Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 390 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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TT man will always be within call, and some signal can be arranged by which he will know if bis help is needed. ‘An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure;’ and se forth.”’ At that moment a knock was heard. Mrs St. Clare went to the door, and there, to her surprise, she found Mother Wolf, the old witch of the mountain. ‘* Qood-afternoon,’”’ the withered crone said. “If Mr. Cibuta John is here, I would like to see him.” Will asked. you come in, Mother?” Clara ‘A stitch in| time saves eight or nine,’ you know, and | ‘* Yes,” the old woman answered; ‘‘I will, with pleasure.” And she entered, and was conducted into the room where Cibuta and the others were. | ‘It is Mother Wolf, John,” Clara ex- claimed, ‘‘ and she wants to sce you.” ‘“ You wish to see me?” Cibuta queried, as he rose from his chair. ‘‘ Well, please sit down, Mother, and let me know what you desire,” ‘ ‘Tt is no favor that I desire; you have been too kind to me already; it is to repay a small portion of the debt that I am here, You are in danger, and I have come to warn you. Will you allow me to show you a pic- ture in the magic bowl?” ‘“* Certainly; as many as you will.” ““Very well. Please call for a basin or bowl of water,” This was done, and a basin of water was soon brought. Then the old witch requested that the | The Giant Cupid. 23 allowed the picture to remain, and then she waved her hand across the basin as before, and it was gone. And then she said: ‘*That is all, and now poor Mother Wolf will go back to her humble cabin. She has done her duty.’ And she started toward the door. ‘Hold on!” Cibuta John exclaimed, and as she turned back he put a piece of money in her hand, and asked: “When shall I expect to have to meet this danger, Mother?” ‘This very night,’’? was the reply. And then the old woman passed out, muttering ' her thanks for the money as she went. For a moment no one spoke, and then Net- tie asked: “ What was it you saw?” to her husband. ‘My pet,” he answered, taking her hand in his, ‘‘ I dare not tell you. If there is any charm in the silver daggers, though, I am protected ’gainst harm; for, see.” And throwing open his coat, he displayed the gleaming daggers crossed upon his breast, ‘“ Promise me that you will ever wear them so,” Nettie requested. And Cibuta answered—‘‘T promise.”’ *‘Nettie has been telling us about the charmed dagyers,” Clara St. Clare here re- marked. ‘‘ Will you allow us to see them?” ‘‘ Certainly.” And Cibuta removed them from his vest and placed them in her hand. The room was now light again, and as Clara took the daggers Mr. St. Clare’ re- quested her to read the inscription on the new one aloud. Holding it up to the light, the lady com- room should be darkened as much as possi- | plied: ble, and as soon as her wish was complied with, she began her strange and weird incan- tations. Around and around the table on which the basin rested she walked, making strange ges- tures with her arms over the basin and utter- ing her wild and weird chant. At length she stcpped for a moment, took her mysterious little vial from her bosom, and allowed one drop of its contents to fall into the basin. Instantly arose the dense vapor, and then as that began to clear away, the water be- came luminous, little by little, until it glow- ed, as we have before described, like a pot of molten gold. Then as soon as the vapor was all dissi- pated, the old witch bade Cibuta step for- ward to look, at the same time motioning the others back Cibuta obeyed, and the moment he did so his face was noticed to turn pale for a single instant, but he immediately recovered his self-command, And what was it he saw? It was enough to chill the heart of any man, Under a tree he saw a great crowd of men, many of them bearing torches, for it was a | night scene; and suspended from a limb of the tree by a rope, and that rope around his neck, was—he, CrBuTA JOHN. Little wonder that his face had paled. ‘‘ Have you seen?” the old woman presert- ly asked ‘ Yes,” Cibuta replied. enough.” The witch passed her hand over the basin, and instantly the picture vanished. ‘And this is the warning you have come to give me?” Cibuta asked, “ That is the danger,” the witch answered. ‘To warn, you, I will cause another picture to appear, and this one all may see.” Once more the same mystic performance was gone through, and once more the water in the basin glowed brightly, And then Mother Wolf motioned for all to come and see. The two ladies and their husbands ad- vanced and looked into the basin, but at first they saw nothing. The picture had not yet formed. Presently it took shape, however, grad- ually, and then in one voice the four ex- claimed: ‘“ The silver daggers !” Such the picture was. | There in the bottom of the basin, so vivid- ly and distinctly outlined that they looked to be the real metal, the silver daggers were pictured, one lying across the other. For half a minute, perhaps, the old witch ‘‘] have seen ** And when this blade shall find its mate, Who Lolds the two can laugh at fate— If he but act a wise man’s part, And wear them crossed above his heart.”’ ‘And the other reads—?” Mr. St. Clare queried. And again Clara read aloud: ‘** For with this gift the charm must end, Nor more decrease—nor more extend; But be to him who wears them 80, A shield to friend—a bane to foe,’ CHAPTER XXIV. SOME FUN AHEAD. ‘* Ohanged again |” Such was the exclamation the four persons uttered, Even Mr. St. Clare, although he did not remember just what the former inscription on the original dagger had been, knew im- mediately that this was not it, ‘What can it mean?” cried Clara St. Clare. And she made haste to return the daggers to Cibuta John, glad to get them out of her hands. As Cibuta took them from her, he read the inscriptions once more. ‘* Yes,” he said, ‘‘it is changed. This is not what was on the blade twenty-four hours ago.” ‘* What a mystery it is!” exclaimed Nettie. ‘‘T wonder how it is done? What can it mean?” ° ‘‘'The verse on one is really a continuation of the verse on the other,’ Mr. St. Clare re- marked. ‘“Yes,” Cibuta agreed, ‘‘so it is. The Jegend on this last-found blade seemed com- plete in itself, but now it would look incom- plete without the other. It is a deep mys- tery, and [ cannot understand it.” ‘*Do you think it will ever be solved®”’ queried Nettie. ‘‘T donot know. Inthe mean time, though, T shall ‘act a wise man’s part,’ and wear them as directed.” And as he spoke, Cibuta again arranged the daggers for his breast, crossed, this time to be worn inside of his vest. He was just about to put them on, when suddenly he held them up to the light and examined them closely. He had discovered something new. ‘““ What now?” asked his sister, as she, too, advanced to the window, Cibuta having done 80 ‘“Why,” he answered, ‘‘I believe here is still another legend, part of it on one dagger and part on the other— Yes, it is!” ‘* Read it! Read it!” It was very fine, but after a moment Cibuta was able to make it all out, and then out loud he read the words, which ran as fol- ows: OO LL —— eee ** And be they in this manner worn, From morn till night— from night till morn, The daggers will their vigils keep, Be he awake—be he asleep.”’ ‘‘A third part!” Mr. St. Clare cried. *‘ It is, indeed.” ‘* What can it all mean?” ‘* How is it done?” **Whence comes the charm?” All of these and a dozen other exclama- tions and queries were uttered in as many seconds, But none found answers, “Well,” said Cibuta, ‘I am now satisfied that there is some very mysterious power at work, and since this charm seems to have fallen to me, I will wear the daggers night and day.” And as he spoke, he attached them to his vest, inside, and made them se- cure, for the time being, with the silken cord which was still on the handle of one. And then they all fell to discussing the mysterious affair at length. In the mean time, down in Bill Twicker’s saloon another matter was being discussed. Bill, the irrepressible, was there, of course; and besides him there was a great crowd, of which Uncle Dan Derrick, Jem Patterson, Jeff Parsons, Tom Billings, lawyer Skynn, and others formed a conspicuous part. And all were debating the stirring events of the previous day and night, or rather they had been, but just now the postmaster was about to unfold a plan for a little more fun, Despite his age, Uncle Dan was as wide- awake for fun as a boy of fifteen. ‘Wal, Uncle Dan,” Bill Twicker ques- tioned, ‘‘ what ¢s this heur leetle skeem o’ yourn?” And the postmaster answered: ‘* Wal, pards, I'll tell ye what it are, I think we people o’ th’ Bar Should on Cibuta make a raid, An’ give him a leetle serenade. At midnight when th’ town is still, Let’s one an’ all come out, An’ range ourselves before th’ house, An’ raise an awful shout. We'll yawp a dozen times or more, An’ bring Cibuta to th’ door; An’ then when we hey got him thar, We'll ax a speech an’ call it squar’,”’ * Bully fer th’ Poic!” cried Bill. ‘‘ That's jest th’ idee! We'll do it, pards, as sure as fate.” ‘* Yes,” was echoed, ‘‘ we will, you bet!” ‘*An’ we'll make it a whoopin’ old sary- nade, too!” ‘© You bet!” ‘Uncle Dan is jest th’ boy ter call on in th’ time o’ need, pards, an’ don’t fergit it.” ‘He be fer a fact!” ‘ll tell ye what, boys,” said Jem Patter- son, ‘‘s’pose we make a hoss-fiddle an’ give him a leetle moozic?” ‘‘ What th’ merry deuce is a hoss-fiddle?” was quickly asked. ‘*PDon’t ye know what a hoss fiddle are?” ** Not a bit.” “Wal, ll teli ye. It’s a hox, a big box— th’ biggest one ye kin git hold on, an’ ef ye can’t git one big ‘nough ye have ter go ter work un’ make one. That's th’ fiddle. Then fer a bow ye take a stick o’ timber,” ‘* An’ how d'ye play it?” ‘*Play it? Why, ye put lots o’ rosin on th’ bow—th’ stick o’ timber, an’ lots on th’ sides 0’ th’ box; then about four stout fellers gits hold of th’ stick, lifts it up on th’ box, an’ then they jest he-haws it across th’ sides from one end to t’other. ‘“Talk about moozie! Why, ten thousand brayin’ jackasses couldn’t hold a candle to it! Th’ night thet Sally Ann an’ me got hitched, a lot o’ fellers kem down wi’ a hoss- fiddle an’ sot it right on th’ front porch, An’ then they played it. ‘Oh! I jest wish ye could ’a’ heerd it. It war th’ wu’st sound | ever heerd in my life, Why, th’ fu’st draw made all th’ winders rat- tle; th’ next one started every Bos 2 from th’ rafters; th’ next one sot’em to dancin’; th’ next one bounced me an’ Sally Ann both out o’ bed; th’ next— But it war jest azful. “Sally Ann an’ me wasn’t many minutes in showin’ ourselves, you bet! ‘‘Oh! of all th’ groans, an’ th’ moans; of all th’ great he-haw jackass brays; of all th’ wild hyena laughs; of all th’ infernal sounds ye ever heerd, a hoss-fiddle kin jest tip th’ scale ag’in’’em all combined.” ** An’ you wouldn’t be so cussed mean as ter toot sich a bazoo ez that under Cibuta John’s winder, would ye?” Jeff Parsons asked, (e(0) JOO NAILS <SiiG