Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 886 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

2 : Old Disaster, the Border Nomad. Sharper Stokes Double Deal: Old Disaster the Border Nomad BY WILLIAM G, PATTEN, AUTHOR OF ‘' VIOLET VANE” NOVELS, ETC. CHAPTER I, A DARK DEED, DxEEp down within a secluded *‘ pocket,” amid the Black Hills, burned a cheerful camp-fire one summer night, The glade in which the fire blazed was sheltered by pine trees which pre- vented the light from being seen at a distance, Near the fire sat four bronzed and bearded mep, The youngest was not more than twenty- three years of age, a tall, handsome fellow with blue eyes and a winning face. He was attired in a stout, serviceable suit, and the belt beneath his coat contained a brace of revolvers and a short-bladed knife. A Winchester rifle lay up- on the ground within easy reach of his hand. This was Ethan Sherman, Near Sherman, reclining upon his side, his el- bow upon the ground and his head resting upon his hand, was Albion Junardo, a man apparent- ly forty years of age. He was dressed nearly the same as Sherman, his pantaloons bein tucked into the tops of a pair of boots, A ful beard covered his face, 6 always wore his bat pulled well down over his eyes, twin orbs which peered from beneath the hat-brim in a sharp, ssarching manner, Junardo was a rather mys- terious man who had little to say about himself, altbough naturally quite voluble, He did no possess a rifle, uor carry visible weapons, al- though his companions were well aware that he could produce a self-acting revolver with light- ning-like swiftness, Beyond Junardo reclined another man whose face was concealed by a full beard, and who al- so wore his hat pulled down over his eyes. He was a heavy-built fellow of medium hight, whose every movement betrayed great physical power. He was dressed in a half-hunting, balf-mining suit, and wore a belt which supported several handsome weapons. His rifle leaned against a smail tree near at hand, This man gave his name as Flavus Stokes, The fourth one of the party was a little round- shouldered, spare man, who was at least sixty years of age, He was dressed in a well-worn buckskin suit, which fitted his emaciated form closely, making bim look even thinner than be actually was, His belt contained a braceof an- cient-appearing revolvers and a long knife, Near at hand lay a long-barreled old rifle, which looked as if it had seem hard usage. This wood veteran’s thin face was covered by a scraggy beard, his large mouth was drawn downward at the corners, in a lugubrious ex- pression, but which was given the lie“by the merry twinkle of his steel-blae eyes, Far and wide this border nomad was known as Old Disaster. In modern pariance the old man would have béen called a ‘* crank.” He took a melancholy pride in relating his many accidents and misadventures, His store of anecdote seemed inexhaustible, and, some who knew him were inclined to believe that his imag- ination was responsible for many of his aston- ishing tales. Rumor located the cave of the Gold Genii somewhere amid the Black Hills, beyond the weird ‘* Bad Lands,” and che sight of big nug- gets in the possession of the red-men, who had access to the Hills, led many to believe the wild and wonderful! tales, : More than one expedition, it was known, bad set out to discover the cavern, but, the admitted fact that not @ man ever returned to tell of suc- cess or failure, immensely intensified the interest in the matter. Although the Indians professed tobe friendly, the pale-face found within the heart of their Reservation never again reap- peared among his kindred! The discovery of gold within the Hills sent hundreds of fortune-seekers into the ‘* promised land,” regardless of Government interference or Sioux soning kane, and the discovery of the cave of gold was regarded as a possibility. The party of fovr had started to search for this cave. From a dying red-skin whom he had befriended, Old Disaster had obtained such in- formation as led him to think he could find the wonderous cavern, The old man had met Ethan Sherman and liked him, He resolved to take the young fellow along as a companion. Their plans were accidentally overheard by ' Junardo, who made the fact known, and while protesting that he did not wish to urge himself upon them, said he would like to be one of the expedition, After some deliberation, they agreed to take him, feeling that it would make them stronger should they have trouble with Indians. Stokes was picked up by the way, and he, too, clung to them like a leech, As the night wind whispered softly amid the pines above their heads, the four fortune-seekers gazed silently intothe fire with various emotions stirring within their breasts, Old Disaster pull- ed vigorously at the black pipe which he was smoking, his fanciful brain filled with visions of his past ventaresome life, and conjuring some new and startling anecdote with which to set the party into laughter or fill them with wonder, Stckes’s thoughts must have been of a peculiar nature, for he would occasionally glance search- ingly at his companions as if fearing they could read his mind, Junardo’s face was grave and unfathomable. He gazed steadily into the leaping flames, as if seeing there something which fascinated him, Sherman also saw visions in the leaping lights and shadows, but everything resolved into a beautiful face which seemed to smile sweetly but sadly upon him, Within the young man’s heart there was a constant pain—a dread— which redoubled as be gazed at that fair face in the fire, He almost forzot himself and cried aloud the dear name which kept sounding with- in bis brain, ieee a the voice of Old Disaster broke the spell, ‘*Ju fellers ever heer o’ ther time I war blowed all ter pieces in that ’ar steamboat kersplosion?” he inquired,.-removing the pipe and spitting spitefully in thefire. ‘* That war *bout ther wu’st disaster this ole piece o’ hu- manity ever tuck er slice of. Howlin’ tomcats! It makes me turn cold frum head ter fut just ter think o’ it.” The old trapper of the hills and prairies paused long enough to take a pullat the pipe and glance swiftly around at his companions; then he resumed: ‘¢*That war on the ole Mississip’, I war blown plum up ergin’ the stars, my lef’ arm an’ three ribs war broke, my right shoulder relo- cated, a pine board three inches wide war druv plum through my lef’ lung an’ my whole an- terior system war clean knocked askew; yet that axident saved my life!” After making this startling assertion, Disas- ter relapsed into silence and gazed solemnly at the fire, well knowing that his listeners’ curi- osity would demand to have the rest of the story. ‘‘ How was that, Disaster?’ asked Stokes, ‘‘Waal,” drawled the old fellow, his eyes twinkling, but the corners of his mouth crawl- ing a trifle lower, ‘‘Il war playin’ poker w’en the kersplosion tuck place—that is, I hed been playin’, but jist then war sayin’ my prayers an’ preparin’ ter cross ther Styg’an River, as ther poic sez, Itcum’ erbcut like ter this: | **f had got inter er leetle trubble wi’ Dandy Drake over er woman, I uster be er condemned, mule-headed, soft-brained fool over every bless- ed petticoat I run acrost; but therole man’s got over thet/ Drake war er river shark—made his livin’ at keerds; but I never war no slouch wi’ pasteboards. As I sed, we hed sum’ trubble, Ther gambler war ole lightnin’ on ther shoot, but J got ther drop. Then he challenged me ter fight, an’ of course I picked ther weppins, ik knew him ter be er dead shot, an’ ’twasmore’n likely we’d both gounder if jit war pistols, I war pritty ’tarnal good with keerds, ez I sed afore, an’ I named them fur weppins, Ther one who went broke fu’st war ter stake his life, an’ef beaten ther other war ter count three, at which p’int ther loser war ter blow out his own brains! . ‘‘ Ther game begun, an’ fur moro’n a nour it was nip an’tuck. Bumby I got a big han’—four ueensan’aking, As we warn’tplayin’ straights, knew thero war ouly jist one han’ in ther pack as c’u’d down me—four aces, Ther chances thet Dandy Drake held four aces war one in bun- dreds, but it soon grow plain thet ho had a big fist, fur ho raised meevery time. , We putt up ev’ry cent we had, an’ then I hope ter he blessed ef we didn’t both stake our lives! He called an’ I laid my han’. Then he putt down bis, an’ by ther beard o’ Moses! he had ther four aces! “Tt looked then ez if I'd run ag’in’ my last disaster, Drale guv me one minute to say Over my prayers. He putt er pistol inter my han’ an’ held me kivered wi’ ernuther, sw’arin’ all ther time as how ke’d do ther job ef I didn’t stan’ by tuer’greement. He had counted two an’ I had ther pistol at my own head w’en ther ole biler bu’st, Ther next I knew my mutilated remains war bein’ pasted tergether by a doctor an’ I warin bed sum’w’ereson ther shore. — ° *“T’ve never met ther gambler frum that day ter this, nor hey I met any one who has seen him since ther kersplosion. Iwar reddy ter kerry out my part o’ ther ’greement, but I’ll never doit till he counts three. Ther word war rollin’ down his tongue w’en ther luckiest disas- ter 0 my life tuck place.” ‘‘And so you survived your dreadful wounds?” Stokes queried. ‘‘No, I didn’t,” snapped the old man, “I never duner thing termy woun’s. Ther doctor %ended ter them; butI got well jist ther same,” Stokes laughed a little at Disaster’s story, but Junardo and Sherman were silent, evidently occupied with their thoughts. The old border tramp noticed this, and uttering a peculiar grunt, relapsed into silence, Little more was said ere three of the men wrapped themselves in their blankets, prepara- tory to a good night's rest, leaving the fourth, Flavus Stokes, on guard. Slowly the hours wore away. Coyotes barked in the distance, the night breeze whispered among the pines, the fire sunk lower and lower, The guard, who had satdown at the foot of a tree, seemed to finally succumb to a feeling of drowsiness and fall asleep, The sleepers dreamed and whispered of loved ones faraway. There was one wholittle knew of the deadly danger that menaced him. No psn angel whispered a warning in his ear. e slept on. ; Not far from midnight Disaster was awaken- ed a hg ac flercely shaken. ‘¢ Wake up!” cried a voice in his ear. ‘‘ Wake up, man, for God’ssake! Murder!” ‘* Horn o’ Gabriel! W’at’s ther matter?” gasped the veteran, as he sprung up. ‘¢ Murder!” repeated Stokes, as he pointed to- ward a motionless form that lay within the dim circle of light made by the dying embers. ‘** Look there!” CHAPTER II, STRANGE AND STARTLING OCCURRENCES, Wirt one sidelong scrape of his foot Old Disaster raked together several half-burned brands and kicked them upon the coals, A small flame instantly blazed up, and by the , a) light thus obtained, the old plainsman saw the haft of a knife which was apparently buried to the hilt in the breast of.the motionless man. The victim was Albion Junardo! The unfortunate man had been struck dead while he slept. He had made no outcry, al- though it was evident that there had been a slight struggle. As Disaster bent over the silent form he saw that the dark, heavy beard which Junardo wore was partially detached from his face, The beard was false! At once the old scout removed the beard, re- vealing a smooth-shaved, determined-appear- ing face, ‘Sword o’ Goliath!” gasped Old Disaster. Stokes said not a word, although he gazed up- on the unmasked face with evident emotion. For several seconds the two men were silent. Finally the old man declared: A ‘¢T his ar clean knocks me eendwise.”” ‘¢ Ho was in disguise,” ‘s Waal, I sh’u’d segashiate!” ‘Tt was a foul murder!” q ; ‘¢-Yes; hé’s run plum ag’in’ his last disaster, This was a foul deal, pardner, an’ no mistake, But, look hyer!—hyer are finger-marks on his throat!” ‘¢ Where the murderer held him and prevent- ed an outcry while he did his work, j)isaster, old man, this is a black piece of business.” ‘Whar is Ethan Sherman?” demanded the veteran borderma®, as he glanced ground. Stokes shook his head. ‘*- You tell!” he said, significantly. For a momen oc ne 9 feenion dazed, ae azed searchingly around; then his ©Y€s res his companion’s face, with a half-beseeching light in their depths. ‘No, no!” he faltered; “ you can’t think that other lad! He didn’t do it—rod of Aaron, no > P ] “Where is he?” demanded Stokes. ; Disaster shook his head feebly. The night- wind, as it moaned amid the pines, was the only answer. ‘He has fled,” Stokes added; “fied like a crime-stained coward-who dared not rema1D 1h the presence of his victim. It locksrather dark for that young man,” i 5 “T can’t believe it,” persisted the old man, 900 Comic s he 7 | j See, 4 < a ae - woe > ae = el a PURE ey res : agile —_ ta ee . = og ~~ ae S