Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 66 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

——_—_— Seer * What then?”’ ‘* Their sweetheart’s, stupid.” ‘** But they're going, too.” “So you say and so it may be, But not before another event takes place—one that may embarrass —perhaps delay their departure.” A ‘Amigo, you talk enigmatically. Will you oblige me by speaking a little plainer?” **T will; but wait till we've had our chocolate and after it a glass of Catalan. I need a little alcohol to ret my brain in working order, for there’s work for ittodo. Enough now to tell you that I’ve had a revela- tion. A good angel, or it may be a devil, has visited me and given it. <A vision that shows me at the pn time riches and revenge, pointing straight to both.” ‘* Has this vision shown that I’m to be a sharer?” “Tt has; and you shall be. But only in proportion as you shall prove yourself worthy.” ; “Currvambo! Vii do my best. ‘I have the will, if you'll instruct me in the way.” “Tl do all that. But, I warn you, it'll need more than will—strength, secrecy, determination—” “* A qué esta senores.” The conversation is interrupted by the servant bringing in the ** desayuna.” CHAPTER XXXIV. AN HYPOTHECATED HOUSE. A Few moments suffice for the light matutinal re- rast. . After which a decanter of Catalonian brandy and glasses are brought upon the table, with a bundle of Manilla cigars, size No. 1. While the glasses are being filled, and the cigars lighted, there is silence. , hen the host of the house calls upon his guest to impart the particulars of that visionary revelation, which promises to make both rich, at the same time giving them revenge. Taking a gulp from his glass, and a ig or two at his cigar, De Lara responds to the call. Leaning across the table and looking his confede- rate in the face, he just asks: ** Are you a bankrupt, Faustino Calderon?” “You know I am, Francisco De Lara. Why do you put the question?” : ‘** Because I want to be sure, before making known to you the scheme I’ve hinted at. As I’ve told you, I'm after no child’s play. Iask you again, are you a bankrupt?” “And I answer you,I am. But what has that to do with it?” “A good deal. You assure me of it?” “Ido. I’m as pooras yourself, if not poorer, after last night’s losses. I'd embarked all my money in the monte concern,” “But you have something besides money—this house and your land?”’ ‘*Mortgaged months ago- UD to the eyes, the ears, the crown of the head. at’s where the cash came from to set up the bank that’s broken, breaking me along with it.” * And you've nothing left—no chance for starting it again?’ **Not aclaco. Here I am apparently in my own house, with servants, such as they are, around me. It’s all in appearance. In reality ['m not the owner. I once was, as my dead father before me; but can’t claim to be any longer. Even while we are here, drinking this Catalan, the ae ee—that ; old usurer, Martinez—may step in and kick us out.’ ‘* Qurajo! Vd like him to try. He’d catch the devil if he attempted to kick me out, or anybody else, just now in my present humor. There’s more fear of our being pulled out, And for that reason we haven’t much time to stay talking. Let's come to the point at once—back to where we left off. On your oath, Faustino Calderon, you're no longer a man of money?” : ‘“On my oath, Francisco De Lara,I haven't an onza left—no, not even a peso.” ‘“Pnough. Now that I know your financial status, we can understand one another, and without further circumloeution I shall make you a sharer of the bright thought that has flashed across my brain. It will be for you to say whether you _wis to take a share in the action to result from it.’ ‘** Let me hear what it is.” . ‘‘Not so fast, Faustino. As I’ve already twice said, it’s no child’s play. But a business that needs nerve and boldness. Above all, fidelity among those who may engage in it; for more than two will be needed. It wants atleast four. I know three who will do. About the fourth I’m not so certain. “Who are the three?” “Francisco De Lara, Manuel Lozada, and Rafael Rocas.” meets “ And the fourth, about whom you are dubious! * Faustino Calderon.” ‘ “A ‘Why do you doubt me, De Lara?” “Don't call it doubting. I only say I'm not certain about you.” “3 *“ But for what reason? “ Because you may be squeamish or get seared. Not that there’s much danger, and there mayn’t be any, if the thing’s cleverly managed, But there nuust be no bungling, and above all no backing out— no treason, The last is the only real danger. All the rest will be safe and simple enough. ; “ Can’t you trust me, so far as to give me a hint of your scheme? As to my being squeamish, I think, ‘De Lara, you do me a wrong. The last forty-eight hours have made some inroads upon my conscience. A man who has lost his all, and suddenly sees him- self a beggar, isn’t disposed to be very sensitive. Come, camarado/ Tell me, and try me. “T intend doing both, but not now. Itisa matter that calls for formalities; among them, some swear- ine. All who embark in it must be bound by a solemn oath. It will be time enough then for you to know what I’m aiming at. Now, I can only say that, if the scheme succeeds, two things are sure, and both concern yourself, Faustino Calderon. ‘What are they? You can confide that much to me?” . “Certainly, I can, and shall. The first is that vyowll be a richer man than you've ever been; at lenst since I’ve had the honor of your acquaintance; the second, that Don Gregorio Montijo will not leave California, at Jeast not quite so soon, nor altogether in the way he is wishing. You may have plenty of Never mind, You ave one? The Specter Barque. time yet, and opportunities as well, to press your suit with Inez Alvarez.” “ Carrambo! Secure me that, and I swear—” * You needn't set about swearing just yet. You can do that when it comes to the occasion. Till then I can take your word. With one in love, as you be- lieve yourself, that should be binding as any oath; especially when it promises such a rich reward.” ** You're sure about Lozada and Rocas?” ‘* Quite so. With them there won’t be need for any prolonged conference. When a man sees the chance of getting sixty thousand dollars, in a lump sum, right down in gold-dust, he'll be pretty sure to act romptly, and won't be particular as to the means »y which it’s to be obtained.” s hy thousand dollars! That to be the share of each?” ‘That and more, maybe.”’ “Why, it makes one mad to think of such a sum. “Don’t go mad till you've got it. may.” “Tf I do, *twill be with joy.” * Well, it won't be with grief; not likely, since it will give you afresh lease of sweet life, and renew your hopes of having Inez. Vamonos/ we must get away from here, for two reasons: First, because we're in danger of being taken away by some one coming for us. Though, after all, there’s nothing to apprehend yet. The gringos must have gone aboard their ship, and are not ap aieg to be ashore again before breakfast. They were both well sprung with champagne, and _ it will take them some time to rub the gout out of their eyes, after waking up. Be- sides, there'd be all the business in town ooking up warrants, and the like, They do such things rather slowly in San Francisco, Then there’s the ten miles out here, No; we needn't be in a hurry, so far as that goes. But the other’s a thing that won't keep, and we must at once set about it. Fortunately the road that takes us to a place of concealment is the same we'll have to travel upon business. We must get to the ranch of Rocas, where we'll be sure to find Lozada, The two are hardly apart, We'll be safer there than anywhere else I can think.of. We may stay with old Rafael, till this ugly wind blows by. In a week, it'll be all over. If not, we must keep out of sight a little longer, or leave San Fran- cisco for good.” **T hope we'll not be forced to that, I shouldn't at all like it.”’ * Like it or not, you may have to lump it. What does it signify where a man lives, so long as he’s got sixty thousand dollars in his pocket?”’ ‘True; that ought to make any place pleasant.” ** Well, you'll have that; but not if we stay palaver- ing here. Let us be gone!” A shout from Calderon summons a muchacho, who is directed to order round the horses, These soon appear in front, under the guidance of the ragged grooms; who, after delivering them to their masters, see the latter mount and ride off, they know not whither, Neither do they care, so long as they are themselves left to idleness, with prijotes, tortillas, tasajo, and monte. oon they too disappear inside the patio, and the A pape wor house resumes its wonted look of deso- ation, Then you CHAPTER XXXV. THE LAST LOOK. **Up anchor!” The order rings along the decks of the Crusader, and the watch stand by the windlass to execute it. It is the day pi etcnapar | that spent by Crozier and Cadwallader ashore. These, turning out of their cots to attend to duty, are surprised at hearing that the ship is to sail at noon. Others aboard share their surprise—all who have not heard the reason for such hasty departure. They were expecting it, but not that day. It soon becomes known in the OB HEEs and thence spreads over the e's A corvette coming in the evening before has brought dispatches from the flag-ship of the Pacific squadron. Among them or- ders for the Crusader to set sail for the Sandwich Islands, without an hour's delay. Some question with King Kamekameha, The corvette is to replace the frigate on the San Francisco station; for the Crusader is a frigate. The dispatch-bearer has also brought a mail; and the Crusader’s officers get letters; some of the sailors as well; home news welcome to those who have been long away from their nativeland. For the ship has been three years cruising in the South seas. Something more than news several officers receive. In large envelopes addressed to them are inclosed documents hearing an official seal. Commissions giving them promotion. Among the rest one reaches Crozier, advancing him a step in rank. His ability as an officer has been reported at head-quarters, as also his gallant conduct in rescuing a sailor from drowning—Harry Blew. In all probability the latter deed has led to his promotion; but whatever the cause, he is leaving San Francisco a lieutenant, Such a high grade at his age should make him wed me joyful. ie is neither one nor the other. On the contrary as the sails are spread and the frigate stands out of the harbor, there is a cloud upon his brow that speaks of unpleasant recollections. Nor has it passed away as, running through the straits of the Golden Gate, the wide bright ocean opens to his view. He is not the only officer on the Crusader whose countenance is thus shadowed. Beside him is one who seems to suffer as himself—one rarely other- wise than cheerful. It is his friend, Cadwallader. More reason has Willie to be woeful, for the cor- vette has brought no promotion for him, and he still remains a “ midshipmite.” It is not that which is making him low-spirited. What theny The thought of parting with his sweetheart—now flancee ? Nor can it be this. He bade adien to her the day before, and Jaughed at leaving her, No need for being sad after those sweet sworn vows of fidelity, coupled with the certainty of soon seeing her again, Why should he be so? And why the new-made lieutenant chagrin, as to all appearance he does? Is it at being deprived of the chance to fight a duel, -has listened to the explanation, 17 and fear of disgrace for not being on the spot to re- ceive the expected challenges? No more of that now. The latest episode of last mighe has wiped out all scores that might have re- uired settling according to the code of honor. nownh assassins are not likely to show themselves as challengers; and if their intended victims give a thought to them, it is ore regret at not having an Cree of bringing them to justice, Why, then, are the young oflicers low-spirited, distraught? The answer can be had by listening to their con- versation; as they stand in the ship’s stern, looking their last upon a land that for a time must be dear to them, Itis after the Crusader has cleared the Golden cae and is running under the lee of the Farral- ones, Their eyes are upon a hill fast sinking into the sea; its summit a spot sacred to both as the place of their birth. It is that, standing on which but the day be- fore co felt as if in heaven. Why do they not feel joy in again beholding it? Crozier gives the answer in a speech of twenty words, or rather a soliloquy uttered aloud. ‘**Carmen Montijoy! to think a common gambler snould be acquainted with her—presume to speak with—to love her—oh, God!”’ “Worse than gamblers,’’ adds Cadwallader, equal- ly concerned in the subject of the soliloquy; “ assas- sins if they’d had success,” “ Bverything that’s vile and vulgar. Don’t it make you mad to think of it, Will? 1t does me.” “Well, not mad; that’s not the feeling Ihave. I'm only afraid—"’ * Afraid! of what?”’ “That the fellows may do some harm to our girls. As we know now, the scoundrels may be up to any- thing. Since they don’t stick at auabuat eh iior: they won't at. abduction, I hope your letter to Don Gre- rio will open his eyes about them, and put him on is guard. My dear Inez—who's to protect her? I'd ve all I’ve got to have seen her sate into that ship. ‘here we may feel sure that Harry Blew will take care of them both,” Cadwallader’s words seem greatly to affect his companion, changing the expression upon his coun- tenance. . It is still shadowec , but the cloud shows a different meaning. It was before chagrin, anger, or some passion akin; it is now more of anxiety, “You've struck a chord, Cad, that gives me pain. Thadn’t thought of that, and it mightn’t have eceur- redto me. My mind has been all occupied with the other thing—you understand?” “IT do, Ned. At the same time, I think you make too much of the other thing, as you call it. I confess it troubled me at first, though not a very great deal; now it don’tatall. On reflection, there’s nothing to be bothered about. They say it’s a common thing among Spanish Americans, where customs are alto- gether unlike our own, to have professional gamblers going into the best society. Besides, I can tell you what may comfort you a little—a bit of information I got from Inez, as we were pluticendo along the road. It was natural something shculd be said SLO Sky-Blue, and my sticking his horse in the Lip. R What did she say about him?’ asks Crozier, with evident interest. z t he was a gentleman by birth, but falling fast, and now quite fallen.” ‘*And De Lara—did she speak of him?” * She did, still more disparagingly, though of him she knew less. She only said that he had been in- troduced to her grandfather and the family, and was accustomed to meet them on occasions. Of late they had learnt more of him, and learning this, her aunt—your Carmen—very much deatred to cut the acquaintance, They intended doing it even if they had remained in California, Now that they were alge there would be the less difficulty.” Crozier, w th eyes earnestly bent upon the sary ih At its close he cries out, grasping. Cadwallader by the hand: “Will! you've lifted a load from heart. Ican now look at the summit of yonder hill with pleasure and feel the truth and power of Campbell's splendid 1 ° *“*A kiss can consecrate the ground Where mated hearts are mutual bound; The spot, where love's first links are wound, That ne’er are riven, Is hallowed down to earth’s profound, . And up to heaven,’ ” After repeals the passionate words, he stands gazing on the spot so consecrated to him. Cadwallader’s eyes, with equal interest, are turned in the same direction, For a time both are silent, absorbed in sweet thoughts. O epeoae the land looms low along the horizon, and the crest of the Coast Range appears but the eons of a cloud, does the shadow return to their aces, Then on Crozier’s, as already on that of Cadwalla- der: it isnot anger—not the rancor of jealousy— but fear for those left behind. The only relief to it is their reliance on the brave Harry Blew. In him is their hope. CHAPTER XXXVI, A SOLEMN COMPACT, A corrage of the old Californian kind—in other rene. f the eure f these hymbl gs— ne of the ru i) ese humble dwellin the homes of the Spanish-American poor. It is a mere mud hut, thatched with a sort of sea- shore grass, the “ broombent”’ seen growing on some sand dunes near by. For it is beside the sea, within sight of it, itself unconspicuous by reason of rocks that cluster around and soar up behind, forming a rugzed background, in keeping with the aspect of the tes ; From the land side it is only approachable by de- vious and difficult paths known to a few intimate friends of the owner, From the sea equally difficult, A little cove lead- ing up to it has not depth enough to admit the en- trance of a boat; but for a stream trickling seaward, that has wed out a tiny channel in the strand, That through this a boat can enter the little ba ry is evident from the fact of one seen moored near its bottom, in front of, and not far from the hovel. It is a craft of the kind generally used Ly Califor- <af (E S) JOOKS:. Cor =e fe —