Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 58 — page 1: what you’re looking at

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

roe —, Wt i a 1) ee em —_——— —<————es Vol. III. The Border King; OR, THE SECRET FOE. BY OLL COOMES, AUTHOR OF ‘‘VAGABOND JOE,” ‘‘THE DUMB Spy,” ‘‘KEEN-KNIFE,” ‘* LASSO JACK,” ETC., ETC. Singl Num Is CHAPTER I. UNDER THE SNOW. FIVE years ago. It was November, and a wild storm was | around him. sweeping down from the boreal regions. Up out of one of those Coteau des Prairies of northern Montana rose the round bald peaks of Panther Mountain, bleak and im against the wintry “—~ ‘he Powder river on the right and the Big Horn on the left defined its eastern and western boundaries re- spectively ; while the Tongue, cutting its way northward through the hills, poured its waters into the Yellowstone near Fort Alexander. But little else than desola- tion met the eye in these re- ions that bleak November ay: for not the sign of a habitation could be seen around. Even from the sum- mit of the highest not a sign of life was visible except a solitary figure making its war northward through the gathering shadows of even- Ing twilight. It was the fig- ure of a white man, clothed in the rude habiliments of an Indian warrior, and armed with a rifle, tomahawk, and brace of revolvers. Upon his back he bore the hind-quar- ters of a deer, which had evi- dently been recently slain, He was journeying east- ward across an open, level plateau between the base of the Panther Halls and the Powder river, and was walk- ing hastily, very likely to reach his camp, or a place to camp, somewhere within the belt of cottonwoods border- ing. the river before him. he distant howling of the wolves among the hills, and the sharp sem de of coyotes upon the plain, aswell as the threatening condition of the clouded sky, appeared to be extra incentives to the man’s haste; for occasionally he would glanceuneasily around him,scan the lowering clouds, then quicken his footsteps. As darkness came on the heavens gradually assumed a misty-cray color, and the wind, shifting to the north- BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, FOGHORN PHIL LISTENIN: SCLOULL lll le LLL 4) jf, » - WY AAS NN NN tot to oc ot nt at a Copyrighted in 1878, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. heavy, dismal, anddamp. Everything around him portended the coming of a snow-storm— | —S= WMT, VCC WORE one of those beating, blinding, and drifting | storms so peculiar to this northern latitude, through which it is impossible for man or beast to P we weve ully impressed with the dangers that hung a “ a \ | LV i ik ; 4 / \ s a 2 il “A. OBB-Go > | Fae TF LAS Oh Price, 5 Cents. | east—directly into the face of the hunter—grew | blinding sands of Sahara strike the doomed traveler. He pauses, and, drawing his blanket hood-lilre over his head, turns his back to the storm. He ' cannot move on with the blinding snow beating over him, the hunter pressed on, still clinging to | his load as if his life depended upon saving it. Mile after mile he left behind him, and still the | river was miles away. into his eyes and face—he cannot see a yard be- fore him. Mingled with that silent awfulness of the storm, he can still hear the long, mournful howling of the wolves and the dismal chattering _of the coyotes, and these sounds impress him At length, despite the gloom of night, he sees | something like a mighty, snow-white sail, reach- ing from heaven to earth and bellying to the | wind, coming down toward him from the north- | west. He knows what it is—a whirlwind of snow. Heshudders and draws his blanket closer | Then follows a sound like the confused rush of a million tiny wings, and the storm is upon him—striking like the , aL W TO THE MYSTERIOUS NOISE, more fully of his perilous situation. But he cannot go on. He is snow-bound, and there upon the open plain, with the shadows of niglit around him, he must breast the storm and its attending dangers for—-who could tell how long? Acting upon a sudden impulse, he all at once throws down his meat; then with his foot he scrapes aside the snow at his feet and seats him- self upon the earth. Then he draws his blanket closer around him and tucks its edges under him. He secures his rifle aiid loosens his revolvers, and, with his tomahawk clasped firmly in his hand, he re- mains motionless and silent with his thoughts, while the great storm-king weaves and twines a sheet of crystal white around him. Thus the moments glided into minutes, and the min- utes into hours. Still the storm rageson. Deeper and deeper grows the snow upon the plain, and thicker and thicker weaves the storm its mantle of flakes around the lonely hunter, until only a little white mound of snow told where he had sat down alone upon the treeless and shrubless plain. But within his crystal palace, warm and quiet, sat the hunter. Ex- perience had undoubtedly taught him that this re- course was the only one, un- der the circumstances, for his life, strange as it may seem to those unacquainted with the fact. The howl of the wolves and the roar of the storm were now hushed to him. From the beasts he felt no fear now; and with his own revolving thoughts he sat in com ionship. And thus the hours wore on; he could do nothing but ponder over his situation. But at length he was startled from his gloomy thoughts by the dull vibratory jarring of the earth beneath him, as if many hoofed feet were rush- ing over it. ut surely this could not be the case, he thought. No human could travel on horse- back such a night as thet. It was not the headlong rush of buffaloes, for they had long since passed to the pasture- fields of the south. And so EOMIiEhoo, <SaGO