Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 90 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

The Dread Rider. 1 ee A low whinny from his horse interrupted the Regulator’s soliloquy, and caused him to look suspiciously round, when he saw a man approaching whom he quickly recognized as his friend, Mark Waring. The meeting between the Regulators was of mutual pleasure and surprise. “Wal, Mark,” said Gil Rey, in an under- tone, as he grasped the other’s hand, ‘I’m right glad to meet ye, fer blame meif I don’t believe we ar’ in the stampin’-ground o’ the outlaws,” “You are right, Gil; their den is just below here.” : ‘¢ What!” exclaimed the other, “yer don’t say thet yer hev diskivered it?” ‘‘T know pretty near where it is,” said War- ing, slowly; “‘and have been waiting all the afternoon for darkness to come, so I could re- connoiter. From my retreat, I saw your ap- proach, and so came out to meet you. But it is not safe for us to tarry here, as the outlaws are liable to discover us at any moment. Come with me to my hiding-place.” Mark led the way across the valley to the foot of the bluff, when, pushing their course through a line of thick, tangled growth that skirted the bank of a small stream, they sud- denly entered a clearing or glade, completely hidden from the outer world. Here was his horse, nibbling with a hearty will the green grass which reached to his knees, ‘‘Tether your horse here with mine,” said Waring; ‘‘and as we have a hard night’s work before us, we need something to eat, so come up to the cliff, where I have got a bit that will do for both of us, I guess.” Soon the sun sunk from sight, and night once more shrouded the western world. ‘“‘Well, Gil,” said Mark, at last, “our time has come. We must be moving before the moon goes down.” Mark Waring, having thus suddenly come forward as an important actor in our border- life drama, we crave the reader’s indulgence, to present, at this late hour, an outline of his appearance and bearing, that he and his des- tiny may be better understood; for, had it not been for him, Chesterville would have had a different history, and our narrative would never have been told, — Possessing a lithe, compactly-built frame, with broad shoulders and deep, full chest, Mark Waring’s six feet of manhood was a noble, majestic form, His dark-brown hair, with a full set of whiskers and mustache a shade lighter; dark eyes, regular features and pure complexion, gave him a “good-looking ” visage, upon which twenty-seven years of bor- der life had scarcely left an imprint. He was well known in Shelby county, having been in Chesterville two years, as an experienced hunter and scout, and a brave, true-hearted man. From whence he came and who he was, of course none knew or cared, With Curt ‘Dash he had been one of the originators of the band of Rangers and Regulators. He was not known to have any relatives in Chesterville, and was unmarried, being, as he had often said, with an almost saddened tone, “ alone in the world.” Leaving their horses secured in a snug re- treat, our Regulators slowly and cautiously made their way down the valley, soon striking .& sort of ravine, that seemed to have been once the bed of a river, but which had either found another course or whose sources had be- come dry. Upon either side the nearly per- pendicular banks rose to the hight of ten feet, covered at the top by a growth of pine and hemlock, all tending to exclude what little light came from the partially obscured moon, which was still at least four hours high in the heavens, so it was not without considerable difficulty that they were enabled to advance over the uneven, rock strewn bottom. Down the ravine half a mile, perhaps, and our friends suddenly found their way ob- structed by a kind of log and brush barrier. What did it mean? Pausing a moment, they heard the moving and stamping of horses’ feet. They realized in an instant that it was an inclosure where the outlaws corraled their animals. The banditti of course were not far distant. The moon was then hidden behind a heavy black cloud, making it pitchy dark in the gloomy ravine, so the scouts were obliged to wait for the moonlight before they could get any idea of their true situation. Then, as it gradually grew lighter, they saw that the rocky banks of the canon here rose to the hight of nearly forty feet, receding upon either side, covered here and there with patches of stunted bushes, overtopped above by large oaks, whose branches, reaching far out over the verge of the cliffs, nearly met, making it, even in mid- day, dark and dismal below, For a moment it seemed as if they were barred from proceeding further. Then they saw what appeared to be a sort of natural path, which wound its way upon the side of the right-hand cliff, gradually ascending. This commenced four or five feet from the bottom, but was quite easily accessible by artificial steps. A moment the Regulators hesitated as to the expediency of pursuing the path, for that ap- peared to be their only way of going further. After a hurried consultation, carried on in a low whisper, they decided to follow up the clue, let the consequence be what it might. Going a short distance, the pathway was fringed on the outer edge with a thick growth of bushes, leaving barely room betwen them and the cliff for a person to pass, and conceal- ing him from all outside view. Cautiously, the wary scouts advanced. Soon they were over the corral of horses, and by a flash of moonlight, that ever and anon would flit out from behind the partially clouded sky, illuming the scene with a somber brightness, they could count about thirty. Thus far the way had not shown any appear- ance of having ever been traveled before; but a point was soon reached where it was again accessible from the ravine below; and after this it bore unmistakable signs of being a reg ular footpath. Though fully realizing the peril of their undertaking, the Regulators, not satisfied with what they had already discov- ered, still pressed on, exercising the utmost caution in their movements. Suddenly Mark, who was in advance, caught the sound of human voices ahead, which caused them to pause; and while hesitating whether to proceed further, or to turn back, and give it up asa bad job, they heard foot- steps approaching behind. Good Heaven! they were in a trap! The path had now carried them half way to the top of the bluff, and was still ascending. Twenty feet of cliff above! twenty feet of chasm below! the foe in front! the foe behind! Lost by their own rashness! These were the thoughts that flashed through the minds of the Regulators, as they realized the peril of their position. To keep on seemed folly; to turn back would be death from their enemies, who had already gained the path, and were rapidly coming nearer and nearer. . The moon was behind a cloud, so that utter darkness vailed the scene; but this, where they were, would not protect them from the out- laws. A meeting was inevitable. ‘Over the cliff!” hissed Gil Rey, ‘‘an’ hang under the edge of the bushes! ‘Tis our only chance!” The plan was feasible; and noiselessly the Regulators pushed through the line of growth, carefully letting themselves down the side of the cliff to their full length, supporting their weight from the shrubbery, the thick foliage of which completely hid them from view. With bated breath, they heard the outlaws come nearer and nearer, until they were almost above them—would soon be passing. Mark was hoping —ay, thinking—they would s without trouble. But Gil Rey suddenly felt a thrill of terror shoot through his frame, as he felt the bush upon which he was sus- pended yield beneath the strain of his weight. In vain he tried to clutch another. He tried to speak to Mark, but his tongue seemed par- alyzed, and his mind could only grasp the thought of the depth below, while he felt him- self going—going— CHAPTER XIII. A FEARFUL DOOM. WirH a loud snap the tree parted, and Gil Rey went crashing down upon the canon’s rocky bottom twenty feet below. Startled, Mark came near losing his own hold, as he heard the noise and realized the sudden, awful fate of his comrade. The surprised outlaws paused abruptly, and hastily parting the bushes, the leader peered out over the cliff, to ascertain the cause of the disturbance, when, by the moonlight that sud- denly lit up the scene, he looked right into the face of the Regulator. Mark felt that his time had come. To loosen his hold upon the bush would be to challenge death; and captivity at the hands of the out- laws meant nothing less. But he was given not a moment for reflection. Rude hands seized him, and he was lifted upon the pathway above, and secured a captive. A part of the bandits turned back to seek the bottom of the ravine, while the others con- tinued on with their prisoner. A short distance, and they were halted by a sentinel, when giving the password, they stood the next instant upon a sort of platform, which extended around a huge rock, that shelved out over their heads, cutting off all means of a higher ascent. Turning the angle, they suddenly came upon a chasm in the rock, that seemed to have been the work of a mighty convulsion. This fissure extended back about a dozen feet to the abrupt ledge of the cliff, and was barely wide enough to admit a single person at a time. Quickly lighting a torch, the leader entered the dark cleft without hesitation. The cold muzzle of a pistol held to his temple, forced Mark to follow, succeeded by the rest of the gang. The dark passageway gradually descended for the first forty feet, and then it continued on a nearly level course. High above them, on either side, rose the granite rock, solid and stupendous. But as they advanced the sound of loud talk and boisterous laughter greeted their ears, out of the inky-black space beyond, growing plainer and plainer as they proceeded, until suddenly they came upon the mouth of a cavern in the rock to the right; when a wild, weird scene burst upon their vision. The cavern was lit up by arow of torches stuck in a crevice in the surrounding wall, showing, with a phantom-like glimmer, the forms of a score of coarse, bearded, brutal- looking men, seated in a circle near the center, gambling, drinking and carousing. As our party entered the cavern, the motley crowd arose from their games, and catching sight of Mark, turned upon him with a look of malignant scorn, ‘‘ Ha, Joe! whom have you there?” exclaim- ed a quick, nervous-toned voice; and a man dressed in a suit of black, wearing a dark mask upon his face, from beneath which a pair of eyes gleamed like coals of fire, stepped forward from the others. It was Black Wayne, the masked outlaw. “Wal, Cap,” said the one addressed as Joe, “T yeckon he am the chap yer sent me arter, Leastways, we found him too near hyar fer it to be healthy fer us, and so we jist took him along with us. But, he’s a game one, Gived us aright smart tussle to flop him,” | Seizing the torch from the speaker’s hand, the masked outlaw thrust it in the Regulator’s face; but as he caught sight of his features, he gave an involuntary cry, and staggered back against the wall, exclaiming, as he rallied a moment later: ‘‘This is not the one I sent you for, but his capture is to me a hundred-fold better. Ay, Joe Corinth, this has been the best night’s work you ever did!” Turning to Mark he continued: GOMmIGDOOKS.coO