Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 1158) (1905 02)
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hd anata leo See A Wo 1158. gmc Sol Ginger, THE GIANT TRAPPER; oO The Flower aie Blacktieet,. BY ALBERT W. AIKEN ’ AUTHOR OF “THE TWO DETECTIVES,” “ ABE COLT, THE CROW-KILLER,” ETC., ETS. CHAPTER I. THE EXPEDITION INTO THE BLACKFOOT COUN- TRY, On a bright afternoon in the month of June, almost all the inhabitants of the frontier post knownas Fort Benton, and located on the upper Missouri, gathered on the bank of the river to watch the approach of the first steamer of the season, through from 8t. Louis. On came the ‘ Mountain Belle,” the A 1 “stern- wheeler,” which, for many weary weeks to her impatierit passengers, had plowed her way through the turbid wa- ters of the great Missouri, the ‘Mad River of the North,” on her upward sage Fort enton, the head of navigation on the Missouri. A motley crowd were col- lected on the bank, waiting the approach of the steamer. Here and there among the throng might be seen the blue uniforms of Uncle Sam’s boys, the garrison of the fort; side by side with them, a swarthy red-skin, decked out in hunting-shirt and leggins of deer-skin, or wrapped in a coarse red blanket, although the sun’s rays were pouring down with torrid fierceness; the woolen-shirted emigrant, seeking for life and fortune in the Far West; the hardy frontier-men,the “ guides” of the prairie wilderness — in fine, all the classes that go to make up the life of our far western villages, were con- gregated on the bank of the river. The passe of the steamer, too, gathered in little knots, on the for- ward parts of the boat, and were very rly survey- ing the scene before them the starting-point to many of a new life. ere were to cast aside the ccemforts of dare Jy va wee rif | "ys. J. AWERS & CO., Publishers, (JAMES SULLIVAN, PROPRIKTOR), 379 Pearl Street, New York. | three thousand mounted warriors into the i field. It has got to be the fashion among the ‘‘spe- cial correspondents” of the daily newspapers, who make *“‘kid-glove” journeysto the frontier to write sneering accounts of the red-skins—o ‘“‘Mr, Lo,” as they term the savage; to say that they want courage, and that they could be easily crushed out, should the government bring its strong hand to bear upon them. ‘These reli- able writers pick out some drunken, vagabond Indian, hanging around the settlements, his senses steeped in bad whisky, and they hold him up to the gaze of the public as a sample of the American Indian! h! away with such de- ception! me, messieurs, who are termed ‘ ial correspondents,” but who, one “half the time, could be more. aptly termed ‘‘ special story-tell- / ers ’—buy a Henry rifle, a good navy revolver, one of Colt’s fine weapons, a hardy Indian pony, I y ame, Nae ace, | 7 hie nentiad XO’ rrr irs: ihe W Sd Aa lei A= Go Zoe, WX ans % Fes., 1905, . PRICE 5 CENTS. 50c. a year. — a. and take a gallop with me, three hundred mila» north-west from Cadotte’s Pass, up the valley of the Flathead river, right into the country of the Blackfeet—the nation that as yet have never yielded a single inch of their soil to the tread of the white man’s foot—a tribe that laugh to scorn the power of the ‘blue coated chiefs,” as they term the United States soldiers. In this trip we may encounter danger; nay, more, we shall encounter it; we shall owe our lives to the speed of our hors the sureness of our shots, and the distance tha a good repeating rifle will carry. And Monsieur Correspondent will eta convinced that the American Indian will figh after all,and that he can not be ‘‘ wiped out,” to use our frontier phrase, as easily as is gene+ rally supposed. But to return to our story. On the hurricane deck of the Mountain Belle stood two men, side by side. They were dress- ed roughly—big boots drawn on over their ants, and broad-brimmed ats pulled down over their brows in the western fashion, But, their hands and faces, though bronzed by the reve of the sun and tanned by the prairie winds, yet showed no marks of toll; One of the two he & man 0 ee oung; fifty years had pro ybly Sassen over his fead, yet time had_ touched him out lightly. His dark-brown hair, cut short, and brushed back from his temples, show- ed no silver locks, His face was massive and full; a broad forehead and square- cut chin, the chin half hid by a short, brown beard, gave it weight and firmness; his eyes were gray, bright and full; his glance kean and »enetrating. He was one of oe men who command re- spect even from strangers, is companion was a young man, not over twenty-five, a handsome, dashing-lookin fellow; jet-black hair curl in little ringlets all over his shapely, well-forme: head, His eyes were blac |. » hig hair; a on mi tac nd imperia ed his lip and chin: the abel face had. a laughing, devi! ire look about it, as thoug!: |» oy felt disposed to ish ; world as it came, ana ’ light of trouble, These two men, though now Sc ami fast friends and holding close converse together, before that morn- ing had never spoken to each other, althoug been travelers t St. Louis. A chance obser, vation from the elder to the ounger in relation to the pe being nearly at an end, and their tance bagan: es we Gad them they had / from
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a west un’ Psa Wiathead river, went a little south of the Ra — a li a *Do you stay in Fort Benton?’ asked the elder of the two, who was called Roderick Wee, of the younger; who answered to the name of Ha: Jourtney. “‘No, I shall push forward to the mines, as soon as i can find a train to journey with.” ‘Have you decided what mines you will try our fortune at?’ asked, Wright, ‘* No, it’s all one to me,” carelessly answered the other. ‘I shall go with the first party that start, no matter which way they journey. You see, 1’m a rolling stone, and it don’t make much difference where IJ settle down.” “Have you. ever been in this part of the country befvre?” asked the elder of the two. “Yes, once. A year ago I went through to Olympia, by the upper trail, with a party of emigrants. I went for the fun of the thing then, I had rad of money and wished to see the country; but now—” and here the speaker hesitated, and for a moment a cloud came over his face. “Well, what now?’ asked the other, looking to the young man’s face curiously: then no- ticing the hesitation of Courtney, he spoke ab- ruptly: ‘I beg pardon for my questions; I have no wish to | up ve pry into your affairs, and—” “Oh, it’s not that!” cried Courtney. ange to conceal, but—well, I may as well tell you about it. I don’t know how it is, but some way or another I’ve taken a liking to you; and, besides, it relieves a man’s mind to tell his troubles—not that I’ve had much trouble in my life. Six months ago, my father, who was a commission merchant in St. Louis, died very suddenly, and on winding up his affairs I dis- eovered that, instead of possessing an estate of fifty or a hundred thousand dollars, my father was bankrupt at the time of his death, and left me nothing. Being an only son, and my mother dying in my infancy, my father had made a pet of me—brought me up as a gentleman; s0, at his death, I was thrown upon the world help- less. The old raat who settled up my father’s estate, and who had known me from my boy- hood, asked me what I was going todo? Of course I answered that I n’t the remotest idea. He then offered me the loan of a hundred dollars, and peat that I had better take the first boat for Fort Benton, and try my luck at the mines. I accepted the offer with thanks. My story’s ended, and now you know why I stand here igs the hurricane-deck of the Mountain Belle, bound for the gold mines and a fortune.” . ‘‘Your history is a good illustration of our American life—up to y and down to-mor- row,” returned right; ‘but it’s a strange co- what you are going to do.” “Yes, exactly,” answered the young man. st Wall, I'm in the same fix,” said Wright, with a quiet smile py means of which I expect to make, at the least said that, meant I didn’t know ewactly where I was going, for I do know the direction.” Here the r pulled out of his pocket a small ma of the Western States and Territories. ‘* See!” he said, placing his finger on the little black sok manked Fort Benton, ‘“‘do you notice the pencil-ma*k leading from the fort?” » Courtney glanced at the map. A small line, evidently traced by a lead-pencil, led from F. Benton west by south, ¢ the Rock Mountains ugh Cadotte’s Pass, then went ecc™ hed been made, and the, words #2 at “it | operations is up along the Flathead river and its “I get the idea!” exclaimed the young man, suddenly. ‘You know of some gold mine up there that has not yet been worked, and out of “T can’t guess your riddle,” said the young man, after a moment’s thought; ‘‘soI give it up, but I wish you success in your under- ‘What do you say to going with me?” asked Wright. ‘What, go with you?” questioned Courtney in astonishment. ‘‘Yes. You have said-that you haven’t any settled plan as to what you will do; join me then; I need just such a man as you, for the ef- fort for the treasure I am about to steal from the Indians will probably be resisted to the death by every red devil that claims kindred with the Blackfoot nation.” “There is danger, then?” asked Courtney. “Plenty of it; we shall risk our top-knots ev- ery hour after we are fifty miles northward from Elk City,” answered Wright. ‘* But, if you succeed, you gain fifty thousand dollars?” 4c Yes.” “Well,” said Courtney, after a moment’s pause, ‘it’s worth the risk.” ‘** And if I succeed, and you join me, of course I'll give you ten thousand dollars,” said Wright, uietly. “You will?” cried Courtney, in amazement, | “Yes; is it a bargain?’ **¢You bet!’ as a Californian would say,” cried Courtney, extending his hand. “You will join my expedition, then, after this something, worth fifty thousand dollars?” asked Wright, ing Courtney’s hand. “Yes; I’m with you to the death!” answered Courtney; ‘though what you are going to find up in the Blackfoot country worth fifty thou- sand dollars unless it’s a gold mine, I can’t “Never mind; I know well what I seek,” said Wright, “and you may rest assured that I am pretty sure of succeeding, else I should not risk my life.” a Do you and I form the whole party?” asked the young man. ; “Oh, no!” said Wright. ‘I know nothing whatever of the Indian country and very little of Indian fighting, of which we shall probably have plenty before we get through with our ex- pedition. I intend to procure a couple of guides, | men who know the upper region and are used to the Indian ways. Our mission must succeed by cunning, not by force; therefore we need skiiful peer who ean pilot us through, right into the lackfoot country and yet keep us out of the” way. of the Indians.” “Your idea is a geod one; our party will be a small one then!” “Yes; four or five only, not more; two or three guides will be sufficient—careful, prudent men. Id like to get hold of some old trapper, some shrewd old fellow, who knows the country - thoroughly.” “* By Jove!” cried Courtney, I know the very “You do?” exclaimed Wright. ‘Ves; an old fellow Imet when I was through he? “They call him Sol, the Trapper; he’s a Coal ts, Soee fellow, stands about six feet high and has the longest pair of legs that I ever saw on mortal man. In fact, I believe the In- dians call, him ‘ Longlegs; he’s a quiet, civil old codger, a great contrast to the usual blustering mitier-man.” = : ‘“‘He’s the man, then, I judge, for our pur- pose,” said base gh : BES : “Yes, I should think he would suit.” “Does he know the Blackfoot eountry?” _ “Like a book,” answered Courtney. ‘‘He’s a tra , as his name signifies, and his field of drinkers stood an man add —something singular in these frontier-men, why. generally value an Indian’s life with that of » mad-dog. He refused to go with our party be- ~ cause the Blackfeet were on ‘the gers w against the settlements, and he said that we were a large party, bloodshed could not be avoided, and he didn’t wish to have any man’s | blood upon his soul if he Gould help-it.” ‘‘Isn’t the man a coward?” ‘““That’s exactly whatsome of our party asked, but one of the guides whom we had engaged te go with us laughed at the idea, To use his own words, ‘Old Sol could whip his weight in wikd- cats any day in the week, when he got started.” As I take it, it’s a whim of his not to shed hu- Mg blood, white or red, if he can live without it. ~ * And yet,” said Wright, thoughtfully, “if he traps on the Flathead river he must encounte: a Blacktoot Indians, for .it is in their coun- ry. ‘ ‘Very likely,” returmed Courtney; ‘ but he’: probably cunning enough to keep out of theiz way.” He's the man then for me, if he’ll only con- sent to go with us.” **T think he'll go, provided we asstirehim that we want to avoid encountering the savages if sible.” “Of course,” seepeniee Wright, ‘we must steal our treasure; but if tee weasure refuses to go we must carry it away by force.” “Tf the treasure refuses!” cried Courtney, in amazement. ‘ The treasure you speak of, then, is alive and has a voice in the matter?” “Yes; but the will or voice of the treasure will have little weight with me, once it is with- in my power,” said Wright, gazing at his eom- panion with one of his peculiar bafiling smiles, ‘Well, I must confess I don’t understand what it can be!” said Courtney. ‘“‘Have patience, and by the time we strike the Flathead river, you shall know my plans as well as I do myself.” “T suppose I shxli have to rest satisfied with that assurance.” “But, are you certain that we shall ke able to find this Sol, the Trapper, on our arrival here?” questioned Wright. ‘Very little doubt about that; it’s just about the time he brings in his peltries, and if he hasn’tarrived yet, all we have to do is to wait for him.” : -“ But suppose he has come and gone?” asked es ‘No fear of that; he generally lays off a month or so after each trip for rest, I think we shall be certain to find him.” “Thope so,” answered Wright, ‘for, frons your description, he’s the very man I want.” “T think he'll fill the bill; butsee, we’re mak- ing a landing.” And as he spoke the steamer ran its bow on the shore, and the loud whistle ringing out clear on the pore air, proclaimed oe ange of the first t through from St, uis. Tho ngers soon mingled with the crowe Sante the news from the East was eagerly asked for and the newspapers brought by the boat saree seized by the impatient throng. As Wright and Courtney descended from the hurricane-deck. and entered the main saloon, they paused for a moment in front of the bar of the boat, where a thirsty throng were eagerly drinking, taking the raw whisky down with true western gusto. At a little distance from the S ) Indian, wrapped from head to foot in a coarse red blanket, while a battered white hat crowned his head. The red-skin sur: veyed the thirsty imbibers with an envious air, Evidently he panted for the “‘ fire-water,” which his face and gait plainly told he had drank too much of Bieegr ‘Let us inquire of one of those fellows if oid Sol is in,” said Courtney. ‘‘Very well; doso.” . Courtney approached a rough-looking fellow in a dirty flanvel shirt and a slouch hat, who had just tossed down a glass of whisky, of the | “tanglefoot” brand, and was smacking bis lips at the flavor of the fiery beverage. -“Can you tell me if So}, the Trapper, is in town?” Courtney asked. ‘ “Stranger, you've got me!” exclaimed the ressed. Pm just in from ‘m in _. Courtney “Never heerd tell on him. 1. }
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5 a nT a RA A TR An SN aT HAART a a on ve chief fire-water—rum—want to see Old Bol—s’ you come, you see!” And the sav- without waiting for a reply, immediately the way, with an Mdecertaias heavy. step, down the stairway, . “Shall we go?’ asked ‘Courtney of his com- panion.. Yes: he evidently knows where the trapper is to bo found.” So, down the stairway after the drunken In- dian who had proclaimed his name to be ‘‘ Mud- hole,” and had asserted his right to be a a chief, went Courtney the adventurer, and - erick Wright, the man with the iron will, who sought a living treasure, worth fifty thousand dollars, in the country of the Blackfeet. CHAPTER II. THE GIANT dagetle ome - "THE sav led tho way over the gang-p to the ene Wright and Courtney followed, The bank gained, the Indian paused for a mo- ment till the two whites came up. “White chief find Longlegs—give Indian rum —ugh?” asked the chief, eagerly. ‘*'Yes,” answered righ ; ‘go ahead.” “Mudhole big chief. __S’pose you come.” And on went the Indian, while the whites followed in his track, . The red-skin led the way ap the bank through the town, past the fort, and finally stopped at a small whitewashed shanty, that stood apart from the other houses on’the outskirts of the “Old Sol wigwam—ugh—rum!” and the sav- age extended hishand. ** Call him,” said Wright, suspecting that the Indian had misled them, and promised what he was unable to perform, in order to obtain the coveted rum, “Ugh! Chief no like Old Sol! Big stick— wallop Mudhole when chief drink rum. Rum good—stick bad—chief no like stick, heap !” “Tt is evident that this Indian is a hanger-on to, Old Sol, and that the trapper thrashes him when he indulges in whisky,” said Courtney. “Tt would seem so; but, the fellow may be lying,” replied Wright. ““Give Indian rum?” questioned the savage, im: ently. Hullo!” broke in a savago voice, and the door of the shanty opened suddenly, disclosing to view the figure of a man standing about six feet high, and of a broad and powerful build, attired in a hunting-shirt and leggins of deer- n, the color of which had once service, too, as the many rents and tears, now patched particolored pieces, iin The of the man was a was lar ly it been broken by some heavy blow. His eyes were a dark blue in color—so dark that at first lance they would be called black; his bair wan Bri ht red in hue, and was cropped tight to his heat A thin ted beard covered the long, ted chin. High cheek-bones, with the s wn tightly over them, and you have the pen- picture of Sol Ginger, the Giant Trapper, gene- rally called by the whites “ Old Sol,” and by the red-skins ‘‘ Longlegs”—the man who had trapped over every inch o from the Snake river on the South to the river of the North; the man, too, who feared to shed human blood— who would rather go ten miles out of his way than slay a red-skin brave, ba’ who was known throughout the mountain region as the best shot, the roughest rider, and the keenest woodman that ever tra fe pore or put a ball through a mountain elk at a hundred paces. . Drunk ag’in, by hookey Period the trapper, as his eyes fell upd the face of the redoubtable Mudhole, bein Ae blinking like an owl, in a vain attem) appear sober. ‘ Mudhole. big chief No like rum heap!” stammered the savage, in defense. “You lie, you drunken cuss you!” exclaimed the trapper. ‘‘ Rum! it's mother’s milk to you, you long-legged son of a e tree! Do you s’pose I'm goin’ to tote round any sich w “ e one: his nose tub as you air, dod rot you?’ cried the trapper, fg RE d sh ‘ i ’ ea ee thi , n pishly at this Lope sagt > , hooked like an eagle’s beak; evident-_ | “Cos, if ted step. ’nough to make half the people that gits it imps Sol Ginger. savage, thinking by the compliment to appease the angry trapper. “You mud-colored heathen, your own legs air a heap sight longer nor mine. You'll ’scuse me, gentlemen, but this ’ere Indian’s enough to rile the stomach of a dead b’ar. He’s the most ornery cuss you ever heerd tell on. ~- In two minutes arter he strikes a settlement he’s as drunk as an eel in a pot,” said the trapper, turning to the two strangers; ‘‘ but, walk in, strangers. Ef you want to see Sol, the Trapper, I s’pect ’'m the man, as the ae say, to the best of my knowledge and belief,” “Tf you are Sol, the Trapper, you are the very man we want to see,” said Wright. ‘Wal, come into my ranch, strangers, an’ you, you durned; copper-colored, no-souled crit- ter you, ef I.ketch you hangin’ up by the nose round any rum-shop, you an’ T’ll cry quits, Jes’ you bear that in mind.” *‘Mudhole big chief. Fight rum—enemy!” said the drunken savage. ‘*Jes’ so; though an Injun, you foller the Scripters, don’t ye? ‘Love yer enemies,’ you mutton-headed son of a rattlesnake?” And with this parting salutation hurled at the offending chief, the rerper led the way into his shanty. Wright and Courtney followed; the Indian stretched himself out before the door, despite the hot beams of the sun pouring down upon him. The interior of the trapper’s abode was as plain as the outside. The furniture consisted of a little pine table, a common rocking-chair, and half a dozen boxes of various sizes, that served as tables and closets, and held the sim- ple cooking-utensils of the hunter. In one cor- ner stood a Henry repeating rifle, splendidly ornamented with silver on the stock; in another, one of the old-fashioned rifles, with a-barrel of esc Seep length, and carrying a ball of a hun- red to the pound. Suspended from a nail by a cord was a buck-horn handle hunting-knife, long, broad, heavy and sharp—no child’s play- thing for holiday use, but the forest weapon, keen and true. Hanging to nails on the walls in various places, were the traps of Old Sol, the tools of his trade, the deadly agents that had taken the life of many a beaver and muskrat by the side of the swift-flowing rivers of the great North-west. “Sit down, strangers,” said the trapper, after they had entered the shanty, ‘‘I ain't got much furniture, ’cos you see my home is the wilderness. I rough it thar, an’ in course I si it hyer too,” “a right and Courtney sat down upon the x es. “Wal, what is it? S’pose I’m open fur a trade,” said Sol, -.‘*T wish to make an excursion into the Black- foot wine pal In fact, go up the valley of the Flathead river, and I wish a guide. Will you ee the position?” asked Wright. ‘What on airth do you want up thar?” asked Sol, in amazement, * That's my secret,” replied Wright, with a smile. ‘Will you gowith me?” “Wal, I don’t know. How many be thar in ur party?” asked the trapper. : Two only; my friend here and myself.” Ry fs want to go into the Blackfoot co a“ Yes ” “But, creation! it’s almost certain death. Don’t you know, stranger, that the Blackfeet are deadly enemies to the whites?” asked the Giant i _“* Yes, I know that; but still, I wish to go right into the heart of the Blackfoot country. ‘Nay, more, [ shall probably have to penetrate secretly into their villages.” “T think I git your idee: you want a guide that kin carry you through the country without havin’ to fight the Injuns every step.” “That’s my idea exactly. T[ have been told that you know the country well, and are a pru- dent, careful man—one not inclined to run heedlessly into danger. Understand me, I wish to avoid encountering the savages if possible, My errand must be successful through eanning, not through force,” ** You ain’t arter a gold mine, air you?” asked the hunter suddenly. -— “No,” answered Wright. | . you were, I wo lan’t stir a dod-rot- s gold ’nough now in the world, — of a ing olse ] “Be assured itis not gold but something else I Brows Pome | Rm 80; some friend of yourn has been cap- si —— je a Se tee aE Seegel = Bes nimi l lh Be sh whether they are dead ow alive. Be Ar Dee Ree eee eA ee eat See ee eee Wright started; the shrewd trapper had half gucanet his secret. “Yes; you have guessed the truth, Will you go as guide?” ‘“‘ Sartin,” replied the trapper, quickly. ‘‘ Guess I won't hold back’when a feller-critter’s in dan- ger, When I do, you kin jist take the hide right off'me, an’ tan it for moccasins. ‘What will the service be worth?’ auked bah 3 “Vl tell you better when we git back; but mind, now, we ain’t to do any fighting ef we kin help it. You see, it goes ag’in’ =, grain to — blood, human blood, whether it’s ved or white. “Weare not eager to run into danger,” re- plied Wright; “but, would it not be as well to take another mountain man with us? My friend and I know very little of woodcraft.” “Sartin, an’ ’ve got jist the man.” ‘You have?” ‘Fact, by hookey!” cried the trapper, “That drunken Injun, Mudhole, fotched you ‘up hyer, didn’t he?’ “ec Yes.” ‘“‘ He’s the very identical critter that we want to go along with us.” - ‘What, that drunken brute?’ cried Court ne y. ** Jes’ so; but he don’t get drunk arter he leaves the settlements. He’s the best guide that ever follered a trail. Nary foot of sile tween hyer an’ the Lake of the Woods that he don’t know jist as well in the darkness as in the light, He’s been a partner of mine now, nigh onto three years. I picked him yA in Fort Ben- ton, bout three years ago. He’d come to town, got drunk, an’ been beat almost to death by some of the river-men. I took him home hyer{ cured him, an’ he’s follered me like a dog evet since. EfI could only keep him away from the cussed whisky, I wouldn’t ask for a bette him, he ain’t worth shucks,” ; ‘But away from the settlements, you say, he is perfectly stworthy,” said Wright. ‘Jes’ so; ef he ain’t, kick me to death with cripples, He’s jist old chain-lightnin’ in the In- jun country. hen shall we start un our expe- dition?” ** As goon as ible,” replied Wright. * Wal, I ain’t got nothing to hinder me, so we'll take the trail to-morrow morning "bout four. Any ticular part of the Blackfoot coun- try*you want to go to?” ; ‘Yes; to the village of the White Wolf.” ** Jes’ so! I know the critter. He’s one the top dogs among the Blackfeet. Nigh onto five hundred warriors in his village. He’s a deadly enemy of the whites. About ten years he jist worried the settlements along border hyer like Old Scratch. Lordy! I remember time he come down on Elk City—it were only a leetle ranch then—like a thousand of brick. It were the toughest old fight you ever did see.” “ He’s the chief whose village I seek,” said bids ; ‘Wal, I'll put you through thar, or my name ain’t Solomon. But now, strangers, you want to. fix your traps, for it’tain’t a pi goin’ onto. t any hoss?” Wright replied in the negative. ~ ni We I know a couple eap cheap, as m dJ would sa f * ‘ : ‘“Mudhole!” said Courtmey. ‘“ That’s a strange name fora chief.” | Robe Ta. ‘* Jes’ so! Some of the river-men named him, ‘cos he was always drunk, an’ ginerally lay around loose in the mud.” Wright. “ Stran ou’ve got me; I don’t know. He thinks a gene of me, and I think would t to. the death for me every time; but he ie tell the name of histribe. I had an idee. that he were a Blackfoot, but one day down in the vil- PE ne ee a aedigh killed one of ‘ems afure ackfoo an 1 one of ’eme they pulled him off, an’ of course he wouldn't do that ef he were a Blackfoot, ’cos of course | “i dog won’t eat dog. Eqhat’s very true,” said Wright. 8 “Tn course; it’s human natur’,” sagel: ‘replied oe come back dh ino the trapper. ‘‘ But, to ton, you want, es the hosses, a couple of ood revolvers, a rifle, a r ting one ef kin git ies if you're close pressed, them . “ My friend has a Colt’s “yif_le, and] a Henry,” said Wright. Fs soups meee “Them will, ! Thar’s a critter; but when the durned ruxn gets inté - cnic we're mies you kin aT inte aoe “What tribe does he belong tof” asked ght with some Injuns of the _
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ss “ It’s a beautiful weapon,” said Courtney, pick- ing it up and. looking at it. ‘Jos’ so! It’s a present from old Col. Buck- ner. He were cut off from his command by the , Blackfoot Injunsin the Flathead valley, when i he:were- on .a seouting expedition. I were up thar trapping beaver, an’ ha poened to run across him. Things were rough, I tell you; the red devils were round as thick as ’skeeters in a swan». [ thought our top-knots were gone two or taree times; but, Lordy! we managed to = right through em slick as a whistle! The ol colone! were tickled to death. He said he thought né should never see the white settle- ments ag'in, an’ he gin me that Henry as a sort of rermeimbiance like, I didn’t think much of it at first, with all the gingerbread work onto it; but when I come to try it, an’ found out how many shots a minute [ could fire with it, an’ that it would carry further than my old rifle thar, I kinder concluded it wasn’t a bad friend to have in the wilderness.” “T should say not,” said Wright; ‘‘ but, sup- pose vve go and look after those ponies you spoke of. The sooner we set out the better.’ ‘Jes’ so! You're right thar,” said the trap- r, emphatically, ‘We'll jist go arter the Sesion it our traps together—an’ we want to travel lieht, gentlemen—an’ at four in the morning we'll ~ among the missin’.” Tie trapper rose from his seat, conducted bis ests oub of doors, fastened the door carefully hind him, for, as he explained: > “ Henry rifles air scarce up hyer, an’ some . no-souled critter might captivate mine e/ I left Beek the shanty open,” ¥ T.>, Indian, Mudhole, whom we left asleep «cre the door, had disappeared. ‘Tao durned red cuss has gone arter rum @ia. o's a pesity cuss, he is, arter fire-wa- ey. We'll find him down in the village, hang- ny round some of the rum-shops,” said the ey tiant Trapper, leading the way to the village. Wright and Courtney followed him. A few minutes’ walk brought the trio to a ' shanty oceupied as a general store, and where a small assortment of almost every thing was i ept, Entering the store, Sol inquired for the r4 roprietor, who soon made his appearance—a q large ull-bearded fellow. “From the trader Wright and Courtney purchased two hardy x nies, ; ‘t Sheet-iron, gents!” as the trader remarked, - referring to the horses. aed, — money was paid over and the trade com- leted. ; are Send the animiles up to my ranch, an’ have ‘em tied outside,” said Sol. ** Better not,” said the trader, f = Why not?” asked the Giant Trapper. 2 ’ “Don’t think it’s safe,” replied the .trader. «Thar’s a lap of Injuns in town, an’ the two- legged brutes will be patty apt to steal any thing in the way of hoss-flesh they kin lay their ted yen? on,” * What tribe?” asked Sol. “I don’t know—an ugly set of devils. Guess Blackfoot, barry ,” replied Sol; ‘‘ they don’t n” “That ain’t likel often come in hyer.’ ; _ “Maybe not, said the trader; ‘ but, I advise you nob to leave your hosses around loose.” “Nuff sed,” replied the trapper, laconivally ; “a wink’s as good as a nod to a blind hoss, We'll call fur the hosses as we come back.” Then he led the yay.to the street again. In the street he turned to his companions. ** Let’s go an’ take a look at these ’ere Injuns. Ef thoy air Blackfoot—which I doubt—we may get some information from ’em in regard to the village of the White Wolf. You see, these In- uns shift their villages about, jist as the game leaty or scarce,” So, down the street went the three. When / al PP he) . 7 4 Ha ei’ « ger wigs 6x adap wick wall Ff PGC 2 ay PRR OD SP = ee et ae _ they arrived opposite to where the steamer la the one that. Rad brought Wright and Co ye ey—they noticed a little knot of people gather- ~ iin front of one of the to “ Jes’ so. an’ ef I don't succeed, Jes’ | ‘ou wal- Log Sgsake ” said Sol, with a ~ ha Beadle's Hal idlers, the Giant trapper, followed by the.two adventurers, entered the.store. CHAPTER IIt. ONE AGAINST SIX. fnstpE the little stone stood three Indians—as usual wrapped up tightly in their blankets. Before them lay a small pack of peltries, for which they wished a supply of powder and lead. Two of the Indians were men, the third was a° woman, and, as is usual with the squaaws when visiting the settlements, she had her blanket drawn tightly over her head, almost concealing her face from view; yet, from the glimpse that | could be caught of it through the opening of the blanket, one would have pronounced the squaw to be both young and handsome» As Sol and the two adventurers entered the store, the Indians and the trader were engaged in a brisk discussion as to the value of the furs —the trader not being willing to give the price demanded for them by the Indians. Courtney’s eyes were earey attracted by the young squaw; and with a natural curiosity, he drew near to her, anxious to get a better view of her features. She, perceiving the move- ment, and guessing the object, drew the blanket still closer, so that only her coal-black eyes, brilliant as stars, could be seen. At the entrance of the Giant Trapper and his companions, the Indians bent a piercing glance upon them, and the elder chief—a huge brave, and very dark in color—said a few words in the Indian tongue to the younger chief. The words evidently had some. reference to the trapper, as the young chief looked at him from head to foot. For a moment, then, both the Indians turned their attention to the furs again. ‘“*How air you, Martin?’ said Sol, nodding to the trader. “Sol, you’re the very man 1 want to see!” cried the trader, who answered to the name of Martin, ‘‘ Give us your judgment hyer. What’s these peltries worth?” Sol drew near and examined the skins care- fully. As he did so, he gave yent to a low whistle of astonishment. The Indians noticed the whistle, and exchanged glances of alarm. The elder looked toward the door, as if seeking an avenue of escape. ‘** Well, Sol,” said the trader, ‘‘ what are they worth?” “Wal, I don’t exactly know; that depends, in course, on the state of the market,” said the trapper, slowly, and then he turned his eyes up- on the Indians, ‘‘ Whar did you trap these hyer, eh?’ 4 ‘* Big river,” said the elder chief, extending his hand in the direction of the north fork of the Missouri. * Oh!” said the frappes, and there was an ex- ression of doubt in his tone. ‘Is the chief a lackfoot?” he asked. _ “No,” replied the Indian; “ Crow!” ‘‘That’s a lie,” said the trapper to himself; then he continued his questions: ‘** Does my brother know a Crow chief named White Wolf?’ and the trapper bent his keen eyes full upon the face of the Indian as he spoke. “In spite of the almost impenetrable mask of stolid- ity that the savage wore upon his features, a slight expression of astonishment, not unmixed pice alarm, appeared upon his face at the ques- on. _ White Wolf,” the Indian said, slowly. ‘ No Oe chief nae hab ek! a See t is so, by ry! enly cried the tra r, in great paonishiient: wheter real or at ected we leave the reader to guess. ‘I mean a Blackfoot chief. His ete is up on the Flat- head river, near the Great Cafion. wonder how I came to forgit it, ’cos I were a-trappin’ up thar last spring, an’I lost a pack of skins jist about the size and heft of this hyer, in a raal curious manner. In course ef you air a Crow you don’t know nothin’ ’bout it at all:” and the trapper looked at the Indians in a comi- cal way, a broad grin ys ae his. features, and yet, toa close observer, there was anything but a pleased look in his eyes. ‘““¢anmder!” cried the mean w say that they went for you, Sol?” “You can take the bide right off my oe e ’t the iongest pair o’ legs that were ever on mortal man, my top-knot would be hangin’ in White Wolf’s wigwam this ’ere very minute.” * You don’t say so!” cried the trader, in amazement. “Sartin sure! I run a foot-race with ’em res et Cafion down to Dead Man's | , an’ I only come the trapper’s * f-Dime Library. I swow! I. trader; “you don’t | out a neck ahead ”— | “Sun go soon,” said the elder Indian, who evidently felt ill at ease. ; skins, Injun take what white man say—so much,” and the chief held up his fingers to de note the amount. ‘“* A trade’s a trade,” said the trader, “ I reck- on I won’t back out of my wor d, Hyer’s your powder and lead, chief,” and the trader pro- duced the articles, ** Good!” said the Indian, eagerly securing the articles aLout his person. ‘“Injun get more skins; ccme see ¥. hite Lrctkerag’in,” — * You won't git any mcie skins the way you got those, witLout Levin’ a fght {tr ’em, red- skin,” said the Giant Trapper. All looked at him in an azcment. ‘What the deuce co ycu mern, Sol?’ asked the trader, in astonishment. “Only a jcke, that’s all,” said. the trapper, uietly, “ The chief understands, Gcn’t you, - But if the Indian understood, he didn’t wait to say so, ‘How?’ said the chief, as a parting saluta- tion, as he yassed through the door, followed by tke cther krave and the squaw. “See you ag’in, Martin,” said Sol, following the Indians, and signing to Wiight and Court- ney to follow him. “All right; drop in,” said the trader, as they passed through the door,’ Once in tLe street, Sol looked around for the Indians. His quick eye sccn discovered them some little cistance down te eticet, going to- ward the cutskirts of the tuwn, ard hurrying sere as if fcarful cf pursuit. “You crssed red niggers, you! I'd like to know what you eir erter,” said &cl, tLrowing a glance of Latred tcward the 1ed-ckins, Do you know them?’ asked V right. “Wal, I kin meke a shrewd guess Lcut em. You saw that air pack cf pe traded in the store?” “cc Yes ” ‘TI trapped every Curned cne on con.” ‘* You did” seid V\ right, in astcnisbment, “Ef it ’tain’t so, take me by the kack of the neck and shake me 1ight cut of my mcggasins,” cried the trapper. * But, if they are your skins, Low come the Indians by them?” asked Ccurtney. “Why, I were a-trappin’ up in the Blackfoot country, an’ the red devils went fur me fur all I were woith jist then. They gct my skins, but I went over the airth so thurdein’ fast,] ci¢n’t haye time to stop en’ Ieave «ma lock of my ha’r,” said the trappcr, with a grin. ‘But these fellows are C1 ows,” added Wright. : ; “Crows! wah!” cried tke traryer, in a tone of contempt. “So amT a Crow! ‘Thar ain’t no a "bout them / Thar Bleckfoot frum ha’ eel, ** Blackfoot!” cried both the adventurers in as- tonishment. “* Jes’ so. Ef they ain’t, jes’ shave my head an’ swallow me hull,” said the trapyer, making this singular prepesal with a grin. It is rer- haps needless to 1«mark that neither of his «cm- Par But if they are Blackfoot: tsdiidul hat u ey are Blackfoot Indians, what are they doing lere, end why should they den eh a cri é treyper in astcnishment “ didn’t I find ike 1ed Lenibens with my yeltries in their fore-paws!—the very blessed ckins that I trapped this ‘cre spring on the Flathead river, near the Great Caf.on, and that these red snakes run me away frcm, durn tke’r dcd-rotted cop- per-colored ? I knowed every peltry; nary one thar but’s got my mark onto it, an’ of course they air goin’ to git out of the scrape if mer kin; but they ain’t a-goin’ to say right out that they air Bl oot; right afore me.’ ~ “ But why didn’t you claim the skins?’ asked w “6 t the rn i the "beat. of them this ; an ef Nag 3 Sr apa the best hoss they've’ got in ry and I dow Just at this moment, the tall Indian who had cera tee conversation in the trading “Tf white. chief want. es that they
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ae) “a SELES ta Sh RR ERR RN RTS EH A Sn RRR RRP RE . Sol Ginger. “Ugh! Longlegs is watching us,” he cried, ix the Blackfoot language, addressing his com- panion, P The white dog knows us!” returned the other, “Yes, perhaps; if he follows us he will dis- cover our prise the w ites.” “Let us go baek and stay in the town till | night; then we can steal away without notice,” said the smaller of the two. “The Red Hand speaks with tongue; itis good. Tie chiefs of the Blackfeet will wait for their chief till the ground is dark,” , ““ White Bird,” he con- | “keep your | replied the elder chief, tinued, addressing the squaw, blanket about your face; let not the white chiefs see the face of the Flower of the Blackfeet.” 80, with slow steps, the Indians bent their way azain to the village. ‘* They are returning,” ** Jes’ so!” said Sol. *‘ ed, you bet; but, we want some crackers and fixings fur our journey; we'll see these critters ag’in afore we reach the Great Caron on the Flathead, or I’m a sucker.” So the trio moved off toward the trading-store again. Courtney, however, had determined to seo the face of the squaw if possible, The glimpse he had caught of her bright, shy black éves had thrilled him to thesoul. Youth is im- pulsive. Already he was half in love with the young squaw, whose eyes alone he had seen, ut who was—he was convinced—both young and beautiful. So, when his companicns. en- coe the store, he remained outside and kept is €yes upon the Indians, The two braves and the squaw came slowly along, as if unconscious that their movements cried Courtney. were watched, but they knew it full well, for | the keen eyes of the elder chief had detected the form of the young man standing in the door- way, an‘ his glances toward them. The Indians | went down the street till they came to where a little clamp of trees cast a shadow upon the uud. In the shade of these trees they sat Own, apparently unconscivus of al that was | goin on around them, “Pd give a few dollars to see that girl’s face and have a few words with her, Indian though she is,” said Courtney to himself, as he looked long and wistfully at the coarse rel planket tha’ concealed the form and face of the Indian Courtney's attention was diverted from the | Blackfeet by a drunken yell coming from one of | : | then plunged into the saluon from whence thew) the numerous drinking shops up the street, by the river-bank. The first yell was followed by a second, and then half a dozen fellows, evi- dently flushed with Equor, came from one of the saloons and reeled down the street toward the Indians. There were six or seven in the party—roush customers they were, too; river- men, gamblers, and one or two mountain men. ‘1 hope the drunken brutes won't trouble the girl,” said Courtney to himself, as he beheld the crowd advancing; but, as he expected, the mo- ment one of the drunken fellows bebeld the yp tinder the trees, he called the attontion of is companions to the Indians, : **Hfere’s some cussed red-skins, an’ a squaw too!” shoute1 the foremost one of the gang, heading directly for the trees. Courtney, too, advanced the drunken gan ; if mapeeeary “Say, old eal shouted the leader of the rough fellows, as he gotnear the Indians, ‘‘ take your kiver off and Jet us see your pretty red ce, can’t you?” All of the Indians rose to their feet; the hands of the chiefs sought the handles of their | ee beneath their hlankets; a fight was at (Reader, this is the way one-half of our In- dian wars begin. The I-dian comes into our frontier scttlemen and steel along the wholes line of the border.) “Tear the blanket off, Dick, if she won’t show her face,” shouted another of the gang. “JT will, you bet!” replied the ringleader of the party, who had been addressed as Dick; and he as though india sped bef uaw with a long, glittering knife in his hand. e rough bully recoiled before the determined ‘of the red chief, - ‘White man drink heap fire-water. Go yey Rs touch Indian!” said the chief, in a e, this unexpected check to their amusement, and defeat our plans to sur- | a straight | I'll keep my eyes peel- | peacefully and well-be- | haveil; hé is abused and outraged by some | drunken ruffians, and, in return, he carries fire | vanecd with outstretched hand to- | ward the Indian girl; but, with a motion quick | the elder Indian stepped before the | the rage of the crowd knew no bounds. Knives and pistols were instantly drawn, and flourished furiously by the rough fellows. “Cut his heart out, Dick!” ‘Shoot the blasted Injuns!” ‘Kill ’em!” were the cries that came trom the crowd as they brandished their weapons. With a large portion of the | frontier settlers, the Indian is regarded as an object to be put out of the way as scon as possi- ble. But, as the hostile, drunken crowd swayed toward the red-skins, Courtney, with revolver in hand, cocked and leveled at them, stcp).ed to the side of the Indians, and again checked the advance. * What the blazes do you want?’ growled the bully, Dick, anxiously seeking to get outside of , the line of the six-shooter, yet not wishing abso- | lutely to retyeat, | Allow me to ask you the same question: | ‘what the blazes doy uw want’?" replied Court- ney, With a calm, quiet voice, carefuily turning the revolver in the direction of the rough lef nearest to him by Dick’s retreat. That worthy | no sooner had perceived the muzzle of the revol- | vor turned in his direction, and taken a single glance into the shining tube, than he instantly | executed a retrograde wovement, which brought | him up in a safe position in the rear of all the rest of the party: “We want to cut the heart out of this cursed , Injen!” howled the fellow left nearest to Court- | ney by the retreat of Dick and the second rough. ‘Oh, you do, do you?” asked Courtney, in a leasant, quiet way, leveling the revolyer full at | his head. “Yes, we—” and here the speaker caught sight of the six-shooter, capped and leveled full | at hishead. This sight caused him to pause in ) his speech; a glance around at his comrades dis- closed the astounding fact that they were gradu- ally retreating beyond the range of the weapon, | and that he was left confronting the deadly tubes alone. No man rushes heedlessly upon death, untess he is a madman; so, after another glance at his companions, the last ruffian com- ' menced backing toward them. ‘Pil see you ag’.n!” muttered the rough,.re- | treating a little faster. ** All right; come and see me often,” respond- ed Courtney, bending down his h a little to one side, as if drawjng a “ bead ” on the rctreat- ing man, who, perceiving the movement, incon- tinently turned his back, and his retreat quick- ened into a run, until he had joined his com- panions, The drunken fellows shook their fists ercely for a minute or so at Courtney, ang | came. six-shooter, put to flight half a dozen fellows, several of whom were armed fully as weil as himself. Courtney turned to the Indians. ‘White chief heap brave! heart big! Injun | think much, speak little. When time comes, . Injun pay white chief, seq 2b no tell now,’ said the tall chief, bending a keen glance upon the young man. ‘My red brother is welcome,” said Courtney, speaking in the Indian fashion. ** Young chief go with Longlegs, ch?” question- ed the savage. Courtney wondered at the question, but he answered it. | ** Yes; Sol, the big trapper, you mean?” “Ugh! Longlegs big chief!” No fight much; | run ng Injun no catch Longlegs; he scalp | Leaver, heap.” It was very evident to Courtney that the chief was well acquainted with the trapper. “Ugh! Crow!” said the young chief, pointing down the street to an Indian riding along on a pony. Both the chiefs turned their backs upon Courtney and the squaw to gaze at the strange | Indian. Courtney cared little for the Crow brave, and eagerly embraced the opportunity to steal a glance at the Indian girl. She perceived the motion, and, with a quick glance toward the chiefs to note if they were watching, unfolded the Llanket and disclosed to the admiring eyes of Courtney the prettiest face he thought he had ever looked pi The features of ine Indian girl were regular, and really very beautiful. A fong, straight noso, eyes. of lustrous black, of liquid fire and of melting tende: ness; full, pout- ing lips, red as the caynation fi. wer, sweet in their dewy fullness; a little chin, exquisitely | formed, and a throat. perfect as sculptor ever | carved from silent marble, The clear skin, too, | through which the rosy blood was blushing, was _ of a brunette tiage, not the red hue of the In- | dian, but as if the torrid summer sun had kiss- ' | | =s the dainty cheek with a lover’s passionate cw rm sot foot on the top of the airth in this ’ere re- | For a moment Courtney | tiful girl before him, and then, as if fearful of | being surprised by the chiefs, she again | the blanket over her face, and Courtney scended from heaven to earth. The chiefs having watched the Crow dismount, | and enter one of the trading-stores, turned again to the young man. “When do my brothers go to their .wig- | wams?” asked Courtney. “When the coyote howls and the spirit lights come,” replied the chief, pointing to the sky. ity the ‘spirit lights,” Courtney guessed that the Indian meant the stars, “ Will not my brother come to my wigwam and eat?’ ‘“Injun not hungry; bumby come, perhaps,” replied the chief, seating himse!f upon the ground, The squaw end the young Indian fol lowed his example. Seeing that there was but little chance of agai beholding the girl’s face, Courtney slowly wall ed toward the trading-store. 5 CHAPTER IV. IN THE NIGHT. As the young adventurer walked slowly along, his thoughts were of this beautiful youn savage, the strange-hued daughter of the ro skins, whose check was nearly as white as his ow gece upon the beau. i. ‘Shall I ever see her again?’ cried the youn man to himself. Someinstinct within Ris browse assured him that he would. ’ ‘‘ By Jove!” he cried, to use our frontier ex- pression, ‘‘she’s taken me for. all that I’m worth.” At the trading-store Courtney found Old Sol and Wright. ‘The trapper had completed his urchases, and the trio turned their steps toward nis shanty. ‘*That air Injun business gits me,” said Sol, with a wise shake of the head. “Then you think that they had some other object in coming than to exchange their skins for powder and lead?” asked Wright. “Wal, yes, [do think so; it tain’t often that the Blackfeet trouble vs much in hyer. fh, the red skunks want to sce ef thar were any 0 a-goin’ to start across the mountains, an’ ef thar were a chance for plunder,” “ But they have a squaw with them,” said Courtney. “Yes, that shows that they ain’t on the war- path. I kinder guess the'r on a sort of smell- py expedition, jist to see what they can dis- Sy this time the three had reached the trap- Thus ono cool, determined man, aided by a | per’s shanty, und the shades of night were be- to gather over the prairic. here,” said Sol, suddenly, as they enter. ed the shanty, ‘‘I ain’t hearn your names yit, an’ as we're pe to be chums fur a few weeks, it don’t sound right fur to be callin’ you mis- rs, name is Roderick Wright,” said the elder, ‘‘and this gentleman’s name {is Harry Courtney.” ‘* Jes’ so!” replied Sol, “My handle in - curse you know:’Solomon Ginger, cailed fur short Old Sol, an’ by the red heathens Longlegs, ’cor I kin outrun any two-le critter that ever ginning ** See “ce ion.” ** Not a bad gift for a man like you,” remark~ . ed Wright. ‘““Not much, you bet!” replied the trapper; “but now, gents, hyer’s some blankets, an’ hyer’s the good old solid airth, an’ as we’ve got to make tracks at daybreak, we mought as well take a cat-nap as not. I'll jist go down an’ bring up the bosses, an’ hitch ’em with my two beasts outside in the little corral at the back of the shanty. They’ll be safe thar from either Tnjun or white.” The trapper Ceparted after the horses, an¢ Wright and Courtney seated themselves upot the boxes to await his return. In a short time the Giant Trapper returned with the two horses they had purchased at the trading-store. These he put in the littie yart attached to the back of the shanty, wb .re two more ponies were already tethered—one a little mud-colored animal, of the kind commonly call- ed “‘claybank.” This the trapper pointed to with oe as being the ‘ cutest, smartest little animal that ever walked over the top of tha airth.” The other was a rough, sha Wey that looked as if he were thoroughly ashamed o: “ He's himself, , “That's Mudhole’s animile,” said Sol. ar In hoss, out an’ out, an’ I bilieve be | a red-skin a durned sight better ner be | does a white; but as fur that air leetle cuss of
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a | —veernemetmemennemeraenedy mine,” pointing as he spoke, with pride, to the mud-colored pony, ‘‘she can smell an Injun a mile, an’ hates ’em like old Satan. He’s nearly kicked Mudhole’s head off three or four times; he’s p’ison on Injuns.” ‘A useful brute,” said Wright. ‘“'That’s so; kin travel his sixty miles a day, day in an’ day out, gits fat on a chaw tobacco, n’' kin sleep on the top of a rail fence;’ and a road grin spread over the trapper’s face as he descanted on the good qualities of the mud-col- ored beast. “I suppose we had better take our rifles and Ifttle traps from the boat to-night,” said Wricht. ‘‘Sartin; they ain’t apt to be stirrin’ in the mornin’, an’ we'll take wing mighty airly.” “Come, then, Cortney” said Wright, “We'll be back in a few minuies,” ‘* Jes’ so. Pll have come fodder ready fur yer. I’ve got the nicest buffain-tongue hyer that ever | a hungry man put his teeth into. Then, after foddering up, we'll take a shaxe-nown till morn- ing.” Wri ht and Courtney left tho snanty and talked down the stveet to the boat. It had now grown quite dark, and as there was 10 moon, our frionds could scarcely see ten paces defore them, They reached the steamer, however without accident; there they fot their rifles and a few other *‘ small traps,” as the clerk of the siearner denominated them, and proceeded to return to the #apper’s shanty. ey had nearly gained half the distance, when three dark forms brushed by them in the gloom, The darkness was so great that the fig ures could not be easily recognized, yet Court- ney felt sure that it was the two Indian braves and the young Indian girl who had just passed him. A wild wish sprung up in his breast to once again see the Indian girl—if possible to speak to her; and he determined to gratify that wish. He did not, for a moment, consider that ibly the girl knew nothing of the English neue, and as he knew not a single word of any ef the Indian Janguages, conversation might therefore be impossible. Love is blind, how- ever. Courtney had but one wish, one thought, to see the fuir face of the savage maiden—if possible, to touch her hand, to tell her that she was loved, to ask love in return! So, on arriving at the trapper’s shanty, Court- ney placed his.‘‘ plunder” inside, said quietly . that he would return in a moment, and then re- traced his steps down the street. “T may be on a wild-goose chase,” he said to himself, as he strolled along in the darkness, his eyes and ears on the watch to detect the shadowy forms that had passed him but the moment before. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. Might not the little clump of trees that had shaded the Indians in the day, be the best place to find them in thenight? The thought was reasonable; so, toward the trees Courtney slowly bent his steps. In a few minutes he stood beneath the reading boughs. All wassilence; the stillness -of the night alone was there. “Now, then, what is my course of action?” said the young man to himself, ‘Shall I con- ceal myself in the bushes, at the foot of these trees, and wait for the coming of the Tadians, or shall I a up the chase and return to the trapper’s shanty?” A few minutes’ thought de- cided him to adopt the first course of action; so he stretched himself out at full ‘ength in the bushes. Courtney had not been five minutes ir the concealment of his ambush, when his quick ear ftotected the tread of persons Ss pepe The sound came from the direction of the town, ‘ho tread is too heavy for my Indian girl,” tuoucht he, as the sound came nearer and nearer. Then, to the eyes of the watching man, two es loomed up in the gloom of the night. at they were Indians he could plainly see by tho blankets wrapped around thern. ‘Those are the two chiefs, but where is my beauty?” questioned the young man, as he peer- ed into ths darkness around him, anxious to de- tect the person of the Indian girl. But, no lithe form, with its light, springing step, rewarded his gaze. The Indians Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. Z ee PAE | the outlines of his form. | him? ‘The young chief and the girl are then to- gether,” said the concealed and anxious young man to himself. ‘If the old chief is here, the others will come, so I shall see my dark-eyed beauty again, though I may not be able to speak to her. Well, that is better than nothing; it’s a poor heart that cannot find consolation, so ll watch and wait.” The two chiefs commenced es Court- ney listened eagerly, but as the chiefs spoke in the Indian language, he had his trouble for his pains. We, however, for the information of | our readers, will translate the conversation of the Indians. “Why does the dog of the white-skins follow the steps of the chief of the Blackfeet?’ demand- ed the old chief. “The White Wolf speaks with a straight tongue,” answered the strange Indian; ‘“‘ the outcast brave is a dog.” The tones of the second Indian’s voice sounded strangely familiar to the ear of the watching Courtney, though the meaning of the speech was as Greek to him. ‘* Where the deuce have I heard that voice?” | questioned Courtney, communing with himself and striving through the darkness to distinguish the face of the speaker, but the darkness was | too intense. Courtney could only distinguish “ Yes, a dog that licks the hand of the whites —the hand of the deadly enemies of his race.” Let the chief open his ears; things good for the Blackfeet to know,” replied the strange Indian, whose tones sounded so fa- miliar to Courtney’s ear. “Ugh! Can the dog do good to the tribe he has disgraced?” questioned the old chief, in a stern voice. ‘*The Spotted Elk is deac *p the warriors of the Blackteet: let him rest till the Great Spirit calls him to the happy oes the strange Indian, In a mourn “The Spotted Elk was once a great chief of the Blackfoot nation—the great brav« of the Young warriors; he was the son of the White Volf. One day he would have been the great chief of the Blackfeet that dwell in the Flathead valley. The Spotted Elk was as brave as the eagle, and as foolish as the owl; he loved the pes of the Gray Eagle—another’s mate. hat was the end?’ demanded the old chief. “The Gray Eagle came upon the Singing Bird and the Spotted Elk; he was angry like the great clouds when they look black over the flow- ers; the Gray Eagle was a great chief, a mighty the unds,” said voice. warrior, strong as the pine-tree, but the ted Elk tore his heart out,’* and the voice o: chief swelled into a tone of triumph as he told of the death of his foe, ‘‘The Spotted Elk truth; the Gray Eagle diced by his knife, but the tribe of the Blackfeet killed the 8 g Bird—the guilty squaw—and drove the Spotted Elk an outcast from the land of his fathers. For the love of a foolish rare the Spotted Elk gave up the ehieftainship of the Blackfeet—became a dog in the wigwams of the pale-faces—rolled in the mud at their feet—drank their fire-water, and became their slave,” and the voice of the old chief swelled with indignation as he spoke, The other Indian hung his head, and for a moment made no reply, The interview was decidedly uninteresting to the listener, Courtney, unabie to understand a word of their conversation; he listened with im- patience. “T wish to heaven they’d get out, and that the girl would come!” was his muttered excla- mation. Just then a slight noise to the left. of him attracted his attention; he listened, and, in a moment, became satisfied that somo one else was watching the interview of the two Indians besides himself. For a moment he felt a slight alarm as to his own eae B but, as the other listener, whoever it might be, did not seem in- clined to approach, Courtney flattered himself that his presence was unknown. The two Indi- ans again resuming their conversation, he turn- ed his attention to them, thinking thot possibly t Ne might say something that he could under- stand. “he White Wolf speaks straight; the Spot- ted Elk isa wanderer, but his heart is Black- then Courtney saw that he was wrong in his | Wolf saw the strange whites with the trapper surmise: the two Indians were nut the two chiefs who had been with tho girl Here, in- deed, was one of them—the elder w-zrior, who had carried on the conversation, but the shorter one, the younger brave, was not with the old ehief. The other Indian now with him, was a warrior fully as tall as the old chief himself. Lonelegs?” Yes,” answered the old chief. “The strange chiefs seek the Flathead river, the country of the Blackfeet; they seck some- thing which thov will find in the village of the White Wolf. seek” stopped beneath the trees, and foot. Let the chief open his ears. The White! Can the chief guess what they ‘“Ugh! the white squaw!” answered the old a a heavy frown gathering upon his rows, “The White Wolf is right; the ears of ‘the —— Elk are long; he heard the talk of the white braves; when the sun comes they go.” ‘¢ Their bones shall whiten in the valley of the Flathead; and the coyote feet upon their hearts!” cried the White Wolf, fiercely. ‘Longle s with the white braves.” ** He shall die!” exclaimed the old chief. ‘*No! Longlegs saved the Spotted Elk from the blue-coated whites. If he dies, the Spotted Elk dies too. The White Wolf will spare Long- legs, or the Spotted Elk will tell him not to leava the white wigwams.” ‘** Tt is good!” replied the old chief; ‘‘ Lon shall not die; the Spotted Elk shall save the others shall die!” “‘ Itis well,” laconically replied the Spotted Elk, and then the two chiefs walked on in the dark- ness, and their figures were soon lost to sight in the gloom of the night, ‘* Now, I'd like to get out of this,” thought Courtney, ‘‘ but, there’s that confounded listen- er over there. It may besome big Indian, who may pal aknife into me the moment I show myself. Mighty little information I’ve got. I wonder where the deuce my Indian beauiy is?” Then, a noise from the direction of the con- cealed person, that was yet to. be proved triend or foe, attracted his atvention. e turned his legs im; “Tt is true; the dog is in the dust; why crush | eyes toward the spot; a dark figure rose from the he will hear ground and advanced direct ; 4 to the. hiding- place of Courtney. Through the gloom he wen distinguish that it was an Indian; on came the figure steadily toward him, “‘T’ve got to fight for it!” said the young man, between his teeth. He Speung, to his feet, draw- ing his revolver as he did so, and leveling it full at the breast of the advancing stranger, who, however, did not seem to heed the hostile action but still came steadily on. ‘* Keep off, or I fire!” exclaimed Courtney, as he pressed his revolver almost to the breast of the strange Indian. The blanket dropped from the dark figure, and by the dim light, Courtney could discern that it was the Indian’ girl whe stood before him, A cry of delight éscaped hi, lips at the welcome sight. “ White chief will not shoot Indian gir]!” said the maiden, in good, plain English, with ony a slight Indian accent. . * Shoot you!” cried Courtney, pushing his re- volver back to its place. ‘‘ I would rather shoot myself iy ‘Is white chief glad tc see Indian girl?” ques- tioned the maid. ‘ ‘Glad? To be sure? am!” he cried, “ That trees, to see you.” “You like me?” the girl asked, jonking inte eyes, ng waves, “4 peepee ; ES more than like; I love you!” and, with a quick movement he drew the unresisting girl to’hia breast. A moment he held her there—a mo- ment he heard the beating of her heart against his own, and then his lips met hers in one long. lingering, passionate ! The blood dan quickly through his veins; that kiss was the seal of love; henceforth the maid was his: for- ever! : : “T love yuu!” said the girl, softly, looking with he” ful!, lustrous eyes into her lover's ‘Then you could not understand what the chiefs caid. : / ** Ah!” and the girl for a moment was. silent; then she again continued: ‘ You seek some- thing in the Blackfoot country?” - “Yes,” said Courtney, wondering where the girl could have procured her knowledge. ‘I seek a treasure worth fifty thousand do 50 my companion says.” The girl shook her head incredulously. ‘*] know the treasure you seek; it is a living one, and it wiil go with you alone, Your com- obtain it thou ion cannot be were backed y all the blue-coated chiefs. the Big river to the great plains.” ;
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———, the old pon hig | of ‘the of the e Long 0 leava mnglegs e him; J ed Elk, dark- 10ught listen- D. who show rot. I Ly is?’ 3 con- riend 1 his m the iding- could e the man, lraw- ie Fat me | plain.” Courtney looked at the earnest face of the girl in astonishment; he was in a maze; he could make nothing of these strange words. “I do not understand you,” he cried; ‘ex- ‘‘Some time,” said the girl, with a smile. “*Good-by, now. You go tothe Flathead river; you will. be in danger, but 1 will watch over you, and you shall have the treasure, Ono word: beware of the Indian, Mudhole! He will betray you to the Blackfeet. Nay, more, he has betrayed you, Good-by!” and the girl folded ie blanket around her as if to depart. ‘** One moment!” cried Courtney, as he press- ed a farewell kiss upon her lips. ‘‘ My name is Harry Courtney; what is yours?” “ White Bird, the Flower of the Blackfeet,” murmured the girl, as she glided from his arms and disappeared in the darkness that hung like an inky pall over the earth. Courtney watched her retreating figure until it was lost to his view, and then, with a heart beating high with joy, he returned to the trap- per’s os tn and sought his humble couch, a single blanket on the hard earth. But, his dreams that night were pleasant ones, for the dark eyes. and red lips of the Blackfoot maid were ever before him. CHAPTER V. IN THR HANDS OF THE BLACKFEET. WHeEn the first gray streaks of light appeared in the eastern sky, the Giant Trapper awoke the two adventurers; the trio made-a hasty hreak- fast, and then soon were in the saddle, Hardly had the three mounted, when the In- diax, Mudhole, came up, looking as if he had pasred the night in some mudhole sleeping off he effects of the potent fire-water. Mudhole stared at the mounted men; a dim expression of astonishment appeared upon his features. “Old Sol go—no take Mudhole with him?” questioned the Indian. ‘Tn course, not,” replied the trapper. ‘‘Git your hoss; we’re fur the mountains fore the sun’ up.” ‘“Mudhole go,” responded the, savage, as_ he entered the little corral, and proceeded to saddle his pony, an Cprenion which was extremely simple, said saddle consisting only of a single blunkef, “ZT knowed he’d come,” said the trapper, with a grin. ‘* He's got the cussed whisky out o’ him, ax. he’s a huli team in the wilderness.” By this time the Indian had strap the blanket on his pony and mounted; then Sol ave the signal, and the party rode off toward the west, taking the trail that led through Cadotte’s Pass to the little frontier settlement known as Elk City. As they rode along, Courtmey could not resist taking a searching glance at the redoubtable Mudhoie, who rode in the rear, some ten paces behind the rest. The warning of the young In- dian girl recurred to the mind of Courtney; her warning was a strange one: “ Beware of the Indian, Mudhole; he will betray you to the Blackfeet; nay, more, he has betrayed you.” ‘‘ What the deuce did she mean?” asked Court- ney of himself. ‘‘How can he have already betrayed us?}—-that is the question.” But no so- lution of the mystery presented itself to the young man’s mind. “Til keep my eyes upon him,” he resolved ‘‘and if I see the slightest sign of treachery, I’ll blow his brains out as I would a mad dog’s.” Carefully did the old trapper lead the march, tor, as he explained to Wright and Courtney they might ante to fall in witha roving band of Crow Indians at any moment, as they were speting the regions inhabited by that warlike tribe. Thanks to the trapper’s precautions, and to the good-fortune which kept the Indians from their trail, the little party reached Cadotte’s Pass without seeing signs of a hostile savage. Climbing the rocky passes of the great moun- tains, our adventurers at length descended on the western side, and turned their course to the north-west, nga: the Elk City trail, and tak- ing a pathway of their own through the rough and timbered defiles, At the close of a weary day’s march, our ad- | venturers halted for rest and supper by the side of a little stream that came tumbling down —tihe waters pure as crystal—from the over- nanging mountains. ‘* Now, then, we air nigh our journey’s end; | we foller this leetle brook ten miles or 80, and we strike the valley of the Flathead river,” said trapper, as he obs on the grass. maunted and extended his | Sol Ginger. the White Wolf?” asked Wright, as he followed the trapper’s example and reclined at his side. ‘Bout ten miles or so—nigh enough to be mighty dangerous ef we ain’t mighty careful,” replied the trapper. ‘* You think there is danger of the Indians stumbling upon us here?” said Courtney. “Not much; it’s a mighty good time fur our expedition, fur about this time nearly all the young braves air away, down in the plains ar- ter bufflers. It’s the hunting season now; but, how on airth air you a-goin’ to find out whe- ther this ’ere person you seek is in the village of the White Wolf or not?” asked the trapper, with a doubtful shake of the head. “ That will be a difficulty indeed,” said Wright, thoughtfully. ‘Can you not suggest some lan?’ ar In course I kin, but the carryin’ of the plans out, thar’s whar it gits me,” and the old trapper shook his head wisely. ‘‘ In the first place, plan number one, we mought one on us go onto a smellin’ expedition into the village, an’ try to diskiver the truth in that air way : but, that air’s mighty dangerous, ’cos it would have to be done arter dark, an’ ten chances to one we wouldn’t Parn any thing, an’ would only have our trouble fur our pains, You see it wouldn’t do fur ary one on us to go, fur the durned Indian dogs would smell out that we were white-skins quick- ern a wink; they know a white man as fur as they kin smell him. Why, even one of the In- jun ponies will raise old Cain at the sight of a white; the dumb brutes know we ain’t friends. So, the only chance would be fur to send Mud- hole. In the darkness he might be able to walk right into the village and right out of it, an’ the Blackfeet not a bit the wiser.” That might do,” said Wright. * Yes, it mought; but I’ve got another plan,” said the Giant ‘Trapper; “that is, to captivate one of the Injun squaws an’ frighten the truth out of her. Tho only objection to that air is that ef we let her go a’gin, she’d have the hull village down ’bout our ears jist like stirrin’ up a hornet’s nest. I guess the best way will be to let Mudhole sneak into the village, arter all.” ‘“Yes, we can give him instructions,” said Misi, “‘Sartin,” replied Sol; ‘‘ he'll foller ’em. He’s jist as true as steel; you'll find him squar’ every time; ef it ’tain’tso 1 don’t wantacent. But, let’s have some supper.” “Supper!” cried Courtney; ‘that’s a good idea; but T wish we had something besides dr beef and corn,” which two articles being po able and easily carried, constituted the provi- sions of our adventurers, During the first of the trip, the rifle of the yey had produced many a palatable addition to their store, but for the last two days, since entering the rough and timbered defiles that stretched down from the Rocky Mountains to the Flathead river, the trapper had strictly forbidden the use of fire- arms. “We air in the enemies’ country, an’ we mustn’t sacrifice our top-knots for the sake of our stomachs,” he had quaintly observed. “Got tired of dried beef an’ corn, hey?’ asked the trapper. ** Yes,” replied Courtney. “How would you like some baked trout, nice, lively leetle spotted fellers?’ asked Sol, | with a grin, “Just you try me with a few,” cried Court- ney. ** We'll have ’em for our supper to-night,” re- sponded the trapper. ‘This leetle brook is full on ’em. . ] guess I kin risk a fire—a leetle one jist big enough to cook ’em ef I cover it up well an’ keep the smoke under. Here’s a line,” and he produced a couple from his pocket. ** Jist try your luck down the brook, an’ ef, in half an hour, we don’t have a mess of speckled beauties, just you call me a nigger, that’s all.” Courtney took the line and stroed off down the stream. Some hundred yards or so beyond, the brook took a sudden turn, and Courtney, | following it, was hidden from the sight of the others. little way beyond the endl the | brook tit down over a rocky ledge, form- | ing a charming little cascade. Underneath this cascade was a dark, deep pool, the very haunt | ; ; the agile brook-trout, the king of the fresh-wa- ter fishes, delights in. Courtney, turning over a decayed stump, pro- cured some little white grubs for bait, and then cast his line into tho silent pool. Scarcely had the line touched the surface of the water, ere a | fine, large trout made a dash at it, hooked him- | self, and was soon drawn out on the shelving bank. Courtney knelt to release the hook from the month of the fish. As he did so, a slight How far are we, then, from the village of | noise in the bushes near him attracted his atten- ee 7 tion. lt sounded as if some one, moving cau- tiously within the thicket, had stepped upon a dry twig, and it had snapped beneath the pres- sure of the foot. For a moment Courtney lis- tened, his eyes fixed upon the thicket near him, The noise was not repeated, and Courtney, satis- fied that it was only some small animal or bird forcing its way through the shrubbery, turned his attention again to the fish. The young man was no woodman; no prairie captain was he; be knew not that, in the wilderness, the woodman looks for a foe in every bush, sees the presence of the red-skinned warrior in the rustling of the leaves, detects the painted foe in the waving of the long grass. The soft wind warns bim of danger, the yellow earth beneath his feet tells of the coming fight. But as we have said, Courtney was no sh eyed mountain-man; he knew nothing of thi wiles and tricks of the human hyenas who roam the vast expanse of prairie wilderness that, broken by the Rocky Mountains and its ranges, stretches from the Gulf of California to the dense forests of British America. As Courtney knelt by the side of the fish to extract the hook' from his mouth, the dense bushes ten paces back of him were parted noises lessly, and forth into the little glade came a painted savage. I'our other Indians followed the first—creeping toward the unconscious white, slowly and noiselessly as the snake glid- ing toward its prey they came. A moment more and the foremost savage—who was none other than the chief whom we have seen barter- ing for the skins at Fort Benton—White Wolf, stood within striking distance of Courtney. Slowly the red-skin raised his tomahawk, a mo- ment he held it poised in the air over the head of the unconscious man; then it descended swift as the lightning’s flash, and, striking the young adventurer on the head, felled him senseless te the earth. Courtney fell without even a singlecry. Ex. tended upon the earth he fell, stunned, and si- lent as death; but the young man was not dead, The savage had struck him with the blunt —_ of the Indian ax, seeming with the intent stun, not to kill him, With a.grim smile, the White Wolf looked upon the face of the senseless man, ‘‘The white chief is no fox; he has not the eunning of Lonzlegs; his scalp would hang in the wigwam of tho Blackfoot, ut the red-man’s heart is big, and he remembers that the pale- face saved the Flower of the Blackfeet from the Big river braves. Young Bear,” he said, turn- ing to one of the foremost Indians, ‘carry the wiibeitn to the lodges of the Blackfeet; bind him hand and foot with the thongs of deer- » 1. The chief obeyed the words of the White Wolf by casting the senseless form of Court: upon his shoulder as if it were the body of a child, so ah ad: was the Indian. ‘‘ Longlegs can not be far away. He will not be taken as easy as this young chief, but he shall never return to the Big river; he shall die by the hand of the Blackfoot.” One of the Indians who had noticed the foot prints of Courtney, and which way they came, now spoke: ‘*The white brave came down the stream,” pointing to the footprints, ‘*Wah!” said the White Wolf, with a nt of satisfaction as he noted the marks. ‘‘ Young Bear go with the white brave to our wigwams, the rest follow me.” Young Bear, with Courtney pon his shoulder still senseless, stepped off lightly with his load in a north-west direction. As the reader has doubtless guessed from the words of the White Wolf, the meeting with Courtney was by accident. From the outcast chief, the Spotted Elk, these Blackfeet knew of the expedition of which Longlegs, or, as we bet. ter know him, the Giant Trapper, was the guide; but they did not know the exact direction the whites would come in their approach to the In. dian village. So, for the three days p: the one in the evening of which they had ca tured the helpless Courtney, they had scouted a circle, some ten to twenty miles from the vil- lage, all around it, carefully looking for traces of the white adventurers. ‘Thus had they hap- pened to surprise the young man by the side of the trout-stream, The Indians had one great advantage of the little party of whites led by the old trapper, Thanks to the Spotted Elk, they knew the ob- ject of the whites, while they, the whites, were journeying onward, hoping to surprise the In- dian village, and by cunning and stealth stea) the treasure which Wright valued at fifty thow sand dollars,
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s Beadle’s HalfDime Library. “Shall we attack the whites?’ asked one of the braves. ‘* No,” answered the White Wolf, ‘‘ the white chief, Longlegs, is as cunning as the beaver; like the wolf at bay, he fights hard. The Black- feet would kill the white chief Longlegs, who traps the beaver by the lodges of the red-men; but, if the red-men give the white chief a chance, he will ran—and his legs are long like the elk’s. If the red braves hem him in he will fight, and his rifle shoots many times at once. Four Blackfeet are not enough to fight Long- legs. The red chiefs will see where the pale- facc 3 have campel; then they will return to the Blackfoot lodges, get more warriors, and burst upon the white-skins like.a panther.” The other chiefs gravely nodded assent; they had all witnessed the prowess of the tall hunter, and the quick-repeated shots of his death-deal- ing rifle, and they had grown to look upon the white trapper as a very dangerous, subtle foe, and one whom force of numbers alone could crush. The reasoning of the White Wolf ap- | peared good to them. Their chief’s courage no | one of the Blackfoot tribe could gainsay; it had been tried on many a bloody war-path against the whites, proved on imi a fierce raid in the Crow country. So, silently, the red chiefs fol- lowed the White Wolf, as’ e advanced cautious- ly up the stream, follewiag the traces of Court- | ney’s steps. Je will leave whe Indians—like so many bloodhounds, following the white man’s trail— and return to th: Young Bear, and who bore thé form of the senseless Courtney along on his shoulder, as though it were the carcass of a deer. On through the wilderness with a long, lopin stride, went the muscular savage, over hill an dale, through brush and brier; the darkness de- seended upon the earth, but the savage halted not; onward, straight forward toward the In- dian village he went, nat turned from his path by rock, brush or streamlet, and some three hours after the time of Courtney’s capture, with his helpless burden on his shoulder, still insensi- ble, the Young Bear strode into the Blackfoot Village. The Indian deposited his of buffalo-skins in one of the vacant lodges in the center of tho village, then he bound the hands and legs of his captive ether tightly with stout bonds of deer-skin, and, having thus insured his sufety, he left him. As the Youn r stepped from the lodge, he was confronted by the figure of the young Indian girl, whom we have seen with the White Wolf in the frontier settlement. She was call- ed by the Indians White Bird, and in their fan- ciful manner further named the ‘ Flower of the Blackfeet.” The full moon, now evann ad threw a flood of pure, soft lig village. By the rays of the moon the Indian girl per- ceived a blood-stain upon the hunting-shirt of Young Bear, caused by the blood that had he gi down from the wound: in Courtney’s x tay young chief has been wounded?” the 2 ASHOCG, She had rightly gu.sed that, by this time, the party to which her lover was attached must be near the Indian village, and the blood-stain on the hunting-shirt of the young brave alarmed her. She feared that a meeting already had taken place between the Indians and the whites. clear in the sky, t down upon the That that meeting would be a bloody one she | knew too well, for she had overheard the conver- sation between the White wolf and the Spotted Elk, the outcast Blackfoot brave, in the white settlement. That the purpose of the whites had been betrayed to the Indians, and that the red braves were already on the watch to sur- rise the long-legged trapper and his compan- | p Little, though, did she | her lover was wounded | ons, she also knew. think that, even then and a prisoner in the hands of his foes. How could she guess that Courtney, the young white chief, the first man who had ever pressed the warm passicnate loye-kiss upon her red lips, was now bound, hand and foot, with the un- yielding withes of deer-skin— that life and | death even now contended which should possess | him * No,” responded the chief, proudly, ‘‘ The | blood on the hunting-shirt of the chief is white.” The girl's heart sunk at the words of the Young Bear. “The young chief has fought with the whites?” | she questioned, fearing the worst. “No; the warriors of the Blackfeet came ypon the white brave like the eagle upon his ndian who was named the | risoner on a couch | the Great Spirit strikes the big tree; he sunk captive in the red-man’s lodge.” ‘ Where?” questioned the girl, eagerly. | beneath the arm of the Blackfoot, and is now a . / . “ There,” replied the warrior, pointing to the | | wigwam from which he bad come, and in which | the helpless prisoner was confined. ‘‘ Would | the White Bird look upon the pale chief, let | her enter and she shall see the foe of the Black- | feet, crushed beneath the foot of the red-man.” | Saying which, the warrior stalked off toward | his own wigwam. | the white prisoner. | despite the All was dark within, yet, loom, she could distinguish a dark | form, extended on the buffalo-skins, and hear | | the heavy breathing as of one in pain. | With a heart sick with apprehension, the / White Bird knelt by the side of the helpless | |man. She pushed the tangled ringlets of his | hair back from his feverish temples; the dark- ness was so dense she could not see his face, but her heart told her that she knelt by the side of | her lover. | A moment she remained by his side, listening | | to his heavy, painful breathings; then she arose, | | and with a light step flew to her own wigwam; there she procured a small vessel of water, and | with it she returned to the side of the captive. | Carefully she bathed his forehead; she loosened | the tight bands that bound his wrists; his | breathing became easier; he turned restlessly upon his side; his senses were returning. ‘“* Where am I?” he murmured. His voice told the girl that she held her lover in her arms. ‘* Harry!” she cried, softly, ‘‘ dear Harry!” Courtney knew the voice. | ‘White Bird!” he exclaimed, as with rapture he pressed her to his heart. CHAPTER VI LONGLEGS SHOWS FIGHT. HARDLY had the White Wolf and his war- | riors left the little glade where they had suc- | ceeded in capturing Courtney, and their forms were ‘hid by the bushes, as they followed the | trail that led up the little stream, when, forth | from one of the clumps of trees—the same covert crack of the dried twig that had snapped neath the foot of one of the Indians; but, unlike Courtney, the sound had excited his suspicions; he had sought the thicket for the cause of the sound, and he had found it in the persons of the Indian braves. ‘Wal, we’re in fur it now!” cried the tra | per, as he stood fora moment Ties rape, es (3) vated ing. H ow on this neighborhood, or did they stumble on us, jist by luck?’ The trapper pondered on the matter for a few niomen * Not much chance to carry out our idees now.” It'll be all we kin do to look after our top-knots. I don’t intend that they shall hang mine up to dry in the smoke of any Injun Mime ef I know myself; but, ef we ain’t mighty keerful, they’ll gobble us in jist like a toad eats f Pa The trapper looked for a moment in the direc- tion that the Indians had taken; not a sound FE streamlet down; he, too, had heard the | ; within the rocky wilderness. “To think of right on top on us. , in this ’ere \ uy! Why, it riles me rig t up like a big flood does one of our rivers. I’m gittin’ mad! S’pose I should run across one of these heathen devils—wouldn’t I be justified in goin’ fur him?’ and the trap- per thought for a moment over the knotty int. ‘‘ By Cain!” he cried, slapping his thigh noise- lessly. “Vil go fur ’em, tooth an’ nail! The we're hyer; we’ve everything to make an’ noth- in’ to lose by a fight. Jl give the painted imps a chance to tote another carcass o | shut his teeth together with a determination | that boded ill to the White Wolf and his band. | Now, I mustn’t run in too close on’em,” muttered Sol, as he followed carefully in the ha’r instead of my lifting thar ha’r, which I cal- culate to do.” On went the old trapper, slowly and noise- i lessly. The Indian girl entered the wigwam that held | be- | could be heard denoting that there was life | the painted se‘ *ents comin’ | red heathens have got Courtney; they know | to their vil- | lage, but it shall be a red instead of a white | man this time, an’ thar won’t be any doubt as to | whether he’s dead or alive.” And the trapper | track of the savages, ‘‘else they mought lift my | epesenetnnarens y prey; they struck him as the forked light of To the looker-on—could there have been on } stationed in the sky—the wilderness would Lave resented a singu sight. First came W hite | olf and his three Blackfoot followers, track. ) ing patiently the footsteps of Courtney, ex} cct- ing each moment to pounce upon the caamp of the whites; in their rear came the old trary er, | following their trail with all the patience of a | sleuth-hound. / The trapper was gaining slowly, but surely, | upon the Indians. Once cr twice he had caught | sight of their dusky forms as they glided frcm | bush to bush, intent on conccaling their persone from the expected foe in front, not drei ming of | the deadly toe in their rear, who was ¢ach mo- ment gaining slowly but certainly upon tlcm. The shrill cry of a horse broke upcn the still | ness of the twilight hour. The cry came trem | the trapper’s pony. The sagacious enimal bid | “winded ” the por aee of the red-‘men. ‘he old trapper l:ughed silently to hin self at the sound. ‘*T knew the little beast would smell ’em cut soon. Now, Mudhole ought to know what that air means ef he’s got the serse of an owl. Ah! the red devils are deliberating, cuss em! Thar’ll be a dead {njun round hyer in ’bout twe minutes,” The trapper drew from his belt the keen-edged | hunting-knife; carefully ran his finger over the edge; it was sharp as a razor. As he bad said, the Indians had paused at the | shrill cry of the horse, and were clustered to- | gether, apparently in council. | Noiselessly and with the stealthy caution of | the panther stealing upon his prey, knife in hende the lion-bearted traprer approached his foes, taking advantage of every trce, each piece of rock to shelter him from the gaze of the Ir- | dians, should they chance to look behind thc . The warriors were holding a council. ‘Tt was the neigh of a horse,” said the White Wolf. ‘‘We are then near the camp of tle whites.” “Good,” answered the warrior who stood ncxt to the White Wolf. ‘Shall we surprise the white-skins in the night?” No,” answered the White Wolf, “ wears tce few. mglegs and his braves have rifles tl at fire many times. One of my warriors shaj} watch the pale-faces; the rest shall return witb me to our lodges, and at daybreak, when tle | light comes we'll hunt the white warriors to | death. Isit good?” “It is good,” replied the chief, who had aeked. | the question—a tall, muscular brave who was | known among the Blackfeet as Tall Bull, The | other two Indians nodded assent to the words ef | the chief. | ‘*One will stay and watch the white-skins?’ | questioned the Tall Bull. ‘The chief has spoken,” gravely answered the White Wolf. “The Tall Bull isa t brave of the Black- feet; he can look a bear to death!” said the chief, pec “he will stay and watch the e-faces till the White Wolf comes Lack with is braves. Is it good?’ “Tt is !” replied the White Wolf; “1 brother shall stay.. In the night, when the Tal} Bull hears the cry of the owl, let bim leck for the coming of the warriors of the Blackfeet.” Then, swiftly and silently, the While Wolf and the other two Indians retraccd their stcys, leaving Tall Bull to watch the wv bites. The Giant Trapper had yerceived the cevrcil, and had, concealed himself carefully tehird a dense clump of bushes; extending himself at full length upon the ground and farting the bushes before him, he could easily water the Indians. The White Wolf, followed by the two war- riors, came by the hiding-place of the tray per. taking a course, kcwever, that led them wice of his trail, which they would surely have dis- covered — although it was now gettirg quite dark, and the discovery might heve led to tr¢u- blesome conscquences for the indcmitab!e Fel, os he would bave Lcen srrrcurded Ly ike In- | dians, front and rear. Now he bad buta tin- | gle foe to deal with—the Blackfcot brave, ike Tall Bull, who kept watch between bim and tke camp of his associates. ““Pve got to git past that air feller to git irto the camp,” raid the trayper, musingly; “the | Injuns know that we air kyer; they'll prcbotly | be down onto us hide an’ hair fore the morn- | ing; we’ve got fur to make a run fur it, en’ | how on airth air we a-goin’ to do it with this | critter watching vs? That’s the overticn. an‘ | thar ain’t any dodgin’ it that I kin see.” Then | the trapper took another Icck at the Indian be | fore him. In the dim light, Sol eculd distinguish : that the warrior was leaning carelessly against
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the trunk of a tree, keeping apparently close watch on the wilderness before him. “Tt has got to be did; it’s no use talking. Hither he or me,” said the trapper, rising slowly to his feet and beginning his advance on the un- conscious savage before him. On went the Nemesis, knife in hand, foot by foot approaching the Indian, slowly but surely. The savage had his eyes carefully fixed upon the open space before him, beyond which, as he essed, lay the camp of the whites. Little did 16 dream that danger was nigh, that the white- skinned trapper, the famous Longlegs the beaver-catcher, was on his trail—nay, more, that the keen-ed hunting-kmife was even now drawn, ready to be dyed in his heart’s blood! The Blackfoot chief, watching eagerly and intently for signs of the white-skins in the wil- derness before him, was thirsting for the blood of the pale-faces; why not others seek for his blood? With a snake-like motion, the Giant Trapper had crept over the little space that separated him from the Indian; arriving at length within reach of his Rey: he prepared for the final movement. momert he crouched, like the tiger preparing for his spring; then, like the ar- row hurled from the bow, knife in hand, he sprung upon the unsuspecting savage. One eadly stroke, and the keen-edged hunting- knife, driven by the strong arm of the Whi Avenger, was buried to the hilt in the body of the wairior. A single moan of pain alone es- caped the Indian as the keen knife let out his life-blood; a moment the savage tottered, sway- ing like the pine tree struck by the lightning’s blast, and then he fell forward on his face, stone dead. The Tall Bull had given his last war- whoop, had trod his last war-trail; the Black- foot warrior was now but a piece of senseless clay, lying on the earth at the feet of his mortal enemy. For a moment Sol gazed upon his prostrate 0€. “Tt seems a pit, ,” he said, quite mournfully, “to kill any oft God’s critters, but it were either his life or mine, one or the t’other, an’ in sech a case, better him nor me. He were a ane te6- ged chap too,” continued the trapper; looks as of he meught ’a’ fought Old Satan.” The Giant Trapper bent over the prostrate warrior and drew the hunting-knife from the body; the blood gushed out afresh. The old sepper in spite of himself, shuddered at the sigh ag i the dim twilight, looked doubly horrible. He wiped the knife carefully in the earth, by thrusting it in to tho hilt and then drawing it forth. “Tt seems a pity, that we can’t live in this world without sheddim blood, but it can’t be did; ringed critter prom on some other critter weaker than itself,” said the trapper to himself, softly; “ but thar's no use cryin’ over spilt milk. I reckon thar’s many a heathen will feel the p’int of my knife or the bullet of my rifle afore we git out of this. We're in a pesky scrape, an’ thar ain’t no two ways ’bout it, Sol!” he cried; addressing himself familiarly, “ef you've got any bit of sense, now’s the time to show it. Tl Siac this feller jist where I struck him; the red devils will be arter us afore we're many hours older. Now fur the camp.” Saying which the trapper proceeded u stream. A few minutes’ walk brought him the glade where he had left Wright, Mudhole and the horses. To the trapper’s astonishment he found the little glade empty, except that the horses stood quietly browsing upon the young shrubs where they had been tethered. ‘“‘ Wa-al!” cried the trapper, in astonishment “have the red heathens gobbled up Wright and Mudhole, an’ without makin’ any row ’bout it too? It beats Ned!” But, as if in auswer to the trapper’s speech, forth from the little thicket in front of which oe 7 pry were tied, camo Wright, rifle in nd. “Ts that you, Sol?” asked the adventurer, as he came toward him, hardly able to distinguish him in the dim light, ““Wa-al, I reckon it is,” replied the trapper. “What in thunder were you a-doin’ in thar?” ‘Your horse a few minutes ago seemed alarmed at the approach of something. I re- membered what you said in regard to his singu- lar gift for smelling out Indians, and thinking robably that there might be some approaching, took to cover.” “You were right, by hookey!” cried Sol; Bao leetle animile was right every time, you Li? “Are there Indians near, then?’ eagerly asked Wright. 3 Wal, thar were Indians near, an’ thar’s Sol Ginger. a dead buck putty near now,” replied the trap- r. ae You have had a fight, then?” ‘*No; it were too one-sided to call it a fight; I stuck the Injun in the back, an’ he drop to onc’t.” ‘* Only one?” ‘‘Yes; ef thar had bin more, the fight would have been one-sided t’other way.” ‘¢ Are we in danger now?’ asked Wright. “‘'You kin jist bet we air!” replied the trap- per. ‘‘The Injun that I killed were left as a sort of scout upon our movements.” ‘‘The Indians know of our presence here, ud ‘“Wal, they jist do!” cried Sol. ‘How on} airth they diskivered it I don’t know, unless they stumbled onto our trail by accident,” ‘*Have you seen Courtney?’ ** Poor feller!” replied the trapper; ‘he’s a risoner in the hands of the cussed red heathens. They hit him a clip side of the head, I s’pose, fur he were stunned an’ senseless when I got thar, an’ then they toted him off on thar shoul- ders. I should have piled in an’ tried to rescue him, but I didn’t know but what thar were a lot of Injuus back in the bush, an’ of course it would have been folly to risk my own life with- out any chance of saving him.” ‘“‘ That’s very true; but what is to be done?” asked Wright, with evident anxiety. “That's what we've got to find out. We're in a tight place, thar ain’t any use backin’ round the truth. ‘Stead of gittin’ that air treasure that youre hunting fur among the Blackfeet we'll be lucky ef they don’t git our scal 3 said the trapper, quietly and earnestly. ‘‘ But, what’s become of Mudhole?’ ‘‘T don’t know,” answered Wright. “ A few minutes after you and Courtney went down the stream, I looked round to speak to him, and found that he was gone. He must have left the glade nearly at the same time as yourself.” “Wal, that air is strange,” said the trapper, thoughtfully, ‘I kinder hive an idee that all ain’t right ’bout that Injun; he’s acted putty ueer ever since we started onto this tramp. erusalem! ef he’s betrayed us to the Blackfeet I'll never have faith in human natur’ arter- wards,” “Tf he has betrayed us, we are lost!” cried Wright. . ‘*] wish to thunder we were lost, so that the durned red-skins couldn’t find us, anyhow!” re- turned the trapper, with one of his good-natured DS. or What is to be done?” “Play the fox an’ sneak fur our lives. I’ve showed fight to-night, which is kinder onnatural fur me; now Til try tother way. The Black- feet have felt my teeth, an’ I ’spect they'll raise kingdom come when they find that dead Injun; so now Ill show ’em a bit of beaver cunnin’.” ‘* What is to be done with the horses?” asked Wright. “We've got to leave ’em to shift fur them- selves, Thar ain’t any red Injun in the hull North-west can ketch my leetle animile; she knows endugh to stay right round hyer, an’ pr’aps your hoss keep mine company. Anyways, we’ve got to try shank’s mare jist now,” replied the trapper. “What is your plan?’ You know I’ve trapped considerahie on this ere river, an’ thar ain’t an inch of it from whar it takes its rise in Old Rocky: to whar it runs into the Columbia that I don't know. Wal, up hyer, about ten miles, is what is called the Great Cafion; the Blackfeet run me through the canon last spring—that’s the time they capti- vated the pe tries, that they traded down at the fort, cuss "em, for powder ‘an’ lead. That time Irun through the cajion I dodged the red hea- thens slick. You see, in the cation I diskivered a little cave; I hid in it an’ the red suckers never found me, though they were a-howlin’ all ‘round me. Now, we'll jist pit for that air hole in the hill, an’ jist throw the savages off the track.” **Will they not follow our trail?’ ' “Let ’em!” cried Sol, scornfully. ‘TI reckon Tain’t bin a es ay in these hyer regions fur nothin’. Wait till we strike the Flathead river an’ I'll bother the keenest-nosed red-skin that ever smelt out a trail,” ‘* But Courtney?” Jes’ you let us git out of this hobble, an’ I'll snake him out of the Blacifoot village as quick as a wink. Ef I don’t, jist you put me to bed with a rattlesnake an’ let him tickle me to death with his tail.” The trapper then released the horses—patting the neck of his own little pony as he did so, as much as to say, ‘‘good-by.” This done, the ‘| Now, this is my plan: 9 twain took their rifles and provision-pouches, and struck off through the wilderness in a north- western direction. After a tramp of about two hours they struck the valley through which flowed the waters of the Flathead river. CHAPTER VII. THE TURTLE BECOMES AN EAGLE. By the time the old trapper and Wright ar- rived at the bank of the river, the moon was up full in the heavens, and shed its clear, pure light down upon the turbid waters of the Fiat- head. “The caf.on is "bout a half a mile up-stream; the Injun village is *bout four miles above that: the cave we’re arter is right at the mouth of the canon. You see the river hyer flows over a rocky bed, an’ it ain’t deep; all we’ve got to do is to wade up-stream to the cave, an’ ef the red heathens kin fcler our trail, they kin jist take my pile, they kin,” said the guide, with one of his quaint smiles. “But, will they not follow our tracks to the river’s bank?” asked Wright. ‘‘Sartin!” quietly answered the trapper. “Will they not suspect that we have gone up the stream. ** What in thunder’s to make ’em?”’ asked Sol. “* Aint it more likely that we should go down the stream instead of up right into their clutches? he red devils will foller our trail, trace it to the river, conclude, in course, that we’ve gone down-stream, an’ go arter us like all git out; an’ all the time we'll be lyin’ snug, right under their noses.” ‘Your plan is excellent,” cried Wright. “ Jes’ so; guess I ain’t trapped beavers onto this ’ere stream for nothing; but, let’s be going; time’s short, life is sweet, an’ if we want to keep our top-knots jist whar they air now, we won't be slow in gittin’ up this hyer river,” So, into the river Sol went, followed by Wright. <A toilsome, difficult march was that littJe half-mile up the rocky bed of the river— the water now up to their ankles, and then ris- by gore to their waists. t last the march was ended, and the two stood within the gloomy cave; the entrance to the cavern was a small hole, some three feet in circumference, hidden by branches and clumps of bushes, so that no one, without close exami- mn could have discovered the secret hiding- place. Within the cavern was a small apartment, possibly six feet square, “What do Bigs think of this?’ asked Sol, as they entered the retreat. ‘“* Excellent!” replied Wright. ‘ It will prob- ably save our lives,” ‘“That’s so,” replied the trapper, earnestly. “Without this we'd be Head suckers, sure; but, how the red niggers diskivered us is a mys- ter 2) tf Can the Indian Mudhole, have betrayed us?” asked Wright. “Wal, I don’t know,” said Sol, thoughtfully. “The critter owed a great deal tome. Ef he has betrayed us the motive must have been a powerful one,” * **Does Mudhole know of the existence of this place?” asked Wright. “No,” answered the trapper, confidently; “tient known to any living soul ’sides mys f, that I knows on, I diskivered it by accident. Hyer we're safe. I’m a-goin’ to take a leetle scout ‘round the Injun village, jist to see what I kin diskiver. I have an idee that the White Wolf went back to the village arter leaving the big Injun as scout—the feller that I stuck—fur to git his warriors an’ go fur us. If my idee is right then the best time for me tosneak the boy out of the Injun village will be to-night, when the Injuns abana onto the war-path ap’in’ us. So, while they air huntin’ us Pll jist risk a visit right into their village, an’ p’haps I kin git the oung feller out of his spesky scrape—that is, ef e ain’t hurt too bad,” “Go, then, in heaven’s name!” cried Wright, “T will await your return here.” “ Jes’ so; but don’t show the end of your nose outside of the cave, fur the red devils will be all ’round us fore morning.” ‘*T shall be careful.” “T shall be back in "bout four hours,” added Sol. ‘I’ve got to keep my wits’bout me or T shall go plum _into the clutches of these rea heathens afore I know it. Ef by any accident the sarpints do diskiver the cave, why, you’ve got the three riftes, an’ as only one man ata time can git into the hole, you kin fight half a hun- dred of the hepebe, nici “28 trouble.” Then the trapper crawled through the opening, s ped into the river and commenced his Siete sco’,
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10 We will leave Wright to enjoy the solitude of the cave, to watch eagerly from the mouth the surface of the moonlit river and the dense for- est that shaded the opposite bank for evidence of the savage foe, and follow the footsteps of the giant trapper as he went on his dangerous ex- Same the object of which was to rescue the apless Courtney from the power of the Black- feet, The trapper proceeded cautiously up the water-course, after leaving the cave, keeping as he went within the shadow of the rocks that overhung the turbulent stream. He proceeded | for half a mile or so in the river-bed, then, se- | locting a favorable spot for his purpose, where tae rocks opened and a ravine. appeared, he left ‘the water and plunged through the ravine into the forest, “These rocks don’t show footprints, thank goodness!” muttered Sol, as he looked back or. 3 the border of the woods to the rocky pathway over which he had come. * Now fur the Injun village,” he cried to hitn- self, as he plunged within the thicket. ‘I d«- clare to goodness, ef I can’t do any thing e'se, Vl git into the corral an’ set all the hosses leose; the beasts will raise a precious row gaHopin’ » over the village. I’ve got to git even with these “ere Blackfeet upon that air peltry business, dod- rot their copper-colored skins, tae eternal hea- then and began to proceed moro cautiously. His judgment had told him that he was drawing near the village. Cautiously he proceeded. Presently he heard the barking of a dog—a sure sign that the indian encampment was near at Bana The brave man proveeded with increased cau- tion. A few steps more and the trapper found ‘himself on the cdge of the timber. Before him "ie was a little open plain, washed on one side by F the Flathead river, while the dense woods sur- |. rounded it on the other three In the plain the moon’s bright rays shone down upon the rude encampment. The trap- is per, from his ambush in the bushes at; the edge .} us A. timber, gazed upon the village of White . “Now, how in thunder shall I diskiver in which air were the young feller is shut up?” 4 a Sol, as his eyes rested upon the Indian saa 2 fre8. : We will leave tho trapper in his ambush and penetrate to the interior of the vi : In the center of the settlement stood the * council-lodge,” where the chief's met for deli- beration. Near the council-lodge was a wig- ‘wam, a little larger than the rest that com- : the encampment; this was she wigwam the chief of the tribe—the lodge of the te olf. In the lodge of the chief stood two warriors. The lodge being dimly lighted by a little wick burning in a vessel of grease, we can see the Ne chiefs was the White | _ Indian who had shared tho fortunes of the Giant: So's: 9 cole i who was called, in derision, by the settlers of Fort Benton, Mudhole, but who was— 2 as our readers have doubtless guessed—in real- _. ity, Spotted Elk, the outcast Blackfoot brave, the only son of the White Wolf, and who, but for his guilty passion for the squaw of the Gray Eagle, would one day have been the chief of the Blackfeet of the Flathead valley. ~ **The eursed white-skins are in the Flathead valley,’ said Mudhole, or, as we shall hereafter an” ge the White Wolf, ‘the chief | has seen them. The young white brave is now | @ prisoner in the wizgwam of the Blackfoot, = When the sun comes, the rest of the white chiefs | will be slain and their scalps will dry in the ; wigwams of the braves of the Blackfeet.” — But, the White Wolf gave his word that the | white trapper, Longlegs, should not die,” said - -tho-Spotted Ek. “The White Wolf’s tongue is straight, not alae ho speaks truth!” replied the chief, _ proudly. = Then Longlegs shall not die?’ questioned the _ Spotted Elk, The chief did notanswer. Evidently he wish- _. #4 to evade the question, for, after a few mo- anenis’ silence, he spoke; =. _ : mg sah re was once a young eagle; he was strong and proud of limb; he sought the nest of. the hawk; from the nest ho was hurled to the earth ; he became _a mud-turtle, and crawled in the etd Rae tao Sate WRPAE : (Od © + > EHOW ' \ Wom re ete J Beadle’s HalfDime Library. After an hour’s tramp, Sol slackened his pace | forms and faces of the two Indians, One of the Wolf, ‘+e other was the. ——— “Tt is true,” the young Indian answered, slowly, “‘the eagle is ncw a mud-turtle; the Great Spirit has willed it; ‘but, when he dies he will sing the death-song of the Blackfeet.” ‘** Would not the mud-tartle like to be an ea- gle again?’ questioned. the old chief. ‘“Wah! It is impcssible!” answered the Spot- ted Elk, slowly and sadly. “The Gray Eagie’s brother died last night,” said the White Wolf. ‘He has no’ kindred the tribe of tbh? Blackfeet; if the White Wolf | brings the Spotted Elk into the council-lodge of the Blackfeet as his son, what chief will dare to lift up his vycice against the chief of his tribe?’ “And will the White Wolf do this?’ asked the Spccked Elk, eagerly, ; ‘Te mud-turtle shall become an eagle on one condition.” ; / * Weil?” asked the young chief. | . ‘he White Wolf has said that the white | «pief, Longlegs, shall not die; it is bad; the bcaver-catcher hunts in the valley of the Flat- { head, the land of the Blackfeet; he kills the beaver and the muskrat; the animals that swim | in the Ilathead river belong to the Blackfeet; the white trapper must die.” ° “The White Wolf would have his pledge re- turned?” asked the Spotted Elk, / ** Yes; then he will take the Spotted Elk b the hand; he will conduct him to the council- lodge of the Blackfeet; he will say to the chiefs and warriors of the Blackfoot nation, ‘this is | my son, the future ¢agle of his tribe,’ and what warrior will dare say ‘nay ’?”? For a moment there was silence in the little lodge. The Bere Elk was deep in thought. If he returned the pledgeof the old chief he would sacrifice the life of the white trapper— the man who had protected him when he was an outcast and a wanderer, but it would restore him to his old position among the warriors of the Blackfeet. The temptation was too great; he could not resist it. To regain his former sta- tion he would have given his life; besides, the thought flashed rapidly through his brain, the old trapper was not captured yet; the chances were that he would manage to elude the search of the Blackfeet and escape them. The Indian knew full well the craft and cunning of the Giant Trapper; he felt assured he would escape the Indians; therefore, even if he retained the romise of the White Wolf. it might not aid the rapper; it could only aid him in case he fell in- to thé hands of the Blackfeet, and that they would capture him was doubtful. At last the Spotted Elk spoke. ‘Good! the fo ree Elk returns the promise of the White Wolf; the white trapper sxall die by the hands of the Blackfoot warriors.” “The mud-turtie shall become an eagle again,” returned the old chief, ‘‘The warriors of the Blackfeet are now in council; the White Wolf a present his son to them and they shall honor Then, with a stately step, the White Wolf con- ducted the outcast warrior to the council-lodge of the Blackfeet. — All the chief warriors of the Blackfoot tribe, then in the village—as, at the time we write, the majority of the braves were away on the annual hunting-expedition southward—were as- sembled in the council-lodge, waiting the coming of their chief. j The ‘White Wolf entered the council-lodge; -behind him came the Spotted Elk; the assem- bled warriors, despite the usual stolid expres- sion that they assume in the council-lodge, Jook- ed upon the face of the young brave—who for three years had been an outcast and a wanderer from the tribe of his fathers—with astonish- ment, The old chief paused in the center of council-lodge; each eye was bent upon each ear listened attentively for his words. _ “Warriors of the Blackfeet,” began the old chief, looking around with a majestic glance, “the White Wolt is a great chief; he does not fear the bear when he comes from the big mountains; his arm is strong and his heart large; he is the chief of the Blackfeet that live in the valley of the Flathead. Once he had a son; the big clouds sometimes cover the moon; when the clouds go the moon shines again; so the clouds covered theson of the White Wolf; but now the clouds are gen». The Spotted Elk is as cunning as the beaver; he has led the white Sonper: Longlegs, and his braves into the valley of the Flathead; their scalps wi!l bang in the lodge of a Blackfoot. Will my brothers say that the clouds are gone forever, and smoke the pipe of peace with the Spotted E1k?” _Yor a moment there was. silence in the coun- cil-lodre of the Blackfeet, As the White. Wolf be? wid, oU the biedred of the warrior killed the im; Then over his mind eame the thought of what, indeed, was his position—a prisoner, t less in the hands of bisfoew ws by the Spotted Elk were dead; there was no one to revive the charge against the young braye; and in the savage assembly, as in the courts of justice of the civilized white man, wealth and igh connections sometimes have great weight. or a few moments the dead silence continued within the council-lodge. Then an old chief arose; he was one of the oldest and bravest warriors in the tribe—a man of very great in- fluence; on his words hung the dcom of tho » Spotted Elk. eS “The words of the White Wolf have fallen upon the ears of the Blackfeet braves like the VEL cml De spring rain upon the ground: they have sunk in es eep,” began the old chief. ‘‘ Why should the mai red warriors remember what is bad, and. forget litt what is good?” rive A hum of assent from the circle of braves an- “ nounced their concurrence in the words of the Wi old Indian; evidently the verdict of the council “ would be favorable to the Elk, tern “The Spotted Elk is a my! warrior; he is The worthy to be the chief of the Blackfeet; let my 500 brothers forget the past and think only of the rT future. The long-legged trapper, the beaver- into catcher, is again in the Flathead valley; his exp scalp must bang in the lodges of the Blackfeet. Let my brothers smoke the pipe of peace and then hunt the white-skins to their death.” A grunt of approbation greeted the old war- rior as he sat down. ‘ And so the Spotted Elk, with the blood of the Gray Eagle upon his hands, was received back again into his tribe; the outcast. was a wanderer no longer. . The council ended; the warriors filed out of the council-lodge, and, led by the White Wolf and the Spotted Elk, took the war-trail against the whites, The warriors gated like so many specters in the moonlight, through the Indian village, down the slope that led to the river, and crossing it, sec ai in the dense thicket on the opposite ank, Before crossing the river, the White Wolf called the Young Bear to him, and, much to that warrior’s disgust, for he longed to join the war- party, he gave him directions to remain at_the village and watch the prisoner, Courtney. The word of the chief was law; and, though the young chief in his heart might grumble.at the office to which he had keen assigned, yet, out- wardly, Indian-like, he manifested no disap- pointment. The Young Bear beheld the warriors di and then took up his station in front. of the lodge in which was confined the hapless Court- ney. Pacey ri When the Blackfoot braves arrived on the op posite bank of the river, the White Wolf divided the party into three detachments. One he took command of himself; the second he gave to the sharge of the Spotted Elk; the third to the com- mand of the old Indian who had made the.speech in the council-lodge, and who was called Tall Thunder; © By ‘ ish To both the chiefs the White Wolf gave full instructions. The Blackfoot chief ex l that the whites might have left the campi und they had selected; he had divided warriors into three detachments that they might more easily discover the trail of the whites or tke Indian scout that he had left to track the whites. Little did the Blackfoot chieftain guess that the stout warrior that he had left in the thicke’ was now cold in death—that the keen steel of the white trapper, the ‘‘ beaver-catcher,” as the Blackfeet called him, had drank the life-blood of the Tall Bull. CHAPTER VIII. OUT OF THE INDIAN VILLAGE, — Once again Courtney held in his arms the soft and yielding form of the fair young Indian irl; but, how different now was his situation m that in which he had been placed when they had first met at Fort Benton! Then he was free, able to defy the malice of any foe; now he was a prisoner in the hands of the Blackfeet—the fierce savages of the North-west —his li‘e scarcely worth an hour’s purchase. But, his helpless situation, the knowe? ge: that death might come at any moment from the ruthless hands of the savages, were all fergotten in the one sweet moment when he, fcr the sec- ond time, held the White Bird in his erms, — her form quiver beneath his passionate em- ce. ty? 8 bi ee **You are in danger!” murmured the
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x apomgetS Nene e heen eA ic oe oA = ‘= Nie 55's Rey Ae : Pe rtd sat - ——— = bane Re ee, Se nes we Bh Ui Pk a a Fase F Pan ee wi a x She “ ger.’ ‘And your friends?’ questioned the girl. “T know nothing of their fate. The savages came upon me suddenly and stunned me with a blow on the head; after that, I know nothing. When I came to my senses I found myself here, a prisoner, your arms around me, your greeting ringing in my ears.” ‘** You must be saved!” she cried. **‘T musi, indeed, or die a miserable death,” he answered. Yes, dear one,” he answered, ‘‘I am in dan- Bhat describe the place?” asked the girl. “Yes, [ think I can,” answered the young man, “Tt leftiny companions by the side of a little stream that empties into the Flathead river, coming from the east—” “ Britter stream!” cried the girl. ‘I know it. Will your companions remain there?’ “No, I think not,” he answered; “the tended to come to the Flathead river, I think. They wished to be near this village. There is something here that they want.” “Do you know what it is?’ she said, looking into the face of the young man with a strange _ expression. “No; only that it is a treasure, and my com- panion thinks.it is very valuable,” said the ) young man, ue y now what it is,” said the girl. * You do?’ cried Courtney in astonishment. Yes; but the value your companion sets | upon it, I can not understand,” replied the In. ., dian girl. ‘‘ Were it you, now, who set so high _ | a value upon it, I should not wonder at it.” _ “You speak in riddles,” said aha: aston- ished at. her words. “I can not understand YOu + ay ») “You will, soon,” she replied. “If you were -\ free from here, do you think you could find | your companions?” “Yes, 1 think so; I would follow the river down to where the little stream runs into it, then follow the stream up; that would lead me | to where we were encam But I fear that my friends ere in the hands of the Indians also. ‘No,” replied the girl; ‘if they were prison- ers, they would be here. Besides, the great chief, the White Wolf, had but few braves with Aer) match for the cunning ‘beaver- youg man, “Yes, Longlegs, as the Blackfeet call him,” answered the girl. “ True, the old tra hands as easy as TI did: he said. ** Yes; Llove you and Iwill save you. I will untie the thongs that bind you, will bring you. a@ blanket, and, in the dark, conduct you through the village,” said the Indian maid. — “T shall owe you my life!” he cried, pressing her again and again to his heart, and covering her face with his warm, passionate kisses. . -“ You will love me?” questioned the girl. _ “Yes; [ shall love you always!” answered her lover. At that moment the quick ear of the Indian caught the sound of footsteps passing by lodge. Quickly she sprung te she door, and ’ pulling aside the skin that served as a ooked out upon the village. She saw | that the footsteps were caused by the Indian passing by the wigwam and going into This fact discovered, she re- ca wi the council lodge. turned to the side of her lover and told what - \ she had seen, ‘What does it mean?” he asked. “The White Wolf must have returned, and the braves are holding a council,” she replied. “Does not that denote that they are about to go on the wav-path?” he questioned. “Yes; the White Bird will listen to the coun- _ | cil of the braves; then sbe can tell their plans. “That is an excellent idea!’ cried Courtney. “Let me replace the thongs on your wrists, so that, if any of the chiefs look into the lodge, they will not suspect. So the White Bird bound the wrists of Court- a. farewil! kiss, she lett his side end stepped from the lodge into the openair. With a light step she took. her way, not to the council lodge, but in- | “You. mean the Giant. Trapper?’ said the | ney again with the deer-skin thongs; then, with | per will not fall into their uu But can you free me?” * Sol Ginger. “ and hear all that passed within the council- cdge. She was an attentive listener to the scene al- ready described. Then, after the council was finished, she saw the chiefs depart on the war- trail against the whites, and in her heart she re- joiced, for the warriors had left the village al- most unguarded, and she thought that she could easily save her lover. But, judge of her dis- | may, when she saw the Young Bear return at the command of the White Wolf and take up a ; | position in front of the lodge that held her lover, _ “Where did you leave your friends? Can you | a prisoner! Here was an unexpected obstacle, To get Courtney from the wigwam, with the | young savage keeping watch before it, was diffi- | cult if not impossible; yet the attempt must be made, ‘The war-party might return at any mo- ment, and then her lover’s life would be in dan- er, ® A moment she thought; then, a plan came into her mind, by means of which she might free the prisoner from the hands of the Black- teet, With a loitering step the White Bird walked down toward the river, taking a course that would lead her directly by the lodge that held Courtney. The Indian on guard, the Young Bear, beheld the Indian girl approaching; he was not sorry, for, in his heart he had a secret liking for the White Bird, but, being a young warrior, with very-little renown and no great deeds on the war-path to boast of, he had not dared to litt his eyes to the young beauty, the daughter of the great Blackfoot chief, the White Wolf—for she was indeed the daughter of that renowned warrior, 3 ‘““Has the White Bird seen the pale-face chief?” he asked, as the girl came by him. ‘* Yes,” she answered; ‘‘ but the pale chief was asleep; is he awake now?” “IT will wake him,” exclaimed the young brave, glad of an opportunity to please the maiden. So, into the lodge went the Young Bear, fol- lowed by the girl. ‘“Wah! pale-face?” cried the warrior, in Eng- lish, it being the only English he knew. Courtney turned on the couch as if awaking. ** Leave me your blanket -to rest on, while talk to the white-skin,” said the White Bird. | Gladly the young brave spread the blanket on the earth-floor of the wigwam, and then with- drew to resume his watch. He knew that the White Bird understood the strange language of the pale-faces, and could talk to the white 1, * White Bird?” said Courtney. ‘Yes; [Lave returned,” said the girl. ‘Do not fear; speak freely; the young brave who keeps watch does not understand your tongue.” ‘* He is watching me, then?” “ Yes. »” “Thon thero is little chance of my escape.” ‘You shall be free before the moon is two hours older,” said the girl. ** How can I esca is notice?” “T have a plan,” she answered. ‘There are but few warriors in the village; the White Wolf has taken the trail to hunt your friends to death.. You have been betrayed by the In- dian that I warned you not to trust in the white settlements by the Big river,” . **Mudhole!” exclaimed Courtney. ° “He then bas ber us into the hands of the Blackfeet.” “Yes,” answered the girl. ‘His right name is Spotted Elk; he is the son of the White Wolf, my father.” ( ‘What?’ cried Courtney, in astonishment. “You are the daughter of the White Wolf, and yet you love me?” ‘* Yes; and I will'save you from the Black- the one left by the young chief. then you 1 jpn the blanket, walk through the door, and cross the little open space into the | thicket beyond; there leave the blanket and I will join safety.” “You are my guardian angel!” cried the young man, Be ready. I will take the brave away.” Then the Indian yirl left the lodge, first re- moving the thongs that bound Courtney. you, then guide you to a place of —_ $$$ $$$ 11 caping. So, without further reluctance, he sig- nified his willingness to accompan the girl, The simple-bearted red-skin only yielded te the same fascination that stripped from the Roman Antony his share of the imperial city. The In- dian brave was not the first man to yield to the subtle lures of womankind, Courtney watched from the door of ths lodge the departure of the girl and the warrior; then. when he judged thein to be at a safe distance. and that the time had come to attempt to, es cape, he hastily wrapped the blanket around him and boldly stalked forth from’ the lodge, crossed the little open space and gained the wel- come shelter of the thicket. In the thicket he dropped the blanket and extended himself at full length in the bushes, to await the coming of the Indian girl. The White Bird and the young Indian warrior walked slowly down toward the river. Arriv- ing at the bank, the girl paused. ‘Does the Young Bear know’where the rat- tlesnake tree (the wiite ash) grows by the bank of the river?” ; (Among the Indian tribes of the North-west, the twigs of the white ash are believed to have the power to charm the rattlesnake.) “Yes,” replied the brave; “a big walk from the village.” “No; the Young Bear is swift, What brave of the Blackfoot tribe can outrun the young warrior? The Young Bear will bring the White Bird the twigs of the rattlesnake tree?’ And the girl bent her large, dark eyes full upos the face of the warrior. What mortal man, 14 i or white, could refuse? The delfcate compliment pangs the Indian, but duty made one last ef- ort ‘But the prisoner?” he stammered, “The White Bird will watch for the Young Bear,” said the girl, with another Lewitching glance of ‘her dark eyes, “It is good,” replied the Young Bear; ‘‘the chief will go;” and with a long, loping stride, up the river went the warrior. The girl watched him for a moment, then quickly retraced her steps, but instead of going to the lodge, she sought the thicket opposite, where she found Courtney awaiting her, “T have blinded the eyes of the young war rior, for some little time; you are safe,” she “Thanks to you; you have preserved me!” ex: claimed et oe I “But for a little time only; the warrior will soon return, then your absence may be dis covered at any moment,” replied the girl. “What shall I do}—endeavor to join my friends by the little stream, or—” d “No, no!” cried the White Bird, anxiously; ‘*do not go there; the red braves are even now thick in the forest. Should you meet er they will kill you without ery: Ah!” an the girl started suddenly, as though bitten by a snake. “* What is the matter?” 442 “Hush!” said the girl, listening. “Did you not hear something?” 7 For a moment Courtmey listened attentively, but his ear caught nothing but the usual soun of the forest. > “T can not hear any thing, he said at le ‘‘ But J did,” responded the girl, still listening. md — as though some one moved in yonder icket, "EO eet ** Might it not have been a bird or some small animal?’ asked the young man. His hearin was not as acute as that of the Indian maid, yee from childhood to the noises of the wil- Jerness. “No,” answered the girl, with a shake of the ; head; “the noise Lheard was human, not bird or © feet. See this blanket,” she said, pointing to | animal. Hush! “1 will decoy | pointed to a dense cluster of bushes some ten — the brave away from the door of the lodge; | feet from the spot where they stood. is there a !” and she i ‘OTis a foe, he shall die!” and with the lightning dash ot the tiger, the Indian girl drew the little knife from her girdle and bounded toward the thicket, Then from the coppice rose the figure of a man, and disclosed to the astonished eyes of Conrtney the person of the old trapper. “Hold on, you female wildcat!” be crled, in a: o 6b cautious voice; “don’t you prod me with that air toad-sticker |!” ae ‘“Longlegs!” cried the Indian girl. ‘Will the Young Bear walk with me to the river?’ asked the girl. The young brave hesitated, _ “J am to gnard the prisoner,” he replied. “The prisoner is bound hand and foot; he “ Jes’ so!” coolly replied the trapper; “ that’s what your dotenotted relations christen me!” It was tho pe a? indeed. Patiently hehad —s_ waited in bis ambush for some opportunity to enter the town, bub none had presented itself; ‘in a direction exactly opposite; but, when she reached the outsiie of the little circle of lodges, she tugned, and describing with her course a semicircle; she gained the “pack of the council- ~- \ houge, where she-was concealed from all obser-— tion by’ adow thrown by the wigwam. | cannot move; he is wounded, too; what then | still he waited, hoping against hope. He had as Le W: Serle per sagel wei ha her eee should you fear?” Rees a5 4 seen the departure of e indians and the escape ae C cute tole in’. ¢ skins that formed the sides ofthe | What the girl said was true, he knew; thers | of Courtney, who, as luck would have it, had ough which aperture sho could Loth | was little danger of the'wounded prisoner's es- | entered the thicket near his hiding-plage. © ess ety Br: -— Re gry 4 we ean me Pte eee Vii % yaeze. ht aus : - i 7 we ~ “ i 7 vet Gee ay. 4 : Ct PN Sear eee i Sida Ye : s sta Deyeiemae ee. wi Sil ih a io ei Ear as ae: imi 5 ta ee eco ee seal got ae <n
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ye as irart 5 at ta. 4 7 - ite 'S 12 — “How long nave you been here?” asked the young man. “Nigh onto two hours. I reskon,” replied the bh . did bs not discover yourself to me before?” Courtney asked. ‘Wal, I didn’t know as you'd expect to see a friend hyer, in the bush, an’ I thought likely ef I jumped up on you sudden, you mought have took me fur an jun, an’ gone fur me jist as that air gal was a-goin’ to.” “Where's your companion?” asked the girl. “Safe as a bug in a rug!” exclaimed the trapper. uy Gan ou conceal yourself and him ”—she referred Courtney—‘‘so that the Blackfeet ean not discover you?” “You bet!” cried the trapper, emphatically. *‘T kin hide him whar all the red Injuns of the North-west wouldn't find him,” “ You will go with him, then,” said the girl to Courtney. **And you?” cried Courtney, “will you not go with me?” * To-night, no; to-morrow, yes,” answered the “Tf ‘d whether the Indians will search for you, and what plan they will form to capture you; then not to-night?” questioned Courtney. 'I can eeme and tell you, and you can avoid them.” “Tho gal eet sense, by hookey!” cried the ae ‘let her have her own way; she knows “Do as you think best, for heaven’s sake!” cried Courtney; ‘but, be careful of es life; waen and where shall I see you again : ** To-morrow night, the ane “Ef I might suggest, ma’m,” said the old trapper, ‘‘ you had bette I’m used to tue woods an’ he ain’t.”. ‘You speak wisely,” said the girl. ‘‘ Where shall I meet you?’ ‘Right hyer, on this ere spot. I guess they -won’t expect to find ‘ Longlegs,’ as they call me, vo nigh their wigwams,” said the trapper, with a quiet chuckle. J ‘It is good,” replied the Indian girl. ‘ To- tuorrow night, then, when the sun goes down -_ the spirit lights begin to shine, you will be e re. “ Bet your life onto it, every time!” said Sol, with one of his peculiar grins, for the old trap- — was in high spirits at the thought of baffling he Blackfeet, “ Ege es 7a fe aps Pe her over’s face with a lon of her Ja dark eyes; ‘‘do not fear: the White Bird wil count the hours till she sees your face again.” A moment Courtney held her in his arms; their lips met in a farewell kiss, and then the Indian girl, taking the blanket that had dis- erp ® young man, returned again to the | e ’ “Perhaps I have seen her for the last time— perhaps my lips never again will touch her soft cheek,” cried Courtney, as the My ee of the In- 9% gag hid from his gaze by the walls of r) ; rf ag up ; . Hope fur hy nee see the old pper, in a live me. ‘* The ‘6 a trum every time! I shouldn't mind captivatin a critter like her myself. But, come, we've got a few miles to tramp «afore we're safe from the red devils.” poe pepper struck out a path through the thicket, - Courtney, after a farewell glance at the little lodge which had held him a prison- er, but now concealed only tho slight form ‘of the White Bird, the Flower of the Blackfeet, turned and followed him. ‘A Sas oats CHAPTER XT. THE «REASUREC WORTH FIFTY TROUSAND DOL- LARS, On throuzh tho forest with a long, steady stride wens the trapper, pity followed by Courtney. As near a3 he could calculate, Sol took the same path returning to the river that he had trod in coming from it to the Indian vil- r So closely had the man caleulated, that, a long, tedious tramp through the wood, they struck the river ai the little ravinevhat we have before mentioned, 5 The two crossed the rocks and entered the , fe. Be keerful an’ pick your way, else you'll go - ker-souse inter sume big pool,” wae the trapper’s caution, as they commenced their journey down » by the river-bank?” asked the ° 7 {e mmuch better traveling there than bere.” 3 es _ e, = VS + irre remain in the village I can discover |, r let me come fur you, | _ “ Why do you go through the wat-r?_ Why | Wi fief “Sartin!” replied the trapper, with a quiet | his boy into a marriage for the sake of the mon- chuckle at the young man’s ignorance of wood- craft; “‘ but, spose the red heathen foller us? They kin track us easy from the village to the river, but, at the river our footprints stop; nary sign is there of the way we’ve gone; but ef we were to go on the bank they could track us clean to our hidin’-place, an’ the chances would be that our handsome top-knots would hang an’ dry in the smoke of some big Injun’s lodge.” “True,” replied Courtney; ‘‘I own I am no woodman. I should be as one lost in this wil- cerness, were I alone.” Jes’ so; but I reckon I know every stick of timber, every foot of ground, an’ every inch of water tween hyer an’ the Columbia river,” said the trapper. ; After a weary march, our adventurers reach- ed the mouth of the little cave; into it, much to Courtney’s astonishment, Sol conducted him. “‘ Hyer we air, safe from any painted heathen that runs on the top of the airth in this ’ere re- gion,” cried Sol, as they stood within the little cave. Wright greeted Courtney and Sol warmly; he had given up all hopes of ever again seeing the young man, Courtney briefly related his adventures since he parted with his companions by the banks of the little stream. Wright listened attentively. “For the present, then, we are in safety!” Wright exclaimed. - “You bet! Don’t you worry "bout the Injuns, they'll never find us, ’cept through accident. We'll jist stay hyer till to-morrow night; then Pll go up to the village, git the leetle gal, an’ arter that we'll git out of the Injun etry as fast as we kin. But, boys, the question is, how that’s goin’ to be done?”. ** Wait here, I suppose, until the Indians have iven over the pursuit, then make our way back the best way we can,” said Riso ‘*Then you’ve given up your idee of goin’ into the Injun village?” asked the old trapper. “To attempt to may: Be my plan at present would be madness. , Indians are alarmed; they know of our being in the neighborhood; to metrate to their villa ge now and secure the easure that I am insearch of, would be clear] indeed, I think we shall be lucky if impossible ; we succeed in saving ourselves from the sav- ” replied W. Le righ an’ thar’s no two ways "bout it. Our top-kn ve — thousand cents for the hull dog- Blackfoot nation, cuss copper-colored sun-tanned hides !” “Neither would I,” quietly observed Wright; ‘vet there is a treasure in yonder little Indian village that, if I had it in St. Louis, would sure- ly be worth fifty thousand dollars to me.” ‘Explain, Wright, and tll us what it is,” said Courtney. “Well, since I have failed in my plan, I will answer your inquiries; and, after I have ex- plained, you will see that my scheme for mak- ing fifty thousand dollars was not.a visionary one, and but for the ee discovering us, my adventure would probably have been success- ful; but I must first speak of the past before I tell of the present.” - ‘“My story commences some twenty years ago. At that time 2 man named Samuel Curtis lived in St. Louis. St. Louis then was deeply engaged in the fur trade. This Curtis was a wealthy fur merchant, was about fifty years old, and had a son, a wild young fellow, possess- ing none of the father’s steadiness, Curtis the elder had amassed a large fortune—report said that he was worth fifty or. sixty thousand dol- lars, To this fortune his con, William, was of course the sole heir. Judge then of the father’s astonishment and disgust—for he was a man of cat pride and hauteur—when his only son, the eir to oll this vast property, married a 1° sewing-girl not worth a single penny. hen the news of his boy’s marriage came to his ears, the rage of the old man knew no bounds. He closed his doors at once against his own child and his beggarly bride, as he termed the wife, whose sole offense was that she was poor; in ev- ery other respect she was fitted to me the wife of a far better man than the wild, reckless William Curtis. Friends intereeded for the The fe couple, but their intercession was useless, te a > i SO: . = Se nt Saree e +, te ) | wife, and threw his fortunes with a train of for the North-west. When the fa- ey that he would one day possess, and he swore a bitter oath that not one dollar of his fortune should ever go into her hands.” ‘Why, the hard-hearted old cuss: cried Sol, See eD ey, “to turn ag’in’ his own flesh an bl fur a little bit of ws ak ! I’m durn- ed ef money ain’t fur from lessin’ some- times,” “Very true,” returned Wright, ‘ but to go on with my story. For a time the son and his wife struggled along in St. Louis. The father was to them as an utter stranger. At last, wearied by his fruitless struggle for life—for young Curtis did not possess the iron will and nerve of his father—he left St. Louis with ais in’ a ther was told of the resolve and departure of is boy, he showed no signs of forgiveness, ‘He has chosen his bed; let him lie on it; was his cold reply to those who again yentured tu intercede for the y “Curtis, with his wife, proceeded with tke emigrants to their settlement on the upper Mis- souri; then, attracted by the gold discoveries in California, he left his wife and struck across the paves to try his fortunes in the mines. With im my story has nothing more to do, as it is unknown what became of him. He never rc- turned to his wife, and was svppcsed to died in California. ‘““The wife remained in the little settlement where her husband had left her; a baby girl was oung people. ave born to her, and then, some fifteen years age, when the child was four. yeais old, she went with some friends to the then new settlement Elk City, though this was long lefore it had re- ceived that name. Delia, kept i Be regular correspcndence with her folks in Rt. uis, and from them all these par- ticulars were gained. “Delia Curtis, with her little girl, hed rot lived a year in the new settlement, when the Blackfeet Indians commenced a fierce war upon the frontier settlements. Among other the little settlement of what is now Elk City was attacked and burnt to the ground; tke in. habitants were murdered b ried away into captivity; tell of the savage slaughter.” “ Jes’ so!” Sol. the few.” “You were?” eagerly res Wright. “‘T were,” repeated Sol. ‘*I knowed Mrs. Curtis an’ the leetle gal; they lived right on the edge of the settlement, the tust house attacked by the red heathen,” The wife, whose name wes laces, the Indians or cav- ut few escaped ta interrup “T were one on “ Yes,” responded Wright. “50 I was tel ty < one of the survivors. Mrs. Curtis and her « hild were never seen after the Indian attack. Whe ther they were killed by the Indians or cairied wey. captive, no one could tell.” “Wal, they wasn’t killed, in the attack, that’s a dead sure thing,” said the old ne ag “cos T were one on the fellers that helped to ry the bodies; but the savages mought have knocked ’em on the head afterwards.” 4 “After the departure of his scn from &t. Louis, old Mr. Curtis pursued his way through the world as usual. He was told, cf course, of the sipstees deaths of his scn, his sen’s wife and daughter, and if the old waa reperted of his hardness, outwardly he made ro sign. Years passed on; there wes ro one to institute a search for the lost woman ard child, and the affair seemed buried from the wcrld. Jvst about a year ago the old man Crrtis died. On his death-bed he thought cf his sn and of bis harsh treatment of that son, and in contritica repented of his conduct. There was noabksolute proof that the mother and child were dead, ncr, indeed of the death cf William, But cf thet — there was but little doubt, old man made a will; the sum of ten thovrand dollars he left to Roderick Wright of St. Lcuis, his confidential man of business, with en in- junction that the ten thousand was to be ¢x- nded in procuring proof of the existence cr he death of the girl Delia, the Cavghter of h's | son William and his wife Deliv; to that girlt Delia, his granddanghter, he left the whkelecf his fortune. And there was another clarse in ed in the will?” cried y Bett in replied eee. eal BS I git your idee now,” said the trarper. “You think that this leetle zal Delia eid alive, an’ that she is in the Injun villageup in <2 So gs See a That the (Lid might be living there were great hcpes. &o the © 2 hg “=I
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1; a“ . ‘ ged red _ of the -legged imp of Satan. I do think Blagkt eo eee PS AT TE KS S SS “Yes: for it was tho White Wolf’s band that | *btacked the settlement.” ‘(Small chance of findin’ her, I reckon,” said the trapper. “Y think ave discovered us. The first thing I did in St. Louis ‘was to put an advertisement in the newspapers for information relating to the massacre at Elk City. Luckily, the very man who could give me the information I desired, saw my advertise- ament arid answered it. The man was a neigh- oor of Mrs. Curtis, and saw the attack on her aouse; he also saw the woman and child carried away by tae Indians.” “This gal, if living, would be about twenty | yoars oli now,” said the trapper, “Yes,” replied Wright. : : ‘* Wal, bein’ so youug a gal when carried off, it’s more than likely that the red heathen have brought her wp. as one of themselves, ’cos the leetle gal wouldn’t be apt to remember much *bout the white settlements.” _ ‘That is probable,” saitl Wright. “Then that’s the fifty thousand dollars you are arter in the Injun village?” said the trap- r. ce That is the prize.” hea “Mighty small chance of gittin’ it now.” “Tm afraid so,” responded Wright. ** But, even if you should find the girl, and be fully satisfied yourself that she is the one you seek, it seems to me that it would be a difficult matter to prove her identity in a court of law iso that she could inherit the estate*left her by the will,” said Courtney. “What you say is very true; but I have all the papers relating to her birth, The mother had an idea that the child might one day in- herit some of her grandfather’s estate, so she sent the papers to her relatives in St. Louis. Tho onl ditcult point is the question of iden- tity. would have to prove that the girl that I rescne from the hands of the Indians is the samc ono stolen by them at the massacre of Elk City fifteen Pag ago.” “‘ Wal, I should say th=4 air would be a knotty pint to git round” observed the trapper, °s Not so difficult as you would think, thanks - to the forethought of the mother of the gir! She, the mother, always had a thought that her daughter would somo day be forgiven her nts’ faul*; but sho was alone with the child the wilds of the Far West; should she, the mother, die, the identity of the child might be ‘lost; so, tm guard her from the consequences of the very event that afterward did happen, the’ mother caused the name Delia Curtis to be pricked in India ink, sailor fashion, on the rbhter’s arm,” aS &- ; Wal, that woman Aad sense,” cried the es, The man who imprinted the nanie on tho arm was tho very man who answered my advertisement in St. Louis. So you see how easy it would be to prove the identity of the girl, for, of course e can swear to his own rovk,” replied W right. ; Mead copbably but for this covery of us by the Indians, succeeded in your missicn an heir,” said Courtney. ~ ~ “T think so.” An’ now you'll be lucky ef you git out of this ’ere bn tte with the ha’r on the top of your ,” sai ; ; meets all in alifetime,” replied Wright. “We can not always succeed. ” » & Jes’ sol true as preaching; but I say, by - hookey, I’ve got an idee, The leetle Injun gal— the White Bird, as they call her—is comin’ to- ‘morrow night to run off with Mister Courtney. From her you kin fiud out all ’bout the Injun - gals, an’ ef any one on’em has got the mark on arm, the chiet’s daughter will know it. Then, of = ee themes you en dist git _ nother pai & hea r than this one, winke her out of the. have s of ‘the red heathen. ' What do you think of the idee?” asked the trap- ee Very excellent, indeed. We should have sneceeded this time but that the Indians by some means learned our intentions, and thus de- unfortunate dis- ou would have found the lost 4 _feated our plans to surprise them,” said Wright. _ “Ts that air dod-rotted Mudhole, the cus- nigger! ‘I wouldn’t have believed it oot. It’s no use, a snake is a snake a a thats very true. Our present look-out is not—that is, if the savages hadn’t | ‘“‘T kin do it!” said the trapper, emphatically ; ‘ef I don’t, jes’ you bite my ears off an’ use’em for pin-cushions.” So for the present we will leave our heroes to meditate in the gloomy chamber of the little cave, while we return to the White Wolf and his Blackfoot warriors. CHAPTER X. LONGLEGS IN A DIFFICULTY. Sment_Ly through the forest went the Indian warriors. a course which would bring them directly to the spot where the’ Indian warrior, Tall Bull, had been stationed to watch the movements of the whites. After a march of some two hours, the White Wolf, followed by his braves, entered the little glade where Courtney had been captured. The White Wolf enjoined caution and silence upon his warriors, as he expected each moment, as he advanced, to come upon the camp of the whites. Slowly the braves advanced, and suddenly the keen eyes of the White Wolf caught sight of the body of the Tall Bull, extended on the es pape whither he had been struck by the keen cnife of the old trapper. The White Wolt sprung to the side of the dead brave, and noted the gaping wound in his back. |. * Wah!” he cried, in the Indian tongue; “ the | Tall Bull has gone to the happy hunting- ounds!” : The Indians crowded around the body. All examined anxiously the deep thrust that had | let out the life of the warrior, “The beaver-catcher has shown his teeth; the fox Las become a bear,” said the White Wolf | for he doubted not that the Indian warrior ha | fallen by the hand of the big rhe a “The | Blackfoct will hunt the bear to his lair; he shall die before another moon shines over the Flat- head valley.” : Then two of the braves, raising the body of tho slain warrior, bore it away toward the In- dian village. One of the warriors, who had been examining the surroundi:.g country, returned with the in- ste Seis that he had discovered the trail of the whites. Eager fer vengeance, the red-skins took the trail. Despite the darkness the Indians readily | followed the path pursued ‘by the trapper and his companion. Minutes lengthened into hours, and still the trail continued, until at last it came to a sudden be on the rocky bank of the Flathead river. White Wolf and his band halted, discomfited, “Wah!” cried the chief, in evident anger; “the cunning beaver-catcher has covered his trail; he is a great warrior whovis both bear and fox at once.” Then, turning to his band, he said; ‘‘ Let my warriors search the other bank for the steps of the cunning white-skins.” The Blackfoot warriors eagerly obeyed the orders of their chief, but the quest was vain; no trace on either bank of the river was there of the whites, thanks to the old a having taken the precaution to use the rocky ravine in leaving and ake rane tere river. ed and discouraged, the White Wolf called a halt. The trail of the whites had disappeared as utterly as though they had sunk into the ground. The chief could but confess that the cunnin trapper had beaten him; the Indian, train from the cradle to the forest wilds, was no match in woodcraft for the long-legged beaver- catcher; but, stubborn to the end, he would not give up hope. The whites wero in the valley somewhere, he felt sure of it. He therefore re- solved to dispatcn some of his warriors to pick- et the lower end of the valley; cooner or later the whites would attempt to oscape and would fall into the hands of the Blackfeet. The two parties, led by the Spotted Elk and Tall Thunder, by this time had joined the White Wolf. The party led by ‘all Thunder, the Wolf dispatched to guard the cntrance to the valley; the rest of the braves followed the Wolf as he returned to the Indian encampment. All this marching and countermarching had taken time; the gloom of the night had long since gone, and the gray tints of the morning had been succeeded by the burning mid-day sun, when White Wolf and his warriors en- tered the Indian village. The band headed by the White Wolf followed / Young ot = upon his prisoner, Courtney’s es- | however, was. still — ee ees ee ee es, 7; 4 Z cape. The Wolf entered the lodge and found it empty. On the floor lay the deer-skin thongs with which the prisoner had been bound, cut into half a dozen pieces. A large slit through the skins that formed the back of the lodge, showed how the prisoner had escaped the vigi- lance of the Young Bear who guarded the lodge, Courtney had not been searched thoroughly when made a prisoner, and therefore that he might have had a knife concealed on his person, and by its aid that he had effected his escape, appeared reasonable to the Indians. Not even the Young Bear suspected that the Indian girl, White Bird, had any agency in the matter. Again was the chief baffled, although in his heart he was not sorry for the escape of the young man; he remembered te time in the white settlement, when Courtaey had eee forward in his behalf, and the memory of the Indian for good or evil extends far beyond a ay. The White Wolf gave orders thay the warriors sheuld prepare for the war-path, for he had re- solved again to set forth that night and search every nook and corner of the Flathead valley for traces of the whites, ; Leaving the warriors preparing for the com- ais Soe ition, we will return to the fugitives hiding in the little cave by the river’s side, Gloomily the long day had passed to the whites nestling in the dark corners of the cavern that had been an ark of safety to them. Sol, peeping ven, forth from the cave’s mouth, beheld the Indians scouting alcng on the other bank of the river. ; “ The p’ison sarpints are arter us, sure as shoot- in’,” he observed, with adry chuckle. ‘TI reck- on, though, the heathen won't be like to diskiver us, Tranquilly in the snug retreat the whites re- mained, while the red warriors were searching up and down the river for their trail. Little did they suspect that tle foe they sought was concealed beneath their very feet, for the scout- ghd on that bank of the river whcre tho little cave was situated, over it Lalf a dozen times in their search. Night came at last, descending slowly upon the surface of the turbid and swiit-flowing wa- ters. One by one, to tho eyes of the watching whites, the trees on the opposite bank faded into the dense gloom, and where once their eyes rest- ed upon the green forest, appeared now but an indistinct black wall. The night, too, promised, in contradiction to the preceding cne, to'Le dark and cloudy; the moon was hid by the clouds that covered the sky. As the scout observed, in his quaint way: ‘‘Tt’s an allfired good night for scout g.” “You will set out soon, will you not?” asked por tney, filled with the anxiety so natural toa over. “Wal, I reckon it won’t be long now afore I make a start of it. I s’pose you want-to sco the little gal, don’t ye?” he asked, with a chuckle. The old trapper could read human nature as well as he could decipher the signs of the for- est. “Yes,” replied Courtney, honestly. ‘I own I am anxious.” , “‘Sartin; it’s human natur’; but, don’t hurry; I want to see jist how dark it’s goin’ to git afore | T start. I, reckon thar’ll be some danger in in’ inter the Injun village to-night. eé vil- ge just now must be like a good-sized hornets’ est. ; s ‘Let me go with you if there is danger to be met!” impulsively exclaimed the young he proceeded onward, ghases cried the trapper. ‘*‘It isn’t fightin’ that’s got 5 be did; it sacakin’, an’ ‘ane a sight be An hour or so more the old trapper waited, and then, after a careful scouting around the dertaking. st Be “carefull” cried Wright, as the bain aed water of the stream, — “You bet!” was old Sol’s rejoinder, as he leetle gal out of the Injun camp, an’ then sneak the hull party out of t k, though,” and the man shut his teeth firm- Wehene: he walked on up the stream. Ar-— river, crossed space and entered the thicket. — Cautiously and itahts any and listening intently. writin the forest 0 age man. “What in thunder would be the use of that?” nor two.” mouth of the cave, he essayed Lis: rate un- quitted the cave and stood within the started on his perilous journcy. “Ef I git the Injun ger! it'll be something to boast of in my old age. ¢ will be riving at the rocky ravine, the trapper left the . tne little d stopping every now and then es he a to the encampment,
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_ thorn-bushes air so durn’ lovin’. was but momentary, for again the skinned tra) the white 14 was there of human life. the brave heart, till at last he reached the ed of the thicket and looked from the cover of the trees upon the Indian village. There, in con- trast to the silence of the forest, all was life and activity. The Blackfeet were all astir. In the eonter of the village before. the door of tho rouncil-k a huge fire was burning, and eround it he ‘Blackfoot braves were ancing the war-dance. The trapper understood well the meaning of the scene, He saw plainly that all the available force in the village were about to take the war- trail, The thought that the savages set such a high value upon his capture rather pleased the darin rete forester. <_ a top-knot out of the bloody hea- thens’ han tr kin,” he said to himself, as his eves rested ‘upo n the’ dancing, -howling Black- feet. “I wonder whar the leetle gal is? Pooty near time she were a-lookin’ fur me; ;’ but no sign of the Indian girl could he see. Ag he looked from wigwam to wigwam, vainly striv- Ing to discover her, an Indian pony, that had evidently broken loose, followed by half a dozen elling curs, and as many warriors in inert ashed through the v and made ctly for the spot where old Sol stood. The rush of the horse was so sudden that the animal and his howling followers were upon him before he could retreat. To attempt to do so, with the dogs and Indians so near him, would have been folly, so he sunk quietly. to the ein trusting to the tall grass to conceal him, n his heart the old pe ao cursed the horse, She dogs, the men and the unlucky star that had brought them so near his hiding-place, The horse was surrounded and caught within ten feet of the spot where the Fina ue lay, and Sol had just begun to ho would , when one of Sie little OYadian dogs smelt’ him out and plunged at him open- mouthed, barking fiercely. The rest of the dogs followed, and the Indians advanced to dis- cover the cause of the dogs’ alarm. The trap- per felt as if his time had come. Already one pf the braves was within six feet of him; flight was his only hope. His resolve was in- stantly kar In a second the old trapper was on his feet and bounded off through the woods. A yell from the startled Indians greeted the sud- den appearance. They knew the fi of the long-legged beaver-catcher right well, but that their foe should be lurking almost within the shadow of their wigwams struck them with as- tonishment, On through the tangled underbrush rushed Sol, leaving here and there in the thorny bushes str {ps of his hunting shirt and (ee sr ae ‘* By hookey!” cried he to hi as a bush tore off a large strip from his pte “T shall be naked as a new-born baby, ef these cussed I guess I kin outrun these heathen or I’m a sucker,” and he threw a rapid glance over his shoulder to note the nearness of the foe, Fatal movement, for, at the same moment his foot caught, and head- long on the earth went the tall trapper. It was a moment or two before he could regain his feet, tangled up as they were in a network of briers. The Indians had closed in around him; no ave- Onward still went esca nue of escape was open to him; the cold perspira- tion stood upon Swatiant One bold dash = oo for life. Useless attempt! Fortune the white-skin, for again his foot canght ina ina Meg and again he fell prostrate up- fore he could rise, the red po lg eo themselves upon him. Vigor- pire old Sol struggled. Once, with almost superhuman strength, he threw his assailants off d ed his knee. The advantage, aoe threw themselves upon and bore him to the, earth. The warriors had not tried to use their weapons, their object being to capture him alive. This tor trapper well understood; they designed him ‘or the ortare-stake, po sage bia by Per = of numbers, old Sol, bound tightly, ba and determined struggle, was bound tightly, hand ee foot, with the deer- skin girdles 0; warriors. Then, utterly help- less in the andes of the savages, they raised Mi tea endl shoulders and bore him in triumph the village—one of the swiftest oe seo been dispatched in advance to a sprie the Blackfeet that their great enemy, the w te- r, Longlegs, the Faiiencooshien:; jet’ that had so long defied their ake was now a prisoner helpless in their | Pa Pls ea the prisoner wbened spe hd Gee Fath Ee rent Mt Beadle’ s Half-Dime _.. Beadle's""MaieDime Library. bitterness of spirit, ‘‘to be captivated by these a eg dog-rotted 5 It makes my blood bile. Is’pose they'll roast or fry me at the tor- ture-stake jist to see whrether I am tough or ten- der—the etarnal heathen!” And so, on the shoulders of the braves who had by accident captured him, the beaver- catcher was carried into the village of his mor- tal enemies. CHAPTER yA MUDHOLE’S FAITH. ALARMED by the Indian runner, the w hole of the inhabitants of the Blackfoot village assem- bled to witness the arrival of the daring white- skin who had so long defied the efforts of the best warriors of the Blackfoot tribe to kill or ca “hepa him. At last he was in their hands, a helpless prisoner. ‘ Loud were the yells, wild was the delight, with which the Indians welcomed the successful warriors. The prisoner was deposited in front of the council-lodge, in close proximity to the blazing tire; a fact which did not tend to make him feel easier in his mind. The women and children crowded around him, with many a taunt and threat, till the White Wolf placed a cordon of warriors around him, and kept back the crowd. Then the high chiefs, headed by the White Wolf, sought the council-iodge, to decide as to the fate of ap captive. ‘he women and children, kept back from the prisoner by the line of warriors, cursed him at a distance, but, as they spoke in the Indian tongue, of which the trapper understood not a word, their taunts and curses fell upon unheed- ing ears. “T s’pose they'll burn me, durn ’em!”’ mut- tered the trapper, as he looked around upon the long line of hostile faces by which he was surrounded, ‘ Ef they’d only give me a single chance at’em, I’d clean out a few afore I go under. But, 1 ain’t dead it; I guess I’m as good as a dozen dead men. *ve been as nigh as this to death afore, an’ pulled through. Luck may turn an’ give me a show; then let the red heathen look out,” From the crowd of women and children the Abe Indian girl, White Bird, soon appeared. he said a few words to one of the warriors who guarded the prisoner, when he readily let her pass, for few braves of the Blackfoot tribe cared to thwart the will of the daughter of their great chief. The girl came straight to the side of the help- less man. “The beaver-catcher is in danger,” she said, in pea sweet goats aking the English tongue bat © oni a. a slight In ian accent. al, beauty,” answered the old trapper, in his Ld way, “I wouldn’t mind givin’ all I’m worth—it ain't much, though—to git out of this ’tarnal scrape.” “Do not fear to freely,” said the girl. ‘None of the be epost oe t guard you under- stand a word of ope ‘*T wish they did, the fe decned heathen cusses,” said the trapper, with rage in his tone. ‘ They couldn’t have captivated me ef they hadn’t "a? been twenty ag’in’ one.” “You have lost your life for me,” said White re mournfully, while tears gathered in her eyes “Don’t speak of it, beau We've all got to qe some time. They’ll probably gin me a taste of that air fire afore I’m an hour older.” The girl shuddered at the thought. “Don't you mind ’bout me,” said the trapper. “Tm old an’ tough, an’ I don’t think they'll tor- ment me much; 80 don’t you worry ’bout me, Jist listen now, an’ P'M tell roe Be how you kin find the young feller. He an’ friend will need Ys ur help to git out of this spesky scrape fur hey’ll never 4 out of it themselves. ou know where the high gray rock overhangs the river, "bout four miles from hyer down the stream?” “Yes, Lover’s Leap, it is called. A young ny whose father would not let her the brave she loved, jumped from the Bock nto ps river, and perished in the dark wa- ters,” said the girl. « Jes? So ,” said the trapper; ‘‘ thar is consider- able of a "pool in the river jist thar. Wal, jist at the foot of that air rock is a leetle cave, the mouth of it all kivered up with bushes. In that air cave is the young feller an’ his friend.” “<] will remember your directions. I will sawe your friends from the Blackfeet, and con- duct them safe ae h the forest to se Prt scence ng settlements; oa es ee ee es See replied Pom ET SL RS Se NT, POT ee ” said @ trap- ‘“‘No, not at. present, beauty,” ol, ‘The chiefs are coming from the lod the girl, suddenly, as she glided from per. As she had said, the aoa headed by the White Wolf, were coming from the council- lodge. Soon "the ey gathered around the prisoner. At a motion of the White Wolf, sai trapper was raised to a sitting position. ‘‘ Beaver-catcher,”’ began the White Wolf, “the braves of the Blackfeet have sat in the council-lodge; they have talked of the fate of the long-legged trapper. The white-skin has caught the beaver and the muskrat in the wa- ters of the Flathead; he has hunted in the valley of the Blackfeet, and on the war-path he has slain the Tall Buil, a great Blackfoot chief; his spirit looks down from the bappy hunting- grounds and calls for vengeance on 6-face murderer. The chiefs of the Blackfeet have decided that the beaver-catcher shall die at the torture-stake. Let the white-skin prepare, for death is near.” The chief had addressed the prisoner in the English tongue, which he spoke fiuently. The tra Seppe moved rot a single muscle when he learned his doom. ‘‘ Look hyer, chief, ” he. cried, “T want a chance to re as ms to. your talk, but your people don’t understand my lan e. ill one of your braves translate for me? **T will!” responded a cece a ge al voice in English, and the Spotted Elk stepped forth Som behind the warriors. The astonishment of Old Sol was visible on his features—on the hard muscles of his face that had not changed a whit when his fearful doom was revealed him 6 Mudhole, by thunder!” was the trapper’s exclamation, as he looked upon the features of the Indian. ‘““Uph! Mudhole once, now Spotted Elk, a chief of the Blackfeet,” replied the savage. “You'll do fur what I want. Wiil you tell these Injuns jist what I say?” asked the trap- er. “Yes,” was the lacnnic response, ** Wal, then, jist open ; an ers, » an] then in a calm, quiet tone the ol trapper | commenced to abuse the whole Blackfoot nation. He told them that they were dogs who ran before the white man’s tread; that they were cowards who feared to attack a foe unless ten to one; that he, single-handed, could defeat any ten warriors of the Blackfoot nation, and defied them to the test. All these bitter words mes Spotted EK re- ted to his pera exact] e had spoken hem. A howl of anger fe the enr, braves greeted the close of the Sit cate re- marks, atid but for the personal interference of the White Wolf and other leading chiefs, the multitude would then and there have satisfied their rage and have saved the fearless man from the torture-stake. The ei a braves at last driven back and quieted, the trapper was carried to a stout oak tree, at the foot of which dried wood had been laced and all preparations made for the fire hat was to be his death. - Held firm by a dozen or so of stout warriors, the trapper’s arms were unbound; then he was laced with his back to the tree, and his wrists rought together behind it and lashed tightly vite deer-skin thongs; then the thongs were re- moved from his feet, and his ankles lashed firm- ly to the tree, the thongs passing around it. The are being firmly bound, the chiefs retired rom him, seemingly for a brief deliberation be- fore they applied the fire. One chief alone re- mained by the side of the doomed SEREP SE that chief was ie Spotted Elk. “ Longlegs is in danger,” said the chief, quiet- ly, in ‘Engl ish, while he was apparently examiaing if the lashings were secure. ‘*Doath is nee me in the. face, ‘Mudhole, 4g returned the tra “T guess the Blackfeet have got me thie tin “ Does Longlegs Teinember when he took the. wounded Indian to e and cured hi- wounds?” asked the Spotted i fit. ‘“¥es,” replied the trapper; “does the chiet remember it?” “Tf the beaver-catcher waits he will see, The Mndhole i of 75 a great chief of the nation. hen the White Wolf dies the 8 Elk will be the chief of the tribe,” said 1 dian. “ And you are the Spotted Elk?” replied the tra ac the mud-turtle has beeome an eagle.” trapper significant : an. chief has wena et his word. - a , Meier! Sisk tae a! Ree otted, In- —_ So oir
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he loses it, he loses all,” sententiously replied the Indian, stalking away from the trapper. Sol looked after the Indian, with a puzzled expression mae face. He could not understand the nature of the savage. His words seemed td promise hope, but, the time for help must come soon or not at all; hours were minutes now. The oak to which the trapper was bound stood at tho upper end of the viliage.. Between it and the foresé, in one direction, lay nothing but the Indian corral or horse-pound, which was, as the trapper could see by the light of the fire that blazed in wront of the council-lodge, filled with horses. Ten paces from the prisoner stood the | circle of chieis; beyond them were congregated the rest of the vil —the common warriors the women and children—all anxious to behold the death of the famous beaver-catcher. “yor they come!” cried the hy 88d. be- | tween his clenched teeth, as a brave advanced | with a torch of blazing wood to fire the mass | beneath the trapper’s feet. ‘‘I’m in fur it now! No hope, no chance fur a squeeze fur life. My time has come an’ Pll face the music like a man! The ’tarnal red. skunks shan’tsay that the Giant | Trapper squealed even when the fire were | a-burnin’ his innards out.” The warrior applied the blazing torch to the | dry wood beneath the trapper’s feet, then re- | tired to the crowd to enjoy the agony of the dying white-skin. StS The trapper could hear the crackling of the flames as the dry wood ee eT the fire; the | smoke began to ascend and blind the eyes of the helpless prisoner, Sol could already feel the heat of the burnin wood, and ‘in that, apparently the last hour o his life, the rough old trapper, the man of the ie and prairie, commended himself to his aker. Tien, in his deadly pon with the pale king of terrors staring him full in the face, he sudden- ly became conscious that the thongs that had | bound his feet to the tree and his wrists together were loosened suddenly, and the handle of a knifo was thrust into his hand. The trapper then understood the situation in a moment. A hoarse voice whispered in his ear: ae ee yn # ‘‘ Make for the corral—the gate is unfastened —turn the horses loose—you know the rest!” i The brapper knew the voice instantly; it was 4 the voice of Mudhole, once the outcast warrior, now one of the great chiefs of the Blackfeet. The trapper with a single glance took in the scene before him; then, with a terrific yell Pic which rung like a of thunder on the ears of eat of: the astonished Indians, he leaped from the tor- \ ture-stake, dashed through the flames before W him, and, knife in hand, ran swiftly toward the : fora moment the Indians were para- a corral. . lyzed by the sudden movement of the prisoner; a moment they gazed upon the strange scene, # ant then, beg cries of rage sprung forward to Bal intercopt the trapper. 5 “3 me em Longlegs ran swiftly, he did so now, for he was well aware that life was the prize at stakc. On he went, exerting every muscle heading for the corral. Though he had gained a few yards by the quickness of his start, and tho stirprise of the Indians, yet, as they were nearer in a direct line, to the corral, the cbject- ive point in this rate race for life, the trap- r fod need of all his splendid powers. -As-he ran he calculated the odds against him. On his left a single warrior was running, knife in hand, on a course that, gradually approach- ‘ing tho line on which the trapper was running, must, before he reached the corral, bring them together, That warrior was the White Wolf. On. his. right another Indian was close on his track, but from him the gee sin did not expect mn “gem hier was no other than the Spotted .k; the rest of the Indians were fast falling be- hind, the terrific pace at which the flying man _ was running being too much for them. _A few: more and he and White Wolf must inevitably come together, ; ad ‘ Kither he a ee epee e trapper, throngh g-knife put into eeemy the lang burst from the i their chief gaining upon and the ra fortune was in his | en the powe« of the. ‘Sol Ginger. by the example of the chief, seized y the leg. With a terrific kick, Sol sent the cur yelping into the dust, but, b the motion, he lost headway, stumbled and fe upon his knee. The White Wolf, who was close upon his heels, raised his scalping-knife and aimed a death-blow at the fallen trapper. A moment the knife glittered in the air, then it descended with terrible force, driven with all the strength of the savage’s arm into the bod enco the trapper of the—Spotted Elk, who had thrown himself | forward to receive the blow intended for the trapper. . us the Indian kept his faith, and Mudhole paid the debt he owed to Old Sol. The trapper regained his feet, and, with a motion as guick as a cat, drove his long knife to the heart of the White Wolf, who in vain at- tempted to parry the terrific stroke of the trap- per’s arm. With a hollow groan, the great chief of the Blackfeet, the famed warrior White Wolf, sunk upon the earth, the blood streaming free from kis wound. By his side lay the Spotted Elk—dead! , On again went the now hopeful man. The Indians in his rear had gained a little upon him, but they paused for a moment by the side of their dying chief, and then again, with cries of vengeance, pursued. Gaining the corral, Old Sol burst in upon the horses, yelling like a demon. The frightened steeds burst through the open gates upon the ercy'd of advancing Indians like a whirlwind, and the savages for a moment, were obliged to aban- don the pursuit to save themselves from being trampled to death by the horses. The trapper Sige by the confusion to swing himself upon he back of a roan-colored pony, and, guiding the animal by the deer-skin halter, plunged through an opening in the thicket, and rode fu- riously along the little path beyond. With cries of rage the savages mounted in hot haste, and set off in chase of the flying foeman, who had not only escaped the torture-stake but had slain their great chieh& On through the wood went the chase—the trapper riding for dear life and the savages fol- lowing hard upon his track, guided by the noise of his horse’s hoofs. Five of the Indians, who were better mounted than the others, kept together*in the advance. On they went, listening eagerly to the sound of the horse’s hoofs before them, By that sound they could tell whether they were gaining upon the fugitive or losing ground, At first the trap- pa seemed to gain upon them; the sound of the oofs grew fainter and fainter to their ears, then, to the joy of the Indians, the pace of the fugitive seemed to slacken, for the noise of the horse’s gullop grew louder and louder; they were gaining upon the trapper fast, Théy urged their ponies to increased speed—now they caught sight of the steed, flying through the thicket openings; they were gaining rapidly upon the horseman. On they flew, riding like mad. At last they dashed alongside of the fly- ing horse, to find that it was—riderless, e cunning trapper had slipped off the horse during the chase, concealed himself in the underbrush, and probably chuckled as the Indians rode mad- ly by him, in pursuit of the affrighted horse. The Indians held a council. hen and where the trapper had left the horse and taken to the thicket they could not guess, and in the dense darkness of the night, scouting after the trail of such a cunning woodman was folly. With heavy hearts they returned to the vil- lage, and told of the escape of the long-legged eet e Blackfoot nation that night mourned over two great calamities; the death of their ie chief and the escape of the beaver- catcher. a CHAPTER XII. LINKS IN A CHAIN. THE White Bird, after the conversation with the old ag as took advantage of the confusion attending the bearing of the white to the tor- ture-stake, to leave the village. When she heard He the lips of the White Wolf the doom of the ver-catcher, she knew she had no power to save him; her weak aid would avail him no- pings 80, sorrowfully, she resolved not to be- hold rg but to flee from the village, join her lover, and conduct him at once from the valley. Her keen womanly sense told her that the savages, busy with the torture of the mee | less prisoner, w not for the a Ra BS would not seek for the rest of orning: by that time she h to be able to leaa her aver and his friend far be. She knew that ler sal his men were gua see diy lower énd of the valley, for she L& one of the chiefs as to the whereabouts of tle missing warriors. That fact troubled her but | little, for she knew of a roc ss by the ‘ Bit- ter Stream,” as if was ca y the Blackfee through which she might conduct the whites, an the valley. _ The Indian piri gained the wood, and follow- ing a little path, came to the river. Down the river’s bank she went with hasty steps, for time indeed was precious. An hour later found her at the entrance of the little cave, ‘‘Harry!” she called, softly, ‘’tis I, White Bird!” Courtney, watching within the cave, knew well the voice, and, in an instant more, she was folded to her lover’s heart. Briefly she tol of the surprise and capture of the trapper. Bitter was the sorrow of the two men, for they had learned to love the brave old man. .Their sorrow cculd not save him, for, as the White Bird told them, by that time the guide was doubtless a corpse. pense The White Bird proposed her plan of flight, to which both the whites agreed. \ ‘“When shall we attempt it?’ asked Court- ney 7 “The night ‘In an hour,” replied the girl. is growing clearer; the moon. should rise soon and give us light,” “Poor Sol!” cried Courtney; ‘I shall never forget: him.” ‘Nor I either,” replied Wright. ‘I shali always blame myself as being the cause of hig death, for, but for me, he would not have ven- tured into this wilderness,” * F. And where was he whose untimely death they were at that moment deploring? Mt mak- | ing his way through the forest toward the cave as fast as his long legs would carry him. — His idea in taking the horse from the Indian | village had been to deceive the red-skins. Ho | knew well how easy it would be to slip from the back of the animal, conceal himself in the bushes, and Jet the red warriors follow on the trail of the runaway beast, The cunning trick hed been successful; the savages had been thrown off the trail, which they could not re- gain untill the morning, and then not without difficulty. ; _ “Now, then,” cried the old trapper, commun- ing with himself in his usual fashion, as he strode through the forest, with his long, tireless stride, ‘‘ ef the leetle gal has found the cave al} right, an’ is thar, we'll put for the settlements to one’t. It won’t do to tell her, though, that Isettled the hash of the big chief; he may be a relation of hern.” Old Sol reached at last the little cave, and entered it much to the surprise of the inmates. cheery voice had told them who it was. ‘**Sol!” cried Courtney. “Is it possible you are alive?” : ‘You bet!” was the hearty rejoinder. ‘‘Why I saw you at the torture-stake,” said the Indian girl. “Sartin,” replied the trapper, ‘but I didn’t stay thar, thanks to Mudhole. He cut the thonge that bound me to the stake, put a knife into my hand, an’ then I run.a muck through the Injun village. It were a lively time for a few utes, you bet! I reckon the Blackfeet won't forgit the doin’s of this night fur some years to ‘come And the old wereer was right; for yeare after the events we have related, by ck- foot camp-fires, on the trail and cn the hunt, the wonderful escape of the ¥ hite-skinned bea ver-catcber, who Lore a charmed iife, and the death of their great chief at his bands, was tod by the old warriors to the young braves. Nor was the strange death of the Spotted bik for tten in the annals of his ‘rive, ne gudell lieved him to be $ who spr tees to give his own life to save the beaver-catcher, We Courtney detriled the plan of White Bird to esea cae - valley. Old Sol nodded bis head in approve , "4 Tt wi Frork, I reckon,” he said; ‘the moon will soon be up, an’ then we'll be goin’.” | PY es, Sutin 7} bid farewell to this fatal valley forever,” cried Courtney. : « But, how about the. fifty-thousand—dollar treasure that you were goin’ to jun village?” questioned Sol. “YT think I shall leave that in your hands. You shall form a and learn the truth.” __ ‘Jes’ so!” cried the trapper. ah nie Da aied Conrtney, feel sorry to leave your - y Rs i A As oe 6 BROOD xhiee do you: ae thus evade the red pickets at the lower end of — possessed with an eyil spirit git up in the In- “That will suit ‘eo oy wl J ’ qi F p 4 £
Page 16
16 | “No,” simply answered the girl. ‘Will you not regret the step?’ asked tho | lover, softly ; his tone could only reach the gir'’s | ear, **No; [love you better than I do any thing in allthe world. Ihave loved you from the first moment that I saw you in the settlement at Fort Benton. Do you not remember that I | showed you my face there?” * Yes,” replied Courtney, ‘‘I do; the most | beautiful faco that I ever saw.” “Ah! you think sonow; but, will you always think so? ** Yes, while I live I shail love you. Have you not left home, friends and all for me?” cried Courtney. ‘‘Have you not saved my life? But for you I should be even now a prisoner in | the hands of the Blackfeet.” “J do not think you would deceive me, and if you do, the en White Bird can but aie,” re- plied the girl, sadly. ‘“While I live my lifo is ledged to you!” cried Courtney. ‘ You have left home, friends, country, all for me, but you shall not regret them, for my love shall make amends for all.” And over the soul of the lovers crept the holy calm that pure love alone can bring. Young hearts were they that lived truly for each other, “Then you will undertake the expedition that I spoke of?” Wright asked of the big trapper. “You jist bet { will!” emphatically returned old Sol. ‘I calculate I kin wallop the bull Blackfoot nation either with fist, legs or head. Tain’t much of a fightin’? man; but, when-you pen me into a corner, and say, ‘fight or die,’ yee Ais, pretty ginerally reckon that it’ll be | ght. ‘You shall lead the expedition to find the | heir, and if you are successful you shall have | ; | | | one-half of the fifty thousand dollars,” said Wright. “What on airth could I do with so much money? I ain’t. gob any use fur it,” returned the trapper. | “Well, you shall fix your own terms,” said Wright. ** Jas’ so; couldn’t be anything more squaz’,” replied the trapper; ‘‘ but, s’pose I just ask the leetie gal over thar ’bout the critter we’re arter.” “Do,” said Wright; ‘‘we may learn some- thing.” ‘*Say, White Bird, I don’t know as you know it, but we’re arter somebody in your Village.” ‘* Yes,” returned the Indian girl; ‘ youseek a treasure in the village of the Blackfeet.” ‘* True as preachin’!” said the trapper, “ but as the Injuns somehow know of our plan, we've kinder mide a failure,” ‘‘No,” returned the girl, quietly, “you have succeeded.” The trapper stared at her with astonishment. Wright and Conrtney also were puzzled at her words. “| reckon you don’t exactly understand me, lectle gal,” said Sol. “You see, the fact is, beauty, we seek a treasure, as Misther Wright calls it, worth fifty thousand dollars.” ‘Yes, I know you seek what you call a treas- are, but, how it can be worth that sum, I can’t imagine. But, I again say, you will succeed.” The girl spoke with calm assurance. " Book yer,” said the oll guide, not able to make head or tail of her words; ‘‘ we’re arter a leetie gal—” * Yes, Tam the girl!” said the White Bird. “ Tinder!” cried the trapper. Wright and Courtney started in astonish- ment, “Yes; I heard the White Wolf say in the white settlement that you sought me, You see Isave you the trouble by coming,” said the 1, But the girl we seek is white,” said Wright. “Soaml. Taken from my -parents by the Indians when a child; on my arm, in little blue characters, is my name.” ** And that name is?’ questioned Wright, ea- rly. er Delia Curtis,” replied the girl. * Hooray!” cried the trapper, gleefully. And then the story of her parents was told'to the White Bird, and her le history was hear l by the three men who risked their lives to rescue her from the savages. The White Bird bad not, until her return from Fort Benton, known that she was not of the blood of the Indians ‘Then one of the old aws had revealed to her ber history. nan hour from the time that the trapper had entered the cave, the moon came slowly ‘ver the tree-tops, The time had come for flight; so, through the Beadle’s Half-Dime Libra , defile in the rocks, conducted b |} 216 _ 279 Op Wincn, THR Rirte Kina. By T. C. Har- bird—or, as we should call her, went the little party. ry. the White elia Curtis— At the little glade, on the Bitter Stream, where they had camped, they found—as the trapper had predicted—their horses, for the horses of Wright and Courtney bad followed the example of the clay-colored animal of the big trapper where they had been left by their masters. in remaining close to the spot With the aid of the horses, the little party reaclied Fort Benton in safety and without see- ing a single hostile savage. At Fort Benton, Wright, Courtney and Delia parted with their old guide and faithful friend, and took passage to St. Louis. In St. Louis Delia easily proved her identity, took posses- sion of her property, and then became the wife | of Harry Courtney. Wright received his fifty thousand dollars and settled down contentedly. As for our long-legged friend, the shrewd beaver-catcher, he stil] traps in the North-west, and no man brings a larger or finer pack of ltries into fort y called Sou, THE. GIANT TRAPPER. THE END. enton than Ginger, familiar- BEADLE’S HALF-DIME LIBRARY. 218. Frirz To THe Fronr. By ©. L. Wheeler..... 214 WoLtraane. By ape Frederick Whittaker. . 215 Caprain’ BoLLer. y T.C. Harbaugh ..... Bison Bruu., By Col. Prentiss Ingraham...... Caprain Crack-Smor, By BE, L. Wheeler... . 218 Tienr Tom. By OllCoomes .—__...... 219 Desparp, THE DueList, By Philip 8S. Warne. 2°20 Tom Tanner. By Charles Morris........ 217 221 Suear-CoaTep Sam. By Edward L. Wheeler. | 222 Grit, tHe Bravo Sport, By Col. Ingraham, 223 Ozark Aur. By Edward Willett .. ...... 224 Dasnina Dick. By Oll Coomes. ....., Z 225 Sam CHancoaAL, THE PReMIuM Darky. By 227 228 Lrrrie Winorire. By Oll Coomes, ise 7s 229 Crmion Katz. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham . 230 Tum YaNKEs Ragan. By C. D. Clark.....,... 231 Pirucky Puiu. . By T..C. Harbaugh ..... ..... 232 Gonp-Dust Dick. By E. L. Wheeler... .. 233 Jox Buck or AnGEs. By Albert W. Aiken.. 234 Benrro, THe Youne Horse-Breaker. By Buchekin Sanienctsac i weds tes had ; 235 SHapow SaM, THE MeEsseNGerR Boy. By 210 Cyctone Kire By Edward L. Wheeler.. ie 241 But Bravo Anp His Bear Parps, By T. C. EAPDRURNS oss. sw cas Wit ices 12 Tae Two ‘Bioons.’ By Charles Morris.: ... 248 Tus Disauisep Guipg. By Oil Coomes = 244 Stsrra Sam, THE I’rontTreR Ferrer. By Ed- ward L, Wheeler a Paice eisecy 245 Merux, tHe Mippy. By Prentiss Ingraham. 245 Grant Groner. By Buckskin Sam ....... .. 217 O.n Gaizziy AND His Pers. By Captain 252 Dick Daswaway. By Charles Morris. ....... 253 Sizera Sin’s Parv. By E. L. Wheeler...... 251 Tm Haur Bioop, By Hdward §. Ellis. ..... 255 Caprain Apotio. By T. O. Harbaugh ae 255 Youye Kentvex. By Captain Mark Wilton.. 257 Tar Lost Hunrsrs. By J. F.C. Adams., 258 Srerra Sam’s SEVEN. 259 Tar Goupen Harpoon. é By George L, Aiken.. 270 Brizzarp Brn. By Captain Mark Wilton.... 271 Tus Hues Hentrer. By Edward 8. Ellis 272 Mingskry Mixr. By O!l Coomes .. ...- .-. 273 Jompo Jox. By Edward L, Wheeler... ..... 274 Jouty Jmm, By Charles Morris — .. ....-++ 275 Arizona Jack. By Buckskin Sam ......... 276 Mente Monter’s Cruise, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham .. .... pat coe heen bee segalent 277 Denver Dorn. By Edward L. Wheeler ; 278 Tue Turer Trappers. Rv Maj. L, W. Carson. baugh a LA Ey ae 280 Menie Montr’s Fre. By Prentiss Ingraham 281 Denver Dovur’s Viccory. Rv BE. L. Wheeler. 222 Toe Tyro Derective. By Elward Willett. . 283 Invian Jom. By Major L, W. Carson.... .... Seeee Sez 5e . d5¢ . Be Eee — _ 284 Tur Sea MaraAuper. By Prentiss Ingraham. a By Ed. L. Wheeler. 285 Denver DoLu’s DEcoy. 286 Josu, THE Boy TenpERFOOT,. By Capt. Mark 287 238 Tar ScaLp KING. 289 JouLy Jtm’s Jos. 290 LiarLe oxFIReE. 201 y T. C. Harbaugh.. es by Edward Willett...... .. 206 Denver Douu’'s. Print. , by E. L. Wheelers 5c¢ 207 THe TARANTULA or Taos. Ey Buckskin Sam, 298 Toe Watrer-Hocunp, By Charl’s Morris.. 5c 299 A No. 1, THE DasHinG ToLt-Taxrer. by E. ott 204 29 295 Fearvess Pur, L. Wheeier en % 360 THe Sky Demon. By Ol] Coomes.. ; By Major E. L, St. Vrain.. Ly T. C. Har- 801 LEADVILLE NICK. 802°THe Movunrain DEECTIVE. WEUST sean <55!'— ede ers 6 es 5c 8038-"Liza JANE, THE GrrL Miner. . By Wheeler. 5c 804 Toe Dead Sxor Darpy. By Col. P. 'ngraham, de 305 DasHaway, or Daxora. By Charles Mcrris. 5c 806 Neck-T1z Nep. By Maj. H. B. Stcdcard. 5e 307 Tue StranGe Parp.. By Buckskin Sam. .. . 5c 808 Keno Kir. By Cc). Prentiss l gra) am 5e 809 Drapwoop Dick’s Fie Drar. By Wheeler... 5e 310 Tae Barranca Vi orr. By Jos. E. Becper, Jr. Se 811 THe Rovine Srerr. By Edward Willett... 5e 812 Reprop Rune. By Major E. L. St. Vrain.... 5¢ 3138 Cimarron Jack. by Frederick Dewey. .. be 314 THe Mysterious MARAVDER. By ry rebam, 5¢ 812 Nep, THe Capin Boy. By Jack Fermazut... 5e 316 Op Ecurrse. By T. CO. Harbanyh,. .. Be 817 Peacock Prete. By,Lieut. Alfrcd Tl] orne.... 5¢ 818 Ker-wnoor, Ker-wHoo! By Puckskin Sem. & 319 Toe Biuack Rirer. By Jos. EB, | adger, Jr... 5e 820 Tur Sea Sorceress. By Jack Forregut .... 5e 821 Deapwoop DPick’s Dozrn. By EK. L. Wheeler. 5c $22 Nemo. tre Derrcrive. jy Edward Willett... 5c 323 AnkanssaW Jack By Harry Hazaie, ... OC $24 Rare Respy. By Charles Mervis :.. .. be $25 Keriey, Hickxry & Co By E L. Wheeler. . 5c $26 Bru Brake, THE Su.aver. By T. C. Barkaugh., Sc 827 (rEEPING Cat, 1HE Capro,. Ry Bvekskir Sam, 5c 828 Tur Sky Drteciivrs, By Mcjrr Mickey Free, 5¢ $29 Rep-Sxin Tom. By Harry\ Hazard, . be 880 Livre Quick-Sror. By Fdwaid L. Wheeler. 5e 831 }:1ack Nick. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker, . 5c 882 Frio Frep, Ey Luckskin Sam, .. 50 383 Briustone Ros. 1 y Major E. L. St. Vrain,... 5¢ 334 Kanaaroo Kit. By E. lL. Wheeler ...... .. 5e¢ 885 Oty Dounie Fist. By Jc a ae FE, Badger, Jr.. 5e 336 Bra Penson. a T. C. Harbaugh,...... Ee 387 Ben. Brrv.. By W. 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