Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 345 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

“pct oe : he ee ee a Ew * 7 os er woe — by the two young ranchers, were visibly reluc- tant to do so, it was the exact contrary with the dozen or more men who bore Jehudi Fee com- pany on his trail for vengeance. Although that stern and generally disa able personage never so much as suspec the fact, his amet in was composed almost with- or exception of the actual Crooks of Rackabout nge. It will be remembered that at one point in the recital of Barry Carlsworth, he paused as though expecting an open attack from Colonel Victor Vanderlyn. Instead, the giant passed behind the bar and helping himself to liquor, bade Marsh Stokeley supply all who cared for it with the same poison. Then, as the men swallowed their liquor, each one fell back in close proxim- ity to the colonel. Thus, without any suspicious movement, the actual criminals were all gather- ed in a compact body, ready to obey the first sign or word of their chief. ot until this was effected did Colonel Vander- lyn deem it prudent to press his query as to whether Dike Roberts had made full confession before death overtook him. If the answer had been in the affirmative—if the colonel had real- ized how completely the ground was cut away beneath his feet—neither Barry Carlsworth nor Frank Dymock would have lived to complete - their stor <ete * it was shees men who formed the party riding at the heels of Jehudi Fee to solve the mystery of the double Masked Mark. They felt that their greatest peril lay in that direction, though the majority of them knew well enough that Alva Bohee had no hand in the crimes charged against him. That part of the plan was a mystery toall but big Dick Morton, and thus far he had offered no explanation. On the contrary, they knew that Dike Roberts did belong to their organization. They knew that he would never have attempted to play the role of the Mounted Detective without orders, and being able to in a measure ‘‘ read between the lines,” they saw how terrible his death had shaken their chief. They knew now that the yart actually played by the still living Masked ark had been intended for Dike Roberts, in disguise. Since that part had been carried out so adroitly as to deceive even the cunning brain that had concocted it, the real Masked Mark must know enough to render his safety their de- struction, and each man inwardly swore that the trail should never end until a corpse lay at the further extremity. Jehudi Fee knew nothing of all this. He only _ knew that his old and loved friend had died by violence, that his death was charged against the man with the hidden face. He made no effort to solve the mystery clinging about the double mask; he wanted vengeance of all. Yet he was not a man to set at work blindly and scarcely had they drawn out of sight of Stokeley’s when he abruptly hailed Tip, the Weasel, who was rapidly trotting over the level ground, lifting the trail by the light of the lan- tern he bore. : ‘‘They’s no break, boss—it’s clean as whistle, an’ jes’ play fer to pick it out!” squeaked the Sithercd, old-young imp, his ferret eyes glitter- ing redly as he turned in answer to that stern call. ‘There is only one set of hoof-prints,” said Jehudi Fee, bending over in his saddle, his gaze still keen and shrewd. ‘‘ There should be two if that demon took Alva Bohee with him,” **Mebbe they will be, furder ap grinned the impish guide, ‘‘ but not now. see’d the critter when he sot off. They was on’y the one hoss. He chucked the Parson into the saddle, like he was a ee. 0’ feathers, then jumped up ahind an’ putt off, lickety-brin’le! I see’d so much, afore the do’ was shet onto ’em by the kunnel,” ‘You are positive?” hesitated Jehudi. ‘ Re- member, if we make a mistake now, it may ruin all our hopes.” ‘* What I know I know, an’ I know jes’ what | tell ye I know,” muttered the imp, showing his teeth in a half-savage fashion, evidently dis- pleased at having his ability as a spy and guide called into question, ‘‘ Ef ye don’t want to fol- ler this trail, you kin git some other gent fer to show you the way, fer J won’t! When I know, I know, I reckon—I do!” “'They’s no discount onto the critter, squire,” hurriedly muttered Dick Morton, pressing closer to Fee. ‘* He’s good asa bloodhoun’ on sech ascent. an’ when he talks that-a-way, you kin ? lay your last dollar he’s got holt o’ the right eend,” Though it was clear that Jehudi Fee still had some lingering doubts, he yielded to this double assurance, and once more the human weasel took up the trail, lifting it at a rate that caused the best of the animals to trot their best, and a few to even break into a gallop to keep from being distanced. f ‘Better have him double-up with the lightest man, or he will soon break down at the rate he is going,” muttered Fee, to Dick Morton, who kept close to his side. A low, half-sneering gi broke from the bearded lips of the big ranchero, then he made reply: f \Vhich shows you hain’t see’d much o’ Tip, Masked Mark, - tp squire! They ain’t a hoss in the kentry as kin break him down, fer big money! ’Course they’s plenty as kin double onto him fer sart’in dis- tances, but take it day in an’ day out, that little dried up runt ’d lay outa hull rijiment o’ crit- ters, one down the other come up, an’ actilly ow fat over it, too! You cain’t break him own, poways, squire!” As though he caught some of this interchange, Tip Stokeley let out a fresh link, gliding over the plain at an astonishing pace, though show- ing no symptoms of extra exertion, his head bending low to read the sign by the light of his lantern. The ranchers were obliged to press their ani- mals to keep within easy distance of him, and as mile after mile was passed over at the same rate, the doubts of Jehudi Fee became a thing of the past, so far as their guide was concerned. There was no serious break in the trail, though at times it passed over spots where it seemed in- credible that even the ferret-eyed Tip could pick up the tracks so swiftly, but if not, his reason- ing or his luck proved marvelous, for without an exception he hit the trail after passing the difficult stretches, The trail gradually bent to the right, forming a segment of a mammoth circle, covering per- haps half a dozen miles, without any sign of Masked Mark’s having paused even for a mo- ment or attempted to break his trail. It was now trending toward the upper end of Rack- about mange, and this was the only suspicious fact as yet discovered. ‘*Ef the critter was jes’ what he claimed, an’ meant ole business in ’restin’ the Parson,” mut- tered Dick Morton, ‘‘ he’d ’a’ kep’ straight on to the South with the feller. ‘Stead o’ that, it looks like he was workin’ ’round to the ole stampin’-grounds!” ‘*No matter where he goes, he cannot hide himself from my vengeance!” sternly cried the leader of the party. ‘‘He murdered my old friend. With my hand on his cold brow, I swore to never know rest until that murder was fully avenged. Heaven has recorded that oath, and I'll keep it or die!” ‘*They’s one thing dead shore! That critter couldn’t ’a’ bin ole berts, as it looked at the fu’st jump-off. They’s a heap o’ trickery mixed up in the a’fa’r, some way or other, but J cain’t see trough the muddle—kin you ?” Dick Morton gazed keenly but furtively into the stern, thin face of the man beside whom he was riding as he put this question. And, al- though he never for a moment suspected the fact, on the answer Jehudi Fee might give to that query, his life actually hinged. If he sus- péoted the truth, he would never know rest un- til he had reached the bottom of the black, sin- ful plot, and even though the life of his only son might be thereby endangered, if not absolutely sacrificed, his rigid, unbending sense of honor would never permit him to keep silence. He would disclose the truth, let the consequence be what it might. And knowing this, Dick Mor- ton fairly held his breath as he awaited the re- ly. Bt I only know this: my old friend is dead, and two honest men have declared that he came by his death at the hands of the fellow who calls himself Masked Mark. I mean to hunt him un- til we meet.” ‘* An’ then? Ef we should jump him out here to-night?” ‘““Tf he declined to halt, or if he could not prove the killing was in self defense, then—” A shrill yell from Tip Stokeley broke in upon his grim utterance, and swinging the lantern high over his head, the impish guide screeched: ‘Thar he is! Stole away—whoop-ee!” Indistinctly visible in the moonlight the avengers of Dike Roberts caught sight of a horse and rider breaking from a little patch of timber and dashing at full speed over the prairie! A dozen hoarse throats took up the shrill cry, and high over them all rose the strained voice of Jehudi Fee, rendered unrecognizable even to his own ears by the strong passions that fought in his bosom. ‘* Halt, you scoundrel!” he screamed, plung- ing spurs rowel deep into the flanks of his ani- mal, plunging forward attopspeed. ‘* Haltand surrender or you die!” ‘“Down him, boys!’ Dick Morton hissed to his fellow criminals. ‘‘ Don’t give him a chaince! Down him, afore he kin fit a noose fer our thrapples!” That was enough, and scarcely allowing Jehudi Fee to utter his wild challenge and warning—without giving the pursued time to either reply or obey—the ranchers opened fire with rifles that spoke at every leap of their ani- mals, the irregular roar drowning the rapid clicking of the levers as they ejected empty shells and sent fresh cartridges into the firing chamber. Only an instant, it seemed, then the leaders saw the horse of the fugitive throw up his head and plunge headlong, while a high, shrill scream came from its rider! And it was the scream of—not Masked Mark, but a woman! A ery of horror broke from the lips of Jehudi Fee, for a horrible fear assailed him as that ter- the Mounted Detective. ror-stricken voice came to his ears. He recog- nized it, though so distorted a pain and fright —recognized it as that of his daughter, Adola! The ranchers, too, knew that that scream never came from masculine lips, and with ejacu- lations of surprise and horror, they jerked up their horses, leaving Jehudi Fee to dash on alone. Tip Stokeley, laughing like a veritable fiend as he was, rolled over and over on the sward behind them, crying: - Shot at the gander an’ hit the goose, or I’m a liar!’ Savagely Dick Morton turned upon him, lift- ing his horse as though he would cause it to trample the mocking imp beneath its iron-shod hoofs; but Tip rolled swiftly out of danger, and dropping his lantern, took to his heels like a very will-o’-the-wisp. Jehudi Fee had eyes, ears, thoughts only for the figure that struck the plain beyond the fal- len horse with a sickening force, rolling over and over, and then lying still and motionless, as though dead. He sped up to its side, leaping from the saddle without drawing rein or checking his horse in the slightest. It was a wonder mishap did not befall him, but he pees am injury, and the next moment he was on his knees, lifting the head and shoulders of the figure in hisarms. . It was clad in masculine garments, and its face was covered with a sable mask, but his father’s love was enough to read the truth. And he was right. Adola Fee lay in his arms, seemingly dead, the red blood staining his hands as it flowed freely from a wound in the breast. He tore the mask from her face, and pressed his lips to her forehead. He uttered her name, coupled with prayers to her—with curses on his own folly. For a brief space he was little better than a maniac, for if he was so stern, so sour, so rigid and unbending, he loved his children with a love that burned all the more are from its being smothered by his iron will and kept in stern subjection. But then, as he felt a slight tremor creep over her form, his senses suddenly came back to him, and he called aloud: ** Doctor—Doctor Long!” From out the conf huddle of men, one of their number broke, and dismounted beside him. Dick Morton sprung to the ground, caught up the still burning lantern, and hurried with it to the scene of the sad mishap. Already Jehudi Fee had resigned his daughter to the more experienced hands of the doctor and as he took the lantern from the hand of Morton, he spoke, his voice as cold and even as though the life of the being whom he loved best of all on earth was not hovering between death and life: ‘*] don’t blame you, men, but you had better leave me with my dead. Go—follow the trail of Masked Mark, if you will; but go!” “She ain’t dead, I hope, squire?” huskily ut- tered Morton, his hard, coarse nature softened, for few in Rackabout Range but loved Adola, more for the terrible sufferings she had so re- cently undergone. **Not yet. Whether she will live or die, rests in the hands of the Lord. Will you take the Te oo ‘td ood hol ‘‘ Ef we cain’t do no nur ho e any,” hesitated Dick. Wires ree “Go now! One of your bullets struck her. Go now, if you are wise men!” harshly muttered the old man, his eyes ablaze, his bony.fingers about the butt of a revolver. The men saw that he was almost beside him- self with mingled grief, remorse and rage. They knew that his warning was given in dead- ly earnest, and to tell the plain truth, they were by no means eager to remain and gaze upon the work their rash hands had wrought. Dick Morton swung his heavy frame into the | saddle and without another word rode away over the prairie, in the direction of Stokeley’s. His comrades followed his lead without a ques- tion, but when those kneeling figures, with the lantern dimly lighting the scene, eied away in Morton drew rein and faced the distance, Dic his mates. ‘*This is the durnedest night’s work I ever come acrost, in the hull o’ my ’sperience, lads,” he muttered, tugging nervously at his shaggy beard. ‘‘ They’s a heap more into the air we're ready fer, I’m thinkin’! Fu’st this cussed Masked Mark knocks the plans all west-eend- an’-crooked! Then comes the Fee gal, rigged out in men’s clothes, an’ with her face ki over with a black rag, ridin’ over the plain this o’ night! Then Dike Roberts rub out, the devil only knows how an’ who ny bo I tell you, boys, the clouds is gittin’ mighty dark an’ thar’s a he-ole storm brewin’—you hear me !” ‘We cain’t foller the trail ’thout no light, an’ Tip gone nobody kin say whar to!” muttered another of the ranchers. ‘‘ That’s a lie, Adkins!” came a shrill voice, as the impish guide appeared at a little distance, ready for flight or advance as the circumstances would appear to justify. ‘‘ Here Tip is, ready fer trailin’ or what you like—on’y not fer hoss- beddin’, like big Dick Morton wanted to make out o’ me!” **Ef I thunk you knowed it was the gal, 'a—” “I didn’t know, not cntel she squealed,” JOO Gomme S vered ] * rT + (E(@) | io Pay 2% \ ’ - » | ee ee St ae ee —