Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 105 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

\ slightest misdemeanor was visited with severe unishment; each childish laugh was greeted y a frown; to sing, whistle or crime. The result ma Ruth grew up a trembling, broken-spirited flower: David, his only son, a meek-faced hypocrite. ) ever until Will Wilder came courting her, had Ruth ventured to have a wish or entertain a thought contrary to the will of her father. But the love that is the heart life of woman, though smothered almost from her birth, now awoke and endowed her with a courage such as she had never known before. Until he met Ruth, Will Wilder had led a rough and not entirely blameless life, though there was nothing very black in his past record, when his surroundings were considered. He was fond of cards and drink. Had been engag- ed in one or two affrays where blood had flowed freely, but had never come under the frown of the law itself. To most Western men, this record would have been leniently looked upon, but not so to Noah Crabtree. In his eyes, Will Wilder was a veri- table child of the adversary, and from the first he had frowned upon the young man’s frequent visits. But, Wilder cared little for black looks, and one day he coolly avowed his love for Ruth, and demanded her hand in marriage. For the first time in his life, Noah Crabtree allowed his strong passions to get the better of him, and, athlete though he was, Wilder found himself like a child in the mes grasp of the enraged father. He was pitc headiong out of the house, and only for the intervention of Ruth, bloodshed would certainly have followed. She sprung between them, and Wilder re- laced the knife he had drawn, and departed at er tearful request. But from the beginning of time, love has laughed at locksmiths, and Will Wilder was all the more determined to win his heart’s idol, for he knew that to do so would be the bitterest blow he could deal the man who had treated him so unceremoniously. Through the aid of David Crabtree, who jumped at the chance of outwitting the parent e both feared and hated, the lover made ar- rangements with Ruth by which they were en- abled to enjoy frequent interviews, none the less sweet from being stolen, and in the end gained her consent to an elopement. They were to flee in the night, ride to Gre- nada, where Wilder had made arrangements for their immediate wedding, then to take the outgoing stage to spend the honeymoon, and await the reconcilement of Noah Crabtree to the inevitable. Fearful of another and more serious interru tion, Wilder gently forced Ruth toward the pare, while arguing with her, unnoticing the ound that crept after them, until a mournful sound caused them both to start. Lifting its nose high in the air, the blood- hound was uttering a long-drawn, lugubrious how] that floated on the night air like the wail of some lost spirit. “Come!” muttered Wilder, with difficulty choking back a bitter curse that rose to his lips. “That infernal brute will rouse the sleepers, and there will be powder burnt in dead earnest if we are overtaken now!” ‘“*No—I must return; itisa warning!” Ruth. ‘I feel that our sin will be bitterly punished—” Es my a cur howling—don’t be superstitious, Ruth. It is too late now to turn k. Nor would you care to do so, if your love was any- thing near as strong as mine.” It was acruel speech, and so he felt it, even as he spoke, but he believed he was uttering it for her own good. Sobbing she sunk upon his bosom, and feeling not the pain in his lacerated arm, he raised her light form from the ground and hastened to- ward the motte. Behind him the hound still howled mournful- ly, as though foreseeing the dread ending of that flight. There was not a drop of superstitious blood in Wilder’s veins, and his only fear was that the mournful sound would awaken the suspicions of Noah Crabtree, or his herders, who were sup- posed to be guarding the corrals. “If they follow, they must kill before they take!” be muttered beneath his breath, as he drew near the timber. Pausing at its edge, he glanced keenly back. The hound was still howling where they had left it, but otherwise all was still. There were no signs of life visible in the direction of the ranch. Surely if the alarm had been given, there would be excited shouts and lights ing around the premises? With a new-born fear, Wilder looked down into the face of the maiden, who had lain so still and silent that he began to be alarmed, but he saw that her eyes were open, and as be look- she sli to the ground, ng erect, though still weak and ne **Say good-by and leave me, Will,” she mur- mured. ‘It is better so. No good can come of our earning a father’s curse—I dare not go r | lay was a | will relent. be easily divined. | battle, and he loves you too dearly to cast you | | any further. Ruth, darling, ina few hours we can reach Dan Brown of Denver. town, where a minister of the gospel is waiting to bless our union, Once married, your father He is too sensible to fight a useless out of his heart because you wedded the man on love. If I thought otherwise—if I believed e would not forgive you—dearly as I love you, darling, I would take you back and go away, to hide my grief as best I could. But 1 know bet- ter. A few days, a month, perhaps; then he will send for us,” Much more he said, tending to the same pur- se, and while hespoke he really believed what e said. Passion blinded him to the truth, and strong love was rae obscuring the bet- ter judgment of the maiden. Her own heart was singing the same sweet tune, and it is not to be wondered at that the ardent lover event- ually gained his point. ith a glad cry he lifted the maiden into the saddle, then turned to his own horse; but at that moment he was confronted by four men with leveled pistols. D5 as rer or by the God of Israel you ie CHAPTER IIT. A ROMANTIC BRIDAL. ‘*Go on boss!” cried Jack Gill, sharply, as Captain Moonshine, startled by the fall of the young man from Boston almost at his feet, wheeled and raised his pistol. ‘1 knocked the hot-headed critter down to save wuss trouble; ’nother minnit an’ he’d’a’ mounted ye like a wild-cat, fer troublin’ the miss, yender.” For a moment the road-agent stood in doubt, and during that time the lives of the prisoners hung upon a hair, but Jack Gill spoke again: ** *T wasn’t through no ye love fer you thet I did it, critter; but the boy was riskin’ the life o’? my wife as well as his own. Only fer her mebbe I mought ’a’ sailed in too, an’ hed a sme o’ the fun, anyway.” This very bluntness served better than a more conciliatory speech. A bold man himself, Cap- tain Moonshine could appreciate the same qual: ity in others. But he had taken a strong aver- sion to the young man from Boston, and made a quick gesture with the hand that was furthest from Rachel Trowbridge. The next instant there was a sharp explosion, and those nearest the spot could see that the young man from Boston gave an involuntary start with the upper portion of his body, then settled back ore « and motionless. One of the outlaws had discharged a revolver point-blank at the unfortunate fellow’s head. Rachel uttered a faint cry of horror, and a deathly sickness came over her as this brutal deed was committed almost at her very feet. Her brain reeled, and she sunk helpless upon the arm of Captain Moonshine. ** Toss that carrion into the bushes, then fetch es the horses,” cried the road-agent, sharp- y: He was promptly obeyed in both respects. Two men rai the limp carcass, gave it a swing or two, then cast it from them into the ms e of a clump of bushes near the rock wall. ‘** Wolf,” added Captain Moonshine, address- the ruffian who had fired the shot, ‘‘ you go through these pilgrims as soon as I am one. Keep them and the hearse here until I re- urn, or you hear from me.” The horses were brought forward while he was speaking, but before he could mount, a strange event occurred. Ezra Blackwood, whom all had supposed dead, raised his head and stared wildly around him. As his bewildered gaze rested upon the uncon- scious form of Rachel Trowbridge, strength re- turned to him like magic and he scrambled to his feet with a sharp cry: ** Kill me if you will, but e her—” ‘ He was leaping toward the road-agent, his bony fingers hooked like bird’s claws, his an features distorted and rendered almost hideous by strong emotion, when several of the outlaws scree upon him, holding him helpless despite is furious oe And Wolf stepped for- ward, baring his long knife, looking inquiringly back at his chief. For an instant Captain Moonshine seemed on the point of giving the fatal signal that would result in forever quieting the troublesome th hes but as a second thought struck him, he cried: ‘‘ Mount the old fool on a horse and fetch him along. He will do for one of the witnesses.” By this time Rachel gave signs of returnin consciousness, and seeing this, Ezra Blackw aided calmer. By pledging himself to give no er trouble, he was not bound in the saddle. Captain Moonshine mounted, and motioned for Wolf to hand hi‘n the captive maiden. She shrunk back with a shudder, and the lawyer called out: “Tf you have a spark of manhood left, let her ride with me. For her sake, I pledge my word of honor, that neither of us e any at- tempt at escape.” ‘‘ Break that pledge, and my next shot will strike closer to the mark,” said Captain Moon- shine, coldly, as he dismounted and lifted Ra- chel to a seat behind her guardian. . —————— ——= No more was said, anda moment later the five outlaws, with their two captives, were riding rapidly away from the - where such a strange drama had been enacted. Their course led up the rocky gorge for a mile or more, then the frowning walls spread out on either hand. The region through which they were poe was a wild and forbidding one, though the harsher features were hidden or softened by the uncertain light of the moon and stars. The trail was a crooked and intricate one, but both horses and riders seemed thoroughly acquainted with it, and rapid progress was made. At the end of nearly an hour’s steady riding, another gorge was entered, and after following this for a few minutes, the outlaw chieftan drew rein and dismounted. ‘‘We are near our journey’s end, and though Ido not believe either of you will dare betray our secrets after what you are yet to see, the laws of our brotherhood oblige me to blindfold ou. Ezra Blackwood seemed to realize the worse than folly of resistance under the circumstan- ces, and without a word submitted to have his eyes covered. Guided by him, Rachel also yielded in silence. There was a strong vein of romance in the oung lady’s composition, and though she still eJt the horror of what had occurred, she was also come interested in the strange drama, of which she felt herself a central figure. When satisfied that the bandages were prop- erly adjusted, Captain Moonshine, with a brief apology for the geen he was taking, raised Rachel in his arms and bore her onward through the gloom. She could hear the footsteps of others following them, but that was all. In what direction they were proceeding, or to what end, she was sublimely ignorant. et, strange as it may appear, she was no longer frightened. Her natural erwin had returned to her, and she felt a greater degree of curiosity than of fear concerning what was to be the end of this strange adventure. From the peculiar echo of the various foot- falls, Rachel at length suspected that they had entered some sort of cavern or underground apartment. A moment later, when Captain oonshine gently removed the bandage from her eyes, she saw that her suspicions were cor- t rect. The underground apartment seemed a very spacious one, but its full extent could only be guessed at. The one oil lamp, sitting upon a covered table near the center, was not powerful enough to light up the entire chamber. But its rays showed a remarkable degree of comfort for such a habitation. The center of the rock floor was covered by a carpet. Scattered around were a number of camp-stools. Upon the table rested a silver water pitcher and goblets; but strangest of all was alarge book—the Holy Bible! Seated at the table, and bearing the ap - ance of having been — the sacred volume, was a tall, spare, gray-haired man, whose countenance, though sad and careworn, was that of a saint on earth, rather than a man such as might have been expected to be found in such company. A single glance at his face gave the iaket a greater sense of security than the pres- ence of a troop of soldiers could have done, — ‘ Miss Trowbridge,” said Captaine Moonshine quietly drawing her aside a few paces, an speaking with an earnestness that could not be wholly feigned, ‘‘all this must appear ve strange and even terrible to you. But in ac ing thus, I have been wholly actuated by a de- sire to preserve you from a terrible peril—to give you a talisman that will effectually guard you against your bitter, ruthless enemies.’ Rachel opened her lips to speak, but he check- ed her. ‘*T know all you would say, but enemies you have, who are plotting against your life, for the sake of obtaining the vast fortune which was left you by your father. How I know this, matters not now. Some day the whole truth will be made known to you. But this I say—and I will swear to its truth by my dead mother’s grave, while kissing yonder sacred book—two men whom you would least suspect, have sworn your death. One is a distant rela- tive who, were you to die before coming of legal age, or unmarried, will fall heir to your fortune. “‘ How I learned of the plot, is too long a story to tell now; enough that before we part you shall be given indisputable proof of the truth of what Isay. Enough that I resolved to save you, if ble. There was only one way in which this could be done. I am an outlaw, up- on whose head a dozen prices are set, with eve man’s hand against me. For that reason could not aaanl you and fight your battles open- ly, as I would dearly like to do.” ‘Why should you take such a eet interest in me, an utter stranger?’ asked Rachel, won- deringly. ‘‘T have met you more than once, though you may have forgotten me; it was while you were oung, and long before Aco well. S) * - S ‘CO - micboo our father died. I. He was the best and trueést-— . | almost the only—friend 1 ever had. I loved Or ° ‘ye +l *%