Beadle's Dime Novels No. 142: The Sagamore of Saco — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

44 THE SILENT HUNTER. had left it, and never been seen until one memorable ocea- hereafter to be described, when the negroes said they saw him Jurking about the premises. A terrible murder had been per- ted about the time of his dis- appearance. An inoffensive Dutch settier, with a very pretty wife and ebild, and ing, it was well known, considerable wealth, had been murdered near his home down by Wheeling, and his ~ 3 house fired, and his wealth, family and furniture destroyed with it. e fire was so tremendous in its efiect, that when there came neigh- bors from the nearest station, it ' was reduced to a pile of ashes, and was ever after left a memento of a terrible and mysterious tra- oy know better than you,” said the girl, after a pause, ‘‘that he will not come to-night. His beauty will not be here.”’ “T reckon not; it ain’t likely: the boys ain’t up yar yet, and I don’t conclude one or tz will like to go down to Crow’s Nest. Har- ain’t no chicken, I know. He'll fit.”’ “Of course he will, and I hope he'll kill the wretclies. What does he want with this work? She is to be his wife—”’ ‘* Wake snakes and walk chalks, my pretty Kate,” said the ugly innkeeper; ‘‘ not so sure—’’ “What mean you?’ exclaimed the girl called Kate, clutching his arm. ** Well, don’t be so raspish. It seems she don't convene to him as much as she used; she’s bag once or ay a she a ce break away, but she’s riled hin aie Howsomdever, he knows she don’t like him.” ‘Why, then, will he persecute her? Why will he notieire her up? He must be meaner and baser than an Indian.” “You women is so mighty omg She’s rich, and my! ain’t iful—sich eyes, and sicha Regi skin; she’s about the emartest gal in these parts.” ““Raiph Regin,” said the girl, advancing close to him, *“ what is the meaning of all this? Why am I tortured thus? Did you notsay she never should be his, and that I should be his wife? Speak, I ask ou?” “Don’t hollo! TI ain’t deaf; I wish I was. Lor! a catamount’s nothin’ toa’ooman. Well, I did say so, and the mole-eyed varmint shall, tu. I’ve sot him a riddle. S’pose I say s’poSe ”—and the fel- low Igughed—‘‘s’pose some few of Injins war to be afore them spekilators, eh ?”” “What mean you? Give her up to the bloodthirsty red-skins ?”’ “You're mighty pertiklar, you are. But they ain’t toe kill her— not by no means. She'll fetch ten thousand dollars, she will, and no mistake ; and I go halves.” 5 ‘** But what is the use of all this ? He'll be angry, and that will not serve me.” “Kate, now du tell, what on airth makes you like that var- mint?” said the other, imploring- ly. “ aie Regin—for I can not and will not call you father—will you ask why the wind shakes yon- der trees? Will you tell me why the panther will come to one par- ticular place to clutch his prey despite all danger? Will you ted me why the bird clings to its mate, and the chicken runs to seek shelter near its mother? I can not—I only know that I love him. He is a bad man—a bold, bad man—but I knew not this at fifteen; and then he said soft words to me, and his eyes looked love, and he smiled, and his voice was gentle, and—and—I loved him. What then that I know he loves another—that he would wed her, and not me? I can not alter it. I hate and love him both. Now leve is uppermost; but hate may be one day, and then—” ‘What then?’ sneered Ralph commcooox<s.conn a, “e x : ee ee