Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 222 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

eo ‘Well, Harry?” he called out. ‘Well, pard, I did not expect to see you here!” cried the herder. ‘Ne, but you have ridden hard.” ‘‘ Yes, had to; but where is Mr. Brandt?’ ‘Ah yes, he expected to wait for you here, but could not, so I waited to tell you.” ‘Could not wait; why where in thunder has he gone?’ asked the herder in surprise. ‘* Where he expects you to follow, Harry,” was the cool reply. ** And where is that, pard?” ‘To the devil with my compliments.” Lone Star Harry was quick on the draw, but he had not suspected such base treachery, and he fell from his horse a dead man, his hand upon his pistol which was but half out of the holster. ‘* You go next,” said the merciless man, and | he brought down the animal of the fallen herder, and then seeking the spot where Roy Brandt had left his horse tied, deliberately | took out his knife and drew it across the | throat ef the beast. | | ‘That job is ended: now to return to the | side of my fair Edith,” he said with a smile, | and mounting once more his own steed, he set | off in a gallop across the prairie, the gloom | gathering around him, and the remembrance | of his dark deeds, seeming not to affeet his | light nature in the least, | CHAPTER XII. THE FATAL STEP. IMPATIENTLY to and fro Edith Balfour paced the rustic piazza of her cabin home, and glanced continually out over the rolling prairie. ‘Will he never come?” ‘Has aught befallen him?” Such were the questions she momentarily asked herself to find no answer. ‘* Edith, my child, why are you so restless?” asked her father joining her. ‘‘T do not know, papa, other than that I {vel a deep oppression ere,” and she laid her hand upon her heart. ‘‘'You have been keeping too close of late, and not taken your usual exercise.” ‘* No, it is not that.” “You are anxious about the Allan Arleigh?”’ ‘* Yes, papa; he said he would return by dark, and it is now after nine o’clock. ‘*T fear some accident has befallen him.” ‘* No, no, not the slightest danger; he can take care of himself, and I only wish ke could not.”” | ** Father!” ‘ T cannot help it, Edith, for I have begun to hate that man as well as doubt him—hark!”’ ‘‘ Ah! there he comes, for 1 know the way he rides.” Mr. Balfour said something that sounded very much like a muttered oath and returned to his room and his accounts, just as a horse- man dashed up. ‘‘ Well, my sweet Edith, were you anxious about me?’ he said pleasantly. ' “ Yes, terribly so, Allan; why did you stay so late?” “Got on a trail I had to run down; but I am hungry asa lost bear,” “ You shall have supper, for I told Jane to save it for you; come!” She led the way to one of the six rooms the cabin had in it, which was the dining-room, and sat at the table while he ate a hearty mwneal, his handsome face showing no trace of the tragedy that a little over three hours be- | fore he had enacted in the timber island. | At last he arose and taking the arm of the | maiden led her out upon the piazza. ‘“‘ Edith, do you know where your friend, Roy Brandt, has gone?’ he asked. ‘To get a view of the country, he said.” ‘‘It is not the reason; he has concocted a plan to ruin me.” ‘Ruin you, Allan?” ‘‘Yes, Edith.” ‘‘ How can he?” —— return of ee re ee ee ae we a er ee eee “ By trickery.”’ ‘* But he will not stoop to that.” * You do not know him.”’ ‘““T do know him, and feel that Roy Brandt would never do a mean act,”’ ‘‘T am glad he has so fair a defender,” was the sueering response of the man, ‘He deserves it, Allan.” ‘Well, I heard him to-day plot with your father against me.” ‘** You heard this?’ 6 Yes.” ‘‘ And my father, too?’ ‘$ Vee’ ‘* Impossible.” ‘Very well, I have nothing more to say.” ‘Yes, Allan, don’t be angry, but tell me all you know,” she said pleadingly. ‘* Well, it seems your father wishes you to marry this Roy Brandt, and they conceived the idea that witnesses could be brought here to swear away my character to you, and he has gone after them to the border towns.” ‘But [ will not believe them.” ‘*' They will make you believe them.” “Tam not wax, Allan Arleigh, to be molded at will into any shape,” said the maiden haughtily. “You say that you love me.”’ ‘“T do love you.” ‘* Prove it.” ‘How can I?” “Go with me and become my wife; then, after the trouble has blown over, we can re- turn and ask your father’s forgiveness.” ‘‘Oh Allan, I dare not,”’ ‘* As you please. I shall go.”’ “And whither?’ ‘*To seek this Brandt,” ‘*Why would you seek him?” *'To show him that no man can with impu- nity meddle in my affairs.” ‘‘ No, no, you must not do this,’’ ‘Then become my wife,” ‘Oh Allan! what can I do?’ **Do as I ask you, my sweet Edith.” ‘I dare not.”’ ‘* Then do not say that you love me,” ‘** But I do love you with all my heart.” “Fly with me then,” ‘** How can I?” ‘*'To-night, when your father has retired, steal from the house and come to the arbor on the river, and I will be there awaiting you with two good norses.” ‘* And where will we go, Allan?” ‘¢ Across the Rie Grande into Mexico for the present.” “ So far?” ‘Tt is not far.” ‘‘ But among the Mexicans?” **They are a warm-hearted people and will welcome you.” ‘*But it will kill my poor father, Allan.” ‘If you love him better than you do me, re- main here and become the wife of Rey Brandt. ‘‘ As for myself, I leave here to-night, ere I am tempted to dye my hand with the biood of the man your father would have you marry.” ‘‘No, no, Allan, I will go, come what may to me.” He drew her toward him and imprinted a kiss upon her red lips, and releasing herself from his embrace she ran into the house, Au hour after she stole on tip-toe into her father’s room, and heard him breathing as though asleep. Bending over him she kissed him gently, and turning, glided from the room, her heart full of tears and sorrow. Half an hour after two horses, were going at a rapid gallop over the prairie, and upon the back of one was Allan Arleigh, and the other carried Edith Balfour who had taken the fatal step of her life. ————— CHAPTER XIILL TOO LATE. WHEN Floyd Balfour opened his eyes in the early morning it was with a feeling of unrest, and unable to close them in sleep again, he a inti ————— ee a ee ee st ee ere ae eee - wey, arose, dressed himself, and walked out upon the piazza. The sun was just rising, and lighted up the prairie, when Floyd Balfour saw a man coming toward the ranch. He was yet a long way off; but watching him, Mr. Balfour saw that he walked with an uncertain step, as though under the influence of liquor, or great fatigue. ‘One of the cow-boys,” he muttered; ‘* been over toward the Post on a spree. ‘** But where’s his horse? ‘‘Gambled away, doubtless,” As the man drew nearer, he suddenly stag- gered badly, threw up his arms, and sunk down in the prairie grass, Calling to Jane, the cook, to send a servant to him, Mr. Balfour hastened to the spot where the man bad fallen, and suddenly sprung for- ward with a loud cry: “Great God ! itis Roy Brandt.” His loud calls brought a servant and several herders to him, amd Floyd Balfour ordered them to raise the limp form in their arms. “ He bas been wounded, and I fear fatally; hasten, men, or he will bleed to death.” They bore him into the cabin, his clothing was torn aside, and an old herder, who had once been a Village doctor, but emigrated to Texas on account of some little irregularity of life, hastily and skillfully examined the wound, ‘The shot was given from behind, sir, and glanced on this rib, running around it and cut- ting its way out just here,” said the herder. ‘‘Then the wound is not fatal?” eagerly cried Mr. Balfour. ‘‘ Not necessarily so, sir; if was well meant, and but for the rib turning it, would have en- tered the heart. ‘‘The shock was a great one, and the loss of blood has been terrible, but I hope he will rally allright, for he has a strong physique.” | “Then dress it at once, Venner, and you, Mattie, tell Miss Edith to send me some linen, quick,” and he turned to Edith’s maid. ‘Missy Edie not in her room, sah.” ‘* Where is she?” ‘Don’t know, sah; the bed hain’t been slept ” Floyd Balfour turned as pale as the wounded man by bis side, and tottered rather tban walked to his daughter’s room. The bed had not been occupied during the night, and upon the dressing table was a note, addressed to him in his daughter’s well-known hand. Brushing the tears from his eyes, and hold- ing it up with trembling hands, he read: ‘’ MIDNIGHT. ‘‘FarHer: As you have entered into a plot, with Mr. Roy nine to turn mé against the man I love, I prove my confidence in him, aud my undying affec- eon by this night leaving your home to become his ride. ‘* We go far from here, where until you are willing to for ee this act of mine, and welcome back my Eusbend, and ‘* Your loving daughter, “ EpiTs.”’ This was all that was written, and yet it was enough to almost make the reader gomad. | Had it not been for the wounded man lying in the house, demanding his every effort to save him from death, Floyd Balfour would have committed some desperate deed then and there, so heart-broken was he at his daughter's flight. But, with a mighty effort he gained his self- control, and went again to the side of Roy Brandt, to, find that the old herder, Venner, was skillfully dressing the wounds, Calling to one of his men who stood near he ordered him to collect a dozen of his comrades, have them arm themselves thoroughly, mount their best horses, and carry rations with them for several days. : Surprised at the order of the ranchero, the cow-boy hastened off to obey, and ere his re- turn, with his comrades at his back, mounted and armed, Roy Brandt had woke to con- sciousness, and Floyd Balfour was bending over him listening to a tale of horror from bis lips. in. ou cannot find us, GOMER OOKS