Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 90 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

———<<$ eT ee A dl — *S ‘‘ But what’s the trouble, Rock? You look like a spook; and what made yer run so?’ asked the burly Regulator, while a merry twinkle glistened in his eye. “Trouble!” echoed the other, starting to his feet. ‘* Didn’t ye see’d me? Arter I’d fixed my rifle with a silver bullet and primed her slick, she missed! I tell yer, boys,” he added solemnly, “‘I know now thet thet thing is a spook! Herearter, he an’ me are goin’ on two trails!” it was not so much his words as his strange- ly solemn, woe-begone countenance, that caused the roar of laughter which followed. Suddenly, in the midst of this mirth, death looked upon the scene and laughed! Death in the shape of the Phantom Horseman. Merriment turned to terror! Vall Deckers, standing a little apart from the others, hastily reloading his rifle, seemed the designated object; all felt that he was the doomed man! CHAPTER XIX. FATE OF HANK WEBBER. ‘A HUNDRED dollars to the man who will rid us of that fiend!” cried Curt Dash, as it became evident that the Dead Duelist was returning, doubtless for another victim. ‘‘By heavens, cap’en! I’m your man!” ex- claimed Hank Webber; ‘Ill rub him out or go under!” As the burly Regulator spoke, he drew one of his revolvers and looked carefully to its priming. He was evidently in earnest, and was then the most self-possessed person in tbe crowd, save, perhaps, Vall Deckers. “Do it,” said Curt, ‘cand the money is yours.” ‘‘Hank Webber takes no blind oath!” came in reply. ‘‘He means jess what he says)” The dreadful rider was certainly coming that way—would soon reach them! ‘‘ Heavens!” gasped a hoarse, stifled vo.ce, **s’pose he’s arter me?” A crash in the bushes followed; and, save his heels, nothing was to be seen of Dandy Rock Randel. Evidently the Regulator had important business which demanded his im- mediate attention. But in the confusion that followed his absence was not noticed. Bound by superstition’s fearful dread, they watched the approach of the Dead Duelist, with intense interest. ‘¢Thank God! he is going to pass!” exclaim- ed Long Gus Durrell. nes The Re tor seemed right. “ By “nat he don’t pass!” cried Hank, with a look of stern determination. ‘‘ He or I am goin’ under!” In silence the others waited the action of their giant companion; a man who had been known to overcome, single-handed, half a dozen ‘picked men, in an open fight; a man who had never failed to accomplish his purpose, and whose prowess was barely matched in all Shelby county. Would he fail now! With his usual laugh, though with less of menace in his manner than common, the mys- terious horseman dashed down near to ‘Vall Deckers, who stood his: ground without flinch- Hank Webber, waiting for this moment, sprung forward right into the demon rider's path, clutching in his right hand a pistol, while with the other he attempted to seize the roan horse’s head, intending to check the course of his mounted foe; and then, inside the other’s fire from his rifle, end his career, with a close shot, if he was not more than mortal. But no obstacle met his grasp, and he staggered head long, almost under the animal’s feet. As the Ranger regained an upright position, he saw what he had lost. The muzzle of that fatal rifle met his gaze! Death was staring him in the face! A contemptuous laugh—a cry of was no more! “Good Heaven!” cried Vall Deckers, who had finished reloading his rifle, “‘ your horse is not a phantom if you are!” and, standing less The Dread Rider. 15 than ten feet distant, he fired directly at the roan steed; but, horse and rider, unhurt—un- touched—instantly disappear in the timber. No move was made to follow him; no one in the relief of his departure thought or cared to seek his trail. “ Is Hank dead?” some one ventured to ask. “Don’t you know better than to ask that, Bill Smiley?’ half-questioned, half-answered Vall Deckers. ‘ His rifle never misses!” Then the Regulators pressed around the un- conscious form of their unfortunate comrade. “Boys,” said the chief, “he died for our sakes! Let’s give him a decent burial,” An hour later, the mortal remains of Hank Webber had been consigned to the dust from whence they came. All this time passed, and no one was aware of the continued absence of Rock Randel. Then, it was suddenly noticed that he was missing. Surprised, the Regulators commenced a thorough search through the surrounding growth for their friend. But nothing of him could be found. Still, thinking that he had probably only wandered away, and would soon come back, they returned to their bivouac, to seek the rest they so much needed. Another hour passed by, and still Rock had not returned. Curt Dash, moving uneasily un- der his blanket, saw Vall Deckers steal away toward the horses. Curious to learn the meaning of the Ranger’s singular action, the captain noiselessly followed, and saw the other mount his blood-bay, and crossing the valley, ride away to the Red Lands. ‘That means no good,” said Curt, as he told his companions of what he had seen. ‘I have half a mind to follow,” ‘Yer might es well try ter foller a rattler,” replied Gil Rey. ‘‘ He’s an old coon, he is, on a trail. Got an eye jess like a painter’s. He jess knocks the hind sights off o’ ennything this side o’ Pike’s Peak, Wagh!” ‘But couldn’t you find anything of Mark Waring to-day?’ suddenly asked the Regulator chief. ‘““Nary aonce, Wes’arched the hull inside o’ the world, but it war a blind trail, Narya chip. Mark ar’ a gone beaver.” Morning brought not the return of Vall Deckers; but it did bring a new discovery. Long Gus Durrell was gone, and nothing of him could be found. Can we blame the Regulators if they turned their faces toward Chesterville? In the meanwhile, when Rock Randel, suf- fering from his severe fright, and really be- lieving that the Dead Duelist was coming for vengeance upon him, sought the protection of the forest, he had barely passed through the thicket, when he suddenly ran upon an object in his course, which threw him headlong to the earth. Ere he could regain his feet, a couple of men rushed upon him, quickly overpower- ing him in spite of his resistance, and he was borne away from his comrades, a captive in the hands of his most dreaded foe, CHAPTER XxX. DANDY ROCK’S ADVENTURE. Not a word was spoken by Rock’s captors as they half carried, half led himaway. They had secured his hands, but, for their own con- venience, had allowed him the use of his lower limbs. There were but two of them, and they had done a bold deed, and done it well. It seemed more like a dream to the Regulator than reality. Passing around to the east side of the bluff, which we have before had occasion to mention, the desperadoes at last paused. “ Oospita! We have no need to go further. The others will never find us, so let us do our work, and be off.” By the moonlight glimmering through the tree-tops, Rock was enabled for the first time to get anything like a fair view of his captors. One, as he already knew, was the Mexican, San Mullre: but the other, a filthy-looking, burly-framed person of the same nationality, was a stranger. Both were armed to the teeth, so to speak, and certainly were determined desperadoes. Hach held a pistol in his hand, and his lynx-like eyes, glowing as a panther’s watching its prey, never fora moment relaxed their vigilance. The Regulator saw no hope of escape; but resolved to make the best of his situation, he exclaimed, laconically: ‘Wal, old yaller-hide, I hope yer feel bet- ter!” ‘“‘ Malditos Mericano!” (cursed American) ‘‘once more you are mine!” cried the other, exultantly. “By Hookey, old Greaser, it does look as though you’d wrung a cold deal on me, enny- way. But, jess ye wait an’ I'll stop ye, same’s I did afore, see ef I don’t.” ‘‘ Por dios!” exclaimed the Mexican, angrily, ‘YT will see that you don’t repeat the thing again. That shall make me careful. Fortune has favored in your capture, for though Juan and myself were spying round your camp to get a shot at you, we didn’t think of getting you so easily. But for one thing we shouldn’t have taken the trouble to have brought you so far.” ‘‘Shoo! Wal, would hev suited me jess as well ef ye hedn’t. Sorry to hew troubled ye so. But jess let go, and [ won’t bother yer a minnit longer. Say the word, and I’m off like a sage rabbit.” “Fool! Do you think I have taken all this trouble for nothing? I have one question to ask you, and then | am done,” “A q-u-e-stion to ax me? §S’posen’t I won't answer?” ‘*'Then you die!” “Whew! Then ef I spit it out on the square, 1 ken hey my walkin’-papers? Wal, thet am talkin’, Jess heave ahead, old hoss, with yer axin’; I feel like answerin’ ennythin’, from the Gulf to the Rocker Mount’ins,” “Then, you will answer it?” “Yes, old beauty; I don’t care what it am, ef ye’l only free my paws, an’ give me a chance to scratch gravel,” “You are mine to do with as I think proper.” ‘Sho! Then you're my daddy! Hain’t seen ye since I left the old coop. Can’t ye fix it so I ken give ye a hand-shook?” It was evident Rock was trying to gain time. “Tell me”—and the Mexican seemed terri- bly in earnest—“‘is that strange-looking horse- man, with one leg, the rider of the roan steed, in league with Brad Wayne and his outlaws, or is he one of the men called Regulators?” “ Whoop—” + Dog! another cry like that and Ill brain you! ‘Scuse me, pard; I forgot. But I’m jess the old coon to tell yer all yer want ter know ‘bout thet spook. Thet’s what tickled me 80, an’ made me holler,” ‘““Cospita! Who is he?” ‘This old prairie chick ar’ just the beaver thet knows. He knows like a book. But what makes ye so mighty anxious bout him? Any relation?” ‘““Caramba! He killed a friend. I have sworn that he shall die, though he is Brad Wayne’s own brother.” ‘** That’s right, old Greaser, heave ahead; an’ I want ter be round when ther fun’s up, I reckon I’ve had some ’sperience thar myself. Knock him over; it be jess fun.” ‘‘ But who is he?” and the question was re- peated with increased earnestness. Jess undo my paws, and mebbe I’ll feel like telling. I don’t want ter take enny advantage uv you ’pindlin’ leetle feller; but, as yer two an’ I’m one, jess give me one uy my shooters an’ a tooth-pick, an’ I'll tell yer all yer want ter know ’bout him, an’ more too.” “Dog of an American!” hissed i “T am not trifling!” ye Fig “But yer sed ye w’u’d let me free ef I would answer yer question. Now, I’m ready ter keep my word. Cut ther rope.” * Never!” EOmicdoo