Death-Dealer, the Shawnee Scourge; or The Wizard of the Cliffs

by Arthur L. Meserve

The scout had never fancied the voice of the Yankee or what he had to offer; but now it was real music to his ears, for it told him that his fears were groundless, and that his friends were yet alive.

He stood motionless trying to catch what might be said in answer to this complaint on his part, but the rest of the captives were silent.

“Have all of ye lost yer tongues?” he exclaimed, a minute later, “and ain’t ye got any appetite? I declare I’m as hungry as a mill-saw. Say, Mister Red-skin, ain’t you going to share that ’ere meat with us? Do the fair thing by us, and I’ll give ye a good trade arterwards. I’ve got some ’tarnel nice things in my pack, jest what you want for yer wives and sweethearts. It’ll make their eyes stick out to see the ribbons and beads I’ve got. Be kinder naberly now and give us a hunk of that. I swan it makes my mouth water to look at it.”

“How can you think of eating, when you know not but what this may be the last hour we’ve got to live?” said the voice of Sam Wilson. “From what the chief said when he parted us from Ruth, I do not think that they mean for us to see the light of morning. I wish that we had died fighting for our lives when they first came upon us, instead of trusting to the promise of a savage. Ruth, then, would at least have died with us, and so been saved from a fate far worse than death.”

A sob of anguish from the lip of a woman, told the scout how the heart of Mrs. Wilson was torn with fears for her child.

“Now you don’t really believe they mean to kill us, do ye?” cried the Yankee. “I guess if wuss comes to wuss, I kin hire ’em not to. I believe if I had a chance to show ’em what there is in my pack, I could bribe ’em to let us go. But I declare if I was going to be killed I should rather have the job done on a full stomach. Oh, dear! why in creation did I ever come out into this heathen country. I shall be ruined, I know I shall, afore I get out of it.”

“And I hope you will, you ’tarnal fool,” muttered the scout to himself. “At any rate, I hope that pack of his will go under. I do believe he’d rather see ’em all murdered than to lose that.”

The wish of the Yankee was gratified at length. After eating their fill, the savages offered a portion of what was left to the captives. Mrs. Wilson could not touch a morsel, and her husband and Ned partook but sparingly. But the Yankee made up for them. He ate all that was offered him, the moment his hands were set at liberty so that he could do so, and begged that which they refused. When at last he was through he declared that he felt better, and that if any of them wanted to trade, he was ready for them. But for this the savages were not apparently inclined, and his arms were at once secured behind him in the same manner as before, much to his discontent and disgust, especially when he saw one of the savages lay hands upon his pack, and bringing it close to the fire, undo it, and begin to display its contents to his comrades.

In vain it was that he called upon them to desist. They were deaf to his entreaties, and when at length his voice was raised to a high pitch, one of the savages sprung from the earth, and grasping his tomahawk, he whirled it about his head, threatening him with instant death if he made again the slightest sound.

After this the agony of the Yankee was ludicrous to behold. He dared not speak, and as he saw his treasures one after another in the hands of the savages, there was the most doleful expression upon his face imaginable. Of his own safety and that of his companions he gave not a thought. He could think of nothing but the financial ruin to which he would be subjected, did he lose his stock in trade, as he was apparently about to do.