THE FLIGHT.
The third night after the departure of the vigilantes rolled around,
and the settlers in the valley were becoming anxious regarding their
friends, for no word had come from them since they struck the bandits’
trail. Mary Hale’s beautiful eyes were dimmed with tears as she bade
her father good night, for she dreaded evil to Captain Dash, whom she
loved with all the fervor of her heart.
Hardly had she reached her room, when there was a loud knock upon the
hall door of the cabin, and Judge Hale called out:
“Well, what is it?”
“News from the vigilantes, judge,” said a voice, outside.
“Who are you?”
“Martin Burke.”
“Ah! one moment, Burke, and I will let you in,” answered the judge,
recognizing, as he believed, the voice of a settler down the valley.
The door swung open. Then there came a flash, and, a cry upon his lips,
Judge Hale fell to the floor, while three men sprang over his body into
the hall. Those three were Kent King, Mathew Kingsland, and Mendez, the
Mexican.
“This is her room, Kent; come!” cried the old villain.
With one kick he drove in the door, and the three dashed through
into the comfortable chamber, which the taste of Mary had made most
beautiful and comfortable. But they suddenly stopped, for in the center
of the room stood the brave girl, her face pale, her eyes flashing, her
hand extended and holding a revolver.
“Back, or I will kill you,” she said firmly.
“Bah, she’s but a girl; come!” cried Kent King, and the three sprang
forward.
But the flash and report came, and the bullet, speeding by the ear of
Kent King, buried itself in the brain of Mendez, the Mexican, who fell
dead in his tracks. Before Mary could again fire, she was seized in
the strong arms of Kent King, her cries were checked, and she became
unconscious.
When at last she recovered her senses, she found herself held in the
arms of a man whose face she saw distinctly. It was Kent King, and
she was held across the saddle before him. His horse was going at a
rapid gallop. Ahead was another horseman, whom she knew must be Mathew
Kingsland, the pretended Parson Miller.
Feigning unconsciousness, she remained quiet, and heard their
conversation, for the man ahead soon dropped back and rode alongside,
remarking, as he did so:
“I am not sorry she killed the Mexican, as he would have continually
bled us.”
“Yes; I promised him a reward for his services, and my sweet Cousin
Mary gave it to him; only it was lead instead of gold,” laughed Kent
King.
“You think no one heard the shot and will pursue?”
“My reverend father, pistol shots are too common to attract much
attention out here; but if we are pursued, it will be by a few decrepit
old men and young boys, for all the fighters are out in the mountains
after me. They will return to-morrow or next day victorious, in all
save my capture; ha, ha, ha!”
“You are a very devil, Kenton!”
“I am my father’s son; but have you the relays of horses all right?”
“Yes, Mendez and myself placed them. The first relay is five miles from
here, so we can urge these on faster.”
“I wish Mary would recover, so I could force her to ride. Then we could
dash rapidly along. As it is, her weight retards my horse.”
“She certainly remains in a swoon long, Kenton.”
“Oh! it won’t hurt her, and being unconscious is better than hysterics
or shrieks.”
“You will find her a hard one to tame, my son.”
“I think not; I have ever been noted as a woman tamer; but as I intend
to reform now, and she gets a large fortune, and we go to Europe, I
hope she will be sensible. If not, she seals her own fate, as soon as I
get her money into my hands.”
“I am sorry you shot her father, Kenton.”
“Bah! regret nothing, my honored parent. If I allowed myself to regret
the past, I should have troops of phantoms haunting me day and night.
Hello! Mary is recovering.”
“Fiend! murderer! release me!” groaned the poor girl, almost
broken-hearted at the fate of her father.
“No, Cousin Mary, I cannot think of such a thing. Keep quiet, and I
will not harm you, but if you cry out, I will gag and bind you.”
“Oh, God, have mercy upon me!” cried Mary.
“Cousin mine, that prayer is more frequent on the lips of men and women
than any other, and it is less answered,” sneered Kent King.
Then, grasping her more firmly in his arms, he urged his horse on at a
more rapid pace. Before long they came to a secluded spot, a ravine, in
which stood three horses, and by one a sidesaddle.
“Now, my sweet cousin, if you will go willingly I will let you ride; if
not, I will carry you,” said Kent King.
“I will ride, if I must; anything to escape your loathsome touch.”
“So be it; father, please saddle that white steed for my cousin, and
then change our saddles.”
“And what must we do with these horses?” asked the man, turning to
those they had just ridden to the spot.
“Draw your knife across their throats.”
“What!”
“Of course, for it will keep pursuers from following on them; why do
you hesitate to kill a brute, when you have taken human life?”
“Boy, don’t call up that phantom from the past!” sternly said the older
villain.
“Bah, don’t be a child; don’t let the ‘boy be father to the man’; come,
now, my sweet cousin!”
He raised the girl to her saddle, but securely held the reins, while
his father drew his knife across the throats of the two noble animals
that had brought them there.
“You have those papers with you, old man, that give this fortune to
Mary?”
“Yes.”
“Be certain, for I want no mistake.”
“I have them here in my pocket.”
“All right; come!” and at once the two villains set off at a rapid
pace, their unfortunate captive between them.
But hardly had they disappeared from sight, when a dark form arose from
behind a rock and muttered:
“I am glad I hid here to see who came for those horses; now to head
them off.”
Darting through the thicket, the speaker soon came to where a horse
stood awaiting him, and five minutes after he was riding swiftly along
a rough trail leading up the valley.