Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 515 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

It was such a night as even the most rugged | mountaineer would not have cared to be abroad, for not only was the storm chilling: to the bone, / we one was liable to injury by the flying mis- siles. At Pistol Pocket the streets were deserted, but within-doors all was warmth and gayety, the Grand Pacific Hotel and saloon—the on one in the camp—beimg particularly owe: both with local residents and ‘* pilgrims.” Pistol Pocket is a mountain-surrounded val- ley, to which access can be gained by only one route—a deep, narrow pass descending through the great range, and known as Pretty Pass. Except by this route it was impossible for horsemen or vehicles to reach the prosperous town in the pocket. Through some secret influence with the Gov- ernment authorities, a wide-awake mountaineer known as Mountain Mose had obtained permis- sion to establish a toll-gate midway in Pretty Pass and exact a toll-fee from all who wanted to go in either direction over the route. cabin had been built on oné side of the pass and a log-barn directly opposite on the other side, and between these two structures hung @ ponderous gate, which prevented any one from ene without first ‘‘ coming down” with the toll As travel to and from the Pocket was quite large and daily eapcelg ry | and as the toll was twenty-five cents per head, man or beast, it will at once be seen that the shrewd mountaineer’s profits were something handsome, Then, too, he had another source of revenue quite frequently. The gate closed for the day invariably at | six P. M., and, no one was permitted to pass | through under any circumstances. | People coming from the Pocket had the alter- | native either of turning back to the camp or pene | up over night at Mountain Mose’s Hotel. | ravelers en route for the Pocket city, and ar- | riving at the gate after six o'clock, had no alter- | native but to stop at the hotel or camp down over night in the pass. | Thus Mr. Mose had « ‘‘corner” in the travel- ba ri - Plis hotel could scarcely lay pretensions to | being one, from the fact that the cabin com- prised only one room of large dimensions, . Arranged along one side were two tiers of single cot-beds, which altogether were capable . of accommodating about a score of guests. . On the onposite side of the big room was a fire-place, and a dirty-looking, ill-stocked bar. The only other furniture consisted of a few stools and deal tables. As no meals were served at the ‘ Hotel Mose,” no restaurant facilities had been pro- vided. Mountain Mose was a black-bearded customer, villainous of aspect, and a very giant in size. ‘Tn Pistol Pocket, he was regarded as a full- proof desperado, and few there were who did not stand in awe of him. Since establishing himseif at the pass, if was believed that several moneyed guests had been made away with, but there was little or nothing of actual proof. On the evening of which we write, when the wind howled through the pass, and the rain dashed a the window panes, three men sat at a table in the toll-gate house, with a bottle and glasses before them. One was the proprietor of the shebang, Moun- a tain Mose; the other two were equally as villain- ; ous looking toughs—ruffians of the worst type, whose belts bristled with deadly weapons, Se 7 All three evidently had been imbibing of the contents of the black bottle. ‘‘T tell ye, boys,” said Mountain Mose, with a hiccough, “I’m sort of a p’ilos’pher in my way, and ef you’ve any notion o’ tryin’ the job, we need ter go mighty keerful, or the worms ll hev a feast on ye, afore a month passes by. As Mayor of Pistol Pocket, as well as owner of it, that cuss, Deadwood Dick, has got a strong graft, and a lot of friends.” ‘We don’t keer a cuss for that!” declared ‘Pete Pigeon, one of the party, and sometimes known as The Strangler, from the fact that he was reported to have strangled several persons ho had incurred his enmity.’ : “Bf ther cuss has got a few friends, he has got enemies, also, whord inter Kingdom Come—I fer one. ) freely givin’ others a show.” & An’ I, too!” declared Bill Monk, ss bodied men out. ‘Cause they won’t go to work ia the big mine, | fer day wa like ter see him kicked He ain’t got no more right to lord et over ther town than I - hev, an’ fer one I’m in fer removin’ him, an’ the third He’s a cussed monopolist, an’ he orter Thar’s a half-hundred able in the camp, out o’ work, and why? . <a + ot ' ' Z - _ = } 7 iP yt - r : : “ - : ~_* ah ‘ e Zt, wie? f o\ ~~a ee “iv, > Meal: 5 f - 5 ' - rr . Deadwood Dick’s Protegee. es—starvation wages, at that—and be bossed about by this Deadwood Dick, and his superintendent, Jerry Justice. Et ain din’ to their notions be ruled free country. The boys ain’t goin’ to join a n’t accor- | the tavern, while Pete by a king in this ; charge of the horse. “Nary open! Heer, Pete, come an’ put away the hoss!” Sir Clyde se spate dismounted and ener | igeon went out and took » Once inside, in the light of the fire, it was per- union, ner be compelled to join one, in order to | ceptible that Sir Clyde Carleton was an unusu- earn a livin’? when thar’s plenty o’ room in Pistol | ally handsome young man, twenty years of age. Pocket whar they could pitch in fer themselves, and turn an honest penny, without being forced | ter submit to boss rule!” ‘‘Right ye aire, Monkey!” asserted Pigeon. ‘¢- You’re head’s level. Dick aire goin’ to king et over us, not ef he has got two hundred miuers to back him. He’s got | tac ter go!” | ‘Waal, boyees!” spoke up Mountain Mose, | “T allow et ain’t fair the cuss should monoper- | lize ther hull profits o’ the pocket, but he’s got big backin’, besides bein’ able to wipe out a dozen men hisself. So et would be next ter | madness fer a few 0’ ye ter tackle him!” “That ain’t our lay-out, at all!” Pigeon | averred, ‘‘ We've got a plan that beats that!” | ‘* What is it?” ‘‘Oh! we've got it fixed so two of us can do him, and that, too, to-night!” ‘*To-night? Where?” ** Here !” Mountain Mose shook his head. | ‘‘Not here!” he said grimly. ‘‘ There’s enuff | bad report afloat about this place—to make it : sick for me, ef everything were known, so no | more ov that fer me.” ‘“Pshaw! that’s nothin’. What if there is half a dozen stiffs in the well beneath this room? There’s room fer another. An’ we say | thet Deadwood Dick gets his just deserts right | hyer, to-night. Ef you know when yer hide is skin, you won't kick ag’in’ it, neither!” “Dye mean that fer a threat?” Mose de- manded, | ‘Waal, sorter!” Pigeon replied. “‘ Ef ye go ter kickin’ too much, inquiries might be made as ter ther secrets of this shebang!” Mountain Mose made a quick reach for his | revolver, but before he could draw it, he was | covered by the weapons of both Pigeon and | Bill Monk. | “Oh! we're on ter ye,” Pigeon sneered. ‘‘-Yer a good man, Mosey, but no match fer us. Now, then, do we hev ther privelege 0’ this | ranch, to-night, or do we not? Jest answer | that, ef you please!” What the answer would have been it would be hard to say, for at that instant there came a loud and peremptory knock upon the door, which caused all three ruffians to start to their feet. CHAPTER II. THE FATAL TRAP. Wuen the knock came upon the door, Pete Pigeon and Bill Monk exchanged glances full of significance, and the latter said in an undertone which did not catch the ears of Mountain Mose: “Thats him!” - As for Mose, he gave a grant and growled out: ‘¢ Some cuss as wants to get through the gate, I suppose, but he’ll get left!” : nate a lantern, he went to the door and opened it, | Outside was a young man, mounted upon horseback, and thoroughly drenched with rain. “Hello!” he saluted. ‘* Will you open the gate, sir, so I can get through?” “‘ Not much!” Mountain Mose replied, —— This gate closes for the night at six, and don’t open ag’in til mornin’ !” ‘But, my dear fellow, I am wet and cold and want to get through to the camp to-night!” “Can't help that. Never break the rules, un- der any circumstances! fore.” ‘¢ But, see here, all night. Open the gate for it.” “Don’t want yer money. This hyer’s a hotel, and ef ye wanter stop over, ye kin, pay fer yer accommodations! | anyhow?” ; a name is Sir Clyde Carleton,” was the reply. e. i Oh! ye’r’ a blarsted Englisher, aire ye?” ‘‘T am an English gentleman, sir!” , ‘‘Humph! Every Britisher that comes over heer sets hisself up asa gentleman. Wal, aire ye goin’ ter come in or not?” 7 Have you accommodations for my ‘hhorse?” ‘Well, then, I suppose there is nothing to-do but stop over, if you won’t open the gate!” | I can’t sit out here in the rain and I'll pay you well o aire ye, caster LL ALA No ‘cuss like Deadwood | and stamped with intelligence, | bar. Oughter come along be- | rvidin’ ye some four-and- He had a graceful, willowy figure, almost woman-like in its contour, and was well-dressed. His face was full and handsomely chiseled with a fair com- plexion, sparkling blue eye, a pleasant, mus- he-shaded mouth and curly blonde hair. Plainly he was a person of good birth and breeding, hard at contrast with the rough toll- gate keeper and his associates ‘*Reckon you'll be better off here than ef oud went on ter Pistol Pocket!” Mountain ose observed. after he had looked his guest over from head to foot, and noted that he wore a costly diamond pin. ** Most we matte is welcome, such a night as this!” Sir Clyde replied, glancing at the sur- roundings, curiously, ‘‘ How far is it from here to Pistol Pocket?” ‘A matter of four mile, as the crow flies.” ‘And may I ask how it is that you keep the gate closed after six o’clock?” ‘Waal, ye see, ther country back a piece is infested with road-agents, and the gate is kept shut to prevent ’em from a night raid an’ a rush into the Pocket, where they could raise a heap of devilment!” This appeared to satisfy the young English- man, and he immediately sought the fireplace, d proceeded to dry himself, When he kad partly succeeded in the opera- tion, he said: ‘““ Well, landlord, what can you get me up in the way of something to eat? Iam as famished as a wolf,” ‘We don’t keep nothing to eat ’round here!” Mose allowed. ‘‘ The stage brings me up what grub I need every morning, and so I never bother with any other stuff. Got some prime proc whisky, tho’, ef that will do you any ‘‘ Well, that’s better than nothing,” Sir Clyde said, ‘‘as I am rather weak, after a long jour- ney. So give me a nip!” And so saying, the youn to the bar, behind which sided. A long black bottle and a glass were placed before the traveler, and he poured out a good drink and raised it to bis % Before he could toss it off, however, he felta touch upon ‘his arm, and turning, beheld Pete Pigeon and Bill Monk standing alongside the man walked over ountain Mose pre- ‘See heer, young feller,” observed Pigeon, * et strikes me you’ve forgot something, haven’t ou “Not that I am aware of,” Sir Clyde replied, with evident surprise. ‘‘ What is it I have for- | gotten?” | “ A stranger in these parts, ain’t you?” ‘*T am, sir.” : * Tho’t so!” “Well, sir, what of it? What do you want?” This time the baronet spoke haughtily. And Pigeon and Monk then fnaghed uproar- foualy. while old Mose joined in. “Well, durn my cats if you aivta greeny Pigeon allowed. What ‘ye expect, except a | drink? Et’s customary in these parts that when 'a man drinks he don’tidrmk alone, but sets "em up fer the boys. ’Cordingly, et’s rulable fer you to invite us to wet our whistles.” “Indeed?” And Sir Clydelooked the contempt he felt. ‘‘ Well, sir, as 1 do not happen to be a resident of your delectable country, I cannot comply with your customs!” “Oh! ye can’t, eh? Well, now, me bloomin’ Britisher, you will,.or you'll get the worst wal- lopin’ you ever bad in your life. For instance, how do you like that. as a foretaste!” | And hauling off, the ruffian gave the English- man a thump beside the head. Sir Clyde, of course, was staggered, but, with a quickness that was Surprising, he dashed the 199 contents of his glass into Pigeon’s eyes, and his, wide-open mouth, half-choking him with the vile liquor, and almost blinding the sight of both eyes, ore pain must have been excruciating, for he went howling about the room at a great rate. ‘Heeding not, Sir Clyde wheeled around j in time to dodge a terrific blow from Bill Monk and to give him one, in return, which sent bim to the floor. Sir Clyde then turned to Mountain Mose, who © ‘Seuyl 4 ust