Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 513 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

_ aed the lonely man stood and communed with his thoughts and brooded over the past, the present and the future, He was well known’ at Powderhorn Mile, as the village a bundred yards away was called, and every one had a good word for him. He was known as Grizzly George, and was a vet- eran hunter, scout and guide, In his day be had wandered over most of the West, but when old age came upon him, he had located at Pow- derhorn Mile, regarding it as about the wildest of Wild West towns, aud had hoped to pass the remainder of his days in peace and quiet. No such thoughts were in his mind that eve- ning, and the reason was as simple as it was terrible. Gis hopes, his heart, almost his life, lay buried in the grave before him. cently made as was the grave, a wooden head-piece bad already been erected, and rudely cut in the surface was the simple inscription: rT; Eve, Aged 18.” Brief as it was, a whole volume lay in the in- scription. It was a history of sorrow, death and despair, with enough of mystery to make an element of doubt and uncertainty. Grizzly George slowly brushed his rough hand across his eyes. ‘*This is the end o’ all!” he muttered. ‘* The parson said so, an’ he was right. It is the end o’ more than my poor gal’s life; it is the end o’ my hopes. What did the parson say about findin’ consolation in prayer? reckon he didn’t jest know old George Hendricks, and he sartainly didn’t know her. The end o’all? Not much! One thing ain’t reached a beginnin’, yit, but it will, right soon. Its name is vengeance |” His grim face grew dark and threatening, ee ‘ raised one hand aloft, but let it fall slowly. ‘* No, thar ain’t no need on’t. Let them who are less in ’arnest than me make theater work o’ what they have ter say; Pll not talk, but act /” He cast one more look at the grave, and then turned and walked away resolutely. There was something very striking in the man’s sorrow avd despair. He was outwardly controlling his emotions well, but it was plain that he was severely shaken, and be was a man who felt keenly at all times. Unless he was ut- terly indifferent in regard to any matter, he had a strong opinion, and it was so with his likes and his dislikes. He loved and hated with in- tense feeling. His course took him along the edge of the vil- lage, and at one point he paused and looked at the largest, finest house of which Powderhorn Mile could boast. ** How different it is thar!” he muttered. “I have buried my dead, but in the big house they are preparin’ fur the weddin’, I don’t s’pose Norma Westerley gives a thought ter my poor gal, though they do say she ain’t hard-hearted, ef she is rich. I hope she’ll be bappy, an’ I reck- on she will, fur Robert Kendall is a right nice young feller. He was always pleasant when he come ter my house, an’ Eve liked him, too, But it seems sort o’ wrong fur them ter marry when the sods in the graveyard are only jest turned fur one who was as good as any woman in the town.” % Shaking his head, he again walked on toward ome, Powderhorn Mile was one of the most north- erly towns in the United States, It lay so close to the British Possessions that the little lake u on whose shore the village was built was nearly one-half north of the line. This sheet of water was known as Rifle Lake, and it was partly this, and partly its own pecu- liar shape, which had given the village its name. The lake was surrounded with hills, and as the land suitable for building was only a narrow strip, the houses erected one by one had followed the curving side of the lake—hence, the name, Powderhorn Mile, Mining and agriculture flourished alike among the inhabitants, and if the former industry claimed the majority among its followers, the miners could say that they were making the mostmoney. That they were doing remarkably well could not be added, for Powderhorn Mile was not rich in auriferous soil. Grizzly George went on to his home, which was the most northerly of any house there. It was a lonely home, now, and he realized the fact painfully when he entered the door. There was no one to greet him, and his strong hand trem- bled as, shrinking from the growing shadows, he struck a light. All the things around him had hitherto been sanctified by the care, presence and touch of one he loved, and bis heart grew still heavier as he thought of this. Tooking eee ahead, he advanced to set the lamp on the table. A surprise awaited him there. Upon the table lay a sealed envelope—sometbing very rare in that houss—and he tock it up with a puzzled air. “*D’rected ter me. Yes; hya™’s the name, plain enough—George Hendricks. That’s me, though I skeercely recognize it in that form. Who’s writ fer me? Can’t imagine, nohow. *Tain’t a common thing.” Texas Tartar. He turned the letter over and over in growing “Tell be a dark weddin’ night,” he muttered. curiosity, and it was some little time before tne | “ I’m £ bit sorry fur Norma Westerley, but I tdoi idea entered his slow mind that the explanation could probably be found inside. Then be opened the envelope. He was not much of a scholar, but he found no trouble in reading the very distinct lines on the single page. They were as follows: “*GriIzzLy GEORGE:— ‘‘in the hour of your sorrow forget not her who will be the lizht of your bome no more. Eve Hen- dricks is only a memory, now, but her memory is sacred. She had no enemy among the worthy citi- zens of Powderhorn Mile, and nothing but good can be sa d of her.- Yet, it is known that some man won her affections and then, proving faithless, threw the tréasure away. You know the result—your daugh- ter has met the end of a suicide, if appearances are reliable. “You say that youdo not know the man ee whom she so unwisely, unhappily fixed her affec- tions. Are you blind, Grizzly George? Whom did you often receive asa trusted guest in the past? Who came often to your cabin? Who showed such a ‘brotherly’ liking for Eve? Who was the male companion she liked best? Are you blind, Grizzly Georze? ‘To day, your daughter will be consigned to her last home; to-night, there will be a grand weddin at the \esterley house, Norma, the beautiful an rich. will trust her future to Robert Kendall. Pray heaven she may not fare as badly as one other who did that thing, for, as sure as you are living, George Hendricks, the faithless lover of your lost Eve was Robert Kendall. Consider the past, and see if you do not find confirmation of the revelation of ‘*A FRIEND.” Hendricks read eagerly, and as fast as he was able, and his excitement increased every mo- ment. But by accident or design the letter was so constructed that bis feelings were worked upon to the utmost, and the revelation at the end fell when he was in a mood far fron calm. The letter dropped from his relaxed fingers. ** Robert Kendall!” he uttered, m a whisper, Slowly he raised one hand to his head. He was dazed, and bis very expression was uncon- sciously tragic. He looked blankly at vacancy, and could not fully comprehend. is indecision was painful, and it soon found utterance in words. ‘* Who did it say?” He picked up the paper and read the last lines again, ‘* Robert Kendall!” he reiterated, and then a flush rose to his vale cheeks. ‘‘ Him /—the man I received bhyar asan honored guest! He the one! Why, be was my friend, an’ Eve’s. Eve's! Yes, yes; that’s what the letter says, an’ I see it now. Whoelse so likely ter be the one as him? I knowed he an’ Eve liked each other. An’ so he’s the one that won her love an’ desarted her, drivin’ her to suicide!” The bereaved man drew a quick, sharp breath. His reasoning faculties were benumbed by prior events, but he was slowly working his way to light, and full comprehension bade fair to bring a 3 consequences with it,’ **T didn’t think ito’ him. I trusted him, an" thoughe him a fine young feller, an’ what bas he done?” Deeper grew the flush in the speaker’s face, and the flash of his eyes foreboded a storm. ‘*He drove her to death—my Eve; the only one I had ter care fur me; the staff o’ my o age. She lies in the graveyard now, an’ he—he will marry another girl ter-nigbt!” Grizzly George crushed the letter in his big hand and flung it far away. ‘** Will he?’ cried the old man, all bis anger surging into action at once. ‘‘ Will he? I ain’t so sure o’ that. 1 said at the start that the man who bad played my Eve false should suffer, but I didn’t know then that ’twas a man I had open- ly received hyar asafriend. The Judas! The scoundrel!” Quick and unnatural was the borderman’s breathing, and his gaze wandered to the rifle which bung on the wall. His grim face grew darker, and he went forward and took the wea- pon down. It shook in his tremulous grasp per- ceptibly, but he did not heed the fact. ** Come hyar, old rifle; thar is more work fur you terdo. Youan’me have b’en on inany a trail tergether, an’ you never failed me yet, You won't fail me now. Ycu’ve brought down Injun an’ grizzly b’ar, an’ you won’t fail on a human traitor. So Robert Kendall would marry another gal, eh? Wal, wal, we'll see!”’ Sitting down, he held the rifle in his lap and engaged in thought for some time. He was an honest man, and his Jong career in the West had not been sullied by one act of which hea need be ashamed, but there was now that in his mind which transformed the man. If Grizzly George had his way, the wedding of the evening would end in a tragedy dark and terrible, While those in the big house of Pow- derhorn Mile were making preparations for a happy event, Hendricks was planning to send the groom of the evening out of the world for- ever, It required no great degree of planning. When all were assembled he could move quietly to a position near the house, and when he brought his unerring rifle to bear upon Robert Kendall, he was not likely to miss. site arose and began to clean the weapon care- y. | don’ tterinjure her. It’s bim who would marry her—the man who drove my gal ter death—that my vengeance is ag’in’, an’ that man will never sce another sunrise. 1’ll settle it with Robert Kendall, once an’ forever!” CHAPTER Il. TEXAS TARTAR GETS POINTS. NEAR the village a small structure stood on the shore of the lake which was dignified by tbe name of * boat-house.” Rude as it was the name could not be called a misnomer, for it was the headquarters of an honest wan who owned several boats, but the only way he could store them in the shanty was by strict economy of ter’ is dhere to it. room, At about the same time that Grizzly Gevree was leaving the graveyard, the owner of the boat-house sat in front of his nautical quarters, engaged in extracting comfort from a short, black pipe. He wasa man of middle age, and strong and heavy. His features were coarse and rugged, but his expression was good-humor- ed and contented. Footsteps caused him to turn, and he sawa good-looking stranger. This man came straight to the happy smoker. ** Good-evening, sir,” be said, courteously. ““T judge that you are the owner of these craft?” The speaker waved bis hand toward the half- dozen boats that rocked at the water's edge, ‘*T am that,” the boatman replied, ‘* And you are Mr, Purcell?’ “Tim Purcell is me name, but divil a ‘ Mis- An honest non don’t vade sich a handle, but whin Oi fall to hoss-st'alin’ or the loikes, Oi'll begin to fly me kite high, aw’ be a ‘ Mister,’” ** Just so, my friend. Well, on one are fully agreed—you own the boats, I hire you to take me out?” ‘*Out ave phat?” ** Out on the lake, for a row.” The boatman removed his pipe. ‘* You’re a stranger in Powderhorn Mile, eh?? ee Yes. »” ** B’en here long?” ‘* Five hours,” ‘Oi didn’t ketch yer name,” “Texas Tartar.” se Bb Yb ‘* My name is Texas Tartar.” ‘‘ Dhe Ould Nick it is! Phat’s the rest of it?” ‘‘There is no more, In our family we scorn the threadbare names of Tom, Dick and Harry, and all the rest; hence, my peculiar name. There is no more; no Smith, Joues or Schooper- havenhoffer—plain names like those would never fit the Tartar family.” Purcell looked curiously at the ker. Ec- centric men were not scarce in the West, and he had beard hard names claimed before, but Texas Tartar was well worth looking at. He was a Western sport. His garments, which were of fashionable cut, were made from English cloth, and were scrupu- lously neat. His boots were polished, and he wore immaculate collar and cuffs, while in the white expanse of sbirt-front below his neck was a glittering diamond. Two things, only, served to separate him, in looks, from the swell of Eastern cities. One was that be wore his jet- black bair very long; tne other was that a very business-looking revolver reposed in a visible position. His whole air was dashing, and if any one had been oe geek to consider him at all dandyish, one good look at his muscular form and keen, strong face would change the impression. “Wal,” returned Purcell, ‘ef Texas Tartar suits you fur a name, Oi’m sure I don’t kick.” ‘It suits me well, and so does my otber title. Some persons call me ‘ The Man with Nine Lives,’ ” ** Howly Pater! phat for?’ ** Recause I have the fabled nine lives of a cat. Ketch on, Timothy?” hee presume I do, You are hard ter kill, ens ‘ ‘Yes, and hard to keep killed, after being once sent over the range. But about our bcat- ride—do we go out, Timothy?” ‘‘ Dye moind that Oi axed yer name, a bit ago, an’ axed was yez a stranger byar?” “You did, certainly.” ~ ‘‘ Oi knowed you was a stranger.” ‘*How?” ‘‘ Nobody else w’u’d think ave goin’ out on de lake afther dark.” ‘“* How’s that, my friend?” ‘* Dhe Horned Fish would get yez.” » ‘*Hullo!. now you puzzle me. What the dickens is the Horned Fish?” ‘* Oi suspect ’tis de Ould Nick’s own chimmy; but naturalists an’ fleabogomists say it is a swordfish. I dunno,” ** ‘You puzzle me, Timothy. Explain!” ‘*For de last siv’ral months some sort av a demon has infested dhe lake. Previous to that dhe young p’aple used often ter go boating on dhe lake at night, an’ Oi have rowed out about ivery wan ave thim: but yez couldn’t hire a young leddy to make dhe thrip now. A demon appeared in dhe lake. Phat it is Oi dunno, int we ow, can "com is i cbooks.co — TOT a -