Beadle's Dime Library No. 147 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

ee a Gold Spur, the Gentleman from Texas. 11 : / And the hand, which in the nick of time had struck up the weapon, was Sibyl’s, the Child of the Regiment. “Foiled! and by you, girl! You shall rue this act,” cried the widew with a fierceness she did not disguise. Instantly Gold Spur drew rein, and the three ho stood in a group together, while the man said sternly: ‘*Sibyl, you have saved my life, and if harm befalls you for so doing, I swear to you, Clarice Conrad, that you will die cursing the mother that brought you into life.” The man’s face was dark now with gr a and his eyes burned with a brilliant erceness that was fearful to look upon, and Clarice Conrad bent her head to escape their intense gaze upon her, while Sibyl, frightened at the sudden transformation that the face of Gold Spur had undergone, such a change as a being might wear in being hurled from heaven into hell, cried pleadingly: ‘“ No, no, she will not harm me, sospare her.” “‘ Good-by, Sibyl,jand heed my parting words: shun that beautiful woman as you would a hideous serpent.” _- Without another word he wheeled his horse away from the other two, and like a rocket, the fleet animal, now put to his speed, went over the prairie, showing how utterly useless was all pursuit from the troopers, who were still pressing on. And like two statues the two women, the child widow and the young girl, sat watching each other, and in the heart of the latter was ong ped a great fear of the one who gazed upon er. Perhaps Clarice Conrad saw this, for the hard look upon her face suddenly changed to one of intense sweetness, and her words were musical as the notes of a flute, while the touch of her hand, as she laid it on Sibyl’s hand, was as soft as velvet, and thrilling as a lover’s, as she said: ‘*Sibyl, my poor child, some time “I will tell you a secret, but not now, not now. ‘* Just now you saved the life of one who had deeply wronged me in the past; oh! how deeply. ‘‘But I forgive you, and beg you to forget my unkind words; yet, if you had suffered as I have through yonder flying devil, then would you not wonder that I tried to kill him, and you pity me; well, brother mine, your pursuit is useless,” and she turned to Lieutenant Emmer- son who just then drew rein at their side. ‘“‘ Yes, for he seems mounted upon the wings of the wind; but who fired that shot?” ‘* Some one at the fort, Edgar.” ‘*T mean the pistol-shot?” he said impatiently, 4s I did. ”? ‘* You shot at the Texan?” ce Yes. ” ‘‘And missed him at close quarters? You were once a dead shot, Clarice,” and he bent his sad eyes upon her with a gaze she seemed to understand, for she answered: ‘* And am now, brother mine; but The Gentile- man from Texas bears a charmed life; come give up the chase, for your horses are out of wind, and let us return in company to The gar- rison. ‘*T see no other thing to do with that winged- hoofed animal ahead of me,” said Lieutenant Emmerson, and with another glance at the flying Texan, the three turned back toward the fort, the troopers being only too willing to give up a hopeless chase. | CHAPTER XXI. FOLLOWING A PHANTOM. I WILL now return tothe night that opens this story, when the troopers, bivouacked in the timber, beheld on the moonlit prairie the strange hantom-like forms of a horse and rider, an eard the cry of the whip-o-will, which had so deeply moved Sergeant Sylvester, that he had gone alone in pursuit of the specter, or whatever it might be. Mounted upon his dragoon charger he rode rapidly out toward the phantom, which re- treated before his advance, still uttering the mournful whip-o-will’s cry. At nee after a long chase over the rolling prairies the misty forms of horse and rider stopped upon a slight rise, and there stood in bale came enn e ae skies, | nhes y Sergeant Sylvester approach- ed, his brow tok his lips sacals set 2 et seemingly fearing no dread encounter, for he had not drawn a weapon from his holster, and his sword hung at rest in its scabbard, Nearer and nearer le approached until he drew rein within a few paces of the phantom-like forms he had so scone followed. Then he halted and gazed more earnestly, for he saw that the horse was enveloped ina gauzy covering of white, as was also the form of the rider, which gave to them their ghostly look. The rider’s face, however, was covered by the same material, and there was that about the mysterious being who | impersonated a ter, that caused the soldier to que oe his had upon the revolver in his saddle hol- “Hold!” came in a clear, musical voice from the phantom, who had seen the act, and the white-covered arm was held forth to stay his hand “Who are you?” asked the ser t, still keeping his hand on the handle of his revolver. ‘* Heard you not the cry of the whip-o-will?”’ was the reply. “Yes, but why does that cry come from your lips?” ‘‘T was sent by one who told me that you would follow that cry.” ‘* And where is that one who sent you?” ‘* Far from here in the camp of his people.” ‘“* And he sent you for me? sé Yes. ”? “Who am I?” ** Maurice Sylvester.” ‘‘Ha! you do know me then?’ said the ser- geant quickly. ‘* Yes, I know you.” ‘‘Give me the name of the one that sent you for me?’ “Tt matters not what be his name; he has sent for you, and you must go,” was the calm reply. h Ha! who told you this?” “He did.” ‘* Did he tell you why?” sc No ” ‘* You are sure?’ asked the sergeant earnestly. cé Yes. ” “‘ And who are you?’ “It matters not.” “You are a woman.” ‘*My voice would betray that.” **T will follow you: ok on!” Without a word the woman, for such she was, turned her horse and led the way over the prairie, heading in the direction of a dark line that broke the horizon and which marked the course of the Republican. ‘Faster, for | would rejoin my command as soon as possible,” said the sergeant, and with- out a word, the strange, phantom-like guide urged her horse into a canter, and the sergeant followed her example. Several times he attempted to ride alongside of her to hold conyersation with her, but each time she quickened ber pace in a manner that told him she wished to remain unquestioned. At last he called out to her: ‘‘Why is it that he whosent you after me has come to this border?” ‘* He has his own reasons for so doing,” was the curt reply. | ‘“‘And how knew he that I was stationed here?” . ‘* Ask him,” was the abrupt response, and the sergeant remained silent. After a long ride the banks of the river were reached, and, as though thoroughly acquainted with the locality, the woman turned up the stream and continued on until they came to a small valley, in which glimmered a score of smoldering camp-fires. A challenge, in an Indian tongue, now run out from a clump of box elder bushes ahead, and was prompay answered by the shrill bark of the coyote, from the lips of the ghost-like guide, Without meee or other interruption she led the way into the little valley, passing num- bers of horses picketed out, and dark forms sleeping upon the grass, and at last drawing rein beneath a large ash tree. ‘**Dismount,” she said quietly, and, as an In- dian came forward, in full war-paint and feathers, she asked in the Sioux tongue, which the sergeant understood: ‘“‘ Where is the chief?” ‘‘Off on the prairie,” was the quiet reply. “You must wait, for he is not here,” she said, turning to the per. oe When will he return?’ he asked of the war- rior, | The reply was a shake of the head, and the woman said: ‘You. must be content to wait; if you are war I will get you food.” wes ail for no food; I only wish to see your ef. ‘“‘ Then you must wait,” was the abrupt reply, and the woman threw aside the white valli g that she had worn, and, to his surprise, the ser- geen beheld a young and beautiful face, ough it was almost as dark as the Indian’s who near. ‘You are no red-skin?”’ he said to her in- quiringly. es No.’ ‘What are you?” ** A Mexican,” she answered, and the dress she wore carried out the belief. ‘* What are you to—to—the chief?’ he asked, She smiled grimly, and replied simply: ‘* His best friend.” The sergeant gazed an instant upon the dark, beautiful face, as if ain oe to read there, b the aid of the prooaligns at her lips weal not reveal, and then, with a sigh, began to pace to and fro, his each step watched by the In warrior, until at last he felt that he was under the espionage of the mi | Determined to see if he i correct, he said after awhile, ad- the woman, who had thrown herself in a cican hammock swung between two I obeyed the call of your chief, but I care . —_—_———————— NN SSS eee OOO eee ee eee not to see him, so will return to my command; should | he desire to see me, let him seek me “You must await his coming,” she said firmly. | ‘* 1 cannot.” ‘** You must.” ‘*I will not be forced, against my will to stay; he should have been here to meet me after sending for me,” and the sergeant turned to- ward his horse, but the warrior quickly step between him and the animal, and he knew t | he was a prisoner, and that to resist would be utterly useless, For an hour or more he paced to and fro in no amiable mood, and his brow wes Jark, his hes compressed with the emotions that crowded up- on him. Then, suddenly, an excitement was visible in the outer edge of the camp, and a horseman dashed up and gave a rapid order in the Sioux tongue. Instantly scores of dark forms sprung from the velvety grass where they had been sleeping, and within a minute’s time the camp was bro up and the red horsemen were on the march, the sergeant finding himself between two huge war- riors, and the strange woman, in her ghostly robes, riding on in advance. ** Where is your chief?’ he asked the warrior on his right. ‘“He is waiting up the river.” ‘* He sent you word to come there?” se Yes.” ; And no more was said until, after a lon~ ride and just before dawn, the red horsathan Malead in a piece of timber, where already were a num- ber more, peperent’y awaiting their coming. ‘“‘Is your chief here?” asked the sergeant of the woman, who was taking the white robe from around her form, ‘* You will see him at the proper time,” was ae and with it he was forced to rest con- n Then closely watching, he saw Indian horse- men riding to and fro, evidently bent on some important mission, and after a short delay the two commands joined forces and moved for- ward at a swift eae It was a rapid ride for amile or more, and then a sudden halt and a few orders in g tones that caused the sergeant to start and gaze in the direction from whence came the voice. A man of large stature, well-formed, and with a eae face, was riding toward him. e was attired in a Indian suit, chief's feathers and all, and thoroughly armed and hendiclly mounted, while he spoke in the In- ai ngue. But in spite of that circumstance, notwith- standing his painted face and chief’s feathe Sergeant Sylvester knew that he was a w man, and called to him. . But, unheeding the call, from the lips of the chief, for such the actions of all proved him to be, broke one long, loud war-whoop, and with answering yells the whole band of red horsemen dashed out of the timber and headed up into a beautiful valley. In their midst, borne along with the red tidal- wave, was the sergeant, and, with a glance of horror, he saw then what it was that the painted fiends were heading for. And the sight drove the blood in torrents to the heart of Maurice Sylvester, for he found himself in the midst of a band of savages, rush- ing down upon a wagon-train of his own race; he heard the shouts of the defenders, the of the women and children, the wild rattle the rifles and war-whoops of the red-skins, and wished that he had died ere he had been forced into that fearful scene, | Then, as the red line wavered before the fire of the emigrants, and others crowding on, forced them forward once more, there came the clear, ringing cheer of his own regim and he saw his own comrades dashing to the attack. How they had gotten there he knew not, cared not, only he knew that he was among their foes, and then he saw that the red-skins were beaten, and he sought to escape, to fly, and not be seen. But alas! his hope was vain, his were upon him, and with his horse shot Maurice Sylvester felt that he was a lost ma and that fate had dealt him a blow that stru to his heart and brain, which echoed with the cries of his former friends and soldiers in arms, as they hurled upon him the mames of renegade and deserter. CHAPTER XXII. FROM DESPAIR TO HOPE, THE result of the unfortunate sergeant’s cap- ture, in the midst of the red-skins his own companions in arms, is known to the reader, and they have followed his career to the escape from the guard-house, by the aid of the daring and mysterious man who called himself The "To the better explain that escape I will o the r in that to the time when’? the friends of the cond man were allowed to visit him, this being a pre- concerted plan to aid Gold Spur in in- tended rescue. Among those admitted at will, was Sibyl, comic .S 900 eo ek: % a