Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 1032 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

Cowboy Chr dat wur butted offen de bridge by de bull, I hab been run ober by de steam cayars an’? blowed all toe flinters by a po’der-mill ’splosion. I don’ mine a little fing lek dis at all. Dow ention bit, sar—don’ mention bit!” And thus peace was restored between them. ‘Two minutes later, they marched up to the bar together, Meantime, Cowboy Chris had been examin- | ing his comrade’s injury. ‘*He has got it bad, poor fellow!” he mul- tered, shaking bis head, soberly. ‘* Thet’s er fac’,” agreed Round-up Rube. ‘1 reckon ther boy hes roped his last steer.” With a keen Inife, Chris swiftly cut away the ¢lothing over the bleeding wound, ‘Fle is still alive, but the ball must have passed near his heart.” ‘**An inch ur so above. through his lef’ lung,” ‘*Some one go for a doctor!” cried Chris, ** Find Bob Bitters and bring him here lively! This man is dying!” . Two or three who had ventured back iuto the saloon promptly darted out at the door. ‘* How in blazes kem you hyer, boy?” asked the bow-lerged cowboy, as he assisted Chris in *tanching the flow of blood, ‘* Looking after you, Pard Rube, There are a dozon of ths boys in town, but L reckon Jim- son aud I were the only ones who came in here, It’s gone clean The otners will bustle in when they learn what. bas bappened.” **'Y e’d best let me run; I’d turned up ter-mor- rer ur next day. Now pore Jim’s got his eter- mal dost.” ‘* Some of the boys who were over the first of the week said you were on a holy jamboree, We didn’t know but you would get wild and try to take the town, It was voted to look out for you. Rube, Rube! have you forgotten your. promise?” The older cowboy hung his head with shame, ‘*No, [ hain’t fergot it, lad,” he finally con- fessed; “‘ but thet thar devilish hankerin’ got holt o’ me, an’ I jest c’u’dn’t seem to throw it off, { ted ter let off steam ur bu’st my b’iler wide open!” ‘* That ic 3 poor excuse, Rube, You see your dove of drink has caused Jack’s death,” ‘* How’s thet, lad?” gasped the old cattleman, in amazement, . *““If you had not been here, we should not have come after you. If we had not come after you, Jack would not have been here to catch the ‘Dullet intended for me,” Round-up Kube looked horrijied and astound- ed, Finally, he muttered: ‘Holy cats! Thev’s er fac’! Great jizzling Moses! This isther wu’st! Waal, I’m blowed!” He stared down into Jimson’s white an ghastly face for a few moments, and then,he said solemnly and earnestly, without a thought of preeoy: ** I hope [ may be etarnally damned ef I ever tetcb another drap o’ ther cussid devil’s broth!” Cowboy Chris beld out his hand. ‘‘Put it there, pard! I, too, have seen enough of its ipfernal work. I hope God will give you strength to keep your pledge,” And above the body of their now softly moan- ing comrade they clasped hands, ‘* But, Coris, boy,” said Rube, “wat wuz it as knocked ye out so ye lost ther drap an’ "lowed ther p’ison skunk ter git a crack at ye from his pocket?” The young cowboy started and stared search- dngly around the room. ‘It was that young man who spoke my name,” he explained. “If that was not Fred Antbrop, it must have been his ghost!” ‘*He ‘lowed ter me thet his name wuz Walker.” The appearance of Bob Bitters, the ‘** doctor,” interrupted further conversation. boys followed the physician into the saloon, baving heard of their comrade’s misfortune, Uader Bitters’s direction, the wounded man was lifted and laid on several deal-tables, which had been pushed together, The doctor shook his head as he looked at the wound, ‘* Mighty bad!” he mumbled, producing a small leather case of instruments, chow! Regler finisher! Tough case!” The wounded man opened bis eyes and gazed around him in a dazed manner, still moaning His comrades gathered near, pity faintly. vii ten on their weather-beaten faces, Fur several moments Bob Bitters bent over the unfortunate fellow, examining the wound and tracing the course of the bullet. Finally ia straightenéd up, a settled look on his florid ace, “ow is it?” asked Jimson, in « husky Several cow- ‘* Small whisper, kin I stan’ it?” **Mebbe an hour,” was the replp, less,” ‘¢ Mebbe CHAPTER V., A STRANGE SCENE IN THE SALOON, AT this announcement the assembled cowboys, of which there were now about a dozen, showed much more emotion than did the doomed man himself, Round-up Rube grated out something that sounded like a bitter curse, driving the clinched fist of his rigbt hand into the open | palm of his left, as if be were dealing a death blow. Chris turned his face away, his eyes sud- denly growing dim with a thick mist, Jimson, next to Chris, had been the favorite on the Robinson Ranch, He was a mild man who never quarreled when he could avoid it and who had often succeeded in making peace between others who wereenemies, As the cow- punchers expressed it, he was ‘‘square as er brick an’ white ez whitewash.” Despite his peaceable inclinations, he was known to be a brave man who never sbirked a duty, and these virtues had made him respected and loved by his rough companions, ‘*Tt’s all right, pards,” assured Jimson, speak- ing ina lowtone, ‘I reckon my time hes come an ther Great Boss hes seen fit ter call me off duty. He looks atter us pore human critters, an’ I hain't ther boy ter kick erg’in’ w’at He "lows is best.” Bob Bitters called for bandages and again dressed the wound as well as was possible, say- ing as he finished: ‘‘Tbet'll give ye thirty minutes more, Best I kin promise.” Then be walked away toward the bar, Jimson Jifted bis hand and motioned for his comrades to approach closer, ‘‘] cun’t speak very loud, pards,” he smiled, his voice sounding husky. ‘I’m mighty tired somehow. But J’m goin’ ter hev er good long rest,” Some of the rude fellows choked in the strug- gle to keep back their tears, Many of those who fled from the saloon a short time before bad returned, Quite a crowd collected around the tables on which the dying man lay. It was nothing unusual fora man to be shot or stabbed to death in Hot Hole, but for some reason, Jimson’s case seemed an exception. He had been slain by the bullet intended for an- other man. As if by general though unuttered agreement, those within the saloon moved about cautiously and spoke in subdued tones, ‘*Pards, [want ter shake with ye all afore I go,” said the dying cowboy, ‘* You hev bin good pards ter me an’I bain’t got ary feelin’ ag’in’? none of ye. If ary man hes any feelin’ ag’in’ me, [want ter know it now, so we kin make it all right, fer ef we ever meet in ther Great Hereafter, we want ter meet with all ole scores settled.” “Thar hain’t northin’ any one ou’d hey ag’in’ ye, Jimmy boy,” assured Round-up Rube, ‘You needn’t woorry abont thet,” The dying man took Rube’s hand, ‘© You've allus bin white, Rube,” he declared, ‘Bf its possible an’ I’m lucky ernough ter go whar L{ kin, I’ll speak a good word fer you,” The bow-legged cowboy suddenly broke down and sobbed as only astrong mancan, Heclung to bis comrade’s hand, vainly trying to say some- thing which his emotion would not allow. Finally, he lifted Jimson’s fingers tc his bearded li s, re I tell ya it’s all right, pard,” murmured the dying cowboy. ‘‘I hain’t makin’ no kick,” ‘But I wuz all ther ¢ use o’ it!” groaned Rube, when he could fina expression, ‘ Pll never fergive myself! An’ thet onery, murder- ous card-sharp—” He stopped sharp, a black cloud settling over his face, as he dashed the tears aside with his sleeve, One by one, the cowboys took Jimson’s hand. He had a parting word for them all, and the tears trickled silently down the face of more than one time-hardened man, Cowboy Chris came last. Jim grasped the young man’s hand with both of his, ‘‘ Chris,” he whispered, “I dunno jest why it is, but TJove ye. You hev allus bin a faverite ever sence Rube brought ye ter ther ranch. Al) tber boys set by ye, an’ thar hain’t one but ’d die fightin’ fer ye. You're white ter ther core, an’ you area bull man ef thet bair on yer Bppe lip bain’t very long. You’re natbin’ but er oy, an’ I’m anole man, Ef ary ove hed ter go, I’low I wuztber one, It wuz better fer me ter stop ther lead then fer you. My voice is git- tin? mighty weak, lad.” } ‘Tell me ther truth, Doc, how long | is, the Man of Caliber. 7 5 _——- ee Se ee wee ee eee —— SS --_— Chris bent over the sinking man, and Jimsen succeeded in passing one arm over the young man’s neck, ‘* Pard,” Jimson went on, ** [ want ter see ye at ther Great Round-up. I want ter see all ther boys thar. I don’t reckon it’s goin’ ter be ther end of me wen I die, but I’m mighty shore thar’s suthin’ arter death. God never putt us hyer jest ter live this wretched short life an’ then die an’ thet be ther eend of us, My ole mammy learned me thet, an’ though she’s bin in her grave thirty year, I hain’t fergot it, God bless her!” He paused to rest a moment, then continued, slowly: ‘¢] hain’t got nary kin ter hev w’at [ve got, an’ I’m goin’ ter guv it all ter you. Ther bank book’s in my inside pocket, an’ I want all ther boys ter witness I make you my legal heir. Do ye witness, boys?” ‘‘ We witness,” was the general response, ‘‘Thet’s all, lad,” gasped Jimson. ‘I’m so tired!” He closed his eyes for a few seconds, and every man breathed softly till he opened them again, ‘‘ Jim,” said Chris, as steadily as he could, ‘what about the dog that shot you?” ‘* Vengeance is mine, saith ther Lord!” ‘‘Tm goin’ to see that he gets his just de- serts,” declared Chris. ‘* He shall not escape!” The dying man, with a great effort, threw off the stupor that was overcoming him. ‘* Chris, boy!” he gasped. ‘* You mus’n’t hev his blood on yer band! Ef ther law can’t do ther work, leave it ter God.” ‘* He shall have a fair trial, if we can capture him, But, if he resists, we may have to snuff him out. We will give him a show.” ‘* Bat, itll be a cussed small show!” grated Round-up Rube, in an aside. Once more Jimson sunk into a state of silence that seemed like death, His face was drawn and ghastly. After two or three minutes, he opened his eyes and looked around, then his lips moved, but Chris was obliged to bend over him to hear the words, ‘* Hoe wants somebody to sing,” explained. the young cowboy, as he straightened up. } Pete, the darky, pushed his way into the circle, **T will sing fo’ him,” he said, softly, tears in his eyes. The negro struck a few low chords on bis banjo, then, to a mellow accompaniment, sung in a subdued tone the darky melody of ** Swin Low, Sweet Chariot.” It was the stranges scene ever enacted in that den of gambling and iniquity. Men who had never before shed a tear since childhood wept softly as Pete’s gently chanted song reached their beart and soothed the dying momeats of the cowboy. **T looked ober Jordan, an’ w’at did I see, Comin’ fo’ to keri y me home? A ban’ ob angels comin’ arter me— Comin’ fo’ to kerry me bome, Reing low, sweet chariot, comin’ fo’ to kerry me ome}; . Swing low, ‘sweet chariot, comin’ fo’ to kerry me ome, Aho 4 x git dar befo’ I do— ‘omin’ fo’ to kerry me home, Tell all my friens’ I'm comin’ too— Comin’ fo’ to kerry me,home wing, low, sweet chari t, comin’ fo’ to kerry me 10Me ; wtickee low, sweet chariot, comin’ fo’ to kerry me 1iome, And as Pete sung, the soul of the dying man passed peacefully away, wafted on the wings of song into the dim aisles of the dead, “He is gone!” solemnly anvounced Chris, peering into Jimson’s pale face. The tall form of Old Rattlebrain pushed its way through the throng and entered the circle, ‘* Let us pray,” said the strange man—* let us pray to the Almighty God above,” He knelt down, and every cowbov followed his example, bowing their uncovered heads, Toen a strange sound arose within the saloon of that wild New Mexican mining-camp—the sound of a voice in prayer! Seldom is a more eloquent and touching prayer heard than that uttered by the mysterious man of the San Juan valley. It formed the climax of the strangest scene ever witnessed in Hot Hole. When the prayer was finished, every cowboy said ‘* Amen!” then they arose and stood around the silent form of their comrade, ‘‘ Brothers,” came solemnly from Old Rattle- brain’s bearded lips, ‘* before you you see the end of this wretched existence. That is what weare all coming to, Beyond that no man can look, God alone knows tif secret of Etervity.” | : : The i¥, er \ a" 4 “ Woe - i é ’ 74 A — ? J ’ wh ) . 4 ~¢ , oh = + 2 or's _ w ah 4 A + * ‘ ; -,’ , ’ >, _ 4 ‘a } : a VV m ‘eepiays Pari | i ae ; ae ihe aa Ee | ; ; 4 , VJ 5 . w y * . 9 ab 7 ae 2 ‘a if 4" -* “ee mM