Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 510 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

as « 14 n, turn and commence business as soon as you ike.” This was certainly fair enough and Slender Bud expressed himself to that effect, then he wheeled about, strode his hundred paces, drew his revolver, and again faced the half-breed. Cool Colorado was ready for him, his revol- ver out and the hammer raised, The two were about a hundred feet apart, within range of such powerful weapons as the antagonists carried, for both were armed with the ‘‘navy” size revolvers so common on the frontier, not the toy-like tool which is usually carried in the midst of civilization. A moment the two faced each other, and then their weapons slowly rose, and at precisely the same moment both pulled triggers. Fortune favored the plainsman. Slender Bud’s weapon missed fire and Cool Colorado’s bullet tore through his chest, inflict- ng. a mortal wound. he gambler gave a single gasp and then pitched torward on his forehead. The fight was ended. Crooked Pat O’Neal and Missouri Johnny ex- pressed themselves as being satisfied and said that as their pard had fallen in a fair fight they bore no malice. But to wind up their careers now, we will state that this event brought them in such evil repute in the camp that they were forced to sell out the Silver Moon Saloon and seek fresh fields in which to operate. CHAPTER XVI, ON THE TRAIL, THE dering attempt to capture the mine had failed, but the scheme suggested a good idea to Cool Colorado. He was anxious to follow on the track of the murderer of his pard, but had been bothered in regard to how he should arrange his affairs so that the mine could be properly work- ed during his absence. Now the way was clear. He ‘‘ bonded” the mine—that is formed a joint-stock company to work it, letting Big-nosed Smith and his friends in fur shares, By this means he preserved Williams’s half all right, and provided for the working of the claim while he was away. This scheme too also raised ample money to enable him to follow on the track of the fugitive. Cool Colorado had done a little detective busi- ‘ness in histime, and he had guessed the dodge adopted by the assassin to baffle pursuit The white blaze in the forehead of the horse and the ‘‘ three white stockings,” had been deftly produced by the aid of paint. By merely washing the paint off the whole ap- pearance of the animal was changed. The man was probably disguised too; the beard and hair were false, and by removing these the fellow became a different-looking man, The half-breed’s first move was to seek the toll-gate keeper on the Alpine road and get a description of all who had passed on horseback on the night of the murder. By this time the toll-man had thought over #be matter and refreshed his memory, and now told a different tale to that which he had deliv- ered to the miners, Five horsemen had nassed that night, three strangers and two men with whom he was ac- quainted. From the description of the strangers, and their beasts, it was plain to the half-breed, now so earnestly playing the part of a detective, that none of them could be the man he sought, But one of the two whom the toll-man knew rode a chestnut horse, ‘‘nary blaze or white ae though,” the man declared. Cool Colorado remerabered the fellow the mo- ment the man mentioned his name, although he was only acquainted with him by sight. Captain Nick Spader he was called, and he had asmall claim away up in the mountains, where Pine Creek rose. Spader wasa man wellin years, with a griz- zly gray beard and hair of the same hue, but he had a pleasant-looking face and a soft and win- ning way with him. i His reputation was an evil one, though, for he was an inveterate gambler and a hard drinker, and it was commonly believed that at some time im his past life he had been the captain of a desperate band of law-breakers; in fact, so lit- tle did his neighbors think of him that he was more often called ‘‘Old Nick” than anything else, The moment that Cool Colorado learned that this man bad passed through the toll-gate on the night of the murder, the suspicion came to him that he was the assassin, Cool Colorado, the Half-Breed Detective. a i meee a ee ee eee a a i ae re ————-—rmillatl, tc Cll lll LL LL LLL LALLA Straight then to the captain’s claim in the mountains went the half-breed. As he anticipated, Old Nick had departed. He had sold out his claim, saying that he was going to the Pacific Slope. ‘““That means that he has gone in exactly the opposite direction!” Cool Colorado exclaimed to himself, ‘‘He has gone East, undoubtedly, and I must follow him. Then I shall be able to kill two birds with one stone, for in the East I will look for Williams’s daughter.” Knowing that he was likely to be gone for some time, he sought a farewell interview with the blooming Polly. The girl protested that she would be true to him, no matter how long he might be gone, and, satisfied with this assurance, the half-breed de- tective took up the chase. In Alpine he easily got on Captain Nick Spader’s track, heard of him again at Salida, and again at Pueblo, for Old Nick was heading to the eastward, despite his statement that it was his intention to go to the land of the setting sun. And in Pueblo, by accident, the tracker ran across a railroad man who knew Spader well, ‘‘the durndest biggest thief and scoundrel that ever escaped a white jail!” to repeat the graphic description given by the man of the steel rails. He had been on board the train which had earried Old Nick from Pueblo, and Captain Spader had a “ limited” ticket ‘‘ right through to New York.” To New York then, the sleuth-hound hurried as fast as the iron horse could carry him. In due time he arrived in the city. During the journey he hac procured a map and easily located Central Islip, a small hamlet on the Long Island Railroad, In great Gotham the half-breed detective quickly realized how hopeless would be the chance of his finding the fugitive by depending upon himself alone and so he sought the aid of the pay department. The superintendent received him _ politely, listened to his story of the murder of Williams —his suspicions in regard to the slayer, and promised to put detectives on the track at once. Making a memorandum of the particulars the chief remarked: ‘* Did I understand you to say that you think Wiliams was not the right name of the mur- dered man?’ ‘‘ Yes, sir, for on the inside of his money- belt I found traced the name of Blareomb.” ‘* Blarcomb—Blarcomb!” remarked the super- intendent in a reflective sort-of-way, ‘‘ that’s an odd, uncommon name, and it strikes me I have heard it before, and in connection with some man who was wanted too. ‘* Let me see!” The superintendent unlocked one of the rivate drawers in his desk and took out a huge 0k, filled with newspaper clippings pasted in with written memoranda attached. It was carefully indexed and the official soon found the name he wanted, ‘* Ah! yes, here it is, Blarcomb! I thought my memory hadn’t played me false, although it is twenty odd years sincelsaw the name. The affair happened when I was a ward detective.” Then, turning to the page, the number of which was opposite to the name, the superinten- dent refreshed his memory by reading the newspaper clipping pasted in the book. ‘ Yes, yes, 1 remember tbe affair now as distinctly as though it only happened yesterday,” he said, after he had finished his perusal, It created quite a commotion at the time. ‘‘This man, Blarcomb, was a bank cashier— one of the trusted fellows, you know, who was so honest that none of the men whose duty it was to watch him ever thought it necessary to examine into the correctness of his figures, and the usual result followed. Mr. Blarcomb was among the missing one morning, and when the bank officials came to look into his affairs, they discovered, to their horror, that he had not only used up some fifty thousand dollars in cash, but, in his flight, had taken away securities which could be easily turned into money to the tune of sixty thousand dollars more. ‘: Immediate pursuit was given, but no trace of the man was ever discovered, and if was sup- poses that, in some clever disguise, the fellow ad managed to escape to Brazil or some of the other South American countries. ‘‘Oh, he was a daisy, this John Alexander Blarcomb!” Cool Colorado started slightly. ‘‘ Why, Williams’s name was Alexander!” he exclaimed. And then he gave the chief an account of the «+ 4 5° at a od sid -« a= ~ - » ee * W'feas s bs te - ii ted eRe . : 7! . ’ bd £ - AD 5 i $ a . Yr PNY « Gi ig a i. i ag ei x ’ ae ' . ss J , - * es . = : J : ~~ ; *. —————————— LLL cc last moments of the old man, of his confession, and the request regarding his daughter Kath- erine. ‘* That is my man!” the chief exclaimed. ‘In this account, it describes him as a widower with a baby daughter named Katherine. ‘But I say, what on earth did the fellow do with the sixty thousand dollars’ worth of secur- ities, and he must have had five or six thousand dollars’ worth of cash besides?” ‘*T don’t know; 1 never saw aught to indicate that he was particularly well off; but this con- fession, which he wanted me to attend to, and which the assassin carried off, might throw some light on the subject.” ‘‘ Yes, it might. Suppose you go down to Central Islip and see if you can find the daugh- ter,” the superintendent suggested. , “Tt may be possible, you know, that the man who did the murder may have placed himself in communication with the girl, for he couldn’t have the slightest suspicion, you know, that a Western man like yourself was hot on his track.” ‘It isa good idea, chief, and I will attend to the matter at once.” Cool Colorado was as good as his word, and a few hours later he got off the train at the little Long Island village. Ot the undersized, dried-up old man who was in charge of the railroad station, Cool Colorado inquired if he knew a Miss Katherine Blar- comb. ‘‘ Oh, yes,” the station-master replied, imme- diately, with a curious glance at the stranger. ‘Yes; yes, ’ve known Kate Blarcomb ever since she was born, and ber mother before her, too. We used to go to school together. ‘‘ Were you acquainted with the Blarcombs?” ‘‘With Mr. Blarcomb—John Alexander,” the detective replied. ‘“T s’pose you know how he got into a heap of trouble ’bout twenty odd years ago?” the sta- tion-master observed with a mysterious air. “The bank affair you mean?” “Yes, wasn’t it awful? But, do you know, folks ’round here didn’t take much stock in him, anyway !” ‘Is that so?” ‘‘- Yes, although he used to put on a heap of style. e married his wife in this town. Mou see he came down here to board one summer —_ that is how he came to be acquainted with er. ‘*Then, after they were married, he bought a place up on the Sound shore at Smithtown, and there Katherine was born; but her mother on] lived a week or two after the birth of the child, and that kinder made Blarcomb disgusted with the Smithtown place, so be shut it up and went to live in New York, leaving the baby to the care of his wife’s folks down here. “Then came the smash-up and John Alexan- der took French leave, and nobody has ever seen or heard of him since.” ‘‘- You are wrong there, for I met him in the West; he died only a few days ago, and I have come to bring to his daughter the particulars of his death.” ; ‘You don’t say!” cried the station-master in amazement. ‘‘Ard did you come from’way out éé Yes.” « _— you know Blarcomb’s brother George?” ** No. ‘* Strange you didn’t meet him, for he has jest come home from ’way out there somewhere,” the old man remarked, speaking as though the | ** West” was like a small hamlet, where people would be likely to encounter one another. ‘*The West is a pretty big country.” ‘* He’s from Californy—been a miner and come home rich, and he is going to take care of Kath- erine now; jest like a play, you know, his com- ing, for no one bad any idee that there was sich aman as George Blarcomb. ‘You see, he ran away from home when he was a boy—went to Californy, and stuck there until he made his fortin’, and now he’s come. Kast to enjoy it. “T calculate that Kate wasa mighty aston- ished girl when this uncle turned up. CHAPTER XVII. THE UNCLE. A suppEN suspicion bad taken possession of the half-breed detective’s mind as he listened to the words of the station-master, ‘What sortof a looking man is this George Blarcomb?” he asked, aI OOR OS chap, with jet-black hair and a short beard, but I calculate that both on ’em are dyed, for he ain’t no chicken; and he’s got an easy sort of a way with him more like a a Na +s ae * PS ‘ } y* «vee, ‘ ‘ae wf "Fabs an . 5 ann -- wn