Beadle's Dime Library No. 387 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

"4 t ——- -—>-- -— — © Ser = - cad Le a -* — —a ~ - ~ a A me = ANS > - t oe” va." » ; . ‘to cover. 28 ne ee Gradually they passed around the little camp, ‘an. their hopes waxed higher as they saw that, while talking and occasionally laughing, the enemy seemed on their guard. If they expected no attack, if they had given no occasion for such, would they be so well prepared? Still on, until they could leave the broken ground for the level, and gain a point almost directly opposite that which the main force was And then, moving foot by foot, part- ing the bushes without making a rustle to betray them, Jack Jones led the way to a point from whence he could part the leafy screen and gaze directly out upon the camp of the enemy. ‘““Stiddy, now, boss!” warningly muttered Jones, as he peered forth. Close beside him Maurice Wingfold looked out, his breath coming short and quick as he caught sight of Damon Wingfold just emerging from the little tent. Jones turned toward him, warned by the savage curse that came from those thin lips, but he was too late! ‘* You devil! give me back my child!” screamed Damon, firing as he sprung forward upon his hated half-brother, who uttered a wild cry of terror as he turned to flee, closely pursued by the avenger. And with wild yells, the men charged camp, shooting at every jump! CHAPTER XVIII. THE GRAVE GIVES UP ITS DEAD. A STRANGE scene, truly! The outer chamber of Dark Durg’s den was lighted up with a dozen candles. The table, the stools, the rude bed had disappeared, leaving only the grim weapons on the walls. On one side, sitting on the rock floor, their backs propped against the rough wall, were four men, their hands and feet bound, their jaws gagged, only their gleaming eyes telling of life and sensibility. On one hand, George Little; on the other Mark Oberlin; between them, elbow to elbow, Rex Stuart and Louis Knapp! To the right, lying on a few skins, his head raised and ag Sige against the rock wall, is Humpy Dick, his face thin and deathlike, but with a wild, intense glitter in his sunken eyes. To their left, nearer the passage which Jeads to the second chamber, is a gaunt, gray-haired fizure, bound and gagged just as the four gold- hunters are. But in his eyes one can detect lit- tie save terror, while theirs are glowing with stern indignation and a longing for revenge for ° the outrage they have received. Directly opposite the gold-hunters, two men are lying, their heads also slightly elevated, as tthough to afford them a fair view of their sur- voundings. One shows a broad bruise crossing ‘bis temple and one a The other shows blood- stained bandages about his person, whilo his thin, foxy-looking face seems blanched by the loss of blood. The first is Ear) Wingfold. The second is his father, Damon Wingfold. A strange congregation, truly! How came they there? By what wonderful address had Dark Durg succeeded in bringing all his enemies to this one spot, each one helpless and at his mercy? After leaving Rex Stuart with Humpy Dick, Dark Durg led the three gold-hunters back to the first chamber. He placed food and drink before them, partaking heartily himself, and thus banishing the faint suspicions which linger- ed in the mind of Louis Knapp. Whether the Ishmael of the Hills deceived their eyes by a cunning pretense, or whether he really ate and drank with them, trusting to a stronger constitution or to an antidote against the poison which so anes and completely de- prived them of the power of speech and motion, certain it is that he was ge nacre unaffected, while they fell heavily to the rock floor, where Rex Stuart beheld them a few minutes later, ap- parently dead. For himself, after being choked to insensibility, he was bound and gagged, to ultimately recover his senses and fin himself in company with his mates, all equally alive, equally helpless. amon Wingfold had wounded his brother, but not sufficiently to disable him or check his mad flight. He followed through the bushes, into the gulch, over rocks and obstacles, his eyes filled with blood, the long-nursed hatred over- powering all else, urging him on without thought or fatigue or danger, even as a sadden panic lent Damon Wingfold power to flee so far and for so long. i There was a grapple, a fall, a mad, wild-beast- like fight where claws and teeth took the mace of more deadly weapons. There was a dizzy whirl, ending in a blank, broken by a return to consciousness in this cave; for the white-haired man who reclined on the left of the gold-hunters, was none other than Maurice Wingfold. And Earl Wingfold? wet All he could have said, were the use of his lips given him, runs thus: A sharp, whistling sound past his ears just as he reaches the horses with recious Wingfold in his arms, silent, senseless, wholly at hismercy. A gurgling, gasping groan as Giles Gregory sinks down in death, an arrow through his heart. Then—a mountain seems to fall upon his head, and he knows no more for hours. Dark Durg When consciousness did return, his limbs were bound, his eyes were blinded. And thus they remained until he was brought here, to be placed beside his father, likewise a helpless cap- tive. Grim and silent, alone and unassisted, Dark Durg had arranged them after this fashion, then vanished througb the narrow passage leading to the second chamber, from that to still a third, where he now stood before a young woman, -ale, trembling, yet still more than ordinarily ovely in face as she was graceful and perfect in figure. ‘*T can trust your ears, but not your eyes nor tongue,” he was saying, in cold, measured tones as he dropped a dark cloth over her head, secur- ing it about her waist with a cord. ‘* Swear that you will not utter a word until I give you permission, by removing this blind, or, disagree- able as such a course will be to me, I must gag you as well,” ‘*T promise, if—” ‘* You shall see your father—shall lover, alive and well,” interposed the the Hills. ‘¢ Then—I promise what you ask!” Dark Durg supported and guided her foot- steps as he led the way to the outer chamber, pausing inthe center of the apartment, gazin sternly over those startled faces, even as he pm. his vailed companion were stared at. And as Rex Stuart uttered an inarticulate cry, striving to burst his bonds, believing he recognized his loved one, Dark Durg drew a long knife and held it poised above the maiden’s heart, his eyes flashing viciously, his face hard and merci- less. : Unconscious of this, Precious Wingfold leaned upon his arm, trembling, breathlessly waiting the end of this painful mystery. And seeing how defenseless she was, how impotent were his maddest efforts, Rex Stuart yielded, with a silent appeal for mercy filling his eyes, ape cutting little time to waste, Dark Durg spoke: ‘* Why have I taken so much trouble to gather you together? Listen for a few minutes, and you can answer that question yourselves.” Without further preface, he told the story of the ill-starred expedition which left Cherry Creek, before Denver was Denver. He briefly but clearly explained the terms on which that party was formed. How Sterling Coin, acting as guide, was to receive one-fourth of the amount gained by the entire party. How Milo Garth, in return for fitting them all out for the trip, paying for everything, was to receive another fourth part, leaving the remaining half to be divided among the six men who completed the a your shmael of party. He told of their success in finding much gold, but as his words were but little more than a repetition of the story told by Humpy Dick on that eventful night in Denver, which has al- ready been placed before the reader, there is no need of following him closely until after passing the point where Humpy Dick spoke of the ac- count given by the man who went out on a hunt with Milo Garth. ‘‘Up to the moment when they separated at the foot of the hill up which the wounded elk had dashed, one to take each side of the hill in hopes of striking the blood-trail on the other slope, Milo Garth had never even suspected how Damon Wingfold hated him, much less did he anticipate that his life was being plotted against, through greed of gold. “‘ Being quick of foot and sound of wind, Milo Garth reached the further side ahead of his com- rade, and satisfying himself that the elk had not crossed the hill, but was in all probability lying deed near the top, he waited for the com- ing of his comrade. And while so doing, he in- terested himself in examining a curious grave and its contents. ‘‘On a rude scaffolding of poles, standing close beside the rocky bluff which here over- looked the deep and rapid river, Milo Garth found one of those open-air tombs which are still to be occasionally met with in the heart of the hills. Wrapped in blankets, now frayed by long exposure to wind and weather, an Indian warrior rested in his last sleep. And it was while examining this that Milo Garth fell before the treacherous aim of his supposed friend, Damon Wingfold!” The man whose name was thus coupled with an atrocious crime, writhed and squirmed, striving to deny the accusation, but in vain. His bonds were too well applied, and Dark Durg resumed; ‘The shot was aimed only too truly, and Milo Garth fell. He struggled but little, yet that little was enough to cause his body to roll over and plunge downward into the roaring river! And as the assassin rushed forward, he may have caught a passing glimpse of the corpse as it was tossed here and there by the foaming, swirling waters! ‘‘ With savage curses the murderer followed the river for some distance, hoping the bod would lodge, where he could produce it as evi- dence to sustain the cunning story he had al- ready concocted in his mind; but he finally had to abandon that hope, The body disappeared, and he saw it no more. “< ee MPO pee Po a oe ee. eee aa TS : the Ishmael of the Hills. ‘* He feared to return to camp without being guarded at every point, for be knew that be- tween Milo Garth and Sterling Coin there exist- ed a deep and earnest love. And so he added sacrilege to murder!” In a hard, cold tone Dark Durg repeated the story told by Humpy Dick as to the search for the remains of Milo Garth. Then he added: ‘*“'Those charred bones came from the Indian’s grave! The sickening stench arose from chunks of elk-meat, and not from human flesh! And as Sterling Coin was turned deathly sick by the sight of the horrible fate which he believed had befallen his friend, 1t was easy to deceive the rest. And, almost without inspection, the re- mains were buried. ‘“‘ After the first shock was overcome, only Sterling Coin gave a tear or single regret for the frightful doom which had overtaken the man to whom they all owed their rapidly in- creasing fortune. And before many days passed over their heads, they were openly rejoicing at his death. Jt would leave three-fourths to be divided between them alone; for of course the share of Sterling Coin was large enough without an adition, Large enough? Too large! Why should he be so greatly favored? He worked no harder than the rest—not so hard, indeed. And now, he worked .not at all, pretending to be overcome with grief! It was but lazy hypoc- risy, instead! If he only was sick—ill enough O— ‘*Tt was not hard to come to that point. And then, from vague mutterings, they gradually grew to cursing the poor devil, to hoping that he would soon have the good grace to clear out, to die or cut his own throat. And then—only the stealthy flight of the poor devil, more than half- mad, saved him from being murdered! “Grime leads to crime. From the cunning story concocted by Damon Wingfold, in putting the murder of Milo Garth on an imagina party of Indians, rose a tragedy that led to still others, that gave birth to the Gold Phantom, that brings us here to end all with a just retri- bution for crimes that can scarcely be paralleled even in the annals of the blood-stained gold country ! ‘** The devil seemed playing into the hands of Damon Wingfold, for he discovered the proxim- ity of an Indian, or, rather, a half-breed family, much as he had described on that bloody day. And partly to avenge the death of their leader, but more to prevent the possible leaking out of their golden secret, the white men stole upon this unsuspecting, innocent family, and brutally butchered them, not sparing even the babe at its mother’s breast! ‘* What matter? They were only savages. If not full-blooded, all the worse for their mixture. ‘Tn his half-crazed wanderings, Sterling Coin came across the scene of the massacre, but there had been others before him, since the noble avengers left their victims. Some one had col- lected the wolf-scattered remains, and burned them. And as Sterling Coin saw moccasin-tracks about the fire, a sudden fear cleared his clouded brain. He believed that vengeance would be sought. And forgetting how he had fled from these same men in fear for his life, forgetting all save that they were of his own color, and had once called him pard, he managed to make his way back to camp and tell his strange story. **For days he lay weak, helpless, exhausted, little better than a dying man. And during that time, Damon Wingfold and one other, whose name I will soon pronounce, plotted together and determined to add to their riches by committing still another crime. ‘* Late one afternoon Damon Wingfold came in, pale and trembling, declaring that he had been twice shot at by an Indian, only escaping with life as by a miracle. That he had been pur- sued for more than a mile, with a malignant per- sistence that could only be explained in cne way: tke avenger feared by Sterling Coin was at last on their track! us ‘This was terrible tidings to all who were not in the secret, and when Damon Wingfold and his confederate proposed a hasty packing up and flicht that same night, the rest gladly assented. ter all, there would be little lost. The placer was pretty well worked out, and they could surely throw the avenger off the scent before reaching the fresh deposit which Sterling Coin had located for their next camp. ““And he, poor devil! little suspecting the atrocious plot of which he was destined to prove the victim, rose from his sick bed and worked busily as the best for the midnight flitting! ‘“The rude huts were left standing, and the usual fires were kindled in front of them. To all seeming, the camp was occupied, even after the gold-hunters had stolen silently away to where their animals were hidden with the first shades of night. And silently, ghost-like, they fled through the night from an imaginary aven- ger! ‘““'T> all save Damon Wingfold and his con- federate, that phantom was a dreaded reality, and they, malicious as all such villains are, took delight in raising alarms as they journeyed on, chuckling in their sleeves at the terror exhibited by their dupes, little imagining how perilously near the truth thev were treading all the time. For even as they fied from a phantom, as they 5 —— = oa a Eomicboo © a? > thls