Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 1102 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

~~ —e , ee! «> PEN LEPTIN ATE on gs A rection indicated by the landlord’s gaze, and a guiet smile appeared upon the face of Blake. ——— eee As he had expected, the Indians had made | their appearance. The landlord had stated truly—it was the old Apache chief and his four stalwart sons, known respectively as Long Wolf, Little Gun, Funny Bird and Black Mustang. The Fresh had decided upon his plan of actiqn the moment he heard of the Indians’ ap- proach. He had not the least doubt in regard to the truth of the information which he had received, and the unexpected appearance—unexpected by all the rest but himself—of the red-skins made him fee} certain that the main object of their visit to Santa 6 was to carry out the compact which they had made to kill him. It was his policy always to take the bull by the horns. He never waited for an attack when he felt confident that a vi ay could not be avoided, but went in to get the first blow himself, being a firm believer in the old adage, the first blow is generally half the battle. ‘* Now you fellers have been shooting off your mouths about what crack shots you are!” Jim- sonweed exclaimed, as the red-skins came up and halted in front of the saloon, ‘‘ but hyer’s the man that kin clean you all out. ‘‘My money says that this hyer ’Pache chief is the boss shot of Santa Fé!” ‘‘ And my money says he ain’t anything of the kind!” the Fresh of Frisco immediately cried, to the astonishment of the crowd, who hadn't e ted this on account of Blake’s keep- ing so quiet while the bragging was in progress. he old savage’s keen eyes surveyed Blake in the most careful manner from his hat to his |" heels, and there seemed to be a peculiar ex- pression in his dark orbs. ‘‘ My brother is a stranger to the red-man,” he replied. ‘*T can introduce myself. My name is Jack- son Blake, and they call me the Fresh of Frisco! Put it there, old man.” He extended his hand, Painted Bean grasped it and then clinched his teeth tightly. CHAPTER XXTV. A BOLD DEFIANCE, IT was to prevent a moan of pain escaping from him that the old Apache chief clinched his lips, for the Fresh of Frisco in shaking hands with him had seized his fingers with such a grip that the bones seemed fairly driven in to- ether. : In a}] his experience, and the old warrior had had a pretty extensive one, he had never en- ‘ eountered such a grip before, ‘Glad to see you, my noble buck!” the Fresh exclaimed, still holding on to the hand of the Indian and Same: it until the bones seemed fairly to crac . ‘‘T love Injuns, particularly dead ones!” By this time the crowd “ caught on,” to use the vulgate. | They perceived that the grip of the white man was making the red-skin uncomfortable, and they began to snicker. At last the chief got his hand away, and a more angry red-skin never stood on mother rth, one White man play the fool!” he growled. ‘‘ Painted Bean no like such tricks,” ‘Oh, that isn’t anything to what I can do,” Blake replied, with a sly wink at the crowd, who were enjoyin the fun. “Tm ‘as full of tricks as an egg is of meat, and the more you draw me out the more there is to draw.” ‘‘'The Painted Bean is a man—he cannot play the fool like a bey!” the Indian exclaimed, with he hes ner inf er!” exclaimed Jimsonweed, at this point; “ we're wandering away from what we were arter, it seems to me. ‘6 We were talking of shooting, eh?” “Yes, yes,” ar acm half a dozen of the i breath. , sage tk ha are Bean will shoot with any man that walks the earth!” exclaimed the savage, with a defiant look at Blake, as much as to say that the challenge was intended for him in par- eon, you're a shooter, then?” the Fresh re- marked, in a quizzical sort of .way. ‘The chief can shoot— ‘¢ With your mouth, suggested Blake, greatly to the amusement of the bystanders, whose minds were just about intetiigent enough to ap- jokes as vals. pot ager rh and revolver!” answered the In- dian, angrily, for the old warrior did not relish being made the laughing-stock of the crowd, “Phe white man can laugh—can he fight as well?” questioned the red-skin, with a plainly perce <tr ee know; that’s something that can only be determined by an actual trial, but I reckon I can keep my end up; I generally man- so. mY Now. chief, I don’t take any stock in your hooting abilities. boast re Sowbey but it takes money to buy land. al . pec £ h wah Fr And A r * . il The Stranger Sharp. ‘* Do you say you are a crack rifle-shot—” ‘*Tam!” retorted the red-skin, quickly. **So you say,” remarked Blake, significantly. “Tt is the truth!” ‘* Are you willing to back up the statement?” 4é ] am. bP] ** With what?” ‘* With my life!” ‘‘ Aha, now vou’re talking! That’s coming right down to old business. ‘When a man says he will back anything up with his life it shows that he has confidence in his statement, that is if he means what he says and is not talking merely for the sake of hearing himself talk.” ‘*The chief is no boaster; he means every word he says,” the Indian replied, with great | dignity. . ‘You are just the kind of man that I have been looking for then. Now I don’t take an stock in your boast about your being a cont rifle-shot, and I’m willing to put my skill against yours, if you’ve got sand enough to come up to the rack and take your fodder like a man, ‘‘The chief is full of sand,” the red-skin re- sponded. ‘‘ Have you got sand enough to back up your skill with your life,as you said?” Blake demand- ed, and at the question all the bystanders prick- ed up their ears, metaphorically speaking, so that they might not lose a bit of this interesting conversation. ‘* The chief wastes no breath— he means every word he said,” the savage replied. ‘Well, I feel so sure that 1 can fiax you that I am willing to back my skill with my life,” the Fresh remarked. ‘The night is bright enough for us tosee what we are about, so I propose we take our rifles, go off on the prairie and pop away at each other until one of us has enough of the fun.” This peculiar, off-hand proposition took the bystanders completely by surprise. Here was a man proposing a trial of skill, which was in reality a duel to the death, to the most skillful and ruthless red warrior that had ever set foot on the western plains. Even the Indian was surprised by the bold and novel proposal. | As the reader will remember, he had bar- gained to accomplish the death of Blake, and | | Blake. | you won’t think you are 17 Despite his long training in the art of du- plicity, the warrior hesitated for a moment be- fore he replied, for the suspicion shot across his brain that in some mysterious way the white— skin had learned of the agreement which had been made to kill him and was now leading the way to an accusation. A moment’s reflection convinced him, though, that this could not be possible, and so he an- swered, boldly: ‘‘Why should the red-man wish evil to the —— _ white-skin upon whom his eyes have never rest- ed until this night?” “Exactly; don’t you see, fellow-citizens, how the noble red-man chimes in with me?’ the Fresh exclaimed. ‘It’s an utter impossibility for either one of us to wish evil to the other, unless there are ' some of you sharps base-minded enough for to believe that I have been hired by some one to ‘go’ for this warrior, or that some foe of mine _has* seen’ the noble son of the wilderness and | ee up ducats enough to make it an object for i im to attempt to wipe me out.” The Indian darted a quick, sharp glance at the Fresh with his black, bead-like eyes as he listened to these words. Was it possible that his secret agreement was known, or was the white-skin by accident stum- bling upon the truth? ‘*Oh, no. my beloved hearers.” continued : ‘Weare just going into this thing for un. ‘“* There isn’t the least bit of malice about it, is there, you red imp?” “The chief is no imp, but a great red war- rior,” replied the Painted Bean, who did not at all relish either the words or the tone of the careless white man. ‘* Precisely, but afterI get through with you, alf as big a warrior as you do now.” * he red-skin darted a furious glance at the impudent speaker, for the words made the by- standers laugh again. CHAPTER XXV. ON THE’ GROUND. ‘“* IF the white man could only fight as well as he talks he could whip all the world,” the Paint ed Bean retorted, venomously. ‘You just wait until you get a taste of m had visited Santa Fé for the sole purpose of con- | quality, and if it don’t make you the sickest red- triving some way to get at the man whom he | man that ever went on two legs then I won't. had agreed to slay in cold blood. He had not expected to accomplish anything | at present; his object now was merely to get a look at. the man, so as to see what he was like and calculate what the. chances were for catch- | ing him unawares at some future time. ut to be drawn into a discussion with him, wanta cent.” ioe ‘* Let us make our rifles talk and save our _ tongues,” the chief remarked. ‘I’m agreeable; and now the terms of this fight are: first, the weapons to be rifles and the distance a thousand yards. ‘‘ After the word is given we are at liberty te and to be thus bluntly challenged to risk life | advance and fire as often as we please until one against life was something that was entirely un- | man is satisfied.” expected. : And the red-skin, despite his bull-dog-like the idea either. Like a skillful and experienced general, he referred to choose the battle-ground rather an have the fightforced upon him, - He was an excellent rifle-shot; it was no idle boast when he asserted he was a master-hand at | the weapon, but for all he knew the white man might be fully as good, if not better. hat there were better shots than himself he | knew full well, although he was not willing to admit the fact. . Then too, to fight a rifle duel by the uncertain if he thinks t The lookers-on thought this was about as cold- | blooded an arrangement as they had ever heard courage, did not feel over and above pleased at | of, and yet.the Fresh rattled it off as coolly and. with as little concern as though he was ar- | ranging the details of a picnic, instead of a duek to the death. ** That will do,” the warrior remarked, with a. dignified bow of the head. ‘ And let my white brother understand, that is fight is child’s play, the chief does not, and will shoot to kiJl.” And the Indian hissed out the words with a fiend-like air. ‘* Oh, don’t you worry yourself aboutthat; I’m going in to cut your comb and trim your feath- light of the moon was not like engaging in a | ers for you in the most approved style, andafter similar contest by the clear light of the day. With all his years of border warfare the chief had but little experience in rifle-practice by moonlight, although he had been engaged in at least a hundred midnight attacks, but then all the fighting had been done at close quarters, And as the savage hesitated Jimsonweed took it upon himself tospeak. at ‘Why, look a-hyer!” he cried, ‘‘ this is a reg’- lar bloody, out-and-out duel that you are plan- ning, and the odds are big that either one or both of you will get wiped out afore you get through.” ‘* There isn t the least danger of that,” Blake replied. ‘We have both of us been blowmteg about our skill, Putus a thousand yards apart and nei- ther one of us could hit an elephant without using up powder and ball enough to fill a four- orse team. The bystanders did not exactly know what to make of this statement, for Blake spoke with a perfectly grave face, andif he was jesting, nei- ther by voice nor manner did he give any indi- cation of it. They knew that as far as ordinary men were concerned the statement was correct. ‘No one but a sharpshooter—an expert rifle- shot—would be able to damage a foe at so great & distance as a thousand yards, ou see, fellow-citizens, I haven’t got the least bit of a grudge against this red-skin,” the esh explained. ‘‘ Why should I have, seeing that I never laid eyes on him before in my life? ha you haven’t any grudge against me, have you?” and the question was put directly to the pache chief, the opera is over I reckon you will wish that you had tackled a cyclone instead of yours truly, to command, ‘** But I say, who’s got a rifle to lend me, for that is an article I don’t possess.” Then the voice of the fat saloon-keeper, Jim- sonweed, rose in the land. ‘*Tve got the finest rifle that ever a man handled!” he cried. ‘*Thar’s no better tool west of the Big Muddy than my pop-gun! ** Just wait a minute and I’ll fetch it!” And away he galloped into the house, The red-skin carried his rifle slung upon his back, and so it did not take him long to prepare for action. In afew minutes the host of the Forty Rod Sa- | loon was, back with his RA an and the Fresh, t examining the weapon wi e eyes of an ex- pert, saw that Jimsonweed had not overpraised the tool, for it was iadeed as fine a rifle as any one could ask for. ‘* Thar’s a we’pon as isa we’pon!” the host de- clared, proudly. ‘* You kin risk your life on that ere tool and it. won’t go back on you nary time!” ‘* Well, Pll try and not disgrace either you or the weapon,” Blake declared. ‘** And now let’s be off and begin the fun. Jim- sonweed, as you’re about as well-posted as any critter ’round you'll be a good man to pick out. the ground.” ‘¢ Wa-al, now, you kin bet your bottom dollar that I kin do that to the queen’s taste!” the sa- loon-keeper replied, and then, followed by the others, he led the way toa broad, open plain, a short distance from hotel. | COMIC 900!