Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Alarm: or, Doing His Best - Standish Burt L. - Страница 5

“Indians!” echoed Jack Diamond.

“Indians?” grunted Bruce Browning, astonished.

“O-oh, Lordy!” gasped Toots. “Dis am whar a nigger boy I know is gwan teh lose his scalp fo’ suah!”

“Turn!” commanded Frank – “turn to the left, and we’ll make a run to get back through the pass.”

But they were seen, and the redskins about the fire sprang to their feet with loud whoops.

At the first whoop Toots gave a howl and threw up both hands.

“Don’ yo’ shoot, good Mistar Injunses!” he shouted. “I’s jes’ a common brack nigger, an’ I ain’t no ’count nohow. Mah scalp wouldn’ be no good teh yo’ arter – ”

Then he took a header off his wobbling machine and fell directly before Jack, whose bicycle struck his body, and Diamond was hurled to the ground.

“Stop, fellows!” cried Merriwell. “We mustn’t run away and leave them! Come back here!”

From his wheel he leaped to the ground in a moment, running to Diamond’s side. Grasping Jack by the arm he exclaimed:

“Up, old fellow – up and onto your wheel! We may be able to get away now! We’ll make a bluff for it.”

But it was useless, for Jack was so stunned that he could not get on his feet, though he tried to do so.

Toots was stretched at full length on the ground, praying and begging the “good Injunses” not to bother with his scalp, saying the hair was so crooked that it was “no good nohow.”

Up came the redskins on a run and surrounded the boys, Bruce and Harry having turned back.

Browning assumed a defensive attitude, muttering:

“Well, if we’re in for a scrap, I’ll try to get a crack at one or two of these homely mugs before I’m polished off.”

There were seven of the Indians, and nearly all of them carried weapons in their hands. Although they were not in war paint, they were a decidedly ugly-looking gang, and their savage little eyes denoted anything but friendliness.

“Ugh!” grunted the tallest Indian of the party, an old fellow with a scarred and wrinkled face.

“Ugh! ugh! ugh!” grunted the others.

Then they stared at the boys and their bicycles, the latter seeming a great curiosity to them.

“Well, this is a scrolly old jape – I mean a jolly old scrape!” fluttered Rattleton. “We’re in for it!”

Toots looked up, saw the Indians, uttered another wild howl, and tried to bury his head in the sand, like an ostrich.

Frank singled out the tall Indian and spoke to him.

“How do you do?” he said.

“How,” returned the Indian, with dignity.

“Unfortunately we did not know you were here, or we should not have called,” explained Merriwell.

The savage nodded; the single black feather in his hair fluttering like a pennant as he did so.

“Um know,” he said. “Um see white boy heap much surprised.”

“Jee! he can talk United States!” muttered Rattleton.

“Talk it!” said Bruce, in disgust. “He can chew it, that’s all.”

“I trust we have not disturbed you,” said Frank, calmly; “and we will leave you in your glory as soon as my friend, who fell from his wheel, is able to mount and ride.”

“No, no!” quickly declared the tall Indian; “white boy no go ’way. Injun like um heap much.”

Browning lifted his cap and felt for his scalp.

“It may be my last opportunity to examine it,” he murmured.

“But we are in a hurry, and we can’t stop with you, however much we may desire to do so,” declared Frank, glibly. “You see we are on urgent business.”

“Yes, very urgent,” agreed Rattleton. “Smoly hoke – no, holy smoke! don’t I wish I were back to New Haven, New York, any old place!”

“White boys must stop,” said the big savage. “Black Feather say so, that settle um.”

“I am afraid it does,” confessed Browning.

Diamond got upon his feet, assisted by Frank.

“Well,” he said, somewhat bitterly, “that is what we have come to by failing to heed the warning we received!”

“Don’t go to croaking!” snapped Rattleton. “These Indians are peaceable. They are not on the war path.”

“But they are off the reservation,” said Frank, in a low tone; “and that is bad. They have us foul, and there is no telling what they may take a notion to do.”

“It’s pretty sure they’ll take a notion to do us,” sighed Harry.

The tall Indian, who had given his name as Black Feather, professed great friendliness, and, when the boys told him they had been looking for the water-hole, he said:

“Um water-hole dare by fire. Good water, heap much of it. Come, have all water um want.”

“Well, that is an inducement,” confessed Browning. “We may be able to get a square drink before we are scalped.”

It was with no small difficulty that Toots was forced to get up, and, after he was on his feet, he would look at first one Indian and then dodge, and look at another, each time gurgling:

“O-oh, Lord!”

And so, surrounded by the Indians, the boys moved over to the fire, which was near the water-hole, as Black Feather had declared.

“Well, we’ll all drink,” said Frank, as he produced his pocket cup and proceeded to fill it. “Here, fellows, take turns.”

While they were doing so the Indians were examining their bicycles with great curiosity. It was plain the savages had never before seen anything of the kind, and they were filled with astonishment and mystification. They grunted and jabbered, and then one of them decided to get on and try one of the wheels.

It happened that this one was the smallest, shortest-legged redskin of the lot, and he selected the machine with the highest frame.

“Ugh!” he grunted. “White boy ride two-wheel hoss, Injun him ride two-wheel hoss heap same. Watch Blue Wolf.”

“Yes,” said Browning, softly, nudging Merriwell in the ribs with his elbow, “watch Blue Wolf, and you will see him smash my bicycle. I sincerely hope he will break his confounded head at the same time!”

“White boy show Injun how um git on,” ordered Blue Wolf.

“Go ahead, Bruce,” directed Frank.

“Oh, thunder!” groaned the big fellow. “I’m so tired!”

But he was forced to show the Indians how he mounted the wheel, which he did, being dragged off almost as soon as he got astride the saddle.

“Ugh!” grunted Blue Wolf, with great satisfaction. “Um heap much easy. Watch Blue Wolf.”

“Yes, watch Blue Wolf!” repeated Browning. “It will be good as a circus! Oh, my poor bicycle!”

With no small difficulty the little Indian steadied the wheel, reaching forward to grasp the handlebars while standing behind it. The first time he lifted his foot to place it on the step he lost his balance and fell over with the machine.

The other Indians grunted, and Blue Wolf got up, saying something in his own language that seemed to make the atmosphere warmer than it was before.

The bicycle was lifted and held for the little Indian to make another trial. He looked as if he longed to kick it into a thousand pieces, but braced up, placed his foot on the step and made a wild leap for the saddle. He missed the saddle, struck astride the frame just back of the handlebars, uttered a wild howl of dismay, and went down in hopeless entanglement with the unfortunate machine.

“Wow!” howled Blue Wolf.

“Oh, my poor bicycle!” groaned Browning, once more.

The fallen redman kicked the bicycle into the air, but it promptly came down astride his neck and drove his nose into the dirt.

“Ugh!” grunted the watching Indians, solemnly.

“Whoop!” roared Blue Wolf, spitting out a mouthful of dirt.

Then he made another frantic attempt to cast the machine off, but it persisted in sticking to him in a wonderful manner. One of his arms was thrust through the spokes of the forward wheel to the shoulder, and as he tried to yank it out, the rear wheel spun around and one of the pedals gave him a terrific thump on the top of the head.

“Yah!” snarled the unlucky Indian.

“Two-wheel hoss kick a heap,” observed Black Feather.

Blue Wolf tried to struggle to his feet, but he was so entangled with the bicycle that it seemed to fling him down with astonishing violence.

Then as the noble red man kicked, and squirmed, and struggled, the bicycle danced and pranced upon his prostrate body like a thing of life.

“O-o-oh!” wailed Blue Wolf, in pain and fear.

Toots suddenly forgot his fears, and holding onto his side, he doubled up with a wild burst of “coon” laughter.

“Oh, land ob watermillions!” he shouted. “Dat bisuckle am knockin’ de stuffin’ out ob Mistah Injun! Yah! yah! yah! Lordy! lordy! ’Scuse meh, but I has ter laff if it costs me all de wool on mah haid!”

Browning folded his arms, a look of intense satisfaction on his face as he observed:

“I have made a discovery that will be worth millions of dollars to the government of the United States. Now I know a swift and sure way of settling the Indian question. Provide every Indian in the country with a bicycle, and there will be no Indians left in a week or two.”

“Gamlet’s host – I mean Hamlet’s ghost!” chuckled Rattleton, holding his hand over his mouth to keep from shrieking with laughter. “I never saw anything like that before!”

Merriwell sprang forward and assisted Blue Wolf in untangling himself from the wheel, fearing the bicycle would be utterly ruined.

The little Indian was badly done up. His face was cut and bleeding in several places, and he was covered with dirt. With some difficulty he got upon his feet, and then he backed away from the bicycle, at which he glared with an expression of great fear on his countenance.

“Heap bad medicine!” he observed.

It seemed that the other Indians were really amused, although they remained solemn and impassive.

“Give me hatchet!” Blue Wolf suddenly snarled. “Heap fix two-wheel hoss!”

He would have made a rush for the offending wheel, but Frank held up a hand warningly, crying:

“Beware, Blue Wolf! It is in truth bad medicine, and it will put a curse upon you if you do it harm. Your squaw will die of hunger before another moon, your children shall make food for the coyotes, and your bones shall bleach on the desert! Beware!”

Blue Wolf paused, dismay written on his face. He longed to smash the bicycle, but he was convinced that it was really “bad medicine,” and he was afraid to injure it.

“Say, that is great, old man!” enthusiastically whispered Rattleton in Merriwell’s ear. “Keep it up.”

“Blue Wolf not hurt two-wheel hoss,” declared Black Feather, who seemed to be the chief of the little band. “Want to see white boy ride.”

“Do you mean that you want me to ride?” asked Frank.

“Ugh!”

“All right,” said Frank. “I’ll show you how it is done.”

Then he motioned for the savages to stand aside.

“No try to run ’way,” warned Black Feather. “Injun shoot um.”

“All right, your royal jiblets. If I try to run away you may take a pop at me.”