Beadle's Dime Library, No. 13 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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pouch at his side. She continued her entreat- les; she attempted to take his hand, but he pushed her from him. Tired, apparently, of this scene, he looked significantly at the four ruffians in the background. They came for- ward, and laid their rough hands upon her. The trapper deemed such touch saerilege, and it required all bis self-discipline to prevent him from sen ‘ing a bullet through the head of the author of this outrage. She eeased to strug: gle, and, abandoning all earthly hope, appeared to be addressing her prayers to Heaven. They bound her white arms behind her; the rigot of the cords wonnaed her delicate wrists till they were stained with little drops of blood. She was then muffled in the large cloak, in which was placed a stone of considerable size, and both made fast to her person. The beautiful victim of these persecutions had already swooned, and was insensible to all these preparations. She was as motionless as a corpse, and as passive. The four mute men lifted the unresisting form, while the other two held their torches over the stream. While this was taking place, the trapper threw off his hunting-shirt, and divested himself of hie arms except his hunting-knife. His heart was beat- ing madly ; the blood went racing tumultucus- ly throug his veins, while his swarthy brow was streaming with perspiration. He resolved to hazard all for the woman. Of her history, of the events that led to this tragedy, he knew nothing ; but in his soul he believed her inno- cent of all crime, and undeserving thie fate to which she was too manifestly doomed. Her sex, her helplessness, her wondrous beauty, preter to him, and touched his heart as it had never been touched before. The men carried her to the very margin of the stream, swung the motionless body to and fro for a moment, and cast it from them; it fell into the dark water—it sank—-it disap- peared from view. A few bubbles marked the spot where it went down. The man with the sash gazed a few seconds at the disturbed sur- face, then, waving his torch, turned from the place, and, followed by his accomplices, as- cended, hurriedly, the rocks. All this was performed in silence; not a word had been uttered by the grim leader or his men. It ory before the eyes of the trapper like a orrible dream ; but, shaking off the chilling impression it had produced he lowered hivo self quietly aud quickly into the stream, with his Gatisachaiee hekwree his teeth, and diving, swam to the spot where the muffled form had gone down. He soon reached it, and with his knife dis- engaged the woman from the stone; then, rasping her with his left hand, struck out auite with his right, still keeping beneath the surface. He was a hardy swimmer, but by this time he began to experience a terrible pressure about the chest. The waters hissed and roared in his ears, and the demand for air was imperative and painful. He arose near the bank with his unconscious burden. He gasped, he breathed, he was strong again. He sprang from the water and drew her after him. He had seareely done this, when he heard quick footsteps on the rocks, and saw the gleam of a torch again. He threw himself down in the grass beside the immobile object of his solicitude. The assassin was returning to take a parting look at the stream, to see if his unlallowed work had been effeetually per- formed. He lingered but a short time, and turned on his heel, the trapper thought, with an inveluntary shudder. He was out of sight in @ moment. The hunter tore the eloak from the woman, and bore her to a drier and more sheltered spot. He chafed her temple, he rubbed her hands, and employed various other arts to bring her to consciousness. At first, a slight tremor of the body, then a sigh, assured him that his efforts were not in vain. A thrill of blushing life soon animated her peerless pro- open The beautiful eyes opened, the pale ips moved, and a gleam of intelligence illum- inated the face. Evidently that portion of time that had elapsed sinee she had been thrown into the water and taken from it, was entirely lost to her apprehension. The hor- ror inspired by the miscreants was still upon her ia aramount. Again she stretched out those white arms for merey, and uplifted those soft and piretns eyes. The movement deeply affected the trapper. “You're safe, little woman—you're safe !” ne exclaimed, earnestly. ‘The wretches have one, and you're with @ man who is ready to Hie for you! No more need of askin’ for mer- ——me The New York Library. cy, gal; no more claspin’ of them white hands in despair, no more turnin’ of that pale face to heaven!” The girl looked vaguely and incredulously at the hunter; her mind was disordered ; and she could not quite comprehend what had transpired, and her situation. The one idea of deadly peril still absorbed and bewildered her. “Look at me, gal! Recollect yourself. There's a friend near Phe who'll never desart you in the hour o’ difhkilty. See! the mon- asters are not here! You have escaped their eruelty—you are free and safe! Heaven be praised, who would not allow such a deed of darkness! I’ve allers believed in Providence. and I believe it more nor ever to-night!” The soothing tones and earnest words of the trapper acted like magic upon the girl. She began to understand; she saw a kindly sympathizing face bendmg over her, and the man, raising her tenderly, she pillowed her face upon his shoulder and wept like a child. The trapper laid his large hand protecting: ly upon her pretty head, and passed his fin- gers carelessly through her wet tresses. There was magnetism—there was enchantment in the movement, the girl was reassured—she felt, she knew, Mhat she was indeed safe, and aeleing the sun-browned hand, kissed it and droppe tears upon it. CHAPTER II. THE CAPTIVE TRAPPER. It was the vernal season in the mountains. The trees were in foliage; the stretching prai- ries were carpeted with green; and the winter snows had melted from the peaks of the ranges. The trapper stood on a shelving rock, look- ing down into a deep valley below. In height, he was over six feet—rather slim—straight as an arrow—his muscles hard and seasoned with exercise. He wore the garb of the Northern adventurer and hunter. His face was pleasant and genial, though it had a few legible care- lines upon it. Nature had gifted him with ore of those comical mouths which it is im- possible to reduce to melancholy, but which will persist, in the most trying emergencies, in looking hopeful and brave. His deep-set eyes harmonized wonderfully with his mouth, having the same cheerful prestige. His rifle rested easily and gracefully across his left arm. His tall and motionless figure, standing in re- lief against the rocks, would have formed a pleasing picture for the painter, whose artistic eye, overlooking common-places, seeks the picturesque and the bold as subjects of in- spiration. The man—whoever he was, or whatever his history—had evidently met Life’s vicissitudes with a manly front, and learned to endure, with a philosophical patience, misfortune that could not be averted. He was a nomad; his wandering nature was palpably written upon him. He carried with him, in some inexpli- cable way, the air of one who cannot remain at rest. Give him mountains, prairies, for- ests, and rivers, and keep him from cities and the haunts of civilized men, and he is at home, thou:h his mighty camping-grounds are an hundred miles apart. A dull sound crept up the ascent to the trapper’s ears ; it was hke unshod hoofs upon “eo seks. His hunter ‘nstincts at onee be- came active. He descended the jagged side of the mountain, until he could command a wider view of the valley; then, posting himself be- hind a tree, watched for the -ause o° the noise be had heard, which was soon apparent. Five horsemen appeared, and approached the spot where he was concealed. Four of the parties were natives of the country ; but the fifth was & white man, and a captive. As they came near, and drew opposite the trapper’s point of observation, he was able to arrive at several conclusions {n regard to the prisoner. He was a man considerably matured in life, and belonged, obviously, to that rough and roving class known as free trappers, who fraternize alike with the white and red races. It was plain that he had not been taken without a struggle — marks of which were pable enough upon his torn and soiled hunting- shirt, not to mention a wound upon his face. He was minus the skin cap usually worn b people of his type—having lost it, doubtless, in the conflict that attended his capture. His long, unkempt hair a in matted masses over his face, giving ita dogged and morose *xpression—heightened, questionless, by the itate of mind he was in. His hands were ashed at his back, with @ rigor that gave him s foretaste of the tortures in reserve for him vhen his captors should reach their camp or village. He was secured to his borse, to make issurance doubly sure, by stout thongs of buf- alo skin tied to his ankles, and passing under 1is horse’s flanks. It was easy to perceive that this wanderer if the wilderness was ill pleased with this ar- angement; and the sullen manner in which e bore his reverses, indicated that patience ras not among his prominent virtues. Two f his triumphant conquerors rode before, two hind him. The most important personage if the party kept a little in advance, and was learly a warrior of distinction. His face and iaked limbs were painted to the highest point f Indian fashion. His neck, chest and heeks were bedeviled finely with alternate treaks of black, red, and white. His head ras decorated with seven eagle feathers which old that he was of very high caste, indeed— ach feather representing a scalp that he had aken. In this part:cular, he enjoyed an envi- ble superiority over his three companions— one of whom could sport more than four of hese tell-tale badges, while one of them dis- ‘layed but two. It was near sunset. The declining rays of 1e golden orb fell brightly upon captors and aptive as they wit a past the spot where the capper was concealed. “ Liberty,” muttered the latter, “isa mighty , ood thing, specially when the sun sh nes, and natur’ looks pleasant. Now that. poor critter has lost his’n, and got into diffikilty. ‘hem p’ison sarpents ’I] take him to their vil- !sge and burn him, as if he’s a condemned Hottentot, or a heathen like thuirselves, The feller isn’t ‘tractive to look at, and has rather a hang-dog expression, I allow; but I don’t like the idee of his bein’ rubbed out afore hia time comes.” A light footfall caused the trapper to chang. his position: a boy of thirteen or fourteen had approached him unheard, and was now near him. He was a youth to fix the attention of the observer immediately, and retain it. Ip stature he was small, with a personal develo ment singularly delicate and graceful. His complexion was dark —his eyes large and dreamy—his feature wondrously regular aad fair. It was evident that he was of mixed blood; bnt the somewhat dusky hue of his cheeks did not seem to impair his beauty. His hair was long, black, and curling. 8 wore a light, jaunty cap, which partially con- cealed his forehead. His cat was small, round, and delicately set upon the shoulders, which were feminine in their contour, Hie frock, which was of the finest and softest dressed doeskin, was ornamented witia fringea of Indian needle-work. The sleeve, where it fell over the wrist, was wrought with bright colors in quills; while the hand below it a peared, by its smallness and delicacy, to, b unacquainted with toil: those members, had never been hardened with labor. His leggings and moccasins were of the same material as his frock, and of the same elaborate: make. To look at, he was indeed a handsome ‘youth The only fault that could be found with him was, that he was too effeminate to fill one’s idea of developing manliness ; yet this defeet did not inspire a feeling of contempt,. but rather of admiration; for there was a spirit. im the boy’s eyes, and an expression about his mouth, that checked the rising impulse of scorn or pity: His figure was erect—his step elastic. There was a smile on his lips when the trapper turned toward him. “ Ah! it is you, Sebastian ?” “Tt is I, Nicholas. I saw yon creep down the mountain, and observe something in the valley. Mountaineer, you have been mutter- ing to yourself,” replied the youth, in a clear, sweet voice. “ You have sharp eyes, lad. ‘There's little to be seen that you don’t see. You'd better - heed my advice, and stick close to camp,” an- swered the trapper. a i “It’s lonely at camp; besides, I don’t like to lose xy i of you, unele Nicholas,” returned the boy Sebastian. oat es “Lonely at the camp! Lonely with Mis fortin and Smug are as fond of ye as they be of fresh buffaler- hump. Blesy your soul, lad! what better eon:- pany do you want com (¢ 900 KS gler—-a brace of brutes ‘that