Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 857 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

ee ~~ ca , ~* + = ee ‘+ - = va, « = : - h - ‘ 7 ss ee i a. ee 1 = noe - + in ee is ams a ee wie yy H me AS > —— - —— 4 or! a ee a ~ Se 2" ; WZ - — an “ in. ty A. pmo wt So SS Se ee Ee oe en oo ; ¢ > a ee Va ee — | a & ef ~~ ° F ~ Sati > 5 Ee . oT... = . — - > tate a “| . e*, Sas Se ees 4 e tm 2% =a de 3 «+ . <= ‘* 14 However, it took Frank a long time to convince Bob he ought not to do as he had romised the Man from ’Wayback. He was orced to reason that, if a man hired out with another without fully understanding ‘tthe nature of the duties he was to perform, and afterward discovered he was expected to do an unlawful or morally wrong action, it was proper that he should promptly re- fuse to have anything further to do with the matter. ‘“* It'll be like pullin’ teeth,” declared Bob; “* but I’m goin’ straight to Dave an’ tell bim I’m out ofit. He can have back the money he’s paid me.” Heavy trucks and milk-carts were stirring by the time they reached the vicinity of “Twenty-eighth street. There was a gray light in the eastern sky that told of ap- ‘proaching day, although Frank Anson could scarcely realize the night was gone, An eventful night it had been. Both the man and the boy were hungry; ‘so they went toa restaurant on Sixth avenue that keeps open all night, where they pro- cured » hearty feed, having first been per- anitted the use of a wash-room. They felt much better when they step- ped forth into the open air once more, “washed and refreshed. Bob decided to go to the Tower House ‘at once and see if he could not get to Silent Dave. Frank was to wait for him outside. A black boy was washing off the steps and the walk by the hotel. The door was open, and Bob walked straight in. Up the ee he went and to the room of the Silent Man. | At the first sound of his knock, the door "was opened, as if he had been expecied. ‘Silent Dave stood there, as the light of the gas-jet burning behind pay showed, His curtains were close drawn; his face was pale. Scarcely a muscle altered when the man saw the boy at the door, but his eyes attested his delight. He held out his hand and gave Bob such a grip that the boy winced. Into the room Bob was drawn, aud the ‘man of no words motioned for him to sit aoe But the young shadower shook his head, ‘‘T suppose you want me to tell you where I have been all this time?” said ‘Bob, reading the question in the eyes of the other. Silent Dave bowed. Then the lad related everything that had happened to him, making the narration brief but clear. , As the mute man listened, only the wonder- ful eyes in the man’s head expressed the emotions he felt, His face was as grave as that of a marble man. On a little table were pens, ink and paper. Evidently Silent Dave had been writing for nthe she possibly he had not slept for the night, hen Bob had told everything, the Man from Idaho picked up his pad and pencil. ‘* You have come back to keep your prom- ise?” he wrote. - ‘You want me to take you to Black Dirk?” questioned Bob. Dave bowed, his eyes pees ‘*What do you want of him?” The Westerner hesitated, finally writing: ‘“That should be of no interest to you now that you have found your sister. I want him!” ‘You mean to kill him?” Silent Dave turned away and walked the length of the room and back. When he stopped before the boy again, there was a dancing fiend in his eyes. He wrote on the pad: ‘‘ His life belongs to me! I would take 1’ “Then I’ll have to throw up my job,” de- clared Bob. ‘‘I can’t take no hand in a game of murder.” ~ » hed 7 me es ee ee a f- , i 2, ‘ Spotter Bob in New York. CHAPTER XV. SILENT DAVE’S STORY. SILENT Dave did not seem so very much surprised, although a look of regret passed across his face. ‘* [ll give ye back all the money you has paid me,” the boy added, diving into ‘his own pocket and pulling out a purse. . ‘‘I don’t take plunks fer doin’ nothin’.” But the Man from ’Wayback would not have it, as his vigorous gestures implied. ‘* No,” he wrote; ‘‘I do not want it back.” With two steps, he reached the table and caught up the paper on which he had been writing, and then he placed it in Bob's hands. ‘‘Do you want me ter read it?” questioned the lad, “Read!” flashed the pencil on the pad. ‘Then, perhaps, you will aid me in finding my game. It is true—every word!” While Silent’ Dave walked the room, Spotter Bob Braddock read what he had written. It was the story of his life from the time he first met Black Dirk until the desperado did him an injury the laws of earth could not atone for. It is not neces- sary to give it in full. Briefly, Black Dirk had lured the younger sister of the Silent Man away, under pretense of marriage, and Dave had followed the wretch to the wilds of the West, it being his intention to hound Dirk from place to place and ruin him in some way at last. He had thought this much more satisfactory than taking the vil- lain’s life. For a time, Dave was successful... He drove Dirk—whose true name was Belton Elvaun—from one place toanother, publicly disgracing him several times. At length, Dirk fled to a wild mountain camp in Idaho. He had in reality married a beautiful wo- man and hada child—a girl; but when Dave thought of his betrayed sister, who had, in her despair, taken her life, there was no pity in the brother’s heart. Hetracked Dirk down again and appeared in the camp, but in disguise. Then he set about disgracing the villain in the sight of the wild men with whom he had already become hand and glove. Dave saw how his opportunity = ap come about, for Black Dirk was supporting himself by gambling, his tricks being very slick and hard to detect. The tireless trailer knew the game of poker from start to finish, with all its fine points and delicate shadings, and one night he sat downiin the yrincipal saloon of the camp, with his dead- ly foe facing him across the table! Black Dirk had not penetrated Dave’s newest dis- uise, They played, and fora time the game ran very evenly, for both were skillful. No one had been able to hold his own with Black Dirk in that town, and, the bettin being heavy, a era pe spectators gatherec qT e trailer watched his It came, He saw Dirk “hold out” a card to make him four of a kind, In an instant the tracker had reached across the board, grasped the gambler's wrist, jerked it above his head and exposed the trick to the specta- tors. Dirk tried to draw a weapon and shoot, but the black muzzle of Dave’s revol- ver yawned before his eyes. Then the tracker threw off his disguise and told the spectators the story of the ras- cal’s deeds. He painted Dirk in the black- est colors, and when he had finished, the card-sharp sat pale as a sheet before him. With a fierce oath, Dirk swore to live until he had cut Dave’s tongue out of his mouth! That night the whooping citizens of the camp rode the gambler out of town on a rail, his naked body being decorated with a coat of tar and feathers! Three months later, while trying to get about the table. time. by a gang of outlaws. And his deadly foe was chief of the band! . | track of Dirk once more, Dave was captured ° Then Black Dirk kept his oath. Bound hands and feet, the avenger of a sister's wrongs was taunted and reviled by the tri- umphant dastard. Dirk flashed a keen knife before Dave’s eyes, laughing fiendishly as he declared that was the blade with which he would cut out the brother’s tongue. He tried to make Dave cringe and beg, but failed. Then one Of his strong satellites, at his command, flung himself on the bound man and fastened a pair of sinewy hands on Dave’s throat. The wretched prisoner was strangled until his tongne was forced from his mouth, so that Dirk could have his terri- ble revenge! It was’ months after that when Dave re- covered to find himself in a hospital at Den- ver. He remembered nothing that had taken place from the moment he was choked into unconsciousness until he came to his right mind, in the hospital. And then he discov- ered he was speechless—his tongue was gone! He could make sounds which sounded like some words, but the noises were so horrible they always frightened strangers, and so he ceased attempting to speak at all. When he was strong enough to be dis- charged from the hospital, he set out once more upon the trail of Black Dirk, to kill the man without mercy. Twice, in New Orleans and in Chicago, he had nearly accomplished the purpose of his life, but the watchful Dirk slipped him both times, The arch vil- lain fled, now plainly in terror of his terrible foe. And finally, Dave had tracked him to New York. It was a fascinating yarn, vividly writ- ten, horrible and blood-chilling in places, At the close, the Man Without a Tongue stated that something told him he would soon square accounts with his enemy. He had written the story to carry in his pocket, so that he might not be classed as a common brutal murderer, His last statement was that he would not be taken alive by the po- lice and brought toa bar of justice to an- swer for his act, if he did kill Dirk. When Bob had read it all, he stole a look at the man, who was pacing the floor in great agitation. A terrible thought had come to him, and now it grew stronger and stronger. He believed Silent Dave’s mind was un- balanced! Without looking at Bob, the avenger seemed to understand that the boy had fin- | ished. He made a gesture which plainly asked what was thought of the story. ‘*T don’t wonder you want his scalp,” said Bob; and he spoke the truth. The pencil flashed across the pad, asking: ‘Will you aid me now?” ‘‘Cuan’t. I don't blame you none, but killin’s killin’, an’ I don’t care about takin’ a hand in nary murder trial.” ‘Then I will go it alone. hand!” Bob did not stay much longer: he was anxious to get away. At parting, the Silent Man wrung him warmly by the hand, looking into his face in a manner that be- tokened regard. Bob promising to come again, hurried down the stairs. The young spotter had a story to tell Frank Anson—a story that was so interest- ing it seemed like a chapter out of a novel. ‘‘Now,” said Bob, as he noted it was already daybreak, the sun coloring the east- ernsky with fiery gold, ‘“‘our next strike is fer Willis Steele, the cashier.” Something brought Steele early to the bank that day. He wore a troubled face—a desperate face—as he ascended thu steps at twenty-five minutes to ten o’clock, nearly half an hour before time to open the bank, . ‘¢ Mr. Steele,” A bright-faced boy came running up the steps. ** Well?” The time is at The word was uttered rather impatiently, for Steele was in a horrible mood, ire Ce i - , , i a (a * ~~ mee) | Fe ‘ .| se yf i 4 a | “ “3 | 7 * - Af z + ’ > — pie’ , HA - 1 - - »’ “wt ‘ 4 4 ¢ . y ‘7 © & a ee ud ; - ’ “a S| oe 7 * ‘ q > A ais j £ re a “ - d ~ : ‘* 4 ms Te at e 4 > i ve, y ' “\ if : | " a ? , Ve » 4 7 “~ ft 7 tk e) o* a de % é ;" , ar 7. BY * + Pe a "¢ o 3 a _ 4. +. ~, +S C , KX P a * a. rs’ ss : . - " oe. is YY Qi ‘Ld in i rs “a of ‘ mh 4 ° ts 2 el Ts | iJ ci} e ¥ t ry ; e’ tn ‘ a? we 4 > eo y* *... ‘ - +. > . -| « a lh) By = a? Per Ls. ae ~ a 4 ‘J 2. eet J \egee ny a J ie (us ae , cr ° am - Pe . s 4 > - cs)