Transcriber’s Notes:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.
* * * * *
Semi-Monthly Novels Series.
No. 205.
BEADLE’S DIME NOVELS
[Illustration]
THE GRAY SCALP.
BEADLE AND COMPANY, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK.
Am. News Co., 119 & 121 Nassau St., N. Y.
* * * * *
A FOREST HEROINE!
Beadle’s Dime Novels, No. 206,
TO ISSUE TUESDAY, JUNE 21st,
Will present a richly racy romance of the woods, viz:
BUCKSKIN BILL; OR, The White Demon of the Woods.
A ROMANCE OF THE BLACKFOOT COUNTRY.
BY GUY GREENWOOD, AUTHOR OF “THE PHANTOM FOE; OR, THE MAID OF
MONTMORENCI,” ETC.
Buckskin Bill is a character. The Far West produces many odd specimens
of men, but none whose claim to oddity is stronger than Bill’s. Rough
as a bear, he is gentle as a fawn. Brave as a lion, he is afraid of a
young girl’s frown. Untutored as a savage, he is yet as wise and shrewd
as a minister of war.
In his daughter we have his perfect contrast. The beautiful child-woman
is not only grace itself, but is bravery itself; and though apparently
as wild as the mustang which she rides, is as true to a pure woman’s
instincts as if raised as a petted child of the parlor.
The secondary persons of the stirring story are the captain of the
expedition of observation; the dreaded Demon Slayer, whose track seemed
marked with the blood of the Blackfeet, and the Indian chief, whose
cunning and thirst for scalps gives the leading incidents to the drama.
The novel is alive with action, rapid in its incident-movement,
exciting and strange.
☞ 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 GRAY SCALP; OR, THE BLACKFOOT BRAVE.
BY EDWARD WILLETT,
_Author of the following Dime Novels_:
10. _THE HIDDEN HOME._
111. _NED STARLING._
119. _THE FIVE CHAMPIONS._
125. _THE HUNTED LIFE._
132. _OLD HONESTY._
139. _THE BORDER FOES._
145. _THE MOUNTAINEER._
149. _THE HUNTER’S PLEDGE._
159. _SNOW-BIRD._
170. _BORDER AVENGERS._
187. _THE OUTLAWS’ PLOT._
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 Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for
the Southern District of New York.
(No. 205.)
* * * * *
THE GRAY SCALP.
CHAPTER I. A MIDNIGHT ATTACK.
“Hurrah for Oregon! says I. That’s the place for Denny, and mesilf is
the boy who is bound to have a good shlice av the fine lands, and who
has a better right?”
“What’s the fool talkin’ about? Thar’s no sech place as Oregon, greeny.
That kentry thar is called Oregon, and it’s an Injun name, I reckon.”
“An Injun name! The ignorance av yez! It was named for Michael O’Regan,
who first diskivered it, as ye might read in the histories, if ye could
read at all. He was an Irishman, from the county Donegal, and was me
grandfather’s first cousin on the mother’s side. We dhropped the O’
whin we kim across the say; but that don’t hindher me from claimin’ a
shlice av the fine lands that once belonged to me grandfather’s cousin.”
“I don’t believe a word of it, Denny Regan. Of all the liars that were
ever turned loose in this yere kentry, I reckon you are about the
infarnalest.”
“Is it a liar ye are callin’ me, Misther Pap Byers? Ye’ve got it to
take back, or feel the edge av me knife.”
“You had better shut up, both of you. Captain Benning gave orders that
there should be no talkin’ around the camp to-night, and he’ll give
you a proper good blowin’ up if he ketches you at it. Here he is, by
thunder!”
The first speaker was Dennis Regan, a young Irishman, who, although
he had turned trapper, had not discarded his brogue with his brogans,
or his natural character with his corduroys. The second was John
Byers, commonly called Pap Byers, a middle-aged free trapper, of long
experience on the plains and in the mountains. In person he was tall,
gaunt, sinewy and solemn, while the Irishman was short and stout,
with fat cheeks and a merry face. The third speaker was Sam Glass, a
hired trapper, in the employ of Mr. Robinette, the fur-trader to whose
company all were attached.
Captain Benning, who came up just as Sam Glass mentioned his name,
was a tall young man, well built and fine looking, with an appearance
of activity, nerve and daring. He was one of the leaders of the party
under Mr. Robinette, and was regarded as an excellent “partisan.”
“What is the meaning of this noise?” asked the captain, frowning upon
the group. “Don’t you know that orders were given to keep the camp
quiet to-night?”
“It was Denny Regan here,” replied Pap Byers. “The durned fool was
tryin’ to make us believe that Oregon was diskivered by an Irishman,
and named arter him.”
“And this ould sinner called me a liar, capt’in dear, and that’s what
ye wouldn’t like to be called yersilf.”
“No matter who began it, or what it was about; it must be stopped.
There are Indians all around us, and they may be down upon us at any
moment. I have been obliged to leave my patrol to come and put a
stop to your noise, and there is no telling what may happen during
my absence. Hark! I believe something is already the matter with the
horses.”
In an instant the attitude and air of the four men were changed. With
countenances expressive of anxiety, they leaned forward, listening
intently to catch the slightest sound that might indicate an alarm.
“You’re right thar, cap’n!” exclaimed Byers, seizing his rifle and
jumping up; “the red-skins are among the hosses.”
All rushed toward the camp, to give the alarm, and to search for the
wily enemy; but they were too late.
The horses were already stampeded, and came bursting through the camp
like an avalanche, overthrowing every thing before them. After them,
with terrific yells and whoops, poured a crowd of half-naked savages,
splendidly mounted, galloping like mad after the frightened herd.
Captain Benning and his companions fired at the Indians, and a few
straggling shots from the camp showed that some attempt at defense was
made there; but the furious rush of the animals prevented any thing
like an organized resistance. It is probable that the assailants had
not intended, at first, any thing more than a stampede; but the route
taken by the horses had thrown the camp into such confusion, that the
massacre and plunder of the party of white men seemed to follow as a
matter of course.
The voices of the leaders were heard, far above the din, directing the
movements of their followers. A few of the warriors rode on after the
herd, to keep the animals together and guide their course; while the
others turned and dashed upon the scattered and bewildered whites,
hoping to slay them before they could recover from their confusion.
But a party of more than thirty mountain men was not to be so easily
discomfited. The hardy trappers and hunters, accustomed to savage
combats, availing themselves of the shelter of the wagons and packs,
stood gallantly on the defensive, loading and firing their rifles with
a rapidity and precision that soon checked the fury of the onset. The
savages, who fought at a disadvantage on horseback, were in their turn
thrown into confusion and forced back.
Again the voices of the leaders rung out, and a portion of the warriors
dismounted, to renew the combat on foot, while others circled around
the wagons, for the purpose of driving the trappers from their defenses.
The white men were quickly outflanked, and were gradually forced back,
until they were compelled to take refuge in a thicket, leaving the camp
in the possession of their assailants.
Having accomplished this much, the savages, as has sometimes happened
to more civilized warriors, made a poor use of their victory. Instead
of pursuing their advantage, part of them fell to plundering the camp
and securing the scalps of the slain.
It was at this juncture that Benning and his companions, who had been
compelled to make a circuit in order to find their friends, reached
the camp, and poured in a volley upon the flank of the savages. The
trappers in the thicket, profiting by this diversion in their favor,
rushed out, and charged boldly upon the enemy. A few volleys from their
terrible rifles changed the face of affairs, and the savages were soon
flying from the camp as swiftly as they had entered it. Being unable to
pursue them, from lack of horses, the trappers collected in the midst
of the ruins, vowing vengeance against the midnight marauders.
Out of thirty-five men, six had been killed outright, including Mr.
Robinette, the head of the expedition. It was impossible to say how
many lives had been lost on the side of the Indians, as they had
carried off all their dead and wounded, besides a large amount of
plunder. A few of the remaining white men were wounded, but none
severely.
After a hurried survey of the field, the question arose by what means
the savages had been enabled to creep upon the camp without being
observed. Angry recriminations ensued, and hard words seemed likely to
lead to hard blows.
“Perhaps you can tell us who was at fault, Captain Benning?” said Mr.
Laurie, the principal agent of Mr. Robinette. “You should know, if any
man knows.”
“What good will it do to argue that matter now?” tartly replied
Benning. “Somebody was careless, of course, and perhaps I might put my
finger on the man; but of what use would that be now? The mischief has
been done, and no one knows the extent of it yet. Has anybody seen Miss
Flora?”
The faces of all changed, and greater consternation than they had yet
shown was now visible among the rough trappers.
Flora Robinette was the only child of her father, a beautiful
dark-haired and dark-eyed girl of nineteen. Since the death of her
mother, the trader had been so strongly attached to her, that it had
seemed almost impossible for him to separate himself from her. As it
was part of the object of this expedition to establish a post west of
the Rocky Mountains, at which he expected to spend the greater part of
his time, he had at last yielded to her entreaties, and permitted her
to accompany him and share his home in the wilds. He believed that his
party was strong enough to furnish a safe escort, and that she could be
in no danger when the post was established. Her only hardships, as he
supposed, would be such as would result from traveling over the plains,
and from deprivation of the comforts and luxuries of civilization; but
these she had professed herself able and willing to endure.
She had endured them, so far, without grumbling, and with all apparent
cheerfulness. She had manifested, also, a spirit of daring and love of
adventure, together with a real delight in the fresh air and free life
of the plains, that had charmed the rough men into whose company she
was thrown, and rendered her the idol of them all. It was no wonder
that their cheeks blanched when they were asked if they had seen her.
No one _had_ seen Flora Robinette since the commencement of the fray.
At the usual hour she had retired to the wagon in which she slept, and
was supposed to have been there when the horses were stampeded and
broke through the camp; but an examination showed that the wagon was
empty.
On the ground, near the wagon, lay the body of her father, his head,
from which the gray hair on the top had been stripped, surrounded by a
pool of his own blood; but no trace of Flora could be found. A careful
search was made by the disheartened trappers; but it disclosed nothing.
They could only suppose that she had been awakened by the tumult, had
looked out of the wagon, and had thus been espied by the Indians, who
would lose no time in taking possession of such a prize. It was certain
that she had disappeared, leaving no trace.
When the fruitless search was ended, a great change had come over
George Benning. He stood like a statue, silent and motionless, and one
would have thought, from the expression of his countenance, that every
thing that was worth living for in the world had been taken from him.
His demeanor was so strange, that Martin Laurie, the agent, took him
aside and spoke with him.
Laurie was a Scotchman, whose age might have been anywhere between
forty and forty-five. He had the sandy hair, red eyes and watery
complexion peculiar to many of his race; but was not really
ill-looking. He was sedate and precise, a shrewd and methodical man of
business, and as such had been highly esteemed by Mr. Robinette.
“What is the matter with you, Benning?” he asked. “You act very
strangely, and you look as if you had lost all the friends you had in
the world. Can it be possible that the death of Mr. Robinette affects
you so strongly?”
“No. He was a good man, and I respected him highly; but I have no
special reason to grieve for him.”
“It must be, then, that it is the loss of Miss Flora that troubles you.”
“I confess it. If she had been killed, it would have been relief to
know it; but she has been carried away, we know not where, and it is
terrible to think of the fate that may be reserved for her.”
“You seem to take it harder than any of the rest of us, although you
are in no way related to her. I have noticed, during this journey, that
you were much interested in Miss Flora, and I intended to tell you, as
I now must, that it was her father’s wish that she should become my
wife.”
“Indeed! Was she aware of it?”
“I don’t know that she was. She was an only child, as you know, and Mr.
Robinette was possessed of considerable property. It was his desire
that she should marry a careful and prudent man of business, such as
he considered me to be, who would take care that her means were not
wasted.”
“Be that as it may, Mr. Laurie--and I do not mean to dispute your
word--it is useless to say any more about it now. She is gone, and it
is doubtful if either of us will be permitted to see her again in this
world. There is a chance, however, that she may still be living. I mean
to search for her, and shall never abandon the search while life is
left to me. I will not hinder you, of course, from devoting yourself to
the same object, if you wish to do so.”
“Now that Mr. Robinette is dead, it is my duty, under his instructions,
to take this party on to the rendezvous west of the mountains, and
follow the plan that he had formed for this season’s work. If I can do
any thing to help you, I will gladly do it.”
“I only ask for three men.”
“You may take any three who are willing to follow you. If you succeed,
I suppose you will join us at the rendezvous.”
“I hardly dare to hope for success. I can only say that I will do my
best.”
When Laurie and Benning returned to the trappers, they found them
inquiring what Indians they were that had made the attack.
“They were Blackfeet, I suppose,” said Benning. “How can there be any
doubt about it?”
“Easy enough, cap’n,” replied Byers. “Do Blackfeet wear Crow blankets
and moccasins?”
“No.”
“We have found a Crow blanket and a Crow moccasin on this yere ground,
and that settles the p’int, I reckon.”
“But the Crows are the friends of the white men, and never attack them.”
“Wal--I ain’t so sartin of that as you seem to be. I know that they
steal white men’s hosses, and thar’s no end to an Injun’s devilment,
nohow.”
Some of the party were of the opinion that the assailants had been
Blackfeet; but the majority sided with Byers, convinced by the Crow
blanket and moccasin.
The next morning, after the bodies of the dead had been buried, Laurie
and his party pushed on with the train toward the west, and Benning set
off on the trail of the midnight assailants, accompanied by Pap Byers,
Sam Glass and Dennis Regan. They were on foot, as no horses had been
left except such as were absolutely necessary for the train; but they
hoped soon to be able to secure a remount.