Nick Carter Stories No. 11, November 23, 1912: Nick Carter Strikes Oil; or, Uncovering More Than a MurderCarter, Nicholas (House name)
General
Nick Carter Stories No. 11, November 23, 1912: Nick Carter Strikes Oil; or, Uncovering More Than a Murder
Carter, Nicholas (House name)
Detective and mystery stories, American -- Periodicals; Popular literature -- Periodicals
“So? Should ha’ thought that mought have scared ye to death.”
“Oh, no, I’m used to things like that.”
“You don’t say!”
“But I’m not used to enemies that spring on a man in the dark without
making any noise of warning. That’s what the panther did.”
“Yes, he’d ha’ had ye, sure, ef I hadn’t been here to fire.”
“It was good luck.”
“Waal, I dunno about the luck of it. I was here on purpose. Been
a-lookin’ fer that critter.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes; the pesky varmint has been worryin’ the life out of us, and
to-night I jest made up my mind that I’d get him. I was pretty dum
certain he’d be on the trail somewhere, fer there’s enough as comes over
it, you know, to give the scent. I thought he’d be watchin’ fer prey,
but I didn’t have no idee that he’d git a chance at any. That’s whar I’m
s’prised., How come ye here, stranger?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Nick answered; “just explain to me first
how you managed to take that shot in time. I heard the beast springing
just as you fired.”
“Why,” said the backwoodsman, “I was waitin’ here, hopin’ the scent of
me would bring the varmint along, and, of course, I wasn’t makin’ no
noise about it.
“Then I heard steps--yourn, you know--and I was wondering about it as
you come down the steep part of the trail.
“Ef you look up at the top of the ledge, thar, you’ll see that the
risin’ moon makes the top line quite clear.
“Waal, I had my gun up, fer I didn’t know but what you might be an
enemy, when, all of a suddent, I saw a black mass on the clear edge of
the rock up thar.
“I knowed what it was, and the thing jumped.
“Thar wasn’t no time to think about it, for I knowed the critter had
spied you and was springin’ fer ye, and I had to fire then, or not at
all. So I blazed while the beast was in the air.
“It was too late to save you from a knockdown, but the critter was dead
when he hit you. Them shots of yours was mighty slick ones, comin’ as
fast as they did, just as ef you was out practicin’ at a target, but
they was good powder and lead throwed away.”
“I can spare the powder and lead,” Nick responded, “and at the time I
couldn’t believe that the panther had been hit in the heart. He was
making a furious struggle.”
“Yes,” drawled the backwoodsman, “it takes them critters some time to
die. But how’d you come here?”
“I was going along the road on horseback when my horse died suddenly.”
“Died!”
“Shot.”
“Gosh!”
“It was meant for me.”
“Huh! Robbers?”
“Perhaps. But they let me alone.”
“Mebbe they knowed you was handy with a gun?”
“I shouldn’t wonder. Anyhow, I had business out this way, so I came
along. I took the trail to save time.”
“So! Business out here, you say.”
“Yes. I’m looking for Hank Low’s place. I presume it’s not much farther,
is it?”
“Hank Low’s! No, it ain’t much farther--’bout two gunshots.”
There was surprise and suspicion in the man’s tone.
“This trail will bring me there, I suppose?” said Nick.
“’Twill if ye follow it far enough.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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