Beadle's Dime Library No. 351 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

4 “J a i Pa | Le eS . wee ‘ee ~ es 2 Oss : ?* fe aM A Pi 18 ye—glory o’ the sort that tickles a man clean down to the tips o’ his toes, an’ makes him want to climb up a rainbow jest fer the fun o’ slidin’ down the other side!” ‘** That ain’t the sbhanty—or ef it is, somebody has bin thar ahead o’ us an’ found the bottle an’ dreened it dry—” *‘ Look yer, Ginger, none o’ that. Don’t ye go to croakin’ that-a-way, or blamed ef I don’t lay I was a ’stillery an’ run you through it! ’ve sot my teeth on hevin’ a good, squar drink afore I go any furder, an’ ef that bottle hes mizzled, PM squeeze enough o’ the extry juice out o’ you fer tryin’ to knock our ’ticipavions higher’n a kite—I will, sure /” he trio were rather more than two-thirds | drunk already. Early that morning they had left Rocky Bar, armed with rifles and side- arms, bound to bring in a deer, if only to prove their pretensions as mighty buniers before they took up the pick and drill as being more profit- able methods of exercise, They had supplied themselves with more liquid than dry ammunition, and as a natural consequence, they found little game, Mishap after misbap befellthem, They lost their way among the hills. They had nothing to eat, Water was scarce, ‘nd their fatigue led them to use up their whisky much more rapidly than they had counted on doing. Then came the crowning misfortune, already hinted at by the Grumbling Ginger. An unlucky stumble broke the bottle which they bad been holding in re- serve, and they were left as the sun sunk be- =o hill without a particle of ‘‘ snake medi- cine. But every cloud has its silver lining, and Wil- kins gave vent toa yell of triumph as a forgot- ten fact came into bis mind. A week or so be- fore, as be hastened to explain, he had lost a quart flusk of whisky. Half drunk at the time, be had been unable to find it, but now, in this emergency, his memory grew clear, and he knew that be had hiddén it in an old shanty some three or four miles from: Rocky Bar, where it no doubt was now awaiting them, Cross-questioning him only deepened his con- fidence, and as soon as they could get their bearings, the trio struck out for the cache, a\.d though they strayed widely, at times, they finally came out near the cabin, as detailed, Only pausing in the moonlighted road long enough to utter the solemn threat against his grumbling companion, Wilkins plunged forward and thrust the door open, blundering across the threshold, uttering a surly curse as he stumbled and nearly fell at full length over some ob- stacle, ‘* Eyes wide open tight, mates!’ he shouted, with an angry curse, ‘“‘Some low-down cuss hes jumped our claim, but ef he’s got drunk on my whisky, durned ef I don’t let it out o’ his skin with the p’int o’ my butcher—TI will, sure as shootin’!” “Strike a light! We'll take him on the jum if he tries to run away, or shows his teeth!” cried Matney. A hollow groan broke upon their hearing, so full of misery, of wretchedness, that Wilkins made one leap and crossed the threshold of the cabin, coming in violent contact with his mates, who grappled with him, using their fists and feet with drunken fury, taking him for the in- truder. ‘“We got the cuss—ugh |” Down in a heap the trio went together, a curse of anger bursting from Wilkins as he dealt Ginger a blow in the stomach that fairly knocked the wind out of him for the time. ‘*Durn yer fer two crazy idjits!” he snarled, tearing himself loose and scrambling to bis teet. **Cain’t ye tell a white man froma spook? Fer two cents I'd w’ar ye one out ag’iust the other tell ve cain’t see—’ ** Help—for the love of marcy, help!” came a gasping, husky voice from the interior of the cabin, and most effectually putting an end to the quarrel between the hunters, ‘“Come out an’ show yourself ef ye ain’t a dead critter!” spluttered Wilkins, drawing a re- volver, but standing his ground. ‘ Who be ye, an’ what’s the matter?” “Tim Toplift—so nigh murdered thar ain’t no funinit! They’s another dead man in here! Who’re you?” A ghastly, blood-stained face showed itself at the door, plainly visible in the clear moonlight, and a cry of amazement burst simultaneously from the lips of the three half-drunken bunters as they recognized the foreman of the Jealous Girl, well known to them ail. ‘“Who did it? Whar is they?” demanded Wilkins, with a swift glance around them, mov- ing quickly into the shadows. on’t leave me, boys—fer the love of heaven don’t run an’ leave me here no longer with this cold meat!” cried Toplift, and he dragged him- self across the threshold, ‘‘ He’s gone long ago —they ain’t no danger—don’t run away an’ leave a pore devil what cain’t belp hisself—” “Not a bit of it, mate!” responded Wilkins, now nearly sobered. ‘‘ Wewas jest on the look- out fer snags. We'll stick to ye ontel you're right eend up, bet your life!” ‘Who did it? What for?’ asked Matney. ‘Git me away from this hole—git medown to —— oe ee eS ee | town, fust. It wasa hellish trick—an’ me work- _in’ the flesh off o’ my four bones to sarve bim! But Vil git even—I’'ll git even!” __ The pore critter’s clean loony,” muttered _ Wilkins, in a low tone. ‘* Youtwo take a little | scoot ’round to see ef thar ain’t nobody hidin’ | nigh, while I strike a light an’ look into the shanty. Somebody dead, be says. Thar’s bin bloody black doin’s goin’ on here, an’ we must find out all we kin afore the scent grows too cold. Scoot, an’ keep all eyes open!” Ginger and Matney immediately obeyed, Nor’ West Nick, the Border Detective. while Wilkins hastily gathered a few dry twigs | _ which he ignited, and passing over the prostrate | form of Tim Toplift, entered the cabin. A ghastly sigbt met his gaze, and he started _back with a low cry of horror and indignation as hesaw what it had been over which he had stumbled but a short time before, Lying in the center of the one small room, flat upon bis back, with face upturned and arms flung out as though in the agony of sudden death, lay a corpse. A little pool of coagulated blood rested upon his bosom, marking where a long, keen blade had probed his heart, A fright- ful gash showed across his throat, more than half severing the neck, telling bow sure the cold- blooded assassin had done his work, It was all that remained of Arthur Ovelman! Wilkins staggered back and out of the cabin, ave crackling torch dropping from his trembling ngers, ‘* It’?d sicken a hog!” he muttered, as his two mates came out from the shadows, satisfied that the murderer or murderers had fled from the scene of this damnable crime. ‘I ain’t no chicken, but ’peared like I’d hev to throw up my boots ef J stopped thar another minnit!” “Who is it? Anybody we know?’ asked Matney, with the low, awed tones which come so natural to all when brought face to face with such a deed of blood. ‘*The old man who tuck part in the rumpus down in town last night—the one as tuck away | ae gal, ye know.” ‘Sure he’s crossed the divide?” ‘Take a squint in thar, an’ you won’t need to ax that!” muttered Wilkins, with a shudder, ‘So dead that ef he’d got more lives than a cat, they wouldn’t ’a’ gone hafe way ’round!” “A drink, mates!” gasped Toplift, raising his head and trying to drag himself toward them. ‘Some whisky, ef ye got it. My head’s a-split- tin’ open, an’ I’m breatbin’ fire—” ‘ene trio interchanged glances, then Wilkins said: *Tt’s got to be did. Thar’s whisky in thar, an’ though I’d ruther step over a heap o’ p’izen rattlers, we got to hev it fer the pore cuss,” ‘**We must see how things look, anyway, to tell them when we get back to camp,” said Mat- ‘*Tt can’t rest here. Blood calls for blood, and while we’re gone, somebody may come back to make ’way with the body.” ‘Scratch up stuff fer a light, then. Well take a look all in aheap., That whisky we’ve got to have—fer him!” Working with silent energy, they soon cole lected stuff for torches, and entered the cabin together. In silence they gazed upon the hor- rible sight, then Wilkins crossed over to the fur- ther corner, tearing aside some dirt and grass, unearthing the flask of liquor which had been the means of their making this important dis- covery. ‘See ef you kin diskiver any sign to tell ag’inst them as did the bloody job—l’ll look after Toplift.” ‘They ain’t no use—Tim must know who it was,” said Ginger, hastily beating a retreat from the ghastly scene. Wilkins seve the suffering man a drink of whisky, and the ardent spirits seemed to put new life into his veins. But to all their ques- tions be shook his head, only saying: “Not now—wait ontel we git down to town. Then [’II tell the little I know, when we see who | it is as takes the lead in the bloody business.” | Wilkins rudely bandaged the wound upon _Toplift’s skull, giving him the flask of liquor to use as he saw fit, and by the time his task was ' done, the wounded man, thanks to the whisky _was able to walk. And leaving the corpse of Arthur Ovelman lying in its gore, they took up the trail to Rocky Bar, eager to tell their tragic tale and set the avengers of blood upon the track of the criminal. Time and again they tried to get Toplift to. tell them all he knew concerning the strange affair, but the man kept his lips obstinately closed, and they began to suspect that there | would be more difficulty in getting at the truth of the matter than they had at first believed. At length the town was reached, and though Toplift faintly objected, the three bunters led him into the saloon run by St. Cleir Guthrie, | where they knew the largest audience would be found at that hour. | **Drap your keerds, gents!” cried Wilkins, in a loud tone, ‘‘Thar’s a beap more portant business on hand jest now—” | ‘*What do you mean, sir?” sternly demanded St. Clair Guthrie, turning in his chair, a cocked revolver gleaming in his white hand, “If you think to raise any disturbance—” **Putt up your weepon, boss. Thar’s bin cs ; = ——— oe bloody murder did, an’ it’s got to be vestigated, keerds or no keerds—” A chorus of cries and questions cut the hunter short, and it was some little time before he could make himself heard amid the confusion, But as soon as he uttered the name of Arthur Ovelman, whose connection with the strange and exciting events which had stirred Rocky © Bar to its very foundations had rendered all én- terested in him, silence fell over the crowd, and his story was rapidly told. ** We left the pore old feller out yander, part beca’se we couldn’t tote him in, part beca’se we thought it best to leave everything jest as we found it, ontel a committee o’ you gents could take a squint at it all. We couldi’t find no sign to tell who did the bloody murder, but here’s Tim Toplift, who kin tell the hull thing, ef [ ain’t wide o’ my guess.” With his bare, bloody-bandaged head and scarlet-streaked face, Tim Topli't stood there ' es | the colonel, bis rather lu the cynosure of all eyes as the three hunters drew a little back, is eyes were downcast, and there was a dogged look upon his face which spoke volumes to those among the crowd who knew him best, ‘Tell what you know, my good fellow,” said St. Clair Guthrie, in a soft, conciliating voice, after a moment’s hesitation as though waiting for some other to take the direction of matters, “You are among friends, now, and can speak freely.” ‘They was murder done. The old gent was killed. That’s all I kin tell you about it,” said oe a slowly. fiery glint came into the eyes of the gam- bler as he heard this unexpected answer. A mutter of angry astonishment ran through the crowd, There was danger brewing for Tim Toplift, and none knew this better than him- self, but the dogged expression only deepened upon his face, ** Don’t be a blame fool, Tim!” muttered Wil- kins, in his ear. ‘‘ Tell all you know, an’ that in a burry, or they’ll begin to think that you hed a finger in the pie yourself—an’ when they once git started in that track, vour neck’ll grow a feet afore they let up on pullin’ the rope—” “* Back, there!” cried St. Clair Guthrie, stern- ly, again drawing his revolver and threatening Wilkins, ‘** Let him tell bis own story without your help. There’s some mystery in this affair and, since it has been crowded upon mae, Vii probe it to the very bottom, let the lightning strike where it will! ‘‘Once more, Mr. Toplift, who killed Arthur Ovelman?’ ‘* How kin I tell what I don’t know?” sullenly prowies the foreman of the Jealous Girl, “I now that he was killed—I know that somebody shot me—an’ that’s all I do know, ontel these gents come along an’ found us,” A oe figure thrust itself through the crowd, and came to a pause midway between St. Clair Gutbrie and Toplift. ‘* Possibly I can throw some light on this mat- ter, [rm peet 3 said Colonel Gordon, with a bland bow and smile, ‘If you know the criminal, name him!” sharply uttered the gambler. ‘‘ This is no time to stand on ceremony.” **T am ignorant of the name—” ene why crowd in here?” a little impa- ently. ! “You are too hasty, my dear sir,” said the colonel, with a bow of injured dignity. ‘* Though I do not know who the criminal may be, yet I can give some important information which may set you on the right track,” ‘*Out with it, then—and be as brief as your —your nature will let you,” added St. Clair Guthrie, checking himself, and substitutin words very different from those which h risen to his tongue’s end. The pompous colonel looked highly indignant, and there were signs of an explosion, when a growing muttering among the impatient crowd warned him not to tax them toofar. Choking down his anger at the cavalier manner in which the gambler treated him, he spoke rapid! : “This afternoon, at about two o’clock, this man, Timothy Toplift, came to my place of business, asking to see Mr. Ovelman on import- ant business. According to instructions left me, I directed him to the rooms occupied by the gen.leman, and a few minutes later be, Toplift, came down-stairs again and told me that Mr. OveJman wanted a good horse saddled for his use at once, I had scarcely given the order when the gentleman himself came »own and told me that he was going to meet Dan Brown on business ccarbected with the Jealous Girl.” ‘You are positive you understood bim?” de- manded St. Clair Guthrie, his blue eyes glitter- ing like those of a serpent whose coveted prey is just before it, helplessly atits mercy, ‘This is a matter of life or death, and a single mistake may result in the murder of an innocent man, instead of punishing a dastardly assassin,” “Tam accusiog case gravely responded icrous pomposity van- ishing as he realized the gravity of the situation. ‘*l am simply telling you the tacts of the case as I know them, I don’t say that Toplift killed the gentleman—for all I know, be is perfectly innocent of any connection with the crime—” Eomichboo 5.