Beadle's Dime Novels No. 213: Squatter Dick — page 13: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A CHANGED MAN. 15 Presently, quick, heavy strokes were heard, then a slight crash, followed by other blows. “At length the noise ceased; and Laflin appeared-in the live clearing, bearing in lis land a roughly-hewn slab of wirite pine, Approaching the grave, he sut down, and begaw trimming the slab with ‘his hanting- knife. When this) was done: to his-satisfaction, he placed the board across his*knees and.began earving the name of his mother and sister, together with the date and thei: ages: Then upom the reverse side he cut in Jargecharacters the. letters; M: M. Le and 8., one below the cilier... Removing the stopper from the»ox-hern, containing powder, that he carried) under his right arm, he poured the contents into the palm of his left hand. ‘Then moistening it, he rhbbed the mixture into» the names of his murdered kindred, until they shone clear and distinct upon the wliite plank... 8 002 i te » Again he left the clearing, this time remaining longer than before, taking with him both his rifle and ax.. When he returned he bore a ’possum:in lis hand.: Killing the ani: mal with his kuife, he filled the four letters: M: M, L. and 5) with the blood, and let it stand in the grooves tosaturate.! | “Mat Keedy, thet ‘blood :is a sign o’ the: death you an’ your precious brothers has got to die. Those letters hasqot to be kep’ fresh an’ cl’ar,an’ ils your heart’s blood as-must do it... Yours an’ the other three. Dick Laflin said it an’ sw’ars wit. ifiia” bar “bios S39NG OF sieoye jit OIL oi apicw _“Towas @ man afore you did this, an’ couldn’t no° more shoot down a body without. ] gin: Liny warnin’, in a fu'e shake to flax me, ef so be he was smart enough, ’n I could fly. But now; it ‘pears’ like [ »wasn’t Dick Laflin no more I don’t feel like he usen to. My heart burns like a coal o’ fire—fire ’at nothin’ but blood’ll squinch. Jt burns so’t I can sca’cely think, an’ my head seems all in a whirl. “Tt usen to do me good to think o’ mother an’ pritty Sally, it kinder put my heart to sleep, like, an’ cl’ared out all the bad idees, ‘cept sometimes when I's drunk an’ half crazy. But now, when I try to think thet away, I cain’t. The thoughis thet usen to come so free an’ nateral, like, is all gone. All I can think about is you bloody hell-houngs, an’ somethin’ in- side hyar,” tapping himself upon the breast, “’pcars to be a hollerin’ fer vingince on the dogs as murdered my folk. . . LZ, * Comic oooks.CGonn