Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 241 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

a - a - —— ee The room was of moderate size, dark and | have cast a flood of light upon the affair at the gloomy, though the afternoon sun was blazing | time.” ghtly without. The only visible opening in ‘* Tell me—what you know!” the four walls, was the doorway through which ‘*T believe something was said about refresh- the two men had entered. The other three | ments,” quietly uttered Bloodgood, ‘“ Oblige sides were piled up with books and page from | me by ringing—thanks!” floor to ceiling, protected from the dust by The ranchero touched the bell with a trem- heavy curtains of dark purple stuff, running on | bling band, and as Pedro reappeared, he bade brass rods. Light and fresh air were admitted | him bring liquor and cigars, 6 was promptly through a sky ight in the ceiling, formed of | obeyed, though the pompous darky held his nose thin, but stiff iron slats, so arranged that they | high in the air and made a wide circuit of the could be closed by means of a cord and pul- | black-bearded stranger before placing the tray leys. upon the table. “‘ And this is where you burrow, is it”’ added | _ ‘‘ Now make yourself scarce, Sambo,” said Bloodgood, before the ranchero could either | Bloodgood, showing his teeth; ‘‘and if t catch deny or assent to his former speech. ‘‘ Well, | you with your ears at the keyhole, Ill pin them no wonder you look like an animated mum- qast to the door with a toothpick—you hear?” 43 The utterly disgusted negro beat a hasty re- treat, muttering anything but compliments, and when the door closed with a ‘* wooden damn,” Bloodgood poured out a glass of brandy and swallowed it at a gulp, refilling and sipping more leisurely as he spoke again: ‘“*Some twenty years ago, Pierre Debonay, you owned a fair plantation in Georgia, near what was once the Cherokee nation, though, as a nation, they had long been removed. Still, will put us more at ease—break the ice of for- | there were some few of the race—for the most mality,asit were. I’m afraid that I have some | part with white blood in their veins—remaining words to utter that will cut you still deeper—” in the country. Among them was a man popu- a ‘Was it to utter this speech that you de- manded a private interview with me, Mr. Bloodgood?” a little sharply uttered the ranchero, his pe cheeks flushing, his dark eyes beginning to sparkle with more than aver- sion. ‘Not precisely,” easily replied Bloodgood. ** The words slipped out almost before I knew it; but 1’m not sorry that such is the case. It ‘Then, if you are a wise man, you will leave | larly known as Martin, the Swamp-Fox. I see them unuttered, Mr. Bloodgood,” said Pierre | you have not entirely forgotten him.” Debonay, with unusual rapidity, ‘‘ You,have| Pierre Debonay had all this time been fight- been of service to my children this ar as they | ing against the sudden and unwonted weakness tell me, and I donot wish to pay a debt of that | which he had displayed on having this old, yet sort—” | hardly cicatrized, wound so rudely torn open, Bloodgood yawned, without making theslight- | and now bad regained his customary coolness in est pretense of concealing it, and Debonay rose | a great measure. half-erec ‘IT remember the fellow; a hang-dog rascal, with the flush of anger deepening | on his thin cheek, pausing from very amaze- | a thief, as proven; a murderer, as suspected th ment as Bloodgood struck the bell sharply, | with more than Nain ed of the suposition aii my > being truth,” he said, calmly; then adding with ‘*My dear fellow, never exert yourself un-| sharpness: ‘* Was he any relation of yours?” necessarily, especially when you have a score of a lazy servants, more or less, whom you pay handsomely for saving you that trouble. Come in, you ebony child of Satan!” he cried sharply as the door opened and a tall negro stood at the threshold. ‘‘ Bring some liquor and cigars— the best you’ve got in the house—and spur your legs out of that graveyard amble into decent speed. With his nose still higher in the air, his scorn too utter for ordinary expression, the servant gozed into the flushed countenance of his mas- ter, who visibly hesitated, then said: ** You can go, Pedro. This—person—forgets himself, and fancied he was in a groggery. Close the door.” Pedro vanished, showing his white teeth in. a grin of huge deligbt at the manner in which the ranchero had avenged the monstrous insult offered his dignity by this black-bearded stranger. , nly my father,” was the cool reply, as Bloodgood poured out a fresh glass of liquor, and lighted a cigar, gazin ag si through the smoke into the pale face of his host. ** You were wise in doubting my reception of any communication coming from your lips. Your father was a contemptible rascal, whom I flogged with my own hands, and I have an impression that l’ll have to serve his son after the same fashion, unless he takes himself off in— Bloodgood, still smiling, suddenly showed the muzzle of a revolver above the table, as he spoke: “T don’t doubt your will, my dear sir, but I do your ability to carry out that partially ut- tered threat. Keep your seat, or I'll make business for the undertaker!” he hissed, his eyes glittering dangerously. Pierre Debonay smiled coldly, and his voice was calm and even asever, when he spoke: Fred Bloodgood leaned back in his chair, “Were you to shoot, it would kill at both laughing sonny ends, and 1 am not afraid of your running that ‘* You do the act grandly, my dear fellow, | risk. You are a scoundrel, like that half-breed but you are making yourself unnecessary trouble. Oblige me by ringing for that nigger, and when he comes, please duplicate my order.” Pierre Debonay stared at the speaker in rowing astonishment. His eyes were clear, is face was not that of a drunken man, nor did be look at all like an insane person; yet one or the other he surely must be! ‘* You’re way off the right track, old boy,” and Bloodgood leaned indolently over the little table between them. ‘* The fact is, ’ve gota long story to tell, and my ride has filled my throat so full of the dust and sand of this cursed country, that I shall have to irrigate frequently or injure my sweet voice, all the nigger back, please.” ‘‘ If I do, it will be to order him to kick you out of the building for an inso'ent scoundrel!” flashed the ranchero, leaping to his feet with clinched fists. : : Bloodgood raised his hand, lazily waving him back. ‘‘ Keep your seat, I beg of you, Mr. Debonay,” he drawled, then with a startling change of tone and appearance, he uttered harshly: ‘‘ Down, I say, or Pil take my departure without proving to you how blackly old Juno lied to you the day hare only son and heir, Lucien Debonay, was 08 Pierre Debonay staggered before this sharp sentence as though be had been dealt u severe blow fullin the face. His lips parted, but no sound issue¢ therefrom, thou in his throat worked visibly and painfully. He sunk back into his chair, while Fred Bloodgood once more assumed the air of a polished gentleman as he spoke again: ot I humbly beg your pardon, Mr, Debonay, for my harshness, but I saw that you had taken an unreasonable dislike to me from the outset, and I thought you would be all the better for a little lesson of this sort.” K ‘What do you know of—of—” faltered the phe 25m his voice failing him as he strove to conclude the query. ‘* Of the toes of Cott son?” interposed Blood- good. ‘‘Everything. More than you ever sus- pected—far more than old Juno knew, though she kept back more than one fact which might dog, your father, but I’m just in the mood now to humor you for a bit. Goon, Tell the cun- ning tissue of lies which I am sure you have come here to pour into my ears, no doubt think- ing [ would pay you well—and so I will: be- stow upon you such a rich reward that you'll never feel the need of more, in this world!” ‘Talk is cheap, but it takes money to bu land. And I’m open to lay odds that when have unfolded my budget, you will not only beg my pardon for these insults, but will what I demand in return for my trouble, with- out a murmur,” Pierre Debonay leaned back in his chair, a cold smile on his thin lips, as though scorning to make reply. “You were counted a very rich man in those days, and in that rather primitive region,” continued Bloodgood, speak rapidly, as though resolved to lose no more time in idle bickerings. ‘‘ You were young, well fixed, had a lovely wife, and a most promising heir to your wide estates in the baby Lucien. But with all this, you was not wholly happy. And the cause of your discontent, lay in the shape of a few acres of land and a humble log cabin nestling upon if, owned by a half-breed Chero- kee, Martin, the Swamp-F'cx. ‘‘He and his had been located there, long be- fore you came into possession.” Pierre Debonay interrupted him coldly. “‘T admit all this, Pray skip the prelimina- ries, Your company is not so agreeable that I care to have it unnecessarily prolonged.” ‘“T prefer telling the story after my own fashion. Your likes or dislikes matter little to me. I have taken up the affair as a pure mat- ter of business, but I warn you that with every insulting speech from your lips, Lam adding to the sum total which you shall pay before I quit ou,” me So much the worse for your back,” was the swift retort. ‘I trust your constitution is a strong one, for I hardly care to go to the ex- pense of a funeral, and I have too many valu- able hosnds running loose to cast your carcass aside, without some such precaution.” regen No showed his teeth in a sickly smile, but made no direct reply to this biting taunt. rele ee I A TL eeeeeeEeEeEe—eGSGg0u0_Qe Spitfire Saul, King of the Rustlers. m/s i ye id “These few acres with the ugly cabin, proved an eyesore to you, for they were in full view of your front door, and cut off a portion of your view down the river. With ttat bit of land, you believed you would have nothing left to wish for, and you tried to buy it from old Mar- tin. But the foolish fellow refused to sell. He made a living by bunting and fishing, and had little need for cash, bis wants were so simple. Then you tried to scare him away, but with no better success. The blood of the old Indian chiefs flowed strongly in his veins, aad he laughed at your threats. Poor old fool! He might have known that you would prove too much for him in the end, with your wealth and hi grand friends who looked down in scorn on he dirty, lazy, thieving balf-breed. “*One day you laid a charge against bim of theft, and proved your accusation, to the satis- faction of the man before whom you had the poor devil dragged. Martin was found guilty and sentenced to fine and imprisonment. You ite sebes in his ear that you would get him his liberty, provided he would sell his cabin rian land to you; but he laughed in your ace. **He went to jail, but he did not stay there long. Just how he contrived to escape, no man save himself could ever tell; but escape he did, and one afternoon be came upon your lady wife as she was strolling through the woods, and so terrified her that she screamed with affright, though old Martin to the day of his death solemnly declared that he meant her no harm, that he said nothing to frighten or anger her. “Unfortunately for him, her screams were heard, and beiore he could either quiet her, or remove her foolish alarm, you and some of your friends came upon the scene. You were all armed, for you had been out shooting, and seeing the old half-breed holding the screaming woman, you doubtless believed he was crimin- ally assaulting her; you see I give you the ben- efit of the doubt.” As though his throat needed moistening after such rapi ech, Fred Bloodgood paused for another drink, keenly eying the ranchero, who sat coldly impassive, like one who has made up his mind to endure the inevitable. “Of all the party, you alone dared risk a shot, lest the fine lady receive what was meant for the half-breed. Your aim was true, and with a gasping cry, Martin, the Swamp-Fox released your wife, flung aloft bis arms, stag- gered back and fell to the ground like a dead man, with the track of your bullet across his temples. ** At first you did not notice him further, all your attention being given to the woman, who was hysterically crying and sobbing. You questioned her, and she—either innocently be- heving or maliciously perverting the truth tbrough a longing for revenge on. the wretch who had dared frighten her—said that Martin had fearfully and shamefully insulted her. “The old man recovered his senses st fficient- ly to overhear and deny this charge, but you would not listen to him. You and your friends seized and bound him to the nearest tree-trunk, tearing the rags from his back; and then, with your own hands you flogged the r wretch until he could bear no more—until he fainted from pain and loss of blood, though not a moan, not a cry for mercy escaped his lips—until you believed you had killed him! “Even though you thought his spirit fled, your hatred was not satisfied, and you would not unbind him, but swore that he should re- main there bound until the wolves and buzzards had picked his bones clean, as a warning for other rascals of his class. And he still hung there, kept from dropping into the pool of blood which had run down his limbs to the ground, only by the throngs which passed around his carcass. ‘* But for once you were overreached, Mar- tin the Swamp-Fox was not dead. He was to live on for vengeance, though you never after that day laid eyes on his face. ‘*Who set him free, I never found ont for cer- tain. He kept the story of that day close locked in his own bosom, until the day of his death. But I more than suspect that it was Juno, the nurse whom you had chosen as special guard to your son and heir. After events seemed to indicate this. . “ For nearly a year, after that day, you lived on in peace and contentment, for at last you had gained your end. You hunted around un- til you found several trifling debts which the old half-breed owed, and bought them up. No rson could, or would, tell where the old fel- ow had gone to. You kept the story of that tragedy in the woods a close secret, you and the friends who were with you, though the mysteri- ous disappearance of what you firmly believed was @ corpse, gave you no little perplexity. “The little property was advertised to be sold for debt, and when the day came, you were the purchaser at a trifling sum, for your wishes were well-known, and no man would bid in op- position. The money was paid to me—then a gawky stripling, ignorant and cowed—and | was politely given to understand that if 1 valued a whole skin, I had better levant. I obeyed. You burned down the cabin, and removed Comrebooks