Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 705 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

a , 7 7 2. ce 2 o fe ee . - >. * much uf a poet, but I pets you two peersI peats dot. Here goes: “‘ Gid up, gid up. you plasted yool! Vy vos you layin’ there? ’ Next times you tries to kick a mule Don’d kick so hardt der air. I t’inks I gits von cobbyright on dot und makes my vortunes sellin’ him,” The poet instantly arose from the bowlder, and, tossing back his long dark hair with what was intended to be a very striking gesture, he extended his hand, exclaiming: “Sir, 1 greet you! Although your touch may not be very delicate and refined, it is plain you have a very accurate idea of rhythm and rhyme, It is a very rare thing that in this wild land one meets a person who understands poetry in the lJeast, Their minds are too narrow to compre- bend the grandeur of heaven-born verse, I am glad to have met you. Permit me; my card!” He unbuttoned the upper part of his shabby Prince Albert coat, revealing a sadly soiled shirt-bosom and a ragged vest, from a pocket of wkich he extracted a Bristol-card that was far from immaculate. This, with a flourish, be pre- sented to the little Dutchman. On one side of the card was printed: ** J. MriTon Mo Le, The People’s Poet.” On the other side, in nonpareil type: “Anniversary poems, $3.00; obituaries, $2.00; wedding effusions, $2.00. for four stanzas (extra stanzas, 50 cts. each.) Otber work at reasonable figures. Satisfaction guaranteed.” ‘* Vell, py Shimminy Scott!” The little Dutchman seemed surprised. He gave the loose end of the red bandanna handker- chief tied around his neck a pull, then thrust his hand deep into the pocket of his short, tight- fitting pantaloons, and whistled softly as he stared first at the card and then at ‘‘ the People’s Poet.” : ** Dot gids me,” he confessed. ‘“ I nefer hears pefore der likes uf dot. So your peesness vos makin’ boetry? I reckons py your look you don’d find him very payin’ oggubation, eh?” ** Well—ahem!—I must confess it is not so remunerative in this section as it might be, but the trouble is all in the people. They do not seem to appreciste anything of such a refined nature, till I did a little business back in Bloody Bar, All obituaries, though, Three of them, You see, Bowie-knife Jack made a strike at faro aud burst the bank, then he tried to ab- sorb all the liquor in town. He failed in this last attempt, but he became somewhat intoxi- cated and took the town. Three of the citizens attempted to argue with him, and the next day, when he had cooled down somewhat, Jack saw them decently interred, and paid me to write their obituaries, I have the original draughts here in my notebook, In their way they are gems, indeed. Here you have them: ** Poor ’Frisco Bob is-planted here, And on his grave we drop a tear; With several drinks to give him vim, He started out to down our Jim; Poor Robert thought himself a chief, But Jimmy’s gun brought him to grief. “The next is not quite so pathetic, but it seemed to please Jim and the boys quite as much as the first: * Here lies the corse of Patsy Dowd, Who boasted oft and boasted loud; He was no match for Bowie Jim; Beneath this slab we planted him. “The last was a bard case, of whom the greater part of the town had stood in terfor for months, Everybody was delighted with his obituary: ‘* This is the grave of Howlihg Dan, A lively life he led; He always was a wicked man, And now we're gled he’s dead! *Twas Bowie Jim gave us relief, And all agree that Jim’s a chief, ** You see, I succeeded in collaring six dollars out of that little job, which I do not consider a bad oh Me work.” ** Vell, all I haf to say is dot you vas lucky to gid oudt uf der blace mitoudt bein’ planted under von uf your own obiduaries,” At this Mr. Mole looked puzzled, but finally observed: ‘IT sea you are given to jesting, but I am still convinced you appreciate good poetry.” ‘Ob, yaw, dot vas so, bud id haf peen so long since I haf beardt any, dot I don’d rememper ven vas der last time.” ‘Ahem! Very good joke—on me. Well, never mind. But you have not told me your mame, sir,” **Ogscuse me. I vos so gombletely knocked , Violet Vane’s Vow. into von cocked hat dot ( vorgits mein manners. I haf no cardts eggscept von schmall packs vat I plays seven down mit, so I baf to tells you mein name is Fritz Schricker, und I am some- dimes caldt Frisky Fritz.” ‘*Ab-a!l” and Mole once more grasped the little Dutchman’s hand. ‘‘[ repeat that Iam pleased to bave met you. Pardon me, but if you bave no further use for that card of mine I will accept it back, Many thanks, It happens to be the last [ have, and the printing offices out this way do such vile work I have not seen fit to have any more printed, If this one bolds out as well in the future as it has in the past, I shall not need any more unless [ happen to live be- yond the allotted period of man’s existence—But may I inquire whither you are traveling?” ‘*T vas leanin’ toward Damascuses ven you virst saw me come roundt der corner on der pack uf dot mules,” **Tam traveling to Damascus myself. Per- chance we may make the journey together.” ‘**T vas agreeable if you don’d fire too much uf dot boetry ad me, Iam nod very strong und some uf id might preak me all ub in peesness,” **By all above [ firmly swear that of this thing Pll baveacare. Ah-alexcuseme! Quite involuntary, you know! Will slip out some- times. I have to keep aconstant guard over myself.” *“* Vell, 1 don’d vonder. Berhabs you ought to pe in some loonertentary asylum, I pelieve, I keeps mein vedder eye onto your shapes.—Bud der next questions is who vas goin’ to ride dot mule v’ot I finds trafelin’ aroundt all alone in combany mit himseluf,” “Why, of course you will ride him.” ‘*T pets you your life | don’d. V’at you takes me vor, anyhow, don’d id? Dot mules don’d gost Hs nottings, so you may haf him if you vants im. “The mule did not cost you anything? How was that?” ‘*T dells you I finds him trafelin’ aroundt all alone mit bimseluf, Dere vasn’t anypody v’at seemed to own him, und soI dakes bossession. He travels like von stheam cars undil I vants him to stob und den he gids ub und trafels like some shain-lighdning don’d peaple to over- took him, I grabs him aroundt der neck und yells vor him to led ub, bud Sbimminy Jews- harps! der more I yells der vaster he goes till I don’d vas aple to ketch von breathe in more as sigsdeen minutes, Ven Idells him I vill preak his neck to der roots uf his dail he blats like he t’inks it von gread shoke, und vor der nexdt den mimutes he travels so vast his feed don’t touch der ground adall, Ogscuse me, I vas villing to ride afoot der rest uf der vay.” “Well then, the mule I'll try; Pll ride the knightly beast or die. Another slip. If he st he bad, I will recite some of my poetry to im, ‘Dot vas righdt. If he runsavay shust re- pead some uf dot stuff und I pets zwi tollars he drops deadt his tracks in,” Mole carefully approached the mule which had been standing with lowered head and half- closed eyes. Tbe animal did not stir, and with very little difficulty the poet climbed upon its bare back, At the word the mule started off at a slow walk, : Vell dot peats me!” acknowledged Fritz. ‘*Put I tinks he raises some tyfels puty soon kvick ven be feels dat vay.” The mule moved slowly forward and the Dutchman walked at a safe distance from the animal’s heels, The two men chatted agreeably, becoming more familiar with each passing min- ute. For an hour they advanced toward the little mining town of Damascus in that manner. [t made Fritz sweat to walk, and as he mopped his perspiring face with the ends of his bandan- na handkerchief, he now and then glanced wist- fully toward the mule, apparently wondering why the animal displayed no unruly symptoms with Mole riding it. Finally, when he had re- mained silent ou the subject as long as he could, he ventured; ‘* Dot peast seems von leetle peet more sensible now, don’d id?” ‘It is exceedingly gentle,” smiled the poet, ** Berhaps I might ride him some more,” ‘* Perbaps so,” ‘*IT vas pecoming tiredt uf this valkin’ pees- ness,” hinted Fritz, ‘** And I am becoming tired of riding. I will dismount and you can take my place,” The mule promptly stopped at the command and allowed the poet to dismount. However, it glanced round curiously as Fritz clasped its neck and rolled upon its back, **Gid up!” The animal did not stir. ‘“Gid up!” repeated the dumpy Dutchman, thumping the mule’s sides with bis heels. The next instant the beast gave a squeal, leaped into the air, coming dowu with its feet close to- gether and its back arched, thus performing a beautiful ‘‘ buck ” that sent Fritz bounding three feet upward from its back like a huge rubber ball. And when the unlucky Dutchman fell the tricky mule was not beneath him, CHAPTER IL. THE DUKE OF DAMASCUS—FRITZ DROPS IN, ** DUNDER und blitzens!” Fritz struck on the ground ina sitting posture, while the treacherous mule frisked gayly away, occasionally whisking its heels in the air and giving vent to a derisive ‘‘ hee-haw,.” The as- tonished Dutchman sat still a few moments star- ing at the retreating mule, then he arose to his feet and stood with both bands clasped upon the part of his person that had come in contact with the ground, while be muttered: ‘* Py cracious! dot coomes tretful near knock- in’ der’ whole uf my prains oudt, I vish I hadt a pritch-loadting gannon. I vyould shood der linin’ uf dot mule oudt so kvick as nefer vas,” “ ‘Revenge, revenge!’ the victim cries: ' ‘Revenge, revenge!’ the echo flies rom crag to crag and peak to peak— he very mountains seem to speak,”’ quoth J. Milton Mole, striking a tragic position, with one band pressed upon his heart and the other upraised. “T dink J vill go cuts mein t’roat mit der sharb edge uf von fetter-ped,” sighed Fritz, looking quite crestfallen. ‘‘I am gladt there vas nod some more folkses aroundt to see me commit dot peautiful circus acts, Gread Scott! there vas somepodys, or L vas von trute-twistin’ son uf a guns!” A short distance away was an attractive-ap- pearing young man, mounted on a clean-limbed sorrel horse, It was plain be bad beena witness of Fritz’s misfortune, for a smile still rested on his bandsome face, He rode forward as the Dutchman and the poet turned toward him, ‘*That animal served you a scurvy trick, sir,” he observed, in a pleasant voice. ‘* I will over- take it and bring it back if you wish me to,” ‘* Tf you overtage id, I bopes you vill kill id on der spot!” cried Fritz, fiercely. ‘I sells you dot mule vor ten cents, und you vill gid sheated py der pargains. I vish I badt nefer foundt dose peast, dot’s vat’s der madder mit me,” ‘*He found yon mule while yet astray, And rode the beast upon his way; But soon he found it did not pay, And now the imp of sin he'd slay. Impromptu! Not very bad, eb, sir? I ama poet, sir. Permit me; my card,” Out came J, Milton Mole’s card to do duty for the second time that day. Removirg his bat- tered high white bat from his abundant head of hair, he bowed low as he extended the pasteboard to the young horseman, who accepted it witha smile, ‘“‘T am happy to meet you, Mr. Mole,” said the young man, with a show of respect, gwing- ing down from the saddle and accepting the t’s outstretched hand, ‘‘ I infer you are draw- ing inspiration from the rugged mountain scen- ery of this section. Who is your companion?’ ‘*Der poys uster gal] me Frisky Fritz,” the little Dutchman hastened to explain. ‘‘Ialva vas apoud as lifely asder pest uf them. Mein fam'ly name vas Schricker. I vas plamed gladt you makes mein agwaintance, don’d id? Here ou haf mein handt v’ot is aboud der sizeuf a am-sandwitches. How you vas, anyhow, und how vas your fadder and mudder und all der rest uf der familys?” Laughing at Fritz’s hearty greeting, the young man shook the jolly fellow’s hand warmly, re- plying: ‘*T can only answer for myself, and I am well. My name is Royal Norman and I belong in Damascus,” ‘Dot vas der-blace v’at us folkses vas leanin’ at ven dot gonfoundet mule plays me some his tricks uf. I bays bim vor dot somedimes, und don’d he vorged id. How far avay off vas dot Damascuses?” ‘*Only about two miles,” ‘Then I dinks I vil) ride mit Shank’s hoss der rest uf der vay. Berbabs I catches dot mules pefore I gids there, then you vill see some cir- cusses if you keeps your vedder eyes beeled.” ‘* Yes,” bowed Mole, “if the town is so near, we can walk very well. You need not incon- venience yourself by offering your borse, sir. We have only walked thirty miles or so and we are not tired in the least. But—excuse me— that card, Ahem! It happens to be the last L =" 2 ¥ NI . < %<% : _* ~~ 3 * oF al o? a - ¥ a * —_ _ > 5 * - > ~~