Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 870 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

ee eee fears on that score. oe —_—_ with my warriors, flew into a passion and killed two of my braves which resulted in his own death. His death I regret on account of his daughter, a very pretty girl, I am told. But, this is just how the matter stands, Mr. Bondurant.” ‘Well, Gray Falcon,” Bondurant said in perplexity, “‘this beats any thing 1 ever heard of. Doctor Dave in admitting he was Powell Mitchell told a very plain, straight- forward story of his past life. He even de- clared, at first, he would not touch the in- heritance, and it was not until we had talked late into the night that he finally concluded that he would.” ‘*That was all done for effect, Mr. Bon- durant,” Gray Falcon observed; ‘‘{ might say the same and mean it, for, in fact, the money will do me no good. My days are about numbered. I feel that I cannot long survive this attack of sickness. But I have a daughter to whom the money might come well. True, there’s Ingin blood in ber veins, but sheis young and pretty. I would like to have her placed in some good school and educated, and I would be willing that Doc- tor Dave’s daughter, now that she is father- less, be kindly cared for and educated, also.” ‘*You say you have Craver a prisoner?” Bondurant observed, after several moments’ silence. ‘Yes, and he’s already confessed to me his whole base treachery,” answered the chief. ‘‘T should like to talk with him,” Bon- durant said.. ‘‘Of course, I do not dispute your claim, but, as you must know, your revelation has put a different phase upon the question, and breaks me all up. I want to be fair in the matter, and, if you are the heir, you’ll get the money, and a big pile of it. I should like, also, to have a talk with your detective, Syl Gascoyne.” “All right, Mr. Bondurant; I will ar- range it so that you can have a talk with both of them in the morning, I shall claim your company now until you wish to retire, which may not be long,.for I presume you are tired after your ride of to-day.” ‘* Another question I would like to ask you, Gray Falcon: why is that young ranch- man, Dan Temple, here a prisoner?” ‘‘T was goin’ to tell you "bout him awhile ago, but it slipped my mind,” the chief an- swered. ‘‘ Kamas Kit and his men were es- cortin’ Doctor Dave's daughter to this camp, When some two miles below here she leaped from her saddle and endeavored to escape in the dark, She turned into a defile and fi- nally sought refuge in the camp of four white men, one of whom was the young rancher. Kamas’s men pursued the girl and when they reached that camp the four men refused to let her go, and so they got into a fuss. The ranchman was knocked senseless _ and the others ran off. Temple was brought here to have his wounds dressed. He is not exactly a prisoner, but will be kept here till mornin’, at any rate.”’ ‘* And Miss Bond, where is she?” ‘‘ She has not been found, but men are out searching for her. They will find her,” ‘‘It seems to me I have heard Kamas Kit spoken of as an outlaw, Gray Falcon. How is that?” ‘‘ He is so called, I will confess,” the chief frankly admitted, ‘‘but you need have no You are my guest and no harm will befall you. In fact, it is all ‘important to me that your life be carefully guarded, for I hav’n’t a single doubt of my being able to fully satisfy you of my being ‘Powell Mitchell, despite the fact of Doctor Dave havin’ led a big trump.” _, Bondurant remained an hour or so longer ‘tth the chief who plied him with a hundred * uestions regarding people he had known . < Zanesville thirty years previous. In fact, “tue chief went over about the same grounds that Doctor Dave had the night before. The result was that when the executor re- Norway Nels, the Big Boy Mount _—-—-~— — turned to his own lodge, his brain was in a mad, wild whirl. He was forced to admit to himself that Gray Falcon had presented fully as good, if not a better claim to the in- heritance than Doctor Dave, so far as dates, reminiscences of his early life and events were concerned. But, the resemblance of Doctor Dave to the late Israel Mitchell was a sticking point with him that he could not clearly and satisfactorily get around. In fact, it was a point upon which the executor concluded to rest the matter until morning, and taking off his coat he threw himself on his couch and endeavored to forget every- thing in slumber. But, sleep he found was impossible, The faces of the rival claimants he could not drive from his mental vision, and it was a relief to his aching brain when a burst of wild excitement outside among the Indians suddenly drew his mind off those faces. Rising he peered out through an opening in the tent, and was startled with an inward shudder of horror at the sight he beheld. CHAPTER XIII. NORWAY HAS SOME FUN. Tne discovety of Dan Temple being alive filled Norway’s breast with great joy, and to secure his release from the power of his enemies was the subject the three hunters next had under coasideration. Presently another surprise met their gaze. It was the presence of Ira Bondurant in the camp to all appearance a guest instead of a prisoner! Norway recognized him by the description Dan had given him of the man at the time he recounted the bloody work of the savages at the cabin of Doctor Dave. That story, Nels now repeated to the Red River Rogues, when Polar Sol remarked: ‘‘ Surely that man, Bondurance, can’t bea traitor to the ole hermit.” ‘It begins to look suspicious,” Norway averred, with a shake of his shaggy head, ‘and if I was sure Alfa Bond wasn’t in that devil’s nest, I’d be for doin’ somethin’ des- perate, I must do somethin’ for Dan’ before I leave here!” ‘‘If them hyenas ’d go to bed,” growled Old Dismal ‘‘we could make one o’ our fancy Roman sneaks on them and whisk the young rancher out 0’ that.” ‘But they don't seem a bit sleepy,” re- plied Sol; ‘‘they are like owls and bats, and act jist as if they war oneasy ‘bout somethin’, or ’spectin’ somethin’ to turn up.” ‘‘Expecting their friend with the gal, Alfa,” suggested Norway with grim humor. ‘‘That’s ‘bout the shape o’ it. If they hav’n’t found the carcass you so tenderly toted off up the defile, they prob’ly think he's out yit with the gal.” As time passed on the Indians and out- laws maintained their wakefulness—stand- ing, sitting and walking about the camp, keeping up their fires as though they intend- ed to put in the night that way. The girl, Raven-Eyes, was seen to make frequent trips to where Temple lay bound, and finally these visits called out the obser- vation from Old Dismal: ‘‘That gal’s struck on the handsome young rancher, sure as death,” ‘‘T hope so, for the boy’s sake,” added Norway; ‘‘he’ll not be neglected while he’s there. But, pards, this is gittin’ terrible monotonous standin’ ’round here, and I’m goin’ to amuse them purgatorians a little jist for the fun o’ the thing.”’ As he spoke he felt around on the ground forarock about one-third the size of his fist which he informed the ‘ Rogues ” he meant to hurl across the canyon among the enemies’ horses, ‘Boy, that’s a cannon’s throw!” declared Polar Sol; ‘‘and if the dornick falls in the openin’, it’l] be sure to give us away by the direction in which it bounces off.” aineer. ———$$ ee a eee ae eee ‘‘Throwin’ stones is one 0’ ments,” Norway replied, ‘‘ and land this stone far beyond thé I’}l try it anyhow.” Lopping off a few boughs among which they stood, to gi clear swing, the young Ajax sen flying through the air over tl camp. And whether it hit a horse or’n commotion enough among them to or three Indians into the bushes to in investigation. “Boy, you’re an old Jovian catapult,” complimented Polar Sol. ‘‘That war an Old Master throw.” Nels made no reply, but finding another stone of the proper size, he sent it after the other just as the three red-skins emerged from the thicket into the light of the camp- fire. The result was a general excitement among the horses. One of them, evidently hit by the stone, broke loose and went crash- ing away among the pines, almost creating a panic. Two-thirds of the red skins and outlaws, grasping their weapons, rushed into the bushes under the impression that enemies were endeavoring to run off cheir animals. The Red River Rogues chucked each other in the ribs, and all but broke into an outburst of laughter, while Norway Nels stood watching the foe, his great frame shaking with suppressed mirth. ‘‘That’s fun-royal, Roman fun!” declared Sol in a whisper, ‘‘and, oh, land o’ the mid- night! how Id like to see a fair-sized dor- nick slap Kickin’ Hoss in the stomache! Wouldn’t it make him curl magnificently? Wouldn’t his head and heels clap together immediately sudden?” ‘‘V’d hand him one,” said Norway, ‘‘if I wer’n’t afraid the sharks would git onto our location by the way the stone'd strike. If I could drop it straight down from the clouds on his head, they couldn't tell the direction it came from ’cept from above. Another one in the bushes, though, won’t do us no harm, and ‘ll keep the mud-skins stirrin’.” So saying, he threw another stone over camp into the thicket, and it was instantly heard from in the way of a wild, unearthly shriek of pain that fairly pierced the heavens. ‘Salvation, oh! you belted a muddy that time, boy!” exclaimed Dismal. ‘‘ Just hear the hornits buzz! and see Kamas Kit bob around on that lame foot,” The red-skin’s yell had created the wildest excitement in camp, and in dire suspense those around the fire awaited an explana- tion. Presently two outlaws emerged from the thicket carrying an Indian from whose lips were issuing low moans of agony. As the men .approached the light, ail saw that one side of the red-skin’s face was terribly lacerated, and that blood was not only streaming from the horrible wound, but from the fellow’s nose and ears as well. ‘‘ What has done this?” exclaimed Kamas Kit, as the men laid the howling warrior on the ground before the fire. ‘‘] guess a hoss kicked him,” answered one of the outlaws. The injured warrior being in a dazed con- dition could give no account of his injuries, but kept up a moaning wail of agony that Nels and the Rogues could distinctly hear. Kamas examined the wound and de- clared: “That don’t look much’ like a horse’s track. The skin is tore downward and looks as if it’d been done with the poll of a hatchet or some blunt-edged weapon—there! by Judas Iscariot! goes another yelp! What in the thunder’s the matter out in that thicket?” Another cry of pain, true enough, had emanated from the bushes, and presently an outlaw came reeling into the light with his 200K