lend him additional strength, for he ma to gain the canon at last, where only asingle horseman could follow him, and up its rocky bed he , where the proud chiefs disdained to follow him. Laughing scornfully at his cowardice, they rode slowly back to where White Thunder calm- ly awai them, and took up their return march to camp. CHAPTER XVIII. PATIENT AND NURSE. In a large, dimly-lighted room, deliciously cool in contrast with the hot, suffocating glare of the sun outside, lay stretched on a couch, the form of a young man, his face pinched, pale and haggard, a beard of a month’s growth on his chin, his ong at in tangled curls spread over the pillow. He lay there, y seeming alive as he had lain ever since the hot delirium an ts of his wounds had subsided, three days ore. Few would have recognized in that sallow, haggard face the once dashing, handsome young -rider, who had been left for dead at the gates of the convent of Santa Clara, a month since, The nuns had hurried out when the Indians were ype and picked him up, under the direc- tion of old Padre Junipero. ey had brought him into the infirmary, thinking him dead, and intending to lay him out and give him Christian burial | It was only when he was covered with the sheet, that the little novice, Francesca, who had been remarkably quiet and pale, never uttering a word during the whole scene, stole to his side, ery roped uttered a loud shriek. the nuns were No one had ever known the child to exhibit excitement before. Usually, she was remarkably quiet and placid. At her cry they all came running back, and were amazed when told yay panting and trembling with excitement, that the young cay. alier was alive. She could hear his heart beat. Old Padre Junipero was appealed to, as the medical authority of the convent, and he, after a long and careful examination, pronounced that Chiquita was right. The youth was ye but, from the wounds he received, could not probably live more than another hour or two. But here again La Chiquita amazed her Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. a friends. She actually had the soureg? to tell Padre Junipero to his face that he didn’t know what he was talking about. ‘‘How can you, father, when you have not examined him? His clothes are all clotted with blood, but you have not seen his wounds. He must not die. He shall not die! [ll nurse him. Quick, cut off his clothes, and wash these wounds. You ought to be ashamed to let a fel- low Christian perish before your eyes.” | And La Chiquita, trembling with excitement, and somewhat resembling an enraged dove, stam her little foot and began to cry. Padre Junipero looked as much aghast, as a shepherd might if a small lamb were suddenly to butt him in the stomach. He looked confused, but at once busied him- self to restore the insensible youth. The older nuns, most of whom had been mothers in their time, and had taken the vail in old widowhood, hustled La Chiquita away, to her amazement, for the child was absolutely and entirely innocent as to the reason of their con- duct, and then cut off the clothes of the poor wounded lad, and washed away the blood with great gentleness, while Padre Junipero examin- ed the wounds. ! We have said that the old priest was the medi- cal authority of the convent, but in fact his knowledge was of the slightest, and chiefly con- fined to such simple remedies as he had picked up during a long mission life among the Indians, from their old medicine-men. In treating the injured man, he probably did the best that could have been done, which was to bind up his wounds, pour some spirits down his throat, and leave him to nature for recovery. The wounds that Dick Darling had received were many and severe, but there was one cir- cumstance in his favor, that no bullets had lodged. From the short distance at which they can been fired, every one had gone entirely through limb or body. Only one had penetrated the body, and that one was in the right breast; there were holes through each arm, and one through the left thigh, besides at least a dozen gashes, where bullets had pk he up the flesh in various va, Cut and hacked to pieces, as he was all seeming, no vital part had been touched, owing to the suddenness and rapidity of the short con- test, at the full speed of galloping horses. e mail-rider had succumbed to loss of blood and the shock of so many bullets striking him, and there seemed to be but little chance of life for him, so completely exhausted was he. The flery aguardiente, or brandy, which was poured down his throat, was the first thing to revive him. Under its influence he choked and opened his eyes, and tried to speak. _ The old priest gently bid him lie still, and the poor fellow, after one wondering glance at the nuns, closed his eyes i 7 From that moment he was watched over b priest and nuns alike, with the. most kindly soli- citude, and as day after day went by, and he still lived, even Padre Junipero began to enter- tain hopes of his ultimate recovery. As for La Chiquita, the child, from that first moment in which she had found his heart beat- ing, seemed to be quite confident and content. When every face was gloomy, she insisted on watching at his bedside, giving him the sou and brandy that were s wake ad from time to time, by spoonfuls, and so lit- - erally keeping him alive from day to day. The old nuns, who were growing lazier and more selfish than the enthusiastic novice, were quite willing to resign the post to her. She was not yet a professed nun, and had six months of her novitiate to go through. Moreover, Fran- cesca was the daughter of a rich haciendado, who had lately died, leaving her an immense fortune, and to get that fortune for the convent of Santa Clara, it was n to make the Senorita Francesca de Ribera into a nun, which could only be done by keeping her in good tem- per. Hitherto, the little girl had been an enthusi- astic devotee, longing for the day to come on which she should e the vail. If the nuns made the convent dis ble to her, there was no telling how soon she might leave them; for they were well aware that her family, and es- pecially her brother, who owned half the haci- enda, were by no means anxious to see their Seed property clutched by any religious So La Chiquita found herself, by common con- sent, installed as head nurse over the poor wounded mail-driver. Not that there seemed any danger to her in the fact. Contrary to the o romantic notions on the subject, a man desperately wound- NOON KS eoim G