Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 4 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

=~ — a - ee +-~- — a OWE TT —— es a -_ ee ——_— ———— — - — s - — 12 ee eee ee ee Selig but it was his last; for the scout’s rifle belched forth a momentary flash, and the pur- suer fell headlong from his horse. But an answering yell showed that others were at his heels. ere was no time to repair the mischief, if danger there were in leaving a dead foe so near the hiding-place of the woman he sought to rescue. ae: ew — oe She was but a few steps | days!” replied | fury that cowed her, he said: | ‘* See here, my love! Will you curb that gen- _ tle tongue of yours; or shall I try the efficacy of a gag?’ ‘*T reckon yeou kin say yer say without twistin’ my arm off!” was the sulky reply. ta pretty neck one of these wanton, in silken tones, as | “TIT may twist ) co hee yet so far that he could not recall her | though he were making a love speech. and have hermounted again before they would be upon him. He was forced to run the risk of leaving her. Yet for a moment he paused, struck his el- bows against his sides four times repeated, and uttered the ringing note of the chanticleer— ** Oo! 00-00! 00-00-0-0!” Hearing it faint in the distance, Bantam said: “That’s Shang’s totem! It’s not new to the ears o’ these red devils; an’ they’ve l’arned to know that one o’ ’em’s rubbed out every time they hear it.” All through the wood it thrilled sava hearts; and the Sioux brave felt an impulse feel for the charm his Medicine Man had given him, as the devotee crosses himself to avert the power of witchcraft. His note of defiance uttered, the scout disap- peared in the undergrowth. CHAPTER XVIL. SIDNEY AROUSED. Ir will be remembered that the Indians who skirted the rocky ground in search of Blanche’s trail were thrown off the scent by the appear- ance of the bear which had pursued her on the previous night and lain down at the point where she fell over the embankment. They were re- called by Jerusha’s screams when Shang so un- ceremoniously thrust her into the bramble-bush. Taking up the trail of the fugitives, we have seen that one of them, better mounted than the rest, came upon Shang at the moment. when Mrs. Burbank was going into pigs a Shang’s bullet left the Indian with enough life to betray Mrs. Burbank’s place of hiding; and Swanton coming up soon afterward, she was handed over to him once. more. Looking at him she shuddered. He bowed to her with a look in which triumph, hatred and mock suavity glanced through the thin mask of dissimulation and blended curiously with a look of question- ing. @ Helen,” he said, ‘I cannot think that you willingly fled from me as from an enemy, y 1 influence with the Indians is far ampler protec- tion to you than the however well disposed. The lady shuddered again and covered her face with her hands, but made no reply. - Humph !’ muttered the renegade behind his beard. *‘ A new phase. What changed my lady’s humor?” Aloud he said, while his eyes contracted spe- culatively : “Your daughter, too, who may be taken at any moment—I am surprised that you should abandon her.” At this Mrs. Burbank started to her feet. “You villain!” she cried, with the air of an ** Ah!” muttered Swanton, watching her. He removed his hat with a courtly bow, and a sneering devil sat upon his lips as he said: “Your most humble servitor! May I ask to what I am indebted for so distinguished a mark of be favor as is implied in your very gracious epithet?” “ee Tom—” _ “ Swanton, madam !—Major Swanton, at your service.” ‘*All names are alike to so vile a wretch as ou!” cried the lady, wrought beyond self-con- 1, ‘* You, then, are my daughter's abductor, re you lied to me in promising her protec- on: | “T!—your daughter’s abductor!” replied the renege with a sneering affectation of dis- may. “ My dear madam, you cannot entertain such a thought! Who has so basely slandered mef—I, who am so wholly devoted you and ours! “You told your vile ally, this Indian chief, that she had eseaped from you.” “‘ Ah! did I, indeed?’ said Swanton, off-hand. ‘*' Well, and do you think it unchristian to lie to these pagans?” Mrs. Burbank gazed at him in despair. She was saved the trouble of replying by a shrill voice which demanded: ‘** Bill Swanton, have you brought that crea- ture back again to torment me?” They had returned to the scene of Mrs, Bur- bank’s attempted rescue. The absurdly-jealous Je , was ready to receive them, having re- stored Sidney to consciousness. Her next words were addressed to Mrs. Burbank. ‘Yeou ought to be ashamed tew look an honest woman in the face, yeou trampin’ bag- !—to have a married man a-makin’ of love Ww yeou, an’ yeou not a-showin’ of him his Tho virago was plainly in a hair-pulling mood; but her husband prevented any such do- monstration. Clutching her by the arm, while single arm of a hunter, _ Then he turned to Mrs, Burbank, and, with a _ sardonic smile and a suppressed intensity which | Showed the fierce storm that raged in his breast, “You see my domestic felicity. Even your partiality could not wish me more perfect hap- piness. To you I am indebted for this!” Pen cannot describe the intense hate infused _ into his concluding words. Mrs. Burbank shud- dered, thinking that her child might be in this man’s power. ‘Well, Sidney,” added the renegade, in al- tered tones, ‘‘ you seem to have come in for your share. hat was it this time?’ ‘** A cracked crown in your precious service,” replied the Pout, a little sullenly. ‘Oh, well, there was not much in the crown to spill, | fancy; so there’s no harm done,” sneered his father. ‘‘ But, come! I have work for you.” Leaving a sufficient new attempt on Shang’s part, went in search of Blanche. Then followed the discovery of Hal and Burl Ben at the side of the foully betrayed wife, and, returning from the fruitless pursuit, the inter- ruption of Walter’s interview with Mary Ed- wards. Later, a soli Indian, the one who had ridden Selim into the presence of Mrs. Burbank, entered the glade in which lay the helpless ree still unconscious. At sight of her he ut- tered a cry. Clutching her by the arm, he turned her over, so as to see her face. Then a fi-rce guttural, which may have had something of pain, and certainly had much of fury in it, escaped his lips. gene, himself beside the unconscious woman, he dipped his finger in her blood, and with it drew lines across his forehead and down his cheeks. - Transversely to these he drew other lines with blood-sodden loam. Then he covered his head with his blanket, and rocking his body to and fro, began a weird chant, which now hrill ery which rung far through the rd to frustrate any ¥ father and son rose to as forest and anon sunk to a low wailing sound. The effect of this strange proceeding was soon apparent. Abandoning the quest of the fugi- tives, the Indians began to assemble in the glade. The savage mourner arose, and as each ap- roached, examined his girdle. He was evi- ae the scalp of the unhappy wife. o has plucked the lily from the heart of the § ing Rifle?’ he chanted. ‘‘ Who has turned his day into night? Let his blood atone for the deed of his rash hand!” Mrs. Burbank was spared this scene. Her guards were relieved, and in turn passed the ordeal of examination. When all had come in except Sidney, the search was still fruitless. As unlikely as it was that a white man should have scal : one of his own race, the Indians yet waited. When they heard him approaching, the sus- pense was at its climax. Natural instincts, not all dead, prompted William Swanton to in- terfere in behalf of his son; but reason told him that it was the extreme of improbable that Sid- ney could have been concerned in the ghastly tragedy, and he remained quiescent. Sidney started back with dismay and threw forward his rifle, when he saw the blood-smeared chief approachin him with drawn knife. ‘Don't. be put about by this mummery,” called Swanton pere. ‘‘He’s looking for the scalp of this woman, who was his prisoner, it seems, and whom, in all probability, he meant to make his squaw. Of course, you have had nothing to do with her.” Before Sidney could reply, the savage had satisfied himself, and turning from him, went and sat down again by the rh covering his head as before with his blanket, while he re- sumed his chant in different cadences. Curiosity taking the place of apprehension, Sidney advanced to see what it all meant. No sooner had his eyes rested on Mary Edwards’ face, than his manner underwent a sudden change, With a violent start, he relaxed his hold upon his rifle, letting it fall to the ground. In bewilderment he gazed around upon the grim vi of the assembled savages, and again at the white face of the unconscious, e ~ ! Mary!” he cried, casting himself be- sido tho ; Her limp basid fell from his nerveless grasp, and still kneeling, he looked up and about him, a stony calm and ghastly somnal on his face. It was the hush before the tempest. Before any ono could interfere, a sudden fury blazed in his bloodshot eyes, a cry like that of some enraged beast suoaped his lips, and he had clutched tho astonishe Spealing Rifle by tho throat, thrust- ing him on his back and pinning him to the ground. “Is this the dog who has slain her?” he do owe et en New.’ ¥ ork: Library: ' Vol, I ED , , ' He uttered a yell of triumph as he sighted the | his eyes, brought close to hers, glazed with a | manded, addressing no one in particular, and | without waiting for a reply, added: | “* Die! die, you accursed fiend!” |. A momentary hush of dismay, and then a burst of savage yells rent the welkin, while a score of tomahawks gleamed in the sunlight. _ But the father leaped between his son and this avalanche of death. Flinging aloft his open | ees he uttered that mystic signal which: once _ before had stilled the tempest of savage fury. | At that supreme moment he was conscious of | the birth of a new respect for his son. ‘* By heaven! the boy has mettle in him, after all!” he thought. CHAPTER XVIIL THE AVENGER OF BLOOD, SWANTON’s power was sufficient, not only to protect his son from the threatened attack, but to secure the acknowledgment of the superiority of Sidney’s claims to Mary over those of the Speaking Rifle, when the former asked to be left alone with his stricken love. After the Indians had withdrawn, Swanton warned his son against the hatred of the chief, whose scowl showed with what ill-grace he accepted his defeat. But, absorbed in his grief, Sidney paid no heed. Alone with his hapless love, great tears welled into Sidney’s eyes and fell upon her face as he pressed his lips to hers, shuddering while he gave the caress. ‘Mary! Mary!” he called piteously; and sinking beside her, he held her in his arms. His head sunk upon her breast, so still—so awfully still by contrast with his, shaken by choking sobs. Suddenly he starts and gazes wildly in her face. Did he feel her bosom heave with a tremulous sigh? He begins to pant with excitement. He gath- ers her close in his embrace, and rising to his knees holds her with her poor head—oh piteous! oh, damnable spectacle—on his shoulder. He rains kisses upon her pale pnts ig 2 dumbly to Heaven for vengeance!—and calls her again, and again, and again. ‘‘Mary! Mary! Mary! Speak to me, if only once, to tell me who is your fiendish mur¢erer! Awake, my darling, and help me to avenge ou Has the passion of a strong sy irit power to call back one whose feet are alrcady li ved by the silently gliding waters of the Dark River? Tor see! a tremor runs through her frame; a quivering sigh parts her lips; and her eyes open again upon the sad life so nearly left behind. She recognizes him, and shrinks closer in his s. “Sidney,” she whispers; in a voice lighter than the faintest zephyr, ‘‘ is it you?” ‘* Ay, love, it is me! Thank God that you know me!” answers her lover, passionately. The girl shudders from head to foot, and her eyes distend with horrified recollection. ‘*Do you love me still?” she asks, her voice gaining strength ~~ t He feels her clinging to him, and with swell- ing heart responds: ‘With my whole soul!” The girl shudders again. : ‘*T am unworthy your love,” she says bitter- A? Hush!” he replies. ‘‘ You are a hundred times worthier than me, ‘‘No,” she persists; “‘when I should have been true to you I gave my heart to another.” ‘‘ What?” he cries, sharply. He would hold her from him that he can raze into her face, but she clings to him in affright. ‘Sidney! Sidney! you said you loved me,” she pleads piteously. ‘*Sol do,” he says, ed by her manner, ‘And you—you love me, don’t you?” A look of fierce hate comes into her eyes, as she straightens herself and no vehemently: ‘‘ Yes! I love you from the bottom of my | heart!” He is now bewildered by the inconsistency of her words and manner. ‘‘ Why do you look as if you were cursin’ me, when you tell me that you love me?” he asks. ‘‘My words were for you—my looks and tone for another,” she replies, with suppressed fierce- SEES we eee eee eee reeset siscisesemeeemess enim pmemnee roy ness, ‘‘T don’t understand,” says the youth, more and more bewildered. Shivering, the woman shrinks close to his breast. After & pause she says: ‘Sidney, you said you loved mo.” ‘‘T do—I have always loved “you.” ‘* And you will continue to love me?” se Yes. 7? ** No matter what I tell you now?” ‘No matter what you tell me.” “Swear it!” ‘*T do—so help me God! And I'll avenge you too; or dic tryin’!” The rirl shudders again, clinging to him con- vulsively. ‘‘T said I was unworthy of yorr love,” sho says, speaking rapidly. ‘* You know that I loved you when we were alone together. I mich have gone to my dying day and never known anything different: but when you left me, another came. He was a gentleman in Gomicbooks:co