Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 22 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

+ 7 A TE NR og em st itt the other arm and the poor girl was literally dragged between them. “Don’t be obstinate! You went fast enough when you ran away, I'll be bound! Girls that run away must suffer a little. But you needn't pant and tremble so, child; we are not going to eat you. You'll live through it, I dare say !” said Ralph, with his habitual sneer. * She seems oncommon weak! Should think she’d been fastin’ for the last three days,” re- marked Stratton, who observed that she hung heavily upon his arm. “It's a way that women have. They can faint and ery when they please, and be as help- less a8 infants. Yes, I understand the nature of ‘em, and Nattie’s nature in particular.” By this time poor Mary Danton’s strength was quite exhausted ; the two men were foreed to carry her by turns. The darkness was in- tense, bus they appeared to know where they were, and went forward without much difficulty, governing their course, in part, by the moss a the trees. They struck a path, at length, when their progress was attended with less ex- ertion. When they stopped, Mary Danton was a helpless weight in their arms. They laid her upon the ground, and were busy some time. “ There's no other place,” said Raljh, in an- swer to a remonstrance from Stratton. “If there was, we'd make use of it. Here we ean secrete her where no one will find her; she can't run away, either.’’ ‘* But the secret ?” said Stratton. “She knows it, already ; and she isn’t one to tattle without strong reasons,” returned Ralph. “Right! Is the ladder ready? It’s a deli- cate i to git her down there, I reckon.” ‘Yes, it requires a strong arm and a steady foot. Will you try it, Nat? Ill go down first and steady the ladder, and see that it’s placed armly at the bottom.” “Go! Ill carry her safe, or be dashed to pieces with her!” Mary Danton had revived enough to hear the last remarks ; as may be imagined, they sent a strange thrill of terror to her heart. Ralph ap- peared to sink into the earth. Nat Stratton took a stout strap from his waist and buckled it arvund Miss Danton, then passed his arm through it and about her. He moved carefully. She was conscious that he was descending a ladder into a space of inky blackness. As he went lower and lower, she felt the frail structure swinging and vibrating with their united weight. She expected, momentarily, to be precipitated into a horrible abyss. The man’s words rang in her ears: ‘‘ I'll carry her safe, or be dashed to pieces with her !” The ladder sprang and swayed like a pendw lum. She heard the ruffian’s heart beat fear- fully, as he held his breath, and groped his per- ilous footing with a firm and determined will. The thought to struggle, destroy his balance, and involve him and herself in one common fate, flashed through her mind. But it was too hor- rible to be put in practice; she instinctivel shrank from such & catastrophe, and listened with keen intensity, expecting to hear the frail support crushing beneath Stratton’s feet. A few moments of unspeakable suspense, and the dan- gerous passage was accomplished. She stood on solid earth. She heard Stratton breathing hard, like one who has made a great effort. “This way,” said Ralph, supporting her. * You can step without fear; the worst is over, It isn’t so bad a place as fen 8 think,” Ralph guided and half carried her some dis- tance in the deepest darkness ; but it was obvi- vus that he was treading familiar ground. ‘Light a lamp, comrade,” headded. “ We've been in darkness long enough. A hundred lamps wouldn't betray us here.” Stratton fumbled and stumbled about a short time, and then the rays of a lamp fell upon the three. * Look at her!” exclaimed Stratton, nearly dropping the lamp. Ralph Quimby turned slowly, and saw, not Nathalia, but a face he had never seen before. He relinquished his hold upon her, and fell back a few paces. “The devil!” said Ralph Quimby. “A hundred devils!" vociferated Stratton. “A strange mistake!” added Ralph, staring at the pale face of Mary Danton. ‘An infernal blunder!” cried the miner. “And I’ve risked my neck for that tattered witeh! By heavens, Ralph! I'm half inclined to believe you knew it.” ‘* You were always a icious fool!” retort- ed Ralph, angrily. “The thing’s happened, and we must make the best of it.” Whitelaw. Ralph took the scarf from the girl’s mouth, and said, roughly : “Speak! Who are you ?” “ Mary Danton,” she murmured. “ Why didn’t you tell us so before ?” growled Stratton. “ For the very nore reason that she couldn’t,”’ | said Ralph, coolly. “ You’d find it hard to speak, yourself, with your mouth tied up.” “ What shall we do with her?’ Stratton ask« ed, moudily. - Ralph looked at her again, and perceived that she was fair. Her hair was dark, soft, and re- dundant; her eyes black and brilliant; her mouth delicately sweet and feminine ; her fig- ure wonderfully like Nathalia’s, graceful, and agreeable to the eye. Something about her touched his heart. His gaze ran over her per- son. Her hands and half-bare arms were white, but wounded by the rude contact of bushes. Her torn garments, too, awakened his curiosity, She had on her feet moccasins of green deer- skin, which bore marks of having been recently and hastily made; they were the handiwork of Kid Kerby. ‘“‘ What shall we do with her?” repeated Strat- ton, impatiently. “ Let her alone,’ answered Ralph, curtly. “ But our secret ?” added Stratton, raising a significant finger. “ I'll be responsible for i and her,” Ralph re- plied, quietly, yet with decision. “The devil you will!” snarled the other, “ What if I don’t choose to agree to it ?” “You will!” said Ralph, with peculiar em- phasis. “T don’t know! I don't know!’ retorted the miner, with a dissatisfied air. “ Nathalia is my niece!” rejoined Ralph, with & magnetic tone and look. He then added, ad- dressing the young woman: “ Mary Danton, you shall not be harmed. You are as safe here as in the camp from which we have, by mistake, taken you.” There was something in Ralph’s heart; it was not pity, neither could it be called love. He had formed a purpose, which was momentarily growing stronger. “Take me back! take me back!” she said, imploringly, leaning against the damp wall of the mine. ‘‘ Wait till to-morrow,” replied Ralph. “ Come this way and sit upon these blankets. Comrade, start a fire. Don’t look moody and sullen. I swear to you it shall all be mght! Think of Nattie !” “Think of her!” he retorted, fiercely. “I can't forget her. ’Tis the thought of her that makes me miserable. You are all leagued against me. I am putoff fromday today. I'll rebel against all of ye, by-and-by. I’m no boy, Ralph—I’m no boat I shall kill somebody, or go mad |” The miner clenched his fists, and drew his face into an expression of pain and passion. He suf- fered. Ralph laid his hands u ders, looked steadily into said not a word. Stratton trembled, moaned like an animal, and turned away, quelled and subdued by the singular ascendency of his com- panion. n the man’s shoul- CHAPTER XIII. MISSING. Bernard met Kerly returning to the camp with the choicest portions of a busk upon his shoulder. They approached the sylvan shelter, conversing cheerfully. The mountaineer threw his burden down at the entrance, and seein that the fire was nearly out, placed the smould- ering brands together, and fanned them into a. flame with his breath. The reviving blaze sent a tremuolous light around. Kerly’s eyes rested on the deserted couch of Mary Danton. He was crouching over the brands; but upon making this discovery, slowly raised himself, with his hands braced upon his knees, brushed the mat- ted hair from his eyes, staring incredulously at the vacant spot. He seemed at length convine- ed that it was no optical illusion, and called Ber- nard, who was outside. He came in at once. «« Gone!” said the mountaineer. Bernard looked around, and perceived that. this laconic announcement pelanrel fo Mary Dan- ton. “ She cannot be far off, I think,” he answered, ina tone of anxiety that belied his words. “ Miss Danton! Miss Danton!” he added, raising hie voice, : Kid Kerly took a blazing fagot from the fire, and examined the ground within the little area, “ You'll have to call louder’n that!” he said, is burning eyes, but 13 throwing his torch upon thé’fire. ‘Here are strange tracks. Things have been disturbed some’at. There are signs of a slight struggle, somebody’s been here, and the gal's carried off.” “Indians, perhaps ?” suggested Bernard. “ Don't | know a buf’ ler from a hogs ?” replied Kid, tartly. ‘“ No red-skins have been here to- night. This is the work o’ people whose skins ought to be white.” “Her friends ma her away,” returned Bernard, dubiously, for he felt that the supposition was not Upp “You don’t believe that yourself,” responded the mountaineer. “If her friends come across her, they wouldn't carried her off this dark night, ’thout stoppin’ to thank them as had saved her life. That'san absurdity, lad! Don’t go to talk to Kid Kerly in that way. Wahl” ‘The miners?” * “That's got more common sense in it. It's jes’ sich a piece o’ work as they’d like. We'll ‘tend to their case in the mornin’.” “Inthe morning!” repeated Bernard. “Can we do nothing to-night? The poor girl may be in terrible danger, and it’s our duty to follow at once.”’ “How you goin’ to foller a trail in this inky darkness? You can’t see your hand afore ye; how, then, discern a human footstep ?” “True!” answered the young man, “ But we can certainly go ont and search in the immedi ate vicinity of the camp, and call her name.”’ “We'll do it,” said Kerby, “for the sake o’ showi’ our good-will ; but nothin’ won't come of it. Listen to what I say. Natur’ isto mea book ; I find characters on the ground which I ean read better’n I can print. The airtu don’t often lie to me. When a foot pressss the sile, there it is, and I can tell, sure as shootin’, wheth- wr it’s a white or a red foot. People can't come nor go ‘thout leavin’ some writin’ that I can un- derstand. Well, there’s writin’ on this little bit of sile, that tells me the gal’s carried off. If an individvoal was to come and say that he seed her carried away, it wouldn't reduce it to a greater em igy 4 my own mind. You hear that—don't e? ell, that’s Kid Kerly’s say. Wah!” have found her and taken| é mountaineer and Bernard went out and — walked several times around the camp, calling a* intervals the name of Mary Danton, then re- ‘tar.ea to wait for morning to solve the mystery. In the night, to the chayrie > Kid, there was a ee fall of rain. ‘“‘]é is all in their favor.’ he said; “It will wash out their tracks and straighten up the bush es. If it hadn’t been for this, I'd follered ‘em to a dead sartinty. You might a put it down as a sure thing; but now we must trust, in a measure, to luck. I’m sorry, because I wanted to show you how to take a trail, and the way I question the airth and the grass, the leaves, the ° sticks and twigs, when I want information.” “One would suppose, answered Bernard, mns- ingly, “that peace ani quietude ought to pre- vail in these solitudes, instead of violence an: the selfish passions ef men. To me, tlere is sacredness in a spot where we are brouyht, as it were, face to face with Nature.” . “You never went trappin’ on the upper branches of Missouri, nor tle tin your blanket beside the Big Red. The fret is, there's. evil and aitaaibarsn de you find the human shape. Where folks a’n’t held in restraint, their true natur’s are apt to break out. I could tell ye lots of instances in p’int, both among red-skins and white-skins. There's love, jealousy, and revenge in the wilderness as well’s out ont. May I never shoot plum’ centre ag’in if there isn't!” The two men were up with the sun. The grass and foliage were laden with water. They waited impatiently till the warm rays had evap- orated the glistening drops. Kid Kerley then went to work in earnest to discover the trail of the miners, and was thus engaged, when they were unexpectedly joined by Whitelaw. “T was seekin bet he said, abruptly. “ Have you seen Nathalia >” | He looked at Bernard ; the latter thought dis- trustfully. He shook his head. “T have seen the man Quimby,” added White- law, “who informed me that she was missing. Indeed, he charged me with haying aided in her flight.” | vt was Bernard's turn to look at Whitelaw, and question his features. If Nathalia had fed, or escaped from Ralph, he-was inclined to the opinion that this mau, who breught the iutetti- gence, had exercised an agency in her disappear. ance. This thought came upon him of a sud: den, and with force. or * To me,” said Bernard, after a moment's re cS Comicboo IEO, z = 9 . . bd a7 » ee —— +. Ltt Al Aan a lee ee