Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 47 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

1O selves in the river, each succeeding one announc- ing the progress of the fiends in the cut. ‘At last a scarlet figure bounded over the great bowlder which tried to block the mouth of the ravine, and landed full in the moonlight. Shadow-Shot saw his tuft of eagle feathers, the fiendish face, and the banded arms. “Tf this old gun doesn’t miss, my bird o’ prey!” quoted hadow -Shot, raising the rifle quickly to hisshoulder. ‘‘ An’ miss it never does, by hokey!” Quick as was his glance down the long barrel to the Sioux’s breast, his finger was not quick enough for the bolt of death which leaped from a rifle overhead. The report startled the ranger; he lowered his own rifle and looked up, blank astonishment depicted on his countenance. he Indian lay in the big bowlder, a lifeless mass of humanity. ‘‘ Flints and triggers!” ejaculated the ranger. “Who fired thet shot? It warn’t the boy, fur he hasn’t had time to get up thar. It’s uncom- mon strange; but it has stopped the devils in the cut. No! they’re comin’ ag’in!” Another rock shot over the bowlder and splashed into the water, and several sprung into the moonlight. Shadow-Shot raised his rifle again; but that mysterious marksman overhead forestalled him in the work of death, and another Vulture—this paar a white man—staggered against the rocks to die! Astounded more than ever, the ranger cast his eyes upward, but saw nothing but a an smoke, white and wavy, against the deep ue. ‘* Here! you fiends, if you don’t go back to your horses, thar’ll not be one of you left to report!” came a voice from the position of the slayer. ‘* By the etarnal! Pll drop another in less than a minit, just to show you how it’s done.” The Vultures started back with eyes starin -_ the rocks overhead, and faces blanched wit ear. Death seemed to be enthroned among them for his fatal thunderbolts had been hurled amid their ranks. ““Arn’t you goin’?’ came the same rough voice after a minute of waiting. ‘‘Tll give you a minit to make yourselves scarce in. Not that I want to kill ye mgr od ree but I don’t like to handle a weepon that hits all the time.” There was a grim sense of humor in the un- seen man which made Shadow-Shot smile, and he wondered anew who the marksman was, That last threat, coupled to the grace of one brief minute, had the desired effect; the Vul- tures retreated into the cut, but halted there. ““Go up!” cried the unseen. ‘“‘ When I say leave, [mean fur ye to git out of the reach of this gun, an’ it carries a bullet an oncommon ways. I kin shoot clean up the cut. Bless me if I can’t shoot right around a tree with this old weepon. Git out! my birds!” the cut scrambled the discomfited and cursing Vultures. The man who had caused the retreat of the trio was a deadly mystery to them, The min- utes that elapsed during the flightup the cut seemed burdened with death, but the mysteri- ous slayer was merciful, and no bullet spun on its mission of doom. The most bewildered man was our friend Shadow-Shot. The voice of the slayer was to- tally strange to him. It was the voice of a man uncouth and unlearned like himself, the kind of an ally for whom he had often wished. His heart went out to the unknown, and be- fore the Vultures had regained their horses, his gaunt figure was pushing its way up the rocks to the _ whence the voice had emanated. Waiting for him, for Shadow-Shot’s progress was made known by noises which it occasioned, © man was crouched between two ragged rocks. ‘here was nothing in the stranger’s appearance that might be startling. He was a heavy-set man with piercing gray eyes deeply set in his head, and an open face covered wy a reddish b> of a fortnight’s growth. is by pl were good and totally unlike the half-savage garb that covered Shadow-Shot’s lank figure. All at once he poked his head over the stones and fixed his gaze on the ranger who stopped with an ejaculation of surprise. ‘IT heerd you comin’, stranger,” the dead- shot said, thrusting a hand over his breast- work. “Bless me! if you ain’t the man what v us warnin’ several nights ago. Put her thar! Thar ’re two Vultures down yonder. How many did you kill in the woods?” “Three, I think.” ‘*Three an’ two ar’ five, an’ the fellar what my bullet ran ag’in’ not long since makes a good a — — — — — ————————————— ———— ec half dozen. Say! I kind o’ like ye: that’s me, Jack Gustin, one of Captain Rough’s men.” Shadow-Shot took the proffered hand and shook it warmly. ‘** You kin shoot like lightnin’,” he said, look- ing into Gustin’s eyes. ‘I arnt the art in Dlinoy. Used to pick wild- cats an’ wolverines at nignt in jest sech places = this. Say, stranger, it’s all up with the There was emotion and sadness in the rough voice. ** What boys?’ “The train boys! Them Vultures followed an’ butchered all. Not a wagon will ever roll along the rocks of Lake Superior. I hev jest come from the scene of massacre. The boys ar’ all ‘thar but Cap’n Rough.” ‘* He is with the Vultures!” said Shadow-Shot. ‘‘J’ined ‘em? Water will seek its level. The scamp has found his sphare at last. But whar’s the boy?’ **Oh, the boy—and the gal!” cried the ranger suddenly recollecting the youthful couple whom he had dismissed for a while a short time be- fore. ‘‘ Flints an’ triggers! if I warn’t furget- tin’’em. Come, Jack! we'll go to the leetle ones, an’ try to get ’em out of these parts.” The two men left the spot and made their way below. As all sounds of the Vultures had died away it was evident that they had departed satisfied with the blood shed by their adversaries. But, as Shadow-Shot remarked to his companion, they would not sire up their quest until more lives had been taken. Over at the foot of the cliffs the two men hurried down the stream. They were eager to reach the young fugitives; but many rods of ground were traversed without finding them. ‘Whar can they be?’ asked the long ranger, pausing and giving Gustin a puzzled look. “I told ’em not to gotoo fur. It ar’ gittin’ interes- tin’, Jack. I’m kind o’ feerful like!” Gustin looked around before he attempted to reply. Hie saw the moonlight on the water far down the ravine; he noticed great dark walls above him, but no signs of Nightingale Nat and Violet were seen. ‘** Curious!” he ejaculated. ** No! it isn’t curious! J’ve got the two birds in my power, an’ I’m goin’ to throw ’em squar’ down to you! Look out!” If a thunderbolt had burst in the faces of the rangers, they would not have started back less horrified. ‘**Great Ceesar’s ghost!” cried Shadow-Shot, staring upward. “ In the name of creation, who are ye?” _The question was answered at his side by Gus- in. “Tt is Zimri Paddock!” Then he sprung forward. ** Hold, Zimri!” he shouted, ‘‘ I am here—Jack Gustin!” “Oh, that doesn’t mend the matter, Jack,” was the reply. ‘‘I’ll throw the boy down first. Hold still, my little nightingale; you won’t be a minit fallin’!” The last brutal words were distinctly heard by the horrified rangers below. ‘**Catch the boy if he comes!” Gustin said quickly, to Shadow-Shot, and the next moment he sprung to the ascent of the cliff. Shadow: Shot dropped his gun and planted himself firmly as a statue at the edge of, the moonlight. CHAPTER XII. PADDOCK’S DESCENT. THE scene above the bed of the stream, or, to be precise, fifty feet above Shadow-Shot and his new-found all , was quite exciting. The causes that led to it were simply these: Obedient to the ranger’s command, as we have seen, Nightingale Nat and Violet left him to guard the retreat, and hastened along the stony bank of the forest river. Not far away an individual who stood alone had been startled by the sudden shot fired with fatal effect by the girl-avenger upon recognizing Noel Gordon in his true role at the head of the Vultures. Following that shot, came the other reports before which two more outlaws bit the dust. ae Shepton him beyond description, and he was about to leave his station for the purpose of inquiring into the reports, when voices rapid- ly approaching saluted his ears. He changed his purpose, and, with a pistol in each hand, threw his paze up the stream. wane toward him came the youthful ain. “The Nightingale, by my life!” he exclaim- as his eyes dilated with astonishment. ‘Now, my singin’-bird, [ll clip your feathers an’ those, too, of the pretty mate you’ve foun somewhar in these woods. She’s the creature who untied you from the tree. Well, it will be her last untyin’—her very last!” All at once the young fugitives were startled to see a figure spring from the shadows of the ragged rocks and plant itself firmly in their path. | ‘““Not a trigger, my birds!” said the man, coarsely. ‘‘I kin shoot with both hands at once. Zim Paddock used to do thet fur amusement, you know, boy.” Nat recognized his old tormentor at a glance. Shadow-Shot was up the stream facing the Vultures. Where was help to come from? They were in the hands of the uncultured rough—Captain Rough’s tool. - At his command, which was accompanied by a terrible threat, the twain threw their weapons aside. His eyes told that disobedience might be followed by death. ** Now, for’ard march!” That command was also obeyed. At awide path to the cliffs above—a path whose sides and bottom were brilliantly reveal- ed by the light of the moon—the villain halted with his prisoners, and they. began to climb up. Close behind, with his pistols, moved Zimri Paddock, the very devilishness of savage glee in his evil eye. Biting his lip and biding his time, the boy of the train toiled slowly up the path with the girl’s hand in his. They heard the shots of the mysterious slayer which played such deadly havoc with the pursu- ing outlaws, and thought that they came from Shadow-Shot’s rifle. Zimri Paddock heard them, too, and was puz- ed. ’ At the top of the cliff he halted and listened. The cheng of the two Fenges was soon heard, and from that spot he startled them with the terrible threat recorded at the close of the foregoing chapter. Violet, unarmed, stood a short distance from the brute, who held Nat in a gripe of iron. She was powerless to help, and, of himself, the boy could do nothing in the hands of a strong man whose passion was aided by his prodigious nee **No! you'll not be long fallin’!” he repeated paring, into the youth’s face, and then he called oud: ‘‘ Stan’ from under down thar, Jack Gustin!” The man knew that his position in the shadows concealed his person from the eyes of the twain below. But Gustin did not reply; he was half way u the rocks, still climbing on, knife in mouth, an rifle slung across his back by means of a buck- ae Whe ‘h to nightingale?” said ; at hev ye say, my e Paddock, suddenly. . ‘Nothing, Zimri; you will pay for this night’s work. That’s all!” ‘Well, it warn’t much, boy,” was the rejoin- der, followed by a coarse wy ve He stepped back with the heartless cachinna- tion on his lips. ‘‘ Now, my singer!” he hissed. By main ning oy he forced the boy from the ground. Over the outlaw’s head he went. Another moment, with his victim, Zimri Paddock was at the very brink of. the preci- pice. : A cry which, for the triumph of fiendishness it contained, was enough to strike a chill to the bravest heart, pealed from his throat. It made Shadow-Shot brace himself. He knew what was coming. While yet that cry echoed in forest and over stream, another different, but piercing all the same, was heard, and a human body went hurt- he the cliff! adow-Shot saw the object shoot from the shadow, and like a great shell come spinning toward him through the moo dmiv6: ste For an instant he prepared to catch it in his strong embrace; but with a ery of horror he leaped aside, and the mass fell heavily on the jagged rocks at his feet! ‘T thought it war too big a body fur the lee- tle one!” ‘hs said, ap roaching the quivering mass which preserved the outlines of the human form. He bent over the man, and saw the pallid, deathlike face of Zimri Paddock. “Somebody turned the tables up thar, eh?’ said Shadow-Shot, seeing the wandering eyes become fixed upon him. ‘‘ You shouldn’t hev waited till Jack got up.” GComicbooks.com