Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 219 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

LS oo —-- $$ —— fhe spectators with terror. As again and again he dashed the hair from his eyes, witb his left hand, which was dripping with bleod from the wound in his arm, where Bullwhacker Ben’s murderous thrust at his side had taken effect, his ghastly face became smirched with crimson until it was a thing of horror. It daunted Bullwhacker Ben. The thought flashed through bis mind that.this might be a vampire with whom he was fighting. The sus- tained ferocity of this onslaught made all that bad gone before if seem mere child’s play, From ‘fighting purely on the defensive, the giant bull- whacker began to yield ground, backing now this way, now that. But ever Iron Despard fol- lowed him up like an irresistible fate. The crowd now saw that if the gambler’s wind held out, his adversary was a doomed man. They had to surge back and forth to make way before the constantly shifting con- testants. Yells of fear, shouts of encourage- ment, cries of direction or warning filled the air, Men came rushing from all directions, to swell the crowd, until all Hell Hole was on the spot. Pullehagkar Ben’s. friends showed a dis- position to break up the fight; but there were disinterested lovers of fair-play, who, under the lead of Hoss Johnson, exerted themselves to keep the space about the duelists clear. Suddenly witha yell of terror, Bullwhacker nibs turned and ran, dodging this way and that. ‘Turn! turn! or I will strike you in the back!” cried Iron Despard, as he followed him with suspended knife, ‘Enough! enough! Ben’s got enough!” yelled his friend. ‘‘Stop him! Keep him off!” “Tt was to the death!” cried the Demon Duelist; for now he looked a veritable demon. ‘Turn! Turn!” 3 As he spoke, he seized the fugitive by the air, Bullwhacker Ben turned and tried to ward off the expected blow. But his guard was beaten down and the murderous bowie plunged into his side, again and again and again! The first blow had pierced his heart; and drop- ing his bowie, he only writhed in the agonies of eath, seeking to tear a stinging scorpion from his breast. But his implacable toe, who now seemed insane with passion, held him up with one hand, with almost incredible strength, while he added blow upon blow, Yells of dismay rent the crowd. To the minds of al] recurred the spectacle of Jim Kane’s body, with its hundred gaping wounds. No one dared approach the Demon Duelist, to snatch his victim arey. At. last. [ron Despard dropped the lifeless corpse, and, once more tearing his bloody hair from before his madly-glaring eyes, and holding his reeking knife in readiness, addressed the crowd, ‘* Men of Hell Hole, I don’t know the extent of the wound I have received—it may be my death. If it is, this will be my last chance to. get even with certain. parties in this town who -have cliqued together for the purpose of rumning me out of it. . You know, as well as I do, that the fight with Ten-strike Tom, like this one, was forced upon me, Now, I accuse nohody in pee ticular; but there is somebody back of these men who has hounded them on. TJhat’s the man I want to meet! If there is a man in all Hell Hole who has a quarrel with me, let him come now, backed by all the curs that he has ready to set barking at my heels!” No one daring to accept this bold challenge, a dead silence reigned. The door of the Palace Saloon opened, and the Queen of the Green Cloth came forth. The crowd opened before her, and she passed through them, looking neither to the right nor to the left. Reaching Iron Despard’s side, she stopped so as to clasp him about the thighs, and so bring his weight upon her shoulder, as she lifted him, At that moment. came the reaction. The bloody knife dropped from his nerveless hand; his head sunk unon his breast; and he lopped over upon the woman, unconscious. Seeing her purpose, Hoss Johnson sprung for- ward to relieve her of so disproportioned a bur- den; but staggering erect, she said, in a low, hoarse Voice; ‘‘ Don’t interfere with me!” Constrained to obedience by her imperious manner, he desisted, Joe Smedley suddenly set his teeth and clinched his hands, in a spasm of jealous fury that nearly forced a cry of furious protest from his lips; but the woman never looked his way. In ead gilenc:. she. Crewe. x3r- “er pags Despard, the Duelist. — - or ee rr oo -_~— through their midst and enter the saloon, when the door closed behind her. What manner of woman was this? CHAPTER VIIL. THE WARNING, INSTEAD of dispersing, the crowd before the Palace Saloon gathered into knots, to discuss the tragedy that had just been enacted. Man thought that the gambler prince had got his death-blow. Some observed an ominous si- lence, scowling gloomily, Having left directions for the burial of Bull- whacker Ben, the Little Giant went to his ap- pointment with the Indian seeress, In one respect he was not satisfied with the progress of events. He could not get out of bis mind the spectacle of the Queen of the Green Cloth carrying the wounded man in her arms. If she loved Lron Despard as that act seemed to indicate, where were Joe Smedley’s chances? Wild and weird was the spot toward which the captain of Vigilantes bent his steps. The rocks rose in fantastic shapes on every hand. The wind sighed dismally through the pines. The sky was hung with hurrying clouds, which now disclosed and now obscured a thin crescent moon, filling the scene with uncertain shadows. It taxed even his nerve to face both the real and the fanciful terrors of that place, on such an errand, He found the medicine lodge as before. Be- side it the Indian witch was stirring a kettle which was hung from three sticks. ‘The fire, fed with resinous wood, gave forth a dense cloud of black smoke, which, after enveloping the conjurer, so that with the play of the wind she was sometimes visible, framed in its edging folds, and sometimes completely bidden from sigbt, rose against the face of a cliff, the top of which was shadowed by overbanging pines, At sight of the Little Giant, Washikitwa raised her hand, interdicting a nearer ap- proach. He stopped and waited. The medicine-woman began to chant a low, et wild monody. The steam that rose from ier kettle gradually assumed a faint luminosity. The clouds, gathering thicker, wrapped all else in blackest night. At first the faint radiance from the pot showed the upper half of the old Indian’s body —her buffalo-horns head-dress and her wrinkled face, seen through the vail of horse-hair. Gradually the figure became indistinct, until its outlines were lost. Then itreappeared, with an effect like that of dissolving views. But behold a change most marvelous! No longer the Indian witch, but the beautiful siren who had so nearly lured the Little Giant over a precipice! Again was the man paralyzed by that abject terror. He felt rooted to the spot. A voice like the sighing of the winds came to him across the witch’s caldron:— ‘‘ Forego your wicked purpose! Be warned! Be warned?’ Then the strange vision faded out, until.a dense cloud,of smoke arose enveloping all, When it cleared away again, the witch stood in her place, stirring the pot and mumbling her barbarous chant. With a blind impulse to do he knew not what, Joe Smedley took a step forward, But at that instant his senses were wrapped in oblivion, as before they had been on the verge of the cliff. The Little Giant recovered consciousness, to find the night transformed into day. In wonder he gazed about him. The medicine-lodge and the Indian sorceress were gone. Hemight have thought it all a dream, but that a pile of ashes marked the spot of the fire from which had risen so marvelous a vision. There was a dull, throbbing pain in his head, and his thoughts were confused, Slowly he left the spot, And now, what was the outcome of it all? Were the powers of the invisible world arrayed against his project? It so, should he yield to them, or persist in his purpose in despite ot them? Thus far no malign /afluence had fallen upon him pool's but the agents of his will had both been destroyed. Instead of returning directly to the camp, he made a.semi-circuit among the crags, in order to be longer alone with his thoughts, Coming out into the road which approached the camp from below, his attention. was attracted by the sound of a horse riden at an easy canter, which was arrested while he listened. Then came the sound of a woman’s voice, Creeping forward he came upon a surprise— potap easant one—Hally face to face with the pueer Sf Vac Green Cloth} *» i i ————$_—__—_— asinine —E 9 -—— ‘‘T beg your pardon for stopping you,” she said, while her face was the. battle-ground of contencing emotions; ‘‘ but I have that which I must say to you.” ‘What is it my good woman?” asked the Queen of the Green Cloth, with lofty patronage. A flush of resentment came to Hally’s cheek, and a flash to her eye, which, however, she struggled to curb, “T hardly know how to begin,” she said, in a tremulous voice. ‘‘lt is an appeal. to. your generosity—” The Queen of the Green Cloth at once madea move to draw forth her purse. ‘Not that! not that!” cried Hally, starting back, as proud as the haughty beauty before her. “Tam vota beggar—at least not for money, All I ask is my proper due,” ‘‘Tam ata loss to guess how J can serve you,” said the Queen of the Green Cloth, looking at the other curiously. ** By not robbing me of that which is of more value to me than all else in the world—Joe Sniedley’s love !” was the response, in a burst of pain, humiliation, and heart-wrung entreaty; and the speaker extended her clasped hands, while her eyes filled with tears, and her lips quivered with sobs. ‘‘He is mine!” she went on, passionately. ‘You have no right to him! Is it not enough—” “Stop!” cried the Queen of the Green Cloth, raising her hand, imperiously, ‘‘ I have nothing to do with Mr. Smedley, or any other, Iam a stranger in this place, and am not on speaking terms with a single man here, except my hus- band and those in his employ, and with them only when business requires it. Your jealousy is absurd—” ‘*Listen to me, and then I will leave it to your fairness whether it is or not, Ten years ayo Joe Smedley won the love of a girl who would have walked over burning plowshares to conduce in the slightest degree to his happiness. Vor him she sacrificed all that a woman can yield up—not grudgingly, but freely, gladly, without a trace of regret; more than repaid by his smile. For a few short months she lived in a fool’s paradise. Then came the awakening. I will not go into the details of that terrible agony—that death in life! He saw another— yourself. For love of you he cast off one whose life was bound up in his love, and so drove her to suicide, “A year ago I met him in San Francisco, I knew the story of the woman whose heart he had broken; but I came under his fascination, and for well or ill risked my happiness where she had wrecked hers, ‘Of his past relations with you, and what led to the rupture between you, I know nothing. I only know that he loves you still, and is secking youagain. If you reject him so decidedly as to leave no ground for hope, 1 may still be able to retain bim, with at least the outward mani- festations of love. My God! it is so little that I ask! Don’t break my heart as you did the heart of that other?!” Tears rained from her eyes; her voice was broken by sobs; in the abandonment of suppli- cation she clasped the skirt of Hortense an gerfield’s riding-habit, The Queen of the Green Cloth was not moved to womanly compassion by this piteous specta- cle. She said, coldly; ‘‘f pass over the questionable compliment of such an appeal to a woman already married. But go home and free your mind of this foolish jealousy. Mr. Smedley is nothing to me, nor I to him, And now, if you will excuse me—” She touched her horse with the whi and rode on. Hally looked after her with a dead despair in her face, “Oh, tae marble heart!—the cruel tigress!” she moaned, and cast herself on the ground in an agony of weeping. She was aroused by a footfall, and started up, to find th. Little Giant standing beside her with folded arms and a frown of anger on his brows, “On, Joe!—don’t! don’t!” she pleaded, clasp- ng his knees. ‘How dared you?’ he demanded, not offering to lift her up, ‘*y¥ jove vou so! I Jove you so! Don’t kill me, Joe, by rorsaking mefor her! It ill kill me if youdo! Ilove yout I leve youl” ‘Get up.” he commanded. The woman obeyed, standing beforo him like ene awaiting the death sentence, He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face to a penetrating scrutiny. Her tear-swimming eyes, her pain-drawn face qnneeled to him Rut he remafhed vymoved, | OOo) GOMME S