Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 32 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

7 al = - eee eee —e ---- © tes ---— - _ — _ — - . — SP ra oem me 10 Suatching a cushion from a chair, he held it fiercely over the victim’s face, so that he could not breathe. aa In five minutes he rose to his feet, witha satisfied chuckle. The ‘‘ Governor” lay white and lifeless upon the carpet—smothered,” After replacing the cushion in its chair, the clerk secreted the package of counterfeit notes behind a tall book-case, and then, kneeling down beside the prostrate form, called loudly for help, | In an instant there came the sound of hurry- ing footsteps, and Mrs, Grover, followed by a half-breed servant, burst into the room, ‘‘ What is the matter?’ she gasped, glancing down at the silent figure, then bursting into tears and sobs. ‘Quick! bring some water!” ordered the villain. ‘‘Governor Grover fell from his chair while we were engaged in conversation, and has only fainted, I guess. His morning walk was too much for him. Don’t be fright- ened, dear Mrs. Grover; you will soon see your husband once more himself!” Water was brought and liberally dashed into the white face of the speculator. But to no avail, Life could not be restored to the clay where life was not, Governor Grover was dead! Miss Lotta soon returned from her walk, and she and her mother wept in silence over the good father and husband. Lingering a short time to offer consolation to the grief-stricken wife and daughter, Au- brey Lee promised to call the next day, and then.took his departure from the mansion, Mounting his horse he rode swiftly away to- ward the settlement. CHAPTER XI FOURTH O’ JULY AT DWIGHT’S. THE lucky termination, for Cecil Burnett, of the battle at Dwight’s that day, was only one. of the topics of conversation in the evening. at the tavern. The news of “‘Governor” Gro- ver’s sudden death had reached the settlement, and was also a theme for discussion among a, class. - Cap’n Bob and his half score of men re- turned ,f dark, and took up their quarters in the gambling saloon, but were careful not to let fall any hostile word or action, for Cap Woodchuck and his right bower, Grinning Moon, had engaged board for a short time of the worthy Jonas: and, too, their band of swarthy Pawnees were not far away, en- camped on the crest of a neighboring knoll. Cecil came down into the bar-room after supper, looking pretty well battered up and feel ing uncomfortably sore and stiff from his nu- merous wounds. “Hello!” cried Cap Woodchuck as he made his appearance; ‘“‘hyar kums ther North American Buster; skin me fur a buffaler ef he ain’t. Hey, thar, Buster, guv’s yer paw! I want ter examine them knuckles 0’ yern. By ther Polekat, ye did fearful work wi’ ’em!” The young Philadelphian shook the ranger’s hand, heartily. | “No. I only did my share,” he replied, modestly. “I feel a little sore and stiff, though, after the scrimmage,” ‘Oh! wait till ye git uste ter sich life, an’ ye won’t mind a few slashes a day,” laughed Cap. Woodchuck. “In fact, ye’ll grow ter like em, sir. Why, Perciffic Pellerkans an’ Goat Gruel, boyee, J like nuthin’ better nor ter git three er four jabs o’ er knife every twenty- four hours. Et keeps er feller frum super- flewus blood, an’ makes ’im feel like’r North Amerykan Polekat.” * And to all appearances, the iron-framed speaker believed in this singular logic, for he hopped about, despite the fact that his move- ments started the blood afresh from several gaping wounds; he was as lively as a cricket. The death of the miners and border ruffians had cast quite a damper over the frequenters Beadle,s. Half-Dime Library. of the gambling. saloon, and but few were at- tracted to the gaming-table that evening. Captain Bob and his pards were huddled to- gether in a rear part of the room, and were conversing in low whispers. Several times the outlaw chief would utter an approving oath, and wildly gesticulate his views of their secret topic, but the turning of the masked face of Cap. Woodchuck toward him, had the effect of reducing the violence of their conversation. During the evening, as he sat tipped back in his chair, half asleep, Cecil was startled by hearing a familiar voice in his vicinity, ex- claim: ‘‘ Please, gents, would you be so kind as to give a few pennies to the off-cast son of an earl, in straitened circumstances? Only a lit- tle of the gold, sirs, that you are spending for liquor, would help thy humble servant amaz- ingly.” ‘Perciffic Pellerkans!” exclaimed Cap, W oodchuck, turning half around from the bar, with a glass of ‘‘tonic” in his hand, ‘an’ North Amerykan Polekats; hyar’s a quare kerackter, dash my Goat Gruel ’f ’tain’t. Hey, thar, old man, kum wp! Which shall it be—whisky- straight, cock-tail, ‘tonic,’ or ‘pizen? ” ‘‘ Neither, sir ranger. My lips hath never et been polluted with the distilled spirit of ell! May they never be!” “ Holy Polekats!” the borderer; ‘‘don’t “ibe corn-juice! al, dash my Goat Gruel! That ar’ strange. Must be’r sancktimonewes chap, ain’t ye? I'll wager thar “hain’t ernuther cuss in ther crowd, who don’t ’bibe ockcasional- ly; an’ he’s er miserable kritter as’ll go back on corn-juice, What ye want hyar, ennyhow, boss?” “*Only a dime, sir, or a quarter with which to help the widows and orphans. Please, sir.” “‘Widders and horfans, ar’ et? Wal, now, I jedge I kin go ye on thet. I’m a widder my- self—no, not er widder, but a horfan! Thet’s it. An’ then, thar’s Dew Drop, my Injun squaw, an’ ther darter of Grinnin’ Moon, hyar. She’s li’ble ter be er widder, w’en my kereer ar’ eended, w’ich may be soon. Perciffic Peller- kans! g’ess I will lift ye;’ and here Cap. Woodchuck slipped a gold piece into the Harl’s hand. ‘‘Thar, now, cl’ar out, ole hoss.” Presently Uncle Sam passed by where Cecil was sitting, eagerly watching for a chance to draw him aside, for a little conversation. Jo- nas had, he recollected, told him that the un- couth beggar was the agent of Hurricane Nell, and he resolved, if possible, to ascertain the whereabouts of the wild beauty. The Earl started violently, as Burnett tapped him on the arm. ‘‘Come in here. I want to speak with you a moment,” said the lawyer. Uncle Sam eyed him suspiciously from under the rim of his hat ‘What do you want?” he growled. ‘¢ Come in here,” replied Cecil, drawing into an empty beer-stall. When they were seated opposite each other, ata low table, Cecil continued: “You are the agent of Hurricane Nell; there! don’t deny it.” _ “Who told you so?’ ‘‘The taveru-keeper.” ‘© W ell—what if I am her agent?’ “Where is she?” ‘*T cannot tell you. She is safe.” “Very probably she is. Where does she live?” ** T cannot tell you.” ‘You must!” “‘T cannot—more, will not!” ‘Why not?” “ Because I am not.allowed to tell her place of residence, to any one,” ** But I must see her!” ‘What for? I can take a message.” “‘[ want to see her, personally. I wish to arrange with her to accompany me to Cherry Valley.” : ‘*T know better,” snapped the beggar. ‘* You do not have to go there until the 8th of August. She will see you, ere that time.” *‘How do you know of the date of my next proposed journey?” “Oh! I found it out. You told her.” “Yes, soI did. Then I cannot see her?’ ‘Why do you wish to particularly see her? Have you anything of importance to say?’ “Yes; something of vast import. I wish to tell her that I love her, and ask her to be- come my wife,’’ replied Cecil, earnestly. The tramp started, strangely. ** Ahem!” he coughed, forcing back an excla- mation, that was almost on the end of his tongue. ‘It would be of nouse. She would not listen to your declaration of love. Not but what she esteems you, but, you see, her life is one of vengeance—perpetual bloodshed And, too, she is not safe to come here.” ‘Do you think she cares for me,” asked the young lawyer, quickly, passionately, ‘‘ more than as a friend?” ‘Beyond all doubt. In fact, I believe she loves you. But, young man, you know not the determined nature of the child. Her ven- geance is not yet complete, and until it is she will not talk of love. So think no more of that.” ‘Then, you won’t even tell me where I can meet her?’ > ‘‘No. Now that you have told me your purpose, I would not dare. She could not ac- cept you, and to refuse you would only cause her a great deal of needless pain and torture.” ‘* Will she come and act as my guide on the 8th of August?’ **Probably. Indeed, you may see her sooner, but if you do, young man, I beg of you don’t speak of love to her. She has yet a fearful re- cord of vengeance to accomplish, ere she can be aught but Hurricane Nell, the Girl Avenger. Now, sir, I must be moving. Good-evening to you.” ** Good-evening, sir.” Two days passed. Great preparations were being made to cele- brate the national holiday, and to have a ‘“high old time,” as the miners aptly termed it. Foremost among the festivities was to be the grand ‘‘shootin’ match,” the prize being a large gold nugget, valued at $1,000; the range, shoulder, and the distance one hundred yards. Jonas Dwight was conductor of the affair, and had entered five competitors on the list, namely: “Cap. Woodchuck,” ‘*Hardy Scooter,” ‘Grinning Moon,” “Cap’n Bob,” and ‘‘ Long Neck Pete.” ‘¢Governor ” Grover, in the meantime, was buried, and at Mrs. G.’s request, Aubrey Lee went down, and took up his quarters at the mansion, Deeming it the wisest to act on the square, for a while, he had settled the claims of the miners with good money, and the banking busi- ness went on under his management, The morning of the Fourth of July dawned, with a clear, sea-blue sky, soft, mellow sun- light, and gentle, balmy breezes; and brought to the little mining settlement as wild and desperate a crowd of borderers and ruffians as ever pulled a trigger. Far and wide had the news spread, like wildfire; consequently hunters, trappers, guides, and outlaws alike, flocked to the scene of the *‘ celebrate.” By noon, the hour set for the shooting-match to begin, Jonas’ list of participants had swelled into the hundreds; and the slope around the town was dotted black with clumps of new ar- rivals. At twenty dollars a share, the shrewd tavern-keeper cleared a handsome thing on the gold nugget, and, as a very natural conse- quence, was all smirks and smiles to every one. At twelve o’clock a lane was formed, by stretching of ropes from post to post; the tar- get was set up, a hundred yards away, and the contest commenced. According to the rules of the day each man engaged in the affair was to have one shot, and, if several rung the bell, they were to shoot “off,” at the close of the match. Comicboo eS (E(0)