Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 1036 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

Death-Notch, TELE DESTROYER OR, The Spirit Lake Avengers, BY OLL COOMES. CHAPTER IL THE LEAGUE OF EIGHT. * Awos MEREDITH?” “ Here.” ** Richard Carter?’ ** Here.” “David Hawes?’ “ Here,” “ Phelix O’Ray” ** Here, bedad!” ts Harriott?” ““ Here.” ‘‘ George Olsen?” “* Here.” ‘‘ Omaha, the Friendly?” ‘* Here.” ‘All are present,” said the leader of the rty, Fred Travis, In fact it was unnecessary to call the roll to apprise that little band that not one of its mem- bers was absent. But it was done in observance of a code of regulations which they had adopt- ed before setting out upon the trail. All were young men, none being over three- and-twenty years of age, and two or three somewhat younger, but all, like true sons of the border, were possessed of hardihood and strength, and their hearts were burning with a terrible fire of revenge. Each one carried a rifle, a side tomahawk and hunting-knife, while from the bosom of their hunting-shirts peeped the polished pistol-butis. They stood beneath the umbrageous covering of an oak, each neg upon his rifle, and wait- ing the orders of his leader; but, ere those or- ders breaking up their night’s bivouac beneath the great oak tree, there suddenly came the sharp report of a rifle, followed by a low cry— the unmistakable death-wail. The HKight Avengers gazed from one to the other with inquiring glances, ‘¢ Without a doubt another accursed red-skin has fallen,” said Fred Travis. ‘* Yes; but who fired the shot?” asked young Hawes. ‘‘ Does the Omaha know?’ “Does not Death-Notch, the Young Scalp- Hunter, lurk within these woods?” The Avengers started at mention of this name of one whom none of them but the young Oma- ha had never seen, yet of whom they had heard most amazing reports. He was represented as being a youth of Titan proportions and power, cunning as a fox and subtle as a serpent—a deadiy enemy to the human race, going and eoming like one of supernatural powers and bearing the heart of a fiend. Human lives and human scalps were said to be the sole object of his search; and that upon a thousand different trees in the forest ener the Little Sioux river, might be found the totem of this mad destroyer—a notch cut with a tomahawk upon the trunk or limb of a tree, each notch repre- senting a victim; and where the notch was found there could be found also a decaying ee or bleaching skeleton. o wonder then that the Eight Avengers started when the Friendly mentioned the name of Death-Notch. ‘‘ Friend or foe,” replied Travis, firmly, ‘ we must do our work. Were Death-Notch twice the destroyer that he is, he must not stand in the way of our vengeance; nor shall he. Oma- ha, the duty devolves upon you to ascertain what that shot meant.” The Omaha at once glided from their midst as silently as a shadow, while the band in per- fect stillness awaited his return. A few mo- ments passed when a low whistle was heard. “That is the Omaha’s call,” said Travis ; ‘“‘advance!” The little band moved away to the woods, and soon came to where the Indian was standing within the shadows of a wide-branching tree. ‘““ What discovery, Omaha?’ asked Travis. The young Indian gy wee at the ground. There, half concelaled among the weeds and grass, lay the formof a Sioux warrior, dead and wcalpless. From a deep gash in the left cheek the warm blood was still flowing. ‘‘Death-Notch has been here!” simply said the Friendly. ‘‘ Behold his totem!” Every eye was turned in the direction indi- eated, and upon the trunk of the tree near where the dead warrior lay, they saw a small notch, evidently cut with a ha et, and so re- cently that the sap was still oozing from the The band stood for a moment silently before the dead warrior and the dread et. : is het” at length demanded Travis. ‘ Ask Nj ree I was the Omaha’s reply; no trail. to the superstitious fears ~ * bd . ——. ee ee TT The New York Library which it was _— some of the band felt, Travis exclaimed: ‘Well, trail or no trail, we must on to our work. So forward all!” In single file the little band set off through the forest. History has recorded the horrors of the Spirit Lake Massacre, in the spring of 1857. A de- tachment of braves of the great chief, Inkpa- ducha’s force, under Young Sleepy Hyes, de- scended upon the settlements in the vicinity of the lakes, killing and burning all before them. At the time of the attack these young men were away several miles southward, hunting, but when they returned they found their homes destroyed and their friends all gone. Tigen they formed a compact which afterward ren- dered their names noted; they swore to track the merciless foe to death, and rescue their friends, if any still existed. For days had they traversed the treeless prairie and trackless wilderness, guided by the never-failing and indomitable Omaha. And now, as they moved on, and the sun mounted higher into the heavens, the air became hot and sultry and the sky overcast with clouds. To the Aven- ers these were forebodings of a storm, still they pressed on, and when the sun stood upon the meridian, they stopped by a little stream to rest and refresh themselves from their meager supply of food. hile thus engaged the sharp clatter of hoofs broke suddenly upon their ears. The next in- stant a youthful horseman came galloping from the shadows of the woods and swept like a dart across the little valley before them. The horseman was a mere boy. He could not have been over sixteen, and was as fair and deli- cate in features as a maiden. Masses of long dark hair fell in ripples to his horse’s back, and dark, lustrous eyes looked sharply from between their long silken lashes. A little red cap with a single white feather surmounted his head. A blue nee handsomely wrought with threads of gold clothed the beautiful rounded shoulders, slender form and well molded arms, The collar lay open, revealing a full, snow-white chest and throat. The only weapon he possessed was a small, silver-mounted rifle, which he carried in front of him across the withers of the raven-black pony he bestrode. The youth, seemingly, did not see our young friends, but galloped across the valley an plunged into the woods beyond. : ‘‘Och, but he’s a royal lad,” exclaimed young O’Ray. “Sich a form; sich hair; sich eyes, ay! be the Howly Mother, he must be a young god ave the woods.” ‘‘He was a fine-looking youth,” said Amos Meredith. “A young ra i I suppose,” added another. "I Hoye ” gaid Fred Travis, ‘‘say what you may oO that youth, I would venture my life almost, on the cast that it is a female.” ‘‘ Then,” said Omaha, starting suddenly up, “if that is the case, Death-Notch is a female, for you have looked upon the face of that ter- rible young Scalp-Hunter?’ CHAPTER II. THE LOVERS. A scorr of log-cabins surmounting a bold stony bluff, overlooking the Little Sioux river comprised the settlement of Stony Cliff, It had first been established as a small trading- post by a party of French Canadians, and from year to year a family or two had been added to its population until it now numbered somethin like a hundred souls. Men had brought their families there and established themselves per- manentiy, engaging principally in hunting and the fur trade. A few, however, followed the immoral calling of whisky-traders. Another t a gun-shop and variety-store, and a few ke tilled a number of acres of ground near the set- tlement. Although Stony Cliff bore a. disreputable name, as most all these frontier posts generally do, if Was not entirely wanting in morals. It had passed laws of its own, established a school and church, and strenuous efforts were made to bring all within the pale of Christianity. But in this it had failed in many instances, as the progress of our story will show. At noon on the same day that our story opens, a young girl stood alone upon the banks of the river, within the shadow of a clump of trees, less than half a league below the settlement. She was not over seventeen years of age, tall, queenly and graceful in proportion, and fair and lovely in every feature. Before her upon the river a little canoe was rocking upon the Mien and in it lay the maiden’s hat and shawl. As she walked to and fro beneath the arching boughs of the trees, she would start occasion- ally and glance anxiously about her, but, noth- ing meeting her gaze, a cloud of disappoint- ment would settle upon her pretty face, and she would half-nervously and half-angrily twist and twirl the bouquet of wild flowers she held in her hand. Was she there to meet some one? Was she an unfaithful lover? the moments ware on, the sound of a foot- ee ——- os Vol. I. —— step broke suddenly upon her ears, and they the figure of a youth a d from the shadows of the woods and s fore her. He was a handsome lad, of not over eighteen or nineteen years, and, in spite of his youth, was possessed of all the developments of a man. Indeed, such perfection of manhood was seldom found in a He was of medium hight, with massive chest, muscular limbs, dark eyes that sparkled with the light of a wild, dari spirit, clear-cut features and a well-define ee, covered with a wealth of short, crispy curls, He was dressed in a clean, neat-fitting LG of 2 hunter, and carried a rifle and hunting- cnife. The maiden did not start with surprise at sight of him. On the reg gel her face lit up with a light of love, and, advancing toward him, she said, in a petulant tone: ** Oh, Ralph !.why have you kept me waiting so long?” ‘‘T was not aware that I had, sweet Sylveen,” he replied, in a low, pleasant voice, stooping and kissing her upon the warm, flushed cheek. ‘“ Why, yes Iph ; I have been here for more than an hour,” Sylveen responded, “Tm sorry I kept you waiting, my love; but then if you will look at that shadow, Sylveen, you will see I am here at the appointed hour.” Sylveen Gray glanced at the shadow, and laughed softly. ‘Oh, I know, Ralph; you are always true to me,” she said; ‘‘but I am so impatient.” “You must try and grow out of that, Syl- veen.” ‘‘T have tried, Ralph; but anxiety for safety keeps me in a fever of excitement time,” ““Do not, I implore you, dear Sylveen, keep yourself uneasy about me, It is my solace—the guiding hope of my future happiness, to know that you love me—that you are my own dane Sylveen. But, I would be still more happy di I know you were not fretting about my safety, Rest assured that I wit) not be so reckless of bi! happiness as to thrust my head incautious- y into needless dangers.” ‘* But, Ralph, you know,” Sylveen gentl persisted, ‘‘ that Death-Notch, the Scalp-Hun er, is in these woods, and that he favors none in his terrible vengeance.” Ralph St. Leger smiled at the maiaen’s re- marks, and replied: ‘‘T have never yet seen Death-Notch, Syiveen, nor have I ever met a person that has seen him. Is he not a myth?” our the ‘No, Ralph; several of the settlers have seen him at a distance,” said Sylveen. ‘‘ They said his face was that of a mere boy, but thet he was a giant in stature.” ; Again Ralph St. Leger-smiled. He was @ youth whose education and natural good sense overbalanced all superstitious belief and re- rts, despite the fact that he was a borderman iimself, a trapper-boy and free rover of the prairie. wg ‘‘ Well, dear, I may confess that there is such a person as he whom they call Death-Notch. I have seen his totem—the death-notch—upon & tree where lay a lifeless savage. But, I have reason to believe that Death-Notch is the white man’s friend,” ‘‘T wish I could only think so myself, Raiph for just yesterday one of our settlers was‘foun: dead near the village. There was a deep wound on his left cheek, and a fresh notch cut on @ little sapling near where the body lay. Death- Notch had slain him,” “What was the settler’s name?’ asked Sa ** Bl Pardou.” ‘* A French Canadian?” "or oa.” ‘‘Perhaps Death-Notch may have held some grudge against him?” “T cannot say, as to that,” replied Sylveen, ‘but I do know he keeps Stony Cliff in a per petual state of excitement,” ‘Not any more so, I suppose, than J under stand he keeps the Indians,” said St. Leger. ‘‘ Perhaps not; but Ralph, will you not con- sent to take up your head-quarters at the settle- ment?” “Sylveen, I can mot. I love the wild woods and its excitement@, and I ask nothing more besides than an occasional interview with my darling Sylveen.” “That you shall ever have, dear Ralph, un: less my uncle forbids me leaving the setthe ment.” ‘‘ Has he threatened to do so, Sylveen?” ‘‘No: but be knows I meet you, and of laté he has intimated to me that he had chosen from his acquaintance a young man who he thought would make me a good husband,” Ralph’s brow darkened. ‘‘ Did he mention his name?” he asked. ‘Yes; it was Scott Shirely.” ‘Well, Sylveen, he is a handsome, young cavalier, yet I have no fears you from me.” ‘‘No, never, dear Ralph, and—” d not complete the sentence, for, at this dip of an oar arrested their atten of him She mp ng the | 900 nN co Cc > aS ~ a =e - j ‘ ‘ p / i } | Se, 1 & SY" eo ak fk