Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 461 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

ee “True as preachin’! It was my horn you p oi | heered a-blowin’ that time!” es *“ What is the trouble?” ae “This is a lively town?” ie ** Yes, it certainly has that appearance.” ‘* Nice day, sir,” observed the Fresh, with an “ISN idea of cultivating the acquaintance of the odd- ‘a Jooking man. ful shake of the head. took a chair by his side. * Stranger, it ar’ a nice day, but I don’t bank on it for a cent!” the other replied with a dole- ** Is that so?” A; This was true enough, for the plaza was full of people, and all the shops—particularly the _ gambling dens—seemed to be doing an excellent ness. hod “‘ Stranger, this ar’ El Paso is the whited o 4 ulcher that I onc’t heered the Gospel sharp ta about!” remarked the other in a very solemn way. ‘You don’t mean it?” ‘I am giving it to you as square as a die!” **Then I infer that the town hasn't treated you just right?’ : ‘They have picked me, young pard, *bout as _ @lean as though I wasa chicken getting read for to be roasted!” hy meg the other with a mel- _ ancholy shake of the head. 7 t- ** Well, that ain’t the square thing, is it?” ~ “Not much it ain’t!” oxclaimed the stranger, decidedly. | “This is the first time in years that I have been down in this country, and the town has _ ehanged mightily. j “{'m no tenderfoot, you know, but an old rustler, and ’bout as tough as they make ’em. Many a year have I roughed it up and down ‘these western wilds, Why, it was solong ago when I came out _hyer that the Rio Grande was nothing but a brook then andit has growed up since into a Ziver!” | - 4 Yes) yes, I see,” responded Blake, sym- ‘pathetically swallowing the yarn without a pro- ; “a * a -% om - ne & ‘* are - te ‘ (& $ _ ** And to think that an old sodger like myself _ should come into El Paso, git full’n a goat on their durned Mexican winsky, and then go to banking a game and git cleaned out of oll m wealth, and my we'pons, and everything wort having—a rustler like myself, who has hoofed Gt from the Mississippi to the land of Sundown— _ ane. old Calif’orny Joe!” <>. cG ° - , ore CHAPTER X. Ree THE STORY OF ESCOBEDO. ‘tHE name of the stranger was perfectly fa- - giliar to the sport. Old California Joe was one of the best known men on the border. . As ascout and mountain-man he stood second to none of the p.oneers of the West, with the pos- gible exception of Kit Carson. The Fresh was - glad that the chance of fortune had brought him contact with such a man, - _He was in need of just such a pard. Fortune decidedly was standing his friend, for _ the fact that the old mountain-man had been cleaned out by the El Paso sharpers would be - apt to make him willing to join company with any man who had a scheme on hand which re- gl the assistance of such a genius as him- ee “me pe Joe, eh?” our hero ges one ig ate oo inga at his companion, ‘* well, | have often aed of you, and I am right giad to have the pleasure of making your acquaintance, par: _ ticularly asI hail from the Pacific Slope my- one 2. and the sport extended his hand which was _ at once warmly grasped by the other. — ** You don’t say so!” the old mountain-man * Wa-al, now, durn my old gizzard if I ain’t as glad to meet a man from Californy as an ole 5 “A 4, ‘ 4s ; : : rm j a, 7 [A\. 2 & -. ™» = - _. oF a - bmg OS. | ahead,” the sport replied, carelessly, as though he did not consider it becoming to boast of his abilities in this line. ‘*Do you s’pose you kin skin some of these wolves that hev their dens byer in El Paso?” ‘** I can’t really say about that, you know, un- til I get a chance to see how big the woives are. If they are only common, ordinary cattle, I can generally beat them at theirown game, and | don’t care how finely they work it. If itis an Pe wolf—a regular big chief—away up at the top of the heap—I might not be able todo the trick. ‘** Oh, [ reckon these are jest common sharps, although they skinned me almost bar’ to the bone,’ but then, if [ hadn’t h’isted "bout ‘nuff benzine to float a ship, I don’t think they could have worked the game so slick.” “They seem to have got away with about all you have,” remarked the Fresh, with a glance at the empty belt of the scout. ‘* 1 see that even your weapons are gone.” ** Yes, like the biggest kind of a durned fool, I went and blew them in arter my money give out. ‘“Pard, I was socrazy for gambling that I r‘ally believe I would have fired this old buck- skin suit of mine in if I had had any other rags to put on.” Oh, I don’t doubt that they would have taken it,” the Fresh remarked. ‘*Such sharps as you evidently fellin with, would take anything.” ‘*Ob, no, you are wrong thar,” the other re- pees ‘* These fellows pretend to be terribly iigh-toned, and arter I blew im my money and wanted to put up my watch and chain, and some trinkets I had, they allowed that they didn’t keep no pawnbroker’s shop and told me to go "round the corner to old Solomons’s she- bang.” The Fresh pricked up his ears, metaphorically speaking, at this. ‘‘ Hadad Solomons, the old Jew?” ‘Yes, that is the identical cuss, and a tough ole rooster he is; I know him of old; I knew ig years ago when he used to hold out in Santa e “ A hard case, eh?” ‘You bet! e had to dust out of Santa Fe right lively—’tween two days, to use the old me I ‘He got in trouble, then?” **Oh, a heap! He wasn’t as keerful *bout bu ying things as he migbt be. “He never troubled himself to ax any ques- tions when ary galoots brought plunder into his shebang; it was all the same to him whetber it was honestly their own or whether they stole it. ‘Things got so bad at last that the citizens couldn't stand it, and they jest got right up on their ears, and were going to treat the old Jew toadance upon nothin’ with a rope ’round his neck to keep him up, but he got wind of the pic- nic and vamosed the ranch afore the citizens got good and ready.” “| su fo he is the same old sixpence down here in El Paso?” ‘*Oh, yes, he won’t ax any questions, and he won’t give nowhar near the value of the things,” the ol ut replied. “Why, to give you an idee—on my barkers, a pair of Colt’s navy, as fine tools as a man ever handled—cost me a fifty spot six months ago in Albuquerque--all the ole scoundrel would allow was ten dollars, and it is going to cost me fifteen if | redeem them within a montb and an increase of five dollars a month after that.” ** Well, I call that pretty steep.” ‘Yes, I reckon the old cuss must be pulling in the money by the cart-load,” **T am sorry to hear that he is such askinflint, for I expect to have a little business with him myself.’ ‘* You want to keep your eyes open or he will skin you clear to the bone,” ae > rae . e “;. a fre . ‘ 4( +3 Se =y ‘ Vea b a», tel s Ed i Ne “* et. Lit’? Aaa we M -_ % ~~ ed z al, sees a + : « : ‘2 e : Ss ‘wets % tere NE 8 ea) FO EOE eee . wa BK "i tin <= oe. o oa) x; 2 G « ‘e- 2 he 7 Di ile ~< $* re pest : eae The Fresh on the Rio Grande. es . directions, as if it disdained to yield to the influ- | he-b’ar would be to run up ag’in’ a holler tree ‘* ll look out for him,” and at this pointit oc- a ence of brush and comb. . chock-full of honey !” curred to the Fresh that perhaps his companion | A scrubby beard covered the man’s chin And he shook the hand of the other with true | would be able to afford him the information of growing thin and wiry as though it lacked | Western heartiness, which he was in search, and so he immediately nutriment. ‘* My name is Jackson Blake; [ am something | proceeded to question him. He was dressed in a complete suit of buckskin, | of a sport, and being of a rather impulsive na- ‘*By the way are you much acquainted with decidedly the worse for wear, and the Fresh who | ture bear the nckname of the Fresh of ’Frisco!” | the people in this me ees a was a good judge of character, at once set him ‘You don’t mean it?’ cried the old trapper, ‘*T reckon Iam. _ It used to be my old stamp- down for an old mountain man “ playing in | gazing with great interest in the face of the | ing ground. I lived down the river a piece for hard luck.” other. five years, I was with one of the biggest cattle- One particularly odd thing about the man “That’s my handle, and I judge from your | raisers that there was in this part of the the keen-eyed sport noticed at the first glance, | face that you have heard of me.” country; mighty wise man he was too—as lon and that was, the new-comer wore no weapons. ‘You kin bet yer bottom dollar I hev, al- | asT live I shall never forget him. He’s pe, Pig | At the time of which we write, almost every- | though I never happened to run up ag’in’ you | and gone now; I didn’t know it, or you kin bet A body on the frontier went armed, and to see a | afore, your bottom dollar I wouldn’t have booked for scout, or an old mountain man without his ‘* But a lot of my pards knew ye, and one, and | this town. ; weapons boldly displayed, was an extremely | all of ’em, allers said that for a fellow who got ‘I was calculating to git a job from him ee) rare sight. his living by being a sporting sharp you was the | ag’in or else I wouldn’t have come this way. b The weapon belt, supporting the holsters from | squarest white man that ever stepped foot on ‘*He wasn’t no common Mexican—no durned + which the butt of the revolvers protruded, and | this solid airth!” Greaser, but a high-toned Spaniard—as fine a with the keen-edged bowie shoved through it, “Tam glad to hear that my reputation is so | gen’leman as I ever met was that same Estevan was as much a part of the “‘ outfit” as the hunt- | good,” Escobedo!” 4e; ing-shirt itself. ‘‘And you areasport from Sportville, hey?” It was hard work for the Fresh to refrain A he stranger wore the belt all right, but the | queried the old mountain-man in an eager way. | from showing his surprise at the unexpected A? holsters were empty and the buck-horn handle **So I have been tola.” utterance of the name. pel of the bowie knife ‘‘ was conspicuous by its ‘* And you kin hold yer own ag’in’ any of these ‘** Decidedly the blind goddess, Dame Fortune, rar absence,” to use an [rish bull. wolves who run a brace game and ring in a cold | is standing my friend,” the sport mused to him- oa The new-comer took a look at the sport as if | deal whenever they git a chance?” self as the old plainsman allowed his head to ¥stg he was going through the poe of “sizing ‘* Well, [have always succeeded in doing so, | sink upon his breast, the memories of the past * him up,” and then, with a nod anda ‘*‘ how-d’y,” | and, maybe, as a rule, I come out a leetle | coming back to him. ‘Here is a man who can tell me all about the Escobedo family, havin the Escobedo household, luck!” ‘Yes, yes, he was a migbty fine man, Senor Estevan!” California Joe declared, rousing him- self from his abstraction. ‘‘ He was the cattle-king of the Rio Grande, and was reckoned to be one of the richest men in the province of Chihuahua. ‘You have excited my interest, for there was a couple of ladies in the stage, in which I came, by the name of Escobedo.” “Oh, thar’s a hull raft of them—distant rela- ee of the cattle-king, but he only had one al. ‘*A tall beautiful girt with dark hair and eyes, Isabel by name? **Oh, no, that’s the gal of another stock, third or fourth cousins, or something of that sort,” the other replied, ‘*T know the gal you speak of—she’s got a brother, Manuel, one of the wildest young devils in all Mexico, ‘*Both of them were brought up by the old cattle-king, and, I reckon, that at one time they thought the old man would leave them some- thing handsome when he kicked the bucket, but they were disappointed, so the folks told me, ‘cos the old man left all his property to his darter in the East. ‘“ Thar’s a bit of a yarn ’bout Senor Estevan’s wife and darter,” explained the old scout. ‘‘ He married a Yankee gal that he met onc’t when he was on an eastern trip, and after she got out hyer, she was lonesome and homesick. ‘‘The Don was a mighty quick-tempered cuss and he didn’t like it. She was a poor gal an he thought she ought to be glad t) bave sich a home as he gave her, so they kinder quarreled, and, at last, when the little gal who had come of the marriage was about five years old, the mother lit out for the old home with the darter. ‘*The Don was too mighty proud to try for to git them back, but sent his wife word that when she had s'arved long enuff to cure her of her folly she could come back, ‘But the gal was plucky, and she didn’t starve. She stuck it out till the old man died and all his folks were glad, for they reckoned they would come in for a slice of the big property; but, at the last moment, the old man made a will, leaving everything to his darter, and fixed the thing all up with the lawyers, so that she won’t have any trouble in getting the wes.” S ‘*The Don only died *bout a month ago, so when I struck the town 1 got the story right fresh.” ‘* What is the daughter’s name?” ** Margaret.” “Oho! Why, that was the name of the other girl in the coach, but there wasn’t any mother with ber,” And then the Fresh related to his companion all that had occurred from the time he went into the stage-ranch at Las Cruces to get a place in the coach, until he arrived at El Paso, not omit- ting to detail his suspicions. , ‘“That gal was the old Don’s heir,” California Joe declared, ‘‘And you are right, by hookey! Thar’s foul play afoot!” been an inmate of ecidedly I am in CHAPTER XI. THE PAWNBROKER, Tuer Fresh was glad to have his suspicions confirmed by so expert a judge as the old lainsman, and he resolved to speak plainly to im, ‘*As you see, I have, just by acciden mixed up in this matter, and, bein so tres, you know, have made up my mind to see the hing through, | a ie! LL . | com ” ’ - ~*~ | ~~ oe A A — ' a > ———_- ee ee ae niles . . * ~~ ™ - —_7we 3 ~ < Ps ne a enianeeen She =: =a Tae ‘ he PR pen ‘ % * <