Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 105 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

os say that, at the nt moment, I am the truest friend you have upon earth—that you are in great danger from secret enemies—that your very life is threatened; and that I alone of Dan Brown of Denver. the happiness and future lives of two lovers, but if his eyes are not opened in the morning, I'll eat my old hat!” Still muttering, but barely above his breath, all men can save you from death, or a fate in- | the young man cautiously approached the build- finitely worse. The danger is great—so great ings. sinking flat upon his stomach as he drew that the remedy must be heroic—but I can and | nearer, but crossing the ground in that awk- will save you, if you only consent to trust me wholly, entirely.’ The maiden shrunk back, awed more by his ardent, excited manner his words. He frowned, and stamped one foot impatiently. ‘‘ You doubt your best friend, but I will save a despite yourself,” he said, making a signal hat brought a subordinate to his side. “De six men to accompany me. The rest will remain here under your command. When we have gone, pluck mnt sano but do them no bodily ran rth unless they cut up rusty. In that case, quiet them.” While he spoke, Rachel Trowbridge retreated toward her guardian, who was now standing beside her, head erect, a hard look in his gray eyes that boded mischief. See Moonshine laughed shortly as he noted this. ‘‘ Miss Trowbridge, you will prepare to accom- | pany. me.” ‘(She is my ward, and under my care. She shall not be forced to act against her will while I live and breathe,” uttered Blackwood, in a cold aes resolute tone. “That will not be lo , unless you cease act- ing the fool. Stand aside, and let the lady ad- vance, or by the stars above! I'll bore your brain with a bullet!” As he spoke, Captain Moonshine raised his re- volver, but with a “a snarl of rage, the gaunt lawyer leaped forward, a long fe gleaming in his grasp. The outlaw never flinched, but his pistol ex- emg: and with a horrible, choking sound, zra Blackwood paused in his mad onset. His arms were flung upward. The knife fell from his , and then he sunk in a heap almost at the feet of the outlaw leader. With a short, cruel laugh, Captain Moonshine spurned the body with his foot, then strode for- ward and placed his hand upon the shoulder of the trembling maiden. ‘‘ Come—there has been too much time wasted already. I would gladly have spared you this | scene, but the r fool brought it upon him- Sick with horror, and her heart filled with a nameless terror, Rachel Trowbridge yielded to his firm p without a word or effort at resis- tance. She was like a helpless bird charmed by a rattlesnake. But the end was not yet. Despite the dread fate which had overtaken Ezra Blackwood there was one among the spectators who resolved the maiden should not be sacrificed, if one man could avert that ee 8 This was Horace Tre , the young man from Boston. He had been a close observer of all outlaw meant the maiden evil. As yet none of the y had been either rob- bed or disarmed, and though the odds against them were terrible, he believed a sudden attack might accomplish wonders. Taking advantage of the outlaw chief’s conversation with Rachel, he first whispered to the miner, bidding him be ready for hot work at the signal, then turned to Jack Gill, whose bold words when confronting Captain Moonshine had strongly impressed him with that worthy’s courage. é ‘‘ We can whip them if we are in dead earn- est,” he whispered, after tay a the subject, “Hold yourself in readiness to back me. I will _make sure of the leader first of all—” At this moment it was that Ezra Blackwood fell before the pistol of his ruthless adversary, and as the out slg ee his hand upon the arm of Rachel to | her away, the young man from Boston gave Jack Gill the signal for work. But then something hard struck him back of the ear, and he was hurled headlong to the feet of Captain Moonshine! CHAPTER II. ‘‘LOVE LAUGHS AT LOCKSMITHS.” On that same night, but nearly forty miles away from the rocky defile in which Captain Moonshine halted the Grenada coach, and some two bours later, certain events were transpiring that closely concern this chronicle. A horseman rode into a small clump of trees which grew upon the western bank of the nar- row river, and dismounting, he tethered his animal to a pendent bough, then glided out of the timber, pausing upon the edge of the moon- = plain. a mile distant his keen eyes could just distinguish a long, low line that he knew was formed by the house, outbuildings and corrals ras ae yoy ~ mo? of el coal i ridge, and one of the most prosperous stock- raisers in that section of Colorado. “If the old rascal was but half-way reason- able, I need not now be acting like a thief in the night,” fell from the lips of the young man ed the cattle ranch. ‘‘ Because he is half on. the question of religion, he must try to —- oe ee ' | | i ward position with an ease and rapidity that spoke volumes for his skill as a scout. There were no lights visible about the prem- ises, and, ap ntly satisfied that there were none of the household afoot, the scout turned and crawled toward one of the corrals, Here he anticipated the test trouble and danger, but he was playing for a high and precious stake, and was fully prepared for what might come. is actions showed that he was thoroughly acquainted with the ground and the internal arrangements of the horse corrals, for he wasted no time in idle motions. He knew that each night Noah Crabtree had all of his horses brought up and corraled, while certain of his herders stood guard over them, aided by several savage dogs. These unusual precautions were necessitated by the great number of thefts which had taken place during the past few months. There ap- peared to be an organi and numerous band of horse-thieves infesting that section, for whom no exploit seemed too Sold or dangerous. As yet, Noah Crabtree’s stock had not been molest- ed, but the blow might come at any hour, and the stern old man had his property under guard both day and night. ‘I'd lay long odds that the boys are dozing, and if the dogs don’t scent me out—” The words had scarcely been formed in his mind before he knew that the dreaded peril was upon him. A low, snarling bark broke the stillness of the night, and a huge dark shape bounded directly toward the scout as he lay upon the short grass in the moonlight. Quick as thought he raised himself to his knees, his right d ing a bared knife, his left arm bent as a to his throat. At the same time he uttered a low, guarded whistle. Doubtless this would have been recognized and obeyed in the broad light of day, though the scout now recognized the dog as one of the worst dispositioned on the ranch; but the faith- ful beast was not to be thus diverted from its duty. Without another sound, like a wild wolf or pee the huge creature launched itself upon he prowling shape, its massive jaws rae 5 upon the man’s arm instead of throat as intend- Nor did a sound the lips of the scout, though he felt the grinding teeth sinking deep and almost meeting in the flesh, but with a swift, deadly thrust, he plunged his long knife _ to the very hilt in the broad breast of the dog, | fairly cleaving its heart in twain. Not a sound came from the lips of the death- ‘stricken animal, and satisfied that the bloody that had transpired, and he believed that the | EE es muscles a pa | giant, te erder aasibly rapidly. as he glided away from the motte and approacb- | work was well done, the scout, leaving the keen blade in its quivering sheath, raised the carcass in his arms and hastened with it to the nearest corral, where he crouched down in the shadows cast by the stout fence. For a short space he listened with painful in- tentness, but as no suspicious sound came to his he drew a long breath of relief. “‘ Sleeping, as I thought, or they would have heard the yelp of that infernal brute!” he mut- tered, giving the carcass a vicious kick as a sharp twinge of pain shot through his lacerated forearm. “ Let them keep it up half an hour longer, and I’ll ask no odds of them.” otting a handkerchief around his arm, which was now bleeding with disagreeable free- dom, the scout rapidly and noiseless| along until at the bars, which, at thiy corral, served the purpose of a gate. Not a little to his aaaet, though it was no more than he might have expected, the night- walker discovered a human form ag j against one of the stout posts. The guard, if such he could be called, was seated upon the ground, his head thrown back, an occasional snore proclaim- oe soundness of his slumber. riping the back of his blood-stained knife between his teeth, the scout crept forward noiselessly until close before the sleeping sen- tinel, then fastened a deadly gripe upon his e throat. ‘Not a word or a sound from your lips, or I'll carve your heart to the core!” he hissed sharply as the astounded fellow awoke. “I'll do you no harm if you are sensible, but you’ll be grub for the coyotes if you attempt to raise an alarm.” Taken completely by surprise, and finding himself powerless in the grasp of one whose to the strength of a resigned himself to his throat with one band, the scout removed the weapons from his belt and cast them aside “ You know who I am,” he added, ‘“‘T don’t want to hurt you, too far to be foiled now. am ke ind and gag you. The other boys will find you in the morning, safe enough.” e inevitable. Still claspin | args Sy of that uttered b I have 3 ‘‘ A hoss-thief, Will Wilder—I didn’t think it oo’ you !? ‘I mean to borrow a horse, but you can tell old Noah that he will find it to-morrow at Grenada. Now open your potato-trap—so!” While speaking, Wilder was dexterously bind- ing the luckless herder, and now applied a gag that would effectually prevent any wes gg? Then, leaving him still propped up against the fence, the scout lowered the bars and entered the corral. There were a dozen or more horses in the small inclosure, and Wilder found little diffi- culty in securing a certain one of the number, lacing upon it a halter which he unwound m around his waist. Hitching the animal to the fence, he passed outside and silently stole up to the house. He lost no time in idle searching, but proceeded direct to where a side-saddle and bridle were lying, as though placed there for his especial benefit. Securing these, Wilder hastened back and placed them upon the selected horse, then led the animal slowly away toward the distant motte, keeping carefully in line with the corral which he knew was guarded only by a bound and helpless man. As quickly as prudent he increased his pace, soon leaving the stolen animal] beside his own steed, then rapidly retracing his steps to the cattle ranch. Pausing at the west end of the building, Wil- der picked up several small pebbles and tossed them upward against the window under the eaves. Almost immediately it was raised, and the dimly outlined figure of a girl became visi- ble. A brief interchange of signals, then the window was lowered. Wilder passed around the building, his pulses bounding with a mad exultation, as he saw the form of his loved one emerge from the rear door, then pause as if ys ow, prudence of the important step she was taking. But hedid not give her a chance to retreat if such had been her thought. Leaping — vous arms aroun his heart. ““My darling—my brave, noble girl!” His lips sought hers with a passionate warmth that seemed to frighten the maiden, but she could not draw back. With a gentle force he was drawing her away from their dangerous proximity to the house, toward the motte. Once or twice she seemed forward, he wound his ner- her, and clasped her close to as often did the ardent lover cut short the mv - on the point of uttering some remonstrance, on mur by the warm application of his lips hers. But their flight was not to be wholly without interreption. When only a few rods from tl:e house, there came to their ears a sound the the hound with whom Wilder had fought, and turning, he ems ee a wolf-like shape darting swiftly toward im. With an angry exclamation that sounded suspiciously like an oath, Wilder pushed the maiden behind him, then drew his knife and prepared to meet the fierce brute. Straight at his throat the bloodhound was leaping, when Ruth Crabtree glided between, one hand uplifted, uttering a guarded but clear cry. As if by magic the ferocious creature was checked in its mad rush, and crouched low down upon its belly, its threatening snarl changed to a whining sound. ‘* Back, Music!” uttered the girl, speaking as sternly as was possible for her gentle nature. ‘‘ Back to the kennel!” The bloodhound cowered still lower, but made no further sign of obedience. Wilder laughed shortly. “Looks as though the brute suspected the truth—that its master was on the point of losing his dearest treasure.” This was an unlucky speech to make at that moment, for it —_ the maiden courage to utter what she had before attempted in vain. “‘ Will, forgive me—but 1 cannot do it!” she re) “Let me return while there is yet time. It isa sin I am committing in thus flee- ing like a thief from my nts’ roof. No good can come of it—only evil! Let me return, and let us wait in hopes. We are young—our love is so tender and true that its rew must come in good time, if we are smd ge There were few things whic ill Wilder would have refused the fair pleader, but this was one of them. What lover would have yielded, with perfect bliss but a short distance ahead—blank despair behind? Again he pressed the maiden to his broad bosom, and in passionate words reasoned with her. They would sound incoherent if placed on per, but they were eloquence itself when breathed in the ear of one who loved and was beloved. He had a sound basis to reason on, too. Noah Crabtree, the father of Ruth, was a man who should have been born two centuries earlier, for he would have been a shining light among the austere, religion-crazed Puritnns. Earnest, sincere and well-meaning, his children. grew up to fear, rather than love him. The Gomicbooks i com