Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 239 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

f —_—- a eee a The Terrible Trio. ES He had now, however, to bis great relief, tier red hellyun hain’t got a six-shooter an’ a convincing proof that Lionel lived. He felt, too, like another man, since be had discovered the haunt of Blackbird. Had the old scout forded the Concho and elimbed a tree on the border of the timber on the northern side of the river, he would have been able to see a terrible sight, far out in the great dog-town—a sight that would have put an end to his further advance up-stream—for the very man who ruled his mind was then and there being tortured. The old scout could not have recognized Lionel at such a distance; but he would, never- theless, have spurred at headlong speed to save any white man, and besides he would soon have fixed, from the trail, the man’s identity. But this was not to be. The young planter | | | bowie-knife onter him!” The horse sniffed the air toward the corpse, and then shook its head in seeming disgust, which caused Single-Eye to shake with sup- pressed Jaughter. ‘Dang my cats, Skip! I b’lieve yer does bate a’Pache ’bout equil ter yer oie master, an’ I doesn’t blame yer; but kinder skute down ter ther driak now, an’ I'll ‘zamine things "bout ther ford. I must see what sort 0’ ‘sign’ air layin’ 'roun’ loose on ther trail this side, an’ then we’ll levant,” With these words to his horse, the old scout strode from the bushes into the stage-road, where he discovered plain ‘‘sign,” and enough to fill him with horror and apprehension, No sooner did he step into the road than he was fated to suffer this untold agony; and he | knew that a large war-party of Indians had longing at the same time to rescue Winnie Warrington, and failing in that, praying earn- estly for death. On went Single-Eye, without the guardian angel of Lionel Lacrosse having fluttered in his face and swerved him from his course over the Concho, toward the north, to cut loose that strong man from the agony that racked his iron frame, and caused him to question the justice of his Creator. It was midnight when Single-Eye reached the vicinity of the ford. He was too experi- enced a prairie-man to approach a crossing- place at a stream on the frontier, other than in a stealthy manner, Consequently, he left Skip-lively nibbling daintily at the buds and green twigs, forget- ting not his usual muttered admonitions of caution, and approached, in a cat-like manner, the ford. A very slight movement in bis front warned the old scout that something living, beast or human, was in his path. Drawing his huge bowie, and holding the blade between his teeth, Single-Eye dropped noiselessly upon his hands and knees, and crept toward a large tree between himself aud the point whence the thing, whatever it might be, had betrayed its presence. Upon reaching the tree, he arose to his feet, and peeped cautiously toward the ford. but recently been there; also a Government ambulance, which had crossed the Concho coming from the north. This last he soon saw, up the trail, the dead mules still] in bar- ness, ‘From the fact that the vehicle had not been burned, the scout knew that the Indians had feared an advance of troops from Camp Jobn- ston. Several small shreds of silk, with a bow of ribbon, and a tiny five-pointed gold star with a diamond in its center, were picked up by Single-Eye, indicating that a woman had been dragged from the ambulance over the dead mules, her dress catching and tearing on the iron-work, A strip of gold braid, also, was pulled by the old scout from a cross-piece in the side of the ambulance. These showed plainly that an officer and a lady had been captured, and that probably their escort had been murdered by the Apaches, who had ambushed them at the ford. The slain soldiers, some of whosé bodies had been washed upon shallow banks, now lay in plain view, down-stream, horribly mutilated; which, when the old scout perceived, he re- gretted greatly that he had not arrived in time to take a part in the conflict. It was a difficult matter now to decide where the young planter could be. Lionel had not He had now a clear view of the silvery | been killed; for, if so, his body would be found waters of the Concho, here gliding eastward, The old scout, of a sudden, was forced to dodge his head behind the tree, and close his solitary optic, pressing his finger hard upon the lid; tor the bright waters blinded him, and rendered it impossible for him to scan the darker shades near at hand. Pulling bis sombrero brim down, as a shield to his eye, he shot glances about the edge of the bank toward the ford; and his appreben- sions for the safety of Lionel were now in- creased, for not ten paces from bis position, sat a hideous Apache brave, watching the trails down into the ford on both sides, as if | expecting the arrival of an enemy. Single- | Kye’s mind was made up. The Apache must die! This brave bad been left, or sent, to watch the ford, his position showing that he was alone, or he would not be forced to jerk his bead from one point to the other to view the trail on either side. The back of the Indian was toward the scout, which was a great advantage. Single- Eye made but two bounds from the tree- truvk. Quickly grasping the hair of the brave in bis left hand, he jerked the same backward. The wide-open mouch strove to give out a yell, but the unnatural position prevented it. Only for an instant flashed the black eyes into that of his foe; then the blade of the scout was buried to the hilt in the broad, painted breast, High in air sprung the Apache, bis terrible death-howl forced back by the old scout, who thrust the brim of his sombrero into the red- skin’s mouth, and then quickly jerked out the bowie. | eee _ EEO Oe on the south bank, the scene of the most hotly contested part of the fight. If not captured, Single Eye reasoned, Lionel would have gone to the station for assistance, and followed the Apaches. This was plainly evident, therefore. The young ranchero was either dead, or, a captive. If dead, he would find his body in the morn- ing, as if might have been thrown into the stream. Being on the north bank of the Concho, the scout determined to ascertain if the war-party had followed the road to the timber edge, and then turned west over the plain. He therefore galloped away from the ford, through the bottom, when, as he cleared the wood, and the moon illuminated the trail, fresh “sign,” that had been left since the ambu- lance and escort bad passed toward the ford, caught his eye. Springing to the earth, he examined every footprint, giving an exclamation of extreme angtish and apprehension. There could be no mistake, It was as plain as a printed book. Lionel Lacrosse was a captive! He was being forced along; his heel-prints showing that he had held back while thus a 2 eee eee dragged; he had, in the midst of a horde of | Apaches, passed from the ford, through the | timber, and along the road toward the north, until the open plain was reached. Then, on leaving the trail, over the prairie to the east, they had gone, toward the great dog-town between the Concho and the Colorado. Quickly the old scout unbuckled the weapons that be had taken from the Indian he had slain, and examined them. It was the revol- There was but a shor} struggle, followed by | vers and bowie of Lionel Lacrosse; and the a heavy fall, and then a grunt of exultation | hand of Single-Eye trembled, as he held them from Single-Eye. By a dexterous slash or two, anda strong pull, the reeking scalp was torn from the bead of the dead brave; and the oid scout, feeling confident that no more red spies were near the ford, gave a low whistle, his signal to Skip-lively, and the horse soon approached the tree stealthily. ‘* Tbar’s another condemned skunk of a *Pache tuck a lively skute ter Injun kingdom eome, Skip. Chalk another fer Single-Eye— red chalk, remember thet. Dang my cats ef up to the moonlight, and recognized the orva- mental work. The scout knew, as well as if he had been there and seen them, the manner and move- ments of the party. He also knew that the Apaches had dragged the young ranchero thus, to condemn him toa | lingering death, and that in some manner un- known—yes, beyoud his conception. Know- ing this, be suffered great torture himself; the moments seeming heurs, as be crouched in the eee ar woods, with Skip-lively by his side, waiting for the dawn to light him on the trail, over the dry and grass grown plain. But he bad little hope of ever seeing Lionel Lacrosse alive. a CHAPTER XVII. OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH. DooMeED to die ten thousand deaths—doomed, in the strength end pride of young manhood, to suffer the tortures of the lost, while yet on earth! Bound like a dog, his iron frame and sinews of steel weakening by degrees; upheld only by raw-hide ropes that cut into his flesh, causing his bands to become benumbed, and as devoid of sense and feeling as if amputated. His tongue was swollen, bis lips parched with terrible thirst, and an insane longing for the far-away serpentine line of dark-green, that he knows screens the cool, rolling waters of the Rio Concho, The dread night has passed, and Lionel La- crosse still clings to life. Tt had been a night to cause one’s hair to turn to gray. A night, the memory of which would be ever stamped upon bis brain, should he live through it, and by some miraculous means be rescued from his awful position. Deserted by God and man! Left bound by demons in the shape of men, devoid of all mercy—all humanity! His brain, tortured by the consciousness that the angelic being whom he loved more than life, and who previous to his being plunged iuto this torture had transported him to the seventh heaven of delight by confessing her interest and faith in bim—yes, he has been filled with the frenzy of madness to know that sbe is in the power of the demons who have bound him thus! The coyotes have yelled their noisy concert, and be bas expected the black wolf’s howl— bas looked for the long fangs of this dread beast to tear his limbs. But the night has passed, and long and horrible as it bas been, be regrets that it has gone. The blazing sun, now risen, sboots its hot rays into bis very soul, causing his brain to seem like molten lead swimming within his bursting skull, He feels what seems the hot breath cf flames upon his cheek, and be seems to bear’the rip- pling splash of waters over a noisy brook-bed; while the scent of flowers that bloom at his childhood’s home on the Salado are filling the hezy atmosphere, only to increase his agony ten-fold when realities return, “Can it be? Ob, my God! that Thou hast forsaken me?” The words seem bardly human in intonation, gurglingly, chokingly, as they come forth. A, In hopeless anguish, the eyes drop; the strong frame quivers; tbe lids, heretofore rigid, droop over the glaring eyeballs that mirror the agonized, suffering soul, that secms struggling to leave the body. Life and death are in most flerce conflict, the Jatter seeming to conquer; for, listless, the head falls forward, the body that writhed and contorted in agony, ceased to move, the eyes that sought to pierce the sky and seek the mercy denied on earth quietly cl sed. Out from the tens of thousands of holes the prairie-dogs bave crawled, long ere thesun has streaked the east with gray, to crop the dew- laden grass, and as the day dawned and reveal- ed the strange object in their town, one after an- other they have darted back, with barks of alarm, into the earth. | As the sun rises higher and the air becomes hotter, slowly out from the marmot holes, the repulsive rattlesnakes draw their length along, lying outstretched, of all sizes and ages, need- ing but a sound foreign to the town to coil for see spring, their horrible rattle filling the air. And thus hangs Lionel Lacrosse, among the swarming myriads of owls, snakes, rabbits and marmots, his senses fo¥ the time baving provi- dentially left him, Will he again awaken to consciousness? Awaken to suffer ten times more excruciat- ing anguish; awaken to pray for death, his in- tense sufferings banishing all thoughts of every- thing else on earth, even of Winnie Warring- ton? Far better that bis breath should leave him now than that be should awaken again to sce the soaring red-jowled buzzards, high up in the brazen sky, waiting for his dissolution—turn- Eomilcbooks Geom