Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 1036 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

—— —_, Bo ee gaa “a taken upon myself an oath never to enter a white settlement until I have unburdened my heart of its load of vengeance. Besides, there is another person in this world claiming niy presence and protection.” “ Ah! a wife, or sister, perhaps?” thought Fred, but he did not give expression to his thoughts. He did not wish to appear inquisitive, so evaded the subject by at once introducing another. They moved on, conversing in low tones; but Fred noticed, finally, that Death-Notch’s voice was changing—that he spoke in a quick, ex- sited tone. At length he came to a sudden halt, and said: “My God, Travis! It is coming on me again! fo on and leave me. ILmight—”’ “What is the matter, Death-Notch?” asked Fred, startled by the unearthly expression of his voice, and the dull scintillation of his eyes through the holes of his masik. “Tam going mad, Travis, mad!” replied Death-Notch, grasping a limb, as if for support. ‘(Oh God! such a passion is awful. It is not one of physical or mental debility, but a fit—a fit of revenge. I can notkeepitback. Go, leave me, guick—quick, Travis!” “But, Deati-N otch let me stay and take care of you.’ ‘Ho! ho! a legion of demons couldn't hold me, You have been with me already too long. When I am away from all white faces, save hers, then 1 am humen, unless a savage is about. But faces that are white and voices like my own recall days that are gone—they excite me—put that awful devil in my heart! . Go, Travis, go, go, go!” Filled with that species ‘of terror which one experiences when in the presence of a madman, Fred, in obedience to the strange youth’s re- quest, turned and prished rapidly on in pursuit of his friends; though he was loth to leave the mysterious Death-Notch alone, for fear harm would befal! him while laboring under his vio- lent attack of madness. During his halt with the youth, Fred had per- mitted quite a distance to grow, between him and his friends: and now, as he fled onward from the mad Death-Notch, he suddenly became aware that he wasoff their trail. Stillhe pressed an, in hopes of coming up with them soon; but m this he was disappointed. He stopped and listened for them, but he could hear nothing. He was in the act of calling to them, when the quick, heavy tread of moecasined feet broke n his ears. Hesupposed at once it must be eath-Notch following him, and as he did not wish to encounter the mad youth, nor use severe raeans of protection against him, he sped on toward Stony Cliff. Still, that ominous footstep sounded behind him, and he renewed his ex- ertions; yet, despite his efforts, his pursuer gained upon him each moment. ‘ At length he felt his strength beginning to fail, and that swift patter, patter of feet filled him with terror. It was a precarious situation to be thus pursued by a friend—a mad, crazy friend—who was seeking his life—the life he had been instrumental in saving at the deserted It. Travis pressed every nerve into the effort, and exerted himself to the utmost. But, stead- ily, those pursuing feet came nearer and nearer. Fred turned at last, and drew his pistol. ‘‘ Back! back!” he shouted; “is it you, Death- Notch?” | ' ‘Yes! yes!? echoed an unearthly voice. Fred raised his pistol on the shadowy form he saw approaching through the undergrowth. He pressed the trigger as it came nearer, There was a flash and asharp report, , Still the figure came on. The bullet had missed Fred grappled with the form. A sharp strug- gle ensued, but it lasted only for a moment. Then young Travis sunk unconscious under a crushing blow upon the head. Had Death- Notch dealt that blow? CHAPTER X. ' A MIDNIGHT DRAMA. Tur hour was utidnight. The Little Sioux river, swollen by the recent rain, was lunging madly on, bearing upon its turbulent, t bbing bosom immense bodies of driftwood and debris. ‘There was a sullen roar of the waves as they beat and churned themselves to a foam, in their mad endeavors to break beyond the confines of their channel. This, however, they will soon do—in less than an hour—when the little, oa orged streams have poured their united mites Fate the roaring river. r : Forth from the deep shadows of the woods bordering the stream, there suddenly emerged a buman form, bearing in its arms a heavy, life- leas object. Upon the bank of the angry river the figure stopped, and gazed up and down for several moments. xr | Hard by lay a large log upon which the figure n y cepoated its burden. Then it busied itself for s | Rea mint oie aes of lit as there - Ten minu ater, nO- of life was x - ~ - « s. . - ' ~~ -— - - - _— oo — | orem mee, o Zz i — -. = _" eee eee -_-_ o_o - < rsome time around the log, apparently | | with her form. and bea was ee ly the labor of hi ot ‘ ee a ee eg we denly issued from the solitude of the woods. while in her belt she wore a small stiletto-iike Then, forth from the dark, deep shadows of the | knife. tangled forest came a grim, gaunt wolf. The prowling brute stole near the log upon which the figure had deposited its burden, and sniffed and snarled around it, then, as with af- fright, B scampered away into the shadows of the wood again. But it soon returned; nor was italone, <A dozen of its grim, gray associates came along. She handled the paddle with t skill and | dexterity, and sent the little craft flying up the | stream, or i within the shadows of the western bank. | A bright, healthful glow was upon her soft, rosy cheeks, and a sparkling lizht in her dark ey es, Lightly the little canoe danced over the Around the log the wolfish pack began to | waters, while its fair occupant kepta close watch gather, as if preparing for a banquet, sharp barks and lorg howls awoke the silent echoes for miles, and called other friends troop- ing to the spot. Soon a score of dark, shaggy forms were seething and plunging like a vortex about the 10g. Why were they there? What quarry were they about to attack? Still they continue to close around the log, nearerand nearer, their glowing eyes scintillat- ing like beads of fire floating athwart the dark- ness, At last one of the brutes ventures to shut his glittering teeth upon the object upon the log, but at the same instant they all recoil like a receding wave, and a groan—a human groan Seem from the center of that circle of ravenous beasts. A human being is lashed upon the log! Who was it? And who with the heart of a demon had been so cruel as to put a fellow-being in such an awful position? The wolves soon recover from their affright. They rally, and again begin circling around the log, gradually closing in toward if. They are cunning, and feel their way with caution, Another groan bursts from the lips of the un- fortunate being. Again the wolves recoil, but they soon close in again. They are growing bolder. They are closing for the attack. The doomed man—for man it is—seems to un- derstand his danger. He struggles to free him- self; he tries to break the thongs that hold him down; he hears the roar of the river hard by; and now he feels their hot breath upon his cheek; he cannot defend himself—he can only cry to Heaven for help. But he seems deserted by all—even Heaven. For now a huge beast fastens its fang: upon his arm, and tears at the tender, quivering flesh. | Oh, what a piteous cry bursts forth upon the air! But, there is no pitying ear to far it. The wolves have nothing to fear., They seem to know it, and close in for their feast. But hark! what thunderous noise? It comes like the booming roar of breakers dashing over astony reef. It is water! The swollen waves of the river have broken from its banks, and are sweeping madly along the shore in one mighty, resistless flood, bearing everything be- fore it. The wolves utter a cry of affright. ._ They turn from the object of their banquet to flee. But they are-too late. The flood grasps them up in its strong embrace, and they are carried away on its foaming bosom, But they are not alone. In their midst, tossing and rolling Sh the torrent, is that human form still lashed to the log. : CHAPTER XL A WHITE, WHITE FACE, Tne scene changes. It is midday. The sun looks down from a clear sky. The air is cool and bracing, and comes laden with a fresh per- fume, sweet as the delicious fragrance of Araby or Ind. ‘The forest is redolent with its songs of nature—who has not heard them in the wilder- ness? It was like walking through a wildwood just from the hands of the Creator to traverse that forest, wHere, but the night before, the storm- winds wrestled with the giant trees, and where death and mystery stalked abroad, And the river, which had broken from its confines and rushed and roared across the lowlands, ha spent its fury and might, and sunk back within its channels, Not a sound could be heard nor a living object, seen. The place seemed tenantless—an unin- habited solitude—unpressed by the foot of man or Seager hallowed temple, er the home of in- visible s ved ut this was not the case. There was life within the forest and upon the river. As the sun declined westward from his noon- tide meridian, a small bark-canoe shot suddenl out into the river from the mouth of a little creek, over whose waters the dense foliage formed a dark, green archway. jae In the little craft was seated a maiden, who had scarcely passed her sixteenth summer. She was a bee of rare. loveliness—sylph-like in form and ark lustrous, and shaded by long silken Jashes, A wealth of dark hair was gathered back from a rmitted to flow in brow of Grecian mold and er snowy neck and rippling waves down over stoulders, * Nps She was_ her knees, and— in a uty. a 7 \* Their | | of dark specks sai a large buzzard eature. Her eyes were dark and around her, as if exzecting some one, or as if on the look-out for danger. She continued to pad- dle her canoe on up the stream, never permitting her vigilance to relax for a moment. At length her are was arrested by a number ing in the air, some distance up the river. They were buzzards. And the , forest beauty knew that their presence was | attracted there by something below—something that promised them a feast. They might be only folowing a party of sav, ages like the sneaking wolf, for by instinct these birds have learned that the trail of a war-party is invariably marked with bloodshed and desert ed quarry.’ The maiden permitted the canoe to come to a stand while she watched the circling birds. She saw at once they were coming closer and closer, and seemed to be following the course of the river. She felt satisfied that it was some object on the bosom of the stream that the filthy birds wero following. It might bea lifeless carcass, or, perchance, a convoy of savages going down ‘the river. erasping the paddle firmly, she ran her canoe close in shore, and concealed herself under the drooping willows in a little cove, from whence she could still command a view of the river, some distance above, She saw the buzzards still approaching—at times almost settling down to the tree-tops, then starting up again as if with affright. She now felt sure they were following a party of Indians, and listened intently to catch the dip of their tte eh or some sound that would confirm her relief. r, But she heard nothing. ‘The birds came closer and closer—now so clear that she can see their bald heads and naked coral necks bent down- ward toward the bosom of the river. . Something is there. She can see it rounding the bend of the stream above her. It was a large log floating on the surface. As it comes nearer, a cry bursts from the lips oi the forest beauty, and horror is stamped upof her fair, sweet face. Upon the log she sees human form lashed. It is the form of a man. It is bound upon the back, while the white, white face is staring heavenward. But there is no motion in it. It is lifeless! > ? CHAPTER XII, vs AN ANGEL OF MERCY. Likr a gtraven.image, the forest. beauty sat with eyes ‘fixed on the terrible signe before her —a man, apparently dead, and lashed upen a floating log. __ As the terrible etvess came nearer, she saw that the unfortunate being was a white man—a mere youth. His arms were bent_backward, and bound in @ painful tion. His clothes were soaking wet, and his dark hair was tangled over his head and neck in dripping masses» Human pity ape kindness asserted their ower within the breast of the maiden. She ew at once some cruel foe had placed that unfortunate youth there, and she resolved to free him. But would it be of earthly use? Was he not beyond human aid#—dead? 2 The maiden gazed intently at him for this in-_ formation. le down on the log, by the motionless head of the youth. j ened with a strange horror and suspense, for next instant she ay lirges to see the filthy bird bury iy beak in the eyes of the dead. Buta thought struck her—she would prevent the mu- tiation of that fair, boyish face. . She grasped her rifle and drew back the ham- mer. Just then she saw the vulture crane its. neck and peer down into the pale, upturned — face before it, with an almost human interro-— gative look. Then it uttered a startled cry, spread its great somber wings, and rose alott into the air. A cry of joy burst involuntarily from the. maiden’s lips. To her the bird’s actions spoke - Jainer than words. The youth bound upon the og was not dead! t did not require a second thought to decide oe 5 4 the maiden’s course of action, A few strokes of her paddle carried the little craft ane & of the floating log. She drew the keen little blade from her belt, and hastily severed the ~ — thongs that bound the beautiful young stranger in his awful position. He was to ly unconscieus, and i ereat effort of the maiden to lift | itrequireda = af canoe. But she accomplished it with safety, — n a frock reaching only to | anda murmur of tha Heaven issued fr Pe e in a st. ei ‘monizing | her tremulous lips. The next A little iar driving her carioe rapidly d nks to Heaven : : down the river. She soon came to the mouth of the, creek , wi CI she he 1 de s+ as Sats 4 « ee i 4 ~ - — ~ re stile ow and disgust she saw . Startled by the last thought, and ~ } | < ‘ Her soul sicky ' . moment sho was a Ps - oa > F ty ‘x : a . —e « 63 ~~ A — ‘we, ‘ ee Li eet o. - —, a » Pete 5 < . ~ ~e r > ; a