Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 416 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

* f Me - ee ee me Le - . ~ ~ > »: Tot a . -* ad Monte J im, the Black Sheep of Bismarck. . ‘ a =" ~~ oee * ' 19 ‘‘ Yes—and no,” hesitatingly; then with more decision: ‘‘ Let me explain to you, Mr. Rice, and then you will see for yourself how peculiar- ly Iam situated in life, It isa painful story for me to relate—” ‘‘Then spare yourself,” was his quick inter- position. ‘*I have no right to ask it of you, and surely no wish to give you pain, Heaven knows! 1 would be only too happy to spare you all pain—all trouble, even the slightest, if I only might!” ‘‘T believe—and thank you, dear friend,” said Medea, pressing his hands as he was slow- | reluctantly withdrawing them from hers, ] ay am sorry that I cannot give you the reward you crave, butas it is wholly beyond my pees! i the least 1 can do is to explain to you how came to be placed in such a peculiarly trying | situation.” “Tf you insist, I will make no further objec- tions. In this, asin all else, your will shall be my law,” he said, simply, little thinking that this very gentleness was making her task all the more difficult to perform. “My father died six months ago,” she said, plunging at once into the subject, as though ' | | deliberately uttered the dashing sport, appa- | rently satisfied with the results of that battle of | eyes. ‘‘I never take a dare, and if there is a | penalty of death attached to it, by way of mak- ing it more impressive, then it does strike me for all ’m worth. Icould no more avoid strad- dling a blind of that sort, than I could help loving a beautiful woman when she crosses my path. Asaman and a brother, Al, I'd advise you to call it a misdeal, and make a fresh start.” ‘**1 will, this far,” said Alva Pennington, with no less resolution, though his voice was more even and his gestures less extravagant than for- merly. ‘“‘I took the first words that came to | my tongue, because I felt too deeply to think of | picking and choosing my syllables. We'll deal em again, if you like, and this time you can | take your Bible oath that I’m giving it to you | straight as a string.” | ‘* | showed you the ghost of my love for Medea Pennington, and there’s no necessity for touch- | ing on that point any more particularly just | now. I also told you that I wished to gain a fortune in the shortest possible time, because 1 | hoped it would enable me to gain a wife. You | eager to reach the end of a disagreeable matter. | know, too, that she is on the hunt for Lloyd - He died respected by all who knew him, yet | Pennington, to carry out the wishes of her dead | there was a terrible secret in his past life, which even I did not suspect, though his only child, and his idol, as I believed with the best of cause. To me alone did he make his painful confession, when the doctors told him all earthly hope was father. You are Lloyd Pennington—” | ‘* As you will insist on my being that myste- | rious gentleman, let me give you one hint,” | lazily interposed the card sharp, with a lenguid | wave of his white hand. ‘‘ Deal mea little bet- | re and even me he bound to secrecy, until I | ter hand than you did at first, or I'll draw out ad made every effort in my power to find the erson whom, in the days gone by, he had so bitterly wronged. He made me swear to spend a lifetime, if no less would suffice, in the quest, which was to end only when I succeeded in find- ing the person, or obtained positive proof that he was dead.” ‘Ts that all?’ eagerly demanded Rice, as she paused. “If that is the bond you spoke of, it need not keep us apart. Marry me, and I will share your search. I will take all the trouble on my own shoulders. I will work night and day until your pledge to the dead is kept. I have no other ties—” He paused abruptly, checked in his impetuous speech by her uplifted hand, She spoke grave- ly, tenderly, but with a resolution which even he could not doubt: ‘‘T am sorry you have reverted to that sub- ject, Mr. Rice, but since you have, to avoid any chances of further misunderstanding, I wiil speak plainly. I do not love you, as a true- hearted man should be loved. Ido not know that I could ever love you, as you wish; but neither do I love any other man. I would not permit myself to indulge in such a sentiment, while my life-work remains unfinished. At the same time, I would like to retain your friend- ' ship if you can grant it on these terms—abso- lute avoidance of this subject.” ‘Tt will be hard, but Tll try my best,” was the grave, earnest response, as he held out his hand; and thus the compact was ratified be- tween them. ‘* Tt was in hopes of learning the real name of the man whom my dead father bade me seek that I visited the house of that woman this evening,” resumed Medea. ‘‘A man came to me here and said that his sister could tell me all. I went with him, and after forcing me to listen to a long and sickening story, thet woman declared the man I sought was her husband.” ‘““Why, she claims to be the wife of Curly Kaine, the wretch who so shamefully annoyed you that night on the train.” Medea stared at him in surprise. | “Of Curly Kaine?” she cried, in amaze- ent. ‘They claim to be man and wife, yes,” was the more quiet reply. ‘‘ It is rumored that she is wonderfully rich, however she obtained the money. She owns the gambling-hell calle? the Clipper Shades, which Curly Kaine manages. But surely that scoundrelly fellow cannot be the man you are seeking.” ““No—I don’t know,” helplessly murmured Medea, taken all aback. ‘‘She said he was her husband, but that they were living apart—that he had tried to kill her many times—” Her speech was cut sbort by a sharp explosion which apparently came from some spot almost directly overhead, closely followed by a wild scream and bitter curse. A crash of glass followed, then came a loud explosion that appeared to shake the entire building to its very foundation, and with the rumbling echoes was mingled a piercing shriek, as though of some one suffering agony the most intense. These later sounds apparently came also from the interior of the building, and startled almost out of her senses, Medea clung tremblingly to Rice, as tuey both leaped to their feet. CHAPTER XXII. MONTE JIM TAKES HIS BIBLE OATH. Monte Jim quietly met that fiery, threatening lare, and somehow, Alva Pennington found Fis own eyelids beginning to quiver, and his eyes growing weaker in that silent duel. “There is one little trait of my character, brother, which you appear to have forgotten,” of the game entirely. If I’m to receive all of | the kicks and curses, without any of the half- | pence, I reckon Ill have to pass.” | ‘You mz Ly jest if your fancy leads you that way,” said the young man, seriously, ‘‘ but I | am in sober earnest just now. ‘** Till bring you two face to face, and then, if | you can prove yourself the genuine Lioyd Pen- nington to her satisfaction, Medea will make her vow good. She will give you the fortune left iu | trust by her father, and if you choose to hold her | to it, will pledge herself to marry you.” “When you will kindly step in and blow out | the brains of your brother, so that you may bave the mournful satisfaction of wiping away the tears of the beautiful widow-before-she-was- ee er so!” cut in Monte Jim, with a grim | augh. Alva Pennington flushed a little, but his voice | was grave and steady as he resumed: “You have a right to mock at the words I ke when I was half beside myself at the thoughts of losing the only on lever loved—the | only one I ever can love. was a fool, and I. admit it now. But nevertheless, there was | method in my madness, as you shall see. | ‘* When she meets you, I will be present. Idid hope to win.a fortune, before then, that I might | lay it at her feet in place of the one she sur- | rendered to re As itis, with the odds all in | your favor, I’ll tell her how dearly I love her, | and bid her choose between you and riches at | our back and me, with only a stout heart anda ife’s love for backing. “Tf she decides in your favor—as she will, if you care to hold her to the vow she has made—I | will forgive her, congratulate you, and then— send a bullet through the place where my brains ought to be.” Calmly, almost coldly, these words were ut-— tered, but Monte Jim was a good judge of hu-| man nature, and he saw that every word was fully meant, that Alva Pennington would nct live to behold the one woman whom he loved , wed with another man, His former speech sounded like wild raving, but this was altogether | diiferen’. Ee lezned across the table, and extended his | and ‘* All right, my lad, since you put it in that | light,” be uttered, seriously. ‘‘There’s just mule enough in my composition to kick like thunder against anything thet sounds like bounce, or a personal threat; but this takesona | indulgein. It’s a luxury he can’t afford. If he ee: different shape, altogether. ‘*T reckon you’re the only person living that believes me to be Lloyd Pennington. drop the name as ery as I picked it up. Monte Jim is good enough for me. And, if you think best, 1°11 pull out of Bismarck until Miss Pen- | nington becomes satisfied that her man is not to be found here.” ‘On the contrary, you will pay her a visit with me, in the morning,” said Alva Penning- ton, quickly. ** And take my Bible oath that I am not her game?” “Wrong again. You will admit that you are Lloyd Pennington. You will hear her story, and when sbe makes the offer which she has sworn to do, vou will answer her plainly.” ‘* By declining with thanks?” and Monte Jim shrugged bis shoulders, making a wry grimace. “That. will be no easy task, brother mine; did you know it?” | ‘*Then accept it—and I'll keep my oath, sure | as fate!” | | ‘* By wasting a bullet that might be put to a far better use? Well, I begin to believe you are just mule enough to do as you threaten, and | though the world in general might not consider /no gambler, my dear would rather have the blood of almost any other manon my head. So, if you please. we'll con- sider that point settled. I can make money enough to supply my modest needs, as Monte Jim—and as for fair woman: I've seen a po.ite sufficiency of them in my lifetime.” Instead of brightening up, Alve Pennington looked, if possible, more gloomy than ever. ‘When you meet her—when she talks to you, as I know she will talk—when she offers you all —you'll give way. The man don’t live who could resist such a temptation!” ‘Have you got such a thing asa Bible any- where about your clothes, old fellow?’ sudcenly asked Monte Jim. ‘*No—what do you mean?” ejaculated the other, amazed. ‘* Never mind—this will serve my purpose just as well,” with a little laugh, as he opened a small drawer in the table and produced a pack of cards. ‘‘I doubt whether either you or I would know how to word an oath if taken on @ genuine Bible; but with this prayer book, we are more at home, All set, old telow—make your game!” ‘Curse your nonsenss, man!” grated Pen- nington, with a dark frown. ‘‘I am ta/king business!” ‘‘ And so am I,” was the sober response, as he cut and shuffled the cards ‘ith deft skill. ‘* Right here you see my Bible—the cnlv thing in print that I believe in. Asa true gambler, when I make oath on this, you can place more dependence on my keeping it than if I was sworn by a justice or a minister of the Gospel on the book they trust to.” . ‘Tf Tcan’t trust to your plain word,![ can’t de- pend on your oath; so put up your cards.” ‘““T thank you, brother.” gravely uttered Monte Jim. ‘‘ You shall not have cause to re- gret your confidence. I notonly pledge you my solemn word of honor, as a gentleman and @ gambler, to resign all claims I may or may not have on Miss Pennington, but I swear the same on this, my Bible!” He touched the cards to his lips, then cast them aside. ‘*So much for so much,” he said, with an air of relief. ‘‘ And now, if it’s no secret, may I ask how you came to spot me as this long-lost brother of yours? How came you to look for me herein Bismarck?’ ‘A friend of mine furnished theclew. You | may remember him; Frank Lisle is his name.” Your friend, you say? that?” ‘“ What do you mean?” ““T don’t like him,” was the grave respons-. ‘‘Tf ever there was a humoen snake, ihat ycurng fellow is one of the worst sort—poison fii m head to tail. Look out, brother, thet he don’t give ou a touch of his fangs one of these cays!” — sé , ank is square asa die. I’d sooner dcu myself than him, for a truer friend never drew the breath of life!” ‘* All right, if you only think so. he my es ec. 2 <y vad opinion against yours, and time wil , den & Oa ¥ * <- ey y ie i . ~_ : ~ vs ; ba 4 {* . { Vee , ie aS a * yt} fe on ‘ i | > a - is ’ eon” by ss . 7 ar ce : * * Soh . Are you certainof » ar ae ~, » x 'S ~~ J A . ~ 7* a re . ~ ; ¥ i which one of us has come the closest to catching the turn.” ‘And that reminds me—was that black- browed rascal really trying to cheat us, as you charged him with doing?” ‘ - s 7 *, ~ i ws ro + iss, < ‘“Was he?’ laughed Monte Jim, once more __ picking = thers cards and swiftly running them i over with remark!” * s dextrous fingers. ** Well, I should ez ; ‘“‘ But how?” persisted Pennington. ‘‘Icculdn’t de see anything wrong, and I watched him close as a cat watches a mouse.” : “ ‘*TIn your mind,” laughed Monte Jim, ‘* You're y, and the sooner you swear off playing cards . 4 -_©¢ a « ohm, te t: oe with men who mukeit — their trade, the richer you'll find yourself. You’ve got the grit, but that is the only quality of a successful sport you can muster. ‘“‘Now you're getting hot, and that issome-- thing a true card-player never allows himself to. once gets rattled, it’s all up with him for that cool his temper, a national bank in his breecheés- ocket couldn’t keep him from going dead _ roke, too transparent. It lets t your faintest thought, before you can fairly do so yourself. quit. If ycu get bit ona particular card, Re: hold a grudge against it and try to force repay your losses, by winning for you. more it kicks, the closer you stick to it. Good grit, no doubt, but of a sort that would wreck the smartest gambler in Christendom, if persist- in.” - Alva Pennington plainly writhed benenth this ‘9 ‘“Worse thon that, if “perego* your face is: ose who care to, read deal, and if he don’t draw off long enough tore) Fa _ * 4 7 , “ - - * - . " ia? > . = - > 4 “Sau ‘ae “ Another failing; you never know when to yous to 4 : af = Ly - ’ he . 4 * re . “Jy Sa? ll - candid criticism of his weak points as @ gam- +4 bler. ‘“‘ Tt's easy enough to talk—” aa a ‘‘ When one has a subject which affords so_ ‘Pm telling you all this for yo You'll never make the fortune you Crave by fol- lowing the pasteboards, unless you make a i many prominent points on which to stick a moral—just so,” was the laughing interposition, — own good, a FF it a very great loss, I’m free to confess that I cal change in your manner of play, and wear a — (E(0) m ,00 sy * - ~ “ “Y. th wee S %5 “ a