Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 453 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

1 OU a a White Bear, and various stores, shops and ‘ she- bangs.’ ‘* Yes, ve arrived just in time to take a hand in investigating this murder case,” he solilo- quized, as he strode along through the darkness of the starless night, ‘‘and at the same time quietly work up the other matter that brought me here. Altogether, I am likely to be kept employed, and that is what I want. If I can run down this murderer, whoever he may be, I fancy I can find use for that thousand dollars’ reward, without any inconvenience,” He had not yet reached the Lone Deer, when he felt a light tap upon the shoulder, and was surprised to find a man walking along by his side—a tall, finely proportioned fellow, clad in miner’s habiliments, and the possessor of a hand- some face, adorned by a sweeping blonde mus- ‘tache, and lit up by as handsome a pair of eyes as one would care to gaze into, ‘¢ Excuse me, pard,” he said, ‘* but I wished to learn if you got any news at the house, yonder —if the boss was really dead. My name is Joe ‘Colby, an’ I am his mine boss, and Mora was as dear as a father, to me.” : He spoke earnestly, and there was a slight tremor in his voice, which indicated that he spoke his true feelings. ‘*No, I didn’t learn anything at the house, sir,” Sam replied, ‘‘ but you can bet your last trump that your bosses spirit has gone to an- other sphere, by this time.” ‘And youwre going to try to find out who committed the murder?” ‘‘ Well, I rather allow I am!” : ‘¢ God bless you for that!” Colby said, heartily. **Tf you succeed in doing that you will confer a life-long obligation upon Mrs, Mora, Bly, and myself.” ‘Who is Bly?” “The adopted daughter of the Moras. She’s ealled Beautiful Bly Barron, more often, how- ever—Barron having been her own mother’s mame. Bly and I are lovers, you know, only I don’t get a chance to court her much, because Mrs. Mora don’t like me. Bly loves me, just the game, and so I am satisfied.” ! “You ought to be happy. A woman’s faith- ful love is a jewel without price. Did Mr. Mora approve of your love for his adopted child?” ‘ Yes—that is, he never gave me cause to sup- pose that he disapproved of my attention to ly; for, had he, he would have said so, with- out hesitation. He has given me employment, at a good salary, and I believe he liked me full as well as I did him.” Sunflower Sam made no answer for several seconds, appearing to be in deep thought. “Have you any idea who committed this crime?” he finally asked. ‘‘No, indeed! If I had, I would tell you with- out waiting for you to ask.” ‘‘Nor any knowledge that Mr. Mora had any enemies?” ‘¢ None, whatever. He allus ao along first- rate with everybody, and I don’t know the first erson who had anything against him, or owed imagrudge. That’s somethin’ can’t be said of every man,” “You are quite correct, in that. Was Mr. Mora wealthy?” ‘“You bet! Thar’s none in this camp any richer. He owned the Beauty mine, an’ besides that, he had a pile of money.” ‘¢ Where did he keep it?” **T don’t know, ’cept it is in the big safe in his office.” ‘¢ Ts his office in his residence?” ‘‘No, It’s a shanty he built over yonder near the mouth of the mine. But, there’s no danger of anyone’s robbing it, for Clem, the little nigger servant, sits up in the office all night, and if any one tries to get in he teches a knob, an’ an electric current follows an underground wire, and com- amunicates wi’ a bell in the boss’s bedroom,” ‘Ah! Isee. By the way, has Bly any other suitors, besides yourself?” ‘‘ Not that she cares a cent for.” ‘* Has she got any she don’t care a cent for?” ‘‘ Well, I guess so. There’s nigh every man in the camp as likes her. But I reckon the onl ones you could exactly call suitors for her hand, are Augustin Andre, an’ Max.” ‘‘ Max? Who's he?” ‘¢Oh! he’s the nephew o’ the boss.” ‘¢ What sort of a chap is he?” ‘Well, I haven’t got nothing in particular against him, though he is rather jealous of me, because he knows, as does every one else, that Bly is fond of me. But, Max won’t make the man like his uncle was, unless he steadies up in _.. this habits.” ‘¢ He is unsteady, then?” ““ Well, yes, rather. He don’t work, but plays Sunflower Sam, of Shasta. mi , O - faro and poker, and f requently gets more liquor aboard, than is ggod for him.” * ‘* And this Andre?” ** Oh! he’s the next richest man in You Bet to | Joe Mora. He isa sort of a man of leisure, and don’t do nothing in particular, tho’ it’s said he has got piles of money.” After a brief silence, Sunflower Sam went on: ‘Who will be the one most likely to profit by Joseph Mora’s death?” ‘* Well, that’s pretty hard to tell. There’s Max, an’ Bly, aL the wife, and I don’t know which will get the biggest hck. I suppose Mrs. Mora will get something, an’ then I wouldn’t be surprised if the balance were equally divided up between Bly and Max.” ‘* That is, in case a will has been made?” ° yee,” **Do you know if a will has been made?” ‘*No, I do not.” By this time they reached the only hotel in the camp, known as the White Bear, and shook hands, as Colby announced that he had some lit- tle distance further to go. ‘*T hope you'll find the murderer,” he said, earnestly. ‘*T’ve nothing in my hands now, but you may bet your life Sunflower Sam will have a full hand in this game.” ‘*And Joe Colby is with you, pard, through. thick and thin—don’t fergit it!” added the miner solemnly. ‘*Tnanks. You may perhaps be of some use to me, later,” Sam replied, and then entered the hotel and went to his room, from which he had been summoned by the alarm of murder, CHAPTER III. AN INVITATION TO CALL. WHEN another day had dawned, the denizens of You Bet were astir and the excitement of the tragedy of the previous night was revived and intensified. At the Mora residence the grief-stricken fam- ily were gathered about the corpse of the mur- dered speculator, who had been laid out upon a hastily-improvised bier, and both Mrs, Mora and Bly were weeping bitterly, while Max Mora, with tearless eyes, paced the floor, his face ex- pressing no little sorrow. The trio alone kept a vigil with the dead. Mrs. Mora was a good-sized, middle-aged wo- man, with rather a hard, cold cast of features, piercing gray eyes, and hair that was silver- threaded. One’s first impression on meeting her would be that she was a woman of strong will, and not of the most amiable temperament; yet her grief seemed to be genuine, as she sat beside her late partner in life and wept. ; If anything, Bly seemed the most affected at her foster-father’s untimely death; for Mr, Mora had ever been kind and indulgent to her, and she had been his pet and pride. \ ; Karly in the morning the neighbors began to drop in, but were not permitted to view the re- mains—Mrs. Mora and Bly receiving them in another room, while Max left the house to make necessary arrangements for the funeral. By his orders no miners went to work at the Beauty mine, and many of the employees of the other mining industries of the camp laid off, out of respect for the dead citizen. During the morning Max and Sunflower Sam met on the steps of the White Bear Hotel, but the*former barely noticed the sport with a nod, and passed_on. ‘‘The murdered man’s nephew is not inclined to be friendly with me, I take it,” Sam mutter- ed, as he sauntered into the hotel, having just returned from a before-breakfast stroll. ‘‘ Just why, I don’t pretend to know. Perhaps time will develop the why it is thusly.” The proprietor of the White Bear was a port- ly, bald-headed and good-natured fellow known as General Garabaldi Gout, or ‘‘ The General ;” but just whether the man had ever won such a prominent military title, or had adopted it to satisfy a whim, no one in You Bet pretended to know or say. The General was fond of his “bitters,” and was usually more sociable than the average hotel proprietor, always having a jovial greet- ing for those who patronized his bar. Vhen Sam entered the hotel he stepped to the bar, ordered some wine, and invited the General to have an eye-opener with him, an invitation that was not refused. When the drinks had been partaken of, the Sunflower Sport called the General to one side | and they were engaged for some time in conver- sation, after which Sam sought his breakfast, his face wearing an expression of satisfaction. r 3 ‘*'That’s one point gained, if I can trust the proprietor of this shebang to keep mum,” he muttered, ‘‘and I think I can. The old chap seems honest enough, if he has got a red nose!” For, the end of the General’s proboscis was notably like the tinge of the blooming peony. ‘* And, there’s my acquaintance of last night, Joe aye the sport mused on. ‘He appears to be an honest, every-day sort of fellow, with a big heart that has a weak spot in it for’ Miss Bly Barron. I must see this young lady, and also her foster. mother, but not until—” He finished his breakfast, and once more saun- tered forth upon the street. The month was November, but as ever, in sunny Southern Arizona, the weather was warm and delightful, and it was one of the most enjoy- able seasons of the year. You Bet was located in a wide gulch, through which a small silvery stream wound its way, and there were many bits of adjacent landscape pleasing to the eye of a lover of nature, as was this sport from Shasta. The better part of the forenoon he spent in wandering about the camp, observing what was roing on with his keen, intelligent eyes, and istening to snatches of conversation that passed between citizens, who gathered here and there in groups, to discuss the murder, which all seemed to regard as a profound mystery. So far as the young stranger could ascertain, no one had any theory as to whom the murderer might be. 7 ‘Considerable conjecture also seemed to be afloat as to who would get the major share of Joseph Mora’s wealth, Said one individual: ‘* Kf Mora left a will, thar’s no doubt but what Max an’ Bly will share alike, an’ ther old woman will get a slice, too. But, ef thar’s no will, ther gal won’t stand a smell of a show, fer she ain’t a blood relation. In that case, the old woman will git a equal share wi’ Max, I opine,” ‘**Tt?s my opine,” observed an old miner, ‘‘ that Max’ll git ther mine, anyhow, an’ et’ll be left in sech a way that he can’t sell it. Dunno that it’s any o’ my dorg-meat, but Vd prefer some one else w’u'd git ther Beauty than Max,” ‘* Why?” queried the first speaker. ‘‘ Fer a good reason. Mebbe ye hev fergot that it was Max who sed, one night in ther Lone Deer, when Mike Berry were a-cussin’ at Boss Harkley of Carterville, fer employin’ Chinese ter work in bis mines—et were Max who allowed thet ef he war the owner of amine he should consider et his privelege ter git his hands as cheap as he could, no matter vho or what they were.” ‘Yas. But yer don’t allow he’d hev ther Sian ter fetch any Chinese cusses heer ter You et? ** ’'T wouldn't s’prise me a bit,” ‘An’ why? He surely wouidn’t go back on ther boys as has allus treated him white?” ‘*Ther’s no tellin. Yer can’t allers tell by ther ears of a muel how bard et ken kick. Now yer know Boss Harkley o’ Carterville, can’t neither read ner write!” ‘* What’s that got ter do wi’ You Bet?” ‘Waal, mebbe nuthin’, but, ag’in, mebbe a right peart smart heap.” ‘““Bah! Wer don’t know what ye’r’ talkin’ about,” ‘“VYasIdo. I’ve hearn et hinted, tho’ I never said nothin’ *bout it, thet Max kinder figgened in, an’ helped Harkley ter git them Chinermen ter Carterville. Mebbe ’tain’t so, but I’d jest as lief see some one else git ther Beauty, as Max, an’ don’t yer fergit it.’ ‘‘' Waal, ther’s one thing sart’in—ther’ would be ructions raised ef er pig-tail gerloot war ever ter set foot inter You Bet!” the other assumed grimly. Sunflower Sam had listened to this dialogue with interest. : ‘It would make matters lively if Chinamen were to come,” he mused as he moved hoe During the forenoon he had chats with differ- ent parties, but was unable ¢o elicit any opinion as to the identity of the assassin. Nick Nye, of the Lone Deer, was forced te tell over and over again what little he knew about the tragedy, until he got so tired of it, that he threatened to shoot the next man who bothered him with an inquiry. From all the Man from Shasta could learn, the murderer had withdrawn the knife from the bosom of his victim, and probably had taken it with him. Several times during the forenoon, Sam was tempted to make a call at the Mora residen but on second thought, changed his mind, concluded to give the afflicted family a chance to assuage their first grief over the loss of him ° = - * — - - > —‘w~ ~~ 2! oe ee — > 900I -_— Se Si eet, Bc cathe . —