Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 394 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

: : : Ty : val . , ad ‘ “ > ras i] « _-_ ~ ~*~ f “a . ‘ - 7 * . “White Beaver, the Exile of the Platte. Instantly he drew his horse into a thicket, J \ 24. —---— ~~ ee ee ae it out against the tree, in spite of the effort to | “Five is a leetle too many, Pard Doc.” | prevent it on Brick’s part. ‘Not if I first get the drop, and take them ; and watched for coming events. Then covering the head of the negro with | by surprise.” . The clatter of the hoofs grew louder and his revolver, he said sternly: ‘Waal, yer weepins is ter be onloaded, | louder, which proved that the horses were i ‘* Hold it there as it is, or Vl kill you!” | tho’ they’ll look loaded, an’ ther ammunition ; coming toward him, for there were several The frightened black obeyed in terror, | they pretends ter give you is no good.” | animals that made the sound. while all looked on with real gusto, the chief ‘* Ah, that is bad.” He had not long to wait, when coming up }, nd asd fingers, without nipping the flesh. “ay remarking: | “If you harm that negro, Powell, your ~* life won't be worth a cent in my camp.’ Frank Powell smiled, raised his revolver , quickly, and four shots flashed forth, a wild yell greeting them, as the men rushed for- ward to find that a bullet had buried itself in the space between each one of the negro’s ‘You have doubtless ehanged your mind, ‘‘Yas, but I hes some good ammunition here fer yer, an’ I'll go out ter-night afore | goes ter roost, an’ leave ther cap’n’s repeatin’- rifle in ther holler o’ ther tree whar ther trail forks a mile below here, an’ you kin git thet | weepin.”’ ‘‘{ thank you most kindly, Jim, and some day hope to repay you.” ‘* You hes done thet, an’ I’d take nothin’ from yer, Doc, fer ef yer is my inemy, | is i the trail he beheld three horsemen riding at fuil speed, and yet urging their horses on with spur and voice. A glance showed him that he knew them. They belonged to the band of Red Angel outlaws, and were without doubt the men who were sent to take his life. But where were the other two, for Dead Knife Jim had told him that there were five in the party of assassins? 9 . . . “OR ’ . Brick, about my missing the tree,” remarked | yer friend.” He could have dropped one or more of the Surgeon Scout, in an off-hand way. ‘‘ Well, Jim, I have much to feel gratitude | them as they ran, but he would not fire from Ae “Yas, sah, I change my mind foreber-| to you for, and if you wish to give up this | an ambush upon them. more, massa,” and Brick grinned all over his face at his fortunate escape. % * ys and the latter had his weapon in his hand, so - During this scene Van, the outlaw, had _ stood with his revolver in his hand, and he would gladly have shot the Doctor; but he saw the eye of Dead Knife Jim upon him, he was forced to take the chances of a meet- ing with the Doctor, though the exhibition he had had of his skill did not reassure him of bis success. “Tl am ready,” said Surgeon Powell, pleas- ‘ . ¥ P. ‘ 3 cat antly, as he took the stand that the chief in- dicated. Ww J) 4 vm Sullenly Van took his stand, and the word was given by Captain Hyena, while the Red Angels ranged themselves in two rows on eitheir side of the combatants. Both were told to stand with their backs to each other, and at the word to wheel and .. ~ - « 4 ?.* 2 fire, until they emptied their revolvers, Frank Powell stood with an air of utter in- difference, while the outlaw seemed ill at ease, Their weapons were in their belts, and _ they were to stand with folded arms until the e he tei? ia f Kit cried: ' * ‘ . word. Such were the arrangements, Raising himself upon his elbow Captain 4“ Fire!” _ Almost with the word, so quick were the ~ movements of Doctor Powell, came the flash of his pistol, and Van, the outlaw, fell dead before he got his revolver to a level, the ‘ 4 clutch of his finger upon the trigger discharg- _ing the weapon, and the bullet burying itself in the brain of one of the outlaws, who was at the end of the line. Two at one shot,” cried Old Joe, while Captain Kit said: _ ‘Well Powell, you have won your free- dom, and you are at liberty to start in the morning.” ‘Thank you,” was all that the Surgeon Scout said, and he walked off to the shanty vhich had been his abode in the camp of the Red Angels, while these reckless spirits that had held him prisoner went on with their revel without a thought of their dead com- eve 2 , ; Pe CHAPTER XLVIII. eat A FRIEND IN A FOE. Frank Powe uu had thrown himself down > rest, little recking of the turmoil in the outlaw camp, and was sinking tosleep, when uddenly he awoke with a start. He was conscious of a human presence ar, and said sternly: _ “Speak, or I fire!’ Pit Waay, Pard Doc, easy, fer it are me,” me in a whisper. “Ah! it is you, Dead Knife Jim?” a ¥as, Doc.” Well, what is it?” _ ‘7 wishes ter give yer a leetle advice.” **T am listening.” - Some o’ ther boys hes been told ter am- sh yer in ther morning.” — * Tndeed?” _ ‘Yas, ther chief hain’t ther best man in her world, and he wants yer dead, and he sv told five o’ ther boys ter lay fer yer at er Willow Canyon, through which yer hes ter pass, and you is ter be shooted through ther heart, so jist go ’round by ther Antelope ay 0’ ther’river, an’ leave ‘em thar waitin’ er yer ontil they gits gray-headed.” ‘Il thank you, Dead Knife, most sincere- *» but as ‘I know of their little game, I’ve ialf a mind to go by the Willow Canyon and the assassins up a little.” cutlaw life you lead, come to me at the fort, and [’ll make an honest man of you.” ‘‘Tt would be harder ter thread a needle with a lariat, I guesses; but Ill keep yer offer in my brain-pan.”’ “Tf you get caught, any time, I'll try and cet the noose from around your neck, Jim.” ‘* Afore it chokes me ter death, Doc?” **Oh yes.”’ ‘*Thet are squar’, an’ I'll say good-by, an’ luck ter ver, onless yer shcots at me. ‘‘Here’s ther only grip yer hes left me, but it means squar’ when it clutches your hand ”’ Frank Powell grasped the hand of the out- law, and then lay down again to rest. But he was up with the dawn, his revol- vers were given to him by Brick, with the re- mark: ‘‘Massa tole me ter done gib you dese, Doctor; but he am sleepin’ dis mornin’ an’ | doesn't wish to disturb him.” ‘All right, Brick; say to him that some day I hope to meet him again,” answered the Surgeon Scout, well knowing that the negro was lying. Mounting his horse, he rode from the camp, the outlaws who were awake calling out to him: ‘*Good-by, Doc, an’ don’t let us catch yer ag’in.” “The bodies of Van and his brother outlaw still lay where they had fallen, and the Doc- tor cast a glance at them as he rode by. At the spot where the trails divided he found the hollow tree, and in it the rifle which the faithful Dead Knife Jim had placed there. Not wishing to go further with no loads in his revolvers, he examined them and saw that they had no powder in the cartridges. He soon had them loaded, however, and his horse feeling anxious to gO, he gave him the rein, heading straight for the Willow Canyon, in spite of the warning he had re- ceived from Dead Knife Jim. But there was a stern look upon his face, anda dangerous twinkle in his handsome black eyes, as though he was anxious to meet the ambushed assassins, and leave his mark upon them. CHAPTER XLIX. WELL MET. As Frank Powell rode along, disdaining to desert the trail through Willow Canyon be- cause he knew that deadly peril lay there in his path, all the venom of his nature was aroused against those who had plotted his death. They were fearful odds against him, he knew; but he was not one to count odds. They were murderers, renegades, and in- tended to shoot him down like a dog, so that he intended to plot to circumvent them, and make them the sufferers. He was well mounted, thoroughly armed, and had confidence in himself, which were big odds in his favor. They expected to take him by surprise, and he would turn the tables upon them, and thus hold another advantage. Arriving near the Willow Canyon, he wheeled abruptly to the left, and was about to make a flank movement by riding to the base of the hills, then leave his horse, go on foot over the ridge which the canyon severed in twain, and coming up in the rear of the outlaws, thus meet them. He had gone but a short distance when he heard the clatter of hoofs. \ ‘ ———$ a I That they were alarmed greatly was evi- ent. But what had so frightened them? Had the major at the fort sent a force to his rescue, and had his brother George tracked the outlaws to their lair in the hills? It might be so; but at any rate, Frank Powell, with all these thoughts flashing through his mind, decided to ride on and in- vestigate for himself. He therefore waited in his shelter until the outlaws dashed on out of sight, and then he rode on his way straight for the Willow Can- yon. Soon the steep walls of earth rose before him, with the stream running through them, its banks bordered with willows, and he paused, for again the sound of approaching hoofs reached his ears. The clattef was echoed back from the ean- ‘bs walls, resounding like the tramp of a undred horses, and Frank Powell cried: ‘*Troapers, as I live, for those hoofs are shod to give back that ringing sound, and consequently they are not Indians.” Listening still, he added: y ‘*No, there are but two horses, and the echo makes them seem to be more. ‘‘T have nothing to fear from two men, so shall wait.” A few moments more and those he waited so coolly for dashed into sight. They were riding hard, and yet their eyes fell upon Frank Powell as soon as he saw them. Instantly they drew rein, dragging their horses back upon their haunches for an in- stant. Then from the lips of the three men broke exclamations, and spurring forward quickly, they sprung from their horses, and each of the two grasped a hand of the Surgeon Scout. Had the reader seen those three men, as they stood there with clasped hands, he would have pronounced them a noble trio. Both of those who had so suddenly come up were men of fine bearing, the one tall, slender, wiry, straight as an arrow, with dark, expressive eyes, mild in repose, and full of fire in excitement. His movements were full of quiet grace, though quick, and with his jet-black hair hanging far down his back, bis buckskin suit, and broadc-brimmed slouch hat, he was one to attract attention in any throng. His companion was hardly more than the average hight of man, with a form that was perfect, and indicative of power and activity ina remarkable degree; he was clad also in a hunting-suit of buckskin, and showed that he was a thorough borderman, at home in the dress. His face was perfect in feature, and strik- ingly handsome; so handsome, in fact, with its dark-blue eyes, and his long waving hair, black as night, he might have passed fora beautiful brunette maiden in disguise were it not that the stamp of manhood, and all it implies, was impressed upon his features, to give the lie to effeminacy, that a first glance at him might suggest. Both men were well mounted, armed with rifles, a belt of arms, and a lariat, and the reader having met the taller one before, as Night Hawk Powell, the fort scout, 1 may as well introduce his companion as Broncho Bill, in other words, William Powell,* the youngest brother of the Surgeon Scout. * Both George and William Powell are now pbysi- cians and surgeons, practicing medicine in sin.—THE AUTHOR. ; | (E Gomicooo : ; A 2 se ; ’ . ‘ . P OR scon- | “> t—