Beadle's Dime Library No. 395 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

wong’ * Se . ; ¥ ‘ the voice—the voice that so strangely Yeminded him of the Duke of Derringers—as the Superb at length took her departure from the wharf, everything had gone as smooth with Rufus Cramp as the most exacting could have expected or even wished for. Having learned that Portia Wellspring had at once betaken herself to her state-room on going aboard, he would not disturb her while she re- mained quiet, which he hoped would be until after the starting of the vessel. So it proved, but when Portia saw nothing of Aunt Honor, and the coffee-colored stewardess declared that she knew nothing of any such person, the poor irl roused herself sufficient to send a message to ufus Cramp, asking for a moment’s interview. The schemer was idly chatting with Mark Landrum—the man whose voice bad given him such a chilling shock, but whose face and gen- eral appearance no more resembled those of the gentleman sport than his voice did, on cool com- ppiaapad ety’ on the message was given him, and 6 immediately complied with the request, only a little tightening of the muscles about his lips betraying any uneasiness. It was a bold game he was playing, and Rufus Cramp proved himself a bold and successful liar. His explanation was all ready, and with rare tact he broke the sad, vexatious news to poor Portia. Aunt Honor was not aboard, simply because she was physically unable to bear the trip, even if she could have been carried to the boat in time, which was more than doubtful. Pale, trembling, fearing the worst, Portia begged the heartless villain to tell her all with- out further preface. | Rufus Cramp told how they laid information before the chief of police concerning the bold attempt at highway robbery. This duty per- formed, he called a carriage, and with Aunt Honor started for the boat. There had an wnfortunate accident occurred, but one which might have been far worse, he earnestly assured the poor girl. Aunt Honor was injured by the runaway and smash-up. A broken limb, with some additional bruises, but nothing so serious that time and care would not set aright As proof that he was not trying to soften the shock by underestimating the danger of her kind friend, Rufus Cramp placed in her hands a sealed note—written by himself since coming aboard—in which, over the name of a fictitious M. D., Portia read that Mrs. Magill was in no danger, save of confinement for a few weeks, ‘“Why did you not tell me? Poor aunty! sobbed the girl, hot tears spotting the cunnin forgery which she held in her trembling hands. On this point, as all others, Rufus Cramp was guarded. As in duty bound, he had seen that the injured lady was placed under skillful and considerate hands, though he knew in so doing he was running the risk of losing passage on the Superb. Only for the unexpected delay in starting, he must have been too late, despite his utmost efforts. As it was, he had barely suc- ceeded in reaching the boat as she was moving off. Even if he had sent word to Portia the mo- ment the accident occurred, she could not have reached her relative and had time to return to the boat. She would have had to decide be- tween risking the loss of her passage, or seeming neglect of her guardian. ‘I took upon myself to decide for you, Miss Wellspring, and if I acted wrongly, believe me it was with the best of intentions. I knew your father so ardently longed for you, and—” Her sobs cut him short, but her tremblin hand touched his/in token that he had ind acted for the best, all things concerned. As her face was buried in a ’kerchief, the schemer re- lieved himself by a silent laugh that told how immensely he was relieved at baving success- fully gotten over what he had feared would prove a serious stumbling-block in his path. On the whole, Rufus Cramp had ample cause to congratulate his lucky stars, thus far. Every- thing seemed to be working smoothly, and if the other hands in the dangerous game were to play their parts as admirably as he had and was plaving his, ultimate success was certain. With no one to talk with, no one to listen to her hopes and fears, none to nourish the one or banish the other, it is not to be wondered at that Portia for the time being forgot her dislike to Rufus Cramp. He was the chosen messenger of her poor father—who might even then be feebly gasping out his life! He could tell her of his ill- ness, of his last words, of his longings for her, his only living child. And so, it was not strange that already she had passed more than one hour on the hurricane-deck with him, after the friendly shades of evening fell over the river, or in the early morning, when there were fewer to gaze curiously upon her vailed figure. Taking all this into consideration, one would have thought Rufus Cramp might at least look content, might smile instead of frown, might hum joyous tunes as he promenaded his solitary beat, instead of grinding curses betwixt his strong, white teeth. He kept casting keen, searching looks along the right shore of the river, now and then paus- ing and gazing steadily for several seconds at \ he ete Se $2 Aad Deadly Aim, the Duke of De Na lin. . & Fa ¥ MOTE OO eer ea 2 Re oe . 7 be wr. hes La < m ¢ be _——_ . \ . ———— some particular point, only to resume his rapid strides and his muttered oaths. Yet there was little to be seen of interest in that direction. The scenery was the same wild, desolate, monotonous, dreary waste that it had been for many hours past, very different in those com- eee ape remote days, when millions had not een expended on the great river and its banks, when far less of civilization marked the course of the vast waterway, than at the present time. Once more Rufus Cramp came to an abrupt stop in his tramp, intently gazing at something on shore. It must have been something of far more than ordinary interest, since his hands trembled so violently that not even tight clinch- ing could hide the fact. Yet surely it was not so strange that a man, apparently a wood-cutter, or maybe a hunter, should happen to be on the shore as the Superb assed by. Nor even the fact that he waved his hat and danced around as though cheering the vessel on its way. That was a sight one could see any day, any time, without giving it more than a passing thought, a fleeting smile. The pilot simply glanced toward the fellow, then continued to read the mysterious revela- tions of the waters. The fellow was not hailing the boat, so there was nothing to interest him. Some of the passengers on the guards below, in the shade, laughed at and returned the stran- ger’s salute. So it is not very strange that Rufus Cramp should do the same thing. The fact would hardly be worth mentioning, per- haps, only for the loss this act of courtesy gave rise to on our friend’s part. He dropped his fine silk handkerchief, which went floating, circling through the air astern, like some fan- tastic red bird. But Rufus Cramp did not even glance after the article, much less attempt to recover it before it got beyondreach. He seem- ed wholly enjoying the antics of the excited fel- low on shore, who just then cast his hat high into the air, by way of a parting salute. Some of the passengers laughed again at this ebullition, then forgot the stranger and the inci- dent. Rufus Cramp kept gazing in that direc- tion for some little time, only turning away with a short, ores breath as he caught sight of a column of black smoke rising from near the spot where the enthusiastic stranger had plunged into the bushes. Native wilderness though this shore appeared from the boat, it was evident there were inhabi- tants, for the keenly roving eyes of Rufus Cramp soon detected a second smcke rising above the undergrowth, fully a mile up the river. And soon after, a third. Really, this sort of travel- a not altogether monotonous! ufus Cramp had a speaking acquaintance with the pilot on duty, as he had with the as pe of river men of that date, though he could not be said to be a general favorite. Free-handed enough, using the choicest of cigars, which he seemed to take pleasure in see- ing other people smoking, ever ready to take a drink or a hand at cards, for either plain amusement or substantial business, he seldom met with a snub or a repulse, even if his society was not courted. And so, when he ventured to enter the pilot-house, the man on duty gave him a nod of welcome that told he was not altogether in the way. Rufus Cramp knew enough not to overwhelm the pilot with idle talk or pointless questions. He seemed content to sit on the bench and enjoy the cool, breezy shade, after his long promenade in the afternoon sun. He noted the smokes as the boat passed them by, but apparently did not deem them worthy of remark. The smokes died away, as though their mission was verformed. There came sundry little breaks in the undergrowth that seemed to speak of approaching settlements. And then, a quick flash illumined the eyes of Rufus Cramp as they rested on a cleared space, not quite half a mile above their present position, and he ventured his first remark: ‘* Paullets Landing! So far up? Really, I had lost my reckoning!” ‘* And I’m hoping there won’t be no call for a landing, this trip,” muttered the pilot, let- ting the wheel glide smoothly through his hands for a few spokes, ‘* The water is so peski- ly low, and that’s a fool-place for a landing, at the best!” ‘*Not much danger, I reckon,” with a little laugh. ‘‘ Business don’t seem to flourish at Paullets. I wonder if .the old fellow is as fat as ever?” “It isn’t hard work that’ll ever make him leaner, anyhow,” laughed the pilot. ‘‘ The boys tella story about— There it is!” he broke off with something that smelled of the infernal re- gions, as his keen eye detected a signal for the boat to make a landing at Paullets. ‘* Tt’s all in a lifetime,” laughed Cramp, pinch- ing his pale lips. ‘‘ And we can hardly hope to break the record, even without another stop be- tween this and St. Louis.” The pilot said nothing, and Rufus Cramp left the pilot-house. Apparently he took little in- terest in the art of landing, from that stand- point. Perhaps he was dry, for he at once descended to the bar, where he found the captain talking and drinking with Mark Landrum. ‘*Poison me, Tommy,” laughed Cramp, nod- eee a - P ‘ > 3 : . 7 rringers. ding toward the barkeeper. ‘‘ Mason, up yon- der, is so hot he actually made me thirsty! There’s a signal out at Paullets, and the old fel- low’s cursing all blue at the idea of making a landing with the water so low.” ‘‘Tt is a nuisance,” said the captain, with a lit- tle frown. ‘‘I was in hopes we might even yet catch up with the record, but if we have to run in at every one-horse landing between here and—” His voice died away as he left the bar. The landing was difficult, but those difficulties ‘ were skillfully met and overcome. The boat was made fast, and the single gang was run out, for it was evident to the initiated that there was no i. freight to be landed at Paullets this time. | Fat Paullets himself, panting and puffing un- der the weight of a pair of old-fashioned valises of tapestry, came into view, delivering his bur- ' den to the porter at the end of the gang-plank. Behind him came two gentlemen, one support- ing the other with tender care, almost carrying him, in fact. Among others, for passengers are ever ready for anything that can break the monotony of such a trip, Rufus Cramp stood on the guards, r watching the passengers as they came aboard. ' And as the taller, stronger one of the latter lift- ed his face for a moment from guiding his com- panion, one of the men on the guards exclaimed: Mi ‘* Kyte Darley,as ’masinner! Whaton earth My dropped him here, and who can that sickly-look- Jt ing fellow be?” ‘**A pigeon, maybe,” laughed another, who also seemed to be acquainted with the gentle- man. ‘*Plumper in pocket than in person, or our = kite will get but a sorry meal this round,” mut- —s. tered still a third. «hs Rufus Cramp also recognized his friend, a though he said nothing. He seemed more inter- f ested in the re ing passenger, who was slowly and tremblingly passing over the narrow plank, supported an ided by Kyte Darley. #3 Slender, frail eno he seemed, despite the ond heavy cloak that muffled his body, up to his ve * eyes. The passing glimpse they caught of his face, showed them only ghastly pallor, deepened 40 by the jetty eyebrows and curling hair that fell 4 damply over his forehead. dP iF " Sekine for a coffin, I should say!” mutter- 2 ed one of the men who had spoken before. ‘“ It 4 can’t be a game of cards oot fy is after; that.poor . devil hasn’t strength enough to deala hand!” é ‘* That needn’t hinder; Darley could deal for : both, and it would amount to the same thing in 3 the end.” t ——- o— OC A Apparently they had not the highest possible ¥. opinion of the handsome, sleepy- yer sport. Pe The Superb left the landing and once more re- ; sumed her journey up the river. The crowd on the guards gradually drifted away.andresumed their efforts at killing time. ith a wearied rs air, Rufus Cramp entered the office,dropping _— into a chair and picking up + pares that laid cn - the table, barely nodding to Kyte Darley as ho . entered. The sickly passenger was sittinginen — arm-chair, doubled over, his head sunk on bis *o chest, seornineny exhausted by his recent efforts. - f ‘Pretty full, Mr. Darley, as you can sec,” | said Hoover, as Kyte bent over the registcr. Le ‘*There’s only one state-room left. but it’s a es, choice one, near the middle, and—” ee ‘‘ But I want two rooms,” interposed Darley, “- frowning a little. tee ‘“Tmpossible, just at present. To-morrow aa perhaps, unless we have the bad -luck to find another stray bar,” smiled the clerk. ‘ Until then you can worry along with one, surely? Your friend can—” “ ‘* A comparative stranger, of whom I know nothing more than his mere name and that he is mney feeble. I helped him aboard, but that’s sf : \ ‘* Maybe I can bunk him with some other, if” you insist on having the room toryourself.” | ‘* Let me see the list again,” muttered Darley, “Ss after a coveft glance at the sickly passenger. Pak’ ‘* He needs the room more than I do, and maybe “e Ican find— By the way, Cramp?” ! —< ‘‘Youcan have a berth with me, Darley, of — course,” said Rufus. : ‘Until another room is vacated—good ~~ encugh!” and Kyte with a free pen wrote down <4 the name of his sickly companion: ‘Wilfred —s_ ngs. ye “T can’t swear as to his place of residence, ves you know,” with a little laugh. ‘ Poor devil!” in the same guarded tone. ‘It’s not a work of prophecy to give the place he’s bound for, in ay OTT hope he'll last our time ia ‘*T ho ell last our timé, anyway. Goin eaten to St. Taeie. is he?” Poin : — “Unless he drops off on the road. Give me ~ the key and [ll help him to hisroom. If he has any friends, they’d ought to be kicked for per- t mitting him to take such a jaunt alone!” | | Kyte Darley was as good as his word. and as- ee. sisted the sickly passenger to the state-room, soon after emerging and returning to the office, ~ where he encountered the grinning porter. . Tart “Take this bag to Mr. Cramp’ room, and ae leave the other with the sick gentleman. He’s got change enough to make it worth your while "44 to lend him a hand in case he needs anything, * Cuffee. . . 4 Eomiel CO