Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 545 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

—_ - | Hustler Harry ——_ A confident voice, filled with quiet determina- tion, Hickory Bit turned to confront— A man at least six feet tall and ‘‘ built from the ground up.” Nota thick-set, ox-like figure but one which combined great strength and manly grace; a form which filled the rough | _ flesh striking flesh, cowboy costume until the clothes fitted as if cut by a metropolitan tailor. Every limb was rounded and muscular, yet was not overbur- dened or cumbersome. The head was well poised on a perfect neck, tue wide-brimmed sombrero being set jauntily on one side of his brown, curling mass of hair, His features were round and clear-cut as if chiseled from marble, but the square, full lower jaw denoted a deter- mined, unswerving nature. His eyes were blue and filled with a half-mirthful yet wholly un- fathomable light. With one exception, no ornaments were vis- ible upon his person. On the bosom of his = eee “Laff, ye mis’ble coot! Tll soon make ye squawk outer ther t’other side o’ yer mouth! Take thet !” He leaped forward, striking straight for the Hustler’s still laughing face. It was a terrific blow, and was followed by a loud smack as of A gasp ran over the throng. But the Man from High Notch stil stood there in his tracks, smiling and calm, with Hickory Bill's right fist held fast in the palm of one sinewy hand, where it had struck, instead of landing between his eyes, ‘lm Hustler Harry, ther Hard Nut ter Crack!” cried the unshaken stranger. Then he seemed to grasp Bill’s wrist and jerk the bully toward him. Swiftly he leaped to one side, at the same time kicking the feet out from under the vaunted ‘‘ chief,” who went crashing down upon bis face; then the Hustler seized him blue woolen shirt was a gold pin, representing a | by the collar of his coat and a convenient part whip and sombrero. No weapons were in sight | of his pantaloons. in belt or packet of this independent cowboy, for a cowboy he appeared to be. He stood with his hands resting carelessly on his hips, a smile upon his handsome face, while his blue eyes looked fairly into the depths of Hickory Bill’s unsteady orbs, For a moment the Chief of Cimarron appeared too startled to speak, He turned his gaze upon this stranger who had presumed to confront ni, but did not release his hold upon the arky. As for Black Joe he now appeared to be more terrified than before, but he paid not the least attention to Hickory Bill. Instead, his eyes were fixed upon the face of the new-comer, and his teeth chattered with a fright that was in no way assumed, But for the detaining band upon his collar, he would have fled as swiftly as his trembling limbs would have moved, “Did ye wag yer jaw at me?” demanded the now scowling Chief of Cimarron. ‘“‘ Wal, I sh’u’d remark!” was the calm re- sponse, An ugly light lit up the bully’s eyes. He had nm assuming anger to frighten the negro; there was little need to assume it now, for bis worst passions were aroused. ‘* W’at d’yer want?” was the tough’s fierce de- mand, ‘* Let up on thet colored gent’s collar, you big blowhard!” Hickory was fairly staggered, while a gasp of amazement ran over the crowd. Would this stranger dare face the ‘‘chief” of the camp? And how could he avoid doing so after uttering those insulting words? With a hoarse bellow, Bill released his grip upon the darky and turned upon the pre- sumptuous cowboy, while Black Joe slunk from the room; but no one noticed bis departure. Every eye was fixed upon Hickory Bill and the stranger. ‘* Go fer "im, Billy,” squeaked bummer, Posey Pete. ‘‘ Knock ther humps offen ther crittur!” **Give him the knife!” Gonzalo, a dark-faced Spaniard, hissed in the bully’s ear! The bummer and the Spaniard were two of Hickory's trusted tools, ‘*D’yer know who L am, yer presumpchus cur frum Dog Alley?” “T regret ter say thet [ hain’t sighted yer brand, partner,” was the reply, as the cowboy still smiled in an unruffled manner. ‘* Waal, I’m Hick’ry Bill, Z am! I jist run this byer camp. [Tm ther man w’at killed John Sullivan by blowin’ on him,” ‘* Wal, that’s ther fus’t I’ve heerd of Sullivan’s death. So yer killed him by blowin’? By that 1 reckon yer torked him ter death. ‘‘ S’pose ther poor feller laid down an’ died outer disgust,” For a moment the bully did not know what to say or do. His face grew black, and he fairly choked with rage. After-a time he managed to gasp: - Who are you?” The stranger laughed ina careless way. He was still entirely at his ease, despite the bully’s hc ropes 3 e? Wal, mer pards call me Hustler Harry, ther Hard Nut ter Crack. I’ve just Waviadd down inter these hyar parts frum High Notch, an’ I’m on ther lookout fer sport. Pmer high old Maverick fer fun, an’ ef ye’ve got anything of Po kind in this hyer burgh, w’y, just trot it out! ** Ye’ll find fun ter spare afore ye git dun wi’ me,” vociferated Bill, in his ugliest mood, The Man from High Notch looked surprised, “What? Not you? Youdon’t mean to in- para tee tS “Thet mer goin’ ter chaw ye all up—-yes! Pll Varn ye w’at it means ter stick yer nose inter my bus’nes’; [ll Parn ye ter cum crown’ ’roun’? this hyer burgh! [mer goin’ ter drap on ye an’ squose ye outer existence. I’m er goin’ ter teetotally wipe ve allover this hyer ranch, I’m er goin’ ter pound ye inter jelly. You hear me mae the Datch ye say! I’m s’prised!” With this exclamation Hustler Harry critic- ally surveyed Hickory from head to foot, and grr pea nena, at which Bill’s face turn airly purple wit e, and, like a wild beast he Pe Pay il ; et | | | Neen ee e——————eyEe—————eEeEEEEEE EE ————— a At this instant, however, Posey Pete flung himself upon Harry’s back, piping sbrilly: ‘** Down ther critter! Don’t let ’im up!” Seemingly without an effort, but still laugh- ing, the Man from i -S Notch arose, at the same time lifting the heavy form of the big tough, Once upright, with a sudden shake, Pete was dislodged. Then Harry lifted the Cimarron chief above his head and hurled him fairly over the heads of the crowd, feet-foremost, through the open door into the street beyond, CHAPTER ITI. THE FATAL BIRTHMARK, It was an amazing feat of strength, and for an instant the crowd seemed fairly paralyzed, That a human being could perform such an ap- parently impossible act, not one of them had ever dreamed, True, an outlay of strength suffi- cient to carry the heavy body of the bully clear over the heads of the crowd would alro take it out through the door, but either feat seemed an impossibility. osey Pete, the bummer, shrunk back in con- sternation, Casper Gonzalo crouched with his hand upon the haft of a partly-drawn stiletto, his eyes dilated with amazement, as be breathed a Spanish oath. Hustler Harry, that smile still on his face, his hands resting lightly on his hips, ran his eyes over the circle of amazed faces. Not even a tremor of limb or a quick breath told that the wonderful act had cost him an unusual outlay of mrscular power, ‘*Ther jamboree’s begun, pards; walk in an’ hav’ a han’ in ther fun. Just hop right inter ther ring an’ grab ther bull by ther borns, Now’s yer chance ter rope haydoogins of sport, so don’t let ther oppertunity slip! I’m Hustler Harry, ther Hard Nut from High Notch, an’ I’m just a wild Maverick on ther stampede w’en IT gits ter goin’. If ary of you critters thinks he kin putt bis brand onter me, just let him tackle ther lob. I’m hyer ter ’muse ther congrega- tion, Composedly, almost softly spoken, were the words, and but for the natural cowboy lingo, one would have thought they came from the lips of a polished gentleman. Once more he ran his eyes over the throng, the smile upon his face giving place to a look of mild surprise, **Not one!” he murmured in accents of dis- appointment, ‘* Ther fun’s over ’fore it’s fair] begun, Is this ther kind of er jamboree this hyer town turns out? Just one kickin’, bellerin’ steer, an’ I flopped him first throw! Woof!” ** Look ter ther boss,” cried Posey Pete. ‘*P’raps ther p’izen cuss bas killed him. Sum- buddy keep an eye on ther critter; I'll go see.” He worked his way through the crowd and passed through the doorway. Bill was just rising toa sitting posture, looking dazed and shaken, The red light from the globe above the door showed Posey the form of his ‘‘ boss,” andin an instant the bummer was beside the discomfited chief, “How dyer feel, pard?” anxiously inquired the satellite, Hickory uttered a groan, but did not im- mediately reply. *“"Spect ye’r’ all tore out,” continued Pete, as he supported the bully in a sitting posture, “It’s er durned wonder thet ye hain’t plum’ bruck inter kindlin’,” ‘* How’d he do it? Durn his bide! Never Ae such er reg’lar blizzard afore,” grunted ‘*Don’t ax me how he dun it, fer Pl never tell. I jumped ther durned critter an’ tried ter hold ’im down, but, good Lord! he never mind- ed ita tall. He just riz right up wi’ both o’ us, an’ ther way he sent ye sailin’ through ther air was simply stuperfyin’.” ‘* Au’ ther way I lit out hyer was simplv par- alyzin’,” was Hickory Bill’s assertion. ‘‘ Fer er second or so I didn’t know er blamed thing. Whar is ther critter now?” ‘*In there. crowin’ an’ floppin’ of his wings. I guess he’s bout ter call hisself ther chief o’ this hyer gt Hickory Bill uttered a growl. * Let bim ef he darst! I hain’t done wi’ him. Soon’s I kin git mer balance, ther galoot frum High Notch shell heer frum me erg’in.” . he Cowboy Sport. mn 3. a —-—-< ‘“*Thet’s ther tork, hyer cums ther gang, Out of the saloon poured the crowd, eager to learn the fate of the unlucky chief. With some difficulty, Bill sueceeded in getting upon his feet, aided by Posey Pete. He faced the crowd, an ugly look upon his face, **T reckon ye hoped I war dead,” he growled. si But I hain’t, I’m hyer ter down ther best o’ e, ‘Better begin with the Hustler,” boldly sug- gested some one on the outskirts of the crowd. A tigerish gleam leaped into the bully’s eyes as he glared around in search for the speaker, But whoever it was, he had the prudence not to let himself be seen by the terror of Cimarron City. ‘Ef thet sneakin’ cur ‘ll step out byer, Vl ram his words down his throat,” declared the enraged tough, But no one came forward. With a slow, yet decisive step, Hickory ad- vanced into the saloon. The crowd followed, anticipating further sport, Within the room the bully’s eyes moved around, looking for his late antagonist. After atime he espied him seated ata deal table at the further end of the room, talking witha bearded stranger. Some of the throng expected that the chief would at once renew the quarrel, but they were doomed to disappointment, Bill turned toward the barkeeper, ‘Say, Johnny, jist er light snifter ter clean mer throat. My inwards are all outer kilter, an’ need ‘ilin’.” The barkeeper hesitated, but catching the eye of a tall, handsome man who entered at that moment, and perceiving a slight nod, hastened to set a bottle and glass before the thirsty bruiser. Bill quickly turned out a brimming glass and tossed it off Another followed, and he had filled the third, when a hand stole under bis arm and the liquor disappeared. Bill did not notice this, and when he attempted to lift the giass, he found it gone. A snort of amazement broke from his lips, ‘* Waal, ’'m jiggered!” Bill rubbed his eyes, stared at the spot where the glass should be, then gazed at the man be- hind the bar, his face the very picture of stupid surprise. ‘*Reckon I’ve got em,” he muttered. ‘ Didn't think I war shook up thet bad!” While he was rubbing his eyes, that sly hand stole back and the glass, now empty, was softly placed upon the bar. A moment later Bill es- ied it. me Great Scott!” His bair seemed to rise upon his head. He stared at the glass as if at a ghost, ‘“‘T filled it,” he muttered; ‘‘ but now it’s empty. I didn’t drink it.” ‘We'll have to charge it to you just the pecan observed the barkeeper, unable to repress a smile. ‘“Charge an’ be durned!” growled the bully. “lm goin’ ter bev thet drink. I don’t reckon thet’ll happen twice.” But it did, Bill filled the glass and removed hiseyes from it for an instant. When he at- tempted to lift it to his lips, it had disappeared. ith a yell, the chief turned to flee from the spot and found himself face to face with Posey ete, who was just draining the glass, A cry of rage burst from the Dully’s oa and in a moment he caught the bummer y the throat, stopping the final swallow ere it could pass into his stomach. ‘Yer sneakin’ soaker!” he snarled. ‘‘ Pll Varn ye ter steal my likker.” He drew back his fist to strike the strangling bummer when he felt an iron grip upon bis arm, and a commanding voice said: ‘*None of that here! If you must quarrel, get out.” The words were companied by alo lower his hand. Horace Kelnot was the speaker. He it was who had given the barkeeper a covert signal to set out liquor for Bill, and he now gripped the bully’s arm ina manner that was a significant though silent signal. Hickory understood Handy Horace’s meaning and released his hold upon Posey. To the crowd it seemed that the proprietor of the Silver Pal- ace had simply quelled a row; but, in reality, he had done more, No one noticed that one by one Casper Gon- zalo, Posey Pete, and lastly, Hickory Bill left the saloon. Noone noticed that Handy Horace soon passed through a side r into an adjoin- ing room. No one thought ‘that the four men were closeted in a private apartment a few min- utes later. During this time Hustler Harry and the strange bewhiskered man had been talking in low tones. When the crowd left the safoon to ascertain the fate of Hickory Bill, a medium- sized, well-dressed individual had touched the Man from High Notch on the arm. pard! Now brace up, fer y Hire in a low tone, and ac- ok that caused the bully to ‘“Excuse me,” said the stranger. ‘I would like to speak with you.” ** Yours ter comman’,” smiled the cowboy. | : | | Se EGOMIIGVOOKS