Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 375 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

. _on the rampage, — morrow and see if we can’t find a way to get a little more light on the whole thing.” It was Gentle Joe that was talking again, and this time on the other side! True, he bad only stepped in front of them when they —— em ee ‘ seldom pushed himself forward in a disturb- / ance; and he would stand abuse like a little had followed the fugitive to the cabin of | Bess Stanley, and had had no part in the trial itself; but such a change of base was un- 9 usual with him, and everybody knew that it meant something. There was again a silence, and this time as though some one had let down a wet blanket. When Gentle Joe talked he always meant something. = Then a voice from the outer edge of the crowd sung out: ‘*What’s ther Gentle fot ter do with this? He's only one man, 2n’ he can’t stan’ ag’in’ ther Bar. Whar’s ther rope? | Run her through with a whoop; an’ then we'll git at suthin’ that pays better. No use ter stan’ hyer all night. Gopher him, boys,an’ hyar’s a hand ter take hold on ther drag-rope!” “And here’s a hand to pull the other way —full, and the best in the deck. You, Dave Dukely, dry up or drop! I’ve got you lined!” With the easy celerity for which he was notorious, Gentie Joe produced a brace of revolvers, and one of them, as if by magic, covered the last speaker, while the other seemed to every man there to be waiting specially for him. _ Every man, that is, but Ragged Rufe. The old fellow was watching the proceed. ings with a critical eye, and an occasional nod of approbation. He rubbed his hands together at times when a point seemed to be made, and his oily chuckle indicated an in- tense, if suppressed, delight. He looked on with an air of proprictorship that appeared to indicate that he supposed the exhibition was gotten up expressly for his own amuse- ment. If it had not been for the deep inter- est that Blazer’s Bar was taking in the show, it might have resented a comparative stran- ger’s criticism on their high pressure style. But in peace, Ragged Rufe had not been considered worthy of notice; and in war, as long as he did not push himself too far for- ward, he would be overlooked altogether. ‘Sand! Thet ain't no name fur it. Why, he’s just so chuck-full ov it he’s liarble ter slop over,’’ he muttered to himself. ** All ther same, ef Major Widespin sots ther gang on him they’ll take him in, sure. Id better soothe him down a leetle, fur fear he’ll®git too fur over ther line. Hyar goes!” Least of all did Gentle Joe suspect the ragged old bummer who had ‘‘ brought him his luck”’ the night he struck the camp, and whom, with a gambler’s superstition, he had taken by the hand ever since. He could do what he chose in Blazer's Bar, since Gentle Joe had said that he was his friend; though behind was the danger that, if the town once went wild against Joe, they would be look- ing after his bummer friend very shortly thereafter. Perhaps that was what he wanted to provide for. At any rate, just when Joe held the drop on the gang, and those in the front rank were beginning to look around for a way out of the line of danger, Ragged Rufe made himself solid with the Bar. With a quick, pantherish spring, he was at the back of Gentle Joe, and, without a word of warning, threw his arms around him, pinioning his elbows tightly to his side. At that a snarling cry arose on all sides. Gentle Joe had held his position as chief with the uncertainty of a tiger-tamer among the cages, and now the beasts were loose and CHAPTER III. THE PICNIC. Avr the front came two men who were evidently bad, at the best, and who, after the way they had just been bluffed, were seem- ingly mad to get even. They were Baby Burt and Jess Hurley, The Baby was 4 giant in size and strength, and about as reckless, hard-drinking a rough as Blazer’s Bar could boast. He could shoot, cut and stab with the worst of them; but he took more kin‘lly to the use of his fists. After een owe ern co wee - _ to take advantage of it. i A lamb until the point was reached where an extemporized jury would find due cause aud provocation. Then came a shot so quick that no one saw him draw, or could exactly say how it was done; but it always killed. The two men hunted in couples, and great as was the contrast between them in every way, no faster friends ever were seen. Up to this time they had never appeared to come in contact with Gentle Joe, and if he had not mentioned names it was pretty well understood they would not have bothered him. The Baby was not notorious for crowding a shooter, pure and simple; and Jess had reasons of his own for not setting up his body for perforation. The movement of Ragged Rufe gave the crowd a chance; and Hurley seemed willing He had a pistol oxt and up, with his finger already on the trig- ger, when the Baby dashed aside the weapon. ‘Hold on, Jess! This hyar are my racket. Let me git my han’s on him, an’ [ll take him all apart!” So he grated, in the huskiest of whispers; then dashed forward at Joe Lipscombe, with Hurley following at his elbow. ‘*Play light on him, Baby! Gentle Joe's a bad man to hurt, an’ I want him dad / Promise you'll play light. Ef you don’t they'll end by hangin’ you.” Jess Hurley’s head seemed to have sudden- ly cleared. ‘The Baby himself could see that it would not be the square thing to strike the little gambler when another man was holding his arms, though that position of affairs did not last long. Rageed Rufe had taken a good hold, and he was by no means a weakling, and always considered that he was stronger than he looked, but after he had had his arms around Gentle Joe for about three seconds he was uncertain whether to consider all that a mis- take, or to believe that he had got hold of the rear section of a cyclone, It was done so quickly that there really was no time to consider how it was being done. One minute he was hanging on, and the next he was hanging off. Lipscombe had stooped quickly, flung him sprawling over his head; and then darted at the Baby. Nothing could have more delighted the Bar. Its people were all willing to defer private vengeance if by so doing they could see a meeting between the chiefs. And if there had been time for betting it would have been two to one that the Baby ground the life out of the smaller man, or his pard threw in a bullet about the time it was most needed. Expert as he was known to be with the revolver no one supposed that Gen- tle Joe could stand up before the heavy- weight pugilist, who was known 4s the boss slugger of the district that owned Blazer's Bar for a'center, Ragged Rufe rolled out of sight and out of mind while a ring formed as if by magic, in the center of which stood the two, with hands well up, eying each other after the sharp, cold way of two prac- ticed athletes. To the surprise of the greater part of the spectators Baby Burt was silent and watch- ful, from the very first moment that Lips- combe threw himself into position. Those that were expecting to see him rush forward and overwhelm the smaller man with a pon- derous stroke or two were doomed to disap- pointment, and in reality underrated Baby Burt more than they dreamed of. The Baby was no man’s fool, and his thoughts ran something like this: ‘‘The Gentle ain’t nothin’ pertickler laid in fur me; an’ he ain’t kickin’ up this ‘cause he’s got a big’ mad on. Ef so, he knows what he’s a-bettin’ on, fur he don’t fool his- self bad on what’s the size ov his hand. I kin scoop ther pot ef ther deal’s fair; but all ther same, it may be jest ez well ter see what he’s got back. Jl'll score more p’ints ef I let him lead. ‘“‘An’ Jess tole me ter play light. He wants ter see what ther Gentle hez an’ I'll give him a chance ter call. Ef Joe thinks he kin show afore Jess picks trigger he’s he had broken Kiddy Kain’s neck with a | fooled, bad.” single blow. the boys would rather have pre- So the big man stood on guard, his hands ferred him to use the irons inthe settlement slowly weaving to and fro, while he waited | for the other to develop his game. of his little difficulties. Jess Hurley was all the other way. He Royal George, _ the Three in One. 3 mm ae ee ee ee eee SS Lee eyes of the bystanders. When Joe found out the big man would not lead he dashed straight in. He was quick as lightning, though his blows lacked steam, straight as they were delivered. One, two, three! Frem_ the shoulder out they came; and though Burt guarded skillfully he was a shade too slow, and every one of them managed to connect. At that the Baby seemed to grow cooler than ever; the gleam left his eyes, and was replaced by a wooden expression that, in daylight, wouid. have been a perfect mask, Even then, with a deceptive and by no means steady light, it served well the purpose of disguising his intentions. A yell of surprise went up as the crowd saw him sniffling in a mechanical sort of way, to keep out of sight) the ruby that would make itself visible at the end of his bugle. Dancing out of range, Joe looked keenly at his man. Then, crouching low, he made a spring with hands outstretched, ready to take a hold. The spectators thought Burt would meet him half-way at that sort of game, but they were mistaken. For the first time Baby Burt drew back his arm, and struck for all he was worth. It was done too bag for any guard or parry to be offered, and the blow caught Lipscombe high up on the forehead as he skillfully ducked. Heels over head he rolled for half a dozen yards, and then lay stretched out, with only a little nervous quivering in his limbs to show that he was still alive. ‘* Knocked out the first round,” said an’ oily voice, that was beginning to be prett well known at the Bar. ‘‘I sed ter Josep that ther mouthful were bigger ner he could bring his teeth clean through, but it wa’n’t no use ter talk. He thort he knowed his own biz best, an’ mebbe ef he c’u'd really hey got hold, he'd ‘a’ made a spread-eagle outen ther Baby, big ez he air. But he didn’t, an’ that ends it. Consider ther sponge throwed up, an’ go on with yer sheep-stealin’.” Ragged Rufe’s appeal was drowned out in a roar from the crowd. Jess Hurley was leading his pard away, but Dave Dukely, who had letely been singled out for special notice, saw the chance to get even. ‘*Now yer hev him,” he shouted, ‘‘send him up erlong with ther other! Hyer goes! I’ knot ther rope, an’ all han’s jine ther pull thet takes him up ter kingdom come!” He was quick with the suggestion; and, as he rushed forward, it looked as though the crowd might come with him. But there was a slight impediment in the way in the shape of Ragged Rufe, who, kneeling on Lipscombe’s prostrate form, looked uneoncernedly up. ‘‘Easy, me noble jake! Obsarve these shcotin’ irons! Fair play are what I want, an’ fair play’s what this court are goin’ ter insist on. Consider me €z a depity, swore in accordin’ ter law an’ Gospel, an’ jest don’t try ter resky a pris’ner thet’s under ther eyes ov ther bird ov justize. Han’s up, Dave, an’ no snap shots, er run yer reesks.”’ Gentle Joe’s revolvers had not pointed more unerringly, and Dave Dukely halted. He said nothing, expecting some one else to speak for him, and give him a chance to get in his work. Instead of that, Mart Hlammers’s voice was the one that was heard; and what he said did not help him a bit, since the twin revol- vers never wavered, though all the rest of the crowd was looking anether way. ‘*Say, you galoots, better let up on this racket and look round fur ther prisoner. While you've bin chinnin’ he’s took leg bail, an’ jumped ther ranch.” And very true was it. In the excitement over the pee the prime cause of the pic-nic had been spirited away, Which way he had gone, and when, were only subjects for guess, though some one suggesting that the direction toward Jones’s Fork would be a good cover to draw, the best part of the crowd went ramping off down the straggling street, with Jess Hurley and the Baby in the lead. Then Gentle Joe's voice was raised, though little louder than a whisper. | ‘*Thankee, old man; but if you wouldn't press me quite so hard it would leave me con- It was simply reckless nonsense in the ‘ siderable more breath. And I don’t reckon (aCe) v.00 MIE s)