Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 41 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

22 Beadle’ s Dime Library. ‘‘Tv’s no use to send him to Salt Lake as long as he’s in this condition,” he muttered. ‘‘The man is a lunatic beyond a doubt. I don’t believe that he’s seen Gold Dan at all; in madness he dreams of delusions.” The sound of the hoof-beats of the flying steed died away in the distance, and the Danite dismissed the subject from his mind. “‘ Now for Polly,” he murmured, as he turned and again looked upon the body of the Mormon, slainso mysteriously by the secret assassin. ‘‘Whoever fired the shot did me a service, for Biddeman meant mischief,” he mused. ‘The girl is up-stairs, I suppose. Poor child! it was a narrow escape for her; this fellow would have had no mercy upon her, and to think that for years I have been low and degraded enough to do the dirty work of such rascals as this hound and the rest of his brethren! Bah! Iam worse than a red-skin!” With this contemptuous exclamation, the Danite proceeded to search the ranch in order to discover the prison-place of the girl, which was soon found, and great was the joy of the captive when she looked upon the stern face of the Danite chief. Man of blood though he was, hated by some and feared by all, yet on this occasion he seemed like a guardian angel to che girl. “Oh, Mr. Clark, you will take me away from this dreadful place, won’t you?” she cried. ‘“Yes, you are free to depart; no one will attempt to detain you,” he answered. ‘And Mr. Biddeman?’ Polly questioned, with a timid glance around as though she feared the burly Mormon would step for- ward and attempt to prevent her departure. ‘¢You need have no more fear of him,” replied Clark, in his grim way. ‘‘He will never trouble anybody any more, in this world.” The girl understood his meaning, and a slight shudder passed over her slender frame. : ‘And you had to kill him to save me?’ she asked, grateful and yet regretful that blood had been shed. ‘No, he did not fall by my hand, although as things stood, the chances were that he would either kill me or I him, within ten minutes, when some unknown party settled the matter by shooting the elder through the window.” ‘‘And you do not know who it was?” “No; not the slightest idea, excepting that it was no friend to the Mormons, and perhaps not to me, although, if the party had chosen he might as easily have settled me as the elder, for I was nearest to the window.” ‘““Oh, let me get away from this horrid place!” the girl cried, impulsively, advancing toward the door. The Danite moved to one side, to allow her to pass. She paused, irresolutely, in the entry. “J am afraid to go alone,” she said; ‘‘ will you not come with me?” ‘‘ Afraid to go alone, and yet not afraid to trust me?” he asked, his strong voice growing quite soft, and even tender. Trustfully she extended her hand to him. “No; [am not at allafraid of you, though men do talk evil of you.” The stern face of the Danite seemed to grow darker and sterner than ever, as he took the little hand of the girl, and conducted her down the stairs. ‘‘The horses are in the corral,” he said, as they paused by the open door of the ranch; ‘within an hour’s time, you shall be safe at home.” ‘Oh, how can I ever repay you for this great kindness!” she exclaimed, in an outburst of gratitude. “Repay me!” he replied, and his voice seemed to tremble as he spoke; ‘‘why, when you hear men speak of John Clark—when you hear him called a villain and a cutthroat, just close your ears and try to remember that, bad as he was, he dared to brave the wrath of the Saints of Utah by rescuing you, a helpless victim, from their hands,” ‘“ Why do you stay here?” she cried, abruptly. ‘‘ This is not the only country in all the world! If you were to go to some far-off land, no one there would know any thing about you; you could begin life anew, and if you haven’t done quite right in the past, you can strive to make up for it by doing a great deal of good in the future.” “Polly, your advice is good, and I ought to act upon it,” he replied, slowly, ‘‘ bot it’s hard work for a man to get out of the traces when once he’s fairly in; besides, I haven’t got anything to live for, and I might as well die here as anywhere else. There’s a tough time ahead for the Mormons, or I’m out in my reckoning. In the future they won’t be able to carry matters with the same high hand that they have done in the past. No, Polly, I’ll stay here and die in my tracks, with my boots on, as many a better man than me has done.” “Isn’t there any thing that will induce you to quit this life and go away?” she asked, earnestly. And as she put the question, looking eagerly with her big, blue eyes full into the dark-browed face of the Danite, a wild wish came up in the stern heart, which long ago he had believed to be dead to all tender emotions. “Yes, Polly, one thing would induce me to go away and make a new try for it.” “Oh, go—do go!” she cried, impulsively. “If [ could get a little girl like you, Polly, to go with me— to devote her young life to trying to make a better man of me, why, I'd try the riffle!” The girl colored in confusion, and yet her embarrassment was not unmixed with joy, for in her heart of hearts she favored this great giant of a man—this terrible Danite chief, Long John Qlark, Duke of Corinne, It was the old story. As the poet says: ** In joining contrasts lieth love’s delights, Hence hands of snow in palms of russet lie; The form of Hercules affects the sylph’s; And forms that ease the lion’s fear-prooft heart, Find their loved lodge in breasts = se tremors dwell,” “Polly, what do you say?’ the Danite asked; ‘‘ will you go with me? I’m no Mormon with a dozen wives! In fact, in all my life, I never before saw the woman that was worth two straws to me until you came across my path; but you, why, I’ve seen you grow up from a child, and I’ve watched over you as a father would watch over his first-born, and when I heard that this brute of a Mormon had lured you away, I made up my mind to have you back, if it cost a dozen lives. I’m their Mor- mon dog, but ’'m ugly sometimes, and just as apt to bite friend as foe; they know it, too, and there’s not one of the Saints, from Brigham downward, but will think twice before he crosses the path of John Clark. Come! say the word, and I’ll take you miles and miles away from here! We’ll go ’way off over the Rockies to the golden shores of the Pacific; we’ll find a home amid the foot-hills, where we can forget the past—forget that we ever knew such a place as this modern Sodom of a Utah!” ‘“‘T will go anywheres with you,” the girl said, simply and shyly, hiding her face upon his broad breast as she spoke. ‘‘ Heaven help me to treat you well, so that you may never have cause to regret this step!” the Danite exclaimed, earnestly, stooping his massive head and touching the forehead of the girl with his lips. And then, as the soft sound of the caress trembled on the air, there came the sharp, quick bark of a pistol-shot, fired from the extreme end of the entry in the rear; the door sud- denly slammed to and the key turned in the lock outside. A stifled gasp of mortal agony came from the red lips of the girl; her head sunk back, and as quick as the lightning’s flash the consciousness came to John Clark that he held a piece of lifeless clay within his arms. For a moment he stood like one turned into stone, and then a step in the front door seemed to rouse him into action again, and, turning, he faced Gold Dan upon the threshold! CHAPTER XXIX, A CLEW AT LAST, FRAMED in the open doorway appeared the figure of the plainsman, gazing with astonished eyes upon the tragic scene, Involuntarily the strong right hand of the Danite grasped the butt of his revolver, while at the same time with the other he supported the helpless form of the stricken girl. But Gold Dan was on the alert; he had been assailed too often lately to permit himself to be again taken at a disadvantage. His revolver was out, and with the shining tube he covered the broad chest of the Danite chief. ‘Don’t attempt to lift your hand, or ll drill a hole right through you!” he cried. ‘I’m not seeking a quarrel, but if it does come, I'll have the first crack!” The thought of the Danite had been that the plainsman was the author of the mischief done to the girl, but a moment’s reflection dispelled the idea. The shot had been fired from the rear, and almost at the same moment that Gold Dan had appeared in the front doorway. Clearly it was impossible that he could be the secret slayer. In the mind of the Danite there was not the slightest doubt that the shot had been aimed at his life, but a sudden move- ment of the girl had baffled the plan, and at a fearful cost. “Go your way, stranger!” cried Clark; ‘‘you and I will never be friends, but at the present moment I seek only: the cowardly hound who fired the shot that has resulted so terribly.” “Tg she dead, poor child?” Alas! I fear so,” and big tears stood in the eyes of the stern, strong man. A convulsive movement unclosed the lips of the stricken girl, and a few words escaped from them. It was the last effort of life. ‘Oh, how could you kill me?” she murmured, and then‘she whispered a name; so low and faint that it seemed only a sigh, but the quick ears of the Danite caught the sound, and a look of wonder passed over his face. ‘Can it be possible?’ he murmured. He bent over the girl as though he fain would have questioned her, but it was too late; the spirit had fled, and stern John Clark saw that he held a life- less form within his arms. Slowly, and as gently as a mother soothing her’ first-born, the fierce chief of border war carried the helpless form and deposited it upon the rude settee, which formed: part of the furniture of the room, laid the nerveless arms carefully across the sw bosom, that, but a few short minutes before had beat with joy and hope, and then he turned and faced the plainsman, who still lingered upon the threshold. ‘You seek something—what is it?” ““A tall, dark fellow who has twice attempted my life to- night,” replied Gold Dan, promptly. ‘What have I to do with him?” ‘Ts h@ not one of your gang?” “My gang!” Clark asked, slowly, but with a vacant expression upon his face, which plainly revealed that his thoughts were far away. “Yes, a Danite.” **Oh, no,” The denial did not convince the plainsman, ‘Twice, to-night, have I escaped him almost by a miracle,” he said. ‘He came this way, and I have followed close upon his footsteps. This isa Mormon ranch, and just the place to-afford him shelter,” : GComicboo