Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 94 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

—=— See ee Pees Oe ee ——=— | | | | | | i ———— EE a ee oe eee i __—_ _________ owe. We ee ee od a we wv oe" -— _— + SS Ss eee i ee Cao al re) Midnight Jack, ** And the boy?” ‘** He would not betray us.” ** No! he would not; but that bloated spider— that tanglefooted—” A red hand fell admonishingly on the speak- er’s arm. ‘*A little too loud, Rube,” said a low voice. **Too much English in our tones. We'd better fall back on the Sioux gibberish. By George! tis lucky that we can speak the infernal tongue—” ‘* Like er native!” and there was a twinkle in the speaker’s eyes that would have proclaimed his identity to any one who knew Rube Rattler. ** We’ll consider the pistols safe,” he continu- ed. ‘‘Thet red gal war goin’ out to a cache. She may b’lieve in fastin’, but she don’t practice it. She’s got a sensible stomach.” The other—Midnight Jack—did not reply. His handsome eyes, a little watery, but deep, and full of expression, all the same, seemed to be gazing into the future, far beyond his cour- ageous companion. ‘*Runnin’ Water, ve been thinkin’ erbout suthin’ that might happen,” said Rube. ‘Ar’ ye listenin’?”’ ‘*'Yes,” said the other, now in the Sioux tongue. ‘Go on.” “What if that whisky-dog recognizes us to- morrer?” _The answer fell promptly from Midnight’s ps: ‘‘He must be shot dead before he opens his mouth! His eyes will first discover; his look will betray him. We must not hesitate.” ‘* But the justification?’ ‘** Never mind that. First the act; after that the excuse! Watch him narrowly, Rube; his mind is not deadened by the barrels of whisky which he has drank; it is active yet, full of devilish ingenuity. I say, watch Tanglefoot.” **T will!” was Rube’s quick er “Tf my dropper talks to-morrer, the golden gates may open fur Squattin’ B’ar!” The two daring men knew that they had courted a desperate emergency which might arise on the following day—the day for the sun- Ce, Midnight Jack—or Running Water, as the Sioux now called him—felt that he was not far from his sister. He had tracked her captors to the confines of the Sioux town; but as yet his keen eyes had not managed to discover her. Happily, his oo intercourse with hunting- rties of the red nation had given him aspeak- ing knowledge of their language, and his com- anion, who knew sqgmething of almost every ribe west of the Missouri, could, as he express- ed it, speak the tongue “ like er native.” This knowledge now stood the fearless twain in need. A new excitement, and one not unexpected, was likely to rise soon in the Sioux village. Midnight Jack expected to hear the tragic oc- currences of the Deadwood trail reported among the lodges; he even looked for that part of the wanes which bore his words of vengeance to be flung down in the great square by Red Cloud and his band, expected every moment from their visit to the United States forts. His absence from the village at the moment that we discovered him at the edge of the little belt of cottonwoods was caused by a desire to assure himself of the continued safety of his handsome revolvers which bore his wild name in deeply-cut letters on the sides of the bar- - rels These he had deposited in a hollow tree prior to his first entrance into the village. ere was one man there now who must not see those deadly weapons—Old Tanglefoot. His repeating rifle was not marked, and as many Sioux owned such a weapon of death, he excited no suspicion by carrying it with him. Having resolved upon the desperate act which we have heard them discuss should Tanglefoot recognize them on the eventful morrow, Rube Rattler and the road-agent went back into the village. It was now near midnight. The drums had ceased to sound, and but few Indians remained in the square. The rest had sought their lodges, there to dream of the bru- talities of the sun-dance, and to prepare their bodies for the endurance which many of the younger bucks had determined on in face of the — led = + ‘*Hyar ar’ the ropes—strong enough to hold an ox up,” whispered Rube, as he and the road- agent began to inspect the loft torture-pole in the dim light of the stars. ‘‘You’ve see’d the sun-dance, Mid—cuss it all! I mean Runnin’ Water.” “T have not, strange to say, but—” ‘““T hev!” was the interruption. “The red dogs run a knife through the thick muscles of the breast—right hyar—an’ put in a good wooden skewer. ‘To this they tie one of these ropes, an’ then they dance about the pole, an’ fall back with their full weight. It’s terrible! Some- times the muscles give’way soon; but if they’re extra tough they hold out five hours. It’s a sickenin’ sight. I saw old Rain-in-the-Face hold out fur four hours in the hottest sun that ever Dbiled water. He was just the kind o’ man to kill Custer—the bravest Injun in the West.” ‘Did you ever try it, Rube?’ asked Midnight Jack. “No! but [ could ekal Rain-in-the-Face. We oughter do suthin’ to-morrer to keep our credit good. The reddies ‘ll throw out some might strong hints at us. If we don’t notice ’em, it may create suspicion. Id like to try the dance once.” sé You 9”? ‘“Yes, me! the Screamin’ Eagle of the Smoky Roost, alias the Red Jingo of the Little Big Horn.” Midnight Jack was silent for a moment. ‘You'd better not, Rube. You’ll have other use for your muscles before we get out of this devil land. Think of my sister, very near us now, no doubt. Leave the sun-dance alone; let Indians mutilate themselves.” But the eld borderer was not to be diverted by his companion’s words. In his mind he had determined to attempt the sun-dance on the morrow; and become the only white man who had submitted his body to the horrible torture. Silently the two adventurers glided from the square, and sought the lodge which setting Sun had allotted to them as visitors. As yet the death of Feel-the-Sky had not been discovered, and Mouseskin’s trumpet was still mute. Midnight Jack threw himself upon the scanty skins within the lodge, and soon fell asleep. After awhile he was startled by a touch which drew him into a sitting posture in the gloom of the hut, ‘‘Tt’s only me!” said a well-known voice at his . We've got to do one of two th leave the Injun shanties now, or kill Tanglefoo to-morrow!’ Midnight Jack was thoroughly awake. “Go away, without my sister? Never!” he cried. ‘* Weill shoot Tang efoot.” ‘*‘ Before the hull tribe?’ ‘6 Yes.” “But he’s Squattin’ B’ar!” ‘He shall not betray us!” was the answer. ‘‘ Does he suspect us, Rube?’ ‘* Kinder so.” ‘Then not for certain!” ** He’s makin’ up his mind fast. I b’lieve he’s been watchin’ us. ' At that moment a most unearthly yell rung through the village. Our two friends sprung erect and listened. CHAPTER IX. GOLDEN GEORGE, THE NEW FOE. “What is it?’ whispered Midnight Jack, whose voice was accompanied by the low click- ing of the revolver which he held in his dyed ‘A co hez been found!’ was Rube’s uick rep Y- “lve heerd that yell afore. mebody hez passed in his checks.” The natural words, ‘‘ If a murder has been committed, they may suspect us,” struggled to the road-agent’s lips. Rube did not reply, but with lips firmly set, was 4 tes listening to the echoes of the weird cry that had shaken the still air of the summer’s a es But he felt the full force of his companion’s utterance. “Did you hear me, Rube?” Midnight asked, impatientl ; I heerd,” was the answer, which was almost drowned by the lonely howling of some gaunt Indian dogs. ‘‘ Thar’sa good deal o’ truth in what you said, Midnight; but “a stiff upper lip” is the motto. Thar goes the devil-cry ag’in! Gosh! it sends chills down a fellar’s back.” The cry that had first assailed the friends’ ears was now repeated—a little more prolonged than its predecessors, and certainly divested of none of its repulsiveness. ‘‘T’m goin’ out,” said the old borderman. ‘The Injuns are turnin’ out; we must not stay hyar an’ give ’em cause fur in’ us, even if murder hez been done an’ we ar’ innercent.” A moment later the disguised whites stepped out into the moonlight, and into a scene of con- fusion utterly indescribable. From everywhere ——>$__— the Sioux were issuing from the lodges, uttering cries which confirmed Rube’s explanation of the first yell. Men, women, children and dogs com- the disordered rabble that rushed toward he dancing square. The girl-hunters joined the savages, and soon learned the true cause of the hubbub. A young Indian stood over the rigid body of a warrior of his tribe. He was gesticulating wildly as words fell rapidly from his lips. ‘* Feel-the-Sky hez been found dead—knifed to the heart,” whispered Rube Rattler in an ear which he at first took to be Midnight Jack’s, but the next moment, to his horror, he discovered that he had addressed a genuine Sioux warrior, who was staring amazedly into his face. For a second that perilous error seemed to un- nerve the borderer’s heart; but his quick wit came to the rescue. =: “The wrong ear, my brother,” he said in Sioux. . ‘‘ You are not Squattin’ Bear.” ‘‘Bear over there!” was the reply, and the Indian pointed to the other side of the crowd formed about the corpse and its finder. “ Feel- the-Sky is dead. There are bad knives in the village.” Rube nodded, and hastened to leave the dan- gerous locality, touching Midnight Jack’s arm as he moved away, and without a word the twain slipped into another part of the awe- stricken group. There was to the assembled savages a mystery about Feel-the-Sky’s sudden pee. off that per- lexed them. The chiefs were no less mystified han the underlings. Many pressed forward and examined the knife which had been found by the corpse, and shook their heads over it. It was a genuine Sioux knife, without any mete weer mark. There was blood on the stag-horn handle, and the same dark stain on the ragged-edged but needle-point- ed blade. The finder of the corpse offered no solution of the mystery; but there were several young In- dians who exchanged nen glances when they caught sight of the dead. “White girl kill Feel-the-Sky and run off!” w red one. ‘Not strong enough.” ‘‘ White girl’s quick asacatsometimes. Catch Feel-the-Sky asleep, mebbe; find knife in the lodge. If she no kill Feel-the-Sky, who did?” ‘“Come! we go see.” Determined to set their doubts at rest, the red trio stole secretly from the crowd, crossed the square, and glided toward the scene of the nocturnal tussle between Feel-the-Sky and his assassin. They were the Indians who had helped to snatch Dora Lightway from her brother’s pro- tection down on the Deadwood trail; they had witnessed and assisted in the dyeing of the captive’s skin, and, for a few horses and a rifle or two, had sold their interest in her to the In- dian who now lay dead on the dancing-square, slain by Mouseskin, the bugler. ‘“‘Stay hyar, or meet me in the lodge,” whis- pered Rube, this time at the right ear. ‘* Some young bucks are up to su’thin’.” He had caught enough of the young reds’ words to excite his curiosity, and, leaving Mid- night Jack in the crowd, elided off after g@be trio just mentioned. ter awhile, when the body-finder had ceased, and the dogs could to a certain degree be quieted, Feel-the-Sky’s body was taken up by os ing Sun’s command, and borne toward his e. idnight Jack watched the proceedings with no little interest, and stepped respectfully back to let the procession pass. —— He seemed to breathe with joy; the voice of Tanglefoot had not been raised against him, and from what opinions he could gather, the Indians seemed to think that some red assassin had terminated their brother’s existence—that an old feud had been settled. Setting Sun had said that the startling death should be investigated in the morning, and be- fore the beginning of the sun-dance. Upon this the crowd began to disperse, watch- ed with interest by Midnight Jack. The female rtion especially came under his scrutiny, for e was always seeking for one figure, Gearer than all others on earth to him. Suddenly a voice came from a dusky-faced oup near by that chilled the life-current in the road-agent’s heart. “They’re here—two of them,” said that start- ling voice, not in the Sioux but the English tongue. Richt in the camp, Golden George! I know ’em, too; but Settin’ Sun an’ the rest never dream of the facts.” erm a 4 -_——, ~oe-- e mee = IOOKS (E Sat com