Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 289 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

run ling and ers, s is ned ned re- ne- oo] the to lly ; ¥ (Bete yp “ + | | Flush Fred’s Full Hand knowivg. I wish IL had your nerve and your pluck, and I wish I had your youth and epirit, and, begad, sir, I wish I could play poker with your dash and spirit. I want to introduce my nephew to you, if you are willing. Here, Paul!” young man who was about the age of Fred Henning stepped forward gracefully, but with a frown on his face, : He was not a young man of prepossessing ap- pearance, though he was faultlessly dressed, and his style, at least on the outside, was that of a well-bred gentleman. His dark eyes were small and restless, and his brow was low, and his black roustache gave his face a sinister look, perhaps due to the sneer that asually lurked under it. Flush Fred was prepared to dislike him as soon as he,saw him, and this feeling was doubt- less reciprocated by the other. ‘““This is my nephew, Paul Delarosse,” said the old gentleman. ‘‘ As he has been educated abroad, he is not very well acquainted with his native country, and | want him to see what fine specimens of manhood America can produce. his gentleman, Paul, is Mr. Fred Henning, who saved the boat and ber passengers, last night, when the pilot was struck dead at his post, We ean well boast of our young men here, when eran do such daring and skillful deeds as 1at, _ Paul Delarosse spoke with a slightly French- te accent, and his sneer was quite percept- zbie. | ‘Mr. Henning will hardly thank you, zncle Leon,” he said, “for yoru" wavagant praise, as it seems that he is son———«bat..a pilot, and he only did what any pillow weal. have done in his place, Besides, he put at risk the livesof all the people on the boat.” “If you put it in that way, my boy, I must say that bis own life was worth more to pr than a good many other lives, and he risked at. ‘After all, uncle, thera is not a vast amount of peril in a mud-bank, and I suppose beat Mr. Henning is accustomed to games of uff. ‘Why, you supercilious young dog, I won- der if anything on this earth will ever please 7oe Mr. Henning, you must overlook Paul's ittle queerishness as Ll do. Heis the only son of my dead brother, and I am taking him home to my place to put a little life into the old plan- tation. nm " PP to make him Your heir,” thought red, He did not speak, however, but smiled pleas- antly, being amused by what looked like an absurd jealousy on the part of the young man. ‘* Now I shall want you to come and see me, Mr, Henning,” said the old gentleman. ‘* You have plenty of leisure, or can have if you want to, and I shall insist upon a visit. It is easy to find my place—Gravelly Bayou, a few miles from Martigny—and everything I bave shall be at your disposal when you come, You can make expenses by aplaying poker with me, if nothing else will suit you; but I do hope taat you will come and give me a long visit.” Fred thanked the hearty old gentleman for his kind invitation, and said that he hoped to be able to avail himself of it. Paul Delarosse frowned more darkly than usual, but did not openly express his displeasure until he walked away with his uncle. ‘‘ How could you invite that man to your house, uncle Leon?” he asked. ‘Don’t you <now that he is a professional gambler?” ‘‘T think I know as much about it as you do,” crustily answered the old gentleman. ‘Do you wish me to associate with that class of people?” ‘Now, Paul, you ought not to get to be too high-minded quite so suddenly, “It is my opinion that the people I choose to associate with are quite good enough for you. What were you but a card-sharper when I picked you up in Paris?” Fred Henning looked after the couple rather critically. ‘The old gentleman is a good and well-pre served specimen of the Louisiana planter,” he muttered; ** but the young fellow has got some- thing on bis mind that ought not to be there.” CHAPTER III, A SWAMP SUCKER. Bene was @ COmMmotion in Natchez-Under- the-Hill. This was not by any means an unusual event, as the town was noted for Spy thing but quiet, and its norma! condition was by no means that of stagnation. ’ The upper Natchez, which adorned the beau- tiful bluff on which it rested, was louely with its pleasant homes, surrounded by a wealth of semi-tropical trees and fruits; but the Natchez that rested under the hill, at the bank of the river, was a dirty and straggling town, well abe the unsavory reputation, that had clung to it during many years. ¥ It may have been the quality of the whisky was dispensed by the Natchez bar-keepers, ‘it may have been the quality of the men who b | ’ SSO AAS et ae oY ° drank that whisky, that caused such tumultuous results. Sure it is that the combination of men and whisky was productive of quarrels, rows, fights, cutting and shooting scrapes, and all manner of unpleasantness. And the Natchez that adorned the top of the bluff smiled serenely, while the Natchez that lay under the hill caroused and rioted. Consequently it was not at all surprising that there was a commotion in Natchez that after- noon in June. This particular commotion bad its origin in a train of cireumstances which had gradually led up to it, » A little before noon a swamp sucker from over the river, as some of the loungers styled him, made his appearance at/Charley Stamper’s *“O K. House,” at the landing. He was a young man, probably younger than he looked to be, owing to his rusty garments and his seedy appearance generally. In fact, his hickory shirt and bis butternut trowsers, fashionless and ragged as they were, were of the swamp swampy, and even his journey to Natchez had not rid them of the moss and mud from which he seemed to have sprung. Moreover, he had a slouchy and stoop-shoul- dered way of moving about in his foxy brogans, that gave him the appearance of being older than he was. Yet his bronzed face had good features, and his dark eyes were fine and expressive, and, if he could have been well dressed and straight- ened up, he might have passed for a really handsome young fellow, But, as be looked then, with an old felt hat slouched over bis face, and with a dirty carpet- sack in his hand, he was quite unattractive. _His unattractiveness was increased by his ac- tions, He shambled up to the bar, and called for whisky. Charley Stamper set out a black bottle and the large glass of the period. The swamp sucker filled the glass to the brim, the barkeeper eying him curionsly as he did so, He drank it off at a gulp, and placed ten cents on the counter, The bar-keeper shoved the ten cents back to eS m, and sighed as he put away the bottle and ass. ‘Why don’t you take the money?” asked the customer who had been so liberal to himself. ‘“*I hain’t got no license fur sellin’ liquor at wholesale,” mildly remarked Charley. Evidently the customer did not know what to make of this; but he accepted the situation and walked away from the bar. “Who is that queer duck, Charley?’ inquired a flashily-dressed man who had watched the per- formance, ‘*His name is Saul Stiner, and he is one 0’ them swamp suckers from over theriver. You know what they are—all ague-cake and ign’ance, Shouldn’t wonder if he’s got a snake in that aripeck o’ bis’n.” ure enough, that was what Saul Stiner had, and he had visited Charley Stamper’s saloon for the purpose of exbibiting bis snake and picking up a few shillings by the show. He placed the carpet-sack on a table, and be- gan to untie the strings that held it shut. There were near a dozen menin the room, and most of them hastened to move away frem the vicinity of that table. ‘** This here, gen’lemen,” said he, ‘‘is a bigger rattler than you’re likely to see over here, unless somebody brings him.” He opened the carpet-sack, and forth emerged an immense and iting serpent, evidently a rattlesnake, which coiled itself about the ex- bibitor’s arm. ‘‘Look at him, gen’lemen!” exclaimed Saul. ‘‘ Ain’t he a beauty? "Leven rattles and a but- ton, and his fangs is jest as good as they ever wes. Here’s where he bit me—right here on the back of my hand.” He showed the back of his hand, where a sore was plainly visible, from which a little greenish matter was still oozing. ** He bit me there when I began to tame him, and | had to drink nigh two quarts o’ whisky afore I got the best o’ that bite. But he won’t bite me ag’in ’cause I’ve got bim tame, though his fangs is as good as ever, and there ain’t nothin’ to be afeard ef, gen’lemen, ’cause he’s as gentleasalamb. Jest watch him, now.” Just then the snake was not a pleasant ob- ject to watch, as he was coiled around the ex- hibitor’s arm, with his head erect, his bead-like eyes fastened on the unwilling audience, and his forked tongue darting in aod out of his ugly open mouth. The swamp sucker unwrapped the bideous reptile, coiled him around his neck, toc’: hina oft, stretched him out in the air at arm’s :ength by the head and tail, placed bim against bis naked bosom, and performed various other antics with bim that made the bystanders shiver. Doubtless they would gladly have got away from the show; but the exhibitor with his ex- hibition was between them and the door. “Take that thing prey !” roared the flashily dressed man who had spoken to the barkeeper. a ; Pe ee) Fe . oe — 3 ‘Take it out of here, Isay, or I will blowa hole through you.” ‘That ain’t the thing to do, Ned Sparks,” demurred Charley Stamper. ‘‘ The easiest way is allus the best. 1 say, Saul, piteh me your bat, and I'll take upa good collection for you.” The exhibitor instantly obeyed, and the hat was passed around while he played with his snake, and all were quick with their contribu- tions. **On condition that he goes away,” observed Ned Sparks, as he dropped a bill into the hat. Charley Stamper placed the hat on the coun- ter. ‘‘Shut up that critter now, Saul,” said fhe, ‘fan’ come an’ git yer hat, an’ we don’t keer to see any more o’ the show to-day.” The swamp sucker’s eyes glistened as be emp- tied the pile of money from the hat into his pocket. ‘‘ All right,” he muttered, and he picked up his carpetsack, and left the saloon, The others followed him at a respectful dis- tance. Doubtless they bad been aching for a chance to get out into the open air. Outside the sunshine was hot, and the ragged bank that passed for a levee was dry and dusty. Perhaps it was the uncomfortable state of the atmosphere and of things generally that fretted the swamp sucker and increased his easily aroused anger. He turned to see who was following him, and perceived Ned Sparks. Then he stopped and faced that individual, speaking to him sharply: ‘You are the man who threatened to shoot me if I didn’t git out,” said he. ‘ Are you fool enough to think I would have gone for that?” It was worthy of notice that his manner and bis style of speaking had changed considerably since he came out of Charley Stamper’s place. ‘*Get away from here, now,” replied Sparks, ashe took a step backward. ‘‘If you fool with me, young man, you areliable to get burt.” Saul Stiner had been fumbling with the string that tied bis carpet-sack, and he suddenly open- ed it, and pulled out tke rattlesnake. He held the reptile out with both hands, its ugly mouth open, and its crooked fangs show- ing. F Don’t you dare to come near me!” exclaim- ed Sparks as he took another step backward, “Keep away, young man, or you will get hurt!” ‘Tf will, will T¢ Say another word, and I will throw this snake in your face.” Sparks had thrust his hand into bis breast- poe and at this moment he drew forth a re- volver, | As Saul raised the reptile, the pistol was fired . with quick and certain aim, sending the severed head whirling in the air. at it sadly, while his antagonist replaced t volver in his breast-pocket. Then the real commotion begar. The man who had come out of the saloon sud- denly grew valorous, and rushed at Saul Stiner with angry and vengeful cries. ‘‘ Go for bim, Ned Sparks!” ** Kill the cussed snake coddler !” “Snatch him baldheaded, boys!” ** Pitch him into the river!” The swamp sucker dropped the dead snake— dead, though still seemingly alive—and glared fiercely at the bowling pack. ‘* No, boys, no,” said a man of gentlemanly appearance, who stepped forward to bis side. e words were spoken quietly and calmly, but with a commanding tone and air that com- pelled respect. ‘“‘Hel.o, Fred Henning!” shouted Sparks, “ Is tbat really you, old boy?” “Every let this poor fellow go, Ned. have any call to worry bim.” “ Allright. Anything to oblige a friend. I don’t want to hurt him; but I bad to settle that infernal rattler of bis.” | The others, when they perceived that Fred Henning and Ned Sparks were prepared to side with the swamp sucker, ceased their hostile de- monstrations. ‘‘] think you had better go home, my friend,” said Flush , ‘and I advise you to leave your snakes at home the next time you come over bere.” “| will, if you say so,” answered Saul Stiner, ‘and I am much obliged to you, sir.” He picked up his carpet-sack, walked down to the river, unmoored bis skiff, and rowed him- self away from Natchez. ** Where did you drop from, Fred?’ inquired Ned Sparks. ‘Been visiting the big-bugs on the bill?” ‘‘T have been circulating in that neighbor- hood a little.” ‘‘ And you have brought down a pile of wealth with you, I'll be bound. Come and give me a chance to beat you out of some of it.” CHAPTER IV. : FREED BY A BLOODHOUND. “So you think I can’t find the way, Antoine,” remarked a young gentleman who was seated on the porch of a Frenchby-] <€om The swamp sucker lowered his pet, and — . re- I don’t think you bit of me, you may bet. Suppose you | 7 —_——es ing old tavern tthe chooksicom