Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 338 — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

} an flies up to aline with his eye; and his revol- ver speaks first. But even as it explodes he leaps to one side, and then resumes the chase. Sly Sam’s revolver is seen to drop from his hand. He stands for a moment with his arm hanging at his side, and then turn- ing, speeds on. The boys are yelling themselves hoarse with enthusiastic admiration of the butt of any man’s gibe but \pecatae g henceforth to be the wonder and boast of Red Dump. In every emergency as it arises he seems to sur- pass anything they have ever seen. Before he gets beyond the im): of light from the blazing shanties which he himself helped to ignite, Sly Sam turns at bay. The two men grapple and go down. The boys rush on, to be in time to see the beautiful wrestling match that ensues. Onlv a few are in time to see him twist one of Sam’s hands under his back. Then with a quick wrench he rolls him over upon his face, catches the other hand and crosses it over the one he already has, plants his knee between his shoulders, and looking up, says, quietly: ‘‘Gentlemen, have you a piece of rope? But, never mind. His belt will do.” And in a twinkling Sly Sam lies gasping and grinding his teeth in impotentrage. As vain his profane blackguardism, He is a helpless prisoner. The boys gather about Ned Gordon, every one eager to grasp his hand, vying with one another in open homage. Now that the excitement of the struggle is over, he replies to them good-naturedly, yet a little wearily. He leaves them to dispose of the prisoner. He does not even look after him as they drag him to the gallows-tree, while Blue-ruin Bob and Tony Baxter al- ready await him with the rope about their necks. But if the hanging holds no interest for him, it does for another. Mrs. Clymer watches Blue-ruin Bob from the darkness with her heart in her mouth. Will he recover and denounce her? That revenge on a woman would be a worthy last act of his treacherous life. But the boys do not wait for this. Before he recovers from the,.stunning blow his dangling body is twirling round and round, as its weight untwists the strands of the rope; and, shuddering with horror, the widow breathes more easily. Having got rid of his admirers, Ned Gor- don comes upon a woman sitting on the ground before a shanty which is fast crum- bling under the touch of the fire-fiend. Her hands are clasped in her lap, her arms extended rigidly, and her eyes, with a hard glitter in them, as if she were driven to the verge of insanity with her hopeless grief, stare straight into the fire. Ned Gordon puts his hand gently on her shoulder. ‘My poor woman,” he says, ‘‘come with me. She looks up vacantly. It is Nobody’s Nell, but so changed as to be hardly recog- nizable. He knows that he can relieve all this, and give back the old beauty to her cheek, the old Bay sparkle to her eye. But who can lift the load off Ads heart? Thinking of this wretched contrast, he does not tell her the heaven of delight he has in store for her. He only repeats: ‘*Come!” And she gets up and follows him, without interest, as without question, As they approach the shanty where he had left Jack, he starts. He sees a light where he had left him in darkness. He hurries his steps; but before he reaches the latch the door opens from within, and a man stands in the aperture. “Hallo!” he says, familiarly. ‘‘ You are just in time. As I don’t kill people in your ungling way, there was no call for me over yonder; so I thought I would put in my time patching up—”’ But his trifling speech is cut short by a shriek that is a severe strain to even his tried nerves, and he is nearly knocked down by a body that, leaping from the darkness, darts by him into vhe house. ‘*Good heavens! what’s that?’ he cries, turning round, What he sees is a woman on her knees be- Ai ack Sand, the Boss of the ee fore a man sitting in a chair. She has flung her arms about him and the chair too in her greedy love, and with her head thrown back so that she can gaze into his face, is scream- ing at the vop of her voice, as if he would es- cape her if she did not succeed in calling him back: ‘Jack! Jack! Jack! Oh, Jack!” And he, with her face clasped between his two hands, is smiling down into it, and say- ing: ¥ Why, Nell! Nell! do you love me so?” Ned Gordon looks in upon this scene of ecstatic happiness from under gloomy brows, and then, setting his teeth hard, turns away without a word. ‘Well!’ exclaims the humorous surgeon, “there ain’t anything in that to make a man’s blood run cold! But I reckon you don’t want any one hanging about here just about this time o’ day, so I'll take myself off, ten- dering you my sympathy!” “‘Oh, yes we do!” said Jack, answering the first part of his observation. ‘‘If you can find the parson anywhere about, oblige me by sending him round here, with as many of the boys as think a wedding more entertaining than a hanging-match!” ‘‘Some think that being hanged and get- ting married amount to pretty much the same thing,” said the surgeon. ‘‘ But for my part, if | were forced to a choice between them, | think I should prefer the hang—that is to say, matrimony! But I will deliver your ree a and let every one choose for him- self.” He was just in time to see Mrs, Clymer ride away in the company of Colonel Raw- linson; and he had to speak twice before he succeeded in drawing the minister from his abstraction. The boys received the invitation to the wedding with enthusiasm, and swore that Ned Gordon ought to stand as Jack’s best man. But a moment before Kid Shannon had plucked him by the arm, saying: ‘* Boss, she’s a-callin’ for ye.” ‘*Who?” asked Gordon, duil ; ‘*Why, the leetle gal—your Jeetle gal, ye know!” The man stared stupidly at the lad. ‘*Come along!” urged Rid, pulling him. And without a word he was led to where Grace awaited him. CHAPTER XXXIIT. "a" ke SHE was in Mrs. Shannon’s bed, looking pale, yet now perfectly rational. But what was it that she held in her hand? A ribbon fell over her fingers, and he caught the glint of gold through them. It was a miniature at which she was gazing intently. She looked up as he approached, with a wan smile of weleome. ‘‘Oh}| you have come!” she exclaimed, ex- tending her hand, With bated breath and head in a whirl he went up to her and took the offered hand. What was the meaning of this wistful ex- pectancy, that gave place to shy embarrass- ment and concern, as he stood gazing at her? She slipped her hand out of his, and with cheeks aflame, hid the miniature under the bed-clothes, ‘‘You are angry with me?” she said, her lip quivering. “ Angry with you? Oh, no!” he exclaim- ed, his voice vibrant with ‘pain. ‘‘ No, no, my child! Nothing could ever make me angry with you!” ‘Then why do you look and—and—act so strangely?” And her eyes brimmed over with hurt tears. ‘‘ Look—act strangely?” he repeated, bend- ing over her with a yearning beyond words to express. ‘‘ What can I do—what can I a to prove that—that—” le broke down, dropped his face on the bed beside her, and struggled vainly with the great throes of ‘pain that shook his frame. **Oh, don’t!—please don’t! You frighten me!” she cried, slipping her hand under his face to lift it up. This was too much. He caught it and de- voured it. with kisses. ‘“Then—then—you do love me?” she asked. ‘‘I—I was afraid— You looked so stern, you know—”’ “Love you!” he cried, with a gush of tenderness. ‘‘Oh, that I could win from 20 But, no! no! it can- you a tithe of the— not be!” ‘‘ Why,” she exclaimed, looking sweetly upon him, ‘‘I have loved you all my life, I think. Look!” And she drew forth the miniature which, a moment before, she had secreted. ‘‘Mamma gave it to me when I was the teeny-weeniest little thing, and told me that I was to love you if I ever found you any- where in the world; and I have been waiting for you ever since. ‘*Love me!” repeated Gordon, in whose brain there seemed room for no other thought. She took hold of one side of his mustache and drew his face toward her, saying, witha coquettish smile: ‘* You don’t deserve it; but then—” She pursed up her lips as a suitable con- clusion of the sentence. ‘“My God! is it possible?” he cried. ‘*Is what possible?” she asked. But, without reply, he caught her in his arms, She clasped him about the neck with a little laugh of ecstasy, and there was no lon- ger any misunderstanding between them. Presently she said: “You must tell papa that I can’t go to him. | tried to get up a little while ago, and I couldn’t stand on my feet. Do you know? —lI can’t remember how I got here, It all seems so strange.” And she brushed her hand across her fore- head. Gordon started. That terrible scene had been blotted out of her memory! In the an- guish of his soul, he had not given it a thought either. Then she did not know that her father was dead. He resolved not to enlighten her for the present. ‘“My darling,” he breathed, winding his arms about her, ‘‘ you love me?” ‘“Why, of course!” she answered, with that gladsome intonation which has made many a lover’s heart bound. ‘“‘| want you to be my wife!” ‘* Is it possible?” archly. ‘*But without a moment's delay.” ‘Hal ha! Are you so afraid of losing me?” | ‘* Yes! yes!. Do not deny me!” “Oh! but how can I? You see how ill I am.” Then he fell to ct ry, Sal her, so fer- vently that she saw that he hung upon her consent as a dying man might cling to the buon of life; and in the end she yielded, convinced in her love if not in her reason, He ran out to find Jack’s marriage just concluded, and the boys making the crags resound with their cheers for the new alcalde and his bride. ‘‘ Why, what’s the matter? You are beside | ourself!” cried Jack, as Ned wrung his and, ‘‘ Look out, old fellow! Please to | remember that I am not a well man by any | means, though a lucky rib kept that bullet. from making a hole that it wouldn’t have been easy to mend. It was so close over m heart that I thought it had gone clean throug me. But what Has come over you?” ‘*|’ve come to borrow your parson!’ cried Gordon, gayly. ‘‘I leave you to guess the rest! Averil!” ‘*Gawdon, I do congratulate you! You’re one of the men who have got their deserts to-night!” ‘‘You ran away, I understand, from bein my best man,” said Jack; ‘‘ but hang me if I don’t act in that capacity for you, by my own invitation!” ‘‘Boys, you'll have to carry me along, too!” said a rather weak voice. Gordon looked, and saw Injun Sid. ‘Can't I be second best?” he asked. “J owe Bg my life as well as Jack does.” “If you won’t say anything more about that,” replied Gordon, receiving the warm pressure of his hand. So they adjourned to the widow Shan- non’s, where Ned Gordon received compen- sation in full for all the weary sorrow of his life, while the boys yelled themselves hoarse outside. ‘“‘Fool!” cried one, who fairly represented the genera] sentiment, ‘‘dang my hide ef it wouldn’t be the bulliest thing that ever struck this hyar camp to have a lot more o’ the same kind!’ THE END. EComilchoo cS CO (i . <— a ee