Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 429 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

= So they accepted the situation as it appeared bo be, and settled, in their own minds, that Dun- can Dare was old enough to hang, and must hang for his crime. But first catch him, was the decision that they came to, and they awaited anxiously the return of Constable Kane. All had a quict admiration for the Constable’s abilities in detective work, and of his courage, and the words that were oftenest heard, were: ‘*‘ Just wait until Nat Kane gets back. *“ He'll find him.” People seemed to feel that widow Dare knew where her son was, for she did not appear, in their minds, to suffer enough through his ab- sence as a refugee from justice. She was wont, after the departure of the con- stable, to ride over to the village every day, and arrive there just before the mail-coach came Then she would wait to see if any letter came for her, and, with a disappointed look would mount her horse and ride s if homeward, Now the widow was greatly admired, and being possessed of a snug little property, and it having became known that she had intended to marry Silas Finn, the beaux of the village were wont to regard these daily rides of hers with a look of favor, and they spruced up and regular- ly were ov hand at the mail to get a bow ora word from her. A very handsome woman she was too, as seen in her snug-fitting cane habit and fancy hat, and few persons would have believed her over twenty-six years of age. Pale she certainly was, except when the exer- cise of riding flushed her face; but her eyes wore a strangely sad look, and there were lines around the corners of her mouth which were forming there from suffering. One day the widow was a little late in arriv- ing at the little post-office, and as she rode up she saw a group of persons standing around Miser Bolls, as Barney Bolls was familiarly known. The miser had something in his hand, which all seemed to be regarding, and he evidently was the first to catch sight of the approach of widow Dare, for his face changed color and he hastily entered the office of the tavern. Up dashed the widow, and refusing aid of- fered, sprung to the ground, threw her rein over a hitching-post, and entered the little post-office at the end of the tavern piazza. She bowed coldly in acknowledgment to va- rious salutes, and, with one end of her skirt thrown over her left arm, and her riding-whip in her right hand, she asked: ‘* Any letters for me to-day, Mr. Jinkins?” ‘‘- Yes, widow Dare, there was one, and it is in the handwriting of your son, so said those who knows his writin’,” answered the man in the office, ‘‘ What right, sir, have you to allow any one to examine a letter arriving for me? ‘‘Give it to me instantly, sir, and do not let this happen again,” and her voice rung with anger, while her eyes flashed. My dear widow Dare, I meant no harm; but Barney Bolls said as how he was going over to see you and would take it to you, and he said it was Duncan’s writing, as did others.” ‘* And that wretch kas it?” ** What wretch, widow?” ‘** That miserly old wretch, Barney Bolls.” ‘*' Yes, widow.” ’ ‘*'Where is he?” ‘* He has gone, widow.” ‘‘Mr. Jinkins, I wish you to distinctly under- stand that your office as postmaster is a sa- cred one, and you have no right to exhibit a letter; and [ warn you, sir, not to give any missive coming for me to any one whomsoever, for I will call for my letters; and if I hear it rumored when I get one, I shall see that you are reported to Government as unworthy of your place.” The widow’s voice rung with anger, and Postmaster Jinkins trembled beneath her glance and words, while all who heard were awed and gave way with alacrity as she walked down the piazza. ‘‘ Where is Barney Bolls?” she asked, address- ing her question to the crowd in general, “He was here when you rode up, widow Dare, and went into the tap-room,” said one, Into the tap-room the brave woman stalked. Barney Bolls was there, seated in a corner yor the fire—for a fire was burning upon the ’* rth, the day being chilly. stu: He had not expected the widow to come into Silipiace where men were drinking, but he was mistaken, that was all, for Mary Dare was in deadly earnest. Duncan Dare, the Bo Miser Bolls held a paper before him to hide himself, as he saw her, and his face changed color; but she walked straight toward him, and said: ‘* Miser Bolls, you offered to take a letter to me, and why have you not done so?” ‘You told me not to again visit your house, widow, or you would set the dogs on me,” whin- ed Bolls, while the crowd looked on with in- creasing interest. “Why did you then say you would bring me my letter, sir?” ‘‘T meant to send it to you, widow.” ‘*Give that letter to me at once, sir!” ‘*T[—I—I think I shall keep it, widow, and give it to Constable Kane when he returns.” ‘‘What has Constable Kane to do with my letters, sir?’ and Mary Dare spoke with strange calmness, ‘* The letter is from ‘* Give it to me, sir!’ ‘* No, widow, I shall keep it for the constable.” The eyes of the woman jairly blazed. She knew that the letter must be from her loved boy, a refugee from his home, branded with the stain of murder. If seen, his address would be known, he would be arrested, brought there and hanged, young as he was. She was like a tigress at bay, and fairly hissed the words: ‘“Give me that letter, sir, or take the conse- quences!” ‘‘T shall keep it, as it is my duty to do, for the law would make you give it up,” boldly said Barney Bolls. ‘‘Do you refuse?” ‘‘T hate to, widow, but I feel that I am doing my duty,” whined the miserly old wretch. Quick as a flash the whip was in the air, and ae lash descended upon the shoulders of Barney olls. ** Oh!” he cried, as the lash cut to hurt, and he threw up his hands to protect himself. But hot and fast rained the blows, over his shoulders, head, face and hands, and the wretch howled with pain, and attempted to escape. But she kept him in the corner, hurling him back with a strength no one would believe she could possess, and the whack, whack of thewhip mingled with his yells of pain. s Mercy widow, have mercy !” he yelled. ‘‘Give me that letter, sir!’ was the stern re- ‘“Mercy! mercy! take her away! take her away ? But not one moved to his aid, and still the blows fell fast and furious. **'You will kill me, widow!” ‘* Give me my letter, sir!” ‘‘Oh God! I must do it to save my life,” he shouted, and he thrust his hand into his breast ocket, drew out the letter and threw ib from im, at the same time crying out: : “ome of you take it and run with it!” Some did spring forward, and one young man got his hand upon it, but he yelled In agony as the widow’s trim foot went down upon his fin- gers with a force that nearly crushed the bones, _ Instantly she stooped and seized the letter, just as a deputy-constable entered the door. _ Quick as a flash she sprung to the hearth, and into the flames she dashed the letter, while turning, she stood at bay as’ the constable rush- ed forward. ‘Back, Constable Dunn, or I shall strike one and she shortened her whip, bringing the andle up for use instead of the lash. The constable halted, and in that instant the letter was destroyed, and with a light laugh the brave woman walked out of the tap-room as soon as she saw that’but ashes remained of the tell-tale missive from her son. CHAPTER XVII. THE ARREST. Mount nG her horse, after her exciting scene in the tap-room of the tavern, widow Dare rode away ata rapid gallop. Those who watched her saw that she did not take the road to her home, but went along the highway in the direction of the ‘‘ Haunted School-house,” as the little building was now called, where Silas Finn had lost his life. Strange stories were already told of persons having seen the ghost of the schoolmaster walk- ing among the graves, as had been his wont In life. Along dashed the widow Dare, and arriving at the school-house, she drew her horse down to a halt and gazed toward the new-made grave of Silas Finn. What thoughts surged through her head—who can tell? your boy, and—” S i CL LL LLL LL LLL A, ee ____ 11 ——— But bitter they must have been, for her face was full of anguish. Brushing away tears that came unbidden, she again rode on, wheeling into a road that led toward a hill upon which was situated a grand home in the midst of a park of giant trees. It was the home of the Hamptons, and had been for several generations, Known as Hampton Hall, it was declared to be the finest homestead on Long Island. A thousand of acres surrounded it, the fields being well cultivated, the pastures rich with grass, and hundreds of well-fed horses, cattle and sheep were visible feeding in a valley, through which ran a small stream. Hampton Hall was two stories and a half high, had innumerable piazzas here and there, several wings, and boasted of nearly thirty rooms; in fact it was larger than the village tavern. The rooms were all comfortably furnished, though the squire, with only himself and daugh- ter, for he was a widower, occupied but one wing. But then there were half a dozen servants about the house, and Squire Hampton was wont to entertain well, He devoted his time to teaching his little girl though he allowed her to go to the village school of Silas Finn: but woe would it have been to Silas had the squire known that he had raised his hand to Jessie. The pretty young miss had not made known this fact, fearing she would be taken from school and thus see no more of Duncan Dare, for it was a case of deep girlish love on her part for the handsome boy. Up to the door rode the widow, and the squire erp down the broad steps and aided her to alight. ‘““T am delighted to see you, Mistress Dare,” he said, ‘*‘ and this isan honor, your calling, and I fear me much it is only occasioned by some- thing having gone wrong. ‘‘ But come in and see my little girl, for she is up and well again, though very sad.” He led the widow up to the piazza, and there they were met by Jessie. She looked pinched with suffering, and white; 7a she smiled sweetly and put up her lips for a ciss, ‘* We will sit out here, as it is pleasant,” the squire said, and a servant brought easy-chairs and placed them upon the piazza. The view from Hampton Hall was a grand one indeed, showing meadow, hill and valley and plains, and beyond the rolling ocean. The landscape was dotted with pleasant houses and the village, a mile or more away, looked very peaceful and inviting from the piazza. ‘*T am glad to see you so much improved, Jes- sie, and have wanted to come over and call, yet feared to do so, as it might worry you,” said widow Dare in her sweet “way, and the squire could not but think how handsome she was. ** Thank you, Mistress Dare: but have you heard from Duncan?” and the tears came into Jessie’s pretty eyes. ‘Tt is on that account I have come, and, squire, I wish to consult you, for I took the law in my own hands to-day, though Heaven knows I could not help it.” ‘* Indeed! hat have you done, Mistress Dare?” anxiously and eagerly asked the squire. ‘‘T horsewhipped that old scamp, Barney Bolls.” The squire suddenly broke forth into a hearty laugh, and Jessie joined in. ‘But Iam rude, Mistress Dare, only it seemed so ludicrous, and I know he deserved it; but tell me of it, please.” In a few words the widow told her story, and the squire again laughed, and then compliment- ed her upon her pluck. ‘* But you burned the letter, you say?” ‘¢ Yes, sir.” “That is most unfortunate, for I do not think Deputy Dunn meant to take it from you, or : would have dared do so, and you have Jost Duncan’s address, as he doubtless gave you one, and, not hearing from you in reply, he may deem that you have cast him off. ‘* But we will hope for the best, and that he will write again; and, after all, it is best that the let- ter was destroyed, as somehow the boy’saddress might have become known, and I advise you to send to the distributing office in New York and order your letters held there for you, so that they do not come here, and you can manage to get them in some way every week or two.” ‘*T will do so, squire; but yonder comes Deputy Dunn, and Barney Bolls is with him, for I recognize his old blind horse.” “You are right, and they are coming here,”