Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 942 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

i : touched the trigger. “ Yes, he will pass nearer than he is now; then I will send a bullet through his heart, if he is in the midst of a hundred of his gallant soldiers. “ They can fire at me, but their bullets will pelt the rocks harmlessly, and, fly- ing to my horse, I can be off like the wind, with no one to pursue, for they cannot reach. this ridge without riding for miles around. ‘* Now, Carrol Doan, colonel in the Unit- ed States Army, your minutes of life are numbered, for 1 will kill you.” The speaker was crouching among some rocks upon a rugged ridge a hundred feet in height, that overhung a trail along which a party of horsemen were traveling. In the front rode two men in buckskin, one a rough-looking fellow, sunburned, long-haired, and bearded, with small, dark, piercing eyes; the other,a splendid speci- men of the beau ideal plainsman, tall, with a’ magnificent form, broad shoulders, graceful, and a perfect horseman, while his face Was one to see and remember a lifetime. ‘ The former was the guide of that wild country, the latter was Buffalo Bill. Behind them rode a cavalry command, escorting the colonel commanding Fort Belvue, a post lately established in the Indian country, and with him were sey- eral officers, while following in an ambu- lance were two ladies and a girl of four- teen. li was of Colonel Carrol Doan the words were spoken which open this story, and who, little dreaming of a hidden foe near— an enemy of the by-gone, who had recog- nized him at a glance even in that far- away land—was riding centidently on his way back to the fort, after a long ride to the distant stage line to meet his wife and daughter. Nearer and nearer he drew to the spot Where his foe lay in ambush. All were talking pleasantly as they rode along, no one suspecting evil, or danger, or a tragedy. The two men in buckskin, Buffalo Bill and Indian Dick, the guide, had passed beneath the shadow of the cliff upon wiich the intended assassin was lying in Wait. His deadly bullet was not for them. Following directly after them was a lieutenant and a score of troopers; then came Colonel Carrol Doan, the victim des- tined for death; then several officers, and next, the ambulance with the ladies, a light army wagon with baggage, some pack animals, and some forty ‘troopers bringing up the rear. Who would look for a sudden death in the very midst of such a guard and es- eort? But, crouching among the rocks, the man upon the cliff had his rifle leveled, his eye ready to sight along the barrel, and aim “at wwe heart, where a glittering medal on the eolonel’s breast sparkled in the sun- light. ! The lurking assassin was a man whose years had silvered his temples, whose face had been bronzed by long exposure and life in the wilderness. . He was dressed in buckskin from moc- casins to cap, his hair and beard hung al- most to his waist, but he was a person of commanding presence in\spite of his being in hiding there to kill a fellow being, one who knew of the first crime of his life, a deed that had sent him \a fugitive into Ae ng wilds, to live apart from human nd, : Nearer and nearer rode the colonel, and more firmly the ambushed\ man grasped his rifle; lower he crouched; his eye ran along the sights, and then his finger ae es i #.¥ a, ” of a - a “2 50 - Wa, 2 ’ Py ’! , i . ’ ‘ ——- af There came a puff of smoke, a sharp re- port, and Colonél Carrol Doan felt a se- vere blow as there followed a sharp sound of metal ringing against metal; he reeled in his saddle, but quickly recovered him- self, as the bullet had struck the very cen- ter of the heavy badge he wore and was arrested by it. It was a sudden shock and momentary pain, but the colonel never lost his nerve, and glancing up toward the cliff, cried: “There he goes! Fire on him!’ There, dashing along the ridge to cover was the form of the intended assassin, and two score Carbines began to crack as the troopers threw them to their shoulders and began to pull trigger. But the form bounded on, and disap- peared, just as Buffalo Bill came dashing back from the front. Instinetively he took in the situation— that the colonei had been fired on from the cliffs, and, seizing his long lariat, he was Whirling it rapidly around his head, his eyes fixed upon a broken pine growing forty feet above on a shelf of rock. All eagerly watched the scout, saw the coil leave his hand, beheld the noose circle over the broken limb, and then, with his rifle slung at his back, they beheld him rapidly ascending to the ledge. They saw him climb on from there up- ward, some twenty feet, drop on one knee, throw his rifle to his shoulder, take a quick sight, and fire. A moment after Buffalo Bill disappeared from the sight of those who wefe watch- ing him. 07 Dee CHAPTER II. THE BOY HERMIT. Seated in front of a stowiiy-buiit cabin of |\ rocks and logs which stood close in under overhanging cliffs, at the head of a canyon that widened into a valley below, -was a youth of seventeen perhaps, though his look of manliness and stern determination, his well-developed form and natural air of perfect self-confidence. caused him. to ap- pear older. His face was a fine and striking one, frank, fearless and handsome, while his complexion had been bronzed to the hue of a redskin, though his dark blue eyes and golden hair, worn long, showed that there was no trace of Indian blood in his veins. He was dressed in buckskin, beaded and embroidered with porcupine quills dyed in gay colors, and his moccasins were well made, while upon his head sat jauntily a cap made of the plumage of birds, and handsomely made, too. The youth wore a revolver and knife in his belt, and, aS we see him, was en- gaged in Geaning an old-style but service- able weapon—a rifle and shotgun com- bined, one barrel being rifled, the other smooth-bore for shot. In the meadow land down the valley half a dozen Indian ponies were grazing, and as he glanced up from his work the youth suddenly started and muttered: “ Something is frightening the poni¢s—a) mountain lion, I guess, so I'll go for him.” The ponies had raised their heads and trotted away from the trail, but as the youth rose, having just finished his work, there came into view a horseman riding in a run, “Why, it is father! = But, what can be the matter with him, for see how he reels in the saddle! There: he nearly fell to the ground then! | ‘Putting down his gun, the youth darted down the steep trail, leading from the ledge of rock upon which the cabin stood, man had halted, was just in time to catch him in his arms as he fell from his saddle. y ; — : * - 4 i _ f \ a ‘a é ; es | 5 Te eee ne ee PATS eae Al - thy dg. + ° < e ~~ tj - A Vil Spe S ~ ry ’ * (+ Bee) ; “ « b . ” - ae 4a . » oe “ 2 nF ore Un , y, Pi + 4 ¥ ™ . nd re a a * a = ee 4 A. 7 * Ne . fg 6 : t / the youth, in dismay. | “Yes, Don, and a death wound it is? groaned the man, as the youth raised him in his strong arms, and, bearing him up the steep path, placed him on a cot in the cabin, the act showing wonderful strength for one so. young. ‘Father, I will see what I can do, for it may not be so bad.” “TI know, boy, for it is given to mortal to feel when the hand of death is upon him.” “Who gave you the wound, father?” asked the youth, as he tenderly drew off the hunting-shirt to examine the wound. “See what you think, before I tell you, for 1 know that the old Indian chief, Big Medicine, taught you well while you lived with him.” The boy had now exposed the wound— a bullet-shot in the right side, almost un- der the arm, and glancing at the red stream welling up to the lips of the man, he shook his head, while he took from an old morocco surgical case a probe, and with perfectly steady hand began to search for the bullet. The man awaited with pallid face and anxious look the decision of the boy sur- geon, as though with perfect confidence in his skill, “ * Father?!’ * Yes, Don.” “The bullet has entered too far for me to find it, and—’’ “The wound g.oan., | ‘I fear so, for the blood forcing itself from your mouth shows that it eut through the lung.” “IT knew it, and my hours are num- bered. * Just as I began to hope that we might go out of this wild hermit life and live among our fellow-men, with riches to care for us, Don, the end has come, at least for me, and I am to find a grave in this wilderness, where for so many long years I have hidden away.” “Don’t talk, father, for it gives you is fatal,” came with a pain.” “I care not for the pain of the wound now; the suffering is all here, and here, boy, in heart and brain! — | “I must talk, for I have much to tell you, for as the aged pass away the future opens for the young. “Your life is just begun, as it were, though the years that you have seen have been hard ones, but the future is before you, and I wish to talk, to tell you what ; that future will be for you.’’ ‘Never mind me, father, along all right.” * But, | do mind you. Ah! IT must not delay, but tell you what I would not die and leave unsaid. ‘You know that you are not my own son; that I found you in the Sioux village for I'll get four years ago and bought you from Big | Medicine, the chief. — | “You know, too, that they, the Sioux, “massacred the wagon train your parents were with, and spared you only because you fought them like a little tiger, ST nding over the dead body of your mother and. father, and with the latter’s sword, boy of nine though you were, you killed two braves! . | “TI beljeve you know that renegades— white men among the Sioux—spared you, i: though they instigated the attack on the — train. 3 “ The Indians, as you know, are super- stitious about charms, so they would not d, | touch the gold locket hapemg to a chain and, reaching the spot where the horse- | Me bout your neck, and con g the min- ~ ¥ ich you still have, So ae “Oh, father! You are wounded!” cried >. ~~ ™ ee ai o— m wy ret. Lal ath i 2 a ; res of your father and mother, and =