Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 114 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

6 ed to curve over and cover the lips, while a lock T eyes, the mouth being hid by a mustache train- | the hall and stairs; and with much jostling and | what’s got his skin riddled like a pepper-box | profanity—no matter, 6 oo en eee ee cae. ublic or private, was of fine, wavy black hair fell carelessly acrossthe , ever, without a free indulgence of the latter, smooth forehead. Over all was an air of dissipation and blage cynicism. This is what an interval of ten years had made of Jules St. Auburn. ‘“‘Good-morning, gentlemen. I’m sorry I can’t ask you all to be seated,” said the Frisco Sharp in tones of polished suavity; and with his white, aristocratic hand, blue-veined and taper-fin: gered, he drew the coverlet—a gray army blank- | way et /—so that the ‘* solid men” of the sabe d might | : | 1% my journey. Give my horse a good ng. sit, if so disposed, on the side of the bun A cool reception this from a man who did not know but that the ‘‘committes” had waited | to drink, enter it on my account, upon him for the purpose of taking him out and suspending him to the nearest red-wood tree! Every man irtheroom appreciated the won- derful nerve that made possible this careless ease in the face of probable ignominious death. As ene ten expressed it: ‘‘}ur unadulterated sand, the Frisco Sharp takes the cake!” Even Judge Wiggins was disconcerted and at a loss how to proceed fora moment, Them ha cleared his throat and said: ‘* As we’ve come on business, you needn’t put yourself out to give us no French frills nor fan- cy flounces, They’re all right; but they ain’t in our line, Yo see, the boys hasmade up their minds that the air'o’ Hard Luck is bad fer deli- cate constitutions; and they think that a gentof about your figur’ would find it money im pocket to travel fur his health. We hain’t recommen- din’ no partic’lar locality. North, south, east or \vest—anywhar, in fact, say ten mile away fom the No-tic.” . _ During the address the face of the Frisco ‘Sharp was a study. His eyes slowly contracted, as they rested calmly, unwaveringly on the face of the speaker. .\, Suspicion of a smile lurked about his mouth. Verhaps his lip curled slightly beneath his over- hanging mustache. *Thar’s only one p’int that we come down on neavy,” pursued Judge Wiggins; ‘but thar ‘Tari Luck lays herseli out, you bet! Ef-a gent i; invited to step down and out, it’s:understood 1.25 he takes all his baggage with him, so’sthar ‘vor’ be nothin’ to come back fur, unless he ‘ 1kes to hankerin’ after the grand bounce.’ For ‘ he’s ketched inside o’ the city limits after- ‘vavd, bet-yer life Hard Luck 7llset down on bins sike a ten-acre brick-yard!” ‘ “ That’s gospel !” growled big Mose Finley, ith a supplemental oath. ‘Divil a less!” seconded Tom O’Connor. And a rambling assent proceeded from others i. the room and out in the ball within the sound of Judge Wiggins’s voice, The Frisco Sharp coolly turned himself on his ; il'ows, so that he could, with the least effort, | ok at his frowning judges, from the foot of Lis bed to the doorway through which were turust the frowsy heads of many who could not xdin admittance for their bodies, and scanning tiem calmly—indeed with some of the curiosity vith which one looks at a menagerie of caged beasts—replied: ‘Gentlemen, I thank you for the distinguish- el honor conferred upon me, by the citizens of this flourishing hamlet waiting upon mein a body; also for the delicacy with which your able exponent and fellow-townsman has hinted that a change of residence on my part would be agreeable to gentlemen whose favor I have made. it my study to conciliate, it seems with ill success. But in such cases I trust I shall ever be public-spirited enough to yield gracefully to the sentiment of the majority. May I ask boty long I shall be permitted to enjoy the hospitali- ties of Hard Luck Camp by the grace of its en- terprisin citizens?” 5 ‘** Waal, we hain't in no sweat,” said the judge. ‘Three or four hours ought to be enough time for a man to git in. Eh, boys?” Tho “ boys ” growled their concurrence. “* What time is it now?’ asked the Frisco Sharp, suppressing a yawn bebind his hand, ad- ding apologetically :--‘* My watch is inconvenient to get at beneath my pillow.” “* Nine o’clock,” replied the judge. ‘‘Then I won’t be disturbed before noon?’— with relief in tone and hook. , “ Ef we don’t find nobody to swing at one, we'll put the rope on the shelf!” was the sen- tentious response. ; “Thank you,” said the Frisco Sharp, settling himself fora renewed nap. ‘*As you go down will you oblige me by sending up the landlord?” _ . But the *‘ boys” were curious to see the end of this matter, wondering what this ‘cool gentle- man would havo to say toSutler Bob; and one of their number shouted at the top of ‘his sten- torian lungs: ro ‘* Ho!—the landlord!—hand ’im up this way !” “Sutler Bob wanted!” ; “Step right up to the captain’s office!” “Make way thar! Chassez him to the front!” ““Hyar comes the cherub!”)> 1°» “Go! in, Bob, an’ do the honors o’ Hard Luck!” PSOL A te “We're with ye, ole man!” @ueh were - fow of the orics that went down consummated in that delectable country! Sut- ler Bob struggled cash the crowd, and pre- sented himself before his guest, ‘Ah, landlord! Sorry to trouble you,” said the Frisco Sharp in bis most indolent manner, | ‘‘ But I have just received an unexpected sum- mons which will compel me to forego the hospi- talities of your excellent house, Ca!l me at twen- ' ty EMO Utes of twelve will you? And, by the | | meal. I shall wanta solid base of operations eanwhile, if any of these gentlemen care “All right, boss,” said Sutler Bob, hopin eo. that the “‘ boys ” would not be deterre y any fine scruples from drinking at the ex- pense of the man they had just “bounced.” ‘And now, gentlemen,” said Frisco Sharp, “* I will bid you good-morning, and to such as I may not meet again, good-by. You all have my best wishes. And better luck in the next stranger that chance sends to your door,” 0 i pp the most winning of smiles, he turned his face to the wall. The ‘*‘ committee” withdrew, *“Nobody had nothing to say!” Gentleman from Pike. andlord, lay yourself out on a square groom- | At twenty minutes of twelve the Frisco Sharp was called—made ‘a fauitless toilet—de- scended and ate his dinner leisurely and with an evident relish—mounted his horse—waved a raceful adieu to the crowd assembled to see im off, big Mose Finley with a coil of rope in | readiness presenting a most suggestive feature pay seeppeeret among the pines at one sharp | Twenty-four hours later this man, to whom | danger and death were idle jests, was riding | with his usual ease and nonchalance through a pa te of the mighty Sierras, when his horse | suddenly stopped, tossed his head, sniffed the | air, and refused to advance. “Eh? Balking? What's the matter with the beast?” | And “ Frisco Sharp put spurs to his refrac- tory steed. The animal reared and tried to turn round; but the man conquered in the brief struggle, and again dug his spurs into the horse’s quiver- ing flanks. The animal made a single bound, then stood as if rooted to’ the spot et in eve nerve, his head high, his ears pricked forward, his eyes blazing. Then from among the crags sprung up an ob- i among the weird conjurings of delirium. | ow a shudder of horror and loathing ran | pad thas frame which had never thrilled with fear before any peril that man could de- vise. Jules 8t. Auburn stood face: to face with the Ghost of the Canyon! CHAPTER VIII. FALLEN IN AMBUSH. For a moment the Frisco Sharp and the Ghost of the Canyon stood voiceless and motion- less, regarding each other. © Then from a gorge that opened at right an- les into the canyon came the sound of fire- rms, the rattle of shots blending with savage war-cries. : | The Ghost of the Canyon turned its head as if to listen; then, with a yell that made the rocky walls of the canyon resound, turned and rushed up the gorge in the direction of the fighting. The horse of the Frisco Sharp wheeled and bore him—perhaps nothing loth—in the oppo- site direction, at a runaway pace, But let us precede the Ghost of the Canyon, and learn the cause of battle, “Waal, darn red hide, cap’n, ef we ain’t in jesta leetle the tightest box that ever was put up on white men! “Tm afraid you’re right, Judd.” “Right? Waal, I reckon! Them ole tan- barks is on their reg’lar syne rampage—begun a leetle airly this year, along o’ the open wea- "bound to keep it up all summer. This hyar’s a powerful ’commodatin’ gov- er’ment, a-stockin’ them ole leather-faces with shootin’-irons an’ ammynition to salt ginowine free American citizens with! Dog my cats, ef I wouldn’t like to hev some o them thar gosh-hanged fools what run the Injun Burer—run it into the ground, cuss ’em!—I’d like to hev one or two of ’em right byar now, an’ set ’em up fer targets fer ole Dick’s Hat- band an’ his gang’o’ pets to sling cold lead into. Thar’d be some sense in that. music ’ud be in another key at the next settin’ o’ Congress. 1 tell ye what it is, cap’n, thar's nothin’ in this hyar world like a man’s takin’ his own physic, fer to straighten out his idees Ef he kin keep the, dose on his own stomick, he kin bet heavy every time that the thing’ssquar’. But fer a lot of ole stoughton-bottles to set two or three thousand miles’ off—keepin’ their own’ hides safe, ye onderstand!—an’ tell a man oF) raps their cbin- | _—-—— --+ + | that be ain’t burt, an’ thar ain’t no danger, an’ | the Injuns is sweet-smellin’ angels right out 0’ | Heaven, bless ’em!—why it don’t stand to reason | that— Eh? A new move!” | The man addressed as ‘‘Cap’n” pays no at- | tention to the grumbling of the old mountaineer, _Judd Baker; but, with his arms folded across | his breast and his brows deeply corrugated with lines of anxious thought, he stands looki | straight before him down the mountain gorge. Following his glance, we can see only the deep-green pines, waving gently in the breeze— a peaceful scene enough; but about the leader are gathered anxious-browed men, with fire- arms in their bands and a hunted watchfulness in their eyes—some wearing blood-stained band- ages, two lying on the ground—one of them ominously still, rigid, ghastly, and one heroie- ally striving to stifle the moans prone ro his white lips by anguish that makes his limbs writhe in spite of him; and in the midst of this little band, surrounded by horses whose bodies are intended to protect her from the bullets of the ruthless foe that lurks in yonder fair-seem- ing coverts, is a maiden of ethereal beauty— now pale and trembling, and with her startled eyes ever seeking the commanding figure of the man whose leadership calls him to the front of danse though she longs to have him at her side, : Ten years have changed her much, developin the sunny-baired child into a fair young ein of sweet sixteen, with the first harbingers of bud- ding wqmanhood in face and figure; but in the man of thirty-two, or thereabouts, we easily recognize the full fruition of the promise of the youth who bore little Lilian Amberleigh in that terrible ride before the pursuing horror of the Death Canyon! But, on a second glance, we discover a change | which those ten years have wrought, When first we saw him, ‘his face was lined with that gloomy defiance which ever marks the passage of a crushing disappointment, or a soul-corroding wrong; now, in spite of the anxiety of the moment, there is in his face and general carriage a grand uplifting which be- speaks a strong, hopeful life purpose. A word of explanation will bridge the interval es ten years since that terrible night in Death anyon, Both the Gentleman from Pike and the old scout, Judd Baker, escaped its perils. Their first quest in the morning was at the mouth id the gorge, to see if succor might be afforded any unfortunates of the overwhelmed wagon- train. But from the horrible spectacle that | Ject of such terrible aspect that nian and beast there awaited them they turned away, sick at Re paralyzed by the sight. | heart, he Frisco Sharp had seen this thing once be- | The Gentleman from Pike believed that Mrs. Amberleig:: had fallen a prey to the wolves, As for the old scout, remembering the terrible Cries of the Demon of the Canyon, as it passe him in the darkness in its ascent of the go after the flood, he shook his head and said: ~. ** Waal, cap’n maybe them was ond at wolves, an’ maybe they was only a blind. Ef the Ghost o’ the Canyon took a notion to chaw up them poor critters, I reckon he could easy. enough hocus-pocus sham wolves to throw fo off the scent. Howsomdever, that’s only my say-so, an’ I’m free to allow that I don’t set up to know everything.” " The demon had passed the Gentleman frem Pike, too; and it was a mystery on which he never expressed an opinion. He could not, Beer repress a shudder when he thought of For ten years he had given himself to the care of the orphan child so strangely thrown upon his protection; and she had repaid him a thou- sand-fold with her love. ahs And now let us see what caused the sudden interruption in Judd Baker’s criticism of th policy of the Indian Commissioners, From the shadow of the pines emerged a dusky figure, made rather barbarous and dan- gerous looking by the paint and feathers and fringe of human scalp-locks, which made up the war-trappings of the noble American In- ian. In his hand he waved a ramrod, to which was attached a dirty rag which ‘‘smelt very loud” of army blanket, considering that it was now presented as a flag of truce. No doubt its former owner was Jaid where no war’s alarms will ever again stir his dull ear] 2” Rive, “Tt’s old Dick himself!” exclaimed Judd Baker; ‘‘an’ when he wants a talk you may bet thar’s some devilment back of it.” a. ‘“* Well, I suppose I will have to accommodate him,” said the leader, handing. Die repeating rifle to one of his men, but retaining his Ba But there came an unlooked-for interruption. ‘*Oh, brother Will!” “a And all turned toward the we bite-iped Hie lady, whose heart had leaped forth in that anxious protest. rs “Well, Lillie?” said he, who had been fo dcn father.and—no, not mother; for in that rela oD she had wept a tender memory during all those n vears. : “Don’t go!—don’t go!” she pleaded now, with clasped hands and tearful eyes. ‘‘ Oh! if: Cc (0) should be treachery!” mMiGboo (E(0)