Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 186 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

+> Cool Desmond. 17 ‘Hol’ on!” cried the giant, abruptly, an idea getting into his thick head, ‘‘who knows but wot them Cats have gone through the cabin and carried the kids off already, afore we come?” The miners stared at each other for a moment, for they understood that there might be some- thing in this, and the Doctor was quick to act upon it, ‘*I will soon settle that question,” he an- nounced, and then he marched up to the door of the cabin and knocked, No light was burning within to indicate that the inmates had not retired to rest, but it was soon evident that the two were not fast in slum- ber’s chain, for the voice of the girl, who was plainly startled by the summons, inquired: ** W ho is there?” ‘Don’t be alarmed, miss, it is only a party of friends,” the Doctor replied, in his blandest tones. ‘* Don’t you recognize my voice? I am the Doctor; we heard that there was some sus- picious characters prowling around the camp to-night, so a party of us came up to see if you were all safe.’ ‘**Oh, yes,” replied the girl, much relieved, when she discovered who her questioner was; ‘*no one has troubled us at all.” The miners now all glared at the colonel, and shook their heads, as much as to intimate that they considered him a fraud of the first water. ** You must excuse us for disturbing you, but we felt a little alarmed, and thought we had tare pam up and see if everything was all right. ‘*Oh, you are very kind, indeed!” the girl re- sponded, gratefully. ‘‘ Every one isso kind to us here, that I fear we never shall be able to ex- press how grateful we are.” “Well, good-night, miss; sorry to have dis- turbed you;” and the Doctor retreated, followed by the rest. The Taos man marched along with his nose up in the air, dogged, defiant, and ugly, regard- less of the sly jokes gh vermece at his expense. He couldn’t very well fight the whole gang, as he remarked, but, if any one or two men wanted to maul him on the Cat question, he was their mutton, At the hotel the Doctor invited all in to take a ‘‘night-cap,” at his expense, and, when the glasses were filled, the host gave a toast: ‘*'We’ll drink to the colonel’s Cat,” he said and the rest gravely echoed the toast, drained their glasses. “Down goes the Cat,” muttered Taos, as he tossed off the whisky; ‘‘ and thar was a Cat, or rt You are,” ded Uncle Pete l ‘* You are,” respon n ete, gravely, and then the party broke up. CHAPTER XXII. THE DANGER COMES, In thirty minutes’ time after the miners crossed the threshold of the hotel, they were all safe in their bunks; not a light burned in the valley, not a sulitary miner was astir; the town was as quiet and as silent as a churchyard, and the moon, as she peered down every now and then from between the masses of clouds that were scudding in wild confusion over the face of the sky, beheld no sign of life in the camp. But all within the valley’s confines were not buried in slumber. Within the cabin of the pilgrims, the two strangers around whose past career such a mystery clung, the brother and sister, held busy and anxious converse. No light was lit within the cabin, and the heavy shutter that barred the window was tightly closed, so that the interior was plunged in utter darkness, excepting that the moon, as if desirous of joining in the conference of the two, sent a couple of eavesdropping beams of silver light through a pair of round holes which had been cut in the top part of the shutter. These two little intruding lines of light did not illuminate the apartment in the least, but they “made the ee hhsnrstneliee The bo upon the bunk, a heavy clasped os ons of his white and fragile hands, the hammer drawn back so that the weapon was ready for action. By the side of the rude bunk knelt the girl. Could their features have been seen, upon the white face of the lad despair strangely commin- gled with desperation would plainly have been aia while Se picks ae betrayed signs of anguish but not o k 7 tell you that we are in deadly peril!” the boy exclaimed, excitedly, glaring around him in the darkness as though he expected to see a foe startforthfromeachcorner. | _, ‘‘No, no; it is only your imagination,” the girl assured, soothing ‘*Oh, no, it is not! Why do you talk to me as if I was only a child?” the other retorted. ‘*T tell you I feel danger in the very air around us. I feel exactly the same as on that dreadful night, the events of which sent us forth wan- derers into the world.” ‘**Heaven knows that it is not my wish to blame you or to speak harshly in regard to your acts,” the girl observed, slowly and sol- emnly, ‘‘ but Iam sure that if you were less im- pulsive—less given to acting upon the thought = the moment, it would be far better for both of us. ‘*You mean that if [had been more careful or rather less careless, | could have avoided what has happened?” sé Yes »”? ‘‘Am I to blame?” the boy cried, in a very ir- ritable and defiant way. ‘‘I am as Heaven made me and I cannot helpit. I am not cool and calculating as you are; it is not my nature, nor can I submit to wrong without attempting to avenge myself.” ‘* Ah, that is exactly where the trouble is: it is better to submit, to endure in patience, some- times, than to resist.” But the other had no belief in this and he shook his head angrily. ‘“You are too good for this world!” he ex- claimed. ‘‘ You are asaint and should be trans- lated straight into heaven, but I, on the con- trary, am only a poor, weak, erring mortal, and, mortal-like, when I am trodden upon, it is my nature to resist.” ‘Oh, but see what a terrible amount of mis- ery year rash action has caused us!* the other cried, impetuously, unable to refrain from ex- pressing in words the thoughts which crowded so thickly upon her brain. ‘If you had onl restrained yourself—if you had only temporized, we would not now be what we are—wanderers upon the face of the world, depending entirely upon the kindness of strangers for the very bread we eat.” ‘‘T am accursed!” the boy wailed, excitedly ; ‘bitter bad fortune must have sat in my house of life when I was born, and the evil influence has followed me ever sinee.” ‘Do not say so; Iam sure it is not so,” the girl asseverated, softly. ‘' Just think how kind- ly fortune has smiled upon us in bringing us to this camp where everybody is so good to us! What right had we, poor helpless strangers, to expect any such treatment as we have received from the noble-hearted men in this camp?” ‘‘And yet, I tell you it was an evil hour when fortune led our wandering footsteps this way; Lam sure of it, and nothing but misfor- tune will come of it!” the boy persisted, in the feverish, excited way which was such a stran contrast to the calm, hopeful tones of the girl. ‘* We ought to have heeded the warning of the idiot before we descended into the valley, and have turned our steps in another direction.” ‘*We would have been very foolish to heed the ravings of that poor boy whose mind is so sadly distraught. is warning was but idle words. Hedid not know us—could not know us, nor from whence we came, nor why we fled. How then could he warn us?” ‘*Many folks believe that such idiots, depriv- ed of reasoning powers, acquire an instinct that seems almost supernatural,” the boy remarked. ‘The idiot could not have known us as you say; it was not possible that he could have any knowledge of my we fled, or that we had any reason to fly; and yet, he spoke of dangers from which we had escaped, and warned us of dan- gers to come.” f ‘‘ Tdle words—nothing but idle words; he talks so toevery one; do not all tell us so?” Yes,” admitted the boy, who was resolute in not allowing conviction to take hold of him; ‘* but this dreadful massacre, the bare mention of which freezes my blood with horror every time I hear it mentioned!” * lo what is that to us? What do we know of it? ‘True indeed; what do we know of it; but why should this Desmond think that we know something of it? Why should the outlaw who assumes the strange disguise of a cat believe that we possess a knowledge of the secrets of the old ruined ranch?” **T cannot tell—it is a deep mystery to me,” the girl confessed, after giving the subject a few minutes’ thoughtful consideration, __ And therefore I tell you there is danger in it for us!” the other again repeated. ‘There is nothing left for us but to fly if we would es- cape the peril that is banging over us,” ‘Fly, and whither will we go?” +e Oh, it matters not; anywhere out of this place. ‘It is impossible—it cannot be—it is madness to think of such a thing! You are nervous and excited to-night; when the morning comes, and you reflect upon the matter, calmly, you will see that such a thing is not te be thought of for a moment,” ‘*We encounter dreadful risks if we remain here; I am sure of it!” ‘¢ And will we not encounter dreadful risks if we go away?” “No matter; we must go!” But, accustomed as the girl was to yield to the will of the other in this affair, she felt that she must not. ‘It is imposs ble, we cannot go,” she replied, firmly. ‘* It is madness to remain!” ‘* And equal madness to depart; we are here now, surrounded by good, stanch friends, even though they are almost utter strangers, who, I am sure, will not see us harmed by any one. We are here; we must stay and work out our des- — whatever it may be.” he boy uttered a groan of despair. ** Tt will be our utter ruin!” “If so, then so be it! But I do not believe it; I have faith and hope in the future, although I do not doubt that we will perhaps encounter toil, privation and perhaps danger; but, as well here as elsewhere, for we cannot avoid such things by flight if fate ordains them; but, for Heaven’s sake, do not grasp a btw nt upon the eo alarm; be more patient—more pru- ent. ‘*T cannot. I must do somethin myself if danger threatens me. I die, else.” ‘* Life is as sweet to me as to any one I sup- ose, and yet, sometimes I think it would have en better for us both to have died, when death was so near, rather than have lived the life we have been o a to live since that time,” and the girl spoke slowly and sorrowfully. ‘*? will not die while I can cling to life!” the other declared. Then he suddenly reached out his hand and caught the girl by the wrist. to defend ould surely “ Hush!” he cried, excitedly; ‘‘ what was that? — Did you not hear something?” \ The two listened attentively, and so still was the night that they could plainly hear the sound of their own breathing, which seemed terribly loud. ‘*{ do not hear anything,” the girl whispered, after quite a long pause. ‘“‘T fancied that I did.” ‘What was it like?’ ‘‘Some one stepping cautiously outside the cabin door.” Again the two listened intently, but the sound —if sound indeed there had been—did not again come to the ears of the a “Oh, I am going crazy, I believe,” he mutter- ed. ‘I do not hear a single sound now, and yet I would have sworn that I heard the noise of © stealthy footsteps outside the door.” ‘*You are excited, and your imagination is overwrought. the morning you will doubtless be better.” yee a subdued moan the boy fell back on the ‘*Oh, this must come to an end soon,” he mut- tered; ‘‘this constant excitement—this dire ap- prehension will be the death of me. I am al- ready bh worn out; I cannot stand the strain much longer.” ‘* Patience—only havo patience and all will be well,” the girl reassured him, smoothing the forehead of the other with her soft white hand. The boy closed his eyes; all was still as the Stillness of the grave, and the girl believed that rest at last was at hand. Thenin this dead and uiet calm there came a sound from without that caused both of the anxious pair to start in ght. It was the sound of a hoarse whisper that came as distinctly on the clear still air of the night as a loud command would have done by day. a Now, all together, boys, one, two, three!” There was a heavy shock, and the cabin deor, burst from its fastenings, came rolling into the room. CHAPTER XXIII, A MYSTERIOUS SHOT. THE boy sat bolt upright in the bunk, and with blazing eyes grab the revolver, but the girl, anticipating just such a movement as this on his part, threw both her arms around him thus practically rendering him incapable of carrying out the desperate purpose which he contemplated. ‘* Let me go!” he shouted. ? ) no, I will not; yield, resistance is mad- ness!’? ! Eomicboo S Lie down and try to sleep; in: 4 ‘CO