Beadle's Dime Library No. 51: Red Rob, The Boy Road-Agent — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

‘= Red Rob, The Boy Road-Agent. if Saint Bernard monk. And so’s Patience, my mare, here. She’s-a leetle. thin jist at présent, but can play tricks jist as good as any critter that ever tickled a’ audience— good blood in her—jist. as good as ever boxed Arabian soil or kicked the day-lights outen an Arab, Yes, noble critters are Pa- tience, my mare here, and Humility, my dorg thar. I could trace their pedegree cl’ar back to Noah and the ark.” ‘‘T know from experience,” said Octavia, desirous of en- couraging him in his love for his dumb companions, ‘‘ that Patience is fast.” “Past!” exclaimed the ranger, in apparent astonishment; ‘why, bless yer little soul, gal, ye don’t know what fast is. You'd ort to see her do her best. As an illustrashin, I'll tell ye, while we rest, what we done oncet. Patience, she played blind, Jame and halt, and I played crazy. In this condition we sailed into a crowd of Ingins to see what war goin’ on; for we war ranger’n’ for the Government then, and war actin’ spy. Wal, we got in all right, but we looked so ’tarnal tough and discomboborated, that the red-skins concluded to have some fun and make us run the gantlet. So’bouta million of them, more or less, formed in two lines facin’, and started us down: atwixt ’em, every sinner intending to whack us as we labored by. But Judea! I,spoke to Pa- tience and that’s the last they see’d of ber. Away she flew down that gantlet so swift that a crack, big as a tunnel, was act’ly split into the air, and then as the gap filled up again— rushed in from both sides, them red-skins war slapt together —that is the two lines—war jist sucked right in together so awfully that every red-skin war bu’sted._It’sa fact; but now, Miss, we'll go;” The old borderman led the way from the grove and across the plain toward the. north. He moved briskly, and.just as the last beams of light faded from the distant mountain hights they reached the train, which had gone into camp on the scene of the late con flict. Amid the wildest excitement and shouts of joy, Octavia rode into camp. ‘‘ Bress de Lor’ ob heaben!” shouted old Agint Shady, clap- ping her fat hands with joy, and alternating between fits of laughter and outbursts of tears. Octavia introduced her rescuer to the party. The name and deeds of Dakota Dan were well known to all, but it was the first occasion upon which any of them had ever met the distinguished scout and ranger. | Dan was for soon taking his departure, but on the earnest and urgent solicitation of the men and Octavia, he finally concluded to remain until morning. The emigrants also pre- vailed upon him, as a matter of honor as well as necessity, to take charge of the encampment, which he did with some reluctance, for he saw there was a great deal at stake. With his characteristic open-hartedness and familiar ways, the ran- ger set about his work of arranging the camp and horses in the safest condition possible under existing circumstances. After all had been secured, and two guards for the first watch had been posted, the little band gathered in a group near the center of the camp, and entered into conversation. Lanterns hung from the side of the wagons, lit up the scene. The late conflict was the principal topic discussed and commented upon. ‘This ’ere is a most all-fired, ticklish kentry, friends,” said Dan, philosophically. ‘‘ If ye set down on the peraroe, ten to one you'll git rite up and look daggers at the cactus you sot on; and if ye lay down to rest, ten to one the lance of a red-skin ’ll be jabbed into ye. If it ar’n’t Ingins, why it’s ‘ greasers,’ and if it ar’n’t greasers, it’s outlaws, and if it ar'n’t outlaws, it’s the devil hisself. It’s mighty risky, I tell ye, in you folks trampoozin’ this ’ere kentry with feminine weemen, and afore ye git clean through to San Juan valley, I’m afraid you'll have skids of trouble. You see the great Triangle’s been gailivantin’ all’ over Nu Mexeko fur six months, and have gct the lay of the land purty prim. And we've had some fights too, that took every nerve of man, hoof and howler to fetch victory or death. Lor’! we've shed gal- lons and gallons of the best of blood since we’ve been down here.” ‘‘Bress my soul!” exclaimed old Aunt Shady at this junc- ture, innocent of any offense; ‘‘ guess you won’t shed much more—awful lean ole sinner.” ‘* Always was, Aunt Shadder,” replied Dan, good-naturedly ; “it runs in the Rackback family. Thar war ten boys of us, and ole Mrs. Rackback used to stand us @ whole summer in the garden fur bean-poles, to keep us outen mischief; but I ¥towed faster’n the beans and pulled ’em all out by tbe roots, and so I war took out of the garden and sent West to ‘ pre- empt.’ But I'd ruther be lean than plump and fat like you, Aunt Shadder. And I'll tell ye why. Buffaloes are so lean ‘down here that. the Ingins. kill all the fat folks to fry their meat with.” Aunt Shady groaned with horror, but her emotions finally ended in a fit of laughter. ‘Then you have no idea, Dan, who those rangers were, nor where they belong?’ Major St. Keneim asked, ‘‘ No more’n the man in the moon,” responded the ranger. “yey may b’long to some of the many PUMATY posts that btini@iese ’ere southern peraroes, _ What sort 0’ lookin’ man war their leader, or did ye see?” ‘We did not see him,” St..Kenelm replied. ‘“‘T did,” said Octavia; ‘‘he was a young man. After J left the train, he overtook’ mé on the road, and we traveled and conversed together. He was gentlemanly and courteous, and dressed in a handsome uniform.” ‘“You don’t say!” said the ranger. ‘If they'd a-turned in and helped the Ingins butcher you folks, I’d ’a’ swore then it war the outlaw gang of Red Rob, the Boy Road-agent. Did he tell you his name, Octavy?” ‘‘He did not,” replied the maiden, her face | betraying some inward emotion which did not escape the eyes of old Aunt Shady. ‘‘ Chile ob my ole heart,” she said, approaching the maiden and gazing down into her face with a lugubrious look, ** what under de sun and shinin’ stars ails you? Ar’n’t. you'in love, chile, now say?” 1” Octavia blushed crimson and in a reptavingst tone replied: ‘¢ You must be crazy, Aunt Shady. Of course I love sacl and brother Albert ” , Now, honey, do be acertu, .d don’t torgit woat uc Bible says ’bout Andynius and Sappfiry. Aunt Shady alers know dat you lub her and brudder Al, but you neber blush "hout it dat way. No, chile, your ole aunty knows) dar an. sumthin’ wrong wid dat heart Gb your’n, and to-morrow I'li look into it. I’M sift it out, chile. | 1 jist believe dat young feller you see’d on de road to Cornjose has gwine off wid your heart, and—”’ “Oh, Aunt Shady, do be still,” intedenpted Odtaviay: a s Jittle provoked. ‘‘ Well, missus,” said the old negress, relaxing into silanoe: “If you do stop at Conejos,” Dakota Dan said, {you want to keep yer eyes on yer mules, yer hands on yer pockets and yer breeches in yer boot-tops, or, by Judea, them Mex* cans will steal ’em. They're the dirtiest thieves that: ever wore ha'r—cowardly, too, as any coyote that ever howled in the dark. They’d stab a dead man in the back and think they’d got revenge. But if you jist show ’em your spunk—- the white of yer eye—let 'em b’lieve you’d ruther fight: thar eat, then they’ll keep their places.” ‘Then the village is composed altogther of Mexicans, is it?” asked young Boswell. \ ‘« Mexican half-breeds, with a sprinklin’ of American rouet abouts, Dutch, Irish, Scotch and so on.” ** Do they all steal?” ‘No; jist the ‘ greasers.’” ‘“‘T should think they could be broke of that,” said Tom Gilbert. ‘“They can, lad. It’s no use sayin’ Mexican can’t be civilized and induced to quit bad tricks. When I war up to Denver City I see’d as thievin’ a pack of ’em as ever robbed a hen-roost, eternally cured of stealin’: They war ketched in the act, tried and sentenced to be hung up by the ‘heels over night. The judge said that stealin’ war a disease) with them—said it prevailed in the States to some extent; aud was called ‘kleptomony,’ or ‘ keepthe-money,’ or suthin’ like that; and said the only thing that ’d ‘cure it was an applica- tion of ‘ pervershimheelsoverhedum,’ or some big Latin name I couldn’t figure out, that sounds like that. At any rate ropes wur provided and the diseased gentlemen marched down into ‘ Yoop-ee Gulch.’ There the heels of the: light-fingers were elevated heavenward, and securely fastened to the limbs of a majestic ole pine tree. Their heads jist teched the ground, and the way them invalids bellered for mercy and pawed the ground) would make a buftler-bull blush to the tips of his horns. I tell ye-what, ole Yoop-ee jist boomed »but, boys, it war a good idea. The judge war right. It» cured them Mexicans ‘of ‘ kliptoomany,’ and madé quiet men of them.” ** Indeed?” said Maja St. Kenelm, failing to read the twinkle in the old ranger’s eyes., |“‘ 1 should have, thought they would have been all the worse attes such pens punishment.” © 6 5 8) | (EMMI NCO KS5 (EO) m y