Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 56 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

/ ee Nick Whiffies’s Pet. CHAPTER XIV. THE SLEEPING SCOUT. “ADVANCING a few steps nearer to Nick Whiffles, the lovers saw what was now the cause of the alarm. Directly ahead of them, and seemingly in the path itself, they plainly saw the gleam of a camp-fire. It was plain that the trapper was somewhat puzzled over this. Certain at once that there was some deep design init, he was at a loss to comprehend what the design was. Common opinion would have ronounced this to be the regular camp-fire of the lackfeet, but even Mackintosh knew that such a thing was extremely improbable;.for the Indians were not in camp, and would not kindle a fire in the vicinity of an enemy, unless it was intended to be used as some means to decoy them into destruc- tion. So the party paused for a few minutes, while Nick cautiously approached to reconnoiter. He went nearer and nearer until no more than a hundred feet separated him from it, and prudence warned him anne going further. e then saw that the fire was burning directly in the path, but there was no sign of any person near; but, satisfied that there must be some one, he wait- ed and watched. Something like a half-hour had passed, and the fire was sensibly diminishing, when an Indian suddenly came to view out of the dark- ness, and throwing quite a large quantity of sticks and brush upon the flames, retreated to the shelter of the forest again. Nick waited and watched, ex- pecting to see others, but none at all were visible, and it was evident that this was the only Blackfoot in the immediate vicinity. With his remarkable sagacity, Nick now began to comprehend what all this meant. The Blackfeet wers taking pains to keep the fire apaleaps expect- ing that it would perhaps catch the eye of the fugi- tives wander in the vicinity. They would be apt naturally to drift into the path, and seeing the fire would make a detour to avoid it. On each side of the fire, at some distance in the wood, there were doubt- loss Indian sentinels on the alert to discover, and in- stantly make known their whereabouts to the In- dians searching for them. This was Nick’s theory of what he saw, although at the same time, he saw that it was no very brilliant strategy, and the chances of its success were quite remote; but it had its danger, nevertheless, and he turned back to warn his companions, The natural course that now suggested itself was for the party to leave the path altogether, and, pur- suing a course at right —— to it, make directly for ae ridge over which they were so desirous of passing, This was done with only a moment’s delay, neces- sary for a complete understanding of the movement, The Indians seemed still on every side of them, and too much caution could not be exercised in every movement made. The keenness of Calamity was in- valuable, 4nd he had already been the means of sav- ing them from capture more than once, ‘We're in a condemned diffikilty yet,’’ remarked Nick, as they stepped out of the path; “it’s hard traveling over these rocks, and if you ain’t blamed careful, the varmints ‘ll hear you, too.” ‘*You mustn’t go too fast,’ admonished Miona; ‘two or three times I came near losing you.” “Till take care of that,’’ was the reply. ‘“ Are you good for a long tramp?”’ ‘“‘Tam good for any exertion that will get us out of this dangerous place,”’ she answered; ‘it seems that we are making no progress at all.”’ **We ain’t much, sartin. How do you stand it, Ned? Are you ’bout ready to give up?’ “T will notify you, Nick, when I need rest,” laughed Ned. “I am somewhat tired, but my only trouble is drowsiness. You know I haven't slept for two nights, and if I stand still for ten minutes, I find my oy ee getting heavy.” “You must fight it off, for we ain’t going to have any time to sleep to-night. Wait till you get where there’s a chance, and you may sleep for a week. Come ahead now, and mind what I said "bout mak- ing a noise; it seems to me thar’s a hundred of the varmints skulking all ‘round us.”’ Again they moved forward, taking a route that was much more difficult to follow than the other. Here and there the woods were so full of dense un- derzrowth that they were forced to pick their way with great carefulness, or else to change their course en'irely; then in huge rocks interposed, causi the same difficulty : but the trapper sti maintained his general direction, advancing closer and closer to the ridge on the north-east of them. The sky was clear, and while they were passing along in this manner, the moon appeared above the ridge behind them, casting a dim light over the forest, and helping them on their way at the same time that it also increased the senger of their being seen by the Indians, who were leaving no stone un- turned to detect and capture them, Occasionally Whiffles paused and listened, while Calamity was never more alert and keen-scented. So long as he gave no signs of disturbance a certain feeling of security was with all; it was only when he -Showed uneasiness that the lovers apprehended seri- -Ous trouble, No little pr was made in this direction, and the reaction of hope was strong with all, when, as if to remind them they were doomed beyond all ques- ‘tion, Nick Whiffles exclaimed: _ “By mighty! if we ain‘t runnin’ afoul of another of their infarnal camp-fires; do you obsarve that?” As he spoke he pointed into the wood, where the well known glimmer was distin able directly ahead of them, and in such a position that had they continued their progress they could not have saved themselves from running directly into it. Again the veteran trapper was nonplused. Why 11 this second camp-fire should be kindled was a puzzle | ed to throw its rays somewhat further to strike his to him, as there was no reason certainly for the Blackfeet to think that they were going to run against it. It might be, however, that there were a dozen camp-fires burning here and there through the valley, and this was only a part of a plan that was intended to prevent the possibility of their es- caping from the valley. é first question of course was what was to be done, and Nick answered it by proposing a different course of procedure, ‘*Ned, you haven’t forgot the way you used to steal through the woods—I can see that, the way you’ve managed since you've been with me—so I’m going to let you ruckynoiter that on one side, while I take the other.”’ “And Iam to approach it from the front, I sup- pose,’’ said Miona, with a laugh. ‘“*l want you to stay exactly where yo. are till we come back to you,”’ was the ee ‘“* Here is my blanket,” suid Mackintosh, adjusting it about her shoulders; “ you can wrap it about you, and, as you must be quite drowsy, you can obtain the much-needed slumber,”’ “You are sure you will know where to find me?”’ remarked the girl, doubtfully, to Nick. * You needn’t think nothin’ of ‘hat; all you’ve got to do is, to cuddle down with the blanket about you, “y your prayers, and go to sleep.” ackintosh kissed her good-by, and, with a fond word or two, the men moved away. ** Now,” said my hero, ‘‘ 1 want to understand pre- ci iy what is expected of me.” “Wal, then, I want you to go within "bout a hun- dred feet of that fire, on hee! right, an I'll go the same on the deft, and we’ll keep on till we meet on t’other side,”’ ‘*“Suppose we miss each other, shall we take our old style of whistle? I think I haven’t forgotten to make that.” ‘We mustn't lose each other, Ned.” ‘But the thing is possible, Nick, and a wise gene- ral prepares for all known contingencies before go- ing into battle.”’ ‘There mustn't be any whistling or signaling be- tween us atall. If you get off the track, I'll set the pup to huntin’ you, and I think he’ll scent you out, if you climb a tree.”’ ‘Ah! I forgot Calamity,’’ replied Ned, as he stoop- ed and patted the head of the faithful brute. ‘‘ What would we do, if it wash’t for him? All right, then. I think I understand my part.’” A few more words were exchanged, that the two might make sure that they understood each other, and then they separated, Nick Whiffles thus doing what all military science would condemn, dividing his force in the face of an enemy; but, under the circumstances, he was ppateien in his strategy, as the efficient part of his company were merely thrown forward as ‘‘skirmishers,’’ and with the pur- pose of feeling the foe. Nick, I may as well remark, ep his part of the reconno ce, as a matter of course, without diffleulty, but a most singular experience was that of Ned Mackintosh, as I shall now proceed to show. The training of five years before could never be eradicated from the young man, and with something like amusement, he saw himself moving forward woe the caution, stealth and celerity of a veteran scout. He constantly glanced toward the camp-fire; and, as he advanced further and further, he became aware that it was not a “dummy,” like the one he had passed some time before, but that there were men near it. He could see figures occasionally moving between him and the blaze, which flamed up irregularly, as though it was being fed by those around it. Such being the case, Mackintosh felt that it was his duty to make a closer inspection of the per. His position might be such as to give him a better opportunity than Nick, and he decided upon making as close an 5 panne to the fire as yee possible. Following the custom of scouts at such times, he sunk down on his hands and knees, and began creep- ing stealthily forward, here was a sort of fascination in this, as he re- membered to have felt when a boy, while he was stealing upon some game, and he drew nearer and nearer, until prudence warned him that it would not do to go any further, and he paused. He was now lying flat upon his face, his eyes fixed keenly upon the blaze, watching the figures that oc- casionally flitued to view, intent only upon learning what he could learn, when he became sensible of the old feeling of drowsiness creeping upon him. What should he do? Regular as he had been in his habits, it was impossible for him to fight off the insidious approach of the “ restorer,’’ which never seemed so sweet, so balmy, so tempting as then. “Shall I retreat, and move about until I gain com- mand of myself?’’ he asked, as he debated the dan- ger in his own mind. Then he concluded that if he went further _—, from the camp-fire, he would put himself in a posi- tion where he could learn not ng at all regardi the Indians, and his reconnoissance would then be a failure altogether. By this time, Mackintcsh was in that reckless state of mind, which immediately precedes slumber and in which he cares very little how wags the world - is only anxious that his slumbers be not disturb- Two minutes later, as he lay stretched out upon the ground, he was sound asleep. Fortunately for Ned Mackintosh, bis position was such that he breathed freely and easily, so that there was no of his presence being betrayed by that means alone. He was so close to the camp-fire, that it only need- — —E —EEEE prostrate and unconscious form, for he was as oblivi- ous of his danger, as though he were across the ocean, thousands of miles away. Again and again was the fire replenished, and it flamed higher and higher, but still he slepton. A half dozen or more of Indians were coming and going before the camp-fire; they occasionally group- ed together, but they remained unmindful of the proximity of one of the very men for whom they were searching. Occasionally the tremolo-like whistle was heard in the stillness of the night, and the replies came from different parts of the wood, but where or whither the vengeful Blackfeet passed, they failed to discover their victims. But this state of things could not continue for any length of time. One of the keen Blackfeet left the camp-fire and wandered off in the very direction where Mackintosh was lying, halting about a dozen yards away, where he stood like one uncertain in what direction he should turn his steps. At this juncture, the sleeper moved uneasily in his slumber, throwing his arms from off his face. Slight as was the noise, it caught the ear of the red-skin, who started and glanced furtively in the direction, as if he suspected danger. In the gloom of the wood he discerned nothing, but he carefully withdrew further into the darkness, where he was better protected himself, and then be- gan circling around the point whence issued the sus- picious sound. Again the arm of the sleeper struck the dry leaves, and the Blackfoot was able to tell precisely where the noise occurred. Something certainly was there that needed inves- tigation, and he ere ey down like a panther and began circling around it. tep by step he drew near, until at length he was enabled to detect the figure of a man stretched out upon the ground. ‘*What could it mean?’ the Indian instinctively asked himself, pausing and gazing at the form, doubtful whether it was that of a dead or dying man. As the savage was now situated, the latter was between him and the fire, so that he could see any movement made by the stranger, and while he was looking at him, he saw a foot stir. This proved at ouce that the man was alive, and the indifferent way in which he stirred it, proved at once that he was not wounded. The Indian had already discovered that he was a white man, and consequently one of the very ote 4 for whom they were searching, and he comprehend- ed at once that he must be asleep. What a fortunate thing for the Blackfoot. His heart gave a leap of exultation at the thought. While the other dozen or more were searching here, there, everywhere for the whites, here was one directly in his power. It was very easy to summon his comrades around him, to secure the poor fellow at once, but why do that? Was he not abundantly able to take care of him? Ay, though he were aroused and fully armed, the Blackfoot would have sprung forward, eager to meet him in the hand-to-hand encounter. So, drawing his knife, he crept on toward him. He was determined that the glory of his scalp should belong to him alone. He would carry it into camp and glory over it, in the face of the other braves. ~ a few feet separated them, and the knife was in the hand of the Indian, who was now certain of his prey. And still Ned Mackintosh slumbered! CHAPTER, XV. WHAT NEXT? ** ANOTHER condemned diffikilty,’’ muttered Nick Whiffies, as, after thoroughly reconnoitering the camp, and crawling two-thirds of the way around it, he failed to discover any sign of Ned Mackintosh; ‘either me or him has got off the track. I’m sure it ain’t me.”’ Still not suspecting that any thing serious had oc- curred, Nick waited where he was, expecting that his young friend would speedily put in an appear- ance, “There allers seems to be some diffikilty that a man’s gettin’ into,’’ he continued, talking partly to himself and part y to Calamity, who was crouched down beside him. “ The very first time I come across that younker, he was in the t diffikilty of his life, fur when a baby two or three years old starts out in a canoe, he needn’t ca’c’late on having an easy time of it. bi ‘*T spose I had a good deal of the same diffikilt when I was young; for I’ve heard my mother say had all the diseases ever heard of, and some new ones that was never heard of. I was so short when I got the fever that it hadn’t room to turn in me. The doctor that tended me was a fit-doctor, and he didn’t know nothing "bout anything else; so he allers made it a p’int that I should be scared into fits afore he’d have anything to do with me, ‘cause he said he was death on fits, and it was necessary I should go into ’em afore his medicines would do me wn f ; ‘** But I paid the old scamp off by giving im the whooping-cough, and it took such a hold of him that he coughed for six days without stop ing, and then had a screw put on the top of hie headec eep it o but the thread didn’t hold and that was the end his career as a fit-doctor. ©. ‘*Howsumever I got well myself, and a few days arter fell out the third-story winder; but I struck on the head of a colored gentleman that was ee. He had a new hat on, and it med it down over his eyes, so there was another di ty, es my old gen- tleman had to pay for that. IJOO eom “S (E eo