Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 542 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

« « Oe side him with a force that brought the black horse back on his haunches. He was wildly ex- cited, and his raven eyes glowed like coals. ‘“* Hl cavallero, companero—el cavallero !” he cried, pointing back over his shoulder. ‘¢ Ti) cabbillaro—nar-ro—ill cabillaro!” snarl- ed Duncan, as choleric asever, ‘‘ Darn it! you know I dont understand your cussed talk. Speak English, man—what’s the matter? Spit it out!” ‘‘T'he horseman, comrade—he is yonder. There are a dozen more just like him. ‘“ What! wH—” ‘‘Back!” cried Pedro, wildly. ‘ Back to camp! Fly—get the others at once!” and he squirmed in his saddle like an eel. ‘* But—” ‘* Vamose!” and the gigantic form of the Spaniard towered above Duncan, as, with flash- ing eyes, glowing face and huge arm stretched forth toward the camp, bis voice rung out again: ** Vamose !” ‘‘ Bommos!” muttered Duncan, watching the Spaniard uneasily. ‘‘I know that—that says, ‘Go—leave!’ When he talks Spanish, he’s mad.” Wheeling the roan mustang, he darted away like the wind, bound for camp, while Pedro sat watching him. ‘*Bommos!” muttered Duncan, again and again. ‘‘That says, ‘ Leave!’ Gosh! how mad he is—never saw him so before. When he talks Spanish, something’s up.” , As the full moon brilliantly streamed its white light out over the mezas, Duncan was out upon the plains five miles from his destination, riding for dear life toward camp, The roan mustang was doing his best. ‘* Bommos!” he cried, in a sort of wild delight to the mustang; ‘* bommos!” CHAPTER V. A BALKED THROW. PEDRO watched Duncan until be was lost to view, then turned bis horse’s head toward the late rendezvous. All around him the various noises in the chaparral announced that day bad depart- ed. The steady, monotonous drone of nocturnal insects resouncded sleepily through the breeze- trembling foliage; an owl boldly hooted from an adjoining tree;,a coyote, yelping shrilly, slunk snuflfing along through the glade; andthe Southern lion—the ferocious jaguar—crept his supple length along, at intervals harshly scream- ing. Various rustlings in adjacent thickets be- trayed the flight of the shy rabbit, under the craving supervision of some gaunt wolf; but though Pedro noticed each and every scream and rustle, be had been bred in similar jungles, and heeded them not. With his right hand on his revolver, he still kept his steady pace, riding toward the tree, The white moon in the eastern sky glowed and shone with a splendor and radiance that north- ern latitudes cannot conceive of, making here a silvery, Sparkling aisle, here a rippling, shim- mering sea of foliage, and there a grotesque and gigantic shadow, sentinel-like, watching over some fairy glade : The stag, as he lightly trod the damp and springing turf, ever and anon pausing abruptly at some fantastic shadow, only to be reassured by a second glance, turned and fled as a moving object crossed bis vision; the figure, boldly out- lined in the brilliant moonlight, of a tall, slen- der rider on a chestnut horse, But Pedro saw neither stag nor horseman— that time was yet to arrive; but swinging along at a swift amble, passed out of the dense chapar- ral into the gleaming plain. Still shines the moon; yet waxes the night; ever the varying yet monotonous din in the jungle continues; and Pedro, warily watching, rode on toward the tree. The latter stood solitarv, ina plain covered with scattering sage-brush and grease-wood— now forming a diminutive but dense thicket— now only appearing at intervals, and cast by the moon into grotesque and fantastic shadows, gi- gantic in dimensions, : _ Rounding a small jungle, the Spaniard reined in and scanned the’ tree, now in uninterrupted view. It was deserted—under its branches no one was visible. He pondered for a moment, then strayed into a rambling soliloquy, idly tapping the stirrup-block with his toe. He spoke in a toneof disappointment, and in his native tongue: ; ‘He no longer is beneath the tree, but has gone—where, it is beyond me to tell, This mys- tery is gettlng thicker; who were the horsemen, and who were trailing them an hour ago?” The Canyon Pards. 5 He paused and reflected a moment, then con- | stant in which the brim of the sombrero was tinued, vagrantly rambling, in and out among the bushes, the black horse snatching a mouth- ful of shrubbery here and there. “What will my comrades say when I tell them the chaparral is occupied by more horse- men—desperate-looking fellows, armed to the teeth; that | counted a dozen sneaking after the strange cavallero—the Phantom Rider? Can it be that | have rivals in the chase? rivals whom it may be policy to avoid? Perhaps; I will con- ceal myself at least; it is foolish of. me to ride broadly in this open plain in such brilliant moonlight.” He was turning his horse’s head to ride into a neighboring chaparral a few yards distant, The act was not performed; for, as he was near- ing the shelter, the bushes swayed, rustled, parted; and a horse and rider came slowly out, riding toward him. It was the tall man with the hanging head, riding the listless chestnut steed. The horse of the Spaniard, though bold and courageous, was suddenly seized with unaccount- able fright, besides the start he gave at the sud- den appearance of the horseman; and wheeling suddenly, turned tail and darted away. He did not run far with his rider, for the lat- ter braced himself in his stirrups and pulled hard on the bridle-rein, Under the strong check, the horse soon yielded, and his rider, gathering him up, shook him down once or twice, and soon collected bis senses, There are probably only three races in the world which fully understand the horse and the manner of managing him: the Arabs, Moors, and Spaniards. This Spaniard was a rider among riders, excelling in the skill and grace of his equitation, asin the knowledge of the dis- position of horses; and quieted by his magnetic influence, the horse soon recovered his cour- age. It was the first time he had ever run away. Though surprised at the extraordinary alarm of his horse, Pedro stopped not to inquire into it; but turned round and again faced the Phan- tom Horseman. The latter was motionless, where he had emerged. Still his head hung down, his body was erect, and the lean, skinny hand clasped the loose bridle-rein; be was unchanged. As on the summit, the horse had drawn himself up, and was standing with drooping head, but stead- ily regarded the Spaniard’s movements with pricked-up ears, lt is momentarily startling to meet at night, in a wild country, a man, unexpectedly; but when that man has been repeatedly shot at, always struck, and betrays no sign of injury, the feeling grows into one of alarm and positive superstition. Hor the moment, such feelings Pedro felt, as he paused at the silent rider, who, with shrouded face, seemed to be steadily regarding him. He was face to face with the object he was seeking: the Phantom Horseman, His alarm, however, was momentary, and quickly dissipated. Drawing his bridle-rein a trifle more taut, he gently pressed the black horse with his steel spur. The high-spirited animal,.as if ashamed of his late timidity, in- stantly obeyed the signal, and in his habitual rapid walk approached the motionless form in front, while his master loosened his lasso from its loggerhead. But now the demeanor of the chestnut horse underwent a change, Asif animated by a sud- den impulse, he started into an erect position and stamped impatiently. Tossing bis head, with rapidly moving ears, he keenly watched the coming Spaniard, who being now within fifty yards, prepared to throw his lasso, What was the matter with the chestnut horse, generally so listless and heavy? Was he Spanish bred? Was the experience of former captures warning him to beware of that slender coil in the Spaniard’s hands? An American steed would have noticed noth- ing wrong in the loosening of that coiled line depending from the saddle-horn: but a Spanish horse would have instantly fled, knowing to re- main was to be captured, The horse,” however, kept his position, but ‘“‘ whighered” uneasily. Pedro still advanced, talking to himself; ‘‘ That borse is flesh and blood, whatever may be the rider. He is uneasy—perhaps he has been lass’d before. But no—it can’t be: he is pure American—there is no Spanish stock in him,” His muttering suddenly ceased as a stiff breeze swept through the chaparral, lifting the flap of the glazed sombrero on the bowed head in front, Pedro drew rein, sharply. In the in- yressed against the crown by the breeze, Pedro 1ad a full view of the features, Now they were changed, he knew from Dun- can’s graphic description. The dark, skinny lips were now parted in a derisive, horrible smile, disclosing a set of teeth as white and fanglike as those of a wolf, and which glittered brightly in the gleaming moonlight. Instead of vacant, glassy eyes, Pedro was now quailing beneath the stern stare of a pair of orbs that flashed and scintillated like those of an enraged serpent, and were bent fully upon him, The features, malevolent before, now wore a fiendish scowl; a dark, devilish frown that gave the entire face the expression of a_ thwarted archb-demon. The wrinkled brow; the sunken cheeks; the horribly-curling lips, all gleamed in the moonlight with a hightened ferocity, and Pedro sbuddered as he gazed upon the face, He stared as if fascinated—it was the first view he bad had of the face. Across his swarthy cheeks he felt the blood come and go while the hereditary legends and traditions o centuries througed in bis brains. Old nurses’ stories of demons and goblins; hideous nar- ratives of midnight assassinations in lonely un- frequented places; recollections of ccemrades’ experiences—all these were but trifles to the sense of facing to-night, alone, in this wild jungle, the shadow of a specter. Ha! he started back in his saddle. Was not that a movement of the lean hand on the saddle- horn—did not the hideous, horrid head move just then? No; it was only the night wind playing through the straight black hair—the tightening of the bridle-rein as the chestnut steed turned to depart. As the quiet form passed by Pedro on the now slowly-trotting chestnut horse, the brim of the glazed sombrero again lifted, disclosing the face. Now the moon shone broadly upon it revealing every lineament and deep seam; anc Pedro, for the instant, covered his face with his band to shut out the sight, ‘* Mother of God, what a horrible face!” he whispered, under his breath, ‘‘ What a terrible sco wi] if When he looked up, the horse and rider were gliding through the bushes, retreating slowly. Somewhat relieved by the innocuous departure, the Spaniard watched them uneasily. sif en- tirely regardless of his presence, neither horse nor rider turned bis bead; but receding toward the hill, they were passing away. He remembered bis vow to Duncan, and his raven eye gleamed, ‘‘Coward that I am!” he cried, recklessly, in a loud voice. ‘** Now,” and be waved bis hand menacingly toward the retreating figure, ‘* be you man, ghost, or devil, Pll bave you if arm is able to cast the riata. Ho!” he shouted, in stentorian tones, and spurring his horse, ‘‘ come my horse! show your breeding—ho! for tbe riata!” The noble animal dashed forward in a sweep- ing’ gallop, and in a few vigorous leaps was within casting distance. The chestnut borse turned his head, then broke into a gallop. ‘**'You shall not escape this time!” muttered Pedro, working bimself into a passion, Then he seized bis riata in his right hand, and whirl- ed it over his head, At this motion, well understood by the horse the latter darted suddenly toward the intended capture, watching the whirling line over his head. When the coil left bis master’s hand he would halt suddenly. and wheeling, brace him- self for the shock. Such is the breeding of the Spanish horse, But this time he did not execute the maneuver; for, as the riata was on the eve of departure in its spiral length, a sbarp report rung out from an adjoining thicket, and a bullet whistled by Pedro's head. . At the sound, so utterly unexpected, the black horse halted sbort in alarm, although accustomed to firearms. Pedro glanced sharply about him, still] holding bis unthrown lasso, A white smoke arose from a thicket just in front. Pedro, staring sharply at it, suddenly observed the Phantom Horseman had entirely disappeared. He was not in sight. The Spaniard did not care to expose himself to another shot, and hastily wheeled. With an oath of disappointment ‘and amazement he dropped the coiled riata over the saddle-horn, and struck spurs to his horse. ** Oaraja !” Dashing out from the hill, dodging the bushes, riding like the wind, went Pedro, bound for camp. ** Caramba |” JNA : ~ saat _ ’ re elerey <s ~o ™ ™ me DA ee