Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 222 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

‘* He followed you, pressing his horses hard, to where your husband and yourself had en- camped in the hills, and then he met his doom by a shot from the rifle of Allan Arleigh. ‘In that.lonely canyon he found burial, and when his herders returned and told all, I, hav- ing recovered from my wound, swore to,track Allan Arleigh to his doom. ** Edith, you know all that. I can tell you, other than that I wish you to return to Prairie Rest Ranch, and there make your home.” She uttered no word, her face was livid, and her speechless, silent grief was fearful for him to look upon. At first he feared that the shock had driven her reason away, and to rouse her, he said: “Come, Edith, you must leave here.” * Yes, I will go with you.” Turning, she called her maid, ordered her in a calm tone to have her horse saddled, and to collect a few things she needed. Rey Brandt, who had removed bis disguise, stood by in silent wonder, and when she was ready, led her to the court, placed her on her horse, and the two rode away, Arriving near the hidden camp of his men, Roy Brandt asked: ** Will you care to see your—” “* No! **Let me remain in your camp until the at- tack is over. “Then take me back to my home.” It was all she said, and Roy Brandt carried her to the secluded thicket, left her in charge of one of the herders whom she knew, and seeking the Mexican lieutenant, bade him fol- low to the attack. Within a clump of bushes near the hacienda the men halted, while Roy Brandt rode ahead and again sought admittance, telling the gate- man that the senora h orgotten something. Recognizing bim as tncone with whom the senora bad ridden forth, the guard opened the gate, to fall dead in his tracks, shot down by Roy Brandt. Then, with wild yells the assailants came swiftly on, dashed into the court, and the fight became hot and fierce, for the Bravos of the Chaparral rallied after the first surprise. But amazed, alarmed, and overpowered they were soon shot down, or captured, and the place was given up to the victors to be sacked for booty. But, thanking the Mexican officer for his aid, and leaving him in charge, Roy Brandt re- turned to the camp, and orders were given to begin the march homeward. Without a word Edith allowed herself to be raised to her saddle, and all of the Texans having returned, excepting those who had been slain, and to whom their comrades had given decent burial, the word was given to march. Then Edith spoke, asking in a low tone: ‘Where is he?’ ‘You mean Allan Arleigh?’ pC “Tleft him in the charge of the Mexican officer.” “What will be his fate?’ ‘* Death.” ‘“* He deserves it.” 3 Then on they rode, Edith remaining as speechless as a Sphinx on the march, until they reached the hills where Allan Arleigh and her- self had encamped, and where her father had met his death. The party halted here for the noonday rest and meal, and Edith said to Roy Brandt: ‘*Remain here all night, please, Mr. Brandt?” “If you desire it.” “Ido desire it; I wish to see my father’s grave,” ‘1 will lead you there.” “No, I wish to go alone; I can find it, for I remember the canyon.” Toward evening she came out of the little bower the kind herders had erected for her, and was wending her way down toward the canyon, when there was heard the sound of hoof-falls, and up dashed five horsemen a mo- ment after. _ Grit the Bravo Sport. Their trappings and uniforms were Mexican, and at their head was the young officer who had led in the expedition with Roy Brandt. 4* Well, Lieutenant Diaz, this is an unexpect- ed pleasure,” said Roy Brandt advancing toward him as he dismounted. “‘T regret, Senor Brandt, to say that my coming is no pleasure to me, for I have to re- port the escape of the chief of the Bravos.” ‘‘Allan Arleigh escaped?’ cried Roy Brandt in alarm. ‘It is too true, senor; he had plenty of gold with bim, bribed the two soldiers who guarded him, and, with them fled to the mountains, while I hastened on after you to give you the tidings.” Something very like an oath came from the lips of Roy Brandt, while Edith suddenly glided forward and asked: ‘*TIs this true, senor?’ ‘‘- Yes, senora,”’ “Then shall Ihave my revenge,” and her burning eyes showed that she was in deadly earnest, CHAPTER XVIIL. EDITH’S OATH. ArteR her implied threat of revenge, and which was said in a manner that impressed all who heard it, Edith turned away and walked calmly down toward the canyon. The eyes of Roy Brandt fellowed her until she disappeared from sight, and then he hastily excused himself to the Mexican officer, who was to remain at the camp until the morrow, and by a nearer cut down the mountain side, he sought the vicinity of the grave. A small thicket afforded him shelter, and here he concealed himself and waited for the coming of Edith. In thus playing the spy upon her actions he had a deep motive, which was to prevent her from harming herself. She had been so statue-like, so calm through all, that he feared she had made up her mind to take her own life and thus end her misery. Her face also, had changed from its pallor to a flushed look, which indicated fever, and in touching her hands he had found them very hot. Presently she appeared and walking calmly up to the grave knelt down by its side, At the head, Roy Brandt had, when on his way to Mexico, placed there a board with the name and date of death of the ranchero, and which rude monument to the dead he had had made at the ranch before leaving. Upon this the eyes of Edith were turned, and she read aloud: ‘*In MEMORY ‘OF FLOYD BALFOUR, who fell on this spot by the hand of an assassin whom he deemed his friend. ‘* Born in Boston, Mass., Dec. 25th, 18—. * Killed on the Texas border, Nov. 10th, 18—.” For a moment after reading the inscription Edith remained silent. But no tear came to her eye, no word of re- gret, or of sorrow. But at last she broke forth in ringing tones: ** Allan Arleigh, you saved me from death and I loved you. ‘“T gave you my heart, believing you a noble man. P ‘‘T have found you to be the vilest of the vile, a serpent, ay, all that is bad. ‘‘T know you as you are, and know that your hand took my father’s life, because he knew you as you are, and sought to rescue me from your power. ‘Thus knowing you, I swear you shall not escape my vengeance. “You are free once more, and I glory that it is.so, for I will have now the chance to strike back. *“ Ay, Allan Arleigh, I here, above the grave of my murdered father, swear to track you to the bitter end and yet see you die. ‘‘God in Heaven, register my sacred oath in the Book of Doom.” Roy Brandt could hear every word, and it made him tremble with awe. But, as she uttered the last word a wild shriek broke from her lips, and she fell for- ward across the grave. When he reached her she was unconscious, and raising her in his strong arms, he bore her back to camp and summoned Venner, the old “ Doctor Herder,” as his comrades called him, and who preved one of the party. ‘‘She is delirious and has brain fever, Mr. Brandt,” said Venner quickly. ‘‘Then we dare not leave her; write out pre- scriptions for what medicines you need, and @ list of all you want, and I will send mén to the nearest Army Post for them,” said Roy Brandt. The list was soon ready, and at full speed three men started for the Army Post, distant fifty miles. Then Roy Brandt set to work and rapidly the men erected a small cabin, and then threw up works to defend themselves against any roving bands of Indians that might come upon them. Within twelve hours the men returned from the Post with all that was ordered, and more too, for upen a pack-horse was an army cot, and many other articles to make the invalid comfortable. And then, in the solitude of the mount ins, the little band of a score of brave me. re- mained for long weeks, awaiting the cri-is to pass, which would tell them that Edith was to live or die. And tenderly, through all, she was nursed by Venner, the herder, and Roy Brandt, whose haggard faces and sunken eyes told how severe had been their vigils. At last the crisis came, and passed, and Edith opened her eyes in full consciousness, Her fever went from her, and she knew who they were that bent over her cot, and said: “‘T have been very sick?” or) ‘‘ How thin I am!” (t 'Y es, ”? ‘¢‘ How long have I been ill?” “Rive weeks.” She started, and said: “So Jong?” ‘*'Yes, Edith; but you will recover now, so you must not worry or talk,” said Roy Brandt, ‘] will be good, for I have an oath to ful- fill.” ‘Sh— Edith.” ‘Who have been my nurses?” ‘‘Dr. Venner here and myself.” “Thank you: I will get well,” Presently she again asked. ‘Where am I?” *‘In the mountains,” ‘“ Ah, yes; I remember nothing after falling upon my father’s grave; are we near that?’ “ec Yes.” She said no more and from that day rapidly improved, But it was two weeks before the start home. ward could be made, and then onl y a few miles a day could be Jeft behind them. But steadily she improved, and from travel- ing on her cot, swung on poles borne on the shoulders of four of the faithful herders, she asked to ride, and after that day said she was no longer an invalid. Having learned from Roy Brandt of the se- vere fight they had had with a band of In- dians who had attacked them, and of the camp- life they led, she did not again refer to the past, and each day became more cheerful. At last the ranch appeared in sight, and once more Edith found herself in the prairie home she had learned to love so well. The following day after her arrival Roy Brandt took his departure, saying that pressing business called him back to Boston. But three mouths after he was called back to Prairie Rest Ranch, by a letter from Jack Harding, who was the Superintendent, who told him that Edith had mysteriously disap- peared. | EONMICELOOO (EO) ee ee