Beadle's Dime Library, Vol. III, No. 29 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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22 sneered the man who had been snubbed by the roustabout. “Look a-here, stranger, there'll be a row in this here camp in about two minutes and a half, if you don’t Pe & stopper on that pertater-trap o’ yourn. I should hate to spile yer beauty; but reckon you'll wad og enough teeth ter set up a dentist shop righ smart.’ Having quelched his opponent, the ‘‘ judge” again turned to the court. ‘*T reckon there’s only one punishment for the crime o’ murder. How is it, gents? Jest speak your minds.”’ ‘* Hang him!’ ‘Stretch his cussed neck!” “* Hold up; let him spout first.” “Dry up yer chin-music, and don’t yer go ter in- structin’ the judge. One’s enough ter run this here machine. Jest you keep in your end o’ the shop. Has the ‘Spaaeel anything ter say, why he shouldn't stretch the hemp?” The “ yi paused; but the “ prisoner’? was stupid with terror, and attempted to say nothing. “The prisoner is silent. Jest somethin’ less’n three score an’ ten git a holt o’ t’other end o’ the rope, while I fix this necklace becomin'ly.”’ ‘Whoo! bear a hand, b'yes, and remember he’d ‘a’ let two honest lads swing in his place.”’ ‘Lift him tenderly. It’s not every day you have a gentleman o’ means at t’other end o’ the ell ‘The money he stole from his dad won't buy off this here crowd, eh, gents?” ‘*Put a fancy knot in that there neck-tie!”’ “Air youready? He—” ‘‘ Hold up, there! Slack up on that there rope!” The premature pull had deranged the knot. The roustabout rearranged it, and held the noose over the head of the prisoner. ; Bound hand and foot with a ruffian on either side holding him bythe arms, with Judge Lynch just about to drop the noose over his neck, and more than a score at the other end of the rope only too eager to give the fatal tug, Fred Powell was indeed in a critical situation. He thought of the sister who had grown at his side from earliest infancy; he thought of the father whom he had last seen lying stunned and bleeding in a corner of the cell, trampled by heedless feet; then he thought of her who had said: “Trederick, I love you more than a sister—more than a father—more than a mother! I trust you as I trust my God!” How had he rewarded that love! Covered her with shame—worse than that, made her an object of ity, a8 the affianced bride of a murderer! And her trust! Would not a murderer do any thing? A drunkard, a gambler, a murderer—proved beyond the shadow of adoubt! And would she believe that two links in the chain were wanting?—forgery and theft! Would her simple faith in him, thus rudely shaken, prevail against the evidence that had con- vineed his grandfather, his sister, his father? He could not hope it. He hung his head in abject mis- ery, and was almost glad that it would so soon be over. “Say yer prayers, if you've got any to say,” said the executioner, as he hesitated a moment, Fred shuddered. Could a murderer pray? Then appeared to his mind a vision before which all the affairs of this world sunk into utter insignificance. He saw his soul steeped in the blood of a fallen creature. He saw the dread, accusing frown of the Just Judge, and shuddering, fainting, sickening with horror, he waited for the awful moment, ; “ Ag judge o’ this court, I hereby carry out its sen- tence; and may God have mercy on your soul!” said the roustabout, in horrible mockery of judicial form. Then, with one awful moment of suspense, he let the noose fall; and, with a wild yell, a hundred hands tugged at the rope. CHAPTER XXII. A WOMAN'S ACT. Movuntep on a coal-black charger, that had carried bis rider through many a fight in the war for the Union, Florence Goldthorp rode jnto the city at a breakneck pace, She ps ok only of her lover, and of the dreaAful peril that threatened him. She had thrust a small silver-mounted pistol into the bosom of her dress, and her flashing eyes and firm-set lips told her resolve to defend him at all hazards, 1 She knew that her feeble arm unaided could avail nothing, and looked about for assistance. In this strait she came across Charley Brewster with a small posse of police whom he had gathered. Most of the uardians of the city’s peace had construed their uty in accordance with prudence, and were conven- iently out of the way. 63 “Mr. Brewster,” cried Florence, ‘‘ you can do noth- ing with so small a body of men on foot, Half a dozen mounted men can accomplish more than a score without horses. Go to a livery-stable and mount pope men on the best horses you can find. Charley saw the force of her reasoning, and acted on the suggestion at once. But innumerable delays arose; and when at last they set out the rioters were well-nigh at Dead Man’s Bluff. ‘“‘Come on! For heaven’s sake, ride as fast as you can, or we shall be too late!"’ cried Florence, urging her horse into a wild gallop. The policemen strove not to be outdone by a wo- man; but she was better mounted than any of the rest, and was soon far in advance. Nearer to that horrible scene of bloodthirstiness, her blood curdled by the wild shouts that came to her on the soft-breathing cepsital Faster and fast- er she rode, until the scene in all its fiendishness burst upon her vision! She saw the fatal rope dangling from a limb, the noose held above the head of her lover, the frenzied mob that awaited the signal to pull! Sick with horror, dizzy with the blood that surged into her brain and then rushed back upon her heart, she uttered the command: “* Charge!” Her steed summoned all his energies into his sin- ews of steel. With ears close to his head, with blaz- ing eyes and streaming nostrils, he leaped the outer circle of spectators, clearing the heads of some, trampling some under foot! On, on, until he was brought up on his haunches in the very center of the surg mob, by a tightening of the rein and the command: ** Halt!’ So engrossed had all been in the fiendish work, that they knew nothing of her presence until the first leap that brought her into their very midst. Then a shout of terror and warning arose, as the black horse descended among them, knocking some of them bleeding and unconscious to the ground. Again he vaulted into the air; one of the men who was holding Fred saw him, leaped aside to avoid the shock, and dragged the wretched captive from be- neath the fatal noose. At the same instant the noose ——$<_—$ $$$. fell, striking Fred on the shoulder; the would-be | hangmen yelled and gave a violent tug, that caused the rope to run over the limb and themselves to fall in a heap; and the loaded end of Florence’s ae whip descended upon the head of the roustabout, sending him reeling against the tree. The ruffian recovered himself and drew his revol- ver. Florence, quicker than he, whipped out her own weapon and drew trigger, with the pistol cover- ing the villain’s heart. The hammer descended, but there was no report. One of the chambers had been unloaded, With a hoarse laugh of triumph, the heartless de- mon nae at the heroic girl, and Florence slid to the ground. A wild yell of rage and terror burst from the mob at this dastardly act. A little man, all bone and muscle, leaped upon the roustabout and knocked the yet-smoking weapon from his hand. The giant whirled round and grappled his antagonist, and they ro on the ground, under the feet of the surging throng. Wild yells arose on every hand, The crowd heaved and tossed like an angry sea, in their mad efforts to reach the center. The stronger elbowed the weaker aside, or struck out vigorously with their fists to clear a way for themselves. Smarting from the blows, the assailed retorted in kind, and then ensued a scene that baffles description—a Western “ free fight.’"". Every man fought on his own account, with the motto of Donnybrook Fair: ‘*‘ Wherever you see a head, hit it!’ only the weapons were bowie-knives and pistols, instead of shillalahs. And in the midst of this Pandemonium stood a wo- man!—unhurt as yet; for, blinded ‘by the stunning blow, the roustabout was unable to take accurate aim; butin how awful a situation! Her horse stood Fig in every nerve, but he did not move. He elt her band on the rein, and heard her voice com- | mand: ‘** Duke, halt!” But Florence was not idle. She plucked a heavy bowie-knife from the girdle of a man who stood near her, and with its keen blade severed the ligatures that bound the hands of her lover. ‘* Here, Fred, the horse!’’ she cried. **Not jest yit, if ye please!” said a ruffian, catch- ing Fred by the shoulder and tripping him up, lis feet were yet bound, and he was almost help- ess. ‘*Doolan! McReady! Laven!"’ cried Florence, ap- pealing to men who were known to her and stood near, ‘I saved your wives and children from star- vation and the fever! Will you see him murdered before your very eyes—nay, assist in his murder? lor shame, men elp me to rescue him!” As she spoke, she stooped down, and with a slash cut the bonds that secured her lover’s feet. Fred felt his release and made a violent struggle for life, In that moment he was endowed with almost super- human strength. He rolled over the man who sprung upon and struggled to his feet, But the would-be executioners were loth to be cheated of their victim, They sprung upon him in numbers, with blows and curses, and he was again borne to the ground. But rescue was at hand. Florence’s appeal had not been without effect. The men whom she addressed at first hung their heads; and then, seeing Fred beaten down a second time, they lea upon his assailants with an Irishman’s impulsive readi- ness to fight for any cause that enlists his sympa- thies. Striking out Bent and left, thwacking heads with fists and shillalahs, pulling here and hauling there, they is er reduced the heap of human tigers that had piled upon the unfortunate Fred. Then, blinded by blood and dirt, with torn clothes and body covered with bruises, the victim of lynch law was jerked roughly, yet oe to his feet, by one of those whom Florence’s words had enlisted on 8 side. Florence caught him in her arms, as he staggered blindly, and drew him away. ene is Duke. Get upon him, and ride for your e ” ‘*Florence, is this your” he cried, brus the blood out of his eyes. * What a place for you! Mount instantly you Here, I will help you.” He essayed to help her—he, who could scarcely sustain his own weight. **No, no!’ she cried, “I have friends; I am safe. But you—save yourself, as you love me!” Further debate was cut off by a concerted yell that rose above the general tumult, and a discharge of pistols in a volley that made itself heard above the random shots. en there was a surging of the crowd apart, and a body of mounted policemen, headed by harley renee, urged their way to the black horse and mistress. There was a momentary pause, and while the po- licemen clustered around with threatening weapons, Charley leaped to the ground. “Take my horse, Fred!’’ he cried, as he lifted Florence into her saddle. But Fred did not comply, ‘Give me a lift, Charley,” he said, with one hand on the cantle of Florence's saddle. There was no time for hesitation or questions. Charley placed his hand on his knee; F made a step of it, and leaped astride of Duke, behind Flor- ence. Charley mounted his own horse; and the party dashed from the crowd, followed by a shower of bullets that made one policeman’s horse riderless, while another officer reeled in his seat. Then Charley Brewster saw what Fred had done. He had pag) og his own body between her he loved better than life and the bullets he knew would follow their flight. Just as the sun sunk from view behind a bank of clouds that were rapidly coming up in the west, they emerged into the country road, and Fred was safe for the time, It was proposes to carry him to a jail in an ad- joining county; and they set out with a twelve miles’ ride before them. The storm was upon them be- fore they had peocen pee half the distance. The men slouched their hats over their faces, drew up their coat-collars, and dashed ahead, with the rain pelting in their faces, Amid crashing thunder and lightnin zigzaging across the sky, they drove up to the jail. Lanterns were brought and the pery dismounted. When they came to look for their prisoner, he was no- where to be found. The black horse and his mistress had also disappeared. Late that night Duke galloped up to the gate, and his draggled and mud-bespattered mistress dis- mounted and led him into the stable. ‘Good Duke! Noble fellow!” she said caressingly, taking his head in her arms and laying her cheek against his, and the animal whinnied gratefully and nibbled at the sleeve of her dress. Then she went into the house and to bed, and the next morning was in a high fever, from excitement and exposure, CHAPTER XXIV. TO THE DBATH. Wuen Duke bore the lovers out of the clutches of Judge Lynch, Fred shielded with his own the body of his brave preserver. He saw the policeman fall from his saddle; and clasping Florence close in his arms. he dug his heels into Duke’s flanks and urged him to still greater exertions. It was but a moment, and then they had left their bloodthirsty persecutors behind. Down the country road they coursed, and gradually Duke fell into the rear, While Charley Brewster led the van. Then Fred Powell pressed his swollen lips to the cheek of the woman who had so nearly lost her life in rescuing him, and said: “God bless you, my darling! How you must love me to risk so much in my defense!” She let her velvet cheek rest against his bruised and bloody one, and whispered: ‘**Love you? Llove you better than my life!” ‘But what fearful peril! My heart yet quails to think of it!” I could gladly ‘*T shared it with you, dearest! pass through death at your side!”’ He held her close to his heart, and sighed to think what wretchedness her love for him must bring her. “Ours is a sad love, Florence, I sometimes hate m self | for dragging you into the shadow of my crime. ‘** And yet, could you give me up?” “No! no! a thousand times no!” he cried, straining | her to him at the thought of losing her. ** I knew it, Fred,” she replied, with a happy smile. * Neither would I give you up, for the ha : oat love that woman was ever blessed with. y love is deeper, stronger than it could be without its sorrow. The happiness of this moment repays all.”’ “But my crime, Florence; for I am guilty of this— can you love me with blood on my soul??? A spasm of pain shot across her face. “Fred, a woman who truly loves never asks what the caer of her love has done, but what he has suf- ered.’ His heart swelled with gratitude for her devotion. For a moment there was a wild purpose seething in his brain, If he could escape and take her with him where they would never be found! No; if he went he must go alone. It would be cruel to drag her away from friends and home into an exile that might be one continuous flight. ‘*Florence,’’ he whispered, with his lips to her ear, ‘*I] must not be taken to that jail. Help me to es- cape,”’ She started violently, and then pale with fear, asked: ‘* How?”’ ** Don't you see, the storm will soon be upon us, and we can drop behind in the darkness. Leave it to me; I will manage it.”’ On, on they rode; and when they descended into a k glade where the trees overhung the way, while the storm was at its hight, he suddenly drew aside upon the grass, and then stopped the horse alto- ether, while the rest rode on unconscious of their loss. Turning aside into a bridle-path, he followed it until they came to a little opening. Here he drew a again, and leaped to the per ig na moment she was at his side, clinging to him. ‘* Oh, Fred, are you going?—and whither?” : He drew her under the shelter of a dense vine, beg hoon a preon “aR ea ge eh nae, them rom the storm, ated here, he unfolded to her dark future that lowered before him. . ‘‘Oh, take me with you, Fred,” she whispered. ‘You will need me. Icannot bear to let you away alone. Take me with you, dearest! I shall happier at your side, whatever privations and suffer- ing we have to undergo, than waiting, waiting, and never knowing what has parpence to you,” He held her to him, ming ing his tears with hers. The more she proved her love for him, the harder it was to oe her up. He knew that picturing the suf- fering she must endure in his company would not shake her purpose; so he made her unselfish love for him, her willingness to do and suffer anything © at his well-being, the means of combating her e. Flo!" he said, throwing inexpressible tenderness in the pet name, “ how can I take you with me, even if I coul.i consent to such a ce? Alone I may escape. But how could both of us evade pursuit?” She saw the force of his wo and almost hated her rt age weakness, that would make her a drag upon . ng they talked, and when at last they were forced to part, it was like rending their hearts asun- der, But all things must have an end; and after the last clinging embrace, the last sweet pressure of the lips, Florence Goldthrop rode slowly home with a breaking hears, 6nd Fred Powell stood alone in the darkness and the storm, an outcast, a fugitive from justice. We will not stop to Genick the life that Fred Powell was forced to lead for the next week—the fleeing by night, the hiding by day; the invasions of hen-roosts and orchards and cornfields to sa: the cravings of hunger; the starts at an approaching footstep the longing yet dread of seeing a human face, o hearing a human voice. After long and weary flights, he thought himself MICO, <S, (Elo) Cc ace