Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 570 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

containing a good supply of gold. while Kingdon presented the station Camille, the Card Queen, —_- —-— ‘* So he writ the letter to his darter and I have | handsome man who had proven himself “ a ter- it here, and will fetch her back with me.” ror,” as he was called. ‘And his name was David Drew?” asked Kent | Curley Kit, a fine-looking young driver of the Kingdon. Overland, was told by the stage boss to take the of ” as. lace of Doc Dunning, and the coach started on Kingdon remembered that Isabel Drew had | its return to Sports’ Paradise with Kent King- told him that such was her father’s name, don on the box with him. He was a miner, had written her that he was As they passed the scene of the two tragedies, doing well, and had given her every advantage Kingdon pointed them out to Curley Kit, and of education, sparing no money to make her an | at the request of the young driver, related the accomplished woman. story of the road-agents’ attack near Devil’s His writing that he'was in good health and | Leap, and of the pretended holding-up of the having completed her school days, had caused | coach by the miner. her to determine to seek him in the border wilds, Without adventure the coach reached Sports’ and she had boldly made the venture, Paradise, and the miners of that wild town gave Such was the situation of affairs that caused | Kingdon a grand welcome. Kent Kingdon to feel that the man the miner There was something in the calm dignity of referred to wasnone other than Isabel Drew’s | the man, his conscious P itil that won their father. respect, while he was dreaded from the first He drove on in silence for some little time | as one whom it would be safe not to meddle while the loquacious miner talked on. with. r He did not see the cold, cruel expression com- | Judge Dal greeted him warmly, and told him ‘ing over the face of the man who so skillfully | that he had given leabel Drew the use of a horse ‘sent the six horsesalong the mountain trail. to ride, while she could go from one end\of the At last Kingdon asked: valley camps to the other and meet with only ‘* Have you the letter with you pard?” the greatest respect. ‘Oh yes, and, in case of accidents, for life is | ‘She has told me, Pard King, that she canie oncert’in, Lhas the maps of the way to reach | out here to look up her father, and, as you the cabin whar Dave Drew and me hangs out, | area stranger in these parts, [ll make inquiries so the gal could get a guide to take her there, | about him.’ should [ slip out, and a copy was sent to the lawyers also,” ‘*I see; but have you no near neighbors?” **None; we is in a canyou whar no one crowds us, and we doesu’t want ter be.” ‘*T suppose you have struck it rich also?” ‘Waal, I has a paying lead, but I hopes to fiad it pan out big. You see, Dave Drew was a-workin’ his mine long afore I met him, and one day he come down to the camps to git food and some o’ the boys sot onto him, and I helped him out o’ ther scrape. So I ya lighted out with him for his ranch and we has been pards ‘**No need of it, judge, for to-morrow I shall myself begin the search of all the camps, and if he is among them I will find him,” was the reply. Ny ell, you know best, Pard King, and she’s in your charge,” was the reply of the Jandlord of the Flu<h Hotel, calling Kingdon by bis as- sumed name of Donald King. Arranging his attire with great care, King- don then sought Isabel Drew, who had just come in from a ride among the camps, and told her that he had met an old miner who gave him an idea of where her father could be found, as there was a person of that name living far up in the mountains, ‘I will go there to-morrow on horseback, Miss Drew, and should it prove to be your father will bring him back with me.” ever since,” Kingdon made no immediate reply; but com- vin on an ugly piece of road he drew rein and **Pard, may Task you to check up that mid- die horse for me as I’m a little lame and can't} ‘‘ You are so kind, Mr. King, and Ido not dismount easily?” know how to thank you; but are you not losing ‘You bet I will,” and the miner clambered | your time in helping me?” down to the ground and approached the horse ‘Ob no, for my time is my own, and I am referred to, prospecting here in this son nea to discover if I His hand was upon the check-rein, when there can ind a paying mine to purchase,” came a sharp report, and with a groan the ** You think that I had better not accompany miner sunk in his tracks. you?” The horses were startled by the report, but | ‘* By no means, as the country is dangerous they were quickly reined in by Kingdon, who | and you would find no accommodations off of soon quie them down, and sprung from the | the stage line and away from Sports’ Paradise.” box with no show of being lame, ‘I leave all to.you, Mr, King, and again I He at once approached the miner, and saw | thank you,” and Isabel Drew held out her hand that the bullet had cut its way into his head. to the man’ who was plotting then in his evil The man was stone dead, heart against her. Quickly the cruc’, man examined his victim’s |; The next day, mounted upon a splendid horse, clothes, and drew f1»m his pockets a letter and | and thoroughly armed, Kent Kingdon set out ‘bundle of papers. upon his search for the lonely cabin of Dave Under his belt of arms was a buckskin belt | Drew. The map which he had gave him an idea of the locality where the cabin was situated, and so he went directly to the point where he bad met the old miner. * He reached the spot where he had shot the miner, and passed the scene with no show that bitter memories of his cruel act were crowding upon him. Turning into the mountains from off the Over- land Trail, he went on until he came toa good camping-place, eee sun ~ 4 an ey high, when he 9 s horse out on the nks of a swiftly running CHAPTER VII, arent and selected a spot for his bed for the NER'S L sal shgelt ; See et ae aving gathered a pile of wood, spread his Wuen Kent Kingdon arrived at the stage blankets and lighted hi This Kingdon buckled about his own waist, and drawing one of the revolvers of the dead man, aimed two shots at the coach and fired, Then he placed the letter and papers in his pocket, put the dead man in the coach, and mounting the box once more, drove on at a swift pace, : He had developed into a common murderer, pn had determined to play a bold game for gold, a is fire, he sat down and Station he had a tale to tell, and one which gave | took from his pocket the map and letter which him extra fame as a hero. he had robbed tbe miner of. A highwayman had suddenly appeared on the | ‘‘I am about twenty miles, as I figure it out, trail, he said, and fired upon him. from Drew’s cabin,” he said to himself, as he There were two bullet-marks upon the coach | studied out the locality on the map. to prove that the shots had come dangerously ‘* Now to see what this letter says,” hear the handsome driver. The letter he took from his pocket was in aq hen there was the body of tbe trail robber to | ‘‘ home-made” envelope, manufactured out of a pnt that Kent Kingdon’s return fire had been | sheet of foolscap paper and sealed with flour eadty, paste, There was no one at the station who knew the It was-addressed ina hand that appeared to alleged robber, an@ so he was quickty buried,'| be tremulous, to PPE oss With “Miss Isaper Drew, ‘ Ogdensburg, “ Presented by ** New York. his belt of arms, ' Then he drove on his way, and for the rest of the “a e, _ Des point where he was to take coac ad com ) en a , along’ 8 pasiene ppany, for several miners W Dan’L Keynepy, Esq.” | rriving at the end of the line, the story was Opening the clumsy envel ion read told over again, and all admired the dashing, | written in the same hand ee ie, rae 5 “My Dear DAUGHTER: — “The bearer of this letter to you is my comrade and true friend, a fellow-miner, of whom I have be- fore written you as being my mining partner. ““On account of the great difficulty of getting a letter mailed to you, I have not written often, and yet 1 have longed to do so. “*T have felt that you had about finished your education at Vassar, and would have returned to the old home of Cousin Jane, in Ogdensburg, until you heard from me, “IT had hoped ere this to have joined you there, and purchased for you a house all your own, so that we could dwell together in happiness the days I bad yet to live, for have prospered beyond all expec- tations. ** But now, when I should start to return to you, I feel myself unable to do so. ‘*The truth is, my dear child, I have overworked myself, and Iam now too weak to travel, in fact, to hide nothing from you, I am failing steadily, and so : send this letter to you, hoping you will come oO me, ““Dan will be your guide, and I will pay the ex- penses of Cousin Jane and her son if they will also accompany you, for this is a dread country for you to come to alone. “I have sent to attorneys in New York my will and important papers bearing upon things I wished settled. and toid them you would call upon them some day, “I have deposited in several banks, which they know of, large sums in my name, but which will be changed, to your credit as depositor, for tie money is your fortune. “‘All these things I can expiain to you, and will, for | cannot write, so I urge you to come to me at once, as delay is dangerous. ‘*Dan leaves me well-supplied, and Iam able to look after myself until you get here, which I hope will be within two weeks from this writing. “IT have here also, hidden away, which Dan even does not know the biding-place of, a large amount of gold-dust, also yours. ““I would not urge you, my dear Belle, to come here, did I not wish you to see me before I died, for I well know I cannot Jast much longer, “TI prepared you, in my last letter of several months ago, that my health was failing, so that you will nerve yourself to hear the worst. **Come at once, alone if you must, and trust Dah Kennedy in everything, for he is true and faitbful. ‘I can write no more, and hoping to see you before long, “Your ever loving father *“Davip Drew.” CHAPTER VIII. ON THE TRAIL, THE letter from David Drew to his daughter seemed to deeply impress Kent Kingdon, for he read it over several times, and then sat in d meditation, the firelight gleaming upon his face and revealing a strange expression there, He sat for a long time thus, and at last his thoughts found vent in words, ‘* How strange that Fate is aiding me as it is! “Tama vie athe not daring to make myself known, for those good Puritans in the would surely hang me for killing Horace Man- ners, though our duel was a fair one. ; ** Tj] fortune dogged my steps for awhile, but now the tide bas changed, for I have met in Isabel Drew a most lovely creature. I played my game boldly in the affair with the road- agents, and have gotten the treasure-box the coach carried safely hidden away, ‘Then Isabel looks upon me as a guardian, and meeting the old miner, Kennedy, bas just made me master of the situation. __ “There are two patbs open to me, and one is, if { find David Drew alive, to tell him Kennedy was shot, and in dying trusted me with the let- ter to his daughter, who, by a strange coinci- ence, I had just taken to Sports’ Paradise, aud so came to see him, but would return for Isabel and bring ber to him. _ “This would place me in his confidence, and in hers; but the fact is, I dare not return East, as she would desire to go at once, and I might not win her for my wife. ‘‘Thereby I would lose old Drew’s gold, for his attorneys would remember me, doubtless, under my own name, as the duel is not for- gotten. ‘IT can, on the other hand, see that Drew dies soon after giving me all the information he can, and then I can return and marry Isabel. ‘““T will not decide i awhile, but wait until I reach the cabin of Drew and he governed by circumstances,” With this decision, he coolly lay down to sleep away the hours of the night, as though he had not an atom of conscience. Bright and early he arose, cooked his breakfast and: started upon the way to the cabin of the miner, after having again closely studied the map he had. ; is life on the Texan prairies had made him g skillful plainsman, and he had no difficulty ip finding trails and reading signs of woodcraft, : «5 = 5 , y w 4 / | ta" PS | ¥ «*® Ba é SP 2 ie é ele ar : mr cel re Pe ~~ : j : ty = P *