Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 498 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

- with brutal force as a battering-ram to dash into the other’s face, and startling the frightened horse at a mad gallop directly up the pass. In this emergency Perdido had succeeded in drawing his knife, and with a downward stroke driven it deep into the out- law’s shoulder. A snar.ing, raging cry from Poker Pete succeeded the gasp of pain, and. careening wildly as the black steed thundered on, he clawed savagely at the face and throat of his foe, finally enmeshing his fingers deep in the long black hair of the gamely struggiing sport, and jerking forward the dark face until it = a fairand open mark for his own thick skull. **Satan take yean’ yer knife, Perdido Fernandez!” he screamed, mad with the excruciating torture of the loug blade set firmly in'the bones of his shoulder —too firmly to be withdrawn by the sport. ‘Take et—take et! Et’s yer gruel, ef it aire wu’ss nur burn- in’ brimstun’!”’ Warned by the sav clutch in his hair, that his face was in danger of being battered out of all sem- blance of anything human with the bullet head of Poker Pete, thesport, with a deft movement fasten- ed the long, supple fingers of his right hand in a re- lentless gripe upon the throttle of the outlaw, ‘hus checkmating most effectually the latter’s devilish purpose. “Sizzle gently, ye meat fer devil's broth!” rasp- ingly uttered Perdido, as the clinched hands of the maddened and thoroughly desperate outlaw pulled and tugged at his long locks. ‘‘ Fer each ha’r I'll hev a drop ov yer heari’s blood!”’ A retort of an equally lurid character was tremb!l- ing upon the quivering lips of Poker Pete; but, ere he could give it articulation, a deafening outburst of yells and whoops rung through the confines of the narrow pass, and the horse, shivering in every limb, shied sharply, and ee in the midst of a so of light shed bya half-score of flaming tor- es] Bold, stout of heart, though he was, Perdido was conscious of asense of almost utter dismay as ua swift glance at the surrounding faces forced him to a realization of the bitter fact that he was at last completely at the mercy of the lawless Serpents of Cimarron |! But, bad as he knew his predicament to be, the dashing sport was not the man to yield without a struggle. After that first wild outburst upon the part of the road-agents.a moment of silence, broken only by an occasional snort of alarm from the black mus- tang, ensued, and both Perdido and Poker Pete, neither for an instant relaxing his hold upon the other, scanned, so far as possible, the visages brought ne prominence by the light of the flickering tor- ches. *‘A highly tragic repetition of the Kilkenny cats’ affair, truly!’ sneered a cold, clear voice, from the inner ranks of the Serpents. At the words, a palpable change swept over the bloody face of Perdido, and with strange precision his burning black eyes instantly singled out the er. A small man, compared to his brawny fellows; firmly and compactly built, narrow across the shoulders perhaps, but full and unusually well de- veloped as to chest; arms and legs of perfect form, and hands and feet small and shapely. His clothing was of serviceable gray corduroy, the loose jacket unbuttoned, revealing a ruffled shirt front of snowy whiteness, in the center of which blazed and glittered a costly diamond. Knotted high about his throat was a fancy silk ’kerchief. His long nut-brown hair was covered by a white som- brero, the crown encircied with the stuffed skin of a prairie rattler, the head and tail lapping in front and held in place by a small? ed dagger / Of his face, nothing could be seen, for from brow to chin swept the folds of a soft silken mask, a dead black in color. Through the eyelets in the facial shield gleamed a pair of large dark orbs. All this, the sport noted at a single, sweeping glance, and it required no further information to apprise him of the fact that the sneering speaker was no less a personage than the redoubtable Cap- tain Redblade, chief of the Serpents! Then the eyes of the two men met—those of the sport blazing with hate, the chief's expressive of conrempt more than aught else, ‘Oho! oho!” cried the latter, with just the slight- est s ow of increased interest. ‘ lt isthat meddling Free Lance, Perdido Fernandez; and our worthy Poker Pete is.the oak bough by which the flowing locks of the modern Absalom bave come to grief!’ The voice of the road-agent chief served to break the semblance of a truce between the two half- mounted foes, for they at once renewed the mad struggle the bony, Clawish fingers of Poker Pete gouging deep into the scalp of the cornered sport, the latter’s relentless grip in turn shutting down on the hairy throat cf the outlaw with such tenacity as almost to choke off his power of utterance, Then followed a surging forward on the part of the Serpents, as though to interfere and bring the brutal combat to a close; but if such was their de- sign. it was not to be carried into effect, for Cap- Redblade’s hands dropped swiftly to the gleam- ing gold butis of the revolvers in bis silken girdle, and. his voice clear and metallic, he cried: “Hold! Let no one attempt to interfere, for it is a fair ficht, man against man! “If Poker Pete slays the sport, well and good; if ' the sport kills Pete, so much the better, for the lazy loafer isn’t worth his feed—he's a nuisance of the first water. If he affords us a few minutes’ amuse- ment now, it’ll be more than he ever did for the band before!” 6 Cactus Burr, the Man from Hard Luck. i —————— Bold words, truly, and strange, in the face of the | taking on a squealing sound from the very intensity fact that Poker Pete had long been held up as a yaragon of virtue and valor—as virtue and valor go n an outlaw camp! Almost before the chief bad ceased, angry mut- terings and incoherent expressions of dissatisfac- tion began to arise on all sides, accompanied with desultory threats to do this and to do that—threats which might go for much or for little, according to the caliber of the man who would chance the initia- tive in an attempt to carry them into execution. A stee'y glitter appeared in the dark eyes of Cap- tain Redblade as the full porcent of the rebellious mutterings flashed upon him; but there was ro change in his easy, careless attitude, save that his slender white hands seemed to close just a thought more firmly around the gold-bound butts of his weapons. ‘* Ev’s a derned shame, pards—-thet’s w’at et aire!” pratingly uttered a strained voice, easily recognized y the Serpents as that of Poker Pete’s bosom friend and colleague, Sweetsie Smith. ‘ Cuss et all! ef thet dark-faced critter hain’t fanged an’ made ter bite et off short, Pete’s fixed fer saltin’! Squar’ deal? Wal, I sh’u’d cackle t’other way! Ther sport's hol’in’ ther age, wn’ puttin’in his biggest licks ter raise Pete right out ov ther game! Deal yersclves a han’, say I, an’ swig hard ter bu’st ther snap!” These hurried words brought matters to a focus, for there was an instant massing of men immedi- ately behind Smith, all with weapons drawn, and eager to hurl themselves forward and wrest from the sport the terrible victory that seemed within his grasp. Then—a lithe form flashed through the murky light, and Captain Redblade, his back almost against the straugely-burdened mustang, his eyes glowing redly, his revolvers leveled, with the hammers fair- ly on a balance, sturdily faced the faction of mal- contents, and in a shrill, incisive voice warned them back, crying: ‘*Stop, gents, right where you are! Don’t forget that yours truly is chief here, and thatI shall run this funeral to suit myself. Id hate to have it to do, but the first kicker who tries to jump traces’ll wake up with a mineral shaft in hissystem! You hear me! You know me!” Not louder than was necessary, wholly devoil of rant or bluster, charged with deadly earnestness, and in atone that spoke volumes in the way of de- termination, the words fell with weighty force upon the outlaws, sending them back in a cluster around their would-be leader, Sweetsie Smith. Baffled for the moment, that worthy entered into a hurried whispered consultation with those of the erpents nearest him. “ee Meanwhile, under guise of continuing the struggle with Poker Pete, Perdido was preparing to make a bold stroke for liberty—and revenge! His teeth hard-set to repress even the slightest groan at the excruciating pain produced by Poker Pete’s tugging, twitching gripe in bis hair, bis eyes half-eclosed and gleaming with a crafty light, his long fingers shut mercilessly on the throttle of the fast-weakening outlaw, listening covertly but keen- ly to the stormy passage between Captain Redblade and his men, tle sport, «xercising due care that Poker Pete should not discover the move, ~ y worked his left hand down toward the remaining revolver-butt protruding from his belt. A fine tool, almost forgot en in the intensity of the strange struggle—six chambers, each with i s leaden messenger peeping forth. ready at the will cf its master to snuff out the Jight of human life. At the very instant Perdido’s hand closed around the weapon, Poker Pete intuitively shot a swift glance downward, discovering the action and in- stantly Li my its full import. Desperate before, doubly desperate now, that death swift and sure seemed to to stare him in the face, the outlaw, his empurpled visage paling even under the grasp of the iron hand at his throat, loosed his hold on the 1 ng locks of the sport, with a violent twist of his head wrenched himself free, and at the riskof broken neck dropped backward to the ground, uttering as he fell, in harsh, gasping tones, the warning: ‘* Look out, pards! look out! Ther cuss is heeled, devil br’ile *im!’’ ‘* Yes, gents, heeled an’ ready fer a leetle healthy blood-lettin’!” quickly added Perdido, his eyes emitting a vivid, mocking glare, as, seating himself firmly in the saddle, he leveled bis revolver at full cock, Warned by Poker Pete’s gasping cry, Captain Redblade wheeled sharply around, bis hands thrown up and back until the muzzle of his weapons almost rested upon his shoulders, ready to be flung forward for a quick and deadly snap-shot. Too late! A sardonic laugh from the sport. a flash, areport, and the chief of the road-agents spun blind- ly ’round and ‘round, th n dropped in an inert beap. And as be fell, the black mask fluttered up from his face, exposing for a single instant. to the keen eyes of Perdido, the strong, c'ear-cut features of actus Burr, Esquire, of Hard Luck! All this. from the moment the frightened and doubly-burdened mustang came to a halt in the Serpents’ midst until the fall of the chief, in the merest fraction of the time it takes to tell it. —_—- CHAPTER VII. THE SEVERED LARIAT. “He's slayed ther chief!’ gratingly uttered Sweetsie Smith, his red-bearded face aflame with rage, as Captain Redblade sunk down. . ‘Didn't I know et was a-comin’ an’ try ter stop et_by slappin’ brakes on ther dirty cuss?” he howled, his voice of bis pent-up fury. “Say, _ The heavy detonation of a revolver filled the hhatus, and Sweetsie Smith cropped his weapon and i og both hands to his shaggy head. . “Ye aire marked, gentle laddy-buck—only marked!’ cried Perdido mockingly, as he wheeled the mustang to speed down the pass. “when next we meet—”’ A dark coil sped hissing over the heads of the out- laws. settling finally around the body_of the sport and pinioning his arms to his sides. © Which is hyar an’ now!’ broke ina harsh and aneces voice, as, keeping the lariat taut, Bravo Brice worked his wa forward. ‘ Reckon ye’d most forgot thar wus sic a pussones me, critter! Didn’t count on mé chip- in’ in and scoopin’ ther pot! But all ther same, I Eioe'd from ther fu’st that I were goin’ ter do ye, even ef I didn’t risk sp’ilin’ my game a-talkin’! ‘Now, s’pose ye climb down out ov that saddle, fore a few inches cv hungry steel or spelters ov lead gets a chaince ter help ye along!” His mocking words to Sweetsie Smith frozen om his lips, Perdido made a fruitles effort to throw off the tightening coil. Wholly unexpected, coming at amoment when the way seemed open for escape, the sudden turn of affairs dazed him, rendered him almost incapable of thou ht or action. 1 ragged nearly from the sad‘le by Bravo Brice’s steady tug- ging at te lariat, at times on the verge of bein® un- Seated by the restless mov'men s of the mustang, the «port felt that it was useless l.nger to struggle aainst adverse fate. Then, at the ve y moment when the star of hope had sunk the lowest, Captain Redblace siuggled \o his feet, his dark eyes glowing rec ly. At sight of the c>ief alive and apparently but lit- tle the worse for the bullet from his revolver, a feel- ing of intense rage flashed over Perdido, rousing bim: from his apathy an‘ instilling into him a burning de- sire to escape and to carry to a complete con.um- mation his work of vengeance. ; “Shoot him, Cap; shoot ‘im afore be kin work anuther brace on 1 abe gang, ther di ty cuss!” grated weetsie Smith, gingerly applying a sadly sciled *kerchief to the little that remained cf the lobe of his leftear, ‘Orturn ‘im loose at me, Cap, till I wipes bim out! Reckon he’s spiled my purty mug from now till the toot ov ole Gabe’s trump; ‘sides, look a Pete, thar—odds he never zits up! Ef Ion y hed a chaince, “ Ye'd cut yer lucky, jest es ye did once afore ter- night!” sneered Heavo Brice, half-turning to face the 1ed-bearded desperado. “Jest hol’ that bell- wether clapper o’ yourn till I give it lief ter wag, or off goes thet other ear, ye bow-legy: d traud!” Listening coldly to the w«rds of hi, lieutenant, Captain Redblaie turned his eyes from the face of the sport to a critical thougi: :e mingly careless survey of tne surrounding road-agents, ! All with weapons drawn, their eyes glowing and rugged faces expectaut, under the shadowy li-! t of the torches ihey lent force and form tothe grotesque scen:—ase n>: worthy the pencil of a Dore in its in- describable wildness and weirdness. Before Bric - had ceased speaking, a rasping snore was heard, and Poker Pete st. ugeled to a sitting pos- ture | is face fai ly convulsed with rage, :is hands. groping biindly at his belt as if in search of u wea- pon. The rext irstant, so quickly that the act could. not be prevented, his revolver was drawn, : aised, and fired point-blank at the heart of the sport. A sudden reelin , swaying motion ont part of the latter prece ied the fla h sm@ repo't by the frac- tion of asecond. Then--how was it? ‘The Jariat. f ner tumbli ¢ Bravo Brice backward in a way far eneath the dignity of so lordly a ruffian, while Per- dido, just a leg and an arm showing above the sad- dle, with a sharp thrust and jangle of bis Mexican. spurs urged the mustang swiftly out of the circle of light and at a bre kneck run on d wn the pass! “Out of the pan, and out of the » re!" uttered Captain Redblade, as he sent shct after : hot at the fleeing captive Then hu'riedly as h° returned his weapons to his belt, ‘*No use to waste your ] pards—he’s out of range! Bice remount half yo men and see if you can‘trun him down, If not, strike our trail and follow hot-foot. We'll break camp in an hour. And turning, the masked chief strode away up the ass. “ Ye heer thet. galoots!” cried Bravo Brice sha ly. ‘* You,: mith, drop yer dancin’-master airs an help pore Pete byar inter canp, An’ you, an’ you, an’ you” —with a jerking inclination of his head to each man addressed, until six men had been told off —‘* straddle hoss an’ foller me. We'll fetch Mister Free Lance ter & rope s end, or bu’st our Dilers a- tryin’ ter get ’im thar! With more or less of growling and cursing, the men singled out for the pursuit of Perdido turred away and hurriedly selected the fleetest horses from the number ridden down the pass, then held them- elves in readiness for orders fr. m the lieutenaxt of the band. ; Sweetsie Smith, still fuming, and cursing like a trooper—a perfect vessel of wrath and indignation —assisted Poker Pete to bis feet and helped him toward the camp. baht Meanwhile, Brice, with a torch held aloft in bis left hand, and his right grasping the severed end of the lariat, stared with beetling brow and moody face at the latter object, his expression one of doubt and indecision, ‘*Cain’t see through et, durned ef I kin!” he muttered, uneasily turning the end of the rope in is fingers. ‘I was jest ready to take m ible oath that Poker Pete's bullet snapped ther thing in too, but ther cut aire too clean ferthet. No, et must ‘a’ been done ‘ith a knife—but where? Not ther , sn lla i ae eee