Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 229 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

a ES Per EN that crowd draw’d, an’ tole us ter wait fur a new deal. We waited; fur Ante Sam means Captain Cutsleeve. So the doctor whispered, and one of the brothers, as he picked up the utensil, responded rt from ther word go, an’ yer tole us ter | in the same tone: p ther e when he come in.” ‘‘And what are you going to do about it now?’ “Shute him early in the mornin’ an’ skip back to ther Bar—er elsewhere, Mebbe, though, you ean put us on a better lay-out.” The doctor gave a sharp laugh. : ““T might have known you would be afraid to do your work with the Gulch looking at. you. ell, I’ve done the best part of the job, and all you have to do isto finish cleaning it up. The little sport is here, but he won’t mop any more floors up. aay him out-and plant him.” “Whar is he Sam Peters started, and looked around as though he was by no means certain of the doc- tor’s meaning, or pleased with the work hinted ab. ‘There he is. Shove that stuff aside and you will see the prettiest little corpse you ever laid eyeson. Don’t fool away your time either, or you will have half of Glory Gulch here assist- meat the obsequies. Do you hear me?” e doctor pointed to a large box at the side of the room, that was apparently full of wood ready for use in the stove. At the sharp com- mand the three moved toward it, and one of the brothers jerked off the split wood, while the other two stood in an attitude that betokened that they were not altogether satisfied with what might follow. When the fagots had been cast aside, and the doctor coolly held the lamp down, Sam Peters shouted back: “Why, blame my top-knot, but ther leetle cuss ar’ alive /” ‘‘Of course he is. What do you eppoge I sent for you for? He’s tied, gagged and alto- gether helpless, or I wouldn’t trust him with you. Take him out somewhere’ to the edge of town, cut his throat, and plant him. Then steer for home. ‘* We'd better take box an’ all, then. Put er lid ov some kind over it, an’ ef we meet an sport he can’t tell what ther racketar’, Ef it warn’t fur ther size of ther holes it would be jist ez safe ter put him inso. He won’t hev time ter think over ther bad men ov Glory Gulch, an’ it would save spatterin’ things ’round.” ‘A good idea,” responded the doctor, coldly. ‘* And yet Id like to have a word with him be- fore the funeral. It may be wasting valuable time; but it’s worth the chance. Stand back a moment while I give him a last opportunity.” He waved the three men back and stooped over the edge of the box. “There is no further use of disguise. I recog- nized you the moment I set eyes on you, but I thought perhaps I might befool your sharp eyes once more. Atwinkle in them gave you away. With you living, there is always danger to me, unless—” He paused and looked down into the box, holding the lamp so that its beams could play over the face of Touch-Me-Not. In the eyes of the little sport there was a wolfish glitter, that ve token that he would think more than once cetera coming to terms. Even the contempla- tion of certain death could neither make him cringe nor winoe, . : “ Exactly, my friend. You think if you could get out and at me? [ll admit that. But you played on my nerve and trusted your eye- sight once too often. ‘**T can’t be mistaken in the man, th how you come to be living or where you got the vial of eternal youth, is more than I can make out. “Granted that I went back on you once. I had my reasons, as you know, but those reasons have vanished—years All you have to do is to forget the past a give me your band for the future. That never in times gone by, and lll risk all I’m worth on it now. = ‘ you drew oor pile and spent it long ago, but I'll forgive you that if you can tell me whee’ Gun- nison’s papers are. You know; and I could make a fortune out of them, into my game, nod your head free man. The doctor spoke incool, methodical tones, If anything could be told from the sound ofa thous If you'll come wa you area voice, low it was, he was in most sober, truthful earnest. No answe motion came from the little sport. His h lay in its uneasy position as still as though it were of carved marble. “You helped hurt me once—I’m not sure but what you were helping to knot a rope around my neck—but I swear I hate to lose you. It’s the last offer. What do you say?” The shiniog eyes stared full in the doctor’s face, and in them was a red-hot blaze of anger. No sign of —_ was there there.” “Then, die. three reasons you are triply Carry him off.” The three men advanced, and the cover was tacked loosely on the box. Then Sam Poters, unaided, slung it over his shoulder and trudged out of the rear door. “You'll find a spade just outside; bury him deep.” “You bet.” CHAPTER XX. HOW THE SURE THING WORKED. THERE could be no question but that Dr. Cof- fin was thoroughly in earnest. If he was not, when he turned Touch-Me-Not over to the tender mercies of the three men who hated him worse than death it was certain that his jest would have a deadly ending. Every ‘twinge in their bruises called ont for revenge; and the sight of each other’s faces was a re- minder of the black humiliation that had been put on them. Of course if was a risk; yet not as much as might at first sight appear. As Glory Gulch, after the manner of the majority of nrining camps, was mostly com- posed of the long, straggling main street, from the rear of Coffin’s house it was almost certain that they could make an unobserved retreat, and within a few hundred yards there were plenty of gashes and prospecting-holes into one of which the man could be pped, and never found. Even if the very worst happened and some- one met them and discovered the nature of their load the matter could be passed off asa brutal joke; and until Touch-Me-Not could get at his weapons there would be no one to execute jus- tice. At any rate, for its weight Sam Peters never carried a lighter load. For some little distance they kept perfect silence. When the murmur of the town had died away behind them, and there seemed little danger of any one overhearing, the brother with the shovel spoke: “It’s a dog-rotted shame that we’ve got ter do this hyar thing in the dark, Ther Gulch "ll never know how we got even.” ** Thet’s so; but then ther Gulch ’ll hev no call fur gettin’ even with us, Ef thar’s ary a man ez’ll be axed ter show ther size of his hand it'll be ther populer Doctur Sylvanus Coffin—an’ who’s goin’ ter b’lieve sich nonsense about him? rhey ae us out on this hyar job, an’ thar’s nothin’ kin ever rub it out that it war too hefty er contrack for us ter carry. Glory Gulch kin think what it dog-gone chooses; but. whar’s our reputation with ther boys? Blame me ef, fur half er cent, I wouldn’t turn him loose, jist ter begin ther hull thing over ag’in on ther square.” *‘Jist try it. Yer know whar ye’d stan’ by ter-morrer night?” “In course; *thout I’d buck ag’in’ ther hull gang. No. it’s got ter be did; but it’s er cus- sed pity that ther’s so little comfort in sich er might purty arrangement, I guess this hyar’s about the spot we’re aimin’ at. ** Ye’r’ too lazy fur a stroke ov honest work,” answered Sam, slumping down the box, with a wane ‘Gimme ther spade, an’ Ill take Reer ov ther sand. You kin try your hand at the hard-pan when we git to it,” ‘An’ it mout be er oon plan ter put er wy &, ap Dang all, he | sheuld get out e er ty queer story. “Oh, dry up an’ go ter work,” said the third, as he seated himself on the box. “I don’t half b’lieve he’s livin’. Coffin slipped his wind an’ put him in hyar ter try yer sand. Yer make more fuss about berryin’ er dead gerloot than ef ye’d never see’d a stiff. Fix up yer hole, an’ dump him in, Then we'll light out ov vite We’s gettin’ too well knowd hyar, any- ow. “‘Thar’s jist erbout hole enuf now ef it war straightened out. About how long is ther cussed box?” The two stood in a hole which they were vigorously enlarging. The third rese np, took the spade, and made a rude mea: urement. ‘Two foot, seventeen inches, ther length ov ther hammer handle, an’ so much!” said Sam, with a rough attempt at a joke. And then, as the three bent over the com- pleted grave, there wasa tearing sound, as the cover flew off and Touch-Me-Not flew out. It might have been a satisfaction to explain; but time was precious. What difference to the three to know that no one man could draw a knot. that would bind Touch-Me-Not’s wrists, and that he bad been quietly biding his chances. As he leaped out he caught up his intended coffin, and swinging it over his shoulder, brought it down on the nearest head, with a force that split the bottom into kindling wood, Reve the swing, the remnants leveled a second, and at thet Touch-Me-Not sprung, striking as he came, “TI thought I’d use the irons the next time: but the doctor saved your bacon. Three times in one night, If they call you bruisers, a regular hting man here would be a perfect storm. a, ta! When you find me again TH be trimmed and heeled.” Without ehpoe. to see the result of his blows—he erally knew how hard he pent them—the little sport took te his heels, leavin the three brothers to gather themselves up a leisure, and swear at large. There never was a more ridiculous fiasco than* this same | igh- ’ — i 13 a game that came to such an unexpeeted en ; we Fant, care to kill them,” soliloquized Touch-Me-Not, as he darted away into the dark ness, ‘‘ but I suppose I'll have to do it. I can’t keep this thing going forever, and this was about as narrow a squeak as I ever had. If that scratch on the back of my bead had gone a little deeper it would have saved me lots of trouble, ’ve no doubt. I’ve got my Derringers yt, but that infernal doctor has my revolvers. } 1 call bis band before morning, or I’m a? Dutchman.” To reach the Gulch the rt was compelled to make quite a circuit, and to move cautious)y lest he should drop into some hidden pitfall, that would swallow him up as completely asthe grave would:have done which he so narrowly ese” ped, Yet in a shorter time than one would have deemed possible he stood once more at the sa- loon door of Johnny Goodman's ranch, He halted a moment, just on entranee, and gave a sharp glance around, for he had done énough at and around Glory Gulch to make him plenty of enemies, and in spite of his reckless courage he was not at all anxious to throw away his life. Although the hour was late the room seemed almost as full as when he left it, There were men at the bar, men at the tables—for at Jobn- ny Goodman's short cards flourished vigorously as the night advanced—and men scattered over the floor. But above the rest he heard a hoarse voice, that sounded very familiar, and it was mention- ing his own name, , ‘“*Yes-sir-ree, be’s a sport on wheels, an’ ez squar’ ez they make ’em. Ther man ez sez Tetch-Me Not ain’t good medicine hez got ter tackle me, an’I tell yer I ain’t no slouch me- self. Irish Jimmy seen ther las’ round an’ them hoofed it back ter Rat Trap. He hez ther mail- bag bisself. An’ ther leetle with him war a trump, an’ don’t yer furgit it. So he’s been at work hyar? Qh, he’s a tearer; an’ him an’ me could run a city. Whar is ther leetle sharp? Me an’ Huckleberry ez jist a-dyin’ ter see him; ain’t we, Huckleberry?” * You bet,” cathe the customary choras. Tom Serr and his pard had anticipated the time of their arrival, and as usual the Death- Shot of Shasta, as be delighted to call himself, was blowing his own horn. “Here's your chance, then,” quietly inter— fered Touch-Me-Not, “ for I’m ’round and kick-. ; ing. I’ve lost one pard since I’ve been here, but I’ve a call to make and I need another. If you don’t mind being a little conspicuous, I ean vouch for the safety of the effair.” “If you've lost Hewlin’ Billy,” strnck in Goodman, “ you'll find him in your reom. TP beard an awful snorin’ thar an’ jist ed in. Ther winder war open an’ he war layin’ on ther bed, on ther broad ov his back, with ther empty bottle in his hand, He ain’t druvk—forty-rod strychnine can’t throw bim—but ef ary man kin wake him afore mornin’ I'l! stand drinks fury ther town.” ‘* Exactly,” answered Touch Me-Not. “That’s his weakness.” “Put it thar, pard, put it thar. Me an? Huckleberry is with yer, even ef it’s er waltzup ther flume,* Gouger broke in. He had no in- terest in Howlin’ Pilly. ‘*T should smile,” came the echo from Huckle- es “Thén come on. You've only to see fair play,. and keep out of the range of bullets.” Together the three went out, and steered) straight for Dr. Coffin’s shanty. CHAPTER XXL A RESURRECTED SHARP. Dr. CoFFIN seemed to be a man of many. vis~ itors, both professionally and otherwise. Not half an hour after he had sent Touch Me-Not out: in charge of the three toughs, without any warning the door flew cpen, and the womam who had come too late for the due] stepped into the room. Her eyes were glittering, and her face worea flushed, excited Jook. ‘‘ What inferna) plot bave yon been building up against me and mine? Hartford Blaine bas been your friend since the moment when, foot- sore and ragged, you struck this camp; and now you Rave Jeft him to craw] into seme hole in the rocks to die like a dog, while you and your cow- ardly aid*skulk beck under cover of the night and claim ignorance of the whole affair. You call yourself aman. Bah! you are a treaeher- ous, slimy, crawling snake!” The woman the words out with a venom that told how muck she was in earnest; but the ; e doctor was neither sppalled nor moved. looked up into the face that might have belonged a fiend, and a scornful sneer eurled © ps. “Yew say? The trewth air yew want all the big keards bb own band. yew see a pardner hes bi cine! -9 ew git up an’ rile. Hart Blaine will be all right—when I git my eend level.” ‘Where is he now, villain? I trust yeu no. longer, There may be Comicbooksreo: Ss SS SS : — — mee ~~! { SL —— ae —_-—-—- SST SS ie —— = —— —— meee = =)