Beadle's Dime Novels No. 310: Foghorn Phil — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

THE SPECTER HEAD. 15 ous for the animals, while the wolves, half-buried at each bound, came tumbling and plunging on with a desperation that attested their hungering ferocity. For hours the two siorm-riders pressed on, and at length the fury of the storm began to abate. The sky, although still overcast with fleecy, white clouds, grew lighter and the snow fell sparse and fine. But now the wind became biting cold, and seemed to pierce through the heavy furs of the woman, driving all hope and strength from her heart. In tones of despair she again speiks. “Herman,” she said, “I can never survive this night. I am perisbing with cold and fatigue.” This appeal seemed to touch the hitherto stony heart of ‘the man, and he replied : ‘Cheer up a little while longer, dear Camilla. Let us trust to Heaven. The storm is already breaking away.” A minute afterward the snow ceased to fall; the clouds overbead parted, and the great, round moon looked down to earth, that now lay wrapped in its mantle of white. As they galloped on, a dark object on tlie spotless snow at the left, suddenly caught the eye of Camilla. A cry arose to her lips—a cry of strange horror, for she saw that the object was a buman head—the head of aman set upright upon the snow! The face was turned toward Wer, aid ils great eyes stared up at her face, and the features seemingly possessed of life, struck a strange numbness into her very heart. What did it mean ?—a human héad there, bolt upright upon the white, glistening snow—a head whose face she had seen before ! Thus Camilla questioned her own mind, but before she could conceive any definite answer, or even give a second glance at the mysterious object, that now loomed up before her vision like the Sphinx, they had galloped apast it—on to- ward the Hills. And then the clouds overhead had shut to- gether and struck out the light of the moon, and the snow began to whirl through the air again. Still on went the storm-riders, and still on, close behind, pressed that pack of ravenous beasts. At length the dark wooded pass of Panther Mountain is reached, and into its shadowy depths glide the twain. Comicoooks.com