Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 40 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

The Long Fiaired i Pards.’ seemed the only solution; yet who had held the | to back me up. Maybe we can scare him into fatal weapon? All was a black mystery, and thescout racked his brain in vain for a plausible solution, until, with an impatient sigh, he flung aside the be- wildering tangle and forced his mind to bus itself with other thoughts. This was not so dif- ficult as it may appear. As he closed his eyes a bright, beautiful vision stood before him—the image of the fair young woman whom he first met at the feast given in honor of her birthday —Kate Markham. And yet his thoughts were far from pleasing. He knew that she was not for him, even were he to escape the disgraceful doom which hung over his head. He knew that there was an impassable barrier between them— that they could never be nearer to each other than now. Then he forced himself to think of that other fair maiden—of the Indian girl who was working so earnestly for his salvation—of EKunora, daughter of the White Sioux. Bill Comstock had told him of all she was doing—of what she had pledged her father to accomplish, if the worst came to worst. ‘Why not?’ he muttered, unconsciousl speaking his thoughts aloud. ‘‘Why should ie for a crime another committed? If I give my consent the thing is done. Have these men treated me so generously that I need die the death of a dog rather than see a few drops of their blood shed? There are more ways of liv- ing than one. And if what Bill says is true there would be another to share my lot. And et—! Slowly the hours rolled by, and still the doomed prisoner sat upon his low pallet, think- ing, thinking steadily with his eyes fixed on va- eancy, only the swift changes as they swept athwart his countenance telling that he was more than a senseless statue. Only his eyes moved when a soldier brought him in food and drink; moved for one moment, then returned to the narrow thread of sunlight upon the floor that marked the passage of time. The lips of the soldier parted, and there was a peculiar glitter in his eye, but a sound from without seemed to check the words he would have ut- tered, and tapping upon the door, it opened and closed behind his form. Night came, dragged its weary length along, and when the gray light of dawn stole throu the narrow, grated window, it fell upon the white face of the prisoner, who still crouched upon his pallet, his eyes staring steadily as when the now rising sun had sunk to rest. A sound came to his ears, and his cheek flushed uickly as he straightened up, listening intently. Phere were words without the door, then the barrier swung open, giving admittance to the form of Bill Comstock. | The eyes of the two friends met, and the warm flush faded from the prisoner’s face, for he knew now that his wild hope was without foundation. : ‘* Don’t blame me, pard,” and the scout’s voice was husky as he spoke. ‘I did try, but *twasn’t no use. I couldn’t stay away no me knowin’ that the time was runnin’ away so ast —'twas like a rope was tied round my heart, the one eend here, an’ the more I pulled away the harder it pulled back. Call me a fool, ef you like, pard, but I cain’t help it! What little time thar is left us, I want to spend it long 0’ you. Ef you say go—Ill go; but Pll blow my fool heart out at the doorstep—so thar!” Happy Jack tried to speak, but there was a t swelling in his throat, and, manlike, he eared to force the words lest he should break down completely. Instead he clasped the scout’s hand, and the two men sat down, side by side, too full for speech. And Happy Jack knew that the world could not be so bad, after all, since there was left him a friend so true, so whole-hearted as this. Let those who knew him testify. Rough, un- lettered, superstitious Bill Comstock—a heart of purest gold was his! Thus the two friends sat until high noon. Then the door opened and little Dr. Hurlbutt entered, and grasping the prisoner’s hand, he shook it vigorously, ‘“Yhere! Isaid ’d do it—I told those pom- pous fools that they had sentenced an innocent man, whose little finger was worth double their souls lumped together—I told them that, and dared them to cashier me. I came here to say that you've got one friend, my boy—that’s me! Don’t give up yet—we're doing all we can for ou; don’t despair even when you stand facing he muskets. If nothing else will do, blamed if I don’t kick up a mutiny and blow all creation to thunder!” “Don’t get into trouble on my account, doc- tor,” and ‘Hap y Jack laughed as he gr: -Hurlbutt’s hand, =“ Now tell me—what is the “programme? I might as well be learning my part in the play.” ae ~ “You know the hour. The place is just be- yond the pavilion. There will be a general -‘tuster—for sake of the example, the old man says, but F told him it was because he was afraid your friends would kick up amuss! The firing party is under command of Sergeant Bowen—a stout friend of yours, my boy. And —that is all, I believe. I can’t stop. Bill, ’'m going to cuss the colonel alittle, and I want you postponing the hour.” Happy Jack nodded, and Comstock aceom- anied the doctor, grasping at the faintest hope. ut.as the hours crept by and Bill did not re- turn, the prisoner’s wonder grew into painful anxiety. Could it be that there was a plot in working for his rescue? Or—and it seemed as though the last gleam of light was blotted out— was all this but a ruse to separate him from his last friend? a trick to draw Comstock where he could be placed under arrest without dis- turbance, and thus insure his giving no trouble when the execution was taking place? Happy Jack arose and held out his hands as Lieutenant Blake entered at the head of a file of soldiers, to lead him to the place of execu- tion. In silence the handcuffs were applied, and the doomed man was led out from the silent fort. He saw that all was in readiness for the tragic act. The soldiers were drawn up in line. The officers were standing together, a little apart, And behind them, his face white and sternly set, was Bill Comstock. A sudden impulse seized upon Happy Jack, and he begged the lieutenant to allow him one word with Colonel Markham. The request was granted, and paus- ing before the group of officers, Happy Jack raised his handcuffed wrists and saluted. ‘Colonel Markham, I have one favor to ask of you. Nay,” he added, quickly, as the colonel made a gesture; ‘‘ you are the last man on earth of whom I would ask mercy. What I meant was—when you are through with Mr little amusement, please pass over what is left of me to my friend, Mr. Comstock. Will you consent to this?” Colonel Markham nodded shortly, then turn- ed away. Witha firm step, the doomed man strode on to the spot where a plain pine coffin lay covered with an army blanket, then turned and faced the firing party, a proud, half-defiant glow upon his handsome face. ‘* Make a sure thing of it, boys,” he said, with a low, musical laugh. ‘‘ Just imagine the White Sioux or some other rascal stands before you, and send your bullets home!” . ‘Is there apg can do for you—any message?” cried Dr, Hurlbutt, as he hastened up. % ack started, then said: ‘Yes! tell my friends that I died for the crime of another. Before God! Iam innocent!” The doctor his hands and seemed to be speaking earnestly. When he withdrew, the scout’s h was bowed, and his stout form was seen to tremble. But only for a moment. Lift- ing his head and gazing proudly around, he faced his executioners. The surgeon paused a few steps away. Bill Comstock glided nearer, one hand grasping a revolver, his ag glowing like fire. Colonel Markham waved his hand. A single, long-drawn note was sounded by the bugler. The shooting party leveled their weapons. Ser- geant Bowen gave the fatal command. Like one report the six muskets vomited forth their contents. Happy Jack swiftly raised his manacled hands to his breast, turned half-around, stag- gered one step forward, then fell heavily upon his face beside the pine coffin. Dr. Hurlbutt ran forward and stoo over the body, turning it so that the white face look- ed up to heaven. And upon the breast of the corpse the red blood was quickly spreading. The six muskets had done their duty! Bill Comstock uttered a wild yell, and leaping forward, fell upon his knees at the side of the coffin. Dr. Hurlbutt arose, and his voice rung out, cold and sternly: “The man is dead—shot through the heart !” CHAPTER XXVIII. Rarpeportandtiind>g fash) quickd As thes report and blinding quickly followed the stern challenge, it seemed to Mar- tha Bascom that the whole of her face had been blown away, so heavy was the shock, so intense the pain. Uttering a wild scream of agony, she staggered back, then fell heavily, just as the swift current swept Kate Markham from her foothold. More by instinct than owing to any fixed purpose, Martha Bascom flung out her arms and firm hold of a projecting root, the swift waters whirling her body around until she lay close along and partially under the low, overhanging : She heard the man who had fired the pistol-shot spring into the water with a loud, warning cry, and she knew that he had re ized her com- panion—for loud above the g¢ waters his voice rung out in warning that the captive was attempting an escape. She knew that the out- laws were fully aroused—and for a moment she almost resolved to release her grasp upon the friendly root and trust herself to the ne the river rather than that of her husband. But then came another thought. Often as she had wished for death, now that it almost stared her in the face, she shrunk from it, toon She heard the loud voice of Baby Tom, and that nerved her. With a desperate effort she crawled up the steep bank. But where could she go? She heard a loud shout come from the mouth of the tunnel nearest her; that avenue of | 23 escape was shut off. From beyond the river came the uncertain gleam of torches being kin- dled. She heard mont Tom plunge into the river, and lent strength by the emergency, she arose and glided across to the foot of the steep, almost perpendicudar mountain. Clutching vines and branches of the stunted shrubbery that vailed the hillside, she toiled on and up- ward, thinking only of eluding the fiercely- cursing men below, though she knew that each foot of progress was won at the imminent peril of her life. She saw the blazing torches flitting to and fro, borne by fiercely-cursing men, and when one came nearer than the others, she lay still, afraid that the painful throbbing of her heart would betray her presence; and then, as the torch re- ceded, she would draw herself up and on through the inky blackness. She saw the torches disap- peat within the tunnel, and knew that this was er one chance. With a strength and dexterity born of the emergency, she clambered on, more than once escaping a fall that could have been nothing less than death, yet pressing on and upward until her overtasked muscles refused to bear her further, and a deathlike faintness crept over her. Struggling resolutely against this, Martha Bascom leaned against the scrubb pine tree while she unslung the pouch of provisions, which she bad provided for their journey, from her back, and with the stout leather strap bound herself fast to the tree, yet in such a manner that she could back against the nearly perpendi- cular bank. None too soon was this precaution taken. Her senses gave way, and for many a long hour she lay like one dead. Below, the river brawled and roared; the outlaws passed and repassed and once their loud, angry voices grew low and almost fearful as they passed slowly along, the Piped is rhea torches lighting up a still, white- faced figure borne in their midst. Above, the storm elements were doing fierce battle. Heavy raindrops were borne upon the fiercely-howling winds, the thunder rolled and crashed, the forked lightning rent the — clouds with awe- some splendor. But where the senseless woman lay, the atmosphere was only gently disturbed, nor could the driving rain reach her, as yet. — As the night grew older, little rills 6f water came creeping down the steep hillside, here and there, growing stronger and gaining power with each moment, ing and incre in num- ber until the entire slope was moistened. Every now and then some huge bowlder, loosened by the penetrating moisture, would slide and leap and thunder down the hill until it plunged with asullen splash into the risin waters be low. And through it all Martha om lay like one dead; and when day began to dawn and the wild storm to abate, the waters had done their work thoroughly. Not a sign re- mained to tell Baby Tom that «iis wife had not been swallowed up by the turbid river—the trail her hasty flight had left was forever wash- ed away. When consciousness returned and her ey opened to renewed life, Martha Bascom saw that day had dawned, bright and glorious over- head, Below her all was gloomy and indistinet, She looked around for a more secure shelter; but there was none, and fearing to remain where she was, knowing nothing of what the friendl waters had done for her, and fearing with eac moment to hear the dreaded voice of her hus- band, she removed the strap, and securing the dampened provisions, turned her face toward the hill-crest and dragged her aching limbs on and upward. The saturated soil rendered her task doubly difficult, and after nearly an hour of severe labor, Martha Bascom found that she had ascended barely a dozen feet. In despair she paused upon the trunk of a leaning tree. Her brain seemed on fire—her limbs were al- most helpless, yet full of pain. She glanced downward, and felt tempted to end: all in one desperate plunge. Was life worth the living? _And then, one by one the events of her past life seemed to unfold their hidden leaves, to stand plainly before her. Shecovered her sd ea —_- ‘but the visions would not away. The | seemed to arise, their mournful or reproaching eyes looking down into her very heart—and she could hear their voices in the low whispering of the morning breeze as it eddied through the stiff foliage around and about her. <A bitter re parted the white lips, as she raised her ead and cast a fearful glance around. ‘*T will do what Ican to make amends—TI have repented, God knows! Mother in heaven! am I going mad?” : ; The fear of this gave her strength to fight back the visions of a dead , and to measure the full force of her present situation, She saw that the ascent-was one that. would severely task the powers of the strongest and most ac- tive man; and yet, she felt that, wounded and wearied as she was, she could accomplish the feat unless discovered by watchful eyes below. But to do this, she must nurse her strength, and opening the pouch, she forced herself to eat of e contents, though the act seemed painful. Her cheek, through which the sentinel’s bullet had tore, was very much swollen, but she could only bind it up with a rag torn from her dress. This done, she once more resumed her strug- Gom 100 € <SiGO