Beadle's Half Dime Library, Vol. 1, No. 2 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

14 ‘* We'll have to leave the young man, since he is unable to walk,’ said Campbell. ‘‘We can send back for him after we rescue the lady. I'll tell him.”’ Maynard gladly consented to remain behind, when he heard what had happened. Campbell left him a revolver, to defend himself with, in case of need, and then left the den, accompanied by John Warren. “ Now, old man, put your legs to good use. The sooner we get up thar, the easier I'll feel,’’ muttered Campbell, darting away. CHAPTER XVI. YELLOWSTONE JACK AND THE WITCH. YELLOWSTONE JACK and Brindle Joe pressed for- ward at top s upon the trail of the weird wo- man. Yet their progress was comparatively slow, the bed of the canon growing more obstructed b bush and bowlder the further they advaficed, until, at last, the two trappers could not proceed faster than at a walk. The woman had disappeared, but Jack could hear her forcing a passage through the vine-clad bushes, whenever he paused to listen. Nothing would be easier than for her to slip into some of the numerous coverts that lined both sides of the canon and lie still until the trappers had passed by, then take the back trail and give them the “ty * he could once drive the game from the canon, he felt confident of the re- sult. Surely two trappers could run down a woman in a fair chase. Separating, thoroughly , sure the game was still afoot. Owing to their ac- tivity they still advanced at a fair rate. “Yonder she goes!” cried Brindle Joe, pointing ahead, where he had just caught a glimpse of the woman fleeing with unabated speed and vigor. “‘Make for the spot at once, then: no need 0’ wastin’ time beatin’ a whar we know she ain’t,”’ replied Yellowstone Jack, increasing his speed. ttle did either of the trappers dream what a prize they had missed by leaving this patch of brush unsearched. Even at that moment a pair of dark eyes were glaring at them from the cover. At any other time the acute sight of Brindle Joe would have detected signs of a fresh trail, but now neither he, nor Yellowstone had eyes for aught other than for the slayer of their comrade, Chavez. “‘T raaly b’lieve the critter is a spook!’’ muttered Brindle Joe. ‘Look how she holds her own—we'd ‘a’ run a buck Injun down afore this, an’ she don’t ‘pear to be fagged one mite!’ ‘““Spook or human, I’m goin’ to see the wind-up, or e bu’st somethin’,”’ grated Yellowstone Jack. “°F T cain’t ketch her a-runnin’, I'll try what vartue thar is in a quarter-ounce 0’ lead.” ‘Wish 't you’d ’a’ run up that silver dollar,” mut- tered Joe, dubiously. ‘‘ Lead’s no good thar/” “Don’t know—the old man handled her like she was flesh an’ blood. Don’t reckon a spook ’'d ’a’ fell so solid as she did ag’inst the rocks. But thar— spread out. We must keep her afore us ef we want to make a coup.”’ In this manner the chase lasted over nearly two miles of the canon bed. At times the trappers would lose sight of the woman, and fearing she had sought some covert, 9 ? thus to give them the aes would beat the bushes, peer into eve niche as they passed and presently catc mpse of their game far ahead of them. Then another spurt would end as before. Yet they knew that this could not last much longer, for the canon ended less than half a mile further, after which the groan was more open. And upon this, they hoped soon run the woman down, u indeed, she ad at first believed her. he and Joe advanced leisurely, ting the cover before them, to make slip roc ag should prove the witch they h - Test look at the pizen cat!’’ exclaimed Brindle Joe, in a tone of wonder, pointing ahead. Active and quick-foo almost as the mountain oat, the witch of the enchanted vailey was scaling the rocks that blocked up the end of the canon, As Brindle Joe spoke, she gained the top, and waved her staff with a little ery of triumph toward the pur- suers. “Ef ye’re human, hy’ar’s what'll make ye a sper- rit in good airnest " gritted Yellowstone Jack, as he hastily leveled his rifle at the witch and fired. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing to be seen but rocks and bushes. The trappers glanced at each other. The same thought might have been read in the eyes of both. Their superstition was fully aroused. **°'T went smack through her an’ she didn’t winch,” muttered Brindle Joe, nervously. “TI drawed a fair bead—nur I ain't in the habit o’ missin’ marks o’ that bigness so clost by. Ef she’s human, I’d ’a’ downed her, shore!” ‘* Reckon we'd better take the back trail. I don’t like this kind 0’ business overly much—’t don’t set well on my stom ” added Joe, with a sickly grin. “You kin, ’f ye like, but I won't. I'll see this thing through or bu’st. I sot out to foller the—the critter, an’ foller her I ef she leads me to the very gates o’ Hades itself,” deliberately uttered Yel- lowstone Jack, as he carefully reloaded his rifle. Though his face was pale and set, there was & look of determination in his eyes that Brindle Joe could not mistake, and he knew his comrade too well to attempt a remonstrance. Instead, he said: ‘*So be it, then. Brindle Joe mayn’t be much a’- count, but he’s too white to sneak out 0’ a scrape his a means to face. I reckon you 'n’I’d or- ter be a match fer the old ’un, even ef she does lead us thar—so pitch y’ur jinny!’’* Cautiously the rocks, Yellowstone Jack peered over the top. He could see nothing of the eT Pitch ro jinny ” a once popular bit of West- ern slang, though from what derived, I cannot learn, ad woman, but he did discover something else that drew a cry from his lips as he scrambled forward. Several drops of fresh blood were sprinkled u on the white rocks. It was here that the woman oe last been seen. Beyond a doubt this blood was ers. **How air you, spook!” ee Jack, his face brightening. ** Now what ye think, Brindle Joe?” **T reckon we've bin makin’ pizen fools 0’ our- selves,”’ Ae the trapper, after closely examining the telltale spots. ‘Spooks don’t hev blood—least- wise so Black Harris sais. He said he rammed day- light clear through his spook, at the medicine apn around dozen o’ times, an’ nary a drap o’ blood d d it let out. I reckon we’ve struck a crazy critter, *stead 0’ a spook.” “ zy or not, she rubbed out oe Don’t fer- git that,” quickly replied Yellowstone Jack. “Thar she goes!” cried Brindle Joe, a ahead. ‘‘ Makin’ fer the medicine valley, too. ° she gits thar fust, it’s good-by John!” Yellowstone made no reply, but aprnbg forward at full s after the flee woman, eir delay in reloading and examining the rocks had given the chased woman fully a mile start, and she was run- ning swiftly, heading for the valley of the Boiling = ing; now not more than two-thirds of a mile dis- Yellowstone Jack was a rere runner, and adually left Brindle Joe in the rear, rapidly gain- ng upon the fugitive. He was not more than two hundred yards behind when she entered the valley, and strained every nerve to its utmost tension, hop- ing to overtake her before she could reach the spring where she hadso mysteriously eluded him once be- fore, even eos! s rifle in his erness. The witch g the curb surrounc the spring, and flung herself headlong forward. ut just at that moment the strong hands of Yellowstone Jack closed upon her skin garments, and he strove to drag her back. She kicked vigorously, and striking his shin, knocked his feet from under him, and then both fell together into the Boiling Spring. A cry of horror burst from Brindle Joe’s lips as he saw them eoneens, and saw thespray dash up, tell- ing him that both had fallen into the medicine me And the superstition that was his second self whispered him that Yellowstone Jack had fallen blindly into a oe set for him by the spook, who had led them on in this wild race for no other purpose. And still, while believing this, the faithful fellow ran forward and scrambled up the curb. He stood there as if petrified. Then a violent trembling seized upon his limbs. The apring was quietly bubbling up in the center, as usual. Its waters were clear and limpid. The bottom was clearly visible, as well as the sides. There was not a trace of either Yellowstone or the witch! Where had they gone? With a ery of horror Brindle Joe tumbled down the white curb and dashed swiftly down the valley. But he did not run far before he checked himself, and glanced back. Then he uttered, huskily: “Durned ef I do! I tole Yellowstone I'd see it through, an’ I will—or die for’t! He's gone—I feel it in my bones. ‘Tain’t likely he'll ever be let come back, but she will—she did oncet, fer this makes twicet I’ve see’d her —e in thar. An’ when she does come, she'll find me. Mebbe ’twon’t do no good —but I'll shoot her ef powder an’ lead kin do the job, S’posin’ it don’t—what then? Mebbe she'll take me to whar Jack is!’’ and, strange as it may seem, the rough trapper found consolation in the idea! It was no common bond that united the trappers. Their love for each other was stronger and purer than that existing between most brothers. Brindle Joe retraced his steps and crouched down beside the curious mound already referred to. Then, with cocked rifle he watched the medicine spring. He had scarcely settled himself in this position, when he sprung to feet with a lowcry. A st e sound came to his ears, faint and indistinct, but in- describably sweet. It seemed like one singing in the distance, nor could he tell from what direction the sound proceeded, though he slowly circled round the mound. He could see nothing un The valley seemed uninhabited save by himself. “It’s some spook business,’’ he muttered, as he do y seated himself in ‘this former position. **Mebbe they want to skeer me away—let ’em skeer an’ be durned!”’ The ceased as abruptly asit had , and then Brindle Joe heard a faint sound just above his head. Glan up, he saw a figure standing upon = op ts and quickly flung up his rifle. But be- ore he co d shoot, the —_ disappeared. Now Sores aroused, the trapper dropped his rifle, and wit red knife clenched betwixt his teeth, he scaled the mound. This was a difficult task for the sides were hard and slippery, save here and there a slight knob or projection. As he gained the “op a cry of astonishment broke from his ; his mound has been spoken of as a sort of trun- cated cone, evidently composed of the same sub- stance as that surrounding the Boiling Spring. But now Brindle Joe found that the cone was but a shell - -that it contained a hollow, shaped like the inside of an iron pot, sides were smooth and even; a few points or knobs could be seen, but nothing enough toconceal a kitten. And yet there was noth- ing to be seen of the figure that he had just caught a glim A? aneune pore 3 that he ar aD rbling = ‘**Tt’s the devil’s wor Se Soe Seen ° “Yit thar’s Yellowstone! Mebbe thar's a hole or a trap down thar—mebbe it’s only tricks, a’ter all.” With this the igh a attempted to descend the hollow. His foot slip and he bum down with more than comfort. Disreg g his bruises, Brindle Joe carefully searched on every side for a hidden opening, but in vain, Not even a crack in 3 Beadle’s HalfDime Library. —— ee ——— CO | | ; the hard, smooth snbstance could he discover, Mad with disappointment, he stamped heavily upon the side, It seemed solid. There was no echo. CHAPTER XVII. AT LAST. ForTUuNATE indeed was it for Mat Mole that the weird woman did not repeat her blow. As it was the outlaw lay senseless for more than an hour, and it was nearly twice that length of time before he recovered ener to resume his course. He had not caught a glimpse of his assaiiant, but immediately jum to the conclusion that it was Pethonista, the Blackfoot chief, wif@had dogged his steps and felled him with a coward’s blow, that he might carry out his first intentions. e position of the moon told him that a long time had elapsed since the stroke; far too long for him to hope to overtake his assailant that night, even if he could strike the right trail, And so he | made the best of his way through the hills toward his camp. Atleast John Warren’s party should not escape him. But, as the reader knows, he was doomed to dis- appointment in this matter, also. Before he could reach the valley in which he had left his followers and Blackfoot allies, he heard the sound of firearms and from the direction, knew that the ya gs train had been attacked. He knew then that the impetuous Night-walker had grown impatient at his long absence, and had made the attempt. He knew, too, that his men would not allow the Blackfeet to attack alone, lest they should discover the chest of gold he had spoken of. “They'd no right to move without my orders, curse them!’ snarled the outlaw. ‘‘ But then, maybe tis for the best, after all. I don’t believe the girls have had time to reach the train, since that traitor Eagle struck me such a foul blow, and if not, we can easily age them up to-morrow. Guess I'd bet- ter go look after the boys, anyhow. Ten to one ~ ll get to blows among themselves over the go 9 But the worthy Mole was taking far too much for emg Instead of finding his men quarreling over their booty, he met them straggling back, dly beh lg fully one-half of their number being killed or disabled. They had fought with uncommon dar- ing, pressing to the front to be the first ones to the golden prize, and had suffered in propor- ion. As this is not intended for a Billingsgate diction- ary, the reader will understand why I pass briefl over the proceedings of the outlaw and his confed- erates during the remainder of that night. Cer- tainly the office of recording angel was no sinecure. Assuming command of the remnant of the defeated arties, he stationed men at all points of observation o watch the emigrants and to await reinforce- ments, for which runners had been dispatched. This done, the renegade then had time to think of his own personal affairs. Where was Minnie? Where the Eagle? Had he borne her away? If so, where, and for what pur- se? Was it possible that the chief was befriending he girls and was aiding them to reach their friends? Reasoning thus, Mat Mole scouted through the hills and around the emigrants’ camp, in hopes of solving his doubts one way or another. A little after day- break he struck the trail left by the weird woman, some distance beyond the point where she had sa- luted the rival parties Senting for possession of the , and his keen, well-trained eye soon discovered the prints of a small, slender foot, that he knew could only belong to one of the two maidens. Hoping it would ag be to be Minnie’s trail, he exerted his ut- most skill for over an hour, losing the trail fully as many times in a hundred rods, finally being thrown entirely off the scent. For more than an hour he searched for the contin- uation of the trail, but in vain. And then, as one is apt to do when sorely puzzled, be wandered on aim- lessly, deep buried in thought. All at once he gave a start and stooped over some object that caught his gaze. “It’s the same track—only I don’t see the girl's!” he muttered, eagerly. “Still, she is such a light weight, this ground wouldn't take much of a trail from her. I'll follow it, now, or bu’st something,”’ Calling all his skill into play, Mat Mole did follow the t until it led him to the foot of a pile of rocks that he knew formed one end of Bad Wolf canon, They evidently passed over this, and after some hesi- tation he resolved to follow it to the end. Once in the canon he soon picked up the broken trail, and found less difficulty in following it, though still he ee see no signs of Minnie’s having passed along ere. Shortly after this Mat Mole heard a rifle-shot, min- led with a shrill yell that could only proceed from fhe lips of a death-stricken Indian; and knowing that the enemies of the Indians were equally his foes, the outlaw lost no time in caching. an en a , Strange e glided sw his covert. The brief id oy - had did. not ren ry recognition with it, and he believed the fugitive was an Indian. He had about decided to follow af- ter, to learn what had occurred, when he heard ra id footsteps, and cowered back. Yellowstone Jac and Brindle Joe dashed t him. Mole had never met them before, nor did Se Gare particularly about making their acquaintance. He heard a rifle-shot from above, and then started on down the canon, thinking he better make = his retreat before the mountain men should re- urn. ans could = BOW ing ee he foci he passed over a moist, sandy spot, tha e tive was the person he had been trailing, consequently there was nothing for him to hope from that quarter. Comireboo (E = _ = —_ - _ —E CSuGO