Beadle's Dime Library No. 170 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

| } * ~ only parent she ever Sweet William, the Trapper Detective. 23 its back a tangle of old rope and straps that served aS harness, he hitched the animal to a two-wheeled, rickety cart, and announced his readiness. ‘“Follow me, then—but not too closely,” said Gerald. “If we meet anybody, strike off as though upon your own hook. If I am connect- ed with the affair in the minds of any of the people, I'll find out a way of getting even with you, in something more than money—mind that.” Without a word the old man followed at a re- spectful distance. Fortunately for their peace of mind, they met nobody on the way, and in less than an hour from the time he parted from his captive, Gerald was at his side again. ‘*- You see, I am better than my word,” was his salutation. ‘‘ The carriage is not quite so fine as you deserve, but it will serve the pur- pose. Come, old man. Take his feet—so!’’ and the bound man was rudely tossed into the cart. ‘*Pull some leaves and branches to cover him over. Mind where you drive, and dodge any person whom you may see, or you'll lose your money, sure!” Gerald struck out in advance, to serve as a sort of scout, but the precaution was needless. The hut was reached and Leo unloaded without their being seen by any curious eyes. Repeat- ing his caution, Evans strode rapidly away. — cianen squatted down before his prize, with grim delight. Leo strove to speak so earnestly that his face grew red and the big veins stood out upon his forehead and neck as though they would burst. The miser grew alarmed. What if he should choke—die smothered? Instead of the reward, he might be accused of murder, de- spite the significant words, ‘‘ Dead or alive!” Bringing a gourdful of water, he removed the gag, but Leo pushed the water aside, husk- ily muttering: ‘‘Set me free for one hour, and [ll give you two hundred dollars, besides returning here for rou to give me up, if you will. I swear it! More than life depends—” The door flew open and a mocking laugh was heard, Gerald Evans entered, and said, stern- ly: < Replace that gag, old man, and don’t you dare remove it again. If you play me false and accept his offer, I swear that you shall hang in his stead. Remember, I saw you rid- ing with him, in your cart, aiding him to es- cape !” we CHAPTER XXVIII. , A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE. BELLE GLADDEN arose and proceeded about her daily duties quite as usual on the morning succeeding the strange revelation made by the new. But her face was pale and there was a deeper look of pain in her eyes. She had been tried almost beyond her endurance in the last few days. Her lover an outlaw, a price upon her head; her father a fu- gitive, accuséd of assassination, if indeed the blood of a murdered man did not really stain his hands. She fought against that fear, but it would return. She would not believe him guilty—yet the burden of proof was so over- whelming; and did not her mother—his own wife—believe him guilty of the crime? . In hardly better case was Anderson Gladden. He had come to look upon his niece as his own child, years ago, and to renounce his claim to her filial love was indeed a heavy blow to him. He noticed her agitation and depression, and, naturally but foolishly believed that she looked upon him something in the light of an impostor, who had covertly received the sacred love that belonged to another, And believing this, the sight of her sad face made him feel really guilty. He fought against the morbid feelin until after dinner, then took down bis rifle an set out upon a long tramp through the woods. . Thus fortune was, apparently, aiding Gerald Evans in every quarter. Had Anderson Gladden remained at home as customary, or had he returned at an earlier hour—but he did not. The hand of fate was in it all. ; The sun sunk to rest, leaving a blood-red trail bebind it. The scarlet deepened to crimson, then purple, until the rich wine color faded Aa and blended with the sober gray of twi- ight. elle, tired of waiting supper, had sent the black woman over to the town, in hopes of find- ing Anderson Gladden, whose prolonged absence was causing her no little uneasiness. She was sitting upon the front porch, musing deeply. tak form crossed a over the stile and neared the maiden, whose head was lifted with a start, as the faint sound of footsteps forced themselves upon her hearing, A woman, from the drapery, but who? The face was hidden beneath a sunbonnet, and Belle did not recognize the figure at first. ‘You are alone? There is no one near enough to hear my words, besides yourself?” whispered a deep, peculiarly impressive voice, and the woman cast a swift, suspicious glance around her. ‘‘T do not know you,” and Belle arose, half- alarmed. The woman threw back her sunbonnet. It was Nell Larkin, widow of the man for whose murder Leo Friend was outlawed. ‘* You need not be afraid,” and the ex-actress’s voice sounded lew and mournful. ‘‘ [have been bitterly wronged, but my heart is too sore for me to cherish resentful feelings toward even those who have bereaved me. You I have learned to love, from the words of one who sent me here to-night— You are sure no one can overhear us? It might be death to him who sent me—” ' The maiden’s heart leaped wildly. Those words, she felt, could only refer to one, to Leo Friend. It was only by a powerful exertion of will that she said, clearly: : “There is no person about the place but us wo. me?” “One whose name must not be spoken here. They are hunting him to death—Gerald Evans and his friends. He must flee for life—must be far away from here before another day dawns —but he cannot go without one word with you. He bade me add my pleading to his prayers— what he has written bere. Read it, and as you hope for mercy hereafter, do not refuse the first —it may also be the last—request of one who has the right to command your obedience.” As she spoke, Nell Larkin slipped a small bit of — into the maiden’s hand. Bewildered, confused, Belle read the few lines it contained. A cry of pain broke from her lips, as though — heavy hand had stricken her a cruel ow. ‘*Remember, he is your father,” uttered the voice of the woman. ‘ More sinned against than sinning. It may be the last chance that will ever be given you forobeying him. Before another day he may be dead, even if you grant his prayer. If you refuse, he will die certain, since he will not flee until he has seen you. They are hunting him hard and fiercely. Can you hesitate, knowing that his life hangs upon your decision?” **T will go—where is he?’ asked the maiden, faintly. ; “At my house. Get your bonnet and a shawl, quickly. You must not be recognized, or the truth may be suspected.” Too utterly bewildered for reflection, Belle obeyed, hastening to her room and returning with breathless speed. Nell Larkin grasped herarm and held it firmly, resolved that Sie victim should not escape her toils. Keeping in the densest shadow, and making a circuit around the village to avoid observation that might produce unpleasant consequences when the abduction should become known, an hour’s fast walking carried them to the rude dwelling where the drover’s widow lived. All was still and dark around the place, usu- ally so uproarious with the voices of children. But an answering signal came from within, as Nell Larkin tap at the door. ‘* Remember,” she breathed in her trembling companion’s ear,” it is your father who awaits you,” then opened the door and pushed Belle over the threshold. A pair of strong arms received her in a close embrace, and warm lips were pres ardently to hers, stifling a little ery of dawns Nell Lar- kin entered and closed the door, then struck a match and lighted.a candle. A shriek of terror that was promptly checked by the m of the man’s hand—two laughs, one malignantly triumphant, the other hard and contemptuous. The base imposition was revealed by the dim light of the tallow candle. In the man whose arms were embracing her so closely, almost fiercely, Belle Gladden recog- nized Gerald Evans. “The more you struggle, the worse you will be treated,” he said, with a sneering laugh. ‘* Submit to the inevitable, and lady never had a gentler guardian than I will prove to you.” ‘Let me go—you have no right to detain me—” “Might makes right, darling. Last night it was your turn, and Anderson Gladden’s; to- night it is mine. Though you may be angry now, or think you are, the time will come when you will thank me for this gentle force—” “Enough of this, Gerald Evans,” interposed Nell Larkin. ‘I have faithfully performed my part of the contract; keep yours, and then go your way. I will run no more risk, and if you are wise, you will lose no time in getting your prize under safe cover. She may te missed at any moment, and if the old man once strikes your trail, | pity you!” “The money is there, on the table. Count it and satisfy yourself. Then go bring up my horse,” he said, tersely. “T'll take it on trust, because I know you dare not deceive me,” laughed the woman, leaving the house. ‘* Now, darling, as you are about to take a long ride in the damp night air, I must guard our lungs against the cold—and giving me trouble. You must pardon me, but ly I cannot help this seeming rudeness, though it cuts mé to the heart’s core.” With a rapid dexterity, Gerald Evans twisted a silk handkerchief around the maiden’s head, leaving her nostrils free enough for respiration, What do you mean? Who sent you to. but effectually sealing her lips against all dan- ger of outcry. **Come,” im tiently uttered Nell Larkin, — the door.. “Your horse is ready. ive me the girl. Mount, and [ll hand her up to you afterwards.” “Handle with care. That little package is worth an even half-million to me,” he laughed as he sprung into the saddle. ‘‘So! now my bonny bride, for a wild gallop through the for- est at night, as an ante-nuptial trip!” Touching his free spirited horse with the spur, he dashed swiftly along the winding bridle- path, soon striking the lonely road that led to the Foster cabin. Belle seemed utterly crushed in spirit, unable to struggle against the cruel fate that awaited her. With a low laugh, Gerald Evans con- gratulated himself upon the ease with which his dangerous plans were being wrought out. Leo Friend a prisoner, in a fair way to die upon the gallows for a crime which he never com- mitted; and Belle Gladden a helpless captive in his hands, with a large fortune almost within his grasp. The devil indeed was aiding his own! attie Foster was alone at the house, having sent Naney away for the night. Though the girl was perfectly trustworthy and wholly de- voted to her mistress, it was decided to trust no more than was absolutely necessary. Promptly at Gerald’s signal, Mattie opened the door, and held the horse while Evans car- ried Belle into the crimson room. As he re- turned to put up his animal, Mattie hasiened back to her rival, her ill-trained heart in a wild tumult. Gerald found her amusing herself much asa cat plays with a helpless mouse. Nor was heat all averse to joining in the delectable sport. The poor girl was like a lamb between two wolves. “Mercy? yes! The same kind of mercy which you showed me, when you lured my lover from my side; only you sought to rob me of a husband, while [ am helping to secure you one. And yet, I am merciful. You will be far away from here with your husband, and so will not be an eye-witness of the happiness of those whom you strove to separate.” ‘You are speaking in riddles, Mattie.” said Gerald, a malignant devil in hiseye. ‘“ You remember the signs made by Leo Friend, last night, at your house, darling? Those sigus said that he was a member of the Crimson Clan, and so he is, ae not Captain Moonlight, as peo- le think. anks to your beauty and sweet ips, he was for a time inclined to w off his egiance to the League, and in consequence came very near meeting the reward of atraitor. But an interview with this lady brought him to his sober senses, and he was received once more as a true and worthy member. To prove his earnestness, be is at this moment robbing old Denbree of his horses. One week from to m 7 he will marry Miss Mattie, here.” ‘‘ That is a lie, base as your own heart!” cried Belle, angered beyond endurance by the insult- er’s taunts. ** Leo Friend is a man, and as such, which do you think be would be most apt to choose—you or me?” cried Mattie, proudly, rising erect with outstretched arms. ‘*‘ You, a e, doll-face, weak and insipid as skim-milk—’ Just bow far the woman’s anger would have carried her, will never be known, for at that moment a shrill whistle came from without, but so deadened by the rapid trampling of hoofs, that its exact purpose could not be guessed. The same fear was written upon the faces of both conspirators; that the Vigilance Committee was afoot, perhaps upon the trail of the abduct- ed maiden. | ““Give me warning if it is them,” hissed Evans, looking to his pistols. ‘Ill make my mark upon some of them!” Mattie did not wait for him to conclude, but left the room and took a stealthy peep outside. Only for a moment her suspense lasted, then she flung widethe door. The riders were two of the men who went out to rob Denbree. Stop- ping on the road to secure their own horses, they had hastened to spread the news of their ee eae among their friends, hissed Mattie, in a rage. CHAPTER XXIX, | A HARD FIGHT FOR LIFE. ‘ Wnuo did the p’izen critter shoot?’ demanded Sweet William as he bore his struggling captive back into the little glade. “ o was it he massacreed?” ‘* It’s the boss—shot plum’ through the head,” was the prompt, theugh low and almost awe- stricken reply. “Ef you’ve killed him, old man,” and Sweet William tightened his grip upon the prisoner's throat; ‘‘may the Lord hev mercy on your sin- ful soul, fer durned ef I do! You fellers—all but Dan scatter an’ hunt fer p'izen snakes. Rub out all you cain’t take captive. Don’t Jet even the ow 0’ one git away, ur the bull prefor- mance is dished. oot!” } The old trapper’s orders were instantly obeyed. called Dan, Sweet William added: ‘*Ef he kicks around too much, or tries to NiGDOOKS (E(@) ght, q ’ new he was a traitor—that Hunter!” Handing his captive over to the man (qe) a a4 ra