Beadle's Dime Library No. 317 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

-- _—-- = — oe * — ~- - ~_— OPES we ee ome Ee ee a -~ + ee tee —__ .__o- ee ae ' A, ——- — Frank Lightfoot, the Miner Detective. it with a lot 0’ sech whisky us them fer private drinkin’—an’ the commoner stuff fer customers ; give your Uncle Fuller a written paper bindin yourself to keep the shebang runnin’ ontel the ole man peters out fer good; an’ he won't ax you nothin’ more fer holdin’ of his tongue.” ‘* You are sure this isall you would demand?” “Sart’?in sure! Good .Lord, boss! fix it jes’ so, an’ your Uncle Fuller’d be nigher beaven then he ever hoped to git in this world—’deed he jes’ would, honey!’ enthusiastically cried the tramp, licking bis lips, his eyes all aglow. ‘Your demands are modest enough, and were I the runaway murderer, I would most assured- ly accept them without haggling fora moment,” gravely uttered the mine-owner, rising from bis chair and deliberately putting on a pair of dark kid gloves. Uncle Fuller stared at the speaker, his lower jaw dropping, his eyes protruding, the delight- ful castle in the air beginning to topple and drop to pieces. Could it be that his cornered prey was about to make a fight for escape? ‘““You have admitted giving false testimony before the coroner’s jury in this case. You own to knowing where the real assassin is con- cealed, under a fictitious name, and have be- trayed your willingness to compound a das- tardly crime for the sake of a consideration in money or goods. Were it left to you, rs would still further cheat justice of her rights; but fortunately you have exposed your hand to an honest man, and unless you aid in the cap- ture of this murderer, you shall suffer the penalty due your crime.” As he spoke, Frederick Lyon passed around the table and dropped one gloved hand heavily upon the shoulder of the trembling, bewildered rascal, shaking him as though to awaken him to a full sense of the words he so sternly ut- red: ‘‘T will give you just one week in which to point out them an you declare to be William Courtright, the escaped assassin. At the end of that period, if the greater criminal is not in the hands of tke law, I will denounce you as an accessory to the fact, if not an actual partici- ant in the double murder, And every dollar Taoaten--cvert atom of influence I can com- mand—shall be employed to bring you to pun- isbment! ‘* And now for your insult to me pees You hinted, if you did not ask for a bribe in so many words, For insulting me thus, I will treat you as I would any other cowardly black- mailer, Get up, you contemptible cur!” There was nothing of lassitude in the look or actions of the mine-owner now. His hands closed on the tramp with the power and tena- city of steel springs, lifting him bodily from his seat, running bim helplessly from the room, through the entry and to the outer door. Hold- ing him with a vise-like grip by the neck, Frederick Lyon opened the door with his free hand, then kicked Uncle Fuller half-way across the street. And staring curiously, the Barnacle saw the action. CHAPTER XIV, MAN’S INGRATITUDE TO MAN, AND as he watched this acrobatic perform- ance on the part of this recently made partner of his, Aristabulus Boythorn once more chang- ed “r, opinion of the dilapidated-looking Argo- naut, _ Though not ordinarily a fickle man, the Bar- nacle bad appeared in that role ever since Uncle ‘Fuller put in an appearance at Independence City. Regarded by the veteran in the first place as a degraded tramp, then elevated to the position of broken-down gentleman, from his wonderful capacity for holding bad whisky. From this to that of a fraud, when cowed by the steady gaze of Frank Lightfoot. Still lower when the theft of the bottle was discovered, Raised once more to his own level as the Barna- cle listened to the fluent description of that won- derful bonanza. And as Aristabulus watched the bold air with which Uncle Fuller rapped at the mayor’s door—as he saw how politelv Fred- erick Lyon received the disreputable-looking caller—as the door closed behind them and the minutes rapidly rolled up into an bour, bis re- spect and good opinion grew in the same pro- ion, until the worthy Barnacle felt like tak- g off his hat and bowing respectfully to the honorable genius in disguise. Only to have the newly-raised idol shattered forever as the door opened and Uncle Faller flew across’ the street under the powerful im- Eane lent him by the boot and muscular leg of he mine-owner, Uncle Fuller struck on his feet, bounced for- ward as though made of rubber, tripping and falling to his bands and knees, then shufflin ahead rapidly in the endeavor {fo save himsel aay plowing up the hard soil with his face. be instant his mad career was arrested, a bowl of mingled oes and rage escaped bis lips. He turned toward the house, rubbing the worst ye ee spot with one hand, while the other mere tightly and was shaken savagely, as be varled: , “You dassen’t do it ag’in! Vil git even with ye fer this, durn an’ double-durn ye! An’ mea ole man!” His voice broke and there were tears of pain and sbamein the bleared eyes which he turned upon the Barnacle. ‘“Did ye see it, pard? Did ye see how the dirty dog treated me? An’ me a ole, broken- down man, only fit fer the grave,” ‘‘There’s plenty o’ young blood into ye yit,” laughed the Barnacle, taking no notice of the trembling hand which the Argonaut extended towardhim, ‘ Plenty o’ young blood an’ beaps o’ life, or you’d never play leap-frog like that ! The good land o’ liberty, man! ef I could on’y ’a’ tuck your pictur’ when you was cuttin’ up them didoes, they ain’t a young an’ rich an’ ate grass widder in seventeen States what wouldn’t give hafe her fortin’ fer the fu’ss chaince at ye—haw! haw! Go’way circurivus actors! You hain’t got no aige onto him! Of all the high-kickin’ an’ top-lofty tumblin’ show-ups, them was the outdoin’est I ever see’d!” Uncle Fuller grinned a most gbastly grin, dividing a savage glare between the Barnacle and the house wherein his enemy dwelt, If hatred could have slain, neither of the twain would have drawn another breath of life. But just then Uncle Fuller needed aid and consola- tion, and so he smothered his anger at the blunt humor of the veteran as best he could, saying in husky tones: “Pizen funny fer them that jest looked on, I don’t doubt; but them leugh best what laughs last. He’s got to pay big fer his little fun, an’ with you to bolp the ole man, I reckon your Uncle Fuller kin fetch bis nose down tothe grindstone an’ hold it thar ontel he bleeds gold at every pore! What—” The Barnacle drew back, placing his hands behind him, his gray head shaking slowly as he eyed the refused hand. ‘* Not any more in mine, thankee! Ef you’re too good fer the mare to ’sociate with in his own house, you’re too good fer the likes o’ me. The pardnership atween us two is ’solved this day, an’ ef anybody axes you what brung it about, jest tell ’em it was too big a dose o’ boot-leather, scribed an’ ’ministered by Doctor Mare, Ex- quire. Good-day! When you see me comin’, please to pass over to the other side o’ the street.” This was the sharpest, unkindest cut of all; and there was something almost like tears in the bleared eyes of the broken-down bummer as he watched the still erect and powerful form of the Barnacle moving away. Butonly for a brief space; then his evil nature showed itself in the furtive shaking of a clinched fist, in the muttered threat: **Go biome way, you bull-headed dog! I'll git even with ye fer this, ef it takes ten year’!” Slowly, painfully, Uncle Fuller limped away from the scene of bis utter discomfiture, bis brain in a whirl, trying vainly to shape some plan by which he might gain his long-cherished ends and at the same time avenge his injuries, And it was just as he was on the point of giving over in despair when, in turning a corner, be al- most ran into Frank Lightfoot. Heinustinctively recoiled, andthe Miner Detective was passing on witbout noticing bim, when Uncle Fuller acted on the yee of the moment, shambling for- ward and catching the young man by the sleeve, buskily muttering: ‘IT know whar the p’izen ’sassinator lives, an’ kin putt your ban’ onto him inside the hour!” Lightfoot recoiled a paco, bis bronzed face turning a shade lighter, a curious glow in his big blue eyes. At the same time he struck that grimy paw from hisarm. Uncle Fuller dodged back like one expecting a blow, and his tone was almost a snarl as he uttered: “All right, ef ye don’t wantit. I kin give the job to some other gent jes’ as well.” ‘What job? What assassin do you mean?’ demanded Frank, ‘““The Courtright mess—you know,” grinned Uncle Fuller, holding himself in readiness to continue the interview or to flee in hot haste, as circumstances migbt render prudent, Still Frank Lightfoot hesitated, naturally loth to have any confidential dealings with one whom he knew to be so utterly worthless as to be witbout a single redeeming quality. Feeling sure himself that the man who now called bim- self Jeter Burgess was in reality the escaped murderer whom his solemn vow bound him to hunt down to death on the gallows, be had no other thought than that Uncle Fuller alluded to bim. For reasons which will be made clearer as we progress, Frank Lightfoot was exceed- ingly loth to have the affair made common property, and as the surest safeguard against aan a resolved to hear the informer’s story in private. “If you are sure you have anything to say that is worth my listening to, come with me to my room,” he said, coldly, turning on his beel, one band closing on the arm of the tramp. Uncle Fuller involuntarily shrunk back as he felt that firm grasp, almost sorry that he had spoken: but it was too late to think of retreat- ing. From past experience, be knew that Frank Lightfoot was not one to permit such ng. - Brief as was their passage to the hotel in ~ OOO SSS which the Miner Detective had rooms, it was long enough for Uncle Fuller to decide on bis course of action. And when Lightfoot motion- ed bim to a cbair beside the table, be promptly opened his batteries, his voice a subdued whine, bis bruised countenance assuming its most dele- ful expression. ‘It’s bin a beap o’ work an’ a powerful lot o’ ’spense to your Uncle Fuller, runnin’ the p’izen critter to earth, boss! Nigh twenty years on the trail—think o’ that! An’ now the eend draws nigh, it finds the ole man broken down, without a dollar to cross hisself with, an’ too weak in body fer to do the ’restin’ part bis own self. It comes mighty bard, boss!” Frank Lightfoot flung out one band with a gesture of contemptuous aversion as he made reply, not to the words but to the meaning of his unsavory visitor, ‘‘The blood-money shall be yours, if your in- formation leads to the arrest of the criminal! I am after, never fear for that. As for the twenty years, how many of those were spent in the employ of the State?” Uncle Fuller sbrunk a little more into bhim- self, but there was a foxy light in his bleared eyes and a sickly smile on bis bruised face as he whined forth bis reply: ‘‘ They was sot down to your credit, any way, boss.” ‘A portion of them, you mean,” was the cold reply. ‘Bah! you graceless cur! do you thirk I haven’t learned your record from start to finish? That you can name a single year of your life that I cannot tell where and bow it was spent? If so, you are ’way off. Iwas set to work at your record in days gone by, and I never take up a thing without carrying it to the very end, If you keep this fact in mind, per- haps it will save you some breath if not broken bones,” ‘‘ I'm a ole man—” ‘‘ And doubly aged in crime and deviltry of the meanest description, Tell me sometbing I don’t know.” This was not a promising opening for Uncle Fuller, and he felt that his precious, long-gloated- over bonanza was rapidly fading away into nothingness. But at the same time he realized that it was neck or nothing with him now; since be bad betrayed his secret to this young blood- hound, he could only go on and make a clean breast of it, trusting to his honor and generos- ity for bis reward. ‘*Mebbe it’s more’n the ole man kin do, but he'll try,” he uttered, shifting uneasily on his seat and licking his parched lips. ‘* You’ve hearn tell o’ the Courtright murder, down Den- ver-way, which tuk place in the year 64, in course?” ‘* Why of course?’ coldly demanded the de- tective. ** Waal, I thought—I kinder reckoned—” ‘*That I was following that old trail?’ with an uplifting of the eyebrows asin surprise, ‘‘ You don't mean to sav that you have struck the scent of that criminal?’ ** Deed I jest does, boss!” grinned the tramp, his natural impudence wholly restored. ‘‘I kin putt my two paws onto Bill Courtright, the crit- ter as murdered an’ then ars’sicked his own born brother an’ wife, any minit I see fit to do it!” “Then he is living here in Independence ity?’ “Waal, mebbe I stretched it jest a little bit, when I said any minit,” slowly replied the tramp, already racking his cunning brain fora trick of which he might satisfy the detective, yet still keep the long cherished bonanza to him- self. ‘*I didn’t mean fer to say quite so much as them, but—” “Since you have started by speaking the truth, suppose you keep on in the same trail?’ sharply uttered the detective. ‘‘ With the first lie you dare to tell me, Pll remember the past, and clap the bracelets on you as the first step to sending you back to serve out the rest of your sentence.” ‘‘But you said you—” ‘“Steady, my man! As yet I only know you as Uncle Fuller, a broken down gentleman who has seen better days; don’t try to freshen my memory too soon, if you value your liberty.” Again the tramp was cast into the depths, from the bottom of which came the husky, whining tones: ‘What shell a pore critter do? What you want bim tosay? Durned ef your Uncle Fuller ain’t a'most sorry he was ever bornded into sech a pizen cruel worl’—‘deed he is, now!’ ‘What do I want?’ coldly repeated the de- tective, his magnetic gaze fixed upon the uneasy tramp. ‘To make you understand your proper lace and sbow you the worse than folly of try- ng to rise above it while you are dealing with me. I know you as you are: a cowardly, treacherous, canting cur. Act out your real na- ture, and don’t try to pass yourself off for any- thing better. When you show that you have fairly learned this lesson, I will suffer you to tell your story.” Uncle Fuller showed his teeth, but it was with the belpless fear of a captured rabbit, rather than the dangerous despair of a cornered wolf, Judging others by himself, he believed that the detective intended to reb bim of his coveted re- Gomicbooks G (E (0)