Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 1003 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

German Joe, the Hayseed Sport. ing bis partuer’s return to consciousness again. They had bandaged up his head while the phy- sician hastened back to his office after the ne- cessary materials for sewing up the wound, When he returned and performed this delicate | operation it was nearly daylight, and as yet, Joe had received no word from the police. He did not think Dunning would be able to escape when he had been so prompt in giving the alarm, but such certainly seemed to be the case, and leaving bis partner’s bedside, the detective start- ed out in search of their late prisoner. Joe spent the day in searching over the city for the missing man, but by nightfall was obliged to return to the hotel without having discovered any traces of him. The detective had prepared himself for disguises of all sorts, but his search was in vain, and ke soon reached the conclusion that Dunning waseither in hiding in the city or had left it eagly in the day. CHAPTER XVI. THE DEATH OF DUNNING, WE must now return for a short time to the man whom Dunning left handcuffed and raving in bis room at the Valencia Hetel in Junita, Darkin was not a man to let such an insult go unavenged, and when, late in the afternoon, he was released by the hotel-clerk, he went straight to the railroad station. The tieket-agent there told him that a man such as he described had purchased passage on a train to Denver early in the day. ‘‘Gimme a ticket!” said Darkin, savagely, throwing a gold coin upon the small counter in front of the agent’s window. ‘* When does ther next train leave?” ‘* Seven o’clock,” ** An’ what time does it git ter Denver?” ** About twelve o'clock,” And s0, just when Danning was arrested for | the theft of the sachel, Darkin, angry and re- vengeful, left the train at the Denver stesion and inquired his way to the nearest hotel. He was not only imbittered against Dunning for his treatment of him during the day, but felt | that the latter had robbed him of his bonds, which he was now convinced were worth a good dealof money, He had come to Denver to get the sachel back at any cost, and at the sametime to make his enemv suffer for the humiliation he had endured, ‘* T’low I’m a gentleman ef I did take that gold uv bis’n,” he muttered to himself as he strode along the brilliantly-lighted streets, ‘‘ An’bein’ sech, I don’t intend to hev no son-of-a-gun like him treat me in this way. Them papers is mine, an’ more’n likely he knows it. I kin prove thet I hed ’em, an’ thet they wuz stole frum me. Ef no ways else, I reckon thet young feller who took ’em would be willin’ to cum out’n jail fur tellin’ who he giy’’em to, But, what r'iles me most is ther way he talks ter me—jest ez ef ther papers wuz his’n an’ I wuz tryin’ ter bunco him out’n them. Jest wait till Il lay my paws on ther sucker!” Darkin spent much of the night in pondering over the wrongs he had received at Dunning’s bands, and when morning dawned his appear- ance had improved considerably by a bath anda shave, but his temper still simmered hot, He arose in the early morning and took a walk about the city, enjoying the fresh, cool air of Colorado’s healthful climate, but still ruminating over his many grievances and curs- ing the day that bad brought Dunning to Silver- side. He strolled about be gr yer Lim day, ex- am every passer-by in hopes of seeing the Sb joct wt his search, but by nightfall returned to his hotel without having done so. Delay and disappointment did not Jessen his fiery anger ye the man who had wronged him, and in the evening he set out again upon his quest, t was nearly midnight, when, happening to enter a gambling-house in a retired part of the city, he heard a familiar voice address the pro- B etor of the place, who stood guard near the oor, ‘Don, I lost five thousand dollars here about a month ago; do you remember it?” ‘Yes; I recall your face, and recollect that you did play high occasionally. Why?” ‘Nothing, except that I am dead-broke, I haven't a cent to get a square meal with, and I hag to leave town. If you could let me havea “Why, old m ’ an, of course I will. You a play the bank if you haven't got the 8 . Don reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a wallet bulging with greenbacks, as the other replied: ee Z I did have the stamps then—they’re gone ngw. * Well, I’m very sorry, and hope this will help you. If it don’t, let me know of it, and I will try to get youa job. My brotheris running a | newspaper here, and he may want a man, Good- | by. Don’t put that money on a faro-table, and it may get you out of the hole.” **] sha’n’t, Don, and if lever get on my feet | again, ’'ll return it. It’s a small sum, I know, | but it is enough to— Why, Don, it’s a hundred- | dollar bill!” But Don bad disappeared up the narrow stair- way, and the man turned away with the bill in his hand and words that came near to being a blessing trembling on his lips. He turned about and walked into the almost deserted street, shrinking back in alarm when he felt a hand laid heavily on his shoulder. ** Dunning!” ** Darkin!” The two stared into eaeh other’s eyes, the one | trembling in the angry and determined grasp of the other. | ‘** How did you happen to leave Junita?” asked | Dunning, trying to keep his voicesteady. “*‘ Why | didn’t you go back to Silverside?” ‘** Because I wanted yo’—an’ them papers. Whar’ be they ?” **They were stolen!” ** From you?”, ar | ‘When? | ‘“* Last night in the Weldon House,” | “*T don’t believeit. Yo’r’ lyin’ so’s to git rid 'uv me, But yo’ won’t—I’m a-goin’ to hev them | papers an’ then I’il settle my leetle grudge with | you,” ‘* But I tell. you they were stolen.” ** Then cum with me to this Weldon House an’ prove it.” “I can’t,” gasped Dunning. | dare go there,” __ “IT thought yo’ wuzn't tellin’ ther truth. Now I want them papers, an’ no more foolin’ | about it.” ‘*T hav’n’t got— one will see you!” “I won’t do it. Ef yo’ don't tell me whar thet sachel is, I’m a-goin’ to shoot yo’ right | hyer an’ now.” The angry, earnest tones of the man rung faintly in Dunning’s ears, a kind of numbness and weakness stole over him and he staggered —— ee ee ee, a ee ee “© T wouldn’t Put up that pistol or somes | against the side of the building. **Don't,” be murmured faintly. “I’ve got another one—of those attacks—call some one!” Darkin looked at him watchfully. ** None uv yer foolin’, I ain’t a-goin’ to stand no noasense hyer jest—hol’ on, stan’ up!’ Dunning sunk down to the sidewalk with a low sigh, blood issuing from between his white, closed lips, Dakin gazed at him in astonishment and then rushed intoa saloon near by tosummon help, W hen he returned, he found a man bending over the almost unconscious form of his late adver- sary, and trying to get him to speak, In spite of the partial disguise, Darkin recognized the new-comer as German Joe and then sneaked off in the darkness, which, as it hid him from the detective’s view, takes him from our further attention. ([t may be said, however, that, after much argument, Casey accepted his return to partnership in the ** Whitehouse,” retaining for himself, however, the right to taunt bim occasionally for his lack of pte in ever leaving such a paying con- cern Dunning was dying! It did not take Joe long to discover this fact after he had come across the body in one of Denver’s most deserted streets, The detective folded his coat and laid it under the man’s head just as several came from the saloon in response to Darkin’s alarm. ** Dunning,” said Joe, ‘‘can you hear me?” “Yes,” very buskily answered the dying “Did you take the money from Schlerger?” “cc Yes, ? ** And kill him?” ‘* Yes,” still more faintly. ‘* God rest my—” He was dead! The detective assisted the b ders in re- moving the body to the saloon, which place it was presently taken to the nearest under- taker’s, at Joe’s request, Then the detective returned to the Weldon House, and finding bis partner resting comfort- ably, and able to bear the shock, Joe told him the story of Dunning’s death. **Poor fool,” said Keen, ‘‘He might better wR | ‘going Hast. ’a’ stayed hyer. Mebbe he wouldn’t ’a’ died then.” ‘* Perhaps not,” answered Joe, a little absent- ly. ‘*I reckon we’ve finished this case now. How long before you will be able to go East?” ‘* Me—go East?” ** Certainly.” ** What far?” ** You are going to go in partnership with me, are you not? Wework very well together in this business, and I know Byrnes will give you an appointment to his staff when he hears what you fave done out here,” ' Yo’ think so?” **T know ita” **Wa-al, m:bbe I'd better try it, I reckon it’s better’n this no-accountlifeouthyer. But when er yo’ goin’ ter New York?” ‘Just as soon as you get so that you can travel,” ** Yo’ ain’t a-goin’ to wait fur me?” ** Of course,” ** But thet money an’ ther will; what'll yo’ do with them? Hadn’t they orter go to New York?” **1'll send: them back with the detectives I telegraphed for the other day. They will prob- ably come in this afternoon.” ‘An’ air’ yo’ goin’ back to Placer Ranch? Yo’d orter go over ter see the boys, an’ tell ’em how everything’s turned out. Little Pete ’u'd be tickled to death.” ‘*T was just thinking of it. I guess I’ll make my report in writing now, and send it to New York with the sachel and will. That will finish up the case, and then [ll go over to Placer . Ranch to spend the night, Ill be back te morrow.” The detective did so, and late in the afternoon started for Placer Ranch, It was a long and tiresome journey, but he felt interested in the welfare of his friends in the little mining-town, and determined to see them once more before He reached Little Pete’s about daybreak, and found the inmates of the ‘‘ Golden Garter ” just getting up. Little Pete himself had only just recovered from the wound he had received in the raid upon the ‘‘ Badgers’ Nest,” and received the d tective with open arms, : : ‘* Here’s ther Dutchman!” he shouted, rushing from behind the bar to grasp the detective’s hand, ‘* We've been a-hearing ’round hyer thet yo’ wuz a detective a-chasin’ thet man in Silverside fer murderin’ some one out East, but we didn’t low you'd be back ag’in. Nick Goodloe’s been a-tellin’us about you an’ Keen, an’ we buried Limpy Dick yist’day. Nick’s reformed, I kin tell yo’, an’ jest as soon ez his arm gits in sha he’s a-goin’ to work. The gal has got back, lookin’ jest as pretty as she did afore, and ther colonel’s a-goin’ ter start East to-day.” Little Pete rattled on, giving the detective all the news, and at the same time filling a score of glasses for the party of men now collected about the bar! ‘“« Here yo! go!” he shouted, raising a bottle in the air. ‘* Drink to the life an’ health uv ther = rt—thet wuz.” oe smiled, and asked how Dacy was. “‘He kin answer fur himself, I reckon,” said that individual, whom the detective had not noticed in the crowd, ‘‘ I’m well enough to lay out thet man who called me a thief. har did yo’ leave ’im?” Joe told the story of his search, of the man’s capture, escape and final death, and of Kid Keen’sinjury. The crowd listened attentively, and each man crowded forward to shake his hand when he left the saloon. ; ** P’ll go over and call on Colonel Denmore,” he said at parting. ‘‘ Good-by, boys iy ““Good-by, Dutchy!” they yelled, waving their a over their heads as he galloped down the CHAPTER XVII, CONCLUSION, A FEW days later, a party of half a dozen persons were sitting together in the parlor car of a train flying eastward. Joe Winthrop stood leaning over the back of Grace Denmore’s chair, pointing out of the window at some bits of pretty scenery, but more frequently glancin down at the beautiful face of the —— irl, still pale and wan from the effects of her terrible rience in Silverside, id Keen reclined, at full length, yy a cushioned couch, near by, alent sok part in the espeps conversation, He had just offered to play a game of penny-ante with the portet of the car, who had confided to the scout - is ability to play that fascinating game. But in the absence of a pack of cards this was im- cbool 7 AY e. aa C oO ~ ? < a ‘ . rs