Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 390 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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24 ‘* Wal, it would be kinder rough on him, that’s a fact,” Jem admitted. **In course it would,’”’ agreed Tom Bil- lings. ‘“‘ And,” said lawyer Skynn, ‘‘if itis really as bad as you say it is, Mr. Patterson, it would be bad for the nerves of his bride.” ‘‘That’s so, that’s so,” cried Jem; ‘it won't do at all.” ‘‘No, pards.” said the postmaster, ‘‘ it will not do at all, fer we must make a decent call; ter go thar wi’ a thing like that, would kill our serenade right flat.” ‘*Poie is right,” cried Bill Twicker, ‘an in fact he always are. We'll have th’ sary- nade, Jem, but no hoss-fiddle, ef ye please.” ‘* Yes, | guess it’s best ter leave that off th’ programme.” “So dol. Cibuta moughtn’t take kindly to it, ye know, an’ then we'd feel mean ez dirt.” *“Oh, no! No hoss-fiddle!” And so the expressions of the opinion of the crowd were given. ‘‘Wal, what kin we do, then?” Jem asked. ‘We'd orter have a brass band, er somethin’ like that.” ‘‘Consarn it!’ cried Bill, ‘‘ef we’d only thort o’ this yer skeem afore th’ weddin- moozic fellers left town, we could ’a’ en- gaged ’em.” ‘Sure ‘nough!” Jem exclaimed. ‘‘Too late now, though,” ‘‘ Yes, they’re gone, an’ that’s th’ end 0’ that.” ‘* What kin we do, then?” ‘‘Wal, the postmaster heur has gi’n us a fair idee, He sez go thar in decent order, raise a big whoop an’ hurrah, an’ then when Cibuta comes out jest at him fer a leetle speech ‘Then we'll give him a leetle speech in reply, an’ that’s ’bout all that’s wanted.” ‘* Yes, pards,” said Uncle Dan, ‘‘ 1 think thet that will do; an’ when wi’ that much we git through, I’m sure we'll all be satisfied; likewise Cibuta an’ his bride.” ‘Yes, yes! Poie is right!’ cried Bill Twicker. “ That’s jest the idee, an’ that’s what we'll do. That ’ar hoss-fiddle 0’ yourn, Jem, kin keep till some other time.” And so it was arranged. ‘Bout what hour d’ye think is best, Uncle Dan?” inquired Jem Patterson. “Wal,” the postmaster responded, ‘‘I should think about midnight, ez 1 said be- fore, would be ’bout right.” ‘Might make it a leetle later, though, an’ do no harm,” said Jeff Parsons, ‘“Yes,” Bill Twicker agreed, ‘‘a leetle later wouldn’t do any harm. §S’pose we say *bout half-past twelve?” ‘*That ll do first-rate.” é( “All right, then; that settles it. Half- past twelve is th’ hour. An’ now, feller- citizens one an’ all, jest see thet this heur thing don’t leak out.. Don’t say a word about it to any one. An’ all you fellers thet’s got wives, don't fer th’ love o’ goodness tell them. Ye might ez well post a notice right up on th’ town pump—et we had one—fer a woman can’t keep a secret nohow _ It’s their natur’, an’ they can’t help it.” ** Kerrect fer ducats!” echoed Jem Patter- son. ‘*Thar’s Sally Ann, fer instance. She’s jest ez good a body ez ever lived, but she will swop gossip wi’ th’ neighbors,” *« They're born so.” ‘Yes, fer a fact.” *‘ Well, that is the hour, then?” queried lawyer Skynn. ‘* Yes, that’s to be th’ time,” replied Bill. ‘* An’, lawyer, I guess we'll have ter git you to make th’ address fer us. You’ve got about as limber a tongue as any man in town. Am I right, feller-citizens?’ *“Yes—yes! Skynn’s th’ man ter fill that bill, every time.” Such was the unanimous cry, and so it was all arranged. The plans were talked over at great length, but sufficient has been said concerning them here, Quite a little excitement was expected, but the excitement looked for was as nothing compared with the excitement that was to come. ial was a surprise in store for Ante- Bar. It was stage-day at Ante-Bar, and as the hour of arrival drew on, the citizens began to congregate at the post-office. It was the usual stage-day crowd. The Giant Cupid. “Wal. Tl be etarnally gol bu’sted!” roared Bill Twicker, ‘‘ef heur ain't all Bung- eye Camp come ter sarynade Cibuta John} ards, we're left, an’ left ad.” ‘* It looks like it, fer a fact!’ Jem Patterson agreed at once. ‘‘An’ what be we goin’ ter do ebout it?” queried Jeff Parsons. ** Shell we wade right into’em an’ clean out th’ hull kit an’ caboodle of ’em?” ‘That's jest what we'd orter do,” declared Bill, earnestly. ‘Ef we do, thovgh, thar] be blood shed, an’ it'll be shed on both sides, too; besides, th’ Wimmin an’ th’ kids mought git a stray shot er two. ‘No, eaten wed better let ’em go it. ez long ez they don’t go ter pushin’ things, but ef they do that— Wal!’ And his deter- mined gesture finished the sentence. ‘*Mebbe they've come wi’ good intentions, anyhow,” said Jem; ‘‘so I guess we'd bet- | Every one acted as though he expected | something important to come for him. It was a curious fact, but on every mail- | day the entire population of the town visited the post-office within an hour after the mail arrived, or asked some one else to inquire— those wno could not get there in person, whether they expected anything or no‘. Every citizen’s name was -poken there as regularly as the mail came. Some who had lived at Ante-Bar four or five years or longer, and in all that time had never received any mail of any kind, were as prompt at the window as those who re- ceived letters frequently, and perhaps more so | When the stage came on this particular | day, a party of men got down and out who | each carried some sort of bundle or box, some | _larger and some smaller: | They inquired at once for Mr. John Jones, | | alcalde of the town. ' ter let ’em be till we see how it is goin’ ter Cibuta John was right on hand, and he | pan out.” conducted them at once to the hotel—the| ‘‘That’s a wise plan,” Lawyer Skynn Dew drop Inn, where he had previously en- | added. gaged quarters for them. ‘We will let them declare their intentions These men were the railroad surveyors | first.’ whom Cibuta had engaged to survey the At that moment an awful sound was Bartolo claim. heard. On the morrow the work would com- It was a sound which defies description. mence, Could the croak of a bullfrog, the bray of During the evening there was no unusual ; a jackass and the best effort of a fog-horn be excitement in town, and at the usual hour, | combined in one discordant groan, and that or perhaps a little earlier, the lights were put | groan increased in volume to the desired out, pitch, it would perhaps give some idea of Soon, however, would come the serenade, | what the sound we speak of was. to which all looked eagerly forward, ‘A hoss-fiddle, by th’ great horn spoon!” cried Jem Patterson. And then the sound was repeated. “Oh! Good heavens!” growled Bill T wicker. ‘‘ That's awful!” And awful it was. It fairly made the flesh creep to hear it. It started a vibration that literally made the windows rattle in every house in the town, and it seemed as though it fairly shook the earth. The men of Bung-eye Camp had come pre- pared, and no mistake. ‘Tf that don't bring Cibuta John out,” de- clared Lawyer Skynn, ‘* nothing else will,” Half a dozen times, perhaps, the ** bow” was drawn across the ‘fiddle,’ and then the man from Jimtown shouted again: ‘* Cock-a-doodle-do | “Oh! Vm a-roarin’ whirl-wind from th’ distant preraries! I’m a wild-eyed hoosier from th’ ’way back counties 0’ Nowhar! I'm th’ Shanghai Rooster, Jam, an’ these heur's my pards. We're fire-eaters, you bet! We've jest kem over heur from Bung-eye, ter do th’ squar’ white thing by this heur Cyclone John o’ yourn; an’ we prepose ter du it, too! ‘“Thrre more yawps fer Cyclone John, pardners; ’Rah, rah rah! Tom cat! “Oh! We're th’ stuff, you bet! ‘* Cock-a-doodle-do ! CHAPTER XXYV. AN UNEXPECTED SERENAD®. ‘€ Oock-a-doodle-doo | ‘Oh! I’m a son-of-a-gun from Buzzard Roost! I’m th’ great old hump-backed horned toad o’ th’ great wild West! I’m th’ Shanghai Rooster from Jimtown Lode! ‘* Oock-a-doodle doo! Dee-doo-dee-doo | “Oh! jest hear me crow! I’m a howlin’ terror from th’ wilds o’ Nowhar! I’m a fighter! I’m a chief! I’m a hull grand army, foot an’ dragoon! I kin lick four times my weight in wildcat, tom-cat, er anything else! I kin whollop any two-legged bein’ this side o’ th’ Mississip’, eacept CYCLONE JOHN 0’ ANTE-BAR! ‘* Cock-a-doodle-doo! 'Three real old howl- in’ cheers an’ a tiger fer Cyclone John! Hip —hip—hurr-r-rah |” He it was—the giant Shanghai, as large as life and twice as natural. One of his wings was still unhinged, and flopping behind him very disjointedly, and the feathers of the other were all standing ‘*seventeen ways for conga Aa And the Shanghai was ‘‘howling” drunk. The hour was midnight, and the place was Ante-Bar. “Oh! I’m th—” : Yes, the bully had ventured to return, but At that moment, though, he was inter- he was not alone. ° rupted. Cibuta John, hastily dressed, opened the door and stepped out upon the piazza. ‘‘Hullo, strangers!” he exclaimed. ‘Hullo! what means all this?” ‘‘Thar he be, fellers, thar he be!” cried the man from Jimtown, pointing to Cibuta. ‘That's him—th’ great roarin’ cyclone. Three yawps more fer Cyclone John, th’ fu’st an’ only man what ever climbed th’ Shanghai! Hip—hip - Awrr-rrah!” And a wild ‘“ hurrah” it was, **But, strangers,’ Cibuta demanded, “what means all this? Is it a serenade?” ‘Bet yer life it is!” the man from Jim- town yelled. ‘‘D’ye s’pose we kem clar About fifty of the worst toughs of Bung- eye Camp were with him. They had come to serenade Cibuta John. Not a sound had been heard, so silently had these men entered the town, until the blowing bully broke forth as above. And then the town was awake in a mo- ment. The citizens had been silently preparing for their own serenade, and were congre- gated at Bill Twicker’s saloon, all ready to march to the Hucklebee mansion when the hour arrived, when they were surprised to hear the brawling shout of the giant from Jimtown. o:7 _ = 2 mn Out into the street they rushed, and then | over heur from Bung-eye fer nothin’? Oh, their surprise was complete. no! We've kem ter give ye a royal old send- There before the Hucklebee house they | off—a sarynade thet ye kin be proud of! beheld a great crowd of men, many of them ‘‘Pards, a leetle more moozic,”’ carrying torches, and all evidently as drunk | Again was the “‘ hoss-fiddle” sounded, and as lords. ‘again did windows rattle and teeth clatter, To say that the citizens were angry, would « Hold on, men!” Cibuta cried, as he de- not express their feelings at all. scended the steps and came out into the They were fighting mad in an instant. | street, ‘‘For the love of goodness, hold on! Here was their own serenade knocked | Do you want to resurrect the dead?” And higher than a kite, so to express it. he motioned with both hands to the’ players he whole town was awake in a moment, to stop, for his voice could not be heard. _ < as we just now said; the three cheers which! Atasignal from the Shanghai the *‘ music followed the man from Jimtown’s declama- ceased, and then Cibuta asked; Hens being almost loud enough to awaken the | ‘‘ What is it you want? nO EEE / “1 take it you have just come over here to . EComicbooks.co ; ; << ares