Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 183 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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Guide borrowed Helen’s scarf, with which he muffled the eyes of the prisoner. ‘‘He must not see where we are taking him,” he explained. When he was blindfolded, they took him up again, and kept ondown the defile. The descent soon became precipitous, and it was with the utmost difficulty that Helen followed them. All | at once the Guide turned aside, and stepping upon a high shelf of rock, dragged bis prisoner after him, and then, putting aside some tangled vines, he showed a round dark opening in the rocks, just large enough for a man to enter, stooping. Into this opening they bundled the prisoner, and bidding Helen follow and keep close to them, went on down the dark long pas- sage, seemingly into the bowels of the moun- tain, while Helen, trembling in every limb, more from exhaustion than from fear, followed close behind the two in the darkness, guided | only by their footsteps, for she could no longer see them. . ‘“*Halt!” said the Guide, and they laid the prisoner down. Then the click of flint and steel was heard; bright sparks scintillated in the darkness, and for a moment made visible the arched walls of the subterranean palace in which they stood. Soon a light gleamed; the dry leaves had kindled, and a little flame leaped oe He heaped on small twigs and fed the fire en, taking some fat pine-knots from acrevice, he lighted two of them and put them up in the walls, where they threw a lurid lighf upon the scene, A glorious scene it was, full of wonder- ful beauty. shapes in the cold, gray stones, of cclumns and towers, and forms resembling statuary. Helen held her breath in wonder asshe-looked about the grand old room, and saw how prolific | least | i j | \ Gilbert, the Guide. Jess and alone, without a ame in his sky to betray the coming of a brighter morning, at could hope to see others b and he vowed in his heart to do all he could to bring these two together, who had suffered so much for each other in these terrible days. There had been no sign of the enemy since the coming of Clinton. Gilbert had an idea that Gandelion might have had something to do with the withdrawal of the Indians, who had been threatening the post for some time before. ‘*Gilbert, dear,” whispered Pat O’Driscoll, who had smuggled himself into the command in a way only known to himself. ‘‘ D’ye think the rid divils w’u’d be pitchin’ intil us soon?” “Keep your tongue between your teeth, Handy Pat,” said Gilbert. ‘'id like to know how you got here, anyhow?” **D’ye see that?’ roared Pat, thrusting out a ponderous brogan. ‘“ D’ye mind that bitava | fut? ITvo got the mate til that, and a fine pair ee ee they'd be til walk an the wather. Whoo! Whillaloo! Murther! Id like to see the man, big or little, great or small, that w’u’d take it an himself to dhrive me back!” ‘* Oh, I suppose you must go, but if you have any regard for your scalp and would like to keep it on your head, give your tongue a bholi- day and don’t exercise your brogue too much, That’s all I’ve got to say.” ‘* Maybe it’s fightin’ wid me ye w’u’d be af- ther?” said Pat. ‘‘ Och, thin, but it’s meself is always agraable to that same. So pick outa Na ure had worked fantastic | bit av a kippin’ off the road, and come at me wunst.” ‘ What’s a kippin?’ demanded Clinton, with alight laugh. ‘‘A kippin? Sure an’ that’sa bit av a stick, the wonder-worker had b:en of his labor in | like this now, phat yesee in me hand. Glory this strange place. Gilbert caught the expres- | till the man that t’ached an Irishman how to ree of pleased surprise on her face, and smiled | handle a shillalah, for it’s his natheral weepon. ‘Yes, yes, little girl; works of man compared to these? What can man do to imitate this natural architecture— this wonderful Lage clouded canopy above us? Nothing. hen I stand in such a lace as this I feel my simple faith strengthened n the wisdom of the Great Creator. You won- der that I, a rough forest-man, a killer of In- dians, a hired guide and spy, should speak in these terms, but I tell you that I was not always thus. Time was when Gilbert— Ha! I had nearly forgotten myself then, and spoken a name long since under ban, though I have never disgraced it, nor ever shall.” *“Can I say nothing to comfort you, sir? I feel that I am speaking toa man of many sor- rows, but still it must be something to sustain ou to know that through all you have never orgotten God.” ‘‘] thank Him for that. Say no more of me or my sad fate, but let me go on my way alone. I have decided to leave you here, and to go back to the fort and bring aid. Iam satisfied that the force of outlying men is not so great but that fifty well-armed men can safely pass from one fort to another, and if you do not fear to stay here alone—” ‘*“I have faced greater dangers than that,” replied the girl. ‘* You may trust me.” There is plenty of jerked venison in that re- cess, and when you need drink you will find a cool spring at the south end of the cave. Do not go far out of this room, for there are man pits yonder to which that into which you fell this morning would be but a plaything. Here you must stay and guard the prisoner, knowing that nothing can harm you. Good-by. Owasco, come. CHAPTER XII. THE RELIEF GUARD. Two days after they left Helen in the cave at the side of the stream, there marched out of the camp of Wayne fifty brave foresters with Clin- ton Waterman and John Mack at their head, and Owasco and Gilbert scouting in front. A strong-limbed, hardy, danger-daring race, such as bad sprung up in the new world—men who loved to march and toil, who took it as their birthright, and did gallant deeds for glory’s sake. Few of their names live except in old songs, and the almost forgotten legends of their day. Yet, that these men lived and toiled, endured privation and faced danger with un- swerving zeal, the great States they built up remain to prove. They marched on foot, for if they had taken to the river they must have had a bard and difficult pull up the rapids, and it was thought better to march by land. They left the river on their left and turned their faces to the north- west, to cross the stretch of country contained in the bend of the river. ; The countenance of Clinton shone with en- thusiasm, and a high and holy purpose. Since | aise the ' | ~t I’m going to bate the he’d av the man wid the what are the puny | big mouth, who calls himself Gilbert the Guide.” ** Nonsense,” said Gilbert. quarrel with you, for I rather like you must keep more quiet. Put stick, my lad; I warn you.” Pat was advancing upon Gilbert with this shillalah in his band, and a grin ominous of mischief upon his face. Gilbert wheeled sud- denly, and as the Irishman made a leap at him, he shot out his long arm with lightning-like swiftness and caught him by the throat and wrist, wrenched the stick from his grasp, then shook him as a terrier shakes arat. So suddenly was it done that Pat had no time to think before he found himself powerless in the iron grasp of the Guide. ‘** Let up,” said Pat; ‘‘ I’m bate.” ‘*Do you promise to behave yourself?” “ Yis; to you!” “All right; having learned this lesson, I will make a scout of you yet. You will load your rifle and stay by Owasco and myself, for I know you do not fear danger.” ‘* The divil a bit!” said Pat. From this hour, during their many dangers, these two men were constant friends. The re- spect which the Guide had impressed the Irish- man with ve wonderful strength and agility, never left him through life, and Pat bad no desire to feel bimself in that iron gripe again. At night they camped in the deep woods be- side a spring which bubbled up aimong the leaves. One of the men, in a jocose spirit, led the Irishman to take a drink, and he complied, but he instantly leaped to his feet, with a hor- ified expression on his face, holding his tongue in his hand and glaring at the man who had led him to drink, in an angry way. Then he began **T don’t mean to ‘ou. But, own that to spit like one troubled with a phlegm in his throat, and to look about for a stick. ‘“‘Now thin, misther, ’m thinkin’ ye w'u’'d call that a nice thrick. Look ye; ye'll be after puttin’ some comether on the wather. Phat did ye put intil it?” ‘** Not a thing,” said the man. “Don’t thry to pull wool over the eyes of Handy Pat O’Driscoll!” roared the Irishman, in great ire. ‘It’s a pole-cat ye put intil it, I does be thinkin’. Now I kin bate the hid av any man that done that dirty thrick.” ‘Let him alone, Pat,” said Gilbert, who was laughing heartily. ‘‘ The man didn’t touch the water atall. It’s only a ‘ medicine spring.’” “A phat?” ‘“‘A medicine spring; at least that is what the Indians call it.” “Sure then it’s poisoned! Ochone, ochone! Here am I, Handy Pat O'Driscoll, cut off in the flower av me youth by a dirty trick, poisoned, begorra, by a rid.bla’g’ard av an Injin. Aroo! Oh, and was it for this me mither said til me, Pat, acushla, mevourneen delish, go til the divil;’ an’ so I wint. Give me something to ain, for I’m stone-dead and kilt en- the day when Gilbert and Owasco had come | tirely wid it.” into the fort, bringing the news that Helen was Safe, he had been a new man, and had given Tayne no peace until they were on the march. ilbert saw the exaltation upon that young Aace, and smiled as he went on over the tangled th. He had done some good then. If his own ate must be a bard one; if he must go on, hope- ¥ Pshaw; there is nothing the matter with the water,” said Gilbert. “We all drink it, and find it excellent for the health. I take it that there is a good deal of sulphur in its com- position.” “Say that ag’in!” cried Pat. ‘Och, the howly saints be good to us, but did ye iver hear SL ES [oN aenmnnnnnmnnnne eee reece sss sss 13 such jaw-breaking wurruds as thim? D’ye mane that I must die in about tin minnits?” There was a gourd Pte by the spring, and Gilbert took it up and filled it with the bright water, and drank it off with apparent relish, and then gave the gourd to Clinton. ‘* Drink without fear,” he said. ‘‘If a man never takes nothing into his mouth which is any worse than that, then I say he will live long.” ‘““Why do we halt?’ said the young man, eagerly. ‘“‘Il am on thorns every moment we remain bere.” ‘*The men need go no further. After we get a bit to eat, you and I, with Owasco and Hand Pat, will go to the cave and find the little girl, and bring her here. I don’t like going there with too much of a crowd, for Gandelion may be around, and he’d like a shy at John Mack; they’ve met before.” ‘Then yor. know Gandelion?” ‘Why not Few men in the Indian country can claim to be unknown to me. Our people are not so widely spread that men of note hke the one calling himself Gandelion can be strangers toa man in my profession. I know him well, and although he is an enemy, I esteem him —_— Brave even to desperation, generous to a fault, he can bea subtle and vigi- lant enemy or a keen friend. I saw him, at Harman’s defeat, shoot with his own band an Indian who was murdering a wounded man of Purdy’s regiment, although a score of savages stood near and he was almost alone. You can trust Gandelion in an emergency.” ** You speak highly of him.” ** And he deserves it at - bands. Now go and get something to eat, and be r ady to march in half an hour. Owasco is already prepared, and I will speak to the Irishman myself,’ ‘* Why do you take Pat?’ ‘** Because I see in him the making of a capital scout, if rightly used. He is sharp-eyed, light- footed and brave asa lion, and with my train- ing, he will be second to none in the particular line for which I design him.” They separated, and Clinton Waterman pre- a simple meal and sat down to eat, while the Guide walked over to the fire where Pat was sitting, devouring venison as if his life de- pended upon the amount consumed within a stated time. He grinned widely as Gilbert came up and deposited another piece of venison on the glowing coals. ‘*T intend to make you an offer,” the Guide said, “‘and it remains with you to accept it or not, as you choose. Owasco and I] have been talking, and we have decided upon taking you as a cumpanion and teaching you the duties of a scout and guide, if you on your part will romise to obey us implicitly for a year, when Sos threatens.” “Deed an’ Id be willing to obey the Jikes av you, Gilbert,” said Pat, plaintively. ‘‘ But the red naygur; Im afeard it w’u’d go ag’inst me conscience to obey him. Not but that he’s a dacent lad, and I like him mighty well, but w’u’d I like to be undher bim, I dunno,” ‘*You must decide for yourself. One of the great requisites of a scout is implicit obedience to his superiors, and unless you can agree to this, the sooner we part the better. At the same time the advice of Owasco will always come through me, so that in reality you have only me to obey.” Pat bit another mouthful out of the venison in a reflective way, looking keenly at his white friend. , ** [Pll do it, thin; ye may count upon Pat O’Driscoll, and whin you say come, I'll come ; and whin ye say go, ll go. It’s a barg’in.” *““Very good. You will go out with us to- night to the cave in which we left Helen Car- lyon and bring her into camp, and as this will be your trial trip, you must be upon your good behavior.” Just at dusk the four left the camp, threading in single file the recesses of the forest, the In- dian leading, Pat second, Waterman in the cen- ter, while the Guide brought up the rear. They were heavily armed, for there could be no way of telling what might happen, in a country in- fested as this was with hostile savages, who might be lurking in every covert. The path they followed was rough and stony, and brought them, after a toilsome march, to the gate of the cavern, where the Guide halted, and signaled to his companions to do the same. ‘Don’t let us scare the little girl by coming upon her too sudden,” said he. ‘* I'll go in first, and prepare her for your visit.” He crawled into the opening and was lost to view, going down into the bowels of the earth. They waited in breathless expectation, in sol- emn silence, for his signal to come on, the In- dian leaning against a rock like a statue carved in bronze, while the [rishman sat down on a stone. Then they heard bis signal, muffled strangely, coming ey out of the dim depths. Owasco rose and led the way into the dark and solemn place, followed by his eager companions. They would have rushed on, heedless of danger, but his voice restrained them, until they saw far away the glimmer of a distant light. ‘There he is!” cried Waterman, eagerly. ‘Hurry on, chief; have you no regard for my irapatience?” JOO im S (E@) (S, (E(0)