Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 661 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

ie Kt s _ of that Hampton case . child—a son; Hampton also an only Banner Ben, the Wildfire of the Prairie. a ——— oo ‘Shoot him! knife him! hang him!” issued from lips in the turbulent crowd gathering about. ‘* Men of Roarin’ Rocks,”said Old Kit Bandy, stepping to the side of the prisoner, ‘* this man is my prisoner, and I warn you not to harm him while in my charge.” There was a desperate earnestness in the old man’s tone that for the time quelled the spirit of the disorderly mob. The outlaw was kept under guard at the Sun- Dog. As soon as it was dark Old Kit and Ich- abod intended to slip away with him from the mob and carry him to the place where most wanted. The news of the villain’s capture spread like wildfire through the camp, and by dark the sa- loon was packed full, while scores of men were gathered outside swearing by all that was good and bad that Captain Blood should never leave there alive. To make good their oathsthey pro- ceeded to organize, and as soon as Bandy learned this he went into the little apartment curtained otf in one corner of the saloon where Blood was seated ih charge 01 Ichabod Flea and said: . ‘Captain Blood, I’m afeard the jig’s up with you, old boy; Judge Lynch is organizin’acourt, and you know what that means, I reckon.” se Kit Bandy, the great detective, in- fluence enough to save me from a mob?” asked the outlaw, in a tone severely sarcastic. ““They’re wild—crazy—mad, Some o’ them say you killed their friends at this place and that | they’re going to settle accounts with rou. ‘** Bandy,” said the outlaw, leaning forward and whispering to the detective, ‘‘ mind what I tell you: if you permit them cowards to lynch me you’ll lose the best clew and the best witness you will ever find in the case you have been at work on so long—I mean the Hampton Crime and Conspiracy !” Kit Bandy started. His face as well as his actions betrayed his surprise and astonishment. ‘*Horn o’ Joshua!” he exclaimed, ‘‘ what do you know ’bout that affair, Blood?” ‘* More, perhaps, than you might think.” ‘* A party to the crime, eh?” ‘* Yes—no,” replied the outlaw; ‘‘but my life’s worth something to me—the secret to you. Of course, I know, and so do you, that a crime and conspiracy are only suspected—not known to be a fact.” ‘But since you have spoken as: you have,” said Old Kit,‘‘I am satisfied it is a fact and that you know something about it,” ‘‘ Very well, make the most of it, Kit Bandy,” was Blood’s indifferent reply. . **Convince me that you do know something , and I will save your life at the risk 0’ my own,” declared Bandy, earnest- “Tl do it, sir,” answered the outlaw, ‘for more reasons than one, ‘‘ though I will not ex- plain any that do not already know, In the first place, ’'m going right* back to the very start: Some years ago there dwelt in wealthy men, Israel Ash- These two men together, been educated at married at the same time, and settled down upon adjoining plantations. Their jives and fortunes seemed to run in the same They accumulated wealth rapidly, Kentucky two ve more and Adam had grown u the same schitio$, ampton., channel. and it seemed a bright future was before them. But the tide finally turned. wile died, and in less than a a widower. Ashmore was left with daughter, whese name was _ Jessie. Mr. Bandy, am I on the right subject, think?” | “Yes, yes,” replied Kit, impatiently, ‘ go on, captain 7 o on. Well the outlaw céntinued, ‘‘ both Ash. more and Hampton conceived the idea of unit- ing their great fortunes, and undertook to be- Ashmore and Jessie ‘Hampton, who were about eighteen and sixteen troth their children, Ha . sof agerespectively. The children alread Seamed to think a great deal of each’ other an Israel Ashmore’s ear Hampton was a single child—a But say, do you consented to the betrothal. But to make sure Te their wish was fulfilled, the fathers willed $$$ ‘*The estates were managed by the guardians of the boy and girl. Harry was in college, and some time after her father’s death Jessie Hamp- ton, who was a pretty, romantic girl, took it into her head to go on a summer’s visit with old friends residing in Northwestern Kansas. The name of this gy tee Raymond. They had formerly lived in Kentucky, near the Hamp- tons, and Jessie had become devotedly attached to Betty Raymond, a girl of her own age. Dur- ing that very summer, while Jessie was with the Raymonds in Kansas, occurred the Sappa Valley massacre by the Cheyenne Indians. he rcs ~ Rien 9g was laid in ruins, the family were all killed, and of course it was gl Bre that Jessie, too, hdd fallen a victim to red-skin brutality. Search was made for her among the ment be ior for some thought her great beauty might induce the red-skins to carry her away a captive; but this search proved fruitless, and all hopes of ever seeing her again died out of her guardian and her betrothed. ‘*But after nearly a year had passed who should turn up at her home in Kentucky but Jessie Hampton! But, alas! she was so horribly disfigured that even Harry Ashmore could not recognize in voice or feature a single trace of her former self and beauty. Her story of her deformity was this: At the time the Cheyennes made their Sate upon Raymond’s place, she and Betty Raymond ‘escaped to the prairie and con- cealed themselves in a field of tall grass. The Indians fired jthe prairie, and unable to esca from the flames, she and her friend were caught therein. Betty Raymond was burned to death and Jessie fell in the flames, unconscious. And there where she fell she was found the next morning by an old hunter named Rule. Find- ing she was not dead he took her to his dug-out, and there tenderly nursed her back to life. But for months she laid between life and death. Not another soul came'to or was seen about the dug- out during all her convalescence, and when she was able to travel the hermit hunter took her to the nearest military post, which was over a hundred miles distant, and gave her into the care of the commandant, who returned her to her home in Kentucky with the hunter’s story of his finding her and her long months of suffer- ing. R The poor girl’s mind was almost shattered by the ordeal she had passed through and the condition it left her in. She was really hideous in her deformity. To her lover she seemed almost repulsive, and the great hope of their fathers seemed in a fair way to remain unful- filed. The only thing about the unfortunate that Harry Fecbeniaed was a heavy gold ring that he had given her before she went away on her visit. ‘But within a year or two Harry Ash- more got it into his head that the i 1 was an impostor—that the true Jessie was the victim of a conspiracy. His suspi- clon grew out of some trifling remark the dis- girl inadvertently made one day in his hearing. Her dian did not share his suspicions, but the more Harry brooded over the matter the stronger became his conviction that the girl was not Jessie Hampton. ae ee he concluded to make some investigations. He visited the scene of the Indian massacre, the post commandant who had sent her home, and sought out Old Rule, the hunter, and most important witness of all. But he couldn't find Rule, nor had he ever been heard of since he left the fort. The disappearance of the hunter seemed a little singular—in fact, strengthened Ashmore’s sus- picions of foul nF ‘Finally, he laid the case in the hands of the Mountain Detective Association, which, in turn, handed over the case to you, Bandy, to investigate. You see I have _e ou the de- tails of” the case whether you do or do not know them; but, admitting—or supposing—you do, do you think I know anything about the case which is entered at head-quarters of the De- tective Association as ‘The Great Hampton Conspiracy ’?” ‘By the horn o’ old Joshua!” declared Old Kit, ‘‘I should hum that you’d had an inklin’ 0’ the case; but you haven’t reached the bull’s- eye o’ the matter yit. Do you. know whether . io a ee With a moan he fell forward, dead, at the feet of the old detective. With a muttered curse Kit Bandy sprung to his feet and rushed out into the main room. The place was dimly lighted and filled with : two-score of excited men, all of whom were now *.... crowding in the direction whence the pistol-re- , port had come. ‘Who fired that assassin shot?” thundered the old man, his eyes sweeping the crowd around him. No one answered him, but every eye was at once focused on the face of the old detective, whose tall form towered a head above those around him. Soon the news of Blood’s death was announc- ed, and then the crowd became frantic with joy. Kit Bandy and Ichabod Flea made their way eo into the open air, and when alone, Flea said: ‘** Kit, that was as foul a shot as a coward ever. fired. But I spotted the vampire that I suspect o’ the deed. I came out into the main room when Blood began his story, and I sawa man standing near the curtain. At first sight I mistrusted he was eavesdropping, but went away. I’m sure 0’ one thing, however, and that is that the man wore false whiskers. But I did © . not see him fire the shot, nor did I see him after the shot was fired. But I'll wager my interest in the Sandy Desert that that man was listen- ihe. 2) that he, whoever he was, fired the fatal ot. ** Then, by the horn 0’ Joshua! he killed Blood that the secret of the Hampton Conspiracy rim remain a rae tnever be known to Ka-ristopher Ko-lumbus Bandy. And that assassin, Ichabod, is the man we now want, and by yonder silver moon, by them blinkin’ stars and them hoary-headed , that man we will have or—” Here the old detective’s speech was cut short. There was the flash of a pistol in the deep shad- ows of the building near which they were stand- ing, and with a sharp cry of pain the old man staggered backward and fell to the earth. Just then the moon, asif in very shame, hid her face behind a cloud, and Ichabod Flea, kneeling beside the body of Kit Bandy, called aloud for help. The old detective had been shot down by the hand of a lurking assassin! CHAPTER III. BEN BANNER, THE YOUNG WILDFIRE. A WIDE, g valley, trending away toward the northwest. The silvery Arkansas quivering in the October sunlight as it crept softly through the great vale. Little clumps of trees gorgeous in their autumnal robes of scarlet and old. A herd of a thousand or more buffaloes zily lolling in the valley. Flocks of small, dusky birds sporting in the air above the shag- gy herd. In the distance a prairie-dog village whose frisky little denizens seemed all aglee. Cowardly coyotes skulking on the distant hills, Over all, the weird and dreamy haze of a glori- ous Indian summer. | And this was the scene Bream to the gaze of three horsemen who had drawn rein upon the. crest of a hill overlooking the valley, and while they ere feasting their eyes upon it we will in- troduce them to the reader. The first to claim attention was a youth about eighteen years of age, though his Bsa onl cal developments were those of aman. Hewas of medium hight, somewhat slender and straight as an Indian. He had a well-shaped head, a — rather prepossessing face, oe tage eyesspark- — ling with the spirit of ‘pe exuberance, a rather prominent nose of the Roman type and a mouth around which seemed to play the rip- pling smiles of a rollicking, devil-may-care sort of a youth. Dressed in the suit of a border ranger and scout, armed with rifle, revolvers ~ knife, and Peed Spot a paca gir and well-caparisoned pony, his general appearance | did not belie his character, for this youth was. the noted Banner Ben, the Youn idfire of the Prairie—noted as a scout, a skilled hunter | and rifleman. No more fearless boy rode the prairies than Ben Banner, or Banner Ben, as he 4 their property, each to his own child, so that | the disfigured girl is an impostor? and if she |. was better known. + they e into full possession of all providing | is, do you know what became of the true Jessie The oldest of the other two horsemen was a ir} they Married before Harry was twenty-three pton?” | . man of perhaps two and twenty, with a fine, | years Of age, In case they did not marryby} ‘T do!” Blood answered, promptly; but they | ro figure, pleasant brown eyes em a manly ‘that time half of sey mete! ibs rty was to go | were the last words he ever uttered, for, at t and intellectual face. He, too, was dressed in “* ‘to his half-brother, Gerald Smedley, while instant, a hand clutching a bulldog revolver | the buckskin of a hunter, yet it was quite evi- i of Hampton’s was to go to his dead wife's dent that he was only an amateur sportsman. Randolph Darnley. Two years after of these wills Ashmore died, and, s fis « y ° ot Ld ys ¥) ae ay i } OA BE Ee Ny \ . Sa ems, Mr, Hampton followed him ‘. ‘ , : . . é ie? 4 i? Lu - ‘ $ e 2 ¢ ‘ ‘* Ad, rr) 4 ‘ ON a “ . was thrust eproagh a rent in the curtain that ted them from the wrangling mob out- side, the weapon was discharged, anda mur- derous bullet crashed into the temple of the out- Ww. He answered to the name of Harry Ashmore. “— The third horseman was also > ne prom | ‘@ of about two-and-twenty, dressed ers, was well armed and, ju ae { ; pny Sway By Pedih i & pS, 4 | ig 4 o | ~ dging fromhisgen~