THE LUCKLESS TRAPPER;
OR,
THE HAUNTED HUNTER
BY WILLIAM R. EYSTER,
Author of "Wild Nat" (Pocket Novel 21.)
Vol. V.
NOVEMBER 11, 1876.
No. 62.
NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
FRANK STARR & CO.,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
THE HAUNTED HUNTER;
OR,
BILL BLAZE, THE LUCKLESS TRAPPER
CHAPTER I.
A CORPSE IN THE STREAM.
There is a peculiar hiss when a rifle-ball passes in close proximity toone's head, a sound that no doubt chords with some musical note, yetupon most ears the noise is apt to fall rather unpleasantly. So thetrapper, though thoroughly seasoned to danger and the thousand chancesand mischances of the bush and plain, dodged his head suddenly, witha movement more energetic than graceful, at the same time uttering,though not above a whisper, an ejaculation of surprise and discontent.In the midst of his reconnoitering it seemed to him that he had beenreconnoitered, and that to some purpose. There was danger in theatmosphere.
Carefully he peered around him. He caught no sight of the hand that hadfired the shot; he could see nothing and could hear nothing that gavesign of hostile intentions. Through the bushes that were spread beforehim like a curtain he anxiously gazed, with one hand pushing them aside.
"Where the dickins c'u'd that 'a' come from," he muttered. "Some onehez hed a line shot on this hyer old hoss an' cum mighty nigh a-sendin'him under. Ef I could only git a site at the varmint ther'd be a caseo' suddint death, sure—ah!"
The soliloquy ceased, for on the small level spot on the opposite sideof the stream, standing out bold and full in the clear moonlight, thereappeared two men. The distance was not great, their actions evinced noknowledge that any other human being was near them, and as they brokeinto conversation every word they spoke was wafted distinctly to theears of the listener who lay concealed in the close hanging bushes.
One of these two men was tall and shapely in build. His form gave tokenof strength and activity, while the moonbeams that fell upon his facelit up a countenance that was more than ordinarily handsome. One handrested upon the muzzle-end of a heavy rifle, the other was extendedin a shunning gesture, the palm outward as if waving back the man whofaced him.
The other was, if any thing, shorter in stature, but made up for anylack of hight in breadth of build. His shoulders were almost Herculeanin shape, his hands were large, his neck thick and powerful—altogetherhis appearance promised strength rather than activity. His face couldscarcely be distinguished, but even in the shadow one could fancifullymap out a countenance indicative of boldness and resolution.
Thus the two stood in the moonlight, scarcely three yards apart andfacing each other.
"You're quick on the trigger," said the short man; "and if it had beendaylight I might have gone under. I'm not one to bear malice, thoughit's a rough old joke to be shot at. If I was some men you'd not bestanding now."
"I know it. Yet daylight or dark, if I had not discovered my mistakein time, I should have been standing and you down. As I pulled thetrigger I raised the barrel for I saw it was the wrong man. The rightone is near me somewh