Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 20 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

*“*Red Cedar’s horse was tied up here,” Valentine said. ‘‘ Attention! we are about tocatch the bear in his den. You know with whatsort of men we have to deal; be dent: if not, there will soon be broken ones and punctured skins among us.”’ Without adding a word farther, the hunt- er again took the head of the file. He care- fully parted the bushes, and unhesitatingly entered the thicket. At this moment the furious barking of a dog could be heard. Hilloh!” a rough voice shouted; ‘*what’s the matter, Black? Did not the red- skins have a sufficient lesson last night, that they want to try it again ?”’ These words were followed by the grating sound of a rifle being cocked. Walentine made his comrades a sign to stop, and bold- ly advanced. “They are not Indians,’’ he said, in a loud and firm voice: ‘‘it is I, Koutonepi, an old acquaintance, who wishes to have a chat with you.”’ ““T have nothing to say to you,’’ Red Cedar, still invisible, answered: ‘‘I know not why you have followed me to this place’ we nev- er were such good friends, I fancy, that you should desire the pleasure of my company.”’ ‘“‘That’s true,’’ the hunter remarked: ‘vou may be fully assured that we were al- ways very bad friends: but no matter; all off your dog.”’ *‘If your intentions are good, and you are alone, you can advance, and will be received as a friend.”’ — he whistled to his dog, which rejoined m. ‘As regards my intentions, I can assure you that they are good,”’ the Trail-Hunter — ? as he drew back the branches, e suddenly found himself in front of Red Cedar, who was standing, rifle in hand, in the narrow entrance of a grotto. The two men were scarce fifteen yards apart, examining each other suspiciously. This is, however, the custom of the prai- ries, where all meetings are the same: dis- trust always holds the first place. ““Stop,”’ the squatter shouted. ‘For what we have to say to each other, we need not be earto ear. What do we care if the birds and serpents hear our conversation ? Come, speak! what have you come here for? Empty your wallet, and make haste about it ; for I have no time to listen to your ‘*Hum !”’ the other answered ; “‘ my stories are as good as yeurs, and perhaps you would have done better by spending your time in listening to them, rather than acting as you have done,”’ ‘*What do you mean?” Red Cedar said, as he struck the ground with the butt of his rifle: ‘*‘ Youknow I am not fond of sermons. I am @ free hunter, and act as I think prop- er. ‘* Come, come,’’ the huntsman went on in a conciliatory tone, while drawing nearer; “do not take up that tone: all may be ar- ranged. Hang it, what is the question, if we come to that? only about a woman you have carried off |” The bandit listened to Valentine without attaching much importance to his remarks. For some instants his attentive ear appeared to be catching vague sounds; his eye sounded the depths of the woods; his nostrils dilat- ed; and all the instincts of the wild beast were revealed. A presentiment told him that he was incurring some unknown dan- r. ron his side, the hunter watched the slight- est movements of his adversary: not one of the changes on his face escaped him, and nen = apparently unmoved, he kept on his uard, arr Traitor!’ the squatter suddenly shouted, as he raised his rifle to his shoulder; ‘“* you shall die !’’ “What a fellow you are!’’ Valentine re- torted, as he dodged behind atree. ‘* Not yet, if you please.”’ ‘Surrender, Red Cedar!’? Don Miguel shouted, as he appeared, followed by the stranger and Curumilla: ‘‘ surrender!’ ““What do yousay? Isurrender! First try and force meto doso. Iswear that I will kill you first,’’ the bandit answered, with a terrible accent: ‘‘{ hold — life in my hands. Are you aware of that?” ““Come,”’ Valentine retorted, “don’t be 80 rough! there are four of us, and I sup- pose you do not intend to kill us all.” ‘* For the last time, will you retire?” the bandit said, with a furious gesture. ‘“Come, come,’’ Bloodson shouted in a loud sce: do not attempt any useless re- sistance. d Cedar, your hour has arrived,” At the sound of this voice, the bandit’s face was suddenly covered by a livid pallor, and a convulsive tremor passed over his limbs. / ‘*Look out, he is going to fire!’ Valen- tine shouted. Two shots were fired so closely together, that they sounded aa one, The Bandit at Bay. The squatter’s gun, shattered in his hands, fell to the ground. ’ Valentine, who wished to capture the bandit alive, vould only hit on this way of turning the bullet, which, in fact, whistled harmlessly past his ear. “ Malediction !’’ the scalp-hunter yelled, as he rushed madly into the grotto, closely followed by his enemies, with tbe exception of Curwmilla. There they found him armed with his pistols, like a boar tracked to its lair. The bandit struggled with all the frenzy of despair, not yet giving up the hope of escape. His dog, standing by his side, with open jaws, only awaited a signal from its master to rush on his assailants. The squatter suddenly tired four shots, but too hurriedly to wound anybody. He then hurled the useless weapons at his foe- men’s heads, and bounding like a panther, disappeared at the end of the grotto, shout- ing with a sinister grin: ‘Tam not caught yet!” During all the incidents of this scene, the bandit had preserved his coolness; calculat- ing the chances of safety left him, so that he might profit by taem immediately. While occupying his enemies, he remembered that the grotto had a second outlet. Suddenly he stopped, uttering a ghastly oath: he had forgotten that the swollen Gila at the moment inundated this issue. The villain walked several times round the grotto with the impotent rage of a wild beast that has fallen into a trap. He heard, in the windings of the cavern, the footsteps of his pursuers drawing closer. The sands were counted for him. One minute later, and he was lost. ‘**Malediction!’’ he said, ‘‘all fails me at once.”’ He must escape at all*risks, and try to reach his horse, which was fastened up a short distance off on a small islet of sand, which the water, continually rising, threat- ened soon to cover. The bandit took a parting look round, bounded forward, and plunged into the abyss of waters, which closed over him. Valentine and his comrades almost imme- diately appeared, bearing torches; but the bandit had wholly disappeared. All was silent in the grotto. ** The villain has committed suicide,’”’ the haciendero said. The hunter shook his head. ‘**T doubt it,”’ he said. ‘“‘ Listen !’’ the stranger hurriedly spoke. A shot echoed through the cave, and the three men rushed forward. Instead of following his comrades, the Indian chief, certain that the bandit had not been such a fool as to enter a vave without an outlet, preferred watching the banks of the river, in case Red Cedar tried to escape in that way. The chief’s previsions were correct. Red Cedar, as we have seen, attempted to fly by the second outlet of the grotto. After swimming for some distance, the squatter landed on a small islet, and almost immediately disappeared in a dense clump of trees. > Not one of his movements had escaped Curumilla, who was hidden behind a project- ing, rock, ed Cedar reappeared on horseback. The Indian chief took a careful aim at him, and at the moment the animal put its hoof in the water it fell back, dragging down its rider with it. Curumilla had put a bullet through the horse’s skull. Red Cedar rose with the rapidity of light- ning, and dashed into the water. The hunters booked at each other for a moment in disappointment. ‘* Bah!’ Valentine said, philosophically. “That bandit is ‘not to be feared now; we have clipped his nails.’’ ‘That is true,”’ said Bloodson; ‘ but they will grow again. CHAPTER V. THE GROTTO. WE will now resume our narrative at the point where we left it at the end of our first chapter, and rejoin Red Cedar, who, thanks to the weapons found in the cache, had re- — all his ferocity and was already reaming of revenge. | The bandit’s position, however, was still very perplexing, and would have territied any man whose mind was not so strong as his own. | However large the desert may be—how- ever perfect a man’s knowledge may be of the prairie refuges—it is impossible for him, if alone, to escape for any length of time the search of persous who have an interest in catching him. This had just been proved to Red Cedar in &@ peremptory way: he did not conceal from a himself the numberless difficulties that sur- rounded him, and could not dream of re- gaining his encampment. The enemies on his track would not fail to catch him, and this time they would not allow him to escape so easily. This position was intolerable, and it must be put an end to at all risks. But Red Cedar was not the man to remain crushed by the blow that had struck him; he drew himself together again, in order to prepare his vengeance promptly. Like all evil na- tures, Red Cedar regarded as an insult all attempts persons made to escape from his perfidy. At this moment he had a rude™ account to settle with whites and red-skins. Alone as he was, he could not think of re- joining his comrades and attacking the ene- mies, who would have crushed him under their heel like a venomous serpent: he needed allies. His hesitation was but short, and his plan was formed in a few minutes. He resolved to carry out the project for which he had left his comrades, and pro- ceeded toward an Apache village, situated a short distance off. Still, he did not intend to go there, for the present at least, for, after a rapid walk of more than three hours, he suddenly turned to his right, and retiring from the banks of the Gila, which he had hitherto followed, he left the road to the yillage, and entered a mountainous region, differing entirely in its character from the plains he had hitherto traversed. The ground rose perceptibly, and was in- tersected by streams that ran down to the Gila. Clumps of the ferns, drawing closer together, served as the advanced guard of a loomy virgin forest on the horizon. The andscape gradually assumed a more savage and abrupt aspect, and spurs of the impos- ing Sierra Madre displayed here and there their desolate peaks. Red Cedar walked along with that light and springy step peculiar to men accustomed to cover long distances on foot, looking neither to the right nor left, and apparently following a direction he was perfectly ac- quainted with. Smiling at his thoughts, he did not seem to notice that the sun had al- most entirely disappeared behind the impos- ing mass of the virgin forest, and that night wes falling with extreme rapidity. The howling of the wild beasts could be heard echoing in the depths of the ravines, mingled with the barking of the prairie wolves—bands of which were already prowl- ing at a short distance from the bandit. ut he, apparently insensible to all these hints about getting a resting-place for the night, continued his advance in the mount- ains, among which he had entered some time previously. On reaching a species of cross-road, if sich aterm can be employed in speaking of a country where no roads exist, + stopped and looked around him. After a few moments’ hesitation, he buried himself in a narrow path ronning between two hills, and boldly climbed up a very steep ascent. At length, after a fatiguing climb, that lasted nearly three-quarters of an hour, he reached a spot where the path, suddenly interrupted, only presented a gulf, in the bottom of which the murmurs of invisible waters could be just heard. The precipice was about twenty yards in width, and over it lay an enormous log, serving as a bridge. At the end of this was the entrance of a natural grotto, in which the flames of a fire flashed up at intervals. Red Cedar stopped—a smile of satisfaction curled his thin lips at the sight of the flames reflected on the walls of the grotto. *‘ They are there,”’ he said, in a low voice, and as if speaking to himself. He then put his fingers in his mouth, and imitated with rare skill the soft and cadenced note of the maukawis. | An instant after, a similar cry was heard from the grotto. , Red Cedar clapped his hands thrice. The gigantic shadow of a man, reflected by the pnt of the fire, appeared in the en- trance of the grotto, anda rude and powerful voice shouted in the purest Castilian : ‘** Who goes there ?”’ - **A friend,’’ the bandit answered. “Your name,’’ the stranger continued ; **there are no friends in the desert at this hour of the night.”’ “Oh, oh!’ Red Cedar continued, burst- ing into a hoarse laugh, ‘“‘I see that Don Pedro Sandoval is as prudent as ever.”’ ‘‘Man or demon, as you know meso well,” the stranger said, in a somewhat softer tone, “tell me what your name is, I say once in, or, by heavens Se e a couple of slugs in your skull. So donot let me run the risk of killing a friend.” ‘Come, come, calm yourself; did you not recoyuize my voice, and have you se Comic