Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 379 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

P reins ‘‘held his breath.” ‘‘Of all the botch- work natur’ ever turned out, a two-legged gas- bag-is the most triflin’est an’ no ‘count. I never yit come ‘cross one that I didn’t feel like ’ takin’ him by the two eends an’ rammin’ him together ontel somethin’ bu’sted.” oe passed back the bottle in grim silence, though he looked as though he was strong] ‘ tempted to say something. While free arin is cheap, it is not always without cost. A modest man and a truth-lover himself, Joe Duncan had long since set down this red-headed passenger of his as the worst case of bare-faced mendacity and shameless gasconade his long career had brought him in contact with, That was bad enough at the best, but to have this audacious liar and blow-hard switch off into a sermon against the very sins in which he stood pre-eminent, was even more disgusting, “The truth is mightier than a old cheese, pard, an’ long’s 1 kin keep my grip onto that, I ain’t afeard to tell the hull world what I think an’ what I know fer to be a fact. An’ them what don’t like my style ‘kin muster up‘all thar fri’nds an’ “lations an’ come an’ see the old man! Aw ef they ain’t much more’n a full rijiment, I reckon he’ll make it mighty interestin’ fer ’em, too! Braggin’ I hate wuss then the Old Boy hates holy water, but I never was whipped, an’ never ’spect to be, nuther! I’m a chief with a high-up C! The king-pin of Fighting Alley! A fle terror from headwaters! An’ jes’ a little bit the best man that was ever done up in a hu- man hide!” ‘‘ Bf they was only a lamp-post hitched to one end an’ a glass shade to the other!” muttered Dunean, with a sniff of supreme diszust. This was breath spent invain. If he hoped to abash the flame-topped braggart, Duncan was counting without his host. The sarcastic shaft glanced harmlessly from his armor of proof, and the mighty chief placidly added: ‘‘T wouldn’t tell ye this ef it wasn’t writ on the phizamahog o’ me so plain a blind man with- out eyes kin read it upside down. Time was when I used to travel incog., as *twere. When T tried to kiver my light over with a peck-meas- ure to keep from blindin’ them_as chainced to look up as I went by. When I done my level best to pass off as a common man. But, that’s played out, long ago—wuss luck!” ‘“ Must be monstrous hard—on them as travels with ye!” ‘Count o’ sore eyes—I know it,” was the frank admission. ‘‘ Butthink o’ me! Think o’ the misery 0’ lookin’ fer fun an’ never findin’ it! Of listenin’ to fool critters talkin’ bout big chiers who live ’way off yender, an’ settin’ out to find em, only to see the durned varmints fade an’ fade away bit by bit as ye git closter to thar stampin’-grounds, ontel they ain’t even a shad- der left to fight when ye git clean thar! That's whar the hard comes in, honey!” ‘© Some men és mighty lucky,” muttered Dun- can. ‘That’s what!” emphatically nodded the hero, ‘‘ More times than I’ve got nails on the two ends 0’ me, I’ve bin fooled jes’ that way. I cain’t find the chiefs I set out to look up. Whar they o is what gits me, but I do know they pull the ole in after ’em so slick they ain’t even a smell left to guide a critter. Fun is my livin’, an’ the lack of it’s makin’ me poor—so poor that ef it keeps on in the same rut, durned ef I won’t hev to kiver my pore ribs over with nettin’ to keep the bugs out!” ‘‘¥unny I never hear tell o’ dryl u‘tered Joes . en did your ears go back on ye, honey?” “They’re thar; neither cut off nur plugged up. Though I hev see’d the time when I would- n't cry my eyes out ef they was missin’ fera ** Hough h-ough-ugh-gh-h-oof !” ' The red-headed gey elevated his glowing nose toward the cloudless sky and gave vent to a prolonged, diabolical howl such as is impos- sible to even faintly portray through the cold medium of type. It was a cross between the blood.curdling war-whoop of the red-skin and the bay of a bloodhound on a hot trail, spiced with the shrill, unearthly notes of a hungry coyote, and ending with the savage snort-sniff of a startled grizzly bear. The spirited horses plunged and pranced with tossing heads and laid-back ears, requiring all the strength and skill of the veteran driver to keep.them under control. From the interior of the coach came cries of angry surprise, ming- ling with words only partially distinguishable above the clatter of hoofs and rattle of wheels. “Drop it, durn ye!” grated Duncan, flashing a single hasty glance into the face of his pas- senger. ‘Ef I hedn’t my han’s full, ’'d cut it rine: it a— Stiddy, my prittys! learn to ped- e, boys ot Good Lawd!”eagerly ejaculated the Howler. “Ef that’s all that henders ye, gi’ me the rib- bons an’ pitchin! I hain’t had a bat on the ear fer so long I cain’t remember how it feels!” ai You drive! My team!” snorted Duncan, otly. ‘*Long’s they ain’t nobody lookin’, I don’t keer. I ain’t the least mite proud, honey, an’ IT hev see’d wuss-lookin’ teams—in the bone- yard,” placidly grinned the wandering knight. ye afore this,” eee ee TO eee —SE Howling Jonathan. He overshot his mark if he counted on driving Joe Duncan to assaulting him then and there. Joe knew that he drove the neatest team on that stage line, and this fact was so generally con- ceded that he could afford to laugh at the in- sinuation contained in those words. ‘You kin use your paws better in keepin’ that red gap shet, pard. You want to do it, too, on- less you feel like hoofin’ it the rest o’ the way to Good Leather. This hearse ain’t a manadgery wagon!” ‘“ Ef I show my wisitin’ keerd ag’in will you chuck me off?’ eagerly cried the searcher for “fun,” inflating his capacious chest and pucker- ing up his bearded lips anew, only to be hastily checked by Joe, *¢ Don’t—or they'll be a smash-up! ain’t human, they cain’t stan’ everythin’ “An’a chief cain’t fight a hoss, wuss luck! Pity them as drives ’em ain’t got the same ‘mount o’ proper pride an’ sperit! But what's the use? Ef I cain’t wake up a shindy, I kin shet my eyes an’ dream over the past an’ make b’lieve [’'m fightin’ em all over ag’in, An’ still I’m Howlin’ Jonathan, the Terror from Head- waters!” ‘“The howlin’ part ain’t no lie anyway,” growled Duncan, sourly,. A thousand times since pulling out of Empire City, Joe Duncan had cursed the perverse fates that gave him such a companion for the long drive. At first he cared little, taking Howling Jonathan for an ordinary specimen of the hard- looking cases which every mining section turns out. Under this impression he shared plug and flask with his passenger, feeling that it was all in the line of duty, all ina day’s work; but he had not counted on such a steady stream of blowing and gasconade. And being a modest man, after his own standard, Joe Duncan felt that fate had played him a dirty trick in- deed. A good sample of the average “ tough” was this ** Howler ” tothe outward eye. But a little over the mean hight, he was broad-shouldered and muscular, with long arms and ey paws that looked as though they might easily play the part of blacksmi‘h’s vise at a pinch, His hair was thick and matted, of a brick-red hue. His full beard was close cropped, that on his cheeks and chin being plainly several months’ erowth shorter than his bristling mustache. His nose was short and curved like the beak of an eagle, glowing redly in the sun and shining as though freshly varnished. His eyes were small, keen and penetrating, of a clear steel- gray color. is garb was rough and ready, consisting of heavy brown duck trowsers, coarse boots and blue flannel shirt. On his fiery locks rested a dingy felt hat which had once been white or gray. A broad belt of webbing encircled his waist, filled with fixed ammunition for the brace of heavy revolvers which rested on each hip. In addition he carried a long bone-handled knife in a leathern sheath. , ‘Then you never hearn o’ me afore? Never hear tell o’ Howlin’ Jonathan, the Terror from Headwaters?” “This is .oneo’ my unlucky days, ye see, stranger,” significantly grinned the driver, un- able to hold back the fling. Howling Jonathan turned a keen glance upon him, but as a sudden start on the part of his still frightened leaders called for his entire attention, Joe Duncan was not required to encounter that gaze, nor tomore fully explain his epigrammatic speech. ‘‘That’s all right, Howling Jonathan. * Ef hosses hh ardner,” slowly uttered Well call it a compliment, an’ let it go at that; leastways ontel your han’s ain’t quite so full as they be now. I reckon Pll see you in Good Leather?” . ‘Rf some o’ the boys don’t rock ye to sleep fer lettin’ off steam like you did a bit ago, mebbe you will. I lay over to-morrow thar.’ The Howler gave a mighty sigh that seemed to fairly lift his person from the box. “The boys won’t be thar. They won’t show up long’s the Terror hangs out his sign in Good Leather. I know it, fer keeps! I kin feel it in my bones, honey. They’re skitterin’ off fer tha’r holes. this very minnit, or my feelin’s is no prophet!” , ‘“T ain’t bettin’ that way. They’s some mighty good leather in the gang, now I tell ye, stranger —mighty good leather! Ef you stum’le up aginst Iceberg Dave or Ugly Dan, you won't need a long-range spyglass fer to see the stuff they’re made out of; onless you’re nimble on_ the heels as you be with the clapper,” nodded Dun- can, with a smile, ‘ “Tt takes jest two icebergs to git me down to fever heat, honey, an’ then I’m ugly enough fer a hull rijiment o’ Dan’s,” placidly retorted Howling Jonathan. ‘‘ But it ain’t my luck. Pve got dust that whispers I won’t find nuther the one nur the other in Good Leather when I git thar. Ef they don’t run away they'll hev a fit or tum’le down an’ break tha’r necks, jest long o’ my crooked luck!” ‘Waal, it’s a mighty slow way to git rich, this drivin’ hearse, but I reckon I kin scrape to- gether a few ducats that says you cain’t bluff off either Dave or Dan—what say?” i, oC ee ee MUN e————— aire — eeeeEeSSEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSs The Howler elevated hisruby proboscis with a sniff of scorn. ‘That ain’t my sort, honey. It. don’t take money to lend me narve fer fun or fightin’. It’s clean love, that money cain’t pay fer nur buy.” ** Talk is cheap, shore enough!” grunted Dun- can, again devoting all his attenticn to his team, more than ever convinced that Howling Jonathan was all wind, For some little space Jonathan was content to maintain silence, and Joe Duncan was chuckling in his sleeve at the happy thought by use’ of which he had shut off a nuisance. But he Sha ie without his host, as he quickly discov- ered. ‘‘Them two’s the king-pins as runs Good Leather, I reckon, pard?” uttered Jonathan blandly, apparently none the worse for his de- cided set-back. ‘‘ ‘The high-muck-a-mucks, so to speak?” 7 ‘¢ They keep tha’r end up level, anyhow.” ‘*?Pears like ve hearn tell of a still bigger toad in the puddle, though,” thoughtfully added the Howler, rubbing his chin, his little eyes half-closed. ‘‘ With a kunnel to his name, wasn’t it?” ‘¢ Mallison, you mean, I reckon?” ‘That’s the name—Kunnel Joel Mallison. Big chief; speckilator; high-toned cuss; rolls in dust an’ feeds his dogs ducats. That’s him!” ‘““Could ef he wanted to, anyhow,” grunted the driver. ‘‘ Rich enough. Ef you want busi- ness, he’s the one to go to. Ef it’s fun, pure an’ unadulterated, you want to hunt up Iceberg Dave or Ugly Dan. Wish you would. Dve hearn you talk, an’ I’d mightily like to see you act !” ‘Ef you don’t, it won’t be fer my fault,” was the ewe retort. ‘‘I hearn tell of the sports of Gooc Leather, an’ ’'m come all this way jest fer to feel 0’ tha’r grain, Ef it ain’t rotten or spoil- ed in the tannin’, the camp °ll jest git up on its hind-legs an’ yowl with pure delight to see the fun! I’m monstrous glad thar’s three of the chiefs, fer of all things I do ’spise to hev the odds all onto my own side. Any time I’d ruther hev ’em t’other eend to; they’s some credit in pullin’ off a fight when everybody’s bettin’ the other way.” ‘“T reckon you'd better begin with one ata time, stranger. They'll last longer, ye know, Course I don’t mean to hint that you ain’t ekil to all three, but—” ‘* Never mind ’pologizin’, pard,” laughed Jona- than, lightly. ‘‘ It ain’t at the fu’st glimp’ that everybody kin make out the three o’ us,” He chuckled anew as Duncan glanced at him with a puzzled light in his big black eyes. ‘That's all right, meets on don’t know me nigh as well as you will afore you take your next trip. It’s Howlin’ Jonathan Hebrew that does the talkin’ fer this crowd, but when it comes down to stiddy work on a pure business basis, then the Hebrew children gits in tha’r light an’ skientific tetches. Shadrach, Meshach and To-bed-we-go!_ ‘Try and jump on a uni- corn!’ Which is Latin fer three tied up in one bundle, or both ends an’ the middle to buck ag’inst all at oncet!” ‘‘Heap good joke, I reckon, ef a body could only tell whar the right place to laugh comes in,” retorted Duncan, giving the enigma up, eet ** Never went through gradiwation, I reckon,” and Jonathan beamed benevolently on the be- nighted mortal. ‘‘ Never mind. You'll onder- stan’ what it means when you see us all mixed up in a free circus. I reckon you'll think they’s a thousan’, ’stead o’ only the three twins!” ‘“ An’ them all legs, I bet a gold-mine!” “Which is sarcasm,” laughed the es ip lightly. ‘But I fergive ye, honey. Fools an’ babies an’ ign’ant people is another crowd that goes all three in a bunch.” Again there was silence on the box. Joe Dun- can, slow witted, thick tongued, had no retort ready, and was suddenly brooding over that un- complimentary speech, the precise purport of which he was as yet unable to catch, while Jona- than appeared to be admiring the really roman- tie scenery about them. Not for long, however. His tongue was too active to need or take a pro- tracted rest, and he broke forth anew: ‘‘ A pritty route fer road-agents to git in thar work on! Reckon you ain't troubled with ’em as bad as they be up-country?” ‘Ef that’s why you left up-country, then you've struck the wrong claim, stranger,” snap- xed Duncan, but with a sharp glitter In his lack eyes. “TI never thought the day’d come when I wanted to see them critters bad, but it hes! Vd give a good bit ef we was headed the other way, with a good chunk o’ oro aboard— durned ef I wouldn’t, now!” Ta, ‘Heard o’ breakers ahead, eh?” grinned the Howler, “Ef you ain’t dead sure ©’ your narves, better rt me take the ribbcns a bit, honey.” ss “ You drive? My team? is a sort o’ come-down, that’s so, honey, but I’m not proud, as I b’lieve I told ye afcre, Mebbe I could stan’ it fer a bit ef I was to shet my eyes up tight an’ bring my ’magination into play hard!” a You hev driv’, then?” snorted Duncan, in- com Eboo