Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 302 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

| | | | . — a << ——-——- , } Faro Saul, the Handsome Hercules. ——E ee ee =_ her partially unclosed fingers, and he turned away with a silent whistle, his little eyes dilated to double their ordinary size. Stooping over the nearest body, Milo Vincent turned it over upon its back, and tore off the crape mask, startin the features of the dead were revealed. ‘‘What’s the matter? The pizen sarpint didn’t bite ye?” spluttered Old Pap Weatherwax as be shuffled forward. ‘‘No—only startled me. And yet, I should not have been so taken by surprise,” said Vin- cent, slowly, gravely. ‘‘I suspected as much, almost from the first.” ‘* You've see’d the critter afore, then?’ ‘*Often. He worked for Marcus Tudor; was counted one of our best and trustiest hands in the mine!” “‘ Sit o’ fickness tuck him, I reckon,” dryly. A bollow groan caused them to start and turn toward one of the other road-agents, and they saw him feebly lift his head and fumble at his breast where the red blood was flowing. ‘‘Water! Ef you’re white men, give me a drap o’ water to squinch the fire in my throat! Water—fer the love—” — With a husky rattle his voice choked and his head drooped, Vincent sprung to his side and caugbt him, supporting his head with one hand, while with the other he strove to lift the black mask that covered the road-agent’s face. Even as he did this, the wretch raised the hand which had been partly lying beneath him, clasping a bared blade, with which he struck viciously at the heart of the foreman! “You killed me—down to the devil fu’st, an’ tell him I’m comin’!” he snarled with frightful rancor, With a sharp cry Vincent dropped his head and leaped to one side, as the keen-pointed wea- n pierced his panties | directly above his roll The pose agen aughed in savage glee as he saw the red blood tinge the garments, but he did no more. Too far away to arrest the blow, which he saw was coming before Vincent was aware of his peril, Old Pap uttered a warning cry, and grasped a ragged fragment of stone hurling it with all his power, meaning to strike down the armed hand; but instead, the missile spent its force on the temple of the murderous wretch, knocking him back without time to even groan. “It didn’t go home? Say he didn’t make the riffie, ole pard?” agitatedly cried the ancient. Uncertain himself, for the stroke had been well aimed and a heavy one, Vincent tore open his clothes, to find that the knife had only inflict- ed a flesh wound of little magnitude. ‘Thanks to this!” he uttered, gravely, hold- ing up the flat package of bank-notes, he wea had pierced it near the center, and around the clean cut were blood-stains. ‘* Waal, I ber-durned!” 7 hei Pap, in ad- miration, as he gingerly fingered the package. ‘‘That’s a new idee! When git rich enough, durned ef if I don’t quilt my ole karkidge all over with thousan’ dollar notes! It’s better then a sheet-iron ondershirt—it jes’ is /” Silently Vincent replaced the valuable pack- e for which he had so nearly sacrificed his life, only fo have it preserve himin turn. Then he cautiously stooped over the road-agent, ut- tering a short murmur of regret as he noted the shattered skull. He tore off the bloodv mask and recognized another of the men who had long been employed by Marcus Tudor. ‘Treacherous as the fellow was, I would give a good deal to bring him back to life again!” he muttered. “That he mought squeal afore he croaked, eh?” “Yes, I would give a year of my life to know for certain who put up this job—who that fellow is that escap2d!” ‘“ Mebbe you kin git it cheaper’n that, Look at the rest.” But of the entire seven men, not one retained a spark of life. The two heroes had performed their work only too well. ‘*Mebbe it won’t be so hard, after all,” said Weatherwax, after the examination was com- leted. “You say the imps all belong to the orce you bossed in the mines?” “Four of them; the others are idle roughs, who have hung about town for some time past. The leader may have been one of the same crowd.” “*Tt’s even odds that he wasn’t. Those men was workin’ onder you. They founded out some- how that you was goin’ to fetch in a fat boodle, an’ when they made up thar mind fer to go fer it, heayy, is it likely they’d pick a chief from the outside?” Vincent was impressed with this method of weenie but for all that he slowly shook his ead. ‘* Even so, though something tells me that you are on the wrong track, we have no clew to the rascal, He will go back to work, and if he keeps his own secret, bow am I to detect him?’ ‘By his voice, his figger, his actions, all putt together. When you see a man that makes you think of the critter who tried to run tbe side show, look bim mighty cluss in the face fer the handwrite of your knuckles, They’ll show plain enough to tell the truth for a week to come, sure!” back with a sbarp cry as “ There may be something in thet!” ejaculated Vincent, bis brow clearing a little. “Tt’s good advice, ef a fool did give it, eh?” grinned the ancient, as they moved toward tbe stage. As they approached, Stella Timberlake sud- denly arose and came forward, her hands tight- ly clasped before her, her eyes moist with tears, her voice broken and trembling as she said: *““Once more, Mr. Vincent, | beg of you to forgive me! I did it all for the best. I could not stand by in silence and see you murdered b that brutal wretch. Isaw that you would die before surrendering your charge, but how could I keep still when I knew well that one word would preserve your life?” While she poured forth these words, Milo gazed steadily, keenly into her eyes, as though striving to find somethiog in them which would solve the doubts he evidently entertained. And when she paused, with a little, choking sob, he said, gravely: ‘‘Doubtless you acted as you felt, Miss Tim- berlake. Some day I hope to thank you as you deserve, but just now I have too much to think over, to do the subject justice.” ‘* You still feel resentment—well,” with a low sigh, as her head bowed and she turned partial- ly away, ‘“‘I will have to bear it. Some day you will do me justice.” “Tf it ever lies in my power, be sure of that, Miss Timberlake!” was the swift response, She flashed aside glance upward as though in doubt how to take this speech, but Vincent had already turned his back. “Help the lady inside, Don,” he said, briefly. The fat little driver hastened to obey, but with a proud gesture of denial, Stella Timber- lake avoided him, entering the stage and closing the door behind her with what, in a man, would have been a very spiteful slam. Pap Weatherwax looked curiously into the grave, pale face of the young man, then nodded slowly, a faint whistle parting his bearded lips. But he had the sense to make no comments on the discovery which he believed he had made. ‘Lend a hand, Don,” said Vincent, in a more natural tone. ‘“‘ You shall go into camp with a full load for once, and if any one dares fling out a slur on dear old Good Enough, you will have the evidence to back your retort.’ ‘*] knowed it?d come, boss—I was dead sure on it!” and there was something that seemed to rise and swell in the fat driver’s throat that pre- vented him from saying anything more. In silence they hoisted the seven bodies to the roof of the stage, where Don Bobtail quickly bound them fast, Then the two men entered the stage, closing the door behind them. Don Bobtail Fandango, the proudest man that ever entered Good Enough, chirped to bis borses, and the coach, with its ghastly outside en- gers rolled rapidly away, to carry surprise and consternation to some of the citizens, CHAPTER VIL. AN EXHIBITION OF CHEEK. MARCUS TUDOR stared at the handsome gam- bler in open-eyed amazement, unable for the moment to credif the evidence of his own senses. Then he gasped: * What the foul fiend do you mean, anyhow?’ ‘*Precisely what 1 said—no less,” was the prompt response. ‘‘ But you are needlessly ex- cited, my dear sir. First you know, you'll have a fitof apoplexy, Sit down and calm yourself, my worthy host—do /” here was something in that cool, deliberate tone which stung the mine-owner to tne very quick, His hands clinched, his cheeks grew almost purple, his eyes flashed with the not vet extinguished fires of a strong and flerce-willed youth. It seemed as though, forgetful of the terrible odds against him, he was about to leap at the throat of the insolent speaker; but with a vigorous effort he couquered this mad impulse, ‘Tf this be intended fora jest, Mr. Oberlin, Abia me to say that it is in very bad taste. ust at this moment, lam notin the temper to appreciate any such extravagance,” he said, slowly and with almost painful distinctness, for even yet he could not forget the great service which this man had rendered him, through his idolized daughter. **That’s a pity, old cock!” yawned Faro Saul, without even a pretense by way of disguise. “But I’m in no particular baste. Business won’t begin for three or four hours yet, and I can wait.” ** For what, may I ask?” **For you to brush up your wits so that you can comprehend plain English when you hear it spoken. Take your own time, daddy that is to be, and JU blow a cloud while waiting for you to get your second win.” Biting the tip off of a cigar, Faro Saul struck a patent lighter, and tben leaned lazily back in his seat, gazing with half-closed eyes at the mine-owner, plainly enjoying the deep amaze- gt: into which his strange actions bad plung- im, This was the last feather. Detesting tobacco himself, and quite as likely to introduce a rattle- snake into his pet room as the odor which now smelied so rank in his nostrils, Marcus Tudor burst forth in a passion that threatened serious consequences, if only in the bursting of a blood- vessel. ‘‘Why, you infernally impudent scoundrel! You brazen-cheeked black-leg! How dare you? Get out of my bouse, or I'll forget that I was raised a gentleman, and kick you out!” be cried, hoarsely, flinging aside hiscbair and half-crouch~ a for a leap at the throat of the giant. ut Saul ‘‘ didn’t scare worth a cent,” as he’ himself might have expressed it. Lolling back in bis chair, bis head turned a little to one side, his lighted cigar pointing straight upward, his { eyes half-closed to avoid the curling smoke, he gazed quizzically at the underpinning of the mine-owner. ‘* With those legs, daddy-prospective? Oh, go way! you’re pouring an evaporated distilla- tion of sorghum into my auricular appendages! You couldn’t kick one—” lf be was not very big, Marcus Tudor lacked no pluck, for he leaped at the throat of the in- solent gambler with a fury that resembled that shown by a toy terrier who fancied himself in- sulted by the very size of a passing mastiff. And with much the same coolness did Faro Saul receive his assault. A swift motion of his left arm brushed aside the blows aimed at his head, and then—just how it was performed, Marcus ‘Tudor could never explain, even to himself—the irate mine- owner was transported across the room and seated once more in hischair. And the Hercules reoccupied his own seat, smoking placidly, smiling lazily, cool and insolent as ever. For a brief space there was silence between them. Then, having recovered his breath and a portion of his usual calmness and clearness of wit, Marcus Tudor spoke: “Allow me to ask one question: are you crazy, or only drunk, Mr. Oberlin?’ ‘‘ Neither the one nor the ‘other,” was the prompt reply, as the gambler flung his ci out at the open window and drew his a cent figure erect, all traces of laziness vanis as though by magic. “Instead m a mano business, and I expect you to meet me on that platform.” ? ‘Very well,” was the deliberate response. ‘‘ As a man of business, you must expect to hear the truth occasionally, even though a little of the customary veneer of politeness be brushed off. ‘Oh, I'm not overly thin-skinned, to kick at. a flea-bite. Make no apologies on my account, I beg of you.” ‘*] will not, sadly as your recent conduct needs them,” was the quick retort. ‘‘ You have acted the part of a drunken ruffian; or, else that of a crack-brained ass, I have not yet fully decided which. Unfortunately for out- raged decency, you have but recently been of service to my daughter, thus obliging me to en- dure much more than a gentleman otherwise could bear. Butif you have an atom of common sense remaining, you will bear in mind that there is a limit to human endurance. Have I —— with sufficient plainness, Afister Ober- in ‘Like an oracle, or a poll-parrot, my dear sir; take your choice,” was the careless reply. ‘*T will,” with sudden beat. ‘1 choose to be left alone. Yonder is the door through which you entered. Good-day, sir!” ‘““ Well, yes; the day’s good encugh for me, though Il have experienced cooler ones in my time.” ‘* Will you go? Or must I—” ‘* You certainly must—clap a stopper on that toy volcano of yours, and listen to me. down.” Sharp and decisively as Faro Saul spoke, his actions were equally prompt. With one stride he was beside the engry mine-owner, one hand pressing him back into the chair, while the other, with extended and quivering forefinger, moved back and forth before the little man’s face, keeping time tothe words which fell from the lips of the gambler. ‘You have had your say, so now listen to mine. Imean business, clear down to bed-rock, I gave you the Apes to do the graceful and prove hes fa parent such as we read about—in the Ledger—and thus enti:le yourself to a double dose of red-fire and app'ause. But you wouldn’t accept your cue. ou kicked over the traces, and violated all precedents. You admitted that I rescued your only daughter from outrage, if not death, but when I putina claim for the hand to which, in justice, my ser- vices entitled me, you kicked worse than a mule with a burr under its teil.” Again that mocking drawl, as Saul relaxed his grasp and fell back a pace, his face assumin an expression of injured dignity, flatly by the dancing devil in his eyes, . Marcus Tudor stered into his face, once more puzzled and unable to say whetber this fellow was mad or —7 drunk. He surely could not be in his usual senses, or— ‘“Don’t be mealy-mouthed, daddy. Spit it cart’ ne drunk ‘* T will. e you drunk, crazy or simpl sessed of the devil?’ demanded Duden.) vith forced calmness in his tones, though his eyes — were blazing with inward passion. ‘‘ You have said and done enough to caucel a thousand times EOmMmIGcbooks —— lky 4 P 4 a b : - \ * | i. : ‘ éJ