Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 302 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

- — — , Set ei a aa A - a? : if a4 as ' : ' . 2 ell) - ' ~ a Se! =< ; a, We al v ee Be 4 5 ie i ie J df bs : Ay i ws : * t a, : * F | ha a “% 4 4 4 > i . o ' a5 i?» " w $ - bi Lisi ae - * '¥ h fi ‘ Pe. tha « So eas < iti a [We : , fy 7 | a f “th. ede . it d 7 bd 7 Q He had much to think over. stern resolve. ’ 7 ~elum ae much risk of eeereey Faro Saul, the Handsome Hercules. “No ea shall interrupt us until you are willing to meet them, be sure of that, sir.” ‘Thanks! You’re a good boy, Milo; a fine fellow, worthy as any mere mortal ever can be of my darling. You love her, too; and her heart 1s bound up in you, lad, so completely that I fear it would kill ber to lose you now.” ‘*That will never be,” was the grave response. ‘Matters have gone too far for any change from the future we have laid out. She is mine —Iam hers. It is all said in those words.” ‘‘So I would have said this morning, but now— Look here, lad!” leaniog still further for- ward, with one curved palm guiding the sibil- ant words. ‘‘That devil will tear her from us both, unless we strike before he can deal his blow! You are young, strong, skillful—I am too old and my hands are too weak to cope with him su ly. Kill him, and Zurilla is all yours!” “Whom do you mean, Mr. Tudor?” slowly asked Vincent. “The snake—the creeping devil fresh from Hades!” ‘*-You mean Saul Oberlin?’ Marcus Tudor pressed the tip of a forefinger to his lips and cast a swift glance around them, then muttered eagerly: ‘Mention no name, for your life! He isa subtle, cunning devil, and for all we know may be lying near at hand, listening to us now! No names—but, kill him! He will never relax his grip of steel while the faintest breath of life re- mains in his vile carcass! Kill him! Cut his dlack heart out and trample if under your feet until the faintest pulsation is forever crushed out of it! Then, come to me, and claim your re- ward! the richest mortal man ever won bY r- rs tae | an act of noble daring—my Zurilla!” Despite himself—despite the fact that he knew Marcus Tudor was, at that moment. absolutel unaccountable for his words— Milo Vincent felt a powerful repulsion for the man who thus placed murder as the price of the hand of his only child. But stifling this feeling as quickly as possible, he reached out and firmly clasped the hot, trembling hand of the mine-owner, say- ing slowly, distinctly: ‘Father, tell me what has passed between Faro Saul and you since I have been absent. What power has he over you?” **It’s a lie! a lie, false as the father of lies himself!” snarled tho wretched man, tearing his band free and cowering back in bis chair. ‘* You have no right tosay that. Go, and leave me! I meant nothing—I was only joking! Go—go!” Vincent arose and stepping to the door, called Zurilla. When she came, he clasped ber to his breast, whispering: “I fear he father is on the point of falling very ill. I will goand send the doctor as soon possible. He has taken a sudden dislike to and bids me begone.” as L \ mm Oh, Milo!” sobbed the poor girl. ‘‘ And only a little while ago we were so happy: the future seemed so bright and full of peace; while now— v . She hid her head on his bosom, sobbing pain- lly. “lt is only a Y once cloud, dearest,” sooth- ingly uttered Vincent, smoothing her hair gently. ‘“‘It will soon float by, and all will shine more perfectly for the ef contrast. Cheer up, pet, and show yourself a brave little woman. Get him to bed—you and aunty—and I will have the doctor call. But remember, if I am needed ina burry—if anytbing happens th eras to see me at once—hang out the Sand and I will be with you immediately.” hat are you two whispering about there?” sharply cried the mine-owner. ‘* Even my own household are SopepiTi og against me! Get out, I tell you lad! gone! Ill send if I want you v With a parting kiss, Milo Vincent pa sed ‘through the open window and strode rapidly toward town. Trials and enigmas were pouring upon him from all direc- tions. But bis strong teeth set themselves firm- ly, and bis broad shoulders squared themselves us bis fists clinehed and his eyes gleamed with Look out, ye who are plotting against him and his love! If the collision ever comes, it Will be a fight to the death. sa ptt like this was surging through that 7: __——)" “ t ; - t,o * brain as Milo Vincent hastened along the way which led to the thicker portion of the scattered minving-cam», when be suddenly halt- ed, ny te back a pace or two, one hand drop- ing to his ready revolver. He received a sharp low on the breast, and felt some small object drop to the ground at his feet; but he never cast a look after this until he satisfied himself that there was no living person or object to be seen before him. - All around him were scattered rocks and little of shrubbery amidst which an enemy could easily lie hidden, or steal rapidly away through tbe deepening twilight without running and knowing this, Milo stooped and picked up the missile, a small stone ped wrap in Ms aoe -He open his and saw that it contained writing in a perfectly strange band, Dim though the light was, his keen eyesight was able ys : i ’ > ’ —- —— to make out the words, without address or sig- nature, Thus they ran: “Give over your hopes of winning 71rilla Tudor— so callied—for a wife, if you would avert death from yourself and ruin from her. A word to the wise should be sufficient.” With a bard smile that showed his white teeth, Milo Vincent folded the paper and placed it in his note-book, then cast a keen glance around him as he drew his revolver and turned the cylinder on its pin, to make sure it was in order for use, Then he walked briskly on, to find the doctor, CHAPTER XI. A HARD HORSE TO CURRY. ‘‘THat’s fer Jim ye butchered, devil roast e!’ screamed the rough as he saw the figure of paphroditus Weatherwax plunge headlong, through the little cloud of flame-tinted smoke. ‘*Tll riddle ye like a sifter, an’ carve ye to dog- meat!” With sharp cries of alarm the crowd broke and scattered to eitber side, leaving all clear between and around tbe two men, seemingly in a panic; yet there were brave men and bold among the number, too. But there is something in a surprise of this sort that *“‘ takes the starch out of” the best of men for the first few breaths, and recognizing death in those bloodshot eyes and that murder- ous-mad visage, one and all thought only of get- ting out of the direct line of fire in the shortest possible time. As he gave utterance to that sanguinary threat, the burly tough leaped forward, cocking his pistol for a shot at the prostrate figure, bis left hand flashiug forth a long, ugly-looking bowie-knife from the sheath which hung at his hip. Beyond a doubt he meant to literally fulfill his mad threat, but before his heavily-shod feet touched the floor after that first fierce leap, there came a sudden and startling change which none, much less himself, were expecting. With the elasticity of a rubber ball, Epaph- het Lag mel agp - sooner rea Ba oor than he sprung partly erect again, flingin the beavy glass tumnbler which had ust emptied of whisky when that wild cry called bis attention to the brother of the dead road-agent, straight and swiftas a lightning bolt at the head of the rougb. “Tit fer tat—an’ how d’ye like it, ye howlin’ hyeeny?” squealed the ancient, as he made a sidelong leap to one side to avoid the anticipat- ed shot. It came, but was harmless, expending its force on the wall behind the counter, for the whirling glass struck the rough fairly in the center of his face, crashing to atoms, knocking bis bead back and fairly lifting bim clear of his feet. A horrible curse, yell and groan, all mingled together, came through the sound of splintering glass, and ood his weapons, the stricken man Clasped both bands to his injured face as he at the entire building with his tremendous all. ‘* Down goes your apple-cart, an’ ef ye don’t spill all your peaches, m gwine tohev asquar’ meal—you hear me /”’ snarled Old Pap Weath- erwax, leaping forward and kicking knife and istol into the corner, then tearing away the lt of arms and hurling them through the open door. Then, facing the startled crowd, a cocked re- volver in each hand, his eyes blazing with hon- est indignation, one foot planted heavily upon the prostrate form of his ruffianly assailant, the ancient pealed forth bis red-hot defiance: “The king-pin down, an’ I'm good fer the rest o’ the p’izen gang! Put up or shetup! One at a time or the hull inv’ice in a boodle—come an’ see your Uncle Fuller! ‘*Notber sit 0’ fickness comin’ on, an’ I’m ele King Death on a howlin’ jamboree! Forty foot scythe an’a hour-glass with on’y two grains o’ sand into it! kin scalp the heels of a thousan’ sech dirty whelps at a swing, an’ not hafe try! Next, durn ye!’ Those eyes seemed balls of living fire as they ranged swiftly from one face to another, look- ing for a sign of nt ope, the fallen rough. Looks, voice, manner and all showed how ready the ancient was to méet bis foes, be they how many they might, and in that moment all doubts as to bis “ grit” fled forever from the minds of those who heard and saw him. ‘‘Not a durn one ready fer to take up a posish on the anxious seat?” cried the old man, shaking back his shaggy locks with a half-fierce, half-contemptuous laugh. ‘“‘ Must I turn my back fer you to pluck up sand enough to pull on a ole man who’s got one foot in the grave an’ t’other ’ne dead long ago? Ain’t they one in the hull crowd’s got tongue long enough fer to speak up? Be ye cowards, from biggest to littlest?” As he uttered these scornful sentences, the blazing eyes of Old Pap Wentherwax seemed to dwell longest upon a truly Herculean form among the others; and with a slight flush ting- ing his evil but handsome face, ped a trifle forward, though his bands remained emp rapidity of thought itself. ‘proved bimself a man, in every ty as those pistols covered him with the “You want to go a little slow, uncle,” he said, bis voice deep and not without a certain menace in its tones that the crowd was not slow to recognize, as was indicated by their unanimous parting once more. ‘* Nobody’s go- ing to hurt you—’ ‘Not while I'm to the fore!” cried a clear, ringing voice, as Milo Vincent strode into the room, his good right hand armed. “ Don’t think that Good Enough is composed even in part of such dirty whelps, old man! He’s only a gambling bummer who—” aro Saul turned white as a corpse, his black eyes filling with a terrible light, as be hissed savagely: “Careful, Milo Vincent! Pick your words with a little more care, or you may find your bands full of business!” The foreman faced the giant sport without the slightest truce of fear or exciteinent in face or voice; but those who retained sufficient cool- ness to take notes, saw that be stood with his pistol so that the slightest tarn of bis wrist would suffice to give him a thought-shot at the gambler, long before that wortby, skillful and quick as he was, could draw a weapon. “Do you take up the cudgels in defense of Tom Jobnson, then?’ he sharply demanded. Saul flushed hotly, and his usually ready tongue blundered a little as he managed to make reply: ‘* Johnson—I thought you meant—” “If I did not speak with sufficient distinct- ness before, I will now,” said Vincent, deliber- ately, as Faro Saul hesitated. “This old man is a stranger in Enough. To-day he t, and is entitled to the respect and good-will of every decent citizen. For that reason, and to guard egainst his forming an evil opinion of our town, I said that he must not judge a)l bv the action of Tom Johnson, a drunken, wortbless, gamblirg bummer and dead-beat, I chanced to be an eye- witness of his assault, and none but a coward and the associate of cowards, would be guilty of such an act. He has justly forfeited bis life, and if my friend chooses to take it, I'll back bim against whoever objects for all I’m worth, be it one man or a score!” At this juncture the fallen wretch began to struggle beneath the pressure of the ancient’s foot, and the latter created a diversion by cry- ing out in a whimsical tone: ‘Lay still, ye equarmin’ riptyle, while the ole man talks to ye like a Dutch uncle! What fer did bg try to bu’st me in the bugle from ahind without even givin’ mea tickle to say I was in your ’tater-row? Which it’s right thar ye made the dirty mistake. I’m the most ’com- modatin’est critter you ever hear tell on, an’ ef you'd come up an’ said to me with honey on our tongue an’a bit o’ good musk into your reath, that the airth bedn’t room on it fer the all-tw~o-both on us, the ole man would ’a’ shuck . ed off his boots an’ tuck a free skoot up the golden ladder without a grunt or a objec’—he’s so durned a’commodatin’ when you rub him the way o’ the ha’r! ‘But you didn’t. You crup’ up ahind an’ giv’ a screech that’d set the teeth of a cross-cut saw on aidge, an’ made me pour a snift’ o’ whisky down my Sunday thrapple in the burry to save it—fer I’m a howlin’ liar ef I didn't think it was ole Gabriel pullin’ in his breath fer to toot the gittin’-up born o’ last ‘lection-day! ““An’ then you tried fer to sink a mineral- shaft into my front yard, without runnin’ a line, plantin’ a post or stickin’ up your name, witb the title o’ the lode an’ date o’ diskivery as made an’ pervided fer by law. All o’ which wasn’t enough, but you must run your durred bullet-bead ag’inst a tumbler which I s’pose I’ll hev to pay fer—durn ye, anyhow!” This **lame and impotent conclusion” drew a yell of laughter from many of the spectators, ut evident y Tom Johnson did not look at the matter as a Jaughable one, for he snarled: ‘You butchered my brother Jim, an’ [1] drink your beart’s blood for it, if ever I git up ag’in, cuss ye, body an’ boots!” ‘‘You bain’t swore to that effec’, hev ye?” drawled Pap. *“ By his blood!” ‘‘That settles it, then!” and the ancient promptly removed bis heavy foot from the back of the bleeding wretch, leaping lightly back a pace and standing erect with folded arms. ‘I never tole a lie my own self, an’ it’s a rule o’ wine to never make a man, be be fri‘nd or inemy, commit parjury ef I kin holp it. Git up you, an’ prepar’ to squinch your thu’st honey!” Slowly the burly ruffian ciambered to his feet, swaying a little unsteadily as he brushed the clotted gore from his gashed and bruised te staring around with a slightly bewildered air. “ This way, purty lad,” croaked the cncient, with a squint of his wicked eye and twist to his mouth that caused a grim chuckle to run through a portion of the crowd. ‘Shall I pin back my years an’ soap my bead afore you be- aro Saul step- | gin your great an’ onequaled feat o’ swallera- tion? Ef so, or ef they is anythin’ else in the wide world ye want, jest holler fer it! Lord love ye, honey! I’d do’most anythin’ in or out Gomicbooks co