Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 296 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

8 — ease him.” ‘‘ Then I will go, sir,” And she turned away, ‘*I will join you ere you have gone far, and act: as your guardsman back to camp,” Drew said, in his most pleasant and respectful tone. And he was true to his word. After oe r Selim out of his misery with a rifle-ball, he hurried down the gulch in pursuit of Lady Theresa and soon overtook her. “We've a distance of over twelve miles to walk, Lady Tremaine, and I fear you will akg inadequate to the task!” he said, anxious- y ‘Oh, never fear about me. Iam young and strong, and if I get tired Pll rest, and then re- sue the journey, How came you so far, may ask ? ‘Oh, I’ve been hunting a big cinnamon bear for a couple of days past, unsuccessfully, an was about starting for home, when I heard you BI hie rag, hey walked along in silence then for several miles, when Lady Theresa si a desire to rest, and Drew found her .a seat on a moss- knoll, while he stretched himself out upon the grass near by. The full moon was ie Panag effulgent rays down into tho ravine, lighting up the pictur- esque surroundings, brilliantly. His lordship has not h .any reliable’ tid- ings of his lost child as yet, has he?” Drew asked, as he lit a bandsome pipe, and sent a wreath of smoke heavenward. “Oh! dear, no, and the worst of it is he per- sists in remaining in this horrid country with- out any reason.” “Then you think the child will never be found?” “Pooh! of course. It does. not look reason- able that she will ever be found.” “You being the only heir, then, I should. sume you have no t sty to have her found!” Drew remarked, insinuatingly. Lady Theresa. did not. reply—her face was averted; she was toying with one of the dia- monn ‘upon gist le » Sy | carefully. ‘* You are not led who could ever stoop to c criminal act or think a criminal thought—yet, should Maude Clifford never come to Reni, I am satisfied it would be but natural for you to feel a great sense of relief. Is this not so!” “ T neither admit nor deny it. I do not look for the child’s recovery; consequently I do not feel the anxiety 1 might otherwise feel.” “ But when I‘assure, truthfully and candidly, that’ I know where Lord ‘Cli ’s child ‘is, and am only waiting for bigger offers from him be- ie a produce her—what have you to say, en Pee: wher say is tea T am of. course i nger aving my ho ay Aa e heritage, spoiled. S Whore is this child?” | ““In‘a pleasant but secluded home, where, ig- norant of really who she pry is as happy, as ure and as innocent as childhood can make er, ‘You are sure of this?” | ‘“‘Tam. I saw her but a few weeks ago, an she was, to all appearances, healthful and ‘I must tell uncle this. It will give him 80 much comfort and assurance.” . ‘““Ah! then you think not of your own fu- ture?” Ligeee ets © I do, but not with designing in- nt. ‘“* But, look; Hear me out, Lady Tremaine. I am a son of an honorable family, and: should not, perhaps, make suggestions to one like you were it not that I always hate to let a chance go by unimproved. Now, this child is in good hands,,in comfortable circumstances, She does not dream of being a nobleman’s heir —why should she? Even the people who have adopted her have no thought.of such a thing, and nobody but myself knows where and who she is, All the parties in the world might search for her without result, She is buried— none can resurrect her to her rightful vosition save me, Why, then, should you not be heir to all Lord Clifford’s wealth?” Theresa buried her face in her hands, and burst into tears. ‘*Oh! don’t! don’t! You are a bold, wicked. unscrupulous m r—you wish to make me the victim of a villainous plot!” “Ah! Lady Tremaine, you wrong me. I have no such in view. I have simply been pointing out to you an Opps CaLaey to save yourself. I beg pardon if I have given here and suffer, when nothing we can do can Apollo Bill, the Trail reply. cL ® ee offense. Come, let us go, or we will not get to a before morning.” ‘Stop! there is more to this; you may as well explain now as later. You know where the child is—what would be the price for for- ever keeping the child in oblivion, as regards herself?” ‘‘The price—well, there can be no harm in telling you. [am deeply in love with you, my at and pretty Lady Tremaine, and, as your usband, I should probably look to our mutual ct to the real heir. You ma accordingly ju that my price is your hand! ‘Sir! I loathe ‘and despise you for your willingness to defraud a child out of its just dues. If I want to marry a monkey, I wil go to Africa and select one to my own choosing. ‘‘Good decision! Darwin says all the human race care descendants therefrom, and perhaps your ladysbip’s tastes long for one of the origi- nal abortitn ds rather than one of the more en- lightened species. As to the child, if Lord Clifford don’t care to pay a princely sum for it, I shall hold it a matter of twelve ie yet, marry it,,oust you out of Castle Clifford, and reign as lord-master. Ha! ha! no scheme like one reversible, to suit all circumstances. A kiss, now, my beautiful Lady Tremaine, and then, 1 am away! Just one long, lingering smack—” ‘‘In the mouth, and that settles you!” a stern voice cried, and ‘Drew received a blow across his face that flattened him instantaneously to the ground. He sprung to his feet, however, with a cry of fury, and stood face to face, and within t of his assailant, who was a man of hand- some figure, clad in scarlet suit of buckskin, top boots and slouch hat—a man whose face was covered to the chin with a mask—whose hair flowed in a wavy mass over shoulders —a man who wore a pair. of dangerous-lookin revolvers in his belt, and looked as if he coul ‘‘ lick his weight in wildcats.” | ‘Curse you, what do you mean?” Dick Drew demanded, ie chi up his fists, and panting with rage. “ do you mean, sir, by laying hands on a gentleman?” | ‘Most assuredly, Ido not remember of ever having done so, in anger!” the man of the mask replied, composedly, ‘‘ Do you mean to insinu- ate that you are one of that s ” ‘“‘ Certainly, and I can ear the man that says I ain’t!” Drew dec hotly. ‘Ou! that prooaely is a matter simply of your own opmion, [I dare say a -sized mouse would frighten the wits out of you, if so interests in res be you pen to have any.” “You black-hearted ruffian, do you mean that insult?” “Pm one of the most candid men in the world, so judge TP Sorebesw ht was the taunting ‘Apollo Bill never*thinks one thing, and another.” “ Apollo ** Apollo Bill!’ Lady Theresa gasped. “Bixactly! Apollo Bill!” was the cool re- se. ‘I seem to be known to yeu, Lady aine, has this fellow, whoever he may be, insulted you further than by offering to kiss ou?” ‘No, sir—unless proposing to marry me can be regarded as insult.” | ‘‘T should regard it as the hight of insult. I wonder you didn’t accept him! I should think the girls would run ge over such q desirable ung fel oung man. Yo low, whence camest thou! If you peregrinated hitherward from the town of MoGuftin’s, it is yet several miles distant down this ravine, and about the health- iest thing you can do is to seek it, in a hurry. But, first of all, get down on_ your knees and say: ‘Lady Tremaime, I humbly ask your par- don! Then you can go!” ° ““Ha! ba! you think I am in idiot, do you?” Drew cried. , ““T don’t think anything about it!” Apollo Bill retorted. “ All I ask of you, is to‘doas I just. bade you re ‘Why, I'd see you in —— first!” “On your knees I say!” Bill cried; sternly, at the same time drawing, cocking, and leveling one of kis revolvers. ‘Dll give you two minutes to obey me; if you don’t, F shall not mince matters, but blow your brains out!” Dick Drew was an a coward, when it came to facing danger; so he resolved to save per) sip at bre e “at “ humiliation. y Tremaine, um : a par- don!” he said, a malicious mer 34 on Ba face. “That is wrong!” Apollo Bill said. ‘* Get on your knees, vely, too—you’ve not much time to lose!” Tornado. Bill!” Drew exclaimed, incredu-. ‘is a gent ‘cumstances, but'the hand of an enemy ae ee ee ee Ce tO SCN - White with rage, Drew obeyed; then rising and shaking his fist at them, he hurried down the gulch, ** The bour is late,” Apollo Bill said, turning to Lady Tremaine. ** Accompany me to my retreat, and I guar- antee you greatest courtesy and attention, un- til morning, when I will send you back to Mc- Guffin’s. First, however, you must permit me to blindfold your eyes!” CHAPTER VILLI. AT APOLLO BILL’S RANCH. THERE was no other course Lady Theresa could pursue, that she could see, and she ac- cordingly signified her acceptation of the road; agent’s proposition. — She could not be in worse hands, at any rate, than she would have been, under Dick Drew’s guidance, and this thought gave her censidera- ble reassurance, . With a black alk handkerchief, Apollo Bill gently blindfolded her eyes so that she could not see; then he gave vent to a shrill whistle, and she was conscious.that a number of horsemen had ridden out from some adjacent cover, and sur- rounded them. The next action was to place her on horse- back, behind Apollo Bill, who directed her to put her arms about his waist, and ‘ hang on.’ The horses then started off on a gallop, and thus continued for hours, it seemed’ to Lady Theresa, ere a halt was made, and she was as- sisted to dismount. Then, after a few minutes, the ban removed from her eyes, and she was view her surroundings. She was in a large room, containing one door, and no windows. Light was furnished ‘by a dozen candles, which burned brightly in a rude sort of chandelier; a table, several stools, a couch of skins, and a carpet of the same material, comprised the furniture. . , besides Lady Theresa, Was who t of the room, a neatly clad In stood near at hand, and’ who had evi moved the blindfold, She was, more properly, a half-breed, bein light of complexion, and more in t was able to tly re- tty appearing than the average Indian girl. Pe Ak Dady eresa said, gazing abou her, in surprise. ** How is this—where am F?” ‘You are in the home of Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado!” the girl replied, in good Eng- lish. “But I thought I just dismounted!” ‘*So you did, and were lifted from your horse into this room,” the girl said, with a vague emile, “Oh! well, I sup one is subject to being pussies under such Circumstances as these. here is Apollo Bill, as you call him?” ‘Gone tothe a room, I dare say. Did you wish ‘to see him “Oy, no. Ihave no ovefwhelming desire in that/direciion. Road‘agents,or more correctly, robbers, are not on my list of uaintances. is bighly-named Adonis who has brought me hebte and re is, I’ dare week paragon of ou wrong him. Apello Bil wolfish cruelty combined.” ‘Ind lady, an and aman of honor, outside of vis profession, of which itis not for me to judge. He never offers harshness to a woman, but can be stern with men when necessity demands it.” ‘* And who are you?” “1 am pone . I was got ie vengeance of m le by Apo when they were aici on ea me for warning a party of pale-facés of an impending massacre. Apollo Bill took mé to his home, treated me as he would a sister, and as such I love him.” ‘“Tndeed. Very romantic. Can you tel me what his name is, aside from Apollo Bin?” “Y nati ot, you rhean,” * You n ean, WAR} Do a h ‘Ah! Do you w, then, what object he has in following the sinful life of a Ebert Surely not wealth.” “Not that alone. He has a sad stery con- nected with his life. Once he was in good cir- did him a foul wrong—one that he could not forgive— ene that urged him to seek for vengeance. He struck the trail of his enemy and followed him for many suns, At last one night he fancied he saw his man standing upon the upper deck of a Mississippi river steamboat as it lay at the levee. ene his revolver, he shot him through the eart. ‘‘ Tt afterward turned out that he had killed the wrong man, and the news of this nearly drove him wild with despair. From point to EOMNNIE NOOO KS G