Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 570 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

ee ee me ee. “T am capable of better things; the world owes mea living, aud I shall draw on demand for it,” be said to himself, when he awoke one mornii. to find that his horse, saddle and bridle and weapons were all that he had in the world, the mining-camp was dull and he determined to sepk Hew svenes, and new associations, Arliving at tue stage statiou, he bad disposed of tis horse, fora gocd sum, and with a couple (‘f huvdred dojlars was going to take the first «cv vach further east, He cared not where it took him, He was adrift and so would go with the tide: but he vowed to give up dissipation and become a different man. wrong, “If. Fate goes against me, gold I must have at any risk.” Such he made his creed, and while calmly awaiting the coming of the stage-coach, he was planning for the future. Work he would not, but by other means, fair or foul, As he sat there, he appeared a man to admire and respect, His form was tall, broad-shouldered, graceful, yet athletic, and he was dressed in a handsome hunting costume, with top-boots and slouch hat. He wore his belt of arms like a man who knew their use, and his face showed the courage to use them. ’ His manners were almost lazy, his face pecu- liarly handsome, for it was that of a man who might do only the noblest deeds under some cir- cumstances, and become as wicked as Sa‘an under others. His eyes were fascinating in their gentle ex- pression, full of a brooding sadness, and yet they could light up witha fiend-like fury when aroused, Since his flight from the college. he had drift- ed aimlessly about, living on the best, drinking hard and taking life as it came to him, until he had suddenly awakened to a realization of the fact that be was throwing his life away, Presently in the distance were heard the notes of a bugle, and it told that the stage-coach was coming, Not long after the coach dashed into view, coming along at a swirring pace, and with the six horses unurged by the driver, for they knew Test was at hand, The coach stopped before the station, and Doc Dunning the driver, threw the reins upon the backs of his horses, while he dismounted with the air ofa man who felt bis importance, and no un- important thing was it to bea stage-driver in those days on the Overland. ‘Well, Doc, you is on time, “Ary pilgrims?” asked Bentley, the station Boss, as Doc Dunning approacbed him. Waal I has one, and it’s as pretty a gal as runs in these parts, “She’s a-going West to find her father, she says, ‘*Pli tell her to s’pose it’s ready,” “Yas, jit off the fire,” and Bentley and Doc Dunning approached the coach and threw open the door. ‘* Come, Miss Pretty Face, of ther name, you gits grub Sail along ag’in. ‘* This are Bill pens the station boss, miss, and he’ll see that yer fills up, for he’s got a good table, ef he don’t put on style,” “T thank’ you, sir,” and with girl sprung out of the coach, er form was perfection, her face beautiful, innocent jooking and yet full of marked char. acter, She tripped lightly into the log stage-station Fate serves me well, I will do no he would make gold go in and get supper, for I for you is desarvin’ here, and then we’ll this a young aud as she passed Kent DEIOE ss who st near the door, their eyes met and he raised his at She knew the custom of the country, aya bowed in return, while she seemed surprised at meeting there a person such as he appeared, — ,v ho's. yer pard, Ben?” asked Doc Dunning with & nod toward ingdon, ‘ Some pilgrim as come down from the min- ing-camps, sold me his horse and outfit, and O35 along in your hearse somewhar, ther Lord only knows, ‘* Chipper, hain’t he?” ‘* He looks like a good one, he does, Ae he fingers the pasteboards from his ooks.’ ‘*Maybe,” and the two went into supper, Kingdon going. ) Half an, hour after, with a fresh team the Camille, the Card Queen. Se t coach rolled away, Kingdon taking a seat in- box as Doc Dunning in- side, instead of on the vited him to do, ‘*T am tired and need rest,” he said, ‘* He’s struck with the gal, I guesses; but I’il ” Doc Dunning had whispered stand no nonsense, to Ben Bentley, The sun was yet a couple of hours bright and the run to the next station was a long one, and over a terrible road even by day, Then too there were road-agents along that part of the Overland who frequently * held up” the stage when there was a considerable amount of gold or booty to be obtained by so doing. Kingdon had thrown himself upon the front seat, as though not to annoy his companion, and the two rode on in silence together, But often did the man find the eyes of the girl cast upon him with furtive glances, Still he made no effort to enter into conversa- | tion, and she was the first to speak, for sudden- ly she burst forth with an expression of admir- ation, as her eyes fell upona grand view that suddenly was visible from the stage window. ‘‘How grandly beautiful!” she cried, more to | herself than her companion. Kent Kingdon glanced out of the window and as he did so, there came in a stern voice: ‘Halt your old hearse. Doc Dunning, for there’s gold aboard I want!” ’ There came a shot from the box, a yell at the | horses, and. the animals sprung forward at a | Leaning out of the window Kinedon saw two men endeavoring to stop the horses, there were shots fired, and he too opened fire with his re- volvers, CHAPTER IV, A NEMESIS ON THE TRAIN. THERE was no doubt but that the two men whom Kent Kingdon fired upon went down for he saw them fall, and he knew that bis aim was true, Doc Dunning had fired the first shot, and had wounded the man who had called to him to stand and deliver, foran exclamation of com- eaing ied rage and pain had broken from his ips, In return he had been shot by one of the half dozen road-agents visible. Glancing up at the box, as the horses went flying madly along, Kent Kingdon saw that Doc Dunning was either dead or badly wounded and that the team was under no control. A look toward his fair fellow passenger snowed him that she had swooned away. He knew well their danger, with that run- away team along that mountain trail, and be mackie drew himself out of the coach window up tothe box, and no easy matter was it, with the vehicle swaying wildly as the horses sped along at full speed. _ Doe Dunning lay in a heap, conscious, but badly wounded, * Dn done for, pard, and we'll all go together onless you kin pull ’em up afore we reach tber Devil’s Leap,” he groaned. ‘“*T think I can inanage them,” was the calm reply, and he took the reins from the hand of the brave driver, who still ciutched them in bis weakening grasp, ‘Stop ’em, pard, ef you knows how, afore we reaches ther Devil’s Leap, or we all goes ter glory tergether,” moaned Doc Dunning. As he saw that Kingdon gathered up thereins coolly, and with the air of one who snew how to drive, he seemed relieved, and muttered: ‘‘Yer saves your life, and the pretty gal’s too; buf I’m done for, ‘‘That’s a bad road ahead o’ Silver Run Station, and you must go slow. ‘*Thars a bag o’ gold in ther boot bere and it b’longs to ther company, so jist give it to ther next driver, Sam Leslie, when you gits to ther station, and tell him it goes through to Flush City, and—~—and—” _ The man uttered a groan and ceased speak- ing. When Kingdon again glanced down at him he was dead, Kent Kingdon uttered no word, but drove on, rounding Devil's Leap without accident, having gotten the borses under perfect control, Then he drew rein, for he felt that the road- agente had been too much worsted to follow, ‘He dismounted from the box and Opened the door. heap upon the floor, you, pard, to s he young girl lay in a ant she was ved | 5 a Swoon, , ingdon st or a moment in silent medi- tation, his face flusbing and paling by turns. _ Then he uttered the words , dangerous in the extreme | bung to the side ot t) ** By Heaven, but I will!” Springing up to the box he reached in to the boot and soon drew forth a long bag, the end sealed with sealing-wax, It was heavy, and was the gold-bag. | Descending to the ground again he ran with | it into the woods and was absent for a few min- | utes there, | Then be returned, and taking a tin-cup which 1e coach he filled it with | Water from a rivulet that tumbled over the | mountain and approaching the coach bathed the | face of the unconscious girl, | dt was some time before she came began to fear thAt she was dead. ‘ But at last she rallied, gazed into ‘his face, and cried earnestly: | ‘** Ah, sir, what hag ha ‘Are you burt, miss tone, * No, sir, Iam not burt: ened, for I to, and he ppened?” ” be asked, in a kindly | but I am so fright- | thought they killed the driver and | the borses were running away over this fearful | road,” | ‘*They did kill the poor driver, miss, and | robbed the coach-of a bag of gold, | ‘Then L opened fire on them, the horses ran | away and I had to get out upon the box to stop | them, so you are in no danger now,” |. ** You are so brave, sir, so kind, and I owe my | life to you,” she said, earnestly. | “*I but did my duty, miss. | “* But we must be on our way, so make your- | self comfortable, while I mount the box and | drive on.” | “Can I not aot on the box with you, sir, for | night is coming on and I fear to be alone?” “If you wish; but let me just remove the body of poor Dunning.” She shuddered, and he gct upon the box and secured the body of the dead driver, placing it inside the stage. This done, be belped the young girluptoa seat on the box, and seizing the reins drove on at a rapid pace, She watched his skillful handling of the reins, and said: ‘* You are a wonderful driver, sir.” ‘* T have driven since I was a child.” ** Do you live West, sir?” ‘““My home has been in Texas, miss; but I have come West to seek my fortune,” ‘‘And I live East,and have come West to seek my father, who is a miner somewhere near Flush city, or Sports’ Paradise, as I believe it is also called, I bave no one to care for meat home, and having just finished boarding-school, came out here to join papa, who has ‘struck it rich’? as he calls it, but he does not know of my coming.” ‘ This is a hard country, miss, for such as you are to come to, ‘*T will gladly do all in my power for you, ag Iam going to Sports’ Paradise myself, ‘** My name is Donald King, miss,” ‘‘ And my name is Isabel Drew, and I hope we will be friends, for I owe much to you, sir, more than I can ever repay,” and the tears came into the beautiful — Ata slow pace the sta darkness, for Kingdon w he bad never been over t The young lad delighted at the ge held on through the ell knew the danger, as be road, Y, unused to such scenes, was 16 romance of the sitvation, and she oy te his splendid driving, while, having killed two of the road-agents and checked the runaway team as he ha hero, It was after midnight when the coach reached the station, and the agent was growing anxious, In a few words Kingdon told bis story, one to suit himself: ** We were held-up a couple of miles beyond Devil's Leap, and by half a dozen road-knights. ‘** Doc Dunning, your driver, fired upon them, very foolishly 1 thought, and was at once shot in return, and a sprung upon,.the box and seized what appeared to me to be a bag of gold. ‘*T fired then_and killed two men, the horses ran away, and I had to get upon the box as they ran, and check them, for I was inside. **Doe Dunning was alive, but dying, and he told me to stop them befcre reaching Devil’s ms : *T did so, and wh dead, “The youn trouble in bri , Kingdon became her en we got there he was g lady had fainted, and I had uging her to, and then she came in upon the box with me, and here we are.” “Your name, stranger, for I wishes to know & man as has the grit you showed,” said the mers . d Kin dlI ing y name is Donal g, and 1 am going to Flush City to settle.”