Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 218 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

6 that the sound of my horse’s hoof-stroke would have brought some one into it; but no one came. ‘Was there nobody within? I waited for a minute or two, listening for some sign of life in the interior of the cabin. No voice reached me—no sound of any one stirring! Perhaps the cabin was empty! Not untenanted, since I could perceive the signs of occupation in some articles of rude furniture visible inside the doorway. Perhaps the inmates had gone eut fora moment and might be in the woods near at hand. I looked around the clearing and over the fence into the forest beyond. Noone to be seen! no one to be heard! Without the cabin, as within, reigned a profound silence, Nota living thing in sight, save the black vultures, a score of which, perched on the dead-woods overhead and fetid as their food, were infecting the air with their carrion odor. I had no desire to appear rude. I already regret- ted having leaped my horse over the -bars. Even that might be regarded as rather a brusque method ef*approach to a private dwelling; but 1 was in hopes it would not be noticed, since » there 2 4p gebeg to be no one who had witnessed it, I coughed and made other noises, with like unfruitful result. My demonstrations were either not heard, or, if heard, unheeded. ‘‘Certainly,’’ thought I, “if there be any one in the house, they must not only hear, but see me,’ for although there was no window, [ could perceive that the logs were but poorly chinked, and from within the house the whole clearing must have been in sight. Nay, more: the interior itself was visible from without—at least the greater part of it—and while making this observation, I fancied I I could trace the outlines of a human figure through the in- terstices of the logs! I became convinced it was a human figure, and furthermore, the apere of a por! lt was odd he had not heard me! as he aslee No, that could not be, from the attitude in which : ‘was. He appeared to be seated in a chair, but with his body erect and his head held aloft. In such po- sition he could scarcely be asleep. After making this reflection, and feeling a little provoked by the inexplicable somnolency of the owner of the cabin, { determined to try whether my voice might not rouse him. ‘‘ Ho, house theye!"’ I shouted, though not loudly; **ho! holloa! any one within?” Again the figure moved, but stirred not from the seat! I repeated both my summons and query—this time in still a louder and more commanding tone; and this time [ obtained a response. ‘Who air you?’ came a voice through the inter- stices of the logs—a voice that more resembled the growl of a bear than the articulation of a human throat. ‘‘Who air you?” repeated the voice, while at the same time I could perceive the figure risipg from the chair. I made no answer to the rough query. I saw that my lasteummons had been sufficient. I could hear the hewn floor-planks cracking under a heavy boot, and knew from this that my questioner was passing toward the door. Tn another instant he stood in the doorway—his body filling it from side to side—from head to stoop. A fearful-looking man was before me. A man of gigantic stature, with a beard reaching to the sec- end button of bis coat, and above it a face not to be looked upon without a sensation of terror: a countenance expressive of determined courage, but at the same time of ferocity, untempered by any trace of a softer emotion. A shaggy sand-colored heard, slightly grizzled; eyebrows like a chevau r-de- J rise of hogs’ bristles; eyes of a geeenish-gray, with a broad livid scar across the left cheek, were com- ponent parts in producing this expression, while a red cotton kerenief, wound turban-like around the head and puiled low down in front, rendered it more palpable and pronounced, A loose coat of thick vreon blanket, somewhat faded and worn, added to the colossal appearance of the man, w hile a red fiannel shirt served him for a vest. His large limbs were inserted in pantaloons of blue Kentucky jeans cloth; but these were scarcely visi- ble, hidden by the skirt of the ample blanket-coat that draped down below the tops of a pair of rough horseskin boots reaching above the knee, and into which the trowsers had been tucked. The face of the man was a singular picture; the colossal stature rendered it more striking; the cos- tume corresponded; and all were in keeping with the rude manner of my reception. It was idle to ask the question. From the descrip- tion given me by the young backwoodsman, I knew the man before me to to Hickman Holt the squatter. CHAPTER XIU. A ROUGH RECEPTION. lor fashion’ s sake, I was about to utter the usual form " Mr. Holt, I presume?” But the opportunity was not allowed me. No sooner had the squatter appeared in his doorway than he followed up his uncourteous interrogatory Lap a series of others, couched in language equally rude = What's all this muss about? Durn y’ur stinkin’ pe who air ye? an’ what air ye arter?”’ wish to see Mr. Holt,” Il replied, struggling hard to Beat my temper “Ye wish to see Mister Holt? Holt “bout hyur.”’ ‘*Didn’t ye hear me?” ‘‘Do I understand you to say that Hickman Holt does not live here?” bs imi u understan’ me to say no sic h thing. Ef ’t’s Hick Molt ye mean, he diz live hyur.”’ ‘* Hick Holt—yes, that is the name.’ “Wall, what o't ef’ b is?”’ —- wish to see him.” pilin a 0 hyur, stranger!’’ and the words were ac- mpanied by a significant look; *‘ ef y’ur’ the shar- ck Holt ain’t at home—ye understand me? he ain't at home.” The last phrase was rendered more emphatic by the speaker, as he uttered it, raising the of his blanket-coat and exhibiting a huge bowie-knife stuck through the waistband of his trowsers. I under- stood the hint eechipacer “Tam not the sheriff,” I answered in an assuring tone. oe Thur’s no Mister 1} _ The Wild I Wild Fruntress. ee I was in hopes of gaining favor by the declaration, for [ had already fancied that ay izarre reception mi ht be owing to some error of this kind. ‘“*T am not the sheriff,”’ I repeated ey! Arash a ‘An’ who air ye, an how—wi’ y’ur glitterin’ but- tons, an’ y’ur waist draw’d in like a skewered skunk?” This was intolerable: but remembering the advice I had received over night, [strove hard to keep down kM rising choler. name—”’ said I. on’t care a dog-gone for yur name: tell me yur bizness—that’s what I wanter know.’ “*T have already told you my business: see Mr. Holt—Hick Holt if you like.” * To see Hick Holt? Wal, ef that’ s all y ur bizness, you've see’d him; an’ now ye kin go. This was rather a literal interpretation of my de- mand; but, without permitting myself to be non- plused by it or paying any heed to the abrupt words of dismissal, [ replied, half-interrogatively: You, then, are ‘he? You are Hick Holt, f sup- ose?” “Who said I ain't? wi’ me?” The i ye the insulting tone in which it was uttered, the bull ying manner of the man—evidently relying upon his giant strength and formidable as- yect —were rapidly producing their effect upon me; yut in a manner quite contrary to that anticipated by Master Holt. It was no doubt his design to awe me; but helittle knew the man he had to deal with. Whether it might be caled courage or not, [ was just as reck- less of life as he. His dictatorial style was unendurable; and dis- carding all further prudential considerations, I re- solved to submit to it no longer. Before I could answer his question, however, he had repeated it in a still more peevish and impatient manner—with an additional epithet of insult. “ Wal, Mister Jay-bird, said he, ‘be quick "bout it! What d’ ye want w’ me?” “Tp the first place, Mr. Hickman Molt, IT want civil treatment from you; and secondly—’ I was not permitted to finish my speech. I was interrupted by an exclamation—a horrid oath— that came fiercely hissing from the lips of the squatter. ** Civil treetmint, i'deed! You're a putty fellur to talk o’ civil treetmint, arter jumpin’ y’ur hoss over a man’s fence, an’ ridin’ slap-jam inter his door, ‘ithout bein’ asked! Let me tell yer, Mister Gilt Buttons, I don’t ‘low any man—white, black, or In- jun—to enter my cl’arin’ ‘ithout fust knowin’ his reezun, Ye hear that, d’yer” * Your clearing! Are you sure it is yours?” The squatter turned red upon the instant. [ wish to Now then, what d’ye want tage may have been the passion that brought the color to his cheeks; but I could perceive that my words had produced another emotion in his mind, which added to the hideousness of the cast at that moment given to his features. ‘Not my cl’arin’!’’ he thundered, with the em- bellishment of another imprec ation — ‘not my cl’arin’! Show me the man who says it’s not!— show'’m to me! By the Almighty Etarnal, he won't say’t twice. ‘Have you purchased it?” ‘*Ne’era mind for that, mister; I've madeit: that’s my style Qo" purchase, an’ it'll stan’ good, I reck’n. Consarn y’ur skin! what hev you got to do wi't any- how?” This,” I replied, still struggling to keep calm, at the same time taking the title- code from my saddle- bags—“ this only, Mr. Holt. That your house stands upon Section No, 9; that I have bought that section from the United ‘States Gover nment; and must rare chee oe demand of you, either to use your pre- eo om right, or deliver the land over tome. Here is t A pt grant—you may examine it, if you feel so inclined.”’ An angry oath was the response, or rather a volley of oaths. “TI thort that wur y’ur bisness,”’ continued the ‘*T thort so; but jest this time you've kim upon a fool’s errand. Durn the government grant! durn your pre- emption right! an’ durn ur title- ‘rs too! I don’t valle them more’n them thur corn shucks—I don’t. ‘ve got my pre-emption dokyment inside hyur. I'll jest show ye that, mis- ter; an’ see how ye'll like it.” The speaker turned back into his cabin. end for a moment I lost sight of him. In another moment he reappeared in the doorway ; not with any papers in his hand—but, instead, a long rifle, that with its butt resting on the door- swearer, stoop, stood almost as high as himself? ow, Mister Turn-me-out!”’ said he, s ing ina satirical, triumphant tone, and raising the piece in front of him “ thur's my title—my préem ition right’s the right 0” the rifle. It’s clur enuff; ye'll ac- how ledge that, won't ye?” ro 2 replied, in a firm voice. “Ye won't? Look hyur, stranger! I’m in airnest, Look in my eye, an’ see if 1 ain't! I gi’ ye warnin’ then, that ef ye’re not out o’ this cl’arin’ in six jumps 0’ a squ'l, you'll niver go out o’ it a livin’ man. You see that ere stump? Its shadder’s jest a-creepin’ up to the house: the minnit that shadder touches the wall, Pil shoot you down, as sure’s my name's Hick Holt. Mind, I’ve gi'n ve warnin’!"" **And I give you warning, Mr. Holt, that I am pre- pared to defend myself; and if you miss, I shall show you no merey. If you are going to take the cowardly advantage of having the first shot, I have my advantage too. In self-defense I shall he ed fied in killing you; and if you fire at me, I shall cer. tainly do so. “B» warned! I never spare a coward!” “Coward!” exclaimed the colossus, with an im- precation that was horrib'e to hear. ** An’ how ef I don’t miss?” continued he, appar- ently calming his rage, and speaking with a sig- nificant sneer—intended to awe me by insinuating the certainty of his aim. ‘ How ef I don’t miss, Mister Popgun?”’ “You may, for all that. Don't be too sure of hit- ting—T ve been shot at before now.” You'll niver be shot at arter now, ’ceptin’ ye leave this cl’arin’. One crack from my gun'll enuff for ye, I reck’n.” eel | e my chance. If it should go against me, you won't ¢ by it. Remember, my good man, it’s not a duel we're fighting’ You have chosen to ® AA T_T CC attack me; and if I should fall in the affair, I’ve faith: enough m ‘the law to believe it will avenge me.’ ~. fancied that my speech produced some effect n the fellow; and, seeing that he remained silent, oliowed it up by words of <imilar import: ** Tf it be my fate to fall, I leave behind me friends who will inquire into my death. Trust me, they will do so! If I kill you it will be but justifiable homicide, and will be so adjudged; while your kill- ing me will be Po Spec in a diffe re nt light: it will be pronounced muider I gave full emphasis to the last word. On hearing it my antagonist showed signs of emo- tion. I fancied 1 saw him tremble, and turn slightly pale! With an unstead eae he replied: ‘Murder? No, no; I’ve gin ye warnin’ to’go. Ye've time enuff yet to nite yerself. Git out o’ the cl ar in’, and thur'll be no harm done ye!”’ “T shall not go out of the clearing, “until you've acknowledged my c ‘laim.’ ‘‘Then you'll ne’er go out o’ it alive—I sw’ar! niver?’’ ‘You are determinéd, then, to be my murderer?” I again pronounced the word in the most em- phatic tone. I saw that it affected him in some singular way; whether through a fear of conse- quences; or that there still lingered in his heart some speck of humanity; or perhaps—but least pos- sible of all he was beginning to be ashamed of his foul play. By which of all these three motives, or by what other inspired, I could not guess; but "he seemed to cower under the imputation. ‘*Murderer!’* echoed he, after a moment of appa- rent reflection. ** No, no; it’s bad enuf to hev the blame o’ that, ‘ithout bein’ guilty o’t. I ain’t agwine to minier Ye; but I ain't agwine neyther to let ye go. I mout ’a’ did so a minnit agone, but ye ‘ve lost yur chance, Ye’ve called me a coward ; an’ by the Etarnal! no man ‘Il say that w or do’ Hick Holt, an’ live to boast o’t. No, mister, ye’ ve got to die; an’ ye may get y ‘urself’ ready for’t ’s soon’s ye like. Coward indeed!” ‘*T repeat it—your act is cowardly.” ‘What act?” “Your unprovoked attack upon me—especially sinee it gives you the first shot. What if I were te shoot youdown now? With the pistol you see in my holster here, I could send six bullets through our hody before you could bring your rifle to your shou! - What would you call that? Sheer cowardice, and murder too?” CHAPTER XIV. A DUEL WITHOUT SECONDS. Wuiie I was speaking, I saw a change pass over the countenance of my gigantic antagonist—as if come new resolve was forming in his mind, that af- fected the programme he had already traced out. Was it possible I had touched him ona point of hon- ort It was this purpose I desired to effect; and, though hopeless it might appear, I continued the only kind of appeal that, with such a spirit, seemed to promise any chance of srccess, * You dare not play fair in this game,” I said ban- teringly. “ You are a cowar l, and would murder me. You want the first shot: you know you do,” ‘“ Tt's a lie!’ cried the colossus, raising himself te his full hight, and assuming an air of chivalric grandeur I could not have deemed him capable of: ‘it’s a lie! IT don’t wish to murder ye; an’ I don't want the first shot neyther.”’ * How?”’ “TT hain’t so little confidence in my shootin’ as to care for you an’ y'ur cimeraek gun! Nor is Hick Holt in such consate wi’ his life eyther, that he’s afeerd to risk it. Tho’ ye*air a stuck- “up critter, | won't gi’ ye the op rtunity to kuse me © foul play. Thur’s grit in ye, and seein’ that’s mace me change m mind.’ “What!” IT exclaimed, taken by surprise at the speech, and fancying it me mised an end to our Gtercation! “vou have changed your mind? You mean to _ justly then?” “]T mean it’shal be a fuir stan’ -upfight atween us.” “Oh! a duel?” ‘Duel, or whatever else ye may call it, mister.” ‘“Taeree tothat. But how about seconds?” “D’ye think two men can’t fight fair ‘ithout sec- onds? Ye see yander s hs standin’ nigh the bars?” ‘Yes; I see it.” “Wal, mister, thur you'll take y’ur stand—a-hine, or a-front 0 it, whichsomever ye like best. H hy this other ‘un, ‘clost by the crib —thur'll be my tp Thur's twenty Bh a-tween ’em, I reck’n. Is that ‘ur “Tt will do as well as any other,” I replied me- chanically, still under the influence of surprise, not unmingled with a seutiment of admiration. we agp then! Take your pouch an’ flask along e; ye Seel’ve got myen. One shot at ye anil I rol Sade, I reck’n. But ef thur shed be a miss, Jook out for eta loadin’, an’ mind, mister... thur's one o’ us’ll niver leave this cl’arin’ alive.” ‘* About the first shot? Who is to give the signal?” ‘ ay e gl 0’ that a’ready. It'll be all right, I promise ye “In what way can you arrange it?” “This way. Thur’s a hunk 0’ deer-meat in the house: I mean to fetch that out and chuck it over thur, into middle o’ the cl’arin’. Ye see them buz- zarts up thur on the dead-w oods?” I nodded in the affirmative. ‘* Wal. it won't be long afore one or other o’ them flops down to the meat; an’ the first oem that takes wing, that’ll be the signal, That's fair enuf, I re ck’ nn?’ “Porfectly fair,” I replied, stillspeaking mechani- cally, for the very justuess of the proposal rendered my astonishment continuous. i was something more than astonished at the al- tered demeanor of the man. He was fast disarming me. His unexpected behavior had subdued oy ire; and, all consideration of consequences apart, ao felt a complete disinclination for the combat! it too late to stay our idle strife? Such was ay re flection the moment after; and, with an effort con- quering. my hk ride, I gave words to the thought. te, mister! *twon’t do now,”’ was the re Bs pacific ch, ‘And why not?” | continued to vit was thewa 4 ne Any chagrin, I began to —* that it ort der. would it not be; r eck'n; oeye) * ‘ <€om (E = XK,