Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 144 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

2 a —— Dainty Lance, THE BOY SPORT; OR, The Bank-Breakers’ Decoy Duck. BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JrR., AUTHOR OF “YELLOWSTONE JACK,” ‘‘ HURRI- CANE BILL,” ‘‘ MUSTANG SAM,” ‘‘ NIGHT- HAWK KIT,” ETC. CHAPTER L THE DECOY DUCK. Wart-whit-whit-tu-wH00-00-0! Only the weird, peculiar notes of the lesser horned owl, but the traveler abruptly reined in his horse and turning half-way round in the sad- dle, cast a keen glance into the darkness from whence the sound proceeded, and through which he had et ridden. Not that the night-bird or its melancholy yet far from disagreeable plaint were uncommon at that hour when twilight deepens into nightfall, for already the young traveler had caught brief —— of more than one of the birds as they tted past on silent wing, had listened to their drening call; but his quick, trained ear told him that there was a difference in this last call from the others—that it was either a poor imi- en or else uttered by a badly demoralized owl. His years were those of a boy, his experience that oF aman. He was in a portion of a then border State where life was lightly valued, and this uncertain cadence, which would have es- caped an ordinary ear, put him upon his guard at. once. The sound had scarcely died away, when an- other and more startling cry came to his ears— the shrill scream of a woman in bodily danger or terror. The first came from the rear, the second from in advance, apparently just around an abrupt bend in the road, only a few yards ahead of the horseman. He was young, courageous, and endowed with more than an ordinary share of that chivalry which ranks women but little if any below the angels. He forgot the suspicions aroused by the cry of the owl, and with a clear shout of en- c menf, he plied his spurs aud dashed around the curve in the road. moon was nearing its full, and on this evening shone brightly down upon a short stretch of road where the heavy growth of tim- ber had given place to a matted mass of sumac and hazel bushes, bound together with black- berry briers aud other brambles. 6 silvery a“ fell upon a tableau that told its own vna! he form of a woman struggling desperately in the grasp of two men who, with fierce, angry Curses, were endeavoring to drag their captive from the road into the dense un- «<ergrowth out of which they had pounced upon her when that ill-omened cry broke the peaceful The keen-eyed traveler took all this in at a mee, and without a thought of the ible ~ r to himself, he drew a revolver m its olster and uttered an encouraging shout as he hastened to the As tho Degnabery, which told of com though, ery, whic of coming as- stone, Had lent her the necessary ee of strength, the woman broke away from her as- ts with a force that caused one all other ruffian snatch at her, which was only i triking his foot against and at full h over his te fellow ran swift- ay es wn the road toward the h this she appeared to be acting blindly, rather than through calculation, since the trav- eler was forced to wrench up his 101 until its —s Stl ce eae rn who paused 1 n i out: a ace, the two ruffians had scrambled to their feet, and with fierce oaths of vengeful rage, were we pursuit of their fizeing prey, when they hesitated atthe sight of ‘this new actor upon the aa _ ‘Phat the latter was a bold player, was quick- dy. made manifest. Ore ea Mteadying himself as well as possible under the existing circumstances, he discharged two shots, in swift succession at the enemy. A fierce, snarling cry told that at least one of these bullets had its billet, and the nearest of the two ruffians made an angry leap forward, bent on revenge, but his mate grasped him b the arm and forced him back under cover. ? ‘* They will murder you—we must flee for our lives!” Even in that moment of excitement, the horseman noticed how musical was the voice which uttered these words, and as he glanced downward, the clear moonlight gave him a glimpse of a young face in perfect accord with the tones—but only a glimpse. A small, brown hand closed upon the bridle- rein, and the spirited horse was turned sharply around as though on a pivot, then, with a move- ment that was active grace itself, a small foot rested upon his instep for a moment, and then @ warm arm clas him around the waist as the girl settled herself on the horse behind him. ‘** Not now,” she breathed, hurriedly. ‘‘ They will shoot you down as you attempt to pass them, or will steal along under cover and shoot hee: here. Death for you, and a worse fate for me It was her heel that urged the horse along the back-trail, out of the moonlight and into the dense shadows where the tree-tops closed in a somber arch above the road. But the horseman raised no po gees either in words or by ac- tions, sim saying: ¢ Where 40 ey want to go? back to town? MS Ty wholly at your disposal—my horse and I. ‘*Ride fast for a few moments—let them think that we are hastening to town, and they will give over the chase,” quickly responded the young woman. The willing horse dashed on for a few rods at full speed, then at a word from the woman, was checked. ‘* We have lost them now,” she added, but with an undercurrent of anxiety in her voice that she failed to conceal. ‘I don’t think there is any more danger. And lam taking you out of your road—” ** No,” said the traveler, quietly. ‘‘ My road is the same as yours, until you are once more safe with your friends. This is a rough country for & woman to be journeying through, alone and after dark.” “If not too much trouble—I believe Iam a coward!” and there was vague uneasiness in her faint laugh. ** What you call trouble, I consider a pleasure. Just consider me a brother, and make use of me as such, until you find a more suitable guar- dian.” This was said with a laugh, but there was something in his voice that would have reas- sured a far more timid creature than she who was perched bebind bim. _“*Then—brother—turn into that path to the right; it will take us to my—our relatives. And as we go, I will tell vou how I came to fall into the trouble from which you so bravely rescued me. ‘Not unless you are perfectly willing,” said the traveler, turning his horse into the narrow path indicated. **Why should I not? There should be no con- cealments between brother andsister. But first, a brother should know his sister’s name. I am Myrtle Fair.” ‘The first should be last, or the moonlight back yonder spoke falsely, Fair Myrtle,” laugh- ingly uttered the traveler, but with more of earnestness than appeared on the ace. ‘** Bah! had I said Gipsy Brown there might have been some tele the conceit,” but even as she spoke, a little thrill was sent along the arm that encompa the traveler’s waist, that told him his words bad not seriously offended her ears. ‘‘The moonlight fell upon your face, as well, and I saw—what, no doubt, many an- other silly girl hastold you. I like tobe al, and so cut the words short, you can the compliment : to your own fancy, broth- ie ‘“‘ Lance—Lancelot Daintree, sister Myrtle.” *‘Or Dainty Lanece—the name suits you well for fair weather, “2 ee good as though you had backed it up witha seme certificate.” There was a touch of mockery in these words as well as in the short langh which accompanied them, and for the first time Dainty Lance—to accept the sobriquet bestowed upon him by the girl he had so strangely encountered—began to suspect that he was not acting quite as prudent- ly as he might. The unnatural call of the horned ow] recurred to him, and he could not wx thinking that his fair companion was strangely self-possessed for a young woman who had so recently met with a terrible adventure. That hoot may have been a signal—the scene in the moonlighted road but a preconcerted # r Dainty Lance, the Boy Sport. ee affair—instead of a maiden in distress, his fair charge might bea decoy, leading him to robbery. Such things had been. Thus far Lance thought, then dismissed the ideas from his mind with the carelessness of a young and fearless heart. What was to be, would be, and he would see the adventure to the end. lt seemed as though Myrtle divined his doubts, for her bantering manner instantly changed, and she once more became the tender creature: whom he had rescued from ateir-ble peril. Her arm clasped his waist less firmly, and there was a faint tremulousness in her voice as she spoke: **T forgot for the moment where I was, and all that had happened. I forgot, too, that you are a stranger. My calling you brother, seem- ed to carry me back to the time when my rea! brother—but there! My nerves are so agitated and unstrung that I hardly know what I am. saying.” Nevertheless, she had power of will sufficient to push aside these reminiscences of the past, and give a clear and succinct account of the events which had led to her encountering that: awkward adventure. Her relatives had come to Missouri from Georgia, in search of a new and more comfort- able home. From St. Louisthey bad journeyed this f rin wagons, pausing from time to time in order to search for a pleasant location, and they were now taking one of these breathing spells, only a mile or two from where Dainty Lance had so nobly risked his life— Well, he could not prevent her from thinking what she felt was true, anyhow! She had ridden into town, that afternoon, to ta letter and make a few little purchases, ut when she was ready to start on her return,, her horse was missing. Whether stolen or only strayed, she failed to learn, though she spent. the remainder of daylight in the effort. She started for her home—if a woodland camp could be called home—and was surprised by the two brutal ruffians from whose evil hands his timely approach freed her. What their motives, she could only conjecture, but she should al- ways feel that he bad preserved her from a fate far worse than death itself. She used many more wordsin making these explanations, than are recorded here, and dur- ing it all, Dainty Lance was on the keen look- out for a plausible peg on which to hang the suspicion already alluded to, but without suc- cess, There was nothing lacking in the story she told; not a word too much nor a word too little. 1f not all truth, then she was an admira- ble actress. Lance began to feel a little ashamed of his suspicions, and to make amends, went to the other extreme, soon putting his fair companion wholly at her ease, and any one hearing them as they rode along, chatting gayly, would have: deemed them lifelong friends if not lovers. Myrtle seemed wonderfully well acquainted with the land before them, considering she was little better thati a stranger in that section, and though she laughed a little incredulously when Lance declared that he was wholly at sea re- ding their present whereabouts, she assumed fhe office of guide, passing from one path to an- other without the faintest trace of doubt or hesitation, though at times the dense foliage of the thick-grow trees shut out every ray of moonlight. ‘ _At length she said, with a half-sigh: “Our is almost atanend. Some of them must have beard us before now.” “4 can see no light—no trace of an encamp- ment. ‘*We are obliged to be prudent. You know what the country is; how thick and daring the horse-thieves are, We have some fine stock, and such needs to .be jealously guarded where gentry of that denomination abound. “They must have h our approach, and have hidden or e the 1 must give them tte signal, or we May meet with a warmer reception than we care for!” , She slipped from the horse to the ground, and gave utterance to a cry that brought back his suspicion like a flash—for it was peculiar note of the horned owl! The next instant a sereen of blankets was torn down from around a_ upon which a handful of hay was cast, while the right glare of a bull’s-eye lantern was turned full upon his face, almost blinding him. Mechanically he grasped his revolvers, but a soft, warm hand instantly rested upon bis, and a well known voice uttered the words: ‘*Have no fear—these are my friends, and ours!” No doubt these words were not without. theix (Ej oN) com s (E(©)