Beadle's Dime Library No. 147 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

| Gold Spur, the Gentleman from Texas. 13 o-will, and to the amazement of the sergeant a ead of red horsemen came bounding toward im. ‘Secure that man, and bring him along,” was the stern command in the Comanche tongue, and quickly it was obeyed. ounted upon his horse, and bound securely age that showed he was ever on his guard, and relonsiziié by a severe blow, the grasp of the sergeant upon his throat, he clinched with him, and the fight became savage and determined. | Though both men were armed, strange to say, neither seemed to care to use a weapon, but exch struggled for the mastery of the other ** Not by name, miss.” ‘¢ And the Child of the Regiment you certain- ly know?” ‘* Yes, miss, she was one of the ladies, but I am one of the late recruits.” “Ah yes; I thought I did not know your face, and yet it seems familiar.” and turning to ee by sheer strength. In this contest the renegade soon showed his superiority, for he seemed to possess sinews of steel and a power of endurance that knew not fatigue, and the sergeant was soon powerless in his strong grasp and ceased to struggle. ‘* Well, Maurice, you see that I am still your master,” said the renegade. The soldier made no reply, and only gazed with a strange look into the painted face of the _gade chief, and Maurice Sylvester was borne other. ‘* Well the worm will turn if trod on, I see, so I must look out that I get not a stab in the back.” “T am not so vile as that, Moline. frenzied at your words, and sprung upon you, hardly knowing what I did; but you need not fear me now, for I would not have your life up- | on my hands for worlds.” ‘*T shall not trust you, so that you can repent of such a sin, my dear Maurice. Now come, let us resume where we leftoff. ‘| was saying that you must become like myself, a renegade.” * Never!” unadvisedly, as it is in this case, for not only shall you become as I am, but you shall aid in placing the garrison in my hands.” “The tortures of the Inquisition cannot force me to do that,” ** We shall see.” ** Ay, yeu shall see, Moline, that I will not with the hope of making you confess that | was no renegade. 1 escaped and I sought you. ‘* Now that I know that you refuse, I will go far from bere and win a name of honor for my- self, which my child shall not blush to own.” ‘‘ Your child?” cried the renegade, quickly. ‘Yes; my daughter Sibyl.” ** The child of your wife?” asked the renegade in a hoarse voice. “c Yes.” **T thought that your wife died in giving birth to a daughter, who soon after followed her mo- ther to the grave.” The sergeant turned deadly pale and made no reply, and the renegade continued in the same suppressed voice, that showed he was deeply moved: ‘* You have deceived me in this, Maurice Sy1- vester.” ‘** Yes, I confess it,” was the reply. *“* And your wife, where is she?” *“‘In her grave.” ** She died, then, as you stated?” ‘*No, only a short while ago.” ** Ah! And her child?” “Why would you know?” **Answer me. Where is your child?” “‘In the Platte garrison.’ *“*Ha! When did you bring her there?” ‘‘ She came in the train that you attacked.” ‘**Ha! ha! ba! what a finefather she must feel that she has in you, to be tried as a deserter and renegade upon her arrival, and now be a fugi- tive from justice. _ “T tell you, Maurice, you shall answer for this deception.” ‘No, no, spare me, for I know what you would do.” ‘* What would I do?” ‘Betray the past to my child.” rae just what I will ot unless you be- tray the garrison into my hands.” OF will not do it.” ‘ Listen: there isa man in that garrison whom I hate, for he has wronged one in the past whom I love, after my fashion of loving.” ** Who is he?” ** Horace Eldred.” ‘** The commandant?” ** Yes, Colonel Eldred; he captured me once, and held me under death sentence; but I es- | caped, by the aid of the very one whose whip- o-will call made you leave the bivouac the other night. ‘* It matters not who she is, but I have prom-— ised her to avenge her wrongs, and I wish to et Horace Eldred in my power; and more, I would humble his lovely daughter in the dust.” “Why wrong that beautiful, innocent girl, Moline?” ‘* Beautiful, innocent girl,” renegade mockingly. “| tell you, Maurice, I have a debt to settle with her, and I shall pay it tothe last farthing.” “ You bave avght against Edna Eldred?” 4c Yes. ’ ‘‘ How can she have wronged you?” “Tt matters not to you; bet I will get her father and herself in my power, and then my hall be complete on both; but you answered the “T shall not.” ** Then I act iy oye a as from Sis day shall curse the you were born.” "Guddendy he gave the loud call of the whip- hed | ~~ I was | | dream be like you, the vilest of the vile, to save my life | _and on the far frontier, she had found a con- Maurice Sylvester was borne along over prairie and hill, across streams, and down valleys, un- tilat nightfall the renegade chief and his red band® halted in a mountainous, wild region, so formed by nature as to be a safe retreat for wild beasts, and doubly safe for the buman beings, fallen to the level of brutes, who had there their lair. ‘‘ Take that man to the Death cave, and there leave him,” was the stern command of the rene- away to a cavern, before the entrance of which were stout logs securely barring within the un- fortunate prisoner that was placed there. Stripped of half his clothing, with a bear- skin and army blanket only thrown him for couch and covering, and no hope of release, he was left there, with the renegade’s last words ringing in bis ears: ‘* Maurice Sylvester, you know well what an- other year will bring to me, and for which I have so long plotted; and now know, that I have one in Platte Garrison who will aid me to carry outmy revenge against Horace Eldred and “That is a strong word, and is too often used | is daughter, and that then, I shall get in my power your sweet child, and prove to her that you are not her father.” CHAPTER XXvV. THE FALSE MESSENGER. Wuen Esther Gerard mounted her spotted mustang to ride over to the garrison, sbe little of trouble to come In her new home, log-cabin though it was, tentment that she felt would soon bring happi- ness to both herself and her father, and was really glad that she had left the butterfly life of the city for that of a border girl. Some of the emigrants who had come on the long trail West with them, were, like her father and herself, from the better walks of life, and with true courage had settled down to carve out new fortunes in that western land. These were enjoyable companions, for both Esther and her father; but there were two others whom she liked very much, and wished to keep as friends, although they had become inmates of the garrison, some miles distant from her cabin home. Edna Eldred, whom she had several times met, she also had become attached to, and wish- ing to see her, as well as the pretty widow and Sibyl Sylvester, she had galloped over to the fort, her father promising to come after her when his day’s work was done. Sibyl, the Child of the Regiment, deeply in- terested in what she heard in the command- ant’s office about Gold Spur and her father, returned no answer to Esther’s knock at her door, and the fair emigrant then went in quest of the child widow, and with like disappoint- ment, Failing to find that capricious beauty, Esther sought the room of Edna Eldred, and was warm- ly welcomed by her. ” ‘*Come, let us go for a gallop, Miss Gerard, and make up a quartette of equestriennes, for we will get Mrs. Conrad and Sibyl, and not a beau shall accompany us,” said dna Eldred, after she had gree‘ed her visitor. Esther explained that she could not find either the Child of the Regiment or the widow, and the two started together, taking the trail leading to the cottonwood grove on the river-bank, and agent half a league or pe oe the a i nsuspecting danger, and chatting in a live- ly strain, they rented the timber, and dis- mounted to pluck the wild flowers that grew in abundance near them. At last, fatigued by their exertions, and satis- fied with what they had gathered, they got down upon the river-bank to rest and enjoy the pretty scene and balmy air. Presently they were startled by seeing a horseman approach, but were reassured when roe discovered that he was a trooper in uni- orm. ‘* Some one doubtless sent after us, as father may be anxious regarding our safety,” said Edna, as the cavalryman drew nearer. ‘‘ [t was perhaps imprudent in us coming this far in these times of danger,” answered Esther, and the two arose as the soldier approached and touched bis cap. ‘Well, my man, do you seek us?” asked | Edna, in that manner and tone that the femi- nine relatives of army officers soon acquire in addressing a soldier. ‘*- Yes, miss, a few friends have ridden on to the Horseshoe Motte above on the river, and | beg — to come there.” ar friends: oh, Mrs Conrad and Miss Syl- 'vester you ean; well, Esther, they have stolen a march on us after all,” said Edna. ‘Yes, miss.” replied the soldier hesitatingly, and then he added: ‘‘There were two ladies, miss.” ** Do you not know Mrs. Conrad, my man?” Esther she added svtto vove: - What a splendid-looking officer he ‘would make.” ‘Indeed he would, with his English whisk- ers and light hair,” answered that other admirer of masculine beauty; but seeing that the soldier noticed their whispering together, Edna asked: ‘* Are you to act as an escort, my maa, to the Horseshoe Motte?” ‘** Yes, miss; I was told to.” ‘*Then lead the way, for we will mount.” With a kind of natural gallantry he sprun to the ground, untied their horses for them an placed them in the saddle with an air of defer- ence that was quite winning, and then lightly leaping to his own saddle with no apparent de- sire to show bis athletic ability, be led the way up the river at a swift gallop. ‘* What can have induced that silly couple to ride so far?’ said Edna, after a league had been gone over, and the motte was yet nearly as far away. o They were certainly rash, but if there was danger this soldier would certainly have warned them,” answered Esther, and they continued their rapid gallop until the timber was reached and they dashed into its cool shade. Then suddenly their guide wheeled to the right-about, his well trained horse bounded be- tween the ponies riijden by the two maidens, upon whose bridle-reins was now laid a firm erasp. “Sir, what does this mean?’ cried Edna, ar gee ‘“‘It means, fair lady, that you are both my captives,” was the insulting rejoinder. ‘“Your captives! My fatber shall learn of this outrage, sir! Unloose my rein,” and Edna’s eyes flashed with anger. “Your father, Edna Eldred, fears me far more than I do him,” was the quiet answer. ‘Ha! you are not what you represented your- self: you are—” o White Jackal !” With the cry that burst from the lips of the terror-stricken maidens, at this startling an- nouncement, there appeared upon all si of them red warriors in full war-paint, and rising, as if by magic, from the very ground. | CHAPTER XXVL. THE RENEGADE’S RUSE. WHEN Colonel Eldred started off in pursuit of the White Jackal, that had been seen to off Edna Eldred and Esther Gerard as captives, he was in deadly earnest to run the renegade to earth, and visit upon him a most complete revenge. ady, without waiting for orders, Major Giles Gregory, the veteran old soldier and bach- elor, had started in pursuit, and they were making the pace hot for the fugitives, who had not gained the start they had hoped for. Finding, from a personal observation with his glass, from the top of a knoll, that not mf was the major’s battalion pressing him h and not two leagues distant, but that far in the rear was Visible a second body of troopers, the man in soldier’s uniform, who had so cleverly deceived and kidnapped the two maidens, de- termined upon a piece of strategy, so he headed os force for a line of hills, as if to take shelter ere. This point he reached in safety, and at once had fires built, and otber preparations made for . encamping, apparently, at the same time show- ing his warriors in force, so as to convince the troopers that he intended to make a fight. Seeing this, and not wishing to venture a combat, with his commander only a few miles in his rear, Major Giles came to a halt on the Ret a and made preparations to begin the . t as soon as the reinforcements arrived. the mean time the renegade leader of the Indians had gained a short rest for his tired horses, and water and grass being plentiful, he soon decided upon his plans of action. Dismounting some of bis best warriors, he threw them out as an advance guard, with or- ders to keep the enemy in check for awhile, and then retreat to the bills, and thus make their way to the stronghold, which they could easily do, being on foot. As soon as he enough, he approached the two maidens, who, ale and anxious, were seated together upon a og, their hands clasping each other's, si- lently bemoaning their fate. ‘‘ Well, ladies, we will continue our ride now,” he said, politely. ‘Oh, sir, where would you take us?” cried Esther Gerard, anxiously. ** To the retreat of my band.” ‘* And why have you thus wronged us?” asked Edna, indignantly. ‘‘T am the wronged one, lady; life owed me © a fair living, and gi to take it, and I am an outlaw for it, and am hunted down by my fellow-men; but with JOO con <€om cS (E felt that he had tarried long — | it not to me, I sought