Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 379 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

| Frank Spartan showed at the opening. ‘‘ We’re lambs in here, every one of us, and you can sweep the board without a show-down.” ‘‘You, is it?’ and there was something like startled satisfaction in the tones that came from behind that sable mask. ‘‘ At your service, captain,” was the light re- ply, and Frank bowed with mock ceremony. ‘Sorry we can’t make it any more interesting for you and the boys, but I go with the majori- ty, and they said no good.” ‘Lucky for you too!” growled the road-agent, seemingly ruffled by either the words or that careless smile; they were so unlike what he was accustomed to meet when plying his profession. ‘“'Think so?” and Frank Spartan lazily covered a slight yawn with his daintily gloved hand. ‘‘Tuek it is then, for what you say goes.” There was a brief silence, during which the eyes of the masked outlaw seemed probing the dingy depths of the coach, passing from figure to foes lingeringly; their faces he could not see without thrusting his head clear through the window, and apparently he did not care to tempt fate too far. Despite his seeming carelessness, Frank Spar- tan watched those eyes with growing interest, for this was hardly the fashion in which the re- nowned Captain Clean-up usually made his de- mands for toll. It seemed as though he was looking for some particular person, rather than bent on booty. “Not a goat on the way-bill, captain, I as- sure you,” he uttered, blandly. ** Lambs, every individual of us!” Captain Clean-up started back with a grating oath, his dark eyes glowing as though filled wit fire, his voice harsh and vindictive: “There’s one wolf among you, at any rate, and he’s my meat!” ‘¢ Be durned ef it’s me or pard Sam, anyhow!” quickly cried one of the prospectors. ‘¢ And I’m an humble laborer in the—” “Let up, you /” grated the road-agent, sharp- ly. ‘I’m doing the talking for this outfit just now. Iknow my game’s aboard, and [ll have him in his true colors, if I have to flay the last one of ye! Step out and form in line, quick as your pins will let ye! I mean business now, and out you come, alive or dead meat. Take your choice!” This was a sharp and disagreeable change, but the time for fighting was past. Four agents be- sides their chief had the stage under their pistols, while the two men at the heads of the leaders seemed more than sufficient to prevent the out- sides from chipping in. ‘‘ Business it is, captain,” quietly uttered Frank Spartan, as he opened the door and wie dn forth, ‘‘ You can begin with me, if you e ‘¢-You’re all right,” was the response, in milder tones. ‘‘ Yow’re a bit of a hawk yourself, though a little choicer in your picking. If ’d known you were aboard, though, I wouldn't have stuck my precious pate so near the fire!” ank Spartan bowed slightly at the compli- ment thus conveyed. As atribute to his prowess,» coming from such a seurce, it was not to be de- ised, Har Yow’re all right,” repeated the road-agent, keenly watching for the coming of the others, his revolver covering the door, though held with seeming carelessness. ‘‘ You won’t lose a dollar by us, this round. We're not out after toll—of the usual sort. Will you tumble out?” ‘“‘Tt?s that durned hymn-book whanger!” came an angry voice from within the stage. ‘‘ Down on his hunkers, tanglin’ us all up with his long laigs—scat you go!” here came the sounds of a confused scuffle, followed by the sudden ejectment of the tall, gaunt passenger with much more speed than grace. He fell sprawling in the dust at the feet of Captain Clean-up, closely followed by the two miners, Captain Clean-up lifted one hand, and as though in obedience to a signal, the road-agents, with the exception of those holding the leadin span of horses, came up, leaping from their sad- es and surrounding the passengers. ‘* You can step inside again, Spartan,” coldly uttered the chief, turning to the sport who was watching the proceedings with interest. ‘‘ I trust you will act as you are treated—white, I’d ‘hate to hurt you, but if you interfere in this little game without being invited, you must take the consequences,” ‘‘That of course,” was the cool response, as Frank ste ie into the e, drawing the door aside until he could havea free and unobstructed jp what took place outside. tis curiosity was awakened by the curious manner of the outlaw, and he was eager to see the outcome of it all. There was little time cut to waste. Captain Clean-up dismounted from his horse, and while his men held the passengers under their weapons, he closely questioned and still more closely scan- ned his captives. Each one was searched, but not for the purpose of robbery, since all articles taken were eal ap i returned. And as each man was searched, he was sharply ordered to return to his place in the stage. t the two pr ‘tors, then the vall man, a savage curse quickening the steps of the latter. Howling Jonathan. ‘‘Tll be the death of him if he sent in a false report!” came gratingly from behind that sable mask, ‘But he wouldn’t dare—” ‘‘Thar’s one more, boss, up yender,” ventured one of the outlaws, with a nod toward the box seat. ‘‘They’s heap more ha’r then wool bout him, but it smells more skunky then wolfish, boss!’ chuckled Joe Duncan, as he twisted his body to give a better view of Howling Jonathan. And then— Two pistol-shots sounded almost as one, and with wild cries of agony, the brace of outlaws holding the leaders fell from their saddles and left the team free! The Howler crouched down on the foot-board, clutching the reins with one hand, plying the long lash with the other, a wild, unearthly howl bursting from his lips as the frightened horses plunged madly forward! ‘* Hough-ough-gh-h-oof |” All with the speed of thought. All so sudden that before even keen-witted Captain Clean-up could mspect mischief, the stage was rolling away at the full speed of four good steeds, two of his men were writhing in death-agony beside the trail, that hideous howl was awaking a thousand weird echoes among the hills, blending with a shrill, mocking laugh that came over the top of the stage as a fiery head shot up just long enough to send a bullet hissing on its mis- sion. ‘*Yar’s your wolf, boss!” recklessly yelled Jonathan as he discharged the shot, laughing triumphantly as he saw the road-agent chief stagger and almost fall, saved by being caught in the arms of one of his men. ‘‘ A thousan’ fangs, an’ every one a foot long, tipped with rankest p’izen! That’s me—Howlin’ Jonathan, the Terror from Headwaters!” ‘* Kill him! take him, dead or alive!” grated Captain Clean-up, staggering erect and jerking forth a revolver, sending bullet after bullet up the road, only to see that red head duck under cover as the deftly plied whip sent forth reports almost equalling those of the revolver, ‘*'You Joe Duncan!” yelled one of the outlaws as he leaped into the saddle and started in swift pursuit, ‘‘ Kick that cuss off, or yowll—” ‘* Look out for your nag, Johnny !” cried Frank Spartan, thrusting his bared head out at the window, accompanied by a revolver. ‘‘ He’s going to stumble—sure !” Stumble the horse did, but it was from the effects of a leaden pellet through the brain. General as the surprise was, Joe Duncan was the one most wholly taken back. Through the entire scene he had been chuckling grimly as he watched the seeming terror which filled the face and eyes of the red-headed passenger. It was ‘‘nuts” to him, this sudden appearance of the road-agents whom the valiant Vonatiress was to chew up at a single mouthful, and it was with an almost savage malice that he hea’ d the call for Jonathan after the other passengers had cleared their skirts of suspicion. Not that he even then suspected the truth. He only thought the braggart would receive a still greater scare, after which he would be a more silent if no wiser man. Feebly, uncertainly, he made a move to com- ply with the order so savagely yelled after him, only to shrink back as Jonathan thrust a re- volver against his stomach, grating hardly: “Try it, durn ye! Try it on, an’ go to keep them p’izen imps comp’ny over the divide!” Then came the clear call from Frank Spartan, and as a hasty glance showed the Howler the tumbling road-agent, a wild howl broke from his lips and he sprung up on the seat, sending the silic whistling through the air and awaking the echoes about the ears of the lead horses. ‘Slam in the pills, you pard on the lower deck!” he yelled, withfervor. ‘‘ Physic ’em tell they can’t tell outside from inside! The old man’ll keep the ship on a stiddy keel—git ap, you lazy critters!” Wild, snorting, half-crazed by the uproar, the shots, the unearthly howls, stung by the cutting lash, feeling their heads free, the lines lying along their quivering backs, the four horses leaped forward at top speed, the stage bouncing and leaping from side to side, threatening every instant to turn over or endforend. And wilder howled the mad reinsman, Sharper cracked his whip. Louder rose his peculiar slogan: ‘‘1’m Howlin’ Jonathan, a Terror from Head- waters!” ; Captain Clean-up gave another savage strin of oaths as he saw his man fall before the sho of Frank Spartan, and strove to mount his own steed, only to throw up his hands with a gas ing, gurgling groan. . Only to stagger bac turning half around, falling like a dead man be- fore any one of his men could make a move to catch his body. : And thus it came that pursuit of the stage was not made by the road-agents. They lacked a head, and before they could recover sufficiently from the surprise, they realized how worse than vain would be any chase. By that time the stage had covered the gentile slope, and must be speeding down the steep in- cline from whence the first_glimpse of od Leather could be obtained. Even if they could overtake it, the sound of firearms would bring ——z, all the town to the rescue, perhaps to follow them to their death by lead, steel or rope. Until the slope was passed, and all danger of ursuit seemed at an end, Frank Spartan and nis fellow “‘ insides” bore with the mad, reck- less pace as a necessary evil, but when the divide was fairly crossed and the long, steep descent was begun, with a quickening rather than any diminution of pace, the sport thrust: his head through the window and joltingly uttered the warning: ‘‘Duncan, you idiot! wantto— Ugh!” A heavy jolt dashed his chin against the edge of the window, almost shivering his teeth, effectually muceing sce all further speech, __ ‘* You drive! y team!” muttered Duncan, dazed, bewildered, but making an effort to re- cover the ribbons, only to have his knuckles rapped with the whip-stalk. ‘Gee-up, my daisy birds!” yelled the Howler, wing the silk with a dexterity that would have awakened the envy of a veteran overlander. ‘‘ Show your mettle, my prittys! lt’s a man as is got hold of ye now—a man right from Human- ville! Hough-ough-ugh-h-oof !” Such an unearthly howl broke from his lips! Such a diabolical combination of all that was, hideous and ear-splitting! Little wonder that the frightened horses ran as they had never ran before while the harness was on their backs, even. on the most level of roads! And this road—steep almost as the roof of a house, composed entirely of rock, still showing the powder marks, where a passageway had to be blasted before a vehicle could pass! With a slope to the left that might almost be called & precipice, reaching fully a hundred feet below the road-bed. With arock wall on the right, and a bed so narrow in places that while one wheel almost grazed the rock, the hub of the Ctney joeuen almost be said to overhang the abyss Always the brake and often a rough-drag was used while descending this grade, even by the best and most skillful of drivers. But now, sit- ting erect, one hand grasping the four lines, the other flourishing the whip which sent forth a volley of pistol-like reports, his head bare, his. fiery red hair floating in the breeze raised by their own swift passage, his voice tortured into the most diabolical of yelling howls, the Terror from Headwaters piloted the stage down the dizzy slope, seeming bound to hurl all, including: himself, to destruction! One minute of absolute terror, then Joe Dun- can made a desperate attempt to regain controh of the team before the end should overtake them.. With a gasping curse, he strove to strike the mad jehu, only to have his hand knocked down— to be twisted from his seat and slammed down on the footboard, where he was held helpless, powerless by the full weight of the mad driver as he stood upon his back, And wilder, more unearthly, more hideous. came those howling explosions from the temper- ed throat of the red-headed maniac. Swifter than ever raced the horses, now wholly beyond control, forced to run at full speed to keep from being crushed by the heavy coach that came leaping and bounding after them, at times bal- anced on two wheels, at times with all four whizzing viciously in the air as the creaking, groaning vehicle made another of its wild. plunges! ‘‘'Yar we come, head up an’ tail over the, dasher! Boun’ to git thar on schedule time ef it don’t leave us a wheel, brace or bolt! Howlin” John is got the ribbons, an’ the Hebrew children. says he’s chief! He’s the Terror from Head- waters, come down to show you sleepy critters a bit o’ fun mixed up with business! Git thar, you mourners! Tell’em the Howler’s comin’, om yar’s our visitin’ keerd! Hough-ough-ugh- OO m Frank Spartan, as soon as he could steady his: senses from that savage shock, jerked out a re- volver and sant a shot through the front top of” the coach, where he believed the mad driver was. sitting. Luckily for Joe Duncan, this was just when the Howler twisted him from the box and slammed him on the foot-board, else he would have suffered instead of the rea] offender. The weapon was cocked for a second shot, but it was. not fired. The stage gave a fearful bound, and Frank caught a glimpse of the rocks far below.. Without a driver death was certain. Even an insane pilot was better than none! J Leather, hold your breath!” pelle d the Howler as he tightened his reins and shifted art of his weight from the back of Joe Duncan the brake handle. They were nearing the foot of the grade, but. there was a sharp and ugly turn to make just. before reaching the level. Mad though he seem-- ed to be, Howling Jonathan knew that with their resent momentum the stage would surely be: faved in a direct line over the barrier of rocks, that lined the outer edge of the curve, and with a strength and skill hardly to be expected in one of his caliber, he steadied the plunging animals, with a gradual strain instead of asud- den jerk, and held the stage close to the inner wall. almost grazing it with the swiftly whir)- ing hub. Pale, breathless, his jaws fixed, his muscles rigid, Frank Spartan waited for the- Slack up! Do you "GO JOO AML CSC C