Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 469 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

2 ey . —— _ hammers of which were half raised by the pres- sure of his long forefingers on the triggers, as he glared fiercely at the motley group at the bar and on beyond at the throng surrounding the gaming-tables, His full, deep tones rung through the long room with startling suddenness, drawing more than mere cursory glances from its inmates, ac- customed to that particular style of rodomontade as they were. And Shasta Sam, of Cinnabar, as the new- comer had introduced himself, was truly worthy of more than a passing glance. In hight and build a giant, yet an ideal of grace and symmetry, with a kingly head, dark, finely- molded face adorned by drooping jetty mus- taches, large and keen black eyes, he would have attracted attention anywhere and under any circumstances, His garb was of purple velvet of the finest tex- ture; his linen immaculate; his weapons of the latest and best pattern, heavily plated with gold. He looked every inch the dashing, reckless sport from the crown of his jauntily worn silk hat to the soles of his glossy patent-leather boots. There was an insolent, taunting ring in his deep, powerful tones that seemed to challenge each individual Nowharite within hearing to dispute his right to the title he had just as- sumed, A full score of hands leaped to ever-ready weapons; half a hundred paurs of eyes stared straight at the vaunting sport. ‘* Heur me, pilgrims,” he repeated, returning look for look with savage interest; ‘‘ I, Shasta Sam, ov Cinnabar, pr claim myself King ov Nowhar! You ov th’ common herd must crawl where I walk!” Mechanically, almost every eye turned from the boastful giant to the central figure amid the group at the bar, a personage of striking p/iy- sique. The exact counterpart of Shasta Sam_in hight, build and feature, he was a perfect blonde, with eyes of sparkling blue, a long, curling hair and mustaches of a bright golden color. In dress, too, there was a remarkable resemblance, the only difference being that while the self- styled King of Nowhar was clad in purple this iman was garbed in biack velvet. A mocking laugh, irritating in its peculiar so(tness, followed swift upon the giant sport’s loud words, and the Hercules of the golden locks, set- ting down his glass of beaded liquor untasted, dropped his broad white palms upon the revol- ver butts protruding from his belt and strode directly toward the man from Cinnabar. ‘‘ An exalted perch, truly; is this upen which you propose to reost, gentle Shanghai!” he ex- claimed, in smooth, unruffled tones, halting with- in three paces of Shasta Sam, while the mocking smile deepened on his full'Ted lips. ‘‘ We galoots ov Nowhar are a generous set, and I doubt not thatif youvremove th’ single obstacle in your way and read your title clear th’ sportive sports at my back will bow th’ knee and acknowledge you their most high and mighty. sovereign; yea, will even prostrate themselves in th’ dust that lordly King Shanghai may not soil his dainty hoofs in ascending his coveted roost. ** But, my long-drawn-out friend, first remove th’ obstacle, and prove your right to th’ royal perch, or th’ aforesaid gents ov Nowhar may take it into their fun-loving heads to reverse your order ov things and p’sonify even thy lordly form. i in other words, as th’ cultured Bostonian probably wouldn’t say, they may climb gently up yor frame and amble gracefully on your neck, ‘You see, Shanghai, th’ obstacle in your way is simply this, and nothing more: Nowhar has a king; that king is th’ alealde; th? alcalde is Gold Gabe; and—I blush from sheer modesty to say it—I am Gold Gabe. ‘And I haven’t abdicated as yet in favor of anybody, nor have I th’ remotest idea of so- doing. If you are really and truly pining to be Ya ty monarch, I would advise you, as a _ friend and a brother, amble on to some other man’s town, . ea x a live orig 2 but she mai enough to hold two such men as you an Shans hai” = 3 g jeeringly, in mock-heroic accen the words had fallen from the full red lips of the de giant, visibly goading Shasta Sam olden- Fimoss to madness, Yet, carelessly as he had spoken, those who stood near enough fancied they could detect in the depths of Gold Gabe’s _ brilliant blue eyes a lurid gleam of jealousy. The dark Hercules moved slightly forward as the contemptuous, mocking tones of the ‘‘alcalde” ceased, his black eyes glowing with rage, The Rival Giants of Nowha — ~~ lhl the hammers of his gold-mounted revolvers moving ominously back and forth under the varying pressure of the long white fingers on the triggers. ‘* So you are Gold Gabe, King of Nowhar, are you?” he grated, his burning eyes never waver- ing in their hateful stare. “‘T have once so stated, Shanghai,” softly uttered Nowhar’s alealde. ‘lf my word is not enough, perhaps some of the gentlemen behind me can bear me out in what I have said.” The * gentlemen” in question, as rough a set as any other mining-camp in all Idaho could boast, perhaps, had discreetly betaken them- selves to one side of the long room, out of range of any stray “outcroppings” of lead, They were posted in some of the alcalde’s little pecu- liarities—knew that when his voice was at its softest his anger was deadliest,. ‘*T reckon thar’s no need ov any of th’ galoots to chip into our little game,” slowly enunciated the man from Cinnabar. ‘If you say you are King oy Nowhar, it simply brings you to th’ scratch, that is all.” Again that mocking, insulting laugh rippled from the alcalde’s lips. The red light in the black eyes of the dark Hercules deepened; but he went on, steadily: ‘‘It brings you to the scratch, that isall. I have sought and found you, you monumental fraud. Th’ name and fame ov Gold Gabe, King ov Nowhar, have spread far and wide through th’ hills. A mountain mogul you have grown to be from th’ mean coyote ov a sneak thief and card sharp th’ camps ov th’ Stanislaus once knew, to their sorrow, Buzzard Bill.” The thrust seemed to tell, for the alcalde, covered as he was by the muzzles of the two revolvers, crouched as if to spring forward and fasten his fingers upon the throat of the man from Cinnabar. ‘**Squirm, ye carrion-reekin’ vulture!” uttered Shasta Sam, a grim smile breaking the sternness of his face for a brief, fleeting second. ‘‘ Squirm but don’t you move so much as a finger in th’ way ov drawin’ a weapon, for I hold th’ drop on you ina way you ought to despise, and I tell you [ won’t hesitate a half minute in sendin’ you to meet th’ wees master you ever really served, th’ old boy ov fire and brimstone fame.” ‘*Squirm nothin’!” retorted the giant of the golden locks, grasping fiercely the butts of the revolvers he dared not attempt todraw. ‘‘ When Gold Gabe backs water for rant and blow and bluster from such an overgrown chunk ov human cussedness as you, Shanghai, Nowhar’ll huve need ov a new alcalde, for I cwear [d hang my- self to th’ nearest tree.” ‘*if th’ blind critter known as Justice over gets her dues, you'll disfigure th’ landscape in just that way, on’y good Judge Lynch will have a finger in the pie,” said the man from Cinnabar, calmly. Gold Gabe laughed—a grim, sardonic laugh, utterly devoid of mirth. Those who knew the alcalde best fancied the dark Hercules’s words had struck home, “A nice critter, you, to talk ov Judge Lynch,” sneered Gold Gabe. ‘* Why, you black- nozzled shark, your face alone’would be enough to convict you ov half th’ crimes in th’ deca- logue before any honest jury th’ country can scare up. You caught th? drop on me in th’ meanest kind ov a sneakin’ way, too, and, on: less you’ve experienc:d th’ biggest kind ova change ov heart since we last met on th’ Stanis- laus, [ reckon you’re mighty apt to use your advantage, You see I know you, you ongainly aloot: down thar you were ’way-down Bummer ob, too lazy and shiftless to wash, too coward- lv to gather toll on th’ highway. But lo! th’ filth and rags have vanished! How art th’ low- ly risen! Whose blood paid for th’ agony you're pilin’ on, Bummer Bob?” As the jeering words burst forth, the bronzed face of Shasta Sam grew dark and lowering; his blazing eyes flashed fitfully; the slowly-mov- mg hammers of his ready revolvers leaped back until they were almost upon a poise, requiring but a hair’s weight against the triggers to hurl the soul of the blonde giant into eternity. Staring st aight into the owing orbs of the man from Cinnabar, Gold Gabe again uttered that soft, insolent, irritating laugh, courting death swift and sure, A low murmur broke from the roughs and toughs, miners, sports and speculators grouped at the side of the long room. The alcalde’s ‘sand ” had grown into a proverb in the camp of Nowhar; but just now the magistratic giant seemed bent upon eclipsing his previous record at the hazard of his life, ao And there were men there who, secretly or openly inimical to the alcalde, waited with r’. ee EE a x a a a * ——— ee — EE ns em ——« ss — —_—_~ bated breath for the outcome of the strange broil, exultant in the belief that Gold Gabe had at last met a Roman fully as noble as himself. Slightly apart from his fellows, with his arms folded carelessly across his broad chest, a polish- ed revolver gleaming in each hand, é cold smile on his immobile face, and a strange glitter in his big blue eyes, stood the Apollo-like proprietor of the Fair Play, Julian St. Elmo, Between this handsome sport and Gold Gabe there was anything but love. It was, therefore, With deep interest that he watctied the two giants, knowing full well that the controversy must have a tragic ending, and that the alcalde would doubtless end his days then and there, ‘* Don’t stack it on too *high—don’t crowd me too hard,” warned Shasta Sam, in tones of sup-. « pressed fury, as King Gabe’s mocking laugh died away. ‘‘Every man has his faults, his ups and downs, in this world, J have, and have. had, mine, and I reckon you could say as much, if you were honest enough, Just now, youre away up at th’ top-notch; but you’re comin’ down, and when I’m done with you thar’ll | be a new king in Nowhar, > ‘*Down on the Stanislaus, when night was at q its blackest, you, Buzzard Bill, cowardly, thiev- in’ coyote that you are, murdered my pard, } Monterey Merle—as white a man as ever set hoof in th’ mines—for th’ sake ov a few ounces ov yellow dust! I swore I'd find you, and that oath has made aman ov me. It’s taken me five long years to hunt you down; but I’ve got you hard and fast this time, for you poked your fool head straight into th’ jaws ov t ’ trap I set for you when I entered this place. ‘“ What have you got to say for yourself, you cowardly assassin?” “That it is a lie—simply and purely a lie— hatched by you, you overgrown loafer!” hotly returned the alcalde, gnawing savagely at his nether lip. It’sa cock-and-bull story for which you can’t produce a word ov proof, — ** Hold. right thar!” tersely interrupted Shasta - Sam. ‘‘I happen to have th’ dyin’ statement ov Monterey bert th’ man you stabbed in’ th’ back, then robbed, and I reckon that’s proof, fast enough. If it’s not, then th’ galoots ov No- whar must be common hogs.” ' The alealde, starting slightly, remained silent, gazing on beyond the man from Cinnabar into the darkness without the open door, a strange, half-puzzled, .half-expectant expression on his face, ! Thrown off bis guard, apparently, Shasta Sam _ allowed the muzzles of bis revolvers to sink, and cast a swift look over his shoulder. In that brief instant, ere a sharp cry from Julian St. Elmo could warn the dark Hercules of his peril, Gold Gabe whipped a revolver from his belt, flung his hand straight out, and fired! ni report stung through the room with strange force, ttering a low groan, Shasta Sam dropped his weapons, staggered forward, and fell im an inert heap on the floor, the blood trickling in a any stream from a bullet-hole in his head. nstantly all was confusion. CHAPTER II. AN ASSASSIN’S SHOT *- For a single instant after the report of his trusty revolver had died away Gold Gabe stood like a bronze statue, every sinew in his superb form drawn to its utmost tension, bis handsome face a gray, ashy hue, his steel-blue eyes dilated with horror. . Straight out the open door he stared, his brawny arm extended, his hard white hand | clasping with almost despairing fierceness the — gold butt of his heavy revolver, up from the deadly muzzle of which still curled a wreath of - pale bluish smoke. — , Then, above the almost infernal din that broke forth, arose the voice of Julian St. Elmo, cold, clear and ringing: ‘Gentlemen, it was murder—the desperate act of a cowardly assassin brought to bay. Al- calde though he is, he must not escape Just and speedy punishment. The reputation of Nowhar is at stake, as well as that of my establish- ment!” There was a ring of exultation in the tones of the handsome sport that passed undetected by all save Gold Gabe himself. Reluctantly tearing bis gaze from the fateful doorway, through which he longed to dash, but dared not, the blonde giant allowed his burning | eyes to dwell one brief instant on the prostrate, bleeding form of the dark Hercules, while some. thing wondrously like a deep sob seemed almost to rend his massive chest; then, with tempestuous fury, swaying and quivering im his passion like a storm-blown oak, he wheeled and faced Julian — : aI | ee e< a > J . ie ie z J . ae - -T? ~~ (@) (E(@)