Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 32 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

— kan Polekat, git back! Whoop! hoo! fur Je- rushy! Thet’s it, boyee! Fist em in their congenyel pherseeks, like Salmon did Garmar- rels! Lay onter ’em as Joner did ter ther Big Trout! Pellerkans o’ ther Perciffic! kum on ye dirty skunks, an’ let me mangle ye!” The personage who gave utterance to tris singular tirade was a tall, raw-boned man, clac ix. buckskin from top to toe, with the excep- tion of a mask, which completely hid his face, and which was made from the untanned hide of the woodchuck. He had suddenly made his appearance at Burnett’s side with the above remarks, but from whence he came no one knew. Deadly were the shots that his pistols fired among the now infuriated outlaws. Under the bright noonday’s sun, a fearful, tragic scene was enacted, that day, at Dwight’s. Doubly incensed, as they saw their comrad fall, the ruffian gang, many of whom had not hitherto been considered under Cap’n Bob’s rule, now showed their true colors, and plunged into the thickest of the battle. A score of mi- ners sprung to the side of the Philadelphian and his strange friend, and fought with a will. The crack of pistol-shots rung out on every side; wild yells, dying groans, the flash and clash of knives, and awful curses all helped to make up one of the most terrible and exciting affrays that ever went to make Dwight’s a no- torious name, Bullets whizzed, men fell, blood spurted from gaping wounds, and yet the in turiated contestants fought on. Soon, however, it became apparent that the outlaws greatly outnumbered their enemy— a fact which did not escape the practiced eye of him of the woodchuck mask. “North Amerykan Pole-kats, an’ Perciffic Pellerkans!” he roared, clubbing his pistols, and knocking back the ruffians; ‘ thes’ll never do. Ill settle these ’ere leetle hash, ’bout as lively as ever ern eel squarmed outen er grid- dle-pan |!” Taking advantage of a second’s full, he car- ried to his lips a tin horn, resembling a bugle, which was secured to his belt by a cord, and blew a loud, shrill blast, the sound of which echoed over hill and dale. “Thet’ll fetch ’em, sure’s my name ar’ Cap, Woodchuck!” he muttered, dropping the in- strument to his side, and dealing an outlaw a heavy kick in the jaws. ‘‘All’s fa’r in luv, corn-juice, an’ war; tharfore fight w’ile ye kin fight, an’ drink corn-juice when ye kent do nuthin’ else. Them’s my logickal sentyments 0’ et!” The eccentric fellow was bleeding from a half-score of wounds, but he scarcely seemed to notice the fact, and sailed into the wildest of the battle without the least hesitation. Cecil, however, was getting faint and pale, from a terrible loss of blood. His wounds were numerous, but fortunately, only flesh gashes, and confined chiefly to his body. Now the outlaws came on with renewed fe- rocity, desperately determimed to clean out their antagonists and end the struggle. Suddenly, there were several shrill war- whoops, the pattering of many feet, and two score of armed Pawnee Indians came rushing upon the scene. The ruffians quickly saw their approach, and giving the alarm, at once skedaddled, at the top of their speed, leaving their wounded and dead where they had fallen. ‘“Whoop!” yelled Cap. Woodchuck, waving his skin turban, victoriously in the air. ‘‘ Per- ciftic Pellerkans, and North Amerykan Pole- kats! Hyar kums my fellers. Know’d they weren’t out ©’ heerin’. o’ Gabriel’s trumpet. Hello, Grinning Moon, kim along hyar, an I'l b’y ye ther whiskey. Powerful glad ye cum, jes’ in ther nick o’ time. We’d’ve, bin korpses 'f ye heden’t.” The dead bodies were overhauled—sixteen in all—but Cap’n Bob’s and Aubrey Lee’s were not among them, Fortunately, only four on Cecil’s side had perished. A hard fought victory, it seemed, to him, _—_—l Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian. 9 CHAPTER X. THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT. WE must now return upon the due course of our narrative to witness a scene which oc- curred at the mansion of Felix Grover, be- tween the old gentleman and Aubrey Lee, on the morning of the day previous to the affray at Dwight’s. The morning was a lovely one, with clear, blue sky, a smiling, hazy-red sun, and balmy breezes. Mr. Grover, supported on the arm of his beautiful daughter, had succeeded in driv- ing away the troublesome gout enough to walk about beneath the cover of the perfume-laden grove. Lotta Grover, attired in a cool, white wrap- per, looped gracefully up with rosettes of pink and blue, looked very fair and beautiful. As they walked under the shady archways, and silently drank of the sweet morning air, and listened to the songs of the birds, among the leafy branches, both seemed supremely happy. ‘* Lotta, my dear,” said the happy speculator, at last, breaking the delicious spell, ‘“‘I have come out here, with you, this early in the morn, simply to get away from your mother’s hearing, and, too, I wish to ask you a ques- tion,” “Well, papa?” asked the girl. “Has Aubrey Lee, my clerk, asked you to become his wife?” A soft blush mantled the young lady’s fea- tures. “Yes, dear papa,” she answered, dropping her lustrous eyes to the ground. ‘And what did you say? Was it yes, my girl?” ‘Yes, papa. Aubrey loves me, and I love him; so, you see, he, and only he, can ever make me happy. Was I right?” ‘Hum! yes—I suppose so,” replied Mr. Grover, thoughtfully. ‘‘ But, mind, now, don’t you dare to marry him until you first tell me, D’ye hear?’ sc Yes, papa.” “Then heed!” snapped he, surlily. ‘‘ Now, you stay here, and enjoy yourself. [’m going back to the house,” And disengaging himself, he limped away, not deigning her assistance, as lame as he was. Scarcely had he disappeared in the direction of the mansion, when a cloaked and vailed fe- male emerged from a clump of bushes near by, and confronted the young woman. | Lotta started back, with a low scream. ‘Oh! you needn’t shriek,” exclaimed the stranger, with a wild laugh. ‘“‘I’m no bug- bear. TU not hurt you.” ‘*What would you have, here?’ demanded the heiress, haughtily, stepping aside. “IT would warm you!” hissed she, in a pas- sionate voice. ‘‘I would warm you, Lotta Grover! Beware how you teach your heart to cherish a serpent!” ‘‘What do you mean? Whom do you calla serpent?” ‘‘ Aubrey Lee—as you know him! He would wreck your life, fair maiden, as he has mine, Nay, do not start, or tremble, for I Speak the truth. Iam Aubrey Lee’s wife!” ‘* His wife, woman? Impossible!” ‘No! ’Tis true—too true, God knows! He wedded me in St. Joseph, only a short year ago. After a month of married bliss he de- serted me, and fled to parts unknown. I was left poor and friendless upon the world. I swore and registered an awful oath before my God, however, to hunt him down, were he even at the remotest corner of the earth. So I set out. ‘Fortune favored me. I came to the min- ing settlement, up there, by accident, and found him, under the assumed name of Lee. I did not apprise him of my presence, but set to work and found that he was the confidential clerk of your father, Honorable Felix Grover, and that he was likely to become your husband. ‘‘ By merest chance, just now, I overheard your conversation with your father, and your acknowledgment that you were engaged to my villainous husband. Oh! fair lady, heed — — my warning, and cast this man away—from your heart!” ‘‘ Ahem! yes; cast an honorable man aside at an adventuress’ dictation!” sneered Miss Grover, coldly. ‘‘ What sublime impudence, to be sure!” ‘‘T am no adventuress, and I loathe and de- spise him, although he is my husband; but, Heaven be my witness, he shall not be so long. The Creole blood in my veins is full of fire, and Aubrey Lee shall feel my avenging hand. Again, Lotta Grover, I warn you to cast the sting of the serpent from thy bosom!’ ‘‘T shall consult my own wishes as to that, madam. Your story is highly improbable; I do not believe one word of it. Maybe you can show me a marriage certificate?’ ‘‘ Alas! no—not now. I have one, but ity in my sachel at the tavern, yonder.” ‘“‘Then, step aside, please, and allow me to I will hear no more.” ‘Nay! hold, dear young woman,” and the vailed woman clutched Miss Grover by the arm; ‘“‘hear me out. You must believe me and must not wed Aubrey Lee. I will appeal to your old father, and if he will not aid me in bringing this man to justice, ere the villain shall do dishonor to one so fair and lovely as you, [ll kill him. Now go, but heed my words!” And turning, the strange woman disappeared in the depths of the grove, while Miss Lotta hastened indignant and frightened toward her father’s mansion. About ten minutes previous to the foregoing conversation, Aubrey Lee rode up to the man- sion, and on inquiring for the ‘‘ Governor,” was told that he and Lotta had gone for a walk in the grove. So dismounting, he waited in the elegant library for the old gentleman’s return. In the course of fifteen moments more foot- steps were heard, and the “Governor ” stag- gered in, and sunk heavily upon the cushions of his arm-chair. His walk had proven almost too much for him. “Well?” he demanded, sharply, as his eyes rested upon the clerk. “Well,” replied Lee, dropping his eyes upon the soft crimson carpets. “What d’ye want from the ‘Gov®rnor? ” “T came to foreclose this mortgage, and take possession of the property, here, if "cannot repay me the sum of thirty thousand dollars, which I gave to the miners, a week ago, to satisfy their demands. You will remember that by agreement I can foreclose the mort- gage at any time, within a month after draw- ing, providing you cannot honor all my claims?” “Exactly, sir,” replied Mr. Grover; “‘T re- member all. I am, though, contrary to your expectations, ready and willing to return you the money you so kindly lent me, Aubrey Lee. You gave the miners, through an old boss named Kenser, six hundred fifty-dollar notes, or in other words, thirty thousand dollars, eh? Is this not so?” ‘Tt is correct, sir.” , “Well, Aubrey Lee, John Kenser has brought them back to me. Every one of them are counterfeits!” The clerk leaped from his seat with a terrible oath, ‘* What?” he cried, white with rage, at the discovery of his attempt to pass such money counterfeits?” “Yes, sir,” replied “Governor” Grover, coolly. ‘‘Every one of them, Clever ones, too, and all executed on one bank, Here they are;” and he took up a large package, wrapped in brown paper, which was lying on a stand near by. ‘‘Give me back the mortgage, and ou can have your own money.” A terrible look flared across the clerk’s face —a horrible leer, , ‘I won't,” he hissed, savagely. ‘ Curse you; you’ve found me out, eh?” ; With another anathema, he made a violent - spring upon the old man, grasped him by the throat, and bore him noiselessly to the floor, OG) KS 4(EC) ecoim (C