Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 420 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

— te y ’ em a , 4 > eee eee ee The Old River Sport. ‘*‘ He never shall marry me, Linda, if I can help it, and I believe I can heip it. It takes two to make a bargain, you know.” * Don’t you really want to marry him, then?” joyfully exclaimed the girl. ‘* Not a bit of it. I would die first. Tell me all you know about it, my dear, and we will talk the matter over and think of what we had better do.” Linda became quite friendly and confiden- tial. ‘‘He had gone away somewhere,” said she, ‘Sand L was waitin’ and watchin’ fur him to not imagine the use to which it was intended to put them, The purpose of their presence there was speedily made plain after the presumed Regu- lators rode up. | Those wide-awake Shropshires sallied sut into the hall, and there, under cover of the darkness, they silently and swiftly moved the barrels so that they formed an excellent barricade at each end, with spaces to fire through if necessary. Mark Hannafin and Silas Birch, when they ' heard the intent and meaning of this nocturnal come back, as I wanted to see all I could of | him. When he come back with that other man, they stopped around at the end of the house and had a talk, and I hid thar and lis- tened to ’em.” ‘‘T heard them too,” responded Eva. “It was terrible. Did you hear them say that he had killed my brother?” ‘‘T heered su’thin’ o’ that sort, but couldn’t take it in right, I reckon, because | was so wor- ried about other things.” ‘* Do you think I could marry a man who had killed my brother?’ ‘* Well, no, it don’t look like you could,” can- didly admitted Linda, ‘‘ But mebbe you hain’t got the say about it. He says toat he means to marry you anyhow.” ‘‘He shall not marry me, somehow or any- how.” ‘* But he says he wiil, and if he does I'll have you to kill.” ‘*It will be a better plan, my dear—better than killing anybody—to help me get away from here and out of bis reach. Will you help medo that, Linde?” “Wish I could. mought do?’ ‘*Can’t you get my clothes for me?” ‘Dunno, I kin try.” ‘7 should think it would be easy fcr you, if you know where they are, to ship down aad get them to-night, while your folks must be asleep.” * Yes, [kin git’em, and I will. Ill go and git °em right now.” As Linda arose for this purpose, she was startled by a noise outside, and instantly re- sumed her place on the bed, snatching at Eva’s band. ‘‘ Hark!” she whispered. knew *twould come!” CHAPTER XVII. VICTORY AND RETREAT. Wuat it was that was coming was at first a mystery to Eva Talcott, though she felt that it must be something fearful, as Linda seemed to dread 1t so much. Directly she heard the trampling of horses’ feet, and then it became evident that horses had stopped in front of the house. hen voices were indistinctly heard, and a shot was fired which was heard very distinctly, causing Eva to start and Linda to scream. The shot was doubtless intended as a hail, but it was not needed in that way, for the Shrop- shires down stairs, se quite as acute of hear- ing as Linda, if not a ittle more so, had also heard the horses, and were instantly on the elert. To use the expression current in that region, they were wide awake and full of fleas. ‘“Unele Enoch” Shropshire, without opening the door, and speaking through a crack in the shutter, answered the hail, and asked the late arrivals what they wanted. ‘“We want you, dog-on you!” sternly replied the leader of the party outside. ‘‘ We want the hull durned batch of you!” ‘You ain’t goin’ to git us in any sech way as that. W’ot you want us fur?” ‘‘ You know well enough what we want you fur. Come out o’ thar, you infernal hoss-thieves, or we'll fetch you oul in a way thaill hurt ou!” This warlike talk was plainly heard by the two trembling girls up-stairs, and was equally terrifying to both of them. ‘““That man calls your father a horse-thief,” whispered Eva. ‘Yes, that’s so,” answered Linda. ‘Dad's a hoss-thief, and Bob’s a hoss-thief, and so is Ben, and I reckon maw an me are hoss-thieves too. I’ve been waitin’ and lookin’ fur ’em to come along and take us out and hang us. Looks like they mean to do it now.” The only consolation that Eva Talcott could find in this new complication was the thought that she and Linda could not ibly be mis- taken for borse-thieves, and that in the general overturning of things she might be freed from the unpleasant environment of Mark Hannafin and the Shropshires. The last-named tough citizens, however, had something to do as well as something to say in the matter, and they proceeded to get in their work in a style which showed that this precise contingency had been contemplated and calcu- ted on. When Eva Talcott entered the house she had seen a number of barrels, apparently full, stand- ing in the space between the two buildings that served as an open hall; but she naturally did ‘*]t’s a-comin’! I | / — i | visitation, were deeply disgusted—especially the latter—with the turn their affairs had taken; but their disgust was increased when they were called upon to aid in defense of the den. ‘* That won't do, Uncle Enoch,” replied Mark. | ** You can’t expect us to mix up in this sort of thing.” ‘*'You’d better do it, though,” rejoined the elder Shropshire. ‘‘ Youre in the same boat that we’re in, and thar’s only one way to git out o’ the scrape. *Way goes you're gal, unless you turn in and help us.” ‘‘ We've got nothing to fight with,” grumbled Mark. ‘“Thar’s guns right afore your eyes, and they’re loaded, too.” Hanvafin reluctantly took a rifle and the posi- tion that was assigned to him; but Birch stub- bornly declared that he would rather die right there than have anything to do with the busi- ness, Having finished their fortification in very short order, the Shropshires were ready for ac- tion. The Regulators, as they would probably have styled themselves, seemed to number eight or What do you reckon I | ten men, and they appeared to be hitching their horses out of the way, preparatory to beginning work in earnest. Enoch Shropshire hailed them and warned them off, ‘You had better cl’ar out, you durned night- hawks! Thar ain’t no hoss-thieves yer, and if you fool around us you'll soon know who is go- iv’ to git hurt.” ‘*Come out o’ thar, or we'll fetch you out!” was the fierce reply. A brief silence ensued, duriog which the out- siders were supposed to be getting ready for the onset. “Will you mandced. Enoch Shropshire replied that he would first see them all in a place of exceeding hotness, and the business began. First there came a shot from the outlying tim- ber, and then a scattering volley, doubtless in- tended to draw the fire of the besieged, or to de- termine whether they really meant to resist. anor were not to be bamboozled, however, though they caused it to be plainly understood that they were alive and dangerous. Under the directions of ‘‘ Uncle Enoch” they fired a fow shots in the direction of the flashes outside, but fired slowly and at their leisure, satisfied that they were not exposing themselves to any danger. It was already evident to their assailants that they held the advantage in this way, and, efter another and closer volley that sent bullets plumping into the barrels, a rush was made from the timber. The rush was what the Shropshires had been expecting and were prepared for. It was made toward the front of the house only, the assailants showing no strategy worth speaking of in the attack, and there it was met by a resolute and effective defense. ‘* Aunt Eliza,” who proved herself a good enough man for the emergency, bad added her- self at the first alarm to the fighting force, and, with the unwilling aid of Mark Hannafin, the Shropshires were quite equal to the work they Rifles and pistols blazed from behind the bar- rels, and sent forth their deadly contents so swiftly and viciously that the rush stopped when it had scarcely got a fair start. The fight was then practically over, for it was evident that the assailants had suffered too se- verely to care to renew the contest. One of them at least had been hit, as they could be seen huldled together, ss if carrying off some person who had been killed or wound- “ and there was no more firing from their side, The Shropshires, acting on the principle of building a golden bridge for a flying enemy, considerately let them alone. Their leader finally hailed the house from a safe distance. ‘* We'll come back here again, you durned scoundrels, and then we'll clean out this nest and make an end of you!” No attention was paid to this threat, as it was certain that the threateners were going away, this fact being made evident by the sounds of their retreating horses, and afterward by Ben, who made a scout into the timber and found no trace of them ne: ‘‘Good riddance to bad rubbish!” exclaimed ‘*Uncle Enoch.” ‘‘ We brushed ’em away easy enough; but ’'d adurned sight rather not ha’ had it to do,” surrender?” their leader de- 15 ‘*T would ‘‘ The same here,” observed Mark. ; not be mixed up in such a scrape as that again ! i ‘ , LE cc ce wee ee ee for any money.” ‘“*] can’t blame you, Mr. Hannafin, as I sorter feel the same way myself. For all 1 know, those may be good men who came here, and I don’t want to hurt’em or put’em to any trouble, So I shall fix things so that the difficulty won’t occur ag’in.” ‘* What will you do?” inquired Mark. ‘* Jest light out o’ yere, and let those cusses whistle fur us when they come ag’in.” ‘‘ Where will you go to?” ‘*T know a good place and a safe place—whar they won’t think o’ lookin’ fur us, and couldn't git us if they should find us.” ‘* Will you take me and the S Stage lady?” ‘“Sart’in if you say so. You stick to me, Mr. Hannafin, and I’) stick to you, and I recken you'll find out that your Uncle Enoch will do to tie to. Jest leave the hull business to me, my boy, and [ll bring you out all right.” The two girls up-stairs had heard nothing of the conversation below, beyond a confused mur- mur of voices, as the attack and the firing had frightened them so that they were afraid to stir from their position on the bed, Shortly they were 4 AR of the determina- tion of their hosts by the arrival of ** Aunt Eliza,” who brought up Eva’s clothing and the gourd lamp. ‘You may put on your things, miss,” said she, ‘‘and git ready as soon as you want to, You're goin’ away from yere.” ‘‘T am willing to stay here,” answered the young lady. ‘I have no wish to go away.” ‘* You're goin’, though, all the same. Why, Lindy, w’ot on airth air you doin’ up yere? Who told you you mought come up yere? Youw’re gittin’ to be the sneakin’est crittur I know of, as well as the ornariest. Cl’ar ot you durned no ’count fool-headed snip, afore smash you!” Linda did not wait to be smashed, but skurried away and almost tumbled down the ladder. , it was more than ever evident that she was not a favorite in her own family. The old woman followed her daughter, with- out paying any attention to Eva’s, protests and remonstrances, Left to Lerself, the young lady considered as calinly as she could the question cf what she hed better do, and came to the conclusion that it would be easier as well as safer to obey orders, ture to refuse. At all events she was glad to get her clothing, and was willing enough to dress herself, as she would thus be enabled to take advantage of any chance in her favor that might arise. Her clothes were dry, though they had not felt the tuuch of an iron, and she was painfully aware of the fact that there was not a bit of style about them; but they were a covering and a sufficient protection from the weather at that time and place. She felt more like herself when she was attived in her own garments, and did not hesitate to look and listen at what was going on below, while she remained up-stairsand waited for further de- velopments. Nothing of any special interest reached her ears, and the developments came soon enough, Mrs. Shropshire called to her after a while, and she descended the ladder and found the family ready to start. From some mysterious hiding-place near by Bob and Ben had brought several borses—it is probable that in the batch were scme of those whose loss Fad aroused the wrath of the Regu- lators—and they were saddled and ready for the road, ; Two of them that carried side-saddles were in- tended for Eva Talcott and Mrs. Shropshire, a Linda, and another was loaded with such provi- take away. ‘““No horse for me, if you please,” observed animal that kad been provided for bim. Hannatin. You surely can’t expect to go 7? ‘s Well, I believe that what traveling I have to do can be dene afcot. I am not going your way, ou see.” ‘“Whet way are you going, then?” ; “* Just going to try to work my way back to civilizaticn. Without meaning any disrespect to present company, I must say that this style of thing is not at al I gasses to slide out and get where I ag Wy 8 inoch Shropshire was disturbed by this defec- tion, and he a eagerly to Mark. oa Shall we let that feller go? Isit safe?’ “* Quite safe, old man. he will not help us, you may be sure that he will do nothing to burt us.” ‘* Good-by, Mark, and good luck to you!” was Birch’s parting salutation. self. 7” - \ JOO Cc - _s eu —— a a as she would be forced to doso if she should ven- rman’s saddle being considered good enough for sions end “ phundcr” as the Shropshires chose to | Silas Birch when his attention was called to the. ‘What do you mean, Sile?? demanded Mark ‘ ever mind bim. If “Good- by, Sile, and try to tak@care of your- _ ee a é in my line of business, and : J As Birch had gone off at his own will and without question, it seemed to Eva that there