Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 218 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

= waving in the air, are all signs of the excited anger of the Indians. Blood has been spilled—perhaps the blood of some of their chosen warriors—and ours will be sought to a certainty. We perceive no | siens of a pacific intent, no semblance that would lead us to hope for mercy. The foe is bent on our destruction. He rushes forward to kill! I have said, that the danger was not immediate. I did not conceive it so. My conception was based upon experience. I had met the prairie Indians before, ‘n the South; but North or South, I knew that their actics were the same. It is a mistake to anne that these savages rush recklessly upon death. Only when their enemy is far inferior to them in numbers, or otherwise an un- dermatch, will they advance boldly to the fight. They will do this in an attack upon Mexicans, whose prowess they despise; or sometimes in a conflict with their own kind, when stimulated by warrior pride, and the promptings of the tribal vendetta. On other occasions they are sufficiently careful of their skins, more especially in their encounter with the white trappers, or even travelers who enter the prairies from the East. The mere hope of plunder will not tempt even the boldest of red-skinned rob- bers within the circle of a rifle’s range. They all know from experience the deadliness of its aim. Most probably plunder had been their motive for attacking the train, but their victims could only have been some straggling unfortunates, too confi- dentin their security. These had not succumbed without a struggle. The death of all of them proved this, since not a prisoner appeared to have been taken. Further evidence of it was seen upon the sward; for as the crowd scattered, I observed through the glass several corpses that were not those of white men. ‘The robbers, though victo- rious, had suffered severely; hence the venge- ful yells with which they were charging down upon us. With all their menace both of signs and sounds, I had no fear of their charging up the mound, nor yet to its base, There were fifty yards around it within range of our guns; and the first who should venture within this circle would not be likely to go forth from it alive. ‘* Not a shot to be fired, till you are sure of hitting! Do not one of you pull trigger, till you have sighted your man!” This was the order passed around. On the skill of my comrades I could confide—on Sure-shot with all the certainty which his sobriquet expressed; and I had seen enough of the young hunter to know how he handled his rifle. About the Irishman alone was there a doubt—only of his coolness and his aim —of his courage there was none, In this, the “in- fantry ’ was perhaps equal to any of us. The words of caution had scarcely parted from my lips, when the enemy came galloping up. ‘ eir yelling grew louder as they advanced; and its echoes, ringing from the_ rocks, appeared to double the number of their wild vociferations. We could only hear one another by calling out at the top of our voices. But we had little to say. The baa os talking had expired; that of action had arrived. On come the whooping savages, horrid to behold; their faces, arms, and ies frightfully painted, each after his own device, and all as hideous as sav- age conception can suggest. The visages of bears, wolves, and other fierce animals, are depicted on their breasts and shields—with the still more horrid emblems of the death's head, the cross-bones, and the red hand. Even their horses are covered with similar devices—stained upon their skins in ochre, charcoal, and vermilion! The sight is too fearful to be fantastic. On they come, uttering their wild ‘“‘ Howgh-owgh-aloo!” brandishing their various weapons, and making their shields of parfleche rattle by repeated strokes against their clubs and spears—on comes the angry avalanche! They are within a hundred yards of the butte. For a moment we are in doubt. If they charge up the declivity, we are lost men. We may shoot down the foremost; but they are twenty to one. In a hand- to-hand a a we shall be overwhelmed—killed or captarede.- n less than sixty seconds of time! *“ Hold your fire!” I cried, seeing my comrades lie with their cheeks against their guns; ‘‘not yet! only two at a time—but not yet! Ha! as I expected.”’ And just as I had expected, the wild ruck came to a halt—those in the lead drawing up their horses, as suddenly as if they had arrived upon the edge of a precipice! hey had come to a stand just in the nick of time, Had they advanced but five paces further, at least two of their number would have tumbled out of their saddles. Sure-shot andI had each selected our man, and upon the signal to fire. The ready to follo others were ow. All four barrels resting over the rampart had Congae the eyes of the Indians. A glance at the glistening tubes was sufficient. True to their old tactics, it was the sight of these that had halted them! CHAPTER XXXVI. THE RED HAND. Tue whooping and screaming are for a while suspended. Those in the rear have ridden up; and the st ling cavalcade becomes massed upon the plain, at less than two hundred yards’ distance from the butte, Shouts are still heard, and talking in an unknown tongue; but not the dread war-cry. That has failed of its effect, and is heard no longer. Now and then young warriors gallop toward the butte, vaunt their valor, brandish their weapons, shoot off their arrows, and threaten us by word an gesture. All, however, keep well outside the peril- ous circumference covered by our guns. We perceive that they, too, have guns, both mus- kets and rifles—in all, a dozen or more! We can tell that they, are sg Those who carry them are dismounting to load. We may expect soon to re- ceive their fire; but, from the clumsy manner in which they handle their pieces, they need not terrify us—any more than their arrows, already sent, and falling far short. a dozen horsemen are conspicuous. They are chiefs, as can be told by the eagle-plumes stick- ing in their hair, with other insignia on their breasts and bodies. These have ridden to the front, and are rouped together—their horses standing head to head. Their speeches and gesticulations declare —— eit The Wild Huntress. | that they are holding council. The movements of | — menace are no longer made. We have time to ex- amine our enemies. They are so near that I need scarcely level the glass upon them; though through it I can note every feature with minute distinctness. They are not Comanches. Their bodies are too big, and their limbs too long, for these Ishmaelites | ten. of the southern plains. Neither are they of the Jicarilla-Apache; they are too noble-looking to re- semble these skulking jackals. More like are they to the Cayguas. But no—they are not Cayguas, I have met these Indians, and should know them. The war-cry did not resemble theirs. Theirs is the war-cry of the Comanche. I should have known it atonce. Cheyennes they may be—since it is their especial ground? Or might it be that tribe of still darker, deadlier fame—the hostile Arapaho? If they be Arapahoes, we need look for no mercy. I sweep the glass over them, seeking for signs by which I may identify our enemy. I perceive one that is significant. The leggings 2f the chiefs and principal warriors are fringed with sealps; their shields are encircled by similar ornaments, Most of these appendages are of dark hue—the locks long and black. But not all are of this kind or color. One shield is conspicuously different from the rest. A red hand is painted upon its black disk. It is the totem of him who carries it. A thick fringe of hair is set around its rim. The tufts are of different lengths and colors. There are tresses of brown, blonde, and even red; hair curled and wavy; coarse hair; and some soft and silky. Through the glass I see all this, with a clearness that leaves no doubt as to the character of these varied chevelures. i They are the scalps of whites—both of men and women! And the red hand upon the shield? A red hand? Ah! I remember. There is a noted chief of the name, famed for his hostility to the trappers, famed far a meat rg A un- equaled among his race, a savage who is said to de- light in torturing his captives, especially if it be a ale-face who has had the misfortune to fall into is hands. i Can it be that fiend—the Red-Hand of the Arapa- oes? The appearance of the man confirms my suspicion. A body, angular and ill-shaped, scarred with cica- trized wounds, and bent with age; a face seamed with the traces of evil passion; eyes deep sunken in their sockets, and sparkling like coals of fire—an aspect more fiend-like than human! All this agrees with the descriptions I have had of the Red-Hand chief. Assuredly it ishe, Our ene- mies, then, are the Arapahoes—their leader the dreaded Red-Hand. “Heaven have mercy upon us! have none!” Such was the ejaculation that escaped my lips, on recognizing, or believing that I recognized, the foe that was before us. The Red-Hand is seen to direct. He is evidently leader of the band. All séem obedient to his orders; all move with military Ce aig at his word or nod. Beyond doubt it is the Red-Hand and his followers who for crimes and cold-blooded atrocities are notec ashe. A dreaded band, it known to the traders of Santa Fe—to the ciboleros from the Taos Valley— to the trappers of the Arkansas and Platte. We are not the first party of white men besieged by these barbarous robbers; and if it be our fate to fall, we shall not be their first victims. Many a brave ‘“*mornntain-man *’ has already fallena victim to their flendish grasp. Scarcely a trapper who cannot tell of some comrade who has been slain by Red-Hand and his ***Rapahoes.”’ The council of the chiefs continues for some time. fome 7use is being devised and debated among them. With palpitating hearts we await the issue. I have made known my suspicions as to who is our enemy and cautioned my comrades to be on their guard. i have told them that, if my conjecture prove true, we need look for no mercy. Red-Hand is about to ad- The talk is at an end. dress us. Riding two lengths {fn front of his followers, the savage chief makes halt. His shield is held conspic- uously upward—its convexity toward us—not for any ag ee of security, but evidently that we may see ts device and know the bearer. Red-Hand is con- scious of the terror inspired by his name. In his other hand he carries an object better cal- culated than the shield to beget fearful emotions. Poised on the point of his long r, and held high aloft, are the scalps recently en, There are six of them in the bunch—easily told by the different hues of the hair, and all easily identified as those of white men. They are the scalps of the slain team- sters and others who had vainly attempted to defend the captured wagon. We view them with singular emotions—mine per- haps more singular than any. I endeavor to identify some of those ghastly trophies. Iam but too satis- fied at failing. CHAPTER XXXVI. AN ILL-TIMED SHOT. ‘** Hablo Castellano?” cries the savage chieftain, in broken Spanish. Iam not surprised at being addressed in this lan- guage by a prairie Indian. Many of them speak spanish, or its North Mexican patois. They have opportunities of learning it from the New Mexican traders, but better—from their captives! * Si cavallero/ I speak Spanish. What wishes the warrior with the red hand upon his shield?” ‘The pale-face is a stranger in this country, else he would not ask such a question. What wishes the Red-Hand? Ha! ha! hai The scalps of the white men—their scalps and lives—that is the will of the Arapaho chief! . The speech is delivered in atone of exultation, and accompanied by a scornful i The savage is roud of his barbarous and bloodthirsty character— e glories in the terror of his name. ith such a monster, it seems idle to hold parley. In the end it will be only to fight, and if defeated, to die. But the drowning man cannot restrain himself from catching even at a straw. ** Arapaho! we are not your enemies! Why should you desire to take our lives? We are peaceful trav- elers passing through your country, and have no wish to quarrel with our red brothers.” “Red brothers! Ha, ha, ha! Tongue of a ser- These men will — pent and heart of a hare! The proud Arapaho is not your brother: he disclaims kindred with a pale- face. Red-Hand has no brothers among the whites: all alike are his enemies. Behold their scalps upon his shield! Ugh! See the fresh trophies upon his spear! Count them! There are six! There will be Before the sun goes down the scalps of the four squaws skulking on the mound will hang from the spears of the Arapahoes!”’ I could not contradict the declaration: it was too fearfully probable. I made no re ly. ‘* Dogs!” flercely vociferated the savage, “come down and deliver up your arms!” ‘* An’ our scalps too, I s*pose,’’ muttered the Yan- kee. ‘“* Neo, certingly not, at your price. I don’t sell my notions so dirt cheap as that comes to. *Twouldn’t pay nohow. Lookee yeer, old red loves!’’ continued he, in a louder voice, and raising is head above the rampart, “this heer o’ mine air vallable, do ee see? lit airarare color an’ a putty color. It ’*ud look jest the thing on thet shield o’ yourn; but *tain’t there yet, not by a long chalk; an’ I kalklate ef ye want the skin o’ my head ye'll have to trot up an’ take it.” “Ugh!” ejaculated the Indian, with an impatient gesture, ‘*‘ The yellow squaw is not worth the words of a chief. His scalp is not for the shield of a war- rior. It will be given to the dogs of our tribe. It will be thrown to the jackals of the prairie.” ‘“* Ain’t partickles abeout what ‘ee do wi’ ‘t—thet is, efter ye’ve got it. Don’t ye wish ee may get it, eh?” ‘“Wach!” exclaimed the savage, with another im patient gesticulation. “The Red-Hand is tired talk- ing. One word more. Listen to it, chief of the pale- faces! Come down and deliver up your fire-weap- ons! The Red-Hand will be merciful: he will spare your lives. If you resist, he will torture you with fire. The knives of his warriors will hew the livin flesh from your bones. You shall die a hundre: deaths; and the Great Spirit of the Arapahoes will smile at the sacrifice!” “And what if we do not resist?”’ “Your lives shall be spared. The Red-Hand de- clares it on the faith of a warrior.” ‘*Faith o’ a warrior! Faith o’ a cut-throat! He only wants to come round us, capting, an’ git our scalps ‘ithout fightin’ for °en—thet’s what the red varming wants to be at—sure as shootin’.”’ ‘“Why should the Red-Hand spare our lives?’ I inquired, taken by surprise at any offer of life com- ing from such a quarter. “Has he not just said that all white men are his enemies?” “True. But white men may become his friends. He wants white men for his allies. He has a pur- ose,”’ ‘“* Will the Red-Hand declare his purpose?” “Freely. His people have taken many fire-wea ons. See! they are yonder in the hands of braves, who know not how to use them. Our ene- mies, the Utahs, have been taught by the white hunters; and the ranks of the Arapaho warriors are thinned by their deadly bullets. If the pale- faced chief and his three followers will consent te dwell with the band of the Red-Hand and teach his warriors the great medicine of the fire-weapon their lives shall be spared. The Red-Hand will honor the young soldier chief and the White Eagle of the forest.”’ “ Soldier chief! White Eagle of the forest! can he have known—”’ “Tf you resist,’ continued he, interrupting my reflections, ‘the Red Hand will keep his word. You have no chance of escape. You are but four, and the Arapaho warriors are numerous as the trees of the Big Timber. If one of them fall by your fire- weapons he shall be revenged. The Red-Hand re- peats what he has said: the knives of his braves will hew the living flesh from bay: bones. You shall die a hundred deaths, and the Great Spirit of the Arapahoes will smile at the sacrifice!” ‘Be St. Patrick, capting!” cried O’Tigg, who, not Sreomengern Bem . Spanish, was j been said, “that ugly owld Indyan wants a bit ov cowld lid through him. Introth, I b’lave the mus- ket moight raich him. She belonged to Sargent Johnson, an’ was considhered the longest raich gun about the fort. What iv Ithroy her carry on the rid-skin? Say the word, your honor, an’ here goes!” So astounded was I at the last words of the Ara- paho chief that I paid no heed to what the Irishman was saying. I had turned toward Wingrove—not for an explanation, for the young hunter, also ignorant of the language in which the Indian spoke, was una- ware of the allusion that had been made to him. I had commenced translating the speech, but be- fore three words had escaped my lips the loud bang of a musket drowned every other sound, and the cloud of sulphurous smoke covering the whole plat- form hindered us from seeing one another. It needed no explanation. The Irishman had taken my silence for consent: he had fired! From the thick of the smoke came his exulting shout: “Hooray! he’s down! Be me sowl, he’s down! I knew the owld musket ‘ud raich him! Hooray!" The report reverberated from the rocks— ling its echoes with ag = vengeful cries that came pealing up from the plain. In an instant the smoke was wafted aside, and the painted warriors were once more visible. The Red-Hand was erect upon his feet, standing by the side of his horse, and still holding his spear liow and his shield. The horse was down—stretched a the turf, and struggling in the throes of eath! : ~ rrah, cyapt’n! wasn't that a splendid shot?” “A shot that may cost us our er said I; for I saw that there was no longer any chance of a pa- cific arrangement—even oe the condition of our making sharpshooters of every red-skin in the tribe. ‘Ha, ha, ha!’’ came the wild laugh of the Arapa- ho. eee on the pale-face traitors! ven- eance!”’ = And shaking his clinched fist above his head, the savage chief retired among his warriors. CHAPTER XXXVIII. ATTEMPT TO STAMPEDE. WE made an attempt to open the interrupted par- ley, but it was in vain. tever amicable design the Red-Hand might have conceived was now changed to a feeling of the (| OOO) e€om cS -_- ee eee ee ee orant of what had . s Go Le 7