Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 241 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

12 ee Nee everything that could possibly remind you of Martin, the Swamp-Fox. ‘* But the sunshine could not last always, and the day came at last, when you were made to taste the reward of your crime. ‘“‘The river and the swamps below, were thickly infested with alligators that year, from some unknown cause which bad driven them up from their other haunts, You had many a fine day’s sport hunting and shuoting them, and if [ mistake not, on the very day to which I have now come, you were out with a jolly party of friends, thus enjoying yourself. ‘‘ Your sport was cut short by the faint sounds of the big bell which was rung only on un- usually urgent occasions, and you hastened home, though even then you did not dream of what a terrible shock awaited you. You found your wife in a swoon, your ser- vants distracted, and old Juno lying covered with blood, apparently at her last gasp, and it was a long time before any one there present, dared tell you the story. ‘‘ While you had been hunting the alligators far away, one of those creatures which had its lair close by, in the river, was turning the tables most thoroughly, by hunting your son and his nurse, ‘Tt had come unexpectedly upon them as they were lying, half asleep, near the river- bank, and had seized little Lucien before Juno comprehended the danger which threat- ened. She a up a stone which lay hard by, and bravely rushed to the rescue of her nurseling, pounding the huge brute over the eyes as it was making off with the child. The alligator dropped the boy, and caught her, tearing one arm nearly off, then dropped her, aan seizing the child and making off for go “This was the story Juno told, and the ghastly wounds she had received, caused you to Me icitly believe her words. ‘*'You searched for your child, but you only discovered a few torn and bloody fragments of its gro and at last you gave over in de- spair, mourning the loss of your beloved heir.” Pierre Debonay flung out one white hand passionately. ‘‘ Why do you recall all this? Man, or devil, what is your object? What do you hope to gain by reopening this wound?” “1 pagnt remind you that I am the son of Martin the Fox—that he solemnly swore me to avenge his wrongs, while dying—but instead, I tell you that old Juno lied; that Lucien was not devoured by that alligator!” CHAPTER IX. THE TEETH OF THE SWAMP-FOX. Prerre Desonay started from his seat with a} low, gasping cry, his pale, thin face almost convulsed, his outstretched hands trembling, his whole apenas that of a man who has with difficulty schooled himself to believe death a certainty, only to hear the glad cry of a re- rieve just as his feet are trembling on the rink of eternity. Only for a moment, however. Once more Fred Bloodgood overreached himself, thanks to the jeering, mocking devil that betrayed itself ina smile, just as the passionate query rose in the throat of the ranchero. A short, fierce struggle with his emotions, then the white face regained its wonted calm- ness, that wild lightin his eyes changed to a look of quiet scorn, and as though he had risen from his cbair for that pu alone, Pierre Debonay poured a slight 2 pms 5 of brandy into a fresh glass, and with it moistened his dry i MFor the first time since the curious interview began, Fred Bloodgood betrayed signs of irrita- tion, and the leer of taunting triumph left his black eyes as he saw how swiftly the ranchero recovered from what had been meant as a master-stroke in the bold game he was playing. ‘“‘T admire your nerve, old fellow, but it don’t speak very loudly for your paternal af- fection,” he muttered, with a short, ugly laugh. ‘* Why should your words affect me, more than any other empty, orem sound ?” coldly retorted the ranchero. ‘* You forget that you sit there a self-confessed scoundrel. As such I regard you; as such I am listening to this tissue of lies; and as such I will take great comfort in watching my servants kick you out of the house and off the plantation, as soon as the truce to which I weakly consented expires.” Almost as quickly as he had lost it, Blood- ood recovered his wonted assurance, and made e best of his temporary defeat, changing the disagreeable flow of the tide, and resuming the thread of his narrative. ‘“You and yours wasted a great deal of the briny on that melancholy occasion, which might as well have been saved, for though there is little doubt but that the alligator meant business, he did not satisfy his appetite on that occasion. Your son Lucien was not devoured; he did not die then and there, whatever may have happened afterward?!” ; He paused, with a keen glance into the face of the ranchero, but if he expected another ex- hibition of weakness, or to be plied with ques- tions, he was doomed to disappointment, ith Spitfire S bonay listened. ‘*Neither was old Martin, the Swamp-Fox, dead. For weeks he had been lurking around the plantation, watching for the chance to come when he might begin the series of blows with which he had sworn to avenge those you show- ered upon his back, that afternoon in the woods, He dared not burn powder, lest some oneshould | knife freely, gasbing the flesh nearly discover him and betray him to you, when he knew that you would have him hunted to death like a wil slimly, only for kind-hearted Juno, whom the old fellow bad passed many an idle hour with, in the days gone by. He knew he could trust her, and she proved her fidelity after a very substantial fashion, conveying him plenty of eatables and potables under cover of night—and her expansive dress. **Old Martin was slow, but sure. He be’ived he could not die until he had wiped out t! e bit- ter wrong you had done him, and so he bided his time, not quite certain in what shape his first stroke for revenge should be delivered. ‘* Chance—or fate—decided for him. He was close at hand when that alligator made its at- tack, and as he only saw that his modern raven was in peril, he rushed forward to beat off the reptile, only succeeding after the old woman was badly hurt. And not until the peril was passt, did he notice the whimpering little youngster, peel hidden beneath a _ bush, whither it had crawled, too terrified to cry aloud, “He no longer doubted what shape his first blow for vengeance was to take, and the long blade which was wet with the blood of the alli- gator, now sharply prieked the black throat of the wailing negress. She was already almost frightened to death by her great peri], and Mar- tin had little difficulty in extorting a solemn oath that she would never reveal more of the truth than he directed, for she knew him well enough to feel sure that he would drive the knife home in an instant, were she to hesitate. ‘*Never mind what he told her; you can guess something of it, remembering as you must, the story she told when you came back in answer to the alarm-bell. You never doubted her truth for her wounds were seemingly con- clusive evidence. Then, too, the fragments of your son’s clothing, blood-stained and bearing marks of what might well have been teeth, bore her out in the story she’ told, and Martin the Fox was too cunning and thorough a workman to leave behind him any tell-tale tracks. ‘* He, not the alligator, bore your son and heir away, plunging deep into the swamp, and living there for many days, slowly mapping out the trail he was to follow in the future, to make you drink deepest of sorrow and grief. All this time, he used the little lad as kindly as he knew how, often going hungry himself to give him a feast, showing great patience, for the child cried and worried constantly, missing his parents and home comforts, no doubt.” Again Bioodgood paused to pour out some more liquor, and to covertly watch his unwilling host; but though the face of Pierre Debonay was a shade whiter than usual, his thin lips a little more firmly compressed, there was naught else to show how bitterly each detail of that deliberately drawn picture cut his heart, Set- ting down his glass, the rascal added, in a tone of mock pamapeey ‘* Tt’s almost a shame to torture you after this fashion, but setting aside the oath of bitter vengeance which I swore, long years ago, itisa int of honor with me to give back blow for low, adding interest whenever I can conveni- ently do so. Youhave called me anything but a gentleman—you would have kicked me out of doors like a beggarly dog, if I had not kicked against that—” ‘‘ Which is a pleasure I have simply postponed for a few minutes,” coldly interpos the ranchero. ‘‘ When your .wind gives out, and you have come tothe end of this marvelous pa I'll give Pedro a chance to avenge him- Be ‘* And find yourself obliged to advertise for a complete retinue, in consequence!” sneered Bloodgood. ‘* Well, if you can stand the ressure, I’m sure I had ought to. But to usiness. ‘« At last Martin, the Swamp-Fox, fancied his plans for the future were thoroughly mapped out, and that same day he set out for a gang of his own sort, aremnant of the once notorious Pony Club; thieves, robbers and assassins, as you may remember, but which was then re- duced to a small party, the majority of them being men in whose veins Indian blood flowed ina ter or less degree. “He was nearing the rendezvous, when he was forced by the coming of night, to stop over in theswamp. He fed the child, and then they lay down to sleep close beside a little fire. ‘‘ Unfortunately for them, the heat drew a rattlesnake to the spot, and in its restless sleep, little Lucien rolled over against the reptile, and was bitten. Its cry awoke old Martin, and he was just in time to thrust the boy afide as the snake struck again, receiving the fangs in his own arm. “ Killing the snake he looked to the child first, fi aul, King of the Rustlers. a = an icy smile and scorn-curled lip, Pierre De- i... - - ee ee his lust for revenge being far greater than his love of life. He saw that the fangs bad sunk deeply into the Jad’s arm, and the white flesh around the twin punctures was already begin- ning to swell. ‘*He had no liquor with him, so he did the next best thing: twisting a stout thong tight] | around the arm, above the bite, then using his | to the bone, after which be covered the bleeding wound with powder, to which he applied a liv- wolf. He would have fared but | ing coal, holding the child firmly while the powder flashed and hissed, thoroughly searing the injury. ‘‘This done, he attended to his own hurt after the same rude, but effective fashion, then shoul- dered the subbing lad, and plunging through the night, by no means certain that the deadly poison was killed, and hoping to reach the ren- dezvous where he knew he would find friends, before his powers should fail him. ‘“Thanks to his iron nerve, he succeeded in this, though he was scarcely conscious of the fact, for many days afterward, for his delay in working to save the life of the child, almost proved fatal to himself. ‘‘ But Martin, the Swamp-Fox was not fated to die just then, nor after that fash, and both he and the lad recovered their strength in the course of time. While he lay ill, he hed an abundance of time for reflecting over bis line of revenge, and this is what his final conclusions amounted to: ‘“‘He would not kill the child. Instead, he would rear him among the outlaws, and m: ke him one of the worst among them all, He would teach him to forget the past, then instil] in his mind the bitterest hatred for you and yours—would raise bim as the instrument of his vengeance, at the same time keeping such a re- cord that there would be no difficulty in prov- ing his identity at any time. He believed he could make you the prime mover in bringing the child—the future man—to the foot of the preted and then he would strike his last, most itter blow, by proving the doomed man your long lost son. Poor devil!” with a mock sigh; ‘it’s a pity that such a beautiful and romantic scheme should come to naught—but such is life, and I came here to tell you the truth. ‘Less than a year after their arrivel at the rendezvous, nearly dead, a descent was made by the soldiers, and the’ Pony Club was fairly blotted out of existence, though a few of the band escaped by taking to the swamp; among them, old Martin. ‘“‘Y was with him, and it was not until all danger of pursuit was over, thaf the stern old man let me know thet he had received his death-wound before he took to flight. “Though he knew that death was stealing upon him, he made no moan for himself, his chief regret being the fear that the stolen child would be found by the soldiers and restored to its parents. And then, with his hands, growing colder, his voice gradually weakening, he bound me by the most solemn oaths to carry on his vengeance to the bitter end. I took the required vow, scarcely knowing to what I was pledging myself, for I am free to admit that I was a bit of a coward, in those days, and could only think how I was to get out of the scrape with a whole skin. Still, old Martin believed me, and died not altogether unhappy, coupling your name with a curse as the last flicker of life went out. ‘*T fled in hot haste. Where I went or how I managed to live during the next few weeks, I pao comprehend to this day. It is like some fearful nightmare, and you must excuse my dwelling on that point. “Of what followed I know little save through hearsay, for 1 fled far from the scenes of my childhood, gradually rising in life until 1 became a full-fledged gambler, rt, fire-eater and several other noble professions, which my modesty prevents me from naming in full, ‘‘That is sufficient of myself for the present; let me hark back to the old trail. ‘‘Old Martin must have trusted his schemes of vengeance to others than me, judging =. what happened not long after the Pony Clu was broken up, You can remember your losses by fire and poison. Day by day you grew poorer, and all the detectives you summoned to your aid could not solve the mystery or detect the cunning rascals who did their work so well. “You grew moody and spiteful in temper. You quarreled even with your wife, who had given you a daughter, instead of the son for whom you longed. At length there was an open row, and she left you to return to you no more, going to her father’s house. There wasa long contest over the ossession of the child which was terminated by the sudden death of your wife, Then all your old love returned, and you bitterly reproached yourself with having caused her death. d “What a pity that old Swamp-Fox died be- fore that day. It would have been a most deli- cious morsel for the grim old sinner!” laughed Bloodgood, with malicious emphasis, as he covertly watched the ranchero, fully expecting him to burst forth in anger. But he was foiled once more.. A trifle paler, if that were possible; no other sign did the strong man show. leat ~—_- eee ee ee pris + sae ra Y