Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 991 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

—_ 14 throat, and the stanzas vroduced a sen- sation. “‘There Game a man to a mountain camp, A man whose hair was gray; But a guilty villain lurked for him Where the cooling shadows lay; *Tis said no human eye was there The crimson deed to see; But justice soon will swing the wretcn From Shakedown’s gallows tree.” ““He died that night, the poor old man, Afar from friends and home, And yet the one who struck him down Among us still doth roam; Let vengeance smite the villain down, Though there was none to see, And let the vultures find his bones Upon the gallows tree.” Billy pausea and looked around the room. The face of changed color. “That’s enough!” he cried. ‘“ This isn’t the time nor the place for such tomfoolery.”’ But Billy did not mind the protest, and in another moment his voice was soaring again. “Stop!’’ thundered the One-armed, ris- ing at the end of the counter. “Let him sing,’ insisted some one in the rear of the crowd. ‘“ He’s struck something new an’—’” The Owl strode forward, with face aflame, and his six-shooter was thrust into the singer’s face. “Silence or death!” cried the ruffian. Billy desisted. His consumptive-like figure seemed to edge away from the counter and his eyes got a strange light. “Tf you dare!” cried another voice, at this juncture. ‘Shoot the songbird of Shakedown and you follow him before he touches the floor!” The One-armed glanced toward, this speaker, and those who followed his eye saw standing near the door, with a lift- ed revolver which covered the One-armed tough, Nelly, the waif of the Mariposa! “Sing it through, Billy!” she com- manded. the One-armed had CHAPTER XIV. THE LIVING DEAD. Billy Whiskers, thus adjured, resumed his song, amid the startling stillness. He finished, and with a glance of tri- umph at Orson, came forward and touched Nelly’s arm. “Come,” said he, dropping his. voice a little. ‘‘ Billy has sung his last song.”’ The two passed from The Comet to- gether, but beyond the door they stopped, while Billy spoke: “They have me doomed. I know it. I felt it before I entered The Comet; but I wanted to sing for Orson and his gang. Where is Alkali Tom?” Nelly pointed toward Tom’s shanty and Billy at once slipped away, while the girl turned homeward. “Nell?” ealled some one behind her, and she stopped at the door of her house, to see in the light the stalwart shadow thrown by a man. “You, Jerusalem?” she exclaimed as he advanced. “You back again? Do you know he is dead?” and the alarmed waif drew the man inside and shut the door. Then she lit her little lamp and set it on the table. Explanations followed and Nelly then took the package from her bosom and handed it to him. . “ Ar’ they all here?” asked Jake, “ and you have read them?’”’ Two Dudes from Doomed Camp. + eee —— ooo “T read only the will. I did not have the courage to read the other.” “TI see. It tells the story of your parents.” “Read it and say if I should look it over,” requested the girl. Jake opened the last named document and bent over it, watched eagerly by the silent girl. She saw; by the change that came to his face, that he was excited. Jake did not speak until he had fin- ished the last line, and even then for a moment he remained silent. “Tt’s all here, Nell,” said he, finally. “All?” asked the girl. “Should I read it?” “Yes but not just now. It’s a strange story. Bandy was a strange man—a hu- man mystery, but he knew how to tell the story. He kept nothing back. All is revealed; even the identity of the Un- known found dead by the white rock.” Nelly started and caught the paper from her friend’s hands. “T would know that. I merely glanced over the writing and saw somewhere the name of Diamond Donald strangely con- nected with my own.” “Tt is thus connected in several places. Diamond Donald was a singular man. He had a history which is here given—a history which Nickell knew so well.” “TY will not read the paper now,” de- cided the waif. “ Wait until this drama is played out. Listen!” Both Nelly and Jake sprang to the door and held it open, listening to a sound akin to the roar of wild beasts, which came up the street. Jerusalem drew his weapon and let it rest along his leg. “Down with the man who _ killed Mountain Kidd!” rose the cry, soaring aloft like a shout of vengeance. “That means me. They know I’m in town. They’re heading for this very shanty. The street seems full of ’em. Look, Nell!” “Oh, oh, Jerusalem! Why did you come back?” she exclaimed piteously. “ What will you do—what can you do?” “T can give ’em all the slip without goin’ out the door,” he smiled. “You cannot escape!” she declared. “Oh, what can I do?” “Don’t worry, little woman. I’m safe enough. You don’t know the secret pas- sage which leads to the Heart-of-Gold Mine. That is one of the things Bandy never imparted to you, child,” he ex- plained. “ Death to the man from Caleveras! ” rang out on the night air. The crowd in the street halted. It had sighted another victim, for some one bounded toward the nearest shanty, as if in pursuit of some one flitting in the shadows there. “Tt’s Billy Whiskers! He is in the hands of his old foe!” cried Nelly. She flung the door wide now and stepped out, but Jerusalem held her back. The Singer of Shakedown indeed had fallen into bad hands, for he had been dragged forward, and the ruffians, led by Orson, hemmed him round. The little man looked into the fierce faces of his enemies without flinching, and stood his ground, but he was sud- denly jerked off his feet and thrown into the air by half a dozen hands. Nelly uttered a scream at the song- bird’s danger and looked at her com- panion. “ Billy is doomed,” she moaned. “ Or- son wants vengeance for that last song.” The upthrown Billy had fallen back into the crowd and the whole set of ruf- fians seemed to fall upon him. ee Nell jerked from Jake’s grasp and ran forward. As she approached, the mob separated and on the ground where it had done its work lay a motionless figure, and the desperadoes saw her bend over the song- bird of Shakedown while they looked on with uncompassionate eyes. “Finish the Man from Caleveras next!’’ shouted Orson. ‘“‘ There must be none of them left by morning. This is our night, and Shakedown shall witnes3 the triumph!” “ Down with him! Death to Jerusalem Jake! Long live Orson, the One-armed King of Mariposa! ”’ A figure which, the desperadoes did not see slipped back into Nelly’s house and Shut the door. The mob swept past. In the moonlight stood the Hotel Eden, with the form of its proprietor on the porch, and Oregon Dave seemed to guess the intentions of the band. “Tell him we're here!” cried Orson, authoritatively, halting in front of the place. ‘“‘He’s with you, we know, for he came out awhile ago, Our spy saw him!” “He is not here. Jerusalem Jake, if he is the man you’re looking for, is not under my roof.” “You lie! Fetch him out!” Oregon Dave backed to the door, but half a dozen men leaped upon the porch and faced him with drawn weapons. ‘Search the house!” ordered Orson. “Search it it is! Forward!” shouted the gang: The men of the two camps, led by the One-armed Sport, poured into the bar- room. This proved a little too tempting for the band, and some sprang over: the counter, pushing Dave back into a corner and holding him there with menacing threats. In a jiffy bottles and glasses vanished and the crowd dashed toward the stairs. ‘‘He’s up there,” averred Orson. ‘“ He was seen to enter here within an hour. Drag him down!” The old staircase creaked beneath the heavy tread of the mob, but the men pressed on. In another moment the foremost would | have been at the top, but for an unex- pected event. Suddenly some one fell back, with a ery that drove those below him further down, and the gang stood once more in the barroom without knowing what had taken \ place. “Don’t let one man beat you back!” urged Orson. “Stand back and let me take him.” He sprang to the door and then to the stairs, his fate aflame with passion. He was three steps up the flight when <i ai paused and reeled against the wall. “ Merciful heavens! Has the dead come to life?” he almost moaned, as he stood like one struck breathless by some ap- parition from spiritiand. His hand fell nerveless at his side and the six-shooter gripped by it nearly dropped from his grasp. The figure on the stairway advanced, with eyes of steely gray, fastened upon the ruffian chief. It did not speak, but the desperado did not wait. He leaped down the steps, halted a moment in the barroom, and then, his face as white as a cloth, he dashed from the house. The others followed. “Tt was the dead!” cried Orson, look- ing back at Hotel Eden. “It was Dia- mond Donald, the man planted yesterday on the hill!” a r : - = * I ane ~ O A. “the en oe an od —_ som LL a, : | , | | * « ar r pe . LP Ms a a