Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 197 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

10 —— a ee ee ee re eee Ce Revolver oOR | own property, but he wasa bit of a wag, and | swift gesture that caught the eye of Long John, just then fortune offered him a chance to exer- cise his wit. then drew back again. For a moment the gambler hesitated, for he was exceedingly loth In a hurried whisper he called attention to a | to abandon his purpose of sampling the contents closely vailed female figure at that moment entering the saloon. ‘‘There’s your chance now! Young and love- ly as an angel! Spunk up to her; but you mustn’t be mealy-mouthed. Pop plump and square-footed, and she'll give you the same sort of an answer.” He had no time for more words, as the vailed figure made no stop in the saloon, but was pass- | ing at once to the gambling room beyond. But he had said enough. been in war, Barnacle Bill seemed resolved not to be a laggard in love, for be leaped forward and plumped down on his knees directly in the path of the unknown. ‘* Don’t be skeered, anngellifferous madam!” he cried, in his most winning tones, and really looking a gallant suitor, despite his protruding eyes. ‘* Right down at your feet flops the never- atore tamed Wall-eyed Pike o’ the Peak—” The woman started back, flinging back her vail, revealing a faco of rare beauty, lighted up by a pair of glorious eyes which now flashed with indignation. ** What does this mean? mad?” Several of the men present started forward, but Long John Wilkinson also took a step for- ward, with a significant gesture, and none there cared to cross him, even to win a smile from the Belle of Nugget Camp—for the woman was none other than Dashing Della Delsarte. As Barnacle Bill saw her face, a gasping cry parted his bearded lips, and bis pop-eyes pro- truded worse than ever. Ina word, he seemed fairly electrified by that vision of loveliness. Still he was not rendered incapable of speech. ‘Drunk with love, an’ onless you say you'll marry me this very night, Pll be mad—mad- der’n a wet hen— aal, | be durned!” . In swift succession came two sharp concus- sions, caused by the little palms of Dashing Della coming in violent contact with his cheeks, and then she slipped past bim, leaving him on his knees in the center of the floor, tears in bis eyes, so stinging had been the blows. A ripple of laugbter ran around the room, as Barnacle Bill slowly arose, but sober silence followed his first words. ‘*‘ A woman kin slap my face—she kin use moe for a door-mat to wipe her shoes onto, an’ you'll never hear me kick, But the man as laughs ag’in [ kin an’ will lick so p’izen bad be won’t be fit bait fer mud-cats! It’s Barnacle Bill that sings, gentlemen, an’ when you see his back-fin a-risin’ an’ his tail a-stirrin’ up a whirlpool, you want to hunt your‘holes or git ready fer busi- ness in a holy minnit!” He spoke in © low, even tone that was far more impressive than the’ loudest threats or blustering, and even the most reckless desperado there cared little about putting the giant to the test. And even the redoubted gambler turned a shade paler as be softly moved a hand toward his revolver when the Wall-eyed Pike faced in that direction. But the expected explosion did not come. “‘[ don’t know but what it was a sort o’ job you put up on me that time, mate, but 1l’m ready to fergive ye long o’ the knock-down ye give me to the gelorious critter—gal, woman or angel—which air it, pard?” “A woman, straight enough,” was the re- sponse, a slight wink agitating the eyelid fur- thest from Barnacle Bill. ‘* And one, too, that must have been struck by your peculiar style of beauty, or you’d never have got off as easy.” ‘‘ Rasy be durned!” ejaculated Barnacle Bill, gingerly fingering bis still tingling ears. ‘ She’s got a slap o’ the fist that’s wuss then the kick o’ a mule’s foot!” tN othing more than a@ little love-tap, my **Oh, I ain’t a-cryin’, so don’t think it. Ef so be she sais the word, she kin git up her muskle that-a-way every day in the year. ‘Pears like it’d jest be fun to be a choppin’-block fer that gorgeous heifer—an’ you said she was jest a plain woman without any angel-trim- min’s an’ sech?”’ at John Wilkinson nodded, never cracktn a smile. ‘No wees critter got that claim staked out an’ recorded?” ‘If so, he lays mighty low. No one here has ever heard of him. Not but that there are plenty of boys in these diggin’s who'd be only too glad to say different, but the odds are too heavy for any one man to buck against.” Barnacle Bill flung out one hand with a proud gesture. “Little minners kin keep cluss along the shore, but the Wall-eyed Pike o’ the Peak never yit see the water deep enough to skeer him out, specially when he see sech a gelorious bait a- danglin’ afore his nose—not much! Mebbe thar is a hook inside, with a strong line tied to it an’a pole big enough to send me a-floppin’ out o’ the drink to gloryamen! but all the same, I’m goin’ to take a bite, jest fer luck!” At that moment a tall, dark man thrust his head and shoulders inside the door, making a Are you drunk, or | the question | | Whatever he may have | | ' LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL LL LLL LL LL LLL ttc gt ti of Barnacle Bili’s purse, but for some reason he was compelled to respond to the summons with- out delay. ‘* Wait here until I come back, and I'll tell you all you care to know about that lady,” e said in a hurried whisper. ‘ Fight shy of the boys here if they begin to talk cards, unless you can finger them for all that’s out. [ll not gone long,” and he hastened away to answer the call. MOD Tne BEGeManage i + 9 Ee ce ee ee ek ee Barnacle Bill was steering ftoward the dark | | ye; Billy-boy ain’t no hog!” woolen curtain which separated the saloon from the gambling hall, when a tall, stoop- shouldered individual in black clothes of cleri- cal cut, but decidedly the worse for wear, sidled up to him with a deprecating bow and | sickly smile. **Humbly beggin’ pardon fer introodin’ onto a gent, but you ’peared a good deal struck with that lady, an’ ef I do say so myself, thar ain’t another man livin’ as kin tell you more about her then this werry indiwidooal—excoose my card,” and with another low bow, he extended a dirty bit of pasteboard on which was [rudely orinted with a pen, “Tho Rev. Pericles jPar- uckle, D. D.” Barnacle Bill read the legend, then summed the fellow up at one keen, comprehensive glance. “The name’s all right, stranger, but them two last letters—reckon they mean Dead Duck, or Dirty Dog, don’t they?’ ‘**Have your little joke,” said the bummer, with a nervous laugh, rubbing his grimy hands as though he enjoyedit hugely. ‘‘ ima kinder down on my luck now, but it didn’t always was—” ‘*T know all about that. hint bout that trim young heifer. me who an’ what she is?” The Reverend Pericles Parbuckle east a sly glance around the saloon, and seeing that they were being curiously watched, he nodded toward the other room, whispering huskily: **We kin talk better in thar,” leading the way past the curtain. ‘‘Does I know her? Well, I should whisper! We was raised to- gether—or next door neighbors, anyway—’”’ He ceased speaking, for he saw that Barnacle Bill was not attending to him, but was standing in open-eyed amazement with his gaze fixel on the dealer at one of the faro tables. He could scarce believe the evidence of his eyes, yet there was no mistake. The hat with its disguising vail, and the long, mufiling cloak was gone, revealing a rich yet tasty toilet, but the pure blonde face with its lorious blue eyes was the same of which he ad caught a glimpse in the saloon beyond. She was seated at the faro table, with its painted lay-out, her jeweled fingers daintily You slung out a Kin you tell ; ‘ a ee SUE erent eo toying with the silver box containing the fresh- | ly-shuffled cards, placidly waiting for the double rank of players to place their different colored chips on the cards of their choice for the deal which was just about to commence. It was a sightsuch as only the wild West with its still wilder class of people could produce. A. young and lovely woman—seemingly fit to be an ornameré to society or the idol of a quiet household—acting as caterer to a lot of half- drunken roughs, dealing faro for cut-throats and professional black-legs! “Thar you see her, boss,” said the bummer, in his husky whisper, from close to Barnacle Bill’s elbow, ‘‘ Dashing Dell, as the sports call her; the trimmest little clipper that ever flipped the eta but a tearer from the word git-up- an’-git!’ e giant turned upon him sharply, almost fiercely, and there was a threatening ight in his big blue eyes as he said: ‘None o’ your dirty hints about that angel in petticoats, onless you want me to wring your neck like a spring chicken!” Parbuckle dodged as though anticipating a blow, hastily uttering: ‘* Lord bless ye, I ain't quits secha fool. Ef a body was to even look crossways at Dashing Dell, the boys would chaw him into monkey- feed afore he could git the kinks out o’ his eyes. No, sir! not fer Joseph!” pS ** Does she deal here every night, or is it only a sort o’ freak fer this once?” ‘‘Reg’lar as the night comes, thar she is, business clean through. The Oasis wouldn’t be a Oasis, buta p’izen desert without Dashing Dell. The boys would pine away an’ wither like a lightnin’-struck sunflower ef a night was to come an’ go without the little beauty thar to rake in thar shekels.” ‘* You say she ain’t married?” ** Ef I said so I fergot it, but it’s true, all the same. Toaman up a tree, it looks as though sech a persition as chief-cook-an’-bottle-washer to sech a captain as she, would be jest a little heaven all to itself; but things ain’t always what they look. Now I ain’t nigh as rich as ens mought think, jest to look at my git-up, ut thar ain’t money enough in all Arizony to hire me fer to take that ish—a cast-iron man couldn’t hold it longer then fer the boys ' ' a eS ——— | to git wind of the ’rangement; then thar’d be a funeral, sure /” [f he thought to bluff the Wall-eyed Pike off, he underrated bis man, for Barnacie Bill waited to hear no more than that his new-found divinity was still ‘‘in the market,” when be made bis way to the faro table, and pressing to the front rank, dropped his heavy purse of gold upon the table. ‘** Back-fin up an’ tai a-wigglin’! Cl’ar the riffles, all ye little minners, an’ give Barnacle Bildad Tholuck room to spread hisself! Heaps o’ ducats here, an’ dead Joads more whar that come from! Don’t git skeered, anngelifferous madam—l’ll play light when luck goes aga’nst Dashing Dell vouchsafed the speaker a single glance as she deftly rippled the cards and re- placed them in the box, but not the slightest alteration came over her face to show that she recognized the ardent suitor of the saloon. ‘** Make your game, fortune awaits you, gen. tlemen!” Despite the love-fever which burned so ar- dently in his veins, Barnacle Bill played a steady game and gave evidence of a thorough knowledge of the rules, still fortune seemed to have an especial spite against him, for without an exception, the cards ran against him, and his plethoric sack speedily grew thin as his gold flowed into the bank. Far more uneasy than the luckless gambier, who seemed to be fully repaid for his losses by the sight of the beautiful dealer, Pericles Par- buckle pee toy and fumed, bis fingers itching for some of the gold which the other was getting rid of so fast, but the Wall-eyed ‘Pike o’ the Peak turned a deaf ear to his whispered advice, and played his own way. As his last stake was swept away, Barnacle Bill drew a long breath, his protruding eyes fixed on the immobile face of the blonde siren opposite, but apparently she had eyes for naught save her dealing. ‘*A clean thousan’ gone, and nothin’ to show fer it!” almost howled Pericles Parbuckle, hop- ping from one foot to the other like a turkey dancing on hot plates. ‘ Why didn’t you pay ‘tention to what I said? You'd ’a’ bu'sted the bank, sure!” ‘* An’ so ruined this anngelifferous madam?” indignantly retorted the gallant Barnacle, with a languishing leer at the face of Dashing Dell. ‘‘No, sir! Bring a tear into them eyes? Be sech a bloody ol’ gar as that? When he does sech a dirty trick, you kin call the great an’ only Wall-eyed Pike o’ the Peak a cross atween a mud-cat an’ a tappin’ snorkle! Fer jest one sweet smile from them rosy-red lips, or a little ’preciatin’ look from them angel-eyes, I’d coin every scale on my carcass into golden eagles an’ pour them into ber lap!” Eagerly Barnacle Bill watched the effect of this hyperbolical speech, but placidly as ever Dashing Della dealt on, not a muscle, of her beautiful face changing, not a sign to show that she heard or understood his words. With a sigh that seemed to come from the very bottom of his stomach, Barnacle Bill yield- ed his place to another player, but still hung around the table, unable to tear bimself away from his lode-star. The passion which filled his bosom, however, was too great for him to smother altogether, and ere long he broke forth: ‘“‘The world’s holler, and my doll’s stuffed with sawdust! When a man hain’t got no more, money, an’ the angel what he is jest dead- gone onto, what’s the wuth o’ livin’ an’ wastin’ good air? Not a durned bit. Ef I should go out an’ make a hole in the drink with my car- cass, who is they as would heave a sigh or drop a tear ’cause the only great Wall-eyed Pike o’ the Peak—the ’riginal Barnacle o’ Colorado— hed petered out? Not one! An’ durned ef I wouldn’t do it, too, ef the water wasn’t so p’izen wet that it’d bring back my rheumatics!” ‘* What’s the matter, mate?” asked a rough voice, as a man dressed in mining costume entered the room and advanced toward the table. ‘' What’s gone wrong with you?” ‘Dead broke, an’ my sweetness hes soured on me!” was the lugubrious reply, pointed by a reproachfal look toward Dashing Della, and Barnacle Bill sighed like a furnace. “You don’t mean that critter?” and the shaggy eyebrows were uplifted, while the brist- ling mustaches curled sneeringly as the fellow followed the giant’s glance. ‘“‘Then you're a rat fool for your trouble! Go an’ slit some eller’s wiazen, take his dust an’ toss it in her lap. Be sure she’ll cuddle down to ye ag'in as gr your money lasts.” Hon o you mean me, sir?’ demanded Dashing ella. “You or any other brazen, painted—” A sharp report cut the fonl speech short, and as he fell across the table, a red cross showed upon his shoulder. CHAPTER VIII. REVOLVER ROBINSON FIGHTS THE TIGER. For one instant those who had caught the sharp question and answer which passed between fees Repos and the dark-browed miner, be- li ved that the former had avenged herself by IJOO “S (E (E() mi (Eo)