The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907, November 04, 1876, Image 1
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V
A
Story next week—A Legend of Hot Springs.
VOL II.
JOHN H. SEALS,
ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 4. 1876.
'T’TT'TJ ATQ j PER ANNUM
LJL±\iVlk\j IN ADVANCE.
NO. 25
[For The Sunny South.]
A SONNET.
BY MBS. AMELIA V. PUBDY.
It is as true as li^ht, that not one man
In legions cun preserve his soul from stain
If fortune lifts him to her star-lit height,
Or keeps him in Adversity’s drear rain;
Either way he shall degraded be.
Had Grant but died when victory's peans rung
A conquering people would throughout all time
Have mourned their chieftain and his praises sung.
He lives too long, who lives to know defeat;
In the zenith of success let great (?) men pass,
For if they live, and petty traits are hid
By the moment's sparkle- they will show, alas I
And our hero-idol—is not sevres fine.
Not diamond-dust, as we had fondly thought,
But dust o’ the highway, and our god lies prone,
Or retrocedes to the old ignoble lot
From which fate flung him rocket-like, to blaze
His little hour, and pass. It is because
So few are bright that brightness blinds our sight,
And the day’s scintilla hides unsightly flaws,
Then Time, all merciless lays bare, and hence
Who goes not home while yet his bays are green,
And the simple folk all kneel, will live to see
The man drawn out before the golden screen.
fFor The Sunny South.]
The Outlaw Lancers;
OR,
IN AT THE DEATH.
A TALE OF “GULCH RIVER ”
AND THE FLAINS.
BY YVM. R. EYSTER,
Author of “Cedar Swamp," "Lost," “Through Water
and Fire," “ The Haunted Hunter," "King Vick,"
"Free Trapper's Pass." "Branded and
Mad," "Ianthe,” etc., etc.
CHAPTER, XIII.
Of course Mariau Dorn was ignorant of the
meeting between Lieutenant Priestly anti Cap
tain Ronald, with its strange ending. The out
law came walking slowly back to camp, evi
dently in deep thought; but he said nothing
with regard to what had happened, and the ab-
of Priestly -who had been known to the
outlaws as Tom Brent—was unnoticed. During
the day Marian was possessed of a demon of
unrest. She fretted and chafed under her
wound and imprisonment. At every opportu
nity she looked anxiously for the sentinel who
had spoken to her, hut saw nothing of him. It
was well that Ellen fancied the light shining
in her eyes was born of fear; had she not, she
would have suspected that there was some hid
den hope or reason, and might have taken meas
ures that would have effectually precluded all
chance of escape. That she was now held as a
prisoner, Marian could not doubt; for what rea
son, was more than she could tell, and she
shrank from making a guess at her future des
tiny should she be left in these hands. One
thing seemed certain: in some way she had
awakened a strong interest in the outlaw’s sis
ter. From time to time she felt her flashing
eyes turned upon her with a gaze that could not
be of love, and she sometimes feared might be
of hate. There was a consciousness, too, about
the look that almost led Marian to believe that
something of her past life was known to those
around her. How, it was not easy to explain,
unless she had dropped some hints of its bitter
history during those hours which seemed like a
blank to her.
The day passed, scouts came and went; the
camp still remained in the same spot, without
any appearance of immediate change. Then
the night came down, cool and calm; the little
camp-flres shane dimly, and above the stars
looked down from the great blue heavens in
all their serene grandeur. The outlaw’s sister
shared the hut with Marian; but though they
had been thrown together for some days, there
seemed but little likelihood of the two becom
ing better friends than at the first moment of
their meeting. There was a natural aversion to
be got rid of before Marian could see even
those outside beauties of form and manner,
which were actually a fact, of this strangely
handsome woman. Cold, reserved, even haughty
in her manner, the traces of a sorrow that were
so plainly marked upon her features did not
strike Marian as they would have done under
more favorable circumstances. If she saw them
at all, they awakened no pity, since she judged
her as nine women out of ten would have done;
thought the worst of her from her presence
amidst such surroundings, and deemed that her
sorrows sprang from the lingering remains of
womanly pride.
This evening Ellen sat long in silence; so
long, indeed, that Marian Dorn, feigning sleep,
several times caught herself napping, and feared
that in spite of her resolution she might lose
consciousness altogether and sleep soundly
through the night. Nights seemed to pass, and
hours did pass, ere Marian, possessed of strength
far bejond that credited to her by Ronald
and his sister, arose and noiselessly glided out
of the hut, past guards and videttes, and made
her way in silence and fear down through the deep
shadows which lay along and over the stream.
She almost smiled when she saw how easy it was
to make her exit from the camp. But any such
flight as this, alone and on foot, could bring but
temporary safety in case Captain Ronald chose
to maintain his assumed right of property in
his prisoner. She must have a mount or meet
with friends, else the expert trailers in the camp
could run her down before the sun was half a
dozen hours high, and it was in hopes of meet
ing these that she turned her footsteps in the
direction of the spot indicated by Lieutenant
Priestly.
There was not much difficulty about finding
the place. The bluff-line ran straight ahead,
whilst the stream gave a great curve. Exposed
though the spot was, she did not hesitate, but
went onwards until she reached the shelf of
rock which she had been ^expecting to find. It
was tenantless, but somewhat to her surprise
there were a few still smoking, smouldering em
bers there, the remnants of a small fire which
had doubtless been lighted but a few hours be-
lore.
As Marian knew but little concerning prairie-
strange ocean this prairie
is that throws np strange
things; what next will
come ?”
Advancing as he spoke,
Captain Ronald stretched
out his hand and that of
the other closed over it
with a grip so hard and
firm that it seemed
t ti’i lively at variance with
his apparent exhaustion.
Rising, the elder man
straightened his tall fig
ure and looked from one
to the other.
“Ronald ! Ellen ! Who
speaks of dishonor? Ah!
the stained honor of a
Bayne must be avenged.”
Ellen hid her face with
the light wrapping that
clung to her shiulders,
her form quivered, and
she gave vent to a deep
sob, which only escaped
her after a severe struggle,
bhe heeded not her broth
er’s horror.
Ah, his mind wanders—
I must win him to camp
and see to this. What has
he said to you ?”
“Nothing. He takes
me for a spirit, I fear.
It is too cruel, this pun
ishment for no crime that
I have willingly done.
Pray lead him away. I
shall follow at a distance,
and perhaps when his
mind is more composed
he can bear the sight of
poor, miserable me."
The Tangled Skein—A Knotty Question.
craft, the idea that it had
been used for signal pur
poses never once struck
her. Whatever it was, it
was deserted, and the first
thought, which struck
her with a cold chill, was
that the friend or friends
whom she had hoped to
meet had come and gone.
Anxiously she sought
for footprints, but the
hard, bare rock gave no
sign. Patient in fear,
she seated herself to col
lect her thoughts, and
decide what was the best
for her to do. As she
gazed out into the dim,
vast solitude, her heart
grew cold, and she bowed
her head, shutting out
the light with her hands.
Just now Spencer Boyd
had no place in her
thoughts. She forgot that
trouble in the present
profound fears.
Hark!
She started up, for she
heard I he sound of some
one approaching; in fact,
the footstep was very
near.
A man was coming
slowly and cautiously up
the declivity on the hin
der side, so to speak, of
the bluff. At sight of
Marian, he halted, gave
one glance, and then
sprang recklessly up. In
an instant, he was by her
side, gazing into her face,
trembling with astonish
ment and full of emotion.
At the very moment
when the mad desire to
see Spencer Boyd —or
Ray Moulden, as he was
now known — seemed
about to begone, perhaps
forever) lo ! he appeared.
They stood facing each
other, with feelings too
deep for utterance.
She knew him upon
the instant, despite the
army blouse which he
wore—knew him as well
as if he had left her side
bat a moment before.
And Ray Moulden knew
her, too, and a load
was lifted off his soul. In a moment of hot
anger and turbulent thought, he had done that
which he deeply regretted when he once had an
inkling of what might be obtained from the let
ter given to him by Burke, the scout. Minnie
Farwell was beautiful as a dream and rich as
Crcesus, but the road to her heart and posses
sions was long and tortuous, whilst Marian
Dorn, who had beauty enough to at one time
fetter his conscience and lead him to danger,
was, or might be his, with all her late-found
wealth.
All of this flashed through his mind, and in
a moment he had matured his plans, yet scarce
knew how to approach this woman, whom he
acknowledged he had scandalously treated, yet
whom he knew was searching for him.
When Moulden saw that he was recognized,
he started back as if in astonishment, and ex
claimed:
“ Marian Dorn I”
“Yes, Marian Dorn,” she answered, flinging
aside from her face the rich wreath of her long,
streaming hair with a proud toss of her head,
and reading his eyes with a steady look that
seemed to pierce to the very bottom of his soul.
“ Marian Dorn, or Marian Boyd—or what ? I
am she who once was Marian Dorn—you best
know what I should now be called, and it is to
find it out that I have traversed all these weary
miles, to come at last straight by fate to you.”
The directness of her attack non-plussed
Boyd, whose coolness had not altogether re
turned. He began to talk, to gain time. In a
tone a little tremulous, he went on:
“ Marian, in this fortunate meeting let us for
get all the cruel wickedness of the past. That
! you have been faithful, I admit with all shame
! and regret for my own past villainy—-for I shall
call it by its true name. Is this meeting of
chance or fate?”
“Away with your platitudes—you do not an-
I swer me my question. Who am I?”
“My wife,” he answered steadily, and ad
vancing a step or two, he made a motion as
though he would stretch out his arms.
Repelling him, she stepped back. With a
gesture, she bade him keep his distance. The
love-light that would have shown a greeting in
her eyes a few weeks since, was all gone.
“Nay, hear me,” he continued. “I am not
all had. I was, at my own request, sent out
with a body of troops to follow some maraud
ing savages, and by chance came upon the train
with which yon had traveled. Their unburied i straight and smooth. Many moments did not I tween his lips. j woman who might be and probably was a cap-
corpses lay a spectacle of horror. I learned elapse before he came in sight of the rock and } At length he revived, After a time he even tive. Once or twice , however, he had thought
that you had been with the train, yet I found its occupants. In the gray light he could see j went so far as to sit up. Without uttering a of her, and now, just when he had leisure to
no traces of you, and fearing that you were a that they were two, a man and a woman. The j word, he stared at the woman with great, wild , unravel the secret and attempt to protect and
captive, I followed on in hot-footed pursuit, man sat crouched in a strange-looking heap, eyes, she returning the gaze with a look scorn- save her, she dropped into his hands. Literally
To-night I saw two pillars of signal smoke, and with his back to the woman, who was walking ful and as silent. dropped, since it was his arm that had arrested
hesitated towards which I should turn my steps, backwards and forwards with a nervous stride. He passed his hand feebly over his eyes and her in her downward flight, and snatched her
I came hither, though, drawn, I firmly believe, Much to his surprise, he recognized in this wo- looked again. The phantom was still there, j back from the chasm into which she was falling,
by the magnetism of your presence. My men man his sister. “Where am I, who am I, who are you?” at Parsons had marked two columns of signal
wait yonder in the shadows; let us join them. Scarcely halting to dismount, Captain Ronald length he found strength to utter. smoke at the hour of sundown that evening,
your guidance for the present, since it is some
thing that any woman in such plight might ac
cept—once in safety and the tardy reparation
rendered, which I shall doubtless wring from
you, and we shall never see each other’s faces
again.”
“Say not so,” he exclaimed. “ Give me at
least a chance to explain, an opportunity to re
gain the possible heaven that I have lost. I see
life and joy for us in store, in the future.”
A hard step fell upon the ears of both, and
Marian had just time to give one quick glance
over her shoulder, to give a wild scream as she
saw springing towards them Allan Bayne.
She recognized him in a moment, despite the
grizzly beard that now showed itself upon his
face, and some trifling change in his clothing.
Under the sombrero that now shaded his face,
she saw the begriming of the mark which she
herself had made there, and his eyes glared
upon her with the same insane fire as at their
first meeting.
“ And I see—death !” he shouted, and at the
word was on them.
Rapidly as Moulden drew his sabre, the mo
tion was too slow. Under that powerful grip,
the two quivered for an instant like reeds shaken
in the wind. Then, as if they were children,
the madman raised them, one in either hand,
and cast them from him straight over the edge
of the cliff.
And at that moment, just a second, as it were,
too late, Ellen, the outlaw’s sister, rushed madly
forward and threw her arms around the neck of
the Texan, exclaiming:
“ Merciful heavens ! Are you mad ?”
that man, look at him, | will be the meeting when he comes to you lying
and say if it was strange j helpless here and fulfills his oath of revenge-”
that I should scream.” J A shudder ran over the frame of Ray Moulden
Ronald moved a step as he listened to this enumeration. He stretched
or two closer; the man out his hand to stay the bitter flood of speech,
looked up and was reeog- j and when she had ceased his face was, if any-
nized. , thing, whiter than before.
“What wave cast you I “Spare me,” he moaned. I am broken by my
up upon this rock? A fall. I am lost without help. I acknowledge
' all, but save me; by the memory of our former
love, which was great, save me.”
“And that other woman—was it to meet her
that you came here to your doom? Where is
she, and is she another of your poor victims.”
“No, no; I swear to you I know nothing of
her; she is nothing to me; I met her here by
chance. She is mad, crazy. Where is she ? I
will look her and all the world in the face and
say I meant to be honest and trne to you.”
“ Spencer Boyd, or whatever your name may
be, you lie. Shock or fear has unmanned you,
and you seek to save the remnant of your worth
less life at any cost. Well, it shall be saved, if
I can effect the saving. For Marion I care
nought. Doubtless her corpse lies somewhere
among the jagged rocks here, that you have
escaped yourself by only a miracle. For you I
will make an effort, at least.”
She raised herself and seemed about to de
part.
“ Oh, do not leave me; I am helpless and will
perish if left alone—Ellen, Ellen !”
“ So far as his power went, he threw all of
plaintive pleading that could be imagined into
his magical voice. By a mighty effort he caught
at the very soul-strings of the girl, and bound
her in his chains as securely, apparently, as he
had enchanted her of old.
“I will return,” she said sadly. “Already I
have done what little was possible toward veil
ing you from those who, for good reason, would
take your life. I have sent father and brother
from the spot; but a word from the former may
send the other here. Was not his brain disor
dered, that word would have been spoken long
age. I must leave you to allay and prevent their
suspicions, and procure those things you need
to sustain you, and perhaps aid in your escape.”
“ I have men not a mile distant. Could you
not take word to them ?”
“No; it might bring on a conflict. I am as
mad, as foolish as ovfci.; I will aid you, but in raj
own way. I have much I would say to you, yet
“ I will,” answered her ! your safety is the first thing with me, and I say,
brother, and set himself for the present, farewell.”
She tied away with a light, elastic step, leav
ing Moulden to gaze after her in a mystified,
wondering way, feebly trying to put together
the many threads which had become a tangled
web in his hands.
At the same time a man, burly in form, his
face and head covered with a thick mass of hair,
came cautiously from a crevice near the top of
the rocky ledge from which Moulden had fallen,
and began a cautious descent.
to the task, which did not
prove difficult. The re
action had come, and after
his fierce burst of passion
Allan Bayne proved plas
tic enough, under the
moulding hands of his
son.
And all this time Marian
Dorn seemed to have dropped entirely from the
thoughts of both. Ronald, or Ronald Bayne,
led away his father, and without a question left
Ellen to 1 ier own reflections.
It would have seemed singular, however, if
Ellen Bayne had totally forgotten the double
tragedy which, a little too late, she had striven
her best to prevent.
Such, indeed, was not the cause; she had her
reasons, and very good reasens they were, for
acting as she did. Hardly had the retreating
footsteps begun to sound perceptibly fainter,
when she sprang to her feet and with agile steps
sought a road to the front of the bluff over
which she had seen the two cast.
Although her ears had been ever bent in that
CHAPTER XIV.
The wild scream of Marian pealed out omin
ously upon the night air, and awoke the echoes
for miles around. It pierced into the recesses
of Captain Ronald’s camp, where the outlaws
were peacefully sleeping, ignorant of the fact
that one they considered a prisoner was off and
away.
In a moment the Captain was upon his feet
and rushing to the hut near by. He found it
tenantless. Then, giving a hasty order that half f once more,
a dozen of the men who came pouring around
him should follow, he mounted his horse and
dashed away in the direction of the spot from
whence the sound seemed to have proceeded.
By leaving the line of timber he was able to
head for the spot over a road that was both
CHAPTER XV.
The sight of the gaunt Texan, Allan Bayne,
leaping towards her, was sufficient to fill Marian
with all possible terror. He came upon her
sight with all the ghastliness of a midnight
spectre, since, up to this time, she had believed
that the shot from her revolver had proved fatal.
Often, even in the midst of the soul-trying
events around her, had she thought of him ly
ing dead and festering in the long grass of the
river bottom. Often had she looked at her slen
der, delicate hand, and wondered why she had
been forced to stain it with the life-blood of a
fellow-mortal.
direction, no sounds of any kind from below j He came, then, as a mental relief as well as a
| had reached them to show that there was aught : terror. Once more she felt his firm grip upon
j of life there. Yet, she was determined to see j her arm, but this time she had no weapon of
I for herself, and, nerved for some ghastly spec- j defense, and she was borne, save the one wild
| tacle, <he ran to explore the mystery of the | scream, unresistingly along, and from the edge
j chasm. I of the cliff was flung like a feather, whilst her
I She rushed headlong downward; she pushed renegade husband came whirling after,
through the interlacing shrubs and rank grasses, j No time to wonder why, or grasp at the hidden
looking this way and that for some sign of Ma- , reason of Bayne’s persistent efforts to take her
rian or the other. ^ life. She was falling, falling.
At length she found him. He lay stretched She closed her eyes as she passed over the
prone at the foot of a huge tree, the branches of ; brink, and every nerve grew tense as she waited
which seemed to have broken what was at best a in despair the sick inevitable ending of her flight,
terrible fall. A little puddle of blood stained j And yet it lasted but a second. In fact, ere
the ground nigh to his face, and his breathing ; her body had fairly acquired a downward mo-
was short and labored. i mentum, she was snatched from death to life,
She sank down at the side of the man with a and lay motionless upon the floor of a little
low moan and gazed at him long and earnestly, i cavity, scarce large enough to be called a cave;
The rising sun cast its rays into the little canon I and over her bent the form of Jacob Parsons,
or gorge, and showed her the pale face and the somewhat strained, and panting after his late
cruel, firm-set mouth, smutched now with crim- { exertion.
son. j He watched her a moment and scratched his
Was he dead? was her first question; and head in a dubious manner. The face of the girl
when she saw that he was not, was he dying? j seemed familiar to him, but he could not for
Then she raised his head up, dragged him j some time recall under what circumstances he
into a more comfortable position, and bending ! had before seen it.
down once more, threw her arms around his
neck and covered his face with kisses.
When he groaned and moved uneasily with
the first efforts of what appeared to be returning
consciousness, she grew cold and self-possessed
She drew herself up like one gath-
Parsons had a quick eye and a good memory;
his mind was a perfect repository of names and
faces; neither could he be puzzled long. Like
a flash it come to him that this was the woman
he had seen a few nights before, for the second
that his rifle had illuminated the hut into which
ering all her senses together with a firmly-knit | the outlaws were endeavoring to force an en-
resolve, and when she bent over Ray Moulden ; trance.
again she seemed like a different woman. J The old trapper-scout was not a sentimental-
A canteen lay by his side. On trying it, El- j ist; he and his comrade had then duties to per-
len found that it contained water, and with this j form, and they had gone about them without
she bathed his forehead and dropped a little be- : any farther effort to solve the mystery of the
I shall place you in safety; we will forget the
past; I will repair the wrong I did you, we will
love and be happy.”
“And how about those barriers between us?”
“They are gone; I have broken them down;
they are cast aside; they exist no more. Come.”
“Never!” she answered, drawing herself up
proudly. “In these wilds I have had a revela
tion. I neither fear nor love you. I shall fight
leaped from his saddle and hastened to the side
of the girl, who desisted from her walk and
awaited his coming.
“What is the meaning of this tomfoolery?—
“ And can you find it necessary to ask who I and turned aside to investigate the cause of the
am?” answered Ellen. “Who you are, may well nearest one. Having learned about all that he
be a question, since you bear many different wanted to know, with a reckless bravery that
_ __ names and float between many places. Well, it perhaps was the best thing for him to do, he
who is yonder man ?—and what became of your makes little difference; you are a villain at all camped right down in the midst of what he
pet prisoner ? Was that your scream that time. I would save you if I could, but it is ; well knew was danger. His horse was lariated
aroused the camp?”
He cast out his questions in a bundle, with a
tone which showed that his humor was none
useless to try. I am she once known as Ellen not many rods from the base of the cliff, in a
Bayne, whom you basely led astray and deserted, small circle of rye-grass overhung by conceal-
I am the daughter of the man who but lately at- ing trees, whilst he himself sought this niche
INSTINCT PRINT