Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 455 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

42 village. His name is Buckingham. him Blacklock Ben!” _ If Abram was disappointed because his first _ revelation did not cause a sensation, he had no ' cause to feel that way now. Langleigh had been - leaning forward in bis aney ht, but as Abram ronounced that name he suddenly recoiled, falling back in the chair like one collapsed, His | face had suddenly become very pale, and the ' wild look in his eyes startled the servant. ‘“‘ What! sir, are you ill?” he cried. _. Langleigh put out one hand feebly. **No, no!” he hoarsely muttered. give me time!” Abram looked in wonder, He could not un- derstand this great agitation, this alarm; and ' indeed, it seemed strange. True, Langleigh had | reason to fear Ben Buckingham, or so he be- - jieved from what Sheriff Bunker had told him. - If Buckingham was ‘The Secret Service - Sleuth,” and the son of Robert Mainwaring, he : or reasons best known to Langleigh, a man to be dreaded. But what had this to do with his meeting with Imogene? She had no cause to fear Black- _ lock Ben, nor did she know of that old drama + connected with Granite Tower. What was there in the meetin - persons to so terrify iron-nerved Some call — ‘* Wait !— of these two elson Lang- leigh? _ Heslowly recovered his composure, and again » addressed the servant: _ Are you sure it was Imogene and Bucking- him?” ; be. am, sir.” _ “Did you overhear what was said?” _ Not a word, nor did they see me. I was not sure you would disapprove of it, and I did not | venture near.” | What of their manner? Was it light or _ earnest?” _ * Decidedly earnest, sir.” * Affectionate?” > > — **T think not.” __'** Tid you see the end of the interview?” ata toe’ INO, Sit.” / “Tf there are further particulars, I will glad- i? ly hear them.” “There is nothing more, sir.” | “Then youcan go, Abram, Stay! Take this | gold-piece; you are a faithful man, and I thank | you sincerely. If there is ever more to tell, - come tome. Now, go!” - Abram went. The moment the door closed ' behind him Langleigh sprung to his feet. By | the exercise of all his self-control he had man- = to remain calm outwardly, butevery nerve F seemed to rend its way through his flesh. ' “Death and destruction!” he hoarsely whis- red, ‘‘has it come to this? Ruin stares me in e face! That man is surely young Main- _ waring, and he must know all. He is drawing | the net about me, and unless I strike first, he » willsoon have me at his mercy. He must die at once; 1 will see Bob Bunker and bid him . make haste!” __ So saying he strode into the hall, donned his _ hat and wentout. How he found the sheriff we ' have seen, and he was soon talking with him at = ope Bae. He told what Abram had seen, and aris a oe tically added: _ “Bunker, that fellow must die!” » He shall!” the sheriff declared. | ‘Why don’t you strike at once?” - ‘] will strike at once.” . *Ton’t forget it. You are about as deep in _ the mire as I am, and Buckingham will bring us both to destruction if we give him the _ “Twenty-four hours later you kin count him Up asa one chicken. Ill put the boyees onter _ his track, an’he can’t git away with the whole onus. As you say, it’s ruin ter us ter let him live. He shall die, an’ that’s the end on it!” See CHAPTER XIII. wags WOULD-BE DEFENDERS. * Ben BuckinGHAM entered Yank Yellowbird’s - hut just.as the latter was preparing supper. “cle ag’in?” said the mountaineer, ‘* You've come jest in time ter nourish an’ cheer the inner | man, True, one ain’t got no fatted calf, but _ meno’ bone and muscle don’t keer much fur calf. T consait that the proper thing fur a man is beef, an’ beef that he’s got ter chaw egregi- _ ously ter make it fit fur swallerin’, This shows It’s strong, an’ strength is what we all need, by * _ : . . Ps: _ “Your ideas.are sound in the main,” answer- » ed the rover, as he put his rifle away. “To be sure. | Lhe, gy bring out the _ silver plate an’ finger-bow , an’ we'll hev a p ERY on have not yet delivered the f — ** You have not_ yet deliver e frying-pan We Miss Hannah Kitchen, I see.” Zithe | Yank presen looked earnestly at Ben, and . then slowly stroked pede 7 beard. _. “The fryin’-pan is still hyar,” he replied, — “but I dunno how long ’twill stay. I hev an —r—C<*¥XWC Oe a ded . Fee ‘ that I may hev ter buy Miss Kitchen off , the fryin’. ” «ees You forget that she wants you along with wh ea ~~ * ‘A _ yank shook his fore-finger reprovingly at the . wi SEES ER neeeeemeeieeeetiioe ee eee eee re Yank Yellowbird. ——— ee ee ‘Young man, you are disposed ter make light o’ my a’flictions. You don’t know what it is ter be beset by an old maid, but I do. I’ve fit Injuns o’ all nations, an’ white outlaws, an’ rizzly b’ars, an’ eat scatteratem, as they say in reek, but none o’ them is ter be compared ter an antique female bent on matrimony. Why does Miss Kitchen come ter me ter borrer fryin’-pans? Why does she wanf me ter change my name ter Canary? Don’t she know that te Yellowbirds is a time-honored family that kin trace their pedigreen back ter Adam an’ Eve? Why should she pester me in such an egregious way? Ain’t it enough that I should suffer with the newrol’gy, ‘thout hevin’ new a’flictions an’ triberlations ter bear?” The mountaineer was very much in earnest and his fore-finger waved constantly in front of Blacklock Ben, punctuating his remarks, as it were. ‘* But Miss Kitchen would be a valuable nurse when neuralgia afflicted you,” urged Ben, gravely. ‘Yas, but the remedy would be wuss than the disease. You can’t tell me nothin’ new about old maids; I’ve been the victim on ’em ever sence I’s born. It was my misfortune ter be an oncommon harn’some baby, an’ they took ter me right at the start. I never expect to git rid on ’em unless I lose my personal charms.” ‘Why not marry Hannah, and then defy the others?” ** Can't do it, nohow; I was born with antip- athies, an’ they will stick to me, Ef that woman comes hyar sD ter borrer a fryin’-pan I shall give the word ter my left foot ter run, an’ the faster the weak sister strikes out, the better 1 shall like it.” ‘* But why should you have such an antipathy to old maids? You and I are old bachelors. Ought we not to have a feeling of sympathy for the old maids?” ‘You may furnish the sympathy—an’ the the fryin’-pans,” gravely replied Yank, ‘* I don’t feel like it. At first view an old maid an’ an old bachelder might seem pooty much alike, but thar’s a heap o’ dif’rence when you come ter simmer it down. Old bachelders are meek, an’ humble, an’ lowly, an’ retirin’; they’re timid critters that couldn’t be bold an’ designin’ ef they tried. But old maids are a caution ter be- hold! They are schemers; that’s. what they be, an’ thar ain’t no safety while they’re ‘round. I’ve been awfully harassed by ’em, by hurley!” “You seem to have borne up well.” ‘‘ T'hat’s "cause the Yellowbirds are 0’ a natu- rally buoyant aatur’, Drop a Yellowbird any- whar, an’ he'll land on his feet like a cat. But thar’s one thing a Yellowbird won’t do, an’ that is ter change his name ter Canary. I ain’t no singin’-bird, an’ none 0’ my fam’ly ever was, ’ceptin’ one o’ my forefathers. He lifted up his voice in the wilderness an’ wept—all ’cause an old maid was arter him /” Yank stowed away an unusually large piece of meat, gave it a few turns in his jaws, and added: ‘‘T was born with antipathies, an’ they will stick to me!” ‘Speaking of the fairer sex,” said Bucking- ham, ‘‘ let me ask if you know an Indian girl named Zelda?” This was the first time he had mentioned to Yank the girl-he had encountered in the moun- tains, and be would not have done so now only for new and urgent reasons, The mountaineer suddenly ceased moving his jaws, and, with both cheeks stuffed out by the gonerwes slice of meat he had just then, stared lankly at Buckingham, ** What’s that?” he asked. ‘Do you know Zelda, the half-blood?” ‘* Seems ter me I hev seen sech a person ‘round hyar,” the mountaineer aera slowly. ‘* A decidedly pretty girl.” ‘‘ Wal, [ dunno; my taste don’t run ter Injun squaws.” ‘ Buckingham flushed; he felt offended at the term, though why he should do so he did not know. Zelda was nothing to him; she had the same as said so herself. ‘* At least, you are an honest man, Yank, and one who would not refuse to help the weak and friendless,” . **T consait that you are right.” ‘‘ Nevermiss, your aid is wanted now.” ‘“ Who by?” demanded the mountaineer, with unusual quickness of speech, ‘*To-night, while on my way to your hut, I overheard a few words spoken by some ruffians of the town. I arrived—unseen by them—just as they were breaking up, and there were only a few sentences which reached my ears. This, however, is what I overheard: There is some girl named Templeton against whom they have a grudge; she is ill in the hut of Zelda, the half- blood; and to-night, at twelve o’clock, these ruffians pro to secretly raid said hut and secure both girls. What their object is 1 won’t undertake to say, but it is significant that the declared both girls must be ‘silenced.’ That’s an ugly word, Yank,” The speaker had been watching the moun- taineer’s face as closely as the dim ight would allow, anxious to see whether he had right in hoping for his companion’s sympathy, ¥ my, 7 r ‘ ek : - ee. * (2% : — os a * * ‘ vat. "r:5 Aee be a4 ‘ We ee he ast ae Fe ind Sa 0" ov - “> i 8 It was now clear that Nevermiss was excited, enone to what degree was not certain. ‘‘Who was them atrocious insex?’ was the quick inquiry, and Yank’s vojce was sharp and stern, ‘“The honorable sheriff of the town, Bob Bunker, and some of his pet followers.” ‘‘ An’ they’re goin’ ter raid the hut an’ gobble the—the—some gals?” ‘‘ That is their plan.” i Yank smote his broad hand heavily upon his nee. ‘Tt won't work!” he exclaimed. ‘* The atro- cious insex has plotted in vain, fur there don’t no women critters get persecuted when J know on’t—not much, they don’t!” ‘‘ Bravo, Nevermiss! I felt sure that I could rely upon you, and that’s why I told you.” *You’ve done wal; you’ve done very wal; you’ve done most mighty wal, sir!” the veteran declared, ‘‘ Let them egregious varmints swoop down onter lone gals? Not much! Whar’s my rifle? Git ready fur the war-path at once, an” we’}]] wade in like hurley an’ make—” A whistle sounded from Trail-Lifter. Yank promptly turned toward the mute Modoc; the latter’s nimble fingers moved like a. flash; and then the rifle which the mountaineer had seized in an iron grasp slowly slip through his broad hand until the breech touched the grounc. Nevermiss had been excited—strangely excited for one of his cool nature, Buckingham thought —but he aed cool again in a few moments. ‘*The Modoc counsels moderation,” he ob- served, ‘‘an’ I reckon he’s about right. To be sure, he is. It ain’t midnight yet, an’ we needn't git inter a flurry. Keep cool, Ben, an’ let’s talk it over.” As the rover had shown no signs of excitement. a part of this advice seemed unnecessary, but ia set a good example by quickly sitting own. . He turned his gaze sharply upon Bucking am. ‘‘ Was this all you heard?” he asked. sc Yes. ” ‘“Why do them critters want ter molest the gals?” ‘‘T haven’t the slightest idea.” “Queer, ain’t it?” ‘Not so very strange, perhaps, when we con- sider what ruffians they are and how pretty Zelda is, She may have refused to marry one of them,” ‘* So you’ve see’d Zelda?” Ben hesitated; then replied: ‘‘T have. We met by chance in the moun- tains, and she did me a great favor. In fact, only for her I should very ikely have fallen the victim to a grizzly bear.’ ‘‘T spose you think you owe her a debt 0’ gratitude.” ‘““T do, indeed; but were it otherwise I should be ready to aid her now. Helpless woman . always has a claim on honest man, and [ am resolved that those ruffians shall not touch the girls while I live.” “Spoken like a hero, by hurley! Yowre a man arter my own heart, mister, an I’m glad chance threw us together. I admire a man that is ready ter. resk his life an’ limbs fur a woman in triberlation an’ distress. I’m 4 disciple o” beauty, myself, an’ I'll do ’most anything ter help sech, except ter lend my_fryin’-pan an? change my name ter Canary. I can’t do that fur though thar is a heap o’ feathered cana) ies in the world, my world, my own pedigreen would only run k ter my Own gineration, an’ ’twould make me an orphin ever since I was born—yes, by hurley, an’ before that too!” Yank stroked his beard meditatively and was silent for some time, after which he added: ‘“Give me time! This is an egregious fix, an’ as the sheriff an’ other dignitaries is ag’in’ us, we've got ter use stratagem ter outwit the atro- cious insex. Let me roominate, an’ Pll fix it,” Trail-Lifter uttered his peculiar whistle, and once more the mountaineer quickly looked that. way. Moskingtht was more than ever convinced that the mute Modoc was a remarkabie person, and he had begun to wish that he could read that. | silent language. All was unintelligible to him, however. Rapidly the dusky fingers crossed and recross- ed for a few seconds, and then Yank nodded ag nic ae ‘*] reckon you’re right, Still Tongue, an’ we'll move at once. Come, Blacklock en, we'll go down ter the half-blood’s hut an’ give the Buckingham was glad to get the word, and the three men Brompey prepared for work. Each went well armed, and all looked well to their weapons. Blacklock Ben had a vague idea that there was more ahead of them than to warn Zelda—indeed, he would not hear of leaving her unprotected—but he waited patiently to learn Yank’s plans, they passed out of the The latter turned as door. ‘* Ben,” he said, gravely, ‘‘I wish you’d keep an eye on my le& foot, an’ ef ye see any sign 0” the weak sister gittin’ skeered, an’ runnin’ away, jest hit it a crack with yer ramrod. I ain’t sure | Ss Comicboo Vale 2 > b $, x 3. ye aA? a - s be eel - eae a ——— ' :