Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 302 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

: " ™ * ope Sahl am —— gi i oe 7 eK ye Oe ee Faro Saul, the Handsome Hercules. gling to arise, though clumsily, and leaping | upon him they tore away !is weapons, an stretched him out motionless with another cruel | blow on the skull, How long an interval ela senses returned to bim, Old had no means of knowing or even of guessing. He knew that his senses came back to bim with a tremendous sneeze, for his ears were ringing, his nose tingling, and his eyes filling with water. He could detect a powerfully pungent odor, and winked owlishly as a brilliant light flashed into his eyes. ‘““So! you’ve got back from the evergreen shore, eh?’ rung out a mocking voice, toward which Pap turned his eyes slowly, feeling as though the joints of bis neck had suddenly be- come rusted, ‘*‘How do you like it, as far as you've got, anyway?” Not a sound escaped the lips of the old map. His teeth came coqeins and bis jaws squared themselves, The dazed, bewildered stare in his eyes changed to a steady, concentrated light as they roved swiftly over the form of the speaker. There was nothing else to be seen, for not only was the face hidden beneath a black mask, but a sort of cowl concealed bis hair and there were gloves upon his bands. With these exceptions, the garb of the man was that ordinarily worn by a laborer in the mines—coarse, rough, soiled with dry mud, and spotted here and there with tar or machine-oil. In figure he was of medium hight, apparently built for both strength and activity. From this scrutiny, Pap turned to take a view of himself, as far as that was practi- cable. He was lying on a dry flooring of cement and concrete, in one corner of the room, with bis back propped against the angle formed by tbe meeting walls. His feet were tied togetber, and a slight effort told him that bis wrists and el- bows were secured after the same fashion, though these were out of sight behind bim. ‘*No use there, my dear fellow,” laughed the mask. ‘* We thiak too much of you to take any risks of losing your sweet society. You have made so many warm friends in Good Enough since your arrival, that without these precau- tions, you.might be led to abandon your best well-wishers, and tuus possibly fall into evil company. We feel obliged to guard against any such mishap befalling you, even at the risk of hurting your feelings a trifle.” Tue glib tongue ceased to wag, and the mask gazed keenly through the holes in his mask at his captive, as though expecting an outburst of some sort from bim; but not a word or sound came from those bearded lips. The mask strode forward, balting when just | without arm’s-length of the prisoner, gazing with burning orbs into his face as he spoke jeer- | side! ingly: ‘Nota word? Did the boys tear out your tongue before bringing you here?” - ‘You're playin’ the jassack big enough fer all-two-both on us, so what’s the use 0’ my chip- piv’ in?” ‘““You can talk, then? Good! That's all I wanted to find out,” exclaimed the mask, with a short, hard — ‘* | began to fear the gen- tle love-taps the boys lent you had bereft you of the power of speech, if not of reasoning pow- ers; and that would be a terribly severe blow to us, your sincere admirers and red-hot friends!” ‘‘Ob, you make me tired!” languidly drawled the ancient, closing his eyes and nodding sleepily. “You don’t care for compliments, then? All right. We'll come down to sober business, then,” said the mask, with a complete change of voice and manner. “ First, I suppose you are curious to learn how and why you have been brought here?” , “Waal.” drawled Pap, with a prolonged awn, “ef you got to wag your chin, I reckon it mought as well be on that sub ec’ as any other, Vd a heap rutber you'd pucakache e an’ give ‘this sink-hole a chaince to purify its wind a little, though! I kin stan’ a skunk fer a while, but I ain’t raaly hankerin’ fer its comp’ny al/ the while! No ’fense; I don’t s’pose you kin help the "fliction o’ natur’.” : } ‘‘T thought we were to dispense with compli- ments?” sneered the mask. “Bf you call that parfume a compliment, I wish to thunder you would ’spense with it—or else fetch me a spring clo’es-pin to saddle my _ pore bugle with—avugh !” Old Pap Weatberwax grixned grimly as he saw by the flashing through the eyelets that the mask was losing bis temper. And there was still further evidence of this fact in the sbarp, harsh tones of the latter as be demanded: “Who are you, anyhow? What brought you to this part of the country? What is your name?” : ‘‘T’'m a white man by perfession, an’—” ‘‘ You lie!” with sudden ferocity. *‘‘ You're a Dloodhound—a detective!” ‘‘ You cain'’t prove it,” drawled the ancient, dazily. ‘Gan't I?’ with a bard, metallic laugh, as ‘the mask suddenly drew a hand-mirror from his bosom and stooped forward, holding it up before the face of his captive. “Take a look into that and satisfy yourself, my noble sir!” Without.a change of countenance or the | sligbtest trace of annoyance, Old Pap Weather- ae before bis | a p Weatherwax | ' Ly | | kg | will find a wax obeyed, gazing steadily at the homely re- flection, turning his face from side to side, thrusting out his chin or drawing it back again, like ore who felt he was viewing a rare work of art, and wishing to make himself familiar with every detail. ‘‘ Well, what do you say now?’ impatiently demanded the mask, as he drew back the mirror. ‘*Say?’ echoed the ancient, with conscious pride. ‘‘Tbat ef you was hafe as good-lookin’, ou’d stan’ a heap better show o’ makin’ a mash ‘mongst the pettycuts!” ‘* Bab!” with a short, bitter laugh. ‘ Impu- dence will not save you this time, you blood- hound! Your disguise is a good one, but it would not stand the rough usage the boys gave you in taking you into camp. Tbey tore your wig and false beard partly off. Or will you still deny that you are disguised?” ‘*Deny nothin’! Why should 1?” ‘‘Tf you are an honest man, why hide your real face?’ ‘* Honest be durned! Whar’d yow run ’crost that word? Who pive you a knock-down to it? You ain’t honest, 1 bope; yit you take mighty good keer to kiver your sweet mug! ‘Fraid o’ spreadin’ an epidemic o’ cholery ain’t ye? Hon- est is good |” * ll give you one fair look at my face before we play quits, never fear,” was the significant reply. ‘* But you bave not answered my ques- tion: why are you in disguise?” ‘* Waal, ef you must know, I come froma mighty onhealithy kentry the las’ time, whar throat diseases hed a mighty oncomfortable way o' takin’ off patients o’ jes’ the ole man’s caliber. I see the durned ’nibilator hed its eye cnto me, an’sol levant«dinaburry. Fer fear it’d foller an’ freeze onto me, I did what natur’ wouldn’t do; sprouted a baird an’ made a thick kiverin’ 0’ ha’r grow onto a bald pate.” ‘*In plainer speech, you fled from the hang- man or Judge Lynch?’ demanded the mask, sharply, his keen eyes riveted on that placid countenance as though seeking to read what lay beneath the surface. ‘* You said it, not me,” with an indifferent yawn, ‘“‘ And thereby uttered a lie false as Hades it- self!” cried the mask, with sudden fury. ‘* You are a detective, come sneaking bere in search of your ay i But instead of finding tha gold- en reward for which you would drag a fellow- being to a shameful death on the scaffold, you rave!” ‘“‘Ef I do, putt me iato a rosewood ¢oflin with silver han’les an’ a dinner-plate on the top Lay a bunch o’ white rcsebuds an’ modest vi’lets onto my manly buzzom, an’ when the cold clay is tromped down over me mortal re keep my grave green, ef you love we, pard! With tightly clinched hands the masked man lared at the cool speaker, seemingly tempted to leap upon him as he lay and tear him limb from limb. But then, with an evident effort he put the savage desire aside, his voice cold and sneering: ‘*You play your cards for all they’re worth, but they are too weak to save your stake in this game—and that stake is your life! Cunning as your disguise is, thoroughly as you have yey your chosen role thus far, you have lost, know who you are. I know what object brought you to Good Enough. Ican utter your name if—” ‘* Don’t do it! fer the love o’ heaven, stranger, don’t do it!” huskily gasped the old man, cast- ing a swift, apprehensive glance around him, as though fearing the very walls would catch up the dangerous syllables and make them known to the whole world. ‘*That touches you, does it?’ sneered the mask, ‘It do—it tetches me deep!” muttered Pap Weatherwax, his voice growing a little more steady. ‘‘l never thunk they was a man or woman sbarp enough or this footstool to see through my disguise, as you say vou’ve done!” “Shall I prove my boast? Shall I shout your name aloud?” _“Do it, an’ I'll die with my lips closed so eh crowbars nur di’mon’ drills couldn’t open cm ‘Bah!’ with a scornful laugh. ‘‘ What care I for that? It is not your silence, but your speech, that might burt, were it to be poured into living ears outside of this room, e will guard well against that happening, never fear!” ‘Then, durn ye! spit it out, ef you kin, which I mightily misdoubt,” growled the an- cient, settling back moodily. ‘‘ You are a detective,.out here in quest of— of certain people who are set down as being criminals, You came from St. Louis, You are a pet of the National Detective Agency, under Chief Albert J. Stiles, and your name is Frank Deckwright!” This last sentence was spitefully uttered, for as be keenly watched the effect of his words, the masked man could not help but notice the | a rl i ssssesssssssessteseeesteesenstiesenstn a 17 expression of dread which at first marked the face of his prisoner, slowly change to a look of vast relief, ending as that name was pro- nounced, in a broad grin. ‘*Great hoop-snakes! how you do exprisea re critter, anyhow! An’ that’s the sort o’ itten I be, eh? An’ mebbe you mought be one o’ them fellers this—J’m huntin’, I guess?” ‘‘“Whether I am or not, will be a matter of utter indifference to you long before our inter- view ends!” ‘That tells the story plain enough, an’ now I see I bain’t got nothing to fear from es ef I do let out my mighty secret,” laughed the old man, bubbling over with relief. ‘‘ Len’ me your top fly-flippers, an’ I'll sing a song into them that many a ’tective’d give his right duke fer to drop onto!” ‘You can’t throw dust into my eyes, by your clownish tricks. I Anow you're the man I named, But Vil listen.” ‘*Then—now don’t you dar’ to give it away, or I’ll come back from my grave to ha’nt you ferever more amen!” ‘*Out with it—I’m listening.” ‘“Come closeter, then—so! Now fer ib. Kate Bender!” With a dramatic whisper and an air of exag- gerated tragedy, the ancient hissed out this pre- posterous assertion, then leaned his head back against the stone wall, placidly eying his cap- tor as though curious to note the effect of his words. | A gleam of angry disgust came into the eyes of the mask, but he choked out his anger before speaking. Then his voice was cold and merci- I'm less, ‘‘You have had your say, and now comes your punishment.” Uttering a low whistle, the trap-door above his head opened and a rope ladder was dropped down. Two men descended, the last one hand- ing his mate achair. Ata sign from the chief, the burly ruffians grasped old Pap Weatherwax and placed him in the chair, binding him firmly to it, then fastening a gag between his jaws. At another sign, they climbed up the ladder, drawing it after them, then closing the trap- door sgain. ** Now, Frank Deckwright, bloodhound, man- hunter, liver on the head-money cffered for men often more sinned against than sinning, your raceis run! Such men as you, are a blot on the face of an otherwise fair earth, and it is no sin to wipe you out of existence. ‘* You came here to capture and drag back to death or life-long imprisonment, men as far above you as heaven is above earth. Instead, you will find the grave of a dog, after dying a dog's death! Bloodshed has no terrors for you, as your deeds this day and night have plainly proven. For tbat reason I will neither blow your brains out nor slit your throat. Instead—” and as he spoke he produced a sponge and flat flask containing a colorless ] quid. Drawing the cork, he poured a quantity of the liquid on the sponge, and then pressed the latter to the nostrils of bis helpless victim, ad- ding: “T will chloroform you first. When your senses have fled for the time being, you will be removed from tbe cellar to another under- ground apartment, where my men are at this moment engaged in digging your grave, and as “5 buried a i os ae ems ecognizin e peculiar odor of the drug es coon ae EDs flask was opened, the old drvhe 3g lected all bis powers of mind and body, resolved to fight against its influence as Jong as possible. He was not wholly unacquainted with the drug and knew that there were some few constitu- tions which it would not affect in the least; while others were able to baffle its effects by the exercise of a powerful will. Believing it possi- ble that his might be among the number, he bentall his powers to fight off that benumbing sensation. With a low, sneering laugh the mask saw this in bis rigidly fixed muscles, and pressed the saturate nostrils, “You fight well, Frank Deckwright, but it is allin vain. You must breathe, no matter how long you hold your wind between. I have ne of time, and co not lack for patience. If this flask does not contain enough to put you to sleep, I'll send for a fresh supply. So! you begin to feel sleepy, eb?” and he laughed witha fierce malignancy. ‘“Think—while you can! Think of what it will be to recover your senses as you lieina narrow box, your arms tied to your sides, un- able to move a muscle—powerless to do any- thing but—think! To know that death is creep ing over you by inches! To feel the little air within your coffin growing hot and foul and poisonous! To note the terrible chenge until each breath you draw is like inhaling liquid iron at a white beat! Think of all this, I say, and then remember the fellow beings Mie have hunted to death without a gleam of pity or thrill of mercy! Think of what they must have suffered as they saw the bloodhound gain- them down fo death !” a rupnin more cbloroform on the e pou and pressed it to the nostrils of his failing vic- JOO eom (E S sponge still more firmly against his © | | |