Beadle's Dime Library No. 317 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

- Frank Lightfoot, the Miner Detective. 17 ward, after extorting the truth from him; but he was so wholly at the mercy of Lightfoot that he durst not rebel. ‘You say you have run down William Court- right, the murderer for whom, twenty years ago or so, there was a large reward offered, Are you positive you have made no mistake?’ the Miner Detective resumed, after a brief silence, Uncle Fuller looked into his face, as though hoping to read there the answer which wouid give the best satisfaction to the being whom of all others on earth he the most feared; butin vain. The countenance of a sphinx could not have been more inscrutible. ‘*[ kin take my solemn Bible ’davy to him,” he muttered in dogged desperation. ‘‘Did you ever see the man, or are you trust- ing solely to your memory of the description ublished at the time, or of bis pictures as pub- ished for the purpose of identification!” “T see’d him then—see’d him not six hours afore the murder was done, JI was the man as kerried the news to Cherry Crick an’ brung back the crowd as sot in the crowner’s ’quest over the remains. I toted a pictur’ o’ him fer poe afore | lost it, an’ ef [ wasa paintin’ man, could make another from mem’ry that you couldn’t tell from the ’riginal.” ‘* Be careful—twenty years is a long time,” ‘** An’ so’s the mem’ry o’ your Uncle Fuller,” was the dogged reply. ‘I knowed the p’izen critter as soon’s I sot my two eyes onto him, when I come bere ’cordin’ to the d’rections as Sheeny Jake give me afore he hopped the twig. I stan’ ready to sw’ar out a infermation, ef you want it afore takin’ the critter, an’ ef it don’t turn out jest as I say, you kin take the pay for your trouble out o’ the old man’s hide.” “‘He is living herein town, then? Well off, or poor?” **Rich enough to make the pendent fortins of a dozen pore critters like your Uncle Fuller, and then not miss the ducats out o’ bis pile!” spitefully snapped the tramp. Scarcely were the words out of his mouth ere he realized the mistake be had made, He saw a cold smile curled the lips of the Miner Detec- tive, and fairly shook with sullen fear as he listened to the measured speech: ‘Rich, yet a criminal to whom discovery and arrest means death on the gallows! Rich —able to pay a fortune for liberty—and you his discoverer? Really, Uncle Fuller, I wonder that you did not go to the rich man and offer to relieve bim of a portion of his wealth!” The lips of the tramp parted to utter a hasty denial, but with that steady, cold gaze resting upon his face, be dared not speak tbe words. Sullenly, viciously, be growled: “"Tain’t no use tryin’ to throw dust into your eyes. I did do jest that, I went to him, sayin’ I’d hold my clapper till the crack o’ doom, ef he’d make a fa’r settlement,” ‘* Which of course he did? Yet you are now offering to sell bim to justice!” ** You know he didn’t do nothin’ o’ the sort,” sourly. ‘‘He kicked me out 0’ the house like a durned dog, he did!” ‘* And served you perfectly right, too!” ex- claimed the Miner Detective, with sudden heat, his eyes flashing, the veins beginning to swell on his temples. ‘‘A cur like you face a gentle- man of truth and honor with such a base pro- posal! I only wonder he left a whole bone in your vile carcass!” “He didn’t dast—he knowed I held him by the—” ‘“‘ Enough of that idle boasting and lying, you cur!” grated the detective, tapping the tramp on his shoulder, ‘* You want to go a little slow. You want to keep your tongue between your teeth after this. If you dare to utter so much as a hint concerning this ridiculous idea of yours, up you go, sure!” Then rage conquered fear, and tbe tramp snarled savagely: ‘*T knowed it! You want to cheat me out o’ my jest dues! You've see’d the critter, an’ he’s bougbt you up, body an’—” Uncle Fuller never finished that sentence. A resistless grip was fastened upon him. He was raised from the floor and carried across to the ae window, One fierce shake, such as a ewfoundland dog migbt give an impudent terrier, then he was dropped through the open- ing, to plupge down to the ground, a wild yell of terror escaping his lips and attracting the attention of the men at work in the stable-yard, hard by, ‘CHAPTER XV. FRANK LIGHTFOOT DOES BATTLE WITH HIMSELF. THE room which Frank Lightfoot occupied was in the second story, its one window looking out upon a stable-yard, with a prospect far more matter-of-fact and odoriferous than romantic. Almost directly beneath the window a large pile of manure had been permitted to collect, and it was fairly upon this that Uncle Fuller dropped, the shock cutting short his wild yells of terror. He sunk to his knees in the offal, then rolled headlong down its sloping side, lunging into a shallow puddle of drainings, oundering from thence to dry land, where he lay groaning and lamenting like one not long for this vile cruel world. His screams for help alarmed the laborers at the stables and more than one of them were witnesses of his rapid descent from the window. Almost before the tramp rolled into the pond to take anything but a scented and perfumed bath, these witnesses were on the spot, eager to see all there was to be seen. “Ef I’m killed, it’s him that done it!” groan- ed Uncle Fuller, as a strong hand caught and dragged him out of the filth. ‘‘ With my dyin’ breath I say it—Frank Lightfoot done the bloody deed! ’Rest bim—bang him—roast him, an’ your Uncle Fuller ‘ll die happy!” Instinctively all eyes were turned toward ghe window through which the tramp had passed, and seeing that an explanation would quickly be demanded if it were nut volunteered, the Miner Detective thrust his head out of the window, ‘* Gentlemen, the poor devil don’t know what he is saying when be accuses me of throwing him out of the window. When I allow myself to go to that extreme, be sure [Il pick a harder spot for my antagonist to ligbt on than that!” There was a little burst of laughter from the stablemen at this remark, and Uncle Fuller groaned with redoubled fervor, partly because he really imagined himself worse burt then actually was the case, partly because be knew that while men laughed, they never lynched. It was afrail hope, but if the honest citizens could be made believe that he was the victim of a foul attempt at murder, their just indigna- tion might avenge him before cool reason de- manded a closer investigation. ‘*He wanted to kill me ’cause I knowed too much!” he muttered buskily, clear enough for those around him to understand, but so low that his meaning could only be guessed at by the man at the window above. ‘I’m dyin’ a murdered man—an’ me old enough fer to be his gran’father—oh-ah!” The laughter ceased abruptly, and some of the faces turned toward the window where Frank Lightfoot stood were growing dark, and menacing, when the young man cried out clear- Mh The poor devil has been drinking until his boots are running over with snakes and he don’t know what he is saying or doing. To escape them, he jumped out of the window. Sober bim off, and you'll see that I am giving it to you straight as a string, gentlemen. Take him and give bim a good bath—it wont hurt him any, from the smell heis kicking up! And then oe bim in drinking the good health of yours truly! As he uttered these words, Frank Lightfoot tossed a gold coin through the window. It was caught by one of the stablemen, and when its denomination was seen, an enthusiastic cheer | went up for the donor. ‘*Durred ef the critter don’t stan’ in need o’ somethin’ o’ the sort!” laughed one of the men. ‘*Ketch holt an’ le’s de the job up in style, mates! Hold your nose with one han’ an’ freeze onto the animile with t’other—hoop-la!” Frank Ligbtfoot smiled grimly as he watched the proceedings, Despite his frantic struggles and howling curses, the vigor of which told plainly enough that Uncle Fuller had suffered slight damage in his speedy descent, the tramp was dragged across the yard to the pump. Two men beld bim beneath the spout, while their comrades took turns in working the bandle, cheered on in their labor of bumanity by the yells and cheers of the steadily growing crowd attracted by those doleful cries. Uncle Fuller fought and struggled as well as he was able, but all in vain bis efforts, He was fated to be more thoroughly washed that day than he bad ever been in his life since the days of babyhood were left bebind him! The Landlord and one or two others rushed up to the room at the first alarm, and Frank Light- foot quiet] ve them an explanation which proved entirely satisfactory. ‘*The fellow imposed upon me with a cock and bull story, and I brought him up here to investigate his claims. They not only proved without the slightest foundation in fact, but the rascal had the impudence to try to bulldoze me, and I dropped bim out of the window as the quickest method of getting rid of bim.” ‘*He kinder groans like be was bad hurt,” cautiously ventured the Landlord, “Tf he is, I am responsible. If he or any other person wishes to interview me, show them up, please. Good day, gents!” He bowed them to the door, closed and locked it, then returned to the window just in time to turn the tide in his favor and doom the unluck tramp to the pump-cure. He watched this grimly humorous scene for a few moments, then closed the window and strode rapidly, silently back and forth across the chamber, his brows contracted, bis blue eyes glowing redly, his teeth set so firmly as to make his strong jaws seem even more resolute and squarer than ordinary, Now and then he would pause for a few mo- ments, his eyes staring ot vacercy, his firm features relaxing. At such times words and names passed his lips in broken and disconnect- | ed sentences. Little es could have been made of these by an eavesdropper, they served as a sort of escape valve, and little by little the strongly agitated man grew calmer and more like his usual self, In one of bis turns across the room, a wild, prolonged cheer reached his ears, and recalled to the present he looked out through the win- dow, with which he was then in close contact. He saw the stablemen release Uncle Fuller, having given bim bath enough for the present, He saw the balf-drowned rascal shambie away, leaving a wet trail behind him, seemingly thinking only of bow be could get clear of In- dependence City and the little mob of hooting, cheering, laughing, jeering men and children who formed his escort—not of bonor, bowever! ‘*They’ve Jet bim off with life,” the Miner Detective muttered. unconsciously uttering his thougbts aloud. ‘‘He looks bumble erough now, but tbere’s too much poison in bis com- position for him to wait long before striking back, He dare not assail me directly, bur he’! try to stab me through William Courtright. Ha!” he exclaimed, catching bis breath und turning a shade paler as bis eyes glittered like balls of Jiving fire. ‘‘He said he had heen to see bim—that he offered him immunity for money! What if William Courtright bas taken the alarm end fled?” Slowly Frank Lightfoot turned away from the window and dropped into a chair hejside the table. On this be rested bis elbows, his chin supported by his c'inched bands, bis gaze fastened on vacarcy. His brain was busy, the thoughts that chased each other so rapidly tbrough his mind causing the veins to swell and stand out on his temples until it seemed as though they must burst from the pressure to which they were subjected. It will be remembered that Uncle Fuller had not mentioned the name of Frederick Lyon once during that interview. As will be shown, Frank Lightfoot felt so perfectly convinced that Jeter Burgess was the escaped assassin. William Courtright, that be took it for granted the tramp alluded to bim. By a curious chain of circumstances, it br- came the life-work of this young man to hunt down and bring to justice the man who soiled his hands with the blood of his own brother and his brother’s wife, twenty years ago. By facts and proofs which he deemed irrefragahle, Frank Lightfoot came to Incependence City convinced that he would find the criminal in Jeter Burgess, which, possibly, was the reason why his suspicions never once turned toward Frederick Lyon, though, as seen, the resem- blance between the partners in the Liberty mine was strong. ‘Tf he bas fled, I must follow bim!” muttered the Miner Detective, unwittingly giving audi- ble utterance to his thoughts. ‘*And yet— I would give my good right arm if it was any- body but Jeter Burgess—but her father!” The secret wes out now. It was not Jove for Jeter Burgess that beld the hand of the avenger back, but love for bis fair child, Mora. Though of recent growth—for never a word had the twain exchanged one month prior to that eventful day of rejoicing—the passion felt by the young detective was none the less intense and absorbing. It had caused him to! old back the band which had sworn to drag the mur- derer to the gallows, It made him hesitate even yet, while be fancied tbe assassin was flee- ing from justice, warned by Uncle Fuller, “Tf Lcould—if he was only alive to take back that terr‘ble oath! What is it to me, thos» dead people? Why should I give over every hope—why should J bury my happiness forever in their graves? And bers, too! If I could only think it~—if I could only be certain that the little darling loves me in return—bah!” with a hord, forced laugh, lifting his bead and tossing back the ag: hair from bis eyes. He rose to his feet and passed over to a strong, carefully locked valise. Opening this, be took out a clasped note-book, opening it as be returned to the table. From the book he took several pictures. one of which he selected and gazed at it steadily, bis eyes burning redly, his face hard-set and frowning. It was the fece of a young man, bandsome and even refined in its contour, though the style of dress seemed odd to the eyes which be- longed to the present generation of this fast- living country. Though so much younger in appeerance, Frank Ligbtfoot could detect a strong resem. blance between it and the face of Jeter Burgess as he recalled itto mind. And with something that sounded curiously like a groan, he dropped the card. ‘*There can be no mistake. Jeter Burgess is William Courtright, and [ have solemnly vowed to bring him to the justice which he bas evaded these twenty years. I took the oath willingly, my hand on the heart of the dead, his voice still ringing in my ears. I took up the task where Calvin Apperley resigned it for the grave—took itupasasacred duty which lowed tohim, I have followed the blind lead until it became clear, until I could place my hand on tie shoulder of the merciless wretch who cruelly butebered two loving relatives, and forever oeye) .S com (E (Ele)