Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 618 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

2 Walking to the office counter, he said: ‘*Tam Jabez Clincher, and I want to see a man by the name of Ezra Moore!” ** No such person stopping here!” answered the dapper little cierk. *Ye’r’ a liar!’ roared Mr, Clincher, smiting the counter with a formidable fist. ‘‘ The man is stopping here!” The office was crowded with guests and poli- ticians, and Mr. Clinker’s violent retort at once created excitement, Jim Jones, the *‘ bouncer” of the place, and a retired pugilist, advanced and grasped Mr, Clincher by the shoulders. ‘‘What’s the matter here?’ he demanded. **Come! You git!” But Mr, Clincher was not ahs oo on the ‘oit!” for, turning upon the burly Jones, he seized him, wiped the floor with him once, twice—and then threw him fully five yards away, as if he were a bundle of straw. Of course this enhanced the excitement, and for a moment there seemed to be a fair prospect of a genuine row, This, however, was averted by Mr. Maxwell, one of the proprietors, putting in an appear- nce, ‘Why, Clincher,” he expostulated, ‘*‘ what is the matter that you are creating such a dis- turbance?” ‘*What’s the matter? Matterenough! Think Pll let any young jackass like that clerk o’ yourn, lhe to me? Not by a jugful!” and Mr. oo cast a withering glance at the dapper clerk, ‘* No one will doubt that, Mr, Clincher,” Max- well hastened to reply, ‘' but there is no need of your becoming so excited. I can personally as- sure you that no such party as Ezra Moore is a guest of my house!” “Then all I kin say, ye’r’ another liar, by thunder, same’s yer clerk! I follered Ezra Moore to yer tavern myself, saw him go tothe counter, register his name; then he war shown up to his room. So, now!” Mr. Maxwell was beginning to get mad. ‘“‘Tf such a person as HKzra Moore is in my house he is here under an assumed name, I as- sure you. Here is tne register. Perhaps you will recognize this Moore’s signature!” ‘*Nary. Wouldn’t know Moore’s handwritin’ no more than a settin’ hen knows who laid each egg she’s coverin’.. Call down all yer guests, an’ Pll pick out my man, purty thunderin’ quick!” | IT shall do nothing of the ‘* Man, you are mad, If Mr. Moore turns sort. You had better go. up I will telephone you!” ‘* Telephone be darned! I ain’t leavin’ hyer till I find thet ornery cuss, Ezra Moore. So, thar!” Mr. Clincher declared, doggedly. ‘“Well see!” Maxwell said, grimly. “Vl have no more of this sort of business in my house,and you can bet onit!” and turning to a hall bo he added: “‘Call’' in two policemen, and order a cab. Clincher must be out of bis mind, and [ll send him to his home at Mount Auburn!” Clincher gave a snort of rage.” ‘‘Oh, ye will, hey?” he roared, ‘* Waal, now, Maxwell, yell need to call in the hull police force ter doit. I ain’t no baby, you bet, an’ I kin lick my own weight in wildcats!” At this juncture a young man who had been an interested looker-on stepped forward and touched the hog merchant on the arm. He was wirily built, about twenty-six years of age, and possessed of a pleasant face, dark-brown eyes and hair, and a slight mustache. He was well- dressed, but there was nothing flashy about his appearance, ‘Mr. Chncher,” he said, in a mild voice, ‘* vou had better come along with me. I have some business to transact with you, I believe— important business!” Clincher glared at him a moment, as if he were tempted to assault him, then demanded: ‘Well, who are you ?” ‘‘lam from Washington—at least, I was or- dered here from there.” Clincher stared. “Ye don’t say,” he ejaculated. “Tl be darned if I expected ye so soon. So ye’r’—” ‘No names, please,” the other ordered, per- emptorily. ‘* Come!” “ All right; V’ll go bey But, hold up,” and, turning to Mr. Maxwell, he added: *‘ First time hi aspare minnit, ll come around, buy up darned tavern, and turn you out, An’ ‘when them perlicemen come, jest tell,*em the can trot right back along their beats, an’ clu helpless old wimmen and children, [’ve no yearthly use fer ’em!” And with this parting shot Mr. Clincher ac- companied the Washingtonian from ais hotel, 4 bP Ps fet’ t ‘ 5 - - ~ 'w :¥ A\ Pare = ‘ DLé ; an} pee ah ' ‘- * oti a -; (y"th ” »* ‘ea 4) 1 - A cab was waiting near at hand, to pick up patronage, so they entered this, and the ‘‘ hog- merchant ”—for such he was—gave the order: ‘¢ Clincher’s, Mount Auburn,” and they were driven rapidly away. ‘‘So ye’r’ the detective, hey?’ Clincher de- manded, as they were whirled along. ‘‘Yes, I was in Detroit when I received a tel- egram to come here, so I lost no time in doing so,’ ‘Bully fer you! If thar’s anything I like bet- ter than hot spiced rum, it’s promptness, ’speci- ally in hogs.” he young man eyed his eccentric companion a moment, us if at a loss whether to be insulted by the blunt ajlusion, Seeing bis’error, Mr. Clincher added: ‘*] dealin pork, you see. Made my pile out o’ et—that, an’ Chicager wheat. An’, now, young feller, what’s yer name?” ** Bristol,” “ Bristle, hey? Humph! I’ve made a good bit o’ money out of hog bristles, in my time!” ‘* But I don’t happen to be of that species of Bristols,” was the retort. ‘*Sart’in not. No offense, I hope. Et’s only my bgint way o’speakin’. Ef ye ever want ter go inter the hog trade, you can come to me an’ I kin post ye better’n any other man in Cin’snati. A shoat’s a shoat, the kentry over, but et takes a good jedge to tell a good shoat frum a bad’un. I have a thunk you’re frum fu’ther West?’ ‘‘ A great ways further.” Old Clincher mused a moment. ‘‘’Pears to me, too,” be said, ** thet ye use good smart langwidge fer a cowboy, ’lowin’ ye aire one, or hev bin one. S’pose ye hed a ker- legeate edication, though, when ye was a young- ster, hey?” : ‘‘ Have you ever heard of Deadwood Dick the original, and Deadwood Dick, Junior, the detec- tive, his successor?” was abruptly asked, ‘* Yas,” Mr. Clincher admitted. ‘I’m an old hoss at readin’, when pork is low. I’ve read all about them pesky cusses.” ** Well, I am Deadwood Dick, Junior!” ‘*Thunderation! Ye don’t mean it?’ “IT do. And Ican also say that I was never inside a school-house after I was twelve years of age. Mr. Clincher gave a gasp of astonishment. ‘Ye don’t mean it?” ‘**T do, though,” ‘‘ But whar’d ye’d git yereddication? L[hain’t got much, ’cept in figgers, but I'll be darned ef yer langwidge don’t knock the time out o’ me, An’ [ went ter school till I was nineteen.” ‘‘ Contact with the people, experience in the ups, down and hardships of life, and a keen ob- servation of what goes on around you, are prom- inent factors in self-education!” Dick replied, ‘* Ab! the cab is slowing up.” ‘An’ yander is where the old porker giner- ally takes off his boots,” Clincher said, pointing out of the window with pride iu his voice, ‘‘Thar’s one little piece o’ evidence that Jabe Clincher knows a few about hogs!” CHAPTER Il. MR, CLINCHER AS A NARRATOR, Upon aspendid sloping lawn stood a hand- some stone mansion of modern architecture—a home, judging by exterior appearance, fit fora prince. The lawn was liberally adorned with shrubs, and although it was past the season for flowers, all the surroundings were most attractive to the eye. " abez Clincher had a charming home, as Dick more particularly found out, after he had enter- t It was expensively and luxuriously furnished. ‘‘f hed this house built, an’ fixed up to suit my own notion, and my darters’!” Mr. Clincher sat, as he led Dick into the parlors, sitting- room, dining-room, and library—the latter being well-stocked with fine volumes. Dick was not a little surprised to find that a man so eccentric, and with sucha rough vernac- ular, should have such exquisite taste, in all his arrangements and surroundings, Perhaps, how- ever, much of it was owing to the taste of the old port-merchant’s ‘‘ darters,” They returned to the sumptuously-furnished front parlor, and became. seated, Mr. Clincher touching a silver call-bell. A servant appeared. “Send Car'line here!” Mr, Clincher ordered. Directly a chit of a girl, aged about fifteen, very slim, tall of her age, and of a comely face, entered the parlor, She was neatly but plainly dressed. Evidently the Clincher did not throw away much on fineries, except for home comfort, ELE ———— Deadwood Dick Jr. in Cincinnati. ‘“‘Car’line, this is Bristles, the feller what's ye, treat” goin’ to look up yer sister; an’, mind bim right, fer ther’s no hog bristles about him! He’s my guest, an’ is ter have ther best the place contuins, What are yer favorite beverage, Bristles, fer my cellar holds all sorts, an? Car™=' line, tho’ she’s my youngest darter, can knock spots off ther best drink-decoctor in Cin’snati a- fixin’ up drinks,ef [dosay, An’ I opine I don’t lie, not even about hugs!” ‘Well, 1 am not much of a drinker,” Dick responded, ‘“‘ but if I have anything, I'll take a little port wine, or sherry,” ‘* Correct.as a hog on ice, Car’line, fetch up a bottle of the Widder, and bring me a bow] of rum punch, that’s a good gal, an’ teli that con- sarned cook tew fix upa boom-fine lunch fer two, Bespry, now; silks an’satings are down, an’ you’ll be hankerin’ after some new dresses!” Caroline blushed, bowed, and glided from the room, ‘‘ Thet’s my youngest,” old Clincber explained, ‘© an’ tho’ she hain’t so handsum’ as her sister was, she’s got more sense, and love fer her dad.” ‘‘She’s a likely looking girl!” Dick replied, feeling called upon to say something. ‘‘It isn’t always the woman with a pretty face who pans out the best.” ‘*'Ther’s where yer head’s as level as a hog’s back,” Clincher declared. ‘‘l’ve known et to be a fact. My old woman, Betsey, weren’t no great shakes fer beauty—she warn’t as purty even as thet acteress, Mary Ann Anderson, what comes hyer sometimes, but, criminy, she c’u’d rastle out the work, and was a powerful help to me, Poor soul, she’s gone now! But, I say, Bristles, treet Mary Aun Andersomaire a stunner, ain’t she? Last time she war here, I tuk sich a fancy to her, thet I sent her a stuffed shoat fer breakfast!” Dick felt like laughing, but of course desisted. He wondered, however, if the queenly Mary ap- preciated the shoat enough to introduce it into ‘* A Winter’s Tale.” The drinks were presently served by Car’line, and after Clincher aud the detective bad par- taken, the speculator remarked: ‘*Waal, now, Bristles, | presume you’d like ter know what I want o’ ye?” ‘‘T am here for that purpose,” Dick repjied, ‘Waal, Pll tell ye. You see, 1 was purty ey tog excited down at the hotel.” sé Tes.” ‘* Well, 1 had darned good reason to be— hogged if I hadn’t, as you will allow, when you've hearn the story, which ar’ this: “Two years ago, my gal, Clara, graduated from school—fer my gals sball hev a thoreugh eddication, ef I have ter raise a corner in pork ter give et to ’em! That’s me, Jabez Clincher. ‘Well, my Clara was eighteen, and a mighty purty gal, ef I do say it—an’ I never lie, not even on the weight of a hog. Clara was superbly eddicated, and accomplished, in all thet appli- cates ter wimmen-folks, an’ thar wasn’t a gal in Cin’snatias could hold a tallow candle to her, fer good looks, an’ fer fine duds an’ gew-gaws, sech as natterally sets a woman off, ‘My bank account war gettin’ tolerable fat, an’ I'd formed an idea 0° sendin’ Clara to marry onter a duke or a lord, or sum sech racket as par but my cackilations got knocked higher’n a kite, ‘* A feller come hyer from Texas, callin’ his- self Ezra Moore, an’ avnounced himself as a cattle king. He was young, good-lookin’ an’ evidently rich, for he dressed well, wore dia- monds big as a chestnut, an’ carried hisself like a gentleman, ] ; ‘* He spent a pile o’ money, got mto the best society, an’ the gals went wild over him. They called him an Adonis, whatever in thunder that is—et: can’t be worth the hind hoof 0’ a hog, ef it airc anything like Ezra Moore—az’ finally, the cuss got runnin’ after iy gal, Clara. I didn’t like this, an’ I-tola him to pick an’ git. He give me some sass, an’ | mopped up the street wi’ him. That's the last I see’d of him fer awhile, ‘Next mornin’ I got a letter from my Clara, an’ she sed she haa eloped with her Adonis. Thunder-an’-Mars! wasn’t | mad, then? Say, Bristles, help yerself to the wine!” Beads of perspiration were standing upon Mr, Clincher’s brow. It was evident that be was getting much excited. He arose and paced the floor a few minutes, and ther returned to his seat. “Waal,” he said, ‘I swore vengeance, and set out fer Chicago, Thar I & pack 0’ Piukerton’s men, and sent ’em down to Texas to find my darter, and ber condemned Adonis, But, no use, ‘“T spent enough ter buy fifty carload o hogs, but after a long search the detectives sed thar : : 7 - 44 4 >! 5 - . oe 6 ee ee ie ee, mee, i aay * “4, - a St / J “ - F ' A; v> le nmi js ; A “ Aad » my Ay om aS Ih je & as Qe. ; ‘e Na ; y = — | , < ¥ _ u \ by oe a : " . “a? ’ ¢ ff j! 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