Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 94 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

: : ; 7 a | had been disturbed en ae RE OR RRS youth saw that the thought amounted almost to a conviction. “Stay hyar, boy,” said Rube, before Gopher Gid could respond to the road-agent! ‘“ I’d like to take you, durn my hide if I wouldn’t, but it’s too risky! An’ keep both eyes peeled, too. Ye’ve heer’d about Old Tanglefoot? He’ll be back this way.” ‘He will, assuredly,” declared Midnight Jack. “If you want to see the years of man- hood, don’t fall into his hands. He’s a bloat whisky-soaked by the contents of a thousand kegs; but his mind is as strong as ever, only the ‘devil is in him bigger than Pike’s Peak.” The night was well advanced when Midnight Jack and his companion bade the unsatisfied boy farewell, and he stood in the darkness like a youth in a dream, listening to the canter of their mules, Before departure Midnight Jack had superin- tended the burial of his horse and the slain say- ages, so that their bodies would not taint the atmosphere so near the boy’s hillside home, ‘‘He’s not a bad-looking man!” were the words that dropped from Gopher Gid’s lips. ‘But he’s made this road a terrible one to travel. They’d hang him in a minute at Dead- wood, and if he values his scalp he’d better stay out of Red Cloud’s land. Where did his sister come from, that he should find her here? I don’t believe he has one. [ll go up to the hole in the hill now, and get some sleep. It is no longer a secret home. I was a fool to follow old Tanglefoot. It made me too many acquaint- ances. [am known now. Hadn't I better take up my traps and leave? I was areal gopher be- fore I fell in with that rattle-brained man, and Midnight Jack and Tanglefoot.” The youth who was talking thus as he went up the narrow path that led through the under- rrowth to his hidden home, was not at his ease. ‘he secret of his secluded home had been dis- covered; other feet than his had actually crossed the threshold; he was no longer safe in the rich trap ing grounds of Dakota. ' ta like to see your sister, Midnight Jack, if she’s alive!” he said, pausing in the low door- way before he shut the portal. ‘I haven’t seen a white girl’s face for a year, and I'll never see yours, Dora, ’m thinking. Dora—what’s your name/—l’d like to see you! Midnight Jack’s sister. That sounds funny!” The boy could not repress the low laugh that bubbled to his lips, and while it still sounded he shut the door. A light which he struck inside revealed the interior of the place where he had dwelt unmo- lested for more than a year. There were steel- traps of many sizes, and a good display of pis- tols and rifles, with a lot of pelts, the products of his trapping. But now his hidden home had been discovered, not only by those who would befriend him, but by the vindictive Sioux, as he had reason to be- lieve. ‘You will not find me here when you come back, Rube,” he said, speaking out his thoughts, as he discussed a frugal meal alone. “ I’m go- ing to hunt new trapping-grounds, so far awa froma here that I’ll never think of Midnight Jac and his sister.” The look that covered the boy’s face as he spoke, told plainly that he had come to the con- clusion to‘leave the grounds where his solitude y scenes which he could never erase from his memory. He finished the meal, and carried the light to his traps. Setting it on the ety he began to untangle the chains, but his fingers moved slow- er and slower, until at last his body fell gently to one side, and Gopher Gid, the little trapper, was asleep, But it was the slumber of the cat, for all at once his eyes opened, and as they darted to the door, his fingers clutched the butt of a pistol. — Gopher Gid sprung erect, and fastened his eyes on the portal. Was it a bear? or had that man whom Mid- night Jack had pictured as:a fiend tracked him so soon to his home in the hill? The candle was burning low at his feet, and the room was growing darker each succeeding moment, but the awakening noise at the door still continued. The boy’s eyes were now ablaze with eager excitement, but his hand was steady. He saw the stick which was slowly o the door; but he knew that the chain t cured it would never admit a human bod For half an hour Gopher Gid waited head of the burglar to come in sight. In all that time he had not moved a foot. The candle was flickering in the socket; another moment, and it would leave him in darkness. ening at se- for the Midnight Jack. Suddenly the stick was withdrawn, and a shoulder seemed to be against the door. Then came in sight the semblance of a human head, and the next moment Gopher Gid saw the hideous face of Timon Moss, whose two lit- | tle eyes danced like dervishes in their cells. It was the most loathsome apparition that the boy-trapper had ever seen; but it did not unnerve his arm. He raised the revolver, and fired at the living target. At the same moment the candle went out, and left him in almost palpable gloom, CHAPTER V. BOUND FOR SIOUX LAND. Ir was still dark, but the roseate flush of dawn was not far off. With the flash of Gopher Gid’s revolver, Old Tanglefoot’s head disappeared as if a battering- ram had been applied to the cranium, For a long time the little hermit stood in the gloom at the side of the door, waiting for a re- appearance of his foe. Far above him glim- mered multitudes of stars, and the boy watched for that haunting head to show itself between him and one of the glittering worlds. But, without, all was still. The prowling co- yote withheld his bark, as if obe ing the com- mand of some dreaded master; the night owl, even, was still. After waiting for two hours with his heart beating audibly in his bosom, the boy began to think that his shot had disposed of his foe. Constellations went horizonward with their nightly regularity, and their light began to pale before the advancing step of morn. A Sigh of relief welled from Gopher Gid’s 1eart. ‘* He'll know better than to poke his head into a lighted room whose door is chained!” he said, a victorious twinkle in his eyes. “If I didn’t send the bullet into his head, I at least left my mark somewhere on his face. Why I never dreamed that he would follow my trail so soon. Midnight Jack is right; Timon Moss is a veritable demon.” If Gopher Gid had known that his words were falling upon the ears of the man he had men- tioned, he would not have made preparations to inquire into the result of his nocturnal shot as soon as day broke. Squatted like a toad, and with his repulsive face rendered doubly hideous by a long red streak across one cheek which bled profusely, Timon Moss sat behind some bushes which grew near the door of the cave home. In one hand he held the ungainly but dread revolver which we have already seen in his ripe. He peered through the bushes at the re waiting patiently for his prey to venture orth. Midnight Jack had not given the man a wron character. There were but few persons who real- ly knew him. He had noattributes of manhood left; the vilest of the vile, with the nature of the hyena coupled to a brutishness that ruled more than one Indian camp, Timon Moss had no equal. Whether engaged in the sale of smuggled somone or attending a sun-dance, clad in the paraphernalia of a Sioux chief, which rendered his squatty figure the more ridiculous, he never lost sight of one thing—hatred of the weak. His brutality had more than once call- ed forth Red Cloud’s interference in his behalf; for the brutal kicking of Indian children and ee dogs had put his worthless life in jesop- y: And this desperate specimen of humanity could bring certain Government officials into disrepute by some revelations which it was in as i | to make! e had not tarried long on the spot where Rube Rattler and the boy trapper had demol- ished his cargo of evil spirits. You touched Tanglefoot’s heart through,his whisky; and the loss of that was enough to arouse all the tiger- ishness of his nature. He turned his back upon Deadwood with an oath that would have driven the color from Gopher Gid’s face could he have heard, and threw himself upon that trail which had led him to the cave home of the boy who had incurred his uncompromising anger, His fiery eyeballs saw the morning dawn with no admiration for the pretty streaks of grayish light. ‘He knew that Gopher Gid was the sole tenant of the hole in the hill, and ready for the work in which he reveled, the spider waited for the fly. At last the door slowly opened, and the whisky-smuggler saw the anxious face of his boy enemy. ‘I didn’t kill him—that’s certain,” muttered 5 the boy trapper. ‘‘ Leastwise, he isn’t here to tell me this. Aha! Tanglefoot, that ball passed too near your face. It was a gentle reminder for you to keep your distance, and to knock when you come visiting.” Another step and Gopher Gid stood beyond the threshold of his habitation, and so near that the eyes of Tanglefoot seemed to dart their fire upon him, Suddenly the tiger in wait crouched nearer to the earth, and then, with a roar not unlike that of the jungle king, he sprung up and at his prey. Souler Gid heard the cry, and turned to see the bushes bend before the oe foe, and to find himself crushed back before he could lift the pistol clutched by his right hand. The twain went over together, the weight of the smuggler bearing his young victim to the ground, Gopher Gid ‘struggled with all his strength, which when exerted to its fullest capacity, made him no mean match, for a brief time, for the clumsy man. They rolled down the hill together, over and over, like amateur wrestlers; but the strength of Tanglefoot was bound to win. The boy tried in vain to yi from the smug- gler’s embrace; but it was like the hug of the she bear, and the fumes of bad liquor almost overpowered him. As Gid went back the re- volver was torn from his hand, nor could it be regained. Tanglefoot used no weapon, and when they reached the foot of the hill, Gid found himself lifted in mid-air and held out at arm’s- length by the panting ogre, For several moments Tanglefoot said nothing, but continued to glare at his prize. ‘** Caught!” he cried, ‘‘ Nobody who ever done Timon Moss a wrong ever got away in the end. It war fun to bu’st the whisky-kegs; but the laugh will be on the other side of the face afore the game is played cl’ar out. Say whar’s that j’inted individual who did most o the breaking, my delicate child? He called himself the Screamin’ Eagle of some kind o’ roost; but bless meef lever see’d ’im afore! What! ain’t yer goin’ to speak? Chaw a little talk fur King Ti- mon, er, by the ghost of Hamlet! I'll shake yer mossakins off.” As if to show Gopher Gid that his last threat was not an idle one, Timon Moss shook him un- til his bones seemed jumbled up in his body. ‘ Thet’s jest an instance!” said the smuggler, ‘pee (po at the pain which he could see his shake had caused. ‘‘ It’s a kind o’ preface; all books hev one; but I’ma volume what has two er three. Now you’ll talk. Whar’s the Eagle?’ “*Tf he was within gunshot you’d have found out,” returned the boy, with a good deal of spirit. ‘‘ ldo not know where he is.” : ‘* Gone off, eh?” c< Yes.” ‘‘ Alone? I heerd a good deal 0’ shootin’ while I war comin’ hyar. ho did it?’ * Midnight Jack.” Gopher Gid peered eagerly into Tanglefoot’s face to note the effect of his reply. The whisky-smuggler started a little; that. was all. “ Whar is he now?” *T don’t know.” Gopher Gid’s answer seemed to nonplus the avenger of the spilled spirits; he was at; his fin- ger’s-end for another question. All at once he broke forth with one that shot a malicious twinkle into his little eyes. ‘* Say, Gopher, did you ever see a sun-dance?”’ The y stared a moment, and said, ‘* No.” . — of them, eh?” ave, ‘“They’re goin’ to hev a bi Cloud’s town,” said Tanglefoot. ‘‘ Sixty hosses fur the Injun what kin hang the longest. The red boys ar’ comin’ from the lodges of the Teton Sioux, an’ thar’ll be more Injuns thar than you kin count. Sixty hosses! jist think of it! Thar- ll be some o’ the tallest hanging ever see’d in an Injun camp. Rain-in-the-F’ace hung four hours once; but they’ll beat his time all holler. goin’ up.” The fast sentence told Gopher Gid that he would in all probability be compelled to accom- pany Tanglefoot to the scene of barbarous fes- ivit one up at Red I’m *‘ Ar’n’t you afraid to go?” the young tra ventured to ask. — ‘Me?’ and Tanglefoot laughed boisterously. ‘‘ What! Timon Moss afeared to go to the Injun towns! He’s been thar afore—a king among dogs. Why, I’m a Sioux chief when he thar, They call me Squattin’ B’ar; not a melodious handle, but ruther appropriate. What ar’ you laughin’ at, boy? hinkin ” of a better name, eh?” Eonchbooks (E