Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 5 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

10 have a regular hunter’s breakfast, done up brown. I suspect you’re not used to sich; but then it’s the best we can do. It'll drive away hunger, and give us backbone and brace up our courage.” Having washed his hands and face in snow, the young hunter took his knife and cut off some thin slices of the choicest part of the quarter. These sliceS he laid upon some clean, red coals to broil, and soon the Palace was pervaded with the tempting odor of the cooking venison. Grace watched the whole process, simple as it was, filled with curiosity and aelight. Joe hav- ing assured her that they were in no immediate danger, she began to feel the pangs of hunger, and with her young protector enjoyed the nov- elty of their situation, if it might be said that it could be enjoyed at all. When the meat was done to a crisp brown Joe removed it from the coals on the ends o rt eta sticks, and passed a share of it to race. The maiden ate with a keen relish, not only to show her appreciation of her young protector’s kindness, but because she was hungry, and the tender, juicy venison tasted delicious and nourishing. After breakfast was over, Joe cut the rest of the meat into thin slices and sandwiched them ~~ between layers of snow in a niche in the wall. “Tf you get hungry, Miss Graceful,” he said as he did so, “ you can help yourself. I may be gone a day and night, and so I'll bring you in some more fuel, also. If I was only sure that I eould find Captain Howard’s party—” “Captain Howard, did you say, Joe?” inter- rupted the girl, excitedly. ‘Yes, ma’am, Captain Howard.” “Captain Ralph Howard?” ‘Yes, ma’am, the same.” “My God, Joe, can this be possible?’ she ex- claimed, manifesting great excitement. “ Tt’s so, Graceful, by the royal horn-spoons.” “ Joe, I know Captain Ralph Howard,” she eontinued. ‘ He is a very dear friend of mine. Oh, Joe! can you not find him?’ and her brown eyes beamed anxiously, hopefully into the lad’s, “T might try, Graceful; I left him last night near the camp when I went to h'p you. I would ’a’ taken you right to him if they hadn’t been fightin’ off in that direction. But, for all I know, the boys were all killed, for I know they had a hot time of it *bout the time we left the camp. A took of pain and distress blanched the cheeks of Miss Manville; and after a moment’s reflection, she asked: “ Joe, did Captain Howard know that I was in this country?” *‘ Yes: he crept down to the tent, come to think, looked in and seen you. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before; but I’d been down ahead of him, and seen you and the men, and then I prevailed on him to godown. When he came back, I heard him Fred Manning to shoot him, but I don’t know what for.” “Oh, great heavens! this is a worse blow than all, Joe,” she cried, wringing her hands in agony. “T knew Ralph Howard had come West for a season of hunting, but I never dreamed of his being so far West. Oh! what a terrible fatality is this! and where is it to end? Joe, do you think you could find his party?” “1 can try,” was the young hunter’s nse ; “if they whipped the aye they’re probably at our old camp, and [ll find them pretty quick; but if they got whipped, I may never find them, Graceful.” Grace bit her nether lip to keep back the emo- tions struggling for utterance. “Joe,” she finally said, “I will leave all to you; but would it not be as well to find them if ou can: and let Captain Howard know where am? They could help us out of our present trouble.” “T was just thinkin’ "bout huntin’ the boys up, if they're to be found,” replied Joe; “and since you've suggested it, Pll make a run up the river and see what I can find.” ‘Tf you should find tain Howard, tell him to come to me at once, though -it seems impos- sible that it is the How that I know—my friend, Ralph.” “1 }] do that, Miss Graceful; and if I don’t fall into the clutches of them -nosed captors of yours, or the smut-faces of Ishtabaha, I and report to you to-day. And so I guess I’d better inkin’ out.” a May God speed you, Joe,” the girl said. fn a few minutes the lad was ty and turning as he reached the door, he said: ‘*Good-by, Graceful; be a keerful of yourself now, and don’t get uneasy if I don’t peadle’s Half-Dime Library. come back to-day, so good-by—yes, and if it should quit stormin’, Graceful, don’t venture too fur from the palace, else the enemy might find your tracks. Good-by, Graceful.” ** Good-morning, Joe,” She replied. ‘Oh, yes!” he suddenly exclaimed, as another thought entered his mind, ‘‘be careful "bout makin’ too big a fire if it should clear off. You see, the smoke comes out at a hole ’way up in the top of the tree, and it might attract atten- tion. t believe that’s all, so good-by, Graceful.” The young vagabond darted out of the snow- hut, and picking his way through the most open part of the woods—where the storm would soon- est conceal his tracks—he reached the river and turned up the stream. The snow was quite deep and still falling, though not so heavily as through the night. The weather was still quite warm for the latitude and season; and the falling snow was damp al- most as slush, adhering to whatever it happened to touch. Vagabond Joe plunged along whistling as merrily as though he were a veritable spirit of the storm. Now and then a gaunt hun wolf, with its shaggy hair bedrabbled, stole across his way, or a deer went lancing through the storm within easy range. But Joe paid little atten- tion to these, further than to notice whether or not they evinced alarm of pursuit by man. In the course of a few hours the lad arrived in the vicinity of the camp where he had left his friends. s soon as he had obtained a sight of the place, he saw that it was occupied; and in addition to the tents belonging to his friends, he saw that a number of snow-huts had been erected. He had no difficulty in determining who the occupants were, for a number of savages could be seen stalking about from tent to hut, and hut to tent, their blankets drawn about their forms. From his covert, Vagabond watched them for some time; and among the ay he discovered the chief, Ishtahaba, himself. Red Hand was there, also, moving about in all his savage dig- nity. And, finally, he saw a white man among the red-skins whom he readily recognized as the villain Captain Howard had called Dr. Burton Cudmore. Our hero had intended to give the enemy’s camp a wide berth, but, unfortunately, his pres- ence was discovered by a party of Indians who were approaching the encampment from the north-east; and, acting upon the impulse of the moment, he determined to make the best of his situation, and bolting from his concealment, he started toward the camp, whistling as uncon- cernedly as though he were going among friends. His presence, of course, created no little sur- prise and excitement in camp, for Red Hand and his warriors at once recognized him as the author of their troubles in the ‘‘ dug-out” the night before. A little band of excited warriors had soon gathered around him. Some of them lied him with questions; others hurled coward- fy threats at him; while others even dared to lay violent hands upon him. ‘*See here, red-skins,” the lad exclaimed, ‘you needn’t be makin’ so much fuss over my ‘rival. I’m not President Buckanan, and [’'m none of your curiosities; but I’m Vagabond ” “Waugh! big talk—little brave,” said a war- rior. “ Big brave—big run,” Joe retorted, recog- nizing the Indian as one of his captors of the previous night. Doctor Cudmore did not see Joe enter the camp, but when he saw the Indians gathering around some object of t curiosity, he made his way toward the noisy mob. When he saw Vagabond Joe in their midst, he turned to Ish- tahaba, and asked: ‘“ Why all this fuss over a boy, Ishtahaba?” * Ugh!” meg the Se oe ~ Englis rly, but slang well; © Vagabon J oe white hunter boy—he ‘bad pil—strong medicine.” “What!” exclaimed Cudmore, ‘‘do you mean ° om me that that little wet rat is Vagabond oe ‘“‘ Yes, sir’ee, old rosy-nose,” shouted Joe, who had overheard Cudmore’s question. “I are Vagabond Joe; and if I ar’n’t as big as the Ajax Mountains, and got a red light on the end of my nose, I guess I’m not a mouse,” “Well, what are you, anyhow, my little |-thin runt?” retorted Cudmore, regarding him with disdain. “Tm a big boy simmered down into a small one, and you don’t beliove it, why, you needn't, that’s all. But I'd like to know what -yow're doin’ here, stranger.” “T presume. you would ; then, again, I pre- —— sume it’s none of your business,” retorted Cud- more. ‘*But who sent you here to ask such - questions?” % I presume, gineral, it’s none of your busi- ness,’ Cudmore seized the boy by the shoulder, and shook him fiercely. The savages roared with laughter. Then the doctor, Red Hand and Ishtahaba step ed aside to confer in secret. ‘‘He’s a jolly ole rascal,” exclaimed Joe to the Indians, as the white villain turned away. “T tell ye, red-skins, that man could make money if he’d let himself out as a light-house to the Coast Service. That bloomin’ red nose of his’n, well lit up, with condensed fire-water, would beam gayly through the fog and dark- ness. At this juncture a herd of deer, sweepin down through the woods near camp, attracte the attention of the Indians; and some of them immediately started in pursuit. While the ex- citement prevailed, a snowball took Dr. Cud- pre whack, upon the cheek, nearly breaking is jaw. The doctor’s fury and eyes at once gravitated toward Vagabond Joe; but when he saw that individual innocently looking after the fleeing deer, a question arose in his mind as to whether he had been the victim of a practical joke or an accident. At any rate, he knew not who had thrown the ball. s Presently he ed pee Joe and said: ‘Young man, I understand that you were one of a party of hunters encamped here just yesterday.” ‘Well, what of it?’ replied Joe. ‘Come here,” said Cudmore ; and, leading him to one of the canvas tents, he drew aside the flap-door, and gee to the body of a man lying upon a couch inside, apparently lifeless; do — recognize that man, Vagabond Joe?” ‘“ Great mollyhorns! it’s Captain Howard!” cried the young hunter. ‘** Exactly, sir,” replied Cudmore. “*Is he dead?” asks our hero. ‘*Not quite; but he got a blow on the head last night that laid him out for awhile. I ma be able to patch himup and save his life, thoug it’s doubtful. But, see here, Joe,” and he closed the tent and drew the boy aside again, ‘‘do you know where the rest of your party is?’ ‘* Not one of ’em,” declared the boy. ** Don’t lie to me, boy,” threatened Cudmore. ‘* Honor bright, lighthouse,” with an earnest look in his big eyes. ““T want no impertince, sir,” retorted the man angrily, ‘‘or ’lislap your ears. Now tell me, how and when you were separated from your companions?” “Well now, + ae excellency,” replied Joe, scratching his head reflectively, “ that’s very easy told in this way: I was out scoutin’ when the battle began last night, and bein’ cut off from my —— and of a peaceable nature, I shook the dust off of my moccasins and lit out. I don’t want to fuss with the Ingins or any- body else.” ‘ Wasn’t you skulking around that tent, at a certain time last night‘ ‘* Don’t know as I was at—” began Joe. “Answer my question, boy, yes or no,” fiercely. ‘* No!” shouted Joe, then to himself he con- tinued; “not at the hour I was building Crystal Palace for Miss Graceful,” Cudmore scrutinized the face of the boy as a as though he were reading the youth’s very thoughts in the impertinent smile upon it. ‘*T believe you are lying, boy,” he finally re- plied; ‘‘and now I want you to tell me, sir, whether or not, you, or any of your friends, helped a young woman to escape from that tent last night? Some one hel er oe Wein at you the figh t, and I am almost confident can throw some light on that matter. Did you or any of your friends help her away?’ ‘‘ Would’nt I be a fool to tell you, even if it were so? Now tell me that, Mr. Lighthouse?” was Joe’s evasive reply. “T don’t know what any of the boys done last night: but as for me, Ihad about all I could do to wiggle through with my own affairs. If this ere deluge keeps on, I’m goin’ to build me an ark.” ‘{ want none of your witticisms or imperti- nence, Vagabond Joe, or I will teach you some- “ Well, what the thunderation do you want, gp ete mug of corn-sap?” “*f want the truth out of you, and the truth Pll have,” was the threatening response. “S’pose it isn’t in me?’ calmly queried the boy. re There’s a way of instilling the truth into a (E©) EGOMmIlecnoo