Beadle's Dime Library No. 27 — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

i -——— and +w. And of them all, not even Joaquin him- ned ate, sist- » no up i of » 99 k, ht- b,”’ I. nk a] se AS , tl ~ 4 a ae L wa , you out, we'll take care to aven - *yxhausted before any “ Ng: lf was feared and eaccrated more than Three- ingered Jack—the fiend in human guise, who (ied for the mere pleasure of slaying—whose ictims—among them helpless women and chil- - ren—could be numbered by the score. All this the prisoner knew; he knew, too, that arcia would not hesitate to put his threat into xecution at the slightest provocation. ‘Say, old man,” he called out, sharply. ‘* Sup- osing there’s more than one pilgrim— , ‘* So much the —- ee baa ae or cero ou must halt and go ou e nex oy hat comes along yonder trail. If you do it, hen you “4 free to go your way—if not—you inderstand / . Little Voleano sunk back and relapsed into noody silence. There was one chance, The rail to Hard Luck was not one noted for its ravel. The ” came along. This hope was crushed almost as soon as con- yeived. ree-Fingered Jack suddenly drop- ned his cards and bent his ear attentively, a crim smile curling his heavy lip. Faint and sounding from afar, the listeners could just dis- tinguish a whistle—as though some wayfayer was beguiling his step with a merry tune. ’ “Your chance iscoming, young hill-on-fire, grinned Garcia, turning to Little Volcano. ‘Will you take it?” “You know I must,’ was the sullen reply. “Set. me free and give me my weapons.” ‘So you can use them on us, eh? Well, we'll run the risk. Mind—the first crooked step you take will be your last. You’ve gat to go through that mocking-bird, or we’ll put lead enough in your carcass to anchor you in forty fathoms— mind that!” “Tf you're afraid, you can hide yourself first, then throw me my tools,” sneered the young miner. ‘‘ Five men afraid of one little boy—and he unarmed and with his hands tied!” 7 “Crow as loudly in his ear and you'll scare him to death,” laughed Garcia, as he released the captive and restored his weapons. ‘‘ When he gets to yonder rock, show yourself and go through him. If he cuts up rusty, give him a pill. If he is fool enough to make a fuss and rub ou—” ** Much that’ll do me! ect ht nothing, Three-Fingered Jack, Only—! h it was you coming along the trail!” ‘Thar he comes—only one feller!” muttered Mountain Jim, in a tone of disgust. ‘An old cripple, too!” he yee still whistling merrily, appeared upon the ridge, and Little Voleano cast an anx- ward the one whom he was sen- oe ane ' tenced to rob or lose his own life. } | : Be He was tall—would have been remarkably so only for a stoop which amounted to almost de- formity. His hair and long beard were of a dingy yellowish white. His clothes would have ut any respectable scarecrow to the blush, so jlapidated were they, patched and pieced though they had been with odds and ends until scarce & trace of the original material remained. One shoulder supported an old rusty rifle, with pandaged stock, from the barrel of which dan- gled a bundle tied up in a piece of sacking. “When he reaches the rock—out you’ go!” hissed Three-Fingered Jack, holding ‘a cocked revolver where Little Voleano could see it. « And mind—no tricks. The first sign of trea- chery and you’re a dead man!” “You said that before—do you think I’m a fool?” angrily muttered the boy miner, as he jooked to his weapons, The old man reached the rock indicated. ‘Halt there! lift a finger and you're a dead man!” Little Volcano leaped forword with leveled revolver, uttering this challenge in a clear, sharp voice. The old man paused abruptly, his tall form straightening itse , but then a puzzled look came over his face, as he saw his antago- “ Not a word—shell out your dust or you’re a dead man!” added Little oleano, still’ advane- ing; then, when almost within arm’s we of the traveler, he muttered: “Were watched by a gang of Joaquin’s men—play frightened, or “ Don't—don’t A es that thing this-a-way— _posin it ’d go off—whar'd I be? Don’t shoot— rl Se you all Pve got—” se ruITry OP then—my arin’s getting tired— shell a or Pll blow you to never-come-back- again In tess no time?’ cried Little Volcano, for the benefit of the listening outlaws: adding in a whisper: “ Hdge toward. the bank—do it natural as you can—once there we'll give them the slip yet.” “I will—I will—the dust is in my bundle— don’t shoot and [Il git it for you, mister quavered the miner, as he swung hi long rifle around from his shoulder. , The bundle fell from the barrel with such force that it rolled over and over until it paused within half a dozen feet of the steep slope. But so natural was it done that even Little Volcano believed it the result of an accident. ‘It’s in thar—my precious gold!” whimpered the old man, as he hobbled toward the bundle, tience of the outlaws might be | _but which only hastened Little Volcano Beadle’s Dime Library. | closely followed by the boy miner, whose re- volver was at his head all the time. “Shell it out, then—quick! Now jump down the hill and hunt your cover!” As though impelled by the same two sprung over the bank into the rifle-bullet passing over their heads. CHAPTER II. THE AMBUSH SPRUNG, DExtTROUSLY kicking his precious bundle be- fore him, the old man sprung nimbly across the narrow space that intervened, disappearing from view of the outlaws, who were highly amused at the success of their little comedy, be- fore they even suspected anything wrong. Little Volcano followed the “ pilgrim’s ” ex- ample, but not one moment too soon. Three- Fingered Jack saw that more was being played than was down in the bill, and broke cover, sending a hasty shot after his refractory pupil, s de- scent as the ragged bullet hissed past his ear. The trail running between ngtown and Hard Luck at this ro wound along the hill- side, where a level ledge of near fifty yards in width afforded a natural road-bed. Upon the right, or rather toward the east, the ledge ed down, almost perpendicular for twenty feet; be- yond this was an irregular level space, thickly studded with bowlders, bushes and stunted trees, Down this on the two miners had sprung. Scrambling to his feet, the old man darted away with an activity remarkable for one of his years, closely followed by Little Volcano, whose voice rung outin a merry peal of laughter at the success of his ruse, ‘ Kiver, youngster—thar burns more pow- der!” cried the old man, as the an yells of the outwitted road-agents blended with several istol-shots. ‘‘ Kiver—quick! They’re so blamed eerless they’d jist as soon hit a feller as not!” Little Voleano promptly obeyed, plunging headforemost into a clump of bushes which grew beside a large bowlder; but not so the old man, Wheeling quickly, he threw up his rifle, scarce waiting until it reached a level ere touching the werkt at A muffled, choking howl of agony followed, and flinging aloft his arms, leaping far out from the ledge, one of the road-agents plunged heavi- ly down oe the bowlders, a lifeless mass. The F Ere reached the end of his earthly rail. _ ““Whoo-oop!” recklessly yelled the man, toss- ing back his long hair in. the mountain breeze, as he dextrously reloaded his rifle, making no effort to seek cover. ‘‘ Whoo-oop! whar’s thé next critter as wants to buck against the on- tamed waugh-horse o’ the desert? aver I stan’, the biggest little man as ever wore ha’r! My name’s ‘tarnal death to sinners, an’ when I light onto ’em, it’s like a double an’ twisted yearth- uake a-bustin’! HyarI stan’, ragged an’ dirty, the bob-tailed bull of Salt river, as kin—” ‘*Cover, you old fool! D’y’ want to stand up there and get shot like a hog in a pen?” angril yelled Little Volcano, as he sprung up and too a snap shot at the outlaws, just in time to divert the aim of Three-Fingered Jack, whose bullet cut a lock of hair from the old man’s temple. ‘““Mebbe ’twould be as well,” coldly replied that worthy, as the road-agents dodged k again. ‘‘I jest wanted to coax the onmannerly varmints down hyar, so we could just nat’ally chaw ’em up an’ spit ’em to thunder. But they won't come—they hain’t got no sense o’ fun in ’em—not a durned bit!” and he sniffed contemp- tuously as he crouched down beside the boy miner. “They'll come fast enough to suit your health —don’t you be uneasy on that score. If you’ve tram these diggings long, you’d ought to know that Three-Fingered Jack is a bulldog that doesn’t loose his grip until the piece comes out— once let him taste blood,” said Little Volcano, keeping a keen watch along the ledge with pis- tol y for instant use. ‘‘ All as comes won’t go back ag’in on thar own legs,” quietly returned the old man. ‘They—” He rapidly leveled his rifle, but lowered it without firing. ‘‘They’re wuss’n a forty-le flea! A streak o’ greased lightnin’ couldn’t ketch aim at ’em afore they dodge back—” ‘‘ Mind! Lbelieve they’re coming!” ‘No sech luck—they’re jist prospectin’ to see ef we’ve puckacheed. They won’t showa patch o hide big enough to kiver a bullet, long ’s we’re hyar—wuss luck!” grumbled the old man in the tone of one who feels himself defrauded of his just dues. ‘“You don’t seem quite as bad scared now as when we were up yonder,” half laughed Little Voleano, after a pause of silent watchi g: ‘*Who wouldn’t be skeered when he was walkin’ along peac’bly thinkin’ o’ nothin’, to hev a whale of a feller—a reg’lar mounting on wheels—” _ , stranger,” muttered the boy miner, his cheek flushing. ‘‘ I know I’m little, but ’'m big enough to mount any man that pokes fun at me n “T ‘cept your ’ logy—don’t say —. more es 1-1 + one te b’ar hard feel- in’s—” ring, the ollow, a 27 He paused abruptly, half raising his rifle, his keen gray eyes fairly glowing as he watched a small stone bounding down the slope nearly two hundred yards above their position. “The imps is at work,” he muttered, never lowering his gave. ‘‘ Keep a good watch above and below us. Somebody set that dornick a- a rollin’—they ain’t no frost in the ground to loosen it. ey think to git around us an’ pick us off from ahind.” __ “They can do that without giving us a show, if. they take trouble enough,” said the youth, thoughtfully. ‘ There’s cover enough there to hide a thousand, and within easy range, too.” ‘‘Four to one an’ playin’ a sneak game like that! Darn such ornary, onperlite, mossbacked scrubs anyway! They hain’t got no more sense o’ fun than a lame, one-legged hoppergrass ketched out courtin’ by a black frost.” ** That’s good ne , but while we're talkin’, elie working. e can’t cover both sides ere— * They’s Only one thing to do—we’ve got to puckacher, hot foot” - te to run from ’em,” muttered Little Volcano, “Who said anythin’ ‘bout runnin’ from ‘etn? We're goin’ fer’em! They think we're fools. They sot that rock a-rollin’ jest to scare us then they jumped clean over, and hunkered down some’res below, a-openin’ thar tater-traps fer us to run right smack in—an’ that’s jest what we’re gwine to do,” gravely interposed the old man, “Tt does sound better that way,” rr Ea Little Voleano, ‘How is it? You first or 1,” ** Don’t be snatched. Let ’em git scattered a8 fur as they like—they won’t be so much chance o’ thar oe us. Git ready fur a run—do your tallest jumpin’ an’ dodgin’, an’ ef you see a blue pill a-comin’, don’t try to knock it out 0’ the way with your noddle.” All around was still and seemingly peaceful. Only the usual sounds of a summer day amid the mountains—the faint, fitful breeze agitating the dense foliage; the occasional bark of the ine squirrel, feeble and irresolute, as though alf-ashamed of himself for breaking the si- lence, but then, g courage from the ring- ing call of the gaudy cardinal grosbeak, he twitched his bushy tail vivaciously, chit-chir- ring—only to cease abruptly and dart high up the towering pine. The old hunter pointed si plain as the page of a printed movement was to him. From the roadbed alone could their bit of cover guard them. From behind, where the scrubby bushes and thick-lying bowlders afford- ed cover in abundance, they would be entirely e to the aim of any enemy in that quar- ter. The rolling stone, the ari ees squirrel and red-bird, told the quickwit hunter that the road-agents had reasoned the same, and were losing no time in pao the plan into ex- ecution. Down the valley, then, lay their only hope of escape. : ‘Now, then—both eee ey you was a ee as has cpr gatin ay og ot tumble- ow, laigs, do your du "Leben their cover the fore men darted down the valley at top speed, dodging, twist- ing, leaping over bowlders, tearing through or doubling around bushes with a celerity little short of marvelous. A yell of angry rise—another and an- other; then came a s , Spiteful crack as Three-Fingered Jack sent a bullet after the fugitives from his ‘ ~shooter”’—a louder detonation as the contents—bullets and slugs— of the carbines followed suit; but back came adefiant yell and a taunting laugh from the miners. | ‘* Whoo-ee!” squeaked the old man, i abruptly and raising his rifle, hoping to catc an outlaw napping. ‘‘ Whar’s the two-le critter as wants to mount the ’tarnal stud- 0’ iginp an — - ee nese hae 0’ cl’ar nary sand-crack, puff nor wind-gall—m freft piss. tumble buge—I kin lock achow through a forty-foot wall—when I sit down it makes yearthquakes—when I squeel, the glori- ous eagle bird a out its tail feathers in de- spair—when I blow my bugle it makes harry- canes, an’ when I geen! my teeth—” rifle spoke spitefully. A _half-stifled scream followed by a spluttering volley of curs- es told that the bullet had not sped in vain. Shrilly the old man laughed as he turned and ; nimbly after Little Volcano, reloading his weapon as he ran. ificantly at this; k the squirrel’s THREE-FINGERED Jack, the Road-Agent of the Rockies; or the Boy Miner of Hard Luck, is given complete in No. 28, of BrEapLn’s Dim LIBRARY. For sale by all Newsdealers, price ten cents, or sent by Mail on receipt of twelve cents. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, N. Y. Gomicbooks a% “ pew ry - )