Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 245 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

é —— -_-— = - — ing the mountain side, the morning after the event just related, paused on an elevated point, and audibly remarked that the Bar was a lovely place. After that he went on his way, entered the village, and made his way to a cabin near its center, He entered. On the rude couch lay a man of massive form. He was six feet in hight, broad-shouldered, and so finely proportioned from head to foot that he had none of that lankness usual to six-footers. cag it his magnificent physique, bis face was le, his eyes heavy, and it was plain he was ar from being a well man. He looked up with a smile when his visitor entered, however. “Hello!” he said, ‘so you're back, Daddy Gray?” ‘Yes, George,” replied the old man, in his usual gentle way. “‘I went up to etd own cabin last night, as you advised, and I slept so well I shall not need to sleep again this week—” ‘* Hol on thar, Daddy; jest you hol’on. Dye s’pose I’m gwine ter hev you wear out your ole buddy nussin’ me? Not while all Ramrod Bar stands'at my back. Ah! every man hyar is my friend, Daddy, an’ they’re ready ter chipin. I feel a good bit better this mornin’, an’ my con- stitution will pull me tbrougb. But, you, Daddy—you’re an ole man, an’ ef you do too much you'll lose yer buddy ez well ez your mind.” The sick man spoke with bluff kindness, and one would have said he was an honest, large- souled man, always ready to befriend the needy and deeply grateful for a favor received, ‘It is a sad thing to lose one’s mind, George,” sighed the old man. ‘You are right; but you know you hev piles o’ friends at Ramrod Bar. Now an’ then some skittish chap jokes you a leetle, but they means wal, Daddy.’ ** And you are the best of the lot. They show good judgment to call you Honest George.” ‘*T hope I desarve et, fur I intend ter do ther squar’ thing, Daddy. By ther way, I’ve sent ter arginny City fur a surgeon.” The old man held up both hands, ‘* A real surgeon, George?” ac Yes.” ‘‘ Why, that'll cost heaps of money, and—and I could nurse you, George.” ‘‘T want to get wal quick.” said the giant, a strange look creeping over his face. ‘‘Do yer hear me#—quick, Isay. I wish I was up now,” ** Nobody ’ll touch your mine, George.” “Hang the mine! that don’t worry me. I want to git wal fur vengeance! Do yer hear me!—fur vengeance, I say.” . Ab! yes; you’re thinking of Paul Pindar.” “So Iam, and ther thoughts er a-burnin’ in my brain; they burn worse than his bullet in my side. I hope I ain’t a hard man, Daddy, but down in ther gulch Square Rob—my brother —sleeps in death, an’ I’ve got a pill in my side. Ef Paul Pindar had shot us fa’r, I wouldn’t be ther man ter kick, but it was a coward’s work, He cheated; we accused him on’t, and then he shot us like the coward he was, without a chance fur our lives. D’ye think I'll b’ar that? D’ye take me fur a coward, Daddy? No, no; I sw’ar that I’ll foller him like a bloodhound an’ avenge ther murder o’ my brother!” Honest George poured forth the words with the utmost veherrence, and as, at the end, he lifted one hand, his shirt fell back from a hard brawny arm where lurked great physical strength. Meek Daddy Gray stood appalled at this men- tal storm, with no words of reply ready, and the giant continued: ‘You see’d ther man at Comet Camp looked so much like Paul Pindar, but warn’t didn’t you?” “Yes, I did, George.” «Was ther resemblance strikin’?” ‘‘Tt was very remarkable at first, but after a little while, and when he had said that he was Mr, Lincoln, the mine superintendent, I couldn’t see any likeness at all.” Honest George laughed aw ““Your crowd was blind, Daddy Gray, blind as bats, an’ you was all fooled, I tell ye Paul Pindar an’ Barranca Bill er one an’ ther same person. Ther dog put on airs an’ played bluff on ye, that was ali, but one o’ these days that game won’t work. I’m goin’ ter hev a who bim, surgeon who ‘ll set me fight on my pins, an’ then TU take ther track !” The giant fairly hissed the words, and Daddy Gray, who had known him as one of the kindest of men, put forth his hands in horror, “ George! George! what would you do?” “J’q kill Paul Pindar as he killed m brother, an’ I know whar ter look fur him, He is Barranca Bill! Oh! he can’t fool me ez he did Sam Soaper, an’ when I git thar—Daddy, do you see that arm?” onest George stretched out the member, all along which were visible the cords which were like knotted ropes, and near the shoulder a mass of muscle that was almost a deformity, but which merely showed the immense strength of its owner. “‘That’s me!” he said, with pardonable pride, eee Ce —EEE -_—- — —_— ** an’ ther instant I git on my ae Barranca Bill. When I find him, V’ll crush him—er-r-rush himas I would a p’izon snake!” He ground the words out between his teeth in a way which almost drove Daddy Gray wild, and his trembling old bands went up. in the air again; but just then the entrance of another miner put an end to the conversation. Daddy Gray shook his head slowly, ‘* Poor George is losing his head just as I have lost mine. I never heard him talk that way be- fore, and he was always so gentle. Ah! the death of Square Rob has turned bis head, | wonder if Barranca Bill is really Paul Pindar? I don’t know, but it’l] be a sad day for him when Honest George gets on his track.” Looking at the handsome giant on the bed, one could not doubt the truth of Daddy’s asser- tion, It was two hours later when Daddy Gray left the c»bin and began to ascend the mountain side to his own little home. It had been ar- ranged that he should watch that night with Honest George, and the miners had driven him away so that he might husband his strength. His destination was nearly reached when, as he was passing along at the foot of a cliff, he suddenly paused and stood staring in perplexity at a dark objeet in his very path. “A woman!” muttered the old man, ‘A woman! Why, who is it, and how came she here? Is she asleep? Ob! no, no; she fell off the rocks!” This decision was no sooner reached than he was down on his knees beside her. She lay ina heap, a shawl she bad worn nearly concealing her face, but with skillful hands Daddy Gray proceeded to act the part of a surgeon, Examination showed that she was young and good-looking, well dressed and refined of look, and, best of all, she still lived, and, though hav- ing a cut on the head of unpleasant extent, did not seem likely to die unless there was some in- ternal injury. Daddy Gray saw that good care was needed, and, raising her in his arms with the surprising strength we have once before noted in bim, he bore her to his cabin and to his own bed, Possessing a few simple remedies, he at once set to work to restore her to consciousness, but it proved to be a longer and harder task than he had expected. It was past noon when she finally opened her eyes, and Daddy’s heart sunk as he saw their wild light. He had before noticed signs of high fever, and it was plain that the trouble was so far advanced that she was not wholly in her right mind. ‘“ Who are you?” she peremptorily asked. * Nobody but old Daddy Gray,” he meekly said, ‘Gray? Gray? I don’t know you; I never saw you before. Are you one who c me over the mountain?’ **Oh! dear, no; J didn’t chase you. I would- n’t harm you anyway. I found you at the foot of a pile of rocks, over which I suppose you fell, and 1 brought you here. I am a friend,” The woman started up on her elbow. ‘**T see, I see!” she cried. ‘ Well, it’s good to have one friend, for all the rest are enemies, They chased me over the mountain and | ran— ran—until I fell over the cliff. Old man, swear to me that they shall not take me,” ** They shall not; no one shall touch you,” he soothingly said, ‘Beware of them, beware! They are cun- ning as serpents. Watch over me, or they’ll steal in and take me away.” ‘No, they shall not!” Daddy firmly said, “T’m old, but I can fight. And you—you— What did you say was your name?” She brushed her hand across her forehead. “IT don’t know, do you? Let me think! I had aname, but itis gone, Let me think! Ha! I think it was Agatha—Agatha—what was the rest? Bah! what does it matter? What's in a name? I wish I could lose mine and lose my- self. Old man, do you hear them?” “Whom, child?’ **My enemies.” ‘**'No; there is no one near except ourselves. Have no fear; I will watch over you and guard you. “Beware of them, for they are cunning as wolves. They will come creeping up to the door—creep—creep— Old man, what makes my head feel so queer?” ‘You need rest. Lie down on the pillow and keep very quiet, and you will soon be well.” He saw the fire of delirium in her eyes, but at the touch of his hand she grew quieter and drank the mixture he offered her without ques- tioning. His hand remained on her head, and with her eyes fixed on his, she sunk back and lay motion- less. He saw that he was exerting an influence over her troubled spirit, and he continued to caress her forehead and temples until her great eyes closed and she sunk into a composed slum- ie Then Daddy Gray started up and breathed a sigh which was almost a moan. ‘ What is the matter with me?’ he muttered. ““Why does my head feel so strange? What ig Barranca Bill, the Revolver Champion. ee ee ee Vl start’ fur : ee 4 there in tbe face of this gir] which makes my poor brain grasp again at the past# This girl formed a link in my old life—but, no; sheis herself young; itis but a resemblance, a decep- tion, a dream, I never saw her before. But the name she spoke—what of that? Agatha, Agatha! How it makes my head whirl! It connects with my past, and I feel that I ought to like her, just as I felt that I ought to hate Cephas Brown. Agatha! Ob! if 1 could only remember; but my head whirls—lam dizay !” He sunk into a chair and covered his face with bis hands, and the sunlight crept in through the sashless window and fell brightly on his gray head, and on the couch of the inyalid, im- partial with the strange couple, CHAPTER XX. GRAVEYARD GULCH. HORACE LINCOLN awaited the hour at which he was to meet Vivian Brown with ill-concealed impatience, all of which, thanks to the matters ® Merry Bill’s own mind, passed unno- iced, Whatever compunctions Horace had at first felt in regard to his course—and they were never large—bad entirely vanished before his golden dreams of the future; dreams in which he saw himself a rich man, able to shake the base dust of Nevada from bis lofty feet and seek more congenial fields in the East, He had skilJfully led Barranca Bill to speak of the Browns, and this confirmed Vivian's statement that her father was wealthy, so Hor- ace resolved to strain every nerve toward the one great object, In so doing, he was aware that be would have to steer his bark with wondrous skill to avoid the rocks which lined the channel; the lynchers might drop upon him, or his brother and Vivian discover his game, or the mysterious Agatha appear in a Banquo fashion; buat his later life had been full of risks taken and he would not hesitate. Consequently, as the hour of the meeting at Graveyard Guleh appeared, and he sat talking ony with his brother, he thought not of the rasca ity of the deception he was about to com- mit, but how he could best carry it through. Seen together, the resemblance between the brothers did not seem so remarkably strong; though the difference lay more in their manner than elsewhere, Barranca Bill had been a grave, earnest child, and he was a grave, earnest man, Uniformly kind and pleasant when well used, he was apt to fallinto a dry humor when happy, but even then his face remained grave. Horace, as we have seen, was a badly fright- ened man when he first appeared to William, driven by the lynchers, but with the imminent danger past he relapsed into gayety which seemed almost a mockery of his situation, and his careless laugh when his brotber mentioned the men shot at Ramrod Bar would have angered a less patient man than Barranca Bij], n order to get out and keep the appointment with Vivian, Horace had asked for a chance to, sleep alone, and having been assigned to just the chamber he wished, he made a pretense off retiring ear] y. | Ten minutes afterward his light was extin- guished, but, immediately after, he leaped from the window and started ata swinging pace to- ward Graveyard Gulch, _ Before the venture he bad told himself tha: if seen, it Would be easy enough to pass himself off for Barranca Bill, but his danger seemed ey increase at every step and, though well armed, he was heartily glad when the grim outlines.o Graveyard Gulch appeared before bim, The place was well named, Nature had evident- ly been in a frolicsome mood when forming —e guich, for rocks were thrown together in wildest confusion, though it was from a few that were fairly regular, and of slab-like form that it took its name. It was a dark and forbidding place, and Horace did not wonder Vivian hesitated abo making it the spot for meeting. He even hesi-+ tated and shivered bimself, and, somehow, the nearest slab of rock seemed to turn to a rea} grave-stone and bear the name of Square Rob, the man who was shot at Ramrod Bar. i¥ He uttered a curse at his folly in indulging in such an absurd fancy, but at that moment a sound bebind him caused him to turn and be saw Vivian advancing, He went to meet her, ‘*Am I late?’ she asked, : “T bave but just arrived. I was admirin j the romantic beauties of the place,” he an- swered. ‘‘Romantic! Then there is a roman? ina real graveyard, But, never mind, Mr. Lin- coln, let us proceed to business. Have you learned anything, as yet, concerping the mys- terious Agatha?’ i ‘‘T may as well say no, though my detectives are on several clews. They are out in every direction, and I have news from Virginia Cit that my agent there has enlisted one of the best of San Francisco detectives, by means of tele- graph and other nas The with which the man lied was mareabie. > Bags. *)- 4 Eomicvooe S) (E(0) (C