Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 218 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

noitering the intervenin CHAPTER XXV. AN UNPRAIRIE-LIKE APPARITION. Tux incident referred to occurred high up the Ar- | kansas, at the celebrated grove known as the Big ‘Timbers. We had started about two hours before sundown, and were riding in a due westerly direction over a rolling prairie, the ridges of which, as ill-luck would have it, ran transversely to our course, causing the | path to be constantly going upward and downward. | t was not this that troubled us, but the fact that as we crested each swell we were freshly exposed to observation from a distance; and this recurring so often, kept us continually on the alert. Once or twice we thought of halting again till after the sun had gone down, for we knew that we were treading upon dangerous ground; but failing to per- ceive any fresh Indian sign, we gave way to our irresolution and continued on. We proceeded with caution, however, always as- cending in stealthy silence, and peering carefully over the ridges before crossing them, After recon- valleys, we would ride rap- idly across to make up the time we had lost in our reconnoissance. In this way we had traveled some eight or ten miles, until the sun was so far down that his lower limb touched the horizon. We were ascending a ridge, and had got ue eyes on a level with its crest, when upon the face of another ridge, about half a mile further on, we beheld two forms outlined against the declivity. e saw that they were human forms, and that they were Indians was our first thought; but a mo- ment’s observation convinced us we were in error. They were afoot; Indians would have been on horseback. There was no floating drapery about their bodies—Indians would have had something of this sort; besides there were other circumstances observable in their figures and movements that nega- tived the supposition of their being red-skins. They were singularly disproportioned in size, one appear- ing at least a foot the taller, while the shorter man had twice this advantage in girth! ** What, in Old Nick's name, kin they be?” inquired my comp .nion, though only in soliloquy, for he saw that I was as much puzzled as himself, ‘Kin ye make ’em out wi’ your glass, cap’p?” I chanced to have a s ket-telescope. Adopting the suggestion, I drew it forth and leveled it. another instant I had within its field of vision a tableau that astonished me. The figures composing it were but two—a very tall man and a very short one. Both were dressed in round-about jackets and trowsers. One, the shorter, had a little dark cap upon his head, while the hight The Wild Huntress. ae me ee track of the wheelbarrow, where it had pressed down the grass, alone indicated their recent pres- ence upon the spot—as it did also the direction they had taken. Their retreating from us was easily accounted for; they could have seen only the tops of our heads, and had no doubt taken us for indians! CHAPTER XXVI. A FOOT OF THIRT&EN INCHES. a I ** Right. comrade!—that appears to be the way” they’ve done it. S:re enough there is the direc- tion they have taken.” ‘*Well! ef I wa’n'’t bothered wi’ these hyar ani- mals, I ked follow them tracks easy enough. We'd soon kum upon the wheel ag’in, [reck’n; they ain’t a-goin’ to travel fur, wi’ a hump like thet on thar shoulders.” Tae presence of the wheelbarrow explained a point that had been puzzling us for some days. We had fallen upon its track more than once, and sup- poses it to have been made by the wheel of a cart; out in no instance being able to find the correspond- ing one, had given it up as a hopeless enigma. The only explanation,we had succeeded in offering our- selves was, that some light cart had accompanied the caravan—the load of which, being badly bal- anced, had throgyn the weight upon one wheel, al- lowing the other to pass over the ground without making an impression. As it was only on dry grass we had traced it, this explanation had sufficed— though far from being satisfactory. Neither my companion nor myself ever thought of a wheelbar- row. Who would, in such a place? ‘‘In the name o’ Old Nick, who kin they be?” asked Wingrove, as we halted on the ridge, where the fugitives had been last seen. ‘‘I’m not without my suspicions,” I replied, just then thinking of a peculiarity that had but slightly occupied my attention—the cut and color of their dresses. “If lam not mistaken, the two shy birds that have fled from us area brace of Uncle Sam’s - eagies.”’ “E Sojers?” AS Sl - ee of the taller man was increased full ten inches by | what appeared to be a black silk or beaver hat. The cut of their respective costumes was nearly the same, but the color was entirely different, the tall porwr’ being all over of a bottle-green tint, while | is shorter companion shone more agra nk ger in sky-blue. Notwithstanding their vivid colors, neither costume had anything Indian about it. My attention was less directed to the dress of the men than to their movements. The backs of both were toward us, and ed were going forward in the same direction as ourselves. e tall man was in the lead, opt be what appeared to be two over his left s He was advancing in slow, irregular strides, his thin body slightly stooped forward, and his long neck ns, one oulder and another in his right hand. | craned out in front of him as if trying to look over | the ridge, whose crest he was just approaching. | The short man was some half.dozen paces in the rear, and moving in a fashion altogether different. His body was bent against the hill at an angle of less than forty-five degrees with the horizon, and his short stout legs were playing in rapid steps, as if keeping time to a treadmill. He appeared to be pushing something before him, but what it was I could not guess, since it was completely covered by the disk of his body spread broadly against the hill. It was not till he had reached the summit, and made a slight turn along the ridge, that I saw what this object was. The exclamatjon of ludicrous sur- prise that agg np my companion told me that he had also made it out. ““Good gosh, cap’n!"’ cried he, “ look yander! Consarn my skin! ef’t ain’t a wheelbarra!”’ A wheelbarrow it ocho was, for the two men | were now traversing along the top of the ridge, and their bodies from head to foot were conspicuously outlined against the sky. There was no mistaking the character of the object in the hands of the shorter individual--a barrow beyond the shadow of a doubt—trundle and trams, box, body and spoke- wheel complete. The sight of this homely object, in the midst of the savage prairies, was as ludicrous as unexpected; and we might have hailed it with roars of laughter had prudence permitted such an indecorous exhibi- tion, As it was, my companion chuckled so loudly that I was compelled to caution him. Whether my caution came too late, and that the laugmer Naty pe de we coud net tell; but at that moment the pedestrian looked back, w that he had discovered us. sig ast Making a —— sign to his companion, he bounded off like a startled deer; and, after a plunge or two, disappeared behind the ridge, followed in fuil run by the man with the wheclbarrow, One might have supposed that the fright would have led to the abandonment of the barrow. But no; it was taken along—hurried out of our sight in an in- stant—and in the next both man and machine had disappeared as suddenly as if some trap had ad- mi him into the bowels of the earth. The sin fashion of their flight—the long strides en by the gander-like leader, and the scrambling attempt at escape made by the barrow- man — produced a most comic effect. I was no longer able to restrain myself, but Pyne my com- panion in loud and repeated peals o laughter. In this merry m and without any apprehen- sion of danger, we advanced toward the spot where the odd figures had seen. Some broken ground delayed us, and as nak Saas OF © Bed 50 be pamea over, we were a considerable time in reaching the summit of the hill. On ngs. Aaanag and looking over the swell, be- hind which they had disappeared, neither tall nor short man was to be seen. A timbered valley lay beyond; into this they had evidently escaped. The - that rare! answering to the ebullition. here. Se ee jers! ‘**Tn all probability.” ‘** But what ‘ud sojers be a-doin’ out hyar?” “Traveling to California, like ourselves?’ * Desarters, may be?” ‘* Just what I suspect. No doubt the pair have slip off from some of the frontier posts; and having no opportunity to provide themselves with a better means of transport, have brought the wheel- barrow with them. It is ludicrous enough, but by no means improbable. There are some queer cus- tomers in the service of Uncle Sam.” ‘**] think there be—ha! ha! ha! Whatshed we do, capt’n? Hedn’t we better catch up to ’em?”’ ‘That, comrade, may be easier said than done. If they’re deserters—and they must be, if they’re soldiers at all—they'll take precious good care not to let any one come near them, if they can help it. The escort that accompanies the train will account for their not being along with it. If they’ve caught * glimpse of my buttons, they'll be cached by this ime,” “They only see’d our heads. I reck’n they tuk us forInjuns?” ‘*In that case, they'll hide from us all the saame— only a little more cunningly.” ‘*Consarn their sojer skins! Ef they war as cun- nin’ asa kupple o’ ‘possums, they can’t a hide the track o’ the berra; an’ so long’s they keep in the timber, I kalk’late I kin lift thar trail. I reck’nI ain't quite forgot how; though I am bamfoozled a bit by these hyar prairies—consarn them! Ah! them woods, ig athe it diz one good to look at ’em}|" ‘The eyes of the young hunter sparkled with en- tlinsiasm as he spoke. lt was a real forest that was before us—a large tract covered with gigantic cottonwood trees, and the only thing deserving the name of forest we had seen for many on a As my companion stood gazing upon it, I could trace upon his countenance a joyous Sento. appeared there. The sight of the “Big Timbers’ recalled to him the forests of his own Tennessee—with happy memories of other times. They were not unmingled with shadows of regret; as I could tell by the change that came stealing over his features. ‘*Wemust try to overtake them,” said I, without “It is important for us to come up with them. Even if they be desert- ers, they are white men; and all whites are friends hey muster two guns; and if these fellows are what I take them to be, they know how to handle me We must follow them; ihere’s no time to be ost.”” “Ye're right thar, capt’n! The night's comin’ down fast, It’s a’ready gittin’ dark; an’ I’m afeerd it'll be tough trackin’ under the timber. If we’re to catch up wi’ them the night, we hain’t a minnit to spare.” ‘Let us forward then!” Crossing the ridge, we descended rapidly on the other side—the track of the wheel guiding us in a direct line to the nearest point of the woods. We could tell that the barrow had been trundled down the hill at top speed—by the manner in which the iron tire had abraded the surface of the slope. We had no difficulty in following the trace as far asthe edge of the timber, and for some distance into it; but there, to our great surprise, the wheel-track abruptly ended! It was not that we had lost it by its having passed over dry or ews ground. On the contrary, around the spot where it so suddenly dis- appeared, the surface was comparatively soft; and even an empty barrow would have made an impres- sion sufficiently traceable, either by my companion or myself. After beating about for some time, and extending our circle to the distance of a hundred yards or so, we failed to recover the sign. Certainly the barrow had not gone further—at all events, not upon its trundle. Instinctively, we turned our eyes upward —not with any superstitious belief that the fugi- tives had made a sudden ascent into the air. But the idea had occurred to us, that they might have hidden themselves in a tree, and drawn the barrow up into it. A single glance was sufficient to satisfy us that this conjecture was erroneous. The thin foliage of the cottonwoods offered no cover. A squirre] could hardly have concealed itself among their branches. ‘ \ “T've got it!’ exclaimed the hunter, once more seeking along the surface. “ Hyar’s thar tracks; tho’ t ain’t no s of the berra. I see how they've blinded us. gosh! thar a kupple o’ cun- nin’ old coons, whosomever they be.” ** How have they managed it?” “Tuk up the machine on thar shoulders, an’ toted it that-away! See! thar’s thar own tracks! They’ve gone out hyar—atween these two trees.” ; *‘ No; it s not likely.” ‘Wal, then, capt’n, s’pose we leave our critters hyar, an’ take arter’em afut? We kin quarter the croun’ a good bit ahead; an’I guess we'll eyther kum on them or thar berra afore long.”’ I agreed to this proposal; and, after securing our four quadrupeds to trees, we started off into the depth of the woods. nly for ashort distance were we able to make out the footsteps of the men: for they had chosen the dry sward to walk upon. In one place, where the path was bare of grass, their tracks were distinctly outlined; and a minute examination of them as- sured me of the correctness of my conjecture—that we were trailing a brace of runaways from a mili- tary post. There was no mistaking the print of the regula- tion shoe. Its shape was impressed upon my memory as plainly as in the earth before my eyes; and it required no quartermaster to recognize the low, ill-rounded heel and flat pegged soles. I identi- fied them at a glance; and saw, moreover, that the feet of both the fugitives were incased in the same cheap chaussure. Only in size did the tracks differ; and in this so widely, that the smrl:r was little more.than two-thirds the length of the larger one! The latter was remarkable for size—not so much in its breadth as length, which last was not less than thirteen standard inches. On noting this peculiarity, my companion uttered an exclamation of astonishment. ‘* Thar’s a fut, an’ no mistake!” cried he, ‘I reck’n *twar Lon yo + as made them tracks. Well! ef I hedn’t see’d the man hisself, I'd ‘a’ swore thar war giants in these parts!” I made no reply, though far more astonished than he. My astonishment sprung from a different source; and was mixed up in my mind with some old memories. J remembered the soot ! : CHAPTER XXVIII. TRACKING THE TRUNDLE. Yes, I had seen that foot before; or one so ve like it, that the resemblance was cheating me, Th could hardly be. With the exception of its fellow, the foot of which I was thinking could have no coun- terpart on the prairies; it must be the same. At first, my recollections of it were but — Iremembered the foot associated with some lIudi- crous incidents; but what they were, or when and where they had occurred, I could not say. Certain- ly I had seen it somewhere; but where? No matter: the foot recalled no unpleasant associations, I felt satisfied it wasa friendly one; and was now more anxious than ever of overtaking its sesquipedalian owner. After proceeding a short distance, the shoe-tracks again became too indistinct to fouow further. By quartering, however, we came upon them once more—at a place where the impressions were deep and clearly defined. Once more the immense foot rose upon the retina of my memory—this time more vididly—this time enabling me to place it;. for Inow remembered many an odd incident that had secured it a corner on the page of my recollections. Sticking through a stirrup with an enormous Mex- ican spur on its heel—its owner mounted on a horse thin and rawboned as himself—I remembered the foot, as well as the limbs and body to which it was attached, Beyond a doubt, the tall fugitive we were following was an old fellow campaigner—a veteran of the Rifle Rangers! The figure, as seen through the the telescope, confirmed me in the belief. The long limbs, arms, and neck—the thin, angular body—all were charac- hs pe of the bodily architecture of Jephthah sigelow. no longer doubted that the taller of the two men was my old follower ‘‘ Jeph Bigelow,” or ‘Sure- shot,” as his Ranger comrades had christened him; and appropriate was the designation—for a surer shot than Jeph never looked through the hind- sights of a rifle. Who the little man might turn out to be, I could not guess—though I was not without some recollections of a figure resembling his. I re- membered a certain Patrick, who was also a “‘ mim- ber of the corpse,”’ and whose /ui’d bore a close re- semblance to that of him seen between the trams of the barrow. My conjecture as to whothe men were, increased my desire to overtake them. If the tall man should turn out to be Sure-shot, a rifle would be added to our strength worth a dozen ordinary guns; and con- sidering the risk we were running—in danger of los- ing our scalps every hourin the day—it was of no small importance that we should join company with the deserters. We made every exertion, therefore, to come u with them, my comrade employing all the lore the backwoods, in his effort to recover their traces. On striking into an old buffalo-path, our eyes were once more gladdered by the sight of the wheel- track, plainly imprinted in the mud, Our prospecting was for the-time at an end. The barrow-track continued along the buffalo-path; and we were able to follow it, almost as fast as our legs could carry us. ‘ ven after it had grown too dark for us to see the track of the wheel, we were not disconcerted. We could follow it by the feel, stopping only at intervals to make sure that it was still among our feet. In this way we had traveled to the distance of @ mile from the place where our horses had been left, when all at once the barrow-track gave _ out. buffalo-path continued on; but no barrow had passed over it, unless carried as before. This was improb- able, however, and we were forced to the conclusion that the two men had turned off by some side-path we had not observed. While looking for this, a sound reached our ears, that resembled the murmur of a distant waterfall; but, listening more attentively, we could distinguish in it a different intonation. We at once moved in the direction whence the noise came, and before we had advanced a hundred yards through the thickly standing trees, we were JOO ‘S Geom (G (El)