Beadle's Dime Library No. 204 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

-_——-—-- — - - —— ———— **Main PLAZA, SAN ANTONIO. “* To Big Foot Wallace (so-cailed): : “RESPECTED Srr—You will, I trust, pardon me, a stranger, for addressing you, but your noble con- duct just now in punishing that despicable villain, yrompts me to eg See to you my heartfelt thanks. witieased both the cowardly deed and its punish- ment, and I wish to say that, in avenging that child, you also unknowingly avenged an insult thrust upon me by the same dastardly Mexican, but a sbort time previous. ‘*The wretch rode directly up to the wagon wheels, leered.in my face, and said, ‘ Senorita, I know you and your trail. I will embrace you before your wheels cut the mud of the Rio Frio.’ We had just arrived in San Antonio. No one was with me atthe time, andI dared not inform my father as I feared he wovld shoot the Mexican before leaving the town. My father, Colonel Thomas Bow+n, is now on his way to the Rio Frio, perhaps as far as Rio Nueces, for the purpose of purchasi land, and establishing a ranch for cattle-raising. am his step-daughter only, and my mother is dead. [havea brother, but he left home, under what he considered.a cloud, some time ago, and we know not where he is. My father, myself, and five slaves make up our party. Father*was a colonel in the Seminole war, and laughs at the idea of danger, but IconfessI am far less confident of reaching our destination in safety. I have just learned your name, “Ifa young man named George Adler applies to ea for information in regard to us, please direct 1im on the right trail, but none others. I sincerely trust you may see my father at some one of the camps, and warn him, if he is entering upon dan- gerous ground. We intend, I believe, to cross the Medina at the nearest ford, following the Fort Ewell trail. I would like very much to meet you, but as time is up, I am not likely to have that leasure at “pom My father has been absent he last half hour, but is now returning. Once again I thank you, and subscribe myself, with your permission.” * Your friend, very gratefully, ‘* BELLE Bowen.”’ Big Foot Wallace dropped his lariat, and embraced his beard with his left hand; by this means pulling down his lower jaw as if forci- bly opening his mouth in that manner, at the same time ejecting a squirt of tobacco, ‘‘By ther bleed o’ ther victims o’ Goliad, ther Alamo, an’ ther black-bean braves 0’ Salado! Ther cantakerous kiyote sha’n’t hev time ter say ‘Now 1 lay me’! Snatch ther lasso, Post Oak, an’ I'll scrouge ther hellyun along, Come. on fer the Mil’tary Plaza, Bill Lambert, glide speedy fer Sol Childers an’ Mart Campbell. We-’uns wants some o’ ther Vigilantes with us, fer this hyer burg air under the’r jurydick. Now, yer mangy snake, what never shed yer pison skin, whoop up! [I’m arter yer, an’ I’m D’ilin vitri’l,mad, rite outen ther ruts o’ my _ha’r!”’ So saying, and hitching up his belt at each side by a jerk with both. hands, he made vne step forward, grasped the Mexican, who now lay with his eyes distended in. terror, jerked him to his feet, and pushed him along toward the Old Post-office on the southwest corner of the Main Plaza. | Directly in the way, stood the two wagons that had been brought into notice by the letter; and Big Foot, although filled with rage, be- came suddenly aware of the fact, and his gaze was for a moment transferred from the Greaser to the Dearborn, The sight was well worth looking at. A beautiful girl was leaning from the wagon, and for an instant the eyes of the King of the Post Oaks met hers, A slight wave of her handkerchief forced the borderer to lift his sombrero in return, although a hundred eyes were bent uponhim, Then he again fixed his merciless. gaze upon his captive, and pressed him forward in longer strides, The two scouts and their prisoner were followed by a crowd of men, their hands on their weapons, while the Mexican residents, with ashen features, flitted to the right and left. Few, probably, of these last, had any sym- pathy with the condemned man; but all knew that, upon the slightest cause, a rupture might occur, when the loyal Texo-Mexicans, who were many, and a high type of manhood at that, might come to grief from no fault of their own. On, past the post-office, went the crowd, turning around the corner to the west. Not more than a pistol-sbot in space was traversed, when the concourse were in the Military Plaza near a Solitary mesquite tree, upon which many a ghastly corpse had whirled and swayed in the moonlight—or daylight either, for that matter, Here, at the very spot where the dashing horse-thief' and desperado, Bob Augustine, was hung by Mitchell’s Vigilantes, Big Foot Wallace brought his captive toa halt with a jerk, the wretch not having uttered a word during his short, but dread jornada del palo muerto. Big Foot Wallace. 0 ee ee The giant scout madea gesture to Post Oak Bill, who at once cast the end of the lasso over a limb; and, at the same moment, Sol Chil- ders, Martin Campbell, and others of the San Antonio Vigilantes arrived upon the scene, The dense crowd formed a crescent on the plaza, the points of which were close under the projecting water-spouts of the Old Mexican adobe buildings; and the mass of people blocked up the way to the fatal tree, while down the street beyond the place of execution, stood a dozen men, with cocked revolvers to prevent any interference. ‘‘Hyer’s meat ready ter hang up ter dry, Sol,” said Biz Foot to Childers, as the latter approached. The scout spoke in a low, deep tone. ‘‘ He hev bin brash enough; fact air, he war more blusterin’ than a fresh-roped four- year-old steer, but he’s purty well cowed "bout now. He hey senserbly concluded that he’s gut ter ther eand o’ his rope. He’s caved in, wilted, stumped inter bis butes, an’ ain’t peart enough ter jerk up easy.” CHAPTER IL. IN THE LAND OF FLOWERS. Some fifteen years previous to the time of the incident recorded in the foregoing chapter, there resided in Wakulla county, Florida, a widow lady whose name was Agnes Dvuval. She had two children, a boy and girl—the former named Edward, the latter, Belle. The husband of Mr. Duval had died, leaving her quite wealthy; she having a large planta- tion, and an unusually large number of slaves. At the time of which we write, the boy was seven years of age, and his sister four; and both were, the greater part of the time, under the care of an aged negress. Agnes Duval was but thirty years of age, and was remarkably handsome; she had, therefore, a host of admirers, though ‘among | them, doubtless, were many who cared more for the wealth than the widow. However, there was one, a widower with one little boy, the owner of a neighboring planta- tion, who devotedly loved Mrs. Duval, and was a constant visitor. His name was Frank Adler, usually known as Major Adler, he having served in the Seminole war in that official capacity. His son was named George; and, as the lit- tle fellow needed a companion, the major adopted a lad of about the same age, whose name was Dudley Duncan, ‘the father of whom bad been an intimate friend of his in their youn- ger days. Both the boys’ parents were now, however, dead, and the little fellow had been left in abject poverty. It was therefore charity in Frank Adler to adopt the orphan ‘child of his friend, though, as the sequel will show, he had bitter cause to regret having done so. Whether Major Adler would have succeeded in winning the widow, if an unexpected actor had not come upon the scene, we do not know, but bis hopes were suddenly blighted by the ar- rival of two competitors, who drew the atten- tion of every one wherever they went. They lavished their money on all sides, had their own horses and servants, and had every ap- pearance of being wealthy. The two dashing strangers were Colonel Bowen and Captain Jack Ames; ‘the latter being a widower, or professing to be one, and having alsoa son about eight years of age. The habits of both men were by no means good, but that did not prevent them from mingling freely in the very highest circles. Both paid marked attention to Mrs. Duval from the first; and this caused Major Adler, a most excellent and worthy gentleman, to ab- sent himself from public gatherings, not caring to witness what gave him the greatest pain and annoyance, But, to understand the real character of these two strangers, we will take the liberty of playing the spy, by listening to a conversation which passed between them, some two weeks after their arrival in Wakulla. At this time, they are both seated in their room at the hotel. “T say to you most emphatically, Tom Bowen—Captain Ames seems somewhat ex- cited—‘“ that this thing can’t go_on in this way much longer. We have had.a streak of bad luck lately. At that last trip of mine to Tallahassee, I lost a cool five thousand on the races,’’ , “Well,” Colonel Bowen answered, indiffer- EO — ently, “what are you going to do about it? | We can’t start a bank-note manufactory— more’s the pity! Perhaps our luck will turn.” “Suppose it does? We haye nothing to / 3 work with if it should. Between us, we couldn’t muster ten thousand if we sold out everything. I ama man of the world, and I have no personal friends that I carea fig for, except yourself; but I bave heart enough left to wish to leave little Frank something when I flip my last ecard.” “ That’s right, Jack! Ive cften thought of Frankie myself—’pon my word, I have. But cheer up, old fellow. He'll be all right. We’ll make a big stake yet.” ‘There is only oné way that I can think of, Tom.” ‘What have you gotin your mind now, Jack?” ‘Just this. The only way that I can see to retrieve our shattered fortunes, is for one of us to marry Mrs. Duval.” * Not a bad idea, Jack! you propose?” ‘Tom, I'm not quite equal to it. She is pretty, talented and rich—everything, in short, that a man could wish for in a wife—but, fer all that, she doesn’t suit me. I don’t know why, but so itis. Will you marry her, Tom?” “She wouldn’t have me.” “But if she would, are you willing to be the sacrifice?” “T think you might count me in, Jack.” * Well, l’ll bet you a square thousand I can bring things around favorable to that end, at short notice.” “T take the bet; and double, if you say so, Jack!” ; “Done! Now, Tom, I think I understand ~7omen better than you do—in fact, I am posi- tive of it. You are tooslow. Now, isn’t that the case? Own up.” **'You have hit it, my friend.” ‘‘Here’s my plan, then; but, mind you, there must be an entire change in your course toward the widow. ‘You have been rather reserved allalong. You must now court her society, and make her believe by your every word and act that you adore her. I will just whisper in her ear that you are rich as Creesus.. But you must give me your note for tweuty-five thou- sand dollars, and take a solemn oath to marry my Frank to Belle Duval, when she is of suit- able age to marry. “Of course you may not be alive at that time; but to make a sure thing of it, you must influence the widow to make her will to that effect. What think you?” ‘“T can manage it, I daré say; and if I should outlive ber, there will be no trouble about the children.” ‘“Tom, let me whisper just one thing. Sup- pose if did not work to suit us after you are married? In that’ case,’ would you — bend nearer, Old fellow—would you give ber a dose to send her over the Styx, if there was no danger of being detected?’ Colonel Bowen sprung to his feet, and began pacing the room with nervous strides; and, all the time, his bolder companion sat, watching bim closely. It was plain that Ames was the leading spirit, the man of by far the stronger will of the two. But this was the most sericus ques- tion he had ever dared to put to his comrade since they had known each ot ber. “Take a drink of brandy, Tom, and pass me one. It isa matter of want and plenty with you and me now, and we must have our lux- uries. You have shot your man, in ycur time, and unfairly at that—don’t get mad now; we know each other—I just want to show you that we have no use for a conscier--e. We must play this game to win—we must win— we will win. Say no more about the matter. It will work itself out. Al I want to know is, will you—if I clear the way—will you marry the widow Duval?’ ‘Yes, Jack; I am ready and willing!” ‘And fill the bill to the letter; as I have put it?’ | ‘To the very letter, Jack—I swear it!” “Good! That is all I want to know. Mean- time, however, you must promise to follow my instructions.” * All-right, old man. Anything you say.” ‘And I swear, Tom, if I should die first, 1’ haunt yotantil you carry out ‘your oath, and see my Frankie married to little Bell Duval.” “ You may depend on my doing all that I can.” Thus was everything arranged between these two worthies, and poor Agnes Duval was doomed. Captain Jack Ames lost no time in beginning his work; and, to do him justice, he did it Well, why don’t GO EOMIEDOOKS