Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 222 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

She had gone by 9 AEC ES 2 a taken her horse, ber bank-book, and some articles of clothing, and they had trailed her to the town. There she had sold her horse, and taken the stage to the nearesi railroad :.tation, and there they had lost all trace of her. Then, before Roy Brandt came the remem- brance of the oath she had made at her father’s grave, and he felt assured that she had gene forth on the trail of its fulfillment, and he mut- tered: “ Allan Arleigh, wherever you are that wo- man will find you, and yORS doom is sealed.” CHAPTER XIX. GATHERED THREADS. In his drifting about the West, after his es- cape from the Mexican soldier s, Il can only follow Allan Arleigh, the chief of the Bravos of the Chaparrals, and the daring gambler, where it is necessary to do so in collecting to- gether the threads of my story, and weaving them with the romance known as “ Bison Bill, the Prince of The Red Riders of the Overland.”’ From Mexico into New Mexico, from Santa Fe to Kansas, went Allan Arleigh, there gaining a name as the Dead Skot Sport, from the numerous encounters he became en- gaged in, and his ready hand with the revol- ver, and ‘deadly aim, when his finger touched the trigger. But his restless nature tired of the increas- ing civilization of Kansas, and next he ap- peared in Beehive City, a minimg town in the Laramie Mountains. Here he put up at the Beehive Palace, the best hotel, paid out bis money liberally, and had not been a sojourner long in his new home before circumstances of a deadly nature in which he was concerned, gained for him the sobriquet of ‘‘ Grit the Gambler.”’ And, while at Beehive City, learning of the rewards offered for the curse of the overland, a noted band of road-agents, who had become known as the Red Riders, he sought to pocket the handsome sum to be paid for their capture or death, and set out on their trail to discover, after he had shot down their chief, that he was his own father, who like his son, had gone to the bad. Succeeding his father as a Red Rider, and chief, he soon came to grief, for his pretended comrades, which were nothing but stuffed figures, mounted on trained horses, were run over one day by Buffalo Bill, then known as Bison Bill the Prince of the Reins, and the secret discovered, while Allan Arleigh, and bis only companion, Stinging Snake a Ute chief, were forced to fly for their lives, But ere he fled Allan Arleigh bad recognized one whom he knew could only have come there on nis trail, and of her he stood in mor- tal terror, though he feared no man alive, That one was a young girl, for so she ap- peared to be, who had been stopping at the Beehive Palace, none knew why, for some lit- tle time, She was very beautiful, and utterly fearless: a superb horsewoman, a dead shot, drove the six-in-hand stage-coach better than most of the overland drivers, and evidently had some im- portant mission in life to fill. Out of her own pocket she had offered five thousand dollars reward for the Red Rider chief alive, anda thousand extra for each one of his men dead or alive. Upon the hotel books she was registered as Edith Ford; but her real name was Raith | Ford Balfour, ip _Grit, % the Bravo Sport. and she was on the trail ef Beehive City, she again started forth upon the trail of Allan Arleigh, for she bad not forgot- ten her oath, made at her father’s grave. Having now, in the foregoing chapter, shown my readers the cause that Edith had to hate and pursue the man who had wrecked ber life, I will now beg them to follow my ink- trail, in unraveling the other deeds of Grit the Gambler, and the young woman who trailed him without mercy to the bitter end. CHAPTER XX. THE DEATH-STRUGGLE. * WELL, Snake, that was a narrow escape we made,’ and Allan Arleigh turned to the Ute chief, who bad been his father’s aide, and firm friend, and after that father’s death by the hand of his renegade son, the stanch ally of that son. The twowere encamped in a wild canyon of the mountains, many leagues from the Red Riders camp, and they bad pressed their horses to their utmost endurance for fifteen long hours. Then, believing that they were free from pursuit, in fact, having so covered up their trail as to have no fear, they had gone into camp fer balf a-day and a night’s rest. ‘* Ugh!” Such was the only reply of the Stinging Snake to Allan Arleigh’s remark. ‘‘T guess you would have said more than ‘ugh’ had they caught us, Snake.” ‘Snake not 'fraid,”’ ‘*T believe you.” e ‘‘ Snake big chief.” “ Correct—chief of the no-warrior tribe.” The Indian did not master the sarcasm, and believing it to be a compliment remained silent. After awhile Allan Arleigh said: “T believe, Snake, my august father gave you some papers of value, and a mission to perform?” ‘*Ugh!” *Confound you, American English?’ sé Yes.” “My father, the chief of the Red Riders, whose noble career I cut short with a bullet, thereby becoming heir to his dummy horsemen and effects, left you some papers to-be deliv- ered to some one that he wished to see that their demand was carried out to the letter?” Stinging Snake could not master all this, so had the good sense to remain silent. ‘‘) say, Snake, my father gave you some papers which you are to give to a pale-face in the East?” 4s Yes. ”? ‘‘ Let me see that paper?’ ** ie.” “‘The devil you won’t!” ce No.” “But you must.” ‘*No,” ‘Look here, Indian, I am no man to trifle with.” “Me no Injun make fun of.” ‘‘Curse you! I say give me those papers,” and the eyes of Allan Arleigh flashed fire. ‘‘No, he ask me give ’em to pale-face in big city; Snake have money, go there, and give ‘em.’ ¢ The devil you say,” was the angry retort of Grit the Gambler. “« Snake talk straight; no like bad pale-face; | kill his father. ‘That’s frank at least; well, you'll like me less before Tam done with you,” and without you cannot understand Allan Arleigh, and behind that the Red Rider | an instant’s warning, he threw himself upon chief was the one she sought. After the breaking up of the Red Riders’ ynountain camp, by the party under Buffalo Bill, and of which party Edith Balfour formed | one, the beautiful woman seemed almost broken-hearted at the escape of the man she had so untiringly, and persistently trailed for two years. But her brave heart rallied quickly, and bid- | | the Indian, his clutch upon his throat, Insts intly , although taken wholly by sur- prise, Stinging Spake met his attack half-way, giving one loud battle-cry, @ war- -whoop, anda fierce struggle began. Over the velvety grass they rolled, now on their feet, then on their knees, and again roll- ing Over and over in the death-fight. The Indian was a man of large frame and I — hl LR ging farewell to the friends she bad made in | very powerful,-ang had the courage of a lion. | > ong tarts atid le Uo eee The gambler was as quick as lightning in his movements, possessed great strength, and had the cunning and pluek of a tiger. Neither spoke, for both realized that there could be but one end to the combat, and that one must die. Each grasped his knife, yet each hand that held it was in the gripe of iron of the other, And thus it went on, the combatants pant- ing, whirling, falling, rising, bending in the fierce combat, until the sweat fell from their faces like rain, their eyes seemed fairly to emit sparks of fire, and their muscles and veins stood out like whip-cords. Neither would yield, neither halted for rest, but on they struggled and struggled, until it became but a question of who could last the longest. Had Grit the Gambler known the great power of the Indian he would not have sprung upon him, but coolly shot him down, But, having made the mistake, he was not one te back down. The: papers he knew the Indian possessed he was determined to have, and, not caring for his red ally longer, and fearful of treachery, for Stinging Snake bad never liked him, he was willing to kill bim then and there. At last the red-man’s muscle showed signs of weakness under the fearful strain, and in- stantly realizing it Grit the Gambler began to press him further. But still the Indian struggled on, until he was bent backward by his more enduring foe, and thus held until his last atom of strength. failed, Feeling that he must die, the red-skin never winced, but in his panting tones, growing weaker and weaker, began to chant his dying, song. At last the death-song died away, for the savage was utterly prostrated, the gripe that held the knife-hand of the gambler relaxed, and instantly deep into the bronze bosom sunk keen blade, Down to the earth dropped the Stinging Snake, and tottering backward a few paces, Grit the Gambler sunk upon the grass utterly prostrated, and the death-struggle was at an end, CHAPTER XXII, WHAT THE WALLET REVEALED. Ir was a long time before Grit the Gambler had rested sufficiently to get to his feet once more, But at last he shook off the fatigue, took a bath in the limpid stream near |by, arranged his toilet most carefully, resorted to a flask of liquor for refreshment, and walked coolly over to the side of the dead Indian, in whose broad breast the knife still remained. Carefully he searched the body, taking from it a leather wallet of papers, and then into the swift, deep stream the Stinging Snake was thrown, while, with a triumphant smile the gambler opened the wallet. “Money! Well, that is acceptable always,” ‘‘Ah! here is something that interests me deeply,” and he read aloud as follows; "$5,000 REWARD, ‘“‘T will pay to the one who captures alive the chicf of the road-agent band, known as THE RED RIDERS, the sum of FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS and to whom shall also capture, or ial any member’ of his band, the sum of ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS, for each and every one taken or slain. ‘‘Eprra orp, ‘“‘ Beehive Palace, ““ Beehive City.” ‘‘ Ah! this ‘Edith Ford’ is none other than the woman I hid from the other day in the canyon; my wife. 4 Yos, Edith Ford Balfour Arleigh; hal ha! ha! that is good, ‘‘Well, she is really my wife, and she’s hot on the trail, and this document, which my late worthy father picked up somewhere, proves. that she believed me to be the Red Rider: Chief; she wasn’t far wrong, egad! OOo) com (E (E(0)