Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 114 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

PO ee. of sweet child close to her side, (ran hair, kissed her pure, white brow, and gash into her bright eyes with a love unspeak- | without my ba eee ews ere ee a o ce renee —_ Bite of bleached wood and weeds, lodged in | ing her arms about her neck—“ my own pretty the sand about their bases, also show the action of water. ‘Capt. Gunnison,” said St. Auburn, coming out of a reverie, ‘‘ who is this Mrs. Armberleigh who joined us at Atchison? There is something about her s> sad that, man as I am, I can goareely restrain the tears of sympathy that spring to my eyes, when I look at her face with its patient suffering and piteous appeal, It seems as if she were ever On the point of weep- ings yet never weeps. And she so young—cer- nly noc more than five-and twenty.” , Was this mockery or genuine feeling?—for about this man there was a subtle somethin which eluded description. It was as if behin the loftiest and most humane sentiments ever lurked covert sneer. A man of the world would have detected this at once, and kept an eye on Jules St. Auburn; but Capt. Gunnison’s simplicity saw nothing of i . t. -“* Such sensibilities do credit to your heart, my ee do credit to your heart!” said he, laying his hand affectionately on the shoulder of the younger man, and casting one brief panos of what seemed like gratitude into his Then; meeting the cheek. “I know nothing of her past life,” he pur sued, dreamily, ‘nor of her future purposes, She bas not taken me into her confidence fur- ther than to say that she wished to go to the | some spirit of the storm borne on the wings of mountain country with people in whose com- pany she would feel safe.” ‘And her child—” began St. Auburn, his mouth. ** Ah! there my heart misgives me!” he sigh- ed, with a foreboding shake of the head, “I fear the wilderness will prove a rude pers in which to transplant so delicate a flower!” ** Boo—oo—oon!” spoke the hollow heavens, ina sullen menace that made the very rocks tremble, as if in corroboration of the leader’s boding prognostic. * Hark! Was not that thunder?’ asked St. Auburn, with a show of concern. ‘ Ihave read ly storiest of the sudden rising of these moun- tain streams,” “If itis a storm,” answered the leader, “it. is far distant among the mountain-tops, There will be time for no dangerous rising of the wa- ters in this pass—if my information is not de- fective; and I haye taken every precaution to | acquaint myself from reliable sources—before | we emerge from this narrow defile upon as fair | a plateau as the eye need wish to rest. upon. | Two hours, at most—with God's blessing !—will | suffice to take us to that haven of ty; ong there we will pitch our camp for the nig t.’ ut again the canyon Sexanbersted a dull, wrathful roar. The birds wheeled round and round, uttering shrill sereams. Across the strip of clear sky swept a cloud of dust and eddying leaves; and a chill gust came down the canyon, laden with fine, cutting sand. ‘Our stock are getting restless,” said St. Au- burn, diverted from the subject under discus- sion, and glancing back to where the cattle were crowding each other and bellowing mournfully at intervals, while their drivers were striving to keep them in order, with much hallooing and, it must be confessed, some profanity as The women, too, were visible, thrusting their heads from the canvas tilts and ates anxious gavews at the va of sky overhead, which, wever, was yet calmly reassuringly blue, women were, for the most part, pain: ly of plebeian stock—the mothers and ives and daughters of honest, yet rude an terate men. * As phe chiens, they pig a lot of ee head ttle semi-savages, as happy as kin Seysl as bees, and te talacianea te soon, ys! But there were two rare exceptions to this mouarene of humanity, standing out with all the and purity of calla lilies amid a ! gro of sunflowers and hollyhocks, in ns of Mrs. Amberleigh and her daugh- ter Seated in the first wagon of the train, amid such comforts as Captain Gunnison’s care could securé for her without awakening the jealousy the less favored, Mrs, Amber ressed able. _ peering up into her mother’s face, the oe! smiled sweetly, encouragingly, until the world-worn woman was _ yet with a sad on that would bave Ser tie uahol ton to Ly | ~ ofS miigp precious darling, Qarmnred, the gah ert ring vel What pes I do “Mamma,” d the child, in 9 veice of liquid | chit, eealbing inve her mother’s lap an I tls uestioning gauze of the | other, he withdrew his hand and his glance to- | ther, almost precipitately; and one might | of her surroundings and the swift on-coming of ave fancied a faint flush on his deeply bronzed | im | bring her heart into ber throat, and cause ker to _ which filled the mountain got boing them, But Captain Gunnison took the words out of | | and bold against the dark back p _—not careless, but with Rey faculty wrought ked her | to smile back | 2 es et ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee mamma! why are you always so sad? WAY don’t you ever laugh, mamma dear, like ret © Kimball?” (The child referred to the prettle merriest and most intelligent of the emigran wives.) ‘‘ She is alway happy —” . ‘Hush! hush, my child!” murmured the mo- ther, while a shadow of pain flitted across her face, and her lips quivered. ‘‘ Mamma,” breathed the child, presently, fi a hushed whisper, while her blue eyes grew. wide with an undefined sense of mysterious solemnity ‘Mrs. Davison asked me yesterday—are we going to find papa—” | But with a muffled cry of anguish, the mother gathered her startled child to ber bosom in. a spasmodic embrace, and turned her white, pain- rawn face and humid, supplicating eyes toward heaven, as if crying for mercy there. Then she bowed her head into the little one’s neck, and so rocked slowly back and forth, while low, stifled sobs were wrung from the depths of her bursting heart. The child clung to her stricken pecne mute and trembling, awed by this whelmiing tide of emotion. . Sitting thus, they heeded not the gathering tempest, until a cry of dismay and an abrupt stopping of the wagon roused the mother from her absorption in her mysterious griéf to a sense’ nding danger. he sight to which she awakened might well hug her child more closely to her bosom; for down the canyon swept. a_herse and rider, like the wind. They .seemed in the van of a dense shadow, nd out clear ound, aud fol- lowed swiftly at their heels, like some dread ctre hovering above them oh dusky, slow- deni wings, and seeking to envelop them in its baleful shade—while all about them whirled clouds of eddying dust! came the horse, like a thunderbolt!—his hide, as black as night, dappled with flakes of snowy foam)!—his gaping nostrils red as blood! his eyes flashing fire Such bounds!—such giant leapsi—down the rugged pathway, strewed on every hand with a thousand pitfalls, shot the sure-footed beast, with the mess and speed of a meteor! free rein to his steed, the man making every wild lineament s Givin rode with set teeth, stern, pale face, and steadi- ly burning eye.. "No quatling there! He had faced death too often and in many forms to yield to its ter- ror now! He rode li oS ) But now he. catches sight of that doomed nd of pilgrims to the new rado, who have - pe short ope ) 1 ; “aad rising stieey 8w . above his head, and shouts in seston to @s:— . Baek r lives, back! Back! God's dies back | rider in f And. gazing at. this. bol r in o stupetaction which male oteet’ even the CHAPTER HL THE HORRORS OF DEATH CANYON. Amp all the terrors of impend ‘Adbik at es . Do tipen lim came rushing harbinger of death, He, deaf to the warn- ing gazed St He warner—was it with horror, or fear, or ha OF WONGEE Bis rie ition inct | 3 This man of ice, who prided hese he néver yielding to those perturbations ee ul ae! as shake weaker nararees now as if the spot, while his sallow cheeks grew paler pelt great brown eyes Ai their habitual bore fae niggt g oP 8 ent sald, pre the graceful his supple figure har- dened into tense ieidity., PP And this eracee emotion f nd its counter. part in the man who was its OU, sd When he appeared at the head of the canyon in that uncertain race with death, the rider of the black steed was perfectly cool and collected to Se ree Cuan BAe Id well in hand. ~ me) - rose in his stirrups, a stand pov ud ex Mieunent leaping into his eyes, and his set face taking on lines 0 BE DOD At first comprehen in his earnest he drew near he coul ot Fe ating from the throng the man who s so boldly in her swelling + | cordan lee lingé swept ~ ate ene 20 ew 2 oe The Gentleman from Pike. “i a a a i tee oes = set teeth, and his nostrils dilated and turned white with fury. From en angel; of beneficence flying to the of imperiled humanity, he seemed sud- deny transformed into a demon of wrath mar- shaling the hordes of destruction and with them swee ® con upon a hated race. All this transpired in the twinkling of an eye. he next instant he had a shot past, a mother’s despairing ait had caught his ear, and God had pee into his keeping that which was destined io. regenerate his nature and make amends for ei the bitter past, though then he knew it not. Behind him he left dire confusion and the madness of fear that dethrones reason, leaving only the blind instinct of selfishness. But, amid the horrors of that awful panic Jules St. Auburn wasa man ofice, That swift-coming death which crazed others was unheeded by him, as he stood motionless, gazing after the rapidly-recedin a of the man who bad so strangely mov m. ‘* So we meet again!” he muttered, with white ps. Then a blood-curdling shudder ran through his frame, and «s if to shut out not the present appalling scene, but an cven more terrible memory, he covered his eyes with his hand. But fet us see what it was that came to the Gentleman from Pike in this moment when the lurid fires of consuming hate brought foremost re that was bitterest and most evil in his na- ure, One startled glance showed Mrs. Amberleigh that the shadow following close at the heels of the flying tider twas caused by a dense, black oud (fringed with the border of white mist rolling upward, eddying round and round, and torn into ja ed tongues by peg currents of air) which was scudding across the strip of sky, a black, ermine-bordered pall, and marking its passage py an ebon shadow which swept along the earth like a trailing mantle. She heard the god-like rider cry: “Back! for the love of heaven! A mountain reservoir has burst, and is sweeping down the canyon, bringing death and destruction! For God's sake, good people, fly! Stay for nothing! Fly for your very lives!” en this feeble woman—this mother, in whose soul there were one unspeakable sorrow and one unspeakable love, rose to her feet, clasp- ing in her di ag mother-arms, close over breast, hex mildly-throbbing heart he one pricéless boon of that heaven which ha wed upon her in all else; and into her white face came something of that terrible defiance of fate seen in the bla brow of ill-starred ’ of old g love. undyin Sa she stood—mute, motionless, while shrieks of terror rose on every hand, and direful confu- n turned that scene, but now of peace, into a pandemonium of mad panic!—stood, with but one thought im her heart, one image in her e!—stood, until that mad rider and his pant- : 4 igs swept up to her, and would have pass d y, Then, with one gaze, as it she sought to pho- ph pod ber soul the image of her sweet id nes so deep, so enduring, that all the érnities could not ¢fface them !—with one kiss, in which throbbed and glowed all the fervor of a mo e ife-long, deathless love, and the an- or coe hein 7 fee Ra ot ig stant then burst at parting !|—sbe extend- edhe? heart's treasure to him; and in a& voice that, vibrant with intense passion, rose clear and distinct from that wild hubbub as a strain of music eledves its way through a Babel of dis- unds, and arrested his attention as nothing else could, she cried: “Save my child !—oh! save my baby!” She saw him look her way L<ahe saw his stout arm thrust out as he swept by!—she felt her child plucked from her grasp!—she beard the little-one’s cry of dismay: ““Mamma! Mamnia!” Then, as the one object of her love was snatched from her gaze on the wings of the wind, the ys te of heaven faded out—the world seemed to slip from beneath her feet—and, with a shriek that told the death of hope and happi- ness, she fell like one dead! - Well, let her lie!—the sore heart is now at pace !|—her shuddering vision is not appalled by the swoop hell of horrors that seemed to in- gulf the world! g eyes and anguish-wrung Rizpah—that other mother whose agony was equaled only by her death come flying down the gorge, he stood for an instant like one in a dream, his thoughts bad been so far away from any premonition of danger. Only for an instant, however, then he roused himself to the pniles of his responsible position, and bounded to the rear of the wagon containing "Mrs. Amberleigh, where his horse was tied by a leading line. AD g, and he’was in the saddle, and with heel and rein forced bis frightened horse to the ad of his conimand. Aan the wagons!” he ag ae the hits stentorian’ **'Take your wives childreii of Horseback aud fly down the When Captain Gunnison saw the herald of GOmMmIiGbDoo cS (C(O)