Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 18 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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——-——_—_—_—_—= ——_——- er —- ~ Dick Darling. 15 a belt containing two revolvers and ammuni- tion, and ascended to the roof of the house to survey the neighborhood, The summit of the little dwelling was sur- mounted with a small structure of heavy logs, meant on purpose for sheltering an observer, and the girl found no difficulty in surveying the whole of the horizon. She had not far to look for her sister. The whole neighborhood of the ranche was desert- ed; and the presence of two or three cows, grazing outside the stockade as quietly as if nothing had happened, was conclusive proof that the Indians must have departed, as cattle are always uneasy in their vicinity. But a glance out on the prairie revealed the sought- for object. A single horse, with a double burden, was moving rapidly off to the north-west in the di- rection of. the Lava Beds, and Sophy recog- nized the figure of the Modoc warrior, while the muffled-up bundle on the horse’s croup could be none other than her captured sister. A strange thrill went through the girl’s heart, as she gazed. Her thoughts may be best guessed by the murmured words that fell from her lips. ‘‘She is gone—by no fault of mine—they oan not blame me—I did not do it—but Lloved Dick first, and now it will not be wrong to love him—poor Charlotte will be killed, and he will be free to love me—I know he would if she had not come between us—they can not ex- pect me to follow her alone—and Dick Darling will be mine,” It was a terrible temptation to the poor girl. Dick Darling, the Dashing Dick, darling of all the girls in the Far West, had won two hearts where he had thought to win but one; and had fallen as a brand of discord into the Fair- field family, making rivals of sisters, who, till then, had never held more than one common thought. Only the day before he had left them, to carry the mails from Yreka to t Lava Beds, and now Sophy’s rival was vanish- ing before her eyes, and no blame could attach to her. The girl watched the retreating figures with dry, blazing eyes for some time, and then turn- ed hurriedly away, murmuring: ‘‘No, no, I can not look longer—I shall go mad.” She ran down stairs to the little sitting- room, and threw herself on a chair, burying her face in her hands and sobbing. When she looked up, a sudden change cane over her face, for the first thing that her eyes rested on was a staring portrait on the wall. It was but a daub, to cultivated eyes, but to hers, accus- tomed to it for years, it produced a shock, such as the best efforts of a Titian could not have compassed. It was the picture of two little girls, with arms entwined, playing with some flowers, herself and sister, as they were once, It acted on the gir! like a stroke of lightning. She jumped up and ran wildly out to the sta- bles, screaming: ‘‘Lotty! Lotty! Dear little sister, I'll die to save you —forgive me. ” In a moment more, with trembling hands, she was taking down a saddle and hastily girthing it on her own fleet Indian pony. Ere the Modoc ravisher was out of sight from the ranche, Sophy was mounted and on his trail. The Indian who had carried off Lottv Fair- field was a tall, muscular fellow, richly dressed, but umarmed, save for a bowie-knife. He found the girl at the spring; seized her with a grasp of iron, and enveloped her in a blanket, are she could utter more than a single shriek of terror; then dashed her to the earth with a force that half-stunned her; and in a moment had bound a rope firmly round the blanket, se- curing it so strongly that escape became an ut- ter impossibility. The daring ravisher then tifted her up like a log, threw her over his shoulder, and strode away to the cottonwood Poicket, Here he found a fine horse fastened 70 @ tree, which he led out, laid the helpless bundle over the croup of the animal, mounted himself, and then fastened the girl to his waist with a long belt. That done, he started off at a round trot, heading straight for the Lava Beds, and for some time rode on without uttering a word. About six miles from the ranche appeared a grove of live-oak, the central one of all being as gigantic as the one that sheltered the ranche gate. To this grove the Modoc directed his course, quietly dismounted there, and fastened his horse to a tree, then laid his captive on the ground, and spoke for the first time. ‘‘Ha, Missy Lotty, you t’ink Shasta Jim big fool, but he no fool. Me Modoc brave, and me want pretty white squaw—by gosh, me have him now. Come, give Shasta a kiss, pooty Missy Charlotte.” As the scoundrel spoke, he drew the keen bowie-knife and cut a siit in the blanket, which he threw open, disclosing the face of poor Charlotte Fairfield, gazing apprehensively up at him. “ Aha, Missy Charlotte,” said Shasta Jim, triumphantly, ‘you know Shasta. You know Hooker Tom, kill yesserday by ole man Fair- field. Now den, you be my squaw, [| call him all right. If not, I cuts you into little bits just now. Ha, s’pose you like dat? Come, you be Shasta Jim’s squaw; he gib you nice lodge, good hunter, plenty buff’lo, much heap eat; 8’pose you say yes.” And the savage leered lovingly at his cap- tive, who turned her eyes away, shuddering with loathing, but not daring to speak for fear of hastening her own destruction. Shasta Jim was about to renew his efforts at entertainment, when he suddenly started and listened. The rapid tramp of a horse at full speed was coming over the prairie. Charlotte rolled herself over, so as to see who was com- ing, and recognized her own sister, with a rifle gleaming in her hand. “Saved! Itis Sophy?’ she murmured, and fell back, as Shasta Jim sprung to his feet, looking uneasy. The Indian, as we have seen, was unarmed except for his knife. But Shasta was too old a warrior to run from a girl, at whatever disadvantage of arms. He waited silently by his captive, whom he held up with one arm as a shield from the expected shot, and kept his knife behind him, ready for action. Sophy Fairfield galloped up to the savage, rifle in hand, and then wheeled away, as if dis- appointed, Like a tiger Shasta sprung after and caught her by the flowing skirt. She screamed and dropped her rifle, and Shasta let go the skirt to pounce on the weapon. It proved to be only a ruse of Sophy’s, Even as he stooped for the rifle the girl fired her pistol into his back, grazing him, and Shasta Jim, waiting for no second shot, dropped the stolen weapon and fled. A moment later the sisters were in each other’s arms, Sophy murmuring: “Forgive me, Lotty darling, I’ll never be jealous again. Be happy witb Dick.” CHAPTER V. THE sun was sloping down toward the west- ward, and casting long, black shadows from the gigantic live-oaks that surrounded Fair- field’s ranche, when a tall, wiry young fellow, on a bay horse, followed by a tawny blood- hound with black muzzls, rode toward the stockade gate from the direction of Yreka. Any mountain man would have recognized this rider as the well-known Dick Darling, first Pony-Express Rider on the Overland Route, and now volunteer mail-carrier between Yreka and the Lava Beds, where lurked the Modocs, As Darling neared the ranche a pleased smile lighted up his face, and he murmured to him- self: ‘‘They do not expect me; I shall give them a surprise; but nothing to what they will have goon. My innocent little yirl, how they have blinded her to the truth! But now it will not be long ere we— Holloa! what's this?” As he spoke he reined up near the gate, and looked in surprise at the turf around the little | spring under the live-oak. It was all torn up and trampled, as if by a struggle, a broken pitcher lay beside it, and the tracks of a horse at full speed led off into the prairie in the di- recvion of the Lava Beds. Dick Darling cast a hurried glance at the gate. It was wide open, and his dog ran in, and was questing about the yard. Nota hu man being was in sight around Fairfield’s, Impatient and anxious, he rode in, calling out: ‘Fairfield! Lotty! Sophy! Where are you all?” - Nothing answered him but the echoes, ‘‘ By heavens!” he muttered, “ there’s Modoc craft in this, or I mistake. Some of Jack’s band have been round here. How lucky I have Hector with me.” Then he rode hastily out of the deserted ranche, calling his dog; and soon stood by the scene of the late struggle. He spoke to the in- telligent hound as if he was addressing a hu- man being, saying: ‘‘ Hector, there’s been trouble here. Some one has carried off your young mistress and her sister. Captain Fairfield’s gone, and where I don't know. Find the fellow that carried cff your mistress, boy. Seek him, Hector.” The great bloodhound looked up in his mas- ter’s face with his head on one side, as if he understood every word. Ther he turned round and bustled about over the trampled turf, sauffing and whining, till, at length, he threw up his head, and uttered a long, mourntul howl of peculiar tone, ‘Indians; I thought so,” said Darling, nod- ding. Seek them, boy.” Hector waved his tail slowly back and forth, and went off on the prairie at a long, swift lope, baying in low tones as he went, while Darling rode after him, rifle in hand. Straight away from the setting sun he rode, bending to the north-east, the direction of the dreaded Lava Beds, wherein lay concealed Captain Jack and his band of savage Modocs, It was also the only road which was as yet un- occupied by troops, the only way of exit left to the savages out of the net of danger which surrounded them. None knew better than Darling that he was going every moment deeper into peril. But, as he rode on, watching the dog, his thoughts were only absorbed by a single thought: ‘‘What had become of his friend Fairfield and his daughters?” After half an hour’s rapid riding, a clump of huge live-oaks looming up ahead, toward which the dog was making, announced that he was running his quarry to earth in all likeli- hood, The young frontiersman cocked his rifle, in- creased his pace to a full gallop, and struck off on a circle so as to ride around the little grove, His experience told him that it most likely con- tained an enemy, and he did not wish to afford a skulking Modoc a chance of a cool shot, The hound, separated from its master, kept on as straight as a die, dashed into the covert, baying loudly; and, a few moments after, out came three people at differant points, all evi- dently roused by the dog. Two of them were girls, mounted on a single horse. The third was an Indian warrior, coming out of the opposite side of the grove. With a cry of joy Darling galloped toward the Indian, just as the two girls headed their single horse for Fairfield’s ranche. In another moment the faithful Hector bounded out of the wood and sprung savagely at the Indian on the other side. Darling threw his reins over his horse’s neck, and fired a rapid shot out of his Spencer rifle at the Modoc. Like a flash, the other dropped over the side of his horse, swerved, and galloped away toward the very@lace whence the girls had emerged, still followed by the hound. But the borderer noticed as he passed that the Indian had no gun, and recognized him as one of the bravest of the Modocs, Shasta Jina by name. He could hardly understand the reason of the other for following the two girls, but he dashed after him, wasting no more useless _ shots, but striving to close. Eomichbooks.co