Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 238 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

2 The Parson Detective: LITTLE SHOCKY, THE RANGER OF RAVEN-ROOST. BY OLL COOMES, AUTHOR OF “*DASHING DICK,” “TIGER TOM,”’ “THE BOY HERCULES,” ETC., ETC, ee ees ee ee - ee CHAPTER L. REV. PTOLEMY FRODD MAKES AN APPOINTMENT. Tue Missouri river rolled seaward under a summer sky. There was no moon and a blue mist rising along the stream overspread the heavens, blotting out the stars and wrapping wood, water and plain in one silent, solemn darkness. A number of lights twinkling through the vyloom shone from the cabin of River View on the left bank of the ‘‘ Big Muddy.” River View was, at the time of which I write, the only village that broke the monotonous desolation of all that territory lying between the mouth of the Keya Paha and Sioux rivers. Brave and adventursome spirits were they who, with their families had dared to settle there in the very face of the dangers from Indian and outlaw. During the year of 18—, a detachment of Government troops had wintered there. At that time there was nod one but an old bunter and trapper within miles of the place. When the soldiers went away they left a line of bar- racks and three g cabins tenantless, and these were at once taken possession of by a party of hunters and trappers, some of whom ad families. Thus a nucleus was formed around which other men with their families be- an to gather, and in the course of time, River /iew—now known by another name—bloomed into a frontier village, and, although small, it soon possessed all the characteristics of an old river town. The Indian, the hunter and trapper, the sol- dier, the horse-thief and outlaw, the prairie ranger, and the gambler, all contributed to the prosperity, the misery or outlawry, as the case might be, of the place. Judge Lynch’s work soon became greatly needed, but that dispenser of border justice seemed slow to take hold at River View. It was a good place for Christian missionary work, and two or three missionaries had attempted to establish a church there, but for the want of physical, as well as moral, cour- age, their efforts had ended in ignominious fail- ure; and the law-abiding, God-fearing part of the settlement began to fear for the future of the village. In the course of time, however, there came another preacher along answering to the name of Ptolemy Frodd which was at once distorted, by the unsaintly, into Reverend Ptolemy Fraud, the Old Psalm-Singer of the Missouri. On the night our story opens some twenty men—the roughest characters of the place— were assembled at ‘‘ The Pine Cone” saloon, a notorious whisky-shop and gambling-house. Some of them were playing cards, some were throwing dice, and some smoking and discussing the subject of their next ministerial grand bounce, Reverend Ptolemy Frodd. The new preacher had, at the time, only been in the town a day or two. But few of the roughs had seen him yet, and not one of them knew when and where he was to preach his first sermon. In view of the ignorance of these im- — facts, the bully of the place, who was own as ‘‘ Rocky,” was appointed a committee of one to wait on the preacher and ascertain the time and place of his first appointment. But scarcely had this honor been conferred upon the ‘‘mill”’ when the door of the saloon swung open and a stranger entered. ““That’s the Psalm-Singer, now!” exclaimed Rocky in surprise. ‘It are the Reverint Tole- my Fraud or |’m a bu’sted cabbage-head!” n general appearance the stranger was rather striking. © was a man of perhaps fifty years of age, and fully six feet in hight; but he was slender and angular with long ungainly arms and legs, with hands and feet evidently several sizes too large for the man. The lower part of his long bony face was covered with faded brown whiskers, the upper lip being shaven revealing a mouth of enormous size. His nose was rather long and sharp, his eyes mild and soft asa maideu’s. His hair was iong and The Parson Detective. combed straight down on his temples, givin him a look of meek simplicity. He was dresse in a becoming suit of dark clothes that had evi- dently been long in service. ck pay near the door the man politely re- moved his hat and sat it upon atable. Then, as he stood wringing his fingers, he glanced meekly over the assembled crowd that was half-hidden in a fog of tobacco-smoke, and then in answer to Rocky’s remarks on his entering, he said in a mild, yet distinct voice: ‘‘ Yes, gentlemen, my name is Frodd—Rever- end Ptolemy Frodd. I have come to River View to look after its spiritual welfare.” *“‘Good! good! hear! hear!” shouted the roughs, all aquiver with emotion. ‘¢ And in passing here,” continued the preacher ‘‘T saw there were several of you together, so just dropped in to say—” ‘*Hold on thar, a minute, preacher!” inter- rupted Rocky with a flourish of the hand, as he strode to the bar and taking up a bottle of liquor started toward Frodd, “‘ your voice sounds husky, and you want to take a swaller o’ this corn-cologne to cut the mud outen your throat, for I knows you’ve been drinkin’ Missouri river water.” ‘‘Thank you, sir, I never drink anything but water,” replied the old divine, mildly and po- litely. You'll have to drink corn-essence if ye stay here, Psalm-Singer,” declared Rocky; ‘the olimate requires it, so jist you throw aside yer temperance scruples and take a horn and see how much smoother yer can talk.” ‘‘ Sir, I tell you I never drink liquor!” reiter- ated the preacher in a firm tone which gave the oer to understand that he meant what he said. But ‘‘ Rocky ” had gone so far that he could not recede without virtually acknowledgin “first blood” in favor of the meek-face ‘‘Psalm-Singer,” and so turning to a friend he said: ‘‘Come up here, Mait Hohn, and we'll see if this ’ere old meekly Moses don’t take a social nip with us.” Matt Hohn, a heavy set, muscular fellow who was known as Rocky’s “ right-bower,” at once responded to the call of his friend, and swag- ered forward with a smile upon bis coarse ace. In an instant the crowd was on tip-toe of ex- citement—eager for what promised some lively sport, But it was different from what they had ex- pected, for scarcely had Roe come within reach of Frodd when the latter’s long arm shot out and a huge, mallet-like fist was driven into the bully’s face with such force as to knock him half senseless on the floor; and, at the same in- stant almost, he dealt Hohn a left-handeron the side of the head that sent that smiling individual reeling clear across the room, A yell of surprise, mingled with mutterings of revenge, burst from the lips of the astonished spectators, Smarting with pain and furious with rage the two roughs regained their feet, and with bitter curses turned toward the preacher. ‘‘ Hold on there! hold on!” cried the redoubt- able divine, with a revolver in each hand cover- ing the bullies, ‘‘ the first. man that comes near me again will be made the subject for a funeral sermon! Do you hear ?” They did. The terrified roughs started back. The presence of those deadly weapons backed by that towering form and those once meek blue eyes now burning with a fierce light, awed them into motionless silence. A dead bush fell on the crowd. The fall of a pin could have been heard on the floor. In the stillness a card fluttered from the sleeve of Glyndon, the gambler, and fell with a “ fleck” on the floor. The “drip,” “drip” of whisky from the faulty spiget of a whisky-barrel be- hind the bar could be distinctly heard; but no one moved. Reverend Ptolemy Frodd was master of the situation. Presently he said in a slow, firm and deliber ate tone, with his revolvers still drawn: ‘Gentlemen, I have come to River View to stay! And, as I was going to say, next Lord’s Day, at eleven o’clock, [ll preach in the old barracks, and I want every sinner of you to come out and hear me. on’t forget, eleven o'clock next Sunday at the old barracks, no preventing Providence.” With this the old preacher placed his revol- vers in his pockets, took up his hat, with his wonted meekness bade the crowd good-evening, and quietly retired from the Pine Cone. As the door closed on bis tall form, the roughs drew a long breath of relief, and then a subdued ee ee ee eee me et me ee ee ee ene murmur of voices filled the room. The bar- tender looked after the leaking spigot, Glyndon picked up his card, and Rocky and his “ bower” retired for repairs. CHAPTER II. ‘““SHOCKY,” THE BOY-TRAPPER. ‘* HALT! Roger Millbank!” and the commaad was accompanied by the click of revolvers and the sound of footsteps. The young ranger drew rein, and his hand dropped to his belt as three men issued from the bushes before him with their revolvers cev- ering his breast. . ‘* Don’t you dare attempt to draw a pistel,” one of the masked villains said, ‘‘or you are a dead man! Dismount and surrender, and be quick about it!” Roger Millbank was not a coward, He had stood face to face with death more than ence, and as he now sat upon his horse looking inte the revolvers of men whom he knew were out- laws he was unmoved and undaunted. He saw that the foe had him within their power, and yet he had the presence of mind not te precipi- tate his danger by an attempt to checkmate the enemy. Roger Millbank was a dashing young ranger of two-and-twenty, known throughout Nebraska and Dakota, and was feared by foes as he was admired by friends. He was a skillful scout, a fine horseman and a remarkable shot with rifle and revolver; and besides these accomplish- ments of the border ranger and scout, which were the envy of every young man on the seem: who knew him, Roger seemed especially avored by the kindness of Fate in that he was the accepted lover of the fairest of all fair maidens, Ethel Robertson, the niece of Samuel Robertson of River View. He was on his way to the village when met by the outlaws, and when accosted, was riding southward threuga the timber bordering the Vermillion river seme five miles from the Missouri. Young Millbank had been a source of constant annoyance to the Missouri outlaws and horse- thieves, and he was aware of the fact that a ‘price had been set on his head; and when eon- onted by the three masked villains he knew that his capture had been carefully planned and executed: though, to gain a moment’s respite, he demanded: ‘*Gentlemen, what does this mean?” ‘Ha! I wowd ask such a question, Roger Millbank!” replied one of the trio, with a sneer. “Did you ever explain to your victims the whys and wherefores of your murderous treat- ment of them? However, the meaning of this is we have the drop on you and you'll oblige us amazingly by dismounting from your horse without any further words.” As he spoke, the man advanced slowly toward the young stranger, evidently with the intention of seizing his horse by the bits, but divining his purpose a thought hed through the quick mind of the ranger and digging his roweled heels into his horse’s sides, the animal, a quick, fiery creature, lunged forward against the out- law, knocking bim down and trampling him under foot, as it dashed on straight toward the others. Roger threw himself forward on his animal’s neck to avert the bullets now whistling over him, but at the same moment his horse leaped wildly into the air and fell dead—shot through the brain. Millbank was thrown vio- ny i the ground and was half stunned by the fall. Before he could regain his feet he was seized and di - then with a lariat: taken from the saddle on the dead horse, he was securely bound hand and foot, The young ranger’s capture, however, had not been made without the cost of life, for the out- law ridden down lay lifeless, his breast crushed by the horse’s feet. This loss rendered the fury of the two captors all the more bitter, and once they were on the point of shooting the young ranger; but a thought seemed to have occurre to their excited minds and putting up their re- volvers they cut the lariat in two, tied one end around the youth’s neck then dragged him to a tree where there was a convénient limb. By this time it was getting dark and while one of the men guarded the ) pats the other gathered some dry twigs and limbs and started a fire which soon lit up the surroundings with a ruddy glow, In the light the outlaws saw that Roger Mill- hank’s face was a little pale, yet a look of unut- terable defiance blazed in his eyes. He asked not for meroy, and gave them to understand that he was ready to die as he had lived. ‘‘ Now, then,” said one of the villains, “‘ yeu can see what your fate is to be, Roger Millbank, Gomichbooks (El)