Beadle's Dime Novels No. 316: Hurricane Bill — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

| ae “HURRICANE BILL, savages as the missiles whistled through the air above and around him, not one even brushing his garments or touching a hair of gaunt buck-skin, who was now stretching out like a full-blooded racer entering the home-stretch. As Hurricane Bill dashed up in front of the stand on which were kneeling the pale and terror-stricken women, he uttered a shout of encouragement, just as the Mexicans, head- ed by Don Munez and Luis rode around the corner, “ Give ’em glory!’ yelled Hurricane, as he turned aside to prevent a collision. “Tl be wi’ you soon ’s I kin load up. "Member you're fightin’ fer more’n life now—its fer your wimmen !” With these words he circled around, defily removing the empty cylinders and replacing them with two others, already loaded and capped, which he took from his pocket. “Strike home, men—strike for our women—not an Apache shall touch them while one of us can lift a hand in their de- fense !” thundered Munez, as he discharged his escopette, the bullet lodging in the breast of the foremost mustang, who fell, with an almost human scream of agony, pth its dusky rider far over its head. “Sock it to ’em, sperts—work ’er up lively !” Kowtea Mus- tang Sam, as Tornado carried him like a flash into their midst. ‘ Whoo-oop! hyars yur high-muck-a-muck from Bit- ter Crick—the squealin’ painter of Stinkin’ river— the untamed galoot as grows fat on powder-soup an’ lead chow-chow— whoo-oop !” -Bareheaded, a reckless smile upon his handsome features, a revolver in his left hand, the other clasping a heavy bowie- knife, Mustang Sam daaued down upon the Apaches as though utterly careless of life. Their arrows hurtled harmlessly past him—but they had not time to notch a second shaft ere he was upon them, his revolver vomiting forth \ death, his bowie-knife cutting the air in swift circles as Tornado earried him into the very midst of the enemy. And the noble stal- lion tore at the mustangs with his strong, white teeth, and struck out at them viciously with his fore feet, clearing a path for himself with wonderful celerity. And now the bold rider sways quickly in the saddle as a gleaming lance-point almost brushes his breast, and Catching the shaft under his comiclbooks.com