Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 194 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

ted el ee: fe -— — - il thinking, “‘it seems to me it should have béen near the bodies, else, what use in burying it? L am not well up in the mound business, but it strikes <2e things are not as they shou!ld be. Wor be to the Triad if we are destined to be thwarted!” CHAPTER XXXVL THE SPECTER AGAIN APPEARS. THE grave-robbers had gone four feet below where the skeletons had been found, and, as Wil- der looked up and saw the level three feet above his head, he suddenly paused and leaned back against the side of the excavation. ‘*My beloved corners,” he mournfully said, ‘* we are working a salted claim.” Diaz cleared his throat with a vicious wrench, ** Carajo ! answered, “ Don’t you think dar is any gold hyer?” the negro pathetically asked. i ‘** Not a dollar, nor even a California bit. We have haa our labor for nothing, for these skele- tons were planted without any precious metal to take them through to the other world. I reckon their relatives gobbled every shekel they had.” ‘That is the English of it,” Diaz tersely said. The Triad stared at each other in chagrin. It was a melancholy pause, but, at that moment, a mass of dirt rattled down into the hole and they looked upward suddenly. What they saw made the Major drop on his knees in terror, and even Diaz grew less ruddy about the face. At the top of the excavation was a white- robed figure, slight and spiritual of form, and it was not strange they believed a ghost had come to upbraid them. Only Wilder beheld in calmness. He recog- nized the same creature in white he had before seen about the. mownd, and a stern resolve to solve the mystery assailed him. Before the specter had time to make further move he sprung at the side of the excavation, and as a way oft ascent bad been carefully left, he was up in a brief time. At bis first movement the unknown had turned and fled, but as he reached the level he saw it vainly trying to pass the fence, baving gone from instead of toward the hole by which they bad come under. One glance was enough to show him that he was in tve presence of a creature who was no more ghostly than a woman, and in a moment his grasp was upon her arm. She sunk at bis feet with a ** Mercy!” she gasped, ‘** gin’s sake!” Even then there was something familiar in her voice, and Wilder bent to peer into ber face. As he did so he grew freshly amazed, for he re- cognized the girl of the outlaws’ cave, ‘* Marab !” he ejaculated, in surprise, Her head was suddenly lifted and she looked at him in bewilderment. ‘*Who are you who knows my name?’ she itiful ery. cy, for the Vir- ed. * Don’t you recognize me, Marah?” ‘* No,” she answered. . Theu Wilder suddenly remembered that he was wearing the outfit which made him ** Cheer- ful Abe,” and a faint smile crossed bis face. **f am Horace Wilder in disguise,” he said, *“* Praise the Virgin; but—but—” **Marah,” he suddenly interrupted, “why are you here?” She turned slowly toward the excavation. “IT came to visit the grave of ‘my kinsmen,” she said, in a subdued voice. **What?” “It is here that my father and brothers, of whom I told you at the cave, were buried.” The whole truth rushed over Wilder and he stood dumfounded. They had not been molesting a mound of an unknown people, but, the graves of outlaws whose names were yet well remem- bered in California. . It was like a dash of ig¢e-water on bis sanguine scheme, and, more than that, he was over- whelme. with consternation that Marah should have found him thus, ; “You did not tell me they were buried here,” he muttered, with shame. ‘No, for I did not care to have it known. Few people, even among the survivors of my father’s band, are aware of the truth, When he and my brothers fell into the bands of the Vigilantes and met their horrible death, they were buried, here together. That was when was a child, as I told you before, and I remained with San Antonio for protection. Every one seemed to ot the grave except me, but they were all, had,and'1 came often until the land passed into the hands of Judge Austin. Since. then I have rarely ventured near the spot.” ‘* Why did you come in white?” he asked. She removed the ghostly robe before an- | | and all went outside the grounds. —— ee eee Don Sombrero, ‘the California Road Gent. bim. It was a penitent, shame-faced story, but | he managed to Continue to the end. ‘After the three outlaws met their fate and | were buried as bas been told, people in general | soon forgot about them; the members of the ' old Vigilante band died or went to other places; | and when Edwards Austin found the mound on | beside him a _ his heart. his land and leaped to the conclusion that it was the work of an ancient people, there was no one to dispute his theory. Wilder had fallen into the same error, but his efforts bad enabled him to open, not what | he had expected, but an ordinary grave. All this he explained to Marah, and, though she at times made remarks which added to his abject feeling, she freely forgave him when all was told. . Tbe hopes of the Triad had ended in discom- I believe you are: right,” he | fiture, but Wilder felt that they had yet one work todo; the grave must be restored to its former condition before they departed. Diaz and the Major had crept cautiously up the side of the excavation and were amazed to find the specter a thing of human form and substance, and when he explainéd matters to result, Fortunately, Marah had not seen the skeletons so Wilder led her outside the place and found a seat where sho could remain until their work was done, Then the restoration was begun. Before, it had been a pleasure to dig, but now all was bard labor, and though they worked manfally it was without entbusiasm. The outiaws’ remains were placed in their old position, and, at the end of two hours, the mound had assumed its former appearance, ex- cept that the loosened earth could not be so compactly arranged as before and its top was at least a foot bigher. When the work was wholly finished, even to filing in the hole by which they had crawled under the fence, the three men joined Marah Near the eat Wilder paused and tarned to Diaz and the auajor, ** You will return to the village at once?” * Yes, senor,” the Mexican answered, ‘Then [ shall not see you until to-morrow. My faithful friends, I regret that we should have been so disappointed, but itis the way of the world. The fat woman of the N. E. & C. has often said in my presence that this world is but a one-horse show, to man’s confusion given. We have found it so, but we will face the storm. To-night, the work of the Triad ends, but we are not much poorer than when we began.” “Golly! I couldn’t very well be dat,” the gro said. *Caramba! nor I,” Diaz added. “ As you say, senor, we have met with ill-luck, but we may thank our patron saints that our skins are whole and trust to the future for better success.” “You have been faithful to the glorious cause,” Wilder continued, **and my blessing is yours, my faithful corners. Now, I have busi- cored to transact, and we may as well say good- night. hey made fitting response and went care- lessly away, but Wilder looked after them more soberly. To them, the parting seemed but that of:a few hours, but be believed they were taking a last farewell. Rude and ignorant as they were, and unscrupulous to a certain degree, they had been true friends to him, and ne he wished them well. He watebed until they disappeared in the darknéss and then turned toward Marah. She was looking af vacancy with a fixed expression on her face, but he at once went forward and ‘took her hand. | thickly settled for their old work.” | hastens my pu | have led, and, in some place where I | unknown, I will begin life anew.” ‘* Marah we . E eT waned that Dorval, who guards the | alone.” grounds, was superstitious, and it was my idea | to make him think me a specter if I Was seen.” and in such a Way that she would not blame ** You are deep in thought,” be softly said. “Yes,” she almost curtly said. ‘‘ I was think- ing of the future.” Can you read it wel?’ ‘‘I can read nothing. To-night I am about | to leave Mount Tabor and begin anew existence. I came here for a farewell visit, and now that my work is done, I have only to go.” ‘* What of the band?” ‘* jt is broken up and the men scattered, tem- | rarily, if not for good. There is no one to | ead them now, and this region is becoming too | ‘Is San Antonio dead?” ** No, but his end is near) The sheriff’s bullet made a fatal wound, and it is only a qnestion of a few days when he shall die. from the cave after the fight by bis men, and, | in some refuge of whieh I life is slipping away.” He was carried | ' know nothing, his | I suppose you lose a good friend in him.” | ‘He was kind to me, but his death scarcely | I am tired of the life I | am | , it is not right that you should go : | replied, Her pastin the affair was now clear, but it re- for him to explain what he had done, | arm ‘‘T am strong and brave of heart,” she steadily | | “Even a brave woman needs a protecting ‘“T shall try to be my own protector,” Sa a ee } them they agreed to help him to the end, | though plainly overwhelmed with sorrow at the 22 ee — For one moment Horace Wilder saw the plans his past float before him; that past in which he had aspiréd to win Viola Austin for his wife because of the wealth she would bring to bis spendthrift hand; but the vision floated away again. Tbat was only a dream, while this girl pealed to bis noblest impulses and She moved him as no other woman ever had, and he did not besitate. ‘** Marah,” he earnestly said, “if you will let me be your protector and shield you will make me ahappy man. Become my wife, and I will do all in my power to guard you from the storms of life. Do not look upon this as am empty offer, for I love you as [f never before loved woman, and it is for you to say whether I shall be happy or miserable,”: Her face was not easily read in the darkness, but her voice was unsteady as she answered: ‘You forget that I am an outlaw’sdaugbter.” “T forget nothing. I, toe, have my fai.ings, but I have no heavy sin on my soul. I value you for yourself, and in asking you to be m wife, 1 am sure I shall never repent my choice, ‘Our acquaintance bas been brief—” ** It has been long enough for me. I only ask that you will give me as much affection and trust as I tity you,” ; **T do give you both, fully.” Her voice quivered now like that of one whe has torn down a barrier of self-control, and in that voice and in the upturned face he read enough of her woman’s heart to satisfy him. He held ovt bis arms end she crept into their embrace with a sigh of infinite relief. It was a courtship strange as California itself, but that hour their new existence began. CHAPTER XXXVIL THE SHADOW OF DEATH. TWILIGHT of that same evening fell upon in- teresting scenes in other places than in the im- mediate vicinity of Mount Tabor, The sbad- ows, following fast on the heels of thé depart- ing sun, descended on a hut which stood on the mountain side some distance south of the vil- Tonite the but a man lay battling with shad- ows deeper than those of an earthly night—the shadow of approaching death. He lay stretched upon a couch made of pine bongbs and the skins cf wild animals, a rude bed even for a well man, but no murmur es- caped bis lips. One glance shcwed that be bad once been aman of great pliysical power, for bis body and arms were large and muscular, but the destroyer of man bad fastened a re- lentless grasp upon him, end his face plainly told that the struggle of life was about over, Great as the change bad been; it was still easy to recognize in bim the once famous out- law, San Antonio. hen be had been shot down hy Sheriff Roberts his men had managed to carry him away and to the but, and there, witb only one man left to watch over bim, be was slowing dy- ing from the wound he had received. His companion, lying flat on the greund, was looking moodily out into the shadows when tho chief broke the silence. He tpoke in a deep, hoarse voice, buf with perfect calmness: ** Rolfe, come here,” he said. The man turned his head quickly. ** W bat is it, captain?” he anxiously asked, “T want the truth from you tow. You bave told me to battle bravely agaiust my burts, and — I have obeyed, but, instead of improving, I have steadily failed, I feel sure that T am making a vain fight, and as you have skill and experience in such matters, 1 want ae a tell me frankly what wee condition is. If I was a weak wcman there might be sense in deceiving me, but San Antonio is not to be treated as a child. Rolfe, am I a doomed man?” ' Even with so — address to set him othe the man besitated, but his leader made an im- patient movement. — ** Speak!” be imperiously said, “Since you command it, 1 will, Captain, I can see no hope of ever again following you to victory. Your wound is eating your life away, and in a few days the énd must come.” ' It was Plain talk, but the iron face of the out- law did not blench. Instead, it was marked by a look which almost seemed like gratification. ‘*Enovgh!” he said, in the same hoarse way. ‘fT am sorry to hear such news, but I thank you for your frankness. I have held my life in the hollow of oe Beem feo long to tremble at the nearness of ars eck, but not longer.” “ Possibly aw ; not_longer. ff “What would be the result if IT was moved ‘“You would not live a single day,” the man nm. | from here?” hastily said, with a look of alar “Still, I must go. ** Tmpossible !” Son Antonio smiled A ree A ; “Look you, Rolfe, I start for Mount Tabor inside of an hour,” he firmly said, ‘¢ Wor Mount Tabor?” ‘* Yes rs Are you mad, captain?” ‘“‘No, but I searcely wonder that you think meso. Still, you ought to guess my object. th. But how long, Rolfe, can I; Se ers \ * . a a OS SO e SS Gomicboo (C S) (C(O)