Beadle's Dime Library No. 258 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

’ asa ve i O° ) 5 4 it one oe s ¥ abs — — So a ; a ‘~~ ~~ .- >. = = « et ou te ae = - we an 7 . -—" 7 bi tered, “ _ bold of me again!” > — — — 24 ~ = - — — = zx ae > —_ — : ————— ~ —— a = — . eo — - SS Sad s ST. Bullet Head, the Colorado Bravo. In this he was right, but the road-agents were at last clear of the house and the village. “Darke,” said his chief, abruptly, ‘‘ you've been playing a fine game, haven’t you?” ‘* ] thought so at the time,” nervously replied the lieutenant. ‘* You are aware, of course, that your life is forfeited according to the rules of our band?’ * Yes ‘* Well, I must say you are a fool.” *““So I am,” said Darke; ‘“‘a most infernal, mule-headed fool. I expect to lose my head, but I'll tell you bow it was.” He then explained how he had been tempted to abduct Lila and why he had remained near Red Bar. | ** Whois this girl?’ the Bravo demanded. ‘*T don’t know; I am inclined to think he lied and that she is his own.” ** No; I have reason to believe she is not. He was too cold, miserly and mean to burden him- self with a family in the old days; and that’s one reason why I can’t understand why he should adopt this girl.” The w were musingly spoken and then the Bravo suddenly aroused. ‘* Where is she now?’ he asked. “In a hut on the north side of the moun- tain.” ‘* Are you willing to surrender her to me?” “Yes. I’m beat at this game and I know enough to acknowledge it. If lsavemy head I shall be satisfied.” ‘* Well, ’m rather sorry to rob you of the girl, but Ihave taken an interest in her and want to know whosheis. Deal squarely with me, Crisp, and I'll do the same by you. Lead the way to the hut.” Darke promptly obeyed and the journey was un. oie was a rough and far from pleasant one. Their way lay along the mountain side where Nature bad arranged matters in her most way- ward fashion. The clouded moon gave but a poor light and for less practiced feet than theirs it would have been dangerous, but they had toiled over the mountain many a time. Little talking was done on the journey, but at last the lieutenant paused and pointed ahead. “* She’s in there!’ Bullet Head knew the locality well. Several miners had attempted to find the auriferous soil in acanyon at that point, but, failing, they de- -and left a dozen cabins asa relic of their attempt and failure. ‘*S \e’s in the first one,” said Darke. “Go on!” was the terse answer. They went, but Darke again paused at the door. ‘Perhaps I had better go in first and give her warning to prepare for visitors,” he suggested. The idea was so reasonable that the Bravo assented. Hissubordinate entered and be leaned inst the hut and looked thoughtfully to where the highest peak of the mountain was touched by the full glow of moonlight until the dark eminence seemed to have a white cap. Bullet Head was not an imaginative man bution this occasion he fell into thought and forgot himself. When he aroused it was to won- der at Darke’s slowness. He gave bim another half minute and then rapped at the door. Th re was no answer. H_ repeated the summons, but silence reigned as before. A suspicion flashed over bis mind and he pulled the door wide open. He had taken the precaution to stand well back, for there was a possibility that some one might be in ambush, but the sight of an open window at the rear confirmed his suspicions. He darted in, but the cabin was empty and gave no sign of having been occupied. “Trie !” hissed the Bravo. “Once let me get my eyes on him and he is a dead man!” He nded very well how Darke bad ectpuiptiahed his escape; the leaving of his su- pe at the door had been a trick and he had passed out of the rear window. - Bullet Head visited the othercabins. In oneof them he found a glove, small and delicate enough for a woman’s hand, and in another evidence it a horse bad been tied there. He cursed his pidity as he realized that be had been so near the realization of bis wishes only to lose all h his unusual carelessness, " the end isn’t yet!” he muttered, parm er fist toward the north. ‘‘ You’ll be a ooted goat if you get clear of me, Jim a wr we I catch you lll make you bowl | mercy At the same moment a horseman was riding - away from the base of the mountain, carrying a female before him on the saddle, and as he 7 spurs to his horse he glanced anxiously back the mountain, “Tve got to go my level best, now,” he mut- or it’s sure death if Bullet Head gets The speaker was Lieutenant Darke, CHAPTER XXX. PILGRIMS ON THE ROAD. Tue stage from Beaver City to Red Bullet Bar had been gone nearly an hour from the _- former place when the loungers at the Mixed Pickles Hotel were interested by the approach of ahorse. It was ridden, and doubly ridden, too, for two w-men clang to its back as it clattered down toward the Mixed Pickles. The horse seemed to be a little on the sunny side of thirty, in point of years, and h> certain- ly had the bone-works on which to build a good horse, but he had evidently been fed on anti-fat for some time and looked like a skeleton resur- rected for the occasion, Per contra, the lady who managed him was young, plump and beautiful; as rosy a specimen of womankind as had ever been seen in Beaver City. The second rider had seen fifty years and was gray, pale, thin and sad. ‘What time is it now?’ the latter asked, as they neared the door of Mixed Pickles. ‘Tt lacks ten minutes of stage-time, Mrs. Quain,” replied the young lady, consulting her gold watch. The elderly lady, or Mrs. Quain, as we have heard her called, murmured something which sounded like an expression of pleasure, but her voice was rather faint. The dilapidated charger came to a halt at the hotel so suddenly as to nearly unhorse the ladies, but the younger one lot no time in making known her business. ‘* Where caxI find the stage for Red Bullet Bar?’ she asked, tersely, addressing the nearest lounger. ‘* Bout three or four mild out on ther trail, I reckon,” he said, with due respect. ‘*What! not gone already?’ ‘I take et ’tis, fur so they said, but ez I aim ter be right I won’t say fur sarting. Boyees, how is it?” A general response arose to the effect that the stage had ind been gone for an hour. ‘“Ther bridge over ’Rastle-water Creek went off ther "buttments in ther last shower an’ Tony Wells hez ter take ther long route ‘round Humpty Dumpty Plain,” added one of the men, ‘an’ as ther distance is fifteen mild furder he starts an hour ‘arlier.” Plainly it was a hard blow to the ladies. They alighted, the frame-work of their horse was taken round to the stable and they entered the hotel. ‘* Prepare supper at once,” said the younger one, ‘‘and in the mean while tell us how we can get to Red Bullet Bar.” The landlord didn’t know. There wasn’t a horse in Beaver City, except those of travelers, and he said he “lowed as how they must go on ez they kim in ef they went a tall.” The young lady thought differently and she appealed to the crowd who had followed her. ‘‘Ef we hed a vehighkle,” observed the man whom she had first addressed, “I reckon we might make et work. I hev a hoss in ther stable, an’ if he war yoked in ’side o’ yourn we e’u’d fly ter Red Bar.” The suggestion irrigated the landlord’s wits. In his hay-loft was an old stage, cast aside when the new one was put on the road, and pospthiy that would hold together until Red ar was reached. ‘“That hyar is ther chance, miss,” said her best friend. ‘‘What-say, shall we hitch hosses fur ther trip?” She did not hesitate. The man had a good face, albeit he was homely, ragged, dirty and uncombed, and she caught at his offer. His horse and hers, coupled in the team, would un- doubtedly take them through to the Bar and she must not delay. ‘‘What is your name?” she asked, when the bargain was made, ‘‘Gentle John—only one J. You may have heered from me in connection with my bowlin’- alley an’ Bad Lung. He’s my assistant who sets them up.” “IT do not recollect the names, but it is all right. My name is Rose Jackson, Now, can rou have the team ready by the time we have nished supper?” “Beyond a doubt, miss, an’ I'll see to it at once, I aim to be right,” When Miss Jackson and Mrs. Quain went to take their conveyance they did not wonder at the amused smiles of the spectators. ; A worse-looking vehicle never opened its maw for passengers. Time had left ite traces there and the works were deep. Two wheels were red, one n and the third one unpainted; the once-black top was bleached, cracked and rag- ged, and decay was every where. The horses were of the same rank. The tall bony beast on which the ladies arrived occupied the ‘‘ off” side, while at bis left was a small, short-legged, plump little beast whose extreme- ly long ears and paint-brush tail were very sug- gestive. Altogether, such a team had never before been seen in Beaver City. ‘Are we all ready?’ Rose asked, her mo- men smile vanishing. ‘“f think we are,” answered Gentle John, “ though I won’t say posityvely. I aim ter be right,” The ladies entered the vehicle, their new ally climbed to the box and the outfit moved. Those who pee 3 expected = see ~ $s >" still were dis- a ; It moved. ong-eared pi wales ht down to work, and the lank ak. cheered by such welcome company, cham his bits, tried to toss his head and then trotted along cheerfully. Gentle John knew the route wel]. He had been all over the West and had tried his hand at nearly every employment; he felt able to take his passengers through if the stage hung together. The ladies did not address him for some time, for he was busy encouraging his team, tut he finally turned around, ‘“What’s ther name o’ yer quadrupedal?” he asked, pointing to the off horse. “*T really don’t know,” Rose answered. ‘He must hev some one; what’d be ther cor- rect figger?” “Ob! anything you think best.” ‘Et might be Hannibaw!] or Buttercup,” was the perfectly serious reply. ‘“My beast o’ bur- den is named Susan Temple, bein’ a blood re- lation o’ Flora. Mebbe I'd better call yourn Buttercup; ’twould be more appropriate fur a lady’s hoss,” “Did you see who went in the stage?’ Rose abruptly asked. “Yes; there was three men. Hole on, I won’t say sartin’ they went, fur I aim ter be right, but I see’d them ’round ther Mixed Pickles an’ took it they was goin’.” “Describe them!” Gentle John did his best. According to bis account, two were ve | miners, or, perbaps, roughs, and the other a tall, slender, pale-faced, serious-looking man, who looked as though he might be a preacher. ‘* Eben Garland!” exclaimed Rose. * Yes,” sighed Mrs, Quain. ‘Pray Heaven we may reach the Bar as soon as he!” ** Yes,” again said the elder lady, ‘* Do you regret coming?” ‘‘ No; though I know if Thomas ever hears of thishe will kill me. You don’t know his: temper. Much as I fear him, however, I will dare bim and Eben for my foster-son.” “True,” said Rose, with energy. ‘ Allen must be saved.” And then the outfit rolled on, the passengers scarcely speaking, but with Gentle John busily talking to ‘‘ Susan” and “‘ Buttercup,” and the at span ambled cheerfully over the road. At the same time the regular stage was three miles in advance. It was going no faster than that behind, for Tony Wells wasn’t the man to injure his horses when it was unnecessary. y the loss of the Wrestle-water Creek bridge his route was so lengthened that he could not reach the Bar before eleven o’clock anyhow, and he intended to roll in at just midnight. Inside the stage were fe the passengers whom Gentle John had described; the two rough-looking fellows and the sober-faced man in broadcloth. The latter was Eben Garland, attorney at- law, of St. Louis, a man whose name will not be unfamiliar to the reader. Mr, Garland did not like the extreme West. From the time he left Kansas City he had beem a coward. Accustomed to city life, be felt able to meet and hold his own with any of smooth-tongued rascals of St. Louis, but the knife and-revolver desperado was to him worse than a hideous nightmare; he was a serpent with undrawn fangs. Hence, the lawyer was miserable from the moment he entered the stage. His rough com- panions were typical roughs, and he thought of all the famous ouflaws of whom he had read and shivered. 8 companiois were friends, and called each other “Ned” and “ Sam;” worse than this, they were armed to the teeth> they drank a good deal of whisky and were boisterous and unpleasant. The lawyer, however, tried his best to give no offense and several miles were passed with- out disturbance. 4 Night drew near and twilight gave e to derkness, but the stage rolled steadily on under Tony’s skillful care. Trouble was bre , however, and the first symptom came when one of the horses fell lame. ) Tony looked for a cause in the a of a stone against the hoof or something of the kind, but failing to find it, treated his passengers to a few choice selections from the Western language. He bad paid a good round sum for the and it was certainly bard to see him thus 7 out of condition. Aap Tony, bowever, was a merciful man, and he began to unhitch bis horses. “What are 70% going to do?” Mr. Garland hurriedly asked. ‘‘Camp,” was the brief reply. ‘For how long?” a ‘Till that hoss comes out on’t. “But he may never come out of it. | “‘Then we may never | , And Tony went on with bis ae ng prepara- tions, turning a deaf ear to all that land said. Even an offer of twenty-five dollars, in case they reached the Bar at midnight, was of no ava ; Tons had said he was going to camp and he meant ess. The lawyer was amazed at the delay in reach- ing the Bar and alarmed at the prospect of a cS Eomicboo (E — ie