Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 812 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

a -— a hang me if I will. You have cast your lot with the Rustlers, and you had better get back to them again, for you might get a deadly dose of poison here. I wouldn’t disgrace my paper with any of your rotten verses anyhow!” “ My dear sir,” cried the poet, ‘‘ you do not know what pain it givesme if I have injured ou by word or actof mine. I hoped at least to Be friends with you. I freely pardon you for the abuse you heap upon my poetic gems, Let us make up and be friends, good sir, or— ‘*T shall weep aloud in my anguish sore, And madly I'll tug at my hair; Or I’ll plunge my soul in the flowing bowl, And go gunning for reptiles rare.”’ In spite of himself, Editor Dubby had to laugh, and he said: ‘*A man couldn’t be mad with you if he wanted to, for you are the dryest cuss I ever met. There goes the gong; come and take din- ner with me, anyhow.” ** Mean it?” 46 Yeas, »? ** All right, Vll do it, and [ll give you a puff in the Rustler next week in spite of rules,” So, having made up, they went together to the hotel, where the editor escorted his distin- guished guest into the dining-room, where the other hungry boarders were already gathering round the board, The poet seemed to be taking particular note of them all, and was quietly interested in Aaron Prestley and Edmund Murtagh, especially, The conversation was general, and the poet enlivened it once in awhile with a gem of dog- gerel. ** By the way,” he presently asked, when there was a pause, “*basany of you gentlemen ever heard of aman named Pelmont anywhere in these parts?” He was looking at the mayor of the camp as he put the question, but he was eying all the others as well, and he noted that Edmund Mur- tagh looked up quickly and fixed his eyes upon bim, ** No, don’t think I ever have heerd of a feller 0’ that name,” the mayor said. ‘*‘ What for a looker was he?” **Oh, a youngchap; I met him once at another camp and took a liking to him,” Murtagh removed bis gaz» with a look of relief. | CHAPTER X, SCORING A SECRET POINT, THE fighting poet, needless to say, had been playing a quiet part, hiding bis real object un- der his innocent nonsense, He had now gained a point, yet no one was the wiser, for nothing in his outward manner re- vealed anything of his inward thoughts, He was what he seemed, a mildly mad rhymester run to seed, After dinner he was on the piazza, having parted with Dubby of the Hustler, whv had ex- cused himself, having work todo; when Edmund Murtagh accosted him, ‘*So, you are a poet, eh?” he said. **T am so called,” was the mild response, ‘* Well, you’re the first one I have ever seen,” ‘* And do I meet your ideal?” The poet assumed his prettiest pose, as he ask- ed that, and awaited the verdict, ‘¢ Yes, I guess you do,” was the return. *‘ You bave the long hair, the languid air, and the shabby appearance in gensral—not meaning any insult,” ‘‘Tnsult! You bave paid me a compliment.” ‘*But, I wanted to ask you something, Sir Poet.” ‘* And what is that? You have only to put the query.” “What about that person whom you asked about at the table?’ | 2 ‘* You refer to Pelmont?” “6 Yes,” “Why, nothing about him,except that I should like to meet him again.” ‘What sort of a fellow was he? I_ have known pare by that name, and maybe I have known him,” ‘“* Likely enough, sir, Why, he was a young chap, rather a wild one, too, and one who was free and easy when under drink- for he ‘was a drinker, But, a good-natured fellow withal.” ‘*No, hardly think I ever met him, then, ol happen to know where he hailed from, do ‘ou “ No, I do not, sir.” *“*That’s all, then; guess the fellow was never known to me.” Some further remarks were exchanged, then, when Aaron Prestley came up, and the pair were SO 8 Oe + ee ee Oe ek -~ - about leaving the piazza when something drew their attention, This something was a party coming toward the camp from the direction of the Choke, There were two women and quite a number of men. ‘Hello! what’s the meaning of this visit?” cried the Mayor of Hustleville. ‘** Who are they?” asked Murtagh, ‘** People of Roundabout, I take it.” **So they are,” cried Prestly, ‘‘ There, Mur- tagh, is the gir)!” he new-comer at the camp gave a frown as he looked at the mine-manager, and the latter bit his lip. All of which the poet noted, while he did not appear to do so, ‘Yas, et’s ther gal they call Little Maggie,” said the mayor, Wonder what it is brings ’em over hyer to-day? They was here to bury ther gal’s daddy yesterday; or anyhow his head.” ‘* And they appear to be heading for the ceme- tery,” suggested the manager. ‘**'That’s so, an’ 1 reckon I'll make et my busi- ness ter find out what they ar’ after to-day.” And witb that the mayor set out to meet them. The poet stepped apart from the manager and his companion, and appeared to be deeply inter- ested in watching the coming party. ‘What do you suppose it means?” he heard Murtagh ask, ‘*T don’t know,” was the mine-manager’s re- SpoLse, ** We'll have to wait and see what they do,” “Yes, I suppose so, ness of some sort, however, that enough.” | ‘6 So I think, too.” ‘*Suppose we walk out that way,” Murtagh suggested. ‘All right, and that will give you a chance to get a look at the young thing you intend—” A nudge from the other caused him to stop in what he was saying, and Murtagh cast a look in the direction of the poet, who was intently watching the coming visitors to the camp. ‘““f believe Vl go with them,” the poet re- marked, as if speaking to himself, ‘‘ I always like to learn the news, and now that I am on the staff of the /tustler it ismy duty to beon the lookout for items for my paper,” And with that be set out, the others right af- ter him. ‘*'What’s that you say?” demanded Prestley. ‘You are on the fustler?” ‘* Yes; I hold the post of poet laureate on that journal, sir; a post which I hope to fill with credit to mvself and honor to the concern,” “You'll fillit with something, I have no doubt. I'll be anxious to see the next number,” ‘You will find it a perfect souvenir of poetic pearls, I assure you,” ‘* T don’t doubt it, sir.” The mayor was just ahead of them, and pres- ently he met the party as they came near to the cometery, 3 ‘What d’ye want hyer?” Mayor Kreeps de- manded, ‘‘We have come on a little matter o’ busi- ness,” answered Mayor Gadzooks, ‘We want to ig up that head again fer another look at t ‘* What's that for?” ** Well, you see, it’s like this: Sence yester- day this byer young lady bas been thinkin’ over et quietly, an’ she wants another look st et when she’s more calm ter be sure thar ain’t no mistake,” ‘Wasn't ye sure yesterday, miss?” ‘‘T thought I was, sir, but I want to be very sure. I hope you will not refuse me,” Prestley and Murtagh had come up by this time, as well as the poet, and they heard all that was said, ‘‘No, I don’t reckon we'll refuse ye,” an- swered Kreeps, ‘‘but we want ther people of Roundabout to understand that they don’t own no share in this hyer sammytarry, even if they do bury in et—free gratis fer nothin’ now,” _ ‘*Oh, that’s understood,” averred Gadzooks, * Wedon’t own no more here than you doin our new fire-ingine.” ‘** Ar’ you think that fire-ingine is someshakes, don’t ye,” ‘* Well, we jest do, neighbor,” ‘** An’ I s’poge we'll never hear the end of et, till we get somethin’ that wil! put et out o’ sight, an’ that’s what we ar’ goin’ ter do,” ‘* What are you goin’ to get?” * You'll see,” “Yes, I s’pose we will. But, we'll talk that over some other time; we ar’ hyer on business now, as I said,” They are here on busi- is plain . -—.. : . ‘ ' | | a9 a ‘¥ ie”: aS," oe APRN Pe age tee ge ml i se satiny ay |e - . — as. < js . - ee wy“ a i ye (Fees? 1h eg ia * ° « 1 as + P - = ® " , * Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Head-off. 9 -_—— eee Cee ee sess ess They passed on and entered the cemetery, which wap iuclosed in a neat fence which the Abt citizens of Hustlerville had built around it, There they went straight to the little mound under which the severed head reposed, and one of the party proceeded to dig for it, the others standing idly by in waiting. Little Maggie did not look up, but stood with her back to che worker, Her face was pale and her fists clinched; that it was a trying moment for her, all could see, Fly Fan was there, armed with a peculiar littls box, us it looked to be, and she talked with the orpbaned girl in low tones while they waited. The poet in the long black coat stood silent, watching the proceeding lke a gaunt raven from some Stygian shore, What histhoughts were, . none might guess. He was not watching the worker only, however, It took some little time to get down to the box and lift it out, but it was done finally, and the head was removed and set upon the Bie in plain sight of all, ‘* Now, miss,” urged the Mayor of Rounda- bout, “‘take a good look at et this time, an’ makeup your mind. I¢ will be foolish ter take et up again, ye know. Brace yerself, now, an’ look,” Little Maggie was seen to shiver, and it was a moment before shoe obeyed, Then she turned and looked for some seconds at the dead face—steadily, her own face almost as pale, \nd while she looked, Fly Fan, standing a little back from the others, aimed her peculiar little box at the hideous object and something was heard to give a slight click. She bad photographed it! The girl took plenty of time looking upon the dead features of the face she had once decided was that of her father, and finally turned sadly away, covering her face with her hands, ‘Ar’ ye done?” asked the mayor, not un- kindly, ‘* Yos, sirs I am satisfied now,” ** An’ ye ar’ sure et was your father?” adh do not see any chance for any mistake, sir. The poet, who wag slyly watching Murtagh and Prestley, saw a look of momentary exulta- tion upon the face of the first mentioned. ‘Then bury the head again,” the mayor di- rected, ‘ We’re much ’bliged ter you, Mayor reaps, Ther pore leetle gal wanted et done, an’ nobody could refuse her, ye know.” ‘No, that’s so; I wouldn’t refuse Little Maggie,” The girl had started back toward tho gate and Fly Fan followed quickly after her an caught up with her, ‘** Your heart is almost broke, poor child,” she murmured, ** Yes, yes, for now I am sure it is my father’s head, I was sure before,” ‘But, hearken to me, Maggie; I am just as sure itis not your father’s head, Yes, 1 mean it. I donot understand the mystery yet, but I mean it. Itis not the head of Joel Meadway,” ‘*Oh, if f could only be sure of that!” ‘* Have courage, and it shall be made plain to you ere long. Meantime, breathe not what I have spoken, but let it be thonght that the ques- tion is settled for all time, ard thatit was indeed bis head that was found,” ‘* Yes, yes, I will keep silent; and it will be easy to do so, for it will take much to convince me that you are right... Only one thing will con- vince me,” “And that will be to have your father re- stored to you alive and well,” Yes, yes. Nothing else will convince me,” Then do not despair, my dear!” And 80 talking, they made their way back again to Roundabout, the poet returning with the party and entering the office of the Hustler, CHAPTER XI. PROPOSAL AND COMPACT. TT was later in the day, and Little Maggie was . busy with her sewing and all alone in ber shanty, when thers came a rap at the door, There was nothivg surprising about that, for — she had callers at all hours of the day, so she bade tha applicant come Ip, The door swung open, and Mr, Edmund Mur- tagh entered, ‘* Good afternoon, Miss Meadway!” he greeted, ’ | doffing his hat and making her a polite bow. ** Good afternoon, sir!” she responded, civilly. “Tam told that you do mending, and have come to see if you would do some for me,” . ‘Yes, I can do it, sir; but ] cannot promise \ : | Tog art ie ° ' i ’ we . 4 fd i . ; ‘ . _. <¥ ‘in 4a =" tA ate’ ——— if ~~ ~ 7 Bee