Beadle's Dime Novels No. 127: Bald Eagle — page 68: what you’re looking at

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

70 BALD EAGLE. speed of the other, half in awe, also, of the strange steed and rider, which, in the dim light of the early morning, and in the shadow of overhanging rocks, wore a phantom-like aspect. White steed and white lady—streaming white mane and streaming white hair—might well suggest some fearful super- natural vision. Onward rushed the pair—onward rushed young Montagnie ; while down the rocky defile, not far in the rear, clattered the hoofs of another steed in hot pursuit. Scarcely had the horse- man breasted Montagnie, when the sharp ring of a bullet whizzed through the air, and Black Dick, on his black charger, clattered by, the feet of the horse striking fire at every touch of the flinty road. *. Montagnie spurred his horse to the utmost, for he saw the white phantom reel and fall—he saw the white horse fling it- sclf with heavy leaps adown the cavernous way, and the black charger press onward with an equal speed. Forgetful of his proximity to the fort, Montagnie dashed headlong. Black Dick was evidently expected, but our hero heeded not the challenge of the sentinel, nor the crack of musketry, he saw only a white writhing mass upon the high- way, and the blood gushing over the white hair. He reined in-his horse; springing to the ground, he lifted the poor head from the dust, and laid it upon his knee, but the features were distorted with pain, and the small hand pressed upon the chest, could not hold back the crimson flood. Slowly the violet eyes unclosed, and looked around. “Where is the Bald Eagle?” she asked. “Ah, I remem- ber; he is gone, and, Mequa, tell him— | ‘* T saw the white steed riderless Come dashing o’er the plain—” She sang-the lines smilingly. | “Something hurts,” she cried, and then, with a slight gasp, her head fell down, halt hidden in the white masses of her hair. “Poor girl! dead, dead!” sighed Montagnie, gazing into the face, which already began to Wear a serene ead holy look. Filled with emotion, he followed, mechanically, the body into the fort, scarcely conscious that he was himself a comiclbooks.conhn