Beadle's Dime Library, Vol. III, No. 29 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

Tiger Dick, the Faro King. the river and matted with weeds and sand; the face—ah! what had once been a face, now all torn and mutilated by fiendish violence, a livid horror! At sight of that the crowd began to surge and sway. Dark frowns contracted beetling- brows; fierce gleams kindled in bloodshot eyes; and om- ap murmurings of vengeance passed from lip to ip. Among the crowd was a blue-shirted roustabout who had that morning been discharged from one of the river boats. He stood over six feet high, with a villainous face, rendered still more hideous by a scar that seamed his cheek from temple to chin. A tangied mass of black hair, falling from beneath a dilapidated straw hat, and shaggy black brows, made up the picture of a proper leader for this villainous crowd in any deed of violence. . “T tell yer what it is, feller-citizens,’’ he cried, drawing himself up to his greatest hight and glar- ing around on the mob, * it was a black-hearted cuss that passed in that feller’s checks fur him!” His pointing finger drew every eye to the mangled form onthe grass. Waiting for his wordsand gesture to have their due effect, he suddenly cried, in a voice of thunder, while his ‘burning glances passed from face to face: ‘Ty he among us ?” So startling was the effect that every man drew back and glanced at his neighbor. ‘“No, it was a rich man’s son,” volunteered a voice. ‘* Hah! the rich, that build stone jails for poor men to live in!’ hissed the giant. “He would ’a' let two honest b’yes hang in his place, the blagg’ard!”’ yelled the Irishman, “Where are they? Show ’em up!” eried voices from the crowd. 7 Here they be, as smilin’ as twin roses, the beg- gars!’ ‘““Up wid ‘um. Let’s see their mugs!” was the cry. There was a scuffiing movement in the crowd, and the two “‘ honest b’yes ’ appeared above the heads of the rest, supported on the shoulders of their enthu- siastic partisans, their villainous countenances broad- ened Py grim smiles of triumph. They were saluted by wild yells and cheers and tossing of hats. ‘*Whurroo! the divils!—the patent leather gints couldn’t hang ‘um, bad ‘cess to the murdtherin’ thaves!”’ ‘“* Feller-citizens,’’ yelled the roustabout, finding that the interest was wandering from himself, ‘* does honest men stand idle and see a feller-man butcher- ed in cold blood, and do nothin’? ** Never!” whooped a chorus of voices. ‘Do they leave the red-handed murderer to the judges and lawyers, to be bought off and shuffled out o’ the country, while his dead victim is chucked inter a hole to rot and be forgotten?” -** No, never! never!” *“What does honest men do—men that wants ter sleep safe in their beds o’ nights?” “Hang him!” ‘“* Draw and quarter the black-hearted villain!” ef String him up to the nearest tree!” ‘** Men!” yelled the {arse silencing the wild tumult his voice had evoked—‘ men! here’s the dead and cheep victim—the murderer is hidin’ in yonder With one finger he pointed to the motionless body and stretched out his other arm in the direction 0 the city. A deathiike silence fell upon the crowd the calm before the bursting of a storm-cloud; an in that moment of stillness he vociferated one word in clarion tones: ** Away!” There was a wild surging in the crowd, a Pande- monium of discordant cries, and then they poured down the bluff in a mad stream, goading each other to frenzy by vengeful yells. forte op the quiet suburbs, into the busier streets, to the door of the jail they rushed, arming them- selves with cudgels and stones as they went. The leader took forcible possession of a rope that hung in front of a store. Mr. Prescott, supported by the turnkey, detective ‘a and a policeman, appeared on the steps of the waste a-here, men,’’ he shouted, “‘what do you a We want the murderer!” ., And we're a-goin’ ter have him!” ‘Hand out the bloody cutthroat!” “Whoop! Let *im hang, as he’d’a’ hung two of ae § re b’yes as ever were merry over a bottle ’o een!’’ “Trot him out, the lily-fingered dandy! Let’s see if rich men hang like poor men!” “IT say, men,” again vociferated the chief of police, ‘you'd better go home and mind your own business. ve the law alone, or some of you will get more than you bargain for.” “That's the way they talk it—breakin’ stone fur onest poor men, an’ dainty dinners an’ keerages fur rich murderers!’ :, — up yer old pertater-trap, ur we'll stuff it with rocks!’ “Show up the murderer, ur we'll tear down yer old stone shanty !”’ **Look-ahere, Mr, Prescott, we don’t want ter hurt you; but we want that butcher of honest men, and we're a-goin’ to have ‘im!”’ ae Whoop! drag *im out o’ ther shebang!” “Fetch ’im out on two chips!” **No more palaver! Inwe go! Stand aside you what don’t want ter git hurt!” It was the giant roustabout who spoke, and flour- ishing the rope in one hand and a ristol in the other, = began mounting the steps that led to the jail oor. ‘““Whurrs0! come on, an’ we’ll snatch the face off the bloody thafe o’ the worruld!”’ yelled the defender of “honest b’yes” at his heels. “*Keep off there, you devils!” shouted the chief of police, with drawn revolver; but a shower of stones and the whistling of several bullets from the crowd warned him of the danger of himself and_his little band, and he withdrew into the house and secured the door, ‘*Pass up an ax here an’ we'll pull the shebang down about their ears,’’ cried the roustabout. The implement was ig from a woodpile near at hand, and the vigorous blows of the giant soon beat in the frail barrier. : ; “Hurrah! Forward, men!’’ he cried, leaping over Z > ee debris, followed by a jostling crowd of eager ruf- fians. The door gave them admittance to the part of the jail occupied by the turnkey’s family. Some of the rioters, seeing a chance for plunder, scattered among the rooms, securing whatever they could secrete about their persons. Others, headed by the roust- about, kept on to the grated door which separated the jail proper from that part occupied as a dwell- ing. ie chief of police, detective Smith, the police- man, the turnkey and his family had retreated be- hind this barner, , _“* Mr, Prescott.” said the turnkey, “ this is a pretty tight box. We have our duties to ourselves, and here are these innocent women and children that ain’t to be sacrificed trying to protect a man whose guilt is wetty clear. I don’t say but what we ought to stick xy him to a reasonable extent; but I don’t believe we are in duty bound to risk our own necks for him. I move that we surrender.” “But these ragamuffins mustn't be let to run over us roughshod, as if there was no law in the land,"’ expostulated the chief of Sere whose blood was up. “Curse em! PH let daylight through some of ‘em if they try to pass that grating.” The distinction between Dan Prescott and the ‘‘ragamuffins whom he held in such contempt was, that he had made money selling whisky on River street, and being something of a demagogue had wormed his way to the high and mighty office of chief of police. His qualifications for the office lay in the adage: ‘Seta thief to catch a thief.’ That his quondam fellow “ragamuffins” should forget the sanctity of his august position, and trample un- der foot the law which he represented, galled him pe ety Ee his choler. Mr. scott,’’ said the detective, ‘I think I must enter my protest with Mr. Turnkey. These women and children must not be made to incur the rage of the mob, hightened by a useless resistance. They’re bound to come, and we can’t help ourselves.” “Well, gentlemen, you outvote me. Do as you ae But remember that I proposed to stick by he law. I wash my hands of the whole business.” By this time the rioters were rattling at the gate. Waving a handkerchief in token of a desired par- ley, the turnkey advanced to the inside of the grat- ing. a Gents,” he said, “‘ we folks in here airarmed, and might make it pretty tough work fur you to elt in; but we don’t want to shed no blood in this here af- fair, fightin’ over a man what’s guilty o’ murder—” ‘That's the way to talk it, old hoss! You're right; he’s guilty o’ murder! Jest hand him out, an’ we won't hev no more talk,” interrupted one of the as- sailants. ** Jest you keep your shirt on until I git through, Bill Jones,’ said the turnkey, with some show of as- pied “As I was sayin’, we've got some women in ere what's got to be respected, or some one will be carried out feet first!” “We don’t care nothin’ about yer women. Just let us clap our claws on this here fine gentleman murderer, and we'll vamose the ranch right smart.” “All right. Jest give us time to git the women folks in the other ward,” “Open the dure, ye dirthy blagg’ard!”’ roared an impatient one, seeing the turnkey going away, and having heard the ape Nesta e matters were being explained to him, the frightened women and children were hurried by the grating in making the transit of which they were greeted by a Comanche war-whoop by the crowd out- side. Then the defenders of the jail ranged them- selves with drawn weapons across the lead- ing into the ward into which they had gone, leaving open the one where Fred was confined. Then the bolt was shot, the turnkey sprung back among his friends, and the mob poured into the pas- sage, The weapons of the turnkey and party kept a free space before them; and the rioters swept down the other corridor. Arriving at Fred's cell they found it locked, and began to shake the grated door violently, with yells and curses, glaring upon him with bloodshot eyes and gnashing teeth, like very demons, -” 1 the down!”’ ‘* Hand him out here, till we give him a close-fittin’ collar!” ‘Trot him along!" ‘““Whoo! the divil! He’d let two honest b’yes hang for ‘um, would he?” “Pass along a crowbar. We'll soon unearth him.” **No, no; the keys.” ‘‘ Where air the keys?”’ “Why the blazes don’t ye trot ‘im out!” “Seratch that turnkey baldheaded! What's he done with the keys?” ‘Fetch “im out on two chips!’ yelled the face- tious individual, who had proffered the same petition before. ‘*Here’s the keys. Now snake ‘im out o’ that like reased lightnin’ 5) The done swung open and the mob rushed in. The father was swept aside and fell fainting in a corner, to be trampled on by the rage-blinded de- mons, Fred fought with the frantic energy of despair; but a stone thrown from the corridor rendered him almost unconscious, and he was pounced upon and securely bound. if We've got him.” “Back out o’ there! And the roustabout, in the excitement of the mo- ment, emphasized his command by vigorously punching some of Re poe neighbors, who were ressing upon him too closely. - Slowly the crowd yielded, looking back to assure eaientien of the actual ession of the A ae and when Fred was dragged into the corridor his a pearance was greeted by a series of demoniac how an ans, Out of the jail into the street the the father stunned and bleeding in cell. At the door of the jail grew a gigantic oak, and a would-be h an was ady astride one of the lower limbs, adju the rope that dangled to the ground. Ready hands grasped one end of the rope, while others ran a noose in the other end. ‘ ‘*Pass him along! Here's a collar cut to fit! “Let him dance a hornpipe on nothin’! “Stretch his cussed neck!” assed, leaving , corner of the "com 21 _— et Up she goes! He-yo!” ‘**Stop yer cussed bawlin’! We're a-goin’ ter take ‘im ter Dead Man’s Bluff, ter see his victim, if this child knows anything about it,” There was a kind of poetical justice in this that appealed to every mind; and the proposition was received by a general yell of approval. Out from the busy heart of the city into the quiet suburbs, from many of the dwelling-kouses of which women had fled in terror, they passed—out by the very home of their hapless victim. May was aroused from the stupor into which she had fallen by the hideous uproar that was approach- ing the house. With tottering knees, yet supported by excitement, she dragged herselt ‘to a window; and there amid that wildly-gesticulating thron she saw a man, hatless, coatless, his face covere with blood and dirt, his eyes PS psi with ter- ror, and foam standing on his Jips; on either hand a ruffian supported him by his arms, bound behind his back; and around his neck a rope at which a hundred hands were dragging, while others held back to prevent him from being choked to death before the time. One moment she gazed at that ghastly face, at the hair blowing in the wind, and then, with her hand to her head, sunk lifeless to the floor. CHAPTER XXII. JUDGE LYNCH, FLORENCE GoLpTHOR?P was in a pitiable state when Charles Brewster helped her into the carriage. He followed her, and taking up the reins, drove directly to her home. “Oh, Mr. Brewster!” she said, “is he guilty? Have they proof?” Somehow it was easier to believe him guilty of an impulsive, unpremeditated murder, smarting un- der a sense of in ury, than of cold, calculating for- gery. “T fear there can be scarcely a doubt of his hav- ing committed the act; but it must have been ina moment of passion, and unintentional,”’ ** Oh, thank you, Mr. Brewster. You always under- stand Frederick, 'He never meant to do it, I know. But if he had only waited—if he had only waited! We should have cleared him—I know we should. But now it is too late. Oh, that he should have done such a deed!” She covered her face with her hands, and wept and moaned. : Charley could not comfort her. His own heart was full. He was thinking of the look May had given him when he announced the death of her over; and it wrung his heart to think of her feel- ings when she learned that her own brother was the murderer, He parted with Florence at the door of her home, and then went to Dead Man's Bluff. _He was at the landing when the boat brought its dreadful load to the shore. He gazed into the face of the dead, or into what had been a face, and shuddering, sighed. ‘*Poor May! She can never look upon him. It would kill her, And to think that her own brother should do it! He must have gone insane, or he never could have mutilated him so. Well, Cecil has ac- complished his work. No one could wish one more abject than Fred. He has crushed him, but at the eg of his own life,” e was awakened from his meditations by the vengeful turn the crowd had taken. He saw what was coming, but too lateto take measures to prevent the catastrophe. He set out for the city, borne along in the rush of the mob, Meanwhile Florence had sent a manto Dead Man's Bluff, charged to eee her the intelligence when the body was found. Then she went to bed, over- come by the events of the past two days. Tt was while tossing on a bed of suffering, that news was brought her of the awful peril that threatened her lover. At the announcement, all her weakness left her. She arose and dressed, and ordered her saddle horse. Mounting, she set out toward the city, with no planof action, only that she must save him. ut what could her weak arm avail against the frenzied mob that was dragging him to his doom? Onward, onward, ever hearing the fatal spot where lay his victim! and the wild frenzy rising higher and higher, as they drew near! Along the river bank and up the blutf, until they stood on the dread spot, and the murderer was forced to look upon the work of his own hands! Then the discordant yells of vengeance and the dan rope! 9 Fang hin up here, an’ no more foolishin’ |” “Hold on, pard; the cove's got ter have a fair trial. It won't cure one murder to commit another. The thing’s got to be done ‘cordin’ ter law. Who air ye oin’ ter have fur Judge Lynch?” By Lynch be blowed! We know he's guilty, an’ that’s enough. Trot him right along. Money don’t go down with us. He’s got ter swing like a Peo ook wh friend, ai in’ t ‘ a-here, m end, air ye goin’ ter take it on yourself ter be ud e, jury, witnesses an’ hangm all ter one’t? That's jest what we want ter be informe about,” said the roustabout, with a menacing frown. ‘“Cuss yer law! What we want is justice. A man's been oh er here, and somebody's got ter swing, sarta ‘You look like a slap-up specimen, you do; but if yon want ter jump right up onter my muscle, you'd tter say this cuss hain’t goin’ ter have a fair and square trial. That's jest what sort of a man I am— you can put up or shut up!” the other showed no desire to “jump upon the papa of the roustabouter, he turned to the crowd + Who's goin’ to be Judge Lynch in this here trial?’ I go my pile on you. Treckon you're the man fer the place,” said one, and the rest joined in a vo- ciferous acclaim. “All right, gents. Trot out yer witness.” * bi fisherman was led forward, half frightened to eath. : ‘*Look a-here, pard,” said the roustabout, with a frown that was anything but reassuring, ‘‘do you eel : that this is the kid what run by you “That's him, yer honor, so help mé God!” sputter- SRST EES iw in: grant - ess that settles the ma don’t i nts?** asked the “judge.” n& _.“‘Oh, yes; we know a heap more’n we did afore,” JOO (E <SiGO