Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 1034) (1897 05 18)
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— nee gy a 5 ts ener a I CTE ha a ‘Gunes = eeerre ll ceriGns Enterea as Second Class Matter at the New York, N. Y , Post Office. Copy: righted 18y7, by BEADL E AND ADAMS, May 13, 1897, Tol. XL a Year. No. 92 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK, 5 cents. \ Ol, AL, | —————— ne ' $2.50 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS. Price, | No. 10 1034. / ©F6161610101610+6+01-61-0+-6104+-01+0+0T0TOT0161+01T0101010161010101610: Serer Gold Wileh’s Stone, sam D+O+0+0+0+0+01+0+01010+0+20- +e +6 b+ @+0+0+6-1 es ttt, os Lp ¢ GY Ad jis ~ : SE PRESENTLY HE HALTED AND SAID ALOUD: “‘SHE HAS TAKEN THIS CANYON AND WE CAN HEAD HER OFF AT THE OTHER END.
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The Gold Wite a on % > pg se bast ark “te Cir ts t The Lone Mascot of Deadman’s Der BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, ” CHAPTER I. THE GOLD WITCH. A MAN was slowly following a trail along a wild canyon in the mountains of Colorado, He was well mounted and armed, and be- fore his horse trotted a dog which he seemed | to place-as much confidence in as a trailer | “ as he did in himself. The man was a fine-looking, muscular young fellow, with an honest face, deeply ae ty bronzed, bearing the look of fearlessness of hi one who had passed his life upon the border. Presently he halted and said aloud, as though speaking to his horse and dog: ‘She has taken this canyon, so we can. head her off at the other end and get a good | jook at her.” “Turning from the trail, he went off ata gallop down the valley. He kept this pace up for several miles; then, turning into a canyon penetrating a xocky ridge, he came out on the other side of arange just where a large canyon running | from the northward cut across the trail. | There he halted for a rest, watered his horse from a brook near and staked him out to feed, while he prepared some food for himself. — This occupied an hour, when he again mounted, riding toward the canyon before | | alluded to. The horseman had not gone very far when he suddenly drew rein with the exclama- tion: i fir F “*There she comes! and isn’t she a dar- ce ’ P ing!’ , ; ‘be one referred to came in sight, but it ‘was hard to decide at a glance just who or what she was, She was mounted upon a splendid animal, as black as ink, but which was without a | —-————sridle. ierely a lariat encircled his neck, one end being coiled and hung over the horn | _of a very odd-looking side-saddle, In front of this horse trotted a large blood- | hound, some fifty paces ahead, and which came toa halt with a savage growl as the | horseman came into view, | - Behind her followed a horse as white as | _ snow—a splendid animal, with a lariat maid f about his neck, and carrying a large pac _ covered over with an india-rubber wrapper, Upon this pack sat a crow and a parrot, apparently enjoying their ride, while a black cat lay coiled up in the center, fast asleep. Behind the horse was a huge dog—a short, - savage-looking brute, indeed, © ut, the owner of this strange outfit ? a It was a woman, evidently, Her years were perhaps fifty; her face was darkly- | bronzed and her hair, iron-gray, fell far down her back in heavy masses. _ Her eyes were dark and piercing, and up- on her face was an expression of cruelty and _ s@unning combined, — «She wore a cavalry officer’s slouch hat en- _ eireled by a stuffed snake to serve as a cord and witha red plume in it, while the brim _ ‘was looped up with an ivory pin representin ¥ a human skull. ; ; _ A soldier’s coat, with epauiettes, a blood- ved velvet skirt, cavalry top-boots with spurs of gold, a sash, and belt of arms completed “her attire, while she carried in her hand a Jong staff, on one end of which was a small scythe as sharp as @ razor, and on the other Piet’ end a saber bayonet, ; my ; With this staff she directed the movements Gold Witch's Shadower: When she beheld the horseman ahead, she said something to the dog, when he at once trotted on as though content with having given his warning growl of possible danger ahead. The young horseman had now halted, and med willing to await the coming of the ange woman and her cavalcade. As she drew near she halted also, waved her stuff several times around her head and saluted in a voice almost startling in its rich, musical tone: ‘* Good-morning, friend.” ‘‘Good-morning, madam!” and the horse- man politely raised his hat “You have been well raised, man, to salute a lady politely. ‘* Which way do you travel?” me ‘Eastward, to the Bronx settlement.” ‘* Art acquainted there?” ‘‘No, madam,” and the horseman coughed, as though trying to keep the fib he told from choking him. ; ‘*T left there yesterday morning, or rather passed through the Bronx Valley.” ‘‘Maybe you know some one there, for I am going to the Dudley Ranch to get a place as cowboy.” “The Dudley Ranch?” “Yes, madam.” “Tt is now owned by other people.” ‘“Yes; I heard that Mr. Sloan had bought a ‘* Your Mister Sloan is Dare Sloan—as yet only a boy. It was hismother who bought the place, Do you know them?’ ‘‘[met Mr. Sloan last year when he was hunting on the plains. J was his guide, and he stopped at my ranch fora couple of months. ‘*But the Indians ran off my cattle, and as I! am in hard luck, I was going to see if I could get a cowboy’s place with him.” ‘* Well, he’s in hard luck, too, for a bank his Shadower, ae | Gold Witch pointed with her strange staff has fuiled that had his money in it, and a | rascally agent who had the Sloan place, in the East, to sell, ran off with the money, so the farm and ranch they bought in the Bronx Valley they can’t pay for, and you'll not get work.” ‘*My, but that’s bad for me, for I need work awful, and I don’t know just what to mG and the cowboy looked unutterably sad. ‘** What's your name?” asked the strange woman, ‘*Buck Brandon, madam. ‘‘T was a Government scout at Fort Bridger, and afterward ac McPherson; but I laid up my money and went to ranchin’, as 1 told you,” ‘* Why don’t you try the mines?” **Do you think there’s money in it?” “**T know it, for I’m from Colorado,” ‘Are you mining?” asked the cowboy, with a look of surprise. 3 ‘Mining? No! calm reply. _ The cowboy started and looked uneasy. “I'm called the Gold Witch, young man, for I can tell when there's gold in the ground by touching it with my staff here. “Tm a fortune-teller, and that’s how I knew all about your friends, the Sloans. “But I’ve got a mine down in Colorado, and the miners come to me when they wish to strike it rich. \ “You go there, for I tell you. there’s money ahead for you, if the Sloans gan do nothing for you. i ‘*Go down to Deadman’s Den, as they call the Valley Camps, and you'll get work, if itis work you want, . ‘Go, I say! When I command, I must be obeyed, ‘Disobey, and I'll curse you!” The woman seemed to besuddenly working herself into a temper, and this mood became infectious, for the two horses neighed, the dogs howled, the raven croaked, the parrot shrieked, and the cat seated on the pack humped its back and wowled, while the I’m a witeh!” was the } boots and broad sombrero, and wore @ belt | pearing to have totally shaven off'a beard, from some cause. assure you it will be asad parting to m “ og “$ directly at the cowboy, who at once shrunk as in terror from her, “T’ll go,” he cried, and wheeling his horse he dashed rapidly away down the canyon , But he soon turned about, watched for awhile to see the woman pass, and then took her trail, following it doggedly for many a long mile, The next day looking very much the worse for a hard ride, and with his horso nearly worn out, he rode up to a ranch and was at once greeted by a handsome woman of forty, who asked eagerly: ‘‘Did you track her, Brandon?” ‘‘T headed her off, Mrs, Sloan, had a talk with her, and she ordered me to go to the mining-camps to find work, for I told her I was coming here to seek a place as herder. | ‘*T started for the camps, as she command- ed, but dogged her to Deadman’s Den mining- camps, and found out that she has a mine in | Echo Canyon, living far away from any one ~ else, and is known as the ‘Gold Witch.’ ’ “You have done well, Brandon; but now I have bad news totell you, for my son writes that the bank has failed where | had my funds, and that we are ruined. ‘‘[ shall pay you your money, for I must now give up this place, and find a home else- where. Mas a x ‘* You return to your old ranch, and when’ | will know Sy ' ih I need you, and need you I shall, I where to find you.” + CHAPTER II. cap , SEPARATE WAYS, the Two men had gone into camp on the ba | of.the Platte River, at a point where one ty _ 5 led to the further West, the Overland trail ” ar California, and the other to the Southw along the banks of the South Platte. They found for themselves & good cant ground, where water and grass were in plenty, and as at their saddle-horns hung jleniy of game, their repast was likely to be lu}. urious. NA y a ? The men rode fine animals, that appea™ to possess speed and endurance oe ed in a nya a remarkable degree, and their equipt of saddles and bridles apparently were'q' Lo new, as though not very longinuse. = ar The horses were staked out, coffee-pot Dee frying-pan were taken from the traps and ; he M fire built. — ‘ me Boul if +h cl ‘Potatoes were put in the fire to roast, a: 0! brought from the river, coffee made 294 @ hoe-cake, and the two sat dow ie substantial supper, te They seemed to enjoy their Ve? pleasantly, then threw u a ee and gathered logs for a fir Sie By ae: “ As they sat there in the glare of the fire. tigns pgs faces and forms were cleatlyre- * veuled, BS a One was of short stature, with a wiry * ‘form, an honest, resolute face, and about —E_- thirty years of age. 7 avis oa REN A Fle was dressed in a hunter’s suit, top. a arms. Rak His companion was tall, elegantly formed for both symmetrical grace and strength, He was attired in a corduroy suit, top-boots, gray slouch hat and was well armed. ness, intelligence and decision. His face was of refined mold, his feature: ye men were beardless—the elder ap. . as perfect as a woman’s, and full of fearless-— Se v ts Both while the tall yourg 4 3 ; iss man’s ayes lip showed — 4 traces of a mustache that ha Be een sacrificed “Well, Dick, to-morrow we part, and’ Never can I forget from what ay, Band friend—a death of infamy upon th — gallows!” f ane And a shudder passed over the form man as he spoke de roe > SP RELL “Twas but an instrument, xu saved m¢ ol ; ay i vi. ’ a il
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The G@ taff | genius and the plotter was a woman, beauti- ) gallows and the night-watchman at the prison nk rse pani. : le ful as an angél, God bless her!” | ‘So say I, for she did save me, with your | aid, | ‘*TJow brave she was to come to the jail, | pretending to be my mother, and I did not } Know the contrary until she drew her deep / mourning vail back and showed me the | ‘lovely face of Miss Dangerfield. | ‘*You know it was my good fortune to | save her life on two separate occasions, and, ) feéling that 1 was innocent of the crime of _ which I was accused, she determined to i act. | “Ihave before told you how surprised I , Was when she handed out files, a rope, ) slouch hat, beard and wig, and told! me to | make my escape that night and go to the ate, where I would meet one who would | lead me to safety.” | ‘And that one was myseif, Dare, who | also can never forget how, the day of the ped you .risked your life and saved ine. ‘“She sent for me, when she learned I was night gate-keeper at the jail, and offered me a bribe of five thousand dollars, while she told me that, under oath, she could assert your innocence, and asked me to help you, as I had no family to hold me there. **T told her that I also believed you inno- cent, so would act on that idea, and not for a bribe. Ibhad some thousands laid by, so “Would give her a check for it, if she would give me the money on it, as, after the es- cape, I would not dare go near the bank in the city to draw out what I had there. “This'she did, and then she bade me give vou the package of twenty-five hundred dol. jars, telling you to take it as a loan. ‘* Well, you escaped, met me, and we got away together, I in the disguise that Miss Dangerfield had bought for me, and I made a pretty good-looking woman, didn’t 1 ay “You did indeed, Dick.” ‘*And you looked wellin your white wig and spectacles, Dare.” ‘*¥es, I almost felt like an old, man, after going bent over for a week, and it is hard now to keep from calling you daughter,” and both laughed at the remembrance. “Well, we escaped, Dick, and I wrote Miss Dangerfield from Omaha, where we changed our characters, for there is no fear of detection now.” '** No, not now.” *‘ And here we part, for I must go on up to the ranch of my friend Buck Brandon, _where my letter, left at our former home, told. me I would learn of my mother’s where- abouts. “You still think you cannot go with me?” ‘7 think it best by far that we should separate, for it will be safer for both of us. ‘7 will ride on to-morrow to the North Platte settlement, and there selling my horse, will take the Overland coach for San Fran- cisco, and from thence go up to the North- ‘west, in Washington Territory, I guess, and go into business; but I will write you under cover to your friend Brandon, of just what } am doing.” “And I know not what I shall do until ‘I see my mother. ‘ “© Of course 1am anxious to prove that /T am not the murderer of poor old Squite Benson; but that must be done through others, not myself, as the risk of being ‘re- taken is 100 great. ‘ ‘‘You have been a true friend to me, Rich- ard Doyle, in the six weeks we have been who had aided his escape, talked on until inte into the night, when they retired to | their blankets, | But they were up at sunrise, had a good | breakfast, and then parted with many ex- | pressions of regret and friendship. | While Richard Doyle went on his way to | where he could take the Overland stage— | then the only passenger service to the Pa- cific Coast—Dare Sloan, who had before been in that part of the country on a camp hunt of several months, followed the trail which | he knew would lead him to the ranch of | Buck Brandon, who had been his guide and hunter on the occasion referred to, and after- ward had been employed on the Sloan Ranch in Iowa, | CHAPTER Iil. THE COWBOY AT HOME. Buck Branpon sat in front of his little cabin-home enjoying his pipe after a late dinner, for he had just’ come from a day’s hunt after game. He was a fine-looking young fellow, who had saved up his money when a Government scout at Fort McPherson and Fort Bridger, and after ‘‘Homesteading” a place in Ne- braska, had bought more land until he was master of a couple of thousand acres. He had selected the spot for his future home when scouting, and had chosen well, Often he had gone there at different times and done a little work, cutting out timber for a log-cabin and fences, and at last, when he had turned ranchero, he had speedily erected his house, put up fences about a gar- den plot and field, and then went after his cattle. He had started well, and his ranch was frequently the resort of hunters and officers who wished to hunt, and thus had Dare Sloan gone there with a young lieutenant from the fort. / When the Indians ran off Buck Brandon’s | cattle and ponies, he had shut up his cabin jand gone Eastward to earn more money | with which to start anew, and had come one night toa ranch, which, to his delight, he found was owned by Dare Sloan and his mother, He had at once accepted the position of herder for the ranch, and held that position as has been recorded, when news came that took Dare Sloan to the East, where he so | nearly came to a sad end at the hands of the hangman. Of the breaking up of her home by Widow Sloan, and her departure for parts unknown, the reader already has been informed. | Buck Brandon had taken what money he | had, and which Mrs. Sloan had paid him for his special trailing of the Gold Witch, and purchasing half-a-dozen ponies and a hun- dred head of cattle had returned to his ranch to once more start out to make a fortune and _ become a cattle king. To his delight he found his cabin had not been destroyed, and the things he had cached were safe and sound, so he quickly had all to rights once more; and, as the In- dians had been driveu further away, he had little fear of another visit from them, So, though alone in his far-away ranch, fifty miles distant from his nearest neigh- bors, he seemed perfectly content. He had brought with him on his ponies ample provisions and stores for the winter, and was preparing game to put away, while he had piled up large quantities of wood about his cabin, to keep him warm when the _ together, fugitives from the law, and I hope | icy winds should blow. some day we may mect again,” and Dare Sloan spoke with deep feeling. His cabin was at the head of a valley, with high hills and timber sheltering it from ‘We will, Dare, and I venture to predict | the north winds, and there was grass in you will yet be proven innocent, although ; abundance, with a brook running by his sentenced under circumstantial evidence that | door. 6 would have hanged any man.” Sheds were there for the cattle should - « Thus the two friends, the fugitive from the , heavy snows fall, and the lone cowboy felt old Witch’s Shadower. that he was prepared against every and any emergency, His cattle sought the shelter of the valley by night, so were of little trouble, while by day they fed along the river-bottoms and out over the prairies, It was while contemplating his comfort and prosperity, that he sat enjoying his pipe, when suddenly he was startled by a loud halloo, at which he sprung to his feet to be- hold a horseman approaching. He had his rifle handy, and waited, for in that wild and then remote land he knew that he. might find a foe in the stranger even sooner than a friend, for lawless men then, as now, were the dread and curse of the set- tler. ‘ “Ho, Buck! bow are you?” called out the horseman as he approached, ‘**Dare Sloan, by the great grizzlies of the Rockies!” cried Brandon, and he hastily went forward to greet his visitor. After his horse.was staked out, and Buck had set about getting something to eat for his guest, Dare asked: ‘* Well, what news, pard?” *‘T guess you know it all, Pard Dare, for there is little I can tell you more than that your mother got your telegram and at once sold out and quit.” ‘*And where gone?” ‘*There’s a letter here for you may tell you, but I don’t know,” and he got the let- ler, “Yes, 1 found a line at the ranch telling me to come to you, and here I am; but my mother did not get my letters, it seems, ag they were at the ranch.” ‘‘ No, for she left at once after receiving your telegram, and I was mighty sorry to hear of your hard luck, Pard Dare, for it’s hard to lose one’s fortune as I know, be it big or little.” * Thank you, Buck; but for myself I do not care, as lam young and can rough it, though it is hard to see my mother come to almost want.” **So it is; but you read your letter, and l’ll go on with my cooking,” 8c Dare Sloan broke the seal to his moth- er’s letter and read: “My Dear Son:— ‘Your telegram warns me that we have nothing to expeet—in fact, that we are little better than beggars, for all we can realize from the sale of what is really our own wiil not amount to two thousand dollars, ‘*T therefore, while you linger in the Rast to sce if aught can be gained from the wreck, will undertake to find a new home and occu- pation here. ‘*T have not decided upon my course, but I have a chance, I think, of doing something that may bring us riches yet. **T leave this letter in the hands of Buck Brandon, who has proven our faithful friend; so when you reach his ranch, await there | until you hear from me, as I will write a letter to the ex-scout to Fort McPherson, as he is known there, and they can direct my courier how to find his ranch. ‘Do not, therefore, leave Brandon’s ranch until you hear from me, even should it not be for months. ‘“With every hope for our prosperous future, and all good wishes for vourself, “Your attached | ‘* Morner,” Such was the letter, and by it Dare Sloan kuew that she had not heard one word of his danger of being hanged in N—— as a murderer! ‘*T am glad of it—glad, now, that she failed to get either my letters or telegrams, for by not doing so she has. been saved so much of anxiety and heartache, ‘** But, where can she have gone? ‘*She speaks of having an idea; yet Buck can tell me nothing about it. ‘*T will question him further, for this sug-.
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TF "4 * Y 7 * - ie EL -—t-~T ie . pense regarding my poor dear mother is by oe no means pleasant. ‘*T say, Buck?” “Yes, Pard Dare.” = ‘*My mother gives me no clue as to where ; she has gone, or as to her purpose, in this hy. letter, so I must see if we cannot put our 4 heads together and find out.” ; **T’ll do all I can to help you, pard.” , ‘‘T know that; but she says I am to wait WEE here until she sends a courier to Fort Pas x! McPherson to find you, and he will bring me + As a letter, through you, telling me what to os ‘‘That’s good, for I’ll have your company . , some time yet.” ‘*I do not care, for certain reasons, to re- main here too long, Buck,.forl am known ~ to think highly of you, and you may be Rad looked up and asked about me.” on “And what then?” “The truth is, Buck, I got into a terrible trouble East, for a man was killed and I was suspected, though I pledge you my word I was not guilty. ‘Now, I had no desire to hang for an- other man’s crime, so came West with all speed,” ~ **T understand, pard, and you were right aan to do so; but no one will ever get any news out o’ me regeaing you. I’m dumb as a jack-rabbit.” ‘“‘] know that, Buck; but I could be very content here if I only knew just what had become of my mother.” “Oh, she’s all right, for, pard, she’s one to é take care of herself under any and all cir- cumstances. ey ‘‘ Why, she’s all business, and don’t you forget it, and she’s no more acquainted with what fear is than—than—well, I. may say “gig and that’s saying a great deal, for [do think you have got more quiet nerve than falls to a man’s lot often.” ‘* Well, I have had a chance to test my nerves of late that I hope never ‘to go through again, Buck,” and Dare Sloan shud- dered at the thought of how near he had been to the hangman’s rope. *T don’t doubt it, pard; but now you; wish to know all I can tell you about your mother, so we'll chat it over while you eat your grub, for I know you are hungry.” “T am, indeed, as I had an early break- ee have been ten hours steady on the trail,” : — + - CHAPTER IV. THE COWBOY’S STORY. Dare SLoAN did not care to make more known than he had to, about himself and his trouble, to the cowboy. That Buck Brandon was true as steel he well knew, but he did not care to burden him with any secret that might be disagreeable to keep, should the rancher be called upon to ‘ tell what he knew about his friend and guest. : He only hoped to hearsoon from his moth- er, that he might join her and the two seek a a hiding-place far away, and free from all pos- Ue ene sible danger of discovery or capture. ; ; He well understood that his mother, for some reason always kept from him,was ready to go anywhere away from civilization, so there would be no trouble about her when she knew that her son’s life depended upon _ the security of their hiding-place. ** Well, Pard Dare, I must tell you from the first, and I’ve had no word not to do so,” began Buck, the cowboy, when Dare Sloan had finished his supper and lighted his eres | oy of _ Cigar. it was dark now and growing chilly. The ponies and cattle had all come into the _-——-walley for the night, Buck’s chickens, of _* which he had brought a dozen, had gone to S roost, and the fire on the cabin hearth burned brightly. / Pas nee . ~*~ Buck had accepted a cigar from Dare, but : f ’ / The Gold Witch’s Shadower. /much as mine.” his mother. “> re said that he preferred a pipe, and really di 80, , Still, he said that he could talk better with a cigar than a pipe, and so lighted it and be- gan his story. ‘Soon after you left, young pard, there came to the ranch the queerest-looking crea- ture I ever set eyes on, ‘She was a woman, with gray hair, dress- ed up in a military coat, a sombrero with a rattlesnake fora cord, and a skull of ivory for a pin to hold up the brim. ‘She had a red-velvet skirt on, top-boots with spurs, and she was a woman to be scared of, and no mistake. ‘‘A belt-of-arms, a long staff, with a crooked knife on one end and a bayonet on other, with a rifle, completed her arma- ment, and she looked loaded for bear, I can tell you, ‘But, that wasn’t all, Pard Dare, for her outfit beat her own looks. ‘ ‘«« She had two as fine horses as I ever saw, one white, one black, and rode the black one without a bridle. “The white horse she used for a pack-ani- mal, and the black beauty she rode. ‘“‘Then there was a pair of the cussedest- looking dogs I ever put eyes on, with a cat that was black as midnight, and a crow— think of that! a regular croaking crow! and a parrot that could cuss and pray in chorus with himself. ‘‘She had a regular tent, and all to make her comfortable, and she went into camp in the valley near your ranch, and after dark waltzed up to see your mother.” ‘To see my mother?” repeated Dare, in amazement, ‘“‘She did, for a fact; and they seemed to be acquainted, though your ma was not pleased by her visit, I judge, for, when the queer customer left she told me she would give me five hundred dollars to go on the old hag’s trail and find her den. ** Maybe you know her, pard?” **T haven't the slightest idea of who the creature can be, **But, did you go?” “*T did, and I tracked her down in Colo- rado.” ‘**To Colorado?” “True; and found that she lives in a mining settlement, or near one they call Deadman’s Den.” ** What does she do there?” ‘Mines and fortune-tells, with a look Pike to find gold for the boys, now and then.” ‘‘And what did she go to my home for?” *“T am sure she went there to see your mother, only.” “You do not ‘know what passed between- them?” “Not a word.” — ‘‘ And you told my mother where the wo- man stopped?” . ‘I did; and she paid me the money, though I did not wish to take it; but she. said I must, and it was that which set me BP, in ranchin’ again, along with what I a xd? “You were right to take it, Buck, for if you accomplished what you went for, you earned it.” : ‘« Well, I made up my mind when I did, if you and your ma had luck go against you, and wanted a home, this would be yours as ‘©You area good fellow, Pard Buck; but which way did my mother go after leaving the ranch?” “She took the Overland coach further west, but I don’t know where she went, and she only said she would send word to you here at my ranch,” Dare Sloan could not understand all that he had heard of this strangqwoman-caller on ‘He could not think who she could be, and what interest she held in his mother, or she trail the strange creature to her homet ‘were sold, and to the manor father and — es OO Dg ~~ Lawy | Dell ple at oace ‘and pos: ‘“‘T can only wait, Buck, until I hear from “My my mother; and Heaven grant no harm has |-gret to § befallen her!” he said, as‘ the two prepared | to turn in for the night, for, having com- | _ pleced his journey, his destination being the | cowboy’s home, the fugitive felt the wear and tear of all he had gone through with ae than he cared to admit, even to him- self. the stranger, that had caused the visit; d then, the sending of Buck Brandon to CHAPTER V. A BITTER BLOW. murder Now let us go back a little, in the order of | dence time, not to account for the presence, at | “Tr Buck Brandon’s ranch, of Dare Sloan, nor to i Se reveal the previous history e mysterious- | Man, J ly absent mother of the young man and the | ‘One-tel strange relations which she evidently was. |. “ H¢ home of Darke Dangerfield and his beauti-- } *rme ful daughter Anita, in Central New York— } S0n’s f the Miss Dangerfield of Chapter H, by |. “A whose remarkable intercession and sacrifices, | bold | made in her father’s absence and wholly | kindré without his knowledge, Dare Sloan had es. impat caped the gallows. ga Darke Dangerfield, returning unexpectedye "em! ly after a long absence in Colorado, Where | you t he had experienced heavy temporary losses, “stand. learned from Anita of the disgrace brought. hensi upon them by the son and brother, and had ied promptly discarded and disowned the reCteant, | prope and criminal. ; who The knowledge of it all hurt the Prond | Sloan man to the heart, and added still #%0ther ~ Sloar sorrow to the calendar of his miseries; for he — had skot and killed, in self-defense, hig neighbor, Henry Sloan—the husband of Dora Dean, the woman to whom the 4Tlgto-. t cratic Dangerfield had once been €Pgaged™ >) but had jilted, in order to marry ® great, ae heiress. he drama of this story. Darke Dangerfield, hurt in fortune and pride, now determined to retire to his paige _ 4 fes Dell Manor estate, unhappily associated as it |) was with the slaying of his neighbor, Sloan; “the and, by good management of the big farm | — and that of an adjoining farm known ag | Elmwood, to regain somewhat of his losses, _ So the town house and its fine furniture _ daughter retired. "ies a . This was the situation when, one morning a town carriage drove up to the manor house door and from it a stranger dismounted. He had the air of a business Man, and the: card he sent. in to Darke Dangerfield bore — on it; \ +3 FRANK STONE, Pe Attorney-at-lan.” Darke Dangerfield entered the room with | — surprise to know what his visitor could = | _ want. a ae ler e = He owed not dollar in the world, and owned the Dell estate, while Elmwood farm, which he was working ss to the ol friend of the Sloan family, Judge Verd and so no legal matters were outstandin, against him, and he naturally thought: He has come on account of that wicked — boy, Dean, I feel certain.” nen
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eS ee . Lawyer Stone greeted the master of Daisy Dell pleasantly, and Darke Dangerfield saw at once that his visitor was a gentleman ‘and possessed a very pleasant manner. *“My visit to you, Mr. Dangerfield, I re- - -gret to say, is an unpleasant one, for it bodes you no good,” said Mr. Stone. d Dangerfield merely bowed and | asked Darke Dangerfield. she | nerved himself to hear the worst. _ “T am the attorney, sir,” continued the | say, for the sale to you was a fraud,” was lawyer, ‘‘of the Benson estate, that is, of the | the low but distinct response of the lawyer. - | Property left by the murdered Squire Ben- *“ Now Squire Benson, you remember, was | murdered by a distant kinsman, so the evi- of | dence showed, by the name of Dare Sloan.” ‘‘T remember, sir.” ‘The squire was known to be a very rich is~ | Man, yet no one suspected his wealth to be | prehend that he had married an heiress to, “One-tenth of what it really is. _| “He was a quiet man in his way, an old | woman he had given up, Dora Dean, was 4) bachelor, and lived in a rookery several miles | now the mother of a son who, did he dare “His nearest relative was a lady by the ie of Dora Dean, afterward the wife of a | ed of being! ner, Henry Sloan. She was Squire Ben- ‘S0n’s first cousin.” “} “And, may | hold interest y | Kindred?” as impatiently. “Tam coming to y *-imgeod time, Mr. Dan you to understand just how matters legally | and finding her among her flowers, said: -| stand, so that all will be of easy compre- sir, in what way do I n Squire Benson’s will and rke Dangerfield somewhat aterest in the case | pained to have to tell her bad news.” field; but I wished “Now, Squire Benson left in his will all property belonging to him, to the very man who is said to have taken his life—Dare | Sloan, his second cousin and the son of Dora | selves, you and I, so prepare to hear bad | Sloan, who was Dora Dean. ‘‘He made his willin favor of this young | man, ‘thenin parts unknown,’ sothe will read, | but who was to be looked up by his execu- | ‘tors, and the fortune given entire into his & f op Sif not found in five years, then the | beauty of the maiden he had to wound. | “property was to go to founding and endow-- ing a charity hospital in, or near N-—., _ “If his heir was dead, the property was to , go to the same object, less a certain sum in | bad news for us.” ~} bank, which was to go to the support of his ~) consin, Dora Sloan, provided she had not | field,” and he went on to tell her just what -} married again; and in case of her marriage | he had made known to her father, } -or death, it was to go to charity.” ‘*This does not interest me in the least, sir,” said Darke Dangerfield, severely. , sir, ITcome to a part that will in- ‘terest you,-and, I regret, not pleasantly. | _ “Tn his will, Squire Benson left a perfect | for both men diced at the same time, or with- | list of all of his riches, real estate, and per-. sonal, and moneyed, and he also made a con- “That confession was regarding his bro- _ ther, who died, a few months after the squire’s | forged deeds, of the two estates and other } murder, in the | the reach of the law. _ ‘This brother, so reads the confess - forged certain deeds and “hold the Daisy Dell tract the estate of Elmwood as other lands in and ar —and thus coverin er of Dora Dean, - This forgery of title left the mother and | gave her a thousand Collars or so, and that ehter of Ezra Dean penniless, as it were, ife of Ezra dying soon after, Dora was alone in the world, and married Henry | difficulties, Rufus Benson sold Daisy Dell est, and so is now beyond papers, claiming to. of land, then, also, Hall, as | possession of his property with no knowledge ound the town the farm of the The Gold Witch’s Shadower, EE EEE Sa SS 4 ? : ae Then he tried to make amends all in his | brother's rascalities, but suspecting all, upon ‘power by naming the son of Dora Dean his ) his return, kept quiet until Rufus Benson heir, and, by a strange judgment, he was as- | made his confession.” sassinated by his heir, who now, a fugitive ““Then we do not own Daisy Dell Manor, from the gallows, cannot enjoy his vast | or its belongings?” queried Anita with the estates,” utmost calmness. - ; ‘** But my claim upon Daisy Dell?” buskily ‘* Not the mansion and lands, no; but the furniture, your farm utensils and stock, yes, The sale of the real estate being fraudulent, all lands go to the heir of Squire Benson.” “Dare Sloan?” quickly asked Anita, «é Yes.” \.. “* And he is away.” “And dare not return to claim his vast wealth—Elmwood Hall, you know, being also included with other properties belonging to the two estates; and a very large fortune besides, that Squire Benson was the possessor oe Hen he was a millionaire, Miss Danger- eld.” “And his heir is a fugitive millionaire!” bitterly remarked Darke Dangerfield. ‘Yes, a fugitive from the gallows, sir, and therefore, the hospital, after five years, will get the entire property.” ‘‘Not if Mr. Sloar’ should prove he was not guilty of the murder of Squire Benson, , and should return?” ‘‘In that case he could step into the imme- diate possession of his riches, and, for his own sake, I only ae that he could; but the evidence was too positive against him,” “‘ Circumstantial evidence, sir, only, and that frequently. hangs the innocent man,” was Anita’s response. “True, very true; but Mr. Dangerfield, I have stated the situation exactly, sir, and I wish you would refer me to your lawyer,that he may look into the full merits and demerits, and see if there is not some plan by which he can saye you, though I tell you frankly I see none. ‘*T was appointed by Mr. Benson, execu- tor, with two others, but my absence in Europe prevented the matter coming up sooner, though 1t was known generally that Dare Sloan was the heir, ‘*T looked the whole matter carefully over, and really hoped, under existing circum- stances of a fugitive heir and a charity hos- pital as a dernier resort, to. find some crumbs of comfort for you and your daughter, ‘But I could: not, and yet, I will be most happy to consult with your lawyer.” ‘Judge David Verdan, sir, of N——, is my lawyer; and I thank you for your kind- ness in the matter.” ‘* Judge Verdan is an interested Mal also, “You have no claim upon it, I regret to CHAPTER VI. THE LAWYER’S REVELATION. For a long while the lawyer spoke no word, for he saw that Darke Dangerfield fully comprehended the situation. And Darke Dangerfield certainly did com- in the end, come down to poverty, while the come to claim his inheritance, was tenfold richer than he, Dangerfield, had ever dream- At length he rose and said: ‘*Mr. Stone, I think I understand the situ- tion, but I wish my daughter to hear all you have said, and more that 1 would learn from you,” ‘* Certainly, Mr. Dangerfield; and I am Darke Dangerfield went for his daughter, * Anita, my child, come with me, for I have a visitor, a lawyer, who has certainly brought us most unwelcome information.” ‘* Brother Dean?” cried Anita, “Tt is not of that scamp: it concerns our- news,” ‘‘T am ready, sir,” was the calm response, and Anita accompanied her father into the library. ‘‘My daughter, Mr. Stone,” and the law- yer bowed low, struck with the exquisite Anita returned his salutation and took a seat near, while she said: ‘** My. father tells me, sir, that you have * “Tam sorry to say I have, Miss Danger- “And may I ask, sir, how this interests us?” she asked. ‘‘The assumed sale of Daisy Dell, and of Elmwood, by Mr. Ezra Dean ana Hoanry I find, for he bought the Elmwood Hall place ‘Sloan, Sr., to Rufus Benson, was a forgery, from the fraudulent agent, Loyd Lucas, so he will try hard to find some flaw to save him- self as well us you.” Lawyer Frank Stone had shown himself to be so gentlemanly and sympathetic that he was urged to remain to dinner at the Dell, and Mr. Dangerfield said he would then, drive him into the town to see Judge Verdan, The hack was then dismissed with a note to the judge asking him to be at his office at_ a certain hour, and Lawyer Stone remained at the manor. Anita did not show what she felt by look or word, and was as pleasant as though pov- erty was not staring them in the face. ‘ me she saw her father and Lawyer in a few days of each other, while the wife of Henry Sloan, Sr., was dead, and Mrs, Ezra Dean soon followed her husband, so that Benson was the possessor, through his lands in and about N—— belon two men whose heirs he thus ¢ their just inheritance. **Dora Dean, the daughter, he left penni- ss, and Henry Sloan, Jr., found himself in g to the d out of of the claim, forged though it was, that Rufus Benson held upon it. , ‘He, tojet a real quit claim from Dora, 1S drive away together, she broke down and threw herself upon the library sofa and burst into tears. ; j CHAPTER VII. TOMELESS, ‘Tr was late when Anita heard the roll of the carriage-wheels upon the gravel before the mansion, ht ; She had become calm again, and assuming a cheerful demeanor, greeted her father as sare d by Judge Verdan — He was accompanied — udge Verdan — d ibawver Stone, mhoted: returned as hig _ guests for the night, 5 gave him her signature to his forged deeds. _ ** Before/going West, as he was in financial
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> -etthiees tative a = AN ee es > EGE Lae hc aed 5. ey igh By Lawyer Stone was a thorough business be man, and bad come prepared for every emer- gency that might arise, so that much delay n was prevented, mis.’ Supper was served, and the best wines | M were brought forth, after which the three gentlemen discussed matters over their ci- gars, ) The conclusion arrived at was just what Lawyer Frank Stone had known throughout —the estates would have to be given up. ‘*Well, Anita, we are poor now,” said | Darke Dangerfield, with a sad smile, the next morning, as all met at breakfast. “We certainly have plenty of company, father, in that respect,” was the cheerful reply, and all admired the courage and spirit of the beantiful girl in adversity, ; Darke Dangerfield accompanied the law- yers into N , when they left, and re turned late. . He looked pale and haggard when he en- tered the library, and, throwing himself into | a chair, said gloomily : «Well, my child, it is all settled, and I , will tell you how, for Lawyer Stone was most kind throughout.” ¥f ‘* He certainly appeared so, Mytyer.” “Yes. and proved himself so, “All [ paid for this place is a dead loss, of course; but we have the furniture left, our silver, carriages, horses and stock. : ‘‘Then there is a great deal of provender on the place, and a quantity of wines in the cellar, but not half what I expected, «s your—Dean Dangerfield made way with them, as you doubtless have learned. ‘IT made today a rough estimate, my dear, and as we stay here until spring, we ean sell out by degrees, and should have at least ten thousand in cash at the lowest figures. ‘This will keep us from want; but you remember the letter I received two fays ago from my old partner in the Colorado mines?” : ** Yes, sir.” ¢ ‘* Well, he wrote me that his health was so broken that he would give me his share in the mine for six thousand dollars. “It is beginning to pay, he states, and if he was able to work it himself there is a good deal of money in it for us both. So I will buy him out, and while you can goto the city to live, I will go to the mines of Colorado and dig us out another fortune, for | am determined that you shall a be an heiress, oF chiid,” and Darke angerficld smiled sadly. Bae) ASA ** Father, J will not leave you, but go to ai the West with you,” | -* You, Anita—you, reared in the lap of luxury, born with a silver spoon in; your ay mouth, as tbey say, go to that wild land?” _eried her father in amazement. . “Yes, sir, for you must -&kpow that the “hae school where I'gracuated re something else than what could be learned by books. «We were taught how to keep house, és Clean bouse, cook, wash, iron, and all that ot was usefnl, and I flatter myself I could get a good place now as housekeeper, while, if it Game to the worst, even do she work of a- Pees kitchen girl. ae te. _ ** Now, you have said that you never saw _ a belter rider than I am, and a ten-mile walk Treatly enjoy. " “*As a fisherwo and with shot-g ‘Why, I really enjoy the idea, for I can keep house, or rather cabin; I can hunt and fish to supply the table, and you can dig gold in the mines! ‘‘T think we will both be real happy, father, so don’t talk of leaving me be- hind, unless you wish to make me utterly wretched.” She went to her father as she spoke, and, leaning over the back of his chair, kissed him, while she toyed with‘his dark curls, just turning gray. © ‘* Why, you are not so old, father; for see! gray hairs are scarce, and you don’t look a day over forty. if so old. “T'll find it hard to make folks believe you really my father.” And Anita laughed lightly. It was hard for Darke Dangerfield, strong man that he was, to keep back the tears that welled up into his eyes, and for a moment he could not speak. Then he said, earnestly: ‘* Anita, my child, you are as brave a little woman asl ever saw, and I am blessed in ‘having such a daughter. ‘Tt really makes me a better man to know that you are my child. ‘“«T believe with you that it is best for you | to go, for, though the work may be hard, I know we will be the happier for it if to- gether. “‘T will write at once, accepting Gardi- ner’s offer, and we will be on the field for action with the early spring.” *And so it was decided, and neither father nor daughter were crushed by the cruel blow which through the fraud of others had swept from them their riches. CHAPTER VIII. THE GOLD WITCH AT HOME. In the solitudes of Colorado, there is a can oe still known to-day as the Den of the Gold Witch, It was also called, at the time of which I write, the Gold Witch’s Canyon, and then there was no dwelling-place even an humble eabin or mining-camp, within many miles of it. The canyon penetrated a ridge of lofty mountains, wild, rugged and desolate, ,and opened into a valley through a rocky gate- way hardly forty feet in width; in fact it was hardly more than a chasm, the walls of rock towering on either side a couple of hun- dred feet above. Entering this chasm one would go over a rocky trail which could not be ridden or walked over except ina slow walk, and ex- tended for several hundred feet into the ridge, where it suddenly turned to the right, giving an observer the idea that the canyon ended there. ; But, once aroynd this turn, and though th sides were rocky cliffs, the canyon spre out into considerable width, and formed a fertile valley, watered by a stream that came tumbling down over the mountain ridge some three hundred feet above. This brook ran through steep banks, after falling into the basin of the valley, and sought an outlet under the walls of cliff on the other side, bounding into a huge cavern and disappearing from sight. At one place only was the brook fordable, and even there it was deep and the swiftly flowing current dangerous to any one who did not know exactly how to head in cross- ing, for a few steps one way or the other would canse a horse to lose his footing, and a ey. , Lam always lucky, in and rifle I excel, as you have said, while you remember how I shot the panther that was about tospring upon by Mrs, Slonn that day in the graveyard, and the beast was a large and savage one, rendered dangerous from having been two weeks free from his cage in the menagerie from whence __. he had escaped, you know. “Pera _.- “T did not lack for nerve then, and I will ---—- mot again when the time comes. steep banks of rocks and thence on into the cavern beneath the mountain to death. Beyond «this crossing the canyon was & lovely valley, with groves of trees, meadows Pan A 7 | moss, and several blankets, with a in an instant he would be swept between the | = ‘* he minin man’s Thi , d or hat spring at the canyon’s head, a small brooklet a 8 s the c: there, and altogether the spot was a charming) with peal roe euttir Hardly more than mile in depth, at the fur-} destr ther end of the canyon, sheltered by huge) place rocks, a grassy mound and a grove of trees A was a cabin, built against the face of the) from cliff that towered far over its roof, dwe} The cabin was some twenty feet long, by} orna: twelve in depth, standing endways to the) excit cliff, and a doorway in the outerend, There} the x were two windows in the inner-room, but 10) poss door, and one window in the outer-room, T) Along the cliff, within a few yards of the} pot ; cabin, was a shelter, as for horses in bad] the 1 weather and all in all, it was a warm and}! valle snug retreat. rie ee Ute: Down in a meadow near was a yegetable| — etg, garden; chickens roamed about the rocks af a will, and a black and a white horse—both | ‘superb animals—were cropping grass not far distant. Ona perch by the side of the door sai raven, and on the back of a rustic seat. was. parrot, while a huge black cat was sunning val herself upon a rock near by, fe y3 ofr Lying upon the top of a natural mound, tha from the summit of which a view of the can- gol yon to its mouth could be seen, was an enor- can mous dog. He was not asleep, seeming 10} ont be on duty, as his eyes were Ton teh “sca before spoken of. cor A hammock of dry grass swung between | =’ two trees near the cabin, and in it was a ch human form, while a dog lay asleep near tai Ys. ; , ree in The door of the cabin was Open, and | ~ ye through it could be seen that the interior | gy was by no means uncomfortable. of There was a large fireplace on 0 side, | and shelves with cooking utensils and dishes, | py with a table in the center of the room, 3} ke Shelves on cither side of the window, qp~ | yw posite the fireplace, contained books, papers, |” tl specimens of rocks, and a number of odds | _ and ends picked up about the mountains, == sy There was a rack holding a repe®'Mg-rifle | j, and shotgun, and several revolvers and a |; knife hung in holsters near, ay Ba Sa le A large chair, cushioned with moss and | , most comfortable, was by the side of the table, and completed the furnishing of the room, : Sis FA Opposite the entrance door waS @notliey, a. very narrow one. It led into the sleeping- room of the occupant of the cabin, but was | | closed. ' eof Sep tas Had it been open, it would have revealed a room of the same size as the Other, and — with two windows, but of course wiih fo | glass in them. ae Hi eee A rude matting covered the floor, made of | the long valley grass, a few shelves, an | — easy-chair, and against the rear walla bunk, | or berth, like those in a ship’s cabin, Necy BAY The bed therein was home-made, evider ly, for it had a canvas mattress stuffed ee By c pa t that matched the mattress. 7 pe va |. The bunk was rather high, and was fitted strongly against the log wall of the cabin, — and arranged with some attempt at urna- | mental curtaining. sis ALR The one who was resting, or asleep, in the — hammock outside was the sole occupant of this solitary abode in a Colorado canyon. =} As she arose from the hammock, a glance was sufficient to show the reader one whom. he has met before. ©2050) te half-barbarous attire r Her half-military, vealed the mysterious woman known as 4 Gold Witch, and she was at home, ; ees Sy IY tg CHAPTER IX. -_ DEADMAN’S D Some fifteen miles from w Gold Witch in her lonely cabin | yon, was a valley in which Ww
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>, te PP. Ri: The Gold Witch's Shadovrer. Ee eer ET RN NS Sa Slo Ce em ——————— AS Na AR y = Are ; a Mas ee ~ —— aetna ES ST a | © % mining-camp known ty the title of Dead- | something they could point to with pride as | ‘And yours, sir?” erhung “man’s Den. their own work. | * Burt Henry, of Virginia.” f This valley was a beautiful one to look at, |” ‘Of course they had to furnish the material | The two men were the forger and scape- rom 2) or had been when in its natural beauty, but | for their ‘‘Bonery,” as they called it, but} grace Dean Dangerfield, and his partner in rooklet the cabins of the miners seattered about it, | with those wild spirits this was an easy | rascality Henry or Hal Burton, They had wming) with a group of houses in one part, and the | matter, and the grayéyard wag opened with | metamorphosed their names to plexse |hem- cutting down of timber here and. there had destroyed the picturesque loveliness of the place. A legend explained that it had its name from the fact that a tribe of (Ute Indians once dwelt there, and who were known to wear ornaments made out of beaten gold, which excited the envy of other tribes who went on he fur- y huge f trees of the ng, by ie lo the ‘cheglbe the war-path to drive the Utes out and tuke - ®) possession ofithe valley themselves, of th This ‘*drivingout” process, however, had nY had 4 not seemed to have worked well, to judge by | the number of skeletons scattered about the nand| valley of hostile warriors slain in battle or ot Utes defending their homes aud gold pock- etable | ets. ie he - The trail through the vale was studded With these grim relics of death, and graves “unmarked and unknown were here and there in unpleasant frequency to remind one of the vend of man. _ There was yet another legend about this Valley, to account for its name, that a bahd of road-agents, under a noted chief, had heard that the Indian dwellers there knew of secret gold-mines and that this road-agent chief be- ot fa *nor-) came their pretended friend, gave them pres- ie ents wad) dec them-on the war-path after the scalps of white settlers, thus gaining their confidence, veen Then, he and his men had given their aS 2 chiefs and leading warriors a grand enter- hear) tainment ard the result was a general poison- ing, alter which the outlaws set upon the and) ~ yemnant of the Indians, the old men, women mil and children, and drove them in dismay out ' of the valley. ide, The bodies of the poisoned chiefs and 1S, | braves were left unburied, to become food as for wolves, while the outlaw band set -to a. *\" “From them it received the appropriate name of Deadman’s Den. | Working “the hills, mountains, water- - gourses and canyons, the hardy miners found ' gold, and Deadmau’s Den developed into - what, in mining parlance, was called a city, and Deadman’s City was as often applied to ‘the settlement as was the name of Den. ’ ? ss ‘back on the bills, and a score or more grouped together at a central point, ing froma pick to drugs, and a dozen ons which were also gambling-dens as In Deadman’s Den, or ‘‘Den City,” as also -was called, there were, perhaps, four hun- dred souls, or an average of that number, for one week ‘‘sudden death” wouid reduce the population by a score, and the next a few new arrivals would come in and add to it so to keep up the average. ; a Pr Not satisfied with a wore of burying-places at already started, the Deadman’s Den inhabit- Ay At the latter there were several alleged nts set about making one all for themselves, |‘ Dan Fie a dozen victims as a starter. This will give a faint idea of the lawless- ness of Deadman’s City, and when the hotels, stores and saloons got to going at full blast, and the miners found gold in paying quanti- ties, the valley settlement became @ lively place for all who made it their home. ~ Such was Deadman’s Den when, one fter- noon, the weekly coach rolled into th » val- ley, and drawing wp before the door of the principal hotel, known as the ‘‘ Pards’ Para- dise,” deposited two travelers who appeared a little out of the usual run of the visitors to the valley. They were dressed more like city sports- men, who had come West for a hunt on the plains, or in the mountains, than like miners or bordermen, and their appearance indicated that they were not wholly ‘‘at home” in that wild conntry. Pat Leech, the proprietor of the Pards’ Paradise, had a strange register, for it was nothing more than a board in which the month was cut at the top, and beneath it the words: “PrugRims to Parps’ PARADISE.” Then followed the names of the ‘‘pil- grims” who had been guests during the month, all neatly cut into the wood—in fact, carved most skillfully by a young man who made his living in Deadman’s Den by just. such work, carving headboards and signs, Each month's tablet was laid aside, so that Pat Leech bad something to look back to when he wished to discover any particulur guest who had enjeyed, or suffered, his hos- pitality, esthe case might be, for the pro- prictor of Pures’ Paradise was a leech by na- ture as well as by nanie, though the miners bad made a saint of him, calling bim ‘Saint Patrick”? on uccount of his very pious ex- pression, which hid a very devilish heart be- neath, The two new-comers were met by Saint Pat, as the miners abbreviated the “name, and welcomed, while he took them in at a glance, \ ; - “Here, Penknife Pete, register these gents’ names, while I shows ’em to tha’r campin’- plaice. Yer names, gents!” and Saint Pat turned to his guests with what he meant for a winning smile. The ohe addressed as Penknife Pete was the wood carver, and a better picture of a poet in distress, one who had descended to tramping, could not be found, He wore his hair long, a Mephisto-like mustache and a coat which looked as though it might buve done service in a Presbyterian pulpit; buttoned up to his chin, He had « high hat, around which had been to | placed as a hat-band,.a strip of wood into ent a , | which had been cut the words, showing dis- The ‘city ”” consisted of a string of | tinctly with the black hat for a background: - eabins, some along a water course, others | “PENKNIFE PETE, ‘* ARTIST.” His slender waist was encircled by a belt in which were stuck his carving utensils, and ‘he was the only man in Deadman’s Den who did not wear revolvers and a bowie, for if he ‘did they were not in sight. His parts were stuck into top-boots, and if Penknife Pete had any other property save | what he carried about him no one had found it out. In a “hark from the tombs” sort of voice, deep and sepulchral, he asked: ‘) ‘Your names, gents, and whar from?” The two men lookéd at each other meaning way and then one said: d, of New York.” aN ina selves. os Se CHAPTER X. STRANGERS IN DEADMAN’S DEN. | AFTER his having forged his father’s name | to a check, to get twelve thousand dollars, Dean Dangerfield dared not scek the father he had so wronged and disgraced , His sister, Anita, as we have al ready stated, had paid off his note atthe bank in N ee also forged, and also settled his numerou ‘ta. debts, so that left him safe from arrest and ~~ prosecution. Then be had been well fitted out for his Western trip, for she had seen no reason Why he should not go to join his fa- ther, who was then in the West, working his mining prceperties. _ But, Dean Dangerdeld had no idea of be- ing set to work in the mines; nor did he in- tend to go West with the money he had ob- tained from his sister through assuming to owe it to Henry Burton for a loan which Burton had made him. He wanted still more, so that, with his chum Burton, his ally in crime, deception and forgery on his own aunt.and the large sum they thus actually had between them, they could laugh at misfortune snd lead a wild life, Dean had no thought that his own father would prosecute him about the forged check, and ull of his other deeds he had, as he sup- posed, covered up. But, Hal Burton was well aware that his own old aunt would send him to prison for forging her name, even bad he been her own son, so he knew that he must keep in hiding. The two had changed their names, as has been seen, stopped over in Chicugo for a couple of days, and in a gambling den there, lost considerable of their crime-gotten money, . Then another halt had been made in Omaha, and there, too, they had bad Juck, | so they had decided to strike for the mining + country Withan iden that they could play ; their markea@ cards upon the innocent miners and make a fortune for each of them, With a couple cf thousand dollars in. his boot-leg, and a few hundreds in his pocket, ‘ the unworthy son of Darke Dangerfield and \ Hal Burton, (the latter also keeping some money hidden from his friend, and thus each deceiving the other) started by coach for Denver and thence to the mines near Dead- man’s Den. Ve On the way they were halted by rond- agents und, in spite of all their, blusteras to what they would do under such circum- , stances, simply handed over the movey in their pockets, chuckling the while that they had saved that which they had hidden in ~ their boots, ) aA | wed They traveled as ‘‘ gentlemen,” hyvting and going about for pleasure in the West, and their outfit would carry out this ass mp- tion, y Ce MS a, They were a little taken aback upon sitive ing at Deadman’s Den to see that they had ogi ® not created any very great excitement, — ee The ‘‘innocent” miners did not seem as impressed as the two young adventurers had, expected they would be. nt Ly But, they followed the he landlord to alog .— : eabin in the rear of the hotel, which hada = “ * shooting-jackets, — ! ee 4 : é
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The Gold Witch’s Shadowér hats, handsome cavalry boots, and belts of arms. This done, they sallied forth to view the ‘‘town,” and asked Saint Pat for a key to their cabin as they passed out through the **hotel,” ‘*Key be durned! Ef yer catch anybody goin’ inter yer cabing, or comin’ out, shoot him, that’s all, for nobody hes got any biz thar, pards, and we don’t lock up in this kentry. We only shoots ther thief.” ‘*A queer country, Burt,” concluded his chum, ‘« Yes, not such fools, Dan, as we took ’em for,” returned Burt Henry—as we now must eall him and his companion by their bor- rowed names. There was a look about Deadman’s Den and its denizens that impressed the two strangers with an idea that they would not like the place; but their money would not last them if they ran around all the time and did not add to it, so they must see what was to be done there before pulling up stakes and decamping. Upon their return to the hotel, they found their names most skillfully carved into the wooden register; in fact, Penknife Pete had surpassed himself. “Like it, gents?” he asked, as the board was hung up for inspection, ‘Tt is beautifully done,” declared Dan Field ‘‘ Indeed it is, sir; you are an artist,” added Burt Henry. “I knows I are a artist, pard; but who pays for this?” “The landlord, of course.” ‘*Ther landlord pays fer nothin’; his biz are ter take pay.” ‘«Ts 't to be paid for?” asked Dan, “Now does | look hke a man who worked fer love o’ my feller-citizens?” Their question was answered, and as they saw acrowd gathering they decided to pay, so Dan Field asked: ** How much?” ‘*¥ive dollars,” He handed it over and they were turning away, when the artist called out: ‘*Pard, you 1s forgetful.” “*Me?” asked Burt Henry. “« Yas, you hain’t paid me.” “* Was not that pay for both?” “*Pard, does I look like a fool?” Whatever were Burt Henry's thoughts, he did not utter them, but handed out five dol- lars with a sigh, while Penknife Pete re- marked; ‘If yer tarns up yer toes here, gents, I'll make a liberal discount in carvin’ yer head- boards, and I’}] cut in a leetle angil. climbin’ across on’em free for nothin’, fer 1 hain’t got no mean streak in my body.” - The two friends were not so pleased with this act of generosity as Penknife Pete had seemed to expect them to be. ; Saint Pat now called them to supper and they were glad to sce that whatever the other shortcomings of Deadmans Den, the table of the Pards’ Paradise was ceriainly a good one, as far as it could be so distant from any place where delicacies,could be ovtained. _ But, if Saint Pat set an excellent table, he charged accordingly—as the young men soon _ discovered. . After, supper the two guests being invited to indulge in the only amusement in the place, that of gambling, they adjourned to the saloon adjoining the hotel, and which was also owned by Patrick Leech. There was a rude ‘‘tuble of chance” there, and many small tables where card-players could enjoy a game together, while a bar stretched across one end of the large room. “Tobacco-smoke,’ a cursing, loud-talking crowd, and the fumes of liquor filled the ~ toom.as the two young men entered with the landlord, who at once picked out for “them two partners for a game of cards, ‘These partners were honest miners, whom / the landlord knew would. play a square game, for fe did not wish to frighten the strangers off by pitting them against some of the terrors of the place at. once. ~ The revenue’to the landlord was so much for each game played, and the table of chance was generally sure to win for him nine times out of ten, so Saint Pat, as he put it, never ‘‘ got left.” Those present glanced at the strangers as they entered, and several side remarks were overheard, such as: ** Pigeons to be plucked!” ‘‘Tenderfeet that will have to pan out lively.” The table at which the two strangers were seaied was up near the bar, where Saint Pat could have a good view of all that took place, Of the strangers Dan Field won steadily from the start. He was playing partner with one of the miners; but, though Burt Henry and the other lost, neither seemed to mind it until Field suggested: ‘* Perhaps you would play better together, so suppose we change partners?” This was done and the strangers were pit- ted against the miners, and the stakes soon became heavy, But the luck of Dan Field clung to him, where that of his former partner deserted him, ; At length quite a sum ef gold was gather- ed in front of the strangers, who seemed elated with their luck, and the miners drew out. f Others took their place promptly, but the luck of the strangers could not be broken and they continued te win. Thea their opponents gave it up and two more took their places. These two were noted as the luckiest men in the camps, but their good fortune seemed te desert them when pitted against the woke she and after losing heavily one said; ‘I guess you is reg'lar card-sharps, pards, for, somehow, yer seems ter hev your way 1n winnin’,. We quits.” As they rose from the table a voice that wus strangely low and musical said: “Tlf play you both, gentlemen, so see if your luck holds good against me.” All turned quickly and the strangers seem- ed fairly to start, for the one who addressed them was @ woman! She had entered the saloon, unnoticed in the excitement the game with the straigers had caused, CHAPTER XI. PUT TO THE TEST AND UNMASKED] “THe Gold Witch!” Such was the low murmur that ran around the gambling-saloon as the woman stepped forward after saying, in 2 voice whose musi- cal tones certainly belied her appearance, that | she would play against the luck of the stran- gers, had become a dweller in the solitary canyon miles from Deadman’s Den! But, she was known to every man in the camps and most thoroughly dreaded by one and all. Many believed her possessed of supernatu- ral powers, but there were numbers who sought her aid in finding gold for them and paid her large sums for the favor. By some mysterions way, known only to herself, the Gold Witch more often hit a gold lead than not, and so held her influence. To play against her at cards, the miners found that it was simply throwing money away. She always won. But there were few who dared refuse her invitation to play when she singled them out as a victim, although they knew the conse- quences. | It was in reality the strange woman who | Witch won, )cthd wed The miners laughed and the two strangers — | The visits of the Gold Witeh to Dead- man’s Den were semi-mentbly, but just when to expect her no one knew. She might come twice in one week—two days in suecession—and again onee and miss a week; but she never put in an appearance more than twice in the month, Now as she appeared in the saloon all were startled. They always were startled whem she came, and now all glanced from the Gold Witch to the strangers with considerable interest, for they saw that the two young men were singled out by the woman for her vietims. Both Dan Field and Burt Henry looked confused. : The woman stood gazing at them with ber piercing eyes, seeming to read their very thoughts. P She wore her strange attire, of short red ~ velvet skirt, top-boots and spurs, military jacket and slouch hat, with the grim death’s- head pin and stuffed-snake cord. Then she was armed, as they saw, and car- _ ried in her hand her staff. Nor was she alone, for upon one shoulder sat the parrot, and upon the other the raven, while the huge bloodhound stood by her side. “T never play with wom—ladies,” at last ~ gasped Dan Field. ‘““No, we play only for 's rt; we never gamble with the fair sex,” echoed Burt Henry. ‘'Then to night you make an exception, - gat y p for you play with me—the pair of you against me.” ; The words were determined, but the tone was soft and musical. ‘ ‘‘Who is she?” whispered Field to Saint at. But the latter dared not answer, for he saw that the woman had divined or heard the question. ‘*Who am I? | ‘* Well, men in these parts call me a Gold Witch, and I am a fortune-teller.” “The days of such superstitious ideas have played out, There are no fortune-tellers now.” said Dan Field. oe “Ha! you doubt my power, do you, young man?” “Shag? ‘*“Then I'll prove it! ‘Come, we'll play three games, and you will win the first one, the two of you I mean, for I will play alone hand against the two, and I will win the next two; now see if I am not right.” The game was soon begun, the woman ti having taken her seat facing the two — 1 strangers, : , **You win, as I said,” she remarked quiet- ly, shoving toward them the hundred dollars she had lost. : “Tt was a guess of yours, for we shall win the next two,” Burt Henry remarked. The woman smiled and put up two hun- dred dollars, eo The sum was at once covered and the Gold glanced uneasily at each other. : Then the Gold Witch said: " “Five hundred this time.” The money was put up and once more the Gold Witch won. A shout of approbation greeted the wo- Bi | PP at settled by 2 ; man’s proof of her prophecy, it, Dan Field said: “Tt was but a guess.”’ “‘Do you think so?” “Tl bet that I can guess your name.” ‘You have seen it on the tablet in hotel.” \ x ‘‘T refer to your own name. That is not your real name.” entity ‘**You only say so always change their names.” «Those that, do have good 4 ers amps aes ; arog te - By ‘ 9: Lie eur saat ‘ because out here men — reasons for so)
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/ Be 6 My _ evening before, over yonder?” < se » + Sg ee en mag: doing. I'll bet you a hundred dollars that I can tell you your names, both of you.” *‘Done! but remember, they must be the names we were christened under, for I ad- mit, to avoid’ newspaper notices about our hunting trip out West we have changed our names,” A laugh from the miners greeted this, and the woman looked Dan Field straight in the face for a full minute. - Then she covered her face with her hands in a tragic manner and bent her head until the slouch hat fell off and her long waves of gray hair fell about her like a bridal vail. ‘*Place your hand upon my head,” she aid. Dan Field did so, but with a feeling of awe in spite of his look of bravado. , ‘* Murder!” shrieked the parrot in a voice that startled all, while the raven croaked Srecusly and the huge dog raised his head and uttered a long-drawn howl. “It is Dean Dangerfield whose hand is upon my head, and his hand is stained with human blood,” cried the Gold Witch. The man shrunk away from her as though she was a snake, while his face became livid. She did not other. ‘‘T have had enough of this tomfoolery,” cried Burt Henry; so come, Dan, let us move, but addressed the =go.” “‘Yes, go, Dean Dangerfield, you and your friend in crime, Hal Burton, go hide your- selves further in the wilderness than is Dead- man’s Den,” and the woman burst out into siook ing laughter, as the two yeung men, now white-faced and trembling with ‘fear, hastily left the saloon. Tbey went to their cabin and gazed at each other in dismay. ““My God! who is she, Burt?” “Dan, I do not know,” ** We cannot stay here?” ‘* No, that is certain.” “The stage starts back at h ae ‘* We'll take it,” ‘© We will.” Littie did they sleep that night, and when the couch rolled out of Deadman’s Den the next morning in the early dawn, it carried as inside passengers the two fugitives from jus- tice, who were flying from dread of the Gold Pct at but to go where they did not now! | dawn, I — CHAPTER XII. THE WITCH’S WARNING. Tne Overland stage-trail out of Deadman’s Den ran about five miles from the canyon where the Gold Witch had her home, oer it was always a pleasure to Overland Jack, as the driver was called, to tell of the mysteri- ous fortune-teller. On the run in, the day before, others had been on the box with him, so that the two friends had inside seats, They had chosen these on leaving Dead- man’s Den also, not wishing to be seen by any more persons than could be helped, As they wheeled out of tbe valley Jack called downtothem: | ‘*Pards, you is losin’ views o’ scenery thet can’t be ekal’d, so git up on the box with ” 4 hey did so, and Jack, who had retired to ach Mean reaching the Pard’s Paradise the ‘knew nothing of what had occurred in the saloon at night, so said: “Does yer see ther high mountain point ur aha That are jist in front o’ ther canyon 0’ _ ther Gold Witch.” The two men started, and Jehu Jack went te ne oom Neh jist whar ther gold are, and I tell yer she are a terror and no mistake.” **Who is she?” ventured Dan Field. ‘*Ther Lord only knows, pard. She come to these parts some time ago and she are ther Queen Bee here now, and folks is as skeered 0’ et as though she were ther devil his- self. ‘‘T shouldn’t mind ef she were on ther trail now, fer she often heads me off ter, see who I has along,” Busy with his horses and his story of the mysterious woman, Jack did not notice how pale his passengers had become. ‘*She was in Deadman’s Den last night, 1 heard,” returned Burt Henry. **Then she was thar fer a purpose, for she allus is, and, ten ter one we sees her— Thar! what did I tell yer?” As the coach rolled around a bend in the trail, there was visible, but a few rods away, the Gold Witch! She was mounted upon her black horse and had along with her the parrot, the raven and the large dog. | : The two men would have given much to have been able to turn away, but it was too late, and at a motion from the woman Jack drew rein, for he was as afraid of her as though she was indeed a witch. ‘‘ Well, Dean Dangerfield and Hal Burton, Tran you out of Deadman’s Den did 1?” . **So-be it! You have but one course be- fore you and that is to take to the road, Go your way now; but we will meet again!” As she spoke she rode up to the coach and with a piece of red clay, which served as chalk, made a cabalistic sign upon the door panel. é Passing arcund to the other side she did the same; then she halted a minute at the boot of the coach whereon a third sign was made i sé Go!” As she uttered the word Jack drove off in a harry. ‘‘Curse the old hag,” he muttered. ‘I never have her cross my trail and mark my coach that bad luck don’t come to me, ‘‘ Now the last time she marked ther coach, ther road-agents kilt ove o’ my pilgrims and robbed ther balance, ‘One time it were my best horse died on me; another time my axle broke in ther mountain pass; then again I were wounded from a unseen foe, ‘‘Pards, Lis afeerd we is in fer trouble this run, and I heerd as how ther agents nabbed yer afore yer reached my drive, on ther trip in.” ‘Yes, we were robbed; but is there no way we can escape being robbed this time?” anxiously asked Dan Field, ‘*T don’t say we is to be held up by ther agints, pards; but I does remark that when- ever ther Gold Witch do make them signs on my old hearse, thar is some trouble sure ter foller. She don’t like me nohow, for I cussed her one night at Deadman’s when I were full o’ bug-p’izen.” The two passengers were certainly alarmed. A man with a guilty conscience is never easy in mind, and sin makes one in a measure superstitious. In the past the two men would have laughed at the idea of a pretended witch possessing supernatural power; but now they had changed their minds, for she had given them their real names; and more: she had let fallan awful accusation against Dean Dangerfield! ‘ . Now she had threatened them, assuring them that they would have a bad ending, and that she would meet them again. They were thoroughly alarmed, and_re- membering her words, Burt Henry asked: ‘‘What did she mean by saying that we would take to the road?” “* Now, pards, you is oncommon green ter ax that. Why, she meant yer would do what many another good man hev hed ter The Gold Witch’s Shadower. do in these parts—that is, take ter ther trails as a road-agent.” ‘*A highwayman?” “Yas, highwayman or low-wayman, it’s all ther same.” ‘* Nonsense! We are gentlemen and have honor.” ‘Waal, ef yer is gents and hain’t got nuthin’ but honor ter support yer, then my idee is'that yer’ll soon come to it, fer it’s work, starve or steal in these parts. ‘* But has yer much dust in yer clothes?” “You mean gold?” **Sart’in.” shinies ‘‘We have a little for our traveling ex- penses,” wifs the cautious reply of Burt. ‘Waal, I truly hopes we'll git through all right; but I warns yer thet ther agents is wide-awake along this trail.” ** Are there many of them?” “Pard, yer never knows how many ontil yer has handed over yer dust and other leetle presents yer may hev about yer.” ‘*Oould we not resist them?” ‘* Maybe; but ef yer does want ter try, jist let me git down and walk by.” ‘‘Oh no, we are strangers hére and we leave all to you, and suppose we will have — to put up with the loss of a little money.” “Yas, if they holds us up, jist count yer money as gone at keerds, —~ ‘‘ Now we is gittin’ near ther range, whar, ef we is to be held up, we will be,” and Overland Jack nerved himself to meet what he had often had to meet before, while his two passengers were while and quivering with fear, CHAPTER XIII, THE GOLD WITCH’S UNEXPECTED VISITOR. Tu Gold Witch paid her second visit to Deadman’s Den the third day following her going there when her presence had so quick- ly frightened the two fugitives from justice out of the camps, She learned that there was excitement above the average in the camp, as soon as she drew near the Pard’s Paradise, for a large crowd had gathered there although it was a week day. At her riding up to the hotel, accompanied by her vicious-looking bloodhound and par- rot, and now mounted upon her white horse, a silence at once fell upon the crowd, They were anxious to say nothing; every one of them would avoid her attention or notice. ‘*What’s up, you old fool, that you all shut up as silent as the dead near?” This uncomplimentary speech was ad- dressed to Pat Leech, who at once re- sponded: ‘There's been) dire trouble on the Over- ver.” death on the Overland—is it not so?” “Yes, Mistress Gold Witch, Driver Jack has had his checks called in.” ‘Overland Jack?’ Y ‘“The same.” I ‘* He passed out two days ago.” i ‘“Yes, and he was kilt on ther way out, — shot dead on his box.” : ‘*He had passengers?” ‘‘Lord love you, yes, and they were the gentlemen you played cards same pleasant with.” ** And what of them?” there.” i" ** And their bodies?” “* Were not found.” _ ‘How did you get this?” ‘<A Government courier from the fort, and told us there, with poor Jack dead the horses gone, . ; ame through e coach was when I come | land, mistress, and we were talking it ‘Thad a dream last night that there was 4 . «Os Poe the ‘The Lord knows, for they were nob ge the v * on the box, and as
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land?” ‘‘ Next to nothing, and the boys were talk- ing of getting up a purse to have you look into the matter for ’em.” ‘*Bah! Iecan aiready see that it was the work of road-agents. ‘* Jack was too brash and went to drive by and caught the lead, while the others were suspected of having more gold than they showed so they were taken off to the camp of the outlaws to be searched or killed. *That’s the whole affair, unless the two sharps run for it when the coach was held ' up and thus made their escape.” ‘*Tv’s about as you say, mistress; but will me step in and see the remains o’ poor ck?” ; ice No, for Ihave all Ican do to keep my eyes on live folks, without gazing upon the dead. When do you plant him?” ‘* Within the hour,” / ** Mark you, St. Patrick.” ‘* Yes, Mistress Gold Witch?’ ‘‘Have you a white cat about your old hash-!.ouse?” ** Yas, thar isan old white tomcat in ther kitchen, and if yer wants him yer kin have him and thank yer, for he are ther consarn- edest cat I—” ‘Hold your tongue, for Ido not want him; but, if you ever expect to find the murderer of Overland Jack, take the old white cat up » with you and bury him alive in the grave , with the body. ’- - “Do you hear?” and without awaiting a response the Gold Witch rode away and halt- ed at one of the stores not far away. The proprietor was just closing up to at- tend the funeral, but hastily opened his shop: to wait upon the Gold Witch, who made several purchases and then rode away out of the valley. . . . She went directly to her home, entering the canyon and riding to the brink of the . foaming torrent, ‘ Here she halted, and, uncoiJing the lariat from her saddle-horn, threw the end of it to the bloodhound who caught it firmly in his oe eth. hen she rode in, her horse seeming to know the way to go across on the ridge, so as not to lose his footing, and the dog fol- lowed, being at once swept off his feet, but j f ‘was towed over by his hold on the lariat. \ | Riding on up the valley, the Gold Witch dismounted at her cabin door and was im- mediately welcomed by a neigh from the black horse, a yelp from the dog lying on the mound as though oa picket duty, a croak from the parrot, and a whine from the black cat. ** Well, it’s pleasant to get a welcome, if itis from dumb beasts,” she muttered, and ‘was preparing to cook her supper, hen the og on watch gave a low growl. + * What is it?” she asked, as she ascended _ the mound and glanced down the valley. _ Aha! a visitor, and on foot! _ “‘T must see who he is and what he wants. rifle, the Gold Witch called her black horse to her side, leaped upon his back and trotted down the canyon, followed by the blood- ound, — Her dumb pets were certainly in perfect § ipods ee . ii - As she neared the brook, she ing . cane on, te other side a slender man, clad in an undress un ; coat, top-boots, and the shoulder-straps of an officer, } _ ‘Well, who are you, and what do you ame a f 13 wif ‘The Gold Witch’s ‘He don’t look like a miner,” and, seizing her | mother, and instantly you fled with your son | id "| money, amd added: tried aes She fet % URED fay asad “ss IONE Sieh 4 7 stranger, A few minutes more and the visitor had dismounted and confronted the Gold Witch, who stood regarding him curiously, He was a man of slender, but graceful form, a face that wus beardless, and yet he seemed to be past thirty years of age, while his hair hung in clustering curls upon his shoulders. \ ‘* Well, sir, why have you come here?” sternly asked the Gold Witch, gazing upon her visitor, while over her face stole an ex- pression it was hard to fathom. ‘‘T have come to you, Susan Carr, be- cause I am friendless aud alone in the world. ‘‘T have come to you for help,” was the response, in a low, earnest voice. CHAPTER XIV. THE WITCH’S FOR’S APPEAL. Tur Gold Witch looked at the one who had thus addressed~her with a strange ex- pression upon her face. yee seem to know me, young man?” she said. ‘Yes, as you know me, Susan Carr, and. know that Iam not what I now appear.” ‘** You appear to be a young man?” “Yes, but you know that I am a woman, and you are well aware who I am. ‘¢ Ah! you shake your head,do you? Well, let me refresh your memory, though I am suré you recognize me. **Yoa are the one whom I hired long, ago, now over a score of years past, to help me in my revenge against Darke Dangerfield and the woman he had married. “You, for certain golden considerations, procured a nurse for Mrs, Dangerfield under your pay, to give ber child into your keep- ing, and you acted as nurse for me when my child was born. ‘*You pretended to carry out my wishes and kidnap her child, and you got your pay; but, long after, you came to me and told me that the boy I had raised, believing it to be one of Mrs. Dangerfield’s twins, was in reality my own child, and thaf you had sim-, ply done nothing in the matter about kid- napping her boy. ‘*You were again Mrs. Dangerfield’s nurse when her daughter, Anita, was born, and you then disappeared from my sight until you came to my ranch in Iowa to tell me my fortune hud been lost—came as tne Witch you now assume to be. “Do you know me now, Susan Carr?” ‘Oh yes, and I know that when Mrs, Dangerfield lay ill, when her little daughter Anita was but a few weeks old, that you, knowing Daisy Dell Manor so well, as it had been your old home, came by night and put Sage in her medicine, thus taking her ife. ‘‘T know that when her daughter—a babe at the time you murdered her mother—had grown to muidenhood, your son saved her life, not only once, but. twice, and that she, the beautiful Anita, saved you from a cruel death from the fury of a panther that had escaped from a circus and was about to spring upon you, “She had her rifle with her, a mere toy, and her aim was deadly and she saved your life. Then I told yoa that Anita and your son | had secretly met, and-would love each other, uniform, with slouch hat, fatigue | in s in y kes of the fact.that her father had killed- his father, and you had taken the life of her to Iowa t 4 Shadower, terest. ‘ + : ae 7 ‘*But, adversity overtook you; and now, ~ while he is East trying to save something from the wreck, you come to me, disguised as aman, and ask for help.” The Gold Witch had spoken in a low, earnest tone, and with a sneer upon her % face, The disguised woman, Dora Sloan, had listened to her in perfect calmness, without a change of expression on her face, though she was very pale ~ * Yes, I need aid and come to you, as you took my money, two thousand dollars, for what you did not do. : ‘* My son can save nothing from the wreck of our fortune; we have little Jeft to live on, until we can get work, so I came to you, for you are rich, to at least pay me back what is my due, 1 ‘©l am sick, wretched and in deep dis- tress.” ‘* And how came you to find me? “Tt is not a hard matter to track one such ?? - f on you, Susan Carr, with your horses und “nm Ogs,? >", ; ; “ Ah, and you trailed me here, after I visit- x ed your home?” “T sent one to track you to where yow lived, and when he returned and told me F ¥ where you were I determined to seek you.” 4 ‘‘And came disguised a8 a man?” war, ** Yes, for a woman cannot travel alone in these wild regions; but, is not my disguise a_ * good one?” z 2. ‘Perfect; but, how came you to reach me ee so readily, and.on foot?” i. ‘IT came by coach, sat up with the driver i and asked him where you were, and 10 put eee | me off at the nearest point the Overland | x Trail ran to your canyon, and he did so, mee some hours ago, and | came on here, with % yonder peak for a guide, as he told meit | 'S was just in front of the canyon of the Gold — +4 Witch.” ae *‘Well, you are a plucky woman, Dora a | Sloan, and I’m not ove to turn you away is Ki from my cabin, though J hate you as bitterly eet | as you do me,” aie ‘‘And why should you hate me?” is ane ‘*T’)) tell you, now that you have dared to bat at come and seek aid of me; but, come now are baa with me to my den, and we’ll talk matters a oo over, Bn ify ‘* You are welcome for a few days, and me Bek then we must pert, to renew our hate as be hy | ae fore, for there can never be other than hate oF hn aes between us, Dora Sloan.” omg fA ‘*No, Lam well aware of that, for I know Pi tie IS all that you are, and you know me,” ae ‘‘As a murderess, yes; but come,” and the Gold Witch led the way up the canyon to - her home. } ! CHAPTER XV. BS A REASON FOR HATRED. |) ie Sa ate Wnen Dora Sloan reached the cabin of the Gold Witch, the dogs, cat and birds regarded her with marks of deepest in bs They had never before seen any visitor welcomed to the hospitality of their mistressS home. EK NG Seemingly at ease in her man’s attire Dora, ay Sloan went to work to help the Gold Witch all she could, and the two soon hada tempt. ing meal ready to sit down to. . They talked upon many topics, Dot, bow- ever, touching upon anything of an vonleas- ant nature, and the Gold Witch 100k an interest in telling of how she came to the gold mines. ries g Paar She explained that she had nursed miner who had died and left her a map of hiscabin and surroundings, and that he had with him the horses and pets she gone With her.» yi After his death she had come to the mines, with his horses and dogs, who had come to obey heimplicitly, and that she had traded — on the skperstitions of the miners to make — y yr a “ *s } . ; - *\ yp i ‘ ‘ . ° My = " ; . ; 74 ‘ : \
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— ret <et i cr \ ir **T have laid by a snug little sum I can tell you, Dora Sloun.” as Dora Sloan encouraged her to talk about Ww, the miners, and got from her a full history of er & Deadman’s Den and its denizens, It was late when the two retired, a bed id having been fitted up in the front room for it the Witch’s guest. ty The next day Dora Sloan seemed anxious ~ to do all in her power to help her hostess, a? . for she fed the dogs and birds, and made the Ve more intimate acquaintance of the two horses. o In the evening as the two women sat to- 5 gether in the cabin, the Gold Witch asked: ° ‘*How much longer do you wish to remain 3 me |! here with me?” ‘‘T can only remain a couple of days, or a week at furthest, for my son will be caming back soon and I must meet bim.’ * ** Where will you meet him?” » “‘T appointed a place in Nebraska.” Te “* And what witand both do?” ® “You have told me such glowing stories Ny of the mines here, that I feel tempted to come } here and turn miner.” x hu **No; it will not do, for you and I can yy never be neighbors, Dora Sloan. Go else- BE: - where.” ; or e9 -“* And why is it, Susan Carr, that you hate a: me as you do? How have I ever wronged ) ? ae ~The Gold Witch fairly started at the ques- ae» el tion, a oe Then she asked almost savagely: a _. ** You would know why I hate you?” é __ “Yes, [would know the reason of your . vw -. hatred?” bs a ‘“‘[ll tell you. Look at me!” » “Well?” **Do we look alike?” “*T do not see that we do.” ha ** Well, we should.” * Wits “ And why?” ‘s BRe. “Because ‘your father was my father, Dora Oe 1. Sloan.” Eee “Woman, you are mad!” ‘ar Sie » “It isalie! Iam as sane as you are, Rae es ‘Your father, Ezra Dean, was a gay pAe (hea young man, and had money. He went off Age, Rd ‘ to college, for his parents wished him to have ae i a profession, to practice medicine, as well as ne to farm, and there he met my mother, the aye daugbter of an honest man, the janitor of the college. ; -He pretended to love her, and urged her into a secret marriage with him, ‘*T was born, and when but a yenr old, my father tired of ¢ollege life and returned home to become a farmer. “My mother begged him to acknowledge _her as his wife, and he laughed at her, tell- ing her that the marriage was a bogus one, “And so it proved, for a fellow-student, disguised as a clergyman, had performed the e bogus ceremony. f nia | “Tt nearly killed my mother, but at last she rallied and went to work to support her- self and child. At She gave me a fair education, and when ‘she died, after a year of illness, I was left destitute; but my ‘experience in nursing taught me to seek such a place and I got good wages. ee ‘‘Before my mother died she told me all, and taught me to hate my father, and to hate you, for he had married a lady of wealth, our mother, and you were his acknowled Child before the world, whiie I was an ott- tom “Ts it a wonder that my whole life was {mbittered, and that when you wanted a nurse I gladly went to you, but with a feel- - ingofrevenge? - iu ete was i joy to find that you hated Darke Dangerfield’s wife, and I got you into _ - my power; but I did not carry out your evil plans against the Dangerfields. ya ta Faas you put poison in the medicine of the sick “woman, and I followed you when you slipped out of the house by the upper ¥ ; disowned by his father, but no crime was | balcony and the large tree that swung over it. **You placed yourself in my power, Dora Sloan, and I am glad to see you have to beg from me now, and to know that you are poor, you and your son, for [ hate you for your father's sake, the father who wrecked my mother’s life. **We are half-sisters, Dora Dean, and yet Thate you; but I give you food, and I shall give you money, for it is my revenge to do | so. lt makes me happy to have you beg of | me. “Do you want proof of what I tell you, Dora, my sister?” ** No; for I believe—in fact, am sure that what you say is true. ‘*My father confessed his sin to my mo- ther, just before he died, bnt I knew not be- fore that you, Susan Carr, was my half- sister.” ‘* Yes, my mother’s name was Carr, and I took it, for I have no right to my father’s name of Dean. 4 ‘*Well, you know my reason for hating you now, Dora, and you know that | enter- tain you because it is a joy to have you eat of my bread and beg me for aid. ** Remain as long as you please, for it isa joy for me to feed you, and some day it will be my pleasure to let_ that proud son of yours know his grandfather’s crime, and that he has a witch for an aunt,” and the woman laughed in a bitter, mocking way. Several days passed away, but the past history of the two was never alluded to again. The Gold Witch took pleasure in telling of all there was of interest in the Colorado Sd and about the miners of Deadman’s en, ‘*T am a bad woman, sister Dora,” and she always emphasized the sister with a sneer. ® “‘T am wicked, for I always cheat at cards. ** Why, I have duplicate packs of those old Saint Patrick, the landlord of Pard’s Para- dise buys, but mine are marked, . “T always demand a new pack to play with, and substitute mine for them, for I go prepared for it, **The other night I recognized the two men who came from where was once your ome, ‘““T knew them at a glance, and saw that they were sailing under false colors, for they had changed their names. “One day I had word from my agent, for I have a man in my employ in N——, telling me of what was going on there, and from him learned that one of the two men I saw had committed a forgery and fled, ‘*The other had also departed, some said alleged against him. “I learned, also, more news you would like to hear; but, I'll tell you some day, I'll come and see youand tell you, for it will keep; it will keep until—well, one day I will tell you, but not now—no, not now! ** Well, I bet with the two young men that they would win one game, and I the next two. f “at layed against their marked pack, which Isaw, In shuffling, I changed to my marked pack and I won and they could not understand bow they no longer saw their secret marks on what they supposed was their own pack. “Then I called them by their real names, my parrot, ata sign from me, shrieked, and by luck crie ‘murder,’ and the dog howled, while I told ove of the men that bis hand was stained with human blood. brs aire ita) “Tt was butaclever guess on my part, from news I had heard from N—— but [ hit | Jeft Deadman’s Den at dawn the next morn- ing on the coach, sie HA **IT headed them off on the road, and marked some signs on the coach, which | —— him so hard by it thet he and his comrade |’ two young fellows have disapper red.” ‘* Killed, too, I suppose, by the road- agents?” The Gold Witch laughed, but made no reply. 7 ‘CHAPTER XVI. OVERHEARD, ‘Tun next day Dora Sloan, still wearing her disguise as a man, walked off from the cabin to be alone. She wandered down the canyon, Jost in deep meditation, for her brow wore a look of, anxiety and an expression of pain was upon her face. She had become pretty well acquainted’ with the habits of her half-sister, the Gold Witch, and seemed to study her every look and movement, The horses, dogs, cat and birds seemed to regard her as one of the family and treate a no longer with a watchful eye, as at. | ‘irst. Walking down the canyon she sat down among the rocks near the ford, to suddenly spring up and hide, for she beheld a horse man approaching! She had thrown herself flat down behind a. rock, on which grew some scrub busbes, ex- | pecting the horseman would cross the ford and ride on to the cabin, for the Gold Witch had told her how miners came to get from her knowledge of where to dig for gold, The Gold Witch had also told her how she kept one of the dogs on watch all the time, so that any one entering the canyon would at once be seen and the alarm given by a yelp or growl, PY To cross the ford was to risk life, even I when one knew the channel, or rather ridge that a horse had to follow across, fay The sharp yelp of a dog now reached the ears of Dora Sloan, Soon there came the clatter of hoofsand the Gold Witch halted. within fifty feet of her. ‘*Go over and bring him,” ordered the woman, as she dismounted from her horse and the intelligent animal at once obeyed, crossing the ford, Knowing that the Gold Witch did not. suspect her presence there, Dora Sloan re- mained quiet, and was most glad to fee: that. one of the dogs had not accompanied their _ mistress, as she would surely have been dis- covered, (se ante The horse soon returned and the rider dis-_ mounted, and from her hiding-place Dora. saw him distinctly through the bushes, pare, _He was a thick-set man, some fifty years — ra, of age, and wore the dress of a ae “Ae ‘ he was attired with marked neatness, and = Miah -.” y/ 5 his weapons were of the finest, while heavy spurs were upon his heels. 4 hdie rete ** Well, Captain Colorado, I suppose you == have come to pay me my share of the pick- = prea you the otherday?” said theGold ‘itch, / yee. hie to ar © OF course.” tha “T fleeced them, as your sign read at ey had money hidden away, and. then S. hpsias to hang them, or let them joinmy “They chose the latter, of course?” “Oh, yes; they were only , too glad H- ee ‘ee 4 y 14
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12 will make good road-raiders, for they are | over again, and could see that the cowboy ‘‘T will look for you about the seventeenth» evidently reckless young villains.” also felt nervous, though he tried not to | of next month, for the courier told me that © ** Certainly.” show it. would be about the time of his return; but, ** Who are they?” Dare helped his friend in the care of his | should I not be there as I said, go into camp ‘I knew them East, or rather, knew who | cattle, hunted for game, fished, and did all | and await me. they were, and recognized them at Deadman’s | that he could to pass away the time; but his ““Tf you delay three days and I do not ap- Den. thoughts were busy about his mother the | pear, then seek the nearest mining-camp and ‘One is a forger, and the other I rather | whole time. } get the direction to find the home of the suspect of murder; but, they will be only His going East, his arrest, speedy trial and | Gold Witch. i too glad to join you, and I so signed on the | sentence, and what had followed, had taken ‘When you reach her canyon, and you aes iy coach, knowing you wanted men. some four months only; but, what had Mrs. | must go alone, blow a whistle, which you rat ‘‘Now, what did they pan out, Captain | Sloan been doing all that time? will find in the package the courier will give ie pe Colorado?” m A month of it he could account for; after | you. ek rt ra ‘“They panned out well, and each was | that he was all in the dark. ‘‘A horse will come at your bidding. 7, a Mount him and let him take you across the iy greatly surprised to see what the other had. One day as the two friends were seated in ‘*T halted the coach, and at once shot Over- | front of the cabin, after a good Sunday din- land Jack, soon as I saw your sign to do so, ; ner, a horseman was seen coming across the This scared the two Easterners terribly, and | prairie. I told them that I knew they had more than| He rode up to the cabin half an hour after their purses showed, and would kill them if | and asked: ; they did not hand it out. ‘Tg this ther Brandon Ranch?” ‘Then they did so, One had in his boot, ‘‘ Yes, pard, and I am Buck Brandon at two thousand dollars, and the other in his | your service,” responded the cowboy politely, -coat-collar nearly as much. ? and he added: _ “JT gave them back their purses and the ‘‘Dismount, stake out your horse and I'll money in them, with a couple: of hundreds | find you something to eat.” each, and all their traps, when they said they | ‘‘ Thank you, pard, I'll do it, for ’'ve come would join me. I also presented them with | a long way, from away down in the Colorado two splendid horses, and they seem to be | mining country, and I war sent from the fort a ue fis do mad torrent to the cabin of the Gold Witch. ‘Under no circumstances attempt to guide 9 the horse, for he will take you over in safety. “‘ Arriving at the cabin look over the door and you will find a letter. ’ ‘*] give these directions in case I should not be able to meet you, after you have de- layed three days in camp, for life, you know, is uncertain with all of us. ‘*In the package the courier will give you, is gold to the amount of five hundred dollars, which you may find useful, as 1 know not if you have any. ao -25 a content.” here, to see you.” ‘‘If you are amply supplied, then give it ‘And now to our division of the spoils,” ‘* Well, you can rest now, and then tell me {| to Brandon as a souvenir from me. ' and the eyes of the woman brightened with | how I can serve you.”” ‘* With the hope of seeing you before very -avariciousness, ‘«Tt’s easy told, pard, for I wants ter give | long, 1 am ever ‘«Your share is just five hundred dollars, | you a letter,” ‘*Devotedly rhode Gold Witch.” ‘* Ah!” and Buck Brandon took the letter ““Your MoruEr.” ‘** So be it, but I should have more.” and broke the seal. “It is short division with you, with no ‘Tt is for you, Dare,” he said, handing the danger to run, but with me it is long divi- | inclosed letter to his friend, while he read a Ky ‘sion, as 1 divide with fourteen men, have ex- | line written to him with it, and which said: penses to’ pay and all the risk to run of get- ‘Will Mr. Brandon kindly give the with- ; - . “7 99 ting shot or hanged. in letter to my son and confer another favor . ‘, bora vt pe lini tree p aia: feta us, [ | UPOO one whom he has before well served?’ ' believe?” ‘ Dare grasped the letter, for he at once re- ‘‘ Not until I come to pay you more money cognized his mother’s writing. : .on pickings you send me, Then he walked.off by himself, while Buck ‘* Good-by.” i Brandon looked to the comfort of the cou- He leaped upon the horse of the Gold | Ter. , Witch, and was at once taken back across| The letter was dated two weeks previous the stream; then, the animal returning, his | to its reception, and was simply headed: mistress sprung into her saddle and rode “ GoLoRADO CAMP.” ‘ ‘back toward her cabin. = Dora Sloan saw the autlaw chief mount | The missive read as follows: ‘his splendid bay animal that had patiently | ‘‘My Drar Son:— awaited him, and leave the canyon. ‘This will reach your hand through a From rock to rock she glided, until, gain- | courier going on Government duty to Fort ing a grove of pines, she thence returned to | McPherson, and wo will have a few days to the cabin, not having been missed by the | himself, he tells me, after delivering dis- Witch. patches to the commandant there. i Bat, she had discovered that her half-sister ** You are no doubt most anxious regarding ; \ ‘was in league with Captain Colorado, chief | me, because of my long silence, but it has of the outlaw band known as the Upper | beenimpossible for me to sooner communi- "Range Road Raiders. cate with ycu, as my plans were not formed ‘‘T must delay no longer to carry out the ; for our future. purpose for which I came here. Delays are ‘‘T was determined to be thoroughly settled dangerous, _ | ere I sent for you, and the chances for our - “Dare will soon be returning to look for | future success are now most satisfactory, I meat Buck Brandon’s Ranch, and I must | assure you, though there are certain condi- act. a ; tions with them that I fear you will not like. ‘« Yes, this very night will I do the deed,” ‘Still, my son, we cannot have all things and an expression swept over the face of | as we wish them in this life, and I assure -' Dora Sloan that was awful to behold, and | you that if we put up fora short while with had the Gold Witch seen it she would have | certain ills, riches will come to us rapidly. CHAPTER XVIII. TO THE GOLD MINES. Twice did the young man read over this | etter. There was much in it that seemed mysteri- - ous to him, and yet he could not fathom it } without seeing his mother. | He was delighted to at last hear from her 5 and anxious to start at once to join her. ae | ““The seventeenth she says, and this is the second, ‘‘ Well, I’ll go and see what the courier has »” { O say. } wsiked back to the cabin and found the courier enjoying the very substantial repast which Buck Brandon had set before him. He was a man. of about forty, wore a fatigue uniform and was heavily armed. As Dare Sloan approached he said: ‘‘T have a package for you also, sir, in my saddle pocket there, and it is money, the Gold Witch told me.” “The Gold Witch?” ‘Yes, sir, the one who gave me the letter and package for you.” ‘‘It was a woman called the Gold Witch, then. who gave them to you?” bo) X 66> sin.” ; ‘*Please tell me all you can about it.” ‘* Well, sir, I was riding along the Over- land Trail, some fifteen miles from Deadman’s Den, carrying dispatches out of New Mexico to Fort McPherson, when I met a person who, in those parts, is known as the Gold Witch, for she has the power to find gold een warned of danger to come. **I feur that nota dollar will be gained to | and tell fortunes, they say. us from the failure of the bank, or the sale ‘‘T had met her twice before—once on the CHAPTER XVII. of Elmwood Hall, so it is best that we seek | trail, while I was carrying dispatches, and THE COURIER. the means now in our power to gain wealth, | once in Deadman’s Den, so I saluted her po- Days passed at Buck Brandon’s Ranch, ‘I decided, after certain moves I had | litely and drew rein, as she said she wished and. Dare Sloan began to be more and more | made, to come to the Colorado mining coun- | to’speak to me. _ anxious to hear from his mother. ‘| try, and thus far all is most favorable. ‘* She asked where I was going, and when - He could do nothing toward finding her, ‘‘T have settled in a good home; but, what | I told her she brightened up and told me she wished to send an important letter to a ranch ee some days’ ride from McPherson, and asked ze me to wait until her return. F ‘‘T told her I was ina hurry; but she told me she\would give me a hundred dollars if I would delay four hours, and I could make up the time. for whither she had gone, after parting with | is more, there is work for us to do thet will Brandon, neither the cowboy nor the son | ‘pan out rich’ as they say in this country. _ could conjecture. ‘The field is before you and you have but She had left the letter for him not. to be | to work it. anxious, and to await at Brandon’s Ranch; ‘‘I wish, therefore, for you to come to me, until he heard from her, The courier will be your guide, as he passes - But then, so long a time had elapsed that | near, on his way to a fort in New Mexico, fs? he could but feel the greatest urasiness ** He will oaks you to a spot where | met ‘So I waited and she rode off ata gallop; ‘about her. : ‘him, and you are to go into camp there until | but she was back within three hours and ian ee: questioned Buck Brandon oyer and | 1 come, so be prepared for it. gave me the package and letter, which I told 7 2 ¢ a en eee eee ey co — 5 iy 7 > <= ae m “ = , ~ _ - : oe : < ¥ 3 a . Je - » a TR a / ~~, Se ap al ae ad = . a= " H- NAP ae TH) eae RANT hoe bq ie %. é a7 € " itr Bee Se ee t a a or : Co ngaal
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her I would deliver, as I would have four days’ rest at McPherson. ““Then she gave me an extra hundred for my ride to this ranch and back, and I was to guide you to the place where I left her.” ** All right, my man; I will go with you at once.” **No, sir, for couriers must ride alone, and I don’t leave McPherson until day after to- morrow, so I will return to-night and have two days’ rest there. ‘«Then I'll pick you up on the trail right at the Sand Hills to the southward and be- yond the Platte.” ‘All right; on the third day from this?” { ** Yes, sir.” ‘*T'll be there, and you can make another hundred by guiding me to the =e where you left the one who gave you the letter for me. *«T will have a pack-horse, and as my ani- mals are good ones we will not delay you on your ride, while we wiil not suffer for pro- visions on the way. sn “By the trail you take it will be the mid- dle of the month before we get there?” ‘« Yes, sir, all of it; about the seventeenth T guess, for I have several points to make on the way, you know,” It was thus decided; and, soon after, the courier started upon his return to the fort, while Dare Sloan began to get his horses in trim for the long trip. The money sent by his mother he turned over to Buck- Brandon, to whom it came well,and was fully appreciated, and the next day the young man took his leave of his - faithful friend, for he was anxious to have a day’s rest for his horses at the Sand Hills, while waiting for the courier, .. The Sand Hills were reached in good time, “and, twenty-four hours after, and promptly when due, the soldier courier arrived and the two started upon the trip southward. Upon the morning of the sixteenth, and after a long ride, full of adventures in dodg- ing Indians and road-agents, the two arrived at the rendezvous appointed in Dora Sloan’s letter. “It was here I met the Gold Witch, and yonder up that valley is a good camping- place; but we are @ little ahead of time. “You may have to wait some days, but I guess she’s prompt,” said the courier, Halting for dinner, he received his pay, and bidding farewell to Dare Sloan, the soldier mounted his borse to go upon his way, intending to stop for the night at Pards’ Paradise in Deadman’s Den. ‘“Fyiend Cole, Iam going to ask you todo me the favor not to speak of having guided me here, or having brought a letter to me, for I have reasons | cannot explain for wish- ing it,” said Dare, as he grasped the soldier's ic indeed, sir; I will not A Rip s it, for, as I said to you, couriers must ride alone, and then both ee and the Gold Witch have been most generous to me, and I'll have three hundred dollars to send to my good wife in Ohio. . “Tl keep silent, sir, for I know you are all right, and I only hope to meet you again some day. y “> ea ‘py and luck to'you; and remember, I bis aang pak by here between the fifteenth to the eigteenth, going north or south, of each month, should you need my services again.” he ar Meetan “Thank you, Cole; I'll not forget it,” and Dare Sloan waved bis hand as the courier dashed away at a ape ea ‘ For-a long time he stood gazing after him, feeling very lonely, as he had found hima very clever and brave fellow. Then he turned to fix up his little camp, as he expect- ed to have to wait at least a day or two, be- ing ahead of time. : te he turned he started, for there before Witch. him stood a strange form, © "tt was the Gold ‘ CHAPTER XIX. PROF. HOWE’S PLUCKY PASSENGERS, Tue coach on the Overland Trail, which had been running into Deadman’s Den with poor Jack on the box, had found another driver in the person of Bob Howe, a man who was known along the frontier as a very dan- gerous personage to anger. Bob Howe was an old scout; had also been an old hand with the reins, for years, and knew the country most thoroughly, while | he had not a particle of fear in his composi- tion. Bob, likewise, was adead-shot Once he had killed three road-agents who had ‘‘ held ey ” his coach, before they could get in a shot. One day Bob Howe was coming along at a good pace, on his run into Deadman’s Den, and was alone on the box, with two passen- gers inside. His face wore a worried look, for he had a fear of being halted by road-agents, and there was one reason why he could not fight back, if a chance of eseape presented itself. That reason was in the shape of a lady passen ger. ‘“Why, she nigh took my breath away, pards, when I seen her,” he had said in tell- ing his companions about his passengers. ‘‘ And her pa are that fine a gent as I ever sot eyes onter. ‘But, Lordy! the gal are pretty!” The passengers were none other than Darke Dangerfield and his daughter, and the beauty of Anita had not alone impressed Bob Howe. They had sold out their Sr at Daisy Dell Manor and vacated, and Mr, Dangerfleld had put his money into the mine he had spoken of as being im Colorado, It was, in fact, not far from Deadman’s Den, and the former owner of it had four men employed in getting out of it what gold they could find. Mr. Dangerfield had been unable to per- suade Anita to remain East, for she would go with him, so he had determined to make themselves as comfortable in their frontier home as possible. They had purchased at the last town, be- fore reaching Deadman’s Den, a lot of furni- ture which they would need, with other things to make them comfortable, and loft all to be brought by wagon-train, along with several fine horses, while they took the stage to go on ahead and get a house to live in, It was Anita’s presence in the coach that worried Bob Howe, for he had made up his mind if halted by the road-agents to shoot from the word go, if there seemed any chance to get through. “Pll hev ter let’em go through ther out- fit,” he muttered to himself, and so he drove quietly on his way. Darke Dangerfield and Anita had both heard of the dangers of the road, and yet were not alarmed. : In fact, Mr. Dangerfield had won Bob Howe’s respect by saying: ‘‘If it comes to a brush, driver, I am at igen service, and you know best what to (0) ” ‘*But ther leetle one, sir?” ‘*Don’t mind me, driver, for Iam not one to submit to being robbed, if you can fight them off,” replied Anita. ‘Waal, you has got pluck from’way back, both of yer,” averred Bob. | But, he made up his mind that he would submit to anything rather than have Anita placed in danger of a bullet. As he neared the spot where Jack bad been shot, two men suddenly stepped into the trail before the leaders, one on either side of them, and a voice called out sharply: ‘* Draw rein! hands up!” . Bob Howe uttered an imprecation, but he obeyed promptly, and up went his hands, he two men were masked and one stepped | before the leaders, catching their bits, while { The Gold Witch’s Shadower. a ee fee ne ree the other walked up to the side of the wheel- ers and held Bob Howe covered by his rifle. A third man now appeared from behind a thicket, and he had peak the one who had given the order to halt, He was tall, slender in form, wore his coat. buttoned close, and had a black mask on, He Corie cocked revolver in one hand, . and in his belt was another. : ‘What have you, driver, that is worthy our attention?” he asked, as he advanced to. ward the side of the coach. ‘Look an’ yer'll find out, yer cussed thief o’ ther trail; but I warns yer ef yer insults by word or look ther leddy in thar, yer'll git no rest ontil ve day 0’ hangin’.” The man slightly hesitated, then advanced and opened the stage door, his revolver at a level. Hardly had he done so when there came: the crack of a pistol, followed by a yell from Bob Howe and ashot, and the horses dashed forward, trampling beneath their hoofs the. man who eae at their heads, So quickly had the shot been fired, so sud- den the result, that the coach was dashing on, with Bob Howe lashing his horses, ere: Darke Dangerfield and Anita knew what. had happened. Then they beheld a horseman dash out in- to the trail, a revolver in either hand, and, though alone, he seemed to fearlessly attack the road-agents, whose shots were rattling forth from the rocks and bushes Then the coach swept on out of sight, and they saw no more. ‘Driver! Driver! halt and let me go- back to- the aid of that brave fellow who. came to our rescue,”’ Darke Dangerfield had called out. But Bob Howe had swept on under whip and voice until safe, and then called back: ‘*Pard, you is a brave one, I knows; but, yer hain't no biz back yonder when yer leetle- gal are here ter look arter, so we sails right. on, ** And that brave horseman?” “Now thet young pilgrim kin look arter himself, and he’ll do it, though I didn’t think he were quite ther reckless piece o’ humanity” he showed himself ter be this day o’ our Lord.” ‘*Had he no help?” 2 ‘‘Nary; but we'll talk when we gits ter Deadman’s Den, for jist now hain’t no time ter swap conversation,” : And Bob Howe rolled on at the same rapid pace until he reached the door of the Pards” Paradise. . There Saint Pat came out to receive his guests. : They were ushered into the best rooms the: hotel afforded, while the loafers seemed to ~ be struck dumb at the sight of Anita. Before ve bags the mine, the former owner | had ordered a house built for Mr, Danger- field and his daughter, and it was about ready for them; but until the furniture came, they were to stop at Pards’ Paradise, where arrangements had already been made for their comfort. “T fear this is terrible for you, my child,” — Darke Dangerfield as im. ‘*On the contrary, father, I really like it, for all is so odd, so strange, and did you see those miners as we drove up? G4 ‘‘Why, every one of them doffed their e gazed about hats tome, and bowed as though a French | — dancing-master had commanded them to your partners,’” and Anita laughed ‘salute merrily. Soon after Bob Howe appeared, accom: — panied by Landlord Leech, who said: — ‘Bob says as how you was fearful about. — the young gent as sailed into the agents, and. wishes me to tell you about him.” Ma (‘ We certainly shall be glad to hear that he has escaped unharmed, Mr. Leech,” said : sa Anita, “ He has escaped, and no mistake, miss. avi! jot f ‘ pe ser
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14 ‘Yer see, ther agents has been ther devil on ther trail, 0’ late, afd since Overland Jack were kilt, two more of the drivers has had the’r toes turned up. “This made ther young gent goon ther trail, and Bob Howe here don’t know him as we does, he bein’ new.” ** And who is he?” “‘Ther man thet took the contract ter clean out the agents?” ‘ st Yes ” ; “He are known in these parts as Dare Devil, for we knows no other name fer him and thet suits him to a dot. ‘*He hain’t been but a few months at Dead- man’s Den, though his mother has lived . hereabout for a couple o’ years or more.” i ‘* His mother?” asked Anita quickly, + ae ‘*Yas, miss, the Go:d Witch we calls er.”” é ‘The Gold Witch?” echoed Anita and her father, ‘* Yes, miss, and sir to you: that’s ther only name we knows her by.” ‘* And who is she?” ** A woman as knows how to read fortunes and looks like a she-devil, beggin’ pour par- don, miss,” ‘*And this horseman who attacked the -road-agent is her son?” Zhe ‘* Yes, miss, and ‘he lays in wait for ’em, 4 and when they jump a coach he jumps them, and somebody gits hurt, and he bein’ the son qi a witch, yer see he don’t git wounded or kilt.” ‘*This is a remarkable story, landlord,” said Darke Dangerfield. : viek er’ll hear more remarkabler things than - what yer has, pard, if yer stays in this ken- try,” chimed in Bob Howe, and soon after he and the landlord left the guests to meditate upon the country they had come to, and the y people they were to dwell among. And, somehow, the thoughts of Anita dwelt much upon the mysterious horseman who had come to their aid on the Overland / Trail. CHAPTER XX. __ / A STKANGE CONFESSION. Hy Dare SLOAN was almost startled at the 4) form that met his eyes as he turned from gaz- ae ing after the departing courier, Toles tt was the Gold Witch, in her red velvet skirt, cavalry boots and spurs, slouch hat with its snake cord, and military jacket, sash and belt of arms, h Her face was dark, her hair snow-white, and her eyes downcast. ‘ My good woman, I believe you bring me a message from my mother,” he said, kindly. bh a Follow me!” ; She turned away as she spoke, and went to her black horse, which was not far distant. Leaping upon his back, she again called out: ‘Mount, and follow me!” He soon had his traps ready, and obeyed. e She led the way for several miles, turned - dnto the canyon and halted at the torrent, © Ride close behind me and give me your pridle-rein. fee gery py sa "flag horse, for @ false step here may cost life.” . He obeyed and she entered the stream, holding the rein of his horse and keeping him close, while he did the same for his led Pee: SOTEEL ef. ; Reaching the cabin she dismounted and _ steppiug to the door threw it open, a) ‘while she cried: . _ **PDare, my son, do you not know me?” - Mother! Great God! can this be you?” Soy PS not caught her in his strong arms, | had swooned away. . . _ He soon brought her to and as she met he said in a low tone: . Be vi A for she his f The Gold Witch ee - = RE MP Ate reo iye hE Py nel tats eG ‘Also hold tight to the lariat of your led | | threats, against the issue fairly, fearlessly, without mercy. I a 808 she would have fallen had he ‘That awful meter *‘Do not condemn me, my son, until you have heard all,” ‘‘Why, mother, how you have suffered, for you positively look twenty years older and your hair is as white as snow.” ‘* }t turned white in a few hours, Dare, and no wonder, ‘*T have sinned deeply, my son, but I must confess all to you, ‘“Then I shall be content, and you will! bear with me for the time I may yet have to live. ‘‘T have much to tell, my son, and I only hope that you will not hate me for it.” ‘Hate you, my mother?” ‘‘But, you do not know how I have sin- ned,” ‘You can have done nothing that can make me hate you. A son may pity a mo- ther, may be hurt that she has sinned, but he can never hate, no, no, not that.” ‘* God bless you, Dare, my noble boy!” she said, and then, after a short silence she re- plied: f *‘T wish to tell you all, and so will begin away back in my girlhood, when I loved Darke Dangerfield.” And she told the story of how Darke Dan- gerfield had won her love, and then cast her off to marry an heiress, and how she had vowed revenge. She told of her marriage through pique to his father, Henry Sloan, of how she had. en- gaged Susan Carr, the nurse, to commit a crime and kidnap the child of Darke Danger- field and his wife, but had been deceived by the nurse; and then she told of a scene that her husband had witnessed in the Dean bury- ing-ground on the ridge near Elmwood Hall, where Dangerfield met her by accident. ‘* Your father deemed it a meeting between Dangerfield and myself by appointment, my son, when it was purely an accident, and in his jealous rage he waylaid Darke Danger- field to kill him. ‘*In self-defense Dangerfield killed him; but that made me even more bitter toward him,” There was one thing that the woman did not confess, She would not tell of her crime against Darke Dangerfield’s wife, and that she had been the cause of her death. ** No, I'll not let him think me a deliberate murderess,” she decided; and then she went on with her terrible confession, terrible in- deed, because it was a mother’s confession of sins to a son. She revealed to him the fact that she had fled from Elmwood to keep him away from Anita Dangerfield. Then followed the com- ing of Susan Carr, the nurse, now playing the character of the Gold Witch to the ranch, after his departure to the East. How Susan had tracked her, ip disguise, Mrs. Sloan made known, and at last related pi Carr’s story of who she was, her half- sister, and the threat of hate against her and son, * ‘‘Poor, driven to bay, and longing for riches for you, my son, while fearful she would kill me or you, or both of us in her hatred, I was utterly desperate, and one night the deadly ordeal came between us. ; _** Jt was her hateful, worthless life full of ours and mine, and 1 met “T metit, and I triumphed.” _ ‘« And she, Susan Carr?” gasped Dare. ‘J killed her, and I threw her body into | the torrent, so it is now far beneath the mountains,” was the husky reply. ‘hen she turned and held out herarms,} ‘ m And Dare Sloan buried his face in his | hands, utterly overcome, - For a long time neither spoke; then the silence was broken by the woman, ‘‘ Dare, I have made my confegsion to you. night of agony, when it was a death-struggle between us, turned my hair as white as snow. "03 ing single-handed upon his foes. hae | -OHAPTER XXI._ 21 Og - LAST WORDS. era Dare SLOAN had fired from his ambush | ce poe ~—- **T put on her costume, and I have tested it several times, at Deadman’s Den and before ret Captain Colorado, with whom | told you she +5 was in league. ; ; ‘‘I told him I would sever all connection i with him, so sent him away, for I wished 2 ‘not to be a thief, *‘T found, behind yonder trunk against { the cliff, a cave, and in it'is gold which that | woman laid by. 7] ‘‘ T have not touched a dollar of it, but left it to you to say what to do, for there is a small fortune there, ‘‘ Now I wish to remain in these wilds un- til I die, and you must not desert me, my son, for sec, look at my haggard face, and my failing form—I cannot last long. ‘* When I am gone, bury me in the canyon | and go your way, for there is gold there at # your command,” ‘‘Do vou think I would touch her gold, mother?” 1 ‘Not after I have sinned to get it for you?” ‘*No, no, never! I will see that everydol- . lar of it is devoted to some worthy charity, ~ while I will hunt the valleys and hills here- about for gold that Ican come by—” he al- most said ‘‘ without crime,” but added, ‘‘by ae my own exertions.” she ““Do as you deem best, my son, for the world is before you, the past behind me. I but await the end.” m, ‘*Mother, I will not reproach you. We id will live here uatil I can, find a fortane in the mines, which I will work for, and then we | will go elsewhere and | will try and make th 4 you forget the past as much as possible. # ‘*But now, before we put all this aside, let © hs me tell you of myself, and how I, too, have st suffered,” and ke told of his arrest and tria pap oS of his escape and flight, and that he owed . to Anita Dangerfield that he had not died on mata, 3 the gallows. , a Dora Sloan trembled violently, and said nothing until he had told her all, Then she je said earnestly: : “God bless Anita Dangerfield, my son, and as I fled with you from her presence, | now I would that you could meet again.” Mial Several days after his arrival in the can- sce yon, Dare Sloan went with his mother to i Deadman’s Den, where the ‘‘Gold Witch,” Roy f as all believed her to be, seemed tobe proud = in showing her splendid son to the miners of that queer camp. a a Often’ the mother and son were seen t0- ether by the miners, seeming tobe search- = ing the mountains, streams and valleys for .. gold, and then came the rumor that Dare her Wer Devil, as they called the young man, WaS.OD 4 the trail of the road-agenis. bias ‘‘This was true, for Dare had heard 80 much of the red deeds of Captain Colorado and his men, that he lay in wait for them, — hoping to clear the trail of such a band ~ af cruel desperadoes as they had proven to be. eer His plan was to lic in wait at a point where they were wont to attack the coach, and then dash out upon them, and in each case the driver and passengers had reported that he _ had done deadly service ; en As the coach ran in to Deadman’s Den one 7 evening, and out the next morning, he hada week off duty, but made the time when he was on duty count, rp A “s It was on one of his attacks upon theroad ggents that he had rescued Darke Danger- eld and his daughter greatly to the avd Sa and delight of Bob Howe, and certainly to — the satisfaction of the two passengers, and to their admiration, too, at his daring, in.dash- . My at \. eo re x: irs upon the road-outlaws, dropping the one w stood by the door of the couch, and had im eae aa pewee
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) The Gold Witch’s Shadower. eh, —————— = would return with money, and I fired the fatal shot; but we were surprised by the sound of hoofs, and retreated to the shelter of a tree near by, and, seeing a horseman, rode out and accused him of murder, for we had not the courage to kill him also, “Tho pistol we found on the said Sloan was a fac-simile to my own, and that aided us in the charge of murder against him, and, to save ourselves from suspicion, we swore his life away,” **Oan you sign it?” asked Captain Burr, hoarsely. ** Yes, I must,” And, with a great effort, he did so, saying, as he sunk back: ** Now, Hal, you sign also.” Hal Burton was raised ‘9 » sitting posture, and, taking the pen, he wro'2: **T swear this confession 23 the truth, “‘ Dare Sloan is guiltless of Squire Benson’s murder, mediately spurred out from his place of hid- ing as the stage swept on. He was taken aback slightly as he discov- ered that Captain Colorado rode out to meet him, while from various places of conceal- ment shots rung out rapidly upon him, showing that the outlaws were out in full force. Captain Colorado sent a bullet through Dare’s left arm, but got one in his brain in return and fell from his horse dead. Then Dare, rattling forth shots, spurred down the trail in flight, for he saw that he had gotter into closo quarters with a dozen men about him. He was wounded in his shoulder and leg slightly, as well as in the arm, and his noble horse seemed to be hard hit, for he staggered under him. As he dashed around a bend in the trail, while the road-brigands were mounting in hot haste to follow him, he suddenly rode upon a large body of horsemen coming on at a gallop. Instantly he halted, for he saw that it was a company of cavalry, and called out: ‘Come on, captain, for there are road agents around the bend 4n pursuit of me.” The officer in the lead called out: “Henry BURTON.” ‘“Give me the pen,” and Captain Burr hastity wrote the word: ‘** Witnesses.” Then followed his name. The surgeon signed it, being followed by Sergeant Lowe, ‘Ride alongside, sir, and we will charge | Corporal Hain and two private soldiers. them!” ‘*Do what you can for them, Wentworth, Then, around the bend dashed the cavalry | to relieve their suffsri:+*,” said Captain directly upon half-a-dozen outlaw horsemen | Burr, and turning to ac» who had stood who were starting in pursuit of the bold | by, silent and stern, he said: man who had done them so much harm. ‘*Mr. Sloan, I congratulate you, sir, most There were sudden shots, saddles were | warmly. Ishall see thot this confession is emptied, a cheer and a charge, and the sol- | sent at once to the judge whom you were diers were upon the scene, with several road- ! tried before, so that your innocence shall be raiders dead and wounded in the trail. made known. A. couple more were captured, ard then ‘‘ And, sir, permit me to say that through all assembled around two men who were} you this band of road-agents has been dying. : broken up) for we certainly have done good “Their masks had been torn off, and Dare | work,” and the captain glanced about him. Sloan cried in amazement: As they could not bear the wounded away, ** @feit God! you here, Dean Danger- | and they must soon die, the soldiers went in- field ? to camp to bury the dead meanwhile, andi to ** And you, too, Burton?” remain until the following day. The former lay bruised and bleeding in the Dare Sloan, as his own horse had suecumb- trail, he having been the man who had stood | ed to his wounds, said: at the heads of the lead-horses to the coach, **May I appropriate Captain Colorado’s and had been trampled under hoof, while ! steed, sir?” Hiul Burton was the one who had approached “Certainly, but we will appropriate you the stage-door, revolver in hand, for Captain | for the night, as Surseon Wentworth must Colorado had hung back to give his new men | look to your wounds.” a trial at highway robbery. “Thank you, sir; I will ask the surgeon «Yes; and you are Dare Sloan! to be good enough to dress them for me, and “ { recognized you as you rode upon us, I | then] must go, for my mother lives over in thought you had died upon the gallows, but, | a canyon some half-dozen miles away, and thank God, it is not so!” would be anxious if I did not return,” **No; Lescaped, and Dean Dangerfield, I Captain Burr said no more, and called to would ask you before these officers and men | the surgeon, who soon looked to the wounds if you and Hal Burton believe me guilty of | of Dare Sloan, none of them fortunately the murder of Squire Benson, being at all serious, though the one in the ‘Speak! for you cannot live, for I verily | arm had bled freely. believe you have your death wounds!” and ‘‘T shall report your good service, Mr, Dare Sloan spoke in a voice intense in its | Sloan, and will address you at Deadman’'s pleading. Den, while if you can visit me at the fort I Dean Dangerfield glanced shall be glad to entertain you, I assure you. Burton and answered: ‘Again I congratulate you upon your ‘-]'ll confess, Hal, for I know I cannot | escape from hanging for another's crime.” five; and besides, I owe Sloan my life. Dare turned away, after expressing his «Who is here to write down my con-}| thanks, and went over to where Dean Dan- jon?” erfield lay. ee ere, Surgeon Wentworth, you take , ‘«The ae dead, sir, and this one can- down his dying words, and, Sergeant Lowe, | not last long,” announced the sergeant. you, Corporal Hain, and two of the men, “Do you know me now, Dean?” asked witness with me what he says,” ordered | Darein a kindly tone. Captain Burr of the Fifth Cavalry, The eyes opened slowly and the answer The men stepped forward, while the sur- | came faintly: geon tooka pad of paper from his saddle-| «Yes; but I dare not ask you to forgive pocket, along with a pen and ink, me,” f Then the dying man said, in a low voice: “T do forgive you, Dean! ‘“*T, Dean Dangerfield, son of Darke Dan-| ‘Tell sister that. It will p.ease her, for N—, | she loves you, Dare, Ask her to. forgive me, toward Hal erfield, of Daisy Dell Manor, near ‘ State of New York, with the fear of death | too. I beg it with my last words.” before my eyes, do solemnly attest that Dare ‘*] will,” was the firm reply, and, grasp- Sloan, accused of the murder of Squire Benson, and tried and convicted as a mur- -derer, is wholly innocent of the crime, as I avd Hal Burton are the guilty persons, ‘‘Hal Burton and myself had planned the murder of Squire Benson, who we knew ing the hand of the man who had so cruelly wronged him he knelt by his side and remained there for a long while, ' ; At last he arose, and said: “Bury him decently, sergeant, in a separ- ate grave, here at tic base of this tree,” and r ———— eS he slipped a golden souvenir into the hand of the sergeant, and having transferred his sad- d.e from his dead horse to the splendid ani- mal which had belonged to Captain Colorado, he mounted and rode away in the gathering gloom, for night was approaching. CHAPTER XXII. CONCLUSION, THE hews of the death of Captain Colorado, and the almost utter annihilation of his band, was carried to Deadman’s Den the next day by Captain Burr and his men, who stopped at the Pard’s Paradise for breakfast. Soon after their arrival the story had been spread over the camps, and Darke Danger- field had asked to see Captain Burr in his own room, for the confession of two men, ey and Dangerfield, he had heard spoken of. The captain seemed surprised to find a gentleman of Mr. Dangerfield’s appearance, and:his lovely daughter, in Deadman’s Den, and could but say so; but he told what had occurred, and was deeply pained to see how he wounded the father and sister of the dead outlaw, for they told him what Dean had been to them. ‘*T shall also write to Judge Verdan and to the attorney of the Benson estate the full particulars of my son’s and Burton’s confes- sion, Captain Burr, for justice must be at once done that noble young man who has s0 cruelly suffered at their hands. I shall visit Dare Sloan to day and Jet him know who it was he saved in the stage-coach yesterday, and that my daughter and myself know all, ‘* Yes, nothing must be hidden, and, if he has suffered from supposed guilt, we must not shield ourselves now we know who was the guilty one.” ‘*It is just what should be done, Mr. Dangerfield, and I know that S!oan will not suffer at your hands now. He is truly a noble fellow, and 1 feel deeply for him,” Soon after the captain and his men went on their way, and Darke Dangerfield and his daughter, with a guide, started on horseback for the canyon of the Gold Witch. The dog on watch signaled their approach, and Dare went to meet them, crossing the stream to-where they waited, He was amazed to see Darke Dangerfield and his daughter in that wild land; but he was quickly led aside by Mr. Dangerfield, who told him that all was known to him, and he then explained just what had happened at Daisy Dell Manor, adding: ‘“Now, Dean, my boy, you can return home with no dread of a stain upon your good name, You are heir to a great fortune, so need not worry to try and find a fortune in gold among these rugged hills, “But now, tell me of your poor mother,” Dare Sloan was deeply moved by all that had occurred, but said: **My mother, sir, is no longer herself, You would not kuow her, for her hair is as white as snow. **She seemed to breek down rapidly after: learning of my trouble, and yesterday took to her bed, from which she says she will never be able to rise.” “My daughter will gladly go to her, and—” “If she would only see her; but I will go and ask her, if you will wait,” and he rode rapidly back to the cabin. What he said to his mother brought the earnest answer: ‘If she would only come to me, for she saved you from the gallows, my son; and then, seeing me as I am, she may forgive me.” ‘* Forgive you, mother?” ‘*Never mind; I will ask her to forgive me for any sin I may have done against her. ‘If she says she will forgive, then I will die content. And, Dare, bring him also, for
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16 with Death’s shadow resting upon me, I am no: revengeful now.” Rapidly did Dare return to Darke Dan- gerfield and his daughter, and while they accompanied him to his cabin, the guide camped near to see if he could be of any service to them. The meeting of the poor woman and those she had wronged, I will not speak of. Let the scene be sacred to them alone. The nextday Anita returned to the Pards’ Paradise for their things, and de- Ht voted herself to caring for the dying ; woman. One week after their coming Dora Sloan died, and was buried in the canyon near her cabin. Then Dave gave into Mr. Dangerfield’s keeping the gold-dust found in the cave, telling him to hold it until he knew what he should devote it to, for he firmly declined to take a dollar of it for his own use. While Mr. Dangerfield and Anita went to their home in Deadman’s Den, Dare Sloan started on his way to his old home in the East, and was welcomed back by ; Judge Verdan as from the grave. i} As the papers proving his innocence had been received, he at once began the settlement of his ? puttin Elmwood Hall and Daisy Dell Manor on the market, they were sold, and, with his other inheritance from Squire Benson, he found himself a milionaire. “‘T shall never live here again,” he said to Judge Verdan as he bade him good-by, one day, six months after his return to his old home. \ And he never did, for he went to a Southern State, and on the-shores of the Mexican Gulf purchased a lovely home. And to that home, one year after the — affaars. “¢> vs arrival of the Dangerfields in Deadman’s Den, he carried the lovely and loving hig Anita as his wife, and thither Darke ij Dangerfield accompanied them, for they | were ail he had in the wide world to love and to love him. THE Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. BY WILLIAM G. PATTEN. Violet Vane; the Velvet Sport; or, The Jubilee ot Jacktown Violet Vane’s Victory; or, The Jasper City Clean Out, Violet and Datay, the Posy Pards. 705 Violet Vane’s Vow; or, The Cratty Netective’s Cratt. 724 Violet Vane’s Vengeance; or, The Wipe-Out. Violet Vane’s Verdtet; or, The Game at Coffin City. TA1 Violet Vane, the Ventriloquist Vidoog; or, Sport vs. Sport. 750 Violet Vane, the Vanquished. or, The Life Strugg'e. 768 Violet Vane’s Vislong or, The Fiery Hand of Fate. 489 The Mamond Sport; or, The Double Face of Bed Rock. 19 Captain Myster y; or, Five in One. 81 Dalwy Ware the Sport from Denver. , ; BST Old tombshell, the Ranger Detective. 604 Tron Fern, the Man of Fire; or, Among the Vultures. 619 The Boy Tramp. Detective: or, The Doubie GripWitness 641 Dismal Dave’s Dandy Pard; or, The Clue to Capt. Claw 651 Bound Roy F rank, the Young Amateur Detective 622 d Vulean, the Lone-Range Rider, 714 Old Misery the Man from Missourt, TTA Clear-Grit Cal, the Never-Say-Die Detective, 789 Sam Sheridan, the Secret Service Special, 806 Cowboy Steve the Ranch Mascot. 820 Nobby Nat, the Tenderfoot Detective. 886 Sharper Stoke’s Double Deal. wi Sh? Spotter Bobin New York. el. 866 Spotter Bob’s Bowery Racket. BY JOS, E. BADGER, Jr, 2 Vellowstone Jack; or, The Trapper. 48 Biack John, the Road-Agent; or, The Outlaw’s Retreat, 65 Hurricane Bill 3 or, Mustang Sam and His Pard, 119 Mustan Samed of: Cee King of the Plains. 186 Night-tlawk Kit; or, The Daughter of the Ranch, 144 Dainty Lance the Boy Sport. 151 Panther Paul; or, Dainty Lance to the Rescue. 160 The Black Gant; or, Dainty Lance in Jeopardy. 168 Deadly Dash: or, Fighting Fire with Fire. 184 The Boy Trallers; or, Dainty Lance on the War-Pa 208 The Roy Pardss or, Dainty Lance Unmasks, 211 Crooked Cale, the Caliban of Celestial City. 810 The Narranca Wolf’; or, The Beautiful Decoy.” 819 The Black Rider; or, The Horse-Thievea’ League, ie B85 Old Double Fist; or, The Strange Guide 7 855 The Kine of the Woods: or. Daniel Boone’s Last Trail. ‘ » 449 Kit Fox, the Border Boy Detective 625 Chincapin Dan, the Boy Trafler. ee 677 Chineapin Dan’sa Second Trall. 688 Chineapin Dan’s Home Stretch, , 698 Old Crazy, the Man Without a Head, O8 Licht-Weart Lute’s Legacy. 18 Light-Weart Lute’s Last Trail, 728 Silverblade, the Shoshone. rt +4 RSilverblade, the Half-Blood; or, The Border Beagle at Bay. 89 Silverblade, the Hostile; or, The Border Beagle’s Trail, Z48 Silverblade the Friendly; or, The Border Beagle’s Boy Pard END. | aun 1 544 549 BY Deadwood Dick Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood & Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Z Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Dead wood Deadwood Gold-Duat Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Dendwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Dendwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwooa Dendwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwooa Deadwood Deadwooa 5654 Deadwood 561 & 690 605 T2 TIT 934 940 946 951 957 9 998 1005 Ucadwood Dick, Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwooa Deadwood > Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Peadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Dendwood Deadwood Dendwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood I Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood 1 Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Dead wooa 7 Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Dendwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood Deadwood EDWARD ae arcetg” oR The Gold Witch’s Shadower. TT L. WHEELER, Novels, Dick, the Prince of the Road. Dick’s Defiance; or, Double Daggers. Dick tn Disguise; or, Buffa)> Ben. Dick in His Castle. Dick’s Bonanzay or, The Phantom Miner. Dick in Danger; or, Omana Oll. Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood Bar. Dick on Deck; or, Calamity ¢ ne, the Heroine Dick's Last Aet: or, Corduroy Charlie. Dick in Leadville. Dick's Device; or, The Double Cross Sign. Dic Dick's as Detective. Double; or, The Gorgon’s Gulch Ghost. Dick’s Home Kase; or, Blonds Bill. Dick’s Big Strike; or, A Game of Gold. Dick ot Deadwoo t or, The Picked Party. Dick’s Dreamy or, The Rivals of the Road. Dick’s Wards or, The Black Hill’s Jezebel. Dick’sa Doom: or, Calamity Jane’s Adventure, Dick’s Dead Deal. Dick’s Death-Plant. Dick. Dick’s Divide Dick’s A Romance of Roughe and Toughs, or, The Spirit of Swamp Lake. Denth Trall. Dick’a Deals or, The Gold Brick of Oregon, Dick's Dick’s Dozen; or, The Fakir of Phantom Fiata Ducata; or, Days in the Diggings. Diek Sentenced; or, The Terrible Vendetta, Dick’sa Claim. Dick In Dead City. : Dick’s Diamonda. Dick in New Yorks or, A “Cute Case,” * Dick’s Pick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick Dick, Dick, Dick, Diek, Dick Dick, Dick, Dilek Dick, J Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick. Dick. Dick Dick, Dick, Duats or, The Chained Hand. Jr.3 or, The Crimson Crescent Sign, Jr.’«, Deflanec, dra Full Hand, dra, Big Round-Up. Jr.s Racket at Claim 10, Jr.’« Corral; or, Bozeman Bill. dr.’*, Dog Detective. dr.» In Deadwood. Jr.%s, Compact. Jr’s., Inheritance, drs Diggings. dr.’a, Deliverance, dr.’s Protegee. r.’a, Three, dyr.’a, Danger Ducke, Jr.’a) Death Hunt. dr., in Texas. Jr., the Wild West Vidocg Jr., on ihn Mettle. dr., in Gotham, Jr., in Boston, Jr., in Philadelphia. Jr., in Chicago. Jr.. Afloat. vr... In Denver. dra, Decrees Jr., in Beelzebub’s Basin, dr., at Coney Island, Jr.’*«, Leadville Lay. Jr., In Detroit. Jr. In Otncinnatl. Jr., in Nevada. Jr., in No Man’sa Land, Jr., Atter the Queer. dr.. in Buffalo, dra, Chase Acroas the Continent Jv., Among the Smugglers. Jr.’a, Insurance Cage, Jdr., Back in the Minea, dr., tn Durango; or, Gathered In.” Jr.a Wiscovery; or, Found a Fortune, Jr.’a. Dazzle, drs. Dollars. Jr., at Danger Divide. Jr.s, Drop. Jr., at Jack-Pot, Jr., in San Franclsco. Jr’a Still Wunt. Jr’a Dominoes. Jr’a Disguiae, Jr’a, Double Deal. Jr.’s, Deathwatch. Jdr.’s, Poublet. Jdr.’a, Deathblow, dr.’s Desperate Strait. Jr’a, Lone Wand, Jr’a Defent. Jr.’a, Reaurrection. Jr’a Dark Days. Jr.» Defied. Jr.’a, Double Device, Jr’.a, Desperate Venture, } Jrwe, Diamond Dice, Jr, Roynl Flush, dra HWead-off. Jr.’s, Rival. Jr.’a, Boom. Dick, Jr.’«, Scoop. Dick,. Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick. Dick, Jr.’a, Proxy. Jr’a, Clatch, Jr«, High Worse. Jr. at Devil’s Gulch, Jr.’s, Reath-Hole Hustle, Jr.’« Bombshell. Jr., In Mexico, Jr’a Decoy Duck, Jr. in Silver Pocket. Jr’a, Dead-Sure Game, Jr’a, Double Drive. Jr/a, Trade-Mark,. Jr., at xipo RSD. Jrv’a Double-Decker. dr. at Dollarville, Jr.. at Flush Flatea. Jr.’ BRARG-HDe Jr.’s, Double Drop, Dick, Jr.’s, Right Bower. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Ten-Strike. 65 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’*, Gold-Dust, 971 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Oath, 9T7 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Death-Doom, 986 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Best Card, 992 Deadwood Dick, Dick, Jr.’% Big Play. Jr., at Gold Dust. Jr., Branded, 1011 Daud«o 4 Wek, Jr.’s. Dutch Pard, 1018 Deadwood Bic ., J*.’s, Big Four. , 925 The ¥ 949 959 966 BY T. J. FLANAGAN, / 00 Midshipman Dare, the Pirate Catcher. oun The Two Cruise. he Maxeot MI MI y Cowboy Captain. idehbpunemt of The Corsair-Chaser’s First ddy 3 or, The Four Commanders, The Three Lieutenants fighting Jack Shubrick. 972 Fighting Jack’s Middies ; or, Dandy Dick’s Dash. 999 Jack Langs the. Privateer Rover. 1014 Middy Ned, tke Runaway. BUFFALO BILL NOVELS. BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, 1018 Buffalo Bill’« Texas Team, 1007 Buffalo Bill’s Sure-Shota, 1000 Buffalo sila Decoy Boya. 995 Buffalo Bill’s Drop; or, Déad-Shot Ned , the Kansas Kid, 988 Buffalo Bill's Lasso Throwers, 981 BRutfalo Bill's Fighting Five. 975 Buffalo Bill's Kille Shota. 968 Buffalo BUVs Kush Ride; or, Sure-Shot, the High-Flyer. 964 Buffalo BUDs Decoy ; or, The Arizona Crack Shot, 955 Buffalo Bill’s Mazeppa-Chase, 948 Buffalo Bill's Snap-Shot 3 or, Wild Kid’ Texan Tally 942 Buffalo Bills Tough Tussle. f 986 Buffalo BUll’s Boy Mascot; or, Joe Jarvis’ Hold-up. 929 Buffalo BUVs Crack-shot Pard. 650 Buffalo Bill’s Boy Parad; or, Butterfly Billy. 216 Bison BIll, the Prince ot the Reis. 222 Bison BILll’s Clue; or. Grit, the Bravo Sport, BY BUFFALO BILL. 65 Deadly-Eye. the Unknown Scout; or, The Banded Brotherhood 68 Border Robin Hood; or, The Prairie Rover. 158 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, The Trapper’s Trust. BY CAPT, ALFRED B, TAYLOR, U. 8, A, 191 Buffalo Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker. 194 Buffalo Bills Bet: or, The Gambler Guide. BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, 1028 The Cowboy Clan in Cuba, 1016 The Boy Bugler in Cuba. y 4 982 New York Nat’s Drop: or, Ex-Ferret Sykes’ Bold Game New York Nat and the Traitor Ferret. New York Nut Trapped. f New York Navt’s Three of a Kind. ’ New York Nat’s Double. New York Nat’a in Colorado, New York Nat in Gold Nugget Camp. New York Nat’s Deadly Deal. New York Nat’s Crook-Chase. New York Nat’« Trump Card. New York Nat and the Grave Ghouls. 5 New York Nat’s Masked Mascot. New York Nat, the Gamin Detective. Dick Doom’s Kidnapper Knock-Out. Dick Doom’s Ten Strike. Dick Doom’s Flush Hand, Dick Doom’s Death-Grip; or, The Detective by Destiny, 77 Dick Doonv’s Deatiny; or, The River Blackleg’s Terror. Dick Doom} or. Ihe Sharps and Sharks ot New York. Dick Doom in Boston; or, A Man of Many Masks. 798 Dick Doom tn Chicago. Dick Doom in the Wild West, . Dick Doom’s Clean Sweep; or, Five Links in a Clue. Dick Doom’s Death Clue. Dick Doom’s Dinmond Deal. Dick Doom’sa Girl Mascot. Dick Doom’s Shadow Hunt. Dick Doom’s Big Heul. ‘ Dashing Charlie; or, The Kentucky Tenderfoot’s First Trati, Dashing Charlic’s Destiny; or, The Renegade’s Captive, Dashing Charlle’» Pawnee Pard, Dashing Charlle, the Rescuer. Buck Taylor, King of the Cowboys. Back Taylor, the Comanche’s Captive. Buck Taylor’s Boys; or, The Red Riders of the Rio Grande, Pawnee Bill, the Prairie Shadower. Pawnee BiIil; or, Carl, the Mad Cowboy, Pawnee BUVa Pledge; or, The Cowboy's Doom, Pawnee Bill; or, Daring Dick. Redfern’s Curious Caser_™, The Rival Sharps. Kedfern at De vil’s Kanehy, or, Tho Sharp from Texas. Redtern’s High Hand; or, Blue Jacket. Redfern’s Last Trail: o”, The Red Sombrero Rangers. Ana Fifty Others. BY LIEUT. A. KK, SIMS. Tom-Cat and Pard; or, The Dead Set at Silver City. Tom-Oat’s Triad; or. The Affair at Tombstone, Tom Cat’s Terrible Task; or, The Cowhoy Detective, Tom-Cat’s Triumph; or, Black Dan’s Great Combine. Captain Cactus, the Chaparral Cock; or, Josh’s Ten Strike The Dandy of Dodge; or, Rustling for Millions. The Silver Sport: or, Josh Peppermint’s Jubilee. Saffron Sol, the Man With a Shadow 601 Happy Hans, the Dutch Videcg; or, Hot Timesat Round-Up 611 Billed Barnacle, the Detective Hercules. 646 ) b Gid, the Cattle-Range Detective. Warping William the Mountain Mountebank. 665 Jolly Jeremiah; the Plains Detective, 676 Signal Sam, the Lookout Scout. 689 Billy, the Gypsy Spy: or, The Mystery of Two Lives.» 699 Simple Sim, the Broncho Buster; or, For Big Stakes. 712 The Meameriat Sports or, The Mystified Detective. 288 Toltee Tom, the Mad Prospector, 745 Kansas Jim, the Crosa-Out Detective. 2761 Marmaduke, the Mustanger Detective, 778 The Rustler ot Rolling Stone, t4 Hand Joe the Committee of One. bor Kent Kirby, the High-Kicker from Killbuck. \ 882 The Doctor Dete ctive In Texas, 4 T Showmen Jetectives in Colorado. ORT he Texan Firebrand; or, Brazos Billy’s Snap.Shot, 961 The Tramp’s Trump-Trick, NEW ISSUES. 1081 The Texan Hustlers in Cuba. By Col, P. Ingraham, 1082 Cowboy Chris, tho Man of Caliber. By Wm, W. Wilder. 1088 You Bet RBob’s Circus, By Arizona Cy. 1084 The Gold Witch’s Shadower. By Col, P. Ingrohiam. 1085 Antelope Abe, the Bov Guide. By Ol) Coomes, JUST ISSUED. 1024 Dandy Dick, Detective. By Robert R. Inman, 1025 The Flying Yankee or, The Ocean Onteast. Ty Col, P. Ingraham, 1026 The Three Spottérs. By Marcus H. Waring. 1027 The Cowboy Raiders in Cuba By Cal. Ingraham, 1028 The Y oung Skipper’s Bonanza. By Harold Payne, 029 The Phantam Spy. By Butfalo Bill. 1080 The Ranche.’s Four Millions. By Leon Lewis, A New Issue Every Tuesday, The Half.Dimeé Library is for sale by all newsadgalers, five onts per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each, , BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 92 William Street, New York,