Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 519 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

el ore. ods, pard} I reckon ole Lion an’ the Border Fioorharas war jistin time. It raythur look es ef we didn’t poke our noses inter this heer game any too suddint-like. Blamed ef ther pesky snake wasn’t goin’ ter stick ye!” The speaker quickly cut Red Robin’s bonds, continuing burriedly: ‘*Spect you thort ther ole man had gone back onto ye, pard, but: he ain’t made o’ thet kinder stuff. Thort they’d laid ye plumb out fer good w’en I see’d ye measurin’ ther floor with yer karkiss. Ole Bombsuell never w’u’d desarted ye ef he hadn’t thort ye was er gone coon, fer he’s—” But Red Robin interrupted him with a ges- ture. “Say no more, friend. You did right, and even if you had not, this little piece of work more than balances it— But this devil, here— His life is mine! Call off your dog!” ‘‘Basy, pard,” interrupted the Boomerang, following with the exclamations: ‘‘ Hark! Lis- ten! By ther Roman gods, mate! they’re comin’, critter-back an’ red-hot! Out! out! or we're in er trap!” Half-pushing, half-leading Red Robin, who attempted to turn back, Old Bombshell suc- ceeded in getting him through the door, just as the two kidnappers, bearing the unconscious form of Sylva Blair, dasbed by. They both saw that one of the horsemen held what seemed to be a large bundle in his arms, but in the dark- ness, they could not distinguish what the bundle was, More to hasten the horsemen’s flight than for any other reason, Old Bombshell called out for them to halt, then sent several bullets whistling harmlessly after them. ‘Ha! ba! ha!” laughed the Boomerang. ‘‘ Thet jist sets ’em er scootin’, Nothin’ like ther zip o’ er bullet to hasten er leggin’ man’s pace. tel hasten him rite erlong.” “Did you notice the bundle one carried? I wonder what it was? It looked like a woman’s lifeless form.” ‘¢Blamed if it didn’t! an’ them fellers acted jess as ef they’d been kort stealin’ sheep. Hang it! there was suthin’ wrong— Ghost o’ ther Pan Handle!” The exclamation was caused by the speaker catching a glimpse of a shadowy form skulk- ing along in the dark shadow of the huts upon the opposite side of the street. Even as he cried form, fo owed by the zip-chug! of a bullet as it passed his head and buried itself in the logs of the jail. Almost instantly, Old Bomshell answered the shot, and there was a cry of pain that told that the bullet had not gone amiss. Then the shadows seemed to resolve them- selves into a score of dark forms that came charging down toward the two men by the jail, yelling and firing as they came. Other dark forms bounded out of the now open doorways of several cabins and joined in the charge. ‘¢ Thunder’ an’ Mars!” shouted Old Bombshell. ‘‘Heer they cum, a clean little million of ’em, jist er gnashin’ their teeth fer our gore. — This way, pard; foller me,” and whistling to his dog he dashed around the corner of the jail, closely followed by Red Robin. ; Up in their path rose a man, firing as he arose. Old Bombshell felt the stiag of the bul- let as it grazed along his right side, but kept right on, his huge fist knocking the man end over end before he could re; eat the shot. Behind them came the crowd, yelling like demons. They ran but a short distance when they came to where two horses were ‘standing. One belonged to the Border Boomerang, the other, to his great joy, Red Robin recognized as his own black stallion. As they leaped upon the horses’ backs, Old Bombshell thrust a rev¢ y} Le: into the red-breasted man’s hand, saying quickly: ** Take ’er, ber you'll need ’er.” Then, quick as a flash, they wheeled and charged directly back toward their yelling foes. Old Bombsell, with his hands untrammeled b the bridle-reta, held two revolvers, Which seemed to crack almost incessantly, the weapon In Red Robin’s hand filling up the pauses. Taken by surprise by this unexpected move, the pursuers scattered right and left, although still firing an eccasional shot at the horsemen. — Right back by the jail and down the main street of the camp dashed the two daring men. “Bafougs Hurray!” shouted old Bombshell. ‘‘That’s the way ter doit! Blowed if we didn’t scatter ‘em all over the east eend o’ ther camp. Pard, yng Pte bow it is now ter run ergin’ er cupple ’o Lisbon yarthquakes in disguise.” out, a hie of flame shot out from the dark | | Captain Mystery. “Bombshell,” cried the red-breasted man, “I must have my weapons, I think the bartender at the Clarion House has them.” ‘*'You shell have ’em,” was the quick reply.” “ You go in an’ get ’em, while I keep ther yellin’ curs atbay. Lively, pard!” They drew up in front of the Clarion House, and flinging himself from the saddle, Red Robina rushed into the bar-room the night was in progress, and the music and shuffling feet drowned any moderately loud sound coming from the bar-room, which was now deserted by all but Small, the bartender, who was nodding in a sleepy manner. When the door was hurled open, Small was aroused, only to find his brain covered by a go back in disguise, but where to procure the disguise is wuat bothers me,” ‘“T hey w’ot you want,” declared Old Bomb- shell, ‘‘ jist ther very thing.” ** You?” in surprise, ‘“Yes,me. Ye see thar war er detective chap /as cum heer on er little business, an’ fallin’ in ' with me, stopped at my shanty. He had er The final dance for | host o’ disguiges, an’ when ther feller wot he | war after wiped him out, why ye see I fell heir revolver held in the hands of the,man whom he | supposed to be at that time a safe prisoner In the | jail, It was a complete surprise for him. “My weapons—lively now! I want them!” hissed Red Robin, a burning glare in his dark eyes. ‘Produce them, or by the heaven above us, I'll kill you where you sit!” Small was not a coward, but the light he saw gleaming in the speaker’s eyes warned him that to trifle then meant death. He turned to where the weapons were lying upon a shelf, a warning word from the Reckless causing him to pass over the revolvers with the himself, When he had secured his trusty weapons, ted Robin backed to the door, still holding the barkeeper covered. A moment later he joined Old Bombshell, just as he opened fire upon the pursuers, who had recovered from their defeat and were now hastening after the escaping prisoner and his assistant, ** Jist in time, pard,” cried the Boomerang, as Red Robin leaped into the saddle. ‘‘ They’re cumin’ red-hot an’ still er-heatin’! Now we're off,” and .he uttered a yell of defiance, as they dashed away. Some of the pursuers were mounted, and such as were came on after them, urging their horses to their fastest speed. Both of the fugitives were mounted upon magnificent horses, and they had little fear of their success in escaping. ‘‘ Heer ’em yell,” said Old Bombshell, as they galloped along. ‘‘Snarling like a pack of wolves!” grated Red Robin. ‘* Let them snarl; their prey has escaped them. Ha!” he exclaimed, as a bullet sped dan- gerously near his head. ‘“* That fellowis getting a little too near for safety.” Half-wheeling in the saddle, he fired a single shot over his shoulder. The horse of the fore- most pursuer went down in a heap, flinging its rider over its head, “ By the Roman gods, pard! but you do sling lead kinder keerless like!” exclaimed Red Robin’s companion. ‘‘ Blest ef ’d want ye ter use me fer er target! You’re too durned keerless! Jess as likely es anyway you'd hit er feller fu’st off.” ‘‘The wolves have stopped,” said the Reckless, as he looked back, paying no attention to Old Bombshell’s words. ‘‘It is useless for them to pursue us; we could soon lose them in the dark- ness. I suppose by this night’s work we shall get our name up. They will probably proclaim us outlaws.” ‘*Let’em proclaim! Ghost o’ ther Pan Han- dle! S’pose er feller’s goin’ ter stan’ ’round an’ let half-a-dozen of them blamed galoots wipe him out! Durn their hides!” ‘* They may not go far enough to call us outlaws. It was only the rougher class who were engaged in the affair. Faton Stone is at their head, I think.” Old Bombshell nearly fell from his horse, but finally he succeeded in gasping’out: ‘‘ Raton Stone—who’s him?” *% My deadly foe—the villain who had his fin- gers at my throat and a knife suspended over my heart when you came to the rescue!” There was no touch.of anger or excitement in those even tones, yet the voice had a cold, hard sound that startled Old Bombshell. It was some momeuts before he spoke. ‘*T didn’t take er peek at ther critter ter-nite, an’ all | know erbout it are that, to my knowl- edge, there’s no Faton Stone ’round here.” The Reckless did not reply at once, and for some time they rode alon Seoarh the darkness in silence, Old Bombse]l leading the way. At their horses’ heels trotted Bombshell’s big, faith- ful dog, Lion. They were making their way into the hills. Finally Red Robin spoke: “T shall go back to Bowlder Bar. Faton Stone is there, and he is the man I am after.” ‘“But you ain’t er-goin’ back now, pard?” cried the Border Boomerang, quickly. ‘* You w’u’dn’t think ov et!” “Not to-night. It would be useless, I must muzzle toward | eee ee we, tO Ea ee eee een meter to his traps an’ hev got ‘em now.” ‘*Good! Without doubt I can find just what I want among them. But your shanty—where is it?” ‘‘Up heer among ther hillsa piece. Itarea desarted cabin as I run onter w’en I struck this part o’ ther kentry. Ive lived thar ever since,” They turned into a narrow defile among the hills, where it was densely dark. Old Bomb- shell led the way, and without attempting to guide his horse, Red Robin followed, allowing his stallion to follow Bombshell’s horse. For quite a distance they proceeded in this manner and each moment the defile grew narrower and narrower, darker and darker. Suddenly the defile Gebouched into an open- ing of some kind—in the darkness, Red Robin could not make out exactly what. He followed Old Bombshell across the opening to where a small cabin stood at the base of an abrupt as- cent, ‘‘Heer we are,” Bombshell announced springs ing tc the ground. “Light, pard, ‘ligbt.” The Reckless dismounted, and taking both horses by the bits, the Border Boomerang led them away to his ‘‘ pasture,” as he called it. In a few moments, he returned and led the way into the hut, Red Robin following. A eandle was quickly lighted, and the good~- natured voice of the host was heard: saying: ‘* Make yerself ter hum, pard, Things ain't quite ser nice as they might be, but then, you know how it are, yerse!lf.” Red Robin saw that the room was scantily and rudely furnished, but this was as he had ex- pected, Old Bombshell ‘‘ bustled things,” as he ex- pressed it, and quickly had a meat of cold bread, meat and water upon the table. Then he in- vited his guest to ‘‘sot up an’ fill.’ After they had eaten, the two men sat silently thinking, exchanging scarcely a word. Old Bombshell had lighted his pipe, and was sending out heavy clouds of smoke. Through these clouds, Red Robin caught occasional glimpses of his companion’s face and he noticed that it looked very grave, even gloomy. Finally Red Robin threw himself upon the bed of blankets and skins in one corner of the room. Old Bombshell was still sitting, silently thinking, a deeply moody look upon his face, his pipe, which had now gone out, held in the lon fingers of his large yetshapely hand. ToR Robin it seemed as though there was something strangely familiar about the man’s face—a face that it seemed he had seen atsome time in the dita past. Where, be could not tell.” Old Bombshell was still sitting, silent and moody, when Red Robin fell asleep. CHAPTER V{Ii. FARO KATE FIRES A SHOT. “Cum, pard, turn out. Ghost o’ ther Pan Handle! believe you’d sleep all day!” Red Robin awoke to find that it was broad daylight, and that Old Bombshell was standing near by, a good-natured smile on his face. ‘You sleep hard, you do,” declared the Bor- der Boomerang. ‘* Why, bless ye, man! an In- jun w’u'd take yer scalp while ye war er snoozin’ an’ you’d never know et.” ‘‘Tt’s not often I sleep that way,” replied the other. ‘‘ Perhaps the fact that, previous to last night, I have hardly slept a wink for tbree nights had something to do with my sleeping so soundly last night. Usually the tread of a cat will awaken me, ‘‘Thet’s ther way ter sleep w’en yer in er red- skin country—ready ter jump an’ shoot at er seckunt’s notiss.—But, pard, breakfust are ready.” As soon as Red Robin had performed his morning ablution, they sat down to the table. ‘Pard.” said Old Bombshell, as they were eating, ‘I’ve been er thinkin’ over that leetle affair in the bar-room ov the Clarion Howtel las’ nite, an’ ther more I thiuk ov et, ther more it seems as ef et war er putt-up-job onto yer hum- ble sarvant. Can’t get thet idee out ov my ole noddle anyhow. Reckon thet blamed slim- shanks didn’t pick er quarrel with me jess fer ther fun ov et.” : ‘‘ There was certainly something that did not appear upon the surface, to a part of that little _ oy