Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 408 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

— “ Weyby—W inters—take charge of her!” said farmer Ashmead, sternly. ‘Never! You shall not touch her while I live!” shouted: Little Leather-Breeches. With the spring of a panther he swooped down | upon the man who held the revolver, dealt him a stunning blow, and, at the same instant, snatched the weapon from his hand. With another tween the cowering girl and her foes. ‘Stand back!” he shouted, now fairly beside | himself with terror at what he—even he /—now believed that the rash hand of his loved one had done. But love comes before law! No regulation of human justice—no need of human_society— weighed a feather with him now. man’s hand against her, he put himself at her side, She was a murderess? Beitso! He would be a murderer—her equal in that!—before a hand should be laid upon her in anger! ‘‘ Stand back!” he shouted, ‘‘ or, by the ever- living God, I will drop the first man that dares to take a step forward!” They knew him. He daunted the boldest of them. Still he knew that he could not, single-handed, withstand them all for any length of time. Was there not one in all that knew her and him who would stand their friend in this their time of sorest need? Oh! if it were any one but Abe Seaver! He could have been counted upon to defend her, right or wrong. But it was he, the most devot- ed of the devoted, that her hand had beaten down to death! Little Leather-Breeches turned sick at the thought. His despairing eyes went round from face to face, and suddenly a light of eager relief broke over his countenance. ‘‘ Barclay!” he cried, starting forward and extending his hand. ‘*T’m your man!” was the prompt response. And a figure leaped forward and passed him, with a great flapping, like the wings of a mon- ster bat. ‘‘The Mad Millionaire!” exclaimed a voice. ‘* The devil!” declared another. And all were suddenly impressed with the ap- propriateness of the suggestion, applied to that weird-looking person. , At that instant the snow came in a blindin flurry, extinguishing, the torch and wrapping all in profound darkness. “ After them, men!” cried farmer Ashmead, thinking to take advantage of that protection from Little Leather-Breeches’s aim. There was a rush and a fierce struggle. Little Leather-Breeches had the good sense to know that the killing of a single man at random would not help his cause, so he flung down the revolver and grappled with the first man who tried to rush past him. The Mad Millionaire seemed to have scarcely teu steps the start of the others; and yet he made such good use of his advantage that he caught Belle up in his arms, rushed with her to his waiting wagon, fairly threw her in, follow- ed himself, and was off as if riding on the hurri- cane, The excitement of the struggle seemed to set fire to his distempered brain. ‘He yelled to his horses, and shrieked with maniac laughter as, standing erect, he swung the long lash of his whip round and round and sent it darting through the air, to crack over the heads of his frightened beasts like a rifle-shot. hey were used to this wild driving; but the snow blinded them, and the roar and rush of mighty winds maddened them, and they tore through the blackness unable to see the ound they trod on or any surrounding ob- jects, and kept in the road only by some subtle animal instinct of which human reason can give no account. , They were running away, with no one to check them but that madman, who reveled in their wildest speed, reckless of the destruction they might be rushing upon. Belle, forgetful of all else but present peril, clung to the sides of the bomnding Venice, fear- ing every moment that it would overturned and she hurled to a horrible death by mangling! The blind instinct of fear made her shriek for help where there was no chance for it from hu- man hands; and so they rushed on through the blackness and icy chill! Down through the village they swept, with ever-increasing speed; then away toward the where dwelt the old crone, whom all had that night come to fear as a veritable emissary of the Evil One! And now the hissing lightning rent the black bound he planes himself be- | | With every | | | | | a ———— rr ee Little Leather-Breeches. —_ i es -__—_—_—_ ————— ——————— — curtain of night, and the voice of the mighty Thod, the god of thunder, drowned the eerie | shrieks of laughter of the imps of the tempest. Directly in their path the mad horses saw an object of hideous aspect. ler bent form, her flapping garments, the | crooked staff she waved, shrieking: Come on to death! Come on Come on where chasms ‘‘Ha! ha! ha! to the mangling rocks! yawn and crags lie in wait! in the snow and cold! Come on! come on! I wel- come ye! Ha-ha-a-a-a-ah! The curses I’ve scattered like the sower in seedtime are spring- ing up, a rare crop of the thorns and nettles of o —-_-—-- ll ‘* Her own accuser?” ‘‘ We found her kneeling beside the dead man, ' and she called herself his murderess!” ' self with terror! Come on, to perish | '— such a monster! ‘‘But it cannot be true! She was beside her- She could not have killed him with her own hand! Great God, men! you who have known her ever since her babyhood !—you who know that she never harmed a living thing in all her innocent life!—you cannot believe that she would suddenly develop into such a wretch You know that he was fond of her—everybody knows that—a poor simple ' creature, good and kindly enough in his way, hell! Now shriek -and wail and pray to yer | ' ment of arpa have made ’way with himself. Ianswer ye! Fall to, my lads! rother to the heart! deaf Heaven! Let every man strike his Writhe in the death-grip! till yer thews and sinews crack! hoarse curse between yer gnashing teeth! ho! we'll have the fiends’ revel!” This horrid spectacle appearing in their gem as if it had started out of the earth caused the frantic leaders to rear and paw the air, then swerve sharply to one side; and in a flash the vehicle slewed round and rolled over and over, hurling the yelling madman and his shrieking victim to an invisible fate. The wagon lay a wreck. The horses, broken loose, coursed madly on into the darkness, the winds sweeping the clatter of their hoofs away. The unearthly cries of the insane driver ceased abruptly, as did the terrified voice of poor Belle Briggs. Amid the bellowing of the thunder, the roar- ing of the winds, and the crash of riven trees, no sound of living creature remained save the eerie strains of the witch's voice, screaming: “Ha! ha! ho! ho! The dead man’s bones— dead by the hand of hate!—works the fierce will of the Tormentor! Blow ye bleak blasts out from the frozen pole! The touch of yer breath is death! Fall ye dread bolts from the pitiless heaven! The wrath of the gods sears and blackens as it destroys! Scourge with yer scorpion whips the vile earth-worm, man! Bring revenge! revenge! revenge! to the witch they fear while they hate!” CHAPTER V. A FRUITLESS SEARCH. Tue struggle for the capture of Belle Briggs was a brief one, Satisfied of her escape from her human foes, Ho! Strain yer muscles | Grind the | | Little Leather-Breeches awoke to her peril from | the violence of nature and the eccentricity of the madman. So, shaking himself free from his assailants, he slipped away. With no one to fight and nothing to fight for, the icy blast soon cooled the ardor of the crowd. Blinded by the snow, shivering and with their teeth chattering, those who were not called to the task of bearing the dead man scudded to the house. The minister staid by poor Abe, urging gentle- ness upon those who liftec ering of life might hold him to suffering, and so advanced himself in the respect of those who had looked upon him as rather effeminate. To spare the women the shock of that bloody horror, the body was carried to the granary, where, a lantern having been lighted, the min- ister once more knelt and satisfied himself that life was indeed extinct. Then they went to the house, to find a wo- man quivering with terror, yet ready to do bat- tle with a mother’s undaunted courage. It was Mrs. Briggs, who, having been up- stairs, was ignorant of what had occurred, until the breaking of the storm frightened her into joining those below, where she learned the terri- ble suspicions that blanched all faces. ‘‘ What is this I am told?” she cried—*‘ that my daughter has taken the blood of a fellow- creature on her hands! Who has started this monstrous slander? Why don’t you speak?” She had deen a quiet woman—a woman of many sorrows and gentle resignation. But now her low voice was high and ringing; her kindly eyes blazed; her hand, that soothed many an aching brow was clinched. Farmer Ashmead dropped his eyes. He had been, her friend for twenty years and more— ever since she was a light-hearted girl no older than Belle! The minister came to his relief. “My dear friend!” he said, endeavoring to take her hand. But she shrunk from him. ‘*T want no soft words!” she cried. ‘“ You cannot caress me with one hand and stab me with the other! Are you all my child’s accu- sers? Tell me that!” ‘* Madame, she is her own accuser!” 1 him, lest some flick- | | | | | | but not one to win the favor of such a girl as Belle. She may have told him so, and he in a mo- Men have done such things. Then what more natural than that, in her terror and Sorrow at what had happened, through her and yet leav- ing her without blame, she should call herself his murderess—meaning that she had driven him to it? Oh! it must be that!—it is that, and no other!” ‘‘ That was her defense afterwards, but—” ‘‘She said it? she said it?’ screamed the mother, leaping toward him as if about to clasp his arm, and yet shrinking back before her hands touched him. ‘* Now God be praised!” Then turning to her friends and neighbors, with clasped hands and streaming eyes: ‘“You hear! you hear! She is innocent!” But with gentle dignity the minister recount- ed the facts as they had been witnessed, from the first appearance of Abe Seaver to the pick- ing up of the revolver known to belong to Belle. The mother listened at bay, her lips apart, her breath panting, her eyes Lard with defiant in- credulity. “Tt is not true!” she persisted. ‘If all the prophets of Israel were to appear before me and declare her guilt, [ would not believe them! I know her better. Where is she? What have you done with her?” ‘‘ With the aid of your son, she was carried off by the Mad Millionaire.” “Will did it? Well, now, I am truly proud of him! Itis not the first time he has protect- ed a defenseless woman from your heartless cruelty!” The men winced as she laughed in their faces. But then a wild blast swept round the house, causing it to fairly rock, and the snow beat against the windows as if it were being thrown by the shovelful. ‘In mercy’s name!” cried the mother, now awaking to the other peril, ‘‘is it possible that you drove a helpless girl into such a night as this? Where were your hearts—you who are fathers with daughters of your own?” “It was not our doing,” said farmer Ash- mead, ‘‘She was snatched out of our hands by your son and an irresponsible lunatic, whom—” ‘* Where are my things?” cried the indignant mother. ‘‘ May God forgive you all for your iron hearts—I never will!’ She got her shawl and bonnet, refusing to lis- ten to the women who crowded about her, begging her not to go out into that terrible tempest. As she entered the kitchen Joe Weyby step- ped forward, saying: ‘*Tf you’re bound to go, you don’t go alone.” ““Tt’s low down, and that’s a fact, for a lot of hulking fellows like us to pitch onto a little girl!” cried Jake Winters. ‘‘ Mrs. Briggs, if 7a will count me on your side, I'll be obliged e! 1e infection of sympathy took rapidly among the young men, though the older and less susceptible held out in unforgiving con- demnation. Murder was murder! Half a dozen stalwart fellows soon had their coats buttoned up to their chins and their caps drawn down over their ears, and with a young giant supporting her on either side, Mrs. Briggs went out into the storm. They took her home, and then set out with lanterns to look for Belle. The regular “‘ stool-pigeons ” were sitting la- zily about the stove in Tuttle’s grocery, smok- Ine his tobacco and ‘* swapping lies.” ‘I sw’ar!” drawled Sam Trueman, stretching lazily, ‘‘ I begin to think we’re goin’ to havea rough night to git home in.” “Pity we didn’t start an hour ago,” assented Andy Morrison, as the frame building shuddered under the buffets of the wind. ‘‘ Who ever knowed it to blow up such a bliz- zard without a minute’s warning?” Old-man Van Dyke remembered a similar case in °37; and drawing a black plug from his breeches pocket, and biting off a piece, he pro- JNA Cc '@] : ° d bd »~* Cc ¥§ < ltt ll