Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 500 — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

The True-Heart Pards. ‘<T do, senor.” ‘‘ Well, Martinez, here isa paper that I wish you to fasten upon it. ‘‘ Tt reads, as you see: ‘‘ Leave the gold here in the hollow of this tree. “Tf you do not do so a signal will be made to those in charge of the senorita, and your coming will be in vain. F. or F.” ‘**] will place it there, senor, as you request.” “It isa blind to make the man who comes with me deposit his gold as ransom. ‘*Then we are to go on and make the pretend- ed attack upon you, so that the American senorita will believe that he is her rescuer, risk- ing bis life against great odds to do so. ‘*T hope I have made all clear to you, Mar- tinez?” ‘* Perfectly, Senor Capitan.” ** Very well, now I will leave you, and to- morrow when we meet I will have orders for your future movements.” **T hope you will get a rich ransom for the lady, Senor Capitan, and that we can start off on some trails that will pay us well, for the men are Pee of late.” ‘‘ Let them grumble, for they cannot expect to have their lives all sunshine, * Remember, aftsrnoon to-morrow at the Silver Springs. ** Adios.” So saying Quevedo mounted his horse, and with a salute to his men rode away from the ie of the Foxes of the Frio, returning to- ward San Antonio, CHAPTER XXXVI. TRAILED TO DEATH. : THE prologue of my romanee has shown that the clever game of Quevedo, the chief of the Foxes of the Frio, was carried out. The gold was deposited, and he got it, and the attack upon the outlaws was a success, for James Endicott dashed off with Dolores. But when Endicott saw the party dash out upon them, heard the whistle of bullets and saw the horse of Dolores fall, his fright got the bet- ter of him and he fled at the utmost speed of of the animal he rode, ‘ He left Dolores Davenant again to her fate, while he saved himself and made all haste to return to San Antonio. This left Quevedo master of the situation, for he got Endicott’s gold, had the pleasure of knowing that Dolores Davenant believed him to be her rescuer, and she was once more at his ranch under his protection. ’ The next day he left San Antonio and started out for his ranch. He had seen nothing of Endicott, and sup- posed that he had decamped, not caring to face him again after his cowardly flight, for he well knew that he, Quevedo, was only shamming death when he fell from his horse and must soon return to the town, “T will bring the lady to San Antonio, place ber in pleasant quarters and win her love. **Then I shall have her fortune, and can af- ford to leave this wild land and turn gentleman.” Sosaid Don Quevedo, the Captain of the Foxes, and mounting his horse he started for his ranch out among the chaparrals, But there was something afoot that might thwart the game of the outlaw chief. This was the movements of those who had been with the Bilberry wagon-train. When Texas Thad, his brother scouts, the major and the two boys saw that they might as well attempt to capture the wind as Monte Max, for he was the fugitive who had fled when Jose and Juan fell under the shots of Buck and Bud, they returned to the train. Then it was that they all discovered their mis- take in leaving it, for Marm Bilberry had found her tongue and quickly told how Dolores Dave- nant had been captured by a masked horseman. The two daughters had a grieved look, as though they felt slighted at the bandits having left them; but Texas Thad and his two com- panions at ouce drew apart to have a talk. Each one of the three, the mother and her two daughters, as well as Cudge, were question- ed as to the horseman. . Cudge was too frightened to know anything, but the girls remembered much about the masked horseman and described him. Then they pointed out the direction he had taken, and Prairie Pink said: Pards, we must take his trail sure as at “Tm with yer, tooth an’ toe-nail,” re- sponded Butteraut aoe ‘An’ I’m along you bet, for ther major kin hustle along inter San Antonio now ’ithout no guide, fer he’s got a pertecter in them two boys, ** We'll scoop a hole fer ther carkisses 0’ them dead Greasers, pards, start ther train San An- toniowards and then we'll strike ther trail 0’ that devil as hes got ther purtiest gal in Texas in his claws,” and Texas Thad spoke with a ve- hemence that showed his deadly earnestness. Half an hour after the Bilberry train had pulled out from the scene of attack; on its way to San Antonio, and the three scouts, having buried the two dead Mexicans, started off on the trail of Quevedo and his beautiful captive. s Slowly but surely they tracked the bandit sy LE LL LLL LL LLL LLL LDL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL ALLL LLL Cet tt LL tt, a? 2 chief, until they came to his ranch in the chap- arrals, But Dolores was not there, and Valas told them that she had left for San Antonio half an hour ago with his master. This was true, for the bandit chief, true to his word, had ridden out to the ranch after the young girl, having searched for her pleasant quarters in town. He went along at a slow pace, and Dolores had perfect trust in his honesty, though still he wore his mask. Just, however, as he neared the point where he purposed turning off the trail to the southwest he was startled by the sudden appearance of two horsemen riding rapidly along on the trail toward San Antonio. Before Quevedo had time to decide on the course that was best for him to pursue the order to halt came in a clear and decided tone. Even at a distance bis character and object had been recognized by the approaching equestrians. The only safety now was in flight, he well knew, masked as he was, Wheeling suddenly, according to his original purpose, the bandit chief drove deep bis spurs; but at that moment a flasb, followed by the re- port of a rifle, varied the scene, and the noble steed of the outlaw, plunged upward madly and then rolled over on the ground, Extricating himself from the animal, Quevedo drew his pistol, but, ere he could take aim, a second shot met its mark in bis breast, and Antonio geet the Captain of the Foxes of the Frio, had gone to bis last account. As he raised the fainting form of the captive maiden from the sward on which she lay, the first of the two horsemen, who had dismounted for that purpose, caught a glance at the pale face partly vailed by the rich wealth of her un- confused hair. ‘* Thank God!” he exclaimed. ‘‘ It is she— Dolores Davenant !” A few minutes later a party of three men came along. They were Texas Thad, followed by his pards, Butternut Ben and Prairie Pink. he horsemen who had rescued Dolores were Vivian Fairfax and his guide, who had followed the trail from Indianola, CHAPTER XXXVITI, DOUBLE RETRIBUTION. Enpicort, efter his cowardly flight from Dolores, returned to San Antonio and kept his room at the hotel forsome time. Determined to leave town, however, he at last descended to the office, and taking care this time to go armed, the first person whom he encountered was the man who he thought had betrayed him—the Creole, Monte Max had been told, a few minutes pre- vious, that Endicott had not returned to the hotel, and had at once decided in his own mind that the Bostonian had not deemed it safe to re- turn; he, therefore, without much trepidation sought that popular hostelry on business of his own. The greeting of Endicott to his Creole friend could not be said to be wanting in warmth. ‘* Traitor;}” be hissed. Monte Max did not contradict him, He re- plied by merely drawing his pistol. Endicott was not slow in following suit, and before the movements of ‘the two men had at- tracted any great attention, several shots had been exchanged, the proximity of the parties and the excitement of both preventing at the first any serious consequences. By the time, however, that any practical in- terference had been exerted, the combatants were past doing any more harm to themselves or others. | Monte Max lay upon the floor, apparently al- ready dead; while a couple of Endicott’s hotel acquaintances supported the latter to a lounge. twas now dusk in the office, and the noise and bustle had attracted several frcm their rooms as well as from the street, Among the former was a young man who had arrived a few hours before, and having regis- tered and been assigned to his room, had re- mained there until the first report of the pistols brought him precipitately upon the scene, The now chaatly ace of the wounded and bleeding Endicott seemed to charm the gaze of the stranger. He said nothing, but stood a few ces from the man on the lounge, watching im intently. moned, and, having made an examination, had glanced around, merely shaking his head. This was no sealed verdict. All present, in- cluding the wounded man, saw and read it, The eyes of Endicott searched the spacious apartment, and at last rested upon the face of the stranger. The latter now came up to the side of the couch and spoke. It was but to call a name- ** Harry Hatrick !” The dying man started. ~ **T am not—yes, I was!” he said, excitedly. ** But you—who are you?” “Tam Vivian Fairfax !” *T am glad!” exclaimed Endicott. ‘* You may not believe me, but I am. J am glad to e then clesed his eyes, amd remained for some time silent. Rs eo A surgeon had been hastily sum-. => * Vivian Fairfax did not withdraw his gaze from his dying enemy for a moment. Presently, James Endicott spoke again. **T know what you would say to me, Fairfax,” he whispered. ‘I know all the reproaches and the curses you would cast upon me were I not aslam. But I am here, and you know—” ** That you are dying,” said Vivian. ‘* Dying, yes; and it is best, perbaps—best for Dolores Davyenant, for all will now be hers— best, too, fur Some one else. *T know whom you would speak of, Fairfax. Name her, man! Don’t be afraid. It is only I who should be afraid of speaking her name.” ‘*You are right,” answered Vivian, sternly. ‘It is Rosalind. It is on her account that I am here, It isof her that I would compel you to speak while space is left you—of her whom you have wronged !* ‘““Wronged? Yes. But net as you have sup- posed ez as I would have wrenged one whom loved as I never loved little Rose.” **Do not dare tospeak of her in that way!” exclaimed Fairfax, fiercely. “Why not?’ asked Endicott, with something of his old spirit; ‘‘ why not? She is my wife!” * Your wife ?” ‘*'Yes, and has been so since the evening that she left her home on the Hudson, Poor Rose! Sbe has had enough to complain of; but she is my wife, and I have never had another.” **Thank God!” Just this ejaculation and Vivian Fairfax knelt by the side of the man whose life he had sought. ** Tell her,” said Endicott, in a low voice; ** but no! Tell her nothing. She will care only to hear thatI am dead. Tell Dolly Davenant that I confess to all that she may hear—yes, and more! She cannot hate me worse than she does when she knows all, ‘**T compassed the death of her brother, Dare Davenant—I am his murderer !” ** Dare Davenant !” exclaimed the clerk at the desk, ‘I havea telegram from a Dare Daven- ant securing rooms for himself and a lady with ber maid. The lady is Miss St. Evremont, the actress.” The dying man actually smiled his gratitude. “Then it is not so bad after all,” he said. ‘“* Listen, Vivian,” and Fairfax bent lower, ** Rose St. Evremort is my wife und your sister Rosalind !” dust then Maximo Legere revived for the mo- ment; but it was only the last flicker of the can- dle in the socket. His glance sought that of his recent antagonist; and with an effort he spoke, The words sounded strangely at such a time. ‘It was a desperate game, Endicott: but I thought we held the cards, The scouts were the nba however, not I; and they took the ck.” ‘“*T am glad of it now,” said the poor stranded — wreck of humanity, in a firm voice, With a wretched attempt at wit that was ghastly in the extreme, Monte Max sneered: ** You were eachered, old man!” “Yes,” said Endicott, quietly, “but it was a > game of cut-throat eucher,” came the hoarse re- sponse, and almost with the words, James Endi- cott breathed bis last. CHAPTER XXXVIII, FLOOD TIDE. RosE Enpicotr bore with her to the distant North the remains of the man of whom it might. be truly said that, ‘‘ nothing in life became him like the leaving of it.” Thereshe laid him to rest with his ancestors, and knelt forgivingly over the grave of him who had made such a sad — shipwreck of his life amd came so near wrecking — ers. In time she became the loved and loving wife of Dare Davenant, and the memory of James Endicott is now but that of a troubled dream. The home of the Fairfaxes is bright, far more so than ever of yore. Happy and handsome children call Vivian father, and no prouder wife and mother can be found in any of the stately mansions on the glorious Hudson—as there is none happier or more beautiful—than — Mrs, Vivian Fairfax, whom we have known as Dolly Davenant. Thus far neither Dare nor Vivian have revisit- ed the Lone Star State, though their respective wives frequently express a resolution some day to do so, But they keep up a frieudly corre- spondence with the friends whom they made while there, and Dolly Feirfax is seldom better _ pleased than when she has received tidings of © the welfare of her quaint benefactors, the scouts, ig : who, in turn, cherish for her the warmest feelings | . of regard. Marm Carraway and even the Bilberrys are not forgotten; and it is gratifying to know that its—have yet achieved the great desire of their hearts as well as of their mother’s, that Buck and Ben bid fair to fulfill the prom- ise of their youth, and have developed into brave and hardy young rancheros, But fonder memories will ever cluster around Texas Thad and his pards, who are still on the trail; and many blessings go up daily from grateful and pure hearts, calling down, we trust, others in abundance upon them. ie END. Eomichbooks Se a ig > igi - os ee ¥ lee > ae ay SN the young ladies—though not “‘captivated” by ban = - eS 5 CS