Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 991 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

o~ 2 | I'wo Dudes from Doomed Camp. town in the heart of the Mariposa Range, for, indeed, it seldom was absent; but this mystery, this new food for talk, was so out of the ordinary that the peo- ple of Shakedown stood aghast at it. A stranger had been found dead at the edge of the camp. If he had quietly sat down and died at the foot of the rock where he was found by Alkali Tom, it would not have been so bad, or if he had staggered into The Comet and died of too much drink it would have elicited no comment; but he had been killed. He was a man of middle age and strik- ingly handsome. Everything had been done by the as- Sassin to prevent identification, and there was nothing on the clothes or about the body that gave the slightest clew to the victim’s name or home, No one had ever seen him in the vicin- ity of Shakedown, no one had ever seen him anywhere, and the story of the foul deed held the whole camp in thrall. It was the night after the finding of the corpse, which had been taken to Goldbug Dan’s shanty at the end of the rambling street of Shakedown, and the lights of The Comet shone over its usual . crowd. The hour was seven and the stage from the east was momentarily expected to arrive. It came in on time and drew up in front of the place as if The Comet was the proper place for all visitors to Shake- down to alight and become acquainted with the elite of the mountain camp. On this occasion two young men stepped from the coach and came to- ward the retreat. “Leak thar! Two dudes, by Jove!” called out a large man in a mining shirt who leaned against the counter with a cigar- between his fingers. “‘ Now we will have a time, for sure. Just been waiting for something o’ that sort to relieve the 1onotony o’ camp life—” *“ What’s the matter with the stiff in Ben’s shanty?” “Oh, let him go! No one knows him and we must look to the happiness o’ the livin’.’’ By this time the young men had closed the door behind them and stood in the glare of The Comet’s lights. They were quite young and were dressed in good clothes, black coats, well-creased pantaloons and carried mon- ocles beneath the brims of their plug hats. They appeared for a moment dazed at the sight which met their gaze, and the assembled toughs of Shakedown seemed as much surprised to face them there. Both were athletic and no doubt agile, for their limbs were well rounded, and their faces expressive of intelligence and strength of character. If they had any baggage they had left it in the stage, but they seemed to have entered The Comet with all their traveling effects. “Just in time, gents,” cried the big man. “Billy Whiskers, the Lorelie o’ Shakedown, is about to give us a song.” This brought forth a laugh from the big man’s companions, while the dudes tipped their hats to Billy Whiskers, who had been pointed out by the giant. Billy was a consumptive little fellow whose head barely reached above the counter, and he glanced at his friends as he proceeded to clear his throat. ‘““What’ll you have, boys?” he que- ried. “ A rattler, Billy. Give us ‘ Annie Lau- rie’ or—” ! Give us the dickens!”’ cried the big man; who went by the name of Mountain —_——-——-. Kidd; “‘ Annie Laurie’s’ English, you know. Give something American—some- thing like ‘Sally in Our Alley’ or ‘ The Miner's Last Dream.’ ” Billy backed from the counter and east a look round upon the crowd. The two young strangers had stopped and stood close together while they pre- pared to listen. In another moment a cracked voice was soaring to the rafters of the place and Billy Whiskers was putting his whole soul into “‘ The Miner’s Dream.” He sang with a good deal of gusto, and all eyes were turned toward the new ar- rivals to see what they thought of the songbird of Shakedown, Lilly grew louder as he proceeded, but all at once his voice dropped to a plaint- ive sound as he told hor the miner died dreaming of ‘home and scenes far, far away.” “Pass the hat for Billy, the Patti 0’ Shakedown,” cried Mountain Kidd, tak- ing off his hat and throwing it toward the singer. ‘“‘ Chip in lively, boys! Billy needs the cash, and he’s savin’ it all for funeral expenses.” This might have been true, judging from the pallid face of the singer, and as the “ songbird” went round he bowed to those who threw something into the hat. The two dudes were liberal. Both chipped in and added considerably to Billy’s pile, after which one of them said: “Mr. Whiskers sings very well.” “Mister Whiskers!” repeated Mount- ain Kidd, a look of disgust settling over his face. ‘‘ Just think o’ that! Say, Bil- ly, don’t you want my pistol?” The singer shook his head with a smile, while the two youths got closer to- gether. “Mebbe you sing?” suggested Mount- ain Kidd, with a look at the pair. * No.” “Nor drink?” * Nor drink.” “Mebbe you’re card sharps?” “We are not. We're simply taking a look at the land out here.”’ “‘Dressed like Broadway dudes! It’s a wonder that you’ve struck Shakedown.” The younger of the couple laughed. “We've had a pleasant trip, so far. Indeed, we’ve enjoyed ourselves im- mensely. It was dry up at Briggs’ City, So we thought we’d drop down here and take in the sights.” ‘“ Don’t carry ’em off with you,” warned Kidd, “ because we may need ’em in the near future.”’ By this time a man who stood at one end of the counter, a rough fellow with an auburn beard and hazel eyes, had studied the strangers to his satisfaction, for, all at once, he strode from his place and stopped in the middle of the room. ‘How did you leave your father, Bob Minan?” he inquired, looking straight at the two visitors as he spoke, but they did not start. “ You know that’s your name,” he went on, singling out one of the pair whom he covered with his finger. “It’s just as easy for me to recognize you as to swim in a millpond. [ don’t purtend to know your pard, but you're Bob Minan’s boy, for his face is yours and his eyes—why, ma it, boy, you’ve got everything he ad!”’ : “Go a little slow, Larry. You’re liable ter be mistaken, and if you ar’ you’ll have ter set ’em up—’ “T’ll do nothing o’ the kind! I know that young man. Bob Minan was whipped out o’ Camp Rattlesnake three years ago for girl stealing—”’ The face of the youth addressed by the man with the blonde whiskers grew suddenly red. “If you call my father Bob Minan and say that he was whipped out of a eamp three years ago you lie!” he flashed. “That’s it!” shouted Mountain Kidd, always ready for a scrap if he was not to be the principal participant. “I told yer, Larry, that you’d git yer foot in it up ter yer boot-top. Go it, youngster! It’s a free-for-all in Shakedown.” Larry felt that he had to do something to hold his own among the men of the mountain camp, for he sprang forward With his hands clinched and halted in front of the youths. “ We didn’t come to Shakedown City for trouble,” quietly said one of the pair. You don’t intend to make us fight be- fore we're half an hour in town.” If you say you’re not Bib Minan’s son, I do!” The dude squared himself in anticipa- tion of trouble with the Colorado tough, and the spectators gathered round to see the fun. Larry looked again at the young man and took in his good clothes, which con- trasted so strikingly with his own rough ones, but the next moment he began to dance on the floor like a pugilist. He suddenly lifted one foot and sent it toward the dude’s plug, the dirty toe “F the boot just grazing the top of the e, “lm a kicker from Kicker’s Valley,” cried Larry, hilariously. “I kin kick a Squirrel out o’ a pine’s top. Just see me try the tile agin.” But before he could repeat his kick, which might have resulted in disaster to the dude’s hat, the owner of the tile dodged toward Larry and _ suddenly caught him round the waist. The tough’s own hat was shaken off and rolled away, while the stranger lift- ed its owner from the floor. This display of strength startled every miner in the house, and they seemed spellbound. In vain did Larry struggle to release himself and to regain his footing. He was dexterously turned upside down, and, to the surprise of all, stood on his head in the centre of the bar- room by the dude, whose companion clapped his hands applaudingly. It was a scene never witnessed since the founding of Shakedown City, and Mountain Kidd did not know what to make of it. He was simply outclassed. Presently Larry was released, and he righted himself with a very red face and a sheepish look. He did not know what to do, for his comrades were looking chaffingly at him and he felt very mean. “JT stick to it!” he suddenly blurted. The dudes exchanged glances. “I stick to it!” repeated Larry, with emphasis. ‘‘ He’s Bob Minan’s boy, an’—” “We'll discuss that some other time, gentlemen,’ interrupted the young cham- pion. “Just now we’ll go to the hotel; I believe you eall it the Hotel Eden.” “Yes, kept by Oregon Dave, turned dude in his old age. Won’t you have a drink, gents, at my expense,” and Mount- ain Kidd turned to order up the liquids. “No, thank you. We'll be off. Will see you to-morrow. Oh, by the way, gen- tlemen, what’s this story about the dead man in Shakedown?” “Tt’s true. Want ter see him, eh?” “Not just now. To-morrow will do. Come, Ben.” The two sports—if such they were— passed from the place, but just beyond the door the vanquisher of Larry turned to his companion, and said in low tones: \ - a; : . t ¥) ip im f a i Soy er 4 phen * ie