Old Shadow Shot — page 28: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

26 with satisfaction when the ruffian’s absence was noticed. ‘Let me git up!” said a voice, which was more than half a groan. “By the fires of Tophet! I will git up! I am not dead!” He could speak no more, for his limbs refused to support his body longer—he had by a great effort raised himself on his hands —and with the last word, prolonged into a ery of pain, he fell back heavily upon the skins. But he was not dead. There was death in the hand that closed on the covering of the cot. The Apollo was destined to conquer the grim monster in the little cave. -« CHAPTER XV. NAT SINGS AGAIN. “KK WHO told you that I sing some- y V times ?” Nightingale Nat looked into the eyes of the girl who stood at his side. “You have forgotten, then, that I heard you,” was the answer. The boy was nonplussed. “Pardon me,” he murmured, blushing, “T have forgotten.” “Tt was upon that night when you were bound to the tree. Captain Dave was guided to your side by the song, and so was I.” “Ah, yes!” the boy laughed. “You will sing for me now. Our friends are not near enough to chide you, and I am sure that the foe is far away. Besides, you need not pitch your voice in a high key.” The gentle look of pleading that accom- panied the words was irresistible. Nightingale Nat sent his glance around, but saw no one. _ Five days had passed since the adventure on the cliffs. They were a goodly distance from the scene of Zimri Paddock’s doom—in a secluded part of the wilds of Wisconsin. Shadow-Shot and Gustin were hunting for Captain Rough, for reasons obvious to the attentive reader, and the youthful couple had promised to await their return. Gladly would the boy of the train sing for the fair girl. While she looked into his eyes, he lifted his voice in one of those free, wild songs, which he could sing with such simple pathos. Her cheeks glowed as he went on, and con- scious that her gaze was upon him, his face flushed, but not a note quayered. In the song the boy suddenly forgot himself, and lifting his voice to a key which he dearly loved, he sent the song far into the forest, till a thousand wonderful echoes came back from its depths. OLD SHADOW-SHOT, That loud singing might be dangerous eyen there ; but Violet forgot peril in her love for the song, and she did not interrupt it. When the boy concluded and looked into her face, she broke out in rapturous praise of the song and the singer. F “Shadow-Shot would scold me if he heard,” Nat said, with a smile. “Can’t you sing ?” “I would not attempt a song after such as yours!” she said, with a smile. “T cannot sing. I picked up the song in the city of Chicago.” The girl started. “T lived there once—I am sure I did!” “Shadow-Shot says that you came from Chicago with your father, Captain Collyer. But why did you leave your mother? That puzzles me.” , = my mother—what do you know about er?” “Not much.” “NorI. Sometimes I think—no, I cannot tell you what I think. I do not recollect anything about my mother. There was a woman who called me child sometimes, but she never kissed me. I know by this that she was not my mother. Father was never happy. J never saw him smile, and I have wondered if he ever smiled. There must have been some great cloud between him and my mother. But do not let me talk about this. Will you not sing again?” Sing again, and for her? The boy was willing to give her another song; but before he could make a selection from his repertory, the tramp of a cavalcade was heard, and he seized the rifle that leaned against a tree. “Tt is the old luck!” he exclaimed, glanc- ing at Violet. “I always sing the foe down upon me. Look!” The girl did look, and saw, despite the gloaming which was settling down upon the forest, the band of night-riders rapidly near- ing them. There was no escape. The eyes of the Vultures had descried the youthful pair. “They will not spare!” the boy said, through closed teeth, and there was deter- mination in his tone. ‘They are the fiends who attacked our train; they fell upon your father, girl, in these very woods. I will fight them. Go back! Fly quickly towards the cave. I will cover your retreat.” But Violet did not stir. “‘T will not desert you!” she said, firmly. “We are friends, and as such should stand by each Sher.” At this juncture the Vultures of the forest suddenly drew rein, and the voice of the foremost, a great, brutal-looking fellow, fell upon their ears. Com (EC) IGbooks