Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 148 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

eC CS Se ee it. My brain was afire, and when I got out and into the bushes | must’a’ fell unconscious, for not until half an hour ago did I know that ole Jack Eller had ever existed, or fit at Bran- dywine. Heavens and eartb, Alf! That fight beat any thing on record—ole Brandywine was nowhere beside it; and ah’s me, Alf! I reckon you and me are all that escaped that orful death. Poor Darcy! poor Darcey!” ‘*T have not seen any of the other boys,” re- plied the scout, ‘‘but I do see a number of charred skeletons in the ashes sopcers and their presence there makes me think that you and I are all that escaped.” ‘* But how did you git out, Alf?’ “T scarcely know, When the door was burst open and I rushed out into the open air nearer dead than alive, I thought 1 saw other human figuresemerge from the doorway amid that great tongue of red, hissing, crackling flame, that sucked out from the pent-up oven of fire within. But I must have been mistaken; it must have been the illusion of a wild hope.” “‘Ah me! ah me!” groaned old Jack, “I tell you it’s awful, Alf, to think of the horrible death of those brave boys. There was Cap’n St. John, and Darcy Mayfield, and Engle, and Tucker, and Norman, and that infernal whisky- trader—all must have been roasted to death.” ‘Not all, old Jack,” said a voice from the depth of the thicket behind them. ‘Glory! Glory!” shouted old Jack, ‘‘ it’s the cap’n’s voice; hurrah!” en from the thicket Captain Philip St. John came hobbling out, burned and bruised, and haggard. “Again thank God!” exclaimed One-Armed Alf. ‘‘I hope, captain, that you can tell us where the other boys are.” “IT can not,” the captain replied, glancing with a sigh toward those ghastly bones pro- truding from the aslses of the burned hut. “I saw Engle and Norman fall, either under sav- age blows or with suffocation—I was too near dead myself to tell which. At this time a rush was made for the open door, and I was carried out by the mad, rus ing throng. In the thicket there I fell, and there lay until the sound of your voices awoke me from my stupefaction.” “Oh, it was a terrible affair, St. John!” ex- claimed the scout; ‘‘ and it is but the beginning of this fearful war.” “Tam afraid it will—” ‘‘ Harkee, Eller, harkee!” suddenly exclaimed the scout, fi his gaze upon bis hound, . The animal had pricked up his ears, and frisking about, sniffed the air as if with alarm. ‘* What’s it mean, Alf?” “There’s something about; Sultan’s instinct is never at fault.” ‘‘ Perhaps it ‘ud be well to withdraw into the thicket.” “Wait a moment,” said the Giant Scout, and turning, he addressed a few words to his dog, which immediately bounded away into the un- dergrowth surrounding the spot. e animal was not gone a minute when. he entered the opening again on the opposite side; and immediately after his appearance the bushes were parted near where he bad debouch- ed into ap Oh atti J and a dark face red ee the shadows of the undergrowth into the clearing. “An Ojibway, by Judas!” exclaimed old Jack, a little nervously. Before either of his companions could reply, a figure came bounding from the undergrowth, where the face had appeared, and gliding across the opening, approached our three friends, It was not au Indian, but Ethiope, the Afri- ao housekeeper and companion of One-Armed Alf. ‘Oh, de good Lor’ golly salvation to ole sweet Moses, Ma’rs Alf!” the negro cried, running up and seizing his master’s hand. ‘Why, Ethiope, your coming is like one from the grave! Where have you been?’ asked the scout. ‘Lor’ only knows, Ma’rs Alf. Thought I war dead last night a hundred times; and den when I see’d de cabin all afire I says, ‘ Ethiope, Ma’rs Alf done gone dis time, suah.’ Ho, de goon Ler’ ie but I’s a happy chile, now, I Good - Ma’rs Alf, if I'd been killed by de bloody Ingings, den you'd had nobody to wash your vi and cook your clothes; no, sah!” and the negro concluded by executing a leap into the air and pred up with hand- vip be completely astonis ad old Jack and e captain. 7 Well, now tell me where you've been all this time, Ethiope?” said the scout. “Bin, Ma’rs Alf? Why golly snickers, I’se been all over de peninshoola ob Michigun, and is’ as true as I’se a born nigger, I see’d a hun- red million Ingings, and every one ob de dirty red rs chased me like eq did, But whe-wh! dis chile run so fast dat I jis’ left ebbe Inging standing chock-still. But, oh, lend Lop, rs, I nighly forgot to tell you de wu’st ob it!” ‘ T vcetad le Spirit ft’ ob de Wild rness, as suah ‘I see’d de ob de e as l’se a living nigger boy; but dat’s not de wu'st ob it, Ma ky “Well, what is the worst?” One-Armed Alf. ‘* Mackinaw has fallen.” ‘* Do you know this to be a fact?” asked One- Armed Alf, while Captain St. John groaned in | and to the ear for the approa spirit. ‘Yes, ma’rs, it am de awful, solemn troof, as | suah as dar’s a heaven,” “ How did you obtain the news?” asked Cap- tain St. John. ‘Wal, [ war a-scoutin’ around last night u north bout twenty miles, when all ter once runs kerchunk up against a white chap in de dark. De fellah war runnin’ like blazes dis way when we run togedder. Down went de fellah, and if ye blieve it, down went dis nig- ger keslap on his back. Up jumped de fellah, and den up jumped de nigger, and den hot words passed, and I war gwine to eat de fellah, when he caved in, and we shuck hands and ’pol- lygized "bout de darkness. Den he told me why he run so fast. Said Mackinaw war kep- tered, and dat he war gwine to P’int Michigan for help.” ‘* Por meet eae did he want help for?’ questioned tain St. John. ‘‘He said dat several ob de weemen and childring had ’scaped from de garrison and was flying southward thro’ de woods for safety, but de Ingings and Britishers got cn dar track, and follered dem up and obertake dem, and sur- round dem in de ole French fort. He said dey could hold out a day or two’g’in de varmints thar, and sodey seud dat man after he’p. But he war so nigh tuckered out dat he couldn’t stand still, and sodis nigger clile jist h’isted sailand cut dirt fer dis place, and here I is, and dat’s what’s de matter; and for de love's sake, fellahs, hurry up and help ’em thar poor foogitives.” ** Did the man tell you who had command of the party of fugitives?” ‘Said they hab a good guide—a friendly In- ging dat he called Malagua.” ‘‘T know Malagua, but be cannot always be trusted. But, boys, I’m off for the old French fort. Who goes with me?’ asked St. John. ‘Tm with you, St. John, till the last,” said One-Armed Alf, | ‘‘And here, too, cap’n,” added old Jack EI- ler, ‘if this nigger will run on down to the Point and let the folks know what happened here last night; and who are alive and who are | missing.” ‘* T’ll do it, old hoss, so I will,” said falobe. * All right then, cap’n; heave ahead and let’s peg it up thar ina aoa, Me time.”’ ne-Armed Alf made no reply, but, igs 2 his face northward set off at a rapid walk, fol- lowed by St. John and Eller. The negro turned and bent his steps toward Point Michigan. cely was the last one of the four lost in the depths of the woods, ere a low, quavering cry, like that of a bird, rung softly through the forest, and was immediately answered from he directions by the cries of mocking- Then forth from tbe forest shadows came a tall, painted Ojibway warrior into oe Rens where the scout’s cabim had once stood, He gave a quick, furtive glance around him, per- mitting his baleful eyes to rest a moment upon the ghastly skeletons half-protruding from the smoldering ruins, then stole softly across the glade. and plunged into the woods, directly upon the trail of One-Armed Alf and his two companions. CHAPTER XII. LOST ON THE LAKE. WE will now, for a while, change the scene of our story toward the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. The time is early morn, and the dew upon the leaves and grass deaden the footfalls of the stately buck and skulking wolf, as they start from their coverts at the approach of five men making their way westward toward the lake. Two of them were Indians and three were white men. But one of the latter was a cap- tive, for his hands were bound at his back, and he was driven forward in advance with a cocked pi at his "= oe ey were journe rapidly, yet their fa- tigued looks and butting, wrantied gait, told that they had journeyed long. | The P aeoaiyy & was a young man of noble form, though his handsome face wore a sad dejected look. His clothes were tattered and torn, and his hands and face were bruised and lacerated, and covered with blood. But, de- ite all this, we can recognize him. it. is arcy Mayfield, the young bunter of Point Michigan, whom friends su d had rished in the fiery element that pped up he cabin of One-Armed Alf, the night before. The — oo cantare were Chhne, udging from nerala nce, e dace of their nome = frien shi with the In- dians, who were Ojibways, and whose garments and faces showed signs of a recent encounter with enemies. A tear of being patenes by foes seemed to be the incentive to the great haste of the party, for now and then the ishmen glanced un- easily back over their shoulders, then ba rg their anere forward with oaths and th . The ns, however, were more careful about | ful load would have _ hearts. On the other band, had Darcy known Tis manifesting evidence of fear, and kept steadily on, trusting to the eye for d rs before them "i of dangers be- hind. Had Darcy Mayfield’s friends known that he had escaped death at the scout’s cabin, a fear- been lifted from their that his friends were alive, he would have en- tertained some hopes of escape from his cap- tors. But, as it was, he believed that he was the only one who had escaped from tbat terri- ble fire and conflict, to drag out a miserable term in English prisons, or suffer a fearful death at the stake. The party journeyed on speedily as possible, never padbtians for a moment. lave and brush were no obstacles in their way; but on, over hill and valley, they FOLEY Oo until at last the broad expanse of Michigan was unfolded to their view. Upon a bold eminence they came to a halt and swept the waters with an magia sie graare, as though they were looking for a . But not an object appeared upon the bosom of the lake. Not satisfied with this observation, one of the Englishmen, named Kruler, climbed into the top of a tall tree, from whence he could pe a broader view of the lake on all sides. After he had scanned the waters again and again, be called out to his friends below. ‘‘T say, Belden, that cruiser is not to be seen inside of twenty miles.” ‘‘That’s thundering curious,” replied Belden, ‘“‘when Pellington promised us faithfully that he would keep in sight of this point until we returned, or at least, until to-night. Perhaps some Yankee vessel has lured the Scorpion off on a chase?’ ‘“‘ It may be possible, Belden,” replied Kruler, from the tree-top, ‘‘but I see something now that looks like the sail of a little sloop or skiff, lying close inshore about half a league to the northward of us.” ‘* 'W hat’s its colors?” ‘“‘Tt flies none; however, I am inclined to think that the Scorpion has been away, and has left men and a boat to bring us off case we came around with our game. Belden glanced at D rah agg to see how Kruler’s remarks would be taken. But, if he comprehended their meaning at all, manifested no surprise whatever. He was ful- ly satisfied, from the fact of Long Run de- manding h's surrender the night before at the seout’s cabin, that his capture was made in pursuance of some deep and wicked plot, with which the war hed tthine $040, more than to afford the scheming enemy a chance to carry out their plans, Seeing that Darcy took no notice of the look- out’s remarks, Belden replied: ‘‘Then you can’t make out the sail under the shadow vi the bank, eh, Kruler?” ‘No; I can see no one aboard of it; besides, it flies no colors. It appears to have but a single sail. It’s only a small concern—just a ood-sized skiff. d, by our good king rge, 1 believe the thing is not only empty, but adrift at the will of the wind,” “lf that’s the case, and our cruiser, the Scorpion, is cone we can take that truant craft and for inaw like sin.” ‘‘[ presume that will be our best way,” re- sponded Kruler, descending from the tree-top; ‘and the sooner we are on our way, the better it will probably be for us,” A smile of disdain curled the lip of the cap- tive. He saw that the cowardly fears of the Englishmen were growing upon them, and he desired that they shou'd know the utter con- tempt he felt toward them, notwithstanding he was totally in their power. Kruler led the way down toward the lake until the shore was reached; then they turned and proceeded around toward the little sail- They soon c&Mme in sight of the craft, which was lying close against the bank; but, to their rise, they found its sail had been lowered and taken entirely away since Kruler had dis- covered it from the tree-top. Footsteps were found upon the beach that ema had turned into the forest, and so the two Ojibways were at once dispatched upon the trail of the unknown in ho the sail, for they suppcsed craft, whoever was, had gone ashore to either hunt or scout, and would not, in all pro-¢ bability, be back soon, else he would not bave unrigged his sail. The moments spent in waiting the return of the Indians were moments of extreme anxie and fear to the two Englishmen, but the red- skins finally came back and reported that the trail of the unknown could not be followed without great pains and loss of time which might result fatally to their success. | ‘** Well,” said Kruler, ‘‘ we’ll charter the craft ry apse and trust to the oars with which I see or one 0 re his blanket from his shoulders. ee “Good for you, Injin,” replied Kruler. ‘I'd of recovering owner of the Ebooks Com (E(e)