Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 32 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

where the trail of her horse was obliterated by the imprints of many booted feet. After all, had the ranger’s dream come true? Had Bob Woolf and his gang indeed intercept- ed the fearless maiden, on the night after their flight from the saloon, and carried her off ? Everything went to show that such was the case. The dream; the discovery of the trail, when despair had entered the hunter’s heart; the pursuit, and the finding of the glade; and the unmistakable footprints of the border-ruffians —did it not all incline toward the theory por- trayed to Woodchuck in his strange nocturnal fancy? He unhesitatingly decided in the affirmative, and grew savage and excited, as he stood there beneath the somber sky, torch in hand. **Gone! Hurricane Nell, the beautiful Dead- shot, gone!” It seemed to fill the heart of the herculean ranger with a terrible fire, and he walked to and fro, as he dwelt upon the unde- niable conclusion. He muttered a fierce malediction upon the head of that ruffian-outlaw, who had been such a curse to the existence of him and his. Should he start even now for Cherry Valley, and undertake to liberate the brave girl, and: avenge her wrongs, as well as his own? No; he would wait till morning, and then with his valiant band, would sweep down upon the foe, a merciless avenger. No sooner had he made this resolution, than he extinguished his torch, sprung into the sad- dle, and gailoped away toward the settlement. Dwight’s was open day and night, and the ranger walked boldly into the ba‘-room, on his arrival, and was somewhat surprised to find both Cecil and Grinning Moon there, evi- dently awaiting his coming. “Ha!” exclaimed the former, extending his hand, cordially, ‘‘I am glad you have come, Grinning Moon here, has been telling me of your absence, and I was just now about pro- posing that we go in search of you.” Cap. laughed a little, but it was not his old, ‘free laugh, that escaped from his lips. ‘Holy Polekats!”. he said, stroking his masked face slowly, ‘‘thar’s no danger o’ ther W oodchuck’s gittin inter a hoel he ken’t bur- row outo’. His existence hain’t goin’ ter last fer ever, thet’s er fack; but, Perciffic Peller- kans! I jedge he’s gude for er few more skewerups, yit.” “Ugh!” said Grinning Moon, grimly. ‘© W oodchuck heap much brave.” * Reckon I ar’,” was the laconic reply. After the ranger’s arrival, Ceail did not re- main long, as the hour was late, and he was to return to the mansion to sleep. “Come up early in the morning!” said Cap., as they parted. ‘* I’ve made er diskivery as ’ll pe likely ter interest ye. Don’t fail me, mind.” Cecil promised to come as soon as he awoke, and then mounting Hurricane, he set off. Cap. Woodchuck went back into the saloon, which he had left on the departure of Cecil, and ordering Grinning Moon.off to bed, he dropped into a chair and fellinto a deep reverie. He had not advised the young lawyer of the undoubted captivity of Hurricane Nell, among the ruffians, for he well knew Cecil would not sleep a wink, if soinformed, and this was con- trary to his wishes, as he desired that the young ‘‘Buster” should be well prepared for the coming journey, and for a fierce and des- perate undertaking. As to himself—well, what mattered it whether he slept or not? If at all, it was but for a moment at atime, as it were; for he was ever restless and watchful—always on the alert both night and day. It was in his nature to be thus. CHAPTER XIV. “spHOIMEN BRICK”—ON THE WAY. * EARLY in the following morning, Cecil re paired to the tavern, and found Cap, there in waiting for him. Grinning Moon was also at hand, having been recently awakened by the ranger, Beadle,s Half-Dime Library. ‘What is it you wish to tell me?” asked Ce- cil, as soon as they had exchanged greetings. ‘‘ Have you heard, or seen aught of Hurricane Nell?” “Holy Polekats, yes!” returned Wood- chuck, “* or somethin’ ter that erfeck.” He then narrated the remarkable dream, and how he had made the discoveries of the trail and visionary glade; how he had found the imprints of many booted feet, and, last of all, how he had arrived at the conclusion that the Girl Deadshot was a prisoner among the ruf- fians if, indeed, they had not been tempted even to kill her, to avenge the deaths of their com- panions. Cecil was greatly excited at once, and ready ‘or anything that would accomplish the release of the wild maiden, whom he so deeply loved. ‘‘And you will go with your band?’ he que- ried, earnestly, ‘‘and attempt to free her?” ‘*Sartin,” replied Woodchuck; “sartin., Perciffic Pellerkans an’ North Amerykan Pole- kats! ye don’ take me fer sich er’n ornery chip- munk as’d le’ve thet daisy ermong them hel- lions, do ye? Not by a six-bladed jack-knife, I won’t!” ‘Good! I will accompany you, then. Hur- ricane Nell must be rescued, or Heaven alone knows what will be her fate. And, if she was captured as you say, on the night of Woolf’s flight, only think of the many hours she has been in the ruffian’s power.” ‘‘Perzactly. Howsumdever, we ken’t pre- went thet, now. All we ken do, ar’ to straddle our anymiles, guv ’em ther rein, and sweep down inter Cherry Valley, loike er North Amerykan swarm 0’ polekats, an’ obblicherate ’em cussed outlawrs as ef they war er passel o’ wuthless nincompoops, w’ich they ain’t nuthin’ more’r less, I jedge et’ll be er dumblarsted scrimmage, fer thar’s five o’ them ter one on us; but, nevyerabitless, my motter is ab strackted frum ther Golden Ruler, an’ ken’t fail ter work—‘ Nevyar git down in ther jaws, ‘cause ye ken’t klime over er’n obstickle, but take er chaw 0’ Pig-Tail, an’ wait yer time.’ Now, I’ve known thet ’er motter’s chuck fuller o’ wisdum nor er pack-mule load o’ dickshun- arys er almennix. Fer instance, thar war ther time, up at Fort Lar’mie, w’en I wrassled wi’ thet onmerciful big Soo, Dog-Snout—” ‘‘ Wagh!” interrupted Grinning Moon, grave- ly; ‘‘ Woodchuck’s tongue run fast and long, like garter-snake. No time to lose. Must be off on trail, Ugh!” ‘“‘ K’rect, Grinner, by the Holy chant o’ th North Amerykan Polekat! Glad ye spoke, or thar’s no tellin’ when I shed’ve stopped, Ye see, my tunge ar jes’ like ther pendylum o’ an eight-day clock, wi’ ther pendulix off frum et. Ther pendulix ar’ ther dufunny on ther eend o ther consarn, an’ w’en ye take this off, ther rest o’ ther masheen goes off like crook’d lightnin’, lubricated wi’ Goat Gruel. Thet’s jes’ ther perzact case wi’ my insterment o’ speech. But, remoov’ ther cap o’ ther enterprize, an’ ther hull combinashun mooves off as freely an’ slickerish as er’n eel in er bath-tub. Gosh! thar I ar’ ergin, wastin’ preshus time, like er big lubber. Thet won’t nevyer resky ther Herrykane, by no sort 0’ means. Now er ’bout this experdishun, Buster, Ar’ ye reddy, im- megetly?”’ ‘‘ Yes—or shall be, as soon as I obtain my rifle and revolvers, which I left at the man- sion,” replied Cecil. ‘*K’rect. Now, then, jes’ ye ride down ter ther ranche; then, by ther time ye’ve armed yerself, and got all in reddyness, I an’ Grinnin’ Moon'll kim boomin’ erlong arter ye, an’ we'll al} sot out fer Cherry Valley.” Cecil bowed, and, turning on his heel, quitted the tavern. As soon as he was gone, Woodchuck turned to the Pawnee chief. “Now, cheef, jes’ ye go’n’ grin at yer red- skins, an’ git ’em in fightin’ trim. Hev ’em all hossed, by ther time I kim down, so’s no time- ‘ll be foolished erway. [I'll ’bibe er few tum- bler’s ©’ corn-juice, an’ by so doin’ stiddy my narves, wharupon we'll start.” Grinning Moon hurried away to attend to his duties, while the masked ranger walked up 0 the bar, and called up the “bottle.” He was not.a temperance man, this Cap. Woodchuck, by any means, for although he never got the worse. for its use, he took his liquor regularly, and seemed to derive a cer- tain benefit therefrom; His was one of those rugged, iron constitutions possessed, by a class of the stalwart bordermen, and whisky stimu- lated but. did not intoxicate. After gulping, down several glasses of the best “ tonic” Dwight’s afforded, he tightened his belt, put. fresh cartridges in his revolvers, and prepared to follow Grinning Moon. ‘‘ Hello!” saluted a rough-dressed and be- whiskered miner, who had been partaking of lunch in an empty beer-stall close by, and had overheard the conversation between Cecil and the ranger. ‘Hold up a bit, boss,” ‘““W’at d’ye want?” demanded Cap., survey ing the speaker, critically, for he was an odd- looking specimen of the ‘lower gulcher,” whom he had not met before. ‘‘Who d’ye meen by ‘ Hallo?” “You,” replied the miner, advancing and extending his hand in afriendly fashion, ‘‘ Yer Cap. Woodchuck, ain’t yer, an’ yer bound fer Cherry Run arter Woolf an’ his gang, ain’t er?” art Wal, y-a-s; but w’at’f I am?” ‘¢ Wouldn’t keer ef ye hed er coon erlong wi’ ye, as knowed ev’ry crook nor corner o’ ther Rendezvous, would ye?” “Wal, thet depends, sumw’at. D’ye refer ter yerself, as bein’ thet coon?” ‘*T do, as sure’s Eve chased Ain an’ Cable outside ther picket-fence o’ Eeden. I’m ther eyedentical essence o’ human possytiveness, as ken show ye ther whar ’n’ wharfore o’ Bob Woolf, an’ his two-legged cattymounts, in less time then enny other descendent o’ George Washerington er Christerfer Columbjy !” “Holy Polekats! ye don’ say?” ejaculated Woodchuck, eying the stranger with consider- able interest, as well as amusement. ‘ An’ w’at mought I call ye—who be ye?’ “Who ar’ I? Who ar I? Now, soak my feet in puddin’ ’n’ milk, but thet ar’ er quesh- tion, chock full o’ singeelarativeness. “Who ar’ I? Wal, Ill gratify yer hyper- bolical inquisitiveness. Fustly, I’m ther ‘ speci- men brick’ o’ Honduras Gulch, polished off wi’ alkali, quartz an’ granit’, Seckontly, I’m ther ragin’, tempestuous, equatorial conglommera- shun o’ combustivenes; an’ last, but not yeast, I’m Uriaher Pottsdamer Billings, ther terror- perdoocing, awe-inspirin’, rantankeross, an’ dangeross fist-slinger from Slinktown; er high gradewyate o’ ther science o’ pullin’ triggers an’ slittin’ weazands; and ter cap ther climbax wi’, I’m er Honery Ex-member 0’ ther Woolf regyment, fust cavalree, seckont dervision—” ‘‘ Whoa!” interrupted Woodchuck, aghast, “thet’ll ans’er; thet’s ernuff! I’ve got ther biggest kind o’ er’n jjee who ye be, already; so pleese put ther clapper onter yer throttle- valve. Ye meen ter insinywate thet yer er dissolved ershiparian o’ ther rufyans, an’ would offer yer services ag’in their behalf. Ain’t thet it?” ‘“ Bt ar, perzip! soak my feet in brine ter six y’ars, ef ’tain’t. Bob Woolf he gi’ me ther boost an’ ther bounce, ’ca’se I downed his best bottle o’ "Nongaheela, one night, cuss his pic- tur’; so [’'m spurred an’ heeled, an’ spilin’ ter sail down ergin him, an’ pay him off—blood an’ butcher-knives, yas!” “Well, then, hyar’s yer chance,” said Cap, starting for the door. ‘‘Kim rite erlong ef yer got ennythunk ergin Bob Woolf; fer J’m | erbout ter sot arter him, like a rippin’ ana roarin’ tornader o’ North Amerykan Polekats, slidin down er slab greesed wi’ Goat Gruel!” The ‘‘ specimen brick” from Honduras Gulch, procured a long, handsomely-mounted rifle from inside the beer-stall, and followed the stalwart ranger from the tavern, with evident satisfaction, Beside his rifle, he was otherwise well-armed with revolvers and knife, and though rather stalwart and thin of stature, he looked as if he n\ight prove a formidable foe in a scrimmage, Eomichboo gs) (ECO)