Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 201) (1881 05 31)
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A Be . ? LLLLLLLLLLLyA SS Ulf aoe EEE fos LANE” A, AMIGA won Y @S& aS. — 5 = —= , wor, TO ’ ; AOA ATT ) ‘ a a \~ Nt a tn 5 eK rt J a a mth Com Ae ANS : $2.50 a year. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N.Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. _ Copyrighted in 1881 by BEADLE AND ADAMS, — May 31, 1881. . ° Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, Vol. VIII. Number. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. No. 201. THE BLACK HILLS JEZEBEL: or, DEADWOOD DICKS WARD, 2x. BDWARD. Li. WEB LER, AUTHOR OF ‘“‘ DEADWOOD DICK” NOVELS, ‘ROSEBUD ROB” NOVELS, ‘‘ GILT-EDGED DICK,” ‘‘ BONANZA BILL,” ETC., ETO, + Se PT 8's aa) a2 St a Wn 0S ai, t AN ayy ay \ BA | y So yes SS Gy x Eis “on! LET ME GO—PLEASE DO,” SHE SAID, STRUGGLING TO RELEASF HERSELF, ‘‘I—I WAS ONLY TRYING TO STUDY OUT IF , YOU WERE NOT—IF YOU WERN’? DEADWOOD DICK.”
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, seems lurking in his veins. 2 ‘The Black Hills Jezebel. The Black Hills Jezebel: DEADWOOD DICK’S WARD. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF “DEADWOOD DICK” NOVELS, ‘*ROSEBUD ROB” NOVELS, ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. BEAUTY AND THE BBAST. ’ Sunset was kissing the tops of many a rock crest and pine forest in the wild Black Hills country—a balmy, glorious August sunset, at that, whose warmth, mingled with the flower perfumed breeze, was grateful to the senses of one whose pathway it illumined. All nature seomed smiling as the day narrowed down toward the embrace of night. Down on a rough and narrow stage-road, that wound out of the hills toward a lower gulch-river section of country, came one of those ponderous overland wagons known as “prairie schooners,” drawn by a pair of oxen, or rather held back by them, for the road was descending, all the way, and in many places dungerously steep. On the front part of the wagon was a high seat, upon which sat a girl dressed in boy’s clothes, from the long-legged patent-leather boots she wore to the jaunty slouch hat which was cocked up on one side of her head, and she it was who cracked a long-lashed whip over the oxen’s heads, and her voice rung out with “haw” ‘‘ gee” and ‘‘g’long,” arousing musical echoes among the cliffs, that overhung the road. In form and face this girl was quite prepos- sessing. Her figure was about the medium hight of American women, symmetrical, grace- ful and well developed, while her face was round, prettily chiseied and browned with ex- posure to the wind and sun, with laughing blue eyes, and a wealth of light-brown hair worn loosely over her shoulders, that any lady in the land might have envied. The curtains of the schooner were closed, and the girl driver was the only human to be seen, as the ungainly vehicle rolled along, ofttimes threatening to pitch over the great embankment that descended on the right hand side. Yet the driver seemed to have no fears ef this, and cracked her long-lashed whip merrily. “@lang, Buck! Haw, there, Bright. Won’t ye never learn to keep in the road? Next to a rule, you’re the meanest critter on the face 0’ the earth, to drive, tho’ you have come a good stretch, to-day, an’ I allow we’ll strike acampin’ spot before long. Eh, daddy ?—sha’n’t we make a halt, purty soon?” There was a groan from within the covered vehicle; the curtains parted, and a strange-look- ing head atta¢hed to humped shoulders, pro- truded from within. A horrible smile came over the hairy face, as he thrust it through the curtains, by the side of his singularly pretty companion. “Stop?’? he demanded, with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘No! no! Let’s press on—press steadily on. Our destination is not many miles away, and we can reach it in time.” “But, not to-night, daddy. We must camp and rest up our royal stud of Arabian chargers, here, or first we know one of ’em will «drop, and P’ll hev to harness you up with the other ox.” A frown of dissatisfaction crossed the old man’s face. ‘*Well, well—have your own bie . en growled, crawling back out. of sight. ‘ you get fresh meat give me mine raw; it whets my appetite for vengeance. Ha! ha! ha!” “Ana ‘he Jaughed in a way that was simply frightful to hear. ; “Poor father,” the girl driver murmured, even her pretty young face sree. pained in expression. ‘* Sometimes I believe he is really ‘growing crazy over his trouble; but at other ‘times he appears so rational that no insanity Ugh! I dread to an- ticipate the future. There will be trouble, without doubt, and Heaven only knows what will be the result to him, and to me.” Even the sunlight failed to chase the doubt- ful expression from her features, and the wagon rolled along joltingly down into a narrow guich between two giant mountains, where the sun’s beams never penetrated. Here were grass and water—a little brooklet fed by a spring that gurgled from the rocks, and a3 good a camping-place, probably, as could be found for miles around. Therefore, the girl gave the oxen an order to halt, and they were not slow about obeying, for they had pulled the heavy vehicle up and down the rugged mountain roads, since early morn- ing. A glance into the wagon apprised her that the hunehback was asleep, so the pretty driver sprung to the ground and unyoked the oxen, and turned them out to graze. Then, taking a light sporting rifle from the wagon, she set off up the gulch in quest of game. It was not yet dark, but soon would be, as the shadows of evening were beginning to creep into the gulch, and she knew it was neces- sary to replenish the larder. Less than half a mile up the gulch she came toa halt. Above her, upon a shelving crag she saw a large buck deer standing in bold relief, gazing down at her as if surprised to see a lone human in this dismal spot. Quickly she raised her rifle and took aim, but, before she could fire, there came to her hearing the almost simultaneous reports of two other rifles, and she saw the buck lunge forward from the ledge, and come plunging downward into the gulch. At the same instant two men stepped into view from previous concealment in a clump of shrubbery near where the girl was standing, uttering loud laughs as the buck fell a crushed and bleeding masa in front of them, upon the gulch bottom. “Scuse us, young feller,” one said, with a chuckle, ‘‘ but we allowed you couldn’t hit ther buck, an’ so we got in ahead o’ you.” ‘*My heyes, Bob—thet ain’t no feller,” the other hunter allowed, with an insolent stare. ** Jest luk at thet figger will ye? It’s a gal, in briches!” * Although brave to a fault, the old hunch- back’s companion felt an instinctive dread of the two men, but she resolved to put on a bold front and not let them know she had any fear of them, whatever. ‘‘Yes—a gal in breeches!” she cried, inde- pee ‘an’ one who can take care of num- r one, every day in a week, too! Are you going to divide up that ’ar deer with me?” ‘«Thet depends on circumstances, my purty,” the eldest replied, advancing a few paces. ‘‘Ef ye don’t mind givin’ us a smack apiece from» your purty mouth, I allow we’ll dress ther buck an’ carry the two best quarters hum for you.” “Tf you come any nearer, ’llgive ye a smack in the jaw with the butt of my rifle, you big loafer,” the girl cried, sharply, holding that in- strument ready for use. ‘‘ You'll find you’ve picked up the wrong ’possum to grant sech little favors. And the sooner you set to work and skin that buck, the less likely my fingers will accidently pull the trigger of my rifle, the re- sult of which would be death to both of you. Oh! I’ve got the drop, so go to work, as I or- dered.” The two roughs gazed at each other in aston- ishment. The idea of their being forced to bow to the will of this chit of a giil was mtery! prepos- terous and amusing, and they laughed outright. Nevertheless, there was no disputing the fact that she had the drop on them, and there was a certain composure in the expression of her erat face, and a gleam in her eyes the spoke etter than words that she meant business. Both men were burly, brawny fellows, and looked able to handle a dozen like their girl captor, single-handed, which made the situation extremely novel. The elder of the twain wasa man of about forty years, and wore a heavy black beard that swept nearly to his belt, and black hair to match, pn him, together with his semi- Jexican dress and plumed sombrero a_ most brigandish-looking person. He was armed with a rifle and a pair of revolvers. His companion was about thirty, wore a heavy black mustache, and was dressed in the same style. ‘* Well, cuss my boots!” the elder ruffian cried, taking another survey of the situation—‘‘ d’ye think, gal, thet a pair of thoroughbreds, like us, is a-goin’ ter knuckle under ter sech a critter as you? y, we’re a couple ov dynamite tor- pedoes, we are, an’ likely ter explode any min- ute, with outraged dignity, an’ blow ye ter atoms. I’m Bloody ill, an’ my companion hyar is Black Bob, ye see!” } ‘“‘ T don’t care for that; if you’re both as black and bloody as the Oid Nick himself, you can’t scare me. I’m full of grit, and when I set out to have my bate I’m bound to have it. So go ahead now, and skin that buck before the last ray of sunlight disappears from the crest of , % yonder peak, or I’m hanged if I don’t start a cemetery right here.” The roughs exchanged glances, and of one ac- cord drew their hunting-knives. ; “‘T reckon we might as well be obligin’ to the young lady, Bill,” Black Bob remarked, “fer thar’s no tellin’ but we may make a mash, So come on, an’ we’ll skin the deer quicker’n light- nin’, They accordingly set briskly to work, and their young captor stood coolly watching them, ready to balk any treacherous design they might have in view. They were aware of the fact,,antl therefore chose the wisest course—that of respectful word and demeanor. “Youre rough on two honest disposed fel- lows, you aire,” Bloody Bill growled. ‘‘ Why, we belong to the dutteah, we do, an’ aire two 0’ the nicest pilgrims in ther mountains.” ‘““When yowre kept muzzled,” was the sar- castic response. ‘‘ Come! you’d better be live- . Thesun is most off the ex ‘“‘ And the hide is all off the deer. Tell us, now, *fore we quarter ’im—what’s yer name, zal?” : “Kit, fer short—Kentucky Kit, fer long, ‘cause | originally sprouted down in old Ken- tuck!” was the reply, ‘an’ ye recollect thar’s sum good nerve an’a few good card-players down in the Blue-grass State. The two men exchanged glances again—this time of a startled nature—and Black Bob said, in an undertone: ‘‘Our game, sure enough. We'll not follow bolaily.” Bloody Bill nodded; then they set to work quartering up the buck. ‘What were those roughs ape § 3 then?” was the thought of Kentucky Kit. ‘1 allow they were planning some mischief. But they’ll have to wake up earlier to get the best of me.” The deer was soon quartered, and then Black Bob turned to her, and doffed bis hat, gallantly. ‘There you are, miss. You’re at liberty ter shoulder what ye want, and trot home. ell naturally, out of pure gallantry, accept what remains. Ha! ha! ha!” “Ah! indeed! But, don’t be so gallant as to overlook my immediate necessities. I want you each to shoulder a quarter and carry it to my camp for me—then I shall have done with ou. ‘“Tll be cussed fer a skunk if we will!” Bloody Bill replied, growing enraged. “And Ill be fricasseed if you don’t you'll never have any appetite for what’s left of that deer!” Kit cried, emphatically. ‘Come, now, TP shoot you as quick as to look at you, if you don’t mind; so shoulder arms and march along!” Of two evils they chose the lesser and the girl guide brought up the rear, with fer rifle ready for use. She could not, of course, foresee the denoue- ment of this adventure, but she was determined to hold the victorious band as long as she could, anyhow. \ hen they arrived at the camp she directed them where to lay the hauuehes, after which she announced: ‘‘ There—I'll excuse you now, and will advise you not to come fooling around me again, for fear you may get hurt, the next time. Go!” and she pointed down the gulch, whence they had come. Witkout a word they obeyed, nor did they balt or speak until they reached the spot where they had left the fore-quarters of the deer. ere they paused, and confronted each other, looking the disgust they felt for themselves. “Well, who’d ’a’ thought it?’ the older ruffian grunted. “For heaven’s sake don’t never let the cat out o’ ¢he bag,” Black Bob replied. ‘* But, we’re in luck all the same!” ‘“* You think it’s really our game? ‘The name Kate was in our instructions you know—Kit and Kate mean the same.” ‘But, whar’s the old ’un?” ‘In the ‘schooner,’ likely.” ‘* Well, in case we’re right, now’s our time fer a picnic, A hundred apiece ain’t picked u along every trail. But et’sa pity about the gal. She’s a mighty marriageable piece, an’ as purty an’ primp as @ goose-quill.” ‘*Pshaw! She’s got too much boss in her fer me! Conscience an’ business don’t jibe, an’ we must do the job up slick an’ clean.” “Tm agreeable ter that, but, how shall we lay fer em? The gal smells a mice already, and she’ll be as wide awake as a mice, too.” ‘‘Oh! we'll wait till morning is purty nigh at hand, an’ they’re fast asleep.” ‘* What then—knife ‘em?’ y! a
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“No, No music on this occasion!” ** How, then, will you work it?” ““Hasy enough. ub a little o’ the combined arsenic and cocculus indicus we use fer traps, on their meat, and they’ll never know what hit em! “Good. We'll have a drink, and then get ready.” They each took a drink from a pocket flask the younger man had; then a fire was built and sufficient of the meat roasted to satisfy their appetites, ‘hey then emptied their flasks of liquor, buckled on their weapons, and laid down tor a nap. ti was a very dark night, and they had no fear of discovery. It was past midnight when they awakened, and without a word crept stealthily away through the darkness on their deadly mission. CHAPTER II. NED HARRIS, By the time they reached the vicinity of the emigrants’ camp, the dawn of another day was not far distant, and the intense.darkness of the night was rapidly lessening—so much so, in fact, that Black Bob uttereda growl, “ A feller is liable to get his head blowed off, by trying the game, now,” he muttered, ‘‘ and I don’t fancy that.” : ““Pshaw! you are wild. Come along; they’re all asleep,” the older ruffian replied, boldly. “ve got the stuff all prepared in a bottle, and all that remains to be done is to rub it well over those parts of the meat they are likely to eat first. Then we can go off and collect our revenue stamps. Ha! ha!—pretty good, that— revenue stamps, eh?’ “The joke be hanged. Id rather have the stamps themselves.” “Then come along and earn them. Look! I can already see the two quarters hung to the limb of a tree near the wagon. Flat, now, and as snaky as possible! If we're discovered—then we must use our tools fer all they’re worth.” Throwing themselves flat upon: their faces, {hey crawled stealthily along toward the limb which supported the two haunches of deer-meat, t being their destination. Worm-fashion they wriggled along, without “0 much as a variation from their course, or a ‘puse, At last without discovery, they reached the tree, and rose to their feet. All was gloomy and silent about the lone voyageurs’ camp, not so moch as a cricket’s chirp being heard to break the monotony. “Thay are all as fast asleep as can be, an’ we could enter the wagon and knife ’em, for that matter,” Bloody Bill said, huskily, ‘‘ but we’ll spare bloodshed, while we may. Draw yer pop-guns, now, and keep a sharp eye out for danger, while { swash the meat.” Black Bob obeyed; then taking a bottle of liquid from his pocket, his confederate poured some of the contents out in his hands, and rubbed it upon the haunches of the deer, con- tinuing this operation until he had exhausted all the deadly poison the flask contained. “There! If they feast on that beefsteak, to- morrow morning, ov rather this morning, they’ll soon make food for the wolves,” he muttered, with a shuddering lauyh. ‘* But, if they don’t-—if they should turn up, again?” ‘“‘Bah! what care we, after we get the rhino fer the job? Her nibs never ‘Il dare squeal, lest she gives herself away, and that’s where we've got you see. Come, lei’s. make fer Placer- town, at once, and get our dues.” “J never care for mine!” the other said, with ‘satire. The sun had climbed well up the horizon the next morning, when Kentucky Kit arose from her pile of blankets within the wagon, and part- ing the curtains, jumped out upon the ground, feeling greatly refreshed from her night’s re- The instant after, however, she uttered an ex- clamation of surprise, for there, in front of the wagon, a horse lay upon the ground, and a young man lay with his head pillowed against ‘the animal’s glossy side. Both were apparently fast asleep, and formed as they ldy there with ‘the early morning sunlight streaming down —— nap a picture well worthy of an artist’s rus Even the span of oxen had drawn up in the vicinity, and gazing upon the scene in ap- parent curiosity. * Well, well, if this don’t beat my time, I’m eff!” Kentucky Kit observed, thrusting ber \ The Black Hills Jezebel. hand in her breeches pocket, and taking a sur- vey of the scene. ‘1 wonder who the pilgrim is? At all events, he’s a darling looker, right from Daisy gulch.” And, in truth, the stranger did present rather a prepossessing appearance, as he lay stretched out upon the ground in a position of natural grace, He was possessed of a symmetrical form, no- ticeable for its prominent muscular develop- ment, and in face was rather handsome of fea- ture, with a prominent mustache, a firm but pleasant mouth, denoting resolution and will and hair long and wavy. His eyes were closed in slumber, so that none of their beauty could be determined. Kentucky Kit, with all a girl’s innate curiosity, stood for several minutes regarding him with an admiring gaze. ‘* He’s just the purtiest feller I’ve seen yet, since comin’ inter the bills,” she observed. ‘ lll bet he’s a reg’lar ‘ masher,’ too, as_they say out East, Anyhow, it wouldn’t take long for him to ‘mash’ me, if he’s as good as he looks. I wonder—” She hesitated, and blushed prettily; then a dare-devil gleam shot into her eyes, and creep- ing forward, she bent over and kissed the sleep- ing man on the lips; then darted back hastily, ealling: “Daddy! daddy! quick—there’s a man in camp!” Her cries were answered by the instant ap- pearance of the queer old delegate’s head through the slit in the canvas, speedily followed by his body, In another instant, he was out upon the ground beside Kit, an almost repulsive-looking dwarf, not over four feet in hight, yet massively proportioned for his size. ‘* Well, what’s the matter?’ he snarled, glar- ing at the sleeper, ‘‘ Who is this chap, child?’ ‘That Ido not know,” Kit replied. ‘‘ Some stranger, probably, ‘who, running upon our camp, concluded to accept its protection in or- der to get a few hours’ sleep.” ‘‘Yeou are a good guesser, young lady,” the stranger said, opening a pair of magnetic black eyes, and rising to a sitting posture, ‘‘ for such is the case, and I hope I have not intruded.” “Tf a friend you are, then welcome you are; if an enemy, you might better have cut off ene wind ere you came here!” the dwarf said, sternly. **Ob! of course he is a friend, daddy,” Ken- tucky Kit declared, her pretty face suffused with blushes, for she now believed the hand- some stranger had only been feigning sleep at the time of her stolen kiss. ‘*‘ You see, we are two lone voyageurs, on our way to Placerville,” she explained, ‘“‘and we stim expect of course to find an enemy lurking behind every bush, in so wild a region.” “Then you can set aside all fears, as far as I am concerned,” was the reply, ‘‘for I am no bugbear to harm those who keep out of my pie. By the way, lam also en route for Placerville, wherever it may be, and, if permissible I will join forces, and your defensive condition will be slightl bettered, thereby.” “You Bien a bold, unwavering eye, young man, and I reckon I can trust you, though you are the first I have placed confidence in, for many a year. What is your name, young man.” ‘‘Ned Harris, free ranger, at your service, uncle; and now, may I in return inquire your name?” “Yes, young man. It’s a proud old name, too, is the name of mine, tho’ terribly sinned against. Girard Athol, was the name I used to bear, and the Athols were one of the finest families in old Kentuck. But o’ late years, since I’ve grown older and uglier, an’ more like a beast than a human, the name of Old Scaven- ger hasbeen given me. My daughter, here, and the only faitheul friend P’ve known, of jate years, is Kate Athol, or Kentucky Kit_as I call her, because she’s a blue grass widow,” and here the little old man shook all over with suppressed laughte: at what he evidently con- sidseed a good joke. i While Kentucky Kit colored, painfully, and said, reprovingly: ‘‘Pather!” “Oh! git out,” Old Scavenger chuckled, “‘ 1 know you've got an eye sot on our friend here, but it ain’t goin’ ter work. You're a straight out-an’-out grass, an’ ye better play yer keerds ruther keerful.” ‘Oh! don’t mind what he says, please,—he’s such a terrible tease!” Kit protested, turning to Harris, half between a laugh and a cry—and from that moment, the young man realized that 5 the young beauty had a secret under all her bright and smiling exterior. ‘“ Make yourself at home, and I will prepare some breakfast.” ‘Not out of that deer-meat, if you eg: Ned warned. ‘That is not exactly healthy.” “Not healthy!” both Kit and Old Scavenger exclaimed in surprise. “Exactly. That meat is poisoned. The two men with whom Miss Kitty had such a remark- able encounter last evening, came back in ths dead of night, and washed both haunches with poison!” Old Scavenger was greatly affected by this intelligence, for he sunk back upon a seat on a log, and his eyes became riveted upon the ground, while his hands clinched, tightly. ‘*T see! I see!” he muttered, huskily. “They were lying in wait, no doubt, when . Kit run upon them. Ah! everything is plain to me, now. I am upon the right trail, and by some unaccountable reason, J am eapected |” His fierce features seemed to grow even more terrible in their expression, and his wild eyes raised and glared at Harris, fiercely. “You saw these men do this?” he asked, “T first overheard their plot, and then saw them fulfillit. They were, I should judge, sent here by some other person, for they spoke of collecting pay.” “Yes, aber. were sent here for another pur- pose than that. which would be Christian,” the old man responded; “they were sent on to ,murder us, Young man, would you care to hear a strange story of a wrong, from the lips of a wretched old wreck of humanity like J am? “Certainly, 1 would, old pard, and if it isin my power to give you any assistance to right that wrong, all you have to do is call on me. ‘“*Thankee, boy—thankee! I see you have the true man about you. Sol will tell you my story. Et ain’ta very purty story, like ye read .in story papers, nor et ain’t never been writ wi? e pledge pen, fer et’s true from life—a bitter 8 “Ye see, I was born of a proud old Kentucky family, noted fer beauty, wealth and accom- plishments, thet go to make up aristocracy, an’ when I came into tke world a little ugly mis- shapen cusfomer, it was a sorry day formy family pride and fer myself. What an eyesore I was to my sisters and brothers I never fully realized till I growed up to the age when £ should have been a man in size; then I began to see how matters stood, and one day I turned up missing; I forever left my home, resolved no longer to be a stumbling-block in the way of my family’s pride. eame into the West, and roamed wild in the forest and mountains among the beasts and red-skins, who never harmed me from a super- stition that I was in kague with the Evil One. Thus years rolled by, until one day, in a lonely mountain gorge I struck gold, and there for two years poi alone and lonely. At last having amassed a large fortune of the shinin’ stuff, I buried it, and went forth into the more civilized regions. There I met a beautiful woman—a scheming adventuress I should say—who on short ac- quaintance professed to admire me, Hat haf fancy a woman loving such a nondescript as I! ‘¢In a weak moment I revealed the secret of my wealth, and from that time on she haunted me ever, until, blinded by her professed ardent devotion, I married her, and we set out for my lonely mountain home. ‘Here, for two years, I think I was happy, for in that time, and up to the last day I ever saw her, she was kind and loving to me, though I often wondered why it was, and suspected it was from a desire to get my gold. Therefore I never revealed its hiding-place to her. ‘ A little one was born to us, the year after our marriage, and God had spared it my de- formity. You see her, there, now, sir, as brave and noble a little girl as there is in the land. But for her, J should have long ere this put an. end to my miserable existence; for her sake I lived on—and for vengeance! “Just two years after our marriage the wo- man came up missing, together with my buried fortune, which she had in some way discovered, when I believed its hiding-place a secret to her. She never returned and I have not seen her since. I did not pursue her, for I had my babe to watch over and protect. But, I swore an oath of vengeance, some day to be fulfilled, and T am on that vengeful mission, now. ‘“‘T remained in the gulch and mined a little, for years. I accumulated more gold, and finally with Kit, I went back to Kentucky, and pat her out to school, while I went. into the in- rior of the State, built me a hut in the moun. be ‘ Sa id aA :
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' man finished. tains, and lived there in utter seclusion. My child came to see me often, and it gave me great satisfaction to see that education and refined associations did not turn her affections from me; she was my pride, my idol and my all in e. * At last, about a year ago, {[ saw that my money was nearly gone, so I told my child the story of her mother, and asked her advice. Her answer came quick and decisive as I felt sure it would, for her spirit was my spirit. She said: ‘Daddy, let’s hunt her down, and make her give back the gold, or enough of it to support you in your old age.’ “ And so we set out for the West, and have been searching ever since. It was about a month ago that I first obtained any trace of her. I went into a photograph gallery, and saw her picture, which I at once recognized, on exhibition in a show-case. ‘That lady? says the artist, in answer to my inquiry—‘ why, that is Madam Cheviot, of Placerville, a little mining burg, up in the hills. Well ‘heeled’ they say, and styles out like a Yo Goin’ to marr Darrel, the bonanza king, too, Pve heard.’ ‘Never!’ I said, under my breath; then I bought the picture, and set out for Placerville, whither. I ama now bound. So there you have the part of my story, Harris, which has come to pass; what the denouement will be I do not know. It only remains for the hand of time to determine that.” CHAPTER III. ’ HARRIS ASSUMES A CHARGE. ““Anp a very interesting little story it is,” Harris responded, lighting a cigar as the old “Were I a novelist or an actor, I should utilize the incidents. The woman probably had got an inkling of your wealth, and only married you, to get possession of it.” “That is all. She deceived me, and I know, now, that she is a crafty, scheming adventuress. And if I am in time, I shall endeavor to prevent her insnaring another victim into ber trap.” “She evidently knows of your coming. _ “She may have had spies on my track since ¥ left Kentucky, or, it is possible that the picture I saw in Cheyenne was but a decoy, and the artist her agent. Since last night’s occur- rences, and that which you have so luckily ex- posed, this morning, I believe that, fearing my coming, she contemplates a hasty marriage with the rich mine-owner. This must not be. While I live, she can never trick other men as she did me. Therefore she must be circum- vented, which necessitates that I should be on the watch and ready. Harris, I believe you are a man of good principles, integrity and honor, and I want to ask a favor of you.” ** Ask it, sir, and I doubt not I shall find it in my al to grant it,” was the reply. ‘Very well. Itis this: I want you to loan me your horse, and as security, take my team and wagon here. I also want you to take sim \ of my daughter, and protect her as you wo a sister, untill return. If I should never return, take her as your ward, until she sees fit tomarry. If I don’t return, or you don’t see me again, institute a search for me, forT shall not be dead, but a prisoner in her power. Will you do this for me, Harris?” ‘With pleasure, my old friend. I am only glad of the chance to espouse the good cause of yourself and daughter, I assure you. What movements shall we make, during your ab- sence?” “Journey on to Placerville, and get some tind of a habitation. If you are beset by tools of the Tigress, use your own ox ety in deal- ing with them. As soon as I see a chance, I will report.” And so it was arranged. Dick was to take charge of Kentucky Kit, and Old Scavenger was to go on to Placerville in advance. After a breakfast on jerked venison and coffee, some of which Dick had in his saddle-bags, Old Athol set forth. “Take good care of my child, Harris,” was his last eo rade as he rode away, “ for she is all that I have in life to worship.” ““Never fear for her safety,” was the reply; then the little old man galloped away around the bend, on his strong-limbed steed, and Harris and his pretty charge were left alone. ‘Oh! I am so fearful some harm will come to him,” the girl said, tears starting into her pretty eyes. ‘‘He has been a dear good father to me, if he is deformed and homely.” — “A homely bud often opens into the sweet- est flower, you know,” Dick suggested. ‘But, ou needn’t have fears for the old gent, for he's far shrewder than he appears. It will be a cloudy day when he gets out of his reckon- ing. ** You like him, then?’ “T like his spirit, and his—daughter! Ha! ha! what an impulsive little kiss that was you gave me, to be sure, and how I enjoyed it!” The girl colored, and turned hastily toward the wagon. “Oh! you are just mean,” she said. ‘ You might know I didn’t mean it. I thought—I thought—I—I—” ** Who did you think it was?” “T—I—oh! I don’t know what. I thought I'd wake you, and see how surprised you’d be; so, don’t let’s talk any more about it.” “All right. Vll forgive you this time, and the next time, too, maybe. Shall we make a start now?” ‘Yes, for J want to get’ to Placerville, if possible, to-day.” “IT don’t think it will be possible. It isa long distance through the mountains yet. Still, it or not be as tar as I anticipate.” he oxen were yoked up and hitched to the wagon—then Kentucky Kit assumed her old position of driver, while Harris walked ahead, rifle in hand. During the forenoon he brought down a young buck deer, and put it aboard the wagon, but that was the only incident to mar the monotony of the journey. At noon they halted about an hour for rest and food, and Harris soon cut a couple of fine steaks from the deer, which Kit roasted in a skillful manner. After an hour’s tarry, they journeyed on again through the winding gulch with its babbling creek, and at sunset, seeing no signs of their destination, made a halt in a place that nature had seemingly fashioned out for a camp- oo n both sides rose mighty ledges hundreds of feet in hight, while the gulch bottom was perfectly level, and carpeted with fresh and tender grass. Flowers bloomed on either hand emitting a soothing fragrance; the creek rgled musically through its little time-worn channel; a bracing breeze laden with forest perfumes blew down from the mountains, and all mature seemed serenely welcoming the close of day. After supper, when the soft haze of ‘gloom was beginning to gather around, Harris lit his ipe—a quaint affair of ancient pattern,—and ay back upon the ground against a grassy mound, watching, bec pprmee the rings of smoke that curled up toward the first stars of evening, which began to mg over the crest of the rocks far above, but in reality watching Kentucky Kit who had procured a little rocking chair from the wagon and seated herself, with 4 book is hand near the light of the night e. But, instead of reading, she was gazing thoughtfully down the gulch toward Placreville —dreamily, as if some pleasant memory was before her mind. “ A penny for your thoughts, Princess Pretty,” Harris said, laughingly, as he nimbly tossed a copper over into her hat, which lay on the ground beside her. ‘‘Wert thou thinking of some noble Romeo, whom thou hast left in far and distant lands? . She broke eut into a peculiar little laugh, at t. ‘Oh, no,” she replied. ‘I abhor Shake- speare, and consequently detest Romeos. Take aman who spends more than half his time be- fore a mirror, and all of his income on dress, and learns to talk love from a dictionary, and you have your Romeo, Bah! I wouldn’t give that ”— and she snapped her thumb, contemptu- ously—“‘ for a car-load of such cattle! Do you know who [ was thinking of?” “‘T haven’t the slightest idea, unless it was of your father.” “No. I was thinking of a man—an awful, awful man, whom I have heard of at nearly every trading-post, aad mining-town this side of the Missouri. Ob he’s a terrible fellow, ac- cording to all report. And who do you suppose I was just comparing him to, in appearance?” ** Well, I don’t know—poor me, perhaps.” ‘Yes, exactly; you!” ** Well, I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment, or not? Who is this terrible in- dividual, may I ask?” “Oh, he’s a brave, fearless, reckless Bedouin of the West, whom people fear and fight, and yet he fears them not. He is handsome, and cour- teous to friends, and willing to be friends to all who deal square and honest. It was in Cheyenne I first heard a young woman telling of him, and I fell in love with him, on the spot, — formed an ideal of him, in my imagina- on. ‘« And I am a duplicate of the idea], eh?” “Rather so, only my awful man gets awfully stern and morose, when crossed, my informant: told me.” ‘““You never saw me mad, yet; I’m a very thundercloud when 1 get mad—thunder, light- ning and all!” Harris laughingly averred. ‘“Well, that’s the way my ideal is, and he’s just to my fancy. Indeed I think I really love im, | just because other people turn against him. ‘But you have not yet disclosed the name of this lucky dog who has been so fortunate as to: inherit your affection, without ever seeing ” “T don’t know what his real name is, but he is called Deadwood Dick!” ‘‘ What! the noted outlaw?” “The same! Outlaw though he is, they say he is ever kind and courteous to unprotected women, and that’s more than you can say of a third of the men of the world at large.” ‘‘Very true. But, you may have formed an erroneous idea of this bolddesperado. It would be silly for a young lady like you to cherish even a single thought of such a wretch as he,” “He ain’t a wretch!” she cried, impetuously,,. ‘‘and you needn’t say he is, for T wouldn't be~ lieve you. I guess I ought to know, whem Calamity Jane told me all about him. She said they were about as good as promised to: get married, when they dissolved, by: mutual consent, and went different ways. Oh! you bet he’s a ‘screamer’ as they say up here in the hills, and the first time I see him I’m oing to get married to him—that is, if he is willing. ‘‘Pshaw! he’s been married half a dozem times already, and always lost bis wife one way or another, shortly after. Take my advice, Miss Kitty, and fight shy of him, and never cast a single foolish thought on him.” ‘““Your advice is all right in its place, Mr. Harris, but it can never change my views in this matter. Do you think we will get to Placerville to-morrow?’ “Tdo. It cannot be over a matter of ten miles away, now.” The conversation changed onto different topics from that on, and finally subsided alto- gether, Kit retiring to the wagon, as Harris had expressed his intention of sleeping literally with one eye open, in anticipation of the return of the prowlers of the previous night. But it was not long ere he was sleeping as” soundly as his pretty ward, as he lay golled in his blanket em the grass. He had walked all day, hence the weariness that put him to sleep. How long. he had slept he knew not, but he finally awoke to consciousness and opened his eyes. The moon’s bright light was streaming down into the gulch, and—Kentucky Kit was kneel- ing by his side, and gazing earnestly into his ace. She started violently, as he opened his eyes, and discovered her. ‘*Forgive me,” she murmured, in a frightened tone—then attempted to arise and escape, but . Harris sat up, and caught her by the wrist. ' “Hold on,” he said, gently. ‘Don’t be afraid. What were you looking at—my beauti- ful phiz?” with a smile. _ “Oh! let me go—please do,” she said, strug- gling to release herself. ‘I—I was only trying to study out if you were not—if you weren’t. Deadwood Dick.” ‘*Oh! that’s it, eh? Then you had a suspicion that I might be the outlaw, eh?” “Yes, sir.” She was trembling like a leaf as she spoke. ‘Then dismiss that belief, my child,” he said, kindly, “‘ and go back to your rest.” ‘‘ JT was so afraid you were him, and would think me bold, I am very glad you are not,” she said, falteringly, and tears were standing in her eyes, when she turned and left. ‘‘The tears belied her words then,” Harris mused, as he gazed after her. “I wonder if she does really love this fellow, of whom I am the counterpart? First [know she will be loving Ned Harris, and that will settle my hash. She is warm and impulsive, like all Southern women, and wouldn’t make a fellow a bad ornament for his humble ten-by-twelve, that is, if a fellow was inclined to annex a Mrs. to his establish- ment, which I am not, or, at least—that is— . well, I should have to think the matter over, a deal.” He had the remainder of the night to meditate: on the subject, for he did not again go to sleep, but what decision he may or may not have: arrived at, we will leave for the future chapters of this romance to develop. Kentucky Kit made her reappearance at day- : i H i f. ™o Wagar yt v
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“- ‘oreak, and there were traces of tears upon her face. But, after bathing that pretty face in the waters of the brook she cored: as fresh and rosy as a peach. A meal was soon prepared and dispatched, interspersed with a ittle de- sultory conversation; then preparations were made to continue the journey, They were about ready to start, when the saw a person approaching on foot over the back trail—and a woman at that! “Oh! let’s wait, and see who it is,” Kit olead eagerly, and they accordingly did wa.., for Harris thought best to humor his new charge as ‘mu 2 as possible. The approaching craft was a short party, and very fat at that—in fact, extraordinarily fat, resembling a hogshead mounted on a pair bf stubby legs, with a round bal! on top as an ornament. And the worst af it.was, this fieshful fairy who was floating’ so gracefully westward ho! ‘wasa negress. The nearer she came the more closely the two inspected her. She certainly was an odd-looking creature, pe- ing so ‘*‘ off” the usual proportions of humanity, with a pair of thick red lips, and big eyes, ~he whites of which rolled about in a decidedly wicked manner. Her head was ornamented with an old-fashioned straw bonnet with a wide front, and her obese figure was incased in a dirty-looking gown not reaching to her feet, which were protected by an enormous pair of shoes. A bit of shawl pinned about her shoulders and a belt around her ample waist completed her costume, except the weapons in her belt, which consisted of a pair of cavalry pistols, a jarge, keen-edged knife, a large razor, and a temahawk, which was nothing more or less than a butcher’s cleaver. With a truly business-like stride, this black wayfarer approached where Harris and Kit were standing, puffing and blowing like a wind- ‘broken horse, and rolling the whites of her eyes, Judicrously. “See hyer, you chil’ren!” she said, halting before them, and unfolding a wood-cut picture of a jolly Dutchman, such as is used by theaters for bulletin-board advertising, ‘‘hab you seen nuffin’ of sech a pussin passing this way?” “T reckon not, aunty,” Harris replied. ‘Ts it some person you’re after?” é “* De good lor’ bress ye, yes. Dat’s my truant husband, Hans Schartzenheimer, dat is—de un- faithful monster. Chile, did you ebber hear tole ob Romeo an’ Julyet? Well, sah! if you lub dat romance, you will at least pity me, for lam a Julyet, widout my Romeo. 6 met in de dead ob night, an’ war j’ined by de parson in de ban’s ob wedlock, but when my husband dis- kibbered dat dis maiden was a chile ob de color- ed race, he swore aawful swore, an’ dat’s de last I’ve ebber see’d ob him. Oh! tell me, honey, hab you not see’d my wandering Romeo?” CHAPTER IV. A CASE IN WHICH EYES WERE TRUMPS! ‘‘T HAVE not, beauty!” Harris replied, dryly. ** Why do you come to this wild region to seek him, when probably he is luxuriating in the East?” The negress did not reply, but strode abruptly on up the gulch, 4nd soon disappeared around the first bend. ‘ After she had gone, Harris took off his hat and scratched his head. ‘** Well, what do you think of her?’ Kentucky Kit asked, watching him. ‘I think of all the menageriesI ever saw, that was the most elephantine,” was the reply. ‘<Tf that museum is in Placerville when we ar- rive there, I must cultivate its acquaintance.” “ Wh ? “Because, if that is a genuine negress I’m much mistaken. I fancy the black will wash.” “In that case, why the disguise?” “That remains to be learned. Disguises are utilized for various purposes you are doubtless aware. Come! let’s be moving on.” | He took the lead, with his riflo lying across the hollow of his left arm; Kit mounted the wagon, and drove the oxen. An hour after midday they passed up the main street into the mining town of Placerville —one of the liveliest camps since the palmy days of Deadwood. : It was built in the gulch-bottom which was at this point about a half-mile wide, and com- prised some hundred and fifty shanties and cabins, with three or four better finished and more pretentious residences, The main and only street was built up entire- ly with business places, back’of which on either hand were scattered the habitations, There J 3 , . The Black Hills Jezebel, were three or four of miscellaneous stores, a dozen saloons and dance-halls combined, a blacksmithy, a barn-like edifice designated as a church, and a hotel, where the transient patron- age usually found accommodation. Before this latter Kentucky Kit stopped, and left the oxen to quench their thirst at a water- ing trough, whileshe consulted with Harris. **T will make a few inquiries and learn if there are any empty shanties to be had, he said, “‘ and if there are not, will rent a tent, until we can do better.” He therefore left Kit at the wagon, having little doubt but what she could take care of her- self, and walked up the street for a reconnois- sance, After a few inquiries he learneg of a snug lit- tle shanty, and succeeded in renting it. On his return to communicate the good news to Kit, he passed a respectable looking sbant with a store front, and blinds on the mside. It was evidently an oflice, and tacked to the door was a placard bearing the notice: “WANTED—A CLERK.” Harris paused a few minutes, and deliberated —then entered the place, resolved to make an application for the position. t proved to be a banker or broker’s office, di- vided about the center by along counter,guarded by a stout wire grating from counter to ceiling. There was, nowever, an aperture of consider- able size in the middle, through which business was transacted. A dandily attired young man of graceful fig- ure, and prepossessing countenance, wearing a model blonde mustache, stood before the aper- ture, as Harris entered, conversing with an el- derly gentleman behind the counter, who was dressed in black broadcloth, with an immaculate collar, white tie, and glossy shirt front, a sterf- faced, unbearded party, whose face was not the most handsome with its plenitude of furrows and wrinkles, and whose hair was as white as a drift of prairie snow. “No, Mr. Randall, [ don’t think you will an- swer my purpose,” the elderly gentleman was saying. ‘Young men who pass the night as late as two A. M., in gambling and drinking, are in m;~ opinion scarcely fitted for my service.” “JT am sorry such a terribly eae rumor should have reached you,” Randall replied, ‘‘and it seems to me that Madame Cheviot’s recommendation ought to bear weight with you in my behalf.” ‘* But it does not, a pin’s worth. Were J enam- ored of the moneyed madam, it might, but as I am not, I must needs refer you to my neighbor banker. Be kind enough to allow the other gentleman your position. Randall stepped back, and gave a scowl at Harris, who assumed his position. “Do you apply for the position, sir?” the broker asked, surveying the man well. “‘T came in for that purpose, yes.” ‘* What is your name!” ** Bdward Harris.” ‘* A stranger here?” “‘Just arrived, not an hour ago.” ‘What business have you fojllowed?” ‘* My life has been a roving one, principally, but I am versed somewhat in ’most every- thing.” **Can you write short-hand?” * Quite readily.” ‘*Can you send and receive messages by tele- graph ” ‘*T can, though not as rapidly as some.” “Fast operators often make mistakes. Are you familiar with the mining business and mines of the West?” “‘T have visited nearly every mining district of importance, and have some ideas of my own concerning them.” ‘**Good! Can you keep books?” “IT can,” “Well, sir, my clerk must necessarily be able to do my business as though I were here to dictate to him, I am often absent, and I want a man who can be trusted ae exit as he often has the handling of a small mint of money. Iam favorably impressed with you, but shall have to deliberate before engaging you. Now for in- stance, if I were absent, and a chance were tendered you to purchase stocks in the Thunder- bolt mine, at Custer, what would yc. nay?” ‘Not a cent. There is no such mine as the Thunderbolt, at least no such incorporated com- any. ‘ The broker smiled. ** Are you sure?” : 2 ‘* Quite sure, unless it has sprung into exist- ence within a few days.” t ‘Well, you are right, That was a little tester I gave you, you see, How about the ut- tle Pittsburg, at Leadville? worth to you?” . “Tf I were going to purchase, I should not feel safe to pay over thirty-five cents on a dollar, or less.” “You have excellent judgment, I see. about the Rocket, at Oro City?’ ‘* At par value, every day in a week, and scarce at that.” ‘True. How comes it you are so well posted, Mr. Harris?” ; ‘*My brain, eyes and ears were given to me to use, and I always exercise the trio in conjunction, never trusting the decision of the one without the assent of the other.” ‘* A happy notion for a shrewd man to have. Well, sir, call around this evening. My daughter, who is a keen reader of human nature and character, will be here, and if she approves of you, then you can begin duties to-morrow, ata salary of five thousand a year.” ‘Thank you,” Harris said, modestly. Then he left the office, and returned to where he had left Kentucky Kit. “T admire your choice, Mr. Raymond,” Randall sneered, after Harris was gone, “I trust for the good of your finances, that Miss Milly will see differently.” ‘What do you mean, sir?” “T mean that I believe that man to be a skilled scoundrel, and hope to be able to prove it to you, before he succeeds in causing your financial ruin.” How After apprising Kit of his luck in securing a house, Harris also told her of his probable good fortune. Then the wagon was driven around to the shanty, and the oxen turned loose to gra while Harris unloaded such furniture oa furnishings as the wagon contained, and moved et ae the new abode, where Kitty set them 0 rights, She soon had the place looking cheery and homelike, and everything neat and tidy. “This will be your room,” she said, pointing to a cosey little bedroom. ‘‘ Mine is the next one, and I sha’n’t be a bit afraid, nights, ifl know my governor is in,the next room. ‘* Would you be afraid to remain alone, kere, nights?” Harris asked, doubtingly. “Indeed I would, ‘Why ha ‘Nothing; only I was just thinking that it yond be more proper for me to go to a hotel, nights. “Oh! no! no! no! I wouldn’t stay here alone for the world. bi won’t pay any attention to us, or if they do, | am sure they needn’t know what relation we bear to each other—they won’t know but what we are brother and sister —or, still better, man and wife. Whata joke that would be!” Harris’s spirit fairly groaned within him. Man and wife, indeed! Things were i mune to assume altogether a different aspect f had assumed his charge. Were he to take up his home at the shanty, he felt sure gossip would not be long in linki his name with his pretty orvtohanette an unefi- viable light, which mi hit be the means of caus- ing difficulty with the broker, and other trouble, all around. Yet he had ——— to protect and care for the girl, and he resolved to do it, though be should stand in momentary dread of the results of his remaining under the same roof with her. ‘There were several things that he was quite sure of, He was satisfied that she liked him because he was her ideal of this man Deadwood Dick, whom she had never seen—be knew that she was warm, and impulsive by nature and thought no harm in expressing her likes and dislikes. He was also equally positive that she was good, and innocent, and therefore calcula- ted no possible harm in his remaining under the same roof with her. After supper that evening he paid another visit to the broker's office, as had been re quested. The broker was seated before the counter,. this time, in company with a young lady, whom he introduced as his daughter, Miss Mil- licent Raymond, on Harris’s entrance. ‘‘ This is the young gentleman I was speaking of, dear,” the broker said, smilingly; ‘so give me your estimate of him.” ‘ The young lady composedly turned a pair of magnetic black eyes upon Harris, in a steady | stare, which he as composedly returned, For several minutes neither spoke or moved; then the features of the broker’s daughter grew What’s her stocks rom what they had when he
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‘ attempt any warfare against me. a trifle set and rigid, and a faint rift of pallor over her face. Harris turned to the broker, with a laugh: “Well, has your daughter drawn her conclu- sions yet?” he asked. ‘ Ii’s mighty uncomforta- ble, this being stared at, so.” “ Milly, dear, what ails you?’ Mr. Raymond demanded, taking her by the arm. ‘ You act strange.” There was no answer. white upon her chair. “ My God, what’s the matter—she has faint- ed,” the broker cried, excitedly. ‘No, stand back and I will bring her to!” Harris said, advancing. He waved his hand above his head, several times, and in front of her face—then retired to a seat, as she gasped, and the color came back to her cheeks. “You see, I unthinkingly returned Miss Ray- mond’s stare,” Harris explained, and she being sensitive to magnetic influence she unconscious- iy passed into a semi-trance condition. I think if you question her now she will answer, and in my favor, I trust.” *“* How is it, Milly dear? What do you think of Mr. Harris?” ; ‘¢ He will answer your purpose well,” was the soa 13 gaspingly. ‘Papa, [ want to go home.” ‘She will naturally feel dizzy for a short time,” Harris explained, in answer to the brok- er’s anxious look. ‘‘I will leave you, now. Shall I call to-morrow?” ‘* At eight o’clock. I will give you a fair trial. Good-evening.” goed evening,” and Harris bowed himself out. : “Treacherous work here,” he muttered, as he walked along. ‘‘She’d have gone flat against me, if Thadn’t put a stop to it—and not of her own accord, either, Some one put her up to it, but who? Ha! I think I suspect the party.” He met her early the next morning on his way to the office. She was mounted upona pretty little Indian pony, taking a ride, but the moment their eyes met he gave a little motion of his hand, and she rode up to him and drew rein. ‘“‘What infernal power is this you hold over me, sir, that I must come or go at your beck and nod?” she demanded, trembling in every musele. ‘ ‘It is the power of my eyes, which you dared to brave, last evening—the power of mesmerism, which makes you forever the subject to my will. Do you see?’ ‘Oh! Heaven help me, then. Why did you do this?” j *« Because I saw that you were going to influ- ence your father against me, and not of your own accord, either. Some one put you up to exert, your influence against me: tell me who it was? “ = cannot—will not!” she cried, endeavoring to exert a will of her own, ‘ You have no right to ask me,” ‘You are wrong. I have the right to ask, and the power to know. ‘You will tell me—you dare not refuse me!” She looked at him a moment, an expression of horror entering her dark orbs, and a shiver of terror flitting over her person. ‘“* After all it would be no more than right for me to tell you, and it was unwomanly for me to enlist against you. It was Ralph Randall who putmeon” . Harris nodded: “TI thought as much,” he said. ‘ This Ran- dall is your lover? ‘ : “'Y-e-s,” falteringly. ‘“ What was his object?’ “To procure your dismissal from my father’s employ, so that he might stand more of a chance to fill the position. Iwas to declare you to be Deadwood Dick, the outlaw, he knowing that my father would believe it, as he has implicit faith in my judgment.” Had a bomb exploded at Marris’s feet, he could not have been more astonished, but he sueceed- ed in concealing his surprise from ber notice. “So, that’s his is forearmed, and Millicent sat rigid and shall look out for your pyre- cious lover, and in the meantime, Inowing my | power over you, it will be best for you not to ‘But you won't harm Mr. Randail—oh! say that you won't?” . ‘‘ That depends on how he cenducts himself,” Harris responded, bowing and walking on te- ward the office. CHAPTER V. : ROGUES IN CLOVER, ¥iez first day as broker’s clerk passed very busily, between learning the business, and some ' is tres me, eh? Well, forewarned : - o SPTX > Black Th writing Ned Harris was given todo. He also became acquainted with a number of the towns- people, and overheard some things that were advantageous. The general topic of conversation seemed to center upon the approaching marriage of the wealthy speculator of the town, Honorable George Darrel, and Madame Cheviot, who was also wealthy. The combined properties of the two were very extensive, and it was claimed that their union would throw under one control the principal part of the real estate in and about Placerville, including buildings and mining in- terests. This marriage was to take place on the mor- row, it was announced, at the madame’s resi- dence, and all the townspeople bad been ex- tended an open invitation to be present, in honor to the occasion. : The up ermost thought in Harris’s mind was: would Old Scavenger be there to prevent the consummation of the rites? Not a mention of the dwarf’s presence in the town had Harris heard, and he wondered there- at. Was the old fellow waiting until the proper hour should arrive for him to raise a breeze ‘nu camp? It looked that way. During the day Harris got a glimpse of the prospective bridegroom. ‘ He was a well-preserved looking person of forty years, with a noble, dignified bearing, and would have been pronounced a kind-hearted, easy-going fellow by the casual observer. Yet there was a firmness about the expression of his features that betokened a will of iron. Of Madame Cheviot, Harris had not as yet been able to get a glimpse, and therefore could form no estimate of her. » As soon as the office duties were over, he went direct to the shanty, where Kentucky Kit already had the table spread, prepared for the evening repast. “Well, how has the day passed, here?’ he asked pleasantly. ‘‘ I suppose you have enough to keep you busy.” “ Hardly,” she replied, with a faint «mile. Mee! thoughts were about all the company I ad. He did not need or care to ask her oc whom those thoughts were, for he fancied he knew what the answer would be. She had been thinking of Deadwood Dick. ‘*Oh! I had nearly forgotten it. There is a letter on the mantle for you. Some one slipped it in under the door, and was off before I could discover who it was,” she added. He arose and took the letter from the shelf, and seated himself by the table, surprise mani- fest upon his countenance. ‘*T don’t know who this can be from,” he said, noting that there were no directions upon the envelope. ‘ Probably it is from your father, and for you to open.’ She received it with some reluctance. “Thadn’t thought of that; maybe it is from him,” she said, though there was doubt ex- pressed in her tone. She tore open the envelope and glanced at the missive—then dropped it with a scream. “What is the matter?’ Harris cried, pieking it up. He had the answer before him, however. A sheet of paper headed by the ominous ensign of a skull and crossbones, read as follows: “Deapwoop Dick: It is known that you are here, © where secret foes are thick and strong against rc: Take the chance afforded and escape, or you will be stricken down when you least expect it. This is not gas, but fact. So digest it. ‘SuRE Dzatu.’ ” r Lills Jezebel. About the same hour that the strange warning brought great surprise to Harris, Madame Cheviot sat in the parlor of her residence, sipping a glaas of wine, while she watched the glow of the lamplight upon the earpet. The madame was a well-preserved woman of considerable beauty of face and figure, and | phat with the aid of paint, powder and dress, and other youth-producing devices of women’s hand, one would have little dreamed that che was in the forties. Hex attire was fashionable and elegant, and she wore costly jewelry to the enhancement ; om hee oe appearanee. d just finished tho wine, when fhe door opened, and a penderoustooking Dutchman made bis ap “we. “O? you blease, my lady,” he sald, ‘dere is two fellors mit der front door eud, ash vants to see der madame, und tole mo uff Ino let ’em in dey preak der hole top off my jaw off.”. “Sans, you are tncorrigible. Did they give their names?” ALS OF Bak PIN TBR Sy WE ‘ ts “Vas, I dink so. Von off ’em he told me ash how he vas Ploodcy Pill, und der odder one sed he vas Black Bob, an’ vot he swallered yoost sech vellers like mineself for preekvost, effery night dimes.” “*Pshaw! they were only poking fun at you, Hans. Show them in. They are a couple of rough but honest fellows, qeubinn I hired to do some work for me.” ° Hans accordingly went out, and a few minutes later ushered in two ruffians whom Kentucky Kit had held at bay, up the gulch. “Be seated, gentlemen,” the madame said, courteously. ‘* Hans, you may retire.” When alone with her two visitors, however, the madame’s appearance underwent a change. ‘Well?’ she interrogated, sternly, “‘ what do you want, here?” * Filthy lucre, mum—rags—rhino—scrip, you see,” Bloody Bill said, with a significant grin. ‘* Exactly! we want inflation!” Black Bob chimed in. .“ What for, pray? Did I not tell you that you’d get your reward only when your work was accomplished?” ‘“‘Kerect, mum, an’ so we bein’ in need of finances made a quick job of it,” Bill assured, rubbing his hands together, greedily. “But I know better, you perceive,” the madame cried, angrily. ‘‘'the girl, in company with a longed-haired sport, came Here to Placer- ville, yesterday, and is keeping house, over in old Ben Magin’s shanty. How do you account for this?” “Dunno, mum. We p’izened ’em both—she an’ the old man, jest as sure as preechin’, an’ left "em deader’n wrought-iron door-nails, for crow fodder,” ‘You lie, sir! I seriously doubt if you even made an attempt. And, now, you come bere, pp pay for a job you did not complete, eh? ‘‘ Hegsactly, mum,” Bloody Bill replied, with a sort of leer. ‘‘ Ye can have it your way, ef ye like, but you must cash up!” , ‘*But 1 won’t! Not acent will I pay you, till you accomplish your work!” the madame de- clared, fiercely. ‘‘ You can play none of your tricks on me.’ “ Ef ye don’t hand over the sand, mum, we'll cut yer precious weazand. Oh! we’re handy at sech tricks, you bet. Ha! ba!” ‘* Still better’n that, we'll report about town as how the madame hired us to pat her husband out of the way,so she could marry Darrel, but we gota religious streak an’ wouldn't tackle the job,” Black Bob said, with a grin. “J wonder bow’d that work, pard iid “T allow et’s bad—it’s boss,” the elder ruffian chuckled. ‘So ye needn’t settle up, mum. We'd jest as leave let the ‘count rua, an’ Graw interest.” Madame paled at this, and put up her hands, imploringly. “No! no! vously. ‘‘That would ruin me. will pay you, though you did not do as you agreed, rather than have you create a disturbance.” She took a purse from her pocket, and from it extracted a roll of bills. She counted out two hundred dollars, and gave half to each of the ruffians. ou mustn’t do that,” she cried, ner- ““Thankee,” Bloody Bill sgid, with a trium- phant leer. ‘Ye see we wouldn’t ask it, only we be two poor but henest, hard-working citi- zens, who depend on the public to some extent fer script. is will do very well for the pres- ent, an’ when we want more, we sba’n’t. be backward about callin’ fer it.” “More! do you expect Iam a fountain from whieh you ean draw wealth, at your will?” the madame cried, in a passion. “Yes, mum,” Black Bob replied, with a hor- rible leer. ‘‘ We’ve got a geld-mine opered, in you, mum, an’ we’re goin’ ter work it, too, you bet! When we say ‘cash’, either you smilingly say yes, or we let’s the kiftem out 0’ the pillow- case, Ha! ha! It’ the giddy layout we have.” Then, laughing, vVvillainously, they arose amd mockingly bowed themselves out. ‘When they were gone, Madame Cheviot rung a bell, amd Ralph Randall eatered the parler and took a seat near at band. ‘“Well, what have you learned?” the madame asked. ‘Nothing, lady. I have made a most carefal inquiry, but have not sueceeded in hearing any tidings of the dwarf. I doubt if he has yet been near the town.” ‘Good. If there is no interruption, = 8 marriage with Darrel will be successful. you think the girl will make any trouble?” ‘* Not unlese put tp to it by the fellow, r whom I believe to be none other than the out-
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1 TE. d%, ee PS "" ‘ A > law, Deadwood Dick. Ihave sprung the warn- ing on him, that you suggested, and if that does not work, we shal] have to adopt some other tactics.” “Td rather have a dozen ordinary sleuth- hounds here, than that one man,” the madame said, slowly. ‘‘f have heard enough of him to cause me to fear him. If he is working in Girard Athol’s interests, as I suspect, he is a formidable foe. On the following morning the nuptials were to be consummated, and the town was on the qui vive. Madame Cheviot’s mansion Was faced in front by a pleasant little grove of maples, un- derneath whose wide-spreading branches seats and tables had been arranged, whereat a feast was tobe served to the inhabitants, in com- memoration of the marriage of the two wealth- iest people in Placerville. The miners and their families had as a people never thought too well of either the madame or her affianced, and this little dodge of a feast had been arranged more to secure the lacking good will, than anything else. A sort of vine-wreath platform had also been built, whereon the ceremony was to take place, and a dancing floor had been laid for the accom- modation of would-be terpsichorean revelers while enterprising venders had been permitted to erect temporary booths on the grounds, for the sale of ‘‘ refreshments”—a very necessary accessory. And, taken all in all, it had the promise of a the greatest event in the annals of Placer- ville. By general consent the miners decided to make a holiday of the occasion, and at an early hour the grove presented a festive appearance. Miners arrayed in clean red shirts and Sunday- go-to-meetin’ breeches were there —some alone, some in company with ‘their girls,” and some with their wives and children. No slouch of a place was Placerville, if she was a backwoods mining-camp, for she possessed what none of her sister burgs could boast—a brass band, and this was at the grove, discours- ing popular music, by the time the sun’s red face arose from behind the eastern hills. Harris was up early that morning, but early as he was, Kentucky Kit was up ahead of him, and had breakfast under way. To his surprise he found her now attired in a neat-fitting dress of her own sex, which gave her a more womanly appearance. “Why this transformation?” he queried. “« Are you going to the wedding, to-day?” A dark expression flitted into her eyes. “Yes, I am going to see this faithless woman who I must with shame realize is my mother!” she said, bitterly. ‘‘ Will you accompany me?” ‘““T would, willingly, but am afraid it will be impossible for me ro ate excused from my duties. Will it not be risky for you to go out alone?” r “Bah, no! I am not afraid; and, moreover, ITamarmed. If they attempt to harm Ken: tucky Kit, they’ll find she knows how to handle weapons as well as themselves. Do I look afraid?” ‘ ‘*No, nor are you puerta hl for I saw you mas- ter the two roughs, up in the gulch. But, keep an eye out for toner for I fancy the woman ay be expecting trouble, and be prepared for it. Harris went away to the office, not feeling just right about Kentucky Kit’s proposed ven- ture. But the girl had plenty of confidence. Clear- ing away the dishes, she donned a light cloak and hat, and vailed the upper pertion of her face, after which she set out for the grounds, with a pair of trusty revolvers in a belt in un- der her cloak. \ t The band was playing a lively air as she en- tered beneath the cool shade the overhang- ing boughs, and the crowd was engaged in various sports, bent on having a good time. In one place a large party were dancimg; in an- ether games of quoits and hall were in progress, while in still another, several marksmen were engaged in target practice. The eeremony was announced te take place at-ten o’clock, and promptly at that hour the bridal party appeared upon the platform where the rites were to be performed. This eaused s hearty cheer from tho assembled people. There were five im the party—the bride and groom, both elaborately attired; the bride- taaid, the madame’s sixteen-year-old daughter, and the groomsman, Ralph Randall, and the minister, a seedy but benign locking chap, with a revolver in his belt, and the mud of the mines on his boots. After a wedding march by the band, all varties arose, and the ceremony began. A per- ect silence reigned throughout the grove; each person stood with heads craned forward, to catch the every word. ' The minister had got as far as to ask if any person had aught to say why the marriage should not take place, when a wild shout was heard; then a horseman came dashing’furiously into the grove, and up to the marriage stand, The man was—Old Scavenger! CHAPTER VI. A BROKEN MATCH. Iv was a moment of moments! Every one was excited, as the misshapen little old man dashed into the grove, and jerked his spirited steed back upon its haunches, right in front of the wedding stand. Madame Cheviot had grown deathly white, and leaned upon Mr. Darrel for support, her eyes glaring at the dwarf with incarnate fury in their expression. “Stop! stop!” Old Scavenger yelled, raising his hand. ‘‘In the name of the law and Almighty God, I forbid the banns. That woman is my wife!” A murmur of astonishment ran through the crowd. It seemed to sting the madame to madness, for she rallied, walked to the front of the plat- form, whiter, yet more composed than before. ‘Tis false! ’tis false!” she cried. ‘‘I appeal to you all, ladies and gentlemen, to bear wit- ness, and hear me swear it is false. This non- descript is my brother, and, worst of all, a madman, who has recently escaped from the spf bein’ where I placed him; his terrible charge is but amove of revenge. Fortunately I have anticipated his coming, and prepared for him. Constable, the rest is for you to do!” At this, a burly six-footer sprung forward to secure the intruder, aided by four able-bodied specials. Old Scavenger comprehended the situation, and drawing a long, keen-bladed knife, he slip- ped out of the saddle, and with one blow stabbed the constable to the heart. Then, seemingly gone staxk mad with rage, he cleaved desperately right and left, without regard as to whom he hit, in defending him- self, ‘ And it was only after a bloody struggle that he was conquéred by overpowering numbers, and bound hand and foot and ered: In the struggle five able-bodied men had bit the dust, and as many more had been mere or less dangerously wounded. The little old man trembled like a leaf in the excess of his rage, when held powerless in the grasp of two rough-looking miners, and his eyes were a horrible thing to gaze at, so terrible was their glitter. The madame had witnessed the struggle with an awful composure, and when she saw the dwarf secured at last, a faint gleam of pleasure rippled over her marble-like face. “Remove my poor brother to my private par- lor,” she said, addressing one of the men who had him in charge, “and guard him faithfully till I come. I will have him taken back to the asylum by to-morrow’s coach.” he two men accordingly carried the pris- oner between them into the madame’s resi- dence; then she ordered: “Remove those who have been killed, and let the ceremony proceed, as if no unpleasantness had happened.” “Stop! this marriage shall nob proceed!” a ringing voice cried, and Kentucky Kit pushed forward, her face stern, her eyes flashing with indignation and anger. ‘‘ Madame Cheviot, as you call yourself, do you know who I am?” ‘No! no!” the woman gasped, reeling back and covering her faco with her hands. ‘‘ My God! what—who are you, and what do you want?” “Pam your only legal ehdd—the daughter of yourself and your only lewful husband, Girard Athol, where your damnable lie has made a prisoner. We came not here to do you harm, woman—we came to recover the gold you sicle when you left your husband and little babe, hover severteen years ago. But, if you want war, you ean have it, Set my father at lib- erty. or I will shoot you where you stand!” ‘TNever!” the madame eried. ‘“ George,” turning to tha bomanza king, ‘I look to you for protection |” “But look in vain!” Kit cried. dared the vengeaneco of your ehild, faithless | mother, and you shall have it.” ‘band. “Yom have | + ~ a We) P : , <? ti be And, drawing a revolver from under her cloak, she fired ful) at the would-be-bride, and paired awaiting to note the effect, turned and ed. The crowd made no attempt to stop her—it was a period of indecision when they knew not which way to side. Consequently Kit made good her escape. The madame had been wounded, slightly in the arm, but a great control of nerve caused her to not betray the fact. “Arrest that vagrant!” she cried, ‘ But first, let the ceremony go on!” “ Are you willing, Mr. Darrel,” the minister asked, turning to the bonanza king. “Tam not,” was the answer. ‘* Until the cir- cumstances of this morning are fully explained to my satisfaction, I must politely but firmly refuse to consummate the wedding. Let the assembly disperse. Madame, I will escort you to the mansion!” A cheer went up from the crowd. It was evident the pr had the sympa- thy of the majority of the spectators, who re- gretfully began to leave the grounds. é Darrel escorted the lady to the house, followed by Randall and the woman’s daughter, and all four entered the grand parlor, where madame and Randall made every attempt possible to ex- plain matters, but without success, The bonanza king firmly declared he would not proceed further in the matter, until he had proof that the dwarf was not the lady’s hus-’ band or until the dwarf was dead. He then took his departure, after which Madame Cheviot dismissed her daughter, and turned upon Randall, the fury of an enraged © tigress in her face. “All is lost, Curses ‘* Foiled!” she hissed. take that devil’s imp!” “Tt is indeed bad; but I do not think that all is fey as yousay. The marriage yet may come OIL, “How? Explain yourself. Nothing but de- feat yet has met my schemes.” “True; but that does not signify. Darrel said when you could prove that the dwarf is not your husband, or when he was dead, he’d marry ou. “But I cannot prove that he is not my hus- He has a certificate of our marriage, and is too wily to have it where it could secured.” . “But, you forget. Death would open the read for you. Supposing he were to pass in his’ checks?—then you could marry Darrel. You. have him in’ your power. Lock him in a room—dead. Go to Darrel, and ask him to visit the dwarf and question him. He goes to the roar and finds the dwarf lying dead upon the floor, with a bloody knife by his_ sidc. While he is taking in the situation,we and some other persons pounce in upon bim, and_ discover him in the act of removing his rival forever from his path. See? Capital dramatic situa- tion! Darrel finds himself in a very embarras- sing position, with only two chances open to him—one, to Sn you and have matters hushed—the other, to walk out and take part in a little neck-tie party. Ha! ha! the chances are he would accept the most favorable escape from his dilemma.” “To him, the most favorable would be death. He has hitherto believed me the most br plary and noble of women, and were I to sp such a trap on him, he’d die rather than bin himself to me in marriage. No! no! that won’t work. We must devise a better scheme. Falph Randall, how long have you been my faithful tool—my trusted confidant and aid in private transactions?” ‘‘ Por nearly five years, madame.” “Correct. You have served me well, And as your reward I promised you I would, on my next marriage day, give you my daughter's hand in marriage, followed by a donation of five thousand dollars, and a thousand a year thereafter, as long as you made her a good hus-, ” “You did, madame.” “ And I will do as I agreed—but you must work for me. First of all, before working, we must plan. For the present, I shall bee thol locked up here, under close guard, until I can devise a suftable plan to rid myself of him, with- out creating suspicion. In the meantime, all remains for you todo. You must put the girl out of the way, and the man Harris. I wilt ave it to your ingenutty how te do it, and when the two jobs are complete, I will place in oa hands a thousand dollars. How do you @ that?’ “@Qood! You have ever been liberal and | good to me, and I have in return served you to
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j | | | 7 . wish to beg 8 your great okra So there is no cause for us to quarrel. I will leave you, now, to take observations necessary for the new work before me. It will not be policy to have the girl ar- rested for the shooting.” “No; that would necessitate a trial, and the defense would call for her father’s testimony, and the result would not be to my advantage in all SM egpae'g No! it’s best that you attack Harris first, and get him quieted; then, if you wish to put the girl out of the way she will have no champion to look after her.” Randall departed on his vile mission, after which the madame removed her wraps and wedding costume, and laid them away in ex- change for her ordinary habiliments. Surveying her white face in the mirror, she turned and left the room. **T told them to take him to my private par- lor,” she murmured, ‘‘ but he must be put in the strong room 1 had prepared, when this house was built. Ha! ha! Girard Athol, I had been expecting you long before this, but, like your own wily self, you came not, until an opportu- nity was afforded to strike me a telling blow. But you shall never strike another!” ; She swept sternly along the hall tothe door of her parlor, her eyes gleaming, wickedly. She opened the door and entered, without lmocking—then, started back, a horrified cry pealing from her lips, What horror was this she witnessed, to thus appall her? Harris did not get a chance to leave the office during the day, but Mr. Raymond came in and related the occurrences at the grove, and con- cluded by adding: ** And, the worst of it is, they do tell me that you, my clerk, are actually living with this girl, in the same shanty, and she without a chaperone. This won’t do, sir. TVll have no erk. bring disgrace upon my business, through any misdeed like that.” ‘Take care how you speak of the young ‘woman, for she is my ward, until ber father is ready to reclaim her, and I will protect her with my life!” Harris returned. ‘I heard the old man’s pitiful story, and when he asked me to take charge of the girl, and care for her like a sister, I agreed to doso, and I shall protect her, with my life. Good-day, sir.” “Stop! old on! What do you mean— where are you going?” “Going to leave your employ, as you said that my services would no longer be desirable, or words of that meaning, if I continued to live with Miss Athol, and that still remains my re- solution.” ‘But, I was hasty, and make all apologies. I cannot affordyto lose you, and therefore I have only myself to blame. Let me hear this whole story, just as you have heard it, and maybe my bi ear won’t come amiss.” ris accordingly sat down, and narrated the story of the Athols, as he had heard it. When he had concluded, the broker scratched his head, reflectively, as he remarked: “Tf the story of this strange pair be true, and I am more than half inclined to believe it is, this woman is a Jezebel, who ought to be chucked into the deepest prospect hole on the slope. I never have taken any fancy to her, and believe her to be both bold and bad.” ‘You're right there, as will be proven, before the matter is concluded. In the meantime, I a few hours’ leave from duty, so that I can investigate the subject of what can be done for Old Scavenger. He is no more crazy than you or I, and he’ll fare mighty slim if allowed to remain long at the madame’s ten- der mercy.” “Very likely, and yet, a tao 3 your interest in him, let me advise you to allow him to re- main where he is for the present.” a7 ** Because, if let loose, and roven sane, the law will nab him for killing onstable Barnes. _ |Then he’d be in a worse fix thanheisnow. The madame dare not kill him, or have him killed, as the job would naturally be laid on her shoulders. I had not ‘Thanks for your valuable advice. thought of that.” So is did not get excused until the regu- lar hour, that night. In addition to buying and selling stocks, Ray- mond did a general banking business, to which Harris had to attend, as he was left alone for hours at atime. He was ee to close the offiee for that day, when a portly bullwhacker walked in, and om a handful of greasy-looking notes down en the counter, and said: | : of PL, a? re ov} Pass Sater ae re The Black Hills Jezebel. ‘*D’ye see them aire scabs, pilgrim—d’ye see them aire porous-plasters?” “*T see them,” Harris replied, counting them over. ‘‘A thousand dollars, I see.” **Perzactly, young feller—prezactly a thou- sand, all greasy an’ glorified by ther fact thet they were earned a-takin’ pelts up on the Pow- der. An’ I want ter deposit’em hyar, fer safe keeping. Mebbe T’ll want ’em again, right away off—mebbe never. Ef I never come back ag’in, take ’em an’ put ’em in yer breeches pocket.” “Very well. Ill put the money in the safe, and you can get it again by calling at any time when I am in.” ‘ ‘But I don’t want it put in the safe. I want ve ter keep it right in yer pocket. Ye see, ’m ilin’ an’ sp’ilin’ fer a fight, an’a fight I’m bound to hev jest to giv’ my blood plenty o’ cir- culation. An’ mebbe the first man I meet will lay me out, an’ then you’ll bea thousand dollars richer. See the p’int? Jest you be stickin’ the money in your pocket.” And then the eccentric individual executed a hop-skip-and-jump in anticipation of a fight with some one,and dodged out as unceremo- niously as he had put in an appearance. According to the directions he had received, Hourts folded up the money and placed it in his et. Little did he think at the time that it was a trap laid to catch him. Soon after he closed the office and started for home, for he was anxious to see Kentucky Kit, and plan with her for Old Scavenger’s release. On his way he met a prominent business man named Wray, who appeared in a great hurry, but who stopped at sight of Harris. - ‘*The blazes!” he uttered. ‘‘Is the bank closed?” “* Just shut up shop, five minutes ago.” “But you must open. I must have a thou- sand dollars at once, or lose five. You’ll do me the favor, eh?” ‘* Am sorry, Mr. Wray, but I received imper- ative orders not to open or transact any busi- ness after five p. M.,” Harris replied. ‘‘How- ever, I think I can fix it. [ happen to have that sum with me, and if you’ll write me out a check, Pll exchange with you.” Glad of the chance, Wray agreed to this, and they stepped into a store, where he filled out a check for the amount, and give it to Harris in exchange for the greasy thousand dollars the cashier had only a few minutes before received of the bullwhacker. ' CHAPTER VIL. RANDALL AND HIS VICTIM. AFTER leaving the merchant Harris stepped into a saloon to get a cigar, and while paying for and lighting jt, he overheard a bit of con- en between two miners, which interested m. “Yes, they say the dwarf has escaped, too,” one of them was saying. ‘‘When the madame went to the house, she went to the room where Kelly and Martin were prpeeee to be guardin’ him, an’ w’at d’ye s’pose she saw? Thar was both Kelly an’ Martin layin’ on the floor, dead, each graspin’ a pistol, which had been fired— and the dwarf was nowhere to be found!” ‘*The deuce you say! He killed ’em, then?” *“That’s what no one knows. It’s a mystery —a bigger one than thar’s been yet to-day, an’ the Lord knows thar’s been enough. Sum thinks the dwarf did it—sum think Kelly an’ Martin got intoa quarrel an’ killed each other— others reckon the madame did it to throw off suspicion, an’ then got rid of the dwarf, while a few reckon the had a hand in it; so that altogether it’s a consarned mixed-up mess at the . The undertakin’ biz is boomin’ now, and I hardly think it will be any worse yet awhile.” Harris went out then, and hurried to the shanty, where he found erty ae sitting at the supper table, waiting for “him, her ex- pression of,countenance not so bright as usual. ‘‘Cheer up, for I bave news for you,” he said. ‘* Your father has escaped!” ‘* Escaped!” she cried, joyously. ‘**Yes! he cannot be found!” Then he related what he had overheard at the cigar store, concerning the double murder, and the theories that were afloat. fraid he has not escaped,” she said, “‘T believe that he “Tam a when he had concluded. may have killed the guards, for he was terribly enraged at the madame’s accusation, which caused his capture. But, I believe she has re- oi me gs him, and imprisoned him in that very ouse. ‘Well, perhaps! Still I am of the opinion eas that he has escaped. At least, let us hope so, until ,we have better reason to believe other- wise.’ Then they talked over the situation at length, but the best they could make of it was not any too favorable. Each was weighed down by a premonition of approaching troutle, greater than had yet been seen. ‘Uae That night was a dark one—so dark that the lights about the town gleamed like little stars, and buildings could only be distinguished on close approach, The sky was overcast with one monster, inky mass of clouds, and a storm was threatened in the detonating, weird pounding of thunder along the horizon. Still, despite the darkness, a woman stood be- neath the shadows of the grove near Madame Cheviot’s mansion, evidently waiting for some one, and with impatience, too, for she occasion- ally stamped her foot, angrily. Fully balf an hour she waited, and was about to leave the grove, when a footstep was heard, and a voice called, softly: “Milly! Milly !” e‘“ Here, Ralph!” was the ae , and a moment later Ralph Randall and Millicent Raymond stood face to face. “You sent for me?” he said, inquiringly. ‘* What is the matter?” “Yes, I sent for you,” she said, in a stern voice; ‘‘and you know what the matter is. When are you going to marry me?” ** As soon as [ can obtain a position, so that I can support a wife.” ‘‘Bah! that story is getting old, and don’t satisfy me, any longer. ‘‘ You must marry me now, or within a very few days; and, more than that, we must leave this place. You have put me off until it can go no longer. And, more than that, I hear from an authentic source that you have lately been paying devoted at- tention to Madame Cheviot’s daughter —or rather, ber illegal child, according to to-day’s showing. Ralph Randall, what do you mean? Have you no hopes of Heaven, or do you want to drive me on to desperation, until I murder you? ‘Well, no. As to the Cheviot, P've only been ying her courtesies for the sake of winning the favor of her dear ma, in hopes that the dear ma’s influence might get mea job—that’s all My love for you is as firm as ever. Come here and sit down, Milly,” and he led her to a bench and they became seated. ‘‘I will now tell you what is what in this question of our marriage I will or will not marry you; it depends accord ing to which way you decide in the matter I am about to explain to you. That man Harris, | hate and despise, and, when he is dead, I shal} not only be richer in cash, but my hatred shall know satisfaction. Now listen, and I will un- fold to you a plan!” ~ And while the thunder muttered growlingly along the western horizon, and an occasional rain-drop pattered down among the leaves, overhead, they sat there in the inky darkness, and Randall spoke in a low, rapid tone, while his dupe listened without a word—indeed she was too horrified to speak, uhtil he was through. “And you think I ought _to do this for vou?” she demanded ark ‘** What assurance have I that you will fulfill your promise to me, sir, after my dyeing my soul with sin, to satisfy your will?” “T swear that I will marry you the day that Harris, or Deadwood Dick, is executed, as, with your co-operation, I can easily secure his execu- tion. Then, we will, with our money, turn our ee on this place, and seek a home in the ast. “But, my father; do you think I can thus sin against him, and then go off and leave him?” “Certainly! He can stand the loss without scarcely missing it, and you can bridle any babyis pam pr heen you may have. you have only two choices. On the one hand you have your father, and the inevitable result of a few months to come; on the other hand you have only a few months—possibly a few days, at the furthest, between yourself and a happy life, in some pretty home, with me. It is for you to choose, not I.” There was triumph under all his speech; she felt its keen barb, and shut her teeth together with a snap. ‘“‘T understand you, I think,” she said, in a quiet way, not common to her, with her im- petuous nature and fiery disposition. “ You. think to have me do your work, and yield up to you the money; then you will cast me off on the world for an unsympathizing people to In fact, -
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The Black Hills Tercpal pel at. But, there you reckon wrongly. Though am only a poor weak girl, desperation nerves me with the strength and determination of a Samson. I will do all that you have outlined to me, but I will keep the money in my own possession until your faith to me is proven be- yond doubt. I will work to promote your schemes, and I will be handy to your side when Harris pays the penalty of our villainy. Then, if you refuse to marry me, I’ll send you to one of the most horrible deaths that my ingenuity can devise. You shall find that Millicent Ray- mondis yet able to right her wrongs, or to kill her betrayer and avenge them.” ‘** Pooh! you talk without reason, for there will be no call for such an act. In fact, when I shall realize that my enemy, Deadwood Dick, is really out of the way, I shall be only too happy to take you as my wife, and quit this country,where honesty is not often deemed the best policy, and where, to succeed, a man must needs be a consummate rascal and cut-throat. So, cheer up, my peerless affianced, and work for our mutual interests, looking forward to a bright future near at hand.” e kissed her, then, and they conversed a few tainutes in an undertone, after which they shook hands and parted, going in different directions. As soon as they had gone, two persons arose from positions upon the ground, near where the plotters had sat, and confronted each other in grim silence for a few moments, as if one was waiting for the other to express his views. Singularly at contrast were these two per- sons, one being the comical-looking Dutchman of Madame Cheviot’s employ, and the other be- ing the fat wench whom Harris and Kentucky Kit had encountered on their way to Placer- e, And it was the Teuton who spoke, and de- stroyed the effect of the sublime tableau. “Vell, vot you t’?ink apoud it, now?” It was the one night of all the nights, that Edward Harris, or Deadwood Dick, was ill at ease, It was just such a warm, threatening night with thunder booming along the horizon, an lightning flashing around the peaks and into the dark, forbidding canyons, that he had all his wild, adventuresome life delighted in, to mount his fiery horse and dash away through the thick- est of the battling elements. He was, in his most natural, wild, reckless humor, ready for any bold or brave act, when the storm grew fierce; he sat by the shanty window, to-night, listening to the first roll of thunder, and watching the fire play zigzag be- fore his gaze—sat there until the air in the room grew oppressive, and his spirit urged him to wander forth into the coming storm, which en- thused him with its own free and turbulent spirit. ’ Kentucky Kit sat with her head pillowed on her arm on the table, fast asleep, and, knowing she would not be lonely while asleep, Dick left the shanty, and closed the door behind him. . At first he had no clear idea of where he should at all he sought was the open air, where he could listen to the full, deep tones of heaven’s artillery and see its vivid flashes—where he could catch the bracing breeze against his heated brow. _ And yet, not heeding the course he was tak- ing, he not long after found himself in the depths of alonely gulch beyond the town, and at a point where three other ches branched off in as many different directions. He had been so busied in Mine tah that by the time he came to a halt opposite the four routes, he was puzzled to know which way he had come. The storm was now beginning to come down, in earnest, too, and, on deliberation, he con- cluded to hunt a sheltering rock till it was over, rather than attempt to find his way back to town. Selecting one of the gulches, which he sup- was the correct route to Placerville, he strode along, looking right and left, until he spied a ledge of rock protruding from the can- yon wall, under which the now pouring rain did not penetrate, and accordingly he was not slow in taking possession. : The storm was soon at its hight, the water descending in torrents, the lightning flashing spitefully, and the thunder causing the earth to tremble. Lighting his pipe, Deadwood Dick sat and en- joyed the wild storm, for it brought back to im, vividly, memories of a past that had not been all sunshine nor all shadow, but a mix- ture of both. . He might have sat there all night, had the rain continued, but it did not, and when it had Spes entirely, he started back for Placer- ville He had to try all of the gulches before he found the right one, and as a consequence, it was late at night ere he arrived back at the shanty. Kentucky Kit was standing in the doorway, when he approached, and she uttered a cry of Joy and ran forward to join bim. ‘Oh, Iam so glad you have come back,” she said. ‘ When I awakened and found that you was gone, I was very much alarmed and wor- ried. Why, you are all wet—where have you been?” ‘**Oh, I’ve been out enjoying the storm,” Dick replied. ‘Did you think I had deserted you?” **Yes. But lam glad you have not. I should be very unhappy if you were to leave me.” “But it is wrong to feel that way, Miss Athol. It is likely your father will be back in due time, to assume your protection, and then I must bid you good-by.” “No, you mustn’t. I have found you out, and I was not wrong, after all. ou are Deadwood Dick; I found the letter that was sent you, signed ‘Sure Death,’—and youare the only man I love or ever can love. So there, now—I have gone and said it, and though it may be unmaidenly, I mean it.” _ Deadwood Dick gave vent to a whistle, denot- ing considerable surprise, a good deal of doubt, and maybe a little vexation. Anyhow, his brows knitted, and he forced a light laugh. “Well, if the cat’s out of the bag, so be it; and I’m much obliged for your candor, but sorry you have been so unwise as to single me out as a choice, from among a world of honest and honored men. Time, however, and a better knowledge of my wild self, will doubtless dis- sipate this little infatuation, and you will learn to regard me only as a friend and acquaint- ance.’ “Never!” she said, firmly; then seeing that he was evidently not desirous of talking on the subject, she said no more, soon bidding him good-night, and retiring to her room. Dick also retired to his apartment, but could not slesp. His mind was troubled with a pre- monition of approaching danger, and whenever he would fall into a slight doze, he would speedily awaken. ‘‘ Something is wrong, somewhere,” he finally said, sitting up on his bed, ‘‘ or I shouldn’t be in this condition. I half suspect that all’s not right at the bank.” he thought grew upon him so that he finally put on his clothing, and quietly leaving the shanty, he hurried toward the broker’s office. “Tt can’t do any harm, anyhow, and I ma be in time to do some good! he muttered. ‘‘Tt’s rarely I pass so restless a night without something pening.” It was the darkest hour before dawn, and he was the only person abroad. Therefore, not desiring to arouse attention to his being out, lest it should create suspicion and make him trouble, he moved along rather stealthily, until he reached the bank. Everything about the place was quiet and there were no signs of anything being out of order, as viewed from the outside. Ithough he had a key, he did not use it to effect an en- trance, for it occurred to him that, should he be discovered in the bank, at this unseasonable hour, it would place him in rather a delicate ition. ‘*All’s well, here, evidently,” he said, as he crossed the street, and retraced his steps in the direction of the shanty, ‘‘ though I shouldn’t be a bit shocked to learn that the d—1 is to pay, in the morning. And, what is more, I sha’n’t be much taken aback if I never succeed in getting out of this place, alive. It must naturally be that my lucky day of escapes is about over. Ha! what in the deuce—!” He had stumbled and nearly fallen over the prostrate form of a man who lay outstretched across the sidewalk! CHAPTER VIII. DEADWOOD DICK IN THE TOILS. His first thought was that he had. run across some drunken miner who had succumbed to the allurements of ‘‘old insane asylum,” as bad whisky is often most Pca 8 termed in the West, but, at a second glance, he was not a little horrified to behold a huge, bowie-knife protruding from the man’s breast; and more- over, the victim of the murder was none other than the same eccentric pilgrim who had a few hours before given Harris his roll of money for safe-keeping. He had come in from over the range, ‘ a-b’il- in’ an’ sp’ilm’ fer fun, and had evidently been wy eo ne 9 meted out a standard Placerville measureful of it : : it. Without thinking of the consequences, Dead- wood Dick stooped over and drew the knife from the wound, muttering: ‘*Poor reckless devil! I was afraid it would come to this when he left the money with me. I saw, then, he was bound to have a time of it!” Just as he was speaking, sounds of the ap- proaching footsteps of two or more persons startled him. What a situation was his to be discovered in! The thought thrilled him with a feeling some- thing akin to alarm, and turning, he pi the knife and fled swiftly and as noiselessly as possible toward the shanty. The footsteps in the rear quickened also, but paused when they came to the form of the mur- dered miner. Then there was a great shout of ‘*Murder! Murder!” in a stentorian voice. “Vm in for it now,” Dick muttered, quicken- ing his steps. ‘‘I wonder why it is lam always getting into trouble like this, when the average of humans peregrinate through a thway strewn with roses? By the way, ill-luck is plen- tiful to-night.” This latter conclusion was drawn after he had passed a woman who was hurrying in an oppo- site direction, and whom he recognized as Mad- ame Cheviot! ; She evidently recognized him, too, for she turned and gazed after him in manifest sur- rise. . Dick gained the shanty at last, and entering locked the door behind him. He then sought his room, and examined his weapons, to find them all in excellent working order. “Tf worst. comes to worst, [ shall need them, and use them,” he muttered, with compressed lips. ‘‘It has gone about as long as usual with- out my having a hand in some sort of a scrim- mage and I allow I may reasonably expect a whirl, pretty svon.” But though he expected that Madame Cheviot would send the men who had discovered the murdered miner, after him, Harris was this time disappointed, and morning dawned with- out any molestation being offered him. He had a fire kindled and breakfast undergo- ing preparation ere Kitty put in an appearance, and they were soon seated at the table, partak- ing of.the morning repast. t was while they were thus eugene’ that there was a knock at the door, which was part- ly open, and Mr, Wray, accompanied by Mr. Raymond, the broker, entered the room. vows a little surprised, Harris arose from the table, having just finished his meal, and handed them chairs, after which he re-seated himself. 4 ‘‘ A most pleasant morning after the rain!” he said, by way of greeting. 5 ; ‘‘Remarkably so,” Raymond said, calmly, ‘‘Have you done your breakfast, Mr. Harris?” “* Quite reget yes. Is there something for me to do, so early, at the office?” “Something for you to do, yes, sir, but not at the office. There are several little matters on hand which makes it necessary for me not to consider you 4 longer in my employ, sir.” “Indeed! What has caused this decision? I fail to understand.” “Well, sir, if your ere is so frail, an explanation is certainly due you. In the first pe you last seen cashed a check for Mr. Wray, here, after banking hours, did you not?” “J did, sir. I met Mr. Wray, and he wanted money so bad, that I cashed his check with a thousand dollars that bad been left with me b a miner, for safe-keeping.” : ' ‘* Ah! but how came you to have this miner’s money about your person? Why did you not leave it in the safe?” ‘‘The man brought it in after I had closed and locked the safe for the night. Contrary to your orders, I should have yet placed the money in the safe, Only the fellow said not, as he was liable to want it again in a few hours, and wanted me to keep it about my person.” ‘‘Well, you tell a very plausible story, sir and I should be tempted to believe you, but other circumstances are against you. The money you gave Mr. Wray is counterfeit, and it don’t look likely a stranger would be apt to give counterfeit money to a banker’s clerk, for safe-keeping. Moreover, as soon as Mr. Wray notified me this morning, I went to the bank, and found that good money to the amount of five thousand dollars had been extracted from the safe, during the night, and spurious notes for the same amount had been put in their place!”
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10 Deadwood Dick felt like groaning under this blow, but he was outwardly very caim. “This is bad business, and I am very sorry,” he said. ‘I can return Mr. Wray his check, but as I know nothing about this other matter, I can only sympathize with you in your loss.” ‘‘Sympathy is but poor consolation in such an hour as this, and yet, were these all the charges against you, I, for my part, should yet have some belief in your innocence.” ‘¢Oh! so there are other charges, eh?” “ Ay—another charge worse than that of handling bogus money. You are charged with murdering an unknown miner, near Saunders’s saloon, last night. About the same time that two men named Dawley and Goldy discovered the body, Madame Cheviot met you running toward this shanty. Thus, to all intents, Harris, you seem to be under a cloud which is not lightened, to any extent by a declaration on the part of several citizens, that you are un- doubtedly the notorious road-agent and des- _ perado, Deadwood Dick. Therefore, if you yield to arrest, I and Wray will see that you are given a trial for life and liberty, while on the other hand, if you refuse to submit to arrest, there are enough sturdy men waiting outside to take you, dead or alive.” ‘“T am not inclined to resist,” Harris said. “Tf I am given a trial, and allowed to plead my own case I am satisfied I can not only prove my own innocence, but show up the guilty ones. My only request is that you will see that my ward, here, is properly taken care of, and shielded from harm.” ‘* She shall be cared for in my own home, on your account,” Mr. Raymondsaid. ‘‘Iam loth to believe you as bad as you seem, and will, al- though a party of the prosecution, do what I can for you.” “Then, send in your officers. Kitty, I will consign you to Mr. Raymond’s protection, until this matter is settled.” Three burly miners were signaled to enter, and, at Raymond’s direction, they bound Dead- wood Dick’s hands behind his back, and dis- armed him. “ There is a little document in my vest pocket I should like you to take care of,” Dick said to Raymond. ‘It may not do me any good now, but, if Iam acquitted, it will be of use to me in the future.” The broker secured it and examined it, with some surprise. “Ah!” he said. ‘If a Deputy Marshal, why have you not made known the fact before?” ‘‘ Because I came here to work up a certain ease, quietly. If I am arrested, my business must cease until I am released, or until the Uni- ted States Marshal drops down this way.” “Tt has just occurred to me,” Mr. Wray said, addressing Raymond, “ that if this young man is really a professional shover of the ‘ queer,’ he possibly has a stock of the stuff on hand. It ea) not be a bad idea to search the shanty.” The search was accordingly made, and, as a result, three goodly sized packages of counter- feit bills were brought to ight. When shown to Deadwood Dick, he was nearly dumfounded with amazement, and made no attempt at an explanation, for, indeed, what was there in his ee to explain? He had no knowledge of ow the 2 Sperm money came there—he only knew that he was fairly interwoven in the web of a bold, deep vate designed to ruin him. Therefore, bidding good-by to Kentucky Kit, and telling her to have courage, he was led off to jail. Placerville had anticipated the need of such an institution, and when the first discovery of the auriferous had awakened in the bosoms of its founders a resolve to build a city, they had first and foremost constructed a serviceable structure ef stone, and ehristened it the ‘‘ Cor- ral,” and here it had been customary to corral sach spirits as were refractory, or otherwise un- fit to be at large. To this ‘‘ Corral,” Deadwood Dick was at once taken, and locked in a strong apartment on the seeond floor, where ho was to remain until it should please his captors to give him a trial And when he sat down upon the simple straw bed with whieh his cell was furnished, and gave way to deliberation, the prospect of an early trial was in no way particularly cheering, as he could not see any chance of its beiag the means of his acquittal. Cireumstantial evidence was strongly against Wim, and he was illy prepared for defense. Several days d—a week, toa day, from the time of Ae a: Dick’s arrest, and still he was confined, seeing no one but bis guard, and FS OR er grr ee a ET SOT ETE 8 SER Ro ae Ad nd * : 3 te oil at ir —_* nS a 7 COE a = — > 3 _* ‘ \ 2 re ar”
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“« Jessie Byrd! In heaven’s name, girl, what— who are you?” ‘Just plain Mrs. Ralph Randall Redwing,” Kit replied, coolly. ‘When you got into a flirtation with me, and married me, up at Chey- enne, I called myself Jessie Byrd, but my name was, in reality, Kitty Athol. How inoppor- tune it was, too, that, not ten minutes after our marriage, you had to light out because the U. S. Marshal was after you for horse-theft—you, the branch of a royal family of lords, dukes, or something of the kind, over in Europe. Ha! ha! ha!” Randall stood glarinY at her, like a man ber eft of his senses. ou, eh?” he finall “So it is really ed, coldly. ‘“IThad no idea you and Jessie Byrd were the same, though I noticed the resemb- lance, the other day, at the wedding that was to have been.” “Ttis reall ly your legal wife.” “Pshaw! don’t be foolish. I suppose 1 may as well tell you that that marriage was buta mockery, and you are no more my wife than any other woman.’ “Bah! I know batter. I took pains to in- vestigate the matter, and found that my certifi- cate is good.” ‘Where is it?” ““ Where you'll never get your hands on it, you may bet on that.” “Humph! I’d not harm it. Why did you send for ¥mel Do you want me to come and live with you?’ **Bah! no! I don’t want any horse-thieves hitched to my apron-strings. , Got a better fel- ler than you, ten times over.’ ‘* But he’s in jail, shough, “ ‘Randall retorted, with a malicious chuckle. ‘That don’t matter,” independently. ‘‘ He’ll get free, and you'll goin to occupy his place.” “What do you mean, girl?” “1 mean just this!” Kitty replied, setting her foot firmly on the floor. ‘ Your game is up, so far as Millicent Raymond is concerned. ‘You | are nothing to her, nor can you get a cent of her property, while I live. You have already ruined her, and if you dare to execute the threat that was contained in your letter to-day, I will telegraph to the next town for a mars al, and have you arrested—not only for horse stealing, mind i but for a certain murder that came to light, at Cheyenne, after your flight, in which your agency was clearly proven.” “And if I withdraw my attack on this girl— wha. then?” “Then, we will cry quits, until I catch you at some other villainous game.” “Well, then Vl withdraw my suit, though I would like to get a slice of the ‘old. man’s property, But your interference has knocked in the head. 1 dare say you are anxiously waiting for me to pass in my" checks, so that you can lawfully remarry, eh?” “With all patience and hope,” Kentucky Kit replied. “The sooner you can make it convenient, the sooner I shall be highly elated to attend your funeral,” “Well, you’re practical, by Jove! How’s the Raymond, up-sbairs? Liable to peg out, soon?’ “T fear she will not live long. We are trying to keep the news of her father’s death from her, lest it shall be the means of hastening her death.” “Well, I hope she ma ma go off soon, as it will accommodate me, grea ’ the young villain acknowledged, with a aalione grin. “I allow I'd better be going, now, for these are dark nights, and it’s not safe for such model young men as I to be abroad. Good-evening, dear! Give my love to your humpback old dad, when he happens around.” - On the following day, the funeral of Mr. Raymond took place, and was largely attended by the townspeople. The remains wore interred upon a grassy slope that overlooked the town. Deadwood Diek in his dungeon, had been in- formed of the broker’s sudden demise, and a feeling of deepest sadness stole over him. “TI wonder if so much trouble would have oecurred, if I had never showed my faee here?” mused, “ Nearly everywhere I go some disaster always arises, and daags Ome or more persons into its toils. What am I living for, anyhew! I have no one to cherish and care tor —all these that I ever loved are gone, it is to be hoped, te a beiter perha8, even to my darling littie boy. What a strange lifetime I have lived through in the last five years, and yes I am comparatively a boy, as far as health and spirits go. I would I were an old man— perhaps I could better bear to give up this life, demand- eid Black Hills Feashel. ih? deta er eee nae Asit is, the only and look forward for peace. iece of rope. eace I can see in my future is a— That I shall most certainly get, unless some un- foreseen and unexpected circumstance turns up to cause my liberation. Poor Kitty! I wonder how she is faring, all this time? It seems to me that I would be glad to see her once more.” Kentucky Kit did not attend the funeral, but remained by the bedside of poor Millicent, and cared for her with all a sister’s tenderness. The sick girl was very flighty in mind; it was evident that the slender thread which linked her being with life, must soon snap in twain. Madame Cheviot ac companied by Ralph Ran- dall, attended Mr, Raymond’s funeral, and af- ter its conclusion went back to the madame’s mansion, where, in the parlor, they became seated for a consultation. ‘“Well, what do you think of my work so far?” Randall asked, lighting a cigar, and ele- vating his heels upon a table. ‘So far as Icomprehend, you have done well. But I fail to understand how you have worked it, so cleverly, without detection.” "es Easily enough. I hired an old chap to work for me, and armed him with some ‘queer,’ which he worked off into Harris's possession, for safe-keeping. As luck would have it, Har- ris cashed a check for Wray with this’ same money. In fact, his Satanic majesty has been my guardian, all through, That same night, [ caused Raymond’s daughter, who is in my power, to rob her father’s safe of money, and put bogus in its place. While she was doing this, I watched my chance and slipped into Harris’s shanty and deposited another batch of counterfeit there, so that when the denouement came, there was ‘plenty of evidence of his guilt. As to the other business, I was returning from my visit to Harris’s shanty, when I met my tool, and he threatened to blow on me, if I didn’t fork over, handsome, Seeing no other avenue of escape, I knifed him, and slid off, Luck favored me again, by sending Harris along, a short time afterw ard, in order that you might encounter him, and suspicion him as the mur- derer. Altogether things have worked like a charm.” And the arch-yillain laughed as a demon might laugh. True, everything seems cut and dried as far as the road- -agent is concerned, My only fear, since learning that he is a Deputy U.S Mar- shal, is that some of his associates will bepge pen along, about the time of his trial, to free him and make us trouble.” “No fear of that, but it will be well sais for us to cage the girl and, that, at once. With her in quietus, Deadwood Dick will stand a oor show for acquittal; and then, too, wit er missing Deadwood Dick dead, and the dwarf out of ‘ the way, what’s to hinder you from again working up Darrel?” ‘“True; if the girl is put where she will be quiet, the road- -agent killed, and Athol does not again ark I may have some hopes, again—” Randa laugh. “Do you know what I have believed, ever since the wedding day?’ he demanded, sending a cloud of smoke ceilingward. ‘** How should I?’ the madame asked, languid- interrupted her, with a peculiar ] Vi Well, I have believed that it was you who killed the guards, and that you have Athol con- fined in the secret dungeon you once told me was in the rocky cliff, against which this house is built.” **T can well wish your suspicion correct, * the woman said, with a faimt smile, ‘‘ for then, I should feel safe. No! Girard Athol Pees that day, but how, or where, I have no clear idea. I have sometimes been beset with the absurd apprehension that he is yet lurkiag within this house, but I have searched every nook and corner over and over again, and failed to find a trace of him. Apparently he & gone from here ;—whether te return or not, I ean not ees.” “You may not see him or hear from him again for some time,” “True. If he would only remain away until I could marry Darrel, I should take pains that he neyer troubled me thereafter. For Darral’s money I have beem scheming, and I sha net give up until I win or lose, beyond the power of love, law or fear to help me.’ “There are ways to wark the thing suecose fully, and I flatter myself I can concoct a plan, ere long. In the mean time, if yeu can le have a little goad mone I will go forth Pr liquidate a few bar bills which necessity has forced me te contract. Ah! thanks,” as the madame handed him a couple of twenties. | “By the way, how had we better go to work to decoy the girl, and where shall we put her after we capture her?” “The dungeon will be a good place. There is but one key, and I always carry that. It is a place where a person might remain a lifetime— searched for, and yet lost to the world.” “But how can‘she be entrapped here? She is as wary and suspicious as a hawk. ‘You are a graduate in deviltry—I will leave it to you toarrange. If you are successful, I will ay you well.” ! ou are ever liberal, my gracious madame. | The girl will have to be deco oe to the grove, and then taken by force. ou will have the cell ready?” ‘* Of course.” ‘And also put your Dutch blunderbuss of a servant where he won’t be too contiguous? I don’t take any stock in that sauerkraut barrel.” “* Pshaw! he’s a combination of i ignorance and innocence,” ‘Perhaps. And now’ for the decoy. Have MN a specimen of Girard Athol’s penman- ship?” ye Yes—several letters. I will get them for ou, She soon produced them, and Randall studied the chirography closely. “Get me a piece of comm n brown paper and a pencil, now,” he said, ‘‘and I think I can fix matters, ” He set to work, and soon had the following letter formed, in a style of writing very closely resembling that of the other letters: “DEAR Cuitp: I write this to let ye know I am still alive and well. Idare not come into the town in daylight, but J will venture in to-night, at mid- night, and you will find me where the weddin’-stand was, in the grove, Fetch me some bread and meat, as I haven’t had much to eat lately. “Your loving father, “GirrarD ATHOL.” “There! I allow the fox will nibble at that bait,” Randall exclaimed, with a villainous “Look out for us about midnight!” CHAPTER x. SATAN’S WORK. KENTUCKY Kir received the note that night while standing in the doorway of the Raymond residence to get a breath of fresh air after com- ing from the sick-room, where Millicent had fallen asleep. It was handed her by a dirty-looking urehin, who first paused and surveyed her 7 ‘Be you Kentucky Kit?’ he asked, doubt- fully, ‘fer ef ye be, I’ve got a letter fer ye, what wuz given ter me, up in the mountings, by the durnedest- lookin’ little old codger I ever sot ee on,’ es, lam Kentucky Kit,” the girl replied, eagerly res forth her hand for the ve rie i'd ‘and Tam ever so much obliged to you for bringing me this.” She hurried into the house and read it over and over again joyously. ‘* My poor old father! how glad I shall be te see him! If I can on iy get Millicent to slee about midnight, I shall he safe to run over eG the grove and meet him, if only to stay for a few minutes. I wonder what he proposes to do next?” Never for a minute did the idea come into her pretty head that all was not right;—no sus- picion came to her that the letter was a for ery, for the writing was like Old Scavenger’s c graphy, and the fact that the message A written on brown wrapping paper seemed to indicate that he had used the only merep atitain- able in the hills. By using a little opiate in_her medisine, which the doctors had ordered, Kitty had Mel- licent in a sound sleep, by ‘midnight ;—then, bare-headed, she ran across the road into the grove, which was but a few steps from the Sia residence. Threading her way softly among tho grim old trees, she soon came to where the weddin stand had been erected, and yet remained; but she ecoukl seo nothing’ af Old Beavenger any- whege near it. ‘* Father!” she ealled—‘ father! here?” Thon she heard a lew langh, but before she could discover whence it came, a heavy blanket was thrown ever her head: then she wats and held by several pairs of hands. She tried to scream, but could not make her- self heard, for the hianket was held ak over her mouth until she nearly swooned overcome : ead by that, and partly by alarm, she fainte When she awakened, she was in Stygian shrug. Are you “ 3 » ae + ee eee ne eee “ — s ” « = i ~ x —— ~~ shee | s -“ 6 EN Oe ~~ re wal ot - a a = kt ow Seo a alt 5 ows ; fafa at om “ ~ * : 3 Sey . ; : i a a ~ | =
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; s : ; a : Po , Q ’ ee darkness; not an inch before her face could she ee. “Finding her hands and feet free, she arose, . and felt her way through the awful gloom until ( she ran against a wall of cold smooth rock. | She followed this, by feeling with her hands, until she came to the conclusion that she was entombed in a dungeon, with walls of solid rock, but where it was, or where she was, was a conundrum she could not solve. \ | Of course Kentucky Kit was in the madame’s dungeon, and Randall and the Jezebel both had | a hand in placing her there, after which Ran- dall went back to his lodgings, and Madame Cheviot retired to her own decidedly elegant gra apartment. “Things work well!” she mused, ‘‘ and I shall yet have the satisfaction of fingering the money- ags of George Darrel! Once I am his wife, I shall hold the ruling reins, else there will be room for him in the same place where Cyril Cheviot went. Humph! one would think, after all my awful deeds, that my conscience would chide me, but it does not. I don’t believe there is such a thing as conscience or I should have felt its chidings long ere this. My only con- science is a love—a passion for gold. And why? What good does it do me? None, and yet my thirst for it constantly increases; my coffers grow fuller, day by day. If all works as I wish, and work for, I shall yet be known as the Bonanza Queen.” And she smiled serenely at the thought! She retired to her couch, but was restless, ' ‘ despite her brave words. She felt a nervous fear of something that was to come. In desperation, she arose and drank a deep draught of liquor from a decanter on a stand by her bed, and this seemed to lull her restless- ness, for she soon dropped asleep. She did not rest soundly, however, and after awhile sat bolt upright in bed, as wide awake as ever in her life. A gasp escaped her as she discovered that the light which she had left burning was extin- guished, and on turning her head, she saw aed something that caused a moan of horror to break from her lips. ' be the wall just opposite her bed, some jhand unseen had traced the following words in ' phosphorescent fire: **Beware! Unless you undo all The pg ‘a ou have done, before , The next full moon, Your doom is sealed. G, A.’’ She could but comprehend, even while quak- ing with alarm which the sight of the flaming 4 words had caused her. Girard Athol had been there—there in her very room—and left his warning of.vengeance. L ‘ Before the next full moon! a That would be within a few days. At first she resolved to arouse the household, and have a search made for the intruder, but a second warned her it was best to keep the matter quiet. However, she sat up for the remainder of the night, arevolver clutched tightly in her grasp. Something else transpired that night, worthy r of narration. After leaving the Cheviot mansion, Ralph Randall stood for several minutes in the grove, hy, without having decided in which direction to ul turn his footsteps. ° “The girl is out of the way!” he muttered, , * and Deadwood Dick is destined to swing for his pains in coming to Placerville. By the way it may not be too late to work up the husband biz, with Miss Raymond. I dare say Kit left her alone, when she came to the grove, and it behooves me to go over and look after her.” He crossed to the Raymond residence, and boldly entered. ; Finding no one in the lower part of the house : he hastened up-stairs to the room Millicent ha occupied, but she was not there! \ With an oath he searched the other parts of ; the house for her, but all to no avail. Millicent had gone, and left nothing to indi- cate her whereabouts. > The following day was Sunday—a day de- voted to rest among the rough and ready resi- dents of Placerville, if lounging about saloons | and playing ‘‘seven-up,” could be termed rest- ing. The Reverend Obadiah Grimes Sa the * meetin’~us’ ” bell at the usual hour for divine ait services, but the lambs who were lured into the fold of this pioneer shepherd, were few and far between. fie There were too many inducements to excite- ment in saloons and street for the men to be ’ ! 4 Bn te ee ee + a é ail nye a hg = iG i tee A = ey ¥.N ‘ ‘ ri The Black Hills J ezebel. tempted into the “‘ sarmon shell,” as they called the rude church; consequently, the Rev. Grimes had to discourse almost wholly to an audience of ‘‘sister’n.” Those topics uppermost in the minds of the Placerville inhabitants were the approaching trial and probable execution of DeeAweod Dick—the mysterious disappearance of Ken- tucky Kit, and the likewise mysterious disap- pearance of Millicent Ra siden For of her, or the Athol girl, no trace could be found, though a diligent search was made. Opinions were various on all these subjects, but the general conclusion seemed to be that Deadwood Dick would fail to get evidence suf- ficient to clear him; that Kentucky Kit had either thought best to leave the place, while she could do so unmolested, or had been put out of the way by Madame Cheviot’s agency; that Millicent Raymond, laboring under mental ex- citement and grief, had wandered into the mountains, and would, in all probability, never be found alive. As soon as the fact that the late broker’s daughter was missing became: known, Ralph Randall blossomed forth with a crape band around his hat, and told a very pathetic story, with a few bogus tears in his eyes, the purport of which was that he had secretly wedded Mil- licent Raymond, nearly a year before, as her father bad refused his consent; that Millicent had Baia to acknowledge him as her hus- band at the expiration of the first six months, but when that time arrived she had put him off, and continued to do so, since. At last, a few days previous to her father’s death, he, Randall, had threatened to make known their relations, at which the poor girl had gone off into a swoon, from which she had not recovered, in her right mind, Unluckily explained Randall, Mr. Raymond had chanced to overhear the conversation, and the knowl- edge had most probably been so sudden and ex- citing that it had been too much for him, with his long-standing affection of the heart. Ran- dall accounted for Millicent’s sudden disappear- ance in the same light as the town people, and with much apparent anxiety and interest, of- fered a reward of a thousand dollars to the person who would restore to him his demented darling. ‘ It was a very cleverly concocted story, and mapa general credence, as it had been known or some time that Randall and Miss Raymond were in the habit of holding clandestine meet- ings, and that helped the scheme along. By the will of the broker, if Millicent should be dead, the property would go to her nearest heir. Who else would it be but Randall? adame Cheviot, however, did not fare as well in public opinion as Randall, for the senti- ment was not favorable toward her. The dis- appearance of the dwarf had undoubtedly ex- cited a suspicion of foul play, in the minds of the people, and now that Kentucky Kit had also suddenly disappeared, many very uncom- plimentary hints were openly discu concern- ing the madame, "hat poeta evening Deadwood Dick felt was the most lonely one of his imprisonment, and his thoughts were of anything but a plea- sant nature, for the turnkey had been in and in- formed him of the incidents that had lately oc- curred in the outside world. : That Sunday evening, too, was the scene of a highway encounter, on the gulch road in the heart of the mountains, three or four miles from Placerville, which savored of business. The young moon had reached its meridian, and was casting a sickly glimmer upon the rugged landscape, when a wagon came jolting along over the trail. It was a rude, lumbering affair, with a can- vas cover, and was drawn by a large raw-boned gray horse that looked as if it were not in the habit of associating with food more than once a year. The driver was as lean and cadaverous-look- ing as the horse—a man with thin, straggling hair and beard, with sharp, angular features and sallow eyes, and attired in blue overalls, red shirt, slouch hat and 'stogy boots. He was at the same time smoking a short- stemmed clay pipe, ‘‘ pushing” the horse with the lines to accelerate its speed, and humming a quaint old Methodist hymn, and appeared to have no other thoughts, until— The steed suddenly settled back in the breech- ing, causing the wagon to halt abruptly, and the driver beheld a rotund figure standing be- side the wagon, with a pair of huge revolvers in is grasp. And this road-agent knight, who had so un- ceremoniously swooped down upon the lone ee ¢ L a/ > ap ee x, ¥ 9 a no - voyageur, was no less a person than Hans, the Jezebel’s servant! Not alone was the Dutchman, for at the horse’s head stood the fat negress, whom we have mentioned in another chapter, her eyes rolling comically, and her whole weight braced against the horse, to keep him from escaping. ‘Surrender! You vas my brisoner mit war Hans cried, in a deep basso voice. ‘‘ Stir but so mooch as a viggle mit your hair, und I vill plow you to dunder!” “Hello! whatin thunder d’ye want. pilgrim?” the driver demanded. ‘I ain’t no stage-coach, ner ain’t got nuthin’ in the way o’ vallybles, ’cept a jack-knife and a plug of terbacker.” “Thet’s a lie. I know better ash dot,” Hans *¢ Off you dink you can pull wool ofer ou makes a pig mistake, Ve pe ” replied. mit our eyes, der boss off dis trail, und flip! Iam Bleedy Ben, an’ my companion, she is Butcher-knife Belle, und ve yocst kill you quicker ash dunder off you don’t deliver up dot package vot you’ve got mit der hind end off your ominousbus—von’t ve, Butcher-knife?” ‘Yas, we will, fo’ suah, sah!” the colored road-agentess declared. ‘What package? I have no package,” the stranger said, with visible uneasiness. ** I don’t understand.” “Dot is a lie, swi dimes!” Hans asseverated. ‘You see, old schap, ve was dead right on dot leetle game, und our eyes don’t close up worth acent. You vas got a package mit your vagon, directed to Madame Cheviot, und dot package contains counderfoot mooney, too. Now, off you know ven your scallub ish worth ein cent a pound, you'll jest shump oud of dot vagon, an’ skip—waltz—skedaddle. Off you don’t, ve dakes you to Placerville, before an investigation gommitty, an’ unless you vos can eggsplain how you cum by dot money, you gets bresented mit a piccadilly collar, free vidout sharge.” “You bet! twig! I git! Ta! ta!’ the owner of the illicit stage replied, longaie from the wagon. ‘‘Much obleeged to ye fer lettin’ me off, ’ca’se I didn’t know w’at war in the bundle. Oh! this wicked, wicked world!” And he hurried away, rapidly. CHAPTER XI. CLOSING IN TOWARD A CRISIS. THAT same evening had another incident con- nected with our story, worth while to chronicle., Though no city, or half of one, for that mat- ter, Placerville boasted of many metropolitan advantages, among which was its daily news- paper, called the Budget, which was edited and published by a superannuated little mortal named Scram, and devoted to local news an correspondence from paige ne. towns. Scram, with his pinched visage, green gog- les, and frightful famine of flesh upon his mes, was not the most pre sing looking rson in the world to look at, and it had been inted that he was not the man apt to look the second time at a dollar in deliberation as to how was the best way and the most honest way to gather it in to his coffers. or was the genial Scram—Antonio Adolphus —said to have any over great compunctions about the truthfulness of artieles published in his paper, so long as they were readably sensa- tional, and helped to fill up, and save ‘‘ padding.” In consequence many little items found their way into the Budget that were none too truthful and yet which the patrons of the paper digested as veritable fact. his selfsame Sunday evening that Hans ‘Schwartzenheimer played up road-agent, An- tonio Adolphus Scram was seated in his office, scissoring news items for his next day’s issue when there came a knock at the door, and a dirtily dressed miner, with a long beard, and a pick on his shoulder, entered. *“ Ah! Good-evening!” cried Scram. ‘‘ Happy to see you! Be seated. What's the news?” “News! lordy mighty! sech news!” the mi- ner gasped, seating himself. ‘‘Be you ther newspaper chap?” ‘*T have that honor,” Antonio replied, with serene complacency. “And my name’s Pete Dinkeleee, from Chico,” the stranger volunteered. ‘‘ Ye’ve got a reporter up in Chico, ain’t ye, mister?” “Ah! yes—very attentive fellow—a most oe representative of my paper, is Mr, ook. ‘“Yas, - Well, ye see he got on a b’ilin’ drunk, last night, an’ not feelin’ good, ter-day, axed me ter come down an’ give ye sum p’ints 0’ news. Yesee, thar’s a sensation up thas, this mornin’. A leetle dwarf kim inter town, got b’ilin’ full ©’ ‘forty-rod,’ an’ then sed that he was tired o’ livin’, thet his name was Girard a? hes \ ma ek 4 . : gis ny wees see eth ee ee you pet we're quite _
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Athol; an’ then he tuk out a knife an’ cut his throat from ear to ear, Jest as he was passin’ off this coil, a young gal rushed up, called him “husband,” an’ then she popped herself over wi’ a six, an’ thar was two corpusses. So we jest chucked ’em in a prospect-hole, sed a doxology over ’em, an’ I come down ter report, So ef ye kin make an item of et, mebbe folks "Il think Chico is gittin’ ter bea red-hot place, an’ popylation ‘ll drift thet way. Ye might say, tew, thet we’re goin’ ter hev a dance-house started thar, soon, an’ et’ll cost only six bits fer supper, dance, bug-juice and cigars; dog cheap, you bet!” ‘“Of course I shall be happy to put the mat- ter in print,” Mr. Scram said, and then his re- porter took leave, In the Budget of the next morning was a full- column account of the double suicide at Chico, a little camp some twenty miles from Placer- ville, and Antonio wound up the brilliant effort, with the following: “Tt was this same couple that created such a dis- turbance at the Darrel-Cheviot wedding, a few days ago, and caused the ceremony to be indefinitely postponed. There can no longer be a doubt that the explanation of Madame Cheviot was truthful, and we hope to soon have the pleasure of reporting the consummation of the ceremony that was then so abruptly interrupted.” George Darrel, the bonanza king, was among the first to peruse this, on the following morn- ing, and he read it over and over again, several’ times, carefully. tae 5 oe ve been unjust to her,” he said, ‘but I believed at the time that the dwarf was really her husband. At all events, the two are now dead, and nothing is to hinder me from marrying the madame, and uniting our two fortunes. She is not a long-lived woman, while Iam robust and of a centenarian race, and bid fair to some day own all. Besides, T shall in marrying her gain control of all, now.” He accordingly soon after called upon the madame, and showed her the account in the paper. She read it, the expression of her countenance undergoing but little change. ‘It is better so,” she said, sadly. ‘‘ My poor brother was of no good to himself or any one else, and I presume his companion, of whom I know nothing, was the same. You are satis- fied by this, then, that I am bi a es you?” “Of course, my dearest, and I beg that you willname an early day for our union.” “Then let it be to-morrow, just before the trial of the man Harris, whom | must unfortu- nately bear witness against. We will be quietly married, here in my parlor, at nine o’clock, His trial, T understand, will not commence until then. And so it was arranged to have the rites per- formed, without the knowledge of outside parties. The night prior to the day of Deadwood Dick’s approaching trial, passed drearily to the prisoner, for, being alone and with no one to whom he could appeal, he had no company but his thoughts. _ And he had thought and thought so much that he was heartily tired of thinking. Heonly wished for something exciting or surprising to occur, to break the depressing monotony. It came just as dawn was beginning to break, in the shape of a wild, distorted face, peering through the grating over the door of his cell— the face of Old Scavenger, the dwarf! Harris started violently as he saw the not-to- be-forgotten visage, The hair that covered the face was matted in blood, the eyes gleamed with wild ferocity, the fang-like teeth showed terribly. : ‘*Ha! ha! you start at sight of me, as well you may!” the dwarf cried, fiercely. “ You are a wretch—a devil! Where is Kentucky Kit —where is my child?’ F “T do not know, I left her safe in the care of Raymond, the banker, when I was arrested, but have since learned that she has disappeared,” Dick replied, anxiously. gL Bab! you know UE is. Youhave had her hidden away from me!” Scavenger hissed, tearing at the bars, as if be longed to get in. “ You are a demon to do this. Again I demand, ‘where is my child? You know—you have her —tell me, or I'll tear your heart out! 9 “‘ Again I repeat I do not know where she is, ! the prisoner replied. , m ha! we shall see. If you are lying to me—if you have dared to harm one hair of that pure child’s head, I'll tear you limb from limb.” With demoniac laughter,the face disappeared ‘from the window. The Black Hills Jezebel. “He has gone stark mad, and if he fails to find the girl, there will be bad work,” Dick mut- tered, gloomily. ‘‘I hope he will get over the notion that I know anything of her where- abouts.” In the darkest hour before the dawn of that same morning, a wild-eyed, haggard being, with disheveled hair and torn clothing, gained en- trance to the Cheviot mansion by aid of a skele- ton key, and, shortly after, with cat-like move- ments, stood in Madame Cheviot’s sleeping apartment. : The dim lamplight revealed the once pretty face of Milly Raymond, but now_ terribly changed from suffering. The light of insanity burned in the sunken eyes, and the. crafty cun- ning of amaniac was in the expression of the pallid face. i For some time she searched noiselessly about the room; then she shook her clinched hand on high, and departed. alf an hour later two figures left the man- sion and hastened like shadows down the de- serted street, and out of the town into the dark, gloomy gulch beyond. One of these persons was Millicent Raymond ae ‘gee was Kitty Athol, going to—her ea Bright and clear dawned the morning of Dead- wood Dick’s trial, as if to cheer him to meet those bravely who were to judge him. But for him the morning’s brightness had no comfort; he was quietly resigned to the test of standing his trial, and receiving such sentence as should be passed on him. And he had little doubt but what the result would be against him, and that the sentence would be death. About an hour before the trial was to take place, a party, composed of Madame Cheviot, and her intended husband, her daughter, Ralph Randall, and the minister, assembled in the madame’s parlor, where the previously inter- eee nuptials were to be consummated. he couples assumed their respective posi- tions, and the minister was about to begin, when there came a loud knock at the front door. “Good heavens, what now?” was the Jezebel’s thought, but it did not find expression in words. ‘* Will you please go and see what is wanted, Randall?” she asked. ‘‘ My servant is not in the house.” Randall assented, and leaving the parlor, closed the door after him, after which he made his way to the hall door, and opened i The two roughs, Black Bob and Bloody Bill stood on the steps, outside. ‘What d’ye want?’ Randall demanded, gruffly, although being in all the madame’s secrets, he could well guess the nature of the bullwhackers’ errand. “We want ter see the mum,” Bloody Bill growled. ‘Ef you’re her rn: f jest tell her thet B. B. and B. B. await, outside.” “Madame Cheviot is engaged, and you cannot obtain an interview with her, to-day, so be off with you.” ‘“Waal, now, my heyes, what imperdence! Did ther old gal give ye them orders, my gay an’ festive super? Ef she did, I allow she orter ’a’ knowed better. We two black an’ bloody sons 0’ royal parentage ken’t be put down in thet style—oh, no! We got wind thet the ma- dum was er-goin’ tew take to herself a husband, an’ we thort as how et would be ther proper caper fer us to come over an’ give the bride away!” ‘* Impossible, sir. I must itively refuse to admit you. If you will call another day she will perhaps be able to give you audience. ‘But, see hyar, young fellar, thet ain’t our lay-out, ner we ain’t ter be bluffed, We want ther madame, or her money—a straight thou- sand dollars. Ef she don’t send out the cash in the simplified jerk of a lamb’s tail, we’ll make things howl—an’ don’t ye fergit it. Ef she don’t pan out, we'll give her away, in a way she won’t relish.” 3 Randall saw that something was brewin extremely bad for the interests of his client, an knew that it was necessary to do handsomely by these human leeches, to save trouble. There- fore he said: ’ ‘“ Well, wait here a moment, and I will see what I can do for you,” and then he hurried to the parlor. ’ ‘What is the matter?” Madame Cheviot asked, anxiously. ‘‘ Who is at the door?” “Two rough customers, who claim that you are indebted to them to the extent of a thou- sand dollars, and insist on having their pay at once, o> ‘‘Oh, yes. I purchased a tract of land of them, yesterday, and promised to settle with them, to-day. You will find the amount ina roll, upon my dressing-bureau. Please get it and give it to them, for me,” the madame said, thus adroitly warding off suspicion, with a clever lie. Randall hastened to obey, and soon after re- turned to the parlor. ‘** Now let the ceremony be performed, hoping there will be no further interruption,” Mr. Dar- re] commanded. And accordingly the minister read the mar- riage service, and George Darrel and Madame Cheviot were made man and wife. After receiving the congratulations of those present, the bonanza king took an elegant dia- mond-set locket from his pocket, with a golden chain attached. It was a beautiful and costly affair, and as he placed it about the bride’s neck, he said: “* This I present to you, my lady Darrel, with the prayer that it may bring you long life, pros- perity and happiness.” : “You are very good, dear husband,” the bride replied, ‘‘and I cannot receive the pre- sent without giving one in return. Ah! there is Hans’s footstep in the hall, now. Please call him, Randall. Y Randall obeyed, and the clumsy Dutchman entered the parlor. ‘“Hans,” the new Mrs. Darrel said, ‘‘I want. you and Mr. Randall to go into the garret and. bring down one of two large wooden chests you. will find stored there. Be sure and bring the chest which stands on the right-hand side of the stairway, as you go up.” ‘““Yaw, ve fetch ’im,” Hans replied. ‘‘ Coom along, Misder Randall.” They were gone about ten minutes, when they returned, carrying a large red chest between them, which they deposited upon the floor. “ Are you sure you brought the right one?” the madame asked, anxiously. ‘ According to your directions we brought the chest standing on the right-hand side of the stairs, as we went up,’”? Randall replied, bow- ing. “Then it is all right,” the bride said, with evident relief. She then turned to Darrel, and handed him a bunch of keys. ‘¢There, dear husband, is a bunch of keys, one of which will unlock that chest, which con- tains the present I would give you. Unlock it, raise the lid, and tell me what you think of it.” “*T will do so, expecting to find it full of gold,” Darrel said, laughingly. ‘ : * And you will have your expectations grati- fied, J expect,” Randall said. Kneeling, the bonanza king fitted a key to the lock, turned it, and raised the lid! Then came acry of surprise—of horror and consternation, and every one leaped back a ace! * What a wedding gift was this! Even the madame covered her face with her hands, and staggered back as though shot! For there in the bottom of the chest,in a cramped position, was the skeleton of a human being—of aman! It had lain there for several years, evidently, for what flesh had not decom- posed had dried tight to the bones; the grinning skull, too had lost its hair, and the sockets were | eyeless, For the space of a minute George Darrel azed at the appalling spectacle; then, master- ing the horror that had seized him, he turned to his bride, sternly. “Woman, what does this mean?” was all he said, but there was an awful something in the way it was asked. “Do not ask her, for this mistake has quite overcome her. Instead, let me expluin,” Rate dall said. Madame Cheviot’s first husband, who was, un- luckily, a notorious outlaw and desperado. Madame never lived with him after she learned his true character, but when, wounded and dying, him from being lynched by the officers of the law, her heart went out in pity for him, and she promised to hide him; so she placed him in this chest, and left the lid a trifle raised, so that he could breathe. When the danger had partly blown over, she went to carry him £004, bus. found that he had in some way jarred the wedge from under the lid, and it had closed down tightly. Having a spring-lock, he could not raise the lid, and he had smothered. Her house being watched for weeks—ay, months, the madame couid not dispose of the body, and had to leave itin its tomb, in the garret. There it has remained ever since, because of her natural dread of an attempt to make away with it, In “This skeleton is the remains of - he came to her and begged her to keep»
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14 The Black Hills Jezebel. some unaccountable way, the boxes have changed places, and created this scene, of which pe eS is innocent, I assure you.” _ Darrel heard him through with a cold, stern expression of countenance, after which he spoke: ‘Your story I can not credit!” he said, em- phatically. ‘I now believe, as I half suspected at first, that I am the victim of a designing ad- venturess’s schemes. Bring down the other chest. We'll, see what is in that!” CHAPTER XII. CONCLUSION—THE LAST BITE OF A SNAKE. ‘““Yus, bring down the other chest,” the madame said, eagerly. ‘‘If my gold is not in that, I am lost.” Accordingly, Randall and the Dutchman went up-stairs again, and on their return car- ried another chest between them, which was an exact duplicate of the first. “There! open that, and see that I have the gold, and have not been deceiving you!” the bride cried. : “No! you may open it yourself. I am not fond of opening coflins,” the speculator retort- ed. “It is for you to prove your assertion— not I.” . Taking the keys from him, the madame step- toward the chest, but before she could reach it the lid was suddenly thrown up, there was an ear-splitting yell, and Old Scavenger sprung from his hiding-place! “Ha! ha!” he roared, wildly; “my time has come for vengeance. It is too late for you to repent and mend your ways, for, Jezebel! you shall die, ere you do any further deviltry!” And as be spoke, he leaped forward, and be- fore any one could hinder him, he plunged a dag- er to the hilt in the horror-paralyzed madame’s m. Then, with a shout of demoniac laughter, he sprung through a window, and made his escape through the grove. George Darrel ee madame as she fell, and carried her to a couch, then turned to speak to Randall; but that worthy was not in the room, The Dutchman, however, approached. ‘Ts she dead?” he asked, quietly. “Tam afraid so, Bring some water.” He obeyed, and dashed a liberal quantity in her face, but it failed to bring back the spirit of life which had already taken its flight. ‘She. is already dead,” he said, ‘‘and it is just = well that she is thus.” “* Because it would only have been a matter of time with her, as there are enough crimes against her to hang her higher than Haman!” ‘You are not the ignorant Dutchman you appeared a short time ago.” ‘No. Iam one of these Deputy U.S. Mar- shal detectives sent here to ferret out who was circulating bogus money, in this vicinity, for a gang of Eastern counterfeit-rs. I also had pa- rs to serve on the madame for no less than our murders that have been committed by her, in as many years. It was my purpose to arrest her to-day. My name is S:ott Davis!” ‘*What! the noted sleuth of Cheyenne?” “The same. The other two persons sent on here were Pete McClure, who is made up as a negress, and Deadwood Dick. I did not know his tack, until he was arrested and his deputy’s papers taken from him.” The news of Madame Cheviot’s murder was all over the town, in less than an hour, but though a crowd gathered before the mansion, the doors opened to no one whom Bonanza Dar- rel did not see fit to admit. He on the impulse of the moment, offered a reward of five thousand dollars, for the dwarf’s capture, within a week. is was done more to get rid of the crowd than anything else, for he was well satisfied that the dwarf would never be found. A large posse of Vigilantes were hastily or- anized, and a search made, but without satis- factory result. Old Scavenger was not to be found, Owing to the excitement consequent upon the murder of the Jezebel, the trial of Deadwood Dick had been adjourned to the following day. Then he was brought forth from his confine- ment, for trial. Tn lieu of a court-house, the wedding platform in the grove was made the scene of the trial, being occupied by the prisoner, and the self- constituted court, which was composed of six Bene, a judge, and a Jawyer for the defense “md one for the prosecution. The witnesses in die case were to oA ances out of the audience, as they were wan SS The first charge against the prisoner was that of murder; of witnesses there were two—both rough but honest miners, whose word was un- impeachable. heir testimony corresponded exactly, and was to the effect that when they were on their way home, late at night, they heard some one ahead of them suddenly start off on a run, They had given chase until they came to where a man was lying dead, across the walk. Soon after, Madame Cheviot had come up, and she stated that she had just met Deadwood Dick running in great haste toward his shanty. Deadwood Dick then was sworn, and in a clear and concise way related how he had first discovered the murdered man, and on hearing some one approaching, felt sure were he dis- covered there he would be accused of the crime, and had deemed it best to take leg bail for se- curity. This concluded the testimony in the re aed case, as Madame Cheviot was now ead, The lawyers then had their say, and the mat- ter was left out to the jury, who at once gave in a verdict of not guilty, and the judge wound up by pronouncing Edward Harris acquitted of the charge of murder. This, however, was but the first stage of the trial, for Degdwood Dick was to answer to the charge of circulating counterfeit money. Mr. Wray appeared, first, on the part of the prosecution, and gave testimony of how he had received a thousand dollars in counterfeit mo- ney, from Harris, when said Harris was em- loyed as clerk of Mr. Raymond; on discover- ing the swindle, he had at once repaired to Mr. Raymond, who became somewhat uneasy, and, on examining his safe, found five thousand dol- lars in good money gone, and the same amount of spurious stuff in its place. They had at once gone to Harris’s house and arrested him, and discovered three packages, containing another thousand of the “‘ queer” in his shanty. Savernt others testified to the finding of the money in the shanty; then Deadwood Dick was recalled and sworn. His explanation was the same he had given Raymond the morning of his arrest; of the money found in his shanty, and that exchanged at the bank, he had nothing te say. He had had no handling of it, nor any knowledge of how it cume there. “Very strange!” the judge commented. “Tf there is no evidence in your behalf, I am afraid we shall have to find you guilty.” ‘But I haff got some effydence!” shouted a voice, and Hans, alias Scott Davis came for- b Locip accompanied by his sable-hued pard, Mc- une. He then made a deposition of his genuine character and that of his companion, and made revelations that entirely cleared Harris. He stated, among‘other things, how he and Mc- Cune had overheard Ralph Randall inveigle Millicent Raymond into a scheme, wherein she was to rob her father’s bank of five thousand dollars, and put the same amount of bogus epee 4 Randall was to furnish—in its place; how Randall had explained to her his trick of hiring a ruffian to deposit a sum of the “queer” with Harris; how he, Randall, in- tended to make a secret entrance to the Harris shanty and leave packages of ‘‘ queer” there, so that when the crash came, Harris would be ir- retrievably caught in the toils. Still further, how Randall had explained to the girl that he and Madame Cheviot were ex- pecting a valuable package from the East. This the two detectives had captured. : There were several other things that Davis brought clearly to light, and the upshot of the matter was that Deadwood Dick was discharged and heartily congratulated by the majority of the citizens. As Ralph Randall had been missing ever since Madame Cheviot’s death, and as there was a re- ward for his capture, dead or alive, Deadwood Dick consented to remain in the vicinity and watch for him, while Davis and MeCune worked the other mountain towns, The Jezebel was buried the next day, and also the skeleton, whom many believed to have been her previous husband, Cheviot, who had strangely Aiesipeaced Her fuueral was large- ly attended, more out of curiosity than any- thing else, and there were few who gazed upon the cold white face of the superlatively wicked woman who did not wonder what place there > would be found for such as she in eternity. Ralph Randall had taken advantage of the first opportunity after the unearthing of the - : 4 : Dep cat de ad ay we .pocket. skeleton, to make his escape, as he well knew that matters were coming to a foeus, and that if he considered ‘the value of his neck anything, it was advisable for him to put it out of the reach of Judge Lynch’s noose. Therefore he took to the mountains, and roamed about in the deepest recesses, depending on his gun as a food-furnisher. One morning, he approached nearer to the town than he had yet been since turning fugi- tive, and there discovered, lying dead upon a grassy slope, with a pistol wound in her fore- head—Kentucky Kit. Upon her breast was pinned a paper covered with irregular pencil-writing. In curiosity, the fugitive knelt and read the words thereon written, which were as follows: “This is vengeance. She won him from me—she would have taken him ‘from me, and so I killed her and go hence to kill myself. 1am mad—ah! yes, am aware of that, but the maddest person can have vengeance, MILLicent.”’ ‘‘ What a chance for my vengeance,” Ran- dall mused. ‘‘ Both the dwarf and Deadwood Dick are abroad. The dwarf may stumble up- on this corpse at any moment. Egad! I'll fix it.” He took a note-book and pencil from his pocket, and wrote rapidly, then tearing out the page, pinned it to the dead girl’s garments in lieu of Millicent’s note, which he put in his What he had written was simply the brief outpouring of a demon’s nature: “Ha! ha! old humpty-dumpty—how like you this? I’ve had my revenge; you can have what's left. **DEaADWoop Dick.” “Tf the dwarf finds this, he will never rest night or day, until he kills mine enemy;” and the villain laughed wickedly as he turned away, And Scavenger did find it a day later; buried sweet Kitty in a lone forest grave, and then turned his face to the south-west—an awful face it was, in its set, stern expression—a face where- on was written terrible resolve. “ Vengeance shall be mine!” he said. THE END. Half-Dime Singer's Library 1 Whoa, Exmta! and 59 other Songs. 2 Caprain Curr and 57 other Songs. 3 THe Garnsgoro’ Har and 62 other Songs, 4 Jonnny Morean and 60 other Songs. § [un Srrixe You Wir A Fearuer and 62 others, 6 GEORGE THE CHARMER and 56 other Songs. 7 Tue Bete or Rockaway @nd 52 other Songs. 8 YounG FEeLLAH, You’RE Too FREsH and 60 others, 9 Say Youne Giri and 65 other Songs. 10 I’w THE GoveRNOR’s ONLY Son and 58 other Songs, 11 My Faw and 65 other Songs. 12 Comin’ THRO’ THE Rye and 55 other Songs. 18 Tae Roiiickine IrRIs#MAN and 59 other Songs, 14 Ory Doe Tray and 62 other Songs. 15 Wuoa, Cuariie and 59 other Songs, 16 In THIS WHEAT By anv By and 62 other Songs. 17 Nancy Leg and 58 other Songs. 18 I’m THE Boy THAT's Bounp To BLaze and 57 others, 19 THe Two ORPHANS and 59 other Songs. 20 WHAT ARE THE WiLpD WAVES SAYING, SISTER? and 59 other Songs. 21 InpIGNANT PoLty Woe and 59 other Songs. 22 THe OLp Arm-CHarr and 58 other Songs. 23 On Coney IisLAND BrAcu and 58 other Songs. 24 OLp Simon, THE Hot-Corn Man and 60 others. 25 I’m ry Love and 56 other Songs. 25 PARADE oF THE GuaRDs and 56 other Songs. 27 Yo, Heave, Ho! and 60 other Songs. 28 "Twit NEVER Do To Gis ir up So and 60 others, 29 Buve Bonnets Over THE BORDER and 54 others, 30 Tae Merry Lavanine Man and 56 other Songs. 31 Swerr ForGer-me-Not and 55 other Songs. 2 LerrLe Bary Mine and 53 other Songs. 33 Dr BANJO AM DE INSTRUMENT FoR Me and 53 others, 34 Tarry and 50 other Songs. 85 Just To PLEASE THE Boys and 52 other Songs. 36 SKATING ON ONE IN TRE GUTTER and 52 others. 87 Kotorep Kranks and 59 other Songs. 88 Nit DespERANDUM and 53 other Songs. 39 Tue Grru I Lert Benryp Me and 50 other Songs, 40 ‘Tis put A LirrLe Fapep Fiower and 50 others, 41 Prerry WHILHELMINA and 60 other Songs. 42 DANCING IN THE Barn and 63 other Songs. 43 H. M.S. Prvarore, coMPLete, and 17 other Songs, Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five cents per copy, or sent posi-pcid, to any address, on re- ceipt of Six cents per number, 5 BEADLE AND ADAMS, PuptiisHers, : 98 Ww.14M STREET, New YorE, , ‘ pu
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32 Large Three-Column Pages, 1.4 Hard Crowd; or, GenTLEMAN Sam’s Sister. By Philip 8S. Warne. 2. The Dare-Devil; or, THe WINGED Witch or THE SEA, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 3. Kit Carson, dr., THe Crack SHot oF THE West. By Buckskin Sam. 4. The Kidnapper; or, THe Great SHANGHAI OF THE NortHwest. By Philip 8. Warne, 5. The Fire-Fiends; or, HERCULES, THE Houncusack. By A. P. Morris. 6. Wildcat Bob, THe Boss Brurser; or, Tor BorpeR BLoopHounps, By Ed. L. Wheeler. 7. Death-Notch, Thx Destroyer; oR, Tae Sprrir Lake Avencers.. By Oll Coomes, 8. The Headless Horseman. A strange story of Texas, By Capt. Mayne Reid. - &. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover. 10. Vidocq, THe FreNcH POLICE Spy. Written by himself. : 11. Midshipman Easy. By Capt. Mar- at. 2. The Death-Shot; or, TRACKED TO DeatH. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 13. Pathaway; ox, Nick WHIFFLES, THE Oxip TRAPPER OF THE NorTHWeEstT. By Robinson. 14, Thayendanegea, THE Scovurcr; or, Toe WaAr-EAGLE oF THE Monawks, Ned Buntline. 15. The Tiger-Slayer; or, EaGLr- Heap 'to THE Rescue. By Gustave Aimard. 16, The White Wizard; or, THe Great PROPHET OF THE SEMINOLES, By Ned Buniline. 1%. Nightshade, THE Rosser PRINCE or Hounstow Hratg. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. i8. The Sea Bandit; or, Tox QuEEN OF THE Isitx. By Ned Buntline, 19. Red Cedar, Tur Pramm OvTLaw. By Gustave Aimard, 20. The Bandit at Bay; or, THe Pi- RATES OF THE PRAtnies. By Gustave Aimard, 21. The Trapper’s Daughter; or, THE Ovtiaw’s Farr. By Gustave Aimard, 22. Whitelaw: or, Natrim or THE Lake Sore. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 23. The Red Warrior; or, StreLia DeLorME’s ComancHEé Lover. By Ned Buntline, 24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai- mard, author of “ Tiger-Slayer,”’ ete. 25. The Gold-Guide; or, Stren Arm, THE ReGuLATOR. ‘By Francis Johnson. 26. The Death-Track; or, THE Ovt- LAWS OF THE-Mountarn. By Francis Johnson, 27. The Spotter-Detective; or, THE Girts or New York. By Albert W. Aiken. 28. Three-Fingered Jaci, THe Roap- AGENT oF THE Rockies. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 29. Tiger Dick, Taz Faro Kin; or, Tue CasHurer’s Came. By Philip 5. Warne. 80. Gospel George; or, Fiery FRrep, Toe Ovrtaw. By Joseph FE. Badger, Jr. 31. The New York ‘Sharp ;’ or, Tar Fuaso or Licgutnmna. By Albert W. Aiken. 32. B’hoys of Yale; on, THe ScrapEs or A Harv Ser or Coturamns, By John D. Vose. 33. Overland Kit. By. A. W. Aiken, 34. Rocky Mountain Rob. By Aiken. 35. Kentuck, the Sport. By Aiken. 36. Injun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 37%. Hirl, the Hunchback; or, Tux SWORDPMAKER OF THE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 38. Velvet Hand; or, Tue [Ron Grir or fnuun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 39. The Russian Spy; or. Tee Brora- ERS OF THE STARRY CROSS. By Frederick Whittaker, 40. The Lorg Haired ‘Pards;’ or, Yue Tartans or THE Puamss. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr, 41. Gold Dan; or, THE WHITE SavaGu or THE Great Saur Lake. By Albert W. Aiken, 42. The California Detective; or, Tse Wrrcnes oF New Yorn. By Albert W. Aiken. 43. Dakota Dan, TH® RECKLESS RANGER; or, THE Bre-Hunters’ Excursion. By ou Coomes, 44, Old Dan Rackback, Tur Great Extarminator. By Oll Coomes. 45. Old Bull’s Eye. Tse Licurnine Ssor or THe Piains. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 46. Bowie-Knife Ben, TH" LirTLx Hounrer or THe Nor’-wesr. By Oll Coomes. 4%. Pacific Pete, THE PRINCE OF THE REvotver, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 48. Idaho Tom, THE YounG OUTLAW OF SILVERLAND, By Oll Coomes. 49. The Wolf Demon; or, THE QUEEN OF 50. Sek 4 ley W. Aiken. ee » Jac i PRAIRIE 4 By Jos. E. Barger Sree Bae 3 a ek RN se SS a Re el a SE a ee ee Ol en ere —— ee ee 51. Red Rob, THe Boy Roap-AGEnt. By Oll Coomes. ; 52. Death Traiiex, TH» Cnr or Scours. By Hon, Wm. P. Cody, (Buffalo Bill.) §3. Silver Sam; or, THz Mystery or Deaiwoop Crry. By Col. Delle Sara. 54, Always on Hand; or, Tue Sportive Sport or THE oor Hows. By Philip S. Warne. 55. The Scalp Hunters. A Romance or THE PLaIns. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 56. The Indian Mazeppa; or, THE Map Man oF THE Pratns. By Albert W. Aiken. 57. The Silent Humter ; or, THE SCOWL Haut Mystery. By Percy B. St. John. 58. Silver Knife; or, WICKLIFFE, THE Rocky Mounrarn Ranger. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 59. The Man From Texas; or, THE OvTLAW oF ARKANSAS. By Albert W. Aiken. 60. Wide Awake; or, THE |pIOT oF THE Buack Hints. By Frank Dumont. 61. Captain Seawaif, rxz PRIVATEER. By Ned Buntline. 62. Loyal Heart; or, Tut TRAPPERS OF ARKANSAS, By Gustave Aimard. 63. The Winged Whale. By Aiken. 64. Double Sight, the Death Shot. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 65. The Red Rajah; or, Tae ScourGcE or THE InprEs. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 66. The Specter Barque. A TALE Or THE Paciric. By Captel Mayne Reid. 67. The Boy Jockey; or, Honesty veRSUS CROOKEDNESS. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 68. The Fighting Trapper; or, Kit CARSON TO THE ReEscur. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. - 69, The Irish Captain; A Tax or Fonrtrenoy. By Captain Frederick Whittaker, 70. Hydrabad, Tue SrranGurR; or, ALETHE, THE CHILD OF THE CorD, By Robinson. %1. Captain Cool-Blade, or, THz Man SHARK OF THE Misstssipp1. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 72, The Phantom Hand. A Srory or New York Heartus anD Homers. By A. W. Aiken. 43, The Knight of the Rea Cross; or, Tae MaGicrAN or Granapa. Dr. J. H. Robinson. 74. Captain of the Rifles. A Romance or THE Mexican VALLEY. By Captain Mayne Reid. 75. Gentleman Gecrge, or, PAaR.Lor, Prison, STAGE AND SrrREET. By Albert W. Aiken. 76. The @Queen’s usketeer ; or, THisnk, THE Princess PaLmist. By George! Albony, 7727. The Fresh of Friseo; or, Tir Herimress of BukNAVENTURA. By Albert W. Aiken. V8. The Mysterious Spy; or, GoLpEn FEATHER, THE BuccANEER’s Davcurer. By Grainger. 79. Joe Phenix, THE PoLice Spy. By Albert. W. Aiken. 80. A Man -of Nerve; TAR DwarRF. By Philip 8. Warne. 8i. The Human Tiger; or Fire. By Albert W. Aiken. 82. Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster. By Col. Thomas H. Monstery. 83. Gold Bullet Sport: or, THz Knicuts oF THE OVERLAND, By Buffalo Bill. 84. Hunted own; or, Wrren. By Albert W. Aiken. 85. The Cretan Rover; or, ZULEIKAn, THe BeautiroL. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, S86. The Big Hunter; or, THE QUEEN or tre Woops. By the author of “ Silent Hunter.”’ 8'7. The Scarlet Captain; or, THE PRISONER OF THE TowER. By Col. Delle Sara. 88. Bie George, THE GIANT OF THE Guticu; or, THE Frve OuTLaw Brotuers, By Badger. 89. The Pirate Prince; or, PRerry Netry, THe QuEEN oF THEIsLE. By Col. Ingraham. 90, Wild Will, Tae Map RANCHERO; or, THE TERRIBLE TEXAN, By Buckskin Sam. 91. The Winning Oar; or, THE Inn KEEPER’s DauGuTeR. By Albert W. Aiken. 92, Buffalo Bill, Tux Buckskin Kine; By Major Dangerfield Burr. 93. Captain Dick Talbot, Kine or tHe Roap. By Albert W. Aiken. 94. Freelance, THe BUCCANEER; or, The Warr or tHe Wave. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 95. Azhort, THE A.0MAN; or, THE SECRETS or THE Ducal Patace, By Anthony P. Morris. 96. Double-Death; or, THE Spy QuEEN or Wyomina. By Capt, Frederick Whittaker. 97. Bronze ack, THE CALIFORNIA THOROUGHBRED. By A. W. Aiken. 98. The Rock Rider; or, THe Sprrmrr OF THE Sirrra. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. a or, CALIBAN, or, A Heart THE WHITE nn Each Number Complete, Price 10 cts. 99. The Giant Rifleman; or, Wir Lire In THE Lumber Reaions. By Oll Coomes., 100. The French Spy; or, Tar Brive or Paris. A Story of the Commune. By A, P. Morris. 101. The Man from New York; or, ars ang or A Rich Youna Woman. By Albert : iken, 102. The Masked Band; or, THE Man Wirnour A Name. By George L. Aiken. 103. Merle, the Mutineer; or, THE BRAND OF THE RED ANncHor.’ By Col. P. Ingraham. 104, Montezuma, the Merciless; or, Tse EaGLr AND THY: SERPENT. By Col. P. Ingraham. 105. Dan Brown of Denver, THE Rocky Mownrain Derective. By Jos, E. Badger, Jr. 106. Shamus O’Brien, Tur BouLp Boy or GLINGAL; or, IrntsH Hearts AND Irish Homes, By Colonel Delle Sara. 107. Richard Talbot of Cinnabar; or, Tur Broruers or THE Rep Hany, By A.W. Aiken, 108. The Duke of Diamonds; or, THE FLower or Catcurra. By Capt. Fred, Whittaker. 109. Captain Kyd, Tue Kine or THE BLacK Fiaa. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 110. The Silent Rifleman. A Tale of the Texan Plains. By Henry W, Herbert, 111. The Rage len Captain; or, THE Sxipprr’s Crivg. By Ned Buntline. 112. Joe Phenix, Private DETscrivE; or, Tue LEAGUE OF THE SKELETON Kurys, By Aiken. 113. The Sea Slipper; or, THE Ama- TEUR F'REERooTERS, By Prot. J. H. Ingraham, 114, The Gentleman from Pike; or, Tue Guost or THE Canyon. By Philip*S. Warne. ' 115. The Severed Head; or, Tur Srcret or Castty Covey. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 116, Black Plume, THe Devi. or THE Sea; or, THE SorceREssS or Heii-Gare, By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, 117. Dashing Dandy, Tar Horspur or THE HILLS; or, Tre Pony Prince’s STRANGE Parp, By Major Dangerfield Burr. 118. The Burglar Captain; or, THz FAuuen Star. By Prof. J. H. Ingraham, 119. Alabama Joe; or, THE Yazoo Man-Hunters. By Joseph EB. Badger, Jr. 120. The Texan Spy; or, Tor Pramim Guipr. By Newton M. Curtis. 121. The Sea Cadet; or, Tok Rover oF THE RIGoLeTrs. By Col. P, Ingraham, 122. Saul Sabberday, Tux Ipior Spy; or, LuLioNA, THE Semtnoum, By Ned Buntline. 123. Alapaha, the Squaw; cr, THE RENEGAPES OF THE BorpER. By Francis Johnson, 124. Assowaum, the Avenger; or, THe Doom or THe Destroyers. By Francis Johnson. 125. The Blacksmith Outlaw; or, Merry Enauanp. By Harrison Ainsworth, 126, The Demon Duelist; or, THE Leacur or Steer. By Colonel Thos. H. Monstery. 127, Sol Scott, THz MAskep MINER; or, Dan Brown's DovusiE. By Joseph E. Badger, 128. The Chevalier Corsair; or, THE HERITAGE OF Harrep. By the author of “ Merle, the Mutineer.” 129. Mississippi Mose; or, A Srron Man’s Sacririck. By Edward Willett. : 130. Captain Volcano; or, THE Man oF THE Rep Revotvers. By Albert W. Aiken, 131. Buckskin Sam,THE TEXAN TRAILER; or, THe BANpI’Ts OF THE Bravo. By Col, Ingraham, 32. Nemo, King of the Trampm; or, Tae Romany Giru’s Vencrance. By Whittabar. 133. Rody, the Rover; or, Toy /rp- BONMAN OF IRELAND. _By William Carleton, 134. Darkie Dan, THz CoLoRED P)RrEo- TIvf; or, THE MississtpPI Mystery. By Ingraham, 135. The Bush Ranger; or, THE Haur-Breep BricapE. By Francis Johnson, 136. The Outlaw-Hunter; or, Rep JoHN, THE BusH RANGER. By Francis Johnzon. 137. Long Beard, THE Giant Spry; or, Happy Harry, THE WILD Boy or tae Wyops. By Ou Coomes. ‘ 38. The Border Bandits; or, THE Horse-Tarer’s TrAw. By Francis Johnson June 15. 139. Fire-Eye, tHE Sra Hymna; or, Tue BRIDE or A Buccaneer, By Col. P. Ingraham. Ready June, 22d, 140. The Three Spaniards. By George Walker. Ready June 29th. A new issue every week. Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of twelve cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York. ta A
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i! f = ——— ae ge ere sot ——- ~*~ 4 “> 1 Deadwoed Dick, tHe Prince or THE Roap. ey Edward L. Wheeler. 2 Yellowstone Jack. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 3 Kansas King; or, Toe Rep Riaut HAnp. By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain K'rederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe, THe YounGa WANDERING JEW; or, PLorrine ror A Legacy. By Oll Coomes. 6 Bill Biddon, Tra pper. By E.S. Ellis. 7 The Flying Yankee; or, THE OcEAN OvT- cast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 8 Seth Jones. By Edward S$. Ellis. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen, 10 Nat Todd. ByE.S. Ellis. 11 The Two Detectives; or oF A Bowrry Gir, 12 Gulliver’s Travel«, B 13 The Dumb Spy. 14 Aladdin; or, THe Wonperrut Lamp. 15 The Sea-Cat. By Captain Fred. Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe, (27 Illustrations.) 17 Ralph Hoy, rset Boy Buccanesr; or, THE Fueitive Yacu?T. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 18 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. 19 The Phantom Spy. By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers; or, DeApwoop Dick’s cE. By Edward L. eeler. 21 The Frontier Angel. By Edward §S. Ellis. 22 The Sea Serpent; or, THe Boy *Rozsrnson Crusoe. By Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o° the Night; or, Tax Boy Spy or "¥6. ae: C. Harbaugh. 24 amond Dirk. By Colonel P. Ingraham. 25 The ote ae ponte By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoot, THe Burrato Demon; or, THE Borper Vuuturres. By Edward L. Wheeler. 27 Antelope Abe, tae Boy Guivg. Oll Coomes. 28 Buffale Ben, THE PRINCE OF THE PISTOL; or, Dkapwoop Dick oy Diseuisg. FE. L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb Page. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, THE RECK- Less RancER. By Harry St. George. 31 Keen-Knife, Price oF THE Praimrms, By Coomes. 82 Bob Woolf, THz BorpreR Girt Deap-Suor. By Edward L. Wheeler. 383 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, THe Rep PIRATES QF THE CARIBBEES. By 8. W. Pierce. 84 Oregon Sol; or, Nick Wuurrugs’ Boy Spy. te ts J. F. G. Adams. B5 ild Ivan, THe Boy CiavupE DvuvaAL; or, THE BrorsEerRHooD oF Drarn. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 86 The Boy Clown. By Frank S. Finn. 37 The Hidden Lodge, By T. C. Harbaugh. j 88 Ned Wylde, THe Boy Scout. By Texas Jack. THE FORTUNES By Albert W. Aiken. Dean Swift. By Oll Coomes. RvuFFIAN; or, THE 39 Death-Face, Tar Detective; or, Lire AND VE IN New York. By Edward L. Wheeler. 40 Roving Ben. A Story or a Youna AMERI- cAN WHO WANTED TO SEE THE WORLD. Marshall. 41 Lasso Jack. By Ojl Coomes, 42 'EKhe Phantom Miner; or, Drapwoop Dicx’s Bonanza. By Edward L. Wheeler. 43 Dick Darling, THz Pony Express Rmer. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 44 Rattling Rube. : 45 Old Avalanche, THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR; or, WILD EpNA, THE GIRL BRIGAND. E. L. Wheeler. Glass Eye, THE GREAT SHOT OF THE WEST. t. J. F.C. Adams. 47 Nightingale Nat. By T. C. Harbaugh. 48 Black John, THE RoAD-AGENT; or, THE OvtT- LAws’ Retreat. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 49 Omaha Oll, THE Maskep Terror: or, DEAp- woop DIck In DANGER. By Edward L, Wheeler. 50 Burt Bunker, THe Trapper. CO. E. Lasalle. 51 The Boy Rifles. By Archie C. Irons. 52 The White Buffalo. By C. E. Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., THE Boy PHENIX; or, UGH TO Dea'rH. By Edward L, Wheeler. 54 Ned Hazel, THe Boy Trapper; or, THE PaAn- Tem Princess. By Capt. J. F. ©. Adams. 55 Deadly ~ Eye, tHe Unknown Scout; or, THE BRANDED BROTHERHOOD. By Buffalo Bill. 56 Nick Whifiles’? Pet. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 57 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, Tur Parps By Harry St. George. 46 oF Fioop Bar. By Edward L. Wheeler. 58 The Border King. By Oll Coomes. St. George, 59 Old ak a By Harry 60 The White Indian. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 61 Buekborn Bill; or, Tae Rep Rruiz Team. By Edward L. Wheeler. 62 The Shadow Ship. By Col. P. Ingraham. 63 The Red Brotherhood. W. J. Hamilton. 64 Dandy Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh. 65 Hurricane Bill, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 66 Singie Hamd. By W. J. Hamilton. 67 Patent-leather Joe. By Philip 8. Warne. 68 Border Robin Hood. By Buffalo Bill. 69 Gold Rifle, THe SHARPSHOOTER; or, THE Boy DETECTIVE OF THE Buack Rancw. By Wheeler. 70 Old Zip’s Cabins or, THe GRERWHORN IN THE Woops. By J. F.C. Adams. 71 Delaware Dick. By Oll Coomes. 72 Mad Tom Western, THE TExAN RANGER; or, THe QUEEN OF THE PRAIRIE. By Hamilton. 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Cauamiry JANE, THE Herome or WHoop-Up. By Wheeler. 74 Hawk-eye Marry. By Oll Coomes. 75 'The Boy Duelist; or, THe CRUISE OF THE ' $es-Wour. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. , 76 Abe Colt, THe Crow-Kitier; or, THE GREAT By A. W. Aiken. OY BRAVO; or, FIGHTING MAN OF THE WEsT. 77 Corduroy Charlie, THE Deapwoop Dick’s Last Act. By E. L. Wheeler. 78 Blue Dick. By Captain Mayne Reid. 79 Sol Ginger, Giant PER. By A.W. Aiken. 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nuaaer Neb, THe Knicur OF THE GuLcH. By Edward L. Wheeler. $1 Lightning Jo. By Captain J. F.C. Adams. 82 Kit Haretoot, Taz Woop-Hawk; or, Op PowbER-FACE AND "His Demons. _By Harbaugh. 83 Rolle, the Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes. 84 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosrsup Ros on Hanp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 85 Buck Buckram; or, Bess, THE }'EMALE Trapper, By Captain J. F. C. Adams, 86 Dandy Bock. By G. Waldo Browne. 87 The Land Pirates. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 88 Photograph Phil, tHe Boy Sieur; or, RosEsupd Rop’s REAPPEARANCE. By E. L.Wheeler. 89 Island Jim. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 90 The Dread Rider. By G. Waldo Browne. 91 The Captain of the Club; or, THe Youne Rivau ATHLETES. By* Bracebridge Hemyng. 92 Canada Chet; or, OLD ANACONDA IN SITTING Butu’s Camp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 93 Whe Boy Miners. By Edward §, Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack, THE Roap-AGENT; Tue Boy Trapper. By T. C. Harbaugh. 95 The Rival Rovers. Lieut. Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch-Eye, THE SHADOW; or, ARABS AND ANGELS OF A GREAT City. By E. L. Wheeler. 97 The Outlaw Brothers. By J. J. Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, THE OvuTLAWED EArt; or, THE MerRryY MEN or GREENWOOD. Prof. Gildersleeve. 99 The Tiger of Taos; or, WiLp Kate, DANDY Rock’s ANGEL. By George Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Lealville; or, A STRANGE STROKE FoR Ligerty. By Wheeler. 101 Jack HMarkaway in New York. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Eye, Tux Boy Sauuaater; or, THE CRUISE OF THE VIXEN. By Col. Ingraham. 103 The Lion of the Sea. By Col. Delle Sara. 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device; _ or, THE Sian or THE Dousie Cross. By E. L. Wheeler. 105 Old Rube, THE Hunter. Capt. H. Holmes. 106 Old Frosty, THE GuipE, By T. C. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim. By James L. Bowen. 108 Daring Davy, THE Youna BEAR-KILLER; or, Tuer TRAIL OF THE BORDER WOLF. H. St. age, 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 110 The Black Steed of the Prairies, A Thrilling Story of Texan Adventure. By Bowen. 111 The Sea-Devil. By Col. P. Ingraham. 112 The Mad Hunter. By Burton Saxe. 13 Jack Hoyle, tur Youna SpPEcULATOR; or, THE Roap To Fortune. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 14 The Black Schooner. Roger Starbuck. 15 The Mad Miner; or, Danpy Rock’s Doom. By George Waldo Browne. 16 The Hussar Captain; or, Tae Hermit or Heit-Gats. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 17 Gilt-Edged Dick, THE Sport DETECTIVE; or, THE Roap-AGent’s DavGnrer. Wheeler. Me Will Somers, tue Boy Derective. Morris. 2 2 or, 9 Mustang Sam, THE KING OF THE PLAINS. By Jos, E. Badger, Jr. © The Branded Hand. By Frank Dumont. 1 Cinnamon Chip, TH# GIRL Sport; or, THE GoLDEN IDoL or Mt. Rosa. Kd. L. Wheeler. 22 Phil Mardy, TuE Boss Boy; or, THE Mys- TERY OF THE StRONGBOW. - By Charles Morris. 23 Kiowa Charley, THz Wire MusranaGer. By T. C. Harbaugh. 24 Tippy, THE Texan. By George Gleason. 25 Benanza Bill, Miner. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 26 Picayune Pete; or, Nicoprmus, THE Doc Detective. By Charles Morris. , 27 Wild-Wire, Boss orrHe Roap. By Dumont. 28 The Young Privateer. By H. Cavendish. 29 Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, THE Guost oF GorGcon’s GuLicH. Ed. L. Wheeler. ae Detective Dick. By Charles Morris. 3 ee ee ee ee ee ee 1 The Golden Handj3 or, Danpy Rock To George W. Browne. By Ed. 8. Ellis. THE RESCUE. B 2 The Hunted Hunter, 33 Boss Bob, THE Kine or THE Boorsuacks: or, THE PAWNBROKER’s Piotr. Ed. L. Wheeler. 34 Sure Shot Seth, Tue Boy Ririeman; or THE Youna Patriots oF THE NortH. By Oll Coomes. 35 Captain Paul, tHe Kentucky MooNsHINER; or, Tae Boy Spy of THE Mountams._ By Clark. 36 Night-Hawk Kit. By Jos. E. ger, Jr. 37 The Helpless Hand. Capt. Mayne Reid. 38 Blonde Bill; or, Deapwoop Dick’s Home Base. By Edward L. Wheeler. 39 Judge Lynch, Jr. ByT. C. Harbaugh. 140 Blue Blazes; or, THe Break o’ Day Boys or Rocky Bar. By Frank Dumont. 141 Solid Sam, THE Boy RoAp-AGENT; or, THE BRANDED Brows. . By Edward L Wheeler. 142 Handsome WHarry, THE Bootsiack Dz- TEcTIVE. By Charles Morris. 143 Sear-Face Saul, By Oll Coomes, 144 Dainty Lance, THe Boy Sport; or, THE Ban«-BREAKERS’ Decoy Duck. J. E. Badger. 145 Captaim Ferret, tHe New York Derec- TIVE; or, Boss Bon’s Boss Jos. By Wheeler. 146 Silver Star, THE Boy Knicut. A Prairie Romance. By Oll Coomes. 147 Will Wildfire, tHe THokovcHBreD; or, Tae Wryntnc Hann. By Charles Morris. 148 Sharp Sams; cr, THE ADVENTURES OF A Frrenpiess Boy. By J. Alexander Patten. 149 A Game of Golds; or, Deapwoop Dicx’s Bia Strize. By Edward L. Wheeler. | 150 Lance and Lasso. By Capt. F.Whittaker. 151 Panther Paul, THe Prarriz Pirate; or, AINTY LANCE TO THE Rescur. J. E, Badger. 152 Black Beas, Witt Wioritre’s Racer; or, Winninc Acarnst Opps. By Charles Morris. 153 Eagle Kit, THe Boy Demon, By Ol Coomes. 154 The Sword Hunters. 4 . Whittaker, 155 Gold Trigger, THE Sport. T. C. Harbaugh. 156 Deadwood Dick _ of Deadwood; or, THe Pickep Party. By Edward L. Wheeler. 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1167 157 Mike Merry, tae Harpor Porice Box; or, Tue Nicut-HawWKs OF PHILADELPHIA. Morris. 158 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, THE TRAPPER’sS Trust. By Buffalo Bill. 159 The Lost Captain; or, THe Oren PoLaR Sea. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 160 The Biack Giant; or, Dainty LANCE IV JEOPARDY. By Joseph f. Badger, Jr. 161 New York Nell, THe Boy-Grkt DETECTIVE; or, OLD BLAKESLY’S Money. By E. L. Wheeler, 162 Will Wildfire in the Woods; or, Came LIFE IN THE ALLEGHANIES. By Charles Morris. 163 Little Wexas, THE YounG MUsSTANGER, A Tale of Texan Prairies. By Oll Coomes. 164 Dandy Rock’s Pledge; or, HuNTED To DeatH. By G. Waldo Browne. 165 Billy Baggage, THE Ramroap Boy; or, Roun to EartuH. By Charles Morris. Wickory Harry. By Harry St. George. Asa Scott, THE Sreampoat Boy; or, THE LAND PIRATES OF THE MississrppPir. By Ed. Willett. Deadly Dash. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Tornado Tomy; or, INsun Jack From RED Core. T. C. Harbaugh. A Trump Card; or, Wit WILprire Wins anp Loses, By Charles Morris. 171 Ebonrfy Dan. By Frank Dumont. 172 Thunderbolt Tom; or, THe WoLtr-HEeRDER oF THE Rockies. By Harry St. George. 173 Dandy Rock’s Rival. By G.W. Browne. 174 Bob Rockett, THe Boy Doparr; er, Mys- TERIES OF New YoRK. By Charles Morris. 175 Captain Arizona, THE Kine Pin or Roap AGEntTs; or, Patent Leather Joe’s Big Game. By Philip 8. Warne. 176 The Boy Runaway; or, THe BUCCANEER OF THE Bay. Lieut. H. D. Perry, U.S.N. 177 Nobby Nick of Nevadaj or, Tae Scamp OF THE SrzrRAS. By Edward L. Wheeler. 178 Old Solitary, THE Hermit TRAPPER; or, Tur DRaGoN oF SitveR Lake, By Oll Coomes. 179 Bob Rockett, tHe Bank Runner; or, THY Roap To Ruin. By Charles Morris. 180 The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow WELL Kept, By Lieut. H. D. Perry, U.S. N. 181 Wild Frank, THE Buckskin Bravo; or, Lapy Lity’s Love. By Edward L. Wheeler, 182 Little Murricane, THE Boy Capratn; or Tur OATH OF THE YOUNG AVENGERS. By ou Coomes. 183 The Hidden Hand; or, WILL WILDFIRE’s REVENGE. By Chas. Morris. 184 The Boy Trailers; or, Damwry Lance on THE WaR-PatH. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 185 Evil Eye, Kine or Carrie THirves; or, THE VULTURES OF THE R10 GRANDE, By F. Dumont, 186 Cool Desmond; or, THe GaMBLER’s Bic GamE. By Col. Delle Sara, H 187 Fred Halyard, rae Lire Boar Boy; or. | THE SMUGGLERS OF THE INLET. By C. Morris. 188 Ned Temple, THe Borprer Boy; or, TsE HUNTER OF PowpER River. By Harbaugh. 189 Bob Rockett, THe CracksmMAn; or, DRIVEY TO THE WALL. By Charles Morris. 190 any Darke; or, THe Ticrers or Hian Ping. By Wm. R. ‘Byster. 191 Buffalo Billy, tHe Boy BuLLWHACKER; or, THE DooMED THIRTEEN. Capt. A. B. Taylor, Ue Boae s” 192 Captain Kit, THE WILL-0’-THE-WIspP; or, THe Mystery oF Montauk Point. By Lieut. Harry Dennies Perry, U. 8. N. 193 The Lady Road-Agent: or, PATEent- LeaTHer Jon’s Drergeat. By Philip 8. Warne. 194 Buffalo Bill’s Bet; or, Tae GAMBLER Guipe. By Capt. Alfred B. Taylor, U.S. A. 195 Deadwood Dick’s Dream; or, THE RIVALS OF THE RoaD. A Mining Tale of “'Tomb- stone.”” By Edward L. Wheeler. 196 Shadowed; or, Bos Rockert’s FIGHT FoR By Charles Morris. ‘ 197 Wittle Grit, tHe Wi1p River; or, THE Stock- TENDER’S DAUGHTER. By Col. P. Ingraham. 198 Arkansaw, THE Man wiTH THE KNIFE; or, THe QUEEN OF Fats’s REVENGE. By T.C. Harbaugh. i 199 Featherweight; or, THE Boy CHamPion OF THE MuskinGuM. By Edward Willett. \ 166 168 169 170 200 The Boy Bedouins. By Capi. Frederick Whittaker. 201 The Blaek Hills Jezebel; or, Deap- woop Dick’s Warp. By Edward Cc Wheeler. 202 Prospect Pete, oF THE Boy BRIGADE; or, Tae Youne OvTLAW Hunters. By Oll Coomes. Ready June 7th. 203:The Boy Pards; MASKs. By Joseph f, Badger, Jr. June 14th. 204 Gold Plume, THE Boy Banpir; or, THe Kip GiovE Sport. By Col. Prentiss {ngraham. Ready June 21st. 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, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York. or, Darnty. Lance Un- Ready