The Secret Shot; Or, The Rivals Of Misty Mount — page 10: what you’re looking at

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8 THE SECRET SHOT. “Pardon me if I venture to agree with your son,” said Cleaveland, turning to Mr. Gwin. “I have been much with the In- dians, and do not speak in ignorance of their character when I say that vengeance is their ruling passion, before which all others, good or eyil, sink into insignificance. The savage casts aside all friendships in the heat of his vendetta, as the serpent casts his skin. His monomania is revenge. I should be guarded and watchful of this Wandalo. He may be dangerous and false as—””’ “As a Tory,” interrupted Walter, laugh- ing. “That will do,” said the colonel, with a smile. “And now, in return ‘for my diag- nosis of the red-skin, what do you make of the genus Tory, captain ?” “Well, let me see. Really— it is a beast of the masculine gender exclusiyely—spite- ful in the extreme—vicious—dangerous— there! I give up the subject, as beyond my comprehension.” “ Perhaps Colonel Cleaveland can give a better definition,” suggested Ida, much amused at her brother’s failure. “T should say,’ was the reply, “that a Tory is one who has his head in England and his body in America, and should, there- fore, have his neck stretched. Good-by !” And, wheeling his steed abruptly, he spurred away in the midst of the general laugh at his blunt definition. “Come again,” cried old Godfrey, after the retreating horseman, and Ida could not forbear waving her handkerchief. * The officer turned, took off his hat, bowed thankfully, and continued his course. They watched him galloping down the long road till he was lost in the dwindling distance. “A handsome fellow,” observed the old gentleman. “So say I,” said Walter. “ What think you, Ida? Bless me, how you are blush- ing.” The lady turned away her head, for she felt the warm blood tinging her cheek. “Don’t be ashamed, my little heiress,” continued her brother, merrily. “The sub- ject of your thoughts is well worthy—” “What do you know of the subject of my. thoughts, you saucy fellow?” retorted his sister, with a playfully offended air. “J would also have you know, sir, that I am not an heiress, as if the whole of Misty Mount were one day to be mine, when papa is so hale and strong, and when a great fellow like you ig to come in for the lion’s share.” “Don’t be alarmed, pet,” said her brother, laughing. “I may not be in the way so long as you think. A soldiez’s lease of life is an uncertain one.” These words had barely left the young man’s lips when the sharp, though distant report of a rifle was heard. The captain sprung from his seat very quickly, but im- mediately sunk down on the floor of the porch. “What is the matter, man?’ exclaimed the old man, in amaze. There was no answer but a groan. “My God!” gasped Ida, “he is wounded —Walter is wounded !”” She threw herself on her knees at his side, in an agony of grief; while, for a brief instant, the old man did not move. The whole thing had happened so quickly, suddenly, that his mind was momentarily paralyzed. But the next instant he was kneeling by his prostrate son. “Walter, Walter! It can not be! Look up, my boy, look up to your father !” The young man opened his eyes languidly. A. faint smile brightened over his lips for a second or two; then his head sunk back, his eyes closed again, his jaw fell—and Ida Gwin was indeed an _heiress—the sole heiress of the princely mansion and the broad, rich acres of Misty Mount. The dead man’s hand, which had been neryously pressed to his heart, slipped loosely away as the head dropped back, and his white shirt and yest immediately began to crim- son with the oozing blood beneath. The old man tore the bosom bare, and there was the wound—the little, round, deadly hole of the rifle-bullet, straight through the center of the now motionless heart. - It would be idle to attempt to portray, in fitting language, the anguish that fell upon the household at this sudden and terrible stroke. Therefore, let us draw the yail over their sacred grief. The news of this cowardly murder spread consternation.and sorrow through the entire valley, for the victim was universally be- loved. No effort was spared to bring the unknown assassin to justice; but without avail. The doer of the deed was not found. Not eyen the smoke of the deadly rifle had been seen. Only its distant report had been heard—from what direction none could re- member. And the mourning relatives and their friends were left in a cloud of doubt Comicbooksnco