ComicBooks.com Register / Loginit's free!

Pulp Fiction, 1878 · page 13 of 16

Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 24 — page 13: what you’re looking at

📖 Open the full issue in the page-flip reader →
Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 24 — page 13: Pulp Fiction, 1878

A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1878. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.

📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)

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

- -- - a ‘Gilbert. Brother, do you know me””’ ‘“Answer me. Will T die? jured?” asked Lord Gilbert. ‘*T hope not—” ‘“Yes; you will not live two hours,” and the stern voice, of Diamond Dirk. interrupted words of hope the settler was giving rise to. ‘* Are you certain?’ “Yes: I have seen too many men die to make — | ‘Ves, I was the heir of wealth, with my | a mistake,” coolly replied the:scout. : ‘Then I have much to say. Melrose, I am an unworthy brother. I am accursed as was Cain. Years ago, I published statements of your death, aided by this man,” and inted to Vernon. ‘Thereby, at the death of our father—” ‘He is dead, then?” ‘Yes. When he died he left me the heir to hed title and estates. t that was not the rst time he wronged you, Melrose. He sent your wife away.” : ; ‘** T know all that, brother.” ‘* Do you still call me brother?’ ‘* Yes—you are still my brother.” ‘* Wo, Tam unworthy of Bite ngme—this very morning I attempted your life.” ‘*Good God!” Se “Tt is true—and more, Melrose, several days | ago [ was out with one of Our hunters—we saw you, and I re ized you then—you passed within ten feet of us. ‘* Then Iwas tempted and fell—I would kill you and still remain Loud Gilbert; to do this I killed first my unsuspecting cé eet with him out of the way—for he would of course tell that he had seen a strange white man in the valley— { would be free of any witness, then 1 would seek your life. This morning I believéd I had killec Poe fnaaik God now that. I failed; but you fell from your horse—you seemed dead.” ‘Yes, I was stunned by the bullet; itis but a slight wound. I forgive you, Gilbert, the temp- tation was great,” and d Melrose, for such sf ae the reader now knows him to be, spoke with a | tone of perfect forgiveness, The dying man closed his eyes for a moment, | and then slowly opened them, while he said: ‘‘ Why do I find you here?’ . _“T followed my wife and child—the father of my wife went into ess in New York and failed, then he came West with a number of emigrants. ‘*T struck the trail of the train and came > upon a scene that I shall never forget: my wife, | her father, nay, all but one of that train were dead and scalped—that one was my baby girl, nestling in her dead mothdF’s arms—here she is— Ada, this is your uncle.” _ The maiden had heard all that had passed; but, with the-same forgiving nature shown by ber father, she leaned over and pressed her lips to the forehead of the dying man. Then Lord Melrose continued: ‘* Sick of the world, I took my child and came hither—from the train I got me sufficient ma- terial and stores to make myself comfortable— Am I fatally in- Diamond Dirk. theh ‘That was two years ago; but public senti- | ment caused you to leave France, and one who loved him, who was his only kin, followed you _forrevenge. Iam that person.” “The boy had a sister, and—” “Tam that sister!” ee You 7? brother: brought up like a boy, rather than a irl, my education was much like his, and when was determined to revenge him, I donned man’s attire. ‘Now that I have found you thus, Lord Gil- bert, [am glad, for I wish not your life on my hands. You are dying—so let it be. I pity you, and my poor brother Burt is avenged.’ |” Without ‘another word, the woman, as she is \ now known to be, turned away, leaving all dazed with surprise—the handsome, fearless, gallant Burt ord had turned out to be a young gir! of twenty. ) As she went into the cabin, Ada, the Girl Guide, shyly followed her, and the men were left alone around the litter of the dying man. For some moments there was a dead silence, and then the dying nobleman said, softly: _ “Jules, Jules!” | All turned to look for the Frenchman; but he had re agg _ Yonder he goes,” said Diamond Dirk, point- ing down the valley, where Jules Vernon was riding slowly away from the cabin. “Let him go—he feels that this is no place for him—he was a mere adventurer that I picked up years ago and proved useful to me, and a p re com on—let him go,” said Gilbert ‘He is go “soon put an end to his existence,” said Leo. ‘So let it be—it were a fitting death for him _—Melrose, come near me.” The settler bent over his brother, ‘* Among my papers you will find all that you would know about my affairs, and in my valise sufficient gold—if you need gold—I am, tired now and need sleep: but tell me,again you for- give me, ere I~go—to—-sleep.” ‘I forgive all, brother.” Silently those about the litter stole away and left the dying man with his brother. An hour after Leo Markham approached the spot—Lord Melrose still sat there, holding the hand of his brother: but,it was lifeless, for the | spirit of Gilbert of Lochiel had gone—he had _ sunk into his last sleep—the sleep of death. CHAPTER XXVI. ; _ CONCLUSION, TuE body of Lord Gilbert was laid away in a grave, dug on the banksof the little stream, and a feeling of relief came upon all when the burial was over—the valley of the Yellowstone no longer held weird mysteries to the adventurous several horses, cows and fowls, that had esca ' hunters, who had penetrated its fastnesses. ) oe rR aslo Senirie Bete al bis two. from the Indians, with provisions they had left, for something must have frightened them off, ere their hellish work was complete. “To be free from ins, | came here where Indians never come, and here I have lived in 2e for long years; now you know all.” gain the eyes of the wounded man closed wearily, and some present believed that he h sunk into his last sleep. — | But wig l opened again as a strange voice broke on his ears —it was the voice of Burt Belford, who, pale, trembling, and with eyes of fire, stood before him. — CHAPTE ; BURT BELFORD’S STORY. ‘‘ In God’s name! who you?” The dying man. spoke with unusual firmness, un pon the face of Burt | 0 slay you, Lord Gil- | al you for, two years; A d his eyes were riveted Belford, with a look of h ‘*T am one who sought | pert on8 who has tracl ut my revenge is cheated—G« . hand upon you and I must take mine o ‘* Look at me—do you remember me? ‘‘T remember a face such as thine.” ‘‘ Where is that face now?” ‘Tn the grave.” “True. By whose hand?’ sé e,”” ‘Yes. Why?’ “ He fell in a duel with me.” | “Yes. He loved a woman whom that man, Jules Vernon, loved; it was that man’s desire to get rid of him—he led him into temptation, and when his brain was wild wi him in a quarrel with you. —— - you, and you challenged bim— | returned nothis ardent ioye. a liquor, involved heart, and comrades put in an appearance and made two reports—first, they had buried the body of the madman in the valley; then upon their way to the cabin they had met Jules Vernon, riding down the river. They had urged him to return with them, not knowing the circumstances under which he had left: but he had refused, and told them he was going on a little scout on his own account— that was the last they had seen of him. When the tents were pitched, and Pompey and Jake busy around the camp-fires, the v ey presented a cheerful, pleasant scene that night: upon Diamond Dirk and Leo ham—they were alone in their tent, while Lord M his daughter, and Belle Ford occupied the cabin. _ pap Yet around the camp-fires e Pete and his comrades were gay and happy—nothing could disturb their equanimity—they took life as it was, not as it had been, and were con od aussady fides his with the delicious supper the two negroes set before them. leave the cabin, and when she came out in one of Ada’s fancy buck-skin costumes, and Diamond confessed that she was a most beautiful creature, in spite of her short hair. As the days went on the two maidens and the scout and the young soldier became the best of friends—nay more, they were daily becoming more interested in each other, until Captain Leo Markham declared confidentially to the scout that the lovely Ada Melrose won his ' you fought together and he fell, shot through cart leave the valley. The winter was coming rap- Cll LLL AE A At length Lord Melrose signified a desire to idly on, and he was anxious to return to Eng- land and give Ada the advantages her birth and wealth entitled her to. And so attached had both his daughter and himself become to Belle, that Lord Melrose adopted her as his daughter, and the kinless, al- _ most friendless maiden was happy. One-pleasant-fall.amorning the whole party set out from the valley, Lord Melrose and Ada leaving their cabin-home with full hearts, for lovely though their lives had been, they were yet naPPy there. With Prairie Pete and his four companions, Leo Markham, Lord Melrose, and two such fearless maidens as were Ada and Belle, Diamond Dirk did not fear to pass throu e Indian country, in spite of Pompey and ake’s admoni- tion, that: . ‘Dey had better stay whar dey was, as dar wag no Ingins dar. Ef dey went away, dey wud all be skulped, sartin.” But Fort Ellis was reached in safety, after a hard but successful rh A few days’ rest at Fort Ellis, and Lord Mel- rose and the two maidens, accompanied by Captain Markham and Diamond Dirk, started for the railroad, where the three former took - — to his death—the Indians will ) * wish to travel in Burope.” the train for New York, and the two lovers were left behind, but not disconsolate, for they had won the hearts of their lady-loves. As they rode back to Fort Ellis, Leo Mark- ham said: | ‘‘ Old .fellow, do.you know I am tired of a soldiér’s life?” ‘““T don’t doubtait, captain.” ‘““Yes—imy parents left me a handsome in- come—I have won some little reputation, and I ‘Want a companion, captain?” Yes, indeed.” “Then I'll go—you see I am leading this wild "life simply from a love of adventure—couldn’t settle down to pulling pa ee pills, selling pe, or tilling a ground, after four years’ cav- y service in the confederate army, soI struck for the frontier, and the life has had great at- tractions for me. ‘*T had a few thousands when the war closed, ' and have added to the amount, until I am inde- yo soldier joined. : ‘And both scout and soldier were as for England, and one afternoon pendent now, and would be delighted to spend my income in Euro travel—England, you know, is so delightful, you know,” and the scout burst out into a merry laugh, in which the good as their word—they left the frontier, tcok steamer ed in on Lord Melrose and the ladies at Lochiel manor. But the two young men did not do much Eu- ropean traveling just then—they waited a fe months, turned into Benedicts, and with their lovel brides, made the tour of Europe, after which they returned Lochiel manor, where Dudley Dean, alias Diamond Dirk, found a let- ter awaiting him from Prairie Pefe, which gave him all the border new since his departure, and told him also that a w . eman called Jules had cast his fortunes with the Sioux, and was a great friend of Sitting Bull. Then Prairie Pete went on to say that he had seen this white Indian, and that he was none other than Jules Vernon, who had become a renege from his race. __ “ An’ as fur ther Yallerstun,” continued P - yer bet thar ain’t no one as gces thar—the | gine that kenntry a wide trail, fur they say ‘tis a Ford was able to | — Diamond Dirk swore that he would | be an unhappy man if the beautiful Belle Ford _ —< —_— ‘nted, an’ calls ther Gal Guide a sperrit, aw ther m a Devil, an’ says ks dwell yet a feeling of solemn sadness seemed to rest _ thar ahint every rock an’ thicket; but ther boys is all of us glad ter h : yer and the capt’in is spliced, an’ wishes yer good luck an’ p enty a podses; gi’n our love to the leddies, an’ re spects ter ther ole gent, yer pa-in-law, wh« m ther boys has named th ermit of ther Yaller- stone.” “We must make a trip to that country, scme tige,”, pee ley Dean, when he had finished the letter. | would-dearly like to see it again,” said A | * And so would I,” returned Belle. “Well, we will go next summer,” rejoined Capta z Markham, | _the Indian war caused a postponement of the trip; yet, when the summer of 1878 rolls around. 2 hae Sioux ore not still on the war-path, a hunting-party will again venture in- to that little known and vaminteh vena of the Yellowstone, some of the mysteries of which have been made known.to the kind reader of Diamond Dirk. tl einsnainplinnnets ; -_—e- Ghboo <€om HalG@