Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 1061 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

a . bs = —— — ee Cee P — —_—— ee Oe — ~——— - shito, the Mexican girl, with flashing eyes, gazing here and there at the heaps of slain. As the latter neared the circle of Rangers, she saw him who tore her from home, parents and virtue, to deceive her and murder her child before her eyes, and saw, too, he was engaged in a deadly conflict that might lose her sworn revenge, Her features contorted, her eyes flashed with the pent-up passion of years of wrong and maddening misery, and drawing astiletto from her girdle she broke through the ring of Ran- gers, and rushed with the fury of a tigress upon the bandit chief: “He is mine! He has wronged me more than any human being on earth! I bave sworn to have revenge and thus I take it!” Buunding between the flashing blades, gazing into the eyes of her seducer she buried the steel in his breast, and as he fell, stood over him like an avenging angel, the moonlight, filtering through the foliage, casting a halo of silvery light about her queenly figure. At this instant a white-robed girl flew past the Rangers, the word “father!” bursting from ber lips, and Lena Castro was folded in the arms of her loved parent. Then a moment later Duckskin Sam stepped to Castro’s side, leading the insane woman, and “nd addressed the old Castilian. “Den Jose Castro, you have your daughter in your arms, unharmed. Now I restore to you your long-lost wife, Marietta Castro, stolen from this hacienda, once the happy home of you and yours, by the fiend at your feet. Terror and despair unseated her mind; but I think—I sincerely hope—that im time, with the kind care of yourself and your loving daughter, she will recover her senses; and that many happy days are in store for you all.” Juriog the time Sam had been speaking Don Jose gazedin a dazad, bewildered manner at the spirit-like form before him; but when he really comprehended the words of our hero, and those hastily added by his daughter, Lena, the tears burst from his eyes, and he folded the unresisting, long-lost wife to bis bosom. At this moment the fighting Thompsons Came up, bearing a wounded man, whose feeble moan drew the attention of Lena Castro. Despite the blood and powder grimed features she recognized Augustin Siliceo, her betrothed husband. “Lena,” explained Sam, “here is a gentle- man who fought nobly through the desperate charges of the last part of this fierce battle, and he claims your soothing care and attention.” *‘An’ here are anuther what'll put yer in the same persish, liltle pard,” exclaimed Big Foot, mournfully advancing toward our hero, holding, as a woman holds an infant, one of the wounded in his arms, ‘‘ Here are ther piece © black velvit, what saved yer back at ther Sabinas; an’ he’s nigh on ter passin’ his Shecks ) “By heavens, man, not only did he save my fife on the Rio Sabinas; but here, to-night, he received the ball intended for me. Lay him down gently, Wallace. We may be able to save his life. He is a mystery to me, and yet I owe him more than I can ever repay.” Tenderly did Big Foot place the form of Black Bravo upon a blanket, spread out by Sam ; and then, taking his handkerchief, he wiped away from brow and face the great beads of dew, wrung out by agony, and com- ing death. The soft silk performed a miracle; for when it left the before stained face, pale, delicate, beautiful feminine features were disclosed to the view of those who gazed with deep interest upon the strange scout, who had appeared to thom only in times of deadly peril. The long lashes quiveringly lifted from the pallid cheeks, and the dark hazel eyes looked undying love into the face of Buckskin Sam. Big Foot loosened jacket and sbirt to ascertain the extent of the wound, but sprung amazed to his feet. te A faint musical voice struck the ears of Sam as he gazed sadly down upon the mysterious stranger, “ Sam—don’t—you know—Mary?” The words came like a zephyr, born of the flutter of angels’ wings. “Great God in Heaven, who are you?” burst in gasping tones from the lips of Sam, as he fell on his knees and held his face down near that of the wounded girl—for such she was, A gentle whisper again repeated his name in loving tones, the delicate hands clasped around gur hero’s neck, his long hair fell drooping | ' Buckskin Sam. about her face, and he answered in a voice of anguish: ‘“Mary. My God, what does this mean? —why did you follow me—alas, I fear to your death?” ** Because—I loved—you, Sam—and thought you loved—Lena Castro, Tell me—you do not—that you—love Mary—and kiss me—be- fore —I die.” It was agony to hear her words gasped out; and tears cut furrows down the blood and powder-grimed cheeks of the rough Rangers. ““By my hopes of Heaven, Mary, such a thought as love for Lena Castro never entered my brain, I came here to save her from a fate worse than death, and restore her to the arms of a loving, much bereaved father. I have never thought of love, I have only cherished even you as a friend; but now I swear, if you will but live I will love you more than mortal ever dreamed, and make upon this earth a heaven for you.” ‘Thank God!” whispered the dying girl. ‘*T can—die happy—I have—prayed for— this, One—more—kiss—Sam—meet—” A heavy, soul-rending groan burst from Sam, and his form shook like an aspen. All was over. There, surrounded by dead and dying men, the taint of battle in the air, a true, pure spirit winged its way to heaven, leaving be- hind a strong, brave heart torn with agony. As the last of her words was whispered, the last faint gasp died in his ear, Buckskin Sam folded the dead in his arms, and he who here- tofore had allowed no sorrow to unbend him, whose yell of encouragement but a few mo- ments before had rung in the fierce battle’s front, bowed down to earth, with a grief beyond consolation, terrible to those who wit- nessed it. In life he nad known her but as a friend; in death suddenly he knew her as a lover. Warlula approached his white brother, and by his side the strange Indian who saved his life on the roof of the hacienda, and who, in company with Black Bravo, saved Sam when surrounded and lassoed by the bandits of Cor- tina, on the Rio Sabinas. The war-paint had disappeared and Lulula was plainly revealed. Both stop, as they see the form of Buckskin Sam prone upon the pavement, his arms en- circling Black Bravo, They keep their places at a respectful distance, awaiting the time when their white brother shall have con- trolled his grief. All who are within the patio are now aware of the sex of the brave, self- sacrificing stranger clothed in black velvet. Each individual kept his place in silence, and respect for the sudden and unlooked-for grief of him they all loved as a brother. The tip-ity-tip of a horse, coming up the trail from toward Monterey, caused no change in the scene, although many eyes glanced to- ward the gate, insurprise and anxiety. The sound of the galloping horse came nearer and nearer. The animal and its rider entered the moonlit space at the gate and came to a sudden halt, the steed giving a wild snort of terror at the scent of blood. Who was the rider? Not one in that battle-worn band but knew him too well at the first glance. The commanding figure, the gold buttons flashing in the moonlight, the polished mount- ings of saddle and arms, the black sombrero and plume, the long hair, and the poise upon the steed, as he quickly pulled the animal upon his haunches, in astonishment and apprehension, all showed the well-known fiend of the chapar- rals, the scourge of the Rio Grande, Juan N. Cortina. But an instant did the form of this celebrated chief stand outlined in the moonlight. The scene was too fearful for even him, reared amid bloodshed; and then there lurked there for him the deadliest danger. He whirled his mustang, drove spurs deep, and bounded into the dense chaparral, with a look of fear and horror upon his white fave, As Cortina disappeared the scene suddenly changed. A sheet of lurid flime sprung from the window of the wine-cellar, roaring like the sound of an approaching norther. The origin of the fire was explained to the observers by the sudden appearance of Dutch Pete and Mike McFillinny with a-basket of bottles, No doubt but what, in their explorations for the liquor they loved so well, they had set fire to the hacienda. As the flames crackled and pierced the very heavens, filling the air with vast clouds of 23 smoke, al] realized that their lives depinded upon immediate departure, that the fire would signal the many followers of Don Brogado, who still lurked in their mountain retreat, and also bring down upon the Texans the soldiers of the republic, from Monterey. Big Foot advanced and gently laid his hand upon the shoulder of Sam, saying: ‘** Little pard, rouse yerself-—-Mary Saunders are gone ter a heap better place ner this, an’ we has ter hump ourselves or git our gizzards carved. an’ we can’t help thim what’s taken the'r jump inter kingdom cum’, yer, an’ all that; an’ ‘lows ter help go ther hull hog on avengin’ her. We'll think o’ Mary as well as ther Alamo when we cut our way thr’u’ ther murderin’ cusses herearter, ~ Come, little pard, all ther boys is ready fur h’istin’ tharselves outen this bloody hole.” Recalled to himself by those words the man-~ ner of our hero changed. Raising his hande stained with the blood shed to save bis. own, upward toward the fire-lit sky, he exclaimed~ in a hoarse, unnatural voice: “‘Gentlemen, hear me! From this night on I swear over the dead form of this noble, in-. nocent maiden, whose affections, unknown te myself, were centered on me, and who has sacrificed her life for that love—over her bloodstained, murdered form I swear that~ benceforth I never give quarter toa dog of a bandit who has ever ruised hand against a white man, woman or child; my heart shall know no mercy for the bandits of the Bravo! “Now I am ready to prepare for departure; but I shou]d not bave peace in the future did i bury Mary Saunders within these walls. She shall not rest under this polluted earth.” One by one Sam’s friends had gathered about him. Lena Castro took his hand, the tears cours- ing down her cheeks, for she felt that she was in a manner the cause of the death of the un- fortunate girl. Then Warlula and Lulula each pressed Sam’s hand to their hearts, Warlula saying: ‘Buckskin Sam is warrior—when he sing death-song an’ go happy hunting-grounds he meet black velvet squaw. She much brave warrior—too bad die—white bro- ther sad, Warlula sad—Lulula heart bleed much for Buckskin.” Each of his Ranger friends spoke a kind. word and gave a shake of sympathy. Then the bustle of departure created a busy scene, The horses of the Rangers were brought from the chaparral, and others, sufficient, to mount the party and pack the booty, were gathered together. The females and wounded were mounted first, and preceded by an advance guard they passed out of the gate. The remainder of the Rangers followed, driving pack-mules laden with spoil, for Don Castro did not allow them to go away empty- handed from the house of his fathers, Only a little behind the rest rode our hero, sur- rounded by his nearest friends and bearing in his arms the dead body of Mary Saunders. Taking a north-west course through the chaparral they rode on until at last, beneath the drooping branches of the bottom-timber, en the banks of the Rio Salinas, they buried the murdered maid. Then slowly they made their way toward the ford near the juncture of the Rio Alamo and Rio Grande, and at last. once more pressed foot on Texan soil. A few months later Buckskin Sam had the honor of being Augustin Siliceo’s best man, upon the joyful occasion of his marriage with Lena Castro, the fair lily of the Alamo, The wedding took place at the residence of Don Jose, at San Antonio; and of all of Buckskin Sam’s friends who followed the long trail from Don Brogado’s haunt, not one was absent. But best of all was the sight of a noble-looking, white-haired woman, who, with a quiet dignity, watched the ceremony that joined the two lovers for eternity. The wife of Don Jose had recovered her scattered sen and though almost childlike in the simplicity of her manner, would henceforth be to him tha loving partner of whom, for so many wretched years, he dreamed, Of the Rangers mentioned many still lives and Buckskin Sam, (Major Sam 8. Hall) now resides in Wilmington, Delaware, where new.’ found “ pards ” often listen to his stories of the dangers he has known on the trails in the Lone Star State. THE END, e Thar’s sum’ livin’ ones ter care fur, ~ We all feels fur_ Wik. Phe * ote - A comicbooks.«