Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 129 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

=" -_—- ye shake Dickey, fer myself. I’m a good sort ©’ pilgrim, an’ hev tuk a notion thet ye’d make a fine arnament ter my shanty. Tharfore, when ye’re ready, we'll go over an’ get mar- ried, at Blind-Man’s mine,” “No! we will not!” Edith declared. ‘You've entirely miscalculated, if it was your plan to come here and frighten me, for I’m not a bit scared.” ‘‘Oh! you ain’t, eh?’ Carleton grunted, ad- miringly. ‘‘ Well, ye’re a spunkey little piece, an’ all the more valuable for it. yer togs, an’ prepare to go along with me.” ‘*Don’t stand there waiting until I do,” Edith returned, coolly. “And by the way, if you value your anatomy very highly, I sould advise you to pull out, lively, before I set my dog on you.” ‘*Ts he savage?” “You probably will find out, if you don’t take leg-bail, for security. Daggers, do you see eg ne How would you like to chaw im?{ Cum! git on | Deadwood Dick’s Double. — ——— ed _ murdered boy a decent interment for several ays. A pretty spot was selected in the edge of the on! within sight and gunshot of the fort, and during the afternoon the colonists dug a grave there, and a coffin was fashioned by chiseling out a trough-shaped receptacle from the body ofa thick pine log. The body was then jiaced in jthis, a short but eloquent funeral service was read by Mr. St. Celton, after which the mourn- ers took a farewell look at the corpse, and the rude coffin was closed, by nailing a slab over the aperture, upon which the loving hands of Alf Montague had chiseled the word: *‘ RoYor,” Just as the sun was dipping its fiery crest over the western mountain ridge, the remains were borne from the fort to the newly dug grave, and after an earnest prayer, were covered forever from view, amid the sobs of the grief-stricken father and sister, and the surrounding colonists. It was a discouraging blow to their hopes and ambition, but the strong determination of Alf The dog wagged its tail appreciatively, and | Montague re-nerved them all, and ins@illed into uttered a low growl. their hearts the will to stay and fight it out to ‘You sce—he is willing to make a meal of | the bitter end. you,” Edith continued, ‘* and unless you are out ot sighié inside of five minutes, I’ll set him onto you.” ‘er true?” “Stay and see!” . “‘Cuss yo. I cum prepared ter take ye alon wi’ me, an’I ain’t a-goin’ ter give up. TY shoot ther dor.” ** Then, Pll shoot you, while you are shooting the dog.” The ruffian swore, frightfully. He saw that there was no show for him, except to ignomini- ously retreat. ‘“Never mind! ye hold ther trump card, now, but I'll beat it, yet,” he growled, as he began to back olf, for he evi ently had no relish for the dog. ‘‘ Vill cum back, sum other time, and maybe when ye ain’t expectin’ me. Ver ve sworn ter possess ye, and I ain’t a-goin’ back on my word!’ He then turned and strode rapidly away, swearing at every step. Edith re-entered her cabin home, and closed the door, satisfied with having, baftled the ruf- fian’s evil plot. CHAPTER IV. THE GHOST OF ROYCE ELLIOTT. From bitter grief, the feclings of the colonists turned to sternest indignation. And why should they not? A terrible blow had been struck them, through one of their number, and that blow from the hand of a foresworn enemy! Poison, too, had been used—that most silent and deadly agency of the coward assassin. Had Royce Elliott fallen by the shot of a rifle or the stab of a sword, his friends would not have been nearly so horrified, as they would then have believed he died defend- ing nimself, © spring water was soon brought, and Fred St. Celton made an examination of it, as wellas he was able with what few ‘‘tools” he had brought with him from the Hast. ‘“*The spring has been liberally ’doped with arsenic,” he said, after awhile, ‘‘and it is cer- tain death to him who drinks from it.” ‘Then, take warning, and drink none of the water,” Montague warned. ** No! don’t tech ther pesky stuff,” Bill Myers advised. ‘Ef ye git thirsty, jest waltz over to the Casino, an’ thar ye ken git three fingers 0’ paralysis fer a doller—ther best article twixt heer an’ Washington; ain’t et, Singer?’ ‘*Muchee goodee fire-water,” Sing Song agreed, smacking his lips. ‘““Something must be done to avenge poor Royce’s death,” Alf Montague said. ‘ Are we emg to stand idle, and let an assassin pick off our men? By nomeans! We must strike back to the death!” “Truly spoken,” St. Celton responded with an approving nod, ‘‘ We must fight this Dead- w Dick with red-hot irons. e must meet ingenuity with ingenuity, craft with craft, and brute force with brute force. Otherwise, we shall be defeated, in spite of ourselves. But all this action must be postponed until poor Royce is buried. And that will needs be soon, for you will observe that his body is bloating even after death, and mortification will soon set in.” Montague gently apprised the Judge and Ethel of this fact, and it was decided to he the re- ‘nains at sunset, that same day, as when night cnce more set in it was apprehended that Dead- wood Dick would fill the valley with his merci- loss agents, and there might be no chance to give / re . > ‘ y* : =; w We / ore ; <4 | i Guards were posted for the night, and every preparation made to repel an attack should one come, Even Old Bill Myers appeared uneasy, and closed his cabin early in the evening and put out the lights. Tom St. Celton and Will Hanson went on guard duty, in the close vicinity of the cabin. Both were brave, stalwart sons of old Virginia, aged twenty-two and three, respectively—boys wlo loved adventure, and had never known what it was to fear. The night was very dark, although the great dome of the heavens glittered like a coronet of paingiens diamonds, he blackness seemed to over Close to the earth, and it was impossible to see any distance before one’s face. About midnight, while pacing to and fro in front of the fort, Tom St. Celton chanced to Gravee in the direction of Royce Elliott’s grave, own by the edge of the forest, and to his un- bounde ay oy and horror there saw a sight that sent a chill of dread and terror down the spine of his back. Beneath the tree where Royce’s grave had been located, stood a horseman, in the blackness of the moonless night, Not an ordinary horseman, or St. Celton could never have seen it, from the fort, on ac- count of the gloom—not an ordinary horseman but a spectacle so frightful as to have unnerve the strongest disbeliever in the supernatural. A white horse, and a white clad rider, sur- rounded by a strange, weird halo of whitish light, stood there beneath the shelter of the tree silent and ghostlike, and the face of the spectral rider, as plainly pec to St. Celton was exactly hke the deathly face of Royce Elliott, the eyes being closed, aud the lips slightly carted the same as when they had laid him away in his rude coffin. Tom St. Celton uttered a horrified exclama- tion, and hastily aroused young Hanson, who was dozing in the doorway of the fort. ‘*For God’s sake, look there!” the colonist gasped, pointing toward the wood. Hanson sleepily arose, rubbed his eyes, and then stared hard at the ghostly spectacle, a nervous tremor perceptibly shaking his form. ‘*In the name of Heaven, what is it?” he artic- ulated, faintly. ‘It’s Royce Elliott’s ghost?” Tom St. Celton replied, huskily. ‘* Don’t you see? It’s his face, just as it was, when we put him in the coffin.” ‘“My God! you are right, Tom. He locks as natural as in life. What shall we do?” “T hardly know. Go in, softly, and arouse Fred and Montague, Don’t awake any of the others,” Hanson obeyed, with alacrity, andsoon reap- ared followed by the young chemist, and ontague. They both turned pale, and trembled violently, as das beheld the spectacle in the edge of the woods. ‘‘This is too horrible to be true!” Fred St. Celton gasped, hoarsely. ‘‘That is certainly Royce Elliott, either in life or death, and I am well satisfied that he was as dead as ever a mortal could be when we buried him. Montague, for Heaven’s sake, tell me what you think.” oung ‘*T don’t know what to think,” the young man replied. ‘‘ That is certainly Royce’s face, or we are all ina horrible nightmare. Hand me my rifle, some of you. T[’llsoon test the matter, beyond doubt.” ‘No! no! you must not shoot. You would arouse those within the fort. It would not do ~ 2 ” . . a : " : = COMIC 5 omen | ae eee e+ er to let Ethel or the Judge see this sight, nearly distracted, as they are. We must keep the matter a secret between ourselves. ‘“You are right; I did not think of them,” Montague assented. ‘' Ah! look yonder!” They bad been gazing toward the fort an in- stant while speaking, and on looking again in the direction of the forest, they perceived, to ek astonishment, that their specter had van- ished! Gone, and left no trace behind to tell of its sudden flight. ‘Thank Heaven! it is gone!” Montague said, with a sigh of relief. ‘ Boys, I'd rather have given one year of my life, than to have seen that-—that—” “Ghost!” Fred St. Celton finished, ‘‘for it was nothing else. With Royce Elliott dead, and in his grave, how could it be aught else— that which we have seen?’ ‘‘Don’t ask me—I do not know,” Montague replied, rubbing his hand across his forehead. “This has been a greater shock to me than it may seem to you. I am all unnerved, and as weak as a child.” ‘* Tt has been a shock to all of us, I guess,” St. Celton replied, ‘‘and IL propose, since the specter is gone, that you all go into the fort and lie down awhile. I will do guard duty unvil morning.” And accordingly it was so arranged. Fred St. Celton paced to and fro about the Jittle fort until day dawned, but saw nothing more of Royce Elliott’s ghost, ‘The colonists were astir bright and early, and as there had been no sign of hostility on the part of the rival claimants of the gulch during the night, their hopes began to grow that the struggie was over. Leaving tour of the party to guard the fort and the women, the other nine started forth, with chains and surveying compass, to lay out the respective farms for the tour families—the Elliotts, the Hansons, the Warwicks and St. Celtons. The valley or basin was to be divided into four equal sections, and then apportioned as could be agieed upon, A measurement was made loth ways acrow the tract, and the center thereby determined upon, from which stakes were driven, or trees marked to the mountainous limits of the guleh. The divisious were so made that the stage trail crossed two of the trects, while the re maining two were some aistai ce irom it, Toarrive at a fair Cistribution of the lands, straws were drawn by Judge Iuiott, James Warwick, Henry Hanson, and He win St, Celtion. The result awarded Eiliott and “nr, Celton the western tracts, through which toe stare trail ran, the little fort coming upon Elliott’s land and Myers’s tavern upon St. Celton’s part, The allotments seemed to be satisiucitory, in- asmuch as all hands were to use the fort se long as there was any danger of hostilities from Deadwood Dick, The Warwicks and Hansons set to work in etting out timber for cabins and ort niidioy mut Judge Elliott made no move in this direo tion on account of Royce’s death, and the St Celtons did not appear decided what to do, . During the day Fred St. Celton and Mo» tague paid a visit, on the sly, to Royce’s grave, and closely examined the ground in the neig?- borhood. : Horses’ tracks were visible, near the grave and the indications went to show that they boul come from, and departed through woods, ‘‘Tf I were a trailer, I would attempt to fol- low that trail,” Montague said, ‘‘ but as I am not I guess we shall have to wait until there are more of these visitations.” ‘Yes: but betwixt you and me, Alf, we must lay aside all cowardly and superstitious fear, and tackle the thing, whether it be a ghost, or devil.” “T agree with you there. If we capture this ghost, it will either be to get scared worse than ever, or to make a surprising discovery. But candidly, although no general believer in ao folderol, I believe it was the disetn- bodied spirit of Royce Elliott which we saw last ‘There seems to be little doubt of it, since he was mostcertainly dead when we placed bio» in the rough coffin,” ‘Thetwo young men walked slowly back to ward Fort Ethel, each gloomy and silent over the mystery that now enshrouded the valley. About noon the stage arrived froin Leadville, on its way north, and three agit te disem- barked from it, and stopped off at the Oasino. They were roughly < saat but honest lool- ing fellows, who claimed to be hunters, but ag | | | JOOKS f " rh (G(@) | yi \ am