Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 376 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

A =: agility that Joe had never seen in a human being before, and planted both heels in the face of the Tennesseean, knocking him back on the grass, where “8 lay like a corpse, struck senseless by that single low. Then the meek-looking man started to the fire, where the other two Scott boys were staring at the fray, and observed coolly: ‘“Come, brethren, while the hand of the Lord is on me, I may as well smite Belial to the earth. Is there another of the family that wants to be con- verted from the error of his ways?”’ Jim Seott and his brother Bob stared at this re- markable personage, and Jim with some little tre- mor in his voice, said: ‘Thankee, stranger, but I ain’t no hog. I don’t want nothen’ to do with ye."’ The deacon smiled, with the same benevolence that had marked his mien all along, as he said; ‘Friend, thou art wise in thy generation. How is it with thy brother? While the Spirit of the Lord is on me, 1 must be up and doing. It would be a good work to convert a whole family from the ways of darkness.”’ Bob grinned, ‘“‘Thankee fur nothen’, stranger,’ hesaid. ‘*‘The old man hadn’t orter gone whar he did, and I ain’t the one to b’ar malice fur a fa’r fight.” The deacon ‘aughed, as he replied: “Then let us have peace, bereafter. The Lord be with you.” And he stalked back to his own little tent, and was going inside, when old Scott gave a groan, and California Joe took him up in his strong arms, and helped him away, saying as he did so: “Ye would have it, and naow ’tain’t no time to squeal, Scott.” e deacon looked after them as they went, the farmer not able to walk, but euppuetes by the big, ungainly-looking young man, and something in the affair seemed to strike him in a ludicrous light, for he ay epee to himself, and re-entered his tent, where he was no more disturbed, The night wore away, and the first peep of dawn found the. Seotts out of the tent, getting breakfast ready, while the French family, ners nished the savory stew, the night before, was obliged to come down to the same salt pork and sodden bread, cook- ed in a fryingpan, which was the staple fare of the Scotts. As for the deacon, that worthy man was up before any of them, and they saw him go down to the river and wash himself, with a care and pre- cision that was a revelation to the Scott family, and still more to the little Gabelles, who did as little washing as they possibly could, at most times. Then he came back to his little mule, struck his curious tent, and began to cook his simple break- fast, which he did in a wey that showed he was used to taking care of himself. The Scotts looked rather sulky that morning, and when the wagon was ready to start, the old man took the reins, and went off across the prairie, with- out waiting for any one else, even California Joe, bene _ his part, did not appear to care much what they did. When the Gabelles started out, the deacon and Joe went with them, the Scotts being far ahead. CHAPTER IV. A HOLY GUIDE. Tne way of the little caravan, that —~ lay through a beautiful, green, waving prairie, w th the ass up to the horses’ bellies, as soon as the broad trail was left behind; for it was early spring and everything at its best. California Joe rode ahead of the Gabelle wagon, and the deacon walked beside him, leading the little mule, and stepping out with a free gait that showed him to be used to that method of ®Bcomo- tion. Joe’s mule was a big, ungainly animal, not fast, but stanch and untiring, and it a swift walk, which is a great desideratum in a long march. The deacon seemed to be able to march as fast as the mule, for he carried nothing but the umbrella, and had put his black coat on the load, before start- ng. that morning. They soon outstripped the wagon of the Gabelles, and came up with that of the Scotts, which was going slowly ane: over the prairie, impeded by the ruts in the trail, and the numerous holes of the marmots, which infested that part of the prairie. California Joe, as he passed the wagon at a dis- tance of a hundred yards or so, on one side, hailed J oy Scott, who was driving the leaders, and called out: ‘Mornin’, Jim. Haow d’ye feel this mornin Jim's reply was a scowl, as he answered: * You kin stick to aed old deacon, by gum; but he’d best look aout haow he comes raound aour camp, any more; fur we’ve gotitin fur him. He’s nigh killed dad, with his darned tricks.”’ ‘Why, what’s the matter?” asked Joe, surprised at the tone of the man who bad given in, the night before. , ‘*The matter is that dad’s got a pain in his side, and it’s all that infernal skunk, that jumped on him,” said Jim, savagely. ‘Don’t ye come nigh hyar, Joe. ef 7 don’t wanter git pl . It ain’t no rough-and-tummle naow; but yell find aout more’n ye like, ef ye come too close.’ California Joe was about to answer angrily, for the threat was all that was needed to inflame his hot young blood, when the deacon laid his hand on the young man’s arm, and said, in a low voice: Tis not worth quarreling about, young man, I broke two of his ribs. and he hath cause to feel sore aboutit. Let us go on” The words struck Joe as sensible, for he did not want to pick quarrels with men who had certainly 1999 California Joe’s First Trail. ES TD Ee eee —_-- — | treated him with hospitality the night before, what- ever their course toward the inoffensive stranger; so he rode on past the Scott wagon with his new companion, and soon had gotten far ahead, so slow was the progress of the heavily-loaded vehicles as compared with the progress of the two unimpeded men, Thus they rode along for several miles, when Joe observed: * Right smart little mule you’ve got thar, dea- con. Carries a heap more’n one ‘u’d give him credit fur.”’ Simplicity Fox nodded, “Charity is a faithful beast, but she hath her faults, friend,” ‘* Ay, and what’s one of ’em?”’ asked Joe. ** She will allow no man to ride her, save myself,” was the response of Simplicity, Joe grinned. ‘“‘ Waal, stranger,” he said, ‘1 call myself some on the ride, and never seen a mule or hoss I c’u’dn’t straddle as long as they stood up on thar legs. mrs I kin ride that mule, any time, fur the rhino.” The deacon shook his head as he said, solemnly: ‘Friend, thou talkest after the manner of the world. My religion forbids me to make wagers, after the fashion of the ungodly; but when we go into camp, thou shalt have a chance at Charity, if thou wilt.” Joe laughed. ‘All right, deacon; we'll try it when the rest come *p You air a rum kind of a snoozer, any- haow. To look at ye, one ‘u'd think ye c’u’dn’t melt butter in yer maouth, but ye kin fight like a streak. Is all the deacons in your church the same as you be?”’ he deacon was trudging along beside the mule, with his eyes bent on the ground, as Joe spoke, He lifted them and cast a swift, suspicious glance at the tall Kentuckian, as he said evasively: “Friend, I do not profess to be a fighter, or I should not be out here in the wayIam, My creed is to live peaceably with all men, and do harm to none. Isthine any better?’ Joe colored slightly. He was a young fellow wno had rarely been to anything in the way of church in his life, and like most Western men, thought but little of anything but the present. But he had a respect for religion, like all of his kind, and it was quite respectfully he said: ‘‘ Waal, deacon, I ain’t goin’ ‘raound pickin’ quar’ls with no man; but I must say that, when I seen you fu’st, I thought you must be crazy.”’ “And why?” asked the other, turning his blue eyes mildly on the young man, Joe hesitated. ‘Waal, waal—’cause—’cause—ye see, thar’s a heap of Injuns on the plains, they tell me, and you hain’t got so much asa pistol abaout ye.”’ “'True,’? was the tranquil ly, ‘‘and in that the time may come when thou shalt see that 1 was right and thou wrong. Of what avail would be all the wers of that rifle thou thinkest so highly of in the ace of a war-party of the U:es or Cheyennes, when we come into their country? They would riddle thee with arrows, ere thou couldst fire more than one shot." Joe looked at his lo Kentucky rifle with a glance of half-sad, half-affectionate interest, as he said: **T dunno but what ye're abaout right thar, I’ve h’ard a good deal abaout these new-fangled things they calls Colts, but I never seen ,one, and dunno ef I’d know haow to use ’em, ef Ihad one of ’em. Old Brownie, hyar, ’s got to do me till I git to Californy, I reckin, She’ git game, anyhaow, and that’s what I brung her for. They were all alone as he spoke, in the midst of a sea of waving grass, the river-bottom being here many miles wide, and the grass so high as to cut off a great part of the horizon, Out of alittle clump of bushes just ahead of them at that very moment jumped a deer, almost under the feet of Joe’s mule, and was bounding off, when the Kentuckian threw his rifle to his shoulder, and, following the flying animal for a few bounds, his eye glancing along the barrel, fired. ave a lofty leap in the air as the rifle The deer cracked, and then fell all ina mene eronped in its tracks as neatly as the thing could have been done, The deacon looked at the feat with a silent but approving air, as he remarked: “Friend Joe, thine eye sees straight, and after thou hast been on the plains a little longer, thou wilt make a scout and guide.”’ Something in the tone struck Joe; for he cast his eyes on his companion, as he remarked: ‘* Why, deacon, to hyar you talk, one ‘u’d think you'd b’en on them afore yerself.”” Simplicity smiled, as he answered, tranquilly: “Friend, thow art right. I have, orI should not be where lam now. Let us take up the deer and make the most of him, between Charity and thine own beast. We can take the most of the carcass to camp to-night.” They went forward to where the deer lay, and Joe, dismounting, took out his- knife with the readiness of one who had performed the work many times before, and began the operation of skinning and disemboweling. The first he carried no further than to make room for the last, and the carcass was cut in half, the hind-quarters and saddle eee 3 put behind Joe’s saddle, while little Charity had the fore-quarters for her share of the load. By the time they had made the arrangement. the Scott wagon was coming up fast in the rear, and the vehicle of Gabelle was catching up with it. as the horses toiled forward through the long grass, to- ward the distant Kansas, which they had left at daybreak to cut off a curve, and which now glisten- ed, like a silver thread, far before them, at a ford where the trail crossed the river, as it did several times in the course of the journey. | As the Scotts came up, they cast a curious Pox at the game the hunters had secured; and Joe, thinking it a good time to make peace, called out to Jim Scott, who was driving the leading wagon: ‘‘What’s the use of growling over a fa’r fight? Hyar we've got a pile o aoe venison, and ef you want it, say the word. ar’s more’n we kin eat; try. aour best.” he overture seemed not to be without effect, for the sulky look vanished from Jim’s face, to a great extent, as he said: “T hain’t got nothen’ ag*in you, Joe. Whoshot the deer? Ef it were ov, all right.” ** Waal it weve me, and no mistake,” said Joe, and he panes the breech of his rifle affectionately as he spoke. ‘‘Old Brownie, hyar, ain’t to be beat at a off-hand shot, and don’t you furgit it, Jim Scott. When ye git a little further aout on the plains, ye may need her, and be sorry ye told me to go away.” ere the face of the elder Scott peered out of the front of the wagon, behind his son, and he queru- lously asked: ‘* Whar’s that feller they call the deacon?" ‘‘ Here am I, friend,” was the unruffled reply, as the deacon advanced near the wagon. ‘Truly lam sorry to hear that I hurt thee more than I had in- tended, last night; but thou, on thy part, must remember that thou didst threaten to tear out mine eyes, and that is a sad deprivation to a man in this wilderness.” Old Scott looked pale and haggard—all the fight taken out of him as he moaned; ‘* Waal, I got the wu’st of it, and naow, ef you're a minister, as you say you air, what air you gwine to do fur me?’ Simplicity Fox answered: ‘* He that hurts should be able to cure, on a pinch friend. If thou hast abandoned thine evil designs, i am ready to help thee, and the air of the plains will do the rest. Where is the pain?” Old Scott pressed his hand to his right side, with such a pale face and deep groan, that it was evident that he was not feigning. ‘“Tu’s hyar—/yar, all raound thar. It cuts likea knife, when I draw a breath.”’ “Then let thy sons lift thee from the wagon, and we will go into camp by the river yonder. We can do no traveling till thou art out of pain, but the fracture is not ser:ous.”’ The wagon was turned toward the distant river and soon approached the banks, where the cam was pitched, and the old farmer taken from his wagon and laid on the grass by the water-side. His family gathered roun strange figure of the deacon, with a superstitious awe that told how his conduct, the night before, had impressed them, There were in the Scott household, besides the mother, three daughters-in- law, wives of Tom, Jim, and Bob, with two of the Scott girls, proper, Martha and Lucinda; both hearty, fine-looking girls, with the fresh complex- ion of the mountains from which they had come, and the thews and sinews of Hebes. These girls especially stared at the long flaxen locks of the deacon, with something very like ad- miration; for, now that he could be seen in day-~ light, he was a decidedly handsome man, in spite of s disfiguring dress. In the midst of perfect silence, he examined the farmer ao and manipulated his side, amid roans of 3 rom the impatient old man, till au ast he said: ‘There, friend, the ends of the ribs are ether now; but the patient needs perfect quiet. If he be moved for the next _two weeks, he will not be able to heal the inju You must make the best of it by pemaping in this spot. Luckily the grass is good, and from the look of the land, there is plenty of game to be found, all round here.” He spoke very coolly, as if the waiting spcil he suggested was nothing out of the common, but old Scott at once said: ‘‘*Tain’t possible, deacon. We hain’t got more’n enough pork to last us to the maountings, and ef ¥e don’t stay hyar, I'll hev to be kerried some- aow.”’ Deacon Simplicity nodded. ‘‘There is sense in what thou sayest, friend, and if thou art set on going forward, and art not so much incensed with me, for having hurt thee in my own defense, to disdain my help, I can show thee a way in which thou canst go forward, and be cured at the same time,”’ ‘‘How? how?” asked Scott, eagerly. “Tell me the way, and I'll give in that you’re the best man at a rough-and-tumble I ever seen in my life—and that: ain’t a little from m¢, stranger.” A slight, contemptuous smile curled the lip of the strange deacon, as he replied: -" That is not much, friend. When the strength of the Lord is on his servants they can do wonders. Thou must be bandaged up by me and laid in the wagon again, while 1 show thee a smoother route than that by which the rest of the caravans go, which shall end in leaving thee safe and sound. The road by which I shall lead thee shall be one where thou shalt find peace and plenty, and I will deliver thee from the peril of the wilderness.” There was something in the way he spoke, and the expression of his countenance that struck the simple farmer with awe; for he was an ignorant man, like most of his kind—the crackers of the: South—and he propped his jaw, as he said: ‘Why, stranger, he» you b’en hyar before ?” The deacon bowed his head.. com Cc 900k him, staring at the: We ~