Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 38 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

————————— eee “The daughter of a great chief, she did not dare to tell who she was, for the white chiefs hate her father,” the maiden said, in faltering tones. And then, before Velvet Hand could reply, the fierce Indian yell rung on the air, and every bowlder appeared to be crowned by a painted chief. Velvet Hand’s revolvers glistened in his hand; the girl crouched at his feet; a bloody conflict seemed near at hand. CHAPTER X. THE “HOG” TALKS BUSINESS. Suppen was the irruption, complete the surprise. The dusky forms of a hundred well-armed warriors crowned the rocks of the defile. Armed to the teeth was Velvet Hand, but what could one man do against a host? And the Indian maid, crouching at his feet; like another Samson, he had been betrayed, by a woman, to defeat and death; he wondered, too, that she could be brought to lend her- self to such a deception, for gratitude is generally the strongest impulse due to the savage breast. High on the crest of a lava rock stood the great chief of the McClouds; as proud a king—dusky though his skin and barbarian his pomp—as any Old World monarch of them all. In his hand he bore a patent breech-loading rifle. The days of savage weapons have long since passed away, and the modern red chief meets his foe armed with weapons of the latest pattern, thanks to thie paternal care of a benevolent govefnment which provides its ‘“‘helpless” wards with the latest style of weapons, so that they may be enabled to kill game—and white men—with ease and grace. ‘“‘Betrayed to death by you, Water-bird!” Velvet Hand exclaimed, as, with an undaunted front, he faced the fearful odds arrayed against him. “As the bright stars can witness, I am innocent!” the girl moaned, evidently deeply afflicted. There was truth in her voice if ever truth spoke in human accents, and the imperiled man believed her. Motionless as statues for a moment stood all the actors in this strange scene; the savage warriors with brandished weapons in their dusky hands, waiting but for the signal of their chief to spring forward at once to the slaughter of the solitary white, and Velvet Hand, as cool of eye and as steady of nerve as though all this startling, warlike display was but an empty pageant, “ full of sound and fury but signifying nothing.” And then a change came over the spirit of the scene; the McCloud chief spoke: ‘“‘Let my warriors hold off their hands, and you, bold white chief, throw down your little guns!” “Oh, no!” Velvet Hand replied, quickly; “‘ while I live Pll hang on to my weapons. You red fellows have the advantage ust now, but if I must die, be sure I will have company in cross- g the dark river!” The McCloud chief frowned as he listened to the bold words of the white. “* And will my brother dare attempt to resist the braves of the red McClouds in their native hills?’ the old warrior cried, lustily, “Let my brother throw down his weapons and beg for mercy! If he tries to play the wolf, let him not murmur if the red hun- ters give to him the fate of the wolf!” “Does the chief think to scare me with words?’ Velvet Hand replied, contemptuously. ‘‘ Let him talk to the winds, and bid them be still when they choose to blow. Alone—a single man am I, but before you take my scalp, I’ll send some of your warriors to their long home. Trust to your mercy? Oh, no! If I must face death, it shall be with arms in my hands and not as a bound and helpless prisoner.” For a moment the McCloud chieftain seemed undecided: he looked at his red warriors and he looked at the daring white man who so boldly held his ground. As well as any man in the Western wilds he knew how lightly the cool-eyed white man held that precious jewel which men call Life; no stranger was he to the story of the past wherein the desperate white chief had played so prominent and bloody a part. The red McCloud was an acute and wily chieftain. He had a deep purpose in view in springing this trap upon the white man, Through his trusty spies he had learned of the acquaintance which had been so strangely formed between the white man and the young McCloud girl, and had seized upon it as a means to lure Velvet Hand into his power. Acting under his direction, one of the old squaws had suggested to the girl—who had confided to the aged crone her acquaintanceship with the Cinna- bar man—that she could easily pay the debt of gratitude due to the white man by revealing to him a secret ‘‘ pocket” in the mountain where the precious gold-dust could be procured, and this was the reason why the Water-bird had wished for the inter- view; but it was all a scheme on the part of the old chieftain to get the white man into his power. The secret ‘‘ pocket” in the mountain existed only in the imagination of the old squaw. The plan had succeeded in every particular, excepting that the McCloud chief had anticipated that the white man would sur- render upon 'seeing the number that opposed him, and the bold defiance of Velvet Hand had surprised him, Koo-choo, the Hog, meant business; it was not merely to take the scalp of the white man that he had intrigued to lure him to the lonely defile above the McCloud canyon, but he had a far deeper purpose in view, Velve t Hand. 9 ——_ - The bold attitude of the white man, however, did not suit him. He did not desire to treat with Velvet Hand as with a potentate of equal power, but preferred to have him helpless—a prisoner in his hands, and then talk to him. In fact, the wily McCloud chief wanted all the advantage on his side. But. it was not to be. The trick had succeeded; the white was in the defile alone, surrounded by the armed red-men, but he had not surrendered, nor did he intend to. A conflict was not to be thought of, for an attack would defeat the purpose which the red chief had in view. Therefore, with as good a grace as possible, the McCloud chief prepared to make the best of the situation, ‘‘The Red McClouds would be friends with the bold white chief,” he said, with great dignity. Velvet Hand smiled; the idea pleased him. Force had fafled; the chief would now try cunning. ‘‘No man in all the great north land would the warriors of the McCloud sooner call brother than the white chief who is as brave as the bear, as cunning as the beaver, and as wise as the owl,” continued the old warrior. ‘‘In the, mind of the McCloud chief lives' the past. He remembers his brother when he was the great chief of the Shasta nation and wore the war-paint of the red-man. His white brothers do not treat him well; why does he dwell with them in their lodges up the river? Why does he not make his home with the red-men in the mountain wilderness? The Shastas are no longer a great tribe, but the McClouds are the lords of all the northern land; the Red McClouds will be glad to-weleome so great a warrior as my brother, and they will do him honor.” And then the old chief waved his hand. Instantly the signal was obeyed, and like magic the savage warriors vanished, each separate brave sinking to his covert amid the rocks with ghost- like celerity. Then down from his lofty perch the old warrior stepped, and, casting his rifle into the hollow of his arm, he advanced directly to the little level spot where Velvet Hand stood. The Indian girl rose to her feet as the old warrior came on, and, stepping back a few paces, surveyed him with a curious look upon her pretty face, for the young squaw was pretty, despite her dusky complexion and the unmistakable Indian cast to her features. : ; Koo-choo halted in front of the white, and his black glittering eyes peered curiously first at Velvet Hand and then at the girl. “My brother is a great brave—a cunning one, too, or else the, Water-bird would never have flown ‘from her wigwam to meet him. . Does my brother know that Hula-ha-ha is the daughter of Koo-choo, and that she shall be the squaw of the white’ man if he wishes her?’ This was business with a vengeance, CHAPTER XI. WHAT THE ‘‘ HOG” WANTED. THE maiden modestly cast down her eyes, but the look of joy upon her face told only too plainly that she would bé no unwill ing bride. Velvet Hand glanced at the girl for a moment in his odd, peculiar way, while the old chief watched him, eagle-eyed. Then the white turned his attention to the McCloud warrior. “You do me too much honor,” he said, quietly. ‘‘ What am I to do for you in return?’ The chief drew himself up proudly. ‘‘The McCloud warrior does not sell his daughter!” he ex- claimed, in haughty dignity. ‘‘He gives her to his white brother; that is all.” “And yet, if you desired a service at my hands I should feel bound to comply,” Velvet Hand suggested, shrewdly. “ Ah, that is another matter,” the old chief said, his dark eyes flashing with a cunning light; then he beckoned the white to a spot a little remote from the one where the girl was standing. “The McClouds are jealous of the white men in the valley,” he continued, cautiously. “Their lodges grow too fast; some day the red warriors will take the war-path and drive the gold-dig- gers away.” Velvet Hand shook his head sadly. “Has the chief forgotten the fate of the Shastas?’ he asked. “It is useless to try to drive back the whites by force, It cannot be done,” “Then my brother would not join the McClouds if they took the war-path against the white men?” “ie.” ‘‘ Not if he took the Water-bird to sing in his wigwam?”’ 6é No.” “ Why not? “< Because the attempt is useless and would only end in the de- struction of your tribe.” The old warrior nodded his head, sagely. “So the great chief of the McClouds thinks, and when the Modocs talked of the war-path he said, ‘ No,’ just as my brother has said.” “ Are the Modocs dissatisfied?’ asked Velvet Hand, astonished at the intelligence. S “Yes: their treaty is all lies; no blankets but old ones cut in two; their meat and flour rotten.” ‘‘ But they are only a ¥ “In the lava-beds they will fight like the old mountain-bear fights for her cubs,” GOmichboo