Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 90 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

—_—_— oo oe aT = SS ee ee a SSE eae Sa i ee egret TE LL LE a ee ee es 1. Ee oe —— Nee es See nae — Se S5 SG (es ee 6 eee ae Se i em a —- — 4 ee wea —— lc a a ——— oe x 6 et OO ar Oe es a OES BSE ES Ee a 10 a ee ~ ha A ON ALL LLL LLL LL LLL LLL LAL —_—-_ The Dread Rider. and Mexican Pete, who reported an unsuccess- ful day’s work. Pretty soon Curt Dash joined the group, but he came alone. ‘* Where is Gil Rey?’ was the question that greeted the Regulator chief as he reached the spot, “Safe and sound as far as I know,” an- swered Curt; *‘but he is still on the trail. He is bound not to give it up so easily. The old mountain coon is a long trailer. But what success, boys?’ Then the hardy little band gathered round the old sycamore, and each in turn briefly nar- rated his day’s experience, It seemed that Mexican Pete and Long Gus had been wholly unsuccessful, as far as the ob- ject of their search was concerned. Curt Dash believed that Gil Rey and himself had been in the right direction, though as yet nothing positive had been learned. The Regu- lator chief also gave it as his opinion that San Mullre and his gang were not in any way con- nected with the masked outlaw, Black Wayne, and his followers. The Regulators were in the midst of their consultation, when suddenly a wild, sardonic laugh, prolonged to almost a shriek, broke the stillness of the scene. ‘Good God! look there!” It was Long Gus Durrell who made the startling exclamation. Every man uttered an involuntary cry at the sight which met their gaze. Riding forward, as if he had just emerged from the solid cliff that hemmed in the Black Gulch, was a horseman, who, once seen, was never to be forgotten. He was the exact counterpart of One Leg, the mysterious Un- known, who had fallen in that duel with Curt Dash, three weeks before! There is that same form, with its missing leg—the same long, iron-gray hair—those same piercing eyes—that fearful scar—that unnatural mien; and he car- ries the same dark-stained rifle, rides the same roan steed, guided now without bit or bridle! All this; and who cannot help thinking but it is the phantom of the unnamed duelist, whose maimed body was buried by the edge of Chester chaparral, beneath two feet of Texas - earth? Awe-struck, the Regulators behold the fear- ful horseman coming nearer and nearer, clutch- ing his rifle nervously. Curt Dash is the first to recover his self-pos- session, and with forced calmness, he raises his rifle to his shoulder, exclaiming, in a stern, menacing tone: “Be you man or devil, stand!” Without heeding the demand, other than a slight laugh, the form still advances. ‘* Be the consequences upon your own head!” cries Curt, as, with a certain aim, he fires, As the others heard the report of their leader’s rifle, they expected to see the stranger fall, but to their surprise and consternation, with a scornful laugh the horseman rides on! _Has One Leg, the dead duelist, two lives to live, two deaths to die, before his unquiet spirit is made to sleep? ~ CHAPTER XI ANOTHER. PARALYZED with terror, the five Texans saw the maimed horseman ride past; then they breathed easier. But, at the very same mo- ment he disappeared in the growth twenty rods to the left, they heard that same scornful laugh right in front of them, quickly followed by the crack of a rifle, and a bullet sped by Curt Dash’s head, so near that it left its mark upon his temple. ' Stunned, the Regulator chief staggered back against the sycamore. ‘My God! the cap’en is killed!” cried Hank Webber, rushing forward to Curt’s side. Mexican Pete, Long Gus and Dandy Rock dushed into the thicket from whence the shot had been fired; but they could find no trace of the would-be assassin, and after a diligent search were obliged to give it up. No covert could they find that would secrete a single man, much more a horse and rider. Curt soon recovered from the effect of the shot; but it was some moments before the lit- tle group rallied from their fright. ‘Wal, by hookey, Cap!” exclaimed Dandy Rock, who was the first to break the silence, | “what d’ye think uv my spook now? This war the very same picter uv what I see’d thet night, an’ I knowed thet lead wouldn’t hev enny pression on him, fer I tried it then. Ive a sil- ver bulles fer him; thet ’ll fix him; but, cuss thet Greaser, here I am in a fightin’ kentry without enny guards. Howsomever, this ain’t going ter last long. Pll hev back my old shoot- ers an’ wipe out thet coyote, or git throwed. Wagh! Rock Randel don’t want a top-knot in this kentry, unless he am ‘lowed to guard it!” ‘Well, boys!” Curt at last said, ‘‘ I don’t see as we can mend the matter by standing here. There is some mystery in this, but I am inclined to think it is a scare gotten up by some of the boys, or, perhaps, a trick of the out- laws.” ** But the shot, cap’en; how do you explain that?’ asked Mexican Pete; and then pointing to the sycamore where it had entered, he ex- claimed, ‘‘i# was done with a copper bullet!” The Regulator was right, and the discovery, recalling vividly to mind the strange and startling assertion of One Leg the Unknown, added terribly to the mystery. ** Boyees!” exclaimed Dandy Rock, solemnly, ‘“‘T’ve seen the thing afore, an’ I know it ar’ the spook uv thet one-legged stranger cap’en rubbed out in thet duel. He don’t rest easy; but a silver bullet ’ll fix him, now mark my word!” ‘‘Be it a phantom or not, it never ’ll do to ‘dally here,” replied Curt, who, less supersti- tious than the others, was not disposed to dwell upon the subject, though he had really faced all the danger. ‘‘I am going back to meet Gil Rey. The rest of you can go on to the Prairie Home, if you choose.” ‘‘ What! yer goin’ back ter-night?’ exclaim ed Long Gus, as if startled by the bare thought. “Yes,” answered the Regulator chief; ‘I am not going back to the Prairie Home till I find the outlaws’ den if it is in the Red Lands.” “Ef yell jess say the word, I’m with ye, cap’en!” said the giant Regulator, “No, Hank; I shall not need you now. Two in a case like this are better than more. Go back to Chesterville and see if everything is well there. Expect to hear from me soon, Good-by.” Curt Dash, unmindful of the dangers sur- rounding him, was gone, to continue his peril- ous work; and the others—well, to speak the truth, after what they had seen, they were glad to head for Chesterville. On their way back, in following the path that led through the timber west of the chap- arral, the Regulators were forced to pass near the grave of the Dead Duelist; and as they neared the fatal spot a superstitious dread seized them. It was getting quite dark, and save the hoof-strokes of their horses, the still- ness of death hung over the valley, unbroken till they were opposite the ill-fated burial- place; then came the startling report of a rifle —a report that seemed to issue from the lonely gravel Not a single person or object was in sight, yet all plainly heard the report, with the echo that followed, and thrilled with terror, they galloped madly on. A crowd had gathered at the Prairie Home —an anxious, excited throng. The arrival of their friends from the Red Lands was hailed with delight, and they were plied with ques- tions. The stories of the Regulator scouts were listened to with interest, almost awe. Many a curious question was asked, and many an ap- proving comment made, But when mention was given of the Dead Duelist and that fearful scene under the lone sycamore, coupled with the discovery of the copper bullet, hushed stili- ness fell upon the listeners; and as Hank finish- ed the singular narrative it was announced that Captain Kelley and Will Manners had both been shot with copper bullets! All this might merely be a series of singular coincidences. Perhaps there was nothing startling in the manner of the death of Captain Kelley and Will Manners, nothing strange in the appearance of the Dead Duelist, nothing re- markable in this use of copper bullets, nothing extraordinary or connected in the scenes of the last fortnight; but the minds of the supersti- tious borderers were stirred to their fullest depths, ‘“‘T’ll tell ye what it is, boys,” said Long Gus, ‘there is some foul play about this!” “Wal,” chimed in Dandy Rock, “ this spook bizness is foul bizness ennyway, I calculate! But I jess want ter see Mister Sperit, or what- ever he is, once more arter I git my other shooter plummed with a silver bullet. I'll show him how tobe tearing round loose; I will, wagh!” ‘“Where is Mark Waring?” asked Rock, a few minutes later. But no one knew. In fact he had not been seen since the night before. ‘Gone to the Red Lands, mebbe,” supple- mented True Bill. “ Hain’t you got a weepon—” Dandy Rock commenced the sentence, but he never finished it. At that moment, loud cries and the hurried tramp of rushing feet were heard without, The next instant the door was thrown violently open, and Clint Trask, the Regulator, with his long hair disheveled and streaming in the air, a wild, scared look upon his face, rushed into the room, shrieking: ‘‘T have seen him! I have seen him! ’Tis he! back from his grave! For God’s sake, save me! save me!” A low, mocking laugh! Outside, the crowd behold the weird form of the Dead Duelist up- on his dark-roan steed! The haggard fugitive hears the laugh. He turns pale as death. ‘God have mercy on me! I am lost! lost!” A moment of awful suspense. Then, the report of a rifle; and with a low cry Clint Trask, the doomed Regulator, throws up his arms, and staggering back, falls to the floor, dead. An instant later the fearful horseman 1s gone, and in the wild confusion that follows, no trace of him can be found. CHAPTER XIL A PERILOUS SOOUT. Gu, Rey had avowed his intentions of con- tinuing the search for the outlaws’ retreat. Curt Dash had given his hearty approval. They separated—the Regulator chief to re- turn to meet their comrades, the mountaineer to proceed on in a south-westerly course. We know Curt met the others at the syca- more; we are familiar with the scenes that succeeded; so let us follow the fortunes of the veteran scout, Gil Rey. An hour’s ride nearly to the south and our mountaineer had left the Red Lands proper behind. He was now in a country which, though it presented many features similar to the latter, was on the whole a forcible con- trast. Instead of an unvaried tract of land, sparsely covered with a stunted growth fast hastening to decay, unrelieved for miles at a time by a single redeeming object, extending for leagues and leagues in one wild waste, here was Nature in her most diversified form. The precipitous bluff, surrounded by the timbered bottom, the level plain, unbroken as far as the vision can extend, the rocky canon, its dark- some depths dividing the desert-land from the green prairie, and the fertile valley with its babbling stream of limpid water, were all stretched before the astonished gaze of the scout in one panoramic view. “Wal!” ejaculated Gil, “this am a change an’ no mistake! I’ll bet this am jest the kentry whar them ar’ varmints ar’—” (E] 90 )(0) eoilm Si 4 SERS oh S | : ; ne ~ as - ae