Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 723 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

Silverblade, the Shoshone, 13 hunted, here and there he noted facts which would have escaped a less practiced eye. And the further he went, the lighter grew his worst dread, for he was growing almost sure this ineant but a changes of camps, not a migration £elsouth to join the hostiles. as} And soit proved, though the sun had risen ke|before. Luke Woodbridge came upon that idjcamp. Doggedly as he had persisted, and plain ne}though the trail was, torchlight tracking is slow 1g }work when the trailer bas to pick up material as he goes along. ed} Luke Woodbridge was in the saddle when he y jcame into view of the new encampment, and ; {bis ears had warned bim what to expect, long to jbefore his eyesight was of avail. 18] Squatting io front of tie Medicine Lodge, he holding the long drum of hollowed wood between yn this knees as he hammered the dried hide tightly *h jstretched across its top, was an old Indian, ln 0 }the cleared space before him, a score or more foung Indians were circling to the left, their curved fingers interlocked, one with another, their heads thrown bagk and their glassy eyes Staping upward, their ‘feet stamping in time with each drum-beat, their voices mingling together in hoarse, monotonous chant, broken now and again by a wild screech of frenzy. =| Here and there lay or stood single figures, o£ |but Luke Woodbridge hardly noticed them. He 1b had caught sight of one of those dancers, and n jbelioved in it he recognized his son, bideously Ipainted, wildest of the wild, a picture which n jfilled his heart with savage grief. '. | With a aoarse shout he spurred his horse for- ward, one hand flung upward in token of amity, '$ |but the other gripping the butt of a revolver. IS | ** Father! Why are you—” d | One of those solitary figures sprung forward © jwith a sharp cry, but stopped short, feet as well iG Itongue, For a single breath he had been David, now he was Silverblade! d | ‘I want you, boy!” cried Woodbridge, some- g |thing like a red mist flashing in front of his ach- - fing eyes as he saw his mistake; as he knew that — }his son had n+t formed one of tliose hideous dan- ‘lL icers, ‘ Your mother—” S| ‘Ihave no mother. Iam no longer a boy,” coldly declared Silverblade, but advancing with a jrapid strides until he stood between his father , and those startled, angered dancers. ? | Well for Luke Woodbridge that the medicine- t |man was absent from the new camp! If he had been present, the lightest word from bis lips would have brought about an ugly tragedy. eace, brothers!” sternly tak the youthful vonvert, waving an open palm toward the others, more than one of whom had grasped and even drawn deadly weapons, ‘There is nothing to fear from this man, He seeks Silverblade, and his eyes are blind to all else. Is it not so, Luke "Devil hy ” harsh ‘Vevll fy away with ’em all!” harshly mut- sred the stockman, his eyes full of angry disgust as they flashed Over the gathering. ‘Come with me, David. Your mother is sick, aud she’s call- ing for her boy! If we make haste, we may be in time to— Your horse, boy!” Silverblade the reine, turned the horse’s head, then walked briskly uway until the Of rg was hidden from sight, ‘* Never mind me, David. Get your horseand come! Didn’t you hear what I said? Mother's sick—she may be dead this moment,” ** Tf so, her soul is under the sheltering wing of the Great Spirit,” gravely said Silverblade, his head bowing for a brief space, . ‘* But she sent me—she’s calling for her Davie, _ fallthe time! I ve ridden with red spur—see!” ; | Bat the young man was not lookin toward , be foot thrust out in evidence. His een ears : bad caught auother sound, and bis swift turning : avers that quarter, caused Luke Woodbridge | tte £ ance the same way. | he bushes parted, and tha painted face of the _ WMMedicine-man looked doubly hideous as a band of ight spnlign’ pg athwart it. Then, his | EMaSK of paint wrinkling with a sardonic grin, rae? bs divided to permit the passage of his 1“ Are you losing faith, so soon, child e Mother Snake?” he demanded harshly, rie Be ion. to Luke Woodbridge, after that one ous glance, ou turning yo nt Hols ta ~ Messiah d “il a rning on the devil and all such Pt &$ you!” botly cried the stockman, losing sight ot pradence in his impatience. ‘ He is my SOL he has but one mother, And that cy is calling to her child from her death- ‘Be it so! There will be one the less for’ $e:\ or the Messiah to swallow up with his death-wave,” ' Leace!” almost savagely muttered the youth, l to es 18 n pea | lil onsale tn wn? 7) Se ee ee Sr Grew "9 -*. , ry ‘ ’ 7 . 7 : ~ gt w- ti. 6 4 4 aes : at , . ~ al s a 9 = s] “ e > . ‘ ‘ d * ' - i? , ’ e¢ : “ = F white men! stepping between the two men. ‘ Touch him not, Luke Woodbridge. Do him no harm, fath- er,” with a slight bowing of his head toward the medicine-man. Although it was not so calculated, that sign of submission cooled the fierce rage which boiled | | medicine-man fell back a pace or two, As though stunned by such a swift volley, the He even seemed to shrink, to cower; but that emotion was overcome 80 quickly that one could not be quite sure. | Silverblade, like one drawn by a tie he cannot up in the stockman’s heart, And when hespoke, | break, fell away from his father, and drew his voice was even, his eyes upon bis son, ignor- ing that painted tempter just beyond. | nearer to the false prophet. Woodbridge turned ghastly pale at that, but ‘* David, have you forgotten the motker who | he fought back the sickening sensation as best he bore you? it begs you come? She is dying, boy!” Will you not hear to her voice, when | might, and made one more appea): ‘* Your mother is dying, David. She calls for ‘*Silverblade, child of He-That-Fights-Long! | ber boy; shall her death-prayer remain unheard, Will you turn from everlasting life, in favor of eternal death? Will you prove false to the red blood that binds you to the Messiah?” ** David, will you listen to a devil, rather than hear your mother calling ber boy? Will you stay here , and let ber die, calling in vain?” “If Weenamoo dies now, she will rise again when the Messiah comes! Let Silverblade listen to the truth, not turn his ear to the false hissing of the tempter!” ‘*She turned her face from me, David. She would not be satisfied even with her little girl, She kept calling amid her moans aud asps of pain, for her boy—for her little Davie!” ‘Shall the Messiah hear no response when he calls aloud the name of Silverblade, the Sho- Shone? When he asks why this is so, shall he be told a white cur had sucked away the red blood, leaving Silverblade but a traitorous pale-face?” ‘“Saut up, ye devil from hell’s deepest pits!” hoarsely cried the white man, once more losing his forced composure, ‘‘Til tear your lying tongue cut by the roots if you dare stand be- are a dying mother and the son she’s begging or! So terrible was that face in its just anger, that the medicine-man sprung back a pace or two, @ sharp cry breaking through his lips: a cry which brought an instantaneous response from the ghost-dancers. And as one man, the Indians came rushing in that direction. “Stop them, father!” sternly cried Silver- blade, drawing closer to his father, each hand whipping forth arevolver. ‘‘Jam Silverblade, but he is the busband of Weenumoo, and she is my mother! Stop them, or—” ‘We'll have plenty of company, David!” laughed Woodbridge, his face filling with the true battle light. ‘‘And Vil take you first, devil!” The loss of an instant would have cost the medicine-man his life, and just as certainly doomed both father and son to death at the hands of that rushing crowd of fanatics. But Silverblade caught the stockman’s hand, forcing it lower, until the pistol muzzle touched his own bare breast, “Through my heart, first!” he said, with a strange coldness, though bi3 eyes blazed brightly as they looked up to that startled face, With a gasp of horror, Woodbridge dropped the weapon, but as a low taunting ean came from the medicine-man, he rallied once more, “You devil! I'll cheat you even yet! David, are these crazy fools and evil schemers more to you than the dying kiss of your mother?” But Silverblade had turned to sign back the crowd, crying sternly: ‘Stop! you ere near enough, The father bids you stop short!” “Stop, my children,” coldly spoke the medi- ciné-man, lifting his hand. ‘‘1 called aloud that re might be witnesses to the battle between red lood and white, Now, Silverblade, make your choice, Which will you follow: the New Messiah, or this accursed white-face?” x CHAPTER XIV. A PARTIAL VICTORY. ‘WHICH will you follow, David Woodbridge; the hiss of this lving snake, or the dying prayer of your mother?” The stockman leaned over in his saddle, one hand gently touching the shoulder of his way- ward son. But at the same instant, the medi- cine-man, bold in the presence of so many of his fanatics, stepped forward to grasp an arm, ‘t Back, ye devil!” gnarled Woodbridge, strik- ing that band away with flerce hatred. ‘‘ Hands off, I eg Y “He is mine. He is red—all red! You are are a and—” ! . at are you, beneath that lying paint? Hands off, I say! If it comes to that, let these poor, deluded wretches take choice between two I am white—so are you! They have known me for tara her some of them from infancy, But you—what do they know of you, as you would show up when robbed of that coat of paint?” coe. oe ere TS NE a unanswered? Will you not come home, to mam- my, Davie, boy?” Silverblade shivered from crown to sole. He bent toward his father, then his lithe form swayed back, nearer the medicine-man. He seemed drawn both ways, and without strength to make a final cboice, Woodbridge. The prophet laughed softly. gave a low groan of pain, But he swiftly rallied, and lifting the pisto] he still held, mate to the one of which be had been deprived by his son, he pressed the muzzle against his own forelead as he sternly spoke: ‘*T told Weenamoo 1|’d bring her son if living: lll never go back to her alone!” ‘*Father!” ‘*Let him go!” harsbly cried the prophet. ‘* Let bim die the death! °*T will be one the less for our Messiah to smother under his death- wave!” Better for his evil schemes bad his tongue re- mained silent, just then, Superstition might bave conquered truth, even at such a terrible cost; but this coarse brutality proved the last feather, and David Woodbridge struck aside the band that would have detained him, springing to his father’s side with the words: ‘* Hold! don’t shoot, Vl go with— Tl go to Weenamoo!” The medicine-man lifted a hand toward the eagerly-watchful braves, but as swiftly dropped it again, without making the fatal signal. ‘**Go to Weenamoo, then, son of the Messiah,” he said, coldly, turning bis back upon father and son, ‘* Receive ber dying prayer, if you will, but assure her that ‘twill not be a long repose, When the Messiah comes, Weenamoo will be among the first to kiss bis feet!” With difficulty Woodbridge stifled bis anger, as his son bowed low toward that slow)]y-reced- ing figure. He knew that bis was but a partial victory, but he knew, too, that it might even now be turned into defeat should he risk too much, In grim silence be rode after Silverblade to where the horses of the party were staked out. In silence he watched Silverblade prepare bis animal for the road, This was not the spirit in which he bad boped to return to the sick mother, ct Ata it was better than not to return at a No further attempt was made to check or de~ Jay them, and the two borsemen were not long | in leaving the encampment behind them, | | For some time they rode in silence, neither seeming in the mood for conversation, and the first word was uttered by Silverblade when, after riding a mile or two, tte stockman turned aside fiom the course he bad been following, ‘¢ This brings the bad lands to our faces, The other trail is better for horses. Why desert it?” ‘* It’s better for others, as well, boy. A psck of painted devils could cut across and lie in wait for those who prefer smooth riding to rough.” ‘“You mean—” hesitated the youth, frown- ingly. ay ust that! I’ve pulled you out of yon devil’s jaws, and I don’t mean to let you fal)’ inte them again, if prudence can help me out!” ° ‘‘Luke Woodbridge—” ; ‘“‘Have vou forgotten how to say father so soon, David?” / Silverblade made no immediate reply. He bent his head rode on in silence for a few rods, He could feel that burning gaze upon his exposed cheek, but not until be bad conquered himself, did he turn in answer tothatsteady . look. , ‘Let it be ‘father,’ then—for the present,” he said, meeting that half-angry, balf-reproachb- ful gaze without flincbing in the least. ‘* Wby should I_ make matters worse by acting a lie, father? My belief has not changed since we talked together; or, if changed, it has only grown the stronger. I am right in castin aside all earthly ties, and when you have time to grow calm, when you have looked at both sides of the matter, you will be honest enough to con- fess as much, “Then coming of ; 4 KS. ou really put faith in this promised | an ‘Indiay Messiah, David? | nS Sed pnt aM i | : ‘ x Ss \ M “comicbhoo i, “ay iW 5 waa ~~ —_ a G e ik Le