Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 241 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

— —— 20 rapidly descending the winding trail, pushing her unnerved confederate before her, abruptly breaking off her incoherent speech as they came closer to the spot wkere the Rustlers were cover- mg mangled corpse of Buffalo Red from sigbt. ee A sharp whistle brought the grazing horse to her side, with a glad whinny, and leaping lightly into the saddle, she only paused to cry to the startled Rustlers: ‘Make haste and shorten your preparations as much as possible, then follow the lead of your newly-elected chief. I have told him what are my plans for the rescue of King Saul. He will pass the word to you—and by the memory | of your king and mine! I beseech you to forget | all personal fears, all likes and dislikes, all save | the extremity of our gallant chief, who so sorely | needs your tardest, boldest blows! If we cannot gave, we can and will avenge him!” While speaking, Queen Dixie was viciously ipa her snorting steed up the winding trail, the last words leaving her lips and floating back to the men below, who broke into a loud and enthusiastic shout, stirred to the core by that passionate appeal, the perfect sincerity of which not one among them all, save and except Lofty Dick, even thought of doubting. But Queen Dixie made no sign, if she heard the cry. She had reached the level, but there wrenched in her horse, looking like one suddenly stricken dumb by great surprise, as she leaned a little forward in the saddle, staring ahead as though at some wondrous vision. Only for a brief space. Then a wild scream escaped her lips. She turned partly around in the saddle, and waving one gauntleted band to the startled Rustlers in the sink, cried: *‘He’s here—alive—safe—our king!” Her spurs were driven deep into the heaving flanks of her horse, and she dashed forward at full speed toward the two horsemen, shouting shrilly, the very personification of an almost insane delight. And King Saul—for Queen Dixie was right, and it was indeed the King of the Rustlers, riding with Windy Jess, no longer Fred Bloodgood, the *‘tenderfoot ”—how did he meet ber? With open arms, and expressions of tender joy that fully equaled her own. _ While in prison, he had entertained many damning sus- } icions of treachery on the part of those whom he had until then trusted wholly and implicitly, prominent among whom was the beautiful yeoman in manly garb whom he now clasped to his broad bosom with a fervor that seemed to have driven all the blood from her face, on whose lips he pressed kisses so hot and burning that they apparertly sucked the red hue from Seo moist flesh, leaving them pale and ivid, But only for a brief space. It was not his embrace, not his scorching caresses that altered Queen Dixie, but the sudden reacting from al- most ag ee to reviving hope. True, in her maneuvering, she had ‘not for- gotten caution; in all her movements and plot- ting, she had kept in eon disguise, while striking none the less deadly blows at the heart of the man whom she had once loved as women seldom love in these days, but whom she now hated only less than she feared—the man whom she called husband, though the laws of neither ae. nor gospel had blessed or sanctioned the union. But she knew, too, how suspicious he was by nature; how keen of wit and clear of compre- hension, and she at first dreaded lest he had ained some inkling of the damning truth. If e had, she felt that his greeting would be like that of a maddened tiger; quite as sudden, full as deadly. Instead, he met her with burn- ing kisses, with endearing epithets instead of curses, exhibiting bis hot love without think- ing of Windy Jess being a smiling, sneering witness. Expecting death, she had rushed toward him, with a courage born of utter desperation. Re- ceiving love and life, she turned faint and trem- bliug in body; but that only increased the na- turalness of her acting. With eyes half-closed, supported in the sad- die by the powerful arm of the man whom she had so shamefully betrayed to what she be- lieved must prove certain death—against whom she was plotting, even then, her busy brain oceupied with anxious thoughts of Lofty Dick —Queen Dixie watched the eager rush of the Rustlers up from the desert sink, listened to their wild yells of extravagant glee as they ‘ crowded about the chief for whom they felt such a ule compound of love and fear, and bit her lip until it bled as she failed to see the form of Lofty Dick among them. Another than she noted this, and there was an ugly ring to the voice of King Saul as he de- manded: **I do not see either Lofty Dick or Buffalo Red among you; where are they? There has been no fighting? You have not been off on an foray? In the fiend’s name!” he cried, in sud- den heat, as the Rustlers shrunk away, inter- changing covert glances, each waiting for some other to make reply; ‘‘ what is the matter? Have Big all lost your tongues?” With a violent effort %f will, Queen Dixie / rallied her shaken energies, and softly whispered in his ear: ‘*Let me explain, Saul, my king; but not now. It’s a long story, to tell properly, so that you can see it all in just light—a sad tale, but one that casts no bitter blame on any of those who took part in it.” By this time, they bad reached the edge of the sink, and King Saul led the way down the curved trail, drawing rein as he gained the bot- tom, staring at the newly-formed grave, ‘* Who’s in that?” he muttered, his eyes filled with a red light that renewed the almost Julled suspicions of bis queen. ‘‘Some one has been killed. Tell me hisname, Not Lofty Dick?” ‘* Buffalo Red,” replied Queen Dixie, vainly striving to banish all unsteadiness from her tones, “And Lofty Dick killed him?” demanded King Saul, in quieter tones. ‘‘ They quarreled, what about? Ha! they fought to see which one should wear my shoes!” ‘‘Not that,” hurriedly replied Queen Dixie, traying too much anxiety for her own good, perhaps, in her endeavor to calm the excitable chief of the Rustlers. ‘' But the men demanded a man to lead them to your rescue—we were just starting out when I discovered you coming —and their choice was balanc2d evenly between the two; Lofty Dick and Buffalo Red, No man would alter his vote, and there was only the one thing to do, for your sake, Saul, since delay would be fatal, if the news brought us was true. They fought, and Buffalo Red was killed. It could not be avoided. With the men divided into two different cliques, nothing could be ac- complished—” **Did Lofty Dick hide beyond your skirts? Did he enlist you as a special pleader? Is he in biding, until you can make his peace with me, for killing the best and truest man in all the band?” cried King Saul, his eyes glowing redly. ‘*{ thought there was more of grit and pluck in the boy—” ‘Tf you think I am a coward, King Saul, ’m not fit to remain in the family,” said a cold, co pposed voice, and Lofty Dick benped for- ward, his hands empty, his blue eyes filled with a steady light as he confronted the chief. ‘* You have your pistols; use them, if you think me a coward. I give you a fair mark to shoot at!” and he threw open his richly embroidered jacket, tapping with one finger directly over his heart. A dazzling light shot into the lustrous orbs of Queen Dixie; a proud smile curled her red lip; her hand fell upon a pistol-butt, but she uttered not a word, made not a move to interpose be- tween the two men who confronted each other. Never, perhaps, in all his checkered, eventful career, had Spitfire Saul stood closer to the threshold of death than he did at that moment, for had he raised a hand against the life of the dandy Rustler, she whom he bad worn upon his bosom for years, would have sent her lead through his brain, even though she knew that the Rustlers would as surel slay her in turn. But the end was not fated to come after that fashion. King Saul seemed pleased by the bold front of the man whom he had so sternly arraigned, and tbe black frown changed to a smile, as he promptly uttered: “There speaks the Lofty Dick I have known so long! I ask your pardon, lad, for the doubts I expressed; but you can hardly blame me, when you reflect. Here I am, just back from the grave, as one might say, and of all the family, you hung back and had no word of wel-ome,” ‘* Because of that,” and Lofty Dick nodded toward the new-made grave. ‘‘I remembered how you trusted the poor fellow, and I feared you would give me more blame than I really deserve, killed him, but it was because there was no other way out of an unfortunate tangle, which might imperil your last chance of safety. In doing so, I pitted my life against his; he lost, I won; but if it is at the cost of your displeas- ure, I could heartily wish that fortune smiled on him, instead.” King Saul leaned forward in his saddle and Galiogn the hand of the dandy Rustler, with a fervor that almost crushed the bones, but said no more. Touching up his horse, with Queen Dixie, all smiles and tenderness, riding at his side, he made his way to the adobe building and alighted, They entered the building together, the Rustlers remaining outside, eagerly discussing between themselves the return of their idolize chief, wondering bow his escape from what had eppeeres certain death had been accom- lished. ste I reckon he'll tell us all we’ve any right to know, when he gits a good ready,” whined Brocky Bill, still whittling. ‘‘I want to know the hull thing, ’bout as bad as any 0’ ye, but I ain’t eetcbin’ so bad that I’d ax him to tell—not much !” ; : Of them all, Lofty Dick kept to himself, his handsome countenance clouded and moody. Bitter black thoughts racked his brain. To re- move this man from his path, he had plotted long and wickedly. He bad a double prize in view—the lovely wife of his chief, and the great store of gold and notes which he knew the ~ yx % —————$ ———— a Spitfire Saul, King of the Rustlers. King of the Rustlers had accumulated since entering upon his career of blood and rapine. Success, complete, without alloy, had seemed to reward bis schemes; but now—all looked dark and stormy. King Saul had returned to claim his own again. He was shrewd and keen-witted as he was unscrupulous and re- vengeful. What if he suspected the truth? What if he had learned something while a cap- tive, of the evil doings of his wife? If he had— if he entertained the slightest doubt of her fidelity, there was only one whom he could select as her confederate—himself. An hour passed, The sun was setting, and twilight was already settling down into the desert sink, when Queen Dixie emerged from the adobe accep ony and approached the fires around which the Rustlers were gathered, cook- ing their supper. Her white finger touched her lips as a shout of greeting welcomed her coming, and then she spoke hurriedly: “King Saul is sleeping just now. Keep quiet, and do not disturb him. He has known little rest since he fell into the hands of those brutal hounds, and needs all he can get now.” She moved toward the little pond, casting a swift, covert glance around her, as though in search of some one whom she as yet fatled to discover, and rightly guessing that he it was whom she sought, Lofty Dick joined her when the pineal by the lower end of the pond would sereen him from the view of the Rustlers arvund the camp-fires. ‘* Hist!” he whispered, before. rising from his covert: ‘* Do not be alarmed; itis onlyme. I fancied you wanted to see me.” ** So I did, but we must not waste time,” bur- riedly returned Queen Dixie, with a flurried glance toward the house. “I left him asleep, but he may awaken at any moment, and if he misses me, lis suspicions might be awakened again.” ‘* If you would only drive your dagger deep into his heart as he sleeps!” hissed Lofty Dick, his eyes glowing like those of an angry cat in the dark, as his arm stole around the lithe waist of the faithless woman, ‘* And have the men tear me limb from limb as payment? No, thank you, little one,” with a soft laugh that was almost a sigh, as she leaned her cheek against bis. ‘Tt will be no worse than what awaits us, if the ugly devil suspects the parts we have been playing, and I more than half-believe he knows all!” he said, gloomily. ‘* No—I don’t think that. If he had learned the whole truth, he would have crushed me to death instead of caressing me, when I met him out yonder. He would bave killed you, not clasped your hand. Whatever else he may be, King Saul is no hypocrite, no coward to smile in a man’s face, and then strike him in the back.” ‘** Bah! Lofty Dic **'You know better than that, Dick,” she said, simply. ‘‘ Itis true, though, that King Saul is a braver, better man than you are or ever will be. But that don’t change my heart. I hate him. I love you. That should satisfy you, dear.” “Nothing will ever satisfy me while he lives,” with a bitter curse that might well have blistered his lips. ‘‘ Untilthen, neither you nor I can draw a free breath, We don’t know at what moment his cursed hands may tighten upon our throats to choke out our lives as though we were vermin. He must die! You must realize that as well as I!” “True; but our time is not yet. We must throw dust in his eyes for the present, and wait for another opening. 1 came out here to warn you to be upon your guard, never for a mo- ment relax your vigilance. Throw off your black looks, and counterfeit the joy which all the other men feel. In short, act ouf your old self, as you were when we had no such danger- ous secrets to conceal. You can, if you will.” ** And you? You will play the loving wife, I suppose?’ ‘Better that than death—which would be our portion were I to falter now. Good-by!” and she kissed him on the lips, then glided away and re-entered the house. Half an hour later, King Saul emerged, and when the glad shout died away, he uttered words that were very welcome: ‘* Ho, for a frolic, my lads, in honor of your chief’s return!” CHAPTER XV. THE PIPE DANCE. LoupER, wilder rung out the cheers of the Rustlers, and King Saul watched their extrava- gant antics with an indulgent smile playing around his lips, curling his forked beard and drooping mustaches. Anything but a heartless demon looked he then, and no one, seeing him for the first time as he stood there in the ruddy glow of the camp-fires, would have imagined that he was the man whose ee Si temper and ungovernable passions bad bestowed upon him the title of Spitfire Saul. ‘* Good lads, one and all!” he cried, with an approving nod of his kingly head, as the out- your old love is returning!” sneered Cc "Eomicboo