Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 299, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 December 1919 — Devil’s Own [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Devil’s Own

A Romance of the Black Hawk War • •

By RANDALL PARRISH

Author of “Contraband," “Shea of the Iriah Brigade," "When Wilderneaa Wan King." etc. Illustration! by Irwin Myers Copyright by A. C. McClure * Co. ■ ■ I . ' _

“YOU DIRTY, LOW-DOWN THIEF!”

Synopsis -Tn ISS2 Lieutenant Knox of the regular army la on duty at Port Armstrong, Rock Island, 111., in territory threatened by disaffected Indians. The commandant sends him with dispatches to St. Louis. He takes passage on the steamer Warrior and makes the acquaintance of Judge Beaucalre ricn planter, and of Joe Kirby tthe Devil’s Own), notorious gambler. Kno.x learns Judge Beaucalre has a daughter, Eloise. He also learns strange things about the Beaucaire family.

CHAPTER / ll—Continued. "You mean —” “In the form of a child, born to n quadroon girl named Della. The mother, It seems, was able in some way to convince the Judge of the (Child's parentage. AH this happened shortly before Beaueaire's second marriage, and previous to the time when iHafnes came to*the Landing. Exactly what occurred is not clear, or what exJplanation was made to the bride. The (affair must have cut Beaueaire’s pride 'deeply, but he had to face the conditions. It ended in his making the girl 'Della his housekeeper, while her child —the offspring of Adelbert Beaucaire—was brought up as a daughter. A year or so later the second wife gave birth to a female child, and those itwo girls have grown up together exlactly as though they were sisters. iHaines insists that neither of them knows to this day otherwise." “But that would be simply impossible,” I Insisted, “The mother would ■never permit.” “The mother! Which mother? The slave mother could gain nothing^bv confession,’ and the judge's wife djed when her baby was less than two years old. Delia practically mothered 'the both of them, and is still in comiplete charge of the house.” r “Youmether?” ; “She was pointed out to me—a graySiaired, ' dignified woman, so nearly white as scarcely to be suspected of megro blood.” -■ - “Yet still a slave?” “I cannot answer that’. Haines himjself did not know. If manumission [papers had ever been executed it was •done early, before he took charge of Beaueaire's legal affairs. The matter never came to his attention.” “But, captain,” I exclaimed, “do you realize what this might mean? If Judge Beaucaire has not issued papers ■of freedom this woman Delia is still a slave/’ ; “Certainly.** " “And under the law her child was born into slavery?” “No doubt of that." “But the unspeakable horror of it — this young woman brought up as free, educated and refined, suddenly to discover herself to be a negro under the Jaw, and a slave. Why, suppose Beaucaire should die. or lose his property (suddenly; she could be sold to the cotton fields, into bondage to anyone ■who would pay the price for hen” “There is nothing on record, Haines assured himself as t’o that some years ago.” “What are the two girls named?” - Trim TSTTri. ’V . “Which one is the daughter?” “Reiflly, lieutenant, I do not know. You see I 'was never introduced, hut merely gained a glimpse of them in the garden. I doubt if I would recognize the one from the other now. You eee all this story was told me later.” I sat there a long while, after he had gone below, the taciturn mate at the wheel. Totally unknown to me as these two mysterious girls were, their strange story fascinated my frnagifiation. What possible tragedy Jay before them in the years? What horrible revelation to wrench them asunder — to change in s single instant the quiet current of their lives? In spite oC every effort, every lurking hope, sbme .way .1. could .tit), I rid my sell*. of th c thought*, that Beaucaire either

through sheer neglect, or some instinct of bitter hatred —had failed to meet the requirements of his duty. Even aS I sat there, struggling vainly against this suspicion, the judge himself came forth upon the lower deck and began pa&hg back and forth restlessly | beside the rail. It was a struggle for me not to join him; the impetuosity urging me even to brave his in my eagerness to ascertain the Urnole truth. Set possessed sense j

enough, or discretion, to refrain, realizing dimly that, not even in tin- remotest degree, had I any excuse for such action. This was no affair of mine. Nor, indeed, would I have found much opportunity, for private conversation, for only a moment or two later Kirby joined him. and the two remained together, talking* earnestly, until the gong called us all to supper. Across the long table, bare of cloth, the coarse food served in pewter dishes, I was struck by the drawn, ghastly look in Beaueaire’s face. He had aged perceptibly In the last few hours, and during the meal scarcely exchanged a word with anyone, eating silently, his eyes downcast. Kirby, however, was the life of the company, and the miners roared at his humorous stories and anecdotes of adventure —while.outside it grew dark, and the little Warrior struggled cautiously through the waters, seeking the channel in the gloom. CHAPTER 111. The End of the Game. It must have been nearly midnight before I finally decided to seek a few hours’ rest below, descending the short ladder and walking forward along the open deck for? one last glance ahead. Some time the next day we were to be in St. Louis, a ini this expectation served, to brighten my thoughts. I turned back along the deserted deck, duly pausing‘a moment to glance carelessly in through the front windows of the main cabin. The forward portion was wrapped in darkness, and unoccupied, but beyond, toward the rear of the long saloon, a considerable group of men were gathered closely about a small table, above which a swinging lamp burned brightly, the rays of light illuminating the various faces. Gambling was no novelty on the great river in those days, gambling for high stakes, and surely no ordinary game, involving a small suW would ever arouse tho depth of interest displayed by these men. Some instinct .told me that the chief players would be Kirby and Beaucaire, and with quickening pulse I opened the cabin door and entered. No one noted my approach, or so mul’h as glanced up, the attention of the crowd riveted upon the players. There were four holding cards—the judge. Kirby, Carver and McAfee; but I judged at a glance that the latter two were merely in the game as a pretense. the betting having already gone far beyond the limit of their resources. Without a thought as to the cards they held my eyes sought the faces of the two chief players, and then visioned the stakes displayed on.the table before them. McAfee and Carter were clearly enough out of it, their cards still gripped in their fingers, as they, leaned, .breathlessly .forward to observe more closely the play. The judge sat upright, his attitude strained, staring down at his hand, his face white and eyes burning feverishly. That he had been drinking heavily was evident, but Kirby fronted him in apparent cold indifference, his feelings completely masked, with the cards lie held hunched in his hands and entirely concealed from view. Between the two rested a stack of gold coin, a roll of crushed bills and a legal paper of some kind, the exact nature of which I could not determine. It was evident tha t a fortune already rest'ed Oh "Tha t table, awaiting the flip of a card. The silence, the breathless attention, convinced me that the crisis had been reached —it was the judge’s move; he must cover the last bet or throw down his hand a loser. Perspiration beaded his forehead, and he crunched the card's savagely in his hands. 4 His glance” swept past the crowd as though he saw nothing of their faces. “Another drink, Sam,” he called, the voice He tossed down the glags of liquor as though it were so much water, but no other effort to speak. You couliThear the stfained breathing of the men. “Well,” said Kirby sneeringly, his cold gaze surveying his motionless opponent. “You seem to be taking your time. Do you cover my bet?” Someone laughed nervously, and a voice sang .out over my shoulder, “You might as well go the -whole hog. judge. The Triggers won't be no good without the land ter work ’em on. Fling ’em into the pot —they’re as good as money.” Beaucaire looked up. red-eyed, into the impassive countenance opposite. His lipsf twitched yet managed to make words issue between them. “How about that, Kirby?” he asked hoarsely. “Will you-accept a bill’of sale?”. „ _ • "s "iKirby grinned, shuffling his hand carelessly. ; . . . “Why not? ’Twon't be the first time

I’ve played for niggers. They are worth so puch gold down the river. What have you got?” "I can't tell offhand.” sullenly. “About twenty field hands.” "And house servants?” “Three or four.”' The gambler’s lips set more tightly, a dull gleam creeping into his eyesu“See here, Beaucaire,” he hissed sharply. “Tills is my gamd, and I play square find never squeal. I know about what you’ve got, for I’ve looked tfiefii over; thought we might’ get down to this sometime. I can make a pretty fair guess as to what your niggers are worth. That’s why I just raised you ten thousand and put up the nToney. Now if you think this is bluff, eail me.” “What do you mean?” “That I will accept your niggers as covering ray bet.” “The field hands?” Kirby smiled broadly. “The whole bunch—field hands and house servants. Most of them are old ; I doubt if altogether they will bring that amount, but I’ll take the risk. ThrfA’ in a blanket bill of sale, and we’ll turn up our cards. If you won’t do that the pile is mine as it stands.” Beaucaire again wet his lips, staring at the uncovered cards in his hands. He could not lose; with what he held no combination was possible which would beat him. Yet in spite of this knowledge the cold, sneering confidence of Kirby brought with It a strange fear. The man was a professional gambler. What gave him such recklessness? Why should he be so eager to risk such a sum on an inferior hand? McAfee,- sitting next him, leaned over, managed to igain swift glimpse at what he held, and eagerly whispered to him a word of encouragement. The judge straightened up in his chair, grasped a filled glass someone had. placed at his elbow, and gulped down the contents. The whispered words, coupled with the -fiery liquor, gave hlm-fresh courage. “By heaven, Kirby, I’ll do it!” he blurted out. “You can’t bluff me on the hand I’ve got. Give sheet of paper, somebody—yes, that will do." ■ . ——— He scrawled a half-dozen lines, fairly digging the pen into the sheet in his fierce eagerness, and then signed the document, flinging the paper across toward Kirby. _ . ■ "There, you bloodsucker'.” he cried "insolently. "Is that all right? Will that do?" The I iperturbable gambler read it over sl.iwly, carbfully deciphering each wdrd, his thin lips tightly compressed. "You might add the words, ‘This includes every chattel slave legally belonging to me,’ ” he said grimly. “That is practically what I did say.” “Then you can certainly have no objection to'putting it in the exact words I choose,” calmly. “I intend to have what is coming to me if I win, and I know the law.” Beaucaire angrily wrote in the reqni red- extra-line. • ' “Now what?” he asked. “Let McAfee there sign it as a witness, pile." He smiled, showing a line of white teeth beneath his mustache! “Nice little pot, gentlemen—the judge must hold some cards to take a chance like that.” the words mttered with a sneer. “Fours, at least, or maybe he has had the luck to pick a straight flush.” Beaueaire’s face reddened, and his eyes brew fiard. “ “That’s my business,” he said tersely. “Sign it, McAfee, and I’ll call this crowing cockerel. You young fool, I played poker before you were born. There now, Kirby, I’ve covered your fief ” sc“Perhapi you would prefer to raise it?” “You hell-hound —no! That Is nay limit, awl you know It. Don’t crawl now, or do any more bluffing. Show your hand* —I’ve called you.’k Kifby sat absolutely motionless, his cards lying face down upon the table, the white fingers of one hand resting; lightly upon them, the other arm concealed. He never once removed his gaze from Beaueaire’s face, and his expression did not change, except for the almost insulting sneer on hfe lips. The silence was profound, the deeply interested men leaning forward, even holding their breath in intense eagerness. Each realized that a fortune lay on the table; knew that the old judge had madly staked his all on the value of those five unseen cards gripped in his fingers. Again, as though to bolster up his shaken courage. he stared at the face of each, then fi&ed his bloodshot eyes to the impassive face opposite. “Beaucaire drew two kayards,” whispered an excited voice near me. ' “Hell! So did Kirby,”' replied another. “They’re both of ’em old hands.” The sharp exfiaust of a distant steam .pipe below punctuated the silence, and several glanced about apprehensively. As this noise Beaucaire lost all control over' his nerves.’ “Ccgtne on. play your hand,” he de-

manded, “or I’ll throw my cards isl your face.” The insinuating sneer on Kirby’s lips changed into the semblance of a smile. Slowly, deliberately, never once glancing down at lhe face of his cards, he turned them up one by one with his white fingers, his challenging eyes on the judge; but.the others saw what was revealejl— a ten-spot, a knave, a queen, a king and an ace. “A straight flush!” someone yelled excitedly. “D dis I ever saw' one before!” For an instant Beaucaire never moved, never uttered a sound. He seemed to doubt the evidence of his own eyes, and to have lost the power of speech. Then from nerveless hands his own cards fell face downward, still unrevealed, upon the table. The next moment be was on his feet, the chair in which he had been seated flung crashing behind him on the deck. “You thief!’ he roared. “You dirty, low-down thief; I held four aces—where did you get the fifth one?” Kirby did not so much as move, nor betray even by a change of expression his sense of the situation. Perhaps he anticipated just such an explosion and was fully prepared to meet it. One hand rested easily on the table, the other remaining hidden. “So you claim to have held four aces,” he said coldly. “Where are they?” McAfee swept the discarded hand face upward and the crowd bent forward to look at four aces and a king. “That was the judge’s hand,” he declared soberly. “I saw it myself before he called you, and told him to stay.” " ■ . Kirby laughed—an ugly laugh showing his white teeth. “The h—l you did? Thought you knew a good poker hand, I reckon. Well, you see I knew a better one, and it strikes me I am the one to ask questions,” he sneered. “Look here, you men; I held one ace from the shuffle. Now what I want to know is where Beaucaire ever got his four? Pleasant little trick of you this time it failed to work.” Beaucaire uttered one mad oath, and I endeavored to grasp him but missed my clutch. The force of his lurching body as he sprang forward upturned the table, the stakes jingling to the deck, but Kirby reached his feet in time to avoid the shock. His hand, which had been hidden, shot out suddenly, the fingers grasping a revolver, but he did not fife. Before the judge had gone half the distance he stopped, reeled suddenly, clutching at his throat, and plunged sideways, His body struck the upturned table, but McAfee and I grasped him, lowering the stricken man gently to the floor.

CHAPTER IV. Kirby Shows His Hand. That scene, with all its surroundings, remains indelibly impressed upon my memory. It will never fade while I live. The long, narrow, dingy cabin of the ITtfl(TWarfTof7TtsTTorwaTd’ erfd unlighted and in a shadow, the, single "swinging lamp, suspended Jto a blackened beam above where the table had stood, barely revealing through its smoky chimney the after portion showing a row of stateroom doors on either side, some standing ajar, and that crowd of. excited men surgifig about the fallen body of. Judge Beaucaire, unable as yet to fully realize the exact nature of what had occurred, but conscious of impending tragedy. The bverturned table and the motionless body of the judge, with Kirby standing erect just beyoncl, his face as clear-cut under the glare of light as a cameo, the revolver yet glistening in.; his extended hand, all composed a picture not easily-.•fo^gotteß.--'--''-*'« !r! ’’« Still this impression was only that of a brief instant. With the''next I was upon>my knees, lifting the fallen head, and seeking eagerly to discern some lingering evidence’of life in the inert body. There was none, not so much as the faint flutter of a pulse, or suggestion of a heart throb. The man was already dead before he fell, dead before he struck the overturned table. “Judge Beaucaire is dead,” I announced gravely. “Nothing more can be done for him now." The pressing circle of men hemming us in fell back silently, reverently, the sound of their voices sinking into a subdued murmur. As I stood there, almost unconscious of their presence, still staring down at that upturned face, now appearing manly and patrician in the strange dignity of its death mask, a mad J>urst of anger swept me, a for revenge—a feeling that this was no less a murder because nature had struck the blow. With hot words of reproach upon my lips I gazed across toward where Kirby had been standing a moment before. The gambler was no longer there —hiS place was vacant. “Where is Kirby?” I asked, incredulous of his sudden disappearance. t For a moment no one answered; then a voice in the crowd croaked hoarsely: -* w “He just slipped.out through that after door to the deck —him and Bill Carver.” *. - - .

“And the stakes?” Another answered tn a thin, piping treble. “I reckon them two cusses took along the most ov It. Enyhow 'tain’t yere, ’cept maybe a few coins that rolled under the table. It wasn’t Joe Kirby who picked up the swag, fer I was a watchin’ him, an’ he never onct let go ov his gun. Thet damn sneak Carver must a did it, an’ then the two ov ’em just sorter nat’rally faded away through-that door thar." McAft>e swore through his black beard, the full truth swiftly dawning upon him. “Hell!” he exploded. “So that’s the way of it. Then them two wus in cahoots frum the beginnin’. That’s what I told the jedgfi last night, but he said he didn’t give a whoop; thet he knew more poker than both ov ’em put tergether. I tell yer them fellers stole that money, an’ they killed Beaucaire-—” “Hold on a minute,” I broke in, my mind Reared of its first passion, and' realizing the ■ necessity of control. “Let’s keep cool, and go slow. While I believe McAfee is right, we are not going to bring the judge back to life by turning into a mob. There is no proof of cheating, and Kirby has the law behind him. When the judge died he didn’t own enough to pay his funeral expenses. Now see here; I happen to know that he left two young daughters. Just stop, and think of them. W’e saw this game played, and there isn’t a man here who believes it was played on the square—that two such hands were ever dealt, or drawn, in poker. W’e can’t prove that Kirby manipulated things to that end; not one of us saw how he worked the trick. There is no chance to get him that way. Then what is it we ought to do? Why, I say, make the thief disgorge—and hanging won’t do the business. “Leave this settlement with me. Then I’ll go at it. Two or three of you pick up the body, and carry it to Beaucaire’s stateroom —forward there. The. rest of you better straighten up the

cabin, while I go up and talk with Throckmorton a moment. After that I may want a few of you to go along when I hunt-up Kirby. If he proves ugly we’ll know how to handle him. McAfee!” “I’m over here.” “I was just going to say that you better stay here, and keep the fellows all quiet in the cabin. We don’t want our plan to’ leak out, and it will be best to let Kirby and Carver think that everything is all right; that nothing is going to be done.” I waited while several Of them gently picked up the body, and bore it forward into the shadows. I slipped away, silently gained the door, and, unobserved, emerged onto the deserted deck without. The sudden change in environment sobered me, and caused me to pause and seriously consider the importance of my mission. . Nothing less potent than either fear, or force, would ever make Kirby disgorge. Quite evidently the gambler had deliberately set out to ruin the planter, to rob him of every dollar. Even at the last moment he had coldly insisted on receiving a bill of sale so worded as to leave no possible loophole. He demanded all. The death of the judge, ;of course, had ■ not been contemplated, but this in no way changed the result. might not be altogether unwelcome, and I could not rid my memory of that shining weapon in Kirby’s hand, or the thought that he would have used it had the need arose. Would he not then fight just as, fiercely to keep, as he had to gain ? Indeed, I had but one fact upon which I might hope to base action —every watcher believed those cards had been stacked, and that Beaucaire was robbed by means of a trick. Yet, could this be proven? Would any one of those men actually swear that he had seen a suspicious move?. If not, then what was there left me except a mere bluff? Absolutely nothing.

Knox escapes from the river only to encounter greater danger.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

"There. You Bloodsucker!" he Cried Insolently.

The Revolver Yet Glistening in His Extended Hand.