Beadle's Dime Library No. 147 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

_ i SS ad o -¢ - ft wr ‘ 7 Se” -4 - ae ah te te ys - “a > > at et rors a fe = eis = = Sa rte as a ae ~~ | ee - ~ as a “ae e - Be ke: ——- * 2 beets 7 2 7(ee 2 ty ~~ 1% § “You said there would “Why we will vote that she CHAPTER V. SIBYL’S OATH, THe arrival of the Gerard emigrant train created quite a furore of excitement in the rrison of the Platte, over which Colonel orace Eldred held command. Other emigrants had come to the vicinity of the gurrison and settled, but they had caused no undue excitement, other than to the sutler, who saw in them increased patronage and a corresponding enlargement ot his profits; but the Gerard train seemed of a different material, for there were among them those who had oc- cupied the highest walks of life, and whom ad- versity alone had driven from the marts of civilization to the border. Prominent among these was Elmer Gerard himself, whose autograph willingly given to his friends, had resulted in his own ruin, and driven him and his brilliant daughter, who had reigned as a belle in St. Louis society, in com- parative poverty to the frontier, to there seek a new home. Whether it was the magnificent eyes of Esther Gerard, or the hospitable manners of her old father that lured the young officers of the fort to the new settlement, not far from the garri- son, those who visited there daily did not make known: but certain it is that many a dashing young trooper had suddenly found life in a ontier garrison most enjoyable. There may have been another reason for this disappearance of ennui among the officers, in the person of the young and beautiful widowed sister of one of their number, Edgar Emmer- son, a sad-eyed lieutenant. His sister, Clarice Conrad, was almost a child- widow in appearance, and had come West with the Gerard train, to at once rival the colonel’s niece Edna Eldred, and Esther Gerard, for three more beautiful women were seldom, if ever, seen together, and their presence in such Close vicinage, caused blunt old Major Giles Gregory to remark: ‘Three beauties and a score of young uni- formed idiots to lay siege to their hearts, will _ Yaise the devil before long: mark my words for it, gentlemen,” and he made the mess-table rat- tle as he set his glass emphatically down upon ‘You forget that there are a quartette of beauties, or, for the sergeant’s meer to ,” said utant Roy Taylor, twisting the ends of his ong, silken mustache, and glancing slyly into the _— at himself. ‘Yes, she, to my mind is a lovely girl, and from my inmost heart I pity her, poor child, for the court-martial will assuredly find her father guilty, and that will mean death,” answered the major sadly. ‘* And what will become of her then?” asked a captain with interest. become the Daughter of the Garrison,” answered the major ‘gay mind. is the Joveliest of them Aa earnestly. ‘‘Say rather, Major Gregory, that we make her the Child of our Regiment, and then where we go, she shall go, and it shall be our duty to care for her,” suggested Adjutant Taylor. # “GAs idea, adjutant, and I will start the ition to-night to make her the Child of the giment, and we will all be her adopted fathers.” ~ “About half will be her lovers, I'll wager, e and then look out for trouble,” growled a ary 4 bearded old captain. “Oh you are always predicting breakers ahead, Captain Barney,” cried the major. the devil to pay awhile since, and I agree with you, Gregory, _ for there are shadows creeping over the sun, - Trouble, answered Captain Barney. mee shadows, captain?’ asked the adju- - “ Pirst, you know that The Hercules accused that das fellow, who calls himself Gold ur, The Gentleman from Texas, of being the hite Jackal in di , and took his trail the nizht he left to look for Sergeant Sylvester?’ ** Yes,” chimed a number of voices. “Well, Gold Spur’s information that night saved Gerard’s train, as we all know, and there’s ill-blood between The Hercules and the Texan, and it will be some day brought to a climax.’ ‘* Yes, captain,” said several. “ Well, first we are to have a shadow on the S, in Sergeant Sylvester’s death, for they'll find him guilty, and then comes the poor daughter; then will follow the flirtations of that pretty widow, Emmer- son’s sister, and the colonel’s niece and Miss Gerard, not to speak of the sergeant’s daughter when she gets over her grief.” ‘* Go on, gee & we are all attention,” said a Fenng oft with sarcasm. “Oh I’m going to predict, and then stand afar off and see the fun, young gentlemen,” said rr Well, rea Stes the flirtations?”’ asked the what le, for this peony map from Texas marry one o over your , who has a ranch up sorrow of his ranchero, or cattle ow a ee ee ee ee = 4 vay SS ; oe whe re Gold Spur, the Gentleman from Texas. | the Platte, and then bad blood will be engen- dered, and I'll find my predictions true,” aoe ne best man win, Barney, wear he buckskin, brass buttons or velvet,” laughed the adjutant; but before response was made the door of the mess-room opened and Captain Riley Rockwell entered. His face was pale, and his manner sad, and they instinctively knew the reason, for he was one of the court-martial trying Sergeant Sy!- vester. ‘‘ Well, Rockwell?” asked the major, breaking the silence that fell fell upon all. “* He must die.” found an echo in every heart. ** And lam now going to tell him of his fate, and worse still, to break the news to his poor child,” said the captain sadly, and he turned away to go upon his sorrowful mission. But hardly had he half-crossed the garrison plaza, going toward the guard-house, when a | slender form ran up tohim, and cried piteously: | have heard? Must — “Ah, sir, is it true that I “" father die?” t was Sibyl, the doomed sergeant’s daughter, ee ~ | sentinel on dut ——_—-- at the same time grasping the manacled hand of the sergeant: - Sylvester, the regiment accepts the trust, for I will answer for all, and your child shall know no want, and in one and all of us, she will find a true friend.” ‘*God_ bless you, captain; now I die content, for my life has ever been shadowed with gloom ; but tell me, sir, how long have I to live? ‘Three days, only, for you are to be shot at | sunset on Friday next!” ; ‘Poor man,” said the major, and the words | the morning let Si ‘“ Whenever you wish. “Thank you, or now good-night, and in yicome to me.” He held out his hand and the young officer grasped it, and then turned quickly away and eft the cabin. ‘“‘ Oh, sir! may I see my father?” Riley Rockwell started, as from behind the Bag sang A stepped the maiden, having evidently been awaiting his return. ‘* Yes; sentinel, allow Miss Sylvester to pass and repass at will into the guard-house, and give the same orders to the relief.” ‘Yes, sir,” and the sentinel saluted, while ‘* One word more, sir; may I see my child?” and her face was white and pleading in the | with a sob Sibyl glided into the cabin, as Riley moonlight, as it was turned up to the young | Rockwell moved away, his head bent in deep officer. ‘* Alas! yes,” broke from his lips in sorrow. thought. ‘‘Are you not afraid to trust the girl, Cap- He had expected an outburst of passionate | tain Rockwell?’ suddenly asked a voice, and a weeping; but instead, she drew herself up to her full hight, and said in distinct, firm tones: ‘‘ He shall not die! at least he is guilty of no wrong.” ‘* Alas! nothing can save him.” “‘T say yes: lam buta girl, but I swear that he shall not die, and God records my oath.” Without another word she turned and glided away, leaving the young officer gazing after her in utter amazement, CHAPTER VI, THE DESERTER, ‘“SYLVESTER, you are doomed to death!” ‘* So let it be, Renee Rockwell: l accept my fate, and, though doomed to death as a deser- ter, I shall die like a man.” The two, Riley Rockwell and Maurice Sylves- ter, stood in the guard-house, a log-cabin in one corner of the garrison It was but a few moments after his meeting with Sibyl, and the young officer was deeply moved, for he had tried hard to save the life of the man, who had, before, been so respected by all who knew him. It was a stout cabin, the ‘garrison rd- house, and mngeny furnished, for a cot- a table and two chairs were all that were in the room set apart for prisoners under serious arge. From the adjoining room, where were some half-dozen soldiers confined under some trivial charge, was heard the hum of conversation, with an occasional low laugh, as though they cared not to have their merriment reach the ears of their comrade who they felt must die, for all anticipated the verdict of the court- martial. For a moment a silence fell between the ser- geant and his captain, and then the latter took several rapid turns across the room, and halt- ing suddenly, said almost impatiently: ‘* Sylvester, in the name of Heaven! why did you, the last to be suspected of all men, of being ilty of such an act, desert and go over to join the red-skins, like the veriest white rene- gade? The sergeant turned upon his officer, and drawing himself up to his full hight, looked straight into the eyes of Riley Rock well, as he replied in firm, distinct tones: ‘** Captain Rockwell, at heart I am no deserter, and far from heing a repagaees as I told the court-martial, I went to the Indian camp for a purpose, and that purpose I will not unfold to you even. ‘“‘ But I was seen in the Indian band when you attacked them, flying before the yma of my own comrades, and, through the killing of my horse I was taken, and I accept my fate, with- out one reproach to those who condemned me die. ‘‘T tried hard to save you, sergeant, for I feel now that, if you would speak, there is some liating circumstance in your act.” ‘‘Of myself I will not speak more; but, Cap- tain Riley Rockwell, there is one I leave behind me to my comrades, for she is alone and other- wise friendless in the world.” ; He paused, for his. emotions choked his ut- terance, and only by a great effort he mastered imself and continued: ‘Circumstances kept me away from my child, and om. lately have 1 found her; found her to regis er pach but I will her to the regimen ey Rockw do their duty to my poor onild, some God bless them on as San, ee er, or_ bri: eeu ted upon ber young heart, somay God's undying hatred pe curses fall upon them through life, and follow them to the grave.” He spoke with a vehemence of tone and man- ner that showed how soonty he was moved, and Riley Rockwell answered in a firm voice, and and as my comrades | oner from this 7 a seeming phantom.” tall form confronted him. It was Hiram Hale, The Hercules, and there was a peculiar look upon his coarse face. ‘* How so?” abruptly asked the captain. **T heard her oath 20 free her father.” ‘** Ah! well, if a friendless girl can free a pris- ison, Hale, she is welcome to do so,” and Riley Rockwell passed on to his quarters, in no pleasant mood, from some reason, with himself or the world generally. CHAPTER VIL. THE RAY OF HOPE, “My r child, you know all?” and Ser- geant Sylvester turned to his daughter as she entered the cabin. ‘Yes, and I have sworn that you shall not die, father,” was the firm nse of the maiden, to the great surprise of her father, who had expected a torrent of tears and a sad scene. ‘Ah, my child, the court-martial have al- reeAy sentenced me, and I have but three days ive, ‘‘- You shall not die like a dog,” was the firm reply, and laying her hands upon the broad shoulders of her father, Sibyl continued: ‘* Father, let me talk to you of the past.” The sergeant started visibly, his lips moved as though about to speak, and then, without a word, he sat down in his chair and leaning his elbows on the rustic table buried his face in his hands. ‘Father, let us speak of the past,” repeated Sibyl, taking a seat opposite to him and leaning her arms upon the table before her, while she gazed earnestly into his face. ‘Let the past remain buried, my child,” he said softly after awhile. ‘*Not so, for I wish to know why you are this moment under sentence of death. ‘‘For deserting to the Indians,” he said, quickly. ‘‘You did not desert; you simply went to to their camp, and you were with them when the troopers attacked them; now tell me why you went there?” ‘¢T cannot,” groaned the man, ‘‘-You must, father.” ‘JT will not, child; sufficient to know that I left m comrades, and was caught among the ed- ‘Tt is not sufficient for me to know that, fa- ther, for I know more.” ‘«« What?” he asked quickly, glancing full into her face. | ‘‘The garrison scout, Buckskin Mose, says that you left the bivouac in the timber to follow ‘*'Yes, yes; what else?” he anxiously asked. ‘‘ He says that this phantom, as some suppose it to be, gave the sound of a whip-o-will, and that you seemed deeply moved, and said that it was a signal, and then rode on the prairie in pursuit.” “Yes, and what more?’ eagerly asked the man. ‘**Alas! would that I knew more, for you were next found among the red-skins in their attack upon our train; now tell me, who and what was that phantom?” Sergeant Sylvester remained silent, his head bent down, for he seemed to wish to keep his face from the gaze that sought bis own. RY hice nye, that he made no reply, Sibyl con- u . ‘‘Father, my mother told me that you had wronged her deeply, and then gone ewuy. ‘“What that wrong was she never told me yet when she died I sought to find you, and | did so, only to lose you. “In the past I know there have been bitter sorrows in our family, and you, who was born to occupy a station exalted among men, I find an outcast from his name and home, me @ non- cS (e(oynaiicel vey) (C .