Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 209 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

ee Buck oOo Se Sid == As the other lad bent down and gazed intent- i. ly at the lifeless face, the girl’s eyes opened, and | her lips parted. 4 ‘* She is not dead, Benito,” said Leon. , Both of them raised her in their arms, and she shuddered as she looked around. ‘‘ What does this mean?” she feebly muttered. “Oh, Benito, is it you? They have taken him iy oe ** Who has been taken away, dear Rose? Is it Dorlon?’ ** Yes, it is Dorlon, They have taken him away to kill him,” “ Which way did they go?” She could on] y shake her head sadly. ‘I can guess,” said Benito, as he rose to his feet with the as of his cane. “They have gone to Death Gulch. I will follow them, dear ose, and I will try to save him.” Her eyes thanked him; but her hopeless face told him that she had no faith in his success. “Stay with her, Leon! Take her to the house as soon as she is able to walk. Haveno fear for me, Rose. I will domy best.” The hunchback hobbled away as fast as his infirm limbs could carry him with the help of his cane. ; Dorlon’s captorsin the mean time had taken him about half a mile further through the timber toward the west. Then they lifted him in their arms, waded the stream, set him down on the other side of the creek, and pursued a northward course over the broken prairie. The man who was doomed to death walked among them, one at each side, one behind him, and Pedro Rosalba leading the way. He did not speak to them, as he knew well that neither entreaties nor threats would avail to prevent their foul purpose. His face was pale in the growing darkness; but his eye did not quail, and his lips were closed firmly as he walked with steady steps to certain death. Nor did his executioners care to use their tongues. They no longer reviled or taunted him, and said nothing of the fate that was in store for him, Even to them there was some- thing awful in their errand, and Pedro Rosalba found no brutal jests ready to raise the spirits of bis comrades. They looked neither at their prisoner nor at each other, and even forbore to curse when the broken ground betrayed their footsteps. Thus they silently pursued their northward course, as swiftly as the difficulties of the way would allow, until they reached the edge of a chasm, where the ground, for the space of sev- eral acres, seemed to have sunk in some awful convulsion of nature, leaving an oblong space in which nothing but darkness was visible. Edward Dorlon was no stranger to the place, for it was known far and wide as Death Gulch, . and its reputation was that of a bottomless pit. At noontime, when the sun was shining, trees and rocks could be distinguished for a consider- able distance down its dark sides; but further down there were depths that no eye could pene- trate at any time or in any light. A stone cast far out from the edge gave back no sound when it descended, and it was the current belief of the white men, as it was the tradition of the red- men, that its depth could not be sounded. No living thing that had fallen into that fear- ful chasm had ever been known to emerge from its secret recesses, and the spot was avoided even in daylight by men and beasts, as if there was danger in approaching it. The moon, then near the full, had risen, and was shining brilliantly in an almost cloudless sky, silvering the broad prairie at the east, and lighting up the rocks and gullies near the chasm ; but the brightness of the moonlight only served _ to make deeper and more intense the darkness of Death Gulch. As Dorlon and his captors stood near the brink of that black abyss, their faces pale and unearthly under the stars, he knew the fate to which the cruelty of Pedro Rosalba and the mean jealousy of Manuel Vincente had doomed him; but he did not flinch, and he disdained to sue for mercy. ) Ata sign from the Mexican his legs were tied ts at the ankles, but he was left standing, | Then for the first time since he had left the spot where Rose lay lifeless on the ground, he opened his lips to speak. He looked upon the four men who stood about Ab him, and they shrunk from his gaze. “T know you all,” he said— you, Pedro Rosalba; you, Manuel Vincente; you, Bill Saunders; and you, Mike Rafferty.” I know what you mean to do, and that there is no es- cape for me. But I warn you all that from this night henceforth you will be marked men. You shall yet pay the debt you owe me, and, the others at his legs; and thus they held bim, with his feet pointing toward the black abyss. At that moment Benito, exhausted by his ex- ertions, and almost breathless, struggled to- ward them. “Father!” he cried, ‘what are you doing? Do not kill that man! For God’s sake—for my sake—do not kill him!” “Get away from here!” said Rosalba, turn- ing a frowning face upon the deformed Jad. 2, he back as you came, or I will whip you like a dog!” ‘* Do not kill him!” cried Benito again. ‘It is murder!” He had scrambled up the side of a gully, and was within reach of them, his pale face up- turned to the moonlight, and his eyes stream- ing with tears. ith an oath the Mexican raised his foot, without loosing his hold on Dorlon’s shoulder, and fiercely spurned the Jad. Benito fell back- ward into the gully, and lay there, breathless and bleeding. ** Now, my lads,” said Rosalba, ‘let us make an end of this. Swing him as I count. **One—swing! ‘“*Two—swing! * Three—go !” At the word ‘‘ Go /” their helpless victim was shot out over the edge of the abyss, and fell down into the darkness. His looked and listened, but neither saw nor heard anything more. CHAPTER Ii. DOWN IN THE DEPTHS. Epwarp DoRLON involurtarily closed his eyes when he was let loose from the murderous hands that had ewan bim, and held his breath as he went downward. He was keenly alive to the sensation of fall- ing, and only wondered whether the breath | bottom of Death Gulch, if that fearful chasm had any bottom. He did not fall to the bottom, and the breath was not driven out of his body by his rapid descent. That side of Death Gulch was not perpen- dicular, as it was generally supposed to be, and the strength of his four executioners was not sufficient to send him clear of its sbelving slope. Far below the spot from which he had been shot forth, a tall cedar tree sent its trunk up- ward toward the sunlight, and its top, flat, broad, and with many green and robust branches, spread out there asif it had grown with the one purpose of catching that doomed man in its strong embrace. It was a fearful fall, but not a killing one. Thanks to his precaution in holding his breath, it was still in his body when he struck the tree, and the shock caused him to open his mouth and take in an ample supply of air. He fell with great violence, and crashed down through the branches of the tree, doubling up his body, and bruising and tearing his flesh severely; but finally the resistance of the cedar limbs overcame the impetus of his fall, and he descended no further. ' Then he rested, if the cessation of motion’ could be called rest. He found himself doubly helpless. Not only was he bound hand and foof, but he lay in such an awkward position, and had been so roughly handled by contact with the tree, that it was torture to him to aan to move. Yet he was alive, and the thought was a comfort to him, whatever fate the near future might hold in store, So he rested, or at least remained quiet, until he had regained possession of his senses, and a fair portion of his strength had returned to him. Then he endeavored, with such feeble means as he was able to use, to ascertain his exact position, and to cast about for a way of escape sot the peril that was so pai y pressing m. The darkness that enveloped him was more intense than that of any night he had ever experienced, It was an utter and absolute blackness, that hemmed him in and pressed apes him until it seemed as if it would smother him. Byno upecning of the eyes could he possi- bly see anything, and the cords that so tightly bound his arms and wrists prevented him from using those useful members, his hands, for feel- ing. Tet he could feel. Thesensations of his body, inful and otherwise, could give him some in- ication of his position, and his fingers were partly free. Concentrating bis mind upon the point of discovery, he concluded that he was lying across | OR erm nae living or dead, I will be on hand for the settle- | two branches of the tree, and perceived that his ment. Now do your worst!” shoulders were higher than the rest of his body. y The four men actually trembled. There was | He must be near the place where the branches an impressiveness in the words of their victim | left the tree, or they would be spread so far y that struck fear to the depths of their brutal na- | apartas to let him fall through. To test this matter he wormed himself inward, though at the risk of falling, uatil he could touch the trunk with his head. ; His next wae pes, cere that he was also lying ona portion of a bent branch, that had n crushed downward by bis weight. Feeling it as well as be could with his fingers, he came ** Bah!” exclaimed Rosalba, with a harsh and forced laugh. “The fellow talks like a fool. Seize him, amigos! Swing him off, and let | ‘him tell his story to the dead!” Lt ipa the a man with their hands _ Rosalba and his nephew at the shoulders, and . . . - ad - Farley, the Bonanza Prince. ee executioners | | would be out of his body before he reached the | j across a fractured piece of wood, where one of the side shoots had been broken from the bent branch. It was rough and jagged, and the eerie oecurred to him that he had a use for i Abovo all things it was necessary that be should get his hands free, and this ragged piece of wood at least offered him a chance, vs he could feel it with his fingers, it was not a very difficult matter to move his body so that the cord that bound his wrists should come in con- tact with it, and then he would try what fric- tion and patience would do. When he had succeeded in getting the cord against the broken wood, he moved his arms up and down with the action of sawing. He had little play for them, bound as they were, but that little was sufficient for his purpose, it it could be accomplished in any way. Bruised and sore as his body was, and in his strained position, the labor was tiresome and painful; but he persevered, as that was his only chance of safety. It was a serious question which would wear out first, the cord or the broken wood; but time would tell, and there was at least a little hope to cheer him as he worked. It was his exhausted nature that first gave way. ven as he was rubbing the cord against the wood, he fell asleep, and slept soundly. He was awakened by the flapping of heavy wings. A buzzard, in the gray light of dawn, had spied him sleeping in the branches of the cedar, had supposed him to be a corpse, and had come down to ftaston him. But his opening eyes stayed the fight of the foul bird, and his hoarse cry scared it away. it flew upward, pe patiently, and he knew what it was waiting for This incident fully roused him to a sense of his situation, and again he set at work to rub the cord against the broken wood. It was a tiresome and almost hopeless task, and at times he rested from it, mee y doubting if he had not better twist hims: lf loose from the branches that held him, and accept whatever fate his fall would give him. But again and agein he renewed the task with the energy of despair, and at last the loosening of the cord at his wrist told him that it had given way! Tae relief from the long strain was so great that be nearly swooned; but again he roused himself to exertion, and endeavored to get rid of the cord. Fortunately for him, only one - had been tied, and he was able to shake it off. His hands were free, and that meant a chance for life. He gradually brought them around in front of his body, and rubbed his arms until the blocd flowed freely through them, and strength returned to them, Then it was an easy matter to cast off the lashings that bound his feet, and a thrill of joy ran a him as he knew that he was master of himself. There was a faint light down there in the top of the cedar, which was gradually growing stronger. Looking upward, he saw red streaks in the sky, which told him that day was break- ing. . fie took his watch from his pocket, and held it to ear. To his surprise, it was still run- ning, and he hastened to wind it, Its lively ticking seemed to tell him that he was not done — with time, He secured upon his person the cords with which he had been bound, and prepared to go down further into the depths, as it was clearly impossible to ascend the gulch. ; t was an eany matter to descend the tree as far as the branches went, and then he slid down to its base. The latter part of the descent did not lack much of being a fall, and when he reached the ground bis breath was nearly gone, and his hands and arms were blistered. ready to despair,’ When he had rested, be arose and looked | around, end fourid himself on a narrow ledge. In the uncertain light he saw something lying near him on the flat rock, and he stooped to examine it. It proved to be the clothes and skeleton of a man, from which the flesh’ had been picked clean by buzzards, Overcoming a strong repugnance, he examin- ed the clothing for weapons, and found a re- volver and a bowie-knife, scarcely rusted, and a belt of cartridges, all of which he secured up- on his own person. | Evidently he did not believe that his lease of life had run out. There was another thing that he found there —a long lariat of rawhide, coiled, and in good condition, and this he seized eagerly. Then he stepped to the edge of the rock, and looked down into the chasm. Daylight had not yet penetrated the remotest copehe of the guleb; but he could see, at a con- siderable distance below him, the top of another tall cedar, and he thought that wi the lariat he might be able to reach it, He dropped an end of the pliable rope down the face of the cliff, and strained his eyes to watch it as it swung, but was sure that it did not reach the tree. This fault he proesntne to remedy. at once. He had saved the cords, with which he had the aid of. | Eomicboolks (E(0)