Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 48 — page 1: what you’re looking at

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

{SS — mm —_—- —- = THE PONY EXPRESS RIDER. BY FREDERICK WHITTAKER, AUTHOR OF ‘“‘ THE SEA-CAT,” “‘ THE DUMB PAGE,” ETC., ETC, CHAPTER IL THE MAIL STATION. A wow adobe* hut, with about the same amount of comfort that exists in an ordi stable in New York; a large corral behind it, in which some twenty wiry little mustangs were playing about; a stockade near the hut and sp into the corral; a stone gran within the stockade, loop-holed and iron-portaled; two men lounging in the sun in front of the hut, one smoking, another cleaning his revolvers; behold the appearance of Dolores Station, Pony Express Route, in Nevada Territory, some twenty years ago. The two men were widely different in external appear- ance and seemed to be in character, judging from many indications. The smoker was a short, broad pe hig se of about fo whose s ir amd boned socked te it ths comb and they were distant acquaintances, that seldom met, The light-blue uniform in which he was dressed was dirty and careless, the jacket unbuttoned, disclosin a shirt, once red, now a dingy e, the trowsers ragged fn e seat and inside of the thigh to the knee, as if from ri , while the huge boots were brown and rusty. The little brierwood pipe was stuck atone side of a grim, determined mouth, and the face of the smoker was that of arough, reckless frontiers- man, The second man was young- er, taller and slighter, as well as INcomparably neater and handsomer. He did not seem to be over twenty, for his face was nearly smooth, a soft brown mustache barel Shading his upper m+ e wore his curling chestnut hair long and flowing, under the neat, dark-blue chasseur me which bore in old Eng- lish letters, on the front, the mysteriousinitials U.S. P. E. inclosed in a silver horse- shoe. The difference between his uniform and that of his comrade was amazing, By the mere fact of its being cut . d\\ *Adobe. Sun-dried brick, the =~ commen material for houses in the climates of Califurnia, Mex- ico, Nevada, etc, ee ae ee Dick Darling, S | “ WS) ‘) *\* ’ | ! s Vi > SAAT! , \ \ - ae . iu > — ; Wy ~ , ~~ ~ AS , \ 25 KoA. . . oe a ” . < a V = we. ‘ =e ™ - i! ~ NN * > > te, * Youd ~ Ss G * 5 BU lle Alen fell fe tie YY WS ¢ ye | | No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK, close and fitting well, and being buttoned up, while the riding-boots of patent-leather were kept oiled and shining, it gave him the appear- ance of a different being. The two revolvers that he was cleaning were pened as bright as silver, and yet he continued poli g them with a piece of chanivisleatier. ntly his companion removed the pipe from his mouth, and growled out: “Say, Dick, what’n thunder’s the use of clean- in’ up them things? They don’t shoot a bit straighter fur’t, and the company don’t ‘low fur’t. I wouldn’t waste my time, a-polishin’ up them darned old pops.” The youngster addressed as ‘‘ Dick,” smiled. **T don’t know that I waste any more time on them than you do on smoke, Jack, and if they don’t shoot any straighter, at least they don’t do any worse for a cleaning.” ‘* But what’s the use o’ livin’, ef a cuss has to be a-cleanin’ of himself all the time?’ objected DICK DARLING AT BAY. TLL y fA r WA ? A - \ \n - s(n nV aN ¥ NY AY <a | Y | My "5 Cents. Jack, with a huge yawn. “I sw’ar ef it warn’t fur my pipe, I wouldn’t be worth a Continental these times. Put the pistols away and hev a sociable draw, you finikin® young galoot.” Dick Darling gave his revolvers a final rub, and then placed them in the patent-leather hol- sters, on each side of a neat belt, that lay on the end of the bench on which he was sitting. As carefully and methodically as he did every thing else, he put away the belt in the cabin, and returned, a a large and handsome meerschaum pipe in his hand, which he slowly and carefully filled from a neat little pouch. , Jack Hardin grinned somewhat contemptuous- y: ‘* What a luxuriant cuss you air, Dick. Kurn’t be content with any thing but a meers’ha’m. out in the Alkali Desert. Durned ef I don’t believe you'll be hevin’ silver spoons out hyar, some day.” ‘I certainly shall when I get enough cash, Jack,” said Darling, tranquilly lighti | his pipe. “ What's the use‘ of sinking to: the level of a’ beast, because we seldom see any thing but horses? I be- lieve in civilization myself, and you know, Jack, we're ioneers of civilization out ere.” ** Civilization be durned!” cried Hardin, with a grim- ace. ‘*We’re out hyar to kerry the mails and keep off Injins from Uncle Sam’s stock, that’s what we’re hyar for. Id like to see a Ute brave go fur your skulp some morning! Guess he’d shake the civilization outen you in short order, and spell bounce in darned big capitals. You'll wish you hadn’t wasted so much time a-combin’ that ha’r of fone just about them times, I reckon.” Dick Darlin laughed good- naturedly. e seemed not at all hurt by his compan- ion’s rough pleasantries, as he said: “Tll admit that such a predicament might be dis- agreeable, Jack, but 1 fancy I should get through it, somehow.” Hardin growled. ‘‘VYes, somehow. That's what’s the matter. Boy, you don’t know what it is to huga ° grizzly, or meet a red on the war-path. Ef you'd drop that ‘ere cleanin’ up and take to shootin’, mout hev hopes on yer. As it is, every time yer go out, I never ’spec’ to see ver ag’in.” ‘Every man to his taste, Jack. I’ve come back safe, several times. Come, you want to be shooting all the time. What say you to a match?” ‘“‘Shoot yer all da dollar a shot,” said eagerly. ‘“‘ Let’s an excitement. at a ardin, git up The mail CONNIE OOO KS.