Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 1106 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

| od i Nevada Ned, the Revolver Ranger. in the State of Pennsylvania, and the time | twenty-five years ago. A stern-faced, impatient teacher, a man of fifty, sat like a monarch on his throne, before two-score of children, boys and girls, who trembled at his slightest nod or word. Some one had, during recess, gone to the mas- ter’s desk and spilled the ink over his books and yapers, and coming in suddenly a boy of ten, Bonnie Brookes, a cripple, had been seen with ink-covered hands and handkerchief, but had denied being the culprit. The master had called the school to order, had gotten his bunch of switches ready, and was going to belabor Bennie, when Ned Oliver arose in his seat and made the daring and manly request that opens this story. ‘* Did you doit, sir?’ sternly asked the teacher. ‘‘No, sir, and I don’t believe Bennie did; but I'll take the licking for him.” The manhood of tue teacher should have been touched by this, but it was not; he was not that kind of a man, and smiling grimly, he said; ‘¢ Allright, sir; if you wish it Pll gratify you.” Ned promptly walked up to the *' mourner’s bench,” as the scholars called the-seat before the teacher, and waited. ‘Take off your jacket, sir.” It was cast aside quickly, while Bennie Brookes cried out: ‘‘ Master,-I didn’t do it, sir, I declare to you, and cross my heart, 1 didn’t; but please don’t whip Ned, sir—please don’t!” The teacher was merciless, and he heeded not the pleading of the little cripple, but said: ‘So you wish me to whip. you instead of Ben- nie Brookes?” Yeu, ar.” pe ge | responded Ned. “T will do it,” and with a grim smile the bunch of switches fell upon the shoulders of the brave boy. He was pale, for he knew well that the man gave no gentle whipping to a scholar; but two- score pair of eyes were upon him, some older by several years than he was, and he was determin- ed to keep up his reputation for courage. He flinched under the heavy blows—who would not have done sof—but he did not move from his tracks, Poor Little Bennie Brookes buried his face in his hands and wept bitterly, seeming to feel the cruel blows more than did the recipient. The red stains soon showed through the shirt, convincing proof that the teacher was deter- mined to make the lad cry for mercy: but Ned stood the severe ordeal bravely, though his face was livid, and his features writhed with pain ‘* Now, sir, for daring to Ker between me and my just punishment to another, I have given you a lesson you will ren;iaber,” fiercely cried the master, and thes he turned to Bennie Brookes, and said: ~ “Tal off your jacket.” ve {0 sinh cots to whip Bennie too?” cried Ned. ic I am.” ‘“You whipped me for him, master, and you must not touch poor Bennie, for he’s lame and mustn’t be burt.” “Go to your seat, sir, or Vil trounce you again!” yelled the teacher, and then he sprung toward Bennie. But, quick as a flash, Ned turned, threw out his foot, and tripped the man, who fell heavily, striking his head against a bench, and lay there motionless. “Oh! Ned, youhave killed him!” was the cry that arose in a chorus of voices. ‘Run, Ned! run!” yelled a large boy. ‘¢ Yes, Ned, run and _ hide, or they will hang you! Please go!’ cried Bennie Brookes; and Ned stood an instant gazing at the motionless form of the teacher, and then, alarmed at the words, ‘they will hang you!” he bounded out of the door like a flash, and disappeared in the forest beyond. CHAPTER IJ. THE BOY FUGITIVE, Nep OLIVER lived with relatives in a thinly- settled part of Pennsylvania, being adopted by them as their child; he had been Hrought up upon a farm, doing chores about the place and tad attending the country school nearly two miles distant from where he lived. He was a handsome, golden-haired boy, with expressive blue eyes, and a slender, wiry frame, capable of the greatest endurance. e had become noted as a lucky fisherman and a rifle-shot, and was wont to pick squirrels out of the tops of the highest trees with a rifle that an uncle had given him, As he was seldom seen without this favorite weapon, he won the name of Rifle Ned, | ; ‘ } A noble-hearted boy, he often carried the | teacher presents of game and fish, and did many little acts of kindness for him, while always willing to study, and bright-witted, he gave no cause of complaint, except in cases of extreme mischievousness, for Ned loved mischief at all, times, When the teacher turned upon him that day, it was a surprise to all the scholars; but then the master was in ill-humor and wished to vent it on some one, so Ned had to suffer. Flying from the school-room, believing that the master had been killed by his fall, Ned took to the forest, which he knew well. Until dark he remained in its recesses, and then he cautiously made his way home. He had no intention of giving himself up to be hanged, as he believed he would be, but he also had no thought of going away without his trusted rifle. So Ned meant to make a bold stroke to get it. His room was in the attic of the old farm- house, and a large tree growing near spread its protecting branches far over upon the roof. ‘* T can elimb the old tree, get on the roof and thus creep in through the dormer window into my room.” So he stole up to the house several hours after sunset, : All was quiet there, for the family retired early, as he knew, and up tae tree he went, out upon the limb, and thence to the roof without even disturbing the watch-dog., As he reached the dormer window he paused and listened,fearing that some one might be with- in, expecting that he would enter the house, and catch him. But all was silent within and softly he en- tered. He knew where the tallow candle stood, and lighted it. His room had not been troubled, for there stood his rifle in the corner, and bis ammunition hung near. A small revolver, which he had bought with his own savings, was on the shelf, and quickly did Ned rig himself out in his hunting costume, put the weapon in his belt, and with his blanket rolled up tightly, strap it to his back. His haversack, in which he was wont to carry game and lunch, he also took with him, and taking an old soft hat, for he had left his at the school-house, he was ready to start. Then he wrote on a piece of paper, with a pencil, the following: ‘*Gaod-by all, for I am gone away. ‘*T did not mean to kill the teacher, and am awful sorry; but I did not want him to whip poor Bennie. ‘* Don’t look for me, for you can’t find me. **Ngep.”’ Having left this farewell letter on the table, he slipped out of the window, crept along the roof, and descended to the ground by way of the tree. The large Newfoundland watch-dog suddenly came bounding toward the boy, with a yelp of joy, and, in spite of all he could do, Ned could not make him go back, ‘* Well, Turk, if you will go I can’t help it, and I'm awful glad to have you, for you are my do anyway; but let us go to the milk-house art see what we can get to eat.” The milk-house was over the spring, and Ned knew that he would find plenty to eat there, and, as it was never locked, he had no difficulty in gaining entrance. Turk was given a good supper, and Ned ate a hearty meal, for he was hungry, and then he stowed away cold meats,a pie and a couple of loaves of bread in his haversack. ‘‘Now we must be off, Turk,” and the boy started on his flight from home, the dog trotting close at bis heels. He had already formed his plan of action, which was to go to the home of his bachelor uncle, who lived in the West, the same who had given him his rifle. He had about seventeen dollars with him, the little money hs had saved up, from the sale of game, and for work he had done on extra time, and so he felt quite rich. So through the forests, and over the hills Ned trudged along, Turk wondering at the long tramp, but keeping close by his master’s side, At daylight Ned was fifteen miles away from home, and very tired and sleepy, so he shot a bird, dressed it, built a fire, and after breakfast went into camp in a secluded nook, It was noon before he awoke and then he set out on his way once mere, avoiding the high- ways, which he knew well, and keeping along the country lanes and across the fields. When night came he rested a couple of hours, i EEE TT ate supper, and with Turk, still greatly wonder- ing, sought the public road and pushed on once more. Thus the brave boy held on his way for three — is bread was gone and he had only game to depend upon, so he determined to seek some country store and replenish bis larder, One was soon found, and bere Ned bought a piece of bacon, a frying-pan, tin cup, some coffee, crackers, sugar and salt, and a hatcLet. Thus equipped he set out once more, telling the man who had questioned him, that be was going to visit relatives in another State. After a two weeks’ tramp, through storm and sunshine, by night and day, never entering a house, and avon mankind all in his power, Ned reached a railroad station and made inqui- ries as to a ticket to the western State where bis uncle lived. He found that his finances would not carry him there, if he bought a ticket, and the kind- hearted station-agent told him his brother was a conductor on a through freight train, and he would ask him to give him a lift. This he did, and Ned reached a point where he had money enough to buy a ticket through te the little town where his uncle dwelt. It was just nightfall, three weeks after his leaving home, that the Boy Fugitive walked up to his uncle’s house. He saw white-covered wagons camped near, with horses and mules staked out, and about several fires were a number of men gathered. Ned was frightened, for in the enormity of his act his first thought was: ‘“Tney are looking for me.” But tired out, sorrowing, wretched and penni- less, having eaten his last morsel, and with the faithful Turk growing very thin and careworn, he was almost desperate, so walked boldly up to the door and asked: “Ts Captain John Oliver here?” ‘‘T am John Oliver, my lad,” said a handsome man, rigged out in top-boots, broad hat and a corduroy suit. = am Ned, Uncle John,” said the boy, tim- idly. * By Jupiter! but-you are, and right glad am I to see you, lad. “But what are you doing out here? Ah! I can guess, for I received word from home that you had skipped, thinking you had killed the old schoolmaster, but in packing up to go West I had forgotten it.” ‘‘ Didn’t I kill him, Uncle John?” eagerly ask- ed Ned. ‘*No. The old fellow struck his head against a bench, they wrote me, and was stunned; but all say you did right. ‘* Now, tell me, how did you get here?” But Ned was so overcome with joy to find be had not kiiled the teacher that he burst into tears. ‘*Come, lad, you are tired out and have had & hard time of it, as both you and your dog show; but you are all right now, for I am going out to Nevada; join this train which starts tomorrow, and you shall go with me, for 1 have several horses, one small one that will just suit you, and I'll make a miner out of you.” And his uncle kept his word, for the next day Ned was bound for the far-away Territory, the name of which he now bears. CHAPTER IIL. THE BOY TRAILER. In the long trip over the prairies and moun- tains of the far West, Ned had every opportunity to learn just what a life on the plains was, In those days the Indians were frequently found to be on the war-path, and fights were of- ten had with them, with victory on the side of the trainmen, There were rivers to cross, obscure trails to fcllow, canyons to get over and through, with mountains to climb where four teams would be put to one wagon to draw it up to the summit, while the descents were often so steep that the wheels behind had to be locked, and men with a 45 had to hold back upon it. uffaloes were sighted and chased, herds of elk would dcx and afford sport in shooting, and about the camps at night wild beasts, such as mountain lions, bears and wolves, were fre- quently seen. Ned was perfectly delighted with his life on the march, and he had ome the particular pet of old Spitfire Pete, the guide and hunter of the train. Old Pete was given the prefix of Spitfire to his name on account of bis ugly disposition and stinging remarks, ; He never had a pleasant word for any one, 1% was said, was silent unless spoken to, and if any - . € tte Fag in md JOOKS.com _—-