Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 708 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

skulking near. Then he returned to that inef- fectua: grave, bending low and gazing keenly ‘into that ghastly face. ‘‘Not dead—thank the Lord!” he breathed, softly, recognizing a swoon, ‘Foul play—for dead sure!” Though the light was so dim. just there, he could see enough to explain at least a part of what haa puzzled him. This unfortunate stranger had been buried so bastily or so care- lessly, that while hidden from their sight while passing near in gathering fuel, he bad been able to force the dirt, leaves and sticks from over his face, the growling thunder smothering such sounds as he made while so doing. Satisfied that life still lingered in that form, Lute quickly set about rallying Lemuel, whose aid he knew would be essential. He found this a work of time, for the poor fellow was half scared to death; but at heart Lem wasa true jad, and when his natural dread of “ ks” had been overcome, he fell t> work with a hearty good will. Together they disinterred the stranger, the pity of each growing as they noted those marks of brutal violence: the gashed scalp, the per- ‘forated chest, all telling of murder, attempted if not perfected. Bearing the body closer to the camp-fire, Light-heart Lute bade Lem search among the shelving rocks hard by foraspot where they might be sheltered from the coming storm, then set eg xamining the body more carefully. The stranger was past middle age, judging from his gray hair and almost white beard. His hhands bore signs of hard work, and his clothes were such as a miner or prospector would maturally wear, coarse, stout, of material fitted for roughing it. There was nothing in any of his pockets to identify him; no money, no writing; and though Light-heart Lute knew, from the signs of wear on his trowsers, that he had recently worna belt of arms, that also was missing. The lacerated scalp told of acruel blow, or blows, but gentle manipulation with his finger- tips assured Lute that the fracture, if any, could be of no great extent, It was different when he came to examine that broad chest, carefully cutting the blood. stiffened cloth until the hurts were rovealed. These were two in number; small, livid spots, now closea, but telling only too plainly that the assassin had fired twice. ‘He must have the constitution of an ox, to have lived so long!” the adventurer reflected, frowning darkly as he flashed an involuntary glance around them. ‘‘ifhe pulls through—but he can’t! The day. of miracle working are past and gone!” ““] done ’skivered it, boss!” cried Lemuel, at this juncture. ‘** Discovered what—whom—which? ** Hole in de wall, boss! Jes’ like "twas made fo’ us-all, an’-—hub!” with a goose-like cocking of his eye toward the clouds as the patter of heavy rain-drops began. ‘‘Dah she comes, boss! Yainin’, fo’ suah! Mighty wet, too!” as a big drop struck one of those wildly rolling eyeballs, “Catch hold—gently, you rascal!” said Larrimer. ‘‘ Lead the way to this hole of yours, and—stumble if you dare, sir!” Between them they carried the unconscious stranger a few rods from the camp-fire, along the shelving ledge of rocks of which mention has been made, and when Lem nodded toward the eave he had discovered, Lute caused their burden to be lowered until he could investigate for himself. The entrance was both low and narrow, and his nostrils were greeted with auythiag but an agreeable odor when he crept inside; but the match which he struck showed him that the den was spacious enough for thom all, and would at least afford perfect shelter from the increasing storm, Backing out, he resumed his burden, and tho unconscious stranger was quickly under cover. ‘Run out and fetch in the rest of the wood; Lem,” hastily muttered Lute, at the same time striking another match and by its faint light quickly raking togetber a quantity of leaves which had drifted into the hole. gave a little start as his fingers closed over a cold bone, but there was eg, | superstitious about it; he knew now what he had suspected when that rank, disagreeable odor came to his nostrils, ‘A wild beast’s den! All right; we’re here first!” he muttered to himself, casting the bone aside and bss doe relieve Lem of his first arm- ful of wood. “Bring more: we’ll need light to see by, if we’re to do this poor fellow any good.” Light-heart Lute’s Legacy. ** Den—he hain’t done dead, boss?” faltered Lemuel, ** Don’t you think it, old fellow! Brinz wood, before it gets soaked, and [lJ look after the rest,’ With the dry leaves asa starter, Lute found it an easy task to get asmall but cheery fire to burning, and by its clear light hedid all that lay in bis power to aid the luckless stranger. Before trying to restore bis senses, Light-heart neatly er tiy 3 those ugly wounds in his chest, to lessen the liability of bemorrhage should the patent recover sufficiently to talk, One bullet ad passed entirely through the body, but the other had stopped inside, **So much vhe worse for your chances, stran- ger!” mutterod Larrimer, when this point was as- certained. ‘‘I wouldn’t dare go hunting for it, even if I had the Proper instruments!” Having Lem fill the coffee-cup with cool water from the spring, Light-heart Lute produced a half-pint flask of good rips 4 and mixed a fairly strong draught in his pocket-cup, Drop by drop at first, then in gradually in- creasing potions, he succeeded in getting this mixture down the throat of the wounded man, to be shortly after rewarded by a gasp, a sigh, a frightened start, and a moment later an opening of those hollow, sunken eyes! ‘* Easy, pardner!” soothingly murmured the adventurer. ‘* We’re your best friends, just now, and we'll pull you safely through if you'll just lay quiet and let us doall the work. Under- stand ‘**) say, boss!” croaked Lem, his great eyes glowing whitely from out the gloom into which he had retreated, ‘‘ Dar’s de heapin’est pile ob ole bones ober heah, dat ebber you—” ** Kat ’em, if you like. Take ’em outside with you—go watch against any one’srunning off with our fire, Come back when I call you; not be- fore—nunderstand ?” Lem grumbled, but obeyed, as he always did when Light-heart Lute assumed that stern man- ner. He never suspected the truth that Lar- rimer hoped to keep from him the fact that they had sought refuge in the den of a wild beast! True, it might not have been occupied for many months: he had had no time to decide that point bya closer examination; butif he was to coax this almost corpse back to life, all excitement must be avoided, Pleased with the result, so far, Larrimer strengthened the dose of grog, coaxing the wounded man to drink, much as he might have coaxed a fretful child.. And, little by little his strength seemed to return to him, though that wild, haunted, dazed look never once left his eyes, Touching lightly on that point at first, watch- ing closely the effect of his words, Light-heart Lute at length contrived to make his patient re- alize how they had found him partially resur- rected from an untimely grave by his own hands! ‘‘T know—I was smothering!” the stranger gasped, shivering like one who still experiences that awful agony of both mind and body. “He didn’t kill me—though he—tried !” Although naturally eager to hear the whole truth of what he knew must be a strange, thrill- ing story, Larrimer held his curiosity in check for a time longer, giving his patient frequent sips of nearly pure brandy, a practiced finger keeping tally of his strengthening pulse. “Don’t try to talk too soon, pardner,” he would say, jong, & **Of course we’ll pull you|through all right, but itll come all the lighter if you don’t stop to dig in your toe-nails too often! You’re worth a thousand dead men, al- ready!” ‘*] never knew—no warning!” moaned the r fellow, flinching at each gasp, as though is hurts were being freshly probed. ‘* Ana my poor little girl—Grace—dear child!” - “*She’s coming—she’ll be here soon to help nurse you back to bealth and strength again, pardner—never worry !” murmured Lute. *“* Coming—where?” cried the stranger, lifting his head and shoulders with a spasmodic effort; only to drop back again, with a moan of an- guish which surely was not all bodily, ‘She caa’t—she don’t know where— O-h-h /” ** She can—she shall come, dear man, if you'll only direct me how and where to find her,” dis- tinctly uttered Larrimer, leaving over until their eyes could squarely meet, A brief silence, during which those sunken eyes seemed trying to read the whole truth. Then he strove once more to rise, unaided. In vain. He felt his impotence, and groaned aloud in acute anguish. ; “Can I—trust you?” he buskily gasped, re- newing that gaze, only to close his lids. with an- other shiver of bitter pain. ‘' J must /” **'Yes, you must,” slowly repeated Larrimer, very gravely. ‘“‘ I swear to be true to whatever trust you may place in me, but—you must speak now—if at all!’ ‘** Then—tell me the whole truth! ing?” ‘**] fear you are, poor fellow!” was the husky response, I am dy- CHAPTER ITI. LIGHT-HEART LUTE’S LEGACY. ALTHOUGH he surely must have anticipated such an answer, the wounded man flinchedvisi- _. bly before those gravely reluctant words, “XZ “I bate to say it, pardner, but in a time like this, anything short of the truth would be a | curse, rather than a blessing,” added Larrimer too brave and true-h himself not to feel strongly agitated, ‘lll do my level best, of course, but—well, I’m sadly afraid it’s your last sickness, and if you bave any word to leave—” ** My poor little girl!” huskily muttered the stranger. “Pll do my best to soften the blow to her stranger. Just tell me how and where to fin Be? her. For— What is it, old fellow?” 6s Those closed lids flew open. Those* sunken eyes seemed to catch a brighter, keener light from the ruddy glow of the fire. An unsteady hand lifted far enough to touch an arm, and Light-heart Lute drew a bit closer as he asked that question. ** Let me—your eyes!” ** They’re bonest, if I do say it myself,” witha faint smile, bending nearer as he civined what was wanted, ‘Still, it’s for you to decide, If there was any other person near enough to trust, I'd gladly step aside in their favor, but—what’s done at ail, ought tobe done quickly, dear man!” It was not easy to say just what impression was made upon the injured man by that gaze or those warning words. His heavy lids closed and his feeble fingers dropped away. He seemed sinking into a stupor ‘which might be the fore- runver of death, It seemed cruel to disturb bim, since each at- tempt at speech must cause him pain, but Luther Larrimer dared not lose more time, The pale, sad face of a little child seemed to flit before his eyes, and he could almost hear a a voice reproaching him for criminal neg- ect, ie > ‘For her sake,” he said, slipping a hand un- a der the wounded man’s head, gently raising him , afew inches, ‘* For little Grace, brace up!” ‘* Grace—all alone—all alone, now!” **'You have friends or relatives, surely?” ** None—all alone!” groaned the stranger, shiveringly, closing his lips and trying to avert them from the proffered draught, **Call it medicine, and take it like a man,” almost sternly spoke the adventurer, persisting. You must ball a how I can find your child, and this will lend you strength, Come—swal- low a drop, pardner!” ‘“T didn’t know. I thought—yes, give it— strong!” Light-heart Lute did not wait to be asked twice. Believing as he did that the end was nigh, and that the poor fellow was beyond being injured by anything he could administer, he brought the flask into play, and permitted his patient to swallow what he could. That was not much, from a well man’s stand- point, but the spirits produced an almost magical effect on that weakened frame. A clearer light came into his eyes, <A tinge of color showed in his face. His voice grew stronger and the words came with less pain. ‘*T thank you, sir! I will—hbelp me fight back death until—I can trust you to do right?” The old haunting doubts came back again, bearing witness to a troubled past. Surely, enemies must have been more plentiful than friends, in this poor fellow’s experience! ‘*T’'ll do my level best, sir,” earnestly replied Lute, ‘While I lay no claim to being better than the average, ’'m white and free born, I had a mother—once—and I’d be ashamed to lie and think of her, as I do of nights, at spells, if I thought anything could make me go back on my ~. word when once given to a dying man.” ee ** Forgive—I works eS r ** All right, pardner!” as o genie genes s at cold, when kot hand once more, ‘* Now tell me our name, and where I can find — home, ’m asking it for her sake, remember With his eyes the injured man asked for the brandy flask, and after swallowing a few more drops of the powerful stimulant, be gave the de- sired information, Even yet it seemed difficult for him to speak, and the sentences were broken, at times too dis- connected for any one less deeply interested than ooks.com « = * : A ) 7 , é \ { | _ Ve 0 / | |» — SS