Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 154 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

Se ._— we . trembling as Joaquin lea re ee + Joaquin, the Saddle King. 5 ~ longer dwelt upon the man whom he had so thoroughly humiliated and left lying in the dust with the track of a bullet creasing his skull, ‘*T must see her—ay! even though I ride up to the gates and demand an audience with the roud don himself!” and Joaquin flung back his ong locks with a defiant toss of his handsome head as he galloped on with free rein. ‘‘ The will give me little law before the bloodbounds strike my trail. Let me see Carmela, and if she prove the true woman I believe, we will laugh at their pursuit. If not—if she says me nay—well, there will be music in the air and fresh food in plenty for the buzzards!” His keen eyes swept the plain before him in search of the fair rider whom he longed to meet, but his brow grew darker as the distance dividing him from the Felix hacienda lessened without bis hopes being rewarded. Time was especially valuable to him now. Camplido would not rest easy under his shame- ful defeat. Even at that moment he might be setting his cunning tools upon the death-trail. The Felix hacienda was situated in a pleasant tract. Here and there were scattered clumps of trees, like islands on the bosom of a a ocean, and, hoping against bope, Joaquin spe along, searching these one by one. Suddenly he checked his horse, and shading his eyes with one hand, gazed breathlessly toward one of the mottes which he had but recently assed by. And then a joyous exclamation urst from his lips as he beheld a female figure emerge from the foliage, waving a light scarf as though in hopes of attracting his attention. The distance was too great for an unassisted eye to recognize features of the human face, but with the intuition of a true lover, Joaquin di- vined the truth, and, wheeling, sped swiftly to- ward the motte, while the maiden, when assured that her signal was being answered, glided back into the cool shadows, It was indeed Carmela Felix, blushing and d to the ground, hastily securing bis horse, then hastened to her side and impulsively gathered her to his bosom, pressing hot kisses upon her ripe lips. With a faint, half-angry, half-abashed cry the maiden slipped from his embrace, her eyes flash- ing her bosom panting with mingled shame and indignation. “It is cowardly to take advantage of my in- discretion—you would not dare—” she panted, but paused as the ‘‘T crave your pardon, lady,” he breathed oftly, a new and strange sadness in bis voice | that startled her. ‘“ I was wild, insane—I knew uot what I was doing.” [ trusted you so implicitly,” added Carmela, but her voice was softer, and a less agitated ob- server might have seen that she was not mortal- ly offended, after all, *T admit my sin, but I could not help it. When { remem ered that we may never mect again— ‘What do you mean?” faltered. Carmela. “Only that I am a hunted fugitive, fleein for life from a bitter enemy against whose life dare not lift my band even in self-defense, be- cause it is dear to you—” ‘“‘My father—surely there is some mistake” ‘* Not your father, lady, but your betrothed, Don Manuel Camplido,” quickly responded Joa- quin, watching her closely as he spoke, for he felt that his whole future depended upon the answer she made. ‘‘He? I hate—I loathe and despise him!” impatiently cried Carmela, and there was no shade of hypocrisy in the frown of utter disgust that sbaded her fair brow. Joaquin caught his breath quickly, scarcely daring to believe his ears. He placed his hand upon the maiden’s shoulder an her face to the clear light of the evening sun, gazing keenly, eagerly into her lustrous eyes. ut he read no deception there, and a flood of joy filled his heart, as he once more clasped her to his breast, regardless of her faint strug- gles. ‘Thank Heaven! I feared that you loved that craven villain who is not worthy to kiss the earth your dainty feet tread upon! My darling—my own—for mine you mtr and the aoe n your jak og A Aa ba armela no longer struggled to free herself from his ardent ernbtader form yielded, her head drooped upon his shoul- der, and as if unconsciously her red-ripe lips pouted—then were hidden by his. It was the purest, holiest moment of the young Sonorian’s life, for he knew now that he was loved even as he himself adored; but then a soft, regretful sigh issued from the maiden’s bosom, and the former shade of anxiety re- turned to her fair brow. ‘A blissful dream, but it cannot last!” she young Sonorian stood before | her with bowed head, the picture of repentance. | gently turned | Instead, her lithe | : | | | | | ighed. ‘‘For a moment I forgot what you | said—that your life is in danger—” Her speech was checked by an ardent kiss, then Joaquin said, with a light, careless laugh: “The only danger that I dreaded is past, darling —the dread that you love another. Now that I am convinced of the glad truth— mow that I know you love me, I can laugh all the rest to scorn. If Manuel Camplido tries to make more trouble, so much the worse for “He will murder you—” ‘“* He tried that to-day, and I read him a les- son that he will not readily forget,” interposed Joaquin, then eth telling her what had transpired at the Santa Anna rancho. ** You did not kill him?” “No. I was not quite certain how you re- garded him, and only creased his thick skull with my bullet. No doubt he is now up and about, setting his bloodhounds on my trail—not for the first time, either. But I foiled them then, and have no doubts as to baffling them again.” ‘He is an unscrupulous enemy, and even more to be dreaded than a braver man, for he will not deal his blows openly. I fear for you, Joaquin!” **My hand can guard my head, darling, never fear. Now that l am secure in the knowledge of your love, I care little for what that rascal can do,” ‘** But, alas! there is worse behind, and I have not yet told you why I signaled you so anxious- ly. Hold me close, dear Joaquin—let me feel our heart throbbing against mine, or I cannot nd courage to tell you all.” Willingly enough the young Sonorian obeyed, but his pulses beat more rapidly at her mourn- ful tones. ' ‘Evil eyes have been upon us when we least thought it, and evil tongues have spoken of our frequent meetings to my father. st night he questioned me closely, and I told him the truth —the whole truth as I believed, for, dear Joaquin, strange as it may seem, I never dreamed of love in connection with you until— until you acted so impetuously when we met just now,” she bravely concluded, after a brief, charming confusion. ‘You do not know my father. He is very roud and stern. I believe he loves me dearly, ut he told me then, and his tones were far more bitter than Lever before heard, that rather than see me mate below my rank, be would kill me with his own hand!” “Yet he could force you to wed Manuel Cam- lido—who bears the brand of cowardice oe is back—who is a known drunkard, libertine, and more than suspected of being a chief of salteadores,” bitterly cried Murieta. ‘*Hush!” and her dainty palm rested upon her lover’s lips, ‘* Remember that he is my fa- ther, and that you must never utter a harsh word against him in my hearing. I cannot ex- plain the whole truth now, but I know that at | first father was strongly opposed to Cam- “Tt was very wrong—almost shameful—when | lido, and even now he barely tolerates his suit. y brother Luis is at the bottom of it all, I fear—I°know that he has been very reckless. In some manner Camplido holds him in his power —can bestow life or death at will. Luis is the heir to our proud name. He is father’s idol, and for his sake father has consented to sacri- fice me. “This much I am sure of. some points which are a mystery to me. There are still But on the other score there can be no doubt. He will never consent to our union—” The maiden abruptly paused, a look of pale terror overspreading her face, her limbs trem- pt Se that they almost refused to support her weight, as a heavy footstep was heard crashing through the undergrowth and plainly nearing their place of concealment. **Mother of ercy !” she gasped in an agonized tone. ‘ Flee, Joaquin! ’Tis my father —flee—flee at once!” At the first sound Joaquin had drawn a pistol, which he still held in his hand, but he mage no motion to obey the nearly distracted girl. Could he have beaten a retreat without betray- ing them both, doubtless he would have ridden away, for the maiden’s sake, but he knew that discovery was inevitable, and his strong arm only wound more closely around the fear- stricken form. “Too late, darling,” he whispered encour- agingly. “The harm, if harm there is, is already wrought. There is no crime in an honest love, and I will not slink away like a thief in the night, leaving you to bear the brunt of his displeasure.” There was no time for a reply, even if Car- mela had been able to make one, for a tall, ‘ay-haired and bearded man pushed through e bushes and confronted the lovers. It was indeed Don Felix, the beau ideal of a haughty Spanish don, and the severe frown deepened upon his stern brow as he beheid his child in the embrace of the audacious vaquero. Carmela, with suddenly restored strength, freed herself from Joaquin’s arms, and with a leading logk, stood between her lover and her ather, her ashen lips trying in vain to fashion a plea for forbearance and mercy. But the strong arm of Don Felix brushed her aside, and a bitter smile curled bis lip as he noted the weapon held by Murieta. **Complete your work, low-born dog! Murder the father, since you have disgraced the daugb- ter!” fell in bitter accents from his lips. ‘‘ You can do so without fear, since I am unarmed.” Joaquin’s brow contracted darkly, and he Ma: \ a EE EEE SSB 2.:2:0C—@&29898998& Ss was forced to bite his lip until the blood flowed, to keep back the hot retort. He replaced his revolver, then spoke: “*I drew my pistol to punish the sneaking spy I believed was coming, for I knew not who else would dare intrude upon our privacy. I ask your pardon for my mistake. And now, in answer to your taunt—had those foul words fallen from any other ps than yours—her "shy oe speaker would ha reath that uttered them grew cold upon bis lips. Your daughter is as pure now as when she first lay upon her mother’s bosom!” ‘Pure in the one sense, no doubt, but shame- fully degraded by granting clandestine meetings to a slave like you—” **Stop, Senor Don Felix,” sharply interposed Murieta. ‘You are letting your anger carry you too far. In every respect save that of wealth alone, my family is the peer of your. You shall be given every opportunity to inve:- tigate-— is speech was cut short by an insolent shrug of the shoulders as the haughty 8 made reply: KY have not the slightest curiosity on that int. You are an unwelcome intruder here. ake your departure, and never dare return on penalty of being scourged with rods by my peons and hunted down with my dogs!” ‘Those are hard words, for which you may yet be sorry, Don Felix,” said Joaquin, calmly enough, but with a flushed cheek and kindling eye. “You dare to threaten me, on my own grounds?’ cried the Spaniard, raising the pliant whip which he held. \ **Father—for my sake!” cried Carmela, cling - ing to his arm, tears streaming over her pale cheeks. ‘*Go to the house, shameless girl, and leave me alone to deal with this insolent bravo!” an- grily cried the enra father, flinging Carmela rom him with such force that she staggered and would have fallen but for Joaquin’s ready arm, ‘*{ meant no threat, nor did I utter one, Don Felix,” the young Sonorian said, drawing the sobbing maiden close to his side. ‘‘ You must acknowledge as much when your present pas- sion dies away. Nor can you then blame ne for loving your child. I saved her life at the risk of my own. I do not recall this as a boast, but to in part explain why I dared raise m\ eyes in love to one so far above my apparent! station in life. It was only this evening that t learned Carmela returned my love, and now, a5 the first opportunity, I ask you, humbly anc. with a full knowledge of the worth of the treas- ure I crave, to grant your consent to our speedy union.” At these bold but perfectly respectful words, Carmela raised her moist eyes in sudden hope that they would soften her stern parent, if not lead to his consent, but her heart grew cold with horror as she saw how terribly the proud old don was enraged by what he deemed the inso- lence of this demand. He tried to speak, but wrath choked his ut- terance. His rage mu°t find some vent, and a his whip, he struck Joaquin full in the ace! In an instant the weapon was wrested from his grasp and bung quivering over his head, but an appealing cry broke from Carmela’s lips, and Joaquin hurled the whip far from him. One kiss he pressed upon her lips, then turned away and leaped into the saddle. CHAPTER IV. THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER. JOAQUIN sat erect enough in the saddle as he rode away from the timber island, but his brain throbbed and reeled like that of a drunken man. Never before had he suffered the indignity of a blow without returning it with interest, and now the red wale across his cheek burned and smarted like a streake of living fire. Never be- fore had he been called upon to endure such a bitter ordeal, and great as was his love for Carmela Felix, he knew that he must flee from that spot in haste, or else wipe out the insult in the life-blood of her father, thus building an impassable barrier between them forever. He paid no attention to the course his horse was following, he was conscious only of that shame- ful blow, heard only the biting taunts hurled at him by the proud old don. Then, like one awakening from a dream, the young Sonorian became conscious of a husky panting voice calling aloud his name, and hear the heavy —— of ner close behind him. Wheeling, his face flushed, his eyes glaring, his weapons flashed forth, for his first instinct was that he had been followed by Don Felix and his myrmidons; but only one man confronted him, and that by no means the most warlike—an o!d gray-beard whose frame was trembling, whe:e voice was cracked and gasping with the despor- ate efforts he had made to overtake the hoise- man. ‘“* Mother of Mercy, Senor Murieta,” he stam- mered, shrinking away from the half-insane rider, ‘‘ lt am no Lediit: noenemy of yours, Lut a friend. Hold hard—art thou crazy!” eee eee ve died before the © com Ebooks .co