Beadle's Dime Library No. 387 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

Dark Durg, the Ishmael of the Hills. believed, a stern reality was on their track. Even then the avengers were stealing up to the unguarded huts which the gold-hunters had so recently abandoned! ‘As the night wore on, Damon Wingfold and his fellow plotter grew more sober, The time was near when they must do the black work they had secretly plotted. Day was not so many hours distant. Before the first gray gleams of light came in the East, one more sacri- fice to the demon of gold must be made. ‘* Silently, ap af made their prepara- tions. And scarcely had they done so, when they came to a spot that promised all they could wisi for. The trail which they were following, ‘guided by the light of the nearly full moon, which would not set until after day had dawned now rose from the narrow gulch which they had wound through for some time past. was narrow. On one side the bare rocks rose almost perpendicularly. On the other was a precipitous descent. As they peered over the escarpment, even their cold blood chilled. All was dark as midnight. The keenest eye could not penetrate to the bottom. ‘What lay beneath them? Was there even a host of a chance for one falling over tre edge, “SC with life? re Wem ond Wingfold resolved to make sure, He found a fragment of rock in the trail, and with his confederate listening as well, he drop- ped the missile over into the darkness. Second after second they counted, before the dull, faint thump came back to their waiting ears, ‘Little fear of blundering this time! If the frightful fall itself did not take the breath of life away, the remorseless rocks below would make sure work! ‘A few moments more, slowly, cautiously creeping along the narrow trail, men holding their breath and pressing closely to the rock wall lest a slip of the foot, the sudden givin way of a bit of frost-eaten rock, should hur them down to certain death on the rocks below. ‘** And then—the foul deed was done! ** A shrill, reins ery of uncontrollable hor- ror! A breathless pause that seemed an age. A faint, yet blood-curdling thud coming from the black depth! And then Damon Wingfold cried out, in admirably counterfeited tones of horror and despair: ‘“*My God! trail!” Strained and harsh was the voice of the Ish- mael of the Hills as he uttered the words, yet with an intensity that sent the cold blood cbill- ing to the heart of each one who heard him then. And Damon Wingfold, ghastly as a corpse in the first stages of decay, shut his eyes and cow- ered from the bony finger that pointed him out as a murderer! ; rah “That ‘some one’ proved on investigation to be Sterling Coin,” Dark Durg resumed after a brief pause, his voice colder, harder than ever, ‘‘Tt was too dark to see aught in the chasm be- side them, but as they listened breathlessly not even a groan came back to their ears. Death must have been instantaneous, yet it was Damon Wingfold who proposed to wait where they were until the coming of day before aa further. It might be possible that life remainec in their unfortunate comrade. And he urged the pause in the name of common humanity! ‘“'There was no objection. Those who were in ignorance of the horrible truth, feared to move agein until the light of day should come to show them the dangers of the trail. They were unnerved, and cowered on the narrow trail, pressing close to the rock wall. “Thus they waited, and when the day dawn- ed, when ths sun rose high enough to cast its light into the deep gulch, they peered over the edge with pale faces, only to sbrink back with gasps of horror as they caught a glimpse of the rightful scene. Not so Damon Wingfold. He gazed steadily at the shapeless mass which lay over a hundred feet below them, ina pool of blood. He mark- ed its course by the bits of cloth that the sharp rocks had retained—by the crushed and broken bushes. And gazing, he laughed in his heart, for he now felt that his horrible secret was safe —for his confederate would not dare even hint at the black truth! ‘¢ But I dare!” Dark Durg cried, his tall form rising even taller, his black eyes glowing like living coals of fire, his bony fin Damon Wingfold as he cowered in his bonds, trembling like a leaf—‘‘I dare accuse you of causing that accident, as you called it! 1 dare swear you pushed Sterling Coin from the trail, to meet worse than death on the rocks below!” A faint moan came from the vailed woman. The gold-hunters looked in horror and aversion at the accused, whose face but_too plainly ad- mitted his guilt, And Maurice Wingfold, after one frightened glance in that_direction, closed his eyes and bowed his head, shivering from head to foot as though he, too, felt that stern accusation. ; ‘“*T charge you thus, Damon Wingfold, and in proof—Humpy Dick,” turning toward the de- formed, ‘have I spoken one word more than the truth?” ’ “You have not. Damon Wingfold commit- Some one’s fallen from the - ted the foul deed!” ; The trail er menacing. ‘* And you know this? Who are you, then?” ‘“‘Sterling Coin, the man whom that devil tried to murder!” sharply cried the deformed, pointing a bony finger at the cringing assassin. ‘* And I also charge him with attempted mur- der!” sternly added Dark Durg, his black eyes glowing. ‘‘And Iam Milo Garth!” CHAPTER XIX. TRIED, AND FOUND GUILTY, ALTHOUGH they must have anticipated some such declaration, both Damon and Maurice Wingfold shrunk away as far as the nature of their paste xee and bonds would admit, shivering with fear, something akin to horror filling their eyes. Truly, it seemed as though the grave was giv- ing up its dead! Hard and pitiless Dark Durg, or Milo Garth, as he now declared himself, stood before the wretches who had so deeply wronged him in the years gone by, his eyes glowing as though but the windows to a mass of molten iron, Little hope of mercy for the criminals to be seen in that stern, hard-set face. Though she could not see, Precious Wingfold shrunk tremblingly away from the side of the grim avenger. She felt that she was in the pre- sence of a living death. At the motion, Dark Durg turned and looked toward her. Doing so brought his gaze in line with Humpy Dick beyond, and he caught an eager, imploring look upon the thin, haggard face, the meaning of which he had no difficulty in intefpreting. For a brief space he hesitated, his strong grip tightening and drawing the maiden closer to his side. But then—it was as he had said: Humpy Dick was all he had left in the world to care for, all there was now to care for or love him. And in silence he led the vailed maiden to the side of the deformed, gently muttering: ‘“*Once before you stoo to lend aid and safety to a poor, hun being, lady; stoop now, and with your hand held in his honest grasp, listen in silence to the words I still have to utter.” ‘Dear lady!” softly muttered Humpy Dick, reaching up and touching the trembling hand. **No harm shall come to you. Trust me. J would die a score times over, rather than tell you a lie!” There was something in his voice that carried conviction with it, and Precious sunk on her knees beside him, sobbing faintly. Her powers were sorely taxed. She felt sick, almost swoon- ing away. It was all so terrible, so gloomy and tragic! Dark Durg turned away and resumed his for- mer position, facing Damon Wingfold, his black eyes glowing, his face hard and merciless, his tones clear and cutting, sending a cold thrill through the veins of his auditors. ‘The grave has given up its dead, and both Sterling Coin and Milo Garth now come for- ward to bear witness against Damon Wing- fold, the cowardly, treacherous assassin! Ay! even though the men whom he did his worst against are still in this world, I charge him thus: for the death he counted upon would have been heaven itself in comparison to the sufferings which we were forced to undergo! ‘* First, I will tell my own story—the story of Milo Garth. ‘* Even as you touched the trigger, Damon Wingfold,” his long, bony finger shaking to- ward the cowering wretch, ‘I caught sight of your face and divined the truth! I knew you then as you were, a devilish murderer at heart, but my discovery came too late to save me from ie dastardly shot. I remember feeling the orrible shock—I can even recall the first in- stant of that frightful plunge over the wall into the roaring river! Thousands of times since have I woke By at night with a shrill cry of in- lving over that frightful mo- ‘* The next I can recall, is a faint sensation of pain, of warmth, of spicy odors. Like one in a dream I was vaguely conscious that some one was bending over me, adjusting bandages to my hurts. Butit was many hours afterward that I fairly recognized my preserver. Still more before I could either tell or listen to him tell of my adventure. | ‘When I was strong enough, my friend told me how he had found me lying on ‘a rock, with my head alone above the surface, insensible, seemingly dead. And had he notrecognized the face of an old friend, he said he would hardly have dared attempt to reach me; for the roc wall was high and difficult for even an unincum- bered man to scale or descend. He managed to reach me, and finding life still pneeenes he bore me to the shore, and finally succeeded in getting me to the place where my consciousness return- ed, where I now was. ‘“* Besides many bruises, received when I fell into the river or as the swift current whirled me along its contracted bed, I was shot clean through the body, the bullet passing within an inch of my heart. ‘* When Lt told my story, naming you as the traitor, Damon Wingfold, my friend said that he would bring your scalp to help make me well. be mm n--4 29 He was but a poor, ignorant savage, you see and he naturally thought that what would be al his own hurts, would surely aid me in recover- ing my strength. With him, it mattered little who dealt the blow, just so his wrongs were avenged. But with me it was diff-rent. I swore that I would repay you, Damon W ing- fold, though years should pass over our heads: before we met again! And now—a li'ctime since, almost!—I am allowed to make that oath good!” Hard and merciless was the voice of Mile - Garth. Hatred the most intense gleamed in his eyes. Would simple death satisfy his ven- geance, so long delayed? Damon Wingfold felt. ‘that it would not, and he closed his bloodshot. eyes with a choking groan. Already he was beginning to pay the penalty due his great. crimes! **For a full week that ignorant, degraded half-breed watched over me day and night with- out a respite, scarcely closing his eyes in all that: time. Hand to hand he fought death for the victory, and at the end of that period he seemed to conquer. The terrible fever left me. My brain grew clearer, though I was so walle that I could hardly lift my hand or move a muscle unaided. ‘** Even then faithful John would not take the rest he so sadly needed. He was afraid to close his eyes, lest some change for the worse should come while he was unconscious, and so, when L had taken a little broth, and seemed so much better, he told me that his family was living not. many miles wig and that he was going to them, to bring his squaw back to nurse me, He would not be gone long. There was no. danger of wild animals, and the little hut. was so snugly bidden that a white man might pass it by within arm’s length almost. without eee what it really was. As for the red-skins, not one of them would at- tempt harm, with his mark on the door, ‘**And so he left me, to find—you know what, Damon Wingfold! To find only the wolf-gnawed remains of his father and mother, his sister and brother, his squaw and his chil- dren—not even the little baby scarce two months old had been spared! ‘What matter? He was only a half-breed. His father was but a squaw-man, his mother a full-blood Indian. So was his squaw. And as to his children—only wretched spawn whom it: was a mercy to kill! ** And yet, as he came back—even then faith- ful and true to one of the same color as those who had blotted all the light and comfort out: of his life—I saw the tears rolling down his bronzed cheeks as he told how he gathered up the scattered fragments and started a fire about them, as the shortest method of buryin them. He feared to leave his wounded frien an hour longer than necessity compelled him. ‘* As I listened to John, the whole frightful scene seemed painted on my brain, and I told him, what I afterward learned was true, that you, Damon Wingfold, was the leading spirit in hat foul massacre! I told him where he would find you and your fellows. I bade him forget me and my lesser claims of your life. I bade him go and avenge his murdered family. But he would not listen. He knew that I would per- ish fo left alone in my weak and ‘still feverish sta ‘*For two days longer he nursed me, never closing h's eyes in sleep that I could ascertain, And in those days I gained strength sufficient to bear the journey he was meditating. ‘*He made a rude looking but really comforta- ble chair into which he bound me, e managed to strap this on his back, and thus he set out in quest of aid for me, of help for himself, for avenging the murder of his family and kindred. ‘*How long that journey lasted, I am not sure. I only know that it consumed day after day. That when we came to a few lodges of his tribe I was worn to a shadow, the fever coming back to my poor brain. “This much I have spoken of my own knowl- edge. What I have to say now, I only learned after years of darkness, of madness, if you will. “John placed me under charge of their wisest medicine-woman, then told his tragic story. It was easy enough after that to gather about him a force of warriors quite sufficient, as they reasoned, to wipe the pale-skinned as- sassins from the face of the earth. ‘John made me a brief visit before he left, telling me what he and his allies intended to do. e said that if sible, he would take the man whom I ha described to him—you, Damon Wingfold!—captive, to bring back reer could see him face to face before he i ‘* As I listened to him, my brain grew clearer for a little, and I remembered my friend, Ster- ling Coin, I could not believe that he had taken oct in that merciless deed, and so I swore to ohn. I described the person I meant, and John promised if he could without risking the mis carriage of the vengeance he had sworn, to spare my friend. ‘They made all haste to the valley where I told John my party was watching. They saw the red light of the camp-fires, and lost much precious time in surrounding the huts, to make. GoOmic JOOkKS.€om