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FRANK STARR & CO.,41 PLATT STREET, N. Y.
New York News Co., 8 Spruce strest, N. ¥

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
   
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THE FORKS Aya
A STORY OF THE PAWNEE WAR.

BY JAMES L. BOWEN.

NEW YORK:

FRANK STARR & CO., PUBLISHERS,
41 Platt Street.

 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by Frank STarR &

Co., in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
(No. 144.)

 
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ON H-H Y HD

 

SIM.

 

CHAPTER I.
Journeying for the Forest Home.

Far away from the busy haunts of men,
where only Indian and wild beast might
have taken up their abode in times past, but
of whose presence the grand forest gave no
indications—where huge forest monarchs
had sprung up and grown to great stature,
to brave the storms of centuries, and finally
sink again upon the bosom of that proud
mother from whom they had sprung—where
a bubbling spring had gushed forth, and its
little rivulet trickled down the side of the
mountain and away over plains till it became

‘a mighty river—where animal and insect

eamboled in the freedom and safety of un-
invaded haunts, bounding hither and thither
in ignorance of that subtle danger which was
pressing toward them, and making their
species every day scarcer and more valuable
upon the face of the earth—where the soli-
tude of nature, and the rich wildness of the
mountain forest-scenery were such as to at-
tract the reflective mind at once toward the
great’ Architect of unnumbered worlds—
repose the group to which we would call at-
tention.

The ground at this particular point was
hilly, rising in wavy undulations to the
hight of twenty or thirty feet, heavily
covered with virgin forest, and watered bya
delightful stream, which ran in zig-zags
hither and thither, affording place of habita-
tion to immense numbers of the finny tribe.
Away to the northward the hills rose into
bold, heavy mountains, and, fur as the eye
could reach, the horizon was bounded by their
blue tops.

Such was the physical aspect of the place.
Around a cheery fire, whose bright blaze
might be seen far through the forest, were
seated three men, engaged in conversing and
roasting some fine fish, which the adjacent
siream had just given to them, almost with-
out an effort. A rude hut of boughs had
been built near them, within which could be
seen the forms of two iadies, earnestly en-
gaged in conversation. Two wagons stood
ata little distance, beside each of which a
span of horses were quieily eating the forage
which had been provided for them.

 

The reader will hardly need to be to.d
that this was an emigrant party upon a small
scale, journeying through the wide regions
of our own great west, seeking a home nearer
the occident. They had reached their present
camping place about an hour previous,
After discharging their various duties—in-
cluding the building of the bush hnt for the
two women—they had caught a supply of
fish, and were now preparing them in their
own style.

The first, seated near the fire, and slowly
turning an improvised spit, is Luman Leon-
ard, principal man in the group. He has —
seen somewhat more than filty years—years
of change and vicissitude. East and west he
has been a wanderer for quite fwo score
years, but now he has made a final determi-
nation; and, with his family, is on his way
to a new home, far in the western wilds.
Those two wagons contain all his earthly
effects, as well as those of another of whom
we will speak soon.

Luman Leonard was not a man of very
decided character, and that wait was fully
expressed in his features. Thus it was that,
at his age of life, he still continued a wan
derer upon the face of the earth. A will more
powerful than his own could sway and
mold him like clay in the hands of the pot-
ter, And yet, at times, there was a seeming
determination about him amcunting almost
to stubbornness. In a word he was whimsi
cal and eccentric.

Seated near him was a lad, fifteen years of
age, tall and somewhat ungainly in form,
though his appearance betokened much
energy and great strength for one of his
years, He was busily engaged with a huge
Jack-knife, carving fanciful designs in wood,
occasionally casting his great gray eyes
about him, into the darkness of the forest.

At a short distance from the others, also
engaged in the preparation of their pisca-
tory repast, sat a young man of five-and-
twenty years. In essentials he differed much
from both of those by whom he was flanked.
In personal appearance he was about the mid-
dle size, rather light of build, but with full
muscular development. His dress was neat
and carefully arranged, though with no show
of vain display. His features were regular,
ae

8 ONE-EYED SIM,

and a. light of steady intelligence burned in
his dark eyes. His hair and beard, both of
which were worn full and flowing, were of a
dark, glossy brown. Taken all in all, Frank
Sherman was just the man to lead captive
the heart of a romantic maiden.

And rumor said that no other reason had
taken him away into the western wilds with
Luman Leonard and his family. For—

Seated within the rude bower already
mentioned, were two women, the general
resemblance between whom was sufficient to
establish their relation as mother and daugh-
ter, at a glance.

The elder, a woman of perhaps forty-five,
whose features showed many traces of care,
if not of positive sorrow, was Maria, the
wife of Luman Leonard. She had evidently
been a beauty in her youth, but with sad re-
sults to herself. That beauty had attracted
the notice of a purposeless, vacillating man,
and for more than twenty years she had
followed his uncertain fortunes, to the pre-
sent day.

The other, a fresh, blooming, beautiful
maiden of twenty, was Cora Leonard, the
daughter. The rare loveliness of the mother
had descended in full share to her, But
wisdom and beauty had joined hands in the
present instance, and Cora was already pos-
sessed of more than an ordinary share of dis-
cretion.

It was a year since Frank Sherman first
formed her acquaintance, and long before
their removal he had become an open suitor
for her hand. When the family finally pre-
pared to depart, and Frank cast his lot with
theirs, it was deemed proof positive that his
wooing had not been all in vain.

“Now, what a supper these fish would
make, cook ’em up in style, and hey’ a little
table tew eat ’em off on,” said Leonard, after
a time of unusual silence. But, if a feller’s
aa tew move, he’s got to expect to fare rough.

hank my stars, this ends my hoistin’ round
the country! No purtier place in my opin-
ion than this fur our new home. I say here
we pitches our tent.”

Frank Sherman looked up for a moment,
as though he would like to congratulate his
companion upon his resolution; but if so he
did not venture to do so, merely replying :

“These are very fine fish; we seldom had

. any as good where we uscd to live.”

“That's a fact. Give me the West, if a
feller wants to live, and take some comfort of
his life, Well, justlook at these fish ; every
thing clse isin proportion. And then theland
—a month’s work hereabout will raise a
man’s livin’ for a year. “And what you raise
you can calculate on hevin’ yerself. There
ain’t plaguey gangs of thieves organized
and onorganized, to pick up every thing that.
they can lay their hands on. Here if a fel-
ler’s sick ‘tain’t quite so pleasant, but then,
ye ain't half so likely to be sick !”

Having thus demonstrated, to his own sat-
isfaction, the advantages of the region which
they had then reached on the “borders of
civilization,” Leonard hegun to slowly gather
up the fish that were quite ready for the feast

 

THE HUNTER.

to be made of them. Frank Sherman fol-
lowed his exan ple, and both were preparing
to transport their luscious dishes to the table
extemporised on the ground near the wagons,
when a new party arrived upon the scene.

They were barely conscious that some per-
son came bounding through the forest, and
dashed by them, but were recalled to life and
action at seeing the brands from their blazing
fire hurled-in every direction.

“Stop !” exclaimed Frank, grasping the in-
truder by one arm, when he had sufticiently
recovered from the surprise of so sudden an
act. “ What is the meaning of all this ?”

“Don’t stop tew ask questions,” shouted
the stranger, freeing himself from Frank’s
grasp by a quick movement. “If ye don’t
want tew lose the skin o’ yer’ heads jest
take holt and put out this fire.”

And without any intermission he proceed-
ed to scatter the blazing brands.

“But we want to know what you mean;
what you are doing this for,” said Frank,
pees angered, producing a pistol from his

elt.

“Don’t show such tools to me,” return-
ed the intruder, with perfect nonchalance.
“ You'll find plenty of other use for’em. The
Injins are all abroad, aud this woods is full
of em, not five mile from here. If they once
git a sight o’ this fire, ye may as well hev’ yer
prayers said, aforehand.”

he young man blanched visibly at the
news, and stood for a moment regarding the
speaker with doubt. es

“Js that a fact ?” he finally demanded.

“ Ye don't mean to accuse me of lyin’ tew
ye, I hope?” was the sharp question which
met his own.

“Not in the least,” returned Frank, with-
out any hesitation. “ But I thought it quite
possible you might be joking with us. I was
not aware that we were within the Indians’
erone, nor that the savages were hos-
tile.

“ Horse-tile, is it? I guess a are; never
seen ’em wuss in my life, and I’ve follered
the woods for near thirty years. They kill-
ed off my old chum, Billy Larkin, day afore
yesterday, and I’ve been a tryin’ tew pay
em off sence.” :

Thus far Luman Leonard had stood agape,
listening to the revelaticns of his singular
visitor. But now he came in front of him,
and demanded :

“Ts this Indian country ?”

“In course it are! All this side of the
mountains is their territory.”

“ What in the world’s it best fer a feller to
dew in that case, stranger ?”

The person addressed turned a searching
look upon the speaker, and then replied,
slowly :

“IT don’t know what ye want to dew, .

But if ye want tew git off with yer’ life, and
the lives o’ yer friends, ye’d better hitch up
yer hosses, and git back toward the Missa-
sipp as fast as ye can go.”

“ Would ye go to-night?”

“To-night or et as ye kin afford.
But one thing Pl ye for sartain—ye’ll

 
|
|

o to-night ornever. I happened to spy yer’
fire, and lef. my dog to watch the Injins
while I cut cff this way and put it out. Now
ye’ve got fair warnin’, ye kin dew just as
ye’re a mind tew about savin’ the skin o’
yer heads.”

“Well, I declare, I don’t know what to
dew,” repeated Luman, once or twice. “ You
Bay the Injins hey’ riz?”

“T didn’t say. But if ye are goin’ to save
Any o’ yer dewins what’s aboard o’ them
wagins, ye’d better hitch up, and be makin’
tracks back. For I kin tell ye ’twon’t be
long afore they'll be here. I’ve left my dog
Pinchers tew watch ’em, and he’ll bring us
word when they gittew near. So, ifye’re goin’,
be about it, and ['ll go along with ye apiece,
and tell ye more o’ the partickelars; but I
ain’t goin’ tew dally here a great while.”

“What shall we dew, Frank?” asked
Leonard, hesitating in hisown mind. “ What
d’ye say, women—shall we turn round and
go back ?’,

If the stranger’s story could be relied upon
it was wisdom for them to flee immediately;
and such a depth of rough sincerity pervad-
ed his actions that with one accord they ad-
vised a retreat.

“Well, come, Alvin; I s’pose we'd better
hitch up if we're goin’,” said the parent, ad-
dressing his son.

“So I s’pose,” was the drawling reply.
“But, it does seem pesky hard tew leave
afore I git a chance tew try my old ‘ Bunker
Hill’ on ’em once!”

“T reckon you'll hev’, all the chance to try
‘em you'll want, if you don’t hurry up a lit-
tle more’n you hey’ done,” responded the
stranger. “ Now, either put them hosses on
in double-quick time, or else leave ’em; for
iv’s my idee the Injins ain’t agoin’ tew sleep
but two winks to-night.”

Jonstant urging on the part of the stran-
ger, coupled with Frank’s earnest endeavors,
finally succeeded in getting the horses attach-
ed to the wagons, such goods as had been
removed replaced, and the party in readiness
to set forth.

CHAPTER IL
The Hunter.

“ ON there, and off ye go, whoever’s goin’
tew drive !” shouted the stranger, when the
ladies had been carefully stowed away in the
forward wagon. a

Alvin Leonard answered the summons,
and gathered up the lines, preparatory to a
start. The second team being attached to
the rear of the first wagon, and trained to
travel in that style, required no separate
driver. The boy’s father and Frank, there-
fore, took their rifles and walked along in
the rear of the little train, not only to lighten
the wagons, but to guard them more effect-
ually.
ms Vex needn’t be any afeard o’ Injins,” re-
marked the strange scout, seeing his’com-
Psnions glance around apprehensively, “I've

THE STRANGE HUNTER.

  

got a dog thar’ watchin’ ’em what'll bring us
word afore there is any danger from ’em.”

“One that has been trained to Indian-fight-
ing, I should judge,” said Frank.

“That's so. He’s been with me eight year
last August, and I dew say, if I’d got to take
my pick between any man I ever seen and
that dog tew help me in a tight place, I
should take the dog. Trueas ye live. But
I’ve knowed some good men for that same
job; Billy Larkin was jist as fine a feller
as ever ye see. Not so quick-witted as some,
but jist show him a piece of red-skin as big
as yer thumb-nail, andif he wouldn’t put a
rifle-ball through it, anywhere within fifty
rods, ye may sell me for a gourd. But,
poor Billy—the cusses finished him at last,
and I’ve been payin’ ’em off for two days.
It’s been a dear job to’em and _ they hain’t
got over it yit. Poor Billy! Him and me
had trapped and hunted and fit together for
near four years, and he seemed like a brother
tew me. Oh, the consarned heathin! Dll
make em sup sorrer jist for that same thing !”

The scout clenched his hand, and bit his
teeth together violently. As they walked on
in the soft starlight, winding about amid the
hills, they were enabled to observe the person
and appearance of the stranger more closely
than at the moment of his arrival.

In person he was tall and lank, but pos-
sessing immense muscular development. His
long arms, swinging loosely at his side, had
the appearance of bundles of thew and
sinew. His garb was coarse and worn,
formed in a great degree of the prepared
skins of animals, some with and some with-
out the hair. Warm and uncomfortable as
this garb might be for summer wear, it was
very well adapted to the cooler seasons, and
as it was yet early in the spring, he had not
lain it aside. h

In one hand he sported a ponderous rifle,
which very few men could have held out
steadily, yet he regarded it as a boy might
regard a stick, tossing it hither and thither
with the utmost carlessness. In his belt
stuck a large knife,and a pair of pistols, while
horn and pouch were slung over his shoulder
in the usual style of his class.

But all these were ordinary features; it
was none of them wiich fixed the attention
of Frank Sherman. For some time he
sought in vain to find the puzzling feature.
He surveyed the fuce of the stranger by the
starlight, and wondered what made him
seem so singular.

True, his countenance was long and thin,
the lower portion of it being covered by a
bristling beard. The mouth was completely
concealed beneath the hairy trap, and above
it appeared the outlines of a prominent nose.
Then he looked at the eyes. Ah! There it
was! \

The stranger had but one eye!

The other was sunken, and the brow and
lids were contracted about it so as to par-
tially fill the cavity. From the socket a
broad scar extended back nearly to the ear
on that side, showing that some dangerous

 

chance had deprived the hunter of that useful

 

 
 

 

 

 

10 ONE-EYED SIM, THE HUNTER.

member. The remaining orb, which was
of a keen gray, burned and sparkled with
the fire of an unrelenting purpose. It seemed
to Frank Sherman that he had never seen a
human eye whose glance was so utterly un-
bearable as that of the strange hunter, whose
name was not even known to them; not-
withstanding the fact that they were fleeing
from a supposed danger at his behest.

Recollecting tinis fact, the young man said:

“T suppose you will have no hesitation to
tell us who and what you are, and the na-
ture of the Indian troubles which threaten
us.’

The stranger ran his single eye over the
frame of the speaker, ejected a mouthfull of
tobacco juice, and then slowly responded :

“There ain’t many in these yere parts,
white or red, but what knows Sim Simp-
kins. But, seein’ ye’re all strangers, and
don’t even know enuff tew take keer of yer-
selves when the Injins is round, I s’pose
*tain’t no matter o’ wonder that ye don’t know
me. Sim Simpkins, as I said, is my name,
and no name that I’m ashamed on. I’ve
carried it for five-an’-forty years, and all that
while it’s sarved me a good turn. ‘One
Eye’ the Injins call me, and that name
answers their purpose jest as well as any

- other.

“ve traveled these yere forests ever
sence I’s a lad, and skessly a year o’ all that
time but what thar’s been some kind 0’
trouble with the reds. So I can’t be con-
sidered parfec’ly green in the matter o Injin-
eraft. First I went intew it wi’ my old dad
and unkle. But one at a time they got
knocked over brushiw’ it with the copper dogs,
and left me purty much alone. Most likely
Pll foller the same way they went, sooner or
later, but it’s one consulashin, I’ve sent more
nor a hundred o’ the critters off, one time or
another. It counts up fast when ye knock
over from one tew a half dozen every day for
a month, and like nuff keep it up all summer
about that way.”

While speaking, the hunter had kept his
eye in active use, making certain that no
danger for which they were not prepared
threatened the party. At this juncture he
paused several moments, listening intently,
and seeming to take in at one grand sweep
the whole array of the forest forces about
them. Apparently satisfied that all was
right, he proceeded : :

“Twas goin’ tew tell ye about this present
Injin rampage. Ye see it’s the Pawnees,
cuss their infarnal, nasty hides. Wal, it
seems they’ve some cause to feel bad, for a
few raskilly scamps, what’s the’same color as
you and me, outside, went off intew their
country, and killed some of their women
an’ children, jist out of pure diviltry. "Taint
much wonder it made the Injins rave. Well,
them scamps got clear, most on’em, and the
Injins they jest went in for a general scrim-
mage.

“Me and Billy Larkin had been out trap-
pin’ through the winter, aud a poor fellow
what had one of their stray balls in his body
came along, and told us how the Pawnees

the way about the red-skins.

‘round.

had riz, and karkilated tew sweep all afore
‘em. We helped the poor fellow up what
we could, then sent hirn on his way. Arter
he was gone we talked if over, Billy and me,
and made up our minds that we couldn’t
stay there any longer; besides it was gittin’
late, and about time to move, anyway. We
didu’t feel like turnin’ our backs on ’em
afore we knew any thing what was up, and
so we talked it over, and Billy said he thought
we'd better go out and meet ’em, I didn’t
say yis or no to it, ’cause I didn’t much care.
But long as Billy wanted tew go I’s willin’,
so we pulled up stakes, buried our traps, and
burned up our shanty.

“We started off, with every thing we had in
the world on our backs, savin’ the traps we
had buried, and some few skins, that warn’t
of no great account, anyway.

“his fellow what I’se speakin’ on, he told
us about where the Injins was when he got
hit, and karkilated they didn’t intend comin’
much nearer, not that way, at least. So we
went out within about five miles vo’ where we
s'posed they was, and stopped for the night.
Billy took the fust watch, so 1 laid down, and
in about five jiflies was sound asleep.

“The fust thing I knew Billy was holdin’
ontew my arm, aud whisperin’, ‘I’m afeard
the Injins are ’round, Sim; 1 wish you'd see.’
As I said, he warn’t the quickest feller in the
world tew make out any thing, but oncelet
him put a rifle-sight ontew a feiler, and ’twas
all day with him. So I begun tew listen,
and I found out that he warn’t a bit out o’
They was all
round the woods, and I made up my mind
right off that they was makin’ a night tramp
on’t. Sez I, Billy, we’ve got tew git off out
0’ this the best way we can. Right off this
way, and creep for it, sez I.

“So we crept off the way it seemed most
likely we shouldn’t find any of the plaguey
cusses. But they’s all round us. We crept
and crawled till it seemed we must have got
well clear of ’em, but then ye might listen,
and hear ’em all round. Finally, it seemed
we had got clear, and so we both listened to
see if any o’ the varmints was any where
We couldn’t hear nothin’, and then
we concluded tew walk. So we got ontew
our feet, and begun to travel. But in less’n
a minit Billy stepped onastick. It cracked,
and I hearn an Injin grunt; next minit off
went a gun, and poor Billy sung out, ‘ I’m
shot, Sim.’

“ Well, blame me, fellers, if ever any thing,
from the day my old dad was killed, tool
meas that did. ‘Where is it? sez 1; but
afore he could tell me the Injins give a yell,
and three or four on ’’em come, lickety bang,
right ontew us. Billy had dropped tew the
ground, but he made out tew get his rifle up,
and one o’ them raskils never knowed what
hurt’em. The rest warn’t much better, for
I went intew ’em rough and ready. Mebby
some on ’em got away, but if they did [
didn’t see’em. Every one what 1 sot eyes
on fell down and hurt his head, so’t he never
got over it.

“By’n-by I got through with ’em, and

 

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Seeneeene
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A REMARKABLE DOG. uu

then I hurried back to find Billy, and see
how bad he’s hurt, I tried to git him up,
out the poor fellow wouldn’t hear any thing
to that. ‘Its no use, Sim, he said; ‘I’m
done for; take care o’ yerself, and leave me
here, the Injins can't hurt me any more.’
Course I wouldn’t leave an old comrade that
way, 80 I jest took him up in my arms, and
made tracks as fast as I could with my load.
I was in hopes I could git him off, and doc-
tor him up, somewhere. But thar’s no sich
thing. I didn’t go more’n a quarter 0’ a
mile afore I stopped and sot him down.
Twas starlight, and I could see his face
toler’bly, seein’ the trees was open above us.
I saw then that it warn’t no use, for the poor
feller was high about gone.

“He didn’t breathe more nor a dozen
breaths arter that, and when I’s sartin he’d
died, I pressed his eyelids together. Blame
me, chaps, but ’twas a hard job that—” and
the rough speaker dashed away a tear. “T
carried him off as far asI could, easy, and
then I scooped him out a shallow grave
beside a rock, and put him in. The Injins
didn’t seem to track me right off, for I had
plenty o’ time to fix up round the body o’
my poor friend. I waited till mornin’, and
then I crawled back where the Injins was.
T seen a lot of ’em sittin’ round a fire, and I
jist plumped two on ’em in a line. Both
tumbled, and while the red-skins was makin’
up their minds what had happened, I was
jest slippin’ back out o’ the way.

“Wall, to make a long story short, I kept
harpin’ away like that all day yisterday, and
to-day I’ve played ’em the same game. Good
old Pinchers has helped me out of one or
tew scrapes, and killed one red-skin on his
own account. I was jest fallin’ back tew
wait for the Injins to-morrow mornin’, when
I happened tew see your fire. It’s about the
time o’ night the Injins move, and I wouldn’t
be surprised ifthey’s a-sneakin’ along behind
us at this very minit.”

“You don’t spose there’s any danger 0’
their cuttin’ off a feller ?” demanded the star-
tled Luman Leonard. :

“ Sartin, I do,” returned Simpkins, quite
coolly, as it seemed to the listeners. “Yenever

-can tell what these cusses willdew. But, one

thing’s sartin, Pinchers ’ll bring us news if
they git uncomfortably near.”

Suddenly he paused, with a sharp “ hiss,”
which put his companions on the alert.
Then he bent his ear to the ground for a
moment, rising with an indescribable expres-
sion upon his face,

The mystery of his movements was soon
solved, however. First a gentle movement,
and then the quick patter of some four-
footed animal, was followed by the appear-
ance of a large, fierce-looking mastiff, which
trotted up to Simpkins, and, after looking the
hunter full in the face, turned about and
gazed in the direction whence he had come
with a singular intelligence.

“What is it, Pinchers?’ demanded his
oe placing one hand upon the animal’s

ead.

The brute uttered a low growl, snapping

 

his teeth together with a force which sent an
involuntary chill to the blood of Frank and
Luman.

“Yesee what the animal says,” remarked
his master, turning toward his companiong
“Now, maybe ye kin read in books, and un
derstand somethin’ from the black marks on
the paper. I can’t, cause I never had any
sech chance. But when that dog acts like
that, I kin read ‘ red-skins,’ as plain as you
can what’s made with ink and stuff onto
paper.”

“Do ye think they’re comin’?’ asked
Leonard, endeavoring to pierce the darkness
from which the faithful animal had emerged,

“Think so? No; I know it! I tell you,
Td a great deal sooner depend on this dog
than any livin’ man I know. If poor Billy
had minded the dog, he hed no need tew hev’
been killed as he was. It’s jest as I told ye,
the tarnal critters are goin’ tew make a night
move on’t.”

“Then what hed we better dew ?” pur-
sued Luman.

“ Dew nothin’ but hurry on yer wagins as
fast as ye kin, and keep ’em out o’ the way,
where the Injins won’t catch a sound from
’em. While you’re dewin’ that I’ll fall back,
with the pup, and see about mister Injin.
If any thing is up one of us ’ll let you know
it. ‘

 

CHAPTER III.
The First Sacrifice.

Every one in the group felt that not a mo-
ment was to be lost. Singular though it
might be, the strange scout had taken a deep
interest in the fortunes of the little emigrant
party with whom he had come in contact,
and resolved to save them from the infernal
horrors which would be their certain lot at
the hands of the savages, should the latter
but once succeed in getting them into their
power. That they would do this, if the most
strenuous means were not used, Simpkins
had no noubt.

Whispering a few words of instruction to
his dog, which the animal seemed to compre-
hend, the daring man wheeled into the forest
to meet and brave the coming savages,
while Luman Leonard and his companions
hurried on the wagon. This was an un-
usually difficult task from the nature of the
rround over which they were moving.

‘here was a mere trail, winding hither and
thither in the forest, blind enough in the full
light of day, next to impossible to follow in
the darkness of a moonless night. To add
to the disadvantages, when the trail was
found it ran up hill and down, over creeks
and stones, brushwood andruts. To attempt
fast driving over such uncertain ways would
be about as certain destruction as falling into
the hands of the Indians,

Still the party managed to keep up a =
respectable pace. Mr. Leonard going in ad-
vance to select the way, while Frank, at his
own request, followed in the rear to catch
any tidings or sounds from Sim Simpkins.
 

 

 

 

12 ONE-EYED SIM,

The women, pale and distressed, conferred
together in anxious tones, while the over-
grown boy, who officiated as driver, handled
his reins with trembling hands, fearing, yet
almost hoping for an encounter with the In-
dians.

It was not half an hour before the quick
tread of Simpkins was heard in the forest,
and with astealthy, gliding step he moved up
to the rear of the little train.

“ What is it ?’ demanded Frank, who was
beside him in a moment.

“You'll hey’ tew onhitch the hosses, and
leave this part o’ the country mighty a
wagins and all, or you'll be goners. The In-
jins hey’ got the scent, and are comin’ like
mad.”

“ But I can’t leave the wagons,” returned
Leonard, who had heard the announcement ;
“all I hey’ in the world is in them.”

“Don’t make any odds,” was the stern re-
ply. “Be quick in what I tell you, or ye’ll
repent of it. Quick, you women; out and
onter these hosses. You, boy, straddle one,
and you, stranger, take the other. There,
now, you are all right. Go ahead, and if we
kin keep the red-skins back, so’z to give yea
fair start we'll dew it. Now go on.’

While Sim had been keeping up this run-
ning conversation, the horses had been de-
tached from the wagons, the women mount-
ed upon two of them, Mr. Leonard and his
son occupying the others. It seemed hard to
them to leave the bulk of their earthly goods
to the savages, but it was a consolation that
they had a fair quantity of ammunition, all
their ready money, and many little articles
of comfort and use on their persons. But,
however great the sacrifice might be, it was
a pleasure to save the lives of so many, and
their hesitation at the step was but mo-
‘mentary.

As they were about riding away, Frank
sprung to the side of Cora’s horse, and grasp-
ed her hand in his own for a moment.

“You must be very careful, dear,” he
whispered.

“J will,’ was the faltering response.
“ And you, Frank, have more need than my-

_ Self to be careful, for you haye no horse to

Jepend upon.”

“ Never fear for me,” was the encouraging
reply. “ This stranger is a host in himself. 1
am not afraid to trust his guidance.”

With a mutual pressure of the hand they
separated. Cora rode on with the family,
and Frank turned to the side of the hunter.

“The Injins ain’t quite here yet,” remarked
the latter. “I left Pinchers tew look out for
’em; but they'll be here soon; while we’re
waitin’ for’em, letv’s run these tew wagons
up alongside, and set ’em afire !”

“Do you think we'll have to do that ?”
asked Frank.

“No, we sha’n’t kev’ to dew any thing of
the kind. We can leave’em for the Injins,
and let them pull’em over, but that ain’t
what I want. I’ve got ause for’em. You
jest step back behind that big tree yonder,
and T’ll show ye what ’tis.”

The young man obeyed the behest, and

 

THE HUNTER.

when the one-eyed hunter had placed the
heavy we rnd alongside each other, which
he seemed to do with comparative ease, he
busied himself by applying fire to the con-
tents ofone. Fanning the sparks thus ob-
tained into a gentle blaze, he applied it to
the other, and was gratified to observe both
vehicles spring into a light flame.

Gliding away he rejoined his companion,
and regarded the progress of his work with
satisfaction.

“Keep yer eye out for any ’o the tor-
ments,” he said, “ while I look back here a
few rods for just such a place as ] want. Til
show ye some fun, pretty soon.”

He crept away into the darkness, leaving
Frank utterly mystified as to his intentions.
Presently he pulled the young man by the
sleeve, almost before the latter was aware of
his presence.

“Come,” he whispered. “I’ve found jest
the place, whar’ we kin pick out the reds at
our leisure. Here, now,” and he pointed toa
large fallen log, partially decayed and bedded
into the ground, “ plank yourself on ’tother
side of that, and keep watch till some Injins
make their appearance. You'll see’em soon,
now.”

Even as he ceased speaking there was a
slight commotion in the forest beside them,
and Pinchers made his appearance, exhibiting
the same signs as upon the former occasion.

“Thar’ they come,” remarked Simpkins,
placing himself behind the log, beside his
companion. “Here, Pinchers, lay down
here, and rest yourself. INow, keep an eye
out. The Injins ‘ll naterally gather round
that fire. hen they dew pint your rifle
intew the thickest clump ye can see, and let
em hey’ it. Dll follow ye up. That'll nater-
ally put the Injins tew their trumps a bit.
Then we'll be governed by what seems best.
Sh; there they come !”

At that moment the dusky features of an
Indian appeared beyond the blazing wagons,
quickly followed by others to the number of
twenty or more. As Sim had predicted, they
gathered about the fire, which was rather
agreeable, as the evening was quite cool.
They were fierce, dreadful-looking foes to
one who had never seen them before, arrayed
as they were, in all the horrors of war-paint.

Almost reluctantly the young man brought
his rifle to bear upon them over the log, for
it seemed suicidal to him to fire upon such a
gathering of savages. But the old scout was
calm, though his single eye glowed witha
strange light.

“Tet ’em have it!” he whispered, as the
group seemed upon the point of moving on,
toward them.

Witha dreadful shudder at heart the young
man brought down his rifle-sight, full among
the dusky throng, and when it covered the
left breast of a tall savage he pulled the trig-

er.
. In quick succession came a flash, a report,
the falling of the savage, and a yell of mad-
dened surprise from the Indian’s companions,
Grasping their weapons they turned in the

,

direction whence the single shot had come,
and seemed prepared to wreak vengeance
upon the unseen marksman.

But Sim Simpkins, cool and collected, had
risen to one knee, with his rifle resting across
it. He waited until the exact moment, and
then threw out his heavy barrel.

¥ “This goes for poor Billy Larkin,” he said,
and fired.

It did not seem to Frank that he had even
lanced through the sights, but one Indian
fell dead, and another staggered from the
ball, which he received in the shoulder. The
effects of the shot were electrical. Almost
before the resonance of the report had died
away, not an Indian remained within the
radiance of the burning wagons, save the
two whose war-path had ended so suddenly.
The balance of the party had sought the
nearest cover, and begun to fire their guns
and arrows idly in the direction where the
fatal messengers had sped. But their shots
were foolishly in vain.

Pausing long enough to witness the result
of his shot, Sim grasped Frank by the hand,
and led him quickly from the spot.

“Load yer rifle as ye go,” he said, when
they had gained a safe distance. “ Hear the
blind fools rattling away,” he added, as shot
after shot was fired. “ They’d better save
their powder and ball, and hurry along, if
they’re goin’ to walk with us.”

They reloaded their guns as they ran, and
when that delicate operation had been per-
formed, Simpkins paused. For a few mo-
ments he listened intently.

“Hark!” he said, at length. “Don’t you
hear them pattin’ round out there ?”

“T think so,” the young man replied, in a
moment.

“That’s what you hear,” continued the
veteran Indian-fighter. “‘ They’re sartin we’re
round there, somewhere, and they mean to
nose us out. Let’em work. We can slip
back about ten rods, and give ’em another
salute. Ivll work different from the fust.
They'll make a rush till they git beyond
the spot whar’ the smoke riz. But when
they don’t find any thing they’ll naterally
stop to hunt, and’ poke all about to see
what's become of us.”

The two men begun to work their way
back, and when they had reached a point
which seemed to strike the old scout’s fancy,
they stopped.

“Now ye want tew aim right whar’ ye
hear their steps,” he said. “Then, as soon’z
ye’ve fired, take yer back track, and cut for
good. Pinchers "ll watch the red-skins, and
bring us word when they’re up tew any
mishief.”

The last remark was addressed to the dog,
who wagged his tail in reply, and crept
away into a thicket near by with the most
silent movements.

“ Now then, shewt right off throngh here,”
said Simpkins, indicatng the proper direction
to his companion. “ Hold yer tire till I say
ready, and then blaze away. Now, ready—
Fire!”

The two sharp cracks which followed
could scarcely have been distinguished from a

READY—FIRE!

 

  

A yell of pain and rage
came from the Indians in the distance, but

single heavy report.

without stopping for any further revelations
the two dashed away with all the speed
which was allowable under the circumstances.
Rough as was the way they made good pro-
gress, and flattered themselves at the pros-
pect of leaving the savages far behind.

“ Give me yer rifle,” said Simpkins, when
he had finished reloading his own, which
operation he seemed to perform almost as
readily upon a keen run as standing still.
“TJ want a ball, too; mine’s too big.”

He received the desired articles, and soon
had the rifles both in a condition for imme-
diate use. Then he paused, and after listen-
ing a few moments, during which all ap-
peared silent, he said: ,

“T reckin the red-skins air hun‘in’ fer us
yit.. Wal, let ’em work at it. Whi they’re
dewin’ that, we'll be gittin’ out o’ their way.”

“You don’t think there will be any danger
but that the family will get back to the set-
tlement in safety now, I suppose,” said Frank,
his voice visibly affected.

“T ain’t a proffit, nor the sun of a proffit,
nor the seventeenth darter o’ a proffit, and so
I can’t tell,” replied Simpkins. “But one
thing I kin say, purty sartin; if we stave ’em
off for an hour or two longer, I shall feel
great hopes of gittin’ ye all out safe. There’s
hosts 0’ the Injins, and not but a few of us.
But Pawnees ain’t over ’n above brave, and
if once their spunk begins tew fail, it's clean
gone. I'll dew my best to git ye threw. Td
dew it if ’twas only fer yer own sake, young
man. I must say Pve tuk a likin’ tew ye
and I'll make my best tally for your side.’

The look of satisfaction and gratitude
which Frank cast upon his companion were
not observed ; for, at that moment, an appall-
ing cry and shrieks burst upon their ears,’

 

CHAPTER Ivy.
Out Of.

“WHAT can that mean?” demanded
Frank, catching his companion by the arm.

“There ain’t but one thing it kin mean,”
was the quick reply. ‘The cut-throats hey’
got our friends intew trouble, and if we’re
ere ter help’em any, we'll hey’ to be on

and for it.”

“Then don’t let us loose a minute, for
heaven’s suke!” was the almost frantic re-
sponse. “Oh, God! If we should be too
late!”

From the forest in advance of them, had
come shouts, and shots, and cries. Well they
knew that their friends had encountered
some portion of the terrible Pawnee band,
and to Frank, especially, the thought that
they might be defeated, perhaps massacred
at once, was dreadful.

Holding their rifles ready for instant use,
the twain set forward at around pace, Frank,
keeping his place beside the taller scout, who
strode on as though darkness and uneven-
ness of ground were no impediment to him. ,

 

 

  
       
    
 
   
   
  
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
 
   
    
   
   
   
   
    
  
    
    
  
    
   
   

as

 

14

 

Suddenly both paused, for, right in ad-
vance of them, the hasty tramping of horses
could be heard.

“There they come, back again,” said
Frank, almost joyfully.

“Don’t be tew sure; it may be the In-
rosy returned his companion. ‘“ Step be-
hind this tree, and cock your rifle.”

“No, it’s them,” said the young man, a
moment later. ‘ Don’t you see the flutter
of the women’s dresses ?”

“T guess you're right, my boy, arter all.
Speak tew ’em, and let’s see.”

“Leonard! Leonard! Cora! Is that you?”
the youth cried, placing himself in the path
before them.

The panic-stricken party brought up their
scarcely less frightened steeds with some
difficulty, and when he had succeeded in
bringing his party to a pause, Luman Leon-
ard replied :

“Yis, i’s us; is it you, Frank?”

“Certainly. What is the matter?”

“We run right intew a nest of the critters,
out yonder, and like to hey’ all got killed,”
was the hurried answer. “I fear they’ve
done for Alvin, poor boy !”

“Not killed?” demanded Frank, with a
dreadful pang at his heart.

“ He was struck, and tumbled off his nag,
and the rest of us had an all-fired narrer es-
cape,” pursued the excited father. ‘The
Injins are arter us, lickety-split. What’ll we
dew, Mister What’s-yer-name ?”

“Ye’ve got intew a clus’ scrape,” said Simp-
kins. “ My way would be tew git off’n them
hosses, and cut their throats, ye can’t dew
any more with ’em.”

“But the wimmin folks?” questioned Lu-
man.

“Tf they can’t go afoot, ye’ll hey’ tew keep
the hosses,” was the decided answer.

“We can,” said Mrs. Leonard. “I am quite
willing to make the attempt, if itll be of any
use. .

“And so am IJ,” added Cora. “It’s a pity
if we can not walk a little distance, when
these brave men are daring every thing for
our sakes.”

“Spoken like a sensible little gal, said
Simpkins. ‘“ Off you come.”

And grasping her in his brawny arms, he
slung her to the ground as though she had
been a sack of feathers. In a moment his
keen knife passed through the horse’s neck,
and the others quickly received like wounds.

“Now we go this way, quick!” he ex-
claimed, leading them off at right angles
with their former course.

“Dad, is that you?” called a voice, as they
had hardly quitted the forest trail.

“Iva Alvin!” exclaimed the overjoyed
parent. “He ain’t dead, arter all, Here we
be, my boy.”

“Hush-sh!” warned the scout, grasping
the inconsiderate speaker by the arm.
“Don’t ye know yer’ right among red-skins,
and if ye don’t keep parfictly quiet, and not
make any noise louder'n oe nateral breath-
in’, they'll hev’ ye arter all? Now mind that,

ONE-EYED SIM, THE HUNTER.

While they were p ishing forward at thetr
best speed, he turned back, and grasped the
boy’s hand, leading him along with an ex-
clamation of caution. It seemed in the en-
counter which his party had with the savages,
Alvin’s horse had received a fatal shot after
the others had turned about to seek the only
man who could guide their destinies in such
a frightful emergency. Horse and rider came
to the ground in a confused pile, and as no
one could stop to ascertain the extent of the
damage, it was natural to suppose tle worst.
But, the lad was uninjured, and as soon as
he could extricate himself and pick up his
favorite “Bunker Hill,” he started on in pur-
suit of his friends.

It was apparent that he had been fortunate
in making such good progress, for he had
scarcely left the traveled path, when the light
steps of pursuing Indians could be heard in
the direction whence he came.

“ Hurry along,” said Simpkins, giving him
a gentle push. “But dont make a bit 0’
noise, V’ll stop a minit and watch these fellers,
so’s to see what they’re up tew ”

The lad obeyed, and though the sounds of
his progress fell with fearful distinctness, the
Pawnees were so occupied in matters of their
own, as not to regard the unequivocal
sounds.

As they reached the place where the bleed-
ing horses were standing, and lying, the band
drew together, and held a rapid consultation
in their own tongue. It was evident enough
to them why the horses had been thus aban-
doned, and they felt certain the fugitives had
escaped their brethren in the rear, and were
still in the forest. But what direction they
had taken upon leaving the spot where the
Pawnees were now congregated, they could
not determine. It was too dark to discover
any trail so faint as that left by a party on
foot, even with Indian sagacity to assist them.
They bent to listen; but it was now too late
for that. Had they resorted to it earlier, it
was more than probable the unpracticed steps
of Alvin would have betrayed, not only him-
self, but the whole party.

The long acquaintance of Simpkins with
the Pawnees, and his partial knowledge of
their language, with such gestures as the
starlight enabled him to observe, satisfied
him of the import of their council. It seemed
an admitted fact that the fugitives had struck
off at nearly right angles to the course they
had been pursuing. The only question
seemed to be, in what direction bad they
gone?

One party, and it seemed the minority,
urged that they had taken to the mountains ;
while others argued, with apparently more
probability, that they had gone to the left,
and would make an effort to get by them,
and back to the settlement.

Opinions were divided, and finally each
party was allowed to take the course which
seemed to them most likely to bring them up
with their contemplated victims.
only, turned their faces mountainward, while
the balance spread through the forest in an

 

ll go bring along he boy.”

all on ye, and I

v

opposite direction.

 

Three, ©

  
|
|

 

soma

AN ENCOUNTER

The one-eyed scout waited till satisfied
that this was a permanant disposition of the
savage pursuers, and then he stole along like
a dark spirit behind the trio who really were

“on the trail of his new-made friends. It

would not have been likely to have added to
the peace of mind of those Pawnees had
A known what a foe was on their trail.

ure a half-hour had passed, they caught
the sounds of Alvin’s steps. The boy had
not quite overtaken his party, and, as he
tramped on through the forest, his heavy
boots gave back a crashing response at every
step. The Indians uttered satisfied grunts as
they heard these confirmations of their
theory. They paused, and seemed upon the
point of calling to their mistaken brethren ;
but selfish counsels finally prevailed, and
they hurried forward with long, loping,
noiseless steps.

But rapid as their movements might be,
they were followed by one quite as stealthy
as themselves, and whose purpose was quite
as deadly. Beside the white walked a four-
footed assistant whom the: Indians already
had larned to fear, and whose presence, had
it been known, might have caused a change
in their plans. Pinchers, having watched
the savages till their hostile intention became
evident to his brute sagacity, had sought the
side of his master, and now trotted along
Without noise, ready for any further service
which might be required of him.

Qf course the braves were not long in
overtaking the boy, and with him the entire
family, whose movements could be heard
quite distinctly. Unprotected as the fleeing
ones were, none of them had a suspicion that
their foes could steal upon them so silently.

The nearest Pawnee was within a few
yards of Alvin, and had raised his hatchet,
ready to bound forward upon the boy, when
Simpkins gently patted the head of faithful
Pinchers, and pointed toward the red-skin.
A spring followed, a rush over the ground,
and the would-be murderer was borne to the
a to by a force he could not comprehend.

ainly he struggled, while the hot blood

ushed from his torn and bleeding throat.

he strong mastiff shook him wildly hither
and thither, his terrible teeth opening fresh
arteries at every grasp.

The other savages would have fled to the
assistance of their comrade, but at once found
plenty of work to occupy their energies. One
of their number fell at a single blow from the
scout’s knife, and the survivor, seeing the fate
which had befallen his companions, turned
to flee. But, vain was the effort. Ata single
word from his master, the terrible Pinchers
bounded over the ground and dragged down
the fleeing Pawnee. Theblow he attempted
to aim was not given, the lightning move-
ments of the dog preventing, and the clutch
of jnis sharp teeth upon the red-skin’s throat
ehecked the yell with which he sought to
warn his brethren of their untimely fate.
There was a sharp struggle for a moment,
and then the Indian gasped forth his life,
while the sagacious beast sought his master

“18

Alvin, startled by the slight commution in
his rear, had turned to discover the cause.
He was a little nonplussed when he beheld,
faintly, the bloody work which was going on,
and stood spell-bound, till it was finished.

“Ye ain’t much hurt, be ye?” Sim Simp-
kins demanded, in his usual quiet manner.

“Not a single speck,” returned the boy.
“T didn’t know any thin’ was up till I hearn
the rumpus goin’ on,”

“No, nor ye wouldn’t, if it hadn’t been for
Pinchers. In jest halfa minit this here In-
jin would have hed yer skulp hung tew his
belt, and them other fellers’d a’ been skinnin’
the heads o’ the rest o’ yer folks.”

The lad rubbed his head vigorously, to
make sure that no such unhappy fate had be-
fallen it, and then they hastened on to join
the balance of the party,

“We thought we hearn suthin’ of a seuf-
fle,” said Luman, when the scout joined them
in his usual silent manner. “I s’pose it
warn’t nothin’ of no ’count.”

“No; only three red-skins follered ye up,
and pup here and I sent’em to pay off for
poor Billy Larkin !”

“Ye don’t mean that!’ exclaimed the
father, glancing about him as though to make
certain of his own safety. “It can’t be that
ye killed off three Injins as easy as that!”

“ Hain’t, eh ? S’posin’ you go back there
and look, or jest take a squint at that dog’s
juws. Mebby that “Il set yer doubts tew
rest.”

“‘ By gosh, stranger,” was the earnest re-
sponse. “ I reckon it’s mighty lucky for us that
we built up such a tarnal big fire, for we'd
all ha’ been killed if’t hadn’t been for you;
wouldn’t we, now ?”

A smile lighted up the single eye of the
stern hunter, as he lightly responded :

“That ain’t sart’?in. Ye'd a stood about
the same chance of gittin’ away that a mouse
would of gnawin’ through an oak while a
cat was giltin’ ready tew jump on him; or
ie as good a sight as a man would to
make his will arter a grizzly hed got his
paws ontew him.”

“ T hope you'll help us till we get to safety
again,” said the elder of the females, in a
voice tremulous with emotion. “Iam sure
we should be lost without you.”

“He has been so good to us thus far,that I
feel certain he will help us to the end,” added
Cora.

“Tshan’t leave ye,” was the assurance from
the lips of the scout. “But, it won’t dew to
waste time. We must git tew the mountains
before daylight if it kin be done.”

As the party set forward, led on by the
hunter himself while Pinchers protected the
rear, there was one manin the party who felt
differently toward the tall stranger than he
had dcne five minutes previous.

 

 
  

CHAPTER Y.
Mountainward.

SLowLy—it seemed to them very slowly—
and steadily the little party crawled on, Sim
Simpkins leading the way. Although he
selected the easiest route compatible with
direct progress, the way was very rough ;
especially so to our emigrants, who were
quite unaccustomed to picking their path
through forests in the darkness. So far as
silent progress was concerned, it was out of
the question. Unpracticed feet, armed with
heavy boots, made especially for hard service
in a land where cobblers were far from
plenty, could not tramp, slip, stumble and
plunge along without making a noise which
could be heard far and wide through the
forest.

To the practiced scout, whose delicacy of
tread could hardly have been equaled by a
cat, these sounds came with startling force.
It was in vain that he whispered injune-
‘ions to the party to step more lightly; he
30on satisfied himself that this would be an
impossibility, avd devoted all his efforts to
reaching the mountains with his charge;
praying that no quick-eared savage might
pass within hearing-distance of them.

For two long hours they held on their
course, and then the swells of land seemed to
take another form. Instead of a rise and
fall, like waves of the sea, they rose very
steadily, and fell but slightly. Although they
could not distinguish outlines and distances
in the darkness, it became evident to the
party, from the conformation of the land, that
they had reached the mountains.

After proceeding a little distance further
they came to a halt, and gathered about their
strange guide, who had also paused.

“Ts'pose we'll hey’ tew hold a council, now,
suthin arter the manner of the Injins. I ray-
ther think we've got out 0’ hearin’ and snell-
in’ o’ the critters, and what we want tew
decide on is which way tew go.”

“What way kin we go?” asked Leonard.

“ We kin dew one o’ three things,” was the
reply. ‘“ We kin keep on this side o’ the
mountains, and skirt along back suthin’ near
the way yecum’. Or we kin cross the moun-
tains, and go over to the settlements on th’
other side.’

“Which will be the easiest ?” asked Frank.

“Ye mean the easiest and the safest, 1 sup-
pose,” queried the dark hunter.

“Of course !” was the answer.

“T's most likely the Injins ’1] keep up
their kerryins on on this side of the moun-
tains, and ’tain’t ’tall likely they’ll cross over.
There’s no knowin’ how fur they may go
afore any of our folks can come and stop ’em.
‘We may git tew a place o’ safety by comin’
back this way, and we may not. Over’tother
side about forty miles away, we'll find human
bein’s settled, and thar’ I’ve no doubt it ’ll be
safer for us in the long run. It'll be a leetle
harder gettin’ thar’, cause we'll find some
purty rough travelin’ over the mountains,
especially for the wimmin folks.”

“Never fear for us,’ was the hearty re-

’

ONE-EYED SIM, THE HUNTER.

 

sponse of Cora.
as you shall see.”

“Tve no manner o’ doubt o’ that. But it
ain’t for me tew say which way ye shall go.
Jest settle that among yerselves, and I'll dew
my best tew git ye away from the red-skins.”

“Tt don’t make much odds to us which
way we go,’ returned Luman. ‘“ Wherever
we stop we've got tew go to work for suthin’
tew eat and wear, for we hain’t any thing now.
You'd better go ahead the way ye think best,
and we'll follow ye. You know better’n
we.

“ve told ye what I think,” the hunter
replied, “and now I want ye to say what
shall be done ; and say quick, for we hain’t a
minit to loose.”

“T think we’d better go back this way, and
give warning and help to those who are most
exposed to an attack from the Indians,” said
Frank. “ We may be able to collect a bod
strong enough to oppose them—to chook
thein, in fact.”

“We ain’t the right sort of a gang to dew
that,” replied the hunter. “ Ye see the
Injins hed got beyond ye when ye undertook
tew cut off on a straight line. hat sort of
a chance would ye hey’ in a straight race 0’
twenty miles, on. foot, with these wimmin
folks along ?”

“T think I should be inclined to try it,”
was the confident rejoinder.

“Jest as ye say. Go which way ye think
best, and Pll dew my best for ye. Only make
up yer minds quick.”

The party conferred together for a short
time, and then they turned again to Simp-
kins.

“We've concluded we'll try her on this
side o’ the hills,” said Mr. Leonard. “ Mebby
we'll miss it, but it seems tew bad to let the
Injins right ontew them poor folks what
don’t know any thing about it.”

“ All right, then.”

Thus saying, the tall hunter glided on in
advance of the party, and shaped a new
course, leading alongside the mountain range.
But his very manner, although he spoke no
word, showed that he was mistrustful of dan-
ger. . Keeping his eye and ears open he urged
on their way, climbing over such hills as
would require too great a diviation, and
selecting the most open paths through the
extensive thickets which lined the sides of
the mountains. There were rocks, chasms
and ravines in their path, but he guided them
allin the ready manner which only long ex-
perience can give, and conducted the party
steadily onward.

Presently an almost imperceptible rustling

“ We are brave and strong,

was heard, and the moment after a dark form.

glided past those in the rear, and sought the
side of Simpkins, All recognized it at once
as the sagacious Pinchers, and a general
feeling of alarm prevailed at his appearance.

“D’ye think the Injins are arter us?” de-
manded Luman, with a hesitating voice.

“We'll see what the dorg says,” returned
ae er scout. “ Purp, is the Injins arter
us?

The beast cast a quick glance around, but

    
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
   
 
    
   
   
   
    
  
 
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
 
   

i eee

    
ia i natal a

ANOTHER BRUSH,

made no indication to the rear. Finally he
pointed his muzzle to the front, and after
taking a long sniff, uttered a low whine.

“Ts it red-skins,” his master demanded.

A growl seemed to answer, as plainly as
brute signs could, in the affirmative. But
there was no change upon the features of
Simpkins. ;

“Ye see this dorg says thar’s Injins akead
of us,” he said. “tf suppose ye don’t think
the brute ’d lie ; if ye knew him as well as I
dew ye’d know he wouldn't. I suppose ye
don’t any of ye want to run ontew Injins
the first dive, for they might not be civil tew
a feller. So, if ye’ll stay here a bit I'll go on
ahead and see what’s took the dorg so.” 3

No one offered any objections, and in com-
pany with his faithful mastiff, the scout set
off. He was certain that foes were in ad-
vance, and was fearful that the party would
be cut off if they attempted to proceed
further in this direction. His own sense of
safety had pointed to an immediate crossing
of the mountains, which course he believed
would have insured the safety of the party.
But as such a course would have been more
fatiguing, he was content that they choose
their own route. ,

Now, however, it was his intention, should
the savages be found in force ahead of them,
to take the party by the most direct route
away from the surrounding danger.

Following the lead of Pinchers, to whose
agacity the hunter trusted quite as much as
to his own skill, he traveled for some time.
Indeed, he was beginning to fancy that the
danger, if any there was, was so far away as
to be of very little account. But, while that
thought was running through his head, the
dog, which was slightly in advance, drew

ack, and looking up into his master’s face
uttered a low whine, as though of caution. |

Stopping in his tracks, Simpkins bent his
ear to the ground, and a moment's listening
convinced him that he was much nearer the
Indians than he had anticipated. He could
hear the cautious movements of some being,
Which long experience in such matters as-
sured him was none other than a savage. He
s00n gathered that the steps were approach-
Ing the place where he crouched, and that
the one whose movements he had first heard
Was not alone.

_His first impulse was to pause and note the
direction they took, and endeavor to learn
their motive ; but second thought, the recol-
lection of the almost helpless party who
night be exposed to unknown danger by his

protracted absence, caused him to forego that

Intention, and hasten back to his charge.

Turning, he crawled away very stealthily,
and when a sufficient distance lad been
gained to render his movements safe, he
started back at as rapid a pace as was con-
sistent with ordinary caution. Pinchers
trotted along beside him, and his strange
actions served to excite the hunter to greater
speed.

‘“ What's up is more’n I kin tell,” he mus-
ed, feeling the interior of his rifle-pan, to
make sure that the priming was in order.

 

AND A CAPTIVE. 17

“Tf we hadn’t just come from thar’ I’d swear
the dorg smelt Injins that way. I dew be-
lieve he does, though why he didn’t scent ’em
afore I can’t say. Gosh, all fire-locks! If
they sheuld spile my work, arter all.”

He gave less heed now to cautiousness,
and trotted forward, regardless of the rotten
twigs which cracked beneath his tread.

Suddenly a yell rung over the still forest.
Too often had Sim heard that dreadful ery
to doubt its meaning. Even at that distance
the wild whoop of the Pawnees was appail-
ing, long as he had been accustomed to it.
What, then, must it be to those who had
never heard it before that night ?

The first fierce yell was followed by shots
and shouts which the stern hunter knew
were not all Indian, and the thought that hig
fellow-men were making a brave defense,
served to dispel half his anxiety. Still he
flew rather than ran through the forest, and
in a very short time had reached the vicinity,
though fully half a mile away at the com-
mencement of the conflict. .

Yet, as short as had been the time, all
sounds, had ceased, and it was evident that
one party or the other remained masters of
the field. Which it might be, he could not
tell. There were no sounds of any struggling,
no fugitives flying from the scene. A cold
chill begun to settle upon the hunter’s heart.

“T see how it is)’ he thought. “ The In-
jins beat, as 0’ course they would, and now
they’re takin’ the hair o’ their victims! It’s
too bad ; but maybe they ain’t all flaxed out,
and I may dew su’thin’ yet!”

He crept up toward the spot, dreading the
revelation which could not be avoided. He
was quite near the place when a confused
moving seemed taking place, and in a few
moments three or four forms appeared, push-
ing through the shrubbery. They were not
Indians, he was soon convinced, and the
joyful fact that they were his friends and
allies soon became apparent.

Rising up carefully, and speaking as he
did so, in order that some excited one might
not send a shot toward him in the darkness,
he confronted the party.

“What's the news?” he asked. “ What
was tle firin’ ?”

‘A cussed lot of Injins,” returned Leonard,
who was in advance. ‘“ We give’em a drub-
bin’ out, though. But, blast ’em, they’ve
took off Cora, and hit Frank a knock over
the head.”

“Tain’t hurt a bit,” said Frank, who was
quite wild from the force of the blow he had
received. “ But I tell you, I must have that
girl back—I'm going after her alone, if none
of you will go with me,”

“Wait, and be cool, youngster,” returned
the old scout, with the same calmness which
ever characterized him. ‘“ We must git
away from here, or the place will be swarm-
ing with Injins, in a minute. Come, right

up the side of the mountain is the best way

tew purseed.”
But eed daughter !” exclaimed Mrs. Leon-
ard. “ What will become of her?”
“Trast her to God, for a short time,” was

 
 

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18 ONE-EYED SIM,

the reply, whick had 4 strange sound as it fell
from those lips. ‘“ We must look out for our-
sclyes, and whe. that is done we'll give our
attention to the gal.”

“Ym afraid I never shall see my child
again!” was the desponding rejoinder.

“You mustn’t be afeard of any sech
thing,” was the response of the scout. “ You
mustn’t think of that at all! Wait till we
find a place where the red-skins can’t git at
the rest of ye so easy, and then, if it’s a pos-
sible thing for mortal men tew git yer darter
away from the red-skins she shall come.”

“Then do let us hasten!” pleaded the
agonized mother.

As they climbed the sloping side of the
mountain, the hunter gatherd from the sor-
rowing father the particulars of the daugh-
ter’s capture.

It seemed that the party waited in silence
for the return of their absent guide, keeping
their rifles in hand, since they were fully cog-
nizant of the danger which might threaten
them at any moment. Hearing movements
in the forest near by, they naturally supposed
Sim to have returned, and fancied that he
might be unable to discover their exact
whereabouts in the darkness. The slight
signal which they ventured to give caused a
cessation of the sounds, and too late they
begun to realize that instead of signaling
their absent guide, they had drawn the at-
tention of a passing band of Pawnees.

Holding their rifles ready, the party waited
the onset they expected. They were not
disappointed. With a rush and a yell some-
thing more than half a dozen of the painted
red-skins had rushed in, but two of them met
their fate from a rapid volley which the
whites gave when the forms of their foes be-
came visible. The salute from the rifles
being followed up by a discharge of pistols,
and the three whites maintaining a bold
front, their numbers seemed magnified to
the Pawnees, who fled, leaving their dead
behind.

On looking about to congratulate them-
selves, they found that Frank had been
partially stunned by a blow from some blunt
weapon, and, saddest chance of all! that the
gentle Cora had utterly disappeared. To
their unpracticed senses it was evident that
she had been carried off bodily by the savages,
and not knowing in what manner to proceed,
they set out, hoping to meet Simpkins.

In this we have seen them gratified.

 

CHAPTER VI.
The Mission.

Tue party pushed up the side of the moun-
tain, which was not very abrupt, and as they
proceeded the evidences of finding such a
stronghold as Simpkins sought became every
moment more apparent Large masses of

rock appeared upon all sides, and the way
was obst: 1cted by fallen trees and ravines.

Pausing at length, the guide sought out a
place where he fancied no roving band of

>

 

THE HUNTER.

savages would penetrate, and which it seem-
ed probable that one or two determined men
could hold against quite a body of foes.

“There,” he said, leading them to the
place, and stationing the party ; “ I want you,
old man and boy, tew stay here, and take
keer o’ yourselves, while me and this other
feller goes off tew bring back the gal. Keep
yer eye out fer red-skins, and don’t waste a
karnil of-powder, acause its precious stuff.
You're tew keep out o’ sight, and if ye see
any Injins let’em go by, if they’ll dew it.”

“T fancy us two don’t stand much of a
chance for getting her away, if we find where
she is,” said Frank, rather impatiently.

“Can’t tell nothin’ about that,” returned
Sim. “ Here’s Pinchers, he’s more nor two
purty good men, and we may dew the thing
right up. But, it’s quite as likely no human
bein’ kin help the poor gal.”

“T’m afraid we’ve waited too long,” said
Frank, as they begun to descend the moun-
tain-side.

““We couldn’t dew any thing till mornin’,
so’s tew git a little light. But it’s comin’
now, and we won’t lose any more time.”

They repaired at once to the scene of con-
flict, and were not surprised to find the bodies
of the fallen Indians removed.

“They come back, with more force, tew
give yea lickin’,” said Simpkins. “ Butas ye
wan't here they concluded ’twar best tew
pick up them what hed got knocked over,
an’ make their way off. Here, Pinchers!”

The dog readily responded, and his mas-
ter continued:

“ Here, pup, we want tew find these red-
skins. Now be sure you don’t lose ’em.”

The intelligent animal snuffed around for
a moment, and then set off at full speed. He
slackeued his pace on finding that his master
and companion wished to follow, and, to-
gether, the three journeyed through the
woods, Pinchers smelling out the trail, and
the men following at their leisure.

“T tell yew it saves a deal o’ searchin’
and peekin’ round tew hev’ sech a pup as
that,” remarked Simpkins with commendable
pride. “I tell ye I wouldn’t take that feller’s
weight in gold for him—that’s what I
wouldn’t. ’T would be a mighty poor specula-
tion. It’s very sartain I never’d a tramped
these woods so long as I have if it badn’t
been for that same pup. But, we'll hey’ tew
be keerful now; I karkelate we're a gittin’
purty near the Injins. Tl tell ye a litle
suthin’ about that pup some day, if ye want
tew hear it.”

Frank signified his pleasure to listen at any
convenient time, and then the conversation
was dropped. During the few minutes
which had elapsed since they lad left the
place of the fight, they had been tending al-
yaost due west. The direction had been such
as to take them upon quite level ground,
where the savages would be comparatively
uncovered, and could be espied at consider-
able distance. But, this fact had aboutequal
drawbacks, since they could not approach a
body of savages in security, if they were
once discovered after daybreak.

 

 
tics aia a i

 

| Soon Sim paused, and patted his rifle, as
he pointed in advance of them.

“D'ye see the critter?” he demanded.
| “We're goin’ tew find some of ’em purty
soon; no knowin’ whether it’s the ones we
want or not.”

/ Frank strained his eye through the gloom
: of dawn, but could distinguish nothing with
certainty. He replied briefly that he could
8ee nothing answering in appearance to an
Indian.
| “Ye won’tsee him any more,” returned
| the scout, “He’s gone behind some bushes.
If I ain’t mistaken his fellers are over there
! somewheres. We'll look and see what's to
} be found. Tread as light as you kin.”
! Frank followed in the footsteps of his
leader, and thus the twain approached the
place indicated. It was a rank growth of
! bushes, as they found upon gaining it, which
extended some distance along the forest,
crossing the course they had been pursuing,
at right‘angles. Pinchers, too, had fallen
back beside his master, asif to indicate that
his part was performed in regard to the trail.
It was something of a task to penetrate the
hedge-like bushes, and before the old hunter
i had reached the opposite side he paused, and,
| holding the bushes slightly apart with his
left hand, beckoned to his companion with a
gesture of caution. The other pushed care-
j fully forward and peered through the open-
ing thus made. The sight which met his
eyes, though far from being of a pleasant na-
ture, was still gratifying, to a certain degree,
and in a peculiar manner. G
| Seated around a small fire, and. evidently
| engaged in a council, were about twenty In-
| dians, all men of mark, fearfully painted and
| plumed. They were gravely discussing some
question, in which they seemed much in-
terested, and in regard to which there seemed
a diversity of opinion. Straying about at
short distances, listening to the counsels of
| their superiors, and guarding a_ solitary
/ prisoner, the gentle Cora Leonard, were four
or five more, evidently debarred by youth
and inexperience from taking part in the
counsels. The maiden seemed sad and
Weary; whether the expression upon her
face indicated hoplessness or despair, they
| Could not determine. :
i Frank gazed at the spectacle a full minute,
| drawing his breath through closely-shut teeth.
and grasping his ritle with firm hands. Then
he turned to Simpkins, and asked :
| “What are you going to do ?”
} “Can you find yer way back to where yer
i folks was lefi ?” the hunter demanded.
. “T am very sure | can.”

 

“Then go ahead, and tell her father and
brother what’s a-goin’ on. 'They’re holdin’
a council over her, and my idee is that they'll
; try to kill her some way. If there aiu’t any
Znjins hangin’ round there, have her ma’r hid
away soner’s that’, and the rest of ye hurry

k here as fast as ye can come.’ I guess

” a gt “e

ell hev’ time enuff, and if ye don’t, pup and

‘Il try and take keer of em till ye come.
Now don't lose any time, nor the way,
either.” a

*
.

ta

 

   

 

THE INDIANS IN COUNCIL.

 

19

Frank promisedto be as expeditious as
possible, and had no doubt of being success-
ful. He realized very well that two to
twenty-five was rather too great odds for
even the valor of Sim Simpkins. He took
the general direction, and then crawled forth,
making his way with all possible caution un-
til out of reach of the savages. Then he
started forward at a rapid pace and was
very soon lost to the sight of his companion
in the bushes. >

Sim Simpkins was left alone almost in the
midst of his foes, Calling his dog beside
him by a jesture, and closing the bushes all
about them, he waited with patience the re-
turn of his messenger, watching closely the
proceedings of the Indians, meantime.

With them the council was now taking
the form of a dispute rather than that
legitimately belonging to it, and high words
passed with pienghat flow from one to the
other. The unseen listener endeavored to
gather enough of the dispute to judge of its
nature, but in this he was unsuccessful, all
being in the Indian tongue, with so many
Pawnecisms that he found it impossible to
to make out the precisesubject. It might or
might not relate to the maiden ; he thought
the latter,

At length one, more furious than his fel-
lows, rose to his feet, and, brandishing his
hatchet, wrathfully, in front of another brave,
the challange, if such it was, was promptly
accepted, and the two prepared for a de-
cisive contest. Several preparatory blows
were given and parried, before the others
could collect themselves to stop the conflict.

Each and every one of the warriors hur-
ried to his feet, and sprung this way and that
in the futile endeaver to seperate the two
determined antagonists. This was not done
till a third, a tall, powerful fellow, stepped
between, and holding the combatants apart
with main force, addressed them in no
measured terms, if gestures and gutterals be
indicative of forcible language.

Those measures not proving effective, as-
sistance was called and the belligerants de-
prived of their weapons, after which they
were allowed to go at large, which they did
with arather chopfallen air. The council was
then resumed, but not with the candid
earnestness which usually distinguished
such gatherings upon the part of the In-
dians. It soon terminated in an angry bolt,
and as is usually the case, the fiercest party
bore sway.

It was now quite light, and Simpkins, from
his uncomfortable covert, begun to look for
the return of his expected allies. He hoped
they would come, and that very soon; for, in
the present excited state of the Indians, it
was uncertain what their next move would
be.

It soon became evident what the intentions
of the Pawnees were. A stout sapling near
by was fixed upon asa stake, and to that the
prisoner was bound. Then a short pause
was made, after which a portion of the gang
scattered themselves about to gather brush
wood and faggots, ;
+
|
{|
+
{|

 

 

 

Hb

20 ONE-EYED SIM,

The younger party, mere boys, who had
neyer seen a war-path before, amused them-
selves by tormenting the helpless victim, in
allimaginuble ways. Arrows were drawn
to the head and aimed full at her, after
which the bow was gradually rleaxed.
Hatchets were hurled, striking the sapling
above her head; or, perchance, only the mo-
tions would be made, the would-be warriors
heartily enjoying any shrinking upon the
part of the maiden.

Frequently the stern hunter was tempted
to risk all on a sudden dash, with only his
sagacious canine friend to back him against
more than a score of enemies, and as often
he restrained himself, casting back anxious
glances in the direction whence his expected
help was to come.

“The brutes!” he mused, grinding his
teeth together hard, “Tl pay ’em for all this
usin’ a poor gal, and ’speshilly one as good’s
this yere. Curse ’em, I say! How I
wish’t them folks would make their appear-
ance !”

But they did not come. One long minute
after another rolled away, minutes freighted
with importance, and no signs of the re-
quired assistance. If it came not soon it
would be too late! The warriors had collect-
ed a large pile of brushwood, and only hesi-
tated to apply the brand that they might en-
joy the too obvious sufferings of their pris-
oner.

The circle was formed, and the horrid
orgies commenced, Still, for a time, the
fatal brand was not applied. It was satis-
faction enough for the brutal natures of the
Pawnees to witness the sufferings of their
victim in anticipation of the dreadful fate
which seemed in store for her. Once or twice
she cast her eyes around, as though in hope
that friends might be near to attempt her
rescue. But she saw no one, and as reason
told her how vain was any such hope, she
bowed her head and groaned in bitterness of
heart.

Finally the critical moment seemed at
hand. A savage raised a blazing brand from
the remains of their late council-fire, and
plunged it into the brushwood. The move-
ment destroyed the flame, but a little blow-
ing and coaxing soon revived it, and a warm
glow spread upward and around,

At the same moment, when Simpkins was
nerving his heart to brave the terrible odds
against him, he descried a moving form
away through the forest; then another, and
yet another! Joy! The promised needed
assistance was now at hand! It would still
be in time, as they were coming rapidly.

The only thing to be feared was that the
Indians would discover the new-comers, and
that was ths very thing which did happen.
A watchful brave, whose attention was not
directed entirely to the fiery spectacle before
them, saw the advancing forms, and quickly
communicated the news to his brethren. A
rush was at once made to meet them, the
Indians penetrating the bushy thicket and
crouching close, in order to prepare an am-
bush for their approaching foes.

 

THE HUNTER.

One of the number was so unfortunate as
to enter the bushes exactly where Sim and
his dog were crouching. But he made no
alarm. In an instant the sharp teeth of
Pinchers were fastened in his neck, and he
sunk to the ground, to struggle for a moment
and then die. The others gained the cover
in safety, and in a few moments not a savage
was to be seen.

As he rapidly considered the position in
which he was placed, even the stern hunter,
who had never found himself in a painful
dilemma, felt almost uncertain what course
to pursue. A man less experienced and dar-
ing, or less cooland wary,would not only have
been utterly lost, but every one he attempted
to save would have shared the same fate. In
that case, it is hardly necessary to say that
this truthful narrative would never have been
written.

The single-eyed hunter felt that the great
crisis of his life had come, and he nerved
himself to meet it.

CHAPTER VIL.
The Crisis.

His friends were still far beyond rifle-shot,
and as he was satisfied that the Indians would
not fire upon them till they were quite near,
he had still time enough for any quiet scheme
which would occupy but a moment in the
execution, and could be accomplished with-
out fail.

The flames were still burning rather slowly,
and Cora was quite uninjured. To extricate
her from the deadly peril surrounding her,
and warn his allies of the danger in store for
them, all in the presence of a quarter of a
hundred bloodthirsty foes, was the slight
task which devolved upon his single arm.

It was no wonder that in the grand peril
of the moment Sim Simpkins forgot self,
danger, every thing save the work he had on
hand, The thought that he might be killed
never entered his head. Death at that time
would have had no terrors for him, could his
object but have been accomplished.

ithin one moment after the last savage
had entered the thicket, Simpkins sprung
from it, knife in hand. He had noticed the
exact manner in which the maiden had been
bound to the tree, and knew exactly how the
three cuts which it would require tv liberate
her must be given.

Six or seven bounds carried him to the
spot, and in just one second of time the
thongs were loosened. His rifle had pre-
viously been placed upon his back, and drop-
ping his knife beside the fire, the hunter’s
strong arms were thrown about the maiden,
aud she was dragged forth.

Grasping her more firmly, the athletic
scout sprung away, and sought the shelter of
a large tree. There he placed his burden
upon the ground, and directed her in which
direction to run, with all speed. The poor
maiden, half insensible from fear and tortur
had giveu up all hopes of succor, an

one

eS ale le Mie
 

a

THE PURSUIT.

prepared herself for death, the cruel death
which seemed unavoidable. But now, as she
realized that assistance had really come, her
energies returned, and sbe obeyed the be-
hest of her deliverer with all possible expe-
dition. :

So general had been the attention of the
savages to those who were approaching, that
but a single Pawnee witnessed any part of
the bold act, and he but saw the form of the
hunter as he dashed away. Quickly calling
upon two of his companions, the three
sprung up, and started in pursuit of the dar-
ing man, thinking he must be speedily over-
taken, and both the whites dispatched with-
out any alarm) to the others, who were com-
ing down in front. As the sequel proved,
they were most sadly mistaken. Sim Simp-
king had gained too much in his complicated
scheme to be easily thwarted now.

No sooner did he glide behind the tree
than his rifle was unslung, and the next mo-
ment its sharp voice spoke the death-note of
one pursuer. Without pausing to note the
result of his shot, or the course which might
be taken by his foes, Sim sprung rapidly
away, being but a few paces behin the fly-
ing maiden at the outset, ‘and speedily gain-
i side. :

he Indians are proverbially poor shots at
& moving mark, however good they may be
when firing from asteady aim at a stationary
Object. Of this peculiarity the scout had
taken advantage, and though the exposure
of himself and companion would seem
suicidal to one unacquainted with the pe-
Culiar traits of the red-men, he had no fears
of the few bullets which went whistling by
them. True, a lucky chance was among the
Possibilities, but not probable. |

Meantime his assistants, having heard the
shots, were coming on at redoubled speed.
To attract their attention, and keep them
from rushing upon certain destruction, he
gave a loud call, which they did not. fail to
hear. Having attracted their notice, he
quickly warned them, by voice and sign, of
the danger before them, and their direction
Was at once changed. ek,

The Pawnees were far from realizing the
aspect affairs were taking; and finding that
their trap was discovered, they rushed forth,
yelling wildly, and firing at any white they
saw.

“Save your powder till they git closer,”
shouted Lownie. seeing that some of his
allies were upon the point of firing. ‘ Hold
yer firé, and I'll come tew ye.”

They heeded the injunction, and with rifles
presented, waited calmly for the coming of
their foes, and those they had come to assist.
The moral effect of this movement upon the
Savages wus decided. Those three dark bar-
rels, frowning down upon them, proved too
much. Not one of the dozen who had
started in that direction felt willing to incur
certain death; and, while a portion of the
force took to trees, and commenced reload-
ing their weapons, the others set off toward

m Simpkins and his charge.

The hunter had found no time to reload

29 2

 

his rifle, but had in_ his belt a pair of unfail-
ing pistols, on which he depended for aid
should a critical moment come. Thus far
he had steadily pursued his way, leading
Cora by the hand, and rapidly pressing in
the direction of her father aad his com-
panions.

Finding that the Indians were likely to
cut him off before he could make the de
sired junction, the ready hunter gave a glance
around, and sung out, to Frank’s party :

“Make fur that big cottonwood, yender,
quick as ye kin go! Then face about !”

Though the command was quickly given,
it was perfectly intelligible, and the three
men hastened to obey. The Pawnee war-
roirs comprehended the moyement, and en-
deavored to turn it into a panic by rushing
wildly after the white men, Failing in this,
they were quickly brought up again when
the three weapons, which they feared, were
brought to bear upon them. Again they took
to cover, eyeing their bold foes with supreme
hatred, yet unable to punish them for their
temerity.

Simpkins had not lost one moment’s time,
but changed his direction at the instant his
confederates begun to retreat. The result
was that their force was united, and Cora
was placed behind a tree just in the rear of
her defenders, eo

“When ye see a piece of Injin flesh hig
enough to hit, blaze away at it, some of ye,’
said the master-spirit, “but don’t all fire at
once, Load up as fast as ye empty yer
guns.” 5. a

He rammed home his own t
and turned his piece to prime
the Indians had generally fi
ing of their weapons. One, howe
more dilatory than his fellows, was
orawing his ramrod. In doing so he exposed
his head.

Instantly the terrible rifle of Simpkins
leaped into the air, and its tongue of flame —
and voice of lead called for the brave’s life,
As he fell, another, who was quite near,
thinking, perhaps, to rush upon their foe now
that his weapon was empty, stepped from be-
hind histree. As he did so, Alvin fired, and
the savage dropped, with a bullet through
his side. ;

“That's old Bunker Hill, yew fool yew !”
shouted the elated young marksman.

“ Ye'r a good boy ; load her up and. give
’em ag’in!” said Sim, as he rammed his own
bullet down. :

The boy proceeded to recharge his weap-
on, but in doing so exposed hisarm. An In-
dian instantly fired, and if Alvin had not for-
tunately pushed his elbow still further out,
so as to allow the ball passage between that
and the tree, his fighting propensities would
have been checked for that day.

“ Oh, fire away, dod rot ye!” he muttered,
regarding the shreds of his frock which
showed where the ball had passed. “ Ye
feel drefful ’cause ye couldn’t hey’ the most
of yer own way, don’t ye? But, lookou’‘ fer
yerselves, and I'll see tew Alvin.”

A little reflection satisfied the hunter ‘hat

   
  

‘

 

 
 

 

 

Sate ONE-EYED SIM,

their present position was not the most desir-
able possible, and after looking about him for
a few moments he spoke to Frank, who was
next him: —

“You and Cora,” he said, in tones just
above a whisper, “ must sreep away, and git
back to that thick clump of trees yonder.
Ye see it, I s’pose.”

Frank replied that he did.

“Then go—and go as keerful as ye kin.
The rest of ye keep yer eyes out tor any
Injin what shows his head, and put a ball
through it at the first sight. Soon’s you git
shar’ plant yerself, and wait for us.”

The last injunction had been given to
Frank, as he was crawling stealthily away.
The young man reached the side of Cora,
and informed her of the contemplated move-
ment. They proceeded together toward the
spot, being as careful as possible not to attract
the notice of the savages.

They were imminently successful, and
reached the covert indicated in safety. No
sooner had they disappeared from the eyes
of their anxious friends than Simpkins begun
to communicate his plan to Alvin and his
father. ag

“We must go like blazes,” he said, “ when
we start. One of ye eo kinder zig-zag, purty
near straight there. ‘I’other one run out tew
that big cottonwood, and then bring up
around behind the trees we're aimin’ at. TIL
take keer o’ myself. Run like the old boy,
and I'll resk the Injins hittin’ ye, ef they fire.
Soon’s ye git thar’ take yer rifles, and pick
out an Injin; don’t shoot a shot at random.
Then, if they come on, give ’em yer pistils,
and go intew ’em with the buts of yer guns.
Pll resk but what we'll flax ’em out.”

As the word was given they set forth, each
running at the top of hisspeed. The Indians
saw the movement, and sprung from their

  
 

_ concealment to follow, not doubting but that

their foes were making a final flight. In this,
as in other matters, they were fatally de-
ceived.

Sim Simpkins, followed closely by his faith-
ful canine friend, sped over the ground with
fearful strides, and gained the covert where
Frank had preceded him, some moments in
advance of his two confederates. The latter,
indeed, were being hard pressed by their
fleeter pursuers, and it is just possible that
one or both of them might have been over-
taken, but for the two quick reports which
burst from the cover as they neared it, and laid
two of the nearest pursuers upon the ground.

The others paused at this greeting, which
they might have expected, and their moment-

ary indecision allowed the father and son to

gain a place of safety. But the Pawnees
waited no longer. With a wild yell, firin
their pieces at random, the savages charge
full upon the retreat.

“ Give ’em yer pistols !” shouted Simpkins,
shooting down an Indian as he attempted to
press between two trees, at the same time
qa the word to impatient Pinchers, who

oined in the fray with a will, “The devils’

mean fight this time !”
The whites were well supplied with fire-

 

THE HUNTER.

arms for those anti-revolyer days, Sim,
Frank and Mr. Leonard each had a pair of
pistols, while Alvin had a single antiquated
weapon, upon which and Bunker Hill he
prided himself, conjointly.

For a moment there was a sharp clashing
of weapons, and a rapid firing on both sides.
Indeed, a terrible hand-to-hand fight seemed
unavoidable. Had the Indians pressed the
matter, it is quite probable that the white
men would have found themselves numeri-
cally deficient, notwithstanding the superi-
ority of their arms. But the terrible lesson
they had received, and the fall of more than a
third of their number, had taught the Indians
to be wary, and finding that their foes had
decided to flee no further, they resolved to
abandon the contest. No doubt they must
encounter friends in the forest, and with the
aid of numbers sufficient to utterly crush the
whites, they would avenge all past misfor-
tunes.

Acting upon this principle, the survivors
gradually withdrew, leaving their dead and
wounded as they had fallen. At first the
whites could hardly realize their good-for-
tune. Simpkins, as usual, was the first to
speak.

“Thar’ they go, confound the cusses!” he
exclaimed springing from his shelter.. “Come
on, one of ye; let’s chase ’em a little ways.”

Alvin was the first to respond, and spring-
ing out at the side of his leader, the twain
pushed on after the fleeing savages. Toand
through the council-camp they sped, and
here Simpkins paused.

“ We needn't go any further, boy,” he said.
“We can’t overtake ’em, and’ll only waste
our breath for nothin’. Load up your gun,
and here’s some things we may need.”

After they had reloaded, a hasty survey
of the camp was taken. A large quantity of
dried venison, which some savages had been
thoughtful enough to provide, was secured,
as were two axes, which had evidently been
taken from some pillaged settler’s dwelling.

“We'll take these along,” he said; “ they
may serve us a good turn. Sech things’ are
allus handy, espeshilly when thar’s Injins
*round.”

They selected such guns as seemed desir-
able, a quantity of ammunition, and Simp-
kins’ knife, which lay beside the still-blazing
fire. This done, they hastened to rejoin
their comrades.

The party was in good spirits, overjoyed
and thankful at the good-fortune which had
brought them all thus safely through such
an ordeal.

“Tm sure we never can thank you enough
—never hope to repay you, sir, for such bene-
fits,” said Cora, warmly. ‘‘ Every hour in-
creases our debt of gratitude, and lessens our
means of payment.”

“JT ain’t no more deservin’ than the rest,”
returned Simpkins, coolly as usual. “T
couldn’t have done any thing without them,
and maybe they wouldn’t dew so well if
*twan’t for me and Pinchers. But, never
mind that. We must go now, and see tew
yer mother.”

 

 
eo ePre

a SS

 

WHAT MRS. LEONARD SAW AND HEARD. 3

“ Yis, I s’pose the old woman’ll feel a leetle
oneasy, if the Injins don’t come acrost her,”
remarked her husband. “It seemed hard
tew leave her alone, but we couldn’t dew
any better, so’t had to be.”

A line of match was at once taken up, and
the party proceeded toward the retreat in
the mountains, where they had left the moth-
er. Each of them felt anyious in her behalf,
now that the terrible ordeal had been passed
with them, and hastened on as fast as pos-
sible.

CHAPTER VIII.
The Mountain Stronghold.

Tur sweat poured from the brows of the
men, and Cora was weak and tired as they
ascended the mountain-side. Now that day-
light revealed the natural roughness of the

lace, it became more than ever a wonder to
his companions how their guide had been en-
abled to conduct them so readily and easily
through the labyrinth in the darkness ef
night. In many places rocks were piled to
gether in huge masses, while around and be-
tween them ran ravines and fallen trees.
And yet the stranger trod them now with
entire ease, and his companions had but to
follow his lead to insure safety.

“Tts all in bein’ used to the thing,” he re-
marked, in reply to some observation of his
companions. ‘“ Yew could tread the streets
ina big city whar’ I couldn’t walk five min-
utes an’ not git lost; but here in the woods
I could find the way right ahead whar’ you’d
Ke runnin’ round and round, makin’ nothin’
out.

As they approached the place of rendez-
vous, more than one anxious glance was cast
in the direction of rocky fastnesses, fearful
lest some lurking savages might be awaiting
their coming.

But finally they drew near the rocky re-
treat, and saw that all continued silent. Hope
rose in their bosoms. There were no traces
of Indians, and as Mrs. Leonard had been
cautioned to keep very close till their return,
it was hardly probable that she would espy
them till the place was reached.

“Oh, I hope no harm has come to my dear
mother,” said Cora, as they drew near the
spot; “I should think my own safety all too
dearly purchased, if she were to suffer.”

As they reached the spot, Luman Leonard,
in his anxiety, forgot all caution, and leaping
among the rocks, he called out:

“Maria! Maria! Be ye here, anywhere?
We've come—we're all right. Yer gal’s
safe.”

A pale, frightened figure rose up before
them, and in terrified accents exclaimed :

“Hush, Luman, for heaven’s sake! The
Indians are all about us.” '

The buoyancy of every heart was checked
in a moment, and with pallid features they
gathered close beneath the rocky breast-
works, to learn what had transpired during
their absence. Only Simpkins and his faith-

 

ful mastiff remained upon guard, where they
could survey the forest arotind.

“What is it about the Indians?” Frank
asked, when the party had disposed them-
selves in a listening attitude.

“T'll tell you all I know; that is, what I
have seen,” replied the still trembling wo-

man. “Soon after you left, I raised my head :
carefully above the rocks, to see what sort! ©

of a place we were in. It was just light
enough so tha. £ could see, and not full day-
light. Almost the first thing that met m
eyes was some one standing upon a ek
just yonder. I saw at once that it was an
ndian, and that he seemed looking for some-
thing. I did not wait to see if there were
any more, but settled back very speedily, and
lay there trembling for some time, not daring
to look up, lest I should encounter a s@vage.
“ But time passed on, and I begun téthink
I might have been mistaken, after all; or,
that the Indian had gone his ok I listened
as closely as I could, and not hearing any
movements, I gradually raised my head
again. I looked where I had seen the say-
age standing, but he was gone. This gave
me courage, and I looked all about, getting
almost frightened at the wildness of the
place, but seeing nothing of any living thing.
“Then I was satisfied that I had imagined
all the evil I had seen, in the form of an In-
dian, and felt almost disposed to laugh at
myself. I even rose to my feet and looked
all round, to satisfy myself that I had been
utterly mistaken. Then I sat down, with a
relieved heart, to wait for your coming.
“Then I heard sounds, and knew there
could be no mistake about them. There were
persons talking, and at first I thought you
had come back. But I listened, for 1 wanted
to be sure. I knew, very soon, that it was
Indians, for I could not understand a word,
and their language sounded so strange. cod

would have looked out, but I did not dareto.

I expected every instant they would come
upon me, and carry me off or killme. But
none of them seemed to come near me, and
I begun to hope they had gone.

s, r could hear nothing of them, and finally
yentured to peep past the corner of the rock.
I was terribly frightened to see them scatter-
ed along all above us, and I really expected
they had seen me, and would come on to
kill me. But they did not come, and next I
heard your voices, though I was mistrustful
at first that it was the Indians coming.”

“Then ye don’t know which way the crit-
ters went?” asked Simpkins, who had been
an earnest listener, although his eye had been

actively searching for any signs of Indians

the while.

“No, I was not even aware that they had
moved, until I looked about and saw that
none of them were in sight.” ;

“JI never seen the critters act so fanny
ufore,” remarked the hunter. “ Most naterally
I'd think they would have gone on, and done
what mischief they could at the ‘fust start,
But here they seem tew be hangin’ round, a
hundred or more of ’em, jest tryin’ tew ketch
us. But I reckin we'll fool ’em yit.”

 

 

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24 ONE-EYED SIM, THE HUNTER.

As the woman seemed earnest and positive
in her statements regarding the Indians, even
describing the appearance of the warriors,
and showing where they sat, a great curiosity
was felt to ascertain what had become of
them so soon. Simpkins, as usual, claimed
that for his especial duty and privilege.

“Here is this dry meat,” he said, unwrap-
ping the bundle, which had been bound with
thongs of deer-skin, and placing it in their
midst. “’Tis rather hard ¢hawin’, I know,
but it'll serve very well, if ye once git it swal-
lered. ‘While yer’ makin’ out a breakfist o’
that, and I reckin yer’ about hungry enuff,
Tll go out, and see what’s acome of the hu-
man beasts.”

Calling the faithful Pinchers to his side, and
giving him a small piece of the meat, the
scout set off upon his uncertain mission,

On reaching the point indicated by Mrs.
Leonard as having been occupied by savages,
he found abundant evidence of the presence
of a considerable party, who had but recently
left the place. Her story was thus confirmed,
and Sim begun to feel more than ever that
some scheme, which he could not, compre-
hend, was being played by the Pawnees.

“ Consarn ’em all, I'll fetch it out,” he mut-
tered, surveying the ground and casting quick
glances into the forest about, ‘or my name
ain’t Sim Simpkins. The onwashed ornar:
thieves; tew use honest people so. But it’s
costin’ ’em about all it comes tew, I reckin,
so fur.” et

He looked at all the indications before and
around him, and succeeded in finding two
or three blind trails. But nothing seemed to
give him any indication of the whereabouts
of the Indians, or their purpose,

“T rayther incline tew think they’ve gone
‘up over the mount'in,” he pursued, finding
that all traces led in that direction. “I won-

der if they hev’ gone for good.”

His doubts and wonder must have vanished
very speedily, for at that. moment, his cap of
fur lifted from his head, and fell in a cleft of
rock beside him.

_“Purty close, I declar’,” he remarked, pick-
ing it up, and eyeing the curl of smoke which
rose from a cluster of bushes above him. “I
may as well call that a finisher.”

Instead of raising the cap to his head, he
sunk forward, and dropped his rifle, A. yell
of satisfaction broke from the concealed
marksman, who left cover, and sprung in the
direction of his victim.

As he bent over to take the scalp, the red-
skin might have fancied his victim to move.
At the next instant a pistol cracked, and

without a yell, the warrior passed to the
hunting-grounds of his Hereafter,

The wily scout at once commenced a retro-
grade movement from the place, and his pace
was somewhat accelerated when a yell, long,
loud, and fearful, burst from bush and rock
above him. The savages who had been con-
cealed, to the number of a score, broke from
their hiding places, and rushed toward the
scene.

With a few rapid bounds, Simpkins gained

the shelter of his rude stronghold, and the

 

Pawnees followed at no great distance. Such
fire-arms as they had were discharged, but
their terrible enemy seemed to bear a charm-
ed life. No ball of theirs injured him, while
every report of his heavy rifie spoke a death-
note to some brave.

Not till three of their number had fallen
before the deadly rifles of their enemies did
the Indians pause in their onward career.
Then they sullenly withdrew a short distance
and set themselves down to a regular siege
of the place. “

“That's very often the way it works,” re
marked Simpkins, as he took in the position
of affairs, and ducked his head at the flash of
a well-aimed gun. “A man may git out o’
one scrape and intew another all day long,
and maybe fer a week, but, if he’s smart, he'll
ginerally come out all right. Now and then
one gits knocked over, as poor Billy Larkin
did; but it’s an evil day for the red-skins
when they hurt him. It’s cost’em a few 0’
their best fighters, aready.”

“What do you think they mean to do?”
asked Frank.

“Jest now I think they mean tew lay olf
all day, and when it comes dark slip up and
murder us, if they can’t dew it afore without
gittin’ hurt.”

“ And we—what shall we do? Of course
we can not think of being butchered like
buffalos.”

“Not quite. We'll contrive tew fool ’em
some way. It’s possible they may git tired
of the fun, or make a rush and git whipped
out afore dark. Another thing’s jest possible ;
and that is, that both bodies, these and them
what we tussled with this mornin’, may git
tewgether, and whip vs out. Thar’s a good
many ways it may go; we must wait and see.
But take notice 0’ one thing; if ye see a red-
skin’s pate stick up any wha’, dew yer best
tew puta ball through it. That kind of sport
may satisfy ’em sooner’n any thing else.”

“ Kin I hit that one cap’n?” asked Alvin,
pointing to a small part of an Indian’s head
which appeared above a'rock behind which
he had taken refuge. “I kinder want tew
spile the looks o’ that feather with old
Bunker Hill.”

“Yes, blaze away, but be keerful, and the
rest look out that no gun pokes in sight
through bushes or over rocks, while yer
shootin’.”

The boy seemed pleased at the favor, and
bringing up his old favorite, took a steady
aim. The gun cracked, and the feather dis-
appeared; more than which was not to be
ascertained. But inasmuch as nothing fur-
ther was seen of a savage in that vicinity, it
is to be presumed that the stripling’s aim
was not in vain. One or two keeping con-
stant wstch for any movement or exposure
of their foes, the balance now devoted them-
selves to making a meal of the dried venison
which had so opportunely fallen into their
hands. Seeing that in the general excite-
ment of the occasion the women, especially,
were not disposed to eat, the scout cheere
them up in his peculiar way.

“Ye must eat,” he said, “and then sleep

 

 

 
ich
but
rhe
ile
th-

len

in

—wP 88

=P a oF ee

. We didn’t rest any last night, and most likely

i

 

_ reports were heard at the same time, and

THE WHITES BESIEGED.

thar’s another night o’ hard trampin’ afore us ;
that. is, if we escape the red-sking and I
reckin we'll dew that. Ye must keeg up yer
courage and strength, and thar’ ain’t nothin’
better for that than teweat hearty. To be
shure, that. ’ere dry stuff ain’t so nice for
fodder as I hey’ seen, but it’ll dew better’n
nothin’. Course, now, you must eat, or ye
can’t tramp tew-night, and: we'll hev’ ter
leave ye, arter all.”

The women attempted to eat, but the food
seemed almost loathsome, and after several
vain efforts, they were forced to desist.

“Never mind; if ye can’t eat now, sleep
awhile on it,” urged the calm master-mind.
“ After a little nap ye’ll both feel better, and
io vittles ’11 dew ye more real good, may-

Yielding to his solicitations, which were
coupled with those of Frank and Mr. Leon-
ard, the weary mother and: daughter lay
down in the most comfortable spot which
could be selected. Altheugh they had no
anticipation of being able to sleep, it was but
a few moments ere the lids of both were
closed, and they slept quietly for several
hours.

When they awoke it was near noon, and
they were quite hungry. The dried meat
was again brought into requisition, and this
time they were able to eat a tolerable quanti-
ty. They were. very thirsty, but as water
was quite out of the question for the present,
they forced it from their minds.

he, savages still maintained their vigils,
and not a shot had been fired upon either
side. Presently the Indians seemed anxious
to test the wakefulness of their adversaries,
and used several expedients for drawing their
fire, which would have been successful but
for the experienced counsels of Sim.

“Ye don’t want tew fire till ye see a plump
mark,” he said. ‘“ One that ye know’s alive,
and that ye won’t miss. There, jest see that
streaked red-skin; he thinks we’re all asleep
up here.”

One of the savages had sprung upright
upon the rock behind which he had been
crouching for some time, and made a few
contortions of his body, not utterly becoming,
even to a Pawnee.

“Jest leave him to me,” remarked Sim,
as Mr. Leonard would have fired upon. the
Indian’s partially exposing himself again.
UL fey fix his dinner for him, in the best
o} style."

By this time the Indian had appeared
again, and several others were crawling from
their covers.

“Take yer men—quick !” said the stern
hunter, “and shoot when ye git a sure
sight.”

e fired as he ceased speaking, and his
victim fell, uttering a wild yell. Three other

another Pawnee bit the dust, while two
others evidently did not escape unscathed,
£0 skillfully were the rifles of the whites
served,

ndians, and they crept from the spot with —
commendable zeal. we

CHAPTER IX.
What Night Brought,

“ Goon, if they are gone,” remarked Frank,
as the last of them disappeared from sight,
: I begun to think they intended keeping us
here. ie

“Don’t flatter yerself that there’s any such
good news yet,” said Simpkins, shaking his
head. ‘“ They wouldn’t leave in that way if
they karkilated tew go for good. It’s more
my idea that they're gittin’ together tew
counsel some deviltry, than any thing better.”

This hypothesis was confirmed very soon
by the appearance, through the forest, of a,
distant fire. To this Sim called the atten-
tion of his followers, as confirmation of his
suppositions. :

“Thar” it is, ye see, jest what I karkilated.
They're goin’ tew talk the matter over, and if
they feel hungry it’s very much their style
tew eat. But we'll come in for a good share
of their meditations. It seems they are
bound to have us out of their way, in any
case. / }

“While they are oe over matters
why not take ourselves out of the way?”
Frank asked. “We could crawl away and
they never would be any the wiser for it.”

‘“* Not so easy as ye think, young man. I’ve
fit ag’in the red-skins for near or quite thirty
years, I’ve seen’em in about a 1 they’ve
done for that length o’ time, cause where the
Injins‘hev’ been out on a rampag thar’ I was.
Now I'll tell ye jest what ix, We
hain’t one chance in a hundred of gittin’
away from here afore dark! We might dew
it ourselves, but then here’s the women to
see to, and to git along. I tell ye we'd bet-
ter make up our minds to stay whar’ we are,
for the present.”

“ Maybe just as you say,” replied the young
man, though his tones seemed to indicate a
slight amount of distrust. “I don’t profess
to know much about the woods. Only this
I do know—it’s pretty severe staying cocped
up here all day.’

“T knowall that,” replied the scout. “But
then, it ain’t nigh so tough as ’tis tew hev’
the ha’r tuk off ’n one’s head. If you think
the red-skins hey’ bid us good day ye kin
jest move out a ways, and see.” ;

“What do you mean by that?” demanded
Frank, a little sharply, for there had been a

he spoke the last words.

“T mean if ye think it’s so easy to fool the
Injins, ye’d better try it on yer own hook.
A man knows nothin’ about sech things till
he’s tried ’em.”

Possibly Sim Simpkins was getting angry ;
certainly Frank Sherman was. He would
have responded much more sharply, had not

 

The effect was marked. Instantly a retro-

Cora noticed the turn affairs were taking,

e— movement was instituted among the —

peculiar intonation to the hunter’s voice as _

ie

 

He
i}
!
ib
It
i

Sa

a2

Se
ae

Sa

rn to tia
    
 

26

and placed one hand restrainingly upon his
arm. —

“Pshaw, Frank; you must not quarrel
with him!” she said, firmly. ‘Think where
we should be were it not for his help.”

“T know that, but—’ and Frank turned
away. “I will be civil, for your sake, Cora,”
he added.

The stranger scout remained silent for
some minutes, but finally turned toward Mr.
Leonard and Frank, saying, in tones devoid
of any emotion; _

“Tf ye think ye kin dew better to go on,
why, try yer luck. It ain’t for me to say
when or whar’ ye shall go, or when ye shan't
go. If ye say try it, ’m with ye, if not one
of us lives through it. Or, if some of you
can do better nor I, go ahead. I ain’t cravin’
sech jobs as this, though I like to see it
through when I once begin.”

“T’'m perfectly satisfied with what you've
done,” replied Mr. Leonard, “ and I guess all
the rest are. I want ye to dew that that
i seeins right tew ye, and all of us ’ll be
t satisfied.’

Alvin, with his mother and sister quickly
1 followed in assuring Sim Simpkins of their
i entire approval and Frank Sherman could
do no less than to qualify his manner, :
, * All I said,” he remarked, “ was that it
; was hard being cooped up here all day, with
next to nothing to eat, and nothing to drink.
But, if there’s no help for it ’m quite as
ready as any one to stand it.”

‘Good feeling and oneness of purpose hav-
ing been again established, or rather, a de-
cided rupture having been prevented, affairs
moved on in their former channel. No

Sa

=

it movement upon the part of the savages
I could be discovered and to the veteran
i} scout himself it begun to seem possible that

they had really abandoned. their intentions
with regard to the whites.

“Tl soon find out,” Sim said. “Keep yer
eyes al in that direction, and I will try them
a bit.’

He crept from the retreat, and moved
stealthily away in a direction opposite to
the position of the savage camp.

Scarcely had he left the retreat when a
signal was communicated from some Indian
spy unseen, and instantly a commotion was
discernable about the distant fire. The
scout made a short circuit and then returned.

“ Ye see how the land lays,” he remarked,
sliding into the chasm which served them as
a fortress. “ They hed a pesky spy close by,
tew watch all that was goin’ on. If we'd
tried tew leave for good we’d a found our-
selves in a purty fix, jist arter we'd got away.”

__ The appearance of sundry Indians, gra-
_, dually creeping nearer, was additional proof
of the truthfulness of his premises.

“Ye see we can’t git away,” he said, with
truthful earnestness, “ without being sot
upon and dogged by them pesky varmints.
It’s possible we might worst them out, and
keep up arunnin’ fightalong. But we'd stan’ &
great chance o’ more or less on us gittin’ kill-
ed, and lose it all arter the Almighty has
helped us so fur along.”

 

SS

 

ONE-EYED SIM,

 

THE HUNTER.

“Shall we shewt again, cap’n?” asked
Alvin, who was uneasily fingering tle lock
of “ Bunker Hill.” “ That feller over thar’ in
the edge o’ them bushes I could take, like
open and shet.”

“Blaze away, if ye want tew. We've
plenty o’ powder and balls, and it is cheaper
to keep the red-skins at a safe distance than
tis tew drive ’em back ag’in.”

The impulsive youth blazed away, but
missed his man. With a dissatisfied air he
turned to reload his piece.

“Takes a hand o’ experience tew tek’ ’em
every time,” remarked Simpkins. “That feller
was furder off than ye thort fer. See thatone
beyend him, off tew the left? Hethinks he’s
parfictly safe, and maybe he is, fer Sim can’t
hit every time. But, I'll try him, that I will.”

The tall hunter drew his heavy rifle up to
his face, and took avery deliberate aim at
the Indian, who was distant more than three
hundred yards. When he fired the savage
was observed to bound in the air, and dis-
appear with loud yells. Those of the In-
dians who had exposed themselves hastil
withdrew, and universal quiet again reigned.

“Ye hev’ tew keep the critters cowed
down and let ’em know yer on hand, re-
marked the scout, as he poured in the
powder for another charge. “They’re al-
ways inclined tew git sassy,if ye let em hey’
their head, the or’nary beasts !”

Long hours passed away without any fur-
ther incident occuring to mar the dull routine
of watch, converse and sleep. Each of the
party, save the indefatigable Sim, slept for a
short time, though the general anxiety con-
cerning their situation was such as to pre-
clude all long-continued slumbers,

As the sun sunk low behind the trees, the
stern hunter urged another hearty repast of
the dried meat, and though the party was
suffering for water, they brought themselves
to eat as much as could be swallowed of
the unpalatable meat. They certainly felt
stronger after it, and better prepared for the
fatiguing duties which might be before them.

As the first faint evening shades begun to
be visible, the single eye of the hunter seem-
ed to know no rest. Here and there it
roamed, noting every movement of the In-
dians, who could still be seen in the forest
beyond rifle range.

“We must go jest as quick as it’s dusk
enuff so the raskils can’t see us,” he said.
“Ye can see that they’re all wide awake now,
and coming on as fast as they think ’twill
dew. They daren’t git very near, arter the
lessons we’ve l’arnt’em, and that’s lucky for
us. We must cut right over the mountain,
and try tew findthe nighest settlements on
t’other side. If we give the Injins the slip,
we shall be all right. If we don’t happen to
dew that, it’s onsartin about the end.”

Very slowly the twilight seemed to descend,
but it came surely, and as there wasno moon
it would soon be quite dark enough for any
practicable adventure. As the shades in-
creased, it was evident that the Pawnees were
approaching. Here and there adusky Sigure
could be seen, gliding cautiously nearer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

mo >

—~< « 1
sked
lock
rin
like
e’ve
per
ban

S ° 2a" 5:

 

 

THE ESCAPE DISCOVERED. 27

“We hey’ tew salute the infarnal critters
again,” remarked Simpkins. “See, there is
one behind that little clump of hazel bushes.
Tew of ye fire at that, and I'll shoot off whar’
I seen a sneak last.”

There were three rifle reports, almost at the
same moment, and two distinct yells from
the Indians, showing that powder had not
been burned in vain.

“That’s good,” remarked Sim, “That’s
put’em back a few, and while they’re gittin’
more careful we'll leave. Off with yer boots,
and come on.”

“ Shali we not reload ?” asked Frank.

“Not now; we won’t stop for that. All
we want is to git away, and make no fuss
about it. We shall have our pistils if we
meet any Injins, but that ain’t what we
want to dew, Off with yer other boot, and
then we’re reidy for sarvice.”

So saying, he led the way very carefully
from the recky recess, and commenced climb-
ing the mountain above them. It was now
so dusky that objects could only be distin-
guished at very short distances, and there
was littie danger of the movements of the
party being overheard, as the men were
obligel_ to pick their way barefooted over
the urpleasant ground.

Pirchers moved with the group, seemin,
to fel the importance of his services; an
certiinly to his keen senses the party trusted

more than toany powers of their own.

They moved some distance, more than a
nile it seemed to those who were obliged
v walk with bare feet through the va-
yous obstructions which they encountered,
when their leader paused, and gently whis-
pered:

“Ye kin put yer boots on, now, if ye’ll
walk jest the stillest kind. But be awful

keerful, ’cause there’s no knowin’ whar’ the |’

varmints may be hangin’ round.”

Scarcely had they resumed progress when
from beneath them came a yell—long, loud
and fierce—which echoed and resounded far
and wide, along the mountain-side

“Ha! the raskils hev’ made a strike,” re-
marked Sim with asilent laugh. “ Hope they
won't bluster and fume any over the skelps
they'll git !”

A moment later a second whoop was heard,
different in tone and character trom that
which had been given at first. That had
been boisterous, exultant, savage; this was
subdued, sullen, revengeful. It was evident
that the Indians were unprepared to find
their prey flown, and quite disappointed at
the result.

No one in the fugitive party spoke, but
all felt that the crisis of their fate was at
hand. Silently, earnestly they pressed for-
ward, up the sharp ascent, and in due course
of time were gratified by standing upon the
summit. :

Here their leader paused, and those who
followed were not sorry to do the same, as
the ascent had been quite fatiguing. It was
now so dark that nothing beyond the imme-
diate vicinity of the party could be distin-
guished. The expanse below and around,

 

appeared a second chaos. Nothing but vast
and impenetrable darkness seemed over the
face of the earth. e

“ What d’ye s’pose the Injins ’ll dew now ?”
asked Mr. Leonard, in a low whisper, as he
found himself near Simpkins.

“ A feller can’t tell for sartin,” was the re-
sponse. ‘But they will be most likely tew
try and foller us.”

“ D’ye think they'll make out our trail ?”

“S'pose so; why not? They’re used to that
kind o’ bizniss all their lives, and its only na-
tural that they should know which way
we've gone, pretty near.”

“They'll overhaul us, arter all, won’t
they ?”

“JT guess not. We've got the start, and if
they try to foller us in the night, even ifthey
git the trail; it’s purty sartin they can’t gain
much on us. But we've fit em once or
twice, and can dew it ag’in, if the pinch
comes.” oe

Having regained breath the party set for-
ward, continuing upon the crest of the
mountain for a short distance,and then com-
mencing the descent. It was slow, fatigu-
ing, vexatious, and even dangerous work, in
the thick blackness which lay upon the
forest. The latter term could hardly be ap-
plied appropriately to the mountain-surface,
as the principal productions in that vicinity
were rocks and bushes. Some distance he-
low them the trees were o vigorous growth,
and toward this point they were tending.
When the forest should be reached the travel-
ing would be easier. =

CHAPTER X
The Second Nigl

Tu party gained the shelteF of the trees,
and though the blackness was still more in-
tense, they proceeded with greater ease,
since the undergrowth had ceased, and noth-
ing save rocks and fallen trees obstructed
their way.

At length they reached the level ground,
when Simpkins, who was in advance, paused,
and plucked his companions cautiously by the
arm as they came up. At the same time he
pointed in advance.

By peering through the trees they were
able to distinguish a single bright spot, farin
advance, which could have proceeded from
nothing but a camp-fire.

“What d’ye s’pose we've got there?” asked
Mr. Leonard. ‘ie

“Another nest of red-skins,I karkilate,”
was the cool response.

“Then we may jest as well give up all
hope,” remarked the
“ They’re all sides of us, and ull round us. I’m
almost tired of fightin’ ’em all the while. A
feller might as well be killed off fust as last.”

“Maybe that’s the way you feel,” re-
marked Simpkins, ‘‘ but it seems tew me ye
orter be a leetle ashamed of it. Don’t ye keer
any thin’ about yer wife andchildren. Now,
it never was my fortin’ tew hey’ sich a gal as

  

desponding man. _

\

Sa aaeees

 
 

 

 

28 ONE-EYED SIM,

you've got, nor a wife either, for the matter 0’
that. But if I did, youd see me fight for
them if I didn’t keer any thing about myself!
My advice to yew is: when ye git back out
0’ the way o’ these Injins, don’t ye never
come whar’ they'll hev’ a chance at ye ag’in.”

“I won't, ye needn’t be any afeard of
that,” was the quick reply. “I thought there
warn’t any sech place as the West ; nor there
ain’t in civil times. Butif this is the way
they use a feller, Pll give the Injins my
house, and I'll stay back in the States.”

“We are not in a fair way to reach the
tates, as yet,” remarked Frank. “Sometimes
I doubt much if we shall ever get there. The
Indians seem to be out in great force, and it
would be nothing astonishing if they should
outwit us at last.” o

“Have patience, my good folks,” said Simp-
kins, preparing to lead the way forward
again. “The red-skins have got the advan-
tage in numbers, but that’s about all. Long as
they’re on foot they’re afeard of us. It’s
lucky they hain’t any hosses, though that
wouldn’t help ’em much in this part of the
country. Still they’re afeard on us, and
darsn’t close right in ’less they think that’s
some advantage on their side. We must get
up a little nearer, and then Pll go and see
what this new fangle is.”

They moved on, neatly in the direction of
the strange fire, for some time, and it needed
no injunction to cause the party to proceed
silently. There was a faint possibility that
the light before them might proceed from a
friendly camp, though that was hardly prob-
able, from the very nature of things. If not,
there was but one other possibility — they
were still in the midst of foes.

Halting his party at the distance of half a
mile from the fire, Simpkins crept forward
alone, in order to dispel all doubts relating
to the matter, the uneasy manner of Pinch-

‘iving him little doubt but that he should

ers
find another swarm of savages on the war-
pa

th. A

He had proceeded a little distance when
his eye encountered a second light, away to
the left. Startled at the discovery, he glanc-
ed quickly about, but saw nothing of any
more. He had proceeded but a few steps
further, however, when another, bearing to
the right, appeared. Somewhat undecided
how to act, he paused for a moment, to take
in more fully the situation.

The three fires which he had, thus far, dis-
covered, were separated by about equal dis-
tances. The first which had been seen was
directly before him, and nearly half a mile
away. The others were situated, one upon
each hand, about the same distance from the

central fire and himself:

This did not look exactly like the dispo-
sition Indians would make of themselves,
nor was it the manner in which whites would
be most likely to ehcamp. Even the sage
hunter was somewhat perplexed.

“Tl go right ahead, as I started tew,” he
finally muttered. ‘“ Most likely it’s Injins,
but I'll find out for sartin. If thar’s any
more danger in goin’ this way than some

 

 

THE HUNTER.

other, I don’t know it, and guess the danger
ain’t so much for me as fer the red-skins, if
they molest a feller.”

The latter supposition might appear quite
reasonable in consideration of the fact that
Simpkins carried two rifles, one of which
was slung across his back, and the other be
ing in his hands for ready use.

Te proceeded along quite rapidly till suf-
ficiently near the scene for any incautious
movement to attract attention, and then’ it
was that his life-long schooling begun to: tell
in his favor. He crept up, getting closer at
every moment, but was unable to determine
what he wished most toascertain. He found
that the light of the fire was rapidly fading
away, and very soon it would he next to im-
possible to distinguish white from red.

One of the dwellers beside the fire seemed
impressed with the same idea, though from
a different motive. Rising from his recum-
bent position in the shadow, he placed a
handful of fagots upon the fire, end then
relapsed into his former listless attitude,

But the few moments of his exposure had
been sufficient to convince the peering hunt-
er in regard to those matters of which he had
previously doubted.  Stealthily as he had.
come did he crawl from the place, musirg to
himself:

“So it’s red-skins, jest as I suspeded,
Nothin’ wrong about that, only we shall hive
tew take Kind of a roundabout way, whieh
ain’t much tew my likin’.”

Simpkins was proceeding leisurely along
contemplating and reconsidering the events
of the past four-and-twenty hours, when he
was startled by the snap and flash of a gun,
scarcely six feet in advance of him. Unseen
by the scout, a savage had dogged his foot-
steps for a short distance, and then glided in
front of him, snapping his gun close to the
brave hunter’s heart. But Providence had
other work for Sim Simpkins. The weapon
missed fire.

Instantly the starled man sprung upon his
almost unseen adversary, aiming a heayy
blow at him with the gun he carried. The
Indian, singularly enough, changed his piece
at the same moment, and their blows met in
the air. Neither of the combatants were in-
jured, nor were their strong weapons shat-
tered by the stroke. 4

Dropping his gun at the moment the blow
was given, Simpkins rushed upon the say-
age, and caught himinhisarms. The strug-

le which followed was short. , The Pawnee
ropped his gun, and tried to grasp his ter-
rible antagonist ; but finding that he failed in
this, allowed himself to be thrown to the earth,
while he fumbled vigorously for his knife,

Had he succeeded in producing that wea-
pon, itis quite possible that the white man
would have suffered; but it stuck in the
sheath, and while he was vainly tugging with
one hand to loosen it, Simpkins’ more ready
weapon pierced his heart. !

“Thar goes another confounded fool !”
mused the victor, wiping his knife and plac-
ing it in the sheath again, “Asif he ex-
pected tew whip out Sim Simpkins alone—

 

 

 
Se

 

A SKIRMISH WITH THE RED-SKINS. 9925p

8 job what no half-dozen red-skins ever done
yet. Some tender-hearted critters say it’s
wrong tew kill a man, even tew save yer
own life, but I never seen it in that way.
When sich raskils as these git abroad, the
sooner they’re planted the better it is, fer
them and everybody else.”

Meditating thus, and feeling as unconcern-
ed as though no human life had lately
taken its departure at his bidding, the rang-
er sought out his comrades.

They were where they had been left, wait-
ing anxiously for him, and desiring to know
the success of his mission.

“Ts jist what I expected,” he replied, to
their eager questions. ‘“ Thar’s Injins out
thar’, but I reckin most of ’em air goin’ tew
sleep, so we shan’t be afeard of ’em. Ye
see we shall hev’ tew make suthin’ of a circle
round, so as not to disturb ’em much, and I
reckin the hornets’ll keep their nest.”

The party set forth, taking the roundabout
way indicated and pursued by their guide.
As much time had been lost, they traveled
fast to make up for the loss in delays and
circuitous progress.

They had gone but a short distance when
a wild distant yell rose through the forest,
and reached their startled ears. One and all,
save the scout, paused in dismay, while one
of the females asked :

“Tn merey’s name, what is that?”

“Nothin’ of any consequince,”’ returned
Simpkins. “TI hed a little squabble with one
of their braves while I was away, and he hed
the misfortune to git the wust of it. Ireckin
they’ve found his defuncted karkass, most
likely.”

He had not intended to communicate his
adventure to them, knowing it must natur-
ally make them more uneasy. But, as there
was no way to avoid it now, and he did not
think the savages could find his trail, he com-
municated the fact to them, in order that they
might feel no unnecessary apprehensions.

“We've got tew mnch the start of em tew
be tracked out,” he added, “if they try ev-
er so hard. Course they'll feel bad, and
make suthin of anadew. Butlet’em sweat.
While they’re about that we'll be tray-
elin’.”

They proceeded for some time, walking as
rapidly as the darkness would permit.
They were traveling in a direction at right
angles to the one they wished to pursue, but
as this was taking them away from the In-
dians, they thought less of extra travel than
present danger.

Suddenly Sim stopped short, and even his
usually strong heart gave a quicker bound
than usual, as he heard the sharp yelp of an
Indian dog behind them. The animal could
not be very far behind, and his yelps, given
at short, regular intervals, served, no doubt,
to guide on a pursuing party of Pawnees.

“Confound the cusses!’ exclaimed the
hunter, and he might have used a stronger
expression in connection; “they’ve got a
dorg, and the cuss is trackin’ on us! Here,”
and he turned Frank, who was next him to
the right, “cut off square this way, and I’ll

 

go back and fix the dog. Quick, now ; there’
no time to be lost !” mit ®

ioe turned in the direction indicated, and
then Sim Simpkins faced about upon his
self-imposed task. Hastening back a few
paces, he snatched a pistol from his belt, and
dashed some fresh powder into the pan.
Then crouching low, he awaited the coming
of the animal he purposed to destroy.

Presently the wolf-dog appeared, his nose
close to the ground, and following the trail
at a brisk trot. He did not seem to espy
the crouching white man until his nose was
almost upon him. Then he stopped, sniffed
and growled, but offered no assault to the per-
son in his path. Not so the hunter. He re-
alized very well that no time was to be lost,
and leveling his weapon at the beast’s heart
he fired. Of course his shot was not thrown
away, at such close quarters, and the unfor-
tunate animal dropped struggling to the earth.

Quickly following the report came a chorus
of yells from Indian lungs, and the scout
found that pursuers were nearer than he had
anticipated. He did not reflect how to meet
them. Replacing the discharged pistol in his
belt, he raised the rifle he held in his left
hand, and fired it in the direction of the ap-
proaching Pawnees. ;

A cry of rage and discharge of weapons
followed, but Simpkins was not harmed. He
had stepped behind a tree after firing, charg-
ing his gun as he did so. A moment later
his second shot rung out, and from the cries
which followed, he fancied it had not sped in
vain. we

Judging that this greetin
Indians a short time, till
out its nature, he turned upon his heel, and
sought his companions. Of eourse they were
greatly alarmed at the firing, and probably
not one of the party really expected to be-
hold the form of their brave deliverer again.

But he rejoined them with his u calm-
ness, only whispering, as he passed them:

would delay the

  
  

“We mustn’t lose any time now. Ivesot

’em back a trifle, and if we hurry, I reckon
*twill bother’em tew find us ag’in, seein’ they
hain’t got another dorg tew nose their way
for em.”

That the check they had received did not
long delay the Indians was soon apparent, as
their footsteps could be heard in the forest,
passing along with less than their usual
caution. But they appeared to have lost the
trail, and were uncertain which way to pro-
ceed. While they were in this state of un-
certainty it was possible their intended victims
might escape them. %

“Off with yer boots ag’in,” whispered the
scout. “They don’t know whar’ tew look
for us, and we mustn’t tell’em. We've

y could study

tew go still, or they’ll hey’ the skin off’n our

heads.”

Though their feet were still sore and
smarting from their former barefoot ae
the men did not hesitate a moment, but tak-
ing their boots in hand fullowed their leader,
while Pinchers was stationed in the rear to
give notice of the approach of the red-sking,

Very silently the party stole along through

Soon il

 

i
i]
{3
|

Setnaii enna
Yj
I
i
i

ee

 

 

 

_ windings; but

80

the woods, hearing abundant evidence be-
hind them that the savages were looking for
victims. But they encountered none of
them, and after a time had the satisfaction to
lose all sounds of any presence save their
own party.

“ Now, boys, ye kin put on yer boots ag’in,”
said Sim, “and we'll try ’em a pull right
ahead. We've gin’em the slip, jest the neat-
est it ever war done, I reckon.”

They did so, and then the bold ranger sped
onward, merely cautioning his companions
to tell him when they could not keep pace
with him.

Suddenly he recoiled, and barely prevent-
ed himself from slipping into a creek, which
ran before them. It was much broader than
they could leap, and of uncertain depth.

“Well, well, here’s a purty fix!” he mut-
tered, casting his eyes as faras possible in the
gloom, up and down the stream. “Id for-
got all about this here, though many’s the
time I’ve crossed it myself.”

 

?
CHAPTER XI
Morning Dawns.

“ Gosn, we kin wade that ; who’s afeard ?”
demanded Alvin, stepping forward, as though
to plunge into the stream. ‘“ Can’t we, mis-
ter ? gy: i

“Guess not, quite. Ye'll find it over yer
head, ’speshilly this time o’ year,” was the
response. “I know al! about this place.
We shall hev’ to find some way to make a
bridge, unless these women can swim.”

“There’s nobody here that can swim, but
Frank,” returned Mr. Leonard.

“Then we're in a purty fix,” responded the
guide. “ But no use cryin’ over a split
plate, or a dead b’ar,so we must dew the
next best thing. We must look for a place
tew cross, and not lose any time about it
either. If I remember right thar’s an old
‘beaver dam down below, I'm sure it must be
below, whar’ [ye trapped the furry critters
more nor one day. It’s the wrong way tew
f°; fer it’s takin’ us right down ahind the

ins; but it can’t be more nor a couple of
miles, and we'll hev’ tew take the risk. If we
can git thar’ we can cross the stream, easy
enuff, and then thar’ will be a straight road
ahead, till we git tew the first settlements.
It'll be a purty long tramp, but then we kin
dew it easy ‘nuff, if the Pawnees’ll let us
alone—the mischief-making beasts !”

By this time the party had changed their
course, and were proceeding down-stream.
The creek had many a long meander, and it
was ne, of a difficulty to follow its

i

    
  

 

passed since he last visited the place, and it
was necessary to keep very near the channel
in order that their only bridge might not be
missed.

There were thickets. and swamps, almost
without number, in their way, which the
inky blackness concealed until they were en-

ONE-EYED SIM,

mpkins was uncertain where |
the dam was to be found, as several years had

 

THE HUNTER.

tangled beyond possibility of avwiling. But
they had learned to count toil lightly, and
struggled on with hopeful zeal.

At length they reached a portion of ground
where the water had been backed up, and
overflowed the banks for some distance. The
hunter paused, and after sani the features
of the place a few moments, said:

“This here’s the place, sure as ye’re born.
I’ve been here tew many times ter be fooled
easy. Yes, I know this old cottonwood;
and that big stump, jist beside o’ ye, is one
that I cut down, years ago. It ain’t more
nor thirty rods down to the dam. Come on
out this way so’s tew git round the water,
and thet, good-by, mister Injin !”

The party in general seemed highly pleased
at their prospective escape, but none more so
than the veteran scout. He led them through
the forest in the manner of one quite at home,
and presently turned his face again toward
the river.

They had passed the swamp, and as they
trod upon firm, hard ground, none of the
party doubted that they should soon escape
all danger. But before the guide had pro-
ceeded many yards in thenew direction he
stopped, and bent forward in a listening at-
titude.

A quick sniff and growl from the faithful
Pinchers had put him upon guard, since the
canine monitor never gave false alarms.

“?Sh-h!” he whispered, stopping his com-
panions by 4 movement of his hand. ‘“ The
dorg smells suthin’; we must find out what
the matter is, afore we git intew danger.”

Even as he spoke, there came a sharp yelp
from the forest in advance of them, and an
Indian dog dashed through the woods. The
scout gave an almost imperceptible signal to
his dog, who at once grappled with the
Pawnees’ cur, with such vigor as to deprive
him of life very speedily.

A rustling could be heard in the direction
whence the dog had come, and it was evident
that the savages were coming on to see what
had disturbed their sagacious animal. The
whites were much frightened, with the ex-
ception of Simpkins. He was perfectly cool,
and communicated his intentions in low, dis-
tinct whispers.

“ Fall back here a little,’ he said, “and
formaline. Hey’ yer rifles allready, and if the
Injins find us, fire in, and then charge ’em
with ayell. Dll warrant they won’t wait fer
asecond dose. But I don’t think they will.
There, stan’ whar’ ye be, and see what will
take place.”

Grasping their weapons, the anxious party,
with the women in the rear, waited the move-
ments of their natural foes. The latter, evi-
dently surprised at the silence of their dog,
came along very cautiously, till one of the
braves discoverd the bleeding carcass, ‘thep
gave it a hasty examination, and then, wit!
every appearanee of utter terror, hastened
back, into the darkness from which they had
emerged.

“Jest what I karkilated on,” remarked
Simpkins, with his peculiar, silent laugh,
“The critters thort that their dorg was fit by

 

 
 

 

A REST, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

apainter. Jest the thing; fer they might as
well fall intew the jaws o’ a painter as of
Pinchers. Now we'll try ag’in, and see if we
kin find the dam.”

They moved more cautiously than before,
knowing the dangers which they braved.
Their weapons were in readiness for instant
use, and bold, indeed, must have been the In-
dian horde which dared attack that small but
determined band of whites. ,

Greping along steadily, the little party
soon gained the vicinity of the old dam, which
had been built before white men invaded
the haunts of the cunning natural architects.
or the Indians had learned the superiority of
their foes. The colony had long since been
exterminated, and only the remains of their
work existed, to save the fugitive party from
destruction,

They were almost ready to set foot upon it,
Sim leading the way and feeling out asafe
path, when he uttered a low sound of caution,
and immediateiy crept back.

“Down! Down, and iie close,’ he whis-
pered. “Thar’ is somethin’ ahead, I can’t
say what, but most likely ’tis Injins. Hev’
yer guns ready, in case they find us.”

Crouching to the earth, they waited in
breathless suspense for the development.
There was a pale glow of stars, and by the
uncertain light they soon descried dark
forms, crossing the old dam, and coming to-
ward them. Now and then an outline was
presented against the sky, leaving no doubt
that the strangers were Indians.

One after another crossed and passed on
into the forest till seven had gone, and no
more seemed to be coming. They had not
discovered the whites, nor did they seem to
suspicion the presence of any save their own
people.

Thankful for their continued good-fortune,
the adventurers rose to their feet again, and
begun the task of crossing the creek. |

t was far from being easily accomplished.
The action of water for years had worn away
the moveable portion of the dam, and only
a few trees, partially drittwood remained. In
the darkness it was a matter requiring great
skill and nicety for a person to cross this
uncertain structure without slipping into the
water beneath.

But even the prospect of a severe wetting
was more agreeable than that of falling into
the hands of Pawnee warriors, and the at-
tempt was at once made. Sim Simpkins
went first, leading Mrs. Leonard, who crawl-
ed over the rude supports fearfully; while
Frank followed, performing a similar office for
Cora. Luman Leonard and his son brought
up the rear, keeping their ears open that the
Indians did not come down upon them.
Pinchers, too, remained upon the shore till
the party had reached the opposite bank,
when he quietly took to the water and swam
across.

After leaving the vicinity of the stream
they found the way quife open, the forest be-
ing free from underbrush, and the ground
level. They met with no further signs of
savages, and after three or four hours travel

 

begur to congratulate themselves upon their
good-fortune. ae

The more timid—naturally the most easily
elated, as well as discouraged—begun. to feel
that all danger was past. This hope, coupled
with the excitement which had been constant
for more than thirty hours, enabled the weary
ones to journey forw at a rapid pace.
They realized well that life, and more than
mere life, depended upon their own unaided ©
efforts.

Time passed, and it seemed morning must
be near. Still they journeyed on, though
their steps had begun to lag, and it seemed
that the women, especially, must soon sink to
the earth, unable to proceed further.

“How much further afore we take a rest?”
asked Luman at length, dashing away the
sweat which rolled from his brow, cool as
was the night. ‘“1s’pose we ain’t nowheres
near any house yit.’

“Houses; Lord bless ye, no! We ain’t
more’n half-way from the creek tew the nearest
settlers, if we've gone right, and I’m nothin’
sure about that.”

“The wimmin folks are gittin’awful tired,”
pursued the first speaker, hesitatingly. ;

“Sol reckun; and so I guess yew air,” was
the response.

“Ye ain’t fur from right in that.”

“ Well, I s’pose,” and the tall scout hesi-
tated, before he added, “J s’pose ye might as
well lay down and rest what ye kin, till day-
jight. I’m more used to this kind 0’ wank,
and ain’t sleepy, so I'll stan’ guard. Pinchers
and me kin keep the red-skins away till day-
light, I guess.” i

Accordingly a suitable ]
and the tired party of a
the bare earth. True th
couch than nature afforded, and: no covering ©
but the sky. Still, in a very r few moments the
whole party was sleeping soundly.

Sim Simpkins had taken upon himself the
duties of scout and sentinel. After waiting
till the entire party slept he posted Pinchers
in their midst, and then strolled leisurely
back, in the direction whence they had come.
Finding all still in this quarter, the hunter
gradually extended his circuit, and moyed
about the bivouac of his sleeping companions
until he reached a point nearly opposite,
Here he paused, and placing one hand upon
a stump, gazed fixedly at the tree-tops for
some time.

Whatever might have been the subject of
his thoughts, it seemed to have been dismissed,
and he was upon the point of returning,
when a natural question presented itself:
Whence came the stump upon which his
hand rested? It had been cut but recently;
more than that, it had been cut with an ax,
one by one well skilled in the use of that
tool.

These circumstances awoke a train of re-
flections.. They were not in a district fre-
quented by trappers, and that class of men

   
   
  

ace was selected,
enturers sunk upon
ey had no softer

who would pause and build temporary habi-
tations. It was on no ordinary route of travel
to the few settlements which were scattered
beyond that point. No temporary band of

81 ‘ ny

‘tte

aa na

ae cesta

eta

 
 

 

 @omrade would have poured forth, by saying :

 

tb er eting which followed was more'than cor-

_ with the Injins, and got all fagged out. Why

 

hunters would cut such a tree; whence, then,
came its destruction ?

“Tt's been a good many year since I’s off
this way,” he reflected, “and it’s a leetle
more’n probable that some chap may hey’
settled down here afore this time. Ill look
alittle, and see if thar’s Any prospect 0’ that.”

The thought had merely struck him with re-

to possibility; he had scarely supposed
t probable that any living being had set-
tled thus far awey in’ the forest. For
a hundred miles beyond them he knew set-
tlers to be sparse, and it certainly seemed
more likely that they would fill up the
regions already marked out, before cuieg
further into the wilds of the Indian-roame
forest.

Yet as he proceeded the surprised scout
encountered fresh stumps, all cut in the same
manner, and showing the act of a single
hand. His first suspicions almost confirmed
by the repeated proofs which he encountered,
he looked earnestly for any traces of a dwell-
ing, or any thing which should relieve his un-
certainty. =,

He was still proceeding carefully, using
eye and ear in the thick gloom which sur-
rounded every thing, when the bark of a dog
struck upon his ear, and startled as well as
satisfied him. Knowing that the animal be-
longed to some white man, as it had not the
wolfish yelp of an Indian dog he bent his
steps in that direction, the sentinel keeping
up an incessant uproar all the while. 4

In the excitement of the moment Sim had
scarcely noticed that he was upon the border
of a clearing in the center of which, faintly
revealed by the starlight, he could see the
outline of a small building, evidenly the ob-
ject of his search. Even now he fancied
e within, and presently a
sound as of bars being moved, reached his
ear. Meanwhile the dog had placed himself
full before the tall scout, and seemed inclined
to dispute his further progress.

Determined to run a small risk, rather
than stand the danger of a hasty shot, Simp+
kins placed himself behind a stump, and
cautiously sung out:

“ Hilloa ! in thar’ ?”

“There was no reply, and, after waiting a
moment, the concealed hunter repeated the
call. ’

“ Halloa yerself,”’ came back the response,
“Who be ye; and what ye arter ?”

“Ever heern o’ Sim Simpkins ?”

“ Reckin so; I’ve fit and hunted with him
ayear. Is that you?”

“Me, if I know myself. Is that Sam ?”

“Sam Garvey, as true as ye live!”

The two men advanced to each other.
Tl.zy had not met in long years, and the

  

ial in its nature. After a hearty hand-shak-
ing, and a few rapid sentences exchanged,
Sim broke the thread of questions which his

“Thar’s three men and a couple o’ wim-
min folks out in the woods yender, what’s laid
down tew sleep. Been hevin’ a pesky time

 

(82 ONE-EYED SIM, THE HUNTER.

can’t I bring ’em intew yer shanty, here, whar
they'll hey’ suthin’ over their heads ?”

“Don’t ask me no sich question as that,
Sim Simpkins,” returned the other. ‘“ Darn,
my two eyes if I wouldn’t give up every inch
o’ my shanty tew ye, if ’twarneeded. But
*tain’t; thar’s rewm enuff for us all, sech as

“Then I'll hurry on, and tell’em, Sam; We
kin talk over old timesiafterwards.”

“Bring ’em on. D’ye s’pose they’re
hungry ?”

“Hungry! I guess so. Hain’t eat nothin’
butia: little ‘Injin chip’ fera day and tew
nights. Shouldn’t wonder if they was
hungry.” /

He departed, well knowing from the: dis-
position of the man he parted with what
would be the result of the question and reply.

“ Really, this is a Godsend,” he mused, re-
tracing his way through the forest. “These
poor folks will hev’ a chance tew git suthin’
of a rest, and suthin’ tew eat. Then
they can goon, with all the comfort in the
world.”

He found the party sleeping as he had left
them, and at once set about awakening them
saying in cheery tones, as each pair of eyes
opened :

“Come on; I’ve found a comfortabler
place than this; one with a ruff tew it!”

The awakened sleepers asked but few
questions, but: were soon ready to follow their
guide.

As they left the place the first faint beams,
of morning light could be seen, illuminating
the far distant horizon. But none the less
dark was the gloom which hung over the
forest about them. ;

CHAPTER XII.
Old Foes,

Ir took the party but afew moments to
reach the little cabin, and at the door they
were met by the owner, with a lighted pine
splinter in hand.

“ Come right in,” he said, with hearty good
will, throwing wide the door. “I hain’t a
nice house tew ask ye intew, but it’s bettern
a snooze on the bare ground, tew them
what’s used to hevin” ruffs over their heads,”

They entered, and found themselves in a
simple, tidy apartment, extending the entire
size of the cabin. On one side was a large
fire-place, built in the primitive manner. A
small kettle, filled with coffee, was be-
ginning to simmer over the blaze, and a
choice lot of bear-steak was broiling upon
the coals. SUES

In a short time the hospitable entertainer
had drawn outa small table, of his own man-
ufacture, and spread a comfortable repast up-
on it. There was smoking hot coffee, savory.
steaks of bear meet, good corn bread, and a
few minor dishes. The adventurers were
surprised, as well as gratified at this unex-
pected good-fortune. They did not require
a second bidding to “set up and make them-

 
 

SAM GARVEY’S ADVENTURE.

selves “tew hum,” but'fell to with an alacrity
‘and gusto which was certainly flattering to
Sam Garvey’s pride as host and cook.

While they were eating, himself and the
one-eyed hunter were conversing earnestly.

“Tnever should have dreamed of seein’
Sam Garvey settled down in sich a place as
this,” remarked Simpkins. - “ When we used
tew trap and trail it together, I reckoned
you'd allus follow that kind o’ business, till
ye went up some natural way.”

“ So I did used tew think,” was the reply.
“But, ve made up my mind differently now.
I got hurt one day in the woods all alone.
A wounded buck sprung at me. I went tew
jump one side, but ketched my foot in a root,
what I hadn’t seen, and tumbled down.
Along comes the ‘buck, and jest plants his
forward feet on my back. ’Twas lucky I
hed a pistil; if I hadn’t I should ha’ gone
under in jest tew minnits and a quarter. I
drawed the thing out, and put the muzzle
right ag’in the critter’s heart. , Jehosaphat !
How he went intew ‘the air when I fired!
Down he come, right atop of me, and _arter
kickin’ round a spell, kinder eased off and
died. I tried tew crawl out from under him,
but couldn’t dew it. I was bruised up so,
and the critter was so heavy. I waited
awhile, hopin’ I'd feel stronger. But instid
o’ that I growed weaker, and felt more pain
all the while.

“ By and by, I be ter see that my last
days was come, if I didn’t get loose some
way. I tried it ag’in, and worked till I most
fainted away, but it wa’n’t no go. Ye see
the critter was bustin’ fat and heavy, and
laid right square across me. Besides, where
his huffs had hit 1 could feel plain enough
that the hide and meat was off slick ter the
bones, an I wa’n’t sartin but what they was
broke, tew. He’d struck me a half-dozen
times, at least, afore I got my pistil out, and
then fell onto me.”

“Wal, ye see, ’'d found out that I'd got
ter die thar’, a soon, tew, if I couldn’t
git loose. Wal, 1 never was so afeard.as
some of gittin’ killed, if thar’ wasany use init,
But when I come to think over the idee of
dyin’ thar’, in that kind of a way, it wa’n’t
nothin’ pleasant. I found’at I'd a good deal
rather live awhile longer. I couldn’t think
of but one way tew git clear. I reached
round, fur as I could, and managed tew git
hold of my knife. ’T'was sharp, and I had
some strength in my arms, so I went to work,
tryin’ ter cut the deer intew. ’Twan’t notb-
in’ of a small job, the way I lay, and the
way I’s bruised up. But every time I draw-
ed the knife made one iess, and finally I had
-itall done but onj’intin’ his backbone

“That warn’t done easy—no, sir ! -Iywork-
ed and poked and pried, and begun.tew think
T'd hev’ tew give up arter all. But by’n ‘by,
1 got the p’int o’ the knife intew the right
place, and she giv’. Ye may bet I felt as if
a load was goné then! I managed to turn
over a little, and purty soon I had the deer
in tew piles, one on each side on me.

“Wal, thar’ Lowas. I tried to git:up,

but couldnt dew :it. However, I drawed
‘

 

myself along, half a rod or so, and found an
easy place to lay. Thar’ I stretched out, and
lay an hour, afore I’ knew any thing, onl

that I’d got free. Finally I begun tew thin

0’ gitlin’ up, but found that wa’n’t no easy job.
Still, 1 made out tew do it, and arter I'd
walked about ten rod I lay down ag’in. I
found I wa’n’t goin’ tew git home that way.
Then I begun tew think what I should dew.
The rest of my fellers was off three mile, and
wouldn’t come to look fer me till next day,
if they did then. I found I’d got tew wait
for em, any way. If I lived, I should live;
it I died, die I must; it could not be avoided.

“ After a while I crawled back tew the car-
kiss of the deer, and cut offsech parts as I want-
ed. Then I gotaway, maybe twenty-five rods,
though. it took me more’n one hour to dew
that. I lay and rested awhile, and then I
built up a fire, and roasted my meat. By
this time it was about night, and I eat what
I could, and lay down to try and sleep.

“JT didn’t dew much o’ that, but managed
tew git through the night, some way. Morn-
in’ come, and in about an hour I begun tew
load and fire my rifle. The wolves had
growled and quarreled all night over the deer,
and some of ’em was thar’ yit, though there
couldn’t be any thing but bones left. TI
thought like en’uff the sound o’ the rifle
might scare ’em away; for I didn’t know
any thing how soon they might take a ‘no-
tion to come and pick my bones.

“But it did more than that. As I fancied,
my comrades had started out to look forme,
and soon found me, by the report of the gun.
They carried me back to camp, and did the
best they could for me. But it was a hard
case. For weeks they
But you see I didn’t.

“Arter I got well I
followed that kind o’ life long enuff, so I
went back to the fust settlements, and tried
tew find some chances fer doin’ suthin’ else.

   
 
 
  
 

But nothin’ jest suited me, so I coneluded —

tew come back in here, and squat on a
piece of land and raise part of my livin’, and
hunt for the rest. So I did, and last spring I
made a strike. I like it fust rate here,
though it’s ruther lonesome.” “

“ How fur to the next. settlement ?” asked
Simpkins. ;

“Ten miles, and a plain trail all the way.”

They conversed for some time longer, and
then Sim expressed his intention of seeking
a few hours sleep.

“T rayther think we’ve fooled the Injins,
arterall,” he said. “They hain’t made their
appearance yit,and I think they’ve gi’n up
the race in this quarter.”

“Let em come on if they think best,” re-
turned Sam Garvey. ‘“ We've fit ’em to-

gether, and'I’ve put up these yere walls with |

a view tew jest sech onlikely critters as they
be. Besides, I’ve got plenty of powder and
lead, and fancy by the shewtin’ traps your
fellers-laid aside, that you ain’t lackin’.”
“No, we have a supply of iron, and a good
lot o’‘powder and ball,” was the reply.
‘“But, Pinchers will give ye warnin’, if thar’

 

a aa

Peosatace

should be any danger, and ye’ll wake me up _

 
  

 

_ Seen any of ’em

any way by noon, so’t we kin git tew the
next settlement afore dark.”

Garvey promised that he would awaken
the party in due time, and then Simpkins
threw himself upon the floor. He slept very
soon, and only the breathing of the exhaust-
ed sleepers could be heard above the gentle
sighing of the forest without.

An hour passed, two, and only now and
then a faint moan from some of the sleepers,
as they moved uneasily; always followed
by a corresponding sigh from Sam ane.

“ Poor souls,” he.mused, pityingly. “It’s
tew bad for ’em tew hev’ sech a hard
run. ’Tain’t nothin’ for us rough ones, what
is used to Injins, tew hey’ a brush with ’em,
once in a while. But, jest sech chaps as
them, right from civilization, and used tew
livin’ peaceable lives, and few whar’ they’se
a mind tew—it’s tew bad they’ve had sech
atime. Lucky for’em they fell in with Sim,
or, I’m afeard they wouldn’t have come out
so well as they did.” i

He was proceeding with his mental solilo-
quy, when a low growl from the dogs with-
out drew his attention. He hastened to the
opening which served as a window, and
looked out. The animals were crouching
low beneath the aperture, and both had their
gaze fixed in the forest.

“That says Injins,’ remarked Sam, “if I
know myself. hat can the critters be
arter ?” ;

He called the dogs inside and barred: the
door. Before this operation was performed,
Sim Simpkins had taken the alarin, and was
upon his feet, beside his host.

“Ts it Injins?” he asked, in a whisper.

“So the dogs say,” replied Sam. “I hain’t
, and if tis, maybe they'll
go their own way and not disturb us”

“Possibly. But ye needn’t karkilate much

on that, cause it’s contrary jist now to Pawnee
Injin nater.” :
_ Garvey stepped to the wall and took down
his piece, which he reprimed, and slipped a
pair of pistols into his belt. Simpkins per-
formed the same office for himself, and then
cautiously took up the rifles of his compan-
ions, and renewed their priming. ;

By the time this was done, Garvey, who
had been upon the lookout, stepped near to
him and whispered:

“Ye kin see the red-jackets now, if it’s any
thing of a rarity tew ye.”

Simpkins stepped to the: window and
looked forth. In the edge of the forest, dis-
tant some seventy-five yards, could be seen
the forms of half a dozen savages, moving
hither and thither, evidently intent upon
making out the character of the strange
building before them.

The one-eyed hunter recognized them at a
glance as Pawnees, and communicated the
same to his companion.

“Then we’re in for one more brush with
the reds together,” Garvey remarked. “Tm
a’most glad of it; twill seem like old times.”

“ Here they are, on this side, too,” remark-

  
  
  

ed Simpkins. “The devils are about ready

to begin fightin’. Perhaps we'd better put

 

4

ONE-EYED SIM, THE HUNTER.

ourselves in shape, and see what we kin dew
toward openin’ the dance, particularly as
we're to be the fiddlers.”

“T don’t know as I owes’em much, on
my own account,” returned Sam. “I’ve
paid ’em up purty well, one time and an-
other. But these poor folks—the way they’ve
used them is too bad, and I don’t mind
takin’ off half a dozen of ’em, tew pay fer
that.”

“ Yis, and that ain’t all. Ye knowed Billy
Larkin, I take it.’

“Yis, I knowed him, and a good feller he
was.”

“Wal, the cusses hev’ finished him.”

And the tall scout preceeded to relate, in
a few words, the tragic death of his former
comrade. But, as the Indians were creeping
up, they had no time for conversation.

Frank, Mr. Leonard, and Alvin were awa-
kened, and briefly informed of the danger
which threatened them.

The cabin had been pierced with appro-
riate loop-holes upon all sides, so that the
ndians could not approach without subject-

ing themselves to the aim of the whites.
Upon all sides, to the distance of eight or ten
rods, the forest growth had been cleared
away, so that there was no cover under
which they could approach, The walls of
the building being composed of logs, were
quite bullet-proof, and there seemed but lit-
tle prospect of danger to the defenders.

 

CHAPTER XIII.
The Last Fight

Ir is contrary to the rules of Indian war-
fare to attack a place in broad daylight,
Any time during the night, or soon after
morning light, is considered much better, as
they will be more likely to effect a surprise
in such cases. But now the Indians had en-
countered this strange building, far from the
habitation of other whites, and they felt al-
most certain that their intended victims were
there. Feeling that they had already lost
too much time in the fruitless endeavor to
destroy this party, they concluded to make
an onset at once, and break in upon them if
any resistance should be offered, As there
were nearly two score warriors, they did not
for an instant doubt their ability to over-
power the white men without any material
loss upon their own part.

Half a dozen braves, who panted to dis-
tinguish themselves, were allowed to go on
in advance, and sound the disposition of
those they came to conquer. This was the
party whose approach called every man to
his post, and raised a question between the
two men who had not fought together in
many years.

“Shall we blaze away at the raskills ?”
asked Garvey. “We might as well, as tew
let em come any nearer.’

“Seems tew me these six ain’t sent for-
rard in this way, jest fer nothin’,” replied
Simpkins, “They can’t dew much, and

\

 

 

+ ie

 
 

THE FINAL STRUGGLE. 35

aybe we'd better let ’em work, jest keep
vur eye on’em, and see if suthin’ ain’t up
somewheres else.”

This they did; two men being stationed at
the loop-holes upon the side which the say-
ages were approaching, while the rest kept
a watch upon the other sides, to see that no
new movement was undertaken.

The six braves proved faithful, if not wise,
in the performance of their mission. Upon
gaining the door, which they were suffered
to do unmolested, one or two of them rapped
with the handles of their hatchets, and rat-
tled the latch, which had been effectually
fustened.

“What d’ye want?” demanded Garvey,
from within.

“Want to come in—want to see who’s
here!” returned the Indians, in tolerable
English.

“You can’t come in; there’s nobody in
here wants to see you,” was the response.

The six braves did not wait to parley.. In-
stantly upon receiving answer ‘they com-
menced a rapid hacking away, with their
tomahawks, intending to cut through the
door, and murder or make prisoners those
who had defied them.

Upon each side of the door was a loop-hole,
turning inward. Placing the muzzle of a
pistol through one of these, Garvey pulled
the trigger, There was a loud report, and a
yell. of pain from one of the Indians, who
caught the ball in his side.

Simpkins, also, fired at the assaulting
party, but failed to injure any of them. A
moment later the forms of five Pawnees
were seen dashing back to the forest like
deer, while the wounded one crawled away
more slowly, falling to the ground before he
reached his brethren.

So silently had all the preparations been con-
ducted thus far,that it was not till the first wea-
pon was discharged that Cora or her mother
awoke. Of course they were much frighten-
ed on finding that another contest with the
savages was about taking place, and they
wrung their hands in wild apprehension till
their fears were quieted by the men.

There was quiet among the Indians for
sometime after the braves returned from their
task, and the occupants really begun to think
that the attack would be delayed until dark,
or given over altogether. But the Indians
realized that they were getting too near the
borders to dally longer than was necessary.
Presently a movement was discerned from
the opposite direction, and something like a
dozen Indians rushed out, paused a moment,
then sought the nearest covers and begun
firing away.

The defenders crowded to that side, anx-
ious to return the fire, as the Indians were so
close that scarcely a shot could miss. But
Sim Simpkins bad fought Indians too often
to be deceived in that manner. He merely
said: ;

“Don’t fire a gun. We want ’em all
woaded. ‘This is only tew cover up somethin’
else. Keep a sharp lookout, and ye’ll find use

 

guns ready, and see that they don’t play any
tricks on yer.” :

As none wished to gainsay the veteran’s
word, they returned again to their positions,
and waited the appearance of any savage
forces from other quarters. —__

Presently a quick observation from Garvey,
who kept watch upon the inside of the door
announced that the savages had made their
appearance in that direction.

“ Here you feller,” said Sam, leading Frank
to one of the loop-hools. ‘‘ Stan’ thar’, and
when ye kin hit an Injin, without any fail,
blaze away.” * ;

Alvin and his father were each stationed at
a similar opening and like instructions given
them. Then Sam stepped to the side of his
friend.

“ You take keer of ’em this way, Sim,” he
said, “and we'll dew for’em with the log!”

Sim made no verbal answer, put pushed
his long rifle through a loop-hole, and as the
report sounded away through the forest an
Indian warrior sunk down in death.

The crack of rifles from within and with-
out was now deafening and constant. Just
what the old scouts had anticipated was
taking place. The Indians having made a
mock attack, and fired steadily, their com-
panions, to the number of twenty, had pro-
duced a long pole, quite heavy enough for its
purpose, and were rushing on to destroy the
door to the cabin. Of course the four men
stationed at that side greeted them with the
best of their skill. Yet the odds were great.

At the first discharge two of the warriors
fell, and by the time the defenders had re-
loaded their pieces they were fearfully close.
Three more went down before a close fire,
and as Frank Sherman had an extra gun, he
shot down another very speedily. There
was a momentary pause, fresh hands were
applied to the wooden ram, and then, amid
the fierce cracking of pistols and the fall of

 

one or two more braves, came the first shock, |

Simpkins had reloaded his rifle, and on see-
ing the state of affairs, sprung over to assist
his companions. Quickly pulling away the
bars and fastenings of the door, he raised the
lateh, saying to his confederates :

“Take the butts o’ yer guns if ye want tew
see fun !” d

They partially comprehended his intention,
and obeyed his bidding. As the rushing
tramp of the savages was heard, and just be-
fore their weapon struck the door, the hun-
ter swung it wide open.

The savages had intended a furious blow,
and as they met no resistence, the result may
be partially imagined. Scarcely one of the
whole number maintained his equilibrium.

Before they could recover themselves the —
whites were upon them, with vengeful yells, —

led on by the two veteran Indian-fighters. De-

pending solely upon the stocks of their rifles, .

the defenders struck right and left. So ut-
terly astounded were the Pawness, and so un-
looked for any such proceeding, that they
scarcely attempted resistance. Those who
could avoid the death-dealing blows, did so,

Ter yer powder some other way. Kerp yer | and fled for the woods with wild howls.

4

 

 

j

ta

 

 
86

The other parties, seeing or suspicioning
the turn affairs were taking, rushed on to assist
theirsuffering brethren. They were too late.
After a vain and foolish demonstration,
which cost the life of one of them, they all
returned to the woods, and a signal was

iven, calling the scattered members of the
and together.

The time was occupied by the white men
in reloading their pieces, and preparing in
general for further fighting. Save one or two
‘very slight wounds, none of the party had as
yet been disabled.

“Ye don’t s’pose they'll sneak off, and not
give us another pull at them?” demanded

rvey.

“No,” returned Simpkins ; “I think they’ll
come back ag’in, and the next thing they'll
a ‘TL be suthin’ yer’ most poorly prepared
for.

“What's that ?”

“Fire! Ye see they can stay back in ‘the
woods, and shoot their pesky arrers with fire
on ’em, and likely ‘nuff burn us out, arter all.”

“Dye think so?”

Sam Garvey walked to one corner of his
cabin and raised a curiously contrived sec-
tion of floor. This revealed a deep chasm,
answering in general appearance to a well.
He then produced a long pole, with a bucket
attached to the end, which he lowered, and
presently drew it up, filled with clear, cold
‘water. Silat

q “That don’t exactly look like bein’ tuk in
the upper j’ints,” he remarked. ‘ But, while
we have time, I guess we may as well wet
the ruff, fer I rather think they will try fire
next. Ye see my chimbley’s wide, and we
kin do it without bein’ seen. This here is
jest as handy as ye please.”

He produced a large gourd, with which
they could easily hurl a quantity of water
‘upon the roof, while standing upon the floor

‘of the cabin. In this manner they continued

% ‘to irrigate those portions which would be

most exposed in case the Indians should en-
deayor to fire the cabin, until one of the look-
outs announced that the savages were again
drawing near.

Final y the very thing which had been an-
ticipated came, in the shape of an arrow,
with a bundle of combustibles attached. — it

fell short, and smoked away upon the grouna
quite harmlessly.

‘A second was sent from the same bow,
with better results. It almost reached the roof,
but tumbled to the ground. The third, fol-
lowed by two more from other points, struck
the roof, but the thorough wetting it had re-
‘eeived at the hands of the inmates prevented

the fire from taking effect.

The whites now retaliated. Sim’s heavy
piece cracked first, and an Indian ‘fell, while
‘fitting an arrow to his bow. Garvey follow-
ed, anda savage whose head was protruding
trom behind a tree, closed his eyes to earthly
sights forever. Alvin and ‘Frank each miss-

‘THE

*

ONE-EYED SIM,

 

THE HUNTER.

ed their man, but sent a messenger near
enough to warn the red-skins of danger.
Mr. Leonard fired with deliberation, break-
ing an arm at which he aimed, and Sim’s
second gun sent a bullet through the body
of a fleeing brave.

The battle, the last and bloodiest, was
ended !

The Indians, such as remained, finding
themselves utterly unable to cope with the
whites, gathered up a few of their most noted
dead, and retired, wailing death-chants for
those who had fallen.

The inmates of the cabin were somewhat
suspicious that the absence was only tempo-
rary. But during the long hours of the af-
ternoon they watched in vain for any signs
of their return.

Night came on, and the best possible ar-
rangements were made to guard against an
attack. The dogs were placed on the. out-
side, with strict injunctions to keep a watch
for any intruder, while Sim Simpkins and
Sam Garvey divided the time in watching.
They hardly expected the night to pass
without some disturbance, but when morn-
ing light came all was yet silent.

After breakfast the entire party set out for
the next settlement, Sam Garvey insisting
upon bearing them company, and Sim Simp-
kings agreeing to return and spend a few days
with his old companion.

The journey was made in safety, and at
the village which they reached a company
was organized to resist the rumored advance
of the Indians. They were pleased at Sim’s
offer to guide them in pursuit of the savages,
and at once set out. But the braves seemed
satisfied with what they had failed to do,
and the party found none of them. The
bodies of the dead, which they had abandon-
ed in their haste, were buried, and the set-
tlers returned to their homes.

It was with moistened eyes that Sim Simp-
kins and the party he had saved parted.
Thanks and blessings without number were
pressed upon him, and Frank longed to ask
his pardon for the momentary doubts he had
entertained. ®

Luman Leonard and his family found an
opportunity to settle where they were, and
did so. Here they lived, and the last days of
the man were better, in some respects, than
the first.

Frank and Cora were married, of course,
as all true lovers should be, and lived happily,
relating to their children again and again the
story of their salvation by the oNE-BYED
HUNTER.

Sim Simpkins followed the woods for
many years, and finally, when old age was
drawing on, he came and settled down near
those he had once assisted so signally, and
before his brave spirit passed from earth they
found ample opportunities to repay the as-
sistance he had given them when a stranger
band in an unknown region.

END

 
 

 
 

 

 

 

In the coming issue of FRAvK STaRr’s American Novels, “Mammoth” Series ; I!umine
Covers—number 145, ready Tuesday, June 9th—lovers of Border Romance and Life in the Ti

Country will have a story to amuse, interest and delight, viz. ;:

OLD RUBE, THE HUNTER;

Leet

BY CAPTAIN

OR,

ous

¥

CROW OG ASET LN: he

HAMILTON HOLMES,

The Captain, @ well-known character in the Far West, writes as well as he rides and fights, and
readers soon see that he really “ knows what he is talking about ”—especially of the Orows, among
the sharpest, shrewdest and most unmitigated scamps of all the seven great tribes; and in Old Rube
we have a queer compound of hunter, guide, diplomat, spy and fighter. The beautiful Crow Cap
tive is worthy of all his efforts in her behalf, and becomes the center of deepest interest, in more
ways than one.

 

RECENT MAMMOTH STAR NOVELS:
No. 143—The Gulf Pirate; or, The Freebooters of the Mississippi. By Lieut-Col.

Hazeltine.

No, 142—The Texan Spy ; or, The Prairie Guide.
No, 141—The Black Horse of the Prairies,

No, 140—-Thayendanegea, the Terrible; or, The War-Exgle of the Mohawks. |

By Ned Buntiline.

No, 139-—The Fighting Trapper; or, Kit Carson to the Rescue.

inson.

No, 188—Kid Kerly, the Trapper; or, Nattie of the Woods. By Dr. J. H. Rob-

FRANK STARR’S AMERICAN NOVELS.

1—The Wood Rangers,
2—The Patriot Scouts.
3—Peleg Smith,

4—The Backwoodsmen.
5—The Phantom Chief.
6—The Prairie Trail,

%—The Black Scont,
8—Westward Bound.
9—Chinga, the Cheyenne.
10—Witch of the Wallowish.
11—The Young Pioneer,
12—The Beautiful Unknown.
13—The Jungle Scout,
14—The Steam Man of the Prairies,
15—The Red Foe.
16—Lew Wetzel, the Scont.
17-—-Kit Carson, the Guide.
18—Kill-B’ar, the Guide.
19—Buck Buckram.
20—Trapper Ben.

21—Canebrake Mose, ByERD Guide.

22—Old Lute, the Indian-Fighter.
23—The Prairie Pirates.

%—Red Claw,the One-eyed Trapper,

25—The Free Trappers.

26—The Border Scout.

27—The Bandit Hermit.
28—Keen-Eye, the Ranger.
29—Old Sol, the Giant Trapper.
80--Nick Gnarl, the Dwarf Guide.

31—Sib Cone,the Mountain Trapper.

32—The Specter Spy.

33—Tom Hawk, the Trailer.
34—The River Rifles.

35—The Renegade Chief,
86—Hank, the Guide.

87—White Slayer, the Avenger.
38—The Red Ranger.

89—The Forest Outlaw.
40—Red Jacket, the Huron,
41—Wild Raven, the Scont.
42—Tom Pintle, the Pilot.
43—The White Warrior.
44—Lone Star, the Texan Scont,
45—Ham, the Hunter,

46—The Hunter Guide,

47—Old Strategy.

 

48—Scarlet Moccasin.
49—Mad Anthony’s Scouts, ,
50—The Miner Rangers.
5i--The Cannibal Chief,
Bhe Skeleton Scout,
path

ih, the Trailer,

66—Cloudwood. .
67—Ruinbolt, the Ranger,
68—The Indian Scout.
69—The Phantom Hunter.
70—Tahle, the Trailer,
71—The Mad Miner.
72—Weptonomah,
"8—The Secret Slayer.
74—The Phantom Trail,
5—The Red Guide.
76—Rollo, the oy Ranger.
%%—Dusky Darrell,
%8—Lynx Cap.
79—The Red ae
80—The Heart-Hater.
81—Blue Belt, the Guide.
82—Montbars, the Scourge.
83—The Tangled Trail.
84— Wild Nat. i
85—The Boy rey
86—The Scalp King.
8%{—The Wolf-Queen.
88—The Boy Chief,

. The Squaw Guide.

. The Skull-Hunter,
91, The Red Wizard.
92, Delaware Tom,
93. The Girl Avenger,
94. The Wild Horseman,

Trapper.

 

95—Death-Dealer.

96—The Phantom Rider.

97--The Masked Spy

98-—-The Mad Trail-Hunter.

99 —Merciless Matt.

100-Red Ax, the Indian Giant,
101-The Forest Fiend.

102-Clyde, the Trailer.
103-Kenton, the Ranger.

104-The Hunter Hercules.
105-Star-Face, the Slayer.
106-Cortina, the Scourge.

107-The Texas Hawks.

108-The Yellow Hunter,

109-Little Rifle, the Boy Trapper.
110-Old Ruff, the Trapper.
111-Sharp-eye, Chief of the Sioux.
112-Phil Hunter, the Boy Scourge,
118-Mori, the Man-hunter,
114-The Dog Avenger.
115-Red-knife, the Wyandotte.
116-The Boy Pilot.

117-The Elk Demon,

118-Davy Crockett, Bear-hunter,
119-The Phantom Trailer,
120-Double-band, Dark Destroyer,
121-Moccasin Bill.

122-Frontier Shack.

123-Cato, the Creeper.

124-Outlaw Jack. j
125-Ratiling Dick, Mountain Outlaw, |
126- Silver Rifle, the Girl Trailer,
127-The Red Prophet.

128-The Antelope Boy.

129-The Specter Horseman,
130-Left Handed Pete.

131-The Squaw Spy.

132-The Branded Brave.

ee eter Jack.

134-The Witch Queen.
13°-Wolf-Cap.

186-The Red Hermitess,

137-Old Pegs, the Mountaineer,
138-Kid Kerly, the Trapper,

189, The Fighting Trapper.

140. Thayendanegea, the Terr ble,
141. Black Horse of the Prairies.

(G8 The above books are sold by all newsdealers; or sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt |

of price—TEN CENTS EACH.

FRANK STARR & CO., Publishers, 41 Platt St., N.Y,