Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 205 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

saxdy ‘me to kill. caper. Deadwood Dick’s Doom. il. seemed to meet a favorable response from his companions, **Tt’s a big thing to do, of course,” Poker Jack assented; ‘* but look! yonder is a splinter in the door at the other end ot the room, that shows where the bullet went, after goin’ through the bottle.” An exclamation confirmed his declaration. A bullet was lodged ia the door, in plain view, in a spot where the door had hitherto been un- marred, “That don’t sevile the question, however!” a voice cried, and Carrol Carner, who had been standing, since the shooting, in the doorway that opened into the hall, now advanced into the barroom. “Ive gota little finger to in- trude into this pie!’ ** Well, what have you got tosay?’ Calamity demanded, turning fiercely upon him, for from his voice she knew he was the same man who was dealing so villainously with Mrs. Morris. “T have this to say!” he replied, with a tri- umphant smile—‘‘that while all other eyes were turned upon the bottle, mine were upon you, and [saw you fire two revolvers, instead of one; one was leveled at the dead man here, the other at the bottle, and both exploded sim- ultaneously making one report!” ‘My God! what a lie!” Calamity Jane gasped; then—‘“ Back! back, you devils—” as the crowd rushed at ber, and she opened rapid fire upon them with two revolvers, resolved to sell her life and liberty dearly. But they were a hundred to one—what could be the result? They had secured her in the hard unyielding grasp of u dozen pairsof hands, in almost a moment, but not until her unerring aim had sent four strong men upon their backs, and several others wounded. **Out with her! String her up!” roared the Bullwhacker Poet, who had been one of those to sustain a scratch in the face. ‘Yes! give the murderous hussy a rope!” cried Carrol Carner. ‘She deserved it long ago!” “Hold! Pause before you do this outrage!” a deep stern voice cried, and there entered the room the same strange black-bearded stranger whom we have known as the Unknown, He had no weapons in hand to stay the mob that bad Calamity Jane in their power; it was the commanding tone of voice, and his dark, forbidding appearance, that caused the rude crowd to pause and await an explanation of his advent. ‘*Stop!” he repeated. ‘‘ This girl belongs to I have a mortgage upon the life you would take, and I propose to attend to the foreclosure myself; still, realizing your revenge- ful spirit toward her, I will give you a chance to win her for your own disposal, Select some man from your crowd, who is expert at knife- throwing, and we will throw six knives apiece at a round chalk mark, the size of a silver dollar on yonder door, while standing twenty paces from the aforesaid door. The man who puts the most knives nearest to the chalk center shall have the girl!” “That’s me, every day in the week, you bet!” cried the poet, executing a ludicrous “Right on my muscle aire I at tossir’ knives, way up ter ther shoulder; ther h’yees knows who I am an’ thet my specialty is cuet, an’ compilin’ beautiful gems 0’ poetry. Eh! boyees—shall we hev a leetle o’ ther lady amoosement?” : Piute Dave lay dead upon the 4-<r—these men of Death Notch looked nex% after him, to Shakespeare, as their leader, aod gave a growl of assent. : “Tt is well!” the Unknowr said, ‘for had you refused, you would never have escaped from this place alive, as “t is in my power to strike every one of you dead, at a single blow!” It wasa bold devlavetion, but had its effect. The crowd cowered in superstition from the gaze of this dark forbidding stranger. ‘*fto ahead, aud collect a dozen bowie knives, ad also wonr4 a dollar-sized circle on vonder Orr, Sch, Pate AL .WEDOE .bode auc ‘aa oi,” che stranger commanded, IS Gps v- - ~~ © > ore rertrgey, ometeng > - . ~ ’ * Od fee ~ ors LL sss ene Shakespeare followed the instructions prompt- ly, and then, armed with his allowanee of knives, took his position. It was now to be a test of skill for the life of Calamity Jane, who was still held a prisoner. CHAPTER IX. THE UNKNOWN WINS—AND LOSES. Ir was the Black Unknown who gave the word ‘go,’ and the bullwhacker hurled his knife directly toward the chalk mark upon the door, Hurled it well, too, for it struck within a couple of inches of the hastily-prepared bull’s- eye. oh cheer went up from the crowd, who had hitherto had no particular amount of faith in the bullwhacker’s aim, and it tickled the poet hugely, for he executed a grotesque breakdown in celebration of bis first good throw, ‘*Ho! ho! who sayeth thet ther great Peru- vian Poet ain’t on his muscle?’ he roared, with a broad grin, ‘‘ Did ye see how purty thet no- ble blade went quivering cluss ter the eye of the bull? This time Ill put out the bovine’s sight, entirely, you bet!” But he didn’t. Tbe knife went further from the bull’seye than the first one, ‘* Kerwhoop! I got nervous thet time, an’ put on too much elbow,” he cried, a little chagrined. ‘* Knife-throwin’ is about as uncertain as life, I tell ye. A fellar can’t tell when he’s goin’ ter make a miss-go!” The next throw was more successful, for the knife went quivering into the center of the bull’seye, precisely. ‘Thar! feast yer eyes on that, will ye, an’ tremble in yer boots!” the bullwhacker shouted turning to the Unknown. ‘‘Ob, Tm a colt, I am!—l’m a snortin’, cavortin’ war-hoss, right from ther histrionic battle-field o’ Waterloo, where water was first invented. Here goes ag’in fer another bull’seye!” And, sure enough, he did succeed in putting the blade point of his fourth knife in the circle close beside its predecessor. Another round of applause came from the friends of the bullwhacher: ‘*I guess that surprises our black-bearded 2 pea Carrol] Carner ejaculated, sarcastic- ally. ‘Not nearly so much as an early death will surprise you, sir!” the Unknown retorted. ‘‘In- deed, Iam pleased to see your man exhibit so much.skill in the use of the knife, and presume he will win.” ** You may hope so, for your own good, you Mormon devil!” Calamity cried, turning her glittering eyes upon the Salt Lake ruffian, ‘‘ for s I get free, you can bet Vil make mince-meat of you.’ This, too, elicited quite a cheer, for the Mor- mon was no favorite among the roughs, despite his effort to establish himself in their confi- dence. Altogether, the audience was getting very en- thusiastic. ‘‘{ have no fear of serious consequences!” Carner responded, with provoking composure, ‘** Nor need you,” the Unknown replied, grim- ly, “for even if the girl escapes your ven- reance, she is not through with me, I fancy. a! ha! no!” . ‘*{n what way have I deserved your enmity ?” Calamity demanded, more surprised than ever, for Ane had believed she would gain her libert nt he hands of this strange dark individual, cat voice was like the sullen growl of thun- der. /_ ‘That remains to be told,” he replied. ‘‘ Suf- fice to say that I hold a mortgage against your life, which I shall foreclose. If I don’t win, you are still the prisoner of these gents you sce around you. Go ahead, sir bullwhacker;—you have yet two knives to throw!” ‘‘An’ hyar they go. Jest feast yer eyes on ther Shakespearean wind up o’ this exciting dramyver.” Whiz! away sped the fifth knife from the poet’s hand, and buried its keen poe deep in the door a half a foot from the bull’seye. ‘**Bah! thet don’t look as if you were going to win!” Carrol Carner growled. ‘‘ You'll lose the girl, you fool, and cheat us out of our vem- geance 1 ‘* Ef he loses her, et’s his loose, pilgrim!” one of the miners said, ‘tan’ ef Black Beard wins her fair, he shall hev her, ’ca’se we’re square we aire—eh! ain’t that so, boys?” The men of Death Notch gave a nod of as- run, arr , BA Wet ie See “6 Mahny amMung in: “.2n 3 tnac Gaiamity ATS VSR AS, rete, , . we “ff would not be given to the Unknown, under any circumstances, Whiz! Shakespeare’s last knife hurtled through the air, and entered the bull’seye—mak- ing just balf of its allotted number which had entered the circle. ‘“Very good, indeed,” the Unknown said, ‘*but I think [ can put the whole six in the cir- cle. Pull out your knives and I will try, at least.” Shakespeare obeyed, not nearly pleased as he might have been. | ‘*T orter ’a’ put ’em all hum, myself,” he said, “but every time I'd git jest ready to let fly, some consarned line 0’ poetry would pop inter my noddle, an’ discombobberate my aim. Hyar’s one that popped in, just as | heaved the last knife: so well. ‘Mary had a little lamb; At her et uster kick, She pulled the wool all off its back An’ made a feather tick,"’ ‘Well, please don’t give us any more of the same style, or it may injure my aim also,” the Unknown added, satirically, as he equipped himself with his knives preparatory to the test, ‘‘Watch me now, to see that I do it fairly.” He then hurled one of the bowies toward the door. Thud! it entered the circle exactly in the center, the blade passing through the door up to the hilt, illustrating, strikingly, with what force the missile had been thrown. ‘* Pull that knife out; [ want to put another in the same place,” he said, with a faint smile, It was done, and he was as good as his word—~ he hurled another knife into the same spot. One after another was pulled out, and one after another he buried in the same hole, until he had not only exhausted his own half-dozen, but had also buried the poet’s knives there, too, without making a miscalculation in his aim! When he bad finished he turned to the spec- tators, with a bit of triumph gleaming in hig eyes, ‘* Have I won, gentlemen?” he demanded, with a smile, The cheer that followed spoke better than words of their decision, ‘On course you’ve gone an’ won, an’ I be dratted ef ye didn’t do et fair an’ squar’, an ther gal is yourn, declareth I, William Henr Shakespeare, mayor 0’ this hyar town o’ Deat Notch. Give us yer’and, you galoot!—yer ’and cot your ’and, ter squeeze jest fer good uc ‘‘No, [thank you! I donot care to shake the hand of a greater rogue than myself,” the Unknown replied, dryly. Then he turned te Calamity: ‘Girl, I have won you, fairly, and now you are doubly mine. But 1 do not want you, jest yet, and so will give you your liberty for a few days, well knowing that you will not dare to runaway. Gents, give her her liberty, and see that she is offered no molestation until I get ready to claim my revenge. Ha! ha! it shall sweet revenge—the revenge of years’ maturing!” Then, with a grim laugh, the dark stranger wrapped his cloak closer about him, and stalked from the tavern. One or two of the miners went to the door, after him, and saw him stride swiftly away up one of the gloomy gulches which centered into the basin like the spokes of a whee] to the hub, Calamity was then released, but Carner had taken precaution to escape to his 10cm, fo tc ve trouble, Just outside of the basin, in the moonlight that streamed into the gulch, the Unknown came unexpectedly upon a woman who was seated upon a fallen tree, and engaged in a good old-fashioned cry. The new-fashioned cry of to-day, ts a ccm) '- nation of sigbs and snuffles; consequently it. occurred to the Unknown that this woman’s hearty cut and out cry might safely be pre- nounced old-fashioned, He was considerably surprised at his c's- covery, and hesitated about disturbing her. But resolved to learn her trcuble, he finaly stepped forward and touched her upon the shoulder. ‘* Excuse me, madam, but is your trouble of a nature that needs assistance from astrong and willing hand of one whose whole life has beer one of trouble?” Mrs. Morris—for it was she—looked up with a. start. ‘* Who are you, sir?” she demanded, in alarm, for his dark and forbidding apnearsnees did nat “evorably impress ..c , ‘One whe is a gentieoman, ant a nmena sO ae gsed, Ma’am, een ho’dark a << scomicbooks*co