Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 838 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

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At the signal several men with a number of led horses made their appearance. There was mounting in hot haste, the advance guard fired a volley or two and then melted away into the darkness, and when Clean Grit dash- ed up to the coach he found Ezra Ford standing bareheaded looking around him in a dazed way for his daughter, who had dis- appeared along with the outlaws. With Clean Grit and his pard came Poker Pete; and in the charge his revolver had cracked as loud as any. Now, he broke in before the boys could say a word. ‘Tell it quick, an’ tell it straight. What’s ther wu’st.” Ezra hardly knew as yet, but ina few words he told that the outlaws had opened the treasure-box, and then, at hearing the noise made by the new arrivals, had appar- ently dropped it in fright, and made off, he feared, with his daughter as a prisoner. Pete swung out of the saddle with the speed of an expert, and bent over the box. He expected to find it rifled; but a glance revealed the facts. ** A sell on the Red Owls!” he laughed. ‘‘Bully for our side! Now, you ez are men foller me, an’ we'll hev ther gal back afore she knows she’s gone.” He leaped into the saddle, and with the boy pards folowing struck off in the wake of the fleeing outlaws. ¢ CHAPTER VIII. WHAT CLEAN GRIT FOUND. THE outlaws ‘had a start they were not slow to improve on, and before the pursuit had lasted long Clean Grit realized they had a task before them which was _ well-nigh hopeless, The night was coming on fast, and already there was no such thing as following a trail from on horseback, The country, too, was totally unfamiliar to him, so that he had no idea where the outlaws might have a lurking place, or which direction to take to stand a chance of heading them off, Luck nevertheless, was in their favor. From time to time there were spots of stony round, and some of the horses of the out- aws were shod. An occasional hoofstroke came to their ears, that served to keep them on the right track, and Poker Pete still kept in the lead he had assumed at starting. Behind, came several of the men from Pay Dirt—the rest of the guard staying with the coach and Ezra Ford. At a favorable spot the boy hustler ranged up alongside of Poker Pete. ‘‘] guess the Killers are harder to kill than Pay Dirt thought for. The captain seems to be on the trail, large as life and as big as a bear. I'll never believe he is dead again till I see him planted myself; and I’ll want to dig up his corpus in about three weeks to make sure of it then.” FR Captain Kill nothin’,” grunted Pete, leaning down in his saddle as he listened to a faint sound in the advance. *“Didn’t yer git a glimp ov their head- gear? It’s ther Red Owls, what’s bin a- workin’ ther trails over ther Flat. When they give that hoot I war sure ov it, an’ I set myself all ther harder ter git a hack at’em.” ** Met them before, did you?” “‘ You bet I met ’em, an’ thar war lots ov solid reasons whyy didn’t oughter hev met “om, 1 hed jest ar Dandy Mack, an’ had my pockets a-bulgin’ out with the sequins. An’ they took ’em all,” j c~ : r ite ui! : oe : “es : ‘ ‘ pe “) fe meee ON Fa 1 eee mel «ee lb Ee Ake a Cal < pial had). Va" ita re ae pis 2 - . i? i Ae ’ a Ba ~~ * , ° ae - > Sl was no waiting just then. hustler found his pard had dropped alto- | dj - \ Poker Pete’s Double Dodgre. » **Sorry for your bad luck, pard, but it may have been all the better for us. If it hadn’t been for that perhaps you wouldn’t have been half as anxious to stay on the | trail. You stick by us, and we'll stay with | you till we run this trail aground,” | “Oh, I'm thar ter stay, an’ ef we don't make ther riffle ourselves we’ll go over ter Magie City an’ git out ther minnit men. | When thar’s a lady in ther case Poker Pete does his duty er breaks a girth.” ‘‘Keep your eyes peeled, though, for I have an idea that when they find a good place, if we keep pressing them, they will make a halt and try to stand us off for good. A night like this, fine shooting don’t go for much, and we'll want to keep hustling if we want to save our skins,” ‘* Not weakenin’, be ye, kid?” ‘Not weakening, but rubbing up my eyes a little to be sure they’ll be wide open. If you know a spot where they will be apt to make a stand, give us a hint before we get there, so we'll be good and ready.” ‘That’s right. Dll post ye ef I kin, but one’ spot’s purty near like another, an’ I | reckon when we git nigh ernuf they'll turn an’ snap regardless.” suit Move-along Mike. He had done his share in the scrimmage, and would have been willing enough to have kept up with the crowd on foot, but charg- ing through the darkness on a half-broken broncho, expecting every minute to go heels over head from its back, was not in his line. Clean Grit tried to keep an eye on him, speaking a word of encouragement now and then, but gradually he fell behind, and there Finally, the boy This sort of work was not the thing to gether out of sight and hearing. He called once or twice cautiously, but there was no answer. Then, he shrugged his shoulders, and went pounding on. ‘Mike is big enough and old enough to look out for himself, and he has the knack of getting lost to always turn up at the right time. Guess he’ll be around by morn- ing. If he’s not Tll hunt him up when I have more time. His revolver would come in mighty handy if there’sa fight, but he’s no good on a trail, anyhow.” ‘* Hyer we be!” exclaimed Pete, as several shots flamed out of the darkness, Ifis revolvers came into his hands as if by magic, and lying low along the neck of his horse he pushed straight on, firing at the flashes as he went. Without knowing it Clean Grit imitated him almost exactly, though he fired only with his right hand, the left clasping his broncho’s neck. He knew there was more than one chance of catching a bullet, and meant to hold on till the last gasp if such a thing happened. The engagement did not long continue, but it was brisk while it lasted. Poker Pete was utterly reckless of danger, and bore a charmed life to boot. He sent a bullet in the direction of every flash, and all the while was driving his steed toward the spot from whence the firing came. | The boy hustler was every whit as cool, and though they could catch no glimpse of the enemy, they were doing better work than they could be certain of. Had they dared to leave the bronchos they might have finished up their labors in great Shape, but when the Owls broke away just before the spot cf their ambuscade was reached, they were unable to follow them up the broken ground over which their flight was made, and the sound of their footsteps ceased almost immediately. ‘*Cuss ’em, they didn’t mean fight, but they got in the’r work all ther same,” growl- ed Pete, as he held in his horse and peered anxiously around him, - ’ — dae F ie 4 ’ aie “— = Ae othe ? ‘ - 7 i AF ere ae Tee ei ; Ge Aa \ aly 4 3 ve * pelim “Looks ez though, onless we're right good on ther guess, we’re left mighty bad.” They heard no longer the clink of horses’ hoofs ahead, and were not altogether certain of which way they had been heading when the fracas began, For a moment or two Pete remained silent, while he appeared to be studying over the position. ‘“Thar’s a spot whar it’s more ner likely they’ll strike fur,” he began, at length. “Ef ye’r’ game ter run ther reesks, I reckon 1 kin strike so nigh it ther difference won’t ‘mount ter much, Ther rest ov our gang don’t seem ter be b’ilin’ over ter git in front, but Poker Pete are in fer ther war ef he hez ter go it alone.” ‘* Lead on, old man, and Clean Grit will stay by you. When they went for Miss Helen they hit me right where I lived.” The ride which followed was a dismal one, and without much encouragement to the boy hustler, save that Poker Pete never was for a moment at a loss. When Clean Grit ques- tioned him he said he had prospected all over this country, and if he got his bearings right could go through it with his eyes shut. Some hours elapsed without meeting with any sign of the outlaws, or any evidence they were on the right track. Then, as py slowly picked their way along over a diffi- cult bit of ground they heard not very far away what they took to be a low groan. The two drew in and made not a sound. So far as they knew, if there was any one near them in pain it was one of the outlaws, and it was scarcely likely he could have come this far without companions. After a little the groan was repeated, and that sound was followed by a muttering as of some one talking to himself. Outlaw or not, the two could not leave a suffering man there. ‘They advanced, though with cau- tion, for there might be a trap. No trap was it, however, but they found aman tightly bound, lying upon the ground, When Clean Grit had struck a match and held it- up over his face, he saw with sur- prise the man was Sailor Sam, and that his cheek was covered with blood from a wound on the side of his head. ‘‘Great Scott, pard! how did you come here?’ asked the boy, as, first thing of all he applied a knife to the cords which were around his old friend. ‘“Who—who’s that? Shiver my timbers but I thought I heard the hail of an old messmate,” | ‘* A messmate it is, Sam, but not such a very old one either. We'll put you right on your feet in a holy minute. hat's gone wrong with you?” ‘The bloody land pirates, pard. They’ve scuttled my hull, but I'l] go down with colors flying. Sailor Sam is the trueblue.” . He tried to rise as he spoke, but the effort was vain, and he fell back with a groan louder far than the one by which he had called attention to the spot. Then he bepan to mutter to bimself after a fashion Clean Grit did not like to hear. _“*Oh, come now,” the boy urged. “You are all right now, and we’ll stand by you. How did you get in this snap?” ‘“'The bloody Jand pirates. They took our craft—but they made no haul. Ha,ba! We were too sharp forthem. Listen, Put your ear down, and I’]] tell you,” The mind of the man appeared to be wan- dering, and the boy hardly knew what to do. He listened, however, as Sam began to mumble something in his ear. What it was the sailor wanted \to tell he could not exactly understand, for he was so fearful of being overheard his words were scarcely in- telligible. While Clean Grit listened some- thing less than a mountain seemed to fall on> his shoulders, and before he could draw weapon, or offer resistance, the lad wasa prisoner,