Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 173 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

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It was the custom of the large outfits, when they reached the neighborhood of a town where supplies were to be procured, to go into camp on the outskirts, and the regular night-watch of the march was always kept up. **‘Oh, durn yer watch!” cried one of the party, who, thanks to the influence of the po- tent liquor which he had drank, had reached that stage when the heart in its generosity be- lieves that all mankind are brothers. “If yer don’t go’long and Wist a little p’ison with us yer no gen’leman!”’ ‘*Whar you from, any way?’ cried another. ** Hual pais,” saavaed the Fresh, giving the first name that came into his head. **Good enough!” exclaimed another; ‘ I’ve been thar, and now you have got to drink with mew agg hande, stranger?’ asked th at's yer hande asked the man who had first spoken, and who seemed to be the leader of the party. “Tom Jones,” answered John, without the least hesitation. ‘*Howd’y! Mr. Jones!” cried the fourth one of the gang, pulling off his hat and conning the stranger with a profound bow and true drunk- en gravity. *Tom Jones of Hualpais,” said another; ‘‘waal, that will do. I knowed a Jones out *way back in old York State, and seeing as how your name is Jones, a have got to drink with this ’ere crowd or fight!” ‘You bet! that is our pvr pe every time!” chimed in the chief spirit of the gang. So the Californian, thinking it the easiest way to get rid of them, consented to go. | nother low saloon was visited and the drinks ordered. Down went the fiery liquid and then followed an awkward discovery. In replacing his glass upon the counter the Fresh turned his back upon the chief of the party. “Tf you said that your name was Tom Jones, and you came from Hualpais, you are a liar!’ he cried, angrily. CHAPTER XTX. A LEETI.E DIFFICULTY. ABovtT the most astonished onein the room at these words was the man to whom they were addressed, haan ay | such an epithet bestowed upon California John would have provoked blood- sbed, but now he must avoid any quarrel if he could avoid it. But how, in the name of won- der, did the man discover that he had given a false name and address? » ‘What is the matter with you—what dog hast you?’ the Californian demanded, roughly turning upon tbe fellow. ‘* You have lied, that's all!” the fellow per- sisted, in a very offensive way, with ght hand upon the butt of his revolver. Small good would this have done the speaker if California John had thought it was his cue to fizht, for beneath his poncho his left hand had drawn one of the revolvers from its holster, and the thumb was on the hammer ready for instant action, so that before the man could have got his tool out he would have been bored, for the Californian’s left hand was fully as ex- pert as the right with the weapon. But it was not John’s game to fight. ‘“‘Course you have lied!” cried another one of the party upon whom John had turned his back in facing the boss of the gang. The Californian wheeled in astonishment to look at this new assailant, and the other two you before, an that it was his’n. will happen, gentlemen, the front, boys, and I'll set ’em up this time. Nominate al pison! Take a drink all of you with Jim Yards of Mobave City, the biggest little town this side of Frisco, and don’t ‘you forget it! Set ’em up for Jim Yards this time!” ut for once John had overshot the mark. The gang were just drunk enough to be ugly and suspicious; the explanation was not re- ceived with a ver grace, and to add to the Californian’s difficulties an old codger who had been asleep in a chair awoke just then and heard the last part of the speech. ‘* Wot’s that?” he muttered, and he fixed his bleared eyes upon the face of the Fresh. ‘‘ Jim Yards! An’ wot about Jim Yards, hey? I knowed a Jim Yards onc’t; I reckon that I knew him mighty well, too, for he was a gay galoot and could more liquor than any two-legged man I ever see’d.” ; Here was a fresh complication, but the Fresh, realizing that a bold front alone could carry him through, rose equal to the occasion. ‘‘My name is Jim Yards, old man, and don’t ou forget it!” he responded. ‘‘ Jim Yards, of ohave City, — I disremember ever seeing ar. The old man took a good look at the Fresh and then he shook his head. ‘‘You hev got me, stranger; you ain’t the man I onc’t knowed. He was a leetle taller than you be, I reckon, an’ ef I remember right he had red ha’r and a beard—a red beard, not a very big beard, but jest a leetile kind of a scrubby growth, like as ef the sile wa’n’t hull- some. ‘* Was he from Mohave City?” the Fresh de- manded, bold as brass. ‘*Wa-al, now, stranger, I reckon that you hev got me foul ag’in,” the old man answered. ‘*Darned ef I remember whar he was from. It was up that way, somewhar.” ‘*Pve got a cousin, same name as mine, and he comes pretty close to the description you give, but I never heerd tell on him down jn tais country, though, maybe, he might have floated out this way; thar’s no telling.’ The proprietor ot the saloon had listened to this altercation with i!l-concealed disgust, not unmixed with a little anxiety. <A “ leetle” difficulty in bis place was about the last thing he “ey eon a he ers ah» 3 ough that his pe roperty wo er case of a free fight. Besides, here was a man ready to set up drinks for the crowd, so he astened to pour the oil of peace upon the trou- bled waters. ‘*Come, nominate your p’ison, gen’lemen!” he exclaimed, whisky-bottle in hand. It was rather an unnecessary remark, for there wasn’t much choice to be had; the crowd might call for what they liked, but good old tanglefoot, death-at-forty-rods whisky was all they were likely to get. ‘‘I reckon it is all right; ’pears to me I have seen this hyer gen’leman up at Mohave City a . + smart heap of times.” “Ce ! hy, no doubt you have heard my name called often!” ‘I reckon I have, for sure!” and then, as the est way to stop the discussion the man of commenced to let the potent whisky He knew his men y well and guessed they would not be able resist the temptation of drinks. “Come, boys, hyer we go!” cried the Cali- fornian, seizing upon a glass and holding it up But, these little mistakes ou know; but step to quo gurgie into the glasses. rett 'onhigh. The others were not slow to follow his exam ple. ‘“‘ Here’s luck to trade and down she goes!” he continued, tossing the fiery liquor down his throat just as if it was only so much water. ‘‘Down she goes,” repeated the. rest, and then, with much smacking or lips, the liquor was disposed of and the fugitive breathed freely again. ‘Fill ’em up again!” the Californian com- the eg Pp now for the first time beheld | manded, tossing a five-dollar gold piece upon of his back, took up the same cry. ‘* Durned if you hain’t lied, cuss you!” ‘What do you mean?” John demanded, un- able to make head or tail of this strange mat- | ter ‘“Why, you’ve got yer name on the back of your poncho, you sneaking polecat!” the lead- f the party fairly howled, boiling over with rage at the very idea of the stranger’s imposition. ‘‘Thar it is, in big white letters, ‘Jim Yards, Mohave City!” ‘‘Yes, sir, thar it is, Jim Yards, Mohave City !” yelled the rest in chorus. or a moment the sport was taken aback. This was a coutingency not counted upon, but his quick wits soon came to his aid. ‘* Ob, that’s all right, boys,” he protested, ‘You are right and you ain’t right. is hyet ncho does Jones is my old side-pardner, and ket, but I put it on thar, gentlemen ‘long to Jim Yards, and that’s my axdle, and Mohave City is my mre but Tom e and me) change names once ina while jest for the fun | en it and that is how it happened. Why,I. wouldn’t go for to deceive such a crowd as you are for no money; you couldn’t hire me to do | it! Iclean forgot about the name on the blan- so that no durned rooster could walk off with it and sw’ar a ee it the bar. ‘I’m flush to-night and it’s my treat. I got paid off to-day.” Again the ardent fluid galloped down the thirsty throats of the Gang. ‘* Hallo!” cried the Californian, pretending to listen; ‘‘ thar is one of the boys shouting for me ow, I reckon, Well, so-long, boys; I will see you again!” He turned to depart, secretly worried at hav- ing lost so much valuable time, but still think- ing he aaa ample margin left to get out of town before his escape should be discovered; but the fugitive was like a man wandering in a maze—no sooner did he surmount one obstacle than another rose before him. As he turned to depart the door of the saloon opened suddenly and a tall, raw-boned, red- haired man, whose lantern jaws were cove with a scrubby red beard, and whose head was bare, came rushing into the room, a cocked re- volver in his hand. The instant he beheld the Fresh he halted and leveled the revolver full at his breast. ‘‘You durnecbcallywag, I hev corraled you at last!” he cried, in savage tones. ; It required no prophet to tell the Californian hat and poncho, Jim Yards of Mohave City, hat the irate stranger was the owner of the ——_— CHAPTER XX. MORE TROUBLE. APPARENTLY the Californian was caught at a terrible disadvantage, for the new-comer’s re- volver was cocked and pointed directly at his breast, and that the man meant miscbief, too, was plainly apparent from the glare in his eye; and the ugly look upon his extremely unpre- possessing face. Although the fellow’s a IY un ted, yet the Fresh easily compre- ended how it had come about. The cool night air blowing upon his unprotected head had aroused him; then he had discovered the loss of his hat and poncho and had instantly set out to find the d iler. It would have been a deuced awkward pre- dicament to be placed in at any time, but under the —— circumstances, when his life de- pended upon his getting out of the town as quickly as possible, California John came to the conclusion that it’ was about as tight a pinch as he had experienced. There was no other course open to him, oon but to put a bold face upon the matter an brazen it out. The bluff game was the only one in such a case, while, y, be was not so much at the other’s mercy as appearances indicated. Under the poncho his left hand grasped a cocked revolver. ‘* Hold on, hold on! Who be you talking to?” the Fresh demanded, his tone as high and his manner as rough as bis assailant’s. For a moment the new-comer seemed dumb with astonishment. Here was the man who had stripped bim of his hat and blanket ‘talking back ” to him with the stolen articles on his person! ‘* See hyer, puomer if this hyer don’t beat anything I ever heered tell on or see’d! Thar’s that galoot has got on my hat and blanket, and he wants to know who I am az-talking to! Blame me! if I ain’t got a good mind to drilla hole right through you, you ornery, low-lived cuss! ‘* Your hat and blanket!’’ cried the Fresh, in utter scorn. ‘‘ Well, bang me! if your cheek don’t beat my time! Where would I get your hat and blanket, you slabsided, hatchet faced oer You are either drunk or crazy, man! hy, I bought and paid for both of them, in pe ‘ d cash, and the poncho’s got my — on it, too—Jim Yards, of Mohave t The man’s face at this announcement was a sight. The boldness of the assertion fairly took his breath away, and for a moment he could only gasp in astonishment: ‘* Your name, Jim Yards!” he cried, at last, hardly able te speak for his rage. ‘*That’s my handle!” replied the Californian, promptly and arrogantly, and he took advan- tage of the other’s astonishment to slip his right hand under the poncho and draw the other revolver from its holster. : ‘‘ Waal, if you are Jim Yards, who in thuncer be I?’ the man demand ‘** How should I know who you are? but, from the way you are going on I reckon vou are either drunk or crazy,” and then with a sudden motion he drew his left hand from ind r the poncho, and stepping forward shovec th: muz- zle of the revolver which it grasped right under the nose of the other. ‘‘ Uncock that pistol and put it back in your belt or V’ll blow the whole top of your head off!” he commanded. And the mule-driver, cowed by the sudden and unexpected action, obeyed the injunction, but he blurted out a remonstrance. ; “Look a-hyer, gen’lemen, if this hyer ain’t rough! I laid down to sleep with that air hat and poncho on ’bout two hours ago, heving h’isted a leetle more fire-water than I could carry, and when I woke up both hat and blan- ket were gone. This cuss hyer come along and stole ’em when I was asleep, and now he talks bout blowing the bull top of my head off. I’m Jim Yards, [ am, and he’s a Lar when he says that’s his name!” | ‘“‘T know that this pore man is Jim Yards,” croaked the little old codger, who had before remarked that he was acquainted with a man of that name. ‘“ Didn’t I tell you that he had red ha’r?” ‘‘T said that he was a liar in the furst place!” the chief of the party cried. ‘ An’ I reckon that he did steal them things. I move that we whale him, boys!” Out flashed the other revolver, and its threat- ening muzzle prevented any hostile demonstra- on. , “Ta, ta, gentlemen! You will really have to excuse me,” the Californian remarked, as he waved the real Jim Yards away from the door with the other revolver. ‘‘Sorry that I can’t stay longer, but the best of friends must part. I’il see you all again later, but if any of you are anxious to have a funeral in the town, and want a chance to ride in the first carriage, you had better follow me, and a finer opportu- nity you won’t get this side of Christmas. nd the Fresh slid out through the door. As long as the Californian was in the saloon the sight of his drawn revolvers and a certain something in his manner repressed the ardor of rance was entire- (Gj (ON) ‘com ‘S