Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 438 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

a ee te ere et ee ee on = oe a a tr: —s — Ey — - a 4 ' 2 Ll —- r . eran. tickle ye in the right place, but—” an? ‘in’ to Oklahoma Nick. Evander Wright were mixed up in the affair; but that is as far as my knowledge extends.” ‘** All right, boss,” with a grave nod, though there was a shrewd, half-mocking twinkle in his keen eyes as he spoke. ‘‘ They ain’t nothin’ like startin’ out with a knowledge of the trail that’s afore ye. Ive knowed a feller to tell a black joke on a stranger to him, an’ then git licked out o’ his boots bv the very critter he was tellin’ of it to. An’all fer not makin’ sure the stranger to him was a stranger to the joke, too!” ‘You can rest at ease, Uncle Balt; I’m not likely to prove the subject of your yarn, though I freely admit that [’m not a iittle interested in him—a touch of the shop, maybe!” Boomer Balt tried tosmother another knowing grin by coughing lustily, thouzh without much success. And Henry Hornkohl must have been remarkably obtuse if he failed to see that his last statement was only accepted with a generous modicum of salt. Still he showed no uneasiness as he leaned back against the rock, refilling his pipe and lighting it. And Boomer Balt also composed himself like one who meant to do his sworn duty without fear or favor. ‘It'd take a mighty sight o’ time an’ wind fer to explain jest bow it was I come to git to the place, an’ hear the story, an’ simmer it all down so I could throw away the scum an’ bold fast ay to the plain facts, boss, but ef you will hev Toe ‘¢ Just confine yourself to the facts of the case, as you understand them, old fellow,” curtly in- terrupted the detective. ‘‘ Just tell me the story of Maurice North, and let Uncle—I should say Boomer Balt—lie over for the next trip,” ‘* What's the matter with uncle?” coolly asked the guide, that peculiar twinkle flashing back in his eyes. ‘‘I’m old enough fer uncle, an’ stran- er things then that hes happened right whar I in slap my hand onto ’em—jest as I mought slap you now, pardner.” ‘Uncle goes, then! But what were you about to rf ?? ‘*That Maurice North was a likely young fel- ler up yen’-way, an’ ef the plain truth must be told, nobody ’peared to feel more sart’in o’ this fact then ’Telie Wright her own self! Least- ways, that’s the way things looked to me when I come to sorter ’vestigate the case. ‘* Jest why I tuck so much trouble, don’t mind. I hed my reasons fer doin’ of it, an’ that's so “They was only one snag in the way, but that was a nasty one! The young feller was / chuck-full o’ life, an’ folks called him wild. Those that thought him the wildest was the very two he wanted to please the hardest—after *Telie, in course. | “Vander Wright didn’t take to him fera cent, an’ his lead was his wife ’Melie’s foller- after. An’ so it come that though Maurice North won the gal’s love, he couldn’t git no fur- der ‘long that trail! ‘‘ The old folks wouldn’t listen to him nur her, nur yit to Perry, who stuck up stoutly fer all that pleased his twin sister. It was good enough to him ef she tuck a fancy anywhar. As folks said, her will was jest pure law to Perry. ‘Maurice North tried all he knowed how to it over the dislike the old folks felt fer him, ut it couldn’t be done. They turned him out o’ doors when he come to beg fer the hand 0’ tha’r daughter, an’ folks do say that ’Vander Wright even talked o’ kickin’ an’ sech-like doin’s, ef the lad didn’t skin out in a holv burry!” * Stick to the trail, Uncle Balt!” ea) mut- tered Henry Hornkobl, frowning. ‘‘ Tell the plain story, without adding any flounces, lease.” ‘Cross my heart ef I didn’t hear ’em say jest them words, boss!” earnestly protested the vet- “Tl take ’em all back, ef they don’t cs y should I care?” frowned the detective. *€Go on with your yarn, and embroider it after your own taste for all I care.” “T ain’t sayin’ why ye should keer, nur yit that you do keer; but when a hoss that I’m ridin’ takes to flinchin’ an’ runnin’ sideways, I never could help lookin’ down to make sure that my spur wasn’t bumpin’ too close to its ribs fer comfort. But that ain’t my story, as you say. x It was a hard time fer the young folks, from all a’counts. They say that Maurice North tried his level best fer to git ’Telie to run off with him t married whether or no, but that she couldn’t quite fetch herself to go that fur while they was even the ghost of achanceleft o’ bring- in’ the old folks ‘round to thar way o’ thinkin’. An’ when he found she held out so stiddy, like many another poor critter afore him, Maurice North swore that she didn’t love him half as well as he loved her, an’ struck off in a red-hot fever o’ mis’ableness. “They say he went off on a he-ole spree, try- himself up to the nozzle with fire- water an’ so drownd out his misery by leavin’ no room fer it to slosh around in. An’ from all a’- counts, he come mighty nigh doin’ of it, too! ‘‘ Ho fell in with a little gang o’ young fellers in town, an’ from drinkin’ they fell to playin’ keerds fer pritty much all they was wu’th. In the gang was Nick Van Bibber, an’ another fel- ler named George Humphrey; a country-sort of a gambler an’ blood, ye understand. ‘**Maurice North was pritty well fixed, they say; his folks was dead, an’ left him a couple 0’ good farms, sume money an’ heaps 0’ stock. His word was looked on as mighty nigh as good as the gineral run o’ bonds, and that’s part reason why when his realy money run out he was ’low- ed to go on bettin’ as high as he keered, givin’ his notes when he lost, which ’pears to be the heft o’ the time, from all a’coants, ‘Tt was ’way long in the night when the party broke up ina row. It was hard to say jest who was most to blame, but on one p’int all who told the story after’ds agreed: Maurice North ’cused George Humphrey o’ cheatin’, an’ knocked him heels-over-appletight with his fist. ** Airly the next mornin’ Squire Jones was routed out o’ bed by a turrible hammerin’ onto his front door, an’ when he stuck his head out o’ winder, he see a couvie o’ men who told him to git into his wardrobe es quick es natur’d ‘low him; that thar’d bin a bloody murder done not more’n a mile from his very identical door! ‘* The squire hustled ’round mighty lively, fer he wasn’t no perticklar slouch him own self, ef he did hev to tote the val’ie o’ three men’s weicht *bout wharever he went. Hegot his hired men out, an’ then the two strangers told tha’r story. "Pears like they was on the tramp, lookin’ | | fer work, an’ hed camped out in the hollow | ‘longside the main road. They was woke up in the night by a ugly sound o’ quarreli’ not fur away from whar they was catinped, an’ though they didn’t git up at once, they lay an’ listened, “They could make out two voices, but they said they didn’t know either of ’em; which was nat’ral enough, seein’ they claimed to be stran- gers in them parts. They ketched a name or two, but they couldn’t jest make ’em out plain enough to ’member after the row was over. nn nn a speaker through his nearly closed lids, slowly nodding assent: ‘*'Yaas, he got away, jest as you think you heard somebody say. He was safe enough in jail when the sun went down, but when the sun come up, whar was he? That’s what the jailer wanted to know, right bad; but they wasn’t even an echo to answer him whar!” ** And he was never recaptured, of course?” ‘** Not a ketch!” with that peculiar smile deep- ening and widening. ‘* Nor heard of?” ‘“Nor heard of—leastways by them as hed any object in tellin’ what they knowed. I wouldn’t like to take oath that J bain’t see’d him, as nigh to hand as I be to youw this blessed minnit!” ‘* And you never tried to arrest him?” ‘* What fer?’ with a sudden frown. “I don’t b’lieve he killed the gambler. It wes either done by them tramps, or—Oklahoma Nick!” ‘‘ What makes you suspect him?” shai ply de- manded the detective. ‘* Partly one thing an’ partly another,” was the slow response. ‘I found out that Nick was tryin’ to court "Telie Wright. That’s one rea- son. The money tuck from George Humphrey was never found, though the hull North place was s’arched over fit to find a lost needle. That’s another. Fer ef North was too drunk to destroy his notes; too drunk to wash his hands clean or to brush up his clothes or to kerry off the knife which everybody ’most knowed was his; wouldn’t he be too drunk to hide that wealth whar nobody could find it? I say yes!” ** Not a bad point, but one that might apply to any other person as well as to Oklahoma Nick. Mind you, uncle, [ don’t like the fellow one bit more than you appear to, but I can’t help looking at the matter with professional eyes; and I fail to see aught that even shadows ‘* Then they heard a cussin’ an’ a racket, end- | Oklahoma Nick as the murderer of George in’ in a turrible yell that sent tha’r heads under | Humphrey.” et blankets fer fear an’ tremblin’. ** The hurry, then all was still fer a bit. They tried to make each other b’lieve that they wasn’t no harm done, after all, but it was mighty up-hill work. And after layin’ an’ listenin’ fer more’n a hour, they ’solved to crawl. down that way to set them- selves easy or know the wu’st. ‘Tt turned out to be the last, fer fu’st they knowed they run right in on a dead man layin’ by the side o’ the road. They only stopped long enough fer to make sure he was dead, then the putt out fer the nighest house, skeered to wait fer anybody to come ’long, for fear they would be ’cused o’ doin’ the job tha’r own selves, ‘Waal, they ain’t no use in drawin’ the story out, I don’t reckon, It was George Humpbrey layin’ thar dead, cut in a dozen places. They was a knife left stuck in his side, the point reachin’ his heart. That was the only clew they was left, but it was enough. Fer more then one 0’ the crowd that gethered about swore the knife b’longed to Maurice North. ‘That was enough to set the crowd to think- in’, an’ the squire hurried to the North farm- house, whar they found Maurice in bed, snorin’ off bis drunk. They didn’t wake him up ontel they tuck a look at his room, an’ bis clothes. Thar was blood on his coat an’ his shirt, Thar was bloody water whar he’d washed his ban’s an’ they was blood on his wrists when they looked, as though he’d bin too nigh drunk to | make a clean job o’ the washin’, They went through his clothes, but found only a little money. In the stove, they found some torn pa- , which turned out to be notes signed by Taurice North. ‘*' Waal, of course he was ’rested an’ brung up fer a prepa tery. trial, like. The two tramps told tha’r story. The squire told what was noted down at the house. An’ Nick Van Bibber come forward to make oath that Maurice North kerried that same knife on the night o’ the mur- der: that one time he stuck it in the table afore him, sw’arin’ that ef he ketched a bit o’ cheatin’ oin’ on ’round the board, he’d drive it to the an’le in the heart o’ the one with two nimble fingers. “This was the heft o’ what was brung up ag’inst the lad, though Nick Van Pibber also swore to one or two o’ the torn-up notes. They hed bin won by him that night, an’ after’ds lost to George Humphrey, who was the only one that left off ahead o’ the game. ‘‘The tramps couldn’t take oath that they re- cognized the voice o’ the pris’ner as one o’ them they’d heard when incamp. But it didn’t need that. Thar was plenty o’ cause fer holdin’ Maurice North, an’ he was bound over to ap- pear fer trial. “Of all that part o’ the country, I don’t reckon they was more’n two people, outside 0’ the one or ones wh? killed George Humphrey, who held faith in Maurice North. Them two “i ‘Telie Wright an’ her twin brother, Peri- cles. ‘*It looks mightv black against the young fallow!” frowned Henry Hornkohl, with a fur- tive glance into the face of his guide. ‘‘ I should say he was wise to make a moonlight flitting of it! For he did get away, before trial, I think heard say?” | Uncle Balt laughed softly as he gazed at the —— Boomer Balt simply gave vent to a grunt, heard a hoss gallopin’ off in a heap | that might be interpreted to mean almost any- thing, or to mean absolutely nothing, for that matter. He shrugged his shoulders a little to the first heavy drops of rain, but made no move to seek more perfect shelter. He sccmed wait- ing for his employer to question him further, or, in default of this, to signify ttat bis duty was completed for the time being. Henry Hornkohl, better shielded from the heavy drops by the overhanging roek, smoked on in silence, the ruddy light of the cemp-fire lending a peculiar whiteness to his clear-cut features. He seemed wholly absorbed in thought, and Boomer Balt took the on} ortunity to closely scan his features, as though trying to forever put atrest the doubts or suspicions which he almost certainly entertained. But before he could reach a satisfactory con- clusion, there came a startling interruption. A wild, unearthly Jaugh broke the silence, | and as the scouts and soldiers started in sur- rise, a tall form stalked through the gloom into the firelight, staring wildly atout him for a moment, Then, with a hoarse, chcking cry, he clasped one hand to his temp’es, swayin from side to side like a drunken man. then fe to the ground in a quivering heap, his head al- most in the fire. With a sharp cry Boomer Balt leaped forward and dragged him part way around, bending low and eagerly scanning his blocdsteined face. ‘* Help, here!” he cried, his voice hearse and shaken with strong emotiop. ‘‘ Help—it's Perry Wright!” CHAPTER XVI. MOLLY FEATHERTOP AND HER TWINS. THAT name scarcely crossed the lips of the boomer guide before Henry Hornkch] was at his side, gazing intently into the blcod-marked face of the being who had so strangely inter- rupted them, ‘‘ What’s up, Jad—what’s gone wrong?” cried Boomer Balt, as he supported the bare head with its tangled locks of yellow bair, now damp with the heavily-falling rain. There was strongest anxiety in his voice, and even in that moment of surprise the detective turned to look at the old man, more than ever uzzled; for surely a mere acquaintance would not show such deep feeling. Only a glance, but it lasted long enough for Boomer Balt to feel and see it, and the de- tective frowned a little as he noted the in- stant change which followed. More than ever he felt that there was some strong tie connect- ing we boomer guide with this yellow-haired iant. ‘* Gone to sleep too hard fer talk*n’, ain't he?” Boomer Balt said, gently lowering the head of the senseless man to the ground, bis brown hands rapidly, intelligently investigating, pausing as they reached the bullet-wound in the young giant’s left breast. His ruddy face turned a shade paler as he made this discovery, and there was a hard, vengeful, yet anxious echo in his tones as he muttered : ‘‘Shot! Ef he could only tell who dene it an’ Ef he could only tell what’s ’come o’ the Ef—he’s got to! You crit- tote this man-inountain out why! rest o’ the family! ters, lend a han’ to : Gomme JOOKS a €or