Beadle's Half Dime Library, Vol. 1, No. 2 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

— dat Night-walker wid him? Night-walker big brave —tek plenty scalps—fight like debble. But he bad eye for white squaw. He see you—dat makes his eye full of fire. He say—you go my lodge—you be squaw chief. You say no—fo’ Night-walker not look good; got only one eye, no nose. Then he cuss —say must. Den le say no—’cause you my brud- der now, since you tell white,brave lift rock ’way. —Night-walker he say yes. Den we fight, mebbe. Heit killed, den—sure. Dat make le outlaw— no more be Blackfoot chief. Night-walker’s braves dey tek bot’ squaw an’ chief—tie ‘em to tree—den we burn. Dat why Eagle he say no—won’'t tek you after Creeping Panther.’ “Then let me go by myself. If you are really grateful for me saving your life, I pray you give me freedom—let me go back to my friends!” ‘* Where frien’s?” quickly demanded Pethonista. **T don’t know—but I will find them. Only let me lt frighten me!” murmured Ada, shrinking c ack. “Lis’n. Eagle frien’—no en’my—no want to skeer | squaw. He chief—no got crooked tongue. What he say, dat straight. Tell me where you los’ frien’s. Pethonista take you dere. He swear it by Great Spirit—what you call God,” earnestly replied the ‘Blackfoot. There was something in the young chief’s tone that told Ada he was not seeking to deceive her, and after a moment’s hesitation she described, as near- ly as she was able, the pass through which the trail led. The chief’s face brightened, for he easily recog- nized the description. ‘Allright now—me know dat place—dey stop at spring, where water plenty fo’ hosses. We find ‘um frien’s dere. Den you know dat Eagle no lie—dat him heart open to pale squaw.”’ ‘Can you—will you take me to them?’ eagerly cried Ada. ‘‘And right away—I am strong now— can walk very far and fast. And they can save Minnie—on horseback they can overtake that dark man!”’ *“Yeh—me tek you. Don’t know ‘bout ketchin’ ond Panther—he good scout—kin hide like snake. Den mebbe you’ frien’s have plenty work— han’s full. You hear him say—strike pale-faces to- night? Dat mean Blackfoot want scalp. Tek ’em, too—dey fight like debble, when see blood in dere eyes. Tek yours, too—don’t know squaw from brave, when mad. Eagle like you heap—he you’ /rien’. He t’ink you bes’ hide in rocks till "nudder day. Den, if Blackfeet don’t tek all scalp, you kin go to frien’s. If do—den Eagle he t’ink some odder way save you.”’ ‘* No—take me to them, as you promised. If they are fated to ba murdered, why should I live? I have no other friends—I must share their fate.” ‘* Eagle no lie—he do what you tell. But hesorry heap sorry. Squaw no good when dead,” slowly said the chief, betraying a degree of emotion seldom exhibited by a brave. ‘* Eagle know where Night-walker stop—know trail he take to git to pale-faces. Den bes’ we tek nud- der trail. meet Injun, den Eagle have to say ou his captive, or dey kill squaw, plenty quick, cause dey not my braves. Don’t like Eagle much —Night-walker’s braves,’’ tersely added Pethonista, as he took Ada’s hand and left the spot in a direc- tion nearly opposite to that taken by Mat Mole and Minnie. The trail they were forced to follow was long and tortuous, rough and almost impassable for a woman, more es cially when so nearly exhausted as Ada. Despite her feverish anxiety to reach the train that men might be at once sent in pursuit of Minnie’s abductor, she was forced frequently to pause to take breath. Nothing but an unusually strong will kept her from breaking down rege yarn * the Eagle lent her all the assistance in power, short of carrying her in his arms. Since sunset, the sky had suddenly become over- cast with clouds, broken and fast-scudding, yet dense enough to almost entirely shut out the light of moon and stars. Thus groping through dark- ness, despite his thorough knowledge of the ground, Pethonista was forced to advance cautiously, lest a misstep should precipitate him into one of the vena f awning ‘‘man-traps”’ that lay upon either hand. Bo it was that they did not reach level—compara- tively—ground again until ig! midnight. A few minutes afterward, Pethonista suddenly paused, with a contemptuous grunt, as he uttered: **See—dere you’ frien’s—by | Seige 3 ay | fools, dough! T’ink Blackfoot need to see how lift scalp!"’ asp of joy. Before them—though ile stant—she could just distingu Beyond a doubt it of her friends. No on in anenemy’s Ada gave a still nearly a m the faint gleam of a camp-fire. was, as the chief said, the cam Indian would have set up such a country. “Thank God! at last! Oh, hasten—hasten! I must tell them about poor Minnie.”’ ‘Too fast—too slow; both bad. Don’t know— mebbe Injun out dere hunting for scalps. Plenty room—dark hide ’em. We run, dey hear steps,—go slow—creep like snake, den no hear, no se uaw tthrough all right. Dat my talk,” interrup Pe- honista. ‘** But you—I am afraid to go alone now, since you think there are Indians there,” faltered Ada. ‘* No go ‘lone—Eagle go, too. Not inside cam dat bad, ‘cause pale-face Eagle’s en’my, too. squaw mus’n’t be scare’. Mus’ be quick cunning, same like snake. Mebbe no In un—mebbe not git here yet. Mus’ act like dey was, dough; sure not git fooled, den.”’ Though trembling with fear and exhaustion, Ada saw the sense of Pethonista’s reasoning, and endeav- ored to conquer her weakness. Crouching down like a panther lying in wait for its prey, Pethonista lis- ut ' CC Cll LLL LLL LLL ll ll DL lll lll lll lll llltiitiiltlL,zézéétillLitLilzLéLézLlzzzzzz-dtzzzzzzzzzzzssssrzzszssse | | A — Yellowstone Jack. —_ aes ee - tened intently. No suspicious sound broke the air. Everything seemed peaceful and quiet. Yet this only served to confirm the chief's suspicions that his brethren were even then creeping upon the doomed train. What had silenced the querulous yelping of coyotes that nightly surround a camp, renderin night hideous with their howling, snapping cries? score of coyotes will surround a wounded buffalo, in diabolical concert. But, let a huge wolf their of the feast. on and they draw off, dumbly sitting upon -haunches patiently waiting for the remnakts More than’ once Pethonista had known ay or black | them to show the same deference to the two-legged | wolves, and he believed ‘twas the case now. With an uneasy glance at Ada’s light-colored dress, | he crept noiselessly on toward the faint twinkling point of light. The maiden imitated his example as closely as possible. They had crossed nearly two-thirds of the distance without seeing or hearing anything beyond the com- mon, when suddenly the full moon sailed from be- neath a dense clou , pouring a flood of silver light over the scene. A cry of surprise rose to Ada’s lips, but quick as thought the ‘Senie’s broad palm rested upon them and forcibly held her close to the ground. The level before and upon both sides of them was dotted with scores of dark, oblong figures. Not one moved, not one gave the slightest indication of yo other than inanimate objects, but Pethonista we knew that they were Blackfoot warriors, thirsting for blood; that they had been stealing up to the lie motioness and still as stones. shape, erg close against the wall of rock. The only evidence of life was in that tiny fire, built close outside the row of vehicles. Then the tableau changed like magic. A single jet of flame issued from the corral—a loud, clear voice uttered a defiant shout that mingled strangely with the shrill, unearthly scream as one of the dark figures leaped convulsively into the air, then falling, tore and bit the hard ground in its death-agony. As though this was the signal for which they were awaiting, the crawling serpents changed to bound- ing cougars as they sprung forward to the attack, yelling, screeching, shouting—the mingled war-cries of both red and white savages. Again that clear shout from the corral—and the dark line seemed 9 as to render their arrows nearly useless, though one white man fell, bullet-pierced. The Indians charged boldly—their evident ho was toalarm the pale-faces into seeking safety in flight, when the nimble-footed braves could easily pick them off in detail, bothered as they would be with their horses. But, though well enough intended, the plan failed, since the gg seeesiger instead of givi way in confusion, leaped from their animals an sought cover behind the nearest bowlders, then marked down the savages as rapidly as a bead could a upon any of the rapidly-flitting, dusky ies. Such was the sight witnessed by Yellowstone Jack and his comrades upon the afternoon of that event- ful June day. They did not hesitate long. One of the parties, besides being much the more numerous, _ was their hereditary enemy, the Blackfoot Indians. _ each selected his prey. ‘“*I reckon we'd better make it a free fight, boys,” quietly uttered Yellowstone, gliding rapidly forward, “charging”’ border fashion, by keeping securely covered while rapidly nearing the foe. His comrades were nowise loth, and kept close at Yellowstone's heels. Not five minutes were used in getting within range, and then the four trappers Then, mingling their pecu- liar war-cries with the still reverberating echoes, the hunters charged. This attack in the rear threw the Indians into mo- mentary confusion, and almost before they could re- _ alize the truth the trappers were in their midst, rap- idly emptying their revolvers, leaving a trail of camp, when the flood of moonlight caused them to | astonished. They stared at the daring men, forget- The wagons were drawn up into a corral-like | blood behind them. Nor were the whites much less ting to use their weapons. “Sock it to ’em, lads!” yelled Yellowstone, laugh- ing shrilly and tossing his long hair back as an ar- row tore through the tangled locks, grazing the skin of his cheek. ‘* Thar’s Fatty Smith to pay fer, yit!’’ **Me, too—Jack, the varmints hes throwed me!” g Gila Hank, the leveled pistol falling from his and, as he reeled back, a feathered shaft quivering deep in his chest. ellowstone Jack caught the dying man upon his left arm, and with a snarling cry, sent a revolver bullet through the throat of the Indian who had sped the fatal arrow. “Don't let ‘em git my skelp,” faintly breathed the dying trapper, his eyes closing, the blood gushing _ from his lips. fairly grilled with fire, as twenty rifles vomited forth | their contents, hurling death and confusion into the oncoming mass of demons. The savages hesitated—faltered—their yells of ex- pectant triumph changed to cries of surprise. A cheer went up from the corral. The emigrants believed the victory won. That sound turned the scale. The savages pressed madly forward. Blood was in their eyes. They thought no longer of themselves—paid no heed to the storm of revolver bullets that saluted them—dashed on with deep, snarling cries, deter- mined to crush the hated invaders who had stricken them such a deadly blow. Pethonista leaped erect at the first shot, his chest | dilating, his eyes giowing, every muscle working, his magnificent form all in a tingle as the hatchet flashed from his girdle. The wild, thrilling war-cry _hyar they come! _ the Indians. that had caused many a bold foeman’s heart to beat | uicker broke from his lips, and he seemed about to | oin in the charge. But a little hand clutched his ankle—a tremblin voice besought his protection. And as he looked down and saw the pale, terrified countenance, the fire gradually died out of his face. He remembered his ledge. Fierce warrior though he was, he could not orget that. moment. Then the He glanced toward the corral. The Indians and | their white-skinned allies had just reached it. then the moon sailed beneath another cloud; all be- low was cast intoadense gloom. Yet the foemen, though standing so close to each other, held their blows fora moment, They gazed upward in mute amazement. A shrill, eldritch peal of laughter came to their ears. Standing upon the very pinnacle of the hill, was aw feet, with arms outstretched toward the wagon-train. Again that maniacal peal, and a few shrill words ee down from the dizzy hight; then the moon hid i : And the struggle was renewed. Pethonista caught Ada up in his arms and ran swiftly across the point of rocks. Passing round this, he deposited her upon the ground, beneath an over- hanging rock, bidding her keep perfectly still until he returned. Then he sounded his war-cry and hasten- ed to the fray, as a lover hastens to his bridal. Ada cove eyes and e seeking to drown the devilish sounds, but in vain. Then, worn out, terror- figure—a smaller form crouching at her | And | stricken, she must have swooned. Whether minutes | or hours had elapsed, she never knew, when rude hands seized her. A hideous face—burning eyes and gloating look; this much she saw—and then felt herself clasped to a broad breast and borne swiftly on through the night. A party of horsemen, whites, about a dozen in number, riding along at a slow pace, over a rocky difficult trail; nearly twice as arg! Indians, in the savage glory of war-paint and feathers, crouch- ing behind a pile of bow] some distance off, in a ravine where they were scarce- ly hidden from the white men’s sight, were a number of mustangs. they suspected some trap, or had observed some- thing suspicious. The unable to restrain sheir hatred, opened fire, though at such a dist-ce ers beside the winding trail; | hss “They must take mine fust! Brindle—Hoosier— Stan’ fast—sock it to ’em!”’ The Blackfeet, seeing the fall of one of the dare- devils, seemed to forget their first foes, and with ex- ultant yells, rushed upon the three men, ene bent upon crushing them to the ground with the mere weight of numbers. The defiant yell of the trappers replied. Standing sare the stricken man they met the assault brave- y. Mingled with the revolver reports, came a sharper, louder detonation, and a tall brave who was leveling a blow at Yellowstone Jack, fell back, dead. A loud, fierce shout drowned all other sounds and a tall, lithe figure lea into the very midst o One hand plied a long, heavy knife, the other clas a revolver, whose every report sound- ed the death-knell of an enemy. A dread fear seemed to paralyze the Indians for a broke and fled, with cries of dismay, mingled with a name that had often caused terror to Blackfeet hearts of late years. ** Pacanne-puck-on-che-luk/”’* But they were not to escape so . The emi- grants had, by this time, recovered from their double surprise, and as the sav broke, they were met upon every side. For a few minutes it was a mas- sacre. Then half a dozen of the Blackfeet succeed- ed in cutting their way free, and gaining their ani- mals, fled with the speed of despair. Vernon Campbell quietly reloaded his weapons, and then picking out the braves who had fallen be- neath his hand, he stripped them of the prized ellowstone Jack, after trying in vain to discover some traces of life in the y of his fallen comrade, strode up to the young scout with extended hand. ‘Putt it thar, boss! You're a hull train, wi’ a yal- ler dog under the wagon to boot! From the very way you putt in the double licks, I don’t wonder ‘at the varmints mistook you fer the Blood-Drinker.” ‘They call me that, sometimes,’’ was the quiet reply. f You ain’t—thunder! a young feller like you—” ‘Tam old enough to have won that name from my enemies—and I am proud of it, too, since it shows that I have drank deep of the vengeance I swore to take for my murdered kindred.” The three trappers looked at the young man with feeli somewhat akin to awe. John Warren ap- proached and started to thank the men who had come so opportunely to his assistance. Campbell abruptly checked him, _ ‘Spare your thanks, sir—I did not attack those curs through any friendship for you. Indeed, if, as I believe, you belong to the wagon-train that passed over this trail to-day, I have been aiding your worst enemies ever since you left the settlements.” ‘My enemies—and yet—” stammered Warren. “I don’t mean Indians—it is because the party I was with has made allies of the Blackfeet, that I tell you this much. I hate them—my whole life is de- voted to slaying them whenever we meet. But leq that pass. You are in danger. The Blackfeet will be upon you to-night. Your only chance is to corral 2 | your wagons and fight them to the last, unless you The whites abruptly drew rein. Beyond a doubt | wish to abandon but yeur horses, and trust in their speed to carry you beycud pursuit,” * Literally, ‘‘ The Man who Drinks Blood,” 700) <€om iS,