Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 498 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

SaaS shrunken and wasted, his hair gone, and his nose al- most eaten away, while his face and neck were swollen to abnormal proportions and thickly cov- ered with scaling bulbous excrescences. And the large hands clasped over the muzzle of the rifle also eloquently bespoke the ravages cf the dread disorder, for joints were missing from several of the long and strangely thick fingers. Until the sun had dipped behind the her’zon and the Serpents of Cimarron wer’ far away, the ghastly wretch stood, weak and trewbling, his blue | eyes, filled with an expression of keen regret, fixed steadily upon the pallid, bloodstained face of Per- dido Fernandez. Then the leper started and eagerly glided forward, only to halt and glare ahead. as if expecting each moment to note in the sport signs of returning ani- mation. And his expectations were realized; for, present- ly, a violent shudder ran through che form of Per- dido, who the next instant sprung half erect and glared savagely around A fervent exclamation escaped the tongue of Walking Death. Dashing the trickling blood from his eyes, the wounded = a7 clapped his hands upon the revol- vers in his belt. “Thet war a coward’s shot, Bravo Brice!’’ he gritted madly, the lurid glow in his dark eyes deep- ening. ‘“Cuss ye! whar aire ye?—sneaked off like a cowardly coyote? Ef ye want me dad, I am hyar, an’ game ter ther last!”’ ‘Peace, Perdido!’ cried Walking Death, in a voice soft and musical, strangely at variance with his external appearance, as he advanced a trifle. “* Bravo Brice and the Serpents of Cimarron have fled. We are alone upon the plain.” The handsome sport started as if shot. A strange, clearly perceptible shiver ran through his stalivart form, and his face grew yet whiter. ‘Great God! that voice!’ he ejaculated, his tones accentuated with sudden agony, and again dashing the mist of blood from his eyes, he stared at the leper. m Who aire ye man?’ he demanded hoarsely. ** Where «is the voice that recalls Carlotta Dane an’ ther dead past? Speak. wretch! or by heavens! I'll choke ther truth from yer throat!” And with a wolfish cry he flung himself straight at the prairie outcasc. CHAPTER I, THE SENTINEL OF THE PLAIN. Perprpo’s face expressed disagreeable surprise and fearful expectancy, as well as rage, as he sprung toward Walking Death, the Leper. * Back, Perdido Fernandez—back!" cried the out- cast, in warning tones, his voice wholly changea, as he retreated precipitately. ‘‘To approach or touch me is to bring upon yourself a fate ten thousand times more terrible than the grave, for lam Walk ing Death, the L«per!” ‘*Hal ye speak ther truth!’ excleimed the sport, abruptly halting, then drawing back in disgust. “Ll saw ye not, for the blood from this cussed wound hed blinded me! * But what do ye hyar—youw, whose haunts aire in ther mounta n fastnesses west ov Cimarron?” “What do ! hyar?” repeated the leper, a hollow mirthless Jaugh joining with the words. * Ask ye of the dead my mission, Perdido, for far more apt to tell ye are they than i. “Suffice it, that where go Bravo Brice and the Serpents of Cimarron. (/ere have I work to do,” ‘As hev I!” gritted tbe sport involuntarilv, the hammers “f his weapons half raising under a sudden ‘pressure of his thumbs. ‘And red work, too,” observed the leper, catching the other’s low spoken words. “ How know ye thet?’ Perdido demanded suspi- -ciously, * As I }now many things,”’ was the quick reply, * You are not what you seem, Perdido. You are nor a Cuban, nor were your curling locks and mustache always of the hue of the raven's wing, nor your skin of olive tint, for you are playing a dual part! The sport’s black eyes flashed dangerously, and this revolvers swept to a level. e demanded angrily: ‘“What mean ye, leper?” “Exactly what I say,” replied Walking Death, his hollow laugh again’ jarring forth unpleasaotly. * Back, Perdido, and put up your weapons; for, Ishmavlite though Il am, with my hand against every man, and the hands of all men against me, yet we two should be friends, for we are striving for & common purpose—vengeance against the Serpents of Cimarron!’ Mechanically, the dark sport returned his revolv- ers to his belt. “True—even as 4 pair ov trays an’ plenty of sand beats three aces 4N' & peir ov weak knees,”’ he muttered. The prairie outcast continued, “But hark ye, Percido—the very air ye breathe ‘is polluted with the stench of my dread disorder. ‘Take warning, and go!’ The sport nodded swift assent. ponning his som- rey and catchi up his Winchester, e vaulted into the saddle. Xs Yo're right; and I am Off, Walking Death—off ter ther Zold-camps ov southwestern Colorado, whar go Pravo Brice an’ bis road-agent band,” he said, *‘But before we part, thar aire one question I would ask, ‘*Who fired ther shot thet dropped me from ther 7 ] omen leper shuddered, and his eyes sought the ground. “Tt was I,” he admitted reluctantly. —_—_ sss stews rr Cactus Burr, the Ma _— CO EO A mocking fn, i escaped Perdido. ‘* And yet. ’we two sh'u’d be friends!”’ he sneered. ward a pace, his hands raised appeaiingly and his eyes glowing with a strange light, “ You wrong me, Perdido!’ be said, his faltering tones betraying emotion. ‘‘ You were directly be- tween me and the setting sun; in its glare my eyes deceived me into the belief that you were a foe. But that which caused the mistake also rendered my aim defective, so that you escaped with but a sealp-wound. “And my presence here doubtless saved your life, for when | left the cover of the grass Bravo Brice and his men turned and fled,” ‘P’rhaps I do owe ye somethin’—anyway, we'll let the matter pass.”’ muttered Perdido, ungra- ciously. * Ther Sarpents c’u’d ’a’ run me down, fer my mustang war jaded; true, some ov ther devils w'u’d ’a’ bin fixed fer ther last procession, but who w’u'd ’a’ mourned a'‘ter me? ' ‘* Yas. we’il call t' er matter a draw, leper, an’ I’ll be off, fer my camp to-night must be in yonder foot- hil's. So, now, adieu, an’ may yer future be hap- pier than yer past, Senor Wal king Death!” In the tones of the reckless sport was a tinge of bitter mrockery, “Farewell, Perdido, and may Juck attend you!” responded the outcast of the prairie, a scarcely no- ticeable tremor causing his musical tones to vi- brate, Doffing his sombrero, Perdido wheeled, and with a free use of the spur urged his jaded horse toward the distant hills at a furious gallop. Long and earnestly, with a look of intense pain in his dark eyes, the Natori wretch gazed after the rapidly receding horseman. ‘Handsome as ever, despite his complete dis- guise—handsome, but faithless, and as cold and cruel as the grave,” he muttered, turning away, as one in despair, as horse and rider vanished over the crest of a swellin the plain. ‘‘My God! must I longer endure this ceaseless agony? Each time our paths cross I grow weak, and waver in my purpose, Am I longer equal to the terrible task before me, or must I miserably fail? “Fail? No! no! I will be strong and enduring— will avenge My wrongs—vwv/l live and follow the trail to the bitter end, to wrest from the face of the Villain who woul rob me and mine of happiness and peace the mask of hypocrisy, exp-se his guilt and punish him for bis dark and deadly work!” Slowly at first, and low, in accents of bitterest despair, but with voice gradually rising until it rung through the gathering twilight of the prairie with the weird effect of a banshee’s wail, spoke the leper, his eyes filling with a strange and terrible glow, each fiber of his wasted form thrilling anew with life and a mad strength. And his horribly mutilated right hand was lifted to Heaven, asif to invoke the Divine Being to wit- ness the registration of a vow of vengeance! Fearful in its intensity, the wild outburst was of brief duration. With the abruptness of “one with a mind dis- eased,” the outcast lapsed into utter quietness. Darting piercing glances hither and thither across the darkening plain, he stood ogre-like for a mo- ment, then placed his fingers upon his lips and uttered a sharp whistle, : Scarcely had the shrill sound died away. when upon the grim silence broke the dull thud of a horse’s hoofs, and straight to the side of Walking Death galloped a powerful black steed, closely fol- lowed by two gaunt bloodhounds. * Aha! my dumb friends, you are here, prompt to do your master’s bidding, and faithful unto death!” he muttered, his voice womanly in its softness and tenderness, as he caressed the three animals in turn. | Only a moment was he silent, then again he spoke his tones taking on the acidity of a sharply -uttered command. ‘* Back, Pluto—back! Be off with you, and bring up Hydrusa and Hydrabad.”’ Whatever the significance of the words, the larger of the sagacious hounds seemed to understand, for With a low whine it crouched down, writhing as if under the lash, then suddenly wheeled and with its quivering muzzle close to the earth darted off along the back trail. ‘Now for the trail again, and vengeance!’ mut- tered Walking Death, as the gaunt brute shot be- youd sighs. Quickly leashing the remaining hound, the leper, with agility strangely at variance with his previous labored and painful movements, at a bound seated himself in the saddle. hen off over the plain he rode at a slow pace un- til the bloodhound had lifted the trail of the Ser- pents of Cimarron, then coursed swiftly to the east- be as if bent upon overtaking the road-agent For hours he spurred onward through the dark- ness. his deep-set eyes glowing strangely—onward, until the dead calm of midnight rested upon the plain, when with startling distinctness, in a hoarse voice, came the challenge: “* Halt! or ye’re buzzards’ bait!" “ Hallo—hallo!” ejaculated the leper, reining in with an abruptness that sent his horse back upon its haunches, “ “ho the deuce are yo, that stops me at this hour in the middle of the prairie?” “That hain’t ther FO goes a’ tall,’’ was the swiftly uttered response. t aire fer ye ter give an ac- count ov yerself; an’ don’t ver beat about ther ware nuther, fer lead aire pesky cheap ‘round hyar st now.” . “Oho! oho!" cried Wa*king Death, his voice sbril) bot eet etme ee ee a x ~~ PERF Greate, oe Ca. = . vie, neal a New st a i | and tantalizing, as he brought his knees sha a —LK— LL < ‘ = ' —_ Pans 7 al Y Vv y P = i a a —— ecomicbooks. com Fs ae > , « . ae - f 4 ae : + <= : 2" ~ a Ae * * - id Y 4 ‘sia sill « 4 4 Walking Death started as if stung, stepping for- | against the sides of his horse, causing the well- trained animal to sink down in the rank grass. “If you are so infernally anxious to find out just whoI am, come and see,”’ The bold challenge was accepted as promptly as given; for, with a jingle of spurs, the sentinel of the plain rode forward, looming up like a gigantic cen- taur ip the Cimmerian gloom. Crouching upon the back of his prostrate horse, his dark eyes glowing vividly, Walking Deuth raised his hand, moving ft slowly at first, but with ever- increasing swi'tness, in a circle above his head, pro- | ducing a sharp, sibilant hiss, Nearer rode the sentry, wholly unconscious of the nature of the peril in his path—nearer, until. when almost beside his crouching foe, the warning hiss reached his hearing, causing him to draw abrupt rein. With an eerie, blood-chilling screech, the leper sprung erect. At the same instant, bis right arm described a pea forward sweep, the next moment to be drawn swiftly back. A yell of terror welled up from the sentry’s lips, then died away ina hollow gurgle, as if smothered by the gripe of a giant hand upon his throttle, One fleeting second he sat bolt upright in the sad- die, quivering in every fiber, bis tongue protruding and his hands tearing desperately at his throat, then reeled and toppled head-first to the earth. CHAPTER UI. A GHASTLY FIND, HALTING, just as twil got merged into darkness. beside a narrow stream flowing through a secluded dell back in the foot-bills, Perdido Fernandez wearily flung bimself from the saddle and relieved his sadly- jaded mustang of his trappings. There was a peculiar expression on the face of the handsome sport as he lariated the animal cut to graze; and in the performance of his camp routine, e moved with the slow. methodical manner of one whose mind is fully preoccupied. At the head of the rock-walled glen, a natural basin of considerable depth bad formed in the chan- nelof the brawling stream, After a plunge into its eooling waters, Perdido dressed the scalp-wound made by the leper’s bullet, then filled and lit a pipe, and reclining at full length upon the poncho, gave himself up to meditation. His encounter with Walking Death was yet fresh in his mind, and as he recalled each detail of the strange meeting, he shifted and turned uneasily. “Jt is deuced singular that the phanton Pasi per- sists in rising up in connection with this affair,” le mused, balf-aloud, his voice freed toa great extent of the peculiar dialect of the plains, ‘ I: was pre- cisely fares years the fifth day of this month since ] heard the voice of sweet Carlotta Dane for the last time; and yet, to-day when Walking Death, the Leper, spoke, I could have sworn the tones were hers. “Oh! I have it—his voice was ihe intangible link between the past and the present, for at the time it pierced one tLrough and through, like tle thrust of a dull knife, tearing old wounds agape and crowding in upon my dazed brain a flood of bitter recollec- tions. ‘A strange, weird being is the leper, and were time less precious I would be tempted to hound bim down and wrest from him the grim secret of his life. The Serpents of Cimarron do well to hold him in super- stitious horrorand dread; for I suspect that he alone of living men knows the true significance of the crimson sig of that hand and the serpent, the mys- he peek of the insatiate destroyer of the road-agent nd, “But be he the unknown slayer—be be man or devil—1 owe him my life. Twice has he crossed my patb, rendering me a signal service each time, And yet, Lhate and loathe him as I would the Evil One.” And thus communing with himself, Perdido lay until his pipe was exhausted, then wrapped bimself in the folds of his poncho and with bis Winchester 5) a pillow quickly sunk into alight and dreamless sleep. The first streak of dawn had scarcely shot athwart the eastern horizon when he was again astir, his dark brow knitted inthought. Aftera second plunge into the basin, and a frugal meal from the contents of a small bag hanging to his saddle, he saw that his weapons were in good condition, mounted, and just at sunrise rode out of the foothills and across the plain toward the point at which he had enccuntered Walking Death, the Leper. Seeking the exact spot where the outcast of the prairies had stood during their brief parley. the sport dismounted and knelt to examine the hard earth. ‘The grass is trampled and broken, and that alone is left to show that he stood here,” he muttered, a moment Jater, springing to his feet and biting his lip in vexation, ‘By Heaven! loathsome as he is, he so_ vividly recalls certain events that I am temp'ed to the belief that Walking Death and Carlotta Dane are one and the same person !” The look mantling Perdido’s dark face as the above words hissed sharply through bis set teeth and rigid, lips was simply indescribable. ‘Ha! what is this?” he ejaculated the next mo- ment. ‘The marks of horses’ hoofs, sharp and clearly defined! Can it be that the Serpents have re- turned to wreak yengeance upon the outcast for rob- bing them of their prey? | t.is dusky face growing yet darker. his black oxne kinling with a fiery gleam, the sport, grasping his bridle rein with his l*ft hand, with his right whip- ped a revolver from his belt and darted a searebiug, suspicious glance over the parched expanse, then turned and with a muttered imprecation his gaze upon the trail.