Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 97 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

& . would have liked to talk alone with the girl Peggy, to find if she really was as superior as she looked; and to let her know he lhked her, and pitied her; but theywomen were like Cer- berus, and effectually guarded the golden fruit. Atevery attempt he made to get near her, or on the same side of the room, one of these would foil his wish. He was certain, at last, that the girl had something she wished to say to him; 4.and he would have given a five-dollar gold piece to know what it was. He was obliged to give up the hope when his hostess hinted to him that it was time to retire. For the last fifteen min- utes Peggy had been absorbed with an old rag- bas which looked like a speller, and paid no attention to him. ‘She can read, then,” he thought; and as he was requested to ‘‘turn in,” in no ceremonious manner, he said, ‘*Good-night, Peggy,” and moved out into the front room, where he took his carpet-bag and began to ascend the ladder, to which he was pointed, as leading to his place of rest. “Td really like a light a few moments,” he said, insinuatingly, to the woman. ‘I always hate a few words in my diary before I go to “ Pee bring that candle!” shouted her mother, and Peg brought it meekly. Asshe gave it to the guest, she pressed something else into his nak. Instantly comprehending that she wished the act to pass unnoticed, he covered_the little wad of paper with the end of the candle, thank- ed her, and went up the ladder. “Yer bag’s right heavy—shan’t I tote it for yo? ckon thar’s shiners in it,” had been the unpleasant remark of one of the group, as she handed up his baggage. ‘‘ Nothing but stones,” he said, quickly. ‘‘ I’m a geologist, and I always have my pockets and bag full of specimens.” ‘Tell that to the wolves,” she answered, with a sly laugh. is curiosity was intense to learn what had been mysteriously given him, Placing his wooden eandlestick on the floor, he knelt before it insuch a position that should any prying eyes be lifted above the ladder, they could not dis- cern the nature of his occupation. He then ex- amined his new possession. It was a leaf torn out of the old spelling-book, and over it were written, in rude foatewa, with a piece of coal, a communication which it took him some time to decipher. It had evidently been composed with an effort. A cold shiver crept over him as he began to make it out. It ran thus: “Do you know whar you are? This howse is the Harpes. They ur gone away; but wil be balk: late to nite, If you ur here they wil kil you. Clere out if you kin, and dont forgit Peggy who wil be kiled mebby for tellin’. If I’m not kiled try and come bak with help and tak me away. I’m not thare dauter. I was stole when I was ate years old. I could rite som then but I'v most forgot how. I’ve run away three times, but they got me agin. You look kind—so I tel you this. Dont come unles you ar shure you kin get me oph.”’ The bravest of the brave might have been ex- cused for feeling a chill of horror creep over him, at finding himself thus shut up in the very den of the terrible Harpes. No reader of the history of Kentucky but is faxniliar with their se neg ig They were, or yopresented them- selves to be, brothers, who appeared in Ken- tucky about the year 1793, spreading death and terror wherever they went, They had with them three women, who were treated as their wives, and several children, with whom they traversed the mountainous and thinly-settled — of Virginia into Kentucky, marking heir course with blood. Their history is won- derful, as well from the number and variety as the incredible atrocity of their adventures. Passing rapidly through the better-settled — of Kentucky, they proceeded to the coun- y south of Green river, which, at that time, was just beginning to be inhabited. Here they soon acquired a dreadful celebrity. Neither avarice, want, or any of the usual inducements to crime, seemed to govern their actions. A savage thirst for blood—a deep-rooted malignity against human nature, could alone be discovered in their conduct. They murdered every de- fenseless being who fell in their way, without distinction of aze, sex, or color. In the night, they stole secretly to the honest settler’s cabin, slaughtered its inhabitants and burned their dwellings; while the farmer who left his homg by day, returned to witness the dying agonies of his wife and children and the conflagration of his possessions. Plunder was not their ob- ject; travelers they robbed and murdered, but from the inhabitants they took only what would have been freely given them; they destroyed The Outlaw Brothers. without having suffered injury, and without the prospect of gain. Females, children and ser- vants no longer dared to stir abroad; unarmed men feared to encounter a Harpe; and the soli- tary hunter, as he trod the forest, looked around him with a watchful eye, and when he saw a stranger, picked his flint and stood upon the de- fensive. The spoils of their dreadful warfare furnished them with the means of violence and of escape. Mounted on fine hors«s, ney piunged into the forest, eluded pursuit by frequently changing their course, and appeared unexpect- edly, to perpetrate new enormities, at points dis- tant from those where they were supposed to lurk. On these occasions they often left their wives and children behind them. So says the careful historian of characters so black that otherwise we should not dare paint them, It is not strange that the young traveler, albeit brave, self-possessed, and armed with a pair of potee and knife, should shucder at wre iimself in the house of the Har He glance about him nervously, and again read over the charcoal scrawl. Although a traveler, and from the East, he was not unfamiliar with the State he was tra- versing; having been out once before, and spent the better part of two years in land-surveying. It was to look after the interests of the vast quantity of land he had earned as a surveyor— land which promised to make him immensely wealthy within a few years—that he was now journey me through this wild, half-settled dis- rict. Everywhere, since he entered the West, he had learned of the terrible brothers; they were the talk over tavern-fires and by farmers’ hearths; and he, though full of courage, had given more than one look behind him that very day, thinking he heard the distant sound of horses’ feet. Thoughts were pressed so rapidly upon _his brain that they almost made him dizzy. This explained that strange omnium gatherum of stirrups, bridles, saddles, portmanteaux, etc., under the beds, down-stairs—the rifled property of victims, trapped, some of them, like himself. No wonder the faces of those fearful women looked cruel and brutal, debased as they were by such associations. He understood, now, something strange and startled in the expression of the young girl—a wild look, which had some- times passed over her otherwise sweet counte- nance. No doubt she had no sympathy with the peo- ——— ee -_-_——-— - ~- — -_ ee could be easily read; and then, just as the flame expired, he removed two or three small articles from the bag to his pockets, and abandoned the rest of his property. Going to the top of the ladder, he called out, in a cheery, innocent voice: ‘* Hallo! ladies, may I come down? I hear my horse making some fuss, and I’ll have to look after him. I guess the other horses are quarreling with the stranger; and I'd better tie him further away.” Then, as they gruflly gave consent to his re- appearance, he crawled down the ladder, rub- bing his eyes and saying, peevishly; “That horse of mine is always getting into trouble with his neighbors, It’s too bad to be called out of bed when a feller’s so tired and sleepy he can’t keep his eyes open.” _ The women had none of them retired, which induced him to think they intended to wait up for the men; and therefore that these might be home sooner than Peggy had intimated. They eyed him suspiciously; and by the dim light of one dip, they looked dangerous and savage as men. © understood that the three rifles in a corner Of the room were loaded. The fact that he had left his carpet-sack up-stairs lulled any suspicions they might have entertained, and he was permitted to pass out. ‘* Peggy, won’t you come and hold a light for me? | lf the horses are untied, Pll have to have one. “That she won’t,” responded her pretended mother, sharply. ‘‘It’stime gals were in bed. If you need a candle, I'll hold it.” She went to get one as she spoke. Here was adilemma. If she went with him to the stable, how could he saddle his own horse and another, under her surveillance? He opened the door, and pone as if he had just discovered it: ‘*Why, how bright the moon is! Really, I shall not need a light at all, ma’am, and you need not trouble yourself.” Peggy, as if some instinct told her what was wanted, stepped to the door and looked out, giving him the opportunity of slipping the paper into her hand. Gayly humming a tune, he rt toward the stable; the girl pretending to look at the moon, read the paper. ‘‘Come in, Peg, and shut that door. One would think you was cracked after that young man. The girl obeyed; closing the back door, and thus concealing the traveler’s proceedings, but ple about her, but was obliged to live in the | going coolly to the front door, and sitting down | on the step, gazing up at the moon, as if she had that she had several times attempted to escape | not a thought but that it was big and bright. midst of scenes which she loathed. The fact from them, proved that, as she grew older, and comprehended more of what she saw and heard, her pure soul shrunk from contact with if. Poor girl! What would her ultimate fate be? He could not think of it without distress; neither | hero, and glided to the corner, eould he make up his mind to abandon her, penne to be punished for warning him to eave. : : At first he decided that he would go boldly down, call Peggy, mount her behind him on his horse, and break for the deep woods. For he knew ‘that of course this was not a permanent residence, and that perhaps by the time he was ready to return with a proper escort to secure her release, the family might be hidden in some remote wilderness which would baffle his search, They would pack up, on the morrow, knowing themselves discovered, and fly to a new den. Yet, even did they get away from the house successfully, how would he and his companion continue their flight along that narrow bridle- yath, which was not any too well marked to be cept by daylight? If the men returned soon, familiar as they were with the woods, they would easily overtake their prey. One thing, certainly, was in his favor, and, as he thought of it, his heart bounded with joy. The moon was at the full. It would shine, all night, in the cloudless summer heaven. With Caleb King, to think was to decide. CHAPTER III. THE NIGHT FLIGHT. THE little tallow dip fluttered and sputtered in its wooden socket; it would burn but a mo- ment longer. Caleb opened his carpet-bag and transferred from thence what coin was in if to his pocket; looked at his pistols, to see if they were in order; loosened his knife, saw by his watch that it was already ten o’clock of the brief June night. He then wrote on a slip which he tore from his note-book: ‘‘Come out to the stable in five minutes. I sir 1] eee, ee EEEEEEEEEEOEOEOOEOEEeeeeeeeee so be ready to go, and wish your company. Wh» I whistle, run like’a deer, no matter what they sa) This he printed, rather than wrote, so th : In less than five minutes she heard a low whistle just around the corner of the house; her 1eart was in her throat, and suffocated her, but she forced it down by an effort worthy of a There stood the stranger, with two horses, which he had ‘saddled and bridled,” ‘‘all ready for flight,” anc led out softly from the stable. ‘Can you ride?’ he whispered. +e Yes,” ‘‘ Mount, then, and go to the east.” She sprung into the saddle without help—in one half-minute had all this been accomplished. ‘ Peg,” called a furious voice at the door, ‘¢‘Peo, where are you?” “* Here /” answered the sturdy voice of Caleb King, ‘‘ &ind good-by to you, ma’am.” And the two riders darted out of the covert, close to the garments of the astonished woman. A curse was the last thing they heard, as they bounded into the road ane dashed along, the i leading and the girl keeping close be- 1ind. ‘We are safely out of that, anyhow,” he said, after they had left the house out of sight. | ‘Yes, but I’m afraid of worse,” said Peggy, coming alongside, ‘‘ Unless ’'m mistaken, this is the road they were to come home. We shall meet ’em, I’m sure.” ‘‘ The men?” ée Yes. ? “* Keep a stout heart, Peggy. When we hear or see them coming, we’ll conceal ourselves in the forest until they pass by.” ‘ But they’ll be coming slower than we are going; and they will hear us first, and ride in the woods themselves. They will shoot us as we pass.” ‘That’s well thought of, Peggy—we'll go slower then. We'll not talk much, but will lis- ten hard. But there’s this thing—if they should come home some other way, and take after us, we lose time by going slow.” “Their horses will be tired out—they always are when they get home, and now there’s but one fresh one, since we have the other. If it it | comes to a race we'll beat ’em.” com j00KSs_-com