Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 218 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

-_— -* = ' That of Wingrove would have appear 22 — ———— ee ee ee ee ee a - —— As yet not an Arapaho had been seen; but, on climbing to a ledge of rocks, I had the satisfaction to perceive that these brigands were still by the butte. Isaw not them, but their horses—the caval- lada being almost in the ame in which I had left it! From thisit was evident, that they had returned from the pursuit; had abandoned it altogether, and given their steeds to the grass. that still burned wpon the plain; but the strength of the caval/ada told that the others were there—no doubt, concealed from our view by the interposed | mass of the mound. I saw the wagon at its base — the white tilt conspicuous against the dark-green foliage of the cedars. But my eyes dwelt not upon this. In rapid glance, they were carried to the sum- mit. The crucifix was still there. I! could trace its tim- ‘bers—its upright and horizontal beams—thouzh not distinctly. Iknew what was rendering their outlines | indistinct. There was a body upon the cross—the body ofa man. It was that which interrupted the regularity of the lines. The timbers were between me and the body—for I viewed it from behind—and at such a distance, I could not have told who was the crucified man, even had he been facing me. Wingrove or Sure-shot—one or the other. Of that much I was certain. I could make out that the man was naked—just as I had been myself, Isaw his white skin glistening along each side of the upright post. While gazing upon it, I heard the report of a mus- ket. Nearly at the same instant, a little blue- col- ored cloud was ascending into the air. Itrose from behiad the butte; and was easily recegnizable as smoke produced by the discharge of a gun, The savages had returned to their crucl sport. Too clearly did [ comprehend the signs of that fiendish exhibition. After regarding the crucifix for awhile, I noted a circumstance that enabled me to decide which of my comrades was undergoing the terrible ordeal. oa certainty, Sure-shot was the sufferer. The Red-Hand had fulfilled his threat, and my brave preserver was now promoted to my place. I could tell it was Sure-shot by his hight. Ire- membered that my own crown scarcely reached the top of the upright post. That of him now enduring the torture rose above it—by a head. Under the bright sunbeam, there was a sheen of yellow hair. dark, Be- yond doubt, Sure-shot was the martyr now mounted upon that dread cross! I viewed the spectacle with feelings not to be en- vied. My soul chafed at the restraint, as it burned with bitter indignation against these demons in hu- man form, I should have rushed forward to stay the sacrifice, or, if too late, to satisfy the vengeance it called forth; but I was restrained by refiecting on the impotency of the act. The prudent chief who commanded the Indians would not move till the smoke-signal should be given; and videttes had climbe1 far up on the cliff to watch for and announce it. It was not antici- pated that we shouid have long to wait. Our party had moved slowly down the defile, and the time consumed in our advance was consid- erable—almost enough to have enabled the others to get to their respective stations. This thought— along with my experience of the ball-practice of the _Arapahoes—in some measure reconciled me to the delay. If he upon ‘the cross were still living his chances of escape were scarcely problematical. Another shot or two from such marksmen would be neither here nor there. If the unfortunate man were al- ready dead, then was the delay of less consequence: we should still be in time to avenge him. But he was not dead. The evidence that he was living was before my eyes, though in the confusion of the moment I had not sooner perceived it. Above the top of the post appeared the head, held stifly upright. This proved that the body still lived. Had it been otherwise the head would have been drooping. CHAPTER LIV. THE HISTORY OF THE HUNTRESS. Iuap just made these observations as the Mex- ican clambered up the rock and took stand by my side. ‘* Hijo de Dios!’ exclaimed he, as his eyes fell upon th3 cross, ‘la crucifivion / What a conception for savages! Mira!’ he continued, as another white cloud puffed out from behind the sloping side of the mound and the report of a musket came booming up the valley, ‘‘ Sanlissima ! they are firing at the unfortunate!"’ ** Yes,”’ said I, “ they are playing with one of my comrades as they did yesterday with myself.” ** Ah, mio amigo! thatis an old game of the Ara- pahoes. They used to practice it with their arrows, and for mere sport. Now that they have taken to guns, I suppose they combine instruction with amusement, as the books say Carrambo ! what cruel brutes they are! ‘They have no more human- ity than a grizzly bear. God help the poor wretch that falls into their clutches! Their captive women they treat with a barbarity unknown among other tribes. Even beauty, that would soften a savage of any other sort, is not regarded by these brutal Ara- oes. Only think of it! They were about to treat n this very fashion the beautiful Americana—the only difference being that they had strapped her to a tree instead of a crucifix. Carrai-i!”’ “The beautiful Ameri:ana?”’ **'Yes—she who brought you to the camp.” ‘*What! She in the hands of the Arapahoes?” “Sin duda. It was from them she was taken.’’ ‘* When, and where? How, and by whom?” “ Hola! hombre—four questions at once! Muy bien! Lcan answer them, if you give me time. To the first, I should say about six months ago. To the second, near the Big Timbers, on the Arkansas. My reply to the third will require more words: and be- fore giv it I shall answer the fourth by saying boo ‘he 1 was taken from the Arapahoes by Don ose! **Don Jose! Whois Don Jose?” Oh! perhaps you would know him by his Ameri- can name—Oaquer.”’ “Walker, the celebrated trapper? Joe Walker?” Only a few of the | men were in sight—moving about among the fires | | hoes! | the Utahs. rene Rives cmieeccie’ “The same, amigo. Oaquara, the Utahs nounce it. As you named so, and after him. The trapper and he were gs | erceive, their young chief is ee ee ee ““Her fate? Quick—tell me! for what had the villain destined her?”’ “Virgen Santa! for the harem of the Mormon sworn friends—brothers—or more liks father and | prophet! son, since Don Jose was much the older.”’ ‘** Were friends? Are they not so stili?”’ “Vulga me dios! No. Don Jose has gone under—was rubbed out more That is no longer possible. | ra! ' than three months ago, and by these very Rapa- | That is why your fair co -paisana is now with The old trapper left her to his name- sake, Oaquara—under whose protection she has beén ever since.”’ ‘**He has been true to his trust? her?’ Under the influence of singular emotions did these questions escape me. ‘ Sequramente, amigo !” replied the Mexican, with an ingenuousness calculated to allay my unpleasant fancies, ** the Utah chief is a noble fellow—un hom/re dslien. Besides, he would have done anything for his friend, whose death greatly grieved him. is just why you see him here in such haste. It was not to avenge your wrongs that they danced their war measure, but the death of Don Jose. All the same to you, however, since your companeros are likely to have the advantage of it. As forthe Amer- icana,’’ continued he, before I had time to make re- joinder, “* Virgen santissima/ such a maiden was never seen in these parts. Such a shot! marksman in the mountains could match with her, except Don Jose himself, who taught her; and as for hunting—la linda cazadora/ she can steal upon the game like acougar. Ah! she can protect her- self. She Aas done so. But for her spirit and rifle, the Red-Hand would have ruined her.”’ *“Buthow? You have not told me—”’ “True, cavallero! I have yet to answer number three. Bueno/ As I said, it was’ near the Big Tim- bers where she got into the hands of the Arapahoes. There was only a small band of the robbers, with Red Hand at their head. He wanted to play the brute with her. She kept him off with her rifle and a big dog you have seen. Red Hand became angry, and had her strapped to a tree, where the monsters threatened to shoot their arrows into her body. Whether they intended to kill her or only to terrify the poor girl is not known; but if the former was their design, they were hindered from into execution. upon the ground with a part rendezvous on Cuerno Verde. They were strong enough to beat off *the red-skinned ravishers and save the Americana. That is how she was taken from the Rapahoes.”’ ‘*A brave deed! there? Since Bent’s Fort was abandoned, there is no white settlement near the Big Timbers.” ‘** Ah, senor, that is the strangest part of the whole story. It was told me by Don Jose himself, while we were compineros on atrapping expedition, just mb he had saved the girl. Carreanto / a strange tale |" ‘* Have you any ye tae to tellit to me? I feela singular interest in this young girl.”’ * Sin duda! Of many a mountain man the same might be said, and many an Indian, too. Hum! _ og you would not be flesh and biood if you didn’t.’ : ‘“* Not tha’, lassure you. My interest in her springs from a different source. I have other reasons for inquiring into her history.” “You shall have it, then, cavallero—at least so much as { know of it myself, for it is reasonable to suppose that Don Jose did not tell me all he knew. This much: The sina was with a caravan that had come from one of your Western States. It was a caravan of Mormons. You have heard of the Mor- mons, I suppose—those heredicos who have made set- tlements here beyond?” ‘“*T have,” ** Well, one of these Mormons was the husband of the girl, or rather ought to have been, since they were married just at starting. it appears that the foung woman was against the marriage—for she oved some one more to her choice—but her father had forced her to it; and some quarrel happening just at the time with the favorite lover, she had con- sented—from pique, sin duda—to accept the Mor- mon. ‘** She did accept him?” “Yes; but now comes the strange part of the story. All I have told you is but a common tale, and the like occurs every day in the year.” ‘**Go on!” “When she married the Mormon, she did not know he was a Mormon; and it appears that these hereticos have a name among your people worse than the very Judios. It was only after the caravan had got out into the plains that the girl made this discovery. Another circumstance equally unpleas- ant soon came to her knowledge, and that was that the man who pretended to be her husband was after He has protected { ' ' That | Not a | ** Mira!’ exclaimed the Mexican, almost in the same breath—‘ Afiva / the signal-smoke of Wa-ka- To horse! to horse! mver :n /os Ar apahoes |” It was not the signal that called from my lips a convulsive exclamation. It was wrung from my agony, ere the smoke had been descried. It was drowned amidst the shouts of the savage warriors, as they crowded forward out of the chasm. Lea ing down from the ledge and flinging myself on the back of my horse, I mingled in the melee. As we swept from the yorge I cast a glance be- hind, The sound of female voices caused me to look back. The Utah women. mounted on mules and horses, were coming down the canyon, with the white huntress at their head! I wished a word with her; but it was too late. I dared neither pause nor go back. My Utah allies would have branded me as a coward—a traitor to my own cause! did not hesitate a moment; but, joining in the ‘**Ugh-aloo,” I dashed into the midst of the dusky host and galloped onward to the charge. eo. CHAPTER LV. THE SURPRISE. THe white ciloud—a puff of powder-smoke—had scarcely scattered in the air when a dark mass ap- peared upon the plain, emerging from the sulphure- ous vapor. 4 It was a troop of horsemen—the warriors of Wa- ca-ra. On giving the signal, they had issued forth from | the lower canyon, and were coming up the valley at a gallop. They were too distant for us to bear tneir | charging cheer; but from right and left proceeded a | jutting it | ust at that moment Don Jose came | of trappers from the | | But bow did she chance to bea | double shout—a war-cry answering to our own; and the moment after, a stream of dusky forms was seen pouring down each bluff, through the sloping gorges that led to the cmeey We could hear the shout that announced the as- tonishment of the Arapahoes. It was evident that they had been taken altogether by surprise; having no suspicion that an enemy was near—least of all the dreaded foes who were now rushing forward to surround them. The red-men are rarely betrayed into a panic. Accustomed from earliest youth to war, with all its wiles, they are always prepared for a stumpede. It is the system they themselves follow, and are ever expecting to be practiced against them. They accept the chances of attack—no matter how sud- den or unforeseen—with all the coolness of a con- test premeditated and prearranged. Even terror does not always create confusion in their ranks—for there are no ranks—and in conflicts with their own race, combinations that result from drill and dis- cipline are of little consequence. It is usually a | fight hand to hand, and man to man—where individu- a ’ all no husband—that he did not act to her as a hus- | band should do—in short, that the marriage had been a sham, the ceremony having been performed by some Mormon brother, in the disguise of a clerico |*" ‘** Was the girl's father aware of this deception?” “Don Jose could nottell. He may have known that the man was a Mormon; but Don Jose was of opinion that the father himself was betrayed by the false marriage, though he was present at it and ac- tually bestowed the bride!” “ Strange!” ‘ ** Perhaps, cavallero, the strangest is yet to come. For what purpose, do you su roy was this decep- tion practiced upon the poor oir v7 “*T cannot guess. Go on.” “ Oarrai! it was a hellish pur hear it. These Mormons have at their head a great chief priest—una propheta, as they call him. eisa ek Fr a yo perfect Turco--and keeps a harem of au itual wiveh, cana had got far out upon the plains—indeed, to the Big Timbers, where she escaped found out the terrible fate for which her false hus- band had designed her. She learned it from the other women who accom ied the caravan, and prowess prevails, and where superior personal strength and dexterity conduct to conquest. It is for this reason that the scalp-trophy is so highly prized; itis a proof that he who has taken it must have fought to obtainit. When “hair is raised ’’ in a night attack--by the chance of an ar- row or bullet—it is less esteemed. By the laws of Indian warfare the stratagem of assassination is per- missible, and practiced without stint. Buta coup of this kind is far less glorious, than to slay an enemy, in the open fleld, and under the broad glare of the sunlight. In conflicts by day Grategy is of slight advantage, and superior numbers are ed. It was the superior numbers of their Utah ene- mies that caused dismay in the ranks of the Arapa- hoes. Otherwise, they would not have regarded the mode of attack—whether their assailants ad vanced upon them in a single body, or in four divi- sions, as they were doing. . Indeed it was merely with a view of cutting off their retreat, that the Utah chieftain had adopted the plan. Had he not taken the precaution to approach from all sides at once, it would have been necessary for him to have waited for the night, before any attack could have been made. In = light it would have been impossible to get even with- in shot-range of the enemy. The Arapahoes were as well mounted as the Utahs; and perceiving their inferiority in numbers, they would have refused to fight, and ridden off, perhaps, without losing a man. The strategic maneuver of the Utah was meant to force the Red-Hand to_a conflict. .This was its purpose, and no other. For the Arapahoes, there appeared no alternative but stand and fight. he attack, coming from four points at one and the same time, and by superior numbers must have caused them fear. How could it be otherwise? It failed, however, to create any remarkable confusion, We could see them hurrying around the butte, in the direction of their caral/ada ; and, in an incredi- bly short space of time, most of the warriors had leaped to their horses, and with their long spears towering high above their heads, had thrown them- _ selves into an irregular formation. ~—= e; but you shall | iful ninas, who pass under the name of ‘spir- | lt was only after the young Ameri- | from him—that she » | The plain at this moment presented an animated spectacle. He upon the summit of the butte, if still ve, must have viewed it with singular emotions. The painted Arapahoes clustered around their chief, and for the moment appearing in a close crowd, silent and immobile; from north, south, east, and west, the four bands of the Utahs ergs in rapid gallop, each led by its war-chief; while the “Ugh! aloo!” pealing from five hundred throats, reverberated from cliff to cliff, filling the valley with its vengeful echoes! : oes await the shock of al] four Would the Ara divisions at once? All were about equally distant, and closing in at equal ea = the Red- Hand woult not stay to be thus attacke “ Oarrambo! I wonder they are not off before this!" shouted Archilete, who was galloping by my side. ‘“‘Ha, yonder!’ added he, “a + penne on foot ey are wait- making from the grove of alamos / ing for those to come up-—-that’s what's been détain- them. Mira!” s the Mexican spoke, he pointed to a small tope who, base wretches that they were! rather envied | of cottonwoods, which grew isolated about three her the honor by which she was to be distinguished ! Por Dios! a terrible fate for a young creature inno- cent and virtuous like her!” | or four hundred yards from the mound. Out of this was seen issuing some fifteen or twenty Arapahoes. They were on foot—except cS -EComiecboo eee ol —_ £4. 232 ore eg =