Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 64 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

oa _ jn the least moved by the warning. night, feelin’ bad about the dead, ov course, but expectin’ no Injunraid. Dandy Jack was roastin’ a slice of bufiler-rump as I had larn’t him on the route; when Luke Whittles came in an’ said that thar was suspicious characters down at the ‘river. ‘* Injuns?”’ sez I, reachin’ fur the gun. ** Don’t know, but it’s suthin’, that’s sartin,” he said, an’ tellin’ the two young ’uns to take care o’ themselves fur a time, Luke an’ me left camp. 4; We got down to the place whar he said he had see’d the suspicious characters; but thar warn’t thesign o’ man thar; I told him that his eyes hed fooled ’im, but he doubted it. Then it war, stranger, that I made a fool outen my- self. He wanted me to wait at the place till he could scout down the river, an’ bless me! ef I didn’t wait! We war nigh a mile from camp an’ thar I sot fur half an hour, but no Luke. Mad? I war the maddest man in Oregon, an’ I’m that identical individual yit. All at once, uicker’n lightnin’, I broke back to the wagon. t war gone, stranger; thar warn’t a sign o’ Dandy Jack, the gal, nor Luke Whittles. Why; the fire hed been put out—nuthim’ left! It all | into my head. The mean, pusillanimous DPE to think that he come a game over Lige Butler what has tramped this trail ever since it’s been one—that’s what riles me! Don’t I know now ve Reg hevn’t see’d an Injun since we left Fort 1? They kept back jest to lull my suspicions, an’ give him a chance, What hev I been doin’ since daylight, stranger? Why walkin’ up an’ down hyar cussin’ Lige Butler fur lettin’ such a sneak scamp as Luke Whit- tles fool him! I’m mad yet; but I hev got down to business. The trail leads right toward the Snake country, an’ if War-Bow an’ Luke ain’t hand in glove in this diabolical outrage, then I miss my guess. Mebbe as how that chap called Oregon Leon has got a finger in the pie. If he’s fond o’ gals it’s more’n likely, fur she was uncommon pretty. Ive never sot eyes on that rascal ’ceptin’ at a distance. He’s about your size, stranger, I should jedge.” ‘“‘That is what others tell me,” the man in the saddle said. ‘ Like yourself, I have never met this bandit, But, what are you goin’ to do? If Luke Whittles, as you call him, gets into the Snake country with his captives, the hunting of him will be uncommonly dangerous.” ‘‘ Mebbe so, but whar he kin go, Lige Butler kin foller. I don’t care if War-Bow, Oregon Leon an’ Luke Whittles all three hed a hand in the diviltry, 'm goin’ to foller an’ git the wagon and its little ones back. I’m the maddest man in Oregon, an’ worse than a nest of rattlesnakes when I’m r’iled. Don’t forgit it, stranger!” ‘* But you will not attempt the rescue alone?” asked the man, affecting surprise. ‘““Thar’s whar you miss it!” answered Long Lige, making a smile visible at the corner of his mouth. ‘ The little one’s got a big hold on my heart, an’ they’re goin’ to hold on till I get ’em outen the diffikilty. Who are you, anyhow?” The question so abruptly put startled the man in the saddle, and he saw the piercing eyes fixed upon him. ‘My name is John Shotwell.” ‘* Been long in these parts?’ ‘* Off an’ on for five years.” ‘‘“ Which way now?’ Long Lige had turned interrogator. ‘‘T was on my way to the falls; but if I can be of any service to you—” ‘““Can’t help me a particle!” interrupted Butler. ‘I’m goin’ italone. Ever go into the Snake kentry? Some white men carry a permit from War-Bow.” ‘Oh, I go anywhere in these parts,” Shotwell answered with a smile. ‘“Then ye may hear ov Lige Butler, the mad- dest man in Oregon, in the Snake kentry. I’m oin’ thar if the youngster’s trail leads to it, an’ E biedar think it does.” The face of the man in the saddle suddenly assumed a look of warning, and he solemnly pointed to the north-west. “Yonder lies the country of the Snakes!” he said in low, measured words uttered to impress the man who was looking into his face. “It is a land of death. If Luke Whittles has taken the stolen property thither, an’ J think he has, ou mine as well try to climb to the moon as get it back. I don’t say this to frighten you, e Butler; but to prolong your life.” *That’s kind in yer,” blurted the guide, not ‘But I’m oin’ squar’ inter that kentry which you call the land o’ death.” ‘‘Then you'll never come out of it alive, for ‘T)l be thar to see that you don’t!” thundered ~ te mounted man as he leaned suddenly toward Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. ae le $$ _—_—— -- Long Lige, and sent the rifle flying from his hand by one sweep of his arm. The next moment the horse sharply spoken to darted forward, while the astonishment, staggered back. ‘Thunder and guns!” exclaimed the lank ranger, looking around for his rifle. ‘‘ That’s queer treatment from a stranger!” His fingers closed eagerly around the rifle-bar- rel and he was rising with the recovered wea- »on when a voice came from the darkness rap- idly setiling over river and trail. ‘** Don’t foller the wagon, fool!’ said the voice. ‘*'You’ll never see its white kiver, nor its load again, for I stand between you an’ them; an’ out hyar they call me Oregon Leon!” Lige opened his eyes at mention of the bandit’s name, ; : John Shotwell was Oregon Leon! ‘‘[’m right glad ’ve met ye!” he shouted, in his rough voice. ‘‘I’ll know ye next time, an’ afore we part fur the last time, Oregon, ye’ll find out that the maddest man in Oregon is worse than a handful of rattlers.” A scornful laugh came from the darkness, and oe Lige heard hoofs going down the hard rail. CHAPTER II. THE BOX OF DEATH. WE have spoken of the theft; now let us seek the thief. At the time that witnessed the occurrence of the incidents first narrated, a large wagon known in emigrant days, and at the present time also, for that matter, as a ‘‘ Conestoga,” was moving along the edge of a prairie in a northerly direction, gradually leaving old Fort Boisse to the left. The vehicle was drawn b four strong-limbed mules, one of which was rid- den by the only man visible, This individual would not have favorably im- ressed a physiognomist. He was a stout, dark- aced fellow, of at least six-and-thirty, slouch- ily attired, from the shapeless hat that sat on his head to the dusty leathern boots heavily spurred after the manner of a Mexican ranch- ero. His face’ was covered with a bristly beard of a fortnight’s growth, and this, in its turn, was well filled with alkali dust. His eyes were small, deep-set, and far from oh a kindly expression; in short, the man had the appear- ance of a villain. He filled the Mexican saddle with the ease of an arriero, and every now and then sent the cuttin lash of the heavy black whip over the ears of the foremost mules, which kept them on a trot. The ‘‘ Conestoga” lumbering on behind was untenanted so far as outward seg ame e went; but a precious burden was inclosed by its white canvas walls. ong the numerous packages of goods which are usually carried by those old-time wagons across the plains, lay a — whose age could not have been past six- n. His position proclaimed him a captive, for, indeed, his hands were cruelly bound upon his back. His head rested on a heap of blankets which had been arranged so as to form a pillow, doubtless by the fair girl who, seated near by was looking through a loop-hole in the forward end of the canvas prison. ‘“‘Are we on the plains yet, Estil?’ the boy asked, ina tone in which impatience was coupled to anxiety. ‘‘I know we've left the trail, for the wagon jolts but little now. Estil, did you hear me?’ ‘* Yes, Jack,” was the reply, and the face par- tially averted, was turned to the boy, reveali a rich and beautiful countenance. “ You ask if we were on the aap We are skirting a forest of strange-looking trees that lies to our +a but I can see no trail ahead. We left the old road some time back.” ‘*The miserable scamp!” ee the boy rais- ing his head so as to catch a glimpse of the slouched hat through the loop-hole. Then he back upon the “Sega his teeth and settl lanket again with a sigh. Since the night before the Conestoga had been hurried with but two brief halts along the Ore- gon trail and across the alkali plains. The whip ad never ceased to sound in the animals’ ears, and the imprecations of that merciless driver —_ the air well ladened with ad omer e girl, Estil, had not been bound by the graceless rogue. Her hands were free, but everything that had an edge had been removed from the wagon, and she was powerless to as- sist her companion. The knots of his bonds were Gordian ones; they could be cut, but not untied. When asked for an explanation of his conduct in running off with the wagon and leaving Long _—— guide, with a cry of” c Lige the guide alone on the great trail, Luke Whittles had replied that it was none of the un- fortunates’ business, Once or twice he told them that he did not intend to stop until he got to the ‘‘ jumpit’ off elt and from the manner in which he kept the poor animals on the go, om captives were inclined to credit the asser- ion. Dandy Jack, as Long Lige has already dub- bed the boy, would have Senistod Whittles's in- famy if the rascal had given him the opportu- nity. But the youth had been surprised by Luke, who, having crept noiselessly up behind him like an assassin, threw his great weight up- on him, crushing him to the earth, and making him a captive before he could speak. Then bound hand and foot, as he still remained. he: was flung into the wagon, and the mules quickly harnessed to it again. 16 Villain was forced to be expeditious, for if the old guide should come upon him before he had accomplished it there would be a new corpse on the trail. Nothing seem to tire that traitor; the hot. rays of the sun beating upon the canvas render-. ed the interior of the wagon almost suffocating;; the mules were pushed forward under the keen lash of that terrible whip, and the man riding spc to the furnace-like heat, seemed made, of iron. The day gradually faded and the twilight: came on again, The air, changing with the change of light, became somewhat cooler; but: the hoofs of the jaded teams still disturbed the alkali dust that lay at the roots of the thin grass, and the evening wind took it up in suffocating clouds, enough to blind man and beast. ‘* We must be going to that poe ngs Bee place’ of which he has spoken,” said Dandy Jack, giv- ing the girl a faint smile ashespoke, ‘‘ Doesn’t. he think that he has left old Lige far enough: behind to give the mules a rest?’ Before the girl could reply, a loud ‘‘ Whoa!” rung out upon the now pleasant air, and the vehicle came to a halt. ‘* Look out and see whats’ up, Estil,” said the: boy, and his companion went forward and put her face to the ew! The My had halted in what appeared to be the middle of a vast plain. Not the sign of @. road was visible, Luke Whittles was standing erect in the ponderous wooden stirrups and gaz~ ing intently forward. Estil looked in the di- rection thus indicated, but saw nothing. 3 ‘‘T can’t be mistaken,” she heard the traitor say. ‘‘ They aren’t buffer fur they hevn’t got the rollin’ motion. I Soe ag be gittin’ inter the kentirry whar I should fin Injuns! by hokey!” The muleteer’s exclamation which was unwel- come to the fair auditor, drove her from her place of observation. ‘*‘T heard him!” Dandy Jack said, before she could communicate her intelligence. .‘‘ Indians! Estil, his discovery is not unwelcome to him for he would not have left the trail and come all the way into this country if he was afraid of the red-skins,” The boy captive was right. Luke Whittles was not disconcerted at the discovery. ‘‘Hey! what ar’ ye doin’ in thar, my leetle ones?” his rough voice suddenly cried, and his repulsive face appeared at the opening. ‘I say, my leetle Dandy Jack, you war wishin’ day be- fore esterday that you could see alot of In- uns that don’t loaf ’round the gov’ment forts. ’ve guv you that chance, fur here comes a hull heap of that kind o’ individual. They'll be here presently, so jest keep yer jacket on an’ don’t be oneasy. T fancy as ow both of ye ar’ goin’ to git yer fill of the red devils afore ye git t ough with these parts.” Without another word the speaker turned away, and rising in the stirrups again, waved his hat above his head, executing at the same time a peculiar yell which Dandy Jack well knew was a si call, Luke Whittles remained in the stirrups until thirty or forty gayly-attired savages surrounded ew and broke forth in exclamations of de- “Listen, Estil!” said Dandy Jack. “They know the villain, and now I have no doubt they meet him here by agreement.” Estil, with her hand in that of Jack, and her face white but very lovely in its pallor, listened to the unintelligible conversation going on be- tween Whittles and his dusky visitors. “Yes, sir ee, I’ve got a precious load!” the ir heard Luke say at last, in English. ‘ Thar some goods in the wagon which ye kin make free with; but_mind ye, the livin’ freight ar’ mine, Come, I'll show up.” So saying, the thief leaped from the saddle, and at a single jerk his hands widened the aper- ture at the rear end of the cover, and instantly JOO eom “S (E (EO) 4 : / >