Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 469 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

~ you assassina The Rival Giants of Nowhar. of the gold camp had been ushered in with the rising of that morning’s sun. There was an immediate massing of the oppos- ing factions; on every side belts were drawn tight, and hands dropped instinctively upon pro- truding revolver-butts. For a moment, the rival giants faced each other in dead silence, the eyes of each aflame with seeming hate and anger. Then Gold Gabe spoke, in his deep-toned voice, his superb figure swaying lightly to and fro as if he was upon the point of hurling himself full against the man from Cinnabar, ‘* What do you mean by this meddling inter- ference, Bummer Bob?” he demanded, the lurid glow in his blue eyes deepening. ‘* Who asked ou to thrust your carcass between me and 5 ulian St. Elmo?” “Touch me gently, you mogul of fraud and deceit,” returned the dark giant, the words fall- ing slowly and deliberately from between his hard-set teeth. ‘It is the duty of every honest man, be he large or small, to use every possible effort to prevent bloodshed; and, if he fails and an unprovoked murder is done, it is then his duty to see that justice gets her due—that the dead is avengéd. _ “ And this latter is exactly what I intended todo. On two occasions you have foully mur- dered your men; first, Monterey Merle, whom ted in the dead of night for the sake of a few ounces of gold; pow, under a shal- low subterfuge fetched up to conceal your real motive, you have spilled the blood from the veins of this lifeless lump of clay at our feet. ‘“Such a crime as this last cannot go un- avenged, even in this mountain fastness of the Territory. The law, and the law’s executives, are unknown in the camp of Nowhar; but there is at hand the material out of which to create a tribunal that never fails to mete out due punish- ment to the criminal—a tribunal more to be dreaded by the ruthless breaker of laws human and divine than the most carefully organized court of justice in the land—a tribunal, in a word, whose presiding officer is good Judge Lynch! ‘“You may well quail, Buzzard Bill, for you at last stand face to face with the doom I swore should be yours five long years ago, when on ‘that fatal morning | came upon the cold, rigid ae of Monterey Merle.” hen up from the closely massed followers of Julian St. Elmo arose yells and curses loud.and bitter, accompanied with a restless surging por- tending a wild outbreak. Naught but the set, determined faces and ready weapons of the blonde giant’s stanch friends held the worse ele- ment in check. No trace of fear was to be seen in the face of the alealde. On the COLErSty, a peculiar smile parted his full red lips, and his voice grew sin- gularly soft and purring as he spoke: “Upon my word! you do it well, Bob!” he exclaimed, ‘‘A vast improvement marks the ebbing of your life’s sands, One hearing your tongue wag inight well believe that a Member of Con ae ne a all ated bey justice his one and only ho suddenly flo down into our humble akice y eRe “And yet your tragicall is like a house built upon the shifting sands—it amounts to nothing, from the simple fact that its foundation is technically insecure. ‘There may have been such a person as this Monterey Merle, and he may have been mur- dered; or the entire story may be but a freak of your imagination. Our only proof of such a murder is your word, and, so far as we know, your reputation for veracity is not worth an ounce of uncrushed quartz. eloquent slop-over __$* Ag for the dainty sport here, he is no more dead than either you or I, unless he has died of sheer fright. Not a dropof his blood has been spilled—not so much as a hair of his head harmed. “ Had I sent my bullet crashing through his brain, instead of hurtling harmlessly through the air, not a man in all the camp would have declared the act murder when the whole truth had been laid bare; for full and just provoca- tion existed—provocation so pe, See even a tribunal of your idolized Judge Lynch would have held the killing as nothing more than a vindication of the very laws you regard so highly.” And then, to the apparently unutterable dis- gust of Shasta Sam, Julian St. Elmo slowly arose, ‘Look for yourself, Bummer Bob!” cried the alcalde, mockingly. ‘Have I told the truth, or has the dead risen?” And, as the unnerved gambler moved away crestfallen, furtively eying the now jeering crowd, the giant of the golden locks darted a quick glance into the face of his rival—then: ‘* Halt! Julian St. Elmo. Not another step, or by the heavens above us! you shall die like eet coward you are, with your back to a oe The ringing tones and words of the alcalde brought the gambler to bay; the second time within the hour Julian St, Elmo abruptly halt- ed, his aspect one of uncontrollable fear. Then, directly contrary to the expectations of the crowd, Shasta Sam, with a mocking bow, pi aside, allowing the giant of the golden "se! s to stride unmolested toward his unnerved oe, What passed between the two men was spok- en in tones so low as not to be overheard, al- though there was eager listening. At the expiration of five minutes the alcalde turned away from the gambler and walked over to the mock Yankee, with whom he ex- changed a few words, then hastened across the plateau to the path leading down into the valley. Left to himself, Julian St. Elmo skulked quickly out of sight around the curve of the horseshoe. P A fearful glance over his shoulder discovered no pursuit, nor to his strained hearing came the slightest sound which would indicate that he was being followed. That the gambler was perfectly familiar with the ground he was traversing was obvious. Not the ary hesitancy marked his move- ments as he left the level of the plateau and be- gan a toilsome ascent of the mountain. On- ward and upward, slowly and laboriously, he clambered, bending his course to the south- ward, until at the end of an hour he stood upon a pe ledge overlooking the gold-camp far ow, ‘** Accursed spot!’ he muttered, through his set teet, staring down, with a mad glow in his blue eyes, at the distant collection of rude habi- tations. ‘‘ Never more shall I dare set foot within your bounds, for from this hour forth I am a hunted man! ‘*There, in your narrow limits, I felt that I was almost safe—that the sleuth-hounds seeking my trail were forever at fault. Fool! fool that I was to delude myself, to remain and tempt in- exorable fate! ‘With all my shrewdness, all my cunning, I have been fairly outmatched. From the advent of Ronald Morton, in the guise of Gold Gabe, until that moment when he faced me there on the plateau, with death in his mad eyes, I never suspected that the avenger was present in No- whar. In that moment I realized the truth, though five years had wrought their changes in his appearance. ‘*Five years! Years of constant flight, of un- ceasing dread; years in which men have paid tribute to my bravery, even while I af- frighted at my own shadow, while my heart quaked and stood still with fear! ‘‘T grew to fear and hate the giant as I never feared or hated man before; and yet, unheeding fate’s unerring warning, | wondered at that fear and hatred, while IL felt that we would be foes ever and always. ‘* Hired assassins have attempted his life, only to fail, one by one. Had I even dreamed the truth, his death would have been swift and sure, for with my own hand I would have slain him. ‘Yet, during all the weeks in which we were thrown together, it did not occur to me that he was Ronald Morton, nor did he more than sus- pect until that terrible moment upon the plateau that he had at last found the man so long searched for. Then I could see that I had been tricked—could see by the red glow in his eyes that he at least partially realized the truth, and rather than again encounter him, I have taken to the wilds like a hunted beast. ‘‘Curses upon the spot! Curses on all who linger there; be they friends or foes. Had | the power, now, in the bitterness of my humili- ation and defeat, I would crush them all as I would crush a creeping, obnoxious spider. ‘“‘ Ha! those dark specks moving through the camp are men gathering at the office of the Yellow Boy Mine. They are called together, no doubt, by Ronald Morton, to be sent over the hills and through the canyons in search of the Missing gir], ‘‘ She is in my power, and never again shall the eyes of the avenging giant look upon her loving face. Crushed, defeated, driven at bay like a hunted hound though Iam, yet shall I deal ick blow for blow. Were the giant dead, and the events of this day blotted out, I would lay siege to the heart of the girl and win her for my wife, for since 13 that ill-starred day five Phy ago, her face has: haunted me, sleeping and waking. She is beau- tiful as an houri, and rich, Again could I tace the world, and bid defiance to that dread Nem-- esis, retribution.” Staring down the mountain-side, his eyes. glowing with a deadly light, his voice, accentu-- ated with bitterness, rising and falling fitfully, his aspect that of one with ‘‘a mind diseased,” Julian St. Elmo stood until he had ended his. soliloquy, then started back from the verge of the narrow ledge, a look of horror spreading over his pallid face, ‘Why not?’ he exclaimed aloud. ‘‘ Why noté Curse them! would they not crush me ?” Then horror and hesitancy vanished, giving: place to fiendish delight and deliberate action. Hastening from the ledge, the gambler re-- sumed his way up the mountain, ascending with. rapidity and feverish strength invoked from his newly-formed purpose of evil. Up the steep he toiled, never pausing, his eyes: alert for the vantage point sought, the breath leaving his parched throat in short, sharp Baps, telling with voiceless eloquence of the terrible strain upon his endurance. Upward, until the coveted point was gained, when a harsh, ner laugh, escaping bis bleed-. ing lips, jarred weirdly on the brooding silence. They are doomed!” he cried shrilly, halting beside a great bowlder overhanging the edge of a terrace, and pene down at the just discern-~- ible gold.camp. ‘* Their fate is in my hands! My humiliation shall be avenged! ne stout. push, and this monster stone will go thundering downward, with each mighty bound starting others in its train, and ey others, until a resist-- less avalanche hurls itself upon the camp of Nowhar and blots it and all within it from ex-- istence, ‘Weeks ago, when I discovered this hanging rock and waraed them of its constant menace: to the camp, they laughed and jeered at the idea of an avalanche. Now, when it is too late, they shall recall my words, and lament with shrieks and groans and curses!” Again his elfish laugh rung out. With a swift bound, he threw himself behind the bowlder, eager to put in execution his devilish design. In his madness, he seemed vested with the strength of three ordinary men. A_hard-. drawn breath, a powerful ites and over the edge of the terrace toppled the great rock,, crashing downward on its mission of death, True to his expectations, a constantly swelling volume of debris swept downward in the wake of the thundering bowlder, the noise of its pas- sage increasing In a moment from the sharp rattle of a few rolling stones to the dull roar of a mighty avalanche. ‘ Hal! ha! It is done! They are doomed men!” he shrieked, bis voice rising high above the din, his blue eyes glittering with a strange, unnatural light, as he swung his arms vio- lently to and fro. ‘* Not a vestige of the camp will remain—not a man escape he avalanche of death to hound me down! No! no! buried beneath tons of rock and earth, all will lie still. and voiceless till the crack of doom! I am safe! safe at last! Never more need Jason Dyke, the. gambler and murderer, stand in dread of the- allows! ‘‘But why do I stand here? Away to the: cavern and the girl; then farewell forever to this accursed spot!” Turning abruptly, he strode away, shaping: bis course to the southward along the mountain-- side. For fully an hour, never once pausing to look: back, he sped along as rapidly as the rugged nature of his pathway would permit, his brow knit in thought. At the expiration of that time, he halted upon the verge of an apparently bot- tomless canyon. After a sweeping glance around, to assure himself that he was not watched, he gave three short, sharp whistles, then threw himself flat on the earth. — A moment later, Ugly Mike, the chief of the Cripples, suddenly appeared, stepping out from the face of an apparently solid bluff a short dis- tance up the canyon. St. Elmo raised his head, and beckoned him to. approach, , he desperado glided forward. ‘Wot on airth be yer doin’ up hyar, Jule St. Elmo?’ he exclaimed, in surprise. ‘*T came up to see how affairs were progress- ing,” craftily replied the gambler You: worked the trick with the gir], Mike?” ‘* We caged her, slick an’ clean,” and the ruf-- fian sunk lazily to the ground. ** How’d ther duel kem out?” ' ‘¢ Dunkle was killed.” The reply was given at random, for whether; COMMIS) / com . cS * J seis _ A+. 7 ~ .