Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 90 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

<L & single reason for the change, you almost igno: him, But, ah! let me see; if I remembc f.,uuy, is aiteration began about the tim: that young Will Manners rescued you from the Rio Burte. Tell me, is it because you fancy another that the offer of Curt Dash is about to be rejected?’ We hear no reply, but a telltale blush an- swers what speech does not. ‘Can it be that you prefer Will Manners to Captain Dash? I have nothing against Mr. Manners; as far as I know, he may be a good fellow; but he is young, inexperienced, and poor; he lacks, too, the captain’s energy and firmness of character.” ‘‘But, father, he is honest and willing to try for himself.” ‘‘He may be, but we are hardly competent to judge, as it has been so short a time since we have known him. We do know the cap- tain, and why should we throwaway a cer tainty for an uncertainty? I will say there is not a man in ali Chesterville whomI should rather have for—” The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps interrupted the speech; and the next moment, the subject of their conversation, Curt Dash, appears upon the scene, with a— _ eg pardon, colonel, Miss Raymun. I did not intend to intrude; but they told me I should find you in the grove, and thither I was bound.” ‘‘No need of apology, captain, for there has been no transgression, | assure you. In fact, Bessie and I were expecting your arrival, and our conversation was of you.” “Ah!” exclaims Curt, with a smile; ‘I can only hopes it was for my good.” ‘it was of a matter of vital importance, which not only concerns you, but the future happiness of my daughter. We were speaking of that answer which I suppose you are ex- pecting to receive. I can ouly hope, sir, it will . be as favorable as you wish; but, as a gentle- man, do not abuse this confidence.” A polite apology for withdrawing, from the eolonel in his usual brusque way, and the Rewulator chief is alone with his love-—alone witu his fate. ‘‘ Yes, Bessie—Miss Raymun,” he cries, as the last sound of the colonels footsteps die away in the distance, “‘ your father was right; T have come for that answer you promised me to-day; and, judging by his tone, I am to ex- pect a favorable one, Say, am I hoping in vain?” A moment of painful embarrassment fol- lows, broken at length by Miss Rayimun’s say- ing, in a low, beseeching tone: “Oh, forgive me, Captain Dash, but much as it pains me to say it, I can not give you a favorable answer.” _ As the words so different from those ex- pected fall from the other’s lips, a shadow passes o’er the handsome features of the Regu- jator; but ina moment it is gone, when, seiz- ing her hand, and dropping upon his knees be- fore her, he cries in a quick, earnest voice: ‘Do not say more, lentreat you. If it can not be ‘ yes,’ do not say no!’ It may be folly, it may be wrong, but I love you! I love you!” Another moment of silence follows, as em- barrassing as the first, when the speaker anxiously continues: ‘‘Pardon me, Bess—Miss Raymun—TI be- seech you! I have been too hasty. You shall have more time—a week, a month, a year, to decide in; only give me hope. But speak, and say that I have not offended you!” ‘*No, no, not that, Captain Dash; but your words pain me, I—I can not answer you to- day.” **T will not ask you to, though I was ex- pecting it; and you have given me reason to hope tora favorable one. If it were not rude, I would ask you why this change; but I will bide my ti‘ne, hoping, ah! knowing, that it will not be in vain. You promise me this?’ he half questions, half answers, : . ‘*T can not, can not promise! The time has been so short, and our acquaintance so brief, tuat I am not justified in giving you any hope, bat I will try, try—” The Dread Rider. Speech gives way to emotion, and th. thought remains unspoken, ‘Forgive me for the pain I have cause: you,” cries Curt, with increasing warmth; ‘‘but I feel that my case is not hopeless. I do not blame you for hesitating to answer one whose past history is so unknown as mine. But my love for you drove all this from my mind. It is true, I have come to you compar atively a stranger, for hitherto I have been compelled to remain silent upon the events of my past life. But, thank God, the time has at last come when I can throw off this cloak of silence and stand in my true character. Mine has been a strangely checkered career. Little of the pleasures of life have | known. Thrown upon the cold mercies of the world when but a youth; disowned and driven from home by my own father; an outcast, branded with the crime of another; a hunted, Cain-marked fugitive from justice—it is little wonder that I have grown reckless and nomadic, that my fel- low men have styled me callous and turned against me, until I have come to care for naught but excitement to drown the cares and sorrows of life. But. thank Heaven, a brighter day is dawning. When spurned by parents and scorned by friends, I took an awful oath that I would never know rest or peace until! the hand which blasted my life should meet its punishment. To fulfill this vow has been the great objoct of my life; and at last it seems almost accomplished, as I have found the very person for whom I have searched so long. | must prove his guilt to the world, and then I can return to the scenes of my boyhood, and remove the dark cloud that hangs over my name. Now that you know the substance of my past history, do not judge me harshly. I know that I have erred, but circumstances have driven me toit. A strange fatality has followed me through life like an evil thing. But its influence is nearly spent, and with your aid I will conquer it altogether, and become a better man—a man worthy of your esteem, whose greatest desire shall be for your happi- ness. It is true, I can not offer you at present even a name, for I acknowledge the one I bear is assumed; but I shall soon be able to prove to the world my innocence of the guilt of an- other, and reclaim my own. Then, with your love, I shall indeed be happy, and with the wealth I possess, for I am not so penniless as some have thought, the pleasantest home in Shelby county shall be ours; or, if you choose, we shall go back to the old homestead where I passed my childhood. It shall all be as you say, only remember that in your hands lies my future—upon your decision rest the prospects of my life. And when I come to you again for an answer, after I have cleared my name from the stigma that now hangs over it, I know you will not, can not refuse me; and then the brightest dream of my life will be realized. Do not forget the pleadings of my first and only love.” As the impetuous Regulator ceases speaking, he rises to his feet, and pressing the other’s hand to his lips one moment, bids her ‘ good- day,” and is gone before she has time to utter a single word. Left alone, our heroine seems to watch the space where her almost rejected lover had stood, until, as if overcome by some unseen power, she falls back upon the seat in a flood of tears, murmuring: ‘Oh, Father in Heaven! guide me aright in this, for I know not my duty. I love him! and yet that other face and form will come before me! Can it be he cares for me? No! I must not think so. He will never know the sacrifice I make. Father is right, and I will do as he bids—accept the proud Regulator- chief—so noble! so true-hearted! I must! I will!” — CHAPTER IV. THE PHANTOM RIDER. Arter leaving Bessie Raymun, Curt Dash sought his horse, which he had left at the stable; and vaulting into the saddle, he rides leisurely out upon Chester Plain. Rides leis- Y ' urely because 10 best suits his mood. Muried in deep meditation, hardly noticing his course, he allows his steed to wander along the border of the plain ina westerly direction, until the eolonel’s hacienda is left far behind, and he is nearing the narrow belt of sparsely-grown, and low-limbed timber that skirts the banks of the Rio Burte. With an exclamation of sur- prise, he draws reins, and is about to turn back to the Prairie Home, whtn suddenly, ringing out upon the still afternoon air with startling distinctness, comes the sharp report of a rifle, and a bullet whistles by his head uncomfortably near. Then comes the click of a lock, the crash as of a falling body, and the sound of hurrying footsteps. Though suddenly aroused from the reverie into which he had fallen, Curt Dash is instant- ly himself; and snatching his ever ready rifle rom its wonted position, he dashes into the timber, regardless of the consequence. As he passes the outer line of the growth, a man leaps from the shrubbery that overhangs the river, and with a wild triumphant shout rushes for an object a short distance above, brandish- ing over his head the gleaming blade of a huge bowie. But, suddenly, he hears the rapid ap proach of the Regulator, and like one frustrat- ed in his designs at the moment of success, he turns upon his intruder with an angry impre- cation, to find himself confronted by the muz- zle of a rifle looking him ful. in the face. A wild cry of terror escapes his lips, when re- gardless of the menacing attitude, regardless of the warning words, he turns like a fright- ened deer and plunges into the thicket, disap- pearing from view in the twinkling of an eye, though barely escaping the fire of Curt’s rifle. Puzzled at the strange proceedings of the Mexican, for such he evidently was, Burt is undecided how to act, until his attention is attracted by a recumbent form a short dis- tance ahead, which soon rises to the upright position of a man, and comes forward, exclaim- ing: “By Randel Rock, Cap! ye saved my ha’r! But where’d the cuss go to? I sh’u’d jest like to have one fair draw on him!”’ The speaker isa man young in years, fully six feet in hight, well formed, as agile asa parther, as strong as a lion, witha sort of reck- less, devil-may-care air. Dressed in buckskin, moccasins and all, beautifully beaded, and wearing upon his head the never-to-be parted with sombrero, his jet-black hair falling down his back in long, glistening ringlets, which a school-girl might well envy, with a heavy mustache and goatee of the same hue, clearly- cut, handsome, though sun-bronzed features, showing a daring almost to desperation, and armed to the teeth, so to speak, with a brace of heavy revolvers and a huge bowie in his belt and a double-barreled rifle now in his hands, he presents a wild, brigandish-looking appearance. But all this is in reality only mere show, as far as it concerns his character, for underneath this dashing exterior beats as true a heart as Texaseverknew. He is known —we say known because really he has no pa- rental name, as he was picked up by an old mountaineer and guide, when but a child, on the great Texan plain near “Randel Rock,” and from this simple fact he is known as Rock, one of those strange waifs so often found in border life. Te ‘‘ Hullo, Rock! that you?” cries Curt, evi- dently surprised. ‘Wal, I reckon it is, Cap! but, where’s that cussed Greaser gone? D’ye think ye hit ’im?” ‘‘No, Rock, I don’t; he is safe I daresay ere this. It would be useless to follow him. But, what is the meaning of all this? I came nearer losing my head from tha shot than is pleas- ant, whoever fired it.” . “The deuce!” exclaims Rock; ‘‘but it was the carelessness of that sneaking yaller-skin! Ye see, I hev bin out scrimigin’ round a little, jest for exercise; an’ thinkin’ the old woman might be gitting oneasy, I war steering for home, when all ter wunst up kerslap comes that infernal Greaser with his shooter, an’ let ber hev right at me! But the cuss warn’t worth a Digger squaw for shootin’ an’ he didn’t come IOO com gs) (E (EO) omy iw