Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 438 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

“4 - piles Seo A = ——_—- - a ee ee ee ee le Oe eS Oe = An appalling roar suddenly came across the plain, borne on the wings of a blast so mighty that it actually staggered the horses, and lifted the heavy wagons on two wheels as the father and son instinctively changed the course of their teams in obedience to the wildery of their guide. Only the one blast. Then a frightful stillness took its place, and the imperiled travelers panted, asped, as they sought to regain the breath Seige from their lungs by that avant courier of the “‘ twister.” It was like being caughtina vacuum. That howling blast seemed to have takea every breath of air with it as it went sweeping over the dry lain. a Drive—it’s life or death!” panted Oklahoma Nick, savagely plunging spurs into the quiver- ing flanks of his good horse, heading a little east of south, racing away at top speed, clasping the stili struggling maiden in his strong arms. One glance at that frightful monster in the distance—just long enough to see that terrible tongue sweeping the plain in fantastic circles, licking up the grass and dirt and whirling a great wave of both commingled to the right and the left—and then the two men lashed their frightened horses, rolling swiftly, desperately over the prairie, running a race with death! A mighty roar filled the air. A roar as of a thousand loaded trains rushing over a vast bridge, so far as volume was concerned; but how vastly more frightful! Only one who has heard the voice of such a tornado can even faintly imagine its nature. Only one who has seen the devastating monster from a safe point of observation can even dimly picture its its horrible beauty— fascinating re- pulsiveness. The wide-spreading top of lurid greenness, constantly swallowing itself in the center and curling up and over and inward again from all sides. The monstrous tongue of death and de- struction sweeping around ina frightful circle, tearing great trenches in the ground, hurling dirt and grass and rocks about like parry ag then curling up and writhing in the air like the scorched tongue of a monstrous serpent, only to straighten out again after a mighty leap, to seek fresh objects on which to wreak its fury. Thus in monstrous leaps came the “ twister,” in a direct line for the apparently doomed boomers. And even, as they watched its coming with fear-distended eyes, seeming to veer to the left, as though resolved to claim its victims! And mingling with that deafening roar, came wild shricks and wails as of human beings suffer- ing the tortures of the damned, only with voices magnified a thousandfold. ‘*Together—in death,” gasped Oklahoma Nick, bowing his head closer over the quivering form in his arms as though he could thus protect her from the screaming blast that now assailed them. He drove his bloody spurs again and again to the’sockets in the flanks of his steed, though that _ poor creature was already striving his utmost to outrun death. He felt the animal stagger, felt him reel unsteadily as the whirling blast assailed them with howling fury, and a fierce curse grated through bis clinched teeth as he jerked on the bridle-reins to steady the poor animal. ‘On you brute! For her—for my love!” He lifted his head and tried to note how near that frightful engine of death and destruction had come, but in vain. The fierce blast tore the hat from his head, and sent a million piercing angs through his scalp, as though his hair was ing torn out in one mighty handful. The sand and dirt pene his face and filled his eyes, shutting out all sight. It was like staring at a blank wall at midnight. ‘‘On—save us, you brute!” he gasped, hardly realizing what he strove to cry aloud, but what was only dimly impressed upon his brain; for the human voice was as naught in that awful tumult. ‘‘To lose her now! To lose—to lose—” Even thought was denied him as the fury of the wind seemed to increase a thousandfold. He was only conscious that they were being carried to one side, their onward progress checked by a power too great for mortal strength with. He knew that his borse was Saisie twist- ed from its feet, despite its frantic struggles. He knew that they were caught in that fright- ful vortex, out of which so few have come with life! Even in that awful moment, when death in one of its most awful forms seemed claiming themin, his love conquered. He tried to pro- nounce the name of his loved one. He even sought to reach her lips with his, all blinded as he was, Butin vain He felt her torn from his arms, and then—un- consciousness! CHAPTER II. \ “«& KANSAS ZEPHYR.” ‘‘ Ain’? gittin’ shivery, be ye, pard? Don’t feel like they was any resk o’ buttin’ the nose 0’ ye ram-up ag*inst the North Pole afore ye know it? I'm kinder tender o’ my own self, but ruther then hev ye sp’ile the prittiness 0’ that’sweet m by frostin’ an’ freezin’, dummed ef I wouldn’ wart: my outside wraps—on’y say the word, para, | “Do you often have it this way?’ panted the —_— to cope | Oklahoma Nick. danna that was almost as damp. | ‘* A’ays, when the sign’s right,” with a half- | malicious grin. ‘* Because, if you do, I’ve settled one obscure | geographical fact that has often troubled me. It | was right here, or hereabouts, that the old man | stop to take a drink from a boiling spring, spluttering out as he beat a hasty retreat: ‘Run | fer it, sonny! Hell ain’t a mile from this sec- | tion!” | ‘*Pardner, that was my own dad, an’I was | that same sonny,” impressively uttered the | other, leaning over in bis saddle and extending | a strong, bronzed hand. ‘* That spring is jest | over yan-way a bit, an’ I’m goin’ to take you to | see it, so’s when you git off that ole chestnut | ag’in you kin bolster it up with genuine facts.” ‘Show it up, Balt, if you love me,” with fee- ble energy. ‘‘l want to take a dip in its boiling , waters to cool off. So, you brute!” as his horse , stepped on a loose stone and nearly dropped to | its. knees. ‘‘Careful—disturb my equal-abra- | bam too much, and my melted flesh will pour | out over my boot-tops.” ‘*'You ain’t hot ?” blurted the old man, his | dark eyes widely distended, mock surprise wrin- | kling up his rosy visage. ‘*Sprinkle me with sugar, and I’d be ice- | cream,” languidly murmured his companion, | sks pas, ht the saddle, and fanning himself | with a broad-brimmed hat. “ en. J a few | lar bears over my topworks, and all I lack of | eing an comers. is a puddle of salt water to | floatin. Hot? Dare to even whisper that word | again, Boomer Balt, and lll slit your blessed wizzen with an icicle!” Boomer Balt chuckled softly as he swung him- self from the saddle and stood beneath the same shade his companion had sought. This sort of badinage seemed to suit his tastes, though a close observer might have noticed a trace of uneasi- | ness in the casi with which he swept that por- | tion of the 4 eo visible from their present | location. ‘*‘ Waal, I hev see’d signs o’ frost a leetle mite thicker, pard, even in these whar—” ‘* Boomer Balt, you’re a fraud!” drawled his companion, with a weary wave of his hand, ‘*"You’re a delusion and a snare. It tears my tender heart wide open to even hint such a thing, but truth is mighty, and wiil prevail. | You're an impostor, Boomer Balt. You're a confidence-man of the most undisguised sort, | Boomer Balt, and it’s my confidence you’re fat- tening on just at present.” | ‘‘ Nothin’ wuss then that?” grinned the old | man. / “Your very title isa misnomer,” languidly | added the other, without noticing the interrup- tion. ‘Spell it Bummer, for Boomer don’t suit the skeleton you've tried to draw it over. What did I hire you for, anyway?” starting toasitting posture, scowling ferociously. ‘* You tell, critter,” nted Boomer Balt, with a shrug of bis broad shoulders and another searching glance across the visible sky. ‘*To guide me into the wilderness, otherwise | called Oklahoma, the Promised Land, the glori- | ous region where milk and honey fills the pee: tures knee-deep, and longevity is inhaled at every breath. Instead---Tartarus! Tophet! Hades! Twin-vowel-between-two-consonants! Old man, you’ve either lost your reckoning, or else you’re an emissary of the Evil One, paid to | bring unwary travelers into the infernal regions | by the overland route! And if we aren’t within rapping distance of those very portals vulgarly termed the gates of ahem! then this atmosphere is abominably deceiving!” ‘“‘Ef you’re ready, reckon wed better be mo- seyin’, pard,” bluntly cut in Boomer Balt, all humor fading out of his face as he scanned the heavens, his flexible nostrils quivering like those of a hound just striking a fresh scent. ‘*Impossible, my dear fellow,” with a faint. gasp. ‘‘ Fetch your wonderful spring to me, if | f must see it. Don’t ask me to move—don’t !” | ‘* Hitch your critter. The climbin’ ’s1 be too” up-an’-down fer anythin’ that hain’t got ten | good toes. We kin see a good bit from up yan- | way, I reckon,” with a searching look at the rocky hight before them. ‘*Couldn’t you fetch him down to me?” with | languid entreaty in face and voice. ‘ Or else | you do the bargaining in my name? I'll appoint you my deputy. and surely you're cunning | enough to cheat even the Old Boy!” Boomer Balt turned abruptly and stared keen- ly into the face of his companion, and there was | a shadow on his own countenance as of one who | was wearying of idle folly. A light in his dark — eyes that caused an instantaneous change to— come over the face of the other. ‘You're in earnest, Balt?’ he uttered, in a’ brisk, business-like tone in strong contrast to tae | one he had thus far used. ‘* You have an object | in taking this climb?” | ‘*It’s heap too hot fer that sort o’ funnin’, pard,” with a dry little laugh. “I’m goin’ up vender fer a good look. You kin go, or you kin stay. jest as suits ve best.” ‘Go it is, then,” and Henry Hornkohl sprung to his feet, active, energetic, business-like from top to toe. “Still, if it isn’t against your reli- gion, I'd like to meekly ask— what in thunder do - ‘ , 72 man addressed, mopping his faze with a ban- you expect to gain by this little expedition, any- way?” Again Boomer Balt gazed at him with that strange intentness, and a suspicious man might have read suspicion in that look. His eyes were filled with a bright glow, his lips parted as though to speak, but closed again with an audi- ble sound as though their owner was turning @ key on what he fancied might prove an impru- dent speech. Henry Hornkohl showed his strong white teeth for a moment, his bearded lips curling just a trifle as he laughed: ‘*T only asked for information, Balt, but I take it all back. Go ahead, and count mein on the ground floor. [I’m not partial to going it blind, but after an hour or two of this blessed | atmosphere, a man needn’t fear anything or any change; it cun’t be for the worse!” Boomer Balt laughed softly as he proceeded to tie their horses firmly to adjacent trees by their trail-ropes, shortened for that purpose. All his lightness came back to his voice as he spoke again: ‘* A body’d almost take you fer a tenderfoot from the fringe o’ the risin’ sun, Coldhorn, to liven. A body’d think you didn’t know what this dead heat means, mostly!” ‘“‘It means sweat, Boomer Balt,” and Henry Horrkohl mopped his <4, brow, then wrung the drops from his limp handkerchief. ‘* And if that’s the measure, a two-story bakery won’t be large enough to hold our rations of the staff of life this day—no sir!” Boomer Balt turned away and faced the steep with a shrug of his shouiders. This was not the first time he had given over the attempt to read his comrade. Not the first time he felt balf- angry, balf-uneasy at failing to penetrate beneath that plausible exterior. From the very first he decided that Henry Hornkohi was playing a part. That this brisk, voluble, yet secretive fellow, was holding some- thing important in reserve. That he was more than he wished to appear in the eyes of the man whom he had selected to guide him into the for- bidden country. For such was their present relation. Nearly a month before they had met for the first time, far to the north of their present loca- tion, on the level monotonous plains of Nebraska. In a modest, unobtrusive way, Henry Hornkobl was BR inquiries concerning a family named Wright. common enough name, but not so the prefixes: Evander, Permelia, Otelia, Pericles: only one family could boast of such an odd array. Curiously enough, Boomer Balt was interested in this same family, although he asked no o questions, seeming to prefer gaining the infor- mation he desired after another and more round- about fashion. And when it became known to both that the Wright family had sold out ata sacrifice, in order to join the mad rush to Okla- homa, it was not long before Henry Hornkohl engaged Boomer Balt as guide to that delecta- ble region. Not long, but only after satisfying himself that the old man was not an im rin claiming intimate knowledge of the Nation. With map in hand he questioned Balt as to the country, only closing the bargain when fully | satisfied that the guide was competent to act as such. As he briskly scaled the rocky steep, Boomer Balt looked every inch the ideal de. Tall broad-shouldered, athletic, wonderfully lithe and active for a man far past the meridian of life, as his long hair and beard of almost nowy white- ness indicated. A nobler-looking ancient despite his age, with his superb figure, stooped at the shoulders only when in inaction. His eyes were brilliant as though still in the prime of life, and his face was rosy with the ~ bloom of health 2nd active cut-door life. Take away his white hair and beard, and one would have set him down as still a young man. Henry Hornkohl looked more the product of city life, as he claimed to be, though of the bet- ter sort, If he had burned the midnight oil in his profession—that of lawyer, as he con- fessed—it was clear that he had not neglected his physical training. Neither tall nor short but of a happy medium, he was what is called “a deceiving man” in his make, physically speaking; one who would ‘‘ strip well,” and show a much larger development of muscle than a casual glance indicated. He was a half-brune in complexion, and since the twain took up their route to Oklahoma in quest of the Wright family, he had itted his beard to grow at will. It was thick, yet silken, of a chestnut hue, and really made him look handsomer than when only the tiny, close- clipped tufts bore bis ears company, as when Boomer Balt first met him. In age he might have been anything from thirty to forty years, and despite his ‘‘ city clothes,” now rather worn and travel-stained, he was a more than ordina- rily attractive man. Like Boomer Balt, Henry Hornkohl was well- armed; each waist was encircled by-cartridge- | belt, which carried a full supply of cartrid for the revolvers at their hips, and others for the repeating rifles which they left im the slings on their saddles. Despite his former languid demeanor, Henry “Ecomicbooks + ve * ee 5