Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 38 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

oe Beadle’s Dime Library. CHAPTER IIL THE GAMESTERS. THE first gray streaks of the coming moon, lining the eastern skies and heralding the approach of the sun-god, peeped in at the window of a small, plainly furnished room, situated in the second story of the Occidental Hotel. Within the room, a table between them, were seated two men, busily engaged at cards. The floor was strewn with crumpled cards; ’tis the losing gamester’s whim to try a fresh pack every now and then in order to woo the fickle dame, Fortune. That the two men had been at their game all night long was evident, for the candles were burning low, and the bed in one corner of the apartment had not been used. The two men were quite a contrast to each other; the first, a good specimen of the Anglo-Saxon race, the second bearing the impress of the old Spanish line in every feature. A single glance at the first—the winner evidently, for he was cool and unruffied, and as clear of eye as if he had not spent the lifelong night at the card-table—and from his peculiar garb he is easily recognized as the Velvet Hand of Cinnabar. And the second, too, so strongly marked in feature, quite fit to sit for the portrait of Hernando Cortez, the conqueror of Mexico, was the man arrayed in the olden garb: no trouble to recognize in him the Californian, Fernando del Colma, the owner of the Cinnabar mine. The players are ciphering up the results of the game, “Five hundred dollars I owe you,” Colma said, with a gloomy brow. “The fiend take the cards! Will my luck never change?” “Tm afraid not, senor,” the winner replied; “not until you change your style of playing.” , The observation irritated the Californian. “Am I not as good a player then as you?” he exclaimed, loftily, a true Spaniard in his arrogant way. ‘No, not as good,” Velvet Hand replied, coolly. “And why not? It is the cards that favor you; when my hand is good, you hold a better!” ‘“‘Oh, no, only I know the value of hands better than you do, and I keep my temper. I play for amusement, you for money.” The Californian rose to his feet indignantly. “You forget yourself, senor!” he exclaimed, mortally offended, reaching for his cloak and to drop it around him in the picturesque Mexican fashion. “Iam a gentleman of birth and fortune! Gold! I was born to it, and to me it is so much dross, while you—” he hesitated. The Velvet Hand, busy now in trimming his nails with a li pearl-handled knife, laughed outright. 32 ‘“‘ Let me finish the sentence for you, senor,” he said. “I ama gambler, a man who lives by card-playing. No social match for you, senor, You are an honest gentleman, the proprietor of the richest mine in the town, and yet you curse your evil fortune when luck goes against you and you lose a few hundred dollars, I, on the contrary, am a social pariah with not a friend on earth, and yet I lose my money witb a amile and laugh at the decrees of fortune,” ) » ‘Forgive me, senor!” Del Colma exclaimed, hastily, his gener- ous nature touched by the frank coolness of the other. ‘I did not mean to wound you. I do lose my temper and play badly; I confess it! I am not a man of ice; it is not the money I care for, but the losing—that is what galls me! You have won from me five thousand dollars since we commenced playing two weeks ago and I can ill spare the money.” ‘‘Why play then?’ was the natural question. “T cannot help it!” cried the Calif desperately. ‘‘ There is a fiend within me that craves the excitement. “It’s lucky for you that you have got the Cinnabar mine to back you,” the other said, carelessly. ‘“‘ By the by, you're doing very well, ain’t you?’ “No, not yet.” . ~ a rich mine,” “Yes; but we have hardl the machin worki order.” edi “1 ia ‘By the way, senor, you and I have got to be pretty intima: considering that you are the owner of one of the vlokeat se ties in the town, and that I am only a poor devil of a card-sharp, and so I’m going to make bold to give youa point or two, for Ive had a good deal of experience in mining; that is, if you are poh, to receive the advice in the same spirit in which it is ven, “‘I shall be honored, senor,” Del Colma replied, with a stately “] took a look at the works this afternoon. I knew the min in the old time, and I had a sort of curiosity to see how the oa appeared.” The wisest head could not have guessed from the cool way in which the man spoke, of the terrible flood of bitter recollections which the Cinnabar mine recalled to his mind. The ome you are using is not exactly the right sort, and you’ve got the toughest set of hands there that I think I ever saw, and your superintendent—Bertrand do you call a The Californian nodded. ‘Have you perfect faith in “As in my brother!” Del Colma replied. with ~ plied, true Spanish fare ate sf has full charge of everything, I pre- “Yes, of everything.” “A man that you can trust is invaluable,” th , served oat, e, e cool sharp Californian, open and generous-hearted by nature, took Velvet Hand’s doubtful words as a compliment to hi peri n- tendent. . FA ‘* Yes, he is invaluable, and yet my sister does not trust him,” he remarked, slowly. i instincts sometimes, ” ere 2 ct “‘ She does not like him. I am astonished, for he is a fin fellow, and I fear he cared more for my haughty sister than - should,” and then the don suddenly checked himself ; he was not wont to speak so openly of the lovely Blanche, dearer to him than the apple of hiseye. ‘The amount I owe you I have not with me—” sl — word is quite sufficient,” Velvet Hand replied, care- The Californian hesitated; it was evident that he disliked to remain a debtor. “6 Stay!” he exclaimed, abruptly, drawing a diamond ring from his little finger and placing it upon the table; “take this as security for the sum.” The other shook his head. ‘‘T would rather not.” “Nay, I insist! life is uncertain; I may die before I pay the debt.” ‘Don’t let that trouble you; I should consider the account settled.” ‘‘ Pray oblige me!” The senor was thoroughly in earnest, and as the easiest way to settle the matter, Velvet Hand placed the ring upon his little finger. ‘The sun is rising,” the Californian remarked, approaching the window, and as he did so he caught sight of his sister riding past, mounted upon her spotted mustang. Hardly had the sound of her horse’s hoofs died away in the distance when a fearful uproar arose on the air, and from the door of a low saloon, opposite the hotel, came forth a motley gang, bearing a Chinaman in their midst. Harder characters than were in the crowd could not be found within the territory of Cinnabar. There was Yuba Bill, one of the recognized bullies of the town; Joe Bowers, the fat and greasy bummer; Doc Slater, the smartest horse-thief north of F’risco; Col. Tom Pipkin, as arrant a knave as ever dwelt within a white jail, and half a dozen other scampa equally as bad. The crowd slung a rope over the limb of a convenient tree, adjusted a noose around the neck of the trembling, crying almond-eyed son of the East, from whose flowing sleeves sundry “ face” cards were dropping, and prepared to swing him up. “By Jove!” cried the card-sharp, throwing up the window- sash; “it’s Hop-Ling-Ki, and he’s the only man in town that can do up my ruffled shirts! They mustn’t hang him, or I’m dished!” Out of the window then, nimble as a monkey, went Velvet Hand, while the Californian rushed down the stairway. - CHAPTER IV. DICK TAKES A HAND IN THE FUN. “SrrmnG up the derned heathen!” yelled Yuba Bill, adjust- ing the noose round the neck of the affrighted Chinaman. “Qh, lemme kick the sawdust outen him first, me lord dook!” cried Bowers, who was nothing if not theatrical. “Go easy, gents!” exclaimed Doc Slater, who headed the crowd gathered round the end of the rope, ready to run the unfortunate heathen up to the tree-branch. ‘‘Just give us the word when you are ready, and we'll fix the critter! We'll teach him to play roots on us free white men, the durned saffron- colored son of Confucious!” Doc was a scholar, if he was the ie horse-thief that had ever escaped the hands of the Vigi- tes. ‘Me alle same Melican man; no hobbe, how can!” sputtered the celestial. ‘‘Shut up yer yaup!” yelled sweet William Yuba, in the same dulcet strains with which he was wont, when on a “‘tare,” and taking possession of the street, to proclaim that he was monarch of all he surveyed, which he generally was until some quiet miner got tired of his ‘‘foolin’,” and sailed into him with a club, thereby producing order in Warsaw. “Oh! men and brothers, has it come to this that we air a-gwine to be ruined by Chinese cheap labor?’ howled Bowers, wildly; ‘‘and he held three aces, which was an immoral possi- bility, ’cos I had two on ’em up my own sleeve myself, an’ the moment the heathen showed his hand, three aces, an’ claimed the pile, I sed, ‘thar’s been cheatin’ ’round this byer board!’” “‘ All ready?’ cried Yuba. “Ye ho! and up he goes!” responded the Doc, and he and his gang began to pull on the rope, when the sudden and unex- pected arrival of Velvet Hand interrupted the proceedings. “ Halloa! what’s the matter?’ he cried. “Mind yer own business!” replied Yuba, savagely, and in supreme contempt; and as for Joe Bowers, who had only errivél in Cinnabar during the preceding night, he stared with open mouth at the velvet sport. “Go long, an’ don’t interrupt the fun!” was Doc Slater’s sug- tion. “This ain’t any of your funeral!” Colonel Tom Pipkin ejacula- ted, loftily. “None of my business, eh?” cried Velvet Hand, taking a couple of strides toward the fellows who had hold of the rope. ‘‘No, sir-ee!” Doe responded, and he let go of the rope to feel for his six-shooter. Rut before he could get his hand on the weapon, the sport had him by the throat, and the unceremonious manner in which he chucked the renowned horse-thief over his head and tumbled him GOmicdooks (E(@) ww