Beadle's New Dime Novels, No. 49 — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

THE PERILS OF THE PRAIRIE. 4? =the soup fr then, ee ee tee, « True enough !’ caiidxtoaed the spinster, elevating her hands. “1 had not thought of that once. You're a dear, darling Mabel, I must say, Won't I fix them, though ?” _™ Yes; but you must be careful, Aunt Suaily, and not give them too much of the narcotic. I would as willingly be mur- dered myself as to know that I was a murderess.” “ No danger of thut, Mabel; there’s jist about enough in the vial to put them all to sleep right easily. I tell you What, I haven’t used opium these ten years and not kuow what it is, and what it will do— no, no, Mabel, jist enough in that vial to put them all to sleep-—not kill them, child, for I wouldn’t be guilty of such a crime—no; I'd have my head split first, though I don’t believe the good Lord would consider it murder to kill sich wretehes—children of Satan ! But I do hate to waste my tooth-medicine, for fear I take one o’ them reg’ler neuralgic toothaches before I can get more, but I belfeve I can stand the pain better than the presence of that great horrid heathen, Oakley, and his low” “You coming or not ?” It was Carl Oakley, or Red Hand as as we will continue to Call bim, that appeared at the tent door with a tomahawk in his hand—a defiant look upon his bearded features. “ Well, I reckon if I must, I must,” said the spinster, “ but T hate most awfully to cook for sich a dog as you are.” “It’s well that you have come to terms,” said tbe chief, turning away from the door, “And I’m thinking yeu’ll come to terms before one bour if I mistuke not,” Miss Stump said, in an undertone, as she arose and followed the renegade from the tent. The spinster readily recognized many things scattered about Ahat had been taken from her father’s house; but, pretenring Not to recognize them, she set to work taking the soup. Red Hand stood near the tent, while the six savages seated them- Selves on the very Mog in which Josiah Jenkins lay curled ap My ohn and watched the white squaw with mech ~ iii tata oitn al tes dellongetied ¢ Post, hanging over the fire, fled with the lssing, COMME XOONKS. com) ¢