Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 308 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

As Risden’s intention had been to ascend the mountain from a point opposite their camping- round of the night before, they were obliged, in order to reach that point, to make another detour, passing down the other side of the storm’s track, Thus the afternoon was nearly half ended when they came to the starting-place. But Risden insisted upon beginning the as- cent, though the Indian objected. ‘* Heap too late,” mbled Auguste, “ Git caught by night—git lost.” “For a man who has been through as much as you have, you’ve a precious little sand in your craw,” remarked the white man. ‘If we don’t start now, what will we do?’ ‘‘ Sit down—eat grub—smoke pipe.” “Nobody gets ahead by sitting down and smoking. We can eat and smoke anywhere else as well as bere. If we do push on, we can stop where night catches us, and have a good start in the morning.” So they did push on, carrying their weapons and a fair supply of provisions. From their starting-place the side of the mountain was thickly covered with a tangled wth of alders and short birch trees, so beaten own and pressed together by the winds that the only way to force a path through them would be by cutting it. But a road bad been prepared by nature, and it was for the sake of following that road through the tangle that they bad chosen that point for starting. It was a clear-cut track, leading straight upward, almost entircly destitute of any kind of growth, and hollowed out asifa portion of the mountain had fallen from the top and cut a way for itself to the bottom. About in the middle of it flowed a clear and rept brook. be water was then quite low in the brook, but at the sides of the track were indications that it bad filled all the visible open space through the tangle. It was pretty hard climbing in places, but they got onward and upward at a fair rate of speed, Dick Risden taking the lead. The sky was clear, and the sun was shining brightly, and all the indications were of fair weather, and the detective was sure that he had done well to make a start. ‘Your Pamolah is in a good-humor to-day, Auguste,” said he, ‘‘I don’t believe that he really wants tostopus. That storm last night was only a bit of bis play.” ‘* Jess wait—den mebbe you see,” growled the Indian. They did see something, when they had got a little higher up, It was a bear, which was feasting on the cranberries that grew on the bushes that lined the slide, He turned as they approached him, and look- ed as if he would prefer not to be interrupted in hig repast. ** See dere!” warningly shouted Auguste, who was a little bebind bis leader, “Oh, I see that. It is nothing but a bear.” ** Bad bear, dat, Missa Risden.,”’ “What is the matter with you, Auguste? Since when did you begin to get scared at a bear? Who cares for a bear?” * Mought be somefin more’n bear. Mought be ole Pamolah hisse’f. He kin make storm or bear or w’ot he want.” ‘‘It may be the devil, for all I care; but it sha’n’t stop me,” Risden drew his revolver, and fired.a shot in the air, and the bear scampered off into the thicket. “There goes your Pamolah, Auguste. Give us a rest on that, now, if you don’t want to get your hide tanned.” They were getting well up the side of the mountain, and the day was drawing near its close, when both of them, as they looked Ups perceived that clouds were gathering hea about the summit of Katahdin. Dark and ominous were the clouds, and they kept gathering thickly and growiug darker and mere Ominous. Yet they were only about the summit, and it was still clear enough where the travelers were. Peals of thunder were heard plainly enough, and flashes of vivid lightning played against the blackness of the distant sky. ‘Want to go back, Missa Risden,” whined Auguste, ‘*Dis no good place fur Injun, Pamo- lah gue to raise heap debbil right now.” ‘Shut up!” angrily exclaimed the detective. ““[ have heard enough about your Pamolah, and e great deal too much. If you give me any more of that stuff, I will settle with you ina way that you won’t like.” ** Dis no stuff, Missa Risden. Big storm com- in’ right quick.’ “Let it come! It will be a queer storm if I can’t get out of its way. Ttere is somethin like a flat place fast above here, Auguste, an you had better pick yourself up and get to it.” Suddenly the clouds shot downward from the summit of the mountain, covering the entire sky. _ he thunder grew louder and sharper, and heavy drops of rain began to fall in the slide. Hemlock Hank. eo Dick Risden pressed onward and upware.; but his companion remained motionless on his knees by the brook side, as if petrified by terror. Even louder ard more ominous than the eee was a fearful roaring of the mountain- side. It sounded as if the crack of doom had come, and Katahdin was tumbling into ruins with the rest of the world, “ Come on, Auguste, or you'll be caught in the crush!” shouted Risden at the top of his voice, as he scrambled up on the little plateau which he bad been hurrying to reach. The next instant the brook was a torrent, and then an avalanche of water came rushing down the slide, carrying before it everything mova- ble that was in its way. Risden hastened to climb the rocks at the side, pulling himself up by the aid of the small trees and bushes that were rooted in the crev- ices, Even then he barely got out of reach of the water, so swiftly it came, and in such vast volumes. When he had gained a place of safety he looked below for bis companion; but the Indian had vanished, and nothing could be seen there but the rapid and resistless torrent. He could not doubt that Auguste had been swept away by the mighty rush of water. CHAPTER IX. ROUGH ON RISDEN, THE rain continued to fall heavily for half an hour or so, during which time Dick Risden clung to his perch, completely wet through, and disgusted with the disastrous result of his at- tempt to climb Katahdin. Gradually the rain slackened, and gradually the torrent decreased in volume, until he was able to climb down and find an easier resting- place on the little plateau. It was a resting-place, but without any rest. There was no comfort there. By this time it was night, and the night was very dark, and a brisk storm of hail followed the rain, and the hail was succeeded by sleet fine and sharp and biting, which lasted unti near morning. The detective would gladly have retraced his steps down the slide to seek Auguste; but the darkness was so intense that the attempt would be very dangerous, as well as impracticable. He could not stir from where be was, and it was impossible to make a fire, as there was no dry wood at hand, A more uncomfortable night he had never passed. Wet spRougi by the rain—chilled through by the hail and the sleet—without the slightest chance to sleep, or to get dry or warm—com- pelled to keep himself in violent motion most of the time to prevent the cold from fastening upon him too severely—his condition was any- thing but enviable. Yet he was justified in considering his lot a happy one, as compared with the probable fate of Auguste. The night seemed as if it would never end; but the sky cleared just before dawn, and when morning broke the day was bright and beauti- ful, A hot breakfast would have been a Spa blessing to the detective just then; but there was no sort of a breakfast for him, as all the food they bad brought bad been swept away with Auguste, Tired, and hungry, and stiff in every joint, he set out to climb down the slide in search of his late companion, The brook had shrunk nearly to its ordinary dimensions, and the descent of the mountain offered no serious difficulties. Risden fully expected to find the dead body of the Indian, probably at the foot of the slide. Instead of that, he found him not far from where the torrent had caught them—alive, but by no means well. Auguste was seated against the sunny side of a rock, endeavoring to dry and warm himself. The drying process was working well enough; but warmth was out of the question for him just then, as he was shaking with a hard chill. He was also severely bruised, and bis bones ae gta were 80 sore t he was scarcely able stir. Though he was doubtless as tough as most men of his race, the night’s encounter with the teas spirits of Katahdin had used him up ys He presented such a woebegone appearance that the detective, moved to pity by his mis- fortunes, produced a flask of liquor, and per- mitted him to take a hearty draught. The fiery liquor flew through his veins, and speedily put new life into bim. With a weak voice and trembling lips he told how he had been caught and carried away by the torrent, which thrown him down and dashed him onward so fiercely that his efforts to save himself had been utterly useless. . Fortunately be had seized a branch Sisouee down into the slide froma bent tree, and ha finally been able to pull bimself up out of the water, ' But he was more like a drowned rat than a live Indian when he got out, and he had ssed a most distressful night under the hail and the sleet. ‘*Pamolah too big fur ye lh was the sor- rowful but firm conclusion of his piteous tale, This time the detective neither argued with him nor jeered at him. He was obliged to admit to himself that he was beginning to believe in the power and spite- fulness of Pamolab. Though Auguste had saved his life, he had , lost everything he carried about him, except a rifle, which he found in the morning in the slide, Consequently, there was no sign of any breakfast for either of the weary and hungry travelers, “There is only one thing for us to do now,” said the detective. ‘‘ We will have to take the back track. We must go to camp and get some rub before we can make another start in any irection.” Auguste protested that he was quite unable to travel; but the sight of Dick Risden’s flask, and permission to test its contents, started bim up, and he declared his willingness to proceed to the best of bis ability. He got to the bottom of the slide without great difficulty, but thereafter his progress was much like that of the lazy mule which could only be persuaded to go ahead by a bundle of oats that was carried just before his nose, Risden soon grew tired of tempting him for- ward with liquor, and firmly declared that he should not bave another drop, When he sat down, and piteously protested that be could not put one foot before another the detective took his rifle from bim, and said that he would fe on and leave bim to his fate. Then the Indian got up and hobbled forward, making oma good time to the camping-place on the river. They speedily built a fire, unearthed some rovisions, and prepared a meal that put them th in better beart and humor. As they smoked their pipes after the meal, being then quite warm and comfortable, they discussed the recent events in their relation to future operations. That is to sav, the detective discussed them, the Indian confining his remarks to ejaculations concerning the power of Pamolah, and to pio- tests against being carried up into Katahdin. Risden did not attempt to argue him out of his opinions, and appeared to acquiesce in his ideas of the red-skin’s deity. He knew that he had nobody but Auguste to depend upon to help him find the man he was seeking, and that it is much easier to leada horse to water than to make bim drivk, The easiest way is acknowledged by sensible a pa to be generally the best way, and Dick isden had no doubt of his ability to persuade the Indian to his purpose when it was really nec to do so. ‘It is just as you say, Auguste,” he mildly remarked. “Old Pamolah seems to have a , Oe spite against you, if not against all In- ians, ‘‘Pamolah heap hard on Injun,” responded «ae ‘“That’s a fact, I am afraid. Being a fact, we must do the best we can without provoking him too far. Of course I must have a guide to take me up into Katahdin and all about the mountain. If I must give you up, I will have to look out for somebody else. You told me a while ago that you believed there was one aby man who knew the place that I want to nd. “Tink so,” answered Auguste, ‘‘T paid no particular attention to it at the time, as one guide was enough for me; but now, when you are inclined to 0 back on me, I remember what you then said, Who is that white man, Auguste?” ‘‘ Hemlock Hank.” | “T have heard of him. Hank Ward is his name, and he is a lumberman with the reputa- tion of being a right smart hand at the busi- ness. Of course he always comes up inte the ine woods to get out logs, and I purpose he fs sometimes up this way in the fall. t so, Auguste?’ ‘Hunt ’um timber, den,” answered the In- dian. ‘‘ He may be somewhere in this region now. Quite likely he is, If so, I think I know where and how | can get on his trail, and I must find him. I will be sorry to lose you, Auguste, and of course you will be sorry to lose the money I was to pay you for going on with this job to the finish.” This was presenting the matter to the Indian in an unexpected and unpleasant light, and he was instantly aroused, ‘“W’ot dat?’ he cried. ‘‘ Lose money? In- do what ‘he agreed to jun no can lose money.” “ Then Injun must do. My bargain with you was for a lump sum for the whole job, from Bangor and back, if it took all winter, and you are to get no money unless you go on and see me through.” ‘*No can lose money. Injun 1 6 ‘ have to go ~ ‘Very well, then, You CONMIELIOOL<S aCe (0) % a) _—_) eee eee ee Ce ————