Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 1092 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

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There’s only one thing I don’t see, and that’s the real stuff to take away the chills.” Tom Field smiled as he answered: ‘fT suppose you mean the whisky. I am sorry we have none in the hut. My friend and IL are what they call temperance people, and we don’t indulge in whisky atail. e find that we get on, just as well, without it.” Tomlinson nodded his head gravely, as he ob- ‘Served: “ Dunno but what ye’re right, Doc. It’s bad for the narves, I've see’d the time when it knocked my hand all to blazes, when I wanted to do my prettiest at a match. A _cold water man keeps the same all the time, You're better without it, Charley.” Long Charley sighed deeply as he took the coffee-pot and drank a long draught. ‘“T s’pose it’s all right,” be said,as be put it down: “but it ain’t the real fire-water stuff that burns ye all the way.” | Then he set to work at his dinner with an ap- petite that his ride had sharpened, and when the meal was over the old man, who had main- tained a stolid silence all the time, suddenly said to Tomlinson, at whom he had been glanc- ing in a strange way several times during the meal: ‘ ‘‘Excuse me, stranger; but whar was you raised?” Tomlinson looked at bim as if he bardly un- derstood, and Old Cross-Eye continued: “No offense; but you’re as like a man I on’st ‘knew, as you can stare; and mebbe you know- ved bim?” ‘ ‘* What was his name?’ asked Tomlinson, ‘“ His name were Tomlinson, and he came from New York,” said Old Cross-Eye, with a certain tightening of the lips that showed how the memory affected him. Tom Field glanced at him quickly, but the old man showed no further sign of emotion, and Tomlinson said, witb some surprise: ‘‘ Rackon that must have been my father, sir. That was whar he come frum; but he’s b’en dead these ten year.” ‘‘And your mother?” asked the old man ina Jower tone,’ *‘ Excuse me, sir, but what was doer Christian name? I have a reason in axin’— _you’ll excuse an old man’s curiosity.” The gambler smiled, for he was a good-natur- ed fellow at bottom, and he saw in the old re- -cluse only a queer old man, who had the crook- -edest eyes he bad ever seen in a head. ‘‘ Her name wes Martha,” he answered—“ at Jeast father allers called her Mattie. But she died afore he did. I’m what they call a lonely erpban, gentlemen, and I’ve took keer of myself ever since I was knee to a ’skeeter.” Old Cross-Eye had watched him eagerly as ‘be spoke, and when he bad finished theold man beaved a slight sigh, as he said: “Thankee, sir. That’s what I wanted te es. L wpa +s —, hen be subsided into silence again, and th gambler turned to Field, to say: r ‘‘We beard you shootin’ as we came up. Practicin’, I suppose. Air you much on the sboot? se dite was T had fired month ago never a pistol; Sut | took it into my head that, if oxher men, pe tages do a could. What do you say to a lit- tle mate Long Charley almost bounded from his seat, vas he ejaculated: ; | ‘Stranger, that’s my best holt. I’ll shoot ye fur the stamps, any time ye say. And as far Jack, bere, if be ain’t shook too much fur his work, he kin jest give me p’ints and discount me Old Cross Eye said quietly: “ ‘* How many balls can you put into the same bole, stranger. ef it aia’t a oncivil question?” Long Charley smiled, as be answered; “ Depends on tbe size of the hole stranger, and tthe distance, What do you fire at, hyar?” Tom Field rose, ‘“Come and see,” was all he said, and he led the way to the corral, where the cattle were ‘mostly lying down in the grass, in the heat of the afternoon, chewing thecud, Tomlinson and bis friend, full of interest, fol- lowed, and came to the place whence bad come the firing which they bad heard when they first came in, A large live oak stood by itself at a little dis- tance from the edge of the corral, and on it a 1 pa of about three feet square bad been blazed, with an ax, so as to make a white panel. _ In the midst of this panel a long spike bad been driven into the tree, and a dark blotch ap- qpeared all round the base of the spike. % = e: + ve . ad at gr as — e © ° 7 _ 3 oS ° : ¥ i oe ‘> ox ‘ cra efi 4. : 49 : A tes. oA - ~ ee = ~? ; : . ° - 5 a at ; E * - . | seen him carrying into the jacal. ET = : “ ~se wae ~~ eee J Chet SP dn haa oe oy <2 ee Pe Be NO a a eas — 4 ee . oe Ese nde gS Oe cety ee ae . — - 6 Tom led the way up to the tree, and showed them that the dark blotch was the effect of a number of bullets that had been splintered on the summit of the spike, the fragments of which had made the marks on the tree. The circum- ference of the blotch was about two inches, and there was not a single well-defined hole in the whole space. “There,” said Tom quietly. ‘‘I don’t call myself much of a shot, yet; but 1 hope to be- come so, in time. You, I presume, Mr. Tom- linson, can beat that all to pieces; for you are famous, all over Texas, as the best quick shot in the State. All I profess to do is to bold the pistol straight, and bit the same place every time, You see, if the ball misses the head of the spike, there must be a hole in the wood, I | try SE to meke one, These are what I shoot with, He showed the big revolvers that they had They were of the ordinary pattern of Colt’s patent, and carried a large bullet in a cartridge. Tomlinson looked at the tree in silence for some time, before be said anything, and then he usked: “Did you make that shooting, as fast as you could pull the triggers, sir?” ‘‘Oh, certainly,” answered Tom. ‘‘It is quick cover that I am trying to get at.” CHAPTER XVII. / THE SHOOTING- MATCH. TOMLINSON listened to what be hud said, and answered him with great gravity: ‘If you can do that for money, sir, you can beat balf the men in Texas, and bave very little to do to beat the other half.” ‘“‘Tf Tean doit for money? You mean on a bet? I am sorry to say 1 don’t bet, sir,” respond- ed Tom, civilly. Tomlinson shook his head, “°Tain’t no test to shoot all alone like this Tho real test is when ye’ve got yer money on if. Look hyar. Ill bet ye a hundred dollars, if ye’ve got it, ye can’t do that, afore my face, and me lookin’ on.” As he spoke the desperado pulled out a bag from his belt and showed the gleam of gold, the only coin of the Texan, who does not believe in paper. “T dar’ you to cover that,” he said. ‘* Thar’s two hundred dollars in that bag, and if you've got one hundred, [ll bet this to it, you can’t send twelve shots into that spike, without stop- pin’, or makin’ a hole alongside the sp‘ke.” Tom shook his head, ‘*T have told you I don’t bet,” he said. Tomlinson smiled. “You're a deep one, stranger. Well, then, I'll bet ye J kin do it.and you can’t. Is that fa’r? I want to make a bet with ye, anyhow.” ‘* And that is just what you cannot do!” said Tom, with the same smile as before. “ Butl tell you what I can do with F Sed you wish.” ‘‘ And what is that?’ asked the gambler, with all the eagerness of his class to get a bet. ‘* We can make a little prize and shoot for it,” the young man suggested. In a moment the gambler had taken from his pocket a very handsome watch, set with dia- monds, witha heavy gold chain. It was just the sort of a thing that a man of bis class puts bis money int& in time of high water, and sends to bis uncle in time of need, x | “Thar,” he said, ‘Cover that if ye dar’. That watch cost five bunner dollars. oy ee got anything you kin put up that’s as g as met for a prize? If ye have, stranger, trot ou . Tom smiled. ‘ T never had such a handsome watch as that in all my life; but I have something that I value asmuch, I will offer to the winner of the match a good horse.” Tomlinson looked round eagerly, ‘Whar is he? What’s his breed?” ‘Only a broncho,”-replied Tom, with a laugh, ‘but he’s a paint broncbo, aod as pretty asa picture. If you are so generous as to put up that watch as the prize of the best marksman of three, I can only do my best.” Tomlinson put the watch back in bis pocket, as he said, with the driest of sniffs: ‘Thankee for nothen, young feller. I don’t put that watch ag’in’ a paint broncho. uy all want of them, fur fifty dollars, I'll ro up fifty ag’in’ your paint, if he’s a good oss, parley what'll you put up?” ~ Long Charley hesitated; for he knew that he was no match for the gambler by his side, and he did not know what the other could do. So he hedged, by offering to put up twenty as bis share, for he bad not the same chance as the rest, and it was not fair for the best shot to take all, So it was arranged that the three prizes were to be distributed as follows: ‘ The paint broncho was to be the first prize; the fifty dollars was to go to the second best man; and the third man was to get twenty dol- lars. S That settled, the three men nulonded: thelr. | and set to clean- istols, changed the cartridges fn the barrels, in preparation for the match. od ¢ s ¥ Old ‘Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. ber. l kin omlinson showed the regular desperado’s such a good 15 arms, all glittering with gold chasing, and ivory butts; Long Charley had a pair of self-cockers, which, while not as “fancy” as those of Tom- linson, had the merit that they were the easiest pulling pair the gambler had ever handled. Field bad only the common pistols he had bought at Satanstown, with their plain stocks and dingy barrels, that showed frequent usage, from the way in which the blueing bad been worn off. Tbe distance to the spike was measured from a spot, which showed, by the fact of the grass being worn away, that it bad been wit gear A used before. It was just twenty-four yar from the spike. “ Now, young feller, go abead, and show what ye kin do,” said Tomlinson, with something very like a sneer, for he was nettled at the idea that any one could do such shooting as the spike showed. Tom Field bowed and raised bis pistol. os ~ ONE —TWO —THREE— FOUR—FIVE— ] 9 Tbe shots were fired, as rapidly as he could pull the triggers and cock again with one hand, and the whole six shots did not occupy quite as many seconds in their delivery, : Every one hit the spike, for they coald see the spattering of the bullets as they were sbat- tered on the head, and scattered all over the white panel of the tree. Tomlinsdén watched the firing with a face that was growing anxious as he looked. This young man, who had only begun to shoot a month be- fore, was making such practice that be felt he could not beat it, and doubted whetber he could equal it, ‘ He raised his own pistol, however, and fired at the spike with such good aim that be never missed the head, and made no hole in the white. But to do it he was obliged to take a little more time, and the delivery of the shots occu- pied nearly ten seconds. ne he turned away from the tree, he said pet- tishly: ’ ‘*T oughtn’t to be shootin’ at all to-day. I ain’t what I used to be. This confounded wound bas bruk’ up my narves all to pieces, Go ahead, wp, 40 Charley came in with bis self-cockers and fired over bis left elbow, using it as a rest, so that be managed to do the same as the rest, and the white panel round the spike was still un- stained by any bole from a bullet. Tom Field laughed, as he said: “No decision yet, gentlemen. How shall we settle this?” | ‘‘ Try the wheel and fire business,” said Tom- linson, sharply. ‘‘Tbis stand up and aim ain’t no test. Turn yer_back to the tree and walk away from it to“the scratch; then wheel and fire at the word. That’s what shows whetb- er a man’s got the nerve or not.” ‘Please show me what you mean,” said Tom, modestly. Tomlinson marched to the tree; set his back against it, and then marched out again to the — where be had stood when be shot before. soon as he got there, he wheeled round and fired at the - e. A little hole appeared by the side of the iron, but it was within half an inch, and he said, as he pete to it: _* Let’s see you beat that, young feller.” ‘I'm afraid I can’t,” said Tom, modestly. “I never practiced that way.” ‘““Then own up you’re beat and give us the int broncbo,” said Tomlinson, roughly; for e could be as rude as any one if he chose. Tom drew bimself up, as he answered: “‘ Certainly, I will, when you bave won it, /I will try your way of s ng. I never saw it fore. He walked slowly up to the tree, and set his a against it; then wheeled again and came ek, When he finally fired, he hit the tree, but not the spike, and Tomlinson’s face cleared up, as he said: * That’s a equar’ beat, young feller. The hole ain’t less *n three inches ont from the spike. You’re beat. Come, Charley, let’s see who takes the fust prize, you or me; and who’s nummer three.” | Charley tried his luck, with the result that. he put his shot into the tree about an inch and a balf from the spike, and inside the line where Tom Field’s sbot bad pierced the wood. He was very exultant over his victory, and swore roundly that ‘he could whip the bull at shootin’.” Tom Field took his defeat with the same quiet first, and gave the paint broncbo to To at once. It turned out to be a very handsome little animal, spotted and speckled like a carriage so proud of, when they get them, to caracole u tee the Alameda. ) wate . horse he was more than satisfied. He was in ~. - skin off any man in Texas, bar Jack Tomlinson, calmness that had distinguished bim from the dog, one of the kind that Mexican hidalgos are — ‘For Tomlinson, who was a regular dandy, it. | was a genuine prize, and when be had tried the humor that he brought up the sub-- *. ae 4 ile iat ~* = ws “ate = © ©