Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 388 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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6 might take that RRS ids ay Paes ay Be? to do her a mis- chief, as be bad often threatened. What was her surprise and dismay to feel her stiletto snatcbed from ber garter! Her in- stant fear was that it would be plunged into her breast, Then she unconsciously played into the hands of the plotters by crying: ‘* Ab, monster, how dare you?” It saved Andres the necessity of exercising his ventriloquial powers. He had snatched the stiletto. His hand plunged it into Rafaelle’s side. Then the luckless Milado did his part to fur- ther the schemes of the conspirators. ‘*Fiends, you have given me my death!” he cried, and reeled backw ard, But now, while Lola stood in amazement, ske heard a voice which sounded exactly like her own, or so nearly that even she recognized the design, crying: ** Mother of God! I have done it!” She heard her stiletto drop on the floor. She heard the groan and fall of her guardian. Ina flash she realized the plot by which she had been insnared, and the impossibility of proving her innocence before such a jury as would try ber under the direction of the rutbless marshal, The infamy of death at the hands of a mob flashed across ber mind. Shesaw the dangling rope and the madmen hooting with derision. In wild panic she thought only of escape. At that instant she was seized by the wrist, and a voice which she recognized as Andres 3 whispered in her ear: “Unhappy girl! how could you do sorasha deed? But follow me. It will not do to let them hang you. Come! you may be able to escape,” “‘Oh, Andres!” she sobbed bysterically, ‘‘ I am innocent !—indeed I am innocent!’ ‘Will you waste time in idle words?’ he an- swered, dragging heralong. ‘‘Of course you were justified, No one could endure such bru- tality. But these Americanos, and more espe- cially this heretic of a marshal, know no differ- ence between a beautiful woman and the most hideous vagabond among them,” With her bead in a whirl she was dragged through the crowd into the open air. She heard the cry of murder and the accusa- tion brought against her as the murderess, Then came the demand for the marshal, anda moment later the sound of bis voice. ‘fam lost!—oh, [am lost!’ she cried to her quailing heart. But at that momenta gruff voice growled: ‘*To thunder with yer marshal! He don’t put his dirty hands on that pieve o’ caliker, ye onderstand!” The speaker brushed against her. It was Rube Martin. He was come to play his part. Even as he spoke be seemed to notice and re- cognize her. He caught her by the arm oppo- site to Andres, ‘Hallo hyar!” be muttered, with an oath. “Is this you, you leetle Tartar? But don’t be afeard o’ me. I’m yer solid friend, 1 am! Who's this byar? Yer lovyer, eh? Waal, I’m a-standin’ in with him; an’ between us we'll run you out o’ danger, ur plant ther dog-gone marshal,” ‘Who are you?” asked Andres, peering across Lola to distinguish their new friend in the darkness, ‘“Never vou mind who I am,” said Rube, biuffly. ‘‘We’ll have more time to talk that over some other day. But I’ve gota hoss that kin jest knock the socks off'n ary thing that stands on four feet in this byar section o coun- try. Ef you want to run this leetle gal out o’ bharm’s way, jest come along with me,” Before she had time to think of remonstrance or opposition of any kind, Lola found herself whisked out of the crowd and lifted to the back of a horse that stood ready saddled and bridled, The animal was then set in motion, at first slowly, but soon more rapidly, _ She knew that they were leaving the camp, but in what direction she could not have told, She presently became aware that Andres was no longer with her; but when or why he had gone she knew not. However the stranger seemed kindly dis- posed, and with a woman’s subtle instinct she detected something in his voice that led her to trust bim. ; He held the bridle-rein and ran beside her orse, ‘‘Look hyar, Jeetle one,” he said. ‘I’ve pulled you out of a mighty dirty hole.” ‘*But I have done nothing! Believe me, I did not slay Rafaelle!” she protested. Little Oh-my. ‘* Kvery- ** Yet ‘*The trick i is to prove it,” he said. barre is ag’in’ you, you’ll allow.” es! yes!” she admitted, hopelessly. I am innocent!” ‘*Waal, my dear, without debatin’ that, I’ve taken a notion to ye, I have; an’ | propose to stick to ee through thick an? thin, marshal or no marshal! Now you jest trust to me, an’ Vil pall through, ur lose a leg!” “'{ will trust to you,” she answered him, ‘I know by your voice that you are a good raan,.” * Don’t you take too much stock in that!” he objected. ‘*T allow to have done some as low- down jobs as most men. But in this business i’m yer solid friend, ye onderstand. You kin tie to Rube Martin fur all you’re worth,” Su ddenly he stopped and listened. ‘‘They’re after you, leetle one!” he said. ‘*This kind o’ time ain’t goin’ todo, That thar marshal is the devil when he gits bis dander up. Look a-hyar! You’ve got a straight road be- fore ye. Yo can’t miss it. It leads to the Idaho border, Jest you manage to cross the Snake river, an’ you’re out o’ bis jurisdiction, Kf he puts a ‘hand on ye when you’re on Idaho soil, you'll have friends that’]l stan’ by ye. Never mind the hoss-flesh. Git!” And striking the animal a stinging blow, he let go the bridle-rein, The termfied girl found herself plunging through the darkness alone. She knew enough not to try to direct the animal’s steps, but only to urge him to his ut- most speed, She was mounted astride a man’s saddle; but being a Mexican woman, she was used to this method, and experienced no particular incon- venience. However, she in time became aware that her saddle was slipping, and threatened to turn and throw her. This must be remedied at all hazards; so she drew her horse to the side of the road, and stop- ping him, dismounted. It chanced that this occurred near.a cross- road; and while she was buckling the surcingle tighter some horsemen wheeled into the road. It was too late to mount and escape them, She must trust to the darkness, while she prayed that the horses might not neigh. Soe caught her own horse’s muzzle in her hands, and waited breathlessly. The riders passed her in conversation, W hat was her surprise and relief to recognize Andres’s voice, She was on the point of betraying her pres- ence to him, when she heard him say: ‘“T turned her over to the gentle Rubio, as per contract. That is all I have to do with the mat- ter. It is his businees to see that she falls duly into the hands of his murderous countryman, the marshal, Do you take me fora murderer of women—that is tosay, directly, with my own hand?” “The spirit, if not the letter of your con- tract, is that you were to assist in putting her out of the way,” was the reply. ‘‘I do not trust these dogs of Americanos. You should have seen that the marshal was upprised of her flight and the direction she had taken,” The horsemen passed on; but their secret was out, Andres, then, was a party to the plot against her! He had imitated her voice, put- ting those fatal words seemingly into her mouth. Now she recalled that he had once amused her by an exhibition of his ventriloquial powers, And the stranger—she remembered that he had called himself Rube Martin, and Andres had said Rubio—he too was against ‘her! How could she escape from this web of treachery ? One thing was certain. Sbe must no longer follow the route Rube bad given her. He would set the marshal on her trail. Thrown upon her own resources, she returned ta the cross-road out of which Andres and his companion had come; but since they had come from the camp she rode in the opposite direc- tion. For bours she hurried on, until the sun rose, Then, so weak and faint that it seemed if she did not rest for a time she should fall out of her saddle, she dismounted, and lay down on the ground, while her horse nibbled the grass. Before she was aware of the danger, she fell into a doze, from which she was roused she knew rs how long after by the tramping of horses’ eet. To spring to her feet. to mount, to dash away, was the work of a moment. But she was too late. She had been discovered, and looking back, she saw the ruthless marshal pressing hard in pursuit. ‘ ‘ae ~~ f ; ay “a “ fa ps - atta ak dies ris rae Sram * ws A 6 Sot rahe daw st. nh al ~ oeare — eB one 3 . £9 » ie * rut anal ad het a % ’ — _ = ae ‘‘ Now, Holy Mother—you whose ever-blessed Son I have adored—succor me!” she cried aloud, CHAPTER VI, THE FAIR FUGITIVE. ‘‘Goop Heavens! Look yonder!” ‘A runaway!” ‘‘And a woman at that! The beast will drown ber, if be don’t break her neck when he strikes the bank.” ‘‘ Something must be done to save her.” ‘‘ With the Snake between us, and the Big Jump not a hundred rods below? Are youanx- ious to go over the falls?” ‘‘ But we can’t stand and see her die before our eyes.” ‘*T don’t see what's to hender.” ‘‘ Gents, that ain’t no runaway.” “The deuce it ain’t! I’d like to know what you call it, then,” ‘Don’t you see that she’s a-whippin’ of him on?” ‘‘ Blowed ef that thar ain’t so!” ‘¢ An’ see !—she’s lookin’ back,” **Tnjuns!” ‘‘Ur white men, sonny.” ‘““Ye’re right, Ole 49. See yonder! Thar they come round the bend.” ‘** Waal. ef we can’t cross the Snake, we kin keep them devils off! Vill give ’em warnin’ the fu’st shot; but after that the man that comes within range will git somethin’ worse’n a cod- fish-ball through him!” And tke speaker unslung his Winchester rifle and threw it forward, while bis eyes flashed with indignant determination. ‘“My fresh young friend,” interposed the man who had been addressed as Old "49, *“*have you any notion who it is that you're proposin? to plug?” “No; and I don't care! What difference does it make who it is that is runnin’ a woman into the river?” m Waal, accordin’ to my calcalation, it makes a heap o’ difference.’ The younger man satin at the older. ‘‘ Who is it?” he asked, ‘The Marshal o’ Two Bits.” ‘‘ And do you mean to say—” That jit don’t make no difference to him ef ‘his man’ happens to be a woman once in a while. He’s goin’ in fur law an’ order, he is.” “But a woman—” “Kin put in a center shot as well as the best o’ men, ef she only knows how,” “ And do you think that this woman—” ‘‘T don’t think nothin’ about it. Jake Probst ain’t after her fur nothin’, You kin ,bet yer bottom dollar on that thar proposition.’ George Cameron bel bis rifle in suspense, while he gazed with a frown of irresolution at the rapidly approaching chase, Though her features could not be distinguish- ed very clearly at that distance, he fancied that the woman must be young and beautiful; for an abundance of chestnut brown bairstreamed out behind her, while it could be seen that her dress was of gay colors. Not far behind her rode two men, the fore- most of whom was of gigantic stature. It was by his unusual size that Old ’49 had recognized him, and guessed all the rest by his knowledge of the wild life of that section of country, where an ait of violence was almost as likely to have been done by a jealous woman as by an infuriated man. The woman and her pursuers were on the Oregon, the men whose conversation we have recorded on the Idaho, side of Snake river. Between them rolled the rapid tide to its leap over a jutting precipice, the roar of its tumbling waters sounding to their ears like a sullen warn- ing to any rider who had the temerity to at- tempt to stem its flood. While the little knot of prospectors stand wait- ing to see whether the woman would run her horse into the water rather than yield to cap- ture, their attention was diverted to the rear by, the clatter of hoofs and a ringing, youthful voice crying: ‘What, men! will you stand quietly by and see a woman chased intotheriver? Itiscertain death! She will be drowned! And, like a meteor a youth who was scarcely more than a boy shot by them on a fine roan gelding. “Tittle Oh-my!” ejaculated one of the pros- pectors at sigbt of him. The others too followed the lad with admiring glances. ‘Marshal ur no marshal,” said one, “he’s got the divil ag’in’ ’um now!” Rescue! reseue!” | . —_ o | ; | 4 “DOO ‘S.com-