Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 94 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

eee eee, Cl Though never seen in Deadwood, en costwme, his personal appearance was well known to ev- ery citizen. hey knew that there was a ease-spot on the left side of his soft sombrero- ike hat—that he wore a cavalry-button on his right shoulder, and that a few links of a gold watch-chain hung from his coal-black courser’s bit. Thus described, let us seek Midnight Jack, and for ourselves learn something of this west- ern Claude Duval. About the time when the ungenerous linch- pin cast Old Tanglefoot a wreck in the little valley, Midnight Jack rode upon the trail not many miles from the scene we have just left. He sat like a born horseman in the handsome Mexican saddle, and as he looked to the east, he removed his hat and pushed a mass of silken hair back from his forehead, His arms consist- ed of two heavy revolvers, whose butts pro- truded from his belt, and a handsome Ballard repeating-rifle—a weapon as famous as its own- er—was swung upon his back. ‘““The old curmudgeon has passed this place with his cargo,” the road-agent said, in a voice unlike that which highwaymen are popularly supposed to possess. ‘I don’t want to plunder him of his whisky to-night. If he was going the other way it would be another thing—dust and bricks on board. Let him take his cargo out and sell it. When he comes back, [ll tap the mine.” Midnight Jack’s eyes glittered with anticipa- ted triumph over the whisky-smuggler who at that moment was cursing the ill-luck of a break- down, and the next minute as he freed some of his steed’s dark mane from the thralldom of the bridle-rein, he continued in a disappointed tone: “Times are dull, Quito,” and he patted the horse’s neck to see the large and beautiful eyes turned affectionately upon him. ‘‘ If somethin lucky doesn’t turn up soon, we'll go down and try the Santa Fe routes awhile. There’s where they catch the silver coveys, and the pretty Mexican senoritas with more beauty than chink. Wouldn’t Deadwood rejoice to know that we had left the country? hy, they’d illuminate the infernal town, and drink themselves crazy. Well, we’ll give them notice of our removal by posting it on the trees.” The road-agent addressed his horse with a grim humor that exhibited itself in his eyes, and the darkness fell about him as he spoke. He had halted in an open part of the country, and the stars, as they glowed brilliantly in the heavens above, showed him the trail which he had made dangerous for some distance east and west. “Nothing here to-night. We'll go!” The Dakota brigand was about turning are when the crack of a whip not unlike the shrill report of a distant rifle fell upon his ears, and his eyes at once lighted up with the excitement that attends his calling. ‘‘Not so barren after all, Quito,” he hastily whispered to his horse, and galloped forward to a tree which, not far away, stood lone- ly beside the trail. Then, with one of the huge revolvers cocked, in his right hand, Midnight Jack kept his eyes fastened down the road, over which some kind of a vehicle was lumbering. : Louder and shriller resounded the whip never for one moment at rest, and a puzzled expression of countenance settled on the road- agent’s face as he rose in his heavy wooden stirrups, eager to see the approaching team. All at once a wild cachinnation, followed by a series of fiendish yells, drowned the reports of the whip, and the situation was instantly ex- plained to the road-agent. At the same time his horse gave a low snort indicative of disgust which attracted the rider’s attention. hk. ‘* Indians, Quito!” ejaculated Midnight. ‘‘They’ve struck a prize to-night, and they’re making merry over it. When the wild Sioux turn teamsters, look out for fun!” The wagon—for the noise told the keen senses of the road-agent that but one four-wheeled vehicle was approaching—continued to rattle over the not very smooth road, accompanied by real Indian yells. 3 At last and almost suddenly it came in sight, and Midnight Jack saw a scene for which he was not wholly unprepared. A common wagon, to which four strong-limb- ed mules were harnessed, greeted the brigand’s eyes. On each of the hindmost beasts sat a half- naked Indian, whose hands griped articles en- tirely strange to them—whip and lines. Nor was this all. At least ten savages were crowded into the bed of the vehicle, dancing like fiends, an filling the air with those wild sounds which — — Midnight Jack. had so often assailed the ears of Midnight ack, They had evidently imbibed liquor in no in- considerable quantities, and they’were pushing each other aboutin their drunken orgies, threat- ening to overturn the wagon or frighten the mules, already ungovernable, into a runaway. Midnight took in the situation in an instant. ‘The red devils have stolen our trade, Quito,” he said, between clenched teeth, and with a smile. ‘*‘ They’ve turned road-agents—infringed on our patent, as it were. I don’t intend to stand it. I’ve declared war against the whites, and I might as well begin it with the reds. You mean, dirty skunks! [ll put an end to your frolic by giving you tickets to dead land.” The wagon lumbering over the road had now reached a point almost directly abreast of the still unseen road-agent, and, as his hands shot up, a ‘‘navy” tightly clutched by each, his well- known “halt!” spoken in deep thunder-tones, fell upon the ears of the carousing Indians. In an instant of time, as it seemed, the orgies were hushed, and the savage who had the lines, rising in the stirrups, jerked the lead mules up- on their haunches, and prepared to leap to the ground, But the quick eye and trigger of Midnight Jack saw the action and checked it suddenly. The stricken brave fell back upon the mule, shot through the eye, while his companion with the whip, kissed the road before the report of the first dead shot had died away. Now ensued a scene of confusion and of— death! The terrible doom of their comrades appeared to sober the remaining Indians in the pi mst of aneye. There was a rash for the sides anc end of the vehicle, now standing stock-still in the road, but death overtook them before they could escape. The few who left the vehicle did so with bullets in their bodies, and never moved after they alighted on terra firma, Midnight Jack shot with the coolness of a Gatling. The revolvers cracked with automatic precision, and a red-skin always plunged for- ward with the flash. It is doubtful whether the astonished Indians caught sight of their terrible foe; but that they knew who he was was attested by their haste to get beyond his deadly aim. But without hope. The deadly pistols of the Road Terror con- tinued to pour their leaden messengers into the wagon, until the last red reveler pitched over the dash, and quivered in the agonies of death beneath the heels of the mules, ‘* Playing road-agent doesn’t pay when In- dians try it,” smiled the victor, looking at his deadly work as he calmly proceeded to re- charge the chambers of his pistol. ‘If I could meet with such fun as this every night, here I’d stay, away from the Santa Fe trail, even though there be no plunder in the sport.” When he had reloaded the formidable wea- pons he rode up to the wagon, speaking kindly the team as he passed by, and looked around upon the half-naked savages lying in the road. ‘*T kind o’ piled them in the wagon, I guess,’ he murmur approaching the vehicle, over whose side he leaned. The brilliant stars revealed a ghastly sight, for the wagon seemed filled with dead. But something besides the hideous red faces suddenly attracted the road-agent’s attention, and with a dazed ‘It can’t be!” he thrust one arm forward and Doce a savage aside. “ By the gold of Ophir! a girl!” he cried, and with the exclamation ringing from his lips, Midnight Jack leaped from the saddle and land- ed in the wagon. A moment sufficed to hurl the dead Indians to one side, and when the bandit rose from a stooping posttion he held a female figure in his arms, and was looking into the whitest and the Pon ee face his handsome eyes had ever be- eld. It was so white it was deathlike; there were no signs of life about it, anda of resent- ment lit up Midnight Jack’s eyes as they wan- dered from it to the Indians lying dead on every side. In the excitement of the moment, the bandit did not notice that the girl’s ankles were bound together; he was gazing into the white face. s he looked, own face assumed a wild expression; the ruddy color departing, left it as white as the one he held in his arms. ‘Merciful Heavens!” he cried; “I cannot be mistaken. If she is really dead, I'll exterminate the whole Sioux nation. I'll make their land a land of blood. Ah! Golden George will never carry out his threat now. Better dead, Dora, than his. But, why did you come out here? 3 Wake up! open your eyes and tell me about fa- ther. Am I cursed yet? Are you dead in my arms? I’ll leave the road now—leave it forever, The red devils shall curse the night they killed. Midnight Jack’s sister!” CHAPTER ITI, THE INDIANS WIN. “‘TLL wipe out the whole Sioux nation for this deed of blood!” Midnight Jack set his teeth hard behind this vow. He still stood in the unknown wagon amid the dead Indians, and with the inanimate form of his strangely found sister in his arms. As yet the girl exhibited no signs of life; the beautiful face, cold and marble-like, met his gaze with no return of expression, save that orbidding one of death, If the road-agent had laid his pistol hand over the heart he would have detected a faint movement which would caused his own to leap for joy. But, in his anger and his thoughts of dark revenge, he never thought of this. After awhile Midnight crawled from the wagon with his beautiful burden, which he de- posited gently upon a rich, soft plat of grass that seemed to invite its sleeper. | Then he methodically but quickly unharnessed the mules, and with a word and a blow sent them toward the valley where other scenes con- nected with our story were occurring. This done, the road-agent threw the dead Indians from the wagon and sought eagerly but vainly for something that might tell about his sister. An empty whisky-keg was the only thing left in the wagon, and the bandit’s eyes flashed sparks of living fire when he thought of the cruelty to which his sister had been subjected by the drunken fiends. But he had slain thens in the midst of their fiendish triumph. There were twelve red scoundrels less between Sully and Deadwood, While engaged as we have just described, nof an audible word dropped from Midnight Jack’ lips: but his flashing eyes spoke volumes, All at once he began to toss the bodies back into the wagon, nor. did he stop until the twelve lay ina ghastly heap in the bed. en he drew a piece of “keil” from his ket and wrote on one side of the vehicle hese words: “ Killed by Midnight Jack. This is but the beginning. Uncle Sam won't have to feed the Sioux much longer. Blood for blood ! It was the oath—the vow—of one of the brav- est men who ever touched a trigger, or sat a road-agent’s horse. Midnight Jack was satisfied with his writing, and as he turned again to the lithe figure repos- ing on the grass he said: ‘I mean every word—every letter of that inscription!” When he remounted his charger which had watched its master with almost human interest, the body of Dora lay in his arms, and Midnight Jack rode from the scene of his exploit. ‘“Tt’s the peeccicet place I can lay her,” he said to himself, unconsciously Speaking aloud as he galloped lightly away. ‘‘She used to like een leaves—when she was a little girl; and— less me! what was I saying? Isn’t shea girl A faint but pleasant smile illumined the road- agent’s face as he gazeupon the cold, expression- less features of his charge. ** Yes, she died before the evil days had time to fasten upon her. Mercy! what would have become of her in this Godless country? But what brought her away out here, anyhow? Id give my very life to know.” Talking in this and a like strain, the road- agent did not seem to note the progress of his horse; but he suddenly ieee the animal, which came to a halt in a beautiful spot not far from the banks of the Cheyenne. Indeed, if the bandit would have sent his through the little gap almost directly before him, he might have seen the moonlit waves of the tortuous western river. _ ; Several hours had d since his encounter with the red-skins who had fared so badly by his deadly pistols. The queen of nent had risen from her couch, and was flooding the land of Indian and bear with her soft silvery light which gave the trees a new foliage, and the wa- ter newer beauty. ; If the valley in which Midnight Jack had halted was beautiful at night, how much love- lier must it have appeared at day with the sun to lighten up every Auady nook, and exhibit its many flowers and birds? ECORME OOO KS (E (E@)