Beadle's Dime Novels No. 316: Hurricane Bill — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

A HORBIBLE SCENE, i yells, the clattering of hegses’ hoofs, and accompanied by a loud report as he aimed at Hurricane Bil). A clap of tbhun- der appeared to shake the rock hills to their very foundations, and a sheet of smoke vuiled the Jedve above. Then, set in motion by sturdy, nervous arms, the jagged bowlders thun- dered down the almost perpendicular sides of the pass with resistless force, raising a thick fog of dust and chalky parti- cles that effectually shrouded the horrible scene below. But it could not cover the wild shrieks of mortal pain and terror that rose Upon the air. 7 Then came the rapid, sharp detonations that can come only from a revolver, and a wild curse of. rage broke from Bluck Guarcia’s lips as he found it came from the open ground beyond. He yelled to his men to follow him, and then recklessly descended the side of the pass by means of the rude steps. But before he could reach level ground, the firing had ceased, and as he rushed toward the rock-bridge, he saw that it was occupied only by the dead or dying. And, just disap- pearing around the point were the forms of two horsemen. Raving like a baffled tiger, Black Garcia ordered a dozen of his men to press’on in pursuit, nor to return joc owe bringing jn the scalps of the daring plainsmen. With the others, he turned toward the pass. It was a horrible, sickening sight that met his gaze—but his fiendish heart exulted in it. The dust cloud had lifted on the air. The forms of men and horses lay thick in the pass, Jying still and motionless in death, or else writhing in acute agony. The blood-siuined bowlders that almost choked up the pass had done. their work thoroughly. Nearly all of the rescuing party had been — stricken down by these terrible missiles. With a devilish smile the mountain Outlaw contemplated his work, A cry of bitter rage directed his gaze toward a man who was pinned to the grourd by his dead horse baving fallen upon his leg. It was Don Munez, who, with drawn sword, was cursing the false Don Cavello, branding him as a cew- ard; a craven renegade. With a cool dexterity, Black Garcia struck the weapon from the old man’s hand, und then ordered two of his men Connicloooks.comn