Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 729 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

OL te ge ad - Sr sae Scere Silverblade, the Half-Blood. 15 Leaving the cyclone-pit, the two pards joined the Cheyenne scouts in their bastily prepared meal, but both Silverblade and Horton declined the proposal made by Lieut, Casey, that they join him in the chase of Darnell’s gang. ‘*T'll try to be in at the death, pardner,” nod- ded the Border Beagle, ‘‘ but the ladies come first, in my mind, I’m going to see them safe under a friendly roof, before Ido anything else, But if Davie, here, cares to go, you’ll find him equal to your very best.” ‘*Silverblade is going—but not on the white man’s road,” coldly said the half-blood, abruptly rising and turning away. Big Horn Buck quickly followed after, for something in that face gave him a disagreeable warning of what the future held in store, ** Davie, lad!” he called out, when beyond ear- shot of the others, ‘‘ David is dead. Iam Silverblade,” ‘¢ Be Silverblade, then, but don’t be a lunatic, pard!” said Horton, as he slipped a hand through that reluctant arm, slowly moving on as the half-b'ood declined to stay his steps al- together. ‘‘ You must get that absurd craze out of your brain, sooner or later: why not right now?” “If it is crazy to walk in the trail marked out by the Messiah, then Silverblade will stay crazy. He has seen, he has heard, He has stood face to face with the New Messiah, and when his bullets failed to kill the shining truth, then the last drop of white blood flew out of his body.” **T tell you, boy, it was all a cunning trick, and Ill prove as much, if you’ll only give me time enough. You were fooled by that devil, the father of John Godfrey, and if you go on as he started you, you'll bring up in a bloody grave, if no worse!” Silverblade quietly but resolutely set his arm free, facing the detective, his black eves witha red tinge in their depths, his voice hard and un- shaken, ** Big Horn, drops of poison fall from your tongue, but my ears are closed to them, and they cannot sink so deep as my heart, for the way to that is filled’ with the blessing of the In- dian Messiah. 1 donot curse your belief: why should you try to blacken mine? I bid you go the road your heart tells you is right: why do you step in front of the Shoshone when he fol- Lows the trail marked out by his Great Father, the New Messiah?” ‘* Because that trail leads to death! Because I promised your father and your sister, Enola, to bring Davie back to their hearts, if I ever was lucky enough to meet him again.” ‘There was a mother: did Weenamoo, too, beg Big Horn to steal her son away from the In- dian Messiah?” Horton ehanged color, but be would uot lie, even then, vise bie didn’t know I expected to meet ‘Or Weenamoo would have said: ‘ Tell the randson of He-That-Fights-Long, to be true to is blood, his color, his belief!’ And thatis what Silverblade means to do, Big Horn, unless you stop him, right here,” i de to pie Tonly could /” ‘‘There is only one way: call yond : hearts with red skins! Tell them that Silver. blade is going to join Sitting Bull, the represent- ative of the Indian Messiah, Say that Silver- blade means so anes and aa ae Phost-shirt, and dance again—dance u ® Indian Mes- Mali comer down to earth) with the death-word on his ! oT f cata half as much, Davie, they’d put yor ees; ria kill you trying!” exploded the rder detective. ‘They are yonder; Silverblade is here; Big Horn can send his voice further than that, Why does he not shout aloud the woras?” coldly asked the yous ee a curious smile curling his lips the walle, at I'd ought to doit, too! But—you’d fight the lot, Davie, and when it came to that pitch, Pd have to poke you die, by fighting with you! that— ORT Ae Bla Horn look back,” said Silverblade, ‘ing his arm, his somber face lighting up touching ! ’ 1 with a brief smile as he rites 2 beled “dn Dancer, who was i hier ry, ctl tye ur vas Rven from here the 90s ie ¥ ee two bright eyes, Would Big eae ng Litter tears a Thro walt this seeneybee Davie, and I’ll do wo ’ ges en ety 2 es mbar oarsely mu ’ ing pale as its liberal coating of tan would admit, S ‘ll be the making of you, and—' ‘ She is to be won, but not by Silverblade, that smile passing into a low, friendly laugh, as he added rapidly: ‘* Love lies back of those bright eyes, brother, but it is not for the Sho- shone. Sing the sweet song in her ears, brother, and when she answers back, take her to your heart and—carry her far across the salt water! You are white, you scoff at the Indian Messiah, but Silverblade canuot hate you, even for that! And so he says—Flee from the wrath to come, while there is yet time!” With those words, the young fanatic sprun back from the bands which would kave detaine bim, and then turned away, his face set toward the distant agency, where be expected to find Sitting Bull, CHAPTER XVI. SILVERBLADE, THE GHOST DANCER, THE camp of Sitting Bull, mighty medicine- man of the Sioux! That camp, when the reader is asked to gaze upon the weird exhibition taking place under the immediate supervision of the crafty old sinner, Sitting Bull, was located in a ** pocket,” with a river flowing on the south, and low- lying hills circling to the east, north and west, Inside of this natural amphitheater is a mile equare of almost perfectly level country, mark- ed with timber along the base of the elevated grounds, Near the center of the level tract rises a tall pole, striped with bright paint, and ornamented with fluttering bits of ribbon and bright cloth. It is the medicine-pole of the (thost-Dancers, East of this pole, stands the Medicine Lodge of Sitting Bull, now occupied by himself, putting on the last touches of paint which each brave must wear before joining in the ghost-dance, The prophet wears his ‘ghost shirt, gayly embroidered with parti-colored beads forming a twisted serpent across his shoulders, and em- blems painted on its front. His face also bears the mystic symbols of the society. A deep blue- black ground-work, on each cheek a red cross, on chin and forehead a blue crescent, while in his long hair are white, fluffy feathers of the eagle; pure white from tip to stem, for these are not the painted eagle-plumes worn by warriors, but the badge of the secret society known far and wide as Ghost Dancers. The braves intending to join in the dance on this occasion have formed in line, and each one pauses before an assistant prophet, who imprints each cheek with a red cross, before the candidate is passed into the Medicine Lodge for the finger of Sitting Bull to add the crescents in blue. After this is done, the braves pass out and form in a slowly growing circle around the medicine-pole, only waiting for the signal from Sitting Bull to begin their daily dance, which ends only when exhausted nature gives way. ‘*' Why is the Shoshone alone?” groffily demand- ed Sitting Bull, as a slender, lithe shape humbly bowed before the mighty medicine-man. ‘“‘ Are all of the Snake Children passed away from earth?” “Their eyes are still filled with dust, father, but the breath of the Indian Messiah will surely blow that away,” was the low, grave response, ** Until then, se a will dance and pray for all bis e, The fine tavint was laid on, and the young Shoshone passed from the lodge to take his sta- tion in line, : At length the circle was complete, and Sitting Bull stepped forth from his lodge, medicine-staff in hand. He lifted the rod, and the fanatics eg hands, locking fingers in a grip that could not be broken without mutual consent, Thump / echoed the hollow note of an Indian drum, and each dancer bent his sar backward until his eyes were staring upward. sig oy, Another note, and the circle.begins moving slowly to the left, each foot falling with a solid jar, keeping perfect time, Thump ! Thump ! Thump ! Sitting Bull tosses his medicine-staff high into the air, clapping his bands sbarply three times before he catches the falling wand. And then the ray aterjous ghost-dance is fairly under head- way Slowly at first, but gradually quickening their time, still gazing up with glazing eyes at the noonday sun, still stamping in unison, the units forming a perfect whole, circle around pntil the brain grows dizzy with merely watchibg them Faster and faster as the voice of Sitting Bull breaks forth in a guttural chant. Faster still, until the medicine-man ceases bis invocation with a shrill screech, And then, first one, then another of the Ghost Dancers begin a panting chant of their own each unit forming his own supplication, but all of the same general tenor, ‘* Wather, father, we want to see you! ‘* Father, father, our hearts are aching fora sigbt of thy face! ‘*Father, father, we want to behold the butf- falo coming back! ‘* Father, father, send us back the days that have vanished! ‘* Tbe days when all this country was ours! ‘* Father, father, bring back those happy days! ‘‘Father, father, make us strong, to drive away the white man! ** Father, father, our ears are sore with listen- ing for your step! ‘Father, father, our hearts ara crying bloody tears for you!” Ard Silverblade, the son of Weenamoo, was one of the Ghost Dancers! Lieutenant Casey made his word good, and with his gallant Cheyenne Scouts, he took the trail, pressing along it until the marauders were overtaken with their valuable booty, Thanks to the shrewdness displayed by Big Horn Buck in Rolin back the irate Dancer family, Dave Darnell firmly believed that the entire party was dead—roasted amid the ruins of the log cabin, dying in sullen silencerathber than gratify their enemies by rushing forth to meet death in a less horrible shape, And so believing, the out- law was far less on guard than would have been the case under other circumstances, and fellan easy prey to the Indian Scouts, A few of the evil gang escaped by speedy flight, but, as a band, it was destroyed, jeutenant Casey gathered up the scattered horses, and brought tbem back in safety, And from that day until the present, the ‘* Friend~- lies” had no stronger representatives than Big John and bis family. The Border, Beagle, too, was true to his word, and refusing to join the Poa party, though urging Big John and his two sons to go, he guided Norah Dancer and ber daughter, Mary, to the nearest ranch, He would bave done this without help, had not neighbors—though living so.distant, still ** neighbors” in the truest sense of that much abused term—come upon the scene, drawn thither by the glow of the burning ranch, Still, it might have been worse, True, there were eyes all around them, but Big Horn Buek could draw pretty Mary apart far enough from the rest—including her mother—for many a confidential whisper, many an ardent look which almost as clearly as words, and a great deal safer! revealed the fire that had sprung wp in bis honest heart! And Mary? Big Horn tried his level best to win a fair look in return, but all his arte failed him, dur- ing that long ride, And yet—the doughty de- tective did not entirely despair. “Pll hope you can find it in your heart to re- turn my love, little lady, until your lips swear that you never can, while your dear eyes gaze straight into mine!” he whispered, as he lifted her lithe form in bis arms from the saddle, when the ranch was reached, Even then Mary made no reply, unless it la in the soft flush that tinged her eheek as h mustached lips gently brushed it as she came to the ground, That was only a few montbs ago, but the Border Beagle had never yet lingered lazily on a soent after once striking it, and be sure he did not go back on his record while following this love-trail. And s0, after the pernicious ghost- dance craze was smothered by the killing of Sitting Bull, and the exciting events which fol- lowed that fortunate tragedy, the day came around on which pretty Mary not only met that ardent gaze, but shaped words with her red lips which—well, it was not hatred of which ee talked, after! he Border Beagle played well his part throughout those exciting weeks, and when Sil- verblade, the Ghost Dancer, finally awoke to the truth, Big Horn Buck played a prominent part in that conversion, But before that day came around, the young Shoshone was to pass ease many exciting scenes, was fated to see and suffer much, but through it all, he was true to oe sense of right, mistaken though that might It may be that that part of his experience will find a record, just as his temptation and bis fall bave been placed before the public: but if not, let it suffice that the day was to come when his eyes would once more open to the truth, and his —_ nore ms mare man’s road,” which alone can lead the red-man to ha and prosperity, AH THE END, com ,0'0kKsS.com