Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 4 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

No, 4, CHAPTER XXI. JERUSHA HAS CAUSE FOR JEALOUSY, WHITE with rage, the renegade addressed Buf- falo Horn. ‘“‘Chief, we must cut our way in to the dogs! — — ——~- --—_—_ - -—_ - ee | don’t—see what I—ever—done, to be treated— like this—by—you—oo—oo! I swan to man!— you'd try a—saint!” sobbed Mrs. Swanton. Stung to the quick, Mrs. Burbank wrenched herseif free from her hateful persecutor. ‘*In heaven’s name, sir!” she cried, ‘‘if you Have you braves who are not afr aid of death?’ have a spark of manhood about you, do not ‘Hugh! Better way than that,” said the | again expose me to the vile suspicions of this— chief, ‘‘Smoke em out!” nt Heaven! that’s just the thing!” 1 hand of the savage, and shook it heartily, / i this—creature!” The Kidnapper; or, the Great Shanghai of the Northwest. a ee Aloud he said: ‘* Carlton Burbank, do you hear me?” **T care to hear nothing from your foul lips,” ' came the reply from the mouth of the cavern, | the voice made so hollow and unnatural by the echoes of the place that perhaps only a wife’s | A horrible smile curled the lip of the rene- | is delight Swanton grasped the dusky | gade, as he looked from his lachrymose wife to | the outraged lady who repulsed him with such v “But, chief, when they try to escape, ihey regal indignation. must be captured alive—do you hear/—alive! have an old score to settle.” ‘ What's the use of longer wearing the mask?” he asked himself. ‘* Curse the vixen! does she ““No come out alive,” said the Indian, again think I’ll let her go on forever tormenting me sing his broken English. ‘‘How come ough fire?” ‘Then let ’em die like dogs in a kennel!” cried the renegade, fiercely. “ But he shall not es- cape me so—after all these years! Id wring his heart with the knowledge that while he dies, his wife and daughter, more terrible yet, live! Ila! ha! my revenge is sweet! Ho shall feel his unutterable misery ! ‘*Tfo! [have a glorious plan! I will bring his wife to plead wita him! And his daughter— curse these stupid pagans! why have they not found her yet?” . Rapidly he urged the Indian chief to have fagots gathered to pile before the entrance of the cave, and incite his braves to a more care- ful search for Blanche, while he himself went for lirs, Burbank. “‘Ticlon,” he saidtoher, ‘‘ 1 havea joy in store for you.” Tae lady looked distrustfully at him. “You will pardon my frankness, if I say I have little faith in “ : sich prospect coming from you,” replied sho, bitterly. ‘* Nevertheless it is truo. See how you wrong me, Your husband’s at hand, and | would re- unite you.” The lady started with sudden pallor. She saw the sneering devil behind the thin mask. Had her husband, following on the trail of his lost child, falien in tae Rowen of the renegade? And did this sinister fiend mean to glut his hatred by gloating on the wretchedness of his victims reunited as prisoners, dependent upon his tender mercies? At the thought her fortitude forsook her; and like this? Her jealousy isn’t so unreasonable, so | far as lam concerned, but she has a confound- edly ill-bred way of manifesting it.” Aloud he said: ‘‘ Why, my dear Helen, any one can see that there’s nothing very engaging in that patch of womanhood, while you’re a devilish fine speci- ; _-menof the sex. Aside from its application to helplessness, knowing that he leaves them to | ' | ’ eee you, her jealousy has a most ample foundation; | for, to speak plainly, I love you now more than in my unformed youth, when I only half-appre- | ciated—”’ ‘‘ Bill Swanton!” screamed the virago, ad- vancing toward her faithless husband, as if to | avenge her wrongs bv another application of her nails to his face—‘‘ Bill Swanton, do yeou dast to tell another woman, right in my teeth, that yeou’re in love with her?” “Yes, my dear!” answered Swanton, smil- ing sweetly in the face of his infuriated spouse. The woman looked at him fixedly, drawing a long, deep breath, and crouching like a very tigress in her rage. Suddenly she uttered a lercing shriek and leaped toward Mrs. Bur- ank, with blazing eyes and fingers crooked like claws. Startled so that she could hardly suppress a scream of affright, the lady extended her hands to keep off the vixen’s assault. It would have been no barrier, however, to Jerusha Swanton’s fury, had not the renegade interfered. Ono sweep of his vigorous arm, and his wife lay in a heap on the ground, kicking, scratching, biting and shrieking in violent hysterics. The savages looked on like ebon Sayaae only the glittering eyes showing the baleful fires within. With them a wife would have had bowing her face in her hands, the proud lady | her vixenish propensities—at least so far as their ctrurzled with the great sobs that swelled in | hor bosom, murmuring: ** And our chill—our spotless child—will be the next to fall into his hands. Oh! God protect her! Shall this fiend triumph to the end?’ ‘* She weeps—and before me!” muttered Swan- ton, viewing with malignant satisfaction the tears force their way through the lady’s fingers. ‘*Come,” he said aloud, *‘ you are to be the instrument of your husband's salvation against his own stubborn suspicions.” Mrs. Burbank looked up in surprise. What subtle villainy had this man devised?—for she suspected everything that had its origin in his treacherous brain. ‘*' Your husband, Harry Bearsley and Burly Ben, who came in quest of your daughter, after her capture by the Indians!” snee the rene- mes el you see that | am informed in the mat- or—are now confined in a cave. If they will surrender I have prcinieed them protection—this in opposition to the wishes of my Indian allies, who are bent upon smoking them out of the cave. I need not tell you that that is a process which means death by suffocation. Will you come and add your arguments to induce them to come out of their own accord and accept my protection?” ‘‘ Never!” cried the loyal wife, drawing her- self erect. ‘Did you calculate upon my wo- man’s weakness to betray my loved ones into the hands of se base a wretch, as you? Tom Tracy—” ‘Major Swanton, madam!” sneered the rene- e. Not heeding him, she went on without pause: ‘‘T know you thoroughly. For once in your life you have made a mistake, which shows that you are wide of the truth in your estimate of me!” ‘‘Not so, my dear madam,” said Swanton, coolly. “y oak in no mae disappointed by your eloquent refusal to play into my hands—a refusal which, I must say, does credit to your head and heart. But it isa of my pleasure to make you instrumen in my revenge, whether you will or no, Allow me! And with a bow he drew her hand through his arm. Resistance was useless. Mrs. Burbank sub- mitted with a shudder of loathing at contact with so vile a thing. But there was another who demanded consid- eration, urging her wifely rights in no gentle tones, ‘‘Bill Swanton, do you think I’m agoin’ to stay here while yeou’re off trampin’, the Lord knows where, with that brazen piece of impi- dence, that ought ter slap yer face, instead o’ hangin’ on yer arm—the huzzy!—in the very face and eyes 0’ yer lawfully wedded wife! Oh! I'd like to scratch her eyes out, 1 vum! An’ I manifestation toward her lord and master were concerned—exorcised by a vigorous applica- tion of birch, long before the me as was displayed by the contumacious erusha. As the case stood, each savage felt provoked to use his tomahawk. Mrs. Burbank was shocked and disgusted be- yond expression. In hercase there was another drop of bitterness which a woman could appre- ciate, and which found expression in the words: « And to think that the husband of this crea- ture once aspired to my hand!” There seemed degradation in the fact that the same taste which had selected her had after- ward descended to so vile a thing. She might be shocked by this man’s villainy—there was no personal sting in that; but in being thus placed on a level or in competition with Jerusha Swan- ton, her pride and her self-esteem were hurt to the quick. As for Swanton, his face was black with bit- ter rage. In that moment his wife’s fate was decided. ‘Curse her!” he muttered, in his soul, ‘‘ Ihave stood this thing long ae % Then there was a hard setting of the lips which boded no mercy for the object of his wrath, but outwardly he wore a mask of smil- ‘Madam,” he said, bowing to Mrs, Burbank, “ought not [ to be a happy man? one so zeal- ously beloved as I?” The lady shuddered. He seemed a sneering devil in his ghastly humor. A he took her shrinking hand. ‘* Allow me!” he said, and drew it once more through his arm. a » CHAPTER XXII. THE TEST OF LOVE. Wnuat terrible thing had he in store for her? The lady allowed herself to be led away, her heart sinking with cold forebodin When she saw the b the ; : | ' | | the hands of Satan, : i instinct could have recognized it. ‘Spare your roposals. We reject them by anticipation. t us have acts, not words.” Mrs. Burbank had sunk to her knees, with clasped hands and face like marble. And oh! the mute agony of those tearless eyes! William Swanton bowed to her, smiling and arching his eyebrows, as again he spoke: ‘Carlton Burbank, are you not surprised that I call you by name? Do you know who lam?’ He paused, but there was no reply. Witha look of hate which drew up his bearded lip until his teeth showed like fangs, he resumed: ‘lam he who was known as Tom Tracy—one who had little cause to love you or Harold Bearsley in those old days. Need I say more?” There was a pause until every one else de- spaired of an answer; but, with a grim smile, William Swanton waited patiently till the hol- low cavern gave forth the denunciation: ‘“Tom Tracy, I always knew you for a knave; but I never before supposed you possessed of cour- age enough to proceed to the length of murder. ay I yet live to Mees oe your guilty head the blood of my friend, whom I now believe to have fallen by your treachery !” ‘* Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the renegade. ‘It is not at all likely that you will ever live to exact so righteous an eRenOn, friend of my youth. On the other hand, I am come, an instrument in perhaps you would say (a convenient cant name for the author of events | when they turn out not to our taste!) tocall you { i | ee oe eee ’ ' reached such a | | wood piled high before the face of | for life? Will you ment, she pressed her hand over her | to account for that act of your life which has won my undying (not grateful) remembrance. And to show that my divinity—atan, you un- derstand—is in the ascendant, I have only to re- mark that your gentle wife, my one-time sweet- heart (destined to be the consolation of my age as she was the aggravation of my youth!) an our sweet daughter—since it was I, and not the ndians, who captured her tender person—are now here in my power, waiting to take their final leave of you, with your blessing!” “You lie, you accursed varlet!” came in re- verberating thunder tones from the cave. ‘*Swect mistress, speak,” sneered the rene- gade, turning to Mrs. Burbank. ‘Tell your gentle lord that you languish in exile from his fond embrace.” The lady stared at her tormentor in mute hor- ror, with repellent hands and shrinking form. ‘‘ Ah! that’s your game, is it?’ said the rene- gade; and turning he addressed a few rapid words to the Indians in their tongue. “Will you speak?’ he demanded, turning again to Mrs. Durbank, and grasping her ari. Her white lips never moved. With a sudden cry of rage he thrust her from him, raising his hand in the air. At the signal the savages rushed upon the helpless lady with drawn knives and toma- hawks, uttering a single concerted, blood-curd- ling yell which rent the silence and then died, like a sudden flash of light. This device was a second attempt to betray the lady into a scream which should corroborate the statement that she was there. Its failure was even more signal than in the first instance. Mrs. Burbank covered her face with her hands, in expectation of instant annihilation, but ut- tered no sound. The mute prayer of her heart was: ‘“‘Oh God! supplement my woman’s weak- ness, that | may not betray my husband into . or eK of his deadly foe through his love for me feet an oath Swanton signaled his allies to retire. The Indians looked puzzled and a little impa- tient. They did not appreciate the white man’s method of breaking a woman’s will. Did he not understand the persuasive logic of a fire- brand applied to quivering flesh? The renegade made one more attempt. ‘** See!” he cried, seizing a burning brand and holding it over the pile of brushwood which filled the mouth of the cave. “If I light this ile, the fools within the cave die of suffoca- ion, like rats in their hole! ‘Your act shall de- cide their fate! ‘You shall be their savior or their executioner! Will yon give them a chance The woman drtende her hands and parted heart and seemed about to faint; but Swanton | her lips, as if to avert the awful danger; the stung her back to vivid life by passing his arm about her waist to support her. : ‘*Wretch!” she cried, recoiling from his arm as from the fold of a serpent. Swanton smiled grimly. His act had been remeditated. He had sought to betray her wife was mute! ‘f was a spectacle weirdly tragic—the women kneeling in dumb supplication; the destroyer, ! | with his black form and threatening brand; the ; circle of savages, with their fierce eyes and half-drawn weapons!—an awful tableau, which into an exclamation which should reach theears | lasted but a moment, though it seemed an age. of the tenants of the cave, and be recognized by the husband’s quick ear. But instinctively she had closed her lips over the cry which rose in her throat, and muffled the sound so that it re- tained no distinctive quality. ‘You are a shrewd one!” mused Swanton. <3 scent difficulty in bending you to my pur- \ | | Then with a furious imprecation the renegade hurled his burning torch among the fagots. ** Die a dog’s death!” he cried, with a sound- ing oath; “‘and with your last gasp reflect that, through your wife and daughter who live— ay! thank the fiend! who live/—my vengeance follows you even after death!” The w was rent by a wild yell from the a le i a a a i yt ee ge eS mee Le PE BS A Oe mss s ‘ ra a gale exexe) EOr _ ee ee - ¢