Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 380 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

: => tt eee **and we ain’t ready for it. fresh through the camp at b 4. ‘‘She withstood me. There wasan abundance for me. Madre de Dios! she had left me two pieces for one. Was that robbery? ‘“T persuaded. I became angry. I reproach- ed her with trifling when our very lives might be at stake. ‘‘(ome! come! she was going. If I did not dress, she would leave me to follow at my leisure. “Of a verity, she rode off, laughing gayly.” All this Don Giacomo told with an indigna- tion so ill in keeping with the picture he was portraying, that his auditors laughed as gayly as the Golden Serpent was said to have done. ‘What could I do?” he asked. ‘‘Should I follow her bearing her clothes in my arms, my- self in dishabille? I waited, hoping that she would return. I now know why she did not allow herself to be moved from her purpose. ‘Finally, in despair, I donned these odious garments, and followed her. ‘‘She laughed at my chagrin. There never was so famous a beauty. She would take me to a fandango, where all the senoritas should turu green with envy, playing wall-flower, while I turned the heads of all the gallants! ‘*Arms? She was the gallant now. The arms went with the boots and spurs. So I was left as you see—with a fan |” It was not literally true that Don Giacomo had afan. He held his open hands, to show that he was disarmed. ‘* The devil that lurked beneath her banter is now apparent to me,” he went on. “If gay badinage failed to reconcile me to my bumilia- tion, I have no doubt that she would have co- erced me with my own weapons. It is plain that she had resolved to fasten this crime upon me, if we were overtaken. ‘To the same end she rode any horse, leaving me this exhausted beast. Her heartless deser- tion proves how she had schemed from the first. ‘*She has sacrificed me to her own safety. She has brought this shame upon me, Therefore I curse her with every breath!” ** An’ J say—an’ I’ve always said it!—she’s a chain-lightnin’ leetle woman!” cried one of the men who, while the mood was upon him, would have been among the foremost to hang her, had they caught her. As it was, the huge joke of putting this dandy into her dress, to his ludicrous disgust, went far to atone for the trifling faults of killing one man and trying to fasten the crime upon an- other, both of whom she had professed to love. As for the peccadillo of rig hep, re with an- other man’s property—if it had n a horse that would have been a hanging matter; but a woman!—the boys looked upon that as an en- tirely Bs ye affair, which would justify the injured man in shooting his wronger on sight, but with which the public at large had no cause to interfere. “But, by Judas! we can’t lose the chance of parading this new specimen through Coyote!” cried Tom Cosgrove, ‘‘ The boys would never forgive us, if we kept such a windfall to our- selves.” Everybody laughed. In vain did Don Gia- como plead. He swore that he would commit suicide. ‘‘ Not until we’re through with ye!” said Cos- ve. ‘If, after we’ve had our fun, you want Ae rid the world of one Greaser more, that’s your own affair.” ; . ‘‘ But,” interposed Ham Losier, seeing that the whole party was about to turn about at once and return to Dorete, ‘‘we are not to abandon our enterprise. We set out to avenge Ad Farley’s death; and the murderess is not yet in our hands. All this while she has been increasing her advantage.” But the boys had laughed themselves into Rood humor. They wanted the fun of parading e dandy don through the camp. ‘‘Hang it all, Ham!” said one, “we can’t never niek her up. She’s straddlin’ the best hoss in this part o’ the country!” “ At any rate, it will take a long chase .to make anything of this,” said Tom Cosgrove, ‘“*'Wecan make a start to-morrow with better horses, and be the gainers by it. That will give us a chance for our fun in the bargain.”’ Losier saw _ that roe pula was completely de- moralized. He yielded. They rode back to Coyote. Tom Cosgrove took the don’s tethering-strap, and dashed mes speed, followed the others, yclling at the top of their that they had returned with the Golden Serpent. But with his mask off many recognized Don Giacomo, and when the nature of the joke became generally known, the whole camp entered into the sport. Never was man so guyed before. What the boys didn’t think of in the way of chaff would make a precious small book. The women took Don Giacomo’s part. It was ashame to abuse him so! : : As for him, he that day steeped his soul in hatred of the accursed Americanos so that he never afterward could see one without gritting his teeth. ‘ But it was to wreaking a fit revenge against ungs. At first it was su — ; nn i ET EET LL ee ee eee oe The Golden Serpent. the Golden Serpent that he dedicated his life, with many a rasping Spanish oath. The boys wound up by ducking him in the creek until he was nearly drowned, and then drummed him out of camp. Ham Losier organized his party afresh, and set a once more on the trail of the Golden Ser- vent, A week later they returned empty-handed. But they had accomplished one result not anticipated. Their persistent pursuit had driven the Golden Serpent to a desperate step. A slip, a fall, and a horse with a broken a arrest d her flight. In this strait she accidentally made a dis- covery which altered the whole plan of her life. ‘ Hunted like a wild beast,” she said. ‘‘ I must surround myself with men who will match Ham Losier’s gang, and here is the means of securing them!” On the day following the formation of this new purpose she stood in the midst of a party of men, as sad dogs as ever went pahanaelt: “You have n deceived,” she said, ‘‘ by a man who used you only so long as you were neces- sary to his as and then slipped away with the prize for which some of you had a with our blood. You long for revenge? ell, I can ead you to his hiding-place. ‘*On my side, I have a fancy to queen it over a band of road-agents. You can gratify that ambition. ““ You know something of me already. Judge from that whether I am fit to lead desperate men on desperate enterprises. ‘*Come! is it a bargain?” The men gazed at her with awakening en- thusiasm. The idea of being led by a woman, and she of such wild beauty, caught their fancy. Once organized, the fame of such a band would spread like wild-fire, because of its romantic leadership. ‘‘ What say, boys? Is it a go?’ cried one of their number. , He swung his hat above his head, and a wild cheer answered him. They swore be ea to their fair queen at the mouth of the revolver and the point of the bowie- knife, and her first act was to lead them to a shanty where they found a man lying bound and just recovering consciousness after a stunning low. Search of his person failed to discover the prize which they had hoped to regain, and knowing that he had no prospect other than death, he re- fused to tell what had brought bim to the state in which they found him. In a rage they hanged him out of hand. With the adventures that immediately follow- ed this new phase in the checkered life of the Gol- den Serpent, this story isnotconcerned. Suffice it to say that six months subsequent found her at the head of one of the most famous bands of robbers in the West. During this interval she had neither seen nor heard of Don Giacomo, the victim of so base treachery. But now her line of life crossed once more that of Tiger Dick; and at this point we resume the narrative. CHAPTER IV. A TROPIC PARADISE. DIMPLED by a gentle southern breeze, the blue waters of the Gulf of California flashed back the full-orbed splendor of the tropic sun, as if from the silver surface of scale armor. They were cleft by the sharp prow of a small felucca-rigged craft, which was sree oO and on to weather a long low point of land, where rose the columnar stems and waved the broad leaves of the luxuriant vegatation of that southern clime. The vessel was of most graceful build, and ayly decked with bunting; while a striped awn- g chosing a part of its deck from the too fervid rays of the vertical sun. It was manned by dark-skirmed natives, dress- ed in loose tunics and flowing trousers of snowy duck, and with gaudy silk handkerchiefs bound artistically about their raven locks, Each car- ried a murderous-looking knife on his hip, which one was apt to associate uncomfortably with the glitter of his black eyes. . But under the awning was a reassuring pic- ture. There swung a silken hammock in which re- clined a lady of most alluring beauty: She had the fair skin of the north, and the mild-eyed se- renity of that zone where ion is calmed into an idealistic tenderness. ere was an air of al- most ethereal fragility about her, which with some women makes a period of convalescence the most bewitching ofall. Beside her, in a canvas reclining chair, sat a gentleman, in the heyday of physical manhood yet whose clear-cut features bore the lines of one old in worldly experience. Between his knees leaned neglected a Spanish lute; with one hand he was toying idly with the fringe of a zephyry shawl which trailed over the side of the hammock on the holy-stoned deck; his absent was fixed on the far horizon, where a faint ro goat the blue of the sea from the blue of e sky. ‘“Why so grave, my gentle Giaour?”’ asked as a r the lady, with a vein of pathos in her playful* ness, ah§ companion came out of his reverie with a *‘Am I grave?” he asked, smiling upon her with a tenderness more expressive than words, yet with the effort showing but too plainly through his assumed cheerfulness. She reached out her soft white hand, and let it fall upon bis as lightly as a rose-leaf. The affectionate yearning in her eyes drew him to her; and he leaned nearer, until she could put out her other hand and brush a stray lock back from his forehead. Still she smiled bravely into his eyes, as she- asked: **Can’t I woo you from those Byronic moods., dear? They’re not becoming to your style of beauty !” ‘Tm an ungrateful wretch!” affirmed the man, in tones deep and tremulous with emotion.. “Hush! hush!” she interrupted him. “Tb listen to no such treasonable statement. Do you see that little bay, with the swells combing om its narrow strip of yellow sand, with its cool, shadowy retreats, its restful silences, the music of its birds, the perfume of its flowers?” The man looked in the direction in which, ris- ing upon her elbow, she pointed with outstretch- ed hand. He saw a perfect Paradise of tropic delights —the smiling sea, in the embrace, as it were, of the land, decked as a bride for her nuptials; and over all, the benign heavens. ‘* My lover! my husband soon to be!” breathed the lady, in low, winning tones, *‘ we are sailing; away to just such a heven of peace!” He turned and looked at her. An exquisite shell-tint had come into her cheeks, its play as sensitive as the changing light of the aurora. Her eyes were humid with tenderness; and her lips, just parted with a questioning smile, awaited the reward of their pretty prognostic. The man’s grave face did not relax. Instead into his eyes came a reat bs trouble, as he read what ber soul was telling him of its complete: abandonment, its entire dependence upon him. Slowly, in spite of her brave struggle to re- tain it, the smile faded from her lips, leaving « piteous quiver there. Her cheeks paled; her eyes grew fearful; and with her hands palm to palm and her shoulders drawn forward, she shrunk into his embrace, as if for protection. ‘** Ben, dear Ben!” she breathed, ‘‘ what is it? I have heen so happy—oh! I can’t tell you? But of late—I don’t know what it is—you are breaking my heart! I’m afraid! It seemsasif something terrible were impending! You—you are keeping me out of your heart!” ‘‘ Beatrice,” said the man slowly, looking steadily down into the eyes that besought his, ‘‘suppose that every day brought nearer the necessity of parting with you?” ‘‘Of parting with me!” gasped the woman, in amazement. ‘‘ For a little while,” he hastened to add. ‘“But when, and why? I thought that we were one forever—that we should never be sep- arated again—never for a moment!” “It is unavoidable, dear.” ‘‘But—but—as your wife, shall I not go where you go, always?” ‘*T must set out to-morrow—” ‘To-morrow! Before—before—” She had started from his embrace. read his face with a wild misgiving. ‘ ‘‘On business which of necessity anticipates our marriage,” he went on, too deeply engrossed in bis own thoughts to observe closely what was going on in her mind. ‘But of what nature? You can tell me—” **Not now.” ‘‘ Nor how Jong—” ‘ t Everything seemed swimming about her; the words died on her lips. “T do not know,” he answered, disengaging a trifling snarl in the fringe of her shaw]. Why did he avoid roeee at her? Why had he hidden this from her till the last moment? A mad thought flashed through her brain like @ glare of lightning that suddenly brings out im vivid detail a scene of devastation. ‘* Ben, you—are—not—”’ She leaned toward him involuntarily, as if to meet the blow. Let her be close to him when it fell! It seemed as if she were indeed dying! There was that in her constrained voice which ee go brought him to himself and the resent, and lifting his eyes quickly he saw what e had unwittingly done. “Beatrice!” he cried, in quick, sharp, star- tled tones, as he caught her in his arms, ** 0-0-oh!” She now And with a long-drawn cry, as the burden of that maddening doubt fell away from her heart, she threw one arm about his neck, and clung to: him, sobbing spasmodically. “Oh! whet have I done?” he cried, caressing her hair, and kissing her eyes and cheeks and lips. ‘‘My darling! my poor darling!” ‘* Hold me close,” she w red, “ and tell me- over and over and over again!” ‘* But what shall I tell you, my love?” he ask- ed, in bewilderment. ‘‘ Has the thought of—of* a brief separation overcome you so?’ Gomicboo € <S