Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 90 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

——- — — — — — ——— -— - —-- ae 2 ee eee -—-— 18 The Dread Rider. “The outlaws have doubtless abducted her,” Curt at last said. ‘‘ But cheer up, colonel; we will rescue her before she comes to harm; | will stake my life for that.” ‘Thank you, Captain Dash, for the comfort your words give me. Do it, and you shali never regret the trouble.” “‘T can never rest until it is done; and, what is more, I will not !” The colonel, nearly overcome with emotion, grasps the hardy Ranger’s hand. Though overshadowed by a heart sorrow, it is the hap- piest moment Curt Dash has ever known in all his checkered life. **Come, boys,” —turning to the Regulators-- ‘‘T will help you take the outlaw to the Prairie Home; then I must leave you.” “ Be careful of yourself, captain, be careful. I know you will not spare a single effort in your attempt to rescue her. God grant you success,” ‘*Good-night, colonel; when I meet you again it will be to restore your daughter,” Soon the Regulators, with their prisoner in charge, are on their way to the Prairie Home. Passing out from the grove, our party have not progressed far, when they are suddenly brought to a stand-still by the rapid approach of a horseman. Then the Dead Duelist, or what- ever he is, rides down upon them, Always startled by his appearance, they are no less so now. But as he comes without menacing, goes without molesting, they quickly recover their self-possession, and continue on. ‘“‘God grant we may yet solve that mys- tery,” exclaims Curt, as the strange rider dis- pears, Every mind in the party echoes the words. The Prairie Home, selected as the most fit- ting place to keep the prisoner, is soon reached. In response to their summons at the door, silence alone answers. Where is Burley? is the question formed upon every pair of lips; but before it finds ut- terance, the body of the Dead Duelist’s victim is seen lying a short distance off. No need to inquire more for Orman Burley. In silence they turn from their lifeless friend, and quickly force an entrance into the build- g. ‘‘ Well, boys,” says Curt, ‘‘I must leave you now. Don’t let the outlaw escape you; but give him what he deserves at sunrise, Don’t delay longer. It would be better, perhaps, were it done now, at once.” ‘“‘ Hold on, cap’en,” cries Gil Rey, “‘don’t go alone. Some o’ us can be spared, who’d be right glad to go with you.” ‘‘Thank you; but Iam impatient to be off. You can come as soon as you choose after taking care of yonder brute. If I don’t return before, meet me at the Black Gulch two hours after sunrise.” Without another word, the Regulator chief hurries to the stable, leads out Vall Deckers’ blood-bay, mounts him, and rides away for the Red Lands, heading across Chester plain. ‘The cap’en’s gone clean crazy ’vout Miss ‘* Jess soon’s we rope Bessie,” ejaculates Gil. this cuss, we must foller him. Mighty afeerd he’ll run inter trouble. He hain’t hisself.” To a good portion of Chesterville sleep is a stranger to-night, and the minutes drag away like hours, save to the outlaw under strong guard at the Prairie Home, awaiting his doom, sullen and silent. Curt Dash has been gone scarcely twenty minutes, when a horse gallops madly up to the Prairie Home. All flecked with foam, and panting for breath, ’tis Deckers’ blood-bay. Like wildfire it spreads, but nothing can be found of its rider, the Regulator chief. Two hours later, or just as the first rays of daylight are falling upon Shelby, Colonel Ray- mun and Gil Rey, passing out of the growth northeast of the chaparral, see a lot of dark objects rising and falling from one particular spot on the plain. Half realizing what they are to find, the twain hurry to the place; and _as they near it, a flock of vultures, with angry screeches, fly away from the form of a man, already disfigured by their filthy beaks. “My God! ’tis Curt Dash!” cries Colone! Raymun, first to recognize the body of the Regulator chief. He had been shot, and the livid hue of the wound tells by a copper bul- let. “Terrible! terrible!” almost groans the colonel. ‘* What next?’ Well may Colonel Raymun ask the question. Nine of Chesterville’s sturdiest men have gone down in this same mysterious way, two others are on the brink, and still two more are miss- ing, with fates unknown, and another has been found a traitor, an outlaw and a murderer. His own child, too, is in the clutches of un- principled foes. This is the darkest hour Ches- terville ever knew. May it be that which precedes the dawn. CHAPTER XXV. THE DELAYED EXECUTION. BLACK WAYNE is a captive at the Prairie Home. Around the building in which the outlaw is confined a great crowd has centered. A crowd not only anxious and excited, but furious. True Bill, standing by his wounded friend, who had been removed from the noise and tur- moil of the tavern to his home, hears the intel- ligence with an almost fiendish satisfaction. Between the sturdy Regulator and his com- panion there exists a tie far stronger than the common bond ef friendship, uniting man and man, “D’ye hyar thet, Rock, me boy? They’ve got ther varmint, and he’s got ter suffer. Reckon [’ll go up an’ see ther fun, ef ye hev ne objection.” Rock is far too low to even notice his friend’s speech, ‘They say it is Vall Deckers who is Black Wayne,” remarks a companion-watcher. ‘Vall Deckers Black Wayne?’ cries Bill, in surprise; ‘‘thet can’t be so. It am unpossible.” ‘But he is,” persists the other. ‘‘Wal, I’m dead beat! Howsumever, thet h’ists the mystery a leetle. He being one of the outlaws, of course we c’u’dn’t do nothin’. Sh’u’dn’t s’posed he’d hev handled Rock so, though. But to speak the truth, I never did think much o’ thet Deckers.” A moment later Bill is on his way to join the clamorous gathering. “Bring the outlaw out! bring him out! We want to see him!” cries one of the mad throng. ‘‘-Yes! yes!” comes the chorus, A dozen stalwart men rush forward for that purpose. “Hold!” commands Gil Rey, standing in the doorway, holding his rifle in his hands, with unwavering determination; “the first man who tries to enter here, dies! Cap’en Dash said he should swing at sunrise, and swing then he shall! But I say thet he shan’t be touched afore; and te do it ye must walk over my dead body !” ‘Shoot ’em both!” “ Lynch ’em!” ‘é Rope 4am !”? Such are the cries taken up by the infuri- ated mob, till it seems as if they will tear the building to the earth, to accomplish their pur- But, once Gil Rey has made up his mind, all Shelby cannot move him. The crowd know this, and no one seems to be willing to risk his life as the first mover in the attempt. ‘‘ What do you mean, Gil?” cries True Bill, who has succeeded in gaining the mountaineer’s side. ‘‘Why don’t you let ’em take the var- mint out, an’ give him what he deserves?” ‘Time enough, Bill. Cap’en Dash said rope — at sunrise; an’ then I’ll be one to help do i “But why wait till then? They are getting onpatient; an’ ’sides, we warnt ter go on ther trail. Ye are a fool, Gil Rey! an’ look ot ye don’t git rubbed out fur this.” Without seeming to notice the insolent speech—almost threat—of his quondam 1. end and companion, the mountaineer replies: ‘‘T don’t care ef Vall Deckers is the meanest outlaw in all Texas; he saved my life yester- day, an’ I hain’t fergot it yet. He’s merely asked to live to see the sun rise once more, an’ he shall, or Gilman Reynolds don’t!” ‘Ye promised him thet, Gil?’ sé Yes. ”? ‘Then ’'m with ye.” Without another word, Bill takes a position by the side of Gil Rey, and the two face the crowd in defiance, though it seems like facing death. But the mob, as if awed by this cool and determined bravery, gradually becomes less furious. It is true a couple of shots can clear the way for their purpose; but, thank God, they have not quite come to that yet, Still, the abatement proves but a lull. ~ Others continually joining add fuel to the flames; and soon the clamor bursts forth again, with increased fury. Inside the building, the prisoner trembles as he hears the furious outcry. Herealizes that there is no hope! Even if the crowd is stayed until sunrise, it will be but a few minutes now. ‘‘Can’t you make any terms with them?” he asks of Gil, ‘* No!” comes in reply; ‘they are like mad bufflers.” ‘‘Tell them I want a moment’s talk with you. Then, they can do their worst,” A shout of derision is the only answer to the request. “The sun is rising!” ‘ With the cry the mad horde rush for the oor. Gil Rey has kept his word. But, a moment later, he is swept aside, and the outlaw is drag- ged out, like a beast to its slaughter. Now follows one of those scenes which have so stained the record of our American Border. But here we must make due allowance; and when we consider the character of the man they are dealing with, and when we realize what he has done against them and theirs, let us not judge, Perhaps we should have acted likewise. Without delay the doomed man is carried beneath the live-oak. Then a rope is noosed around his neck. There has been no thought of giving him a trial, for none seemed needed; and not even giving him the chance to say a single intelligible word, the excited crowd rush the terrible proceedings. The rope is thrown over a limb of sufficient hight, and willing hands seize it, ready for the signal to swing their victim into eternity. With a despairing look, the outlaw turns up- on the crowd, and seems about to speak, when the fatal word is given, andthe cord straight- ens. But suddenly a wild, unearthly laugh sends a thrill of terror through the throng, and the men holding the rope, as if paralyzed, pause, Jt came from the grave of the Dead Duelist! Soon the hoof-strokes of a horse are heard approaching—coming nearer and nearer, and still no horseman isin sight! Nothing but empty space meets their gaze, Near to the crowd the horseman seems to stop. Then another laugh and the spang of a rifle breaks upon the air, quickly followed by a sharp, piercing cry, and then the hoof-strokes seem receding—going further and further away, till they finally near the solitary grave by the chaparral, when they instantly cease, Awhile the crowd is literally stupefied., The outlaw awaiting kis doom is now the most self-possessed man under the live-oak. The people have nearly recovered from their shock, and are about to turn to finish the exe- cution, when again, as if fate seemed bent on delaying the deed, hoof-strokes are heard; and then a horseman is seen coming over the plain near upon them. This is no phantom. The horse bears a double burden. Oneis a woman, quickly recognized as Bessie Raymun. The other is a man, and—it can’t bel—if we had not seen him lying cold and stark on Chester plain scarcely thirty minutes since, we would affirm that it is Ourt Dashl : Eomichboo .@___-,, - ee — com ©