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92 “'lllluln ISL, New York.

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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.

 
    
 

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Copyrighted 1897,
By Beadle and Adams.

 

 

BY MAliO 0. IlOIili‘IC.

 

Of all the pleasures in this life,
The one that leads the rest——

One that combines the best of all,
And which I love the best——

Is coasting on a winter night.
My brain so madly whirls,

When on a lovely moonlit eve
I’m coasting with the girls!

The snow was brightly glistening,
And flying from the sled—
, I sat behind and guided it,
While Susie sat ahead;
And as we glided dowu the hill,
She laughed and’shook her curls—-
And then I thought how nice it was,
This coasting with the girls!

Some way her hand slid into mine,
Just how, I cannot tell;

And then my arm got round her waist,
(A mystery as well.)

And then, I believe, I stole a kiss
From gleesome Susie Searles,

And thought how very pleasant ’twas
This coasting with the girls!

I think I quite forgot the sled,
And where it ought to go;

For when I got my senses back—
(And they came pretty slow,)

I found that I was in a drift,
And so was Susie Searles,

Who asked me archly, if I liked
Such coasting with the girls!

I answered “Yes,” and lifted her
Out of her bed of snow.

She asked me, when I set her down:

“ 'What made you hold me so?

I'm sure, Phil, you were very long
In smoothing out my curls! ”

I told her that ’twas ever thus
thn coasting with the girls!

0! all the. pleasures of my life,
The one that I loved best——

That ever in my mcm'ry dwells
li‘ar brighter than the rest—

Was coasting on a winter night
With pretty Susie Searlcs!

And if you wish such happiness,
Go coasting with the girls!

 

 

 

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“Hayre’s the blessed pelt. sure, an’ now—whayre’s the mon that wore it, bedad ?” asked Quinn.

 

(\THE

HEADLONG HUGHM\

MAN-TO-TIE-TO;

 

Or, The Hunted Min

A STOIKY 0F 'I‘IIE
110M ICS’I‘AICE STRIKE.

CHAPTER IV.
iiic.\pi.o.\'o noon rinks BUSINESS. I

It all took place with a rapidity which
was only equaled by the ease displayed
by this long—haired Hercules just off the
trail, as his dust—covered, weather—beat-
en garments bore ample evidence.

Dick Tate lay quivering as he fell be-
fore that swift stroke, with Bulldog Beebe
crossing his carcass, and Ginger Chump
sprawling all over, forming a confused
medley of legs and arms and heads sufli—
cicntly. ludicrous to justify the jolly
gut‘i‘aw which followed from the lips of
this dare-devil sport from the mountains.

Others could see something of that
grim jest as well, but not all present
were of that, caliber, as Hcadlong Hugh
right speedily found out.

Owen Quinn, left out of that sudden
rush through no lack of good will toward
his pards, now caught up a. heavy chair
and jumped toward the Hercules, strik-
ing as he came.

“ To the divil wid ye, thin!
{Inn—‘i’

Leaping swiftly aside, Headlong Hugh
escaped that vicious stroke, the heavy
chair going to wreck as it struck the
edge of the bar, half-paralyzmg the
freckled hands which grippedits back:

“ Augh! go take a walk, Irish! cried
the sport, grappling with the fellow and
rushing him across the room, then heav—
ing him bodily into air, in spite of his
desperate struggles, hurling him 'hea -
long through the one dingy Window
which that side of the saloon could boast.

Quinn vanished amid the crash of
sash and merry jingle of broken glass,
and apparently assured against further
trouble from that quarter, Headlong
Hugh wheeled to the right about, each
hand coming out from beneath. his coat
to display a wonderfully busmess—like

Lay down

 

 

 

 

 

er’s Death-Grapple.

By J. E. Badger, Jr.

“ Go easy, there! You're poorer game
than I often hunt, but whenever a skunk
circles my camp—steady, I tell you! 'I’Ve
got you lined, and I can shoot to a hair! ”

“ You bet! Me. too!” .

From the open doorway came this
affirmation, and those eyes which almost
involuntarily turned in that direction,
caught sight of a tall, dark—skinned man
crouching just inside the room, back
guarded by the wall itself, while his cop-
pcry hands gripped butt and barrel of a
Winchester repeating rifle, the muzzle
of which was coolly, easily, moving from
side to side, and covering each man be-
fore it in turn. _

An Indian, past doubting. And just
as plainly one who meant to back up
whatever Iieadlong Hugh saw fit to say
or to do. .

“ All right, Chonesta,” briskly spoke the
Hercules, smiling grimly at the conster-

nation so plainly pictured upon more

( . s than one, ‘ust then.

erSeShall I shoot]; boss?” asked this lat-
est arrival, his tones remarkably free
from accent for one who was undoubt-
edly of purely Indian blood. ”

“ Not unless I set the example, pardy,
quickly checked Headlong Hugh; then
adding to the embarrassed roughs: .Go
easy, my beauties, unless you’re_fairly
honing for a high lot on the hillside.
Some one of you called me by name Just
a bit ago, but maybe it’ll help smooth
the way if I give you all a regular knock-
down to both of us.

“Yonder you see Chonesta, from the
Cherokee Nation. If you'don’t like his
aboriginal handle, give him that which
he put on the roll—call at Haskelk Peter
Black Dog. By either title he’ll bite just
as keen and just as'deep; don’t you

' o doubt it, now.” .
be“OjrlAnutgh!” growled Bulldog Beebe, v1—
ciously, as he eyed first one man and
then the other, longing yet fearing to
make a rush in those muzzles. .Curse
the bloody Injun—and you With him!

“ That’s all right, but don’t you go fur-
ther than cursing, my beauty. For one

 

thing, ’twouldn’t be at all healthy.
another—but that can wait a bit longer.

“ As for my mother‘s son, I was christ—
ened Hugh Eddlong, although my name
has caught a sort of kink since then.
Let that go, though. I’m what I am, and
a goodly portion of that is—like this!

“Harry Marqueduc is my friend, and
has been ever since he gave the first blow
wit-h his pick right where the Homestake
Mine now stands.

“I never knew a whiter man than
that same Harry Marqueduc, and when
I caught such foul birds as you three
croaking filth all over his name, I just
had to chip—and that’s how it started!”

“I’ll play even for it all, you mind
that, now!”

“Let me know when you feel in the
humor for it, will you? That’s all right,
Bulldog. I can clean you out at any
sort of fun and frolic you can turn your
hand to; and take on your dirty pals as
sort of make-weight. But for now—who
says Harry Marqueduc murdered any-
body? Who dares to even hint at the
like? ”

With a. rifle and a brace of sixes star-
ing their way, neither one of the toughs
felt sufficiently reckless to repeat that
charge; but after a brief and embarrass-
ing silence, Big Sandy spoke from his
station behind the bar.

“ Mind ye, Mr. Eddlong, I hain’t say-
in’ he did do jest that, but—waal, Miles
Rockweed was stabbed clean through,
an’ Harry Marqueduc he’s bin tuck to the
lock—up fer doin’ of it.”

Headlong Hugh gave vent to a deep—
pitched sound which fell little short of
being a mighty oath at this information,
his honest visage turning a brick-red
with indignation at thought of the bitter
black insult thus put upon his sworn
friend and comrade.

For a. moment or two, even Bulldog
Beebe and Dick Tate flinched percepti-
bly, like men who anticipated a shot by
way of wiping out their share in that
same insult.

“It’s a lie, black as hell itself!” he
fairly exploded the next moment. “A
foul lie, told by infamous liars, one and
all! And you dirty whelps of Satan—”

“Put up your guns, critter, and I’ll
show ye what—”

Beebe surlily showed his teeth while
speaking, but broke off when Headlong
Hugh shook a. gun that way before
making reply:

“I’ll give you all the chance you dare
beg for, when the right time comes, you
snarling cur. As for now—my first duty
is to my pard, and I’m going to look him
up. In the lock-up, you say, old fel-
low?”

Big Sandy nodded assent.

“ All right. I know the place. A den
for curs instead of quarters for an honest
gentleman! But all that can be changed
when—Chonesta! ”

“ All right, boss!”

“ If any of these whelps tries to both—
er, give ’em the best you’ve got in the
shop. Understand? ”

Forq

 

“You bet!”

“ Now, just one word more to you fel—
lows," flashing eyes over the roughs
while adding: “Another time I’ll play
horse with the pile 0’ ye to your heart’s
content, but for now—try to make more
trouble while I’m working for my pard,
and I’ll wipe you OK the face 0’ the
earth!”

“You bet! Me too!”

Headlong Hugh moved toward the door
without a further glance at the bafiied
thugs, but Black Dog was on the keen
alert, and no move was dared by either.

Then the Cherokee deftly backed out
through the open doorway to join his
master, [the pair striding briskly away
through the night.

Here and there they brushed past little
knots of citizens, one and all talking
in bated tones of the recent tragedy and
its almost certain outcome, but nothing
occurred to interrupt their progress until
drawing near the rude structure which
served as a calaboose for city offenders.

Here was congregated quite a. number
of people, plainly excited by the cutting
affair, and many of whom were talking
more or less openly of a. necktie party
in which Harry Marqueduc should play
the most prominent part.

All that the crowd lacked was a leader
with courage to take the first step; but
that leader was not yet forthcoming, pos-
sibly because Seneca Spottsround was
standing near the barred door, face pale
and stern-set, yet clearly standing up
for the prisoner.

Headlong Hugh, his temper at keener
edge because of all his ears had caught
while coming thus near the threshold,
spoke abruptly to Mr. Spottsround, whom
he appeared to recognize as one in au-
thority.

The mining magnate gave start and
half—smothered ejaculation at sight of
the hairy Hercules, but paying that no
heed, Headlong Hugh said:

“Look here, old gentleman: ‘I want
to get inside yonder!”

“ You can’t—”

“You bet I just can, and you just bet
I will, too!” came the harsh interrup-
tion. “You’ve got my pard iri yonder,
and—”

“ Hugh—oh, Eddlong! ” came an eager
but husky cry from inside the calaboose,
as those tones were recognized by, the
prisoner.

“ All right, pardy! I’m here, and I’m
going to—will you open up, I say? Or—
open that door, Mr. Spottsround, or I’ll
shoot my way in!”

Out came a brace of revolvers to match
the words, and bold heart though he
surely was, Seneca Spottsround shrunk
back with face showing still paler than
before.

Ugly mutterings came from the crowd,
but Eddlong paid them no heed.

“Not you, sir, but the lock,” he has-
tened to assure the mine-owner, with a
short, harsh laugh. “Open up, or I’ll
blow your locks to blazes! I’m going
inside, and I’m going right now!”

 

“If I thought—”

“It’s acting, not thinking, old gent.
Open up or—that’s more like! it!” cried
Headlong Hugh, as Spottsround reluct—
antly produced a. rusty-looking key from
an inner pocket.

Seemingly fancying that such a reck-
less customer as this would be more
amenable to reason inside rather than
outside the jail, Spottsround turned key
in lock as quickly as might be, then
nodded head as invitation for the big
sport to cross the threshold.

Dim though the light was right there,
it seemed sufficient for such keen eyes,
and as though seeing something to take
warning by in that unusually pale face,
Eddlong spoke with grim decision:

“All right. I’m going in, but—after
you is manners, just now! ”

A brief hesitation, then Spottsround
entered, followed by the sport.

“You stand guard, Black Dog, and
don’t let ’em play us dirt!” was his ad-
jura‘tion to the faithful Cherokee.

CHAPTER V.
THE SPORTS LUCKLESS PARD.

“You bet!” quoth Black Dog, as he
faced the crowd, back to the door, look-
ing far more the untamed warrior than
a graduated from Haskell University.

Evidently the sport held full confidence
in this, his henchman, for he gave no
further look in that direction, shoving
Seneca Spottsround to one side in order
to the more fervently greet his luckless
pard.

Harry Marqueduc seemed almost too
deeply agitated for articulate speech,
and there were drops of moisture about
his eyes which, in case of a woman,
would have been tears, as he felt that
hearty grasp of honest hands.

Eddlong saw this; saw that the young
fellow was too deeply wrought upon just
then for ordinary greetings, so put on
his gayest bustle as he gripped hands
and cried:

“Well, now, this is a. sweet—scented
old hostelry you've chosen to welcome a.
pard in, you delicious young rascal, you!
How dare you—if I hadn’t been born
too mighty good-natured for my own
blessing, Hal, you scoundrel, I’d crawl
all up your back; like a blessed alacran
—yes, I just would, now!”

“I never—~you have heard, then?”
huskily muttered the prisoner.

“Some infernal nonsenSe about—pah!
What fools say. let a fool give ear to—
and that’s not my mother’s boy! It’s
all a. dirty mistake which can’t hold for
a. minute when people get their reason
back again. And so—take a brace, old
man! I’ll have you out 0’ this in just
two waggles of a sheep’s flapper! ”

Just then Seneca Spottsround inter-
posed, voice sounding almost as anxious
as his face looked by the dim glow of
the oil-lamp against the rear wall of
the calaboose.

“ If he could only explain—can’t you
tell who did the cutting, lad, since you
say you never?”

“Of course he never! ”

“Before high heaven, I never harmed
poor Miles!” passionately cried the ac-
cused, freeing hands from that warm
graSp to clasp and hold them above his
head, like one calling the powers to bear
witness.

“Yet he was stabbed, and that while
you were fighting. If not your hand,
whose was it?” persisted the mine-own-
er, gravely.

The Happy—go—lucky Sport gave him
an abrupt shove aside, seemingly irritat-
ed by that very gravity, then faced his
pard, one hand on shoulder, while its
mate closely clasped a set of trembling
fingers.

“Brace up, old man, and tell me all
about it. Of course I know you never
struck at a man’s back; it isn’t in your
blood; but since Miles did catch the point,
who did it? ”

Something in those tones and that
presence aided Marqueduc to rally in
goodly measure, although he still looked
and acted like one half-dazed by. some
benumbing blow.

Again and again the accused protested
his complete innocence, but with it came
the assertion of utter ignorance as well.

“He was drunk; not stupidly, you un-
derstand, but just enough under the
cursed influence to be quarrelsome.”

“Or he’d never pick a row with a fel—
low like you; that goes without saying,
Harry.

“I tried my level best to keep out of
it. I begged him to go ’way and sleep
it off. I even—lie struck me, time
and again! See! ” pushing back his
tangled locks to agitatedly tap with fore-
finger that ugly bruise upon a temple.

“He struck you first, Harry?”

“Yes, yes! I did all that mortal man
might do to ease it over, but when he
said—he was drunk—fighting drunk!”

“What did he say?” quickly cut in
Mr. Spottsround, listening keenly and
closely to that broken explanation.
“What was it that made you turn upon
him in the end? ”

“Didn’t he tell you?” almost harsh-
ly cried the Sport, frowning upon the
mine-owner. “ If a man should hammer
you all over, wouldn’t you turn on him, 

 

 

 

 

a revolver,  whicflgirthe caught the drop
like a veri a e exp . .

a. i Bulldog Ben was scrambling to his:
; feet, as was Ginger Chump, but the spoirn
,pi anticipated them both, calling forth

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