Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 390 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

26 ‘‘ War they tryin’ ter steal ye ag’in, leetle gal?” ‘“Yes,” said Nettie, ‘‘and but for that brave man, Smith, they would have suc- ceeded. I believe he has killed at least three of them. *‘T had just stepped out upon the piazza to see where John was, when I was seized by four men and borne rapidly away. “T eried for help at once, and Smith sprung immediately to my rescue, ‘But, where is John?” Could she have seen the faces around her more distinctly, she would have seen most of them turn deathly pale, As it was, she only knew that the moment the question left her lips she was almost de- serted, for nearly all rushed away up the creek toward the point when she beheld the flashing torches of the serenaders. “What does this mean?” she hurriedly asked of the few who remained near her. ‘‘ 1s John in danger?” And then as no one an- swered her at once, she added: “Oh! He din danger, and you will not tell me! Quick! Follow me to the rescue!” And the brave woman rushed forward. Her guardsman, Smith, came running up just as she started, calling to her to stop and not run into further danger, but her only an- swer was a command for him to follow her. And that he did. Meanwhile, the men who had Cibuta John in such a foul fix had obeyed their leader’s order, and attempted to lynch their prisoner. Barely had they pulled the rope tight, though, when it suddenly parted, and the three or four who had hold of it fell to the ground all in a heap. P This was a surprise they had not looked or. In fact, they had taken care to procure a piece of rope which they could depend on, and they knew at once that it must have been tampered with. \ ith an-oath the man from Jimtown | quickly examined it, and immediately ex- claimed: » ‘‘ Cut, by th’ etarnal!” ‘*Out?”’ the others repeated. ‘‘ Who could ’a’ done it?” ‘Thar’s some p’izen whelp up th’ tree thar, that's who!” the giant howled. ‘‘ Blaze away up thar an’ fetch him down!” Instantly a score of bullets went singing up among the branches, but the result was nothing. The men were puzzled. Again the rope was thrown over the limb and made all ready, again was the order iven to hoist, and again did it part as be- ore. Then again did the bullets fly thick and fast up among the leaves and branches of the old cottonwood. But the result was the same as before— nothing. Alarmed by the shots, the citizens of the Bar now came rushing upon the scene in great numbers, Nettie, the bride, among them, The moment she realized her husband’s danger she tried to rush to him, but she was held back. She stormed at this, but the men who held her were firm and would not allow her to rush into new dangers. ‘Stan’ back, citizens, stan’ back!” the man from Jimtown warned. ‘‘ We means biz, an’ ef we have ter fire on ye, we'll shoot ter kill th’ gal!” ‘‘ Stand back, friends, and do not risk a shot!” Cibuta ordered. And, utterly powerless under the circum- stances, the men obeyed. Once again, then, the rope was tried, thrown over the limb and adjusted, and once again was the order given to pull; and then once again did it part. ~ No one could understand it. And then instantly followed another and still greater surprise. A thousand little streams of fire came pouring down out of the tree, and as they fell they took the form of serpents. All over the ground they writhed and squirmed, darting hither and thither, and all around through the air they flashed in count- less numbers. Nor were they harmless, for whoever they touched they burned. They were respecters of neither friend nor ——————— ee EE ee ee ae aE. >a I TT ee i foe, so far as Cibuta John was concerned, but did their work blindly. But this the men of Bung-eye did not notice, for being directly under the tree, they received them in abundance. They hesitated for an instant, and then with wild yells of pain and fear they turned and fied. CHAPTER XXVII. CIBUTA JOHN’S OATH, Creuta Jon himself was not long, then, in getting out from under the tree, as may be imagined, Bill Twicker released his hands at once, and the rope was hurriedly cast off from his neck, And then Nettie sprung into his arms. If the Bung-eye Camp crowd was sur- prised at this sudden shower of fire, no less so were the citizens of Ante-Bar. It was something entirely unlooked for. For an instant Cibuta held his bride, and then he turned to the crowd and said: ‘Be after those cowardly curs, men of Ante-Bar! You have them at a disadvantage now, while they are so badly frightened, and you can easily run them clear out of town. ‘Go for them!” And the men of Ante-Bar dd go. The Jimtown giant and his crowd were about coming to a halt when the charge was made, and they were not prepared for it. “Sock it to ’em, pardners!” cried Bill Twicker. ‘‘Give ’em merry old hail colum- biar!” And as he spoke, he blazed away right and left with his revolvers. And so hard did the men of Ante-Bar press, that the Bung-eye crowd was forced to re- treat in haste after delivering a scattering fire, which did but little or no damage. ‘‘Keep it up, pards!” Bill cried, ‘‘ Sock it to ‘em! Warm the’r jackets for ’em!” And the citizens pressed on, sending in a shower of lead that caused more than one of the villains to fall by the wayside. The rascals fell back up the creek until they reached that point where the valley nar- rowed, and where large bowlders lay scat- tered around in wild confusion, and there they made a stand, Sheltering themselves behind the rocks, they began to return shot for shot. ‘ And net without effect. Several of Ante-Bar’s brave men were hit, and poor Tom Billings fell to rise no more. Fairly maddened at this, the others were about to make a desperate charge, but Bill T wicker ordered them to fall back. \ ‘*No use, pards,” he said, ‘‘fer they kin hold them ’ar rocks ag’in a hull army. ‘‘Git back out 0’ range as soon’s ye kin, an’ we’ll try ’em in some other way.” Seeing, then, that Bill was right, the men obeyed. But not without much grumbling and loud howls for revenge. ‘*Oh!” Bill exclaimed, ‘‘ ye shell have re- venge. pards, an’ all ye want; but we can’t git it by committin’ susancide. *T’'ll tell ye how we'll fix ’em, boys, we'll git around ‘em an’ go fer ’em on both sides ter wunst. ‘* Ef that don’t fix ’em, then my best gal’s name wasn’t Sal!” ‘‘That’s jest th’ idee!” agreed Jem Patter- son, ‘We kin git around ’em in about twenty minutes, an’ if we don’t make ‘em sing Kivi, then ye kin kick me /” ‘Well, Jem,” said Bill, ‘‘ you take about half th’ men an’ git around thar, an’ as soon as we hear you go fer ’em, we’ll pitch in from this side.” ‘‘All right. Come on, boys,” and Jem started off, half the crowd following him. ‘‘Now then, pards,” said Bill, to those who remained with him, ‘‘ jest git yer shoot- in’-irons in order fer biz; an’ ef we don’t lay out this heur Bung-eye crowd, it'll be mighty queer.’ And silently the men prepared for the coming strife. It was—or at least it should have been a moonlight night, as the previous night had been, but it was very cloudy. And the men from Bung-eye Camp having thrown away their torches, all around in this part of the valley was deep darkness. Ten minutes—twenty minutes passed, and nothing was heard from Jem Patterson. ‘* Wonder whar they be?” some one partly exclaimed. | ———_— ‘* Give it up,” was ill Twicker’s response; ' ‘but it’s gettin’ high time that they was HU CUUAg 0(#} “= =0.(.......——.._._..|§..|.....-.—.'''' . s/s eeeseeens ee ae “ heerd from.” At that instant Jem's voice was heard. ‘Hullo, Bill!” he cried, the sound coming ' from the direction of the bowlders. ** Hullo!” was Bill’s quick answer. ‘‘What’s up?” ) ‘“They’ve puckercheed!” eermy? ~ 9? A rh deuce ye say!” » Fact, sure’s ye liv And true it was. Some in the Bung-eye crowd had once been citizens of Ante-Bar, having severed their allegiance when the prohibition liquor law was put into effect, and ihey knew well the danger of a long delay amid the bowl- ders. They informed the others that if they re- _ mained there they would soon find them- selves in a tight place, and so as soon as the ANS men fell back, they hastened silent- y away. By the time Jem Patterson and his follow- ers could get around there, they were out of sight and hearing, and were laying distance behind them as fast as possible. For one night they bad had enough. Bill Twicker and his men at once ad- vanced, and the two parties again became one. ‘Gol dast the’r pictur’s!” Bill cried. “They knowed_ better’n ter stay thar long.” Picking poor Tom Billings’s body up, and assisting their wounded, the men returned sadly to town. Meanwhile, under the big cottonwood tree, the mystery of Cibuta John’s wonderful escape from death by hanging, and the mbes of the fiery serpents, were made clear. Barely had the men started in pursuit of the villainous Bung-eye gang, when a wild, weird and unearthly laugh was heard, Whence came it?” No one could answer that. It seemed to come from overhead, and it seemed to come from the ground, Two or three times it was heard, and then all was made plain. Out from the hollow of the tree stepped— Mother Wolf! the old witch of the mountain. ‘‘He, he, he! Ho, ho, ho!” she laughed. ‘Oh! Mother Wolf knew how to clear them oul! Ha, ha, ha!” ‘* Tow did you know they would bring me to this particular tree?’ Cibuta John asked, recalling to mind the picture he had seen in the old hag’s mystic bow]. ‘‘How does Mother Wolf know many a, thing?” was the witch’s ae in reply. ‘* How does she know that Don Juan Bartolo is fated to die upon that very limb?” And she pointed to the one upon which the rope for Cibuta’s neck had so lately hung. ‘‘Do you mean that?” Cibuta John quickly asked. ‘‘T do. It is fated so to be. xX ‘‘Ah! curse the name! Mother Wolf’s : arm will not then reach out over the limb ; from tke hollow trunk to cut the rope. Ha, ; ha, ha! Oh, no!” And again did she laugh in her horrible manner. ‘‘ And it was you who saved my life! I shall not forget you, Mother Wolf.” And Cibuta took her old and shriveled hand in his as he spoke. ‘* Thank you, my son, thank you,” was the old woman’s response. ‘‘ You and your fairy-like bride have been good to me, and I must repay you if I can. ‘But Mother Wolf's days are now num- oY bered, and she cannot serve you long.” Se hi ‘*Oh! do not say that!” cried Nettie. ¥ ‘*Tt is true, my child, true, true. And ” Mother Wolf has a favor to ask.” t “Name it!” Cibuta John cried. ‘‘ Name . it, Mother, and if it is at all possible for me ) to grant it, 1 certainly shall do so,” 2s ‘‘Well, my son, itis this: I want you to avenge my death, for I shall be murdered !” ‘« Murdered?” ane | ce Yes.” ‘‘ And can we not save you? Is there noth- ing that can be done to change the decree of fate?” ‘‘ Nothing can be done,” was the calm and sad reply. ‘‘It is fated that in saving your life I shall lose my own.” “This must not—shall not be!” Cibuta de- clared, emphatically. b «* G| ooo) Me EO