Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 104 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

: | : P. —_.* Deadwood Dick’s Device. known to kill half a dozen men in a single brawl, and come out unhurt. Poor encouragement was this for an ordinary mortal to battle with him. And the giant knew that he was universally feared which made him doubly ugly and bother- some. In the middle of the street he now stood, his hat gone and his feet bare, while his cotton shirt was torn into shreds—there in the street he stood, glaring around, in search of some victim upon whom to vent his desire for a fight, for “*sp’ilin’” for a fight he truly seemed to be. Suddenly his eye gleamed with savage exul- tare, as he saw the little actress, Fanny Far- ron, uit astore on the right hand side of the stree. and hurry along in the direction of the theate where she was to play. *“‘K. vhoop! lookee thar, will ye, pilgrims, an’ feas ‘er optics on thet purty little piece o’ caliker, i-goin’ up ther street! Hain’t she scrumptious, though, an’ as purty as ary year- ling pack-mule on ther trail! Make way thar while I chase ther gaudy butterfly, an’ sip ther hunny frum her lips. kiss I'll have, by all ther thunderin’ catamounts, an’ thar’s nary a galoot ’cept ther’Pet Elephant as can have a bite out o’ my cake nuther. Kerwhoop! hayr goes fer a gennywine feast frum thet leetle beehive!” And away pranced the ruffian in pursuit of the actress, at the top of his speed, staggerin from side to side like a rickety wagon, and a the while bellowing at the top of his voice. Pretty Fanny Farron saw in one terrified lance that she was pursued, and turned to flee ut a hand touched her on the arm, and a cool voice said: ** Don’t run, Miss Farron, but stand your ound, and I will teach this fellow the lesson e deserves.” megane 3 4 the actress did not run, but look- ed up to find a stranger standing near—a hand- somely-dressed fellow, with the characteristic coolness in his carriage and face, of a thorough- bred sport. Stalwart was he, and handsomely ee with a blonde head of hair, a londe mustache, and luxuriant side-whiskers of a corresponding hue, while the color of his eyes was somewhat hidden behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. A jaunty Derby hat was perched upon his head; his coat, pants and vest were of spotless duck, the bottoms of his pants being carelessly thrust in the legs of a of spurred cavalry boots. A massive gold chain ornamented his vest front, and in-one white jeweled hand he oe a serviceable riding-whip of braided buck- skin, Up came the bullwhacker, his eyes agleam with triumph, and his thick lips smacking with an Deno ws can gusto for the feast he antici- pated. ‘* Ho! ho! thet’s right, my daisy!” he roared, seizing Fanny by the arm; “‘thet’s her ex- chequer, my daisy! One sweet smack frum them lips—’ He did not finish the sentence, for the Sport seized him by the throat, and with strength he did not apport to possess, hurled him back to the ground. ith a t Beautiful Bill came down hea- vily, and the revolvers he held in his hand went flying far over the heads of the crowd. A moment the giant lay quivering upon the earth—then he scrambled to his feet with a fero- cious growl, as if intent upon the instant anni- hilation of his assailant. But, no sooner did he his feet than the dandy sport proceeded to lay the whip over his head, shoulders and back, rapidly, eve coor the of the little instrument drawing bl surface of the giant’s swarthy skin. In vain did he lunge forward to get a hold upon the Sport, but blow after blow beat him os while terrible howls of pain escaped his ps. And the crowd cheered wildly! CHAPTER V. A DUEL IN THE STREET—DEADWOOD DICK AGAIN, WITH a strong arm did the Sport ply the whip, and in a manner that every blow count- ye 4 raising a bloody streak where the last ck. And in vain did Beautiful Bill seek to escape the little instrument of torture, and to get a hold upon his assailant. But it was one of the efforts impossible. ‘“*Cuss ye! quit! quit!” he roared, in pain, as bleeding in y — or more, he dropped on one knee, unable longer to stand. **When you apologize to that lady, I will let you off!” the Sport said, coolly, as he continued to deliver his unmerciful blows with mechanical regularity. ‘* Yes! yes! I apologize! I apologize, fer insult- in’ ther leddy!” the giant bellowed, in actual agony. ‘Quit! quit, or ye’ll kill me!” ‘*T should be doing the country a great ser- vice, if | were to ont your miserable career!” the Sport said, ‘“‘Get up now and see if you can behave yourself.” And ceasing his castigation, the blonde stran- er stood with whip in hand, gazing coolly at the man he had so thoroughly cowed. Beautiful Bill rose slowly to a standing position, and glared at the Sport, in a savage manner. ** Cuss ye!” he growled, his repulsive features working with rage, and ae an expression of undying hatred—‘‘ cuss ye, I say. ou got the best o’ me in thet tussle, but I’m bound ter have satisfaction, an’ don’ ye fergit it. Beauti- ful Bill am I—ther Pet Elephant o’ ther Lead- ville trail—ther handsum Appollo o’ ther Colo- rados, an’ thar’s nary a galoot a-goin’ ter climb me an’ say he war my conqueror. No, sir-ee, nary a time, and you bet yer leetle ducats on’t. D’ye heer, ye bandbox son of a swill-tub—d’ye heer, Isay? Ye’ve got ter fight me—me, ther eat roarin’ three-horned Pet Elephant o’ ther dville trail!” “Fight?” the Sport said, smiling. ‘‘ Why certainly. I shall be only too happy to accom- modate you. Please to name your weapons, and I am ready.” Beautiful Bill stared. And the crowd cheered! Here was a man just to their liking. Here was a man who was not afraid of the ** Pet Elephant ” of the Leadville trail. The giant was taken aback, at the boom, 9 acceptance of his challenge, for he had confi- dently expected that the cool stranger would back out. ‘* What’s yer name?” he demanded. ‘‘I gin- erally know who I fight with!” - Qh! as to that, a may call me Pacific Pratt, for short!” the Sport replied, coolly. **Come, if you want to constitute the active part of a t-class funeral, just name your tools, and square yourself, in shape. I’ve no time to spend in bandying words with a man of your beastly character!” ‘*Then ye shall get yer stummick full jest as soon as ye want it!” the gone growled. ‘‘ Fer we ain’t a-goin’ ter settle thes yere leetle debate wi’ no revolvers, ner wi’ no toothpicks, but ar’ a-goin’ ter wage fist ag’in’ smeller, an’ smeller ag’in’ fist, until one or t’other ar’ satisfied!” ‘** Which suits me to a dot!” Pacific Pratt an- swered, as coolly asever. ‘‘Couldn’t have met my desires better if you’d ’a’ tried. Get ready, sir, and you shall have the pleasure of testing the friendship of my knuckles in short order!” ‘“‘Kerwhoop! better git ready, yerself!” the giant roared, beginning to strip to the waist. Better write up yer obituary ef ye ain’t pre- pared it aes 6 fer cert’in it is thet ye’re goin’ ter git beauchifully salivated by me, ther great r ’ Pet Elefant o’ ther ville trail—ther A e 0’ rp str srs . ot a reply deigned the rt; he simply dis- carded his duck jacket, and rolled up this aeovbe of his boiled shirt, which displayed as hand- somely developed a pair of arms, as one could ask to see. Then he stood coolly awaiting the motions of the giant bullwhacker, who was strip- ping himself of his shirt. Soon he was ready, and turned to face his op- nent, with the eine of a wild beast in his loodshot eyes. A man of powerful frame was the giant, his bony, knotted breast and ponderous arms quite a curiosity, in their way. Few were there who would have dared to engage with this terror- pocenn bullwhacker as the Sport was about do. Surely, said the crowd, Beautiful Bill would win, and the dandy Sport would go to the ground, a crushed and pummeled mass of hu- manity. How could it be otherwise, when the giant was twice as muscular as the Sport, to all appearances, and superior in weight by a full hundred pounds! Forward surged the crowd to form a ring around the twain, but Pacific Pratt waved them back, authoritatively. ‘* Back! back!” he cried, sternly. ‘Leave the street open, and keep at a distance. You can see just as well, and will greatly accommodate me! This was enough. Willing were the crowd to oblige this sportive individual who had come down among them with “cheek” enough to tackle the Leadville giant, Beautiful Bill. Among the crowd were several lookers-on, ——— who watched with more than ordinary interest, it seemed. They were Calamity Jane, Old Ava- lanche, and the variety actress, Fanny Fa: ron, who stood near the Girl Sport, with an <ager, excited look upon her face. * Jest look at that Sport!” Calamity said, ed- dressing the Annihilator; ‘‘ain’t he serump- shus—ain’t he a regular daisy? An’ ten ti o2.¢ he’ll wax wigwams right out o’ thet big blun- derbus uv a giant.” ‘*Great ham-bone, yes. He’sa fine lukin’ bird, heer. but then ye know fine feathers make fine birds, all except buzzards.” ** Do you not know who that Sport is?” Fanny Farron asked, venturing to address Calamity. “I heerd him give his pronoun as Pacific Pratt!” the Girl Sport replied, coolly, for she cared not to make friends with this actress, whose voice was as musical as the trill of a bird, and whose face and form were attractive to the eye. To Calamity, her presence sug- gested a thought of snakes ! Fanny Farron,if aware of Calamity’s aversion of tone, did not choose to notice it, for she chat- tered on glibly: ‘** Pacific Pratt, eh? Ha! ha! I think I know better than that. I knew the fellow the mo- ment he offered to encounter the giant for me. ‘You did?’ Calamity said, indifferently. “I did!” Miss Farron assured. “I wonder that you have not already recognized him?’ “TI? How?’ and the Girl Sport gazed more keenly at the actress, and then at Pacific Pratt. ‘* What do you mean?” ‘*] cannot explain. If you were sharp at guessing, you needn’t ask?” was the reply, and then the little queen of the variety stage, turn- ed to watch the combat. Nodisgrace was there in this, apparently, for other women had paused in — along—and some of them were Lead- ville’s aristocrats—to watch the contest of skill and strength. Of course there was betting on every hand, and among the supporters of Beautiful Bill Alf Howell, the gambler, was prominent an conspicuous. ‘*A thousand dollars, here, to bet that Reauti- ful Bill punches the bandbox galoot ¢clenn cut of time, and sweeps the street with him!” rear- ed the ugly son of the speculator, as he elbowed his way about through the crowd. “A bull thousan’ ter bet thet ther bullwhacker is ther winner! Who takes it?’ “T reckon Pll take you!” Calamity Jane said, proeopaly producing a wallet that was well ed. ‘* I’m the very customer to grapple such bets as that.” * You?’ Alf Howell ejaculated in amazement. Why, as [ live, it’s a girl in breeches. Say, ae one, hedn’t you better run home to your ma ‘1 think not. I’d rather bet with you, and win. Come! put up or shut up. Avalanche here will hold the stakes for us, I reckon!” ‘* And Pll see fair play!” Fanny Farron said, drawing and cocking a revolver, and stepping nearer. ‘‘ Avalanche must give the stakes to which ever wins.” “Who told you to mix your lip in this con- clave?’ Alf Howell d»manded, savagely. ‘‘ You better mind your business, or I’ Dee the death of you ” “T ain’t afraid of it. You goon and plank your cash, or [ll put a pain through you so quick, you'll believe you ar’ electrotized. Howell deposited, with a savage growl. He had had a notion to back out of the bet, but this unexpected movement on the part of the actress had made it necessary for him to proceed as he had commenced. Calamity also deposited her wager, in the hands of Old Avalanche, and then turned to note the result of the fight, which had now be- Oy the Sport and the giant bad confronted each other, with bared arms and clenched fists, and were sparring—the Sport scientifically, while the giant succeeded only clumsily. Too ponderous was he to be spry, and the Sport warded off his wild lunges, with the greatest of ease, while he occasionally put ina ‘ tester ” upon the giant’s face, with staggering effect, eliciting a cheer from the crowd. No novice was this Pacific Pratt, evidently, if he was a sport. His every movemet was ceful and quick, bis blows were surely planted, and he was never for an instant off his guard, while his eye coolly met that of the giant, without flinching, behind the gold-rim 4 . In vain did the Pet Elephant of the Leadville trail endeavor to grapple with his opponent, in order to crush him in a bear-like hue, but cach GonnGcbooksreot