TECUMSEH’S VICTORY.
The confusion that followed gave the precious moment for action to
the whites.
“Now, Tom, be a man, and help us out of this!” cried Shack.
“I’m with you, Shack, now, to the last!” cried Tom. “Take the girls
and make at once for the boys on the horses. I’ll revolver every
red-skin in the way; so come on!” and forward they all started.
True to his promise, Tom Kyle shot down the Ogallahs guarding the
boys, and in a few moments more all were mounted for a desperate dash
for the hills, miles away.
Already the cries of the victors were ascending from the field of
slaughter; it was wonderful that the Apaches had withstood the
avalanche so long, and the shouts of the northern barbarians drove
the whites from the scene of their little victory.
Tom Kyle rode a fiery black mustang, and held Mabel Denison before
him, while Lina was encircled by the strong arm of Frontier Shack,
who rode beside Charley Shafer.
“How did the greasers come to catch you chaps?” he asked, as they
dashed over the plain that lay between life and death.
“We waited for you last night until we knew that something terrible
had transpired in the village,” was the reply. “Then we thought of
rescue, but a thousand feet drove us back to the mountains, but ere
we could reach them, the Pawnees came out from their fastnesses, and
we fell an easy prey. Not so easily after all,” and the boys’ eyes
lit up with pride; “we fought the whole troop for a while, and five
empty saddles told the story of the battle.”
And while they conversed as they rode, Tom Kyle and Ned were making
their explanations.
Gold Feather thus questioned his brother:
“Whither do you wish to go?”
“I want to see mother once more.”
“Then we go to Mexico.”
“To Mexico? I left mother in Baltimore, Maryland. Why should she be
in Mexico?”
“She would not believe that the Comanches had killed you. She yearned
to see her stolen boy again, and came thither to hunt you.”
A tear stood in Ned Kyle’s black eyes.
“But these people with us? They do not want to go to Mexico?”
“No, we go without them.”
“’Tis well; I know the trail, and we will safely reach mother’s side.
Oh, Tom, I never dreamed of such a meeting.”
The renegade smiled and glanced at Mabel Denison, who had been
transferred, at her own request, to a seat before the youth whom she
loved.
“Look here, Ned,” and Tom Kyle’s voice sunk to a whisper. “Don’t you
want a wife?”
“I leave one in the Apache camp.”
“Of course,” responded Tom, “but I’m talking about a white wife.”
“I may find one in Mexico.”
“Pshaw! can’t you see what I am driving at? I say, don’t you want
that black-haired girl behind us?”
“I don’t know. She has a lover already.”
“Don’t be so accursed conscientious. The other girl is mine, and you
might as well take the brunette.”
Gold Feather was silent; the battle between right and wrong was going
on in his mind, and when he looked up, the keen eyes of his brother
were fastened upon him.
“Tom, we can’t get them without spilling pure blood, and then we have
no right--”
“Pish! who cares for a little blood?” interrupted the Pawnee king.
“You didn’t the other day, when you dropped Wolf Eyes. Come, Ned,
don’t be so infernal scrupulous. Work with me. I owe that trapper
one. He tried to take me to Fort Kearney, and if I ever get there
I’ll swing, p’r’aps. He’ll try to get me there now, and you, too,
boy. He’s a veritable devil who smiles when he plots against us. I
hate him; he hates us both!”
“True, Ned?”
“As true as mother’s heart. We’ll take the girls?”
“Ned will help Tom.”
A sigh followed the youth’s words, and his lips closed with the
fearful determination behind it.
Half an hour later the party reached the mountains, and, far above
the level plain, Tom Kyle drew a highly ornamented field glass from
beneath his jacket, and turned it toward the Apache village.
A moment later an oath burst from his lips. He had descried a black
mass moving toward the mountains.
Shackelford took the glass.
“Chased, by Joshua!” he exclaimed; “but if we manage it right, they
won’t catch us.”
“No,” said the renegade, “but we must prepare for a long race.
They’re far away, as yet, and we have a few moments here.”
The next moment they had dismounted, for the purpose of tightening
their steeds’ girths. Frontier Shack was busily employed in this
operation, when a loud neigh saluted his ears, and looking down the
pass, he beheld a great iron-gray horse trotting forward.
“Tecumseh, by Joshua!” he exclaimed. “Boy, I thought he was captured
with you.”
“No!” answered young Shafer. “I should have told you. Tecumseh broke
from us when we rode from the village last night; and his wild
neighings soon died away to our left.”
“Dash me! if we ain’t lucky,” ejaculated Shackelford, leaving the
Ogallah mustang, and a moment later he griped the bridle of his own
dear horse.
In the exuberance of his joy, he was stroking Tecumseh’s neck, when a
shriek, followed by Tom Kyle’s stern voice, saluted his ears!
He turned and beheld Gold Feather covering the young buffalo-hunters
with a brace of revolvers, while the renegade’s rifle was aimed at
his own head. Kyle sat bolt upright in the saddle.
“Shackelford, we’re going to part here,” said the Pawnee king, “and I
guess we’ll leave you to the buzzards. Curse your heart! you tried to
take me to Fort Kearney once, but I didn’t go, eh, Shackelford? Now,
say your prayers. Ned, count twenty-five in the Apache tongue, and,
at the end of that count, we’ll empty our weapons and go to Mexico.”
The White Apache began in a low tone, and the doomed ones looked at
each other in silence.
There seemed no escape from death now; it had grown into a palpable
monster and was very near.
Frontier Shack stood beside the iron-gray whose jaws champed the bit
impatiently, and his eyes regarded the determined renegade.
Lina Aiken and Mabel Denison stood spellbound in the mountain pass,
feeling that they were the innocent cause of the dreadful tableau.
The “count” had reached the thirteenth numeral, when Frontier Shack
slowly stepped from his horse. As he executed the movement, his broad
palm struck Tecumseh’s shoulder, and, with a fearful plunge, that
would have overthrown the best human equilibrium, the horse shot
forward!
Tom Kyle blocked the narrow pass; his brother stood beside his horse,
and they uttered ejaculations of horror when they saw the trapper’s
steed’s intention.
Gold Feather lifted the revolvers from the boys, and poured two shot
at point blank range into Tecumseh’s front.
The brave horse reared, as blood spirted from the wounds, then
staggered forward, on his hind feet, and came down with a crash upon
Tom Kyle and his horse!
The renegade shrieked at the top of his voice, when he saw his fate;
but the cry was broken by Tecumseh’s attack, and he found himself
beneath his steed, crushed as it seemed, into the stony earth!
“Back, hunter,” cried Gold Feather, as Frontier Shack sprung forward
with drawn pistol; but the trapper would not obey.
Once, twice, the White Apache delivered his fire; but ere he could
send a third shot after the heart he would cleave, a report that
came from a place above their heads, saluted the ears of all, and he
staggered back upon the dying horse.
“Tom Kyle, you’ve deserved all this,” said Frontier Shack, drawing
the renegade from his terrible position. “I intended to part from you
in peace, for I owed you much; but all is over now. You are dying!”
“I know that, Shackelford. Your horse’s foot struck me squarely in
the breast. I never dreamed that he would prove my death. Look out
for the Indians.”
The trapper took the field-glass, and brought it to bear upon the
plains below.
“They’re not far off, now,” he said, lowering the instrument. “Tom,
we must go. They’ll never find you alive.”
“Thank Heaven for that!”
Then he tried to rise, but in vain; he fell back again, his hands
clawed the bloody earth, and he died, gasping:
“_Thank Heaven for that!_”
Tecumseh was already dead. Ned Kyle’s shot had finished the career of
the noble horse, and Frontier Shack clipped a bunch of the iron-gray
mane, ere he turned away:
“The old horse remembered his training to the last,” he said,
proudly. “He knew that that slap on the shoulder meant ‘charge!’ and
dash me! didn’t he go for them rascals lively?”
He brushed a tear from his eyes, as he thrust the lock of equine hair
into his bosom, and a few moments later they had left the spot.
But they had scarcely cleared a hundred yards when the trapper
suddenly drew rein. A human figure had dropped into a clump of bushes
beside the dusky trail.
“Indians!” he ejaculated, riding slowly forward again; but a moment
later he uttered a new cry.
The figure had crept from the bushes, and, with their support, was
standing erect.
“Winnesaw, upon my life!” exclaimed Charley Shafer, recognizing the
Pawnee girl who had loved him during his captivity.
The party soon reached the girl’s side, and saw at once that she
stood on the brink of the dark river.
“Winnesaw escaped from the Pawnees,” she said, in feeble tones,
“and she sought her mother who lives among the Apaches. She reached
the mountains, and in the darkness she met the bear. They fought;
Winnesaw conquered with her knife; but the beast tore her limbs.
She is dying; she shot the pale Indian when he fired at the white
trapper.”
She sunk to the earth from exhaustion, but Frontier Shack raised her
up.
“Gold Girl,” she gasped, her eyes falling upon Lina Aiken, “Winnesaw
love you. She loves boy with black eyes, too. But she give him up
now; she go to light the fires in Red Eagle’s lodge in Manitou
lands!”
Frontier Shack sprung into the saddle again.
* * * * *
“Look here, youngster, don’t this mean you?”
The speaker was a United States soldier, and he thrust a small piece
of paper into the hands of a handsome youth who sat near an old
hunter within the walls of Fort Kearney.
The boy held the paragraph before his eyes, and read:
“STILL UNKNOWN: We learn that the whereabouts of the sons of
Messrs. Shafer and Long importers on Fourth street, still remain
unknown. It is generally believed, now, that they have reached St.
Louis, and joined some emigrant caravan at that place. A standing
reward of $1,000 is offered for their persons, or for information
that may lead to their recovery.”
“Read that to me, boy!” said the hunter, as the youth looked up with
a tear in his eye.
The youth complied.
“Well, I see you’re worth five hundred dollars to the old folks,”
said the old man, with a smile. “And I guess I’ll claim the reward.
But, I do wish you could take some white buffler hides home with you,
anyhow. This hes been a wild-goose chase, Charley, hesn’t it?”
“Yes, so far as white buffaloes are concerned,” replied the boy, with
a deep blush.
“Well, what have you gained by it?”
The youth drew nearer the hunter, and glanced at two beautiful girls
standing in the little barrack yard, conversing with a youth of about
their own age.
“Oh, I see!” exclaimed the man. “You needn’t tell me, Charley. This
has not been a wild-goose chase for you two boys. You’ve gained
something worth a million billion of buffler hides, and I’m going to
stay in Cincinnati till I see you hitched.”
“Oh, Frontier Shack, we owe you so much!”
“If you talk that away, I’ll be dashed if I go back with you. You
don’t owe me any thing. Boy, I thought that this thing was going
to turn out all right, when the boat struck the sunken island that
terrible night, and throwed George among the quicksands. I can’t tell
how I managed to git into the boat again, but heaven helped me, I
guess. The water carried me too far down-stream to help George then.
Golly! how ’stonished I war to find him in the Pawnee village, with
you at his side. But every thing has turned out right. I’m a lone man
now,” he continued, after a pause. “Tecumseh and Massasoit are gone;
they war my brothers. Peace to their ashes!”
A month later a happy reunion took place in the Queen City of the
West, and smiles came back to faces to which they had long been
strangers.
The runaways had returned, and when their overjoyed fathers asked to
behold the results of their escapade, they led the plain-found girls
blushingly forward.
“These girls are better nor white buffler-skins,” said Frontier
Shack, in his rough way. “The boys hev won ’em, and if they don’t git
’em, Frontier Shack will raise a rumpus and clean the ranche.”
Into the palatial homes of the Cincinnati merchants the fair girls
were warmly welcomed, and, in due time, a double wedding proved a
fitting sequel to the wild hunt for white buffalo-skins.
After the grand affair above mentioned, Frontier Shack returned to
the Plains, but, several years ago, he left them in disgust.
He said that the railroads were “spoiling a trapper’s fun” in the
wild West, and so, seeking retirement, he came to spend the remaining
days of his life with those whose lives his bravery had saved.
I need not say that he met a hearty welcome in two stately mansions
in Ohio’s proudest city, and to this day he relates to attentive
children the thrilling story which has called forth the service of my
humble pen.
THE END.
DIME POCKET NOVELS.
PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH.
=1 Hawkeye Harry.= =83 The Specter Horseman.=
=2 Dead Shot.= =84 The Three Trappers.=
=3 The Boy Miners.= =85 Kaleolah.=
=4 Blue Dick.= =86 The Hunter Hercules.=
=5 Nat Wolfe.= =87 Phil Hunter.=
=6 The White Tracker.= =88 The Indian Scout.=
=7 The Outlaw’s Wife.= =89 The Girl Avenger.=
=8 The Tall Trapper.= =90 The Red Hermitess.=
=9 Lightning Jo.= =91 Star-Face, the Slayer.=
=10 The Inland Pirate.= =92 The Antelope Boy.=
=11 The Boy Ranger.= =93 The Phantom Hunter.=
=12 Bess, the Trapper.= =94 Tom Pintle, the Pilot.=
=13 The French Spy.= =95 The Red Wizard.=
=14 Long Shot.= =96 The Rival Trappers.=
=15 The Gunmaker.= =97 The Squaw Spy.=
=16 Red Hand.= =98 Dusky Dick.=
=17 Ben, the Trapper.= =99 Colonel Crockett.=
=18 Wild Raven.= =100 Old Bear Paw.=
=19 The Specter Chief.= =101 Redlaw.=
=20 The B’ar-Killer.= =102 Wild Rube.=
=21 Wild Nat.= =103 The Indian Hunters.=
=22 Indian Jo.= =104 Scarred Eagle.=
=23 Old Kent, the Ranger.= =105 Nick Doyle.=
=24 The One-Eyed Trapper.= =106 The Indian Spy.=
=25 Godbold, the Spy.= =107 Job Dean.=
=26 The Black Ship.= =108 The Wood King.=
=27 Single Eye.= =109 The Scalped Hunter.=
=28 Indian Jim.= =110 Nick, the Scout.=
=29 The Scout.= =111 The Texas Tiger.=
=30 Eagle Eye.= =112 The Crossed Knives.=
=31 The Mystic Canoe.= =113 Tiger-Heart.=
=32 The Golden Harpoon.= =114 The Masked Avenger.=
=33 The Scalp King.= =115 The Pearl Pirates.=
=34 Old Lute.= =116 Black Panther.=
=35 Rainbolt, Ranger.= =117 Abdiel, the Avenger.=
=36 The Boy Pioneer.= =118 Cato, the Creeper.=
=37 Carson, the Guide.= =119 Two-Handed Mat.=
=38 The Heart Eater.= =120 Mad Trail Hunter.=
=39 Wetzel, the Scout.= =121 Black Nick.=
=40 The Huge Hunter.= =122 Kit Bird.=
=41 Wild Nat, the Trapper.= =123 The Specter Riders.=
=42 Lynx-cap.= =124 Giant Pete.=
=43 The White Outlaw.= =125 The Girl Captain.=
=44 The Dog Trailer.= =126 Yankee Eph.=
=45 The Elk King.= =127 Silverspur.=
=46 Adrian, the Pilot.= =128 Squatter Dick.=
=47 The Man-hunter.= =129 The Child Spy.=
=48 The Phantom Tracker.= =130 Mink Coat.=
=49 Moccasin Bill.= =131 Red Plume.=
=50 The Wolf Queen.= =132 Clyde, the Trailer.=
=51 Tom Hawk, Trailer.= =133 The Lost Cache.=
=52 The Mad Chief.= =134 The Cannibal Chief.=
=53 The Black Wolf.= =135 Karaibo.=
=54 Arkansas Jack.= =136 Scarlet Moccasin.=
=55 Blackbeard.= =137 Kidnapped.=
=56 The River Rifles.= =138 Maid of the Mountain.=
=57 Hunter Ham.= =139 The Scioto Scouts.=
=58 Cloudwood.= =140 Border Renegade.=
=59 The Texas Hawks.= =141 The Mute Chief.=
=60 Merciless Mat.= =142 Boone, the Hunter.=
=61 Mad Anthony’s Scouts.= =143 Mountain Kate.=
=62 The Luckless Trapper.= =144 The Red Scalper.=
=63 The Florida Scout.= =145 The Lone Chief.=
=64 The Island Trapper.= =146 The Silver Bugle.=
=65 Wolf-Cap.= =147 Chinga, the Cheyenne.=
=66 Rattling Dick.= =148 The Tangled Trail.=
=67 Sharp-Eye.= =149 The Unseen Hand.=
=68 Iron-Hand.= =150 The Lone Indian.=
=69 The Yellow Hunter.= =151 The Branded Brave.=
=70 The Phantom Rider.= =152 Billy Bowlegs.=
=71 Delaware Tom.= =153 The Valley Scout.=
=72 Silver Rifle.= =154 Red Jacket.=
=73 The Skeleton Scout.= =155 The Jungle Scout.=
=74 Little Rifle.= =156 Cherokee Chief.=
=75 The Wood Witch.= =157 The Bandit Hermit.=
=76 Old Ruff, the Trapper.= =158 The Patriot Scouts.=
=77 The Scarlet Shoulders.= =159 The Wood Rangers.=
=78 The Border Rifleman.= =160 The Red Foe.=
=79 Outlaw Jack.= =161 Beautiful Unknown.=
=80 Tiger-Tail, Seminole.= =162 Canebrake Mose.=
=81 Death-Dealer.= =163 Haak, the Guide.=
=82 Kenton, the Ranger.= =164 The Border Scout.=
=165 Wild Nat, the Gulch Terror=; or, The Border Huntress. By W.
J. Hamilton. Ready
=166 The Maid of Wyoming=; or, The Contest of the Clans. By James
L. Bowen. Ready
=167 The Three Captives.= A Tale of the Taos Valley. By Edward
Willett. Ready
=168 The Lost Hunters=; or, The Mohave Captive. By Capt. J. F. C.
Adams. Ready
=169 Border Law=; or, The Land Claim. By Mrs. Frances Fuller
Barritt. Ready
=170 The Lifted Trail=; or, The White Apache. By Edward Willett.
Ready
=171 The Trader Spy=; or, The Victim of the Fire-Raft. By J.
Stanley Henderson. Ready
=172 The Forest Specter=; or, The Young Hunter’s Foe. By Edward
Willett. Ready
BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.
Transcriber’s Notes
The Table of Contents at the beginning of the book was created by
the transcriber.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation such as “buffalo-hunters”/“buffalo
hunters” have been maintained.
Minor punctuation and spelling errors have been silently corrected
and, except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the
text, especially in dialogue, and inconsistent or archaic usage,
have been retained.
Page 33: “A large quantity of valuaable” changed to “A large
quantity of valuable”.
Page 38: “young lips closed emphatically behind the monosylable”
changed to “young lips closed emphatically behind the monosyllable”.
Page 55: “but she had no occason” changed to “but she had no
occasion”.
Page 56: “two bore human-shaped objects in ther” changed to “two
bore human-shaped objects in their”.