Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 1) (1877 10 15)
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—_—— -- ||| | {i | em | A (a Vie | we Single Number. THE BLACK RIDER of the BLACK HILLS. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER. CHAPTER I. FEARLESS FRANK TO THE RESCUE. On the plains, midway between Cheyenne and the Black Hills, a train had halted for a zeae feed. Not a railway train, mind you, but a line of those white-cove vehicles drawn by _ strong-limbed mules, which are most properly styled * prairie schooners,”’ There were four wagons of this type, and they had been drawn in a circle about a camp-fire, over which was roasting a savory haunch of venison. Around the camp- were uped half a score of men, all rough, bearded, and gri al with =“ exception. is being a you whose age one could have safe- 7 put at twenty, so perfectly eveloped of physique and in- hesigent of facial appearance was he. There was somethi about him that was not hand- some, and yet you would have been puzzled tell what. it was, for his countenance was strikingly handsome, and sure- ly no form in the crowd was more noticeable for its grace, symmetry, and proportionate evelopment. It would have taken a scholar to have studied out the secret. He was of about medium stature, and as straight and square-shouldered as an ath- lete. His complexion was nut- brown, from long exposure to the sun; hair of hue of the raven’s wing, and hanging in long, straight styiads adown his back; eyes black and pier- cing as an eagle’s; features well molded, with a firm, reso- lute. mouth and prominent chin. He was an interesting specimen of young, healthy manhood, and, even though a youth in years, was one that could command respect, if not admiration, wheresoever he might choose to go. One remarkable item about his personal appearance, apt to strike the beholder as being = ney | strange and eccen- tric, was his costume—buck- skin Parougbows, and that dyed to the brightest scarlet hue, On 7 asked the cause of this odd freak of dress, when he had joined the train a few miles out from Cheyenne, the youth had laughingly replied: ef Why, you see, it is to at- tract bufflers, if we should meet any, out on the plains *twixt this and the Hills.’ He gave his name as Fearless Frank, and said he was aiming for the Hills; that if the party in ques would furnish him a place among them, he would extend to them his assistance 45 a hunter, guide, or what- ever, until the destination was ~eached. Weving that he was well YZ, Lzctice-c WW oa Vall Ht Copyrighted in 1877, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, \ § WM, EMAC MANA ke BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. armed, and judging from external appearances that he would prove a valuable accessory, the miners were nothing loth in ated gt 3 his services. Of the others grouped about the pea st only one is specially noticeable, for,as Mark Twain re- marks, ‘‘the average of gold-diggers look alike.” This person was a little, deform old man; hump- backed, bow-legged, and white-haired, with cross eyes, a large mouth, a big head, set upon a slim, crane-like neck; blue eyes, and an immense brown beard, that flowed downward half-way to the belt about his waist, which contained a small arsenal of knives and revolvers. He hobbled about with a heavy crutch constantly under his left arm, and was certainly a pitiable sight to behold. He too had joined the caravan after it had quitted Cheyenne, his advent taking place about an hour subsequent to that of Fearless Frank. His name he asserted was Nix—Geoffrey Walsingham Nix—and where he came from, and what he sought in the | Black Hills, was simply a matter of conjecture —s the miners, as he refused to talk on the sub- ject of his past, present or future. Ha! ha! ha! isn’t that rich, now? Ha' ha! ha} arrest Deadwood Dick if you can! 5 Cents. The train was under the command of an irascible old plainsman who had served out his apprentice- ship in the Kansas border war, and whose name was Charity Joe, which, considering his avaricious dis- sition, was the wrong handle on the wrong man, tharity was the least of all old Joe’s redeemin characteristics; charity was the very thing he did not recognize, yet some wag had facetiously brand- ed him Charity Joe, and the ne a aan had clung to him ever since, He was well advanced in years, | yet withal a good trailer and an expert guide, as the success of his aay late expeditions into the Black Hills had evidenced. Those who had heard of Joe's skill as a guide, in- trusted themselves in his care, for, while the stages were stopped more or less on each trip, Charity Joe’s train invariably went rg tis 2 all safe and acquaintance | sound. This was partly owing to with various bands of Indians, who were the chief cause of annoyance on the trip. So far we see the train toward the land of gold, without their having seen sight or sound of hostile red-skins, and Charity is just chuckling over his usual good luck: “T tell ye what, fellers, we’ve hed a fa’r sort uv a shake, so fur, an’ no mistake “bout it. Barrin’ thar ain’t no Sittin’ Bulls layin’ in wait fer us, be- head yander, in ther mounts, I’m of ther candid opinion we'll get through wi’out scrap- in’ a ha’r,”’ “T hope so,” said Fearless Frank, rolling over on the eraes and gazing at the guide, houghtfully, “‘ but I doubt it. It seems to me that one hears of more butchering, lately, than there was a month ago— all on account of the influx of ruffianly characters into the Black Hills!” “Not all wlan to that, chip- Re interposed ‘“ General” ix, as he had immediately been christened by the min- ers—‘‘not all owing to that. Thar’s them gol danged cop- per-colored guests uv ther gov- ernment —they’re kickin’ up three pints uv the’r rumpus, more or less—consider’bly less of more than more o” less, Take a passel uv them barbar- ities an’ shet °em up inter a prison for three or thirteen peers, an’ ye’d see wat an mpression et’d make, now. Thar’d be siveral less massy- crees a week, an’ ye wouldn't see a rufyan onc’t a month. W'y, gentlefellows, thar’d nev- = been a ruffian, ef et hedn’t een fer ther cussed Injun tribe—not one/ Ther infarnal critters ar’ ther instignators uv more deviltry nor a cat wi’ nine tails.” “Yes, we will admit that the reds are not of saintly origin,” said Fearless Frank, with a quiet smile. “In fact I know of several who are far from being angels. ce There is old Sitting Bull, for instance. and Lone Lion, Rain-in-the- Face, and Horse-with-the-Red- Eye, and so forth, and so forth!” “Exactly. Every oneo’ ’em’s a danged descendant o’ ther old Satan, hisself.”’ i re aside ther Injun subjeck,” said Charity Joe, forking into the roasted veni- son, “I move thet we take up a silent debate on ther
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2 . Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. pecooliarities uv a deer’s hind legs; so heer goes!” He cut out a huge slice with his bowie, sprin- kled it over with salt, and an to devour it b very large mouthfuls, All hands proceeded to fol- low his example, and the noonday meal was dis- tched in silence. After each man had fully satis- ed his appetite and the mules and Fearless ’s horse had grazed until they were full as ticks, the order was given to hitch up, which was speedily done, and the caravan was soon in motion, toiling along like a diminutive serpent across the plain, The afternoon was a mild, sunny one in early autumn, with a refreshing breeze perfumed with the delicate scent of after-harvest flowers wafting down from the cool. regions of the Northwest, where lay the new El Dorado—the land of gold. Fearless Frank bestrode a noble bay steed of fire and nerve, while old General Nix rode an extra mule that he had purchased of Charity Joe. The remain- der of the go ey! rode in the wagons or “ hoofed it,’’ as best suited their mood—walking sometimes being preferable to the ruthbling and jolting of the heavy vehicles. Steadily along through the afternoon sunlight the train wended its way, the teamsters alternately singing and cursing their mules, as they jogged along. Fearless Frank and the ‘‘ General "’ rode sev- eral hundred yards in advance, both apparently en- in deepest thought, for neither.spoke until, ward the close of the afternoon, Charity Joe called their attention to a series of low, faint cries brought down upon their hearing by the stiff northerly wind. “Pears to me as how them sound sorter human like,”’ said the old guide, trotting along beside the young man’s horse, as he made known the discov- ery. ‘Jes’ listen, now, an’ see if ye ain’t uv ther same opinion!” The youth did listen, and at the same time swept the plain with his eagle eyes, in search of the ob- ject from which the cries emanated, But nothing of animal life was visible in any direction beyond the train, and more was the mystery, since the cries sounded but a little way off. “They are human cries!” exclaimed Fearless Frank, excitedly, ‘‘and come from some one in dis- . Boys, we must investigate this matter.” “You can investigate all ye want,” nted Char- ity Joe, ‘‘ but I hain’t a-goin’ ter stop ther train till dusk, squawk or no squawk, I jedge we won't get inter their Hills any too soon, as it ar’.”’ “You're an old fool!” retorted Frank, contemptu- ously, ‘‘I wouldn’t be as mean as you for all the gold in the Black Hills country, say nothin’ about tin California and Colorado.” He turned his horse’s head toward the north, and rode away, followed, to the wond*r of all, by the ** General.’ ‘Ha! ha!’’ laughed Charity Joe, grimly, “I wish you success.” “You needn’t; Ido not want any of your wishes. I'm going to search for the person who makes them cries, an’ ef you don’t want to wait, why go to the deuce with your old train!” “There ye err,” shouted the guide ; **T’'m goin’ ter Deadwood, instead uv ter the deuce.’ “* Maybe you will go to Deadwood, and then, yg maybe ye won't,”” answered back Fearless Frank, * More or less!’’ chimed in the general—‘“‘ consider’- bly more of less than less of more, Look out thet ther allies uv Sittin’ Bull don’t git ther dead wood on e. ; On marched the train—steadily on over the level, sandy plain, and Fearless Frank and his companion turned their attention to the cries that had been the means of separating them from the train. They had ceased now, altogether, and the two men were at a loss what to do, “Guv a whoop, like a Government Injun,”’ sug- “General ’’ Nix; ‘‘an’ thet’ll let ther critter ow thet we be friends a-comin’. Par’ps she’m gin out ontirely, a-thinkin’ as no one war a-comin’ r her resky!”’ “She, you say?” “Yas, she; fer I calkylate ‘twern’t no he as made them squawks. Sing out like a bellerin’ bull, now, an’ et ar’ more or less likely—consider’bly more of less ’n less of more—that she will respond!” Fearless Frank laughed, and fo: his hands in- toatrumpet he gave vent to a loud, ear-splitting “hello!” that made the prairies ring. - hale uv Joner!”’ g: the ‘‘General,”’ holding his hands toward the on of his organs of peering. 33 Hol peg °’ po AS gt J 0 et ag yee—don’ do et; ye've sm my tinpan- um ail iriter flinders |! heaven! ye — a bugle wus nor enny steam tooter frum heer tew Lowell.” “Hark!” said the youth, bending forward in a listening attitude. The next instant silence prevailed, and the twain anxiously listened. W down across the plain came in faint evi’ accents the repetition of the ery they had first heard, only it was now much f r. Evidently whoever was in dist was Eesrening rapidly. Soon the cries would be inaud- le. *Tt’s straight ahead!’’ exclaimed Fearless Frank, at last. ‘‘Come along, and we'll soon see what the matter is!" He the spurs to ae ares animal, and the next was dashing y off over the sunlit oop Bent on emulation, the “‘General’’ also used heels with considerable vim, but alas! what de- ndence can be placed on a mule? The animal _bolted, with a vicious back at the offending rid- -er’s legs, and refused to budge an inch. On—on dashed the fearless youth, mo:.nted on his noble steed, his eyes bent forward, in 4 sharp seru- tiny of the plain ahead, his mind filled with wonder thes the crive were now growing more distinct. and yet not a first glimpse could he obtain of the source whence they emanated. On—on—on; then suddenly he reins his steed back — its haunches, just in time to avert a frightful plunge into one of those remarkable freaks of na- ture—the blind canal, or, in Other words, a channel valley washed out by ree ig Orr a These the tourist will uently encounter the regions contiguous to the Black Hills. Below him yawned an abrupt channel, a score or more of feetin depth, at the bottom of which was a dense chaparral thicket. The little valley thus nest- led in the earth was about forty rods in width, and one would never have dreamed it existed, unless they chanced to ride to the brink, above. earless Frank took in the situation at a glan and not hearing the cries, he rightly conject that the one in distress become exhaust- ed. That that person was the thicket below seemed more than probable, and he immediately re- solved to descend in search. Slipping from his sad- dle, he stepped forward to the very edge of the preci- pice and fooked over. The next second the ground crumbled beneath his feet, and he was precipitated headlong into the valley. Fortunately he received no serious on and in a moment was on his feet again, all right. “ A miss is as good as a mile,’’ he muttered, brush- ing the dirt from his clothing. ‘‘ Now, then, we will find out the secret of the racket in this thicket.” Glancing up to the brink above to see that his horse was standing — he parted the shrubbery, and entered the thicket, It required_ considerable pushing and tugging to got through the dense undergrowth, but at last ef- sorts Be rewarded, and he stood in a small break or e. good there, to behold a sightthat made the blood boilin his veins. Securely bound with her face to- ward a stake, was a young girl—a maiden of perhaps seventeen summers, whom, at a single glance, one might surmise was remarkably pretty. e was stripped to the waist, and upon her snow- white back were numerous welts from which trick- led diminutive rivulets of crimson. Her head was Coe on against the stake to which she was bound, and she was evidently insensible. Witha oy. of astonishment and indignation Fear- less Frank leaped forward to sever her bonds, when like so many grim phantoms there filed out of the pene aia and circled around him, a score of hide- ously painted savages. One glance at the portly leader satisfied Frank as to his identity. It was the fiend incarnate—Sitting Bull! CHAPTER II. DEADWOOD DICK, THE ROAD-AGENT. “$500 Reward: For the apprehension and arrest of a notorious youn ons o who hails to the name of Deadwood Dick. is present where- abouts are somewhat contiguous to the Black Hills. For further information, and so forth, apply imme- diately to HuGH VANSEVERE, ** At Metropolitan Saloon, Deadwood City.” Thus read a notice posted up against a bi; pine tree, three miles above Custer City, on the banks of French creek. It was a large placard tacked up in ee view of all passers-by, who took the route north hrough Custer gulch in order to reach the infant city of the Northwest—Deadwood, wood! the scene of the most astonishing bus- tle and ney this year \.877.) The place where men are literally made rich and poor in one day and night. Prior to 1877 the Black Hills have been for a part undeveloped, but now, what a change! Deadwood districts every foot of available ground has been ‘‘ claimed” and staked out; the a has increased from fifteen to more than enty-five undred souls. h The streets are new-comers; crammed at hours; dance-houses and can-can dens exist; hun of , expectant, and hope- ful miners are working in the mines, ates harvest reaped by them is at all discouraging. All alo’ the gulch are a profusion of cabins, tents shanti making wood in reality a town of a doaen rolles £2 length, though some in- dividual has paired off a couple more t above Deadwood r, named ely beth City and Ten The formation in eg geet is something extraordinary, and from late reports, under vigorous and earnest phe re are yielding bey the most sanguine on. : e placer mines west of Camp Crook are being ope to satisfactory results, and, in fact, from Custer City in the south, to Deadwood in the ee, See ee ee temen A horseman riding north through Custer gulch, noticed the placard so prominently posted for public on, and with alow whistle, of ym ml wheeled his horse out of the : ~§ and rode over to the foot of the tree in qu ar ran his eyes over the few irregularly-written traced upon the notice. He was a youth of an age somewhere between six- teen and twenty, trim and com ly built, with a preponderance of muscular dev. ent and animal spirits; broad end eeey of th a shonlders; if posttio in the saddie a@ grace Oo! n e rare equaled; he made a fine picture for an artist’s t's one thing marred the captivating beauty of ora On. ose cture. form was clothed in a tight-fitting habit of buck-skin, which was colored a jetty black, and pre- sented a striking contrast to an one sees as a garment in the wild far West. And this was not all, either. A broad black hat was sloucced down over his ee: he wore a thick black vail over whe —— rtion of his face, through the eye-holes of which ere ¢ gigemed a pair of orbs of ——. intensity, and hands, large and knotted, were ina pair of kid gloves of a light color. : The ‘Black Rider’ he might have been justly termed, for his thoroughbred steed was as black as coal, but we have not seen fit to call him such—his name is Deadwood Dick, and let that suffice for the present. It was just at the edge of il 4 that he stopped before, and to e ed! wee ecard the Tonchiest rates or One r’s gulch. Above and 6n either side rose to.a stupendous hight the tree-fringed mountains in all their majestic gran- deur, . oii gine Seer Cate cinema eh heeeeen sou ark ¢ —a een by Vadie Custe's h. ver the cloak of night, for the sun had imparted its dying kiss on the mountain craters, and below, the gloom was thicken- ing with rapid strides. lowly, over and over, Deadwood Dick, outlaw, road-agent and outcast, read the notice, and then a wild sardonic laugh burst from beneath his mask—a terrible, blood-curdling laugh, that made even the powerful animal he bestrode start and prick up its ears, ‘Five hundred dollars reward for the apprehen- sion and arrest of a notorious yo d o who hails to the name of Deadwood Dick! Ha! ha! ha! isn’t that rich,now? Ha! ha! ha! arrest Deadwood Dick! Why, ’pon my word it is a sight for sore eyes. I was not aware that I had attained such ad rate notoriety as that document implies. They make me out a murderer before they get through, I ex- t. Can’t let me alone—everlastingly they must punching after me, as if I was some obnoxious tilence on the face of the earth. Never mind, sey oe ‘em keep on! Let them just continue their ounding game, and see which comes up on top wheu the bag’s shook. If more than one of ‘em don't t their fingers burned when they snatch Deadwood ick bald-headed, why I’m a Spring creek sucker, that’sall. Maybe I don’t know who foots the bill in this reward business; oh, no; maybe I can’t ride down to Deadwood and frighten three kind o’ ideas out of this Mr. Hugh Vansevere, whoever he may be. Ha! ha! the fool that h’isted that notice didn't Deadwood Dick, or he would never have placed his life in jeopardy by performing an act so uninterest- ing to the party in question. Hugh Vansevere; let me see—I don’t think I’ve got that registered in my collection of appellatives. Perhaps he is a new tool in the employ of the old mechanic.” Darker and thicker grew the night shadows. The after-harvest moon rose up to a sufficient hight to send a silvery bolt of tet om down into the silent gulch; like an on Arn out of the night Se a = rider s before the placard, motion- ent. head of Deadwood Dick was bent, and he was pores in a dee ore - rips bw e ig whole attention for a long, Ww ; then the impatient pawing of his horse aroused him, and he eat once Sore erect in his saddle. A last time his eyes wandered over the notice on the tree—a last time his terrible laugh made the mountains ring, and he guided his horse back into ae rough, uneven stage-road, and galloped off up the ac I will go and see what this Hugh Vansevere looks like!” he said, applying the spurs to his horse. “Ty be dashed if I want him to be so numerous with my name. with five hundred dollars affixed thereto, as a reward.” Midnight. Camp Crook, ni down in one of the wildest ch pockets of fhe Black Hills ion— and ing in the flood of moonlight that emanates from the glowing ball up afar in heaven's blue vault, is sudd and rudely aroused from her dreams, There is a wild clatter of hoofs, a chorus of st and varied voices swelling out in a wild mound song, and up through the very heart of the diminu- tive city, where the gold-fever has ee a few souls, dash a cavalcade of masked horse- men, attired in ceo eng me garb of the moun- taineer, and mounted on animals of superior speed raise a hand against, in uingl combat—Deadwood Dick, an name is in eve Straight on t the infant making weirdly beau music with their rollicking song, some of the voices being cultivated, and clear as the ote riers, wakened from ther Tepes ‘ew ers, waken m the’ , jum out of bed, come to the door, and stare at the oot ing cavalcade in a dazed sort of way. Others, think- ing that the noise is all resulting from an Indian at- tack, seize rifles or revolvers, as the case may be, and blaze away out of windows and loopholes at what- ever may be in the way to receive their bullets. But the road only pause a moment in their song to send a wild, sarcastic jogs ul then ~~ resume it, and merrily dash along up gulch, ringing of iron-shod hoofs beating a strange tatoo to the sound of the music. Sleepily the miners crawl back to their respective
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Deadwood Dick. 8 couches; the moon smiles down. on mother earth, and nature once more fans itself to sleep with the breath of a fragrant breeze. it Deadwood—magic city of the West! Not dead, nor even sleeping, is this headquarters of the Black Hills population at midnight, twenty- four hours su uent to the rush of the daring road- nts through ip Crook. eadwood just as lively and hilarious a place during the interval between sunset and sunrise as during the day. Saloons, dance-houses, and gambl- ing dens keep open all night, and stores do not close until alate hour. At one, two and three o’clock in the morning the streets present as lively an a r- ance as at any period earlier in the evening. ht- ing, shooting, stabbing and hideous swearing are features of the night; singing, drinking, dancing and gambling another. Nightly the majority of the miners come in from such claims as are within a radius of from six to ten miles, and seldom is it that they go away without their “‘load.” To be sure, there are some men in Deadwood who do not drink, but they are so few and scattering as to seem almost entirely a nonentity. It was midnight, and Deadwood lay basking in a flood of mellow moonlight that cast ge shadows from the pine forest on the , and glinted upon the rapid, muddy waters of tewood creek, which rumbles noisily by the infant metropolis on its wild Joumey toward the south. All the saloons and dance-houses are in full blast; shouts and maudlin yells rend the air, In front of one insignificant board, ‘‘ten-by-twenty,’’ an old wretch is singing out lustily: “Right this way ye cum, pilgrims, ter ther great Black Thee’ter; only costs ye four bits ter go in an’ see ther tender sex, already a-kickin’ in their striped stockin’s; only four bits, recollect, ter see ther greatest show on earth, so heer’s yer straight chance!” But, why the use of ae ? Already the shanty is packed, and judging rom the thunde: screeches and clapping of hands, the entertainment is such as suits the depraved tastes of the rufflanly *‘bums” who have paid their ‘four bits,’ and gone in, But look! Madly out of Deadwood gulch, the abode of thou- sands of lurking shadows, es a horseman. Straight through the main street of the noisy me- — he spurs, with hat off, and hair blowing backward in a jetty cloud. On, on, followed by the eyes of scores curious to know the meaning of his haste—on, and at last he halts in front of a large board shanty, over whose doorway is the illuminated canvas sign: “ Metropoli- tan Saloon, by Tom Young.” PYAR his appreech is heard, for instantly out of the ‘ Metropo ” there swarms a crowd of ,, gamblers and bummers to see “what the row is.” “Ts there a man among you, gentlemen, who bears the name of Hugh Vansevere?” asks the rider, who from his mi t dress we may judge is no other than Deadw Dick. m!"’ and a tall, rough- “That is my handle, looking customer of the Minnesotian order steps for- ward. ‘‘What mought yer lay be ag’in me?’ “A sure lay!’ hisses the masked road-agent, stern- ly. ‘You are advertising for one Deadwood Dick, and he has come to pay you his " The next instant there is a flash, a pistol report, a fall and a groan, the clattering of iron-shod hoofs; and then, ere anyone scarcely dreams of it, Deadwood Dick is gone! CHAPTER IL THE “‘CATTYMOUNT’’—A QUARREL AND ITS RESULTS. Tue ‘“ Metropolitan’? saloon in Deadwood, one week subsequent to the events last narrated, was the come of a larger ‘‘jamboree”’ than for many weeks ore. It was Saturday night, and up from the mines of Gold Run, Bobtail, Poor Man’s Pocket, and Spear- fish, and down from the Deadwood in miniature, per a s POUrCH & SWwOEED OF : Ten rs, the blear-eyed, used-up-loo * pilgrim,” amt the ine e alert for vitable wary sharp, ever on a new buck to fleece. The ‘‘ Metropolitan” was then, as now, the head- quarters of the Black Hills metropolis for arriving trains and stages, and as a consequence re- reived a goodly of the public patronage, A well-stocked bar of liquors in Deadwood was non est, yet the saloon in question boasted the host to be had. Every bar has its clerk at a pair of tiny scales, and he is ever kept more than busy weighing out the shining dust that the toiling miner has ob- tained by the sweat of his brow. i fingered clerk cannot oe six ounces of dust in his own pouch of a night, it clearly shows that he is not the business, Saturday night! The saloon is full to overflowing—full of brawny. rough, and grisly men; full of ribald “songs and maudlin curses; of foul atmospheres, impreg- nated with the fumes of vile whisky, and worse to- re and full of sights and scenes, exciting and re ve, we enter and work our way toward the center of the apartment, our attention is attracted by a coarse, brutal “ tough,’ evidently just fresh in from the diggings; who, mounted on the summit of an empty whisky cask, is exhorting in rough y in the tones of a bello Sul, to an ience of admiring miners assembled at his feet, which, by the way, are not of the most diminutive pattern im- .. We will listen: “Feller coots and liquidari behold before ye a descendant uv and Abel. Ye'll reckolect, - lost.” } \ ef ye’ve ever bin ter camp-meetin’, that Abel got knocked out o’ time by his cuzzin Cain, all becawse Abel war misproperly named, and warn’t able when the crysis arriv ter defen’ himsel’ in an able manner. “Hed he bin ‘heeled’ wi’ a shipment uv Black Hills sixes, thet would hev enad/ed him to distinguish hisself fer superyer ability. Now, as I sed before. I’m a lineal descendant uv ther notorious Ain and Cable, and I’ve lit down hyar among ye ter explaina few pints ‘bout true blessedness and true cussed- ness. “Oh! brethern, I tell ye ’'m a snorter, I am, when I git a-goin’—a wild screechin’ cattymount, right down frum ther sublime spheres up Starkey—ar’ a regular epizootic uv religyun, sent down frum cloud- dum and scattered permiscously ter ther forty winds uv ther earth.”’ } We the ‘‘cattymount,” and presently come | to a table at which a Pw! and handsome “ pil- | rim,”’ and a ferret-eyed sh are e ed at cards. | he first mentioned is a , robust fellow, some- where in the neighborhood of twenty-three years of | age, with clear-cut features, dark lustrous eyes, and teeth of apes whiteness. His hair is long and curl- | ing, and a soft brown mustache, waxed at the ends, is almost perfection itself. Evidently he is of quick temperament, for he hand- les the cards with a swift, nervous gcmene that surprises even the professional sharp himself, who | is a black, swarthy-looking customer, with ‘ villain ” rod written in every lineament of his countenance; is eyes, hair, and a tremendous mustache that he | occasionally strokes, are of a jetty black; did you | ever notice it?—dark hair and complexion predomi- nate among the gambling fraternity. Perhaps this is owing to the condition of the souls of some of these characters. The professional sharp in our case was no excep- | tion to the rule. He was attired in the hight of fashion, and the diamond eluster, inevitably to be found there, was on his shirt front; a jewel of won- derful size and brilliancy. “Ah! curse the luck!” exclaimed the sharp, sla Pp- down the cards; ‘‘ you have won again, pilgrim By the pine oe your luck ping and Iam five hundred out. is something astonishing “ Tuck!” laughed the other, coolly; ‘‘ well, no. Ido not call it luck, for I never have luck. We'll call it one tet ; led th bler, b ** Just as you say,” Ww. e gambler, forth a new pack, « Ghance and luck are then twin companions. Will you continue longer, Mr.—” 1; burn,”’ finished the pilgrim. ‘“Ah! yes—Mr, Redburn, you continue?” “T will play as long as there is anything to play for,”’ again finished Mr. R., twisting the waxed ends oe) << Tene calmly, ‘Maybe you have got your | e ay a No; I'll play all night to win back what I have }? it A youth, attired in buck-skin, and apparently a couple of years Agetect than Redburn, came saun- | tering along at juncture, and seeing an unoccu- wee chair at one end of the table (for burn and he gambler sat at the sides, facing each other), he took ession of it forthwith “Hello!” and the sharp swore roundly. ‘ Who bats to mix in your lip, pi e” “Nobody, as I know of. Thought I'd squat right here, and watch your sleeves/’’ was the cant re- tort, and the youth laid a cocked six-shooter on the table in front of him. “Go on, gentlemen; don’t let me be the means of | spoiling your fun.” The gambler uttered a curse, and dealt out the pasteboards. The youth was watching him intently, with his sharp black eyes. He was of medium hight, straight as anarrow, and | clad in a loose-fitting costume. A broad sombrero was set jauntily upon the left side of his head, the | hair of which been cut close down to the sealp. | His face—a pleasant, handsome, youthful face—was devoid of hirsute covering, he having evidently been recently handled by the barber. The game between Mr. Redburn and. the gambler aie vorpee the eyes of he whom we have just de- seri were on the sharp constantly. The cards went down on the table in vigorous slaps, and at last Mr. Pilgrim Redburn raked in the stakes. “Thunder ‘n’ Moses!”’ ejaculated the sharp, pull- ing out his watch—an elegant affair, of ps gold, and studded with diamonds—and laying it forcibly down upon the table. “There! what will you plank on that!” Redburn took up the time-piece, turned it over and over in his hands. cpenen and shut it, gave a glance at the works, and t handed it over to the youth, whom he instinctively felt was his friend. Redburn had come from the to dig gold, and therefore was a st: rin wood, “What is its money value?” he asked, familiarizing his tone. ‘‘ Good, I suppose.” - “Yes, perfectly wn and chaep nt two = | be she junnenite reply. “ you lack fu i \me, Iam three hundred ahead of this cuss yet, and—”’ “You'd better quit where you are!”’ said the other, Gepieixaly, “You'll lose the next round, mark my wo “Ha! ha!” laughed Redburn, who had begun to anew symptoms of car cpm “ae ~ elk chances. Here, you garmin, ‘ll cover wal two hundred déflars.” Without more ado the stakes were planked, the | cards dealt, and the e began. «— youth, whom we will call Ned Harris, was not e, He took the revolvers from the table, changed his | | A No. 1 dead-beat and swindler gee: Looking at his finger-nails he also looked into and no one could fail to see how it was going b watching the cunning light | down, and next instant, after the sharp had raked in “Come! don’t be all pighteeient, it!” Redburn obeyed; he no other choice. “ Cock it and cover your man!”’ “Who do you mean?” ‘The cuss under my left-hand aim.” Again the “ pilgrim ” felt that he could not afford to do otherwise than obey. So he took “ squint” at the gambler’s left breast. after which Harris withdrew the siege of his left weapon, although he still covered the young East- erner the same. Quietly he moved around to where the card-sharp sat, white and trembling. “Gentlemen!” he yelled, in a clear, ringing voice, “will some of you step this way a moment?” A crowd gathered around in a moment: then the youth resumed: “ Feller-citizens, all of you know how to play cards, no doubt. What is the penalty of cheating, out here in the Hills?” For a few seconds the room was wrapt in silence; | then a chorus of voices gave answer, using a single word: “ Death!” - “ Exactly,” said Harris, yon ye “When a sha hides in Chinaman fashion his sleeve, u | reckon that’s what you call cheatin’, don't you?” it ene the size of it,’’ assented each bystander, mly. Ned Harris pressed his pistol-muzzle against the ambler’s forehead, inserted his fingers in each of the capacious sleeves, and a moment later laid sev- eral high cards upon the table. A murmur of incredulity went through the crowd Ha pasar ate Even * pilgrim ’’ Redburn was aston- After removing the cards, Ned Harris turned and leveled his revolver at the head of the young man | from the Fast. “Your name?” he said, briefly, ‘‘is—’’ * Harry Redburn.” “Very well. Harry Redburn, that bler un- der cover of your pistol is guilty of a crime, punish- able in the Black Hills by death. As you are his victim—or, rather, were to be—it only remains for you to aim straight and rid img country of an “Oh! no!” thought of cannot, I cannot! “You can/”. said servis, sternly; “go on—you must salt that card-sharp, or 1°l certainly salt you!’ A deathlike silence followed. ** One!” said Harris, after a moment. Redburn grew very pale, but not paler was he than the card-sharp just opposite. Redburn was no cow- ard; neither was he accustomed to the desperate character of the population of the Hills. Should he shoot the tricky wretch before him, he knew he should be always calling himself a murderer, On the contrary, in the natural laws of Deadwood, such a murder would be classed justice. ‘“* Two!” said Ned Harris, drawing his pistol-ham- asped Redburn, horrified at the the life of a fellow-creature—“ I | mer back to full cock. ‘Come, pilgrim, are you going to shoot?’ Another silence; only the low breathing of the epgrjetem, could be heard. “ ree! +9 Redburn raised his pistol and. fired—blindly and carelessly, not knowing or caring whither. went the compulsory death-dealing bullet There was a heavy fall, a groan of , as the gambler dropped over on the floor; then for the space of a few seconds all was the wildest confusion throughout the mammoth saloon. Revolvers were in every hand, knives flashed in the glare of the lamplight, curses and threats were in scores of mouths, while some of the vast surging crowd cheered lustily. At the table Harry Redburn still sat, as motionless as a statue, the revolver still held in his hand, his face white, his eyes , There he remained, the center of general attrac- tion, with a hundred pair of blazing eyes leveled at him from every side. **Come!”’ said Ned Harris, in a low tone, ta ping him on the shoulder—‘“ come, pardner; let's att ou _ of this, for times will be brisk soon. You've wound- ed one of the biggest card-devils in the Hills, and he'll be rearin’ pretty quick. Look! d’ye see thet feller comin’ yonder, who was preachin’ from on top of the barrel, a bit ago? Well, that is Catamount | Cass, an’ he’s a pard of Chet Diamond, the feller you salted, an’ them fellers behind him are his gang. pe eel follow me, Henry, and I'll nose our way out of here.” Redburn signified his readiness, and with a cocked six-shooter in either hand Ned Harris led the way. CHAPTER IV. SAD ANITA—THE MINE LOCATER—TROUBLE. Srraicut toward the door of the saloon he marched, the muzzles of the grim sixes clearing a path for
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4. him; for Ned Harris had become notorious in Dead- wood for his coolness, courage been said of him that he would “just es lief shute a man aster look at im,” and perhaps the speaker was not far from right. Anyway, he led off through the savage-faced audi- ence with a composure that was remarkable, and, strange to say, not a hand was raised to stop him un- til he came face to face with Catamount Oass and his ang; here was where the youth had expected mo- estation and hindrance, if anywhere. Catamount Cass was a rough, illiterate “tough” of the mountain species, and possessed more brute courage than the eneral run of his of men, and bull-dog determination that made him all the more | danmerous a | to again venture forth, gentlemen,” and a smile— | evidentl dangerous as an enemy. : Harry Redburn kept close at Ned Harris’ heels, a cocked ‘‘ six” in either hand ready for any emer- ency. ‘ It took but a few moments before the two ies met, the “ Cattymount” throwing out his foot to block the ith. “Hello!” roared the * ugh folding his huge knotty arms across his part bared breast; “ho! ho! whoa up thar, pilgrims! on’ ye go ter bein’ so fast. Fo’kes *harn’t so much in a hurry now-’days as they uster war, Ter be sure ther Lord manyfac- tered this futstool in seven eb sumtimes I think he did, an’ then, ag’in, my geological ijees convince me he didn’t.” ‘*What has that to do with us?’’ demanded Ned sternly. ‘‘Lopine ye’d better spread, some of you, if you don’t want me to run a canyon through your midst. Preach to some other pilgrim than me; I’m in a hurry!” “Haw! haw! and audacity. Ithad | 8 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. | , my ey a an’ I think prob’ble ye be, I ain’t a-goin’ | fer ter let yer off so nice and easy. P’arps ye kin tell | who fired the popgun, a minnit ago, w’at basted my | ole pard?”’ “T shall not take trouble to tell!’ replied Ned, fin- gering the trigger of his left six uneasily, want to know who salted Chet Diamond, the worst blackleg, trickster and card-player in Dakota, all you've got to do is to go and ask him!” “Hold!” cried Harry Redburn, stepping out from behind Harris; ‘I'll hide behind no man’s shoulder. T salted the gambler—if you call shooting salting— and I’m not d to repeat the action by salting a dozen more just of his particular style.” Ned Harris was surprised. He had set Redburn down as a faint-hearted, du- - saw now that there was en ees | of him, after all. “Come on, young man!” and eaped broke the barrier, and mid the crack of pistol-shots and shouts of rage, they cleared the saloon. Once outside, Ned Harris led the way. * Come along!” he said, dodghig along the shadowy side of the street; “‘ we'll have o scratch vel, for them up-range ‘toughs’ will follow us, reckon. They’re a game gang, and "hain’t the most desirable kind of enemies one could wish for. I'll take you over to my coop, and you can lay low there until this jamboree blows over. You'll have to promise me one thing, however, ere I can admit you as a mem- ber of my household.” “Oertainly. What is it?” and Harry Redburn re- doubled his efforts in order to keep alongside his swift-footed guide, “Promise me that you will divulge nothing, no matter what you may seeor hear. Also that, should ou fall in love with one who is a member of my —— you will forbear and not speak of love to er. “Tt is a woman, then?”’ “Yes—a young lady. “I will pro’ ;—how canI afford to do other- _ wise, under the existing circumstances. But, tell me, why did you force me to shoot that gambler?”’ ‘tHe was a rascal, and cheated you.” “T know; but I did not want his life; Iam averse to bloodshed.” “Sol perceived, and that made me all the more determined you should salivate him. You'll find before you're in the Hills long that it won’t do to take lip or lead from any one. A green pilgrim is the first to get salted; Lillustrated how to serve em!” Redburn’s eyes sparkled. He was just beginning to see into the different phases of this wild exciting life. “Good!” he exclaimed, warmly. “I have much to thank you for. Did I kill that card-sharp?” “No; you simply perforated him in the right side. This way. The been rnnning straight up the main street. Now os turned a corner and darted down one that Mey ee trim bo’ tepped be- momen ra ure step fre thn fom, out of the dow of «ney frame ja of creamy whiteness was upon the arm of Ned Harris. . “This way, pilgrims,” said a low musical voice, and at the same instant a gust of wind lifted the jaunty sombrero from the speaker's h revealing a most wonderful wealth of long glossy hair; “the ‘to *are after you, and you cannot find a bet- ter») to coop than in here.’’ The soft hand drew Neu Harris inside the b , which was finished, but unoccupied, and Redburn followed, no’ loth to get into a place of safety. So far, Deadwood had n — him favorably as being the most peaceable city within the scope of a continent. Into an inner room of the building they went, and the door was closed behind them. The apartmeng was small and smelled hte gor lumber. A table and afew chairs comp the furniture; a dark “Ef you | | trampled u | beauty that even excessive dissipation could not, ob- | lute, and devoid of sensual expression; hair of raven | color and of remarkable length;—such was the pic- | Lord onl | come so debased and—”’ Yas, I obsarve ye be; but if ye’re | | however, that she comes of a Vi | said Harris, with a grim lantern burned suspended from the ceiling by a wire. Redburn eyed the strange youth as he and Harris were handed seats. Of medium hight and symmetrically built; dress- ed ina carefully tanned costume of buck-skin, the | vest weve | fringed with the fur of the mink; w a jaunty Spanish sombrero; boots on the dainty fee of patent leather, with tops reaching to the knees;- a face slightly sun-burned, yet showing the traces a: literate; eyes black and piercing; mouth firm, reso- ture of the youth as beheld by Redburn and Harris. | * You can remain here till you think it will be safe . s er ot pte about the speaker's lips. “ -evel eye: -evening!”* | nodded Harris, with a quizzical stare. The next | moment the youth was gone. “Who was that chap?” asked Redburn, not a little bewildered. “That?—why that’s Calamity Jane!” “Calamity Jane? What a name,” “Yes, she's an odd one. Can ride like the wind, shoot like a sharp-shooter, and swear like a trooper, Is here, there and everywhere, seemingly all at one time, Owns this coop and two or three other lots in Deadwood; a herding ranch at Laramie, an interest ina ay Hg claim near Elizabeth City, and the nows how much more.” “But itis not a woman?” “ Reckon ‘tain’t nothin’ else.” “God forbid that a child of mine should ever be- ‘*Hold! there are yet a few redeeming qualities about her. She was rvined—” and here a shade dark as a thunder-cloud passed over Ned Harris’ face— | ** and set adrift upon the world, homeless and friend- less; yet she has gee fought her way through the storm, without ask anybody’s assistance. True, she may not now have a heart; that was | n, years ago, but her character has | not suffe blemish since the day a foul wretch stole away her honor!” ** What is her real name?” **T do not know; few in Deadwood do. It is said, | nia City, Nevada, family of respectability and in ence,” At this juncture there was a great hubbub outside, and instinctively the twain drew their revolvers, ex- pecting that Catamount Cass and his toughs had | overed their retreat, and were about to make an | attack. But soon the gang were heard to tramp pak making the night hideous with their hoarse e yells. “They'll pay a visit to every shanty in Deadwood,” smile, ana if they don’t | find us, which ‘they won't, they'll h’ist more than a bw oa of bug-juice over their defeat. Come, let’s be go! ng.” They left the building and once more emerged on- to the darkened street, Ned sid, tights lead. “Follow me, now,” he said, t nom 4 his belt, and we'll get home before su , after all.” He struck out ee the gulch, or, rather, down it, for his course lay southward. Redburn followed, and in fifteen minutes the lights of Deadwood—magic city of A pl reer ag te left ee a meg wa: ts) e rugged mountain stage-ro that, after leaving Deadwood on its way to Camp and Custer City in the south, runs alternately through deep, dark canyons and with anease | and rapidity that showed him to we with the route. About three miles below Deadwood he struck a trail through a transverse canyon run- | ning north-west, through which flowed a small , known as Brown's creek. The bottom was acquainted fevel and smooth, and a brisk walk of a half-hour brought them to where a horse was tied to an alder sapling. R You mount and ride on ahead until you come to the end of the canyon,” said , Un the horse. “I will follow on after you, and almost as soon as you.” Redburn would have offered some ee oe the other motioned for him to mount and be off, so | he concluded it best to obey. The animal was a fiery one, and soon carried him | out of sight of Ned, whom he left standing in the yellow moonlight. Sooner than he expected the gorge came to an poe termination in the face of a stupendous wall of rock, and nothing remained to do wait for young moe ae : nly a trif eé soon came, tro leisurely up, only a e Or and slag the enimal by hs ° way!” and se! e y the | bit he led horse and rider into a black gaping fissure in one side of the canyon, that had hitherto esca Redburn’s eg oh was a Ee a> ranean passage, bare! eno to horse and rider. Red ca ote ws forced to dis- mount and bring up the rear. “How far do weejourney in this shape?’ he de- to him a long while. manded, after what seem replied Ned, and the next instant “No further,” oe ed into a small, circular pocket in the | mi of the mountains—one of those beauteous | flower-strewn valleys which are often found in the Black Hills. This “pocket,” as they are called, consisted of perhaps fifty acres, walled in on every side by rug- mountains as steep, and steeper, in some p. 5 an a house-roof. the western side Brown's creek had its source, and leaped m down from | ledge to ledge into the valley, across which it flowed, | sinking into the earth on the eastern side, only to urna’ again, in strength. The valley was one vast, indiscriminate bed of . the canyon, with renewed | and supported her on his | of Anita’s head moment later the three entered the cabin, a model of ~ Crook | m old fellow, who walk wild, fragrant flowers, whose volume of was almost rere | when first greeting pr ah Every color and variety inginn ble was here, all in the most perfect bloom. In the center of the valley stood, a log-cabin, overgrown with clinging vines. There was a light in the window, and Harris pointed the fs = 7 with young Redburn, he emerged froni “There’s my coop, m. Th for a time, at Seaet” e cmpeddile: “s ace to 2. en they set off down across S iving at the cabin in due time. Penn Sree The door was open; a young woman sweet, yet ‘ou will be safe the horse and _ Sad-faced, was seated upon the steps, fast asleep Phe we wren — an involuntary cry of incredulity n as his eyes rested upon the picturc-. _—_ the pure, sweet face surrounded aya wealth rs) ‘golden, glossy hair, and the sylph-like form, so perked In every contour, But a charge of silence = H » made por eee e@ young man knelt by the side of the sleepin fs and imprinted a kiss upon the fresh, unpotiated , which caused the sleeping beauty to smile in her dreams. A moment later, however, sh sprung to her feet with a meathad soreen. sich ut Oh, Ned!” she gasped, trembling, as she sew, him, ‘how you frightened me. I had a aeags—onk auc 3 a sweet dream! and I thought he camand” penetrating blue eyes rested upon Harry Bla; A moment she gazed at hi : tion: then, with eee te m as in a sort of-fascina deathly pale, Ned Harris Suddenly did she stop as, for the first nays her -- began to retrea i arm. Be calm, Anita,” he said, in a tone. ‘This is a young app my whom I have brought here to our home for a few days until it will be safe for him to be seen in Deadwood. Mr. burn, I make you acquainted with Anita.” A courteous bow from Redburn, a slight inclination and the introduction was made. A gentle, reassuring Red- ox my = ene luxury. ow you are up so early, dear?’’ you Harris asked, as he unbuckled his belt and it "te upon a in the wall. “You are rarely as spry, eh?” ' ved hf replied the “Ind I have not been to bed ata girl, a weary smile wreathing her lips. ‘I was nerv- mp feared something was going to happen, so I ger, Teuppose, "and the youth ienehod cayly f Buk ’ ’ e you ‘ . “Bu need mot fear. No. one inv: ve fe stepped quickly, Servant : e our little | ou Paradise, Tight away. What is your opinion of it, _ Redburn “IT should say not. I think this little mountain . with en- retreat is without equal,” replied H th you ever. “The ox — mre oy a delightful | one . that I will perha: tell vil aH muainnty. ps you, another time, the mountains, and the Day soon dawned over early morning sunlight fell with charming effect into) the little “pocket,” with its countless thousands of: odorous flowers, and the little ivy-clad cabin nestling. down among them all. Sweet, sad-faced Anita re a sumptuous: out of antelo " —_— repast k and the eggs: of wild birds, with dainty side dishes of late summer: berries, and a luscious melon which had been; grown on a eultivated patch, contiguous to the: cabin. est did ample justice to the Both Harris and his meal, for they had neither eaten anything since the shed, Ned arose pois noon. When they had m dner, I shall leave you the table, sa goin here for a few days, during which time I shall pro- bably be mostly away on ness, Make yourself at home and see that Anita is properly protected; I va return ,in a week at the furthest;—perhaps in a e took down his rifle and belt from the wall, } buckled on the latter, and half an hour later left the “pocket.” That was a day of days to Hany Red- e plotaresthe e val- ler romped on the luxuriant grass and gathered ld flowers, alternately, At night he sat in the cabin door and listened to the oo of the night birds and the incessant hooting of the mountain owls pag = way, are very abundant throughout the All efforts to en v vi fruitless a gage Anita in conversation proved © following day both were considerably as- tonished to perceive that there was a stranger in their Paradise ;—a bow-| , hump-backed, grisly little with a staff. He approached the cabin, and Redburn went out to find who he was, Gude-mornin’!’ nodded General Nix, (for it was he) with a grin. kim over inter this dcestrict | burn. He rambled about surveyor an’ mine-locater. I've locate pee nor forty thousan’ mines in my day, more or “7 ies’ | ter 7 tye fer if Don’ seem ter recognize ycr unis; ? boy; I'm Nix Walsingham Nix, Require geological $ a consider’ble more of less than less _ ess—ginerally of more. I perdict frum ther geological formation o’ this nest an’ a dream I hed last n sum uv ther b: t veins right in th yere valley as ye’ll find in ther Hills!” ht, thet thar’s ° “Humph! no gold here,” replied Redburn, who . had learned from study and experie to guessa fat strike. ‘It is out of the channel. “No; et’s right in the channel.” % Well, I'll not dispute you. How did you get into the valley ?”” “Through ther approvingly. ‘‘ See’da feller kim down ther canyon, nee how ; pass,’’ and the General chuckled - ~
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Deadwood Dick. ~ - yesterday, sol nosed about ter find whar he kim m, that’s how I got here; ’sides, I hed a dream. about this place.” “*Indeed!’’ Redburn was puzzled how to act undeir the circumstances. Just then there came a piercinj; : seream from the direction of the cabin. What could it mean? Was Nix an enemy, and Y was some one else of his gang attacking Anita? Certainly she was in trouble! CHAPTER V. SITTING BULL—THE FAIR CAPTIVE. FEARLESS FRANK step back aghast, as he saw * the inhuman chief of the Sioux—the cruel, grim- faced warrior, Sitting Bull; shrunk back, and laid his hand upon the butt of a revolver. “Ha!” he articulated, “is that you, chief? You, and at’such work as this?’’ there was stern reproach in the youth’s tone, and certain it is that the Sioux warrior heard the words spoken. Frade of a dog by such a dastard deed. For shame, I say!” Instantly the form of the i warrior straighten- ed i like an arrow, and painted hand flew to- ward the pistols in his belt. But the succeeding second he seemed to change his intention; his hand went out toward the youth in greeting: “The Scarlet Boy is right,” he said, with as much venessas a red-skin can conceive. “ Sitting Bull ns to his words as he would to those of a brother. Scarlet Boy is no stranger in the land of the Sioux; he is the friend of the t chief and his warriors. Once when the storm- were at war over the pine forests and picture rocks of the Hills; when the Great Spirit was sending fiery messengers down in vivid streaks from the skies, the B hief cast a thunderbolt in playfulness at the feet of Seer Bull. The shock © the hand of the Great Spirit di not escape me; for hours I lay like one slain in bat- tle. My warriors were in consternation; they ran - hither and thither in affright, calling on the Manitou to preserve their chief. You came, Scarlet Boy, in the midst of all the panic;—came, and though then but a Stripling, you rhe simple remedies that restored Sitting Bull to the arms of his warriors.* “From that hour Sitting Bull was your friend—is your friend, now, and will as long as the red-men wnthaake youjohiet.' ahd Féaities Frank grasped : you, chief ;’’ an: ess Fra the Indian’s hand and wrung it warmly. ‘‘I believe you mean all you say. But I am surprised to find ou engaged at such work as this. I have been told hat Sitting Bull made war only on warriors—not on women. An ugly frown darkened the savage’s face—a frown bow op was depicted a number of slumbering pas- ions. “The pale-face girl is the last survivor of a train that the warriors of Sitting Bull attacked in Red Canyon. Sitting Bull lost many warriors; yon pale squaw shot down full a half-score before she could be captured; she belongs to the warriors of Sitting and not to the great chief himself.” “Yet you have the power to free her—to yield her up tome. Consider, chief; are you not enough my friend that you can afford to give me the pale-face 1? she has been tortured sufficiently to artist rarer thirst for vengeance.” Si Bull was silent. “What will the Scarlet Boy do with the fair maid- en of his tribe?” “Bear her to a place of safety, chief, and care for her until I can her friends—probably she has friends in the East.” “Tt shall be as he says. oe will withdraw his braves, and Scarlet Boy can have the red-man’s, ” A friendly hand-shake between the youth ar Sioux chi a word from the latter to ft’ oo: the painted warriors, and the next instant the « dad AY ioe im cleared of the meee. — Frank then hastened to an proach the in- captive, and, with a coup’ knife, cut the bonds’ that held * P< hashed mom stake. Gently he laid her on t* ye grass, and arrang- ed about her half-nude for" , 4.5 garmen Sitting e Sa Bull’s warriors had torn oF” and #oon he hi nce more clothed properly. Tr atlll remained for bY. remained for ” to restore her to conscious- ea peneg = t ge | to be no easy task, for she of face and figr P4~ yew was peren more beeutiful first _4f_ than one wo ve imagin - a Of a delicate blonde complexion, with anged cheeks, she made a v retty pic- = ca face framed as it was in a wild Sehevoled ry of auburn hair. hatful of cold water from a neighboring spring oe ianod crating there was a con- and nor Hens nok mise and te youth gently supported cruel captors have vamosed. Lucky I came along just as I did, or it’s likely a killed you.” “Oh! sir, how can I ever you for rescuing *A fast, me from those merciless ‘fiends!” and the maiden cae De a grateful glance. “They whipped me, e y | “YT know, lady—all betanse you defended yourself | in Red Canyon.” . * i “suppose so: but how did you find out so much, and, also, effect release from the savages?” Fearless Frank * ed up against the tree which had been used as the torture-stake, and related what | is alr known to the reader. When ‘he ‘had finished, the rescued captive seized his ‘hand ‘between both her own, and thanked him warmly. “Had itnot been for you, sir, no one but our God knows what would have been my fate. Oh! si what can I do, more than to t you a thousan times, to repay you for the great service you have wens thi ag hing “No 3 y; not that I think of ‘at pres- ent. Was it not my duty, while I had Saseaten to free you from the hands of those barbarians?, Cer- tainly it was, and I deserve nothanks. But me what is your name, and were your friends all killed in the train from which you weré taken?” *“T had no friends, sir, save a 1ady whose acquaint- ance I made on the journey out.from Cheyenne. As to my name—you can call me Miss Terry.” “Mystery!” in blank amazement. “ Yes;” with a ¢a laugh—** Mystery, if you pay at —— is ; . Spans brigh ee ” an é youth began to ten. ‘“‘ Miss Terry, to be sure; My atoeet ha! ha! good joke. I shall call.you the latter. Have you friends and rela- tives East?” “No, I came West to meet my father, who is somewhere in the Black Hills.” “Do you know at what place?” “T do not.” “I fear it will be a hard matter to find him, then. The Hills now have a mm vom population of about twenty-five thousand souls. Your father would be one to find out of that lot.” A faint smile came over the girl’s face. ‘I should know pepe among fifty thousand, if n ;? she said, “ although I have not seen him for years.” She failed to mention how many, arities she would recognize him by. deaf or dumb? Fearless Frank or what uli- Was he blind, eieniect around him, and saw that a path ed and steep led up to the prairie above, *Come,” he said, offering his arm, “ i to the plains and pa oe ee “Where to?” asked Miss Terry, aiid toys welts across her back pa * “Deadwood is m course, however, if i rising with an ef- were swollen and destination, Ican deviate my will accommodate you.” “Oh! no; you must not inconvenience yourself on my account. Iam of little or ne consequence, you She leaned upon his arm, and they asce bi Lah ag? plain abo =, we rank’s horse was near by where the scar- let youth had taken sinseremnonioria Sembee. htly conjectured view the chiettabe Sitting. Bull, is wy ae where he had last: seen them. pr ee Neither were to be seen, now. Probably Nix had rejoined the train, and it, was out of eye-shot behind a = in the pising. “Were you looki; ” Ali looking inf ae eae by? ca ary one?’ Alice asked, ~ ree; ves with @ train when I first heard your get th the "ooys, and came to investigate. I rsd ey have, Fane on without me.” jo ey to xf gh nem! Will we have to make the NYon. che Hills alone?” pe) less we should providentially fall in with a «4 _- De overtaken by a stage.” a” 40 you not — . r lad . ere Fearless Frank, 3; you can d 4aW conclusions from that.” Abs He went and caught the horse. ed a blanket in the saddle so that she could ride side-fashion, and assisted her to mount. The sun was touching the lips of the horizon with & golden kiss: more time than Frank had supposed had elapsed since he left the train. cuts nokta ais. taste Baoeoareasy oo aot n e n rays 0 “ea couple of coyotes were . lato view a few rods away; birds were ng homeward; a = fume-laden breeze swept down from the Black — = fanned the pink cheeks of Alice Terry into a glow. *““We cannot go far,” said Frank, thoughtfully, “before darkness will overtake us, Perhaps we a pad a i be Bee here, oa are and water. e m0) wew e n reh gar — “ue plan was adopted; they cam: in the break, or *‘ canal,” near wows ‘alice had teen tortured. Out of his saddle- Frank brought forth crack- ers, biscuit bal dri ig moe! pa with aa kling water from the spring in the chapar:! made a meal good enough for anybody. ba = t was warm; no fire was needed. spread on grass served as a te erg for Alice; the canes yes in scarlet lay wi resting ainst side of his horse. The least movement Fearless Frank astir. He found the rivulet flowing from the spring to no | metropolis—Deadwood, magic city of the 5 abound with trout, and caught and dressed some for the morning meal. a. Alice was awake by the time breakfast was. , She bathed her face and hands in the stream, com ed her long auburn hair through aes eo and look- ed sweeter than on the previous night—at jeast, so thought Fearless Frank. “'The day promises to be, delightful, does it not?” she remarked, as she seated herseif to partake of the repast. 7 ‘Exactly. Autumn months are ever enjoyable in the West.” . The meal dispatched, no delay was made in leav the place. |, d®earless Frank strode along beside his horse and its fair.rider, chatting pleasantly, and at the same | time making a close observation of his surroun .He knew he was in parts f dings. requented by both red and white es and it would do no harm to keep on one’s guard. — traveled all day and reached Sage creek at sunset. Here they remained over night, an ear’ start on the succeeding morning. — v That day they made good pro; in consequence of Frank’s purchase of a horse at creek from some friendly Crow Indians, and darkness overtook a at the mouth of Red Canyon, where they went into camp. By steady pushing they reached Rapid creek the next night, for no halt was made at Custer City, and for the first time since leaving the torture-ground, camped with a miner’s family. As yet no ins or shanties had been erected here, canvas tents serving in the stead; to-day there are between fifty and a hundred wooden structures. Alice was charmed with the wild grandeur of .the mountain scenery—with the countless acres of Dlos- soms and flowering shrubs—with the romantic and picturesque surroundings in general, and was very emphatic in her praises. One day of rest was taken at — Creek; then the twain pushed on, and when night again overtook them, they rode into the bustl Bore orth-w CHAPTER VI. ONLY A SNAKE—LOCATING A MINE. Harry Repsurn hurried off toward the cabin, which was some steps away. In Anita’s scream there were both terror and affright. Walsingham Nix, the hump-backed, bow-l explorer and prospecter hobbled after him, using: staff for — He had heard the scream, but — “ among the “gals” taught him that a feminine shriek rarely, if ever, meant anything. Redburn arrived at the cabin ina few flying bounds, and leaped into the kitchen. There, crouched upon the floor in one corner, allin a little heap, pale, trembling and terrified, was Anita, Before her, squirming along over the sand-scrubbed floor, evidently disabled by a blow, was an enormous lack-snake It was creeping away instead of toward Anita, leaving a faint trail of crimson in its wake; yet the yo girl’s face was blanched with fear. . oa acccomeed Ls en demanded Redburn, pointing to the coiling serpent. “Ugh! yes; it is horrible.” “But, it isharmless. See: some one has given it a blow across the back, and it is disabled for yr? Anita looked up into his handsome face, wonder- ingly. ey guv et a rap across the spinal column, w’en I kim into the valley,” said General Nix, his head in at the door, a ludicrous elongating his grisly features. ‘ ‘Twar a-goin’ guv me a or so uv et’s tongue, more or less—consider’bly less of more than more of less—so I jest salivated it across ther back, kerwhack!” Anita screamed again as she saw the General, he was so rough and homely. “Who are you?” she managed to articulate as Redburn her to rise from the floor. ‘What are you doing here, where you were not invited?” There was a d of haughtiness in her tone that Redburn did not m she possessed. The ‘‘General”’ rubbed the end of his nose, chuck- led audibly, then laughed, outright. “TI opine this ar’a free country, ain’t it, marm, more or less? W’en a feller kerflummuxes rite down onter a payin’ streek I opine he’s coin’ ter roost thar till he gits reddy to vamoose, ain’t he? “ But, sir, my brother was the first to discover this — and build us a home here, and he claims that belongs to him.” ‘““He do? more or less—consider’bly less of more than more uv less, eh? Yas, I kno’ yer er— leastways hev seen him an’ heerd heeps about him. Letters uv his name spell Ned Harris, not?” “ Yes, sir} but how can you know him? Few do, in Dead “Ne mind thet, my puss. Ole be my mt Nix do kno’ a few things yet, ef he ar’ a hard old nut fer w’ich thar is not cra’kin’.” Anita looked at Redburn, yee * “Brother would be very if he were to re- — find this man here: would you ad- rok arn of thaw wuiiitee that he will have to vacate,” * ie cance : % disagreed the old Bian wo * cum-a-rouse . | I’m hayr, an’ thar’s no yearthly use 0’ ” that. Barrin’ ye ar’ a right peart-lookin’ kid, stranger, al- low me he S ecahkotes it would take a dozen, more or nsider’bly less #¥ more than more 0" jess —ter put me out.” urn laughed heartily. The old fellow’s brava- do amused him. Anita, however, was silent; she pus
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6 —— a pi in her protector to arrange matters sat- rik actorily. “That savor strongly of rebellion,’ Redburn. ob- served, sitting down upon a lounge that stood hard by. ‘ Besides, you have an advantage; I would not attack you; you are old and unfitted for combat; de- formed and unable to do battle.” “Exactly !”’ the “‘ General ” confidently announced. ‘* What good can come of your remaining here?” demanded Anita. “Sit down, marm, sit down, an’ I'll perceed ter di- vest myself uv w’at little infermation Ive got stored up in my noddle. Ye see, mum, my name’s Walsing- ham Nix, at yer_sarvice—Wals bein’ my reat, great grandad’s fronticepiece, while Nix war her hind-wheeler, like nor w’at a. he-mule ar’ w’en hitched ter a ‘schooner.’ Ther Nix family were a reat one, bet yer false teeth; originated about ther ime Joner swallered the whale, down nigh Long Branch, and ’ve bin handed down frum time ter time till ye behold in me ther last survivin’ pilgrim frum ther ancestral block. Thar was one remarkable pe- cooliarity about ther Nix family, frum root ter stump, an’ thet war, they war nevyer known ter refuse a iff or an advantageous offer; in this respeck they fare a striking resemblance ter the immortell G’orge Washington. G’orge war innercent; he ked never tella lie. So war our family; they never hed it in their hearts to say Wiz to an offer uv a good feed or | a decoction o’ brandy. “Tt war a disease—a hereditary affection uv ther hull combined system. The terrible malady attacked see’d thet time when I c’u’d resist the temptation an’ coldly say ‘nix’ w’en a brother pilgrim volun- teered ter make a liberal dispensation uv grub, ter- barker, or vag sates. Nix ar’ a word thet causes sorrer an’ suffering ter scores ‘n’ scores o’ people, more or | nerally more uv less than less 0’ more —an’ tharfore I nevyer feel it my duty, as a Christ- yun, ter set a bad example w’ich others may foller.”’ Redburn glanced toward Anita, a quizzical expres- sion upon his genial face. ‘IT fail to see how that has any reference as to the | » cause of your stay among us,”’ he observed, amused at the —— lingo of the pro ter. “Sart'in not, sart’in not! I had just begun ter git thar. I’ve only bin gi’in’ ye a geological ijee uv ther | Nix family’s formation; I more clearly, thr’u’ veins an’ channels hitherto un- explored, endin’ up wi’ a reg’ lar hoss-car proposal. hen the old fellow proceeded with a rambling “*yvarn,”’ pia more guesses than actual information and continued on in this strain: “So thar war gold. I went ter work an’ swallered a pill o’ opium, w’ich made me sleep, an’ while I war snoozin’ pt about ther perzact place whar thet gold war secreted. It war in a little pocket be- peat She bed of a spring frum which flowed a little creeklet. “Next mornin’, bright an’ early, I shouldered pick, shuvyel an’ pan, an’ went for thet identical sp 4 To-day thet pocket, havin’ been traced into a ric vein, is payin’ as big or bigger nor any claim on pe creek,’’* now perceed to illustrate I hed a dreem et war hayr in big quantities, so I h’isted my carcass this direction. ‘Ter-nite I'll hev ernuther nighthoss, an’ thet’ll tell me precisely where ther strike ar’.”’ Redburn drummed a tattoo on the arm of the lounge dood his fingers; he was reflecting on what he had ‘You are willing to make terms, I sup . he said, after a while, glancing at Anita to see if he was right. ‘‘ You are aware, I believe, that we still hold possession above any one else.” “True enuff. Ye war first ter diskiver this place; ye orter hev yer say about it.”’ __** Well, then, perhaps we can come to a bargain. | You can state your price for locating and opening | up this mine, and we will consider.” /‘*Wal,let me see. Ef the mine proves to be ekal ter the one thet I located on pene. creek, I’ll rake ina third fer my share uv the divys. Ke ‘tain’t good’s I expect, I'll take a quarter. . Redburn turned to Anita “From what little experience I have had, I think it.is.a fair offer... What is your view of the matter, - and do you believe your brother will be satisfied?” Oh! yes, sir. It will surprise and please him, to return and find his Paradise has been turned into a gold-mine, ht; then, we will go ahead and get things in. a We will have to Vo tools, though, before we.can accomplish much 0 #y ‘* My brother has a miner’s outfit here,” said Anita. ite nee vapll save you a trip: to. Deadwood, for the present,’ _And so it wasall satisfactorily arranged. D the remainder of the day the ony General” and Rat nye wandered about through \the. flower-meadows of the pocket, here and there a little soil; now chipping rock among the oothills, then * feeli in the bed of the: But, not a sign of, like gold. was. to be, fo and when night them to shelter, Redburn was pretty thoroughly convinced that Nix was an enormous 4 ” and.that he could put all the gold they would find in his eye. The “ General,” however, was confi- dent. of and. told many, doubtful yarns of former discoveries and exploits. , Anita prepared an. ev anes tpt tisfled their r which Hasryjook down the. guitar, ms. * A fact | But pended from the wall, tuned it uP: and sung in a clear mellow voice a number of ballads, to which the “General,’’ much to the surprise of both Redburn and Anita, lent a rich deep bass—a voice of superior culture. The closing piece was a weird melody—the lament of a heart that was oa love-blasted—and was rendered in a style worthy of a professional vocalist. The last mournful strains filled the cabin just as the last lingering rays of sunlight disappeared from the mountain top, and shadows came creeping down the rugged walls of rock to concentrate in the Flower Pocket, as Anita had named her valley home. Red- | burn rose from his seat at the window, and reached the instrument to its accustomed shelf, darting a glance toward sad Anita, a moment later, To his surprise he perceived that her head was bowed upon her arm that lay along the window-ledge—that she was weeping, softly, to herself. Acting the gentlemanly part, the yo miner motioned for Nix to follow him, and they both retir- ed to the outside of the cabin to lounge on the grass and smoke, and thus Anita was left alone with her grief and such troubles as were the causes thereof. Certain it was that she had a secret, but what it was Redburn could not guess, About ten o’clock he and Nix re-entered the cabin and went to bed in a room allotted to them, off from the little parlor. Both went to sleep at once, and it was well along toward morning when Redburn was aroused by being rudely shaken by “‘ General’’ Nix, | who was up and dressed, and held a torch in his me w’en I war an. infant prodigy, an’ I’ve nevyer yit | hand. ‘Come! come!” he said in a husky whisper, and a | glance convinced Harry that he was still asleep, although his eyes were wide open and staring. Without a word the young man leaped from bed, donned his garments, and the old man then led the way out of the cabin. In passing through the kitchen, Redburn saw that Anita was up and waiting. ‘ “Come!” he said, seizing a hatchet and stake, ‘“‘we are about to discover the gold-mine, and our for- tunes;”’ with a merry laugh. Then both followed in the wake of the sleep walker, and were led to near the center of the valley, which was but a few steps in the rear of the cabin, Here was a bed of sand washed there from an over- flow of the stream, and at this the ‘“‘General” pointed, as he came to a halt. ‘There! there is the gold—amillions of it deep down ee hs thirty feet—in sand—easy to get! dig! pie! ity Redburn marked the spot by driving the stake in the ground. It now only remained to dig in the soil to verify the truth of the old man’s fancy. CHAPTER VII. DEADWOOD DICK ON THE ROAD, RUMBLING ary through the black canyon road to Deadwood, at an hour lo ast midnight, came the —— from Cheyenne, loa down wi ngers, and full five hours late, on account of a broken shaft, which had to be ma on the road. There were six plunging, snarling horses attached, whom the veteran Jehu on the box, managed with the skill of a circusman, and all the time the crack! snap! of his long-lashed gad made the night resound as like so many pistol reports. The road was through a wild tortuous canyon, fringed with tall ral Raa which occasionally admitted a bar of ghostly moonlight across the rough road over which the stage tore with wild recklessness, ie poh het or was crammed full to its utmost capacity, and therefrom emanated the strong fumes of whisky and tobacco smoke, and stronet lan- guage, over the delay and the terrible jolting of the fo aciiition ‘oth ed up insid n on to those penned up ¢, there were two passengers positioned on top, in the rear of the driver, where they clung to the trunk railings to keep from being jostled off. One was an elderly man, tall in stature and notice- ably portly, with a florid countenance, cold eyes, and hair and beard of brown, freel with silvery threads. He was er gene’ § costume being of the finest cloth and of the very latest cut; boots patent leathers, and hat glossy as a mirror; diamonds gleamed and sparkled on im- maculate shirt-bosom, on his fingers and from the seal of a heavy gold chain across vest front. The other personage was a coun of the first in every particular, save that while one was more than asemi-centenarian in years, the other was bare- ly twenty. The same faultless el ce in dress, the same elaborate display of jewe haughty, aristocratic bearing produced in one was mirrored in the other. They were father and son. ‘*Confound such a road!’’ growled the yo r man, as the stage bounced him about like a rubber mixed ball. ‘For my part I wish I had remained at home, yeas of gonaing out into this outlandish region. “ snes | awful.” -y-y-e-s!”’ chattered the elder between the jolts and jerks—‘' itis not what it should be, that’s true. ive | tination, and— “Get shot like poor Vansevere did!’ sneered the other, ‘I tell you, governor, this is a desperate game you are pla i” The old man matin} ‘‘Desperate or not, we must carry it through to the end, Vansevere was not the right kind of a man to set after the young scamp.”’ . ‘\How do you mean?” #8 ee too rash—entirely too rash. Deadwood attired, his | and the same | Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. | the cracking of Jehu’s whip; the offer of. a reward for his apprehension only put the young tiger on his guard, and he will be more wary and watchful in the future.” This in a positive tone, “Yes; he will be harder to trap than a fox who has pe peg between jaws of steel. He will be revenge- u jy? “Bah! I fear him not, oldas I am. He is but a ae you remember, and will be easily man- ; - : hope so; Idon’t want my brains blown out, at east.”’ The stage rumbled on; the Jehu cursed and lashed his horses; the. canyon grew deeper, narrower and darker, the grade slightly descending. The moon seemed resting on the summit of a peak, hundreds of feet above, staring down in surprise at the noisy . Alexander ore (the elder passenger) succeed- ed in steadying himself lon enough to ignite the end of a cigar in the bowl of Jehu’s grimy pipe; then he watched the trees that flitted by. Clacanes, his son, had smoked incessantly since leaving Camp Crook, and now threw away half-used cheroot, and lis- tened to the sighing of the spectral pines. “The girl—what about her?”’ he asked, after some moments had elapsed. ‘*She will be as much in the way as the boy will.” “She? , Well, we'll attend to her after we git him out of the way. He is the worst obstacle in our path at present. ybe when you see the girl you will “*Pish! I want no petticoats c ng to me—much less an ignorant backwoods cl Ps ia She is probably a fit mate for an Indian chief.” ‘*You are too rough on the tender sex, bow "and the elder Filmore gave vent to a disconnec laugh. “You must remember that your mother was a wo- “Was she?’ Clarence bit the end of his waxed mustache, and mused over his sire’s startling an- ae ae “ You ee lect sat I near —_ ie “Dye carry po ‘jays, p’ eman Jehu, turning so PhS upon the two passengers as to frighten them out of their wits. ~ Popping jays ?” echoed Filmore, senior. “Yas —shutin’-irons — rewolvers— patent perfor- atin’ masheens.” “Yes, we are armed, if that is what you mean.” On dashed the stage through the echoing canyon— on plunged the snorting horses, excited to greater et aug the frequent Soe of the crac lash. e pines grew thicker, and the moonligh less often darted its rays down athwart the road. “Hey !’’ yelled a rough voice from within the stage, ‘wat d’ye drive so fast fer? Ye’ve jonced the senses clean out uv a score o’ us.”’ “Go to blazes!”> shouts back Jehu, giving an ex- tra crack to his whip. ‘‘Who’n the name o’ John paners ar’ drivin’ this omnybust, pilgrim?—you or “You'll floor a hoss ef ye don’ mind s) 1 ‘“Who’n thunder wants ye to pay fer et, ef I do?” rings back, tauntingly. ‘‘ Reckon w’en Bill McGucken can't drive ther thru-ter-Deadwood stage as gude as ther average, he'll suspend bizness, or hire you ter steer in his place.” On, on rumbles the stage, down through a lower grade of the canyon, where no moonlight penetrates, st all i of Stygian get Fs i e two passengers on t) e stage shiver with dread, and poe old Bill MeGucken peers around him, a trifle suspiciously. : It is a wild spot, with the mountains rising on each side of the road to a stupendous hight, the towering pines moaning their sad, eternal requiem; the roar of the great wheels over the hardpan bottom; the snorting of the fractious lead-horses; the curses and — of iron-shod hoofs—it is a place and moment. conducive to fear, | take a fancy to her.”’ mute wonder, admiration. “* Halt!” High above all other sounds: now this cry, borne toward the advancing stage from the impene- | trable space of gloom ahead brought down in clear | commanding tone wherein patience; ere long we will reach our des- | @ daring whelp, and Vansevere’s open | weird suit ere is neither fear nor hesitation. That one word has marvelous effect. It brings a gripe of iron into the hands of Jehu, and he jerks his snorting steeds back upon their haunches; it is in- strumental in stopping the stage. (Who ever knew a Black Hills driver to offer to press on when chal- lenged to halt in a wild dismal p: ?) It sends a'thrill of lonely horror through the veins of those to whose ears the cry is borne; it causes hands to fly to the butts of weapons, and hearts to beat faster. a, ‘** Halt!” ain the cry rings forth, reverberating echoes up the rugged moun- uiet down; Jehu sits carv' statue on his ; the silence_ fo ety ~t fal to those within the those who are trembling ina fever of excitement, and pening from the open win- dows with revolvers cocked for instant-use. The moon suddenly thrusts her golden head over the © of a hoary peak a thousand feet, above, hts up the gorge with a ghastly ess that enables the watchers to behold a black horse- man blocking the path a few rods ahead. ' Silence! Listen!” Two words this time, in the same clear, co voice. A eugee of amoment; then the stillness is broken by the ominous click] click! of a score of rifles; this alone announces that the stage is ‘‘ covered.” en the lone horseman rides leisurely down toward the stage, and Jehu ‘4 i Deadwood Dick; Prince of the Road!) 7* ¥8 Mounted pent ba midnight steed, and clad in the of black, he an imposing spectacle,
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Deadwood Dic 7 as he comes fearlessly up. Well may he be bold and fearless, for no one dares to raise a hand against him, when the glistening barrels of twelve rifles pro- tru from each thicket that fringes the road threaten those within and without the e. Close up to the side of the coach rides the daring oung outlaw, his piercing orbs peering out from e eye-holes in his black mask, one hand clasping the bridle-reins the other a nickel-plated seven- shooter drawn back at full cock. ““You do well to stop, Bill McGucken!” the road- agent, observes, reining in his steed. ‘‘I expected you hours ago, on time.” oa “°Twarn’t my fault, yer honor!” replies Jehu, meek as a lamb under the gaze of the other’s pop- oom, “Ye see, we —— pole this side o’ Custer ty, com an’ that set us behind several p’ints o’ ther ; “What have you aboard to-night worth examin- nF Nothin’, yer honor. Only a stageful uv passen- Oy bclitrer age gelt 6 ou are getting poor. the box, there!” The driver trembled, and hesitated. “Get down!” again commanded the road-a;cnt, leveling his revolver, ‘‘ before I drop you.” In terror McGucken made haste to scramble to the ie where he stood with his teeth chattering and ees knocking ther in a manner pitiable to see, ‘Ha, ha, ha!”’ t wild laugh of Deadwood Dick’s made the welkin ring out a wierd chorus. “ Bill Mc- Gucken, you should join the regular army, you are so . Ha, ha, hal’ And the laugh was taken by the road- swelled into a h w knights, concealed in the thicket, = 4" wild, boisterous shout. Poor McGucken trembled in his boots in abject — while those inside the coach were pretty well Zz —— ” said — — ce of the Road, coolly, — e o you @ passengers who grace this ricke “e ebear and take up a collection. You needn't cum to me wi’ less’n five hundred ef ye don’t want me to salt a Bowing humble obeisance, McGucken took off his and made for the stage door. ; “Gentlemen!” he plead, “‘there is need o’ yer dutchin’ out ad dudads right liberal ef ye’ve enn purtic’lar anticypation an’ desire ter git ter Dead. wood ter-night. Dick, the Road-Agent, are law an’ heerabouts, I spec’late!”’ “Durned a cent ‘ll I fork!’’ growled one old fellow, loud enough to be heard. ‘‘I ain’t afeerd o’ all the robber Dicks from here ter Jerusalum.” Get down from off But when he saw the muzzle of the yo road- agent’s revolver gazing in through the window, he suddenly his mind, and laid a plethoric pocketbook into McGucken's already well-filled hat. The time occupied in making the collection was short, and in a few moments the Jehu handed up = permet “plug” to the Prince of the Road for 8 ion. lly Deadwood Dick went over the treasure, as if it were all rightfully his own; then he chucked hat and all into one his saddle-bags, after which he turned his attention toward the stage. As he did so he saw for the first time the two passengers on pes os a gazed at them a gleam of fire shot his eyes and his hands nervously griped at his be 6 a : “ Alexander Filmore, you here!” he ejaculated, his voice mayne te a “Yes,” replied elder . pes —* here to shoot ‘ou dastardly dog,” an ckly raising a pistol, he took rapid and deadly aim’and fired, CHAPTER VIII. NOT YET! Wirn a groan Deadwood Dick fell to the ground, blood spurting from a wound in his breast. The bullet of the elder Filmore had indeed struck home, Loud then were the cries of rage and vengeance, as a score of masked men lee out from the r!” cried one. “ He’s thickets, and surrounded the accursed the saints in ther cal- **Shoot the — a leader, 3 by i endur he shall 6 penalty!’ “No! no!” rolled ante. “we'll do no such a thing. - He shal swing in mid-air!” “ Hey!” cried a third, rising from the side of the So road-agent, ‘‘don’ ye be so fast, boys. capt’in still lives. He is not seriously wounded, even!” A loud huzza went up from the score of throats, that caused a thousand echoing reverberations along the mountain side. “Better let ther capt'in say what we shall do wi’ one who was a parently a | spirit; “it’s Ais funeral, ain’t it?” “Yas, yas, it’s his funeral |” ; do ther undertakin’.” Robber Dick was accordingly supported to a sit- ting posture, and the blood flowed freely from his wound was stanched. In the operation his mask became loosened and slipped to the ground, but so quickly did he snatch tt up and replace it, that no one caught even a glimpse of his face. In the meantime Clarence Filmore Bad Geireed Seat sree tert Rotts ale an o! ts) ; he tho e re- a ivoaee would reach Dealwood (which was only a short mile distant, around the id) arouse the military, who would come to Dick’s wound he stood once more upon dressed, his f and glared t the two men on the box. e reveal in the ghostly moor and their features easily | is trouble in the a terrible depth of meaning in voice, that the cowering wretch could but understand, “ Alexander Filmore, you have at last come out and shown your true colors. What a treacherous, double-dyed villain you are! Better so; better that you should take the matter into your own hands and face the music, than to emplo , as you have done heretofore. ean fight a dozen enemies face to face better than one or two lurking in the bushes.” The elder Filmore uttered a savage curse. “You triumph now/” he growled, biting his nether lip in vexation; ‘‘ but it will not always be thus.” ‘Eh? think not? I think I shall have to adopt you for awhile. Boys, haul down the two, and bind them securely.” Accordingly, a rush was made upon the stage, and the two outside ngers. own they were hauled, head over heels, and quickly secured by strong cords about the wrists and ankles. This done, Deadwood Dick turned to Bill Mc- Gucken, who had ventured to clamber to the seat of the coach. “Drive on, you cowardly lout—drive on. We've done with you for the present. But, remember, not a word of this to the population of Deadwood, if ou intend to ever make another trip over this route. ow, go!” ein needed not the second invitation. He never was tardy in getting out of the way of danger; so he picked up the reins, gave an extra hard crack of the long whip, and away rolled the jolting stage through the black canyon, erg eau J a& moment later around the bend, beyond which lay Deadwood —magic city of the wilderness. Then, out from the thicket the road-agents led their horses; the two prisoners were secured in the saddles in front of two brawny outlaws, and without delay the cavalcade moved down the gorge, weirdly illuminated by the mellow rays of the soaring moon. Clarence Filmore had hoped that the report of his pistol-shots would reach Deadwood. f so, his wishes were fulfilled. The reports reached the bar- racks above Deadwood just as a horseman galloped up the hill—Major R——,, just in from a carouse down at the ‘‘ Met.” “Halloo!” he shouted, loudly, ‘‘To horse! there gorge. The Sioux, under Sitting Bull, are upon us!’ As the major’s word was law at the barracks, in very short order the garrison was aroused, and head- on by the major in person, a cavalcade of sleepy sol- diers swept down the gorge toward the place whence had come the ee Wildly around the abrupt bend they dashed with ells of anticipated victory; then there was a fright- ful collision between the incoming stage and the outgoi cavalry; the shrieks and screams of horses, the curses and yells of wounded men; and a general pandemonium ensued. The coach, passengers, horses and all was upset, and went rolling down a steep embankment. Major R—— was precipitated Te over the embankment, and in his downward flight probabl saw more than one soaring comet. He struck head- first in a muddy run, and a sorrier-looking officer of the U. 8. A. was never before seen in the Black Hills as he emerged from his bath, than the major. His ridiculous appearance went so far as to stay the general torreut of blasphemy and turn it into a chan- nel of boisterous ye 7 3 No delay was made in putting things ship-sha again, and ere morning dawned Deadwood beheld the returned soldiers and wrecked stage with its sul- len ngers within its precincts. Dick and his men rode rapidly down the canyon, the two prisoners bringing up the rear under the es- cort of two masked gua: These guards were brothers and Spanish-Mexicans at that. The elder Filmore, a keen student of character, was not long in making out these Spaniards’ true character, nor did oa greed Trey toward his and his son’s diamonds escape . “We want to get free!” he at last whispered, when none of those ahead were glancing back. ‘‘ You will each receive a cool five hundred apiece if you will set us at liberty.” The two road-agents exchan glances. rm “It’s a ba > re return ag Stop your orses, and let the others go on!” The main party were at this juncture riding swift- down a steep grade. vk four horen were Le reined in, and when the others were out of eaving, their noses were turned back up the canyon in the direction of Dead- wood. : “This will be an unhealthy job for us!’ said one of the brothers, “should we ever meet Dick again,” “ear him not!” replied Alexander Filmore, with anoath, ‘If he ever crosses your path shoot him down like a dog, and I’ll give you a thousand dollars es te ia e sooner he dies the better Ill be He spoke in a tone of strongest hate—deepest ran- cor. CHAPTER IX. aT THE “MET.” A FEw nights subsequent to the events related in our last chapter, it becomes our duty to again visit the notorious “Metropolitan ” saloon of Deadwood, to see what is going on there. u As usual ev around the place and in it is literally “ red hot.” e bars are constantly crowd- gaming-tables are never empty, and the floor is so full of surging humanity that the dance, ** Alexander Filmore!” the young road-agent said, formerty a chief attraction, has necessarily been sus- pended. The influx of ‘‘ pilgrims” into the Black Hills for the last few days has been something more than wonderful, every stage coming in overcharged with feverish engers, and from two to a dozen trains arriving xf Of course Deadwood receives a larger share of all this immigration—not is more natural, for the young metropolis of the his is ‘he miner’s rendez- vous, being in the center of the best P friaseys Te angge on Every person in Deadwood can tell you where the “Met” is, as it is general head-quarters. . We mount the mud-splashed S and disappear } behind the screen that stands in mt of the door. Then the merry clink of glasses, snatches of ribald song, and loud curses from the polluted lips of some wretch who has lost heavily at the gaming-table, reach our hearing, while our @ wanders Over as Haag a crowd as it has ever been our fortune to be- te) Men from the States—lawyers, doctors, specula- tors, adventurers, ae and dead-beats; men from the western side of the Missouri; grisly miners from Colorado; hunters and bey from _ Idaho and wy oeing: card sharps from Denver and Fr’isco; pickpockets from St. Joe and bummers from Omaha —all are here, each one a pert of a strange and on the whole a very undesirable community. Although the dance has been suspended, that does not necessitate the discharge of the brazen-faced girls, and oat may yet be seen here with the rest, mingling freely among the crowd. Seated at a table in a somewhat retired corner, were two persons engaged at One was a beardless youth attired in buck-skin, and armed with knife and pistols; the other a big, burly tough from the upper chain—grisly, bloated and repulsive. He, too, was nothing short of a walking arsenal, and it was plain to see that he was a desperate char- acter. The game was poker. The youth had won three straight games and now laid down the cards that ended the fourth in his favor. “You're flaxed a pardner!’’ he said, with a light laugh, as he raked in the stakes. “This takes your all, eh?” “Every darned bit!” said the “ Cattymount *—for it was he—with an oath. ‘“‘You’ve peeled me to ther hide, an’ no mistake. Salivated me’ way out o’ time, sure’s thar ar’ modesty in a bar-girl’s tongue!” The youth laughed. ‘ You are not in luck to-night. Maybe your luck will return, if you keep on. Haven’t you another V?”’ **Nary another!” 6: here's your pard, that got salted the other mie ho Chet Diamond? Wal, hee’s around heer, sum’ars, but I can’t borry none off o’ him. No; I’ve gotter quit straight off.” “Tl lend you ten to on,”’ said the youth, and he laid an X in the n’s hands, ‘There, now, go ahead with your funeral. It’s your deal.” The cards were dealt, and the game played, result- ing in the favor of the ‘‘ Cattymount.” Another and another was Pe hee and the tough won every time. Still the youth kept on, he Ss psd smile resting on his seus features, a twinkle in his coal-black eye. e youth, dear reader, you have met before. He 4 not he, ge Bie eee amity ge bs oes the game, the burly “ toug Poker | tS) e, his pile of tens ine: in hight. “Talk about Joner an’ the ark, an’ Noar an’ ther whale!’’ he cries, slapping another X onto the pile with t enthusiasm; “‘Thed a grate, grate muth- er-in-law w’at = keerds wi’ Noar inside o’ thet eyedentical whale’s stummick—played poker wi’ w’alebones fer pokers. They were ard landed at Plymouth rock, or sum uther big rock, an’ fit to- gether, side by side, in the rebellyuns.”’ “Indeed !—with an amused laugh—“ then you must have descended from a long line of respected ancestors. “ Auntsisters? Wa’al, I jest about reckonIdo. I hev got ther blood o’ and Abel in my veins, boyee, an’ ef I ken’t raise the biggest kind 0’ Cane tean't peg I ain’t able—oh! no. Pace anuther- . “Treckon. How much have ye got piled up thar in that heap!” ‘“*Squar’ ninety tens, my huckleberry, an’ all won fa’r, you bet.” “Then it’s the first time you ever won anythin fair, — Diamond!” exclaimed a voice close a hand, and the two players looked up to see Ned Har- ae mee he by, with his hands clasped across Calamity Jane nodded, indifferently. She had seen the young miner on several occasions; once she had been rendered an invaluable service when he rescued her from a brawl in which a dozen toughs had attacked her. . “Cay ount” Cass, brother of Chet Diamon the Deadwood card- 4 him also, ani with an oath, sprung to his feet. “By all the Celestyals!” he ejaculated, jerking forth a six-shooter—“ by all the roarin’, screechin shriekin’, yowlin’, squawkin,’ ring-tailed, flat-futted cattymounts thet ever did ther forest aisles o’ old cittyzens o’ Deadwood inter rebellyun, ye leetle deputy uv ther devil? Hurra! i Saye: let’s string him up ter ther nearest sapling “Ha! ha!’ laughed Harris, coolly, “hi ard squeal for his pard’s assistance. Dassen't stand on his own leather fer fear of gettin’ salted fer all “oes liar!” roared the ‘ Cattymount; * “ ou a < spreading himself about promiscuously, but the two
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8 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. words had scarcely left his lips when a blow from the fist of Ned Harris reached him under the left eye, and he went sprawling on the ground in a heap. “Here! here!” roared a stranger, rushing in upon the scene, and hurling the crowd aside with a dex- terity something wonderful. ‘‘ What is the meaning of all this? Who knocked Cass Diamond down?” “JT had that honor!” coolly remarked Ned ob stepping poy up and confronting the Deadw card-king, for it was the notorious Chet Diamond who had asked the question. “I smacked him in the gob, Chet Diamond, for calling me a liar, and am ready to accommodate a few more, if there are any who wish to prefer the same charge!”’ “Bully, Ned! and here’s what will back you!” cried Calamity Jane, eoping to the miner’s side, a pg in either white, shapely hand; ‘so sail n, p is!” Diamond cowered back, and swore furiously. The wound in his breast was yet sore and rankling, and he knew he owed it to the cool and calculating young | miner whose name was an omen of tefror among the “toughs ’’ of Deadwood. “Come on, you black-hearted ace thief!” shouted Calamity Jane, thrusting the muzzle of one of her plated revolvers forcibly under the gambler’s promi- nent nose—“ come on! slide in if you are after squar’ up-an’-down fun. We'll greet you, bést we know how, an’ not charge you anything, either. See! I’ve >t a couple full hands o’ sixes—every one’s a trump! in’t ye got no aces hid up yer sleeves?” The card sharp still cursed furiously. away. He dare not reach for a weapon ‘lest the dare- devil girl or young Harris (who now held a cocked fy in each hand), “‘should salt him on a full “Ha! ha! ha!” and the laugh of Calamity ru wildly through the. great saloon—" Hal ha! hat here’s a go! Who wants to buy a Clipped-win sharp?” “dold out right cheap!’ added Ned, facetiously. “ Clear the track and we'll take him out and boost him to a limb.” At this juncture some half a dozen of the gambler’s gang came rushing up, headed by Catamount Cass, who had recovered from the effects of the blow from Harris’ fist. “At them! at *em!” roared the “screechin’ catty- mount frum up nor’.” ‘Rip, dig an’ gouge ‘em. Ho! ho! we’ll see now who'll swing, sg We'll Yarn who'll display his oo, in mid-air, we will. At ’em, b’yees, at ’em. e'll hang ‘em like they do hoss-thieves down at Cheyenne)” Then followed a pitch battle in the bar-room of the “‘ Metropolitan’ saloon, such as probably never occurred there before, and never has since. Revolvers flashed. on every hand, knives clashed in deadly conflict; yells, wild, savage, and awful made a perfect demonium, to which was added a second edition in the shape of oaths, curses, and roans, Crack! whiz! bang! the bullets flew about ¢ hailstones, and men fell to the reeking floor each terrible moment. The two friends were not alone in the affray. No sooner had Catamount Cass and his of “*toughs’’ showed fight, than a company of miners ree Harris’ side, and showed ir willingness to fight it out on the square line, Therefore, once the first shot was fired, it needed not a word to pitch the battle. Fiercely waged the contest—now hand to hand— and loud rose the savage yells on the still night air. One by one men fell on either side, their life-blood erimso the floor, their dying groans unheeded in gail ithaca, d figh h rmed, an among the first, we see Ned Harris and his ratksble eee eget Cal- amity Jane; both are black, and scarcely recogniz- able in the cloud of smoke that fills the bar-room. Harris is wounded in a dozen places and weak from loss of blood; yet he stands up bravely and fights eee e Calamity Jane if she is wounded shows it not, but faces the music with as little apparent fear as any of those around her. On wages the battle, even as furiously as in its be- ginning; the last shot has been fired; it is now knife to e, and face to face. Full as many of one side as the other have fallen, and lay strewn about under foot, unthought of, un- cared for in the excitement of the desperate moment; Gallons of blood have made the floor slippery and ree , 80 that it is difficult to retain one’s footing. At the head of the ruffians the Diamond brothers* still hold sway, fighting like madmen in their endea- vors to win a victory. They cannot do less, for to back off in this critical moment means sure death to the weakening party. But hark! what are these sounds? The thunder of hoofs is heard outside; the rattle of musketry and sabers, and the next instant a com- of soldiery, headed by Major R—, ride straight up into the saloon, firing right and left. “Come!” cried Calamity Jane, grasping Harris by the arm, and pulling him tow a side door, “ it’s time for us to slope now. It’s every man for him- And only under her nce was Ned able to es- cape, and save being ed and captured with the About noon of the su day, two persons horseback were coming 4 vs alo: e north h lead- ing into Deadwood, at an cany canter. y were the fearless t Boy, or as he is better known, Fearless his lovely protege, Miss Terry. ‘They had been for a morning ride over to a neighbor- ing claim, and were just returning. OC duasilsins and backed | | voted a part of his time in a search for Since their arrival in Deadwood. the we lad de- ce’s father, but all tonoavail. None of the citizens of Deadwood or its surroundings had ever heard of such a person as Captain Walter Terry. The young couple had become fast friends from their association, and Alice was Lt in looks eve day fad stayed in the mountains, ‘I feel hu ,” observed Frank, as _ they rode | | two shots!” along. ‘‘ This life in the hills gives me a keen appe- tite. How is it with you, lady?” “The same as with you, I guess, Butlook! Yon- | der comes a horseman toward us!” | not to end without trouble. | Sr flashed, and she reined her horse closer to that rs) It was even so, A horseman was galloping up me ed Ha | gulch—no other than our young friend, } As the two parties approach, the faces of each of the youths grow deadly pale; there comes into their eyes an ominous glitter; their hands each clasp the butt of a revolver, and the ually draw rein, That they are enemies of old—that the fire of ran- cor burns in their hearts, and that this meeting is un- a age is plain to see, ow, that they have met, probably for the first time in months or years, it remains not to be doubt- ed but a settlement must come between them—that their hate must result in satisfaction, whether in blood or not. _—_— GHAPTER X. THE DUEL AND ITS RESULT. BELLIGERENT were the glances exchanged between the two, as they sat there facing each other, h with a hand closed over the butt of a pistol; each as ye res as oe statue, ce Terry grown e, friend and protector and Psp er were enemies, —that this meeting though eel, accidental was Her lips grew set, her the Scarlet Boy. Ned Harris let a faint smile, of gontenys and pity combined, come into relief on his lips, as he saw tt action. Better ten male enemies than one female, —— trailed and tracked me with the determination of a bloodhound, and I have evaded you, not thatJ was at all afraid of you, but because I did not wish to make you a murderer. have come across your path at last; here let us settle, as you have said. {I fold my arms across my breast. Take out our pistol, aim steadily, and fire twice at my breast. have heard enough concerning your il as a marksman to feel confident that you can kill me in Ned Harris flushed, angrily. He was surprised at the cool indifference and recklessness of the youth; he was angered that McKenzie should think him mean enough to take such a preposterous advantage: ““You are a fool!’ he sneered, biting his lip with vexation. ‘Do you calculate I am a murderer?” “T have no B ened that you are or that you are not!” replied Fearless Frank, non serlnes his temper by a master effort. ‘“‘ You remember I have not kept | a watch upon your actions,” | is = “Be that as it may, I would be an accursed dog to take advantage of your insulting proposal. You must fight me the same as I shall fight you!”’ “No, Ned Harris; I do nothing of the kind. it ho have wrongéd you and yours; 7 must | take the offensive; I will play a silent hand: | | too. She saw that | “You refuse to fight me?” “I de refuse to fight you, but do not refuse to give ou satisfaction for what wrong you have suffered. Take my life, if ~ choose; itis yours, Take it, or forever after this consider our debt of hatred can- celed, and let ee be—”’ “Friends? Never, Justin McKenzie, never! You forget the stain dyed by your hand that will never wash out!” “No! no! God knows I do not forget!” and the outh’s voice was hoarse with anguish. ‘Could it undone, I would gladly undo the deed. But, tell me, Harris, about her. Does she still live?” Live? We-l-l, yes, if you can call staying living. Life is but a eck: Detter slie had died-ere ahaavat! met you!” | ‘You speak truly; better she had died ere she met : me,”’ he thought; but, then, women must not stand inthe | way, now. No! nothing must block the path inter- = : | the t vening between enmity and vengeance. Harris was, if anything, the coolest of the three; but, after all, why should he not be? He had spent several years in society that seemed callous to fear, —that knew not what it was to be a Christian; where the utmost coolness was nece: to the preserva- tion of life; where bravery was all, and education a dead letter. Fearless ank, too, had seen phases of rough western life, Provenly but his tem- perament was more nervous and excitable, his pas- sions tenfold harder to restrain. Still, he managed to exercise a cool exterior now, that equaled that of his opposite—his hated enemy, Mystery, as Frank habitually called the girl, did not offer to conceal her feelings. It was but natural that she should side with him to whom she owed her life, and the glances | of scorn and indignation she shot at the young miner might have driven another man than him into a re- treat. Fearless Frank made no motion toward speech; he was determined that the young miner should open ad uarrel, if a quarrel it was to be. But beneath s tightly, fiercely; while every nerve in the youth’s boey was drawn to its utmost tension. arris was wonderfully calm and at ease; only a y pallor on his handsome face and a menacing in his piercing eyes told that he was in the leas agitated. * Justin McKenzie!” Ste rung out the words on the clear mountain air. Harris had spoken, and the grayish pene deepened on his countenance while the fire of ran- cor burned with stronger gens in his eagle eye. The effect on the scarlet hp was scarcely no- ticeable, more than that the lips grew more and compressed, anc. the right hand clutched the pistol- butt more tightly. But no answer to the other’s summons. ‘Justin McKenzie!’ again said the young miner, calmly, ‘‘do you recognize me?” The Scarlet Boy bows his head slowly, his Fa bog watchful lest the other shall catch the drop on him. * Justin McKenzie, you do recognize me, even after the elapse of two long w years, during which I have sought for you f. thfully but failed to find you until this hour, We have at last met, and the e for settlement between you and me, Justin Mc- Kenzie, Syria Here des oh ip Be Sy petal 0 we settle the grudge Iho you— Fo with uae who shall live and who shall die ¥ Alice Terry uttered a terrified ot “Oh! no! no! you must not fig t—you must not. It is bad—oh! so awful wicked!” “Excuse me, , but you will have no voice in this matter; and the miner’s tone grew a trifle more severe. ‘Knew you the bitter wrong done me by this young devil with the smooth face and oily jeg = td you knew what a righteous cause I have to defend, you would say ‘let the battle proceed.’ I am not one to thirst for the blood of my fellow-men. but I am one that is ever ready to raise my hand and strike in the defense of women!” : Alice Terry secretly admired the stalwart young miner for this gallant — Fearless Frank, his face pele than before, an ex- on of remorse comb: with anguish about countenance, and moisture standing in either eye, assumed his quasi-erect attitude as answ : “Edward Harris, if you will listen, I will say all I have to say in a very few words. You hate me be- cause of a wrong I did you and yours, and you want my life for the forfeit. I shall not hinder you lon- ger in your purpose, For two long years you have rm-set lips were clenched two rows of teeth, | Unconsciously the two had ridden closer to each other; had they forgotten themselves in recalling ‘* She lives—-may live on her lonely life for years to come,” Harris resumed, thoughtfully, ‘‘ but her life will be merely endurance.”’ “* Will you tell me where—where I can 1 go in sec and take but one look at her? If you will do this, will mare to meet you and give you your chance for satis—"’ ‘‘No!” thundered Harris, growing suddenly furi- ous, ‘‘no/ a thousand times! I’d sooner see her in the burning depths of the bottomless pit than have you get within a hundred miles of her with your contaminating presence. She is safely hidden away, and that forever, from the companionship of ow sex. So let her be till death claims her!’’ **’'You are too hard on her!” ‘And not hard enough on base villain that your are! Who is this young lady you have in you ar fk seco of your victims?” “Hold! Edward Harris; enough of your vile in- sinuations. This lady is one whom I rescued from Sitting Bull, the Sioux, and I am helping her to hunt a father who she says is somewhere in the Black Hills. Your language should at least be respectful!’ The rebuke stung young Harris to the quick, but he reined in his passion in a moment, and doffed his hat. ‘Pardon me, miss, pardon me, It was ungentle manly for me to as I did, but I was surprised at seeing one of your sex in company with ac: complished scamp, Justin McKenzie.” “My presence with him is, as he said, for the pur se of finding my father. He rescued me from the Pedlans and has volunteered his services, for whicb I am very thankful. So far, sir, he has acted in a courteous and gentlemanly manner toward me!” said Alice Terry. ‘* What he may have been hereto- fore concerns me not, as you must know.” ‘* He is always that—smooth-tongued, until he has lured his victim to ruin!” retorted Ned bitterly. ‘* Beware of him, lady, for he isa rattlesnake in the disguise of a bright-wi butterfly.” earless Frank grew livid at this last thrust. F bearance is virtue, sometimes, but not always. his case the Scarlet Boy felt that he could - bear the taunts of the miner no longer. “You are a liar and a dastard!’’ he cried, fie , ‘Come on if you wish satisfaction, and I’ll give it ou!” / “Tam ready, always, sir. I challenged ye first; you have the choice!” retorted Ned, as cool as ever, while his enemy was all trembling with excitement. ‘* Pistols, at fifty yards; to be fired until one or the other is dead!’ was the prompt decision. “Good! Young , you will n have to act as second for both of us. If I drop, leave my body where I fall, and it will be picked up by friends. If he falls, I will ride on to wood, and send you out help to carry him in. Without delay the distance was guessed and each of the young men rode to position... Miss the gulch, mid eae _ we ane sitet the ch, way een e an an viva ol was in readiness she counted: “ ne ” The right hands of the two youths were raised on a level, and the gleaming barrel of a pistol shone bad ze each " a) oO re , There was a sharp click! click! as the hammers of the weapons were pulled back at full cock. Each click meant danger or death. , Harris was very white; so was Fearless Frank, but not so much so as the young woman who was to give the signal.
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Deadwood Dick. 9 — “Three! Fire’ cried Alice, quickly; then, there was a flash, the report of two pistols, and Ned Har- ris fell to the ground without a groan, « | McKenzie ran to his side, and bent over him. ‘Poor fellow!” he murmured, rising, a few mo- ments later—‘‘ poor Ned. He is dead!” iF mae og ean pesos we left whee ng rr cordingly he was on the grass by the roadside. his ate tethered near by, and then, accom anied by Alice, Justin McKenzie set out to Deadw CHAPTER XL THE POCKET GULCH MINES—INVADERS OF THEM. WE see fit to change the scene once more back to the Pocker pulet ee home of the sweet, sad- faced Anita, date is one month later—one long, eventful month since Justin McKenzie shot down Ned Harris under the noonday sun, a short distance above Deadwood, Returning to the Flower Pocket by the route to the rugged transverse gulch, and thence through the gaping fissure, we find before us a scene—not of slumbering beauty, but of active industry and labor, such as was not here when we last looked into the flower-strewn paradise of the Hills, The flowers are for the most part still intact. oet occasionally ioe will come across a spot where the hand of man hath Se erage their gro A Where stood the little vine-wreathed cabin now may be seen @ larger and more commodious log structure, which is but a continuation of the origi- hai, A busy scene greets our gaze all around. Men are hurrying here and there through the valley—men not of the pale-face race, but of the red race; men, clad only to the waist, with remarkable muscular devel- opments, and fleetness of foot, Over the little creek which dashes far adown from ine-dressed mountain peaks, and trails its shin- ing waters through the flowering land, is built an- other structure—of logs, strongly and carefully erect- ed, and thatched by a master hand with bark and rass, From the roof projects a small smoke-stack, rom which emanates a steady cloud of smoke, curl- ing lazily upward toward heaven’s blue vault, and inside is heard the grinding, crushing rumble of pon- derous machinery, and we rightly conjecture that it is a crusher in full operation. Across from the north- ern side of the ch comes a steady string of mules in line, each pulling behind him a rae (or, what is better known to the general er asa stone-boat) heavily laden with huge quartz rocks. These are dumped in front of one of the large doorways of the crusher, and the ‘‘ empties ” return mechanically and disappear within a gaping fissure in the very moun- tain side—a sort of tunnel, which the hand of man, aided by that abers and stronger arm—powder—has burrowed and blasted out. All this is under the immediate management of the swarthy-skinned red-men, whose faces declare them to be a remnant of the once t Ute tribe—now utilized to a better occupation t iv the dark and bloody days of the past. Near the crusher building is a large, stoutly-con- structed windlass, worked by mule power, and every few moments there comes up to the surface from the depths of a shaft, a bucketful of rock and sand, which is dumped into a push-car, and from thence transferred to the line of sluice-boxes in the stream, where more half- sty sage Reb? ye pemmee in sifting golden particles from the rich. . What a treruternation isall this since we left the Flower Pocket. a little over a month ago! od everywhere within those majestic mountain-lock walls Dele Aa ee uneitnen. subeiinal slee awa, e " e-lade pe ge isnel Mr of the inal of wealth lying nest- li in its bosom, and content and happy in its quietude and the adornments of nature's beauties. Now, shouts, ringing halloos, angry curses at the obstinate mules, the rumbling of ponderous machin- ery, the clink of picks and reports of frequent blasts, the deadened sound of escaping steam, the barking of d the be pad of horses—all these sounds are now to be heard. Then, the valley was peacefully At rest; the birds chimed in their exquisite music to the 4olian like music of the breeze through the branches of the mountain pines; the waters pouring adownfrom the stupendous peaks created an everlasting song of love and constancy; bees and hi -bi drank deli- cious draughts from the blushing lips of a million nodding flowers; the sun was more hazy and drowsy- looking; everything had an appearance of ethereal ace and happiness. Pput, like yoo on the stage, a d transfor- mation had taken place; a beautiful had been c into stern reality; quietude and slumber had at the bold approach of bus' industry and life, And all this transformation is due to whom? The noonday sun shone down on all the busy scene with a glance of warmth and affection, and particu- its rays center about two men, who, stand- ing ‘on the southern side of the valley, up in among ed foothills, were watching the living panor- ama the keenest interest. They were Harry Redburn and the queer old hum: backed, bow-legged little locater, “General ’’ Wal- singham Nix. Hedburn was now looking nearly as rough, un- kempt and grizzled as any veteran miner, and for a fact, he actually had not waxed the ends of his fine mustache for over a week. But there was more of a healthy glow enon his face, a robustness about his form, and a light of satisfaction in his eye which told that the rough miner’s life agreed with him ex- c well. The o) TQoeral” was all dirt, life and animation, | and as full of his eccentricities as ever. He was a character seldom met with—ever full of a quaint hu- mor and sociability, but never known to get mad, no matter how great the provocation might be. His chance strike upon the spot where lay the gold of Flower Pocket imbedded—if it could be called a chance, considering his dream—was the prelude to the opening up of one of the richest mining districts south of Deadwood, We left them after Harry had driven a stake to mark the place which the somnambulist had pointed out as indicating the concealed mine, On the succeeding day the two men set to work, and dug long and desperately to uncover the treas- ure, and after three days of incessant toil they were rewarded with success. A rich vein of go d, or, rather, a deposit of the valuable metal was found, it being formed in a deep, natural pocket and mixed alternately with sand and rock. During the remaining four days of that week the two lucky miners took out enough gold to evidence their supposition that they had struck one of the richest fields in all the Black Hills country. Indeed it seemed that there was no end to the depth of sand | in the shaft, and as long as the sand held out the | gold was likely to. When, just in the flush of their early triumph, the old humpback was visited by another somnambulis- tic fit, and this time he discovered gold deep in the northern mountain side, and prophesied that the quartz rock which could be mined therefrom would more than repay the cost and trouble of o pas up the vein and of transporting machinery to he gu ch. We need not into detail of what followed; suf- fice it to say that immediate arrangements were made and executed toward developing this as yet unknown territory. While Redburn set to work with two Ute Indians (transported to the gulch from Deadwood, under oath of secrecy by the ‘‘ General on to blast into the mountain-side, and get at the gold- quartz, the old loeater in person set out for Cheyenne on the secret mission of procuring 2 portable crusher, boiler and engine, and such other implements as would be needed, and getting them safely into the gulch un- known to the roving population of the Hills country. And most wonderful to relate, he succeeded. Two weeks after his departure he returned with the machinery and two score of Ute Indians, whom he had sworn into his service, for, as a Ute rarely breaks his word, they were likely to prove valuable accessories to the plans of our two friends. Redburn had in the meantime blasted in until he came upon the quartz rock. Here he had to tei tiers the arri- val of the machinery. He however busied himself in enl the cabin and building a curb to the shaft, which occupied his time until at last the ‘General ” and his army returned.* Now, we see these two successful men standin, and gazing at the result of their joint labors, eac financially happy; each growing rich as the day rolls away. The miners are in a pipeverous condition, and everything moves off with that ease and order that Ss of shrewd management and constant atten- on to business. The gold taken from the shaft is much firmer than that extracted from the quartz. The quartz yielded about eighteen dollars to the ton, which the “‘ General” declared to be as well as ‘ a al c’u’d expect, considerin’ things, more or legs !”” Therefore, it will be seen by those who have any aes gc whatever of apo cp J that, — pay- ing o ee mses, our friends were not do’ sO badly, after all. ing “Yes, yes!” the “General” was remarking, as he eg at the string of mules that alternately issued rom and re-entered the fissure on the opposite side of the valley; “yes, yes, boyee, ngs ar’ workin’ as I like ter see ‘em at last. e shaft ‘Il more’n pa pe oy if she holds her head "bove water, Pag! opine she will, an’ w’at ar’ squeezed out uv the quartz ar’ cleer ’intment fer us.’ “True; the shaft is more than aying off the hands,’ replied Redburn, genes, Sonal upon a bowlder, and staring vacantly at the dense column of smoke ejected from the smoke-stack in the roof of the crusher building. “T was looking up accounts last eve , and after deducting what you paid for the machinery, and what wages are due the Utes, we have about a thou- — dollars clear of all, to be divided between three of us ‘Exactly. Now, that’s w’at I call fair to mid- dling. Of course thar’ll be more or less expense, heerafter, but et’ll be a consider’ble less o’ more than more 0’ less, Another munth ‘ll tell a larger finan- ee ASE lee Wein te = n, ess somet ns more than we think for now. If we get through another month, however, without being nosed out, why we may consider ourselves all-fired lucky.” ““Jes’ so! Jes’ so! but we'll hev ter take our chances, One natteral advantage, we kin shute ’em 98 (Ht oS Red er fast ted, suddenly, 1 ° urn rrup suddenly, leap to his feet; “they say the devil’s couriers pr ng Bes around when you are talking of them. Look! in- vaders A He pointed toward the east, where the passage led out of the valley into the gorge beyond. Out of this passage two persons on horseback had just issued, and now they came to a halt, evidently caer at the scene which lay spread out before em. No sooner did the “General” clap his eyes on the * This crusher is. said to have been the first intro- duced into the Black Hills. pai. than he uttered a cry of astonishment, mingled with joy. wits thet scarlet chap, Fearless Frank!’? he an- nounced, hopping about like a pig on a hot griddle, “wat I war tellin’ ye about; the same cuss w’at de- sarted Charity Joe’s train, ter look fer sum critter w’at war screechin’ fer help. I went wi’ the lad fe a ways, but my jackass h ned to be more or less indispositioned—consider’bly more o’ less than less o’ more—an’ so I made up my mind not ter continny on his route. Ther last I see’d o’ the lad he disap- peared over sum kind 0’ a precypice, an’ calkylatin® > how he war done fer, Irej’ined Charity Joseph, an” m on.” “ He has a female in his company!” said Redburn, watching the new-comer keenly. “Yas, ‘peers to me he has, an’ et’s more or less. likely that et’s the same critter he went to resky w’er he left Charity Joe’s train!” ‘““What about him? We do not want him here; to let him return to Deadwood after what he has seen. would be certain death to our interests.” ‘*Yas, thar’s more or less truth in them words 0” yours, b’yee—consider’bly more o’ less than less 0” more. e ken’t go back now, nohow we kin fix et. He’s a right peart sort 0’ a kid, an’T think ef we war ter guv him a job, or talk reeson’ble ter him, thet he'd consent to do the squar’ thing by us.” Redburn frowned. “He'll have to remain for a certain time, whether he wants to or not,’’ he muttered, more savage usual, It looked to him as if this was to be the signal of a general invasion. ‘“‘Come! let’s go and see what we can do,” They left the foothills, clambered down into the valley and worked their way toward where Fearless Frank and his companion sat in waiting. As they did so, headed by a figure in black, who wore a mask as did all the rest, a band of horsemen rode out of the fissure into the valley. One glance and we recognize Deadwood Dick, Prince of the Road, and his band of road-agents! CHAPTER XII. MAKING TERMS ALL ARO Op General Nix was the first to invasion, ‘“Gorra’mighty!” he ejaculated, flourishing his staff about excitedly, “‘d’ye mind them same w’at’s tuk et inter the’r heads to invade oursancty sanctor- um, up at Howly saints frum ther cullender! We shall be built up inter an entire city ‘twixt this an’ sunset, ef ther populatin’ sect becum enny more numersome. Thar’s a full fifty o’ them sharks, more or less—consider’bly more o’ less than less 0’ more— an’ ef we hain’t ter hold a full hand in order to clean em out, why, ye can call me across-eyed, hair- ms hyeeny, that’s all.” burn uttered an ejaculation as he saw the swarm of invaders that was perhaps more forcible than polite. He did not like the looks of things at all. If Ned Harris were only here, he thought, he could throw the nsibility all off on his shoulders. But he was not; neither had he been seen or heard of since he had quitted the valley over a month ago. Where he was staying all this time was a pore that no one could solve—no one among our three friends. The ‘General’? had made inquiries in Deadwood, but elicited no information concerning the young miner. He had dropped entirely out of the magic city’s notice, and sd be d or dying in some foreign clime, fot all they knew. Anita worried and grew sadder each day at his non-return; it seemed to her that he was in distress, or worse, Lage on sa dead. He had never stayed away so long ore, she said, always ret from his trips every few days. What, then, could now be the reason of his prolonged absence? Redburn foresaw trouble in the intrusion of the road-agents and Fearless Frank, although he knew not the character or calling of the former, and he ar lived to make one bold stroke in defense of the mines. “Go to the quartz mines as quickly as you can!” he said, addressing Nix, “and call every man to his arms. Then rally them out here, where I will be waiting with the remainder of our forces, and we will see what can be done. If it is to be a fight for UND. discover the new our rights, a desperate ‘ht it shall be.” The “General” hurried off with as much alacrity as was possible, with him, toward the min while Redburn likewise made haste to t the shaft and collect ether his handful of men. He e cabin on the way, and, seeing Anita oo in the doorway, he came, to a momentary chI . ’ “Oh! don’t ity You will egg eno *“Humph! what of that? o would care if I were killed?” “I would, for one, Mr. Redburn,” primes ru cee Greet pate ete e pure w of the onately. Was it s le that she had in her heart akin to love, for him? Already he had conceived a ing fancy for her, which might ripen into love, time. cocenirt Be mat Sees te Dy, beat gee = wo ew as ae theks te he , Miss Anita. But, stop! must away. Go e, and keep shady until you see me again; and so saying he hurried on. ;
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10 In ten_minutes’ time two score of brawny, half- dressed Utes were rallied in the valley, and Redburn was at their head, accompanied by the “ General.” “T will now go forward and hold parley,” said i as he wrapped a kerchief about the muz- zle of his rifle-barrel. “If you see me fall, you can calculate that it’s about time for you to sling in a chunk of your a He had fallen into the habit of talking in an illiter- ate fashion, since his association with the ‘‘ General.” “All right,”’ assented the old locater; “‘ef they try ter salt ye, jes’ giv’ a squawk, an’ we'll cum a-tearin’ down ter yer resky at ther rate o’ forty hours a mile, | more or less—consider’bly more o’ less than less o more.”” Redburn buckled his belt a hole tighter, looked to his two revolvers, and set out on his mission. The road-agents had, in the mean time, circled off to the — of the fissure, and formed into a compact body, where they halted and watched the rallying of the savages in the valley. Fearless Frank and his lovely companion remained where they had first halted, awaiting developments. They had stumbled into Paradise and were both sur- prised and bewildered. Redburn Byprnedies them first. He was at loss how to open the confab, but the Scarlet Boy saved him the trouble. “T presume I see in you one of the representatives of this concern,”’ he said, doffing his hat, and show- ing his pearly teeth in a little smile, as the miner came up. “You do,” replied Redburn, bowing stiffly. “Iam an owner or partner in this mining enterprise, which, until your sudden advent, has been a secret to the out belie eH ilgrim; for, though I tt, eve you, p ; for, thoug am pretty shorengnly. acquainted with the topography of the Black country, [had not the 1} idea that such an enterprise existed in this part of the terri- to ee No, TI dare say not. But how is it that we are in- debted to you for this intrusion?—for such we feel justified in calling it, under the existing circum- stances. “‘T did not intend to intrude, sir, nor doI now. In Loney Brea tens the mountains we accidentally stum- bled into the fissure Ramee that leads to this gulch, ro as ewe was nothing hinder us, we came on rough, “True; I should have posted a strong guard ‘n the pass. You have a female companion, I perceive; not your wife?” “Oh, no! nor my sister, either. This is Miss Terry an estimable young lady, who has come to the Black Hills in search of her father. Your nameis—” “*Redburn—Harry Redburn; and yours, I am told, is Fearless Frank.”’ “Yes, that is the title I sail under. But how do you know asent of me?”’ “TI was told your name by a partner of mine. Now, then, concerning the present matter; what do you pro’ to do?” “To do x, Why, turn back, I suppose; Isee nothing “Do you belong to that other crowd?” if — indeed ;”’ nk’s face flushed, half angrily. 5 Boe Tam not quite so low down as that, yet. you know them? That’s Deadwood aes the Prince of the Road, and his band of out- Ws ” “What—is it possible? The same gang whom the Pioneer is making such a he over, every week.” “The same, That fellow clad in black is Deadwood Dick, the leader.” “Humph! He in black; you in scarlet. Two con- trasting colors.” “That isso. I had not thought of it before. But no ficance is attached thereto.” “Perhaps not. Have you the least idea what b t them here?”’ “The road mts? I reckon I do. The military has been ch them for the last two days. Prob- ably they have come here for protection.’ “Maybe so; or for plunder. Give me your deci- and I will go and see what they want.” “There is no ing for me to decide more than to take the back track.” Redburn shook his head, decidedly. “ You cannot go back!’’ he said, using positiveness in his ent; ‘that is, not for a while. You'd have all wood down on usin a jiffy. I'll give you work in the shaft, at three dollars a day. You can accept that offer, or submit to confinement until I see fit to set you at liberty.” “And my companion, here—?” “T will place under the c eof Miss Anita for the os a , where she will receive hospitable treat- ment,’’ Fearless Frank started as though he had been struck a violent blow; his face grew very white; his eyes dilated; he trembled in every joint. se A yy he ote, Anita!’ “T believe that is what I said!’ Redburn could not understand the youth’s agitation. He knew that the sister of Ned Harris had a secret; was this Fearless Frank in any way connected with it, and if so, how? ae ou know her?” . other name is—” “ Harris—Anita Harris, in full, Do you know her, or aught of her?”’ “T—I—I did, once!”’ was the slow reply. “‘ Where is she; I want to see her?” urn took a moment to consider. Would it be_ best to permit a meeting between the two until he should be able to learn somet: more definite conce the secret? If Ned were here would he sanction such a meeting? No! some- thing toki the young miner that he would not; Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. something warned him that it could result in no good to allow the scarlet youth an interview with sad, sweet-faced Anita. “You cannot see her!” he at last said, decidedly. “There is a reason bad Bh two should never meet i and if you remain in the gulch, as you will be obliged to, for the ghamnintts must give me your we ~ of honor tha’ not go near yonder cabin.” Fearless Frank had expected this; therefore he was not rised. Neither did Redburn know how close he shied his stone at the real truth. “T promise,’’ McKenzie said, after a moment’s de- liberation, ‘‘on my honor that I will not approach the cabin, providing you will furnish me my meals and lodgings elsewhere. If Anita comes to me, what then?’ “*T will see that she does not,’’ Redburn answered positively. Gradually he was assuming full control of things, in the absence of Harris, himself. ‘‘ Miss Terry, ¥ sae may ride down to yonder cabin, and tell Anita Isent you. Pilgrim, you can come along with me ” “No; I will accompany Alice as far as where our forces are stationed,” said Frank, and then they rode down the slope, Redburn turning toward where the road-agents sat pon their horses in a compact body, with wood Dick at their head. As the miner drew nigh and came to a standstill, the Prince of the road rode forward to his side. ‘* Well—?”’ he said, interrogatively, his voice heavy be! pleasant; ‘‘I suppose you desire to know what izness we’ve got in your cornfield, eh stranger?’ “That’s about the dimensions of it, yes,”’ replied Redburn, at once conceiving a liking for the young road-agent, in whom he thought he saw a true gen- tleman, in the disguise of a devil. “I came over to learn the object you have in view, in invading our little valley, if you have no objections in telling.” “ Certai not. As P sos may have guessed al- ready, we are a band of road- yay By ose field of to the Black Hills action we rave = ~~ e aeen 7 country. ave the honor o the er, an ou have doubtless heard of seewaa@ena Dick, he ‘ Road-Agent Prince,’ as the Pioneer persists in terming me. Just at Paes things are rather sultry in the immediate vicinity of Deadwood, so far as we are concerned, and we sought this locality to escape a small army of the Deadwood military, who xs > ben posing. around after us for the past week.” ‘ e = “Well, we happened to see a man and woman come this way, and believing that it must lead to somewhere or other, we followed, and here we are, out of the reach of the blue-coats, but, I take it, in the way of a party of secret miners. Is it not so?” “No, not necessarily so, unless you put yourselves in the way. You wish to remain quartered here for the present?” Lf not contrary to your wishes, we should like to, you “oe es. “T have no objections to offer, providing you will agree to two points.”’ “ And what are they, may I ask?’’ “These. That you will camp at the mouth of the passage, and thus keep out any other intruders that may come; second, that you will keep your men to this side of the valley, and not interfere with any of our laborers.”’ “To which I eagerly agree. You shall experience no inconvenience from our presence here; you fur- nish us a haven of safety from the soldiers; we in return will extend you our aid in repelling a host of fortune-seekers who may any moment come down this way in swarms.” “Very well; that settles it, then. You keep your promise, and all will go well,” The two shook hands; then Redburn turned and strode back to dismiss his forces, while Dick and his men took up their se at the place where the fissure opened into t A, rat Here they made pre- parations to camp. burn, while returning to his men, heard a shout of joy, and ‘re | up, saw, to his surprise, that the old ‘General ” an ce Terry were locked in each other’s arms, in a loving embrace, CHAPTER XII. AT THE CABIN, What did it mean? Had the old hump-backed, bow-legged mine-locater gov crazy, or was he purposely insulting the beau- ful maiden? Fearless Prank stood aside, sg rently offering no objections to the hugging, an e Indians did likewise. At least Miss Terry made no serious attempts to free herself from the ‘‘ General’s ’’ bear-like embrace. A few bounds brought Redburn to the spot, pant- , breathless. ring. ‘‘ What is the meaning oP inte é pemrr | he demanded, i “D ful!’ The old “General” set erry after giving her a resounding to stare at the young miner, in astonishment, ‘‘ D ful! young man, ter tell the solid Old Testament truth, more or less— consider’bly less 0’ more ‘n more 0” less—I admire yer cheek, an’ unblushin’ as et ar’. Ye call my vin’ this tty piece o’ feminine gander a squar’, atherly sort 0’ a hug, Fae tbe Are do ye? et’s all out 0’ ther bounds 0’ propriety, do ye?” “T look at it in that light, yes,” Redburn replied. “Haw! haw! haw!” and the General shook his fat sides with immoderate laughter. “‘ Why, pilgrim- separ tus, this ae _— fa) jab oe Se nae o’ feminine gender b’longs to me—ter yo t W: ham Nix—an’ t have a Se indervidual right ter hug an’ kiss her as much as I please, wi’out brookin’ enny interference frum you. Alice, dear, this ar’ sup’intendent o down on her fee smack, and turn ar’ Harry Redburn, ther Flower Pocket avEM Seated *bout as fair spe-. Mr. Redburn, I’ cimen as they make, now: Ss. bogs ey Alice Terry, my formally present you darter /” Redburn colored, and was not a little disconcerted on account of his blunder; but he rallied in a mo- ment, and acknowledged the introduction with be- coming grace and dignity. “You must excuse my interference,” he said, ear- nestly, ‘‘I saw the old ‘General’ here taking liber- ties that no stranger should take, and knowi nothing of the relationship existing between you, was naturally inclined to think that he was either drunk or mn therefore I deemed it necessary to investigate. No offense, I hope.” “Of course not,” and Alice smiled one of her sweetest smiles. ‘‘ You did perfectly right and are deserving of no censure, whatever.” After a few moments of desultory conversation, Redburn took the “‘ General” to one side, and spoke on the subject of Fearless Frank and Anita Harris— of his action in the matter, and so forth. Nix—or Ebeok # as the latter was evidently his real name— h ily coincided with his views, and both agreed that it was best not to let the Scarlet Boy come within range of Anita, or, at least, not till Ned Harris should return, when he could do as he chose. Accordingly it was decided that Fearless Frank should be set to work in the quartz mine, that bein the furthest from the cabin, and he could eat an sleep either in the mine or in the crusher building, whichever he liked best. After settling this point the two men rejoined the others, and Frank was ge of their decision. He made no remarks pps t, but it was plain to see that he was anything but satisfied. His wild spirit yearned for constant freedom, The Utes were dismissed and sent back to their work; the “General” strolled off with McKenzie toward the quartz mine; it devolved ee Redburn to escort Alice to the cabin, which he did with pleas- ure, and gave her an introduction to sweet, sad- faced Anita, who awaited their coming in the open doorway. The two girls greeted each other with warmth; it was apparent that they would become fast friends when they learned more of each other. As for Redburn, he was secretly enamored with the ‘‘General’s,” pretty daughter; she was beautiful, and evidently accomplished, and her progenitor was financially well-to-do. What then was lacking to make her a fitting mate for any man? Redburn pongned deeply on this subject, as he left the girls ether, and went out to see to his duties in the mines. He found Terry and Fearless Frank in the quartz mine, looking at the swarthy-skinned miners; exam- ining new projected slopes; ing easier meth- ods for se ge different ae of gold-bearin rock. While the former’s knowledge of practica ar wae extends, the latter’s oR pean ‘ et thar ar’ bigger et, in fur- ther,” the old locater was Phy “tT dint much varsed on jeeological an’ ha graffical formation, 1 yen ye see; but then, it kinder ‘peers to me thet this quartz vein ar’ a-goin’ to hold out fer a consid- er’ble time yet.” “Doubtless. More straight digging an’ less slopes I a think would be practicable,” McKenzie ob- served. - “TI don’t see it!’ said Redburn, joining them. “‘ Sloping and transversing discovers ae veins, while line work soon plays out. Ithink things are working in excellent order at present.” They all made a tour of the mine which had been dug a considerable distance into the mountain. The quartz was ordinarily productive, and being rather loosely thrown together was blasted down without any extra trouble. After a short consultation, Red- burn and the “General” concluded to place Frank over the Utes as superintendent and mine-boss, as they saw that he was not used to ng, blasting or any of the rough work connected h the mine, Ie aed Pane yo inventive, en tende e position it was tefully ac- cepted by him, he expressing it his intention to work for the interest of his employers as long as he should 7 ight at tt Il the Fl P a ell over the Flower Pocket gold- mines, and work ceased. a The Utes procured their own food—mainly consist- ing of fish from the little creek and deer and moun- tain birds that could be brought down at almost any hour from the neighbo and slept in the open air. Redburn had McKenzie a comfortable bed made in the crusher-house, and sent him out a meal fit for a prince. As yet, Anita knew nothing of the scarlet youth's identity ;—scarcely knew, in fact, that he was in the valley. At the cabin, the ev meal was with a general expression of cheerfulness about the board. Anita seemed less downcast than usual, and the vivacious Alice made life and merriment for all. She was witty where wit was proper, and sensible in an un degree. Redburn was infatuated with her. He watched her with an expression of fondness in his eyes; ho admired her every gesture and action; he saw some- thing new to admire in her, each moment he was in er ‘ When the evening meal was cleared away, he took down the guitar, and several the old “General ° accompanying him with his rich deep vass, and Alice with her clear birdlike alto; and the sweet melody of the trio’s voices called forth round after round of rapturous applause from the road- nts camped upon the ey and from the Utes who were lo here and there among the flower- beds of the v was the only on tched . But of the lo ¢ bold enough to crproathr tes cuban
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ai Deadwood Dick. 11 He came sauntering along and halted on the thresh- old, nod to the occupants of the little a ent with a nonchalance which was not assumed. ““Good-evening!” he said, tipping his sombrero, but taking care not to let the mask slip from his face. “‘T hope mine is not an intrusion. Hearing music, I was loth to stay away, for I am a great lover of mu- sic;—it is the one passion that appeals to my better nature, He seated himself on the little stone step, and mo- tioned for Redburn to proceed. One of those inside the cabin had been strangely affected at the sight of Dick, and that person was Anita. She turned deathly pale, her ve assumed an expression of affright, and she trembled violently, as she first saw him. The Prince of the Road, how- ever, if he saw her, noticed not her agitation; in fact, he took not the second glance at her while he re- mained at the cabin, is eyes were almost con- stantly fastening upon the lovely face and form of Alice, Thinking it best to humor one who might become either a powerful enemy or an influential friend, Redburn accordingly struck up a lively air, ala banjo and in exact imitation of a minstrel, rende ““Gwine to Get a Home, Bymeby.” And the thun- ders of encore that came from the outside listeners showed how surely he had touched upon a pleasant chord. He followed that with several modern serio- comic songs, all of which were received well and heartily applauded. ; : “That recalls memories of good old times,” said the road-agent, as he leaned back against the door- sill, and gazed at the mountains, grand, majestic. stupendo and the starlit sky, azure, calm an serene, i Recalls the days of early boyhood, that were gay, pure, and happy. Ah! ho!” He heaved a deep sigh, and his head dropped up- on his breast. A deathlike silence pervaded the cabin; that one heartfelt sigh aroused a sensation of pity in each of the four hearts that beat within the cabin walls. That the road-agent was a gentleman in di was not to be spel all felt that, — lawed calling, he was deserving of a p As if to accord with his m Alice began asweet birdlike song, full of tender pathos, and of quieting sympathy. It was a quaint Scottish melody,—rich in its honey- ed meaning, sweetly weird and pitiful; wonderfully soothing and nouris to a weeping spirit. Clear and flute-like the maiden’s cultured voice swelled out on the still night air, and the mountain echoes caught up the strains and jent a wild peculiar ag ome gst : wood Dick listened, with his head still bowed, and his hands clasped about one knee ;—listened in a kind of fascination, until the last reverberations of the song had died out in a wailing echo; then he sprung abruptly to his feet, drew one hand wearily across the masked brow; raised his sombrero with a deft movement, and bowed himself out—out into the night, where the moon and stars looked down at him, perhaps with more lenience than on some. Alice Terry rose from her seat, crossed over to the door, and gazed after the straight handsome form, until it had mingled with the other road-agents, who had cam: upon the slope. Then she turned about, and sat down on the couch beside Anita. “You are still, dear,” she said, stroking the other’s long, unconfined hair. “Are you lonely? If not why don’t you say something?” “T have noth to say,’ wephed Anita, a sad, sweet smile pla over her features. “I have been too much en up with the-music to think of “But, you are seldom talkative.” “So brother used to tell me. He said I had lost heart, and tongue.”’ Red on the window-casing with his fingers;—a sort of lonely tattoo it was. “You seemed to be much rani Baste in the outlaw, ’ out- among y not, sir,’ and Alice flashed him an in- quiring glance. “‘Oh! for no reason, in pete only I fancied that song was meant especially for him.” Redburn, afterward, would have given a hundred dollars to have recalled those harden Te the haughty. half-indignant look Alice gave him instantly show him he was on the wro: Sack. ous nature. ke of a brother,” said Alice, turning to Anita. ‘Does he live here with you?” “Yes, when not away on business. He has now been absent for over a month.” * ee Is he as sweet, sad, and silent as your- “Oh! no , Ned is unlike me; he is buoyant, cheer- fh Real? What is his full name, dear?” her er TAAL ink tsitons ce grew sudde: e and hless, as she remembered the neniedene Younes miner whom Fear- less Frank had slain in the duel, just outside of Deadwood. This, then, was his sister; and evidently she as yet knew nothing of his sad fate. “Do you know aught concerning Edward Harris?” Redburn asked, seeing her agitation. Alice con- sidered a moment. “T do,’ she answered, at last. ‘“‘This Fearless Frank, whom I came here with, had a duel witha man, just above Deadwood, whosename was Edward “My God;—and his fate—?” “He was instantly killed, and left lying where he “—. ere was a scream of agony, just here, and a heavy fall. Anita had fainted! CHAPTER XIV. THE TRANSIENT TRIUMPH, Repsurn sprung from his seat, ran over to her side, and raised her tenderly in his arms. ‘Poor thing!” he murmured, gazing into her pale, still face, “‘the shock was too much for her. No wonder she fainted.” He laid her on the couch, and kept off the others who crowded around. “ Bring cold water!’’ he ordered, ‘‘ and I will soon have her out of this fit.” Alice hastened to obey, and Anita’s face and hands were bathed in the cooling liquid until she began to show signs of returning consciousness. You pe now give me the iculars of the affair,’’ Redburn said, rising and closing the door, for a chilly breeze was —— into the cabin. Alice proceeded to comply with his request by narrating what had occurred and, as nearly as possi- ble, what had been said. When she had concluded, he gazed down for several moments thoughtfully into the face of Anita. There was much yet that was beyond his powers of poy oe knotty problem for which he saw no immediate solution. “What do you think about it, ‘‘General’?’’ he asked, turning to the mine-locater. ‘‘ Have we suf- ficient evidence to hang this devil in scarlet?” “Hardly, boyee, hardly. ‘Peers ter me, ’cordin’ to ther gal’s tell, thet thar war a fair shake all around, an’ as duelin’ ar’ more or less ther fashun ‘round these ,—considera’bly more o’ less ’n less 0’ more—et ain’t law-fell ter yank a critter up by ther throat!”’ **T know it is not, according to the customs of this country of the Black Hills; but, look at it. That fellow, who I am satisfied isa black-hearted knave, has not only taken the life of poor but, very probably, has given his sister her death-blow, The eton is: should he go unpunished in the face of this evidence?” inne Let him go; J will be the one to punish im!’ It was Anita who spoke. She had partly arisen on the couch; her face was streaked with water and slightly rd; her hair blew unconfined about her neck and shoulders; her eyes blazed with a wild, almost savage fire. “Tet him go!’’ she repeated, more of fierceness in her voice than Redburn had ever heard there, be- fore. ‘He shall not escape my vengeance. Oh, my poor, poor dead brother!’ She flung herself back upon the couch, and gave herself up to a wild, passionate, uncontrollable out- burst of tears and sobs—the wailings of a sorrowi heart. Fora long time she continued to = an sob violently; then came a lull, during which she fell asleep, from exhaustion—a deep sleep. Redburn and Alice then carried her into an adjoining room, where she was left under the latter’s skillful care. Awhile later the cabin was wrapped in silence. When mo sunlight next ped down into the Flower Pocket, it found eve generally astir. Anita was up and p her household duties, me ie was calm, now, erp hose than vane ma a strange contrast 6, gaysome Alice, who flitted about, here and there, like some bright- ed butterfly surrounded by a halo of perpe' sunshine. Unknown to any one save themselves, two men were within the valley of the Flower Pocket gold- mines—there on business, and that business meant bloodshed. They were secreted in among the foot- hills on the western side of the flowering paradise, at a point where they were not observed, and at the same time were the observers of all that was going on in front of them. How came they here, when the hand of Deadwood Dick ed the only accessible entrance there was to the valley? The answer was: they came secretly through the pass on the night p the arrival of the road-agents, and had been lying in close con- cealment ever since. The one was an elderly man of * alge fi , and the other a young, dandyish fellow, Svillontty the one son, for they resembled each other in every eature. as the same precious pair whom Outlaw Dick ca tured from the stage, only to lose them again throug’ the treachery of two of own band. oy — considerably the bay for wear, and gaun expression on their features, as the oes Benge at Foe! shone down upon them, de- clared in a language more adequate than words. that they were beginning to suffer the first pangs of starvation. “We cannot hold out at this rate much longer!” the elder Filmore cried, as he watched the bustle in o valle no ate “Tm as empty as a collapsed bal- oon, and w S more, we’re in no prospects of im- mediate relief.” ‘ 4 ow the younger, groaned aloud in agony of spirit. f me eno he inhabit th a a wi Mag led, ‘00 em, anyhow!” he grow! savagelys just let me get back in ot ization again, T'll know ye to stay there.” “Bah! this little rough experience will do you meal or two and a were If we only had a et of sherry, I should feel quite athome. Noth- of increasing our individual ever have lured me into this outland- , penetra’ but a fair Sisom wo = place. But money, you know, is the root of a Sad , “Evil!” broke in the other, ‘‘and after three months’ wild-goose-chase you are just as destitute of the desired root as you were at first.” “True, but we have at least discovered one of the shrubs at the bottom of which grows the root!” ** You refer to Deadwood Dick?”’ “TI do. He is here in the valley, and he must never leave it alive. While we have the ce we must strike the blow that will forever silence his tongue.” rn Wess but what about the girl? She will be just as much in the way, if not a good deal more so.’ ““We can manage her all right when the proper time arrives. Dick is our e, now.”’ ““He may prove altogether too much game. But, now that we are a how much of the ‘lay’ isto be mine, when this boy and girl are fin- ished?’’ he queried. “How much? Well, that depends upon circum- stances. The gil ri fall to you.” “ The girl? ! I'd rather be excused.” The day passed without incident in the mines. The work went steadily on, the sounds of the crusher — strange music for the mountain echoes to mock. Occasionally the crack of a rifle announced that either a road-agent or a Ute miner had risked a shot at a mountain sheep, bird, or deer. Generally their aim was attended with success, pone sometimes they were unable to procure the slaughtered game. Redburn, on account of his clear-headedness and business tact, had full ng ig both mines, the “General”? working under in the shaft, and Fearless Frank in the quartz mine. When questioned about his duel with Harris by Redburn, McKenzie had very little to say; he seemed | pained when approached on the rene ine would an- swer no questions mae sede Sy ; was reserved and at times si arly haughty. During the day Anita and Alice took a stroll through the rag f but the latter had been warned, and fought shy of the —— mine; so there was no encounter between Anita and Fearless Frank. Deadwood Dick joined them as they were return- ing to the cabin, loaded down with flowers—flowers of almost every color and me, “This is . oe 3 day, cule alamas tt up a daisy, as he wa grace ong. ‘One rarely sees SO many beauties centered in Sue little valley like this—beautiful landscape and mountain acme? beautiful flowers beneath smiling skies, and lovely women, the chief center of attraction among all.’’ “Indeed !"’ and Alice gave him a — ish smile; “you are flattering, sir road- t. You, at least, are not beautiful, in that horrible black suit and vil- lainous mask. You remind me of a picture I have seen somewhere of the devil in . that is e make no difficulty in Nee any heen the land of civil- | and you can bet your bottom dollar | lacking is the horns, tail and cloven-foot.”” | Dick broke out into a burst of laughter—it was one of those wild, terrible laughs of so . to hear from one who was evidently em years. Both of the 1s were terrified, and would have fied had he not detained them. “Ha, ha!l’’ he said, stepping in front of them, “do not be frightened; don’t go, es. That’s only the way I express my amusement at anything.” “Then, for mercy's sake, don’t get amused 4 said gs aaa: ‘Why, dear me, I thought the Old Nick and all his couriers ‘had pounced down upon us. po , “Well, how do you know but what he has? J may be his Satanic majesty, or one of his envoys.” “T hardly think so; you are too much an — for that. Come, now, take off that detestable m and let me see what you look like.” - fa — I bee! a ra 7 — poe" ex- cept on conditions, for e gold yon toiling ers are finding, which, I am sa , is no small amount.”’ “You spoke of conditions. What are they?” ‘Some time, perhaps, I will tell you, lady, but not now.,__See! my men are to me, and I must go. Adieu, ladies;” and in another moment he had wheeled, and was striding back toward cam In their concealment the two Fihnores | this meeting between Dick and the two girls. **So there are females here, eh?” om the Ss Erinoe Pick was 4 Cte ptaliseniamnemene a nce Dick was a comparative ere. “That is my opinion,” ed ce, his thoughts reverting to hisempty stomach. ‘Did you _ hear that laugh a moment ago? It was more like | the screech of a lunatic than else.” | “Yes; he is a young tiger. is no doubt of that in my mind.’ | “And we shall have to oo the alert to take | him. He came to the cabin last night. If he does | — = we can mount him!” ore t the elder Filmore succeeded in ca id goose that had strayed down with the from somewhere above. This was killed, | dressed and half cooked by a brushwood fire which | they hazarded in a fissure in the hillside wherein | they had hidden. This fowl they almost ravenously devoured, and thus thoroughly satisfied their 4 ta / tites. They now felt a great deal better, or | turing a | stream the work in hand—of capturing and slaying the / devil Deadwood Dick. y. As soon as it was dark they rept, like the prowl- ing wolves they were, down into the valley, posi- tioned th es any cs A between the cabin and the road-agent’s camp, but several yards apart, with a lasso held above the grass between them, to serve yi tee aw, He -# So with dense —— ouds, gloom e valley was quite im- ble. From their concealment the two Fil
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12 Be adle’s Half-Dime Library. mores could hear Redburn, Alice and the “ General’ — up at the cabin, and if told them to be on their guard, as Dick might now come along at any moment. Slowly the minutes d d by, and both were growing impatient, when the firm tread of ‘the Prince’? was he swiftly approaching. Quickly the lasso was drawn taut. Dick, not dreaming of the trap, came boldly along, —- and went sprawling to the ground. The ne stant his ene- _— were on him, each with a long murderous knife CHAPTER XV. TO THE RESCUE! Tue suddenness of the ee prevented Dead- wood Dick from raising a hand to defend himself, and the two strong men piling their combined weights upon him, had the effect to render him utterly help- less. He would have yelled to apprise his comrades of his fate, but Alexander Filmore, ready for the emergency, quickly thrust a cob of wood into his mouth, and bound it there with strong strings. The young road-agent was a prisoner. : ‘Ha! ha!’ leered the elder Filmore, peering down into the masked face—‘‘ ha! ha! my young eaglet; so I have you at last, have 1? After repeated efforts to get you in my power, I have at last been reward- ed with success,eh? Ha! ha! the terrible scourge of the Black Hills lies here at my feet, mine to do with as I shall see fit.”’ “Shall we settle him, and leave him lying here, where his gang can find him?’’ interrupted the younger Filmore, who, now that his blood was UP, cared little what he did. ‘You give him one jab, and I will guarantee to finish him with the second!” “No! no! boy; you are too hasty. Before we silence him, forever, we must ascertain, if possible, where the girl is,”’ “But, he'll never tell us.” “We have that yet to find out. It is my opinion that we can oe him to terms, somehow. Take —_— ao we carry ‘him back to our hole. in e ”» Deadwood Dick was acco: ly seized by the neck and heels, and borne swiftly and silently toward the western side of the gui up among the foothills. into the rift, where the plotters had lain concealed since their arrival. Here he was placed upon the ground in a sitting ure, and two enemies crouched on either side of him, like beasts ready to spring upon their prey. Below in the valley, the Utes had kindled one soli- tary fire, and this with a starlike gleam of light from the cabin window, was the only sign of life to be seen through the ht’s black shroud. The trio in the foot! were evidently quite alone. Alexander Filmore broke the silence. The road-ag: The elder, after some deliberation, acquiesced, and Dick was placed in possession of his speaking power, while the muzzle of young Filmore’s revolver pressed against his breast, warned him to silence and obedi- ence. “Now,” said the elder Filmore, “just you keep mum. If you try any trickery, it 1 only hasten your destruction, which is inevitable!” Deadwood Dick gave a little laugh. “You talk as i = were going to do something — making me the center of funeralistic attrac- on.”’ ** You'll find out, soon nae. young man. I have not pursued you so long, for nothing, you may rest assured. Your death will be the only event mer can ores for all the trouble you have given me, n the *u “Ts that so? Well, you seem to hold all the trum cards, and I reckon you ought to win, though I can’t see into your inordinate thirst for diamonds, when spades will eventually triumph. Had I a full hand of ubs, lam not so sure but what I could ruise you, knaves though you are!” “I think not; when win, the game is virtu- ally up. We hold altogether to high cards for you, at present, and beg as you may, we shall not pass ou. we Don’t be too sure of it. The best trout often slips from the hook, when you are sanguine that you have at last been immoderately successful. But, enough of this cheap talk. Go on and say your say, in as few words as possible, for I am in a hurry.” Both Filmore, Sr., and Filmore, Jr., laughed at this —it sounded so ridiculously funny to hear a helpless prisoner talk of being in a hurry, ‘** Business must be pressing!’ leered the elder, sav- agely.. ‘Don’t be all scared. We'll start you humming along the road to Jordan soon enough, if that’s what you want. First, however, we desire you to inform us where we can find the girl, as we wish to make a clean sweep, while we are aboutit.” 5 “Do you bathe your face in alum-water?”’ abrupt- ly asked the road-agent, staring at his captor, quizzi- cally. ‘*Do you?” “Bathe in alum-water? Certainly not, sir. Why do you ask?’ “Because the hardness of you cheek is highly sug- gestive of the use of some similar application.’ Alexander Filmore stared at his son a moment, at loss to comprehend; but, as it him that he was the butt of a frightful curse. to dawn upon hit, he uttered a ““My cheek and your character bear a close resem- blance, then!’’ he retorted, hotly. .‘‘ Again lask you, will you tell me where the girl is?” “No! you must take me for an ornery mule, or some other kind of an animal, if you think I would deliver her into your clutches. No! no! my schemi knaves, I will not. Kill me if you like, but it will no accomplish your villainous ends. She has all of the papers, and can not only put herself forward at the rig it time, but can have you arrested for my mur- er!”’ ‘*Bah! we can find her, as we have found you; so we will not trifle. Clarence, get ready; and when I count one—two—three—pull the trigger, and I'll fin- ish him with my knife!”’ . ‘ All right; go ahead; I’m ready!” replied the duti- ul son, Fearless Frank sat upon a bowlder in the mouth of the quartz mine, liste: to the strains of music that floated up to him from the cabin out in the valley. and eu moodily away at a grimy old pipe he h urchased, together with some tobacco, from one of he Utes, with whom he worked. He had not gone down to the crusher-house for his supper; he did not feel hungry, and was more con- tented here, in the mouth of the mine, where he could command a view of all that was going on in the val- ley. With his pipe for a companion he was as happy as he could be, deprived as he was from association with the others of his color, who had barred him out in the cold. Once or twice during the day, on coming from within, to get a breath of pure air, he had caught a glimpse of Anita as she flitted about the cabin en- gaged at her household duties, and the yearning ex- pression that unconsciously stole into dark eyes, spoke of a passion within his heart, that, though it might be slumbering, was not extinct—was there all the same, in all its strength andardor. Had he been anted the privilege of meeting her, he might have displaced the barrier that rose between them; but now, nothing remained for him but to toil away until Redburn should see fit to send him away, back into the world from which he came. Would he want to go, when that time came? Hardly, he chaque, as he sat there and gazed into the quiet vale below him, so beautiful even in dark- ness. There was no reason why he should go back ain adrift upon the bustling world. e had no relatives—no claims that pointed him to go thither; he was as free and unfettered as the wildest mountain eagle. He had no one tosay where he should and where he should not go; he liked one place equally as well as another, roviding there was owe! of provender and work within easy range; he ad never thought of settling down, until now, when he had come to the Flower Pocket valley, and caught a glimpse of Anita—Anita whom he had not seen for years; on whom he had brought censure, rep and— A step among the rocks close at hand startled him from a reverie into which he had fallen, and caused him to spill the tobacco from his pipe. A slight trim figure stood a few yards away, and he perceived that two extended hands objects, whose glistening surface suggested that they were “sixes ” or ‘‘ sevens.” *‘Silence!’’ came in a clear, authoritative voice. ““One word more than,J ask you, and I'll blow your brains out. Now, what’s your name?” “Justin McKenzie’s my name. Fearless Frank generally answers me e purpose of a nom de plume,” was the ae * “Very ,” and the stranger drew near Suouen for the Scarlet Boy to perceive that he was clad in buck-skin; well arm and hair long, down over the square shoulders. ‘I’m ears f Jane.” If McKenzie uttered an ejaculation of surprise, it was not to be wondered at, for he had heard many stories, in Deadwood, concerning the “ dare-devil gal d up in men’s roggery. “Calamity Jane?” he echoed, picking up his pipe. “Where in the world did you come from, and how did you get here, and what do you want, and—” “One at atime, please. I came from Deadwood with Road-Agent Dick’s party—unknown to them, understand you. That answers two yaaa ia The third is, I want to be around when there’s any fun oing on; and it’s lucky I’m here now. I guess Dick fas ust got layed out by two fellows in the valley below here, and they've slid off with him over among the foot-hills yonder. I want you to stub along after me, and lend the voices of your sixes, if need be. I’m going to set him at a oe ‘“*T'm at your service,” quickly replied. Ex- pre ta was one of his passions; adventure was an- other, - ou well heeled?” “Treckon, Always make it a point to be prepared for wild beasts and the like, you know.” “A good idea. Well, if you are ready, we'll slide. I dont wank them toughs to get the drop on Dick if I can help it.” * Who are they?” *“Who—the toughs?”’ “Yes; they that took the road-agent.” “I don’t know ’m. Guess they’re tender-foots— some former enemies of his, without doubt. They propose to quiz a secret about some girl out of hi and then ehim. We'll have to hurry or they’ get their work in ahead of us.”’ They left the mouth of the mine, and skurried Ne into the valley, through the dense shroud of oom, 7 Calamity Jane led the way; she was both fleet of foot and cautious. Let us look down on the foot-hill camp, and the two Fillmores who are stationed on either side of their prisoner. ; wore a Spanish sombrero, The NC evep, Sel presses the muzzle of his revolver Deadwood Dick’s heart; the elder holds a long g ing knife upheld in his right hand. eaming e rent pant ptree tte. sei fe wo!”’—after a momen pause. Another of time, and then— wt ‘Hold! gentlemen; that will do!” cries a clear et Ls ringing voice; and Calamity Jane and McKenzie, stepping out of the darkness, with four. g “sixes ” in hand, confirm the pleasant assertion! CHAPTER XVI. THE ROAD-AGENT’S MERCY—CONCLUSION. NEVERTHELESS, the gleaming blade of Alexander Filmore descended, and was buried in the fleshy of Deadwood Dick’s neck, making a wound, but not necessarily dangerous. “You vile varmint,’’ cried Calamity Jane, pulli the hammer of one of her revolvers back to full cock; ‘‘you cursed fool; don't you know that thet onl S yer own miserable fate?” She took deliberate aim, but Dick interrupted her. “Don't shoot, Jennie!’ he gasped, the blood spurting from his wound; ‘this ain't none o’ your funeral. Give three shrill whistles for my men, and they'll take care o’ these hounds until I’m able to at- tend to’em. Take me to the cab—” He could not finish the sentence; a sickeni stream of blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell back upon the ground insensible. Fearless Frank gave the three shrill whistles, while Calamity Jane covered the two cowering wretches with her revolvers. The distress signal was answered by a yell, and in a few seconds five road-agents came bounding up. ‘Seize these two cusses, and guard ‘em well!” Calamity said, grimly. ‘ They are a precious pair, and in a few days, no doubt, you'll have the pleasure of attending their funerals. Your gen is wound- ed, but not dangerously, I hope. e will take him to the cabin, where there are light and skillful hands to dress his wounds. When he wants you, we will let you know. Be sure and guard these knaves well, now.” The men growled an assent, and after binding the captives’ arms, hustled them off toward camp, in double quick time, muttering threats of vengeance. Fearless Frank and Calamity then carefully raised the stricken road-agent, and bore him to the cabin where he was laid upon the couch, Of course, all was now excitement, Redburn and Alice set to work to dress the bleed- ing wound, with Jane and the ‘General ” looking on to see that nothing was leftundone. Fearless Frank stood apart from the rest, his arms folded across his breast, a grave, half-doubtful expression upon his handsome, sun-browned features. Anita was not in the room at the time, but she came in a moment later, and stood gazing about her in wondering surprise. Then, her eyes rested upor Fearless Frank for the first, and she w dea white; she trembled in every limb; a half-frighte . half-pitiful look came into her eyes. The young man in scarlet was similarly affected. His cheeks blanched; his lips became firmly com- pressed; a mastering expression fell from dark magnetic orbs. There they stood, face to f a picture of doubt; of indifferent respect, of opposite strong passions, subdued to control by a heavy hand. None of the others noticed them; they were alone, coureonss each oeier’ t to syed ae other's oughts; the one penitent and craving forgiven the other cold almost to sternness, and eg nee une willing to forgive and forget. Deadwood Dick’s wound was quickly and skillfully dressed; it was not dangerous, but was so ex - ly painful that the pangs soon brought him back to consciousness. The moment he opened his eyes he saw Fearless Frank and Anita—perceived their tion toward each other, and that it would req only a single word to bridge the chasm between them, A hard look came into his eyes as they gazed through the holes in the mask; then he gazed at Alice—sweet a uant Alice—and the hardness melted like snow ore the apring sunshine. ‘ “ Thank it was no deeper,” he said, sittin upright, and rubb the yp of his black-glova ry 9 over the es ~ covered the gash me” 2 though deuc bothersome, it is not of muck account. To the surprise of all he sprung to his feet, and strode to the door. Here he stop and looked around for a few moments, sniffing at the cool moun- tain breeze, as a ny Bigttirenes A single cedar tree stood by the cabin, branches, bare and naked, stretching out like huge arms above the doorway. And it was at these the road-agent gazed, a savage gleam in his erie eyes. After a few care observations, he turned his tage vin cke saa he said, gazing : * Justin McKenzie,” he said, at the you man, steadily, ““I want you to cr me a engvics, Go to my camp, and say to my men that I desire their presence here, together with the two prisoners, and a couple of stout ts, with nooses at the end of them. Hurry, now!" Fearless Frank started a trifle, for he seemed to reco; the voice; but the next instant he bowed assent, and left the cabin. When he was gone, Dick turned to Redburn, “Have you a glass of water beni. Cap? This dab In the gullet makes me somewhat thirsty,’ he Redburn nodded, and procured the drink; then a strange silence pervaded the cabin—a silence that no one seemed ng to break. At last the tramp of many feet was heard, and
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Deadwood Dick. 13. so a a moment later the rons agent, with Fearless Frank at their head, reached the doorway, where the halted. The poomnest, ppestwoos Dick came fosward here was a wild,: ening cheer, : “‘Hurra! hurra! Deadwood Dick, Prince of the Road, still dives. Three long hearty cheers, lads, and a hummer!” cried Fearless Frank, and then the mountain echees pga with a thousand dis- cordant yells of h 4 The sone road-agent responded with a nod, and then said: : “The prisoners; have you them there?” ‘“‘Here they are, Cap!’’ cried a score of voices, and the two Filmores were trotted out to the front, with ropes already about their necks. ‘Shall we h’ist ’em?”’ “Not jest yet, boys: I have a few words to say, Then scan, ane Per in the doorway, Dead- wood Dick continued: “Ladies and gentlemen, a little tragedy is about to take place here soon, and it becomes necessary that I should say a few words explaining what cause I have for hanging these two wretches whom you see here. “Therefore, I will tell you a short story, and you will see that my cause is just, as we look at these things here in this delectable country of the Black Hills. To begin with: t “My name is, to you, Hdward Harris!” and here the road-agent flung aside the black mask, revealing | the smiling face of the young card-sharp. “TI have | another—my family name—but I do not use it, pre- ferring Harris to it. Anita, yonder, is my sister. “Several years ago, when we were children, living | in one of the Eastern States, we were made orphans by the death of our parents, who were drowned while | driving upon a frozen lake in company with my uncle, Alexander Filmore, and his son, Clarence— those are the parties yonder, and as God is my judge, I believe they are answerable for the death of our father and mother, “ Alexander Filmore was appointed guardian over | us, and executor of our property, which amounted -to somewhere in the neig borhood of fifty thousand ‘dollars, my father having been for years extensivel engaged in ion, at which he was most al- “Ways SUCCESS ul. From the day of their death we began to receive | ‘the most tyrannical treatment. We were blero ‘kicked about, and kept in a half-starved condition. ‘Twice when we were in bed, and, as he supposed asleep, Alexander Filmore came to us and attempted ito assassinate us, but my watchfulness was a match ‘for his villainy, and we escaped death at his hands. “Finding that this kind of life was unbearable, I a to our neighbors and even to the courts for jprotection, but my enemy was a man of great influ- 2 and after many vain attempts, I found that I could not obtain a hearing; that nothing remained for me to do but to fight my own way. AndIdid fight it. *Out of my father’s safe I purloined a sum of a to defray our expenses for a while, and then, Anita with me, I fied from the home of my youth, I came first Fort Laramie, where I spent a year in the service of a fur-trader. “My during that year, sent three men ut they had the tables turned on Lay bleaching even now on out to kill me, them, and their bones e ns. = Durive that year my sister met a gay, dashing | oo ranger, who hailed to the name of Justin Mc- e, an of course she fell in love with him. That was natural, as he was handsome, suave and gal- _— and, more than all, reported tolerably well 0. “T made inquiries, and found that there was noth- nst his moral character, so I made no objec- his paying his attentions to Anita. “ But one day a great surprise came. “On returning from a buffalo-hunt of several days’ duration I found my home deserted, and a letter from Anita that she had gone with McKenzie to bay eae to live; they were not married yet, but veeTha ‘sroused the hellish’ part of nate 2 t aro e he P of my 0) nature. I believed that McKenzie was a ire her a life of dishonor, and it made my blood boil even think of it. Death, I swore, should be his reward for this infidelity. and mounting my horse I set out in hot haste for Cheyenne. * But Fe | there too late to accomplish my mission of vengeance, “T found Auta and took her back to my home, a ‘sad and sorro maiden; McKenzie I could not find; he had heard of my coming, and fled to escape my avenging hand. But over the head of my weep- ing sister, I swore a fearful oath of ve: ce, and I have it yet to keep. I believe there been some kind of asham e; Anita would never speak on -the subject, so I had to guess at the terrible truth. ‘‘And there’s where you made an mess of the whole affair!” cried McKenzie sepa into | the cabin, and leading Anita forward e hand. ‘Before God and man J acknowledge Anila Harris to be m legally wedded be Listen, Edward Harris, and t explain. That day that you came to | Cheyenne in pursuit of me, I'll acknowledge I com- a a an os that ine caused me much rouble since, e case was : “T was the nearest of kin to a rich old fur-trader, who posed to leave me all his p at his death; but he was a desperate woman-hater, and ‘bound me to a promise that I would never marry. “Tempted by the lust for gold, I yielded, and he was before I met tions -drew up a willin my favor. an Whee Ch the old man was ty en we went to Cheyenne, lying at the point of death; soI told Anita that we | wherein to would not be married for a few days, until we saw Your refusal has decided my future. A how matters were going to shape. If he died, we would be married secretly, and she would return to yout roof until I could get possession of my inher- tance, when we would go to some other of the country to live. If he recovered, I would marry her anyway, and let the old man go to Tophet with his MORAY Oe I see now how I was in the wrong. ‘““Well, that very day, before your arrival, the old man himself P ierery ~ down upon us, and cursed me | own, for up hill and struck me out from his a chaplain, and was married to Anita. I then went up to see the old man and find if I could not effect a we phen with him. “He told me if I would go with him before Anita and swear that she was not legally my wife, and that I would never live with her, he would again alter his will in my favor. ay and forthwith Ww . lL immediately sent for “Knowing that that would make no difference, so far as the law was concerned, I sent Anita a note apprising her of what was coming, and stating that she had best return to you until the old man should die, when I would come for her. Subsequently I went before her in company with the old man and swore as I had promised to do, and when I departed she was weeping bitterly, but I naturally supposed it was | sham grief A month later, on his death-bed, the old | trader showed me the letter I had sent her, and I re- alized that not only was my little game up, but that I had cheated myself out of a love that was true. I | was left entirely out of the will, and eversinceI have | bitterly cursed the day that tempted me to try to win gold and love at the same time. Here, Edward Har- ris,” and the young man drew a packet of papers from inside his pocket, ‘ are two certificates of my marriage, one for Anita, and one for myself. You | see now, that, although mine has been a grievous error, no dishonor is coupled with your sister's name.’ Ned Harris took one of the documents and glanced over it, the expression on his face softening. A mo- ment later he turned and grasped McKenzie’s hand. ‘*God bless you, old boy!” he said, huskily. ‘*I am the one who has erred, and if you have it in your heart to forgive me, try and do so. Ido not expect much quarter in this world, you know. There is | Anita; take her, if she will come to you, and may God shower his eternal bl upon you both!” McKenzie turned around with open arms, and Anita flew to his embrace with a low glad cry. ere was not a dry eye in the room, There was an impatient surging of the crowd out- side; Dick saw that his men were longing for the sport ahead; so he resumed his story: “There is not much more to add,” he said, after a moment’s thought. ‘I fled into the Black Hills when the first whispers of gold got afloat, and chancing upon this valley, I built us a home here, ve away the rest of our lives. “In time I o the band of men you see around me, and took to the road. Of this my sister knew nothing. The Hills have been my haunt ever | since, and during all this time yon scheming knaves ”’ —pointing to the prisoners—“* have been constantl sending out men to murder me. The last tool, Hug Vansevere by name, boldly posted up reward papers in the most uented routes, and he went the same way as his iecessors, that n could be accomplished through aids, my enemies have at last come out to superintend my butchery in person; and but for the timely interference of mity Jane and Juste McKenzie, a short time since, I sho ere inclined to be merciful to only those who have been merciful to me; therefore, I have decided that Alex- ander and Clarence Filmore shall pay the penalty of hanging, for their attempted crimes. Boys, string ‘em ‘p! . So saying, Deadwood Dick menres without the cabin, and closed the door behind him. Redburn also shut down and curtained the win- dows, to keep out the horrible sight and sounds. But, for all this, those inside could not help but hear the pl cries of the doomed wretches, the tramp of heavy feet, the hushed babble of voices, and at last the terrible shout of, '‘ Heave ’o! up the gos” which the commencement of vic- * journey into mid-air. Then theré was a long blank pause; not a sound was heard, not a voice a nor a foot moved. This silence was speed roken, however, by two heavy falls, followed ost immediately by the tramp of feet, Not till all was quiet did Redburn venture to | open the door and look out, All was dark and still, | The road-agents had gone, and left no sign of their work behind. When morning dawned, they were seen to have re- camped on the eastern slope, where the smoke of their camp-fires rose in graceful white columns — the clear transparent atmosphere. During the day Dick met Alice Terry, as she was gathering flowers, a short distance from the cabin. Alice—Miss Terry,” he said, gravely, ‘‘I have come to ask you to be my wife. I love you, and want you for my own darling. Be mine, ‘Alice’ and I will mend my ways, and settle down to an honest, straightforward life.” The beautiful girl looked up pityi 0,”’ she said, sha her and re your wife, Mr. Ha: You love another?” he in Nie tnd etna “Ty cannot love you, and never can be give him Coane: a | the wearing of d have | been numbered with the dead, Now, I am | congratulations. See, Alice;” here the -agent took the crape mask from his now resume this r road- ots have been, and a merry road-agent shall | die. Now, good-by forever.” | On the following morning it was discovered that | the road-agents and their daring leader, t her | with the no less heroic Calamity Jane, had left the valley—gone; whither, no one knew. About a month later, one day when Calamity Jane was watering her horse at the stream, twe miles above Deadwood, the road-agent chief rode out of the chaparral and joined her. He was still masked, well armed, and looking every inch a Prince of the Road, : “* Jennie,”’ he said, reining in his steed, ‘‘ Iam lone- i and want a companion to keep me company through life. You have no one but yourself; our | spirits and general temperament agree. Will you marry me and become my queen?” “No!” said the girl, nanny, sternly. “TI have had all the man I care for. e can be friends, Dick; | more we can never be!"’ | ‘Very well, Jennie; I ree’on it is destined that I shall live single. At any rate, Ill never take a re- fusal from another woman, Yes, gal, we'll be friends, if nothing more.” There is little more to add. | We night write at length, but choose a few words 4 sae t o’er true romance of life in the Black i McKenzie and Anita were remarried in Deadwood, and at the same time Redburn led Alice Terry to the | altar, which consummation the “General” avowed was “more or less of a good thing—consider’bly less | 0’ more *n’ more 0’ less.”’ . Through eastern ere a settlement of the Har- ris affairs was effected, the whole of the property being turned over to Anita, thereby placing her and Fearless Frank above want for a lifetime. Therefore they gave up their interest in the Flower Pocket mines to Godvere and the **General," Calamity Jane is still in the Hills. And grim and uncommunicative, there roams through the country of gold a youth in black, at the head of a bold lawless gang of road-riders, who, from his unequaled daring, has won and rightly de- / ey the name— Deadwood Dick, Prince of the THE END. FRANK STARR'S NEW YORK LIBRARY NOW READY, No. 1.—A HARD CROWD); or, GentLeMan Sam’s Sister. By the author of Tiger Dick. 10c, No, 2.—THE DARE-DEVIL; or, THE WINGED WircH OF THE SEA. By Col. Prentiss — ham. ; 3 3 ‘nl . 10c. No, 3.—KIT CARSON, Jr.; or, THE Crack SHor oF THE WeEsT. By Buckskin Sam, (Maj. Sam S§. Hall). i ; . 10c. | No. 4.—THE KIDNAPPER; or, THe Great SHANGHAI OF THE NORTHWEST. By Philip 8. Warne, Author of “Tiger Dick,” “ d Crowd,” ete. . , ‘ . 10c, No. 5.—THE FIRE-FIENDS; or, Hercu.es, THE HuncHBACK, By A, P. Morris, Jr. . 10c. No. 6.—WILDCAT BOB, THE BOSS BRUIS- ER; or, THE BorpDER BLOopHOUNDS. By Ed- ward L. Wheeler. : : 2 . 1c. No. 7.—DEATH-NOTCH, THE DESTROY- ER. By Oll Coomes. . : ‘ - 10e, No. 8.—THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN. By Capt. Mayne Reid. - ; 2 20e, No. 9.—HANDY ANDY. By Samuel Lov- er, ‘ . , ; d - We. No. 10.—VIDOCQ, THE FRENCH POLICE SPY. Written by if. ; . ec, No. 11—MIDSHIPMAN EASY. By Capt, Maryatt, . ; : ‘ P le. No, 12—THE DEATH-SHOT; or, Trackep To DeatH, By Capt. Mayne Reid. , 20c, No, 13—PATHAWAY;; or, Nick WHIFFLEs, | THE OLD TRAPPER OF THE NORTH-west. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. . 2 10c. No. 14—THAYENDANEGEA, THE SCOURGE; or, THE WaR-EaGLE OF THE MoHAWKS. By Ned Buntline. . ‘ . 10e. No. 15—THE TIGER-SLAYER; or, Eacir- Heap TO THE Rescur. By Gustave Aim- | ard. g : : ‘ 4 s 10e., For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, ; paid, on receipt of twelve cents for single num ; double numbers twenty-four cents. FRANK STARR & Co., Publishers, Platt and William Streete, N. Y,
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They are adapted to schools with or without the furniture of a stage, and introduce a range of ch rs suited to scholars of every grade, both male and female. It is fair to assume that no volumes yet offered to schools, at any price, contain so many available and useful dia- logues and dramas, serious and comic, A NEW BOOK OF POPULAR Dramas and Readings. 164 12mo Pages. W Cents. For Schools, Parlors, Entertainments and the Amateur Stage, comprising Original Minor Dramas, Comedy, Farce, Dress Pieces, Humorous Dialogue and Burlesque, by noted writers; and Recitations. and Readings, new and standard, of the greatest celebrity and interest. Edited by Prof. A. M. Russell. DIME HAND-BOOKS. Young People’s Series. BEADLE’s DIME HAND-BooKs FOR YOUNG PEOPLE cover a wide = of subjects, and are especially adapted to their end. The constitute at once the ¢ eapest and most useful works yet put into the market for popular circulation. Ladies’ Letter-Writer. Book of Games. Gents’ Letter-Writer. 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The Phantom Rider 17 Ben, the Trapper Delaware Tom 18 Wild Raven, ~ wed 19 The Specter Chief « Silver Rifle 20 The B’ar-Killer The Skeleton Scout 21 Wild Nat - Little Rifle 1 sent! yo ta Harry 54 Arkansas Jack 2 Dead Shot 55 Blackbeard 3 The Boy Miners 56 The River Rifles 4 Blue Dick | 57 Hunter Ham 5 Nat Wolfe | 53 Cloudwood 6 The White Tracker | 59 The Texas Hawks 7 The Outlaw’s Wife | 6) Merciless Mat 8 The Tall Trapper | 61 Mad Anthony’s Scouts 9 Lightning Joe | & The Luckless Trapper 10 The Island Pirate | 63 The Florida Scou 11 The Boy Ranger 64 The Island Trapper 12 Bess, the Arepper | 6 Wolf-Cap 13 The French Spy | 66 Rattling Dick 14 Long Shot | 67 Sharp-Eye 15 Gunmakerof the Border 68 lron-Hand 16 Red Hand | 4 The Yellow Funter rl 2 73 22 Indian Jo, the Guide 7% The Wood Witch 23 Old Kent, the Ranger 76 Old Ruff, the rep 2% The One-Eyed Trapper | 77 The Scarlet Shoulders 25 Godbold, the Spy 73 The Border Rifleman 26 The Black Ship 79 Outlaw Jack 27 Single Eye 80 Tiger Tail, the Seminole 28 Indian Jim 81 Death Dealer 29 The Scout 82 Kenton, the Ranger 30 le Eye 838 The Specter Horseman 31 The Mystic Canoe 84 The Trappers 32 The Golden Harpoon 8 Kaleolah 33 The Scalp 86 The Hunter Hercules 34 Old Lute 87 Phil Hunter 35 Rainbolt, the Ranger 88 The Indian Scout 36 The Boy Pioneer 89 The Girl Avenger 37 Carson, the Guide 90 e Red Hermitesa 38 The Heart-Eater 91 Star-Face, the Slayer 39 Wetzel, the Scout | 92 The ‘Antelope Boy 40 The Huge Hunter | 93 The Phantom Hunte. 41 Wild Nat, the Trapper | 94 Tom Pintle, the Pilot 42 Ep | ®% The Red Wizard 43 The White Outlaw | 96 The Rival Trappers 44 The Dog Traller 97 The Squaw Spy 45 The Elk Ki 98 Dusky Dick 46 Adrian, the Pilot 99 Colonel Crockett 47 The Man-hunter 100 Old Bear Paw 48 The Phantom Tracker | 101 Redlaw 49 Moceasin Bill 102 Wild Rube 50 The Wolf Queen 103 The Indian Hunters 51 Tom Hawk, the Trailer | 104 Scarred Eagle 52 The Mad Chief Others in Press, 53 The Black Wolf THE FIRESIDE LIBRARY, 1 Was SHE His Wire? 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Contents of No. 1. Ange} Gabriel, = d Le: syne, good time coming, Barbara Allan, Billy Larkin. Come, gang awa’ wi’ me, Cheer, 8, cheer, * Clicquot,” Grooked whisky! “Croo whisky!” Call me when breakfast is ready, French and English, Gay and happy, Hoop-la, Heather Jock, I knew that I was dreaming, I muse on thee, Johnny, you’ve been a bad boy, Juliana Jones, Jim, the carter lad, Let the girls alone, Landlord, fill your flowing bowl, Land of m h, Lord vel, Miss Gruber’s boarding house, My pretty red rose, Molly Bawn, Poor Jack, Pull down your vest, Put me in my little bed, Rose of gavin I Roll out! heave dat cotton, Rhine vine Sharley, See that my ve’s kept green, Sweet by ont nh Soe of. a " mabe ler, ng, 6, sing Ten minutes too late, The man in the moon Is looking, love, “-'Twixt two stools a man goes to the ground,” They all do it, The railroad engineer's song, The nightingale’s trill, They borrow, but never return, The butcher boy, The hazel dell, The vacant chair, Tom Bowling, The midnight bugle, The tempest, The drunkard’s raggit wean! Twinkling stars, The Marseilles hymn, The old English squire, ‘Inder the willow she’s sleeping, Yete Tane Crizinal version) oa, Emma (or ¥ Why can’t I have a beau? Wa ving for pa Who will care for mother now? Contents of No. 2. 4 coe 1 mochree, Bitter beer, Beside the sweet Shannon. onstantinople, Captain S tite of the musketeers Captain Jinks, Dandy Pat, Dandy barber Joe, Gentle Jennie Gray, George Constantine McKeown, Home n, Her bright smile haunts me still I'm looking at you now, I know when I’ve enough, I’m lonely since my mother Limburger sheese tache, My vife is so awfully thin, May the best man Norah, the pride of Kild One by one they cros river, Pull down the blind, = dat y= me, nson Crusoe, Rockaby, gee Sweet vision of childhood, Shall we ever meet in? Single blessedness a fib, te fields of home, the march of the Cameron men, The style in which it’s done, The five cent shave, I'ne merry widow, The Donegan light guard, The pilot, The cracksman’s chant, Take it, Bob, e heathen Chinee, The cork leg, The soldier's tear, The king’s highway, The O's and the Me’s, The steam ‘he sparkling solitaire, cle Tom’s lament, and be doing en the p to fly, Vithin a mile of Edinboro’ What were all the world without ee You make me laugh, You get more like your dad every Gold by all newsdealers, Contents of No 3. A national song, Bold Robin Hood, Bryan O’Lynn. Bi S Ragen the rover, Cackle, cackle, cackle, Coaxing with a kiss, Camptown races, Father will settle the bill, Good-by, John, God bless the little church, etc Hildebrandt Montrose, He isn’t as rich as he used to be, He was such a nice young man, Human nature, Hail to the chief, I do feel so awfully loose, Is there any such place? {t’s nice, Til be watching for you at, etc. It’s naughty, but it’s nice, I love my native land, I’m in it, Juanita, Leger beer mong. Little maid of Arcadee, Mary McGinnis, Mary of the wild moor, Massa’s in de cold ground, Mine host! mine host! come, ete. My brudder gum, Mary Avourneen, Nancy Lee, Never despair. Our army and navy of blue, Only a flower there, Old folks at home, Peter Gray, Pink dominoes, Papa says I may, Rel. white and blue, Sing! sing! sing! Song of the locomotive, SP — shillelah, Shall we know each other there? The Gainsboro’ hat, Terrance Muldoon, The flreman’s boy, The summer of love, The runaway mare The roast beef of old England, The timid awkward squad! The boulevard The low back’d car, The Campbells are comin’, The Yankee boy, The fighting dog, The brave old oak, The Dlagner, When the flowers fall asleep, Wake! Dinah, wake. wy have my loved ones gone? Whisper it softly, Yankee ship, and a Yankee crew, Contents of No. 4. After toiling cometh rest, A starry night for a ramble, Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, Auld Robin Gray, ieee way promenade, Hail, Columbia, Home, sweet home, Hard tim In her “ little bed” we laid her, Iam waiting, Essie dear, “T cannot sing the old songs,” Johnny Morgan Little green vail, Looking back, Lather and shave, Mollie Brady, Nelly was a lad Ohl yon pretey biné-eyed wi wine y | Old Rosin the Beau, Over the left, Pop goes the weasel, Par excellence, | “Put the brake on when, etc. Row, row, * Rory O’Moore, yn fire, The miller of the dee, The minute at sea, The other side of Jordan. The old oaken bucket which The reilicking old 3 ; The rollic old man, There are Kisses waiting for me, The monks of old, The fine old Engish gentleman, The fine old Dutch gentleman, The fine old Irish gentleman, The spider and the fly, “There’s nothing succeeds like success, The mocking bird, The oynen servant girl, Whisperines of lov Vi | You never miss the water, ete. FIFTY OR MORE SONGS IN Contents of No. 5. Annie Laurie, A sailor’s life for me, Answer to Kate Kearney, A bit of my mind, A thousand a year, Buttercups and daisies, nay. was a sailor’s bride, Battle of the ke: Be sure you’re r ‘ht, ete. Be kind to thy father and mother, Come to the ole gum tree, Call her back and kiss her, Come where the moonbeams, etc. Don’t marry your mother-in-law, Fle —y tl t Afto ow gently, swee n, Fair Rosabelle, Good news from home, Gentle Annie, Haunting eyes. He led her to the altar, T’ll strike you with a feather, Isle of beauty, I never refuse, Jocky hat and feather, Jeannette and J eannot, Jamie! Kitty Kimo, Kate Kearney, Lord Bateman and fair Sophia, My heart’s in the Highlands, My dear old mother, My eye and Betty Martin, No one to love “Our laddie’s dead, Jem,” Oh! I shall call dada, Rather too “heavy” for me, Sleeping, I dreamed, love, Say, bird of summer, Silver moonlight se “Sparklin, per Heidesick,” Ship a-hoy! Sr he a ene gang nee Terry oine e . “ Strike the tron while it’s hot.’ The star that leads to thee, The household clock, ’Tilda Horn, ‘Twas like a spirit’s sigh, ‘Twas rank and fame, The answer. The way to be happy, The pirate’s serenade, The belle of the ball, The sweet, sunny smile, etc. Ten o'clock ; or, remember, ete, The sea king’s burial, The old man’s got to go, To the love of my youth, etc. ae an and seventy-two, enty years ago, Uncle Ned, Woodman, spare that tree, Contents of No. 6. “A lock of my mother’s hair,” Alas! my love’s away. Answer to a thousand a year, Away down East, A life on the ocean wave, Ada, with the golden hair, Ben Bolt ’ By the sad sea-waves. Brown eyes has that little maid- en, Base-ball,} Beautiful dreamer, Boy with the auburn hair, Clear the way, Castles in the air, mother, I’ve come home to ie Don’t you dare to kiss me, Joe! Evangeline, Finigan's wake, “Free and easy,” George, the charmer, Her pretty, smiling face, I want to go home to mamma! I wish I was in Dixie’s land, I’ve only been down to the club, I really don’t think I shall marry “John Barleycorn is a hero bold,” Keep on kissing me, Kicking a man when he’s down, Katy did, Katy didn’t, Kind and true. Lanigan’s ball, Mulcahy’s home n, Miss Malony’s ball, My love is still the same, Merry little birds are we, Nelly Gray, Nelly Bly, Never venture, never win! Over the mountain, Oh, merry hours! Poor Juney, Roger O'Mallc} r 0’ ey, Rock me to sleep, mother, Silver stars are softly gleam- ing Song of Blanche Alpen, Sweet long ago, e scamp, The little blacksmith ee girl that’s out, e goat, till the moonlight falls on Wait the water, EACH ISSUE. Contents of No. 7. Awfully awful, Am ca, American vocal melody, pathing in the surf, Bear it like a man, Crazy Jane Come, maiden, with me. Dat’s der kind of mans Tam, | Dreaming and drifting, | Every inch a sailor, Gees the griddle, birdie, Dar- ng, He knows how to do it, I Be! you'll be true to me, n, IT hold the winning hand, I'll remember you in my pray- ers, Jeremiah, blow the fire, Little diamond dewdrop, Like a Turk! Mother, dear, I’m thinking of you, My pretty little blonde, Marriage bells, . Hinagan, Never push a man because he’s poing down the hill, Oh, George! beautiful George! Oh} I’m going Pretty as a plceare, “Pulling ard against stream,” Pretty little primrose, Remember you have children of your own. Spooning on the sands, Speak to me, speak, Stick to your trade and be true, The belle of Rockaway, That’s the style for me, boys, T was a Welshman, Take this letter to my mother, The blonde that never dyes, Tassels on the boots, The big sunflower, The rollicking rams, The Mulligan geand. The blue and the gray, ake your coat up to your uncle, The old folks are gone, The little ones at home, The belle of Pleasure bay, Uncle Sam’s farm Winter—sleigh-bell song, What is home without a mother, Wait for the wagon, Would you if you were me? Widow Machree, home, the Contents of No. 8. you awful,” Brother’s fainting at the door, Bobbin’ around, ume sit by my side, little dar- our darling again, “Come Back to Erin,” Dot German band, Dat Keay, old nigger ball, Don ve up the ship, Good-by, lovely Lou, Happy Hezekiah He isn’t a marrying man, I'll speak to you gladly again, I’m going home to Dixie, Isn’t he a darling? Jordan is a hard road to travel, Killarney Kitty Clyde, Little more cider, La-de-da-de Micks, Minnie Dear, Muldoon, the solid man, My own, my guiding star, gal, ‘Hanna, mnie Rooke, My little wife ashore, Nobody’s darling but mine, b ae Black Joe, Only ey kindly to 8 ndly to me, On the beach at Long Bran: “Oh wouid I were a bird!” Our captain’s last words, One hundred years Pat Roach at the play, Row, row your boat, Schaky Mperyay The finest police in the world! That’s the proper caper, The teetotal society. The candidate for alderman, e young widow, The little ones asleep, The city boliceman, Tra-la-la, George! The belle of the day, The dear little shamrock, There is no harm in kissing, The Irish emigrant’s lament, The harp and sword of Erin, Call me a i ch, Uncle Pomp’s return, Unhappy Jeremiah, Wait for the turn of the tide, Willie, we have missed yor When the blossoms are w: the orchard, of Brown comes rolling | Would I were with thee, | Young fellah, you’re too fresh, five cents each; or sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt of six cents per copy. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 | EP ite in | Contents of No, 9. Brother, tell me of the battle, By de light of de moon, Balm of Gilead, Casey’s whisky, Come home, father, Chickabiddy, Dear old words, Dermot Astore. De ole corn mill, “De bad Bob Lee,” . pay Jones,” ar =, ling, Echoes Ever of thee, Even Star, Fat Mickey, a wae ae alleweil! -n Hark! I hear an angel s Hold the fort, _ I’ll meet you on Broadway, I miss thee so. I wouldn’t iff could, Kiss me again, Katy Darling, Kafoozleum, Katie Lee and Willie Gray, Kitty McGee, Keep a little corner in your heart for me, Leaning on a balcony, Lora Vale. My sweet Polywog, Merit commands success, My own native land, My sweet girl, Not before Pa, dear, Our M Ann, Oh, let him rest, Pretty Jemima, don’t say no, Playing in the ha: A Shy young girl; or, Du-da, da. She was clerk in a candy store, Shakey Dinkelspiel, Still I love thee, Shells of the ocean, The Hills of New The Pope he leads a The gir on the wire, The bell goes a- The old folks we lov The bashful gtr), The gallant b de! The fellar that looks like me, e bird song, The diamond ring, me = og house. Ce) ground, Upina Bal on, Uncle Ben, the Yankee, “Up a tree!” Write to me often, darling, When the little birds are sing land, ppy life, for, etc. long ago, ing in the garden ! whlsxy, ou’re the divil When Jo! comes marching ete Will a m ey climb a tree Your pocket-book is your, etc. Contents of No. 10. A merry Gipsy girl again, Baby’s got ot tooth! Billy Johnson’s ball, Breeze of the night, Colleen Avarra, Coming home from the ball, De gospel car, “ Douglas tender and true,” Dark-eyed Norina, Dutch onion vender, Down the river, Eilleen Allanna, luribus Unum. Farewell song of Enoch Arden, , From Madison to Union Square, praves of - ae py-go-lucky, Hele such a lovely waltzer! Her front name is ‘‘ Hannar,” Have you seen my sister? I’m the governor's son, It’s funny when you feel, etc. I’m leaving thee in sorrow, etc. Jack's yarn, Kissing in the moonlight, Kiss me quick and go, “Little Barefoot,” Lilly Dale, Little Nannie. Let me Kiss him for his mother, tle e May, Minnie Orr ees dear little Mollie Malone, Maggie f side. Paddy’s the boy ‘ Pretty blue-eyed belle, Rather too old for me, Susan Jane, Suangers et, e’s handsome as a rose, The Hoolahan musketeers! “That’s what our papers say,” The door ajar, That girl across the ; The fisherman’s daughter, | The lake-side shore, Those dark ey' | The graveof Bona , Up with the lark in the morning, Three e oNE: 8, The Newfoundland dog The lass that loves a sailor, bein ead blue, ere’s a will there's, etc. Wiilie’ll roam no more, William Street. N. Y
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Contents of No. 11. | The fars farewell, Alma Mater O, All for her, An answer to “ dle, Birdie Darling, Angels whisper, wed mine; or, the sailor’s wife, Bright-eyed Little Nell of, etc. Blind Orphan boy’s lament, Commence, you darkies all, Cushlamachree “ Don’t forget the old folks,” Don’t make a noise or else you’ll wake the baby, Darby M’Guire, Eileen Mavrone, Farewell, Kathleen, Guess what itis you can have it, of the regiment, Happy are we to-night, Billy Barlow, Tl meet pon in the park, “ Billiards and pool,” I care not how fortune may vary | Comin’ thro’ the rye The age of progress, Upside down, Virginia Belle, Who'll have me? “Yes, or no,” A warrior bold, Juliana Phebiana Constantina | org res Py the dreamy waltz, Brown, | Dot leedle sofa, Live in my heart and pay no, etc, | Gum-tree canoe, Let me dream again, Glad to get home My fan, Gal from the South, New England, Giveover, John, Nora Mshane, Glor hally, hallelujah; or, the Oh! Erin, my country, John Brown Song, Old Grimes, Gipsy Davy. Oh, see dat angel band, ee appy dreams of you,” Over the river, Hip, hurrah! hip, hurrah! Obey! obey! obey! I never loved before Oh! Joe, Oh ye tears, man,” ing Say one little prayer in your, eto, | J anet’s choice, She’s a wink and 4 smile that | Johnny Sands, charms me! Stand by the poor, Silver threads among the gold. She suits me, down to the ground The lone fish-ball, The big bonanza, True to the core, The post-boy’s song, pt thin ag e good cigar, The convivial man, The buckles on her shoes, “ That gal o’ mine,” Little Rosebud, | Love among the roses, Love’s chidings Meet me at the lane, My son Ne pee My latest captivation, No letter yet for me, No smoking allowed, Old Noah, Oh! I’se so wicked! The boys of Kilkenny, The last rose of summef, ase the grid- | The emigrant’s farewell, When these old clothes were new When I took our Nance to church We'd better bide a wee, We stand here united, Contents of No, 12. Ask me not why; or, the daughter Pray, have you a letter for me? Revelry of the dying, Song of the butterfly, She’s a gal o’ mine, The moss eae red The rocky road to Dublin, The hero of the ring! Tally ho, The light in the window, There are friends that we never foryet, The fairy queen, The rock of liberty, The belle of the avenue, The pride of Killarny, The three black crows, Uncle Sam is brave and free, We can’t do without the merry chink, chink, chink! What makes ’em wiggle so? Wearing of the green, “= are out on the ocean sail- ng, Where the water-lilies grow, We will hold our own, Winking at me, Contents of No. 13. Blue glass, Come sit by my side, little, ete. Come into the garden, Maud, Colinette, Charlie de Rogers, “I’m what you call a military ' Do not heed her warning, Erin is my country, Judge’ not @ man by his cloth- Farewell, darlin He kissed her sedthe kissed him, His deeds be forgotten, Irish Molly, O. FIFTY OR MORE SONGS IN EACH ISSUE. . Oh, Bester avourneen, I will let youin, -° Polly Perkins of Washington, etc “Rival frogs,” St. Patrick’s day, Sometimes She tossed her curls at me, Sweet love, when you are near, Still so gently o’er me stealing, See that my nose is kept red, The rollicking Irishman, The swell of the day, The black Hussars, The hat my father wore, That’s where you make the, ete. | I'd rather be a violet, | I’m sure that I could do it, Tam not angry, I'd be a Gipsy, I dreamed my boy was home, etc I’m o’er young to marry yet, | Jenny Brown and I, Johny was a shoemaker, | Look before leaping, Letting the old cat die! Long, long ago, My old Kentucky home, ete. My poor dog Tray, Maggie’s secret, Married soon we'll be, The Gipsy’s warning. The Italian guinea-pig boy, Toss the Turk, The modern belle, The American boy, | The Irish jaunting car, The dearest spot of earth, | qepning at the garden gate, The land of St. Patrick forever, The Waterford boys, Then you’ll remember me, The kiss in the street, The dear little damsel, = ey that once thro’ Tara’s alls, *Tis home where’er the heart is, The dying Californian, Thou wounded the spirit, ‘The colored waiters,” e Dutch drum major, ve la Bacchanal, We met by chance, Yankee doodle, “You’ll sometimes think of me.”) My girl with the calico dress, My home in Kentucky, Never desert a friend, Old dog Tray, Old dog tg > No. 2. One sweet little wish, darling, Oh! take me to thy heart again, Our toast! Red, white and blue, Row, row, brothers, row, See if I’d get mad Star of the twilight, Sea waves, She reigns alone, Stuffed goose, zepping o the window, The ribbon of blue, There’s magic in your kiss, The farmer’s daughter, The Canadian boat song, The Glendy Burk, They say ’ma bgt tough man! The farmer sat in his easy-chair, The battle-cry of freedom, The Carbineer, “Littie mountain daisy,” My father sould charcoal, e did build an ark, “Pull slow and steady, boys, I think of old Ireland wherever I go, I thought she was an angel, It’s just my oe I wish he would decide, mamma, I want to go home, Kiss me! would you, “Keep studying,” Limerick races, My rattling mare and I, Never go back on your triend, Oh! Susannah, Our grandfathers’ days, Brace up, Don’t Contents of No. 14. All's for the bes All round my hat, tes by the sea, et the roses listen, Don’t be angry Every household has its angel, Five o’clock in the morning, Fill the cup, all jolly fellows, Grandmother told me so, | In this beautiful land of my, etc.| You are an awful tease! We'd better be happy than rich! We all are growing old, What the papers Say, What will . Grundy say? What are the wild waves saying? We can’t agree, We are growing old together, Willie’s on the dark blue sea, We are comitng, sister Mary, We'll have a little dance to-night, oOys. You've been a friend to me, mother, Sold by all newsdealers, five cents each; or sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt of six cents per copy. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, N. Y. BEADLE’S HALF-DIME LIBRARY. 1 Deadwood Dick, Tre Privce or THE Roap. By Edward L. Wheeler. Yellowstone Jack; or, THE TRAPPER oF THE ENCHANTED Grounpb. By J. E. Badger, Jr. 3 Kansas King; or, THe Rep Ricat Hanp, By B lo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe; Taz Youne WANDER- 1nG Jew. By Oll Coomes, 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper; or, Lirz In THE Nortuwest. By Edward 8. Ellis. <4 The Fl Yankee; or, THe OcmAN Ovrcast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. bee Seth Jones; or, THz Captives OF THE Frontrer. By Edward 8. Ellis. 9 The Adventures of Baron Mun- chausen,. 10 Nat Todd; or, THe Fare or THE Sroux Caprive. By Edward 8. Ellis. 1 1 The Two Detectives; or, THE Fortunes or A Bowrery Giri. By Albert W. Aiken, author of ‘‘ The Spotter Detective,” etc, 12 Gulliver's Travels. A Voyage to Lilliput, and a Voyage to Brobdingnag, Dum - By Ol Coom 1 3 she of | ee Joe,” ote. o% : 4 Aladdin; or, THR WonpDERFUL Lamp. 1 5 The Sea-Cat; or, THe Wrrcn oF Darien. By Capt. erick Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and Surprising Adventures, (27 illustrations,) 1 qT Ralph Roy, The Boy Bucea- neer. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 1 tony Sindbad the Sailor, His seven voy- ages. From the Arabian Nights, Spy; or, Tue Pmor eee eter EP Lica Bar ble Da rs; or, DEap- 20 a Sng how's Denia. By Edward L, Wheeler, author of ‘‘ Deadwood Dick.’ 21 Frontier Angel. A Romance of Kentucky Rangers’ Life. By Edward 8. Ellis, author of ‘Seth Jones,” etc 222 The Sea Serpent; or, THz Boy Ropinson Crusoz, By Col. Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o’ the Night: or, Taz Boy Spy or 76. By T. 0. Harbaugh. Diamond Dirk: or, Taz Mystrery oF THE YELLOWSTONE. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, author of “The Flying Yankee,” etc. 2 5 The Boy Captain: or, THz Prmartx’s DaventTer. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Demon. By Edward L. Wheeler 2Q7 Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. By Ol Coomes, QR Buffalo Ben, the Prince of the Pistol: or. Drapwoop Dick IN Diseuisr. By Edward L. Wheeler 29 The Dumb Page; or, THe Docr’s Daveuter. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, Tux Reckiess Ranegr. By Harry St. George. 31 Keen-Knife, THe Prince oF THE Praries. By Oll Coomes. 3 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian: or, THe Girt Deap-Syor. By Edward L. Wheeler, author of “ Deadwood Dick,” etc., ete. 33 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, THE Rep Pirates oF THE CARIBBEES, By Samuel W. Pierce, author of “‘The Boy Detective,”’ etc., ete, 34 Oregon Sol; or, Nick Wutrrizs’ Boy Spy. By Capt. J. F.C, Adams, 3 5 Wild Ivan, Tue Boy CLAupE Dovat; or, THe BroraerHoop oF Drats, Dead- wood Dick Romance No. 4. By Edward L. Wheeler. 36 The Boy Clown; or, THE QUEEN OF THE ArensA. By Frank 8. Finn. 3 yf The Hidden Lodge; or, Tux LirrLE Hunter oF THE ADIRONDACKS. By T. C. Harbaugh, author of “ Nick 0’ the Night,” etc. 38 Ned Wylde, Tux Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. 39 Death-Face, the Detective; or, Lir: anp Love mv New Yors. By Ed- ward L. Wheeler. 40 Roving Ben. A story of a Young American who wanted to see the world. By John J. Marshall. Al Lasso Jack, THE Youna Mustana- ER. By Oll Coomes. 42 The Phantom Miner: or, Drap- woop Dick’s Bonanza, By Ed. L. Wheeler, 43 Dick Darling, the Pony Express Rider. By Capt. F. Whittaker. Rattling Rube: or, Tue Nicuar- HAWES OF amwocke. By Harry St. George. . 4 5 Old Avalanche, the Great An- nihilator: or, THE Girt BRIGAND. By Edward L. Wheeler. Ready June 4th. 46 Glass Eye, the Great Shot of the West. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 4A%7 migengste Nat: or, THe Forest APTAINS. By T. C. Harbaugh. 4. Black John, the Road-Agent, or, Tae OurTLAw’s RerreatT. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr., 49 Omaha Oll, the Masked Terror, or, Deapwoop Dick in Danger. By Ed- ward L. Wheeler. 50 Burt Bunker, THE Trapper. A Tale of the North-west Hunting-Grounds. By Charles E. Lasalle. 51 The Boy Rifles, or, THz UnpEr- Grounp Camp. By Archie C. Iron. 5 The White Buffalo. A Tale of Strange Adventure in the North-west. By Charles E. Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., THz Boy PHENIX; or, THROUGH TO THE DratuH. By Edward L. Wheeler. 5 4. Ned Hazel, Tur Boy TRAPPER: or, _ THE PHANTOM Princess, By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. 5 5 Deadly-nye, Tas Unknown Scour; or, THE BRANDED BroTHERHOOD. By Buf- falo Bill. Ready August 13th. 56 Old Nick Whiffles’ Pet, or, In tur Vatitey or DeaTH. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams, Ready August 20th. A new issue every week. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. ADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York,