Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 729 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

: ee: a ~ : 4 ant "_ & os : Silverblade, the Half-Blood. 3 glance in passing. The Messiah would not ask | of them more than they were able to give! For uearly a mile tbat curious procession wound through the darkness, Red Leaf finally coming to a pause near the foot of a rocky bill, or range. For the second time he turned slowly around, bis head bent back, his lungs emitting a guttural sound, the padded drumstick quiver- ing above the tightly stretched skin: to finally fall with a dull, hollow thump! as the a a onee more faced the white rocks rising high above their level. He jerked the muffler from his head and cast one sweeping glance around, His head bent as though in silent prayer, drum and drumstick failing unheeded at his feet as bis arms formed & cross over his bosom. “Is it here, oh, father?’ huskily muttered Shooting Backward, ‘¢Tt is here, my children!” cried the medicine- man, in clear, ardent tones, seeming to lose his professional gravity in the excitement of the moment. ‘Quick! kindle a fire, that no shad- ows may mask a face from the eyes of the com- ing Messiah!” Dry leaves and grass were readily found, and five minutes later a crackling fire was banishing the gloom from that spot; its ruddy glow lighting up each rudely picturesque figure, bringing forth euch feature of old face and young, a8 the delegation stood in almost painful suspense, awaiting the coming of the Indian Messiah whose wondrous fame had spread so widely turoughout the land, Red Leaf faced the white/rocks, his arms up- lifted, his face thrown into strong relief by the flames against the outer darkness, ‘‘Weawait thy coming, all-powerful father! Our eyes are longing to sea, our ears open to re- ceive, thy precious message! If doubts still lurk in our hearts, it needs but a glimpse of thy face to make all clear, all pure, all faithful for- ever more! Come to us, oh, mighty spirit! Speak to thy children that—” , ‘*T am here,” sounded a deep, yet hollow voice, coming from—whither?” The Indians stared upward, but saw nothing to account for that voice. It appeared to come from high up the rocks, yet nothing more than those dim, ghostly outlines were visible. Of them al', Red Leaf alone seemed able to distin- guish the form of the speaker, and he bowed his head in reverence, crossing his arms over his heart as he said: ‘* | thank thee, mighty father! Now that thou hast revealed thyself unto our eyes, add to our happiness by giving these, thy children, good words to take back to their people.” ‘‘ What is it these children would have?” asked the voice, “Clearer eyesight, for one thing,” boldly spoke up Silverblade, on whose strong, yet handsome face there hung a shadow which no fire-glow alone could dissipate. ‘‘ We hear, but we cannot see. If we are to bear a message back to our people, they will ask us what man- ner of lips gave birth to the words, Must we tell them we saw nothing?” “Te the heart of eenamoo’s child was cleaner, bis eyesight would not require strength- ening,” sternly uttered the voice, now speaking in the Shoshone dialect, ‘A doubter may hear and live, If he — and does not believe im- plicitly, he surely will die!” ‘Be it so!” almost defiantly cried the youth, his lithe figure drawn proudly erect, ‘Brush the dust from my eyes, mighty father! If I am to die, it is so written! Only—let me see, as well as hear !” There came no answer to this appeal, in words, but slowly a light began to grow in front of the white rocks, midway up the stony range, And as their strained eyes caught sigbt of this, one and all of the delegation watched its growth in breathless suspense, Little by little the light strengthened, forming itself into an segniar column several yards in hight, and more than as many feet in width, the edges of which seemed to flicker and sway in tremulous waves, yet ever retaining the same proportions. It was different from the red glow of the fire below, yet was unlike the yellow of candle or lamp. It had @ faint tinge of green, and though so dim, even pow 1b proved straining to those eagerly-watching eyes, giving them much the impression lent by an eclipse of the sun, Red Leaf sunk upon his knees, his arms crossed, his head bent as though im reverence, low matterings passing his painted lips, But none of the others moved or altered their posi- tions. They could only gaze, and wonder, and wait for the end. Brighter clearer grew the light, yet even then it possessed a peculiar mistiness, It was almost as though a strong light was being turned upon a column of grayish-green smoke, Then came the change for which tbe Indians were watching; for, upon that illuminated col- umn, a human figure was growing, dim and ghostly at first, but gradually gaining body and outlines, until all eyes could make out the form of an ayed man, with long hair and full beard of snowy whiteness, wearing a gray blan- ket after the Indian fashion, the folds meeting beneath his right arm, leaving that bared mem- ber free for use or gesticulation, But little beyond this was distinguishable even by the keenest among those startled eyes, for the smcke-like background wavered in the light breeze, and that ghostly vision grew clearer, only to fade again in time with those waver- ngs, ** Do you still doubt, child of He-That-Fights- Long?” asked the voice which had first startled them, the bared right arm lifting, its band pointing toward Silverblade as be still stood rigidly erect, he ghost of a smile flitted across the young man’s face as he beard those words, spoken in English, and he gravely made reply: ** IT see, but I do not hear, great father. Iam all Silverblade, now. I have put away white talk with my white blood, For the time I was old enough to begin to have dreams of the war- path, my feet were forced to enter the White- man’s Road, I followed it until there came to my ears strange whispers of a New Messiah, then the red blood bequeathed my veins by He- That-Fights-Long, began to stir and sting and call out for—what, great father?” ** For the truth!” ‘** It may be as my father says,” bowed Silver- blade, gravely. “If I bad not left bebind me all white blood, I might be wiser, now. I can hear what sounds like words, but cannot under- stand them,” ‘* You have heard my message, given through my chosen mouth-piece, Silverblade,” sternly said the vision, but now speaking the Shoshone dialect, ‘* You have refused to believe, though the words came from a straight tongue. You are still in doubt, sea you have come so far to learn the truth. hat sball I say to clear the mud from your mind?” ‘“*Tell me the plain truth, great father,” with another bow, his erect figure forming a strong contrast to those kneelin , bowed forms; for all save Silverblade had imitated the example set by Red Leaf, when that strange vision took to itself a voice, ‘* If I should do this, will you have faith, son of Weenamoo?” ‘*I will try; I am trying now, great father. I ask no greater gift than implicit belief, but— bear with me, father,” as the ghostly shape flung up hls arm as if in impatience, ‘‘ Remember how long I bave walked in the W hiteman’s Road, Remember how mapy cunning tricks and won- (lrous impostures I have witnessed while so walking. And if pale-faces can do all that, with only sport for payment, may they not do even more, when all this vast land is at stake?” “Then you believe the Indian Messiah is a pale-face trickster?’ ‘*T do not say that, great father,” was the grave response, ‘I will not even think it, but —I have seen fully as wicked tricks as this would be, if true. And knowing what the pale-faces can do, when they try, I wish to keep my people from suspecting anything of that sort. And for their sake, even more than for my own, I beg the great father will give us some positive proof that he is, what we dearly long to believe, not only a Messiah, but one whose coming is to benefit the red-men,” ** What proof do you ask, son of Weenamoo?” “The Messiah knows everytbing,” with an- other bow, then gazing fixedly upon that ghostly figure against the rocks, ‘‘I am but a poor, ignorant Shoshone, whose sole merit is that he wishes to Jearn the whole truth. Asa Shoshone have spoken, and the great father has replied. But all bere are not familiar with the tongue of the Mother Snake, One—there is a great chief present: let the Messiah speak to him in bis own tongue!” : As he spoke, Silverblade pointed toward one of the kneeling figures by the fire, and before an answer could be given, Red Leaf cried out: “Rise up, Shooting Backward, head chief of the once mighty Grosventres! Rise up, and hearken unto the Messiah!” Tremblingly the aged warrior obeyed, hands crossed above his heart, his sunken eyes fixed reverently upon that awesome vision. Silverblade frowned blaeckly, but Red Leaf was still bowed, and caught not that burning ‘cease his mad test, Eaten. If he had spoken with a pur , noth ng in his manner now betrayed that fact, o you believe in the Messiah, Shooting Backward?” asked that figure, addressing the Grosventres in bis own dialect. ‘‘T bave perfect faith, mighty father,” bowed the chief, ‘‘ I never doubted the truth from the first. I only came so far; that I might go back to my people and tell them what my eyes saw, what my ears heard, in order that they, too, might believe and be saved,” “It is well with thee, my son, and so shall it be well with thy people when they have heard your report,” He stretched out bis bare arm, as in a bene- diction, and with a choking breath, Shooting Backward sunk to his knees in silent adoration. ‘‘Have I answered your test. son of Weena- moo?” sternly demanded the Messiah, turning toward Silverblade and speaking in Shoshone. ‘‘ Are you satisfied that I am not an impostor?” ‘* You have spoken to the chief of the Gros- ventres, father, and he basanswered you, Still, J can do so much. I can speak to a dozen red- men, each in his own dialect, and each red- man will understand what I tell bim. Yet—I am but a poor, ignorant Shoshone, Iam buta weak mortal. Tbe Indian Messiah should be more—much more than that !” ‘*Do you dare even hint that be is not more?” harshly demanded the voice, ‘T dare nothing, mighty spirit. I only say what might be, if the white men wished to sweep our people from off the face of the earth, by fooling them into such a terribly unequal fight. How long would they be able to stand up before the rifles of the soldiers, if—” ‘*Forever, if the Messiah so willed it! Bee!” and his arms flew out to each side as his blanket dropped from his naked bosom. ‘ You are all armed with the terrible rifles of the whites, Aim at my keart! Shoot straight, and if I die, then am Lan impostor! Shoot, Silverblade!” Swift as thought, the youth raised bis Win- chester and fired straight at that bared breast! CHAPTER ITI, A PROUD HEAD BOWED DOWN. WirHout stopping to ccunt the cost, Silver- blade accepted that sternch allenge, and with actions so swift that no mere mortal could have foiled them by ducking or dodging, he covered that exposed breast and fired, not once alone, but thrice, as rapidly as bis prac- ticed hands could manipulate the repeating- rifle. Startled, the kneeling Indians lifted their heads, some shrinking back in horror, others with a touch of curiosity mingling with their awe, but the eyes of all riveted on tbat iJlumined shape which meant so mueh to their awakened hopes and passions, _ The shape swayed gently, but so it had done before those shcts, in the faint breeze that rustled the drying leaves, At the second shot it even seemed to recoil slightly, and its left arm came back to cover its bere bosom; but only for an instant. And when Silverblade breathlessly peered through the smoke of his own making, to note the effect of these shots, the vision stood as before, without visible in- jury. ‘‘Has the son of Weenamoo forgotten how to shoot straight?’ asked that voice, in stern mockery. ‘‘Is that ome of the terrible rifles hefore which no red-man could stand, and live?” With a choking sound Silverblade fired shot after shot at the vision, shifting bis aim from head to limbs, seeking some vulnerable spot, ae that broad bosom seemed proof against his ead, Not a hand was lifted to check his actions though more than half of the delegation bad sprung to their feet, and Red Leaf was ckanting wildly one of his wordless songs, Only when the dull click of the falling bam- mer told of an empty magazine, did Silverblade Then the smoking rifle dropped from bis hands, He stared dizzily at that spectral shape, looking in vain for b! or wound, Instead, he beheld the figure lift its blanket from where the belt kept it from falling below its middle, drawing the folds gracefully about body and shoulder, the arm left bare mak- ing a gesture as of pitying scorn. Despite the strong emotions which filled his heart and brain, the balf-blood knew that his hands had been steady, bis eye true to his will, A better rifle had never been built, and he knew that each bullet had sped true to hisaim. Then —what was this? His head slowly bowed, his trembling bands lifting as though to lend it ny il His bands crossed over bis breast, but firmly, flercely as com (elo) cbooks