Beadle's Dime Library, No. 13 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

i = et - * te ee i -—- = - ’ — =t =~ = SS — re. ——_ = is =; = iF ~— —— —* = — = ~—————— —— = 26 zing. The trapper approached the tawny oy with the soft, elastic step of an Indian. He touched him upon the shoulder. Joe turned, with a notable start of surprise. “You a’n’t a parfect redskin,” said the trapper, quietly. ‘“ That’s a kind of insex that’s seldom taken onawares. An Ingin, in the reg’lar business of trail and war-path, wouldn’t *lowed me to steal a march on him.” Joe put out his hands, and ste ped back several paces, while the paint sidtiied to whiten on his face. “Joe young; Joe never followed war-path. White man great hunter, very cunning !” The voice of the young savage was not clear, but husky with a predominant feeling. “Can’t say the same of you, by Seay tte What you been lookin’ at them animiles for?” “Joe tired of stayin’ in lodge. No know what pale-faces say; their talk is strange to Ingin Joe.” “ Now you're lyin’, you little scamp!” ex- claimed Nick, seizin the lad by the collar, and holding him with the grasp of a vice. “I obsarved ye, you youn ny goon You heerd and understood as well as I or the little ’un; and you not on’y understood, but you showed too much interest by considerable.” At this point, Nick lifted Joe up and set him down again several times, as if to show him his strength. “T’ve killed a good many Ingin boys fust an’ last, off and on,” quoth the trapper, care- lessly; “and I don’t sleep none the worse for’t.” Joe trembled at first, but gaining courage, spoke for himself : “ What you go to hurt Joe? Joe boy—you man ; if Joe man and you boy, Joe no choke, no shake |” “Ingin, you know too much. I’m less dis- poses to trust ye than I was afore. You may e all right, but I’m blest if I believe it! Where there’s any doubt, it’s best to treat an honest man as if he’s a rogue. Arter this, you'll consider yourself a prisoner o’ war ; and not o’ war neither, but of sarcumstances.” At this announcement, Joe became highl indignant, his anger showing itself in his flushed face and sparkling eyes. At one mo- 'ment, Nick believed his passion would find vent in a flood of tears, but a sharp, though evident struggle checked the impulse. He stood with his chest heaving like a sullen and petulant woman. “What!” he exclaimed; then checked him- self, as if he had manifested too much feeling, or said something that he ought not to. “Did you say ‘ What?’” demanded Nick, stroking his beard with his disengaged hand. “Have you l’arned so soon to tall like white folks? A mighty sharp and obsarvin’ lad you be, I allow.” “Joe cay, What for you ’buse Ingin boy? He friend of pale face; guide him long way ; bring him here safe; no let bad white man hurt him.” “ Jes’ so!” answered Nick, mildly. “Sartin —zactly. You took him from the mean skunks, and I’m ’bleeged to ye; but men in danger don’t stan’ on nice distinctions. You know what distinctions is, don’t ye, redskin ?” Joe shook his head very slowly. “Tn course not! A heathen oughtn’t to know flambergasted words. I’m glad you don’t ; for I don’t like to see insex of your color imitatin’ their betters: so, beggin’ your pardon, I'll jest trot ye back to camp.” With a remorseless grip upon his arm that was nearly too much for Joe’s stoicism, the trapper led, or rather dragged, him toward the hut. “T won't hurt ye—not a bit—Oh Lord, no!” —the boy was ready to ery with pain—* nor I won’t injure your feelin’s, or deprive ye of none o’ your nat’ral rights ; but jest tie your legs, and hitch ye up to a little tree till you’re wanted ; not ’cause I’ve got anythin’ agin ye, for I ha’n’t; but to keep ye from runnin away.” | “Joeno run; no go to the Valley; no tell.” | “¥ know ye wont, Ingin. It isn’t in the ‘natur’ o’ things for ye to git away arter I’ve tied ye up.” Nick locked at his captive, and saw two large tears trembling upon his long lasnes. “I’m glad none o’ your kith and kin is here to see that!” added Nick. “’Mong your peo- le, eryin’ is left princip’ly to the squaws. arriors don’t ‘low the feelin’s of their hearts to work up as fur as the eyes.” Nicholas had, by thie time, reached the; sump. Pathaway came out w remonstrate — weet ——_—- oe The New York Library. wit) him about his treatment of the boy. ‘ He is a mere child,” he said, “and to me has thus far been faithful. I must protest against undue severity.” “Sartin; it’s your priverlege to pertest. But when life is at stake, we musn’t stan’ at bearin’ down a trifle on human natur’; pro- vidin’, allers, that Ingin natur’ is of that sort. The missioners think ’tis; but, arter all that’s said and done, they're heathen—not knowin’ & Bible from a pack o’ keerds. Howsomnever— we must git ready for a start. Portneuf, whip a string round this youngster’s wrists—arter which, take a turn round a saplin’ of some magnitood, and keep your eye on him till I it back; I’m goin’ to take a look at the signs Rereabouth: By usin’ my fakilties to the best advantage, I may git hints that’ll ee sar- viceable. We shall be hunted like hares; but I trust we shall be able to put eunnin’ agin cunnin’, and throw the hounds from the scent.” Joe unresistingly suffered his hands to be bound, though he cast, oceasionally, reproach- ful glances at Pathaway. Repeating his ad- monition to the Frenchman to ef a strict watch over Joe, Nick thoughtfully left pet to test the power of his educated faculties an sharpened instincts. As soon as he was out of sight, the gray hunter approached the youthful Indian, and said, soothin ly : “Do not « ieved, my lad, at this treat- ment. You ial Goss to no harm. Submit = to the humors of Nick Whiffles, who, am sure, will not wrong you intentionally.’ He then examined the cord about bis wrists, and, finding it rather tight, loosened t. Joe said nothing —neither expressed his thanks nor his resentment—but stood with downcast eyes and moody brow. CHAPTER XXII. NICK GETS INFORMATION ABOUT HIMSELF. All remained quiet at the little camp in the wilderness. The day passed without bringing fresh adventure or new signs of the nearness of enemies. The only observable difference of departure from the common routine was, that the fire was extinguished after the morning meal; nor was it lighted again till nearly night, and then kept burning but long enough to pre- pare their simple articles of food. Both Nick and Pathaway were outlying the camp during the greater part of the day, to note those evi- dences of foes perceptible to experienced eyes alone, and utterly invisible to the novice, how- ever developed his natural perspicacity. Many times did Doubledark ascend the hills and ris- ing grounds in the vicinity, and cast searching glances toward the Valley, the eastern slopes, and the whole surrounding tract, far as his vision could reach. As soon as the sun had veiled his glories behind the mountains, Nick led the norses te the door, and covered their feet with large strips of buffalo and deer-skin—observing ex- traordinary care in the performance. “Man,” he said, “that hasn't been gifted with the instine’s of the lower animiles, has reason to make up for’t. You perceive, little un”—addressing Sebastian more particular! —<“that I put on these bandages with the hair side out, which makes a soft cushion for the feet, and leaves no track for a pryin’ Black- foot, or, what amounts to the same thing, the runagade whiteskins that have fell from the grace of their color, as 'twere, and rendered theirselves fit marks for the fust honest rifle that can be brought to bear on ’em. Bad stuff,” he muttered, musingly, “is white blood turned sour.” He paused in his labors; and holding a fore- foot of his horse Shagbark upon his knee, with the skin gathered upon it in folds, held by his left hand, raised his right with suggestive earnestness, as if he would appeal to every ra- tional person’s understanding, and added : “If the p’ison newspapers had got hold of them mean skunks, instead of a simple old mie | 08 who giner’ly minds his own business, and don’t keer to have his business advertised, et? a hit it!” icholas breathed better after this remark, and, with a face upon which there was dissat- isfaction, but no anger, tied a buckskin thon over the segment of buffalo skin that shield the sharp hoof of his animal. “ They have carried you ever and ever 80 many miles, uncle Nick, those feet,” said Se bastian. “You may b’lieve it, Humbug,” replied Nick, with deliberation. “Yes, white boy humbug!” exclaimed In- dian Joe, scornfully. “ Hullo! look out what you say there, red- skin, or you'll be put under a trifle of restraint in!” At the solicitation of Pathaway, the boy- — had been released from the ignominy of onds—he having expressed so much faith in his integrity, that Doubledark had reluctantly yielded to his wishes. The horses having been duly moccasined, Sebastian was placed upon one of them, which was, of course, Nick’s. “We must let the little un ride, on count of his arm, which is cut nighabout off; and I shouldn’t wonder if mortification sets in soon. Mortification runs in the blood of the Whif fleses.” “You told me,” said Pathaway, quickly, with a troubled look, “that the lad’s flesh heals with remarkable readiness.” “When at rest, it does; but jest let that boy stir about more ’n common on them spar- rer legs, and he’d git up the condemndest in- flammation that you can ’magine. I’ve seen sich inflammations on that lad !” ‘ Let him ride, by all means ; and, as his wound properly belongs to me, and should b» sredited to my own flesh and blood, I wih walk beside him when practicable, and give him particular attention during our fligag however long it may be or difficult. Poor Andrew Jeanjean can mount the animal tnat bore me in safety from Trapper Valley. while my youthful guide ean take the othes. We are indebted for the two to the wild girl of Trapper Trace, whose kindness I 6 ever remember with gratitude.” “ He can jest as well run along at the horses’ heels,” answered Nick, throwing a suspicious glance at Joe. “It’s the natur’ o’ the varmint to run. Howsomnever, he’ll prehaps be safer on horseback, though I shall tie him on to keep him from givin’ us the slip in the dark. Portneuf, jump on to Daphnis, and lead the way toward Black Rock by the path I showed e to-day. You're used to the wilderness, and shall trust a good ’eal to your sharpness.” Then to the gray hunter: “In re to a young man o’ your ’euteness, I shall have lit- tle to say in the way of advice—takin’ it for sartin that you know a trail from a bufferler- ath, and the sign of an inemy from the scram- lin’ of a mountain-goat or the springy step of a deer or antelope. As for me, I shall be ahind and afore, and scoutin’ about on every side; for, to tell you the truth (and it ’twont do no good to conceal it), ’'ve seen symptoms of a p’ison diffikilty.” “ We’re not women and children,” answered Pathaway, drily. “No,” responded the trapper, bluntly, “ but we’re men and boys ; and sich at dct funny boys! One’s got a condemned gash, and ‘tother’s got a natur in him that’s agin white natur, leastwise. Climb up, Copperface !” The last injunction was directed to Joe, who mounted with reluctan e and sat awkwardly in the saddle. In spite of the remonstrances of the hunter, Nicholas secured the boy as if he were a captive taken in lawful warfare. ‘Move on, Frenchman,” said Doubledark. “ Pathaway, you'll have an eye to the boys, while I will have eyes for you all.” Portneuf spoke to Daphnis and the parties were in motion, with the exception of Nick, who lingered, with the dogs at his side. He watched them out of sight, the muffled steps of the horses sending back no sound, and leav- ing a trail intelligible only to the most dis- cerning eye. Withdrawing a short distance from the hut, he stood motionless some ten minutes, looking now at Smuggler, now at Calamity as they crouched at his feet, then at the deserted and lonely lodge. The moon had not arisen, a deep obscurity = upon the wilderness, calculated to in- spire feelings of isolation, had Nick been dis- posed to indulge in such emotions. But his mind was as firm as his own stee and he could *ely upon it as well rhere was a faint stir and quiver in the grass on the opposite quarter of the camp ; it subsided ; the long spires ceased to move ex- cept in obedience to the wind, while Nick re. mained as fixed as the tree that sheltered him. There was a billowy undulation in the rank foliage again, then a tufted head lifted slowly above it, then a red face, with gleaming eyes and earnest, eayer expression. ‘* Misfortune™ ee: up at his master, then at the erect, ronzed head. Nick gave him a gentle hint to be quiet with the breech of his rifle, which EOMICbHOOKs. co <i ee er EE ee nal te IP lags Se ;