Beadle's Dime Library No. 387 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

eis re ——- <2) = ss a i a ee ae PCE sas SEN ESE FST SA ete ee 10 licht of day lasted, for something told me that an avenger had risen up for that butchered family of savages, and [ half-expected to be the first victim. ‘* While I lay there, I reasoned the matter out. Some one of the Indian party must have been absent when the remainder was butchered. He —for the track waslarge and deeply impressed— had returned, and gathering what the wolves left of his kindred, burned them. I felt that he would hardly miss finding some evidence to prove the murder. The bullets might tell him much. Reason would do the rest. And would he not seek a deep and bitter vengeance? Even then he might be prowling about our camp— even then his rifle or his hatchet might be paying off the bloody score! ‘Tt seems strange to me now, recalling all I suffered at the hands of my wretched comrades, how I could feel so anxious on their account, why [ was so sy hs to warn them of their un- suspected peril. But so it was, and with the first shades of night I was on my way back to camp. rs i must have’been guided by instinct, for surely I had taken no note of my aimless wand- erings while my poor brain was so upset. But let that be es it may, I lost little time in making my way back to camp. ‘Lean see now how unwelcome was my ap- pearance, as I came upon them, just as they were eating breakfast the next morning. I can recall what black and even murderous scowls greeted me, but then I noticed them not. Weak and worn, I had thought only for their safety, and pantingly I made known my discovery. ‘‘Tt shocked and terrified them at first. I could see that from the nervous manner in which they glanced about them, from their hur- ried inspection of their weapons. But it soon wore off as the hours passed and they failed to detect any signs of an enemy having been prowl- ing about While they slept. And then—_ Look!” he suddenly gasped, opening his eyes which had drooped during the last few minutes, gy pa, toward the door, where stood a tall, dark figure with folded arms. ‘‘My God! itis the demon! the Indian avenger?” Rex Stuart gave a sharp exclamation as he recognized the strange man who had proclaimed himself Dark Durg, the Ishmaelite! CHAPTER Vi. LOP-EARED MOSE SEEKS A MARKET. Both Damon Wingfold and his son sprung to their feet at the sound of that voice beyond the closed door, but only in this respect were their actions similar. The elder man, with chattering teeth and a wild, hunted look in his greenish- eray eyes, shrunk back toward the furthest corner of the room, the very picture of super- stitious fear. Earl Wingfold, on the other hand, drew a re- volver from beneath his coat, thumb on hammer as he reached back and caught his father by the arm, checking him and hastily muttering: ‘Open the door! Pll blow him through the moment—” All this in a single breath, and before the choking pening VOC could add aught to the name of Dark urg. Then, plainer, clearer, cutting short the fierce muttering of the younger man, came the words: : “Lively, old fel! -Lose fun—gay old row— Dark Durg in town! I’m off for a hoss, and if ou—” z The excited voice died away as its owner hur- ried on with partly restored breath, but he had said enouzh to give father and son an inkling of the error into which they had fallen. Earl broke into a laugh. Damon snarled out a curse as his aaa hands grasped the brandy decanter, his teeth still chattering, his ulpine countenance blanched as white as its tural texture would allow. ‘* Tm thinking you kept back a good bit of the truth, daddy, when you spoke of this wonderful Dark Durg,” said Earl, showing his white teeth in a malicious smile as he replaced his weapon and picked up his hat. ‘‘I’m burning up to hear the whole story, but it’l] have to keep for a little, I reckon.” ‘Where are you going, Earl?’ muttered Damon as the other turned to the door. ‘I don’t want—to stay alone—ugh!” “You heard what he said? Dark Durg in town, kicking up a row! I’ve got a score to set- tle with the rascal, and [ll take horse with Jim Piner as the shortest way to get at the facts,” ‘“ Kill him, sonny! Don’t let him talk! Kill him right off—but take care of yourself!” hur- riedly muttered the old man, as Earl turned the key in the lock and opened the door. Tl] domy level best, bet your life, gov’nor,” with a laughing yet grim nod. ‘‘ One comfort; I can’t well make a bigger botch of it than I be- gin to see you must have, once on a time! So- long, dad!” ' As the tall figure darted away up the street and vanished amid the shadows, Damon Wing- fold closed the door and turned the key in the lock. He stood with ear bent for afew minutes, but if there was any unusual disturbance in town, it must have been at a distance too great for the sounds to reach his position. He stood thus until he caught the rapid clat- oe = i He eee eee eee eee eee ee ee ee ee ee Ee ee Eee ee a as Dark Durg, the Ishmael of the Hills. ter of iron-shod hoofs, and drew a long breath as he felt assured that Earl, in company with his bosom friend and comrade in extravagance, Jim Piner, whose sharp summons and panting ejaculation had so curiously misled them both, was already on the track of his deadly enemy. ‘*Tf he can only meet and kill the demon!” hissed tho old man, now more like his ordinary self as he shuffled back to the table and mechan- ically refilled his glass with the amber liquid. ‘“Tf I knew that this night would see the last of—” The sound of his own voice seemed to startle him, for closing his jaws with a click, he glared around the dingy room as though looking for | the speaker. Only for a, moment. The knowl- edge that Earl and Others were on the track of Dark Durg seemed to revive his natural courage. And Damon Wingfold was not a craven so far as physical qualities go, despite the abject terror he had displayed while fancying Dark Durg was battering at the door in order to grapple with him in vengeance for the black, ieeeter: ous past. Scores of times in the days gone by he had ventured his life when the odds seemed all against him, with a light laugh and a sneer on his thin lips. More than once he had gazed into the weapon-of an adversary on the mis-called ‘field of honor,” his nerves steady and true, And even now, in comparative old age, it was very seldom that he thought twice of the result or paused to count the odds when aught was to be gained by either hard knocks or bold bluff- ing. Only on this one point was he at all supersti- tious or fearful. It was only the thoughts of Dark Durg, the Ishmael of the Hills, that could unnerve him now, Dark and frowning were his wrinkled brows as he sat staring at the untasted liquor in his glass. And then his thin lips parted to emit short, broken sentences which gradually grew more connected and intelligible. ‘Tf [ only knew for sure! If I could be posi-. tive—bah!” and he clicked his yellow, wolfish teeth together as he tossed the long, thin grizzled hair back from his temples with a gesture of self-disgust. ‘‘I am growing childish and losing my nerve. That devil is dead and rotten years ago! Didn’t I see him—” His voice died away, but there was an evil light in his cold eyes that told how much com- fort the chain of thought gave him, And grad- ually the color came back to his face. e no longer started and shivered as a sound came to his ears from the night. He left the brandy untasted, but lit a fresh cigar and leaned back in his chair, his greenish. eyes half-closed, the mask wholly dropped from is face. He was not badly pleased with what had happened that night, now that he could calmly review it all. What if Earl had treated him shamefully? He was glad to see the fine young fellow waking up to business. He would make a noble ally. ‘‘That infernal likeness won’t unnerve his arm when he meets Dark Durg!” the old rascal muttered, with a show of his fangs. ‘‘ He’ll think only of the lost cache, and strike swift and sure to remove one claimant from the path.” Once more his narrow brows contracted and a puzzled look came into his eyes. ‘It was bad enough when he comes only as the avenger of those infernal red-skins, but to lay claim to being Milo Garth! Dead and rot- ted, agesago! I can take oath to that! And yet—how comes he with that same look in his eyes? It sent a chill of horror and superstitious fear straight to my heart! For an instant I really believed a ghost from the past had risen to haunt me for—for—” There was a peculiar choking in his throat, and his husky speech died away in inarticulate murmurs. sip of brandy appeared to relieve this, as well as to brace him up again, for a low chuckling laugh came gurgling u»in his throa as he leaned back and gazed with half-shut eyes through the curling smoke wreaths. For full an hour he sat thus, thinking, plot- ting; clearing away the tangles that rose in the evil path he was tracing out step by step. Now going back to the past of long ago, then return- ing to the present, showing his wolfish teeth as he gloated over the vain struggles of the man whom he had hated and loathed ever since their boyhood. Then, a sharp rap at the office door brought his feet to the floor and his hand to a pistol butt. Breathlessly he listened, a grayish shade settling over his wrinkled face, that old fear returning again. ' af I say, boss, ef you’re to home, say so!” came a hoarse, impatient voice without, and followed by another rapping on the panels. ‘* Who are you, and what do you want?” re- sponded Wingfold, a breath of relief breaking from his lungs. As yet he had not recognized the voice, but he was certain it did not belong to the enemy of whom he first thought at hearing the rap. *‘ Heap good fri’nd, an’ you'd orter be the fu’st one to know that, boss! Think o’ that night when Darby croaked!” ith a quick stride Damon Wingfold reached SSS rE | the door, turning the key in the lock and open- ing the door, through which a tall, heavy figure slipped the moment the aperture was wide SO tete as quickly shutting the barrier behind im. ‘* You here, Mose Sawyer!” ejaculated Wing- fold, surprise written on every line of his face. ** 1 thought you were safe in California!” Lop-eared Mose grinned after a sickly fashion as he strode to the table and without waiting to change from decanter to glass, drank long and eagerly of the strong waters. His flashy attire had suffered severely that evening. ‘Torn and soiled with both dirt and—~ it was blood! And there were blood lines along me side of his face, not yet dried enough to peel Ou, All this Damon Wingfold took in at a glance, and his brows wrinkled even more than natural as he silently turned the key in the lock. Watchful as a wild animal, Lop-eared Mose noted this action, and he grinned sulkily. “That’s all right enough, boss, but it ain’t jest as you think. The perlice ain’t on my track fer anything I’ve did to-night. Ef I’ve binin a row—an’ I ain’t denyin’ of it—I fit on the right side, fer once. Anyway, I kin fetch three good men to sw’ar to that effec’ !” Wingfold started, his eyes beginning to glisten. ‘*Not with Dark Durg?” ** Dark Se: or Dark Devil, one or tother, sure!” and the burly rough dropped into a chair drawing a long breath of relief. * ‘You killed him? Say you left him dead!” hoarsely muttered Damon, leaning forward, the picture of intense anxiety and longing. Only to sink into a chair with a smothered oath as the Droop-eared Daisy slowly shook his bk. a | in denial. ‘‘EKf I did, I ain’t knowin’ to the fact, boss! But ef hp hold a interest thar, don’t throw it up yit. Heap lot o’ critters tuck his trail, an’ ef they don’t fetch him to Limerick, ’tain’t beca’se they don’t mean clean business from the word jump!” ‘* He’s a devil! He'll escape them again, just as he has a score of times before this! Nothing can kill him, nothing will choke him off but a taste of—” Lop-eared Mose made a slight rustle as he leaned forward to catch a plainer view of the muttering man’s face, and this sound recall- ed Damon Wingfold to his cld prudence and cunning, He brushed a trembling hand across his face and when it fell, he seemed calm and composed again. ‘¢ A friend of my sori’s passed by here not long ago, saying something about a row in which this fellow, Dark Durg as he calls himself, was concerned, They set out to join in the pursuit, or something ot the sort—I really didn’t pay much attention. When you spoke of a row, and fighting on the side of justice, I thought perhaps you might have been with them,” .Glibly enough his tongue rattled on, but Lop- eared ture to be deceived so easily. He knew that for some reason Damon Wingfold took an intense interest in this Dark Durg. But, after all, that did not concern him, though it might be as well to bear the fact in mind. nowledge was better than power, sometimes, since it could be readily turned into gold, . ‘*T didn’t see much o’ the p’izen critter, that’s a fact, boss. Jest when he come out the heaviest I wasn’t in the best o’ trim fer takin’ a fly at sech a mighty tough cock as folks say he is,” and Lop-eared Mose gingerly touched the tip of bis forefinger to the furrow through hisscalp which had been cut by the bullet discharged by Humpy Dick as he lay helpless on the ground when Rex Stuart scattered his enemies. ; ‘Of course you know that there is a big price set on his head, dead or alive?” slowly nebeat Da- mon Wingfold. : f Lop-eared Mose grinned slightly, shaking his ead, ‘‘ Neyer even hearn tell 0’ him by name afore the p’izen critter belched it out over the other side 0 town this night. Mebbe you don’t know it, but I’ve bin livin’ a sorter quiet an’ ’tired life °’ late.” ‘*T heard you were stopping at San Quentin,” laughed Wingfold, taking up a cigar and light- ing it. ‘‘ How did you get cut?” ‘Jest left. They was too durn perticklar. Kept a gent workin’ all day, an*made him go to bunk with the chickens. No fun, no lush, no nothin’ but kicks an’ cusses an’ sech onmannerly doin’s. I didn’t like it, an’ so hunted another boardin’ place.” . Clumsy enough, but Damon Wingfold-under- stood his meaning; he had broken prison by some means, and, eluding pursuit, had made his way to Denver, Not without doing some pro- fessional work in the interval, judging by his dress and flashy jewelry. In truth, Damon Wingfold was not particu- larly pleased at seeing the Droop-eared Daisy, though in times gone by he had made some use of him as a ready, unscrupulous tool. Just at present, however, he would prefer being alone with his thoughts while awaiting the re- ion of his hopeful offspring with news of Dark urg. i — Ss com “S a 2 (E oe) ose was too keen a judge of human na- © / Six coat | Eom { ’ swe EE : ‘ ye & —