Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 1092 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

ne ey 3 a? . Punt : . That they understood it, was evident from the way in which they obeyed it. Twoof them jum off their horses at once, and crept through the fence, running toward Limpy, as he sat on bis horse. The men of the judge’s ranch were all out in the range, and Berkeley said to Limpy coldly: “Now, wy friend, if you are prudent, you ‘will go back at once, or these fellows will make ou. I can give up a call as well as ycu; but, if I do, it will cost you the most.” Limpy knew what he meant, The cowboys on foot had their long quirts in their hands, and were cracking them as they came, with the evident design of flogging him off his horse, which ‘they could do with ease, as he was unarmed. With a bitter curse, he said: ‘All right this time, stranger. It’s your trick; but the next time we meet, you'll besorry for this.” = Berkeley smiled contemptuously for his only reply; and the cowboys were coming g0 close that poor Limpy had to put bis pony to a gal- lop and ride away, leaving bis foe in possession of the field. Then the Englishman turned bis head to the otber man, whom he bad never seen but once, and had forgotten. The dress of the stranger puzzled him, and made him think that he had come on a despera- do of some sort, who wanted to see him. So he asked, with a penetrating look: ‘Well, my friend, did you want to see me ?” The stranger smiled. * Well, no, or I should have come to your place. I came to call on Judge Collingsworth.” Berkeley heard the words, and something in the tones of the voice told bim that the other was no ignorant Texamcowboy, For the first time since he had been in tkat ‘part of the world, he hesitated, and hardly knew what todo. With the coarse men he had accepted as types to deal with, he would have tried the “bounce game” that had been suc- cessful with Limpy; but this man was a gen- tleman in manners and speech, and Berkeley ‘did not like to play the bully in another man’s place, unless be was quite sure that there was m0 one at the window, listening and looking on. So be put on his most courteous and insinuat- lng air to ask: ‘Ah—I’m sure I beg your pardon; but have I not seen your face before?” ** Possibly,” returned Tom, coldly. “TI re- member yours, sir. But pardon me now. I shave a call to make here, and it is not exactly . ‘the proper thing to be waiting outside,” He turned bis borse to the house, and rode “up, tying it to one of the posts before the door. Berkeley allowed him to go on, and then gave a few words to the men who bad come and were expecting orders of some kind from bim. hey were off to the fence again, and the —— overseer went to the door, and arrived there, as it was opened by old Chloe, who started back at the sight of the stranger, and Cried out: ‘* De law sakes, honey! isdat you lookin’ so fine? I b’ard you was done gone dead, Marse Tom,” ' Tom Field smiled as be answered: ‘* Pm all right, auntie, Please tell the youn ladies and the judge that I’ve come, and woul dike to see them.” Chloe was about to close the door when the ‘tall figure of the Englishman appeared before her, aud Berkeley added: ‘* Ah, yes, and would you be so good as to take my card to the judge also? I havea little business with him.” Then the two men were admitted into the house, and ushered into the large cool parlor, where the white Indian matting, and the piano in the corner, gave an air of civilization to the ‘whole chamber, very rare in the back counties of Texas. Berkeley, being left alone with the stran- ger, and wanting to know who it could be, whom he half-recognized, coughed delicately and asked: ‘+ Where in the world is it I saw you last, sir? It seems as if 1 must know you.” Tom Field answered him, in the same cold manner that he had used, from the first minute he bad set eyes on the Englishman; ‘“You saw me, outside this house.” ** Indeed, and when?” “When your men made rufflans of them- selves, and you made a fight in the presence of the ladies. I saved the life of one of your men, and I bave only been sorry for it once, which has been ever since. Thatis all, sir. Iam the doctor who attended the man Tomlinson.” . Berkeley listened, and his face flushed slight- ly; but he gave no token that he was angry; for at that moment the judge, who had recovere from his fall, by this time, came into the room and stood looking from one to the other of bis visitors, with the cold and freezing dignity of a man who feels that he bas intruders in bis house. f His first words were sufficiently forbidding: “* Well, gentlemen, and to what am I indebted for the bonor of this visit?” He looked at Berkeley first; and the Englisb- man, whose trained impudence was vever at 4 loss for a word, and who had come there with the express purpose of seeing the judge, and es- tablishing himself on a familiar footing in the house, answered: be My dear sir, lam aware that my presence may not be agreeable—” “You are right, sir; it is not,” was the biunt reply. erkeley smiled, “Exactly; but I thought that, if = knew I had come to offer you what I would not offer the rest of these men, ycu might be induced to listen tome. You are not the same, judge. You see, we, who are men of the world, can understand each other. You are a gentle- man of the old school; a man- of education. You will pardon me for saying that; for, you know, we Englishmen call ourselves judges of what a gentleman is. We are what you call experts on the subject. Now, judge—” As the wily rascal spoke, be assumed the air of a titled scamp, who wants to wheedle a simple fellow into signing a bill for him, and went on: | ‘*T have come here to make an offer to you; but it must be done in confidence. Can I see you alone?” The judge, who had been taken in by the flattery of the aristocrat, hesitated and looked toward Tom Field, Then be said to the latter: ** And what is your business with me?” Tom bowed as he said: *T can wait, till you have got through with that gentleman, sir. [t concerns a sale. I have come to make you an offer for your ranch,” The judge eyed the young man keenly from head to foot, and then said shortly: ‘““T dont want to sell, sir. There is your an- swer.” : The tone was disagreeable, and the glance by which it was accompanied said, plainer than words: " Curse your impudence! How dare you come here? Tom Field rose with a smile from the chair in which he bad been seated. ‘That is plain, at all events, sir; but I think, if you would listen to what I have to say, you might change your mind, All I askisa few moments’ talk alone with you,” lt was not in the nature of the judge, who was a kindly Southerner, to be harsh long to any one; and his only ground of objection to the man before him was the fact that every- body in the county said he was a coward. Therefore he shrugged his sheulders, and re- lied: ee f course, if you have anything to say pri- vately, Field, I shall be bappy to hear it; but you bave not the stuff in you to make a rancher out here. Well, wait here till I come back. Captain Berkeley, be good enough to follow me,” Berkeley obeyed, with a look in bis eye that told of his triumph in having captured the out- works, and the judge led him from the room, while Field was left alone in the cool parlor. He sat there for a little while, as if he did not want to stir, looking about him in the cool shadows with a wistful gaze. He had been in that room before, when be bad been a cow-boy on the place, and the judge bad spoiled him, on finding out that be was a man of education, It was there that he bad been surprised, one day, by ‘“*Colonel” Callaban, singing at the iano to the accompaniment of Miss Helen, while Diana Collingsworth was listening. The rancher bad come fare with the express purpose of viohe cf the question to one of the girls, and the sight o the intrusive cowboy had so disconce him that he had forgotten all about bis purpose, and had gone away without its execution, to spread. the news. os : That had been the beginning of Tom’s perse- cution, and from that moment be had been led the life of a dog, by Callahan and the other jealous ranchers, Among their own class, ges bad been willing to allow fair play, and let the best man win; but when it came to a ‘‘common cowboy,” then the spirit of Satanta County rose in arms, and they vowed they would make it ‘too hot to hold bim.” They had done so, to his cost; and now he had come back to try and win what he had lost, aud fight his way to the girl who thought bim a coward. Poor Tom Field had no very pleasant thoughts as he looked.round the room; and when he heard the door open bebind him, it seemed that, when he turned, be would behold another pace § as he had the last time he had been there, and hear the words: ‘We'll give ye jest one day to git aout of the caounty, and of ye’'re thar, arter that, you know what'll be the matter with ye.” But this time, when he looked round, the form he saw Was not that of a rancher of the Callahan stripe. Instead of that, the figure of a young lady stood in the doorway, clad in the simple white Gabrielle robe that Diana Collings- worth affected at most times in summer, and the eyes of that spite, ese were on him as he rose awkwardly and bowed, Then the girl said, as if she bad not recogniz- ed him in the darkened saloon; Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter. + oT ~~ ——EE « a —_—- _here toask you to change it. 19 **Chioe told me, sir, that—” Then she stopped, as she saw who it was, and her face flushed deeply, as she added: ‘“‘I beg your pardon, but I did not know you in all that bravery? Is it real?” : Her eyes were dazzled with the splendor of his appearance, so different to what be had been in the days when he wore rough clothes on the ranch, and when everybody im d on bim. Then, too, she saw that be had weapons, and he bad always gone unarmed in the old times, so that no man had had the heart to shoot him. Was it possible—# The tone uf bis voice was the only thing that was the same, as he said: ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Collingsworth. I did not mean to impose my company on you; I know vou have a hearty contempt for me—” She interrupted bim by a gesture of disclaim- er, but he waved it aside, as he said: ‘* Nay, oay, it is no matter; I did not come I know that I am by nature timid, and that I was never cut out fora rancher. Your fatber has just said as much to me. I bate to quarrel and there is nothing in the world I love so much as peace. But I have an idea that your friends will listen to reason. They were very angry at me when I was here last because | pe iseAbsy | a poor cow- boy. Now, thanks to a legacy left me, I am on an equality with the rest of them. I bayecome here to try if I can stay.” Diana listened to him, and her face changed as she heard him speak, Then she drew herself up to her full bight, and said: ““ Indeed? And do you really think that money is all that is needed to make a man re- spected in Texas? You will find the difference, sir! Then she turned her head away, and left the roonr without the slightest ceremony. CHAPTER XXII. A PARTNER DECLINED, THE departure of the young lady was b no means polite, and the visitor felt it. It wa as much as to say that she did not think him worthy of civility. In fact, Diana, when she went out of the room, flew to her sister, who — waiting in the passage, and whispered to er: ** You were wrong, Helen. He has not come back to show he isa man; but just because be has some money. As if J cared for money, when the man’s a coward. He will be driven off again. Oh, sister, why was I such a fool? I can’t help it; but be shall never know it, not if I have to stand by and see him killed before my very face. Ob, Helen, why was 1 born so?” Sbe spoke in the quick, energetic whisper of one who is in intense emotion and fears to be overheard. The fact was that poor Diana Col- lingsworth, like sagen! dagen woman before}ber, and many a one who will come after ber, bad been captivated by the fine face and figure of the young man in the parlor, and could not, with all her pride, drive him from ber heart. She bad striven against it and cursed her own weakness; but allin vain. That very morning she had crept into the parlor to see him. Chloe had said that be had come armed “ with a lot of istols and guns,” and the girl thought that he ad actually thrown off his old timidity, for which she bated him, and was going to bea man among other men. Hie first words bad disappointed her, by show- ing her that he relied on getting into the society of the ranchers as an equal, by his money, and not by courage. | At that moment Diana Collingsworth felt thoroughly wretched, and wished she had never seen this handsome, but—in ber estimation— worthless man. Then she heard the voice of her father at the end of the passage, coming out of his private office, and the judge was saying: -- ‘*Come into the parlor and be introduced to my daughters, captain. I'll get rid of that young man very ream Then they saw the tall figure of the handsome a coming along the passage from the back of the bouse with their father, and the irls, by one consent, slipped into the parlor fore the old gentleman could call them, and found Tom Field standing by tbe piano. To him said Helen at once—for the girl, not oe in love with bim, was quite cool and ind: ‘Mr. Field, I am very glad to see you.” Tom bowed; but before he could sa be was interrupted by the entrance of the judge, who frowned when he saw that the girls were in there, and hurriedly introduced the captain, with the remark to Tom: “ Now, sir, 1 am ready for you. Come into my office.” Tom saw the frown but it made no impres- ‘sion on him, for he bad come there with a pu , and be was going to carry it out. There was no denying that the captain was a very fine-looking man, and the presenve of such & mnan in the parior with the ladies was dis- quieting. The Englishman had in some wa made his peace with the judge, and the old gentleman was cold to Tom and desirous of getting rid of him as soon as possible, a word ~~ fal icbo C = - Di