Wildcat Bob, the Boss Bruiser — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

—— of mounted cavalry, twenty-five in num- and headed by a Lieutenant of Horse, dashed suddeniy down before the doors of the ** Spread Eagio” saloon, and drew rein. ol. Tupper’ immediately filled the doorway with his picthoric form, and demanded to know what was wanted, to which the lieutenant re- * } am in pursuit of a wife-murderer, whom I have followed here from Denver, and i demand that you deliver him over into custody.” ** Exactly !" said the worthy coionel, throwing all the pomposity and hauteur ible into his ition, ‘‘but would you beso kind as to men- the name of the man you seek?” “Certainly. His name ® Robert Beecher, and we have a warrant for bis arrest for the murder of his wife, in St. Louis, three years ago. He has been repeatedly trapped by us, but has always managed to slip away. I think we've got him sure, now, however!” ** I think not!” replied Col. Tupper. ‘‘I have no man here by that name.” “That makes no.diiference,” replied the offi- cer, with a mocking smile. ‘‘ You have a dis- tinguished bruiser here called Wildcat Bob, and Wildcat Bob and Robert Beecher are one. Men, surround the—” “Hold!” cried the young pugilist, springing into the doorway, a cocked revoiver in either hand, ‘‘ Vl settle this affair. Lientenant Per- ton, lam here. You have hounded me from’ place to place, because you wish to take some one fora crime I did not do, and you had just as lief take me as the real murderer. Pull Me pie? times have I told you I am innoceni, but all to no avail. Now, then, I am tired of this. The first man who offers to lay a hand on me, I will shoot through the heart!” CHAPTER VII. TRACKING THE RUNAWAYS. Wuewn Cherles Seton swooned and fell to the floor of his library, the hidcous face was with- drawn from the owner of that face fled shrieking off into the “is hours went drearily by, and Mrs. | Seton crouched at the hearth of the kitchen fire, and anxiously waited for her daughter’s return. But she came not, and the ne of the glass door, and the | Sigs & poor mother grew more and more distressed, | until finally she could bear the loneliness that | had crept over the mansion no longer; and rising, she tiptoed her way to the library door, and peered into the silent apartment. Th the carpet lay outstretched the form of her hus- band, still and white. She uttered a scream ef rere on | alarm and sprang to his side. Kneeling by him | she raised !1is ead into ha@glap. His teeth were | tightly set, and an awful gallor was on his con- tracted features. Was he dead? No! his pulse still beat faintly, as also did his heart. Instantly she flew beck into the kitchen, and procuring water dashed it into his face. A few | moments passed; then he gave a convulsive | Pe Tn his vt ba ane sat up. “Ugh!” he grated, wiping his face, and star- | a a pg doubtfuily. en his mind seemed to revert to the horri- | “ble face ho had seen at the window-door, for he ced that way trembling in every joint. “Where is it? he gasped, rubbing his cyes to | make sure that it had really disappeared— | “ where is it?” “Where is what, dear?’ asked Mrs. Seton, ing back his disheveled hair. you mean’ “The face—the horrible face!” he groaned, covering his own face with his hands. ‘‘Oh! God spirit from the other world come back to haunt me and drive me mad!” I know whatit was. "Twas a phantom—a | | fools, they shail not escape punishment, I can The New York Library. ~*- er i, ee: ** *Tis false! I am not!” exclaimed Mrs. Seton, | bursting into tears. ‘‘I knew no more of their | intimacy than you did yourself.” ‘* Pish!” sneered the husband, contemptuously ; ‘*T wouldn’t believe you under oath, you old she-wretch. Get out of my sight, before I give ii the toe of my boot.. To-morrow I will fol- ow the maneuvering fools, and if they see sun- sot, alive, it shall not be my fault!” **Oh! Charles! Charles! you would not harm our child—our Amber?’ “Wouldn't 12 Well now we'll see about it. No child or woman of mine shall play under- hand tricks on me, and come out well, li assure you. Now, go!” Sobbing as if her heart would break, Mrs, Seton oboyed, and the angry Jand-agent was left to himself and his own savage thoughts. All night he paced up and down the room like a caged lion. As soon as it was barely light he went up to his room, and attired himself carefully for a long ride. ‘These will do the business!” he nsattered, taking a pair of handsomely-mounted revolvers from his bureau drawer and slipping them into a belt he had buckled about his waist. ‘ll be cursed if I don’t make it hot for the young fools to pay for this trouble!” fter equipping himself satisfactorily, he de- scended to the kitchen, where he found Mrs. Seton preparing breakfast. ‘* You will wait to eat?’ she said, inquiringly, | as he entered. **No,” he growled, “I want nothing. I am going, now, and shall not come back till I get through with this runaway business. There, there, none of your sniveling. Get me my rifle, and, mind you, be quick about it!” She obeyed, and fetched outa superb sporting rifle from a closet behind the a He took it, and was pawn Beh behind his back when there caine a heavy knock at the door. Mrs. Seton opened it, half expecting to see her child, but in this she was doomed to disap- pointment. Major Bloodgood was standing on the threshold, a pleasant smile on his jovial countenance. ‘‘ Good-morning,” he said, raising his polished beaver, politely. “Is the gentleman of the house about?” Charles Seton stepped forward. _ “Yes, I am here,” he said, in a cold, harsh tone. , What do you want of me, may I in- a “ Well, th-the fact is,” began the major, with some hesitation, ‘‘ I thought I would drop over and ask you if you have the least idea what has become of my son, Thorpe?’ “‘ Certainly not!’ was the haughty reply. ‘‘I do not make it a point to meddle with other people’s affairs; therefore I am not aware of the present whereabouts of your son. In turn, I might as well ask you: have you the least idea what has become of my daughter, Amber?’ ** Certainly not!” retorted the major, good- humoredly; ‘‘ not the least, sir. But it is my opinion that my son and your daughter have taken the same trail, wherever they are. Yes, i. 80, jes’ so—they have skedaddled together. fa! ha! ha!” And the major laughed as if it were a ennjoy- able escapade. Charles Seton did not laugh, however; but, instead of a laugh, a curse issued from between his set teeth. “‘T see nothing to langh about!” he growled, | sulleniy. * What do | | ed the major. an Mrs, Seton, at a loss to | “My dear—” comprehcud. But he intérrupted her by push- | ing her rudely to one side, and leaping to his | feet. Going to the door he opened it and peered out into the dark, wet night. Way down across the slope he could see the ts in the settlement, but a single glance sat- him that the owner of that hideous face, whether it be human or ghostly, had gone. ‘What time is it?’ he asked, turning back into the library and glancing at the little clock that ticked noisily on the mantel shelf. “‘ What! can is be possible that it is midnight?” “Yes, it is ¢ that hour,” replied Mrs. Seton, “for this clock is half’ an hour slow, Charles Seton uttered a curse. Pe girl,” ne growled; ‘has she returned ** No, Charles, she has not. I have been worry- ing about her, and cannot imagine what keeps her. Como to tlink, there’s a bail at the villa to-night, but I should not think Amber w g°, thero—” d | ‘Nor do Isee anything to cry over,” nd- ‘IT never make it a practice to cry over spilt milk!” **No; Ishould say not. Well, as for me, Ido not believe in disobedience; and if I catch the promise you. Now, have you said ail you wish? for, if you have, I must bring this interview to a clese. I am abous to set out on the track of the runaways.” “Not quite ell,” replied the major, coolly. “‘ Tf you should see my son, I have a letter here, I wish you would delivér to him.” He placed a sealed envelope in the land-agent’s strode to- hands, and then wheeled about and ward his own mansion. Cherles Seton glared after him for a few mo- / ments, with a terrible blaze in his blood-shot no!” thundered the land-agent, angri- | eyes. Then he thrust the letter into his pocket, and left the house on his way to the corral in the rear. In ten minutes he had mounted his horse, and was galloping toward the settlement. “ty fi know whet is in this letter, now!” he muttered, when he was out of sight of the ma- jor’s house. ‘‘ Maybe it will throw some light on the subject; at least, it won’t do no harm for me to read it.” Deliberately he tore off the end of the envelope, and took out a folded sheet of paper. Thisis what the schemer said: “Thorrr:—Say nothing of what we know, when this is given you. Mas. B.”’ That was all, but it was enough to cause , es he paced up and down the long apart- | er : 5. | Charles Seton's face to flame with a terrible fer- ** There’s not whore she’s gone; of course not. | ocit rage. Sho’s run off with that accursed whelp, Thorpe They know!” he bi his lip sav- , ish agely, “ and now, I Sudesh fib Somehanniny d, and you're to blame far it” ai on m Curse the fatality that brought them here. But, let that ~ are here, now, and I shall watch of them. My first plan of action will be to kill this young rascal who has enticed my girl away. I know pretty well where they are, the fools, though I would not admit it to Bloodgood. ‘** Seven or eight miles eastward is an island in a pond, cafled McVeigh’s Frog Paradise by the old trappers. On that island resides old Pierre Sault, a Canadian priest, and they have gone te him for his services, The girl knows him, for she has been there many times. While they are there, with a band of armed men I'll pounce down upon them, and make ita tad job for them, or I’m a lar.” : In a short time the land-agent reached the set- ticment, and drew rein before a quoi} groune, where some half-a-dozen loafers were lounging, | watching two of their company pitching quoits. Charles Seton was not a popular men amcng the rough, unsettled class that made up the pop- ulation of Harper's but, in consequence of his wealth, and from the fact that he controlled much of the Jand about the settlement, he was. held in awe, more than respect, _ All the Harperites had a passion for money, if it did not require manual labor to procure it, | and they well knew that when the haughty lend- agent deigned to seek their presence, it was for | @ herons tae it meent money in their pockets. s he rode up, the game stopped, and all eyes were turned upon him. ‘Is Jim Bings here?’ he asked, scanning the crowd keenly. ‘* Here Lam, Mister Seton,” replied a squeaky voice, and a little Lbow-legged old fellow rose from the green. ‘D’ye want anything o’ me, sar?” “Yes, Bings, [ have need of your services; also, I want a few ready mento accompany me, who can fight end are willing to work for their money. Do you know of any?” ‘yar! hyar!” spoke up the loungers, quick- ly. “We'll go wi ye! we're yer pindanne ' We'll work dog cheap.” “Very well. Hurry up and arm yonrselves, and mount your horses, and I'll make it worth your while if you will help me,” Jim Bings and the whole crowd instant! dispersed, and Charles Seton turned his hoes head toward the village. Here, dismounting, he entered the bar-room and called for liquor. ‘* How long since you saw Thorpe Bloodgood about?” he asked, after gulping down a glass of the fiery stimulant, and paying for it. Helmew that young Bloodgood often came down to the village, and was a friend of Johnny Keese, the bartender; therefore, the question. _ “ Yesterday, I believe,” replied Johnny, rek- ing ag cash; “yesterday, just before dusk. yt ‘Oh, nothing much. Didn’t hear him say nity rig Pato going, eh?” | “*No; he very rarely tells me his secre | know. Racking for him?’ en ‘*Well, y-e-s; that is, I should like to know whero he has gone. Reckon I know about where he is, though.” | | ‘ m | ' ° - ‘* Where? Over to old Pierre Seult’s?” ec Yes. ” “* Well, perhaps he is. I don’t know anything about it, ['m sure.” At this juncture Jim Bings and sevefi of his: associates came galloping up, and seeing the land-agent inside the barroom they all come scrambling in, pell-mell, and ranged themselves. alon oem Po bar. es ¢ bug- juice fer mine,” said Bings, un- blushingly, and tho land-agent was compiled t order out the bottie. 24 pata rigs Ay After all had satisfied their appetites, the or- der was given to mount, and in a short time the cavalcade, headed by Charles Seton, were om their way toward McVeigh’s Frog Paradice, As they mors along the lend-agent meade known to Bings ithe plan he had in view. He proposed to make a dash into the pord and swim the horses to the island, when the inmutes of the priest’s cabin would be at their mercy. Charles Seton intended to show no merey to his daughter. He was a purely selfisk. men. and would let no obstacle stand hat fh path that was dangerous, when money or weapon could re- move it. And Amber Seton, the wife of young sta «5 egg or 7 the mistress of bit rets, wou xe extreme b schemer told himself, ee sh pact be silenced. vo hours’ swift ride over a rough and rocky rtion of country brought them ar a shee o owland, where lay a pond of sluggish water, two or t acres in extent. Three sides were locked by a belt of timber, while on the fourth a large nip Ba stretched off for miles. In the depths of this marsh, which was den gerous to enter on account of the treacher- ous quickeands, innumerable armies of bulk frogs croaked day in and day out all the year Hence, the name applied b trappers : MeVeigh’s ‘Frog : rac iigd io the commer of pin Bean was an island of about half acre, on which was built a substan Here resided the old Ca, pls and priest, Pierre Sault, to whem m 200k 2 ae ¥ a ae a ee be alt