Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 4 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

11 xposed to the | dom enjoys! But his profane aioe | “T'll save her next, if it pleases the good He held his breath were drowned by her screams, no less cat-like _ Lord,” said the hunter. . than her claws; and before he could rid himself ‘*But William Swanton promised to protect of her nails or make himself known, he was | her; and he seems to have power with the In- | obliged to thrust her from him so that she struck | dians,” said the lady, her words rendered the ground with a concussion that pretty ef- | jerky by the motions of her horse, fectually knocked the breath out of hier body. | “He lied tew ye. I heard’im. Yeou may While she lay gasping for breath, he availed | depend on it, honest men don’t consort with In- himself of the comparative quiet to regale her | jins. Oh the iniquity o’ the human heart, while with a broadside of oaths so familiar to her ears | men Varn that the Prince o’ Darknees himself 1 that his identity could not fail to be revealed. | ain’t painted no blacker nor the human devils In a moment Jerusha was herself again! one meets among them that sarve him. Now, : Freeing her head from the embarrassment of | ma’am, I onderstand this Sioux lingv, an’ yeou No, 4, Could it be that she—she was e The Kidnapper; or, the Great Shanghai of the Northwest. rr a perils of savage captivity? while the woman answered: ‘* He called her Blanche.” ‘* Blanche Burbank?” demanded Walter, in a voice sunk to a whisper. It thrilled him to the heart, when the woman’s rt lighted up with recollection, and she re- lied: * 4 a Yes! Burbank—that was the name.” The man who loved Blanche Burbank with all his soul—who, believing her relations to another made it dishonorable, had striven to crush that love, almost to the crushing of his heart—remained perfectly still, paralyzed by this more terrible blow. In this condition he saw the woman wince with pain, saw her put her hand to her scalpless head, saw her start with a great gasp, and then stare blankly, as if frozen by some terrible dis- covery. Presently, she began to pant with a terror which distended her eyes and shook her chilled te a at ye eter. Shocked in recovery of himself, Walter Weston drew forward his water canteen, think- ing her about to faint. It was of tin, the side worn next his person being polished to a reflect- ing brilliancy by constant friction against his clothes. Before he could divine and frustrate her pur- se, the woman caught it from his hand and eld it up as a mirror. One glance, and with a shriek of horror she dropped the canteen, and struggled with blind energy to her knees; her wound opened afresh; and she sunk prone upon the ground. Walter had started to his feet. ‘My God!” he exclaimed, with a shudder, and bent over the prostrate woman-with an aimless purpose of raising her from the ground. But a chorus of savage yells replied to her cry. af Up andaway! The devils are right on of us!’ cried Bantam, clutching’ Walter by the arm and forcibly raising him erect. ‘* What! and leave this poor creature in such a plight?’ exclaimed Walter, all his chivalry in arms. ‘‘ Never! I'll die beside her first!” And, throwing his rifle forward, he cocked the weapon, in readiness to receive the foe. ‘‘ Fool!” cried Bantam, in the rage of despera- tion. ‘ Will it do you any — to get butchered over a woman that’s y dead, when there’s a living one that needs every arm in her defense?” And the sturdy backwoodsman enforced his words by clutching Walter by the collar of his jerkin and dragging ‘tuim along, whether or no. But the urging of Blanche’s claims settled the matter. er lover would not have let all the women in the world, living or dead, stand be- fore her. ‘‘T reckon I didn’t mean no disrespect,” said Bantam, as they tore through the bushes; ‘‘ but I don’t eat my words neither; fur it ‘ud ’a’ been a blamed fool trick to stand up an’ git knocked over by a score o’ Soos fur a dead woman.” But Walter needed no mollification for his wounded dignity. His mind was so full of his captive love that he had not heeded the rest of Bantam’s speech, and now scarcely heard his qualified apology. After escaping their pursuers, they returned to the vicinity to look for Mr party, that they might co their efforts to rescue Blanche from her savage captors, When they encountered Hall and we Se ee eee eee... DN eOeEOOEOEOEOEOEEEEEEOEOEOEEeEEOEEEOEEEEOEOEOEOEEeEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eee eee . Burbank and his rate with them in her shawl, she got upon her feet, terror re- laced by outraged fury, and, as she could catch er breath, demanded: ‘* Bill Swanton—is that you? Oh! you—vil- lainous scallawag! I vum! I’d—like to scratch yeour eyes out!” “No doubt, you infernal vixen!” replied her affectionate husband, nursing his hurts; and with a profane invocation he added: ‘ Pve a mind to cut a gad and trounce you for the fa- vors I’ve received as it is!” ‘* Yeou—take a stick—to me! Bill Swanton, yeou never seen the day that you dast—to raise a finger ag’in’ me!” “ Shut up, you confounded old witch, and tell me what has been goin’ on here.” “Witch yourself, Bill—Swanton! And I won’t—shut up, as long—as I’ve got the breath—” ‘* Where is the lady that I left here?” ‘* What do I know or—care about the tram in’ baggage that yeou—made love to right before my face an’—eyes? Bill Swanton, I’m our lawfully wedded—wife; an’ to hev yeou— h! yeou shameful—” She was adding tears to the rest. That drove her husband to desperation. ‘*None o’ yer whimperin’, confound you! or I'll shake the breath out 0’ your body!” he cried, clutching her shoulder; oa without waiting to see whether she would give further provocation, he carried his threat into execution, shaking her, pe of into a somewhat more pliable ; fo state of min r when he demanded: ‘* Will you answer me now, you shrew?” She gasped, submissively enough: “Yes, William—yes!” “Very well, then,” he said, releasing her shoulder from his grip, ‘‘ what has happened here, the minute my back was turned?” ‘We was pounced upon by a pack o’ yeour fine friends, the Injuns; an’ no thanks to yeou that we hain’t all skulped!” replied his wife, with a slight return to oneal ‘‘ And what has become of the lady?’ ‘““They’ve made off with her, I suppose; and I hope they’ll burn her at the stake, the hussy!” Jerusha’s jealousy flamed up n; and she added, with somethng of her wonted spirit: ‘** Bill Swanton, instead o’ bein’ so anxious about somebody else’s wife, it ’u’d be more seem- ly, to my way o’ thinkin’, if yeou’d show more concern about yeour son, as may be killed, for all yeou know or care.” ith the new thought she looked about for Sidney, and discovered him lying unconscious on the ground. **Oh, Lud! Lud! Lud! If they hain’t killed him, sure enough!” she cried, casting herself upon the body with that noisy grief with which death inspires women of her caliber, even for those — whom they have bestowed little love during life. But William Swanton gave as little heed to her grief as to her rebuke for his lack of natural | Buffalo Horn exclaimed the wih Vy RR —— eee don't; an’ I heard that snake-in-the-grass tell at the gal whose trail the Injins was follerin’ had escaped from him.” ‘* My daughter escaped from Major Swanton!” ‘**How is that possible? She was captured by Indians a week ago.” ‘*That may all be,ma’am. Put not by those jins. She was the renegade’s captive, though he may have used Injins to git’er. It wouldn’t be the first time by a good many that the thing’s been done on the border.” “But with what object? Why should he wish to take my daughter from her home and friends?’ “Revenge,” ventured the hunter, At this the lady was silent, while her mind went back into the pastand fixed upon an event which, viewed in this light, drove the color {rom her cheek. Her emotion was not lost on her companion. *“Yeou may know, ma’am, whethcr he ever had any cause to hate yeou or yeourn. He’sa black-hearted varlet, an’ wouldn't be likely to forgit a grudge, if he had to wait years to pay it off; that’s the great Shanghai’s guess.” A great awe had come into the lady’s voice when she spoke again. ** Sir,” she said, ‘‘I cannot tell you my past; but it is true that this man once swore to be re- venged upon me fora fancied wrong. He was a fierce-tempered man, and far frem good; but I never supposed him capabie of such in-quity as your words imply. What good can it do him, after all these years, to strike me through my child?” ‘**Them kind don’t look fur the gcecd; but, de- nd on it, that’s what he’s vp to; lll agree to ave my comb cut if ’tain’t.” ‘* And what will become of my child?” asked Mrs. Burbank, an ashen pallor cverspreading her face. ‘‘ Sir, you are the only defencer I have at hand, though er father and two friends are somewhere in this great wilcerness seeking to rescue her. May I depend a ou? Whatever er of me save my child from this awful ril! “My life is hern, ma’em, as it is ycurn end every woman's in cistress!” said the simple- minded scout, with that grand chivalry which is of no class or condition, but kelongs to the stout of heart everywhere, Le ‘t king cr peas- ant. ‘*fee! Pve got scmetl ‘1’ o’ hcrn that'll ree yer mother’s. eyes, if it don’t ease yer eart altogether.” : From his jerkin he drew forth a weman’s shoe, the sole almost tern frcm_ the vpyer, yct still preserving the delicate symmetry of the foot it had formed to. The lady received the shoe from his hand, and, while her eyes were dimmed with tcars through which she could rng distinguish it, } ressed the sacred relic to her boscm, and even to her lips, in the fullness of her mother’s love. “Oh, my child! my child! my stolen darling!” she murmured, and then chcked with emotion. - ae ce ee ee ee as recounted in the some «hear pret alter | affection. A rapidly reiterated ery of distress recognized them with a | it thrill. See- | soon brought a number of redskins to his assist- ing these, her intimate friends, so far from the py rw ance; and together they set off on the trail of borders of civilization, made Blanche’s perilous ele Mr. Burbank’s horse, leaving the mother and situation the more terribly realistic; and, al- | son to shift for themselves. “Tltry, ma'em. Put rive me Kack the shoe, most choking with emotion, Walter steppe | While they are in hot pursuit let us take a | Shell recd il, if] fird her before them children forth and grasped the hand of Burly Ben. - | brief retrospect. | o’ Bael git their cletches on ker; en’ that I'll do | stinctively he shunned the man to whom he was | An involuntary cry escaped Mrs. Burbank’s | if I git my comb cut en’ my wings clipped, you | forced to yield up the prize his heart so craved. | lips as she saw Sidney Swanton fall to the bet! | —— ground, stunned by a stone hurled from some | With lingering tenderness the mcther vielded | CHAPTER XVI. unseen hand. _ The next instant the bushes were | p her treasure; and, when the scout had re- SHANG. anae torn ake giving to her view a man unusually | placed it in his jerkin, he said, looking anxiously | WILLIAM SWANTON was recalled by his wife’s | uncouth in appearance even for one in his walk | over his shoulder: screams, not somuch on her account as from anxiety about Mrs. Burbank. of life. He was long and angular—of that de-| ‘Ma’am, I’m beginnin’ to think that I cen’t Arriving on the spot, he found his terrified | His jerkin was too short in the sleeves, and his | is préssin’ us mighty hard.” ( ‘“‘T found it in the grip of a jagged rock,” said the scout, not unmoved by her love ond grief. ‘And you willsave her—save her from them?” cried the mcther. ——— < . ————— scription conveyed by the epithet raw-boned. | save yeou. on.this rack-o’-bones. The red devils | spouse still crouching in the bramble-bush, | leggins had evidently not been made to order. | e yells of the savages showed that they had where she had been unceremoniously thrown. | For the rest he had high cheek-bones, a remark- indeed gained on the pursued. ‘ike dense {o- An opening in the folds of the shawl which en- | ably prominent nose, and was deci edly “lan- | liage of the unde wthintercey ted their view; | | | but they had no difficulty in following the broad | veloped her head served the double of | tern-jJawed,” his chin bristling with a few strag- ra wdmitting air to her lungs and affording exit to | ling hairs—perhaps a hundred in all—not dif- | trail unavoidably left by the fugitives. | the moans to which exhaustion had now reduced | fering much in color from his shock of yellow | | ‘Do not yield me up to them arain,” plended | ‘ 19 expression of her fright, But the approach | hair. Mrs. Burbank. “<I fear that vilaincus renegade i her husband, whom she had no way of dis- “Don’t be afeard o’ me, ma’am,” he said. | even more than his savage allies.” i aguishing from an Indian, since she dared not | “‘I’m a friend’ that'll jerk yeou out o’ this nest The scout I'stened to the sounds of the chase | ‘uncover her head, was the occasion of a renewed | o’ rattlesnakes in short meter! “TI am the witha painful frown. . ] ‘outburst. | at Shanghai of the North-west—the cock o’ | ‘'There’s but one way,” he said, after a parre. i “Oh, Lud! Don’t skulp me! Ihain’t never | the walk that makes the di Soos tremble ‘‘ You must hide in the bush, while I lead em ull done nothin’ to none 0’ you! Help, Sidney! | an’ howl when he crows, an’ when he flaps his | out o’ the way, and then ccme back fur ye. \ Sidney, where be you? Oh dear me suz! what | wings in fightin’ order thar’s work for some- | ye see yonder clump? flip from the eaddle, rn’ | a nateral-born fool I was to come trampin’ ‘way | body. I’m about to flap my wings now, madam, w yerself in it till I return. Lay perfectly | L out here in the wilderness after that uncon- scionable scamp Bil) Swanton! O-0-o-oh!”” fur to git you outen this is the great Shanghai's | ane: an’ yeouw'll be safe.” With no for her terror, Swanton intentions. So here ’ ile ing he reined in the herre, v hich With a bound he leaped astride her horse be- | was laboring painfully un¢er its Covble burcen. | janes his wife from the bush with no gentle | hind her, and aes the anima] forward with Unhesitatingly the lady sli yped to the rrovnd 1 | and; and she with a vision of imminent hand, heel and voice. and soughtthe covert be ve ta rpointd. “u tesa — “ skal ping " before her mental eye, treated him | ‘but, sir, my daughter?” protested the lady, | movnted savage burst from the undergrouw th on | to a clapperclawing as white or savage sel- | whe was will their trail. re . rescued rather against her 200 *’ com (e com Ss