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

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

22 ee shore, where it could be seen at all, looked like a low, dark bank of fog. , ‘“ We shall starve !” said Ralph. “ You may starve, but J sha’n’t!” replied Nat, doggedly. “The same miserable, uncomfortable, eternal idea! A cat or a dog, a monkey or an ape, were a better companion. I am glad that Nathalia has escaped a fool !” | “Don’t press a. man who is already beset by | invisible foes,” answered Stratton, arising, and looking threateningly at Quimby. “A good | many thoughts come into a person’s mind under | cireumstanees like these, and if some of ‘em are | dangerous, whose fault is it? How long do you | s’pose a man would float on these disturbed waters ?” The speaker glared wildly at his comrade. “ T don’t know,” said the latter, mechanically, while a new fear seized him. “Nor I; but I feel an unconquerable desire to find out,” returned Stratton, musingly. ‘ Are you strong, Ralph?” “ As a tiger!” Quimby watched every movement of his dan- gerous associate in crime. ‘So much the better! You'll struggle longer. As the raft floats from you, yo will glance back at me as Bernard did. I never shall for- get that look! Say your prayers, Ralph; I’m goin’ to throw you in!” ‘‘ Down, idiot!” vociferated Ralph. ‘ Don't you see that I have both guns beatae me ?”’ “But they are drenched. with water; the powder is wet. Ha! ha! I have you, Ralph.” “You reckon too fast, madman! I have something here that is dry and sure.”” He drew a revolver from the breast-pocket of his coat. “Do you see this? Down, and be quiet! L have the advantage, but I shall not use it. You have no power to harm me. Without me, you can never see Nathalia; without me, you will have committed crime for nothing! Save your strength; you'll need it. The chances are as ten to one against us. God only knows how long we shall broit here in the sun, and starve, and drift about. Be calm, crazy brute — be ealm !” Quimby approached Stratton boldly ; laid his hand on his back; patted him as ‘he would a sullen dog ; touched his cold forehead with the sips of his fingers ; looked steadily into his wan- dering eyes; whispered the name of Nathalia; adding, in a soothing tone: “Be quiet, com- rade, be quiet!» You've had a dream; a bad, bad dream. You've harmed no one; it'was a miserable vagary, growing out of the tumult and thunder of the waters. Do you hear me, Nat? I say you have dreamed, and nothing more. You'll do very well, by-and-by. We're taking a pleasant voyage; we're floating to a green island to see Nattie. Ah! don’t you see the shore? How beautiful the foliage is! Birds begin to sing. Hark! is not that the voice of Nathalia ?” | Stratton’s eyelids trembled; a tremor went over him; his eyes grew milder; he threw him- self on his face upon the raft, sobbed and moan- ed faintly, and-finally lay very still. Ralph went back to his place, and sat there hopelessly, while the sun passed the meridian ait went glittering and glowing to the west. A fog settled upon the lake, which made the night intensely dark. The wind began to blow again, but not so fiercely, and the two faint and miser- able ve eons tossed drearily and despairingly upcn the billows, — CHAPTER XXIV. | take, for a moment. the form of Kid tt. i cen’ tip The New York Library. we devoured raw. This morning, thinking we might perhaps fare better, and this island being nearer the shore, we got our raft afloat and con- trived to paddle it here, though it cost us a deal of labor. If you have anything fit for Chris- tians to eat, make haste to give it to me.” “ Where is your comrade ?” “Stretched on the shore, like a swine! fact is, suffering has unsettled his reason.” The ‘‘ Wait here,” said Whitelaw ; and immediately | left Ralph. He walked some distance before stopping ; then lifting the thick bouglis of a low pine, went under them and disappeared. He came out again, presently, bringing some food, with which he returned to Quimby, who led him to the spot where he had left Stratton found him lving on the ground in a stupid sleep. Ralph shook him roughly. Seeing Whitelaw, he would have fled; for his terrors made him Perceiving his mistake, he affected to lang and accounted for the vagary by saying that he had been dreaming of the mountaineer. He até heartily of the food that Whitelaw had brought, and appeared quite rational.’ Ralph and the latter went aside and conversed. “ Mivht I take the liberty of asking your ob- ject in visiting one of the islands?’ Whitelaw asked. Ralph Quimby was not prepared for this ques- tion, but he soon had a plausible answer. “ | didn’t know,” he replied, ** but my niece might have been carrie tors.” “There are several ‘slands ?” ‘¢]T intended to visit them all,’ said the miner. “Have you heard anything of Nathalia?” Whitelaw continued. Ralph glanced at the interrogator. ‘| have not,” he answered. “ Have you had any better success ?” alph’s eyes had now much of their former fire and intensity. His gaze did not wander for an instant from the composed features of W hite- law. .“T have made no particular efforts to find your niece,” he said, impassively. * And you know nothing concerning her ?” “T have nothing to communicate,” returned Whitelaw, quietly. ‘ Nothing to communicate !’ repeated Ralph, whose haggard features began to be animated with new life. The muscles of his mouth twitch- ed convulsively. Whitelaw was studying the man with an in- quisitiveness for which he could not himself ac. count. ‘Do you know,” he said, bending forward a little upon his rifle. * that an odd faney comes over me? You look like one who has dene is, or should be, my enemy.” The hollow cheeks of Ralph flushed feverish- ly. His breast heaved with emotion. spired with difficulty. He dared not trust his voice to speak. The bitterness that was in him | wanted vent; but expression would destroy the completeness of his fet te pose! Ralph forgot the —the wind, the waves, the darkness, the death, and the horror of remorse, and how his sins had followed him on the lake, the half- | formed prayer, and the incipient resolve of a | The | better life. All, all was swept away! sweetness of retaliation ; the unholy satisfaction of inflicting pain for a suppositious injury ; the unnatural desire to see one he hated, crushed, humiliated, shocked, trodden into the mire of conscious calamity, swept away and triumphed over every redeeming thought. The image ofa HALF REMEMBERED. | beautiful woman, who loved him not, stood be- Whitelaw, after his interview with Bernard, sought the deepest seclusion of the island. He believed himself quite alone, and was thinking of what had just passed, when a pale and hag- ard object approached and called him by name. Whitelaw aid not at once recognize the voice and countenance, but a closer inspection reliev- ed all doubt; it was Ralph Quimby. He had fore him in his heated fancy. ‘What follies and fancies pursue us!” added Whitelaw. “What impossibilities we conjure into existence! What unrealities we make! The mind is @ magician, Ralph Quimby. You make me think of an unhappy being, wha went back to great mother Earth years ago. Now, isn’t it strange that you, standing bent atote me, should They |: there by her abdue- | He re- | ‘thicket of pines. Ah, that pur- angers he had ae ! ear of || — with kim, and would have given him a fall so that he would have “ halted’ evermore in the valley of humility. Unfortunately, just then he saw the face of Nat Stratton, with all its old wickedness and ferocity upon it; the evil of his nature communicated like dry tinder with the soul of the hesitating, conscience-stricken Ralph. He was transformed. He scorned the voice that called him; he said to Repentance: ‘‘ Go thy way till a more convenient season.” And the meek-eyed spirit went. His demon whirled him back eye to eye with Whitelaw. ‘I’m a plain man,” he said—he began hoarse- ly, but his voice grew clearer—* I can’t compre- hend what you say.”’ It was a fouland heaven-daring lie, _He com- prehended all—and more than was said.» ‘ You seemed moved, and yet I know not why you should be affected, in any manner, by my drifting thoughts,’’ answered Whitelaw, mourn- fully. ‘Let us speak of Nathalia,” said Ralph, al- most in a whisper. “It is a name, musical to my ears! I had rather other lips had a right to speak of her; but 1 suppose this must inevitably be.” White- law looked down and sighed. | “Tf you love her,” continued Ralph, _ still speaking low, and not daring to encounter the gaze of the other, “ there is no need that you should hide her away. If you want her, she is yours.” . | His tones had the ring of honesty. “T ought to thank you for such words as these,” rejoined Whitelaw, ‘ but the impulse of gratitude is not so strong upon me as T could wish it. She is sweet, she is good, she is beau- taful !” piaea “And yours,” added Ralph, “if you will it. “ An invisible foree holds me back!” ‘‘Tt holds vou from a treasure, then, and I can only say, follow your own honorable impulses. “Miner, I may have done you injustice; if have, I trust you will not remember it to my burt. We met under peculiar circumstances.” “Let vygones be bygones. You cannot visit my sins upon her?” answered Ralph, deprecat- ingly. : Nor shall I. I will reflect upon what you have said. Nathalia shall choose or reject.” “She is on this island ?” The remark was interrogative rather than af. firmatory. “Let us separate now; we will discuss this subject further at another time. Remain on this part of the island, if remain you must. 1 will supply you with food. Do not wander about. To-morrow we will decide this interesting ques- tion. Are you content?” “T am; I will neither press nor follow you.” So they separated. CHAPTER XXYV. DISCOVERIES, Neil Travis slept but little that night in the The thought of Mary Danton haunted him, Befuvre morning he aroused Kid Kid Kerly. “T can’t rest,” said Neil. “I don’t think I shall ever rest till I settle this question about Mary Danton. “No doubt but that’s your idee. That was pooty much my case when I’s in love with that red sweetness that arterward become Mrs. Kid. There was loveliness for ye! Sich a figger was never afore known. And then tliat face o’ hers! Why, it was all sunshine, and nighabout the ‘same color; ‘specially when the sun’s uncom- mon red. I used to dream of her when I's ‘trappin’ in the howlin’ wilderness, and more’n one is the nightmare I’ve had on her account. I's precious afeard somebody ‘d git her away from me; and that was partly what made me oncomfortable.” ‘So you've felt the power of beauty, moun- taineer 7 | “T have, true’s you live! | felt nothin’.” ‘“ Well, how did it end ?” If I ha’n’t, I never greatly changed since he and Whitelaw had last m he | ty my ae hie Me Son and unnamable fears ? . = That you should call into action and palpabilit “What has hap ened ?”, the latter inquired, sdcnioh persons, and situations, that io 'fis ‘ett “You look like a devotee after fort days’ fast.”"| know, have not the remotest connection with “T have reason to! I have had a long voy-| you? Is it the sound of a voice, the gleam of age on a raft. Some four days ago, Nat Strat- an eye, the turn of a face, the rounding of a ton and I thought to reach one of the little isl use e, the chance-play of features. that recall ands near the shore, on some logs lashed togeth- | Hoth m happiness and my misery ”” er, The wind blew us away, and we've liad a Ralph slowly revolved on his heels ; he turn- horrible time.” : | ' “Have you been without food so long ?” sand distracting thoughts shook him. All, all: “Not so bad as that, Two days since, we | depended upon this fraction of time. Should drifted upon the island nearest this, where we he full at this man’s feet, and confess his sins. found avme eggs and killed some birds, which | against him? His better angel was wrestling |’ tle f fi ed his face from Whitelaw. A thousand, thou- “In matrimony—in the real, giniwine, right- | down, old-fashioned matrimony! I was a trifle | older nor she was ; but her affections was sot on me as firm as if I’d been no more nor twenty She was a faithful critter—Milly was.” “Is she dead ?” ““Not as I knows on. She and our little gal was stole away by a band of thievin’ Blackfeet, about two year ago. I have’nt clapped eyes on | her since, though I’ve looked high and low, and follered the red niggurs like a shadder. But I _ ha’n’t give it up yet; I'm goin’ down to the set. ments to git a new outfit, and start ag’in,” \ ECOMIEdOO cS ;