Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 38 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

SS a ——— 14 Beadle’s Dime Library. forth his revolvers and carefully examined the charges, fresh capped them and then thrust them back in their holsters. The superintendent watched these warlike preparations with a calm face, but with a satisfied mind. | ‘Now I'll have a few words with the scoundrel!” the Califor- nian exclaimed, rising and striding toward the door. “ If he has dared to raise his eyes to my sister let him make his peace with Heaven, for he is not long for this world!” CHAPTER XVIL ZIMENA’S STORY. Nigut had come, and the silver moon, round as the shield of a dusky warrior, hung high in the heavens, shedding a soft flood of silvery light over the city of Cinnabar. Gigantic shadows the shanties of the town cast, grotesque and peculiar. The cottage which Del Colma had erected on the Cinnabar pro- perty, stood just within the line where once the old stockade wall had run, extending in a semicircle from bluff to bluff, all around the claim. Only a few moss-grown stumps now remained to show where the wall had formerly stood. Attached to the cottage was a little garden, wherein the care- ful hand of the girl, with true womanly grace, had planted wild- flowers, gathered here and there during her rambles in the foot- hills near the town. A lofty pine, which the woodman’s hand had spared, stood just on the outskirts of the garden, and by its trunk a rude bench had been constructed. By the tree-trunk sat Blanche del Colma, and, reclining on a huge stone near by, busily engaged in knitting one of those gay-colored scarfs, so common to the Mexican race, was the lady’s waiting-maid, a rather pert, pretty-faced half-indian, half- Mexican girl, by name Zimena., Blanche had been engaged in thoughtful meditation, watching the beauty of the night, and enjoying the grandeur of the rugged mountain scenery, so oddly set forth by the light of the moon. Zimena had been chatting away, merrily, and parrot-like, about a hundred different things; full of life and vivacity was the peon girl. “And so you do not find it lonesome here?” the mistress said, taking advantage of a declaration of how charming a place she thought Cinnabar City to be, made by Zimena, to ask the ques- tion. ‘Lonely! Oh, no, senorita!” the girl cried, instantly. ‘It is 80 lively; so gay here, so many houses, so many people! Why, senorita, if you remember, at the hacienda in the south, we saw only our neighbors; here we can see strangers every day.” The lady would not have wondered why the girl thought Cin- nabar City to be so gay if she had known that the cunning peon maid was in the habit of stealing out of the house now and then to take part in a sort of fandango, held generally on Sunday evenings, at a Mexican saloon in the lower part of the town. Quite cosmopolitan in its character was the young metropolis of the Shasta valley. No churches, as yet, but plenty of saloons. ‘Tt seems lonesome to me, for of the many faces I see, but few appear to be familiar; all strangers, no Californians.” ‘‘ Why, senorita, what difference does it make if they are only agreeable?” cried the girl, in her pert way. ‘‘ At home I had ad- mirers, but none so gallant and nice as the Americans I have here.” ‘““Ah, you have an admirer—a lover, then?” Blanche asked, curiously, interested, woman-like, in affairs of the heart. .9i, The girl simpered, attempted to blush and look confused’ but not being by nature one of the blushing kind, made a sad failure of it. O “Oh, senorita, I don’t know as I ought to call him a lover, because he has never said much to me with his tongue, although with his eyes he has said enough,” the girl confessed. | “How did you happen to make his acquaintance?” Blanche asked. ““Oh, senorita, it was just like a romance—like one of the old Spanish stories that Father Anselmo used to tell us!” Zimena exclaimed, enthusiastically. “A romance?” ‘Yes, senorita; it was just after dark one evening, and I had been to Senor Pollock’s store for some article ”"—-which was all a downright falsehood, for it was near midnight, and she was returning from the Mexican fandango which we have oefore mentioned—“ and as I came along the street I met some of the horrid miners; those ruffians, senorita, who come from the mountain gulches, and wear red shirts and big boots—great, ugly, huge-whiskered monsters!” and the girl’s eyes snapped and dilated as she described the peculiarities of the gulch pilgrims. ‘It was quite dark, and I was alone”—not exactly truth this statement, for she had been accompanied by a cavalier, a Mexican of uncer- tain character, who had incontinently taken to his heels upon encountering the jolly crowd of miners—“ and these great, rude men surrounded me, ‘ Hillo!’ cried one big monster, ‘if it ain'ta gal!’ ‘War yer goin’, little one?’ said another. “ And what did you say?’ asked Blanche, deeply interested in the tale, and wondering at the boldnesss of the men, not having the slightest suspicion that the scene which the girl was describ- ing with so much vivacity had taken place, not in the early evening, but close upon midnight—an hour when the presence of a woman alone in the streets of a great city would exci remark, let alone in a mining camp. | .y ‘““Why, senorita, of course, I at once told them who I and begged them to let me pass.” Another falsehood this state- ment, for the girl had not dared to confess who she was for fear of the circumstance coming to the ears of Del Colma, a result which, as she well knew, would be followed by her instant dis- missal from his service. “And did they?’ “Oh, no, senorita, the brutes! They declared that I must pay toil.” “Pay toll?” “Yes, senorita; TI must kiss each one of the ugly monsters.” The cheeks of the lady crimsoned at the idea. ‘But just as they began to stretch out their hands to lay hold of me, a tall, handsome gentleman came rapidly up, and step- ped in between. ‘Take care what you are about,’ he said; ‘this lady is under my protection, and Pll trouble you to let her go on her way in peace.’ ” “ And did they?” ““Yes; but they wasn’t going to, until one of them seemed to recognize the gentleman, and then he said, ‘ Well, king-pin of the Occidental gang, seeing as how it is you, we'll let her slide, but you'll have to stand treat,’ and then the gentleman said, ‘all right,’ and told me to run along home.” “ And so your adventure ended?” “Yes, senorita, although I have seen him a great many times since, and he always lifts his hat to me as politely as if I were a princess, and yesterday he was on the hillside—just up there, senorita,” and the girl pointed to the beginning of the foot-hills, about a hundred yards off, as she spoke, “ and I watched him for Boar an hour.” * And what was he doing there?” “Nothing, senorita, except looking down here.” “Porhaps he was looking for you?” “Yes, senorita, that was what I thought; and I hurried out es soon as I coultl, but he was gone.” “Do you know his name? ‘No, senorita’, but I can easily find out, for he wears such an odd suit, all velvet.” Blanche looked astonished; but the girl was so busy talking that she did not notice the expression of amazement so plainly written upon the face of her mistress. “And he such a handsome gentleman!” she continued; “he always looks so nice!” And here a sudden stop was put to the girl’s chatter by a hasty summons from the aged housekeeper from within the cottage. Zimena fled, leaving Blanche to her own thoughts. And so Velvet Hand—for the Californian girl easily recognized the velvet sharp by the description—was the lover of her wait- ing maid! | The proud lip of the girl curled in contempt. ‘‘And he seemed like a gentleman tuo —like one far above in station the rest of these rude, wild men. These Americans are all alike! There is no nobility of soul among them!” The girl fell into a deep meditation—a meditation from whence she was suddenly aroused. Forth from the shadow of the pine tree stepped a dark form, A single glance, and Blanche saw that it was an Indian maid who confronted her. Frowning was the dusky face, and savage the expression of the eyes. ‘‘Hula-ha-ha has traveled far from the home of her people to look upon the face of the pale beauty who has won the heart of the great velvet chief!” the Indian maid declared. CHAPTER XVIIL BLANCHE had started to her feet surprised by the sudden and unexpected appearance of the forest daughter, but astonished as she had been by the sight of the girl she was still more astonished by her strange speech. a The great velvet chief! And who was he, if not Velvet Hand? “ You are fair; the Water-bird does not wonder that the chief cares. for you,” the girl continued, slowly and sadly. “Who are you, and why do you come to me?” Blanche de- manded. ' ‘‘ Hula-ha-ha is a daughter of the McClouds. She comes to the lodges of the white men so that she may look upon the face of the pale woman who has stolen the vélvet chiefaway. She is satis- fied; she will go back to her people now and tell them that it is useless to try to win the velvet chief from the whites. The pale woman is too fair; he will never leave her,” “And what have I to do with the velvet chief?” cried Blanche, her cheeks crimsoning. ‘‘Kverything,” the Indian girl replied, slowly; ‘for your sake he forgets and forgives. pay wrongs have the false white men heaped upon him; once be owned this valley—the little cave where they dig the yellow metal—the ground whereon we stand, all was his. His false brothers cheated him out of it, and then he fled to the lava rocks and the wild pines, and became the great chief of the ‘tribe. ‘He wrote his totem in blood here by the river many moonsago; he drove the false white men from the land which they had stolen and burnt their lodges. All here is his if he chooses to claim it. The red McClouds offered him their warriors; I, the Water-bird, the daughter of Koo-choo, ihe. Hog, would have become his squaw; all the yellow meta! in the mountains would have been his, but he would have nune of it for Gomichbooks Seine