Beadle's Dime Novels No. 300: The Crested Serpent — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

vd me, SENOR LOPEZ IN TROUBLE. 45 She poured out more, then glided out of the chamber, and Senor Lopez was alone sipping his wine. : “ By the north pole, Senor Juan Augustino Lopez of the % Imperial Tigers, this is good wine. You must make this your > head-quarters so long as your gallant belone seca upon the Mountain. More wine, you old witch, you— | ¥ ee. strajn of music, slow and solemn, rose and died away. — “That sounds like a dirge. Can sie be a Lucretia Borgia ?” and his face grew ashy-pale, as he laughed : half- frightened augh, “ Carajo! more wine, old woman—” Again the solemn tones reverberated through the chamber, 4nd Lopez paused in alarm, He turned and uttered a ery of Orror, From the glittering rocks protruted the head of the rested Serpent. He rushed toward the entrance by which he had entered, and was met by a solid wall. He attempted lo climb, but fell back exhausted. The music rolled on in Solemn tones, and the serpent glided down until its flashing ’ Sides reflected the phosphorescent light from the chamber. €Z crouched in a corner, his face distorted with terror, - 8nd reached for his knife. It was gone. The music ceased Als sag tones, and rolled and thundered like the agonies of a €gendary demon, until the cavern seemed to shriek with - Pain, ~The serpent reared its head, and lashed its- long’ form | 48 if in a whirl of fury, then darted upon the trembling; _ “touching Mexican and wrapped him in its vise-like folds, — §8Nd they rolled and writhed upon the floor, a hideous mass. The following morning, with the last echo of the signal | bugle that came back from the distant mountain peaks, the “amp became all life and activity. The military routine was E0ne through with; fires flared up brightly, welcoming the ted Sun, and the duties of another day were entered upon. The Ticers had seen their new Jieutenant-colonel, and, al- thous) of savage natures and mixed races, they were well : Pleased with him, and wherever Hernando Vidal walked 2 “tiong them he mét with salutations of respect. After the meridian hour, Senor Vidal, Boussard and Murieta Were Seated in the grand marquee. The brown woman of Ai sandy plains, harp in hand, was singing snatches of Ara- dic songs, as she, in a haltailting posture, rested among da- Mask and crimson cushions. | : rae es} Comicbooks7com: a: ot te tent ae PU STE hy