Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 202 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

¢ ** Fore de Lord, Miss Marian, I is jest scared to deff. When I found it, an’ saw de blood an’ de holes, I jest drapped right down on de floor. I remembered de sojer dat was shot in de night, an’ I knowed dis was his coat. Oh! honey, you don’t know bow my heart went thumpin’ round like a wooden-legged man goin’ down-stairs.” ‘** Put it back, I say; put it back.” Miss Townsend did not speak sharply; she was staring at vacancy with a fixed face. Molly silently obeyed, and then her tongue again broke loose. . “Chile,” she said, ‘‘ who brung dat coat here?” Marian rallied. ** Who do you think?” she asked. “It wasn’t you or me, nor de ole massa, an’ - as fur de boys, dey—” **Of course James and Lucas had no hand in the work, Molly, but you and I must keep silent forever. Do not, under any condition, mention this tomy father. Will you promise?’ ‘*] do, Miss Marian, 1 do. Not even de in- question wid de rack an’ stretcher kin unloose my ogee. I is dumb.” Miss Townsend knew that the negress sus- pected more than she intimated—she could not well do otherwise—but she could not then talk | of the matter. Sbe went at once to her room, and with her feverish head in her band, pro- pounded ~ ~~>stion. * Was. vames or Lucas? God help me, but one of my brothers is a murderer, or an accom- plice. I know not which one; I dare not sus- pect: but in either case I am his sister, and my ips are sealed.” CHAPTER XX, A TRIO OF NEW CHARACTERS. Or course when a settlement springs up in the West, all the men who flock there do not take to gold-diggtog. Instead, many stay out, and not infrequently such men are those who make the most money. Miners must have sup- : 5 — ’ * ~~ % Aq i 7 * : ‘ : c i" f - "ret 4 f a ¥ . ‘ a » oe * r , s er 7 toke - - * plies, in the shape of food to eat, clothes to wear, tools for their trade and so on, and the dealers who sell to them ply their trade ata rate of peihga which would shock a Shylock of the caliber of the original gentleman of that name. Dealers in liquid poison have the pole so far as trade and profit go, but their fellow ‘‘ mer- chants” are not far from the wire when a fat purse is offered. Por some time previous to the opening of our story, one Elbridge McKey had kept a clothing store at the west end of the city. His rustic sign over the door certified that he was a mer- chant tailor, and the goods he sold received a degree of making and alteration in his own ‘shop, in order to perfect them, if his word went for anything It was McKey himself who used the needle, and for some reason, perhaps because he was a modest man, he did his work in an inner room and let Slim Sam, his clerk, do the business Over the counter. It was the day after the events just recorded and one of those few hours when McKey was himself visible in his store. Slim Sam had gone fishing, on a watermelon raid or some other youthful expedition, and Elbridge bh ld the fort alone. One other man was in the store—a stout, burly fellow in a red shirt, big hat and muddy boots; an attire which indicated that he was a miner, just as his looks and actions suggested that he had crooked his elbow too often in the saloon below. He had bought a small package, and, failing up his end in conversation, was fast fall- ing asleep in a standing posture when the door opened and a new-comer appeared. + The miner aroused and McKey looked at the visitor with an interest which turned to disgust. No customer washe likely to prove, for out of such a pyramid of dirt and rags no amount of labor could coax pay dirt. In the middle of the floor the new-comer halted. “How?” he genially said, putting out one hand as though McKey was expected to clasp it at a distance of twelve feet; but the mer- chant tailor only nodded slowly. . ‘*T have come on biz,” said the man of rags; * strickly on a matter o’ biz.” | “Thought you had come to have your pic- ture taken,” said McKey, with sarcasm, for it | - wasnot hard to size this whisky-marked old map. . ** Not ter-day, pard, not ter-day. ’Fore I go away I may take a settin’ an’ fill up ther albums ’round town, but, pard,” and he ad- vanced quite near to McKey and held out one long, bony finger, ‘‘ ther fact is lam now dead bu’sted.” ** Must have been a terrible crash when you went to pieces,” ‘Put it thar, pard; you’ve made a center. Sir, an’ you on my right hand, I am ther wreck 0’ acapable man. that. Ihave lost my canvas, but ther ole shi is stillsound. I am only temporarily bu’sted. Gents, Iam one o’ ther emigrants cleaned out by ther Black Masks.” The announcement was made with startling Did I say wreck? No, not Cactus Jack, the Giant Guide. emphasis, and the speaker looked from one to ; ' ' | | ' LLL LLL LL LL tt ett tat eS —_—_————————— ee properly take in the narrative. | cidly. At that point the stranded man paused and looked back. ‘*T don’t blame you,” he said, reproachfully, ‘fur looks are ag’in’ me, but Old Tom Knott is sound esa nut. I never was bu’sted before, an’ some day you'll see me ther king-pin o’ Black Bend. Put it thar!” They went out, and after a short pause, Mc- ment, ‘** A big haul they must have raised on you,” sneered McKee, who plainly saw what was coming. ‘‘Now you makeacenter. It was a big haul fur them an’ it left me bu’sted. ‘Ten thousand dollars I had in my pocket, an’ with this sum [ | Key walked to the door and looked after them. was goin’ inter biz in Black Bend an’ grow up | The stranded man, in the glory of bis new suit, with ther city. That was my stake.” | was bravely striving to earn his wages, and as “Well?” said McKey, patiently. | the pair went down the street, his arm kept Bill ‘Ther result is ther result. They stole my | Bush above earth, but did not prevent a consid- cash an’ even rrbbed me 0’ my clothes, so hyer | erable amount of curving. I am in these played-out togs. It is a great Such scenes were too familiar to bring a smile fall, gents, an’ none o’ my friends in Siroc City | to McKey’s lips, but as he glanced in the oppo- ever thort ter see Old Tom Knott a _ bu’sted | site direction he suddenly started. man,” ‘The fair Marian, by my life!” he muttered. “Go right on with your lecture,” said the merchant tailor, while the man in the red shirt winked frequently to keep his eyes open and ‘*Your encouragement doesmeproud, Pard. A OBLAST lee me. I see you b'lieve in Old Tom Kouott, an’ when! BILL Buss and his new partner walked away oudoit youmakeacenter. Putittbar. Pard, | from the town with many an eccentric swerve have a painful duty ter perform.” | and stumble, but the miner had faith to believe ‘* Drive on your ambulance.” Knott would guide him safely to the Lower ‘‘Tt is hard on a capable man, but it hits me | Bend. This place, so called, was half a mile hard ter be seen in these togs. What I now | from the fort and near two of the largest mines; hanker arter is a suit o’ decent clothes.” but it was included in the town of Black Bend. ‘‘T knew it was coming,” said McKey, pla- After leaving the cabins of the city proper, their road lay through Pleasant Canyon—a place ironically named, since it was thoroughly dismal—but the stranded man did not seem to fear the shadows and patiently steadied Bush’s uncertain steps. ‘*'You’re a good feller, Tommy,” declared the miner, ‘an’ now you've tied onter me you kin make up your mind yer ill-luck is over. I’m a man o’ pay-dirt with a granite foundation, I’m ther boss o’ ther Lower Bend an’ I’)l make you a big gun afore I git done with you.” ‘IT need a leetle backin jist now,” Knott ac- knowledged. ‘‘I’m dead bu’sted, an’ when a man gits thrown overboard it ain’t always easy to climb back.” ‘** Don’t you worry, oleman. Bill Bush is be- hind youin this game, an’ when he takes ko): thar ain’t a man in New Mexico as dares to say boo,” se Boo ” Like an echo to his last word, but with his own loud boast magnified into an ear-splitting yell, the single trio of letters was at that instant the other as though expecting a boom of excite- | a | | CHAPTER XXL I like such men es you—we make a center every hit. Eh?’ “Well?” ‘“*Wal,” said the bu’sted man, more slowly, “ef you will stand me up fur a suit o’ clothes, I'll pay you double ten days hence.” “Mr. Knott, your name is against you. I don’t do business on tick, so you can Knott have the clothes. You have calied according to Hoyle and you can now leave the same way. You andIcan’ttrade. If you hanker for good c'othes, go to the Lower Bend and use a pick. Your yarn about ten thousand dollars won’t wash, aud the sooner you vamose from here, the better. Git!” Mr. McKey believed he had done his whole duty by allowing this dilapidated bummer to talk so long, and he now pointed to the door and spoke with considerable vigor. But the stranger stood still and stared at him with seeming amazement. “Who? When? Where?’ he almost gasped. | howled over his shoulder, ‘‘Wheream I? DolIdream or bel mad? This If the earth had opened and swallowed him ter me? Pard, you can’t mean it. You can’t | up, Bill Bush could not have been more sur- ‘* Your keenness 0’ perception does yer credit. ee Oe — say this seriously ter Old Tom Knott.” prised and alarmed. He gave an answering ‘Behind you, Mr. Tom Knott, is a door. If | yell and sprung from Knott’s hold, but the you don’t take your shadow away from it in | effort was too much for him and he went down two shakes I shall throw you into the street. | with his face burrowing in the sand. You hear me?” Then, before he could turn, a heavy weight The merchant tailor thrust his fist forward | was placed on his back, bis hands drawn to- over the counter and the bummer retreated a | gether and crossed, and in a moment more he little, his face falling below zero, but at that | made out that some one was binding them. moment the man in the red shirt straightened ; _ 1t was an inglorious plight for the boss of the himself by the aid of the ccunter and came to | Lower Bend, and, a little sobered, he foamed the front, with rage and tried to shake off the weight. ‘*]'ll take a hand in this yer game, I reck’,” he said, ina husky voice. ‘‘I’m Bill Bush, o’ | ther Lower Bend, an’ ’m a steam-engine on a milk-train. I’m ther Boss o’ ther Bend an’ a pay-dirt bank. Tom Knott, what kin ye do?” ** Do?” echoed the stranded man, **T said it.” **T don't exactly git ther drift o’ yer meanin’.” ** Kin you fight?” : ‘Ask them down at Siroc City. Ask any graveyard in New Mexico. Ask, an’ you'll Varn that Old Tom’ Knott is an infernal ma- chine with saltpeter.” ‘*T want a pard,” said Bill Bush, steadying himyvelf by the counter; ‘* J want aman ter lead me ter ther Lower Bend. I am drunk asa liz- ard on one leg. I’ve b’isted the blamed cata- rack stuff til! ’m way-up. Kin you lead me ter ther Lower Bend?” “Now you make a center. Kin I? EflI can’t, you may plant me whar ther buzzards sing. Put it thar!” “Ther way es dangerous, Chasms yawn by ther way; ther Black Masks hide in ther gulches, an’ ther Apaches chant their hymns at ‘arly morn, Isay, kin you lead me?” Bill Bush was winking vigorously and sway- ing in time, and the stranded man began to see land. He again declared his ability to perform the work, and then the boss of the Lower Bend turned to McKey. “Give mv pard a broadcloth suif, an’ Pll pay ther bill. How does that strike you?” He flung’ down a twenty-dollar gold-piece, and the merchant tailor promptly scooped it in. He khew Bush was acting with the folly of a drunken man, but that was none of his business as long as he sold his goods. In a short time the trade was completed, and Tom Knott cast off his rags and put on the stout suit so easily gained. McKey suggested that a little water applied to his face would do no harm, but Bush took offense at the remark and the matter was laid on the table. Then the new pards prepared to depart. Knott put his arm affectionacely around the miner, and after some unnecessary curves they reached the door, were bound and he was rolled over on his back to see a strange and unwelcome sight. Two pew-comers bad _— on the scene and one stood over bim with a drawn revolver, while the second was only a few paces away and covering the stranded man in a similar manner. Knott had not been bound, but the fact that he was weaponless showed a reason. Both of the assailants wore black masks, and it cid not take long to locate them. ‘How do you like it, Bill Bush?’ his con. queror grimly asked. The miner burst into a stream of profanity and wrestled madly with his bonds. ‘‘Let me loose!” he bowled, making a noise calculated to excite a buffalo bull to jealousy. fur it.” ‘‘Easy, now, William, easy,” was the even reply. ‘* You may bu’st your paddle-wheel ef you vell so loud.” ‘You infarnal coyote, let me up an’ I'll bu’st your head. I’m ther boss o’ ther Lower Bend _ an’ I kin Jick you in one round.” ‘Bah! you can’t even stand alone. Boss o’ ther Bend! Why, you poor, miser’ble critter, you ain’t boss 0’ common sense. You've filled up with rum until your brains are gone to thun- der. A'lee samee, you are the fish we were layin’ fur. We b’long ter ther Black Masks, an’ we know you ain’t spent all your dust yet.” **'You’re a liar an’ a coward!” ‘William, don’t go on that way. Don’t you think yourself a leetle ha’sh? My feelin’s are tender an’ ’m an only child.” ‘*Tom Knott,” howled the miner, ‘‘ why don’t you sailin? Go for them, tooth an’ nail.” ‘Yes, Tom Knott,” said the second man, mockingly, ‘‘why don’t you sail in? Come right up an’ git your last supper.” | The revolver covered the bran new red shirt of the stranded man, but he doubled his fists and scowled fiercely. ‘‘Give me a chance an’ I'll chip in,” he de- clared. ‘* You've got ther drop an’ I’m bus’ted, hut when ther couplin’s are all right you'll find Tom Knott right thar.” Vain attempt; but in a twinkling his bands , ‘*Cuss you, let me loose or I'll have ycur blood | S com: G — boo