Beadle's Dime Library No. 151 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

— Tn, = The Freebooters. “Not much, I confess, but still sufficiently to present myself to him.” “oy, Wa a Stil, warn you, chief, that this man leads an extremely vagabond life, being here to-day and gone to-morrow; so that I am in great doubt as to where I should seek him.” ‘“Wah! my father need not trouble himself about that; the sachem will lead him to the camp of the Tiger-killer.” ‘In that case, very good; I will undertake the rest.” “My father must carefully retain in his heart the words of Blue-fox. The warriors must know noth- ing. When the hour arrives, the chief will tell my father what he wants of him.”’ ‘*As you please, chief.” The conversation broke off here. The warriors were awaking, and the camp, so quiet a few mo- ments previously, had now the aspect of a hive, when the bees prepare at sunrise to go in search of their daily crop. At a sign from the chief, the hachesto, or public crier, mounted a fallen tree, and twice uttered a shrill cry. At this appeal all the warriors, even those still lying on the ground, has- tened to range themselves behind the chief. A deep silence then prevailed for several minutes; all the Indians, with their arms folded on their chest, and their faces turned to the rising sun, awaited what the sachem was about to do. | The latter took a calabash full of water, which the hachesto handed him, and in which was a spray of wormwood. Then raising his voice, he sprinkled toward the four cardinal points, saying: ‘“*Wacondah, Wacondah! thou unknown and om- nipotent spirit, whose universe is the temple, Master of the life of man, protect thy children!”’ ‘* Master of the life of man, protect thy children!” the Apaches repeated in chorus, respectfully bow- ing. “Creator of the at sacred Tortoise, whose skill supports the world, keep far from us Nyong, the genius of evil! deliver our enemies to us, and give us their scalps. Wacondah! Wacondah! protect thy children! ‘“Wacondah! Wacondah! protect thy children!” the warriors repeated. The sachem then bowed to the sun, and then to- ward the contents of thecalabash, saying— ‘‘And thou, sublime star, visible representative of the omnipotent and invincible Creator, continue to ur thy vivifying heat on the hunting-grounds of hy red sons, and intercede for them with the Master of life. May this clear water I offer thee be grateful. Wacondah! Wacondah! protect thy children!” **Wacondah! Wacondah! protect thy children!” the Apaches repeated, and followed their chief’s ex- ample by knee reverently. The latter then took a medicine-rod from the hachesto, and waved it several times over his head, while shouting in a loud voice— ‘‘Nyang, spirit of evil, rebel against the Master of life; we Brace and despise thy power, for the Wa- condah protects us!” All the congregation uttered a loud yell, and rose. Then each man began attending to his daily duties. Fray Antonio had witnessed with extreme aston- ishment this sacred and affecting ceremony, whose details, however, escaped his notice, for the words uttered by the chief had been in the dialect of his nation, and consequently incomprehensible to the monk. The expiring camp-fires were rekindled, in order to prepare the morning meal, while scouts started in every direction, to assure themselves that the road was free, and no enemy on the watch. The monk, being now completely reassured, and beginning to grow accustomed to his new position, ate with good appetite the provisions offered him, and made no °o Tection to mount the horse the chief indicated to when if prepared to set out on the termina- tion of the me They rode on for several hours along tracks mark- ed by the wild beasts, forced, through the narrow- ness of the paths, to go in Indian file, that is to say, one behind the other; and although the monk per- ceived that the sachem constantly kept a di side, he did not eee = es by it, remembering the conversation the n the morning. A little Matore’ mid-day. the band halted on the bank of a small stream, shadowed by lofty trees where they intended to wait till the great heat b passed over. During the halt Blue-fox did not once address him. and the monk made no attempt to bring on a conversation, as he much preferred enjoying 4 siesta. t about four Pp. M. the band mounted, and set out again; but instead of going ata walking pace, they galloped. The Indians, by the way, only recognize these two paces. They consider trotting an absurd- ity. The ride was long» the sun had set for more than two hours, and still the Indians galloped. At length, at a signal from their chief, they halted. Blue-fox then went up to the monk, and drew him a little aside. : ** We shall separate here,”’ he said; ‘‘it would not be prudent for the Apaches to go further; my father continue his journey alone.’’ ‘“*T?” the monk said, in surprise; ‘‘ you are jesting, chief—I prefer remaining with you.”’ “That cannot be,’’ the Indian said, in a perenrp- tory voice, ‘Where the deuce would you have me go at this hour, and in this darkness?’ y © My father will look,” the chief continued, stretch- ing out his arm to the south-west; ** does he see that reddish light scarce rising above the horizon“ Fray Antonio looked a tentively in the directioh indicated. “ be he said, apart a “T do see it.” 4 “*Very good; that flame produced by a camp- of the pale-faces.”’ PE Oh. oh! are you sure of that?” ““Yes; but my oto —_ listen; the pale-faces will receive my father kindly.” “2 Seioretands then I will tell Tranquil that his aes Rae faery to speak with him, point w 8 — “The toa is a chattering and brainléss bird, which gabbles like an old squaw,”’ the chief roughly ehh: ; “my father will say nothing. **Oh!"* the monk said, in confusion. “My father will be careful to do what I order him, if he does not wish his scalp to dry on the Jance of a chief.” Fray Antonio shuddered at this menace. ‘*T swear it, chief,’’ he said. ‘A man does not swear,” the chief remarked, brutally; ‘“‘he says yes or no. When my father reaches the camp of the pale-faces he will not allude to the Apaches; but when the pale hunters are asleep, my father will leave the camp and come to warn Blue-fox.”” ‘*But where shall I find you?’ the monk asked, piteously, beginning to see that he was destined to act as the spy of the savages in one of their diabol- ical machinations, “My father need not trouble himself about that, for I shall manage to find him.”’ e Very g00 Mi : “If my father is faithful, Blue-fox will give him a buffalo-skin full of gold dust; if not, he must not hope to esca the chief; the Apaches are crafty, the scalp of a chief of prayer will adorn the lance of a chief; I have spoken.” ‘* You have no further orders to give me?” ‘** Good-by, then.”’ ‘Till we meet again,” the Apache said, with a n. Fray Antonio made no reply, but uttered a deep sigh, and pushed on in the direction of the camp. Twice or thrice the idea of flight crossed his mind, but whither could he go? and then it was probable that the Indians placed but slight confidence in him, and carefully watched him in the gloom. At length the camp aupeerye before the monk's startled eyes; as he could not draw back, for the hunters had doubtless perceived him already, he decided on pushing forward, while desperately mut- tering: ‘‘Thne Lord have mercy upon me!”’ CHAPTER M1. DOWN THE PRECIPICE. We have several times visited the narrow defile where Border Rifles and the Mexicans fought the action we described in Dime Library 149—The Border Rifles. Bending over the precipice, with our eyes fixed on the yawning abyss beneath us, we heard the narrative of the strange incidents of that battle of giants, and if we had not been certain of the veracity of the narrator, we should certainly have not only doubted, but completely denied the possibility of certain facts, which are, however, rigorously true, and which we are now about to impart to the reader. The Border Rifles saw with a shriek of horror the two men, intertwined like serpents, roll together over the precipice; the flashes of the fire, which was beginning to die out for want of nourishment, after devastating the crests of the hills, threw at intervals a lurid light over this scene, and gave it a striking ct. The first moment of stupor past, John Davis, mas- pei | with diffileulty the emotion that agitated him, sought to restore courage, if not ty to all these men who were crushed by the terrible catastrophe. John Davis enjoyed, and justly so,a great reputa- tion among the Borderers. All know the close friendship which attached_the Americans to their chief; in several serious affairs he had displayed a coolness and intelligence which gained him the re- spect and admiration of these men; hence they im- mediately responded to his appeal, by grouping si- lently round him, for they understood intuitively that there was only one man among them worthy of succeed.ng the Jaguar, and that he was the North American. . John Davis had guessed the feelings that agitated them, but did not allow it to be seen; his face was pale, his appearance sad; he bent a thoughtful granpe on the rude, determined men who, leaning on their rifles, gazed at him mournfully, and seemed already tacitly to recognize the authority with which he was, probably, about to invest himself. xpectations were deceived, at least, tem- Their e porarily. Davis, at this moment, had no intention of making the Borderers elect him as their chief; the fate of his friend entirely absorbed him, and all other considerations disap in the presence of the one idea, ‘*Caballeros,"’ he said, in a melancholy tone, “a terrible misfortune has struck us. Under such cir- cumstances, we must summon up all our courage and resignation, for women weep, but men revenge themselves. The death of the Jaguar is not only an immense loss to ourselves, but also for the cause we have sworn to defend, and to which he has already given such great proof of devotion. But, before be- wailing our chief, so worthy in every respect of the sorrow which we shall feel for him, we have one duty to accomplish—a duty which, if we neglect it, will cause us piercing remorse at a later date.”’ “Speak, speak, John Davis, we are ready to do anything you order us,’’ the Borderers exclaimed unanimously, **I thank you,” the American continued, ‘‘ for the enthusiasm with which you have replied to me; I cannot believe that an intellect so vast, a heart so noble, as that of our beloved chief can be thus de- stroyed. Gop, I feel convinced, would not thus have broken a cause for which we have so long been struggling with such devotion and _ self-denial, Heaven will have performed a miracle in favor of our chief, and we shall see him re-appear among us safe and sound! But whatsoever may bappen, should this last hope be denied us, at any rate, we must not abandon like cowards, without attemptin to save him, the man who twenty times braved deat for each of us. For my part, I swear by all that is -most sacred in the world, that I will not leave this spot till I have assured myself whether the Jaguar be dead or alive.’ At these words a buzz of assent ran along his hearers, and John Davis continued: ‘‘ Who knows whetber our unhappy chief is not lying crushed, but still breathing, at the foot of this accursed abyss a reproaching us for our cowardly desertion o m?’’ The Border Rifles declared, with the most energetic ones that they would find their chief again, dead or alive. “* Good, my friends,"’ the American exclaimed; ‘if he be pily d we will place his body in the ground and protect rem , 80 dear to us on many accounts, from the insults of wild beasts; but I repeat to you, one of those presentiments which ’ -which he had hitherto never deceive, because they come from Gob, tells me that he is still alive.” ‘*May Heaven hear you, John Davis,” the Border- ers shouted, “‘ and restore us our chief.” ‘*T am going to descend the precipice,’’ the Ameri- can said; “I will inspect its most secret recesses, and before sunrise we shall know what we have to a or fear.” his proposal of John Davis's was greeted as it de- served, by enthusiastic shouts. When the excitement of the hearers had i a calmed, the American prepared to carry out his design. ‘**Permit me a remark,” said an old wood-ranger. **Speak, Ruperto, what is it?’ Davis answe ‘“*T have known the spot where we now are for @ long time, and have often hunted here.” ‘**Come to facts, my friend.” “You can act as you please, John Davis, on the in- formation I am about to give you; by turning to the right, after marching for about three miles, you get round the hills, and what appears to us from here a precipice, is, in fact, only a plain, very inclosed, L allow, but easy to traverse on horseback.”’ “Ah, ah,” John said thoughtfully, “‘and what do you conclude from that, Ruperto?”’ ‘That it would be, perhaps, better to mount and skirt the hills.” t-te “Yes, yes, thatis a good idea, and we will take ad- vantage of it; take twenty men with you, Ruperto, and proceed at full speed to the plain that you al- lude to, for we must not throw away any chance; the rest of the band will remain here to watch the environs, while I effect the descent of the barranca.”* ‘** You still adhere to your idea, then?” ** More than ever.”’ ** As you please, John Davis, though you risk your bones on such a night as this.”’ “I trust in Heaven, andI hope it will protect me.”* ‘*T hope so too for your sake; but I must be off— here's luck.”’ . ‘Thanks, the same to you.” " Red Ruperto then went off, followed by twenty yy, Borderers, who spontaneously offered to accompany ware, him, and soon disappeared in the darkness. The de- Pa scent John Davis was preparing to make was any- thing but easy. The American was too experienced a wood-ranger not to know, and hence took all a proper precautions. He placed in his belt next his a nife a wide and strong ax, and fastened round his ge] waist a rope formed of several reufas. Three men seized the end of the rope, which they turned round a the stem of a tree, so as to let it out without a shock, » pin whenever the American desired it. As a final pre-— a8 caution he Jit a bunch of ocote wood, which was to serve as his guide du his perilous descent, His = = | last measures taken with the coolness that distin- es, guishes men of his race, the North Americanpressed = the hands held out to him, tried once again to re- oar’ store hope to his comrades by a few hearty words, ‘2 and kneeling on the brink of the abyss, began slow- a ly descending. John Davis was a man of tried courage, his life had been one continual struggle, in « which he had only triumphed through his ee of will and energy; still, when he began de E into the barranca, he felt chilled to the heart, could not repress a slight start of terror, which ran - over all his limbs like an electric flash. opt Although he was fastened round the waist,it was no easy task to go down this almost ndicular ; wall, to which he was com ed to cling like a 2 ~yPas tile, clutching at every tuft of grass or shrub he Beg came across, or else he had been carried at a the wind, which blew furiously,-and would have “Xa ee him like a nutshell against the sides of the yee ia a SS. =f tt e first minutes were the most terrible to the es bold adventurer; the feet and hands must grow se accustomed to the rude task imposed on them, and kegs they only gradually learn to find, as it were in- et stinctively, their resting-places. a John Davis had hardly gone ten yards down, ere —S. he found himself on a wide ledge covered with thick Bere shrubs; hitherto the descent had been extremely _ ’ rapid. hting himself by the torch, the American traversed in every direction this speciesofesplan- ade, which was about a dozen paces in circumfer- La Seas ence; and, op carefully examining the thick shrubs - ate which covered it, the adventurer perceived that the - tae tops had been broken, as if they had received atre- mendous blow. > Sia Davis looked around him. He soon concluded that — A this enormous gap could only have been reagent A nae the fall of two odieen this remark gave him go ire’ hope, for at so slight a distance from the mouth of the abyss, the two enemies must have been full of life; the rapidity of their fall must have naturally been arrested by the shrubs; they might have met at various distances similar obstacles, and con- sequently have undergone several comparatively harmless falls. a John Davis continued his descent; the slope anes became constantly less abrupt, and the adventurer _ - met with in his passage, not mierely shrubs, but a — of trees, grouped here and there. still, aa. John Davis found no further traces, a fear fell upon ee him, and painfully contracted his heart; he was ri aw afraid lest the shrubs, through their elasticity, = == — might have hurled the two ety ee into e, ‘Te instead of letting them follow the slope of the jan precipice. This thought so powerfully occupied the yw American’s mind, that a deep uragement {2a seized npon him, and for some moments he re- ee sawned waar strength or will,crouching sadlyon © — e ground. ‘I must go on,” he said, in a firm voice. But,at the moment, he gave a start of surprise,and uttered = a cry as he rushed qui toward a black mass,to | d but slight attention. . i John Davis, by the light of his torch, had just dis- covered a few yards from him, and almost on a level ie with the spot where he was standing, an eagle’s nest, isa th built on the top of an immense tree, whosetrumkde- scended for a considerable ewe in the precipice. ) > ee Two human bodies were lying stretched across Meee this nest, and the American only required one glance ge to assure himself that they were those of the Jaguar > ae and the Mexican captain. They w: ectly mo- Ker, tionless, and still fast locked in *s arms. ee It was not at all an easy ove nest, which was nearly ten Ri from the sides of ~ the precipice; but John Davis did not give in ares s account; now that he had found the his (ee chief &gain, he was determined to learn, atall risks, = whether he were alive or dead. But what meanmg = SES le .00kKS.com * ie é (GE <€om