Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 661 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

Old Kit Bandy s Deliverance; BANNER BEN, ‘ame WILDFIRE of the PRAIRIE. BY OLL COOMES, AUTHOR OF ‘‘ WHIP-KING JOE,” ETC., ETC, CHAPTER I. OLD COMPASS, THE COWBOY. THE sharp, pistol-like crack of a whip min- led with the clatter of hoofed feet startled the alf-score of miners, gamblers and bummers that were lounging in the Sun-Dog, the princi- 1 saloon of Roaring Rocks, an isola min- ing-camp in the mountains of Southern Colo- rado. Rushing to the door the crowd saw a horse- man dressed in the garb of a ranchero go flying down the street, driving before him four long horned, panting steers, whose sleek hides fairly glowed in the October sun. ‘‘Old Compass, the cowboy, by heavens!” exclaimed a brawny miner, ‘‘and Roarin’ Rocks is rescued from starvation. Boys, Old Compass said he’d bring us some beef and he’s did it. °*Rah for Old Compass!” ‘* Boys,” called out another miner, ‘‘let’s drink to Old Compass right away, and then go down and help slaughter the Texans.” As one the whole crowd floated back to the bar, and Old Roman Nose Jack, the proprietor of the Sun-Dog, set out the liquor. ‘*‘ Here, boys;” exclaimed Baldy Bill, holding aloft his glass, ‘‘is to Old Compass, the dandy cowboy.” ‘‘ And here’s to-the fun he always affords us whenever he looks in on we mossbacks,” added Old Steve Redrow. The crowd drank and then entered into a dis- cussion of the old ranchero’s merits and de- merits, his eccentricities and rollicking good- nature, and while thus engaged, who should come striding into the saloon but Old Compass himself. Not over half a dozen of the crowd had ever seen the old man before, and those who-had not, laughed outright in the man’s Nip face, at the odd and serio-comical expression of his weather- beaten visage and ungainly proportions. He was a man not far from sixty years of age and stood over six feet high. He was slender as a racer, with long, ungainly limbs, large hands and feet, a long, high head, large ears, a very prominent nose and wide mouth. The suit he wore fit him snugly and showed off his form in allits ungainliness, His feet and slender legs were incased in a pair of high-topped boots, at the heels of which wereenormousspurs. A wide-brimmed hat, or sombrero, surmounted his head, slouch- ing almost to his shoulders. In his hand he car- ried a. whip with a short stock and long, snakish- looking lash. At his hip hung a big revolver, while just above the me? of each of his boots peeped the buckhorn handle of a knife. » o odder specimen of bumanity than Old Compass—a name mg, 3 PO" by his long legs— had ever been seen in Roaring Rocks before; nor -was the presence of any one hailed with more pleasure than by those who had chanced to meet him there a few times within the past ear. shi Hullo, boys!” the old fellow exclaimed as he entered the saloon; ‘‘ still wrappin’ yer carcasses around tarantula milk, eh?” ‘*How’re you, old pard?”’ shouted Baldy Bill, advancing toward the old ranchero; ‘‘ you’re the folks we rejoice to see. You’re comin’ has saved Roarin’ Rocks from starvation. Old Com- we worship you!” ‘It’s yer stomache Beney that ye warship, and not me; but ye don’t ‘know it,” responded the old cowboy, good-naturedly. ‘‘I know as what I’m handsome and stately as a statoo, but I’m no celestial angel, and don’t keer, Baldy, thank you, if I do wind myself around a mug or two o’ Roman Nose’s ten-year Kentucky B’ur- bon. My throat’s real arid.” _ Baldy Bill took the hint and called out the drinks. Old Compass tossed off his glass with a gusto, and went on with his conversation. Meanwhile other yee were dropping into the saloon. Some of them were strangers who had just arrived in the camp, on the weekly ptage; but, as strangers were constantly coming going, no parti cular notice was given any } ’ “— - 4 - * é: toe rw iv ‘ iad ; . “~: 1 “~ .-p,3 me i > a - “7 ws fe’ as wr = r, Ops RY. ee Fae + } . af NT —- one unless he presented some striking peculi- arity. After Compass had entertained the crowd by a recital of his ride to camp with the four steers, he called for a second drink, and then turning to the crowd said: ‘¢ Boys—men 0’ Roarin’ Rocks, I’m on an in- nocent little tear to-day, and I want you to in- dulge me. Them steers brought me jist fifty dollars apiece in cold, hard metal. I’m to have half o’ it to squander on the poor o’ Roarin’ Rocks. It’s true, I haven’t see’d a deck 0’ cards since I war up here two months ago, but I want some innocent little fun, and am willin’ to pay for it; but, don’t disremember that V’ll amuse my man the best I know how. Do you under- stand?” ‘¢ Yon want to put up on a neat little game o’ poker,” said Baldy Bill. ‘* You catch on, Baldy, like a burr to a bron- cho’s tail,” answered Compass; ‘‘ and now, are there any quiet chaps in all this vast throng that win amuse me with an innocent little game o’ er? ‘I’m a stranger here,” spoke up 4 man in the crowd, “* but I always like to please people. Ill accommodate you toa game, sir.” The accommodating stranger was a man of perhaps forty years of age. He was a little above the medium hight with a figure perfect in its physical developments. He had a steel gray eve, a square, full face, a r&sive, protruding chin and a heavy, silken mustache, His dress was that of the sport, but there was a look in his eyes, and an expression about his mouth, that belied him if he was not a shrewd, cunning and desperate man, rs ,’ said Old Compass, facing the man, ‘‘who be you,stranger? Give me an interduc- tion, please.” : “Thomas Shalon’s my name; [ just came in on the stage,” replied the man; ‘‘and if there’s anything on earth’s broad breast that I love it is such little amusement as you suggest you are craving.” ; “Glad: to agitate your paw, Thomas,” said the old ranchero; ‘‘my name is Josephus Haas— Joe for short. I’m no spring chicken, neither am I an ancient rooster. But I love innocent little sports, and have some accomplishments. In handlin’ a cow-whip I don’t take water for any hulk ’twixt Manitoba and Mexico. l1’m beautiful with a lasso, sublime with a rifle, serenely serene with a pistol, and inspirin’ aS a m on spring with a bowie. But with keerds 1] confess I’m as a toddling child; but then PU give you a little whirl, Mr. Shalon, just as | comes an old man like me as is here on an inno- cent little tear.” The two seated themselves at a table and the game began. The crowd gathered around them to witness the playing. The sympathy of the Roaring Rockites was with Old Compass, of course, though every one naturally expected to see the old ranchero lose his money in a few minutes, for, on wag yore visits there, he had demon- strated the fact that he knew very little about cards, and lost his money every time he bet. the other hand, all felt satisfied that Tom Sha- lon was a card sharp without any scruples, But, contrary to thee tation of his friends ld Compass won steadily from the first, and finally he staked his entire pile and won on 4 single hand. As he reached out to take the money the face of Shalon darkened, his eyes flashed, and in a threatening tone he exclaimed: ‘Hold on, there, old man! You can’t come that game! I’m no tenderfoot, Josephus Haas!” “What do you mean, man?” demanded Old Compass, his hand still resting on the money. _ ** You cheated, sir!” declared the man, fiercely, savagely. ‘*T deny the allegation point blank!” retorted Old Compass, ; , ‘‘Then you mean to cail me a liar?” said Sha- lon, reaching for a pistol. ‘‘Old man, you don’t know me, sir, but I will now inform you that I am Captain Blood, the Mountain Outlaw!” “* Indeed?” replied Old Compass, without the slightest evidence of surprise as he gaye his arm a quick shake, when, as if by magic, a cocked derringer glided into his hand from his sleeve and covered the eee heart; ‘‘and it’s ap- aly you don’t know me; I am Kit Bandy, he Mountain Detective !” | CHAPTER IL. A CORNERED DESPERADO—ASSASSIN SHOTS, THE crowd in the Sun-Dog was almost para- lyzed by the startling rev ons of the two poker-players. The name of Captain Blood, as well as that of Kit Bandy, had long before pre- ceded his coming; and the very thought that Q ‘ - Banner Ben, the Wildfire of the Prairie. er they stood in the presence of that desperado was sufficient to fill them with terror. No doubt they would have fled the place had it not been that the intrepid Old Kit Bandy had the drop on the outlaw. The very fact that the bandit had dared to make his presence known there, when he stood alone, was evidence of his desperate character. It had long been a favorite amusement of his to enter a strange camp, raise a row, present a pair of revolvers, and making himself known, put to flight those around him; then, mounting his horse, to flee to the mountains before the terrified miners could recover their senses and give chase. The outlaw, however, had been cautious enough not to repeat this bold exploit in any one place, and in Roaring Rocks, a drowsy little camp, he least expected to meet ‘with danger on his first visit. But he had reckoned without his host. He little suspected that the gaunt, ungainly ranchero was the peer of any man in the West in physical strength and courage, until the man had announced hi name and presented his credentials in the form of a cocked derringer. Although Blood’s hand was upon his pistol, he dared not draw it, for he knew it would be his death-warrant to even attempt it. Bandy had the ‘‘drop” on him, He was cornered at © last. Old Kit was the’ first to break the stillness that followed the revelation of the two card- players. Looking into the outlaw’s eyes, in which burned the fire af a subdued tiger’s, he said: “Don’t dare to pull that pistol] Capt’in Blood, or by the horn o’ Joshua! [’]] put 4 thirty-eight-caliber hole through your bosom in a fash. Know ye that I’m quicker on the trigger than bat yer eye. Yow’re my mutton, ole hoss. had bound the spectators in dumb silence, and they all began to fal] back from the table and sidle off toward the door with a view to a safe place should bullets begin to fly Captain Kit, but his lip curled with scorn. He returned Kit’s gaze without flinching, and while this bat- tle of eyes was going on, the lithe figure of a smooth-faced man glided into the room and Blood’s side, and quicker than a flash—before any one one could realize what was up— snapped a handcuff around the desperado’s right With an oath the outlaw sprung to his feet, and turning on the little man flung him asid as though he were a mere infant, and then en deavored to strike him down, having shifted hi pistol to his left hand. ‘ But no sooner was Blood upon his feet than Bandy was upon his, and, raising his fist, he} drove it like a thunderbolt against the out- — cheek, knocking him sprawling upon the — oor. As he went down Blood discharged his pistol, . but as it was at random nobody was hurt. ve regaining his feet the desperado fought with all the desperation of a demon—striking and shooting righ ; gling to his wrist cutting through the air lik a whip of iron. | Bandy and his active little friend at once dis. , covered that the man was 4 giant in strength. They could expect no assistance from the mi- ners, for they were fleeing 48 fast as their feet could carry them from the scene of action... _- Bandy could easily have shot the outlaw, but there was a price on the villain’s head alive far greater than if dead, and so to bring the strug: — le to a speedy close the old detective seized a ong-necked bottle from the bar, and dealing Blood a blow over the head felled him to the earth eg ad stunned. And before the Mountain Outlaw had recovered his senses, he had been handcuffed «nd disarmed, : A big haul, Ichabod Flea,” said Old Kit, ad- dressing hislittle friend, who was, indeed, the in- imitable and cunning Ichabod Flea. . ‘+ So ’tis,” responded the latter, ‘*but he’s gamey as a speckled antelope.” As soon as it become known that the Mountain Terror was a helpless prisoner the — | egan to file into the saloon to look upon the chaived rado. And when they found that be could frightened miners and bummers — no longer harm them their fears to ven- geance and they began to cry out for the blood isoner. = : Sav eet poltroons!” hissed the outlaw, de. fiantly, ‘‘ you can talk bravely enough now, but eg may yet have a chance to try your mettle, ’m not the only one of the band of Mountain Wolves, Remember that.” (@) - , _ ' ' + 4_? , Pan he ey < U This speech sufficed to break the spell that Blood did not deign to reply to Old}. t and left, the handcuff “ike \ ha