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Pulp Fiction, 1896 · page 10 of 16

Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 971 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 971 — page 10: Pulp Fiction, 1896

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> 2a a « + ote dep Se - “ > » a me a ~ 4 " . - - enn Bede pt? PG ee ee ee Pee ang, » _ °F _ » > on ‘a 2 ~ ‘s oe mer a Pe 5 eee ee an . — te CE. se Hl es a Var coe } ~- ee i ST - ad =a ate oy cup a » . < : -- : aa nae DP my? & z y i= “* ”~ PCA OE FF tego tows & . , =’. i. ree *. “ iv” Se, Cees Pre’ ~* ~ oh Ts é ae See at a 8 + ~ oy ‘2 = ~ i ae . or) —~—— rn > -~ ’ a ~ F stood staring at the fool and h (hey the street turned to look after him. The mail-bag carrier hastened forward, One of these was a gentleman in rusty black, who wore goggles and lacked two front teeth—the latter strikingly no- ticeable owing to the fact that his upper lip was short and he wore no mustache. His companion was a Chinee, clad in the orthodox fashion, who walked with a trot, carrying his master’s baggage— for it was self-evident that he was the other’s servant. He was as yellow as saffron, his head was shaven, and the tip of a queue stuck out from under his hat behind. Now, there lived at this camp of Para- dise a man whom, in the rapid action of our story, we have heretofore found no time to introduce. In fact, it was not nec- essary that he should be introduced before the time when he would be called on to play his part. He was a silly fellow, whose name was understood to have been Kyler Kyle at some time or other in the past, but who was now commonly known as “ Ky-Ky.” A man of uncertain years, he was pe- culiar in more ways than one. That he was daft was not to be questioned for a moment, and yet at times he would sit for hours in one position, as if he were the most profound of philosophers, try- ing to penetrate the unknowable. More than once he had been seen.to leap sud- denly to his feet out of one of these brown studies, with a cry upon his lips, as if a burst of intelligence had come to him; but it would be only a momentary flash, for the light would go out again in- stantly, and he would remain ‘ Ky-Ky,” the fool. On this day of which we write he had been sitting for a\long time on a bowlder a little distance out of the camp along the foot trail that led down to the stage road. The mail-bag carrier had noticed him there on his way down to meet the stage, and when he returned, with the mentioned new arrivals in tow, the camp idiot was still in the same position. The carrier had spoken to him on going down, but Ky-Ky had not so much as glanced up. There he sat, his long beard: —which, by the way, was his pride— almost touching the ground, motionless and staring. As the carrier approached on his return, however, the man sprang suddenly to his feet. The trio were almost upon him, and the fellow uttered a cry that caused the man of rusty black and his Chinee servant to stop short with a start of surprise, and thus for a moment they at them. But it was only for a moment, and Ky-Ky wheeled and ran in the direction of the camp, screaming at the top of his voice. “Wull, I’m blamed!” saculated: the carrier. “Who was that?” asked the man in rusty black. The carrier explained, briefly, anda added: - “But I never seen him take off like that before. It must have been that you skart him, I reckon, stranger.” “Impossible. My appearance would not frighten a cat, for I am the meekest of men—Moses himself wasn’t any meek- er. No, his mania must have run sud- denly away with him, I take it.” “ Somethin’ is makin’ him run, that is sartain.” It was peculiar, to say the least, for Ky-Ky was still running and was still screaming as he ran. | $Straight to the Jolly Polly he was seen go and to enter, and the denizens cn filled with interest, and those whom he was conducting kept pace with him. . an wie ri ~< : * b ’ » Deadwood Dick, J r.’s, Oath. CHAPTER XI. THE GREAT EGYPTIAN HEALER. The Jolly Polly was owned by Peter Eastwood, needless to say. It was the saloon par-excellence of the gulch, the favorite place of resort, and the nearest approach to a hotel the camp afforded. The mayor’s headquarters was there, likewise the post-office, and about this time of day the saloon was always well filled. On this occasion, all the camp being idle, a great crowd was present. Eastwood was talking with Job Turner, Hot-head Smith, and some others, con- cerning the man whom they had sent for by the mail that had recently gone out, when into the room dashed Ky-Ky, still yelling, almost breathless, and his eyes wild with a strange light. Everybody looked at him in surprise, naturally, and the mayor leaped to his feet, his face suddenly pale. Ky-Ky opened his mouth as if to an- nounce something, but in the same mo- ment the curtain seemed to fall—as it were, the light went out of his eyes, and he was the same as he had been before. “Thunder!” ejaculated the mayor, re- covering quickly from his momentary shock. “I did not know but what we were to witness another tragedy. I did not know but there was a murder- er at the fellow’s heels ready to cleave him in two, the way he came yelling.” Ky-Ky, still panting, was looking fool- ishly around. “What was the matter with you, Ky- Ky?” the mayor demanded. The fool of the camp only stared, with- out making any attempt at replying. He never talked, so it was useless to ask him the question. “ He’ll never tell you,” said. Hot-head Smith. “It was one of his fool spells workin’ off, that was all. But them spells git worse, don’t ye think so, may- or? And they come oftener, too.” “Yes, you are right,” the mayor an- swered, absently. “ Hillo! what ther mischief have we’ hyer? ” So cried Hot-head. The exclamation was caused by the entrance of the carrier, with the queer pair of newcomers at his heels. The mayor glanced up, as did every- body else, for matter of that, and the public curiosity was roused to the highest pitch immediately. “A preacher!” cried one, “ A fakir!”’ another. “ And a heathen Chinee ter boot!” “Vas, we'll boot him, you kin bet we wull!” “No, not ef he will washee-washee; we need one hyer mighty bad.” These and as many more remarks in a brief moment while the new arrivals were advancing into the room. The man in rusty black stopped, and the Chinee directly behind him dropped his handbags to the floor, standing like a statue waiting to take them up again. “Ahem!” said the man in rusty black, clearing his throat for action. “Is this a hotel, gentlemen? ” “Well, it is about the nearest thing in that line you will find in this town,” answered the mayor. ‘“ What can we do for you, sir?” “First of all, I want to bespeak lodg- ing for myself and my body. servant here, for one week at least. We may re- main longer, if your camp is in néed of my service.” “What is your business? ” asked East- wood, — : “T am a doctor, sir. Behold!” The man in rusty black thrust his hand ‘into an inside pocket of his coat and _—— —_ ~ mere + drew forth a- handbill might read it. It was worded thus: “DR. HUXLEY PETTIBONE, The Renowned Egyptian Specialist, “ Healer of all the Ills to which Hu-. man Flesh is Heir, now making his Grand Tour of the Western World, will stop at this place for a short time only. Patients examined free of charge. No cure no pay. Office hours from noon to midnight. Come to me, all ye that suffer. You state your case, and I will do the rest. Come.” “A doctor, eh?” sneered Eastwood. “Something of a quack, I suppose.” “Sirrah!” straightening up with dig- nity and placing his hand on his breast. “You insult not only me, but the noblé profession.” “ Well, what are you gotng to do about it?”’ the mayor demanded, laughing. “Nothing, sir, nothing! We have to expect such things. Have you read my poster through? am backing up my ability? cure I expect no pay.” “Well, don’t take it seriously, placated the mayor, jest. attend to your wants. sir,” “T Bpoke only in a Do you not see that I: If I do not © My landlord there at the bar will — We have no rooms — in this building, as you must have ob- — served, it being only one story high; buf we have some cabins scattered around.” — “That will suit me exactly. Are the © cabins furnished? ” “One of them is.” “ Excellent! My servant, Chop Wong, can keep it in order for me, and If can devote the whole time to my business.” The landlord of the Jolly Polly, who also figured as post-master, had by this time distributed the scanty mail and was ready to attend to other business. -All the crowd had stood gaping at the stranger. “Jipsum, attend to this gentleman,” said Eastwood, authoritatively. -) On, Sti “Give him the cabin that murderer | had, it is all in order.” “Murderer!” gasped the man in rusty black. , | “Yes, He is gone, though, so.you need have no dread on that score.” “But, the bare thought of it! Have you no other cabin that is furnished?” ‘““Not another one, sir.” “Bless me, but it is terrible! I sup- pose I will have to endure it, though. I am no believer in ghosts, but it is not pleasant to sleep in a bed that recently | held a murderer.” ‘“You will get used to it.” “You spoke of it as a recent event; I suppose you hanged the wretch as he da- served? “On the contrary, sir, he got away from us. See that reward I have posted — there on the wall? The murderer’s ghost — will not give you any trouble, for he has not yet given it up.” “Ah!” with a sigh of relief. ‘ Never- theless, it will be a horrible situation, tit I get used to it. Do you understand it all, Chop Wong?” “Yep, me allee samee savvy,” Chinee chippered. “And you are not afraid?” “ Naw, me no flaid.” - That is the main point, then,’ Land-_ lord, we will take that cabin.” ~ All right, sir.”’ ‘ “What is your price?” “Five dollars for a week, <Wwhihoue® meals.” “A little high, but here is your money,” | handing over a bill. the S hts ms at in large type, | which he unfolded and held up so that all { ! ' . ‘ u > ‘ J . v : “And now, if you