Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 424 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

i) \ ~~ o-oo ae eee oa ere i ter cut up that way fer nothin’; not by a long sight.” cs What I tell you, is true,” Cibuta John in- sisted. ‘‘ I never saw her before.” *“*Oh! don’t think [ doubt yer word!” Jem ex- claimed. ‘‘I mean it’s queer why she—why—” **'Why she should be interested in me then, eh? That’s what you would say?” ‘* Wal, yes; er somethin’ ter that effect.” e Well, I am sure I do not know. Perhaps she was watching the fight, and when she saw my danger she became so excited she did not know what she did. Women do strange things sometimes, you know.” So Cibuta John spoke, but it was not what he believed. He believed there was something back of it all which did not appear upon the surface. He now had an idea where the silver dagger, with its mysterious note attached, had come from. ** Yes, that may be it,” Jem admitted. ‘‘ Ez you say, wimmin is queer critters. Some wim- min kin kill a b’ar; but jest let a poor little skart-ter-death mouse show itself, an-— Wal, they’re done fer! There’s my wife, Sally Ann, fer instance. If any one kin explain why she will dodge inter a closet, an’ stand thar fer two mortal hours in th’ heat, wi’ th’ sweat a-pourin’ out all over her, an’ all jest because she’s seen a flash o’ lightnin’, er heard a clap o’ thunder, I’d like ter know it. She don’t know, that’s sure; an’ if I ax her she gits mad. Does she think that ar’ same flash is a-cavoortin’ round yet, after it’s come an’ bin an’ gone, lookin’ jest specially fer her? Ez you said, pard, wimmin is queer.” ‘She ain’t afeerd o’ you, though, be she Jem?” Bill Twicker asked. ** Afeerd o’ me! I’m afeerd o’ your dor Truth was, when been made one, Sall the responsibility o held the position. ‘* Well,” Cibuta John presently announced, ‘**T guess I will go up to the Dew-drop, and turn in for the night.” hod he rose to go. ‘** Hold on, pard,” said Bob Burdock, the store- keeper, ‘* don’t go off an’ fergit this heur silver I don’t want th’ cussed thing around ‘*Oh! yes, I had forgotten it.” And Cibuta went to the shelf and took the dagger down, thrusting it into his pocket. ** Well, good-night, friend!” he said, and went out; a hearty “‘ good-night” following him from every man in the store. He went at once to the Dew-drop Inn, and re- tired to his room. There, as he recalled the events of the even- ing, he once moro examined the silver dagger. ** Strange stories they tell of you,” he said half- aloud addressing it. And once more he read the Jegend it bore. ‘* The stories are true, I do not doubt; but is it fate? or mere chance?” As he turned the mysterious weapon over and over, he presently thought he detected more en- graving near its edge. If engraving it was, it was so fine as to defy the naked eye toread it. Besides, it seemed to be partly worn away in places, Cibuta John had a small magnifying-glass, and taking it from his pocket he placed the dag- ger under it. Instantly he was enabled to read: * When five have fallen by this brand— And five most surely will - Unless it be too soon destroved— *T will work no further il!.”’ “ Well, thisis a mystery,” Cibuta mused, as he sat and stared at the dagger. ‘‘ Let me see: Four are known to have fallen by it since it came to this place. Is there still one more to follow? or, did it find a victim previously to its advent here? ‘As the gambler queen said, it is truly ac- cursed, ‘‘ Now, what am J to do with it? Shall I fear the legends it bears, and throw it away? No, never! I will keep it! ** What it has done in the past has been the re- sult of mere chance; and, even though there be some truth in the legends, I do not know but that the fated five have met their doom, ‘If so, and this last poetic effusion is to be re- lied on, the silver dagger’s work is done. ‘*T wonder how it came tome? Wasit Judge Hucklebee’s daughter who threw it? If so, I wonder where she was at the time? I could see noone around, I must find out. A fine-looking irl is Miss Eucklebee, to judge by the glimpse I ad ot her. I wonder if I shall make her ac- quaintance? ‘Well, silver dagger, you are something of a Yas, jest about ez much ez Sancho, thar.” em and Sally Ann had Ann had at once assumed being that one. She still mystery; but, keep you I will.” : ex - Pied. Cibuta John. -_ And thrusting the dagger into his pocket, he put out his light and retired to bed for the night. Like Judge Hucklebee, little he knew of what was in store for him. When morning came, with it came the recol- lection to the people of Ante-Bar that two pris- oners were in the lock-up awaiting sentence. Trial,” think you, would be a more fitting words Notso. No trial was deemed necessary. The proof of guilt was too evident and conclu- sive. Nevertheless, Judge Hucklebee opened court in due form. Judge Hucklebee was only a sheriff, ’tis true; but to be the sheriff of the town of Ante-Bar, was to be its governor. In truth, the latter would have been a far more fitting title. Court, by the way, was held in the post- office. When Judge Hucklebee had taken his seat, cere: the prisoners were arraigned before him, he said: ‘** Acting in my official capacity as Sheriff of this town of Ante-Bar, prisoners at the bar, it becomes my duty this morning to pass sentence upon you for two several offenses. ‘‘The first j* this: Last night, you, with masks over your faces, did waylay and threaten a gentleman who had come here to sojourn fora time in our midst. You threatened his life. ‘* For that offense you both merit permanent expulsion from this town, ‘The second offense is as follows: After your arrest for the crime aforesaid, you were gwen the alternative of fighting your captor, or taking your punishment at our hands. ou chose the former. In that fight, like the cowards at heart that you are, you drew knives and at- ie he to murder your opponent. ‘** You are guilty of both charges. ** Now, therefore, inasmuch as you have part- a suffered punishment for the first cffense, the ourt decides as follows: That the said first offense be thrown out, and that sentence be vassed upon you for the second offense only. ave you anything to say as to why you should not now receive the sentence of the Court?” Judge Hucklebee’s address was in some re- spects a remarkable one. ‘Ef I may now be premitted ter yawp my awp,” said ‘* Giant” John Jones, ‘‘I reckon as plat some remarks ter make. Ter begin with, this heur are a queer old trialanyhow! Nothin’ hez bin proved, Who makes ther first charge ag’in’ us? That’ar black-an’-tan Mexican half- breed thar?” pointing to Cibuta John. ‘‘ Him ? Wal, kin he prove it? Proof is what we want heur, an’ no One-man’s story biz! Kin he prove what he sez? Ef he can’t, then—” Here *‘ the Court” stopped him. ‘Please bear in mind,” he said, ‘‘ that the first charge has been thrown out.” ‘Oh! oh! Bin throwed out, eh? Oh! ’skuse me! Wal, then, what is ther other one? Who sez we used knives, eh? Jest trot out ther man w’at sez So, an—” Again he was cut off, ‘* Perhaps,” said ‘*‘ the Court,” ‘‘ your friend, Mr. Bobsled, would like to make a few remarks. Your own do not seem to keep to the point. Mr. Bobsled, have you anything to offer? Mr. Bobsled had not; he was the silent part- ner. ‘‘Then,” said the judge, ‘‘ the sentence of this Court is, that you both be conducted five miles away from this town, turned face to the east, and set free, never more to be allowed to return. And may God have merey upon your souls.” The judge then appointed the guard who were to do the *‘ conducting,” and closed the case by saying: ‘*Mr. Jones, you may now take your Bobsled and ‘ slide.’” The guardsmen understood what was required of them. They procured two strong poles, put one prisoner astride of each, tied his feet, and then lifting the poles to their shoulders, marched out of town, half the population of the place fol- lowingythem. It was what is called ‘‘ riding on a rail.” As they were lifted up to the shoulders of those who carried them, Giant John turned to Judge Hucklebee and ¢‘ibuta John, and cried: ‘*Cusses on ye both! ‘Tl fix ye, er my name ain’t Giant John!” And he continued to curse and threaten as long as he could be heard, The town congratulated itself that they were gone, ~ Later in the day Cibuta John, who had that morning bought a horse, mounted his animal and rode away to the south. Where to? nna . LLL LALLA LLL LLL LLL Ct ttt, CHAPTER VIII. A DARING DEED. LATE in the afternoon of the same day, the Ante-Bar stage-coach was rolling northward along the same road which Cibuta John had set out upon in the opposite direction about an hour earlier, This coach carried the mail, and was drawn by four fine horses. It carried also some six or eight passengers, some of whom we must here introduce. On the box beside the driver sat one Gerald Keyne. He was a fine-looking man, perhaps Lt fp ofage. He was tall and dark, and spor a charming mustache. There was about him however, a certain something that be- spoke, to the practiced eye, the gentleman *‘sharper.” Such he was. Upon the top of the coach were three men, evidently miners. Inside, the first to be mentioned, was a young and handsome woman. This lady was Clara St. Clare, on her way to Ante-Bar to become the ‘*schoolmarm” of the new school. She was about twenty-four years of age, though she did not look to be more than twenty. She was a decided brunette. Her luxuriant hair was a very dark brown in color, and her eyes, as black as jet, were as bright and flashing as diamonds. fisee was truly beautiful, both of face and of orm, Beside her, on the same seat, sat an old negro, His name, or rather the only one he knew, was Snowball White. A blacker ‘‘ nigger ” than he, never lived. He was so black, that one might have supposed charcoal would make a white mark on him. He had been born and reared as a slave. He was to Clara St. Clare a servant, companion, body-guard and protector in one. The lady’s father had once been a slave-owner and Snowball White his best, most faithful, and most trustworthy slave. When freedom had been declared, Snowball absolutely refused to accept his. He preferred to remain as he was. He was now traveling with his young mistress in the capacity named. ; The next to be mentioned, was a little, dried- et ate man, who rejoiced in the name of Phineas Skynn. Mr. Skynn was a lawyer—at least he claimed to be. The other passenger was an old Jew. The lady was reading, the old darky was doz- ing, the lawyer was sleeping soundly, and the old Jew sat with his hands crossed over the head of a heavy cane, evidently lost in thought. Outside, the men on top were enjoying a game of ‘‘ penny-ante,” while Gerald Keyne and the driver were having a quiet talk and smoke to- gether. And the stage, as stated, was rolling along. Its speed was neither fast nor slow, but a happy medium gait between the two. Presently, as it rounded an abrupt bend in the road, a startling sight met the driver’s gaze, ‘“Whoap! Hol’ up!” he cried, putting on the brake with his foot, and pulling back hard upon the reins. ‘‘ Whoap! you critters! Heur’s a toll-gate!” And in a moment, the stage was at a stand. Just ahead, in the middle of the road, was a most remarkable-looking being. It was presumably a man; but if so, he was most unbecomingly attired. He was dressed in a green and red striped Mother Hubbard gown, had an old-fashioned sun-bonnet of the same material on his head, and over his face wore a mask. In each hand was a revolver at full-cock, botk leveled straight at the driver’s head. The moment the stage came to a stand, this strange individual cried out: ‘‘ Ah! there, my size—ez near eg I kin judge! T'll—not steal you, but Pll drill ye ez full o’ holes ez a culinary skimmer, onless ye put up yer little paws an’ be ez meek ez lambs! Ah! That's right! It does my heart good ter meet a driver like you! You know your biz, you do! You know jest what’s required! Why, a wink is jest ez good ez a nod, ter you, every bit I’m ’most tickled ter death ter make yer ac quaintance! An’ yer passengers, too! All so sensible an’ obligin’! t can't begin ter tell ye how proud I am. Really, gentlemen, ye must ‘a’? bin thar before, every One 0’ ye; you’re so well posted. AJl I had ter do war ter stand heur in the road, wi’ my batteries exposed, an’ ye stopped *thout my sayin’ a word. Now, ef yell keep yer han’s right up, thar won’t be a drap o’ blood shed. Ef not— But, pshaw! I may ez well keep still! I kin see at a glance that ye know jest what’s required, so I'll say ne more about that. It might do ter mention that six good rifles are a-lookin’ at ye though, each one on ’em ready ter puke up a chunk o’ lead ex Jexeye)