Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 429 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

= At last hearose to go home; to his little thirty- acre farm beyond the village. ‘* There is considerable mystery in all this,” he muttered, as he drew his coat about him, pulled his hat down over his face and went out. Briskly he walked along, and his way lay by the dilapidated house of Barney Bolls. ‘* What! old Barney up at this time, wasting oil,” he said, as he saw alight in the miser’s wing of the old house. As he drew nearer he saw that the door was ‘wide open and, the rain was driving in. He stopped in amazement, and then ventured. forward. In through the rickety gateway he went, and stepped quickly into the house, wile the room the miser kept as a sitting and dining-room combined. The door leading into the bedroom beyond ‘was also open, and there was no light there. ‘* Barney Bolls, where are you?” called out the constable. No answer came. There seemed to be a strange feeling in the air, and, seizing the lamp, the constable entered the bedroom, To his stern lips came a cry, for thero, seated in his chair all dressed, was Barney Bolls, but a bullet-wound was in the center of his forehead. ‘*The manis dead! Great God! what does this mean?” He darted out into the hallway to call up the old servants of the miser. They were not there, and then the constable remembered having seen them in the outgoing stage going to see their son in a distant village, as was their wont twice a year. Closing the door the constable ventured back to the village, the magistrate was aroused and told the strange story, and then with that digni- tary and a deputy, Constable Kane returned to the home of the miser. He still rested in his easy-chair, and a look of alarm was upon his whip-scarred face. There was no indication of robbery, for noth- ing seemed to be disturbed. Some one hinted that it might be revenge. Then the name of widow Dare was somehow mentioned, and the magistrate made known how he had been told by a drunken villager, that he had met the widow Dare in the forest near the school-house, the night of the Silas Finn murder. The drunken fellow had not spoken of it again, and so the judge had not pushed the matter. Now a second murder had been committed, the widow had been seen riding through the town, and it was on just such a stormy night as when the master was killed. The three men, the judge and the constables, looked at each other and shook their heads. Duncan Dare had had reason to be revenge- ful toward the dominie, as the widow had to feel revenge against the miser, It looked very black for widow Dare, and so the judge and the constable mounted their horses and rode away to Dare farm, leaving the deputy in charge of the miser’s body and home, The widow Dare had tried if vain to sleep, so she had arisen, dressed herself, and in answer to the knock went to the door. It was the constable and the judge. ‘Widow, I am back again,” *¢ Yes, constable; comein, youand the judge,” and she led the way to the sitting-room. ‘‘Tt is after midnight, Mistress Dare, and you have not gone to bed,” said the judge, ‘* No, i cannot sleep: but why have you come?” she said fretfully. ‘‘May I ask if you have a pistol, Mistress Dare?” ‘*- Ves, one that belonged to my husband. ‘‘T just was about to load it when I heard your knock.” ‘Tt was not loaded, then?” ‘‘ No; for I fired it off to-night at a fox that crossed my path.” ‘*To-night? Then you have been abroad to- night?” ‘‘T may as well confess it, constable; I rode over to Hampton Hall to tell the Squire what you had told me regarding my poor boy.” ‘* Did you go elsewhere?” ac No.”’ ‘Widow Dare, do you not feel revengeful toward Barney Bolls?” ‘‘Heaven knows that I cannot help it,” she moaned, ‘‘ May I ask, Mistress Dare, if you were not out on the night of the storm some weeks ago, the night that Silas Finn was murdered?” They saw her start, but she answered: ‘*T was.” ‘¢ Where did you go?” ‘“'T’o the school-house.” oe eS They started then, and she continued. ‘¢ Silas Finn had cruelly beaten my poor boy, and I was engaged to him, but I went to sever that engagement, and bid him do his worst. ‘‘T found him sitting at his table dead: but I kept the secret, as I teared 1 would be accused of his murder.” ‘‘ Widow Dare, Barney Bolls is also dead.” ‘Dead! Do you speak the truth, sir?” ‘*T do, for he was found to-night, seated in his chair, a bullet in his brain.” ‘¢Oh God!” and the beautiful head was droop: ed in anguish. ‘* Widow Dare, as a magistrate, it is my duty to have you arrested upon the fearful charge of being the murderess of both Silas Finn and Barney Bolls. hi o would have believed that one so beauti- ful could be so cold-blooded an assassin,” and the magistrate was deeply moved. But Mary Dare did not even quiver at his words; pallid as death she said simply: ‘*‘T am ready to go with you to jail, consta- ble, for it seems my fate to suffer all human kind can bear and yet live on.” The storm blew itself out, the sun arose ina clear sky, and its rays, penetrating the iron grating of the jail window, fell upon Mary - are in a cell, accused of being doubly a mur- eress. CHAPTER XXTT. THE YOUNG SAILOR’S FORTUNE. WEEKS passed away since the arrest of the lovely widow Dare, and she still lay in her prison cell e.waiting trial. One morning the constable got a letter that seemed to stagger him. He wiped his eyes over and over again, as he read it, and he looked both amazed and pleased. At length he went up to see the magistrate, and they had a long talk together. ‘*Then the two went to Hampton Hall and conversed with the squire. ‘* Read the letter again aloud,” said the magis- trate, and the constable obeyed. It was as follows: ‘*New York, Oct, 70, 18—. ‘*My Dear CONSTABLE KANE:— **T am sorry I did not have a chance for a talk alone with you, the night you came on board the irate schooner, to carry me back as arunaway; but it is now turning out all right, as you shall see. ‘*] could not stayin the country, after my flog- ging from Silas Finn, so 1 swam out to the schooner that night, when she lay at anchor on the shoals. ‘**She proved to be the West Indian pirate, Spit- fire, and they wished me to pilot them into the inlet; but this I rehused, and yet took them to sea. “Seeing how well I handled a vessel, the pirate captain nade me second luff, and 1 was forced te take it, honest boy though I was. ** Besides, I wished to aid a lady on board to es- cape. ‘*Tt seems she had a lover, a young naval officer, who went to the bad; one day he came to her home on the Chesapeake Bay and kidnapped her, and she found out he was a pirate. ‘* She would not marry him, and he held her pris- oner, hoping to force her to do so. ‘* She tol: me her story, and that her father was a planter on Chesapeake Bay, so I remained on board to help her get away, and also to capture the pirate. “7 got away with ber at last, for we sailed for Bal- timore after leaving New York, where you came on board, and I carried the lady home. “The captain of a brig-of-war took me up to Washington, and the President made me a middy,. and told me to capture the schooner, for I told him I could do so, ‘*T knew just what the plans of the captain were, and so I plotted accordingly. ‘* He had papers, received from some old pirate, telling of a treasure buried on Long Island, and that an Old buccaneer lieutenant lived there, as a school- master, trying himself to find the buried treasure. “That old schoolmaster was Silas Finn. ‘*Before I swam out to the schooner, the pirate captain had landed with some men, and had gone to the school-house and shot Silas Finn, for he found in him an old foe; but they did not find the treasure, and hurried back to the schooner, asthe storm was coming on, and then it was I went on board. ‘* Now, the pirates have set a time to land again and look up the treasure, and they think they know where it is, and I want you to help me capture them. “They have set two weeks from to-night, and I shall take a coaster and forty American sailors and follow the schooner down to her anchorage. ‘* After they land I shall capture the schooner, and I wish you, with a party of villagers, to surround the landing party and take them. “There will be some twenty of them all well armed, ‘“Now, get your men together, but tell no one what is up, and I'll let you hear from me again. ‘*T will send my love to no one, as I do not wish them to know of me until I come back with flying colors. ** Your friend, UNCAN DARE. D “Pp, §.—I am spying on the pirate, and I just learned that a landing was made by three of them, Duncan Dare, the Boy Refugee. _ FOO rr Or oO OO - wm qeuoqr i - um+¢»memnnm_ —_—_ Ow rrowO]}nWNn a ess “Xe some time ago, and that they shot old miser Bol whom they say had found the treasure, but woul not reveal its hidiny-place to them. ‘* Be sure and be ready for them when they come, ‘* But [Pll write or send word again.”’ The judge, the squire, and the constable look ed at each other, and then the former said: ‘‘ Squire, offer bail for the widow, and then ou go over and escort her home.” ‘*T'll do it,” said the squire, and soon after the widow Dare was being driven home; but the news he had the honest man eould not keep, and he told her all. Then the brave woman broke down, and when she reached her home she was very ill. For days she hovered between lite and death, and then the danger was passed, and once more she was herself again; but kind-hearted people said she had better died, than live to meet the unishment she must suffer for the crimes she ad committed. But many there were who felt no pity for the beautiful assassin, as they called her, and were angry that she had been allowed to leave the jail. ‘* It’s the squire’s work, and if she is not hang- ed he’ll marry her,” was the cruel way they put it. CHAPTER XXIII. CONCLUSION, TRUE to his word, Duncan Dare again wrote to the constable, and so, when the night rolled around, when the pirates were to land upon their secret expedition after the treasure, all was in readiness to receive them. Constable Kane had picked his men, two- score of them, armed and drilled them secretly by night, and yet not one of them knew the duty they were to perform. ; About nine o’clock, a schooner ran into the Dare farm inlet, and dropped anchor, and soon pater two boats loaded with men, put off for the shore. Landing, and under the guidance of one who seemed to know the way, the party started through the forest and stopped at the deserted house of miser Barney Bolls, which was now shunned by all. The men carried spades and picks, and enter- ing the house, began to take up the floor of the room in which the miser had lived. But suddenly a voice cried: ‘* Down on your faces all of you, or die!” The voice came from the walls, it seemed. Some obeyed, others started to run, shots fol- lowed, men fell dead, and soon the band of pirates were prisoners, for Constable Kane had well-planned his attack. ‘* Where is your captain?” cried the constable. No one knew, and it was at once known that the pirate chief had escaped. Then shots and cries were heard down by the sea, and Constable Kane, leaving a party as a guard over the prisoners and dead, hastened with others to the rescue, The firing ceased ere he got there, and upon > his arrival upon the shore of the inlet, he saw two vessels lying side by side. One was an armed schooner, the other a mer- chant craft. ‘* Ho, the schooner!” he hailed. ‘‘Ay, ay! is that you, Constable Kane? ‘‘ Ay, my lad, and we have bagged all of our game but the chief.” ‘* And I have captured the schooner; but the pirate chief must not sent 1p ‘‘Come ashore, lad, and let the people know who you are!” cried the constable. Springing into a boat, the boy was rowed ashore, and as he sprung out upon the beach, the bright moonlight rovealed in midshipman’s uniform, Duncan Dare. ‘* Men, this is Midshipman Duncan Dare, of the United States navy—and not a murderer and outlaw, as we all once believed him to be. ‘But, Duncan, my lad. I'll lcok after the craft: and prisoners for you, while you hasten up to the house to see your mother, for she has er- ed most deeply.” The boy bounded away, but met his mother the squire and Jessie, coming down to the inlet beach, and the meeting that followed, no pen can describe, That all was well, when the mystery was solved the next day, the reader can well imagine, and Duncan Dare won fame and fortune in the ears that followed, that made those who had n his accusers, glad to know him, and atone by their good deeds for their cruel suspicions of the past, upon the mother and her noble son, whose .pride and grief had made him a Boy Refugee. THE END. : . i ~% #4 ; NG a> a Ln? Mee Te ery yee =.