Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 295 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

6 . (nn a tee _—- = ee ne Oe meee. cee» - eg ers we me Oe we wen ee = nee ee mething told me that the man I speak of was rkansaw Pete.” ‘““Can you tell me what he looked like?” Mr. Vintrey described the man of his dream. ‘“‘That’s the King of Quartzville himself!” ex- claimed Hersey. ‘I don’t want to worry you, Mr. Vintrey, but there must be something in that dream, since you saw in it a man you never saw when you were awake, There’s a good bit in dreams, anyhow.” ‘*T believe there is, in some dreams,” replied the ranchran, “and this dream has troubled me so that [am going to ride into Quartzville, and perhaps further. The trail that my folks ought to take leads through that town, though they seemed to be so far trom it in my dream. I shall not feel easy until [ see them or hear from them.” Frank Vintrey saddled a bay mare, and rode away toward Quartzville, reaching that town before noon. He hitched his mare in front of a store, and was looking about for somebody who would be likely to give him information, when he was rudely accosted by a rough-looking man who carried two revolvers in plain sight. oe mays stranger, ain’t your name Frank Vin- ey ” * Yes,’”’ replied the ranchman, “Thought so. You’re jest the galoot I’m lookin’ arter. I was gwine to ride out to your place—I and some other fellers.” ‘* What is your business with m:>?” ‘Jest a little law business. I’m Jeems Jobe, the sheriff, and I arrest you on this yer war- rant, ‘* Arrest me? Me? What for?” ** Cattle-stealin’.”’ nel a cattle-stealing? What sort of joke is “har ain’t no joke about it, It’s dead ‘arnest, as you’ll find out.” ‘* But this is absurd. Why should I want to steal cattle? Ihave plenty of my own,” “Too many, some folks say, and that’s what’s the matter.” “There is something wrong about this,” in- sisted Mr. Vintrey. “If it not a joke, it must he a mistake. Is it really a warrant that you bave there?” “You jest bet itis. Thar you see it in black an’ white, with Jedge Toler’s name at the bot- tom. Come vibe E and see him, now, and don’t a to make trouble, or you'll git the wust of t. As quite a crowd of men had collected about them, all of whom evidently sided with the sheriff, there was sade for Mr. MA le to do but to go with that official, accompanied by the crowd. Judge Toler, so-called, was found in his of- fice, a shanty adjoining one of Arkansaw Pete’s saloons, He was a short, bulky man, with a fat face, smal] eyes, and a bulbous red nose, Jim Jobe produced his prisoner, and handed the writ to Toler, who indorsed it, “‘ Sarved by ketchin’ bim and fetchin’ him.” ‘““Now,” said the court, “we will hear the case of the people of Quartzville ag’inst Frank Vintrey, charged with cattle-stealin’.” ‘Tf you please,” remarked Mr. Vintrey, “‘as this is a strange and unexpected accusation, I would like to have the assistance of a lawyer.” “You don’t need to worry about a lawyer,” replied Toler. ‘‘ Chance enough for that afore hangin’-time comes. This yer is only an exam- ination pro forma sine quinine. That’s Latin, and I reckon aor don’t onderstand it; but the court does, and that’s enough. Whar’s the wit- ness, Blue Tophet?” One of the roughest of the crowd stepped for- ward, and Mr. Vintrey recognized him asa well- - known cattle-thief and desperado, who was known in those parts as Blue Tophet. He was the same fellow with whom the ranchman had d the ‘“‘little difficulty” about some stray steers, of which he spoke to Stephen Hersey, Mr. Vintrey jumped up, thoroughly angry. “T would like to know,” be demanded, ‘‘ whether the evidence of such a rascal as that is to count against a respectable white man?” ‘‘Set right down, prisoner,” ordered Toler. “Tt is contempt of court to abuse the witnesses for the persecution, and it will only make-the thing wuss for you; you had better keep quiet. Thé witness will tell bis story.” Blue Tophet proceeded to testify to the effect that in the fall of the previous year he had been the owner of half a dozen steers, and that he was driving them to Quartzville for the purpose of selling them, when be was set upon by the dag oe? and two other men, who forcibly took cattle from him and drove them away. He Fearless Phil. had since learned that the prisoner had sent the cattle to the East with a drove of his own. Mr. Vintrey asked the witness a number of questions; but, though he kept his eyes fixed on oA ied he stuck stoutly to the story he had told. ‘“‘The court is dry,” remarked Toler at the close of this cross-examination. ‘‘ Mr. Sheriff, step in next door and tell Tom to send me four fingers of the same.” The ranchman rose and made a little speech for himself, He said that he was known in those parts to be an honest, law abiding and responsible man, and that his word ought to be worth at least as much, if not a great deal more than the word of such a person as Blue Tophet, who was known to be neither honest nor law-abiding nor re- sponsible, The cattle in question, he stated, were stray steers of his own, and he could prove that they belonged to him by his foreman and others, if he should be allowed to send for them. When he hunted the cattle, and found Blue Tophet driving them off, he simply took possession of his own property, as he had a lawful right to do. To this there was no reply. The “four fin- gers of the same” which the court bad ordered was brought in, and was speedily absorbed. ‘‘The fact is,” said Toler, ‘‘ that this sort of thing has been goin’ on too long. A good many folks have wondered how it is that the ranch- men about yere raise so many cattle, and git rich off o' nothin’. A reliable witness has jest showed up one way they have of doin’ the trick. What the ner says for himself ain’t evi- dence, and don’t count. Thar’s only one wit- ness, and he’s for the persecution. So I must send the prisoner to jail, to stay thar ontil his reg’lar trial comes off.” r. Vintrey was astounded. He had under- stood that Quartzville was ‘‘run” by the hard cases of the town, but had not supposed that things were as bad as this. It seemed to him that Toler’s proceeding must be intended to ex- tort money from him, or for some worse pur- pose, and that it was useless to resist it or protest against it. He looked around for a friend or sympathizer, but found none, The room was filled with the rowdy element, and he could hardly t to find any friends in that town, as he did uot trade with its merchants, and was unknown in its saloons. But he saw in the front of the crowd a tall and large man whose appearance startled him. It was Arkansaw Pete, the man of his dream! The ranchman sprang forward, pointing his fingers excitedly at the tall man. ‘Ts it you, Jim Boyce?” he exclaimed. ‘Is this your doing? What infernal deviltry have you got on foot now?’ Arkansaw Pete started back and turned pale at this assault, but quickly recovered himself. ‘‘TIs there any man here named Jim Boyce?” he asked, as he looked around. ** Looks as if the prisoner mought be a leetle off his nut,” remarked Toler. ‘‘Take him to the cooler, Mr. Sheriff.” Frank Vintrey was led away, followed by the crowd, to the Quartzville jail, a substantial log building. He had set out to search for bis daughter, and bad succeeded in getting into prison. CHAPTER VIII. WILD JIM, THE SOLITARY. Bert Oris and Phil Henning’s report of the disappearance of all the stock caused great Oon- sternation inthe camp. It was the general con- clusion that the enemies who had attacked them the night before had adopted that sneaking scheme in the belief that they would thus have the party at their merey, and would be able to capture them at their leisure. The two trainmen, who regarded being “ set afoot” as the greatest of evils, were utterly bewildered by the turn affairs had taken. “What can that man want of me, and why Coes he persecute us so?” despairingly exclaimed abel. ‘‘We sreic a deuce of a pickle now,” said David Darke. But Phil Henning and Bert Otis were inclined to take a more cheerful view of the matter. “There is one consolation,” remarked Phil. “T couldn’t guess what we would ever do with the teams when we got into the hills; but we won't be bothered ahout that now, anyhow.” ‘‘That’s so,” said Bert. ‘‘ We may say that we are foot-loose, and I shouldn't wonder if ue a loss of the stock proves to be the best t could haye happened to us, Among the hills and r we ought to be able to keep out of —-e@-<c8-- «© oe Oe OO wee Oe eee te ee o+e SA PDA 0 AP he ee ee ee 98 GE Oe re et the reach ef those scoundrels, and I can’t see why we should not find our way to Mr. Vin- trey’s ranch,” | ‘But how will we live while we are wander- ing among the hills?” asked Mabel. ** Oh, that is an easy question to answer. We will take a supply of provisions from the wagons, and if that gives out we have our rifks, Dave and I have traveled ever so far without coming in sight of a settlement.” It was clear that it would never do to stay by the wagons and fight it out there, as their ene- mies, if so inclined, could easily cut them off from water, and their only chance of safety was to push on into tle hills. his being settled, the sooner they were off the better. The men strapped blankets on their backs, loaded themselves with as much food as they could conveniently carry and a supply of am.- munition, and the party trudged away toward the west, occasionally looking back gloomily at the wagons, Shortly after vet had passed out of sight of those monuments of disaster, they were wate: Se to a standstill by finding themselves at the edge of a canyon. It was not one of the monster canyons that excite the wonder of those who see them for the first time, and they could easily enough descry the bottom of the valley where a rapid stream tumbled over rocks and bowlders; but it was, as Bert Otis said, *‘ no slouch of a ravine,” and the side on which they found themselves was very difficult of descent. They scattered along the edge, looking for a break in the wall of rock, and Phil Henning was the first to find what was considered a practica- ble route. The men climbed down laboriously, but witb. out incurring serious danger, and Mabel’s task was considerably lightened by the assistance of Bert Otis, who stayed at her side and helped her over the worst pleces—an assistance which she seemed rather to court than to decline. So they safely reached the foot of the declivi ty, and were proud of the feat when they looked back at the point from which they had started, ‘‘Don’t you see that we are better off than we were with the wagons?” asked Phil. ‘If those scalawags bunt us again up Mh ae they will never get their horses down here, and it will worry them to follow us, anyhow.” A‘ter a rest and a lunch they went on, work- ing their way down the valley. t was difficult‘and tedious traveling; but the consoled themselves with the reflection that it would also be difficult for others if they should be pursued, and that by Satoh the course cf the stream they would probably be drawin nearer to the vicinity of Frank Vintrey’s ranch. As the day drew near its close they began to look about for a suitable shelter for the night, or at least for a better camping place than the stony bottom of the ravine afforded. Phil Henning, whose eyes were of the cet est, spied a hole in the rock, part way upt cliff, and called the attention of his companions oO it. ‘‘Buch holes often open into caverns of some size,” besaid. ‘If that one does we may find a hiding place as well as a shelter.” ‘Provided that it is not already occupied by some wild beast,” suggested cautious David arke, ‘* Well, it is worth looking into, and here goes for a squint at it.” Phil clambered up the rocks, followed by the others. Mabel, who insisted on going with the rest, was considerably assisted by Bert Otis. The hole was Jarger than it had seemed to be when they locked at it from below, and Phil erceived that he could easily enter it on bis ands and knees, He crawled in, and quickly whispered back to. those behind him: “It isa big hole, sure enough, and [ believe there is a light in there. It looks like it, any- ow,” | He went in further, and called baek to his companions: ‘“T guess you may come in. This is ne wild beast’s den, I am pretty certain.” David Darke and one of the trainmen en- tered the hole, and Bert Otis’s curiosity was so ah; that he could not help followin m. Pail, bled over who was still in advance, stam something, and feltofit. — If was plainly a of man's handiwork. In fact, it was a . | : ““We must try to get a light somehow,” paid Phil “This hole is ‘or has been.* — | JOO “om (C S com