Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 183 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

a ce el ae ae ee -- ' . ret re ee i IR a a ee tt ani -" 22 Gilbert, the Guide. nished the means. Helen dropped upon her knees and poured out her thanks to the Su- preme Being for age! ig | his kind hand to save her lover’s life. ith an angry exclama- tion the chief dragged her away and clasped ber arm so tightly that she uttered an excla- mation of pain. ‘‘ Hold on, Darromed,” said an angry voice. ““Toat sort of thing won’t do. I did not give " -you any license to hurt the girl.” The speaker came forward, and though his face was now cleaned, and his dress changed, Pat had no difficulty in recognizing the man who had decoyed them into the ambuscade. ** Arrah, ye dirthy divil!” bowled Pat, ‘‘ L’ave Then would you reconsider the refusal you “Very good; see that you keep to that idea gave me at your father’s house, a year ago?’ and I will make it worth your while. lama Helen instantly arose and looked at him with | very. good fellow as long as you do not make a fixed gaze, which caused him, in spite of bis | me trouble, and when you do, I am one of the effrontery, to turn a variety of colors, and | worst men in the world. I have set my heart swear inwardly. = en a certain object, and I intend to accom- ‘You would take advantage of that, then?’ | plish it.” she said, slowly. ‘‘A gentleman—at least one McKay strode away, leaving poor Pat stand- who deserved the name—would have thought | ing like a statue, staring after him, evidently twice before offering an insult of this kind toa | greatly troubled because he could not hit woman in my situation. You ask me to marry | him, you, as you asked me once before, and I re- “Oh, yis; a nice man ye ar’, av I do say it fuse.” phat shouldn’t. I’d like to be at a tay-party ‘‘ Remember where you are,” he said harshly. | wid two or t’ree jist such bla’gards as you be, ‘* You may need my help to get you out of the | alanah! Whoo, it hurts me til the sow] av me me loose, ye bla’g’ard; lave me loose, and I'll | hands of Darromed, and I am likely to refuse it | that I don’t dare to t’row a stone at ye an’ cave bate the hid av ye into a cullender. Ill l’'ave | if ron retain your presentopinions. An insult?| in yer hid. I’m to watch Miss Helen, am I? ye 80 full av holes that your mither won’t know > e.’ “Thank you, my fine fellow,” replied the other. ‘‘I donot propose to ‘lave you loose,’ By the burr under your tongue I should say that you ought to be a subject of Great Britain.” “Sure, av I was born undher the dirthy Gov- ernment av Great Britain, ye thafe av the wurruld w’u’d that be any raison phy I'd stay unther it? Not wunce! I’m a Yankee now, body an’ bones!” ** You don’t seem to know me, friend Pat,” said the man, ‘‘or your manner of speaking to me would be changed. Look at me a little closer and you will change your tune.” Pat looked at bim as requested, and a Judi- ecrous expression of alarm began to show itself upon his face. ““May the divil resave me, but it’s Capt’in McKay!” he roared. **Colonel, colonel, my man. His gracious majesty has seen fit to reward my years of faitnful service by making me a colonel, and I recognize in you my body-servant, and a regu- larly enlisted man, and consequently a deserter from his majesty’s 60th rifles. I am afraid you have got yourself into trouble, Monsieur Pat O'Driscoll.” ‘*Och, sure ye’ve mistaken the man, honey,” said Pat, ina wheedling tone. ‘‘I’m not Pat O’Driscoll at all, at all, yer honor, for he kem from county Antrim, and I was raised in the bogs among the Far-downs, Iniver saw ye before in all my life.” ‘*Bah!” replied McKay, who was a coarse, Saburaine-loclger personage, past the middle age. ‘Blarney is entirely thrown away upon me, and I never forget a face. I shall find it my duty to give you up to Major Campbell at Fort Miami, and have you shot as a deserter.” “* Faith, I wouldn’t’ do that, colonel dear,” said Pat. ‘“ Whin I left ye, I fear I was too sanguine in me expectations, for I thought I w’u’d scratch gould off the bushes in Ameriky. Pve got enough of it now, and w’u’d be pl’ased to go back till me ould place.” ‘You would run away the very first chance you ” McKay suggested. ** Divil a bit, colonel.” “Then Pll try what I can do for you, although you don’t deserve it,” said the Englishman, moving away. He had a sharp controversy with med before he would consent to give up his prisoner, but it ended in his being released and installed again as servent of the British agent. Helen had released herself from Darro- med and had seated herself at the foot of a tree, when she was aroused by the voice of McKay, who had come softly to the place where she sat, and was regarding her with a strange ex- pression. CHAPTER XX. COLONEL M’KAY. “‘T am sorry to see you a prisoner here, Miss Carlyon,” he said, softly. ‘‘ How did you hap- pen to fall into the hands of the Indians?” “You must ask your friend, Darromed,” re- plied Helen, sharply. “Ido not affect to mis- understand You, Calouel McKay, and I demand that you at once take steps to have me set at liberty.” “Excuse me if I ask how I can do that, Miss Helen? To be sure, I have some little influence, but it is not great enough to take you out of the hands of the chief after the events of the past few days.” “To what events do you refer?” “To the fighting upon the river, the attack upon the island, and the defeat of the Indians: the capture of Darromed, his imprisonment in the cave, and subsequent escape, and the re- yee e Guide, known as Gilbert, by Gande- ion. ‘* You seem to have a thorough knowledge of these events, sir.” McKay looked confused, and turned away his head to cover a look of anger. “T will try what I can do for you with the chief,” he said; ‘* but I fear I shall plead in vain, as he seems bent upon keeping you.” “You have been Nespitably received under my father’s roof, sir,” said Helen, ‘‘and you will make but a poor return if you will not do anything to save me from disgrace and shame.” ‘What would you do to free yourself from the bands of Darromed?” ‘* Anything—everything.” |McKay. “It is enough for you to know that | you are to obey me, and the first token of in- | | Fr | What do you mean, girl? 1t is no insult | offer | "Deed an’ I’ll be the finest watcher ye ever h’ard you—I, a gentleman high in social rank and in | til av.” the army, and you the daughter of a penniless Pat scratched his head end considered. subaltern in the Yankee service.” **Now Masther Clinton is off, I dunno phat ‘* ‘You have said enough, sir, and my answer | I'll do. Whoo! Howit scared me whin he wint is Eyer I must beg you to leave me to myself, | over the bill on the black horse! It’s bim_ that as [am not desirous of your company.” can do it, anyhow. An’ thin there’s Gilbert, ‘*T am afraid you do not know me,” he said, ee the divil is he, anyway? An’ the rid slowly. ‘* You may drive me too far, and force | haythen, Owasco; a fine lad. Ill be the de’th me to show you what my power really is. There | av that bla’g’ard av a Darrymid wan ay these are worse fates than to be the wife of even so | days, sure!” : . poor a man as Colonel McKay.” McKay had been in close consultation with ‘Yet I will dare them all, sir, in preference | Darromed, and now came forward again and to such a fate. Leave me at once, and keep up | spoke to Helen, your plots against the unhappy whites of the ‘* I have interested myself in your behalf,” he orth-west. There is blood upon your soul, | said, “in spite of your cruelty tome. But, as sir—the blood of the many unfortunates who | I told you, it will be useless for me to try to get have been slain in this cruel and useless war. | you out of his hands, except in one way.” Unborn thousands will know ye 9 history, ‘*'You need not trouble yourself to tell me only to execrate it bitterly; and McKay will be | what that way is,sir,” shesaid. ‘I think lcan a bugbear to frighten children with in the after- | fathom your shallow plan.” times.” ‘* Still I must state it. If you will say that The colonel grated his teeth hars' ly together, | you are og wife, I can claim you from him, and he made a half motion to raise his band, as | and he will give you up.” ‘* Your wife; yours!’ him he did not, for Handy Pat was standing not The expression of utter detestation in her tone far away, and the expression of his face was | was so bitter that all the blood in McKay’s anything but pleasant. If McKay had looked | veins seemed to turn at once to gall, and he at him he might have had good cause to doubt | seized her fiercely by the wrist. ‘‘Mad girl, do vou know what it is to drive man, But Pat controlled himself, and ap- | me to despair? I warn you, as you value all proached him with a benignant smile. | you hold dear, to think before you dar® insult “ That’s right, masther. Phat business have | meagain. I have told you that I love you as a she to talk that way to a colonel in the service | man addressing a woman, as humbly as I can. av the king? Sthrike her wid yer fist av she | You have only replied by insults, and I will not locks at ye that way ag’in.” endure it. Now, then, listen tome. You have This good advice had the effect the Irishman | looked your last upon your home, you have intended, for it drew the wrath of McKay to | seen your father for the last time, unless you himself, and turning, he bestowed a buffet upon | consent to go back as my wife.” if he would have struck her. It was well for whether he had a very safe servantin the Irish- the unhappy Irishman, which ‘“‘ brought the ‘*'You are not in earnest?” claret ” from his nose in a plentiful stream. **'You will find it so.” ‘* Sorra resave the hand av ye!” growled Pat. ‘‘Then,” said Helen, turning ber eyes with a ‘* Phat did ye hit me fur?” piteous gesture in the direction of her home, ‘‘To teach you to attend to your own affairs, | ‘‘ dear father, farewell! Now, sir, lam in your you rascal. Interfere with me again and I will | bands, but remember that I come of as good give you up to Darromed, and let him use you | blood as you, and our race prefer death to dis- as he intended.” honor.” ‘No, thank ye. I don’t care about it at all, ‘** What would you do?” av ye pl’ase, fur the Ingin don’t look swate at ** Kill you if _ dared to lay a hand upon me, seeing that I bate his hid at theisland fight. | me. Look”—she produced a small but keen Don’t hit me ag’in, beca’se I don’t like it.” dagger. ‘‘My lover gave me this, the man I Pat retreated, and McKay followed, full of | am to marry, and in whose love I glory. Do wrath. He had made but little in his attempt | you know who he is? The man whom to-day upon Helen, and was satisfied that she despised | your red miscreants thought to hound to his him as much as ever. Two years before he had | death, but whom God in His at merey and bowed his hee to make an offer of marriage to providence preserved so wonderfully. He es- her, when he was forced by a wound he had re- | caped, and while he treads the eart you are ceived by accident to make an asylum of her | not safe.” father’s house, and had been refused so wey ly that he had not the courage to renew his offer. Whether he had set the Indians to at- tempt her capture and follow her so persistent- ly, she was still in doubt; but she knew that he was aman of great determination, and rarely te up anything upon which he had set his eart. The Irishman was in a quandary. Satisfied that his former master needed him, for the pres- ent he felt himself safe, but he had no guaran- tee that he would not deliver him over to the tender mercies of the British officers when they ‘“‘ Ugh!” said Darromed, who was looking on. reached the post. Under these circumstances, | ‘‘ The white girl has a brave heart, and I love it was not surprising that he did not care about | to see ber raise her arm to defend herself.” staying under his new master any a than ‘I did not ask your opinion, sir,” replied Me- was absolutely essential to his own safety and | Kay, in an angry tone. ‘ When I do, it will well-being. be time for you to interfere.” ‘‘ Now see, masther,” he said, ‘‘ will ye tell The chief answered only by a haughty stare, me where we are goin’?” while Handy Pat lifted one leg from the ground ‘Silence your stupid tongue!” commanded | and indulged in a pantomime which might have brought condign punishment upon bim had his master seen him. ‘This haughty temper of yours shall be brought very low,” said the colonel, again ad- dressing Helen. ‘‘In the mean time, get into yonder canoe and I will follow.” ‘* Where am I to be taken?’ she demanded. “You will know when you reach it. I am not in the humor to answer the questions of one who does nothing exceptinsult me. But beware; you shall surely be my wife, or a worse thing ——ae to you.” ith a look of lofty scorn Helen took her lace in the canoe, and one after another four ndians followed with paddles, while McKay and Pat made up the number; and under the strokes of the paddles they shot rapidly down the stream. McKay took out a little Union ‘‘ Give up that dagger,” hissed McKay. ‘*Not I! Come and take it, if you dare.” He advanced, and she struck at him with such deadly earnestness that it was only by an agile spring backward that he saved himself from a severe wound. As it was, the point touched his breast, inflicting a slight cut. ‘‘ Vixen!” he screamed, livid with passion ; ‘I believe you would take my life if you could,” “If a rattlesnake coiled itself to strike its fangs into your flesh, you would slay it, would you not?” subordination will be the signal for me to throw you into the hands of the Indians or of the troop from which you deserted.” “Sure ye wouldn’t do that same, masther dear!” howled Pat. “I pot tired av staying in wan place so long, an’ 1 thought l’d thry this side av the line a bit. A poor gossoon like me ain’t answerable for what he does.” ‘*I want you to understand my orders, then. You are to watch that young lady night and day, and see that she does not escape. If you should be unfortunate enough to permit her to do that, you may as well drown yourself, for I shell have no merey upon you,” ** Deed an’ I don’t think you would, masther dear,” groaned Pat, ‘‘ I’ll watcb her: sorra time ccepeeememeemeee ee ee ‘ will I take me eye off her till she’s safe wherever | Jack and elevated it upon a ramrod in the stern ye want to take her.” of the canoe, so that the savages, by whom the EOMMIE OOOKS SS