VA P0 o. 6 PAPER; Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year I874, by Baum: AND ADAMS, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. «murmurs F VOL/V. David Adam Eu .. Beadle, ‘p wnham Adams,;‘PUBLISHERS- 5: NEW YORK, OCTOBER 17, 1874. (One copy, four montlm, $1.00. TERMS IN ADVANCE One copy, one year. . . 3.00. l Two copies, one year . 5.00. No. 240. SONNET. BY A. IN. BELLAW. So fairy-fine all praises fail on her, Her fairness finds a bourne, and her sweet mouth Lures like some Winsome summer in the South Of bloom and erfume seen by dreamfarer. So fair is she liken her to flush Of dying music bloWn from sunset land, That kingdom of an hour, to where we stand While all the moods of being, hearing hush. The smile that makes a splendor on her cheek Is twin to the sweet peace upon her brows. There is none like her, this your look allows. ' What were impossible for her dear sake I do not know. But this I know, so led My love outlives all life, and she lies dead. DAKOTA DAN, THE RECKLE§S RANGER; The Bee-Hunter’s Excursion. A WILD TALE OF THE KEYA-PAHA GDUITRY. BY OLL COOMES, AUTHOR OF “BOWIE-KNIFE BEN,” “OLD HUR— RICANE,” “HAWKEYE HARRY,” “DEATH- NOTCH, THE DESTROYER,” “ ONE—ARM- ED ALF,” arc, ETC., ETC. 0 CHAPTER I. AN UNLUCKY RIDER. SOUTHERN DAKOTA of the year 182—. A cottonwood grove on the Keya Paha river, some thirty miles from its confluence with the Niobrara. "Within that grove a score of persons were assembled on a bright afternoon of a Septem- ber day. All were Indians, with a few/excep- tions. The ponies br0wsing near bore strong evidence of having been severely ridden. At one side was a noble-looking horse of the new American breed, caparisoned with an Ameri- can saddle and bridle. His sides were dripping with sweat, his flanks were white with foam and quivering with over-exertion; his whole frame shook under the throbbing of his great heart; his nostrils were dilated and steaming— he was panting with sheer exhaustion. In the midst of the group of Indians was the master of that noble beast. His hands were securely bound at his back—he was a prisoner. His face was haggard and dust-be— grimed, yet wore a firm, determined and reso- lute look, that at times seemed to awe the sav- age horde around him. He was a man of some five and forty years, of medium size, with a pleasant, yet piercing, dark-gray eye; a thin, angular face, the lower part of which was cov- ered with a smooth, iron~gray beard. His hair was of the same color as his beard, though closely cropped, showing the outlines of a well- shaped‘ head. He was dressed in a citizen’s suit, which was, of itself, evidence of his not belonging upon the border. The savages were all Yankton Sioux. Some were in war-paint -— some were not. Their leader was a white man, at whose very beck and nod all seemed to act with humble obei- sauce. He was a person upon whose face the inner character was plainly written. It Com- bined every evidence of wickedness and subtle cunning to be seen upon the dusky laces of his coadjutors; and in every other countenance but his, the prisoner could see a faint glimmer of human feeling-a spark that he may have kindled into mercy’s hopeful light, had it not been for the cold, relentless look upon White Falcon’s face. White Falcon, as he was called by the In- dians, and Donald Gray by his renegade asso- ciates, was a man of some fifty years, judging from his seamed features, gray whiskers and hair. But his movements, voice, and physical powers were those of a man of thirty; and be- tween thc two, the prisoner was left in doubt as to the man’s age, but not as to his villainy of heart. That morning, Jonathan Duncan had been thirty miles north of where we now find him a captive. He was crossing the plain from the Missouri river, unaware of his proximity to danger, until he suddenly found that he was being pursued by a band of Indians. He at once put his horse to its utmost speed, feeling certain of his ability to outstrip the Indians in the race; and he did so for a short distance, but he had underestimated the endurance of the Indians’ ponies, and after a race of a score and a half miles, was overtaken on the banks of the Keya Paha, where we now find them assembled. After he had been made prisoner, Duncan was subjected to a series of blows, kicks and taunts, given to test his courage and fortitude. He bore all, however, with unflinchingresig- nation, and by looks defied the jeering horde around him. “ The horse of the pale—face is fast, like the arrow; but soon gives out. The ponies of the Indian are slow, but like the bird, they can go along ways,” philosophized a red-skin. “ Well, ” in a calm tone, replied Duncan, “if that stream had been behind me instead of be— fore, I am inclined to think the race would be going on yet.” . “ A poor excuse is better than none,” replied White Falcon, indignant at the prisoner’s re- spouse. “ To be sure it is, mighty chief of the filthy Yankton Sioux,” retorted Jonathan, with dis- (lain. “ You are disposed to regard your situation quite indifferently, stranger,” asserted White Falcon, “ but—~but—” “ But what, outcast of civilization?” inter- rupted Duiican, defiantly, anticipating some threat from the chief. “ Your insolent language shall be your death- ‘warran ,” afiirmed the chief. “ While our po— nies are resting from their hard ride, we shall The Oracle, Patience and Humility. endeavor to pass the time in trying your power at his coming. He bit his lip to keep back the of endurance by fire and blood-letting. And, to begin with, I will see what you have of val— ue or consequence upon your person; then I will pass you over to the tender mercy of m braves.” " So saying, the renegade chief proceeded to search the person of the ;_)risoner, and his labor was not without reward. In a side-pocket he found a small Derringer revolver, which he at once appropriated. In another pocket he found a small, time-worn picture-case. This he opened, and was almost startled by the sight of the picture that met his eyes. ' It was of a young and beautiful woman, but the style of her dress and the worn and faded condition of the picture was evidence of its having been taken years ago. For some time the chief stood and gazed upon it. At times his eyes wandered away with a vacant stare, and his brows contracted as if he was trying to recall something from the shadows of the for~ gotten past. In addition to the revolver and picture, he found a note upon the captive bear- ing date of a few weeks previous, and which read: “JONATHAN DUNCAN, Esq: » “ Dear Sin—If your search proves unsuccessful in Southern Nebraska, don’t fall to visit the set- tlement on the Niobrara river in Southern Da' kota. I have some evidence of the parties hav- ing drifted into that country. After a long and diligent search, we have found the picture so much desired, and send it herewith. I hope it may prove the key to your success. The reward has been increased to $10,000 “ Your friend, ADAM.” “Ten thousand dollars reward! Just so!” ejaculated the chief in surprise. “ I see now, Jonathan Duncan, Esquire, that you are some kind of a hound of the law, searching for somebody for whom a reward is offered that’d make a poor Indian chief rich; and ma’be it will, for bless my soul if I don’t know where to lay my hands upon a. young lady whose face is the counterpart of this picture. And, as your friend Adam surmises, she is in the Niobrara settlement. Is it the original of this picture, her father, mother, brother, sister or child that you’re in search of? Is he, or she, an heir or heiressi—or an escaped convict, or what?” “Or what,” was the laconic ,reply of J ona— than. “Never mind, Squire Duncan,” replied the chief, placing the picture and paper in his pocket, “ we’ll fetch the truth out of you pretty soon. Fire around one’s shins conduces to ve- racity, and acts as a lubricator to one’s tongue. You can choose between the fire and the truth of the facts connected with this picture and paper.” “ I have no choice, Sir Mighty Outcast,” re- plied Duncan. “ You can act your pleasure.” “Then let my braves set the stake,” the vil— lain said, addressing his warriors. A savage yell burst forth upon the air, and a commotion of joy swayed the group of war— riors. The wildest excitement and activity pervaded the camp, all of which Jonathan Duncan regarded with outward indifference. His inward fears however, assumed painful proportions, for he had not a doubt but that his fate was sealed—that he stood face to face with a horrible death. But he mentally com- mended his soul to God and asked for strength to bear his torture until death came to his re- lief. He knew that a. betrayal of fear, or an appeal to the savages for mercy, would only be prolonging his suffering. He gazed around him—at the green trees overhead, the murmuring river, at the slowly declining sun soon to be blotted from his sight forever. Then his gaze became fixed upon va~ cancy~he was thinking—perhaps of home—of bright faces that were wont to grow brighter emotions struggling upward in his breast. The exclamation of an Indian suddenly drew his attention from these painful reflections. The savages were in cummotion, and for the time being, their attention was diverted from their work by the appearance of an object on the plain about half a mile to the northward. , CHAPTER II. THE ORACLE, PATIENCE AND HUMILITY. THE grove in which the Indians were en- cam, d was but a narrow belt of trees fring— ing shore of the Keys. Paha, and as the view of the plain was but little obstructed by undergrowth, the savages could plainly see the object approaching over the plain; and they had no difficulty in making it, or rather them, out; they werea man, horse and dog. The man was walking and leading the horse, while the dog skulked with lowered head and tall at the heels of the latter. They were mov- ing very slowly and with apparent difiiCulty, and as they drew nearer the red-skins could see that the horse was limping along upon three legs. The man was white—this was easy enough determined by the Sioux, long before he came close enough for them to discriminate between colors. He was coming directly to- ward the point Where they stood, and as he came still closer, White Falcon, as well as the prisoner, heard him suddenly break forth in a song familiar to them, though a stranger to the ears of the chief. .All listened intently, and something like a smile, that came from a sting of remorse, swept over the face of the renegade as he heard the singer trill forth, in hoarse, discordant notes, the words: “Am I a soldier ofthe Cross, A follower of the lamb i" “Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the chief, trying to dispel from his mind some vague recollection of better days, “it’s some crazy tramp, or old religious fanatic. Well, we’ll have some sport with him too, boys, for I see he’s coming on a bee—line for this point. It may be he’s coming to say grace for your soul, Squire Duncan.” “Better say it for yours,” was Duncan’s re- ply. The stranger came on, apparently enraptur- ed by the music of his own voice. He entered the grove and came on within ten paces of the savages before he discovered their presence. When he did, however, his singing ended with a doleful squeak, and he came to a sudden halt. Throwing up his hands in Wild surprise, he drawled forth in a hesitating, woe-begone tone: “Whoa, Patience and Humility! At last, at last, after long journeying through the dos- ert, we’ve struck the camp of the Phillistinesl” In obedience to the command of their mas— ter, the horse stopped, and the dog squatted on his haunches at its heels. A laugh burst from the lips of Gray and his followers. Duncan glanced at the bold intruder in vain hopes that he might recognize him as a friend, or one whohad, in some manner, the power to save him from death. But the sight that met his view was anything but one calculated to inspire hope in a desponding breast. In fact the prisoner had never looked upon a more wretched and pitiable specimen of humanity than the being who had just halted in his pre- sence. He was a. little, wiry-looking man of perhaps five and fifty years, with a thin, long face, a sharp, hooked nose, and small, steel-gray eyes. His mouth was of unusual size and encircled with a short, bristling gray beard. His whole face was comical in its outlines, yet wore an expression of childish simplicity. His eyes were the most remarkable feature of the man. They were possessed of a strange mobility— now glittering with the keenness of a hawk’s, now glowing with the ficrceness of the tiger’s, now beaming with the softness of a maiden’s— always relaxing into that dull, vacant stare of one devoid of reason. His dress was as old and antiquated as him- self. On his head he wore a coon-skin cap, to which had been attached the brim of an old black felt hat. His coat was the remnant of a fine black broadcloth garment; it was several sizes too large for him, and hung upon him like - the proverbial “ shirt on a bean-pole. ” The sleeves were rolled up, displaying his bony wrists, while the remaining half of the skirt rested upon his heel. His pants were made of buck—skin, but unlike the coat, were too small for him, the shortness of the waist permitting his shirt to foam gracefully out over the top. One foot was encased in a moccasin, the other in an old high—topped boot that he had doubt- less picked up around some military post. He carried no weapons of any kind except a large, dull jack-knife, which was evidence of his peaceful‘and harmless spirit. His horse was as sorry a. looking creature as himself. It might have been a quarter of a century old, judging from appearance. It was raw-boned, long—legged and drawn up almost into a knot. Every joint appeared to be stiff, and every limb crippled in some way or other. One of its fore legs was wrapped in a bandage of old rags held in place by strips of fibrous bark. It was with the greatest difficulty that it put foot to the ground; and when ordered to stop by its master, it did so with evident plea— sure. closed its eyes and stood and slept in silence, totally indifferent to the presence of the sav- ages, or the myriad of flies that buzzed around. ‘ A rope answered the purpose of a bridle, and' an old Indian blanket that of a saddle. The dog was a fit companion of the man and horse. He was a cross between the gray— hound and spaniel, though a more abject and cowardly-looking cur could scarcely be found. With his head down, his tail between his legs, he cowered at the heels of the horse, and closed his great, bloodshot eyes and slept in peace. “Well, who are you that comes here singin’ like an escaped Bedlamite?” demanded White Falcon, in feigned anger. “ Me? me?” demanded the doleful—looking old tramp, in great astonishment; “ why, man of sin, I’m the Oracle of Peace come outen the East to proclaim the—” “ The devill” interrupted the renegade, sav- agely, “ you’re lying, man; you’re some infer- nal old spy come sneakin’ round here in dis- 'se.” The chief had resolved to convey this idea, despite his belief that the Oracle was crazy, for fear the man might have been trying to de- ceive him. Insanity; however, showed itself too plainly on every feature to be mistaken in the character before him. “ Harkee, man, to the voice of wisdom speakin’ thro’ years of experience,” the tramp replied, shaking his bony finger reprovingly at Donald Gray; “ I come as you see me, plainly clad—under no disguise. I come to plant the seed of Peace and Christianity into the hearts of the red heathens of America. I’ve suffered many persecutions of body and mind to git here, and the strength of Patience, my boss yere, and 01d Humility, my dorg thar, hev been sorely tried with long sojournin’. But at last, at last we’ve ‘ritched the camp of the benight~ ed red—man, and perchance a season of rest is come' to our weary bodies arter our pilgrim- age.” “Well, from whence came you?” asked the chief. It dropped its head and stubby tail,- “Like John the Baptist, I came from outen the wilderness of J udea.” “Indeed,” replied the chief, to whom, and the other renegades, the tramp’s insane asser- tions had become amusing; “well, Sir Oracle, you look the worse of the wear and tear of the trip.” “ You speak truthfully, man of sin; and Pa— tience, my horse here, and Humility, my dorg thar, hev both been smartly reduced in flesh and spirit—even more than me, for Patience, my boss thar, has carried me ofttimes; while Humility, my dorg thar, has guarded me all night from beasts of prey while I slept, and that you mus’ know’s mos’ awful rackin’ on the physical constitution.” * “ He looks as though he was a savage dog,” said White Falcon. “ I reckon he’d attack a piece of raw meat quick enough, wouldn’t he?” “He may be hungering like his master, and would eat that which is digestible if placed within a git~atable distance. But since leav- ing the fort called Randall, our supplies has been exhausted, and we’ve been trustin’ to Providence for a long time.” “ I’m thinking Providence ’11 let you starve if you don’t help yourself a little.” “Ah!” sighed the man, shaking his head, “that is the doctrine of sin the world over. But why is that man in bonds? Is he not a heathen among you?” “He is, but we’re soon going to send his spirit to the other world; to be plain, we’re going to roast him, and if you tarry long enough your dorg can have——” “Oh, Judea!” exclaimed the Oracle, eleva— ting his hands in horror, and rolling his eyes upward in evident pain, “can’t I prevail on you to let that man go free, that he may re- pent of the deeds done in the body?” “His sins, Sir Oracle,” replied Gray, “ are the same as yours. He had the audacity to intrude upon grounds sacred to the red-men.” “But perchance he came with evil in his heart, whereas I come with love and good will to’rd all mankind, the beast of the field, the birds of the air, and the dwellers in the sea; and to preach to the benighted heathen of Ameriky. Already hev I wrought much good in my travels, though my footsteps hev been beset with all the temptashins that beset the pilgrim in his progress to heaven; yet I feel good in spirit over my deeds.” “I observe that your language savors of ori ental refinement,” said Donald Gray, who was possessed of some education. “Not so much as it used to be. Since I kem into this ’ere land of the ungodly, my langwidge has become korrupted—my words are not alers the most elegant, nor my sentences the most forcible; but they’re sich as can only be un— derstood by the heathens of the land. It’s thro’ necissity, not of choice, that I’m rude into my speech ” , “ I am inclined to think that you are a con- summate old villain—a lying spy, trying to de- ceive us with your insane palaver and idiotic face. But that, let me tell you, you cannot do. You already know too much to leave here alive with that tongue of yours. Braves, see that the old villainis secured against doing us harm.” Ever ready to comply with the will of their chief, the warriors started toward the Oracle, who calmly folded his arms across his breast, and striking an attitude intended for resigna- tion, but which was provokingly comical, he said: “I submit without resistance, you children of benighted minds. Ye needn’t bind me, for I’m more’n willin’ to remain. Thar is Patience, my boss here, and Humility, my dorg thar; take ’em both—feed ’em, and with the respekt due their understandin’. Patience, she comes of noble blood; her sire was as fine a boss as ever pounded Arabian soil, and her dam—ah, she war a noble critter too. And that ’are dorg, bless me! I could trace his pedigree back to Noah and the ark. To be sure I could. But ”—and he turned to his animals—“Pa— tience, go with the heathens——Humility, sub- mit with Christian resignashin.” A savage led Patience to one side and hitched her, while another fastened a lariat around Humility’s neck and tied him to a sapling. The Oracle was not bound, for the chief had not the slightest fear of his attempting to de- sert. He was, in fact, fully satisfied of the man’s insanity, and of his perfect harmless- ness. The savages were about to resume their pro- parations for the execution of Duncan, when the Oracle interrupted them, saying: “Friends, I Want to leave yer camp durin’ the abominable execution of that man, if I’m to leave at all. The smell 0’ burnin’ martyrs alers did make me sick as p’isen. But if I’m to die, let me die fust, and I’ll show him how to go it game, like the ’Postles of old.” There were two other renegades in the party besides Gray, whose recklessness of character had banished all human feeling and mercy from their hearts; and in the crazy tramp and his poor old mare, they foresaw a bit of rare, brutal sport. Sidling up to the chief, one of them said: “ I say, Donald, let’s have some fun with the Oracle of Peace.” H HOW?” “ Give him a chance for his life-Jet him win it in a boss—race.” Donald winked his approval, then burst into a roar of laughter over the idea. _ It is not to be supposed that the Indians were ignorant of what was being said. Seve- ral of them understood the English language, and these interpreted to the others; so that all were enabled to enjoy the sport together. “ Oracle,” said Gray, addressing the tramp, “Wouldn’t you like a chance for life?” “ Verily, life are sweet, even to the vilest critter that creeps, moves or has a bein’,” re- plied the man of peace.