Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 302 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

» we ee ae ee er Oe ee oe ee eee ee — . 12 Faro Saul, the Handsome Hercules, figures with which the top of the stage was laden. And well they might, for not only did fresh blood mark the garments worn, but a dozen little rills had flowed from beneath the ghastly mass and trickled down the sides of the coach, " ge ore | fer Good Enough!” suddenly yelled Don Bobtail, leaping to his feet and tossing his battered hat high into the air as be found it im- possible to longer repress his swelling pride, ‘**This day she gits her ‘jority an’ kin vote witb- out any dirt galoot darin fer to say black is the white o’ her eye, ho sais we ain’t a full- blowed city? ho wants to spit out a slur ag’in’ the Queen Bee o’ the Foothills? Who wants fer to hint at dead duck, er any sech low-down didoes? Who? Trot him out, an’ ef Don Bob don’t ram-jam the howlin’ lie an’ stinkin’ slander dowmbis gullet so fur it'll crowd his boots off, then I want to be a hunk o’ gum fer an’ old maid’s horsepittle!” In his glorious excitement Don Bob forgot where he was; and as he ended, he made. one proud prance too mg pm stepping over the end of the footboard and plunging downward with a wild yell, that ended in a sonorous grunt. Fortunately for his valuable neck, his fall was broken by the miners who flocked around the coach to view the ghastly load on its top, and Don Bob, resolved not to be cheated out of one iota of his glory, scrambled back to his perch, spluttering: ‘*Gents an’ feller-citizens! len’ me your ears, an’ ef I don’t fill’em chuck-full o’ somethin’ that knocks the socks of* o’ taffy on a rag, then I don’t want a cent!” *‘ Augh! bite it off, an’ give us the essence in one swallow!” cried one, irreverent wretch, whose impatience blinded him to the rights of ‘the worthy Don Bob. ‘* Tf it’s one swallow that'll satisfy the likes o’ you, Dab-chick, the sooner you send for a priest to shrive you the easier your friends ’!l rest this ht, for sure the change is so sudden an’ mighty that es never see the sun rise ag’in, so you won’t, honey !” retorted Don Bob. ‘‘ Stow a mule in that ugly tunnel o’ yours, an’ listen while your betters talk ‘*Gents, all! Here you see a bull circus ona band-waggin, with the ring-master an’ the clown inside! in the ’mortal languidge of some feller or other: we come, we saw, an’ here we be, with more cold meat than you kin shake a stick at! All tuck in honest, up-an’-down fightin’ by— Thar’s one 0’ the blushin’ heroes, now!” he abruptly spluttered, as the door of the coach opened and Milo Vincent stepped to the und. The face of the handsome foreman was pale where it showed through the stains of dust and dried blood, which, with his torn and disordered nts, plainly spoke of rough work. He cast a swift glance over the crowd, and his blue eyes filled with a vivid light as he met one pair of dark ide amid the gathering. Att busy murmur rose, and a dozen voices were Bp lifted in eager questions, while the crowd push- ed and swayed, each one desiring to better his.| position for hearing and see‘ng. Hut all was still when Milo Vincent uplifted a hand, motioning impatiently. “ Gentlemen, if you will allow me, I’llexplain briefly. We were beld up by a_gang of road- nts, at the foot of Crooked Elbow Pass, and hee a little powder-burning we came on in fair order. How the road-agents fared, you can guess from the sign on top of the stage. Only one—the chief—got away. ) ‘‘ You know wholam. You know that Iam responsible for whatI say. I pledge you my word of honor as a man that we had to kill or be killed. You will meet with a serious sur- prise when you come to examine the bodies of the dead, and may have hard feelings toward those who killed them; but remember that they were seeking to plunder and slay—that they were all securely masked, so that an own brother could not have recognized them, _ “ Wait a bit,” he added, hastily, as several of the party seemed about to scale the sides of the coach. ‘ I will pay all costs of piving the dead roper burial, if any or all of them are not atned by friends. And, in conclusion, permit me to add that I am ready at any time to give any further explanation which may be deemed essential.’ ‘4 With a low bow, Milo Vincent turned awa and pusbed his way through the excited crowd. But he paused where, himself unseen, he could command both a view of the stage door and the darkly handsome face of the giant gambler, ro Sau Old Pap Weatherwax emerged from the coach, then with elaborate politeness the an- cient assisted Miss S ella Timberlake to alight. Eagerly the eyes of Milo Vincent flashed from the closely-vailed figure to tbe face of Faro Saul; but if he expected to catch any token of recognition ing between the two, he was doomed to disappointment. He watched until Miss Timberlake entered the hotel, then he strode away in the direction of Tudor’s house, as he went muttering be- neath bis voice: ‘‘Can I have made a mistake? Have I e sight of his familiar figure and face, a’ wronged her? It seems so; and yet, I could have taken my solemn oath she was none other than Queen Titania, made up for the oc- casion!’ Never since the first blow of pick sent its echo through the valley where Good Enough now stood in all its glory, bad that sterling mining- camp a sensation equal to this, One by one the masked bodies were lowered to the ground and carried into the ery Mem room of the hotel, careless of the fact that “on, r was just on the point of being spread, Dishes and viands were ruthlessly brushed aside and the dead men were ranged in a ghostly line on the tables. Then,and not until then, were the masks removed and any effort made to pen- etrate their disguise. This was mainly due to the superhuman ef- forts of Don Bob, who, by dint of putting him- self prominently forward, and his oft-repeated pledge to act as lecturer and paint the whole panorama as it occurred, was suffered to carry the affair out in accordance with his idea of fit- ness, And then, when the dead men were conenty ranged on the table, he marshaled the eager citizens, and imploring each man to keep his place in the line and observe common decency, he hastily removed the masks and gave the word for the march to commence. For a few moments all went well, and the proud little driver fairly swelled with pride and dignity, as he stood by, a ype ay the rate of progress; but when the wild cries and startled exclamations of those who recognized the fea- tures of the dead men broke out, all order was flung to the winds. A mad stampede was made by the citizens, Don Bob was rudely hustled aside and thrown down, to be kicked and trod on during that insane scramble. Not one of the seven dead men but what were known to all who looked upon them, and amid the exclamations of surprise and marvel, arose wilder cries—the surging rage and grief of rela- tives or bosom Compania. And more than once there could be heard fierce threats of re- venge—of wilder charges of conspiracy and foul murder done on innocent beings; but these as quickly died away, The sympathies of the large majority were with the slayers, and prudence taught the mourners to say as little as might be, lest the dreaded cry of lynch law should be rained against them. One by one the bodies were claimed and car- ried away by those who were best entitled to care for them, and with each departure the atmosphere seemed to grow clearer. At length only one corpse remained unclaimed, though it was recognized by all, and openly asserted that Good Enough contained a brother to the deceased, By this time the excitement had partially worn its wire edge off, and the hody was car- ried into the saloon to make way for the long: delayed supper. Placed ona card-table, an old coat was flung over the ghastly face, and before long its very presence was forgotten, During. the wild hubbub, Epaphroditus Weatherwax kept himself pretty well under cover, for, as a stranger in Good Enough, he was far from certain how bis recent exploits as a knight of the pestle and pill-box might be received, But as the evening grew along, and Don Bob- tail, having soothed his many bruises by plenti- ful tig ye of whisky, inwardly applied, repeated for the dozenth time his thrilling tale of the attack, the skirmish, the battle and _ vic- tory, painting in lurid colors the doughty deeds of the two champions, there was a general call for Weatherwax. Gingerly enough, that blush- ing hero putin an appearance, though if was for a time doubtful which he would do: face the music, or take a flying leap through the window and make a break ‘‘ for tall timber,” But the enthusiastic reception he received soon set all his doubts at rest, and faithfully punishing the glasses of liquor which were presnes upon him from all sides, the ancient set is nimble tongue at liberty. From that moment poor Don Bob was forced to hide his diminished head and chew bis thumb- nails in s hless envy, for bis poor tongue and fat-laden wits could not begin to keep pace with the spread-eagle fights of that double- hinged word-macbine. o longer blushing— unless it might be with the peculiar glow born of pane lightning—no more the meek and doubting hero, Old Pap Weatherwax gave a complete history of all that was done on that bloody field of battle by himself, by each one of the others, both friends and foes, and even ex- x pate just what each individual thought and elt as well as said or did. Truly, when the whisky is in, gas will out! ‘‘ An’ thar ye hev it, gents an’ feller-citizens, pa ba as a string an’ true as the Book o’ Re- velations! They come, an’ they tackled us, an’ they got jes’ everlastin’ly basted with hot pow- der an’ coldlead! They comeonto us strangers, an’ we tuck ’em in, ’cordin’ to the law an’ gos- l But the fun was over afore it begun. hey wasn’t ’nough o’ the black-avised critters fer to make us one liftle mouthful! We wouldn't ’a’ tackled ’em at all, only we thunk they hed a few hundreds more o’ the same sort: c’ralled out in the bresh, waitin’ to come for- ’ard when we got our teeth set on aidge with the fu’st batch. An’ that’s what made the ole man ’shamed fer to face ye fu’st off. It looked so durned little in a hullsale road-agent ‘nihbila- tor fer to be braggin’ over takin’ in a measly pore hafe dozen o’ the imps—it did so!” Old Pap Weatherwax paused to catch his breath and empty another glass which one of the enthusiastic citizens was urging upon him, and asa feeble sort of forlorn hope, Don Bob- tail Fandango chimed in; “Hope may die ef ‘tain’t mostly as he sais. gents! Never in the hull course o’ my parsonal exper’ence, bey I see’d his ekil fer git up an’ lay right down to it strategy an’ pure grit—never! by, would you think it, feller-citizens 0’ the slam-bang-up-est city this side o’ paradise! When the road-agents fu’st belched out ‘ han’s up,’ ’cordin’ to rule, what does be do, this hon- orable gent from the top notch? Plays ’em fer suckers, he did, gents—hope may die!” In his burning desire to regain his laurels as a fluent and dramatic speaker, Don Bob almost lost his last opportunity, for the wily old hero began to suspect what was in the wind, and with a dignified wave of the hand, said: ‘Let that flea stick by the wall, my noble friind! "Nough is better’n a feast, an’ these gents hes hed a perlite sufficiency—full o’ the ole man an’ his explytes fer once,” But some of the crowd began to suspect theft more lay behind than had as yet been told, and laughingly urged Don Bobon. He was nothing loth to comply, as may readily be guessed. “Ef he didn’t, gents, I’m a howlin’ liar, an? I kin lick ary galoot as looks crossways at the statement, too! What did the great road-agent ’nibilator do, I ax once more? An’ echo whoops ‘er up with ‘Hid body an’ britches onder the seat inside, the better to save—I mean ketch the p'izen critters in a trap!’ That’s what echo sais, gents, all, an’ divil a lie!” ‘* S’pose I did?” indignantly cried the ancient, amid a chorus of laughter. ‘‘S’pose a sudden sit o’ fickness did grab me whar I lived any chuck me onder the seat? Didn’t I eome out ag’in? An’ didn’t I jes’ rake them persimmons from taw?’ The presence of the corpse of the road-agent was forgotten by all that merry crowd gathered before the bar, but there was one man left in Good Enough who had a better memory. And while the two oddities were disputing might and main, a rough-clad, burly fellow stole into the saloon unobserved and strode to where the silent figure lay with hidden face, With a band that trembled like a leaf, he lifted the coat and took one long, mad look at the bullet-marked face. Then the cloth drop- ped to the floor, and his bloodshot eyes flashed toward the laughing crowd. If ever there was death in human eyes, then death, sudden and merciless, glared from those evil orbs as their owner heard the last boast of the old man, “ for all I’m suojee’ to the p’izen spells, didn’t I rekiver in good time, an’ didn’t I snipe ’em in when the ball opened? Whar’s the man that'll say I didn’t?” : ‘You jes’ did, ole pard,” cordially replied Don Bobtail, bis short-lived envy vanishing be- fore the memory of the glorious deeds which had at last set the sign manual of city on the alabaster brow of his beloved Good Erough. ‘““Ef the dead could speak, thar lays one who could thunder out in mighty accents, You jes’ bet your boots on— Goop LAwp!”, He turned to point a finger at the corpse, but ais back as he saw the gaunt figure beside t. **My brother Jim—who killed him?’ snarled the man beside the corpse, Whipping out a re- volver as he spoke, Instinetively the crowd parted, leaving Old Pap alone, and as he turned sharply, the revol- ver rose and exploded, Without a ery or moan, Epaphroditus Wea- therwax plunged forward to the floor, with a dull, heavy thud! CHAPTER X, A SORELY SHAKEN MAN, In those first dreadful moments Zurilla be- lieved her father dead—murdered by the man who flung over bis shoulder those enigmatical et plato y insulting words—and as she sunk on er knees beside bis chair, her brain reeled and rew dizzy with an awful sickness. But only ora brief space did this weakness last, then, with a desperate effort she recovered her power of action, raising her voice in_a sharp cry that brought the fat, sturdy housekeeper to her as- sistance. ‘*He’s bad a stroke, the poor dear!” that as- tute personage decided the moment she gazed upon bis purple, contorted features: but the mere sound of her voice wrought an apparent mi With'a dl te effort M u rate effort Marcus Tudor fought off that frightful, suffocating pressure, lifting bis head an pestle glassily at the woman, as he huskily muttered: ‘What want!—didn't call! Get out, Mat- son!” , The portly housekeeper drew her figure comicbooks.con