Beadle's Dime Library No. 317 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

12 hoping to see some of his new-found friends of whom he might expect an invitation to ‘‘ poison himself.” But there was little astir in Independence City at that hour of the day, and Jess now than usual, All those who were not too lazy or too drunk to arise, had gone about their regular work, and Uncle Fuller huskily muttered: “*I got to hev my bitters, even ef I hev to pay fer ’em out o’ my own pocket!” He cast a stealthy, suspicious glance around him, then fumbled among his rags until he pro- duced a bit of buckskin, tied and kuotted after a most intricate fashion. Undoing the knots as well as be could with his trembling fingers, the tramp swept his vicinity suspiciously once more, then singled a few silver coins from the little store of gold, He tied up the more precious coins again, then rose and staggered over to the nearest saloon, Burning as was bis thirst, he paused on the threshold when he saw that only the barkeeper was within. He saw by the sour look which greeted bis appearance that there was little hope of beating a drink out of this worthy, and be felt the need of liquor too great- ly to lose any further time in skirmishing around ‘‘for a soft snap.” With a bollow sigh, he produced an empty bottle and bade the bar- keeper fill is, only to have a blunt hint as to the color of his money. ‘‘ Jest set your figgers, an’ [ll buy the hull durned shebang, cash down,” he sniffed, his head in the air as he tossed the amocnt upon the bar. ‘* Was lookin’ fer a ’vestment, but I never deal with on’y gents of the fu’st water. Good- by, Johnny—Ill call on ye ag’in when I cain’t find no other place open, Ef anybody axes fer the Emp’ror o’ Rooshy, tell ’em I’m gone out promenoddin’ fer my heaith.” With a dignified strut, the bummer left the saloon, but he had no sooner turned the corner than he yam and took a hasty drink of the vile stuff he had just bought. His nerves were all aquiver, and he felt the need of a stimulant. “‘Durned nasty stuff fer to be paid fer out o’ & man’s own hard earnin’s,” he muttered, dis- qaatenly as he shambled back the way he came, “It'll hev to do, I reckon, an’ 1 got to dip lightly onto it ontel I kin git the wires to work- in’ all hunky, It’s a big bonanza, ole man, an’ wants keerful workin’, or mebbe— Hellow I say !” Cocle Fuller caught sight of Aristabulus Boythorn at a little distance, half hidden be- hind aclump of bushes, and from his motions the tramp believed the acle had just taken adrink. Instantly hiding his own flask, he ut- tered a shout that attracted the attention of the veteran, who growled out a surly reply. But Uncie Fuller was not a man to be easily daunt- ed where he fancied there was a prospect of getting free liquor, and hastening to the spot where Aristabulus awaited him, he held outa grimy paw, grinning all over bis face, * Durned ef I knowed ye at fu’st, pard! Your head looks as big as mine feels, this mornin’, an’ it’s "most growed out o’ my recollection. Take a ha’r o’ the dog, pard—take a ha’ro the dog that bit ye! An’ jest to take the cuss off, don’t mind ef I j’ine in with ye.” Aristabulus jerked his hand away from that hot, feverish grasp, growling surlily: *** You're too pesky fri’ndly, all to oncet! It’s yf *pinion you're a fraud o’ the fu’st water, an’ I don’t make no bones o’ tellin’ ye so, right in- to your teeth. You’ve done nothin’ but pum lies into my ears ever sence we fu’st struck eac other, let alone makin’ me look like a durn fool afore the gent, yisterday—sayin’ you knowed him sence he was hatched—ugh !” There was utter disgust in the tones of the veteran, and as Uncle Fuller encountered that sullen stare, he was shrewd enough to detect danger ahead unless he could shift his present course. He had his own particular re’sons for cultivating the acquaintance of the Barnacle, and as these had not been wholly answered, he threw a sop to Cerberus, producing his own flask and shaking it for a. moment, then holding it up where the light of the sun could strike through the red liquor, “On, Lain’t a hog, ef Ido grunt! I’m a full- growed M. D., an’I kerry a drug-store ’round with me fer to fill out my scriptions, Wuss then that, I’m al’ays ready fer to act as taster, so my patients kin be sure I ain’t puttin’ up no job fer the coffin-man onto’em! Take a smell, pard, an’ef she don’t lift ye clean off’m the pred an’ cur] your toe-nails up into a double ow -knot, then I’m a false prophet o’ Isr’el!”” Aristabulus hesitated, but it was only for an instant. He was so thoroughly accustomed to accepting invitations of the sort, that almost before he was aware of the fact, he held the uncorked flask with bottom pointed toward the sun, while Uncle Fuller watched him with a sickly grin that almost became a spasm at each melodious gurgle! “That’s the wu'st o’ gittin’ drunk onto the sort o’ p’izen these ongodly critters keep to mur- der thar feller-bein’s with by inches a whack,” he muttered, hastily recovering and corking up the flask as soon as the Barnacle lowered it from his lips. ‘It takes nigh a gallon fer to make a man’s hat come anyways near to fictin’, the next mornin’,.” | —— 20 ee Frank Lightfoot, the Miner Detective. ‘* Anybody kin see, without hafe tryin’, that you're used to heap better licker then a little, one-boss town like this kin a’ford to keep,” growled Aristabulus, bis nose in the air. ‘What a durned pity you don’t pull out whar you kin do better. It’d be turribie bard to worry ‘long without ye, but I don’t reckon more’n hafe the popylation ’d die o’ grief—no, not more’n bafe!” “Then Dll wait ontel the other hafe kin git thar nose-wipes in good workin’ order,” grinned the tramp, for this clumsy wit was just suited to bis mental caliber. ‘I never say ajew toa piace that they ain’t a water-spout an’ a cloul- u’st fer the nighest newspaper to reecord, an’ it takes the bull popylation fer to make a fu’st- class flood. Ho, ole pard; (ll stick to ye as long as they’s a swig in your flask or your credit is strong enough to bold up a slate at ary one bar in [Independence City—witn a big 8!” : i you’re too mighty ’commodatin’, you ? ‘Never a mite, ole pard. It’s a gent’s bound- en duty fer to help a fri’nd empty his bottle, hug his wife, an’ fost the oro from getberin’ rust into his pockets. An’ when duty blazes a trail so plain as she hes this ne, you kin bet your bottom dollar your ole Uncle Fuller ’Il never stray fur from it!” ‘Then, ef I’m your fri’nd, the same law must "ply to me; so shell out that bottle once more,” grinned the Barnacle, ‘Won't I?” replied Uncle Fuller, with far more alacrity than his hand displayed in pro- ducing the flask. ‘‘ No man don’t hev to grunt when he wants Uncle Fuiler to understan’ bim., Drink hearty, mate! Pity it’s sech monstrous pore stuff!” ‘I hev tasted better,” admitted Aristabulus, lowering the bottle after a vigorous pull aft its contents. ‘*That’s the p’int,” muttered the tramp, rue- fully measuring the liquor remaining, before ap- plying the neck to bis own lips. “Ef they wasn’t any better ’ithin reach, I wouldn't keer a continental cuss; but 1 know they is better licker kept in the camp, somewhar—ef a body could on’y find out jest whar!” ** Don’t I know it? Didn’t [ hev a bottle o’ the same sort you’re dreamin’ ’bout, stole from me no later than yist’day? An’ divil take the touch did it give my own lips, either!” the Bar- nacle uttered with sudden heat. Uncle Fuller made the mistake of trying to swallow and laugh at the same time, the result being a fit of coughing and strangling that came near ending his life then and there, The Barnacle thumped bim vigorously on the back, and ere long the Argonaut regained his breath and powers of speech, ‘*Stole it, did they? Didn’t leave you even the cork tosmell of? The pesky ongodly crit- ters! They desarve to bev the flask pounded up an’ sent to keep the stolen licker comp’ny! Ain’t got no idee who done it, I reckon?” ‘“Not a hooter!” was the prompt reply; but right there the veteran told a lie. Somethingin the voice, in the cunning leer of those bleared eyes, aroused his suspicions, and like a flash there came back a memory of the sudden disappearance of the tramp for an hour or more on the preceding day, and that not long before be missed bis precious flask, ‘“?T wouldn’t be healthy fer him or them ef ye was to run across the critters, I don’t reckon? Sorter whoop it up lively, I wouldn’t wonder, when you see ’em?” chuckled the bummer, fol- lowing the lead of the Barnacle still further away from the town. ‘‘Not now,” promptly replied Aristabulus. ‘* At the time I was red-hot, fer I’d bin boldin’ on to the prime stuff fer to putt the i sheaf on a big drunk, an’ it hit me bard when | want- ed it an’ it was somewhar else. Jest then I was fightin’ mad; but now—waal, it was a good joke, an’ the critter as was smart enough to play it so fine onto the old man, desarved all be got, an’ more too!” ‘* Which you’d be on’y too glad fer to give it to him, I ain’t afeard to bet money,” laughed the Argonaut, ‘*Ef he’d take oath he’d never let the joke slip out ’mongst the boys, you bet I would!” was the eager reply. ‘‘I’d never bear the last of it, let them unce git a grip onto it!” ‘* Mebbe you'd tell him whar they keeps sech licker, ef he owned up an’ ’fessed to playin’ the trick onto you?” ‘* Wouldn’t I? Jes’ let him try it on an’ see!” ‘* Waal,” said Uncle Fuller, with a cunnin leer, ‘‘ef I ever chaince onto the sly critter, I tell him what you say.” ‘‘ No need, durn ye!” cried the Barnacle, his whole demeanor changing as though by magic. ‘* You was the p’izen thief! You stole that bottle, an’ now Pen goin’ to take pay out o’ your bide, ef it costs a lawsuit!” Moving with all the fire and nimbleness of bis vanished youth, the Barnacle confronted the startled tramp, revolver in band, hammer lifted and muzzle bearing full in his face. ‘Good Lawd! don’t shoot!” gasped Uncle Fuller, turning as white as dirt and tan would admit. ‘* Don’t bloody murder a pore devil jist fer takin’ a bottle o’ bug-juice! Let ap, an’ [ll pay ye back double over—'deed I will, now!” ee ‘* An’ ’deed I mean ye shall,” was the signifi- cant reply. ‘ But not in p’izen rot-gut. I’m goin’ to take tbe pay out o’ your hide. I’m goin’ to lick you clean out o’ your boots!” ** But you said—” ‘I said the critter desarved all he got, an’ more too,” was the swift interposition, ‘* an’ it’s the more too I’m goin’ to give ye now, bet your boots! I won’t shoot ve, fer that'd bea waste 0’ good powder an’ Jead on mighty pore game, [| need to do penance fer bein’ ass enough to let a critter o’ your caliber take mein fer a sucker; an’ I cain’t think of a nastier job then lickin’ you with bar’ han’s.” At this the countenance of the tramp percep- tibly lightened up, and his voice was steadier as he muttered: 4 You don’t dast to give a man a fa’r show, ‘Which shows you're a liar as well as a thief. Shell out your weepons—| know you tote a gun an’ a knife—an’ teke keer how you try to play bugs onto the ole man. Ive got the drap, an’ I'll use it mighty quick ef I see a crooked mo- tion, Strip, honey! It’s that or take a blue- pill! Uncle Fuller was no fool, and he slowly obey- ed. Aristabulus watched him too closely for any cffort to turn the tables to be safe, and the tramp stood disarmed before the veteran, ‘‘ Now you want to Jisten to the ole man fer a bit,” said the Barnacle, lowering the ham- mer of his revolver and replacing the weap- on in its bolster as be set about unbuckling the belt which encircled bis waist. ‘‘1l met you a stranger, an’ 1 treated you white from the word go! Ishowed vou that all the gentle- men wasn't dead. I stuffed you full o’ licker, without once tastin’ the juice 0’ your own pock- et; but that didn’t count witb me, I was a cit- izen, an’ we was celebratin’ the day o’ days an’ the city o’ cities, to me, But that wasn’t enough fer you. You hed to steal—durn it all!” with a sudden outburst of rage; *‘ it makes me too mad fer to talk any longer! Putt up your ban’s an’ keep your face, ef ye kin!” e aimed a furious blow at the face of the tramp, only to have bis arm brushed aside, Swift as thought a puffy fist struck him be- tween the eyes, knocking bim back a pace. And then the tramp rained blows upon the aston- ished Barnacle, hilting him just about where be pleased, driving him back step by step, without giving bim time to counter. Had the wind of the Argonaut equaled his science, Aristabulus would have fared badly; but bad liquor and irregular hours had done their work, He had not strength enough to knock tbe sturdy miner out, and as his wind hegan to fail him, bis rush lost its terrors. The Barnacle rallied, and in his turn Uncle Fuller began to give ground. Still he was able to guerd his face, werding «ff all blows with a skill that showed Boytborn be could not cope with him thus; and then the miner changed his tactics, leaping in and closing with the tramp. A momentary struggle for the fall, then Un- cle Fuller went down with a force tbat knocked the breath out of his body. And sitting astride him. Aristabulus flercely panted: ‘‘Now I’ve got ye, ye p'izen thief! Own up ‘that you’re a fraud o’ the fu’st water, or—no ye don’t, durn ye!” and bis bony fist was driven into the face of his adversary as that worthy made a desperate effort to turn bim. ‘‘[kin lick ye in a fa’r fist fight, and you dasn’t—” The bony fist fell upon and closed his moutb. ‘*Everythin’ goes when a gintleman’s dealin’ with a cussed thief,” grinned the Barnacle. ‘Own up that you’re licked. Own up that you’re a fraud an’ a cheat an’a skin an’ a thief an’ a coward right from head-waters! Own up, I say, or you’l! think they’s a airthquake knock- in’ at the door o’ your ugly meat-house! Ye won't? Then—” ; Once, twice, the bony fist fell, but as it was lifted for a third blow, Uncle Fuller cried enough! Scarce hed the words passed his lips when Aristabulus freed bis throat and sprang to his feet, holding out a hand to assist the other to rise. “ That settles it, old yt Git up, an’ we'll take a drink to wash all the bitter out o’ our mouths! Git up, man, an’ leave all grudges abind ye, like a gintleman. So!” Accepting the proffered hand, Uncle Fuller slowly arose, a ghastly grin distorting his bruised and bloody countenance, CHAPTER Xf, UNCLE FULLER BEARDS THE LION. ““Wuicn tbat breaks the slate an’ passes the wet sponge o’ ferget’ness acrost the runnin’ a’count which they was atwixt you ’nd me, winin’ out the last crooked figger, so fur as the ole man hes any say-so "bout it,’ cordially cried the Barnacle, extending his other hand, ‘ Putt it thar, pard! I’d a heap ruther take your paw this-a-way, then to hev it poked into my ole mug, the way you was doin’ of it a bit ago!” Though it was a rather sickly grin with which Uncle Fuller met this frank advance, and though his free band was busily engaged in dry- ing bis battered nose, there was more of honesty in his hand-grip than he bad shown for many a milcbooks (E (E(@) (E()