Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 137 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

6 ean’t die happy till he wagon-whips me. Reckon you never heard of him, did you, Big Beard?” “‘T think not,” replied Long Beard. ‘Well, he war a caution to all that’s mean and stingy—why, stingy is no name forit. He was so awful, owdacious hoggish that he’d dive to the bottom of St. Clair to take a chaw to- baccor, for fear some one’d ask him for a chaw. He’s been known to try to jug up sunshine to use at night to save candles, and a lot other sich mean things. But the meanest he ever done was at Deer Creek school-house, one Sun- day. There was meeting there, and old Phin Blume went down. After the preacher had got through, Deacon Podge went around among the ah pe cesar ore takin’ subscription for the benefit of the minister. Everybody give a little sum- thin’, if it wasn’t more’n a chaw tobaccor, but old Blume. He didn’t give a mite; however, the deacon said nothin’ and handed over his ag to the preacher, who sorted out the ifferent things and put ’em in his pockets, took a fresh quid of tobaccor, and then said, ‘The Lord loves a cheerful giver, but despises the stingy miser.?’ What should old Blume do jist as soon as he got out but swear that the preach- er meant him when he spoke ’bout the miser? ‘“*He went off home a-rantin and a-ravin’ and cussin’ and swearin’. He declared he'd break up the next meetin’ they had there or overturn the brimstone diggin’s; but nobody believed him, and so the thing ye aes there. But the very next meeting at Deer Creek Phineas Blume actually combed bis hair, washed his face, and changed his moccasins, and come to meetin’, and took a seat in a back corner b hisself. I see’d somethin’ mean lurkin’ in his eyes, and knowed he meant business. I see’d he had somethin’ kivered under his wamus- tail, and s’posed it war his old moccasins he war goin’ to donate to the preacher when the hat was passed around, ell, the preacher sung his song, prayed bis prayer, and give out his text, which [ll never forgit. It war: * Above all, taking the shield of faith, where- with ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.’ ‘‘T see’d ole Blume smile when he read this off, and give his wamus-taila hitch. But the oe went into it, and just raked it down. h, hornits! how he pitched into the wicked; and I old Blume war the only mean sin- nerin the house. It made him squirm, I tell you, ust as though a fiery dart was rankling in old heart. But all the time I kept one eye on his face, and I could see forty devils were lurkin’ in that satanic smile, which he tried to make folks believe war piety. Wal, things run along smoothly for awhile, and the ter war rantin’ bout the flery darts of the wicked, when, all of a sudden, he en fn his hands to his nose, and uttered a word that came mighty nigh ?acuss word. B’isness was suspend for awhile, and everybody became clamorous to know what the matter war—everybody but ole Blume. He jist reclined there in the corner, smilin’ away as calm and placid as an an But things soon A settled when the preacher said it wa’n’t nothin’ but a stray yaller jacket that had come in through the open winder and stung him on the nose. So he went into it again on the ‘darts of the wicked’ with re- newed vigor. Things went along swimmingl for Selita when at once ole Trott ve a clawin’ at She said sumthin’ had prodded her on the head with a sharp instrument, and while she was ing about it, brother Sharp let sli a Romar He the plumpest little oath yon mostever heard a good man use, and it come out kind o’ natural, too. He said sumthin’ had ‘ ae him on the upper lip, and nigh about illed him. The next minute old uncle Jerry Finch got a thrust in the ear that bounced him clear his seat. Then it wa’n’t but a little while till Mirandy Brookover got a drive on the left cheek that made the old maid’s tongue flut- ter like an ague chill. Next follered aunt Jane Ann Stump, an awful old termagant, who got an owdacious pop above the eye that knocked her a-flukin’, b over head off the bench. And yet no one knew from where all this deviltry came from; but when ole Blume smil- ingly suggested that it might be the ‘ fiery darts of wicked,’ I suspected something, and kept i on that ole galvanized sinner—I did for a And now what do you suppose I dis- er Couldnt f " Harry,” replied th gian nu imagine, Harry,” re the t his bearded face aglow with a sine. " “*P)i tell you: I diskivered that that ole sneak had a hornit’s nest under his wamus ! I see now why he’d set down in a dark corner; it was so’s that the insects would poll out for the — as soon as they got out, and wouldn’t sting him. It beat me, it did, for a fact; and afore I could tell on him, thin got uiet, and the preacher went on with his of the wicked.’ But I kept a y fihieo on ole Blume, and all at once I see’d - raise his wamus, when out popped three big hornits, and away they darted around the room a-buzzin’. Two of them etcaned at the wincer, but t’other, ' worth a picayune jist to see’em reel seein’ ole Squire Fipps sinkin’ into a gentle doze, descended on gauzy wing and slipped its javelin into his under lip. Lord! it made the old feller fairly ‘sizz.’ But things got quiet once more, and the preacher began to bring tuings to a close. When they all riz to sing the dockology, you’d ort to see’d’em folks as had been stung. I had to snicker right out and that old hulk of a Blume kept his hea down, and his eyes closed, while he sung away as though he war the most innocent lamb in the flock. The preacher’s nose was all swelled up, till it glistened like the =P of his bald head. He had to tip-toe to see over his probuscis. Bro- ther Sharp’s upper lip had swelled till it pro- jected like a water-shed, while the under lip of Squire Fipps pouted out like the lips of a mo- therless colt, Mirandy Brookover’s cheek puffed out like a stuffed toad, and shoved the corner of her mouth away down to her chin. Jane Ann Stump’s eye had swelled shet, but the other ’n’ done business for both, but it looked lonely over at the men’s side. Jerry Finch’s ear was so big that it made bim lop-sided, it oid, for a fact. Altogether, gove’nor, it was the sorriest and most laffable sight ever see’d. And yee ort to ’a’ hearn them martyrs sing! Great ornits! they roared as if for all that was out. Mirandy Brookover swelled so long on the up- ward scale that she like to never got her breath again. But, Big Beard, right in the middle of that dockology, what did that p’izen ole Blume do but jerk out that whole hornit-nest and throw it over in the middle of the house! Yes, it’s a burnin’ fact, he did do that very thing, and you may bet nobody waited far the ‘amen,’ but husseled out of that house like sixty. 1 got one awful sting. The gosh-oned thing launched its harpoon right slap into my face, and, oh, but I swore vengeance on that demon, Blume! I war detarmined to be even with him, and, Big Beard, you may bet Idid; and now Pll tell you how I done it—now, now, Belshazzar! Dream- in’ of Ingins?’ The dog started up, with a low growl, and turned toward the door of the cabin. Harry arose, opened the door and gazed out. A ery burst from his lips. ‘“‘ Great hoppin’ hornits, Big Beard! The Old Scratch is to pay!—a dozen piratical demons have boarded our schooner !” CHAPTER VI. LONG BEARD’S SWEEPSTAKE. THE reply that Long Beard made to Happy the startling announcement was calm and indifferent. He rose to his feet, and with the soft tread of a lion, advanced to the door of the’ cabin, and gazed out. True enough, he dis- covered a dozen forms, most of which he saw were savages, standing aft. Alongside the schooner lay their canoes. ‘The shadowy imps! they must think I’m asleep. They have come to their death, or—” ‘‘ Or to ours, one’r t/other,” interrupted Harry. “It jist seems as though the varmints war de- termined on exterminatin’ me.” ‘You must be a thorn in their sides, Harry,” the a quietly remarked. ‘‘ A thorn? great hoppin’ hornits! if I ever git through this night, I’m goin’ to turn to a con- agin and spread through the Ingin country and smite the red vagrants hip and thigh. I pone a bloody fact. ; "You need have no fear of getting into trouble on this craft, aoe Those savages meant to trap us, but they’ll be trapped. There, one of them is comin is way to reconnoiter no doubt. As soon as he finds the door is closed they'll make.an attack. But the moment they start this way, I propose to sweep the deck. Now, you keep an eye on that one crawling this way.” Harry was not a kttle surprised at the giant’s calm self-assurance, and wondered wherein he — the power to sweep the .deck, as he eclared he would. The youth kept his eyes on the advancing savage through an opening in the door. The wily red-man crept softly to- ward the cabin and paused at the head of the steps, and gazed at the door a moment, then turned and crept softly back to his comrades. . They held a momentary consultation, then all together started toward the cabin. ‘ Now look out, Harry!” cried the giant The boat was gliding along steadily, her sails drawn taut and full; butscarcely had the giant’s words of caution fallen from his lips, ere the boat seemed to reel like a drunken man—turn almost at a right angle, and so suddenly, it came nigh upsetting. Simul us with this change of course, the long beam/hitherto men- tion oe suddenly and violently around, like.a mighty arm, and knocked every savage, heels over head, into the lake. ‘‘Gemently hornits!” exclaimed Happ Harry, completely astonished. ‘ Big Beard, every savage is gone a-flukin’ overboard. Gra- ere —_— es mins giant's Ii ow la esca’ the giant’s lips. “It eenad the deck, did it?’ he asked. “Cleared the deck? Why, that’s no name for it. That pole just swung around like a mule’s heel, and popped them over into the lake slicker’n lightnin’. Great yale on it Pe on, Seether lt SS ii a tegen a LE a A LL LL LL LLL LE LLL LL LLL ELD LA LE LEA TD Long Beard, the Giant Spy. war, for a sober fact; but there comes that dogged pole back. It’s huntin’ for more red- skins, it is, sure as you’re born.” ‘““As the boat gets square with the wind that pole takes its former position,” explained Long Beard. ‘‘ You see, this boat, is a contri- vance of my own. By means of these ropes and pulleys that you can see here, I am en- abled to steer the craft, hoist or lower sail, or by a sudden pull on this rope, change the course of the boat almost instantly; and, as i swings around, the beam sweeps around, anc. all that stands in its way is raked off, as you have seen.” _“* Hoppin’ hornit! what an all-killin’ contrap- tion itis! A regler fightin’-machine, It don’t like dogs, does it, gineral?” ‘“‘It is no respecter of persons. It would serve friend and foe alike, if acted upon. I have used it several times in sweeping the gaak cs savages, and never made a bad job of it yet. ‘Wal, it’s a mighty convenient thing, Big Beard, it is, for a downright fact. But, dog- ged if it didn’t knock me and Belshazzar out of a fight; but then, it’s all right. We're not overly anxious for a battle—we have had enough to-night. But strikes me your gig is trotting along purty lively, gineral.” ‘** Yes, we are moving along at a sharp speed now, and are going right down the coast, ee see, the faster the boat is moving the quicker and | stronger the arm out there sweeps the air. ‘“‘And so the stronger a queer pain strikes the Indians about the bulge of the bread-basket, causing them to bow pg tely and retire quick- ly, to be embraced in St. Clair’s placid deep,” ‘* Exactly,” replied the great, white-bearded man, with a grim smile, as he ied the way out. upon the deck. They glanced far back over the misty waters, but no sign of the struggling enemy could be seen; but their boats, attached to the schooner, were dragging in its frothy wake behind. ‘That crew ’ll never trouble us again,” said the giant. ‘‘No, no, gineral, they’re gone. What a. ghastly, ghastly world this is, But then, everybody has his notions, everybody his ways.” ‘Let’s see,” said Long Beard, reflectively;; ‘‘you were just going to tell me about how ou repaid ole Blume for his hornets when the: dians boarded us. Now, as we are moving along with a good wind and fair prospect, you might kill time by narrating the story.” ‘It’s a short story this time, govenir; hut ll tell it anyhow. It war jist this way: Blume got to be rich as Croesus. He fell heir to five hundred dollars back in New Ham shire, and then you’d ort to seen that old pleb’ian come down with his style. He actuall got a full suit of store clothes, washed shaved, and went to in’ on airs that ’d’a’ beat anything in Boston town, And tbe fust. thing we knowed he got to crossin’ the river to spark ole’Squire Fipps’s daughter, Susan, a sweet-scented gal of thirty-five, who jist: puckered up her mouth to all the other gals, and wouldn’t ’sociate with anybody but rich Phineas Blume. Qh, yes, Blume war every- thing to her; but people knowed old Tood Mipps, they did, for a scandalous fact. It war Mister Blume and Capting Blume with her; and the reason they called him captain was cause he commanded a mud-scow once on which thar wasn’t but one other nigger besides hisself. But, oh, me! how old T did gush; and everybody knowed it wasn’t his personal beauty she war after, but his fortune—his five hundred dollars. It’s awful queer, Long Beard, store and u little money will make with fe- male woman; but then, if that’s love, no gal will ever’set her claws on may head; she won’t, for a sacred fact. But, as I war sayin’, ole Squire Fipps had ort to ’a’ shot Blume when he: went there, for he war one o’ the congregation that got so thunderin’ly hornited that Sunday at meetin’. But the feller’s style and done it to the old man, and all they’d say war: ‘Cap Blume war a jolly dog—always playin” his pranks with somebody,’ and he said that. that hornit affair was the most capital joke of the season, illustratin’ the text about the ‘ darts. of the wicked’ so forcible. But that’s all the sense some people has got. One Sunday, how- ever, I knowed Blume were going to see his maple-sugar, and I concluded now was my time to be even with him for that hornit job I got. I knowed he had,to cross the river in the canoe used at the ferry, so down I goes to whar the craft war tied up, and right under the seat, where he couldn’t see, I cut a big, round hole, and. plugged it up with a plug driven in from the outside. To this plug I tied a great, long, stout string, t?other end of which i tied to a bush that hung in the water, so the string was all under the water. I hid in the bushes to. wait, and d’rectly here came old Blume, whist-- lin’, ‘I won’t go home till mornin’, till mornin’, gay as a lark, and with a kind of a SPpeaien snort, jumped into the canoe, seated hisself, put on his buckskin gloves to keep his hands: white, and then pulled out for t/other shore, what difference clothes made at the G (@) 4) ee (ONE MOO KS