Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 85 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

' 3 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. Suddenly they rounded a sweeping bend in the stream, and caught the star-like glimmer of the camp-fire, which they had left several hours before. The reflection of the rays from the black surface of the stream, had a cheerful ef- fect, like the glow of the settler’s cabin to the belated traveler, and the hunters eee the canoe, with long and powerful strokes, which | bounding like a swallow toward its des- tination. : When they had approached within a few hun- dred yards, they could see the figure of their friend, half-sitting and half-reclining upon the ground, in the free and easy posture of a wea- ried man, who is taking a quiet smoke after the labors of the day. He did not look up nor, stir his body. His face was toward them, but his head bent forward, as if he were lost in reverie, and the pipe, which a few moments before had rested between his teeth, had fallen out and lay upon the ground. It was singular that he did not move nor show ae consciousness of the af eee of his friends, although the dip of the paddles was audible for quite a distance in the stillness of the night. Suddenly a horrible fear thrilled through Buck Buckram, as with a tremendous sweep of his oar, he checked the boat, and in a hoarse whisper exclaimed: ‘“* He is dead, and the Apaches have set him up that way to cheat us!” CHAPTER IL. A GRAVE IN THE SOLITUDE. Back again into the goo and darkness of the night was the canoe driven by the startled Buck Buckram, while he and his companion cowered down, expecting the crack of the death-dealing rifle, and the exulting shout of the Apaches. But the same impressive silence rested upon wood and stream, as though no human being but themselves were m the solitude; and, when they had glided some distance, they quietly touched shore and stepped out. ‘* Are you sure you ain’t mistook about that?’ inquired Buck Buckram. ‘ No, sir,” was the earnest reply, in an under- tone. ‘It’s one of their infarnal tricks. Poor Tnglis has gone under, no mistake.” Where are the reds then?” “That was a little quaar. It looks as ehoagn after they had sent him under, they war satis- fied. Leastways, we'll soon find out.” Silently, cautiously, and stealthily the two moved through the woods in the direction of the desolate camp-fire. Quite a distance inter- vened, but the woods and undergrowth were so dense that the moonlight could not penetrate the gloom, and they could scarcely detect each other’s presence as they moved along side by side, within a few inches of each other. When they were within a hundred yards or so of the smoldering camp-fire they separated, so as to approach the camp from different di- rections, and satisfy themselves; whether any Indians were lurking in the viciaity or not and waiting to entrap them. The reconnoissance occupied fully an hour, but the end of it was, the overy that not an Apache was within:stri'sing distance. They had struck their blow and fled. As they sont ppprnsenes the camp they could see their friend in the same statio po- nr ners ion, which was such a semblance of life itself, that there are few who would not have been de- «ceived, The head drooped forward, hiding the face except the grizzly whiskers on the breast, while the hands hung listlessly by his side, as if he were in a quiet, dreamless << Satisfied that no danger threatened, the two came together. Buck Buckram being some- ‘what in ably acne oa oe and placed it upon the shoulder of the trapper. Tho instant he did so he displaced the sidiiful- ly arranged Props, and the latter fell forward upon his face, as limp and lifeless as the hunt- ing-shirt left upon his body. ; a examination was now, made, and it was . found that Inglis had been shot from behind by an arrow, which had d entirely throug the body, taking the heart itself in its course. Life been driven Fou ari re js wine more than a gasp upon the part of the unfortu- nate hunter. ae BY means of sticks, adroitly placed within his sleeves, his body had been raised and sup- ported in a sitting position, his coon-skin cap ar- zeae on his head, and even the pipe he was ing at the time the fatal blow was given, ~was placed again between his teeth, The Apaches had displayed no little art in sont i their attempts at deception. The undischarged inst is shoylder, just as the Tifle yested against mies, — watchful hunter holds his piece in a sort of idle embrace, where it can be seized at an instant’s ney 2 ; The Indians had evidently done this for the purpose of drawing the absent trappers into a snare; but, for some cause or Other, they had departed before their return, and the latter thus made a narrow escape. As there was still danger of the Apaches re- turning, the trappers withdrew beyond the cir cle of light thrown out by the camp-fire, and prepared to watch until morning, ready in case they did appear, to give.them a welcome which would partly repay them for the diabolical crime they had committed. It was a weary task, waiting and watching through al] the solemn hours of the night; but it was maintained vigilantly until morning. Twice during the night they caught the faint outlines of dark oe stealing along the shore of the creek, but they were gone before the eye could fix them, and the hunters maintained their positions without moving. The gray light began Greak th g at last, and when the forest was lit up, there were no signs of their enemies in the neighborhood. Buck- ram and Havens came out from their hiding- place, and approached the body of their fallen companion. Upon removin had been scal down his neck and face; but he was col motionless, and beyond the reach of all further suffering. A painful duty was upon the hunters. The had not the means of digging a grave, and it would never do to leave him above ground, where the wild animals would speedily find and rend him. ‘Ts there no place where we could put him away in the rocks?” asked Havens, as they stood looking mournfully at the remains of their late companion. ‘‘ No,” he replied, with a shake of his head, “that won’t do; we should have to carry him too far.” ‘‘Poor Inglis! I wonder whether he had a family?’ remarked Havens. ‘‘ I never met him until last winter.” Buck Buckram shook his head. ‘‘Nary a wife nor child. He came from Ken- tucky, and there was something about his leav- ing thar that I never understood, and he never liked to speak about. But Dick was a good fel- ler,” added the trapper, as he brushed a tear his cap it was found that he , and the blood was dripping an from his eye; ‘‘me and him have been in many a desperate scrimmage together, but it’s all over now,” ‘* And where shall we put him?” ‘““In the.water.” The pee struck Havens favorably, and they made their preparations at once. The body was lifted up tenderly and carried to the wa- ter’s edge, where it was-placed in the canoe that awaited them. A huge stone was laid beside it, and then Buckram took the oar. Apprehensive that there might be some lurk- ing Apache in the vicinity, they paddled up the stream for fully a half mile until they reached a race where the sunlight never penetrated, and the dark waters were so deep that no. bot- tom could be seen. The stone was then secured around the trap- r, and he was carefully lowered over the side. ey watched him until he rapidly sunk out of sight, and then, without exchanging a word, they took up their paddles and swiftly left the sad scene. CHAPTER III. THE YOUNG CAPTIVE. Since the trappers had Jos® one of their num- ber from the Indians, if would be wa that not only on account of their own safety, but for the gloomy associations connected with the place, they would have made haste*to change their quarters. : Their inclination at first was to do so; but, as there was an abundance of beaver around them, they decided to remain through the trappin season. They sincerely mourned the fall 0 their brave comrade, but they were too accus- tomed to death even in its most revolting shape, to allow it to interfere with’ their daily avoca- tions. As for Indians, they were everywhere, especially where white hunters or trappers were likely to congregate. Careful watch was kept for the Apaches; but, for a time nothing was seenof them. The trap- pers daily visited their horses, which were con- cealed in a deep ravine about half a mile dis- tant, and were gratified, as the days passed, to see that they were unvisited by their old ene- e ee UES EEIIREEEEneemmmmnmnsnss=sneteatetneet << er > OOOO ——————__ rr But matters could not always remain thus. The trappers had erected a rude sort of lodge, composed *of bark, logs, and stone, and one af- ternoon, returning to this earlier than usual their ears detected unmistakable evidence of its having been visited during their absence, The signs were slight, but they were convinc- ing. : me I am afraid we shall have to dig out of this,” said Buckram, after they had lit their pipes and discussed the matter, ‘‘it looks as though the varmints were laying some plan to nab us.” ‘Yas, and the only wonder is that they hain’t come on us afore,” replied Havens, who had more than once pro that they should “ pack up their traps” and leave. ‘‘They’ve had something better to ’tend to, in the way of ha’r raising than to look arter us; but, I allow we’d' better tramp without waiting much longer. So, if you'll go down and bring up the horses, Pll git Ee peltrieS’ ready, and this rnoon, we'll strike for the mountains,” It was now the dead of winter, although there was no snow upon the ground. The air was keen and sharp, and it was anything but plea- sant for the trappers to leave their rough but comfortable home, and make their way over the bleak prairies and through the chilly woods to some new beaver-runs. Havens acted ba the suggestion at once and started in quest of the horses, while Buck Buck- ram began bringing out the furs and packin them into the smallest possible compass, so tha they could be loaded upon one of their horses, an transported without difficulty to their new ome. He had serious thoughts of caching them, but, under the circumstances, there was too much risk run, as it would be impossible to con- ceal the hiding-place from the éagle-eyed Apa- ches, when the latter had any reason to believe that such a stratagem had been resorted to, So Buck Buckram brought out the beaver- skins, flat and outspread, and, as he flung them admiringly upon the ground, he could but stop and admire them for a few moments. ‘*Them ar’ what I call the rig’lar style,” he soliloquized, ‘‘ sich as a man don’t cotch ever time he goes a beaver-huntin’, and them wi bring a nice little pile of money down at Santa Fe or Taos, or wherever I take ’em.” He rubbed his hand over them as though he was smoothing the back of some favorite ani- mal, and added, as he proceeded to tie them up: “When I take them down to Santa Fe and turn them into good yaller gold, won’t some- body up among the mountains smile? I rather reckon she will!” » Soliloquizing and chatting with himself, he continued his work until they were secured in convenient bundles, By this time a couple of hours had passed, and he began to look for the reappearance of Dick Havens, He turned his eyes continually in that direction, and, as the time passed slowly by, a feeling of anxiety be- gan creeping over him—a feeling which. was startled into real alarm, when he heard from the direction he had taken the faint report of a gun. Without one thought of the loss of his pel tries, he instantly caught up his rifle and start ed toward his friend. In order to make the journey without loss of time, he found, after traveling a mile or so, at a peculiarly romantic and rocky portion of the route, that he wap, close to the creek, over which he and his com’, rade had passed so many times in their canoe, He was advancing in this manner when his experienced ear caught the ri ple of a paddle, and he drew back, just at the time to escape the observation of two Indians, who were seated in a canoe, rapidly paddling down-stream, and who passed ost at his very feet. Now, there was nothing particularly remark- in the sight of these two rere, as the were coe eet seen in this neighborhood; but, what arrested the attention of Buck Buckram, was the sight of a captive—nothing less than a girl scarcely a dozen het of age who was seat- ed the stern, with a finely-worked Apache sha sathenee about her. Her ong black hair streaming over her shoul- ders might have been taken for that of an In- dian; but the clear white skin was unmistak- ably that of a Caucasian, and her features were almost G in their perfect symmetry, while her figure gave evidence of ripening into one of extraordinary beauty of proportion. The Apaches and Comanches of the South- mort are —_ for the mies of heey which ey uently take, and, at ordinary times Buck mater, would not have been surprised at the sight before his eyes. But there was something in the appearance of this girl, which JOOKS GoM (eo