Beadle's Dime Library No. 527 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

ong wt “ . ie Oe - a * 12 Dandy Andy, the Diamond Detective. the rocky trail, and a grim smile curled his lips as he muttered barely above his breath: ‘* How easy to play Leonidas, if I cared to hold the pass! But why should I? Go feast your eyes on the fragments, Tom McCoy, then see how nearly you and Jerry Drane can hit on a description of the hero whose finger stirred up the pudding! And may you never sleep easy until you find the fellow who looks that way!” With a sound midway between a laugh anda growl, the desperado pursued his course, using such haste as might be along that narrow, crey- ice-like Pass, Once or twice he sunk low and almost dragged along on his belly, where the nature of the ground laid him open to view of any one gazing that way from the stage trail, taking these precautions even though his own keen vision failed to detect aught of such look- outs, Rash, impulsive though bis conduct had been that day, every step had been carefully planned in advance, every movement discounted, up to his wholly unexpected discovery of Mark Mason wer’ Jessamine Clare in such extraordinary eril, And even that thrilling spectacle had thrown hin: off his balance only fora brief space,though it filled his heart with vicious hatred and jealous fears, **T bit him, but how hard? Is he still alive? Is she—Satan burn the beggarly whelp! how did he catch on to such a chance as that?” Up to this moment, when he had almost gained the crest of the rocky range, pausing for breath now that he felt fully guarded against discovery by any one on or near the Flume, Taylor had hardly given the stage and its soli- tary inmate a passing thought, partly because he never for an instant dreamed that escape from total destruction was possible, but mainly through that strange rescue which he had wit- nessed, He casta scowling glance back in the direction of the river, one hand mechanically fumbling with the butt of his pistol, **T was a fool for not erp another snot! What if she had looked up? What would she have seen? Not my faca, but the mask of a penrece stranger! More fool I for not remember- a tw much at the right time!” espite his intense chagrin, the villain broke into a short, harsh laugh at his own folly in be- wailing what was past beyond recall. ** Better luck next time!” as he resumed his rapid progress through the thick-lying rocks, ** And it may not be so bad, after all, * don’t often miss a mark of that bigness, and he drop- ped as though he’ fet it hard, even if he did get up at ber touch. ers! What brought them there together? Can it be that she really looks so low as that?” Try as he might, he could not keep his vicious jealousy below the surface, The -stage trail had long since been lost to Sie and even the sullen roaring of the water- fall was fading away, now little plainer than the humming of a locust concert, but Taylor kept up bis rapid pace through that rough sec- tion, plamly anxious to reach a certain spot. * Only for that long-geared rascal it wouldn’t matter so much!” he muttered, pausing at length, brushing the sweat-drops from his face as he azed keenly about bim, more through instinct- ve caution than from any real fears of being re upcn in that lonely spot. ‘‘ Only for him there would be no one left to tell how the acci- dent came about. Or—why ecouldn’t he have chipped in a minute later?” Despite his brutal nerve, he shivered a bit as he thought how narrowly be bad esca being caught in the very act of murdering Jerry Drane RF eg a him over the edge of the Flume. If he bad— ‘*He’d have drilled me through the next second!” Even at that distance the reflection was any- thing but consoling, and the villain sought to banish it by falling briskly to work. When another glance assured him that be had naught to fear from spies, accidental or inten- tional, Taylor sunk to his knees at the base of a slightly overhanging rock, tugging away at a heavy slab of stone which seemingly had lain thus through countless ages undisturbed, Yet when this slab was moved, it revealed a dark, narrow cavity, barely large enough for a human being to thrust his head and shoulders into. Which was precisely what George Taylor proceeded to do, soon backing out, his bands full of sundry articles of clothing and ornament. Laying these aside, he stood up and began stripping off the garments he had worn as George Taylor, dropping them in a heap on the other side, to be topped off with a wig and false beard! Even more rapidly he donned the garments taken from the map riocce arranged cache, pres- ently looking an entirely different personage, rigged out in a neat yet serviceable bunting-suit from top to toe. Hastily rolling up the discarded articles, he pushed them into the cache, replacing the slab and carefully dusting it over, then covered all telltale sign before the secret deposit. With a short, satisfied laugh, he picked up his rifle, sweeping the rocks once more with his glittering gaze, then turned away, heading up the river, never for a moment dreaming that his secret was discovered, and that by one who would not scruple to make the most of it! CHAPTER XIV. A SPECULATING TRAMP, YET such was the fact. From the instant when he fired that cowardly shot at Mark Mason, the villain who had given the name of George Taylor bad hardly made a move or taken a step which was not noted bya pair of keen if little and bleared eyes—the eyes of ** Uncle Billy,” the mountain mendicant! We last sa‘ him when, blinded by that cut- ting whip. furious at the complete failure of bis plans, which, it is no more than just to say, con- templated nothing worse than a fright to the fair equestrian which should place in his posses- sion either money or its equivalent, for the pur- pose of buying more bad whisky, he hurled the stone that stung the spirited mustang to tempo- rary frenzy. Reckless, unprincipled though Uncle Billy was, the sight of that mud runaway in such dan- gerous quarters, partially sobered him. As by instinct he knew that the endiug could hardly be other than death or broken limbs for the maiden, and like the miserable coward he was, he turned and fled from the scene as fast as his rather scant allowance of wind would permit, ‘** They’ll never know how it come ef she cain’t tell, an’ ef she kin, then Dll lie out o’ it likea major!” he panted, slackening his efforts when a ridge was placed between himself and the spot where he had attempted to enforce a contribu- tion to his own needs. ‘* An’ I never meant no- thin’ to hurt, anyway! Ef she hedn’t got so durn bad skeered! An’ ef she hedn’t bin so pesky free with that rawhide—ugh !” He gingerly wiped his hot and smarting face, Its beauty was by no means increased by what had happened, for Jessamine bad used her whip to good advantage, and several livid stripes crossed his fat cheeks, ‘*T wouldn’t ’a’ hurt her even a weenty bit,” still trying to shift the blame of what he felt morally certain must have happened, from his own shoulders to those of his innocent victim, ** All IT axed was would she give a pore devil a dollar or so, An’ she so rich she wouldn’t never ’a’ missed it, An’me with neveraredin my kicks! An’ jest choked all up fer a bit o’ whisky!” . The thought set him to coughing huskily, and after a careful look about bim, he decided upon his course, stepping out briskly and like a man who has some definite object in view. ‘“‘Ef they’re livin’ thar yit—ef nothin’ hain’t happened to ’em sence [ve bin gone—who knows? Let Uncle Billy ketch a stake from the kids, or the ole woman—devil toast her fer a alpe ith her p’izen clapper!” fairly snorting out his disgust thus awakened, ‘It’s dollars to cents that | hev to shet off her wind jest to keep from gittin’ talked to death in a holy hurry!” He was heading for the Flume, meaning to cross Roaring Fork by the ‘ids and thus speedily gain the mining-town, I he could do this, and secure money enough with which to pay fora shave aud hair-cut and possibly a decent suit of clothes, might he not, even should the story of the mountain tramp get out in full, escape detection thus? ““Or why cain’t I lie it onto my pardner, buildin’ him up ’cordin’ to the story the gal tells, ef she ever does tell?” Uncle Billy gained a point overhanging the stage trail, and while searching for a practicable way of reaching the Flume, he caught sight of Mark Mason and Jessamine Clare standing on the rock above the fall. Not asound escaped his blanched lips as he sunk down upon the rocks, staring at the lovers, seemingly so certainly doomed to death, He could not explain how they got there, nor did he try. All he bad room for just then was the knowledge that but for his brutal deed, nothing of this could have occurred. Low, degraded, evil though he undeniably was, Uncle Billy was not wholly depraved, and he suffered miserably while watching that hap- less couple, As yet he had recognized neither, further than feeling assured that the woman must be the one whom he had halted up the river. The distance was too great, and the whirling mists from the fall almost incessantly vailed them. He saw the huge tree come floating down, only a few moments after bis eyes fell upon the lovers, and he was a breathless witness ‘to all that followed, even tothe foul shot which George Taylor fired at Mark Mason, though Uncle Billy could no longer see the lovers from where he crouched in hiding, ‘**That lets me out, I reckon!” the tramp mut- tered to bimself, a liar light gleaming in his bleared eyes. ‘‘Ef they’s any long talk goin’ on, I kin sw’ar the shootin’ onto that durn critter! An’ ef the shootin’, why not all the rest, too?” From his hiding-place he watched the further actions of the desperado with keenest interest, stealthily dogging him as He beat a hasty retreat from the vicinity of the Flume, enabled to do with less risk than might be expected, SSS sss eens eS thanks to Taylor confining bis watch to the lower regions rather than looking above, After the ridge was crossed by the desperado, however, Uncle Billy found his self-imposed task far more difficult, and its success cost bim a vast amount of panting and short breath. More than once he was tempted to risk a shot at the villain, but he not only distrusted his rusty, sbaky revolver, but also his own skill and steadiness of hand, ‘*T couldn’t hit a barn ef I was shet up inside | 0’ it, jest now!” he panted, in disgust, giving over that desperate expedient. ‘‘An’ I do | reckon he’d jest punch me too full o’ holes fer me ever to bold wind, water or whisky any more —l jest does, now!” If he could only ‘‘ place” the fellow! But that he could not do, and so he doggedly persisted in _ the effort to track him home, if home the pre- cious rascal bad. And when almost at the point of exhaustion, Uncle Billy saw bis game come to a halt, sweep- ing the ground about him with glances which could only have one meaning, And lying flat on his stomach beneath a friendly bush which grew close alongside a rough mass of rock, the spy waited and watched for his reward, Secure in bis snug covert, Uncle Billy watched the opening of that cunning cache, as well as all that followed, grinning and even breaking into a low laugh as he did so, Truly, his weary chase had met its reward. ‘*The more trouble the bigger game they is hid ahind it—don’t I know that much?’ he chuckled, parting the leaves which interfered with his espial, eagerly studying that face and figure, until he felt that he could take oath to them among ten thousand men. He never moved from his hiding-place when the villain strode rapidly away from the cache, rifle carelessly resting in the hollow of bis left arm, the very beau ideal of a sportsman, the very opposite in all respects to the outside pas- senger whose name was on the way-bi!l as George Taylor, bound from Summit to Tip-Top. **Go yonr way, critter!” blandly murmured the tramp, waving a dirty paw after the van- ishing shape. ‘‘Ef you wasn’t hangin’ out mighty nigh this place, you wouldn’t hev sech a handy dressin’-room. f you wasn’t a durn rascal, you wouldn’t need any sich, Ef you wasn’t well heeled, you wouldn’t kerry sech fine duds an’ sech a fine ’peater. An’ ef you wasn’t none o’ them-—waal, mebbe I wouldn’t Le takin’ so durn much trouble fer to know ye better.” Uncle Billy watched the man until he vanished in the distance. ‘* Goin’ to cross Roarin’ Fork at the ford, I reckon,” though there was just the shadow of a doubt on his whip-marked face, ‘ Ef he didn’t hang out at Tip- op, what’s he doin’ afoot-back this fur? An’ how’d be know them critters down yen’ bad enough fer to shoot—which? The he, fer rocks!” a sudden light flashing into his countenance. ‘‘An’ why? The she, fer more rocks!” breaking into a husky laugh that shook his figure from crown to sole. ‘‘The green-eyed monster, fer sure! An’ that’s comin’ my way, or I’m a bigger liar then the law lows, All it lacks is knowin’ right whar to find the critter, an’ that’s in Tip-Top, mighty nigh dead sure. An’ when I kin clap a claw onto bim—waal, ef he don't lay yaller coin faster then the ole goose ye read ebout in hbistry, I want to know.” For the time being Uncle Billy appeared to forget the sins of which he himself was guilty, having room only for thoughts of that other criminal, And among them was a vague won- der why the fellow had gone to so much trouble and time in disguising himself. ‘* Mebbe they’s somethin’ hid away in that hole as ‘ll ’splain the nigger-ma,” be mumbled, cautiously rising to his knees, pausing to make sure that the mysterious stranger bad indeed vanished from sight. When fully assured on that point, he rose erect and hastened down to where the slab of stone concealed the discarded disguise, if no more important secret. It proved a severe test of his strength to move the slab, but he finally succeeded, and then pro- ceeded to investigate the contents of the cache with all the gusto of a child ransacking the for- bidden treasures of an old-time attic. He thrust his head and shoulders into the cavity, exploring with his hands, but the result only confirmed his first impression that the slab concealed nothing more than an artificial open- ing, notacave. Butsmall though the hole was, it appeared to be well stocked. Of course the first object on which his hun- fingers closed was the disguise which the villain had worn as George Taylor, and Uncle Billy, drawing back, fell to investigating this more Closely, after a precautionary gaze about him, ‘* Findin’s is keepin’s ef they’s ary thing— lory to the ram!” he chuckled in bigh glee as ie felt the shapo of a bottle or flask in the bun- dle. ‘*' Whisk sai guess! Brandy, I hope! Emptyness ’d kill me!” | ith trembling haste he brought the flask to hia ps unscrewing the top and gluing it to his lips. Certainly not emptiness! That could never have brought such a glow of perfect bliss into Gomicbooks * aE %