Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 186 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

a bit and then took themselves o ne ee oe a oe to let you in fora share if you will agree to help me,” and at this point the man assumed a mys- terious tone. Again the boy nodded as if he understood all about it. ‘*'You have heered tell of these road-agents who have made things lively on the trails north of the camp hyer?”’ “‘Oh, yes, bang, bang! shoot, kill some- times.” ‘Exactly, them is the critters. Well, now, my idee is that them fellers have got a hiding- place somewhar near this very identical camp.” ** Who knows? maybe,” and the idiot looked extremely wise. ‘* Now if we could find out wharabouts these fellers have got their hole we could make a pile of money out of it, for thar’s a big reward of- fered by two or three ee Don’t you sup- pose that you could find out about them?” ‘**Oh, yes; I will go with you,” responded the boy, immediately. ‘And you will show me where these fellows have their hole?’ exclaimed Devine, a look of satisfaction appearing upon his evil face. ** I will look—maybe find!” answered the boy, in a very confident manner. The expression upon the face of the other changed and was succeeded by a look of an- noyance, ‘Yes, but don’t you know?” ** How know?” “Whar the Wild-cats live, you know; that is the way these road-agents disguise them- selves.” ** Cats—Wild-cats?” and the boy began to pon- der as if in deep thought. ‘* Yes, they livein a cave, like this one hyer whar you hang out; that is, I reckon they do; f. cave in the mountains; in some canyon may- be—some place like the Devil’s Canyon, you know.” The idiot shook his head; he did not know. The poor disordered brain refused to work and memory was at fault. The seeker after knowledge was satisfied, though, that the idiot did know, if he could only remember, and so he made another effort. ‘You have seen these big cats, ain’t you, big as men, you know?” ‘* Big cats? No! don’t like cats—me-ow— scratch!” and the boy shook his head in decided disapprobation. ‘** But, don’t ae know any cave in the moun- tains besides this one here where you live?” asked the man, making another endeavor to aid the flagging memory of the boy, who again shook his head, ‘No good; all dreams,” he replied, tapping his head, significantly. ‘* Yes, but don’t you remember any of the dreams?” the other persisted, eagerly. The idiot answered with a blank stare, show- ing that if was not possible to get any informa- tion out of him. 1 recollection of his adven- ture with the road-agents in their mountain cave and his miraculous escape from the ter- rible death to which they had doomed him had faded completely away. ‘‘ Well, pard, [am sorry we can’t go into the thing together, for I think we could make a big strike if we could only get on the right trail, but, perhaps you may run across them one of these days, seeing that you are allers wander- ing around the mountains, and if you do, why, bos let me know and we'll go in for it. So- ong!” and then Mr. Devine took himself off, extremely disgusted at his non-success. ‘‘He is either an idiot for sure and don’t know nothing, or else he is playing it on me, and blessed if I can tell which it is,” he mutter- ed, as he descended the bill. As for the boy, he stretched himself out at they found their way down here. Cool Desmond. ee ee ot ae ee ae ee eee + + +0 oem ee ns volver ready cocked in bis hands, for he had been playing pretty nearly all the evening and had risen from the table quite a winner, and the night prowler who plies his trade in the far Western mining-camps generally lies in wait for his victim behind the cover of some con- venient shanty and jumps out with leveled re- volver and the cry of, ‘‘ Throw up your hands!” without ransom Having considerable money on his person Devine was prepared for any- thing of this sort, for he was no ‘‘ tenderfoot,” unused to the ways of a mining-camp. He had won and won largely, and he didn’t know but that some opponent might attempt to get even by appealing to violent methods. The precautions taken by the man were not needless, for he was waited for; a rough and burly miner who had lost his last dollar at the gaming-table, to Devine, had made up his mind to square the matter by playing highwayman, and having selected a good ambush, was lying in wait for hisman. The night was quite light, a half-moon being up so that objects could be plainly distinguished even at a distance. On came Devine, and just as the concealed miner, having noticed the revolver carried so openly by the other, was debating whether to jump out at the successful gamester at the risk of getting the worst of the affair, or to lay still and let him pass, there sounded on the air the short, quick bark of a revolver-shot. Devine threw up his hands, staggered, and then, with a shrill scream of mortal agony, went down. The shot and the scream at once gave the alarm, and the miners came pouring out into the street, more or less dressed, in eager haste, anxious to learn what had happened. Devine was dead before any one reached his side, the shot proving fatal almost instantly. The miner who had laid in ambush pretended that he was coming - the street and so had witnessed the affair. He bad heard the report of the pistol, then saw the man fall but couldn’t for the life of him tell where the shot had come from. But, when the body was examined, the mys- tery was out. The secret slayer again had been at his bloody sport. Devine had been shot in exactly the same place, in the head right above the ear, where Kirby had received his mortal wound. What was the meaning of this fearful work? CHAPTER XIV. THE STORY OF THE IDIOT. THE restaurant, which the generosity of the miners had enabled the pilgrims to open, was a success from the beginning. Of course all the miners who wanted anything in the eating line considered it their duty to patronize the new- comers, seeing that they had been, as it were, adopted by the town. In fact, the new enterprise had nothing but good wishes from all, with the exception of the Doctor; the *‘ Pilgrim’s Ranch” cut in alittle on the business of his hotel; and then, he hated women anyway. The Doctor was not much of a talker, but he had let slip a few remarks in regard to the new- comers. He of course had heard the story which the girl had told, and briefly he had com- mented on it. ‘*Not much information,” he had observed, ‘‘but a great deal of mystery. They don’t tell where they are from nor how it happens that here are reasons which they say they cannot very well | explain. Well, now, why can’t they explain? It don’t look right to me; looks as if something was wrong somewhere, and I think before the town took them under its protection, the town full length again but kept close watch upon the | was entitled to know more of their story than man as he descended to the town, the pupils of | the girl has chosen to tell.” his eyes contracting and expanding every now and then just for all the world like a cat’s orbs, and from the peculiar expression upon the face one used to the boy would have been sure that he was meditating mischief. Nothing in particular worth noting occurred that night in thecamp. The miners came in as usual, made their purchases, talked over the news of the day, drank their liquor, gambled to their re- spective cabins. By one o’clock the town was as quiet as a graveyard. The last place to close was Des- mond’s saloon and the last man to leave it was Devine. He stopped at the door and exchanged a few words with the host, and then, with un- steady steps, for he had been drinking very freely, proceeded on his homeward road. As a matter of precaution he carried his re- | | But, the Doctor’s words had no weight at all; the beautiful face of the girl had taken the town for all it was worth, and the remarks of the sa- turnine proprietor of the Tenderfoot’s Rest were set down to envy alone. The new restau- rant was taking the wind out of the Doctor’s sails, and he was envious, that was all. The miners had perfect faith in the maiden; if there were reasons which seemed good to her why sheshouldn’t tell any more of her story than she had revealed, why, she knew best, and it wasn’t anybody else’s business. One of the champions of the two was the oung store-keeper, Shannon. He took a lively interest in the new enterprise, and did his best to make it a success. : He was accustomed to run in every now and then in order to see how they were getting along. rn 0 EEE eed rr a —————————__—_————ooe_ se hg te eyed ee ee ewe we ee ee And on one of these visits, while he was con- versing with the girl—the boy kept always in the background and rarely came forward to see anybody, a circumstance, which as he was pre- sumed to be quite sick, astonished no one—who should make his appearance but the idiot boy? He came marching in with the meaningless grin upon his face which he constantly wore when he was not raving about bloodshed and murder, and nodded familiarly to the two. ‘‘Hungry; want something to eat!” he ex- claimed, patting bis stomach as he spoke in a very significant manner. ‘Give him what he wants and I will pay for it,” Shannon said. ‘* Willis asort of privileged character, and on account of his infirmity claims hospitality from every one.” ‘‘Indeed you will not pay for it, Mr. Shan- non; he is quite welcome to the best we have!” the girl assured. “If it had not been for his friendly aid we might have perished in the gloom amid the hills, for we had lost our way and had no idea where we were going.” ‘No good come here; you see!” and the idiot shook his head in a warning manner. ‘‘He did his best to keep us from coming to the town, and predicted all sorts of misfor- a - we persisted in coming,’ the girl ex- ined. F ‘*How was that, Will? Why did you want to keep the lady away?” Shannon asked. ‘**Pie!” said the idiot, not paying the slight- est attention to the —— but pointing to a large and tempting-looking pie which was dis- played ona table near by, and which had at- tracted his eyes. ‘* Would you like some?” the girl asked. ‘* All,” answered the boy; modesty was not one of his failings. ‘** Not all of it!” Shannon exclaimed. But the idiot protested that all was what he wanted, and that less than all would not be — so he was presented with the pie, and marched away with it in triumph. ‘Poor boy! What a pity itis that his wits are affected,” the girl remarked, her heart ee by the unfortunate ‘condition of the a ‘“Yes, his story is a sad one; have you ever heard it?” The maid replied in the negative, and she begged that the young store-keeper would satisfy her by relating the story. ‘IT will do so with pleasure,” Shannon an- swered. ‘‘ Possibly since you have come into our town you have heard mention made of the massacre of Conejos.” The gir] nodded; she bad acquired much more command over herself than she had at first, and beyond growing slightly paler did not manifest any particular ay a But the boy Michael, who had, apparently, been fast aslee in his bunk, where, as usual, he was wrappe up tightly in his blanket, was aroused, for now his pale and anxious face appeared, and with straining eyes he gazed upon the young man while he rehearsed the story of the idiot. ‘This valley has only recently been settled,” he began; ‘‘ the town has not yet seen a year’s growth, although the minesin this locality are exceedingly rich, but it is so far away from the beaten track that it was only by accident the discovery was made that there were rich ores along the course of the little stream which runs through the valley. | ‘‘The first settler, and, in fact, the original discoverer of the valley, was a Spanish-Amer ican named Andrea Conejos. Witha few asso- ciates he discovered that there were rich lodes in this vicinity and pitched his camp here. He commenced to mine at the upper end of the val- ley where the stream comes down out of the mountains. Ofcourse the news that the Cone- jos party had made a rich strike here soon got abroad, and emigrants commenced to pour in and settled this town upon the site where it now stands. As is usual with all new mining- camps the first comers were a pretty rough set, and, someway, they got to dislike Conejos: they had an idea that his claim was worth all the rest put together, and, in some peculiar way, — argued themselves into the belief that he had no right here at all, although he was the original discoverer of the valley. At first this feeling vented itself in talk, but finally, desper- ate men, not satisfied with talk, betook them- selves to deeds. Conejos’s little camp was at- tacked one night and every soul that dwelt therein was brutally murdered, with one ex- ception—this idiot boy, Conejos’s son. He had received a fearful wound upon the head and had been left for dead, but, by a. miracle almost, he recovered, though the terrible shock as well as the dreadful wound which he had received | 900 “COmMIE “Ss - co ,