Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 241 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

28 oa - -— ‘They are already provided for. Iam a bit of a Mormon, in theory; I mean to put their precepts into practice, now. I will seal myself to them both, and there's no power on either earth or in heaven to hinder me from—” ‘¢ You lie !” bissed a hoarse voice, and a slight figure darted out of the gloom and leaped upon the king of the Rustlers, ‘‘J’ll save them! Take that !” The red light shone ee a glancing blade, and with a siifled curse, King Saul went down | before the shock, his assailant stumbling and | only saving himself from falling by staggering | against the rock wall near the fire. A piercing scream from Lucille, as she leaped | to her feet and sprung toward the prostrate | outlaw—but she was too late to save the one who had so boldly dashed to their aid. King Saul jerked forth a revolver, and be- | fore the man who had overthrown him, could | make a move to defend bimself, the weapon spoke venomously, and with a gasping, gurgling Oh moan, he sunk down in a nerveless heap, bloo gusbing out from beneath bis left armpit. Rolling swiftly over, King Saul avoided the | rush of the frantic maiden, and 4 to his | feet, covered the bleeding form with his pistol. But he did not waste another shot. He saw that the bloody work was welldone. Not dead, but dying, the rash intruder was beyond doing | further mischief, “You, Kirke Bloodgood!” he exclaimed, in | surprise, then laughing maligantly: ‘‘I thought | I finished you back yonder, but it seems that I | was mistaken. You’ve got it now, and a good | job, too! Curse you for a traitor!” With a low moan of bitter grief, as he recog- nized, only to see fall bathed in blood, his son, Pierre Debonay staggered over to his side and lifted the drooping head in his arms. | ‘“Go slow, there!” grated Spi'fire Saul, his isto] covering the wounded youth. ‘Tl blow | his brains out, if you try to touch one of those weapons!” Striding forward, he tore off the belt of wea- | ns which Lucien Debonay wore, and hastily | elt his persou for hidden arms, then retreated, leaving them alone, to have the wound in his | shoulder attended to, and to quiet such alarm as might have been raised among his command, by the pistol-shot. Pale and ghastly, his grief too intense for either words or sobs, Pierre Debonay held the | wounded youth to his breast, vainly striving to | stanch the blood that welled from the bullet- | wound, Lucille and Ora crouched nigh, unable | to do aught, for even they could see that the case was hopeless. Lucien Debonay lay like one already dead, save for bis quick, fitful breathing, but after the passage of a few minutes his balf closed eyes opened, and with a faint smile playing | over his dark, bandsome features, he feebly ut- | ~ tered: ‘* Don’t grieve over me—I’m not worthy.” “My son—murdered—for us!” groaned the ranchero, “T tried tosave you, but I was a fool,” said the youth, his voice stronger and freer, a hectic flush coming into his cheeks. ‘‘I was mad—lf did not stop to think or reason. I could only remember that you were in deadly peril, and | when I saw that hell-hound—when | beard him uttering his foul threats, my brain seemed to | give way, and I thougbt only of ‘ki.ling him, to | save you, my—Lucille!”’ Tbere was a strange intensity in his gaze as | he looked at the weeping maiden whose name | he faintly pronounced. Sbe grasped his clammy | band, and he raised it to his lips, kissing it pas- | sionately. | “If that devil bad killed me re gr it | would have been better for me!” he cried, with | a sudden heat, dropping her hand and averting | bis face. ‘* Then you would have mourned over | me, and never recalled my memory save with | sad affection. If I could only die now, before | | could utter the damning truth—but I wowt! [| owe you that much. “Yam not your son—not your brother, Lu- | cille!” A faint moan from Pierre Debonay, but it was of pore grief, not of anger or rit ging He believed the brain of the dying youth was fail- ing bim as the sands ran lower. ‘You think I’m flighty,” said the youth, opening more calmly, but still with a remark- able strength and evenness for one so near death’s portals. “I’m not. Im telling the) ‘truth. My real name is Kirke Bloodgood. I Yam not the son you lost. That wasalla cun- | ning lie, for the purpose of gain. He set it going—my brotber. For years be bad it in view, and tutored me in the part I was to play. | If you believed the tale, and owned me as your son, we were to see that your will was made in | my favor, and then your death was to come ebou*. Just how, we never positively agreed.” | He paused, through exhaustion, and for some misutes. all was silence. Pierre Debonay was like one suddenly transformed to stone, He | could not believe that these words were true, | eonvince himself that the youth was lying, even | while dying. : Ora and Lucille, stunned, confused, listened | without the power of speech, terribly shocked ' Spitfire Saul, King of the R -—-- Ue OO by the strange and wholly unexpected revela- tion. ‘Until that day, I had never seen you, Lu- cille,” continued Kirke, more faintly. ‘** When I did, 1 felt for the first time a strong aversion to carry on the plot we had taken so much pains to concoct, I told brother so, but he would not listen. I was afraid of him, and sol floated on, every day rendering my punishment the more acute, for I learned to love you, Lucille | —not as a sister, but as the one woman in the entire world with whom I could be content to exist—as a wife !” A mocking laugh from the entrance to the cave-chamber, cut him short, and King Saul, his left sboulder freshly bandaged, stepped to the center of the apartment, sneering: ‘*So that solves the mystery of your disap- pearance, so abrup'ly that you could not stop to say good-by to your mates and fellow-cut- throats, my good lad!” ** Peace!” svernly cried Lucille, turning upon the outlaw, her dark eyes flashing indignantly. ‘“Heisdying. Mock him not, you coward!” King Saul, despite bis native audacity, shrunk back from her haughty reproof, and Kirke Bloodgood, his voice rapidly failing him, the flush leaving his cheeks, Geokente muttered. ‘It’s growing dark—something chokes me, so—it’s hard to talk. In my breast—a book—l wrote itall down. Read, and believe. I swear all true. Pity—forgive—Lucille—where are you? One word—one kiss—as forgive—” With a spasmodic effort he raised himself toa sitting posture, his arms outstretebed toward the maiden; but it was only an expiring effort. His arms dropped, his head fell back, a gush of blood burst through his lips, and the end had come. With all his sins upon his head, Kirke Blood- good had gone to face his Maker. ‘‘Quite a dramatic exit!” sneered Spitfire Seoul, as the three captives gathered closer | around the dead, whom they had learned to look upon as sonand brother. ‘I never gave the cub credit’ for so much wit, though he was _alwaysa tough little cuss when he came to a tight pinch. For;that, if for nothing else, he shall have aroyal burial. Oncea Rustler, always a Rustler—” ** You lie, King Saul!” cried a clear voice from bebind. ‘*I was a Rustler, but L bave re- formed, and become a Ranger!” With a snarling curse, Spitfire Saul whirled around, jerking forth a revolver, then staggered back, with a cry of horror. Before him stood the figure of Queen Dixie, the red light falling full upon her face and the leveled pistols she held! CHAPTER XXII. QUEEN DIXIE'S GRAND ROUND-UP. For one instant King Saul stood motiorless, with wildly staring eyes, believing he was look- ing upon the ghost of his former queen. In that brief space of time, be recalled that horri- ble scene—the corpse of Lofty Dick seated upon the throne, heretofore occupied only by bimself as King of the Rustlers; the robes wrapped around his bloody carcass, the gilf crown upon his head; the figure of the traitress queen be- side him, their heads together as in loving ca- ress. He saw all this, and mure. He remembered returning to the desert sink much earlier than he had intended, drawn thither by the red re- flection that told of a conflagration. He saw the building in ruins. He saw amid the coals and ashes, the headless, limbless trunk of what had once been a buman being, and beside it other bones, the remnant of what had once been bright and beautiful Queen Dixie. So be thought, then; so he had never seen cause for donbting, until now, He knew that he had left the lamps and can- dles burning, and naturally supposed that, by some accident, some of these had fallen and sct the building afire. But now—he saw that it was no ghost, but dangerous flesh and blood that confronted him, | and he threw his pistol hand forward, only to have the weapon fall from his nervous grasp, as a burst of flame tinged smoke came from the revolver clasped in Queen Dixie’s hand. A curse of rage and pain; then hé sought to use his left hand, but once mo‘e the pistol spoke, and both arms fell to his side, helpless, each one shattered at the elbow joint. He could scarcely realize this terrible truth, when athird jet of fire spouted out of the wo- man’s revolver, and his right leg failed beneath its weight, and he came to the floor with a sick- ening thud, ‘‘Ha! ha!” laughed the woman, her face con- vulsed with deep and bitter vengeance. ‘That is better fun than shooting at pipes, my gallant King Saul! You little thought when so care- fully training me to the use of your favorite weapon, that time would come when that very skill would prove fatal to you; when it would disarm and lay you at my feet, a helpless, mis- erable cripple!” ; A grating curse broke from his lips, and gath- ering all his remaining powers, Spitfire Saul leaped to his feet, and, though his right leg gave way beneath him, sprung toward the U stlers. ! taunting avenger, only to fall at her feet, howl- ] ald woe? ~ be ‘oO ing, cursing, blaspheming, soph | and biting at the hard floor with his teeth, his left knee shat- tered by Queen Dixie’s fourth bullet. **Nay, nay, my hosest feliow!” she laughed springing back as she fired the fourth shot, ‘I don’t doubt your affection in the least, but the time has gone by forever when I could submit myself to your gentle caresses. You must re- member that I belong to another, now. Did you not wed us and pronounce the blessing your- self? I’m nolonger your mistress—l’m the bride of Lofty Dick!” ‘‘ Curse you—curse you!” bowled the King of the Rustlers, trying in vain todrag himself near enough to seize her. ‘If Lonly bad your throat between my teeth—” ‘Your kiss would send me to paradise by lightning express, no doubt. All thesame, I pre- fer to remain upon earth yet a little longer—if only to witness your last dance—on air, at the end of a rope!” ‘‘ Hallo! this way, you bounds!” yelled King Saul, at the top of bis voice. ‘* Awake, jou in- fernal sleepers—” ‘* Hark!” cried Queen Dixie, as she Jeaped for- ward and brought her little boot down upon bis bleod-dripping lips with spiteful violence, then springing beck beyond reach and bending her ear in listening. ‘‘1f the hounds sleep, they’ll waken only in the other world, Spitfire Saul! Listen!” as the rapid report of firearms came rolling through the underground gallery. ‘* Those are my bull-dogs giving tongue. Rangers against Rustlers! Honest men against thieves anilassassins! And all brought about by a wo- man—by me, Spitfire Saul! 1 guided them here after vainly visiting my tomb—ha! ba!—at the old sink. I pledged my word that this night should see the death of King Saul and the total extermination of his bloody gang. I am keeping my oath. Three cheers for Queen Dixie’s grand round-up!” Laughing shrilly, she danced around the blood- covered form of the King of the Rustlers, taunt- ing him, mocking his bitter agony with words and gestures, seeming—what she certainly must have been, just then—some wild maniac, driven to frenzy by the ruthless deeds of this man. Speechless, terror-stricken, unable to fully comprebend the purport of this frightful scene, Lucille and Ora, tight clasped in each other’s arms, cowered back against the rock wall, watching the mad dancing of the woman in masculine g rb, trembling with the fear of her turning her insane rage upon them. Pierre Debonay saw, heard notting. He clasped the lifeless body of Kirke Bloodgood to his bosom, slowly rocking to and,iro, soft croon- ings issuing from his parched lips, For the time being he was back in the long-ago, soothing his tired child who had fallen asleep in his arms wearied ouf with play. The fierce firing without had ceased, but still Queen Dixie mocked the writhing, cursing, ira- potent wretch, as she danced around his bard and bloody couch, now darting near enough to tap his lips with her boot, now stocping to pluck bis beard, his curling locks, now covered with mingled dirt and blood; all the time boasting of the cunning ard complete msnner in which she bad betrayed him and his to the Rangers. Neither she nor either of the spellbound girls observed the dark form that crept into the edge of the fireligbt, coming from the passage which connected the cave chamber with the outer world. She realized nothing of her peril, unti! a spout of flame shot toward her, and a bullet crashed its way through ber heated brain. One gasping, gurgling moan, and then she fell acro s the form of the crippled Rustler, who vain! strove toseize and rend her, snarling and grow!l- ing like a wild beast. The slayer leaped forward and dragged her body beyond reach of the crippled chief, un- heeding bis cries, bis curses, holdimg ber head upon his knees, his voice trembling and broken as he uttered, with a mournful whine: > $M hed to do it, purty dear—so 1 did, now, ioney! It was ormighty hard, but I hed to, con’t ye see, little lady? It was in the oath— kill all traitors—you krow that, honev! An’I knowed it was you that sold us out, Fer me, I don’t keer a cuss. I'd jest shet my eyes an’ grin as I kicked the bucket. Put the boss—an’ the boys; you know thar was them, now don’t ye, honey? I couldn’t let you go, seein’ that! But it was turrible hard—most wonstrous hard —an’ me Jovin’ of ye wuss then ef you was my own kid—” ‘‘Help! you cursed, whining idiot!” snarled though the loss of blood was rapidly draining bis See ‘They’re coming—help, x ou hound, r Pi— Those were the lest words he ever uttered in this world. With a rush, the Rangers, led by Mark Boyd and Genteel Guy, filled the narrow tunnel, and hearing them, Brocky Bill raised his revolver to die fighting; but before it could come to a level, a bullet from Boyd’s pistol struck him between the eyes, killing him instantly. By a strange chance, bis suddenly contracting See hs PAT een Spitfire Saul, still fierce, still overbearing, fingers, discharged his pistol, and the bullet Se cea eR, ae _ tds il