Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 154 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

20 Joaquin, the Saddle King. ~-—oo——————- ‘Until your blows fell, where was a happier, lighter-hearted youth than I? But I chanced to cross your path. You were rich and power- ful, I poor arid: standing all alone in the world. You thought it would be so easy to brush me aside forever, and you made the attempt. But I still live, and you—you sowed the wind, and now you must reap the whirlwind!” ‘*] was wrong—lI see it now—but I will make amends. Iam rich—name your price—” quin saw that hé was near the outskirts of a | dle, halting the fugitive’s horse in its track by small patch of timber. The moonlight was | an exertion of strength that seemed more than sufficient to reveal this, but beyond that, he | mortal. was all at sea, and turned his horse to clear the ** At last, Don Manuel Camplido!” he cried, bis cover, knowing that a short survey of the sur- | voice ringing with a deadly exultation, his rounding country would soon enable him to , handsome countenance transformed to that of place himself. . | a veritable demon by bitter passions. Scarcely had he worked clear of the bushes Don Manuel read his doom in those blazing | when the dull beating of a horse’s hoofs in full | eyes, and a merges as hissed through his * gallop upon the sandy soil startled him, and like | tigbtly clinched teeth as he drew his saber and anagic Joaquin was tally aroused and on the alert. There was no need to search for the rider. He was passing abreast of the timber island, not more than two hundred yards away. Short though the distance by agree , the 2noon seemed to cast a peculiar haze about the horseman that rendered the outlines indistinct and phantom-like, Yet at the first glance, Joa- quin’s heart gave a great bound, his eyes filled with the same deadly light that Pedro Canales barely had time to notice ere thé death-noose cl around his throat, and his breath came fast and hot as he believed he recognized the horseman—that fate had listened to his bitter prayer, aud now threw Don Manual Camplido across his path with none to interfere! Anda shrill, mad yell nearly split his throat as he buried the rowels of his spurs in the flanks of his horse, and leaped forward in chase. Yet it must have been instinct rather than eyesight that served him, for the phantom-like rider was indeed Don Manuel Camplido, on his way to his rancho, after the parting with his fair captive which the reader has witnessed. The ex-captain of lancers beard that mad yell—saw the wild rider burst out from the shadowy haze which surrounded the motte, and knew that he was the object of that impetuous charge. He did not recognize the horseman— did not pause for a second glance to learn his identity or to see whether or ho he had com- nions. A coward born, he ty only of nding safety in flight. His horse jwas jaded, but the rancho was not so far distant, and if he could bold hisown fora half-score miles, all would be well. - Searcely had thistremembrance flashed upon him, when a summons came from the rear that fairly eurdled his blood with horror, for he now knew the avenger on his track! ‘‘ Halt! cowardly dog and son-of-a-dog!” cried the young Sonorian, his voice ringing out like the trump of doom. ‘Halt! Don ‘Manuel Cam- plido—I am Joaquin Murieta! Turn and face me like a man, or I will kill you as you run!” Perhaps the race would have endéd sooner had Joaquin been content to pursue in silence, for after that first brief stupor, Camplido plied both spurs and whip in frantic fear. At no time would he have dared to meet a man like the vaquero in deadly combat on anything like equal terms, much less now, when Joaquin had risen like a ghost out of the night, mites from where he supposed him lying in irons, a helpless captive, subject to his evil will. There seemed to be something supernatural about it, and Don Manuel was bathed in a cold perspiration from head to foot as he urged his snorting horse on in mad flight. As though realizing his error, Joaquin did not repeat his challenge, but devoted every en- ergy to overhauling bis craven enemy. Once again were the equestrian rivals pitted against each other, but now the conditions were more equal. There was no Pedro Canales near to alter the fiat of fortune. Above them the clear and now cloud-free moon, before them a broad, sandy level. The best horse must win, for of the men there could be no comparison. And yet a cornered coward will sometimes fight desperately and to the bitter end. With a degree of fierce joy that no words can fitly describe, Joaquia saw that he was gaining ground, slowly but surely. Either his horse was the superior animal, or less wearied—per- haps both. Don Manuel was assuredly getting every ounce of work out of his mount, for he felt that he was riding for life! Time and again did Joaquin raise his cocked ‘revolver as ke drew on the tugitive until only a few rods separated them, but as often was his hand lowered. Not that he doubted his skill. Even by that uncertain light, he could have sent ball after ball home to the black heart of the wretch before him, but as often there came to him the memory of Carmela Felix and her oeril. The villain should die, but not at once. e must be made to confess all, first. Don Manuel Camplido knew that he was steadily being overhauled, for he could hear the ipid thud of hoofs drawing nearer and nearer, yobs he could not pluck up courage enough to .saw his pistols and fire upon his enemy. His filing horse had already stumbled more than once. To relax his gripe upon the reins might be fatal to his hopes, faint as those were, and shivering with mortal terror, he still plied the merciless quirt, still scored the bloody flanks with his spurs. But his most desperate efforts could not long protract the unequal race. uin struck his noble mount twice with the whip, then dropped it and leaned far forward as he forged i te side his enemy, making a swift and sure gras at the reins, taen drew himself erect in the sad- 2 NL a Se Se . eS ee ot — nee If again, every sense | = a savage blow at his rival. | nce again nothing but his marvelous quick- ness could bave saved Joaquin from death. The savage attack was wholly unexpected, but he swiftly threw himself to one side, and the keen weapon, instead of taking effeet as its owner intended, struck tke horse ridden by Joaquin on the neck with such force that its‘head was nearly severed from its body! CHAPTER XVIII. ‘* CONFESS ALL, OR DIE!” AtmostT decapitated, the horse ridden by Joa- quin Murieta gave one spasmodic plunge for- ward, then fell heavily together with the young Sonorian, who was unable to recover his bal- ance in time to prevent his own fall. Luckily he managed to free his feet from the se pi and escape from being crushed beneath the body of the death-stricken animal. Don Manuel Cam- plido, the fury of despair still upon him, sought to follow up the advantage thus unexpectedly noe te and urged his jaded horse forward, his ood-stained saber flashing in the "moonlight as he dealt a second blow at Joaquin, who was just scrambling to his feet. But once more he was doomed to bitter disappointment—and worse. Catlike, Joaquin avoided the stroke, the same motion carry ng him under and beyond the horse ridden by his enemy. And then, before Don Manuel Camplido could recover ‘his bal- ance, destroyed the force of his unresisted blow, the young Sonorian leaped into the air and alighted’ on the croup of his adversary’s horse. Uttering a howlin Don Manuel swung curse of angry despair, is keen weapon around, but Joaquin caught bis wrist and tore the saber from his grasp, hurling it far away. Then his sinewy fingers closed about Camplido’s throat like the stern gripe of relentless fate. ‘“‘ Dog—devil—you are mine—mine at last!” he hissed, his voice more like that of a demon than the man whom Don Manuel Camplido had formerly known. Fiercer and more deadly grew his , and, though he felt himself but a child in the gripe of the youth whom he had so bitterly wronged, Don Manuel made one more effort to save him- self—and failed! Yet the struggle was sufficient to destroy their balance, and the rivals fell head- long from the back of the horse, who made a few frightened bounds, then stood still with droop- ing head and heaving flanks. ; Joaquin made no attempt to save himself, but clung to the throat of his enemy like a leech, nor did the shock, as they struck the ground heavily, separate them. Tbat horrible lust for blood was again upon him, and for the time being he was more demon than man. Not until the form of Don Manuel Camplido lay in bis grasp like a mass of lifeless clay did the’ blood-red mist that danced before his vision fade away—not until then did Joaquin remem- ber that through the confession of this man alone could he hope to learn aught of Carmela Felix. Again that strong reaction overtook him, and if the ghastly, distorted countenance into which he gazed so anxiously, was not already that of a dead man, Don Manuel Camplido was insured a fresh lease of life. Where Joaquin had tried his utmost to destroy, he now sought to restore by every means in his power, and after a space of almost breathless doubt. and anxiety bis efforts were rewarded. A husky, spasmodic groan, and then Don Manuel Camplido fully opened his eyes. He was like one dazed, and uncertain whether he was in this world or the next, but then his eyes fell.upon the dark face bending over him, and a hollow groan of utter despair told that reason had returned. ‘*Curse you!” he gasped, ‘‘ why did you not finish your work -why bring me back to life when [ had passed all the bitterness of death?’ The dark, handsome face above him, lightened up with a smile that was almost satanic, fitly matching the short, hard laugh that bore it company. : ‘* Bah! did you think my vengeance could be so easily satisfied? You say you have suffered all the bitterness of death; poor fool! the time is near when you will recall this experience with regret—when its memory will seem like a taste of heaven's purest bliss in comparison with the tortures you then endure! Instead of one, you shall suffer the agony of ten thousand deaths and as you finally yield to the horrible strain, i will curse myself for having so poorly satis- fied the hatred I bear you!” e. Mercy, demon—for you cannot be a man “Tam what you and yours made me, dog!” hoarsely cried Joaquin, bis sinewy fingers hov- esses “The last drop of blood from your black heart!” fiercely interrupted Murieta. ‘ True, you shall make amends, but it must be when and asI choose. Little by little I will extort (Set hele ang of the measureless debt you owe me. ut first, as the shadow of atonement, you shall acknowledge the truth of this foul plot against Don Felix and his daughter—” While Joaquin was speaking, a sudden change came over Don Manuel Camplido for he believed that one chance was left him which, if rightly managed, might insure him both life and lib- erty. The thought inspired him with a sort of desperation, and he interrupted his rival with a hollow laugh. ‘“Kill me—murder me, and by doing so, dash your dearest hopes to the ground forever!” he cried, hoarsely. A no less complete change came over the young Sonorian. The malignant scowl faded away, and a smile took its place—a smile, yet so truly diabolical even in its gentleness, that Don Manuel felt his blood curdle with renewed horror. “Sol even aworm will turn when trodden upon!” and Joaquin coughed softly. “ Will you kindly explain your words?” The desperate viilain shuddered, for that seem- ing mirth was more terrible to him than the fiercest outburst of rage, but he mustered up courage enough fe reply: ‘““Upon my life hangs that of Carmela Felix. 1 left her in the handsof men who know no will but mine. If aught disastrous happens to me, orif I fail to return within a certain time, she will be put to death. Knowing this, you will not harm me, or even hold me prisoner.” ‘*Indeed!” sneered the young Sonorian. “Every word you utter isa lie. You had no thought ef personal danger when you left the lady. You believed mea helpless captive in your foul dungeon, and your plans were so rh er laid that none save your comrades in evil could ever suspect the truth, consequently you left no such orders. But even granting that you.did so order, the remedy is simple enough. You will give me an order on your ruffians for the lady—” ; ‘* Never!” cried Don Manuel Camplido des- perately. ** Never isa strong word, and should not be spoken lightly,” softly laughed Joaquin, - va tha gp by aman occupying your critical position. Peculiar arguments can be brought to bear, and if managed rightly, cannot fail to convince you that obstinacy is a sad mistake.” ** You mean to torture me?” **T mean to make you confess the whole truth—yes.” “You will give me life and liberty if I tell all?” ‘“‘T make no terms with such as_ you, Don Manuel,” was the cold response. ‘* You shall speak out, freely or by force. After that we will discuss the end of all.” Don Manuel Camplido said no more, but relapsed into a sullen silence, seemingly yield- ing to his fate, yet covertly tino a3 for an opening by taking advantage of which he might possibly turn the tables on his enemy. It came sooner than he expected. Joaquin turned his head toward the spot where his dead horse lay, and the bright mocn- beams fell upon the polished haft of a knife at his waist. Swift as thought Camplido made a at this, and as he felt the weapon come away in his hand, he madea vicious stroke at Joa- quin’s heart. But he had to deal with one who was never more on = than when seemingly wholly off it, and the keen weapon only slit open the young Sonorian’s shirt as its wearer, warned by the pluck at bis girdle, twisted his lithe body to one side. And then a revolver butt fell heavily upon the desperate villain’s head, knocking him back senseless. First satisfying himself that this unconscious- ness was genuine, Joaquin replaced his weapous and arose, Phebe te his limited horizon with an eagle glance. — human was in sight save his enemy and himself. “Yet it would not be safe,” he muttered, thoughtfully. ‘* The rancho is only a few miles away, and few eyes will be locked in slumber there this night! The villain, coward though he is, knows that his only hope lies in keeping close the information I seek, and love of life would lend him strength to bear considerable torture before yielding. It will take both time and patience—and there I weuld fail. Let me begin to taste my revenge, and I feel that I[ would go mad—I would lose all self-cont1 ol, and never let up until I had drained his heart 9? Pa . . . There was the possibility, too, of being inter- rupted by some of Don Manuel’s friends or fol. Pp , ering close to his wretched rival’s throat. ' lowers, and the rancho was not so far distant MIGOOOKSAG (E() . on - —- é =. — EE —— —_— * — a