Beadle's Dime Library No. 258 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

4 opened, and Mr. Bartlett, himself, became dimly visible, though no light was anywhere visible. The rich man breathed as though he had been making haste in some way, but that he expected this strange procession was proved by the way in which he step back for them to enter and then closed the door. ‘Let us lose no more time,” he hurriedly said, when this was accomplished. ‘‘He may be missed from the hotel and his absence in- quired into. Follow me to the vault!” Without waiting a reply he led the way and they soon stood over the place we have pre- viously seen made by hisorders. The Chinamen deposited their burden on the floor while they opened the mouth of the vault and it suddenl moved and made a gurgling sound, as thou b trying to speak through the impediment of a gag. a Don’t trouble yourself, Mr. Belford,” said Bartlett, coldly, “I'll imagine you have spoken and let it go at that.” The prisoner could not answer, and his few awkward struggles were soon ended as the Chinamen lif and coolly dropped him into the vault, indifferent to the fact that a con- siderable descent awaited him, and that the floor below was of rock-like hardness. ** Enough!” said Bartlett, exultantly. ‘‘ The vault will now fulfill its mission and its two occupants will starve together—unless number two is already killed by the fall. Close the door and, from to-day, forget that it is here, Remember all directions I have given you and beware of telling tales. You may go!” They had passed the door, and as he followed his tools through he locked it behind him. In his mind he had decided that that portion of his house should not again be opened for a year. By that time— AA e rts he ss ers, put the key in bis pocket and went to his room. On the table la a wig and false beard which Kidder, the land- re Se mr probably have recognized as belong- ing to the third aides of the coach—be who had ressed a fear of Bullet Head. ett took these articles and, going to the stove, thrust them inside and saw them fall to nothing in the grasp of the flames. **So ends this little affair,” he commented. “In the moore Kidder will be surprised to find that two of his lodgers have mysteriously disappeared, but I don’t believe either of them will ever be beard of again. One has gone into this stove, and the other into the vault. Ha! ha! my good friend, Belford, little suspected the identity of his companion on the road.” Not much longer did the rich man remain astir but, seeking his bed, he was soon sleeping as peacefully as though the iron vault did not hold the evidence of a terrible double crime and —a mystery. And in the morning no one appeared more in- nocent than he when he heard of the disap- pearances from Kidder’s Hotel. The matter was not regarded as strange by any one: All three of the stage- ngers bad vanished, and though Mr. Bartlett was wholly ignorant of the whereabouts of the gentleman who looked like a minister, it was very easy for the land- lord to decide that the three had been in collu- plot to cheat him of his sion in an infamous dues. Accepting this view, no one suspected foul play. CHAPTER III. THE PRISONERS OF THE VAULT. BARTLETT had spoken truly when he said that the fall endured by his prisoner might have re- sulted fatally, for the distance was such that the chances were decidedly inst him; but luck, or something else, was in his favor. He struck squarely on his feet, and though he lost his balance, bound as he was, and fell to the floor, he was wholly uninjured and at once gained a sitting position. His jaws bad been freed from the gag by the shock. When he was thrown down he had believed he was to be thrown into an ordinary well, but he found himself in a place that was dry and where the darkness was by no means intense. Indeed, there was a white glimmer on all sides and he was not long in discovering a man approaching him. Believing he was to be attacked by an assassin, he first tried to burst his bonds and then, dropping flat on bis once, held his feet in such a position that he coul dash them against the stranger. “Are you hurt?” the latter asked. ain’t burt!” promptly returned the new-comer. ‘I’m well and sprightly.” “You are penis risoner, like myself.” ‘ “Pm one beyon question, but I can’t answer or you. ‘*’m no better,” said the stranger, in a voice which so vibrated with anger that the bound man suddenly sat erect. “ Prove it by untying me,” he said. The order was promp obeyed; a few touches of a pocket-knife severed his bonds and he arose. The two men stood face to face, look- ing at each other ome A ‘“* Who are you?” the last-comer tersely asked. “My name is Albert Leverett, and I am a carpenter of Red Bullet Bar,” was the reply. Bullet Head, the Colorado Bravo. ‘* What are you doing here?” .- Leverett laughed bitterly. ‘* Waiting.” “For what?’ “‘The end. It looks as though it might be death, but who can tell? I see you are not more fortunate than myself, and I will confide in you. We are now ip a vault built by my own hands. I have been here for two days, during which time I have exhausted all my in- ming to get out. It is impossible, as I knew fore I began the attempt, and it looks as though the only hope lies in death. When I was taken I had a small package of food and a flask of whisky in my pocket, but these are now one. Henceforth, there is nothing to eat—un- ess you brought something.” He spoke longingly, but his companion shook his head. ‘*] haven’t a crumb. But, see here—I am still in the dark. What sort of a place is this, er lbert Levere‘t, for the prisoner was indeed he, told all he knew about the iron vault. has been said, he had been in the place two days since he was trapped. The food he had gathered to sustain him on the way to Brick- poe Bend had lasted until within a few hours, ut it was at last gone, and he had nothing to quiet the pangs of bunger and thirst. ‘‘ I begin to see clearly,” said the new-comer, ‘* Bartlett is a villain of the first water, and has built this place as a dungeon, or a tomb, for those he hates. You, being the builder, was first doomed because you knew his secret. Now, none of the outside world know of this lace, and we may starve and give no sign,” ‘* Undoubtedly you are right,” Albert said, gloomily. ** But I am not disposed to die like a rat in a trap. We must escape.” ** Impossible!” ** How so?” ‘‘No human being can get out of bere with- out the best of tools to aid bim.” ‘* And we lack these tools?” ‘“*l have only a pocket-knife, Here you seea paint-brush and a pail, but they are, of course, useless.” The stranger arose and made a survey of the vault. He had not been there long enough to lose courage, and had not Leverett himself been the constructor of the place he might have ined hope; but he knew the cement floor, six nches in thickness, would defy almost any effort, and the well-riveted sheet-iron walls, with the stone affair beyond, could only be passed by the best of tools. The roof seemed too high to be thought of seriously. ‘‘ A fine tomb!” commented the stranger, sar- castically. ‘‘So the old reprobate said it was to hide his treasure from Bullet Head? Bah! [ have seen. the outlaw chief, and 1 tell you he ain’t the worst man in Colorado, His name is against him, and his reputation, too; but he is the friend of the persecuted and innocent.” The stranger spoke earnestly; one would have said he owed some debt of gratitude to the road- agent chief, ‘*Do you live in Red Bullet Bar?’ Leverett asked ‘* No,” answered the stranger, and for a mo- ment he seemed disposed to end all confidence there; but rallying, he added: ‘‘I am a resi- dent of Denver, and my name is Belford— Abram Belford.” ‘‘Have you any idea why you are seized by Bartlett?’ Belford looked annoyed by this questioning, but bis pause was but momentary. ‘I did not see the man except as he was es- corting me in, after bis Chinamen had kid- na me, but I dare say he is some one I have known in the past, possibly under another name. I had a presentiment that Red Bullet Bar would bring me ill, and I should have kept away had it not been for— But, bah! why gossip? I re- peat, we must get out!” ‘** But can it be done?” ’ J “Curse it!” he exclaimed, ‘‘why did you build so well? What bonest man ever wanted such a trap as this? Here we are, walled u alive, doomed to die and leave no sign to tell s - fate. Have you a mother, sister or lady- ove Leverett’s face contracted with pete, ‘‘Do not recall what I must lose!” he ex- claimed, ‘1 only recall that for which we must labor,” Belford coolly answered. ‘‘ You must get out of here to see those for whom you care again; I must escape i The man did not finish, but turning away, walked to the further side of the vault and then back. ‘Perhaps you will tell me how we are to escape,” Albert then said, somewhat bitterly. “ Vou should have left a loop-hole,” said Bel. ford, “ But I did not leave any,” said the carpen- ter ances defiantly. r The my tg nt ge, to a Phas Sie man who took captivity so coolly m a spy sent by Bartlett to see that all llega Aaa sate that the vault was incapable of being broken. That be wronged Belford we need scarcely state, nor will it trouble the reader to see that his present self-possessed mood was but in keep-. ing with the spirit he showed when talking with Bullet Head at the hotel. Practically considered, it remained a fact. that they were prisoners of a man who intend- ed they should die in the vault. of the word, but he had no intention of having the world-at-large know he had such a place as the vault. He bad no fear that Leverett would be sought for by the villagers, for had not the young man announced that be was going to Brickyard Bend? The plotter had calculated every chance and left no weak places in his iniquitous web; Albert was doomed. Why he hated Belford be could, himself, have best told. That his prisoner was ignorant of the complications which had brought him there we may well doubt, but in any case he was not & man to confide in others, The following day, a little past noon, a man ascended the rough side of the mountain bebind the village and, ultimately entering a well-con- cealed cave, was conducted by a gigantic negro. to whom he made known his errand, to no less a person than Bullet Head, the road-agent chief. e need scarcely say the cave was the out- laws’ lair. The man first-mentioned entered a sub-room, which was little more than a niche in the rocks, and stood before his chief. Bullet Head was clad in a gers garb which reminded one of a Turkish costume, and a mask covered his face. It was said that face had never been uncovered near Red Bullet Bar, but we have already seen one case where the rule was violated. The robber started, and looked eagerly at his man. ** Well?” he questioned. ‘“*T have just come from the village, and the landlord is cursing because all three of bis guests disappeared last night. He says they wept without paying their bills,” ‘Did he say the three had disappeared?” ** Yes, captain.” The outlaw leader was silent for a moment, and then he started half-way from bis seat. ‘Fool. that I was!” he ejaculated, aloud; ‘* why did I not detect this?” | His question was an enigma to the messenger, while the black giant had not spoken an unne- cessary word for years. He heard and gave no sign; listened, on such occasions, with a change- less face—seemed a statue, but was, in reality, a sleeping tiger whose life was devoted to Cap- tain Bullet, as the chief was always scrupulous- ly called among his men. The latter recovered his coolness in a moment and, finding by questioning that there was nothing more to be learned, dismissed his man. Then he sunk back in bis chair and relapsed into deep thought, while Goliath, the negro, went to a seat not far away. Bullet Head was far from being at ease. ‘‘The sword has fallen,” he thougbt. ‘ Bel- ford is in the power of his enemies. They have taken bim, dead or alive, and it will & Won- der if he is ever again seen. What have they | done with him? seems foolish to ask, when there are a thousand niches around Red Bullet Bar where his body could be placed, and ie un- til the blast of Gabriel’s horn. Dead he un- doubtedly is; the doom is fulfilled, and the drama ended. But, what shall I do about it?” The question was so profound, and so hard to answer, that he arose and began pacing the room. Situated as he was at the head of his band, he knew it would be dangerous for him to take a hand in the game. He would dare enemies who were numerous, powerful and vindictive, It would be far safer to keep aloof from the affair ; and why sbould he espouse the quarrel of a man he bad never seen until the previous night? With Abram Belford buried and forgotten, there was peace for those who lived; those who tried to uncover his grave might find them- selves victims of their own meddling disposition. CHAPTER IV, BULLET HEAD SEEKS LIGHT. THE road-agent chief did not decide rashly ; such a decision as he had to make was one which required time. Despite the position he held he was not bad-hearted, and he felt it his duty to solve the fate of the man he bad met by chance, but with whom he had exchanged con- fidences. He was well aware that bis own safest course was to keep aloof from the whole affair and to let the name and memory of Abram Belford die out, but honor demanded an altogether different course. “Wo!” he finally decided. ‘*This man de- clared a respect and friendship for me, and will not be cowardly enough to desert him now he is in trouble. e third passenger of the stage was be who calls himself Edmund Bartlctt, and it is to him my friend owes his trouDlo, 15 is for me to avenge him, und this J will doin some JOOKS (ECONMUC Against the: carpenter Bartlett had no ill-will, in one sense: (E(e) | ” f