Beadle's Dime Library No. 317 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

eee SS oe Frank of the young man, and pressing it warmly, poured forth her thanks as only a graceful, well-bred woman can, without making both her- self and the recipient uncomfortable. As it was, the young athlete seemed strangely anxi- ous to tear himself away, and with a few mut- tered expressions, he vanished as suddenly as he had appeared. ‘“ A well-appearing young fellow, child,” said the mine-owner, in a somewhat tale bene | tone. ‘ Really, I must keep an eye on him. may manpage to put something worth while in his way, if he proves to be as worthy as he is bold.” Before Mora could make any answer, there came the quick pounding of hoofs, and a borse- man swept up to their side, dimly revealed by the starlight. With a little ery Mora shrunk back from him, and no wonder! Dressed in tight-fitting garments, with the horns, tail and cloven feet popularly attributed to the fonl fiend, the new-comer flung a ball of fire at their feet, laughing long and loud at the maiden’s terror. With an angry exclamation Jeter Burgess kicked the ball away, only to go down from a crushing blow on the bead, while Mora was caught up in the arms of the mad rider, His wild laugh was mingled with her scream of mingled fear and pain; then the white horse dashed swiftly away along the very verge of the canyon, a score bounds carrying it and its double burden into the moonlight where they were plainly visible to the startled and confused revelers. As the demon rider turned to send back a taunting yell, Mora freed her lips from the heavy hand, and sent out a wild appeal for help. And in answer came two swiftly-successive shots from the darkness, With a dying scream the horse plunged head- long, burling its riders over its head. They reeled for a moment on the verge, then, witha wild ecream, both disappeared from view! CHAPTER VI. EVERY INCH A MAN, FRANK LIGHTFOOT exhibited far more awk- wardness in retreating from this wholly unex- pected interview with Jeter Burgess and bis fair daughter, than be had displayed in baffling the boisterous attack of the revelers; yet he did not seem one to be frightened by bright eyes and a sweet voice, and his face had flatly belied him that dav if its owner did not feel a more than common interest in the fair maid, He was breathing quick and hard when he reached cover, and pausing, glanced back to- ward those whom he bad left so abruptly. His hands clinched tightly, and he seemed to be do- ing battle with some powerful emotion. From where he now stood the figures of Jeter Burgess and his daughter were barely visible, and would probably bave passed wholly unseen unless by one who knew just where to look and what for, Yet Frank Lightfoot singled them out from the surrounding shadows, and his keen eyes were able to distinguish the form of Mora from that of the mine-owner. ““T won't believe it!” be muttered, sullenly fighting against his own convictions. ‘ Sucha charming flower cannot spring from a root so corrupt, Mora--my innocent darling, my light, my love! She the daughter of the wretch whom I have so solemnly s‘vorn to hunt down to the lows? She the offspring of the accused fra- ide—of William Courtright? Bah!” with a low, bitter laugh of self-contempt; ‘‘ long brood- ing over the dark past has unsettled my brain, and I see ghastly phantoms where none exist in reality. To-morrow—” The abrupt eppearance of that diabolically- arrayed rider before the two beings on whom he was gazing with such tumultuous thoughts, gave another direction to the turbid current; and with a vague idea that the woman, whom he had learned to love as he once believed he could never love, might rquire the protection of his strong arm, Frank Lightfoot moved slow- ly toward the spot, He saw the ball of fire leave the hand of the mock Mephistopheles, and a short, angry e¢x- clamation aT eal his lips as he sprung forward to the rescue. Not that he thought any danger, beyond a little annoyance, threatened the mine-cwner and his daughter. He, naturally enough, imarined this cunningly disguised shape was one of the Fantastics, wbom liquor aud ex- citement bad caused to forget for a moment the respect due to the gentler sex. Unfortunately, in the darkness his foot was caught by a trail- ing vine, and be fell heavily forward upon bis bands and knees. And before he could recover himself, the dastard blow was delivered that sent Jeter Burgess reeling to the ground, the oa form of Mora was caught to the red breast of the andacious rider, the good horse sprung avay, and back came that taunting laugh. But Frank Lightfoot caught the terrified scream which escaped the lips of the maiden as the diavolical borseman snatched her from the ground, and leaping to his feet be glared madly around. Only for aninustant, Then he caught sight of the white horse and its double burden just as they passed from tbe gloom into the clear ligbt of the moon, racing along recklessly | close to the edge of the canyon. And then the red rider turned to mock the stupefied revelers —then the poor girl managed to free her lips long enough to utter that wild appeal for help! ven while rising, the right hand of Frank Lightfoot armed itself mechanically, and now his actions were swift as thought and unerring as fate itself. Upand forward shot bis hand, and though the best of marksmen, the strongest nerved might well have hesitated before risking a shot at that distance and in that uncertain light, not so with him. hat one comprehensive glance had shown him the prostrate form of Jeter Burgess, lying like one dead. He knew that this could be no idle exploit of a drunken reveler, and instinct told him that Mora Burgess was in deadly peril, if not of death, of a fate still more to be dreaded, He knew that a score more bounds of that good horse would carry the bold abductor across the space of moonlight, and once in the gloom, well mounted, escape for the villain would be only too sure, Swift reflections such as these lent him de- cision and steadied his neryes, and coolly as though firing at an inanimate target, Frank Lightfoot sent his lead on its mission. But even his marvelous nerve failed him for an instant as he witnessed t2e result of those desperate shots. He saw the white horse plunge forward, death-stricken; be saw the red-garbed rider, still clasping the form of the maiden to his breast, burled over the head of the dying beast, alighting on his feet, only to reel and totter, then, casting the maiden aside as though hoping to save himself by sacrificing her, fall over the escarpment with a wild yell of rage and terror! And a choking groan burst from the lips of the young man as he saw the form of the maid- en, who he now knew to be dearer far to him than life itself, strike on the very verge of the abyss, then slip over, to almost certain death! ‘*Merciful Father!” be gasped, covering his eyes, and shuddering violently, ‘‘I have slain instead of saving her!” But only for an instant did this weakness last. Then the young man leaped forward and rained the spot where he had lost sight of the girl, as he feared forever. He knelt on the edge of the canyon wall and looked over, only to almost Jose his senses and tumble headlong down to the whirling waters far below—for there, hanging toa small clump of vines and bushes, he beheld Mora Burgess, her pale face upturned, her eyes fixed aprealingly upon bis. ** Alive!—not dead! Fatber in heaven, I thank Thee!” broke impulsively from his lips as be made this truly astounding discovery, and there isno saying to what pitch bis joy might have mounted, only for the appeal which came faintly from the lips of the endangered maiden: ‘*Help! My strength is failing—l will fall— help!” “Hold fast, for your life!” he cried in return, brought back to earth by that imploring sound, ‘*Hold fast but for one little minute, and Pll Save you, my darling)” He hardly knew what he was saying, but none the less were his wits busily at work. He saw that the maiden was suspended wholly by her arms, some twenty feet below the escarp- ment, and that there was nothing to break her fall save the whirling waters far below. A backward glance showed bim the dead horse, as well as that not one of the revelers were as yet coming to the rescue. Startled, confused, the majority of them be- lieved this but a portion of the wild sport in which they themselves were engaged, while those who did realize that something tragic was passing before their eyes, were so taken by sur- prise that they knew not what to do first. Frank Lightfoot leaped back to where the white horse was lying, a dozen feet from the escarpment, snatching the coil of rope from where it hung at the saddle-bow. He saw that the slip-nooss was firmly closed around the horn, and only pausing to shout to the startled spectators, be leaped back to the canyon, drop- ping over it feet foremost, letting the rope sl:p through his hands as be looked below to guide bis descent. Those wild, terrified eyes beheld bis bold ac- tion, and as he rapidly descended to her level, the r girl gasped; = hank Soave! tam— Mercy!” Her strength was failing her. The frail bush slipped a few inches through her hands, and only the fear of the frightful fall kept her from entirely losing her bold. As it was, despair en- abled her to maintain her weightand cbeck her descent, hut it could only last a moment. Frank Lightfoot realized this by instinct, and his movements were swift as thought. With one turn of the lasso round his leg, and bending his other leg around both, be could make use of his bands for a few moments without great danger of falling. And swiftly passing the doubled rope around the bedy of the maiden, directly beneath her arm-pits, he knotted the lasso firmly—just in time. With a faint, indistinct murmur, the senses of the overtried girl gave way, and she hung a lifeless weight on his hend:, almost tearing bim from lis precarious Lud aud burling Lim Lightfoot, the Miner Detective. V—_—_—_——S- Co sts -——_—.—s cr —EE —~ -— _— $e down to meet his death in the whirling waters below! Swiftly yet steadily he suffered the rope to pass through his bands until the maiden bung at the end, ber weight causing the slender rope to cut painfully into the flesh of bis leg. his own weight being added to the strain. Grasping the rope with bis hands as he straightened up again, Frank Lightfoot soon succeeded in ex- tricating bis limb, but as be did so, bis heart seemed to leap up into his very throat, He felt the rope gradually giving and himself slowly descending the face of the canyon wall. He knew that their united weight was draggin the carcass of the horse over the smooth roc ov which it rested. He remembered, now, that the rock inclined toward the escarpment, and this fact accounted for the curious circumstance, for otherwise double their united weight could not bave moved the dead animal. Uttering a loud cry for aid, he glanced swift- ly around him, and fearing to delay a moment, he reached out and caught bold of the only support that was within reach just then; a scrubby cedar whose roots seemed to pierce the solid rock, for assuredly there was not the slightest trace of soil to be seen at that point, Under any less critical circumstances, Light- foot would have hesitated long before trusting his life to such a frail support, but he only paused long enough to give the bush one heavy tug, then released bis bold on the rope and swung himself to the left, directly beneath the cedar, uttering a silent thanksgiving as a keen look assured him that the rope now remained stationary, no longer descending with iis pre- cious burden. A slight crackling sound close above bis head called his attention to his own support, and be instinctively reached out one hand and caugbt the rope as he felt that his weight was too severely testing the powers of the cedar bush. Thus distributing bis weight, be carefully moved bis feet over the nearly smooth face of the canyon wall, seeking for a support to which he might trust himself. And brave, strong- nerved though he undoubtedly was, he gave a long breath of relief as the toe of one hoot found a narrow resting-place on a projecting point of rock. Once more he raised bis voice in an appeal to the demoralized revelers, bidding them make haste to rescue the ladv from her still perilous position. But the words were rendered cim and indistinct to even his own ears by the roar- ing of the waters below, as they tumbled and eddied, whirled and cbhafed against their rocky . boundaries both above and below. And witha weird curiosity which be could not master for the moment, be twisted bis neck until he could gaza down upon them. At this poiot the wall of the canyon, if any- thing, leant inward as it descended to the water. Directly beluw tbe point where two lives depended wpon such frail hopes, the river form:d an oval pool, the moonlight dimly re- vealing the foam-specked water as it whirled repidiy round and round before shooting through the slighty narrowing passage below. It was not a comforting sight, and with @ little chill of apprehension, Frank Lightfoot once more lifted his eyes, gathering his breath for another shout. But it burst forth in a cry of joy as his eyes caught sigbt of bumen faces peering over the escarpment, and he shouted: ‘Catch hold of the rope and draw the lady up—carefully! Ste bas fainted, and is unable to he!p herself,” So inte: se was bis relief that he could not belp laughing aloud as he saw the looks of stupefied amazement on the unmasked faces of the revel- ers, and caught their exclamations of bewildered wonder. And releasing his bold of the rope, he trusted his entire weigot to the frail cedar and the rocky projection on which one toe r: sted, Once more be cried aloud for them to make haste, ‘Pull on the rope—cerefnlly, or you'll injure the lady against the rocks! Save her, then lower tbe rope for me. Lively lads, if you know the meaning of such a term!” There was some excuse for this impatient doubt. Even now the men above, the majority of whom were too full of strong liquor to have full possession of their wits, seemed unable to comprehend how much rested on their prompt action, and it was only when the busky voice of Uncle Fuller shamed them into action, that the rope with its fair burden began to crawl up the face of the rock. As it did so, the body swung around, and to avoid being bit by it, Frank Lightfoot swerved suddenly to one side, A low cry escaped his lips as he felt the point of rock crumble and give way, bringing his whole weight upon the frail cedar, which snapped end crackled as though being torn from its support. Instinctively he reached out one hand to clutch the rope, but he was too late. Alread the body of the maiden was on a level with his head. He could have clasped her waist—might have clung to her ankles and thus been saved; but with a true maphood he resisted the tempta- tion until it was too late, ‘*Lvely, lads!” be cried, sharply. ‘I can't hold out—” . 9\(0)(0)| ,<S3 eom (E (E(0)