Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 202 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

~ 22 **7 say it!” cried a new voice, and Old Tom Knott pushed to the front, blazing in all the glory of his new garments and bristling with weapons. ‘*‘ Durnation! you can’t fool me. I used my eyes wal ther night you scooped us in ther pass, an’ I kin sw’ar you are ther same man that led ther outlaws.” Cactus Jack broke into a ringing laugh. ‘* You are either a fool or a liar,” he said, good-naturedly. an alibi, and I can prove I was miles away all through the outlaws’ early career.” ‘it won’t work, you p’ison critter.” said Bill Busk. ‘‘Ther proof es dead ag’in’ you, an’ when ther Lower Bend sights sech game, up she goes a-hummin’.” ; — few feints and then struck ouf bard and true, but the his shoulder without trouble, and at the same time brushed the miner’s ear with a gentle downward cuff. ide. weapons stolen; together with their known ide passed the belligerent fist over | hostility, was proof enough of their intentions. | They meant to overrun the town, to murder and plunder, and if all things could be formed to their wishes not a roof would be left at It was a surprise to the victim, and with a | Black Bend, or a man alive to need a roof. flush of shame he sprung forward and sent out his fists like sledge-hammers—hotly, but with- out any immediate effect. ‘*Lord love ye! I can prove | No one knew better than the guides that | their case was a desperate one. If time was given them they could completely clear their ning planning bad brought the lynchers to the Bend at the worst of all times—when Brigham and his boys in blue were away. With them there the riot would have come to an untimely end; but as matters then stood, Bill Bush seemed master of the Bend proper and a bigger man than the captain of the post. He and his partners might taste to the dregs of trouble afterward; but in their fury they were ready to do any lawless anc desperate act. **T reckon there won’t be any hanging-bee,” Cactus Jack coolly said. ‘‘Iam ready to meet the charges of this lizard with the red nose; but as for shaking bands with Judge Lynch to- day I sha’n’t do it.” ‘We'll make you,” snarled Bush. ‘All ready, boyees; make a dash an’—” ‘* Hold on!” It was Zeke Bozeman who spoke, and even Bill Bush grew temporarily quiet under the command, for it was one which cut through flesh and bone, as it were. “Hold on!” said the mountaineer. ‘ This tom-foolery hez me fur enough. We ain’t in’ ter be hung this year, an’ ther galoot that ies it will lose ha’r. Mister Bill Bush, do you say that this sarpent is our accuser?” He pointed toward Tom Knott, and that man once more raised his voice. ‘He said it. Yas, you made a center thar, Iam yer accuser, an’ I’m Old Tom Knott, late o’ Biroc City. I started fur Black Bend wal heeled, an’ arrove hyer bu’sted. ’Ca’se why? You an’ your gang pounced on ther train in ther pass an’ took all we had, Durn ye, I see’d ye both thar!” ‘Who hired you to tell this lie?’ demanded Cactus Jack, remembering the warning of the masked girl. as Nobody hired me. Old Tom Knott needs no backer,” declared the stranded man. _ “Then, maybe, you’re willing to try titles with me on bare muscle. I'll fight you to see who's right, or I'll walk into the fort and stand trial when Brigham comes home.” ‘*T don’t fight with any sech cattle, besides—” ““So you show the white feather!” cried the giant. ‘‘A minute ago you said you needed no backer, and now you turn tail at the sight of the first dog in the barn.” ‘*Durn him! he’s so skeered he is white,” added Zeke. ‘ Old Tom Knott did seem flustrated, but Bill Bush came once more to the front. ‘*Don’t you cave, Tom!” he shouted. up your fists an’ prove yer charge.” ‘* He dassent,” sneered Bozeman. “TH gent when thar’s need on’t,” blustered Knott, “but hang me ef I tackle a road-agent on sech | proven as—” “Hold up!” interrupted Bush. ‘‘ Hyer’s a rooster that kin both crow an’ fight. 1’m ther boss o’ ther Lower Bend, an’ I kin tighten any spoke that rattles behind my team. Cactus Jack, ’m your pard in any kind 0’ a row yer hanker r, an’ ther hat may go round ther ‘* Put - erowd ter reward ther man that comes out _ ever, for Bush wheeled on them angri crowin’. me!” It was a bold challenge, but a murmur arose from the crowd. They had faith in Bill Bush, but the majority were of Knott’s way of think- ing, and in a hurry to give the accused men their send-off. Their growl was a morn how- Ve “Who dare’s lip-in when I say ther word?’ he demanded. “I’m ther boss 0’ this circus,, an’ I won’t see ther ring bu’sted. I kin lick ther man who kicks over ther shaft—who is he?” _ Noone answered. Not one of the Lower Bend men dared anger their leader, and a grim smile crossed his face. ‘*T reckon ther bill o’ fare will be held to. I ain’t no coyote ter rob a dyin’ man o’ jestice, an’ all Cactus Jack has got ter do is ter lick me, an’Cap’n Brigham kin step inter Jedge Lynch’s Toss up your shooters an’ come at slippers.” Tom Knott ventured to begin a remonstrance, but one look from Bush silenced him and the, would-be pugilists prepared for the encounter. Both tossed their weapons to friends, and while Zeke Bozeman, lookimg like a portable armory, watched keenly for the first sign of treachery, the principals faced each other in a business-like manner. ‘ Bill Bush set the ball in motion. He made a ys ,* _ reputations; but either luck or some one’s cun- | Plainly, Cactus Jack was no novice at the work, CHAPTER XXX, OTHER GUESTS ARRIVE. BILL BusH was fast verging on fury. For long weeks he bad reigned as king in the mining camp, and with all his skill and power he tried to beat down the man before him. It would ruin him if he should be worsted in the presence of bis satellites. Bozeman, watching his fight keenly, even while he kept an eye on the crowd to guard against treachery, soon perceived that Cactus Jack was the better man. Somewhat larger and stronger, he possessed a degree of ‘‘ science ” and quickness not known to Bill Bush. So far he was playing with him, but, anon, the tiger would show his claws. Now and then the mountaineer would glance toward the gold-hills. He would have given much to see Brigham and his men returning, for in the scowling faces of the miners he read a fixed purpose. Bill Bush had kept them well in hand, but stirred up by some secret plotter, they were seething with venom and a desire to play the lynchers. ** You’d better take a back seat, William, and give Tom Knott a chance,” observed the giant. ‘You don’t seem to be cutting a very wide swath.” ‘*Durn your butes! Ill hev you yit,” snarled the miner, as he again shot out a vain blow. **'Yon'd better back out or you may get hurt. No good can come-of your work; you bit off more than you can chew. I’m a tall cactus tree, sixty feet clean but all thorns. You'll get a good deal of electricity if you try to climb me. ‘*Knock him over, Bill,” suggested Tom Knott. ‘* Shut up your gin-mill, you coward!” roared the perspiring king. ‘* Don’t you lip-in again or I’\l knock you into chaos.” He began to feel that he was fighting an up- hill battle, and with all his powers at the front he went in to win or get beautifully whipped. His tremendous blows were crushers of their kind, but they spent their force on the air as before and the spectators plainly saw that Cactus Jack was only playing. Anon, be aroused and resolved to end the fight. There is little pleasure in violent exer- cise in a New Mexico sun, and as the perspira- tion began to trickle down his face in great beads, be gave Bush warning and assumed the offensive. His rapid blows bewildered the king of the Lower Bend, and in a minute more there was a heevy fall and then a hush as the miners saw their leader down. He was up in a moment, furious and chagrined, but as he sprung to re- stad the attack a single blow again prostrated im. This time he arose more slowly. He was no fool and he knew that Cactus Jack was bis master. To buck against him further would be to get seriously hurt; to give up there, would be to lose his proud position at the Lower Bend. It wasachoice between two evils and he knew not which to choose; but Bozeman, surveying the crowd, saw them whisper among themselves and knew that fresh trouble was brewing. Un- less he read the signs wrongly, they were con- templating a rush in disregard of King Bush’s orders. He was about to state his suspicions, when a frantic yelling at one side attracted the atten- tion of all, and a man came bounding toward the group from the western end of the town. e was without his hat, and as he came nearer the men began to distinguish some of his words: ‘**Injuns! Injuns!” he shrilly shouted. ‘‘ Ther —— are comin”, Injuns! Injuns!” t was no new cry to those men who had for vears lived near Apacheland, but it was the first time it had ever been sounded so near the fort. Before it had been erected the red-men had gone at their sweet will all over the adja- cent country; but feeble as the post really was, they had always given it a wide berth. ow, the crowd stared blankly at the yelling man, but Zeke Bozeman suddenly leveled his ong arm. “Thar they come, by ther Etarnal. Durn me ef they ain’t goin’ to charge ther tuwn an’ ther sojers are away !” Sure enough, a body of horsemen had emerged from the cover of the hills, and as they swept down toward the cabins they were easily distinguishable as Apache warriors mounted on their tough age They came in dead sence, but their multitude of arms—a varied collection of rifles, spears, revolvers and knives—weapons purchased and | Was it fate, or more of cunning plotting, which had sent them, like the miners, to the town at the precise moment when the soldiers were away. Just then none of the white men stopped to argue the question. They realized their danger, individual and collective, and Bill Bush at once became the veteran borderman. ‘* Wake up, pards,’’ be said, quickly. ‘‘ Them red heathen outnumber us all, an’ we must fight like thunder. Give me my weepons—” He paused suddenly and looked at the guides. ‘* Boyees,” he then abruptly added, *‘ you are old Injun-fighters an’ brave men. Shall we postpone this frolic an’ make common cause ag’in’ ther ’Patches?” ‘*Bet your boots!” answered Cactus Jack. ‘*Shove out your tools and we’ll mow a good swath for you.” Bill Bush clasped the hand of the gallant speaker, and then their weapons were returned to them, and every one seemed to forget the past trouble in looking to the present. In good truth, it was a crisis that demanded the attention of every able-bodied man at the Bend. Already, twice their own number of Apaches were in sight, and there was no knuow- ing how many more were behind, and as the red bucks were hard fighters and lifelong foes it was plain that something must be done to save the at. Bill Bush had og acted his nature when he took the hand of bis late antagonist. Braggart, bully and rough tbat he was, there was consid- erable manhood pent up in the crevices of his heart, and now that every arm was needed he became for the time Cactus Jack’s strong friend. Fight they might afterward, but Bill Bush would never act the hypocrite or backbiter. Several of the miners were voicing tie idea of seeking the sbelter of the fort, but Bush turned to Jack. ‘** What’s your advice, pard?” he asked. Tf you doit, Black Ben will be ablaze in half an hour,” the giant coolly answered... ‘‘I reckon you had better send a man to find Brig- ham and then fight the bucks from the cover of the cabins.” The king promptly fell into line and gave the required orders. The miners scattered to seek such cover as they deemed best, for some bow]- ders were scattered through the village, and then came the critical moment. All these movements had required but a short time, and no more time could bave been ob- tained. The oncoming Apaches would not wait, but, though outnumbered, the white men faced them resolutely. Cactus Jack, Bozeman and Bill Bush had sought the same cover—a long, low rock which at one end met an adobe cabin; and very soon their rifles were lying along the top of the breastwork. “T’ll take ther big buck on ther claybank,” said Bush, ‘‘ an’ let us all fire together.” They took aim, and at that moment the giant’s quick ears caught a familiar sound from the distant hills. It was the report of rifles, and he knew Brigham’s force was also engaged with some enemy. Simultaneously the three men fired, and the crack of their rifles was the death-note for as many Apaches.. Three went down in the front rank, and then from cabins and bowlders the a rifles began to spit out their fatal bits of ead. It was a destructive fire, for even the red- skins were no greater fighting-men than the veteran miners; but though many a gap was plowed in the red band, they did not for a mo- ment waver in their ett Bill Bush, ee reloading his rifle, was looking toward the fort tosee what the few blue-coats left there were going to do about it, but thus far not a soldier had made _ himself visible. ‘* Cuss ther cowards!” muttered the ‘ king,’ as he faced about for another shot. - The two guides were not bothered by the labor of reloading. Unlike the miners they carried repeating rifles—the same they had used on the plain when pursued by the red bucks—and, never lifting their heads, they were sending out shot after shot with deadly effect. But the wild warriors were at last close at hand, and with a series of yells they dashed into the midst of the defenders. | Pitted against ordinary men, they might then have had a fe | dl gay for they had ready weapons to oppose to the emptied rifles; but the miners were not made of coward- ly material. Lying close behind bowlders, or up against the cabin eorners, they brought out their re- volvers and began to shoot with the regularity and coolness of machines, The state of affairs at this juncture baffles description. Plenty of noise was furnished by the Indian yells and United States cheers, by / 7 Eomichbooks 7. : pst : se =