Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 202 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

tr tll te * Rt i sees —— —— — —_ / Cactus J ack, the Giant Guide. _ pram } All these remarks were heard by the guides who at once grew interested. Under ordinary circumstances they might have thought nothing of the matter, but the fact that James Town- send was holding secret interviews with a wo- man unknown about Black Bend now led them to remember the femaie outlaw they had seen at the cave, and it was very easy to form a connection between the two. Cactus Jack was so BTOD Ely impressed by the idea that they had struck a clew that he at once commi:ted an indiscretion. Impulsively turning upon the men, he invited them to drink at his expense—an invitation they did vot refuse—and then he rashly asked more about the affair of which they had spoken. The result was to be expected. The men were willing to drink, early and often, with the handsome giant, but when it eame to divulging their secrets for his benefit, it was quite another matter, Briefly, the guide was baffled. They made light of the matter at first, and then showed Some temper, so that Cactus Jack was soon brought to see that he could not be a partner in their secret. Really, however, there was little lost, for they had overheard all the men knew, and they decided when once more outside that it was about as well. ‘* But,” said the giant, emphatically, ‘‘ it goes as another link in the chain. I think I see clearly. The girl they saw was the same one we metat the cave, and, such being the case, James Townsend is, of course, an ally, if not an active member, of the gang. Probably he was telling ber all he knew about last night’s adventure.” ‘How much did he know?’ Bozeman sig- nificantly asked. ‘** What do you mean?’ **Do you s’pose he knows who shot their sojer?” ‘* Possibly.” ‘*You remember our theory that their sojer knowed ther man who come out o’ ther bushes ter meet him. Now, James admitted that he knowed ther sojer, which makes me think he may have be’n ther man who did ther shootin’.” Cactus Jack did not answer at once. He was a man who, in spite of the wild life he had led, bad a profound veneration for family ties, and he felt most reluctant to bring serrow to the in- mates of Townsend’s house. The aged father and the fair sister wou!d mourn for their way- ward relative; and the guide asked himself if it would not be well to abandon the work then and there. He wavered for but a moment. In bis opin- ion, justice and the right should at all times be regarded, and the fact that James was rich, re- spected, and an outward gentleman, must not be allowed to shield him. The investigation must go on. That evening the guides did not remain long outside. After what had occurred, it was not likely the Black Masks would make any move so soon, and, besides, the partners had decided that silent and cunning work would be more likely to succeed than hap-hazard searching. They went back to their room and sat down to smoke. Like most frequenters of wild re- gions, they found this their chief enjoyment, and in the clouds of smoke they sent upward they tried 'to find some clew to lead them from their dilemma. In the midst of their enjoyment, Jack chanced to glance at the bed at the further side of the room, and there he saw something which at first looked like a handkerchief. Wondering at the fact, he arose and: went forward, and then he saw that it was a folded white paper. “‘T reckon the chambermaid has took to writ- ing me letters,” he grimly said, as he opened it and saw writing upon it. His smile faded, however, as he read, and then he whistled softly and tossed the document to Bozeman, ** Read,” he briefly said. ‘‘T pass,” said the mountaineer; ‘I can’t tell one letter from another. What does ther talk- in’- a a say ?” ‘Well, it is plainly addressed to you and me, and then follows this epistie: ‘«* You are probably aware that in trying to un- mask the robbers of Black Bend you ie Sarton the revenge of desperate men; but, as you do not know who they are, or how carefully concealed are their tracks, I take this way to tell you that unless you look well to your safe y: ro trail will lead you to your death. I do not ic you turn back, for I, too would see them destroyed with pleasure; but I bid rou to beware of secret as well as open enemies, of tiows in the dark, and counterplots of various kinds. Would you know who thus warns you? Re- now that I am not ungratefr] for you then did. Be warned in time, and save —— self.’ Cactus Jack read this remarkable communi- cation fluently to the end, and then, lowerin his hands, looked quietly at Bozeman. Both men were calmer than might have been ex- ted, but they were su rised and perplexed, “Wal, that is inv’restin’,” Bozeman dryly observed. Zit “What do you make of !tf Ee ee ae “‘Durned ef I kin tell. It may be on ther squar’ an’ it may not be. Ef it is a false sign, then it was writ ter scare us away.” ‘* But, Boze, how should any other human being know that we rescued a girl in the bar- ranca, except the girl herself?” ‘* Correct.” ** Do you know my idea?” te No. ? ‘‘Tt may be absurd, but I can’t get over the idea that the female outlaw may be the gir] of the barranca affair. I believe this note was written by the girl we rescued, but how could she know of our present occupation, or of the make-up of the Black Masks, unless she was one the band?” ** That are is logic,” and Bozeman nodded his head emphatically. ‘‘* Boiled down, it amcunts to just this: She wants to save our skins, so she takes this way to warn us against ‘secret enemies,’ as she terms it. That means James Townsend, you see. She is faithful to him and would call no names, but she wants us to hang on to this world for a while longer.” ‘* Wal, do you intend ter cl’ar out?” ‘**Do I?’ said the giant, forcibly. ‘‘ Not ef I have mysay! When I run from red-man or white, | won’t claim to be the simoom of the Mimbres any more. No; I won’t run!” CHAPTER XIX. IN THE TWILIGHT. CAPTAIN BRIGHAM was a good deal worried by the ill success which had thus far attended their efforts to solve the mystery of his do- minion. He was a man who meant to do his duty, who had a large share of commendable ambition, and he hoped in time to be something more than a captain of an insignificant fort in a Western wild—remote, friendless, slow. Somebody has said that nothing succeeds like success, and the soldier knew that he must either root out the outlaws or run the risk of being rooted out of his present office. Conse- quently, he was resolved to find and defeat, them. As Woodman, the missing soldier, continued absent, all bad accepted it as a settled fact that he had been the victim of the previous night’s tragedy, and Brigham was a good deal troubled at the situation. Such being the case, and finding an evening before him which bade fair to hang heavily on his bands, he grew delighted when -he thought of a way to break the monotony of affairs. The way was one to which many men have been addicted. Brigham proposed to call on the woman he loved. Accordingly, as the day drew near its end, he made a careful toilet-and wended his way toward Townsend’s house. Perhaps his lucky star was burning brightly—at any rate, much to his delight, he found on his arrival that all the male members of the family had taken gig ag off on other business and left Marian alone. If appearances went for anything, she was glad to see him, and they were soon seated and engaged in conversation. Beginning on minor matters, they finally spoke of the late tragedy, and then, as that. was not a pleasant topic, branched off in other directions, talking as young people do. Brigham was happy, as every young man, soldier or otherwise, would he.ve been under the circumstances; but, realizing that the extent of bis happiness depended on the length of time he had Miss Marian to himself, he finally suggested a stroll outside the house, not mentioning the — that his object was to avoid her male rela- ives. _ They went, and in the delicious southern twi- light wandered about in agreeable conversation. For a time Brigham was wholly absorbed in what his fair companion was saying, but, anon, his thoughts began to wander. He loved Miss Townsend, as he had freely confessed to him- self, and the proposed return of the party East, had showed him that he must soon learn her own sentiments on the subject or leave them forever unknown. Just then he did not consider the difference in their worldly stations. She was a rich man’s daughter; he, a poor soldier; but the determi- nation to speak came so suddenly that he did not then remember this fact. He must speak at all hazards. It was an important moment in the young officer’s life, but details need not be given here. Except to the interested parties, love-making is dry business at the best, and though Brigham presented his case with at least an pegs amount of eloquence, a summary will satisfy the reader better than a detailed account. All the soldier’s doubts were soon swept away, Marian listened to his avowal with a promising silence, and when her turn came to speak her words were such as made him happy. Secretly she had admired and loved him from the first, and now she said so without besitation. And so, in the twilight, their future was set- tled so far as they had power over it. At that moment neither of them remembered the-ob- Stacles which might soon arise in their ese It went East, or Brigham was trans- ferred to another post, it would be a severe blow at the best, but they were living then for the present. . Two hours longer they wandered about, never going far from the house, but the soldier finally remembered that others besides themselves were to be considered, and they said zood-night at the door. He walked back to his quarters in a happy mood, far happier than he bad known for some time. ‘*They never come but once, those nights,” a talented author has said, and it was no wonder Brigham seemed to walk on air. ~ Meanwhile Marian was lingering where her two brothers were talking of the recent mys- tery, but she scarcely heard what they were saying. Men might come and go, and blood be spilled on the very door-stone of the ranch, but that did not change the fact that she and Brig- ham had come to an understanding. Feeling too happy to remain ner to what had become dry discussion, she started for her own room, breaking into a faint singing when once free from other glances, zs She was about entering her room when she | was accosted by Molly, the colored servant who had followed their fortunes from the East and who liked New Mexico because it was warm like the land of her birth. She was fat and forty, though scarcely fair, but as she stopped the girl her eyes seemed even too large for ber broad face. } ‘* Miss Marian,” she said, in a tregic wnisper,. ‘*T’s have don’ got suffin’ to show ~~ 3.” ‘‘Another of father’s scorpions at liberty?* questioned Miss Townsend, carelessly. ‘* Not dat, but—but—come dis way, chile.” Somewhat interested, Marian followed and was led to a small den used as astore-room, It was not needed for the family, and there were to be seen numerous cases of the elder Town- send’s ‘‘specimens,”—rocks, plants, and things once erawling but now speared like so many salmon fish; and at one side Molly paused, ‘Do you see dat board, honey?’ she asked, pointing to the floor. | ‘*Do you mean the short one?” ‘“Yes, de one dat was fitted in where de odders did not reach. Wal, Miss Marian, I was up here a bit ago, an’ when I step on dat board by chance it flew up at dis end, so, an’ den—” Molly ceased speaking and illustrated. She placed her heavy foot on the short board and it © once more tipped from place, revealing the usual nook underneath where a flooring sepa- rates an upper and lower room. P “See what is dar,” said the negress, in a whisper. Marian bent down and saw some sort of a gar- ment. Surprised, she raised it from the nook - advanced a step toward the light held by olly. Then she paused suddenly and, gradually, a white, scared look crept into her face. The garment she held was a coat of blue color and in places glittered the brass buttons she had always seen when passing the fort. The cloth— the ‘army blue” no one could mistake—and the buttons made one thing certain; she held a coat which had been made for the United States army. ‘ It was not that which made her turn so pale, however. Upon the breast of the coat, plainly visible even by the dim light, were dark stains which terrified her: and as though to add to the feeling, as she stood silent, Molly put out her hand and showeda small, round hole in the coat at the left breast. Even these women knew it to be the track of a bullet. Across Marian’s mind flashed a reccllection of the disappearance and supposed murder of Woodman, the soldier, and the thought came that this army-blue coat had been his. If such was the fact, how came it in their house? There were signs enough to tell of a violent death—the hole in tle breast, the dark stains, which were unquestionably of blood; but how had the coat come to the place where they found it? . ' She had turned to ask Molly’s opinion, when she remembered the emotion the negress had shown, and upon her mind flashed a conviction which almost stunned her. ; There was sore one in the ranch who knew how the soldier had died, who bad an interest in his death, and who had borne the coat to the house when the deed wasdone. So much seemed plain, but who was that person? That it had been a woman was impossible, for she and Molly made up the list in the house. The male inmates were Townsend, James and Lucas. ; No wonder Marian’s face pes and her eyes grew like those of a startled deer. If a ances went for anything, one of her brothers or her father had borne the coat to the store- room and concealed it in the niche; and who- ever had done it must have had a hand in the killing of the soldier. . ' Just then the girl dared not reason, much less remain with “~~ ly; and she dropped the coat as though it had been poison. , ‘*Put it back,” she faintly said. ‘Hide it well, Molly, and for your life say not a word of - what you bave seen,” sess gees EomIiebdooks.co . a ° 'g ‘ r 7 a _— aad - ail ==, - a . ‘ 7 , - wr ois 7-5 — - * _< *~ 7 7" al — a - . ~ = Z :