Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 197 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

8 of the good and pure; you are Bessie Benton, I believe?” se Yes. ” ‘Your father is Daniel Benton, a stock-ten- der for the Pony Express Company?” ‘é He is. ”? ** Why does he remain in this wild land?’ ** He is poor, and sougbt here to make a liv- ing for himself and child.” ‘‘ A living on the poor pittance he receives as stock-tender?’ | ** It is sufficient for our wants.” ‘*Ts he not a miner too?” Vek’ Yes.” ** And has found gold?” ‘No, he has been particularly unfortunate in his gold-digging.” ** Are you certain?’ sé Yes. ” “Girl, would you lie to me?’ and the strange woman laid her hand upon Bessie’s arm, ‘* How dare you, because you are false your- self, accuse me of wrong?” said Bessie indig- nantly. ‘Pardon me: I deserve your rebuke, and I believe you: but itis strange that a man of education, such as 1 know your father to be, and who has a daughter whose beauty would make her a belle in any land, should remain in this wild country, throwing away his time for a few dollars a month,” ‘You know him then?” asked Bessie quick- ly. ‘Yes, I have met him.” — He hopes to find gold, which will enable him to return home again and live in comfort,” ‘Why came he here?’ » Bessie did not reply, and the woman again asked : ‘‘ Why did he come to this wild land?” ** Misfortune brought him here,” _ “ Are you sure?” ie) Yes. ” ‘‘It was not crime that drove him here?” “To you insult me because you have the power?” ‘*Forgive me again: if your father is not the pauper he seems,and if he is a criminal, hiding from justice, I believe you do not know it; but I am forced to take you with me.” Whither?’ * Where do you think?’ After a moment of hesitation, Bessie re- plied: ‘It is said that you are the ghost of a lady who was murdered in the Haunted Canyon, some years ago; but my good sense causes me to laugh at the superstition,” ‘‘Then why did you fly from me?’ **T will tell you; the bandits came to my father’s house, and because he would not give his gold, which they said he had, up to them, they hanged him, and—” : ‘* Do you mean this?’ quickly asked the wo- man, ‘é Yes. ” ‘“He was hanged before your eyes?” “e Yes.”’ ** And is dead?’ * Alas! I left him hanging to a beam in our cabin, while I started for Rocky Glen Sta- tion.” ** For what purpose?” ‘To rouse the miners to avenge him,” was the almost savage reply. ** And you were there alone with your fa- ther when the bandits came?” a ** Who led them?” ‘A man they called Pet.” ‘* Ah, he is a pet of Satan.” ‘You know him then?” “Yes: but how did you escape from him?” “The Wild Rider dashed up—” ia) Ah!” ‘Just as the man, Pet, ordered his follow- ers to hang me, as they had my father, for they had the rope around my neck,” ‘* And this Wild Rider rescued you?” ‘He came into the cabin, and single-handed attacked them, released me, and putting me on a horse sent me to Rocky Glen Station for help.” ‘Your station is not on his line of run?” ‘No, not now that he has taken the longer run which broke the other riders down,” ‘‘Were they not a little afraid of me, the Spirit of the Canyon?” ‘‘T think so; but Little Grit did not fear you.” ‘‘ He fears nothing; and he has gone on along the trail?” se Yes.” “Tf be escapes death he bears a charmed life, for I tell you frankly the stations for fifty miles are to be raided to-night.” ‘How know you this?” “T have a way of finding out,” was the significant reply. ‘And yet, being a woman, you did not warn them of danger?” indignantly asked Bes- sie, ‘‘Té was not to my interest to do so,” was the quiet response. ““ How mean you?” ‘‘T am a member of the Mountain Bandits,” ‘sé Vou /” . “Yes, am I not vile enough to be anything?” was the bitter question. ‘“‘T had not suspected you of this: I have heard of the Spirit of the Canyon for a long time, but believed the Pony Riders were governed by their superstitious fancies, until Wild Rider said he saw you.” ‘Yes, I tried to frighten him one night, but he gave chase at once, and I barely escaped him.” ‘But I cannot beliove you belong to the Mountain Bandits.” *‘ How else could I live in this wild region?” “T know not; but I had not believed that of you.” *T told you I was wicked; but come, you are my prisoner.” ‘‘ A prisoner to the Bandits?” asked Bessie, in alarm. ‘“Yes; but I pledge you no harm shall be- fall you.” ‘*'You are but a woman, and what will they eare for your word of command?” ‘You shall see; come!” “Oh, do let me go, for oh! I am so very wretched,” ‘You entreat in vain; you are a prize that may be found most valuable to me, but again I pledge you my word that no harm shall be- fall you.” Bessie buried her face in her hands and burst into tears, and looked up only when she felt a light touch upon ber arm. It was the Spirit of the Canyon, and by her side stood her snowy steed, and then the mai- den saw the secret of the noiseless hoof-falls among the rocks. His hoofs were muffled, and his tread gave back no sound. CHAPTER XIII. THE STOCK-TENDER’S STORY. Rocky GLEN was a scene of considerable ex- citement, shortly after noon on the day follow- ing the eventful night that opens my story, for much had transpired, even in that lund of wild adventure and strange scenes, to arouse the rude denizens of that border retreat Knowing by long and frequent experience that it would be impossible to overtake the Boy Bandit and bis men, after Little Grit had | come in and reported the pursuit of himself and Helen Hewlett, the miners had passed the night in gambling and discussing the advisability of raising a force of Vigilantes to hunt to death the curses of the Overland. Had poor Bessie Benton arrived with her sad story, the entire population of Rocky Glen would have been up in arms, and over a hun- dred horsemen would have taken the trail at once; but the reader will remember, that the maiden had been run down by the Spirit of the Canyon, and could not bear the tidings to the station. At dawn the gamblers sought rest, but a few we Little Grit, the Wild Rider. hours after they were up again, when the news flew around that a train was coming into the hamlet, and Colonel Hewlett and his party, found a curious crowd to greet them, as they rode up to the Riders’ Rest, ‘‘ Ah, colonel, glad to see you back, sir,” said the hospitable host of the tavern. “Thank you, sir; I have come to ask for quarters for myself and daughter for a few days, as a courier has just overtaken me with orders to establish a new post, or fort, in this vicinity, and 1 shall at once select a site, for | am anxious to put down the lawlessness on this border,” ‘You will find it no easy task, colonel, as crime is deep-rooted here; but I can give you fair accommodations, and plenty to eat, as long as yourself and daughter are my guests. ** You look a little pale after your adventure last night, Miss Hewlett,” and the judge ushered his guests into their rooms, the best two in the rambling, one-storied tavern. Half an hour after the wagons were corraled on a piece of meadow-land, the soldiers, a small battalion, were encamped on the banks of a pleasant stream, and with the few emi- grants that had come West with the train, to find new homes, the settlement of Rocky Glen presented a most stirring scene, and the gam- bling element, at the head of whom was the Kid Glove Sport, flattered themselves that they would now have some pigeons to pluck of their golden feathers. After the noonday dinner at the Riders’ Rest, the idle denizens of Rocky Glen were wont to assemble upon the natural lawn in front of the tavern fora smoke and gossip, and as many had not gone to work that day, in the mines and at their various other duties, there con- sequently had gathered a large crowd to dis- cuss the late arrivals, the building of the new post, and other topics in which the settlers were interested. ‘‘T tell yer, pards, thet Boy Bandit an’ his gang is going to find it interestin’ fer ’ein now ther sogers hes comed an’ we hes a larger com- munity o’ folks,” said Trumps, removing his Indian pipe from his mouth, and looking around upon the crowd as though he had just made some very wise remark. ‘‘T dunno, Trumps, ef he are or not, for he’s ascreamer, an’ nobody’s got clutch on him yet, an’ it’s seldom any o’ his pards is tuke in out o’ ther wet,” responded Bony Bob. “They does say nobody knows who’s ther gang, for it can turn out at times over half a hundred men, an’ I has allus noticed when they was raidin’ in force, thet fellows round heur were mighty scarce.” ‘You don’t mean to assert, Trumps, that any of our citizens here are secret members of the Boy Bandit’s band?” said the Kid Glove Sport, removing a cigar from between bis lips, with his daintily gloved hand, and looking fixedly into the miner’s. face. ‘“*T does say as how thet thar were a thinnin’ out o’ folks in Rocky Glen, both times the Boy Bandit made a grand raid on ther south- ern trails; why you wasn’t heur yerself, Kid Gloves, ary time.” ‘‘Am I to understand that you mean to im- ply that J being absent from here at the times you speak of, am a secret member of the Boy Bandit’s band?” and the Kid Glove Sport arose and his eyes burned menacingly. ‘Tf ther shoe I gi’n yer fits, my festive pard, yer kin jist put it on an wear it,” was Trumps’s cool reply; but before an angry retort could be made by the Kid Glove Sport, a man sud- denly appeared in their midst, and from his lips came the trembling words: ‘‘Men, my child, have you seen her?” It was Daniel Benton, and his face was hag- gard, white and stamped with both mental and bodily pain, while around his neck were the cruel marks of the lariat with which he had been strung up the night before. ‘Yer child, yer gal, Dan; whar is she?’ asked Trumps quickly turning to the stock- tender, who was well known at Rocky Glen. ‘*‘ Yes, Trumps, she started for this place last Eomicboo (E CS (ECO)