Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 189 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

—E - —— a ee ** 26 aap and there was little choice between the | time I became a sober man, and heard him wo suppers, Anotier day came, and not a soul did he see forgive his murderer. “TI lay ill of brain fever for weeks, and then until the same outlaw came with tood and | went to Texas to get away from myself and water. ‘‘Fer my animiles,” as he expressed it. ‘‘ Where is your chief?” asked Wild Bill, “Gone off somewhere.” ‘‘ And Hyena Harry?” **Oh, he’s here.” haunting memories. “T became a deadly shot, a perfect rider, -and the champion in all sports, and yet I was wretched even in my triumphs. “T longed to drown memory in the wine- cup, but yet had the strength to shun it, and ‘‘When do you expect Captain Tiger back?” | at length I was called home to see my sister ‘Nobody knows adzactly, and the boys do gay he hey gone ter git hima wife’’ “A wife?” ‘* Yes; ther darter o’ ther old man yer kilt | | do much good in it. fn heur t’other night. ** Wa’n’t yer ashame’ ter kill thet sickly old man? ‘“Why, ther grizzly wudn’t hey did thet,” and the villain assumed a look of holy horror, which caused Wild Bill to say; “Tf Thad hold of youl’d make you think the grizzly had you.” ‘Yer look it; but it hain’t my bizziness ter git in yer grip. “Pll be heur ter-morrer with another nice feed, an’ I hope yer’ll be in a better humor.” With this the man left, and the weary hours of darkness dragged their slow length along for the poor prisoner until another day came and passed. - Then Wild Bill began to feel somewhat anx- ious, for if Red Dove had intended acting to savo him ho knew she would have done so moro promptly, unless something had befallen her, and the absence from camp of Tiger made him feel desperately uneasy. But, bound hand, foot and neck, he could only wait, and if belp came not to him take the consequences, whatever they might be. CHAPTER LI. THE PARSON’S STORY. As my story is forced into a very short: pe- fiod of time, kind reader; it necessitates my going from character to character, and pen- painting the incidents and adventures that be- fell them, and now I return to Poker City and those there in whom I hope I have created an interest in these pages. Harvey Haviland was one of those ‘* work- ers in the vineyard” that never allowed the grass to grow under his feet in carr out everything he had undertaken, and conse- quently he had Poker City “by the ears,” so tos in a very short time. first sermon in that very wicked com- munity was a surprise and a delight to all who heard it. | Edna had gone to hear him, and she, too, found consolation, sympathy and hope in lis- tening to the young clergyman. If timid in manner when alone with her, in the pulpit—a dry goods box so called—he was an orator and eloquent in the extreme. The constitutional church sleepers got no ehance to take a nap that day, and he made every hearer feel that he was talking directly him or her. In advising his hearers to not give them- selves up to drink, he waxed so eloquent in portraying the misery of a drunkard that a miner said audibly: “T guess ther parson knows how ’tis hisself.” The remark reached the ears of the preacher, and his face turned crimson, and then white as snow, and in thundering tones he cried: “Ay, you have spoken the truth, a true word in jest, my friend, for I do know how it is myself. “Once I had a happy home, loving parents, and a sister who was my idol. “‘T was sent to college and there I became dissipated, and rapidly went from bad to worst, until all hope of redeeming me was given up in the hearts of those who loved me. “‘My beautiful sister married my best, my truest friend, and when, one day, he remon- strated with me for my conduct, maddened by wine, I struck him. “He was not the man to take a blow, and be challenged me. , “ Stil wild with liquor, I accepted, instead of throwing myself at his feet and begging him to forgive and forget. ‘* We met on the dueling field, and there he felt he could not fire upon me, so discharged his weapon in the air. ‘But not so with me, for I had no mercy in my wine-maddened brain, and I fired directly “t him and he fell mortally wounded. “He lived just five minutes, and in that die of a broken heart. “And in dying she too forgave me for kill- ing her husband, and said to me; ‘«* Brother, the world is large, and you can “* Go where this shadow does not hang over | you, and teach others who hre sinning the way to repentance,’ “I obeyed that dying wish, studied for the ministry, became a clergyman, and I have come here to lead you, my friends, out of the slough of sin in which you are mired. “‘ Unfortunately for me, and fortunately for others, [ have had to again take human life; but it was not as that one sin of my life, and it does not rest as an iron weight upon my soul, “T meant not to tell you,-my friends, that your teacher of a correct life was Cain-ac- cursed, but hearing that remark, I kave con- fessed to you how truly do I know how all wickedness is myself, and I beg you to find peace as I have done.” A few more words, and when Harvey Havi- land stepped out of the pulpit—drygoods box —his sermon ended, a shout from that wild congregation made the sbingles rattle, and he was seized on the shoulders of his admirers and borne back to the hotel, where he was voted ‘‘a brick,” and enrolled two-score names of repentant sinners, who, in the language of one of their number: “ Were willin’ an’ ready ter kick ther stuffin’ out of sin an’ sw’ar ter live subdooed, so as ter be able ter climb, ther golden stairs an’ dig ther dust o’ richeousness in ther Happy Hunt- in’ Grounds, as them d—d cussed onery Injuns calls ther place o’ Heavenly Rest.” : CHAPTER LILI... THE WOMAN IN BLAOK, THe day after the parson’s sermon Andy Rush drove up with hic stage, and calling out to Dan Dale, said: ‘*Gov’ner, ther Desperado Dozen hev made it so lively on ther road o’ late I has but one pilgrim inside ther hearse, an’ she are a ’ooman.” ‘Did you see the Agents this run in, Andy?’ asked Dan Dale, as he stepped to the door, hat in hand, to welcome the lady guest.” ‘* Not a hoof or hair.” Then he turned to the passenger inside the stage and continued: Ther old hearse hev arriv’, ma’am, at ther Hikok Hash Mill, an’ yer is in Poker City.” Dan Dale then opened the door and a woman in black, and deeply vailed, got out. “ Distill’d sweetness long drawn out.” ‘*She’d make two ord’nary sawed-off gals,” “She'll run ter seed ef they lets her grow.” ‘Guess her folks is all in ther bone-yard.” ‘Yas, she do be in black; wonder ef her face are ther same?” Such were the running comments of the crowd, at the appearance of the passenger, who was remarkably tall for a woman; and clad in rich deep mourning, she did give the idea that she had no relatives living. ‘Guess she’s arter some husband as hes for- got ter go hum ter his fambly; but she’ll hev growed so sin’ he see her, he’ll not know her.”’ ** Dan’ll hev ter git her a telescope bed ter draw out.” “ He can’t fill her on hash three meals daily, an’ a night-mare supper afdre retirin’, and make a cent on ord’nary prices.” And so on went the remarks, the crowd seeming deeply interested in the tall stranger, who was at once dubbed: “The Woman in Black.” Just then Andy Rush came in, nodding right and left, and heading through the crowd, like & Mississippi steamer among snags, for the bar, where Carrots presided, as red headed as ever. “ Whar’d yer cotch her, Andy?” asked one. “Ef she’d ,hev clum a tree an’ pulled it up arter her, ye’d hev never catched her, Andy.” “Who are she?” “Whar are she from?” “* Does she be a wedded woman?” LT: “Fes she got uny children, or is ihey all deceased?” “'W’u’d she like “er marry?” Nearly wild at the shower of qnestdons, Andy cried: * Boys, I’:] tell yer all I knows about ther lady. ‘She comed from Sandy Station, an’ are lookin’ fer some kin she hoped ter find heer, She hev ther dust, an’ pays fer what she gits.”’ ‘* Are she good-lookin’?”’ asked one, ‘* Waal, she hev a face thet hain’t homespun beauty, an’ it do hev a look as though ef she war married she'd w’ar ther britches,” ‘Yas; I got a squint of her, an’ durned ef I badn’t ruther hev her my widder then my wife,” said one of the crowd, ‘‘ What are her name?” another asked, ‘Mrs, Long.” “Ther name are korrect, she are long fer this world,” and Andy having invited all to drink, a rush was made for the bar. But just then the parson came along, and 4 score of voices were heard shouting: ‘‘'Water fer me, Carrots, ef | drown.” ‘‘ Lemonade fer me, Carrots.” “ Water, pard, with ther chill tuk off.” “Cider, Carrots, o’ ther bard kind.” ‘Yas, cider fer me too, on’y a leetle mors harder than Toby’s.” These calls of the repentant for drinks, showed plainly that the Fighting Parson was carrying the good work bravely on. CHAPTER LIIL KIDNAPPED. | Tae ‘‘ Woman in Black ” seemed tobe in no way bashful about making herself at home in the hotel, for she told Governor Dan that she wanted the best and could pay for it. She wished her meals served in her rooms, too, and if there were any ladies in the botel she would be glad to meet them, as she was very lonesome, She talked business in a way that showed she knew what she talked about, and said she had met with a sad bereavement in the death of her husband, whom she had not seen for years, and who had died in Poker City some months Dan asked his name and remembered a rich miner of that name who had died suddenly— been shot—and it was said he had a wife who would come on and claim his property. As an opportunity offered, when Edna Insley was passing through the bail, Dan intro- duced the two ladies to each other. Edna saw a woman of thirty-five, perhaps, with a face that was strongly marked, and did not take to her. But Mrs. Long seemed to go into ecstasies over Edna’s beauty, and seemed so kind to her, and talked of her loneliness in the world, that the maiden could not but treat her po- litely. , The tbird day after the coming of the Wo- man in Black to the Hikok Hotel, she begged Edna to take a drive with her, A, The maiden, stil anxious and sorrowing re- garding the fate of her father, for no word had come to her from Wild Bill, did not care to go; but warmly urged, she consented, and a vehicle, the only attempt at a carriage in Poker City, was ordered to the door, It was a rickety old concern, half ambu- lance, half cart, and as it rattled down the street, driven by its owner, it received many comments from the lookers on. “* What’s its breed, Spikes?” “ Are it a cirkis van?’ ‘Ther town hearse are more comfortable fer a ride, ladies.” ‘Tt are lame in thet off hind wheel.” ‘Don’t stop suddint, Spikes, or it will hurt ther horses,” ‘Tt are a churn on wheels.” These comments, many of them, reached the ears of Spikes the owner and driver, and also were heard by Edna and Mrs, Long in spite of the rattling, and the two ladies laughed at them. ‘Which way, leddies?” asked Spikes, draw- ing up at the forks of the street, where ter- minated Poker City proper. ‘‘Do you think your carriage will stand the mountain road?” asked Mrs. Long. 'Yas’m, it can’t be hurted,” was Spikes’s frank remark, though it was not intended as 9 slight on his vehicle. ‘‘T should think not,” murmured Edna, Co up the mountain road the crasy vebiel s Eomicbooks.cor