Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 303 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

ap ee a ll 34 ed * —e <a 2 — - “sF-% i= * “— ee. ae eae —_ ers hat - i — = ee ee e aa -~ $s - - = My 4 : = > ae 18 whole amount of his fortune was safe enough for the appearance of the outlaw at bis trial. He entered into close confab with Levy on the a and, by the time they had settled it, the White Elephant was richer by several bottles of whisky, sold. CHAPTER XXL HANK’S TRIBULATIONS. THe Collingsworth Ranch lay peacefully in the long shadows of the sinking sun, three days after the arrival of Top Notch Tom. The young outlaw, with more of the look of a quiet rancher than the desperado be was supposed to be, sat on the broad veranda with his wife, whose face had resumed its wonted brightness. They had carefully concealed from her that Tom had been, or was still, in any danger; and she imagined that he had come home for good; which was enough to make her happy. She was reclining in a bammock, while he was sitting beside her, and there was no one else on the piazza, though there were plenty of men within call; for the judge bad taken Hank the Nailer’s advice, and fortified the ranch- house, in e tation of a siege at night. It was built of logs, that would turn a bullet; and had been constructed when the first settlers of Satanta county were exposed to attacks from roving bands of Indians, escaped from their reservations, on the hunt for scalps and plunder. It was therefore easy to put it in a position of defense. The windows were provided with heavy shut- ters that could be closed, leaving only loopholes for the insertion of rifles; and the angles of the upper stories projected over the lower ones, so that the defenders could command the base of the house from all sides. So far they had had no occasion for any alarm from tbe cattle-company, whose men had received orders to leave the ranchers alone till the case was settled in court; but there was no telling what night the company’s men might raise a lynching party in the town, which they were plying freely with whisky, and precau- tions were in order. Diana had been talking to ber husband in the usual sweet nothings that mark the intercourse of people who have not yet lived out the honey- moon, and she had dropped into a doze with her hand in that of her young husband. He had relapsed into a thoughtful mood, for he had had his part to play in the deception that was practiced to keep Diana from any asec ayo = hurt coms a and was thinking gloomily enough o Ss prospects, in face of She affidavits that had been sworn to against him, when he saw a horseman coming to the ranch, and recognized the figure of the Marshal of Satanstown. Hank, the Nailer, was dressed and armed as usual; and Tom, with a glance at bis sleeping wife, rose softly from his seat and went out to see him. The young man had given up his arms, since he had been remanded to the custody of his father-in-law, and his face wore a look of anx- iety, as he advanced; for he thought Hank had come to re-arrest him. He took care to get out of earshot of the house before the marshal came Ups and, as soon as the Nailer pulled up beside him, greet- ed him with the question: ‘Well; whatisit? Do you want me, Hank?” Hank shook his head. ‘““No; that ain’t nene of my biz We used to be friends: didn’t we? “We did; but” The young man’s face had assumed an air of constraint that showed he did not desire to say anyth'ng further; but Hank at once inter- naow, Tom. “ But ye don’t think we air naow; ain’t that ‘Well, if you ask me, I must say that you were the last man I thought would go to work to hunt me down, as you did, and take advan- to arrest me, Hank,” eee ot my friendshi nk’s face flushed slightly, as he replied: “Waal, that ain’t what I expected from you, , but Is a man can’t see himself as others see him. I come hyar to say, to the , that the trial comes on to-morrer, and that you will be wanted. That’s all. is he a “You will find him in the corral, I think, with some horses that the men are breaking.” n the marshal, who was looking over his bead, turned ser suddenly; and Tom, curious to find what had occasioned the pallor on the countenance of a man who had never been known to change color before, turned round to the house, and saw Helen Collingsworth, stand- ing at the door, looking at Hank, having come out so silently that no one bad noticed her. Hank, when he saw her, looked as if be would have liked to turn his borse and run, for the lady was vaeee Fe him, in a way that showed she was about address Lim, and Tom could not imagine wbat was her reason for coming out. _ But, when Helen advanced to the edge of the porch, and actually came down the p att ward Hank, his astonishment knew no bounds; Top Notch Tom, the Cowboy Ranger. a a Es LE ‘“ SS — for it was contrary to all the usages of the quiet and modest Helen. Tom had, however, too much confidence in the discretion of his sister-in-law, to attempt to interfere with her; and he withdrew, as Helen came up to the side of the marshal. Hank sat on his horse, not seeming to know what to do, or where to go. His eyes were fixed on those of the girl, with a look as if he were fascinated, and he had not the presence of mind to dismount, till she said: ‘* Mr. Kimble, I should like a few words with you, if you will come into the house.” Then Tom Field stared; for the usually im- passive Hank stammered and trembled, as he answered: ““ Why, cert’nly, Miss Helen; cert’nly.” And then he threw himself from bis horse and followed her into the house, with the docili- ty of a pet dog, the girl’s face wearing am as- pect of freezing dignity, that astonished Tom. The heavy spurs of the marshal, as he went up the steps made such a noise that Diana awoke; and, as she saw him, her face dimpled into a smile, as she said: eet ow, © Mr. Kimble. Will you excuse my rising? I am an invalid, you know.” o see the stalwart marsha! redden and stam- mer awkwardly, as he answered her, was a re- velation to Tom. He had never known that Hank had had any but the most casual acquain- tance with the Collingsworth girls; but bere was proof that they both knew him better than the other ranchers, and that they held him in about the estimation that girls generally hold big, bashful men. But he had no time to ask, when Hank disap- peared in the house, following Helen. Then the young man came to his wife, and asked: “Is Helen acquainted with Hank, so well, that she can ask him into the house?” Diana smiled, as she whispered: ‘‘Hush! they'll hear you. Yes, didn’t you know it? The rest of them came around the house, and bored us to death; but he was the only one had pluck to ask outright for what he wanted.” ‘* And which did be ask?” said Tom, feeling more and more astonished, for he had never dreamed of Hank, in the character of a lover. ‘‘Was it you by any chance?” Diana pinched him softly. ‘* Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not. As if any one could be so silly as to prefer me, when she was around—except you, you stupid old dear. No: he was dead gone on Helen, and she had a sneaking kindness for him, [ thought, at one time.” ‘The deuce she had! I shouldn't have thought it.” ‘* And why not, sir? He was the best of the men; wasn’t he? He is as handsome asa pic- ture of J«piter, with bis glorious beard, and those eyes of his, that look right through one; and, if he talks funny, it is only the accent they ali get into, on the ranches, talking to those cowboys. Hank is not so ignorant as you would think.” : **T think — a to keep ere on or you, my la ou are going ra “+i warty: 7 But what did? Helen have to say to this paragon of perfection?” Diana put her face close to bis ear, to whis- per: | ‘She refused him, and I think she has been a little bit sorry, ever since.” ‘* What makes you think so?” ‘“You mustn’t ask me, Tom. I won’t betra my sister. I think so, and that’s all I shall te ‘Then what the dickens does she want with him, in there?” asked Tom, bewildered. Diana hesitated. “T think,” she said at last, ‘that Helen is going to scold bim for arresting you.” ‘* But she has no right todo anything of the sort,” retorted Tom, with all a man’s readiness to resent interference in his affairs. ‘* That’s my business; not bers. If I thought she was, I’d go in and stop her.” ‘Indeed, you don’t do anything of the sort, sir. If you stir, I shall cry, and the doctor says that I must not be excited, on any account. You are a perfect brute, to think of such a thing. Leave Helen to settle her own affairs, to suit herself,” So Tom was compelled to sit still, and try if he could catch anything of the conversation in the parlor, which opened on the veranda, not very far off, and from which hecould hear the murmur of voices, but nothing distinct. He was disappointed in this, for Helen kept her voice at such a low pitch, while Hank’s re- sponses were actually inaudible, that the young man outside could not tell what transpired in the parlor, till he heard the spurs of the mar- sbal ringing on the floor, as he came clankin out, and saw Helen, with a flushed face, stand- ing at the door of the house, taking leave of him. Hank looked pale, as if he had been suffering agreat struggle in bis mind; but the girl was decidedly angry, and Tom heard her say, as be stood on the top of the steps, bat in band: of a that ‘*T shall remember what the friendshi man is worth, after this, Mr. Kimble, an you are the same as the rest of them.” The Marshal of Satanstown made her no direct answer; but as he turned to go down the steps, he said, with a strange quiver in his voice: ‘‘IT knew ye’d think it hard, Miss Helen, but ye don’t know a man’s feelings. Ef I did what ye asked me, ye’d be the fu’st to be ashamed of me when it was done.” Then be went down the steps to bis horse, and rode slowly away from the house with his head lower than usual, as if he was thinking deeply over what bad been said to him. Tom instantly rushed to Helen and asked her, in a tone of impatience, but low, so that his wife could not bear: “What is the matter? What have you said to him to send him away like that? Do you know that he is the best and truest man in Texas, and that any woman might be honored in knowing him?’ The sudden and impetuous attack confused her, for she stammered: ‘*Tom, what is the matter with you? How dare you speak to me in that way?” And she drew up her slight figure, and tried to look him down. But Tom Field was not the man to give way so easily, and be continued: ‘*Have you been scolding him for arrestin me? Because, if you have, you did wrong. had that out with him already, and I know he rows right and I was wrong. He had to do his uty. ‘‘It was not thaf at all,” retorted Helen, with: the eagerness with which women pick up a trifling advantage in a quarrel with men, espe- cially if they know they are wrong and the man right. ‘‘I didn’t scold him at all, so that’s all you know aboutit, I merely asked bim a favor, and he refused to grantit £ though he had prom- ised to do it, beforeband. Tom screwed up his face, “Hum! You are quite sure he promised without any condition ?” Helen colored deeply. ‘*Haven’t I said so? I declare, you are the most ungrateful man [ ever saw, when I have made al) the quarrel on your account!” ak thought so, Helen; and I tell you frankly that I don’t thank you for it. You must leave me to manage my own affairs. What did you ask him to do?” Helen tossed her head. **] shall not tell ou since you talk that way,, sir. I bid you good-day !” And she swept off in high indignation. CHAPTER XXII. TWO MEN AND ONE WOMAN. AND what was it that Helen had asked of the Marshal of Satanstown, which had provoked this quarrel between people who, up to that time, had been united in harmony? That can only be guessed from the words of the man, when he rose, after a conversation of some few minutes. His face was very pale as he did so, and he said to her, in tones that shook a little: ‘*Miss Helen, ye oughtn’t to ask it of me. Ye know ye ougbtn’t. Anything that ain’t in the line of my ooty, I'll docheerful. If ye want me to resign the owes and go back to the caows, I'll do it, and do it glad, if it gives me a chance. But ef I was to do what ye ask me, naow, ye’d despise me, and I’d desarve it, Miss’ Helen. Ye know it; don’t ye?’ “I don’t know anything of the sort,” she said, her eves flashing, as she rose in her turn, * You are the only man among these ranchers, whom I have ever given a thought to, and you have sworn that you would die for me, if I wished it—” ‘** And so I would,” he interrupted her, in low, eager tones. ‘‘Ob, Miss Helen, if it come to that, ye could say to me: ‘ Hank, go and get. killed for my sake,’ and ye know l’d do it. I didn’t sw’ar it, Miss Helen. I ain’t the man to sw’ar, and I bevn’t b’en, sence I knowed you. You changed me, from a rough boy, with the rest of the boys, to a man that knows he loves a lady, and wants to do bis best to honor her. But, when ye ask me to do that, Miss Helen, ye ask me to show that I’m no man; and that ain’t what I expected of ye.” She had listened to him with a flush on her face that showed she was very angry; and, at. that moment the sound of the soft, musical laugh of her sister in the piazza outside floated into the room, It seemed to nerve her to what she was about to say; for she set her teeth bard, and her face hardened to him, ag she said emphatically; ‘I thank you for your good opinion of me.. You bave told me that J was counseling you to- dishonor, and that is enough. I thought that you were at least a friend of my family, though I never believed that you loved me, I have not asked you to leave your position. I want you there, where you are some use, and can save m sister’s life. “You know, well enough, that if ere Tom is killed, it will kill her, and you now also that be is not guilty. I bave told you. But I do not wish to be dragged. Gomichbooks what I know, ade j (Koy