Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 469 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

—» as won,” he observed, easily. —— “¢ Tl] jest go yeou a leetle stake o’ a thousand thet 1 win choice o’ posish—th’ alcalde to hold stakes. Are yeou game?” ‘* At this rate you won’t leave much for your heirs to quarrel over!” sneered St. Elmo, ‘ Put up your money—anything from one to five thousand,” **T reckon a thousand is enough,” calmly re- sponded the mock Yankee. “If I lose clear through, there'll be enough left to grub-stake some budding Blackstone. My dust is in the alcalde’s hands,” Covering the last bet, the gambler stepped back a pace and raised his right hand, reveal- ing the silver: coin between his thumb and fore- finger. ‘‘Now, Yank, for the last time—heads or tails?” he cried sharply, as the coin spun swiftly upward, ‘* Heads!” called Trotter, as the now descend- ing coin struck the earth. ‘Heads it is!” announced a dozen voices, as the excited miners clustered around the silver coin. With just a trace of annoyance oe in ‘the action, St. Elmo daintily twirled his tawny mustache. “ My dear alcalde, I see your skeleton friend ‘‘ Just turn the thousand into his hands.” ‘* Not jest yet, King Gabe,” spoke up Trotter, erisply. ‘*I don’t like th’ installment plan— jest wait till th’ performance is over; then Ill take th’ entire pot.” Gold Gabe nodded assent. ‘‘ Having won th’ choice o’ positions, I select ‘th’ south eend o’ the hoss-shoe,” continued the pseudo- Yankee, coolly. ‘‘ Alcalde, will you go down with me an’ let me into the pints o’ th’ leetle brigazee? Yaas?-I thought yeou w’u'd. ‘Say, yeou—St. Elmo! trot th’ deformed critter ‘round to his post, am’ take’im through his ‘Now I lay me,’ etc, Yeou might send a squad down to sum nice sunny spot in the val- Jey to fix up his final two-by-five resting-place; it'll save time fer the mourners by and by, ** An’ yeou, Bummer Bob, o’ th’ Stanislaus ”— wheeling abruptly upon Shasta Sam, who stood with his arms folded lightly across his massive chest, watching with a cynical smile the vary- ing phases of the affair—‘‘ yeou amble gently to th’ pint assigned yeou eout thar, an’ w’en we hev got. a.goodun’ ready Tet go yeour gun. Be keorful, too, thet yeou don’t gitskeered an’ blow th’ hull top o’ yeour head off a-givin’ th’ sig- nal.” _ Rol-de-rol enough, Winding-Blades!” sharp- ly enunciated the hunchback desperado, biting his thin lips until the blood trickled from the corners of his mouth, in an attempt to repress an outburst of rage. ‘I’m perfectly agreed with you on the subject of agrave; but I reckon ‘Wwe can wedge your bones into some crevice among the rocks—it will save the boys the thankless task of an hour’s digging. ‘* 1t’s useless to deny that you’re gritty; but bravery will avail you nothing—I shall scatter your meager brains to the four winds without an atom of trouble,” “Tut, tut! don’t yeou do it! Sech a collossal brain-power a-floa in’ *round at large might give th’ Territory th’ big-head an’ forever blight its prospects! And the mock Yankee grinned maliciously. ‘¢ Hnough of this pleasantry, gentlemen,” said St. Elmo, sternly. “It is obvious to all that Dunkle will be the winner in this fight; and I am glad that ib is so—not that I am in the - Jeast. prejudiced against Mr. Trotter, under- Hee Grond me, but because my sympathies are natu- rally with friends before strangers, ‘Alcalde, put your man; I will see that mine is quickly in position. atisfied, apparently, with having had the last word, the mock Yankee turned away with Gold Gabe, casting a last glance over his shoul- der at Shasta Sam as they strode rapidiy to- ward the southern terminus of the so-called horseshoe. “ King Gabe, there’s something rotten in Den- mark,” be muttered, when they were well away from the group. “T agree with you—St, Elmo has some under- hand move afoot,” promptly returned the giant ot the golden locks, ‘ But the nature of that move I cannot guess, unless it Le to precipitate a free fight at the close of this duel. Trotter shook his head. , “That is not it. Whatever the gambler’s scheme may be, it is directed against you alone —I could see that in the exultant gleam of his eye when he looked at you. _ ** When you rejoin the crowd, keep your wea- pons ready, and don’t get too far away from The Rival Giants of — Shasta Sam. Keep within easy pistol-shot of him, at all events.” ** You think—” ‘** { conjecture nothing—I am simply advising a safe course.” In silence, the two men strode on to the end of the plateau. There the blonde giant handed Trotter the Winchester, and spoke rapidly for a moment in low tones. ‘* It is a bad business, I will admit,” said the mock Yankee, at the conclusion of Gold Gabe’s remarks, ‘‘ But lam going to do my best to teach this desperado a lasting lesson. Perhaps [ may open the eyes of these Nowharites—who knows?’ ‘**’There is more in you than than they sus- pect,” remarked the giant. ‘* But this hunch- back is a bad man and a dead shot. Look to it that he secures no greater advantage over ‘you. Aside from this, I can only wish you success,” A hearty clasp of the hands, aad the alcalde turned and walked rapidly back to the crowd congregated on the edge of the plateau, opposite to the jutting face of the bluff, St. Elmo was already there. Raising his revolver, Shasta Sam fired in the air, the signal agreed upon, CHAPTER VIII. DECOYED. HvuDDLED together within the small apart- ment in the rear of the Fair Play, just before the time set for the hostile meeting between the bogus Yankee and the hunchback desperado, were three men—fellows whose faces alone were sufficient to stamp them as hardened villains, Prominent among the ill-favored trio was Ugly Mike, the leader of the Cripples, A short, squat, broad-shouldered ruflian, in the attire of an honest miner, and ‘‘armed to the teeth,” as the saying goes, was this chief of the desperadoes. His head was crowned with ashock of matted, unkempt red hair, while a heavy beard of the same fiery hue, foul with the tobacco-juice con- tinually oozing from the corners of his capacious mouth, covered the greater portion of his face. Under his beetling brows gleamed a pair cf small, blood-shot black eyes; and at some period in his eventful career bis nose had been the un- fortunate» recipient of a blow of some sort, which had flattened it out in a way more pic- turesque than beautiful, adding greatly to his general repulsiveness. The reputation borne by this bestial desperado accorded well with his personal appearance. Closeted with Ugly Mike were two of his fel- lows, each equally as unsavory in looks and in character, ‘* It are a bold game we hey ter play, boyees,” mumbled the chief of the Cripples, in hushed, barely audible tones, leaning over the rough deal table at which he was seated until his head almost touched those of his companions, ‘* An’ it are risky, too, an’ none but ther gamest ov ther gang hev a finger in ther pie. ‘* Bub [ knowed I c’u’d sw’ar by Wheezy Ben an’ Pious Pete, an’ I hes called yer hyer ter deal yer ver hands. ‘* Yer knows jest how matters stand atwixt St. Elmo and the alealde?” ‘* We does!” cautiously chorused the Cripples. “Wal, then yer hain’t ’t all s’prised wen I tells yer thet ther dainty sport are fixin’ ter guv ther giant a sick’nin’ swipe, then his last sick- ness, be yer?” ‘Not *t all,” in duet. ‘‘Dern me, ef yer hain’t iong-headed cusses, both ov yer!” exclaimed Ugly Mike, lost in patronizing admiration, “ Wal, wal! who ‘wd ’? thort et? An’ St. Elmo hev bin playin’ et es fine es ther p’int ov a rib-tickler, too!” Both ruffians smiled broadly at this flaming tribute to the acuteness of their perceptive facul- ties, ‘‘ Reckon we kin see through a knot-hole so far es they next one,” complacently remarked Pious Pete, ‘So yer kin,” graciously admitted the chief. * An’ out ov ther bull gang thar bain’t two men wot kin bandle this hyar leetle job fer St. Elmo eny better than either one ov yer fellers. Aw’ thet are jest w’ot I told him, not ten minutes ago, w’en he asked about yer. S- ‘Yer are ready ter do a leetle lively rustlin’ fer a couple ov gold ‘slugs’ apiece, I reckon?” The two men nodded assent so quickly that their heads came rather violently into contact, ‘* In course yer are—ye’r’ jest a-jumpin’ et ther chaince,” laughed Ugly Mike softly, as the pair of ruffians recoiled, staring at each other; “* but yer needn’t either butt out ther other’s brains a-sayin’ so, \ Nowhar. ** But ter git right down ter bizness, ther trick ter be worked are jest this: Last night thet purty female, w’ot hes turned ther heads ov half ther chaps in camp, arriv’ in Nowhar. Thet gal are ther alcalde’s sister, an’ she air now over at his lay-out. St. Elmo wants her snaked off up inter ther hills an’ hid away. Are yer game ter do et an’ keep yer moutins shet arterward?” Wheezy Ben’s beady little eyes expanded, and he stared first at the speaker, then at Pious Pete, while he dubiously shook his head, ‘St. Elmo’s neat little scheme can’t he worked,” he declared slowly. ‘ Fifty yaller slugs w’u’dn’t tempt me ter buckle on an’ take holt ov ther job. A feller’s life w’u’dn’t be wu'th a empty ca’tridge-shell, fer w’en yer steal thet gal away yer start King Gabe on ther war- path. An’ yer knows him.” : ‘‘ Benjy are a-singin’ my tune edzactly,” affirmed Pious Pete. ‘‘I w’uwd a heap sight ruther tackle a poi grizzly than ter git ther alcalde riled at me. ern my cats! ef he hain't a genooine cyclone, J nevyer see’d one!” Leaning far back from the table, Ugly Mike stared at the lesser ruffians, his expression one of ineffable disgust. ** Great Scott!” he growled; ‘fan’ I war fool enuff ter count on yer es men ov sand !” , Utterly crestfallen, the two desperadces fol- lowed the scornful remark with lugubrious silence, ‘*See hyar, galoots, yer squealed afore yer war hurted, both ov yer,” continued the chief a momentlater, resuming bis confidential air and again leaning over the table until within a few inches of his confreres. ‘* Yer bain’t bin asked ter run a particle ov risk, “Ther gal are ter be got at by stratagy, not by force, an’ in jest sech a wey thet ther alcalde can’t lay her disappearance at ther door ov eny ro or two pussons. Jest listen a bit till I loosi- date, ‘* A half-hour from now ther camp will be desarted, fer everybody w’ot kin shake a leg at all will climb up ther mountain-side ter see Hump Dunkle lay ther Yank by ther heels, “St. Elmo, bein’ a derned slick cuss at figger- in’ out sech things, see’d in a minute thet this war ther accepted time, as ther passon usty say, fer strikin’ ther fn’sbt big blow at King Gabe, an ’cordin’ly called me in ter superintend this ab- ductin’ ov ther gal. ** Now, pards, ther way hes bin made easy fer ther trick, fer ther cappers ov ther dainty sport hev spread a report ov ther comin’ duied ali through ther camp, twistin’ up ther leetle scrim- mage ontil at fu’st glance et looks es ef ther affair ’wd blossom inter ther biggest sort ov a fight, an’ tharby drawin’ ter ther hess-shoe plateau every soul but us fellers, ther gal, an’ a spy w’ot hes bin sot ter watchin’ ther alcalde’s lay-out, ‘* Jest es soon es ther way are puffectly cl’ar, ther spy ‘ll report ter us. Then all we hev ter do, are fer cne oy us fellers ter go ter ther gal with a cock-an’-bull story w’ot ’ll draw her away from ther cabin ter a spot whar ther rest ov us are in waitin’, w’ea we kin pounce onter her an’ escort her off ter a secure hidin’-place in ther hills. Arter thet, we kin break fer camp, an’ reach ther plateau afore ther sarkus up thar are eended., : “Oh, ther bull snap are es soft es dough, an’ ef yer don’t call fer a band in ther game, yer'll miss ther biggest chaince ov yer lives, so yer will; fer ther yaller slugs anted by ther dainty sport hain’t a sarcumstance ter ther wealth ter be captured in ther job w’en ther bluffin’ are all done, fer arter we git ther galinter our clutches oncet, St. Elmo 71 out ther dust afore we guv her up. ‘ Now, wot sez yer, Wheezy Pen, an’ you, Pious Pete?” A bread grim gradually spread over the fat, flaccid features cf the ruffian first addressed, Wot sez I” he cake gurgled, waving his hand tregicelly. ‘*Pard Mike, sence thar are no bullets to be eneountered an’ stopped by our corporosities, 1 want a finger in ther jack- pot ter be scooped; an’ ef Wheezy Ben Meggins can’t wheedle ther bonnie lassie inter leavin’ ther pertectin’ roof ov her big brother’s cabin, an’ elopin’ off inter ther woods or ther bills on a purty fool's errant, et are’cos he hes lost his yout ful b’uty an’ winning elerquence, Ef—” “* Oh, shet up, you /” interrupted Pious Pete, with a sulpburous oath. ‘Ov course yer kin count on us, Mike, But as fer this byar fat friend hyar, shet him up afore he sp’iles every- thing ’ith his mouthin’s. Dern little stock I take in him, anyway,” et sud “Never mind him, Pete,” said Ugly Mike, in a pacific tone. ‘Let Ben hev his way ef he en- joys et—et can’t hurt enything, yer know, ’ ev ter shower ~ — ee reo ¢ + + ¥ « ‘ _™ . ; ie 4 OP 5 f ' ,