Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 525 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

P| ? ¢ yi ag en a ge . > ae > 4 = . a a » ee wn i, : 3 — — “ Brothers in Buckskin, " ‘“*T fear it is fatal, Scraps, but I can ride that far,” was the calm reply. On toward a large plot of timber they rode, the wounded man seeming to suffer greatly, yet | still keeping in the saddle, while Scraps rode near to support hit. At length the timber was reached, and aiding | side, peering out through his master to dismount, Scraps drew the arrow from the wound and quickly placed his blanket upon the ground, and made as comfortable a bed as he could. The horses were then staked out, and Scraps whar.” ‘*Thank you, Scraps, and God bless you.” ** Dont talk that way, Mars’ Henry, for you makes me feel bad.” ‘*T told you, Scraps, I had a presentiment of evil; but are the soldiers and Indians in sight?” ¥ No, sah, they has gone away over the rise in the prairie a long distance off.” *“* Well, go after the water, my good friend, and if I should die before you return, I may ask that you send the miniature and letters, in my resi tin box at the rancn, back to the address on em, ‘‘Send them by Express line saying how I died, and send the things back to her,” ‘* Pll do it, sah; but Lordy! Mars’ Henry, you is a long way from dyin’, sa). ‘But VU go and git the water, sab,” and Scraps hastened away, his eyes blurred with tears, his broad breast beating convulsively with the grief that filled his soul, for in his heart he feared that his master, whom be dearly loved, had received his death-wound., CHAPTER V. IN HARD LUCK. Go1nG through the timber, hunting for water it was a long time before Scraps could fin Scraps, and write a that I asked you to any. But at last he came upon a spring, and hastily filling his canteens. he rose to retrace his way to his young master, igh: to find him dead. he did so, he suddenly beheld an Indian creeping upon him. Scraps carried his belt of arms but he had left his rifle behind, and hastily drawing a revolver he fired, just as an arrow whizzed by his head. He saw the right arm of the red-skin drop to his side, and he was about to give him another shot to finish him, when with wild yells a half- dozen of red-skins bounded toward him, He saw that they were between him and his wounded master, and that they bad come from tuat direction. That they bad killed the wounded man he could not but believe, and there was but one ‘ 7 ld for him to do, and that was to run for his e, He was ficet of foot, and, to his surprise and delight, the Indians were not mounted he saw. So away he bounded at a great pace. The Indians, like a pack of bounds, started in chase, sending arrows flying about him as he Scraps had alwavs prided himself upon his ruuning and staying po vers. He had never, as u boy on the old plantation 7 Alabama, found his equal among his com- rades, oe - ©) nO was glad to see that his speed was of Lo him. It,oon began to tell and he drew ahead of his pursuers, - Out of the timber he was forced to go, but an- anges motte was not far away, and toward this e ran. _ Looking back over the prairie, he saw that there were just nine Indians in chase. But, fast as they ran, Scraps ran faster, and he crossed the mile of prairie to the second group of timber in a very short while, And, better still, be arrived there far ahead of his pursuers. To his delight he beheld there a small log in. t was rudely built, but stout and small, evi- dently the home of some solitary hunter in that rt. Purhere was a rude door, made ‘f small saplin secure, He quickly selected peep-holes on each side was ready to die game. . vas growing dark,ebt £ , 20% : » + tied together with buckskin thongs and h ee “. with oh ir but a bar of wood closed it, and ps felt , a Then darkness came on, and the negro was alone with his painful meditations, att f afar off he heard the mournful howl of a wolf, It was repeated three times, and it made the brave negro shudder, Taking off bis boots, be crept from side to the crevices between the loys. But not an Indian could he see. Not a sound did he hear. The silence was awful, the darkness was in- d; _ tense, anu the suspense was a fearful strain upon ‘*{ will go, sah, and find some water some- | bis nerves, But through the long hours of the night Scraps remained on watch, bis thoughts far away with the wounded man, whom he felt sure the Indians had killed, if they had not found him already dead. At last the gray of dawn was visible, and soon after it became light. Then the sun arose, but not a red-skin was to be seen. ‘* | guesses they is lying hid for me to come out, for they has as much patience as a cat watching a rat-hole,” muttered Scraps. But the time passed, and no Indian showed himself. It was noon, and Scraps began to narrowly watch every tree, taking different ones in turn, hoping to catch a movement bebind them. ut at last he could stand it no longer. He was tired, hungry, enraged, and he longed to know his master’s fate. ‘Tl fight ’em and die forit! I can’t stand this no longer.” So saying, he opened the door softly and crept out into the timber. Not a soul did he see. ‘‘Lordy! Has they give me up and gone?” he muttered. | ; It seemed so, for as he continued on his way, no red-skin was in sight. ‘* Now dem red Injuns was wrong dey tree a coon dat’s de time to stay d for when ar and git him. ** Dey had me tree’d, and yet dey has gone, ‘*T hopes I hain’t too previous in my solutions of de case; but it do strike me dey hab gone,” So saying, Scraps started on the trail he had come, back to the spot where he had left his master, He crossed the the timber with the greatest care an tered it. Going with the same stealthy tread, he passed through the timber to where he had left his wounded master. Not an Indian was in sight; but as he ap- proached the spot, a pack of wolves and coyotes, with angry yelps and snarls, bounded away through the woods. Scraps panegd and passed his hand over his we, for he seemed to know what he would be- O . Then he moved forward once more. An instant more, and, with a groan, he dro ped down upon his knees by the side of a oy which the wolves had torn to pieces, beyond gaa other than that it was a human orm, e ‘“My poor, poor Mars’ Henry,” he cried in a choking voice. ‘ At last he arose and with his knife set to work to dig a grave, He dug it narrow and deep, and then gather- ing the remains together, he buried them with sacred earnestness, muttering over them prayers as he did so. The grave was filled in, and over it fallen timbers were piled to protect it from the wolves. ) Then Scraps sadly turned away. | The horses were gone, and along with them his rifle and the haversacks of food. Worn out as he was, the poor fellow felt that the first thing he must do was to have rest, and so he ventured back to the little cabin in the other motte. Gathering some wood he lighted a fire in the cabin, for he had matches with him, and then filling his pipe, sat down to smoke in place of aint before seeking the rest he so truly needed. At last he lay down upon the floor, hig feet to the.fire, and sunk to sleep, almost indifferent to irie cautiously, approached then en- rht . at -. /-« % mm, i . ay : allies “ _ = ” ‘* iL se . “= a ‘e* was ravenous for food once start out on the trail 7 a’ me > “ch . 2. * et ." Se re ee xt aX te 229) 5 was Ce +h ded to. at NS the bene ps awoke, he was very stiff and | miles away, and lsome game of which he knew was some si at the same time he hoped to some kind, Tl] kill a wolf, ef I can’t pit nothing else, though it’s tough eating, and | guess a shade worse than tame dog meat,” he muttered as he went along. It was nearer for him to strike from the tim- ber right across the prairie, as he took his bear- ings: but instead he went back to the motte wherein was the grave of the man who had been his comrade, his friend and his master. As he drew near the spot he took his broad sombrero off, and diopping upon his knees said in a voice that quivered: ‘* Good-by, Mars’ Henry, good-by, ‘You was a noble man, and my friend, and may de goo’ Lord bress you accordin’,” Breaking a twig from a tree that over- shadowed the grave, he went slowly away, back through the timber, He was about to walk boldly out upon the prairie, when he started back, us he saw horse- men approaching, Fortunately there was a fallen tree near him, one blown down by a wind-storm, and falling in a thicket it afforded a splendid hiding-place. After seeing that he had a place to which he could retreat, Scraps gazed out upon the prairie at the approaching horsemen. e saw that two were white men, the other an Indian, The latter he recognized at a glance, as & Comanche chief who had, for some reason, left his people, and was dwelling in the white set- tlements, having several times visited his mas- ter’s ranch, and who had taken quite a fancy to the red-skin. ‘* It’s Red Wolf, the Comanche, and sart’in as I lives, he is bound hand and foot. ‘* But who 1s dem white folks, I wonder?” A closer survey of those who had the Indian a yrisoner, seemed to satisfy Scraps, for he quick- beat a retreat to the fallen tree, while he said hastily : ‘om ‘‘T knows ’em, and dey is Mexikins too, ‘Dey is some of dem Cowboy Pirits dot Mars” Henry and me trail one time and hab a brush wid, but what got away. ; ‘‘ 1'm gwine ter keep dark jist now; but if I kin git dot red Injun out ob dere hands, it’s my duty to do so. ; ‘Wonder if I can’t scare ’em to let him go?” The three horsemen were now pretty near to the motte, and Scraps did as he said he would— ** kept dark.” The Indian was a noble looking specimen of his race, and sat his horse as only a Comanche can, and wore the feather head-djress, bear-claw necklace, and beaded hunting sbirt of a chief, He was well mounted, yet was bound to his horse, while his hands were tied bebind him, _ The two men who were with him, one ridi upon either side and each holding a rein of the: Indian’s horse, were a villainous-looking pair. From his intensely black hair and dark face, one was without doubt a Mexican, and the other: ar pearee to be a half-breed Indian. | oth were well armed, and their horses, though thin, were good animals, As they approached the timber they constant danger. They peered into the woods, and at last one rode forward alone. soon after beckoned to his comrade. The other then advanced with the Indian. ready to act, when the half-breed, who was in advance, called out in English: , ‘‘T say burn the durned red-skin here, for we: don’t want to be bothered with him any | the Mexican. ‘No, what’s the use, for the boys would kill him, and we can do that aud have no more bother. “ Let’s burn him!” . ‘‘ Aj] right, senor; burn him like Indian burn Mexicano, men,” was the heartless reply. The two men then made the Indian dismount, and bound him fast to a tree, while the half-. breed said, in a voice that Scraps distinctly heard: ‘You won't follow the trail of the Cow Pirates any more, I’m thinking, Injun, and the Texans where to find us. You have burned white people, so e trick. Vom , Marcos, let t a i nf’ ’ ‘ioe Slitetea out and tbe half-breed < in hi % ss : fe ey. ee Ve % . t ae 4 wet Ny af > unt. Be) Ps ~*- re bd , | + : ‘oa 4 : e(o} nal Ke oyeye id so with the caution natural to one whose life is in Reaching the motte, he seemed _ satisfied and From his hiding-place Scraps was getting onger.” say, no take him to to Camp?” asked — ; :