Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 295 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

—_— Fearless Phil. a wpom the stirring town of Quartzville. The real life of the place did not begin until after dark, when the miners and cowboys flocked in for dissipation and excitement. The Quartzville jail was notin what may be Called the “‘ business”? part of the town. It was within hailing distance of the bling | whisky. ‘*My gullet was nigh growed together,” he said; “but that opened it up right quick. Seems, though, it has a sorter queer tasta Don’t you think so, Bill?’ ‘* Mebbo it does taste a leetle pecooliar,” re- plied the other; ‘‘ but I’m too human a critter to ever find fault with whisky.” Though business had brought Dan Gilligan | The sentry who was stationed in front of the | to the jail, he seemed to be in no burry to at- door sighed as he paced his beat with his rifle | tend to it. He did not proceed to “ ’dentify on his shoulder, and occasionally looked long- | the prisoner,” nor did he even look at him, ingly at the lights which spoke to him of jolly | but entered into a chatty conversation with crowds, | the two guards, who soon finished the bottle. It would be so much better to be there, he | After a while they began to yawn, stretch thought, than guarding a gloomy jail. their hands, rub their eyes, and show in vari- The only animate object that could interest | ous ways that drowsiness was overpowering him about there wasa large and handsome dog, | them. which came trotting up the street, stopped in Dan watched them, ‘slowing up” in his front of the jail, took a good look at it, and | talk, until Sam fell from his seat to the floor, went on. and lay there. “Splendid dog that,” remarked the man. The other, who was not quite so far gone, In a few minutes the dog came trotting | roused himself, and stared at Dan with sleepy back, went nearer to the jail, passed around | eyes. | | lights of its drinking-saloons and gambling- houses, but was comparatively secluded and solitary. it, returned, took another look at the build- “W’ot’s er matter?’ he drowsily asked. ing, and seemed inclined to remain in the | ‘‘ Hev yer been a-p’isonin’ of us?” vicinity. ‘‘Not a bit of it, Bill,” answered Dan. ‘‘ Wonder what that dog is hangin’ around ‘*'Then it’s some durned hocus,” here for,” said the sentry. ‘“‘ Wish [ owned Bill rose from his seat, and Dan rose at the that dog. Never saw him in Quartaville | same time. afore, MaybelI can coax him up and ketch The young man passed his arm around the bim,” body of the guard, tripped him, and leid bim He tried various blandishments such as are | gently on the floor, where he was soon quiet supposed to prevail with dogs; but this one, | enough. though he wagged his tail and did not appear to ‘‘What does this mean?” demanded Mr, Vin- be unfriendly, kept well out of the reach of | trey, as Gilligan turned and faced him. his perfidious flatterer. “Tt means, sir, that your friends have come Tbe attention of the sentry was then at- Follow me, and tracted to a young man who came walking down the street and approached the jail. A warning hail brought him to a halt. “Why, don’t you know me, Bill Quaid?” he asked, The sentry lowered his rifle. “Tt? Dan Gilligan,” said be. ‘Glad to aee you, my boy. How’s the Gold Brick, and what are you doin’ yer at this time of night?’ “The Brick is all right, Bill, and Iam here on biz,” “ Queer sort of biz it must be.” “Not very. The bors sent me to ’dentify the prisoner in there—to see if I know him, 30's I can be « witness aginst him.” “The boss,” was one of the titles of Arkan- saw Pete, and Bill Quaid respected it acoord- ingly. As Dan was a barkeeper for “the boss,” his word was sufficient. “That’s all right, Dan,” said Quaid. ‘I say, Dan, as you are a barkeeper, you might have a bit of whisky bandy.” Dan produced a bottle, and the sentry took a hasty swig. ‘‘T shall have to lock you in,” he said, as he | touch that gun,” he said. opened tha door, ‘‘ Knock when you want to | really means it{” come out.’? A few feints toward the rifle convinced him Gilligan went at once to the room in which | that the dog really did mean it. to take you out of this place, step up lively.” Mr. Vintrey, nearly overcome by joy and surprise, at once followed his deliverer to the front door, at which Dan gave three distinct raps. In the meantime a somewhat different scene had been acted outside. The sentry, though he bad not drank heavi- ly of Dan’s ‘“‘ doctored” whisky, found himself growing ‘drowsy, and paced his. beat more rapidly to keep awake, But bis drowsiness in- creased, ‘Reckon Ill have to take a chaw 0’ ter- backer,” he said. Placing bis rifle against the door, he went down into his pockets for a plug of tobacco and a knife, and helped himself liberally. As he turned to get his rifle he was startled by a savage grow], and saw the big dog which he bad coveted facing bim, and showing a dan- gerous set of teeth. He reached again for the rifle, and the dog made a fiercer demonstration. ‘‘ Seems like that dog don’t want me to ‘Wonder if he eee Mr, Vintrey was confined, “Maybe he’s mad,” muttered the drowsy That gentleman lay on a rude bed, with bis | sentry, ‘ Reckon a pistol bullet will fix him, clothes on, apparently asleep. The two guards | anyhow.” were nodding on chairs against the wall, All of them, including the prisoner, started up when Gilligan entered, and the guards ex- pressed both pleasure and surprise at seeing him there. ‘The Boss told me to come and ‘dentify the prisoner here,” replied Dan. | But, as he moved his hand toward his pistol | “I wonder now, Danny,” said a guard, ‘‘if belt, the dog darted forward, as if ready to spring at his throat. “He won’t have that, either,” said Bill Quaid. ‘Looks like I’m treed. Queer dog that. I may as well sit downa bit, and maybe he'll go away.” He sat down and fell into a doze, and a man stepped from the sbadow of the building and watched him. The sentry awoke in a start. ‘“‘'There’s that cussed dog yet,’’ he muttered. “Reckon Dll bave to boller for help. I feel powerful sleepy, somehow. Don’t know what's you’ve got a bit of the Gold Brick about you, lyin’ around loose in your pockets or tied up in anythin’ .” “Pye got a bit of it wrapped up in glass- ware,” be answered, as he produced his bottle. ‘« Bill Quaid outside took a turn at it, and you are welcome to what is left if you want | got into me.” it. Reckon you find it right tiresome here,| Three raps on the door within startled him, boys.” and he to his feet. ‘Mighty slow,” sald one of the guards, as “ All right, Dan,” he said, aa be felt in his he raised the bottle to his lip, pocket for the key. | “Hold on, Sam!” cried the other, as the | At that instant two men rushed swiftly and contents of the bottle disappeared rapidly. sileatly from the two sides of the house, seized i ee al —_ —- SO OO OTE TS “ROOTES Oe ee ee we -@« ~_ —_—e en eee - _ Ce te ae eee ——— 227 e@ Sam smacked his lips as he passed the | him, and bound and gagged him before he could utter a cry. ‘Quiet, now, Rip!” said the younger of the two, as he pulled out the key and opened the jail door. Dan Gilligan emerged, followed by Mr, Vintrey. ‘‘Who are you, and what does this mean?” asked that gentleman. : ‘We are triends of your daughter, sir, and have come to take you to her,” replied Bert Otis. ‘‘ Please hurry, sir, as there is not a bit of time to lose.” | A glance at the two men assured Mr. Vin. trey that they did not belong to Arkansaw Pete’s crowd, and he followed them without further question. They bad to run about a hundred yards tea hollow where their horses were concealed. As they crossed the road they heard shoats at a little distance. As they emerged from the hollow and mounted, they heard the clattering of hoofs coming from the direction of Quartaville, “They are after us,” said Das. “Quick work that. Follow me, now, I know the short cuts, and can give those cusses the slip.” Dan took the lead, and struck off into the hills at the north, soon resching a ravine which seemed to be impassable in the darkness, But he pushed bis horse into it, skillfully winding his way among the obstructions, followed closely by the others in single file. Before reaching the head of this ravine he turned sharply to the left, ascended a wooded ridge, and kept along its summit for a little distance. Then he desceuded to another rav- ine, which was traversed with comparative ease, and finally brought the party out in what may be called their own canyon. Their pursuers were powhere in sight or hearing, nor had anything been seen or beard of them since leaving tbe first ravine. “We did give’em the slip,” said Dan, as the party came toa halt, ‘‘They must ha’ beaded nor’west, while we have been goin’ about nor'- east. We are all right now. But-—-hellol— one, two, three—whar's the fourth man ?” CHAPTER XII, | ws PHIL AS A FORLORN HOPE, ALL looked about in amazement, and per- ceived for the first time that Bert Otis was not with them! The nigbt was so dark, and all had been so closely oceupied in picking their way and fol- lowing their leader, that they had not thought of each other, and the absence of Otis was a blow quite unlooked for, ‘‘He may bave straggled bebind,” suggested Darke. ‘‘ Let us wait bere a while, and he may come up,” ; bay They waited, but he did not come up, and a sense of calamity settled down upon them beavily. ‘‘When did you see bim last, Mr. Darke?’ asked Dan Gilligan. ‘“T bave not seen him since we struck the ravine where we bad such rough work, You were in the lead, Mr. Vintrey next, I was third, and Bert brought up the rear, He was well able to take care of bimself, and I never thought of looking after him.” ‘Hach of us had as much as be could do to look after himself, and that’s a fact.” ' “ What do you suppose has become of him?” “Well, sir, I reckon he has either lost his way, or his borse has tumbled, or they’ve got him.” ‘That last thought is terrible, Dan, I am | going back to look for him.” ‘No you won't, sir, beggin’ your pardo or plain speakin’.. You would be sure to your way, and the chances are that you would git picked up by the Quartzville crowd,” _ “JT can't bear to go on without him, Dan,” ‘But you’ve got it to do, sir. Nothin’ can be done to-night. I cealdn’'t begin to foller our track back, myself. We must trust to. | and to-morrer. I bope the young (E(O) NACE] ON o Ne) cS