Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 22 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

! { ' ' if bs ’ fi - ome oe = ee ee ee ee ee ee eC — — — => sr — — = = es SS a -_—-—— = —~ _ this charming spectacle. because I’ve lost my wits. eee ee LL II A LL I ’ o — . : 16 —— C—O * “Wh t voice is that?” asked Bernard, vague- ly. “It is Queen Nattie’s.” Bernard looked at Owen dubiously ; his con- sciousness vibrated between the light and dark- ness. If one moment brought him apprehen- sive powers, the next swept them away. He had an indefinate consciousness of the presence of Nathalia, but it was misty and dream-like. Owen, at length, gos him upon his feet, and aid- ed by Nathalia, succeeded in supporting him to the lodge. Then began the work of nursing an! friendly ministration. Bernard forg:t his sufferings, and with the half-realized spell of Nattie upon him, sank into a grateful and re- freshing sleep CHAPTER XVI. DISCONTENT. To awake in the mornin surrounded by Owen and his family, was a strange surprise to Bernard. Nathalia, however, drew more of his attention than any other ob- orn It was a pleasure to see her sitting quiet- y in arural chair, constructed by the ingenious hands of the self-constituted sovereign of the island; that seat was the throne of this sylvan queen. It was raised upon a platform some eighteen inches higher than the natural floor of the lodge, and accessible by two steps covered with deer-skin. Nattie’s royal feet rested on a mat of otter fur. She was certainly, in the esti- mation of the young man, no contemptible power. Allegiance to her would be no hard- ship. He would gladly have prostrated himself before the simple majesty of her beauty. He believed her worthy to be the Queen of Hearts. He envied Tawny, who was gracefully crouch- ing on the steps, and the squirrels that some- times perched on her evergreen throne. Owen was stretched on a panther skin at the other side of the lodge, contemplating his house- hold with manifest satisfaction. Bernard felt how great the change had been from death on the Jake to this new life. He was fain to fancy that he had fallen upon real genii, whose enchantments had deniuied inte visibility He was afraid the magic wand would wave again, and the whole vanish. Nathalia perceived that he was looking at her: she blushed and smiled joyfully. She hastened to inquire how he found himself? if his sleep had been refreshing? if he felt quite restored ? ‘TI am better,’ answered Bernard, ‘“‘than I ever expecte] to be. I can hardly believe that I am here and living. I cannot tell you what I have suffered.” “The wicked ones didn’t kill you that time,” said Owen. ‘Some person or persons made a horrible at- tempt on your life, it would seem,” observed Nathalia. , “ Yes,” answered Bernard, shuddering. ‘We'll find all that out vue of these days,” added Owen. “You shall stay on my island till you are well; and the killers will tremble when you see them.” Nattie was by this time very pale. A suspi- cion of the perpetrators of this outrage was doubtless inher mind. She did not care to have her thoughts confirmed. The subject was sick- ening and distasteful. She desired that the past might be obliterated. If the names of Ralph Quimby and his associates were never mention- ed in her presence, she should be glad. Bernard perceived her emotion, and was dis- posed to dwell no longer on the subject. “Owen and his devil have talked about the killers,” said the mad boy. ‘ We've made u our minds about them; we know, but we won't tell. They are iookin’ high and Jow for Nattie. Well, let them pecp and peer, and spy about, an trail through the woods. “But never you fear !”’ “This is a very strange youth!” remarked Bernard. “ Do youthink so?” interposed Owen. “ It’s You'll never know anything till you've lost your wits. Tawny, don’t you see he’s goin’ to get up? Bring him some water to wash his face, wud cook him some- thing to eat.” Bernard’s recovery wat .apid. In two days he was able to walk about the island. During that time Owen made several! visits to the shore in his eanoe.. The young man wandered with Nathalia through the green bowers of this water- irt retreat. There was a 2 pleasure in this. e desired nothing better. He was satisfied to dwell there forever witli Nattie. It was just the spot for love. With her, his desires would ney- and fina himself er wander outside the limits of the island. He | thought all this, but had not yet uttered it. He would declare himself some time, when he had learned more of her inclinations and feelings ; but there was no need to hurry the matter. To be premature, was to risk all. Nathalia, thus thrown alone upon his ae and protection, was often timid and reserved. This cireumstance did not surprise him much, for it seemed natural to the peculiar position in which she was placed. He explored with her nearly every part of the island, which was about two miles across at its widest point, and in a circular form, rising out of the water likea beautiful green hillock. Tawn always followed them, at a distance of half-a- dozen yards, with her hands crossed behind her, her eyes fixed straight before her; never turn- ing to the right or left with the ordinary curi- osity of children. Bernard often looked back, wonderingly at the grave, undemonstrative little creature, who was ever in sight, but never came too near, or talked, or obtruded, or meddled in any manner. Although thus haunted, neither were disturbed or annoyed. And so the bare head and shoulders and feet followed them wher- ever they went. One iar Bernard walked alone. He liked a solitary ramble, because he could think of Na- thalin without interruption. On this particular occasion he wandered nearly around the island. The air was pleasant and balmy ; it was aluxur to be in the sunshine and shade. Wearied wit exercise, he turned his face in the direction of Owen’s palace. He had gone but a short dis- tance when he beheld a sight that made him pause. Through a vista in the trees, he saw Nathaliaand Whitelaw. Far enough from them to form a somewhat lengthy triangle, he descri- ed, also, the inevitable Tawny. This tableau Bernard had not expected: it took him by sur- prise. Nothing could have disturbed him so much. They were simply looking at each other, at first ; now they began to talk. He could not hear them; but he knew they were conversing, by their gestures. Gone was Bernard’s con- tentment. A dark cloud of doubt hung over him ; jealousy cruelly beset him. The only man that he feared as a rival, had appeared on his happy island through the influence of some malignant star. His former impressions were prophetic. Nathalia’s manner was no longer reserved, he thought. There was a certain confidence be- tween the two that troubled him. Whitelaw began to look like his enemy. Jeal- ousy promised, soon, to develop hatred and re- sentment. He stood silent and miserable in his covert till they parted, then followed her slowly to the lodge. He did not tell her what be had seen ; he waited to see if she woul’ allude to it. Another person on the island was certainly an event worth speaking of. If she concealed the fact, would it not shew that he came there as a lover? It was easy to interpret her taciturnity into maiden reserve: thus he construed it, for she said nothing of having seen Whitclaw. A doubt is bad in all cases: Bernard had a doubt, and it poisoned his enjoyment. The beautiful island. Jost a part of its charm. A change came over him. He grew moody and absent. The thought that Whitelaw was on the island, was sufficient to annoy and fret him. He resolved to find hith and bring the matter to a crisis at once. He searched the island, he walked its length, and breadth, and circum fer- ence. He addressed himself to the pursuit with morbid intensity. Nothing came of a]] this la- bor, at first; but at length success seemed to crown his endeavors ; he discovered Whitelaw, one day, near the shore; but he mysteriously disappeared, nor could he find him again at that time. Mystery, as well as love, had visited Owen’s kingdom. “Owen,” said Bernard, on his return, “ does any one besides ourselves live on this island ?” « Yes,” answered the youth, ‘A great many birds, and deer, and squirrels.” “T don’t mean animals, but persons ?” Bernard kept his eyes npon Owen. “Never you fear!” said the youth, with sig- nifieant motions of the head and hands. “ No- body will hurt you. Queen Nattie has a smile and a blush for you. Ah, ha! that is a great deal, If the killers come, we’ll send them away. We will get the best of the wicked ones, yet. A cunnin’ fellow who runs heside me, savs that. He knows; there’s nothing but he has a hand in. Don’t be east down, Prince Bernard. You may kiss the hand of the Queen, some time. hal” | The New York Library. CHAPTER XVII. KID KERLY AND NEIL TRAVIS. We left Kid Kerly doing his best to discover some sign to guide him to Mary Danton, in whose fate he took a lively interest. He brought into use all that skill that life in the mountains had taught him; but the heavy rain ha‘ effectu- ally washed away the trail of the abductors. | Most faithfully he adhered to his aH Ose, @Xx- ecting momentarily to be joined by Bernktl he day gradually declined, and the young man’s non-appearance began to give him un- easiness, “T’m sure he wouldn't desart me,” he mutter- ed to himself, rising from the bent and painful osition necessary to the close exam nation he had been making. ‘“Some’at has happened to him, sure as shootin’! He isn’t no coward ; didn’t *pear to be, leastwise. I'll trail him. Wah!” The mountaineer was not long in discovering the fresh trail of Bernard ; to him it was as plain as a post-road. “ What a good thing a little larnin’ is!” said Kid, with a quiet chuckle. “If the lubbers down in the settlements wanted to find a miss- in’ person, they’d go runnin’ this way, an’ that, hurry-skurry, hollerin’ like mad. They don't understan’ the quict, business-like matter of tak- in’ a trail and stickin’ to it. Lord! they don't know a sign from a rabbit-track. Here it runs along like a thread. I allow he’s struck a rifle- ball line to the lake, and he went at «n unequal gait, too; for sometimes his steps are long and hurried, and then ag'in short and draggin’. The ery rl was thinkin’ perdigious! If he was not, [ don’t know hind-sights from fore-sights.” Thus drawing inferences and communing with himself, Kid Kerly tracke] Bernard Russ to the shore of the lake. He stood on the margin of that great inland sea. The sun was still high enough to gleam brightly along the waters and fall pleasantly on the form of the mountaineer, who gazed out upon the glassy expanse with emotions of pleasure. He turned from this eon- templation, anon, to the immediate abject of his search. “ Straight to the water,’ he mused. “ Tlasn't gone into Lake Superior to bathe, has he? A confounded long swim acrost it, maybe. what you talkin’ about, old hoss?” he added, addressing himself. ‘Tend to your business, won't Hillo! more tracks.” Kerly made a careful inspection of the shore. “Them copper-diggin’ eritters, true’s I live! T smell mischief, J do! Here’s a stout stick, ind here’s a drop of blood on a stone, and “‘here’s where they rolled a log into the water [ see it all as plain as ifI’d been hid up there m the bushes while ’twas goin’ on. There's been a murder, that’s sartin! Poor Bernard! The tied his body to the trunk of atree. The wind’s been blowin’ like great guns all day, nearly, and he’s a good ways off by this time. Traps and trapsacks! I should like to shoot them white niggurs plum’ centre! To think the lad was with me, ‘live and well, no longer ago nor this mornin’! Now, where is he? Rapped on the head onawares, and sent out to sea on a log. We're short-lived critters, we be. We don't stan’ it Jong, noways. Some’at happens to us. But this isn't the proper fashion o’ goin’. Ifa ehap must go under, let him be rubbed ont ‘cordin’ to the course o’ natur’ by an Injun tomahawk or gun, and have nis har lifted hike a decent human. Ay, that’s the style, and I expect to go so. They'll find old Kid Kerly, one o’ these Jays, bleachin’ at the foot of a mountain, or whitenin’ peacefully by the bank of a stream. I want the suns of the great Nor'- west to shine on me, even arter I’m dead, till every ounce of me crumbles to the sile, and the perarie grass springs dark from my ashes.” Kid Kerly removed his eap, and pushed his long hair behind his ears, ‘* Don’t go to knockin’ me on the head !™ he went on, with increasing earnestness, ‘ Dou't go to Jaunchin’ me into old Superior! That won't do for an old trapper, you know? If ye should try that on to this hoss, I'd git right up and walk my bones straight to the mountains, where I’ve hunted, and — and played hide-and-seek with danger, an fen myself doin’ it. Kid Kerly owes his skulp to the red ss and he a'n't agoin’ to cheat ’em out on't!” He wiped his tawny forehead with his sleeve, pee glunced indignantly at the steps in the sand, “ You treacherous dogs!" he resume), shak- ing his rifle threateningly. ‘ You've got an old paniser arter you, that'll be likely to mp | pd GOMINGEVOCGKS EE But, —, (E() — eee A