Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 330 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

eee — - LLL eee —_—_— — -= ————$— ‘* 1 do, for a certai. ty.” _. **Tbat is what Mr. Tabor believes, too.” **Indeed? Who is this Mr. Tabor?’ . “*A gentleman who heard of my distress and ‘xindly assisted me.” ~ “*Ts hea resident of Daggersville?” “Ob! nosir. Hoeis a gi. of leisure, who comes and goes at will, spending much of his time at hunting and prospecting. I[ like him very much, for be took pity on me when the world turned a cold shoulder.” ‘I trust he did so, young lady, with good and honorable intentions. An unprotected ‘oung lady, nowadays, cannot be too careful ‘rom whom she accepts attentions, for many a wolf is lurking under sheep’s clothing.” ‘“‘Tam very much obliged for your kind ad- vice, but, don’t fear but what Grit Gleason can take care of herself.” ‘*Havn’t a doubt of it. as I bave a ride to take.” ** You are nct going to the Cottonwoods?” ** How did you guess it?” ‘*‘ Because Lenore has gone there. Be care- ful, sir! General Gleason is not to be trusted too far, and there are plenty of tools in this camp whom he could bire to work you evil.” “You are right, I shall be on my guard, however, and will defy the general and the whole kit of his hired assassins. I shall see Lenore, to night, just the same as though noih- ing had occurred.” ‘Well, call again, stock of gocd cigars. ‘*‘] will do so,” and Quick-Shot took his leave. I must ba going now, when you want another General Gleason’s face wore an anxious cx- pression, as he read the letter of Cap. Melton. This Melton was one of the most cunning and dangerous desperadoes, in Southe:n Colorado, and bad rallied around hitn a band of cut- throats, second only to himself, known as the Rowdy Rangers, and also as the Catile Clique. No crime was said to be too horrible for them to commit, and their frequent raids into New Mexico seemed to pore this, for they ever left dbebind them a trail of murder, arson and pil- lage, Phe band was extensive and well organized, and Melton made them a successful leader, be- ing feared, ’t-~as said, as much by his own fol- lowers, as by those whom he waged war agaiust. Report had it tbat he had once graduated ‘rom West Point; at any rate, scouts and ‘others who were in a position to know, claimed tbat his band were drilled as well as soldiers, and could fight like tigers, Again, it was rumored that privata citizens in different parts of various adjoining States, were in collusion with Melton, and had a lively interest in the successes of the Cattle Clique. A very Apollo among men, in ee of manly beauty, this Melton was said to be, and a man of many disguises, many intrigues, and great wealth, It was well known that he and General Glea- son were bitter enemies; but the cause of this was assigned to the fact that it was through the Cattle-king’s extensive and powerful political influence, that Jarge rewards had been offered for the captures or breaking up of the gang. Ie any private reasons for,the enmity existed, it was not known to the Daggervillians. The major watehed the general's face, as he read the letter, something like a triumphant expression upon his own countenance, “Weil, what d’ye think of it?” he asked finally. ‘‘ Looks as if every person for miles arouad, wasn’t on your side, does is not?” “Curse the fellow! He is bold, Pll admit, but he bas run pretty nearly to the end of his race. It won’s be long, before he will be in limbo,” : “Possibly. But he may give you a dig be- ‘ore he passes in his checks. You bring him to oay, and he’ll spare nothing in his efforts to de- feat vou.” ‘Well, let bim do his worst; lll be prepared for bim!” ; | The general then nrose. and left the Cinna- mon Bear, his face sect and s.ern and a wicked glitter in his eves. Not far from the Cinnamon Bear, was a saloon, frequented by tbe ‘*bad” men of Dag- gersville. Jt was run by a brawny ruffian, oamed Buck Brady, a leading spirit among bis patrons, and feared as a desperate character, who would rather shoot than eat. Brady and. half adozen of his customers, were drinking at the bar, asthe general entered, and gave him a surprised stare, for the Slo Bucket, as Brady’s place was christened, rarely had so distinguished a visitor as the general. LL AD I A te --—— — mm OO OT Little Quick-Shot. eee te ee ee we ee ae em eee ee — - we - oe ~~ —- +e oe -- — —— 2 - eo ‘*Howdy do, Gleason!’ Brady cried, famil- iarly, ‘Join us in a ‘ coffin-nail? ” ‘*I don’t mind if I do!” the general replied, with assumed cheerfulness. ‘‘Then, I want a word with you, in private,” A round of drinks were disposed of, and then Brady and the cattle- king entered a back room, where the ruffian usually slept. ‘‘Now, sail in, giveral!” he ordered. ‘I know thar’s sumthin’ o’ importance on the tap, or ye wouldn’t condescend to honor my den wi’ a visit.” “There is something important, Brady— something of the utmost importance to me, wanta job done, and didn’t know of a safer intelligence agency than yours.” ‘Right ye be. Buck Brady air the ha’rpin to apply to, when ye want a job done, an’ don’t ye fergit that! What sorter job d’ye want done, gineral—a man put out of the way?” ** You have bit it,”’ ‘*Thet air Scarlet Scout?” ‘The very man,” *Thort so, Ireckoned you’d want revenge, ye know, arter he bumiliated ye at yer own game. Bin layin’ fer yer gal, eh?” ‘‘He has dared to intrude into her society. He isa man I don’t care to have about, and so the best way to do is to get md of him before be does any greater mischief.” ““ Exact of When d’ye want it did?” “‘To-night. I believe the fellow will lurk about the Cottonwoods, to-night, on purpose to get an interview with my daughter. Your authority as deputy-sheriff will empower you to shoot him down at sight, if youcatch him prow- lipg aboyt the premises. However, do not shoot him, if you can arrest bim on any charge that would bear a trial, for I'd much rather ruin him than have his life to answer for.” “Allright. Just as you say; it shall be, and don’t you forget it. The job will cost you a hundred-dollar-William.” ‘‘Cheap enough. Here’s your money, understand, make no botch of it.” ‘*Nary time, general, nary time, We'll fix the Scarlet Scout, to-night, sure,” Now, CHAPTER IV, WHO KILLED RALPH RONALD? NExtT to Villa Voselle, the Cottonwoods was the most valuable estate anywhere within many miles of Daggersville. It was owned by the wide-awake business man, Mr, Ronald, better. known as Old Man Ronald—a crisp, curt and yet not unkindly Englishman, who had made and lost several fortunes, yet could boast of a thousand acres of prairie, stocked with as many cattle, and a controlling interest in the two principal quartz mines at Daggersville, The Cottonwoods was a large, rambling struc- ture of mixed stone and adobe, early Spanish in = and antique in finish, and fitted up with splendor that surpassed even the furnishings of illa Voselle. It was set down in a beautiful motte of cot- tonwoods, and the whole surrounded by 4 high adobe wall, that gave the place the appearance of a fortress. It had once been the property of a rich Mexi- can, who had failed, and had been forced to sell it to Old Man Ronald. The grounds were laid out quite as pictur- esquely as those at Villa Voselle, and it had for years been a mat‘er of rivalry, between the eneral and the Old Man, as to which should ave the most aftractive home, : Of the Ronalds there were four—father, mother, son and daughter. Ralph Ronald, the son, had been kept at school, from almost infaney, and had recently graduated at Harvard, with the highest bonors, It was in honor of his re‘urn that a reception had been planned at the Cottonwoods, to wel- come him, after an absence of three yeurs. Ruth Ronald, aged seventeen—where Ralph was twenty-four—had graduated, a year be- fore our story. She was a plain little body of quiet ways, and vet sparkling, intelligent and pretty. She and Lenore Gleason were the firmest of frien'is; and until Colonel McIntosh had been imported from the South, it had been a matter of quiet supposition between the two families, that Lenore and Ralph would eventually marry, and link the two estates together. It was a dark tempestuous night, that was to- witness Ralph Ronald’s return home; neverthe- less, the Cottonwoods was literally a blaze of light. Not only the bandsome dwelling, but even the shaded grounds were lit up, and within the mansion the inspiring strains of music lent 5 ——-_ ee joy to the occasion. The grand parlors were lled with richly attired guests, and with those of rougher exterio, but of kindly patures. Old Man Ronald always made it a boast, that the poor were just as welcome to bis bome as were the rich; consequently, he counted his friends by scores upon scores, And eltiiough the Cottonwoods was filled with guests, and the tables loaded with the ele- ments of a princely feast, there was something lacking. Ralph Ronald had not come! He should have arrived at sunset, as he had written that be would leave the nearest railway station, that morning, on borseback, and sure- ] sean the Cottonwoods by dusk, at the fur- thest. But, dusk had come; darkness had followed; yet po Ralph Ronald. It was already nine o'clock, Old Man Ronald, a fat, flurid little gentleman, paced to and with knitted brows, speaking to no one, excep to occasionally send some one to learn if Ralph had arrived; and anxiety was expressed upon the faces of all present. Lenore and Ruth kept closely in each other’s company, and the general and the j)l looking colonel chatted soberly together, upon a sofa, in a retired corner. What could detain Ralph? This was the question on every side! Had he been waylaid. on the prairie, and murdered or captured? Or, had some unfore- seen accident prevented bis arriving at the rail- way station, at the time named? : The question was answered, an hour later when Mr. Ronald was contemplating dismiss- ing his guests: Heavy footsteps were heard in the hall, and a moment later Little Quick-Shot entered the parlor, bearing in his strong arms the limp, bleeding form of a well-dressed young man of about his own age, and laid him upon the floor. : A horrified cry went up from every side, and Old Man Ronald sprung forward, with a moan of eae ‘My God! it is my eons he cried, ‘‘ He is dead. Ob! my boy! my boy!” ‘Stand: back, please!” Quick-Shot ordered, addressing the guests who crowded about, “Give the young gentleman air, I think be is alive yet,” | He knelt and made an examination of the wound, which had been inflicted upon the fore- head, by some sharp-edged instrument. ‘The skull is not fractured!” he said, a mo~ ment later, ‘‘and 1 reckon he is only stunned, for bis heart still beats. Fetch me some water, and a glass of liquor,” ‘“My God! my poor son is dead, I'fear,” Mr, en groaned. ‘* Where did you find him, sir ‘*T was riding this way, sir, over the prairie, when my horse shied so suddenly, as to nearly pitch me from the saddle,” Quick-Shot ex- lained. ‘‘ Knowing something must be wrong, dismounted, made a search, and asa result, found this young man ye on the grass. Yours being the nearest habitation, | brought him here, without suspecting that he was your son, ; ‘You have placed us under life-lon obliga- tions t» you. fir,” the mine-owner eald: Mee! you can only bring bim back to life, so that he can explain who. did this act, I'll have the whole country aroused but what I'll find the wretch!” — : ‘‘T reckon thet ain’t necessary, boss!” a hoarse, triumphant voice cried, and Buck Brady strode into the room, followed by half a dozen of bis pals, all of whom grasped cocked revolvers, ready for use. ‘ Boys, cover your man!” In a twinkling each weapon was leveled at Little Quick-Shot,,who had turned pale with rage, on perceiving the turn that had been called upon bim, A murmur of surpriso and doubt escaped the lips of the guests, “ What! Do you charge this young man with being the one who eommitted the assault upon my son?’ Old Man Ronald demanded, sternly. . ‘* You bet yer boots I do!” Brady declared, ‘Ef ye wanter know, I kin tell-ye jest how we know,” ** Proceed, sir.” ‘* Waal, ye see, we were directed ter keep a watch on this Scarlet Scout, as he were a sus- pcre keracter. So we follered him, and s-e’d im meet yer son, an’ slug bim wi’ suthin’ or other, Arter yer son fell, we heerd him say, ‘Thar, you won't stand twixt me an’ Lenore Gleason, Ralph Ronald. Tl) tote ye bum, an’ get a fvoting wi’ yer prrents fer doin’ so,” (ECO) AMLNE cS | OOO) (E(0)