Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 197 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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is, and then, if you value life, you had better ; lowlands on his aap a group of horsemen make tracks, for the boys from Rocky Glen will | coming on at a gallop, the station evidently | being their destination. “You don’t say! then our pards hain’t been | be along this way soon.” makin’ such a big thing o’ the strike along ther line ter night.” ‘*They have done enough to keep them in) remembrance, you can be assured,” and un- strappiog bis saddle and leather express sachel from bis dead horse, and patting bim affection- ately, Little Grit turned to go with the outlaw, | when he looked squarely into the muzzle of a | revolver, and heard in triumphant tones: *Leetle pard, ’m guessin’ Pl keep my hoss, an’ trouble yer fer them ’spress bags.” CHAPTER XI. THE LEAP FOR LIFE, “T was a fool to trust a wounded snake,” said Little Grit, with an air of almost reckless indifference at the position he found himself in. ** You takes it coolly; but when I tells yer thet thar is a price offered for you, an’ I in- tends ter win it, I guesses you'll wilt.” ‘Well, what are you going todo with me?” ‘Carry yer ter ther Boy Bandit, our chief, who fer some reason o’ his own, wants ter see yer durned bad.” “Well, let us be off; what shall I do?” ‘** March ahead o’ me, leetle pard, fer close to yer comp’ny are mighty dangersome.” Little Grit turned, as if to obey, and the outlaw half lowered his revolver; but it was an unlucky move on his part, for with the spring of a tiger the youth was upon him, and his gripe of iron held the weapon, while he said in the same tone of seeming indifference which he had before used: * Turn about is fair play; now make tracks, sir, or Pll repent and break your head asI have your arm.” ‘““Which way, leetle pard?”’ asked the thor- oughly alarmed man. ‘North, south, east or west, but go!” “Jist watch me!” and away the outlaw darted, most anxious to get out of range of the youth’s pistol and expecting a shot in his back, for he felt that he deserved it. With a light laugh at the man’s haste, and rejoicing at baving so cleverly turned the _ eS eee ea Saar tables against his foe, Little Grit took up his | saddle once more and started at a quick trot for the thicket, in which he found a long-bodied white horse hitched to a sapling. “Holy smoke! it is my own horse, Prairie Gull, they stole from me some months ago; ha! ha! old horse, have I got you once more;”’ and the boy threw his arms affectionately around the neck of the truly splendid animal, who recognized his young master with low neighs of delight. Unhitching him, and taking off the accouter- ments of the outlaw, Little Grit threw his own light saddle upon the back of Prairie Gull, und sprung upon his back, and away dashed the bridleless horse spinning along from the scene of the burned station, and proving to his young rider that he had not been injured by his short change of masters. ‘One hour and forty-five minutes behind Jockey Jack’s schedule time,” he said, drawing a small gold watch from +is pocket, and | glancing at the time by the moonlight, while his splendid horse, seemingly again flying along under the express sachels, ‘‘On, Gull, on! we must save old Barney,” he cried, and encouraged by the words of his rider Prairie Gull seemed to fairly fly, and ina few moments dashed up to the stockade. ‘*Q@uick, Barney! the outlaws are striking the stations, so get out your stock and strike for the hills,” shouted Little Grit, as he dis- mounted from his panting horse, and seized upon one of the animals in the pen, and which he knew to be a fast runner. ‘Waal, waal! what’s ther mather afther bein’?’ cried a voice with a tinge of the Emerald Islein it, and Barney the stock-tender came hustling out of the cabin, his rifle in hand. ‘‘The outlaws are raiding the Pony Stations; Jockey Jack’s been killed and I’m riding for him; Mustang Pete’s dead and his cabin in ashes, and yonder up the valley come a gang for you, Barney,” said the Wild Rider rapidly. ‘*1’m damntd if they gets me, my foine boy, or ther critters either, for I’m off with ther four legs ter cnst,” answered the old Irishman, and throwing his saddle and bridle on his favorite nag, and taking a few things out of his cabin, he mounted and rode out of the stockade, just as the half dozen horsemen came in sight, not two hundred yards away. ‘‘ How’s Leatherlegs’s wind, Barney?” called out Little Grit. ‘*Good as a hound’s, youngster.” “Then I’ll give those fellows a check, and you'll have more time to escape.” “You're a brave young ’un, mavourneen,” said Barney, and he dashed up the canyon near the cabin, while Little Grit, with loud cries darted directly toward the advancing horse- men. Instantly they came to a halt, and then quickly sought the cover of a clump of trees, until they saw that the boy was alone, and then they charged forth to meet him, firing their revolvers as they came. Little Grit would have wheeled and ridden ou up the pony trail; but he suddenly realized that he did not have one of his own well-trained horses under him, that he had taught to run without a bridle, and with regret he saw that Leatherlegs would not turn back at his com- mand. “Well, go right through, brute,” he cried, and with a revolver in each hand and a loud i rejoicing to be. ran with a speed that hurled the miles rapidly | behind him. It was a rough piece of road between Mus- | tang Pete’s station, and the one fifteen miles | beyond, but Prairie Gull seemed worthy of his name, and over hill, lowland, and down dale he ran with the same ease and swiftness, his hoofs seeming hardly to touch the ground. Presently there arose a hill before them that the Wild Rider knew would give him a view of the station ahead, and he peered anxiously forward, while a shout broke from his lips as he saw that it still stood and that the outlaws had not yet visited it. But, as he looked he saw far down in the yell, he spurred right into the midst of the horse- men, There were rapid shots fired, a fall of a man and a horse, loud curses, shouts,and then a ringing cry, us the Wild Rider, unhurt dasbed on, “The Wild Rider !” The cry rung eut loud from the lips of an outlaw who had recognized him, and, unmind- ful of their fallen comrade, the party started in pursuit, a dismounted man, whose horse had been killed, following on the steed of his slain companion, “Now show your heels, you devil!” said Little Grit grimly, and he sunk his spurs into Leatherlegs in no pleasant humor, and after hard work turned him in the direction he wished to go, though he was now far off the regular Pony Express Trail. But Leatherlegs, from sheer fright, seemed stubborn, and dar ted up a mountain path, that Little Grit knew terminated abruptly at a cliff that overhung the deep river, fifty feet beneath. “*Great God! he’ll kill us both,” cried Wild Rider; but looking behind and seeing that his pursuers were pressing him hard, he continued on up the hillside. “I was a fool not to bridle him, that I might break bis jaw,” muttered the youth, as the flying animal, having gained the summit, sped along the rocky ridge with frightful rapidity. To spring off among the rocks would result in broken limbs, if not instant death, and the youth knew that there was but one way to get ‘ 7 ee — oo ———$———— — ae down the mountain, and that was by the path he had come, and behind him, not sixty yards, came the outlaws in hot chase. No, there was another way—off the cliff to the river below.” “Tt is fifty good feet, but Til risk it,” he muttered through his teeth. But us he settled himself well for the leap Leatherlegs began to slacken his pace, as if well knowing what was before him. “On! on! yor brute! you shall not fail me again,” cried the boy, and he drove the spurs into the flarn‘s of the steed, and with shouts urged him again into a full run. But again the frightened horse slackened his speed to once more spring forward with a snort of rage and pain, as he felt the keen point of the youth’s knife pricking his back. ‘““Aha! I am master now, if I drive you to kill us both,” said the youth, and as the cliff, barren of trees and jutting out over the river, came in view, he added: “Our trail lies on the other bank, old horse, and yowll have saved ten miles by the jump; if you do not take us both to death.” And again the horse slackened, but again did knife, spur and shout urge him on, and with a frantic snort he bounded into the air and took the mighty leap, while, horrified at the act, the outlaws drew rein suddenly and uttered loud exclamations of amazement and admiration. Once free from the cliff, and Leatherlegs drew himself up in a heap and with his fearless rider sitting upright in his saddle went down like a rock, arid the outlaws heard the loud report as be struck the river. Down beneath the dark waters sunk steed and rider, and for what seemed a long time the river closed above them; but then up above the surface they came, and as the splendid animal, unhurt, but frantic with fright, struck out for the shore the outlaws heard the ring- ing shout that came from the triumphant youth, and hastening to the cliff gazed upon him as he sped along on the trail, bis mocking laughter rebounding with many an echo from the rocks. CHAPTER XII. THE SPIRIT OF THE CANYON, I WILL now return to the heroine of my story, pretty Bessie Benton, who my kind reader will remember was thrown heavily to the ground, and who lay unconscious on the green sward, as the Spirit of the Canyon rode up. Had Bessie not been insensible, she would have seen a slender form, graceful and lithe, spring quickly from the back of her snow- white steed, and approaching her, bend above her. ‘* Poor girl, I hope she is not injured; but I was determined to capture her,” said a soft voice, and, as she passed her bands rapidly over the form of the prostrate girl, she added: ‘*No bones are broken, and I will soon re- store her to consciousness.” Diligently she set to work, and presently Bessie awoke from insensibility to find bending over her a face of rare beauty, yet with a stern look that seemed out of place upon the fair features. She was clad in white, her robe was loose and flowing, and a yail of gauzy material, en- circled her head, and could be drawn at ‘will across her face, giving her a ghastly appear- ance. Noticing Bessie start and shrink from her, she said quickly: “Do not fear me, for I will not harm you.” “Who are you?’ asked Bessie in a low tone. ** An outcast.” The tone was bitter, the word had a dis- agreeable sound, and it brought pity rather than fear from the stock-tender’s daughter, for she said earnestly, while now fully recovered, she arose to her feet: “‘T am sorry for you.” “Don’t pity me, for I deserve not the pity EOmicbooks