Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 293 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

’ é | 1 eincnimnoue want truce eas eR Steve. A little stream of dlood flowed from a bullet- hole in the muscular portion of the horse’s neck, near the roots of the mane. The rider was no- where to be seen. Both Major Dale and the teamster called to the count in loud voices. There was no response. Bob ote to a clearly-defined trail through the tall grass, which had the appearance of having been made by a man creeping on all- fours. This trail pointed down the river, parallel with the same, Count Biron Broquier was gone! Both the old planter and Bob turned about, and gazed toward the south. Afar off, at times, they caught a view of Steve, the Scout, between the gigantic oaks. He was following the trail, rapidly. And that trail also led down the river, and parallel with it. ‘*Skute back ter camp, ma jor, an’ ‘tend ter things! Thar’s nasty biz ahead, an’ Bob Barr's co ter prospect arter crookedness, on ther Sly ‘Before Major Dale could find tongue, in his demoralized state, to remonstrate, or ask an ex- planation, the teamster was galloping east, down-stream, and had soon disppeared in a dense motte. With a gruan of despair and anguish, the old man dashed along the cow-path, toward the ford, and his camp, leading the horse of the missing Count Biron Broquier. CHAPTER VII. RIDING TO THE RIO GRANDE. THE two miscreants, who had abducted poor Dora Dale, felt convinced that their trail would soon be followed. They rode side by side, at a gallop, after reaching, as they considered, a safe distance from the spot where they had captured the maiden. Then they turned eastward, keeping about the middle of the oak belt, and traveling parallel with the Rio Guadalupe. Lije, as soon as a favorable point was reached with the assistance of Bill, bound and gagged the senseless girl; knowing that a scream from her might be the means of condemning them to death, at the end of a lariat. “Dang my hide, Bill, ef we-uns hain’t guta ter keep shady, arter this hyer scrape? yhar’n ther devil, shell we p’int fer? ‘*Satan tortur’ me, Lije, ef yer ain’t kerrect! We can’t leave timber—thet air a dead sure thing—er we'll git skuped in; thet air, ontil dark comes. Et night we kin glide Grandee- ways, strikin’ ther San Antone river, an’ lay over thar ter-morrer. Eft I ain’t mistooken, thar’s ranchers, er somebuddy else, foun’ et she’s tuck, by this time.” ‘* Spur up, then! We'll keep straight ahead fer a few mile, an’ then strike fer ther big tim- ber o’ ther Guadalupe. ? ‘*We must ‘low our critters free range, an’ run chances then.” ‘‘Nary time, es long es Lasso Lije hes any sense left! We'll hobble ther nags in some ‘open’, ’mong ther underbrush, an’ then climb up, with ther gai, some distance from ther crit- ters. “Thar’s moss an’ vines, thick enough ter hide a cotton-tailed rabbit; an’ thet’s ther sort of & spot whar we must locate purty soon.” “Dang ef yer bead ain’t level es usual, Lije! Thet’s ther p’ogramme, dead sure. I ‘lows ter igi bags up with me, fer I’m hungry esa ar ‘*Gut any whisk’ left, oy, “*Bout half a bottle. An’ thet ’minds me, I’m dead sot fer a drink. My teeth air all on edge with bankerin’ fer sometbin’. Glad yer spoke of bit. Hyer, take a snifter!” Bill passed the bottle to his pard, who drank, after roposing, a8 an appropriate sentiment; yer’s hopin’ we'll make a heap outen this ventur’! [opine we'll cl’ar a pile, ef we gits ther gal ’cross ther Grandee.” Bill echoed this, continuing, as he replaced the bottle in his saddle-bags: ““Ye’re mighty right, pard; an’ bit’s "bout time we-’uns scooped in some rhino, an’ hed a show ter buck et monte. This oe gal air jist ther card fer some high-fiy Castilian cuss, with plenty 0’ rocks; an’ we'll strike him, yer bet!” ‘No more chin!” cautioned Lije: ‘‘come on! We mus'n’t fergit thet thar’s mos’ likely some howlin’ mad cusses on our trail. Keep a flyin’, an’ gi’n yer red dee ann job 0’ gazin’ ahead!” Both spurred d oa} and with snorts of pain, the horses bounded headlong amid the oaks: oor Dora soon recovering her consciousness, to be terrified and tortured with dread despair, at finding herself in the power of the repulsive- looking ruffians, bound and gagged, and being borne, she knew not whither. She strove to shriek, to give vent to the anguish, and misery, and horror, that ruled her; but, only a choking, gurgling sound es- caped her. The poor girl gave herself up for lost, She seo not where she was, in what direc- tion she was being conveyed, or what length of _ time had passed since sbe had been captured. ' The near past bad at once, been brought very plainly and forcibly to mind, upon ber having first regained consciousness. The form and face of Stephen Speed had been indelibly imprinted upon ber mind; his words echoed in her ears, and her heart overflowed with love and gratitude to bim,. She was con- fident that the young scout would do allin his power toward her rescue; but, deeply she re- gretted that she had not called bim back. She felt that Stephen would blame himself for having left her alone, but this would spur him on to her rescue; he would follow the trail, regardless of any other consideration. Then she began to feel anxious iu regard to the reception the scout would, in al) probability, receive at her father’s camp. The latter, she knew, would be grateful to him beyond measure; but there was one at the camp, the mere thought of whom made her shudder, who would be anything but pleased when he knew that this handsome young man had earned her friendship and gratitude, Then came the bitterest thought of all. When Stephen should guide her father and others to the motte, expecting to meet ber, and she not there! They might think the young stranger in league with the abductors; ay, the prime mover in the plot. From the fact that he bad gone to the camp after ber borse, such a suspicion ought not to be for a moment entertained; yet, all the same, they might fail to take, in their excite. ment, any reasonable view of the matter. The man, ‘of whom she had just thought, would exult in accusing Stephen Speed. And the thought of this man was revolting. Dora felt that she had far rather be in the power of the miscreants, who now held her at their mercy, than to be alone and unprotected with her evil genius; the man whose power over her father was a mystery she had in vain striven to fathom, even when she begged ne parent, upon ber knees, for an .explana- ion. But the scout, she reflected, appeated to be well able to take care of himself. He could easily prove the falsity of any ac- cusation as to his complicity with her ab- —e and he woud insist on following her trai The headlong speed at which her captors traveled, bearing ber at every bound further and further from all she loved, toward a fate of which she dared not even think—this, too, flashed through her mind: would it not be im- possible for any one to follow, except slowly? And if so, would not her captors have an oppor- tunity to ‘proceed such a distance as would foil every attempt at a rescue? Such reasonings were not calculated to lessen the poor girl’s anxiety and terror. After a time the two wretches turned ab- ruptly, and Dora soon realized that she was hore the dense, towering timber of the Guad- alupe, She knew then that she could not have re- mained long unconscious, and was soniewhat relieved in mind at the thought; but soon she was again plunged into hopeless despair by the assertions of the miscreants to each other that the keenest-eyed Apache brave could He detect the hiding-place they proposed to see Very soon she was laid blindfolded witbin a thicket, and then she heard the pair de- part with the horses, and knew that they were now about to take such precautions as would cause it to be impossible for any trailer to dis- cover them. Poor Dora was almost distracted. How long she lay thus, she could not tell; but she was further tortured by havin rope secured beneath her arms: around ‘2 body, and then borne from her resting-place some distance, when she was again placed on the earth. This was only fora few moments. Then she was beld high, in the arms of one of the das- tards, while the other, by the rope that had been attached to her body, drew her up in the air. She could hear the low orders of one to the other, and the sounds of their boots on the limbs of the trees, as they climbed upward; she hanging, she knew not how high from the earth, at times stationary, but soon to be drawu upw ard again, until she became faint with pain and fright, expecting each moment to fall down- ward, and be dashed to death on the ground, or to pieces, falling through the branches and un- dergrowth. She felt relief immeasurable upon being placed ina 5 eka eee comfortable péuition: evidently in the crotch between oy huge branches, which formed a roomy and easy re- clining space, into which, as Dora knew by the feeling, the miscreants ‘had cast a quantity of ihe that had been torn from the adjacent imbs, Her captors then climbed to a different posi- tion, but not far distant, for the maiden could hear them conversing in hoarse whispers, and the scent of whisky floated to her nostrils, re- gardless of the filthy handkerchief that was tied about her head, and filled her with nausea and deep disgust, v4 Greatly relieved was the poor irda. srdksebieliasah aahtbk aaiaie: <dk Atendae 4 Seed ici Aig '<hks cs inmates “tleatos when one of ber captors advanced over the limbs, and removed this bandage which had almost suf- focated her, besides preventing ber from seeing anything which transpired, or even her sur- roundings. As the kerchief was removed, Dora saw that she was not far from the topmost branches of an immense tree; certainly far up from the earth; and she congratulated herself upon the fact that the ruffians bad bound her fast iv that position, causing it. to be impossible for ber to fall from the tree. Thus surrounded, and overshadowed by dense foliage and limbs that were heavily festooned with Spanish moss, lay poor Dora Dale, her sense of hearing strained to the utmest to detect the siightest noise in the thick, dark shades around her. And thus will we, for the present, leave her. The whisperings of her viliainous captors, the flutter of the leaves, the sighing of the breeze among the swayiug moss, the creaking of the branches, and the song of birds—these were now the only sounds that reached her attentive ears. CHAPTER VIII. THE SNAKE IN THE GRASS. Wuen Bob Barr left his employer, Major Dale, after having discovered the trail of the count, be dashed into a dense motte, disappear- ing from the view of the old planter. Bob, after discovering the scout some distance off, upon the trail of the abductors, and noticing that the course of Steve was eastward, or down the river, decided, without a moment’s hesita- tion, that he would take a band in the gam his reasons for so doing being the discovery of the trail of Count Broquier, which took a paral- le] course with that of the abductors. Bob well knew that the count bad not seen the latter, and consequently he bad proceeded down the river for no other reason than that he had detected the course taken by Steve From what had passed, taking the character of Broquier into consideration, the teamster, who was far from being wauting in acuteness, made up his mind that the couet was bent upon taking revenge upon the young scout. He would, doubtless, if WA raped offered, gain a position in some thicket, which Steve's evident course would lead bim past, and then shoot him from the covert. The grass, at that distatce from the river, was quite short; and it would not be difficult for the count to make a detour and gain a position in advance of Steve. Thus reasoned Bob, and as he was determined to prevent the assassination of the young scout, and knew that be could not proceed with any security from observation when mounted, he quickly sprung to the earth, loosened the. girth of his saddle, —— the bridle and bung it on his saddle-horn then led bis borse out from the west side of the motte, heading the animal toward the ford; knowing that the beast would seek the camp when satisfied with grazing. This done, Bob Barr was ready. He then looked to his revolver, saw that it was in order, and stole down amid the oaks. To his surprise, the teamster found, upon search, that there was no signof the trail of the count; and he concluded that the latter had arisen’ to his feet and ran toward the river, doubtless to gain the thick timber, witbin which he could run at full speed, witbout the danger of being seen by bis intended victim. Bob, therefore, decided to turn to the river- bottom and proceed slowly along the verge of the undergrowth, clesely watching and listen- in ie had heard every word that had been uttered by Steve, and had been somewbat sur- prised to find that the scout entertained exactly the same opinions that be did in regard to the count. ‘That the latter was a cowardly and designing villain, who held some unaccountable power over the major, and whicb he intended to use to the fullest extent—even to demanding tbe hand of Dora Dale—bad been for some time evident to the teamster. But he had kept bis eyes open, and had been greatly rejoiced at the arrival of Siempede Steve, and the young man’§ esti- mate and treatment of Broquier. He now, therefore, made a mental vow that be would prevent ali barm to Steve, if possible, tbus increasing the chances of Dora’s rescue. Certainly, i doomed. The young scout had sworn to rescue ber, and to prove the perfidious character of the count; and Bob resolved to assist the young scout in fulfilling bis oath. He felt that tue lives of both Steve and Dora depended upon him. and consequently he brought all bis ener- gies to the front, and strained utmost to balk the fiendish villain But we will now leave Bob Barr p warily on his self-imposed mission, and return to one on whom we must keep watch, Count Biron Broquier. The count’s first intention had been to gallop to the bottom-timber, and there watch the - JOO Eomice S if Steve should be slain, Dora was is senses to the , red . +29 * < inte » _