Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 340 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

en - — ee a ————eeeVOOoooeoooooo ne ns ed - . “‘T}l do it,” ‘said Cool Conrad; but he did not take the extended hand. ‘I make no threats, Doctor Pablo. You hold your future in your hands. Good-by.” And while the scheming Mexican stared, Cool Conrad vanished.. ‘‘He knows who sent Tunis to his doom, but he knows naught of my identity,” murmured the detective. ware!” That was all. A short time afterward Cool Conrad, as Va- uero Van, appeared at the door of Oregon oll’s cabin and bestowed a light rap upon it. ‘* Welcome, Vaquero,” exclaimed Captain Noll, as he admitted his visitor into the apart- ment, whose lamp showed Monte Merle asleep on the blanket-cot on the floor. ‘* You’re clever ter keep me company. Monte ther, sleeps likea log, thanks ter Doctor Pablo’s potion. Ef Tunis’d drop in, we'd send him ter Hank’s arter a couple ov straights.” Tunis! Cool Conrad did not start, though he knew that Tunis would never serve his master any more. He would have answered in some manner if the quick gallop of a horse had not struck their ears at that moment. ‘‘Mebbe that’s Silver Chick comin’ back,” said Oregon Noll with a glance at Conrad. ‘‘I hope it is. We want him hyer jest now.” The two men, waited in silence for a moment while the noise of hoofs grew more distinct. “Tt is the Chick!” cried Captain Noll. * Thar! we'll see him in a second.” The unseen horse had come to a halt in front of the cabin, and the men inside heard some one alight on the ground. n another moment the door was flung open, and the well-known face of Oregon Noll’s right- bower appeared in view. ‘* Back ag’in!” cried the boss of Pistol City. ‘* Yes, an’ with news, too! We've been hood- winked ag’in, Noll. f didn’t find the person who gave Monte Merle the knife, but I discov- ered— Great Jehu!” He had not seen Cool Conrad till that mo- ment. Their eyes met, Silver Chick’s fuil of accusa- tion, Cool Conrad’s blazing with defiance. Silver Chick step clear inside, shut the door and braced his broad back against it. ‘*Captain,” he said, ‘thet man’s playin’ a double game.” And his outstretched hand des- ignated Cool Conrad. ‘‘He’s never been Va- quero Van before ter-night.” ‘*That’s a fact, Silver Chick,” said the de- tective. ‘‘I am Cool Conrad of Dakota, the avenger of the boy you hung!” The two sports started back, but the detec- tive’s revolvers already covered them. CHAPTER XI. HOW THE CHICK GOT HIS CLEW. “HeLLo thar! In ther name ov creation, who ar’ you?” The man who uttered these words leaned for- ward from a saddle and with a cocked revolver in his right hand, looked into the face of the man who stood on the mountain trail where the. mellow moonlight fell. It was several hours before the scene that closes the foregoing chapter, and fifteen miles west of the gold camp. “Who am I?” was the answer. ‘‘ Why can’t yer see?—a human bein’, like yerself!” ‘*T kin see thet plain enough, but that doesn’t satisfy me. Confess ter me at once thet you ar’ ther Dakota Tiger what got out ov Monte Merle’s cage in ’Frisco, or I'll paint ther trail with the contents ov yer brain-box!” The man addressed was well built and dark- faced, but iS Sa peer and he had on ordinary clothes t did not seem to fit him any too well. ‘I am Jeff Banning,” he said in response to the threat just made. ‘I’m no tiger, an’ I’ve never been caged either.” “T don’t know about that,” was the reply by the man in the saddle. ‘I’m Silver Chick, ov Pistol City, a reg’lar hyena on two paws, when I’m riled, an’ I give ye fair warnin’, Mr. Ban- nin’, thet I’m not in ther best o’ humor ter-night. See hyer! them clothes don’t fit yer anatomy. Thet coat’s a little tight at ther shoulder. You’ve traded with some one,” The man in the trail seemed to start under the keen eyes of Silver Chick. “‘T’'d like ter know who a fellar could trade suits with in this part ov ther moral vineyard,” he said, assuming a bold front which was rather overdone. ‘* With a certain chap 1 perpee in this region —with a man who writes his name ‘ Noah Nel- son’ on hotel registers, but who is in reality a different kind o’ hair-pin. Look me squar’ly in ther eye, Mr. Jeff Bannin’. I’m not goin’ ter stand any monkeyin’ at this quarter ov ther game. You might stand thar in them clothes an’ hoodwink a tenderfoot, but I’m an old bird. Out with the truth! Yer clothes don’t fit yer, an’ besides I know a vaquero when I see one. You may be American born by yer name, but thar’s mixed blood in yer. Who robbed yer?” ** Nobody,” said the man in the trail. *“‘ Then it war a free trade, eh?’ { rr LL There was no reply, but Mr. Jeff Banning threw a quick glance over his shoulder. @uick as a flash Silver Chick caught the furtive look, and: his revolver crept several pea: nearer the man so unexpectedly discoy- ered. ‘““Thar’s no gittin’ away from me till I’m ‘*Let the Mexican whelp be-| through with yer!” the gold desperado said. ‘‘ Now, Mr. Bannin’, you will open yer truth trunk an’ display its contents. Who wore yer clothes afore they got on yer back?” There was fire in Silver Chick’s eyes, and he spoke in tones that told the man that he meant stern business, ‘* All right!” exclaimed Oregon Noll’s lieu- tenant after a moment’s silence. ‘‘If you ar’ oe, ter be stubborn, Vl proceed ter lay yer out, The threatened man saw the keen eyes drop to a level with the revolver intowhich he had been forced to look. ‘* Hold!” he cried throwing up one hand. ‘Tm not goin’ ter be killed forany man. Ill give you ther truth, Silver Chick.” A faint smile crossed the desperado’s features. ‘‘Thet’s both sensible an’ timely,” he said. ‘Now, go on. Til be j dge ov yer statements, an’ef I think you lie, Pll touch this trigger. Proceed!” ‘*T am Captain Banning whar I hold forth in the Southwest. I am cattle-owner an’ hacienda proprietor. I war on my way ter ’Frisco from a tour ov the back mines, when I came suddenly upon an old she grizzly thet frightened my hoss inter a runaway, an’ left me afoot in ther moun- tains. | war cussin’ my luck about sundown, when I heard a hoss comin’, an’ thought it war my own huntin’ me up, an’ ashamed ov himself for runnin’ off. By Jupiter! I felt glad about thet time, for I hed tramped it afoot till my feet war sore. mile came along, an’ all at once ran afoul ov me; but thunder! it warn’t Lightning Wing, my hoss.” ‘*Ov course not,” said Silver Chick, as the man paused. “The hoss thet came up afore I could git out ov the road hed a rider, an’ he hed me kivered afore my fingers could get at my shooters. Thet man wore ther clothes I’ve got on now, an’ I hed on a reg’lar vaquero suit, such as I heva right to wear.” ilver Chick seemed on the eve of giving vent to an exclamation, but he suppressed it and waited for the vaquero to proceed. ‘“Ther moment he sot eyes on me I saw thet suthin’ war about ter happen,” Jeff Banning went on, after a short pause. ‘‘He made a ee ter trade clothes, but I didn’t want r. Then he leaned forward an’ jammed his revolver inter my face while he said, ‘* Trade er die!” It war a ticklish situation fer Jeff Ban- ning, I tell yer, pard. He had me at his mercy, an’ | saw ‘shoot’ in his black eyes as plainly as i ever saw death in a rattler’s.” ‘* Ter cut a long story short,” said Silver Chick impatiently, ‘** vou traded?” ‘** By Jove! I had ter!” was the reply, as the vaquero attempted a smile. ‘I had ter doff my duds in front ov his pistol, and he shed his’n uicker nor lightnin’, and tossed ’em at my feet. hen what d’yer think he did next?” ‘* Took yer shooters?” ** No. e made me take an oath thet Id never give ther trade away, and thet I'd tramp on ter ‘Frisco, ov course in a happy mood.” ‘* An’ you swore?” asked Silver Chick eagerly. ‘*‘ Jehu! I had ter! But what does a forced oath amount ter? In my opinion, it doesn’t bind worth a curse.” ‘*Ov course it doesn’t,” said the gold sport. **t know whar I kin lay my hands on this galoot who masquerades in yer clothes, Jefferson. Won’t I show him the flash ov ther best revol- ver in Californy when I strike Pistol City ag’in?” ‘Ts he thar?” asked the vaquero, **T should remark! He struck camp this forenoon an’ introduced himself as Vaquero Van, from ther cattle region. Hang me! ef he didn’t hoodwink me completely. He looks no more like Noah Nelson in yer clothes than a Digger looks like a pats He’s thar now, but wait till I git back! Hades! but [ll create a sensation. Shall we plant ’im in yer clothes, Vaquero Jeff.” **T don’t keer what you do with ’im,” was the reply. “Tm di enough ter tramp it all ther way ter Frisco, but you kin bet yer life thet I'll never mention this durned trade ter any one.” ‘You wouldn't like ter go to camp, eh?” The vaquero seemed to recoil an inch at the suggestion. ‘Thet’s out o’ my way,” he said, but it was evident that the presence there of the man he had betrayed shaped his anr ‘er. What! go to Pistol City ai_1 face the man who was playing a desperate game in his clothes? Jeff Banning might be a co eous man in the country of the vaqueros, but he had not nerve ran ead this scene. one declination was no surprise to Silver ick, It made his eyes twinkle, however, with a con- temptuous light for the vaquero’s courage. Cool Conrad, the Dakota Detective. I wanted thet hoss ther worst | kind, I tell yer, Silver Chick. Wal, thet ani- | 11 ‘‘ Thar war nothin’ ov value on yer clothes?” asked the gold sport. ** Nothin’.” ‘* An’ you found nothin’ on his thet rewards you for ther swap?” ‘‘ Nary loot,” smiled the vaquero. *‘ He threw my purse back with his suit, That man, who- ever he is, is not a robber.” ‘*That’s a fact, I guess. He’s huntin’ suthin’ more precious than money—blood !” ‘““Yers, Silver Chick?” asked the vaquero, with deep-seated curiosity. ° ‘‘The blood. oy seven ov ther best men thet ever swore pardship,” was the quick reply. ‘‘T’m included in ther number; but he hasn't got thar yet.” Silver Chick straightened in the saddle as he finished and the revolver which a few minutes before had threatened the vaquero’s life was returned to its accustomed place in the desper- ado’s belt, ‘‘The seven pards ov Pistol City owe you the’r eternal thanks for yer story,” he continued. ‘‘ Arter a few days from date, you'll find us all in Frisco. We'll meet at Monte Merle’s. You know whar thet is?” ‘‘ Wal, I ought ter. I’ve chased the tiger all over ther house,” said Banning. ‘¢ We've all done that!” laughed Silver Chick. ‘‘T'm off fer ther camp now. I started out ter find ther villain thet cut Monte Merle, but I’ve run across a bonanza ov another kind. Won't I spoil Vaquero Van’s little game when I strike camp? To my thinkin’, the Dakota Tiger had better stayed at home!” He gathered up the reins and waved the man before him a parting salute, as he laughed in an- ticipation of the bloody work he expected to do when he got to Pistol City. ‘‘ Thar goes a thunderbolt ov flesh an’ blood!” ejaculated Jeff Banning, gazing after the man who was riding away. ‘If he shouldn’t make sure work of the g’loot in my clothes, I'll hev ter look out for him in the hereafter. I had ter *peach on *im, for what kin aman do but spit out the truth when a revolver almost touches his brain-pan, an’ when a devil in bronze holds a finger at ther trigger? Jewhilliker crickets! why didn’t I stay at home an’ play chuck with my cowboys? It’s now a tramp ter ’Frisco, an’ nothin’ else, for I don’t expect ter hev my hoss turn upany more. I hope Silver Chick, as he calls himself, will make no nristake when he meets the Satan. in my clothes.” The hoofs of Silver Chick’s horse had already ceased to sound on the ears of the unfortunate vaquero, and, after a short rest, he wearily re- sumed his tramp toward the city far away over leagues of wild trail, and through a country that bristled with perils. ‘‘No! I won’t tramp it ter Frisco,” he sud- denly exclaimed, as he came to a halt a mile be- yond the spot where he had encountered Silver Chick. ‘‘ That fellow with the big mustache an’ black eyes owes me a hoss for my information, an’ I’m goin’ ter make Pistol City yield me one. By the eternal skies! ['m goin’ ter ride ter Frisco!” He turned his face in the direction taken by Silver Chick, but had not advanced twenty paces when he was suddenly confronted by a rson who had stepped noiselessly into the cen- bak of the moonlit trail. ‘‘Thunder an’ lassoes!” cried Jeff Banning, | ing back, while one hand moved mechan- ically toward his revolver. ‘‘ I’ve just dismissed one unpleasant interviewer, an’ now I run afoul ov another.” ‘* No interviewer this time,” was the response. ‘‘You are not going to Pistol City. Keep your original resolution and go on to San cisco.” he vaquero saw that his confronter was backed by a horse and that the face and figure belonged to a woman. ‘You are not wanted in Pistol City,” contin- ued the confronter. ‘** An’ I’ve no special business in ’Frisco.” ‘* Perhaps not; but you'll be safe there.” ‘*Thet may be a fact, but by Jupiter! I’d like ter see the man who made me trade suits ter- night—T'd like ter see him dead, I mean.” ‘If he’s the man I think he is, he will take care of himself,” was the reply. ‘ Go to ’Fris- CO, Mr. Jeff Banning.” ‘ Are you goin’ that way?” **' No: J go to Pistol City.” The vaquero looked into the face of the speak- er a full minute before he spoke again. He saw before him a fair face with a pair of resolute eyes, a fine figure clothed in garments tbat reached midway between ankles and knees, leggins and a pair of shoes, one of which wore a spur. The glossy locks of the woman had been cut short, and her head was surmounted with a wide-brimmed felt hat, which lent her a roman- tic but somewhat brigandish appearance. She might have been past twenty, but in the moonlight she looked very young to the mixed- blood vaquero. ‘*Mebbe,” he said, at a venture—‘*t mebbe you're on a blood-hunt, too?” The eyes of the girl instantly flashed. ** Ah! I am!” she exclaimed. ‘‘ All the ene- mies I are in Pistol City. I sent one of them over this very trail with a knife under his <S GOM[EDOO (E() >,