Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 339 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

— ~ . — ———— SE ee caught Blacksnake upon the neck, beneath the chin, with a powerful blow. With a gurgling sort of gasp, the bully tum- bled backward to the floor, and for a time lay there motionless. ‘‘Reckon you've broke his neck!”. a miner cried, ‘Nary!” the stranger answered, ‘‘ No such good fortune. He bas a neck like a buffalo bull. Let bim lie there, till he gets ready to arise. Come, barkeeper, set "em up again. We'll see who wiil spoil our beverage, tuis time!” The order was obeyed, and the drinks tossed off, then the stranger took from his pocket @ magnificent gold watcb, and glanced at the time. “Tt lacks a couple of minutes yet!” he said, looking from one to the other of the miners, ‘‘but a couple of minutes can make but little odds to me, { know. If any one should inquire for me, tell them my name is John Smith, or John Jones, or anything of the sort—I’m not particular what. So here goes!” Before any one could comprehend his inten- tion, he suddenly Files a pistol from a holster upon his hip, and pressing the muzzle to his forehead— Would have blown his brains out, had nota lithe figure leaped in through the doorway, and with a well-aimed blow, dashed the weapon to the floor where it exploded! CHAPTER II. KIT AND THE CHARMER, “THET won't do, pardner—chaw my ear fer a dinner-bell, if it will!” the new-comer cried, who had prevented the would be suicide from Boompiang his purpose, just in the nick of time. “Ef I was you, I’d go kick myself fer bein’ sech a ninny. You're no better nor a suckin’ calf, darned ef ye be. Afore I'd let any gal go git her grip on me, so thet I couldn’t do nothin’ better than commit suicide, ’'d go duck my head in a bucket o’ soft soap, and smother my- self, | would!” The speaker who delivered this harangue, was not a man, nor had he hardly the appear- ance of a boy, except that his figure was rather short. He was wirily built, however, and his countenance, with its waggish mouth, sparkling eyes, and wealth of dirt, wore an expression of shrewdness that bespoke him to be older in ex- perience, by far, than in years. His hair was of a brick-red color; and he was attired in a rough suit of clothing, boots whose patent-leather tops reached above his knees, and a slouched sombrero, jauntily turned up at one side, rig for a rather dirty face, he was not a bad-looking youth. His gaze met that of the would-be suicide, without flinching, as he spoke. “‘ What the devil right had you to interfere in what was none of your business?’ the tall stranger angrily demanded, “Tve a mind to kick you out into the street.” “Sho! Ye wouldn’t do that, now? Ye hain’t got as much gratitude as a cat has, when ye rub its ha’r the wrong way!” “Ef he bad any gumption at all, he’d be thankin’ ye,” grunted a miner, ‘‘On course he would!” the boy declared. ‘‘Suthin’ wrong, in yer sky-parlor, ain’t thar! A leak in the roof, or suthin’ the sort?” “‘ No, there’s no leak in my roof, sir, but there will be in yours, if you ever attempt to meddle in my affairs again, Who are you!” “Me? Oh! I’m Christofer Bricktop, from Bosting, M a-s-s, Mass. What name dye swear to, when ye go to ther polls, ter vote?” ‘Tt matters not what my name is. Mike Malone’s as good as anything else, I reckon, Now stand aside, and let me pass!” ‘‘Nix-ee, Mr. Malone! Ye can’t get out thet door, ontil ye promise me ye won’t try no more susancide pranks!” ‘T shall not be likely to try again, to-night.” ‘‘Shan’t-be-likely-to, is a hoss of a different color. Iwant yer solid ante-mortem statement that ye wor.’t do yerself no harm!” ‘‘What’s the difference it makes to you, whether I live or die?” the stranger demanded, a puzzled look coming upon his face. ‘That's jest w’at | ain’t makin’ publick, my daisy, an’ | reck’ ye don’t want me too, nuther. So now, ax me no more interrogatives an’ l’ll tender ye no prevarications,” and the boy gave his mouth a peculiar twist, as if to learn wheth- er the big words bad left it in its proper shape. Malone, as he bad titled himself, picked up his revolver, gave the boy another keen glance, and strode from the saloon. t Kangaroo Kit’s Racket. Kit then walked to the bar, and purchased a cigar, after which he dropped into a seat, and began to enjoy the weed, while he took a closer inventory of the peculiarities of the Shebang, andits habitues. He was also an object of great interest to the miners, for, that a mere boy should literally conquer a man like Malone, who in turn, bad gotten away with such a man as Big Black- snake, seemed incredible to the spectators. The gigantic ruffian soon recovered sufficiently ‘to gain a sitting posture, where be remained for a few seconds, rubbing his thick throat, and glaring around bim, So savage did he look, that such of the men of Played-Out as were at the time in his vicinity, involuntarily shrunk away. ‘‘Bad” men there were among them, as the word is often applied to the cases of dare-devil, fight-craving toughs of the West, but the look of Big Blacksnake was so devilish that there were few who would have cared to cross him. Then, too, be was well known in Played-Out, by reputation. Stories had come down from Thunderville, of how he had bossed the town, causing peaceable people, as well as otber classes, to stand in terror of being murdered by the ruffian. Several men had been shot down, by him, and he had been known to point witha sort of in- human pride to the spots where his victims had been ‘‘ planted.” Report said, too, that he bad got bis title, on his debut in Thunderville, by publicly swallow- ing a small blacksnake, which he had caught. As to the truth of this, however, no one ap- peared ready to vouch. The blow he had received from Malone’s fist, had, in truth, very nearly dislocated his neck, and had so stiffened “it that he could only turn his head with great pain. ‘‘Whar’s thet cussed galoot?”’ he gasped, in a wheezy voice, as soon as he could gain power of speech. ‘‘Show me thet dirty skunk w’ot hit me a belt on ther gullet. He’s ther feller I wanter see!” “He is gone!” the barkeeper answered. “You'd better let him alone, my Cbkristian friend, ef ye don’t want yer head bu’sted next time.’ “Oh! I do, bey? I thort he hed broke my neck; but, durn my skin, I sp’iled ther treat anyhow!” “+ He set em up, tho’ after you drapped.” ‘‘Sufferin’? Marier! An’ be didn’t leave no smile paid for, fer me?” ‘‘ Nary a smile!” Blacksnake regained his feet, jammed his hat upon his head, and glared at the assembled guests of the Shebang. “So I got left, hey?’ he murmured. ‘‘ Waal Tl be darned! Hillo! fightin’ Tom-cats an flyin’ boot-jacks! What's this my eyes behold?” His gaze was fastened upon the stage, or rather, directed that way, as were all eyes in the room, A little bell tinkled, the door back of the platform opened, and Miss Mai Roulere came upon the stage, bringing with her a stool and a neatly mounted banjo. ‘‘ Order!” roared the bartender. ‘‘ La Belle Mai will favor the gents with her charming songs. Arter that, she expects you galoots ter pan out right liberal in pay fer yer fun!” A cheer went up from the crowd, at which Mai made a courtesy, and seating herself, began to tune ber instrument with a skillful touch, She looked very beau iful. She was attired in a mull dress of snowiest white, which reached to a trifle above the 0 and exposed a dainty pair of slippered eet. At her throat was fastened a bunch of wild flowers, and more were arranged in her hair, which flowed in a flossy wealth to her tapering waist, Young Christopher’s eyes admiration. He was just arriving at that age when boy love usually begins its existence as a passion, and he was ready to declare that the vision of female loveliness upon the stage was the sweetest of her sex upon the face of the earth. ‘* Phew! ain’t she a daisy!” he commented to bimself. ‘‘1’ll jest bet a good two-cent Chicago cigar thet she’s my divine affinity, or suthin’ of the kind. I allers did hev an idea ['d run across some gal as would suit my taste, an’ here’s proof of it, Ill jest manage ter git inter- dooced, an’ see ef I can’t make a mash on A few skillful turns of the keys, and Mai bad her instrument in perfect tune; then, in a clear, sparkled with pure voice, of marvelous sweetness, she sung 4 ° pathetic ballad in a manner that would have done credit to any experienced artiste. All agape wita interest, the miners listened, their eyes riveted upon the attractive pet of the mines, in a way that bespoke respectful ad- miration. So quiet was their demeanor, that a pin could have been heard to drop, but for the melody of the singer and the soft accompani- ment of ber instrument. From bis position Kit could watcb them, and was agreeably surprised. Upon only one face was there aught but purest respect for the little beauty. That face belunged to the “terror” from hinder sills, Big Blacksnake. There was a gloating ¢xpression of sensual admiration expressed upon his countenance—a sinister gleam, boding no good intention, in his bold stare. “Thet galoot means devilment!” Kit mut- tered: “but, big as he is, ef he trie = "* too fresh with my charmer, chaw me Up ‘Or A wos 0’ cotton ef I don’t bounce bim!” Had any one overheard this declaration, and compared the youth with the ruffian, they must certainly have been amused. Yet Kit meant every word of it, as was evi- dent by the sbarp flash of his eve: At the conclusion of the ballad, the audience cheered vociferously, Kit doing his part, while the clap of Big Blacksnake’s hands could be heard shows the din, Mai immediately struck up a banjo solo, of 4 lively character, and Kit, who had heard _ professional artistes in Chicago, could not recall one who could excel ber. Her pretty fingers seemed to be especially designed for such work, While she manipulated the instrument, her gaze roved over the rugged faces of her audi- tors, and she saw Kit, evidently for the first time. His flushed, eager face, and admiring geze, caused a faint rift of color to deepen the tinge upon her cheeks, and she averted her own geze for a moment: but it was only for a moment. Their eyes met again, and a smile from ber lips fairly mude his beart jump up in his throat. She once more averted her gaze, and did not look at him for some time, and then gave him merely a careless glance, that would not have implied the least recognition—at which Kit wondered if his heart wasn’t endeavoring to creep down into bis boots. After the solo, she sung a couple more songs, to tremendous applause; then she arose, and made her courtesy. ‘++ Now, then, ye galoots, shell out yer collat’!” sung Fat Fred, Tim Flannigan’s bartender. ‘All o’ yees knows that charity begins ter home!” Every miner responded by tossing a coin or two, of some denomination upon the stage, only to receive a winning smile of thanks, in pay- ment, Kit arose, advanced to the stage, and doffing his hat, tossed a nugget of solid gold at Mai’s feet, while a murmur of astonishment passed among the spectators. The nugget was nearly as large as a duck’s egg! Mai seemed greatly surprised, too, but, mak- ing one of her most charming courtesies, stooped and gathered up the giftsof her ad- mirers. At this instant, Big Blacksnake staggered for- ward. It was evident that he had overloaded himself with whisky, before he entered the saioon, ‘‘Kerwhoop! Thomas cats fightin’ an’ doot- jacks a-flyin’!” he cried. ‘Et aire a durned rotten sbame, but I ain’t got a red cent ter give ye, my purty petticut!” Mai gave bim a startled glance. “Thank you,” she said, bastily. ‘It don’t matter in the least. I have received a great plenty, and am gg oun for it.” “Ob! ye aire? ly, gal! Thar’s only one favor I kin give ye, an’ that’s a good solid kiss! Whoop-ee!” and he essayed to clamber upon the stage. Before he could do so, however, a lithe figure bounded forward, aud a strong arm jerked bim down upon his back, on the floor. Another instant and Kit stood upon the stage, with one arm about Mai’s slender waist, while his right band clutched a cocked revolver. ‘‘None of thet kind o’ bizness, when Kangaroo Kit’s around!” he cried sternly. ‘‘ Ain’t I right, pilgrims? Ye would none o’ ye hev such a bloated cuss as thet aire insult this gal, | Know !” A cheer of approval broke forth, and revol- vers were whipped out on every band, Big Blacksnake scrambled to his feet, spitting oo Ke)