Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 218 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

| | | ay a ———— —— -_— —_ - . -_— three or four, who appeared to be carried by the | others. “t Their wounded!” coritinued the trapper. “They've had them under the bushes to keep the sun off them, I suppose. Mira! they are meeting them with horses! They mean flight then.” A party with led-horses were seen galloping out from the base of the butte, evidently to take up the men on foot—who were still hurrying toward their mounted comrades, as fast as the nature of their duty would permit them. There were several groups of the Indians on foot each no doubt in charge of a disabled comrade. One crowd appeared to encircle a man who was not borne upon their shoulders, but was moving on his feet. The violent gesticulations of those who sur- rounded him drew our attention. The man was evyi- dently being menaced and urged forward—as if he went against his will. . * Carrai /” exclaimed the Mexican, ‘* #4 is not one of their wounded. A captive! One of your cama- ra‘/os, I dare say?” “No doubt of it,” I repl’ed, at that moment equal- ly guided to the conjecture. “Wagh!” exclaimed the trapper, ‘the poor fel- low’s scalp isin danger just now. I wonder they take all that trouble to get him away alive!—that puzzles me, amigo! I think it high time they looked to their own lives, without being so particular about that of their prisoner. San‘issima Viryen! As TI live. there’s a woman among them!” * Yes—I see her—I know her. Her presence ex- plains why ng | are taking him alive.” ** You know her?”’ **And him too. Poor fellow! friend him; but—”’ I was hindered from continuing the explanation. Just at that moment, the led horses were rushed up to; and those in “ry of the wounded were seen to spring to their backs. Here and there, a double mount proclaimed that the disabled men were still capable of making a last effort for their lives. ll had got upon their horses, and ina straggling crowd were making to join the main band; when just at that moment, one of the horses that carried two men was seen to swerve suddenly from the line, and, heading up the valley, come galloping in our direction, eared to have taken fright, and shied The horse a away from e others; while the men upon his trying back were tossing and writhing about, as to restrain him! At the same instant, half a dozen mounted Arapa- hoes were seen shooting forth from the crowd, and with loud yells galloping in pursuit of the runaway! The double-loaded steed—a powerful animal—kept on his course; but, not until he had approached within three or four hundred paces of our! own front, could LTaccount for this strange maneuver. Then was 1 enabled to comprehend the mysterious escapade. The rider upon the croup was Frank Win He upon the saddle wasa red Arapaho. The bodies of the two men appeared to be lashed together by a rawhide rope; but, in front of the Indian, I could perceive the muscular arms of the yo back- woodsman tightly embracing the cheat of the sav- age, while with the reins in his fingers he was guid- ing the gallop of the horse! ith a shout of joy I hailed the esca comrade, now no longer [pee ag uae of seconds more, we should meet, The pursuers—satisfied that his re-capture was hopeless without Sere their own scalps—had al- ready turned with a despairing shout, and were galloping back. Wingrove was near enough to hear the cry of encouragement that passed from my lips; and, soon recognizing me, despite the disguise of the serape, headed his horse directly toward us, “‘ Hooraw, cap’n!” cried he, ashe came up. “ Hev ou e’er a knife to cut me cl’ar 0’ this Indjun? urn the niggur! I’ve got himin a leetle o’ the tightest fix he’s been in for a while, I reck’n. Dog- gone ye! keep still, ve skunk, or I'll smash every rib in y’ur body! Quiet now!” During all this time the Indian was making the most strenuous efforts:to free himself from the Ihope she will be- ove! of my a score _grasp of his powerful adversary—now endeavoring to throw himself down from the horse, anon trying to turn the animal in an opposite direction. But the thongs intended to secure his captive — and which had no doubt been wound around both of them by a third hand—had become bonds for him- self. Wingrove, who had by some means wrenched his wrists free from their fastenings, had turned the tables upon his captor, by transforming him into a captive! chanced to be without a knife; but the Mexican was supplied with the necessary implement; and drawing it from its sheath, shot past me to use it. i thought he intended to cut the thongs that bound the two men together. So did he; but not till after he had performed another operation—which con- ancaato eae his blade between the ribs of the At the stab, the Indian gave utterance to his wild death-shout. In the same instant his head cor- gied over upon his shoulder, his body muscular tension, and hung limp over the rawhide rope. % snip of the red blade severed the thong; and the Indian's body sliding down from the withers of the horse, fell with a dull dead sound upon the turf. fae? . “Here, Americano /” cried the trapper, holding out relaxed its | After the first round of shots, the firing ceased, and the Utahs again went charging onward. The Arapa- hoes had given way,and were fleeing down the valley. There they must meet Wa-ka-ra. And this or some- thing like it was their intention. With the four divisions closing upon them from all sides at once, they saw there was no charce of saving themselves—except by making a desperate charge on some one singly, in the hope of causing it to yield, and thus open for them a way of es- ' Cape The yr had no difficulty in making choice of which they should meet. The band of Wa-ka-ra was be- tween them and their own country. It was the di- rection in which they must ultimately retreat; and this decided them to take down the valley. A slight swell in the plain, which we were at that. The Wild Huntress. ee ee eee moment crossing, gave me a view of the retreating | Arapahoes. In the distance, I could see the band of Wa-ka-ra advancing toward them at full speed. these mortal foes, The Utahs of our party were urging their horses to utmost speed. Well mounted as were myself and companions, we were unable to overtake them. Those that came from right and left had suddenly swerved from their course; and in two converging lines were sweeping down the valley to the assist- ance of their chief, We passed close under the edge of the butte. In the excitement of the chase, I had almost forgotten to look up—when a shrill shout recalled to my mem- ory the captive on the cross. The cry came from the summit—from Sure-shot himself. Thank Heaven; he lived! ‘**Hooza! hoozay!’’ shouted the voice. ‘‘ Heaving $< TT —EE ee speed yees, whos’ever ye be! Hooza! hoozay! Ar- ter the verming, an’ gi’e ‘em goss! Sculp every mother’s son o’ em. 00za! hoozay!”’ There was no time to make reply to these cries of encouragement. Enough to know that it was our old comrade who gave utterance to them. It proved he was still living; and, echoing his exulting shout, we er onward. It was a fearful sight to behold the twodark bands as they dashed forward upon one another—like op- osing waves of the angry ocean. Through the acer Mi in front of me, 1 could. see the meet- ing, and hear the shock. It was accompanied by wild yells—by voices heard in loud taunting tones— by the rattling of shields, the crashing collision of spear-shafts, and the sharp detonations of rifles. The band of Wa-ka-ra recoiled for a moment. + It was by far the weakest; and had it been left to itself, would have sustained defeat in this terrible encounter. But the Utahs were armed both with rifles and pistols; and the latter playing upon the ranks of the Arapaboes, were fast thinning them. Dusky warriors were seen dropping from their horses; while the terrified ani went galloping over the field—their wild neighs adding to the up- roar of the fight. There was but one charge—a short but terrible conflict—and then the fight was over. It became transformed, almost in an instant, to a disorderly flight. When the hot skurry had ended, the remnant of the prairie-horsemen was seen heading down the valley, followed by the four bands of the Utahs— who had now closed together. ssing onward in the pursuit, they still vocifer- ated their wild Ugh! aloo!—firing shots at intervals, as they rode within reach of their flying foemen. Neither Wingrove nor I had an opportunity of taking part in the affray. It was over before we could ride up; and, indeed, had it been otherwise, neither of us could have been of much service to our allies. Painted as both were, and in full war-cos- tume—in other words, naked to the breech-clout— we could not have distinguished friends from foes! It was partly this consideration that had occa- sioned us to halt. We drew up on the ground where the collision had occurred with the band of Wa-ka- ra. We looked upon a spectacle that might at any other time have horrified us. A hundred bodies lay over the sward, all dead. There were Utahs as well as Arapahoes; but, though we could not distinguish the warriors of the two tribes in the confusion of the fight, there was no difficulty in identifying their dead. There was a signal difference in the aspect of the slain Indians. Around the skulls of the Utahs, the thick black tresses were still clustering; while upon the Heads of the Arapahoes there was neither hair nor skin. Every one of them had been already scalped. Wounded men were sitting Up. or propped against dead bodies—each with two or three comrades bend- ing over him. Horses were galloping around, their lazos trailing at will; while weapons of every kind— spears, shields, bows, quivers and arrows—were strewed over the sward. A group of about a dozen men appeared at some distance, clustered around a particular object. It was the dead body of a man—a chief, no doubt? Not without feelings of apprehension did I approach the spot. It might be the noble Wa-ka-ra? I rode ~ Boas looked over the shoulders of those who en- circled the corpse. A glance was sufficient to put an end to my apprehensions. The body was covered with blood, and pierced with many wounds. It was frightfully mutilated ; but I was able to identify the features as those of Red-Hand, the chief of the Arapahoes! Scarred and though it was, I could still trace those sinster lines that in life had rendered that face so terrible to behold. It was even more the ensanguined knife to Wingrove; “take ‘this | hideous in death; but the Utahs who stood around weapon for want of a better. Let us on! picaros are making off. Vamos! nos vamonos |” The incident had delayed us but fora very short while—perhaps not halfa minute; but as we re- turned to the ec ng gallop, most of our party had passed us; and the foremost were already with- in rifle-range, and opening fire upon the Arapahoes. CHAPTER LVI. ho had forged head, f orsemen who oO a . for a while, hindered me from seeing the enemy. The Utahs had halted, and were discharging their guns. The smoke frem their shots shrouded both allies and enemies; but, from the fact of a halt having been made, I resumed the Arapahoes were making stand by the butte. It was not so. See! the | no gis regarded it with fear. The terror, which their dread foeman had oft inspired within them, was now being retaliated in the mockery of his mu- tilated remains! The Mexican had ascertained that Wa-ka-ra was still unhurt, and heading the pursuit. Having myself no further interest in the scene, 1 turned away from it; and, with Wingrove by my side, rode back toward the butte. CHAPTER LVI. TRAGIC AND COMIC. Some words passed between us as we went. For my companion I had news that would make him su- proeaesy, happy. Our conversation turned not on t. “Soon enough,’ thonght I, *“*when they shall come together. Let both hearts be blessed at ‘ 23 ee — the same time.” Ah! how my own was bleedi:.: Little suspected the Spanish hunter how his tale had tortured me! Wingrove, in brief detail, gave me the particulnrs of his escape. Like myself, he had been capture:| without receiving any seriousinjury. They would have killed him afterward, but for the interferetice of the Chicasaw, who, by some means, had gained an ascendancy over the -Hand! In the breast of this desperate woman burned alternately the pas- sions of love and revenge. The former had been for the time in the ascendant; but she had saved the captive’s life, only in the hope of making him jr captive. She had earried him to the copse, where he had passed the night in her company—one mo- ment caressed and entreated—in the next reviled, and menaced with the most cruel death! In vain had he looked for an opportunity to get away from her. Like a jealous tigress had she watched him ab | throughout the live-long night; and it was only in In a few seconds would meet in shivering charge | the confusion, created by our sudden approach, that he had found a chance of esca rom the double guardianship in which he had been held. All this was made known to mein a few hurried phrases. Sure-shot! we were within speaking distance; but who could have identified the Yankee in such a uise? The tri-colored escutcheon I had myself so. ately borne—the black face, shoulders, and arms— the white circle on the breast—the red spot—all just as they had ae me! ** Jeehoso us approach; “air i teoo!’ “Yes, brave comrade! Your shot has saved us all. Patience! we shall soon set you free!”’ Leaping down from our horses, we hurried up the sloping path. I was still anxious about Sure-shot’s sat ety. ; but in another moment my anxiety was at an end. He was yet unscathed. Like myself, he had received some scratches, but yeou, capting? an’ Wingrove, no wound of a dangerous character. Like myself, he had died a hundred deaths, and yet lived! His hroughout the ee spirit had sustained him read ordeal. He had even joked with his cruel tormentors! Now that the dark hour was past, his jeux d’esprtt were poured forth with a continuous volubility. No: not continuous. At intervals, a shadow crossed his spirit, as it did that of all of us. We could not fail to lament the fate of the unfor- tunate Hibernian. ‘*Poor Petrick!’’ said Sure-shot, as we descended the slope, “‘*he weer the joyfulest kimrade I ever hed, an’ we must gi’ him the berri] o’ a Christyan. I wonder neow what on airth them verming hes done wi’ him? Wheer kin they have hid his body?” ‘*True—where is it? It was out yonder on the plain? I saw it there; they had scal him.”’ ““Yees; they sculped him at the time we weer all captered. He weer lying jest out theer last night at sundown. He ain't theer now; nor ain’t a-been this mornin’ or I'd ‘a’ see’d him. What do ees think they’ve done wi’ him anyhow?” The disa rance of the body was singular enough. It had undoubtedly been removed from the spot where it had lain, and was now nowhere to be seen! It was scarcely probable that the wolves had eaten it, for the Indians had been all night upon the ground; and their camp-fires were near. True, the coyotes would have cared little for that; but surely the brutes could not have carried the body clear away? The bones, at least, would have remained? a nate fore none—not a trace either of body or nes We around the butte, and made search on the other side. There was no dead body there—no remains of one. Ha—the river! It swept past within fifty yards of the mound. It would account for the disappearance of the corpse. We walked toward the stream, half mechanically. We had little expectation of finding the remains of the unfortunate man. The current rushed rapidly on; the body would have been taken along with it’ ‘Maybe it mout hev lodged somewheres?” sug- gested Sure-shot. ‘Ef we shed find it, capting, I'd like to put a sod over him, for old times’ sake. Shell we try down the stream?" We followed the bank downward. A little below grew willows, forming a selvedge to the river's edge. Their culms curved over, till the long, quiv- ering leaves dipped into the water. Here and there were thickets of them extending back into the Jain. Only by passing through these could the — of the river be reached. We entered among the willows, Wingrove going in the advance. I saw him stoop suddenly, as if to examine the pee: An exclamation escaped him, and the words: ‘Someb'dy’s crawled through hyar, or been dragged through—one o’ the two ways. No!” added he, after a moment, “he’s not been dragged; he’s been creepin’ on his hands an’ knees. k ther! the track 0’ a knee, as cla’r as daylight: an’, by the ‘tarnal! it’s been covered wi’ broadcloth. No Injun kud ‘a’ made that mark!” . We all bent over to examine the sign. Sure enough, it was the track of a man’s knee: and the plastic mud exhibited on its surface a of fretted lines, which must have been coarse threadbare cloth! +“ vou exclaimed Sure-shot, “‘ that eer’s the infantry overall—the givernment cloth to a sarting- ty. Petrick’s been abeout heer. Lordy, ‘tain’t ble he’s still living?” ‘*Shure-shat! Shure-shat! Mother ov Moses! is it yerself I hear?” The voice reached usin a hoarse whisper. It ap- peared to rise out of the earth! For some moments, we all stood, as if petrified by surprise. ‘“‘Shure-shat!"’ continued the voice, “won't yez help me out? I’m too wake to i up the bank.’ ‘*Petrick, as I’m a livin’ er! Good Lordy, Petrick! wheer air ye? °Tain’t possyble yeer alive?’ ‘Och, an’ shure I’m aloive, that same. But I’m more than half did, for all that; an’ nearly drownded to boot. Arrah, boys! rache me a hand, an’ pull ~ ee I can’t move meself—one of my legs is roke. ade by We all three rnshed down to the water—whence the voice appeared to come. Under the drooping willows, where the current had undermined the bank, we perceived an object in motion. A fearful Ehboo eoim S) et an’ neg th cried he, as he saw . rint * . a, (Eo) = — eS a * ———— oo. — ~— oo — ee ry — i