Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 379 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

= -- Se ae Se = s 12 were watching the scene, instead of at once knocking this rattle-tongued fellow down off hand, Colonel Joel Mallison shrunk back, his florid color turning to a sickly gray. And had it been any other than the acknowledged chief of Good Leather, a hoot of derision would al- most certainly have gone up as for a coward. Fortunately for the colonel, perhaps, an inter- ruption came before the crowd could fully real- ize his shrinking from the ordeal. Howling Jonathan abruptly ceased his wild outburst as a hand touched his shoulder from behind, and he wheeled quickly, to find a revol- ver muzzle staring him full in the face! ** You can’t turn my house into a bear-garden, sir. Simmer down, take a walk, or have your baggage checked through for the boneyard. Take your choice of the three, and that in a hurry, too!” It was widow Mercy Watkins who uttered these words, and those who knew her best knew that she ‘‘meant business chuck-up” when she assumed that clear, incisive tone, when her nut- brown eyes filled with that peculiar reddish glow. But. the Howler did not appear to at all real- ize his peril. He seemed unconscious of the wea- en whose muzzle almost touched the tip of his ming-red nose. He had eyes only for the face and figure beyond. Truly, it looked like a case of love at first sight! ‘‘T thought it sorter smacked o’ heaven, an’ now I knows it! But to think that mv nozzle was p’intin’ that way all the time—that’s what gits me! Bad—mighty bad! Itdo so /” he mut- tered, slowly shaking his head like one confront- ed by a most perplexing enigma. “That is decidedly too thin, my fine fellow,” tartly added widow Watkins, stepping back a ace, apparently to guar.| against an attempt to nock her weapon aside. ‘‘ You look fool enough to be crazy, but that excuse won’t save you if you try to run things here according to your own sweet will. I’m mistress of this hotel, and—” ‘* An’ you a lone woman!” ejaculated Jona- than, ineffable. pity filling his face and voice, ‘“Ti’s a scan’alous shame an’ a blot onto the citi- zens 0’ Good Leather—it is so/ Tm a pilgrim an’ a stranger, but I’m too mighty white fer to stan’ that when I kin make it any more fittin’. From right on, honey, count me your head- bouncer. An’ ef—but mebbe we’d best do the courtin’ when there ain’t quite so many eyes an’ years a-lookin’ on, eh?” If the Howler was not thoroughly in earnest, then he played his part to perfection. Fora mo- ment or two, it was a boaprUp with the widow whether to laugh or to senda bit of lead through ‘that rattle-brain. But her keen sense of the ridiculous gained the day, and her laugh rung oe clear and mellow as the notes of a silver 2 . _** Then it’s a whack, honey?” eagerly muttered the Howler, moving a step nearer, his bands outstretched, oy to stop abruptly, as the pistol ain came to a level with his red nose, and the little woman flashed: “Tt is a funeral if you don’t take a walk, stranger! Must I say it once more? I allow no rowing in My House. Go outside, if you must kick up a fuss. And if you don’t pick up your Ticote lively, you're going to get hurt—bad !” This was talk such as Jonathan could under- stand without translation, and with a sheepish bow he shuffled backward until his y was clear of the door. It slammed sharply to in his face, and as a laugh ran through the spectators, the red-haired stranger wheeled about with business written in every feature. He saw Colonel Joel Mallison standing near, one hand still caressing his distressed waist, while Frank Spartan was beside him grasping. free hand, apparently whispering rapidly in is ear. Joe Duncan, sadly used up, was being led away by a few friends, and the little tough- looking lad-of-all-work attached to the hotel was about driving the stage away. Hebrew had eyes for naught save the colonel, however, and striding forward he struck a position before that worthy, his hat cocked over one eye, his arms akimbo, his chin protruded ugnaciously. aes Ef I ain’t a liar, youre the gent as give me a hunch an’ whispered that I come o’ four-legg- ed stock! Now, I don’t know your name—”’ ‘¢ Colonel Mallison—Howling Jonathan,” and Frank Spartan stepped to one side with a low bow an aceful wave of his gloved hands, smiling as blandly as one might who feels confi- dent he is making two very dear friends su- premely happy. ‘ The colonel bowed stiffly, but the Howler leaped into the air with a shrill howl that filled all Good Leather with its outlandish echoes, cracking his heels together, tearing off his bat- tered hat and dashing it violently to the ground, standing upon it as a smile came near stretching his mouth from ear to ear. * Run up ag in him the fust clatter! Who says I ain’t a lucky cuss? Hough-ough-ugh-h- oof !” and once more he split the air with bis unearthly war-cry, his fist see-sawing, his feet going through the motions of climbing very high and very steep stairs, Howling Jonathan. ** Chief 0’ Good Leather, that’s what they call him! Chief o’ the liveliest little camp that sets on the foot-stool, so they swore! An’ that’s the sort o’ mutton I'm hunt.n’ fer, you bet! It ain’t no five-cent rest?ryant whar I take my meals at —not much! I’m a chief my own self, an’ the werry best ain’t half good enough fer me! Pork an’ beans an’ b’iled cabbage, with a bite or two o’ fresh souse is what hits me right whar I live when I’m to home! Kunnel, wake up an’ lis’en to Howling Jonathan Hebrew’s lament! ‘You was chief o’ Good Leather ’afore I come to town, but you cain’t stay chief onless you kin git away with my copperossity, clean! Name your tools, from a cyclone to a ’skeeter’s probe! Step your distance, from a single ha’r’s breadth to a thousan’ mile! It’s all one to your master —whichis me! Bullet, steel or plain meat an’ bones! Anythin’ an’ everythin’, jest so we git down to solid fun while the sign’s right! Idon’t ax much, but what I do ax, I ax mighty hard, honey!” Clearly it was one of the colonel’s unlucky days! He had no stomach for hard knocks, and a far less acute mind than his could easily have told that hard knocks and plenty of them were wrapped up in the hide of this wild beast in human shape. The citizens were looking on with undisguised interest, clearly expecting to see him punish this insolent braggart off-hand. The challenge was so blunt, so comprehensive, SO hide es in its terms, that he knew he must Poa ag ght or back squarely down before all that crowd, His nerves were still unstrung from the sight of Herman Moskau, and the terrors which that sight had given birthto. He could not fight— much less such a fire-eater as this! ‘* Another time—I’m sick—I can’t—” He gasped out these disjointed words, then turned about and hurried through the crowd, almost running away ! The Howler seemed the most surprised of all that astonished assembly. Certainly he was the most disgusted. He stared open-mouthed after the hastily re- treating magnate, until Colonel Mallison dodged around the nearest corner, then his figure seem- ed to shrink and shrivel, his bristling red hair to wilt and grow dim, his boisterous voice fall- ing away to a husky whisper. “Now I will be durned! An’ that’s the sort o’ timber they makes chiefs out of in Good Leather? That's the kind o’ tarrapin I’ve come all this way to onshell? Gimme my hat—I’m sick—I want to go home!” There was anugly muttering running through the crowd, AY’ of whom, though quite as much surprised by the unaccountable action of the man to whom they had long looked up to as little less than perfect, were quick to resent any slur cast upon their town, and it is more than probable that Hebrew would have had his huuger and thirst for sport fully satisfied, only for the interference of Frank Spartan. ‘“ Compose yourself, my friend,” he said as he touched the champion lightly on the shoulder. “Rather than see you suffer so terribly, I will take the place of my friend, the colonel, who has been so suddenly taken sick. As I introduced you, I can hardly do less.” There was a momentary brightening up of the champion’s face, but it as rapidly died away as he shook his head mournfully, saying faintly: ‘Tm all broke up, stranger! I couldn’t fight a sick kitten with it’s han’s tied an’ it’s toenails pulled out! Chief o’—good Lawd!” A groan of utter misery broke from his lips, and Frank Spartan stepped hastily aside, evi- dently fearing an explosion of a disagreeable character. But though Howling Jonathan doubled up, his hands pressed to his middle, his face tightly screwed up, nothing worse follow- ed. “Ef I kin borry a wee drap o’ red licker, mebbe it?d cure me up ag’in,” he groaned, casting a wistful glance around the grinning circle. “I'll give it back when I git done with it—the bottle I mean, durn ye!” he flashed as the crowd burst into a laugh, Frank Spartan pressed a small flask into his eager hand, and then slipped away through the crowd while the red-haired champion was busy sampling its contents. A hearty drink, then Howling Jonathan tossed back his shaggy locks, once more himself. ‘‘ Durned ef I know, stranger, but what I will —whar is he?’ suddenly breaking off as he failed to catch a glim of Spartan. ; ‘*Runnin’ a foot-race with the kunnel!” cried one irreverent scoffer on the skirts of the crowd. ‘““Ef somebody don’t clap a muzzle onto B he pe oe every man-critter out 0’ ood. er “Nother chaince fer fun gone glimmerin’ down the dark an’ misty—oh, Moses!” snorted the Howler, burying both hands in his shaggy top, glaring about him with a half-angry, half- wretched air. ‘‘’Nother chaince—be durned ef they ain’t, though!” and once more his wild howl rung through Good Leather. ‘* Friends an’ feller-citizens—fer ve come to Good Leather to stay ontel she git down on her two knees an’ hails me chief an’ high-cockolo- rum! Feller-citizens, ef they ain’t no fun in town, they’s jest lots an’ gobs of it layin’ ‘round NN SSS SSS... 8g L::2:5° 0°00. ce. ; _ i CC —xy2 XWwhwowOeO*S sss a loose in the hills over back! I know, fer I tuck a taste as we was comin’ through on time! I kin take my davy to that effec’, fer didn’t I lay out a dozen road-agents too cold to skin? Ax him!” and Jonathan pounced on one of the prospectors who had come in with the stage. ‘It’s so, more or less, boys,” was the prompt response, ‘‘We was held up by Cap’n Clean- up, an’ this gent fetched us aidugh in ’way-up style. Not that it mattered much, only fer the fun—an’ sech fun! ef my ha’r ain’t snow-white, it orter be!” ‘‘A pesky fool trick, anyway!” growled the other prospector, with an angry scow! toward the Howler. ‘‘Cap’n Clean-up treated us clean white—didn’t keep a red cent, an’ tole us we might go on, when that crazy critter tuck a bee: in his years an’ run the hosses off. Turned the hull durned outfit end over end a thousan’ times: comin’ down the Slide—he did, duran him!” There seemed a healthy prospect for “fun,” right then and there, but Jonathan was not easily turned from a course once entered upon, and with a lofty dignity he waved one hand for silence, the other stuck into his bosom, his chest swelling, his whole attitude that of an orator. ‘* Feller-citizens! Shell Good Leather be rum over rough-shod by a passel o’ critters so durned ugly they don’t dast show tha’r faces fer fear they’d skeer each other into conniption fits? Shell Good Leather set down on her hunkers an” let this p’izen road-agent take all the cream, leavin’ us nothin’ but skim milk, an’ sour at, that? Shell she? Echo say not a durned onee! ‘‘ Tt was all well enough afore I come to town, It takes gen’us to lead a crowd oraarmy. Ef you never seen gen’us afore, gaze on it now, as done up in the mantle of Howlin’ John, the Terror right from Headwaters!” “A-men!” came ina drawling tone from the outer edge of the crowd, and a general laugh followed. The Howler frowned portentously, but per- sisted: ‘‘4 man is the properest. way to pronuncify it, pard, though your mistake ain’t as big as a haystack. Foller me after them durned road- agents, an’ when we git at ’em, you'll think ’m numerous enough to be counted a dozen times over,,’stead of a man! We kin clean ’em out too easy! I kin sw’ar to killin’ a couple, an’ | kecled over the boss of the gang so purty, he won't hev much fight left in him by the time we git thar, nuther!” ** And what’ll come of Good Leather ef we do clean em out? What’sa camp that cain’t s’port it’s own gang o’ road-agents?” demanded ‘ the ool of the camp,” who had so often put in be- ore. It was a shrewd remark for a ‘‘ fool” to make,, and the general laugh which followed proved this. Howling Jonathan saw that he was wast- ing his breath, and that he had still one more lost chance to lament over. But repeated disap- pointments were teaching him how to bear ad- versity, and after one blank gaze around over the unsympathetic crowd, he added: “°Tain’t fer me to crowd your likin’, gents an’ ef you don’t want to kiver yourselves all over with glory, let it slide. Anyhow, ef I cain’t lick a chief or eat a road-agent gang, I kin git drunk! An’ them what would like to help me turn into a b’iled owl, kin foller the way to find a p’izen-depot!” ‘ihe Howler hastened into the bar of My House, and with long string of followers, ready enough to drink at bis expense, though they did not seem to hanker too strongly after him as a leader on more dangerous business, he brought up against the polished bar, nodding cordially at the white-aproned attendant beyond it, “Sling out the best you’ve got in the SHOP, Jobuny, an’ don’t be bashful "bout joinin’ us your own sweet self. It’s a chief from ’way up the headwaters that shouts!” ‘‘ The slate’s broken, pard,” softly uttered the barkeeper, with a gentle nod toward that pop- ular and apace work of art, hanging in a prominent place above the glassware. Jonathan stared at the emblem of no trust, then a hot flush came into his face, a red glow in his blue eyes. ‘Did J break it,durn ye? Want to skin a stranger the fu’st time he sticks his nose in your shebang? Want to collect a national bank fer that cracked bit o— Landlord!” with a howl that was almost enough to lift the roof of the house, “ Be durned ef you kin skin— Landlord ! I don’t often kick, but— Landlord!” | The very picture of choking indignation, the man from headwaters danced from one fcot to the other, his tightly clinched fists sawing the air. He shot a fragment of a sentence at the astonished and disgusted barkeeper, only to have his rage choke him off into a wild how] for the head of the house. And the last call was so wide his eyes had to shut u ure of widow Watkins as she came sailing into the room, her brown eyes glowing, her red lips essed, ‘‘ business” written in every line of compr’ ; her fair face. And it was only when her plun same sweet scent that tells my nose this is the lung-splitting that-it distended his mouth so. Thus it was that he failed to see the trim fig-. little hand struck him sharply on the lips that. com Ebooks. (E om tel =