THE BOWELS OF THE EARTH.
Edith Mordaunt and Abel Dare lay side by side upon the rocky floor
of the passage into which they had been borne for safe-keeping. They
discovered that their prison was indeed a rocky chamber out of which
the passage led, both into the outer air and into the hill. In that
chamber Seth Grable had left them just as he was startled by the cries
of his comrades, as the settlers began their desperate attack. And with
beating hearts, whose throbs were almost suffocating, the captives
listened, hoping, praying that the pale-faces might overcome the
Indians, and rescue them from what, otherwise, was almost certain death.
Believing themselves alone, they gave free expression to their hopes
and fears, little dreaming that human ears drank in their every word,
that human eyes were even then upon them, as they lay just within the
firelight. Then, with a step that made no sound, a tall figure glided
from out the darkness and stood over the wondering captives. And well
they might feel surprise, for the hermit stood before them in the
flesh, apparently unhurt!
A loud cry came to their ears from without, followed by the rapid
tramp of feet. Some one was approaching from the outer air. Stooping,
the hermit severed the cords that bound the lovers, at the same time
warning them to lie still. Then he sprung back into the shadow.
The White Wolf, a moment later, bounded into the fire-lighted circle,
his features horribly distorted, the devil painted in each bloodshot
eye. His intentions are easy told. He intended dragging the captives to
the ledge, and there expose them to view of the marksmen below, while
some of his braves knelt close behind them to pick off the attackers.
He knew that the settlers would not wantonly sacrifice their friends,
and depended upon that to free him from this new peril.
"Come--them cussed hounds out yender hev spoken yer doom. Better lose
a squaw than a life, though I hate to see ye rubbed out, gal," muttered
Grable, bending down.
"We'll live to see _you_ die!" gritted Abel, his hands clutching the
renegade by the throat, then hurling him with violence to the ground.
A yell of terror broke from his lips, echoed back by a cry so horrible
that he glared around in amazement. Then a shadow sprung forward. The
hermit stood over him. The firelight without flickered up--there could
be no mistake. Grable shuddered with a nameless awe. There seemed
something supernatural in these abrupt vanishings and reappearances.
"Mercy--don't kill me!" he gasped, as the bright glimmer of steel
filled his eyes. "I didn't mean you no harm when--"
"A dog you've lived--a dog you die!" gritted the hermit.
Then the long knife-blade descended twice, burying its length in the
heaving breast of the craven wretch. A horrible yell of agony--a shrill
laugh of diabolical glee--then the hermit sprung to his feet.
From without came other sounds--the savages would soon be there to
investigate the alarm. Unarmed save with a knife, the pale-faces could
expect to do little. Knowing this, Abel seized Edith and clasped her
firmly to his breast, saying:
"You know the crooks and turns of this place--lead on, then, before
those devils are upon our backs. Quick!"
"True, _she_ must be saved; for you and I, it matters little. Follow
me--tread carefully, and keep in my tracks. You have seen a specimen
of what the cavern contains, but there is more. Let the heathen follow
us if they dare; there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth in the
lodges of their people!" and again the wild, almost maniacal laugh of
the hermit rung out, reaching the ears of the savages, causing them
to glare hurriedly around, with a vague expectation of beholding some
supernatural horror.
Into the bowels of the hills--across a chasm spanned by a bridge,
taking a passage that led sharply to the right, the hermit led the way,
on through the darkness, never once faltering, though at more than one
point a single misstep would have ended in hurling the trio down to
inevitable destruction.
On he led, Abel following, Edith close clasped to his breast. Still on,
winding deviously, now in one direction, now in nearly its opposite,
until Abel felt his brain grow unsteady and commence to whirl.
"Now you can wait here until I return. Do not attempt to leave--the
ground is full of pitfalls made by nature."
"But should--if you should not return as you expect?"
"True--I forgot. Give me your hand. There--that is clay. By loosening
that you will find a passage that will lead you out upon the hill. Dig
twenty feet and you will come to a rock. Press hard against it, with
your shoulder, and you will roll it out. Here is a knife with which you
can dig. But don't attempt that for at least half an hour. There is no
danger of the heathen reaching you here, for, even if they attempt it,
I shall be in the way--and one man, with a knowledge of this trail, is
equal to a thousand in open ground. Remember--wait half an hour."
The hermit rapidly retraced his steps. He was now totally unarmed, but
felt little concern on that score. He possessed a knowledge that was
equal to an armory.
Pausing upon the bridge of rock, the hermit glared out upon the
swooning renegade, over whom stooped two braves, seeking to check the
flow of blood that saturated his garments. A devilish light deepened
in the hermit's eyes. He saw that the renegade still lived--possibly
might recover, and a bitter curse hissed through his grating teeth as
he groped around the edge of the rock with his hand.
Then again he stood erect, a rugged fragment in either hand. True as
the bullet from a hunter's rifle the rock sped through the air. Full
upon the bended head of the nearest savage it fell, crushing in the
skull bone. The second brave sprung hastily to his feet. The other rock
struck him upon the breast, felling him like a shot. Laughing horribly,
the hermit sprung forward, bending over the terror-stricken renegade.
The wounded savage utters a faint cry, and partially rising, flings
his knife at the hermit. The sharp blade sinks deep in the fleshy part
of the shoulder, but is unheeded by the seeming madman. The moaning
White Wolf is raised bodily from the blood-stained rock, and borne to
the edge of the muttering, rumbling abyss. A moment--then a horrible
shriek rings through the hollow hill as his body descends like a shot;
a sullen splash--then all is silence save the grumbling tones of the
water fiend.
And now the hermit stood possessed of a knife, a hatchet, a stout bow,
and tolerably well-filled quiver.
With ready bow he glided silently along, choosing the deepest shadow,
where the glow of the fire could not penetrate. He seemed to have only
thought for vengeance. He knew that he was death-stricken--in his
madness he resolved to exact a heavy compensation. His death would be a
dear one to the Osages.
He paused, the phosphorescent glitter deepening in his eyes as he
caught sight of several human forms, crouching close to the rugged
walls, their attention turned toward the cave entrance, their weapons
in readiness for instant use. They were Indians. He could distinguish
them quite plainly by the light of day beyond, though from the ledge
they would be invisible.
After escaping the death threatened by the bowlder, Boone had led his
men upon the ledge, winning it by a fierce though momentary struggle.
The Indians retreated into the cave darkness. To follow them there
would be little short of madness, and the Wood King called a halt to
consult upon the best plan of procedure. Lying close to either side
of the entrance they waited. Inside were the savages; beyond them the
hermit, all unsuspected, the fires of insanity blazing in his eyes, as
he bent the stout bow.
The bow relaxed--the arrow sped--an Osage sunk forward, transfixed by
the feathered shaft, his death-cry carrying consternation to the hearts
of the warriors, for they knew not whence the death-shot came. Another
_twang_ was followed with a like result, and then the madman's shrill
laughter rung out clear and devilish. In terror the Osages leaped
to their feet and darted to the entrance. From bad to worse. Half a
dozen rifles cracked, so close that their flashes scorched the flesh;
and then the rangers rushed on to a hand-to-hand struggle. But the
terror-stricken savages turned and fled.
Still before them sounded that horrible peal, and at the fire they
faltered in terror. Following each other in rapid succession the
feathered shafts carried death into their midst, each shot accompanied
by a devilish laugh. Paralyzed with horror, the savages flung
themselves upon the blood-running floor, hiding their heads. Upon them
poured the rangers, mad, raging, striking and slaying without mercy in
their blind rage, until not one was left alive.
When the excitement was over, the over-wrought strength of the hermit
gave way, and he staggered out into the firelight, and sunk to the
floor like one dead. Boone, recognizing him, rushed to his assistance.
"Where are our friends?" he asked.
"Over there--take torches and bring them here, quick! I must not die
without telling him--haste, I am dying!" gasped the hermit, blood
tinging his long beard.
A party of rangers started in search of our friends, and soon found
them.
The meeting was a joyous one, and much hand-shaking was indulged in
before the last words of the hermit were remembered. Then the party
hastily retraced their steps, Abel still supporting Edith, whose nerves
had been sadly shattered by the terrible, heart-crushing events of the
past few days.
They found the hermit lying in a pool of his own blood, his head upon
the Wood King's lap, his eyes closed as though in death. But at the
sound of footsteps he roused up and muttered a request for more liquor.
Reluctantly Boone complied, holding the flask of corn-juice to his
bloodless lips. The fiery liquor seemed to infuse new life into the
wounded man's veins, and his voice was strong and distinct as he spoke.
"Abel Dare--come nearer to me. You must hear every word, for a dead man
speaks to you. Not long since you told me that you knew not whether
your father lived or was dead. I am the only being living that can
clear that mystery."
"Tell me, then. Can it be that you are--"
"Patience--I will tell you, but it must be in my own way. You told me
your mother forgave him upon her death-bed; she had nothing to forgive
_him_, for he never did her wrong in thought or deed! Two men loved
your mother--one was Reuben Dare, the other was James Hazelwood. The
last took her marriage so greatly to heart that he lost his mind. His
friends placed him in an asylum. One night it burned to the ground.
James Hazelwood was among the missing. All thought him dead--buried in
the ruins; but he was not. _His_ hand kindled the fire; then he escaped.
"A short time afterward, your mother began to receive anonymous notes,
leading her to suspect the fidelity of her husband. At first she
treated them with silent scorn, but the cunning of a madman--for the
hand of Hazelwood was in this--made black seem white--the innocent
seem guilty. Then she sorrowed, still in silence. Reuben Dare, at any
other time, would have noticed this, and soon learned its cause, but he
was battling hard with adversity--trying to save himself from ruin. A
series of misfortunes had swallowed his fortune; he was a bankrupt.
"Hazelwood saw all this, and timed his actions well. The night before
the truth must be known, he watched your father at his office--it was
nearly midnight when he started to go home. As he passed an alley, a
heavy blow felled him to the ground. The next he knew he was in a close
carriage, securely bound, rolling swiftly along. The carriage paused,
Hazelwood dragged forth his victim, and then told him all--of the
diabolical plot he had formed to ruin him even after death. Then there
was a cruel blow. When daylight came the corpse of your father was
floating far out upon the Delaware bay. Wait, I am nearly done. More
whisky--I am growing weak," muttered the hermit, faintly.
"That day your father's name was coupled with dishonor. They said he
had robbed his creditors, and had fled with another man's wife. _That_
was Hazelwood's revenge. But it was with _him_ that the woman fled. But
he was crazy--crazy."
"And who are _you_, that you know of all this?" hoarsely demanded Abel
Dare, his eyes glowing, his breast heaving.
"I am--I was--James--Hazelwood, the mad--"
A grating cry broke from the young man's lips, and he darted forward,
but, with uplifted hand, the Wood King said:
"Stay--he is beyond your power now--he is dead!"
The words were true. The hermit was no more--had died with the horrible
confession upon his lips. There was much left unexplained, that would
now be forever buried in oblivion. Of his life since the crime--how he
came to be a wanderer in these wilds, a hermit, no one would ever know.
Yet Abel felt a feeling of relief far down in his heart, for now he
knew that he had not been the son of a double criminal; though his
father had been unfortunate, he had not been guilty of the crime that
had rested upon his name.
The day was far spent, and as much yet remained to be done, the rangers
decided not to return to the settlement that night. A soft couch of
leaves was made for Edith under shelter of a rock, where she almost
immediately sunk into a deep and dreamless slumber, the first she had
enjoyed since the night before the massacre.
The Indian bodies were cast into the pitfall, but a grave was dug
outside for those of the settlers who had fallen.
The rangers watched closely that night, but nothing was seen or heard
of any enemies. With early dawn they took up their return march,
reaching the settlement in safety. Within one week the insurrection was
put down--the savages sued for peace, and the country was once more
safe.
That winter Abel Dare and Edith were married, and the girl who had been
mistaken by Lightfoot for Yellow-hair, stood bridesmaid, having been
released by the Osages at the new treaty.
And so we leave the couple, safely through the storm, basking in the
sunshine of each other's love.
THE END
DIME POCKET NOVELS.
PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH.
1--Hawkeye Harry. By Oll Coomes.
2--Dead Shot. By Albert W. Aiken.
3--The Boy Miners. By Edward S. Ellis.
4--Blue Dick. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
5--Nat Wolfe. By Mrs. M. V. Victor.
6--The White Tracker. Edward S. Ellis.
7--The Outlaw's Wife. Mrs. Ann S. Stephens.
8--The Tall Trapper. By Albert W. Aiken.
9--Lightning Jo. By Capt. Adams.
10--The Island Pirate. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
11--The Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes.
12--Bess, the Trapper. By E. S. Ellis.
13--The French Spy. By W. J. Hamilton.
14--Long Shot. By Capt. Comstock.
15--The Gunmaker. By James L. Bowen.
16--Red Hand. By A. G. Piper.
17--Ben, the Trapper. By Lewis W. Carson.
18--Wild Raven. By Oll Coomes.
19--The Specter Chief. By Seelin Robbins.
20--The B'ar-Killer. By Capt. Comstock.
21--Wild Nat. By Wm. R. Eyster.
22--Indian Jo. By Lewis W. Carson.
23--Old Kent, the Ranger. Edward S. Ellis.
24--The One-Eyed Trapper. Capt. Comstock
25--Godbold, the Spy. By N. C. Iron.
26--The Black Ship. By John S. Warner.
27--Single Eye. By Warren St. John.
28--Indian Jim. By Edward S. Ellis.
29--The Scout. By Warren St. John.
30--Eagle Eye. By W. J. Hamilton.
31--The Mystic Canoe. By Edward S. Ellis.
32--The Golden Harpoon. By R. Starbuck.
33--The Scalp King. By Lieut. Ned Hunter.
34--Old Lute. By E. W. Archer.
35--Rainbolt, Ranger. By Oll Coomes.
36--The Boy Pioneer. By Edward S. Ellis.
37--Carson, the Guide. By J. H. Randolph.
38--The Heart Eater. By Harry Hazard.
39--Wetzel, the Scout. By Boynton Belknap.
40--The Huge Hunter. By Ed. S. Ellis.
41--Wild Nat, the Trapper. Paul Prescott.
42--Lynx-cap. By Paul Bibbs.
43--The White Outlaw. By Harry Hazard.
44--The Dog Trailer. By Frederick Dewey.
45--The Elk King. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
46--Adrian, the Pilot. By Col. P. Ingraham.
47--The Man-hunter. By Maro O. Rolfe.
48--The Phantom Tracker. By F. Dewey.
49--Moccasin Bill. By Paul Bibbs.
50--The Wolf Queen. By Charles Howard.
51--Tom Hawk, the Trailer.
52--The Mad Chief. By Chas. Howard.
53--The Black Wolf. By Edwin E. Ewing.
54--Arkansas Jack. By Harry Hazard.
55--Blackbeard. By Paul Bibbs.
56--The River Rifles. By Billex Muller.
57--Hunter Ham. By J. Edgar Iliff.
58--Cloudwood. By J. M. Merrill.
59--The Texas Hawks. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
60--Merciless Mat. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
61--Mad Anthony's Scouts. By E. Rodman.
62--The Luckless Trapper. Wm. R. Eyster.
63--The Florida Scout. Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
64--The Island Trapper. Chas. Howard.
65--Wolf-Cap. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
66--Rattling Dick. By Harry Hazard.
67--Sharp-Eye. By Major Max Martine.
68--Iron-Hand. By Frederick Forest.
69--The Yellow Hunter. By Chas. Howard.
70--The Phantom Rider. By Maro O. Rolfe.
71--Delaware Tom. By Harry Hazard.
72--Silver Rifle. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
73--The Skeleton Scout. Maj. L. W. Carson.
74--Little Rifle. By Capt. "Bruin" Adams.
75--The Wood Witch. By Edwin Emerson.
76--Old Ruff, the Trapper. "Bruin" Adams.
77--The Scarlet Shoulders. Harry Hazard.
78--The Border Rifleman. L. W. Carson.
79--Outlaw Jack. By Harry Hazard.
80--Tiger-Tail, the Seminole. R. Ringwood.
81--Death-Dealer. By Arthur L. Meserve.
82--Kenton, the Ranger. By Chas. Howard.
83--The Specter Horseman. Frank Dewey.
84--The Three Trappers. Seelin Robbins.
85--Kaleolah. By T. Benton Shields, U. S. N.
86--The Hunter Hercules. Harry St. George.
87--Phil Hunter. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
88--The Indian Scout. By Harry Hazard.
89--The Girl Avenger. By Chas. Howard.
90--The Red Hermitess. By Paul Bibbs.
91--Star-Face, the Slayer.
92--The Antelope Boy. By Geo. L. Aiken.
93--The Phantom Hunter. By E. Emerson.
94--Tom Pintle, the Pilot. By M. Klapp.
95--The Red Wizard. By Ned Hunter.
96--The Rival Trappers. By L. W. Carson.
97--The Squaw Spy. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
98--Dusky Dick. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
99--Colonel Crockett. By Chas. E. Lasalle.
100--Old Bear Paw. By Major Max Martine.
101--Redlaw. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
102--Wild Rube. By W. J. Hamilton.
103--The Indian Hunters. By J. L. Bowen.
104--Scarred Eagle. By Andrew Dearborn.
105--Nick Doyle. By P. Hamilton Myers.
106--The Indian Spy. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
107--Job Dean. By Ingoldsby North.
108--The Wood King. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
109--The Scalped Hunter. By Harry Hazard.
110--Nick, the Scout. By W. J. Hamilton.
111--The Texas Tiger. By Edward Willett.
112--The Crossed Knives. By Hamilton.
113--Tiger-Heart, the Tracker. By Howard.
114--The Masked Avenger. By Ingraham.
115--The Pearl Pirates. By Starbuck.
116--Black Panther. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
117--Abdiel, the Avenger. By Ed. Willett.
118--Cato, the Creeper. By Fred. Dewey.
119--Two-Handed Mat. By Jos. E. Badger.
120--Mad Trail Hunter. By Harry Hazard.
121--Black Nick. By Frederick Whittaker.
122--Kit Bird. By W. J. Hamilton.
123--The Specter Riders. By Geo. Gleason.
124--Giant Pete. By W. J. Hamilton.
125--The Girl Captain. By Jos. E. Badger.
126--Yankee Eph. By J. R. Worcester.
127--Silverspur. By Edward Willett.
128--Squatter Dick. By Jos. E. Badger.
129--The Child Spy. By George Gleason.
130--Mink Coat. By Jos. E. Badger.
131--Red Plume. By J. Stanley Henderson.
132--Clyde, the Trailer. By Maro O. Rolfe.
133--The Lost Cache. J. Stanley Henderson.
134--The Cannibal Chief. Paul J. Prescott.
135--Karaibo. By J. Stanley Henderson.
136--Scarlet Moccasin. By Paul Bibbs.
137--Kidnapped. By J. Stanley Henderson.
138--Maid of the Mountain. By Hamilton.
139--The Scioto Scouts. By Ed. Willett.
140--The Border Renegade. By Badger.
141--The Mute Chief. By C. D. Clark.
142--Boone, the Hunter. By Whittaker.
143--Mountain Kate. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
144--The Red Scalper. By W. J. Hamilton.
145--The Lone Chief. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
146--The Silver Bugle. Lieut. Col. Hazleton.
147--Chinga, the Cheyenne. By E. S. Ellis.
148--The Tangled Trail. By Major Martine.
149--The Unseen Hand. By J. S. Henderson.
150--The Lone Indian. By Capt. C. Howard.
151--The Branded Brave. By Paul Bibbs.
152--Billy Bowlegs, The Seminole Chief.
153--The Valley Scout. By Seelin Robbins.
154--Red Jacket. By Paul Bibbs.
155--The Jungle Scout. Ready
156--Cherokee Chief. Ready
157--The Bandit Hermit. Ready
158--The Patriot Scouts. Ready
159--The Wood Rangers.
160--The Red Foe. Ready
161--The Beautiful Unknown.
162--Canebrake Mose. Ready
163--Hank, the Guide. Ready
164--The Border Scout. Ready Oct. 5th.
BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.
* * * * *
[Transcriber's Note: No Chapter X. heading in original text.]