Beadle's Dime Library No. 297 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

a —< STS THT SE a a," - a i , to ‘‘Cyrus Mumford, Private ;” and this letter was brought to him at his house after he had finished office work. The mayor had a pleasant home, over which Zetta Willis presided with rare judgment for one of her years, and it was the most notable residence, all things considered, of which Hot- spur City could boast. Mumford was the rich man of the young city, and though be had no desire to dazzle his neighbors, he did have a de- sire to be surrounded with a considerable degree of comfort. Still, he was accustomed to assert that the only luxury he allowed bimself was his de- ceased sister’s daughter—Zetta. She was sitting opposite to bim when he care- lessly picked up the letter and read it, but she | was busy over her work and did not notice the varying shades of emotion with which he read. Written in a bold, masculine band, the letter was as follows: “Cyrus Mumrorp, Esq., Mayor of Hotspur City :— ‘‘Dear Srr:—Information having reached me of the events attending your inauguration as chief executive officer, the mention of another name re- calls to my recollection circumstances far from being to the credit of your chief clerk, Reuben Ral- ston. What do you know of the man? Nothing, I as though he was a phantom. conclude, except that he came to Hotspur a year or | so ago, and that by his smooth way of speaking, in- sidious arts and personal prowess he has made you and your friends think well of him. prowess, I admit; like many other Western despera- which nothing can surpass or subdue. ‘* But. in his fight with the man named Buzzard, I must insist that the greater ruffian won. Whois this so-called ‘Colorado Rube?’ A man known in Texas, New Mexico and Arizona swindler and cut-throat, outlawed repeatedly for the The personal | = 2 i i a. . = 2 “4 ‘ P :s a oP, *) is “ 4 ‘ a he i , 7 7 Rube. At the same time he was troubling himself thus, a man was hovering around Colorado Rube’s house, now hiding in the shadow of a Colorado as the peaks of the Rocky Mountains in their places. She was becoming nervous at the delay, too, tree, anon walking near the building, but seem- | for she had ostensibly gone to her room and ing to take great care that he was not observed | Rube or his wife might discover her where she by any of the inmates. The prowler was Neal Bishop. Several times be had tried to gain a view of the room where a light told bim the family was assembled, but a curtain prevented bim from doing so, and he moved about like a small vessel watching for a chance to close with a larger one, For perhaps the tenth time he bad thrust his face near to the window, to try the old attempt over again, when the curtain was brushed aside and he stood face to face with bis sister. For a moment neither stirred. The gay smile faded from Miss Fenton’s face, giving place to a look of anger and alarm, and she stared at Neal His folly and bravado in thus hovering around her were almost beyond belief. Recovering herself, she made an imperious gesture for him to go away, but a dogged «xpression came to his face and he answered with a motion bidding her to join him outside. For an instant she was at a loss; sbe had al- ways been the stronger-minded and more resolute of the two, but she thought he was just in the mood to invade the house and ma demand to see her, if nothing more, and that does. he possesses a skill for fighting, and a courage | as a gambler, | first-named predilection, hunted as a road-agent, | and despised of honest men, he has seen fit to go to Colorado. where he is unknown, and, under a false name, to ‘lay low’ for awhile. What is now his game? Has he reformed? does not change his spots. No; he has some deep game which will result to his own gain and to Hot- spurs sorrow, “T feel it my duty to notify you just what this manis. In one sense of the word, I have no interest in the matter, for Hotspur City is its own master; but it seems a pity that the gambler and road-agent of the southern trail should impose on honest men. Hence, this warning, ‘‘T remain, Mayor Mumford, yours very truly, * WARREN FE, BLAISDELL.”’ Just as the mayor finished reading Zetta chaneed to look up, and the amazed and dis- gusted expression on his face at once arrested her attention, ‘‘ Are the perplexities of office beginning so soon?’ she asked, smiling. ‘‘Read tbat!’ answered Mumford, throwing the letter to his niece. He had obeyed an impulse in so doing, and as is usually the case, regretted it soon after, But, as Zetta had begun, he let ber finish, and then, as she looked up with an expression of indigna- tion, grimly asked: ‘What do you think of it?’ ‘*Think! Idon’t believe a word of it,” the girl quickly said. ‘The charge is explicit enough.” “ And false enough, too, I know. Who is Warren E. Blaisdell, and why didn’t he come here to muke his charge, if he really knew aught not to Mr. Ralston’s credit?” ‘*My dear, you should have beena lawyer; your mind has grasped the main points of the case at one bound. This letter is equivalent to Rubbish! the leopard | would be a misfortune not easily explained away. So she nodded in reply to bis motion and dropped the curtain. He went a little back to the shadow of a tree and stood looking gloomily at the house. ‘‘She has found fine quarters, Well, it’s the way of the world. She, who is unscrupulous and plotting, is the favorite of fortune, while I, who would gladly be an honest man, am like a foot-ball. That’s the justice of the world!” He ground his heel discontentedly into the | ground, though he was really conscious that he had only to desert the fortunes of bis unscrupu- lous sister, and go where he was unknown, to | begin life anew without the incubus of the past about his neck. His desire to reform her might prove bis ruin et. Not much time was given him to think of it then, for the door opened, and Mildred, wrapped | one thought of suspecting a crooked purpose in a dark shawl, came swiftly toward him. CHAPTER X. JOHN BRODERICK’S EVENTFUL ENCOUNTER, It would be time Jost to try to analyze Neal Bishop’s nature and course. . would say he was a fool to continue faithful to a woman so low in the scale of honor as Mil- dred: others would admire him for his true, an anonymous letter—the weapon of the coward | and rascal. It does not tell where Blaisdell is to be found, nor does it say he will appear to prove what he asserts, It is the work of some “oaagemagh enemy of my worthy secretary—possi- ) ly it emanated from the Buzzard brothers, | possibly from a member of the defeated party of the late election, who is not satisfied with the compromise. You may burn it, Zetta.” ‘‘Shall you mention it to Mr. Ralston?” ‘Certainly not.” ‘‘ Let me preserveit. I willsee that it does not fall into hands hostile to Mr. Ralston, and if the writer should continue his work, it may be of use.” Mr. Mumford agreed to this plan, and en- deavored to forget the matter, but it hovered pertinaciously in his mind, He had a good deal of confidence in Ralston, but when he had meditated more carefully, he found himself ask- ing several practical questions. bat did he really know about bis secretary? Very little. Something like a year before, the young man had come to Hotspur; since he had been there be had conducted bimself like an honest man and made many friends. People had always thought well of him—since he worsted Bill Buzzard he had been the idol of the city—and no one had questioned him con- cerning bis past. Colorado Rube had alluded to it in a casual way, and Mumford now remembered tkat he bad acknowledged familiarity with the very locality where the unknown writer asserted he had figured as a road-agent and gambler. This, bowever, proved nothing against bim; Mumford was generous enough to believe just the reverse; but, like all accusations stealthily planted, it bovered in his mind whether he wou. forget it or not. Twat sae = ‘ ; + nee * — mn though misplaced, devotion, but, in any Case, he could not forget that she was the sister with whom he had played in his childhood, and he would not leave her while a bope remained, She came rapidly toward the tree, and then, seeing bim, made an angry gesture. ‘‘ Jn Heaven’s name, what are you doing here? Can’t I enjoy a quiet evening without your coming and skulking around the house like a tramp?” Whatever her brother’s failings, Miss Fenton was plainly practical enough. ‘‘That’s it!” he retorted, bitterly. call me by a good name. I have sunk to the level of a tramp—” ‘Did you come here to tell such stale news?” No. I came tospeak to you about your- self.” ‘*Do you see that light yonder?” sé Yes,” ‘“Itis thatof the Old Rye Hotel. i advise you fo turn your face toward it and follow your nose for about. five minutes.” ‘‘Be careful, Mildred,” he said, hoarsely. ‘‘ Your bitterness may cause the worm to turn, at last, and when you want a friend you may wish for one in vaio.” ‘Heaven forbid that I should seek such a one as you.” “T know your scorn and contempt, but I am not so easily turned from my purpose. resolved to save you from Jobn Broderick, if such a thing is possible. Listen to me, Mildred, before it is too late. Why will you follow the fortunes of a man whose every bour is devoted to evil scheming? Leave him and—” ‘‘Leave him for you? Never! 1am heartily tired of your sentimental whining. Will you never stop it? Let usunderstand each other to- night. Our paths lie in different directions. I want no more to do with you, for we are not of patures that assimilate. Go your way and I will go mine,” ‘* Mildred—” _ “T tell ps I will not listen to your preach- ing!” cried the girl, stamping her foot. ‘* You are no brother of mine. I despise you, and I cast youoff. Isthat plainevough? Now, leave me and never return!” Bishop was silent for a moment, but, though be felt that argument was useless, be soon re- newed his efforts and tnade an earnest appeal, It was in vain; she was as fixed in her purpos¢ : 4 ' ? Some people | ‘You | am | Colorado Rube out of existence.” — —— | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | ty: 7 oor | . rata 4 ty a. Debio el se SORE SS NORE Ar | with them. _ mental ability, and their vendetta agate Ral- was, and she proceeded to bring the interview to an unceremonious end. For once, Neal responded in a way which pleased ber. He despaired of accomplishing his object, and he said as much, adding that he would leave Hot- spur City and never trouble her again. Nothing he could have said would have pleased her more, and they separated in an ex- tremely practical way. Bishop was sufficiently angry tv waste no fine words, but he gave ber his hand and turned away. When he had gone a few yards he turned and looked back, but she was already entering the house and what he had to say remainea un- spoken. As he strode down the street be did not notice a man who was looking sharply out from the cover of a tree, but he was seen and promptly followed. ‘‘Thar’s them ez wouldn’t have s’posed Rube’s gal pard would git a lover so quick,” muttered the pursuer, ‘‘but beauty will tell. ‘ Youth’s bright lexicon knows no sech word ez fail,’ ez Socrates used fer ter obsarve.” The speaker was Makepeace Mullin, and he followed Bishop to the saloon of the Old Rye and there, by the light of the place, succeeded in recognizing him. Unsuspicious that he bad been followed, Neal went to the bar, called fora glass of whisky avd swallowed it with a reckless air. He was not even a moderate drinker, but on this night he felt as though it mattered very little what he did, or even whether he lived. ‘‘Reckon he got ther mitten,” thought Make- peace, reading him well, ‘‘Ez Socrates used fer ter obsarve, ‘ Ther course 0’ trne love always runs tempestuous.’ Wal, Um sorry fur bim, | but I can’t help in ther game, so I reckon [ll keep out on’t.” Broderick was playing a careful waiting game. He showed no interest in Colorado Rube, and, thus far, no one bad suspected that he so much as knew Mildred Fenton. There was really no risk in his being on the scene of action, unless Neal Bishop betrayed him, for men came and went at the border city and no if they mentioned no fair one, Greatly to the plotter’s relief he saw Bishop | take the stage away from Hotspur the following morning, and, though he did not venture to question him, he boped he would not reappear. if he did, and became dangerous, Broderick was resolved to silence him once and forever. Shortly after the stage departed, Broderick wandered outside the village for a ramble. Hotspur was rich in mountain scenery, At the east the tall, frowning mountains presented a barrier which no man’s gaze could pierce, while the lessening line of the foothills was wild and attractive. Sugar-Loaf was the most notable feature of the immediate vicinity, but, to the east of it, the smaller elevation of Bull’s Head furnished the wildest, most intricate Specimen of Nature’s grim facetiousness; 1t was iterally rock piled upon rock, without form or order, Broderick bad no desire to explore either of these places, but finding a suitable place he finally sat down and found his gaze fixed on Buzzard’s Roost. The little house on Sugar-Loaf’s ton was a mystery to Hotspur City. Only Y smford, Ralston and bis wife had ever been there. The remainder of the citizens looked upon it ouch as tne: good people of fairy tales were sai’ to re- gard the castles in which dwelt evil anusayste- rious giants. The Buzzards were both figur- aavey and literally the giants of Hotspur ity. ‘* Desperate fellows,” thought Broderick, ‘* but the time may come when I shall join hands { take it they are men of small ston may not go on to their gain. tat they | need is a shrewd head like mine to direc them. If I fail in other ways, I may yet ally myself with the Buzzards, and get their aid to wipe His meditations were interrupted as tle sound of a horse’s hoofs reached his ears. Just beyond him was the stage-road, and he comprvbended that some one was taking a gallop along the trail, but why be moved along so that! « could see the rider he bardly knew. | Standing on the low ridge which bordered the trail, he looked down and saw the horse and rider. His interest was at once aroused, The rider was a lady, and under his cold, skeptical exterior be had a fancy for the sex, If he bad been interested at first, he was doubly so when the equestrienne came nearer, He saw agirl of a degree of loveliness be had not believed Hotspur City capable of producing, and his gaze became riveted on her face with deep admiration. med Tne rider was Zetta Willis, who had a strong fancy for such amusement and was often seen in the saddle; but, unconscious of the watcher, she galloped past without turping her bead, O 900K NIE * =