Beadle's Dime Library No. 387 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

SSSA paulo ~ ‘ <tewe + a ee ——s — f << ~~ ow eos = +—- ua aoa. “= =< ES em boy se ft aes - ow 0 ee Oe le ee re Sree - rx oOo at es — " AAT 5 te al —~ +o : - Wingfold naturally possessed, it proved to him ~ ~ ' hand prisoner. ~ r 4 Rig - away, rose a bright light, plainly a camp-fire. ‘thes He's a fine fellow, if he has acted a little hastily. —if he only brings to light that long lost treas- 9. + 26 ‘* How close are we to the camp?’ demanded Earl, whose keen eyes had vainly searched for some indication by which he could judge for him- self. ‘' Talk up, and to the point!” ‘‘ Waal, I wouldn’tlike to say to a foot—quar- ter, reckon!” Ear! Wingfold leaned over in the saddle, and shook a hard fist directly before the eyes of the drawling scout, bringing forth the desired information much sooner than he dared hope for. ‘** Good enough, old man,” with a grim laugh as he swung himself out of the saddle. ‘* Talk like that all the time, and we’ll get along splen- didly together. "Light and bring your animal after me. Wecan hitch in here, and run little risk of any one’s stumbling over them before we get back.’ The horses were hitched a few yards up the slope, guarded against discovery by the thick- lying bowlders and an occasional clump of bushes and stunted trees. Then, after carefully marking the location, to guard against missing the animals in case of an emergency, Earl Wing- fold motioned Giles to lead the way. Two-score yards carried them over the little rise, and then they came to a sudden halt. Di- rectly before them, only a few hundred yards ‘*The same place you meant?” muttered Earl, turning to Gregory. That worthy nodded. He seemed in holy awe of this impetuous young fellow who was not content to let a man talk as nature dictated. So far as possible he meant to trust to signs here- after. *“ Allright. You keep at my heels, and ready for fichting or running just asI give the ex- ample,” coolly uttered Wingfold, crouching under cover as well as might be, and rapidly ap- proaching the camp. This he had not yet fairly seen, though the red light of a fire was plain enough; but ere long he came around a little curve in the base of the hill and could see quite distinctly. The camp was pitched between the base of the hills and the little river which wound along through the valley, the level tract being well supplied with grass for the animals, which he could see grazing a few rods below the camp roper. ~ This consisted of two small tents, pitched side by side, partially hidden from view by a bend- ing tree and a half-circle of shrubbery. A fire was built a few paces in front of the tents, and beside this— ae: Instinctively his hand rose to cover his lips, for an involuntary ery rose in his throat, as he saw two figures move out from the tents and pause in the full light of the camp-fire. An oath, not of anger or disappointment, however; rather of fierce, vicious exultation. One was tall, thin, stoop-shouldered, white- haired; the other trim, graceful, moving with au elastic step that spoke of youth and perfect health. As yet their faces were hidden from the glittering gaze of the spy, but he needed not that additional proof as so their identity. The man was Maurice Wingfold, and the wo- man was his daughter, Precious! It was a remarkable coincidence, truly, but Earl Wingépld did not waste time in asking what it all meant. He knew almost as surely as though he bad been told in plain words, what had brought them to this wild, remote spot. He knew that they must have learned of the party in chase of Rex Stuart, and were seeking to find and put him on his guard. : Tnstead of uneasiness or fear, this belief only sent a thrill of grim pleasure through his veins. With the information which Maurice that Rex Stuart must be in their immediate neighborhood. And that meant the close prox- imity of the long lost cache ! A single glance showed him that Maurice Wingfold had come well prepared to fight or re- sist attack should trouble ensue. Near a second fire, built a few rods away and partly hidden from the covert in which the two spies crouched Egrl Wingfold could catch glimpses of armed men, though he could not tell just how strong the force was, Nor did he try very _long, for the sweet, clear voice of Precious Wingfold came to his ears, and in hopes of learning some- thing of importance, he listened. ** Not back yet, father!” and there was a trace of impatient anxiety in her tones as she glanced toward the lower campfire. ‘* Not yet,” was the response, ‘I don’t think I can have made a mistake in the spot, though I only had a glimpse of the chart. If that hot- headed boy—” et : A little ae flitted over his lips, cutting short peech. Maurice Wingfold laughed as ho took the “Tm not going to abuse Rex, little one. I never fairly appreciated him before, but now ure! “In finding one treasure for you, father, he will win one for himself? Is that what you were about to say?’ archly laughed the maiden, blushing divinely, little thinking what a baneful s A el tees : 5a’ ° ‘v | 5. = am Wy + Te be rate ue ¥ ' i; le ¢ ‘ ‘ ‘ ' : so 7 ' ; & 4 : Py ; ' ’ & aug ith REE ae ———— ke oO ENT a eee Se. = _ — ——— —_—— = a_i glare was fixed upon her fair face at that very moment, ‘*Wait and see what Rex will say, a year from hence, you little vixen!” laughed the old man, falling in with her humor, though his face soon giew grave and troubled again, his voice likewise altering: ‘‘ If Jones would only joa I can’t think what is keeping him so ong!’ ‘If he only brings Rex back with him, father!” quickly added Precious, her hands clasp- ing, her eyes glowing in the firelight. ‘And Rex brings the Gold Phantom!” added Wingfold, laughing nervously. ‘‘If wishes were horses, how grandly we might all travel!” They fell into silence, sitting beside the cheery camp-fire, gazing into the glowing embers, each busied with thoughts which Earl Wingfold had no difficulty in interpreting correctly. His own eyes were glowing with an ugly, dangerous light. His hand fumbled mechanically at his pistol, and if looks could kill, Maurice Wingfold would never have risen to his feet unaided again. ' That mention of ‘‘ Jones” troubled him. Could it be Jack Jones, the same rough diamond who had risked his life in defense of Rex Stuart that night in Denver, when he and his ‘“ heelers” sought to put an enemy out of the way and gain an important clew to the lost cache at the same time? If so—if he was out scouting—might not he discover that other camp? Might he not find the two horses hidden away among those rocks, and thus suspect the truth? If so— Earl Wingfold was just on the point of beat- ing a retreat, when he saw Maurice rise to his feet and move toward the lower fire, leaving Precious alone. She did notappear to notice the action, her eyes bent onthe fire, a pleased smile playing around her red lips. Jarl Wingfold showed his teeth savagely. If the fires were only a few yards further apart! Or if his good horse was nearer by! One bold dash—a few moments of exposure—a hard gal- lop—and they would hold the enemy wholly at their mercy. For where his loved child was threatened with death or worse, surely even the love of gold would not be sufficient to make Maurice Wingfold hold out long! Even as the fierce temptation assailed him, he saw Precious Wingfold ris® to herfeet. Hoping that she might return to her tent, the rear of which he could gain under cover of the bushes, Earl waited and watched, only to draw a deep, hissing breath as he saw the maiden deneky move away toward the murmuring stream. For a moment he felt like cursing his luck, when his eyes flashed anew. Might it not even yet be accomplished? There was a gentle fail to the ground. A bush or two would aid their shade, It was worth the risk, if he could see a possibility of success, He turned and motioned Gregory to retreat the way they had come. And when beyond danger of being overheard, he spoke hastily: ‘* Strip off your shirt and give it tome. I’m going to capture the girl, if it can be done, and want you to keep close behind, ready to lend a hand if necessary. If she gives a yelp, be ready to fight or run as you seame do, I can depend on you?” The little man nodded, emphatically. ‘Tf you fail me, Ill send a bullet through your head—mind that, my fine fellow!” muttered Earl, as he assisted the other in removing his heavy flannel shirt. Gregory grinned faintly, but did not venture to trust his tongue. WIngfold rolled the shirt up and tucked it un- der his arm, crouching low and creeping along toward the river, keeping hidden from view of the enemy around the lower fire. This was no difficult task, thanks to the favorable lay of the ground, and he quickly caught sight of the maiden, who was standing near a large rock that partly bung over the water. She was gaz- ing "a the water, here shallow, rippling over a pebbly bed, its murmur proving very service- able to the villain who was so silently stealing upon her. Precious was buried in thought, one arm rest- ing on the rock. She had no thought of danger. Why should she, so near to camp, with a dozen _ of strong arms to defend her in case of need ¢ She was thinking of Rex Stuart, whom she expected to see before many more hours passed. Thinking— Earl Wingfold lea forward, flinging the flannel shirt over her head and face, twisting it tightly as he flung her to the ground, falling on and using every effort to smother her cries, his weight holding her helpless. And then strong fingers closed about her throat, until her senses reeled, fled—and all was a blank! CHAPTER XVII. GUIDED BY A PHANTOM. It was mere nervous impatience that impell- ed Maurice Wingfold to pass over to the camp- fire where his men were engaged in cooking and eating their supper. he had come from there, assured that none of them had heard or seen aught of Jack Jones, their guide. He knew that such would be the answer now, for Jones would at once report to Only a few minutes before: ' Dark Durg, | the Ishmael of the Hills, | i a ——L—————— Swemnaie a —————————L . ————S—— ——_e him, the nominal head of the expedition, the moment he came back from his investigating round. But there was so muth at stake. His veins seemed filled with quicksilver rather than ordi- nary blood. He could not rest quiet. He spent a few minutes with his men, then slowly returned to his own camp-fire. He was a little surprised at the absence of Precious, but supposing her to have returned to the privacy of her tent, he said nothing, sitting down before the fire, one hand supporting his head, his thin a grave, his eyes filled with an anxious He was thinking over the curious events of recent days, as coupled with the tragic past. In the note which he left behind him, Rex Stuart fully explamed his reasons for leaving Denver so hastily, and after such an unceremo- nious fashion. He gave his reasons for think- ing Nettie Malcom a paid spy in the employ of the enemy. And then came Jack Jones, one of the original ‘* barnacles ” of 59, whom Maurice Wingfold had frequently employed during his periodical hunts for the lost cache, telling him of the dastardly assault on Rex Stuart the night before. And not only that, but how viciously Damon Wingfold and his son were hunting for the young man, too eager to hide their move- ments from eyes so keen as his. Jack had more than a suspicion of how mat- ters stood between young Stuart and Precious. He himself loved the fair girl, much as a father might love the darling chiid of his old age; and for this reason he brought his budget to Maurice Wingfold. And in the middle of the night he roused the poe to tell him how hurriedly Damon ingfold and a goodly party had taken horse and ridden out of Denver, bound for the hills, No need to add his conviction that they were on the track of Rex Stuart. Both Preciousand her father divined the truth as by instinct. And fearing, the one for his long-coveted gold, the other for her lover, they urged Jack Jones to lose no time in getting a dozen good men, with a suitable outfit, ready for the road, And before the shades of another night fell over the earth, the third party rode rapidly away from Denver on the trail which was to end at the valley in which was buried the Gold Phantom. Thus sat Maurice Wingfold when ‘‘ Old Jack Jones” returned, his rugged, weather-beaten countenance containing more emotions than one. He cast a covert glance toward the little tents as he lowered his voice in answering the old man, who leaped to his feet with a breath- less eagerness that almost defeated his wishes. ‘* Ef [didn’t find the boy, I found his signs. Thar was his hosses an’ his mules an’ his outfit.” ‘¢ Where, then, was he?’ exclaimed Maurice Wingfold, uneasily. ‘* You tell!” muttered Jones, with a nervous glance toward the tent from whence he expected every instant to behold Precious emerge, glew- ing with glad hopes. “I waited ontel it was growin’ dark, but they didn’t nobody turn up. An’ so—without stretchin’ it out too fur—I jest left a sign which he’d be mighty apt to see an? onderstan’ the fu’st off, then moseyed back,” ‘*It is strange!” muttered Maurice, uneasily. “Surely that demon cannot have found him first, and wiped the party out?” Jones gave another glance toward the tent, his tones low and soft: ‘I didn’t see no sign. I don't reckon it’s as bad as that; but them cusses ain’t so mighty fur off, now I tell you, boss!” ‘You saw them, then?’ ‘I see a camp-fire, or the light o’ one, ruther, as I was makin’ fer this, an’ tuck a sorter scoot over yon’, I wasn’t runnin’ too big resks, ye onderstan’, boss, but I see two or three critters as I knowed was in the row that night when the imps tried fer to down Rex. Ef the head imps was in the outfit, they lay mighty close, an’ I didn’t see nothin’ of *em.” . Once more Jack Jones ‘glanced toward the tents, thinking how strange 1t was that Precious kept so close under cover. As for Maurice Wing- fold, he was deep buried in thought, his face hard-set, his sunken eyes filled with an uneasy gleam. If he had known what was passing through the troubled brain of his gue at that moment, his mental torture would have been doubled. It was true that Jones had discovered the hasty camp of the gold-hunters, but he had made a still more interesting discovery, though it was one that sorely puzzled him and almost defied explanation. A pit where the dirt had been vigorously cast around, with tools lying just where they bad been dropped by those who had handled them, A number of half-rotted skin bags, some still in- tact, others slashed open with a knife, half- emptied, their contents being worthless pebbles and sand! And when he opened the remaining ones, it was to find the same worse than value- less contents. : What did it mean? Was this the treasure so many years bad been wasted in hunting for? ‘‘ Whar’s the little lady, boss?” at length ask- ed Jones. ‘Tn her tent, I suppose. Precious!” No answer. Jones started toward the tent, _ . > . - 7 ~ " , ? Donte oe Ee eer GO ~ J . ire ce <) ty : ag 7 2 < . at eye a oat rh a é4 Wi : C od (| [] S 0 Q st : Pi pie ee SSG te. RS tsa ~ io SE Secete— a ’ a a =—s