Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 472 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

8 Six-Foot Si. ‘* Waal, ef we don’t fill that requisition, itll How came it that Joe Moran got on with her be because we don’t know how!” *“*T hope you'll stick to that, boss, an’ ef you kin do it better by givin’ me the lie, I ain't a-squeelin’, you bet!” he dialogue had lost all savor of banter or carelessness. Both men had become seriously in earnest, Beneath his rough exterior, Johnny o’ Jim- son’s had the sentiments of a gentleman, and the advent of a lady worthy of the name had appealed to the better instincts of Dandy Dave’s perverted nature. “ Nowhere in the world does true womanhood command readier recognition than among even the roughest of the men who make these moun- tain mining-camps anything but silvan para- dises Nowhere is the presence of a lady more potent to check the play of wild passions, and constrain at least a decency of outward observ- ance, so that all moral ugliness may be hidden from her eye, ‘** Boys,” said Dandy Dave, * it don’t stand to reason as we kin turn this hyar camp intoa halleluiah band with a twist o’ the wrist, an’ keep up to high-water mark for any length o’ time. Thar’s bound to be sights an’ sounds as ain’t fitten fur a lady to see an’ hyear. I don’t expect, nothin’ akan ii out 0° you, though I do eG to hold you to the rack in a way what'll make your hair curl—you hyear me! So the lady can’t put up at the Buckin’ Burro, nohow. ** What air we to do with her, then? Why, we're to settle her in a shanty, all quiet an’ se- cluded by herself. Thar’s your shanty, Jarsey, what’s made to our hand. It stands off by it- self, at the fur end o’ the camp, almost out o’ sight an’ hearin’ of ary leetle racket we may have hyar at the Buckim’ Burro, ef we don’t crack it too loud. “We'll git Tom to tell her as that’s to rent cheap, an’ she kin have her meals took to her, alla heap sight more comfortable than ef she stopped at the Buckin’ Burro, **You run an’snake your togs out o’ thar quicker’n you ever done ary thing in yer life, an’ make the place look as if it was waitin’ fur a tenant.” To this unceremonious order to vacate Jarsey offered not the slightest opposition. On the contrary, he considered himself the recipient of quite an honor, as was attested by his hearty: ** Don’t say a word, boss!” _ And away he went, with a hop, skip, and jump. So that night Beth was domiciled to the satis- faction of every one concerned. What would the men who were laying them- selves out so extensively to hoodwink her have thought, had they known that before she slept she registered anew a vow of vengeance as bloodthirsty as any of their own? “Tl kill him! But I must entrap him first. I shall defeat the whole of his infamous pur- pose? CHAPTER VIII. SPREADING THE SNARE, No lady ever conducted herself more quietly, or with more perfect propriety in every respect, than did Beth Crawford. It was not that she stood on ceremony with the men of Bloody Run. On the contrary ber manners were charmingly ' free from nyt Nothing could be more engaging than the smile she returned to the Pegeanaly respect- Mie bow with which they doffed their hats to er. Nothing could be franker than the freedom with which she spoke to any of them, when the occasion called for it. Nothing could be more truly womanly than the serene politeness with which she thanked them and passed on, when they had answered her questions, There was not a man Jack of them who dreamed of presuming upon her friendliness. She had the air of expecting the utmost con- sideration, and taking it for granted that it was necessary to make a stranger of no one, and the most reckless or brutal had not the hardihood to disappoint this confidence. “Ye hyear me, gents?” cried Dandy Dave, in a moment of exuberant enthusiasm, just after she te pa-sed a crowd as deferential as she would ve met in any drawing-room, ‘“‘ ve ranged the States from end to end, an’ blow me tight ef tbar’s her match as stands in shoe-leather be- twixt the two oceans!” To be sure, the ** ladies” with whom he had been best acquainted were such as a man of a little different breeding would scarcely have thought of putting in competition with Beth Crawford. However, the boys thought that Dandy Dave was a very fine-gentleman, and that what he didn’t know about the fashionable world would make a mighty small book, His unqualified indorsement of Beth was, therefore, taken as a settlement of the matter, quite in accordance with the views of every one present. better than any one else? The boys were disposed to resent this a little. They felt that she ought to take up with the representative men of the place. ‘“What’s the matter with Dandy Dave?” queried one of their number, ‘Sam Sutter can’t hold a candle to him, nohow—which ain’t sayin’ but what he’s a mighty good man in his way.’ ‘*He don’t dress with Dave; he can’t chin with him; an’ he ain’t got the style about bim,” added another. ‘‘ Then he’s a new-comer,” suggested a third. ‘‘ The camp’s jest a-layin’ of itself out fur her. She’d orter recipercate,” ‘Look a-hyar, Dave,” said one of those friends who do more to imbitter a man’s life than half a dozen enemies, “ ain’t you a-lettin’ of an outsider take the inside track on ye?” ‘‘What air you chinnin’ about?’ demanded Dave, with an irritation which showed that he knew well enough what was alluded to, ‘t Why, this hyar clipper-built—” ‘*Hold on, Bill,” interposed a_ bystander. ‘¢ That’s about enough o’ that.” ** What's the row with you?” ‘* You want to draw that mild—that’s all.” ‘‘ Mebbe you don’t like what I’ve got to say.” **T don’t like your way o’ sayin’ it; an’ what’s more, I reckon you'll have to climb over about every man in this camp before you git much further on that tack.” ‘*That’s what’s the matter!” was the ready confirmation of another, Aud by looks, if not in every case by verbal expression, the sentiment received general in- dorsement. ‘* Waal,” pursued Bill, yielding to this pres- sure, ** I was allowin’ as this hyar Sam Sutter— what ye may call—was a-shinin’ up to the lady mighty peart fur an outsider, when thar’s an ole stan’-by what the boys is all backin’ every time, an’ what’s a better man than he ever da’st to be, right under her nose.” This was a sugar-coated pill, but it tasted bit- ter enough, for all that, to Dandy Dave. What was it to have the ‘*‘ backin”’ of the boys, if the lady did not concur in their good opinion? ‘* Why, blast your hide!” he cried, roughly, ** ain't she got the right to pick an’ choose to her likin’?” ‘* Waal, I reckon she has,” was the dry re- sponse, And the speaker thrust bis hands into his pockets, and walked off with an air which said that he could stand it if Dandy Dave himself was content. But Dandy Dave had already put the matter to himself in very much the same light. He had a ner good opinion of his personal qualities, and that he was the kind of aman that a lady of taste and discernment ought to cotton to. Certainly he could “shine,” any day, with Joe Moran. But he had spoken more wisely than he really knew, when he intimated that the matter had rested entirely with the lady’s preference. By the subtlest shade of difference in her man- ner, Beth bad attracted the one man to her, and held the other—not at arm’s length, but at just that delicate poise where, while he had nothing to complain of, there was not the shadow of a ground on which to base a claim to interfere with the better success of another. Not that Beth had given Joe any marked sign of favor. On the contrary he thought less of his position in her esteem than the others did. If she stood and talked with him longer than with Dandy Dave or Old-man Crocker, it was probably because the subject up happened to be one on which he could give her more informa- tion. Once he had walked at her side for a distance of perhaps a quarter of a mile, parting with her at her door, under the eye of not a few who re- garded him enviously. But it had come about in the most accidental way, the furthest possible from a formal tender and acceptance of escort duty. He had overtaken her approaching the camp, and would have bowed to her and passed on, but that, in her frank way, she had showed him a specimen which she had picked up among the cree and asked bis opinion of it. The specimen was of no value, being only a mica formation, known as “ fool’s gold,” which deceived not a fewinthe early days of gold- hunting. But the condemnation of the specimen led to an explanation, and the explanation to a some- what general discussicn, and as their way was the same, it could not well have been otherwise shan that they should continue it in company. At the door of her shanty she thanked him with the same affability with which she had re- paid Bummer Boggs. This Bummer Boggs was a new man in the camp. Indeed, bis arrival ye been two or three days later than Beth’s own. But, of course, no one was surprised that she did not seem to distinguish him from the rest. She We shall hear more of him presently. Returning to Joe Moran, Beth had charmed him from the first, yet there was a subtle some- thing about her that held him more in awe of her than it did Dandy Dave. While contending for the precious crypto- am, Moran had not heard of the arrival of ob Cady’s sweetheart. By deserting the men who helped him gain it, he cut himself off from the chance of learning through them what they soon afterward discovered. And, as he was passing incognito in Bloody Run, no one alluded, in his presence, to the matter, which was common report, all taking it for granted that he knew about it. But no one suspected that the engaging Miss Falmouth, who was stopping at Bloody Run for her health, was this same Beth Crawford, of whose terrible aspect of stony despair nothing was lost by rumor. Least of all did Joe Moran guess the trap into which he was walking blindly. The same meddler who bad irritated Dandy Dave infused into Joe Moran’s veins the one drop of liquid fire which was needed to swee him over the barrier which his extreme diffi- dence might have found insurmountable for a much longer time. ‘* Pardner,” observed Bill, with an insinuating drawl, ‘‘ you’re an old broad-horn, ain’t you, now?” ‘“Bh” asked Moran, not apprehending the allusion. ‘Oh, come off! Dye ‘low as we sports peeled onions fur peepers? But, say!—ef you don’t care to git Dandy Dave in your wool, takea fool’s advice an’ drop it.” ‘What air you a-givin’ of us, anyway?” de- manded Moran, turning full upon the enigmati- cal William. ‘*Pm "lowin’ as Dane? Dave knows the p’ints of a likely heifer as well as any other man, an’ ef he hain’t called you so fur, it’s because he reckons he ain’t got nary dirty leetle pair in bis hand. But he may have itin him to bluff yit, ef it’s his only show. Eh! how’s that? It costs ye nothin’. Maybe it ain’t worth nothin’, Ta- ta! Call ag’in!” And bowing in mock suavity of leave-taking, Bill walked away, leaving Joe Moran to stare after him with an entirely new train of thoughts chasing one another pell-mell through his brain. Was it possible that his relations with Miss Falmouth were a theme of camp gossip? Had it gone so far that Dandy Dave was actually jeal- ous, and that the others believed that he was a favored man? ‘‘ And why aot?’ he demanded of himself, with a wild | age of the heart, while a stream of liquid fire seemed to thread his veins to his utmost extremities, filling him witb a fine ting- ling sensation, as if he had struck a nerve. ‘“ Dandy Dave!” he repeated, his nostrils dilating, and his eyes glowing with intense scorn. He had no difficulty in seeing that Dandy Dave was not the man to mate with such a wo- man as Beth Crawford. His own unfitness quite escaped him. But then, if the lady really looked upon him with favor, was not her election decisive of that point? 2 As for Dandy Dave's ‘‘ kicking,” Joe Moran was not to be bluffed out of any advantage that was his. From that moment he began to think of Beth Crawford as a possible possession, ‘‘An’ef this hyar pans out the bonanza Bob lowed it was,” he mused, passing his hand over the cryptogram which he carried securely hid- den in his clothes, ‘‘ what’s the reason I couldn’t cut this hyar country, an’ be somebody along o’ the nobs an’ nabobs? But money won’t do it all. A man’s got to sport an establishment. Then whar’d I git anybody to bold over Miss Falmouth, hyar? With an Al rag-out, she’d be a swell along o’ the best of ’em.” He recalled instances, known to ables f of men who, starting with scarcely his personal ad- vantages, had acquired sudden wealth, married women of refinement, and taken place in the ranks of the most ostentatious, if not the best society, to ‘‘ hobnob with nabobs,” as he put it, and at any rate to be surfeited with newspaper adulation, And now the precious cryptogram, to gain which he had perpetrated the most infamous act known to the Western code of morals, acquired a new value in his eyes, : Thus far, the utmost stretch of his ambition had been to become a leader among sporting men, and runacamp, as Dandy Dave was do- ing. But what was this compared with gaining admittance to the charmed circle of the money- kings of New York and the nobility of the Old World? It was not difficult to make the opportuni for another walk with Miss Falmouth, which should appear to be quite accidental, as the pre- | vious one had really been, — At almost any time in the day she might be found wanderiug about somewhere among the _ ee a LS eee . * SG Sc Even Old-man Crocker warmed up. sought information of him just as she addressed | crags in the vicinity of the camp, picking up gale “* She’s fit to be a queen, an’ that’s what’s the | any of them—when he happened to be the near- | curious specimens of rock, or flowers, or mos Re matter with her!” he declared, est at hand, | or anything that happened to strike her fancy, ir