Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 90 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

ral, if it is not asking too much. For your trouble, I give you my noble horse.” ‘‘Have you no message to leave for any one?’ asked Waring, as the other hesitated. ‘‘ No,” answered the mysterious man, almost sadly; ‘‘there is not a single person in the whole wide world to whom it matters whether I live or die,” At last, all, preliminaries are ended; the combatants have taken their places, and the anxious, excited crowd is impatiently waiting for the signal-word to be given, thinking ‘not, caring not, in their excitement, that it is to sign the death-warrant of one or both of the men before them, only wishing to hear it that the suspense may be broken, the result known. Every eye is turned upon the horsemen, con- tinually changing from one to the other, But, not a tremor is seen upon either. Both, alike, seem rediy and waiting for the crisis. They are well matched; the only advantage peing in favor of the Unknown, whose horse is bet- ter trained than the Texan’s high-spirited steed; yet, the Regulator is a splendid rider. Standing at an equal distance from either adversary, so as to be heard by both alike, Gil Rey is ready for his part of the work; and ina clear, distinct tone, he commences: *¢ One!” Like a knell, the word rings out with awful distinctness. sé Two!” The duelists clutch their rifles, but show no signs of fear. The silence upon the scene is perfect—the suspense, terrible, ‘¢ Three!” . Clear and distinct the monosyllable breaks upon the stillness, fairly stifling the bated breath of the lookers-on. The silence seems to crush everything; even the air is hot and heavy, Breathless the spectators stand riveted to the spot, until— ce Fire!” The spell is broken; quick almost as the lightning’s flash, the combatants wheel their horses; and as they come into position, each brings his rifle to the shoulder. But quick as fs Curt Dash with his rifle, the Unknown is sven qulcusr; snd before the Regulator can bring his weapon to bear; the other pulls the trigger; asharp spang rings out upon the still morning air. But, oh, stranger! where now is thy vaunted skill? for unuurt, untouched, Curt Dash still sits upon his horse, pale as death, but firm asarock. Instantly the Regu- lator’s cheek presses his rifle-stock; his keen eye glances along its barrel; his finger pulls the trigger—a flash—a ringing report-—and with a low groan his antagonist falls back upon the haunches of his horse, and slips to tne earth. ‘ As the stranger was seen to fall, a murmur of.assent went up from the throng, which soon increased and grew into a mighty shout, re- peated again and again, till the prairie seemed to echo the cry. “Is he dead?” asked Curt Dash, as soon as the applause was over, riding forward to the spot which was now the center of an excited crowd. ‘‘Yes, captain,” answered Mark Waring, who had been the first to reach the stranger’s side, and was already examining his wound; ‘your Shot was a fatal one. A man shot straight through the heart can make but a _ small show for life, I am thinking.” ‘I wish it might haye been different,” said the Texan; ‘‘ but he would have it so.” ‘‘Tut, tut, Cap!” exclaimed the redoubtable Hank Webber, “don’t feel bad for what you done. The quarrel was of One Leg’s own making, and he has been the loser,” The duel was Over; and all seemed satisfied with the result. But with the sober second thought all boisterous rejoicing ceased. The first thought told them that their favorite was safe; the second, that his safety was due to the untimely end of his antagonist. Thus what their friend had gained another had lost, and the thought hushing all enthusiasm, the; clamor was succeeded by silence. After satisfying himself that the wound was The Dread Rider. 3 fatal, Waring carefully replaced the unfortu- nate man’s clothing; and arising to his feet, turned to the company, saying: ‘Well, boys, you know [ promised the stranger that he should have proper burial, if affairs should turn asthey have, Now, if some of you will lend your aid, we will do it at once, unless ”—and he turned to the crowd ~ “‘ there is some one here who isa friend or relative of the dead. If there is, that person will please come forward.” But no one answered the summons; none seemed to know of or care aught for the stran- ger, except that he was a human being; and seeing this, a couple of the Regulators took up his body and bore it away under the lead of Mark Waring, followed by those present, who fell into a long procession, a line of unweeping mourners. During all this time, Qne Leg’s horse had not moved from his tracks; but as he saw his master borne away, he gave a low whinny, and started to follow, when Gil Rey caught him by the bridle. This so frightened the steed that he reared and plunged furiously, till, suddenly, the bridle broke like rotten twine, and slipped from his head. Free! A wild snort, and the roan was fleeing over the plain at a mad gallop. To pursue would be useless, so the discomfited ex-mountaineer was fain to look at the broken bridle, and think of ‘‘what might have been,” With suitable tools and plenty of willing help it was the work of but a few minutes to prepare a grave for the unfortunate One Leg; then his body was placed alongside of the pit, a prayer was offered up for his soul’s salva- tion by a fitting person; then the maimed body was lowered down to its last resting-place, when it was quickly hidden from all by the cold earth: One Leg, the Duelist was at rest! After seeing the body covered with the loose earth, the crowd turned away, many of them seeking the Prairie Home, leaving Waring and another of the Regulators to fill up the grave, which was soon accomplished, when they two joined the others at the general rendezvous of Chesterville, to join in the ‘celebration ” of the victory of Curt Dash, who now stood higher than ever in the estimation of his fol- lowers. But no one cared to think or speak of One Leg, the Unknown, He was a stranger who had died in a duel of his own provoking, and it was not for them to mourn for one who had said, himself, that it mattered not whether he lived or died, Thus commenced and ended that strange duel, not one of all that crowd dreaming that it was but the begining of a terrible epoch in the history of Chesterville. It was soon for- gotten, and the lonely grave by the edge of Chester chaparral ceased to be even a ‘nine days’ wonder.” Alas! many are the graves of unfortunate duelists covered by the long grass of Texas! CHAPTER. III. MAN PROPOSES, WOMAN DISPOSES. THE Prairie Home, owned by one of the leading men of Chesterville, Orman Burley, standing under the shading branches of a huge live-oak in the center of a small tract of prai- rie, a corner of Chester Plain, separated from the main body on the north by the chaparral already mentioned, was rightly named. Like a sentinel it stood, alone—a Prairie Home truly. Its nearest neighbor was a small plan- tation a quarter of a mile to the west, owned jointly by a couple of the Regulators, one our friend Mark Waring, and the other a coming acquaintance, Rock Randel, an ex-plains man better known by the sobriquet of Dandy Rock. Chesterville proper lay half a mile to the south, on the banks of the sluggish Rio Burte, which has its source back somewhere in the Red Lands. Halfa mile tothe east was Conrad Mansion, so called. Athird of a mile nearly to the north of this, and a mile north-east of the Prairie Home, partially hidden from view by the straggling growth of acacias that sur- rounded it, stood the costly residence of the foremost rancheman in Shelby county, and one of the three first settlers of Chesterville, Col, Arthur L, Raymun. And here it is we would nave the reader accompany us in imagination, for this is the home of one whom it is now our duty to introduce. Inthe early dawn of womanhood, Bessie Ray~ mun was the embodiment of perfect health. O€ medium hight, with a symmetrical form, @ fair, pure complexion of a type midway be- tween the blonde and the brunette, and a sweet, tender face with clearly-cut features, with darkly glowing eyes fringed with long, droop- ing lashes, with coral-tinted lips, and cheeks soft- ly flushed with the hue of the rose, with a mass of long, glossy-brown hair falling about her neck and shoulders in becoming negligence, she was as graceful as a gazelle, as light-heart- ed as a bird, as lovely as a flower, and as spirited as an untamed antelope—a true daughter of the frontier—a model for the painter, a theme for the poet. She was an only daughter—beg psrdon, we came near forgetting a certain blue-eyed Alice, an adopted child, whom Colonel Raymun had picked up on Chester Plain, when but a wee bit of a babe, and tenderly cared for, giving: her his name, and allowing her to share every privilege and advantage with his own, and wha was expected to become a daughter in reality when the handsome, manly Walter should re-~ turn from college. So we will say she was the daughter of kind, indulgent parents, sharing: with an adopted sister all their great love and, pride, knowing naught but happiness, and, ap~ parently, a future as bright as the noonday sun Possessing, in addition to her personal charms, a liberal education, and accomplish« ments which the best might well envy, with a fair expectation of bringicg to her husband elect a handsome dowry, it was no wonder that half of the marriageable men of Chester- ville would have willingly laid their all at her feet, but it was a wonder that she—a womam —should have treated them all so nearly alike that even the shrewdest could not tell the favored one, though surmises were rife. To partially unfold the history and mystery of @ young girl’s heart, let us play the part of eavesdropper to a conversation between Col, Raymun and his daughter, in the arbor im front of the house where they have gone. ‘* Well, Bessie,” the colonel is saying, “the captain comes to-day for his answer. I sup. pose you have decided ere this what it will be.” ‘“ Yes, father; my decision was made at the time. In fact, I gave Captain Dash to under stand what he was to expect.” ‘‘What! do you still persist in that absurd aversion to one who is so worthy of your es- teem? Why is it, when Captain Dash offers you so much—all that man can offer woman— that you treat him so lightly?” “Father, although [ highly respect Curtis Dash, I do not, and can not, love him as a wife ought to love a husband. Is not that sufficient reason?” ‘‘Tut, tut, daughter! the captain’s equal is not found in Chesterville. He is all 1 would ask for a son-in-law—a handsome, educated, accomplished, true-hearted, energetic man, with true military bravery and genius.” (We must forgive the colonel if he slightly empha- sizes the last part, as he is every inch a soldier, barely past the prime of life, with an enviable rnilitary record, won in defense of his country, under General Jackson, in his southern cam. paign.) ‘I know of no one 80 worthy of your hand; so throw aside your seruples——[ know they are unfounded—and come to that decision which will be so gratifying to your mother and me, and which I doubt not will prove so satisfactory to yourself,” “Father, you know not what you are ask. ing. It is not through any fault of his that I reject Captain Dash, for I consider him worthy of any woman’s love; but—but—lI do not love him.” ‘‘But why this change, Bessie? There was a time when you manifested a decided prefer ence for the captain, Now, without giving a EOMG qs) IOO