PLOTTING MISCHIEF.
Soon after the arrival of the train in the new settlement, the
peninsula began to present a far different scene. The settlers had
staked out their farms, chosen the sites of their cabin homes, and
pitched their tents, until their houses could be built.
No contention, no envy, existed among them; and the future promised
brightly, as the whole male force worked upon the stockade fort, which
was to be the common center of protection for all.
One day Major Belden and his troopers dashed into the new settlement
and was greeted with pleasure by all. The officer at once set his men
to work to aid in building the stockade, and by many acts of kindness
won the esteem of all the emigrants.
With this extra force the work went bravely on, and in a very short
time the walls of the stockade were up, and the large cabin fort was
complete.
Major Belden constantly haunted Sibyl Conrad with his presence.
The girl’s kindness toward him he construed into a reciprocity of
affection, and commenced building up hopes of making her his wife.
Whether Howard Lawrence had changed his love for Sibyl none knew, as
he was ever pleasant toward her; but certain it is that he appeared to
relinquish in favor of the major, and suddenly became devoted to Ruth.
The desolate cabin of Alfred Carter had become the home of Howard
Lawrence, with all its surroundings. The settlers had drawn lots for
its possession, and, having been the lucky winner, he had at once
installed himself in his new residence, at the same time intimating
that before long he hoped to have a housekeeper to look after his
affairs.
Thus passed the days at the peninsula settlement, or “Riverside,” as
the settlers had named it; and still Buffalo Bill was absent.
One evening, the day before the departure of Major Belden to the
fort--whither he had ordered Captain la Clyde, the morning after his
arrival in the settlement, that he might have no rivals in camp--the
young cavalry officer suddenly rode up, followed by half a dozen
dragoons.
“Well, Clyde, what news from the fort?” the major asked.
“Stirring times, major; and the general bids me tell you to report at
once, as he wants you to lead an expedition to the south.”
“Indeed! Well, we will depart to-night.”
“Pardon me, major, but General Canton has ordered me to remain at the
settlement until our friends have their cabins built and crops in, and
I am to retain command of twenty of your men.”
Major Belden frowned visibly at this news, and compressed his lips as
though in anger; but he said nothing, and walked off in search of Sibyl
Conrad. He soon found her seated upon the river bank, a book in one
hand, a fishing rod in the other.
“Well, Miss Sibyl, seeking food for both body and mind, I see,” he
remarked pleasantly, as he walked up.
“Yes, sir; and both are the most agreeable occupations I could be
engaged in.”
“I thought that you might be at least glad to see me, as I leave you
to-morrow, or rather to-night, having been ordered to the fort to
command a most dangerous expedition.”
As he said this, the officer gazed down into the beautiful face to mark
the effect of his words.
But Sibyl quietly replied:
“It is the glory of a soldier’s life to participate in dangerous
service; so I have been told.”
“True, Miss Sibyl, and it is a soldier’s duty to love, and also his
pleasure, as I may safely say, for dearly do I love you. Pardon me,
Sibyl, for thus abruptly speaking of this, to me, most important
subject; but to-night I leave you upon a service from which I may never
return, and if I fall, I would have you to know that I loved you more
than all else in this world. If my life is spared, then, Sibyl, I beg
you promise me to one day be my wife.”
Major Belden had spoken earnestly, and apparently with deep feeling;
but neither his words nor manner had touched the heart of Sibyl Conrad,
who, rising from the bank, replied:
“Major Belden, you surprise and pain me by your words, for I have no
love to give you, and never can have, though I shall ever regard you
most kindly as a friend.”
“Curse your friendship, Sibyl Conrad!” said the humiliated and
disappointed man.
Wheeling quickly, he strode from the spot, leaving the girl more
surprised by this new phase in his character than by his declaration of
love. Half an hour later Major Belden rode forth from the settlement,
his brow dark and lips compressed with internal emotion.
As he reached the edge of the prairie he came upon Howard Lawrence.
Bidding his men to ride slowly on, he called to the young man, and when
they halted side by side he said:
“Mr. Lawrence, can I ask, if you had a rival what would be your course
with him?”
Howard looked surprised, but answered almost fiercely:
“I would overreach him by fair or foul means, even were he my brother!”
“We think alike, Mr. Lawrence,” said the major. “Now, let me ask you
what regard you have for that prairie rover, Buffalo Bill?”
“None whatever, sir.”
“Well, he is my rival,” the major declared. “I have been told that he
is married, yet I am sure he has stolen the heart of the one woman I
love.”
“Then court-martial him for the crimes some say he has committed, and
hang him to the nearest tree,” was the fierce answer.
“Good advice, sir, and I will follow it; Mr. Lawrence, it will give me
pleasure to see you at the fort as my guest, and I think together we
can overreach this scout. Good day, sir.”
“Good day, Major Belden.”
Away dashed the major; and, with a strange smile upon his face, Howard
Lawrence rode on, muttering to himself:
“He sees I do not like Buffalo Bill any too well. Well, my gallant
major, when you have removed the scout from your path, I’ll devote my
attention to you and that handsome captain, for all that cross my love
trail must die. An arrow or rifle shot from the cover of a motte will
easily make those two officers food for wolves.
“Now, I must go on and improve my time with the lovely Sibyl, who is
the cause of so much mischief.”
Putting spurs to his horse, he dashed away, to find upon his arrival at
the stockade that the coast was not wholly clear, for Percy la Clyde
was sitting by the side of Sibyl Conrad.
With a smothered curse, Howard Lawrence turned away, and the next
moment met Ruth Whitfield with one of his sweetest smiles.
“Well, Mr. Lawrence, one of your rivals has just gone,” said Ruth, with
a malicious smile.
“True, and left another even more dangerous; but it is Buffalo Bill
that I fear most. He has such a way of upsetting plots and schemes. If
he were dead, I should feel happier and safer.”
“You wouldn’t harm him, would you?” she asked, noting the deadly flash
of his eyes.
“Leave that to me; he shall be captured and taken to a distant tribe of
Indians, whom I know well, and held there where he can’t interfere with
any of my plans.”
He spoke as if such a matter would be easy of accomplishment.
“She will not marry you, if she hears of the trick!”
It will be seen that Ruth Whitfield had in some strange manner fallen
under this man’s deadly influence, which was something like that of a
hypnotist.
“Well, I am playing a deep game,” he answered, “but I will win. I can
lie to Sibyl, and say that an Indian killed the scout.”
And then he turned away, muttering to himself.
“Yes, I’ll have to play some desperate game. And all will come right;
it must come right, or I am ruined, and Many Faces, as the Indians call
me, will have to pass in his checks, or get out of the country.”