Beadle's Dime Novels No. 316: Hurricane Bill — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

A TRAGEDY. ae ee vourself and disgrace for your daughter instead. There is no retracting—it shall be so. You shall die a death cf horrible torture, while you can soothe your last moments by reflecting that this same bight your daughter becomes mine,” tauntingly cried Black Garcia. Yet ve it was who was the “poor, blind fool.” Even as he scoffed and mocked at the brave old man, the shadow of death was Creeping over him. His thread of life was all spun—was even thenabout tosnap, His minutes, his seconds of life were counted. | : “Come, darling,” he added, in a thick, maudlin tone that he meant should be intensely loving, us-be turned to face Carmela. “ This is no place for hearts like ours. The scene that is about to take place is too tragic—let us go to our bridal chamber-—ba! ha!” Carmela appeared like one stupefied. Ler face was ghastly pale. Her eyes were fixed in a stony stare ; her hand was cold as ice, Yet she mechanically yielded to the out- Jaw’s arm, which still encircled her waist. And thus, in seem- ing affectionate embrace, the couple so strangely assorted passed around the point of rocks and was hidden from view of those beside tbe bonfire. “ You are wise, my queen, to yield to the inevitable,” said Black Garcia, a little indistinctly, for the fiery mezcal was beginning to cleg his tongue. “ You are very wise. I ama rising man—you, as my bride, will be a rising. woman. I am king here—but listen. I mean to get up a pronuncia- mento, aud then I will be dictator—” “ You don’t say « /” gritted-a deep voice, as a black figure uprose before the bandit chief, seemingly from out of the very ground. “I reckon you're goin’ down ’stead 0” up /” A sinewy hand clutcbed the outlaw’s throat—a keen-point- ed blade was driven once—twice to the very hilt in his chest. * Look to the gal, purd; don’t let her squeel. Make fer the horses, hot foot. Vin goin’ to lift this varmint’s ha’r !” A second figure glided away with Carmela in his arms, ope hand over ber lips. The other stooped over the fallen outlaw fora moment. When he arose, something black dangled in his hand. It was the scalp of Black Garcia, the mountain outlaw. = Cconnicloooks.comn