Beadle's Half Dime Library, Vol. 1, No. 2 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

———-— _ —_ — 8 iron fingers throttling me. Ugh! what fools men are sometimes. Just see what bother and trouble that bit of nonsense has made me. Yet what was she, after all? A dainty bit of flesh and blood, no more. If she had been free I don’t suppose I'd have ven her a second thought—but I wanted to spoil that good-natured fool’s happiness. Yet he must have thought a my of her—to go crary over it! But there—confound it all! how the subject does run in my brain—I can't drive it away. Because of that big brute, Harris, I yore e outlaw seemed desirous of forgetting the mat- ter, and muttered to himself of a dozen different things, but the memory could not be entirely ban- ished, curse it as he might. Was it a presentiment— a shadow cast upon his spirit by what the future had in store? As he reached the mouth of the pass, Mat Mole heard the click of a hoof upon rocks, and glanci hastily to the left, saw a number of horsemen rid- ing toward him, though still at a considerable dis- tance. He recognized the party of emigrants, and crouching low down, ran swiftly away, taking a ledge that he believed would carry him far beyond reach of the mounted men, even if he should be dis- covered. But afew moments showed him that the es abruptly ended. Seemingly a portion of the rock had been broken off during the storm by a bowlder falling from the hights above. The hoof-strokes sounded louder, and served to sharpen his wits. To retreat would be to court a collision that would be awkward, to say the least. a oan he glanced over the ledge. A bright light filled his eyes. agen | a point of rock, he quick- ly lowered himself over the edge. Clinging thus for a moment, he dropped lightly, and then cautiously stole along a narrow trail unti hidden round a slight bend. “Tf they feel like following me now, all right, My men will have a few less to deal with to-night,” chuckled the bandit, looking to the caps of re- volvers. ; But Mole had deceived himself. The horsemen had not observed him, and rode on, the sound of their animals’ hoofs rapidly dying away in the dis- tance. Yet Mole did not retrace his steps. He crouched there upon the rocks, shielded upon both sides by jutting points over which he coul r if necessary. He seemed deep buried in thought, and the minutes gradually w into hours unheeded. Then the outlaw awoke to a sense of his surround- ings. A suspicious sound had met his ear. He glanced quickly over the point of rock, and a wild glitter filled his eyes. If ever human being was pos- sessed of the devil, Mat Mole was that man then. A horrible expression distorted his face; hatred, re- venge, venomous delight—all gathered into one writhing, working mask. Quick as thought he lifted his rifle and fired. A horrible shriek followed—then a dull, crashing sound as a dark body plunged swiftly down the depth. Crouchi own below the rock, the outlaw ut- tered a sh open whoop—the same that had so startled the Night-walker, earlier in the day—the war-whoop of wher eta anther, the white sub- chief of the Blackfeet. “It’s the Eagle. I don’t think he'll dare dispute my will, after what has passed between us, but if he does—well, I will lose an Indian brother, that’s all,”’ muttered Mat Mole, as he drew a revolver and stood erect, though all but his head was concealed behind the rock. “You seem surprised to meet me here, brother,” the outlaw said, using the Siksikaga dialect, which is but little different from that of the other two divi- sions of the Blackfoot tribe. “There is a cloud between us,” gloomily replied the chief. ‘‘ You have killed a brave who was under my protection. The ety of a Blackfoot chief is not to be broken like that of a pale-face squaw.”’ “T have taken the life of an enemy—of one who has long followed my trail with blood in his eyes. Would you have me sit still and let him tear off my scalp? Is that the advice you give a brother?” Pethonista hesitated, and cast a glance back to where Minnie and Ada crouched so gin the poe tight locked in each other’s arms. He seemed a quandary. There is one especially sacred bond among the Blackfeet. Itis where one brave declares another his brother by a ar ceremony. He fills his mouth with pure water, winds his arms around the chosen one’s neck, and while kissing him, ejects the liquid into the other’s mouth. If swallowed, the pledge is ratified, and the chosen brother has entire control over the other’s future life. His will is law, in small as well as t matters. An Indian would suffer a thousand ths rather than disgrace himself and family by proving false to his pl age. Mat Mole had once saved the Eagle's life, nearly losing his own in the attempt, and the ¢ rateful sav- age had proclaimed Creeping Panther his brother be- fore the entire tribe. Upon this pledge Mole now depended. e had fired upon the impulse of the moment, directly upon recognizing Frank Maynard, whom he regarded as a successful rival. Knowing that Peth- onista was an inveterate enemy to all pale-faces out- side of his own tribe, he naturally sup the chief had captured them, and as an Indian is bound to de- fend with his life, if need be, the captive who has yielded to his prowess, Mat Mole feared to await re- cognition, lest his enemyjshould escape him, through the Eagle’s sense of honor. Pethonista ament bowed his head at this hint of the bond between them, and Mole saw that his words had not been in vain, #* A fact, An instance was known as late as the spring of ’6#, Se Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. ‘‘Let my brother, the Eagle of the great Blackfeet, listen,’’ continued the outlaw, resolved to strike while the iron was hot. “‘A hunter finds him a fine, fat deer. He sets out upon its trail and never pauses for rest or food or drink, but keeps on and on until the swift deer tires and ws weak, until its steps are short and feeble and it is ready to lie down and die. Another hunter comes by, and puts out his hand and catches the deer that is too tired to escape him, just as the first hunter comes up. Now will my brother tell me which one of the hunters has the best claim upon the game?” abruptly concluded Mat Mole. ane long trailer,”’ promptly responded Pethon- “Good! the eyes of the Eagle are caged can read the truth through the deepest cloud. Brother, J am the long trailer—you are the hunter who puts out his hand to stop the game I had rundown. For six moons I have been on the trail of this deer; which is best—your claim or mine?” Pethonista cast a quick glance back upon the sob- bing, terrified maidens, and then keenly gazed into the outlaw’s eyes. His eyes were boldly met. Mole — playing for a high stake, and had summoned all wits, “The Bogie is right. The brown-haired squaw is the game I have trailed so long andfar. She belongs to me. Whose right is better than mine? If my brother started the game first, let him speak, and I will give way to him. If not, then he must not inter- fere, unless he has forgotten that we ave brothers.”’ “A chief never forgets,”’ coldly replied Pethonista. “The light-haired squaw is my brother's. But he me not speak of the other. Does he claim her, as well?” **No—I care not for her, though she is fair to look aoe: She would fill the lodge of a Blackfoot chief well.”’ **A Blackfoot. chief does not hunt a squaw among oo enemies of ,his people,” coldly returned Pethon- ta. Mat Mole laughed. He cared little for the Eagle's ill-humor, 8 ay ded that worthy did not interfere further. Bold as he was, he knew that the chief would be more than his match, if they ever came in- to collision. * Well, chief, ’tis a bargain, then. I will take my captive—you can do what you like with the other,” said Mat Mole, gliding round the point of rocks, and approaching the cowering girls. ‘* Come,” he added, roughly, while Pothonista gloomily watched them, “enough of this nonsense. What are you whining about? Because that fool fell over the rock? Bah! there are plenty more men in the world—and better men, too, by long odds. But see—’tis getting dark, and there is a long trail before us. Come—or must I help you?” - o are you—what do you want?” faltered Minnie. ‘‘I’m your master at present—until I take you to my master. What I want is that you follow me, without any more whining. Do you want to stay here all night?” ‘*No—no! take us to our friends, and we will less ‘*That’s just what Imean todo. Your friends are waiting for us, anxious enough, no doubt. Come!” “He is lying: Minnie—he is trying to deceive us!”’ cried Ada. ‘ He is no friend—he shot poor Frank.” “Your tongue is too free, girl; but never mind. The chief will bridle it, He means to make you his uaw—’’ ‘Creeping Panther lies!’’ fiercely interrupted Pe- thonista. ‘*T only wanted to close her mouth, chief,”’ said Mole, but the devilish glitter in his eyes belied the humble words. ‘See here,’’ he added, turning to Minnie, impatiently, “take your choice. LEither walk with me quietly, or else I will you in my arms, though upon such a narrow trail we will be more apt to find the bottom of the canon together than to reach level ey ae But I will wait no longer. Will you walk, or shall I—”’ “T will walk. If you mean us evil, may God punish you as you deserve, ’’quietly replied Minnie, arising. oo es for your good wishes! Chief, will you come?” Pethonista simply bowed, and then extended his hand to aid Ada round the point. She at him keenly for a moment, then accepted the proffered assistance, Something told her this man could be Mole led the way, back over the route he had come, followed by Minnie, behind whom came Pe- thonista and Ada. In a few minutes the place where Mole had descended was reached, and climbing up first, he assisted the others. Then he turned to the Kagle and said: “Will the le walk with his brother, or does his trail lie in another direction? He would be glad to have the Siksikaga chief show us how to strike the pale-faces to-night, though Night-walker is with us ” a Pethonista is not needed where Neepaughwheese fights; he will follow his own trail,’’ was the cold reply. fat Mole smiled grimly. He was right well con- tent that the matter should end thus. e ham er to look upon the chief as an incumbrance inst of an ally. Yeu, chief, as you please. I will take my squaw and go—you can work your pleasure with the other. Remember that she has friends near, who are look- ing for her eee they will not be able to trouble us long. We strike them this night, and if you would like to win a scalp or two, you can come and show my braves how to fight.” en he drew Minnie’s hand through his own and strode away, stilling her pl not to be separated from Ada, with bitter Carseat doutheens threats that caused her blood to run cold. Little did she suspect who this rough man really was—least of all recognize in him the polished Gerald Manners, who, a few months previously, had made ardent love to her, who had seemed fairly heart-broken when she refused his proffered hand. “Where are Fg taking me—what have I done, that you should treat me so cruelly?” tremblingly asked the maiden. oe e ane where you'll be taken good care of,’’ responded Mat Mole, nasally. ‘‘ Where you'll be treated like a lady. As to what you've done, I reckon the boss ‘ll tell you. My idee is that you’ve jilted him some time or another, and he takes this way to geteven. I don’t know what else he followed he clear from the States for,’’ coolly responded ole, with a covert glance. ‘There is—there must be some mistake. I have wronged nobody—you must have been sent after—” - we name is e—daughter of old John War- ren sé Yes, but—” alg mistake, then. You're the bird the boss wants. ** Who is this man—your master, then?” * Well, you must know it anyhow, before long, so I guess there’s no harm in saying it’s Gerald Man- ers. ** Impossible! you are trying to deceive me—Ger- ns gene ae is a gentleman,” cried Minnie, impuls- vely. “Ves, I reckon he is—after a way. Anyhow, he means to treat you right. The moment you say you'll ied him, you will be free as air to go where you will.” ‘*T cannot believe that he would stoop to such wickedness—such meanness. But if he should, it would avail him little. Is this the way to win the love of a woman—by—” 2 ceo ee voice is sweet and musical, lady, but ou raise it too loud for our safety. These rocks ave ears—these hills are full of enemies both to you and me—of cruel, bloodthirsty Indians, who would glory in tearing off that pretty head of hair~— or in treating you even worse. We have had talk enous for a time—please let your tongue rest. I should hate to gag a lady, but needs must when the devil drives.” The outlaw abruptly paused and glared keenly around. Was it fancy, or had he indeed heard a low chuckle at his last words? He could see nothing to confirm the suspicion—all was still save the mornin wind. And with a curse he thrust back the half- drawn revolver, and strode rapidly forward, holding Minnie firmly by the arm, She also was silent. Something in the bandit’s tone told her-that it would be dangerous to cross his will now. Besides, the terrible trials that she had that da peer ese had completely broken down her spirit, and she almost unconsciously dragged her heavy feet along. Mat Mole seemed in a hurry to reach his camp. Better for him had he used more caution, if he had cast an occasional glance behind him, Though *twould have taken a keen eye to detect the dark fig- ure that dogged their steps. Silently as a shadow the phantom-like form followed them, now almost within arm’s length, now lingering behind, almost fading away asit seemed. But after dogging them thus for nearly two miles, through the s, the shadow stealthily drew near- er, and then, with a shrill, eldritch scream, leaped forward, and dealt the startled outlaw a fearful blow upon his head, felling him like alog. The heavy club was again lifted, and the fiery eyes glared down upon the fallen man, like those of a maddened beast. The outlaw did not move. The blow appeared to have been fatal. And then the threatening club sunk, as the strange being withdrew its foot from the lifeless form, turning to where Minnie had sunk to the ground in a swoon on hearing that horrible, unearthly cry. The blood-stained club was lifted threateningly as though about to dash itself upon the maiden’s de- fenseless head, but then, with a low, indescribable laugh, the shadow caught Minnie up and glided away. And the moon og renghef shone out, revealing the t wild figure of the Witch of the Boiling Springs! CHAPTER IX. THE CRAWL OF THE SERPENTS, PETHONISTA quickly grasped Ada by the arm, as she sprung forward $0 join Minnie, When Mat Mole half-dragged, half carried her away through the darkness. Her stru gles for freedom were in vain— firmly, though gently, the Eagle held her captive. Then, with a warning cry, the maiden sunk a lifeless weight upon the chief’s arm. e Blackfoot found himself in a dilemma—one anything but pleasant. He gently lowered Ada to the und, and then, while staring at her with pu : ed eyes, the Eagle diligently scratched his ead. A Blackfoot squaw is not civilized enough to know how to faint. Even if she did understand the fash- ionable art, it’s odd that the first trial would satisfy her—her lord and master would undoubtedly apply the lodge-pole remedy—rude, but very effec fre Pethonista would have tried something of the kind with a squaw of his own people, but he was almost afraid to touch this package of delicate white clay, and it was with positive joy that he heard Ada utter a faint moan, at the same time lifting her head. “Squaw needn't be ’fraid,’’ Pethonista hastened to assure the maiden. ‘Creeping Panther he gone ee take the squaw to frien’s, plenty quick.” ‘Take me to her—to Minnie—do not se Ma us— and I will thank you,” ret me pH ‘*No, Eagle he big fool do . You hear he say COM MICE LOOMO NSS (E()