Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 22 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

. — ee = = 14 a flection, “everytifing relating to the young woman, since the time when she was snatched from, me on the night of the storm, is an utter mystery. As you are aware, I searched for her in vain. If you discovered her, you have pru- dently kept the secret to yourself.” The young mans manner was somewhat sar- castic. | “You forget,”. returned Whitelaw, with a slight frown, ‘that we have not met since: the morning following the strange incidents at the miner’s cabin,” “ True!’ replied Barnard. ed that. fact.” ‘““I.was, more fortunate in my search than cu,” “eontinued Whitelew. 1 found Natha- ial” i .““ Where ?” asked Bernard, quickly.., ‘* Not far from the miner's cabin, in a hut that [have sometimes occupied. The poor child was in an evil plight, sadly im need of a friend, I sat by her through a long night, and, though but an awkward nurse, did my best to wake her conifortable,”’ ; A secret feeling of jenlousy crept into Ber- nard’s breast. This man had: discovered Na- thalia ; he had had the inestimable privilege of ministering to her while she was ill, and in need of a friend. _He had sat by her side; he had watched her troubled slumbers, and placed the eup of sympathy to her fevered lips. He had whit hairs; but what of that? His face and expression gave the lie to them. His features were still fresh and pleasing, with a certain stamp of nobility upen them; while his®man- ners were easy, and well ealeulated to inspire a young girl with confidence, Whitelaw watched the, varyi of the young man. Did the “fl color betray guilt or anxiety ? * Was the miner with his nicce on the ocea- sion you speak of ?”’ Bernard inquired. “Without doubt! I, need not tell you that there is little sympathy between them. His presence is a.continual terror to her. You ‘‘T had overlook- countenance uctuations of ~ should bave seen her. , She had evidently beén in, great peril, as her words, manner, and soiled garments testified.” Whitelaw did not turn his gaze from Bernard while speaking. _“She’s allers in danger, in my pinion, when she’s with Ralph «nmby,”. said the mountain- eer ‘ The critter wouldn’t mind throwin’ her down a copper-mine, if she didn’t please him. Wouldn’t trust that man out.o’ my sight. Don't I know? . Ha'n’t 1 seen all sorts o’ human na- tur’s, from whitethrough all the zrades of colors up to red, yaller, and black? L tell ye I want to, look at that varmiit through the hind sights! Td shoot plum’ centre, or I’d never squint along a rifle-barrel ag’in !”” - Whitelaw glanced significantly at the moun- taineer. | pe ae ‘“ You haven't tramped the Northern solitudes for nothing,” he observed, approvingly. .“T know a blue fox from a red!” grunted Kory. | | ‘* You appeared to be looking for a trail when I came upon you,” pursued, Whitelaw. “ Well, Du allow that’s what [’s doin’! We've had our sheer of,adyentur’s since we left the hut o’ that minin’ individual down yender. . We run afoul of a gal jest.on the edges of another world, all on ’count,o’ starvation and wanderin’ about in a lost; condition. But she’d got well nigh through her travels, and was too weak to pat one foot afore t’other. We fell upon her ike good Samaritang.. A few spoonfuls of the The New York Library. hahituals brought. her out of her swound that she. went into at the sight of us, and good nussin’ and broth set her on her walkers agin, as ’twere. See that little camp, don’t ye? |Tisn’t much of a structur’, is it? Dids’t take us long. to build it, though. But I's goin’ to say, that while we’s out arter game last night—Bernard, here, wasn’t . ( more’n half. an an hour, all told—some- ody come and. stole that gal.away! In m my mind, that copper-diggin’ critter had a hand in it. He'll find a hole, sometime, six feet to- wards two p’ints o’ the compass, and six feet perpendie’lar, that won’t be a copper-mine, by a loug shot!” Mad 6 , , Whitelaw heard this story without the least perceptible surprise. If his face expressed any- thing, it was doubt. “‘ Was not this tale, in part, made for the occasion?” was a query that peened almost avolaninyy through his mind. ‘as not this starving girl Nathalia? Was this abduction of which Kid complained anythin more than the simple truth that Ralph h traced and recovered his niece? He turned to Bernard. = * You do not speak, young man?” he re- marked. lied Ross. female waif a name ?” Whitelaw glanced from one to the other, to see if this question was provided for. woman wasn’t so so unfortinit as to lose hers Mary Danfon. Nice name. Wah!” | “ Tt will be hard finding the trail,” returned Whiter 5, after a pause. ‘ The recent rain has v"nhe” tb away probably.” Tr. yan’s thoughts were now concealed by that impenetrable mas of quietude which his face usually wore, ‘Gentlemen, I wish you success,” he added ‘Jam looking for Nathalia.” “ And I, also, shall seek her,” responded Ber. nard, instantly. \Were these two men jealous of each other? Was an incipient dislike to Whitelaw developing within him?’ Had he aught to fear in the way of rivalry from a man with gray hairs? He could not tell ; woman's nature was such a mys- tery ; she bad so many whims and ecaprices, and was so anomalous in her love. “Should you find her,” added Whitelaw, presently, ‘“‘ do not forget that she is friendless, helpless, innocent, and her young life embittered by neglect and persecution.” “I know what is due to her sex,” said Ber- nard, coldly. “We a’n’t turned niggur yet, nor I don’t be- lieve we shall in a hurry! You don't s'pose this youngster’s like them eopper-diggin’ crit- ters, do ye? IfI thought he was. I'd shoot him, lum’ centre, in less nor a mintite: Skin me ike a beaver, if I wouldn't!’ excluimed the mountaineer, with warmth. ‘‘T know yon for an honest fellow, Kid Kerly. Follow the tauil of truth, and we sha’n’t quar- rel,” replied Whitelaw. “T never travel the tangled path of decep- tion. I haven’t got two faces, like a thievin’ Rapaho, who says ‘Friend’ in one corner of his mouth, and ‘Steal’ in the other! Wah!” Whitelaw lingered a moment, as if there was something more that he would say, then thought- fully went his way. CHAPTER XIV. THE LAKE SHORE. Bernard Ross left Kid Kerly diligently and patiently endeavoring to find the trail of the miners. He walked into the forest, meditatin on what he had heard concernitig Nathalia, aie the singular deportment of Whitelaw. He was too much interested in the girl not to be affect- ed by the intelligence of her disappearance. Of the half-hermit, half-misanthrope, who had brought the news, he felt not a little distrust. He perceived that Whitelaw was attracted to Nattie. He recalled, as he strolled onward, the rarticulars of their first meeting at Ralph's eab- in; that his gaze on that occasion was often fix- ed upon her with wonder and admiration, pro- viding he—Bernard—were an apt student in human nature. The favorable impression that the man had made at that time, was rapidly wearing off ; while fear and suspicion were tak- ing the place of:his former convictions. It seemed to him that Whitelaw’s feelings toward Ralph Quimby had changed, he having seareely referred to that individual during the recent in- terview; while at the cabin, he had talked of law and punishment in connection with the miner. Bernard Ross had a strong, resolute will.’ He was wanting neither in firmness nor decision: Born and reared in one of the border towns, he had early learned self-trust. He felt equally at home in the clearings and in the wilderness. There was little or no restraint upon his actions; he was at liberty to go and come unquestioned. His friends relied upon his character and judg- ment, and believed him able to take care of him- self, and make his way in the world. His fre- quent and long absences created noalarm. But he had strangely forgotten the object of this, his latest pilgrimage to the lake. Since seeing Nathalia, gold-hunting had hecome a secondary consideration ; the secret of her lite interested hith infinitely more. She was the treasure he now aspired to possess, As is the case with most vouhé men, when they come under the in- fluence of woman, he was fully assured that he should be miserable without her. “Our friend has saved me the trouble,” re- | : | Trace. ‘“T never seed a critter witliout one,” answer- | ed the mountaineer, promptly ; ‘and this young | when she loet her pretty self. Her name was | 2 So he pushed on, dreaming day-dreams of Nattie of the Woods. He resolved to find her. He would seareh thé world over to discover - where she was hidden! He would slow-track ‘And very ingeniously, too! Had this poor Whitelaw ; he would slow-track the miners, and | every one who had been brought into relation with her during her isolated life in the Ten Miles His mind teeming with images of this kind, he was unconscious that he walked fast and far, and that the wind bad risen, was scat tering the leaves, and whistling through the branches. The dash and roar of waters admon- ished him that he had reached the lake. He sat down upon the shore and saw the billows driven by the winds from the eastern toward the western border. He watched them chasing each otlier till they were lost in the distance. They remind- ed of hope, that ever continually rises im the human breast, moving and billowing on to the i portals of the grave. ad Bernard been less absorbed, he might perhaps have heard some one approaching him cautiously ; but he was in a mood far too dreamy for such practicalities. He did not know exactly what happened, but it appeared to him that he was half annihilated. He fell forward upon his face, with part of his person in the water. There was an instant in which he lost consciousness of the sunlight, the world, and himself. But it was a momentary blank. A confused sense of a blow uron the head, was the first awakening that he had, and that was very dim. He heard voices, and recognized them. Although he lay with his eyes closed, his body motionless and apparently without life, his mind was sufficiently active to take in the startling truth that he had fallen in- tothe hands of Nat Stratton and Ralph Quimby. They decided what was to be done with him. Not a word escaped him. They taiked of the matter as coolly as if it were no more than the “ling of 1 deer. The trunk of a pine tree was lying on the shore, partly imbedded in the sand. hey rolled it down the bank into the water. How plainly he heard them tugging at it! Strat- ton took him by the feet and dragged him along to it; then Ralph assisted to place him upon it, face upward. His arms were drawn downward beneath the log and sceured there by a eord passed from one wrist to the other. His limbs were similarly disposed, and the whole body was firmly lashed to the trunk. Bernard was. conscious of all this, and his feelings may be imagined. ‘A long voyage is before him,” said Stratton. “This stick is pretty well water-logged, and ‘Il sink-afore it reaches the middle of the lake. The wind is fair; blowin’ a regular gale. He'll be ear. ied far atwixt this and mornin’.”’ ‘ \Je’ll never strike me again with the butt ol & pistol!” muttered Quimby. ‘Nor shoot me again in the neck ; nor come between me and Nattie!” ‘‘ Push him off,” said Ralph. ‘ Let’s see how he floats. If he’s picked up anywhere, it’s like- ly to be a hundred miles from here, if this wind continues.” | ‘Stratton gave the tree a push with his foot, and it moved from the shore. “Look!” he cried, suddenly. ‘ His) cheeks flush! There's life in him! Hadn't I better send a bullet through his head ?” “On no account! Let him come round, if he will. I'd like to have him know whose good-will has given him this drift upon the lake,” answer- ed. Ralph, with a malignant laugh. “The world would call that) murder, I suppose,” he added, as if talking to himself; ‘but it's only a blow and @ voyage ona log. See! he moves his héad. He’s aliye! nobody can say that we killed him He will die by water—not by the hand of man.” “ That’sogie, I reckon!’ returned Stratton. with a shrug. “ But in my ’pinion, it’s poor logics. I give him a blow with a club, and it was no love-pat, Ralph Quimby; I struck with a will; and there was hatred and murder in my heart! , You encouraged me dit, Ralph, you . » whip, know you did. But I'm mads The gal has driven-me out o’ my Benses, You've led me on like a devil.. They say,” he continued, laying his hand on Quimby’s shoulder, “that a person never has any rest after such a deed. . How is it with you?” bias “ Don't talk!” retorted Quimby, shaking off Stratton’s hand, “I don't know; I never killed anybody.” * “ There was Niel. Travis?” said the other. “ He’s alive!” was the gruff reply. “ Ay, but you consented. You did more than consent ; in your mind, there wasa real murder.” “ What do you want?” asked Ralph angrily. “What are you eoming at? Do you begin te whine so svon ?” | 00 EGomic ‘SS (E(O) ee ee a NE a +