Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 59 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

“I reckon yer news’ll keep a little, seein’ az how we kin guess part an’ know the rest. Bolly, prepare yerself for a shock. The ole man has gone under at last.” Bolly’s face turned white. ** Pandy Ellis dead! Air ye humbuggin’ me, per he exclaimed, almost piteously. ‘*No humbug, ole hoss! I pity ye too much for that. Yas, Pandy war murdered. It war all on account o’ that proclamation. His sculp air now on its way ter the Indian town, an’ ther feller expects ter git the reward.” Bolly’s face was now stern and hard. ‘* Rally, ye know more o’ this than ye’ve told. Who air the critter? Tell me, an’ az ther air a heaven above, Ill hev his heart’s blood.” “‘Quiet now, Bolly. Thar stands the man who hez Pandy Ellis’s sculp wi’ him!” and, turning suddenly, Roarin ph resented a revolver full at the head of Old Hic tS Beyond a slight start that individual did not seem interested, but could they have seen the — upon his face they would have wondered y. Bolly’s features were working strongly. poe d’ye know this, Rally? Give me good proof before I murder the wretch,” he said. “Thar’s proof as strong as Holy Writ, I reckon. S’arch that leetle bag at his side, an’ ef ye don’t find w’at ye look fur, then rll eat my moccasins. Don’t dare to stir a hand or foot, ye ugly hound!” and the ranger moved the heavy revolver closer to the head of the old white-beard. Bolly Wherrit had sprung forward and torn the little bag that the old pretender carried at his side from its fastenings. To this Old Hick- ory made no objections; indeed, such a course would have been ve me ap with the weapon of Roaring Ralph within a few inches of hisnose. His eyes seemed to follow the little sachel longingly, however. ay ge open, the excited Bolly Wherrit pnere is hand in. Then a choking cry burst m the lips of the veteran ranger, and the others could see his form tremble with keen emotion. Old Hickory moved uneasily, but the reckless ranger kept revolver aimed with a steady hand, so that for him to have attempted escape would have proved a speedy death-sum- mons. After this reg hesitation, Bolly drew out his hand and held aloft an object which one and all could distinguish in the moonlight that crept in between the trees. It was a gray scalp. The silence of death seemed to have fallen upon the little party, and for almost a full minute they stood without moving a hand or , foot. It was as if some wizard had cast a spell over them, under the influence of which all their powers were useless. Bolly Wherrit, the most sorely-stricken of the lot, was the first to recover. Holding the gray scalp firmly clutched in his rigid hand, he turned a upon the man who had carried it with ‘* Hound,” said he, ‘‘is this hyar the sculp o’ Pandy Ellis?” ** Don’t know who yer ’dressin’ by thet sweet name, but a rose by any other name w’u’d smell az sweet az ther—az 1 mean my ole gran’ther used ter remark. He war a wonderful ole man, he war. Why ; gentlemen, I’ve seen ther time w’en that ole—” ‘* Does this sculp te Pandy Ellis?’ thundered the im ioned Bolly. ‘* Now, don’t take on so, Az ter ther sculp, I reckon it did belong ter thet ole rooster once’t, but it seems ter be — now, for possession air nine-tenths o’ ther law, az my ole gran—” “Boys,” and Bolly turned to the othe **Pandy Ellis hez gone under. Now w’at h we better do wi’ this coyote?” ‘“* Leave him to you, Bolly,” answered Rocky Joe, and the rest nodded acquiescence. ‘‘Then ter me belongs the duty o’ avengin’ Pandy Ellis’s death. Now, ye ole reprobate an’ sculp-monger, look me in ther face. What be- come 0’ my chum’s body?” Old Hickory chuck] ‘‘ Thar ain’t a livin’ soul ’cept myself in ther whole world what c’u’d answer thet. He might ask ther night winds but they c’udn’t tell. er rocks hev ears, butno more c’u’d they speak. Air thet enuff?” he said, in his croaking tones. ‘* Boyees, the critter acknowledges it. Arter thet I see no need o’ tryin’ him as he hez con- demned himself. Coyote, ye hev jest two minits ter live. Dare ter raise a d, er so much az wink yer eye, an’ I'll plunge this blade inter yer black heart afore the time air up. Now make the most o’ yer time.” There was acold ring in the ranger’s voice. Beadle’s ee me ee ee ee ee ae os With that gray scalp in one hand, and his gleam- ing bowie in the other, he stood before the doomed man like an avenging Nemesis, his hair, sanded by the hand of time, blowing about his shoulders when a breath of the night wind came sailing over the veh ag The others expected Old Hickory to beg for his life, or at least show some signs of fear, but to their rise he did neither. Indeed, one could almost believe he laughed at this stern, Roman-like attitude of Bolly Wherrit’s. Was this bravado, or something else? ‘* Now, see hyar, ole hoss, I’d like ter bet ye ten ter wun thet I live ter kerry thet sculp ye hold, inter ther willage o’ ther reds, an’ unless they prove treacherous, git ther reward fur it, Th a war ly to this insulti roposal ere was no reply p : Bolly was counting to himself while his keen eyes kept watch on the murderer. “Wal, hang me ef I kin offer ye any better odds. Self-preservation air ther law o’ na- ture, az—az my gran’ther used ter remark. Now, seein’ az you fellers seem ter be in need 0’ sum new clothes, I tell ye w’at T'll do. Bea sorter ter me in ther Injin were? an’ Pll divy wi’ ye, guv ye a buffler-robe, a fox-skin, two beaver-pelts each, an’ wind it up wi’ a horn o’ whisky. Cum, w’at d’ye say, Mister Wherrit?”’ : Bolly’s only answer was: ** One minit gone!” “Wal, bu’st my moccasins ef thet don’t beat ther Dutch! I believe ther critters actually want harf ther reward, an’ thet ain’t fair, arter I hed ter git ther sculp. Now, see hyar, I’m git- tin’ riled. If ye don’t wanter help a feller— ‘“Time’s up! Look yer last on ther blue sky, coyote, fur I’m goin’ ter kill ye,” said Bolly, drawing back his arm to strike The old fellow gave a laugh, and then seemed to spit out some object he had held in his mouth. When he spoke n no man on earth would have imagined it the same person. ‘““Thar’s many a slip atween ther cup an’ ther lip, az ther feller sez. Bolly Wherrit, ye’re win’ old; whar air yer eyes? Ther ole man ez pulled ther wool over ’em! Bu’st my moc- casins ef this ain’t worth living fur. War goin’ fur ter slew hisown chum. He! he! he!” ih u Consternation! Old Hickory no nee the oper of prairie rangers himself—Pandy CHAPTER VIII. THE BIGGEST HUMBUG ON RECORD. For almost a full minute not one of those men moved hand or foot, but stood there like so many statues, glued to the ground with the dif- ferent emotions that overpowered them. Had a bolt of lightning suddenly descended from the clear heavens, or any other equally unlikely event occurred, they could not have been more dumbfounded. As for Bolly Wherrit, he was knocked “ all in a heap,” as he afterward expressed his feelings. To think that he had been about to kill his chum to avenge his own murder! The idea was too bewildering for him to realize all at once; he was dazed. He stood there, with one foot raised, and the knife held above his head. It was as if some mali t fairy had lifted her magic wand, and enchanted them as they stood. owder Flash, being the least interested of the party, was the first to break the spell. Bolly dropped the gray scalp when he made that step toward the supposed Old Hickory, and the chief had pounced upon it eagerly, and had been in- tently examining it, ever since. Just now he made the discovery of a fact that Bolly in his anger had not noticed. **Hooh! scalp more’n six month old. Seen Heavy Knife t moons back. Dis big hum- bar foe !” said he, t old Pandy. ‘“* Bolly,” said he, with a vein of tenderness in his voice, “‘ ain’t ye got no welcome fur me, ole chum?” Another moment and Bolly Wherrit’s arms were around his neck. They were life-long friends and comrades, and r the late scare the corner a received, his emotion could well on Ralph was perhaps the most thorough- ly astonished bh of the pong for he had over- heard the confab of the chiefs, and had made up his mind upon the subject, and when once his view was n, an earthquake was needed to shake his opinion. ‘‘T’m a rearin’, tearin’ thunderbolt from the Colorado canyon, but bu’st my buttons if I ever seen the ekal of thet afore. e ole reptile wid the sculp, thet I looked on as a most unmitiga- te Half-Dime Library. | enna edna teegee ted scoundrel, and thet I sh’u’d be asbamed ter own the rope thet hung him, to turn out to be Pandy Ellis, the prince of rangers! Tar an’ feather me, an’ h’ist me inter a ‘Pache’s grave; I own up dead beat. Ole kimrade, guv us yer Ww. el A won’t cherish any ill feelings “Old Pandy cbuckled aloud as h the andy chuc oud as he hand extended to him. re ‘* Not a whit, Rally, I’ve got ther joke on ther lot o’ ye, an’ kin ‘ford ter be generous. Blue blazes! I’ve fooled ther reds a leetle during my lifetime, but I never ter pull ther wool over Bolly’s eyes thar, by ther aid o’ a hickory nut in my cheek, a new suit o’ buck- in, an’ lettin’ my ha’r grow long all over my ‘ m, boyees, I’m nearly shooken ter pieces wi’ laughter. Squat hyar—we won't wanter do any work for an hour or more—an’ Pandy ’ll tell ye w'at under ther heavings this mystery air about. He’s in wi’ ye hand an’ glove ter aven pore Tom Grampus, but ye must be nigh about bu’stin’ wi’ curiosity, so Pll show marcy an’ expla ~ They hastily followed his example—all but Powder Flash, who preferred leaning a tree, and chewing wom vx at the 8 piece of tough venison, although he listened what Pandy was saying. The old had cached his ancient but dearly beloved rifle and ra Src Bg he tried the beautiful new weapons he sent as a present to him from a young friend and ad- mirer in the East. This was just after Bolly and Rocky Joe had started for New York on a six months’ ae In the start Pandy had made a resolve not to apply a razor or a pair of “‘snippers” as he ed them to his face or head all the time, just to see how he would look when Bolly came back, so that the old man bore a six months’ rop, although he did not seem to like it a bit. hen he returned from his hunting tour, highly delighted with his new-fangled weapons, he found his cache empty; his old rifle was gone. Now there were many dear associations connect- ed with Betsy Jane, and Pandy swore a round oath to recover the old souvenir if it took him a year. e soon got on the track; a Sioux beave had robbed the cache, one named tted Coyote. This was enough for Pandy. Just as he was about to start out alone to demand its return, he came across one of those ‘‘ proclamations” which he read and thrust into his pocket. A plen arene te , which for reckless daring it wo ve n exceedingly hard to have excelled. He set about eit out im- mediately. An entire new suit of buck-skin was purchased, a few alterations made in his eral ap ce, some little ce gone Stecnah with in ge to his articulation, with a hickory-nut in cheek that gave him the most wonderful voice on record, and then Pan- dy was ready. The old prairie ranger had obtained a gray scalp that looked very much like his own when his hair was shorter, and with this trophy secure in his little sachel, he started out on the wildest mission im able. : He ac y intended entering the village of Buffalo Horn, trusting to his disguise to keep his identity a secret, and, sai under the name of Old Hickory, present the gray scalp as the one advertised for. Whether it would be redeemed or not the trapper chief could not say. Roaring Ralph then told what om aad weet a Indians discussing, which seem ckle the old ran- ger, for he laughed aloud. “We'll git ’em all yet, payout, by ther livin’ jingo. Ef we kin play this hyar trick on ther a they’ll keep quiet hereafter, Jest fancy ther pelts an’ powder, ther keg o’ whisky, w I won’t touch fur wun, an’ ther silver-mounted rifle. Mebbe they’ll lend me ponies ter kerry ‘em off. Chaw my moccasins but it would be a glorious trick !” Then Pandy went on to relate how he had overheard the conversation of the three death- trailers. The shadowy form close by them, of which mention has been made before, was nong other than that of the old prairie ranger, whq had crept close to the three men in order to hear what they said. He at once resolved to — Bolly Wherrit, and after making a few more changes in his a he presen himself at their camp. What his success was, the reader already knows. Several times the queer old range | | near proclaiming his identity by making use of his expression, “‘as the fellow says,” but luckily for the success of his plan he suc ceeded on each occasion in laying the remark Gomicdooks i