Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 293 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

% = ral "4 i _ 4 6 qi ’ ~~ «4 * 7 J's « We his Fi tie Bieb I _ each other at sight. Stampede Steve. engage as guide for me, we will, from this on, consider you as one of our family. ‘‘ We need not for the present, speak of the pecuniary part of the arrangement. I want you, and what it costs is of no consequence to me.”’ ‘Money matters are of little moment to my- self, Major Dale. I do not trouble myself very much with money, or the thoughts of it. I am 4 consider myselfin youremploy, and that ends it. ‘‘Tapprehend, however, that Count Broquier will not be particularly pleased at your having engaged me.” mn uneasy expression came into the major’s face, and be glanced behind him, as he replied: ‘*T declare, I entirely forgot him! You and the count seem to have formed an antipathy to I do not understand it.” “Major Dale,” said the young man, gazing steadily at the planter, “1 do not thinkit ought to be beyond your understanding. The charac- ter of this noble personage, whom I find in your company, is stamped plainly upon his face. ‘*He knew that I read him at a glance, and hence his hatred of myself. ‘It is not my business to know or care, why he is with you; but I venture to assert that you will yet curse the day you permitted him to grasp your hand in friendship! “ Mark my words, Major Dale; I am to go ‘with your train, and I avow that my great ob- ject will be to defeat that villain, and defend you from his designs—I can see through him, and it is a mystery to me, that I find him in your company. ‘*Do not tax yourself to reply, but bear in mind that I am your friend, and will yet sever the knot that binds you and yours to Count Biron Broquier!” The old gentleman bad a most bewildered look while the scout was speaking; but, as Steve ended his remarks, he asked, in a hoarse voice: * Are youa magician, Mr. Speed? Youamaze, astonish me! What can you mean?” ** It requires only the most ordinary percep- tion to arrive at the conclusion I have formed,” said the young man. “ But, we are approach- ing the spot where I left your daughter—among those oaks.” With these words, the scout galloped forward. The maiden, he had rescuei, was nowhere to be seen! Directly up to the dead steer plunged the horse of Bteve: the latter at once discovering that the slain animal had been hacked, and the tongue cut out. Instantly the young scout recognized the fact, that the pursuers of the steer had been to the carcass. Where were they? - Who were they? _ Where was Dora? Peering into the shades, Steve Spéed called out wildly, the missing girl’s name. As may be sup , Major Dale was startled at this discovery. He galloped up to the scout, the count and the teamster close in the rear. Soon Steve recovered himself, and springing from his horse, he began reading the “‘ sign” at, and sround the carcass. “By my hopes of Heaven, I'll save her! [Pl tear her from the villains, and hash them into saddle-strings! I swear it; I'll rescue Dora e A mocking, triumphant laugh sounded on the air, followed by an ejaculation of jealous fury. Steve, the Scout, realized bis imprudence. The laugh came from Count Biron Broquier,. Another followed from the same source, but it was quickly smothered. How? By the blood-reeking tongue of the dead steer, which struck the count directly, and with great force, across the mouth and face! . Major Dale, and Bob Barr, the teamster, stood, silent and dumfounded. The tongue bad been burled, in fury, but with deliberation, by Steve, the Scout! CHAPTER VI. A RECOGNITION, At the very instant that the young scout hurled the blood-smeared tongue in the face of the count, he jerked his revolver, and presented it at the swarthy insulter, velling out: “‘Up with your hands, Count Broquier, or I'll let the black blood out of your vile heart! Up hands, I say, or I'll bore you!” The count, with a fierce curse, had attempted when struck to draw his pistol; but the words of Steve were too plain and emphatic to be dis- obeyed. His hands went up, on the instant, while his dark face turned ashen in hue. ‘‘Hold, Mr. Speed!” exclaimed the major; ‘‘would you shoot the man, and fur what? Where, in Heaven’s name, is my daughter? What does all this mean?” Digging his spurs, the count forced his horse to bound forward, placing the major between him and the scout. Then he yelled: “Tt isa very cunning plot, Major Dale! Are you blind? That ruffian and bis fellows have abducted Miss Dale. He is 4n outlaw!” No sooner had be uttered these words, than the count lowered his hands, clutched his bridle, drove spurs, and dashed toward the river; but as he turned to enter the cow-path, the crack of a revolver sounded, and Count Biron Broquier, ' together with his borse, fell to the earth. ‘ What does all this mean?” cried out the old major. ‘ Have you killed the count?” he young seout stood erect, his eyes blazing with fury. He gazed neither to the right nor left. He seemed not to hear the major’s words. A change, at once, came over the old planter. Straightening himself, he drew his revolver, and leveled it directly at Steve’s breast; say- ing, in a determined voice: “Explain your words and acts, Mr. Speed, at once! Where is my daughter? “ Have you shot the coun for having exposed your true character? Speak! I demand an ex- planation, and that at the muzzle of my revol- ver! I have the drop on you!” The teamster, who had been dumfounded at these strange and rapidly changing occurrences, but who had shown signs of pleasure on bear- ing, for the first time, the prairie cognomen of the young scout, now spurred forward, and ex- tended his hand, saying: ‘‘Put ber thar, pard! Why didn’t yer say yer war Stampede Steve afore? Dog-goned ef didn’t know, dead sure, I’d see’d yer some- whar, but I c’u’dn’t ’zactly tell whar! “Put up yer shooter, major! This byer air ther squarest, whitest perrarer pilgrim yer ever run agin’, Dm a bettin’ on bit! ‘Sreve, I’m know’d es Bob Barr. I useter drive on ther Pass route, fer George Giddin’s. Reckon yer mought ha’ heerd tell o’ my bein’ ther only cuss what ’scaped ther ’Paches, outen a hull hearse full, *bove Fort Clark, last year?’ Steve mechanically took the proffered hand, and replied in a friendly tone: ‘‘Thank’ you, Bob, for your recommend! Yes, I know of you, and that you are true blue.” ‘‘ But stand aside! I am not afraid of a brave man, but only of a coward, like the count yonder.” Bob urged his horse forward, but there stood the major, bis revolver still leveled at the scout’s breast; although his eyes were fixed upon the teamster in no little surprise and wonder. ‘‘ Major Dale,” said Steve, in a ringing but friendly voice, as he folded bis arms and gazed fixediy into the face of the old planter ; ** listen to me amoment! I have but little tne to spare, for I have sworn to rescue your daugb- ter! “It is not strange that you are puzzled and almost beside yourself with anguish. Neither is it to be wondered at that you are suspicious when you find that Miss Dale is not at the place where [ asserted that I had left her. ‘* But it is strange, after I have spoken as I have to you in regard to that self-styled count, that you should place any confidence in his words. ‘* T have not killed the scoundrel, but I expect to be forced to do so in the near future. He is a veritable snake in the grass, and is now in an appropriate ition. 1 will gs anything you may wish to stake that he is listening now to every word I speak. “He does not dare rise from the ground, lest my next shot be aimed at his heart, But be is safe until 1 unmask bis villany and ex- pose his true character to you, ‘** Bob Barr bas said in your hearing that he knows me as an honorable man, I believe I bear that reputation through West Texas, and I have some celebrity as a not unskilled scout. Yet you accuse me of being a murderer, and of defaming one who you know in your heart can- not be defamed; who is so low and dastardly that no words can explain or define the depths of his infamous and vile character. ! “But we have had enough of this. He is not worthy of so many words. Now, I will ex- laip what seems so strange to you. ‘¢T told you that Miss Dale’s horse ran away from her. That was true; but the animal had been frightened by the maddened steer which you see dead before you. I put a bullet through that beast’s heart, just in the nick of time to save your daughter’s life. She fell senseless be- tween the horns of the brute as it sunk at ber feet. ‘‘ T carried her to the motte, and when she re- vived, sprung upon my borse to go in search of hers, bidding her remain here until my return. “‘T trailed the horse to a point near your camp, and meeting you with the animal, re- turned with you, to find your daughter gone. “ Since I have been absent, the captors of the steer have been here. [ perceive that they re- covered their lasso, and then cut out the tongue and some meat to convey away. At the moment they were about to start itis evident that they,must have discovered Miss Dale, and, a he tongue, hastened to take her cap- tive. ‘‘There is no renchero in this region, who uses a brand like the one upon this steer. ‘‘Such a brand is not recorded, PU bet my life! There were two men here, and they were cattle-thieves, outlaws, and have carried your daughter away! ‘¢ Tf I do not trail them, and rescue her within three days’ time, she is lost forever! ‘* She will be carried across the Rio Grande, to a doom far worse than death. ‘* Major Dale, if you will examine the steer and the trail, they will prove my assertions. I go now, to rescue Miss Dora, or die in the at- eke “If you ever see me again, you will see your daughter also.” Clutching the neck-rope of his horse, Steve nodded familiarly to Bob, and rode off rapidly on the trail of the abductors of Dora, The old planter stood silent, almost overcome with mingled shame and self-condemation. Very impressive had been the attitude of the young scout. None, who heard and saw him, could doubt the truth of what he said. At last, with an effort, the major called out: ‘* Hold, Mr, Speed! Hold!” The scout balted, but reluctantly. The old man rushed to his side, and grasped his hand, calling out, wildly: ‘“Forgive me, Mr. Speed! I was, and am, nearly — with anguish and apprebension. In Heavenh’s name, what am I to do? It is I, and my men, who should follow those mis- creants, ‘Tf you will guide us on the trail, you shall have any reward you ask. I am convinced that you are an honest, and a brave man,” Grasping the proffered hand, Steve replied: ‘‘Major Dale, I hold no ill-feelings against ro God knows you have had enougl to un- valance your mind, I goon this trail, but not. for pay; andI goalone. Others would not only impede my movements, but would render a res- cue more doubtful. ‘‘ Silent and stealthy, Indian-like, I shall fol- low the villains, and save your child. Have no fears regarding my success, and do not detain me View er. Bob would have volunteered, did he not know that Iam better alone. Trust me, Major Dale! “Return to camp, and beware of Count Biron Broquier, Farewell! I shall return with your daughter—you may depend upon me!” Without waiting a ren from the old planter,. Steve Speed dashed on, along the trail. The major staggered like a drunken man, his eyes blinded by tears, as he returned to the car- cass of the steer. Bob Barr, having dismounted to examine the dead brute, exclaimed: ‘*Major, come byer, an’ yer kin see ‘sign,’ what talks es plain es Stampede Steve. knowed every word he slung war Gospill truth, but I wanted yer ter see ther proofs, ‘‘Thar’s whar Steve’s lead bored ther bleed- box o’ ther critter, an’ hyer’s whar Miss Dora stood pickin’ ies. Then yer kin see ther huff-prints o’ ther or’nary scum what levanted with her, an’ whar they slasbed off ther meat. Ther sign, all roun’, air plain es A, B, C. “Dang ef I doesn’t feel fer yer, major! But I'm afferdavyin’ thet Steve ’ll fotch ther leetle gal in, all XXX an’ peart. I wouldn’t be in ther skin o’ ther hellyuns what’s tuck her fer ther hull o’ Texas. Stampede Steve air a ragin’ roarer when he gits good an’ mad, bet. yer bestest team o’ mules! He's thet-a-way "bout now, I reckon, «« Yer see’d him when he slung ther tongue et ther count, who air bout es snaky es a Greeser —dang me ef he ain’t!—an’ long ee a with er outfit he’s gut ter keep his jaw hobbled, hg take ther stiffenin’ outen him, es Steve | ‘* Whar in ther dickens air he? I reckon he’s ’shamed ter show up. But thet can’t be co; he’s gut more cheek nor a be rhinoser-hoss. ‘Major, don’t worritate yerself. Hit ’ll all come out hunk with Miss Dora. Ef I warn’t dead sure on hit, ’d skute on ther trail my- self. But I knows Steve’ll git away with ther gn te pal ajor Dale had, by this time, seen plainly the proofs of the words of Sta mpede Steve. He also perceived the horse of the court quietly feeding, and was surprised at the sight, The words of the teamster gave him much hope and comfort. But where was the count? Why had the old planter spoken as he did to Steve, in regard to shooting this man? It was because he had seen the head of Bro- quier peering above the grass, and he knew Hoa the latter was not only unharmed but lis- tening. Had the count been killed, would Major Dale have regretted the fact? He would not! Why, then, did he fear to have the young scout resent the words of the insulting scoun- drel, or fight him, when it was plain that he sayy in fear and dread of his strange guest? Was it because the count might not be slain outright, and, while dying, might reveal that which the old planter feared to have known— that, namely, which had placed him in the power of Broquier? We shall see hereafter. Bob Barr and the major proceeded at once toward the count’s horse. The grass was much trampled. (ECON MICE] ONO) <5 com Ane,