Beadle's Dime Library, No. 13 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

14 ----— oe brightness of which he still manifested a child- ish pleasure. There was a large tree just back of the camp, beneath which the youth spread Nick’s blanket, and upon which his patient reclined. He gazed up into the sky with strange curiosity, and at every object around him, as if they were new revelations, and had but now burst upon his senses. Cool breezes, wafted from the meuntain-sides, loaded with the breath of trees and flowers, swept gently across his face, refreshing him with their balm- iness, moving the dark locks Pe his tem- ples. His past world had faded from his memory, and the one he now lived in was in fantile and full of novelty. The past, with him, was dim, fragmentary, and chaotic, like one’s recollections of the scenes of infancy and half-forgotten childhood. Yet there must have been fitful flashes of his former existence among mouatains and streams, upon Jakes and pane and of a love that, at some period, absorbed his thoughts, and influenced the actions of his life; for Sebastian, as he re turned to the camp, heard him singing : “ My sweet-heart was a prairie-flower— She dwelt beside the flowing water ; I stole at midnight to her bower— I loved a wandering trapper’s daughter: Oh! the trapper’s daughter !” The words and the plaintive voice affeeted the youth. He sighed, and tears started to his eyes. His breast heaved like a woman's. There was much tenderness in the boy. Pos- sibly, the voice was like one he had heard somewhere ; who knows? ‘There are a thou- sand things that make us sad without our knowing why. Sometimesa single tone makes us thrill. y is it? Because it connects us mysteriously with the past. How inexplicable is that passion which even the extinction of reason cannot smother ; that will break out like hidden fire, glow up a mo- ment with a touch of its former fervor, and then die away like the transient flame of a we of burning flax ! he mournful chorus followed Sebastian to the hut: “Oh! the trapper’s daughter !” “ Wondrously like!” murmured the lad. “ The same mouth; the same reflective eyes jand massy brow ; and,” he added, thongbtful- ly, “ has loved a trapper’s daughter !” The boy fell into a fit of musing ; it became him, too; for his face had a touching beauty, rendered yet more beautiful by the drooping wing of Melancholy. Brightening, by-and-by, he called the dogs and fed them—talking to them, meanwhile, as if they were creatures capable of compre- hending human speech. “Smuggler, you are over-modest. Take that bit; it is for you. Misfortune, you are overbearing ; you are what, among men, if called a tyrant. Eat what I give you, and be content. You have a bad name, sir—but lit- tle better than your former one; though Ca- lamity and Misfortune mean much the same thing. I wish uncle Nick would still call you Calamity ; for I like not to be followed by a dog called Misfortune—a dog that follows a reat many people. Old friends are you and Nicholas ! e has told me a great many sto- ries about you—how faithful you have been to him, and how many ‘sondemned little diffi- kilties’ you both got into and got out of. You don’t look like an old dog, either. And as for beauty—ah ! you're not handsome, s*-—you're not handsome! You are shaggy, and look sour, and never wag your tail on anybody but Nick and me. But thou art a very honest dog—a very honest dog, indeed !” “Wah! wah!” It was a rough voice that uttered these sounds—a voice that made Sebastian turn with a convulsive start. Two men entered the hut—Ben Joice and Zene Beck--who, though often bickering and quarreling, were kindre natures, and hunted in couples. “Ingin boy—half-breed—alone in camp- eat him up—swaller him whole. Ugh! ugh! added Ben Joice, imitating the Indian etyle o' communication, and assuming a threatenin, aspect for the purpose of playing upon th ’s fears, who drew back saad the dog: and stood moticnless as a statue. “ Young—tender—build fire—roast him Wah!” continued Ben, making a horribly ug); face. Zene Beck, perceiving that Sebastiau seeyne: ready to fall down with terror, burst into « loud laugh. “White men—great chiefs—mighty w: riors—half-Ingin boy prisoner—-go with us ies—alow bura- baim-wa-:. prairi | little yaller varmint to death.” The New .zork Library. added Ben. “There! Stop, Ben, or you'll frighten the Then to Se- bastian: “ Fly round, you half-breed spawn, and cook somethin’ to eat. There's a piece o’ bufferler ; knife it off in a minute and put it to the fire,” said Zene Beck. “Not too fast. Who keeps camp?” said Ben. Sebastian tried to speak, but at first his voice was so low as to be inaudible. “Speak up, you chicken! What’s the mat- ter, eh? Don’t ye know anything?’ growled Ben, making an ominous rattling with his wea- ons. “ Nick Whiffles !” said Sebastian, distinetly. Joice and Beck exchanged glances. It was clear that they did not relish this information. Zene seowled and shook his head. “Pooh! pooh!” exclaimed Joice. “ Ain't afeard of a name, be ye? Don't care no more for Nick Whiffles nor I do for a bufferler calf. Let’s sarch round and see if he’s got anything drinkable ’bout the primises.” “T advise you not to meddle much among Uncle Nick’s things,” said Sebastian, whose emotions did not appear to arise from a real spirit of cowardice. “Zene, masticate that little yaller boy! Bone him—bolt him! I['ll take.a peep under this pile o’ boughs, and in the cornes ginerly. Sich critters as this lank Nick Whiffles allers keep some choice sperrits agin accidents.” Joice went feeling about in every corner of the camp, and finally lighted upon a keg of whisky, which Nick had kept carefully for ur- gent occasions. He gave a loud whoop at this discovery, with a long addition of crabbed In- dian, which was finally choked off by a stream of the much-prized Rated, which went down his throat with that peculiar sound character- istic of drinking from such a vessel. Aftera frightful draught, he passed the keg to Beck, smacked his lips, drew the sleeve of his hunt- ing-shirt across bis beard, and having en- joyed the flavor a moment in silence, asked Sebastian: ‘* Where’s he gone? When’ll he come back?” Understanding him to refer to Nick, Sebas- tian replied that he would return soon. “Then we must hurry up. Fix the fire and go to cookin’, you smoothed-skinned half-and- half! Step quick, too. I cut a young Ingin’s ears off once for not steppin’ quick enough.” “Don’t threaten me,” answered Sebastian, pointing at the dogs. “Bah! ‘Speect I'm afeard of a couple o’ pups? I’ve fit with grizzly bears, I have; elinched right in with ’em on equal tarme, with no weepons but my teeth and nails. Til take the varmints by the seruff of their necks, and hold ’em up di) Would a couple o’ kittens, and knock their heads together wounded hard, too !” “ That dog”—pointing to Misfortune, whose back was bristling, and whose eyes were flam- ing with mischief—* but waits my command to tear you in pieces!” answere Sebastian, with sudden spirit. “ Hoity-toity! My son John!” exclaimed Ben, with much affected humor, but prudent- ly falling back a little from the neighborhood of Misfortune. “The homely cuss does look ugly,” said Zene, setting down the keg and retreating, also. “ Don’t let's make a row till we’ve had our grub. Arter we git through with that, ‘we'll look round for the spiles ; and I warn ye, aforehand, that I’ll stan’ no gammon about the division.” As it happened, Zene placed the keg upon the spot where both had previously laid their rifles. The dogs, as if by mutual agreement, seeing their master’s property en rr Big »osted themselves by the keg, one on eac side, Misfortune crouching directly upon the rifles. The ruffian-tra pu aie not observe this move- ment at the time, nor did they see Sebastian ao he made @ motion toward them with his and. “You want something to eat; I have no objection to cooking it, provided you will be quiet, Give me your hunting-knife’"—to Joice — “and I'll cut some nice slices from this hump.” The fellow threw his hunting-knife at Sebas- tian’s feet, who picked it up, and after sawin away at the hump a few minutes, complaine that it was dull, and asked Beck for his; the latter gave him the implement, growling at his tardiness. He then cut the meat quickly, but did aot return the knives. He addressed him- self to the task assigned him with seeming alacrity, and his lawless and uninvited guests were speedily employed in masticating large and delicious steaks of buffalo hump. Pres- ently, as a natural consequence, they grew thirsty ; and Ben arose to look for the keg of whisky, and saw two sets of threatening eyes fixed upon him; while the vessel that con- tained the devoted treasure was lying between them. € CHAPTER XII. WHICH TREATS OF VARIOUS MATTERS, The drenching draught that Ben Joice had swallowed was operating upon his brain, arousing what was vicious within him, pre him valorous, boastful, and ready to qua with whoever or whatever might be disposed to take offence at his conduct. He stared at the dogs with stupid wonder, then with fierce and fast kindling ire. He took a hesitating and ex- perpaee ey step forward, but the prestige of the og Misfortune became so ominous that he paused, doubting the propriety of a farther ad- vance. Finding that he could use his tongue with leas danger than his feet, he emptied upon them from his lawless mouth a torrent of inveo- tive of which persons of his type only are mas- ter; but which, so far from intimidating his canine opponents, served but to inflame their ferocity. They arose warily to their feet, and displayed their teeth in concert. “Don’t provoke them, if you value life!" said Sebastian, warning. Joice stepped back, brimming with wrath, To rob a wild, free trapper of his whisky, especially when under its influence is to give mortal offence. His keen and whetted appe- tite longs for the maddening potion, and brooks not patiently the thwarting of his de- sires. Ben felt in his belt for a pistol, but dis- covered, to his chagrin, that the weapon was not there. “Give me your pistols, Zene, and I'll fix oe ms brutes quicker’n an Ingin can take a sku ” , Joice stretched his hand backward without taking his eyes from the dogs, “ Left em at camp,” answered Zene. Brace wanted ’em.” “ Ourse the luck! I left mine, too. That's allers the way; when you want a thing you ha’n’t got it. Look at them confounded pups, will ye? They're layin’ right on our weepons, and there’s that keg o’ sperrit right atween ‘em.”’ : “Pups! precious nice pups! bull-dogs, I should say. Now look here, Ben : I’ve heerd of Nick Whiffles’ dogs. That savagerous look- in’ one is the same critter that he used to call Calamity, I'll bet two hoss-loads o’ peltries! He’s an awful varmint, and I shouldn’t care to tackle him if I had forty pistils. Hillo! where’s my knife ?” , Zene felt for his favorite weapon. Z “You little mixed-up Ingin heathen, where’s my knife ?” he asked, turning threateningly te Sebastian, who had edged toward the dogs. and now stood beside them. “A trick! a trick!” cried Joice, furiously. “Toss “em here, you traitor! Don’t play with the grizzly’s claws, ‘less you want to be tore to pisses.” | Ben swelled out his chest, scowled, and dis- torted his mouth to subdue the boy with fear ; but he quietly held up the weapons in his right hand, saying, with a calmness that took them by surprise : “Attempt to take them, and I'll launch these dogs upon you like lightning! I have only te exclaim, sharply, ‘down with the brutes ! and they dart at you like panthers.” _Ben Joice puffed the breath slowly from his dilated ehest, stared a moment at Sebastian, and swallowing his rage, went slowly back to his meal, Though baffled, he was not conquered, and as he sent installment after installment into that craving gulf, the stomach, he growled be- Laren o eeuiie ant at the youth from under etling brows in a mann boded no good. 4 1): Presently he began to talk with Zene in a fashion calculated to terrify the listener: His companion fell into his vein, and as the liquor worked more potently, they told frightful stories, and boasted of their lawless exploits in the mountains ; of bloody feuds with brother trappers; of unprovoked encounters with the ~ ians, or ~ y of robberies and sssassin- ations in the lone , closing with an un- feeling allusion to A rape they had shot in the canon. “We'd had a fine time at cuttin’ and slash- “ Bill | in’ if C ’ Di pa 9 : > ete he ECOMLEDOO CO