Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 527 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

fs * Ty. ar ' fa If there was one thing in his personnel in which he might take a justifiable pride, it was the silken hair that fell to his shoulders in lus- trous lines of beauty. ‘** For thee, sweet Miriam!” he said to himself, as, having taken from a receptacle which was a combination of grip-sack and saddle-bags a small mirror and pair of scissors, he haggled the ends so as to resemble the awkward work of an amateur hair-cutter. ~ Watching this proceeding, Steve Salter re- flected within himself: ‘*Thar stan’s a sharp as is up to some mis- chief, or I lose my guess; an’ hyar sets a blamed fool as has helped him to it. hat’ll I do with these hyar ornery things, I want to know? That thar sharp has done me in a way I despise!” In the midst of these bitter reflections, the door of the shanty opened abruptly, and a pip- ing voice called out: ** Hallo, gents! What’s this hyar, I want to know?” Jack Downing whirled round with the start of a man caught in the act. A moment he stared wrathfully, and then his face suddenly relaxed, and he exclaimed with evident delight: “By Jove! Just my size! Come in hyar, you ornery leetle galoot!” CHAPTER IX. A KNOWING ‘' KID.” Wuat Jack saw was a head thrust in through the half-open door, as if its owner was war of trusting his precious person within the reac of possible enemies without previous reconnois- sance, This head was made up of a shock of yellow hair anda face the predominant expression of which was that blending of shrewdness and im- pudence called ‘‘ cuteness.” What struck Jack was, that the head was about the same distance from the ground as that of the beautiful Jewess would have been, under like circumstances. In a flash he conceived a scheme that altered all his plans, whence his bluff salute, in keeping with his assumed character, his disguise being now complete. : ** Who in Cain be you?” demanded the urchin, eying him trp ** 1m a galoot what carries a lot o’ these hyar things around in his pocket,” answered Jack, producing a handful of coins and tossing them into the air. The alert eyes followed their flight, and the shrewd face broadened into a grin of delight as they fell into Jack’s palm with a musical clink. ‘Hi! Them’s jolly!” cried thé piping voice. “How'd ye likea few, jest fur to jingle?’ asked Jack. * You git out!” said the urchin, with an air of injured dignity. ‘‘I reckon you ain’t the only sport as kin flash them things.” **T call you, pard! Show up!” ‘Waal, you’ve oversized my pile, I do allow. But that ain’t nothin’.” ‘Come in hyar, an’ I'll divvy with ye.” ‘* No ye won't.” ‘* But I say I will.” “What fur, I want to know? ‘You don’t owe me nothin’.” ‘* But that ain’t sayin’ that I won’t before the day’s out,” ‘What do ye want o’ me?” ‘** Come in hyer, an’ I'll open up.” ‘Oh, yes! You ketch a weasel! with a sar- eastic wink. , ‘* What air ye afraid of? Won’t Steve Salter stand by ye?” The urchin looked at Steve inguiringly. ‘* Come in, you blame fool!” wasSteve’s rather caustic invitation. The urchin opened the door a little further, and slid in cautiously, standing however with his hand on the latch. He proved to be a boy of just the size demand- ed for Jack’s perror. : “If Pd had the making of him, he couldn't have been better!” was Jack’s internal reflec- tion. In dress he was a nondescript. <A ragged flannel shirt, designed for a fair-sized man, draped his diminutive figure in folds that sug- gested an elephant’s skin, the too-great length of sleeve having been remedied by the simple method of tearing off the ends. A man’s trows- ers, SO large that the waistband girt his bod just below the arm-pits, were suspended by a bit of rope Over one shoulder, and knocked his heels 12 heavy rolls at the bottoms, The only other thing about him, barring the dirt which nature supplied gratis, was an indescribable piece of ~) becrs » Rae ee eee eee i ts. : “— * . The Jolly Pards to the Rescue. felt, ‘“without form and void "—of any remains of a band, which did service as a hat. ‘* Waal, you want a new suit, an’ you want it bad!” observed Jack, looking him over critic- ally. ‘**'You’re another!” was the prompt response, Jack laughed. ‘*Say!—do you know?—I cotton to you. Who air you, anyway?” “The Kid,” replied the boy, somewhat molli- fied by this outspoken friendliness, ‘¢ Of course, an’ a mighty sharp one, too. But that ain’t a name. What’s yer name?” ‘* Kid,” repeated the urchin. ‘‘ Ef that don’t suit ye, gimme another,” ‘*Never!” cried Jack. ‘‘ That suits you down to the ground, an’ you bet it suits me too.” ‘What air Mb growlin’ about, then?” asked the Kid, sturdily. Jack tossed him a coin, saying: ‘Take that fur yer sass!” He caught it asa dog snaps at a piece of meat; and it disappeared somewhere in his raglan as the meat vanishes in the animal’s maw. ‘*“You pays yer money, an’ you takes yer choice!” he chanted, with the pert readiness of a street Arab. ‘Whom do you belong to?” asked Jack. ‘We, Us & Co.!” **Eh? Who's yer father, 1 mean?” The Kid answered with a wink, ‘**l ain’t that child, boss.” What child?” “ The wise one.” Jack laughed. He had seen sharp boys be- fore, but not one that impressed him just as this one did. ‘*Got ye thar, eh?” chuckled the Kid. ** Whar do you live?’ proceeded Jack. ‘* My residence,” replied the Kid, throwing himself back with a pompous air, and hooking his thumbs in the arm-holes of his shirt, ‘is whar I gits my wasbin’ done; but I votes whar it'll do the most And he patted cantly. ‘* But whom do you live with?” ‘* Nobody—not stiddy,” he added, by way of exactness, ‘* What do you mean by that?” *‘ Waal, the boys lets me shake down in a cor- ood,” his trowsers-pocket signifi- ner when I likes; but I takes mostly to elbow- |, room, I does, myself.” ‘‘And do you mean to say that you knock about the camp without any home?” ‘* That’s about the size of it, boss.” ‘** Haven’t you any mother?’ ** Any which?” And the Kid looked up sharply, as if this were an unusual expectation. ‘* Any mother,” repeated Jack. The Kid laughed, ‘* Waal,” he said, ‘‘ef yer humble sarvant ever sported ary sich incumbrance as that thar I "low we must ’a’ divided the pot between us at a very early stage o’ the pee ‘** What's that?” asked Jack, curiously. ‘The ole woman must ’a’ took the inside o’ the house, an’ give yer humble the outside,” ex- plained the Kid, gravely. ‘* Is there no one at all to look after you?” ‘Only when I gits away with a side o’ bacon, or some sich matter.” ‘* And then they don’t find you, P’ll bet!” said Jack, falling in with his humor. ‘* Nixy!” replied the Kid, with evident pride. ‘** And it’s because of the outstanding grudges for odd bits of bacon and the like, that you're so wary?” ‘* It stands a leetle chap in hand to be fly.” **But the boys don’t hurt you if they catch you?” asked Jack, with a feeling of pity. “Waal,” said the Kid, somewhat dubiously, ‘* that jest depends.” And he glanced down at his ‘‘ unmention- ables” as if with the remembrance of an occa- sional ‘‘ dusting,”’ . ‘Td like to catch a lubberly galoot hiding a mite of a kid like you fora beggarly piece of bacon!” cried Jack, with generous indignation. ‘‘What’s that to you?” demanded the Kid, with spirit, as if repelling an imputation against his fellow-townsmen, Jack turned to Steve Salter. ) ‘‘Ts that so?’ he asked. ‘Is nobody answer- able for him?” ‘**T reckon not,” said Steve. ** And suppose I was to offer him a little job with money in it?” **'You make yer terms with him.” ** And nobody bas a word to say?” **T reckon not, ef he’s satisfied.’ ‘* But whar did such a waif come from?” ‘That (’'m free to say I don’t know.” ‘‘ How did he get into this camp?” ** A foot.” cee no one knows anything about him aft } ‘*T reckon not.” ‘Whar did you come from?’ pursued Jack, turning back to the boy. ‘* Up Sutter’s Mill way.” ** And did you live there as you do hyar, with nobody belonging to you?” ‘* Si Stebbins useter back me thar,” ** And who was Si Stebbins?’ ‘**T reckon he was jest Si Stebbins, that’s all.” ‘* But what did he do?” ** Drink mostly—an’ fight,” added the urchin, as an afterthought. ** And what became of him?” ‘* He got one.” ** Got one?” ‘¢ Whar he lived.” *“* He was killed?” ‘*He was planted,” said the Kid, as if this might be accepted as fair evidence of the man’s h eath. ‘* And who before Si Stebbins?” asked Jack, ‘‘T say, boss,” observed the Kid, with an abrupt break in the dialogue, ‘‘ain’t it gittin’ a long while between drinks?” And by way of a hint as to his sean, © he oe the coin that had been given to him, lliped it into the air, caught it deftly, and be- stowed it again, with the lightning-like move- ments of a slight-of-hand performer, somewhere in the folds of his raglan. ‘* Misery loves company,” he added. Jack laughed, and tossed him a companion iece, ue I disremember,” he said, answering Jack’s question as if there had been no interruption. ‘‘And so this is your life history, as you know it?’ said Jack, again sympatheticall ‘‘Oh, my!” responded the boy, with a sarcas- tic groan, It was evident that he was not discontented with his lot, . ‘*'You are ver ready with that mouth of ours,” pursued Jack. ‘‘I wonder if you know ow to keep it shut.” dag: ‘‘ When thar’s danger of gittin’ it slapped,” answered the Kid, ‘*‘ and—” _ He pares and looked so knowing that Jack m, ‘* When it pays!” . ‘* Do you suppose that I’ve Se enough money to secure that result by the latter method?” ‘*Tt’s a purty good-sized mouth, so it takes more buttons than it would ef it wasn't so big. Show us yer pile,” said the Kid, coolly. Jack displayed four quarter eagles in gold. ‘‘ [Pll hev to bury it,” observed the Kid, re- flectively. ; Then, with the positive air of one who was used to making prompt bargains, he concluded: ‘That'll do.” “That ain’t all,’ added Jack. ‘If we make the riffle, Pu ive you something better to do than knockin’ about stealin’ yer grub an’ sleep- in’ outdoors.” The Kid looked at him shrewdly. His disguise was perfect. He had alread made his hands and face look like those of a weather-bronzed miner. Besides, he had been careful that his speech should not betray him. ‘‘ When I git the rocks, you won’t owe me nothin’,” answered the Kid, as if he did not in- tend to count upon this promise. So the bargain was struck. ‘‘ An’ now, pard,” said Jack, turning to Steve Salter, ‘I want you to take this byar leetle chap to the nighest sheeny, an’ rig him out in Christian style.” “This hyar’ll be a daisy camp,” responded the knight of the rueful countenance, with a melancholy shake of the head, ‘“‘ef you put us all in bran’-new outfits!” “T draw the line at my friends,” laughed Jack, Steve looked as if he would have replied, ‘‘ Save me from my friends!” if he had been fa- miliar with the quotation. __ But the Kid here asserted his own dignity. ‘* Look a-hyar, boss,” he interposed. ‘‘ I reckon I kin do my own shoppin’, at furdo you ‘low to tie me to a gran’mother?” 7 ‘*But who will sell you a new outfit?” asked ack. ‘Ole Mose’,” replied the Kid, not catching his objection. ‘Oh, yes!” exclaimed Jack, who newt ‘* He’s likely to believe that you've got the roc to pay fur ’em.” ‘Won't I flash the shekels? An’ what’s the reason he won’t come down?”