Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 488 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

« Pe *.s e —* _ cisive little nod of her shapely head. 26 —— forcing a laugh as she looked squarely into the speaker’s dark face. ‘‘ He would, but I didn’t dare let him, hot- head! Come—let’s get down to a sober level, and talk it over in a purely business way.” With a playful push she sent Matson back to the bed, following him, and seating herself by his side, a motion of her hand bidding Varley occupy the single chair which the chamber could boast,. Then, with her little hands toying as though unconsciously with the sinewy right hand of their intended dupe, Queen Esther hurriedly outlined the fresh peril which had so unexpectedly confronted them brta few minutes earlier. **'You know what sort of metal he is made of, Bark, You can guess how much trouble he can give us, even if all he swore to—about his proof, and his witnesses, you understand !—is a lie!” * And you were here, Varley?” with just the shadow of a sneer in his tones, though it glowed plainly enough in his dark eyes. The gambler quietly nodded toward the woman. ‘Yes, it was my say-so, Matson,” With a de- ac Any such row just now, and in here, would be tou risky. ‘* You’d ought to see as much for your- self, man!” ‘*And you want me to bounce the fellow, of course?” ‘** Because you can do it without any one sus- pecting the truth. You can pick a quarrel with him, and no one will dream of connecting it with our little game. I doubtif the fellow will himself. You can let him know that you’re getting even for bis Llow the other night.” *T dare say I could, but—well, play [’m working for wages,” be said, his tones harden- ing, his dark eyes fairly flashing with poorly concealed passions, ‘‘ Pay me my price, and Pll wipe him out, too clean,” “T don’t—I hardly think I understand your meaning, Bark?” He made a swift gesture toward Judd Varley as he added: ‘* What are your lover?” A brief, amazed stare with widely-opened eyes. Then a low, amused laugh parting her red lips as she flashed a glance into the white, set countenance of the tall gambler before re- pl te ‘Jf there was more time to waste, my dear fellow, ’'d read you a sharp lesson on common politeness, but as it is—no, sir; Judd Varley is not a lover of mine, Judd Varley is simply a partner in this little speculation of ours. And when the boodle is fairly collared, I expect to give him the grip of good-fellowship, and never see his face again. Unless, of course, another rare chance should turn up, But—what has all this got to do with your saying yes or notoa simple question?” ** You know the answer before it crosses my lips,” was the swift retort, ‘‘ You know that love you—that I want you to marry me.” _ Something like a scorn curled her red lips as she cried: ** And you’re trying to buy my consent? Is that it, Matson?” “Call it that if you like,” with a cold dogged- ness which left no room for doubting the stern resolve he had taken. ‘‘ Unless I can win you, all else is worse than age in my sight. The hoodle may go—l’ve lost all hankering after that, since [ve learned to know and love you. Give me a show—say that when all is won you will marry me—and IT do aaa and every- thing you can ask ore "ll follow up this thoroughbred, as he c bimself, and you to him, and he to you? Is he ut him - under the daisies, Ill work night and day until or? . z ~ wan woman!” you have collared the boodle for good. There’s naught you can ask which I will refuse or flinch from, if—if you will pass your word that hits oe my wife when this game is fairly played ou Queen Esther analy, blushed, her dark eyes slowly sinking before his burning gaze. She dropped his hand with sudden shyness, but it seemed more because Judd Varley was quietly looking on than through anger at his presump- tion, And her blush grew deeper as Varley said: ‘*Never mind me, Queenie. If you can stand the racket—” “ How can I help myself?’ with a shy, half- laughing gene into Matson’s face. ‘“ All I ob- ject to is being Bea into doing what—” “You a You— That settles it, little thalaugh. Ill turn this Heart o’ Oak toes up before another sunrise!” CHAPTER XXXII, A QUARREL SOUGHT AND FOUND. BaRK MATSON was in jubilant earnest when gave that pledge to the woman whom he ted to make his wife, but when he came to = a it into execution, he found he had calcu- a ee we, A ae ted without his host. _. In vain he from place to place, search- _ ing everys Ss e, _ and over < es for the "Thoroughbred S m and li building in Silver and recrossing his own trail over the entire night in dunting rt. Hither Hart Oakes had immediately left town after parting MS: See ee = The Thoroughbred Sport. { Matson, as he strode along the counter and with the plotters, or he was lying in very close hiding. He managed to keep his fellow-plotters posted as to his lack of success, through no fault of his own. He had his spies on the alert, with strict orders to at once bring him word in case the stranger sport should turn up during the course of the day, and, after another secret consulta- tion with Judd Varley—natural enough, after all, since they were supposed to represent dif- ferent sides of the Big Bracer question, and had to decide on a third party to assist them in ad- ministering the estate—he issued fresh instruc- tions to his men. They were to let it leak out, as through acci- dent, that there “*was blood on the moon,” thanks to a bit of side-work which a “ too fresh ” pilgrim got in on the night of Gypsy Gale’s flicht from the rope. ** It didn’t count fer so much, jest then, as we he hed bigger gamein the box, ye see,” confi- dentially explained one of his agents to a select company of citizens, ‘* We was lookin’ to cut off the Big Bracer, you wantto know. An’ we hit onto this durn critter, an’ wanted to know what-all he was moseyin’ ’round so loose in the dark, An’—waal, they was a hasty puddin’ right then an’ thar, as you’ve ketched wind of, I reckon! ‘* Ben Hurley An’—but you reckon!” ** He'll never show up, after that. And yet— counting it all in, and looking at the business square—lI don’t see that we can throw any very hefty blame on the fellow! I reckon he thought he was fizhting for bis sweet life, when Break- neck Ben tackled him!” ‘* Waal, you see, it-ain’t jest that, come to whiddle ’er toa sharp p’int, pardner,” grinned the fellow, whispering hoarsely: ‘* The critter made out to tum’le Bark Matson over—the clean- est knock-out lick I ever see! An’—waal, don’t you let on, pardner, but—keep the two eyes 0’ you all both open, an’ ef the sport does show up in Silver Lode, bet your sweet life thar’s gwine fer to be a he-ole circus!” Thus it was that, long before noon, every man in Silver Lode was watching for a stranger sport, and confident that he would at once be notified, and that he could pick a fight with the man whom he had sworn to kill, without giving rise to suspicions which might endanger the perilous game they were playing, Bark Matson sought the sleep he sorely needed, If nothing else, he felt that he ought to bein perfect trim when he ‘‘ tackled ” the fellow who had so easily ** knocked him out!” It was not until pretty well along in the after- noon that word of warning reached him, but when his sound slumbers were broken, Matson cut _ time to waste in getting ready for stern work, Both Queen Esther and Judd Varley had care- fully impressed upon him the strict necessity for making it a personal affair, On no account must he permit it to be suspected that Gyps Gale’s affairs bad aught to do with the quarrel. And, if possible, he must hinder even Hart Oakes from thinking that his enforced allies had turned upon him, “Tt will be a ticklish job, but I reckon I can carry it out,” he muttered to himself as he look ed at his weapons, carefully selecting the car- tridges with which he ed each chamber, making sure his hidden knife was handy, and easy to snatch from its sheath. ‘‘ Only for that —it would be too easy!” The report carried to Bark Matson was true enough. Justa little past the middle of the af- ternoon, Hart Oakes at in at Fatty Wells’s Alhambra: until he actu crossed the thres- hold, unseen or unrecognized by any of the many who were keeping a lookout for bis advent. He was still in the saloon when Bark Matson entered the door, followed by a curious little assembly, and his cool blue eyes at once fixed on the tall fellow, whose naturally dark eyes look- ed all the darker now for the discolored halo surrounding them. ‘* Hand-painted, and by a clever artist, don’t ou think, pardner?’ be softly murmured to atty Wells, with whom he was lazily con- versing when the party entered the saloon. ** Look out—he’s on the war path, big!” hur- riedly whispered the kind-hearted keeper, with a swift glance to make sure his favorite shot- gun was in its accustomed position, ‘‘ Even- ing, > emg ‘How, Fatty!” yawned Matson, his discol- ored eyes passing coldly overthe figure of the cool sport who stood at the further end of the bar, bis back toward the now deserted gaming- room, his face toward the front of the saloon. It’s ere enough to see you wasn’t out in the hills night! You’re blooming as a red, red rose! Give mea nail. And poison the gentle- oy, if they ever indulge at this hour of the got his neck broke all to pieces! in count up all the rest, I ~% ** Business—couldn’t do any good out there, if I wanted to, everso bad—slip into the fu’st crack I come to, you know!” chuckled. the jolly host, deftly slinging glasses along the polished coun- ter, in his haste failing to note that one of these was supplied Hart Oakes. “*T said gentlemeh. Fatty!” harshly uttered rudely caught up the glass from before Oakes, using his left hand for the action, The thoroughbred saw it all in an instant, but he never ‘‘ turned a hair,” never lost his easy. balf-sleepy smile as his big blue eyes watched the tall fellow. He saw, what all others saw: that Matson pripped the heavy glass in readiness to dush if full into his face at the ghost of an excuse; that his right hand was partly hidden from sight, but just as plainly grasping the butt of a } istol, ready to take a snap-shot instanter. But he never changed his position in the slightest, and that was apparently the most awkward one he could have assumed when fire- arms were likely to be called into play, His left side was touching the counter, on which his left elbow lightly rested, his fingers of that hand lazily turning a freshly-lighted cigar between his lips. His right hand rested akimbo on his hip, but bis light sack coat was thrown open far enough for all to see that no weapon lay within easy reach of that hand, if, indeed, he was armed at all. Certain it is that none of those sharp eyes could detect the pres- ence of knife or pistol. Bark Matson took all this in at a glance, and the scowl deepened on his bruised and dis- colored face. here was an unwritten code of honor which even be dared not wantonly vio- late, and he felt that his task would be far easier had this cool sport worn bis weapons in open sight. For, of course, the fellow must be armed! ““T asked gentlemen to join me, Fatty!” re- peated Matson, pointing his words still more plainly, still in readiness to dash the glass into that lazily smiling face at the faintest excuse. ‘That lets me out, then!” softly uttered the thoroughbred, as he felt all eyes upon bim., ‘‘ ve always been a scalawag—always will be, my people told me!” ‘* Who asked you to chip, you rascal?” snarled Matson, his face fairly livid with his fierce pas- sions. *That’s another of their pet names!” mur- mured Oakes, a look of sleepy wonder coming into his big blue eyes. ‘* Curious, how a fel- low’s reputation will fly abead of him! Must be in the air!” A faint laugh, smothered even in its birth came from the little group beyond Matson, and this by no means lessened his hot rage. And yet—he dare not strike or shoot, without at least the shadow of justification, and all this afforded none on which he could fasten, ‘*That glass was’tended fer me, Matson, ef you ain’t kickin’ at ’cludin’ me into the list 0” gents,” said Fatty Wells, his chubby fingers closing on the tumbler, his little eyes staring into that dark, passionate countenance, ‘“ Ef so be you don’t object, pard{”_~ “T thought you meant it for this egg-sucking hound, Fatty!” ‘ ‘*T’d give a spread-winged buzzard o’ our dad- dies for a square pull at half a dozen!” mur- mured Oakes, without a line of bis sleepy coun- tenance altering. ‘That’s why pap kicked me out o’ house and home—couldn’t get enough eggs together to make a glass of egg-nog! But— don’s pull’em too late, pard! Ef there’s any- thing in this world ’m not too easy—lazy, pap used to call it!—to hate, it’s eggs tha* have hung on the vines so long they’ve got touched by frost!” : ‘* Bottle up, will you?” snarled Matson, seeing that he must take it upon himself to start the quarrel, tin 9 as if angered by such idle chatter, hurling his glass and contents full at the head of the other. But it never reached its mark. With light- ning swiftness Oakes swayed his bead aside suf- ficient for the missile to pass barmlessly over his shoulder, then—Bark Matson went endlong ‘back into the very midst of bis “ heelers,” be- fore even his ready hand could draw the gun it clasped, though the weapon expleded in his scabbard as he fell! **Don’t crowd me too close, gents!” pnaeey. cried Oakes, leaping back to the partition, ea hand gripping a cocked revolver! CHAPTER XXXII, HIS OWN EXECUTIONER, Just how was it done? Not one of the on-lookers could have explained this to their own eae te satisfaction. All they could have said with anything like certain- ty was that one second Bark Matson apparently held the stranger wholly at his mercy, and in the next was knocked clean off his feet by a blow that sonsiied through the room like the kick of a mule! ‘“‘ Keep your clothes on, gentlemen!” added the thoroughbred as the spectators recovered suffi- ciently from their surprise to move, falling away from the prostrate fire-eater, more than one of them putting hand to weapon, either me- chantoal’s or through a wish toavenge the fallen man. ‘I’m not spoiling for a racket, but if ’m crowded too mighty close for free breathing, “Dip lightly, gents!” cried out Fatty Wells, emphasizing his words by the clatter of bis