THE ATTACK ON THE STAGE.
The journey by stage to that wonderful valley which the Indians named
the Yosemite has been so often described that we will not take up the
time of our readers by dwelling on the marvelous scenery of the Sierras.
Stopping for dinner at Mariposa, which is the first resting-place after
leaving Merced, where the railway ends, the stage went on to Clark's
Station.
About ten miles from the hotel there is the wonderful grove of big
trees, to see which is alone worth a journey of three thousand miles.
When they were nearing the hotel they encountered two shepherds, who
were walking in great haste.
"Take care," said one.
"Of what?" asked the driver, pulling up.
"Vasquez is on the road."
"How do you know?"
"He has just attacked the stage coming from Clark's Station. We heard
the shots as we were tending our sheep hard by."
"Any one hurt?"
"The driver's killed. There were a lady and a gentleman in the stage.
They were carried off."
"Which way did the robbers go?"
"Toward the big trees. It is there Vasquez has his camp."
"And where are you going?"
"To tell the sheriff of Mariposa."
Jack looked at Harvey.
"It seems to me that we ought to go after these robbers," said he.
"I'm willing," replied Harvey.
"My lads," said Jack to the shepherds, "do you know the country about
here?"
"Ed does," replied one, indicating his companion.
"All right; you go and mind your sheep. The driver of the stage shall
turn round and summon the sheriff of Mariposa, while Ed shall guide my
friend and myself to the camp of the robbers."
"And what am I to do?" asked Mr. Mole.
"You, sir, can walk to the hotel and wait for us."
"I'll do it," replied Mole; "for I don't think my poor old legs are
strong enough to carry me over hills and over mountains."
Everything was arranged in five minutes.
Jack had a way of organizing which would have done credit to a veteran
general.
Ed, the shepherd, was armed with a pistol, and Jack and Harvey were
similarly supplied.
"I've got some cooked mutton and some bread close here," said Ed; "and
I guess we ought to take it with us, as we shall be hungry before
morning."
Jack made no objection, and having put the provisions in a bag, he
slung it over his shoulder.
The stage was in the middle of the narrow roadway and the horses were
cropping the rich grass which grew by the side.
Lying on the road was the body of the dead stage-driver, who had been
shot through the heart.
Jack saw something white on a seat of the stage, and springing up on
the wheel, seized it.
It was a handkerchief, and embroidered in one corner was the name,
"Lena V."
"Hello!" cried Jack.
"What's up?" asked Harvey.
"My dear Dick," replied Jack, "there is somebody besides Vasquez in
this outrage."
"How?"
"Here is Lena Vanhoosen's handkerchief, or I am very much mistaken."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, sir, and Vasquez would not want to carry her off unless Lord
Maltravers was with him."
"True enough," said Harvey.
Jack laughed in a quiet, satisfied manner.
"They reckoned without one thing," he exclaimed. "They thought I was
still working in the mines of Brazil, and little imagined that Jack
Harkaway was on their track."
"They'll find it out, though, before long," said Harvey, with a grin.
"You bet."
"Now, let us go ahead. They haven't much the start of us."
"I'm ready."
Jack turned to the shepherd.
"Can you follow a trail?" he asked.
"I guess so, boss," was the reply.
"I don't want you to 'guess.' Say whether you can or not."
"Well, then, I can."
"Good enough!"
"There isn't an Indian that can beat me at tracking anything, whether
it is man or beast."
"Start right away," said Jack, "and you shall have a hundred dollars if
we come up with Vasquez before nightfall."
The shepherd looked carefully around, and soon found the trail, heading
off like a bloodhound who had got the scent.
For six miles they toiled up-hill all the way until they reached the
vicinity of the big trees.
The gigantic monarchs of the forest struck them with awe.
"Look at this wilderness," said Jack. "Do not these solitary trees give
you an idea of grandeur that you never had before?"
"They do, indeed," replied Harvey.
The shepherd held up his hand warningly.
"Danger," he whispered.
"Where?" asked Jack.
"Right here. Look!"
He pointed to the left, and Jack saw a group which riveted his
attention.
A little way off was Vasquez. Near him were Lord Maltravers, Lena, and
Alfred Vanhoosen, the two latter with their arms bound behind their
backs.
Two men, attendants of Vasquez, guarded the prisoners, who leant
disconsolately against the huge trunk of one of the trees.
"Do as I tell you!" exclaimed Vasquez.
"What?" asked Maltravers.
"Shoot the brother."
"But the girl will never forgive me."
"Ah, pshaw! I'll do it for you," said the robber.
Maltravers endeavored to restrain him, but he broke from him, and,
presenting a pistol at Alfred Vanhoosen, fired.
Alfred fell bleeding at his sister's feet.
But retribution, swift and sure, was at hand.
Jack aimed at him, and brought him down with a well-directed bullet.
"Fire, Dick, fire!" he cried. "Shoot every mother's son of them!"
Ed, the shepherd, and Harvey were not slow to obey this injunction.
The two attendant robbers were hit before they could realize that they
were in the presence of enemies.
In fact, the surprise was complete.
Lord Maltravers took in the situation at a glance.
"Harkaway!" he exclaimed, while his knees trembled under him.
"I am here," replied Jack.
"Is it you, or your ghost?" he asked.
"Not much ghost about me."
Maltravers saw that resistance was useless, and at the same time he
recognized the unpleasant fact that any attempt at escape would be
futile.
He was a doomed man.
Yet he made one effort to save himself.
"Will you let me go if I surrender?" he asked.
"I will not."
Lena Vanhoosen held out her hands, which she had separated from the
bonds that bound her.
"Save me! oh, save me!" she cried.
Maltravers hesitated a moment.
Then he leveled his pistol at Lena, as if his mind was fully made up.
"If I cannot have her, you shall never possess her!" he cried, savagely.
The next moment his pistol exploded, and Lena, the blood flowing from a
wound in her breast, fell to the ground.
"Villain and coward!" exclaimed Jack, as he emptied his revolver in the
wretch's body.
Maltravers staggered and sank on his knees.
"Curse you!" he said, as he feebly discharged his pistol at Jack.
The shot went wide of the mark, but it struck the shepherd, who was
mortally wounded.
It was a scene of carnage.
Alfred Vanhoosen was dead, so was Vasquez and his two followers,
Maltravers was dying, and Lena was in a like condition, while the
shepherd would never speak again.
Frantic with grief, Jack threw himself on the body of his beloved.
"My darling, my baby!" he exclaimed; "speak to me."
Lena raised her fast glazing eyes to him, but she could not utter a
word.
With bitter, scalding tears, Jack watched her die.
* * * * *
Let us draw a vail over this affecting scene.
Jack and Harvey went back to the hotel at Clark's Station and sent men
for the bodies.
The funeral of the slain took place at Mariposa.
Then Harkaway, Mr. Mole and Harvey returned to England by way of New
York.
It was long before he forgot his lost love, and for years the name
of Lena Vanhoosen was as dear to him as that of Lord Maltravers was
hateful.
THE END.
Transcriber's Notes:
This novel was originally serialized in Frank Leslie's Boys & Girls
Weekly from July 5-19, 1879. This text is derived from the original
serialization.
Added table of contents.
Italics are represented with _underscores_.
Obvious punctuation errors have been corrected.
Added missing "to" ("giving it to him").
Changed "day day" to "day" ("find a fool like you every day").
Changed "eat" to "ate" ("ate a little salad").
Changed "pursuade" to "persuade."
Changed "carrried" to "carried" ("carried the knife between").
Changed "wan't" to "want" ("want to know").
Corrected speaker from Pedro to Alfonso after "Look here!"
Changed "too" to "to" ("And I to see you, sis.").
End of Project Gutenberg's The Slave of the Mine, by Bracebridge Hemyng