Beadle's Dime Library No. 317 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

Frank Lightfoot, the Miner Detective. me ee ee 13 day. It sometimes does a man good to have a | sideboard, out 0’ which I borried the only drink sharp fight, even though he gets the worst of the tussie. ‘Nor it ain’t your Uncle Fuller as ever holds malice a’ter a litile turn up o’ this sort,” he said, and it was probably the bonestest remark he had made since first striking Indepen- dence City. ‘‘A man never knows anotber on- tel they’ve hed a skrimmage or two, It was your turn then; mebbe itll be mine fer to come out on top the next bout.” Aristabulus could afford to be generous, as the victor, and be laughingly shook bis head. **No ye don’t, pard, hen [ want any more fun o’ that sort you'll ketch me tacklin’ a bair- pin as doesn’t kerry a dozen fists hid up each shirt-sleeve! Looked like a hand-fuctory bed bu’sted loose, an’ the bull stock was comin’ at me, each one with knuckles fu’st! Ef they'd on’y bin as hard as they was willin’, reckon Id hey to hire a cheap nigger fer to chaw my ebuck from this on!” Uncle Fuller grinned, then shook his head mournfully, as be lowered it to meet a fragment of his shirt, sighing as be gazed at the red stain. ‘Time was when it tuck a mighty good man to do that to your Uncle Fuller—deed it did, vow! Time was, too, when a man, no matter how big or how clever they made ’em, hed to bev a stone wall to lean up ag’inst ef he didn’t want to measure his longitude on the ground when I sent in my keerd! Time was—but it ain’t so no longer; the ole man is n. g., an’ on’y fit fer to keep grub from moldin’.” “T hops they won’t any o’ the rest o’ my fri’ods hev the impidence to hint as much whar the ole man kin heur ’em,” the honest Barnacle jaid, with a solemn shake of his head, ‘‘I ain’t no slouch my own self, an’ I’m free to own that it was on’y more bone an’ solid muskle that let vne putt you onto your back. But let it go, nard, Ef you caio’t bit like you use-to-did, they ain’t nothin’ fo hender your drinkin wowers. Take a snort, jest to wash the last drap o’ bitterness out o’ your thrapple; an’ here’s wishin’ it was elkil to the honey-dew you got away with so slick yist'day—drink hearty!” Unele Fuller promptly grasped the proffered flask, but while he drank, be kept his bleared vyes riveted on the face of the Barnacle like one expecting him to take to flight before a chance was given to ask an all-important question. In all probability this fear prolonged the fate of at least a portion of the liquor, for Uncle Fuller cut bis drink rather short, in order to utter: ‘Waal, ’tain’t quite as ily as that, ef [I must say so. You don’t disremember the name 0’ the man who keeps the place whar you got that bottle I reckon, pard, do ye?” ‘It’s thar ye be, is it?” chuckled the Barna- cle, finding no particular difficulty in under- standing this rather mixed query. ‘* Waal, le’s meander over to the little spring, whar we kin take a decent wr Map, aged! ‘But you'll tellf You won’t play bugs onto your Uncle Fuller? It’d be a blazin’ shame, fer licker like that’s on’y fit fer good Jedges like we-uns, an’some durned hog mought buy out the bull supply afore we kin git thar.” ‘Don’t you fret, ole pard, Ef you git holdo’ any more 0’ that bran’, it won’t cost ye a red cent; money cain’t tetch it~which is the last word comes over my tongue outel I gif some o” this dirt au’ blood sluiced off’m my ole mug, honey!” Aristabulus led the way to the spring, and they both took a much neoded wash. Both faces were somewhat bruised and battered by that brief skirmish, but that of Uncle Fuller had suffered far the worst, Already his eyes were being draped in mourning. His nose was redder and puffier than ever, while his cheeks also bore the imprint of the veteran’s bony knuckles in red and blue. ' Aristabulus eyed the tramp critically, with head cocked on one side, for a brief space, then bluntly uttered bis idea: ‘It don’t prove your looks so mighty much, but it makes you smell a powerful s ght milder, ole pard. Whby don’t you do it of’ener—say once or twice a year?” ‘‘Too much trouble,” muttered Uncle Fuller, jn no wise offended at this exceedingly blunt way of speaking. “‘ Then it does double duty— keeps the heat in durin’ winter, an’ keeps out the sun in summer.” “ An’ I s’pose when you grow too big fer it, you jest crack the shell an’ creep oui, locust fashion?’ mused the veteran, without the ghost of a smile to hint at a joke. ‘* Jes’ so,” as soberly replied the Argonaut, **Tt's on’y by way o’ compliment to the high- toned s‘iety in which I circuambulate, that I waste my hard-airned wealth in buyin’ these fash’nable dry goods; ef I wasn’t sech a darlin’ t *mongst the ladies, I'd buy a pot o’ paint an’ tell the tailor good-by fer all time—'deed I jes’ would, says your Uncle Fuller!” “itd bea powerful sight 0’ savin’, wouldn’t t “ An’ then see how much more oro a man would hev fer to treat his good fri’nds to budge!” enthusiastically ‘added the tramp. “But you didn’t mention the name o’ the man what hes the honor ©’ supplyio’ your portable fit fer a white gentleman I’ve hed sence I crossed the Big Muddy!” ‘1 don’t reckon you’ve fergot him yit,” was the reply, with a trace of sarcasm in both face and voice. ‘It’s one o’ them old fri’nds you talk about—Frederick Lyon, Exquire.” A sober look chased the eager expectation from the face of the tramp. ecast a swift glance around them. The spring was located at some little distance from the town, andin a spot which rendered eavesdropping almost im- possible, but Uncle Fuller crept cautiously around, peering here and there until fully as sured that they were the only rey 4 beings in the vicinity; then he returned to his former position, saying: ‘‘Look ye here, pard. I ain’t so young as I used to was. I ain't got the wit nur the grit that I hed when I was a young man, an’ some- bow I feels the want of a true an’ trusty pard- ner jestnow. I’ve got a bonanza in my eye— big «nough an’ rich enough to let two men o’ the right sort live in clover all the rest o’ thar pn°t’ral lives. Will you jine han’s with your Uncle Fuller? Wi!l you come into the game as a equal pardner, cal’latin’ fer to do your sheer 0’ the work?” All traces of levity vanished from the counte- nance of Aristabulus Boythorn as he listened to this whispered speech. He watched the tramp closely as he spoke, trying to read his in- most thoughts, and it was with a sober tone that he replied: “Ef your bonanzais sech that a white man kin tetch it ’thout dirtyin’ his han’s, then I don’t mind. Butef it calls fer dirty work—ef it axes a man to do anythin’ that'll turn his cheeks red when he thinks o’ his dead mother —then I ain’t a pard you’re lookin’ fer.” Uncle Fuller stared at him like one demented. His own conscience was so hardened, his sense of right so distorted, as to make it impossible for him to either understand or appreciate such rugged honesty. Judging the Barnacle by him- self, he believed the veteran was simply fight- ing shy in order to enhance bis own value, and without a fear for the result, he spoke again, more to the point: ‘A bonanza it is, as you'll see one o’ these long-come-shortlies, pard—a bonanza tbat is running over with gold!” “ Ef it ain’t ag’inst what I said afore, le’s og the pa’tic’lars,” quietly uttered Aristabu- us, “Now it’s your time to hey patience an’ wait a bit,” the tramp chuckled, with vulgar delight on his bruised face. ‘‘It is sorter ’nected with the gent you named, thougb; Mister Frederick Lyon, Exquire-an’-all-the-rest! He’s the cocoa- nut we’re gwine fer to bu’st wide open fer bis milk; an’ ef we don’t git fat onto it, it’ll be our own fault fer not eatin’ enough,” ** Wind!” pithily ejaculated the Barnacle. “Wind nothbin’!” hotly cried the tramp, bis bleared eyes glowing redly. “I tell ye, ole man, | got that high-an’-mighty gentleman rightonder my thumb! Ef I say to him squeal, out’ll come the music in a stream! He on’y breathes ’cause I savs he may!” ee It looked like it, yist’day,” grinned Aristab- ulus, ‘* Never mind the looks; you want to listen to me, or Ll'll go hunt up another pard what ain’t quite so durned pa'ticular. “Tm goin’ to pay this gentleman a wisit afore you're a bour older. I’m gwine in head up an’ tail over the dasher, but mebbe it won’t be quite so easy comin’ ont. **Ob, you'll come out easy enongh, fur’s that part goes.” ‘‘They’s a resk, in course,” was the quiet re- ply; ‘‘ but then the pay is big enough to dis- count all that. Ef the gent ain’t too quiek on trigger, iv’li all be right, an’ I won’t lose a tail- feather. Ef he is—it’s that 1 want a pardner fer, ‘“Look here, ole man; you needn’t to bind ourself down to nothin’ at the jump-off. All ax—an’ I ax it asa fri’nd—is fer you watch the house fer my comin’ out, Ef I don’t show up inside a reasonable time, then go tell the citizens wher you see’d me last an’ ax them to find out why I stop so long overtime. Will you *gree to this much?” The B roacle nodded, gravely. “*Good enough! Then I make you my heir ‘cordin’ to the law o fri’ndship.” Ef anythin’ happens to shet off my light, call at the hotel an’ give’em this bit o’ paper. It calls fera package I left thar in the keer o’ the landlord. Open that, when you know fer sure I’ve slipped up the golden sta’rs—open an’ read what you'll find inside. I don’t tell you how to act. I leave it all to your own likin’ when you come to see the clew that leads to my bonarza.” ‘‘Look here,” said Aristabulus, placing a hand on the arm of the tramp and spesking with an earnestness which he had not before betrayed. ‘You say you’re goin’ to pay a visit to the mare?” ‘Ef he’s the man you p’inted out vist’day— ef he’sthe one who calls hisself Lyon—then I be, fer sure!” ‘Then you want to take keer how you does it, honey. Fer I tell you straight ont, he’s a mightv bad man when you rub him the wrong way 0’ the wool—’eed be jest is, now!” **Mebbe I know him better’n ycu do, ole man,” with a short, hard Jaugh. ‘Er he’s the same J kin pritty nigh take my oath he is, I kin lead bim ’round the kenury like 1 would a bull with a ring through its nose!” “This is a bull that kerries mighty sharp horns, honey!” ‘*Which’ll never gore your Uncle Fuller, be sure 0’ that. An’ even ef the resk is as big as you seem to think, the pay which’ll come of a squar’ hit, sech as I kin see in my mind’s eye a’ready, is wu’th it all. Think of it, ole man! Money’ nuff fer to set us up the finest, high-toned- est saloon in the wide West—to oe: on’y the choicest o’ stock, with you’nd me takin’ turns playin’ barkeeper!” ‘Which we’d be our own best customers, I reckon,” laughed Aristabulus, but with a glitter in his eyes that told how very pleasant the pic- ture appeared to him at first glance. ‘““Why not? What’s to hender? Ef we want- ed, we could hire men to wait on the boys. They wouldn’t be no need o’ keepin’ count o’ the drinks, sense he'll pay fer the stock an’ take monstrous good keer to keep it up to the top notch, too! Lawd love ye, man, we'd git fat, we would!” Aristabulus slowly sbook his head. The first glow of enthusiasm faded before the sober light of afterthought, and he looked dubiously at the enthusiastic bummer, ‘Not on wind, ole pard. It may ’gree with you, but it'll never stick to my bones or make me he. a pound the heavier. J’ve drunk mighty fine licker in my dreams, but I never was any the less drv when I woked up ag’in. No; you kin git fat that way, ef it suits your taste, but the ole man’ll stick to bard-tack an’ sow-belly fer bis’n,” ‘Keep on a-thinkin’so ef ye feel in the hu- mor, ole pard,” chuckled the tramp, rising and brushing the seat of his dilapidated trowsers, such is the strength of habit. ‘“ It won’t make tbe feast taste any the less sweet when we come to sock tooth into it, Keep on a-tbinkin’ so, but while you’re doin’ of it, s’pose we mog along to’rds the stable this mare o’ yours lives into, Mebbe that'll help to show ye your Uncle Fuller ain’t playin’ bisself fer a durn fool an’ idjit!” “You're in airnest? You’re goin’ to pay the mare a wicit, fer keeps?” demanded Aristabulus, also rising. "Deed I be. Take me fer a wind-bag?”’ “All right. You’re goin’ to the bouse o’ the mare, You're goin’ inside, an’ at the front do’. You ain’t goin’ to plev any more o’ your old fri‘nd biz onto me. Ef you try it, durned ef you don’t ketch a lickin’ sech as t’ether one wasn’t a tit on a bog longside of—you jest chaw onto that. boney!” Uncle Fuller sbowed no sigrs of either fear or doubt, but unhesitatingly followed the rapid lead of the suspicious Barnacle, who never paused until he neared the vicinity of the house occupied as a residence by Frederick Lyon and his only child, Cleodice, the unfortunate God- dess of Liberty. “Tbhar’s the shebang whar the mare helds forth,” he said, closely watching the tramp, ready to take advantage of the first sign of re- treating. ‘‘ He’s likely to be at bum. thanks to the accident which come to bis gal. Thar you'll find him.” “Allright. You hein’t fergot what I said? You'll watch fer your Uncle Fuller to come out? An’ ef he don’t come out you'll bev the place starched? Mind, I make you my heir. Ef any- thin’ bappens to me, you’re to git an’ open an’ read that paper, an’tben act ozto what it tells ye <3 your idce o’ jestice bids ye. You'll do all this : Aristabulus nodded. The earnestness with which the tramp spoke once more shook bis sus- picions, and be began to ask himself if there might not, after all, be some good foundation —— apparently wild assertions of Uncle er. ‘** Ef you ain’t out in two hours, I'll raise the hull town, an’ we'll find what’s left o’ ye, never you borry trouble, honey,” be said, earnestly. ‘“‘Trat’s all Lex. I wouldn’t rest easy in a grave ‘less leould take with me the knowledge that the p’izen critter who sent me thar was a- ittin’ of his just desarts,” said the tramp, cross- ing the street and rapping sharply at the oor. Almost instantly it was silently opened, and Uncle Fuller involuntarily sbrunk back, throw- ing up an arm as though to guard his head, as he recognized the face and figure of Frederick Lyon befure him, But he appsrently bed ro cause for fear, for with a gentle smile, the mine-owner politely asked: *“*Good-afternoon, my dear sir. Can I do anvthing for you?” Uncle Fuller cast a hasty glanee over bis shoulder which showed him the Barnacle watching them with wide-open eyesand mouth, ss lent him the necessary nerve, and he re- plied: - I want to see the mare, on pa’ticular busi- ** { believe I occupv that honorable position,” with a low laugh, moving back to permit the aoe) <3 com (E (E(o)