Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 289 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

- maud, apparently lea a ce ee a ee ne ——C eae em ee Flush Fred's Full Hand. —_— —< near the edge of the small town of Vidalia, | If his first shot should not prove fatal, he one bedstead in the room; but there was ge. smoking an after-dinner cigar. ‘*T doubt if you can, Mr. Henning,” replied Antoine Pasteur, a middle-aged man who, de- | spite the Frenchiness of his name. seemed to have little else about him that was French. ‘Why not? What is the matter with the road?’ ‘‘Nothing is the matter with it, if you know what to do with it. It is not much of a road, and it winds in and out among the swamps and ba yous, and it branches off here and there, and the high water bas mixed things up, and—” ‘That will do, my friend. I think you are trying to frighten me. What do you take me for? . “For a man who knows what he is doing, as well as any man does, but who is apt to be a- little headstrong. Toere is not much travel that way, Mr. Henning. The fact is that Colonel Delarosse—” ‘‘Is he a colonel, then?” interrupted Flush Fred. ‘* How can anybody tell you anything when you break in like that? General Delarosse, as I was saying—” ‘Yuu are promoting him rapidly, Autoine.” “If be stays on his plantation he will get as big a title as the parish can afford or invent. He has a landing of bis own, down there near Gravelly Bayou, which be calls Martigny, though it is no sort of a place at all, and no map-maiker would think of noticing it. He wants to make a town there, though, and has done just enough at it to get up a little strag- ging trade, and that’s the reason—” ‘*T do declare, Antoine, that you will talk me to death if I stay here any longer, and there is not a bit of reason in your talk. Give me the bearings—that’s all I want—and [ will bet you ten doilars that I make the trip all right,” ‘*T will take the bet, sir, and will give you the best directions I can, and I do honestly hope you may win.” Flush Fred paid bis bill, bad a parting glass with his bost, and started off, afoot and alone. His dinner bad been late, and he had smoked and talked for some time after dinner; so that a considerable slice had been cut out of the after- noon when he set out. But he had been told that it was only a few miles to Gravelly Bayou, and surely it must be a pleasant walk by cotton or corn fields and neat plantations, and under the shade of a mag- nificent forest. Flush Fred was a capital walker, and ex- to enjoy his tramp greatly, laughing at the predictions of the Vidalia tavern-keeper, and at a. to reach bis destination before nightfall. Yet there was something the matter, and his pleasant anticipations began to give place to agape de As the sun began to get low down in the sky be knew that he had traveled more than “ a few miles”—in fact, more than several miles, and yet he had not come in sight of Gravelly Bayou or any other large plantation. Indeed, the fine plantations and the cultivated fields which he had expected to see were nowhere visible along the route he was travel- ing. | "Fie had passed the last of them some distance back, and he appeared to be approaching a region of forest and swamp, where no habita- tions were likely to be found. _ What was the matter? The road, as Antoine Pasteur had said, was not much of a road, and in places the bigh water had effaced all signs of a road, and it ran here and there to avoid swamps and bayous or big sloughs; but he believed that be had kept the general direction that he had been told to e. Yet he might have mistaken the course and got far away from the rigbt track. - If so, what should he do about it? He could turn back, or could go forward until he sbould reach a habitation of some sort, As turning back was not at all iu his line, he pressed on, hastening his steps, as a man will when he has lost bis way. he sun went down, and he was still in the forest. Night came on, and he was tangled in a swampy maze, where the live-oaks and cypresses, with their heavy banners of gray moss, made the darkness yet denser. | The only road visible before bim was a cordurey track, at places partly buried in the ding nowhere, and in every aspect uninviting. As Flush Fred balted, and Jooked around de- spairingly, he doubtless wished that he had turned back when he could. | A deep bark, beavy and ominous as thunder shook the thick air of the forest, and he turned his startled eyes in the direction of the sound. In the growing darkness he saw a large black animal speeding toward him with lon leaps, and its voice and size told bim that it must be a bloodhound ef the biggest and fiercest species. Should he stand his ground and shoot the beast as it came on? That would be too risky. snes a ' ' | i | j | | might not bave a chance to fire another, lt was easy to reach e@ place of refuge, where he would bave a better chance against the brute. He ran to a live-oak tree, caught a hanging bough, and swung himself up into a position of safety. In this he was none too quick, as the hound reached the foot of the tree before he had settled bimself, and its great mouth opened wide, and its cruel jaws snapped as it sprung at the lower boughs, its thunderous bark rousing vhe echoes of tle forest. Would the beast climb the tree? There could be no doubt that it wanted to, and at times it came so near accomplishing its ob- ject, that Fred Henning mounted a little bigher, and drew bis pistol. But the hound seon ceased its attempts to jump up into the tree, and settled back on its haunches and its bark changed to a howl, Flush Fred was fairly treed, and the question was how long he should submit to that sort of treatment. He admired the big brute, though he recog- nized it as a dangerous animal, and was de- cidedly opposed to shooting it; but that seemed to be the only course that was left to bim. He had drawn his pistol, ard bad cocked it for the purpose of taking a deliberate aim at his fierce guard, when a loud and sbrill whistle pierced the heavy air of the forest, The hound cocked its ears, as if if knew the whistle, and barked a thunderous reply, but did not stir from its position. ‘* Hello-o-o!” yelled the man in the live-oak, and an answering cry came to him from a little distance. ‘* What have you treed here, Satan?” demand- ed a man who raa to the dog with long steps, Dark as it was, Fred Henning bad no diffi- culty in recognizing the uncouth garments and slouching figure of Saul Stiner, whom he had last seen at the Natchez landing. ‘Jt is a white man that your hound has treed,” said he. ‘‘l was not willing to shoot bim, but might have been compelled to do so, if you bad not come along.” The swamp sucker spoke to the Cog, and it came and crouched at bis feet. Fred Henning dropped down from the tree, Saul Stiner seemed to be able to see in the night quite as well as in the day. Dark as it was, he at once recognized the man who had rescued him from the Natchez roughs, ‘‘Is it really you, sir?’ he exclaimed. ‘‘ How did you ever get here?’ Fred explained that be bad been endeavoring to find his way to Gravelly Bayou, the planta- tion of Leon Delarosse. “ You were going right away from it on this road,” replied Saul. ‘*‘ You couldn’t get there to-night, Mr. Henning.” ** You know me, then,” remarked Fred, * Reckon I ought to. Isaw you in Natchez, and heard your name there. I ain’t apt to for- get a man who does me a favor.” ‘*T hope yon will tell me, then, bow I am to get out of this scrape.” ‘* Your only. chance is to ge and stay with me and the old man,” ‘* Who is the old man?” “My dad. We live in a cabin nigh here. Come and pass the night with us, and in the morning I will take you over to Gravelly Bayou.” Fred Henning gave a thankful assent, and they set out through the forest, Saul Stiner leading the way, Fred following, and the great hound bringing up the rear. CHAPTER V. LIFE AND PEATH IN THE SWAMP. SAUL STINER halted at the edge of a sheet of ' water that seemed in the darkness to be a con- _ siderable lake, styled It might, hewever, be more perfect] ins of a large pond, being one of the natural that swampy come. Near the middle of the pond an island was dimly visible, and Fred Hi nuing thought that he could desery in the darkness the outlines of a habitation there. A skiff was there at the swampy shore, which they entered, Fred Henning occupying the stern, and Satan the bow, while Saul pulled them across to the island, There the skiff was hauled up, and they walked a few steps to a low log-cabin, nearly concealed by the luxuriant foliage. No light was visible, nor was there any sound of life within the rude structure. _ Saul Stiner took a large key from his ket. ‘We have locks bere,” said he, ‘and some- times I lock the old man up when I go away. He gets kinder queer now and then.” They entered the house, Satan bringing up the rear, and Saul closed the door and bolted it with a heavy wooden bar. Although no iight had been visible from without, the interior of the cabin was fairly illuminated by a coal-oil lamp on a large and stout table. There was but one room in the cabin, and but Pe % +o * * A ad eo ‘ ' —— z * sufficiency of decent and durable furniture. including a book-case pretty well filled with books. Around the walls, on shelves, hanging from hooks, and variously placed and attached, was a miscellaneous collection of rare and brigbt- plumaged birds, beasts, reptiles and insects, stuffed, dried and otberwise prepared and pre- served, and on the table wasa Sertebns blue heron, in process of being mounted, At the broad fireplace an old man was stoop- ing, engaged in stirring out a little bed of coals: from the ashes, He was dressed in garments of butternut jeans, stoutly made, but very ill fitting, and when be quickly arose and sharply turned his head around, he was seen to be a withered old man, witb very bright eyes, and a keen, suspi- cious expression of countenance. ‘* What does this mean?’ he gruffly demand- ed, ‘‘ What company is this? Did I say you might bring company here, Saul?” ‘* This is the gentleman who helped me when I was in trouble at Natchez,” answered the oung swamp sucker. “I found him in treuble 1ere, and have helped him in my turn. He bad lost his way in the swamp, and Satan founda bim,” ‘And what was a gentleman of his sort: doing in the swamp after dark?’ ** He lost bis way, dad, He was trying to get: down to the Delarosse plantation.” “Oho! Hunting Leon Delarosse? And what will be see when he finds him? <A puff of wind! A swelled-up, stuck-up specimen of our sweet- scented aristocracy! Bah! And what is your name, young gentleman?” ‘Fred Henuing,” answered the owner of the name. ‘*And what is your business, any?” ‘You don’t ought to be so inquisitive, dad,” remarked Saul. F.ush Fred’s quick insight must have taught him that he was in company where plain speak- ing would be understood and appreciated, ‘‘T am a gambler by profession. I play cards for a living.” ‘* You are?” joyfully exclaimed the old man. ‘‘Tam glad to see you—powerful glad to see you. I used to be counted a good hand at more games than one; but I am rusty now, as Saul con’t care for cards. I like your looks, too. Sit right down, and make .yourself at home. My son, you must make Satan acquainted with this gentleman.” Saul whispered to the great hound, pointing at Fred Henning. Satan walked to the stranger, with a really friendly and familiar look in his eyes, placed bis big paws on Fred’s knees, and raised himself so that the dog’s face was level with that of the if you have man. 7 There he stood, his red tongue banging out of kis open mouth, bis great black face beaming with intelligence, and his long tail wagging vigorously. ‘*He has got you down fine now, Mr. Hen- ning,” said Saul. ‘‘He could pick you out of the biggest crowd on the darkest night, and he wants you to understand that you are a friend of his.” ‘‘He isa magnificent fellow,” replied Fred, “and I am very glad to be numbered among his friends. He may be sure that I will never go back on him.” The old man bad again given his attention to the fire, and had started a blaze, to which he added some sticks, By the time Ssul had rolled up bis sleeves and wasbed his hands there was a useful fire on the hearth, and the young man speedily and def \y proceeded to cook some bacon and corn bread, and to clear and set the table. Flush Fre’, after the dog bad left him, was attracted by the specimens on the walls, which he examined attentively. ‘*T see some very fine work here,” said he, ‘*T would like to know which one of you does it and whether it is for his own amusement.” ‘Saul is agood boy,” answered the old man. ‘He likes to hunt those things and to fix them up, and he gets pretty well paid for them, too.” “T might find him plenty of customers for such work as that, and for such specimens as these,” remarked Fred. ‘*Oh, be bas his regular customers, who are glad enough to get the things, and he makes money enough for us two to live on, as we live. Saul is a good boy, a very good boy. “But it ought to pay him well—such work as this. It ought tobe better than showing rat- tlesnakes in Natchez, and I hope he won’t do that any more,” “You may bet high that I won't,” Saulan- - swered for himself, ‘Now, Mr, Henning, sup- per is ready, such as it is.” | The supper would not have tempted any but a hungry man; but Saul Stiner’s father brought out from some mysterious recess a bottle of Madeira wine, which he opened ane set before his guest, “ Fred Henning considered himself a connoisseur in wines, He sampled the best that could be procured on the Western rivers and in the comigbooks dre A . 4 LaF 5 rats ‘F e? ] () Cc ; wy - ‘See + — | ee —- ~- = ~ es ee tia. — aa << “2 1 6eet -~ > st —_ —