Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 28 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

“All teak ea do is no ms. |S ou ” assured e, pointing oor. ss ” But it is locked.” “Try it and see.” Which he did, and found that it opened without resistance. Stepping outside he closed the door be- hind him, and made his way back toward his hotel. When Buffalo Ben came to realize that he was a prisoner, he uttered something suspiciously like a curse. To be balked in plans that it taken months to mature, was vexatious in the greatest de- ree. 5 His captors were masked, and twelve or fifteen in number, and he rightly came to the conclusion that they were road-agents. — : hat was their object in taking him a prisoner he could not i ine. Surely, it could not be for plun- der, as he not exhibited much money while in Deadwood, except when he had bet with the major. ‘What does this mean?” he demanded, addressing one who appeared to bein command. * Why have you taken me captive; and who are you?” “We're Deadwood Dick’s Night-Hawks,”’ replied Lieutenant Cambre, “and we snatched you just for a little fun while we’re waitin’ for the captain.”’ “Indeed? Well a you let me go in pursuit of that female frien ,’ suggested Ben, “that is, if you've had enough fun.” “Not yet—not till the captain comes. He may want tosee you.”’ “Why should he? He does not know me.” ‘**Dowt he? There is where you mistake. I’ve heard him speak of Buffalo Ben—and I reckon you are he. “Tam. But what did your captain say concerning me?” ‘He always spoke of you asa fearless sort of a cuss. Said there ain't only one as can equal you with the revolver.” **And who is that?’ ‘Himself. Reckon the captain can sock lead about as true as the next one.” ‘*So I heard.”’” Ben never boasted of his own suc- cessful exploits, though he has won many a wager with a revolver. ‘*‘ Whereis your captain, now?” ‘* Over to the ‘ Met,’ I reckon, or some’eres in that direction, tryin’ toscareup danger. That chap can’t live without he’s all the time gettin’ into danger.”’ “Tt would seem so if you eve what the es Miner say. He’s married, eh? Got a pretty wife?” “You're just talkin’, he hes—purty as ary rosebud that ever blossomed. She lives in the sixth toll-gate *twixt here an’ Bozeman. Dick don’t go there much; she mostly comes to see him.” At this juncture footsteps were heard rapidly ap- proaching, and ina moment more the young road- agent chief came bounding into camp. It was Deadwood Dick, the same as we have seen him in days — by—Dick in his weird suit of black, with his black mask, gloves and hat;—the dashing, handsome, youthful prince of the road. His eagle eyes pierced the gloom, and took in the scene at a glance. “Whom have you here, lieutenant?’ he asked, quickly, nodd toward the captive scout. “ Ha! yes, I see—it’s Buffalo Ben, eh? How came you to detain him, Cambre?”’ | “Just for to pass away time, captain. Shall we release him, now?” “No; we have no time to spare, for Old Roxly «nd his Regulators are after me. Fetch along your pris- oner, and let us scoot, lively, for the devils are out strong.”’ So saying, Deadwood Dick s rung on ahead into the darkness. The bonds around Ben's feet were cut, and then he was forced to accompany the road- agents, as they followed their leader. All did not go in a body. They divided into twos and threes, and plunged off in various directions, all meeting half an hour later in a lonely spot on White- wood creek, a mile above town. - It was where the golden stream debouched from a black, narrow ravine, into which a man could barely foree a passage, between the jagged rocks. Above towere mighty tree-fringed mountain crags; below the stream boiled and gurgled like the waters of a witches’ caldron. One by one the road-agents assembled at this point, some panting and breathless from a long, round-about jaunt. Deadwood Dick was the last one to arrive, and a murmur of relief ran through the crowd when he came among them, “T was fearful that ill befallen you!”’ said Car- los Cambre. “Ha! what is the matter? Are you wounded?” “Only a scratch—the loss of blood made mea trifle dizzy!"’ replied the chief, reeling even as he spoke. But he threw off the faintness with a master ‘We're in for a scrimmage, boys. Old Alex Roxly and his Regulators are coming down on us, hot and heavy.” ‘* Which way?” “From all directions. They're scattered all through the town. A dozen or more of ’em dogged me till a few moments ago, when I threw them from the trail. But they'll soon nose us out.” ‘God forbid, in such a place as this. Here we are complctely cornered.” ' “Ay! a, ou are—and there come the devils now!” repli Deadwood Dick, as there was a _— of light from off in the darkness, and a storm of bul- lets rattled harmlessly over their heads. CHAPTER V. MAJOR FAWDON’S CLAIMANT. In an upper parlor of the Centennial Hotel, J. Aaron Wadsworth was taking his ease, ensconced in a large cushioned rocker, his slippered feet elevated to a dangerous angle on a neighboring bookcase. His apartment was furnished in elaborate style for Deadwood, everything being new and of recent manufacture. Upon a stand at his elbow were wine and cigars; the Tight was turned low, for it was evening, and a little burned in the grate. This man, whose money he counted by tens of thousands, was not in a very good humor, for his brows were knitted in a scowl, hands were clench- ed, and his eyes were gleaming. : Nor did oe: BB goo at the entrance > a rawny man, of brutal aspect—a - 5 - zled-looking wretch, with tremen ot beard and deeply-scarred face—one who looked capable of any crime. His dress was buck-skin, throughout, and he was armed to the teeth. he sah gang motioned him to a seat, without rising elf. **So you have come, have you?” he growled, puff- ing harder at his cigar. ‘I think it’s time. I’ve been in Deadwood ten days, waiting for you. You must think a man’s patience will last forever.”’ ‘*Hain’t tho’t much about et,’ replied the giant, seating himself on the opposite side of the little table, and he Jers Beek name to wine and cigars without invi- tation. ‘“‘Got here as soon as I could after gettin’ yer letter sayin’ as you’s comin’ West. Didn't hurry much, neither!” ‘I should say not,’’ with an increased scowl. ** You re taking matters er, too easy.”’ **And why shouldn't I? Hain’t bound ter run an’ obey every wiggle of your thumb. I used ter be your nigger, but times hev changed since sixteen years ago.”’ Wadsworth chewed the end of his cigar reflectively. ‘*I did play it rather shabby on you, that’s a fact,” he said, watching the wreaths of smoke curl upward. ‘* But, then, five thousand dollars was a good bit to pay out, and you wouldn't take less.”’ *“No; nary a durned cent less. You ’ ter pay me the amount ef I'd do the job fer you, an’ I went ter the ’spense, on my own hook, ter git my men, an’ hunt the trail. An’ after I salted away the biggest share o’ the game, you backed out, an’ re- fused to stick ter your bargain.” Wadsworth took the cigar from between cab and stared hard at the giant, a startled exp on upon his features. ‘*[ must misunderstand your meaning, Burk,” he said; “‘you say, ‘after I salted away the biggest share o’ the game.’ What did you mean by that?” Bill Burk laughed, in a hoarse, mocking fashion. ‘** Reckon I meant what I sed,’’ was his reply. ‘“‘I warn’t sure any o’ the time but what you'd play the shenannigan on me; so J killed the nobher, an’ reserv- ed the squallin’ brats fer ne use /”” The man of money leaped to his feet, a horrible oath escaping his lips. “You tell me this, you accursed devil?’ he cried, his face all aflame with rage. ** You tell me that you did not destroy her babes, as you promised—that they are yet living?” ** Exactly! precisely! positively that!’ responded Burk, with a leer. Wadsworth made no hostile demonstration as he received the, to him, startling intelligence. He drop- mage, his aae-siveted aconsiagly uipua (he"ghint, ; ve yu the hard, stern Tahoe contracting his breheed. “I believe you lie!’ he said, at last, his tone cold and angry. ‘“ Had you this hold upon me, you would — been pretty apt to have make yourself manifest ong ago.”’ “Oh! no!” the ruffian laughed, confidently. “I took my time, as Ialways do. Nothin’ ever hurries me ad I wanted to, werry bad, I could ’a’ made you humped, ‘thout usin’ the brats. Blackmail ’d a’ been my weepin in that case; but then I warn’t 0’ a werry revengeful dispersition, so I waited an’ bided my time, well knowin’ yer conshence ’d bring you out here, afore you died. Ye couldn't rest ten ear more wi’out knowin’ fer sure w'at war my feel- ‘s toward you, now could ye?” ‘**Tt was not so much that that brought me west- ward,”’ replied Wadsworth. I wan change, ex- citement; sol came here. I remembered your ad- to be*"Helena, at your last wri to me; I sent for you to meet me, here, but did not that you would bring me such news.” ‘““Oh, I presume not,’ Bill Burk replied, with a awn, ‘* You s’posed you hed no heirs ter that mil- on 0’ yourn—tho’t r&b played a trump keerd an’ won; but you got tuk back a peg in (het calkylation. Thar’ll be heirs enough in the market.” ‘**See: here!’’ Wadsworth bent forward, his small eyes gleaming, redly. ‘Could you trust me again, and Waal. same — we = you?” = > boss, that depends. S’posin’ ye give a fel- ler a eeograftickal ideer of what ye’re isan at, an’ then | ‘ll put yer question ter probate, as the judges say.’ % Exactly. Let us understand each other,” assent- ed Wadsworth. ‘In case I was to pay you the five thousand dollars, how then?”’ “Waal, I'd hev ter see the chips, first, an’ then de- cide, afterwards. livelier he ar’!"" * That is as much to say, that as long as I buy you with gold, yeu are mine. “ Thet’s about ther size of et.”’ “Tl buy you to a certain extent, but no further,” he said, decidedly, as he took a small valise from be- neath the table, and unlocked it. Inside were sever- al rolls of something well wrapped in silk oil-cloth, one of whicb he extracted and undid. Once the out- side covering was removed, a roll of greenbacks was revealed, most tempting to the eyesight. Bill Burk gave vent to a surprised int, as his vision was greeted with this unexpected display. maine The more oats ye feed a hoss the ->——-- “You're full o’ chips, ain't ye?’ he observ: d, robbed In 9 nd cigar. ‘‘ Reckon some bank’s bin ro ey?” ‘** Not that I know of; why?” “* Because you're so fiush’o” stamps.” No reply was made to this, but the man counted out a number of bills from the package, and shoved them toward the ; ‘“‘ There are five thousand dollars,”’ he said gruffly. “Now, can I rely on you to finish the job you com- menced, sixteen years ago—the job which must be finished at all hazards?” ‘*Reckon et would be well fer you to put another thousand along with this, ter make all sure,”’ grinned Burk, triumphantly. Another thousand was accordingly counted out, and shoved across the table. “There! does that appease your appetite?” de- manded Wadsworth. “To a T!” announced the other, rising. “‘T'll hunt up the game, by an’by. As fer ther present, I'm oin’ ter git onter a giorious drunk, over my ortune. -day ter ye, Mr. Wadsworth!”’ And in another moment the giant had quit the room, leaving the scheming man of money to his re- flections. After Bill Burk’s departure, Wadsworth sat for a long time with his face buried in his hands, nor did he arouse until he felt the presence of some living thing near him. He then looked up to a find a man standing before him, with folded arms—one whom he did not remem- ber ever having seen—clad in a hunter’s costume, and armed with rifle and belt weapons. A brawny, handsome fellow he was, of three-and-thirty sum- mers, the very picture of health and strength. “Who are you?” demanded Wadsworth, scowling as only he could scowl. ‘‘ What brings you here, where you are not wanted?” **I don’t know that it makes any difference to you, rticularly,” responded the hunter, in a slow, drawl- ng tone. “Ireckon this are a free country, an’ a fellercan go whar he ge providin’ he’s got enuff elbow-grease to back him. S’pose you'd like ter have me trot out o’ here, but Ill tarry a few seconds, while I tell you somethin’. Ef you listen wi’out in- terruption, I'll be done sooner, heer goes: - “Once upon a time, which time war sum sixteen years age. a brutal massacre war committed up in nothern Montana. The victims war an old man, an’ a young woman, whose name war Wadsworth— Elvira adsworth, the legally wedded wife of J. Aaron Wadsworth of Pennsylvania. The survivors of the massacre, two infant children, were sold to a band of tym Indians, and carried North to the British lines, where ~~! were reared to early man and womanh under the care of an old fur trader and his wife. Now, what I’m drivin’ at, is, do you know where them heirs to the property o’ J. A. Wads- worth are ?” ‘*No!” exclaimed the man of millions, eagerly ** but I would give a deal of money did I know. But a few short hours ag0 I sup that they were dead, until I was told better by a faithless wretch whom I once had in my employ. What do you know of them?” **As much as I hev told you—no more,” replied the hunter. ‘‘ But if I find them, as I hope to, I shall warn ’em to aes shy of their fiend-father, for youar’a fiend, ef thar be such things on earth, Aaron Wads- worth. Look out ferme. I’m huntin’ an’ searchin’, night an’ day, fer them children o’ Elvira Wads- worth, an’ when I find ’em, they’re bound ter hev a chunk out 0’ your property, bet yer boots.” Whereupon the brawny son of the North-west turn- ed to > yg **Hold!”’ said Wadsworth. “What is your name, — that I may know whom I have for an oppo- nent?” *“My name is Luke Ransom, sir,—Lightning Luke they call me, up Montana, Anything you would *'No g; you may go,” was the reply. After the hunter’s departure, Wadsworth sat Shany ine the in- tricate threading of the carpet, for nearly an hour. ‘*How is this an going to end?” he asked him- self over and over, eyes emitting sparks of slum- eerinfo a my year of pi ~ railmy years of planning and plotting, am I at last to be baffled in my deafens? Ko! Techies her children should not have a cent of my wealth, and even though I sacrifice it to the four winds of the earth, they shall not. They must perish, and if Bill Burk cannot do the job, J can and wiil /” . serereaty the unnatural father was terribly in earnest. The next day on his return to his hotel from a long ——— _ —— — se the mines, he found two visitors await- a him in the parlor suit, that had been assigned The most noticeable of the twain was an army officer, in the uniform of a major, with luxuriant Burnsides, and an impudent familiarity confined to a class of Uncle Sam’s promoted boys in blue. The major’s companion was a young lady, deeply vailed—or, a girl, in other words, if her slight ficure was any indication of her age, She was attired in a neat gray costume, and a diamond ring graced her forefinger. The major rose, as Wadsworth entered. ‘Honorable J. Aaron Wadsworth, I presume!" ~he saluted, with a servile bow. “Allow me to intro- duce to you in this oe lady, Miss Stella Wads- worth, my prolegee. am Major Fawdon, honorably retired from service,” ‘Ahem! yes, I see,” said Wadsworth, considera- bly surprised, and at loss to fully comprehend. How am I indebted to you for this interview?” ‘I called on business,” replied the major. “ Six- teen years ago, Mr. Wadsworth, your wile was ilk 0\(0\(0) ecoim cS (C (E()