Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 390 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

22 should think it wur jest about time ter be lieve it,” ‘* Yes, you are right.” ** An’ what be ye a-goin’ ter do with these heur p’izen critters?” Bill Twicker asked, meaning the wounded prisoners. ‘‘Be ye a-goin’ ter hang ’em?” ‘* No,” Cibuta replied, ‘‘I guess we will not do that. We will hold them, though, and perhaps we can get some information out of them,” ‘““That’s a good idee,” declared Jeff Par- sons, ‘‘I shouldn’t wonder ef this war th’ same gang o’ hoss-thieves that’s been makin’ raids on this part o’ th’ country fer th’ past year or two,” ‘Very likely it is.” *‘Did ye hear any names mentioned ?” “Yes; the leader was called Captain Pedro.” ‘“Why, that ’ar is th’ same feller they’ve offered a reward for down in Arizony!” ‘«Th’ deuce it are!” cried half the men in chorus. ‘‘Ef we'd a-knowed that we'd a- chased ‘em an’ potted th’ hull caboodle of ‘em, sure!” And the other half echoed: ““Ye kin jest bet yer boots we would!” ** Let us be satisfied with our victory as it is,” said Cibuta John. ‘*‘ We have not lost a man, and that is worth far more to us than the reward,” “Yas, that’s so,” was the response; ‘‘ we guess ye’re right, sheriff.” ‘An’ was it that ’ar Don Juan Burtolo thet stole Miss Nettie—er—I mean Mrs. Cibu— er I mean— Hang it all!” and Tom Billings snapped the exclamation out angrily; ‘I mean—”’ ‘You mean my bride,” said Cibuta, help- ing him out. ‘Yes, of course. Was it thet ’ar p’izen rascal thet stole her from ye at th’ ball?” Nettie Hucklebee had been ‘‘ Miss Nettie ” to all Ante-Bar for so long that the citizens would not find it an easy matter to call her anything else. ‘* Yes,” Cibuta John answered, ‘‘he it was. And I have an idea that he will suffer for the outrage before 1 am through with him, too.” At this they all laughed. Well they knew what a settlement of ac- counts with the Prickly Pa’r meant, Half an hour or more had now gone by, and the horses were getting somewhat re- freshed. Presently Cibuta John said: “This horse is in pretty good condition again, boys, and if you do not care I guess I will ride on ahead and overtake my bride,” ‘*Go ahead, by all means!” was the unani- mous consent. “Very well, I will, You can come on at your leisure.” And giving his horse a slap with his hand, the animal carried him for- ward ata quick gallop. The trail was now so broad and plain that it was a very easy matter to follow it, and our hero pressed ahead at good speed. He crossed the creck which we have before mentioned, and then continued on, heading straight for Ante-Bar—or as straight as the trail would allow. Kor an hour more he rode thus, and then at last he came in sight of the man Smith, just as the latter was ascending a small hill at some distance ahead, Cibuta increased his speed, and soon drew | near. As he did so, however, he suddenly saw | Smith slip from his horse and leave Nettie to ride on tak What could this mean? he asked himself. But he was soon to know. Not much further had he gone when he | suddenly beheld his man Smith again, And this time he was playing, for him, decidedly a new role. Stepping out into the road directly in front of Cibuta, he presented a pair of revolvers, and cried: ‘‘Whoop! Hol’ up thar, pard! I wants ter know who ye be afore I let ye pass by heur.” Cibuta stopped, as any one naturally would. “ Why, Smith,” he said, ‘* don’t you know me?” ‘Wal dast my buttons!” the man ex- claimed. ‘‘ Why, ef it ain’t th’ sheriff his- self!” and quickly he lowered his weapons and put themaway. ‘‘Blame me ef I took The Giant Cupid. —_—_— Set it ter be you, Cibuta John; not at all I. didn’t.” *‘And you were going to plug me, eh?” Cibuta asked, as he now advanced. ‘*Wal, now I should jest reckon!’ the man responded. ‘‘ No galoot was.goin’ ahead o’ me arter that leetle rosebud o’ yourn till I knowed his biz. Ef you hadn’t been th’ pure quiil, you’d ’a’ heard from me.” ‘*T thought I made no mistake in choosing you,” said Cibuta, ‘‘and I guess I didn’t.” ‘Thank ’e fer sayin’ so.” ‘“‘Tlaven't you some signal arranged, though, to let Nettie know whether to stop or ride on?” ““Wal, Lreckon! Efit war any one mean- in’ ter barm her, [ wur to fire three shots, an’ away she would scoot; but ef ye war a friend, then I wur to blow a blow on this heur whistle,” and as the man spoke he placed a metal whistle to his lips and blew a long, shrill blast. A moment later and Nettie came riding back toward them. **I thought it must be you,” she said, as she came up; ‘‘but Mr. Smith would have me ride on ahead, and I had to obey.” ‘‘And that was quite right, too,” Cibuta responded. ‘‘Come, now,” he added, ‘‘ and | will take youupon my horse.”’ near, the lady sprung gladly to his arms. ‘*That are right,” said Smith, as he then mounted; ‘‘an’ as two is company an’ three is none, in some cases, [’ll loaf ’round heur till th’ others comes along.”’ Cibuta asked him to come right along, but the man refused, and so he and his bride started on and left him there. And their horses went at no faster gait than a walk, for the time passed by unnoticed by either. When at last they reached the town, it was just coming daylight; but, early as the hour was, the whole place was astir. Few eycs at Ante Bar had closed in sleep that night. The moment Cibuta John and Nettie were seen, such a shout arose as Ante-Bar had never heard before. With one impulse, the whole town burst forth in one glad shout of oy. 3 Cibuta surrendered his bride to Mrs. St. Clare, and then, as soun as he could escape from the crowd—after giving an account of the rescue, he retired to his room in the Dew drop Inn to snatch a few hours’ sleep. About an hour later the others arrived, and then Ante-Bar heard the story in all its details, and was happy. And thus ended the greatest day that Ante- Bar had ever seen. CHAPTER XXIII. MOTHER WOLF WARNS AGAIN. AND still more remains to be told. That forenoon was a very quiet one at Ante-Bar. For the most part the citizens spent it in sleep, for there were but few who were not in need of rest. The ‘‘ Jubilee” was over. The great day which had been so eagerly looked forward to had come and passed, and now the town must put on its every-day ap- parel once more. Along in the afternoon the citizens began to wake up and stir about, and by three . o'clock Ante-Bar was all alive. It had proved an idle day, but that mat- tered little. When Cibuta John called at the Hucklebee Mansion—for so the white house was called— he found his charming bride in the very best of health and spirits, and none the worse for her adventure. Several of the wedding guests were still there, but they were about making prepara- tions to set out for their respective homes. Finally the last of them departed, and then Cibuta John, Nettie, and Mr. and Mrs. St, Clare sat down for a pleasant chat. ‘‘ Well, John,” said Mr. St. Clare, ‘‘ allow me to welcome you home.” Cibuta John had given up his room at the Dew-drop Inn, which fact we will mention— although it would naturally be understood— and henceforth the Hucklebee Mansion would be his home and he its master. “Thank you,” he responded. ‘‘ For the present, though, ‘‘he added, ‘‘it is no more my home than yours.” ‘* That is only to continue, however, until And riding | been done. , tion,” Clara St. Clare coincided. Gbooks.G¢ ee —————_$__— my own house is completed,” Mr. St. Clare returned. ‘* And I guess we shall not press you for time on it, eh, Nettie?” And with a laugh Cibuta turned to his pretty bride. ““Indeed, no!” she quickly exclaimed. And then to her two true friends she added: ‘‘T shall indeed be sorry to have you go, and the longer that new house is delayed in its completion, the better I shall be pleased. You, Clara, have been like a dear sister to me.”’ And she took Mrs, St. Clare’s hand in hers. ‘* Never mind, Nettie,” Clara rejoined, ‘‘ we can console ourselves with the fact that we shall not be far apart, anyhow.” And she gave Nettie’s hand a fond pressure of love as she spoke. To explain, Mr. St. Clare was having a house built, and it was only a few steps apart from the Hucklebee Mansion. “To change the subject,” Mr. St. Clare now interposed, ‘‘ what is the latest in re- gard to the coming trial at Santa Fe?” ad- dressing Cibuta John. ‘‘ You, as alealde of the town,” he added, ‘‘ are naturally supposed to know more about such matters than we of the common herd.” Cibuta smiled. “Well,” he replied, ‘‘not much has yet “ Lawyer Skynn has made a trip to Santa Fe to serve a copy of our answer on Jingle & Joy, the plaintiff's attorneys, and has secured certified copies of all the original papers held by that rascal of a Bartolo. ‘*T said not much has been done, and yet considerable has been done. We are pre- paring, though, to do a great deal more. ‘We have, at a great expense, engaged a party of railroad surveyors to run the tract out for us, and I expect they will arrive here to-night. “If they do, then to-morrow they will be- gin work, and we shall soon know just how our case stands, ‘We are doing this on the sly, you know. ‘““These surveyors have been at work around here for some time—at least they have been in the Territory, and their pres- ence here will not arouse suspicion.” ‘‘Preparing a surprise for our Mexican friend, eh?” “You are right. And, if we find him at any crooked game, it will be a surprise he will not relish.” ‘*Do you intend to punish the Don for his outrage of last night?” Cibuta’s sister here asked, ‘T certainly do,” was the reply. ‘*I may put it off until after the trial at Santa Fe, though, for I want, to have the satisfaction of beating him there, if we can do it. I think I will wait. ‘« After the trial, though, then let him look out!” ‘‘] have been thinking,” said Mr. St. Clare, ‘“‘that perhaps you should engage some one to guard your wife until after this affair is fully and finally settled. ‘*You can not be near her at all times, and we do not know but that another at- tempt may be made to carry her away.” “Oh!” Nettie quickly exclaimed, I do not think that will be at all necessary. They would not dare try to abduct me again.” "We do not know that,” said Cibuta, ‘‘and I have been thinking of the same thing myself.” ‘* Well,” remarked Clara St. Clare, ‘‘ here is Snowball White, my good old slave ser- vant, with nothing to do but amuse the children, and he might ‘fiJl the bill,’ as we hear it expressed.” ‘‘ He is too old,” Mr. St. Clare objected. ‘“Yes,” Cibuta agreed, ‘‘he is. It re- quires a man who is Ptah and active, and who can fight if called to do so, ‘“‘In fact,” he added, ‘‘I have alread chosen the man, and not only that, but have engaged him.” ‘‘Indeed!” Nettie exclaimed. ‘‘ May I ask who he is?” ‘*Certainly. It is Smith, the man who set out to bring you home to Ante-Bar this morning. I have engaged him ostensibly to attend to the yard here, and to make us a lit- tle garden, and no one will suspect the truth.”’ ‘*T think myself that it is a wise et * The <a (E(@) a