Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 28 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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12 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. evil hearts, were stern and determined in expression. Plain it was that there was business ahead; vets neither the roughs nor the miner moved to do bat- tle—it was a war of eyes. Ben glanced over shoulder, and saw that Ca- lamity Jane had followed close behind him. Then Ben pushed ahead, his own—or rather Bill Burk’s—revolvers out and cocked, ready for use. Straight through the crowd he elbowed, Calamity faithfully at his side, and put his back to the table, alongside the besieged miner. Things didn’t look quite so bad for Old Rattlesnake, just then. The uninvited bullet that buzzed so close to the shaggy head of Lightning Luke, announced that a crisis was at hand. “'Thunder!”’ mildly ejaculated the hunter; as he kicked aside the expiring fire, and seized Belle, who had been aroused a ae posture. He at once dragged her unceremoniously to the rear of the cave, and pines her behind a bowlder. The hunter also crouched low behind its shelter, and both he and his fair charge listened. No sound came from the front; "way out through the entrance was visible a countless number of twinkling lights, which came from the hill on the op- posite side of Deadwood gulch. “Do you think it was Silver Sal or St. Elmo, who fired the shot?’’ Belle asked, concernedly. “©’ course *twar one o’ their salutes!’ Luke re- plied, his revolver conveniently leveled over the top of the protecting bowlder. *““O’ course et war! Durn their ornery pictures, they cum nigh a-sendin’in my statistics, they did! Lucky I warn’t asleep, or they’d’a’ lambasted me, ure.” “The bullet nearly hit you, then?”’ ‘“Cum wi’in ther width uv an old maid’s lip o’ it, blarsted ef et didn’t! "Sh—!” Bang! went the hunter’s revolver, and so sudden was the report that Befle ety in alarm. “ What is tho matter? Why did you fire?” “ Because I see’d suthin’ ter aimat. Harkee! d’ye hear thet?’’ : A series of groans emanated from near the mouth of the cavern. ‘* You have killed some one!”’ ‘*Not much;—wouldn’t hear that much squeaking ef ther anymile’s dead.”’ The groans finally ceased; either the victim was dead or insensible, or had so far recovered as to crawl away. “Do you see anything?” Belle asked, growing nervous and fidgety, at the hunter’s deep silence. ** Ah! what was that?” A noise it was, coming from within the cavern near the entrance—a noise as if some one had dis- turbed a loosened stone with their foot. ‘*Some one’s got inside, arfter all,’ said Luke, -ranging his gaze around through the gloom. ‘‘ More’s likely it is a dozen *stead o’ one—” Bang! bang! went his revolver at this instant, for his keen eye had caught a glimpse of a moving shadow, and sight was to fire, with him. There was a sharp, piercing, feminine shriek; then all was still. CHAPTER XIV. THE CONFLICT. No, it did not look quite so bad for Old Rattle- snake, when two such wild, venturesome spirits as Buffalo Ben and Calamity Jane sided in with him; and it looked still more as if the roughs might have their hands full, when still another figure pushed through the crowd, and ranged his six-shooter on the defensive—the handsome, stalwart wrestler Walt Drayton, who, coming into the saloon, an taking in the situation at a glance, had wi ly vol- unteered his services. It was only after he was among the defenders, that the miner gave vent to his views of the affair in words, where hitherto he had remained silent. Feel “Whoop ’em up, Eliza Jane!” was his initiatory ejaculation, while a grin of admiration for his points of defense, distorted his red-bewhiskered features. “‘ Blushin’est o’ primroses, w’ar art thou, now? Oh! cum erlong, ye ornery galoots, ef thar’s any fun in ye; prance rite up hyer, an’ stomp on the east eend o’ our durned will ye, an’ see’f we won’t me-e- ow wuss nor any Thomas K. Cats ye ever did see? Oh! cavortin’ lambs an’ bellerin’ buffleroes! wh don’t ye pitch inter us ef yer want musick, an’ lic a hull consterlashun o’ stars out o’ us? We’re ther kind o’ meat ye’re s’archin’ fer, so jist sail in, ther downright han’sumest ye *now how!’ ‘*Yes—cum along ef ye’re in a hurry ter lore the mysteries 0’ oe atory!” cried Calamity Jane, fearlessly, while the looks of Buffalo Ben and Wrest- ling Walt were as good as & guarantee that they were prepared, if not eager to take a hand in the im- pending affray. But for some cause the roughs held aloof. Either they were a for Rattlesnake to strike , or were fearful of the consequences resulting from an open attack. Certain it was that the nd fre party were a powerful quartette, in themselves, a fact which did not escape the eyes of the toughs. In the interval Ben took opportunity to ascertain the cause of the trouble. “What is the Jig, anyhow?” he asked, watching narrowly the sea of scowling faces, just opposite. “Matter?” grunted the miner, with a tremendous yawn—‘‘ why, ye see, I've got a sartin twenty-ounce nuggit, an’ these durned galoots affirm it’s my duty ter tell °em whar I got it, which I don’t allow ar’ reeson'ble; wharfore, I purpose ter say I shan’t tell ’em, an’ they agree ter make a fust-class funeral out o’ me ef T don’t unload, w’ich I won’t, ef I get knock- ed inter ther middle o’ day behind ter-morrer. That’s my caliber; so cum rite elong, ye durn ornery, my onl ea knock-’need sons 0’ pot-’ras’lers!”’ One of the ** toughs”’ now spoke: “Tt’s no use o° you're *us enny o’ yer cast- away slang, old hoss, fer ’ *t goin’ ter do ye ther least bit o’ good. In ther name o’ ther law an’ civil hts o’ ther con hin’, we demand ter know where ye got thet big nuggit frum?”’ *“‘An’in ther name o’ ngle Gabriel, trumpet an’ all, I sw’ar [ll chaw my old dirty shirt fer ter r afore I'll tell ye!” was the announcement of the miner. “Hurra!” applauded Calamity Jane, and the shout was taken up by a dozen or more sympathizing miners, who instantly pushed through to our friend’s rescue, The toughs could no longer repress their desire for combat; besides, 77! saw that re-enforcements were e being constantl d to the enemy’s line. Hank Hurley, the ruffian leader, saw this, and a fierce oath escaped his lips. “Aire ye goin’ ter squeal out w’at we want ter know?”’ he demanded, hoarsely. **NO!” yelled the miner, with emphasis, ‘‘ never / Ye kin baptize me in Salt River; ye kin scorch off ther soles 0’ my feet; ye kin call me a squallin’ Thomas K. Cat, an’ even stomp on my tail, an’ heer me me-e-ow; te kin do all this—an’ more—but may I be eat up by Canadabulls, ef I tell whar frum cometh this nugget o’ ariferous!”’ ‘Then you're a dead man!” was the reply, and quickly the outlaw raised his revolver, and fired straight at the miner’s breast. But, not yet on the death-roll was he from the sa- cred precincts of Potato Gulch. Stagger he could not help, for the ball tore through a fleshy part of his side, making a painful wound; but what cared he for such a trifling scratch. In his years of life he had received many a tough encounter with leaden death; still he lived; and now he leaped forward to- ward his enemies, calling his backers after him. ** Cum erlong, daisies, an’ we'll make these barkin’ coyotes hunt their howtel in less time ’n it takes May ter chase December round ther north pole. Hurra! cock-a-doodle-doo-o-0! sweep ther varmin’ frum ther face o’ Terence Firma! Banish ’em as St. Patrick O’Hoolahan banished ther toadstools frum Connettyeut! Oh! Eliza Jane, show us yer caliber, now, ef ever ye did!” And “ Eliza’s caliber” Sppeeres to be somewhat immense, for, right and left swung the miner’s her- culean arms, and his revolvers flashed incessantly, never a bullet missing its mark; while down went the ruffians, thick and fast, under the destructive fire of those few brave and dauntless spirits, who had vol- unteered their aid. Yet the ruffians fought like devils, bound to win the victory, and there is notelling but what they might have succeeded, had not, when the tide was just about on the turning point, a wild, blood-curd- ing yell of eldritch laughter rung loudly and echoed and re-echoed through the great saloon—a yell that was known to nearly every ear—the terrible token of the presence of Deadw Dick! No one knew whence came the laugh of the young road-agent; there was no time for conjecture, in the din of the raging conflict; yet, certain it was that in deep disguise Deadwood Dick stood within the walls of the Metropolitan, and this very thought added strength and vigor to our little band, and inch by inch they drove back the roughs, continuing the corre fire, until but half a dozen of the original crowd was left; and with howls of rage, they turned and fled, leaving Old Rattlesnake and the others vic- tors of the bloody ground. Four of the volunteers had been killed, and all more or less wounded. Buffalo Ben was severely wounded in the legs, which rendered him unfit to walk. He had fallen ae dead and dying, ssa as the defeated toughs tan ignominious re- treat. roe ig ay conflict he had been lucky enough to keep on his false wig and beard. And that prevented his being recognized by the miners, who crowded aroun Calamity Jane, however, was in the secret of his disguise, and she knew with a woman's instinct that he must be removed, before discovery of his identi- ty was made. ‘*Do you know Buffalo Ben?”’ she said, addressing the Potato-gulchian, in an undertone, careful not to let the words reach other ears. ** Do you know him?” ** Dol!” quoth the original ** Thomas K. Cat,’ with astare. ‘“‘Reckonso! Gay boyee is thet same Ben- jam-in. Oh! primroses, guess I know him; socked eternity inter a passel o’ Reg’laters, as han’sum as ever I see’d t’other evenin’.”’ **for which same job he is uired ter amble about in disguise,’’ announced Calamity. ‘’Sh! don’t make a noise. See! thar he lays, now, plugged full o’ metal pills—him as wears the beard and mousetach. Come! we must git him out o’ here. Where shall we take him?” ‘**Next door but one!’’ decided the miner, quickly, and Calamity noticed that a strange change came over his manner of speech. “Here! you wrestler, help me a hand!”’ And poor Ben was raised between the two, and carried from the saloon, Jane close behind, support- ing his head in her hands. traight to the shanty of Masked Maude, the for- tune-teller, the wounded youth was carried, and into the front room, the Potato-gulchian seeming perfect- ly familiar with the surroundings. The proprietress herself was absent, so Rattlesnake made free to use whatever might add to the comfort of Ben. He was laid upon the cot bed, and the red-whis- kered miner made an inspection of his body in search —— of wounds. Several were found upon his lower limbs, near the knee, none of which were of any ac- count except for inconvenience. One in the breast, near the region of the heart, however, was more — ith a skillful hand Rattlesnake dressed the wounds; then, leaving Wrestling Walt and Calamity a iat he went forth in search of the fortune- er. ‘‘'Who is the chap, pard?’’ Drayton ventured to ask of Calamity, whom he mistook for one of his own sex, on account of her garb. He had not yet learned that the wounded youth was other than one of the rough, grizzled miners, who had so generous- ly volunteered in the conflict. Calamity was about to reply, when Ben raised him- self upon his elbow. - e off this false hair, will you, some one?” he asked, his voice trembling. He was very weak from a great loss of blood, and his head ached terribly. Calamity quickly relieved him of the wig, beard and mustache, and the handsome, golden-haired scout looked like himself once more, except that his face was very white. ‘*By Jove! youare Buffalo Ben!’’ Drayton cried, in astonishment, coming forward to the bedside. ‘Yes, lam Buffalo Ben. Why? you do not know me—or, I don’t you, ‘cept as a wrestler!’’ ‘** Your name is not so obscure here in Deadwood,” replied Walt, with a smile. ‘ Yes, 1 know you, by sight. In fact, 1 was just hunting for you, when the saloon jamboree attracted my attention.”’ ‘**Hunting for me?’ Ben livened up a little at this. ‘** How’s that? why were you hunting for me?”’ ** You have a sister, have you not?” “A sister!’ The young prince of the pistol sat straight upright in bed, unmindful that his wounds es oiveah at each move. ‘‘ Whatdo you know of er 99 “Very little, — except thet I had the pleasure o’ rescuin’ her from a female wretch they call Silver Sal. With the aid of a miner, I carried her up toa cave on the mountain, and here Iam in search of you, by her orders.” that took away all Ben gave a whoop of jo thoughts of his suffering, and put his hand in that of the wrestler. **Pard!”’ he said, huskily, ‘‘ you have done me the eatest favor man could do me—have done what have been endeavoring to do for the last year, namely, rescue my sister from a terrible captivity. I shall never know how to be grateful enough—”’ Here the — ceased speaking; his head swam a strange fog came before his eyes, and he fell back senseless upon the couch. He had overdone, and it was full an hour before he regained his senses. Then there was a eg look about his eyes and lips, that one does not like to behold on a sick person. Calamity observed it first, and called Drayton's attention to it. “It don’t look right,’ she said, with a compression of the lips. ‘‘I don’t like it.” ‘**Do you think—”’ began the wrestler, but she mov tioned for him to be silent. The young scout lay in a sort of trance; his li moved, and the two words he uttered were scarce audible: “ Alice! Belle [”’ , ‘* His sister and sweetheart!”’ said Calamity, com- prehending. ‘‘They had best be fetched, for—” “For what?” ‘* For Buffalo Ben is sinking fast toward the grave!”’ was the ae ** Do you Know where his sweetheart is, and who she is?’ ‘““Yes; her name is Stella. We left her not two hours ago, at the Centennial Hotel, where she stops.”’ eThen I will go for her, and then for Miss Jerome,” decided Walt. ‘‘ As you say, it looks as if the boy’s a-goin’ fast.”’ e borrowed a few cartridges and loaded his re- volver; then went out into the night. But a few steps had he gone, when he met a woman, hurry- ing swiftly along as though in haste. ‘You are ed Maude!” Walt said, positively, stopping her. He saw that her face was masked, indeed, and that her attire was very rich, ‘‘ Well!’ she cried, sharply, ‘‘ what of it?’’ “A good deal. Did a red-whiskered miner, Old Rattlesnake by name, send you?”’ “Go on, then! Buffalo Ben is dying;” and the wrestler hurried on, leaving the fortune-teller star- after him. n the steps of the Centennial Hotel, Drayton came in contact with J. Aaron Wadsworth. “Hello!” he ejaculated, stepping back; “ excuse me; but is there a young lady stopping here by the name of Stella?—Stella something-or-other; hanged if I know what!” with a laugh. The man of millions stared. ** No, I think not!” he said. ‘‘ She went away last evening; Major Fawdon says he has seen nothing of her since.”’ Major Fawdon came out as the millionaire was speaking. ~* Ah! here is Fawdon, now. Hey! major, suppose pet heard nothing of Stella? A young man is ere inquiring after her.” “Eh?” The major sauntered up, his eyes blood- shot, and breath smelling very strongly of whisky. His hands were also done up in slings, crippled, and not.for use. “ Yes, 20 girl came back, short time ago. Said a rough carried her off, and tried to murder her, but he got shot, and so she got free. What the devil do you want, young fellow?” this to the wrestler, in a gruff, surly tone. “T have a message to deliver to the young lady OOO) Goim SS (C