Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 168 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

7 her arms outstretched as though in a mute ap- peal—but then the team, no longer arded, since Mark Heywood went down before the fierce rush of the horse ridden by Deadly Dash, grew terrified by the wild uproar—the yelling, cursing, and rapid fire of the rifles and pistols— and set off as though bound to play alittle “ cir- cus” all on their own hook, But at the third jump, our interest in their doings ceases, for the ub of one wheel struck violently against a tree, and Sally was thrown out of the wagon, fortu- ca ie alighting upon a dense but-yielding bush which broke the force of her fall. Horace Harcourt saw her fall, and at once hastened to her assistance, finding her senseless, but apparently with no bones broken. Sluggish and slow-witted though he was, as a eneral rule, Horace felt such a dread of flying ullets, any one of which might exusily cut him off in the flower of his youth, that the dread al- ternative of either facing the deadly weapons in the hands of unscrupulous foemen, or of ac- knowledging himself a rank coward, spurred his wits to unusual activity, and they showed him a way out of the unpleasant dilemma. He lifted the form of the unconscious maiden in his arms, and took the back track to the vil- lage calling out as he did so: ‘She’s badly hurt—I must take her to the doctor!” It may well be doubted whether anybody heard or heeded his first cry, for they were busily engaged in throwing away good powder and lead after the bold foemen they did not dare press too closely. . Horace hastened toward the ta) his bodily fear still so great that at first he did not feel the burden he bore in his arms, but as he found that there were no more bullets whistling around his ears, he realized that one hundred and twenty pounds of lifeless humanity, even if it be in the guise of a fair maiden whom one hopes to be- come sole master of, tells on the wind of the bearer, especially if he is addicted to late hours, strong cigars and still stronger liquor. More than once he was obliged to pause for breath, and to lower the insensible maiden to her own feet, ere he bad won his way through the timber, but when he met Tom Mason, ‘ rid- ing with bloody spur,” = a confiscated horse, he loudly shouted forth the information that the girl was no better than dead unless skillful aid was speedily found. This formula was repeated as often as he met a rider, and as none’of them paused in their mad race to question his motives, Horace felt that his courage, or rather lack of courage, would never be suspected, and gave vent toa wheezy gasp of relief as he finally entered the gate of his father’s house. The senior Harcourt met him at the door, with an agitation such as rarely found open ex- pression in his usually admirably schooled fea- tures, drawing Horace and the girl into the house, closing and locking the door swiftly be- hind them. Then he caught the girl up in his own arms and bore her hastily up-stairs, where he placed her in the hands of an ugly, fat ne- gress, with many ae instructions. On his return, he found Horace in his shirt sleeves, cooling himself by pouring liquid fire down his throat. Accustomed as he was to seeing the conven- tional mask dropped from the oily, sanctimo- nious face of his parent, when they were alone together, and free from other observation, Horace was startled by the look which he now saw. ‘The work is done—and thoroughly? I saw the beginning, but it would not do for me to have joined the mob. The man is hung, of course—but all that firing?” Horace swallowed another glass of liquor, and uttered a sonorous curse before he made 4 ‘ e work is not done, nor is the man ung— Those simple villagers who looked upon the rich man as only a shade lower than the saints in glory—who loved to look upon him as he sat in church, and who were ever so powerfully impressed by his deep, solemn, confirmation of the prayers there put up—would have thought the world was coming to an end, could they have seen and heard the outburst which mter- rupted Horace Harcourt. he rage distorted face that of a satyr, the words that flowed in a torrent from his lips, a series of awful curses and blasphemy that ended only when his breath failed him, and he sunk back into a chair, purple in the face, quivering and gasping like some loathsome jelly-fish in the last throes of death on being deprived of its native element. Deadly Dash. Horace shifted his chaix around to the other side of the table, and warily watched his hon- ored progenitor, still drinking, but on the de- fensive and clearly ready to beat a hasty retreat in case the necessity should arise. He knew from experience that the old man was doubly dangerous when he ve way to one of these fits of awful passion; dangerous to those who might be near him, and dangerous to himself. But be knew, too, that any attempt to check the paroxysm would only make mat- ters worse. ‘*Some o’ these days you'll kick the bucket when you are playing circus after that style,” he said with scant reverence as he filled a glass with liquor and pushed it across the table, rightly interpreting the fluttering motion of the old man’s hand. ‘‘Why couldn’t you wait to hear me out, instead of going off at half-cock, like an old fool?’ ** You said enough—all our trouble and plot- ting gone for nothing!” gasped Harcourt senior, setting down bis glass. ““T may not be as bright as some, but I don’t see how you make that out. The man, even if he esca d there are forty stout fellows on his heels—will never dare to show his head in this section again. And the farm can’t run away. Then we have got the girl safe enough—” “Then no one knows—nobody saw you bring her here?” erly questioned the old sinner, his eyes sparkling again. Horace looked puzzled, but admitted that nearly ascore of men had seen him pera Sally thither, to say nothing of the terrifie women and children who ma have been pee ing forth from the cracks o their doors as he passed, His father uttered a groan and a curse at the same time. “You are no son of mine! You had your chance, and let a fortune slip through your fin- gers! Why did not you hide with the gir} in the woods until dark, then bring her here, as any one but a drink-besotted fool would have done?” ‘* What difference does it make?’ growled the son. ‘‘All the difference between success and failure. If no one knew that she was here, we could take our time and the devil’s in it if we couldn’t have married her to you, safe and sound. Then, if Bedell was dead—don’t you see? ‘‘There’s more ways than one to skin a cat,” leered Horace, and then the two precious scoun- drels Jeaned forward and clasped hands across the table. By this time the old man appeared to have gotten his mad temper fairly under control, and prompted by him, Horace detailed the events already laid before the reader, and told how the precious morsel was snatched from between their very teeth by two audacious strangers. ‘*You say it was Dick Dado that gave the alarm?’ asked the elder, thoughtfully, but be- fore the son could reply he hastily added, point: ing through the winds, “There the little devil is now! They say that he fairl irl, so he must have follow ring her here. “Go out and fetch him in. Tell him his mis tress is ill, and wishes to see him, or he'll run away from you.” Sige at this new whim, but accustomed to defer to the stronger will and far acuter wits of his father, Horace put on his hat and pa Does knowing that the reason would not be lacking at the ae time. Led by his love for his voung mistress, whom he knew to be inside the house, for the supposi- tion that he had followed Horace with his pre- cious burden was a correct one, Dick Dado fol- lowed the young man into the house, to find himself confronted by a very different person from the one he expected to see, Edwin Harcourt assumed his customany pom- (Se look, and closely questioned the lad as to is part in the recent strange affair, and as to who the two men were with whom he was plain- ly acting in co-operation, but in this e Dick was as good as his master, and held his tongue. Not a word could they make him utter, nor did he flinch when Horace caught up a riding- whip from the table and swore he would score his back until he dropped. Nor is there much doubt but what this threat would have been put into execution, for the fellow was brave as a lion when only feeble women or little boys Pace ings him, but Edwin urt inter- e ‘Suffer me to deal with the little man, son. - worships the and seen you va ——— You are too harsh, and only make matters worse by terrifying him. ‘*Now Dick, hearken unto me. You have helped to commit an awful crime against the law, and I should not wonder but what some of the townsmen will be all for hanging you in the place of the man whom ey aided to escape the punishment due his terrible crime. But if you will promise to obey my instructions, I will in- tercede with them for you, and think I may promise you shall not be hung for this grave - offense, \** Now mark me well. You know that Miss Sally Bedell is here, brought in order that her injuries may be properly attended to, Yow know, too, that Seth Hovey, whom men now say is the leader of the outlaws that infest this county, is her lover. And he helped the man to escape, too, didn’t he?’ in a sharp, peremp- tory tone. But the trap failed to catch its expected prize, for Dick uttered no word, made no motion, only stared fixedly into the red, oily zace of bis pom pous inquisitor. ‘‘ At any rate, you must know where to find ° him,” added Harcourt, as blandly as bLevore, ‘‘and you must hasten to tell him this. Say that it has been decided in council—mind, in council—that Miss Sally shall be sent under an. armed escort to the county seat, there to re- main a ile epee as a hostage, until Joshua Be- dell yields himself, or is surrendered by his mis guided friends, to meet the just reward of his crime. You can remember this? You will not forget?’ Dick nodded assent, for the first time since” his entrance, giving an answer to a question, by” word or sign. “Very good. You may now. Deliver our” message correctly, and I will persuade the mem ~ not to hang you this time.” Dick turned and left the house as though i to escape so easily, running through the vi age until he was hidden from the sight of the wate ers at the window. ** Now perhaps you'll let me know what under the sun you are driving at, with all this non- sense,” muttered Horace. ‘* First, we get rid of an inconvenient spy and witness, for, despite his sullen, stupid demeanor while here, that imp is as keen as a brier, Nex we may so work upon the fears of the lover tha’ he will turn over the father for the sake of the daughter, but at any rate we will put him on a false scent, and by sending him to the county seat in quest of her, gain the time necessary for rfecting our plans, avd transforming Miss sally Bedell into Mrs. Horace Harcourt.” *There’s no doubt about the coal? I mean, you are sure it isa heavy enough vein to pay for the working?’ ‘Tt is worth uiniveds where he asks doHarsy but I mean to get the place for my own price— curse the covetous dog!” This ending struck Horace as extremely comi- cal, and he nearly suffocated in trying te smother a laugh by swallowing a glass of raw brandy. But the next words uttered by his father de- manded his whole attention, and with their heads almost touching over the table, the twe precious scoundrels consulted together and con- cocted a most diabolical plot against their ene mies. CHAPTER VL. FIGHT FIRE WITH FIRE Bota Deadly Dash and Old Mythology were awakened by the sharp cry with which Seth Hovey burst into the chamber, and though they both gra their weapons as they arose from their bunks, they had time to observe and ad- mire the perfect discipline displayed by the out- law band. There was no bustle, no confusion, but each man quickly fell into line, shay re in hand, ap parently ready for anything that might be be fore them. ‘*“Boot and saddle!” cried Hovey, his voice trembling with a deep and bitter passion. “There’s hard on and hot fighting before us! Boot and saddle!” Not a question asked the men, but as though fully confident that their leader would utter ne unnecessary order, they hastened at once to the®’ inner chamber where the horses were kept stabled when not under the saddle. But Joshua Bedell was not so quietly submis- sive, and plied his would-be son-in-law with question after question. ‘The child—it is no bad news about Sally, ¥ hope, Seth?’ ‘It could hardly be worse,” growled the oui~ law chief, stamping furiously as he strode te comicboo S ero)