Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 222 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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8 “Twas shocked by the shot, and knocked breathless, but soon recovered consciousness, and dressed my wound as well as I could to stanch the bleeding. “Then I saw Arleigh returning, and hastily resumed my prostrate position, for I dared not meet him in my weakened state. “And there I lay, not knowing whether he had gone, or was in the timber, until I heard him call to Lone Star Harry, who also fell under his cruel fire. ‘‘Then he departed, after killing our horses, and, assoon as I heard him ride away, [ arose and again dressed my wound, and when it grew dark started for the ranch. “Tt was a long, hard trip on foot, and in- stinct alone told me which way to go, but I was slowly bleeding all the time, until at last I sunk down, unable to make another step.” Such was the story of Roy Brandt, told ina low weak voice, and to it, Floyd Belfour list- ened with a livid, scared face. “Well, Roy, cheer up, for I sball leave you in charge of Venner here, and he will bring you roundin a few weeks,” ‘‘And you, Mr. Balfour?” “Oh! I shall take the trail with my boys there, “The dew is still on the grass, and they are all fine trailers. ‘‘Good-by, Roy, and pray for me to bring back good tidings and my poor child.” ‘Would to Heaven I could go too.” ‘¢No, no, you have seen service enough for the present. “By the way, Venner, send two of the men to bury poor Lone Star Harry. **Come, lads, let us be off.” Throwing himself into his saddle, Floyd Balfour set off at a gallop, his herders follow- ing, excepting one who had already struck the trail of the fugitives. CHAPTER XIV. A FATAL TRAIL. Upon the erest of a bold hill, many miles from the level prairie, upon which stood the ranch of Floyd Balfour, was a man leaning against a small tree, and gazing intently out over the plain at his feet. One glance into his face, and the reader re- cognizes Allan Arleigh. He looks travel-stained and somewhat weary, but the bold resolution and reckless daring re- main, and his eye is full of fire as he gazes out over the prairie at a party of five horsemen approaching. They are far away, fully a league, yet he recognizes the one on the white horse, for he mutters: ‘** By heaven! he has trailed me hard.” Turning he degcended to asmall vale beyond the crest of the hill where stood two steeds, both with bowed heads as though hard ridden. At the base of a tree, lying on a blanket, and rolled in a serape, lay a slender form. It was Edith Balfour, and she was asleep. Her face was flushed, yet haggard, and she slept the sleep of utter prostration. ‘* Let her sleep until my return,” muttered the man, and taking up a rifle from where it leant against a tree, he wended his way at a rapid step down the hillside. Near its base the path led through a narrow ravine or canyon, and here, hidden by the em- bankment, he took his stand and waited. Soon after the group of five horsemen came in sight, exe a few yards in advance, his eyes following a trail, evidently, and his compan- -ions behind. All wore a haggard look, the horses were gaunt and carried their heads low, and it was evident they had been pressed very hard. Nearer and nearer they came to the hills, and then entered the vale, and then the can- yon. Then came the crack of a rifle from over the embankment, anda rider, the one on the white horse dropped from bis saddle, Instantly his startled companions drew rein, when their ears beard the ringing words: _ Grit, the Bravo Sport. “Men, I camp here, so do not press me if you wish to live.” ‘‘Curse you, Allan Arleigh, you have killed Mr. Balfour,” shouted one. | ‘‘T meant to, and V’ll kill you*too, if you en- ter this canyon. ‘‘No more words now, but come on if you like.” They knew him well by this time, and they fell back out of range, carrying the form of Floyd Balfour with them, while Allan Arleigh, seeing that they dared not press him, bounded away unseen by them, and was soon at his temporary camp. Edith Balfour was on her feet, awakened by the shot, though it had been fired a long way off. “Oh, Allan, what is it?” she cried. ‘ Nothing, excepting that I shot a prowling red-skin; but come, we must be on our way, sweet Edith, for others may be near to follow us,” He was perfectly cool, and having saddled the horses, raised her to her seat, mounted his own animal, and set off on a trail leading down the other side of the mountain, the maiden lit- tle dreaming of the fearful tragedy that had been enacted so near her while she slept. Pressing on, at the topmost speed of their tired horses, they at length reached the Rio Grande, crossed the stream, and that night ar- rived in a small Mexican village. Seeking the padre, Allan Arleigh bade him marry them, which the sight of a liberal fee induced him to do, and that night Edith Bal- four dropped her maiden name and became Edith Arleigh, the wife of the man who had taken such deliberate aim, and shot her father from his saddle. Pressing on the same night, several hours be- fore dawn they rode up to the walls of a haci- enda, situated close in under the shadow of a range of mountains, and ata call from Allan Arleigh the gates swung quickly open. Leaving their horses with servants in the plaza, the two entered the substantial building, the man leading, and, to her surprise, the maiden was ushered into a very luxuriously furnished room. ‘*Edith, my wife, I have deceived you, for I am not the homeless wanderer you have be- lieved me, ‘“Thisis my hacienda, my ranch, and upon the acres surrounding feed my cattle, while my servants are ever ready to do my slightest bid- ding.” Poor Edith was astounded, for she had not expected such a glad surprise. Her husband then was no adventurer, and she would yet have her father visit her and find how cruelly he had misunderstood Allan Arleigh. With such thoughts as these she sunk to sleep in her new home. Better had it been for her had she never awakened from that dreamless slumber. CHAPTER XV. A GAMBLER MEETS HIS MATCH. In one of the antiquated towns of Mexico, not many leagues from the Rio Grande, a party of natives were assembled in their favorite drinki.g saloon, engaged in playing monte, drinking aguardiente, chatting, and plotting deviltry generally. Presently there strode into the room a man | upon whom every eye was turned, and a score of whispers were heard: ‘‘Tt is the Diamond Sport.” He glanced around the saloon, nodded fa- miliarly to several of the better class of ranch- eros and traders present, and then sat down to a game of cards with several who ssemed to have money to lose, as the gambler almost always won. Hardly had the day begun when in walked a tall, heavily bearded man, dressed in the garb of a sailor, and wearing his hat pulled down over his eyes, as though to shade them from the light. “e He took a seat near the door, called fora drink, in a foreign accent, and glanced fur- tively around the room. Then one by one others straggled into the place, until the saloon was crowded, ‘‘ Who is that man, senor?’ asked the bearded stranger of a Mexican who sat at the same table with him. ‘You mean the handsome, dandified chap, gambling, senor?” ‘ec Yes.’ ‘‘ He is called here the Diamond Sport, for you see he wears the gems; he is a gambler, and a hard one to beat, too.” ‘‘Has he no other name?” ‘‘ Yes, senor, several of them, I have heard. “Some call him by an American name, and that is the country he comes from, though he speaks Mexican like a native.” ‘‘ Ah! he’ lives here then, senor?” ‘‘ Cannot tell where he lives, senor; you see he is constantly on the move. “They say he has a hacienda in the moun- tains, and people talk about his having more herders than are needed fora few cattle, and the gambler and his cow-boys all are missing sometimes for weeks, and when they come back they are flush with pesos, and I guess they’ve been raiding beyond the Rio Grande upon the Mexicans, | ‘‘This belief regarding him, is what has got- ten him the name of the Bravo of the Chap- arrals.” Thanking his rather intelligent companion for his kind information regarding the gambler, the stranger said calmly: ‘““As I see he has won all the money his companions have, I think I will ask him to play a game with me.” ‘Better not, for it’s pesos thrown away, senor; he always wins,” “Tl risk it.” Rising, the stranger advanced to where the gambler sat, his now thoroughly interested companion following to see what would occur, and going up to the Sport said quietly: ‘¢ Senor, as I’m ashore for a little sport, and ran up here to see the country, suppose you oblige me with a little gaine.” Tbe gambler glanced searcbingly into the face of his companion, but the hat and beard hid every feature except the nose, and an- swered: ‘‘ As you please, senor; youare not a Mexi- can?’ ** Nor” ‘* English, perhaps?” **No, 1 hail from beyond the Rio Grande.” ‘Ah! and so did I once; but what brings you up to this part of Mexico, so far from salt water?” ‘‘ A shipmate of mine fell in love with a girl who lives in these parts, and married her, and [ came up to see them; but I go back soon.” ‘Shall we have the little game?” “Vea.” “How much?” ‘‘T warn you not to stake all you have got, for I am Fortune's favorite, and you are in a strange land to go broke in.” TI have flattered myself that I was a favor- ite of Fortune too: we shall see though, who she loves the most.” The game at once began, and the bearded stranger won. Again they played, and again the stranger won. | | The gambler looked puzzled, for it was evi- dent he was nonplused by his loss, while the crowd gathered around, could not understand it. ‘¢ Fortune favors me, it seems,” said the stran- ger, quietly. ‘‘ Perbaps you do not play fair,” was the in- sulting remark, and the crowd swayed back, as though expecting trouble, all seeming to know the gambler well. **T guess I do, gambler,” was the smiling re- ply. “Well, sir, we will try again.” “T’m willing, gambler,” was the calm re- sponse. com GHOOOKS (ECO)