Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 379 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

———s —_—— ‘Driv’? Hain’t I? Why, honey, ef you was to see my old team—my sixteen-in-hand, all heads up an’ tail over the dasher! Ef you could only see when I was in my glory over— Why, man, time was when I used to tighten my tires an’ swell my wheels reg’lar once a day in blood! In the gore o’ road agents which I run over when they tried to hold up my hearse! That was drivin’, now you're talkin’, honey!” “Talk, [reckon!” sniffed Joe, in disgust. ‘‘ Now you drivers down this way, I’ve hearn ‘tell, never do nothin’ more’n hold up your dukes when a agent happens to step out in the trail, Don’t git mad, pard. I ain’t sayin’ only what I’ve hearn say. It ain’t quite that bad, I do reckon?” and Jonathan bent forward to peer in- to the face of the driver, his beaming counten- ance fairly running over with anxiety and sym- pathy for one vilely slandered. Duncan took it for earnest, and answered: ‘“ Drivin’ is drivin’, an a critter’s wuss then a fool ef be tacks on fightin’ fer which he ain’t paid fer to his other duties. Stop? Waal, Ionly wish Cap’n Clean-up would jump out on us this blessed minit! Td like to see you chaw ’em up, hide an’ taller—so I would!” ‘*Tt would be wu’th seein’, too, ef your eyesight is good, honey,” was the placid response. ‘‘’Less they was a dozen or more, it wouldn’t last long. Tain’t no hog, but the fu’st sight 0’ road-agents makes me powerful hungry, an’ I hold a heap o’ fodder, them times.” ‘“No sech luck, goin’ this way, though,” and Joe Duncan actually seemed to regret that fact, “* But ( tell you what Vl do! PU git you a job to drive my turn the next treasure-shipment, You'll hey solid chawin’, don’t you fergit it, now!” ‘* You're my mutton, honey, jest as soon as I clean out Good Leather,” and Jonathan He- brew nodded resolutely. ‘* Business fu’st, an’ fun after. But what makes you so sure this Cap’n Clean-up won't tackle us goin’ in?” ‘* He ain t no fool,” was the curt reply. ‘‘ He lets everybody in, but when they tries to get out 0’ Good Leather, he talks, right sharp, too!” The Howler laughed lightly as he reached down and slapped the top of his capacious boots. ‘““Mebbe he’d change his rule ef he only knowed what I know.” Joe Duncan followed the nimble hand with growing curiosity, which was eet gratified, after a fashion, by the red-headed passenger. ‘Got a di’mond mine in that hoss hide, an’’a national bank in this’ne? Putt them thar to keep my paws free fer fightin’ an’ sech like, ef any road-agents should happen by.” “T see ’em now!” grunted Duncan, speaking figuratively, but his words were caught up by Jonathan with ludicrous alertness. ‘“Whar—whar is they? How many—good Lawd!” Then Joe Duncan did laugh, more than ever convinced that the Howler was far more wind than sand, for if ever mortal man looked unlike a man-eater, the red-haired passenger did just then. Not pale, for his complexion was by far too highly colored for that; but strongly agi- tated and glaring about them as he sbrunk be- hind the burly figure of the driver, seemingly to shield himself from a bullet! _ “Tn your mind, ruther than your boots, stran- ger,” grinned Joe, feeling better pleased than he had since pulling out of Empire City that early morn. ‘‘ Thought mebbe I’d drapped ’em out in the road,” muttered Hebrew, brushing one dirty sleeve across his brow, smiling sicklily. ‘‘ That would be a pity, fer I meant to bu’st every bank in Good Leather wide open before I settled down to sport as is sport. Good Lawd!” with a sud- den flashing up as Duncan laughed anew. ** You didn’t reckon | was skeered? You don’t reckon I tuck you to mean road-agents?” he You said it, stranger,” chuckled Joe, in high glee, though he had felt all along that this was about what the blow-hard would amount to if ever caught in a crisis. ‘* That's all right, then,” and the Howler set- tied back on his seat with a sigh of relief. ‘‘ Ud hate to mount ye, an’ you with your han’s full, but I’d hev to do it ef—say no more honey,” as Dunean ceased laughing and frowned as he turned his bluff face that way. “It was alla mistake, an’ we ain't goin’ to quarrel, we ain’t! Old drivers, both © us. Weterans, so to speak, aw pioneers in the hearse line, An’ it mought skeer the insides ef we was to come to war right over thar heads. Know any of ’em, honey?” ‘One; an’ ef you’re huntin’ up chiefs to con- quer, mebbe you 'mought do wuss then to take a squar’ look at him, come to think. | He’s a bit 0’ pritty good leather, too, J tell ye!” ‘*Gota name, Is’pose? Ef it ain’t too much trouble, honey,” with a bland grin, and depre- cating wave of one grimy paw. “ Ye see, ’ma stranger an’ a pilgrim. I don’t know many critters in these parts, an’ ’'d hate mightily to tackle the wrong pusson.” ‘* Which is nine out o’ ten, ef I hain’t counted ye up wrong!” Jonathan grinned, bowing cordially. ** You ain’t one half the fool ye look, honey— no you ain’t, now! It takes you to read a chief rightly, it does! But you put it too low, I : Howling Jonathan. 3 | reckon; say ninety-nine out of a hunderd. | Good Lawd! the most fun I’ve hed sence I fu’st That comes nigher the notch, but it’s a mighty | got married!” tight squeeze ef even that one won’t be a under- match fer the triplets. They’re holy aoe from the mint when they gits all o’ tha’r backs up in good airnest, they be!” could pick out the words he needed, the Howler | spoke again: | Howler. a ng ‘*T don’t reckon I jest ketched the name, pard. You said?” ** Prank driver, “Tt’s a fightin’ name, anyway,” and Hebrew nodded his gracious approval. ‘Spar an’ tan afterwards. I like it, heap good! tut does the critter fit his name, honey?” “Try him an’ find out, you’d better,” growled Duncan; still ruffled in mind and temper. ‘I want to be thar to see, Jdo! I’m open to bet it wouldn’t take much sparrin’, but thar’d be tan in heaps an’ gobs!” ‘*Not onless he tried to frills,” deprecatingly added Jonathan. ‘‘ I’m a holy terror when I git to goin’, but I ain’t the Spartan,” gruffly muttered the sort that jumps on a man that don’t putt bim- | Ef the feller’s a fri’nd o’ | self for’ard a heap. yours, you needn’t borry trouble on his a’count, 1oney.” Joe Duncan could stand no more. He was so 'mad that he could not speak quickly, but he He placed his whip in the socket and | acted, slipped one foot on the brake, bunching the lines in one hand while with the other he un- buttoned his coat, his black eyes all the time fixed on the grinning face of the red-haired pat- senger, ‘Gittin’ hot, pard?’ innocently queried the ‘* Shell I hold the ribbons fer ye?” ‘*Hot ain’t no name fer it, durn ye!” slowly uttered Duncan, his breath coming in short, hard puffs, his face pie once PR pce than it had vi been seen for many a day, his lips compressing, his eyes glittering as though a fire was kindling behind them and showing through, drawled ‘‘It is sorter warmish, ain’t it?” Jonathan. ‘You'll find it wuss then that. You'll find it red-hot an’ still a-heatin’ afore I git through with ye. You'll find that I cain’t stan’ every- thin’ even ef I do drive a hearse fer—” ‘*The good Lawd! looky yender!” abruptly exclaimed Hebrew, all trace of mirth vanish- ys agen > his face as though by magic. o need to explain his meaning, for, as he glanced mechanically in the direction indicated, straight ahead of them in the road, Joe Duncan saw something that drove all thoughts of fight- ing from his mind. Out from cover leaped several horsemen, each one wearing the conventional disguise .over his face, each one with revolvers drawn and ready for instant use in case of resistance. Andsharp, menacing, peremptory came the two familiar words: ‘** Hands; up!” **Cap’n Clean-up, or I’m a howlin’ liar!” spluttered Joe Duncan, as he threw his weight on the brake and tugged at the ribbons, CHAPTER II. THE HEBREW CHILDREN ‘‘ GIT THAR!” CLEARLY enough these were no amateurs, no new hands at the business, for, even as Captain Clean-up uttered his sharp challenge, two of the masked riders caught the lead horses by the bits, forcing them back almost on their haunches, at the same time covering the occupants of the box seat with ugly-looking revolvers. Another brace broke cover on the right hand side of the road, while still a third pair spurred out into the road, cutting off all possibility of escape by flight, unless in the very face of their weanons. ‘* Hold up, dug-gone ye!” chattered Jonathan, in a husky whisper, as he drove an elbow into the ribs of the driver, whose hands were busy with his fiery wheelers. ‘‘ Want to git us massacreed, don’t ye?” ‘** Hold up she am, boss!” and instead of show- ing either fear or vexation, Joe Duncan fairly laughed aloud in pure delight. ‘* Good Lawd! ef you only knowed how p’izen glad I be to see ye jest now!” ‘*Mind how you show your Joy, old fellow!” warningly grated the masked chief, his revol- ver-muzzle shifting so as to cover the driver. ‘¢ You're too old to play the ass, save at the ex- pense of your health. You know me, I reckon.” So hard and merciless the tone that Duncan dropped tae reins in his haste to elevate his paws. Still he grinned. If his life had depend- ed on his keeping a sober face, he felt that he must have forfeited it. It was rich—the way in which the Howler drew in his horns and sat trembling on the box, ducking his fiery crest, wagging it from side to side as he strove to break the straight line drawn between it and the pistols gripped by the road-agents at the head of the leaders. Little of the fire-eater there! ‘* Nigh hungry enough to begin, ain’t ye?’ he muttered barely above his breath, with a moali- cious side glance into the face of his ger. ‘*Grub a-plenty right afore ye, ain’t they? utt on too many | | but he ventured no response. | This was not what Joe meant, but before he Clean-up, apparently satisfied with the A sickly smile crept over the face of Hebrew, He had eyes only for those ugly muzzles in front. ‘*Hold them level, boys!” cried Captain orom pt obedience displayed by the two outsicle men. ‘* If a grain of powder is burned, inside or out, riddle the hearse and make a clean, sure job of it!’ ‘*' We're the lads as kin do it, boss!” chuckled one of the masks. : ‘‘And you, Joe Duncan,” flashing a keen glance up at the still grinning driver, whose un- usual mirth clearly stirred his’ suspicions that all was not right, ‘‘ want to hurry over your prayers if there’s any trap set for us, You'll go down the first, dead sure!” ‘*Devil a trick, boss, only ’m so tickled I cain’'t—ugh !” A sharp elbow dug into his ribs with a force that ended the sentence with a grunt, and Jona- than huskily muttered in his ear: ‘ll ha’nt ye from now tell never ef ye give me away!” ‘* So much the better for you and your freight, old man,” and the road-agent chief uttered a short, hard laugh as he turned his eyes toward the door of the coach. ‘* Act white, be sensible, and not a hair of your heads shall be harmed; but cut up rusty, and we'll turn that vehicle in- toa hearse in deadly earnest! It’s Cap Clean- up who talks, my gentle pilgrims!” Even more completely taken by surprise were the ‘‘insides ” when the stern challenge of the road-agent rung out on the clear air, and for a few moments there was something akin toa panic among them. Not a very extensive load, consisting of but four passengers, all of whom were bound for Good Leather, either to settle there or from it, take departure in another direction. Two were average specimens of the ora bo genus, or possibly prospectors, since they ha not precisely the air of regular day laborers, to say nothing of their riding where fares came so high, The third passenger was a tall, thin, sancti- monious looking sort of man, past middle age, with long hair and smooth shaven chaps. is suit of rusty broadcloth and limp white tie ser- ved to mark him as one ‘‘ of the elect” in the minds of his fellow travelers. The fourth inmate wes of a different quality as could be seen at a single glance, and eyond. a doubt he it was to whom Joe Duncan had al- luded as Frank Spartan, the sport. Tall, athletic, without being at all heavily built, his graceful figure well set off by the neat business suit of clothes which he wore, Frank Spartan might have been taken for a man of property, a ‘‘drummer,” a tourist for pleasure, or a gambler of the upper strata. His face was as handsome as his form was erfect. Dark, with hair, mustaches and half eard of raven blackness. With eyes large and black, full and bright, now losing all traces of the quiet, almost sleepiness, which had filled them until the hard challenge of Captain Clean- up broke upon his hearing. With long, straight nese, full red lips, firm chin; with broad, high forehead, showing white and pure as the s hat was r Soapgerve pushed back from his brows; with neatly gloved hands which instinctively found a brace of revolvers which had, until now, been unseen if not unsuspected. ‘What is it, gentlemen?” he hurriedly yet calmly uttered, his keen black eyes glancing swiftly from face to face as the coach came to an abrupt halt. ‘ Fight or knuckle? [Pm going with the majority this deal.” The tall passenger whom the rest had men- telly set down as some sort of ‘*‘ gospel sharp,” was too agitated to make an articulate rep ‘fe The others cast hasty, cautious looks out of the windows before uttering a word, unless the mut- tered curses which fell mechanically from their lips at the first alarm may be called such. ‘*Tt’s a clean give-away, pard!” grag one, hastily pulling a small roll of b from his —— and crowding it into one corner of the coach. : ‘* We'll hev to pass, I reckon, Jimmy?” ** That or-be froze out, too quick!” (> Frank Spartan readily interpreted these ejac- ulations, and with a short, careless laugh he re- laced his weapon, knowing that if he fought © would be alone in his resistance to the road- agents, ‘*Tt’s all in a lifetime once get used to it, old gentleman,” he said, ae and nothing when you r Aj lightly, his jetty eyes laughing at the comical — contortions which the clerical personage went through with. ‘‘ You'll come off lighter than the rest of us, no doubt, for Captain Clean-up takes all lambs at *half-rates.” ‘ _ There was time forno more. Captain Clean- up was giving his sharp warning as already re- corded, and now his good horse bore him to the side of the stage, the grim muzzle of a cocked revolver heralding his approach and first show- ing through the open window. — “That’s all right, captain,” uttered a cool voice, as a (asst hand quickly turned aside the muzzle of the weapon and the smiling face of eomicbooks (E (0)