Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 245 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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12 lieves he is about to marry again and bring his wife to Comet Camp as his daughter—in which case she must be young. Why all this secrecy? Vivian thinks he fears some one—fears to ac- knowledge his wife. Why? Clearly, Mr. Brown has a secret, and I'll let my detectives find it out. Iam positive that in some way [ shall rake in a big handful of the Brown gold, If { can’t marry Vivian, I'll blackmail old Brown!” Horace laughed lightly and then rubbed his hands together caressingly. ‘I’m in the midst of another first-class in- trigue, and though an ordinary man would give it up as a bad job, I intend to score a success, I think I have closed the girl’s mouth, and I must hoodwink Bill by some sleight-of-hand trick, I suppose it isn’t just right to play the roots on him after he has given me shelter in my hour of need, but I have never subdued the hatred I had for him in our childhood.” The ungrateful brother scowled darkly. “T reckon I can put this resemblance to some ee good,” hesaid. ‘TI reckon I might go the mine and draw his salary and no one dis- cover the cheat until he showed up himself, Bah! Vl let such one-horse games alone; I'll play for the biggest stake and rake in the rown dollars. lam to meet the fair Vivian frequently, and if I don’t make her love me, I amafool. Believing me to be the immaculate Barranca Bill, she will start well, and from re- spect to love the road is smooth and straight. eu to one I win the game!” And then Horace lighted a pipe and lay back in his chair to smoke and reflect, untroubled by 7 reflections that he had done what might yet bring Barranca Bill into serious difficulty. Judging from circumstances, it would have been far better for the latter had he allowed the men of Ramrod Bar to take vengeance on * Paul Pindar.” CHAPTER XV, IN THE TOILS. We left Helen Neville just as, after being jured into the Weeping Willows by Hecate, the door was closed in her face by the latter. Explanations were not needed after that; Helen knew she had fallen into a trap and was in great peril, though its precise nature was un- known to her. For a time she had clung to the Witch because she was a woman—a sex not plentifully represented in Comet Camp—but with the tearing away of the vail came the darkest despair. When one woman stoops so low as to betray another, to lead her to aden like the Weepin Willows, she must be indeed a degrad wretch, Tired at last of beating at the door which ielded not a fraction to her efforts, and with er delicate hands bruised in more than one place, Helen turned to survey the room more closely. It was of medium size, but no more could be said in its favor. Its uncarpeted floor was black with dirt, the walls showed a multitude of finger-marks, the furniture consisted of a single chair and a rude bed, while the clothing on the latter must necessarily look back far into the dim past for the date when they were last washed. ; There was no window, but over the door a perforated iron plate, set in the wall, afforded @ trifle of ventilation for the miserable den. It was no wonder that, after a brief survey, Helen dropped into the single chair and gave way totemporary despair. Hers was a brave nature, but she had been reared among scenes so different from Comet Camp, and so seldom called upon to exhibit her courage, that this danger overwhelmed her. Clearly enough she saw how completely she “was in the power of the old woman, and she ‘felt that she could e ro merey. She blamed herself for having been lured to the den, oh ag 3 what had been her mental con- dition when Hecate was playing her part. Anon, her courage returned somewhat, and she arose and made a closer examination of the room. It merely served to increase her fears. The room had doubtless been intended for a prison, for the boards were thick and heav along the floor and walls, and firmly spiked, and the door was like that of a dungeon. Without an ax, or something of the kind, even a strong man could not force his way out. _ Helen resumed her seat, but her face was no ote pale, A flush had arisen to her cheeks and her eyes sparkled with light which told of a re e it would not be well to dare. n her pocket was a revolver which held six reliable cartridges, and she resolved to defend herself = Sele whoever intruded upon her. She had slept two hours immediately after her arrival at Comet Camp, and there seemed fo be no reason why she should not remain awake during the rest of the night. Her vigil was interrupted at the end of two hours, however, for the clicking of a key was followed by the opening of a door and Hecate re-entered. Helen kept her seat, and, with her hand on her revolver, looked defiantly at the old Witch, a Barranca Bill, the TERE —— ee EE SL | The latter, who bore ber staff, as usual, put out one band with the palm forward, as though as a sign of peace. ‘Have no fear, my pretty lady,” she croaked with her wretched imitation of kindliness, “ft come as a friend.” ‘¢ Jailers usually are friends,” retorted Helen. ** Sailers?” . tate a cael af ¢ ope you 90 regard me. 303 Don't. allow your hopes to run away with you; [am nota child, andI prefer to talk as woman to woman. Iam your prisoner. What do you intend to do with me?” ‘*My poor dearie,” said Hecate, with an at- tempt at horror, ‘‘ you are entirely wrong. I am your best friend in Comet Camp, and Ill stand bY 3 tothe end, You are nota pris- orer; i brought you here by stratagem, it was to foil the mob, whose fury you little know.” ‘‘T suppose it was for that reason you locked me in this room?” ‘‘ Ah! you misjudged me then, dearie, and as I had no time to explain, I went away bastily.” Helen laughed harshly, for Comet Camp was teaching her new lessons of buman depravity and changing her entire nature. ‘‘'You are an adept in all you undertake, ex- cept your role of an honest woman. Have done with this mockery and tell me my fate.” ‘‘Agam you wrong me, dearie, but I will sketch your situation, as I see it. You came to Comet Campin search of your mUpA vey band, this Barranca Bill, at whose feet all town kneels as though he werea god. He re- fuses toown you, and by the burning of the Cosey Corral, all your baggage and money are destroyed. Now, what will youdo? You are a stranger here, and humanity isa lost art to these men who worship Nevada’s silver mines. What will you do—what can youdo? Delicate as you are, you will alone be like a babe in the wood. Can you work in the mines? No, you are quite helpless.” ‘‘Go on,” said Helen, rey = sa here, I stretch forth my hand to aid ou. am a woman, like yourself, and m eart is tender. Hear mad offer: I keep a } “tel, a respectable place which can’t be excelled in Nevada. I need a girl to help me entertain my lg a to talk to them; oh! no, for I be- eve in keeping them at a distance; but, exiled hus- this from the East and its pleasures, they sigh for music, for the old songs of home, sweet home, to which their memories cling even yet. Now, my dearie, if you will sit in my parlor of an evening and sing the sweet eld ballads, I will not only pay you well, but I faithfully agree to aid you to bring your false husband to justice. Vl touch his heart and unite your future lives in-a halo of peace, love and happiness,” Hecate had gushed even more than usual, but she could never regain her hold upon Helen. The latter read her evil nature well, and she made a gesture of loathing. ‘‘ Let us end this scene right here,” she curtly said. ‘* You and I are enemies, and in no other light willl regard you. I will not sing to your guests who so adore the ‘sweet old ballads,’ I am not a tiger-tamer. I do not believe the Cosey Corral is burned; but, if so, Pll take m chances with the rude miners rather than wit ou. f Hecate was filled with fury, but her wrinkled face was a good mask and she gave no sign as she lifted her hands and whined: ‘* My poor dearie! my poor dearie!” ‘“ Rubbish!” said Helen. ‘I wish you would abandon sentiment, and, as the miners say, give us a new deal,’ The Witch did not at fixed on vacancy she seemed deep in thought. Helen was tempted to try to pass her ata hazards, but the faint sound of coarse voices outside warned her that she might go from bad to worse, The pause was broken as the door was again flung open, this time nearly upsetting Hecate, and Luke Gridley strode into the room, There was a triumphant smile on his evil face, but it gave place to a look of undisguised admi- ration as he looked at Helen. He removed his hat and bowed low. ‘“« Your humble servant, miss,” he uttered, Hecate caught his arm and began shaking him angrily. ‘How dared you come here?’ she demanded shrilly. ‘‘I am tempted to crack your skull with my staff, you idiot!” ‘“Don’t do it, my dear madam, don’t. My skull is not a walnut; don’t crack it. But wh: do you blame me? Have I no taste for beauty?” He bowed once more to Helen, but she felt a terrible fear which she could ill disguise. Luke Gridley, with his low brows, furtive eyes and thick lips, was more easily read than Hecate, and, together, they made a pair not unlike cobras di capello, The Witch accepted the situation with as good grace as possible, though she knew that from that moment her trouble with Helen would in- crease. Luke had seen her, and the light in his ambushed eyes told how much he admired. Yet clinging fast tou the plan she had formed the old woman mentally swore she would With her eyes Revolver Champion. ef prowene her prisoner even at the risk of her life, As we have already seen, this was for business reasons, not from any kindness of heart. **'You are an idiot, young man,” she brusque- vf said. ‘*Go back to your studio; that aub, which you call ‘The Sunset Hour among the Sierras,’ will never be finished at this rate, enough to temporize, ‘* You have no artistic feeling at all, my dear madam,” he said gayly. ‘* That painting wilt bring me many golden dollars in New York— unless I see fit to present it to the Art Mu- seum,” ‘* While making your decision, I beg that you waa me alone,” interrupted Helen. ‘* Good- night. ‘* Good-night, dearie,” replied Hecate, with AP re voice. ‘‘May your sleep be peace- ul. She pushed Luke toward the door, unheed- ing Helen’s bitter laugh, but the sight of the open way proved too much for the prisoner’s calmness. Acting on. a sudden rash impulse, she darted forward, sumed Hecate so forcibly to one side that she lost her balance and fell, and then gliding past Gridley, she ran along the passage at full speed, looking eagerly for some avenue of escape. CHAPTER XVI. THE LAMBS OF THE WEEPING WILLOWS. Ir Helen had taken time for mature thought, it is doubtful if she would have made her at- tempt under the very eyes of Hecate; but once clear of the room, she began to have some hope and her gaze eagerly sought an avenue of escape. She was in a long, narrow hall, from which doors opened on both sides; but all were closed. She made a rush for the nearest and it yielded to her touch, but the room beyond was merely a sleeping chamber like the one she had just. eft. Bo ffled, she turned just in time to thrust the muzzle of her revolver toward the Witch, who had darted after her. ‘‘ Back!” cried the girl, ee eae ** Keep away, or I swear that I will fire!” Hecate had paused abruptly, duly regardful of her danger; but she put up her hands with the old gesture, ‘Now, dearie,” she began whiningly; but at that moment the crack of a revolver turned to thunder in the close room, and Helen’s own weapon went spinning from her hand. It fell a few feet away, and as Hecate prompt- ly pounced upon it, Helen stood defenseless Be. fure her enemies. Her hand, strangely numbed, had dropped to her side, and as she saw Luke Gridley putting away a revolver in bis belt, she knew he had accomplished the feat of shooting hers from her hand. The act rendered her belpless. ‘‘ Now, my dearie,” remonstrated Hecate, as she made sure of the revolver, ‘‘ you should not be so rash. Do you not know that we are your best friends? I could call you ungrateful for putting my life in jeopardy, but I know that youth is often indiscreet.” ‘Ror my own part,” said Gridley, once more removing his hat as he advanced, “I humbly beg your pardov for my act. Perhaps it was unpardonable, but I feared you would do that for which you would be sorry afterward.” Helen did not answer. She stood panting before them like a deer after the chase, and in ber eyes was a look not unlike that of that same anima!. At that moment she would have wel- comed death, but even the means of self-destruc- tion had been taken from her, Once more Hecate addressed her, but as there was no answer, she ruminated for a moment and then suddenly laid her hand on the girl’s m. ‘Come with me, dearie,” she said. ‘‘What now? Helen asked, hoarsely. **T will convince you that Tam your friend even though I have to take you to the ashes of the Cosey Corral,” the old Witeh declared. A gleam of hope crossed Helen’s face, but it speedily vanished. She would as soon trust the Evil One as this woman. She made no reply however, fora sort of leaden feeling seemed creeping over her and she thought, with fresh despair, that if the outer door stood open she could not drag her feet over the threshold. Yet, when Hecate took her arm, sbe followed her lead like one in a dream end they passed toward the other end of the hall. A scowl crossed Luke Gridley’s face, and he lucked at the Witch’s arm, but she cast off his old and pressed forward, : Opening the door she led Helen into another, but smaller hall, and then, throwing bock another door, ushered her into a place, the minutest details of which lingered long in tho memory of the girl. It was a square room of considerable size, wi*\s benches, tables and chairs of a rough sty unlike the barroom into which Barranca Gridley caught her meaning, and was wise » (é cS. Ecomicboo EO } P ites . r nt . J * Mi ad ” bs ‘ ) 4 _) hPa S,