Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 469 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

4 But the impending triangular conflict was not to occur, Jonathan Trotter and his fellow tramp, scarcely missed by any of the excited throng so brief had b2en their absence, suddenly appeared at the door, bearing between them a writhing, twisting, bleeding form. ‘* Hooray!” yelled Jeems Rivers, in delight, as the mountain tramps gently deposited their burden on the rough floor, ‘* Boyees, King (‘abe war kerect! Thar’s ther galoot he seen— whiskers, slouch hat, an’ winged in ther leg, too,” A sound akin to a malediction escaped Julian St. Elmo, ‘‘ A truce, alcalde,” he muttered, lowering his weapon, ‘* A truce be it,” assented Gold Gabe. ‘*Capting, I calclate we hev fetched yeour man,” complacently announced the Yankee, his voice husky, apparently from his recent exer- tions, ‘‘ Jest hold on to that leetle five thou- sand bag o’ dust till Hunki Hans an’ me call fer it. Guess these card sharps ’u’d skin us putty uick—lI’ve hearn tell as how they was gosh- arned slip’ry cusses,” A quick, impatient nod, and the alcalde bent over the wounded man. A sojourn of half a year in the gold-camp had rendered the giant familiar with the faces of the remaining members of the original few who had pitched their tents on Nowhar’s site. This man was one of the number, ‘* Jabez Fourche, what have you to say for ‘ yourself?’ demanded the alcalde, his face grow- ng cold and stern as he gazed steadfastly into the eyes of the luckless wretch who had at- temp to take his life. ‘‘ Let your tongue move glibly and truthfully, or Pll take care that Nowhar plants you to-morrow, as well as ‘the, victim of your cowardly shot. Speak! / Who put up this job against me?” _ The blande giant’s hand was upon his revol- ‘yer; a deadly light shone in his big blue eyes, ' A few paces distant, his arms carelessly fold- j ed, stood Julian St. Elmo, smiling cynically. At Gold Gabe’s terse inquiry, Jabez Fourche’s glance shifted uneasily to the gambler’s face, . and thence to the two mountain tramps. ‘*Thet berderned windin’-blades an’ his ball ov soap-fat hev laid me out,” he muttered, glaring savagely at Trotter and Hunki Hans. ‘Ef they hadn’t ’a’ pounced on ter me ther minute I , tumbled over ’ith thet bullet in my laig, I c’u’d ‘2a’ crawled off inter ther bresh, hurt es I war; but they touched me up ‘ith a gag an’ repes, an’ ‘snaked me off in ther dark. Drat ’em! sech , trash hev no biz’ness in ther hills! ‘* Alcalde,” he went on, his eyes turning back | to meet the steadfast, piercing gaze of the giant, iT don’t why I sh’u’d stay by them as won’t lift a finger ter help me w’en [I’m down thro’ . a a ter do their dirty work. They say ye’re white, an’ p’rhaps I'd better chaince it ith you. ‘*Ther bullet wot dropped ther big galoot war intended fer you. Ther hull thipg war a set-up job, an’ ther man at ther bottom ov it war— A revolver cracked spitefully, and a strange tremor ran through Fourche’s frame; his jaw | dropped, his eyes assumed a glassy, staring as- spect, and over his grimy features crept a | Strange rigidity. The hiatus in his words would never be filled. He was dead. Uttering a sharp, fierce cry, the baffled Kin .of Nowhar whipped out his revolvers, an sprung to his feet. f ———_——— — Neen een Enea CHAPTER ITI, | AT A ROPE’S END, *‘ A garponic laugh rippled lightly from the , full red lips of Julian St. Elmo, , ** Alcalde, you are playing in hard luck!” he ; exclaimed, in mock sympathy. _ The blonde giant vouchsafed no immediate | response, His face was white and drawn, and 1 in the intensity of his passion his big steel-blue eves gleamed like redly smoldering coals as he cast about him a steady, sweeping glance in , search of the author of that dastardly shot. He ‘Was in a dangerous mood, anda man with a thought less of daring, of reckless bravado, than Julian St. Elmo would have held bis peace. Behind the gambler, a trifle to his left, a pol- ished ‘‘six” at full cock th each hand, stood izzled Jeems Rivers. Not a motion of the Paadacine sport, however slight, escaped his wary eye. Between the alcalde and the door was a a of a dozen men—strong, rugged fellows a ast ‘| a square “ - Z The Rival Giants of N owhar, stout adherents of the blonde giant. Facing them, at an equal distance beyond the alcalde, were a score of Nowhar’s gamblers, roughs and at ers at a desperate battle for the supremacy was imminent between these two factions of the old-camp none present could doubt, and those identified with neither party discreetly retired, ranging themselves along the bar and the wall opposite. ‘*T reckon it’s no use ter look, King Gabe— ther shot kem from among thet pack ov bums back thar, an’ yer can depend they’ll keep dark who did it,” observed Rivers, slowly. ‘*Tt was more ov St. Elmo’s devilish work,” muttered the giant, in a voice scarcely audible. ‘“* Time will tell; and when our leetle reckoning does he will find it against him.” ‘** Jest say ther word, alcalde, an’ I'll pump the cotk-eyed coyote full ov lead!” said Rivers, glaring fiercely at the nouchalant gambler, his ngers playing lightly on the triggers of his weapons. ‘‘And glide gently over the range for your pains !’ retorted Julian St, Elmo, smiling ma- iciously. ‘‘Slow and easy, my genial Jzems; don’t identify yourself too closely with this overgrown, murderous boaster; Gold Gabe, alias Buzzard Bill—it mightn’t be exactly healthy, you know.” ** Have a care, St. Elmo!” gritted the alcalde, turning menacingly upon the gambler, the blood suddenly surging back into his face. ‘** Gentlemen!” cried the handsome sport, step- ping back a pace, and deigning the blonde giant not so much as a glance. ‘‘Gentlemen, you know that Iam a knight of the green cloth—a omeret and, that, like all others of my class, am looked down upon by the majority of the people with whom t come in contact. But I think you will agree with me that I have played ame in Nowhar, whether the tools were pistols or cards. Gambler though I am, I one myself on the side of law and order, every ime. ‘*To-night, within half an hour, you have seen two men shot to death; the first, the giant stranger, by Jabez Fourche, at the instigation of some party or parties unknown; the second, Fourche himself, while confessing to the so- called King of Nowhar who were his accom- plices in the murder of Shasta Sam. ‘* Because of some om grudge he holds against me, this Gold Gabe, alias Buzzard Bill, charged with the murder of Monterey Merle in one of the mining-camps of Stanislans, has seen fit to accuse me of being an accessory in both of the trugedies of to-night. “Gentlemen, with almost his last breath Jabez Fourche declared that the bullet killing Shasta Sam was intended for this other moun- tain cf flesh, Gold Gabe—-a statement that 1 be- lieve utterly unworthy of credence. ‘*But I do believe that both Jabez Fourche and myself were the victims of as diabolical a plot as ever human brain evolved. ‘* To settle all doubt in my own mind, and to convince you that I am not guilty of the crime laid to me, I am going to point put the murder- er of Jabez Fourche, and then wring from him a full and free confession of the details of i ia plot, or scatter his brains to the four winds, “ty There he stands—you know him as Truthful And Julian St. Elmo flung out his right hand elevating a revolver at full cock at the head o a squat, heavily-built ruffian in the midst of the crowd of roughs, ‘* Yes, it was Truthful Joe, as great a rascal as ever cursed a gold-camp, and there he is,” stern- ly reiterated the gambler. ‘I saw the revolver h in his hand.” A buzz of excitement went up from each of the two factions, The giant of the golden locks stood astounded ; then a grim smile played fitfully around the cor- ners of his mouth. ‘* Step out here, veracious Joseph, and be lively about it, or I'll accelerate your laggard movements with a bullet or two,” continued St. Elmo, his blue eyes gleaming coldly. ‘‘ For once since we have met I am anxious to hear the music of yours voice,” An expression akin to terror crept into the beady black eyes ef the squat, misshapen ruffian; his swarthy face like one palsy ward, ‘* Alcalde, for once assert the authority you ) and disarm the wretch,” said the gambler, with an ill-concealed sneer. ‘‘If I am not mistaken, you will find one chamber of his revolver empty.”’s . | cken as he shambled for- ew livid, and he trembled Flashing a look of deadly malignity at the handsome sport, King Gabe mechanically com- plied with the pointed request. Truthful Joe offered no resistance; he trem- bled yet more violently. and seemed on the verge of sinking to the floor when the alcalde = et ia that the gambler’s assertion was cor- rect. Julian St. Elmo smiled coldly. ‘* That will do, King Gabe—you may pass,” he uttered. ‘‘The game is now between this mur- derous wretch and myself, and he has got to show his hand. No matter who his allies ma be, he is going to ‘ peach’ the whole thing or die without a minute’s warning.” ‘‘An’ ef I peach—w’ot. then?” demanded Truthful Joe, in quavering accents, ‘Tell you better afterward,” tersely replied St. Elmo, his gleaming eyes fixed in a steady, aaa gaze on the face of the squat ruf- an. ‘¢ See thet ’'m not sarved like Fourche war— thet I git a fair chaince fex,my white alley w’en I'm done, an’ I'll talk,” sai slow, hesitating bie ‘*Go on—you shall have a square deal,” de- clared the gambler. ‘*'Wal, yer all knows thet I hev bin prospect- in’ on grub-stake fer sum days ’mong ther bills on ther Elk City trail,” began the ruffian, am... - profound silence. ‘*‘’Bout noon yistiddy, thet tall pilgrim, Shasta Sam, rounded up et m lay-out, an’ we drifted onter a talk bout this hyar camp, an’ he axed a heap ov questions bout old Gabe hyar. ‘*T hain’t so smart ez I mou’t be, mebbe, but I e’u’dn’t help seein’ through a knot-hole big ez my hat. I knowed in a minute thet ther ber- derned big cuss war no fr’end ov ther alcalde, ruthful Joe, in a a mee an’ as soon es he putt out fer Nowhar, I lit ther — same way, takin’ a short cut ’cross ther hills so’s ter beat ’im in a good six hour. ‘Et war King Gabe as hed grub-staked me, an’ I war p’utty sart’in thet he ’u’d kim down with ther dust ef I putt him onter ther big pil- grim’s lay. ‘* Kt war jest noon w’en I struck Nowhar, an’ I hoofed it straight ter ther-Yaller Boy, ther alcalde’s mine. ar I fouud ’im, all alone in ther leetle office at ther jaws ov ther drift, an’ _ let ’im in on wo’t I hed diskivered. ‘*T seen in a minute thet I hed struck pay- dirt, fer w’ot I hed sed putt ther alcalde inter hot water. He walked up an’ down a few times, then stopped short an’ asked me ef_ I wanted ter make a clean thousand dollars, ‘An’ I war jist fool enuff ter tell him I did, W’en a feller like me gits down on his luck, he” ‘hain’t very pertic’ler how a raise are made, jist so he makes et, yer know. Ther alcalde went ,on ter say he wanted a feller bout my size ter *tend ter sech leetle matters es ther one in hand, an’ thet he w’u’d make et wu’th while fcr me ter do things up in shipshape. ‘‘ Arter more palaver, he kem down ter biz- ness. W’at he wanted done war this: Thar war two fellers in camp, besides ther big pilgrim on ther road, w’at he held a grudge ag’in’—you, St. Elmo an’ Jabez Fourche. I war ter lay fer Shasta Sam an’ steer im ter ther Fair Play ter find Gold Gabe; Fourehe war ter lay outside, an’ at ther proper time put a bullet in’ ther dark iant—he thinkin’ et war you puttin’ up ther job, fer I war ter tell *im thet, so thet ef any- thing went bene. an’ he war caught, ther al- calde w’u’dn’t git his fcot in et. He war ter say, too, ef caught, thet he war layin’ fer Gold Gabe, an’ war paid by you fer doin’ et, an’ thet tber shootin’ ov Shasta Sam war an acci ent, ‘* He allowed et war a putty good plan, an? - thet yer an’ ther rest ov ther boyees w’u’d pull ‘im through. He didn’t know thet et war a put- up job betwixt ther alcalde an’ me ter wing ’im es soon es he hed settled Shasta Sam. Fact war, he never even s’pishuned King Gabe hed any- thing ter do with ther matter—ther pore cuss thought you war a-doin’ et. ‘Ther alcalde kalkilated thet Fourche’s yarn w’u’d jest about settle yer in this byar camp, an’ at ther best yer ’u’d hev ter amble on ter some other man’s town. An’ et did seem fer awhile thet ther plot war age ter work most booti- fully, fer lordy! how ther alcalde did pile on ther agony! : ‘¢ But w’en et kem ter ther scratch, I seen from Fourche’s eyes thet I war a goner ef he went ahead, so Liet im hev et. You seen ther trick worked, an’ brought me ter taw, ‘Thar yer hev ther hull thing b’iled down, Ther alcalde war ther galoot w’at set up ther job, an’ I reckon he are ther one yer want ter — tackle, not me.” — | Slowly and with hesitancy at first, but in- ST | ~ GOMIIGEDOOKS 7 we te » EE ewe €O : adel lr teem wo ~~.) ae