Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 257 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

~ =e trimbles onto the tip sticks, an’ I cain’t spit it out. Tell me—tell me, afore I shake seventeen kinds o’ stuffin’ out o’ yo! Who be ye, anyhow ?” The bummer stuck his head around the edge of the door, and in a high, cracked voice called out: ‘‘Tt’s Dick Damper, the durndest devil this side o’ Tophet!” The instant the words escaped his lips, he ducked his head back, and took to his heels, like one anticipating instant pursuit, and conse- quent annihilation for his boldness, But no one followed him, Not evena glance was turned toward the door, for matters of far greater interest enchained the attention of all within the saloon. *T know ye now!” grated the Hard Man from ’Way Back, as his grasp tightened, “TI know ye now, an’ [ know what—I did know, but somehow it’s ’scaped me ag’in! Durn ye, down ye go!” As the first words left his lips, Budd Painter tightened his fierce grip, and with a mighty ef- fort fairly raised the bewildered bully from the floor, feet uppesmost, then swiftl shifting the Pav of one hated to a leg, he held him above is head with the grip of a giant, despite bis wild kicking and efforts to escape. A gasping breath escaped the crowd as they involuntarily shrunk back, for they expected to see their mate dashed to the floor by the tough citizen, and killed or crippled by the fearful shock, But a puzzled look came into those glowin eyes, dimming their insane light, and instead o carrying out his evident purpose when first lift- ing the bully, Painter set him on his feet once more, Trembling, dizzy, unmanned for the moment, Dick Damper staggered back until supported by the bar. The Hard Man from ’Way Back stared at him with painful intentness, brushing one hand across his temples, as though trying to clear away a perplexing mist, unheeding the men who came crowding into the saloon, attracted by the sound of pistol-shots, eager to witness the ** circus,” ‘*Tt’s in here,” muttered the Hercules, tap- ping his scarred brow with the muzzle of a re- volver until the skin reddened beneath the con- tact. “I kin ’most spit it out. Dick Damper— it’s the name. I knowthat much. I know that Dick Damper is one o’ the men I’m huntin’ fer— but why ? What heshedone? Curse ye, dog— pizen imp—hell-hound—spawn o’ the devil!” he snarled, his eyes glittering like living coals of fire as he confronted the bully, who was gradu- ally recovering lis usual nerve as his brain re- covered more an. more from the shock of that terrible blow. ‘* Tell me whar I met ye in the days ee by! Tell me what devil’s trick you layed onto me when [ couldu’t strike back! it it out, or sure’s my name is Budd Painter, Til make a lead mine o Prd karkidge!” Dick Damper started at the sound of that name, for until now he had been too utterly confused to recognize it. A pale shade crept over his bloody face, and a hunted look came into his eyes; but only fora moment. Then his natural boldness was recovered, and he called out in an injured tone: ““T ain’t heeled. Somebody knocked me down from ahind, an’ tuck away my tools when I couldn’t help myself. I don’t know ye from « hole in the ground; but ef you’rea man, an’ think you’ve got any cause o’ grudge id Meo me, let me hev my pops back ag’in an’ Lil fight ye, when, whar an’ how you like! Kin I say any fairer, gents?’ with an appealing glance toward the new-comers, : ‘*Fair play’s a jewel, all the world over!” eried one of their number, taking a step for- ward and addressing Budd Painter. ‘‘ Come, my good fellow; you look like a square man, You wouldn’t shoot down a poor devil without giving him a chance to defend himself? That would be a cowardly act, besides calling for a dose of lynch law.” More suitable words could not have been ex- tracted from between the covers of a diction- ary. The cloud vanished from the face of the Hard Man from ’Way Back, and instead came a stnile, while his voice sounded fairly cheerful, as he replied: **Budd Painter don’t ax no odds of mortal man, an’ I'd fight the devil on an even footin’, ef so be he axed it like a gentleman. Only—ef I could only git it through my head when an’ whar that cuss injured me—fer I know he did throw dirt when I couldn’t holp myself—but qwhar an’ how?” The wild, puzzled look came back to his eyes, but again vanished, as the man who had first spoken tapped him on the shoulder in a friendly manner, laughing lightly: “Fight first and ask the motto in open a Of course you will give uestions afterward, is iggings, my dear sir. ick Damper the chance he asks?” ; ‘“ Fight—him?” with a savage glare at the tally, who was buckling the belt of weapons, banded him by. a mate, around his waist once more. ‘ Yes, ’’d fight him ef he was a thousan’, But Td like to know—” o’ my tongue, but thar it Death-Trap Diggings. ‘*So we all would, my dear fellow,” soothing- ly interposed the other. ‘Time enough for that later, if you don’t get killed; for Dick is the devil with his tools, when he has a fair shake and feels like business. I tell it asa friend.” ‘He won’t kill me,” said Painter, with a low, confident laugh. ‘* Nobody cain’t kill me ontel I’ve done my work. I swore to git even; but I cain’t remember on who, nur why I did it.” ‘Tt will all come back to you in good time, never fear. I’ve been that way myself more than once,” with a side wink of amusement to- ward his friends. ‘‘ Now, my dear sir, I don’t want to crowd myself forward nor crawl into another man’s hole, but if you happen to be lacking a friend who'll guarantee you fair play in this little affair, just consider me your pard for the time being. Jimmy Du Bree is my handle, Any of these gentlemen can answer for my record.” ‘“ You talk white, an’ I reckon I couldn’t do nc better,” coolly returned Painter, all wild- ness, all doubt and uneasy brain-racking vanish- ing as by magic. ‘‘’Tain’t me that is in sech monstrous want of a fri’nd, as it is that coon, yender. He’ll want to borry a pa’r 0’ legs to take him home, fer I’m gwine to suck all the starch out o’ his own, sure as death!” ‘* Brag’s a good dog, but Bite’s a heap better,” sneered Dick Damper, turning and motioning for a drink to the burly barkeeper, who was sullenly bandaging his mutilated hand. ‘* Will you take a smile with me, to better ac- quaintance, my dear sir?’ blandly asked Du Bree. ‘*‘I’ve heard cf you times without end, and am charmed to make your personal ac- quaintance, though I could have wished you any other antagonist than Dick Damper. Still, here’s hoping bis infernal luck may desert him on this particular occasion!” The subject of this pious wish, shot an angry glance toward the bold speaker, who blandly smiled in return. But the bully made no re- mark, for, bold, reckless though he was, he did not care to enter into a personal collision with the velvet sport, whose wonderful nerve and matebless skill with knife or pistol, was public aah he ‘You ’range the tarms, on my a’count,” he muttered to a friend. ‘‘ Make ’em so it'll end in toes up fer one or both.” ‘‘Mr. Timberlake, I believe?’ bowed the gambler, addressing the man indicated. ‘‘Tt wouldn’t be easy to pick out a man as knowed me better,” grinned the fellow, half sourly. ‘Lord knows I’ve dropped enough hard dust on the wrong side o’ your table.” ‘‘Do you think the—ah—gentleman named has anything to do with either faro-playing, or dueling?” innocently asked the velvet sport, his eyebrows arching. His main object was gained by the rather ir- reverent jest. Hesaw that Budd Painter was a stranger in the company, most of whom were mates and boon companions of Dick Damper, and he rather more than half expected a serious row, in case his man should come off first best in the fight projected. But the general laugh which greeted his manner, quite as much as his words, put the crowd into a more agreeable bu- mor. Between two men as thoroughly familiar with the rules and regulations of wild encounters on the borders of civilization as Jimmy Du Bree and Tip Timberlake, but little time was wasted in preliminaries, and five minutes later the terms of combat were plainly stated so all could hear. ‘‘Gentlemen,” said Du Bree, his voice cold and business-like, ‘‘ the principals will be armed with their own weapons, unless they prefer to borrow other tools. They will be stationed iv tbe street, where the moon gives sufficient light for fair shooting, besides being so much more romantic! They will be placed fifty yards apart, back to back, and turn at the word. Once facing each other, they may advance or retreat at will—if either be coward enough to save his life at the expense of his honor and manhood. There are no other regulations to govern them, or the use of their tools. But, if any outsider interferes to aid one or the other, before his antagonist expresses himself satisfied, he will be made the receptacle of all the lead you please to pour into him.” ‘‘Durn so much palaverin’!” growled Dick Damper, pushing toward the door. ‘‘Le’s git out an’ git down to business!” =. “It’s the last chaince you'll hev fer blowin’, so make the most of it, Dick Damper.” laughed the Hard Man from ’Way Back, locking arms with his second and following after. | Out into the night, and along the sides of the moonlighted street flocked the crowd, constantly Sete larger, as the glad tidings spread over eath-Trap Diggings. ae , The duelists were placed in position by their seconds, back to back, but separated fifty yards from each other; too great a distance for accurate shooting, even in the bright light shed by the moon, as many a fellow muttered to his mate. Jimmy Du Bree bad won the right to give the word, when it was checked on his very lips by a strange proceeding. Two horsemen dashed out of the shadows and drew rein only a short distance from Dick Damper. There was a faint whistling sound, then a wild yell escaped the duelist’s lips as the riders dashed madly away into the gloom, Dick Damper dangling between them, his feet just clearing the ground, twin lassoes tightly pinning both arms to his sides! CHAPTER II. AT THE RED LIGHT. So swiftly and adroitly was this strange cap- ture effected, that not one of the crowd of spec- tators suspected what was in the wind, or thought of any interference ov the part of the horsemen, until too late to foil their audacious project. A sharp, angry cry broke from the lips of Jimmy Du Bree, when no further doubt could be entertained as to the purpose of the mad riders, and his revolver leaped from his belt and - ee viciously, though there was naught save the echo of flying hoof-strokes to guide the hum- ming lead. The Hard Man from ’Way Back wheeled in his tracks, a mad howl parting his lips as he glared in vain for the man whose thread of life be had sworn to cut short. ‘‘Whar is he? The coward cuss bes run away, but that won’t save his appetite! Ill hunt him up—l’ll find him ef he stops this side o’ hell! Whar’d he go, an’ which way?” His eyes flashing phosphorescently, bis face strongly convulsed, Budd Painter glared around the spot, and then, guided by the direction in which all wondering eyes were turned he shook his pistols madly in the air, and darted away up the street, bent on vengeance. Jimmy Du Bree started after him, but did not go far. He showed his white teeth in a grim smile, as be paused, noting the rush the crowd was making in tbat direction. ‘‘ Fun is fun, and I like it just as well as the next man; but it won’t do to let it interfere with business. I did all I knew how to give that odd fellow a fair shake—not so easy a thing when Devil Dick and his crowd are con- cerned—but if he don’t get picked up for good and all by some of that gang at his heels, I'll begin to think he is proof against lead or steel! ‘Budd Painter—the Hard Man from ’Way Back! Js be or not? Js be crazy, or only play- ing a part? Were those his mates who carried off Dick Damper? J’l/ never tell!” and with a short, bard Jaugh, the velvet sport put up his istol and turning on his heel, strode away to is place of business, ts playing a part, Budd Painter played it to perfection. A bloodhound could not have searched more savagely for some trace of the mad riders who had so audaciously robbed him of his coveted vengeance; but fate was against him in this instance, and the confines of Death- Trap Diggings were reached without a glimpse being obtained of the two riders or their strange- ly-conveyed captive. Perhaps the tragedy foreseen by Jimmy Du Bree might have occurred, for among the cu- rious crowd were a dozen or more intimate cronies of Dick Damper, and the same suspicion struck them that raised the query in his mind; that all this was a prearranged programme, the wild riders being allies of the man who laid claim to that dread-inspiring title, and more than one hand clasped knife-haft or pistol-butt as their masters glared cautiously around in search of the tough citizen, whose mad cries and furious curses had suddenly ceased. It was something of the same sort that caused the Hard Man from ’Way Back to so abruptly change his line of conduct, With still better cause for so ay pee he be- gan to believe that the reckless riders belonged to the same gang as his antagonist, who were taking desperate chances to save him from bein slain in the duel, and in hopes of inding 28 where he had been taken by watching the movements of some of the fellows who had occupied the saloon with him, the tough citizen darted suddenly into an alley and ae a circuit, doffed bis hunting-shirt of fringed and beaded buckskin, casting it into a hollow beside a rock, pulled the slouched hat over his eyes, and then hung on the outskirts of the thoroughly bewildered crowd. Eagerly he listened, but without receiving the expected reward. If any of those present could solve the mystery of the interrupted duel, they were careful to keep the information close lock- ed within their own bosoms, Gradually the gathering broke up and melted away in various directions, Budd Painter, his brain growing more confused the harder he strove to see his way clear through the tangle, turned back and recovered his shirt, donning it, and then mechanically wending his way down the street toward a brilliant red light which hung over the door of a rather good-sized build- ing for a small mining-camp. ; Not only was the glass globe of a rich crimson hue, but the entire front of the building was of the same color, formed of common window sash set closely together, the small panes in each be- ing stained or painted bright red. Over the door bung a transparency, with letters of the same hue in a dark setting, forming the legend: GOomicnoo Ss Me 4 / - .