Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 28 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

en en ao a —. 2 : t+ ce a a = i ee jury was bought up, an’ ’m gwine to prove it. Ee you’ve any _cur’osity to know which ones they be—jest take a good look at’em. You kin see it in thar faces; they’ll look still greener afore I git through. I say this much jest to let ’em know that they’s two good men close ahind ’em, who’ve got orders to plug ’em_ through ef they tries on any tricks. Now Ill talk busi- ness. “The fust time I began to smell mischief, was night afore last. I was off duty, an’ put in a part o’ my time at Long Tom’s shebang, a-buck- in’ faro a little. The game soon bu’sted up fer want o’ players, most on ’em bein’ out, as ye know, a’ter that old critter. As I started to go out, I hearn Long Tom say a few words as set me to thinkin’. The man he spoke to staid ahind, when I went outside. They shet the do’, but I’m a tol’able tall infant, an’ 80, by stannin’ on a rock, I peeked in over the do’-top. They two was jest goin’ down sullar like, but I know- ed it was the way Long Tom got into his pri- vate-room. That set me to thinkin’ wuss’n ever, an’ fina’ly I cluded to do a little watchin’ on my own a’count. I hung around ontel the fel- ler came out. They didn’t see me,’twas so dark. The feller sais to Long Tom—I reckon he’d got urty full, from the way he talked—he said, sais ie: You kin pend on us, stick like wax; ef it takes a month, we'll git a verdict, I’dhang my own pap fer hafe the money!’ That gave me the scent, for I knowed the man as said if was on this jury, an’ a’ter that I kep’ the trail mighty cluss. It kem out that same night, or ruther mornin’, The var- mint wasn’t so drunk but he called out his mate to whar they thought nobody could hear to ’em., But I’ve played snake afore this on smarter Alecks then them, an’ *twasn’t hard to shadow ’em. . Then I hearn the hull story, ‘““Long Tom—easy, thar!” cried Arkansaw Jack, in a tone of thunder, rapidly covering the gambler with his revolver. ‘* You jest set still —whooray fer the boss!” as Sheriff Hayes dex- trously clasped a Bait of handcuffs around the man’s wrists. ‘‘ Now I kin go on ag’in. ‘‘Long Tom hed a big spite ss on the pris’ner yender, an’ hed offered two thousan’ dollars down if these two cusses would vote guilty, an’ hold out ontel they brung the rest ’round to the same notion. Thar you hev it, short an’ sweet. I’ve tuk my oath on it, an’ it’s true, every word.” Then turning toward the jury, he laughed, scoratully. Two men sat there alone, guilt written upon every feature. The foreman and his colleagues had drawn aside in angry disgust hiss of scorn arose from the fw peice ‘* Silence!” cried Judge Lynch, arising. ‘ Mr. Gabriel, you will see that those two scoundrels are placed under strict guard—along with this fellow. They area disgrace to humanity, and if I live, they shall receive their reward. ‘‘ Now, gentlemen of tho jury, you have heard Ja this case, on both sides. It rémains for you to ronounce on the prisoner’s innocence or guilt. ere the evidence conflicts, you are to take that which you believe to be true. “But all this you know. I will briefly run over the points as T see them, : “One charge is that of murder, Two men have been killed, either maliciously or in self- defense. That they were dirty, no-’count ras- cals, I freely admit, and in one sense their death is a benefit to all decent poo But that isn’t the point. If this gold-placer belonged to them, then their death was murder; if not—if the prisoner owned the chart, you must bring him in innocent of that charge. : “The other charge—for that of robbery is included in the first count—is that of belonging to Joaquin’s gang of cutthroats. I am free to admit that this point seems pretty much mixed. That he has been in Joaquin’s camp, the prison- er admits; also that Joaquin has nof mate- rial service to him at least twice subsequently. But his own story, if you can believe it, ex- Jains that pretty clearly. These are the points, then, for you to consider. And so, gentlemen, the case lies in your hands.” j The foreman whispered for a few minutes with his fellows, then arose and stated that they wished to be where they could discuss the subject more freely. Ata nod from the judge, Arkan- saw Jack conducted them to the log cabin, then returned, after locking them in. Hour after hour passed by, slowly enough, without any sign from the jury, but no one thought of leaving the spot. A fire was kindled as night fell. As the hours rolled on, arias. Big the verdict became more and more animated. Little Volcano listened to the loud voices with a eculiar thrill; it was a novel situation for one o be in. A figure gradually drew nearer, until it stood beside the prisoner. A low, familiar hiss star- tled him—a voice — red: ‘ ‘* Hold yourself ready for quick work—things is a-workin’!” Luckily the darkness concealed his sudden start as he recognized the voice, but when he loo around, the figure had vanished. At this moment came a startling sound—loud voices raising that cry so thrilling—so appalling in its nature: “ Fire! Fire!—the town is on fire!” - —= = tees = _ ——————————— Me an’ my mate “Wl Library. ——$_ ie eee ———$ en — CHAPTER XXVIII. ZIMRI COON ON THE TRAIL, For the proper comprehension of the scenes to follow, a brief retrospective glance is neces- sary. The reader, then, will please glance back to the first day of the trial—to that portion of it where the “Grand River Waugh-hoss” received his well-merited reward for audacious perjury. Until that moment Zimri Coon had never given a thought to escape, after seeing how closely they were guarded. To all outward a earances he was content that matters should ke their course, satisfied that all would come out right in the end, that the innocent would not be called upon to suffer for the guilty, But the old digger was far from being as wholly at ease as he pretended. If there was one thing he dreaded more than death itself, it was ‘‘the law.” This was partially owing to the teaching of his father, who had, if the truth would be told, more than once come under its clutches, and still later, when Zimri was young, he was taken in by a “land shark,” receiving a bogus deed in return for his last dollar. Zimri set- tled down to hard work, built him a double log- house, “ye in a small crop, and was just on the point of starting off for a certain buxom young girl who had promised to share his fortunes at the proben time, when the actual owner of the land put in an appearance. Zimri did all he could, but the result can readily be imagined; he lost his little all. To cap the climax, his promised wife, when she learned the truth, gave him the cold shoulder. That settled Zim- ri. Cursing the law and all its instruments, he struck out into the trackless wilderness, soon turning up as a he goat in the employ of Gen- eral Ashley, of St. Louis. “The law kin make a white man outen a nig- ger, a Injun out of a ‘John,’ an’ a angel ’t out o’ a hundred-year-old Pi-ute squaw,” he was wont to say. ‘Td ruther rastle side holts with the divil hisself than to tetch its little finger ’th a forty-foot pole!” ‘ : ence, though Zimri had a little more faith in lynch law, since it was generally adminis- tered by men of his own class, he gave himself over for lost when the trial fairly began, and he saw that perjury was in order. Then came the episode of Bill Blazes. He saw judge, u- and girieee all completely absorbed—for the time being utterly oblivious of everythin else. He saw his chance, and eagerly poin it out to Little Volcano. But the boy miner firm- ly refuse to make the attempt. Conscious of his own innocence, he could not believe that false evidence would convict him. There was no time to lose: Already they could hear the loud yells of the tortured “‘ waugh- hoss.” A moment’s delay ht be fatal. Un- der any other circumstances Zimri Coon would have suffered death rather than desert his com- rade, but—not law, He darted away with wonderful speed and noiselessness, heading for the hillside as the nearest point where he could gain cover. ‘Yet, only for anaccident, he might ve been discovered. | Leaping over a low line of bushes, he step upon something round and yielding, falling flat to the ground, with a force that drove the breath out of his body for the moment, Before he could arise he heard the wild yell of surprise from below, and knew that his flight had been discovered, His first impulse was to take to his heels, but reason told him that such a course would be rank folly. There were too many horses and mules standing near, for that. A long life of danger and self-dependence had uickened his wits, and an spare art rarely ound him without a plan to meet it with. Just so now. His eyes fell wpon the moss-covered, worm-eaten log over which he had stumbled. Between it and the bushes lay a little hollow, where some rocks had been removed for build- ing 4 . Hastily crawling into this, he cautiously rolled the log over until it fairly cov- ered him, yet being supported in such a way that he could change his position whenever it be- came irksome. And there he lay during the hot search; more than once the ers passed close beside him, without the faintest suspicion that the log cov- ered the object of their search, even if they no- ticed that it had been recently moved, Those hours were the longest ones Zimri Coon ever passed, but he would have endured even more than that rather than to fall again into the clutches of the law. Though all sounds of parent soon died away, Zimri did not venture orth from his novel covert until long after the sun sunk to rest and night had settled over the earth. During this time his thoughts had been pay: On one point he was resolved. Little Voleano must be rescued, if it lay in mortal power to accomplish it. But how? Alone, un- armed, himself hunted by scores of men—the pepe was glaomy enough. Still, before the ime came when he felt it safe to leave his cov- ert, Zimri had fully decided upon his plans, and once in motion he lost no time in carrying them out to the best of his ability. Rolling back the log, he cautiously stole down the hillside and entered the town. Though carefully avoiding the lighted spots—which were few, as nearly every able-bodied man was — — ee still out in search of the fugitive, Zimri walked upright and with well-assumed carelessness. No one ere: him would have suspected the truth. Still he did not care to run any unnecessary risks, nor to lose any more time than he could help, and ina few minutes he paused beside a rude slab shanty, and gently tap upon the door. There was no reply, and a chuckle of satisfaction broke from the old trapper’s lips. He had counted upon the cabin being empty. He pulled a small strip of wood from between two slabs. A string lay coiled up behind it. Pulling this the door opened, and like one well acquaint- ed with the interior, Zimri entered. A few mo- ments’ fumbling in the dark gave him what he wanted, and after carefully closing the door, leaving all as he had found it, he rapidly glided across the valley, soon leaving the town far be- hind him. ‘‘'Timber Dick ll think the devil hes stole his old weepins,” chuckled Zimri, as he fumbled at the revolver now in his belt. “Ill make it all right with him ef this thing turns out—thun- der! it must turn out right!’ _Zimri knew that he was bound upon a mis- sion of particular peril, and felt that he could not attempt it entirely unarmed. Reasonin that the end justified the means, he had entere Timber Dick’s shanty and confiscated the re- volver and ammunition belt which he knew always hung from a ag peg upon the wall. With this, both as a means of self-de- fense and an aid in procuring food, he felt cap- able of ing out the bold plan he had form- ed while lying in his narrow prison upon the hillside. nd that plan was to seek out Joa- uin Murieta, to tell him in what il Little olcano was placed, mainly through him, and to claim his assistance in rescuing him. Not one thought did Zimri give to the danger he himself would run in attempting to deliver this message, save as it would affect the pris- oner. If some of the outlaws did not ick ‘him off before he could gain ch with Joaquin, all might be well. Only—how was he to find Joaquin—where look for him? That was the rub. The outlaw was here to-day, there tc- morrow. He thought little of traversiag sev- enty ve and even a hundred miles betwixt sun and sun. Knowing all this Zimri set about his task with some hopes of success. He knew that the outlaw’s wife had been badly injured; he knew, too, that Joaquin held her dear as the apple of his eye. The country was up in arms against him. Jack Hayes and Harry Love had both raised companies with the avowed pur- ape of hunting him down. He would be more ban usually prudent on his wife’s account. Knowing all this, Zimri Coon felt tolerably con- fident that the outlaw would be found, if at all up amid the mountains of the north, and toward them he hastened now. It is unnecessary to follow him step by step, to record all his disappointments, to tell how sick his heart grew as the days flew rapidly by, leaving him, pening as far as ever from the object of his search. But he persevered, and his reward came at last. He discovered the outlaws’ retreat just atsun- set in a little valley nestling between the moun- tains. He saw that regular guards were placed at every possible point where an approach could be made. Yet, when night came, Zimri for the camp, resolved to do or die. That was a terrible two hours, and aged him more than as many years. Not that he feared death so much for himself, but he knew that the life of his friend hung in the balance aswell. Yet he assed the outposts undiscovered, and fairly en- red the camp. He saw Joaquin seated before a tent. He glided forward, and, before the outlaws divined the truth, he laid his only wea- oe at Murieta’s feet and claimed his protection. or was his trust betrayed. The outlaw recog- nized him, and politely returned his pistol, bid- d pat at f “ie oe ’ en Zimri told his story. He made Joaqui believe that Little Volcano owed his present danger alone to his acquaintance with him— which was nearly correct, asthe reader is aware. The appeal was not in vain. Murderer though he was, with hand stained in the heart’s blood of scores of victims, Joaquin Murieta was as true a friend as he was a terrible enemy. Within the hour they were upon the road, leaving only three or four men to care for the women. Joaquin did not spare horse- flesh. There was fear lest they should be too late, ride h as they might, and Zimri urged them on, unreasonably angry that they should tire before himself, cursing the poor horses whenever they absolutely required a rest. Yet, though his motives were good, ip a it would have been better if he had failed in his task. Even if suecess should crown his efforts, such a rescue could only the more surely con- demn Little Volcano. gee Fo i The vicinity of Hard Luck was reached at last, and while the horsemen halted under cov- er, Zimri crept up the ridge and ere wel peared down vy Bek the busy scene. Thank ! e was not too late! : He could see the nage, the prisoner—but the jury was absent. told him the state of af- airs. H to th my =sGORMIGDOOKS.co |