Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 28 — page 1: what you’re looking at

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

(UA Vile! Vis = =! resi | {| hi Vol. II. single Number. Buffalo Ben, THE PRINCE OF THE PISTOL; Deadwood Dick in Disguise. A SEQUEL TO THE “* DOUBLE-DAGGERS.” BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF ‘“‘WILDCAT BOB,” “HURRICANE NELL,”’ “OLD AVALANCHE,’ ‘‘ DEADWOOD DICK,”’ CLOVEN HOOF,”’ *‘ DOUBLE DAGGERS,’ ETC., ETC. CHAPTER L. THE TRAGEDY OF THE LONE CABIN. Pircuep down in the heart of a bleak Montana wilderness, under the shadow of towering, pine-clad mountains, and facing a majestic, rolling prairie; here in this land of the lurking savage and fierce wild " stood a solitary cabin, alone in its desolation. It was strongly built, —_ ably with a view to defense, and overgrown with wild vines, now deadened to russet brown by the wintry blasts that swept across the dun prairie. One door was the only visible mode of entrance; a narrow window up in under the eaves admitted light to the interior. One wild, windy January day, years ago, two persons sat before a roaring fire inside this isolated cabin, conversing. One was a man of about sixty years, for his hair was snowy- white, and his face seamed with many furrows, put there by the hand of time. But de- spite his years he evidently was ini to constant activi- ty and hardship. He was attired in the garb of a Nor’-western hunter; in truth, that was his calling, as was evidenced by the indis- criminate collection of para- phernalia strewn about the cabin—guns, pistols, _—— skins, and the many articles required by the hunter of the mountain and prairie. The man's companion was a young woman of some three- and-twenty years. She was very pretty of face and form, and in her whole appearance ke education, modesty and refinement, which is but unfrequently met with thus far beyond the bounds of civili- zation. She was light in com- plexion, with fair auburn hair, ight brown eyes, and a mouth of tempting sweetness; and, too, her dress was unusually elegant and costly considering her rough surroundings; while diamonds and pearls graced her fair patrician fingers, her throat, and were tastefully ar- ranged in her hair. The interior of, the cabin did not speak of a woman's hand in its arrangement, for things were strewn about in a chaos of disorder and neglect. The furniture ae a few rudely manufactured camp-stools, a table, and ses. eral piles of soft furs. am bes , —_——- — — he Copyrighted in 1878, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. ee upon one of these piles the of the young wo- man rested lovingly, while she conversed with the old hunter, Over the huge open fire-place, in which burned brightly a pile of seasoned hickory logs, were hung the hunter's limited supply of cooking utensils; in one end of the cabin, which was large and roomy, were innumerable fire-logs, showing that no neglect of the hunter had left him unprepared for the cold winter. ‘* Phew!" the old man muttered, as he listened to the shrieking of the wind without, and the dismal sound of the blustering snow as it whirled in inces- sant eddies against the staunch cabin walls—" phew! this ar’ a pesky bad day fer Jannerwary. I've cooped down in this ‘ere lattytude for nigh onter six year, and tan my. peltries ef 1 ever see’d a colder, more disagreeable snap. “Tain’t at all likely yer frien’s ‘ll cum down across Twenty-Mile Stretch in sich weather like this, marm.”’ “Ah! sir, you donot know them. Neither fire nor storm will stop them, once they strike my trail,”’ re- plied the youpg woman, shivering and glancing ap- BUFFALO BEN. (a nt noe ut ont “ad ~. ORB Go 5 Cents. preenerey around. ‘‘ Friends, indeed! No bit- rer foes could a mortal have than they have been. With devilish perseverance they have followed me, like a ‘k of bloodhounds; from place to place I have flown, endeavoring with my darling babes to escape death, but it seems as if the hand of God, as well as man, is turned against me!” . And the fair speaker burst into a fit of weeping, which lasted for several moments, during which the old hunter gazed grimly into the roaring fire. “Ye mus’n’t guv up the ghost like that, my gal,” he said, at last, his tone betraying the sympathy he felt for her. “ Hayr's one horny old paw that ain't turned ag’in’ you, ance yer scaleson that. Sum- how old Zeke Ransom has been s'picious an’ dis- trustful o° the weemen sex, since when, a young beaver, he got his heart smashed up in a love affair. But ye’re an excepshun, my mighty <i downright dead-in-earnest excepshun, if ever thar was one. “When I met ye down to Yocum, yesterday, wi’ them two babies in yer arrums, an’ ye ‘peeled ter me fer purtection, says I to myself: ‘Zeke Ransom. ef ye don’t take in thet purty fawn, ye're jest the orneriest, ugliest old sallyman- der thet evyer chawed leaden pills. Ther or thing ar’ needin’ friends, an’ w’at’s ter hinder yer takin’ her up ter Ransom Castle?’ So I fetched ye, an’ hayr ye be, snug an’ cozy, an’ still worritin’ about a passel o’ cussed black-legs as ar’ chasin’ ye, and givin’ ye trouble. Great gran’mothers! I do wish my boy Luke war hayr. He’s only a small, lee- tle cuss o° fifteen, is my Luke, but a right peart sensible lad, fer all that, an’ he has a smashin’ way o’ gittin’ inter the graces o’ the female line. He's a rattler, an’ no mistake. But Luke's rarely ever at hum, o' late year. Off up nor’ wi’ a party o’ fur-traders, last I heerd o' him. May be back sumtime atwixt this an’ spring —may not; can't tell. But Luke's an honest one, ef I do Say et, an’ takes after his dad fer that. I'd never steal a pin whin I ked get my paws on a good rifle, or a cache o' peltry.”’ “I am very thankful for your kindness to me, sir,”’ re- plied the young woman, dry- ing her tears. “Yuu are the only one who has shown me the least friendliness since I was turned from home and hunted down by my persecu- tors. But I fear you have made a grieyous error in bringing me here. My ene- mies will be sure to find me, and they will show you ho mercy, old as you are, because you sheltered me under your roof.”’ “Don't ye worrit about old Zeke Ransom, my girly. He’s better 'n six dead men, yit, ef he is past the sixty-third mile- post o’ his life; an’ can secre a dozen funerals enny day, when Injun are plentiful. I opine his old eyes ain't too blind to crawl along a rifle- bar’l, an’ ef yer enemies ‘Il only stan’ off at a respectful distance, hayr’s w'at kin an- gelize ‘em at the rate o’ fivea minute.” And the old hunter chuckled aloud, in anticipation of a good square scrimmage. “No doubt your prowess is wonderful, sir, but you lit- EOMMIE DOCKS My M | Vf, J (E (E(@)