Beadle's Dime Library No. 327 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

— _— = | iH —-- = owe - -e- SC a TF lee gS = ae a Siew = — *aeatunes > SARS = - *t ral = “sr —_— ae 4 tm gy - . _ - T. - - o ss gS Tae ee _— ~_- - — - 2 20 Mary willingly told all her story faithfull and fully, omitting no detail that she could thi of, and assisted in her narration by the hints and questions of the old lawyer. ‘*T think I understand it quite clearly now,” said he. ‘‘So you believed, and had reason to believe, that Mrs, Jardine intended to leave her property to you. It is strange that she madeno will.’ ‘*T am quite sure that she did make a will,” replied Mary, ‘‘It was drawn by Mr. Wilson, a lawyer of this village, who has since moved to Augusta. It was signed and witnessed, too.” ‘*Of course she is supposed to have destroyed that will. I must speak to Wilson about it. Well, my dear, I have got that down, and now we will pass to another matter. You say that after Mrs. Jardine’s death Julius Muldrow pressed his attentions upon you and wanted to marry you. Had he ever shown any symptoms of that kind during her lifetime?” ‘*Never. He had scarcely treated me even with common politeness.” ‘*So you were forced to the conclusion that he did not really care for you, and had some motive other than love for wishing to marry you. It is a natural conclusion, and I will make a note of it. As for the reports about you—of course you know that there are reports about you.” ‘* Yes, sir,” she answered, with a blush, ** As for those reports, if we can show the innocence of Nick Sanders, they will be silenced at once, as you could not be the accomplice of a man who was not guilty. In the mean time I may do something, with your permission, to stop that sort of talk. Now 1 must go.” Mrs. Lawson and Mary pressed the gentleman to take supper there, and to stay all night. \ “Ish obliged to deny myself that plea- sure,” he replied. ‘‘I have very little time to spare, and must make use of every minute, I leave Cranston in the morning, and shall get back into the woods as soon as possible. But I will call here before I go, and, if you havea letter which you want to send up the river, I will be glad to take it for you.” When the judge left the widow Lawson’s cot- be rahocgg two pleased and grateful hearts be- That night Judge Meacham called on Nathan Allyn at his house. he lawyer felt himself highly honored by a visit from the legal luminary, whom he received in his parlor and treated with the most distin- guished consideration. Perhaps the call might mean political promo- tion for him, or employment in some important and profitable litigation. ** My visit, Mr. Allyn,” said the judge, ‘‘ is en- tirely one of business, and, as 1 am short of time, I trust that you will pardon meif I lay the business before you as briefly as possible.” Surely it must be legal business, in which the village lawyer would be honorably associated with the Augusta magnate. ** State it as concisely as you please, judge. I shall be happy to afford you any assistance in my power.’ ‘* It isa matter that I feel a certain delicacy in mentioning, though I have no doubt that you will at once see the propriety of complyin with a hint which I am about to give you. learn that some damaging reports have been circulated concerning a young lady of this vil- lage, Miss Mary Payson, in connection with the murder of Mrs. Jardine. I am also informed that you have assisted in spreading those re- ports, if you did not originate them.’ Anything of this kind was the last thin Nathan Allyn would have expected to hear, an he was dumfounded. “I don’t say that you did,” continued the judge, ‘‘and I doubt if the origination of the reports could be proved to the satisfaction of a jury. But the repetition of them is equally ac- ionable, and I have been instructed to bring suits for slander. I donot wish any business of that sort, and I hope that I may be able to ami- cably arrange the me resp ot suggesting that ou, as a prominent and uential citizen of mn, can do much to prevent the circula- tion of the reports in question if you are willing to. You will thus do justice to a worthy young lady, and will avoid the possibility of legal com- plications.” : Nathan Allyn knew well that under his velvet words Judge Meacham had a s legal claw concealed, and he accepted the situation at once, climbing down as gracefully as he could. ‘*T have heard of the reports you mention,” said he, ‘‘and I may possibly have spoken of them; but I am naturally very cautious as to what I say. However, as you suggest, if the rts are unjust, I may be able to do some- thing to stop them, and I shall take pleasure in doing so, as the young lady is a friend of yours. ny ning to oblige a brother lawyer, and e ci y 80 distinguished a member of the profes- sion. This was sufficient, and Judge Meacham ended his visit, leaving the lawyer quite crestfallen. The next day Agnes Muldrow received a let- ter, lar in p to the warning that had been given to the lawyer. but couched in the politest terms possible, ally SE Terrapin Dick. After an interview with Nathan Allyn she deemed it advisable to pay strict attention to the admonition of the letter. In the morning, after calling at the widow | | ‘* Don’t believe it, dad,” replied the sharp- sighted lad. ‘‘ He don’t look to me like a Ka- nuck. Id bet my rifle that he is a white man.” When Abner offered to bet his rifle, it was un- Lawson’s cottage and getting a letter for her | derstood that he was absolutely certain of the son, Judge Meacham left Cranston. CHAPTER XXTX. INTO THE DEPTHS. WHEN Hemlock Hank went downward with ~ log which Julius Muldrow had tilted over the he was going to certain and sudden death. Yet he kept his head clear and his nerves | tense, ready to take advantage of any chance | moves! ‘It tips over! It is goin’ to fall!” for safety that might offer, though it seemed to be on possible that such a chance would present itself, As he straddled the end of the log, gazing down into the basin, he had noticed below him a large fir tree, growing out from the face of the rock, There could be nothing better than a fir tree, with its broad branches and abundant leafage, to receive the weight of a falling man. If he could manage to drop into the fir, it would at least break his fall, and pameige he might catch a bough and save himself. These thoughts of course rernere through his brain with the quickness of lightning, and his action was correspondingly quick. As the log tipped over, slowly at first, he slipped from it, striving to throw himself in the direction of the fir tree. In this endeavor his success was better than he could have hoped for. He fell like lead, and the rapidity of the descent took his breath away; but he had sense enough to know that he was out of the line of the log, whose withered branches scarcely grazed him as it went down. He landed in the top of the fir tree, instinc- tively throwing out bis arms, and grasping blindly at everything that was within his reach, The log went tumbling through the branches at his side, bending and Breaking: them, and pee bumping and crashing as it struck the rocks ow. But he was safe, at least for the time. He caught one of the spreading branches of the fir, and clung to it as if with a death grip. Though he was insensible, or nearly so, when i i | ———EE | | statement he made. He stepped aside with his father to a position from which they could watch the strange pro- ceedings above, without being observed. ‘‘ It’s a dangerous scheme that he is trying to work,” remarked Ike Sanders. ‘ Darned if I should like to be in his place. That is an old tree trunk that he is straddling, I suppose. It is to ge of the cliff, he could not doubt that | be hoped that t’other eend is well anchored, If it ain’t—” ‘Oh, dad!” quickly interrupted Abner, ‘“ It Ike Sanders then plainly saw the log start downward, and saw the man look back before he took his plunge into space. , The author of the calamity, at the other end of the tree, was not within the range of their vision. ** Merciful heaven!” exclaimed Ike. ‘* He will be smashed to flinders! Oh, Abner, this is aw- ful!” They watched the log and the man as they started together, and directly the former came bounding and crashing over and against the rocks, until it rested, in a damaged condition, at the foot of the cliff, lt was evident that the man did not accom- pany it the entire distance, and what had be- come of him? This question was answered by Abner, who inted to the fir tree in which Hank Ward had odgee, and which was still shaking under his fal ‘‘ Perhaps he ain’t dead,” suggested Ike San- ders. ‘‘ We had better try to get up there and see if we can help him.” Before they could get to the foot of the cliff they saw the man reach the baso of the fir tree, and directly he started to finish the descent — he had begun so hastily and against his will. ‘* Hold on, there!” screamed Abner, in his shrill and reaching voice that could be heard so far and so plainly. ‘** Don’t try it there! Go furder to the right, an’ you'll find a better way.” Abner spoke as one who knew what he was talking about, and if there was anybody who was thoroughly acquainted with every portion, accessible and inaccessible, of the basin and its he struck the tree, his clutch was sure and tena- | sere it was he. da cious. While he held to the branch his body was largely supported by the boughs below it, so that no great muscular exertion was required to keep him there. Soon his senses came back to him, and he placed himself in a safer and easier position, where he calmly considered the situdtion. It was but a scanty view that he could get through the thick fir branches of what was be- low him; but he realized the fact that he was still at a considerable distance from the bottom of the basin. ; He perceived that he was all there and com- paratively unhurt—not a limb lost, and no in- nara sustained, with the exception of a few ruises, He was therefore equal to his further salva- tion, if it was in the power of human skill and muscle to accomplish it, and it remained to be seen what his chances were. Climbing down the tree to its base, he perceiv- ed that it grew out of,a cleft in the rock, and that there was sufficient standing room about its roots to enable him to make a calm survey of the situation. Looking upward at first, and then downward, he discovered that he was already more than half-way to the bottom of the basin, and that the remainder of the descent, though difficult, was not impossible. There were projections of rock below him, with stunted trees and bushes, by the aid of which he hoped to be able to get down without serious danger to life and limb. He was about to begin the descent when he was greeted by a hail from below. It was not to be supposed that the Sanders family would remain ignorant of what was go- ing on at the side of the cliff, so near to their habitation. ; If they had not previously seen anything un- usual in that direction, the crash of the falling log would have been sufficient to call their at- tention to the spot. But they had seen something, and it was the sharp sight of Abner that discovered it. He had caught a glimpse of a movement of some sort at the edge of the cliff, and had watched the place closely to ascertain what the movement meant. When he saw a man crawling out toward the edge of the log that overhung the cliff, he hasten- ed to point out the object to his father, | | Hemlock Hank was grateful for the informa- tion, of whose value he was soon made aware, It may be supposed that he was not very well pleased with the idea of going down among those who, under the circumstances, might be considered as his enemies; but he could not as- cend the cliff, and, as he must do something, there was nothing for it but to descend. He took the direction recommended to him by Abner, and found a way of descent which was not very difficult to so agile and ath- letic a man as he, With the aid of bushes and trees and pas of rock he worked his way down to the foot of the cliff safely and pretty rapidly. Abner, as he closely watched the descent of the stranger, was struck by an idea, or bya memory. ‘*T guess I know who that is, dad,” said he. ‘‘ Yes, ’m sart’in. I’ve seen him afore. I met him once at the river, same time’s I fu’st saw that Dick Risden.” ‘* Who is he, thea?” ‘‘ Hank Werd—the man they call Hemlock Hank.” ‘Sho! You don’t say. Ill be darned glad to see him; but I wonder how he ever got into this scrape.” CHAPTER XXX, A CLEAN BREAST OF IT. THE question which Ike Sanders suggested was one which he was sure to ask Hemlock Hank as soon as it should be possible to do so, and one which that individual did not anticipate much pleasure in answering. But it would have to be answered, and, as his nature was entirely honest and straightforward, there would be nothing for him but to tell the plain and simple truth. Ike Sanders advanced to meet him with a smiling face and open hands, “Glad to see you, Mr. Ward,” said he. ‘* Mighty glad to see you here. But I’d ruther Baw 5 ha’ come in a leetle easier an’ not quite so sudden,” ‘“T am very thankful,” answered Hank, ‘that I am here with a whole skin and no broken bones.” ‘*So are we, Mr. Ward. We'd beawful sorry to see such a man as you git hurt.” ‘* You seem to have a leetle the advantage of me here,” remarked Hank. ‘‘ You know me; Dave and Nick Sanders were then at work on | but I can’t say that I ever come across you the dam at the foot of the pond. | ‘* Tt is a man, sure enough,” said Ike Sanders. | | afore.” ‘‘Tt was my boy Abner, here, who gave me ‘‘Who can he be, and what is he there for? | your name, and, of course, I know you by rep- Shouldn’t wonder, Abner, if he is one of those darned Kanucks who bothered us a while ago,” | pytations as I may say. Abner has seen you ore, though I don’t suppose you remem “ (E(@) (EC) (G 200ks & / 4 t 4 ae