Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 47 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

6 i hev got me into an onpleasant predicament. idn’t ye keep on singin’ ontil them wood ran- gers flopped down upon us, an’ cut right an’ left until Zim Paddock is the only survivor of Cap’n Rough’s train? An’ didn’t ye try to drive a bullet through my skull a while back? I ought to love ye fur these two leetle kind- nesses, oughtn’t I, young ’un? ’Pon my honor! I ought to adopt ye: but I guess I'll not take that responsibility at present.” There was a savage leer in the eyes that over- looked a face begrimed with forest dust and blood—an admixture hideously repulsive. ‘‘Have ye any money on yer person?” the man suddenly asked. ‘* Not a cent.” **Do yeever expect to get any—I mean, hain’t ou got a rich father or uncle or some kind 0? in who is goin’ to do well by you one o’ these days?” he eyes of the boy dilated at the singular question, and became riveted with an expression of wonder upon Paddock. ‘What makes you think I have?” he asked. ** That is buckin’ one question ag’in’ another,” Paddock cried, chagrinned. “I’m not obleeged to answer, am I? Well, Pve got two eyes in my head. I’ve had ’em thar fur forty-two year. kin see some things when it tain’t too dark. Yer hands war white as the skin on your breast when I first saw you with Cap’n Rough. They’ve been browned by the climate whar we’ve been. Now come out an’ say fur honest, boy, if you hevn’t got a prospect fur money ahead.” ‘Ido not know!” was Nat’s reply. “TI am sure that I am no blood kin to Captain Rough.” ‘**So war all of us,” Paddock said, with a smile. ‘*Many’s the time Pve told the boys, Jack Gus- tin in partic’lar, that you war no more his boy than mine. Whar di you come from?” The curiosity of the man who stood before N + pe ae Nat in the midst of a forest with a coil of rope in his hand, was of the most intense kind. He seemed to believe that he stood on the threshold of a secret which, if disclosed, would bring to his empty coffers that god which he worshiped with the miscr’s adoration. But it appeared ser to take flight, and leave him, moneyless still. “ Zimri Paddock, what are you going to do with me?’ the boy suddenly demanded, totally ignoring the ruffian’s eagerness. ‘That depends on your own actions!” was the rejoinder. “You mean to hang me here in the woods with that rope?” ‘* Not exactly a hangin’,” laughed the villain. ‘“‘T hain’t got time to parley here. Can’t you hear a strange noise over your left shoulder? The scent of m own blood is the cause of them sounds. Say, talk tome. Whar did you come from when Cap’n Rough took you up? That’s what I want to know!’ ** I lived in a city then.” ** Just asl imagined. Go on!” **My father made fire-works in a little shop—” ‘* Stop?’ thundered Paddock. ‘“ I don’t want a lie—no fixed-up story here, my young lark!” Nat’s face flushed with indignation. ‘*Tt is not a lie, sir!” he cried. ‘‘ You would not say that the second time if I stood free on this he re Paddock laughed brutishly, and showed his colored teeth. ‘“* Yer hands say thet you never hel make fire-works,” he said, eying the youth. ‘“‘ Now tell the truth, or, by the eyes of me! I'll settle the matter between us right here.” ‘Why should I lie, Zimri Paddock? Captain Rough took me from the shop with the consent of the man who called me his son,” ‘*He wasn’t your father, though?” the man cried, with a joyful start. ‘**T don’t know—but I—I think not.” ‘Ah! think not!” was the ferocious cry. *'That’s your way of beatin’ around the bush. Well, gold or no gold, Pll bring matters to a crisis.’ Setting his lips firmly behind the last word, Zimri Paddock pushed our hero operate the lit- tle tree beneath which they had halted, and pro- ceeded at once to throw the cord around his body. Nightingale Nat fixed his eyes on the villain; but did not put in a word of pleading. Mercy seemed a stranger to Captain Rough’s money-loving tool. _ The cords were wielded without pity, and — found his body drawn painfully land to the ree, He almost wished that the hand of Paddock had not relaxed on his trachea when he roughly drew him from the hollow tree as we Rad already related. Beadle’s ae ee eee ~ ‘“'Now, beauty!’ cried Paddock as he flung the lash-like ends of the rope into the prisoner’s face. ‘‘A person with half sense could tell what this tyin’ means. You had to sing the train to its death, an’ thar’s half of my cheek carried away by yer bullet. I guess I'll live over itif I git away from hyar soon. So you came from a fire-works shop, eh!” ‘*T did.” ‘* Mighty tart!” sneered Paddock, cut by the brief reply. ‘‘I’m thinkin’ yer sentences will be longer afore mornin’. ell me who you really are, an’ by the eyes of me! Ill turn kind an’ tramp you out o’ these woods.” ‘‘T have already told you. Iam not going to purchase my liberty with a lie?” ‘*Oho!” cried Paddock, lifting his head and giving a prolonged whistle. ‘‘I guess you're nothin’ worth savin’ after all. But the cap’n did act as if you war a valuable prize. Strange! Now good-by, my nightingale. If thar be any gold comin’ to you not one dollar will ever shine on your hand. Because why, my bird? Be- cause Zimri Paddock left ye tied to a tree in the big woods of Wisconsin, to be eaten by wolves an’ b’ars!” Did the boy’s cheeks blanch? No; his eyes flashed fire at the merciless weer and his lips, a trifle paler than usual, closed with determination. The man picked up his rifle and stepped back, followed by the eyes of Nightingale Nat. ‘“Arn’t ye goin’ to beg? he exclaimed in sur- prise. ‘“Not to you!” was the reply. ‘* Zimri Pad- dock, if I should get away from this tree alive you will have an enemy who will hunt you not only in these woods but far beyond them— wherever you go. He will hunt you to death!” “Tf you get away, eh?’ laughed Paddock with the coarseness of the deep-dyed villain. ‘Jest try the ropes, my cherubim, an* see if thar’s any danger of that. I fancy thet you would be a bad enemy; but you’re one hay will never foller me—never, my lad!” Paddock now step further back until his burly figure gradually grew indistinct to the bound boy. “It’s good-by fur good!” came a voice from the deeper shadows—a voice which Nat recog- nized as his tormentor’s. ‘**Perhaps!” murmured the nightingale; but he did not send the word into the wood for he knew that it would occasion an outburst of coarse ruffianism. He had heard enough of Zimri Paddock’s voice for the present. Perhaps he might hear if in the future freight- ed with the brute’s death-cry. Perhaps! The footsteps died away and Nightingale Nat was alone. ‘* There ’re two reasons why I want to of this scrape,” he muttered to himself. ‘I want to know who I am, and I want to pay off some old scores, The. old man who made fire- works can not be my father. He indentured me to Captain Rough for a pu Paddock suspects as much. Rockets and Roman-candles! when I get away from this tree, [ll hunt Shadow-Shot up, and er ey off several old scores. Captain Rough ugh should he learn from Paddock that I was left here, He brought me into these woods for some terrible reason. Iknow it. Oh! Father above, shall all their villainy ge Strong in his indignation, Nightingale Nat tried his bonds; but his trial caused them to cut into his flesh, and, with a groan, he desisted. “Wolves and bears, he said,” the boy ejacu- lated. ‘‘ Just let them keep away till morning. Shadow-Shot will not give me up until he fin me again. Ive got a big friend in that old hunter, and I’m going to stick to him, too.” The little captive remained so quiet for an hour after his muttered resolve, that a person standing a few feet away would not have been aware of his presence, It grew suddenly dark with the shadows whose greatest intensity precede the dawn. **Tt’s no use!” Nat exclaimed all at once. ‘‘I can’t sleep, and talking doesn’t do me any good. Crackers and torpedoes! I’ve got tosing. If I did sing the train into danger, please good for- tune, I may sing myself outof if. So here goes, hit or miss. en I want to sing I feel misera- ble oy don’t send the notes skipping up my oat. : Then out into the depths of that lonely Wis- consin forest, floated the wild musical notes of the doomed bo , He sung with the zest of a n infatuated by the spell of music, and a fitanae would never have dreamed that the singer was bound toa t out Half-Dime Library. — a —— —— tree, and had been left to the mercy of the maddest tenants of that dark forest. Louder and clearer grew the strains as the song advanced, and the boy seemed to forget ie situation in the melody of the bird-like rills. Did any human beings hear? Yes A man seated on a horse—a man who wore a broad-brimmed hat, and carried a rifle across the saddle. ‘““There’s the accursed boy!” he said, gather- ing up thereins. “‘ Why, in the name of heaven! is he singing now? Is he crazy? He’llsing a bullet to his heart if he doesn’t stop!” The second person who heard was a girlish looking individual who had becn brought to a halt by the weird song. She, too, carried a rifle. “What is it?” she asked herself, with all the curiosity of her sex fully aroused. ‘‘ What but some person singing out there in the woods, The voice comes no nearer. It is not the voice of aman; it isa boy’s. I wonder if he belongs to the train?” After listening to the song for a moment, the pretty speaker started in the direction of the singer. Aimdat at the same time, the man on horse- back began to approach Nightingale Nat, but from a nearly opposite direction. ~ As for the boy, he stopped suddenly and ex- claimed. ‘“The wolves are answering me. Well, I thought I could not sing, even in these woods and not get an answer from some kind of throat,” He did not exhibit signs of fright. On the contrary, he smiled at his own words. CHAPTER VII. A RETURN TO PLUNDER, ** "YES, mebbe we’ll squar’ accounts, cap’n.” Captain Rough looked into the stern counte- nance of the man who stood before him, pistol in hand, Then he glanced at his horse, lying motionless on the leaves beside him. ‘* Dead as a door-nail,”. Shadow-Shot said, with a grin, as he noticed the coup d’wil, ‘‘ Now let’s come to business.” The man stepped nearer. : FS hg the first place, cap’n, whar is the leetle one Rough started at the question. It told him that Nightingale Nat’s where- abouts were not known to the ranger. ‘“Do not ask me,” he said. ‘All I know is that you were with him, when Isaw him last— sOmR, at the place where we fought the rob- rs ‘‘ Fought?” sneered the gaunt ranger. ‘‘ You don’t pretend to say that you fought the White Vultures, eh, cap’n?”’ Rough flushed. ‘‘Oh, it paints your face when a fellar talks about that terrible resistance what you made to the robbers. Why, your cowardly men could have wiped out every robber, an’ avenged the massacre of Cc llyer an’ his men.” ins ranger’s lips closed madly behind the last words. ‘“‘T thought I could rely on my men,” Rough said. ‘ en they deserted me, I, of course, could not contend with the bandits alone. ‘Did you, cap’n?’ taunted the ranger, a me gleam in his dark eyes. ‘“ How about thot haeohaking thet took place at the train, an’ why was the wagons allowed to go on? Thar’s a leetle explanation wanted on this par- tic’lar p’int, cap’n. What d’ye say to it?” The man in the toils saw that prevarication would effect nothing with the ranger, so he . said: ‘‘In Captain Dave, I unexpectedly found an old acquaintance, who permitted me to proceed. I did not’ know he was in these “I did!” said Shadow-Shot, significantly. ‘ An old friend, eh? Friends yet, cap’n?” ‘* That must depend upon inces,” ‘‘ Jest so, Now for the next question. Who is thet youngster?” “ », nephew.” gif ‘“’Pon honor, cap’n? “ sir.” ~ Cap’ that is what I call a lie.” Rough flushed indignantly. “Oh! git redif you wish!” said Shadow-Shot; ‘“‘T’m not swallowin’ everything thet’s put into my mouth. Your nephew? ti he’s yourn, he’s rine. at war thet you war sayin’ to your- self jest afore I give your horse the dead-drop? Suthin’ about huntin’ the leetle one down in JOO <eom cS (E (Ele)