Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 70 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

a) , ' situation of her cousin, her sympat Old Zip’s Cabin. 11 ‘“Oh, don’t—don’t,” she pleaded, turning her head away; “‘ this is cruel to me.” ‘‘ But is it not cruel to me, to refuse my dying request? Oh! oh! I felt a twinge then.” elena, desirous as she was of sparing the feelings of her relative, could not deceive him. So, looking him full in the face, she said, in a low, but unwavering voice: ‘‘Percy, 1 am engaged to be married this autumn to Edward Hosmer, and if my life is s to meet him, my promise shall be kept.” ‘*Oh! that is all right,” replied the imperturb- able Percy, ‘‘ You know a t many mar- paces take place where the love is all on one side. ‘“ What do you mean to insinuate by that?’ she demanded, looking earnestly at him. ‘*T have never seen this counter-jumper from St. Paul, but I doubt not that your marriage was arranged to suit your parents.” This was enough to offend any plighted maid- en, and Helena certainly felt the extremely bad taste of the remark, but, recalling the perme y out- balanced every other emotion. ¥ Percy, do you doubt that my affianced loves @ ‘* Not in the least; indeed I am sure of it, for you are so confoundedly pretty that every one distraction.” m must admire and love you to ‘* You have admitted that—then you will be- lieve me, when I declare to you, that I love Ned Hosmer with my full heart—love him, as I have never loved, and can never love another. I have an affection for you, and my heart is deep- ly saddened at your unfortunate ition; but, certainly you can no longer mistake my mean- ing. Now let us make no further reference to it. Tell me, can I do anything for you?” ‘*T have a few trifles in my possession that I will turn over to you,” said Percy, in a changed voice. ‘‘I have several photographs of young lady friends of mine. Here is lla Livings- ton, a belle on Broad street, and Sophionia Jug- erton—whose father struck oil—a good catch, ut she ain’t poate then here is—but what is the use of te ing you their names when you ps Fa eS ae m . ‘*How many ve you, Percy? “T had thirteen: when I started from home, but Iam afraid I have lost some, or else,” he added, fumbling in his pockets, “these thieves have robbed me of them.” ‘** And you wish me to re each of them?’ ‘Yes; you will find their names and address written on a slip of paper, and inserted in the back. You see I got them mixed sometimes and I hit on this plan to keep things straight. I wish you to return each of these to the address written on the back, with a few lines cca my lamentable death, and assure each and that my last thoughts were of them.” Despite the solemnity of the occasion there was something so ridiculous in these remarks, that Helena erton actually smiled with the conviction that she certainly had the greatest ‘*sap-head” for a cousin that ever lived. But what was the meaning of this? A half hour had passed since Percy swallowed the fearful drug, and he showed not the least evi- dence of being affected by it. The victim was still Marge oy 8 his pockets, and finally dove down into the breast ket which been visited so often while he was cooking the mutton. This was pretty well filled, and he drew out several pete aphs and packages. One of the latter he laid upon the ground be- side him, and then picked it up and looked at it again. ‘* By Jove! how is that?’ It was labeled ‘ Poison,” and was securely tied. up with twine, and the paper was un- broken. Fitzsimmons held it up and stared at it in silent amazement as though he couldn’t make out what it all meant. ‘‘ Why that is the package of arsenic, that Ned Hosmer woe me from Saint Paul; did onde : sewerind Percy stared, with of answering, with open eyes, and then forced his ate down in his pocket again. This time, he fished up another package of per, that was covered with a whi wader, he torn, and apparently with its orl contents gone. This unquestionably was the parcel from which the powder had been taken and scattered over the meat. Percy held it up, and as the firelight shone upon it, Helena Fullerton read: __, _, MINIATURE MoTHER OF PEARL. Original and Genuine Article; Contains no In- jurvus Substance, Prepared onlg by—etc.” And then, there was the likeness offa handsome young lady in the corner of the label. Fitzsimmons laughed till he fell over on his side, then straightened up, and as soon as he could subdue his risibles, said: ‘‘What do you think, Helena? Instead of sprinkling the arsenic on the meat, I got the wrong package, and threw some face-powders upon it, as harmless as so much flour.” ‘What were you doing with the face-pow- der?” she asked, so greatly relieved that she felt privileged to quiz him a Little. xis Well, ou see, I carry it asa present to my lady friends; I hope you don’t think I ever use it; I bought it, because it had the picture of such a handsome lady upon it, and, as a present to ou. It generally comes in a round box, witha little red fringe around it; but I smashed it - and put it in this paper, because it was so muc handier to carry. Now, ain’t that a piece of good-luck though? and I have eaten enough din- ner to last me a week. I wonder who got fooled —these Indians or me.” ‘* Both, that being the case, although I don’t much relish the thought of eating ‘Mother of Pearl,’ yet, perhaps it is the best use to which it = be put, and so I will venture upon some my- self. With this, Helena walked to the log, picked up the remainder of the meat, disengaged a por- tion, and began eating it. serena one of the oan or wo vrata and proteste i it, pro y fearing she meant os a ag os But she refused to discontinue, and ate enough to give her all the nourishment she needed, and then she seated herself upon the log, where she could face her three captors, and see the move- ments of all. Their interest was centered upon Fitzsimmons, whom they expected every moment to fall on the ground in his last struggle. But this expectation did not meet with much encouragement; for, having discovered another cigar about his person, Percy drew a brand from the fire, lit it, and then reclined upon the ground in the attitude of a man who feels him- self in an exceedingly comfortable position. ‘Let them watch,” muttered the object of their attention, understanding very well what it meant. ‘I only wish 1 had a little more ap- tite left and I would eat the rest of that mut- n, and compel them to go without their sup- per. : ‘** Wasn’t that a fortunate we os for me? It was a providence indeed; but I ought to have been more careful in emptying my pockets. Helena’s bright eyes saw that powder, and I do believe she thinks I use it myself. Of course all we beaux do, but we don’t care about the ladies knowing it; eed those that are like her, who do not need artificial assistance to highten their charms.” It was a little annoying to feel this conviction but the great, overpowering mistake—if so i might be termed—so outweighed every thing else, that it can not be wondered that Fitzsim- mons felt so elated at times that he could barely repress a shout. He even meditated leaping to his feet, placing his hands upon his hips, and waltzing about the camp-fire, to show his prime condition. “Then it would be a sort of homceopathic war-dance,” he added, ‘‘ and would teach these wretches a Christian amusement that can take place of their barbarous practices.” Fully a half-hour more passed, during which tne three Sioux scarcely removed their eyes from Fitzsimmons, who contined me, nes leisurely at his cigar, so as to make it as long as possible. Occasionally one of them glanced toward Helena Fullerton, who sat quiet and motionless, watching all. When the time mentioned had elapsed, the In- dians were convinced that no mischief had been intended by their prisoner, and that he probably meant to distribute some sort of an appetizer over the surface of the meat. So, as they were all in need of a meal, they fell to and ate the rest of the meat themselves without the least appearance of any suspicion of anything wrong. his done, the savage who had heard Percy ask Helena for her pistol, now walked to where she was sitting, and pausing a stepor two away, as she rose to her feet, oni: ‘* Got little os ib me.” She comprehended his meaning in a moment, and she stepped away from him. ‘*Me want—me hab,” he added, drawing his knife from his girdle and holding it aloft in the same threatening manner that , had used to- ward Fitzsimmons. Helena passed her hand to her bosom, and drew out the diminutive weapon, as if she were about to surrender it. Instead of doing that, however, she hastily drew the hammer back, and raised her arm, looking her foe full in the ace. ‘I shall not give up the weapon,” she said, in a calm voice, ‘‘and if you come any nearer I will fire.” The Sioux, with a scornful grunt, sprung di- rectly at her, intending to clasp her in his arms; but she leaped beyond his reach, and pausing only long enough to make sure of her aim, dis- charged two barrels of her revolver, in quick succession, full at his face. CHAPTER VIIL. INTO THE RAVINE. THE pistol of Helena Fullerton could not have been better aimed, and the first conical bullet went through the skull of the Sioux as though it was but an egg-shell, and the second followed the first in a parallel direction, and scarcely a half inch from it. The savage was killed so quickly that he could not have known what did it. With a spas- modic , and an = > te fling of his brawny arms, he fell forward like a log, and his head rae my, A the very feet of the maiden. The latter seeing that one foe was finished, raised her pistol again and held it ready for the other two, certain that they would attack her, in revenge for what she had done. All this was done with such suddenness, that the remaining Sioux seemed unable to realize, for some time, what had taken place; but the double crack of the pistol and the sight of their prostrate and motionless comrade, told the read in a language that was not to be mis- en Knowing that the crisis was at hand, Fitzsim- mons sat stupefied, knowing not what to do, and only wishing that he, too, had a pistol. What the precise action of the Sioux would have been had they not been disturbed, can only be conjectured; but it is probable that they would have subjected the ing girl to every possible indignity, had they been able to secure ion of her person. But before any serious attempt could be made, the double crack of two rifles was heard, and both rolled over on the ground, as dead as dead could be. Ere the two captives could comprehend what had taken place, the crackling of the under- brush was heard, and Old Zip and Ned Hosmer rushed up to the camp-fire. ‘** Ah! my own, is it you?” exclaimed the over- ‘hay lover, rushing up to Helena, and catching er in his arms; ‘ we have been hunting the hills for you, and, thank God, find you un- harmed.” The happy girl did not swoon, but she was un- able to articulate, and suffered her lover to lead her to the tree, and seat her upon it, while he held her precious head upon his shoulder, thank- ful glad joyous in his passion. Ol Zip looked around and made sure that the ‘‘varmints” were laid out so effectively that nothing was to be apprehended from them, and then he advanced to where Percy was just rising to his feet. ‘““How are you, Persimmons?’ said he, ex- tending his hand; ‘ you have been striking up a trade with the varmints, have you?” ‘‘Yes, confound them; I had to do it to kee them in good-humor, but I think I'll trade back now. ‘Who popped over that critter out thar?’ he asked, indicating the one lying near the tree, where the lovers were sitting. ‘I suppose I ought to have the credit for that,” he answered, ‘‘as I assumed the direc- tion of affairs here, although the young lady actually pulled the trigger.” “T should think she did, for your shots are more apt to hurt harmless critters than they are them that they’re intended for.” Nothing special was meant by this, but Fitz- simmons recalled his last mesalliance, and in- stantly demanded: ~ o told you about that?” ‘Rout what?’ ** About my shooting that cow by mistake.” ‘* Nobody—I didn’t know nothing about it. I seen the cow in the wood, and 3g’ it were the work of the varmints, but I’m glad you told me of it.” ‘By Jove! I was a little too quick there,” said Percy, with a sickly laugh. “I took the cow for a bear, and pean you had seen me shoot —the best of us will make mistakes.” _ “Come, Ned,” called out the hunter, address- ing his young friend. “I ess the gal has re- vived, and we mustn’t forgit that there are some (E| 0\(6\(6) coim cS (E(0)