Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 138 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

ES wants to emigrate. The marriage is to take place to-morrow, I hear?’ ‘* Yes,” rejoined Brown, almost in a whisper. ‘* T believe—to-morrow.” *¢'You will be present, I suppose?” ‘“Who?—I? No, I think not. Our meeting will probably Jast till late in the evening, and then I shall pass the night at Bowitt’s,” ‘‘ What meeting?’ “The meeting of the Regulators, We are to assemble to-morrow at Bowitt’s house.” ‘“To morrow? The business must haye been arranged very secretly; I haven’t heard a syllable of it.” “Why, of course, the Regulators only are notified. Yet, 1 wonder,” continued Brown, who thought. he had found a favorable oppor- tunity to say a word in favor of Wilson—‘‘I wonder that Wilson has said nothing to you about the affair; he was commissioned to notify all in this quarter, and we are far from wish- ing to make a mystery of our proceedings,” “It’s a long time since Mr. Wilson has been in my house,” replied Atkins, upon whom the mention of this name appeared to produce an unfavorable impression; ‘‘ that’s the reason, I suppose, that I have heard nothing of it; but it’s all one, I am not a Regulator, and have no interest in the meeting. Such companies are torming in Texas, I’ve heard say.” “Yes,” replied Brown, who resolved to ven- ture a new onset; ‘‘ but Wilson seems to wish to settle in this part of the country for good, and I think you could not have a better neigh- bor.” ‘You forget that I can hardly be called a neighbor here,” replied Atkins, ‘‘ as I shall sell out on Monday, perbaps;—but here comes my wife with the tea-things—the days are very short. By-the-by, Mr. Brown, how goes it with your uncle? We were all right sorry to hear that the poor man took the fever so badly, but there is no escaping it, and the healthiest men have it the worst.” Brown was convinced that, for the present, at least, all further attempts to do Wilson a good turn would be in vain, and, besides, Mrs. Atkins now entered the house, and was soon afterward followed by Ellen with the child. He would gladly have chatted for a while with the sweet maiden, but he feared lest this might subject her to unpleasant words, A friendly, grateful, stolen glance, however, told him with sufficient plainness, that she bad appreciated his kindness in leading her foster- mother away, and—what was better—had taken advantage of it. The conversation now turned upon ordinary subjects; the pasturage, hunting, the survey- ing of land in the neighborhood, and the quarrels which often arose in consequence, among those who dwelt near each other. They spoke also of a murder which bad been com- mitted about five days before, on the other bank of, the Arkansas, wbere a cattle-dealer had been shot dead, and robbed of his pocket- book, that was said to have contained about a thousand dollars, and the murderer had not yet been discovered. Then of the election of governor and sheriff, etc., ete., until the gor- geously-colored Yankee clock, that decorated the mantle, struck eight. But, now, the child, who thus far had slept sweetly in its cradle, began to grow uneasy andto cry. Ellen took it from its httle bed, and walked softly to and tro in the chamber, humming a song; but it continued to scream violently, became more and more restless, and, before half an hour had passed, it was so ili, that the women, now ter- ribly alarmed, ran back and forth to bring all the remedies, which could possibly be found in the house, to ease the little sufferer’s pain. ‘‘ All was in vain, however, and the mother in great anxiety, now dispatched a negro-boy, and some workmen—who had been occupied tor the last few days in digging out a large canoe for Atkins—in various directions, after the different farmers’ wives who were ac- quainted with the maladies of children, whether they lived far or near, to inform them of the poor creature’s condition, and to sum- mon them to the spot with all possible speed. The mother, in the mean time, gesticulated like a maniac, and overwhelmed poor Ellen with the bitterest reproaches, accusing her of | having neglected the child, and even of wish- ing to see it removed from the world, that she might be relieved from the care of tending it. In vain the poor girl asserted her innocence, and appealed to the love that she had always shown toward the little creature. It was all tono purpose. With the severest and most — Border Bandits. The unjust rebukes, the woman bade her hold her tongue, and not open her mouth, if she did not want to learn how they treated obstinate ser- vants, Brown felt his bosom stir with indignation, and he resolved to make every attempt in his power to aid his friend, and to rescue the maiden from the hands of those by whom she was so shamefully maltreated. He was satis- fled, however, that, for the present, every re- monstrance would not only prove useless, but would be followed by still more unpleasant consequences for the orphan-girl. The confusion had now reached its highest pitch; the poor little creature seemed to grow worse each moment. Ellen wept in silence, and the mother, heedless of a stranger’s pres- ence, walked up and down in the chamber, wringing her hands, and exclaiming, ‘‘ that it was a punishment from Heaven which now visited her, in the person of the poor innocent child for all her sins and short-comings.” Suddenly a man’s voice was heard without demanding admission, and the dogs, awaked by the noise, began to bark and howl violently. The wind, which throughout the day had blown feebly from the south, had shifted, and, coming from the north-west, shook with violence the leaves and branches of the mighty trees, and, when the door was opened, extinguished the light, which stood upon the table; and, as the five upon the hearth had almost died away, the apartment was wrapped in sudden darkness, ‘* Hallo! within there! can I pass the night here?’ cried the voice a second time. ‘The d—l take the dogs—will you shut your mouths?” **Be quiet, Hector! be quiet, Dick! down with you, ye rascals! can’t you let a man speak?’ cried Atkins, who had now stepped to the door. ‘' Dismount,” he then added, turning to the stranger; ‘‘my boy will take care of your horse.” ““Will the dogs bite?” asked the stranger, prudently, as he obeyed this invitation, and grcped his way over the fence. ‘*No,” said Atkins, “not when I am by. Come this way, and don’t fall over that log yonder, Stop! there stands the plow—don’t run against it—.so—three steps; the lowermost is a little totterish. Ellen, light the candle again.” Ellen had been busy, in the mean while, in lighting a few pine chips, and soon the room was sufficiently illuminated to enable them to see the man, who, at this moment, entered the apartment, laid aside his riding-cloak, and his cap cf otter’s skin, and then advanced with a friendly greeting to the family, who were seated near the chimney, in the bright light of the now blazing fire. He was a short, thickset man, with sharp gray eyes, long, smooth hair, of a somewhat auburn hue, and a face con- siderably freckled. He wore a brown woolen hunting-shirt, and leggings of the same material, while a pair of old, long-used saddlebags, which he carried upon his arm and laid near the fire, seemed to contain all that he needed, for a ride through the forest, in so wild a region. As he approached the two men, his glance roamed from one to tke other, as if uncertain which of them he should accost as the master cf the house. Mrs. Atkins seemed but little pleased at the entrance of a new guest—an occurrence which promised to increase the confusion that already prevailed—for, with a somewhat angry glance, she took the suffering child in her arms, wrapped it in a blanket, and called to Ellen to follow her with a candle into the other house, and light a fire there immediately, Ellen hastened to obey this command, and there seemed to be every probability that Mrs, Atkins would not make her appearance again during the evening. ‘“‘ A terrible wind without,” said the stranger, after an interval of silence, during which he seemed to have satisfied himself of the identity of his host. ‘‘ It blows as if it would tear up the trees by tho rovts,” “Yes, it is a little blowy,” answered At- kins, casting a keen glance upon. his guest. ‘* Have you come far?” “Not so very far—from the Mississippi.” *‘Going further westward?” ** Yes, to Fort Gibson. How far is it to the La Fave?” ‘I live on the river,” replied Atkins, as his glance met that of the stranger; while Brown, disturbed by the cries of the sick child, and by the entrance of the new-comer, had taken his seat near the fire again, and was amusing 17 himself with thrusting the long stick, which stood in the chimney-corner, to and fro among the coals. “You have ridden along the bank of the river for several miles,” be said, now joining in the conversation; ‘‘but you could not see it, as the canebrake is, perhaps, a quarter of a wile broad, and very thick.” “Well, I thought that the river must he near. Fine sedge there; must yield glorious fodder. Is the pasturage good, about here?’ “Very good,” replied Atkins, and again he caught the eye of the stranger, who, after a side-glance at Brown, now looked his host full in the face. Brown ceased his occupation, and, lost in thought, suffered the stick to re- main in the fire, and it was soon in a light blaze, He gazed steadfastly at the flame, as it endeavoring to recall to his memory something that had half escaped it. “T have ridden fast,” said the stranger, now interrupting the short silence, “‘and the wind makes one thirsty. May I beg you for a drink of water?” “Certainly,” replied Atkins, and hastened to the bucket, to bring his guest the desired draught; but Brown, startled by a sudden re- membrance, looked around at the latter, and met his glance fastened steadfastly upon him- self. He turned at once toward Atkins, how- ever, took the gourd from his hands, and drank a long draught of its contents, ‘Hearing this gentleman ask for water, put me in mind that I was thirsty myself,” said Brown, who by this time had recovered his calmness, and now, recollecting with the utmost distinctness the conversation in the desolate hut on the Arkansas, was resolved that the two men should not remark that he conceived any suspicion, or divined their rela- tion to each other. “Stay, gentlemen,” exclaimed Atkins, ‘‘ how can you drink the cold stuff in that way, and with such a storm outside? How if we should first pour down a drop of whisky? Let that go before, and the water afterward can do tio harm,” Tt will do us all three good, I think,” re- sponded the stranger, smacking his lips, while the host stepped to a little cupboard, and brought out a jug with three tin cups. ‘Here, Mr. Brown, pour out for yourself,” he said, reaching the jug to the young man; ‘‘oh, really, now, that is hardly a drop—that’s right—the stormier it is without, the more comfortable we should make it within. And now—you, sir; what is your name? My name is Atkins, and this is Mr. Brown.” ‘“My name is Jones,” replied the guest, ‘John Jones, easy to remember, eh? Well, to our better acquaintance, Mr, Atkins!—to our better acquaintance, Mr. Brown!” Ande, glancing pleasantly at the two men, he raised his cup to his lips. A hal?-scornful, half-anx- ious smile played about Atkins’s mouth, as be heard the man, who called himself Jones, drink to better acquaintance with the Regula- tor; but not a gesture, not a look, betrayed his thought, and he merely touched his own to the cups of the other two, while he said, as from the depths of his soul, ‘May we always remain right good friends!” E.len, in the meanwhile, had brought in a bundle of bedding, which she laid upon the floor. To Atkius’s question, who asked after the condition of the child, she replied that it seemed to suffer severe pain, althvugh no one could tell what was the matter with it. **Can they do without you fora quarter of an hour?” asked Atkins. “T hardly know—Mrs,—” “Very well; put the kettle over the fire,” ho said, interrupting her. ‘You must make haste, and prepare supper for Mr. Jones here; I will speak to my wife about it.” With these words, he left the chamber; and Ellen hastened to prepare the simple meal of a western farmer, which consisted of nothing more than warm corn-bread, fried bam, hot coffee, with butter, cheese and honey. The two men were in the mean while seated quietly near ihe fire, Brown watching the slender fori of the lovely girl, as with busy haste and skillful hand she arranged the required meni; while Jones, as if lost in deep thought, moved the long stick around in the fire, and knocked the burning coals from the large brands— ax occupation which he intermitted only when, with impatient miep, he cast a glance, first at the clock, that stood above his head, and then - toward the door through which he expected — Atkins to return. a) E@NNIELOOOKS (C i : (E)