Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 487 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

‘* Lordy, boy, I’d ’a’ died in an hour or so more, if you hadn’t come; but I'll last longer now, ‘““Yer see [ve been shootin’ wolves, for | didn’t want ter be eat up while alive.” ‘* You got some red game, too,” said Ned, al- luding to the three Indians. ** Yes, I rid inter this timber, and they jump- ed me onexpected; but though I is called fer, they went ahead oO’ me, ‘Thar is three of ’em, Ned, and one o’ ther ponies I kilt. ‘‘But you take ther critturs, and mine, when I is gone.” His voice had become husky, and so Ned gave him more water to drink, and it revived him. Then he asked: ‘‘Can I give you something to eat, Pete?” ‘““No! don’t waste yer pervisions, boy, for yer is a long way from camp; and it are no use ter feed me with grub now,” Still Ned made a fire and prepared a cup of coffee, broiled an antelope steak, and tried to give it to the guide to eat. But Spitfire Pete was too near death’s thresh- old to swallow food, and, after the excitement of seeing Ned had passed, he began to sink rapidly. ‘© Ned, you know my brother’s name and ad- dress, in Boston, so write him how [ died, and send him the papers you find on my body; but the money keep for me, from I wish to leave you something, boy.” Night had now come on, but Ned threw wood on the fire and it blazed up brightly. Then he caught the guide’s horse and Indian ponies and lariated them out, and coming back sat down by the side of the dying man. The wolves howled mournfully off in the tim- ber, and it was certainly a sad scene for the youth to be an actor in; but he bore up well, grasped the hand of the old guide, heard his | | last whispered farewell, and then knew that he | twas alone with the dead. CHAPTER XIIT. THE BOY SAMARITAN. Ir was a sad, a bitter experience, for poor Ned, there alone with the dead man whom he had learned to love as a father. Once he had said to old Spitfire: ‘‘ Don’t you think I should call you father, for you are like a father to me?” ‘*No, boy, call me Pete, or Spitfire, for those who had the right to call me father are dead,” was the answer. There, with the dead, with the wolves howling about him, the boy sat for an hour or more. Then he aroused himself, fired several shots into the pack of wolves, to scatter them, and throwing more wood and brush upon the fire, soon had a cheerful blaze. He knew his danger, if roving bands of In- dians were about and should see the firelight, so determined to work with a will. He had a hatchet strapped to his saddle, and, seeking a gully began to dig down into it as rap- idly as he could, and it was not very long before a grave shaped itself out of the soft earth. From the body of the old guide he then took all \ that be found, in the way of papers, money and arms, and placed them in his saddle pocket. Then he wrapped the body in the worn blan- kets which poor Spitfire had carried fora long time, and placed it gently in the grave, which he rapidly fijJled up, and trod down hard, placing layers of poles which he had cut, over it, to pre- vent the wolves from digging out the earth. When he had filled in the dirt, he brought logs, sticks and brush, which were to be found in abundance in the timber and piled them up over the grave. These he set fire to, with the remarlk:: ‘‘This pile will burn for two or three days, and the earth will be baked so hard the wolves can never tear to pieces the body of poor Spit- fire.” Having completed his work, Ned collected the horses, Pete’s and the two Indian ponies, and yvode away from the timber. He had gone scarcely a mile when he caught sight of a dark object moving against the sky. Instantly he halted and watched carefully, | while over a rise of the prairie passed a number of forms, and they were moving slowly toward the motte where the fire burned so brightly. ‘+ Indians!” muttered Ned. He knew his danger, and thet the neighing of one of his horses would betray him. They were only a hundred yards away, and were advancing toward the timber. ‘“Pm lucky I Jidn’t stay there all night,” said Med. and he felt his knees quivering against his saddle-skirts as he counted the Indians, | Nevada Ned, the Hevolver Ranger. Silent, and darkly visible only, they passed over the rise of the prairie, and he counted twenty-one. When the last had gone he gave asigh of deep relief, and then rode on once more, going at a canter, the led horses following readily. “They can’t trail me by night, I guess, and Ill be a long way off by night,” he muttered, and he held on steadily, feeling a regret that his own good horse had not had a longer rest, for he had pushed him hard since leaving the mining- camps. It was just dawn when he came to a clump of timber, and knowing that there was water near the horses pushed on rapidly. As he dismounted, Ned gave a sudden start, for there, not ten feet from him, lay an Indian. It was nota dead Indian, either, but a live one, crouching on the ground, with knife in hand, as though ready for a spring upon the boy. Ned got his rifle round and leveled in an in- instant. But he did not pull trigger, for the Indian made no hostile demonstration, only remained in that same attitude. Ned saw that he was a Ute, a few of which tribe he had seen as prisoners, and ke knew them to be the bitter foes of the whites. That ne was a chief he knew by his superb rig, and why he did not spring upon him Ned’s quick eye at once discovered, for there was blood on the ground, and he saw that the red-skin’s leg was broken. Instantly he lowered his rifle, put aside his belt of arms, and held up his bands in token of peace between them. The Indian laid his knife down, but within reach, and said in broken English: ‘‘ Pale-face young warrior brave.” ‘‘T wish to help you, for I would not harm a wounded Indian,” answered Ned, and he walked boldly up to the red-skin. ‘‘ Me great chief; me Ute; name Bad Cloud; leg broke,” said the red-skin, by way of intro- duction. ‘‘ Where are your braves?” asked Ned, glanc- ing about him anxiously. ** All gone; pale-face fight Ute camp; wound Bad Cloud; braves fly, leave me.” Ned then looked at the Indian’s leg and saw that it was broken by a bullet, and had evident- ly been done early in the night just past. He gleaned from the Ute that he was chief. of a band of half a hundred warriors on the war-path, and their camp had been surprised by United States cavalry. He had been wounded, as had also his pony, and had made his escape, his horse having fal- len out on the prairie half a mile distant, when he had crawled to the timber, and was making for the spring when he saw the youth approach- ing. His bow and arrows he had lost, also a rifle, which was with his pony, as be had no ammuni- tion for it, and he certainly expected Ned to kill him. ‘‘ No; women, children and sick folks, I am not bloodthirsty toward,” said Ned, and he helped the red-skin to the spring, and, after staking the horses out, set to work to dress the wound, It was an ugly wound, but the chief stoically told Ned how to search for the ball, and under his direction it was found and extracted. Then gathering some herbs which Bad Cloud polnted out to him, Ned madea bandage of them about the wound, and then strengthened the leg with splints. He then sprung upon an Indian pony and rode | off to where the chief’s horse lay dead, and brought away his rifle and trappings, after which he built a fire and cooked breakfast, With his own supplies and those of Spitfire Pete and the Ute’s, Ned had ample provisions for some days, and he made up his mind, anx- ious as he was to get back to the mining-camps, he would not desert the wounded Indian. Thus the day passed away, the horses rest- ing and getting plenty of juicy grass and cool water, and the boy and the Indian seeming to become good friends, as the hours went by. Lying with his leg placed in the easiest posi- tion possible, the Ute watched every movement of the boy, seeming to hardly realize that he really meant well toward a foe, As for Ned, he felt little dread of the red- skins now, for if any visited the timber they would doubtless be Utes, and he could not be- lieve that after all he had done for the chief he would allow his braves to harm him. As the sun drew near the horizon, Ned washed and dressed the wound again, placed fresh herb-leaves upon it, and gave the chief a sub- stantial supper, sharing his coffee with him, a te ee ee + we ee — + a a em | ‘“ Young pale-fate great brave—Bad Cloud his friend, he friend of Bad Cloud,” said the chief as night eame on and Ned, putting out the fire so as not to attract attention from any one that | might pass near, lay down to sleep, CHAPTER XIV. DEFENDING A FOE. It is said that the Indians are natural sur- geons and medicine-men, and certainly the skill which the Ute chief had shown in directing Ned how to dass his wound, and the herb-leaves he had applied, were of great good, for the next morning the inflammation was not so great, and Bad Cloud said that he suffered Jess pain. ‘‘ What boy have do with Bad Cloud now?” | asked the Ute, after he had eaten the hearty breakfast which Ned had given him. ‘* You can’t ride, chief?” éé No. ” “Tf you could I would take you to your people.” ‘* No take chief to pale-face to kill?” ‘‘No, I would not do that, unless I caught you in a square fight.” ‘Take Bad Cloud to his people, yes®” ‘IT would if you could ride; but as you can- not, I suppose I can only stay here and take eare of you until you are able to go,” ‘* Tt long time.” ‘* Yes, a month, I tear, perhaps longer.” ‘*'Yes, long time.” ‘‘ We can do nothing else.” ‘¢ Me tell.” ‘Well, chief?” ‘¢ Make travois, for Indian pony yonder.” Ned did not fully understand, and, in his limited English, Bud Cloud explained that the Indians carried their sick and wounded, their little children and the baggage on travois. Under the direction of the chief, Ned cut down two long saplings, trimmed them of the preaches and leaves, and flattened off the large ends. He then made a harness with the Indian lariats, to fit a horse, and attached it to the small ends of the poles. Some seven feet from the small ends of the poles, he puta brace, three feet long, and an- other near the larger ends, Cutting small sap- lings, an inch or two in diameter, he laid them upon these braces, like the slats on a bed, and tied them there firmly. Then he placed the Indian’s blanket and tra yings updn it until he had made a comfortable hon upon which he aided the chief, placing him in a position that was very easy. Into the shafts with the harness he put one of the Indian ponies, which he had brought from the motte where Spitfire had died, and with the traps and arms packed upon the guide’s horse, started off on the trail to the Ute camp, the chief telling him how to go, The other Indian pony was led behind the travois, to take his place in the shafts when his comrade was tired. Thus the strange cavalcade started off on the march, Ned riding ahead to lead the way, the dead guide’s horse following as a pack-animal, then the pony drawing the travois that held the wounded chief, and the other Indian horse bringing up the rear. It was slow traveling, and but a dozen miles had been made when night came on, and they went into camp in a very comfortable place. _ Ned did not for a moment neglect the wound- ed Indian, but dressed his wound most careful- ly and was glad to know that he kad suffered no pain from the journey. he next morning at sunrise they started again on the marcb, Ned hoping to reach the foot-hills bv night, where he trusted they would find some Ute warriors, to whom he might yield up their wounded chief. As they halted at noon, after fifteen miles having been made, Ned’s keen eye saw objects in the distance he did not like. They were upon the banks of a small stream, and in the shelter of some willows; but the trail led near, and those he beheld, far out on the prairies, were horsemen, and coming directly toward where they then were. As they drew near, Ned was rejoiced to find that they were whites, while the Ute seemed correspondingly oppressed, saying bluntly: ‘¢ Pale-face kill chief.” ‘* No, they won’t,” was the firm response of the boy. ‘‘ Yes, boy don’t know.” Ned, however, did not anticipate trouble, and as the party drew near he recognized Trailer Harry, the guide of the train, and saw that he © had with him a dozen miners, all well mounted and armed. eee a OL ee ee SN eee a NS eee —E————EEEE Se