Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 222 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

+ es. > —— nt A a a eae i a —- => en oo - ne eee — — _ oo... — ee a ee - -—— up the outer seams, amd stuck in cavalry boots, upon which were massive silver spurs. Around his waist he wore a red eash, in which were stuck a pair of silver-mounted revolvers, and a large bowie-knife, while his bands were incased in gauntlet gloves, and a black sombrero, worked in silver thread, shel- tered his haughty head, Who could this dandy borderman be that was bending over her, thought Edith, and she glanced toward his dark red bay horse, with his splendid Mexican saddle and bridle, and then back upon the rider. Whoever he was he had saved her life, and shaking off the stupor upon her, Edith sprung to her feet, Before her lay half a dozen dark objects she knew were wolves, and far off on the prairie was visible Bonnyfoot, returning for protec- tion to the side of the one who had saved his mistress, for the instinct of the animal taught him that there lay safety for him. ‘You have rallied quickly, and I am glad you have received no harm.”’ The stranger spoke in a strangely soft, musi- eal voice for a man, and yet it was not effemi- nate, as there was that in its tone that told the maiden it had a volume of reserved power that danger or anger would bring out until it rung in trumpet tones. And in his face was that look of almost wo- manly sweetness; yet there were claws ’neath the velvet, should the stranger he aroused, it was evident. ‘*T owe you my life, sir, and for such a debt thanks are no payment,” she said in a tremb- ling voice, while tears filled her eyes. ‘‘T am happy to have served you, miss. I saw you coming, and not knowing whether you were friend or foe, lay down with my horse to hide in the grass, ‘‘ You have a brave heart to take your life rather than to meet the fate which threatened you.” | Edith shuddered, but answered: ‘‘Suicide was preferable to such a death, a thousand times.” *‘ And you are brave to be thus alone on the prairie.” ‘‘T am lost, sir. My father is Floyd Bal- four, and has a ranch somewhere near here, I believe it is.” ‘It is thirty miles away, further than your tired horse can travel; so come to yonder tim- ber, and I will build you a wickiup, give you some rations, and carry you home in the morn- ing.” Te was all that Edith could do, for she her- self, without rest, was not equal to the ride, and half an hour after she was sleeping peace- fully on the stranger’s blanket, beneath a brush shelter, while he stood guard over her and tho horses, and paced to and fro in the moonlight, ever watchful, yet apparently lost in deepest reverie, CHAPTER IV. GIVEN FOR GOLD. PRAIRIE REST RANCH was situated in one of the most fertile tracts of the Lone Star State, and from the day that Floyd Balfour bad pitched his tent there he had been steadily growing rich, for his herds of cattle dotted the plains, his horses were counted by hundreds, and a farm ofascore of acres was fenced in aud producing well. In a grove of timber, on the banks of a small stream, his cabin home, commodious, comfortable and well-furnished, was built, and about the door were flower-beds, and orna- mental trees he had planted with his own bands, to greet his daughter’s eyes, when she should come to her far-away frontier abode, fresh from the haunts of civilization. In caring for her new home, Edith Balfour had not seemed to miss society, and appeared happy. Her horses were ever ready for a gallop, her rifles and pistols, bow and arrows, and lasso, gave her pleasure in trying to become a profi- -cient in their use, her flowers it was a delight eee f | Grit, the Bravo Sport. _—-- a ee eee to attend to, and within doors she had her piano and guitar, her drawing and her house- hold duties, with books for pastime in rainy weather. ; ; A negro maid and old Aunt Jane, the cook, were the only other females within fifty miles; but there was her father for a companion, and a score of ‘‘cow-boys,” or herders, ever most polite to her, so that she seemed like a queen of a mimic realm, Reverses bad driven Mr. Balfour from his home in the East. His partner had defrauded him, failure had followed, and Floyd Balfour had been left pen- niless, : In this strait a friend in need was found. It was.a young man, a boy lover of Edith, who was then at school. His father had died and left Roy Brandt, at the age of twenty-one, the head of a large firm and master of his uwn affairs. He had called upon Mr. Balfour in his trou- ble and offered aid, which was refused. “No, Roy, it is very noble and kind of you; but I have a few hundreds left, and this sum will carry me to Texas, where I intend to set- tle, and I hope earn a living for myself and child,” was the reply of Floyd Balfour. “To Texas! why the very thing, Mr. Bal- four, and you can do me an immense service there,”’ : ‘* Indeed! may I ask how?’ ‘*] intend to start a cattle ranch there,” “You, Roy?’ sé Yos. ”? ‘* Is not this sudden?’ ““Oh, no, I have often thought of it,” was the ready lie of the noble-hearted young man. ‘Well, how can I serve you?’ ‘‘T know no more about cattle than I do about China, and I needed some good person to do the work for me,” ‘“ What do you wish done, Roy?’ “Pll tell you, Mr. Balfour: I’ve got fifteen thousand dollars I want to invest in a cattle ranch and stock. “You take the money, go to Texas, select a good place, build a fine house—” ‘Fine house?” ‘‘Oh, yes, for I intend to live there, if I can, one of these days.”’ The last was said in a doubtful tone, “ Well?” ‘¢ Build a fine shanty of some kind, and you run the place, and we will be partners.” ‘‘ Partners!” ‘6 Yes.” ‘You forget I have no money to match yours with.” ‘‘- You just said you had a few hundreds.” ‘¢-Yes, about a thousand dollars.” ‘‘That is more thanenough; put thatin, and your time and work, against my money, and we'll be equal partners.” Mr. Balfour saw what the young maf meant, and soon found out that argument was useless, so said: ‘‘T would not do it, Roy, unless I had some good security to offer for your money. You forget I bave just failed.” ‘Yes, but not by any fault of yours; no, sir, you must doas I ask,and security you have.” ‘é [?” ‘“Yes, you.” ‘* Name it!” The youth’s face flushed, but he said firmly: ‘‘Mr. Balfour, I am just over twenty-one, and your daughter Edith is fifteen; but I have loved her for years, though I know not whether she cares for me, as she is such a sad little coquette. ‘‘But if you will promise me her hand, as far as you are concerned, as security, we are partners from to day in a cattle ranch. ‘* What say you?’ ‘‘T say yes, for I know you to be a noble man, Roy Brandt,” earnestly said Mr. Balfour. ‘‘Wnough then! the bargain is agreed upon, the compact settled, and I draw up the papers at once; but not a word of this now to Edith?’ Ed —————— ee / 3 ‘‘No, we will keep the secret from her, at least for the present,” And that day the contract was duly signed by Roy Brandt and Floyd Balfour, and Ediib was pledged as security for the money investeit by the young merchant. One week after Floyd Balfour was on his way to Texas, and nearly two years after Edith joined him in his prairie home, and — that fortune had dealt most kindly with im. a CHAPTER V. THE RETURN. It was to this home in the prairies, that Edith Balfour, and her stranger escort, wend- ed their way, the day following the night that had so nearly proved fatal to maiden. Refreshed by her rest, Edith had awakened the next morning, to find the rays of the rising | sun penetrating her boWer, and the stranger preparing a frugal breakfast from his supply of coffee and crackers, and a juicy piece of venison, for he had shot a deer at dawn. In the daylight each found proof that their opinions formed the night before were not amiss, for the maiden beheld in her preserver a strangely handsome man, and in her he saw a degree of loveliness that had won his warm: est admiration. A good appetite both of them had for the tempting breakfast to hungry folks, and then the stranger raised Edith to her saddle, and sprung lightly upon the back of his own steed. But Bonnyfoot was lame and looked gaunt, for the work of the day before had utterly broken him down, forcing him beyond his powers of endurance. The ride therefore to the ranch, the locality of which the stranger seemed to well know, was a long one, though neither of those twe found it so, it seemed. When at last, late in the afternoon they ar- rived in sight of the ranch, they had become firm friends. And out toward them came in a gallop two score of men, assembled for a grand hunt for the missing maiden, whorwas supposed to have been captured by a band of red-skins that had been marauding the ranches of late. Search had already been made by Floyd Bal- four and his herders, until nearly all hope was given up, and then the rancheros and cow-boys had assembled for the trail of revenge, for all who knew the maiden loved her, and a bitter vengeance would they have visitea upon the Indians they found upon the war-path. With hats waving, their yells of delight echoing across the prairie, and at full speed, they came toward Edith and her preserver. But drawing near all reined back to allow the glad father to first greet his child. And such a meeting pen cannot describe, for he welcomed back one he had given up as ~ perhaps one who had suffered a worse ate. In a few words Edith told all her story, and every eye fell upon the stranger. Who was he? None knew. No one of that party of horsemen remem. bered to have ever seen him before, In a word almost he introduced himself: ‘*My name is Allan Arleigh, Mr. Balfour. I am from the East, and roving the Texas plains purely for pleasure of a wild life.” Floyd Balfour warmly greeted the young man, thanked him in trembling tones for the service he bad rendered his daughter and him- self, and added: ‘‘Now, as a gentleman of Jeisure, I beg you to become my guest, as leng as you care to re- main beneath my roof. ‘‘Come, for I will not have nay as an an- swer.” Thus invited and urged, Allan Arleigh be- came the guest of Floyd Balfour, But better for Edith had she died by her own hand that night on the moonlight prairie, bet- Eomichoo cS