Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 4 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

16 Indians; there was the sound of .a falling body, as Mrs. Burbank sunk upon her face ina deadly swoon; and then only the crackling of the tag | ’ ots, as the flames licked them until they b giving forth little spirts of steam and smoke. And while the areughs sucked the deadly breath of the fire into the cavern, the destroyer stood with folded arms gazing at it; and his | dark frown made more than one savage feel for his amulet and mutter—‘‘ Big Medicine!”—his superstition making him dread lest this man possessed the charm of the evil eye. CHAPTER XXITI. SMOKED OUT. AND now let us return to tho tenants of the cave. As the yell which announced that their place of concealment was discovered reached their ears, father and daughter clasped each other in a clinging embrace, the one seeking, the other extendin z, without thought, that beautiful pro- | hav tection which springs from love as naturally as warmth comes with the sunshine. Burly Bill crept throug) tho passagos to recon- noiter; Hal placed himself at the inner mouth of the corridor in an attitude of defense; but Walter (so truly do our instinctive movements show tho heart!) unconsciously drew near the woman of his love, as if he would be the last barrier between her and her foes, ‘* Papa,” whispered tho terrified girl, ‘‘ they have discovered us! Oh! will they tear me from you again?” ““Hash! my child,” said the father, holding her trembling form more closely in his arms and touching his lips to hor forehead. ‘*‘ We are safe from them here.” ‘** We could defend this passago against an army,” said Walter, addressing Blanche in a low tone. He knew that they might have a more impalpable foo than the Indians; but ho desired to relieve her until the danger was ac- tually upon them. **Oh, thank you for that assurance!” she ro- plied, ani—impelled by what feeling?—oxtended er hand and laid it on his arm. The touch thrilled him. Hoe longed to bend and touch that fair hanl wit his lips. He did not move until shs toox it away, fearing to pre- cipitate the severance. fhen they remained silent until Burly Ben re- turned. ** Well?” said Mr. Burbank. “We're in a trap, an’ no mistake,” replied Ben,. dejectedly. * Bat taey cannot come in upon us?” “ No. ” The monosyllable was like the tolling of a Irmell. Witaout understanding its significance, Blanehe clunz more closely to her father, feel- ing his kisses on her hair. , arly Ben stood with bowed head, his hands claspel over tae muzzle of the rifle which he kn2w to be now useless. Hal was ghastly pale in the torchlight. Was he hauntel by visions of that wife with whom he mizht soon be confronted, under that eye from which no act can be hidden? Walter stool with averted face. He could not bear to look upon the woman whom even his great love was now powerless to protect. Ani so the silence of death fell upon them, to be broken by tho rude challenge: ‘* What, ho! within the cave!” Blanche started violently. **Oh, papal” she whispered, ‘‘that is Mr. Swanton’s voice!” “Tae vila must bo in leaguo with the In- dians,” sail Mr. Burban'r. en camo Swanton’s offer of protection. ‘Do not believe him, papa!” urged Blanche in terror. *‘ iio is utterly faithless. I would rather die than fall a-ain into his power!” “Have no fear, my daughters I would as SOR yy te of giving you up to a serpent as to Mr. Burbin's held his dauzhter on his breast with a duil foreboling in his heart taat this was the last of tacir association on earth. His mind revertel to his wife, with whom he had becn force to part even in the firss hours of her bo- reavement, When her daugoter’s fate was in such terrible suspense. epcieget he toll ovor those last moments t» Blancae, who wept softly, anl toll him of her own suffering at tho thought of how they must grieve for her; thon mur.aired her joy at being once more ia his arms; and lastiy tricl to look hopefully far- ward to a pappy. reanion with her mother. But, here the prt os of hor struggle azainst the depressing fear which hung over them like a pall touched the fatuer to tho heart; and tears which would not be reprossed fell upon her hair with his kisses, Near the mouth of the corridor sat Burly Ben, with bowed head, giving no outward indication that he heedel what was going on about him; yet he was listening to Blanche’s voice, though she spoke so low tiat he could not distinguish the words, ant its pathetic cadences cut him to the soul. | “Td go out an’ Ict ’em roast mo—darn my buttons, if I wouldn’t!—if it ‘ud save the sweet | iuavveat!” muttered tae honest fellow, brushing | The New York Library. a I —_— -—— oe me the back of his hand across his eyes. } ** But it | wouldn’t do no good. After they’d chawed up | one—the varmints!—they’d be for the rest.” trollable agitation. At every turn his restless eyes wandered over the other occupants of the cave, but without heeding them. There wasa 1 the hungrier | feet. ‘And what a fool I’ve been to set here idle all this time! ‘Squire Burbank, wo’vo got to git out o’ this. Thar must be some other out- _ let to this here cave—any way, we've rot to ind mt Bearsley paced the chamber in uncon- | e more terrible spectacle which he sought to | evade, but which confronted him, look where he might. Everywhere he saw a white face which stared at him in mute, horrified wonder. she is cold?” he asked himself, with a shudder. ‘‘ Great God! is this a foretaste of the tortures of the damned?” | Through all his misery Walter looked in won- one. We can’t go out the way we comein; for, not countin’ the fire, if a thousand men tried to sit out o’ there,, an’ the Injins wantcd to stop em, thar wouldn’t one on ’om git three feet from the openin’. Nomore kin we stay in here, unless we’re salamanders an kin breathe fire en’ smoke. There’s a lot of-other passages lcadin’ _from this cave; an’ I’m a blamed fool fer not ‘Is vengeance so swift? Must.I die before | , der and indignation at the man who went not | near his affianced bride at such a moment. Had such been his | ecstasy and a pang of stinging pain darted | through his heart at the thought—he would e been on his knees beside father. He, like Ben, would gladly have laid | down his life for her; but he was denied even that poor privilege. He must wait in utter helplessness for the death which would overtake them all—a bitter task for his young and ardent soul, “Tf I could only show her how willingly I would die for her!” he cried, internally. When Swanton, in ignorance of Blanche’s resence in the cave, had declared that she and 1er mother were in his power, then the rage of the honest scout burst all bounds, and he shouted: ‘* You lie, you accursed scoundrel!” But_ when Swanton was heard addressing Mrs. Burbank with sneering coolness, Blanche turned pale and whispered: " Papa, can it be possible that mamma is there? ‘* No, my child,” replied her father. ‘‘ The fact that he includes you shows that he is lying. And before leaving her I saw your mother in safe hands on her way to St. Paul.” ** But let me call to her, ey If she is there she will surely answer me. And that will settle the matter.” : ‘‘No. Do not betray roar presence with us. It may be better to keep him in ignorance of it, if Walter’s friends succeed in rescuing us.” With a sudden lighting up of hope, Blanche turned toward Walter, and extended her hand with an ineffable smile. ‘*Oh! I had forgotten them!” she exclaimed. ‘‘ They will do something for us, will they not, Wal—Mr. Weston?’ With the sudden lifting of depressing fear all restraint had been thrown off, and her whole heart had spoken in tones and looks, till she was recalled to herself with a shock, upon being so nearly betrayed into the use of his Christian name, in unconscious imitation of her father. Then a wave of crimson dyed neck and brow, and her eyes fell before the sudden ardor of his gaze, as he caught her hand before it too had ime to drop at her side. As it was, the hand restel limp and trembling in a grip which would have hurt her, had not she been too agi- tated to notice it. But he had no knowledge whether his touch was gentle or otherwise. His blood was aflame; his head swam with a question which got as far as—‘* Does sho—can she—” and was then swal- lowed up in a great sea of beatitude in which all coherency was lost. He had a dizzy sense taat the words—‘‘ My darling!” were g agoriars o2 his lips. There is no telling what he migh have done, had he not caught sight of Hal, who had stopped in one of his turns, and now stood opposite him regarding him with a broad stare. he effect was like that of a plunge into ice- water. Walter is i Blanche’s hand, al- most staggering under the shock, But, the next instant he was himself again. “Let us hope that they will aid us in some way,” ho said, in a voice which was a triile husky. ‘‘They both are brave and subtle men, and will do everything that men can do,” Great crises always rapidly. The emo- tions which made up this little by-play came and went like a flash. Following his daughter’s address, Mr. Burbank looked up at Walter, over his daughter's head, just too late to catch the ro man’s wrapt look. He did. not see lanche’s blush, because her face was turned away from him toward Walter. Neither did h» notice her trembling, until the yell of the In- dians in Swanton’s second attempt to betray the devoted wife into a scream surcested a cause which was far from tho true onc. Then he gathered her more closely in his arms to re- assure her, and wholly misinterpreted her hid- ing her face in his breast. at the culminating act of the drama was at ‘hand. The baffled renegade hurled the brand iato ip of fagots, and into the cave staked a cowled and shrouded foo to whoce entrance his victims could oppose no barrier, and against whom their ge were useless, Burly Ben felt the deadly breath of the fire fiend 7 “ps his caeeck. If roused him into sud- Con activity. ‘It has come at last!” he cried, starting to his position—and a thrill of | havin’ sense enough to try before this if some on ‘em don’t lead to daylight. There wouldn't bea draught here, if there wasn’t some other openin’. It'll be unlucky for us, if it’s where we can’t git out of it.” ** Walter, do you know nothing of these pas- sages?” asked Mr. Burbank. ‘The cave must be known to your friends, since Blanche found a loaded rifle here.” er, joining his | | consolations and sharing her love with her | _ chamber.” _—_— — ee ‘Yes, [ have been in the cave before; but neither Shang nor Bantam has eversaid any- thing about the passages leading from this ** Then let us explore them for ourselves; and that without delay. We have lost golden mo- ments in not thinking of it before.” ‘I shall never forgive myself,” began Walter, flushing deeply at the thought that, while be- moaning the lack of an opportunity to lay his life at the feet of the woman he loved, he had overlooked the most ordinary expedient for her safety. eRatl tut!” interrupted Mr. Burbank. “ You are no more to blame than the rest of us. ‘*Ben, we look to your experience to lead us in this matter.”’ ** Well, then, lively! We haven’t no time to lose. Light these torches. An’ you, sir, stay here with Miss Blanche, while the rest of us hunt for a way out. Keep yer heads below the smoke, if ve have to lay flat on the ground.” Almost in a moment Walter, Hal, and Ben had plunged into the first pa on the left, with lighted torches in their hands. CHAPTER XXIV. A LIVING TOMB, WALTER, Hal and Burly Ben had proceeded scarcely fifty paces, when the tortuous passage contracted into a crevice too narrow to be fol- lowed further. ‘That ends that!” said Ben, and ran back to the main chamber so rapidly that his com- anions with difficulty kept pace with him, be- ing careful not to extinguish their torches, since re-lighting them would necessitate a eater Joss of time than more moderate speed. Without a word to Mr. Burbank, Ben dove into the next passage on the left of the one they had just penetrated. This ended in an abrupt wall like the inside of a glove-finger. “ ~ ‘*\We would save time by each taking a pas- sage for examination,” sug’ Hal. “No,” said Ben; ‘where Miss Blanche’s life is at stake I trust no eyes but my own. Another thing—Ill find work for you soon.” The next passage proved Ben’s wisdom, Threading it, they came to a point where it ramified into several branches. ‘Stand you here in the wig ch we've on come through,” he said to Walter. ‘lf we lose that, d@’ye understand, we might not find our way back to the ’squire and Miss Blanche in a dog’s age. + OM; ithout another word he a into the first branch on the right, followed by Hal. From this they soon emerged. “Tighter’n a drum!” said Burly Ben, in an- swer to Walter’s look, and dove into the next opening. : This time Walter had to waitlonger. The reason was that, coming to a fork in this branch, Ben stationed Hal as he had Walter, and pro- ceeded alone. Reaching a third forking of the passage, he was forced to make his cap do ser- vice in lieu of another sentinel. _ : ‘« Tow would the lad have had he struck this crab’s-leg alone?’ muttered Den, without pause in his rapid examination. It took a clear head and some experience to examine every nook and corner without locs of time; for the ges were labyrinthine in the'r intricacy; but this was not the first tithe Bon had threaded such a mazo; and when he emeryod from the third passage into the presence of the anxious father and daughter, he. would have taicen his oath that he had exhausted all it; windings. “No opening yet?” asked Mr Burbank, delay-_ ing him a moment. Rov foarenel me a And Ben disappeared a for me, | Now, he moved more rapidly than _ beforo, Ilis eyes darted hither and thither with burning anxiety. Hehad seen that the main chamber was fast filling with smoke; and he knew not . — how many more rods of passage lay before him > ero he a _ — or was forced to abandon the search as oss. ‘Not a hale iia enough for a gopher!” he muttered, as he was mct oy Bye 8 oy after disappointment. ‘* My ! don’t let her die here, like a rat in a hole|” | A eT A Te a a aa i , 7 eee _ a - SS