Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 42 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

a pee dilated eyes, the miners saw the Phantom slowly de- scend out of mid-air and enter the old vine-wreathed habitation. ** Now’s our time, lads!’’ whispered Avalanche, ex- citedly. ‘*Ther bird’s caged, an’ we’ll cremate it. Snatch a torch an’ kim along. Ther old shell’s dry, an’ ‘ll burn like old been-zeen!”’ He plucked a burning brand from the fire, and his companions did likewise; then in a body they rushed toward the old cabin, looking wild and weird under Ln flaring y Sere dele Not s baa reed Cat we a e so many flery on ey plun on, and at last stood by the side of the cabin, which was fast yielding to the ravages of worms and decay. The work of setting the fire in half a dozen places was but of a moment: then the miners drew back at a safe distance, and watched the flames run madly through the cxen oy vines that covered the cabin walls. They crac and eed high toward the heavens, luridly illumining the black night. erly the miners watched the spectacle, believ- ing that they had successfully triumphed over the Phantom—had caged it in this flery trap. **Ha! ha!’ laughed Little Alf, gleefully, “it’s good- by, Phantom Miner, now. Hark! don’t ye hear him frying in yonder furnace?” *He’s a gone goose, I reckon,” replied Keno, “ on- less ye ken’t scorch speerits, I never hed enny ‘speri- énce in thet line, myself.” cried Avalanche. “Scorch nothin’! suddenl inted fowsrt the burning cabin. ig /” and he The vines nearly burned away, and the flames were beginning to creep over the dry logs, when all at once that mysterious apparition of the Phantom ere on the roof, which was sur- rounded by eaping flames. A wild, awful shriek; then the ¢ ing an swiftly to arise, and floated like a cloud off up into the blackness of the overcast heavens, until lost from view. The startling words of threat caused Carlos Cam- ie to wheel about, his hand seeking a revolver in belt. But he paused and hesitated, when his eyes rested on the black knight of road-agents—the familiar, somber-clad figure of Deadwood Dick. wal i he gasped, allowing his hand to drop to e. “Yes, J/” replied the young outlaw. “I saw you here, and came to see if you have forgotten your ” ‘**N-no! of course not,” the ex-lieutenant faltered, beneath the other’s stern gaze. ‘ But, you must give me time.”’ “Until the 2th—your death-day!’’ was the cool, stern answer. “Dick! oh! Dick! Is this really you?” Leone had put her babe into the arms of Noisy Nell, and sprung erly forward—stood before the man in black, hopeful, and oh! so fearful he would | e her advance. e looked down at her a moment; then put his arm gently around her, drawing her close to him. -" e, n we meet—unexpectedly, for I su posed you far from here. But, we must part. he must remain unbroken. Is that the—our ry %9 Yes, that is our Dick,’’ Leone said, reaching for the babe that he ht more closely inspect it. See, Dicky, this is your vere Oh! Eddie, he is all I have left, now, since you deserted me. Oh! my husband,”"’ and her voice was lowered to a whisper, ‘will you never come back?” ** Sometime, peerless!’’ was the low reply, then he turned upon his heel, and strode away in the dark- ness. Cambre soon followed. He saw no chance of steal- om Beg child at present, and besides, he had work to attend to, elsewhere. After he had gone, Leone and Noisy Nell stood in their front yard, and watched the progress of the flames for some time. But at last th grew tired of the glare, and retired into the shanty which was Nellie Brandon’s home. There were but a couple of Pion Bee but these were neatly furnished, and ee : < _ Leone seated herself before a low fire which burn- ed upon the hearth, clasping infant Dick close to her breast. There were tears in her eyes, for the words ef Deadwood Dick had been more painful than com- forting. They had illy-fed the craving desire within her breast—she could scarcely believe that it was re- ally so. Yet, who else could play his part so fault- lessly? Ah! it must be he; but yet so cold and ee te the once ae Deadwood Dick. He betrayed no sign of a surviving passion for her; he had Ss given _her darling baby-boy a careless glance—he said: “‘ Sometime, peerless !’’ and then was gone; what comfort to her? She was softly to herself, when Noisy Nell came and salted herself by the fire. “What! crying again, Mrs. Harris? Please don’t; ~~ will cry your pretty eyes out, some of these Oh! I cannot help it, Nelly. You don’t know any thing about it, for you were never the mother of a husband’s child, and that husband estranged from you. Oh! it seems, sometimes, as if I could not live this life much longer, without him. You were never in love, Nellie!’’ “Never,” the girl answered, staring moodily into the fire. ‘‘I’ve nr it alone for ten years —since I was eight, but no one ever seemed to care for me, unless some rough attempted to make him- self familiar, when he generally got paid back in his own coin. I've seen those I think I could have loved, but they were such as don’t often notice in my on, ss there ain’t much at ms about oisy Nell.” And then there came a bitter little laugh from the girl, that was sad to hear. | sf anon. Beadle’s Half-Dime, Library. **Oh! do not despair. Pretty girls like you can- not always escape observation and admiration. I hope, however, that ae will find a happier lot than Ihave. Oh! lam utterly wretched and miserable. I care not to live unless Ican have my darling back ain.’’ B How did you come to part, dear sister? You promised to tell me your story, but never have.” **No, because it is painful to rehearse the scenes I et to forget,’’ replied Leone, closing her eyes wea- y. She soon roused, however, and told her story a a pitiful way, that affected Nelly Brandon to ears, But she did not screen herself in the recital—told . as it was, even to holding Deadwood Dick blame- ess. ‘** And do you know,”’ Nelly said, after she had lis- tened attentively to the story, “that, after what I have heard, I do not believe that was your husband at the cap item ap It was some outlaw who has an ‘aking 3 your history, and is working up some heinous plot, using Mr. Harris’s name as a shield to his identity. I saw your husband in company with Old Avalanche, a couple of weeks ago, on the night of their arrival in Eureka, but I do not believe that this was he whom we saw to-night.”’ “Then is not Red-Hot Harris and this man the same? I am sure the former is not Dick’s brother, for I never heard him méntion that he hadone. He has a sweet sister—Mrs. Anita McKenzie—in Dead- wood, but I never saw, or heard him speak of having a brother.” “T hardly think Red-Hot Harris was this man to- night, for he would hardly have had time to have changed his costume after escaping from the Man- Trap, until this so-called Deadwood Dick came along. There is a mystery somewhere, which I can- not solve.” “*T believe I would like to see Old Avalanche; he might explain.” “Hardly, I think, for even he knows nothing of the whereabouts of your husband, not having seen him since the first night of their arrival here.”’ At this instant there came a timorous knock at the door; then the sdund of retreating footste “What does this mean?” exclaimed Nellie picking up a paper that had been thrust under the door. ital mercy! Listen, Leone; it is a warning to you: “Fly, without delay. If you have male friends, seek them. Above all, beware of Carlos Cambre. He is scheming to steal your child, to deliver into the hands of a man—Deadwood Dick No. 2. Never leave the babe unprotected. Will report further, ETECTIVE.”’ CHAPTER IX. A CLEW OF CRIME—FLEEING FROM FOES. On the morning succeeding the fire, when the ex- citement of the ht was somewhat subdued, the Eurekaites gave their attention to the matter of the murder and robbery at the Oaks. _Cornell, the man-servant who had brought the re- Hawt, A6oots ed by Murrill, a newly-appointed sheriff, and Roxly, the Regulator, with a posse of armed men, set out for the scene of the massacre, as soon as day dawned, to investigate matters, for, al- though Fordyce Graylford was a miser and not a general favorite, his influence was not to be despised. Little information could be obtained of Cornell con the affair, more than that immediately after dark, on the eo re night, a band of masked outlaws had sarpeteed the household while they were at supper, and had shot them down without mercy, he, Cornell, being the only one to escape. The out- laws did not seem to have any leader, but a to understand their work as if it had pre- woody been planned out, On their arrival at the mansion, the servant’s statement was found to be correct, all except that Fordyce Graylford was not d but seriously wounded. His wife, son, and daughter and five ser- vants lay dead where they had been shot down. The old speculator was wounded in a dozen places, and faint and exhausted from a t loss of blood, but to himse had about from place to place, leaving a gory trail wherever he had gone. e seemed relieved when he saw that friends had come. “Do you the author of this fearful tra- gody, Gintein raylford?” asked Murrill, the new she No! God only knows who can have struck me such a blow. But that he is numbered with the dead, there is one I could ig ge for he has several times of late threatened my life.’ * Ah! pechars bet Bo already struck aclew. To whom do you refer?” wae my 80D, who lies dead, yonder. But I cannot suspect him, now.” ‘““Ah! he may be the traitor; there is no telling. Men, remove these bodies and see that they are pre- ared for burial. Roxly you are a surgeon ; - the captain's wounds. And after gi these orders, the sheriff went over to the stark, stiff of yoitine and went through the pockets of his clot ; He once been in the detective service, was shrewd, well educa and quick to draw correct conclusions. At least, it proved so in this case. From among other t taken from the young man’s pockets, he soon selected a small note, pen- ned in a bold, graceful hand. It had been written on the day before, and ran as follows: ‘The men will come. It is best I should not ac- company them. Look out for yourself about nine in the evening. CAMBRE. “Ha! ha! Cambre,” muttered Murrill, scratching his head. ‘As long as I have been in Eureka 1 never before heard that name, Either it is an assumed one, or else this Cambre is a new arrival. Let me see. I will keep this matter close, and work up the case without publicity. I feel like trying my hand in the detective line ay pet He put the al in his pocket, and hel the bodies. e old speculator was fixed up as best he could be under the circumstance and” left remove in care of a coke of competent nurses. e aims of the outlaw-ruffians had been, no doubt, to mur- der the household, and then rob the e of the hoards of money which Fordyce Graylford was su at to 2 awn a But in this they were baffled. ey had blown open the safe, but, according to the old speculator, had found no booty, as he had several days before buried his treasure where no one could find it except himself. Thus had the outlaws realized nothing but blood for their crime. She Murrill went back to Eureka, and made careful inquiries after a man named Cambre, but amid the seething populace of the infant Deadwood, no one knew aught concerning the individual in question. A governor or president might have been among the surging throng that ever swarmed in the streets, without be Bee Satay But Murrill was not baffled. He was possessed of great patience, and one failure by no means discour- aged him. He resolved to watch and wait, trusting to luck and his own keen powers of oa to sift the matter to the bottom. If a Cambre there was in Eureka, he was satisfied he could find him. Later in the day he shouldered his rifle, and set off up the gulch, ha in mind to shoot a deer if one came conveniently within range. But a couple of hours’ oe ae among the mountain crags put him all out of the notion of game, and seating him- self upon a natural rocky platform, he drew the little piece of paper from his pocket, and scanned the few lines, eagerly. This was a game that was well worth capturing wits eo offered a reward, which he undoubtedly would. ““Cambre! Cambre! Iam sure I never heard the name. Sort of a Spanish one, I should say. And what now becomes necessary, is that I should dis- cover the whereabouts of this individual. He is the author of this murder at the Oaks, and Graylford’s son was in league with him, but accidentally got into the trap he had helped to lay. This note says, ‘look out for yourself about nine in the evening.’ Cor- nell states that the attack and massacre were made at seven; which accounts for matters a little. H it! I wish I could find some one who knows th Cambre.”’ “Wishes are often unexpectedly realized!” said a cool voice, close at hand, and Murrill glanced quick- around to behold a person seated astride a bowl- er directly in his rear, where he had evidently been for some moments a listener to the sheriff’s mutter- ed soliloquy. “I en to know this same individ- ual you arein quest of.” “Eh! rom do?” exclaimed Murrill, staring curi- ously at the handsome black-clad figure, whose face was masked and shaded by a broad sombrero, ‘** Who are you, pray?” “Tt hardly matters. I am one whom the world drives before it—an outcast, a wanderer, and an ex- road-agent chief.” owing @ Witle uneasy, for he percetved that the a e uneasy, for he perceiv at the young outlaw’s hand rested upon arevolver, while he not reach for one. “Yes, Deadwood Dick, if was the indifferent reply. back when struck at. you harm as long as ou like it that way,”’ “The man that strikes on't fear; I shall not offer ou find it convenient to mind our own business. ou know how the other sheriff eparted. It was all of rash hot-headed- ness.”’ “You say so, because you recognize no law, young man.” “No more I don’t. But didn’t I offer to make amends, and become an honest loyal citizen, if the le of Eureka would accept of me? Yes, you ow 1 did, and ye Be my hate rather than m friendship. ‘They 1 have all they want of it, Which do you prefer, sir?” Murrill reflected, ‘He had no grudge against this youth, Why should he enlist nst him, when ap- y his friendship would not be despised. “T prefer your friendship. We can more advanta- geously become gare oh grrr I en I ave no — you, an agreeable we can be frien in Carnant. * “It is agreeable, decidedly,”” Deadwood Dick said, sliding down from his perch, and extending his black-gloved hand. “I have so few true friends in the world, that I am anxious to add to the list. I ei iniplicitly. “My friendship is lastin ** Implicitly. endship , and you will find me ready’ to strke in defense ofa friend.” “T ask no one to fight battles,” replied the ex- road-agent, proudly. ‘‘ All my life I have had to de- pend upon my own muscle. I can fight the battle on alone. I ask is that they will give me time to pray for every soul I send to perdition; then I am to receive them.” ‘* You look at matters on the wrong side,” Murrill said, when he had listened to a part of Harris's eventful history. ‘‘ You can easily quit this sort of life, b going , where you areunknown. Take my ce and go. Hunt up your deserted wife and boy, and leave this western sod forever behind ou.” a eead aman Ne fot. “No, I could no way from the West. rg aioe aru tea ow 0 yo rem the bi ounds of the law?’ si 7 ‘* Perhaps for years—”’ “Nota month. I'll wager my life I’m not un- JOO EGOmMmiile “S (E@)