Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 73) (1878 12 17)
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is (tl isa i ry =f a : UUM UT MIMI ‘rt nd ul al nl Copyrighted in 1878, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. " y ‘A. DABR-So rrr EMO =a io\\ Single Number. Vol. IIT. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, Pfice, 5 Cc ents. No. 73. No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. Deadwood Dick on Deck: CALAMITY JANE, THE HEROINE OF WHOOP-UP. A STORY OF DAKOTA. BY EDW. L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF NUMBERS 1, 20, 26, 28, 32, 35, 39, 42, 45, 49, 53, 57, 61 OF BEADLE’S HALF-DIME LIBRARY. CHAPTER‘ I. BARKIN’ UP THE WRONG TREE. ‘Dashing along thro’ the valley and vale, From early dawn till the day grows pale; Into the ‘‘ pockets” framed in flowers— Into the woodland’s shady bowers; Stopping anon by babbling streams, Then carting on into rocky seams; Free as the eagle in its flight wasnt in daylight, happy at t Ever unfettered to roam about— Such is the life of the glorious scout, “Searching for gold in the waters clear, Running a race with the moun- tain deer; Profiting well by the miner’s abuse, Taming with spur the buckin’ cayuse; Paying one’s way, taking no “ slack,” Biting cold lead, and sending it back; Friendly to friends, but deadly to foes, Gay as a robin, hoarding no woes: Such is the life of the scout, gay and free, Such is the life that is suiting to me.” Ox the clear air of an August night these words were dis- tinctly wafted in melodious song—a _ wild, rollicking har- mony of weird music, such as none but a cultivated voice could produce. Mountains have their = ae A - carrying and retaining soun Said ie was long ere the last quivering notes of the mid- summer night’s song had died out. The tone of the singer had been one of those pure in- toxicating rivals of the flute; clear and strong, with power of sustention, and capable of instant modulation to the soft- est, sweetest degree. Even after ¢ e singer had ceased in the song of the gay mountaineer, it seemed as the long gulches and gloomy mountain defiles had me enthused with the glorious mel- ody,and the spectral pines sigh- eda weird peculiar sound as if gm a diapasop accompaniment. the noisy streams and leaping cascades were seem- ingly less boisterous; two men sitting down in the bottom of a narrow winding cafion or gulch, had ceased smoking, to listen to the song of the unknown | nightingale. A little fire was burning in close proximity toa sharp bend in the course of the cafion, and near by was a single marquee of canvas, and a couple of | superannuated-looking mules stretched out on the grass. A few yards to the left toward the bend in the cafion, rolled a wide shallow stream of water, confined in its course by nearly perpendicular walls of rock, that towered aloft in rugged piles until in natural grandeur they termi- nated in misty mountain peaks. The two men al- luded to were sitting upon the bank of the stream and they did not move until the songstress hac eeased her melody; then they looked up and ex- changed glances. “ Beautiful, wasn’t it, Sandy?’ ‘Yes,’ replied the younger of the twain, as he re- CALAMITY JANE. as you looked up | sumed his pipe, his eyes roving out over the nois river, dreamily. ‘“‘I was not aware you had pete. musical stars out herein your mining distiicts. A woman, wa’n’t it?” “Yas, a woman,” replied Colonel Joe Tubbs, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, and refilling it with chipped plug. “Atleast they say she’s o’ the feminine sex, fer w’ich I can’t sw’ar, purtic’lar. An’ ef she’s a weemon, thar ain’t many better 'ukers *twixt hayr, Deadwood, an’ ther risin’ sun,” ‘* What reason have you to doubt that she is not a woman, colonel?” ‘“Wal, Sandy, I ken’t say asI really doubt et, fer I s’pect et’s a solid fac’ thet she ar’ one o’ ther lineal descendants o’ thet leetle fruitful scrape in a certain garden, yeers ago, afore ther Antediluve. But ye see how it is; in the gelorious State o’ Ohio, frum which I war imported ter this side o’ ther hemi- sphere, ther female sex ginnerally war begarbed im petticoats, an’ left ther male representatives te wear ther breeches!” ““Humph!”’ and a little smile came to womens li “then this nightingale w has just favored us, wears the breeches herself, does she?” “You pile up zr chips an’ bet thet She do, Sandy, and ef you warn'’t an Eastern chap. an’ but leetle used ter weemon as we hev in this de- iectable Black Hills kentry, ’'ad say, ‘Sandy, ye galoot, pile yer frunt foot for’a’d, an’ go in fer Janie.’ * “‘Janie—that is her name, eh?” “Wal, I reckon—Calamity Jane for short. I don’t allow thar’s many do know who she is, aside fram her title, Sandy, tho’ she don’t cum no furder off than up in Nevada. She's a brick, Sandy, and jest let et pop right inter yer noddle right hayr, that she ain’t no fool ef she do wear breeches. An’ ef ye ever have occasion ter meet the gal, Sandy, jest remember ther words uv Colo- nel Joe Tubbs on thes ’ere eventful night—‘ Ther gal ain’t no fool ef she do wear breech- “TI will, pardner. I don't suppose use & womal wears male attire that she ig necessarily a fool; though why a female must lower her Sex by appearing in man’s garb, [ see not. She must be an eccentric creature—rather a hard case, is she not?’ witb a little curl of the lip. ““*Hard case,’ Sandy?” anc here the veteran paused to close one eye and blow out » eloud of fragrant smoke: “wal, no, when ye ask m) jedgment in ther matter he’s a woman, Sandy, an tho’ thar’s many who las claim ter that name who ar below par, I don’t reckor Janie ar’ quite thet fur gone She’s a dare-devil, Sandy, an no mistake. She ar’ ther most reckless buchario in ther Hills. kin drink whisky, shute, play keerds, or sw’ar, ef et comes ter et; but, twixt you an’ me, I reckon the gal’s got honor left wi’ her grit, out o’ ther wreck 0’ a young life. Oncet an’ awhile, thar is a story whispered about thet she «ar deserted up at poe ax City,. an’ tuk ter thes rovin’ Ife ter
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——— Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. hunt down her false lover; another thet she hed bin married ter a Nevada brute, an’ kim over inter thes deestrict ter escape hin; then thar’s bin sum hard stories 0’ her up at Deadwood an’ Hayward, but I never b’lieved ‘em, ’case they were ginnerally in- vented by a gang o’ toughs who hed a grudge ag’in’ her. I nevyer b’lieved "em, Sandy, because she war a@ woman; an’ once'I hed a wife an’ little golden- haired daughter—she luked like you, Sandy—an’ I know’d ’em ter be good; thet’s why I nevyer kim ter believe all about Calamity Jane!”’ and the old ner bowed his head on his arm, at some sad recol- ction. “No! no!’ he went on, after a few moments of silence. ‘Janie’s not as bad as ther world would have her; because she’s got grit an’ ain’t afeard to shute ther galoot as crosses her, people condemn her. I reckon ye kno’ how et is, out hayr in ther Hills, Sandy—ef a female ken’t stand up an’ fight fer her rights, et’s durued lettle aid she'll git.” “So I should conclude from what observations I have been able to make, since I came West,” was the reply of the younger miner. ‘Is this Calamity Jane pretty, colonel?” “Wal, some might say so, Sandy; I am not par- tial ter givin’ opinions o’ ther external merits of ther female line, 0’ late years. Hed sum experience ‘In thet line a couple o’ years ago, afore I left An lina, my second, ter come out hayr—war just tellin’ her. how purty a certain widder war, when—well, I never quite knew what struck me, but I finally waked up ter find myself carved up inter steaks, an’ ther ha’r on top o’ my head gone. Likewise my An- > She had sloped wi’ another galoot. Since en I allus withhold my opinion on ther beauty or humblyness 0’ ther opposite sex.” “Well, I suppose you wa’n’t sorry, eh?” observed Sandy, as he arose, with a yawn, and picked up his handsome Sharp’s rifle. **Wal, no; I ken’t say’s I am, sence et turns out thet ther Back Hills affords me more comfort an’ enjoyment than hum uster wi’ Angelina everlasting- ly browsin’ me down wi’ a mop-stick. Whar ye goin’, Sandy, boy?” * Just up to the bend and back, colonel, to see that all is right, before turning in for the night,’’ was the reply, as the stalwart miner strode off, whistling softly’ some tune which was dear to the home in the East, which he had left to seek gold in the Black Hills country. After he had gone out of view in the darkness of the warm semi-tropical night, laden as it was with a strangely intox a. Fan pes of many mountain flowers—for the Black Hills is truly the flower land of America—Colonel Joe Tubbs resumed his pipe, while he gazed thoughtfully out over the nois , Shallow waters of Cajion Creek. ‘‘A mighty good feller ar’ thet Sandy, an’ no mistake, but a queer stick, wi’ all. Now, we've bin consolidated fer a couple o’ months as rds, in a s’arch fer ther pizen they call Id, an’ {don’t kno’ nothin’ about ther chap, ‘cept thet he claims ter hev cum frum New York, an’ ar’ one 0’ ther squarest galoots I ever fell in wi’. Quiet an’ unobtrusive as a crippled cat—hain’t much ov a talker neither; but them ’s often ther kind as hes got a sleepin’ tiger in 'em.” “Why not describe them here?” Colonel Joe Tubbs had well described the young miner, Sandy, when he had said he was quiet anc unobtrusive. He was quiet and unobtrusive—was deep and thoughtful—very seldom in a jolly spirit, though at all times pope: and agreeable. Twenty- four or five years of life which had passed over his head had left a manin shee sense of the word—a man in physical and mental development—a man in willand great force of character—a man so quiet and retired as to seem almost a recluse; yet, when gazing scrutinizingly at him, you could but be im- pressed with the peculiar force of the expression— still waters run deep.” ’ His form was stalwart and iron-cast, with strength delineated to the critical eye in every curve and muscle. His face was plain, yet rather attractive, -with its firm mouth shaded by a heavy yellow mus- tache, eyes of a dusky brown, and hair light and worn long down over the shoulders. A face it was which a lady ~— admire, and a gentleman envy, even though Sandy would not have passed criticism as being handsome. His attire was Se consisting of a buck-skin suit, knee-boots, and a slouch gray felt hat. He wore no belt; no other weapons than his rifle were visible about his person. Tubbs was a short, stubby man, with a genial face, reddened somewhat by lo’ exposure to the sun, and more so, perhaps, by a love for the miner's fa- vorite, “tarant’ler jnice,” especially his nose. He was an eccentric, big-hearted fellow, past the middle age of man’s wordly existence, who had had much experience in the Black Hills, and never laid by a cent, This fact seemed to strike him very mag rcs | now, a3 he sat waiting for Sandy’s return, Sandy was the name the colonel had given the young miner, when they had first met in Cheyenne, in lieu o another which the so-called Sandy had said was not for public ears—nor private, either. “*No, not a durned sum-total o’ one red hev ye laid by, Joa Tubbs, out o’ all ther dust ye’ve handled. An’ supposin’ Angelina shed come back on ye fer support in yer old age? Lordy! whar’d ther ha’r be “Ten, here’s Sandy, too—squarest galoot in ther hills, an’ P’ll bet on’t—thar's Sandy; I orter leave him a leetie mite when, I shuffle off, fer I got a peep at ther poor cuss’s -ket-book, t’other day, an’ ’twar flatter’n a flapjack. Nouseo’ talkin’ ; responsibilities ax’ rollin’ in on ye, Colonel Joe Tubbs, an’ ye’ve got ter clap yer hoof down an’ bid farewell ter tarantler forever. Hello, Sandy, ar’ that ye back a’ready?”’ Dida b “Yes, colonel. *t know but I might see the nightingale, but was disappointed,’’ was the re ly, as the young miner sat down upon a eaing-stock nD = firelight. ‘Guess she did not know of our camp ere.”” “Don’t you fool yourself, Sandy; thet gal knows every krook an’ hoel in ther hull Black Hills proper, an’ can lay her finger on any chap hayr ye kin name, wi’out = trouble. Hello! w’at hev ye got thar, pard?’’—alluding tga small object that Sandy was turning over in his hands and inspecting admir- ingly. “A piece o’ rock that got dislo somehow, up there around the bend, and rolled down in my rae. Out of curiosity I fetched it in. What do you think of it, colonel?’ and with a peculiar smile, the young miner tossed the rock over { Tubbs. ** What! thunderation, Sandy, it’s gold / it’s gold !” and the colonel sprun hastily to the fire to examine the prize. ‘“ Yes, by thunder! et’s gold, Sandy, an’ as big as my fist; durn my ducats ef et ain't. Whar'd ye git et, boyee?—fer heaving’s sake tell me whar? hy don’t ye git excited, Sandy, you galoot? It’s old! it’s gold! Wurth a couple or three thousan’ at east calcylation, Isw’ar!”’ ‘‘No use of getting excited, is there, colonel?” and the miner stretched out with a yawn, “If it’s gold, I don’t suppose it will hurt anybody, and if there’s gold in the mountain side around the bend, it will not run away in affright.”’ “Sandy, ye’re a cool ’un, an’ no mistake. Ye’d freeze ice in fly-time, I do believe, ef ye were not in a kentry thet is next door neighbor ter Jereny etself, Thunderation, boyee, ef I only hed a pint uv stiff old tarant’ler hayr, I’d celebrate over yer dis- covery uv a rich ‘find.’ What shall we name et, Sandy ?—ther place must hev a name right in its in- fancy, just like leetle infant babbys hev.” “Allright, colonel. Call it Satan’s Bend. Some- time we may find a better name.” “Agreed. Satan’s Bend et is, Sandy, an’ but fer the wanto’a st o’ good stiff tarant’ler, we'd hev a gelorious celebration.” After the conclusion of the beautiful yet weird mountaineer’s song, which Joe Tubbs had declared came from the lips of Calamity Jane, a person on horseback descended a dizzy, zig-zig path that led from one of the mountain peaks, to a narrow dark defile, but the matter of a mile or so above Cafion Gulch, and the infant city of Satan’s Bend. “Whoa! Steady, Trick—none o’ yer funny busi- ness, now. Don’t = perceive thet ef yer were to tumble down this declivity with me, there’d be no guardian angel in the Black Hills?” and here a merry peal of laughter escaped the red lips of the speaker. “Steady—a little further—there! Good for you, old fellow! We're on safe footing, at last. I wonder if any one’s around in these parts?’ and the dark eyes peered age Sey every shadow in her imme- diate vicinity. ‘‘ No! Lreckon the coast is all clear, and we must get a-going for Deadwood, Trick, for there is no telling how soon that delightful popula- tion may need us to quell some row, or do a suffering pilgrim good.” We have described the eccentric dare-devil of the Black Hills in other works of this series, but as some may not have read them, it will require but little time to describe her again. A female of no given age, although she might have ranged safely anywhere between seventeen and twenty-three, she was the r of a form both graceful and womanly, and a face that was pe- culiarly handsome and attractive, though upon it were lines drawn by the unmistakable hand of dissi- pation and hard e—lines never tobe erased from a face that in innocent girlhood had been a pretty one. The lips and eyes still retained in themselves their girlish uty—the lips their full rosy plump- ness and the eyes their dark magnetic sparkle, and the face proper had the power to become stern, grave or jolly in expression, wreathed partially as it was in a semi-framework of long raven hair that reached below a faultless waist. Her dress was buck-skin trowsers met at the knee by fancifully-beaded leggings, with slippers of dain- ty pattern upon the feet; a velvet vest, and one of those luxuries of the mines, a boiled shirt, open at the throat, partially revealing a breast of alabaster purity; a short velvet jacket, and Spanish broad- rimmed hat, slouched upon one side of a regally beautiful head. There were diamond rings upon her hands, a diamond pin in her shirt bosom, a massive gold ec sti across her vest front. For she had riches, this girl, and none knew better than she how to find them in the auriferous earth or at the gaming table of Deadwood, the third Baden Baden of two continents. A belt around her waist contained a solitary revol- ver of large caliber, and this, along with a rifle strapped to her back, comprised her outfit, except we mention the fiery little Mexican black she rode, and the accompanying cores which were richly decorated and bespangle ter lavish Mexican tas te. “T guess the coast is clear, Trick, so go ahead!’’ and a jerk at the cruel Spanish bit and an a plication of spurs sent the spiteful cayuse clatter wildly down the cafion, while Calamity Jane rocked not ungracefully from side to side with the reckless free- dom peculiar to the California buchario. Indeed, I think that ay. ee who has witnessed the dare- devil riding of this eccentric girl, in her mad career through the go Hills country, will agree with me = = _ of her sex no peer in the saddle, or on orseback, The first time it was ever my fortune to see her, was when Deadwood was but an infant city of a few shanties, but many tents. ; She dashed madly down through the gulch one day, standing erect upon the back of her unsaddled cayuse, and the animal rurmning at the top of its | _ ecco Se | erect. ees i | sluices and other obstructions—stilt the dare-devil retained her position as if glued to the animal’s back, her hair flowing wildly back from be- neath her slouch hat, her eyes dancing occasionally with excitement, as she recognized some wondering pilgrim, every now and then her lips giving vent toa ringing whoop, which was creditable in imitation if not in volume and force to that of a full-blown Co- mache edanaa ow, she das away through the narrow gulch, catching with delight long breaths of the perfume of flowers which met her nostrils at ye gph t ai of her horse, piercing the gloom of the night with her dark lovely eyes, searchingly, lest she should be surprised; lighting a cigar at full motion— dashing on, on, this strange girl of the Hills went, on her flying steed. The glowing end of her cigar attracted the notice of four men who were crouching in the dense sha- dows, further down the gulch, even as the hoof- strokes broke upon their hearing. “That’s her!” growled peor. SANE the ashes out of his pipe with anoath, ‘‘Reckoned she would- n’t be all ght. ef we ong Bom patience. Grab yer — ae. Poor homes, in * .a¥ Gase*, but the best that could be afforded _ceseus, “.. time meant money to these citizen. ar. w.<ingmen of Whoop-Up, and Rrra Wats te gl ss lat atvens ous} aretine its s rs ms 3 S of quartz, or in ering dues. “colt” nich men even rok death tovobtain-- eered; hold up, you —
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which means murder on the soul of many a man, and dishonor and ruin to many a woman. All these changes we have noted have occurred from the time of Sandy’s first discovery of gold in the caiion, up to the time Colonel Joe stands in his saloon doorway, in company with a stranger, and looks up and down the busy, bustling main street. Yes, and more!—for the mountain side is covered with busy prospectors; here shafts penetrate into its bowels—there, ‘way up a hundred feet above the town, a gang are working night and day, blasting out rich quartz rock, which another gang transports down an inclined plane, by car-loads, to the mighty quartz crushers in the bottom of the gulch. Every- where the Se meets a scene of bustling activity and energetic labcr on the part of those men who toil for goid. - Colonel Joe Tubbs no longer classes himself with the mining element, for as the single ard of Sandy, he is the richest man in the town, of course except- ing Sandy. Upon discovering that they had chanc- od’ upon one of the richest quartz territories in the Hills, the two men had at once gone to work and staked off their claim, including in it over two miles of the cafion bottom, and a great share of the moun- tain side; then when the rush came in a great volu- minous tidal wave, they leased off a larger portion of their claim for high figures, reserving such por- tions for themselves as could be easiest worked and would be most profitable in yield. Sandy's good fortune did not apparently affect him in the least. He worked ten hours out of twenty-four, and was as quiet and undemonstrative as when Tubbs had first met him. , He neither drank, caroused, nor gambled; minded his own business, and somehow contrived always to induce others to mind theirs. He had money—over a half a million of it—but no one, not even old Joe Tubbs, knew where he kept it. The gang of miners who worked in his mine under ree were general favorites with him, and he with em. Tubbs, in the sudden flush of his prosperity had abandoned the pick and cradle and started a “ how- tel,"’ which, with one or two exceptions, was the peck, gee to be found in the ie city of Whoop-Up, and was mez? aagter yer ‘or a post-office on one end of the bar daily and nightly drew a crowd, and the lucky miner who gota letter from absent ones in the “States,”’ was naturally expected to set up the tarant’ler liberal. And in that city of Whoop-Up there were no less than half a dozen different ree every mail- carrying stage line having a different depot for start- ing and arriving, which generally was at some sa- loon or grocery store. Consequently each stage line had its post-office. This was the case in Deadwood, until Uncle Sam put in his say, and now there are but two post- offices there. The stranger, who in company with Colonel Tubbs of the Mastodon Hotel, was surveying the scene upon the long street of the town, had registered himself as Honorable Cecil Grosvenor, of Washing- ton—‘asort 0’ senator, ye see,” Joe accepted, si- lently. He was a short, stout individual, with a well-fattened physique, a trimmed, iron-gray mus- tache, and hair match; eyes of a steely, glitter- ing gray, so cold and peculiar in their expression as to almost make one nervous; a general air of supe- riority over the average, being prevalent in the man’s exterior. These were a few noticeable points, aside from the gentleman's elegant suit of broad- cloth, silk hat, patent-leather boots, gloved hands and gold-headed cane, along with a cluster diamond pin on his immaculate shirt front. While the two men were standing and _ conversing, a rough-looking fellow came along and into the hotel, casting an inquiring glance at the Honor- able Cecil, as he did so, and giving Tubbs a nudge. *Tarant, Joe?” “Go ‘long in,” was the gruff response; ‘‘thar’s a bar inside, wi’ a keeper.” wien the miner passed in, with a strange glitter in is eyes. *Thet old covey must be the pilgrim I want!’ he muttered, ‘‘ and if so, he looks in life like a purty fat lay-out, on wich ter make a spec’. Guess I'll lay low, an’ watch fer him, an’ see ef he knows who Ar- kansaw Alf is.” Outside, Honorable Cecil Grosvenor was speak- ing. za) Yes, it has the Lappearence of being a very lively strike!" he observed, setting his gold-rimmed glasses upon his nose, and gazing up the dizzy mountain side, where, hundreds of feet above, miners were toiling faithfully day and night. “T suppose the place is controlled by corporations and companies, isit not? and there is plenty of land for cash?” “Plenty o’ land, yes, sir; but ther fac’ is, et ain’t sech as raises the a’riferous. Ner ther lodes ain’t mostly controlled by corporations, nuther. When all these Hills war leased off, sar, me an’ my pard, Sandy, we jest about hed ther old cat by ther tail an’ we give the poor man a show fer his money. Et he didn’t hey much, we couldn’t give him much uv a stake, but give him as much as we ked. An’so we ieced et up, wi’out lettin’ one capitalist hev a smell. het’s how mean’ my man Sandy did it up brown, Sandy bein’ a fine éalk later, stranger.” “You did wrong,” ‘Mr, rosvenor said, with a shrug of his b shoulders—“‘ very wrong. One first-class corporation would have paid you more for our entire , by three-fold, than you received rom the poor cusses you leased it to.” ‘““Mebbe yer purty nigh right, stranger; but we pilgrims ain't ginerally hogs, an’ we divide up ekal wi’ ther boys, D’ye remember et, sir, I'd ruther ‘a’ Deadwood Dick on Deck. 3 not got a cent out o’ ther hull business, than to have sold et ter men who'd hev hed et all under three or four piratical pairs o’ fists, an’ wile hoardin’ up their pile, ground ther workin’ men down ter China- men’s wages—' washee shirtee for fivee cents!’ Meb- be ye cum frum out in Pennsylvania, whar they do thet kind o’ playin’, stranger, but et’s most orful sure thet ye ken’t play sech a trick out hyar amon ther horney-fisted galoots o’ this delectable Blac Hills kentry—no, sir-e-e-e!”’ ‘Ha’ ha! ha! you are quite a working-man’s en- enthusiast, Isee, Colone] Tubbs!” the Washingtonian said, with a hearty laugh, “‘ but that is because you are a Tees yet. This man Sandy, of whom you speak I dare say is of the same mind, eh?” “Wal, 1 reckon he ain’t far frum et; an’ as fer bein’ unsophisticated, I reckon thar’s them, an’ not fur away, neither, who's probably got as many rocks ter ther square inch as all yer high-blooded Eastern corporative galoots.” “Oh, yes; no doubt!” Cecil Grosvenor replied, with aslight cough. “I am going down around the bend yonder, to take a look at the town. If any one should call and inquire for me, tell them I will soon return, Good-day, sir.” **Good-day ter ye,” Colonel Joe replied, ingulfing a huge quid, and retiring into the bar-room of his famous “‘ Mastodon.” ‘Et kinder strikes me thet thet ca arte ther pure — *twixt mean’ ther bar an’ ther post, an’ I'd like my man Sandy ter see him, an’ — his jedgment. He hes zot a sharp eye, hes thet Sandy, ef he is quiet, an’ hayr’s what don’t believe ye ken fool him much. Charity Jim, ye = sey, just hand me the brandy, an’ charge et ter Colonel Joe Tubbs, fer et’s a scandalous fac’ thet I heven’t hed more’n a half a dozen decent swigs thes hull blessed forenoon.” James McGee, alias Charity Jim, obeyed with alac- rity, for he knew that he had in all oop-Up no stronger or more liberal friend than the genial, cher- ry-nosed Tubbs. **See hayr, pard, et’s your treat, ain't et, seein’ ’s this ar’ ther furst time we’ve met?” and the miner who had glanced so closely at the Honorable Cecil Grosvenor, stepped up to the bar, just as Colonel Joe was about dispatching a ‘quotation’ from the bottle. * You /”? Joe said, lowering the bottle, and starin at the individual in a mixture of amazement an commiseration. ‘“ You? Wal, now, ef thet ain’t ther concentrated essence o’ cheek, may I be etar- nally banished frnm my blessed tarant’ler! Who are you, pilgrim?” “Wal, sir, old hoss, Ireckonef ye war ter arrange sev’ral letters tergether out o’ ther classic shades 0’ a spellin’-book, an’ pin ‘em ter ther wall wi’ lead punctuation pints, e’d_hev ther cognomenical dis- covery o’ A’gustus Van Horn.”’ **Eh? Van Horn! Van Horn? I don't think I know ye, pilgrim, and I allus make it a p’int never ter swaller tanglefoot wi’ a galoot as I don’t know!” And taking a slight nip at the bottle, the proprietor of the Mastodon returned it to Charity Jim. The man who had thus styled himself A tus Van Horn, was dressed as a miner, and wore a small arsenal of weapons belted about his waist. He was evidently about ik — of age, with a brawny, iron-like form, the limbs especially being large and muscular, and a face that had a villainous and disagreeable expression, so red it was, either from sun exposure or the effects of strong drink. His sensual mouth was shaded by a straggling, grindy mustache, his eyes were fierce and bloodshot and tigerish in their gleams. His hair was more the eolor of the inner side of hemlock bark than any- thing else conceivable, and a deep, livid scar ran from his right cheek bone, near the eye, down across to the corner of his mouth—a scar so hideous in its aspect.as to never be forgotten when once seen. his much of his exterior Colonel Joe took in at a cursory glance, then walked away toward the door, in evident disdain. But the other was not to be bluff- ed so easily, for he stepped a in pursuit, and pid one brawny hand down on the colonel’s shoulder with force. And almost before he knew it, Joseph Tubbs found himself ranged alongside the jon again, and confronted by his villainous-looking tor. **Now, jest yeou see hayr, old hoss!”’ the individual said, ‘get me a drink o’ tarant’ler, an’ don’t be so danged imperdent, or ye might wake up wi’ a hoel in yer constitutional system. Ye see, I war foolin’ ye about my cognomistic appellation, fer ther name I ive ye ar’ foreign ter my ownership. By the ans 4 dia e evever heer uv a chap who hes gained himse f world-wide notoriety in ther Black Hills kentry o’ old, by ther name o’ Arkansaw Alf Kennedy, the houl—the leader of ther Dakota Danites?” “Eh? what?—you that man?’ Colonel Joe de- manded, a strange terror seizing him, for he had heard of Arkansaw Alf, who, with his band of Dan- ites, had hunted more than one victim to the death. Few, indeed, were there in all the Black Hills who had not heard of the Danite devil and his deadly backers. “ Yes, I’m Arkansaw Alf, old man, but mind, ef ye vally yer personal safety, mum's the word ‘twixt a and me. Ef ye dare to betray me to the vigi- ntes, of which you are a member, your doom is sealed. And you know a Danite-doomed galoot ain't noted Fd a ripe old age after our deadly eyes are set upon him. “Ef ye’ll elongate yer ears toward my speaking- trumpet, I'll orate a leetle fer yer perenne eddifica- tion. D’ye kno’ w’at a Ghoul is? Wal, ef ye don't, Webster defines et as an animal thet feeds on flesh— a demon thet feeds on ther dead. We're Ghouls an’ Danites. Ghouls for the reason that we possess many demonistic gifts, an’ ef et cums ter a famine in grub, I opine we would not be dissatisfied ef we SSNS EEE En nn !_ —_—_ had ter chaw away on a leetle human flesh. Dan- ites ar’ we, because as such we were reared from early childhood, under Brigham’s watchful eye, un til, at astill tender age, there war sum thirty aoe | females wanted ter hitch °emselves up in harness us, an’ we warn’t agreeable, so we sloped, an’ sot up in business fer ourselves. Now, I reckon, ye hew more enlightenment on ther subject than any other man in ther Hills, outside o’ the gang, an’ ef yedon’ play snide, your carcass is saved. Keep yer whisky, old man—all I want is freedom in thes ye’re ran an’ silence on yer part. I’m Ya in’ a leetle game, an’ ef ye git obtrusive, most likely a Deadwood un- dertaker will have occasion to visit Whoop-Up on a short notice. Good-day ter ye,’’ and in the next moment the Ghoul had departed. CHAPTER IIL A WAIF THAT SANDY FOUND. WHISTLING a merry tune, a man was descen the mountain on the other side of Whoop-Up. He carried a Henry rifie in‘his hand, or maybe now and then steadied himself with it to prevent plunging down the dizzy decline, while at his feet trotted a large Newfoundland dog, nearly as large as a full- grown grizzly, but by no means as clumsy. The man was Sandy! Looking fresh and healthful after a month in the bracing mountain air, and not uncomely in his pic- turesque miner’s suit; and then fortune’s smile upom him —poee banished his old habitual soberness, and e him a frank and pleasant companion, even though he goseely bore that quite unobtru- sive disposition toward all. Few men in all Whoop-Up’s mile and a half of sin- gle street could say*that they had ever chatted with or pried into any of Sandy’s secrets—if, indeed, he had any, which was extremely doubtful, as he never ete to be troubled with a guilty conscience. e seemed to avoid any unne aera unless he chanced upon some one he particular fancied. None of the women, of whom Whoop-Up had an early and steady influx, ever attracted a sec- ond glance from Sandy—with one exception. There were perhaps two out of a dozen who were honest at heart, and had been magnetically drawn there with the goiden delusion of making money; the remaim- ing ten out of a dozen were generally com of that class found in or mining city or settlement, and classed as ‘‘ doubtful.” We alluded to an exception, and she was a blonde proprietress of a cepuing den and dance-house combined—Madame Minnie Majilton, by name. She might have been classed among the doubtful by some; few knew anything about her more than that she ran the ranch known as the Castle Gar- den, and wore diamonds and silks. To be sure, the dance-house was of ill-repute, simply because the females were not over-modest; but, said some, this did not necessarily make the madame bad. She was a t-looking woman, betweem twenty and thirty years of age—lovely both in face and form—a blonde beauty, such as was not to be found in all the “ye of Whoop-Up. Sandy had met her once, on being advised to ge to the Castle Garden to exchange the value of some ie Ba a, oo <alling having a plenty o e ter which she was i to part with, dollar for dollar's weight. And if Sandy’s pulses had quickened at sight of the beautiful blonde, he was no more than a man— for all men in Whoop-Up worshiped at Madame Minnie’s shrine, and siren that she was, she had not the inclination, if the will, to repulse them for their volunteered admiration. ‘So that it had come, that in passing the Castle Garden on his way to work, Sandy had grown accustomed to nod at the beauti- ful proprietress, who generally stood in the doorway about the time he passed, and on one or two occae sions he had even astonished the town, by stop ping to converse a moment, people nodded their heads and looked wise, Sandy made no point of it, but went on minding his own affairs after his old fashion. And remarkable as it might seem, that individual had yet to come who had made it his business te cross re teieom, miner or force him into a quarrel. The bullying toughs who had any superfluous — to vent upon their fellow-mortals, generally looked in an opposite direction from Sandy, seeming to avoid him as an unhealthy subject to tackle. To-day he had beem on an early-morning hunt for squirrels, up among the beeches and redwoods which grew high up on the very dome of the mountain, and havin agred a full hand of game, was de- scending the declivitous siding opposite the Cation Gulch wherein lay Whoop-Up, in the warm Septen- ber sunshine. r Many times he would have left his footing but for his gun, and at last, wearied by the exhaustion of his tiresome tramp, he sat down upon a beetling ledge of rock, allowing his feet to dangle over the preci- ice. 3 His faithful brute companion crouched — his side, and for many moments the two g upon the grandeur of the wild scene, in which from deep dark defiles at mountains rolled ahd piled up in massive sublimity to such a hight that their aks were swathed in a filmy mist as in cloudland. reat mountains of rugged rock, spotted here and there with chaparral and furze bushes, or peaked with grim, spectral pines. “Nowhere does nature so forcibly illustrate the power of the Divine Creator as in the mountainous regions,” Sandy muttered, as he gazed dreamily off through an ope between the mountain “I sometimes wonder how it is that people do not more devoutly worship God in His works. Ehf Buffalo—” with an approving glance at the great canine, who lay with nose between his paws, hig
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4. —_— Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. ~— = — — = — ——~ eyes shining, and great bushy tail wagging to and fro—“‘do you appreciate the magnificence of our surroundings? o! I hardly think you are edu- cated up to that yet. But something is the matter, and it’s below us too, for I can see you squinting your eye down-hill. What is it, you rascal?”’ A brighter expression came upon the countenance of the dog, and he opened and shut his mouth with a gape and a renewed wagging of his tail, while with one ear cocked forward and one eye half closed, he oe over the ledge into the gulch some fifty feet ow. In this direction Sandy gazed, going over every inch of the ground without discovering anything of particular moment. Then he went over it again, and made a discovery which elicited a startled ex- clamation from him. What he saw was the arm of some person protruding from a clump of furze bushes! A person passing through the defile might have passed it time and again without making the discov- ery which Buffalo’s sharp eyes had made. “Tt’s a human arm, Buff!’ Sandy said, “but we don’t kiow whether it’s a dead person or a living one. Come! let’s go down; but careful to make no noise. Itmay be some one asleep!” Silently the miner and his dog descend into the guich, and creep stealthily toward the spot where the arm and hand protruded from the bushes. And the nearer the on the greater was Sandy’s assurance that the owner of the hand and arm was either asleep, or in the eternal sleep that knows no paper 7 It proved to be the former, when Sandy carefully parted the bushes, and gazed into the sheltered little nook, where a plump, graceful form was lying—that of a boy of eighteen, with a pretty, beardless face. which was so composed and at rest, in slumber, and curling chestnut hair which reached down upon the finely-shaped shoulders. A boy; was it a boy? The form was clad in male habiliments, and there was a boyish look to the finely-chiseled features, | which defied the suspicion of femininity in the sleeper, A plain frontier costume of some coarse cloth, neatly fitting the graceful form of only medium hight; the feet incased in knee-boots of a fine lea- ther, and a Spanish wide-rim felt hat lying upon the grass, were items of the beautiful sleeper’s outfit. Weapons he carried none, outwardly exhibited— yet, here in the depths of the mountain, lying in sweet repose, was the poe! waif—who was it? Sandy asked himself this question silently, over and over again, and Buffalo winked and blinked his es and shook himself, as if he were overjoyed at the result of his discovery. Then, when Sandy’s glance was most admi the heavy eyelashes seemed to unclose with a sta the eyes of deepest, intense hazel were revealed; there was a little gasp, and the form straighten into a sitting position. Terror and consternation were blended in the fair face, and the youth was trembling visibly. “Don’t be frightened, miss,” Sandy said, respect- raising his sombrero and ae her in a kin eer “T would not have intruded, only my dog covered your presence here, and curiosity prompted me to come.” “You call me miss—please don't; anything but that!’ was the reply, in a pained, half-regretful tone. ‘ How came you to know?” and with an ef- fort the waif gained a standing position, and thereby — beauty of the sylph-like form became appa- rent. “*T only surmised, because you did not correspond with your make-up—that is, you see, ma’am, you look too much like a girl to be a boy.” “And yet, I had the vain hope that I could pass myself off without being discovered. Oh! it’s a bit- ter disappointment, sir—a bitter disappointment;”’ and the eyes filled with tears. Sandy gazed at the ground, hardly knowing what to say or do. Here he was,in the presenceof a beautiful young woman, whom he had discovered in her masquerade—a dilemma such as he would never have imagined likely to occur. “You are evidently a stranger in these parts, ma’am; are you not?” “Oh! yes, sir; all this country is very wild and strange to me, and its le are even stranger. You must excuse me, sir, from not telling you of myself—it could not interest you and I should be breaking a secret by telling. If—if I only could dare to hope that — would keep my secret, I would go Pe and maybe I should not be so unlucky in the uture.” “You need have no fear thatI will betray you, ma’am,” Sandy answered, so much compassion in his tone that it surprised even him, who was proof against emotion or excitement. “* Et would be more to my notion to befriend you. wes You see, ma’am, that in these rough mining dis- | tricts, a man's either got to have high honor or none at all. There’s no half-way business; you must be aman or a brute. I may say that I am looked upon as something above the average, though I don’t say it in vanity. Now, though there is a little danger in it, ll tell you what [ll do, and you can aan or refuse at your own option. “Tve got a little shanty down around the bend in Cafion Gulch, where I live—the only board dwelling, by the way, in the mines. Now, you are not fit to knock about here and there. some were to dis- eover you asI have done, it might go worse with hes and if you haven’t any objections in particu- \ T'li take you in as a pard.. I reckon af. mus- tache would make more of a man of you, and you would then muster. You can turn a hand at cooking, and occasionally, to avoid suspicion, can | glance, for he was but ordina pard, ma’am, if you go in with me, you can depend upon it, you'll be sure of at least one friend!” “Oh! thank God, sir; and I thank you, for your words are grateful to my hearing. A friend is some- thing I have not had for many a long day, and I should be more than selfish if I did not accept and et your kind offer. But, sir, there is danger that my identity might be discovered, and then your honor would be compromised.” 7g that you are a woman, and all will go well.” **T will, sir, and wat A God bless you, for befriend- ing one of whom you know absolutely nothing. May your hopes in me be fully realized.” “As I trust they sh Now, as to the future; have you enemies likely to disturb you?” “One only, sir, but he is powerful. Don’t ask me to name him—I dare not; but I will watch for him and steel myself. Oh! I have hopes that he will never dream of seeking me here, this far-away mining country.”’ ‘*Let us both hope so,”” Sandy responded, earnest- ly: “‘and, now, for a name. I will not ask you ge ie you would not care to give it. As me, you can call me Sandy; that is what they all call me. You—let me see;” and the miner reflected amoment; ‘we will call you Dusty Dick—‘ Dusty,’ because of a little dust upon your garments or face, which can easily be arranged. Remember that hereafter we are pards, and only Dick and Sandy to each other, leaving off ‘sirs,’ ‘ma’ams,’ and other formalities which might arouse suspicion. Now, having arranged this, tae may remain here in your retreat, while I go to Whoop-Up. As soon as possi- ble I will return and bring with me such prepara- tions as will effectually disguise you. Will you be afraid to stay alone over night, should I fail to get back to you?” ‘T_T don’t know; it would be very lonesome.” “Well, then, T'll leave Buffalo here for company and protection,’ Sandy replied, and bidding the huge dog remain behind, and shakin hands with his new rd, the miner shouldered his rifle and trudged off around the base of the mountain toward Whoop-Up. CHAPTER IV. SANDY’S PARD—IN A TIGHT PLACE, Anp it came to pass that these people of Whoop- Up did not hear of Sandy’s new pard for several days, after he had been installed in the miner’s new home, and then they only gave the youth but a -looking in his suit of miner’s habiliments; and the little mustache which Sandy had dexterously affixed to his upper lip gave him a much more boyish look. Very few comments were openly passed on Dick, who somehow always managed to work an extraor- dinary quantity of dust onto his hat, face and cloth- ing, and he made bold to go about through the town and was unmolested. He superintended the culinary po, oe et of Sandy’s cabin, and at odd times, when he had noth- ing to do, would go into the mountain tunnel where Sandy and his men were blasting for gold, and look on or maybe lend a bering hand, always waiting to accompany Sandy home ai mapper time; for Sandy was the only mine-owner in oop-Up who did not work his mine night and day. He was content with the golden yield from seven to six—ten hours. And well might he be, for his was the richest claim that had yet been opened, with a vein of the valuable ore that was seemingly inexhaustible. Only one person questioned the young miner con- cerning his new pard,and that was the beautiful blonde proprietress of the Castle Garden, Madame Minnie Majilton. Sandy step into her establish- | ment to get a cigar, one evening, on returning from the mine, and found the pretty proprietress behind the counter in person. “Who is that ge have waiting for you outside, Sandy—the one they call your pard?”’ was the ques- tion put, as Madame Minnie handed out a box of some choice Reinas, which she knew were the mi- ner’s favorites. ‘Rather a young tender-foot to be buffeting about in this rough country, not?” “Well, yes,” Sandy replied, lighting one of the weeds. ‘That's Dusty Dick, my cook and pard—im- ported from out East, somewhere, I don’t know just where. Run across him by accident, you see; took a notion to him and domesticated him. “Ah! yes,” Madame Minnie said, elevati brows archly—* a very fine person, no doubt; you know what I think, San ve ‘* Well, no, I can’t say as Ido—what?”’ “Well, you see, between you and me—and I will assume that we are good friends—I don’t believe you are giving us people of Whoop-Up a square deal, for a man calculated to be as honest and honorable as you—though, of course, I wouldn’t breathe such a word outside, for the world.” . “* Ph?” the miner said, gazing at her in well-assum- her ut do | ed amazement, ‘‘ what is this? Not giving youa square deal? What do you mean? “This, Sandy. I reckon Dusty Dick is no more of a man than I am.” “Dusty Dick a woman?” ejaculated the miner; then he went off into a fit of laughter which seem to convulse his whole frame—such laughter as he had never before emitted since his residence amon the Whoop-Upians. ‘‘ Why, you astonish me. Wai —Dick, come here. Confound it! where has the boy gone? Hold a bit, madame, and I'll bring the bo and prove to you that your suspicions are unfound- ed,’’ and Saady made a move as if to hasten out of doors in search of Dusty Dick. ‘““No! no!” Madame Minnie made haste to inter- pose, almost screaming; ‘don’t! don't, for_the week away in the mines. As I always stick by a | world. Just think how ashamed I should be! Lac- cept your word—indeed I do—only please do not call in the young gentleman.”’ Sandy turned back with a smile, and leaned against the counter. ts y the way, ma’am, it just occurs to me that it would not be more than fair, to ask if you are giving us a — deal, by keeping this rather dizzy an doubtful establishment?” ““Why—why—certainly; but really, you’ll have to excuse me amoment, Sandy, as I see I am wan in the ball-room. Come in some other time, and Pll vindicate myself—come, and bring in your pard to the ball;’’ and then, with a gracious smile and bow, the charming proprietress fluttered lightly away into the adjoining apartment. And she muttered to herself: “ Ah, yes, Sandy, you are as sharp as aneedle, and a clever actor, too, for sucha = fellow, but you didn’t deceive me concerning . Dusty Dick—oh, no; but I won’t give you away—of course not, when youare the only man in the town worth two rows of pins, and the oneI mean to extract a matrimonial offer from, inside of a month. And will I be fool enough to refuse you? Humph! we shall see,” While Sandy trudged homeward along the busy street, smoking his cigar meditativcly. “ That woman is, in the vernacular of the mines, a ‘brick!’”’ he muttered, ‘‘ and likewise as bandsome as a houri, though I am inclined to the opinion that houris are generally brunettes instead of blondes. She is sharp, smart, and has known refinement, heretofore. How she did ‘smell the rat’ concerning Dick! I sometimes wish I had not put myself under such a responsibility; but yet, I hardly know how I could get along without my pard. Such company as hers isn’t bought cheap. If I were to choose fora wife between her and the madame —dash it! I scarce- ly know which I should take. The madame—but, bah! The idea of me talking so spooney!” f= ay he laughed to himself at the idea of such a ng. Near his shanty, at the bend in the cafion, he met — Dick, whom he perceived to be pale and trem. ling. sf Fou overheard the woman, eh?” Sandy said, pat- ting her upon the head in a fatherly way, he some. times indulged in. **Oh! yes! yes! and I never experienced such 4 fright. Oh, am I discovered again, Sandy?” “No! no! pard; the madame sim ty pad an odd notion that I was giving these ites o: oop-Up an unfair deal, but I soon persuaded her out of it.” “T don’t like that woman, Sandy,” Dusty Dick said, slowly. ‘‘She puts me in mind of a panther on afraid she the eve of springing upon its prey. Iam will betray a to the town—and sacrifice your hon- or, which would be worse than all else.” ‘Don’t fear, pard; she hadn’t better play knaves ainst kings, if she knows when sheis well off. Be- sides, should she betray us, one alternative is left.” “What is it Sandy?’ “You. could marry me, and be acknowledged aa ay wife, Dick!” here was a start and a swift, sudden glance, then a trembling all over, as if inas , on the part of the fair masquerader; then she shook her head, gravely, an unusual hoarseness in her voice. “No! not that, Sandy—not that. The alternative would be a pistol shot through my head, for I could never marry you—nor any one.”’ Sandy did not question her further; he had long been aware that she had a secret locked in her breast, but what it was he had not even dared to guess. At the shanty, Sandy had partitioned off an apart. ment for Dusty Dick, with a lock and key toit, and this was Dick’s bed-chamber, while Sandy bunked down in the kitehen—and parlor combined. For a couple of days after the events just related, Dusty Dick was indisposed, and remained closely at the cabin; and having overworked himself, Sandy took a couple of days off for a hunt in the mountai which was very successful, for he each day fetche home any amount of squirrels and smaller game, Elated with two days of success, he started out on the third morning, determined to put in a third day, as he had a good superintendent at the mine whom he could trust, As he was passing the Mastodon, on his way, who should hail him but Colonel Joe, from the doorway, “Hey! hello, Sandy, you galoot! Hold up a bre Durn et, w'at’s gittin’ inter ye, boy, thet ye don’ come around no more? Heven’t forgot your old pard, I hope?’’ “Oh, no; far from that, colonel. I do not drop good friends so easily, but you see, I don’t drink my: self, and therefore don’t find much occasion to visit saloons.” ‘“Not unless there’s a blonde siren behind ther counter, eh? Oh! yeneedn’t try ter stuff me, boyee! I saw ye a few . om ago buzzin’ the madame, n- dy, an’ I warn’t the only one, nuther, “Twix you an’ me, Sandy—an’ ye seem sorter a son to me—I'd adyise ye ter drap thet madame. She's tuk a shine ter that yaller mustache o° your’n, an’ ye ken’t tell w’at might happen. Sum o’ these female critters ye ken’t trust. Thar war my wife, Angelina, fer in- stance. All I hev left ter remember thet dea woman, Sandy, ar’ a bald spot atop 0’ my head, an* a dent in my Yet ear, whar she did sum extra-fina tooth carvin’.”’ Sandy smiled through his eyes at the colonel’s attempt to be facetious. “Don't worry that the blonde madame will ever be anything to mé,” he replied. “ My inclinations don’t run particularly in that direction, But you must ex- cuse me now, colonel, for I’m off for one more day’s# recreation inthe mountains. I'll come around fetch along my new pard some of these evenings.” ve
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, Deadwood Dick on Deck. 5 ee U0aj—a=_—$a“*"=“—~—$—$“$~—>_>——>—>—=—=—~—_$—$™0— O00 cS —_0(( soa —<—— * All right, Sandy; I'd like ter see ther pilgrim, fer they say he’s good-lookin’ fer ther times. But I say, old hoy, hold on a bit; lve got a new card sence I seed you last—a rich old galoot—a kind o’ Senator, or the like, ye see, who pays cash down, an’ won't drink tarant‘ler; kerries his own cham- pagne in a vig Sarytoga!” “Some speculator, I presume, eh?’’ “ Wal, yes; I guess that’s about ther caricature uv ther matter—calls hisself Honorable Something-or other—name’s writ down on a copy-book inside—an’ wants ter b’y out these hull mines. I told him I reckoned you wouldn’t sell, but he sed he’d come around and see you.” “Tell him he needn’t put himself out of the way on account of me,” replied Sandy, as he trudged away, “for I won’t sell.” “Good fer ye, Sandy! Stick ter yer bed as one's thar’s plenty o’ feathers in et, an’ ye’ll eventually grow ter be a rich and influential citizen like my- self. An’ thet reminds me thet I heven’t hed but six good snifters this whole blessed mornin’!” ch recollection caused the colonel to hasten his footsteps toward the interior of his establish- ment, while Sandy continued on his way, accom- co by his faithful Buffalo, and was soon out of afion Gulch—far up among the wooded peaks of another range. “No, I will not sell out,” he muttered; “would you, Buffalo?’ with a glance at the dog. “I am re- alizing a handsome thing out of the mine, and, bet- ter than all, am giving a gang of honest, industrious men of families employment at paying wages. No doubt there are capitalists who would like to step down into the little city of Whoop-Up, and grasp the tyrant’s reins in their hands; but they'll be mightily disappointed when they find that very few or men are so poor but what they can stand firm or their rights.” Sandy was an enthusiast on the labor question, and if the country to-day had more of his make and resolute mind, there would, undoubtedly, be a change for the better, when — man would, in a greater or lesser degree, have an independence, and not be ground down under the heel of the master of money. Sandy was a good shot, and he rarely fired the sec- ond time at the same game. It took but one shot to settle the matter, as a general thing. But, to-day, his luck must have forsaken him, for the day quickly passed and night was creeping on, when he came to the conclusion that he should have to return to town with only a pair of gray squirrels. He was some distance away from Carfion Gulch, and rather than go by a roundabout way, he fol- lowed a sort of natural corridor or shelf that ran around the mountain to the side opposite Whoop- Up. In many places the ledge was very narrow and dangerous; in one instance his feet had just struck upon a sort of plateau, when the ledge he had left caved off, and went crashing down the dizzy moun- tain side hundreds of feet. It was a fortunate escape, but he found that it effectually cut off his retreat. There was no means of getting off the plateau, except “4 dropping a couple of hundred feet into a dark defile below. And the vexatious part of the situation was not lessened when he discovered that he was not the only one on the plateau. For company he had a huge cinnamon et who was just crawling out from a hole in the rocks! CHAPTER V. A MUTINY—HON. CECIL AND THE FEMALE ROAD-AGENT. Deer down in a dark mountain pocket, not three miles from Whoop-Up, where the light of the sun never penetrated, because of the matting of tree- ba which almost met overhead, a camp-fire was brightly burning. The bottom of the pocket was level and of hard-pan rock, covered here and there by patches of moss, upon which a score or more of men in the wild, fantastic garb of rangers were sit- ting or reclining, as the case might be. Others were engaged in playing upon musical in- struments, such as the violin, guitar and flute, and the melody they made sounded weirdly beautiful as it rose and rolled away through the mountains. Now the men strike up in a grand chorus, in some favor- ite mountain song, the air purely rendered by a pair of tenor voices, and the alto, barytone, and deep, thundering bass swelling out grandly with the melo- dious strains of the song. Then there comes a lull, after which conversation takes the place of song. “T tell you what, boys!” said one brawny fellow, who seemed to feel himself a sort of ruler among the others. ‘I tell ye, et ain't half w’at et’s cracked up ter be I'd ruther go back ter ther road again, and pla road-ageut instead o’ regulator. I say it ain’t halt w’at et’s cracked up ter be.” “You had better not pa them opinions afore Deadwood Dick, Barker, ef you don’t want ter swing ter ther handiest limb,” spoke up another. “We'll all agree thet et ain’t half ther fun a-layin’ idle that there is a-dashin’ about in the saddle, but ef we're goin’ ter serve under Dick, we've got ter go and do as Dick sez: thar’s no two ways about that, you hear me.” - “Wal, then, I propose we quit Deadwood Dick, an’ 0 back ter ther road on our own hooks,” proposed the man Barker, lighting his pipe with a brand from the fire. “ Hayr we've bin playin’ pius an’ thet sort 0’ thing fer six months or over, an’ I calcylate we've redeemed ourselyes in ther eyes 0’ the world, no more’n w'en we robbed ther stage an’ made every sky pilgrim pony up. Thar ain’t enny o’ us as €s got rich out’ bein’ honest I kin sw’ar, an’ I pro- pose thet we mutinize.” ‘“*Sh! don’t make so free wi’ talk, Hen Barker, Wt Deadwood Dick shed be any wheres in sight—” **Cuss Deadwood Dick!’’ was the growling, sullen response; ‘“‘cuss him, I say. I ain’t afeard o’ him, fellers; why need you be? He don’t owe us nothin’, ner we him; so why shed we allus stick ter him? Now, fer instance, wile we're layin’ heer idle, fat stages aire rollin’ inter and out 0’ Whoop-Up—two | or three o’ ‘em each way, daily; an’ not a single galoot dares ter tackle ther trail. I say it’s a durned shame, an’ I purpose thet we remedy ther defect. again will make it manifest by sayin’ J/” “TT! “Tr? came in achorus of voices, which em- eo the whole of the crowd. ‘“ Hurrah fer ther road!”’ ‘All right, fellers; then thet settles ther matter. Grab yer weepons an’ git ter yer horses, fer thar’s time to reach the Whoop-Up trail before the even- ing-stage comes along!” -robably there would have been a general stam- pede, only for the step that sounded close by at this moment, and the words brought to hearing in a clear, ringing voice: “Halt! you treacherous fools, halt! The first man that moves toward leaving camp risks death!’ and into the Arelight strode the noted outlaw leader, Deadwood Dick! The old prince of the road who has figured in so many thrilling scenes and strange disguises; the dare-devil young captain who, of all men, had spread terror and alarm through the Black Hills country. He was much the same as when we last left him (in No. 57), in his village among the golden hills; in- deed, time used him lightly, and there were no per- ceptible changes in him. He was still the handsome knight of the hills, and under his new regime had done good, even if he had not freed himself from the bad reputation of having been a road-agent. Now, he stood confronting the score of mutinous | | ugly brute. spirits who had long served under his orders, with a stern fire in his black eyes—those eyes which were so all-powerful in their peculiar magnetism—stood with folded arms and proudly haughty carriage. “Oh! it’s you, is it?” growled Barker, savagely. * Well, say your “4 in a hurry, an’ be quick, fer we're goin’ ter stop ther stage ter-night, an’ make our pile, you bet. We ain’t a-goin’ ter be held in un- der no one’s heel, in purtickler, but lay fer luck, an’ shar’ ekal.”’ “You are a fool!’’ Deadwood Dick said, in a con- temptuous tone. you are not worth the trouble. you—I denounce you all as mutineers, and you no longer are pards of mine. have not done with you yet. pay the penalty meted out to deserters. hen, with a strange laugh—his old, startling laugh, that hadso much import in its meaning, the ex-road-agent chief turned on his heel and strode away into the darkness, leaving behind him a group of staring men. “Ye heerd w’at he sed, b’yees?’?’ demanded Bark- er. ‘I motion thet we take the cuss an’ hoist him to alimb!”’ To this all agreed, and a general stampede was made in search of Deadwood Dick. Which was fruitless, for the young chief was not to be found. From that night, the Black Hills country of gold was once more thickly infested with outlaws and road-robbers; no stage drove through the cafion trail without receiving a visit, and it was dangerous for a man to be abroad at night if he was known to have an ounce of gold about him. The cessation of road robbery that had followed the reign of Deadwood Dick and his Regulators, was now almost—in a day it seemed—superseded by a reign of crime and utter disregard of the law. Dead- wood, Hayard and Custer each established vigilance committees, and a reporter for the leading Dead- thought her dead and under ground long ago, and here, in all probability, she has turned up to devil me again. a! I thought so,” he concluded, draw- ing rein, as a female rider wheeled a large horse out of a sharp bend square across his path, and eee nee to his view an outstretched arm and nd containing a shining revolver. “Halt! that’s right!’ exclaimed “a clear female f | voice, which caused the Washingtonian to start in Them in favor o’ slopin’ back ter ther old bizness | ** You deserve to be gibbeted, but | Go! every one of | But, look out for me! I | Every one of you will | Beware!” recognition, although the figure upon the horse was clad in black and deeply vailed. ‘I didn’t hardly expect you would dare come out here and meet me, when I had the letter dropped in the Mastodon House post-office; but I thought it would be well enough to come and see. There! there! don’t at- tempt to draw a weapon, for you know I’m reckless, and would just as lief shoot you as not.” ‘“*By Heaven! can this be you, Marie?’’ the Honor- able Cecil managed to articulate, interrogatively. “Can it be possible, when I have all these years mourned you as dead?” “I reckon it’s I, old rig! ape fl was the cool as- surance. “There! don’t let me warn you of the danger of reaching toward your vest pocket again. It is I, or all that a matter of six years left of me, after roughing it in the world I was cast upon.” “Then, I thank God,” said Honorable Cecil, with an attempt to do the devout. ‘Put down the pis- tol, Marie, and let me come forward and welcome you back.” “Bah! don’t be a fool, old man!” replied the strange horsewoman, with a sneer which also re- sembled a chuckle. ‘I don’t want any spooneying or foolish acting on your part. When but a young girl, I married you at my dying father’s wish, be- cause you were one of the leading stock and bond gamblers in Washington, worth your half a million or more. The first year, I found you out to be an The second year you developed into a first-class savage, and finding my life with you unen- durable, I pocketed your loose change, and, in the vernacular of the mines, I sloped / took pity on you; you never heard from me again until last night, when you received my note to meet me here. Your name remained spotless in Washington, for a horrible railroad accident occurred about this time, and a few mangled remains of your wife were brought home and quietly interred. Am I not de- tailing facts?” “Ah! very true: and I mourned—” “Bah! you ¢ ah Se shut up your lying! won’t go down your humble servant’s throat, What brings you out here, sir?—some villainy, I'd almost swear.” “No, indeed, Marie. I am very poor of late years, and came out here to try and retrieve what 1 have lost in disastrous speculation.” “You lie, old man. You own two among the finest roperties in Washington, besides having half a mil- ion’s worth of secured bonds, and plenty of other wealth. Isay you lie!” “You = x plain, woman—shockingly plain for a woman who figured as a belle in London society.” “But oh! so true, Cecil Grosvenor. You know I never deviate from the blessed truth. Isaw you the day you came here to Whoop-Up, and instantly it occurred to me that you would be perfectly over- joyed and willing to loan me some of your wealth—”’ “Never! never! you she devil!’ the capitalist cried fiercely, now nearly beside himself with rage, “Not one penny of mine shall you ever touch.” “ You forget, Cecil!” was the reply, in a provok- ingly cool tone. “Just gaze into this tool I hold, | and realize-the discomfort contained in the six load- wood City paper got up an editorial, something after | this pattern: “TncREASE Of Crime.—It has reached us that the once notorious road-agent, Deadwood Dick, who of late—with his men—has been playing Regulator, and waging war against ruffianism, is at last dead and under the turf; and, now free from his control, his whole great band has again taken the trail as road- agents, all over the Hills, and pandemonium ensues. Peace to Dick’s ashes; but we should have wished him a longer stay with us, as he seemed to hold the controlling power of legions in his hands.”’ On this same day that Sandy had gone a hunttng, only to be caged by accident in with a huge cinna- mon, the Honorable Cecil Grosvenor was riding along through Caiion Gulch in its northern course, beyond where settlement and Whoop-Up civilization had pitched its line of white tents, and beyond even ed cells, These poor ‘sells,’ too, to encounter in the hands of Mad Marie, who is pretty widely known as a woman sbootist.”’ “How much money do you want, curse you, to keep yon quiet?” “Oh! knowing that you never go empty-handed I'llitake what you have in your pocket-book, and | that diamond pin you so proudly display upon your where the miner's pick or the prospector’s staff had | yet reached. On either side the cafion walls rose rugged'and nearly perpendicular to a great hight, and close to the western side the shallow waters of Caiion Creek gurgled noisily. A trail ran along the eastern shore which had been made for the daily stage to Deadwood, and it was bounded on either side by thickets of various shrubs and chaparral. “The-Man-from-Washington,” as he had been im- rap cg 4 nicknamed by the Whoop-Up-ites, seemed in ill humor to-day, for he vented unneces- sary spite upon his horse, and kept a sharp look-out on either side, as if expecting some one. <A dark | yelled, as immaculate shirt front. Come! don’t be offish now, but put the pin in your wallet, and drop it on the lot of grass there by the roadside; then turn your ace about and return to Whoop-Up!”’ “You shall pay dearly for this, you virago!” the Honorable Cecil gritted, as he complied with her re- quest. “Ill have my revenge—I'll hire some one to take your life.” “Of course, dear, I expect nothing else; but I shall not go to sleep with both eyes shut. I formed a habit of sleeping with one eye Open, ere I left you, lest you should try to murder me some night. That's right,’’ as the man hurled the wallet upon the grass. “Ah! you have a watch and chain, too, I see: but I won't be so mean as to deprive you of aii your gaudy adornments this time; so now, I guess you may go.” “Curse you!” The-Man-from-Washington fairly 1e hesitated to go. “You shall die for this outrage, you—”’ “There! there, you old loafer. Don’t hurt your tongue in addressing me with the idea of f rightening me, for I’ve heard men who could lay way over you at sw’aring. Go, now, and if any one tells you ou’ve lost your pin and purse, tell them Deadwood ick’s men robbed you. Don’t for the’ world let any one know that a weak woman played road-agent to you. Go, now, I say. If you want me, drop a letter to Mad Marie, in the post-office at Joe Tubbs’s Mastodon, andT'll seize my penin a vise-like gras | toanswer you. Adieu! my pistol covers you until scowl hovered about his eyes and forehead, and he | | speculator headed his horse back toward the mining appeared to be unusually nervous. ““Ourse the luck!” he growled, biting at the ends of his mustache, and glaring about as if he would like to annihilate some person. say! Who could the woman be, if not her? I “Curse the luck, I | you are out of sight.”’ With oaths breaking from his lips, the defeated town, and spurred away in hot haste, followed by @ mocking laugh from his tormentor. “A thousand devils overtake the she fury!" he | gritted, in the white heat of his rage. “I'll hire some
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6 Beadle’s Half-Dime ruffian to hunt her up and cut her throat, even if it costs me a small fortune. She is getting cunning, but has triumphed over me for the last!” CHAPTER VI. A CONFLICT WITH BRUIN. ae guide was a situation few men could wish to con- nt. There he was safely imprisoned upon the plateau, with the positive assurance that he must enter into conflict with the huge cinnamon bear, who was crawling out of a sort of cave in the mountain side, with growls that were anything but music to his ear. Since coming west Sandy had never chanced upon anything of the bear kind, and knew as little about them as the school-boy at home. After crawling out upon the plateau, the huge brute squatted upon its haunches for a few mo- ments, and surveyed Sandy in evident contempla- tion of a fine feast, while Sandy stood still in his tracks, utterly at loss how to act. Gn reflection— fora man can reflect a great deal in a short space of time if occasion demands—he doubted if his forty- four-caliber rifle would do any service in an attack against bruin, for the reason that he used short car- tridges with a small charge of powder, while it takes a heavy ball (77 grs. of powder and 350 grs. of lead) to ruccessfully shoot either a grizzly or a cinnamon, Very few men can kill a grizzly or cinnamon bear in nt running shots as it is, with the long 45 car- tridge. Sandy had learned this in conversation with old hunters, and consequently concluded that either his rifle or revolvers were useless, and, if used upon the brute, would act only to stimulate his fury, while oe? did no particular harm, e accordingly drew his knife, and edged out into the center of the plateau, nearer to the ugly brute. He had no desire to be crowded off from the plateau into the abyss below. As he advanced the cinnamon reared upon his hind legs, and came on, with a flaming desire ex- pressed in his eye. Sandy braced himself, and stood upon his guard. Heknew it must be a strug- gle between life and death, and he set his teeth to- ether in a firm determination to sell his life as dear- as possible, Buffalo, his huge Newfoundland, had been left be- hind, beyond where the ledge cayed off. With his assistance in diverting the attevflon of the great brute, the attack might have been more equal. On came the monster, with his frightful jaws dis- fended, nearer and nearer, and then Sand. a forward, and struck a blow into the animal’s breas which proved effective, inasmuch as it started a flow of blood. Unfortunately, before he could dodge, the miner received a tremendous slap from one of bru- in’s paws, which sent him reeling half-way across the plateau. He still was possessed of his senses, however, and turned to meet the maddened animal. Instantly drawing one of his Smith and Wesson revolvers, Sandy fired, in rapid succession, six shots into the gaping wound which he had cut with his knife, then dodged and ran to the other end of the lateau, flushed and excited. Something in the fight fad an enticement and charm for him, although he was confident that it was not the slap he had re- ceived on the side of his head. The bullets had et ewe the huge brute, and the blood was spurt- ing from the wound in a sickening stream; yet he came lumbering back again with a roar that seemed to jar the very plateau—came on with furious rage and frenzy depicted in the hairy countenance and the pinkish eyes. ong drew his other revolver and stood firm, a new light in hiseyes. When the brute was but three yards off, he fired two shots, with unerring pre- eision—one bullet into each eye of his ponderous enemy. With a fiercer roar the bear rushed on, with blood streaming from his eyes and totally blinding him— rushed on, straight off of the plateau, and went erashing helplessly down into the guich far below. € Good enough! I couldn’t have t it myself. I was just getting ready to dispatch the brute myself with my Winchester rifle!’’ exclaimed a voice, an Woking up, Sandy beheld a face peering down at him from a ledge far above. ‘‘Reckon you got rid of him just in time, for it would soon have been too dark for straight shooting.” “TI suppose so. Anyhow,I am not sorry that I disposed of the brute. How’s a fellow to get out of this—do you know?” Sandy asked. % —_ Ican give you some assistance. I'll lower one end of my lasso, and if you are good at climb- ing, you can get up here, from where I can guide you safely down the mountains!"’ was the reply, and then the face withdrew from sight, and directly one end of astrong, but slim rope was lowered to the plateau where Sandy had fought and killed his cin- namon. Slinging his rifle to his back, and securing his re- yolvers in their places, Sandy seized the rope in his gras , and up he went with the agility of a true imian, soon pulling himself upon the eiee above, where stood his rescuer, and the dog, Buffalo. “Calamity Jane!’’ he ejaculated, involuntarily, for inthe features of the stranger he recognized a des- eription he had obtained of the noted young female dare-devll. ‘“* At your service, sir!’’ was the reply, with a cool thugh.. “You stare as if I were something quite different from the ordinary mortal.” ““Ye-s, ahem! excuse me!”’ and the miner stam- mered and blushed in confusion. ‘‘ You—you see, ? 4 heard so much concerning you, that I—I really wus surprised. You will pardon me, and—”’ “Ob. ves; you bet yerboots! But ‘twixt you and Library. me, pardner ha did remarkable execution in that b’ar fight. I don’t b’lieve thar’s another galoot in Whoop-Up as could do the job in quicker time, or more scientific manner. Didn't get nary a tear.” “No! I had a remarkably lucky escape,” Sandy replied, marveling, even while he spoke, at the wild beauty of the girl, of whom the men of Whoop-Up told so many strange yarns. ‘I escaped with only a cuff on the side of my head.”’ ** Which did you more gone than a pint of medi- cine. It aroused the fight in you. It’s all the medi- cine a man wants to brace him up.” “You discriminate between the two sexes, eh?” “Certainly ; men need a slap and women a slight to wake em up, Anyhow, that’s my logic. Shall if conduct you down the mountain, or can you go it alone?” “You can guide me if you will, and take the bear for your pay.” “Agreed. Give meacinnamon to corn away for winter chawin’. What's your name, pard?”’ ‘““They call me Sandy, here in the mines!’’ the miner replied, following carefully in the steps of the girl, as she began to descend a zig-zag mountain path, “What! ye ain’t the chap w’at helped old Joe Tubbs find thes streak o’ gold range, are ye?”’ “If Iremember correctly, I was the first one to find a nugget.” ‘Well, you’re a brick. Joe was tellin’ me about you. Got a pard, I believe?” ‘“Yes—Dusty Dick.” “Like myself, a girl in male attire!” ‘What makes you think that, pray?’ “T know it!’ Calamity Jane replied, with a chuckle. “Tt doesn’t matter how I found it out. I don’t blame you for protecting the girl, nor her for ac- cepting your protection, and all may go right until discovery becomes general. Then, come you-unto me; | may oint out to you a way out of the mire.” “ You?” Sandy demanded, incredulously. “Yes, I. By the way, let me warn you to look out for breakers ahead. You cannot see them. I do not know in just what shape they are going to come, but come they will, a “*How do you know? at have you discovered likely to endanger me?”’ ‘* That's my secret. If I were to tell you, like as not, by some blunder, you'd bring yourself into double peril. Now, you cannot comprehend my words, hereafter you will. lll keep an eye out, and don’t ye fergit it.” “Treckon I can look out for myself, ma’am,” Sandy said, with a spice of independence. “Ah! here we are at Cafion Guich, now.” ““ Yes, and here I will leave you, as you can easily find your way now. Good-by, and look sharp around you!” Then the girl dare-devil suddenly turned, and was lost in the gloom, while Sandy trudged wonderingly along into the wide-awake town of Whoop-Up. “Exceedingly strange, and wonderfully beauti- ful,” he muttered meditatively. ‘‘ Hers is a magnetic beauty that attracts; the madame is fascinating, in a voluptuous sense; little Dusty Dick is the most quiet and womanly; yet around the trio there hangs a mystery in each case, and the long and short of it is, I’m getting interested with the whole. Well, well, if I can’t take care of myself, I ought not to claim a right to the name of man. Dick T have with me; Madame Minnie will not bother me, if I keep away from her; and Calamity Jane—well, I can’t deter- mine much about her.” Neither could any one else in all the rough socie in which the eccentric girl had for two years mov as a “bright particular star.”’ Sandy went home, and found Dusty Dick sitting in the doorway of their unpretentious shanty, engaged in picking at a guitar, which had been one of the miner’s gifts. “Ah! is that you, Dick? How have things gone —- absence?” “About in the usual channel, Sandy; a couple of duels above here in the street, I believe, and con- Serta work for an undertaker, had one been ‘‘Humph! itis strange that such a warfare must constantly rage betweeu fellow humans, isn’t it? If all got along as well together as you and I, Dick, I don’t think there’d be many deaths and crimes to answer for.” ‘Very true, Sandy; but there’s your supper await- ing, inside. 1 got hungry and ate mine.” ‘That's right, pard; never starve yourself in wait- ing for me, for there’s no telling just what minute I may arrive. Ah! the odor from that antelope-steak is really like the smell of the promised land, after a fellow has been a-hunting and slain his maiden cin- namon b’ar.”” “A bear, Sandy?” and the beautiful eyes of Dust, Dick gazed up inquiringly, calling a pleasurable flush to his brown cheek. “ Well, yes, that’s what I said. You see,I and a big cinnamon got into a disagreement about our re- spective rights to a certain mountain plateau, and, after his boxing me severely on the right ear, I tum- bled him off into a gulch and teetotally smashed his bruinship. ek a somewhat larger load than I felt disposed to tote home, I surrendered his carcass to Calamity Jane, who chanced to be near.” } “ That strange girl, Sandy, whom the people talk so much about?” “Yes, the same,” ‘Is she pretty, Sandy?’ ‘“ Well, yes, in one sense of the word; but life here in the Hills has—well, has ruined her prospects, one might say, for she has grown reckless in act and rough in language.” “Yet she may have a true woman’s heart under ~e her rough exterior, which is as susceptible to love o pain as a woman of careful behavior.” “Truly spoken, little one, but she could not ever arouse half the adoration for her in my breast, that I bear for you,” the miner said, an honest light glow- ing in his eyes. But he regretted the words the next moment, for they brought such a pained expression over the features of Dusty Dick. “You should not talk that way,Sandy. You for- get that [am only your pard—more I can never be.” ‘** Enough said, Dick; I did forget myself, but_ will curb myself in the future. But get ready, for I am going to take you around to-night, to see the si hts; I must do it to throw off suspicion. Calamity Jane already knows your disguise. “She! How, a ae “T give it up. She knows, nevertheless, and will keep mum, J take it. Do you feel like playing your part to-night, in good shape?” ‘*As well to-night, perhaps, as at any other tima I have mastered some of the vernacular and bra- vado of the mines, and will do as well as possible.” Sandy finished his supper, and fed Buffalo enough for any two men; then took his revolvers, cleaned and reloaded them, and thrust them into his belt. Usually, unless going on a hunt, he never wore them outwardly dis played, but something prompted him to have them handy to-night. Dusty Dick always wore a — revolver at his waist, and despite the general feminine terror of fire-arms, he was no novice at a shot. When all was in readiness the two left the cabin, accompanied by Sandy’s inseparable companio: Buffalo, and debouched into the single, long, crowd street of the town. It was about half after eight in the evening, and all places of business, of a score of various natures, were peeanty lit, and the street was a strange and wild sight o lights and surging humanity, from one end to the other. CHAPTER VIL. SANDY AND THE *‘ HONORABLE,” ““Here! we wiil stop into this ee where they play keno and faro. You can take a peep at the animal,’”’ said Sandy, and they accordingly entered alarge roomin one of the shanties that lined the street, and found themselves in 2 bar-room, gaming- perio: and dancing-hall, all combined in one thirty y forty apartment, under one roof, Here were a long bar and many tables, at which crowds of long- haired men were risking and losing; further on was a music-stand, beyond which a couple of sets, com- gues burly miners and roughs and gaudily dressed emales, were dancing. ; After loitering about for awhile, Sandy signified his intention of departing, ‘ But jet’s have a little something at the bar first, to say we've patronized = place. What ‘ll you have, Dick?” in a louder one, ‘‘Let out ther sherry wine for me, ye galoot!” Dusty Dick replied, ranging himself along the bar, and addressing the barkeeper. ‘Hurry up yer stumps, or I'll get over thar an’ grab a hold o’ ther ribbons myself.” The bottle was quickly forthcoming, and Dick swallowed a few drops of the wine, which was a wonderfully pure article to be found in the mines; Sandy took soda for his. Then the twain left the place, and sauntered toward Colonel Joe Tubbs’s ‘howtel,”’ at the upper end of the street. Here a motley crowd was collected in the t bar-room, for the mails from Deadwood rock the East had just arrived, and many an er, apxious —— was looking for a letter from the dear ones at ome. ‘‘T reckon there’s no mail for me,” Sandy said, with a grim smile, ‘for the simple reason that there are no dear absent ones in my case, you see.” ‘Nor need J look for letters, either,’ Dick re lied, sadly, ‘“‘for none of the friends of my child- ood stood the test. Ah! who is that remarkable. looking peeeae at the other end of the room?” Ly tes that’s the dare-devil, Calamity Jane. Don’t be afraid of her, but act your part if she comes up.”’ Although Colonel Joe was busy at dealing out “pizen’? to a long — of red-shirted miners, he found room at the bar for Sandy and Dusty Dick. “ Hello, Rep you hoss! range up alongside hayr, in ther stall. Got yer along too, eh?” “Yes, Joe, this is Dusty Dick, my - Dick, Colonel Tubbs, one of the oldest inhabitants.” Bh Bo soagy sg acknowledged by a hearty ndshake. ‘a to notice the smallness or softness of Dick’s hand ‘“You may give us a couple of sodas, Joe,” Sandy said; ‘“‘you know we don’t take anything stronger. Will you join us, seeing this is the first time we’ve met since this morning?” 2: Bandy, b’yee, ye bet yer boots I will! Why, it’s a scandvlous fac’ thet I hevn’t hed only sixteen real good-sized snifters since dinner. Twenty is my reg- lar rations.” “You'll get the ‘jims’ if you don’t stop drinking so es al a behind ‘ “Aha! Sandy, there’s where ye are er mark, I’ve got a cast-iron tank. inside 0’ me, ries et’ll take years ter fill up wi’ pizen. I’m good fer ter eek a bar’l look sick any day, an’ don’t ye for- it it.’ “T believe you, Joe. You seem to stand it pretty well, all except that your nose—that is giving you away.” 4 “Better polish it off, an’ sell it fer a colored meer- schaum, old man!”’ put in Dusty Dick, as they turn- ed away. Not being in a pommey, Sey stood leaning against € bar-room. Sandy puffing differ- the wall at one side of t ; away at his cigar, and both idly watching th ent faces around them. Miners came in and applied for mail, and woe be to the purse of him as was s@ -
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: i | | Mw fortunate as to get a letter, for he was calculated to eall up all of his acquaintances, besides treating the “ post-office,” which embraced Colonel Joe and t assistants. A man is conceded to have no honor in Whoop-Up if he cannot “respond,” after being blessed with a letter from the “ States.” “Do you see that villainous-looking rough, who is sitting over there, Sandy—the one looking this way?” Dusty Dick asked, a out no less an individual than the Danite-Ghoul, Arkansas Alf Kennedy. “Oh! mercy, he has seen me motioning, and is com- ing this way. What shall we do?” ‘’Sh! or you will betray yourself. He won’t do anybody harm, I reckon. Put on your ‘cheek’, an’ bluff him!” It was evident that the Dakota-Danite was in high dudgeon, for he came striding up with a bluster and a swagger, his eyes blood-shot from the effeets of the whisky which scented his breath. “See here, younker!’’ he cried, addressing Dus- ty Dick with a fierce oath, “‘I wanter know who ye war p’intin’ at, over that d’rection? Do I owe ye an , or d’ye want to make my acquaintance?” “Get out, you galoot!” Dick replied, independent- ly; “I reckon ye was lookin’ this way first. What you blowin’ yer b’iler-head off fer?” “Tl show ye, mighty quick, ye little cuss,” the Danite replied, reaching for a weapon; but before he could draw one, the muzzle of Sandy’s revolver was shoved within an inch of his reddened nose. ** Hold up, poe rer i was the miner’s calm advice: “T reckon ye better be sure o’ yer game before ye raise your If you ain't desirous of ogetting salted down for winter use, you'd better peg along in another direction, pretty lively.” *“ Whoare you 7’ Arkansas Alf demanded, with a snarl. “They call me Sandy, fer short, sir; for long, I measure five foot ten.” The Danite turned away with a frightful string of oaths, and then Sandy nodded to Dick. “Keep watch of that fellow, pard, when he’s near noah, Damepencts He has a bad name here in the S. “ Whois he, Sandy?” “Arkansas Alf, the Ghoul, they call him. He’s about as bad as they make ’em, they say.” The two pards soon took their departure from the saloon and returned to their shanty. To their com- bined astonishment, they found the door unlocked, and on entering, found a light burning in the kitchen anda man sitting before the bed of coals on the hearth, idl en aie the strings of the guitar—a manof medium hight, with a handsome form and fr: epee en face, and such eyes as neither Sandy nor D. = : had ever gazed into before—dark, brilliant, magnetic. eé was attired in gray, fashionably-cut clothing, with a diamond pin upon his shirt-front, and a sill hat upon his head. bi! your pardon, pilgrim,” he said, arising and bowing, as both Dust ick and Sandy stopped short near the door. ‘‘ My intrusion here may seem unpardonably bold, but I have a paper here, which {trust will explain all; and he extended an en- veloped note. Sandy took it and stepped to the light, at the same time oe Jit open. x Humph he muttered. “It is from Calamity Jane. So it was, and written in a neat, wo han with the following result: meee per * ‘Mr. Sanpy: Please keep this gentleman in your ranch until he chooses to leave. He will pay’ you liberally, and you will confer a great favor on me. He is Deadwood Dick, the ex-road-agent, supposed by everybody to be dead. Yo etc., *OaLaMity JANE.” “ Well, well!’’ Sandy muttered, with rather a grim smile, “that girl certainly does not lack for assur- oe So you are Deadwood Dick, eh?” turning to stranger. - ‘“‘Atyour service. Calamity let me in here, with the word that it would be all right, as I wanted aodging une morning. If, however, t am in your way, l'llseek elsewhere—”’ : Perfectly welcome sir, if you can accept of my accommodation. There’s my cot yonder—I’ll fix me up a bed on the floor,” AE heared pardon, but you will let me lie on the floor, as | am eo more used to it than P in} after a rough life of two years in the heart of the gold country. Please retain your own cot, the same as if I were not here.” It was accordingly so arranged, for Deadwood Dick would have it no other way; but rolled up in a blanket and lay down near thedoor, Dusty Dick re- tired to and locked himself in his own room, and Sandy stretched himself upon the cot without un- dressing, This was nothing unusual with him. When he awoke in the morning, at sunrise on the mountain tops, Dusty Dick had breakfast already on 6 table. “Hello! where’s the road-agent?” Sandy asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, and s g about, “Gone, an hour ago!’’ Dick replied, dishing up the meat and pouring out the coffee. “Sandy, he was a handsome fellow,” “‘ Well, yes, I suppose some would call him hand- some. I've read of him, and they say he’s a wild customer.,”’ “ He didn’t appear so. He was dressed more after a civllized fashion than any one I’ve seen here yet.” ‘Didn't fall in love with him, I hope? The poor fellow has already been bored by love-sick maidens, and then, too, he’s married.” “ Ah! is he?—Then I'm sorry!” was the reply, ac- sompanied by a roguish litt] “ Come! your Sreakfast will be getting cold,” vom te } So Sandy ate of the tempting repast, and betook himself off to the mines, whistling merrily in the course of his walk. In rounding the bend in the caii- on, he a ran against ire pep Cecil Mara venor, who was returning m an early mor walk for his health. Both men came face to face—then each leaped back as if stung by an adder, their eyes bearing a light of recognition. ** You, Cecil Grosvenor!” Sandy exclaimed, grow- ing a shade whiter than was his usual color. “Yes, Sandy!’ was the reply of the Washing- tonian, who seemed to be the least surprised of the two. ‘‘ You see I address you by your western title; in some respects it is better than your Eastern name!” “How do you mean?” the miner demanded, haugh- tily. ‘My name was never a reproach, in my East- ern home. Indeed, it was always spotless until—” “Uncil certain complicated circumstances made it necessary for Nees to put a considerable distance between you and the place of your birth!” finished the speculator, with a bland smile, as he gazed tri- bees! at the miner. “You needn’t jeer!’ Sandy replied, with self- command, “for I donot fear you, nor the whole world, With the crime of that one act put upon my shoulders, Iam no murderer /”’ “What! You do not rt that J am one?” the Honorable Cecil demanded, hotly. “Beware how you word your address to me.” “Tf you see yourself my words you certainly must be guilty,” was the calm reply of the miner, “In- deed, everybody said that you did in reality murder your first wife by ill-treatment and abuse. Your second left you, I hear, doubtless fearing that she should follow the first to the grave.” “Oh!” the speculator said, with a sigh of relief, elated that the case was made out no stronger; “as to that, you merely dealin idle eproeees, with no positive proof. I hold astronger hand against you, if you remember.” ‘I defy your power!” Sandy said, with set teeth. “Tf you have come out here on purpose to fight me, we will see how the fight is to come out in the end. Remember, I shall not move to get out of your way this time—not a step.” “‘T suppose not, but I daresay you will be ready to pay liberally to be let off!” “Not a cent, Cecil Grosvenor—not a copper will I give you; so go ahead, and do your worst.” “But, listen, man: you have established yourself among these miners as an honest and reputable citi- zen, and have made your oe of money, from all that lcan hear. How would it affect your financial or personal standing to know that you are a—”’ “Stop, you old villain—never speak that word in my presence, or I will kill you, if it is the last thing I do. Remember!” and stepping to one side the miner strode on along the route to the mine. Grosvenor stood looking after him until he had gone from sight; then kept on toward his hotel, a evilish expression upon his face. “That man must die!’’ he muttered, under his breath—“die and never come to life again. Curse him, he makes me feel uncomfortable when he gazes at me, and yet I know of no power he has over me. Few know that I came here out of poe spite against him—that I came to put him out of the way!” He strode along, his brows knitted in a dark scowl, and his mind busied in a villainous scheme. Just as he came opposite Sandy’s cabin, he stopped stock still in his tracks, and gazed in through the open doorway, as if he was struck suddenly with paralysis, a curse brea. from his lips, in a gasp. Dusty Dick was standing in the kitchen, busily en- ed in } Lower | Ae 4 the dishes, and did not notice e-Man-from- ngton, who, after a moment’s sharp survey, passed on up the gulch, a strange light upon his sinister face. “Heavens! I can vet, hese the sight of my eyes!”’ he gritted, seeming to shake with a new emo- on. “She here, and in Sandy’s cabin? It is the last = on God’s footstool I should have looked to find her. Ha! ha! [ have both the birds within my reach—yes, three of them, counting Marie. Curse the woman—she always was an e to me. I wonder how I shall a aed my hand all around, and play it successfully? may cost me hundreds, but I shall in the end gain thousands. Yes! yes! it was a lucky day, after all, that set me down right among the game I am hunting!” CHAPTER VII. A NEW CANDIDATE—DEADWOOD DICK AGAIN. Anovut this time, the depredations of the road- agents and outlaws of the Hills became greater in A anf and boldness of action. They gr so bold as to dash into the very outskirts of the town and commit their robberies, and this so aroused the ple of Whoop-Up’s single-streeted city, that they swore dire vengeance on the marauders. But, they had done this before, and yet had not even killed an agent in revenge for the spoils that had been taken or ter Borie that troubl he chie at were troublesome around Whoop-Up were the deserters of Deadwood Dick’s band, now under the leadership of the ruffian, Bar- ker. The agents had given the high-sounding title of Eagle Claw, and by this he became known wane Ae On the day which had seen the meeting between Sandy and the Honorable Cecil Grosvenor of Wash- ington, a gang of the outlaws had dashed boldly into the town, and, after firing a score of shots, had frightened off a crowd, then robbed a store, and got off, unmolested. An hour afterward, a crowd of miners were col- lected in the street outside of Joe Tubbs’s saloon, eagerly disgussing the eutlook, Deadwood Digk on Deck, Y “TI tell ye, feller-citizens!’’ Tubbs himself cried from the top of a handy stump; “thar ain't no use 0’ talkin’ about perseverance or prudence bein’ a vartue. Hayr we eable an’ underonstrative citizens 0’ Whoop-Up’s sublime sphere hev bin out- raged ag’in, right in broad daylight! I say et’s a shame—er gol-durned reproach ontcr our handles as honest men. I propose thet we dropether Vigi- lance movement, an’ resort ter Regulation—put some man at our he’ds, an’ devote our hull time wipin’ out these dasted road-agents. Them’s my sentiments, an’ I propose the crowd treat me fer ther beauchiful suggestion so timely brought before ther investigatin’ committee.” But even though the worthy colonel proposed, the crowd were not isposed ; they were excited after “ther road-agents.”’ “T second old Joe’s motion concerning ther Regu- lators!” cried another man, a miner, who had svuf- fered several losses from these gentlemen of the road. ‘‘ We're all ready, every one 0’ us, ter take up ther trail o’ vengeance, but we want a man ter lead us. Whar’s ther man as sez he will?’’ There was a momentary silence; then a new- comer in the city of Whoop-Up stepped forward into the ring. * Feller-citizens,” he said, with a glance around, “if you’re agreeable, I’ll accept o’ ther offis!”’ And as assurances that the crowd were agreeable a shout of “ hurra!l”’ went up from a hundrr throats, seemingly. Ready were the miners to go, with some one to head them. The candidate for election was a man of but me- dium size, evidently, but a peculiarity of wearing more clothing than necessary upon his person, made him look broad and burly. At least four suits of serviceable woolen clothing wore this new chief of Regulators, with stagy knee-boots upon his feet, and a battered-up hat upon his head. His face, with the exception of the nose, was covered to the ears with a luxuriant growth of reddish beard, and a mass of hair of a like hue fell unkempt and matt on his shoulders. His eyes were sharp and bead- like in their glances, and altogether he was a re- markable looking personage. HE stood leaning upon a rusty-looking rifle of large bore, and gazing calmly into the sea of faces around him. “ Hurra fer ther new Regulator!’ yelled Colonel Joe from the top of his stomp. ‘1 say, you galoot, w’at mought yer name be?” “Tt mought be ’most anything, I reckon, pilgrim,” was the grim response: “but it ain't, ef ther old eclipse knows herself. -I suppose it might be prac- ticable to call me Buillwhacker, ef ye’ve no objec tions.” “‘Hurra! Bullwhacker it is then,’’ replied Joe, “Now, then, capting, jest choose yer galoots, an” lay fer these road-agents—d’ye heer? You'll hev te? excuse me a few minutes from ther debate, gentle men, ef ye please, for it’s a scandwlous fac’ thet f heven’t hed but six good solid snifters this hul! blessed morning.” And Joe made for the Mastodon as if his life de- ey oy upon his getting to the bar in a stated num- r of seconds, @ was an odd onc on the ludicrou> side of human nature, yet despite hislove for stim- ulating drink, was a genial, good fellow. Old Bullwhacker, the newly-elected chief of the Regulators, soon became a a. light in the mi: - ing circles of pa Be e was jovial and eccer- tric; had plenty of cash with which to treat his men. and was just the one fit to command. Where he hed come from, or who he was, aside from _his ruce eer: nomen, no one knew; nor were they liable to fi. J out by his telling. He selected for his use ten men aside from hitn- self, and armed them with Winchesier’s 45 calé bre rifles, which were got from Deadwood, ai. the Regulators were in working order. But it wes some days ere there was any occasion for them to exert themselves. The road-agents, under Eagio- Claw, had suddenly become quiet, and there were i.¢ new reports of marauds by them. Bullwhacker, however, had his men ever near ar @ under strict discipline; he never moved but thes were near at hand as a sort of protective boc, — Although he had never manifested any pe. icular disposition to being what the world of th« country of gold calls “ fast and tough,”’ Bullwhacke was pretty generally regarded as a custom © to tackle, ry by a certain class, was feared. Be had such a slow motion at one time, and was «- rapid when case demanded, that it gave him an as pect of being ever ready, no matter what the emer: gency. The golden days of September rolled along in th< town of Whoop-Up, as in a peculiar dream of excit- ing pleasure, People thro: the street, and filled the places of business both by nit and by day, The mountains continued to yield rich produciions of gold; and silver lodes too were found in places. Shafts and tunnels were being pierced into the moun- tain side, all the way from the bottom up toward the misty tops, and ore was blasted out and Jowered to the gulch bottom in inclife plane cars—or, «s in’ one case, by large buckets from a mighty crane, managed by mule power. Everywhere were sounds of busy industry in one Babel’of noises—the crushing sound of ore-breakers, yells of mule-drivers, the shrieks of steam whistles, and the ring of axes far up the dizzy mountain, all peculiar to their locality, yet distinct from the sights and sounds of the long street of the Te growing town. Everybody had the fever; it was a poor cuss whe couldn’t reap a harvest now, thought the excitui people. All along the stage routes to the tow, eager, hopeful miners were prospecting; may where they would pass over, some speculator we usd stake off his claim, report gold in paying quantitics hoodwink some fresh arrival—generally known ac &
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i H i t 8 **tender-foot’’—and sell him for a big figure what was in reality but a barren rocky waste. If you got cheated, you must put up with it with all the grace of a saint, unless you wanted to fight it out, and then, like as not, you'd get the worst of it; for it wag all in the mines and among the mining ele- ment, where law, personal respect, and charity to- ward mankind, were literally a dead letter. No stage came in or went out without its load of either expectant or disgusted passengers, and thus the population was an ever-moving one, and the people hat composed it a spice and variety of humanity, And as one day rolied by only to merge into another, Sandy kept on working in the mines, the same as he had before he had met the Honorable Ce- cil Grosvenor in the gulch. He went armed, how- ever, for he knew this Washingtonian well enough to suspect that some attempt would be made through his instrumentality upon his life. Dusty Dick had not seen the speculator except at a distance; and since then had kept closely to San- dy’s shanty, but never mentioning to the miner the cause of his sudden seclusion; for this strange crea- ture whom Sandy was harboring was an enigma whose secret was closely locked in her own breast. If she had recognized a foe in the Washingtonian, she spoke not of it. Evidently she had not recog- nized him. Calamity Jane came much to the cab acgeely when Sandy had returned from his work at night She was kind toward Dick, in a sisterly way, often dropping her a feminine offer of exchange of confi- dence, which the mysterious waif would not listen to. Shewas wholly up to her character—no longer a female even among her own sex. With Calamity Jane it was different in that she eould be equally sociable with male and female. She was witty, well-educated, when she chose to drop the rude vernacular of the mines, and altogether a pleasant companion. At least she had a faculty of being able to cheer Sandy out of the blues, when.he had them; and it came to the anxious notice of Dusty Dick that noth- ing but a dawning love could alter Calamity’s rude bearing of old into the pleasing woman of now; she was learning to love Sandy! Sandy !—well, Dick entertained no anxiety toward him in this respect, for she knew it would be useless. Sandy was one of those eccentric freaks of human nature that might love ‘“* And love o’er again,” without the world becoming wiser for it, by studying m. He held his emotions in a firm grasp, and control- led them—smothered them back as a general thing out ef sight of human observance. Even Dick could not read the miner’s feeling toward Calamity, but believed that he entertained a respectful admiration for her. Somehow, since they had been together, the young pard had grown to expect things, which all the time she knew would be impossible, of Sandy —to reserve him as hers alone; and a sensation of un- rest and anxiety filled her heart at every visit of the rl dare-devil, although she knew she had no right to or one moment entertain a loving thought of the stal- wart yellow-haired miner. Whether Calamity had a keen sense to perceive this it is impossible to'say; but, as the days rolled by, though the girl’s admira- tion increased for the miner, she tried to screen it when in the presence of Dusty Dick. Maybe her woman’s instinct taught her that it was but natural for a woman to love a noble, handsome man, and that other hearts than her own could be so pierced by Cupi’s shafts. So Dick was finally avared some of the heart pain and anxiety; but the sharp eyes of the young pard could not be blinded to the truth, for all that. Houorable Cecil Grosvenor stopped Calamity one day asshe was walking through the gulch. ‘Hold up!” he said, approaching with a pompous stent), “T. wish tospeak with you, my dear young y. “Got out!’ Calamity replied so sharply that. Mr. Grosvenor leaped back a pace—‘ none ©’ your en- dearing epithets to me, you old buzzard... Say your say, and move on; my time amounts to business.”’ ‘Ou! it does,” replied the speculator, réaching into his pocket for a well-filled wallet; ‘ then let me pay you for answering a few. words,” “ Put back your money, ye fool, I ain’t acceptin’ hush-money.’ “All right; then answer me what I want to know. Is Deadwood Dick, the noted outlaw, dead in reality?" ‘*Spect he is; leastwise that’s what the Deadwood papers say.” * But are you sure? Is there not. some place where I could leave a letter so that it would reach him?” “Well, [don’t just know about that, old man, I don’t know w’ether they’ve got a stage line runnin’ ap ter whar Dick is, or not. Might give me yer _word, an’ I mebbe cansstrike on an angel who will kerry it up;’’ and the girl laughed coolly. ‘‘Reckon Dick won't do you any good, though.” : * Oh! that’s to be found out,’ the Washingtonian replied grimly.‘ Here’s my letter to him;’’ and he handed her a large business envelope, which had already been sealed. ‘‘ Give that to Deadwood Dick, and I will pay you your price. Good-day to you.” Then his honorship turned and strode on up the ch. The meeting had occurred infront of Madame Minnie Majilton’s dance-house, and the blonde pro- rietress was Standing in the door. When Grosvenor ad departed, C: ty heard her name called, and Jooking around saw the madame motioning to her. “Well, what is it?’ she demanded, approaching the entrance to the dance-house, and regi the esharply. ‘*What d’ye want?” “T want to advise you,’’ Madame Minnie said famili- arly.‘‘ You haven’t got a very honorable name among the men; do not make it worse by associating your- self with such men as that ‘blood’ whom you were just talking with. He has no more scruples than a wolf, and should his eye fasten particularly on you, he’d brook no expense to accomplish his villainous aims. ‘Look out for such as he.” ““ Why ?—do you know him?’ Calamity asked, gaz- ing after the portly form of the Washingtonian, as it was receding from view up the street. “Yes, slightly,’ Madame Minnie replied, with a cool laugh. ‘‘He came into my place here, and I showed hi went!” “T presume so,’’ Calamity replied, and turned | away, going up the gulch-cafion, as it ran north. “That blonde is either a deceitful traitress, or a respectable woman,” she muttered; “I wonder which?” She kept on up the gulch for a couple of miles, then paused by a ledge of rocks that formed the caiion walls, Gere she slipped the letter she had received into a crevice, and then retraced her steps toward town. That same evening, while the Honorable Grosvenor was sitting in his room at the Mastodon Hotel, he received a visitor—a rough-looking old codger, bent in back, with a mass of hair “pee is face and head and a perceptible limp in his gait. He hobbled along with a cane, an rather a forlorn aspect. ‘Hello! who the deuce are you?” the speculator growled, looking up from his paper. “‘What do you want?” “Sh!” was the reply ‘not so loud, if you please. Iam Deadwood Dick /”’ CHAPTER IX, THE WASHINGTONIAN PLOTS AND PROPOSES. “Ou!” the Washingtonian said, rising with an in- stant change of countenance from displeasure to blandness; ‘‘I mistook you for some beggarly va- oe All because of your shabby appearance, no oubt. Pray be seated.” The visitor accepted the invitation by dropping upon the sofa, and producing a cigar and lighting it. “You wrote that you wished to see me on im- rtant business,’’ he observ gazing straight at is honor with his penetrating black eyes. “I got the letter out of my post-office a short time ago, and came to see what you could poseny want of me.” * Ah! yes; ahem! I am glad you came; but, pray. how am I to know that you are in reality Deadwooc Dick, the road-agent?”’ * By accepting my assurance. presen I don’t generally unmask in such close quarters, or I might be able to | prove my identity by revealing my face.” “In which case I should be as ignorant as ever, having never seen you to know you heretofore. But, let that drop. I accept you as Deadwood Dick, so let’s come to business. You are in need of money?” “Well, no, not particularly. I realize about five thousand a year from mining interests which I own, and that sum keeps one in loose pocket change.” * But, you would not hesitate to add to your wealth, if you could do so by doing a little work of an un- picaonit nature—especially to a man of my stamp. ou outlaws do not hold life in the same regard as we—well, we of the East, of the better class.”’ ‘Well, that depends somewhat on circumstances,” Deadwood Dick replied, coolly. anything we generally pay him in our kind of change; don't go into bankruptcy to cheat them out of their dues. So you call yourself one of the upper ten, do you?” * Ahem! yes, I suppose that would be the proper name for it—am from Washington, you see, where a man must either be an aristocrat or anobody. Gros- venor is my name, and I represent a large amount of bonded and other wealth, besides being the presi- dent of a leading bank.” “ Exactly; but you see, this don’t interest me, par- ticularly. The objective point is, what do you want of me?” ‘“‘ Listen. and you shall learn, There is a young miner in this town of Whoop-Up, who is in, my way, and I. want. quietly removed. His name is Sandy, the door with the point of a bowie. He | “If we owe @ man | “Yas, I reckon thet’s about ther size _o’ ther mat- ter!’ Arkansas Alf replied, grimly, as he stretched himself into acomfortable seat wpon the sofa, “Sit down, sit down; don’t stan’ thar starin’ like a ghoul. I want ter talk ter ye.” The speculator sat down, first, however, bringing out a bottle of champagne from a huge Saratoga, and setting it upon the center table with goblets. ‘* Now, go on,’ he said. ‘Precisely,’ Arkansas Alf replied, scratching his | chin, a sharp, wolfish gleam in his eyes. ‘‘In the first place I calkylate ye’re a fellow from Washing- ton, wi’ a name suthin like Grosemeyer, or—”’ ‘““Grosvenor—Honorable Cecil Grosvenor, at your service, sir.”’ “ Yas, I reckon thet’s about it. Once upon a time ye heda pard up whar ye lived, who stole a haul o’ money, an’ lit out fer parts unknown,” i A | yes—Jake McOmber, eh?” ’ “Thet’s the galoot. Wal, Jake cum West, an’ we met an’ got ter be pals. Jake cuts a weazand now ‘’n’ then; [am known as Arkansaw Alf, a Ghoui—a | Danite o’ thes wicked land o’ Dakota. You wrote ter Jake about comin’ ter meet ye heer, eh?” “Yes, and gct no answer.” “Wal, thet was because Jake war down sick, so he sent me and my boys over inter ther Hills, heer, ter look after yer case,” ° ‘* Ah! capital. I was just trying to make a strike with a road-agent, named Deadwood Dick, but he was too sanctiinonious for ay purpose,”’ “What! Deadwood Dick a/ive and in Whoop-Up?” the Danite exciaimed, his face growing tigerish in expression, and his eyes evilly gleaming. eri tu “Yes, here, lreckon, <A fellow in clever disguise, calling himself such, just left as you cameup. So you are ready to serve in my behalf, eh?” and the speculator drummed musi upon the table, “Yas, I reckon so, providin’ ye’ve got plenty o’ tin, and will shell out liberal. I’ve got two ter help me, and we kin do most any thing in the way of sendin’ off sinners on a long pilgrimage, or | knockin’ over weemin, or—" “Oh! you'll do, no doubt, if you are any thing like: the Danites I’ve read of. What would be your price: —well, say to take a woman and strangle her, and. let her be found in a conspicuous place, dead ?"’ ‘“*Wal, thet depends sumthin’ on her size, weight,. -—-- and fightin’ capacity. We atten adeliex send offa * ollars. female in furst rate style fer ** Enough said; I'll give a hundred dollars to at-. tend to the case properly. Then I have another. woman for you to hunt up and annihilate. I'llt | double my offer on her, when she is dead. Her name: | here, I_believe, is Mad Marie. Then there is a man: whom I wish disposed of.” ‘* Phew!’ the Danite said, witha detonating whistle: of surprise; ‘‘ you're right in fer layin’ up treasures,. mat § you? al, name yer subjects, and I'll go’ ter | wor dy ‘Not just at present,” the villainous speculator said; “Iam not quite ready yet.. When I am I will let you know. ou can easily be found, I dare | say.”? You bet, w’en thar’s any sech a lay-out!” the ruffian replied, rubbing his hands together in devilish | delight. ‘‘ You’ll generaley find me fer ther lookin’ down below. Ain't 7” goin’ ter treat afore Igo hg “Yes, help yourself; it’s the prime article, you'll find; and the Danite evidently did find it so, for he drained the bottle before he arose to depart. * Nothin’ more ye wish, now?” “No, nothing; you can go. WhenI need youTll | hunt you up;” and then the Dakota Danite took his departure. “Ha! ha!” The-Man-from-Washington exclaimed, | as he ‘heard the outlaw descending the stairs: | “things are at last working into my hands just as I wish. That fellgw is a tool that can be used repeat- edly without resharpening, so long as he is fed on | whisky andmoney, Sandy’s pard—curse her; she a first, and then he shall feliow. I won- er—" He did not finish the sentence, but pulled on his gloves, donned his hat, and. descended to the street, | cane in hand. » Lighting a cigar, he sauntered down | the busy street, and finally fetched up in Madame Majilton’s establishment. he madame was behind the bar, engaged in shak- and you can easily find him, as. he is very popular— | ing dice witha dirty miner, and was looking most lives in a cabin a few rods around the bend. You care not for life, aslong as you get money; a pistol bullet, rightly sent, will. do the job, and you shall have—well, say fifty dollars.”’ : i ns se Dick, in his disguise, arose with a quiet augh, “No! thet ain’t my lay-out, old rascal!’ he said, bowing his way toward the door. ‘“ Good-day to | you: when you have any more such jobs to let out, ust give ‘em to some ruffian, which I don’t claim. to | . ‘The man Sandy shall be properly warned to be | on his rd; again, good-day, sir!’ and in a minute | more the road-agent had glided from the room. ** Devils sake the man!’ the Honorable Cecil cried, | springing after him, to find him gone. “It seems ia have been misinformed concerning the fellow. He | don’t do that kind of business, eh, and will inform | Sandy? Well, just let him, and—hello! who's this rough-looking customer coming up the stairs? Ha! | an idea! Maybe he’ll serve me!” The individual he had reference to was the Danite- | Ghoul, Arkansas Alf, and he followed the specula- | tor into his rooms, without a word, having evidently intended a visit. Once inside, the two villains, so opposite in per- sonal appearance, confronted and gazed at each other for a moment in silence. “Well,” Grosvenor said, interrogatively. “I cal- culate you must have intended paying me a visit since you walked im without invitation on my part?" | Washington—Honorable Cecil | excess of champagne. royally beautiful in a suit of silk and lace, with dia- monds at her throat and pendent from her ears. | Her blonde complexion. made her ever fresh and lovely looking, and then her superb form greatly saat her personal beauty. he looked up with a slight frown as the Honor- | able Cecil entered, and leaned against the counter. “Well, what do you want now?” she demanded, in a tone that was not particularly inviting. Have you come here to insult me again?” : ; “Hardly! was the reply, with a bland smile; “I deserved your scorn then, no doubt, for I was in an; No doubt you've been there’ yourself. 1 will step into the next room and be seat- | ed; when you are at liberty, Beye join me,” i Madame Minnie bowed, and the speculator passed on into the next room, where she soon joined him, after cheating a miner out of the drinks, ' She seated Sweatt a deal table separating her fro the Washingtonian, and supported her chin between the palms of her hands, as She gazed at him keenly. There were diamond rings of great value upon her fingers, and the loose sleeve falling back to the elbow revealed a round fair arm that was perfection in it- self, ‘** You are the most beautiful woman I ever met!’” Honorable Cecil exclaimed, involuntarily, carried away by the power of her charming presence. ‘‘And that leads me to what I was going tosay. I am from. Grosvenor, at your w - Laan
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service. I represent a po deal of wealth, and I have no wife—no heirs all my vast estates. My life is devoid of any sunshine whatever, not having afemale companion on whom to lavish my bound- less affection. You are a beauty and can be refined —would make a resplendent star in the Washington social world—a reigning belle among belles. How fancy you the picture; how would you like to marry me, and let me take you into a paradise of love, wealth, social distinction, and luxury?” and the speculator stopped here, and gazed admiringly at the beautiful woman in front of him. As for Madame Minnie, she leaned back in her chair and laughed so boisterously, that the Honor- able Cecil began to feel uneasy, and got red in the ace, ‘You old fool!” she exclaimed, by an effort con- trolling her merriment, ‘*do you ots ym I'd give up this glorious life here for the sake o ren my- self in the social miseries you depict? No! a thou- sand times, no! I know of all the delights you pic- ture, but they don’t tempt me. In Washington you have well-clothed, gold-enamored dummies; here, in the mines, though ofttimes rudely dressed, you ean find men. The difference is, Washington is a re- fined hell, with nothing but imps and devils for in- habitants; Whoop-Up is arough Paradise, with now and then a sprinkling of angels.” ‘‘Ah! you look on the wrong side, my dear mad- ame, CannotI prevail upon you to accept? I would give my thousands for such a glorious creature as ou—’ ve Enough! I would not bind myself to such a man as you for your whole weight in diamonds. I know something of life after ‘roughing it’ solong. There is only one man in all the world whom I would for a moment think of marrying!’ ** And he is—?” “Tt little mattersto you, who. He is handsome— a quality you cannot boast of—and is all that is no- ble and generous. Such a man I have it in my heart to love—no other, be he king or millionaire, sir.” “That man lives in Whoop-Up?” “Since you are so inquisitive, yes.” BS think I know to whom you refer—he is called Sandy, here.” L “You are a pretty straight guesser, old man!’ Madame Minnie replied, lighting a cigarette, and puffing away with the utmost composure. ‘The man b Sandy. But, for instance, how would you like to take a bride into your Washington soirees with a cigar in her mouth, and a bottle of tarant’ler juice enter her arm for sickness? That’s the way I always travel.” “Oh! that would never do; you'd have to be train- ed, of course. But, this man Sandy—do you know what he is?’ “No; and I care not what his past has been: his resent is irreproachable. Anybody will tell you t. +] at. “Probably, but present good behavior cannot blot out or atone for the past, you know. Between you andme, Madame Majilton, that man Sandy is a forger, and a felon—a murderer /” f ; : “Sandy a murderer? I do not believe it, Cecil Grosvenor. He is no such a man as would mur- der.”’ “ But, there’s where you mistake. He is outward- ly a gentleman; inwardly, a demon.” ee would run my chances in taking him, for all a Sa ‘“Humph! and find yourself in a tiger’s nest. Be- sides, you could not get him—he has too exalted; no- tions concerning women!”’ the speculator said, rising to depart. “If, however, you think better of my ropostly ou can address me at the'so-called Masto- on Hotel.” “Very well, sir; but pray do not watch anxiously for any change in my decision, or you will surely be disappointed.”’ The Honorable Cecil bowed, with a bland, doubt- ing smile, and took his departure, and Madame Min- nie watched him down the street. “Sandy a felon!’ she mused, turning her gaze in the direction of the Lightning Lode mine; “I can- not believe it of hin. This is news tome. And yon- der schemer said I could not win him. Maybe not; but we shall see—weé shall see. In the meantime ”’— and a strange gleam shot into her eyes—‘‘in the meantime, something else.” CHAPTER X, THE BLOW FALLS AT LAST. Sanpy was working away in the mine, when one of his men approached him with a note in his hand. ‘“* An old cuss gave it to me, sir!’ he said, bowing, “and sed give it ter Sandy; so I reckon as et must be fer you.” Sandy took the note, and retired to a niche where a light was burning, and there opened the note, It was written in a neat business hand, slightly femi- nine some of the letters were, and ran as follows: “Sanpy: Look out for the Washingtonian chap, Grosvenor, who stops at the Mastodou. He tried to hire Deadwood Dick to shoot you, but did not make asuccess of bis intentions. He is a double-dyed vil- lain, and will, no doubt, try some other villainous plan, as he seems desirous of getting rid of you.” This was all, there being no signature. A faint smile of contempt wreathed the miner’s mustached mouth as he thrust the note into his vest pocket. “So the old vi he muttered, as he let him proceed. Even wouldn’t mourn my 3 He worked the day out, and went home at early dusk, The cabin door was closed but unlocked, and he opened it and entered. : Dusty Dick was sitting at the table with his head r really means business, does he?” went back to his work. * Well if he kills me, the world bowed upon his arms, crying—as Sandy could see that the slight form was trembling with emotion. He put away his pick, pouch and rifle, and ap- proached the table. ‘““What! erying, Dick? What's gone wrong?” he said, laying one browned hand upon the flossy curls of the youth. ‘“ Has any one molested you?” There was no answer except a low moan from Deadwood Dick on Deck. : bowed his head in his hands. The blow had been 9 struck—the very blow that he had been dreading ever since Dick came. It had struck him in a spot more susceptible of be- | ing wounded than any other component part of him- Dick for several minutes: then he raised his face to | Sandy, such’ a tearful, agonized expression upon it | as the miner had never before seen. “Oh! Sandy, I thought you were never coming, and got so frightened.” “At what, dear,’’ and the miner’s tone was tender and sympathizing as he bent over this disguised ardner of his, whom he was growing unconsciously onder of each day as the autumn days wore dream- ily by. ‘Who or what could give you affright?”’ : On! Sandy, it is the one man in all the world whom I most fear—my enemy! He has arrived, and found me. I was sitting in the doorway when he — and he shook his clenched hand at me. God snows how I ever got in here and shut the door—I do not. It seemed as if all objects were reeling round and around me.” “You poor child,” and for the first time Sandy seated himself close beside her, ‘I pity you from the bottom of my heart, for it is a sin that one so young in life as you should know the meaning of the word trouble, It is coming to the point that you are to be found out, and I—” ‘*Dishonored,” Dick replied, drying her eyes. “God forbid. I will fly, and then maybe my enemy will follow and murder me, and these people of Whoop-Up will never know that you were harboring a& woman.” **No! no! You shall not think of leaving my pro- tection. I have been your protector so far—lI'll see ou safe through. Who is the villain who is molest- ing Pa sd ‘His name is Cecil Grosvenor!” “What! that inhuman wretch? he?” Can it be possible that “Yes, Cecil Grosvenor. you, too, know him?” “Know him? He is the bitterest foe I ever had or have to-day. It was to murder me that he hunted me up here in Ricci gt “Then heaven help you, for he will surely carry out his object unless you fly. It was to escape death at his hands that I came off here into this wild coun- try!” By heaven! not ““What are you to him, Dick,” the miner asked **that he should want to kill you?” “T cannot tell you now—sometime, maybe, you shall hear my story. To tell you that the ever-ruling curse, money, is the main object is quite sufficient. And, what is the cause of his enmity against you?” “Tt is a bitter story, Dick; I would rather not tackle it now, for I get stormy when I tell it. But, as 7 say, you shall hear it sometime. I never try to think of if, for it makes me less than a man. enough that Cecil Grosvenor is an enemy to both of us, and his enmity means evil. I shall make youa the next stage for Itis | proposal: Marry me, and we will leave this place by | California, where we can bury | ourselves out of the reach of this man. Iam rich, | and you shall never want for the comforts of.a | home, or the protection of a strong arm. It is use- less for me to tell you I love you with a whole heart —you must have seen this in my past actions. Will you do it, Dick?” **No, Sandy,”’ was the sober reply, tinged with sadness; ‘‘ J cannot. If you do not wish to hurt my feelings—if you do love me, as you Say you do— jlease never allude to the subject again.’ “All right, Dick!’ and the miner turned away, lest he should betray his emotion and disappoint- ment. ‘But you will at least let me be your pro- tector as heretofore?” “Unless I had best leave the place to escape my foe; then, how could you extend your kindness?” * You shall not go; you must stay with me, and I will fight both of our battles.”’ He stood before her, a glorious love-light shining in his eyes, his arms folded across his massive chest —stood there looking so nd and noble before the woman he loved of all others—the woman whom he dared not speak to of love, or hold to his manly breast for one wild ecstatic moment. “Well said and done, Sandy!” a cool, familiar voice exclaimed, around to behold Calamity Jane standing just within the room, leaning idly against her rifle, hay- ing evidently been a spectator for some time. ‘You are a noble man, Sandy, andI respect you the more for this.” “ You here, girl!’ the miner exclaimed, almost harshly, “You come and go like a hovering spirit. How did you get in?” “T came in close behind you, and one closing of the door answered for both of us!” Calamity re- lied, with a chuckle, “And why?” “Because I wanted ter talk wi’ ye. Didn't expect what I saw, or I should hev waited. You needn’t feel confused, though, nor vexed, for I reckon, I’m about the only friend youll have in Whoop-Up, di- erie! ‘less it’s Deadwood Dick,” e hy so?” “*Because—well, you see, thet old chap from Wash- ington, who ae was jest talkin’ about, has got_the report spread that ye’re not doin’ ther fair shake— that Dusty Dick, here, is a gal—that you’re a wolf in sheep’s clothin’—that ye are a runaway forger an’ feion—an’ so-forth, an’so-forth. So et’s going to pull down hard on the honor ye’ve built up here in Whoop-Up, you see.” Sandy walked around the room a couple of times. abstractedly; then threw himself into a chair an | Ishall assuredly do so, self—his honor, as a man. “You are sure of this?’ he asked, looking up, af- ter a painful silence. “You are sure?” “So sure that I accept the reports o’ my ears. Every galoot on the street has got his mouth full o’ it. I kinder trigged the result, awhile ago; to-day I traced the report ter ets source—the Honorable Cecil Grosvenor from Washington.” There was a short silence, then Sandy again spoke: ‘Calamity, you have shown a friendly disposition toward us since first we met, and I believe you are a friend!” ‘““And you jest bet yer boots on et, Sandy!” was the reply in the girl’s grim way. ‘First along Sandy, I got some very foolish notions into my he about you but a leetle bit ago, while I war a witness ter thet scene. I crushed out them thoughts— ground ’em under my heel, an’ ye can see ther print 0’ a number three in the floor, back yonder by the door. eons Lath eee arenes wre sas As she spoke, the wild girl sto azing a e floor, as if thinking, even while speai ine, and there was a strange mournful ring to her voice which Sandy could Dut interpret. The sudden bright look that mantled her countenance the next moment, however, was a relief to him and also to Dusty Dick, who stood leaning against the table watching lier rival with burning gaze. “Tt’s all right now, Bondy. Calamity Jane said, with a smile, which her auditors knew was forced, “it’s allright. You love your pard, and she loves you, though she may deny it; so ef ye ken hitch traces together, it’s much better.” ‘You are a brave-hearted, good girl, Janie!" Sandy said, considerably affected, “and I scarcely know how to thank i for your self-sacrificing confi- dence. If ever [ have an oP rtunity to repay you, Will you not te story that we may know you the better?” “No! no!” and a fierce expression for an instant made the girlish face grow savage. “Not now. Sometime I will. You may have heard the varying stories about me, and may wonder why I lead this wild life of mine. Before I let up with et, I’ve got @ man to kill—one of the basest, vilest wretches upon God's fair earth. For yearsI have been waiting for him to come here, and at last he has come. It is only a matter of time, now, till I kill him.” “Surely you would not commit murder, girl?” “No! not murder—I'll wait tel he tackles mej; then T'll shoot him in self-defense, you see!” and a strange, vengeful laugh escaped her lips. ‘“ You don’t know the extent of my wrongs or you'd say shoot, too.” “Probably !’’ Sandy replied; then after a moment —** what would you advise me to do, in the event of what you have told us? Whoop-Up will evidently be too hot for us.”’ 4 along at you are “Don’t mind anything about it, but your work just the same as before. uizzed or pointed out, don’t give ‘em enny satisfac- tion, ‘less et comes ter insult; then use yer revol- ver in earnest. Stay and fight it out by all means. To leave, now, would be an acknowledgment of shame and guilt.” “Very well, I will stay then, and fight it out. If they get me roused—” ou bet,’ Calamity replied, If they work too “They ll find a tiger, enthusiastically. ‘* Good for you! cluss, eg ‘em at a distance, and remember that you have friends near. You, Dusty Dick, can show your hand ter help your pard, an’ ye wanter do it. us your | Good-by; you can look for me agaiu, at most any time.” She then took her rifle and left the cabin, as quick- ly as she had come, leaving Sandy and Dusty Dick alone. Outside, in the long, brilliantly lit street of the town, the surging, restless Growd had divided more into groups, and were eagerly discussing this bit of news with which the town had become afflicted. All believed Sandy to be a scamp and hypocrit for Cecil Grosvenor had spread his seed wide an | thick, so that it should take root. and the startled pards looked | | of one of Calamity’s No one ventured to stop or broach the subject to Calamity Jane; they knew her_too well of old, to think of laying her against one she liked. She met Cecil Grosvenor near the Mastodon, and stopped him in his evening walk, by stepping direct- ly in his path. “See here!” she said, pulling a revolver from her belt, and showing it under the astonished Washing- tonian’s nose—*‘ you old wretch, do you know what I’ve a mind to do?” “Don’t! don’t! put down the weapon—what do you mean, girl?’ he gasped, changing from red to white in at nkling. ‘‘Doyou hear? put down the weap- **No! I won’t do anything of the kind, you cow- ard!’ Jane declared, ooay ay * *“Ain’t ye a sweet specimen 0’ a hypocritical nui- sance, ter call yourself Honorable So-an’-So? I’'vea notion ter put a bullet clean through your head. Old man, do you know that you played a sham deal against Sandy?” An expression of devilish satisfaction came onto the se pase ae countenance, and he chuckled, mly. “It was my trump card, replied. “Tt struck home well, I see, judging by the diatep- sion in the streets. I did the town a favor by ex- posing a disgraceful nuisance!” “Look out, you imp 0’ Satan,”’ and the hammer No. 32's came back one noteh; you see!’’ he
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10 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. “ef ye goter braggin’, I'll make further breathin’ on your part a thing o’ the past. I stopped ter tell ye that you’re an old villain, and if you try any more of your games you’rea dead man. Do you hear?” “What business is it to you that you interfere?” Grosvenor sneered, eying the dare-devil girl sav- ely. ne You'll find out ef ye play another trick against that man, Sandy. e’s my partic’lar friend, an’ *twix’t me an’ Deadwood Dick, he’ll be taken keer an’ don’t ye forgit it.” of, . Then the girl passed on. CHAPTER XI. IN THE STREET—SANDY’S DEFENSE—DUSTY DICK GONE! Catamity Jane had not been gone half an hour, when there was a sharp Indian-like whoop, and a band of horsemen dashed out of the blackness of Cafion Guich into Whoop-Up’s single street. There were upward of seventy-five of the outlaws, all well- mounted and armed, and masked—a great crowd they appeared, as they rode yelling and hooting into the town, firing, and with deadly effect, right and left. “ Road-agents! road-agents!’”’ rung the yell of the surprised townspeople and miners; ‘‘hurrah! to arms! sweep the dogs out of existence!” This cry was spread universally from one end to the other of the long street—was caught up by nearly every tongue, and everything that was to be had in the shape of a weapon was seized by the crowd that to the place of battle. And a battle in ear- nest it was to be. The road-agents had evidently come into the town with the intention of cleaning it out, small, compara- tively, though they were in numbers; they made a stand near the center of the town, and fought fierce- ly with carbines and revolvers. Every shot they fired told disastrously upon the ranks of the resolute defenders for a time; but encouraged by the fearless fighting of old Bull- whacker and his Regulators, the crowd pressed fierce- ly in upon the road-agents, determinedly, firing a terrible volley of bullets into their ranks. Of all the defenders in that desperate conflict, none did more excellent service than the much-clothed leader of the Regulators, old Bullwhacker. He stood at the front, with a large pair of army revolvers in his clutch, firing continually, until they were emptied; then his Evans repeater came into hand, and sent forth a deadly stream of fire-wreathed lead. The man was wonderfully cool while others were yelling and excited around him, and many a r fellow dropped dead, while he stood calmly in the midst of the affray, his perueu™ seeming to turn aside the gt bullets that hissed like lightning-hail through the air. On=on waged the battle, the road-agents fighting like devils for victory, the defenders imitating their example, to save their property and emulate their bravery. It was warfare in dead earnest—bullet for bullet, blood for blood. roy left his cabin when he heard the cry, and stood for a moment outside of the door, listening and watching the crowds that went past. “What is it, Sandy?’’ Dusty Dick asked, coming to the door; ‘‘why are all the men rushing up the ulch ?”’ BN There’s an attack from road-agents,”’ gree re- lied, drawing his pair of revolvers, and revolving The cylinder to see that all the cartridges were right. “T reckon it’s my duty to take a hand too, if there’s fighting to be done. Those ruffianly outlaws need to be killed, and now’s the proper chance. Go back in the shanty, and don’t admit any one except they give a cough and a rap.” . “ But, you may get wounded or killed!’ Dick gasp- ed, in alarm. “How much would you care if I did get toppled over?’ the miner demanded, almost fiercely, as he wheeled and confronted her, gazing strangely into the disguised face.and beautiful eyes, ‘Very, very much!” was the reply; “ but go; you may be needed.” Sandy obeyed, and strode rapidly up the gulch. The fi; fit was just around the bend, but when he got there the last shot had been fired; the road- agents had broken from the wall of humanity, and were dashing down the cafion at mad speed, moun- nward. It would have been next to useless to have pursued them, for ere the pursuers could have got their horses, the desperadoes were out of sight in the ht’s gloom, which reigned beyond where the lights of the town reflected. And, besides, there was enough to attend to on the scene of battle, where full three-score lay bleeding, either dead, dying, or wounded. Among this number, two-thirds were tewnspeople or miners; of the road-agents only one man was found alive, and by Old Bullwhacker’s or- der he was immediately strung up toa limb and paid the earthl arya! of his crimes. Fifteen were ki ed outright of the defenders, but, as it turned out, they were men without families. Of the rest who were more or less wounded, only three afterward died. Was sucha disastrous battle with road-agents re- ported here in the East? Probably not; for the As- sociated Press dispatches have never yet been known to report one-third the crimes or casualties that occur in the wild land west of the Missouri. Yet the above battle did occur, with the result we have | chronicled. Tt was rather a doubtful victory on the part of the ‘Whoop-Upites; yet they were in a measure jubilant over it. \ Every care was offered the suffering and wounded; | Sandy himself made bold to step forward and pro- | | ders—for she was in a m pose a rse for burying those who did not have eee money, liberally offering to donate, fifty dollars. The men looked at each other, and then at the handsome miner, who had within the day been dis- honored in their eyes. One then stepped forward, a grim expression upon his face. “*T ruther calcylate we don’t none o’ us want none o’ yer money, Mr. Sandy!” he said, with a glance to see that the crowd approved of his words. ‘‘ We kin accept 0’ yer proposal an’ do the liftin’ among us. You'd better meee +e money fer thet little critter ye’ve got corraled down at yer shanty; it'll take all yer spare cash ter keep sech as a-goin!”’ ‘Look out!’ and the yellow-haired miner ad- vanced apace nearer, his face and eyes flaming. “Hint if you dare that any thing is wrong between me and my a and Ill break every bone in your accursed body.” ““T reckon we don’t chaw back what we say, pil- grim, My name’s Bulldog Brown, at yer sarvice, an’ ef ye want anything o’ me, jest sail in. We do pre- sume to say thet yer pard, Dusty Dick, is a woman, an’ a rusty hypocrite you be to—” The fellow didn’t finish the sentence, for the miner fiercely leaped upon him, and with a tremendous blow, which would have staggered an ox, felled the brute to the earth. Then he bounded back, one of his revolvers cocked and ready in either hand. “*Now, then, where’s the wretch who wants to re- peat the insult? I'll lay him out in stiller shape than did this fool,” he cried, glaring around, for he was terribly angered. There was an angry murmur in the crowd, and a eneral motion toward rushing upon the miner; but t was not to come to battle, for at this juncture a man stepped forward with a pair of revolvers in hand, and stood alongside Sandy. It was none other than the Regulator, Old Bullwhacker. He waved back the crowd, and they stopped at his beckon, for no man had ever won such a pope, in Whoop- Up, in so short a time, as the much-clothed un- known. “Hold! stop!” he cried, ina clear, ringing voice. “The first galoot who moves a step ag’in’ this miner, will directly after be a dead man. st there be no more bloodshed, There’s been enough, God knows. Sandy did perfectly right in knocking yonder nasty- tongued brute down, fer insultin’ him as he did. “As ter the pard, Ill stake my pile she’s all square; ef Dusty Dick be a woman,” ‘An’ I, too; an’ I'll lick thunder out 0’ any chap in the crowd as says she ain’t!” cried a ringing voice; then came a Comanche-like whoop, and Calamity Jane bounded into the scene. Immediately the five men left out of Bullwhack- er’s band, and several others, stepped over to the Regulator’s side. This was the straw that broke the camel's back, and the crowd broke up and dispersed. Calamity went over to where Sandy was restoring his revolvers to his belt. “One card in your favor,” she said, with a low laugh. ‘“* You did handsome, but you should have shota rae of the cusses to show them ye warn’t afraid. That’s ther only way to git along out hayr. See what a change my comin’ made; they knowed I’m business clean thro Look out fer ’em, for Ab try youa lick again. Now, go home and go d. “ Not until I have thanked you and these who have her defended me!” Sandy said, warmly graspi her hand, ‘‘Ialready owe you much—how can I ever repay you?” nce I might have been unmaidenly enough to have named a reward, but that is past. Idon’t ex- pect to get any—never!” She turned away abruptly, but not before Sandy had caught a glisten in her eyes which he knew to be tears. He was pegs pry to follow her—then came She pewye of Dusty Dick in his imagination, and he resisted. He kindly expressed his thanks to Old Bullwhack- er and the others who had so bravely stepped over to his defense; then strode up the street toward his cabin with a perriage as haughty as any king. _ Madame Minnie beaten had seen im ‘Zo ps oin in the affray, and stood in her doorway watch- ,.as he came along with free, elastic strides. ‘I was so afraid that you would get hurt, Sandy,” she said, in an anxious tone. “I just heard that they made an attack upon you—how was it ?” “They cast insulting slurs, and I retaliated by knocking one down. kon I should have got the worst of it, but for the intervention of Calamit; Jane and Bullwhacker;’’ and the miner laughed as he shouldn’t have cared. ‘*T wish I had been able to have come to cue, Sandy. Come inside a few moments.”’, “What for?” ‘“‘T wish to give you counsel.” ‘“‘T have had plenty, thanks.” “*No—but come in; I wish to speak to you con- ym Te something of vital vm Fates yi ait _Sandy hesitated a moment, then followed the beau- tiful blonde into a little room which she used as a parlor, haga y the dance-house. Here he accep- ted a seat, and she also seated herself directly oppo- site him, across the little deal table. A flood of light from a lamp chandelier, falling upon her fair head and features and bared white shoul- I ficent costume—had an additional effect of increasing her wondrous beauty ; she knew it perhaps full as well as the man before her, and put on one of the fascinating smiles she knew so well how to manage. After a moment of hesitation, she turned to Sandy: “Did it ever come under your notice, Sandy, that a woman has not that control over her feelings, which is peculiar to men?” she asked, looking shyly into our res- his eyes. “If so, you will not think bad of me for what Iam to say to you. Sandy, I love you!” ““What! you, whom I have not met a dozen times —you love me!” the miner exclaimed, starting vio- lently, astonishment depicted upon his face. “Yes, I. You are astonished—nearly dumb- founded ;—yet, still you survive between the siege of three madly idolatrous loves.” “Eh? how do you mean?” ‘“‘T mean that three women in this very town adore ag agg youas being the only perfect man in the mines. First of all is Dusty Dick, who has got J She A most intense manner. nor provesrs and I refused him. I want you, Sandy eal 3 “No,” the miner said, with emphasis, as he arose part. ‘ When I want a wife I shall do the pick- and proposing, myself. me ie If you don’t want me,I shall not be tic laugh, as he left the saloon. out of sorts eg gata with such as the bewitching Madame Minnie. But he was not prepared for the discovery that awaited him on his return to ‘‘ head-quarters,”’ as he called his shanty. The door was open—the candle was burning upon the table, but ty Dick was gone ! Yes, gone; but where? In some alarm the miner began to search around the shanty. Nothing which had been Dick’s was missing except his rifle and ammunition. Had he gone purposely, or had he been abducted for murderous purpose by the instrumentality of Ce- cil Grosvenor? For a moment he stoodin the center of the cabin, and tried to determine in his mind which, but a lone- ly feeling crept over him, and stepping out into the open air, he locked the door after him. The crowds in the street were the same as at the brightest_hour of day, only a little noisier, if any- thing. The music from the neighboring dance- houses, the shouts of drunken roughs, the jolting ramble of incoming stages, were a few of the sounds that served to make the night hideous. In vain Sandy glanced around in hope of catching some glimpse of Dusty Dick. Nowhere was the youthful pard to be seen among the throngs that mzged by. e was still standing, undecided what to do, when he heard a well-known whistle, and Calamity Jane came up, with a flourish. “Hello! what are you looking so down in the mouth about, Sandy?” was the salutation, ‘“ You look as if you’d lost your best friend?’ “So I have, girl—one of them. Dusty Dick is one!" “Gone? the deuce, you say!” om gone. I just returned, to find the shanty empty.”’ She's around town somewhere, no doubt, and ‘ll be back directly.” “No, I think not. Her rifle and ammunition are both gone. Either she has left, because of the dis- covery and talk, or has been abducted; which, I can- not determine.” ‘* Et’s the former,” Calamity said, instantly. ‘To spare you further trouble, she has pulled out. I wouldn’t hev done it if it had been me, but she hasn't had the experience, you know.” “ Has ay stage left town within the last hour?” xy oo F hy? Will you hunt after her?” “Mos ‘ “Don’t do it. Give the matter into my hands, I know the mountains and places best. Go on at your pina don’t worry if you don’t see me in three ys!’ CHAPTER XII. A DIABOLICAL PLOT—AN AD f So Sandy went back to his shanty and passed a sleepiess night, for he was much troubled concerning the strange disappearance of Dick. On cbe following morning he arose late, and after breakfasting upon some cold meat, went to the mine known in Whoop-Up as the Lightning Lode. It was a huge intermountain cavern, which had entrance through a narrow tunnel, onl large enough | for the passage of a mule and a Wines tor, Inside there were Sew f sections of the cavern, where the rock was pierced with dark shafts and long passages huge pillars supporting the cei of rook here and there. All this t work had n accomplished by drilling and giant powder, and the rich quartz rock was drawn by dump loads out to the breaker and crusher in the gulch. ‘. _ At the entrauce to the mine Sandy met his super- intendent, a man of forty years, named Bronson. “Well, has everything gone right?” he asked, | pausing a moment. ‘““No; on the contrary, everything has gone wrong,’ Bronson replied, dubiously. “The men, all but three or four, came and got their wages an Hind ago, declining to work in your employ any onger. ‘*Humph! I expected it,” Sandy replied, with a faint smile. ‘Let the fools go if they choose, Do you share their views of the matter?” “Well, n—no; but I'd kind o” like to see it cleared up, you know,” Bronson replied. “Don't know as et makes so much difference, but then—"
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aa | aS “You shall know all in time. I was roy = pro- tecting a woman whom I found in distress, from the brutal villainy of a wretch who is in this yor town to-day. The disguise she had adopted when I found her—I only added a few finishing touches,” “Very well, Sandy, laccept the explanation and believe you. “T’lltellthe few men remaining. It would be better if you were to make this explana- tion general.” “T don’t choose. Let it be found out without any interference. I crave no man’s friendship.” ‘“What shall we do about more men to work the mine?’ “Stick out a placard: ‘More miners wanted at $2.50 per day.’ at will fetch em. I was thinking of raising their wages the other day. Be sure to hire none of the old gang, as new hands will answer better, I think.” i And accordingly Bronson stuck out a placard ina conspicuous place: ‘“ Wantrep—Twelve or fifteen new miners to replace deserters at the Lightning Lode. $2.50 per day. Apply at once to the Superintendent.” This card caught the eye of Honorable Cecil Gros- venor, as he was returning on his handsome bay mare from a morning gallop down the cafion. “The very opportunity for ending the eomer and a cruel, malignant smile came upon the sinister countenance of the speculator as he grasped the thought. “Ihave the very plan in my mind, too. My first work is to hunt up the Danite, and instruct him.” He galloped on to the livery, dismounted and hur- ried on to the Mastodon, a few doors away. On search, he found Arkansas Alf in a rear room drink- ing wine and fleecing a Texan herder at cards. At Grosvenor’s motion, he threw up the game, and they went to the bar-room where they were soon the occupants of a stall, which was one of a dozen which flanked aside of the apartment. “Waal?” the Danite interrogated, seerion bie arms upon the table, and gazing grimly at the Washing- tonian, ‘‘ What’s the rip?” “Nothing in particular, except that I am ready to have you go to work. You know where the Light- ning Lode mine is?”’ , ‘*Reckon I do.”’ * And the man, Sandy?” “Sartin sure.” ‘Well, he is the man I want put out of my way. Here is my plan. He has advertised for new work- men, You must go and make an application for a job, for you and your pards. Work cheap, and ask to be allowed to sleep at night in the mine. At night you must work silently and cautiously. Charge every available place heavily with giant powder, all to be connected with one long main fuse. This you must run around the base of the hill to where you can hide it in the bushes. Be at your stand, to-mor- row, just before noon. When the hands of your watch point to ten minutes of twelve, listen and you will hear a gun report—then light the fuse, mount your horse, and get safely into the mountains. I will be at the junction of the Deadwood and Gosslin trails, when you get there, and you shall have a round hundréd dollarsfor your work.” ‘“*Keerect! I’m your huckleberry, you bet. Shall 5. go now?” the Danite asked. “Yes, make haste, and secure a job if possible. You'll find powder enough for your purpose in the mine. Make everything sure—and remember I am not to be mentioned in the matter,” “Very well, boss. What about ther two feminines ye spoke about?” ‘*One of them I hear has escaped. I shall make no effort to secure her, as she will probably be brought back by curiosity. The other woman, Mad Marie, I know nothing about, further than that she is in this vicinity. You will have to rely upon your detective abilities to find her.” is a-goin’ ter take my eye, fer thar’s five hundred dollars or more on his head, which Pd love to fin- ger.” . The ruffian then took his departure. He went to the mine, accompanied by two ruffianly4ooking as- sociates, named Fletcher and Kengrove, and hired out to Superintendent Bronson, with permission to lodge in the mine, and protect it from being rob during the night by outside parties. Cone Jane, later that day, left the town, and riding up the gulch, turned off meg ber mountains, through a dark, lonesome ravine, ugh the bot- tom of which a small creek dashed noisily, and where but little of the light of day ever penetrated. She was mounted upon her thoroughbred ca; which had few rivals in the Hills, and well arm with a sixteen-shot Winchester rifle, and a brace of bolster revolvers, besides those she wore in her belt. Every bit of a mountain knight she looked, as she rode along, scanning everything around her with a SAarp gaze. 2 4 The further she went the route continued in the ascending, and belies up into the heart of the mountain wilderness. Suddenly she drew rein and listened intently. Ahead of her, around an abrupt bend, came clear and sharp the ringing thud of hoof-strokes—then a fierce shout that echoed around the hills, with cling- ing reverberations. “Hello! some one coming this way, I reckon!” Calamity muttered, wheeling her horse to one side, just behind a clump of manzinta bushes. “ Either red-skins or road-agents, I predict, after some lone m a] pilgrim.” ‘er had not long to wait to learn that her prophecy was correct. A single horseman came dashing around the bend, Deadwood Dick on Deck. 11 with his horse running at full speed, while sitting with face backward, he was grasping a rifle in his hands, ready for use. He man as though evinced superior horsemanship. From her position, Calamity could do no more in the way of a glance than to make him out as a young man—his face she could notsee. Nearerand nearer he came; then a band of five mounted horse- men burst into view around the bend, yelling like so many Camanche red-skins. They were road-agents and some of Deadwood Dick’s band, all armed with carbines of Winchester pattern, and were in hot pursuit of the lone fugitive, whose easy riding so attracted Calamity’s admira- tion, that she wheeled her cayuse out into the ravine with a ringing shout. “Let ’em peo 9 on stg Me lug et to ’em like blazes an’ I'll back ye! Hurra! oa up thar, you imps 0 ed to retain his seat with as much ease | e occupied a fronting position, which | | | staring ha respect: snatch off thet b’iled shirt, an’ put on a flannel or caliker. Reckon they’d set you up as a swell ef ye war ter go in thet way.” “Oh, I'll run all the risks. But, Janie, isn’t your attire rather unmaidenly, considering your sex?” **Maidenly —unmaidenly!’’ Calamity muttered, at him. ‘Charley Davis, when you left me, with a betrothal kiss clinging to my lips, I was a maiden, and asmodest as they make’em. But ter- rible changes have come since then. I am nowa world’s dare-devil, ple say. Ask me nothing, for I shall tell you the same measure—nothing. In Whoop-Up—this trail takes i there, by turning to your left at the cafion below—in Whoop-Up you may by chance hear all that the world knows of the story. Go—hear, and then you will not be sur- prised.” She spoke with a fierce earnestness that was thrill- ing, and then drew up her bridle reins as if to go. Satan, fer ef ye buck ag’in Calamity Jane yer bound | ter get snagged ag’in’ an earthquake!” The words were loud enough be heard by pur- suers and pursued; then the 1 dare-devil raised her rifle to her shoulder, and sent a leaden death- en pei with unerring aim into the road-agents, killing one outright, and wounding a horse. Seeing that he was reinforced, the fugitive opened fire, also dropping one of the desperadoes from the saddle, although the wretch was only wounded. Three others were left, and they came on _ with furi- ous oaths and curses, beating their animals with the gg to increase their speed, and then firing wildly. One chance bullet struck the fugitive’s animal in the ear, and penetrated to the brain. Instantly the o00r, brute began to stagger, then stumbled and ropped dead a few feet from where Calamity had taken her stand. Luckily the rider was Epics and he leaped lightly from the saddle, an escaped injury. At the same instant Calamity’s rifle again cracked twice in succession, and each unerring bullet drop- ry its man, either dead_or wounded, from the sad- le. Seeing that he now had no chance, the remain- ing outlaw turned his horse abruptly around and took the back trail, urging his animal in mad despe- ration, with both spur and voice. Bound to finish the victory, Calamity fired the remaining thirteen cartridges in her repeater, but only succeeded in wounding him, as he disappeared from view. Then she turned to the rescued fugitive, who was standing by his dead horse, and gazing at her in ad- miration and wonder. He was a man of some five-and-twenty years, with supple, handsome form, and a light, blr. face, which, while it peer no particular beauty, was a good-naturedly good-looking face, with perfect features, dark brown eyes and hair, and a slight dark mustache. He was attired in citizen’s garb, and armed with a rifle and a pair of revolvers. Clearly, he was astonished at his sudden rescue, for he stood gazing at Calamity as if she were some- thing more than mortal. And she laughed in her cool way, as she crossed one shapely limb upon the neck of her horse, and re- turned the stare in genuine Black Hills fashion. ‘*Guess you war purty nigh about glad to get awa: frum them agents, pilgrim, warn’t ye?’ she demand- ed, at length, while she lit a cigarette. “Indeed I was!’’ the man replied, with enthusi- asm, ‘‘I’ve had all the road-agent experience I care for, since I’ve been fighting the devils for the last half hour. There were twelve of the fellows when they commenced the chase, a couple of miles back.”’ ‘““An’ ye dropped ’em all, eh?”’ “ All but the three you fetched down and the fel- low that escaped.” “Wal, then, you’re a brick—thet’s all! Couldn't a-done better myself. Reckon you’re a fresh *un in these diggin’s, eh?” “T am, I only arrived at Deadwood yesterday, and, fo pice met Ae horse, set out for a ride to Whoop- Up, wherever that may be, having no idea that the distance was so great. But, excuse me, please; you're a woman, are you not?” “Well, yes, I reckon I am in flesh, but not in spir- it o’ late years. Ye see, they kind o’ got matters discomfuddled w’en I was created, an’ I turned out to be a gal instead of a man, which I ought to hev n “Indeed? There is something in your face which reminds me of a girl I used to know six years ago, before I went East, from Denver. What is your name, ma’am?”’ “Calamity Jane, at yer service.” “What? Janie was my little sweetheart’s name!” the stranger exclaimed, drawing nearer. “Tt can- | not be that you are indeed Jennie Forrest—the same | I once knew? She left Denver for Virginia City a couple of years after, since when I have never heard a word from her.” ’ “Yes, Iam Jennie—she that was Jennie Forrest,” | Calamity replied, slowly. “T am Ch Six years ago, on your sixteenth birthday, you promised to wait for me and become my wife!’ ‘** You Charley Davis?” the girl exclaimed, delight. edly; ‘then thar’s my paw—grab it! I’m glad to see | you as a b’ar is to hug a human,” “But who can you be?” The stranger eagerly accepted the proffered hand | and shook it warmly, while he gazed admiringly into the face of the girl-scout. “You have greatly changed, Jennie, but it is for the better, excepting your attire. Why dress thu when the attire of your own sex is more becoming?’ “T don’t allow ye ken beat men’s togs much fer handy locomotion an’ so forth, an’ then, ye see, I'm as big a gun among the men as any of arley Davis—don’t you remember me? | , | ; em. An’ ef | | ye’re goin’ to Whoop-Up, let me advise ye in one | Hold on! shall we not meet again, Jennie?” Davis exclaimed, anxiously—“ very soon, if hope?” “Probably, as I’m generally around. What brought you ‘here, sir?” “To hunt Me a man whom the Government wants. Iam a special police-detective, you know.” “Oh, you are! Well, in Whoop-Up you kin take your pick out of all the worst devils in the West; so go ahead, and success be to you.” Saying which the girl cdare-devil rode on up the ra- vine, leaving the stranger to pursue his way on to Whoop-Up afoot. CHAPTER XIII. DICK RETURNS—THE MINE A MAGAZINE. CaLamity kept on her course through the moun. tains, penetrating many ravines and dark defiles and scouring the adjacent timbers sharply. She was in search of the girl who stood between her and Sandy’s love—Dusty Dick, unknown to either, who had fled from Sandy’s protection. Why she had taken upon herself the mission, Calamity never could have told exactly. She was interested in Sandy’s welfare and happiness; perhaps this was what prompted her. But the day wore away, and she found no traces of the runaway, and then headed her tired animal back in the direction of the mines. It was | growing dark in the pine-crested hills, and she urged her steed along at a sharp gallop, the sharp clattering of the animal’s shod feet upon the rocky trail causing long, detonating echoes to fill the i ae were heya _ a a . 7 ong, Jacko!"’ she urged, applying the spur when the animal lagged. “ We must honey and get back to town, for there is work there for me. this time that wretch, Arkansas Alf, is up to deviltry, and I’m going to thwart the game.’ A couple of hours of swift ride brought her back into the bustling flash city. Sandy sat in thedoor of his shanty, smoking an evenin i gtr Calamity rode up, and slipped a: e sad : to hea ground. ued : ““Any news?” the miner interroga’ erly, a hopef light shining in his eyes. iva kek “None at all concerning Dusty Dick. Guess she’s hid whar she ain't goin’ to be found so soon. Don’t be discouraged, tho’, 1 hain’t looked the whole mount through. She may have gone to Dead- wood.” “ Probably we shall never see her »” Sand replied, slowly. ‘She may have killed herself.” ‘No! nary a time! Thet warn’t her lay-out, and don’t ye fergit et. Ill find her before long, Sandy. em ou know of a man in Washington named Char- ey Davis?” a ' think not. The name does not sound familiar. y? ; “Oh, I didn’t ask for any c’lar reason. Thar’s a man here by that nam idn’t know but he might be an acquaintance of yours.” “No, I guess not. ing?’ for she had remount- ed with a nimble on “Yes, Imust begoing. Did you get new men at the mine?”’ ** Yes, twelve or thirteen, to replace the desert- ers.” After Calamity had gone, Sandy knocked the ash- es from his pipe, and entered the shanty, | the door after him. To him the place now had a desolate, nay. look, since Dusty Dick was not there; he could scarcely do less than feg) sad, for with his whole manly heart he had loved the beauti- ful girl-woman, who had played her role so well as his pard, and her absence seemed like that vacancy left by a sudden death. All the trinkets he had bought her, even to a handsome gold watch, had been left behind, and with a careful fondness, he marked the way she had left everything, and preserved the order, accord- ly. "Sitting down by the table, he bowed his head upon it, and closed his eyes wearily, for, despite his pros- perky and success in gaining worldly wealth, his ife lacked much of the essential light which makes living even endurable. For a long time he rested thus with his head bow- ed; the room was in silence, only the faint hum from the bustling street broke the monotone stil]- ness. How long he knew not, for when he imagined him- self to be awake, he was in reality asleep and in dreamland, The first knowledge he had of his hav- ing been asleep, was when he was slowly awakened by the sound of a stealthy footstep. He knew then that he was awake—assured himself of the fact by unclosing one of his beg sufficiently to catch a ray of light from one of the candles that was burning in the room. He then immediately closed his eye again, and by harder breathing, feigned sleep. Some psy | told him to do so; yet what? For the world he
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12 Beadle’s HalfLime | not have told. Some one was in the shanty, but he | knew not who. He felt a draught of air from the door, and knew thatit must be open a trifle—besides, the noises of the street came in plainer. he heard the stealthy step again, and intuition, rather than sound of movement, taught him that some one was approaching him. The next moment he felt a hot breath fan his cheek, and a pair of soft lips touch his forehead—then there was a swift, ent effort at retreating. With a cry he opened his es and sprung to his feet—reached out and caught the flying figure by the shoulder, even as it would have darted out into the night. A moment later the two were face to face—the Miner, greatly astonished, and Dusty Dick—for it was no one else—crestfallen and confused. “ Dick ?” Sandy ejaculated, in wonderment. “ By beaven! this is beyond my comprehension!” * Let me go, Sandy,”’ was the faint, choked reply: **release me, and let me depart.”* ‘Ne! not by any means,”’ and the miner crossed fhe room and shut the door. ‘‘ How did au get in? —ah! I forgot; you hadakey. Dick, tell me, why you run away from me?” and Sandy’s tones were reproachful, yet tender. * You cannot imagine how I missed you.” Sean was to save you from further annoyance, y— “Pooh! you were foolish to suppose you could help the matter in that way. Where did you hide?” “Tn the mountains.” * And why did you return?” ‘Because I couldn't sta more glimpse of your kind this place. Besides, I had a frightful dream, last night, that you were’ in imminent danger, and I could not go without coming to assure myseif that it was untrue.” “Dick, you must not leave me. I shall not permit it. What could you do wandering about the world? —and then, too, Grosvenor might again hunt you down, and, ten to one, you would not have as will- ing a friend to fight your battles as I. Promise to stay with me till I get ready to pull out. It won't be eee. as I shall sell out the mine soon at a sacvi- fice, in order to get out. In the meantime, let the fools talk, who wish to.”’ * And when you g° you do not think me un- womanly enough to follow you around wherever you might choose to lead?’ Dusty Dick exclaimed, with a spice of anger. “Certainly not, unless we can before that time effect some compromise. Perhaps you would allow me to send you back East.” ‘*No! no! not while my enemy lives. He would genet follow, for he has sworn to murder me, if it costs him a life’s dsvoted labor.” “Don’t worry about him. I think his race is about run—am positive itis. If he gives me further mo- lestation, I'll shoot him, and done with it. Will you —- to stay, and—and await developments, let hem come as they may?” ‘*'Y-e-s, on one condition,” * Nameit, and I promise to grant it beforehand.” “Tt is that you will not mention the love for me rou profess, until—well, until I give you permis- on. “T promise. Now, then, we will resume the old life. It will be best for you to remain as strictly in the shanty as possible, and never part company with your revolver. Admit no one, unless it be Calamity Jane, Deadwood Dick, or the Regulator chief I pointed out to you once, who calls himself Old Bullwhacker. These three I believe to be warm friends, who can be trusted implicitly.” And so it was, at the midnight hour, that Dusty Dick was reinstated in Sandy’s home, About this same time, the man, Arkansas Alf, stood in a black shadow which enveloped the rear part of the Mastodon Hotel and yard, conversing in a low tone with Cecil Grosvenor, who had come out. “Yas, pilgrim,” the Danite was saying, in a care- ful whisper, “every thing is ready for the explosion as you d’rected, you. bet.. Me an’ ther b’yees jest finished a bit ago. The mine ar’ heavily charged wi’ giant powder, an’ thar is sum thirty or more leads’ runnin’ ter ther main fuse, w’ich is so neatly hidden, that they won’t be discovered,” **Good! you are a brick,’ the villainous schemer said, his tone expressing his satisfaction, ‘‘I want it to work right, you know.” “Bt will, you bet! An’ U'vearrangedit better. Jed Metcher will touch off ther fuse in piece of me, ter *void suspicion, ye see, wile I'm playin’ off drunk heer at the Mastodon; then he ai’ my other pard ‘ll slope fer Deadwood, wha’r they ken lay low ‘til I git ready ter jine em. D’ye see?” ; “Certainly. Your pla is excellent, inasmuch as ‘ [have noticed that Calamity Jane has been watch- ing you rather sharp. She might suspect somethin’, you know, but your plan prevents danger.”’ “Qurse Calamity Jane!” the Danite-Ghoul ex- claimed, fiercely; ‘‘I haven't been able to get a straight bead on her since I came here, or she'd ‘a’ bin a stiff afore this. Ive got a grudge ag’in’ her—I hev, you bet! What time d’ye 5 4m “Fifteen minutes to twelve. I'll be up here at the Mastodon, and shoot off my revolver at some object, as a signal for the fuse to be lighted.” “Very well—ther fuse shall be lighted, an’ them in the mine ‘ll be blowed ter Kingdom Come,” the Danite replied, as he strode ~way out of the dark- ness into the brilliantly illiminated street of the town. As he left the shadow of the building, his sharp eyes detected a form skulking along ahead of him, and he at once recognized it as the same person away. I wanted one | ‘ace before I forever left ' At length | With an oath Arkansas Alf bounded in pursuit, and overtook the old, rusty-looking codger in the middle of the street. “Hold up, you old rip!” he cried, slapping him on the shoulder, and whipping out a formidable re- volver. ‘‘Jesc hold yer hosses, ef ye please, till we settle this matter!” The old man wheeled around in evident surprise. ** What mought ye be wantin’?”’ he asked, in a voice which had a perceptible tremor in it. “Tl show ye, d’rectly, ye ornery cuss. I reckon yer road agent days ar’ about over. I say, Bull- whacker,” and the Ghoul hailed the Regulator, who chanced to be passing along, ‘““come over heer an’ see ef this ain’t about ther size uv a galoot ye want.”’ “Who've ye got?” the much-clothed road-Regu- lator demanded, eying the old man and his captor in surprise. “ What right have you got to arrest a man here in the street?” “The right o’ a citizen,” the Danite replied, grim- ' ly. * Besides, I want sum reward-money. This man is ny one else then Deadwood Dick, in disguise.” “What? this Deadwood Dick? I heard he was dead, in reality; anyhow, you’ve had your trouble for your pains, Mr. Kennedy, for the gov’yment hes withdrawn all offers ov reward lately, because ov Dick's late valuable sarvice as Regulator, Ther stage fetched in the news not an hour ago.” “T don’t keer a tinker’s cuss!’’ the Danite replied, sullenly. ‘“‘ Jerk off this disguise, an’ ef the galoot’s Deadwood Dick, I fer one’ lend a hand ter boost him up ter ther nearest limb, Hurray! a road- agent raisin’!” A crowd of miners had by this time collected, and as all were enemies of Deadwood Dick, it looked pretty skittish for the old man. “Well, I guess you'll bave to pull off them false whiskers, old chap!”’ the Regulator said; ‘‘ seein’ as how these men rtp ge 4 you're their game. If you're Deadwood Dick, I ken’t do ye much ov any good, bein’ a Regulator. Reckon you'll have to swing.”’ *Reckon I won't!’ was the cool reply, which somehow sounded familiar to the crowd, ‘“ Et ain’t quite my forte ter perform gymnastics in ther atmo- sphere, ef ther old p’onnygraff knows etself.’’ Then the old man stepped back a pace, touched a spring in his clothing, and his ragged garb fell to the ground, revealing a well-fitting buck-skin suit be- neath. Off then came the wig and false beard, and there, before the astonished crowd, stood — not Deadwood Dick, but the dare-devil, Calamity Jane! “A cute cuss, warn’t ye, Alf Kennedy!” she chuckled, grimly. ‘‘Didn’t know thet ye war snag- gin’ ag’in’ death itself, did ye, you villain? Ha! ha! all you bloodthirsty galoots—how d'ye like my style, fer Deadwood Dici:?” ‘You! Jane Forrest?’ the Danite exclaimed, reeling back at the sudden apparition, ‘‘Cuise you!” “Don't curse me, Alf Kennedy! It is T who should curse you, my destroyer / There! there! put up your istol; I ain’t a-goin’ to kill ye yet, I’m reservin’ ye til sum time when I shall have time to attend yer funeral!”’ And, turning onvher heel, she strode fearlessly away, while Arkansas Alf made his way toward the Lightning Lode mine, to advise his pards. Honorable Cecil Grosvenor’s apartment at the Mastodon consisted of a room which overlooked the dark side of the gulch, and was lighted by_a_ single window in daytime. At night his only light con- sisted of a dingy lamp. ' After leaving Arkansas Alf, he entered the hotel which was flourishing under Colonel Joe’s super- vision, and ascended to his room in an excellent frame of mind, for him. “™ ashort time more, the man who stands be- tween me and a big fortune will be dead!” he mut- tered, exultantly. ‘‘Then I will go back East, and— keep well away from Washington, The rest of my 3s can be spent in wealth and luxury. Ha!” Te uttered the latter exclamation as there was a crashing of glass, and a stone came hurtling into the room. On picking it up, the speculator found it to be habbo gy in white letter-paper, on which was writing. Examination disclosed the following, which had been penned in a woman’s chirography: **CErcIL GROSVENOR: You are paying a dangerous ame against a man who will in the end crush you. , for one, will help him do it. Your wife, “Map MARIE. “Pp, §.—Your plots and schemes will avail you little—Sandy will triumph!” CHAPTER XIV. THE EXPLOSION AT THE MINE. On the following morning Sandy went to the mine as usual, and found the gang already at work, with the exception of three men, whom Superintendent Bronson announced as having left without claiming their wages. ‘The same three, by the way, who wanted to lodge in the mine!” he said. ‘* Probably they made the best of their night’s stay, by apnea d what gold they could get,” Sandy said, with a smile. ‘‘ After this, we'll get a trusty guard— my dog, Buffalo, for instance. Yery few would at- tempt to pass him, I reckon.” And, unsuspecting of danger, or the diabolical plot of Cecil rosvenor to blow up the mine, Sandy went in to work along with the rest of the miners. The work of getting at the rich rock was prosecuted generally by blasting with that strong explosive, ‘giant’ powder. One blast often was sufficient to dislodge enough rock to fill a car, which was then whom the Honorable Cecil had pointed out as being | drawn out into the crushing mill, near the mouth of the ex-road-agent, Deadwood Dick, in disguise. the mine. Library. — “ $<. ___ Sandy worked away this morning with renewed’ energy, for the return of Dusty Dick had acted upon him like a rejuvenator; he felt twice the ambition to labor that he had before, while she was away. Somehow, he felt that his whole existence was bound up in her keeping—she, little more than a raided to him, whose real name even he did not About twenty minutes before the steam-whistles were to blow for twelve o’clock, Sandy was arrested in his work of directing a heavy blast, by a quick touch upon his arm. Wheeling about he confronted Calamity Jane. The dare-devil girl’s face was flushed with excite- ment, and her eyes had a dusky, scared expression. “Hello! You /’’ Sandy said, with a nod. “What ean I do for you—?”’ m Quick! get out of the mine—there is no time for words. Fly! every mother’s son of you, for the mine’ll be blown to flinders less’n five jiffles |” She spoke in a swift, loud tone; then turned and hurried toward the mouth of the mine. It did not take Sandy but an instant to comprehend, and he ordered every man to fly, for his own life’s sake, from the danger. Bronson and himself were the last to leave the doomed mine, and hurry out upon the stream shore, where the other miners and Calamity Jane were standing. A small crowd was gradually collecting, making wondering inquiries in regard to the hasty stampede from the mine, And they had but a moment to wait before they were answered. Simultaneously, almost, with the echo of a pis- tol-report in the upper part of the town, there a peared, in the mouth of the mine, a hissing, vivid ram of flame, which expired in a second, to be fol- owed the next minute by one of the most frightful explosions that ever jarred the pine-crested moun- tains in the vicinity of Whoop-Up’s flash city. Nothing, of course, was seen of the explosion, but the thundering roar of the concussion echoed far and wide, over hill and valley, and the jar mzede the earth tremble asif shaken by an earthquake. Sandy, Calamity, and the others standing in the immediate vicinity, were thrown violently to the ground, but luckily sustained no serious injuries. The glass in the neighboring shanty windows was _ badly broken. and the whole town pretty badly shaken up and startled. Several gangs of men, who had at the moment of the explosion been working on the mountain-side, above the town, were precipitated promiscuously down the sheer declivity, doing more or less injury to flesh and bones, A crowd hastily assembled from the upper part of the street, and began to press inquiries as to the na- ture and canse of the explosion;.a general excite- ment prevailed, and many were the questions that were leveled at Sandy. “*T don’t know anything about the matter!’’ the miner rae ye standing proudly erect, with folded arms, and gazing around into the grim faces of men who only yesterday had regarded him with suspi- cion; ‘cannot tell you anything, except that at the peril of her own life this heroic girl”—with a nod toward Calamity—‘‘ came into the mine and warned us to quickly abandon it, as an explosion was about oi occur. We barely got out, and then she went rs) aa “T reckon it’s a snide game ter dislodge us fellers up above!’’ one miner growled, who had come down to the gulch, end over end. “Et’s a darned nasty joke at the best of et, I say!” “That’s me!’’ chimed in half a dozen others, grim- ly. ‘Et ain't ther kind 0’ work we'd take ye to do, Sandy; but considerin’ what’s been said lately, ye really don’t seem ter be ther man we tuk ye fer.” “Hold up, hayr—don't git up no row over a few spilled oats!’ cried Calamity, stepping fearlessly forward. “Ef ye’re goin’ ter intimate thet Sandy hed ennything ter do wi’ thet explosion, yer durned liars, every mother’s son o’ ye. I happen ter know all about ther matter.” y “Bully fer ther gal! Hip hooray fer their heerine o’ ther gulch!” cried a voice, and old Colonel Joe cavorted forward into the scene, red nose and all. “Hooray, I say, fer C'lamity. A boss gal ar’ she, ye galoots, an’ don’t fergit it.” “ Shet your cellar door, you old whisky-sucker!” a miner cried, authoritatively pushin ubbs aside. “Now, then, heave ahead, girl, and let’s heer you say fer I move thet we investigate this matter,” *Hooray! so do I!’’ put in Colonel Joe polishing off the end of his sorry nose with a kerchief, ‘an’ Ti lubricate ther investigatin’ committee as cheap as ary galoot in this fragrant city of Whoop-Up, dog my cats ef I won't.” ‘Yas, I'll say my say!” replied Calamity, with a contemptuous glance over the crowd. if ye think I’m lyin’, w’en I git thru, spit her out, an’ Pll guar- antee to lick the cuss as sez so, I warn you! Sandy hedn’t nothin’ ter do wi’ ther explosion, as sed before. I an’ four others war the only ones as knowed et war ter come off, I only got inter ther seecrit by overhearin’, on two occasions, the plan o? the cussed business. Shouldn’t ’a’ overheard that only I war keepin’ a watch o’ ther ruffian, Arkansas Alf—who are the notorious Dakota Danite, by the way—who I hed some business ter settle wi’. A feller hired him an’ his two pards ter go hire out at ther mine yesterday, when hands war skeerce, an’ last night ter charge the mine wi’ giant wder, wi’ a lead-fuse up the guich yonder, The Posinées was ter be set off at fifteen minutes o° twelve to-day, an’ blow Sandy hayr ter atoms. That’s how the thing stands, pilgrims. I only hed about time ter get Sandy word a bit ago, on returnin’ from a scout, then she went off!" “Hurra! hip! hip!” yelled Colonel Joe Tubbs, en-
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y Deadwood Dick on Deck. thusiastically, and his proposition was followed by a cheer from a portion of the crowd. ‘ Ye’re a clear quill angel, C’lamity, an’ don’t ye fergit et. EfI war legally unhitched frum my Angelina Aramintha Tubbs, dog my cats ef I wouldn’t propose.” . “Yer yarn is all very well, gal!’ said the miner who had previously proposes an investigation; ‘‘ but ye ken’t_ expect us ter take yer word fer et wi’out roof. Yer character don’t consist altergether o’ ruth and—”’ ‘ His sentence was finished in a ringing shriek, for Calamity had drawn a revolver and shot him, even while his sarcastic words left his lips, and he fell to the | igor wounded through the breast. “So much. fer your lyin’, you miserable whelp!” the girl cried, wrought suddenly to a high pitch of anger. “If I was dishonored once, by one such as wen no man’s defiling touch has reached me since. at villain still lives who foully robbed Jane For- rest of her maiden name, but never of her honor; that same man has dared to come to this very tewn and do menial work for the wretch who pleune Sandy’s destruction; but as there is a God to hear my oath, he shall never live to ruin any others. I have sworn to kill him, be he Danite or der J, and I have already set the day.” When she ceased speaking, there were several min- utes of silence, not a word being uttered. The crowd had swollen greatly in numbers—Cetil Grosvenor came with it, but_ the moment he caught a glimpse of Sandy, he wheeled suddenly and retraced his steps toward the Mastodon, a fierce br. smothered oath breaking from his lips. “Then the game still lives, eh/’’ he gritted, a ma- lignant expression on his fac2, as he urried along, which caused more than op% man to glance at him curiously the second time “Ten thousand devils take that Danite! He has either betrayed me, or eise has worked so clumsily that our game was discovered and balked. The irl, Calamity Jane, ’s mixed up in the affair. Curse he luck, anyhow; What shall I do? Will it be dangerous for me to remain here? I will run the risk, If it coms to the worst, I can buy my way out of town wit! money which these groveling idiots worship.” The silence after Calamity’s oath was finally broken by the riner, Gorgon, who had acted as spokesman for the people. ' “You claim to know this man who plotted for Sar ly’s destruction—why don’t ye give the name?” he said, eying the dare-devil Sharply, as he lay *pon the ground, unable to rise, because of his wounds, “Certainly. The man’s name is Honorable Cecil Grosvenor, from Washington; he who stops at the Mastodon. He is Sandy's foamy; come heer on pees to murder him, an’ also to kill the woman ndy hes under his protection, whom ye hev known as Dusty Dick.” ““Gentlemen, ye’ve all heerd the gal’s word, an’ T'll vouch fer ets truth; so cl’ar away, an’ hev no more argyment!” cried the ator, old Bull- whacker, riding into the crowd authoritatively. * What if San y did blow up his own mine, w’ich T’'ll allow he didn’t; et’s none your bizness, as I ken see. Cl’ar away now, an’ no more o’ yer quarrelin’ wi’ a man as hain’t done ye no injury.” And as the much-clothed Replaces. was pretty generally accepted as the law of the town since his arrival, there was a lively scattering of the crowd back to the heart of the street, or to such work as had been abandoned for the purpose of visiting the scene of the explosion. Soon Sandy, Calamity, and the miners belonging to the Lightning Lode were the only ones left on the yt and they endeavored to make a discovery of the damage done the interior of the mine. But they were disappointed in finding the entrance utterly choked up with huge rocks and bowlders, which had been dislodged by the explosion. ” Sandy said, “ and “* Set the men to work, Bronso geta pasenge cleared into the mine. You may find some valuable quartz rock dislodged by the explo- sion, and can mine it and send it to the crusher. I leave matters in your charge, to-day, as I have some business to attend to elsewhere.” Bronson bowed, and with the miners went off to attack their labor. ‘ Sandy then turned to Calamity Jane with extended hand snd gisteut eyes. Calamity, my dear girl, how can I ever repay zou for your heroic efforts in my behalf? But name he way, and gladly I will hastily go to work to re- pay my debt.’ Don't talk 0’ pay, Sandy; you're friendliness to- ward me is cient remuneration for all that i have been able to do for you. There is only one bag, a “Name it, Jennie, name it.” “Tt is this: if you ever kneel to pray to the All- wise Ruler above, just give mea favorable mention.” “Bless you, of course I will!’ Sandy replied, as the eccentric girl strode away, and he took an opposite course in going toward his cabin. “I wonder if Dusty Dick has heard and become alarmed at the explosion?” i few minutes later he approached his cabin, to behold Cecil Grosvenor standing at the door, pound- ing upon it with his heavy cane, and at the same e cursing Dusty Dick, who was inside. “Let me in, woman, or durn my eyes I'll butcher Sete directly |”? Sandy heard the Washingtonian cry, ercely; then the miner stole silently up, and a moment later the villainous speculator found him- self lying sprawling in the middle of the street, ‘When he discovered who had been his assailant, he tily scrambled to his feet and made a move to- ward drawing a revolver, but the click! click! of 8 Weapon caused him to desist. i3 “Put up your shooting-iron!” the miner said, grimly, ‘‘and get yourself out of town on the quick- step if you desire to save your hide. Remember, that Igive you only this chancc; the next time we meet, you'l' get used rougher yet.” “Will I!’’ the Honorable Cecil exclaimed, in blind fury, as he limped away. ‘i'll have that woman in there. Sandy, if I have to buy the whole town tohelp ae get her. I promise you that—I swear it!” Calamity Jane after leaving Sandy, met Charley Davis further up the gulch, returning from a view of tae town. ‘Ah!’ he exclaimed, shaking hands in delight, “I never was so glad to see you, Jennie. What was shat bu’st-up a bit ago? It nearly jarred the senses out of me.”’ ‘**Sandy’s mine blew up,"’ Calamity replied. “Yes. By the way, Jennie, I saw this man, Sandy, this morning—he is one of the men I particular- ly wish to see. His name used to be Earl Beverly, out in Washington. My other victim, Honorable Cecil Grosvenor, I have not found yet—probably I shall have to hunt elsewhere for him.” ‘* Cecil Grosvenor? Why he is here in Whoop-Up —the same man who tried to blow Sandy up, in the mine.” ‘‘Ha! then I’m inluck. I have both of the birds in one grasp!’ the detective exclaimed, with a triumphant chuckle. ‘‘So Grosvenor is up to deviltry out here then? Well, I'll have to fm to his case directly. Good-day, Jennie, if you call that going;”’ for the girl was hurrying away. “A strange crea- ture, that—not much like the little Janie Forrest I knew years ago.” CHAPTER XV. 4a NEW ATTACK, WITH DISCLOSURES. Sanpy watched his enemy until he had disappeared around the bend; then turned and gave the signal and was admitted by Dusty Dick, whose face was very pale, and form trembling with excitement. “The old villain frightened you, eh?’ the hand- some miner said, throwing down his mining imple- ments in one corner, and sinking into a chair. **Oh! yes!’ Dick replied with a shiver. ‘‘ He used such terrible threats, that I could do no less than get scared. He is a very bold, wicked man, ag od “Yes; I’ve recently had an illustration of that fact,’’ Sandy replied, with a grim smile, ‘‘ You heard the explosion? Well, the wretch hired some ruffians to blow up the mine, with me in it. We got out, how- ever, by the warning of Calamity Jane, and balked the schemer. I'm going to havea settlement with him presently.” He meant it, too. He had come to the conclusion that discretion in this case was gradually ceasing to be the better part of valor. He foresaw that if he remained silent and let his enemy plot and scheme without question, he would be the loser in the end, All the rest of the day he kept closely inside of his shanty, and was in a brown study. Dusty Dick went cage J about the duties of the house, with womanly gentleness, using caution not to disturb the miner in reflection. Just at dark she discovered that a crowd of miners and townspeople were gathering on the street, in front of the shanty, and in terror she aroused Sandy, to call his attention to the fact. He glanced out of the window; then crossed the room to his ammunition corner, where he buckled on his belt of revolvers. “T can’t quite imagine what the fools mean, now!” he said, his face flushing angrily, ‘‘I suppose it’s something more concerning the mine explosion. You remain in here out of sight, Dick; if you're wanted I will 1, and you may come out. on’t be afraid, for they shall not hurt you, while I live.” Then the miner opened the door, stepped outside upon the little threshold veranda, closing the door behind him, quickly. A series of screeches, groans and hisses greeted his 5 Soy eonee it seemed to him that the whole town had turned out in one m for a sea of grim faces and forms filled the width of the street—faces that were of every hy. of expression. Several men fronted the assemblage, on horseback, among whom were Cecil Grosvenor, Arkansas Alf, the Danite Ghoul, and the new Regulator chief, old Bullwhacker. As the miner came out, the Regulator motioned for the crowd to be silent, and when the desired silence was established, he rode a little nearer, and drew rein, “TI suppose you don’t exactly understand the meaning of all this assemblage, eh?’ he said, good- naturedly. ‘If not, I will explain. These people have seen fit to put me ahead of ’em in thet matter, as asort 0’ police, tho’ et’s much ag’in’ my grain. They’ve ordered me ter come here and enforce the rights o° this man at my left, an’ make ye give up ther woman as ye’ve got inside. They’ve got sum leetie proofs ter display, they say, an’ ef et’s all as they allow, I reckon we'll hev ter take the gal, an’ mebbe lock ye up fer trial on charge 0’ abductin’ an- nia t saroayg +i: agal i - at’s this you say?” Sandy cried, sternl —‘ another man’s wife? Whose wife have I been keeping, pray!” ‘‘ My wife!’ Cecil Grosvenor cried, an expression of’gloating triumph upon his bloated face, which was purely devilish. “My wife, Earl Beverly, alias Sandy Whatever- you-call-yourself. The woman inside’ your cabin was eee Y married to me in the city of Richmond, Virgi ess than seven months ago. For some unaccountable reason she fled from my and I have been searching for her ever since, at to find her living here with you, I have enlisted all these people in my cause, and I demand that you de- liver up the woman whom you have harbored and palmed off as a boy.” While the speculator was speaking Sandy stood like one struck dumb. It had never occurred to him that Dusty Dick had been married—he had believed her a maiden whom some villain was trying to coerce or wrong in some way. “Perhaps you have proofs of all that you say Cecil Grosvenor,” he replied, calmly, as he surveyed with composure each face in the crowd. “T have proof enough in this!’ the Washingtonian declared, victoriously, as he waved a sheet of paper in the air. ‘‘Mr. Regulator, please read it, for the edification of the crowd and yonder gentlemen on the steps, if you will be so kind.” Old Bullwhacker received the paper, and glanced it over a moment before wegen, 5 “Tt is a marriage certificate,” he said, finally, ‘‘ of the union of Cecil Grosvenor, of Washington, to Miss Edna Sutton, of Richmond, Virginia, by the Reverend Jackson Dalley, in the presence of several wit- nesses.” “Very well,” Sandy replied—“ that is your say. T'll now see what my pard knows about it.” He turned to the door, opened it, and at a beckon Dusty Dick came out on the veranda, trembling in spite of an effort to be brave. “Dick,” Sandy said, in a tone loud enough to be heard in any part of the crowd, ‘Cecil Grosvenor claims that you are his wife, and shows a certificate of his marriage with you. Tell us what about it.” “Tt is true, so far as the marriage is concerned!” Dick replied, speaking in a clear tone. ‘ At the wish of a dying uncle and guardian, I married that man, believing him to be a gentleman. Is eedily found him out to be a brute. In my father’s will, which came to light six acre ago, after his death, I was willed the whole of his fortune, with the proviso that it should be mine at the age of eighteen, and if I should then marry, my husband was to have control of my ce te It was only at my dying guardian’s advice that I married Cecil Grosvenor. He knew of the provisions in my father’s will, and hoping to get entire posses- sion of my fortune, attempted on several occasions to murder me. To save my life I fled, and came West, posterring that he chould have the money rather than my life. But he pursued me, and hoping to escape him, I donned this male attire and ente the mountains. “This gentleman, whom you call Sandy, was the first to come upon and recognize me as a woman. In terror I begged him to keep my secret, and on learn- ing that I was trying to —— an enemy, he prom- ised—more, volunteered, out of pity for my plight, to make me his pard, trusting that he could do so without impairing his position as a man of honor, which he is. Fool that I was, I came here a lone, helpless woman, only to bring trouble upon my pro- tector and sacred friend. I am not Cecil Grosvenor's legal wife, for since leaving him I have learned that he has a former wife living, from whom he never ob- tained a divorce!” “Tis a lie—a base, malicious falsehood !"’ the Hon- orable Cecil cried, vehemently. ‘‘I never was mar- ried previous to my union with Edna Sutton, of Richmond.” “Tecan swear the contrary!” cried a voice, and then the crowd eparated, and a strange, deeply vailed woman, ch..1 in black, and well mounted upon a powerful steed, rode into the scene at a gallop. ‘Cecil Grosvenor is a liar and a black-hearted bigamist. J am Marie G:osvenor, his only legally wedded wife, and here, Mr. Regulator, is my mar- riage certificate,” and she handed old Bullwhacker a document. ““Tis a black, infamous lie—an ungodly cheat!” cried Cecil Grosvenor, red with furious rage, w he piempsed to draw a revolver; but a couple of Bullwhacker’s men quickly stepped forward and re- lieved him of his weapon, and also served the Danite Ghoul in the same sls “It is true!” replied Bullwhacker, quietly. ‘This document records the marriage of Cecil Grosvenor and Marie Lydia Galton, in Washington, several years ago. ou will please raise your vail, ma’am." The vail was raised—then all of the crowd gave a murmur of surprise, for the woman on the horse was one they had seen repeatedly, and admired, too—the keeper of the dance-house of Whoop-Up, whose beauty stood unequaled—Madame Minnie Majilton, ‘“* You, Marie!” Cecil Grosvenor gasped, in a hoarse tone. ‘ By heaven! I believe you are telling the truth! Why wasitI failed to recognize you be- fore? Your face seemed familiar; but your hair—” “Has been cleverly bleached from its original color,” Madame Minnie replied, with a low laugh. “Cecil Grosvenor, I'd advise you to go back to Washington, and not attempt any more nefarious games. Gentlemen, to give you an idea of the vil- lain as he is, let me tell you that since coming here to Whoop-Up, he proposed to me, his own wife, even while searching for yonder es whom it seems he has inveigled into a wholly illegal match. His bru- tality caused me to quit him years ago; no woman could live with such a beast as he is, for a beast he is in all his nature.” Then the beautifnl blonde wheeled her horse and , ne away, leaving behind her an astonished au- ence, “Gentlemen!” cried_old Bullwhacker, mountin the steps alongside Sandy and Edna, “ ye’ve heard about ther matter. I calkylate et’s been made clear pee that Sandy, heer, has as much right ter purtect the gal as you or I, ain't et? Them as thinks my way make et manifest by sayin’ I a Contrary, no ere was a tremendous yell of “I,” without » single dissenting voice. and then the crowd die
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14 Beadle’s Half:Dime Library. rsed, leaving only Cecil Grosvenor and Calamity ane behind. “Took out for me, Earl Beverly!’ the Washing- tonian cried, as he shook one clenched fist toward the shanty—“‘look out for me, for this matter has not yet reached its climax. You, a forger and a murderer, shall pay the penalty ere I leave the =. : Both of you shall die, as my daughter Elise ied!’ j Then he strode away, with oaths upon his burning ps. ‘All that is evil isin that man,” Sandy mused, as he watched the retreating form. “Hello! is that you, Calamity?” as the girl came up. ‘What is it?” ““T wished to speak with you a moment, for I think that you are in greater peril than before. You see the man standing over there on the bank of the creek? Well, he is the Charley Davis, of whom I spoke. He has come here to oop-Up on an im- rtant mission, and, moreover, he knows you, as rl Beverly. Sandy, were you ever guilty of any criminal act in the East?” The miner’s face became tinged with a grayish vallor, and his eyes looked wild at the question. “Crime!” he gasped, a sudden tremor passin over his frame—“ guilty? My God, I had hopec never to be asked that question again. Yes—in the eyes of the law I ama criminal—a forger, and an ac- cused murderer. You heard Cecil Grosvenor throw it upin my face; it is the only weapon he has to brand me with. If he were in the States, where law reigns supreme, he would have me more in his power. Of the murder part I am innocent—the other; but, bah! why tell you. I know what you would say, Calamity Jane—that man, Davis, is a de- tective, and has come to arrest me!"’ * Alas! Sandy, I have every reason to believe so, for he knows you, and has come here to find two men—you and Cecil Grosvenor!”’ “Then, go tell him to come here and do his duty. If he wants me,I shall not refuse to go, for after fleeing from the States once to evade arrest, I am not eager to become a fugitive again. I may as well submit, and stand my trial now as in the hereafter; I shall have to have t, sometime.” *But not now!” Calamity said, solemnly. ‘‘Lis- ten to, and obey me, and you will afterwards thank me for my counsel. That man was once my lover, and is still, for that matter, and I can influence him. I will get him out of the way; then you are to get a couple of mules and two saddle-horses, pack u our worldly effects, and slide out of town wit na during the night. Is is your best move, for the present. Before you come back—but never mind. Just out of town you will meet an Indian boy, who will take you to a deserted cabin in Pica- ne Guich, where you are to remain until I come. romise me you will do this.” “T promise. You are a genius, Calamity, and I will trust you.” It won't once, anddo you think I would desert you in your dark hour? No, indeed! That would not be womanly. I will go with you wherever you go, until you are freed from Cecil Grosvenor’s scheming; then—”’ She did not finish the sentence, but went on k- ing up. With the cloud still on his brow, dy assisted. The property to be moved did not amount to much of a load when it was all gathered. Sandy ownied several horses and mules, and he soon had a couple of saddle-horses and pack animals at the door. The Danite Ghoul in passing took notice of the fact, and hunted Cecil Grosvenor up, in a saloon, where he had taken | ngs, after being promptly kicked out of the Mastodon by Colonel Joe Tubbs, immediately after the mine explosion. “Sandy an’ the gal’s pullin’ out o’ town,” the Danite said. ‘Shall I foller em?” “Yes, do so by all means!” Grosvenor replied fiercely. ‘They think to escape me, but wi find their mistake. Find out where they go, and then report to me. Here are fifty dollars; see that you serve me well.” Arkansas Alf bowed evilly, and, after drinking at the bar, hurried out into the night, and hired him- self a horse, preparatory to following the fugitives. CHAPTER XVI. DEVELOPMENTS EXTRAORDINARY—CONCLUSION. Arrer every thing was in readiness, Sandy and Dusty Dick mounted their horses, and leading the ack-mules behind, stole quietly out of the town, king the northern course of the gulch. Fortunate- ly there were few men on the street along the route, since all the saloons and gaming-hells and dance- houses were located further south, and the fugitives got safely beyond where civilization had pitched its canvas in the gulch. Here they were met by an Indian lad, as Cala- mity had prophesied, who offered to conduct them to the deserted cabin in Picayune Gulch, an aban- doned claim on the trail to Deadwood. So they followed his lead, and by early day-dawn were established in an old, tumbledown mass of in a dismal ravine between the mountains. mules were unpacked and turned out to graze, end things were arranged about the cabin as com- fortably as possible, the Indian lad assisting to bring wood and build a fire upon the broad hearth. He also fetched in a haunch of mountain deer, which he | had killed, and helped Edna—still personating Dusty Dick—to prepare a savory meal, “This seems like being banished to some isolated portion of the earth,’’ Sandy said. He was sitting in the doorway, gazing around dis- contentedly upon the impressive wilderness spread out before him. “*Thaven’t the least idea I shall stay here long, unless civilization follows me here.” “You won’t go back to Whoop-Up?”’ Edna inter- rogated, pausing in her work of roasting the meat. * Probably. Calamity compromises with, or sends that detective off the track, I. shall go back and attend to my interests for awhile. First, however, I shall take unto me a wife.” “You speak with a | ae deal of assurance, sir.” ‘““And know whereof I speak,” Sandy replied, with a triumphant smile. The breakfast was abe op No and dispatched; then, leaving the Indian boy at the cabin, Sandy called to Buffalo, shouldered his rifle, and started off in search of game. This time he kept his eye out in search of bears, lest he should have another unwel- come adventure with one of the fierce tribe. About noon he returned to the cabin with a fine brace of game. He found his pard alone, and in great agita- tion. “The enemy !’’ she gas interrogative look. “ ‘““Eh? They are?—how do you know?” ‘The Indian boy has discovered them entering the gulch, and has gone to watch them. Ah! here he comes now;”’ as the young red-skin came trotting leisurely up the bluff on which the cabin stood. “Well, what is this about intruders, boy?’’ the mi- ner demanded. ‘‘ Where are they?” “There!” the youth replied, pointing down the leh, to where several horsemen were rounding a end. As they were still at too great a distance to be recognized by the naked eye, TT procured a field-glass from among his effects, and leveled it at them, inquiringly. “Hal” he muttered, with a visible start, ‘‘ what can this mean? Can it be possible that we have been betrayed and decoyed off to this place for foul pur- poses?’ “Why? what is it—who are they?’ Dusty Dick de- manded, anxiously. “Who?” the miner gritted, with flashing eyes— ““who, indeed, but those I have counted friends, now in company with my enemy. Itis our com- bined enemy Cecil Grosvenor, accompanied by Ca- lamity Jane, the detective, Davis, and old Bull- whacker, with four of his Regulators.” “Do you think they are coming for you?’ Dick asked, her voice trembling, and one hand clutching the miner’s arm, convulsively. ‘Oh! Sandy, what if they should be coming to murder us—or part us?” “Don’t worry, little one; we'll wait and see. If I find out that ‘there's any treachery afoot, Ill blow the brains out of Cecil Grosvenor and Calamity Jane, and then fight the others. I can’t quite make it seem, though, that the girl is so false and treach- erous as would seem by a glance at yonder crowd.” With anxiously-beating hearts the trio at the cabin waited outside the cabin door, each armed with a nifle—for the Indian youth had taken a decided lik- ing to Sandy, and signified his willingness to fight, should it be necessary. Nearer and nearer the cavalcade came, and at last Calamity Jane held up a white rag on the muzzle of her gun, as a flag of truce, and Sandy, half doubtful what to do, waved his hat for them to approach. ‘We'll give em a show anyhow!” he muttered. “Watch ’em sharp, and if you see a treacherous move, let *’em have the contents of your revolvers, for they sha’n’t take us without a struggle!” Nearer and nearer the cavalcade approached, and finally halted upon the plot in front of the cabin, and at a word from Calamity Jane dismounted. Sandy and histwo companions had retreated a few paces, and put their backs against the cabin wall— each held a pair of cocked revolvers leveled upon the new-comers, ready for instant emergency. After dismounting, Cecil Grosvenor turned toward his foe, with a bland smile of triumph. “You may as well put up your weapons, Sandy!” he declared, ‘‘for you see that we are over two to your one, You also see that I came eal to take you and hang you up, and I’m go ng to do it. Money is the root of all evil, and with some of the root I bought over these present to assist me in put- ting an end to you. So, you may as well surrender, instead of putting us to the trouble of shooting you down where you stand!” **No!” Sandy thundered; ‘‘I will never surrender, and he is a dead man who tries to take me! Calam- ity Jane, what am I to understand—have you joined with this villain and betrayed us?” “Waal, et ruther luks that hie don’t et?” the dare-devil replied, with a grim smile; “ but, ye see, such ain't the case. When Calamity Jane goes back on a pard, ye can calkylate on ther world’s comin’ teranend. Mr. Davis, you'll be kind enough to do yer duty, an’ put Sandy’s doubts at rest.” “Very well. My duty, ladies and gentlemen, lies in arresting this man, Cecil Grosvenor, of Washing- ton, for bank robbery in said city, in May last. Re- gulators, seize him.” With alacrity the men obeyed, and even before the villainous speculator could gasp out his surprise, he was handcuffed securely. * Curses and furies! what means this outr: , in answer to Sandy’s ey are coming to attack eous | insult to a law-abiding citizen?” he roared, livid with e. ‘Release ine!’ “Sorry for you, Mr. Grosvenor, but that ain’t in | Shortl | the line of my duty!’ Davis replied, with a smile. | ‘I’ve been laying for you ever since you left Wash- ington, and when we all accepted of your offer of money this morning, the matter was arranged be- tween myself and these gentiemen and Calamity, You are my prisoner, and must go back to Washing- ton and stand your trial as a defaulter and robber.” “And, I dare say, you calculate to take me along at the same time, ch?” Sandy said, with sarcasm. “On the contrary, no, Mr. Beverly. It isa par of my business here, to implicate Cecil Grosvenor and free you from guilt. If you will listen, 1 will re- late you a little story: “ Several years ago—it does not matter about datey —you were a clerk in a banking office, of which Ceci Grosvenor was the president. You had a small for- tune of your own, and knowing this, this man, Gros- venor, made friends with you—invited you to his; grand home, which was graced by a beautiful and aristocratic daughter. Here you were tempted by as fair and scheming a siren as ever reigned in tho al and led into dissipation. Once started you had no control over yourself, and soon lost your position and sunk deeper and deeper into the sloughs: of drunkenness. Nor did you stop until you were suddenly awakened to the fact that you had squan- dered your own available cash, and forged your employer's name to the tune of five thousand do ‘Elise Grosvenor hurled this ross charge in your face one day while you were riding along a steep highwa on the shore of the Potomac. ‘At the time you were, as usual, full of liquor, and the taunt maddened you. In an excess of rage, you drew a pistol and fired at her, and just at t moment, Cecil Grosvenor came Jeger 3 after you in hot pursuit. You saw him—saw the frightened steed of Elise Grosvenor plunge over the dizzy hight with its rider; then you put spurs to your horse, and_escaped. You were never afterward seen in the East. Is this not true?” “All true!’’ Sandy replied, his head bowed and Sr “Well, it chanced that at this time an old uncle had died, and deposited with Cecil Grosvenor, fer you, a fortune of some fifteen thousand dollars, Of this you never knew, and, as the world was as igno- rant as you, it all went in toincrease the Grosvenor millions, Since then, Cecil Grosvenor has made and lost money—is now worth millions, but it is all in under his brother’s name, His latest crime has been to leave Washington, after robbing several banks of large sums, he having official connection with such “Exactly !’ Cecil Grosvenor said, triumphantly; “but, even allowing that all P he have said be true, you have not yet cleared 1 Beverly of murder and forgery.” “We will get to that presentl:,” Davis said, with a smile. “ Little less than six months ago, while searching for you, I assisted in a raid on a faro-bank and dance-house in Kansas City. Among the crea- tures there we found one at the point of death, and, from her lips, I copied down her dying confession. She was Elise Grosvenor, once the Washington belle, She had not been killed on that day when her horse leaped into the Potomac, as supposed, but had been rescued, and, with her own consent, was carried in a yacht to New Orleans, to pursue a_ career which ended in death in a gambling den. In her confes- sion, Earl Beverly, she declared you to be innocent of the crime of forgery. One night, when you were stupefied by drink, she and an accomplice had forged the checks, and given them to you to get cashed which you did, without knowing of your sin. So, 1 have referred the confession to the Washington au- thorities, and to-day, Earl Beverly, you stand before the world an innocent man!” “Thank God!” was all that Sandy could find voice to utter; then he staggered and fell in a swoon, strong, self-controlled man though he was. The news of his innocence was too much for him to bear. Carefully he was raised and borne into the cabin by Davis, the detective, and Old Bullwhacker, an anxious hands worked swiftly over him until he was restored to consciousness. He awoke from his in- sensibility with a start; then, when he comprehen- ded all, he bowed his head in silent prayer. He had scarcely finished, when there was a rifle-shot, and Cecil Grosvenor, who had been left outside in charge of a ator, was seen to throw up his arms and fall to the ground. Before those inside the cabin could reach him, his last spark of life had gone out—he had played his last game-ca and died. A bullet from some unseen avenger ha done the deadly work! At Sandy’s <4 ee a hasty search was made, but. no one could be found in the vicinity on whom to lay the charge of the assassination. “In my opinion, the blow has been dealt by that woman, Madame Majilton, who claimed to be his wife!” said Charley Davis. ‘Leaving you here, I will hasten to Whoop-Up, and learn if? she has been seen to leave the town. And hastily mounting his horse, the detective took his departure, The body of Cecil Grosvenor was lifted and borne into the cabin. : The clothing was carefully searched by Calamit, and Sandy, and as a result some six thousand do}- lars were found, in bank-notes, sewed in tho lining of the coat. This money was retained by Bullwhacker, to give over to the detective. At sunset that night, all that was of the flesh of the murdered villain, was con- signed to the ve, after being placed in a rude coffin which the Regulators had fashioned out of some timbers. after, Detective Davis returned from Whoop-Up, accompanied by a delegation of citizens, <-- i Se ai eg
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x#_}{}{}{jwr(qtstqgwsqqqqgwwoooowwwo#}$}0@™—”—™—™—™—™—™—”—”—”—9@—@—@—@—@@$—@FEO0@$™—™$—™—@@N0——”—”—0—”—909 TTT 10c., 10c. 10c. 10e. 10c. 10c, 10e, 10c. 10e. 10c. 10e. 10e, 10c. 10e, 10e. 10e, 10c, 10c. 10e. 10e. 10c. 10c, 10e. 10e. 10c, 10c, 10c. 10c, 10c, . 10¢, 10. 10c 10c, 10e, 10c. 10c, 10c, 10e. 10c, 10e. 10c, 10c. 10e, 10c. 10c, 10c. 10c. 10c. 10c. 10c. 10c, 10c. 10¢, 10c. 10¢, 10c. 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. The Sunnyside Library. 4 THe Lapy or rHE Lake. Sir Walter Scott... 5 Lucite. By Owen Meredith .. e 6 UNDINE, OR THE Warer-Spirrr. From the German of Friederich De La Motte Fouque... 10c. 10¢ 10c. 10c, For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, postage paid. on receipt of twelve cents for single num double numbers twenty-four cents. ' ADAMS, VICTOR & CO., Publishers, 98 William street, N. Y. 15 The Model Weekly! The Popular Paper and Home Weekly of New York. | For 1879. A SUPERB CHRISTMAS NUMBER, An Elegant Two Full-Pages Illustration. Four Extra Pages, making the number contain TwELve Paces, without any increase of price. OUR CHRISTMAS GIFT! Filled with the best Serials, Sketches, Stories of all kinds, and a jarge amount of matter especially ap- propriate to the day and occasion, from the pens of THE BEST AUTHORS IN AMERICA, In this Christmas number commences the brilliant new romance, by the celebrated and favorite actor- author, ALBERT W. AIKEN, THE FRESH OF FRISCO: THE HEIRESS OF BUENAVENTURA A STORY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. One of the most excit and intensely interest: works ever produced by the author of ‘ Overlan Kate”? S Tujun Dick;” *‘ The Police Spy;” “The Wolf Demon;” “The Witches of New York;” “The Ace of Spades,” etc., ete. In this same issue are also ven the opening chap- ters of an enchanting and deeply absorbing Love and Passion Romance, by the ever-welcome RETT WINWOOD, The Bride of Sixteen ; THE GULF BETWEEN THEM. Also Tales, Sketches, Narratives, Poems, etc., ete. by Oll Coomes, Joseph E. Badger, Jr., oe. Fred hittaker, Ed. re by age Torey ~ agg . E. Rex- ford, T. C. Harbaugh, arles Morris, Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell, Mattie D. Britts, The Parson’s Daugh- ter, Eve Lawless, Philp S. Warne, etc., etc., all of whom are regular or exclusive contributors, Stars of the Star Journal! while Buffalo Bill, Capt. Satterlee Plummer, Co- rinne Cushman, Mrs, Jennie D. Burton, Frank Daves A. P. Morris, give to it their very best work—all of which serve to render the paper The Most Attractive, The Most Varied in Interest, The Most Useful, Entertaining and Desirable POPULAR PAPER PUBLISHED IN AMERICA, Also soon to be given, a new and characteristic story, by the author of Jack Harkaway, (BRACEBRIDGE HEMYNG,) DICK DIMITY; oR, THE PET OF THE FAMILY. A st e story of a Haunted Boy and a Phantom Father. Sure to immensely please. In Jack Hark- away’s most inimitable vein, The Star Journal is Published Weekly at the following jates: PDT GO © oo acs las nd. fete $1.00 Worms yema’ 5's, so aslscs 4. tsa sk ee 8. Two copies for one year. ».......0..0ccsessereees 5.00 ION ist at thes ade i 6 cts. Supplied by all newsdealers. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pust: 98 Witt §r., New ORK, —
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a Complete 1 Deadwood Dick, Tx Prince or THE Roap. By Edward L. Wheeler. 2 Yellowstone Jack; or, Tas TRaprrmr or vu Bycuanrep Gnownp. By J. B. Badger, Jr. 3 Migpeee Hing ; or, Tae Rep Rient By B Bal (ion. Wm. F. Cody). 4 gt Wild-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Reid and Gapt. Frederick Whittaker. 5 Ssu.niegt Joe; Tas Younc WanvDzER- Inc Juw. By Oll Coomes. 6 Bill Biddon, er Te or, Lire IN me NORTHWEST. 3 The Flying Yankee; or, Tue pms Oomas Ovreast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham Seth Jones; or, Tom CapTivEs OF THE Frontise. By Edward §. Ellis. 8) The Adventures of Baron Mun- chausen. 1 Nat Todd; or, Tam Farr or THE Sioux Captive. By Edward 8. Bilis. 1] The Two. Detectives; or, THE Fortunes or 4 Bowery Giri. A.W. Aiken. 1 Gulliver's Travels. A Voyage to Lilliput, and a Voyage to Brobdingnag. 13 The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes, author of “ Vagabond Joe,” etc. 14 ea or, Tae WonpDERFUL 1 erry Soa-Cat; or, Tas WircH oF Darien. By Capt. Frederiek Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and Surprising Adventures, (27 illustrations.) 17 Ralph Rey, The Boy Bucea- neer. By Col. Prentiss lagraham. 1 bes Sindbad the Sailor. His seven voy- ages. From the Arabian Nights. 19 he Phantom or, Tos Pmor Tae PRAIRaS. 2 The Double Daggers * pas woop Drox’s Duruanez. By 2 ee Se 22 The Sea Serpent: or, Tae Bor Ronrmvsom Onvsou. By Gol, Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o’ the Night: or, Tas Boy Sey or "6, By T. 0. Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk: or, Tum Mysrpry oy tas Yaunowssons. By Col. Ingraham. 2 5 The Boy se oe or, Fee Ppeeee 26 ta Hoof, the Demon. By Béward L. Wheeler. 27 Antolane 2, Abe, the Boy Guide. 28 Buffalo Ben; or. Puapwoop Diex ix Duscutss, By Edward L. Wheeler. 20." Pe tte Be Peg Re erect me 31 Keen-Knife, Tum Prom or THE Prargums, By Oll Coomes. 32 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian: . or, Ta Grat Deap-Swor. &. L.Wheeler. 33 The Ocean Bloodhound ; a? THE Rep Prrates or Tau Carrssues, 8. W. Pierce. 3 Ore Sol; or, Nick WHIFFLEs’ Boe ser. By Capt. J.F. C, Adams. 3 5 Wild Ivan, Tx Boy CLaupE DuVAL; By Edward L. Wheeler. 36 The Boy Clown; or, THz QuEEN oF vam Angna. By Frank 8. Finn. 3 ¥ The Hidden Lodge; or, Tux Litrie Huwrer or Tos AprronDACKS. Harbaugh. 38 Ned Wylde, Tux Bor Scour. By Texas Jack. BEADLE’S HALF-JIME LIBRARY. Every ome of them “Live” Stories by **‘ Live®? Authors. Novel, at the extraordinary price of a HALF-DIME, Each number 39 Death-Face, the Detective. By | vg es Corduroy Charlie; or, Tus Last Wheeler, Edward L. Ro Ben. A story of a Youn 40 ride ©, By John J. Marshall. ¥ 41 Lasso Jack, THs Youna Mustane- mr. By Oll Coomes. 4 » The Phantom Miner: or, Drap- woop Dick’s Bonanza, By Ed. L. Wheeler. 4. Dick Darling, the Pony Express Rider. a apt. F. Whittaker. 44 Rattling Rube: or, THe Nieaxrt- HAWKS OF oKYy. By Harry St. George. 4. 5 Old Avalanche, the Great An- nihilator. By Edward L. Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, the Great Shot of the West. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 47 Nightingale Nat: on, Tue Forest APTAINS, By T. C. Harbaugh. 48 Black John, the ene By Jos. E. Badger, Jr, 49 Omaha Oll; or, DEADwoop ies In Danopr. By Edward L. Wheeler. 50 Burt Bunker, THe Trapper. A Tale of the Northwest. By C. E. Lasalle. 5 The Boy Rifles, or, THe UnvER- GROUND Fics: By Archie ©. Tron. 52 The White Buffalo. A Tale of Strange Adventure. Charles E. Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., THz Boy Puentx; or, TRROUGH TO THE DaaTH. KB. L. Wheeler. 54 Ned Hazel, Tom Bor Trapper; or, rua Poantom Princess. By J. F. C. Adams. 5 5 Dewi Ts: Taz Unknown Scout; 56 Nick Whiffles’ Pet, or, InN THE Vater or Dears. Capt. J. F.C. Adama, 5 7 Deadwood Dick’s Bagless: ; Se Tar Parps or Froop Barn. E 58 The Border King; or, Tax aca Fos. By Oll Coomes. 59 old SS ts: e iaet Panpy ELuis’s ITy 60 The White Indian; or, Tax Scout of THE YELLOWSTONE. By J. F. C. Adams. 61 at res +5 Bill, or, Taz Rep Rirtz By Edward L. Wheeler. 62 The ited Ship, or, Tae RrvaL Lapurmu;rs, By Co: Prentiss Ingraham, 63 The Red Brotherhood, or, THE By W. J. Hamilton. Tweive Aveneunrs, 64 Dandy Jack, or, Taz OvTLAW OF REGON Tram. By T. C. Harbaugh. 6 Hurricane Bill, or, Mustane Sam axp mas “Panp.” By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 66 re Band. or, LirE For a Larg. 67 Patent-Leather Joe: or, OLD Rat- TLESNAKE, THE CHARMER, By P.S.Warne. 68 The Border Robin Hood; or, THE Prater Rover. By Buffalo Bill. 69 Gold Rifle: or, Taz Boy Drrective or THE BLack Rancu. By E. L. Wheeler. 70 Old Zip’s Cabin; or, THe Green- HORN IN THE Woops, By J. F, C. Adams, m4 1 Delaware Dick; THz Youna Ran- arr Spy. By Oll Coomes, 12 Mad Tom Western, THz TEXAN Ranerr. By W. J. Hamilton. "13 Dea@wood Dick on Deck. By Edward L. Wheeler. Hawk-eye . THe Youne 44 Thareae Figg UN Coomes, The Boy Duelist Hg 75 e oy 3 or RUISE OF THE Bea Wor. By Col. P. 76 Abe Cols, Ge. Crow-Killer. By Aer or DEapwoop Dick. By E. L. Wheeler. f & Blue Dick; or, Tor Yeruow (‘uIEr’s Venemance. By Captain Mayne Reid. cy 9g Sol Ginger, THe Giant Traprer. By Albert W. Aiken, $5 Rosebud Rob; or, Nuccer Nrp, THE KnicGur oF THE GuLcH. By E. L. Wheeler. Si seas Jo, THE TEKROR OF THE y Captain J. F. C. Adams &2 Kit Harefoot, THE WocD-Hawk; or, Oup Powper-Face. By T. C. Harbaugh. 3 Rollo, the Boy Ranger; or, THE HEIREss OF THE Genciei Horn. Ol] Coomes, 4. idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosesup B ON Hanp. By Edward ik Wheeler. & 5 Buck Buckram: or, Bess, 1) # Fr- MALE TRAPPER. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 6 Demy Rock, THE-MaAn-rrom-TEx- yy G. Waldo Browne. 7 The Land Pirates: orn, THK LEAGUE or Duvit’s Isuanp. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 8 Fhoto ph Phil: or, Rosesup Ros’s gE em By Ed. L, Wheeler. &9 Island Jim: or, THE PET oF THE Faminy. By author of “Jack Harkaw. ay.” 90 The Dread Rider: on, THE TEXAN Duxrust. By George ®. Jrowne, 9g The Captain of the Club. B~ Bracebridge Hemyng, (Jack Harkaway.) 92 Canada Chet; or, OLD ANAconr in Sirtine Buuw’s Camp. By E. L. Wheels + 8) 3 The Boy Miners; or, Tux Encnantri Istanp. By Hdward 8. Ellis. 94 Ere anak Tue Roap-AGENT. 95 The Rival Rovers. By Lieutenant Col. Haseltine. 9 Watch - Bye, tH» Derecrive. By Bdward L. eeler. 97 The Outlaw Brothers: or, Tnx Captive or tHe Harpms. By J. J. Marshali, 9g & Rebin Hood, THe OvTLAWED Earu. By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve. 99 re eS of Taos. By George 0 100 gap eg + ton be ae Pg in Leadvil'e. 1 O 1 Jack Harkaway in New York. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 10 Dick Dead-Eye, Tux Boy Smuvuc- eturR. By Col. ntiss Ingraham. 103 The Lion of the Sea. By Col. Delle Sara, 1 Deadwood Dick’s Device. By Edward L. Wheeler. 105 Old Rube, Tas Hunter; or, THy Crow Cartirvz. By Capt. H. Holines. 106 on pron the Guide. By 107 One-Eyed Sim; or, THE Apan- DONED Forest Home. By J. L. Bowen. 108 Daring aoe dy & THE Youne BEAR arry St. George. 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. Ready August 26th. 1 10 The Black Steed of the Prai- ries. By James L. Bowen. Ready September 2d, 1 1 1 The Sea-Devil; or, THE Mipsuip- mAN’s Lecacy. By Col. P. 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