Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 589 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

3 i 4 visor, and the banded tail curling around the cap like a plume. He was unlettered, but he was naturally shrewd and keen-witted, and had gathered a vast store of information in the years he had spent on the Western trails and ranges. In ad- dition, he was quick in action, and daring to the verge of recklessness. 6 had given bis name as the Texas Tom-cat, and seemed uncommonly proud of the appella- tion. “Thar’s a cy} more things than you'll find writ in books,” he remarked to honest John Mitchell, as the twain set with chairs tipped back against the wall, in the shade of the cabin that hot afternoon. ‘‘ The letterson a Chinee tea-chist air powerful plain to them ’as kin read ’em, but they ain’t no plainer than the tracks a villain’s boun’ to make when he’s at his vil- lainy. The tracks air like the letters on the tea- chist. °Tain’t everybody kin read ’em. ‘‘Now thar’s somethin’ crooked about this hyer shootin’ scrape. What it isI can’t jist make out, but thar’s a mam comin’ acrost yon- der who kin read it easier’n a heathen kin jab- ber Chinee.” A horseman had mounted a swell in the wind- ing trail, and was limned clearly against the sky-line as the Tom-cat pointed toward him, ‘T’ll jest step out that way an’ give him the number of my hotel.” Ten minutes later the horseman, in turning a spur, was assailed by a series of screeches and caterwauls: ** Mariar! Mee-ow-ow!” ‘*Oh, dry up, Tom-cat!” he cried, reining in. ‘Come out from behind that rock. You can’t startle me with your howling; I’m used to it.” Yhus adjured, the Tom-cat stepped into the trail, a broad smile lighting bis homely face. The horseman was none other than Bruce Brentwood, the famous detective, on the pres- ent occasion the partner of the Texas Tom-cat, On this trip he was trailing an embezzler, who had fled to the wilds of Silverland to escape ar- rest, and had persuaded the Tom-cat to leave the Texas ranges long enough to accompany him on this man-bunt, ‘*Seen anything of our game?” he asked, as the Tom-cat advanced, ‘‘ Neither ha’r ner claws!” was the character- istic reply. ‘‘ But, ole man, thar’s bigger game afoot, or I ain’t a Tom-cat. I jest stepped out hyer to kind o’ warn ye. [ve hung up acrost yender at that cabin, an’ if you'll jest go over there [ll talk—er git some one to talk fer me, An’ as fer chuck, thar’s a gal thar ’at kin set out sich vittles that adead man ‘u’d have to eat! Bruce Brentwood smiled at the cowboy’s en- thusiasm, and jogged along leisurely in his rear. Molly Mitchell came in just as they reached the cabin, and there was a general introduction and hand-shaking. It could be seen by any one that the cowboy was desperately enamored of the fair Molly. He blushed and coughed, and bit off a ‘‘ meow,” which, as he hesitated for words, his lips uncon- sciously formed, ‘*So the wind lies in that direction!” thought the detective, as he noted the Tom-cat’s evident confusion, ‘I don’t suppose, though, that that can be the game he spoke of.” **Now you go righton an’ tell Mr. Brent- wood what you know about this ’ere case!” said Mitchell, in his blunt way, speaking to his daughter. ‘‘If Lrightly ketched on to what the Tom-cat said, he’s the man tocl’ar up the pint we war talkin’ bout!” ‘Yes! Miss—hem, Miss Molly! Go right aheal!” urged the Tom-cat, who delighted in listening to the music of her voice, ‘* We'll kind o’ berd around the aiges an’ see that you don’t get lost from the trail,” Molly blushed slightly, as all eyes turned to her, and plunged at once into her narrative, “Straight asa string!” declared the cowboy, enthusiastically slapping his knee, as she con- cluded. ‘* Now, I put it to you: Ain’t that as bad as hoss-stealin’?”’ In the eyes of the Tom-cat, horse-stealing was the "age crime that could be committed. ‘Which?’ asked the detective, as et ge as & judge. “The fact that the girl had a lover? ere are several parts to the story, you must remember !” The cowboy gave him a reproachful look, as he answered: “The killin’, o’ course! You know well enough what I wnean. It’s a sin, I reckon, cause I can’t sling words quite as straight as some other folks. “If words were ropes, now!” with a sly Mariar! Sp’t, sp’t, sp’t! Meow! Tom-cat and Pard. glance at Molly, intimating, perhaps, that if they only were, there would be a rosy-cheeked girlin that vicinity with a matrimonial noose around her neck almost before she knew it, ‘*You could handle them as well as any- body!” said Molly, putting in an oar, to relieve the growing embarrassment, ‘* Ay, that he could, ll warrant ye!” declar- ed honest John Mitchell, ‘‘ These ’ere cowboys air master-hands with a rope,” ‘*Thankee! Thankee, most kindly!” said the Tom-cat, wiping his flaming face with a big red handkerchief. ‘‘ I do b’leeve it’s the hottest day lever see! Lizzards war jest a-cookin’ out on the rocks, when I come along awhile ago!” ‘* There may be something in this case!” said the detective, thoughtfully. ‘‘ The only suspi- cious circumstance, so far asI can see, is the sudden burial of this young man. I would like to look into it; but, really, friends, I have other fish to fry just now.” ‘* Let ’em simmer awhile!” shouted the Tom- eat. "Twon’t hurt’em! Jest think of a youn a actilly a-dyin’ over this hyer—h bana d yore of her lovyer, and mebbe he ain’t dead at all, Mebbe he’s jest a-waitin’ som’eres, with open arms to—to—” He glanced toward Molly and again colored to the roots of his hair. ‘*To lead her with the bridle!” he spluttered, trying to extricate himself from the deep water into which he had floundered. “To the bridal!” corrected Molly, again coming to the rescue. ‘* Well | knowed it had somethin’ to do with a hoss!” snorted the cowboy, once more mopping his face with his flaming handkerchief, ** If Clifford Curtis is not dead,” continued the detective, smilingly, ‘‘ then Edgerton has some reason for trying to make the world think bim dead—that is if Edgerton really had a hand in the burial. ‘““You say that the Gold King was in jail when the burial took place?” ‘*'Yes!” replied Mitchell. ‘Were the men who had charge of the re- mains—supposing them to be such—in the pay or confidence of Edgerton?” “‘T don’t know as they were! The Gold King had no dealin’s with any of ’em, that I ever knowed on, ’cept Hank Hammond, the gambler. He used to play cards with him a good deul, As fer frien’s, I don’t think that £6: Apel had more’n a fistful in the bull town. e warn’t a man to make frien’s.” ‘*Tt may be that this Hank Hammond maneu- vered the thing for Edgerton!” Brentwood re- plied, after a moment’s thought. ‘The young man may not have been killed by the pistol- shot; and Edgerton may have wished the world to think him dead and so spirited him away, fearing to finish the job he had megan. ** And, yet, that don’t look at all reasonable, If the young man is not forthcoming, alive, Edgerton will be bung, I suppose!” ‘* You bet he will?’ ‘* Then if he must suffer for the crime of mur- der, why would he try to make the world think he had committed such a crime, if, in truth, he had not?” **It’s too deep fer me!” confessed Mitchell, shaking his grizzled head. ‘‘I never war good at guessin’ riddles; an’ ef that ain’t one then I’m an owl!” Molly had withdrawn from the little company, and now announced that supper was in reall ness, ‘“*]T ain’t the least mite hungry!” declared the Tom-cat, who had not yet ceased to mop his heated face, ** Why what’s the matter?” asked Brentwood, laughing. ‘‘ You were bragging, only a little while ag0, about what excellent food this house afforded. That was your principal argument in inducing me to come here.” ‘* That ’ere feller didn’t eat a mouthful, at din- ner!” avowed John Mitchell, solemnly. ‘‘ Nota mentee though I scolded at him the hull me.” ‘* Ain’t a-feelin’ so extra good aroun’ my giz- zard!” protested the Tom-cat, ‘‘ The vittles is ood, Pll take my affydavy on that;—ain’t no tter to be found nowhar! But, gentlemen, I ain’t a-feelin’ jest right fer eatin’! and seeing that furtber peeeones was intended, he pick- ed up his catskin cap and bolted through the doorway. ** Couldn’t stand it, no way it c’u’d fixed!” he asseverated, as he reached the trail. ‘‘ Some men kin eat with wimmin-folks aroun’, but I jest can’t! An’ sich wimmin-folks!” He broke into a run which soon carried him into the ee street of Silver City. x..*' Ain’t had anything to eat sence mornin’!” Sefe eis eT ty Fe 4 - rad % “A wag ; “ x “ son ee a» aes a os 4 “ | ie hls D an + 4 ~~ va} . uy . r rm on yx } « -_ s ~~ —-_7 - « .y px. 7s Le i -— i he growled. ‘I'll jest step into a eatin’-shop an” fill up fer a week. I'll board at Miss Molly’s but T’ll do my eatin’ in town, even ef they do put brother tom-cats into their measly sassiges!” CHAPTER V. BRENTWOOD ON DECK, ‘“* HELLO! who’s that high-toned galoot comin” acrost yender? Looks like he mou’t own the hull camp an’ the mountains throwed in! Some blasted spec’lator, Pl be boun’. Ef [ war loose frum this job I'd try to round ‘im up fer a game o’ keards. Them critters is allus got more money ’n they know what to do with; an’ so they oes aroun’ contin’ally a-saltin’ it down in wu’th- ess holes inthe ground, Tharfore, I think it’sa man’s reeligious duty to relieve ’em of the dust that worrits em so much, Money’s tbe root 0’ all evil; an’ they ought to divvy up fer the’r own good!” ‘‘ Blinky” Smith, the jailer, peered through the little window of the Silver City jail, that looked out on the street, and snapped, more rapidly than ever, the convulsive lids that sbield- ed bis ratlike eyes. Bruce Brentwood, the detective, in the garb of a well-to-do business man, was picking his: way carefully across the stony street in the di- rection of the jail. He had at last consented to take in hand the case that seemed so full of mystery. So far as he could see there was no money to be gained by it; and the case temporarily abandoned pro- mised big pay. But he was not in the habit of looking whoily at the money side of the a ques- tion, when there were cruel wrongs that de- manded righting. He had visited Liiy Edgerton and her heart- broken condition had appealed so strongly to his sensibilities that he determined to go to the bot- tom of the affair. : “Ef the nigirsteneeD galoot ain’t a-comin”™ hyer!” declared Blinky, half-blinding his eyes. with another flutter of winks. He drew back from the window and advanced) to the door as Brentwood rapped upon it with his gold-headed cane. , ‘* Brentwood is my name!” said the detective, thrusting a card into the jailer’s hands, ‘‘ Bruce» Brentwood, broker, and dealer in rea] estate and mining property. T came to see Mr, Philip Ed- gerton on business. I learn that he has—ab, ahem—been guilty of a little indiscretion that may make it necessary for him to negotiate- uite a loan. He can offer gilt-edged security, understand, for any sum he may wish to raise. If he wishes to sell the Edgerton Mine I could: also accommodate bim in that way, perhaps.” Blinky Smith winked at the bit of pasteboard,, turned it over in his hands, and then replied: ‘‘Tt’s rayther ag’in’ orders to let any one in, boss. I'll bave to s’arch ye, to see that ye don’t: kerry any tools in yer clo’es, Not that I don’t: think you’re squar’—fer I do; but orders is. orders, ‘‘ The Gold King mou’t pay some one to fetch: ‘im somethin’ er nuther to cut out with; fer I don’t mind tellin’ you that this shootin’ bizness: is likely to go hard with him.” ‘*You think he is guilty, then!” said Brent- wood, coolly helping himself to a chair, The detective was not in so great a hurry to: visit the Gold King but that he could stop to- pick - any stray crumbs of information that. might lie in his way. ‘* Ain’t a bit o’ doubt of it!” the jailer replied. positively. ‘‘ Thar’s been thousan’s 0’ men hung on less ev’dence.” ‘‘What is the evidence, if I am allowed to: ask?” demanded Brentwood, handing Blinky a fragrant cigar and lighting one himself, ‘* Waal, it’s *bout as straigbt as you ever git sich things. *‘ Tt’s gin’ral knowlidge in the town that Ed- erton war down on the young feller, desp’rit, er snugglin’ up to his darter. Curtis war his sup’rintendent, an’ he discharged him that. mornin’ an’ sent word to all the mine-owners not to hire the chap, as he war boun’ an’ determined to run ’im out o’ the country. They do say, too, that the Gold King threatened to shoot ’im on ae ‘‘That night Edgerton caught ’im out in the- grove makin’ love to his darter; an’ he downed him.” * Did you witness the shooting?” ‘‘No; but i war on han’s as soon as the larm war raised, and helped to ’rest the old gent. He war jest ravin’, frothin’ wild, I tell you. Had to clip him over the head witha shooter afore we could put the irons on ’im|” ‘“‘ Was this young man—Curtis I believe you rsaid—was he instantly killed?” *“* Dead as a door-nail! ay =< Bee , 4f 4 ' Los . ~ We Newt ; ee ae 2 " thaw S45: P a if me! . ved * Ds any ru 4_ce ik @ > Me I don’t reckon he eee ee =... 4. _ ee : — ee ° — ———— — gn i lt