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* * * * *
Semi-Monthly Novels Series.
No. 214.
BEADLE’S DIME NOVELS
[Illustration]
THE FOREST MONSTER.
BEADLE AND COMPANY, 98 WILLIAM STREET NEW YORK.
Castell & Co., 3 Front St., Brooklyn.
* * * * *
ROMANCE OF THE WOODS AND LAKES!
A most charming story of wildwood life is
Beadle’s Dime Novels, No. 215,
TO ISSUE TUESDAY, OCTOBER 25,
introducing a favorite writer in a favorite field, viz.:
THE WHITE HERMIT: OR, The Unknown Foe.
A ROMANCE OF THE LAKES AND WOODS.
BY W. J. HAMILTON, AUTHOR OF “THE GIANT CHIEF,” “THE SILENT SLAYER,”
ETC.
The interest which centers around the early years of settlement, when
what is now the lovely region of Central New York was a wilderness of
woods, streams, lakes, cataracts and rugged hills, is perennial; and
in the fierce Iroquois, the dreaded Six Nations, the half savage white
ranger, the colonial trooper, the resolute settler, the true forest
women, the romance writer finds almost exhaustless material for the
construction of his historic stories. Of the writers in this field of
fiction Mr. Hamilton is well known as a master. He gives such pictures
of forest life, such clear-cut portraits of forest men, as render his
creations intensely interesting and attractive.
This last work of his hand is one of impressive merit, and will greatly
delight the lovers of forest romances.
☞ For sale by all Newsdealers and Booksellers; or sent, _post-paid_, to
any address, on receipt of price--TEN CENTS.
=BEADLE AND COMPANY=, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
THE FOREST MONSTER; OR, LAMORA, THE MAID OF THE CANON.
A ROMANCE OF THE FAR WEST.
BY CHAS. E. LASALLE,
AUTHOR OF “BURT BUNKER, TRAPPER,” “THE GREEN RANGER,”
“BUFFALO TRAPPER,” ETC.
NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.
* * * * *
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by
BEADLE AND COMPANY,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
(No. 214.)
* * * * *
THE FOREST MONSTER.
CHAPTER I. THE MYSTERIOUS RESCUE.
The wind was howling over the prairie, with a sharp, penetrating power,
while a few feathery flashes eddying through the air, showed that
although it was the season of spring, yet in this elevated region of
the Far West, there was scarcely the first premonition of its breath.
The night was closing in, and the vast peaks of the Black Hills, that
had loomed up white and grand in the distance, were gradually fading
from view until they merged into the thickly gathering gloom, while the
blasts that whirled the snow in blinding drifts about their tops, came
moaning and sweeping over the bleak prairie, as if searching for some
one to inclose in its icy grasp, and to strangle out of life.
Now and then the desolate howl of the mountain wolf, came borne on the
wind, adding to the gloomy desolation of the scene, while the dark,
swarming multitude of buffaloes hurried over the frozen ground, as if
fearful of being caught in the chilling blast. It was a bad night to be
lost upon the prairie.
Is there no one abroad to-night?
From the grove of hardy cottonwood yonder, a starlike point of light
suddenly flashes out upon the night. Surely that is the light of some
hunter’s camp-fire.
A party of emigrants have halted for the night, and this is the first
camp-fire that has been started, for it is not only cold, but there is
cooking to be done, and a fire is indispensable.
The emigrant party numbers some twenty men, a half-dozen women, and
about double that number of children. They are on their way to Oregon,
and have penetrated thus far without encountering any obstacle worth
noting, although for days they had been journeying through the very
heart of the Indian country.
Among the party was a man named Fred Hammond, who had joined it more
for the purpose of adventure than any thing else. He was mounted on a
magnificent black horse, was an amateur hunter, and a general favorite
with the company.
Among the latter was not a single experienced mountaineer or
prairie-man. They had secured the service of an old man, who professed
to be thoroughly acquainted with the overland route to Oregon, but
there was more than one who suspected his knowledge and believed he was
nothing but a fraud.
Extremely good fortune had attended them thus far. They had caught
sight of numerous parties of Indians, and indeed scarcely a day passed
without something being seen of them. They had exchanged shots at
quite a distance, but no harm had befallen the whites, and they had
penetrated thus far on their way to distant Oregon.
But Hammond and one or two of the members were filled with misgiving.
Through the day they had seen evidence of an immense Indian party being
in their vicinity, and they feared the worst. It was with pain that
they saw the huge camp-fire kindled, and Hammond called his comrade,
Beers, to one side, and said, in his earnest voice:
“I tell you, things look darker than ever before.”
“So I think.”
“I believe we are followed by over a thousand Indians, and they intend
attacking us to-night.”
“What shall we do?”
“God only knows; I don’t like that camp-fire.”
“Let it burn for a short time; they don’t need it long, and then it can
be allowed to die out.”
“But it will betray our position.”
“Do you suppose there is any means possible by which we can conceal it?”
“Not entirely, but partly.”
As the night deepened it became of intense darkness. There was no moon,
and the sky was entirely overcast with clouds, so that there was
scarcely any light at all. The few flakes of snow that were whirling
through the air had entirely ceased, but the wind still whistled
through the grove.
“There is a moon up there,” said Hammond, “and if the clouds break away
at all, we shall have enough light to guide us on our way.”
On account of the danger, which all knew threatened them, a number
proposed that as soon as their animals had had sufficient rest, they
should move out of the timber and continue their journey; but this was
finally overruled, as they were not only likely to go astray in the
darkness, but the Indians could easily find them, from the unavoidable
noise made by their wagons.
If attacked on the open prairie at night, they were entirely at the
mercy of their assailants, who could easily encircle and tomahawk and
shoot them all, while in the grove they could make a fight with some
prospect of success.
So it was prudently determined to remain where they were.
In the course of an hour, when there was no imperative necessity for a
fire, it was allowed to slumber and finally die out. The wagons were
placed in a rude circle, with the animals within, while the women
and children, and such men as were relieved from duty, sought their
quarters for the night, and soon silence rested upon all.
A double guard was set. Ten men were scattered around the outer edge of
the globe at regular distances from each other, on the alert for the
first indications of danger.
Beers and Hammond stood next to each other, and the former finally left
his station and took his position beside the latter.
“What’s the use?” he muttered, by way of apology. “When it’s so dark
that you can’t see any thing, where’s the good of straining your eyes?
As we have got to depend on our sense of hearing, we’ll help each
other.”
The air was so sharp and keen that they had great difficulty in keeping
themselves comfortable. They dare not stamp their feet or swing their
arms, and such movements as they made, were made with a stealth and
caution that nearly robbed them of all their virtue.
At the end of an hour the sky gave some signs of clearing. It was
somewhat lighter overhead, but still the earth below was little
benefited thereby. There was scarcely any variations in the wind,
although several fancied that it had somewhat decreased.
Another hour passed drearily away, and then Beers suddenly laid his
hand on the arm of Hammond.
“What is it?”
“Hark!”
Borne to them on the wind came the distant but distinct sound of a
horse’s feet, as he galloped over the hard prairie.
The rapid clamp of the hoofs were heard for an instant, and then the
varying wind swept the sound away from their ears, and all was still.
But in a moment they rallied out again with startling
distinctness--then grew fainter--died away and rung out once more.
“Some one is riding fast,” said Beers.
“And he is coming this way,” added Hammond.
A few minutes convinced them of the truth. A single horseman was riding
at great speed over the prairie, and was manifestly aiming straight for
the grove where the emigrants had halted for the night.
As a matter of course, all the sentinels had observed it by this time,
and there was great excitement among them. They gathered about Hammond
to receive his directions.
“Go back to your stations,” said he. “Keep your eyes and ears open for
others, whether they be mounted or afoot, and I will attend to this
one.”
His orders were obeyed, for he was looked upon as having authority in
this matter, and with an interest difficult to understand they awaited
the coming of the horseman.
As the latter came nearer, he seemed to be heading straight for the
point where Hammond and Beers were standing.
During the last few moments, the sky had cleared so rapidly that
objects could be distinguished for quite a distance, and the two men
strained their eyes through the gloom to catch sight of the stranger.
“There he is,” whispered Hammond, as the dim outlines of a horse was
discovered through the darkness.
The horseman had reined his horse down to a walk, and was advancing
quite cautiously. He continued onward until within a dozen feet of the
two men, when he reined up.
“Who comes there?” asked Hammond.
“A friend.”
“What do you seek?”
“You are in great danger, and I have come to warn you of it.”
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Beers, in an undertone; “that is a _woman_!”
Hammond had noticed the wondrously soft and musical voice, and he now
walked forward, so as to stand beside the horse. The dim light showed
that Beers spoke the truth; it was a woman seated upon the horse.
“May I ask your name?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then the female answered:
“I am Lamora; and I speak the truth.”
“We do not doubt it,” responded the amazed Hammond. “What is it you
have to say?”
“A thousand Blackfeet warriors are coming down on this grove, two or
three hours before sunrise, and if you remain, there will not be one
who will escape alive.”
“What shall we do?”
“Make ready as soon as possible and start westward. Let there not be a
moment’s delay, and you will be saved.”
“But they can follow us to-morrow, (if not to-night,) and attack us by
daylight.”
“They can, but they will not,” replied Lamora, with the greatest
earnestness. “This is a great war-party on their way southward to
fight the Cheyennes. They are to meet a long ways off to-morrow; the
Blackfeet have given themselves just enough time to massacre you and
your friends, if you remain in this grove, as they expect you will; but
if they come here and do not find you, they will have no time to follow
up your wagons, and thus, you see, if you improve your time, you will
be saved.”
“Beers,” said Hammond, turning to the man beside him, “rouse the men
and have this thing done without a moment’s lost time, while I make a
few more inquiries of our unknown friend.”
Beers darted away, and almost immediately was detected the rapid moving
to and fro, and the bustle of getting ready to start.
“Your orders are being obeyed,” said Hammond, addressing the lady, who
still sat her horse beside him.
“It is well that they are,” she replied, with a sigh of relief; “the
Blackfeet know that you are encamped here, and they have no reason to
think you will not be here when they are ready to strike.”
“Do you know where they are?”
“Over that ridge of hills, several miles to the northward. They have
been riding, throwing the tomahawk, and making every preparation for
the great battle which is to come off to-morrow between them and the
Cheyennes.”
“This, then, is only a diversion?”
“That is it; they naturally think that, as they find you in their way,
they may as well indulge in a little preliminary practice.”
“We were fearing an attack, as we knew that there were a large number
of Indians in our vicinity, and we heard the sound of your horse’s feet
long before we heard you. Being thus warned and prepared, could we not
have made a successful defense, with the shelter of these trees, which
you probably know are very numerous about us?”
“No,” was the instant answer of Lamora; “if there were no more than a
hundred Blackfeet, you might repel them; but a thousand would overwhelm
you. There are sounds of preparation upon the part of your friends.”
“Yes; we shall soon be on the move.”
“Keep straight to the westward; there is now enough light to prevent
your going astray, and you will find, when daylight comes, that Heaven
has brought you out of all danger. Farewell!”
Ere Hammond could interpose, or even thank her, the horse had wheeled
about and was off on a gallop. Almost instantly, he vanished in the
darkness, and the rattle of his hoofs grew fainter and fainter, until
they, too, died out in the distance.
“_Lamora_,” repeated the young man. “I surely have heard that name
pronounced by other lips than hers.
“Who is she? Where did she come from?
“She was sent by heaven, most assuredly.”
While conversing with the girl, Hammond had approached her horse as
near as possible, and had managed to gain a distinct view of her
face. There is something in the dim, misty moonlight which softens
the asperities even of the repulsive countenance, but he was certain
that the most beautiful creature upon which he had ever looked was
conversing with him. Her half-civilized dress, and her wealth of
flowing black hair, partly assisted in her enchanting appearance; but
the face itself was one of unsurpassed loveliness.
The peculiar circumstances under which they encountered gave Hammond
an equally peculiar interest in her, and a pang of disappointment went
through his heart when he found that he was standing alone, and that
she had left him so abruptly.
But he had important matters in hand for the time, and he gave his
whole thought to them.
Every one was working with the energy of people who were convinced that
their lives depended upon the result. The teams were harnessed, the
wagons loaded up, and at the end of half an hour the whole train moved
out of the grove, toward the west.
Before starting, men had ridden out on the prairie in every direction,
and returned with the announcement that nothing could be heard of
the Blackfeet, and all pressed forward with the greatest vigor and
determination.
With the passing of the immediate danger, the thoughts of the strange
woman who had befriended them returned to Fred Hammond. He felt a
powerful interest in her, and, as he was riding beside the guide of the
company, he turned to him rather abruptly, and asked:
“Have you ever heard of Lamora?”
“Heard of her?” repeated the latter, in surprise; “wasn’t I telling you
all about her the other day?”
“So you were; I was sure I had heard her name before, but I could not
recollect from whom. Who is she?”
“She is a white girl, living with a tribe of Indians, somewhere up
north of us, and she has done many such things as this for the white
people crossing the plains. I have heard of her for years as doing the
same thing.”
“What kind of a looking person is she?”
“Just the handsomest creature that ever lived! Wait till you get a good
look at her.”
Hammond was not long in finding that their guide knew very little
more regarding her than he had already told, although he gossiped and
chatted about her until daylight.
When light at last broke over the prairie, many eyes were cast
anxiously backward, but not a sign of the Indians was visible. The
warning of Lamora had saved them!
Fred Hammond could not drive the thoughts of this beautiful being from
his mind, and finally he determined that, as he had joined the company
for the sake of adventure, he would turn back and seek adventures of
the most romantic kind.
So, on the afternoon of this day, he quietly withdrew from the company,
and started at an easy gallop in the direction that the guide had
indicated led toward the home of the mysterious and beautiful Lamora;
and, leaving our hero for a time to himself, we must now bestow our
attention upon others, who have a part to play in this narrative.
_Love_, the passion of our nature, will play the mischief with all of
us, and Fred Hammond was soon off on this great “love-chase” of his
life.