Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 186 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

22 ——— that the boy was raising the hammer with the evident intention of trying again, the outlaw sprung forward and with a single thrust of his keen knife gave the youth his passport to the other world, For a moment the girl, stood statue-like, transfixed with horror, and then, with a loud scream, she threw herself upon the body. ‘*Oh, sister—oh, !” she cried, in heart- rending accents, and then fainted dead away, apparently as fully bereft of life as the mangled form to which she clung. This wild cry, in part, explained the mystery which had bung around the supposed boy, and accounted for his fear, nervousness and gene- rally flighty behavior. The boy’s dress covered the figure of a girl! ‘‘ A woman, eh?’ cried the outlaw chief, who now regretted the haste with which he had acted. ‘‘ Curse the jade! What did she want to fly at me like a tiger for? But the mischief is done now, and it cannot be undone.” ‘** Looks as if the other girl was going to kick the bucket, too, captain,” one of the men ob- served. ‘*Oh, she is all right; she has only fainted, and will revive soon, but it won’t do to waste any time in case the revolver-shot has alarmed anybody in the neighborhood. You take the gine Reeet she is light and you can easily carry er. ‘*Oh, yes, I reckon I kin tote ber all right,” and the outlaw, raising the girl from the floor, supported her in his burly arms. ‘*And now we'll be off; I reckon we have done the trick this time, although it was a cursed shame to be obliged to kill the gal, but pentose itis just as well; for such a tiger-cat is tter out of the world than in it,” the Cat cap- tain remarked. ‘‘Ilt was a narrow squeeze for me; I haven’t been so near death for many a day, andI reckon that it will be a long time afore I come so near again.” But the outlaw was wrong in this, for death was very near him—hovering in the air, flap- ping his sable wings even as the boast was made, ‘‘Now for the muuntains!” the ruffian chief ordered, as the party passed through the door; but only fifteen or twenty steps had they pro- ceeded when the sharp revolver crack was heard, and down went the ruffian in the rear, with a hollow groan. The ‘‘ Cats” knew well enough what this por- tended. Panic-stricken, the burly ruffian drop- ped the senseless form of the l, but the avenger’s bullet was quicker far than he, and, even before he could s to run, again the re- volver spoke, and again the dying groan of an- guish announced the result. No braver man than the Cat chief, but, it was not in human nature to brave such a foe, there- fore no discredit to the outlaw that he took to his heels, expecting each instant to hear the ter- rible death-note of the pistol; but, another fate was in store for him than to perish on that spot, in silence and alone. Instead of a revolver report there was a whiz- zing of something hurtling through the air, and suddenly the loop of a lasso coiled itself like a deadly serpent around his neck, flexible as silk, but strong as steel. Instantly the noose tight- ened, and he was flung so violently to the ground that he was stunned to insensibility. Then from the covert glided a dark form. Rapidly he advanced to the fallen man, care- fully removed his weapons, and with the lariat bound his hands securely together. From the shed stable at the back of the cabin he now brought the ill-looking little mule, which, as the reader will remember, was used to transport the ill-fated disguised girl into Death Valley. The avenger placed the still insensible outlaw astride of the mule and bound him in a won- derful manner, so that he could not possibly fall or get off. This completed, he carefully raised the girl in his arms and carried her into the cabin, and laced her within the bunk. Then returning e took the bridle of the mule and set off toward the center of the town. CHAPTER XXX. THE LAST OF THE CATS. THE town had been in a fever of excitement all day long, over the stirring events which had taken place, and therefore at night the hotel and its vicinity were well-peopled. The hotel was the bead-quarters of the Vigilantes, and in one of the rooms Desmond had been confined. The citizens were in something of a quandary regarding the gambler, who stoutly protested that he was innocent of all wrong-doing, and, as - be had been arrested merely on suspicion—on ee eee Cool Desmond. a | ——— KK OC CC Tw a ee - - account of his bad name, as might be said, for a man who boldly declared that he was Des- mond, the Desperado, and had the audacity to call his saloon the Desperado’s Den, ought sure- ly to have a hand in any mischief that might be going on. The idea of the Vigilantes was that if they placed Desmond in durance vile he might make a confession and implicate the guilty parties, if he himself really had no hand in the matter, for, somehow, the miners had got it into their heads that the gambler knew something about the mysterious affair. But never a word, except to protest that he knew nothing whatever about it, would Des- mond say, although he was told that if he did not commit the actual murders himself, but would reveal who did, even if he had a hand in the affair, he should be permitted to go free, provided he would agree to leave the town—the old ideaof the Western verdict: ‘‘ Not guilty but the prisoner had better emigrate.” Desmond was resolute in saying that he knew nothing, so the Vigilantes shut him in a room, in the hotel, and placed a man over him with a drawn revolver as a guard, while the sentinel was given strict orders to shoot the prisoner at once if he attempted to escape. Public opinion was pretty well divided in re- gard to the gambler; some of tbe miners thought that he ought to be hung, anyway, asa sort of an example, while others declared that he wasn’t any worse than any of the rest, and that if he was banished from the camp it would be ample punishment. But about eleven o’clock that night a discov- ery was made which at once turned the current of public sentiment strongly against the cool and resolute sport. Desmond had managed to escape, and the armed guard had gone off with him! Instant pursuit was advocated, and while the excited miners, gathered in front of the hotel, were discussing the subject, down through the moonlit street came a spectacle that at once ex- cited great attention—of a person leading a mule, while on the back of the animal sat the strangest figure the streets of the mining camp had ever seen, that of a huge black cat, ap- parently bound securely to the steed. The ‘‘ procession ” halted right in front of the hotel, and the crowd, forming a circle around the three, stared in wonder. The Doctor as the chief of the Vigilantes took it upon himself to question the meaning of the masquerade, lt was the idiot boy who led the mule and he laughed his peculiar idiotic laugh as the ques- tion was asked. OO a chief Cat; all the rest are dead,” he re- plied. And then, through the minds of the bystand- ers came a glimmering of thetruth. The Cat band had cruelly murdered his relatives, and, at the same time, so injured him that reason had partly fled, but, with the strange cunning so common to the mind distraught, he had fol- .lowed on the track of the murderers, and as op- portunity offered had slain them one by one sparing only the chief, whom he had captur and brought into town to exhibit, on the same principle as a cat brings forward the rat she has caught. With eyes staring wide with wonder the miners gazed upon the dreaded leader of the most terrible band of ruffians that even that wild Western land had ever seen. And so, the Cats ada all destroyed—this, the leader, ex- cepted! ‘‘ But, who is he?” the Doctor asked, putting the question that all the crowd were impatient to have answered. | **Go look!” The Doctor did as he was bidden. With his knife he cut the fastenings of the mask; the horrid cat head fell to the ground, revealing the pale but determined features of Cool Desmond! A murmur of surprise arose on the air, for no one in all the crowd expected to behold the gambler. ‘‘Desmond!” cried the Doctor, in wonder, and then the crowd repeated the name. ‘“Very much at your service now, fellow- citizens, very much indeed,” the gambler re- marked, with the most perfect coolness. ‘* The game has gone against me; this fool has played a lone hand and played it so well that it has caused the death of twelve as good men as ever were banded together, and I, the thirteenth, am not likely to escape, although I shall probably die on the rope and not by the bullet of this cunning arb whom I had it in mind a dozen times to kill, but I spared him because I thought that he was harmless, and as I hada good deal f of blood belonging to his race on my hands al- ready I didn’t hanker after any more; but I am much obliged to him for this, for I much prefer the rope at your hands to the bullet from his.”’ At this point the idiot boy who had appar- ently not been paying attention at all to what the Cat leader had been saying, raised his hand abruptly and the sharp crack of a pistol rung out clear. A convulsive shudder ran through Desmond’s stout frame; he could not fall, for he was se- curely bound to the mule, but his head sunk forward—-he was dead! shot through the head as all the rest of the Cat band had been, the bullet entering a little above and in advance of the ear! ‘“‘Thirteen killed my father—thirteen have I killed!” he said, and then he walked slowly away, the crowd respectfully dividing and thus giving room to pass. From that night the idiot boy disappeared, and neither Death Valley nor the town of Juan- apolis ever saw him more. What became of him, no one ever knew. Our veracious tale is told, but a word is due to the reader in regard to the two pilgrims who had entered the valley with such a cloud of mystery hanging over them. Two sisters were they, by name Conejos— Constantia and Mary, nieces to the ill-fated Conejos whohad perished with all his family by the knives of the outlaws. With their father, who was a man of violent temper, they had resided at a little half-Mexi- can, half-American town on the upper Rio Grande, and some weeks before the time when we first introduce them to the notice of the reader, Mary Conejos, who was of a flighty and frivolous disposition, became involved in a love affair with a neighbor, whom it was afterward discovered was a married man. From this foolish love affair a bloody feud had arisen, and in a desperate encounter the girl’s father bad perished after killing three of his antagonists; and as the otber family had many relatives in the town, who of course gic their quarrel, the girls, utterly alone and friend- less, determined upon flight—Mary disguising herself as a boy to avoid detection and pur- suit. They had wandered by chance into the very valley where their kinsman and his family had met their bloody fate. On the trail they had met their idiot cousin, and he, recognizing the girls by their family likeness to his own sisters, remembering their terrible fate, first warned them away and then constituted himself a guar- dian angel to watch over them, and so had saved them from the outlaws. The death of the disguised girl was really a happy release, for she had brooded so much over the terrible tragedy-of which she was the original cause that her brain had become affect- ed, and the slightest reference to deeds of blood was sufficient to throw her into a spasm of fear. But, of the na Sag buried gold-dust of her uncle, the girl had not the slightest knowledge; and the treasures have never yet been discover- ed, although many have searched amid the old ruins. The destruction of the Cat band was a d thing for the valley, and no one regretted their violent ends, Old Lauderdale and his daughter soon moved away, going no one knew where; the half-breed could not bear to stay in the valley where her lover had perished. In due course of time Shannon told his soft oa mr beloved by the girl, who never regret- ted her choice. The desperado was suitably buried in a lonely spot amid the hills where the wild pines sin ever a mournful chant over the remains of Coo Desmond. THE END, The Sunnyside Library. 1 Latta Rooks. By Thomas Moore........... 10¢, 2 Don Juan, By Lord Byron... .............. 20¢e, 3 Parapise Lost. By John Milton ........ «vee. 10g 4 THe LADY oF THE LAKE. Sir Walter Scott... 10c 5 Lucrs. By Owen Meredith... ..:........... 10e. 6 UNDINE Ok, THE WATER-Sprritr. From the German of Friederich De La Motte Fouque... 10c, For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, postage paid, on receipt of twelve cents for single numbers. double numbers twenty-four cents. ADAMS, VICTOR & CO., Publishers, 98 William street, N. Y. | 900 GORGE S ee ——— — ee —