Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 390 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

N. ttie Hucklebee—Cibuta’s bride; ‘‘ you must not die thus!” ; “Too late, my child, too late! I braved my fate to save your husband, and I have met my death.” ‘‘Oh! Mother, you—” ‘*Hush, child, and listen. My moments are few. What I have to say must be said quickly. I saw that villain taking deliberate aim at Cibuta John, and I threw up his arm. I saved his—your husband’s life. In return I— But, remind him of his oath. He will avenge me, “‘In my cabin are papers, my child, which will tell—you—all. They—they are—yours. ‘‘I—” But shé said no more. The bullet had struck a vital part, and with a single gasp she passed away. And then Nettie fell upon her breast and wept aloud. She had learned to regard the old woman as a dear friend. , Nor was she the only one who cried, for sobs were heard on every hand. In the mean time the search for the cow- ardly murderer was carried on with the greatest earnestness. The entire pavilion was surrounded, but, as we have said, it was too late. Juan Bartolo was gone. Lights were hurriedly procured, and the space under the pavilion was thoroughly ex- plored, but the murderer was not to be found. Then the citizens spread out in every direction. W here could the man be? They searched here, there and everywhere, but not a trace of him could they discover. Nor did they, although they spent nearly an hour in looking. Of course they had heard by this time that Mother Wolf was dead, and every man felt as though he had lost some near and dear friend. The citizens having been kind to the old witch, she, of course, had been the same to them; and nearly every one could remember some kindly act of her now silent heart and resting hands. It was a sad event. Again were funeral-knells to be rung, where wedding-bells had so recently and so joyously sounded. Singly, and by twos and threes, the men returned to the pavilion, where they found Mother Wolf’s body lying uvon the floor, now covered with a shawl, and the women all standing silently around, many of them still weeping. ‘*This heur are too durn’d bad!” exclaimed Bill Twicker, ‘‘an’ somebody's got ter pay fer it!” ; ‘* You kin jest bet yer life echoed. Cibuta John entered at that moment, and crossing the floor to where the body lay, he stopped beside it, took off his hat, raised his right hand above his head, and then in a solemn and impassioned voice, said: ‘‘Hear me, one and all: By heaven and earth—by the charm of the silver daggers— by the God who made me! I swear that the murderer of this woman shall die by my hand! J swear that she shall be avenged!” Little he thought revenge would come so soon, though. CHAPTER XXX. FUNERAL KNEULLS. For fully a minute after Cibuta John’s im- pressive words were uttered, no one spoke, and he himself was the first to break the silence. “This is sad—sad,” he said. ‘‘ But,” he added, ‘‘my oath is taken. This woman shall be avenged, if I have to devote my life to the task.” Under his direction, then, the body was taken up and carried to one of the nearest houses, where it,was laid out and prepared for burial. And then the citizens of the Bar sought re- ose. ? But the excitement was not yet over. Along after midnight a dark figure might have been seen to skulk into the town, had any one happened to be abroad, and that dark figure was Juan Bartolo, the villain, outlaw and murderer. iit Jem Patterson SEE ; His eyes fairly gleamed with the fire of ! The Giant Cupid. — -_-— - oo hatred which was burning within him and consuming his very soul, his teeth were hard shut, and his movements were as stealthy as the movements of a cat when creeping upon its prey. Slowly and cautiously he moved along, dodging behind first one house and then an- other, and then at last he reached the rear of the Hucklebee mansion. There he stopped. For several minutes then he waited and watched to see whether any one was astir, but the whole house was as still as death. Not a sound was to be heard. Satisfied that all within were asleep, the villain advanced to one of the windows of the kitchen and pried open its shutters, Scarcely a sound did he make. The shutters opened, be next used the blade of a dagger to push back the catch from over the sash. Then he paused again and listened. Hearing no one, he next carefully raised the window and noiselessly crept into the room. ‘* Now,” he hissed, with a fierce Spanish oath, ‘‘1 shall have sweet revenge! I could not win this girl for myself, and she shall not live for him, J will kill them both !” The rascal understood the plan of the house pretty well, he having been quite a frequent caller there on his first coming to Ante-Bar, and thus he was enabled to guess pretty correctly which room Cibuta John and his bride occupied. Removing his boots, he opened the door of the dining-room and quickly made his wa through that apartment and out into the hall, There he once more stopped to listen. Nothing was to be heard, though, and then he advanced along the hall and ascended the stairs. Carefully he felt his way along, making no more noise than a cat would have made were it bent on the same errand. Reaching the top of the stairs, he drew a dagger, and then moved on even more care- fully than ever, if that were possible. And soon he came to Cibuta’s door. He had guessed aright. Taking hold of the knob and turning it silently, he found, to his great delight, that the door was unlocked. He had expected to find it locked. . ' Inch by inch he pushed the door open, and then he slipped into the room. Leaving the door partly open, he took his dagger between his teeth and got down upon his hands and knees, and then in that man- ner advanced toward the bed, the outlines of which could be seen in the semi-darkness, Reaching the bed, he next took a match from his pocket, wet it between his lips, and then rubbed it between his fingers until they were aglow with the phosphoric light. Then he rose cautiously and passed his hand quickly over the faces of the sleepers to learn positively who they were. And what he beheld fairly caused him to gnash his teeth in rage. The sleepers were Cibuta and his bride. They were in each other’s arms entwined, Nettie’s head was resting upon her husband’s broad shoulder, her face was close to his, and both were sound asleep. Eagerly the murderer grasped his dagger and raised it aloft, and then— Horror! With a powerful blow the keen blade de- scended! There was a sickening ‘‘ swish” as the blade cut through the covering of the bed, immediately followed by a thud as the mur- derer’s hand struck with heavy foree upon Cibuta’s breast, and then— plain in few words, In an instant Cibuta John was out of bed, and in a moment more the cowardly mur- derer was disarmed and in his power. In its descent, the Mexican’s dagger had struck one of the mystic silver daggers which Cibuta now wore upon a silken sash across his breast night and day, was glanced aside, and, although the blow fell with terrible force, no blood was drawn. Once again had the silver daggers played well their part. With a scream of alarm Nettie awoke in- stantly, and cry after cry for help came from her lips during the brief struggle which caaned: The household was aroused in a moment, and all came hurrying to the scene. But let us ex- — + —_— = eee As soon as Cibuta had his man disarmed, he instantly asked: ‘* Nettie, are you hurt?” ‘* No,” was the reply. ‘Then light the lamp, and we will see who this fiend is,” Nettie quickly obeyed, and just as the lamp gave forth its light the other inmates of the house “ame hurrying in. ‘‘Ah! curse you, it is you!” Cibuta cried clutching his prisoner still more firmly. ‘‘Mercy, senor, mercy!” the coward. gasped. ‘“ You dare to ask mercy after this—after your heinous crime of this night! No! You shall die, and die like a dog! I have sworn to settle accounts with you, and also to avenge Mother Wolf, and now your race is run. “Take him down-stairs, Smith,”’—this to the hired watchman—‘‘and as soon as I can dress { will be down.” All left the room, and in a very short time Cibuta John was dressed and ready for the street. Going down-stairs he found his man there, with the murderer under cover of his revol~ ver, and together they dragged the wretch out into the highway. Then, by a series of shouts, and several rapid shots from their revolvers, they soon aroused the whole town. The citizens came pouring to the spot from every direction. Cibuta quickly explained the situation, and then bade the men bring torches and a rope; and, these being soon procured, the whole crowd moved toward the giant cottonwood tree as one man. The wretched prisoner begged and pleaded for mercy, but his captors were deaf to his cries. Arriving at the tree, the rope was quickly thrown over a limb—the very limb from which Cibuta had so narrowly escaped. Cibuta then made a few remarks, recalling the various offenses and crimes of the prison- er, and then, with his own hands, raised the man from the ground and launched his soul into eternity. No friendly hand was there to cut the rope, as there had been to save Cibuta John, and in a few minutes the outlaw chief was dead. And none was there to mourn his fate, Mother Wolf’s sad, strange prophecy had been fulfilled. It was a stern duty for Cibuta John, but he had sworn to avenge the old witch, and the man deserved his fate. * Thar!” cried Bill Twicker, when at last. the body was cut down; ‘‘ that ’ar settles it! This cuss’ll give us no more trouble, that’s mio sartain,”’ And everybody allowed that Bill was about: right. “he body was put into an unoccupied cabin till morning, when it was buried. Later in the day followed the funeral of old Mother Wolf. And so closed the string of incidents and events about which we set out to tell. As Cibuta John and many other citizens of the Bar had avowed, Bung-eye Camp would be made to pay for the part her denizens had. taken in their late troubles, and they ide good their word. The Camp was little more than a nest of outlaws anyhow, and through the efforts of the people of Ante-Bar it was broken up and its population scattered. hen old Mother Wolf’s cabin came to be searched, many valuable papers were found, and among them a deed to a certain tract of land in New Mexico. This land was a tract. which had been bestowed upon one Don Juan Bartolo by the Mexican Government many years before, and the deed was made by the same party—Don Juan Bartolo—to his wife, Inez Bartolo; and she was none other than Mother Wolf herself. She had married Bartolo at the City of Mexico, but never bearing him any children he tired of her, and at last banished her to the distant land where we find her. He sent two servants with her, but they died, and for many years she lived entirely alone. Meanwhile, the Don had married again, and the fruit of his second union was his rascally son. As to Mother Wolf’s witchcraft, all she knew she had learned from an old Indian whom she befriended. But, great as her h NiIGDoOo (E(0)