Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 472 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

—_— — $ yo. m™ -# « ’ ~~ QU 6S Se Da i ' formidable than this chaff. It was the deadly click ! click! of Six-fooi’s Si’s revolver. ‘* Hold on, boss!” he pleaded, in a low tone. ** Don’t shoot! You’ve got me.” ““What’s that you’re growlin’ about?” de- manded his comrade. It would have been impossible for Six-foot Si to utter a command without being betrayed by his voice. Sam doubtless knew this, and he half-turned as if about to walk back to his companions, But, instead of doing this, he suddenly threw himself flat on the ground, so that his body lay at right angles to the line between him and 81, presenting the least conspicuous mark if the mg took it into his head to seek revenge by a shot. As he fell, he shouted at the top of his voice: ‘‘Help! help! Hyar’s a spy!” Si had hoped only to hold the fellow to silence long enough to give him a few steps start of the mob he knew would be at his heels a mo- ment later. But this maneuver of the outlaw precipitated matters. There was nothing for it now but in- stant flight. ; Without a word or a sound, Si bounded awa at the greatest speed he dared to, with a pitf hidden by the darkness at every step. He had the advantage of having come to the spot on foot, while his enemies had come on horseback, but they ‘‘ held over him,” in that, guided by the sounds of his flight, they could fill the woods with random shots, any one of which might fetch him down. They were not slow to avail themselves of this chance, and he was soon keeping step to the liveliest kind of music—the yells of a followin horde of bloodthirsty outlaws, the spitefu cracks of their revolvers, and the zip and patter of bullets. CHAPTER IL REVENGE! In a shanty in Milligan’s Bend sat a woman in every way remarkable. In stature she was rather above the medium hight, and her figure was rounded out, not with the voluptuous softness generally counted a charm in her sex, but with a harmonious mus- cular development such as the Greeks gave to the divine huntress. Her face, never relieved by that tinging of the cheeks which often gives beauty at the ex- pense of a sound constitution, was now sucha dead white as to be 1n almost startling contrast with her raven black hair. This effect was hightened by a wild gleam of the eyes which showed that her soul was stirred by some master emotion. She sat as motionless as a statue, gazing straight before her into vacancy. This was Beth Crawford, a girl who had crossed the continent, to find her lover dead, his body gashed with wounds every one of which cried out for vengeance on bis treacherous part- ner, by whose ruthless hand he had fallen, In spite of all remonstrance, ske had sat alone beside that stark body, counting its livid wounds, and calling heaven to witness the jus- tice of her resolve to reqnite them one by one. She it was whom Six-foot Si sought to ) the haunting horror of remembrance, by taking upon himself the vindication of her wrongs. With no knowledge of his interposition, she sat waiting the moment when she should go forth on her mission of revenge. Then came a light step, a timid knock, a gen- tle opening of the door, and the soft rustle of a woman’s garments, . Beth did not move or give any outward sign of consciousness, yet she knew without looking up that her visitor was the wife of Colonel Dangerfield, popularly known as “Iron Des- A moment’s hesitation, and the lady glided forward and twined her arms about the neck of the silent sufferer, pressing her tear-wet cheek against one that knew no such heavenly balm. ‘* Beth, my sister!” ‘¢ Mrs. Dangerfield.” The latter spoke with cold impassivity, unre- a i by tone, look, or gesture, to the impas- oned overtures of her visitor. **Do not repulse me so, dear!” breathed Mrs, erfield. , “* I have done with all humanizing influences,” responded Beth, grimly. ‘‘ Bring me_that which will steel my soul to mercy, and I will welcome you.” ** Ah! but you must forego all that—for your own sake, for all our sakes, We love you, and 1 — “IT want none of it!” cried Beth, rising, and fairly pushing Mrs. Dangerfield from her. ‘“*Pardon me,” murmured the lady, seeing her mistake when it was too late, “Tt is nothing,” said Beth, coldly. ‘ Only your efforts are mistaken, i Suppose it was you who set the minister on me,” “Indeed it was not!” “ Who, then, is so much interested in my af- ~ z At te ee dm Six-Foot Si. “*Tf it has given you offense, I should rather not tell you. It was well meant.” This had heen Six-foot Si’s first effort to dis- suade the woman from her revenge. ‘* As you please,” said Beth, indifferently. ‘* And yet,” pursued Mrs. Dangerfield, wist- fully, ‘‘I ho that he would be able to say something—’ ** It is not his fault,” interrupted Beth, ‘‘ that he is a young man, with much yet to learn out- side of books,” ‘* His heart—” ‘** The trouble is with his head.” Mrs. Dangerfield sighed, beginning to realize the hopelessness of the task she had undertaken, after two such opposite characters as the callow young divine and the battle-scarred Iron Des- pard had failed. ‘* But my husband,” she faltered. ‘* Has the wisdom to know when to desist. I am grateful to him for his forbearance, as well as for his Hees purpose.” “Can J do nothing for you?” “You can truly oblige me by abandoning this subject. Iam fully resolved.” **One word further. How can you find him? You have never seen him.” ‘*T have pored over this until I know his fea- tures better than those of my dead lover!” And Beth drew from her bosom a tin-type likeness of Bob Cady and his treacherous part- ner. Then, with an accession of fierceness that made her muscles grow rigid and her eyes blaze, she pursued: ‘* You see that the way has been opened by a Will not mine.” ' ‘** Oh!” exclaimed Mrs, Dangerfield, shocked at this unexpected interpretation of events. ‘* Why else was that placed in my hands?” in- sisted Beth. ‘‘It was the last thing he sent me, ‘* You must not! Indeed, dear, it is wicked to so—” ‘* Listen!” interrupted Beth, so sternly that the words of remonstrance died upon the lips of the gentler woman. Timidly Mrs. Dangerfield looked up at her, standing tall and dark and terrible, like some savage priestess of Druidical superstition. ‘Something of your life has reached me by current report,” pursued Beth. ‘‘ But one has only to look into your face, to see that you know what it is to love and to suffer.” ‘* Ah, yes!” breathed the listener, with a sad shake of the head. ‘Then you can follow me with some appreci- ation. You know Robert Cady only as a miner, rough-clad, rude in speech and manner, perhaps. JI know him as a farmer-boy, with none of the graces of culture, but strong of limb, warm of eart, and free of hand—the lightest dancer, the fleetest runner, the scoutest wrestler—every- body’s friend, a believer in everybody. No woman ever had a truer lover, a braver defend- er, [loved him! You know what that means.” ** Do I not?” ** And yet, when, fretting under the iron yoke of poverty, he got the gold fever, and proposed to make bis fortune in a twelvemonth in the mines, I let him go! Oh, that was the bitter mistake of my life! For five years I waited. His return was always a little in the future, when he had made a fortune he was ever on the point of achieving. I know now that it was that accursed cryptogram that led him on and on, until hope died in my breast. You wonder that I do not join in your tears. I have wept till the fountains of despair dried at their source. God knows if I shall ever shed tears again! _‘* Well, five years wrought changes in my life. An unexpected bequest made me my own mistress, Robert’s letters had become almost incoherent, in their abrupt alternations between wild hope and reckless despair, and finally ceas- ed altogether. I was almost crazed with anx- iety, lest something had befallen him. I could endure it no longer. Icametohim. You know what I found. I was six hours too late fora word, a sign! Now prate to me about resigna- tion, forgiveness, love of enemies! J°ll kill him !” Her eyes blazing, her nostrils dilating and quivering, these concluding words passed her lips like flames that would sear all they fell upon. Mrs. Dangerfield covered her face with her hands and shuddered. Beth walked away from her, and resumed her old seat and her old posture of stony resolve. It was im ible to intrude upon her again with words that seemed a mockery. . Dan- gerfield, with a delicacy rare among people who are bent upon ‘‘doing good,” stole out of the room without further molesting her. To her husband, as she recounted her experi- ence, she said: ** I never saw anything so terrible. The tide of her passion was like a resistless torrent—I was swept along by it in utter helplessness.” ** She must run her course,” replied Iron Des- pard, with a sad, far-away look in his eyes, ‘ We all have to.” is wife wound her arms about him in brood- i derness, and whispered: "e-We are safe, dear!” 4 “~ a BAY ey, \ ©. he ba ee pe F to camp that waked her companion u Ss comicbooks P ‘ “- — : amt: TE He put his hand upon her cheek, and pressed her face close to his, as he responded, in a deep voice: ** Thank God!” So, heart to heart, they rested in eloquent silence, till the twilight stole upon them una- ware. When it had deepened into darkness, Beth Crawford arose, left the shanty which a com- passionate miner had given up to her occupancy, and with slow step climbed an acclivity to a spot which was known as ‘‘ the Hight Lot.” Several mounds of earth ranged in a row told that this was the burial-place of the camp. All of the men who there slept their last sleep had died ‘‘ with their boots on!” A little apart from these a newly-formed mound stood by itself. Beside it the motionless figure of the woman loomed tall and spectral in the darkness. She may have stood there an hour, asif carved in stone, when she was startled by a voice say- ing: a It’s beggin’ yer pardon, mum!” CHAPTER III. INTO THE WOLF’S DEN! WiTH a quick movement Beth’s right hand disappeared in the folds of her dress, Other- wise she did not stir. Looking across the grave, whence the voice came to her, she could dimly discern the out- lines of a man, who stood hat in hand, **'Who are you?” she demanded, quietly. ‘You'll excuse me, mum, but I ain’t a-givin’ of myself away tell Isee whether I kin strike a bargain with ye.” ‘i ** Come to the point at once, then.” ‘“Tt’s jest this hyar. Some o’ the boys’lows as ye have itin ye fur to lay fur Joe Moran an’ come back at him fur all he’s worth.” **Do you mean, that I am resolved to seek re- venge?” ‘**'That’s it, mum, in better shape than I could put it.” ‘““They are right. fere?” ‘‘ Waal; ye see, mum, bein’s as you air a wo- man, mum, I had a notion that maybe ye wa’n’t goin’ the hull figur’.” ‘You were mistaken. so beggin’ di o you mean— n’ yer on, mum— inl?” y gin’ yer pardon, ‘Yes, I mean kill!” **Then you’re the man fur my money!” ‘Without more words, why are you here?” ‘Waal, ye see, Joe Moran 1s the dirtiest white man in this hyar section o’ country. He’s wound up by shakin’ the crowd what fit, bled and died fur to help him git them papers.” ‘*Of which company you are one?” ‘*Was one, ef you please!” ** Why have you separated from them?” ‘** That’s all along o’ Hank Budlong, the which I hain’t no use fur the like o’ him, fur sour ap- ples! Hank an’ the ae is layin’ fur Joe, jest wild. They ’low to salivate him bad, ef a kin pit their flippers on him. Waal, they hain got him yit, an’ what’s more, J have |” iE. And you are willing to sell your knowl- ge? ‘** I’m “lowin’ to sell out Hank Budlong an’ his crowd. Then I ain’t over sweetish on Joe Moran.” ‘* You shall be amply rewarded,” interposed Beth, | peers with eagerness. ‘““Ef you’re amind to divvy up when you > strike your pile, o’ course ’m agreeable. Money don’t sour on my stomach—lI will say that.” ‘*But I must have some assurance of your good faith, How dol know that you’re not a tool in the hands of Joe Moran, plotting my de- struction, as he effected that of my lover?” The man scratched his head, puzzled. ‘* Waal, I dunno, mum,” he said. ‘I never thought o’ that. I reckon you couldn’t git no- body in this hyar section o’ country fur to go my bail fur good character an’ sich, Pm a tough one, an’ that’s a fact.” ‘* Come! we will dispose of that difficulty. I will trust to my ability to watch you.” 4 ‘Git the drop on me, mum, an’ bore me ef you see anythin’ crooked.” **T will take you at your word. Now, how soon can you show me Joe Moran? ‘Right off the top o’ the deck! He’s layin’ low at Bloody Run.” ‘* How am I.to get there?” ‘* Bf you start now, you kin ketch the up stage at Biles’s.” ‘“*{ am ready.” : “It’s only fair fur to give you the tip about Bloody Run, before you _ yer footinit. It’s the toughest hole in this hyar section o’ country, the which thar don’t none worser lay outdoors!” ‘*T care nothing for the character of the place. Tm not looking for a paradise among such men as you! ' “You hit me off, mum, from the’ ground up, Still, you’d better see the swath you’re bound to- cut ef you git away with the Run.” : ‘* Very well. If you insist, you can relieve your mind as we go along,” | And without more ado, Beth set a pace back » Now, why do you inter- Iam going the whole | ed co: