Beadle's Dime Novels No. 316: Hurricane Bill — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

‘* CORRALED.” 47 dent—a savage, uncivilized ;’ Isidora, “ forward, unmaiden- ly.” But in Mexico they manage these things differently. It is a “Jand of fire’’—and nothing is more inflammable than the hearts of the Mexican women. But there—I will attempt no apology. I give Mustang Sam’s courtship just as it actu- ally occurred, and as “e was: salisfied, surely you need raise no objections. “ Yonder is the corral,” suddenly observed Hur icane Bill, ' without turning his head until he felt assured the asteation of his companions was attracted, “ an’ yonder come the greasers, lickety split. Reckon you’d better let the young lady take a seat ahind me, pard; ’pears like Tornado is a little tired.” “ Not yet, Billy, old boy,” laughed Mustang, bis voice filled with a proud joy. ‘ We've gota long trail afore us—her an’ I—which won’t eend ontel one or both o’ us goes under, an’ I reckon we Cain’t begin it at a better time then now. Isidora, little one, this is my pardner, the best an’ truest heart on the plains—you must love him a little, fer my puke.” ‘ “ So—ho ! that’s the way the cat jumps, then! I knowed it—I felt it in my bones!” laughed Hurricane; but then, in a quiet, serious tone, he added: “ Little one, good luck, an’ God’s blessin’ go wi’ you. You couldn’t ’a’ picked out a truer ‘ or better man then the one as is now a-holdin’ you. He’s the same, come-rain or shine. Ef you cain’t be happy wi’ him, then you're in hard luck. An’ as Sum’ sais, you must like me a little, too, fer be an’ me is pardners—I mought say brothers, we cotton to each other so. But thar—your folks is a-comin’ up fast, an’ I won’t say any more now.” “ Not one word ’bo ut little one’s sister, eh, Hurricane ?” “T reckon it'd sound better said é the. sister,’ laughed Hurricave Bill, his cheek flushing. ‘“ Mebbe I’ll ax little one to put in a good word fer me thar, ef I think that’s any chaince—hello! what’s the matter wi them? What ’re they yellin’ ?”’ The party of horsemen whom the tall scout had first ob- served as they rode rapidly toward the trio, from the corral, Were pow within earshot, and were uttering loud cries, though their words could not be distinguished as yet. A quick . comichooks.com .