Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 32 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian. “Short; a regular little dwarf.” . “ Describe him otherwise.” vs ‘‘ Well, he’s got red hair, black eyes, a scar across his cheek, an’ is lame in the right foot.” ‘“?Hem!, Yes; that’s my man,” muttered Cecil Burnett, noting down a few lines with a pencil, ina note-book. ‘‘ Now, where does he live?’ or “In Cherry Run.” ‘¢ Where is Cherry Run?’ ‘Well, it’s down across the plain about sixty miles from here.” ‘‘ Sixty miles, eh? Have to procure a guide, wouldn’t 1?” ‘‘Reckon so. Lots of Sioux on the plains, and then Bob Woolf holds out there, too, occa- sionally.” ** Who is he?’ “He? Why, he’s the great outlaw.” “He is, eh? Well, now, where will I find a guide?” ‘Dunno where yow’ll find one. J can find one for you if you will pay me another dollar.” “Agreed. Who is it?’ ‘‘A gal. Hurricane Nell.” ‘‘ Hurricane Nell?) Humph! for a female.” “Yas; an’ aqueerer female for the name, li find.” ‘‘Of the fallen angel type, I suppose, eh?’ said Burnett, relighting his cigar carelessly. ‘““No! thar ye’re mistaken. A purer, pret- tier, braver girl never breathed, sir, I’ve known Hurricane. Nell since her escape from the great prairie fire years ago, an’ could swear that her Aonor is as bright as ever was the honor of .a_saint. She’s an odd one, though. Her whole life is devoted to the one terrible ob- ject, revenge. She roams through the wilder- ness in various disguises, and every few weeks some one finds a dead outlaw, wi’ her death mark upon him.” “She must be a singular character, from your deseription,” mused Burnett, half aloud; ‘‘and a rough one.” ‘“So she is. She goes and comes at will. No one dares to cross her path. She is a mod- est and pleasant companion, to those she fan- cies; but to her enemies she is an actual ter- ror. Why, sir, I once see her shoot a feller, in yonder, just for forcibly kissin’ an Indian gal, ’givst her will. Since her dad died she’s inured herself to every sort of hardship and peril, and I’d wager tnis whole establishment to-night, if necessary, that she could outrun, out-ride, out-shoot, out-lasso, out-yell, out—” “ Hold cn, for mercy’s sake!’ cried Burnett, putting up his hands, with a laugh, “‘ hold on— don’t!” “What? Why?” asked Jonas. “That will do. Don’t tell me any more, until I have seen this wonderful creature. | I have learned, sir, all 1 want to know in just a quarter of an hour. Your pay, at the rate of fifty cents per hour, would be just twelve and a half centsexactly. There are thi 4 And with a quiet smile the lawyer deposited thirteen coppers upon the table. ‘‘ Well, b-y Jericho!” gasped Jonas, thunder- struck; ‘‘I’ve heard said that no one could compete wi’ a Philadelphia lawyer, and I be- lieve it now!” A queer name CHAPTER ITI. 4 SON OF AN EARL—HURRICANE NELL. BuRNETT laughed, | © Well,” he said, “I won’t be hard on you, for you have given me some important infor- mation. Here is a ten dollar bill for you. Will that do?’ And he laid a crisp new bank note, which he abstracted from a plethoric wallet, into Jonas’ bands. “Ob! thank you, sir, thank you, sir. You are too generous,” apologized the tavern-keeper, graciously. “Tam eversomuch obliged. My dear sir, allow me to retract my words, for I now firmly believe that almost any one can get ahead of a Philadelphia la tt | The evenings being long and the noise about — the tavern eonsiderable, Burnett resolved not | to retire until quiet prevailed. So he sat in the bar-room and puffed away, meditatively, at a fragrant cigar and listened to the hilari- ous shouts and songs in the adjoining apart- ment, About nine o’clock a queer, stoop-shouldered old man opened the outside door and staggered into the bar-room. As he scanned him from head, to foot, Burne.t. thought he had never seen such an. odd specimen of humanity before. His form was bent and apparently feeble, and clad in rags of the most greasy kind. His face was covered to the very eyes with a thick, bushy, iron-gray beard; his eyes shaded by a pair of green goggles, and a large slouch som- brero was. drawn over his forehead until it touched his nose, which was red as the blood beet in color.. He leaned heavily upon a stout staff or cudgel for support and staggered about as if drunk, “Ha! Uncle Sam, is that you?’ saluted Jonas Dwight, from behind the bar, ‘‘ W’ere ye bin the last week?” “I have been unto the mighty land off the Serraka, Sir Jonas,” replied the man, in a wheezy voice, ‘‘to beg sustenance from the rich Sioux chief by that name,” “‘ Didn’t find the Indians of a very charita- ble turn, did ye?’ “Nol no! They are unwilling to aid a poor but honest fellow-creature. Sir!” and here the stranger turned with outstretched hands toward Burnett, ‘‘wouldst open thy heart to the deserving poor and contribute to the wor- thy charitable institutions of the Aged and In- firm Home? I pray thee, sir, to open up your heart!” ‘‘ Who are you, old man?” “My goodsir, Iam now a poor beggar upon the world. Once I held mine head as high as any of my fellow-creatures. Once I was as rich as our good friend Jonas, here. But the withering hand of ill-luck and poverty cast its terrible blight upon me and stole away my fortune. Do not think me the ordinary beg- gar, sir, for Iam not. Noble and royal biood runs in my veins. I am the only surviving son of the great Earl of Aberdeen—yes, sir; the son of an earl in straitened circumstances. I seek relief only from those who are spending that which should go to their suffering wives and children in foul drink and at the gambling table!” “A very praiseworthy cause, too, you plead, I should say. Here is a dollar, uncle, Take it and give it to your poor.” “Nay, young man, Thou hast a free heart, I see, and a goodly sum of filthy lucre— money; but I'll take not a cent, sir. Put it in your pocket and keep it there. _There’s rob- bers and cut-throats all around you; so be- ware!” date Burnett started violently and returned his pocket-bogk to its place at once, while Uncle Sam limped on into the gambling room with- out another word. The young Philadelphian arose to follow, when his host said: “Tf you wish to procure Hurricane Nell for your guide, sir, you can do so by bargaining with the old tramp; he’s her agent !” ‘*Humph! does she not come out so that one can see her?” ‘‘No; or, that is, she never comes to the diggings often to my knowledge. Bob Woolf has his spies posted out about here on the watch for her, so she seldom dares to show her face here. Once, however, she did come here, and boldly dared the whole crowd to lay a hand upon her; bluffed every one of ’em, sir! Thet was when she shot the feller for smackin’ ‘the red-skin gal,” ‘‘T should really like to see her,” muttered Burnett, as he sauntered away into the next room. Betting on different games was at the height of its excitement, and no one paid the least attention to the pleadings of The Earl, as he went from table to table. : Burnett kept close behind him and watched the results of begging in this rough, half-civi- lized audience, ’ 3 At last Uncle Sam stopped at the end of a table at which two bloated, brutal-looking ruffians were seated, engaged in a game of’ eucher. ; “ A quarter, kind sirs, to assist the son of an’ earl in straitened -circumstances?’ asked the old man, leaning upon his cane, and peering’ down into the fellows’ faces. , “‘Git out, curse ye!” cried the larger of the: two, rising and administering the beggar «#” heartless kick; ‘‘ I'll assist you, you old cuss!” With a groan the old man staggered and - would have fallen had not Cecil Burnett quickly caught him and supported him to e, “Sir!” he cried, turning indignantly upon ° the ruffian, ‘‘ you should know better than to) kick an old man like this.” _ ‘“Who’n the devil’r you?” growled the fel- - low, rising quickly and confronting the young» man, with doubled fists. ‘“‘ W’at ails ye, any- how? . Give me any oO’ yer sass, an’ I’ll smasb ye in the snoot, curse me ef I don’t, sure’s Pm, Bob Woolf!” - “Not much you won’t, Mr. Outlaw!” ex- claimed the young lawyer, coolly and firmly. “Tm not afraid of you nor your gang.” A fiendish glare flashed from the eyes of the , ruffian, and, with a lightning-like movement, } he drew a long knife from his belt. ** Ain’t afraid on me, hey? Why, you young» cuss, I'll rip life out o’ ye in two jiffies for « chaw o’ terbacker! Climb outen this, now, ef ye don’t want me to kill ye!” “No! Vll not move a step; so touch me if you dare !” Cecil cried. With an infuriated cry the big border- ruffian flung himself forward upon his adver- sary, and the cry, ‘“‘a fight! a fightd” rung through the room. By a dexterous movement Burnett avoided the intended blow, and then, with a quick, cat- like spring, planted a solid blow between his opponent’s eyes. Woolf tumbled to the floor, and lay in a si- lent heap, the blood spurting from his nostrils and mouth in a sickening stream. “Gentlemen!” cried Cecil Burnett, turning and facing the gang of low-browed, swarthy ruffians, who were crowding around, “are: there any more of you anxious to step into. yon bleeding wretch’s shoes? If so, come for- ward, one at a time,” An angry, muttering growl was the only answer; so, taking it as a negative, the young * stranger readjusted his cravat and turned to. the seat where he had left the bruised earl. To his surprise he at once perceived that he was gone. Donning his hat, which had fallen to whe floor during the affray, he joined Jonas Dwight, who was returning to the bar-room, from which he hud been summoned at the cries of a fight. | “The beggar—where did he go?’ was Cecil’s question. | “Slid out, I reckon, during your tussle with Woolf.” “He did? Pang the luck; I had not yet spoken to him of my wish to procure a guide.” “Oh! as to that, why, probably he'll be back here by to-morrow night.” “Is there no other guide whom I can pro- cure, or no other way by which I can get word to this Hurricane Nell?” “Not as I know on. Uncle Sam ‘Il be back to-morrow evening, I judge. He comes pret- ty regular. In the meantime, boss, I'd advise ye, as a guest and my friend, to lie low—keep shady!” | “ Why?” “Oh, because. As long’s ye stay in Dwight’s arter this rew to-night yer life won’t be wuth half as muca as the money ye’ve got. Look out for Boz Woolf.” “Bah! I’m not afraid of that wolf. He “Yas; maybe he is; but I notice that: Cap’in’ Bob’s got a heap o’ friends to back him.” . At this juncture they entered the bar-roony and as they did sé another figure entered it: also, from the outsidé door. is more biow than bite.” IOOKS Geom + (E (Ele)