Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 293 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

na — ceiv 12 Stampede Steve. Bill replied, ina — voice, to the father’s demand for knowledge of his child: ‘*She’s whar ver'll never see her ag’in, yer ole coward cuss! She's way in a tree, a tn way from hyer, an’ she’s tied fast thar, ’sides hevin’ her mouth chuck-full o’ buckskin. She can’t speak, an’ yer c’u’dn’t find her, not ef yer went within ten foot of her. “‘She’s hungry, an’ nigh dead fer water, but thet air nothin’ ter what’scomin’. Yer purty gal air goin’ ter hev her eyes picked out by buz- zards, ole man! ‘*She’s gut ter lay thar, an’ starve, an’ rot, d’yer hear? Hit’s a pity, but she’s boun’ ter be buzzard-feed!” Depraved, degraded, desperate though he was, Bill Bowers was forced to stop; so un- earthly was the drawn and ghastly face of the old planter, as the fearful words of the mis- creant were thus hurled at him. They seemed to the agonized parent, to pierce his brain like a shaft of white-hot steel. Appalled was the wretch, at the effect of his dreadful words; even though he expected and wisbed for death. For a full half-minute thus stood Major Dale; then his nerves began to twitch, and witha snarl like that of a wild beast, he sprung upon Bil! Bowers, his long fingers clutching around the villain’s throat. Powerless was Bill to make an outcry, or even to articulate a word, so borrified was he at the terrible storm he had created—at the un- earthly aspect of the outraged and insulted father! And, for all the effort he had made to prevent it, he was still doomed to be strangled; and this he quickly realized when the old man sprung upon him. Again the merciless fingers clinched around the eods of Bill Bowers, and became tightened ina jerky manner—tightened until —— the eyes and tongue protruded, and the face was black! Then came a change in the fearful scene; a most startling change to those who were in the bottom-timber, had they been there to see. Out from the undergrowth sprung two horses, at frantic speed, a rider upon each, galloping head- long toward the old planter and his victim. A heavy thud sounded on the air, and the old planter fell senseless into the grass! The cords that bound Bill were severed, and gasping and staring wildly, the miserable wretch was dragged to the side of a Dale’s horse, and placed astride of the animal. ‘‘Spur! Spur for your life!” cried out one of the riders, as he urged his horse up alongside the beast upon which Bill had been placed. The other horseman dashed up on the oppo- site side; and both lashed the animal along at breakneck speed; while Bill Bowers, more dead than alive, clung to the saddle-horn. And so, on into the oaks, and up the river, the triosped; Bill’s gaze fixed upon the man to his right, in superstitious horror. His mouth was agape, and he really, in his demoralized state, believed that the ghost of his pard had come back to earth, and saved him from a terrible death; for the right band out-rider was Lasso ije. e reader need hardly be told the name of the one on the left, It was the man whom Bill had seen on the dead tree stump, and whom Lije had declared to be his old pard, Dusky Dick, Most certainly, it was the very individual whom we have known, as Count Biron Broquier. And on the three miscreants dashed on the back trail, toward the scene of the abduction; on, through the oak openings that, in the weird moonlight appeared uncanny enough. But the trio of horsemen themsélves, seemed like fiends let loose upon the earth from Hades, for a night of crime! CHAPTER XIV, OUT OF THE DEPTHS. Count BROQUIER had been terrified, beyond expression, as his wild sbriek had testified, when he had been burled by the teamster into the river. Secarcely had he time to think, when he found himself beneath the dark waters. The current wwas strong, but he struggled desperately, and at last succeeded in clutching an overhanging branch. Not until assured of his safety from death by drowning, did he try to reason upon the most startling event that had so dumfounded him. He had received a great shock, fully believing, when grasped by an unknown and mysterious enemy, that be was lost. Broquier bad been watching most intently for any signs of the presence of the abductors of Dora Dale, and.had been led to seek bis perch SSeS 8 > SSeS Ss sts Texan was not aware of his presence, and might pass him without bis beiug discovered. However, he prepared bimself for defense. As he had lost all trace of the scout, and in conse- quence had been greatly concerned, this more relieved than frightened him. It seemed unreasonable to suppose that it was one of the abductors, and it was doubtful if any one besides Speed was in the vicinity. fad he not been on the dead treé¢, and his whole form, as he believed, above the lower branches of the bushes, the count would not have felt so safe. . His interest and watchfulness were centered in his front, and be did not hear the approach of Bob Barr in his rear. Hence his astonish- ment, then he found himself seized, and flung into the river. When he did collect his scattered ideas, Bro- quier had not the remotest doubt as to his as- sailant. It could be none other than Stephen Speed. But who was the man—if it was a man— whom he had seen approaching him in front? This was a puzzle to the count. ° Steve bad shot his horse, at the place where the abduction had occurred, when the former, as Broquier knew, could have killed him just as easily. From that, and his recent act, the count felt persuaded that the scout had no thought of slaving him. But, instead of being thankful for the for- bearance of Steve, he came more and more furious, as he clung to the branch, still sub- merged to his shoulders. He realized that, should young Speed rescue Dora while he remained thus in the river, all his trouble would have been for nothing, his: plans frustrated! He fairly ground his teeth with baffled re- venge, and most insane rage. Only a few moments, however, did he thus occupy himself. Another startling and mysterious event quickly occurred. An appalling yell of mortal terror drew the count’s attention up the river, to the point from which he had been thrown; and he saw, dimly outlined in the rosy glow that pervaded the space betwen the lower boughs of the trees and the undergrowth, the figures of two men. The one was erect, and was holding the other at arm’s length over his head. This lasted but an instant; the next, the man was burled, as he himself had been, down into the dark depths of the Rio Guadalupe. Never had Broquier been more amazed in his ife. ; ho, in the fiend’s name, was this second vic- tim? And who was the man who bad thrown them both into the Guadalupe? He now knew that it was not the young Texan, for he was much smaller in stature. There must, then, be others in the vicinity. Who were they, and who was this who had been treated like bimis: If? These were puzzling questions. The unknown shot from view, and then, to prove to the count that in one particular he bad not been mistaken, Speed bimself strode down the bank, directly to the spot where the un- known had, but a moment previous, been stand- ing. The young scout seemed to have been drawn to the spot by the shrieks of the last victim; and he peered down into the dark waters, evidently in joubt as to the sounds he had beard. The appearance of Steve relieved the mind of Broquier; but the next moment he was as furious as before, by observing the scout dart in baste into the undergrowth. This looked to the count discouraging, for he reasoned that the unknown was not one of the abductors, who would undoubtedly now keep concealed. Hé must be a friend to this Speed, and probably was also on the trail to rescue Dora, having but recently arrived, Greatly mystified, Broquier resolved to act promptly. He now believed that Steve would join the unknown, and that Dora Dale would be rescued by them. The time for action had arrived, and here be was, in the river, and losing time and oppor- tunity. So infuriated was the count, at the proba- bility of bis being balked in his scheme, that he quite forgot there was another man in the river. Losing his hold on the branch, he now lunged forward into the middle of the stream; avd swam with the current. It was quite dark on the river, the surface of the same being far be- low the general level of the land; and, as the Guadalupe flowed eastward, all was sbrouded in gloom in front of Broquier. He could not on the tree stub, from the fact that the fall of | even distinguish the water-line. the bottle convinced him, that those who had the young girl in their power were secreted among the branches of the towering timber. As he swam down-stream, his eyes bent to bis right and upward,in an endeavor to dis- cover a point where the bank was not so high, He bad discovered, however, no indications of _ he suddenly recalled the fact that he had com- their presence; but, in front of him, be had per- a form that seemed to be approaching He decided that Steve Speed was coming to- ward bim, but he was confident that the young pens in the waters—that is, if the man who ad been flung into the river last had not been drowned. However, there were no means of ascertain- ing the fact, and the count was not desirous to ‘Into bis vitals, he knew, for the col have company in his next attempt to carry out: his proposed plan. e now endeavored to ascertain the nature of the bank near him. If it was shelving, he would make an effort to climb upward. There was no time to lose. Each moment Broquier became more furious. Soon, to bis great relief, he gained a point which he considered favorable, and he drew himself, dripping, upon what seemed to be a narrow shelf of mud, the main bank being two feet beyond and almost perpendicular, He bad fancied, indeed he was almost positive, that he beard the heavy breathing of a man in front of him. This made him cautious, yet he hastened on his mission, Well he knew that the man who had been burled into the river, although perhaps an enemy to the scout, was no friend of his—for he had no friends. He, therefore, had no desire to be discovered, Smeared with mud, the count stole along the narrow shelf, examining the bank with his hands, and soon reached a spot where, with much difficulty, he clambered upward. With a sigh of relief and a low snarl of exultation he rested upon bis hands and knees, as he gained the upper level, panting re ben @ _ sound caused him to shoot a glance to his eft. He saw a dark body rushing toward him; but before be could spring to his feet he was crushed to the earth, and held in the arms of a man, Snarling like wild beasts, their limbs in- aver they rolled over and over in fierce gbt. Count Broquier began to despair. That his opponent bad a blade end to plunge steel hb touched his cheek in the struggle. | Soon the unknown gained the advantage, be- strode him, and the count lay panting for breath, expecting instant death, and too ex- hausted to struggle more, A heavy groan came from bis lips. ‘*Groan onc’t more, an’ fer ther las’ time, Dusky Dick, fer Satan tortur’ me ef I doesn’t split yer gizzard fer goin’ back on me—a ole pard! Got ter be dang’d airy, ain’t yer, since yer bes run with bigh-fiy planters? *Cuss me, <f 1 w’u’dn’t ha’ choked ther breath outen yer carkiss ef ['d knowed yer tumbled inter ther drink arter slingin’ me in!” Even now, so intense was the amazement and terror of the count that he could not speak, He lay limp and gasping for breath, the darkness preventing him from recognizing the man who claimed him as an old pard, and who believed him to have tbrown bim into the river. This man bad now decided upon kill- ing him, t had been a day of strange and tragic occur- rences, and the night promised well toward a continuance of them, ‘‘Satan tortur’ yer! Why doesn’t yer say sometbin’?’ demanded the unknown, furiously. ‘* Did yer think I’d drapin on yer an’ claim my share 0’ rhino fer puttin’ up ther job on ther ole cuss? Shute off yer tongue jist onc’t, afore I sends yer off on ther whiz!” A gasping sound issued from the throat of Broquier, as be strove to articulate. At last be called out, in a voice expressive of his rror: , ‘In the fiend’s name, who are you? and why do you seek my life?” ‘*Wa-al, thet’s purty cool an’ cheeky, I’)! sw’ar! But hit’s nat’ral fer yer ter act that-a- way. What did ver chuck me inter ther river fer, when I war p’intin’ fer yer locate, ter git a grip et yer paw! Dog-gone ef I ain’t wastin’ time on yer, when I’m chuck-full o’ biz,” ‘‘] swear I did not throw you into the river: I do not know who youare. I was burled into the waters myself but afew moments before ou were. I beard you yell when the ruffian unched you over the bank, and you must have heard me when J went over, for you could not have been far away. ‘*Again I ask, whoare you? If I was not sure Lasso Lije was dead, l’d swear you were he, by your voice!” it ‘ever Broquier spoke sineerely in his life +) was then; aud Lije was forced to believe im. ‘Lasso Lije air on topo’ yer, an’ a Jong ways from bein’ dead, Dusky Dick! Ef bit warn’t you what chucked me in ther drink, jist tell | me who hit war, an’ I'll hash him, dead sure!” **T don’t know—I swear it! and we’ll soon find out. Is this really you, old pard? Pistol Pete told me that he saw you laid | out cold at Laredo.” ‘* Hit’s me, all ther same, Dick, and in a purty tight box. Thar ain’t no time ter gab, Me an’ my pard hev stoled a gal up river, a! they’re arter us. We must skute Grandee-wa ~ ter onc’t.” Instantly all was plain to the count. Lasso Lije arose, and assisted him.to his feet, Broquier exclaiming: ~ ou have accidentally put ,00 o> *. - . .. * com : >.) _* _— a, C aul gg finger in my pie? That girlisto be my wife. She is the daughter of the man we put up the murder cS CO! ) But let me up, — | é b Oe = nk it, ts , : Shreve ‘ * I ' wim Se me = se