Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 453 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

- ¥ ’ . a : “% a ' - —s > < ‘ sad eT ee Sy hes ~~ wie , ae i ci ’ = ~! a ; MD : ‘ y Me , ot ‘esha ote “ PRY te / he 3; ‘ . af , : 4.3 / i Pig? . a: i ¥ fa ° ? : ; v. - é : Sony - ‘ ftey ays a ar =. a9 nd ee me _ do not love you, nor have ‘all that, and I appreciate the fact for what it is worth. That’s nothing to do with your being my uncle’s wife, however. My uncle, in his will, distinctly states that you were never mar- ried to him, but washisservant. Had you been his wife, he would most likely have left you the bulk of his fortune, as he did to Queenie, whom he acknowledged as his wife. ‘‘ As matters stand, I cannot see but what the most advisable thing for you to do will be to ck up your things and seek other quarters. ou are hardly the proper person for Bly to associate with, owing to the atmosphere of un- certainty that hangs about you, and—” ‘*Stop!” cried Bly, springing up, and stamp- ing her foot upon the floor, indignation flashing from her eyes. ‘‘ Stop! Max Mora, before you go too far! Pllhave you know youare insulting me, when you insult mamma!” “ Indeed!” ‘Yes, indeed! If you have nothing else to do than come here to make an exhibition of your disagreeable nature, you had better go!” Max laughed sarcastically. ‘¢ Well, [ don’t know about that. ‘sha’n’t hurry myself, in { came here on business, ‘*On business, sir? Then you had better defer ‘it until another time, as neither mamma nor [ have any disposition to transact business so soon after papa’s funeral,” ‘‘The business I have on hand does not par- ticularly concern mammnu, or at least, it is not with her I have to deal, you understand. Yow are the one I have to deal with, and if you will listen, you will find it to your advantage.” **T will not listen to yu, I know what you would say, and I will tell you no, to start with!” Bly cried, impetuously. ‘Are you not a little premature, Miss Bar- ron? True, you have evidently divined the im- port of what I was about to say, but you might at least have given me the opportunity of say- dng it before sealing your verdict, ‘It is true, Bly, that I love you honestly, sin- eerely ani candidly, and want you for my wife. Pm not a bad fellow, if I had some gentle wo- man as a guide—one who would encourage me and help me to seek a higher sphere in life. ape could'do that, Bly, and | want you for my wife! ‘‘ It is simply useless for you to make any such plea, Mr. Mora,” Bly promptly returned, *‘ for I ever given you an reason to suppose that I did. The only one care enough for to marry is Joe Colby—the daborer, as you term him—and, as we are en- gaged, you will at once see that that settles the matter.” ‘I don’t see it in that light. Engagements are as easily broken as they are made, and I cannot see what you can want of a poor man jike Colby. You surely do not want to live a life of poverty and privation. Marry me, and I can give you riches, Marry me, and Queenie Andre shall never touch a penny of my uncle’s wealth, but all the money shall go to you as your wedding-gift. More, I will, by fair-means or foul, establish the fact that Queenie never was my uncle’s wife, but that Margaret here was his wife, and is his widow. Not, of course, that I believe it, for my uncle’s will proves to the contrary. But to win you, Bly Barron, I will do anything that lies in my power.” He spoke earnestly, eloquently, and appeared to mean just what he said. Bly gazed at Mrs, Mora inquiringly, as much as ko say: '«*Shall I do it for your sake?” But the poor woman shook her head sadly. To save her own name from disgrace she could not bring unhappiness to one so young and good I presume I particular. The fact is, ? ‘¢ No—no!” she said, slowly; ‘‘make no such sacrifice on my account. Better always be poor and happy with the one you love, than rich and unhappy. I can bear the dishonor that has been heaped upon me until our friend clears matters up.” “Your friend, eh?’ sneered Max. ‘So that scoundrel, ag oot Sam, has been here stuf- ‘fing Per up, has he?” “That's none of your business, sir!” retorted Bly, quickly. °* My answer to you, Max Mora, is no! So the quicker you go the better.” ‘But, as it happens, my dear, I am not go- ing so quick as you may imagine. You are a bit too hasty in your decision. You do not seem to realize that I am not a man to be trifled with. ‘* Nor do I want you to think for an instant Tam afraid of you!” and Bly’s eyes flashed. “ Tf not afraid, I'll make you feel my power. 1 will discharge that numskull, Joe Colby, and b Nor err . . yee r a . ‘ ‘ > > Sunflower Sam, of Shasta. a a ee ee + ee ee Pll turn you out of house and home, curse you! if you persist in refusing to marry me!” ‘*You cannot turn us out!” cried Bly. ‘I defy you to, you coward! Unless Joseph —, er is a forgery, I own this house, and all that’s in it, **'You do, eh?” ‘Yes, I do, and you’re nothing but a low, mean wretch, to try to make us any more trouble!” ‘fam, eh? Well, I don’t care a cent for that, my dear. Do you refuse—for the last time—to marry me?” fe ng I refuse, for the last time, to marry ou ‘Then let me tell you that, henceforth, I am your enemy, and you shall suffer the conse- quences of my revenge, in order that you may know that [am no fool! Ill give you just five minutes to pack your duds and get out of this house. If you are not gone in that length of time, Pll pitch you out, head-foremost. You hear me?” ‘But we don’t heed you!” Bly cried, un- dauntedly. ‘‘ We hate, loathe and despise you, you contemptible wretch!” Max sprung to his feet with a fearful oath, ‘Take back them words, or I’ll murder you!” he gritted, at the same time clutching Bly by the throat—*‘ take ’em back, I say!” ‘¢ No, she don’t—not while this here bloomin’ Sunflower is around!” cried the Man from Shas- ta, as he leaped from the bed-room and with a tremendous blow knocked young Mora clean off his feet. Then, the sport detective threw open the door, jerked the young villain to his feet, and cried: ‘** Now, you get!” and applying the toe of his boot to Mora’s rear, Sam kicked him into the street, each application of the boot causing the victim to yell with pain. As soon as he was out of doors, Max ran for dear life, and close at his heels followed the Shasta Shadow, | CHAPTER XI. MISS PEGGY PRIM’S ADVENT. THE sight of Max Mora running at full speed, and Sunflower Sam following in close pursuit, soon attracted the attention of what people there were on the street, and, as may be sup- posed, instantly created a sensation. Max aimed direct for the Lone Deer Saloon, and when he reached it, dodged inside with an agility that made the spectators laugh, Sunflower Sam came to a halt, outside the sa- loon, however, a broad smile playing over his handsome face, while a crowd gathered around him, ‘What's the matter? What was ye chasin’ Mora fer?’ were the questions put by a chorus of voices. ‘ ‘Oh! we were having a little foot-race, just for fun!” Sam replied—t anyhow, it was for fun, as far asI was concerned. I guess by the way Mora ran, he thought every minute was his last. You see I caught him trying to choke Bly Barron, and I booted him out of the house, and gave him chase, The next time I catch him at any such beastly game Pll do him in dif- ferent shape!” And with tis declaration, the Man from Shasta pushed his way through the crowd, and made his way to the hotel. ; Nothing more occurred until evening, worthy of mention, As usual, however, in every mining-camp, when the lights were lit for the evening, the ‘ citizens” began to congregate at the saloons and at the gaming parlor, of which we have be- fore made mention. It was a well-fitted up place, with ample space for tables and chairs, and a good bar. There were some good card-players in the camp, and, as a consequence the gaming-room was always well filled. After supper, Sunflower Sam wandered into the place, bent on seeing who was present, and, if convenient, to drop into a game of cards, Luck favored him, and he soon struck up a same for a small limit, with a man from the fast, who, like the detective, wanted to pass away a few hours. Every table was occupied, and every one seemed in good spirits, especially those thirsty goens who were ranged along the bar coun- er. The evening was only partly advanced, when the door opened, and Augustin Andre and Max Mora entered the place together. They took a drink at the bar, and then saun- tered along to the further end or the long xyoom, and took seats at a table, eo ———oO mn eee er er’ree—m—mmu_—|'—'_ ''_/_/ ):9“ oom eS i ae LT i i a hirer “ie g* 4 insulted in this manner? J drink liquor—J a ‘awful glad to see me, once more, it’s so long sence me and he last met!” hoy re . As they passed the table where Sunflower Sam _~ te ’ oot vr ‘ . * s., ; - * “ace , - ss ¢* ee was seated, both glanced at him, and exchanged glances, and smiled, significantly. Sam, without appearing to notice them, did see them however, and that smile also, ‘‘They’ve joined issues,” was his comment ‘‘and if they don’t mean me mischief, l’m off my reckoning. ll be alert, however, and ' my name ain’t Dead— Sunflower Sam, if I PB don’t beat ’em!” +9 About half an hour afterward, the door | opened, and a woman came sweeping into the gaming-room, with the air of a queen. And such a woman, too! Not a man was’ there who did not stop play- ing, to gaze at her, in astonishment. She was an old maid, that was evident, al- though her face would have been rather good- looking and much younger in appearance, if her ‘‘make-up” had been less ancient. Of medium hight, she was attired in a large figured dress, with a sweeping trail, and wore an imitation Paisley shaw] about her shoulders. Upon her head was a bonnet such as was worn a score of years ago, gayly decorated with ro- settes and ribbons, Her hair was worn in long curls, two of which were allowed to occupy conspicuous po- sitions in front :f either ear. Her eyes wero sharp and penetrating, and her mouth hada firm, half-defiant expression, which . coupled with the fact that she carried a whip of rawhide in one hand, suggested the idea that she ' was on the war-path. When fairly in the saloon, she stopped and gazed first at the bar and then at the rows of tables at which dozens of men were engaged in os shuffling or dealing the pasteboards, SA ‘Well! well!” she ejaculated, in a voice of (fu high Le ‘Did you ever! As I live, these wicked men aire playin’ cards! What would a = - Deacon Plum say ef he was to see this sinful ‘a sight!” ; ‘**Hillo! mum, what’s bitin’ ye?’ sung out Skin Platt, the bartender, whom it was bard to find in a bad bumor, yeas —* What’s bitin’ me?’ echoed the strange fe- | male. ‘* Why, sir, nothin’s bitin’ me! Ye orter V" be ashamed o’ yoursel’s, a-settin’ here an’ a- bi ahi playin’ cards, I wouldn’t be afraid to bet a cow there ain’t a solitary meetin’-house ner preacher a in this town.” | ‘* Nary a cne, Mehetible Sarah Ann!” remark- ‘5 ed Skin. ‘‘ This aire ther only place where the nN boys do congregate, an’ there ain’t no preachin’, , but every one is free to cuss as much as he pleases. Occasionally there’s a funeral heer, when some galoot dies wi’ his boots on!” ‘Dies with his boots on!” és Cert’.” ‘The onchristian brute! An’ so this is the sort of a hot-bed of vice, sin and corruption that Gus Andre is livin’ in. For shame! for shame! What ever would Deaccn Plum say!” 1 ‘Say, old hoopskirts, who aire you, anyhow, p tes) | an’ where’d you come from?” 3 ‘*Me? lam Miss Peggy Prim, from Grubville Corners, Connettycut, an’ I am the schoolma’an there for the last five successive summers and winters, ahem!” was the lofty reply. . Ve “Peggy Prim, eh? Waal, yer look prim “a enough, thet’s mighty sartain. So you've teach- a. ed skewl fer five years, hey, an’ learnt ther fe young idea how ter shoot?” ; Ly ‘‘T have, and a smarter schcol there ain’t, out- side of Yale College, if I do say it.” - “Ve don’t say? What ye bin doin’ the other forty year ye wasn’t teachin’ school!” ‘Forty years?’ and Peggy gave the whip a ako vicious crack; ‘forty years? You good-for- nothin’, insultin’ vagabend! Why, I’m only \ twenty-thiee years old, last February! The idea! Forty years!” ‘Oh! well, old gal, that’s all right!” allowed te Skin, keeping an eye on the whip. “I ain’t ry, much good at guessin’, an’ when L come to look square at you you don’t look much more than fe sixteen. Come up and have some benzine!” ow ‘‘Benzine! Goodness gracious! Am TI to be member of Deacon Plum’s congregation, in good at standing? NotI! You ought to be ashamed of fs yourself, you horrid sinner, to propose such a ret! thing to a decent, respectable girl. Dve a great Ah Ne notion to give you a sound whipping for your impertinence.” ‘You'd better not try it on!” Skin declared, ‘‘ef ye don’t want me to shoot thet pagoda off’m our pinnacle. What dye want heer, any- ow? : . ‘“‘Tcame to hunt up Augustin Andre. D’ye © know him? His stuck-up sister'ned would find one him here. He’s my cousin, an’1 know he'll be MT fos