Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 519 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

as At one side of the room, with his back to the wall, was a huge, brawny man, who was dressed in a complete suit of buckskin, and looked more like a hunter or scout than a miner. His face was covered with a luxuriant brown beard, and from beneath a wide brimmed bat, down upon his broad shoulders fell a mass of brown hair, making his appearance somewhat lion-like. A look of rough, good-natured hon- esty beamed in the depths of his deep blue eyes. In his hand he held a revolver, and although weapons were visible in other bands, it was evi- dens he who had fired the shot. Several roughs, headed by Big Burg, con- fronted the man against the wall. Every man had drawn a weer Upon the floor between the man at bay and the rough lay a man as he had fallen when he was stricken down by the flying bullet. It was a strange scene. ‘¢ Surrender, you blamed ole murderin’ houn’!” cried Big Burg, flourishing a revolver. ‘“* Sur- render, or by blazes we'll fill you full o’ holes! We'll pile ernuff lead inter you ter sink ye ter ther bottom o’ ther sea! Come in, you ole cur!’ The old man laughed derisively. “Ter Halifax with yer!” was his contemptu- ous reply, in deep, heavy tones. ‘‘ Surrender— nothin’! Why blame yer eyes! who yer talkin’ to anyhow? Ole Bumshell surrender! Ghost 0’ ther Pan Handle! ye'r’ crazy as er bed-bug!” ‘Don’t be er fool, ole man! We’re five ag’in’ ye, an’ we mean business,” the spokesman 0 the rouch declared. ‘‘ You hev killed Slim Jim, an’ we'll hang ye fer ther bloody work. You had better give in.” ‘“Why, durn yer homely mug!” exclaimed Old Bombshell, explosively. ‘‘ Didn’t I lay out ther blamed long-legged varlet in self-defense? Do you s’pose ther Border Boomerang w’u'd stan’ still while ther gol-danged galoot used him fer er target? W'ot yer bowlin’ roun’ heer fer, anyhow—?” Oh, let Up on yer gab an’ throw down yer weppins! e ain’t er-goin’ ter fool with yer any longer. You've done murder an’ must suf- fer fer it. Slim Jim war my pard, an’ [ sw’ar his death shell be mene ” ‘‘ Waal, you’re ther blamedest goldinged on- reasonable son ov er Chinaman as I ever did see! Thar lays ther shootin’-iron aside ther fel- ler, jist as he pulled on me. Plain case o’ self- defense, an’ still ye’r’ howlin’ fer my gore. Mor’n thet, ther chap ain’t half-dead. I only jist creased him, an’ ef he ain’t all right in ther mornin’, I’ll chaw my ole hat fer fodder.” At these words there was a mevement of sur- prise among the roughs. Big Burg dropped down beside the fallen man, and after a hasty examination, said: ‘‘ Jim ain’t dead yet, but he’s that bad hit as he may die—ther chances are ag’in’ him, It’s er plain case o’ attempted murder, and ther at- tempt may succeed. e don’t want no murder- ers aroun’ hyar, an’ ther best way ter take care ov them is ter hang them ter ther nearest tree. Hey; boys?” growl of assent came from Big Burg’s ruf- fianly followers. “Ye see, ole man, everything are ag’in’ ye,” continued Big Burg, turning to the “ Border Boomerang.” ‘* You attempted bloody mur- der—” ‘‘Oh, fer Heving’s sake, do chain up on thet!” snorted Old Bombshell, ‘‘ Didn’t ther durned galoot pull er pop on me?” ‘‘ But you provoked him—” “Only jist knocked him down,” interru ted the big man, with a good-natured smile. ‘* Ther sassy long-shanks called me er liar, an’ then I dumped his apple-cart. Like er fool, he got mad at er littla fun, an’ war goin’ ter sling cold lead. I knew sumbuddy w’u’d get hurt, so I jist cooled him off.” ‘‘ An’ ef he dies, you'll be a murderer,” per- sisted the big rough; ‘‘so throw down yer guns an’ cave, or we'll take ye.” —_ Old Bombshell laughec derisively. “Oh, cum an’ take me! We’ll hev er gentle leetle scrimmage heer as it will be deelighful ter witness. Ghost o’ ther Pan Handle! but won’t it be er cirkiss!” The Border Boomerang seemed anxious for the fray. Cass ye!” gritted the bully; ‘‘ we'll give yea cirkuss in ther air at ther bottom eend o’ er rope. Go fer ther bloody whelp! Down him, boys! Come on!” ig Burg leaped toward Old Bombshell, a knife glittering in his hand. But he a over Red Robin’s extended foot and fell flat upon his face on the floor. The next instant the ruffian’s followers found themselves gazing into the dark mouths of Red jn fee * ¥ tae ne ™ eS Captain Mystery. Robin’s revolvers, and as the Reckless sprung to Old Bombshell’s side, he cried: ‘ Come on, gentlemen! Walk up and take your medicines. Don’t hesitate a moment.” The roughs paused in surprise. Here was an | unexpected turn in affairs, The sudden way in which their leader had measured his length on the floor somewhat astonished them; but the red-breasted man’s leveled revolvers had more effect in halting them than anything else. Upon old Bombshell’s face was a half-smiling look of defiance; and their new adversary’s eountenance was marked with a look of reckless indifference to any peril or danger. Noinferior foeman did they confront when they faced Red Robin and the Border Boomerang! Swearing like a pirate, Big Burg arose to his feet, still grasping the murderous-looking knife in his hand. f crouching, as though to leap forward, he glared fiercely at Red Robin, his pase lips drawn back from his wolfish-looking teeth. But one of the red-breasted man’s revolvers covered the bully, and although he longed to leap at the Reckless’s throat, he dared make no such attempt. Old Bombshell, although somewhat surprised by the stranger’s interference, did not seem startled in the least. He smiled broadly as he saw Big Burg slowly por, to bis feet after that heavy fall; but the smile quickly changed to a look of mock concern, as the big rough faced that way. ‘‘ Did it hurt ye much, bub?” the Boomerang inquired, seemingly with anxious interest. ‘‘ You sh’u’d be careful whar ye step w’en y’e’r in er hurry, my lad.” Big Burg paid no heed to the mocking words, but with his eyes still fastened on Red Robin, gritted out: ‘Curse yer hide! you shell pay fer thet leetle trick with yer life!” A careless laugh of amusement came from the lips of the -breasted man. Without the least hesitation, he lowered his revolvers, speak- ing uietly: me y life,eh? How do you propose to take i Before replying, Big Burg thrust the knife he had drawn into its sheath. Then, as he suddenly jerked out a revolver, he cried: ‘In this way! Move a finger and down you ! It seemed that Red Robin had foolishly lost the ‘‘drop,” and that the ruffian held him at his mercy. Some of —. Burg’s companions had ‘‘ covered” Old Bombshell, and thus he was prevented from interfering. “Now, darn your hide!” growled the bully. ‘“‘T swear by the holy poker P salt ye!” Red Robin laughed with scornful recklessness. “ Shoot away, you big coward!” he exclaimed, contemptuously, ‘I'll wager something you can’t hit my breast at ten paces. More than that, ta gad such a cowardly cur that you dare not re His words seemed to sting the rough to still fiercer anger. With an evil light of determi- nation in his eyes, he took aim straight at the taunting man’s breast, and said: ‘‘Get ready! I swear I am going to fire! When I count three I shall pull trigger.” “Then take good aim,” calmly advised Red Robin. ‘If you should miss, your reputation as a shootist is gone.” ‘“ An’ ef he hits—” gasped Old Bombshell, now somewhat alarmed. ‘But he won't hit. He can’t hit a fair-sized barn-door at twenty paces.” “Ob, I can’t, bey?” proved Big Burg. “ Wait jest a minute an’ Pll show ye.” Big Burg was known to be a crack shot with rifle or revolver, and each one of his followers feltcertain that if he fired, the red-breasted man would fall dead. If Red Robin thought to shake the bully nerves by his taunting talk, then he failed flatly ; for, taking a steady aim at his red breast, Big Burg called out: 4 eady, now! I’m goin’ ter count—” ‘Say, interrupted the Reckless, “* you let me do the counting and you attend to the shooting. One—two—” A gasp ran around the room as the spectators caught their breaths. Then, clear and distinct, came the final word: ‘“* Three |” Almost simultaneously the revolver in Big Burg’s hand exploded! Then, to the amazement of’ every one, instead of dro ping dead in his tracks, the red-breasted man te here before them, to all appearance, unharmed. a A mocking laugh burst from his lips. ‘x ‘pale Soe: ve cua a et ee ee 4 Sf, “ Sages ec seat er? UII Th ais x ee ‘“‘ Missed, as I knew he would. Friend, yow can shoot a little bit.” ‘Thunder an’ Mars!” exclaimed Old Bomb- shell, in astonishment. Big Burg was fairly astounded. He had aim- ed fairly at Red Robin’s scarlet breast, and had shot to kill; yet there before him stood the strange man, unharmed. A gasping exclamation of astonishment came from the bully’s lips, and for a moment he shrunk back as though in fear. Then Red Robin’s voice sounded sharply: “Our turn now! Don’t attempt to lift.a weapon! The first man who tries it on eats cold lead!” His revolvers were up and leveled now. So were those of Old Bombshell. In their amaze- ment at the unexpected result of their leader’s shot, the roughs had lost the advantge they had held. Red Robin and the Border Boomerang now had them at an pk Old Bombshell smiled blandly. “Rayther got ther deadwood on you folks, now ain’t we? Takin’ every thing inter con- sideration, I rayther think we’ve er pair 0’ Lis- bon yarthquakes, done up in small bundles. Ef you fellers fool aroun’ us, ye’r’ apt ter fall inter sorrer.” Big Burg had now partially recovered from his astonishment, and had fully regained his: composure, Slim Jim, who as yet showed no signs of re turning consciousness, had been dragged away. “You've got ther drop,” Big Burg admitted. * But Pi tell ye one thing—that red-breasted cuss dassen’t fight me, man to man, fair an” uare.” ‘Now, don’t get such a conceited notion into your head,” replied Red Robin. “I dare to meet ycu, but do not want to have anything to do with a villainous ruffian of your stamp.” ‘Bah! You take water! You're scared! I dare you to meet me face to face.” “‘ Name the weapons.” ‘“ Knives!” hissed the bully, savagely. “Correct,” and from somewhere among his: clothes the Reckless whipped out a slender knife. Without a moment’s hesitation, he ad- vanced toward the ruffian. With a hoarse growl of savage delight, Big Burg again drew forth his murderous-looking knife and sprung toward his foe. Red Robin paused, repared for the onset, and. the bully crouched a few feet away, ready for a spring. Pe Now,” he growled, “‘ I'll carve ye up so that yer mammy w'u’dn’t know ye. Oh, Tl jist cut ye all ter pieces!” His fierce words elicited a derisive laugh from the red-breasted man. The next moment they met, knife to knife. Then for a few moments the spectators saw an exhibition of knife-play that held them spell- bound and breathless. But it only lasted for a few moments; then Big Burg reeled back witha deep gash in the shoulder and a cut across the right wrist. Robin was unharmed. Bitter curses broke from the bully’s lips, ““ Whoop-ee!” shouted Old Bombshell, as he witnessed the result of the combat. ‘ Ernuther feller’s got his medicine! By the Roman gods, pard! you jist kin handle er carver!” Suddenly, from some unknown source, a Voice cried sharply : ‘‘ Capture the red-breasted man! A thousand dollars to the man who takes him alive! He is Captain Mystery, the road-agent !” rom whose lips these startling words came, no one could tell; but they produced the effect intended. One moment’s hesitation—then a dozen men sprung forward to seize Red Robin. Still grasp- ing the slender knife, the Reckless fought them 0 Right into the thickest of the fray sprung Old ° Bombshell, his huge fists knocking the assailants like ten-pins. “Whoop! hurray!”? he shouted, striking sledge-hammer-like lows right and left. Heer’s. whar ye gits yer money’s worth! Walk up an’ take yer rations! Ghost o ther Pan Handle! but ain’t this jist sweet fun!” For a time the two desperate men held their assailants good play; but finally they were borne backward, and it seemed that they must soon be overpowered. ; Then from the lips of Old Bombshell came a short, sharp whistle. Once, twice the Boomer- ang whistled, then there was a crash of glass, a through the broken window came a Sues animal-a large dog! “At ‘em, Lion! Sic ’em, ole boy!” shouted Old Bombshell.