Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 286 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

, a LL Ne — ~ SS Ats-e-e eseseanee-a «laimed te be the “porter,” and he seemed in some way to be a good deal amused. ‘*Now yeu shut up, Dave French. ‘Pye sounded that youngster on ther way over, an’ [ reckon he desarves good usage, He’s an orphin, he says, an’ anxious to get ahead in ther wor!d— ready to work “n’ all that sort o’ thing, He is green an’ awk’ard, but, I say, give him a sbow.” Long Tom Barney spoke with unusual em- phasis. He was a rough-and-ready fellow him- self, and seldom missed a chance for fun, but be had been thinking all the way over that his inexperienced passenger would stand a poor chance with the rough characters at Buzzard Bar, and he felt rather sorry for bim. Just then, however, there was no discussion for Barney drove away to stable his horses, and the erowd rolled back inside, partly because it was their usual quarters, and partly because they wanted te see the tenderfoot. The latter stood at the bar talking with Jack Magoffla, and his ill-sha form and worse- shaped clothes were only less conspicuous than nis ““grip-sack.” Jack was treating him politely, having first made sure that there was money at hand to pay all bills, for he was not particular what kind of lodgers he housed, so long as the money was sure. “Set right down at a table,” Jack was say- ing, ** an’ you shell hev your supper in a shake. This hyar edifice ain't a New York hotel, an’ ther dinin’-room are right hyar. Squat an’ you kin hey all you want ter eat. What did you say your name was?” ‘‘ Joshua Pepper, sir,” was the meek reply. ‘* We don’t geep a register, but you kin s et, I reckon. t down!” The boy had been looking at the crowd who had filed in, and his face bore an uncertain, half- troubled look. Something about the rough fellows did not please him, but he finally sat down at a table, depositing his baggage be- tween his feet. Once more the crowd smiled. They were some of the roughest men ia Buzzard Bar—Sam Crowell, Pistol Pete, Fighting Sim, Sile Barker and others; ameng whom Dave French, the young fellow who had first accosted the tender- oot, was far from being the least. Dave had been a guardian of sheep, near Hugo, in the days before Gunnison county had made itself known, but he had little in his na- ture that was lamb-like. A hard bey was Dave, a good revolver shot and handy with his fists, and when he took a spite against one of his years he was brie sure to go through victoriously; and with him vic- tory meant a display of all his lawless ways. He watched the Boy Tenderfoot, as the latter fell to eating, with an expression of dubious meaning on his face. He had been thwarted at the start in his attempt to raise a laugh at Joshua’s expense, and now he was planning fresh mischief. It would have been an easy matter to hurl some sort of a missile at the young pilgrim or his a tte but ‘‘ Frenchy,” as Dave was fa- miliarly called, hai one very good reason for not prooeedine to extreme measures. Long Tom Barney, the stage driver, had en- tered the room, swallowed a mixture of “* some- thing hot” and taken a seat near at hand, and Dave knew that he would not stand idle if the ease went beyond a certain point. Against the ex-cowboy he had an old grudge and though he was not one to lift his hand against a man of half bis size without provoca- tion, be would be only too willing to bring Dave to grief. The latter looked up as Sile Barber crossed the room and sat down beside him. ‘‘T say, can’t we hev some fun out o’ this ce vicken?’ Sile asked. _ **I don’t see nothin’ to prevent. Go right ‘* Don’t you want ther job?” Dave hesitated for a moment, ‘Not while Long Tom is around,” he finally admitted. Sile did not need anv ie ye a He knew Long Tom Barney himself, and as he looked across the room at the six-footer, it struck him he might bave an object in hanging around Magoffin’s that nigbt—for Barney had a young wife at the other end of the Bar, and he usually headed for home as soon as he struck the camp, * You're right, Frenchy,” he said, in a sab. daed voice. “Let's lay low an’ give nary a whisper, an’ purty soon Tom | go home. Toen, we'll hev some fun with the tenderfoot.” Fe He’s a harnsome bird, ain’t he?” © me aint no name furit. He’s ther ee ee “Josh, the Boy Tenderfoot. he ee ot + ree | pootiest pilgrim in ther Gunnison. Look at his h a’r! Reminds me o’ ther oxen my dad used ter drive in York State. We called one on ’em Buck, an’ t/other Brindle.” ‘Brindle? That'd be a mighty good name fur this chap. What did he say his name was? Josh Pepper, or suthin’ o’ ther kind. Brindle Josh would jest fit him an’ kiver that ba’r o’ bis as a rainbow covers a hog’s back,” Frenchy spoke viciously, for he had already taken a causeless dislike to the boy pilgrim; and as Sile added his mite to the contribution they managed to say some rather keen things about Joshua Pepper. The latter ate his supper in silence, but he glanced about the room now and then, first at its equipments and them at the men in the red shirts, and in every way he betrayed the fact that he was a ‘stranger in a strange land,” Having finished his supper, he retained his seat; but from his frequent glances toward Jack Magoffia, who was expounding, Eastern news to a@ prospector fresh from the Elk Moun- tains, it would seem that Joshua wished to catch the landlord’s attention, but was too bash- ful to press forward, Meanwhile, Long Tom Barney, failing to see signs of trouble in the camp, gave way to bis desire to roast’ his feet over his ewn stove, Brow, stretched himself, and went out ef the oor. Frenchy and Sile exchan glances, * Their time had come, and, with their plans all ar- ran further delay was unnecessary. Sile arose, stretched himself as carelessly as Barney had done, and then walked forward and took a seat opposite the young pilgrim. ; CHAPTER IIL THE PIPE OF PEACE—AND WAR, BuzZarRD Bar was a young town at the time of which we write, and it will be many years yet before itcan boast of maturity. Its history was similar to that of the majority of the towtis in the Gunnison. Crested Butte was (and is) the metropolis of the county, being the first place settled after the miners pushed through Marshall Pass and found gold beyond; and when the rail- road crawled through the dizzy pass, Crested Butte became the western terminus and the mother town of all the brood beyond, ’ Irwin, Ruby, Gothic, Pittsburg, Buzzard Bar and other towns sprung up one after another, and the fame of ‘‘the Gunnison” s;read even a, the limits of Colorado. , ‘be Bar was usually a quiet place. It had never had a plague of road-agents, and there was little promiscuous shooting done, ex- cept when the citizens sampled too much whisky aud went on a blind trail; but there were law- less characters there, the voleano was liable to burst at any time, and, it may be mentioned par- enthetically, Dave French was a young man not very strongly trusted by those who believed in law and order, With this digression, let us resume our story proper. Sile Barker sat down opposite the boy pilgrim and nodded in what he meant to be a fascinating way. a Wal, young feller,” he said, “how does things strike you? Hope ther Bar pans out ekul ter your expectations,’ ‘““T can’t tell yit,” answered the tenderfoot, more promptly than might have been expected. “*My dad used tew say that one swarler didn’t make a summer, an’ I can’t tell all about this taown in ten minutes.” ‘* O’ course not, o’ course not,” said Sile briskly. “You will need ter look around ter-morrer. Goin’ ter locate hvar?”’ **Maybe. I can’t tell—” “Ef you want ter buy shares in ther best mine in ther Gunnison, ’m your man, I'll sell chea y at—” ; Joshua shook his head. ‘*T hain’t got any money,” he said. “I come here tew make money, instead o’ spendin’ it.” ‘** Want a job?” 4 ‘Yes, that’s what Icome for, an’ Imust have one tarnal quick, tew. Dad give me enough money tew get tew Denver, an’ then I earned enough tew come here, but it’s pritty nigh gone now. The boy heaved a sigh. Hoe was hundreds of ruiles from home, among strangers and nearly penniless, and he had a in Colorado long enough to know that money is there, as every- where else, a hard thing to find and secure. . At this point, Sile fairly boiled over with seeming good will and interest. He leaned for- ward over the table, punctuated his remarks with his finger, which was waved near Joshua’s face, and then poured upon him a flood of what 3 A seemed to be good advice and practical infor- mation, At times, however, the fellow’s eyes wavered and seemed taking in something beyond their table, but, unconscious of premeditated mis- chief, the tenderfoot listened to his new ac- quaintances, Mischief, however, was brewing, and Davo French was at the bottom of it’all. He had slowly made his way around behind Joshuun’s chair, and with a skill worthy of a better cause had succeeded in tying a string to the precivus valise resting between the tenderfoot’s feet. At last the trap was ready for the springing, aud while Josh was listening with wide-open mouth and eyes, be was sea pa am to have his valise’ plide from beneath his feet as though gifted with life. At the same moment Sile Barker abruptly arose, knocking over the table and nearly up- setting the young pilgrim, while the unremoved dishes went elattering to the floor. eee Josh ar saved himself from falling by drop- ping oe fours, but in a moment he was on ao 3 Ms rab jah was et an’ ’arthquake?” Bile Barker demanded, in assumed alarm. _ Joshua scarcely heard him, Hesaw the over. tarned table and the scattered dishes, but his valise was nowhere to be seen. He looked all »k settled on over the room, and then a scared his fa ce, ~ . The miners kept their seate at the ether tables, the majority smiling, and all smoking uncon. poral oli ine rest was Date Re. ‘ who looked the picture of i ‘“Where’s my valise?” the tenderfoet asked, his voice trembling a little. | snl “Yer what?” asked Sile. “Oh, T savvy. "You mean yer grip-sack, Wa-al, I dunne—ain’t it fell inter one o’ yer butes?” ey tat. ‘“‘T reckon et are gone abind ther bar fur a drink,” said Dave French, unable te remain si- ent. ) Neti yi: ‘Have yeou seen it?” the tenderfoot asked. ‘‘No. Dve resigned my orfice as perter,” the ex-cowboy nonchalantly said, 7 Joshua allowed his te wander from Dy ve to Bile, and then over to the otter met. He looked alarmed, as well he might, for in the valise were all of the valuables he had in the Yond, and to lose even that much was a great calamity. He was well aware that he was the victim of a trick, for he had been acquainted with the valise for fifteen years, and w it was not sssed of estrian accompl ents in tself, but he did not know just where te place the blame. ; Some one, either for mischief er re had made way with his ge—whe was Joshua was sharp enough to see a way of learning. He noticed that one of the miners sitting near him neither smiled nor leoked in the least degree amused. On the contrary, his expression satisfied Josh that he did not’ ap- Pepin,” gaid the bo bashfully, “wit yee ‘* Sir, 8 Boyds igain tell me where that vatibe is?” > a ot : ‘*Wal, ther last I see’d on’t *twar a-shootiy* through that thar winder,” was the ready 1 - ply. “‘ Hs fur how it happened ter cst renchy pe a ter be able ter tell you best.” He chuck«d et out!” » nek ai Joshua gave one reproachful glance at Dave French, alias Frenchy, and then darted throng! ci door i seanen of Varna Q ek ee ave and his partner in mischief Barker burst into a loud laugh, and then the foe er sprung forward to bar the onter door; but Tack Magoffin carelessly reached under his bar, brougbt out ea polished six-shooter and covered . the ex-cowboy, ‘‘ Hold up thar!” he said, quietly. “Look this way, Frenchy.” | The young ruffian turned and saw the revol- ver covering bis head. i= ‘“*T don’t mind a leetle fun at ther funeral. boyee,” said Magoffin, cheerfully: ‘“ but that thar door never is locked until midnight, Let gs Nae regard for Mugofftn’s ell renchy had a due or Mugoffin’s skill with his Smith & Wesson, and he turned and went sulkily back to his seat, but brightened up as the tenderfoot re entered, valise in hand, - He had found his property ae pe in good condition, but his look was not that ef a happy n rso . FS gt . eee Tn afeerd I was a leetle igs Sah Fait Frenchy, in a pacific tone. “Ef so, I’m sorry an it sha’n’t happen ag’in, Set down, Josh, set own. There was only one vacant seat, and that was Af (E(@) at the table Ree inn Gib —_-_— + —— es ——S jooks