Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 422 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

<. PX | oy gyi t ' ie to my own room uno — ere ee CHAPTER XV. DONALD STRAHM’S CONFESSION, For several moments there was general rejoicing on the island, and no one was happier than Wilma when she saw her father and lover before her alive and well; aud Sarah Marsha!! seemed to share her joy with her, though there was one whose presence would have filled her young breast with supreme happiness, and that was Frank Rodman, who had remained ashore with Professor. Drovd, for the canoe would not carry them all. Bandy and Rodman were introd-ced'to Benray- mond, the latter and Spokane Joe having met before, as the reacer will well remember. * They tell me,’’ said Old Kit to Benraymond, “that you've been blowing up a lot of cu. laws and red-skins to-day.” ‘Yes, we had to upon the principle that self- preservat on is the first law of nature.”’ ‘*A good law, a good law, sir,’ said the old detec- tive, ‘* but is that man Strahm still living?” ‘* He’s barely alive.” ‘* is be conscious?” ‘““Yos: I will taxe you in where he liés.”” Bandy followed the man into the grove where Strahm lay upon a blanket, breathing heavily. “Fenwick,” said Benraymond, ‘here is a: man who wauts to see you. He just arrived,” “Who is it?” asked the wounded man. “Ah!” Strahm exclaimed. with a start. ** Kit Bandy, the detective— Big Horn, the renegade. You layed your cards well, Bandy, but death ‘11 soon et me out, I hope. But what do you want to see me about, Bandy ?”’ “I’ve a warrant for your arrest.”’ ‘A warrant for me? for what?” ‘* attempted murder.” * Attempted murder? of whom?’ the miserable wretch gasped. * Mrs. Ann Kirby.” ‘*My God! is she not dead?” ‘*No, your bullet failed to do its work, and she lives.” ** Where is she now?’ ¢¢ At Denver.” ‘Tam Slad to hear it—hear that shelives. I con- fess that lattempted to kill her, and the deed hag haunted me more than all the rest of my sins.” * Then your sins are many?” cbserved Bandy. ‘* Most of my life has been one of constant wrong, and all have been directed against Warren Hano- ver.” « tad a Aaron Benraymond,” added Kit, es Benraymond bit his lip and his brows contracted, but be said never a word, ‘*\What reason had you for sinning against Han- over?’ the old detective questioned. “He took from me ® woman I loved—that would have made me wealthy and independent and ors ‘*“You loved her more for her wealth than aught else, didn’t you?”’ “Perhaps I did, but, be that as it may, I lost her, and now ave lost all—ceven my own life is soon to ‘What are you in this coun for, when your homeisim England?” cra 4 et as here in search of Warren Hanover’s ebild. ‘* Do you know how that child eame here?” “Yes, yes, I know all, Bandy, and I know what you seek to know. I have no objection to tell you all, for [fear no punishment on earth, and if what I may confess will lead to the ha piness of those I have wronged, my punishment in the great here- after may be somewhat less, Give me a sup of water, will you?” His request was granted, then Old«Spokane Joe and Henry an were sent for to hear the man’s confession. ‘**In the first place,” began Donald Strahm, or more properly, Norton Fenwick, ‘‘ after the death of Hanover's wife, ber child stood between me and the fortune to which I'd been heir had Constance Han- over, WhO was my cousin, died childless. To get that child out of my way was the work | had before me, and when Warren went abroad to travel, I per- suaded Mrs. Ann Kirby, who had See cf the child, to come to America,\A few mouths after- ward | came over also, and ¢@inz to her, demanded the child and got it, telling he#I was going to return to England withit. Butinstead of coing so 1 tools the child West a long ways and left it with a settler and his wife, and—’ * What war the settler’s pame?’’ interposed O!d it. “Jack Prunty. Well, it seems Mrs, Kirby miis- trusted me, and, disguised in male attire, followed e to Omaha, where we beth took rooms. In the orig she called me into her room and upbraided me for what 1’d done, when I drew my revolver and shot her, left the hd 9 at her side and wi nt back served, but ina few minutes after tock my departure East. The nextday I read of the suicide of a stranger n: med Batés—thie name under which she registered—at the Cozzens House in Omaha, and went on my way rejoicing. At that time I had a friend living in the West who'd been -my college chum in England, but having killed a man in & quarrel escaped to America and assumed the name of Scott Drestien. Being a wild, wa fellow, he soon became associated with bad men and not only became an outlaw but en outlaw lead- er, I met bim by appointment at Omaha. To him I confided the secret of child. n d him to steal it away from Pre moe for carry and destro . tt to some remote Indian viliage so tha it would be lost sight of entirely, But before he could accom- te Baby Sam, the Boy Giant of th plish this Jack Prunty had py ; wd on ‘vp *s <>» +S ail. Bee WY. i PG Reged ames ay an ee ee eee ulled up stakes and with others started on turther west. Determined to carry out his promise, Scott led a band of In- dians and outlaws down upon the emigrant train, determined to killand capture all. *Most all were killed, and among the number were several small children, and Scott never dr: amed but that Prunty and the child had fallen, I: happened, however, that several years went by before the fortune for which Iwas planning went into the hands of the court to be settled on the next nearest of kin, I had not a doubt but that it would be turned over to me, but to my surprise some one, filed a caveat ask- ing tae court to withhold a settlement of the cstate on me, for the reason that he belicved the child of Constance Hanover was Still living in Am rica, and could be produced. The decision of tie court was that five years would be given to hunt up the child of Constance Hanover, and if she could not be found in that time, the presumption of the court would be that she—the child—was dead, ‘“*T could not imagine how such an impression got out unless Scott Dresden had played a double game, and as my fortune depended on the coild Trene never being found, I started at once for America and found Scott in §.tting Bull’seamp. I told him of tne impression that the child was etill alive, He told me then that a Mrs, Phebe Conners, who'd been taken captive ct the time of the massacre, had told him thatit was her belief that Jack Prunty and the child did escape on horseback, but that he eid not believe her story. tT made wp my mind then that it was through that same Phebe Conners that the idea got out of the child being alive, and I presume now Mrs, Kirby must have met her also."’ ‘That's it, exactly,” said OldgKit; “*but pardon my interruption.” ‘Having some four years yet to wait before I could inherit the fortune, I resolved to putin the time bunting for the child, I did not expect to know her, for. she wes, if living, some fourteen years of age. But Il hoped to learn through the settlers enough of her to make her identity certain. Seott Drescen volunteered to assist me, and for three years we have been at work searching among the settlements of the West, and about thres months ago I was in the Gallatin valley and there met a young girl whom I knew at sieht must be Irene Han- over from her wonderfal resemblance to her dead mother. Ifelt so well satisfied of this that I began to lay plans to get her into my power. I kept a spy in thesettiement all the while, and through him I learned of the proposed tour of four young people under Baby Sam through the Yellowsione Park. learned all the details of their trip even to their visit to Mary’s Lake, and it was there that I had ar- rai ged to get the girlinto my power, and succeeded but was afterward thwarted through you, Kit Ban- dy, and the Boy Giant.” “Phen that girlis Wilma Rodman,” said the de- tective, “Yes,” answered Fenwick, _ “The jig’s up with us, Henry,” said Old Spokane, in a whi-per to Rodman, “Go on, Fenwick,” said Kit. “Well. we,’ the Man continued, ‘‘that is, Dres- den’s followers and a number of Indians, encamped over in the hills, and during a ramble one day I stumbled into the camp of one Professor Drvood, and there I met, to my astonishment, Jack Prunty going under the name of Spokane Joe, I did pot appear to recognize him, nor did he recognize me, but we met ggain that evening and then I made myself known and demanded of him the whereabouts cf the ild. He refused totell. I called my friends, de- termined to take lim a prisoner and extort from him the truth, 7 rot, oh I was more certain now than ever that Wilma Rodman was mm Biel Trene. tthe man resisted and a fight ensued, and just as he was overpowered a stranger came to his reg- cue sword in hand and we were forced to flee: with- ont the hunter. That stranger, I recognized ag the object of my vengeance, Warren Hanover,” * And tha.’s you, Aaron Benraymond,”’ said Kit. Benraymond nodded his head. “Then he is Wilma’s father, Henry,” again whis- pered Spokane. ' ‘+ And Wilma Rodman then is your child!” theold detective again observed. 7” | ‘She must be! she must bo!’ the recluse replied with the greatest emotion; ‘‘I have thought so, ever since | met her. a" '* How is it, Spokane Joe? it’s your time to speak now,’’ said Bandy. has “Wal, there's no dodgin’ the question, though to lose the gal from the Gallatin,” replied Ola Spokane. with a sadness in his voice, “will be to take a!l the sunshine outen my heart—outen the heart of Henry Rodman—outen all our hearts. Wilma Rod- man is the gal that that man left with me and my wife, and I’m Jacit Prunty. After the massacre where my wife war killed and from which I escaped as Mrs. Conners predicted, 1 war leftin en awful shane with the title gal baby on my hands; but I could no more think o’ givin’ her away to some one and goin’ off where I couldn’t se- her, than I could think of flyin’. So I_iook her to the Gallatin and placed fer fe eare of Henry Rode man and his good wife, I did not like the looks of the man that first left her. with us, and after T’d learned to love her as I loved my own soul, it war arranged that she be called Wilma Rodman, and as I war not known in the Gallatin valley, I give m own name as Spokare Joe, the hunter, I did this so’s the man could never us out by our names, While Mr. Rodman has raised her to @ lovely young lady, I have always remained near where I could see her, and look poe her as my child.”’ ‘* Just so,”’ said Old Kit, rubbing his hands in a de- lighted manner, “this lets you out, Spokane; now, ~~, > » - a Yell owstone, admiring gaze, his . ———— wn Mr. Rodman, what have you to offer on the sub- ject?” ‘* Nothing more, Kit, than to say that what Spokane has told you is true,”’ the settler answered, | ‘* Well, the case is a pretty clear one now,” the old detective said, “but does Wilma know the facts connected with her eventful life?” * Yes,” answered Rodman, ‘‘ ail «xcept. the mys- tery of ber birth and babyhood previous to the day she was left at Jack Prunty’s, which was unknown to all of us up to this hour.” ‘* Well, the ends of justice have been served all around, and I'll get several thousand pounds ster: ling out of the job,” said Old Kit, * but I wonder Low that poor little gal will take the news?”’ “She will receive it,’? said Henry Rodman. * with a feeling of joy and relief, for the only trouble that has ever weighed upon her mind of late years was through a kind of presentiment that she was the child of a villain—ay, a murderer, Mr. Benraymond —Warren Hanover, I congratulate aes sir, upon being the father of so bright ard lovely a daughter. But as Old Spokane has said, to take her away from among us will be to throw a shadow over our hearts—over all the settlement—that will remain so long as memory lasts.” “T thank you, Ro man,” replied Benraymond, ‘*for the compliment you pay me; and while it is true that | bave lived, for seventeen years, the sad- dest and loneliest of lives—ever thinking of my dead wife and lost ch'ld I will not make Wilma unhappy by taking her away from her lifelong friends. Yea, if you think best, my friends, she ne: d never know that I.am her father, and I will fo my way and bear my burden until life has ended with patience and fortitude,” , ‘* Benraymond,” said Rodmen, half-choked with emotion, ‘‘ there is no ne: d of your sarffering longer. For your child to know you can but make her happy, and you happy, anc God knows a!) the rest of us will be happy.’ ‘Then Wilma of allbe mcde huppy—ler evry wis gralifi. d!]” said the great-hearted man. Leaving Ichabod Flea to wateh by the side of Donald Strahm, the four men proceeded to where Laby Sam and the maidens were seated. ‘* Wilma,”’ said Mr. Rodman. ‘‘ Yes, father,”’ and the girl arose and came up to where he stood. “My ehild,” the settler wenton, “ you remember what Spokane and I have told you'ef your past life? of your being left when a little babe With Jack Prunty and his wife?” } ‘*To Le sure, father, I remember i‘, Wilma. é ‘* That dying man has made a revelation.”’ ‘*What, father? what was it?’ the maidon ex- claimed, ‘half in dread of something terrible. ‘* He is the man, 80 he and Spokane both say, that left you with Prunty and his wife,” a \ hat! that mau my father?” the girl shrieled, starting back with a look of distress upon her lace. ‘‘No, Wilma,” replied Rodman. “le is not yéur father, thank God, but this noble-looking man, Aaron Renraymond, or rathér Warren Hanover, i: your father.” Warren Hanover ttood with his arms feljed across his breast, his eyes fixed upon Wilnta with a fond} ‘reat heart beating wildly. Wilma utt red alittle cry and glanced wildly from wae i 8 Rodman to Hanover, and then as her eyes met those of the recluse fixed upon her she gave a wild glad ery, and running to Hanover threw her arms about his neck ard burst into tears. ‘‘My father! my father!” she eried; ‘God has heard my prayers! Oh, my dear, strange father! I rayed that you might prove io be my father, when i lay helpless in your cabin!” ‘““And my dear girl, when I first looked upon your sweet face, the very image of your dead mother’s, my yearning, hungcring heart told me you were ny child!” replied the happy father. The reunion of father and daughter was a mostaf- Sear oe sage every witness of the event being moved to tears.. “Say, folks,” and Iehabod Flea suddenly i a ed from the grove, “by the Jerusalem crickets! Norton Penwick's deader’n the mother o’ Adam!” ‘You don’t say so?” exclaimed Old Kit. “1 do—be went-off as easy as a turtle off a log.” “May the Lord have mercy on bis soul,”’ said Warren Hanover, seriousl: . “God's will be done,” added Henry Rodman. rep ied A week has passed, end we find those whom we have followed through the perils avd wonders of Wonderland safely at home in the Gallatin valley. arren Hanover became the guest of Henry Rod- man, while Old Kit Bandy and Ichabod Flea pushed on to Denver to report the success of their long hunt to Matthew Hoopel and Mrs, Megg's. lanover was not long in deciding his fature course, and that was to remain im the Gallatin val- ley—not only as a matter of choice, but that his daughter might be near those with whom she had frown to womanhood, and those whom she loved. He, however, mede a trip to England, accompanied by Wilma, and her old nurse, Mrs. Ann Kirby; but as soon as Wilma’s right had been established to her inheritance, all returned and took pyshent abode in the lovely valley where they are living in the enjoy- ment of a fuland happy life, = Baby Sam will probably always be known by that name among those who have known him from boy- hood; but, be that asit may, there will never be a braver, nobler youth in all the land— ma’s. f THR END. eV ’ / | -EOmIiGc = 5 e % none mo i worthy of a beautiful woman’s love than he of Wil. A