Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 257 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

eT ee) ORR ae at “2 °/ 4 * *. - . ‘ . PW wo! * . ne ee ae od ‘ . i ;™ ~e. » . ms upon by that mad outburst of the hot-blo lover, that she felt not the strong arm as it drew her back from the brink, saw not the athletic form beside her, in her overpowering agitation even fancying that her convulsive struggles to free herself had precipitated Clay Benedict into the water chute. As he fell, the mad lover struck his head against one of the rocks which helped to form the many short, whirling eddies in the narrow channel, and though he was not more: J bereft of sensibility, his limbs seemed partially para- lyzed, his wonderful strength was gone, and a gasping ery broke from his lips. A single swift glance showed the rescuer the cole chance that remained, and dropping the form of the bhalf-unconscious woman to the ground, he acted without hesitation, darting to A projecting rock some yards below where the brief encounter bad taken place, kicking off his heavy rubber boots as he ran. ~ Not an instant too soon, with all his rapidity of action. ‘ Beaten and buffeted by the foaming, raging gripes <2 . i os a . A. a for she had been so terribly shaken and wrought | a death-grip, despite the tugging of the boiling oied waters which strove to tear him away. ‘‘Go bring aid!” he panted. ‘‘I can—do no more!” ———S ee | | ' She tore off her apron and flung one end to him. He could only catch it between his teeth, but it proved a valuable aid to bis retaining the vantage he had so gallantly won, Bracing herself against the strain, Bertha turned her face toward the camp, and cried aloud for aid, her voice rising bigh and shrill above the roaring of the waters, And almost immediately there came back the welcome re- ply, in the stentorian tones of Ralph Burnham as he rushed to the rescue, None too soon. Whatever the cause, the eddy had changed, and was now tugging with ter- _rible force at the twomen, and steel-like though his muscles were, Vernon Curtis knew that he could not have held out another five minutes, But thatewas more than ample time for the vetéran and those who came rushing close upon his footsteps, to grasp the stiffened arm and drag both men from the water. ‘‘How come it an’ who done it?’ cried Burn- waters—tossed from one rock to another—caught | ham, as the rescue was effected; but he did not here by a whirling eddy and detained for an in- | pause then for a reply. stant, only to be torn away again and burled onward, nearer to the frightful death which must inevitably follow a plunge over the end of the chute, down nearly two score feet to the jagged bowlders over which the element was ; Overcome by the terrible strain on both body and mind, Bertha fell at his feet in a swoon, and catching her up in his sturdy arms, the father hastened with her back to camp, leaving _his mates to care for the young miners. dashed toa feathery spray—through the race Whirled the barely conscious lover, unable to help himself, yet instinctively keeping his head above the surface, ever turning his face toward the bank from which he had been precipitated. Down even with the point of rock on which the figure of the man whose heavy fist bad hurled him into the water, crouched low, came the body, tossed and bandied back and forth by the merciless elements, and a sharp exclamation broke from the waiting man’s lips, as a swirl from the opposite side reached out and cangbt the body, whistit it around still further from its only chance of belnis saved. In that terrible crisis a gleam of light seemed to come to the clouded brain of Clay Benedict, and with it a portion of bis wonted strength. With a desperate effort be turned upon bis back, bringing his doubijed-up feet against the | bank, then straightened his lower limbs with all his vigor. Straight across the chute he shot, and caught | after 1 have spoken. by the eddy below the point of rocks, bis pro- | gress downward to certain destruction was once more checked, It was only a spasmodic effort, however, and was not followed up as would have been the case had he retained full possession of bis senses and bodily powers. Indeed, be could never ex- plain how he came to act as far as be had. Leaning .far over the water, clinging to the rock, the man strove to grasp the floating body. His fingers barely touched one shoulder, then, as though jealous lest it be robbed of its victim, the capricious eddy sucked the body back, turn- ing it slowly around, as though about to vomit it forth into the sweeping current once more. ‘Save him! My God! will no one come?” The wild appeal came from the lips of the al- most distracted girl above, still failing to realize precisely what had occurred, but it was suffi- cient, The moonlight saw that pale face become still more rigidly set, and resolved to accomplish her will, or perish with the man whom bis strong right arm had stricken low, Vernon Curtis leaped into the raging waters and clutched Benedict by an arm, with a death-grip. For a space, brief in duration, but an age in experience, the gallant fellow believed that the end had come for them both—that the current that tugged at their feet as he desperately fought to reach the point of rocks, must surely conquer and hurl them down to death aud destruction. Yet still he maintained his grip on the helpless man, holding his breath, grating his teeth until it seemed as though the enamel would split and crumble, fighting as only a strong, brave man can fight for life and against death. Bertha heard the devoted cry with which he answered her frenzied appeal, and caught a glimpse of his form as he Jeaped into the water, and came ome down to the point of rocks, kneeling there and outstretching her bands to- ward them. 2 The full moon shed its clear, silvery light around an’ over her, outlining ber figure against the rugged rocks, the white spray from the water dashing against the rock-point on its ah side, flying around ber like a mystic halo; just below her, barely out of reach of ber hands, the two men, one powerless to aid him- self, thou bh a conscious look was upon his face, the other bravely battling against such terrible oids—the whole forming a wild, veird tableau. “Pll save him—for you--or die, Bertba!” — in short pants from the lips of the young miner. ° , A furious, breathless struggle that ‘seen ed beyond the power of merely mortal man to make, then the gallant battle was won so far that Vernon Curtis grasped a point of the rock on which the woman knelt, clinging to it with i ; Bertha recovered her consciousness before the camp was reached, and dreading the conse- quences of her parent’s rage should he learn the whole truth of the sad affair, she gave him only vague replies, listening and watching for the return of the others to the valley, the moment she beard them, begging her father bring them both to the tent. Furious, anxious to learn just what bad led to so nearly a fatal result, the veteran obeyed her, finding Vernon Curtis quite himself again, while Clay Benedict, though pale and weak from the terrible experience he had undergone, needed only rest and a night’s sleep to be fully restored, Curtis promptly complied with the request, nor did Benedict hesitate, though a co!d sneer curled his pale lips. Bertha met Curtis at the entrance of the tent, and hurriedly whispered the warning, ‘* Not a word of what you heard or saw, until For my sake, Il beg you!” “I'd do more than that to please you, Miss Bertha,” he said, simply, but there was a look in his large eyes that caused the young woman to droop her eager gaze, and brought an omin- ous frown to the brow of Clay Benedict as he approached, ‘‘l’ye done your biddin’, little one,” said Burnham, a little impatiently. ‘‘The young fellers is here; though why you couldn’t tell a body how it all come about without—” As he spoke, Bertha glanced swiftly from one to the other of the young men, an anxious light in her blue eyes, but then, with a sort of desperation, she eut his speech short, speaking rapidly, her voice low but clear: ‘Tt was all a dreadful mistake, father, and I fear both you and I are most to blame for what has oceurred—thank Heaven it has proved no worse!” ‘* Me?” exclaimed the veteran, wonderingly. “Me to blame? An’ I settin’ down bere, smok- in’ my pipe when I hearn you fust holler out on top the dam?” ‘Listen, father—and you, gentlemen, I pray you suffer me to tell the story without inter- ruption. Believe me, ’twill be the shortest and the best way for us all.” . Vernon Curtis bowed in silence, but Clay Benedict made no sign, though his eyes were blazing redly, and his white face was bard and stern-set as death itself, Ralph Burnbam glanced from one to the other, a suspicion that all was not as it seemed on the surface, gradually beginning to shape itself in his brain, A stern expression replaced the puzzled look, and bis voice grew barder as @ said; “Ef thar’s bin any low-down play goin’ on here, the one that’s to blame hes got to answer fer it to me, mind that, now! An’ you, child, tell the story straight as it come about, without loppin’ off any corners to make it sound better.” ‘* Father, did I ever speak falsely to you?” “ Nothin’ wuss then white lies, an’ not even them, ef I hed to take my oath to it,” was the 4 Seah response, ‘“’Tain’t your lyin’ I’m afeard of, but that you'll try to smooth it over by keepin’ back part o’ the truth.” ‘Tll save Miss Burnham the trouble b Heer confessing the part I played in this little drama,” said Benedict. ‘* No—if you call yourself a gentleman, stop !” cried the young woman, starting to her feet with uplifted hand and powerfully agitated voice, *‘ Let me have my say—” ‘‘ Look here!” eried Burntam, both looks and voice full of menace, *‘ You two young rascals hain’t got to squabbling over my little gal, an’ chucked each other into the drink?. Ef. you bev, durned ef I don’t wade in an’ lick some stud-hoss sense into all two both o” ye—I willef I die for’t!” “Father, let me speak. Hear me through. I beg of you,” “Which I mought as well, fust as last, I s’pose,” he grunted, subsiding, but with a sus- picious look still upon his rugged countenance. ‘Go abead, an’ cut it as short as ye know how, 7 I'm kinder eetchin’ to spout a bit, My own self. ‘*Father, you have not forgotten the request I made of you, long ago? 1 mean about your letting our new friends know the truth—telling them our reasons for taking this trip?” , ‘*’Pears to me you’re goin’a monstrous long ways back to git at what happened only a hour ago. | , ‘‘Ttis necessary that I should,” said Bertha, her voice gaining. steadiness, ‘‘ You failed me the», and hence I say that for what has this evening occurred, you and [ are most to blame. | If you ad only spoken frankly, as ‘you usually “Didn’t I?’ exclaimed the’ veteran, ‘turn- ing to the young gold-diggers with an ‘in- jured air, as be added: . ‘* Leave: Tt*‘to you,’ lads, ef I didn’t speak out straight as a die—ef I didn’t tell you Both ‘that T’ wouldn’t hev no monkevin’ ’round ‘my gal, fer spews ‘sposed of fer goud an’ alim—now didn’t: , ‘*T don’t think you mentioned the fact of her being married, though,” quietly retorted Clay’ Benedict. Vernon Curtis uttered a sharp exclamation,’ and bis usually ruddy cheeks turned pale as death as he looked toward Bertha, like one seek-’ ing a contradiction there, but her eyes- eluded his, and there was a perceptible trembling ‘in’ her tones, - SEES RSA ‘““T believed you had told them all;'or niade your meaning so plain that there could be no’ room for mistakes, else ] wouid have matlé the’ revelation myself.” - YES CQ “* An’ so I did—or ef I didn't, whése busines was it, anyhow, outside of our own ‘selyes?’”’ growled the old miner. r31g% * ‘‘ It made this difference to one, at least,” said’ Benedict speaking rapidly. ‘‘ Under ‘the im-' ression that she was a single woman, free to be wooed and won by any honest man, 1 fell in’ love with her and asked her to ‘marry me, If that is a crime, make the most of it.” : ‘ Father, I beg of you—let me tell them ail,’ since it has come to this,” hurriedly cried ‘the roung woman, but Ralph Burnham would not silenced. | “*'You’re like all the rest 0’ the women; you cain’s putt a story into sbape without veerin’ an’ yawin’ all over the pints o’ the compass. You’ve wasted enough time an’ breath a’ready to tell the hull yarn twice over. Listen, vou. ‘When I lost the old lady—heaven rest ber soul—an’ only little Davy an’ this little gal was left to keep me from cuttin’ my throat or blow- in’ my brains out, mebbe I sot them both upa little too high—specially Berthy, here. ‘“ Anyhow, I couldn’t bear to see any young sprouts come prancin’ around in thar store dud an’ so I reckon I played the fool too fur, an snubbed them too sharp, fer one of ’em—a likely young feller, too, which I couldn’t say a vord ag inst ‘cept I didn’t want to give bim my little gal—tuck to runnin’ cunnin’, like, an’ fust I know, the trick was done, “One day he left fer Californy, to join a frind who hed struck a good thing an’ kep’a openin’ fer bim, ’cordin’ to "greement, an’ whew he was good an’ gone, Berthy come to me an’ ive me a letter which he'd writ afore he left. n it he tole me that he loved the little gal too monstrous bad fer to give her up, even when her pap said he should, while he thought too much of us both to coax her to run away with him, afore he hed enough money laid by to keep her like a leddy. An’ so, as the best thing they could do, he married her that very mornin’ jest afore he tuck the train.” ‘* A distinction without a difference!” sneered . Benedict. “Ef the gal is satisfied, an’ I don’t kick, I don’t reckon it need trouble you,” bluntly re- torted Burnham, | | ‘*That was two yearago. The lad kept us posted as to his doin’s, an’ when I found how white be writ, an’ how well he was gettin’ along —fer you kin be sure I didn’t take his own say - so altogether, but made inquiries from them that vould tell me the squar’ facts—I sorter simr ced dowpr, an’ efore long got so I really bil eI though nigh as much o’ him as bis own w . did, ‘Waal, after a powerful sight o’ thinkin’, I wade up my mind Id teke the litile gal out to see her old man, an’ to give him a kind o’ ‘’prise-party, we started without sendin’ him seek oO’ our comin’. As fer the rest, you know all. | “ Except one thing,” added Bertha, her cheeks flushing vividly as she spoke hurriedly. ‘* Only the minister who married us, besides we three knew that—that it bad happened. We kept secret, to avoid having to auswer questions and __ satisfy the curious. I never regretted that secrecy until this evening. I thought father bad made al] plain to y u, else my conduct should have been more rese. ved, more—” ‘You have nothing for which to blame your i=? = » ne. ~~ - = eee Eomicbooks CO ty ¥ * %, > tah, , oy = .*~ Peas é = is: -