Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 64 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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10 _-—_—_ ——_—_-_ —_ deep in one of the leathern pockets, as he hunted for the cooked bird. ‘ To think that I rode my best last night with a can of niter glisserene joltin’ under me! Wal, some men are mighty reckless, an’ this proves that Lige Butler is one o them. Niter glisserene! guess I won’t starve to death as long as I hev got this box along!” Like all men of his calling, the guide was at home en the plains. The country west of the Rocky Mountains was as an open book to him; he had crossed the plains again and again, and the many trails that crossed them and cut them up were, with but few exceptions, familiar to m Well did he acknowledge the truth of Oregon a —— ee ees a = Leon’s assertion that the country of the hostile - Snakes, was a land of death; but that did not deter him from undertaking the rescue of Dandy Jack and Estil. The thought of leaving them to their fate had never entered his mind. He was still the ‘‘ maddest man in Oregon.” Several days and nights had intervened be- tween the consummation of plotted rascality on the Oregon trail, and Butiler’s last adventure with the Indians. He was now not far from the village of the hostiles, as he well knew from the situation of the country, and the course of the ver. He believed that both Jack and Estil were there, and his fervent wish was that he would encounter Luke Whittles. Long Lige had some- thing terrible in store for the thief. Seated astride of the mule at the edge of the cottonwoods, the long — saw the sunlight creep over the plain. is eye noticed every- thing; the waving of the river grass by the morning wind did not escape him. It was in the midst of his scouting that a creeping object crossed his line of vision. It did not glide along the edge of the distant hori- zon to suggest a herd of buffaloes or a band of roving Indians; but on the contrary crept slow- ly and painfully toward the river. | | Long Lige saw that the object had the move- ‘ments of a man, and the dark figure, now and then observable, told him that the creeper was an Indian. The guide hated everything red; the savage of the plains was to him the symbol of treachery and meanness. An Injun’s crawled upon the landscape!” mur- mured the guide. ‘It’s kind o’ queer to see 0 en hyar, an’ without a horse at that. Suthin’s wrong with the red-skin; he crawls like a person what had a bullet in his back. Goin’ down to the river fur a drink, p’raps. Wal, I'll go down thar, too!” Butler now dismounted, and at his command, the mule fell over on his side and lay still. Unarmed save with a revolver, Lige began to approach the Indian, still crawling painfull toward the river, and at last he saw him reac the water’s edge. A of delight fell from the red-skin’s throat as he thrust his face forward, and he began to fill himself with the not very wholesome bever- age. ‘* Lord! it does him good to drink!’ ejaculated Long Lige, looking on with pleasure. ‘‘ He acts as if he hedn’t tasted water fur a week. He’s been drinkin’ fur five minutes, an’ he’ll not stop till the river’s dry if I don’tstop’im.” » The guide now moved cautiously upon the savage again, and at last re&cthed his very side unperceived. I say, Injun!” With a ne and fastened his de. Sarr Thunder an’ lightnin’! what’s the matter?’ continued Butler, as much startled by the Indian’s appearance as the red had been by his. ‘*'You hevn’t got a piece of whole skin on you! whar hev you been? For a moment the Indian made noreply. He was a pitiable looking object, bleeding from head to foot and the blood mixed with dust and ate of grass blades, rendered him absolutely deo ery the drinker sprung back lood-shot eyes upon the old | ‘Whar hev you been?’ the guide repeated. 4 One thing’s sartin; yer beauty’s sp’iled for- ever! ‘‘Sun-Dance has been dragged behind a horse!” ‘¢ Sun-Dance—thet devil what keeps the Snakes in hot water all the time? First time I ever met you. Wal,I should suggest that you hev been dragged. At the end of a lasso, too, for thar’s the marks of one on yer wrist. Who did this ? “The white thief!” said Sun-Dance, shutting his teeth hard. “That’s what I call Luke Whittles,” said Butler. ‘“‘ But no more talkin’ till 1 fix you up. You wouldn’t be presentable to the ladies jist now, for you look too much like a Diledowl. I picked up a few traps at the wagon, among ’em a bottle of arnica, which we’ve got to weaken for you.” At the mention of the wagon the Tlamath opened his eyes. ‘““Wagon!” he said. “ White boy and Sun- Dance drop some Snakes there.” The guide did not reply, but rolled up his sleeves and began to wash the Indian, who shut his teeth hard, and while he bore the pain with admirable stoicism, his eyes looked thankful- ness upon Butler. . said. ‘‘Sun-Dance lon with his knife, and at last it cut cord.” Lon reece net k until the blood and earth n carefully washed from the In- dian’s body by the waters of the Fayette. He then discovered that the wounds were not seri- ous, consisting in the main of abrasions and bruises, which the arnica would soon heal. The most serious hurt was on the wrist encir- cled by the lasso during the Tlamath’s forced ‘ecgpnan over the plains. It was terribly swol- en and very painful, but the guide assured the Indian that it was not broken. *‘ Now tell me everything!” he said to Sun- Dance after his hurts had been attended to. The Indian then proceeded and recounted his adventures from the capture of Dandy Jack at the wagon to his own late mishap. ng Lige listened without interrupting him once. “The young ’un’s been caught—that’s purty sartin,” the guide said at the conclusion of the thrilling narrative, ‘‘ An’ the gal—she’s with Luke Whittles, the honery skunk, if some Injuns hevn’t robbed him of her. He won’t kill the al—he’s not that kind, so we kin let that or a while. The boy is the closest an’ he’s in danger; Oregon Leon’s in the Injun village, an’ he wouldn’t hesitate to put an end to him. The boy first, Sun-Dance. question?” The Indian’s eye® flashed. ‘Of course Sun-Dance hates the man who dragged him!” said the Tlamath. “ t’s nat’ral!” replied Lige. ‘“ But jest now you’re in no condition to hunt anybody. Why, you can’t stand ’thout help.” ° Can’t, white man?’ flash the savage in derision, and without assistance he sprung to his feet and looked triumphantly down upon the astonished guide. ‘Vengeance makes Sun- Dance well! He is ready to go with the white guide. If he says ‘‘ to the boy first,” to the boy they go. Jack is brave, an’ him an’ Sun-Dance are brothers. [If he says for Sun-Dance to go an’ hunt the girl alone an’ pay the stealer ack for draggin’ him, he go right off. The Tlamath does not feel the pain now. See! he could twist his big wrist, an’ never make a cry. And to illustrate his Sages f the savage sud- denly seized his swollen wrist and gave it a wrench that made Long Lige dart forward a cry of horror on his ss ‘You're a devil, Injun!” the guide cried. ‘* Don’t do that ag’in; it makes my flesh creep!” Sun-Dance laughed demoniacally. “The boy first!” continued Butler. ‘‘ We’ve got the hull Snake nation to fight, an’ two of the biggest white rascals thet ever lived—Leon Martevelde an’ Luke Whittles. We're pard- ners, Sun-Dance. Give me yer hand.” The two pases hands. “To stick together till we’ve got the young ‘uns back, an’ played the deuce with the na- tives!” said Lige, looking into the Tlamath’s sparkling eyes. ‘‘ Never to desart one another.” ‘* Never, white man!” ‘‘That’s business, Injun! You’re the only red- skin what Lige Butler ever took up with. Now for the long trail. Meanness for meanness— that’s the motto!” CHAPTER XII. LUKE WHITTLES LOSES A PRISONER. We have seen a specimen of Dandy Jack’s pluck ey in the presence of the ter pa of the Snake tribe. His battle with the dian boys has won for him the admiration of the reader. After that, believing that the torture would follow, he faced the principal chiefs and dared them to confront him in the firelit arena, His epithets hurled at the Indians stung them to the ope and it is highly probable that several would have taken up the glove, if an incident errs, and, to the savages, startling, had not occ A report came from the corral that the horses had stampeded, and the thunder of a thousand ow do you vote on the ‘ | Beadle’s Half-Dimé” Library: © *--—_ ~w ete eee hoofs instantly confirmed the startling intelli- gence. Rage and terror took possession of the assem- bly. War-Bow remanded Jack to the care of a chief who seized him rudely and carried him away on horseback. With wild cries, the wit- nesses to the pugilistic encounter hastened to the corral, as if the sound of hoofs, rapidly , growing indistinct, was not evidence enough of _ the stampede. ) War-Bow was the first to reach the “‘ corral,” if the cottonwood limbs that served as a fence could boast of the title. He found the inclosure broken, and the limbs scattered. The guard ‘The white thief rode like the wind,” he | time to cut the lasso | made his appearance. had a strange story to tell. He said that a singular steed had suddenly This animal at once commenced to gallop around the inclosure, with head and tail erect, and making a series of whinnies, which the confused guard could not describe. A piece of rope, like a lasso, encir- cled the animal’s neck. A frenzy seemed to take possession of the occupants of the corral; they followed the strange horse round and round, and at last, as he darted off toward the river, they rushed against the barricade, tore it down and thundered away after the stampeder. This was substantially the story of the stam- pede as told by its only human spectator. W ar-Bow listened to it with impatience, and with a half-contemptuous curling of his lip. He asked the guard why he did not try to shoot the strange steed, and when that worthy pro- tested. that he thought the horse might be a be-. ing from the unseen land, he received the chief’s tomahawk full in his forehead. The guard sunk quivering to the earth, and a half-suppressed cry of horror fell frcm the lips of the spectators. ‘‘It was the horse of Sun-Dance!” said War- Bow. ‘‘ His master has taught him to stampede our horses. Come! we must catch him.” — The only available steeds left to the Snakes were those lately ridden into the village by tosh i and his band, some thirty horses in But no time was to be lost; the thunder of the mad hoofs could be heard no more, and without adieu the Snake chieftain and his followers in pursuit. Several hours had passed since Luke Whit- tles’s flight from the village with Estil in his arms. The reader has not forgotten the circumstances attending the flight; how Sun-Dance lassoed bim as he was mounting his horse to be dragged away at arapid speed behind the horse’s heels. Luke’s arms were fastened to his side by the rope; but he managed tokeep a firm gripe on the stout reins; this alone kept him from being pull- ed with his captive from the horse. He had a knife and pistols in his belt, but could use neither. The arms of the girl were ccmparatively free, but she was quite uncon- scious, and he had to wait until she recovered. On, still on! Now and then Luke glanced over his shoulder, to see the body of his foe still bounding on be- hind him. ‘‘T’m doin’ the Snakes a sarvice by killin’ Sun- Dance in this manner—that’s what I hate!” he said, the first words he had uttered for miles. He hardly ever took his eyes from the face of the girl, now white in the moonlight. The lasso passing around her body made her doubly his risoner. Would she never wake, as she could cut the lasso and free them both? It was with an ejaculation of joy that he at last saw Estil’s eyes open. ‘Thank heaven!” he cried. ‘‘ Here, girl, take my knife and cut this infarnal lasso!” Pstil seemed to understand him at once, but she hesitated as her fingers touched the hilt of the knife. ‘“You are carrying me off for your own pur- pose!” she said, accusingly, ‘*¢'You will not re- store me to my friends. ‘“Pish!” sneered Luke, but beginning to be- lieve that he was not going to find a helpmate in the girl. ‘‘That’s woman’s talk all over; but this isn’t the time for it. Let the rope be then, an’ I’ll carry a corpse in my arms afore long.” Estil felt the cutting of the cord, it seemed to ee while he spoke, and she drew the ife. “God make my work for the best!” she in- wardly said, as she thrust the blade between Luke’s arm and the cord, and cut outward. The stout lariat her efforts for several moments; but, encouraged by the teamster, she persisted, until the last strand parted and they were free. Sun-Dance had been left behind! Awhile after the severing of the lazo Luke rode at a more moderate gait. He wanted to EGomicbooks (E(0)