Beadle's Dime Library, No. 13 — page 40: what you’re looking at

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~ — ee ee _ ~~ 40 ——— jieturing some of the horrors of such a fate. The air was damp and chilly, and the walls, when he touched them in feeling his way for ward, felt like blocks of ice. By-and-by a thread of light appeared, but which was much farther off than it at first seemed; it grew stronger as they advanced. and crept down, as they perceived, through a cleft inthe rock. Both parties hailed the light of day with satisfaction. While pausing to breathe the fresher air and catch a glimpse of the upper world, Multno- mah’s eyes fell upon an extinguished and haJf- burned torch thrust into a crevice, where it had been placed, doubtless, by some one for future use. The torch was at once lighted by means of one of Pathaway’s pistols, the dog waiting for them impatiently. They soon reached a spot where the subterranean way sudden! widuaiod, and the ceiling was more lofty. The stream ran onward in @ narrow bed, while there was firm aud eomparatively dry footing to the right and left. Calamity now darted forward to the right, at right angles with the stream, and presently they heard him bark loudly. Both quickened their steps. The light fell upon a dark chasm, upon the brink of which the dog was standing. Mualtmoniih approached it carefully, and sink- ing upon his knees, held the torch over the abyss. oN icholas! Nicholas!” said Pathaway, ima low voice. There was no answer to this call. “He must be here,” added the young man “ The instincts of the dog cannot err. Nicholas! Nicholas !” - He spoke louder, but his voice seemed to rebound from the abyss as if the darkness below were impenetrable even to sound. Calamity bayed persistently, his heavy voice echoing over their heads like a volley of mus ketry. “Hullo! you there, dog?” hailed a voice that appeared to come from a great distance. “Could you raise any body to come arter me, old feller, or must I make up my mind to give up things of a sublunar nature in this pesky hole.” “ Nick! Nick!’ shouted Pathaway. “ Your friends are here. What has happened? How fare you?” “Ts that you, Colonel? I’m glad to hear a human voice. I’m in a p’ison diffikilty, I swear to gracious !” said the voice that incontestibly belonged to Nick Whiffles. “ You're alive, thank God!” exclaimed the hunter. , “ Yes, alive, but the condemned boy carrie me a good ’eal out o’ my depth. Here I am in a well deep enough for the driest seasons, I allow, though there happens to be but little water in it jest now. I’d come up and see ye if I could, but I can’t leave; which onp’lite- ness I hope you'll excuse.” “ But how did you get in, and how shall we get you out ?”’ inquired Pathaway. ‘Tt all come of that boy,” replied the trap- per, in a melancholy veice. “ And he wasn’t much in the boy line, neither. I’m a good ’eal took down, Colonel — ever so much took down !” “ You are, indeed,” replied the hunter ; “more, I fear, than we shall be able to take you “ Treachery’s somethin’ we can’t guard ag’inst, and the best on us is liable to be took in by it. Wait a moment, Colonel, and I'll climb up tbe rocks where I can speak to ye with less exartion.”” Nick was silent a short time, during which Pathaway heard him toiling up the rocks. “T can’t git no higher,” he said, presently, “for it’s smooth as my hand above the ledge I’m standin’ on. I’ve tried hard enough to find a foothold and a hand-hold, but I might ’a’ spared my strength. I don’t think a human critter ever got into jes’ sich a diffikilty afore. a gran’father prehaps come the nearest to it when he was slopped out of his sulky into the crater o’ Vesuvius; but then he was blowed out onto tarry farmy ag’in by the next ’ruption. But there’s been no ruption here, and wouldn't be ’f I's to stay to alletarnity. .Oh Lord, no!” Nick reflected a moment on this unaccom- modating state of affairs, and went on again. “T never had much faith in the boy, as you know, colonel; I allers looked on him with a s’picious eye. ‘ Little Pison,’ sez I to myself every time I seed him, ‘ you a’n’t here for no bonpe’ f I had him tied more nor once, as it won’t trouble you to recollect. But when he eome to speak about the gal, sayin’ that he’d The New York Library. lead me to her, he took me at my weak p’int. If there’s anything more nor another that soft- ens me, it’s calico in diffikilty. He looked honest-like, and I thought I’d trust him. He took me to the Devil’s Gate, on a bee line, and it wasn’t the fust time by many that he’d tra- versed the ground, I alone e guided me through the tunnel like a little craft towing a big one, though I noticed that he got short- breathed and tired scramblin’ over the rocks. Well, we reached the stream, when the lad left me awhile, sayin’ he’d be back ag’in. I confess I felt mighty skeery and distrustful while he’s gone, but he ’peared arter a time with a couple o’ pine corded. This looked as if he’s in airnest, and the carcumstance give me courage.” ‘““« Take one o’ these here,’ sez he, ‘ and fol- ler me.’ So I took one of the torches and fol- lered him. His voice didn’t sound Inginy a bit, when he said that, but I was thinkin’ so much of Nanny, that I didn’t reflect on it long. Well, on he went, steppin’ -ery gingerly, as if Ingin boys was nat’raly ateard of the water. He shivered, too, sev’ral times, which made me think he was a odd redskin. But it often a ivee that our wit and wisdom don't come till arterwards. Good swimmers are drownded nighabout as frequent as other folks; so old trappers who have trod the peraries hard on to thirty year may be deceived by some silly animile that takes it into its head to play ’pos- sum. As I was tellin’ ye, the boy went mincin’ along afore me like a French dancin’-master, without so much as turnin’ the axletrees of his big eyes on to me till we reached this hole, which was as dark as darkness crowded in could make it. As Little P’ison held his torch over it, I thought the darkness had been rammed down with a ram-rod, by mighty! Glancin’ to one side on’t, I see a rope hangin’ down. ‘ This is a well, isn’t it?’ sez I, ‘where ye git the water for the ‘stablishment?’ Then the pesky nondeseription of a boy spoke Ingin ag’in arter the old fashion. “* Doubledark go down; take hold rope — slip along—come to bottom; then let go; walk good ways ; turn fust one , right hand, turn next ’tother way left hand; bime-by find white woman.’ I looked at him inquirin’, as ’twere, but he stood starin’ down to his feet, and pesky small feet oe was, though, as | told ye, my wit and wisdom didn’t come till too late. Somethin’ said to me, ‘ Nick Whif- fles, don’t go down!’ Then I thought of pretty Nanny, Portneuf, and Andrew Jeanjean. ‘ Lit- tle Ingin,’ sez I, in a voice that made him tremble, I allow, ‘I have my fears and doubts consarnin’ your natur’, and if you play me any o’ your heathen tricks, I'll skulp ye, I swear to gracious!’ Havin’ said them words, I ex- amined the rope to see if ’twas made sufficient fast, and findin’ it ’twas, trusted myself on it, like a fool, and went down with my torch, I swung about some time durin’ the descent ina way that was frightful ; but I reached the bot- tom in safety. ‘All right!’ sez I, and turned to look for the passage that I’s to foller with so many turnin’s to find the ta a darter. Would you b’lieve it, colonel, 1 thought of that song poor Andrew used to sing, and didn’t keer a straw about the danger. Holdin’ m light afore me, I soon parceived that I couldn't go a yess ways in any direction ’thout run- nin’ plump ag’in a wall of uirth and rock. ‘ Nick Whiffles, you've done wrong,’ somethin’ said to me ag’in, and a little qualm come over me. I made a sweep all round me with the torch, but there was no passage—not a sign of a passage | “As the conviction come over me, I seed the rope a glidin’ up over the jagged p’ints like a sarpint. That p’ison boy had drawed it up! I knowed then that I's deceived. BY, ‘What you doin’ with that rope?’ I shout. “*Drawin’ it up,’ sez he, in avoice that was mighty clear. “* What you drawin’ it up for?’ sez I, kind of husky-like in the throat. “*So you can’t git up,’ sez he. “*« You've betrayed me, you little redskin !’ sez I. ‘But don’t think that you'll git the ad- vantage of me for final. You might cram thin hole with p’ison diffikilties,’ sez I, ‘and you couldn’t keep Nick Whiffles down! Nick Whiffles isn’t of a natur’ to be kept down.’ “*Are the eyes of Doubledark 60 very dark ?’ screamed my guide from above, ip a tone that surprised me woundedly, ‘twas so much like a woman’s. ‘Has the old trapper become blind that he can’t distinguish the false from the true ?’ “There wasn’t a particle of Ingin in the voice, then; ’twas a white and girlish voice. “¢ When next you want tc see Ingin Joe,’ the critter went on, ‘inquire for Carlota, the outlaw’s daughter.’ “Colonel, I was dumbfounded! Searcely has anything come across me as that did. I was vexed and out o’ sorts with myeelf for be- in’ tooken in by a gal, though the character was played with a heap o’ discreetion and cun- nin’, “« Gal,’ I said, ‘ you’ve throwd dust in my eyes, I own, and it goes crossways to my price : but you done it well, and have nat’ral gifte that might be put to better uses. Bein’ a woman, you can't intend to do me no harm, but jest to have your woman’s joke; and as you’ve had it, drop the rope ag’in, and I'll climb out o’ this rat-trap; for it’s oncommon damp and onhealthy, and my lungs isn’t so strong assome. Don’t be afeard that I'll hurt ye, for I won’t. Nick Whiffles wouldn’t hurt one o’ the female persuasion on no account.’ ‘“«*Remain where you be for the present,’ sez she. ‘ You took the advantage of me when I’s nobody but poor Ingin Joe, and now you're gittin’ your pay for’t. Howsomnever,’ she went on, ‘I don’t say that I mean to starve you, though you’ve acted the spy on the Moun- taineers long enough to desarve it.’ “With that I told her that we eouldn’t none on us struggle ag’in Providence ; and if ‘twas so writ in the book o’ fate that I was to pores in sich and sich a manner, in that way should perish. ‘Marcy is a good thing in s woman,’ ‘ observed, in hopes to tetch her heart, and then the light disappeared above. Placin’ my ear to the rocks, I could hear her walkin’ away. My feelin’s was onpleasant ; I can’t describe ’em. For a little while, I allow I desponded, and the little diffikilty wed bigger every minute, and death looked at me from the damp walls, grim and awful. “ T stuck the torch into a crevice and watch- ed it burn, moralizin’ in a wholesome way. I heerd a mournful sound above. It was Ca- lamity howlin’ melancholy. I left him with Sebastian, but he took my trail and follered. Though the notes he made wasn’t cheerful, I didn’t feel nigh so lonely and cast down as I did afore. I talked to him as if he’s human, and he talked ’cordin’ to his gifts back ag’in, which was all he could do. My torch burned down and went out, and I sot there gloomy enorgh, ’thout thinkin’ of any way of ittin out the diffikilty. The damp air sort of chilled my blood; I'd been broke o’ my rest sev’ral nights, and | went off in a heavy, nightrareisa sleep that lasted a good while. I waked up cleared in jedgment, though benumbed in body. The dog was still at his post, and would you b’lieve it, colonel, on openin’ m eyes I could see nigpabont as well as afore the torch went out. The eye ’commodates itself to dark ness, you know, and people in dungeons, I’ve heerd, see very well arter awhile. I thought it time to make an effort, and l'arn if there's any chance of escape. Seein’ the rocks were pooty rough, I didn’t know but I could climb out. Findin’ foothold, I mounted with a dea) o’ trouble, but could git no higher nor here. While I stood lookin’ up wistfully, I seed somethin’ stackin’ in a crevice ; it was a piece o’ birch-bark, which had apperiently been used for a torch, for it was rolled up, and one eend on’t charred with fire. I took it, and settin’ on the ledge where I am now, engraved a mes- sage on’t with my knife. Then I picked off a fragment o’ rock and rolled it up in the bark. I didn’t sueceed in throwin’ it up at the fust trial, nor the second, neither, but was obleeged to go down to the bottom fort sev’ral times, which was no slight job; but presently I got it up. Take that,’ sez I to the dog, ‘and run like p'ison! Go,’ sez I, ‘right quick to Se- bastian or the colonel, or comabales and they'll know what to do.’ “* Bow-wow!’ answered the animile. | *** Come back with ’em,’ sez I, ‘and show | ’em the way.’ “He started off, and I’ve waited for him with what patience I could, though it’s very dull business down here, with sich a pros afore me. I knew I could depend on you and the Ingin, and trusted that Providence would befriend Nick Whiffles once more.” “ Your story is a strange one,” replied Pathaway. “So Carlota was my guide. "Iwas a singular whim, surely. It seems ineredible, but ir can now recall many inconsistencies in the character of Indian Joe.” ‘There was one among us who was not de- EomiIcbooks.com