Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 385 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

a s ES oe 2 a I = any one can. how I am situated. nn a ee ree id: bad lost a point in the game. Sibylla had fallen iuto unfriendly hands. Whose? He did not need to ponder on the point; there was but one man in Leadville to whom suspicion would point. This was Jude Peterson, and, though it was not likely he had been in the carriage, Dick was sure he was at the bottom of it. Further inquiry developed the fact that his own name had been sent up to Sibylla as a de- coy, and, though he had cautioned her against tricks, it had been worked well for the kidnap- ETS, The Leadville Lion smiled quietly as he walk- ed out of the hotel. It had become a battle be- - tween him and Jude Peterson, but, though the police spy had won the first move he had an ad- vantage over him in that he knew all which Jude thought so secret, including his treachery ; while Jude did not even know with whom he was dealing, “Tl fool him yet; if I don’t, my name isn’t Turpin,” thought the ex-road-agent. ‘* Pll send a netieiber to Red Kit and see if she has any- thing new.” Just then a voice pronounced his name and, turning quickly, he saw Red Kit, herself, ‘Mr, Bradstreet,” she said, hurriedly, ‘‘I want to speak to you.” ‘What is it?” he quickly asked. “They have succeeded in abducting the lady and children.” ‘* How do you know?’ “The woman has come back to their room, and the man—he came in just ahead of her— said that their plot had worked well, and that they were abducted.” ** Did she tell him anything?” “Yes: she had news which I did not hear, but it made him curse loudly.” Turpin chuckled. “T thought it might be that way. But did you learn where they have imprisoned the lady and children?” **No, but it is somewhere that they think is a safe prison.” “Pll wager something that I find it, just the same. I don’t think violence will be offered the prisoners, and I propose to have them out in short order.” “ Sheriff,” the girl abruptly said, ‘‘IT want to make a bargain with you. I’ve helped you some already, and [ll find your lost friends if you will then give me admittance to Dick Turpin!” CHAPTER XVII. THE NIGHT-PROWLER. Tum ex-road-agent started, and then shook his head. ‘“ Why will you persist in bringing up that old subject? Dick Turpin is doing very well; he has a good nurse, who will pull him through if Rest assured, Dick will not want for anything ” “You don’t understand, sheriff,” Red Kit re- lied, in a trembling voice; ‘‘ you don’t know It may not be modest for me to confess it, but I was not brought up as a doll, and I will say that I love Dick Turpin bet- ter than my own life. When I first came to you and betrayed him, jealousy bad rendered me insane. That’s the most charitable way I ean look at it; I think I was out of my mind. At ary rate, it was as vile a deed as woman ever did, and—you know the result. Now, Dick lies there, sick, perhaps dying. Let me go to him, as a penance, and—and because I love him!” Her voice was Iow, humble and uncertain of inflection, but through it ran a vein of eagerness which told how much in earnest she was, | Dick Turpin was curiously moved. It is the fortune of but few men to stand and hear a wo- man speak of her auditor as though he were an entirely different person, but the Lion of Lead- ville could not but feel for the girl, but he re- membered the desolation she had wrought and ~ again shook his head. “Tt can’t be.” Red Kit sighed deeply. ‘Ts it so very much that I ask, after what I have done to help you?” she asked. “That isn’t the point, but I am en officer of law, and it would be positively criminal for me to admit as a nurse for a sick man one who— a—had done him injury in the past.” He found some trouble in choosing his words. “Do you still believe that I would do him harm now?” . be No,” ‘Then why not admit me?” Turpin shook his head in silence, and then, as away out of the difficulty occurred to him, lowly replied. ** What good would it do you to go there and eare for him? Suppose he should make a live of it. Isn’tit just as well that he should die of brain fever, as for you to pull him through to at sary Red Kit started back with a sharp cry. ‘Oh! sir,” she exclaimed, ‘‘ you don’t mean thet—that such will be the end?” ‘* There has been no trial,” coolly replied -he, “bunt what better can Dick Turpin. road-agent, outlaw and murderer, expect of us?” ‘He is no murderer!” sharply retorted Red Wild Dick | Kit. ‘*‘ Road-agent he was, bit he never harmed man while with the band. They called him the Lion of Leadville, but ’twas his dashing bravery which led to the name, He purified the band after he came, drove out the worst members, or- dered that no blood should be shed, and even de- clined to keep what money fell to his share. What he took from the rich he gave to the poor, and all the needy in the hills bless his name.” ‘* Yet you betrayed him,” The Lion of Leadville was in a bitter mood, and he could not avoid the retort, ‘Yes, I betrayed him,” replied Red Kit, all the fire gone from her voice; ‘‘ may Heaven for- give me, [ betrayed him! [ would give my own life now if I could undo the mischief. es, I could even see him go away with—that other woman. I could forget my own troubles in one way, if not in another. There are none too sin- ful, and low, for death to be beyond their reach.” ‘‘Come, come, girl,” said Turpin, beginning to feel guilty for plunging her into such sorrow, ‘*this will not do. Whatever you have done, there is a better future ahead of you. Wrong- doing is better atoned for by living well, than dying ill, But let us drop this subject. Search for Sibylla Marcy if you will, and when you find her, we will talk again.” Red Kit was silent for a moment, and then she abruptly replied: ‘*T will find them!” With these words she glided away into the darkness. Dick watched her out of sight, and then re- sumed his own way, turning his steps toward Bowie Ben’s quarters. ‘**T almost pity her, despite what she has done. She was once as light-hearted and buoyant as a bird, and deep sorrow has come to her. I could forgive what she has done me, but not what she has brought to Lois. When I think of that, it maddens me. Only for Red Kit’s work Lois would now be my wife, and I should be many miles away, with all chances of living an honest, happy life, respected by all. And now—now— what must Lois think of me?” He ground his teeth at the thought, and again his anger rose hotly against the girl. Knowing, as he did, that Bowie Ben loved her, he had of late hoped, when in a more merciful mood, that they would marry and Red Kit be saved toa happy life, but in his present mood he resolved at this should never be if he could influence en. Red Kit must nap as she had sown. On reaching his ally’s room he found him just going out to take his place at the supposed Dick Turpin’s bed; for Ben had the night watch. He asked him to sit down, however. ‘“Pve been Sn gs Ben, that I want to give you another piece of labor.” ‘* Name it, captain,” was the prompt reply. ‘When I think of Lois Legrand, and remem- ber how she must regard me, it seems as though my troubles would prove more than J can en- dure. Our band had a worse name than it de- served, and I, as leader, was called a cut-throat. Imagine what Lois must think of a man who, wooing her under honest guise, proves to be Dick Turpin!” ‘“‘ Tt is hard, captain.” * Villainously hard!” ‘Why don’t you see her?” ‘*T dare not.” ‘‘Surely, she would not betray you.” ‘‘T do not fear that; she is by far too noble; but I do fear to go to her, now that she knows whol am, I fear she would drive me from her sight like the vile wretch that I am.” ‘Tt is said that woman’s love can outlive all things.” ‘¢ All but dishonor. Lois is all that I would have her, but her very qualities which are so ad- -mirable would lead her to despise me, an outlaw and road-agent.” Bowie Ben shook his head. ‘*T wish I could help you, captain, but the fact is, | know very little about how to manage a woman. They are justlike a sail-boat; you’ve got to know how to handle the sails, and steer the craft, or there will be an everlasting row right through the whole cruise,” hereupon the handsome young road-agent, feeling himself a philosopher, took a large bite of oer and rolled it gracefully around his outh, *¢ Well, I have an idea, Ben.” ra And want my help? Good! Name the idea, ‘*T want you to go to Lois and deliver a mes- sage,” ‘* From you?” ‘““No. That is, not directly. I want you togo there, introduce yourself as a friend of, Dick Turpin, of Leadville, now lying at the point of death, and so on, and say to her that he has been maligned; that he is not so bad as men assert,” . ** By George! that’s not a bad idea.” “It will gradually pave the way for me. See?” ** Just so, and, by the'time you get around, she will have a better idea of you. Well, you can count me in, right from the word ‘go.’ What- ever I can do, shall be done!” 2? ee o_O ._ — 0V00€wwC oss Turpin, the Lion of Leadville. oe Dick grasped his ally’s hand and shook it warmly. ‘*T felt that I could depend on your loyalty, Ben, and it is for you to show your diplomatic skill. Try to establish a good footing there; say all for me that you can truthfully—no more, Ben; no more, mind you; and try to turn her mind toward forgiveness, Represent yourself as my warm personal friend, and assure her that you know beyond question that, had I got away from here, I should have lived an honest life af- terward. This is a fact.” Ben promised to attend to all the fine points of the affair, and then, as he was more than due at the sheriff’s bedside, Dick walked over there with him. The sick man’s condition was, on the whole, favorable. His burns were doing very well, and were not likely to leave any disfiguring marks; and his fever was not, as yet, alarming. There was no way but for it to run its course, and the result lay with time. The doctors were sure there was no severe in- jury to his head, and, though now unconscious of all that was transpiring around him, he was likely to recover full reason when the fever left him. He now lay restlessly on his pillow, muttering a good deal, but never in a way which would indicate who, or what, he was. As long as he continued thus, he was not likely to expose the road-agent’s deceit, and, had there been no other complications, Dick Turpin would have felt se- cure for some days. But there were other complications, the chief of which arose from the presence of the Man with the Scar. He knew just who Dick was, and a word from him would hurl the adventurer to ruin, That word was liable to be spoken at any time, and the Lion of Leadville was, indeed, liv~ ing over a smoldering volcano, eaving the hospital, Dick went outside. The hour had grown late and but few people were abroad. He paused near the corner of the build- ing and looked around, undecided as to his next move. As he did so he noticed something which at once claimed his attention. Adjoining the hos- pital building was a smaller one, the roof of which reached only to the main windows of the hospital. It was when looking in that direction that the ex-road-agent saw a dark form outlined against the sky. It disappeared almost in the same moment that he discovered it, but enough time had been giv- en for him to realize that a man was standing on the roof. Instantly the Lion was on the alert. He did not believe that any legitimate object had taken the man there, and he determined to know more about him. Quickly, but quietly, he glided around the building and reached the rear. He was not sur rised to find a ladder leaning against the side. om that point the prowler was invisible, but Dick was sure that he was still on the roof, which was flat, and he crept lightly up the ladder, Reaching the eaves, he looked for the un- known.’ What he saw did not surprise him. The man was close to one of the windows, on his knees, and a slight clicking told that he was trying to force the window. CHAPTER XVIII, THE TRAP AND THE VICTIM. : A GRIM smile swept over the Leadville Lion’s- face. He had given particular attention to these windows before, and knew that nothing short of an explosion would give the prowler ad- mittance. He was not afraid of that, but he had a theory as to the identity of the man, and intended to learn how correct it was. With all possible caution be drew himself u to the roof. The prowler was still at his wor and heard nothing. With a cat-like step, Dick moved along the firm roof, which neither creaked nor rattled un- der his fect. He reached the would-be burglar’s. side and laid his hand on the man’s shoulder. Instantly, the latter sprung to his feet, showin considerable agility, but as he tu: ned he saw Dic standing before him, while a leveled revolver looked him straight in the face. As Dick had surmised, the prowler was Duke Hallock, his ex-lietenant! Duke seemed dumfounded, but the Lion of Leadville spoke in a hard voice: ‘‘Hands up! Make one move to fight or es— es i and you are a dead man!” allock seemed to find words hard to com- mand, but he finally muttered: “Well, I reckon you've got the drop on me.” ‘*T have,” was the cool reply. ‘‘ What have I done that you should cover me with a weapon liable to blow my brains out at: any moment?” " “Come, don’t act the fool! mepatiantly re- plied the adventurer. *‘Do you know who I am?” : “Sheriff Bradstreet, possibly.” “That's my name. Well, I find you sh to break in here, anid you have the folly to ask what: harm you were doing. Drop it! Let us talk like men, Why did you want to break into the hospital?” Eomiecboo (C | | | | | wll io ‘S eo