Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 194 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

of the stage robbery. against ‘‘T6 don’t matter much,” said Pablo Diaz. ‘<The man shot in the stage won’t die, and Don Sombrero is a road-agent, just the same.” “Yes, sah, an’ he am a clipper, too,” said Major Jones. *““My worthy corners,” said Cheerful Abe, lowéring his voice, ‘‘ it won’t do for us to say much for the highwayman, but I do rather like him. He likes money, and so does the Triad, every corver of it. The only difference is, he gets it and we don’t. His pluck reminds me of the tiger-tamer of the old N. E. & C. He was one of the bravest)men I ever knew. People admired him so much that he used to go among the crowd after his performance just to let them shake hands with bim. He never came back with less than ten pocket-books and asmany watches. He was a whole team with the grappling- irons.” Meanwhile, Don Sombrero was galloping rapidly away from the village, and, as his way took him near Arcadia, he looked earnestly at the house. ‘They have not yet retired, but I suppose there is no hope of seeing her. I wish I could, for I want to den BAY share in the mail- robbery, but she will probably hear of the pla- card in the village and believe it, as women are prone to do. Ah! Octavia, to what fate will your acquaintance with me lead you? It pains me to deceive her so, but I have a great work to do and must not falter. And Laura, too— she is trusting and believing, trusting in the man that seeks the ruin of herself and family. ‘What an evil fate!” His head dropped lower and he rode on in moody silence. atever his past or prospec- tive crimes, he was not without a conscience, _ and all his manhood was rebelling against his sins. . In his abstraction he did not realize that his horse had rela into a walk, nor did he sus- pect the proximity of any one else until the steed suddenly tossed his head. _. Don Sombrero looked up suddenly. By the side of the road, evidently waiting for him to pees stood a woman, but no sooner did he see er than he uttered an exclamation of surprise. He had recognized her, and the discovery could not but be mutual. ** Miss Austin!” he said, quickly. ‘‘ Yes, it is I,” she answered, more quietly than he, and seemingly at a loss what to do, ““T am very glad to see you.” “You owe all to chance. I was out walking with ‘a, but we became separated somehow and I took a different way home from what. I intended.” ‘IT thank the chance which made it so, for I was wishing very much tosee you. You have heard of the robbery of the stage” : “Yes,” answered Octavia, quietly. ‘‘ Have you no reproof for me?” “6 Tdo not wish to condemn you unkeard.” ‘‘T wish every. one was as lenient,” he said, in a changed voice. ‘The people at the village have eursed my very name ever since that af- fair, but I have to-night given them the lie di- t.” ‘What do you mean?” + Simply that I am not the man who robbed the stage. “Then they were mistaken,” said Octavia, her face growing lighter. ‘They were, but if was a natural error on their part. The deed was done by some one made up to look exactly like me, andin order to throw the blame on me he even announced that he was Don Sombrero,” Miss Austin came nearer to the masked rider. ‘‘ Pardon me, sir,” she said, eagerly, ‘‘ but is this the truth?’ ‘It is, upon my word of honor. Don Som- brero is not an assassin, and since we were to- gether in the cave I have made few fora my fellow-man.” ‘“T am very glad. an the conversation we had I did not want to look upon you as a wick- ed man, and I was week troubled when I heard am glad, sir, that you are free from that deed.” “Will you give me your hand, Miss Austin?” _She did so, frankly, and he raised it to his Me May heaven bless you,” he said, with an un- steady voice. ‘‘ Your goodness oy wers me; ah Don Sombrero has some manhood still ft. . “‘T trust that he has enough to forever forsake this life of peril.” , ‘‘ Octavia—Miss Austin—I promised you that when we met again you sbould have my an- _swer, bat I am afraid it will hardly be satisfac- tory. Lam not yet quite ready to forsake the road, but the great work of my life is slowly moving to an end, and when the climax comes, Don Sombrero will be seen no more.” “The delay of a day may be fatal to you.” ‘‘ You speak truly, but I am bound by vows I dare not. break to accomplish my end, and I cannot yet turn back. I know that is a very unsatisfactory answer, but I am not worthy of a thought from you, anyway, Miss Austin.” ‘7 believe you are worthier than you know, and J wish you would reveal your identity to me and let me help youif Iean.” ‘Dom Sombrero, the California,.Road-Gent. ce tt CT LLL LLL LL LLL CO LS —_—_—— or ee | ' the day when they discover of what common they went eis ee ———— ‘You are helping me more than you know already, and you can do no more at present. As for my identity, when I cast off this mask, you, and you alone, shall know afterward that | memory of that deed comes back to me to- I was Don Sombrero.” | night? Ithought the skeleton forever buried, For some time longer they remained in con- | but it comes now like a ghost at the banquet.” versation, and both forgot the passage of time;| He abruptly arose, gave a few directions te but the sound of horses’ hdofstrokes down the | the servants and went to his Lrivate room. road aroused the road-agent. In one corner stood an old trunk, and upon He said adieu in a voice which was always | this he fastened his gaze. musical when addressing Octavia, pressed her “They say that a murderer can not keep hand and rode away. | away from the scene of his crime, and, perhaps, “Oh, my soul!” be said, almost with a groan, | that is what draws me here now, though years asherodeaway. ‘“ What avillain lam. Iam |} have passed sincel had such a feeling as this. leading this woman on to her ruin, and in my | Something impels me to unlock that box, and I heart I love her madly. The sight of her face | will satisfy the horrible curiosity.” almost swerves me from my purpose— But Drawing a bunch of keys from his pocket, he no, no; I must not, will not forget my vow of |-opened the trunk. If was filled with a miscel- vengeance, The Austin family must go dewn | laneous collection of articles, but he brushed to ruin together, the innocent with the guilty!” | them aside and, from the bottom of all, pro- With a fierce jerk at the rein, unneeded upon | duced a small wooden box. his gallant horse, he turned into the field and | Tis he placed on a table, and then, having | _. His paper had fallen from his hand, and, for some time, he looked at vacancy in silence. rode on, looking sharply to the right and left. \onked the door and dropped the curtains, he Ere long be reached a grove of trees and | selected a small key and thrust it into the box. bushes, and dismounting, led the horse inside | There was a click and he turned the cover and tied him to a branch. Then he removed his serape, sombrero and | mask and rolled them into a bundle, which he concealed under the bushes, ‘* Remain here for awhile, old boy,” he said, | patting the neck of his horse. “I have work to do in which you cannot help me, but I will | soon return,” He left the grove and walked rapidly away toward the south, strong in the faith that no eye had been watching him. | ck, No jack-in-the-box or grinning skull met his gaze—only a pistol of obsolete pattern, lying on a folded woolen cloth. He raised the weapon and looked at it closely. *“ Scarcely a speck of rust upon it, although it has laid so many years. Why the fiends don’t decay seize upon it and eat away barrel and breech? It will bea skeleton in the closet as long as it remains, but, somehow, I can not throw it away. I was a fool that I did not itch it overboard the night of that tragedy, | but a preserved it as though it was a ewel, | . Raising the hammer, he snapped it viciously, Doty for ten years, it had been empty and harm- ess. *‘ Accursed thing, and thrice accursed the hour when I purchased it. That deed was the only one in my life of which I am ashamed, but, with the blood of the Austins in my Veins, In this he was mistaken. Laura Austin, separated by chance from Oc- tavia, had hurriedly taken to cover at the ap- proach of a horseman, and in the big hat and yerape she could not fail to recognize Don Som- rero, Searcely daring to breathe, she had kept her cover while he was in the trees, buf when he went away her gaze was upon him, as she saw him without his disguise, her face grew deathly pale. I sup TI would do the same ie gl “Merciful heaven!” she cried,‘‘it is Theodore | Beside the box a cigar case had Jaid as com- Rivers |” , pany. This the judge raised and read the in- scription on the cover with a slight tremor CHAPTER XXII. about his bearded lips. “J. W.C. to E. A.” A STARTLING DISUOVERY. That was all—a series of abbreviations which AnD then, as the road-agent went away, | told little fo a stranger, but one frill of recollec- Laura stood with hands and a look in | tion to Edward Austin. ‘‘Why doI keep these things?’ he muttered, impatiently. ‘‘There can,be nq danger, but J am a foo] to have them around, By my life, I wil] no longer endure it, Late as it is, I will go out and bury them beneath the sod!” Acting on the hasty resolution, which was something very unlike him, he closed and re- pea po ae s, and het after opr: the istol and cigar-case i 8 pocke u da imself for the outer air. " eamippe As he passed through the garden, he saw Duke Dorval sauntering about at a distance, but, without speaking to him, he passed through the gate, locking it behind him, and went on ip the open field. ‘** This is a Quixotic expedition,” he muttered, ‘and I ought to have known better. I am act- ing like a boy, but, now I have started, I will forever dis of these articles.” ; ; After a little reflection he walked toward a grove of trees which grew near the road, pausing near the center of the place. ‘‘Dark as Egypt!” he muttered, “‘but a fit time and place for my work.” _Drawing a knife from his pocket, he knelt at. the foot of a tree and began ing a hole in the dirt with the blade. He kept on until he had gone down for two feet, and then deposited the pistol and cigar-case at the bottom, covered them up with earth and restored the top as nearly as possible to its former appearance, ‘Tt is done, and they will no longer haunt me as they have done for ten peers. Dampneéss and feeey will soon remove the last sign,” With these words he turned and strode away from the grave, not once looking bebind him. He would not have felt so satisfied had he known that while he worked he had been watched, and that, too, by a man in a big hat and cloak, who had all the while been stand- her eyes which was like that one may see in those of a frightened deer, — At the least, it was a great shock, for she had never thought of connecting rich, handsome and talented Rivers with the dread outlaw, and it seemed a terrible thing that it should be 80, But, to Laura, the discovery had a deeper im- t. Pe He Don Sombrero?!’ she uttered, as the man disappeared. ‘‘Oh, in merecy’s name, what does it mean? Did I see aright? No, it cannot be that it was he.” | She tried to believe there was a mistake, but itis hard to doubt the evidence of one’s own eyes, and she had seen him too plainly to doubt. ace and form, hair and mustache—all were as she had seen them in him. Minutes passed before she stirred, but she was staring into the darkness with a look of agony on her fair face. “‘ An outlaw and—I love him!” she moaned. “‘Oh, Theodore, my darling, my lost lord, what does it mean? An hour ago I was proud ta ac- knowledge to myself how much | cared for you, that you were my master, but now—now—’ With a little ery she covered her face with her hands, but, after a time gre) calmer. ‘*T must his terrible secret. No one suspects it except me, and I will never be the means of betraying him. Not even Viola and Octavia shall have my confidence, and I pray that he may meet with no harm.” Arising, at length, she turned and walked to- ward the house. Near the door she chanced upon Octavia, but, beyond a few light remarks, nothing was said. Both had a secret to con- ceal, but it was of a very different nature. “« He is noble and good, in spite of his faults,” Octavia was thinking, “‘and | will reclaim him et. Heis too much a man to go toruin. I| ing beside a-black horse, keeping him quiet tow it, even though I never saw his face!” to avoid alarm, . And Laura was thinking: But now, this man, whom we recognize as ‘‘How is my idol shattered! I would as | Don Sombrero, advanced to the side of the tree with a look of wonder on his face. “What in the world has the old villain been burying here? It may be nothing of interest to me, but Iam going to discover,” So saying, the road-agent knelt beside the tree and begau digging vigorously. In a few minutes he had unearthed the pistol and eigar- case, and he held them up in wonder. ‘Now, then, here is a mystery. Why should he bury these simple articles? I'll take a closer look at ’em.” He struck a match and looked at the pistol, but the transient glimmer showed him nothing of interest. Then, by the light of a second, be surveyed the cigar-case, a hoarse cry fell from his lips. “<J. W.C. to E. A.’ Good heavens; they soon havé thought my father a criminal, but I will never betray hin. Oh, Theodore, Theo- dore!” How strange is fate, ! two women were drifting to ruin! and how strangely these Sad will be ony their idol is made. hey paused for a moment to talk gayly to Judge Austin and then went to their rooms. “They are very fair to look upon,” said he, as and his stern face was softer than usual, is the way of the Austin ladies —all are lovely and talented, and it is no idle boast to say none of them ever brought dis- credit on the family name. Well may the race be proud, for what is nobler than fair women and brave men,” ac ees nnn a “Why isit,” he muttered, anon, ‘‘ that the. mn Eboo (E (C ©) =) Wo)