Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 498 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

-yer mental gear some o -cold but significant smile. i | quietly, but with evident reluctance Jified his hands rom the butts of the revolvers he had been about ‘to draw and flung them up, palms outward and hy * Ye hev called; Ishow my hand. Now what?’ he tcily enunciated. “That depends, gentle critter, that depends,” softly cooed the | pepe who had so abruptly in- troduced bimself as Cactus Burr, Esquire, of Hard Luck, as, keeping the muzzl- of his “‘ six ’’ on a line with the head of the entrapped sport, he with his left hand drew from his kets a silk handkerchief and spread it upon a projection of the bowlder, pre- paratory to seating h mself, ‘ Depends—upon what?” angrily gritted Perdido, as bis captor sunk languidly upon the improvised seat. A strange smile flitted across the handsome face of Cactus Burr, Esquire. ‘Wal, now ye hev me,” he frankly admitted. ‘* Mebbe upon nothin’ a’ tall, fer ye look like a white man; an’ ef ye aire sech, thar is no bone ov conten- tion betwixt ye an’ me, * But, say. stranger, ye’re a heap too mercurial fer yer own peace an’ quiet—ye’re goin’ ter slip a cog in these hyar fine days an’ salivate yerself.”’ The sport uttered an exclamation of impatience and disgust. * Confine yerself ter business,” he growled. “ Ther sun aire ’most out ov sight, an’ I hev work ter do afore night ”’ Cactus Burr, Esquire, nodded shortly, and the half-mocking expression fled from his face, to be in- stantly r placed by a look of grim determination. Arising from the bowlder, he advanced a pace, his brilliant blue eyes flaming with a peculiar lurid light, and, over his leveled revolver, in a hard, cold voice demanded: ‘Stranger, do ye belong ter ther outfit in camp below, just around ther bend in ther pass? “Speak quick an’ tell ther truth, fer by ther Lord -ov Israel! yer life depends upon yer answer!” CHAPTER V. A WEIRD RESCUE. At the query, Perdido uttered a sneering laugh. “*T sh’u’d think ye’d know ’thout askin’,”’ he re- torted bitterly. Ashght frown gathered on the smooth brow of the man in broadcloth, and his tapering fore-finger played menacingly on the trigger of his leveled weapon. ‘“*Ye mean by thet—”’ * Jest w’at ye kin make out of it,’’ broke in Per. dido. ‘Stiffen yer knees an’ hump yer back inter an interrogation p’int—then uncurl yerself fer yer pains. Ye hold ther drop, an’ so kin help yerself ter w'at leetle dust I’ve got, mebbe, but who an’ wat I am aire my own affair—not yours, ye thievin’ shark!” The sport from Hard Luck bowed with icy-cold- ness. ‘*T hev no wish ter pry inter your affairs,’ he pro- tested, bis eyes glowing strangely. ‘‘I simply wish ter know if [am ter regard ye as a friend or a foe? Onder:tand, time is as precious with me as with you. Aad ther last time—do ye travel with the outfit be- ow?’ There was a deadly threat in the words and the bearing of Cactus Burr—vhe hammer of his revolver fairly trembling in the balance, requiring but a hair's weight to burl death’s leaden messenger through the brain of the reckless sport; yet the lips of the latter remained silent, curling slightly with a For a moment the ominous quiet hel” sway; then again over the face of the man from Hard Luck —— a change of expression, a8 Startling as sud- en, All trace of a der a magician’s wand; the ag 8 clothed itself ina winning smile, an eyes twinkled roguishly. * “Sport, ye’re a dandy ov ther jimmiest kind oy ther James order,”’ be cried, deftly lowering the hammer of his revolver and returning the “ to its pocket. ‘Will yeshake? Aire we friends?” “Not ef ther court knows herself—an’ I kalkilate she does,” u'tered Perdido gruffly, as he clapped his bands upon the butts of his weapons. “I hain’t ther style Ov galoot w’at crosses palms wit! a thiev- inz shark who hes backed water before a little show ov sound. : ‘Now, ef Y e hev &n ounce ov grit in yer p’izen kar- case, draw an’ defend yerself, for one vf us must die, D'ye heer? Scorniag to take any advantage of the man in broadcloth. Perdido had refrained from d rawing his weapons, though his hands reste lightly upon them in such a wav that it would beutterly impossible for is opponent to again catch the “ drop,” T at the dark-faced sport was thoroughly earnest in his determination to precipitate a death-strugzle out ike was apparent atagiance. The veins stcod er and sternness vanished, as un- boyish face the deep-blue out like whipcord on his dusky forehead; hard lines had appeared around his mouth, and the peculiar reddish sparkle of his black eyes betrayed a rage born cf deep-rooted hatred. ~ “Yes you or I must die ri ht hyar,” he continued, his fiery gaze never for an instant leaving the grad- ually widening blue eves of Cactus Burr, “ An’ ye know why it is so—thet ther outfit in camp b low aire my deadliest foes; thet ye aire no more s Burr, of Hard Luck, than ye aire the man in ther moon; thet yeaire the one man in all ther world whom I have cause ter hate most—Harold Chet- -wynd, alias Captain Redblade, chief of ther road- agents known as ther Serpents ov Cimarron Fr ig brilliant blue eyes opened to ther fullest ex- tent, his face the picture of astonishment—real or mock—his red lips pursed into a knot, Cactus Burr, Esquire, stood like a graven image until the bitter enunciations of Perdido had ceased, then gave vent to his pent-up feelings in a keen, penetrating whistle, **Am I awake or dreamin’? Aire ther cuss a mad- man or a fool?’ he exclaimed, his voice just audi le, = wearily resumed his seat upon the handker- chief. The next instant, ere the hot words trembling upon the lips of Perdido Fernandez could find utter- once, as if in answer to the sharp whistle of the man in broadcloth, six men, led by Bravo Brice, broke from the cover of the surrounding jungle and witha swift rush closed in upon the dark-faced sport. Taken completely by surprise by the skillfully planned and adroitly executed maneuver, Perdido stood irresolute for a single instant, then, just as the Serpents threw themselves upon him, Par a re- volver from his belt, flung up his hand and fired three shots in swift succession straight at the smiling face of the man from Hard Luck. “Take thet—an’ thet—an’ thet, ye cringin’, slimy cuss!’’ he gritted savagely, as he emptied the cham- bers of his weapon. ‘*Cuss ye! ye played yer game ‘ith a cunnin’ hand—an’ /zs¢t /”’ The last word was marked witha high degree of fierce exultation, for at the last crack of the revol- ver, Cactus Burr, Esquire, had thrown up his hands and with a hoarse cry toppled backward over the as rt whe of the great bowlcer, rithing desperate'y in the grasp of the road- agents, disarmed before he could turn his ready weapons against them, Perdido was quickly over- powered and securely bound. The noosed end of a lariat was then thrown over his head and drawn tightly around his neck, — ‘*Hyar, you, Blunt Bill an’ Sweetsie Smith, an’ you, Poker Pete, grab a holt ov this hyar rope an’ tow ther critter down ter cam we cried Bravo Brice, dealing Perdido a sharp blow across the face. “* Ther rest ov us ‘Ilfoller arter we've looked about him,” with a significant nod toward the bowlder be- hind woich Cactus Burr, Esquire, was supposed to be lying cold in death. ‘An’ treat ther galumpbin’ critter gently, Bill, fer his feelin’s aire oem hurted,’’ added one of the re- maining trio, as Blunt Bill and his companions started down thes eep with Perdido, The devilish suggestion embodied in the carelessly uttered words was not lost upon the ruffian as the er ot sport soon learned to bis cost, _ Twilight was fast mantling the face of the decliv- ity and steadily multiplying the difficulties to be «n- countered in making the descent. Blunt Bill with the end of the lariat wound around his right wrist, led the way, followed by Perdido, w ile Sweetsie Smith and Poker Pete brought up the rear. The last named ruffians hed stopped by the way long enough to secure heavy, thorny cudgels, with which they frequently belabored the captive sport, rr gine their blows with foul and bitter invec- ives, Utterly belpless, half-choked by the savage jerks and pulls of Blunt Bill’s strong arm, bruised and bleeding from the merciless biows of the pasoron d clubs, Perdido staggered blindly along the roug and narrow trail, his white teeth shut firmly to- g: ther, his half-closed eyes glaring balefully with intense, unutterable rage. Not the slightest reply did he vouchsafe the mock- ing taunts and jeers of his brutal captors; but every fiber of his form quivered in mute protest against the outrageous treatment he was being subjected to, and men ally he registered a vow of vengeance against the trio, death to one and all, if he escaped! The distance to the bottom of the pass was not greater than three hundred yards, yet so toilsome was the way that the better part of an hour was consumed in descending. hat point reached, Blunt Bill and his party pushed up the pass with in- creased rapidity, toward the camp spoken of by Cactus Burr. , Between the lofty walls everything was enshroud- ed in Cimmerian gloom, Perdido tugged savagely at the pinions confining his wrists; he felt that, once free of them, his escape would be assured; but they had been knotted with a cunning band and resisted bis stoutest efforts. On throuch the pass stalked the four men, the hantom outlmes of the stalwart fo:m of each bare- y visible to the other members of the group; on, until, rounding an abrupt bend in the rocky wall, they came in view of a small camp-fire a hundred yards ahead, ‘ At the same instant, a sibilant hiss sounded through the brooding silence. A singu’ar swishing noise, ending with a dull thud, followed, and herr Bill sunk down, quivering in the throes of Scarcely had the form of the outlaw touched the earth, when a garish blue light emanating from some unseen source, flared up, dispelling the dark- ness for yards around, and = ale blinding Perdido. ce his two tormentors, Sweetair Smith and Poker ele. Then up from the earth beside the lifeless form of the stricken Serpent arose a ghastly skeleton. With a peculiarly ae jerking motion, the horrible thing strode forward, each step being accompanied with the rattle of bones and the clanking of a chain. For a moment the two road-agents stood and star- ed at the grisly object, with starting eyeballs, then turned, dropped their drawn reyolvers. and with short, gasping cries of alarm fled down the pass as if pursued by a thousand demons. erdido Fernandez remained as if rooted to the spot, powerless to move hand or foot. As suddenly, almost, as it bad flag’ ed wp, the un- . ’ ~<. , as , 4 P 4 “ty ¥ i, aa 7 ae a} a? “ TR a , - %. A, 4, —- ia - . fee . ~~ rt tact tt CC LLL LLL LL LLL LLL EL LLL LLL LL LL ee Ce —i— ———. — ; 4 afk Sie? i> >. s _ 7a fs e ¥ . F € -y « 4 ~ ' o, HM = . . wm s+ «* “ e . > | | ied Cactus Burr, the Man from Hard Luck. 5 ——_—$—$———————— earthly light died out, and the skeleton form disap- ared. Then, under cover of the darkness—inten- sified and filled with a weird horror by the stiange occurrence—a strong hand was placed upon the shoulder of the dazed sport. A moment it rested there, until the noosed lariat had been lifted from his neck, then slipped deftly down bis arm to the pinions confining his wrists. Under the keen edge of a knife the thongs parted, and Perdido was free, with a belt of arms in bis hands! “Go, and at once,’ exclaimed the mysterious res cuer, in a low and hollow voice. *‘ The camp yonder is astir, andin your present condition you cannot meet your foes. You will find your horse at the end of the pass.” Strangely weak and trembling, the sport turned and without a word strode rapidly away, urged on by the shouts and yells of the aroused and alarmed camp For fully an bour he hurried along, his hands rest- ing upon the butts of the revolvers provided by his strange deliverer, momentarily expecting to encoun- ter the two Serpents known as Sweetsie Smith and Poker Pete. The rapid walk through the cool, damp pass went far to allay his feverish condition, and all traces of his recent alarm disappeared. Arrived at the edge of the plain, he halted and peered keenly around in the dim light of the stars. A few yards distant was a horse, moving restlessly to and fro, and as the sport espied the animal his lips parted and he muttered: “‘Itis Fleetfoot. Again do I owe my life to Walk- ing Death, the Leper, for this is his work and his alone, ‘*‘ Now, I will beed his warning and leave the trail of the Serpents of Cimarron; for, wounded as I am, “ would be foolhardiness to attempt to cope with 1em, ‘*T will hasten on to the chain of mining-camps they are planning to work, and there lie in wait to accomplish their destruction.” And moving forward, Perdido caught the bridle- rein, gently stroked the neck of the black steed a moment, then placed his foot in the stirrup ready for mounting. At exactly the same instant, asimilar performance was being gone through with on the opposite side of the horse, by a tall, gaunt, evil-looking road-agent. The two men arose in the stirrups simultaneously, each in blissful ignorance of the other's presencw until their heads collided with a force that brought to the eyes of each a myriad of twinkling, darting stars. Reeling blindly for a moment, each rallied and grasped the saddle with fierce tenacity, then stared at the other through the darkness with savage in- tentness. The recognition was mutual. ‘‘Poker Pete! by ther Rockies!” crisply ejaculated Perdido, whipping a revi lver from his belt. ‘Yas, ye cussed hoss-thief! it’s Poker Pete!” re- torted the outlaw, following the sport’s example. ““Now. w’ot aire ye goin’ ter do about it?” “Kill yel’’ was the grim response, as back to the mind of the sport flashed a recollection of the brutal treatment he had endured at the hands of the man before him, CHAPTER VI. THE FACE BEHIND THE MASK. Anp then, there on the plain, in the black shadows of the foot-bills began the strangest struggle in the remarkable career of the reckless sport. It was man against man; and, aside from physical conditions, the odds were even. Equally surprised _ the sudden encounter, each with his foot in a stirrup, his left hand grasping the saddle, his right the butt of a heavy revolver, to whom the victory would fall was a question. Under the presence of the hated outlaw. Perdido felt all weakness and pain vanish. His blood tingled with flerce heat. Every fiber seemed to throb with new life and strength. ‘Yas, Poker Pete, l'm goin’ ter hev yer life!” ke swiftly enunciated, as his revolver swept up to a level with the face of his foe. ‘I swore it with each blow ye guv mea bit ago, Nov die!” There had been no cessation of action upon the part of the sport as he uttered the above words. Tle muzzle of his revolverstared the outlaw full between the »yes, his Jong index finger pressing sharply against the triggers and as the intense, deadly strains of his voice abruptly ceased, a blinding red flash followed, lighting up for an instant the face of each, as a heavy dual report crashed out, sending a thousand echoes ringing up the yawning pass. Then came a wild commotion. in which were blended the plunging and snorting of the alarmed horse, the sound of heavy blows and deep grvans and fierce curses. “Dern v¢, fer a—mean cuss!’’ panted a harsh voice recognizable as that of Poker Pete. ‘“* Ye thort—ter lay «t—on me then, didn’:»—-ye?, Two—kin han’le eerds in—thet gam, ye uvis’abul—hoss— Ow/! The interjection came in the shape of an inarticyu- Ite cry of agony—just such a sound as the thrust of a keen knife would wring from the lips of a man The bullets from the revolvers had not been the means of injury to either of the desperate combat- ants, although fired at such murderously close ran that the burning powder had left its mark upon the eyebrows and mustaches ef both. Each had been prepared for a shot from his antagonist, Just as Perdido trigger. his weapon was knoc from his ape by the swiftly ascending barrel of the outlaw’s revolver—both “tools” exploding in mid- air, directly above and between the heads of the two men. then falling to the ground. Thus they clinched across the saddle, each using his h hier foe a y ee TS