Beadle's Pocket Library (no. 68) (1885 04 29)
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Copyrighted, 1885, by Bate any ApAns, Entored at the Post Office at New York, N. ¥., as Second Class Mall Matter, April 29, 1888, 5 Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams Price, Vol, VI. arene: No. 98 wide ae, New York. f Five Conte. No, 68, IDYL, THE GIRL MINER: or, rosesuo ROB ON HaNo, BY EDWARD L. WHEELER. . “Ready, gents?” cried Simmonds, briskly. ‘One, two, ‘hree!”? The word had scarcely passed his lips, i ere the knives left the hands of the duelists and went whizzing ominously through the air, :
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2 Idyl, the Girl Miner. ~— Idyl, the Girl Miner; ROSEBUD ROB ON HAND. Rosebud Rob Novels, No. 2. BY EDWARD L, WHEELER, ‘DEADWOOD DICK” NOVELS, ‘ ROSEBUD ROB”? NOVELS, ETC., ETC. AUTHOR CHAPTER I. THE SPORT AND THE GAMESTER—THE UNKNOWN. Tue opening scene isin Hayward City—a notable mining-town, which has contributed its share toward making for the Black Hills country a reputation and notoriety second to none in the world as a district of mineral wealth and picturesque scenery, and with the most motley group of citizens within the scope of a continent. ; We conduct the reader into a strange se2ne with- in the walls of an establishment known asthe “Fall Hand ”’—an enormous hand, manufactured of wood, holding a pack of cards, and hung above the en- trance, giving the plaice its name. It was exclusively a gambling den, run upon a large scale. No liquors were solid within the walls, and it was frequen’ed only by the better class. The * Full Hand” was not divided, but left in one long parlor, which was handsomely carpeted and the walls hung with fine pictures. The tables and chairs were all tus best of their kind, and everything about the apartment was suggestive of elezance. It is evening, and about the marble-top marbles under the brilliant lamp-chandeliers, are gathre1 men of allages; butit is noticeable thatall are quirt in demeanor, and moreover, generally well-dresse1. Many, judged by their attirs, are Easterners, while others, at a glanes, are children of the Western plains or mountains, One figure of the throng attracted special atten- tion—that of a woman in mle attire. Everybody knows and ree%gnizes her by a nod, as she saunters about; indeed. it must be a stranger in the country of gold who has not seen or, at least, heard of the twin dare-devils—Calamity Jane and Baltimore Bess, It was the latter who was now saunterinzg abont the parlor of the Full Hand, watching now and then the different games, or the votaries thereof. She pauses before a table where two men are playing poker, and looks on complacently. A glance tells her that they are strangers in the minos. The one is a young fellow of perhaps twenty-five fegeaan brawny, stalwart son of the West, whose mbs speak of iron and musele. He was clad in a hunting-suit of some coarse dark stuff. liberally fringed with fur of the mink, while knee-boots, a bet of weapons, and a black slouch hat completed his ou' fit. His face was one that many would fancy—a dark face, with Spanish blood coursing through the veins —a face that though dark was capable of expression soft and tender. The features were all well-cast; the eyes wer? as black as jot, with a shrewd, wild light in their glance; and a pointed mustache, and long hair that swept the shoulders, were of a corre- sponding hue. .The man’s companion was a florid, fat-faced indi- vidual, with sandy hair, colorless eyes, and a luxuri- ant pair of “ Burnsides,” which ever and anon he stroked complacently. His clothing was all of the finest texture and cut; his shirt-front immaculate, and studded with diamonds, and his vest-front orna- mented with a golden cable-chain. A jaunty Derby hat and a sinzle eye-glass completed the make-up of a genuine English aristocrat. And it appeared that the Britisher was no novice at card-playing, for he won with a regularity that was astonishing—to Baltimore Bess, at least, who was an authority in such matters. “See heer, Spanish!” she said, with a whistle denoting surprise, “how much has that chap wi’ ther sluggins won out 0’ yer pile?” The Spaniard looked up and surveyed the girl keenly. bh square hundred, miss,’’ he said, after a mo- ment. Why?” “Because | do hate to see an Englisher get ahead o’ us Americans. Did ye evyer heer ther story about ther American who went over to see John Bull? Wal, this chap war s'own around by an obliging citizen, and expressed his opinyun o° abe cee. as werry appropriate. Finally they entered a hos ital among the sick and dyin’. There, lo! an’ ehold. war the picter o’ George Washington hung up in plain view. : “*What think you of that?’ the Brit. demanded, maliciously, “*T think if werry appropriate ter ther occasion,’ war the Yank’s reply. “* Tow so?’ the Brit. ag’in asked, in surprise. “Oh! thet’s easy enuff. Thet picter hung np in an English sick room, ar’ a werry expressive em- blem. Yeknow thar nevyer war a feller asmade John Bull muen sicker then thet same George 0’ hatchet fame!’ An’ thet’s my exact idea!” concluded Bess amid roars of laughter from the bystanders. The Spaniard also smiled, as he noted his oppo- nent bit : his lips. 4 The game went on and the Spaniard lost at ever: turn, while the Englishman smiled and stroked his beard with the grandiloquent manner of a conquer- or. _ The game is mine, Sir Svaniard,” he said, rak- ie the pile with a flourish. ‘You are broke, eh? “You have all my money,” the Spaniard replied, bitterly. “T was a fool to wrestle against fate But it isno time to back out now. I must have back.my money. It is not mine. but Berenice’s. Will any ove loan me ten dollars to turn the game?” There was no response. None were there, evidently, who cared to back the gambler. ‘“You had a boy with youa bit avo. Just for the novelty of the thing, put him up,” the Englishman said, with a strange glitter in his eyes. “He is a ee lad, and I'll offset him with a hundred dollars.” The Spaniard started violently, and shut his teeth together savagely. A terrible spell seemed to be working upon him. His chest heaved, and his breath came sharp and quick. “Curse you!” he gasped, witha shudder. ‘You have it all your own way. - If I lose—what then?” “Why, naturally, [have the boy. What I winT ma‘e it a point to keep. Come, decide at once. If youwish to risk the boy, put him up and win back what you have lost—if you can. Otherwise, I'll bid youa pleasant good-night.” The Spaniard bowed his head upon his hands, a eae evidently struggling with the tempta- ion. Then, 2 moment later, he rose to his feet, his dusky face pale and stern, and aterrible glitter in his eyes, as he gazed at the English gamester. “T am obliged to make the venture!” he said, huskily. “Itis a terrible thing fora father to risk his only child upon a game of chance, but the money T have lost belonged to Berenice. I must win it back, or ny wife will ne’er again look upon my face.”’ There was a pathos in the tone of the speaker that impressed the bystanders deeply, and they gath- ered about the table, of one accord, with bated breath to watch. Giving a peculiar whistle, the Spaniard called to his side the pager he was to make against his OP ROs nent—a bright-faced, sunny-haired little boy of five
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Idyl, the Girl Miner. 3 or six years, who was clad in trowsers and jacket, with tiny top-boots upon his feet, and a small fur cap upon his wavy golden hair. A sweet little fellow he was, and a murmur of ad- miration escaped the lookers-on as the Spaniard raised him upon his knee, **Gentlemen!”’ the Spaniard said, ‘‘I am about to risk my little son upon agame of chance. My name is the same name that, years ago, threw the south- western gold mines into a phrensy of excitement, and I am the son of the noted road-rider, whose name I bear—Jor quin Murivte !” A low murmur ran through the room, and curious glances were leveled upon the Junior Joaquin: for there were men in the den who had lived in the days of the senior, and had had dealings with him that caused his dark face ever to be in theireyes. After a moment, Joaquin. Jr., went on: “Tam going to risk my son, in order that I may win back that which was intrusted to my eare by a loving wife. Little Pet,” and the man looked into the pretty up-turned face of his child, with a tear glistening in either eye—‘‘ Little Pet, do you under- stand? If I lose this game, that man across the table owns you, and will take you away from meand mamma!” A startled, scared look came over the face of the child. as he regarded the English gamester through his big blue eyes. He did not seem to understand the full meaning of the words—it was more his child- ish fear of strangers which caused him to blanch. “Come!” the gambler said, Sep “If you are oing to play. drop the boy, and deal the paste- Fosadia. I have other business to attend to, to- night!” f Joaquin kissed his child twice upon the forehead, and then stood him up on the tloor by his side. He turned to the game, like one moved by me- chanism. ry A The crowd about the table had increased in num- bers, and all stood with silent interest to watch the ame. ¥ Baltimore Bess raised Little Pet up in her arms. “Ye purty little picter!” she murmured, stroking back the soft sunny hair. ‘‘So they’re goin’ ter gamble you off, eh? Et’s a blasted shame, an’ ef I know it Baltimore Bess ‘Il be around ter purtect you. Do you love mamma, Pet?” “T love mamma and papa?” the little fellow said, Sieenes hisarms about herneck. ‘‘AndIlove you, oo! Something ‘like a tear came into Bess’s feye, but she quickly brushed it away. The game was now opened. The Englishman was cool, confident. The Spaniard was nervous, and trembled visibly, although he endeavored to shake off his agita- tion. He was conscious that all eyes were upon him— conscious that he was losing that which, next to a loving wife, he held dearest to his heart. At last, he threw down the only card in his hand, and staggered to his feet, witha gasp. While the cool, cynical voice of the Britisher said: “JY am the winner, sir. and the boy is mine!’ “Yes, yours!”” Joaquin said, hoarsely. “My Goi! what a fool I have been! What a madman to be- lieve I could change my luck!” A hush of death prevailed within the room. Every eye was turned upon the Spaniard. His face had grown strangely white, his limbs seemed momentarily paralyzed; he reeled like one in a state of intoxication, “The boy is mine!’ repeated the winner, a spice of the malicious in his tone, as he glanced at the in- nocent child. “You need not fear for the welfare of your off- spring, Sir Joaquin. As it happens that I am an Bneglish lord, I'll bring the little fellow up, and make a title for him.” “A title!” Joaquin gasped, glaring at him wildly. “* 4 title! That does not give me back my child!” “ Well. no, not exactly,” the other returned, with asarcastic laugh. ‘There is no law that can take him away from me now!” “Ho! hol” exclaimed Baltimore Bess. ‘Thet’s ther wrong kind o’ fruit fer buzzards to eat, John Bull. Ef ther court ain’t of, I’ve got the lad, an’ ossession’s two or sey'ril p’ints 0’ ther law, accord- in’ ter ther hymn books; an’, as thar’s none thet know better how ter handle a six-shooter, I'm bet- tin’ ther galoot ye kall Joaquin, he hes his b’yee, ef he wants et!” The Englishman adjusted his eye-glass and stared at the dare-devil in astonishment. “Oh! ye needn't peek at me thr’u’ thet small-sized windy-pane,” the girl continued, unabashed, ‘“‘Ji’s me, way down ter terrazirn a, you bet! Baltimore Bess is my fronticepiece, ef ye want ter know et. Here, Joaquin, junior, take your child, and I'll dare! —ay! double-dare!—any man present ter try ter hinder you!” The Spaniard started forward, half-eagerly; but the next moment he staggered back again, his face stern and pale as death, “No!” he said, a hoarse menace in his tone, “TI will not take the child. The Englishman won, and I never squirm out of my wagers. If, however, I can raise money enough *twixt this and morning, I will play to win him back.” “On the contrary, you will do nothing of the kind,” the lord said, with a chuckle. “I refuse, hereafter, to flip so much as a single card with you. Come! bid your child adieu, for I wish to retire to my hotel!” A murmur of indignation was heard on either hand; but it did not seem to affect the winner, for nes siniled evilly and stroked his luxuriant ‘* Burn- sides.” Joaquin gave him a glance which was far from loving. and then, turning, imprinted a hasty kiss upon the child's fcrehead. “ Good-by. my poor boy!” he gasped, in a choked voice; then he staggered toward the door, tears roll- ing down his brown cheeks. **Papa! papa!”’ Little Pet called, struggling to ge to the floor from Bess’s arms. At the door Joaquin paused, and gazed back. Ey- ery eye was upon him, Every man in the room was watching him, with a spice of pity at heart. The strong man gave a last, farewell glance at the child, his features working with emotion; then he turned his black, gleaming eyes upon the English- man. whose gaze wavered, and face grew a shade less florid, It was a terrible glance of undying hatred that glowed from the Spaniard’s eyes, and every man in the room felt ifs deadly magnetism. Then, after a moment, the man’s chin had drop- ped until it rested upon his breast. He turned me- chanically, opened the door, and was gone, out in the blackness of a moonless night. When he was out of sight, Baltimore Bess turned and faced the Englishman, who was regarding her a a eynical glance, which brought a flush to her cheeks. “Tell me your name!’ she said, in her decisive way. Oh, certainly!” was the reply, and the foreigner laid a card upon the table near 8 “My name is Cavendish—Lord Byron Cavendish. at your lady- ship’s service. In whet way can J serve you?” “Serve me?” cried Bess. scornfully. “*W’en et cums thet er Englisher hes ter serve me, I kick the bucket, you bet! Joaquin said you should have the boy, andso hereheis. But, mind you, in taking him, if ye ever so much as harm a hair of bis precious little head, I'll transform ye inter a monument fera hole in ther ground, quicker’n a bullwhacker evyer soaked p’izen!” A loud cheer from the crowd was sufficient guar- antee that the general spirit was in keeping with that of the dare-devil Kier,
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4 Idyl, the Girl Miner, Lord Cavendish smiled defiantly, as he seized Joa- quin’s terrified child, and raised him in his arms. ' “Don’t fear that the child will suffer harm by being in my possession!” he said, moving toward the door. “ Au revoir, all!” He turned to make bis exit, but in doing so, ran fairly against an individual who bad just entered. “ Aw! I say, it’s deuced unkind of you to mistake me for a battering-ram. Aw! Who is the awful swell, anyhow?” and an eye-glass was poised in front of the new-comer’s left optic, while he surveyed the Englishman critically. His lordship had also stepped back a pace in order to sean the dandified character, with whom he had collided. For the individual in question was made up on de- cidedly dandyish principles, to say the least. His immaculate white shirt and vest, and his fashionably cut clothing were allof the best mate- rial, while the polished silk hat, a flaming red neck- tie, a ponderous gold chain strung several times across his vest, a liberal display of flashing jewelry, and a gold-headed cane, to s1y nothing of the ex- emily fitting patent-leathers upon his feet, were the general items of his outfit Evidently the English lord was in a degree startled by the apparition, for he completed his survey with a contemptous humph. “Who in the name of the queen are you?” he de- manded, sharply. ‘Hallo! by all ther wildeats thet evyer chawed mother-in-laws, Ef I don’t know that gallus galoot, may_I never agin be called a man o’ ther peeple. Eb's Rosebud Rob, the Sport, an’ I'll bet my chips on it. you bet. Hyar, old pard, just led us yer paw wile | wring ther arip out o’ et!” “ Aw, is that you, Bessee?” the Sport said, shak- ing hands with the girl. ‘‘Glad tosee you! But, aw! I say, by Jove! who is the individual who bumped against me?” “Haw! haw! Don’t ye know, Rosey? That’s the gloot who sets himself up ter be a lord vv creation. Cavendish is his name. He do luk like a caven sort 0’ dish, don’t ha, now!’ " ‘Awl the Sport said, with a grand sniff. “A most deucedly insolent puppy—ah! ‘pon honor; a cross between the mongre! cur and the—the coyote sah! | Ha! ha! Good joke, eh? Deucedly pointed loke! ; “What do you mean by insulting me, you fool?” Lord Cavendish growled, advancing threateningly. “Do you know an Enzlishman of blood never re- ceives insult, without retaliation?” “Awl is thattrue? Really, you must excuse my ignorance pertaining to English blood. Aw! you are so deucedly clever, my lord, what do you say to tak- ing a scull—just for exercise, you see?” And in his hands the dandy sport held a glistening pair of revolvers, Cavendish saw them—saw that matters had an un- healthy outlook for him, 2nd with a curse, he seized Joaquin’s child in his arms again, and left the gam- ing house, CHAPTER II. THE HERMIT OF CASCADE CITY—IDYL. Many miles to the north and west of Hayward City, among the mountain wilds, was one of those hidden valleys, so many of which have puzzled the surveyors of Jenny’s expedition, as in many in- stances they elosely resemble each other. The mouth of the one in question, at its southern extremity, was narrow, and choked with dense growths of chaparral, and very few would have susvected the existence of the valley, or have at- tempted to penetrate into it. Beyond the chaparral it ran on northward, Loin i of timber and be- coming grassy and level at the bottom, from whence it gradually ‘sloped up into rugged foothills, and emerged into mountains of almost perpendicular rock, The valley was several miles long, and finally end. ed in the face of a large waterfall, or cascade, which leaped from crag to ledge, until it fell at last in a wide, glass-like sheet into the valley, and rushed away in foam-flecked rapids through a narrow channel. It was the picturesque beauty of Nature’s scenic hand, and one standing among the distant crags that sided the valley could but be impressed with the combined grandeur and beauty of the scene, The crystal waters tumbling down the rugged rocks from far above with musical din; the little valley, with its rushing waters. its flowered banks, and green and autumnal variegated colors—the single little log-cabin with its well-weeded garden patch which nestled down almost in under the shadow of the falls—all these items lent to the scene a peculiar charm, that was pleasant and lulling to the human sense. At least it was so toa single person who, posted up among the crags, was idly surveying the view through a powerful field-glass. He was a fair-skinned, fair-haired young fellow, stalwart and well-proportioned, with a face attrac- tive in its regularity of feature, the expressive brown eyes, and a firm mouth, slightly shaded by a mus- tache. <A guess at his age would have given him not more than three-and-twenty years. Neatly attired, and armed with Bs of a supe- rior make, he looked wholly unlike the sportsman occasionally met with in the Western mountains. There was that in his dress and bearing which spoke both of refinement and a genial nature. He evidently was much interested in the scene be- low him, for he gazed upon it long and admiringly. “Tt is beautiful!” he finally murmured, lowering his glass and recasing it. ‘“‘If I were an artist IT should never stop short of painting the views here- abouts. In my opinion, the spot below there dis- counts any views I have yetseenin America, And the cabin yonder, under the shadow of the waterfall, seems singularly out of place, for I see no signs of human presence. Just such aspot as that would I select for my future home, were I not—well, if I hadn’t a Sir prefixed to my name, and were not ex- pecting to step into an obliging uncle’s shoes, With a pretty wife, why couldn’t a fellow have a jolly life down in this secluded mountain nook? I’m going down into the valley,” he said at last, slinging his handsome rifle behind his back. ‘* Even if the cabin is untenanted, a fellow could spend an agreeable day on that green grass. Wonder if Cavendish will miss me? He’s able to take care of himself; so here goes.” And the young baronet began to clamber down from crag to crag, in order to get into the valley. It was no easy job, and several times he nearly lost his footing, and was on the eve of being precipitated to the rocks below. But he was quick, and possessed of considerable strength, and after a series of harmless tumbles and slips, he descended a grassy slope into the heart of the valley. Pausing a moment to rest, he made a discovery which he had not observed through his glass. In spots the bottom of the valley was sandy, and these spots were staked off by little flags upon sticks, There had been channels opened here and there, and rows of sluice-boxes constructed, witha head-gate to turn off or on water from the rushing stream. In fact, everything was handy for wash-mining, and miners’ implements lay scattered about upon the ground. “Well! well! So it chances that I have ‘ stumbled down and struck it rich.’ as these artistes-in-digging have it,” the young baronet said, with a puzzled ex- pression. ‘‘Some one has got a mine here, all b himself. Secluded, and most charmingly located, too. I wonder what lucky mortal may be chief here? Surely, there is but little chance for discovery rie a freak caused me to penetrate this solitude. Ah! the cabin, yonder; and, as I live, there's an old
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man sitting in under the willow, by the door. Hur- rah! V’ll strike for him, as sure as my name is Tom Spersel ae a Sir at the extreme fore-part of i And, true to his word, the young tourist started off on a swift stride toward the cabin, which was several hundred poe away. As he approached the cabin, he perceived that it had a home-like appearance. A door and a couple of windows fronted westward, and a portico shadow- ed the door, while over all towered a large willow. A little pebbled path ran down to the edge of the stream, and on either side was bordered by beds of cultivated flowers, which sent forth a delicious per- fume. Back of the cabin was a well-kept garden, boasting of potatoes, cabbage, corn, and many other products of eastern gardens, and everywhere were neatness and thrift. Under the willow-tree, in a great rustic arm-chair. sat an old man—a cripple, evidently, as a pair of crutches lay upon the ground by his side, watched over by an ugly-looking canine companion, of a de- cided bull-dog appearance. The man was thin and emaciated in form and face, with a hollow look about the eyes, and a sunk- enness of the cheeks, that bespoke the working of some disease. His hair was snowy-white, but of beard he had none. As for his garments they were of the commonest material, but, at the same time, clean and unpatched. As Tom Somerset approached in his free graceful stride, the old man attempted to rise, but sunk back with a gasp of exhaustion. “Pray do not be alarmed!” Sir Tom said, reas- suringly. “I have not come to do you harm, but, rather, to beg your hospitalitv, fora few days, for whieh I will pay you liberally.” “Who are you?” the old man demanded, suspi- ciously, eying the baronet with a keen gaze, “‘ Why have you come here?” “Por no bad purposes, let me assure you,’’ Somer- set, said, taking a seat upon the rocky doorstep. “Tam an English tourist, who, in company with an- other companion, has been doing the American con- tinent, and seeing the sights. Yesterday, I started off in this direction, in search of gold, game or any thing that might tend to interest me. And it turns out that 1 dropped right down into this lovely re- treat,” “Then you like the picture?” the cripple demand- ed, waving his hand about. him, with an expression of pride upon his grizzled features—'‘ vou like it?” “Most certainly. Any one with half an eye for beauty could do no less than pay Nature an ad- miring tribute, in recognition of the loveliness of this spot.’’ The enthusiastic speech of the young stranger seemed to banish any prejudices the old man may have had. “What is your name, young man?’ he demanded. “Sir Thomas Somerset, at your service—usually abbreviated to plain Tom Somerset, as I am, in no particular, proud of my title.” “That at least shows good sense on your part,” the other replied. ‘‘My name is Abbey—Jason Ab- bey, though by the few who have ever visited me here. Iam known as Old Elk, the Hermit.” “Then you have lived here long, sir?” ““Ay!—long as ten years; before the gold fever broke out into a blast in the Black Hills, I worked my way here, and built my home, with the inten- tion of becoming a recluse from the wiles and vil- lainy of a wicked world. Since the day I first en- tered it, I have never left this valley, but twice. So you see, I have been a hermit, in the true sense of the word, young man,”’ “Tndeed, yes. You must have had strong cause for isolating yourself so long from your fellow-men.” “Yes, there were deep and strong causes—and many of them. One, I was tired of sin and the sin- ning; an unseen hand pointed out to me the quiet peace of this life, and with my child, then but little ! Idyl, the Girl Miner. ‘65 better than a babe, IT came. Withmy child and with my Ged, Ihave led a blessed life, and have been far bie eo than I should have been, had I not come!” “But, how have you been able to maintain your- self, all these years in what is yet literally a howling wilderness?” “Until within a year past, I have been in good health. and gained a living with my rifle, and such vegetables as I could raise with my little spot of garden. Since I have become afflicted with consump- ol and the rheumatism, my child has taken my ace.” “How old is your son?” “My son? ha! ha! Inever was blessed witha scn, Idyl is a girl.” Me Tayi?” 4 hee Does the name strike you as being pecu- iar “T must admit that it does,” Sir Tom replied. ‘TI ean't say that I ever heard a name applied to wo- man so odd and yet so pretty.” “And Idylis as odd and eccentric as her name—as fearless as a lion—as brave as they make ’em. She will be in from a hunt, scon.”’ “But you have not yet told me if you would give me the hospitality of your board!” Sir Tom reminded. “ Ah! Lhad forgotten it. Y-yes, you are welcome to stay, as long as you behave yourself, and don’tgo to getting spoony over my child. Remember, the first word of compliment or love yan speak to her, i will cause you to repent, even though you know vot how. I welcome you as my guest—no more.” “Vou reed not fear that I shall entangle myself in Cupid’s net!” Sir Tom replied, with a laugh.” “By the way, who is the other companion, of whom you spore?” the Hermit asked. “Oh! Lord Cavendish, I left him in Hayward, to his cards, wins and cigars, while I explored the mountains and enjoyed their wondrously fine scenery |” Old Elk bowed his head forward upon his hands, and was silent for several moments. He seemed to be trying to recall something which had been fami- liar to him in the past, but had grown dim and indis- tinct. “You say your name is Somerset?” he at last in- terrogated, looking up. ‘‘I once knew of the Somer- sets of Derbyshire—” “You then knew my father, no doubt,” Sir Tom repiled, “for he lived when you must haye been born, His name was Sir Gerald.” The old man shook his head with a smile. “Tt might have been, but my memory has so ce- serted me in my latter years, that I can rarely re- member any of the scenes or associations of my early life.” “You must be pretty well advanced in years, then?” “Nay; there is many an older man than I, whose head is brown instead of white. Iam but forty-five, sir, though you would judge me past seventy.” “Indeed Tshould! What, may I ask, has been the eanse of your premature age?” “Ah! it was that which brings many a man to his grave. The double scavengers—trouble and con- sumption—the latter perhaps caused by incessant worry superinduced by the former, But, think not that Iam even unhappy, wreck aslam. Tam hap- pier now than many a man with erect frame and fine appearance. There is One above whom I am proud to call my Father; besides. I have carefully reared one of the flowers of all women, in my Idy), ‘You shall see her presently.” : “Tam already eager to see her—am anxious to meet this paragon of the wilderness,” Sir Tom mut- tered under his breath, while aloud he said: “T shall be much pleased to meet your daughter, sir; and I trust while I stop, I may be regarded, not as astranger, but as a son to you. “Tf you need my assistance or money—” “Wal ha! you would offer me money, eh?” the old man chuckled, as if there was something amusing
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6 Idyl, the Girl Miner. to him in the simple idea, “Why, young man, 1 dare say Iam worth more to-day than you, with all your titles and lordly estates! Yousee those claims down the valley yonder, which appear osif they had never been more than staked off. Well, sir, 1 have worked them patches of sand for eight Jong years— washed out the gold grains, and hoarded them away in amounts which would make your eyes sparkle. My riches are buried where no one but myself can ever find them, without directions from me.” “ But how, pray, could you have worked so long in one or more beds of sand? There must be a bottom where there is no gold.” ‘“‘T’ll tell you the secret,” the old man said, in a whisper. ‘Every new moon the water of the cas- eade increases in volume and washes through the valley, in some places overflowing the banks by two feet. When the flood has subsided, those spots where the water overflowed are covered with golden sands.” “Ah, yes! Isee. So, when you wash out one for- tune, the tide brings you another.” “Exactly.” “Well, you have indeed a bonanza. Is there no uartz ore in the immediate vicinity of this valley that would pay better than this surface dirt?’’ Sir Tom asked. “None atall. The quartz formation abruptly ends many miles from here, and. also, there is no fairly- paying surface dirt until you strike this valley. Con- sequently, few but hunters enter here.” *T suppose you have to bribe them to keep the se- eret of your fortune, eh?’ “Not at all. Those who have come have been so well received, that they would be more than ingrates to betray me in my solitude,” “Besides, what could they do to remain? You have all the best portions of the valley staked off, eh? You were first, end, consequently, are last pos- sessor.”’ “Of course. They could ill afford to try and rout me out of my snug little hermitage. Besides, the mines yonder, and all the tools, belong to Idyl, to whom I sold out my interest.” * And she now does the running in place of your- self, sir?’’ “Txactly. And fully as well, too, But, come in- to the cabin, young man, and I'll see if we cannot hunt you up something fit toeat. As the day has several hours of light yet, it is not likely my child will return immediately.” “Pray do not put yourself to the least trouble,” Sir Tom replied. ‘ Before I eat, I must beg to leave you, until I can fetch a noble horse, whom I left in the mountains. By that time, perhaps, Miss Abbey will bave returned. I shall not be long, I trust!’ And then the young baronet strode away down the valley, whistliny merrily. It was evident that his spirit was free and unfettered, and the same might have been safely added concerning his heart. The old Hermit of Cascade Ranch, as he had named his possessions, gazed after Sir Tom with a keen, scrutinizing glance—a look full of questioning anxiety, and maybe a tittle of suspicion. “A fine-feathered bird!” was his muttered obser- vation; ‘‘as a rule, they are of little value. <A bar- onet, and undoub'edly well-heeled, or else he would not be traveling in this country. He is well-edu- cated, refined, and liberal. Ah! young man, I shall study you deeply, and solve your worth. If you prove to be your father’s own son, I have such a Erte for you, ai no true man could fail to worship. erald Somerset, of the bygone days, is dead. Poor fellow, He was a noble and generous soul. and if his boy is the same, it shall not be ill for him. He shall. if he so desires, woo and wed my child—my prerens Idyl, whom I regard as the fairest and oveliest creature of her sex. Then. when I have seen her married to a loving husband, I shall give her my treasured wealth, and be content to pass out of this solitary existence, into a sphere of life which is of the Godly,” As he ceased his mutterings, the old recluse bowed his head forward, and seemed wrapped in thought of a deep, ay, sacred nature, “Papa!” exclaimed a cheery voice, ‘‘ papa, what is the matter?” CHAPTER II, JOAQUIN’S COTTAGE—BERENICE’S RESOLVE. A new road had been cut through the mountain wilderness. Men were at work upon it—men in masks, too, who seemingly were chary toshow their faces to the light of day. The road wound from one side of a giant moun- tain, in a semicircle, around to the opposite side, where it ended, uncompleted, on the jagged rocky bluffs which arose to the east of Cascade Valley. At the eastern commencement of the road the stage teed ran through Blind Canyon and connected with it. The length of the new road, so far as constructed, must have been eleven or twelve miles; while it yet lacked a couple of miles of debouching into the little eanyon where Jason Abbey held bis own. The ghiect in the construction of the highway was evident, for nearly midway between its two termi- nations stood a little shanty, in front of which a gate was stationed. Back of the shanty was a larger ex- tension, which was built against a face of rock. A neatly painted sign hung over the dvor of the shanty, bearing the inscription: * Joaquin’s Tott-GatTE.”” A woman sat upon the ee of the shanty. glanc- ing ever and anon up and down the newly-finished dugway, while her deft fingers plied the needles that were working into shape a beautiful zephyr shaw]. A plainly-attired, unpretentious little body this woman—young, even below the age of nineteen, if one could juige by appearances. Just of the medium hight and development was she, with a clear-cut brunette face; eyes and hair as black as jet, and teeth pearly white. There was an expression of quiet content, mixed with matronly anxiety about her face, which was peculiarly attract- ive, Then, occasionally, she would allow a pensive smile to steal about her lips, and her eyes would brighten up wonderfully. ‘Dear Joaquin, and Pet!’ she murmured softly, as the needles clicked merrily together. *' How [have missed them both. Joaquin promised me his stay should be short—yet, he has already been gore over a week, Can it be that he has gone hack to the gaming-table again? No, God forbid! He promised me with the last kiss that he would not play agame, and I cannot believe he would break his word. “And, yet, I cannot account for his tardiness. He was to take the last money, which my father left me, and purchase powder with which to complete the blasting of our road, Then. we shall begin to realize the returns for our investment. The labor- ers can be discharged, and with the income brought in by the toll-travel, oh! how nicely we could live! Poor Joaquin! where would be have been now had not a woman’s guiding hand lured him away from the gaming-table? He was going down-hill to de- struction at a rapid pace, when I first met him. Now—” An anxious cloud mantled the young wife’s brow. The ‘‘ Now” was suggestive of manv a change. As the wife sat pondering over these questions her gaze fell upon a horseman coming up the road and she arose to her feet with a little ery of delight and waved her zephyr-work in the air, for she recog nized in the new-comer her husband, as well as his snow-white steed. But the enthusiastic glow suddenly died out of herface and eyes, and she reeled back, a sudden compression of her lips making her appear grim and stern. She leaned agaiast the door-post for support, and glared toward the approaching horseman, as if she | were uncertain whether to stay or flee,
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Idyl, the Girl Miner. v4 = she dreaming—or had she suddenly gone mad Little Pet was not with Joaquin! No! not with him; and the sharp eyes of the wife detected the hesitation of the husband in approach- ing—saw a guilty flush upon his face, asullen gleam in his dark eye. She set her teeth hard together, and nerved her- ete bitterness of death was gnawing at her heart- strings. Nearer and nearer the horse of the husband ap- proached, until it stopped in front of the gate, and — Muriete sat with folded arms, and bowed He knew that the, to him terrible, accusing eyes of his wife were npon him; he could literally feel them penetrating into his heart and mind. And, he sat, silently guilty; bitterly repentant, fiercely re- vengeful—upon his foes. * Joaquin!’ Berenice spoke the name with its full Spanish ac- cent—spoke it ina tone of immeasurable contempt, mingled equally with sternness and pity—in a tone that caused Muriete to tremble visibly. But he com- manded himself by a master effort, and raised his eyes to meet her burning gaze. “Berenice, I return alone!’’ he said, hoarsely. “Do not me what has become of the child, for—for—” “You would not tell me, eh?” she finished, with a frightened gasp; ‘‘ but you shall tell me, Joaquin -- ou shall tell me where is our child—our little dar- ing Pet, or T’'ll—” e hesitated to complete the sentence, and thrust 7 revolver she had drawn back into the folds of her ress. “Go on! do what was then pppeeeivee in your mind,” Joaquin said, with a bitter laugh. “‘ Take my miserable life, and you will save me the trouble of commititing suicide.’ A horrified, frightened expression came into her eyes as she listened to him. He spoke in that same reckless way—with the same biting bitterness which had been characteristic of him in the past, when the devil had levied a mortgage upon his soul and body —and she had bought him over. “Tell me where is our child?’ she gasped, when she could find power to speak again. “ Dead |” he replied, with another bitter chuckle, “dead, forever. to you and me! Do not chide me, Berenice, but hear me out. I have been lying in the mountains three days and nigh's trying to summon courage to appear before you, and, at last, 1 am here. That terrible gaze take away—I cannot bear it. It will drive me furious in five minutes. The words yon would say repress, lest I refuse to tell you of your child!” : Berenice bowed her head with a groan of anguish. She yearned, yet feared, to hear the worst. ‘*As I said, the child is, forever dead to you and me,” Joaquin went on, “I gambled him away, as well as the money which you gave me to purchase powder with. I shall not attempt to apologize for myself. I broke my promise to you in a weak mo- ment, and gambled away your child. Iask you not to forgive me—I crave but one boon from you!” “What?” Berenice asked. calmly. She had just found a new-born power of control over her heart—over her emotions. “You shall know!" Joaquin said. leaping from his saddle to the ground, and drawing a revolver. “Here, take this weapon, and put a bullet through my heart!”’ His bitterness of tone was proof enough, that he was in earnest. He was not the man to joke, insuch a moment as this. s Berenice shrunk back with a little ery of horror. “No! no!” she said. with a quiver. ‘Joaquin Muriete. I will not take your life, nor that of any man. Though as fierce blood runs in my veins as in yours, I will not do murder by way of satisfying @ revengeful craving. God joined our hands to- | had come. gether as man and wife. The bond is henceforth broken. Our paths diverge, here; you go your way, I go mine!” *“Berenice!’’ “Nay! do not speak to me, in that way, I no longer can be moved to even respect the man who would gamble away his child!” she cried, passion- ately. * All the love for you will I crush out of my heart—all wifely affections will I smother, until you bring me back my child! Don’t think to beg—’tis useless. I go, now, never to return, until you bring me back that of which you have robbed me!” She turned back into the shanty, with a cold bow, and after she was gone. Joaquin, Jr., sat down up- on a little bench, which stood near at hand, and Dene his head, while tears coursed down his brown cheeks, He spoke not—only a shudder, now and then, be- spoke the agony he was undergoing. Berenice came out, presently, with a firm, decided step, in which there was no faltering. A hooded cloak was fastened about her shoulders, and she carried a little paper-enveloped bundle. “T have taken what few clothes I may need to wear,” she said, pausing a moment, and gazing keenly up and down the road. “ You are welcome to the rest—can even gamble them away, if you choose. Good-by, forever perhaps.” “ Berenice!” She did not reply, but walked away down the eastward road, ieaving Joaquin gazing after her like aman bereft of bis scnses. At last she came to a bend, around which she would pass from view of the shanty. Would she look back? Would she care to gaze back toward the man who had caused her so much needless pain? Joaquin leaned forward, his gaze fastened eagerly upon her, his heart beating wildly, his breast coming in guick gasps of hope. earer—nearer she approaches to the bend. Ha! she--goes on and passes out of sight, without turn- ing her head in the least. Then, there rises an awful cry upon the clear mountain air—a weird, anguished shriek, which the canyon currents catch up and propel along in mourn- za detonating echoes, like the wail of a broken eart. Joaquin Muriete lies flat upon the ground, as bereft of consciousness as the gray mountain crags that loomed around him. His horse gives a whinny, and like a faithful dog, approaches his master. He smells the body over— even seizes the leathern waist-belt by his teeth, and raises Joaquin parily from the ground. But as the limp body sags back a wonderful un- derstanding seems to possess the noble animal, for with a louder whinny he leaps the gate and dashes up the more-newly finished part of the road, until, at last, he brings up at a point where scores of mask- ed men are digging on the mountain-side, “Hello! Joaguin’s horse by all the miracles!” exclaimed one stalwart, smooth-faced fellow, paus- ingin his work, asthe animal approached with whinny and rubbed his nose upon his shoulder, afte: which he trotted beck in the direction whence he “ What ails the beast?” *Somethin’s up—gone wrong!’ spoke another, “Tfl's you, Lieutenant Phil, ’'d go see what it's about. ‘That beast o’ Joaquin’s ar’ a l’arned animal, an’ yeken bet he wouldn't play sech a part ef some- thin’ warn’t out o’ kilter, you hear me! “True encugh, Aber,” was the reply. “T think I'll run down to the gate, and see if everything's right there. It’s getting on toward night; half a dozen of you may follow me on foot.” And. calling the white, the lieutenant vaulted in‘o the saddle, and dashed down the road. In the meantime another horseman from the op- posite direction came up the new Tieew ay. and leap- ing from his saddle on arriving in front of seequt 8 cottage approached the body of the fallen chief,
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8 Idyl, the Girl Miner, mn He was none other than the young baronet, Sir Tom Somerset! After leaving the cabin of the Hermit of the Cas- cade Guich he had re-entered the mountains, and, though he had found the horse, he became puzzled, and finally quite lost. Chancing into Blind Canyon he had stumbled into the newly-made toll-road curv- ing around the mountain, “This takes me in a westward direction, and may eventually fetch me nearer to the valley of the Her- mit,” he had said, after which he proceeded to fol- low the road, which resulted in his pausing before Joaquin’s cottage, and finding the young chief lyiag senseless before his own door. _ “Hello! I wonder what ails this poor fellow?” the baronet muttered. ‘‘I see no signs of his having been foully dealt with. Here is water handy; [ll see if I cannot resurrect him from this stupor. Ha! ms the woman I met with down the road anything im?’ Raising the body in his arms, the baronet dragged it within the shanty, the first room of which was neatly but rudely furnished. Here he laid him upon acouch of skins, and seizing a basin, proceeded to catch some water that trickled down across the road. Returning to the shanty, he then bathed the chief’s forehead, and poured a few drops of Nature’s sparkling liquor between his lips. ‘ Joaquin gave a shiver, and opened his eyes direct- ly with a start. **Ha!l who are you?” he gasped, as his sharp, wild gaze fell upon the stranger. * Tell me—who are you, and what do you want?’ “My name is Somerset, at your service!” Sir Tom replied. **Chancing to become lost in the moun- tains, I followed the new road, and eame to where you were lying in front of thisshanty. I dragged you in here, and set to work to restore you to con- sciousness.” ““Y-es!”” Joaquin mused, passing his hand over his forehead. ‘I remember now—I fainted. I thank yee Mr. Somerset, for manifesting so much interest in my behalf. But stop! Before you go, let me ask you a question. Which direction did you come from?” : “From the east, sir.’’ “Ha! I thought so. Did you—did you see any- thing of a woman going eastward along this trail?” ““T did, sir. She was alone, and carried a bundle of clothing. I made an attempt to ask her concern- ing my shortest route to Cascade Valley, when she uttered a wild laugh, and sped on as if all the evil spirits were after her!” ‘“*You speak of the Cascade Valley,” Joaquin, Jr., said, as he paced moodily up and down the floor. “What would you have there?” “Nothing more than a few days of rest, I assure you,” Sir Tom replied, feeling a trifle nervous in spite of himself, for there was that in the demeanor and flashing eye of the chief that would impress one not too favorably of the calmness of his heart. “I chanced down there earlier to-day, and engaged ac- pea et ad ‘ short Sn I am now endeav- oring to find how I can easiest get my horse and myself ae ge ea . 4 ‘or some time Muriete not speak. but paced to and fro with a keen glance anon at Sir Tom, who was awaiting the issue. At last, however, he walked to a desk in one corner of the room, soon to return with a small golden stiletto lying in the palm of his hand. It was & mere toy, such as might be attached as the “ charm ” to a watch-chain, but Joaquin gazed at it sternly. “Take this,” he said, handing it to Sir Tom. “Take it, and never be without it. Night and day have it fastened in plain sight. Now go! No, stop! I will first tell you my name. It is Joaquin Muriete. Jr. Perhaps you may hear the name again. And mind you, offer no harm to that little fairy of Cas- cade Gulch, if you would live. Go now! Mount your horse and pass on up the road. If you are stopped, show the stiletto, and demand to be shown the easiest way into the Cascade Gulch!” Sir Tom bowed respectfully, and ee from the shanty left the gate behind him, on the back of his trained horse. : From the doorway Joaquin watched him until he was out of sight; then stood gazing off among the ragged mountains, where the night was gathering ckly, “Oh! thou God!” he murmured, ‘I am all alone —deserted by my wife—separated from my child!’ CHAPTER IV. CASCADE CITY LOOKING PROMISING. Str Tom Somerser galloped away up the new mountain road, his mind busied with the mystery concerning matters at the cottage. ‘Joaquin!’ be muttered. “I have heard that name mentioned in connection with the gold-fever in California. This Joaquin and that cannot be the same—probably are father and son, as the present one is a young man of nearly my own age. Ha! here comes a horseman, and he is masked, at that!”’ It was the man whom we have previously men- tioned as Lieutenant Phil. He was mounted upon Joaquin’s white horse, and bound toward the toll- ate. But he drew rein in the middle of the road as Sir Tom came up, and in one hand he held a pistol ready for use. “Halt!” he commanded. ‘ You can go no further without paying toll. As Iam acting agent for Muri- oer toll-road, I'll be Jenient, and charge you only a QP Sir Tom laughed. i “T guess you are playing with the wrong trigger,” he said, drawing the golden stiletto. ‘‘ Joaquin him- bose assured me that this would pass me over the road. “Ha! the signal-sign, Very well, sir: since you possess that, you are at liberty to pass on. But tell me first, what has happened at the gate?” “You, fee ean best learn that,’ Sir Tom re- plied. “I found your chief lying in front of the shanty, but succeeded in fetching him back to con- sciousness, I left him at the shanty.” With a bow the lieutenant put spurs to his horse, and dashed on toward the toll-gate, while Sir Tom continued upon his journey. He had no difficulty in passing the men who were working upon the road, after he exhibited the sti- letto; and one of them pointed out the easiest way of descending into the valley beyond. x So by the time it was fully dark he rode up in front ee Hermit’s cabin, and dismounted with a sigh of relief. The evening was warm, and the old man sat in his arm-chair under the weeping-willow, smoking away at his pipe. ete “So you have arrived, eh?” he said, raising him- self upon his crutches and hobbling forward. ‘‘ Take the bridle from your horse, and turn him out to graze. There’s bag eae for him in the valley, and supper for you in the cabin.” Tom made haste to obey—and then followed the Hermit into the main apartment of the cabin, which answered equally the purpose of kitchen and parlor: he was, however, disappointed at beholding nothing bearing the least resemblance to a woman. Upon the table was a common tea-set, and a meal, consisting of bread, milk, butter and cold meat with wild pear-sauce. It was common, but looked mighty tempting to Sir Tom. who had not tasted food since early morning, and very sparingly, then. “Be seated, and help yourself,’’ the Hermit said, pointing to the table. “It isn’t a repast fit for the Queen, but we manage to subsist upon it. We ate before you came.” It was upon Sir Tom’s tongue to ask where the other one of the “we” was, but he restrained his ay es and finished his meul. . fterward they adjourned to the open air to
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2 Idyl, the Girl Miner. 9 —— smoke, for Sir Tom carried a stock of choice cigars. The old man occupied bis chair, while Sir Tom seat- ed himself upon the doorstep. “T see you are to have a highway a through the valley,” he observed, carelessly. ‘I presume you are already cognizant of the fact?” “Yes,” the Hermit replied, with a nod. ‘I am powerless to help it. My hermitage will soon bea matter of the past.” “The road will naturally bring in prospectors and adventurers, and will you not be in danger of being robbed?” “Robbed!” the old man echoed, with a start— “robbed! Of what?” “Of everything—of your hidden wealth—of your claims, yonder—ay! of that you prize most, your daughter, Miss Idyl.” ** But who would rob me, young man? Who would molest a man who has no enemies?” “‘Oh! there are hundreds—thousands who would do it, forthe sake of gold, or to satisfy evil desires. You have been so long shut out from the world, that I fear you would harbor evil, unsuspectingly!” “Ha! then you mean that your coming bodes me evil, sir?” “No; on the contrary, my coming insures you a true and lasting friendship. butI was referring to the class of adventurers who must soon come into this gulch, You will awake some morning to find a miniature city surrounding you, peopled by a heterogeneous swarm of humanity. You will be astonished Men, seemingly friends, will plot against you. This one will scheme for the mine—that one will cast an envious ng fe upon your child—another, still, will plot for the buried treasure for which Pg care most, perhaps, next to your daughter. And some time one of the enemies will strike your death- blow, and your child will be left alone in the world in the midst of evil men, defen-eless!” “No, no!—not quite that!” Old Elk replied, with achuckle. ‘‘She is not defenseless who has a strong arm, a dauntless courage, and a will to fight for her hts, And that same bas my Idyl.”” ‘Which, if true, causes me to admire her already,” Li ipa muttered, under his breath. Aloud, he said: “‘Perhaps you are right, sir, but a single woman against a trio or more of evil men has no advan- tages, certainly.” ““Why do you say all these things to me?” the old man demanded, petulantly. ‘‘ They do not serve to increase my peace of mind.” * A fact which I well understand, sir. But I wish to arouse you to a true sense of danger. for I feel it in my bones that danger will come. You must be on your guard if you intend to remain here,” And you tell me this without a selfish object be- hind it all” coe “TI tell you it with no object in view, except to keep danger away from a helpless man and a weak woman!” Sir Tom replied. “Then, you are as noble as you seem to be!” the other replied, ‘and I thank God that he has sent you asa friend and counselor.” At this juncture a peal of merry, girlish laughter rung out just behind Sir Tom, causing him to invol- untarily leap to his feet with a start. “Ha!ha!ha! A weak woman! Ha! ha! ha! Did you hear him, papa?” And the next moment a trim, girlish bs oe step- d out of the cabin, half-convulsed with laugh- r, which, evidently, was not affected; but which pivaeue unconscious blushes to Sir Tom Somerset's cheeks, “Did you hear him, poppy?’ cried the sprite, . “He called me a weak woman! Ha! ha! And a fair, roguish face, and a pair of sparkling brown eyes were turned full upon the baronet, who was gazing at her in surprised admiration, _The Hermit had not underestimated the attrac- tions of his child, She was seventeen years of age, or thereabouts, with a well-rounded, willowy form. pos in each graceful contour, as was revealed a neat-fitting, semi-feminine hunting costume of pliable deerskin; a bust, and a pair of shoulders and arms that would have been a sculptor’s pride to model after; a pure white neck and bosom just a trifle revealed by an open collar, which was spotless and pretty. A proud little head, with a profusion of wavy hair flowing back upon the shoulders, and a face that was pretty and fascinating inevery lineament. The eyes, too, were such as could express in one moment the roguish merriment of a happy nature—in the next could flash with scorn and contempt, or fire with anger and resolute will. In addition to the deerskin costume, there were dainty boots upon the shapely feet, and a slouch hat set _jauntily back from the fair, open forehead. No weapons wore this gazelle of the wilderness, to outward view—unless, as Sir Tom inwardly conclud- ed, they were her mischievous eyes. After the last words uttered by the Hermit’s daugh- ter, there was an awkward pause of a moment; but the old man at last came to the rescue, “Sir Tom,” he said, “this is my child—my aa dy], Sir Thomas Somerset, of Derbyshire, England.” if Sir Tom, with all his grand mdon life and social training, made a graceful acknowledgment, it was not more gracefully done by him than by the Hermit’s daughter. In an instant she had thrown off her girlish mask, and no society belle ever made a finer bow. “Tam happy to welcome you to our wilderness home, sir,” she said, frankly extending her hand. “7am sure papa and I ought to be proud of bein honored by your coming—we have visitors so sel- dom, you know.” “Tt would need scarcely human presence to make me enjoy the wild spot you have chosen for a home, Miss Abbey; yet the wild, romantic beauty, together with the Poe of your father and your charmin, self, combine to offer for my visit all the pleasure could desire. And now, let me apologize for my un- complimentary reference to you as @ weak woman. Is it not enough for me to say that I have changed my wind entirely?” * Quite enough, sir, Ithank you for the unneeded compliment. Now, you will excuse me, I hope, for the duties of a housekeeper demand my attention.” Sir Tom bowed respectfully, and his eyes followed her until she was inside the cabin, flitting busily about her duties. Then he turned to the Hermit. ““Well?” the old man eee interrogatively, as he took an extra long puff at the cigar Sir Tom had previously given him. “She is a beauty, indeed,’’ was all the baronet said on that subject, for he seemed desirous of changing tbe channel of their conversation. They sat under the willow, and talked on various topics until the moon showed her face over the ot range with a brilliant flood of yellow ight. Then the Hermit directed Sir Tom which room to oceupy and hobbled away into the cabin, with the announcement that it was his bedtime. Sir Tom, however, did not creep between the sheets until just before day-dawn, when the moon- light had gone. He sat in the Hermit’s arm-chair and gazed off down the valley, while he smoked and cogitated over the events which had occurred since his dis- cov of the valley. ‘i He held three faces before his mind’s eye, and with a singular sensation which he could not account for, studied them. They were the faces of Joaquin Muriete, the old Hermit, and Idyl—the Hermit’s daughter. We pass over a month before we look down again upon Cascade City, as the Hermit had, from the first, named the spot he had selected for his home,
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10 We remember Sir Tom Somerset’s prediction; we look with the expectation of seeing changes, and we are not disappointed. The old Hermit’s cabin stands in under the shadow of the great cascade the same as before, surrounded by its garden and. beds of flowers; and, on warm days, the old man still sits in his arm-chair beneath the giant willow, as of yore. > The rushing stream darts through its channel with aroar only second to that of a cascade, and there are no changes—no inventions yet to turn it from its course. On the shores, however, there are changes, within a month. A quarter of a mile from the hermitage there are shanties and cabins scattered on the shore of the stream, and here and there the gulch valley, to the number of a couple of score. Men are seen, too, digging about, here and there; horses are grazing further on down the valley; a general appearance of new settlement is seen about. To the east, a stage-road winds down into the val- ley from far up among the rocky crags. A month has passed with these changes. Sir Tom Somerset still lingers at the Hermitage, which, we may add, has been enlarged to the dimen- sions of a frontier hotel, with a bar, and boarding and sleeping accommodations attached. A. queer, Frecmsongled, little old lady had come over from Deadwood, and induced the Hermit into the venture; had enlarged the place at her own ex- penne, and in consequence, was doing a thriving usiness. But, the old Hermit shook his head, as, with Sir Tom, he sat in under the willow one evening. “*T don’t like the change a bit!’ he said. ‘*The old quiet of the place is gone, and disorder reigns. Why, would you believe it, Sir Tom? Icould not sleep last night, for the carousal in the bar-room, which lasted till near daydawn.” “The same with me!” the young baronet replied. ““You made a wrong move, when you let that wo- man build on against you.” “Yes! yes! I see it, now. Experience is a good ps a ore Sir Tom. I thought to relieve Idyl, my child, of the indoor work, so that she could be as free as the eagle. Well! well! I suppose we shall have to put up with it. The thing won’t last long, if they do not get gold, which they are not likely to. Do they show any disposition to crowd over onto Tdyl’s claims?” “So far, no. One can’t tell what they may do, though they appzar like peaceable fellows. I guess they are a little more encouraged, so far, to-day. Several of them have struck a sand streak, with gol jen grain to it.” “Humph! It’s about time for another moon-tide. Has Idyl washed out all the paying, in her claim?” “Thardly know, Mr. Abbey. You have probably noticed that your daughter has given me the cold shoulder of late, and therefore, | am in the dark concerning her.” ‘*®h?” the old man grunted, leaning forward, and peering into the baronet’s face— given ye the cold shoulder, hasshe? Well! well! What have you been doing, Sir Tom?” ‘Alas! you’ve propounded a poser, now! I’m in total ignorance as to the origin or cause of Miss Ab- bey’s coolness toward me!” ‘Where is the child now?” “That Iam unable to tell you, unless she is in the bar-room. Of late she goes there at the close of sack day's labor, and has her gold weighed, I be- eve.’ The old man arose and hobbled into his portion of the cabin. A door had been cut through the wall, and communicated with the bar-room of Mrs Matze- vis’s establishment. Into the bar-room the Hermit made his way upon his crutches. There were several of the miners clustered at the Idyl, the Girl Miner. bar, who had come to the valley, and they regarded him with curious glances. Paying little attention to those at the bar, the old man approached where Idyl was standing at the weighing counter, watching the clerk, a Mr. Sam’l ea as he weighed out the dust and grains of gold. Idyl looked up with a start, to behold her father, and he noticed then what bad escaped his notice heretofore. _ The roses had gone out of her cheeks wonderfully, in the last few days, when before she had been so bright and blooming. There wasa restless, wearied light in her eyes, too, which had not been there be- ore. “Tdyl!” the old man said, touching her on the shoulder, ‘when you have done here, come into our parc of the cabin. I want to speak with you.” She nodded, without speaking, and the old man hobbled back into the old cabin, which was reserved as hisown. After Sam Skinner had finished weigh- ing her gold, Idyl] rejoined her parent, who was sit- ting. out under the willow tree,in his great arm- chair, “ Well, poppy, what is it?’ she asked, evidently trying to restore a lost girlish enthusiasm to her speech. “What do you want of me?” “Sit down and I willtell you. Now, why is it that you are so cold in your demeanor toward our guest, Sir Somerset? Tom is a good boy, and I supposed you_were getting along finely together, until—” “He told you to the contrary!’ Idyl finished scornfully. ‘I am sure Mr. Somerset is very kin to enlist your sympathy in his case, Tell him I ad- mire his pluck!” She would have turned away, but at this moment the Hermit called her back. “ Idyl! Idyi! child, stop! You must tell me what has caused your coldness toward Sir Tom. Heis a noble fellow—is rich and inherits proud blood. I had hopes for you in that direction, eg eee “Then I must banish them for you, father. Be- tween me and Sir Tom Somerset, there is nothing— never will be. If I were inclined to marry any one, there are scores I would choos» from before him |” She turned and went around the cabin toward the saloon. The stage was just coming in, laden inside and out with passengers, both male and female. Bo it said, to her credit, the green-goggled pert etress of the only ‘‘ranch” in Cascade Gulch was a shrewd woman: and when a few of her dollars caused a glowing report of the ‘ red-hot times” at Cascade City to be published in a Deadwood paper, naturally there was a stampede at once for the new strike, and the population was largely increased at every in-coming stage, and Mrs. Matrevis reaped a rich harvest from her bar, and her lunch-counter. CHAPTER V. THE SPORT'S DEBUT—A STRANGE DUEL. Tue stage drew up before the portals of Mrs. Ma- trevis’s establishment and began to discharge its freight of humanity, which consisted of all classes and iypes, such as yet is found in any mining s'rike. Idyl stood at one corner of the cabin, watching the busy throng which unloaded. with a curious gaze. It all seemed very strange to her, after having been reared in the solitudes as a hermit’s daughter. She could not remember of having ever seen so many men atone time in herlife as were disembark- ing from the four-team stage, driven by sturdy Jake Johnson, whom the Abbeys knew, as he had often heen in the valleys hunting ere he had taken to the stage, ‘A big heap on ’em. Miss Idyl”’ the brawny son of Wisconsin said, touching his hat respectfully, as he approached where Idyl was standing. ‘‘ Nevyer heerd thet ar’ stage grunt so as she did under thet eargo. Whoop’em up, Eliza! but thar ar’a heap o’ eccentric cusses among ’em, miss, an’ ef ye don’tsee
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Iéyl, the Girl Miner. 11 high times heer at ther Cascade my name ain’t Jake Johnson—you bet on that!” a a o you mean, Jake, by high times?” Idyl asked. “How do I mean, leetle gal? Waal, now, I don’t mind tellin’ you thet an artist in prave-digging, wouldn’t do so bad ter set up a coffin an’ toomb- stun factory eround hayr, bein’s my stage ter-night hes fetched in about as tough a crew as evyer sot fut in thur diggin’s. Thar’s Cross-eyed Mike, frum Deadwood, ter start wi’, After him thar’s ther gallus coon they call Rosebud Rob, ther dare-devil gal Baltimore Bess, an’ a couple as calls ’emselves Professor Bomberscoot, an’ Mrs, General George Washington Bounce, Durn my buttons ef thet lat- ter critter hesn’t made luv ter every consarned pil- grim aboard ther stage, durin’ ther trip, A reg’lar old husband hunter ar’ thet woman, you bet!” And happy Jake went whistling away, while Idyl, out of curiosity, stepped into the bar-room, to see what was going on. She often dtppped in, since the coming of stran- gers to the gulch; and on several occasions, her quick hand had dashed away a pistol! or knife. that had been poised by some angry miner to take a com- rade’s life. And, those who knew her had got to calling her the Angel of the Gulch, The bar-room was now full, to overflowing, with humanity, but she managed to gain a position near the protective hand of genial Sam Skinner, where she could watch those around her. After a long ride, the majority of the “ new citi- zens” repaired to the bar, where they proceeded to wash down the dust of the journey. Among others who came under Idyl’s gaze, was a well-formed, exquisitely-dressed dandyisn indi- vidual, whom everybody called Rosebud Rob. His was the appearance and genuine make-up of asport. His garments were elegant, both in quality and fit. The patent-leathers upon his feet, the flash- ne diamond upon his shirt-front, together with the white slouch hat upon his head, and numerous other appointments, including the cable-chain of gold, which was strung several times across his vest-front, all added to his appearance as that of one of those individuals occasionally encountered in the mines, and dubbed by the miners as ‘‘ sports.” The handsome, mustached face of the Sport, with its self-reliant expression, in whose hidden meaning were courage and resolution, and the keen dark eyes, with their magnetic influence, all attracted the attention of Idyl, from the instant she had caught sight of him. Her thoughts were upon him, as was her gaze, when there came a loud, bawling shout through the bar-room, and a brawny giant of a fellow pushed his wa) roughly through the crowd toward where the girl miner was standing. * Hooray!’’ he bellowed, at the top of his brazen lungs, with a broad oath, “who sez Cascade City hain‘t got purty weemin? Whar’s that same galoot as durst say thet thar ain’t purty angels hyar,in thes hemisfeer? I’m Cross-eyed Mike Gasket, pil- grims, ef ye wanter know who I be; I’m ther man who keeps tally o’ his conquests 0’ death and luv wi'a conductor's bell-punch, an’ when I roar ev’ry galoot’s a-tremblin’, Jest a bit ago, sum one whis- pered thet thar warn’t nary a purty female bird in ther diggin’s. Hooray! whar’s ther man now? Jest feast yer eyes on thet leetle baby yonder, my royal Bengal tigers. Jest score et down, how sweet she aire, will ye?” ‘And the giant bully stood glaring at Idyl, with a wolfish, greedy gleam in his eyes, that sent a thrill of terror through her frame, and caused her to tremble violently, “All I hev ter do,” continued the bully, ‘‘ar’ ter kiss a woman, an’ she ar’ henceforth a worshiper o’ my beauty ferever, you bet! An’ ef ye don’t b’lieve pe watch me fetch that leetle heifer yonder to e, A. cheer went up from the giant’s backers, as with a hitch at his breeches, he spat on his hands, and advanced a step toward Idyl. But it was only a step! “Stop!” she cried, suddenly leveling a pistol at his heart; ‘‘ stop, you big wretch! One step more, and, as God is my judec, you shall have the whole contents of my revolver!’ “Stop, you eross-eyed son of a buzzard!” cried a second ringing voice, and Rosebud Rob pushed through the crowd and stood by Idyl’s side, his arms folded across his chest, but a handsome revolver nevertheless, clutched in eitherhand. “If you want te nee anybody, come and chaw a piece out of my ip “Hip! hooray! them’s my sentiments, too,” cried a third voice, and the well-known face and figure of Baltimore Bess was ranked on the defensive. “* Come along, ye cross-eyed kangaroo ef ye’r’ anxious ter test our metal! Thar nevyer war a single knave as ked beat a full hand like ours.” “Oh, ho! (hei’s yer game, eh?” the giant growled, seeing several of the miners step_ over. ‘* Waal, we'll see about thet. I ain't fer fightin’ a hull regi- ment, butef any o’ ye valiant pilgrims want ter step out an’ measure length wi’me fer cash, why thar’s uo flunk in me, you bet!” “Do you mean that forme?” the Sport demanded, esbecaid the rosebud more securely in his button- ole, “Perzactly fer ye,” the giant replied, with a leer. “No more fun would I Juv than ter scrunch ye all up inter hash an’ toll my bell-punch over yer funeral remains,” “Then if you'll step outside, I allow that I am most happy to accommodate you,” Rosebud Rob said, coolly. “Don’t!—oh, don’t fight! please,” Idyl cried, in sudden alarm, tugging at the Sport’s arm. ‘Don’t fight that great monster. He will kill you. Oh! how can I forgive myself for getting you into this trouble?” “Trouble, lady? Why, you are not in the least to blame—and as for the trouble, ‘tis fun instead of trouble, I assure you. I have had my eye on this tough for some time. He is guilty of many crimes, and the sooner he cease to exist as a ruffian, the better for the safety of the people!” He then turned to Cross-eyed Mike, “Tam ready, you big booby. I guess it is light enough outside for our purpose. Get your rifle, and Vr as directly!” ‘Hold up yer horses!” the giant roared. “T hain’t a-goin’ ter grip po shutin’-iron, nor nuthin’ like et, Itell ye. Ther rib-ticklin’ carver is my holt ef ye please!” “Very welll!” Rosebud Rob replied, calmly. “TI am equally handy with it. But, as you have chosen the weapons, where it was my oe permit me to say which way the fighting shall be done?” ‘Yas, go ahead,” Gasket replied, with a brutal chuckle. ‘‘I don’t keer wich way, so long’s I git one pass at ye. Thet will settle ther debate, an’ Pil ri ing my bell-punch o’ death fer ther sixtieth time! The punch in question was a nickel-plated affair, with two thumb-springs, each of which when press- ed rung a bell within, and registered one upon a dial. It was similar to those used upon many of the street-car lines in cur large cities, and was worn by the ruffian, strung across his breast, making a pecu- liar ornament, Every time he took a human life, as he had in seores of instances, the ruffian was credited with ringing the bell. Upon the outside was the inscrip- tion—* Death,” Nearly every one shuddered when he announced his desire to complete his third score of deadly con- quests. Rosebud Rob did not shudder, but a feeling of 1'- ter loathing and hatred for the human brute enter. | ed hig heart, to be succeeded by a fixed resolve,
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12 Idyl, the Girl Miner. ‘As we are to use knives for this contest, we will rem-in in this room, gentlemen,’’ he said, coolly. “ Pl ase pass to one side of the room, so that none of you may get hurt. Sir Tough, you will place your back against one end of the room, with me on the opposite end. The distance between us is about twelve yards, Ishould say. You are to be provided with five knives, and I with an equal number. Ata given signal by the bartender, who is a disinterested party, we will hurl the knives at each other, with the intent, of course, to kill. I trust the spectators will see that there is fair play. Both men muststand up to the work, or be held up, until the best man has hurled his last weapon.” A deathlike silence reigned in the bar-room, at the conclusion of the Sport’s words. Every man stood leaning forward, with expecta- tion written upon his face, and bated breath, await- ing the issue. Cross-eyed Mike glared at the Sport a moment, half-admiringly; then turned with a fierce, ugly laugh, and threw off his jacket, itn ther huckleberry fer thet kind o’ bizness!” he said, grimly. ‘‘Efi ye wanter see sum high old fun, feller-cityzens, ye want ter watch me split open ther skull o’ thet scrumptious galloot wi’ ther rose- bud fastened inter his buttonholse. I kin do et, as I kin ehaw yen’son, w’ich ye know I ken do thet same.” The space was cleared, as directed by Rosebud ob. Knives, to the number of five to each, were pro- cured from the spectators. Before taking his position, Rosebud Rob glanced keenly about him—the longest, perhaps, into the pretty, scared face of Idyl Abbey. The gir!-miner stood one side, with very little color in her cheeks, and a tremor agitating every muscle, She drooped her gaze beneath the strange, inquir- ing one of the Sport. When she glanced up again he had turned and placed his back against the east- ern wall of the bar-room. Cross-eyed Mike had done the same, and stood with a Icnife in either hand, while three others were stuck in his belt, The bartender had mounted the bar; every man nearly in the room had drawn a weapon, to enforce fair play. Baltimore Bess stood near to Idyl, and as she saw the white face hastened to give assurance. “Don’t git skeered, little gal, for thar ain’t no harm goin’ ter cum ter thet Sport, an’ don’t ye fergit it. A tough customer in battle, ar’ thet same Rose- bud, an’ l'll bet high he sp‘iles the beauty o’ thet brute, kerslap.”’ ‘*Gents!”’ cried the barkeeper. standing to his full hight, with a pair of large-caliber revolvers in hand, “aire ye ready fer ther sermon ter begin?” “All ready heer!’’the giant announced, with a hoarse chuckle. ‘* Ditto here,’ Rosebud Rob assented, coolly. “Karect! Step one pace forward, so as yer arms kin hey full play.” The order was obeyed. “Now right hands raised, ready to hurl a knife apiece!”’ The right hands were raised, and the heavy hunt- ing-knives poised for the hurling, according to each man’s notion. Then there was a breathless pause, of several minutes’ duration, Simmonds, the barkeeper, gazed over the crowd of expectant faces below—saw that every man had drawn a weapon to insure fair play, * One!” he cried, suddenly and sharply let ’em drive when I say three, gents. Zwo! Take keer— THREE!” The words were barely formed in sound, when there was a sudden move of two right arms and the weapons of the contestants went hurtling through the air with an ominous whiz. . Ha) a frightful howl of pain comes from the cross- | eyed giant, and he leaps about like an infuriated wild beast. The keen-bladed knife of the Sport has neatly shaved off the right ear of his opponent, close to the skull, and then buried itself in the log of the wall, While a shout goes up from the spectators, as Rose- bud Rob is seen standing erect, unhurt, and as cool as an iceberg, to all appearances. Gasket’s knife had gone wide of its mark. “Order!” roared Simmonds, from on top of the bar. ‘Git back ter yer place, Cross-eye, or you're a dead man. Some one stanch the fiow o’ blood, please !’’ Ready hands bandaged up the giant’s wound, and beneath the gaze of a dozen or more revolver muz- zles, he cowered back to his end of the room, and drew a second knife, with a string of curses. “Get ready!” cried Simmonds, ‘‘ Hach man has an equal show, an’ I'm goin’ ter see the contract kerried out ter ther letter, ef ther old constitoochin’ Iknows herself. Don’t ye second ther motion, feller- citizens?” A shout of approval went up from the crowd, Baltimore Bess was in ecstasies, while Idyl stood with a pale face, and dilated eyes. She had never witnessed such a terrible battle; she could not speak; when she would have left the room, her limbs refuse to move. “Hurray! warn’t thet did skientific, now?’ Bess cried, excitedly. ‘‘I tell ye w’at, thar’s nothin’ like bein’a man. I wouldn’t be a woman no quicker’n T’'d chaw my own head off, you bet. Just watch thet Sport, now. He’s gittin’ ready fer ernuihor fling. ‘Ten ter one he cuts thet tough’s head clean 2 off.” he words startled Idyl back into herself once more; ber limbs no longer refused to mova. She glided to the side of the Sport, and Jaid on. and up- on his arm, appealingly. “Don’t!” she said, in a low, tremulous voice— “don’t kill the man—for my sake!’ “For your sake?” Rosebud Rob said, gazing down into the pretty face, with sudden admiration in his eyes, “For your sake, miss? You must have some purtickler passion, then, fer sech cowards as thet cuss, yonder,” “No! no! I despise him, even more than you do. But I don’t want murder done here, in Cascade City.” “But it wouldn’t be murder, I reckon, to drop thet galoot!” Yes, it would. Promise me not to kill him, to- night,” “I promise!” the Sport said, watching the girl, as she hurried back to the side of Baltimore Bess. “Cum. young feller wi’ ther rosebud—are ye ready?” Simmonds cried. “Quite ready!" the Sport replied, “ An’ ye, Cross-eyes?”’ ““Give’s the word!’’ the giant said, with a voice like a bull's roar. _ He had poised his knife, and was evidently count- ing upon a sure stroke for victory. “Ready, gents!” cried Simmonds, briskly. ‘‘ One, two, three!” The word had scarcely passed his lips ere the knives left the hands of the duelists, and went whiz- zing ominously through the air. Every one, perhaps, except the contestants, shud- dered as the missiles of death shot forward. A wild, awful yell came from the giant, while the eee broke into a simultaneous shout of astonish- ment. What did it mean? Was the cool Sport, who stood unhurt at his end of the room—was he possessed of the art of witchcraft? It would seem so. None such knife-throwing had these denizens of the Black Hills ever witnessed before. For this last shot was no less than wonderful. The Sport, upon hurling his weapon, had given it a send-off something after the manner in which the native of the South Sea Islands hurls his boomerang;
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Ydyl, the Girl Miner. 13 tik eee eee eet it had made a peculiar curve in its flight, and the sharp blade, in passing close to the giant’s tace, had completely clipped off the extreme end of his nose { CHAPTER VI. OLD FOES MEET—ROSEBUD ROB AGAIN, Yes, it was even sol! The man with the bell-punch was minus one ear and the end of his nose, of which he was ever proud, as he had got it colored as finely as ever the jolly German colored his meerschaum, And with howls and oaths of despair and rage, the jant, blood-blinded, as it were, drew another knife rom his belt and poised it, waiting for the signal to hurl it at his cool and defiant young foe opposite. The latter was similarly prepared, and at the word they let fly. Cross-Eyed Mike’s weapon just grazed the left shoulder of the Sport, y The knife of Rosebud Rob went wide of its mark, and a murmur from the spectators was sufficieut guarantee that they did not believe the Sport had made the miss without a ose. Agaid the duelists took their stand. Again they hurled the knives, Gasket’s weapon carrying away a piece of the Sport’s coat-sleeve; while the latter’s knife went quivering into the log wall, not an inch away from the one previously thrown. ; But one knife apiece now remained to be thrown. Cross-Eyed Mike grasped his, with a chuckle. “I'm jest gittin’ my hand in!” he said, fiercely. “Ill split the cuss’s skull open this time, an’ then gobble up thet bit o’ feminine kaliker over yander, arfter I’ve tolled my bell-punch!"’ Pretty {dyl shrunk nearer to Baltimore Bess, as she heard the ruffian’s threat and caught his gloat- ing glance. 4 "Don't be skeered, leetle one!” Bess whispered, reassuringly. ‘‘'Ten ter one Bobby puts in his work beauchiful this time. "I'wixt you an’ me, 1'll bet thar’s nary a pilgrim in these hyar mines as kin lay over thet same leetle Sport.” ; The men took their relative positions; the word was given by Simmonds; the missiles flew through the air swiftly, ‘ There was a groan and a heavy fall at the giant’s end of the room. The butt of the knife-hilt had struck him endwise, between his organs of sight, and ended the duel, as had been the intention of the Sport, for he cast a contemptuous glance at tpe fallen bully, and turned away. A shout of defeaning applause rent the air, and a crowd surrounded the Sport, with expressions of ad- miration aud congratulation. _ q Idyl now took the opportunity to ali from the room, and run around to her own part of the cabin. She found Sir Tom Somerset sitting in the door- way, but Old Elk, the Hermit, was nowhere in sight. “Where is papa?’ she demanded, breathlessly pausing in front of the young baronet, as he did no’ arise to let her pass. — . : “He retired some time ago, I believe. Miss Idyl,” was the reply. ‘“‘Isuppose you know it’s past his bedtime.” ‘ **No! what time is it? Iwas so—” “Bngrossed in a low saloon brawl, that you had forgotten yourself,” he finished, with biting sarcasm. “It is twelve o'clock. Miss Abbey—high time, I should say, for you to be in bed!” A flush of resentment went rioting over her pretty ‘ace. “Sir? You use strange words—and you a guest at that!” f “A paying one, however,” he returned, lightly. “JT am under no obligations to either you or Mr. Abbey, except for the first few days of my stay here.” “Why do you remain?” she demanded. suddenly, turning the full power of her eyes upon him. * Wh do you remain here, where you cannot derive muc safoynient?” “I remain because I want you,” he replied, in a low, passionate voice; *‘ because I am determined to win you yet, and carry you away when I go.” “Phen let me dissipate any such a hope,” she re- plied, coldly. “I can never be anything more to you than a friend. You had better know this now, than later. Go back to your English home, and forget that you ever met Idy] Abbey!” “No! no! I cannot, Idyl—” “You must, Isay. You are only making yourself miserable by remaining here. I will plainly and can- didly tell you, once and for all—I do not love you, and can never be your wife.” She pushed by him then and entered the cabin, leaving behind her one of the most wretched beings in Cascade City, unless we were to make allowance for the Man-With-the-Bell-Punch, who had suffered the loss of his ear and nose-tip at the hands of Rose- bud Rob. But Sir Tom was not the one to be put off lightly. He knew that there was worth to a woman like Idyl Abbey, and that the possession of her was, in every sense of the word, worth working for. On the following morving, Idyl was up with the first streak of dawn in the east, and after a basty breakfast, was out at her claims, working away in golden sands. The day was one of those mild Indian summer days, which serve to charm and Jull the senses, A misty haze hung above the gulch, through which the sun penetrated mildly. The valley was thronged, to-day, thronged with would-be miners and speculators, with roughs and sha pers, whose business was doubtful, at the best. The girl-miner accomplished but little, in the way of washing out wealth, for she was repeatedly both- ered by persistent inquirers, who were eager to pro- cure a slice out of the golden cake. General expressions of disappointment were heard on either hand. _ gulch was no bonanza, after all the excite- ment. Two men were talking the matter over, as they stood near where Idyl was working. “The girl here has got the best part, evidently,” said Lord Byron Cavendish, watching her with a bold, insolent stare, which caused her to feel »neasy —forshe knew that. his eyes were turned upon her, even though she did not look at him. ‘ The girl's got the best claim, and consequently there is a poor show for the rest of the fellows.” “Unless their digging results in a bigger dis- covery," replied the second individual, a Mr. Charles Devere, of Custer City. “TI would give a good deal to posses this claim!” Cavendish muttered, lowering his tone. “I could then get back some of the money I have lost lately at the gaming-table. Is there no way we could de- throne this girl and get the claim in our possession? A couple of clever villains like you and I cught to manage it all right.” “ Hardly,’ Devere replied. “If the girl was here first and staked off her own, she can hold it, in spite of the—the devil!’ with a sardonic laugh. “Have you learned her name yet?” “T believe they call her Idyl.” hy Idyll a strange name; likewise, a deuced pretty girl.’ “Yes, remarkably so.” “ Could we not persuade her to sell out her claim ata nominal figure, do you think?” Devere shook his head. * She’s no fool, I'll guarantee,"’ he said. Lord Cavendish, however, had a conceited notion that American women were possessed of an intellect only a trifle above the beasts of the forest, © regarded them as beneath his serious notice, - unless there was a bargain to be made, Of Idyl Abbey, however, he bad a little more ele- vated opinion. She was unusually pretty perhea had money saved Ups and that was an item of de- cided advantage in the Britisher’s eyes,
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i4 idyl, the Girl Miner, : iecetean <2 “Ahem! Is this claim for sale, young lady?” he yentured to ask finally, in his oiliest tones. “Not for sale!’ Idyl pence: briefly, for she liked not the appéarance of the baronet or his companion. “T have answered this same question for a matter of ten or fifteen times to-day.” “Oh! well, you needn’t be so independent about it!’ Cavendish said, insolently. ‘I've seen Indian squaws twice as polite as you.” + “Sir!” and Idyl flushed hotly, ‘if you come here to annoy me, you are unwelcome, You will please take your departure!” : ~ “Wh? Go at the order of a mere chit Of a girl like you?” his lordship exclaimed. ‘ Perhaps you do not know who I am, young woman?” “Well, now, then, who are you ? Idyl demanded, picking up her rifle and leaning upon it, while she surveyed the two men coolly. ‘Go ahead and give us a full account of yourself.” Cavendish uttered a polite English oath, while De- vere simply whistled. It was a picture neither of them could help admir- | ng. aah! ahem! my pert miss, my name is Caven- dish, at your service—Lord Byron Cavendish, of London.” - “Very well!” the Angel of the Gulch replied, cool- ly. ‘1 see nothing of special importance in that fact. You're no better than any one else!” “You shall find out about that!’’ Cavendish raved, his face growing florid with mortification, ‘Come! let’s go back to the hotel, Devere I’ve a thoughtin my mind concerning this girl, which I want to whis- per in your ear. Good-day, Miss Independence—au revoir |” + F i watched them walk away, her eyes dilating widely. ‘They are a pair of villains,” she mused, a feeling of uneasiness stealing over her, ‘‘Cavendish? ah! that was the name of Sir Tom Somerset’s fellow- tourist.”” . She went on with her work, but it was with a feeling of unrest. Lord Cavendish and the man, Devere, went back to the ‘howtel,” as Mrs. Matrevis’s establishment yee characterized upon a creaking sign up over the oor, “The girl’s a regular spitfire!’ the Britisher growled, in vexation. “She rather cooled you off,’ Devere laughed, “Takes a woman to make a man feel that he isn’t 0’ much account, anyhow.” “Hang the women! I want that spot of land, and I'm going to have 1t by hook or by crook! 0 is the girl's father, and where does she live, I won- der?’ “There's her father, now,” and the man from Custer City pointed a short distance away, where Old Elk was sitting in his arm chair, beneath the willow, engaged insmoking hisgrimy pipe. “That's her, father, an’ she lives wi’ him in the cabin, I reck- Cavendish gazed closely at the Hermit as he ap- proached nearer, and finally he gave a violent start, and an expression of incredulity came over his fea- tures. ‘ Jason Abbey! Can it be possible?” he cried, leaping forward with an oath. 2 ‘Ay! the old man cried, seizing one of his crutch- és, and raising if on the defensive; “ Jason alia Keep back, Ronald Dorchester! keep back! or T will dash your brains out, as old asIam, and not half the man I was ten years ago!” ; Cavendish, ali7s Dorchester, laughed sneeringly. “Don’t fear, old fellow! I wouldn't touch ahair of your head, were every hair a golden chain. evere, T'll see you later.” : é Devere bowed. He recognized a polite hint for him to be gone, and he accordingly strolled toward the cascade, to pass away the time. After he had gone, Lord Cavendish had brought a chair from inside the cabin and seated himself in front of tho Hermit, just out of reach of the oaken crutch. A wonderful change had come over the Hermit in the last few minutes. He had straightened up from his habitual bent position, with tense museles and clinched hands, n His face, though shaded by a grayish pallor, was resoliite ii its expression, and his eyes had a steely glitter that they had not possessed before. “ Well?’ Cavendish said, with a complacent smirk, as ho stroked his luxurant side-whiskers. ‘ It seems that I have found your hiding-place at last, when I was least ete f of you. a! ha! your surprise must have becn about equal to mine.” “On the contrary, I have been expecting this,” the Hermit replied, calmly—so calmly as to cause the visitor to glance at him the second time. “I had been looking for you during the past two years, knowing there was no gold excitement without its influx of blacklegs and unprincipled knaves,” “ Hal ha! a good way of brushing a fly off of my nose, isn’t it? Well, well, fire away, old man, I can stand io amount of verbal abuse. By the way, I see you have grown old in tho last decade-—older than I, even, albeit our ages used to be the same.” “ Yes, grown old,” was the slow reply; “but it is better to be nigh unto a glorious hereafter, than to have one’s soul burdened with crime, Ronald Dor- chester!” “Indeed! Is that so? But, my dear Abbey, re- frain from calling me Dorchester. My name, for the pa fevy years, has been Lord Byron Cavendish. ou see an old uncle died and bequeathed me his wealth and title. Not but what Dorchester was ever an honorable name; but, you see, it seems a little odd after all my lordly career.” The Hermit somehow managed to articulate a faint laugh of scorn at this juncture. “Tsee you are the same conceited scoundrel of old!” he said. “But come! I do not care to pro- long this interview. State your business, and go!” “T shall take my time to that,” the other an- nouncen, decidedly. ‘I propose to have a social chat with you.” ‘* You have a social chat with me?” the Hermit cried, his voice rising with trembling anger; “ you, who stole away my bride from her first-born child? I placed my curses upon your heads then, as I do now. Because J won a woman you would have ruined, and made her my wife, Roland Dorchester, you vowed to wreak vengeance upon me and mine, ou have done so—what more do you want?” “T want a continuation of thé same, unless we can come to a settlement!” the Englishman replied, with an affected yawn. ‘You do not ask about your wife, Jason, as I supposed you would?” “Ask about her!” the Hermit hissed, with an in- tense bitterness of tone—‘*she whom you enticed away from her husband and child. I have no wife, you accursed villain! The hour that Hellice Abbey left my roof she ceased to be anything to me or the ebild she bore me.” § ¢ “The girl down the gulch yonder is that child, I presume?” “The same,” “T should have judgedso. She seems to jossess many of your wife’s traits of character. For in- stance, at her age in life. 1 see that she has got so far advanced vhat a couple of roughs were fighting | over her in the bar-rvom last evening.” ‘*A couple of roughs, sir?” exclaimed a cool, eyni- eal voice, and a trim, dandyish figure stepped around . the corner of the cabin. ‘* Allow me to correct your mistake, and at the same time tender you an invita- tion to méet me, at your earliest convenience. A ‘rough’ implies that which is of no credit to a thoroughbred gentleman, and I thought it might be just as well to have a pistolic debate on the subject now, as at any later period.” S Cavendish uttered an oath and leaped to his feet. Before him stood the sportive notoriety, Rosebud
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Idyl, the Girl Miner. 15 ; F Rob, the same cool sharp, whose* name was being handled in awe by the gossipy miners, wherever his advent had taken place. : ‘A flush of malicious anger dyed the florid counte- nance of the Englishman to a more apoplectic hue as he surveyed the Sport. “What do you mean, you accursed eavesdrop- per?” he growled, savagely, ‘‘ I'll teach you man+ ners!” “My challenge just now wouldseem to imply that T was willing to take a few lessons from you, my lord,’? Rosebud Rob replied, satirically. : ** What! I fight you? Cavendish gasped, as if seized with sudden horror at the thought ‘“ Why, you insignificant puppy, I’d disdain to touch the point of a weapon with you—I would, ‘ron my hon- or. You see, I never fight, except with a gentleman.” “Indeed? Then you are afraid to fight with me, eh?” “ Certainly not.” “Then why don’t you accept the challenge, you cowardly sneak?” Cavendish trembled with suppressed rage. To be called a ‘‘cowardly sneak’ was the hight of insult; yet he was aware that he must not — with the cool Sport if he would preserve his ownlife. He had witnessed the strange duel of last night, and he had no desire to measure skill with so wondérful a marks- man. **You shall be satisfied,”’ Cavendish gritted, ‘* but not now; another time will do just as well.” ‘4 « Certainly,” the Sport replied, with a quiet smile. “Tl give you time to square up your earthly ac- counts, and to determine which way you would pre- fer to be sent off. Until then I bid you an affection- ate adieu.” And, with a mocking laugh, the dandy _of the mines walked away, whistling a strain from La Son- nambula in a peculiarly piercing tone. Cavendish watched him with a black frown for several minutes, then turned upon the Hermit, with a sarcastic chuckle. CHAPTER VIL A HUSBAND-HUNTER—THE HUNTED BARONET. “Trar’s the individual who took the part of your daughter, friend Jason,” he said, resuming his seat. “ No doubt you are deeply impressed with his flashy appearance and apparent bravado!” © At the very Jeast, he has evidently more manly principles than you!” the Hermit replied, bitterly. ‘Ronald Dorchester, tell me what you want—then ©, Your presence is gall and wormwood to me,”’ “That is why I am delighted to stay with you,” the villain replied; ‘‘but as I do not wish to be undu- ly hasty in worrying you out of the world, I'll state my business and go. We may as well be friends as enemies. I bear you no particular ill-will, and Iam sure you could learn to have me as a son-in-law, in due time.” ; “ What?” the Hermit gasped. half starting from hisseat, ‘‘ Are you mad, man?” “Perfectly sane, I assure you. ‘Your girl is a pretty lass, and would thake me a good wife, no doubt.” é : “Stop! Tis certainly madness to discuss such an idea, Ronald Dorchester. Before I’d see my Idyl wedded to a scoundrel like you. 1’d. cut her pure white throat with my own half-palsied hands!” “a! ha! bravely spoken. my dear Abbey; but in- dicative of a weak mind nevertheless. Were there an asylum for the demented within easy reach of this desolate spot, I should certainly see to your re- moval there at once. _By-the-by, do not get excited but consider matters from a rational standpoint, and when I return I shall expect to find you willing to comply with all of my requests!” “Nol Ronald Dorchester!’ the Hermit bissed, as thé baronet arose and walked away. ‘ You’ll never convert me into a tool to serve your purposes. My experience with you has been too bitter—too bitter for me not to be on my guard.” Cavendish, as we will continue to call him, walked around the cabin to the eastern side, where was the entrance to Mrs. Matrevis’s saloon. He was on the eve of entering, when a touch upon the arm caused him to wheel about, with a grunt of inquiry. But an expression of mingled curiosity and dis- gust came over his features when he saw who it was, It was the eccentricity of whom Jake Johnson had a een to Idyl—the husband-hunter, Mrs. George Washington Bounce, 4 Of all females she was, perhaps, the most eccentric and ee ee of any in the mines, What little of her features were to be seen were sharp and angular, with a hooked nose, sbarp, bead- like eyes, and a mouth of broad-gauge dimensions, In addition, her countenance was liberally washed with that article of the feminine toilet known as ‘* lily-while,” and the cheeks tinged with rouge. An olden-time “‘ sky-scraper”’ bonnet, surrounded ther face and covered her head, being plentifully adorned with artificial roses and loud ribbons. In form she was long and lank, and her dress, of huge- red calico, with something like two yards of train behind, and a scant red shawl over her shoulders, gave her a strange, grotesque appearance, And what such a creature could want with him was beyond Lord Cavendish’s powers of comprehension, to say the least. “Well, woman, what is it?’ he growled, gruffly. “ Shure an’ phat is it?” the woman replied. ‘* Faix, an’ there’s nary a woman in the town better than mesilf, ef I do say it.” “Hang your nonsense. Tell me what you want, or go alone with your accursed baggage.” “A divil a bit o’ baggage hev I at all, yer honor, It’s a poor lone widdy I am, shure, who be buffetin’ the say of adversity, wid nary a hope for ther future except to find a foine gentleman to take the place lift vacant in me bladin’ heart by the dith o’ Mike Maloney. Och! wurra! a divil uv a foine husband was that same Michael, but now he’s a hod-carrier up forninst the angels!” “In the name of Heaven, woman, how does this concern me? I never saw you before!” “Shure, but the same nade make no difference, at all. I’m a poor widdy, an’ ye be a bachelor. Take me to your arms, along with all ther luv ov the Maloneys, for centur’es to come.” “Nonsense! This woman is mad, Get away, you Trish vagrant!’ and giving her a push. he managed to dive into the tavern. and escape to his room. While outside, Mrs. G. G. W. Bounce, glared around her for another victim, upon whom to pounce, Rosebud Rob was standing a short distance away, conversing with Idyl. Seeing which Mrs, B, m for him unceremoniously. “Aha! me darlint, it’s mesilf as hev found yez!” she exclaimed, with a radiant grin, as she endeavor- ed to throw herself into the Sport’s arms, ‘Shure, an’ it’s huntin’ I've been these menny days fer yez. Divil a bit will I give ye up now.” ¢%> **Confound it, what do you mean, you old lunatic? I’m no darlint 0’ yours!” Rosebud Rob replied, push- ing her away, at arm’s length. ‘*Who are you, anyhow?” $ “Och! divil a soul knows better than mesilf who T.be. Mrs. Gineral George Washington Bounce, at yer sarvice, tho’ it’s formerly the wife av Mike Ma- joney that I was. Shure Mike he died from a-earry- in’ the hod, he did, an‘ thin comes along an Ameri- can spalpeen, bad luck to him, an’ he fluthers one eyevat mesilf, an’ he sez, sez he, the omadhaun: “Cum wid me, Biddy, ye flower ay tha Emerald sod, to that land av ‘the frae American, an’ be the wife av Gineral George Washington; shure it’s a divil av a foine time we'll have, ontirely’! Poor de- luded fule that I was, I kim/over the big puddle, an we landed at, Castle Garden, one mornin’ in the month av August. ‘* Sez the gineral to me, thin: k : “ Biddy, me treasure, jist be afther loanin’ me the,
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16 Idyl, the Girl Miner. five hundred that yez got from the sale av the wee cot on the ould sod, an’ w’ile I run forninst the bank, ye’ll be rollin’ away to me palace, on tha avenue. An’, shure, I smelt nothing at all, an’ he tuk the money, put me into a cab containin’ a man, wid brass buttons on his coat—his liveried servant I belave he called ’im—an’ furst I know’d I was in a place tha called the Tombs—an’ they sed as how I was ’rested, bedad, for sth’alin’, An’ whin I told the spalpeens that I was Mrs. Gineral George Washing- ton, tha mother av,me counthry, they all laughed, an’ a big polaceman told me to ‘ bounce’. [ ‘ boune- ed’! but everywhere I wint, an’ told ’em who I was, they’d simply say ‘bounce,’ an’ it’s mesilf as kim to tha final conclusion that ‘Bounce’ must be a parth o’ my name ontirely.’’ 4 ‘Ha! ha! this is rich!’” Rosebud Rob cried, rig fe ing heartily, as did Idyl, for in the relation of her narrative, the ‘‘widder’”’ had adhered to the broad Irish twang, and had pitched her voice to a sharp, indignant key. “My good woman, what became of the ‘general ’, and what brings you out here in the mines?” ‘Och! wurra! shure, an’ they told me tha same ‘gineral’ was a noted—corkleg, I think tha called it, an’ that he had swindled me out o’me money. Jest as ifT didn’t know the same! But divil a bit keered I. There was niver a Maloney, nor the son ov a eeuey, noor tha wife of a Maloney, as would cry forninst spilt milk; an’I set forth in s’arch of anither husband ter take tha place av poor Mike Maloney, that is deceased.” “And you have been unsuccessful, so far, I take it?’ the Sport asked. “ Faix, an’ it’s mesilf that has, that same. Divil a mon hev I met wid a heart in him at all, or an eye for thrue beauty av tha desolate, soul-yearnin’ wid- dy av George W. Bounce.”’ Well, well, this is really sinful, that no one can appreciate your manifold charms. Did you try the man you met at the saloon doora bit ago?” “Shure, an’ there’s nary a mon in the camp I haven’t offered mysilf to, But, they all say ‘git eout,’ or, ‘bounce, ye Irish vagrant,’ an’ sure it’s a sick ould place, ontirely.”” “You must not be discouraged!’’ Rob assured, a sparkle in his eye. ‘“‘The man you met at the door is an English lord, and no doubt if you po your case, you can strike a tender chord in his heart, and the ultimate result will be, that you discard the American name of Mrs. General George Washington Bounce, for the aristocratic English title of Lady Byron Cavendish!” “‘Arrah! an’ do yez raelly think that same, yer honer?” “There can be no doubt of it, my dear woman. Cavendish seems to have a passion for comely wo- men, and your case bids fair to win, if you only hang to your work with the perseverance of a bull-dog. Take my advice—don’t give him a minute’s peace until he makes a his wife. Asan encouragement if you succeed, I'll give you a hundred dollars out of my own pocket!” * Och! now, but it’s foolin’ wid me ye be, yer hon- er!” and Mrs. G. W. B’s face became gloriously il- luminated. “ Not a bit of it. You do your work, and I’llstand by my word, as sure’s my name is Rosebud Rob, ‘a man to suit all cireumstances.’” “Thin, by the hand of the Virgin Mary! it’s niver a day shall go by but I pop the momentious question to tha loikes of his rede at eried Mrs. Bounce decidedly, and the next minute she had wheeled about, and was pacing rapidly off toward the hotel. When she was out of igesce Rosebud Rob burst ed a shout of laughter, which lasted for several minutes. “You'll see fun hereafter,” he said at last. ‘If I do not mistake that woman’s metal, she'll make it ip for aed rascal,” ‘ 0 you strange creature a woman, sir? Jay] asked, : ie a not a woman? Do you really believe it, miss?’ “T asked you if you thought her such, sir? I pass- ed no opinion.” “True. But—but hang it! she looks and acts like one. I don’t believe but what she’s pure quill!’’ “Perhaps you are right. But you will have to ex- cuse me now, I must go to work, or my day will have been idly spent, for interruptions have been numerous to-day.” “Ah! I will go, then. Pray excuse me for my thoughtless intrusion; it shall not be repeated.” “JT did not mean you, sir, particularly, Mr. Maple- ton. Youl regard as a friend, since you so bravely came to my rescue, and friends and strangers, you know, one cannot afford to grant equal privileges.” Rosebud Rob bowed, but excused himself and sauntered away. He saw that the girl miner pos- sessed a maidenly modesty, and it was not for to confuse it by intruding. After escaping the daughter of Hibernia, Lord Cavendish hastened to his room, which was directly over the saloon, and found Devere there, engaged in reading a yellow-covered novel. ¥ This man from Custer City was in no single partic- ular a great villain. His was an easy nature, and, in his bringing up. he had never been taught what it was to be scrupulous. Anything which offered him the easiest way to attain an easy livelihood was what he liked best, and he had come to Cascade City to “‘make a stake,’ without considering how it was to be done. He and Lord Cavendish had met on the wary and, for a stipulated sum, Devere had consent- ed to serve the Britisher. ‘“Well, my lord, you evidently met an old ac- quaintance in the Hermit down there?” he said, look- ing a from his book. “Yes; an old enemy,’’ the baronet replied. “TI should as soon have expected to find him here, as I would to find the devil in a church-pulpit. But, as it turns out, it may bea lucky chance that cause me to stumble upon him.” “In respect to the girl?” “ Exactly. She is pretty, and would not grace a palace so badly, after all.’ “Especially when she has a princely fortune back of her beauty.” ‘*A fortune?” “Yes. Had you not heard the little story about the old Hermit’s hidden treasure? They say he’s been bai out gold in this valley for the past ten Y Cen and that he’s got it hidden away, by the bag- “ Hal Thad not heard of this, Is there any truth in the report?”! ‘* As to that. 1 am unable to say. Probably the re- - would not have originated without some foun- ation.’ , The Englishman knitted his brows together, dark- “If this be true, Devere, you and I must have that treasure,” he said, in a low tone. “We must first find out where it is secreted, and then the old man must die a seemingly natural death. Then, we can take the girl and the gold, return to the old world, and live like nabobs. How like you the picture?” “The picture is well enough, if executed right. But, there is the stick. It’s easy enough to talk, but not toact. I have just been reading of a notorious villain, at heart, who laid a plan to ruina young man. and get possession of his fortune. He maneuvered like a good fellow, but finally was foiled, and brought to speedy justice, as villains usually are.” “Pooh! if you get your brain full of such non- Sense, you may calculate to be defeated. I am no fool to imperil my neck, and consequently, we must work in extra cards, in the game, There’s that rough customer they call Cross-Eyed Mike, for ex- | ample,” =. ae |
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2 47 “4S yy Af ZY Six a .) a = w= z co) oO | Sd bh bio] = Susp’ y Wares, P32 yt ha yh Ae Wwe man Fadl 5, Senta ~~ Rea aoe £8 BL = | —
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“Humph! I judge he is about done for, for the present, what with the loss of an ear and a nose.” oe Nevertheless, we could not get a better man to serve us—that is, if we can get him. He has the savage ferocity of a bulldog, and the memory of a tohacco-fed elephant.” : ‘* But a bigger coward at heart never lived!” ** How do you mean?” “T mean what I said. He is a coward, especially mee he meets such men as that Sport, Rosebud ob. ‘*Qurse the Sport!’ Cavendish growled, with a frown. “ He is an obstacle in my path—an obstacle which must be removed” * You fear him, then?” “Ay! Pilown that Ido. There is only one other living man whom I fear more.” “Who is that?” * His name is Joaquin Muriete.” “What! the toll-gate keeper on the new road?” “The game. I never go to bed at night but his re- vengeful face rises before my mind’s-eye like some evil phantom.” “What have you to fear from him, my lord?”’ “It matters not now. Some other time I'll tell you.” And rising abruptly, the villain left the room. A week passed. Matters at Cascade City had assumed a change of aspect, inasmuch as the population had increased to a poupl of hundred souls, and every incoming stage added to this number. The commercially-inclined men had arrived among the rest, and several little stores and saloons had gone up, as well as numerous dwellings. Evidently Cascade City was to be a mining-town in earnest, for some paying spots of sand had been found down the valley, and all available territory had been leased off at high figures. But in the midst of the increasing tide of prosper- ity, when men could gambleif they could not mine themselves rich or poor in a single day—in the midst of all the bustle and excitement there was many a complaint raised, many a dark threat made, against one man, and that man Joaquin Muriete, Jr. Since the opening of the new road, and, by the way, the only direct route to the new strike, the travel over it had been considerable, owing to the inflowing of the miners. No other route was there, without making a detour of twenty or thirty miles, and this was not desirable. Yet, not a stage—not a person passed over the road, unless he paid toll at the little shanty on the dug-way. Five dollars apiece for each human pass ing by the gate, was charged, except in the case of Jake Johnson, stage driver. Why he was left out, no one could rightly guess. On several occasions there had been resistance on the part of gangs of miners and roughs, against pay- ing such an enormous toll, but when dark-faced Joaquin'’s whistle had called a score or more of brawny masked men to his backing, the toll was inevitably forthcoming. If Joaquin Muriete had constructed the road, why had be not the right to ckarge each person toll that passed over it? This was the concession of a few, but the general verdict of the Cascade-City-ites was that they were being robbed by the highway toll-gate-keeper. And it bad been boldly announced that it would be worth the life of this man Joaquin, for him to set his foot within the precincts of that mining-town. Yet the chief was abroad at times when he was unexpected. Byron Cavendish was returning to his hotel, late one night, from a gambling den down the gulch. when he heard a footstep in his rear, and turned just in time to catch a faint glimpse of a dark figure, which had been following him: With a curse, he snatched a pistol from his belt, and fired; but his only answer was a mocking laugh. f tdyl, the Girl Miner. es While, the next minute, there was a whiz and a whir, and he uttered a piercing yell, as an arrow tore into the flesh of his right side. He heard another mocking laugh, and then a horse dashing rapidly through the valley, and he knew that his assailant was escaping. Not possessed of the courage to extract the wea- pon, he staggered on to the bar-room of Mrs. Ma- er establishment, where ready hands offered im aid. And, after the blood had been stanched, and the wound dressed, a piece of paper was discovered wrapped around the shaft of the arrow, and handed tothe baronet. _ It contained a single line, written ina bold hand, and these were the words: “ The i0th of October. Beware!” CHAPTER VIII. ‘“A FRANTIC MOTHER KNOWS NO BARRIER BETWEEN HERSELF AND CHILD,” Tux Sport, Rosebud Rob, independent of the ac- commodations offered by the boarding-house keep- ers of Cascade City, had reared him a shanty of his own, in the gulch, and kept bachelor’s hall. Since that afternoon when Idy! had spoken of be- ing disturbed in her labors, he had never visited her at her work. But this did not hinder their frequent meeting. The Sport was usually sitting in his door- way as she passed homeward at the completion of her day’s labors, and it was rarely that they did not have a short chat, After one of these interviews one evening Rosebud Rob was not a little surprised to receive an inter- view from the young baronet, Sir Tom Somerset, who siill lingered in the mines, although he was growing pale and thin. He nodded carelessly, and dropped upon the grass before the door of the shanty with a sigh. Rosebud Rob knew nothing of him, except what he had learned from Idyl, and that was by no means satisfactory. v The girl miner was ever reseryed in her speech. “You are Rosebud Rob, eh?” Sir Tom said, star- ing straight at the Sport. **T have the honor of being called that same,” was the reply. ‘In what way can I serve you, sir?” “There is a way—but of that never mind, at pres- ent. I came here, as a man, to ask you a few ques- tions, and | trust you will answer them in a straight- forward manner. Will you not?” “Rest assured on that,’ Rosebud Rob replied. “Anything in my power which I can do for a suffer- ing fellow-mortal, I always am ready to offer.” * “Then, tell me! how much do you care for the girl miner?” “Miss Idyl?”” mae How much do you really care for that girl?’ “See here; ain’t you striking out a little too fast? Not being a minstrel end-man.I don’t propose to digest such conundrums as that.” ‘But you must tell me.” “Well, if I must, supposin’ I were to say that I regard her as a very dear friend.” “No more?” 4 “There you are again, pushin’ beyond the bound- aries. J told you I regarded her as a very dear friend. If I war dealin’ in sentimentalism, an’ boast- ed o’ her bein’ very dear as a sweetheart, most probably I should hev sed it squar’ out.” “Very well. This girl loves you!” “Phew! What’s the matter with you? Are you a kind o’ match-maker—a matrimonial huckster fer ther girl, or what?” “The girl loves you,” Sir Tom repeated, coolly. “T know it, even though she never said so. to my knowledge. The girl loves you, and you don’t care a snap of your finger for her, while 7do. Now, Vil tell you what ['ll do, You step out of the field— -————
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Tdyi, the Girl Mixer, 16 ear out of her sight for good and leave me to win, and I'll make you a present of a thousand pounds!” “What? You buy me off? Offerme a paltry sum of money to clear out, just so you can step in and win the girl?” “Yes. I am confident she would turn to me if you were out of the way.” “Well! well! well! this is about the most cheek proposal I ever received!” Rosebud Rob exclaimed, with a laugh. “ Nevertheless, you accept my offer, sir?’? Somer- set said, eagerly. “ Nevertheless, I don’t do anything of the kind!” the Sport replied, “And why not?” “ Because, if Idyl Abbey cared a cent’s worth for yeu, aoe not neglect you for a miserable coot like myse ir Tom bowed bis head upon his hands for a mo- ment, then arose and walked away. “That fellow’s a goner, sure!” the Sport mut- tered, as he gazed after him through the Eeeperce gloom. “Cupid’s struck him slap in the heart, with one of those confounded arrows. Well, that’s the way it goes, anyhow. Here I've been idling away a week or over, when I should have been at work. And all because of a pretty face. Work is now be- fore me, and I must delay no longer.” He rose from the step impatiently, and entered the cabin, closing the door behind him. His quarters were not furnished in a very palatial manner, for a table, stool and cot-bed constituted the furniture, unless might be mentioned a stock of fire-arms, and a few cooking-utensils over by the fire-place. A bull’s-eye lantern sat upon the table and lighted the apartment sufficient for the Sport’s purpose. He first seated himself at the table, after which he drew a package of papers from his pocket. “Here is the map given me by the Detective- Avenger, Nugget Ned,” he muttered, spreading a sheet of paper out before him, ‘and this is what I want. It is the complicated key to the Secret Mine, which I am the owner of when I findit. But it’s a uzzle to study out. Every time I’ve tackled it so ‘ar I’ve got disgusted and thrown it aside.” On page 17 we give a fac-simile of the rude map, which had been given the sport in Deadwood, as related in No, 64, of beadle’s Pocket Library. “Now, who in the name of Old Harry can make head or tail out of such a mess?”’ the Sport muttered. ‘* Here on another paper is the key. according to Nug- get Ned’s understanding, which far surpasses mine, if he knows how to find the secret mine ¥ this trap. The directions are as follows: ‘ Start S. W., and qo NV. E. to main trail. Go N. W. to Crook ; thence due west to blind canyon ; N. W.. over mountains ; find valley; fais; search.’ Now, blast. my eyes. if that isn’t a fine way to give a fellow information. I’ve found the valley and the falls undoubtedly; the next thing is to find the secret mine. He gives me the interesting advice to search for it. But where in the deuce is a feller to search? In the earth, where all the other sanguine mortals are digging, or in the waters? Ha! a thought strikes me. The falls! What were they inscribed upon the map for, if not of use?” i Lighting a cigar, he continued to go over the map carefully. “Tn under where the falls of the map would seem to pour over the precipice is a figure x!” he mur- mured—“ very small, but yet discernible. I wonder if any importance is attached to that? By Jove! I believe I’ve at last stumbled upon the right clew. The secret mine is somewhere about these falls, and in that mine men are working in golden rock, unbeknownst to the world at large. And Iam the only living man who has the knowledge of this mine, except those miners, whoever they are, Iam the.captain of a band of unknowns!” 3 “No! you err there. I am the captain in your stead!” The words rung through the room in a strange, cool voice, and Rosebud Rob wheeled around, to find that he was not alone. A man stood close by, with folded arms, and masked face—a man, about whose mustached mouth there hovered a peculiar smile, It was Joaquin, Jr.! Rosebud Rob gave vent to a prolonged whistle. as he saw him, and proceeded to make a critical sur- vey of this man, whose presence was so gratuitously vouchsafed. It was one of the Sport’s traits of character never to be surprised at anything. but he could not help being curiously aroused at the coming of the masked stranger. i ¥ elli” he said, after a pause, ‘who are you ?*? “Sorry I haven’t a card!” the other replied, with a second smile. ‘My name, however, is Joaquin!” “What! the famous bandit?” acs The son of the famous bandit—the toll-gate man!” “Ah! yes. I have heard of you.” “Did you ever hear any good of me, Sir Sport?” “None to speak of. They say you gambled away your child!” *Ha! Who says that?” “Oh! Lheard of it down at Hayward, the night the affair occurred, “You were there, then?” “*T was.”’ “Then. maybe, you can tell me what became of my boy?” * Sorry, but Idon’t know.” 7 Something like a moan escaped the Spaniard’s ips. “Probably he is dead. I have never been able to learn a single tiding of him.” “Nor of your wife?” “No! She has never been seen since she left me. You heard the story, then?” “Yes, a dozen times. But to business, my dear sir. You say you are ahead of me, as captain of these men of the secret mine?” “Tam. Iwasa member of Nugget Ned’s band, and after he had departed for the East, I told the bargain he bad made with you to the boys, and was elected to the office of commander.” "ie ** Consequently, should I proceed to act further in this matter—” **You would be silenced /” Rosebud Rob whistled again. Here was another of bis air-castles smashed at the beginning. “Tam not surprised,” he said, with a grimness to his tone. ‘‘Everything I take hold of in a specula- tive way literaily burns my fingers. So it has been with this last case. And now, Mr. Joaquin, what is your business here with me?” “My business is to get possession of that map and destroy it,” the Spaniard cried, suddenly springing toward the table. But the strong gripe of the Sport was at his throat, and he was hurled half-way across the room. “If you will be so kind as ‘to remember the little Scriptural fact, the ap ak belongs to me,” Rosebud Rob said, coolly. ‘When you get possession of it, it will be yours.” “QOurse you!” Joaquin breathed, fiercely. ‘‘ You bie kagel have me for an enemy instead of a friend, then? “Suit yourself, sir. Friends and enemies are two things I regard as they should be regarded—for in- stance: there is an individual stalking somewhere about this town as a living specimen of how I quit accounts with enemies.” “TI think I have seen him, if you refer to the tough called Cross-Eyed Mike,” Joaquin said, *‘‘ You re- fuse to give up the map?” * Most assuredly I do,”
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pf I don't fail ter see whar my haff cums in, Two 20 “Then allow me to bid you good-evening. When we meet again it will be in a different manner, I trust. —— About this same time, three men were seated in the room of Byron Cavendish, putting their heads together in the formation of villainous plans. The work must be done at once,” Cavendish him- self was saying, in a savage tone. “I've got to make my stake and clear out.” *“*Why so? You are not such a coward as to fear that gph Joaquin?” sneered Devere, contemp- tuously. “Tt is not him alone, that I fear, although his hat- red is not to be despised,’’ Cavendish replied. ‘“‘ It is this infernal Irishwoman, who has been following me around, wherever I have gone, for the last week, Curse her!” “*Hal!l ha! ha!” ‘* Well, what are you laughing about? I don’t see anything so funny about it, now.” “ Well, why don’t you marry her?” 4 “Marry the devil!” “No! no! you're already joined to him, But, you see, marry this old lunatic, and make her serve your urposes. After you have done with her. Cross- yed Mike can easily tap her upon the head; and the man from Custer City nodded toward the third man of the party, who, as he had intimated, was the bully, Cross-Eyed Mike. The bully of be l-punch fame sat in one corner upon a stool, and was rather an amusing-looking specimen of humanity. His head and face were nearly covered with stain- ed bandages, which plastered his wounds, only leav- ing his eyes, mouth and chin exposed to view. Every once in awhile he would give vent to a groan of pain and rage, while his huge bony hands would clinch and unclinch in a way that boded no good to the cause of all his suffering and mortification. “ Bf ye want any funerals ’tended to, ye kin bet bars w’at is in ther right speerit fer ther bizness!”’ the giant announced. “You shall work directly at good salary!’ Devere replied. ‘And now. my lord, what do you say to marrying this old Irish vagrant, who styles herself Mrs. Bounce? Of course, it would only be done in the name, and after we've used her, it will be easy to put her out of the way.” “But in what way can we use her?” the baronet demanded, disguste1 with the idea. ‘“BHasy enough. She sits and talks much with the Hermit. Get her to pump out the secret of the cache containing the treasure.” ‘Yes, yes; but will she do this?—and think of the trials [ am to undergo!” gasped Cavendish. “Pshaw! what of that? Will the gold not repa ou for that, and more? Comes, don’t be a fool. ‘ou ars dead broke and I’m depending on you for cash. It’s your only hope of finding out about the treasure.” **And how about the old man and the girl?” “Tl attend to that, The Hermit’s doom is as good as sealed now. I have got on intimate terms with the cook. below, and she is in possession of a vial of Hops one drop of which, placed in the old man’s coffee, when I may see fit to direct, will insure his death within an hour.” “ Devere, you are a villain.” “Not particularly so, my lord, Iam serving you for money. els» I should not plan thus. Half of that treasure which the Hermit has stored away will amply compensate for a little work like this!” ‘*See heer, Cap! Jest hold yer hosses a bit. Ye seem ter be countin’ on half o’ that auriferous?” Gasket grunted, Mispectinghy. “Yes, Half is to be mine.” “Karect. An’ ther Englisher he ar’ countin’ on other half, I calkylate, hain’t he?” ‘“* Certainly.” “Waal, I war thinkin’ thet same, an’ I’m a sinner Idyl, the Girl Miner. ha’ves make a hull, an’ ye kent squeeze anuther sheer in, nohow.” “Ob! as to that, we will pay you a fair sum out of our individual shares after your work is done,” “No ye won't. I kick!” ““ What?” ed kick, like a yearlin’ steer. I bawk likadoro, I ueai!’’ * What do you mean, you fool?” “T illustrated plain enuff, didn’t I? I ain’t doin’ bezness after thet same style, you bet, Oh! no— nary time! I has a third outen thet, or I don’t work a muscle.”” ““Nonsense! Are you crazy,man? Wecan get a dozen to do the work for a drink of tarant’ler.” ‘The ruffian grinned broadly, and winked his cross- eyes knowingly. “Stave ahead, ef ye want to. I've got inter yer plans, an’ I'l] expose ’em all, sure’s I’m ther forty- raph o’ a modern Patience on er monument. Here go!” and he arose as if to depart. “Stop! Sit down!” both men cried in alarm. ‘*You shall have a third, if you serve us faithfully, Now for our plans.” “First, you are to get the Irishwoman over!” said Devere. ‘ All depends upon finding out where the treasure is hidden. I know a fellow up the gulch who once studied for a preacher, but got suspended from the pulpit for stealing an over- coat. He knows all the crooks an’ turns in the pro- seo pi and can splice you so it won't be holding in law.’? * Are you sure?’ Cavendish demanded, dubiously. “Of course. The next thing, this meddlesome Sport must be put out of the way!” “Not by me!” the giant growled, quickly. had my fill 0’ thet sardine.” . “Very well; Ull attend to that, then. The girl is left for you. She must be captured and carried into the mountains. There's an old hut over beyond the west range that would be a capital prison to leave her in.” “Then I’m ter nab her an’ skedaddle at first chance, eh?” the giant asked, an evil glitter in his eyes. “Yes; but mind, you’re to offer her no rudeness or insult.” “ Bet yer pile I'll handle her like I would a baby!” was the reply, as the man rose to leave the room, “Tl lay fer my job ter oncet, and return.” After he had gone, Devere said: “He'll do his part allright, never fear. After we get through with him, it all depends on our gener- osity whether he gets a third of gold or a third of cold lead. Ha! ha! I think the latter would serve pa Ps furthest.” “‘ Hist!’ Cavendish said, in alow tone. “There is a knock at the door.” “The deuce! Who can be coming here at this time of night?” Both listened. Again there came a soft rap, evi- dently that of some person who was timid, “It’s a woman's rap,” Devere whispered. ‘‘ Shall T let her in?” “Yes: we will see what she wants. Perhaps it is the girl, Idyl.’ She’d not come here, for she fights “ Never fear. N atne, te euckachedtie ly opened it, Arising, he approac the door, partly open and peered out fate the dark hallway. 1 A muffled figure pushed forward past him into the room—the figure of a woman, evidently, enveloped in a long, hooded cloak, with a thick vail tied down over her face, which served the purpose of a mask to her identity. “Excuse me, pray!’ a low, musical voice ex claimed, ‘* but I came here in the hope of finding a man whom I wish to see.” “Ah. lady! be seated!’ Devere said, setting a chair forward for her to pay ‘*Perhaps I or my com- panion may be able to fill out the bill.” “Ts his name Cavendish?” the woman demanded, “Tve
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ae | Idyl, the Girl Miner. 21 pointing toward his lordship, who started strangely, an apprehensive pallor coming upon his florid coun- tenance, “T have the honor of being Lord Byron Cavendish, my lady,” he said, with a profound bow. “Then you are the man I seek. Ihave come for my child!” and throwing aside her vail, Berenice Muriete stood erect, with resolute face and flashing eyes. Cavendish hissed a curse through his teeth, but a warning glance from Devere caused him to check his anger. “You, madame? Who areyou, pray?” “Why ask that question?” the mother cried, vehe- mently, ‘‘ when you know full well that I am the wife of the reckless fool whom you robbed of his child at the gaming-table, in Hayward? I am Berenice, Joa- uin’s wife, and I have come for my little son—my et. Do you hear? Ihave come either to possess myself of him, or to take your worth'ess life. You are two to one, but I can murder you both. A frantic mother knows no barrier between herself and child!” CHAPTER IX. “r0-MORROW NIGHT AT MIDNIGHT —THE MARRIAGE. *“ Forts take the woman!’’ Cavendish gasped. “She is mad!”’ *“*No, she is perfectly sane,’’ Devere replied, a sin- ister smile illuminating his face, “I'll vouch for that. It is her motherly eagerness to again get pos- session of her child which causes her agitation. I am almost positive we can strike a bargain. The child is alive yet, my lord, is it not?” “Tt was, at Jast accounts,’ the English schemer replied, catching his coadjutor’s eye. ‘But was so securely hidden away that this wo- man could not find it, were she to search a life- time?” ‘**Bxactly.” “Tt is well. In order to obtain her child, she must work for us, you see—must be our slave, to serve us in whatever way we may choose.” “Sir / Berenice gasped, stepping back a pace. “What vile plot would you instigate now? I'll never lift a finger to serve you!” “Then by heaven! I swear that your child shall die before another day is ended, madam!” Caven- dish cried, triumphantly. “I never knew how I was going to turn the brat to account hardly, but I see clearly enough now. You shall work for us, or my own hands shall feed him to the mountain wolves!” A deathly faintness seized Berenice, and she reel- ed back with a gasp and a lowery, as she heard the threat of the unprincipled villain. She sunk upon the chair, her eyes fixed upon the baronet, in a gaze that caused him to shift uneasily in his seat, “ You feed my child to the mountain wolves, you monster!”’ she breathed, as if she could not believe that she had heard him utter the words aright. **You feed my innocent babe to the ravenous wild beasts, if I refuse to do your bidding!” “Precisely, madame. One, in this world in which we live, is forced to look out for his own ends at the expense of his next neighbor, Iam sadly in need of alittle help, such as you might be able to tender me. "Tis nothing so terrible that you need shrink from doing it. Your love for your boy ought to be strong enough that you would fight through fire and blood to regain possession of him!” “Go on!” she gasped, her hands clinching and bosom rising and falling heavily. “Go on—'ell me what I would have to do to get back my child!” “Certainly, madame, To begin with, let me as- sure you that we are an unprincipled, unscrupulous pair of knaves, even though it so happens that I am an English lord. “This fact, however, need make no material dif- ference as to our dealings with you. If you serve us faithfully you shall have your child back. rest as: sured, Now, the case we have in hand is this, There is an old man named Jason Abbey, who lives in the lower part of this building, that has accumulated an immense fortune, and secreted it where no one can find it. We want it, and it is to be your business to find out whereitis cached. This you can gasily do, and report to us.” ‘** And you will give me back m boy, if I do this?” the wife of Joaquin demanded, hae hands clasping and her eyes glittering wildly with anticipation. ‘You will give me back my darling and let me go?” “ind out for certain where the hidden cache is, and silence forever the old Hermit—which job can be easily done—and you shall have your boy and fifty dollars. Do you accept?” “ Murder!’ Berenice gasped; ‘foul murder! Oh! no, sir. God help me! I cannot do that—I cannot—I cannot do that!” ‘* Very well; that settles it!’ Cavendish said, aris- ing haughtily. ‘There is no use for further parley. Devere, show the woman the door!” “Oh! sir—my child! my precious, darling boy !— you will not—oh! you will not harm bim!”’ “ You heard me say what I would do, madam, De- vere, put her out, { say!” “Stop!” Berenice’s voice rung out in a flercely pitiful tone—‘‘ stop! I will do your will rather than that my innocent babe shall die. May God in hea- ven forgive me for this weakness, but I cannot help it—oh! I eannot help it!” And the poor woman broke down utterly, and sobbed as if her heart were breaking. The two schemers gazed at her a_ moment in silence; then Devere advanced and laid his hand up- on her shoulder. “Pray do not give way to Jamentations, dear lady. Your work is not so terrible, after all, when you consider the future prospect of reunion with your child.” She hurled him back, with a wild gasp, an awful glare in her black eyes. “Do not touch me, you demon in the shape of man!” she eried, ‘do not lay a finger’s weight up- onme, You have pushed meas far as you can. I will do what you have said, no more. And, God help you, if I do not then get’ back my child, I will teas your heart out. I will rend you limb from mb. “Never fear; we shall do our share of the com- pact, if you do yours!” Byron Cavendish said, eagerly. *‘I will see that the child is ready for de- livery when your work is done!” “Tt need take but little time for my work. then, and you can send at once for my child. I have but to do murder, for I alveady know where the gold of Old Hk, te Hermit, is secreted |” ‘ “What!” the two men exclaimed, quickly, while iper started toward her, with a greedy gleam in eir eyes. ‘* Ay! IL know where the gold is secreted!” Bere- nice cried, waving them back. ‘ Taccidentally found out, a few days since, you villains!” “Then you shaljl tell us where it is now, or we will murder you!’’.Cayvendish hissed, with devilish triumph, and he drew a revolver from his pocket, as he spoke. F “We are alone, and you are completely in our power. You shall tell us now, and while we aré in search of the treasure, you can finish up eur job!” “That is it exactly !’’ Devere added. ‘‘ Not a min- ute is to be lost. Give us the secret at once.” A crafty, a eae smile flitted to the pale lips of Berenice Muriete, and transformed her, as it were, into an avenging Nemesis. “Not one syllable of that secret shall leave m lips now!’ she said, solemnly. **I shall go on wit my work. The old Hermit shall die, and then I am the only living being that can point out the loca- tion of the secret cache. “Tt will be my hour of triumph then. I will hold the secret, and you shall first deliver up my child, ere you are Jet into it. Ha! ha!” “Stop! You shall never leave this room alive, woman, unless you disgorge now!’’ Devere cried savagely, ‘It’s either death to you, or gold to us,’
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22 “Kill me if you choose. Iam strong now, where Iwas weak a few moments ago. With me perishes pale only hope of getting that fortune, for well you now that Jason Abbey would never reveal the secret, even to save his own child.” The two schemers were staggered. They knew that she was right—that it all remain- ed with her, whether or not they were to get the ‘olden gain for which they had plotted so thorough- ly. Their exchange of glances seemed a signal be- tween them that it was best for their plans to trust all to her, “You will, then, as l understand it, kill the Hermit, and upon the delivery of the boy, yield up the secret of the buried treasure?” Cavendish said. “Twill!” “Very well, A woman’s word should be sufficient. When will you strike?” “To-morrow night, at the midnight hour; meet me in the gulch; I shall be ready then!”’ So much she saic, after which she turned and left the room, no attempt being made by the men to hinder, A dark figure cautiously preceded her down the stairway, and out into the gulch, which was fuil of shadows and might have screened a host of ene- mies, With hasty steps Berenice hurried along, until, when she was some distance from any habitation, a heavy hand was laid upon her shoulder, and she was brought to a standstill. z Before her was the figure of a man, with flowing hair and masked face. attired as a ranger. She could not scream; a deathly faintness seized her, and she reeled in her tracks, for the dark, ter- uble, eves that met here were those of Joaquin Muri- ete | “"Sh!” he said, in a tone that she knew meant command, ‘Make no violent demonstrations. I mean you no harm; I merely want to speak with ou. “Well?” she gasped, shrinking out of his grasp, her tone cold, calm, deliberate. ‘'I am listening.’ “Oh, Berenice! do not speak to me in that way, for it tears open the wound in my heart afresh. My wife, I have been haunting your footsteps to ask you this once, in the favor of a true and just God, to come back to me as a wife. Do not say no. Leave off this search for your child—leave it to me to find and restore our darling to your arms Oh! for the love of our Father, my wife, do not say no—do not say no!” and convulsed with emotion, the strong man eopned on his knees before her, and raised his eyes supplicatingly. “Arise!” Berenice said, not one touch of pity in her tone—not one sign of relenting. ‘I will never live with you until our little son is found. I have sworn to this—I willkeep my word. Go! Ourpaths in life diverge here!” “Stay! I would speak one word ere we separate. This time, Berenice, I feel that it will be forever, Something is constantly whispering in my ears the sentence, ‘Make thy peace.’ Oh, my wife! it is this which tells me that we are looking for the last time upon each other’s faces—that never again shall we speak together, until after death shall have joined us in the other world. Berenice, shall we part in anger? Oh, no! God forbid that such a thing should be! But touch my hand with yours, and say you forgive me—then I will let you go!” The tones of the man were now too pitifully thrill- ing for the wife to ‘withstand. She hesitated but a moment; then approaching him threw her arms about his neck, and covered his lips and forehead with burning kisses. “Joaquin, my husband, I do forgive you, as I hope God may forgive us both!’ she murmured, * Warewell—”’ She did not finish the sentence, but staggered from his embrace, only to fall in a swoon at his feet. “Poor Berenice!”’ he said, hoarsely, as he knelt by her side, ‘‘It wag cruel in me to cause her this | len, uneasy expression, Idyl, the Girl Miner. pain and emotion, but I could not give her up with- out her forgiveness. Oh! how I deserve her scorn and eontempt! how I merit this desertion, as man never merited it before! God bless you, my dar- ling! I mustleave younow. I must not tarry, when other work calls me elsewhere.” He fixed her head so that she would lie easy; then bending, he imprinted a last clinging kiss upon the cold, irresponsive lips, after which he arose to his feet and strode away from the spot, a different man than he had been a short time before; for now his step was firm, his courage strong. “Tt was a long while ere Berenice awoke from her swoon, but it was to almost instant comprehension of what had occurred and her surroundings, ‘Joaquin has gone!” she moaned. ‘May God watch over him, for I, too, fear we shall never meet again!’ After the night, came the day. The sun arose from behind the gigantic crags, and looked down as smiling into Cascade Gulch, as though nothing of villainy had ever entered there. The air was fragrant and balmy; the dreamy In- dian summer haze hung over the ridges; the sounds of nature droning, too, such soft, sweet music as would almost lull a person into sleep, About noon, Rosebud Rob, while sauntering south- sere through the valley, came unexpectedly upon dyl. She was seated in under the shade of a large cot- tonwood tree, which grew upon the banks of the rushing stream, engaged in 5 ee from a novel which she had borrowed of Sir Tom Somerset, some days previous. She was half-reclining, with her head pillowed up- on one hand and supported by her elbow, while her wavy, silken hair blew about in confusion, as it was lifted by the gentle breeze. She did not notice the Sport’s arrival, until he had been gazing admiringly down upon her for some moments. Then, she flushed searlet, and assumed a more dignified posture. “Well! well!’ Rosebud Rob exclaimed, in his laughing, easy way, ‘what is the meaning of this? Has the eee really taken a holiday, all by her- self, and laid the pan and shovel aside?” “Yes, Mr. Mapleton. I anrsure I ought to havea holiday once in a while.” _True enough. Not one young lady out of a pos- sible hundred, average them the world over, would think they could labor as you do, and at the same time be as cheerful, So you prefer the quiet, and the companionship of a book, eh?” “Yes, especially on sucha day. Won’t you join me in my solitary picnic, Mr. Mapleton? See! I have a lunch, and some reading.” “Nothing would please me better, Miss Idyl, but, you see, I’ve got wind of a little circus, down the’ gulch, here, and I’ve got to be present,” “A circus, sir?” “Yes—that is, it will amount to about the same thing, inthe end. There will be some pantomime, a little fun, and possibly some tumbling.” “T must confess that I don’t understand you, sir.” ‘And Iam sorry that I cannot give you any fur- ther information,” the Sport replied, gayly. ‘ Good- day! I wish you a happy time.” Then he was off, his quick elastic stride soon tak- ing him out of sight, among the crowds of miners that filled the gulch. In a cabin, some distance south of the hermitage, we will next meet the reader, The place is newly-built, with the rude simplicity of the frontier, and is untenanted, save by two men, who stand facing each other, in one of the unfur- nished rooms, They were the two plotters, Devere and Lord Cay- endish, av.1 upon the face of the latter was a suly
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Idyl, the Girl Miner. 23 “JY don’t fancy this business in the least!’ he rowled, savagely. “‘The idea of my marrying hat Irish vagrant is perfectly preposterous. ‘‘Sup- osing wind of such a thing should get back to Eng- and, which is not unlikely, as my companion du voy- age, Somerset, is in this very town? There’d be a high old rupture then in my social position—curse it!” “Pshaw! I’ve told you a dozen times that it would be allright. And it is imperative that you should get her over on our side.” ,. ‘And why imperative?” “*T will tell you. Several times I have discovered that woman listening at our door, which causes me to believe that she may have found out some of our plans, As her mania seems to be for getting mar- ried, once you get her under your wing as a wife you can easily manage it.” “Curse her! But there must be no mistake in this matter. I am not to be legally bound to her!” “Of course not. Weslyn, who will be here pre- sently, isno authorized preacher, so that though you may be wedded in the regular style, it will not be holding. They ought to be here now.” “Se ms to me you are mighty anxious to get me into this scrape,” his lordship asseverated, ‘*So Lam, for all depends on getting that woman over, o-night, remember, our work begins.” At this juncture the door opened, and into the room bounded the eccentric Mrs. G. W. Bounce, with a screech of delight, followed by a smooth-faced gentleman, in black garb, who possessed a very clerical aspect. ‘Och! me own honey! me darlint, entirely!” Mrs. Bounce cried, as she espied Lord Cavendish, and rushed into his embrace, giving him a regular grizzly hug. ‘ Och! me shamrock, I’ve come to yez, wida heart overflowing wid swate love. Divil a bit do 1 eare now fer thet spalpeen who ran off wid me money. for it’s mesilf that has found a jewel phat shines resplindant, bedad!” “Tang it, woman, release me!’ Cavendish growl- ed, struggling to get away, but to no purpose, for Mrs. G. W. B. hung on pertinaciously. ‘‘ Confound you, Devere, will you stand there and permit this— this accursed nonsense?” “ Nonsinse, d’ye eall it?” roared Mrs. Bounce, her voice now pitched toa high key—‘nonsinse, is it? Oh! no, me darlint, et’s the privileges av a swate- h’art, ontirely, to hug her bowld laddy, so it is, so it is.” ‘Release him. Mrs. Bounce,” said Devere. ‘‘ The Reverend Mr. Weslyn has arrived, and will marry you to Lord Cavendish, after which he will take you tot'e hotel, where you will have a happy time, all by yourselves, with no one to interrupt you.” ‘Shure. an’ how do yez do, Mr. Weslyn?” the bride-prospective cried. leaving Cavendish to bounce into the arms of the minister. ‘‘ Och! wurra, an’ be it yersilf that is goin’ to bind me darlint closely to my heart, forever?” “T believe I am fo officiate in that. capacity, mad- am,” Weslyn replied, shaking off Mrs. B., not tco gently. In the mean time Devere had found chance to whisper to his lordship: “Brace up, old boy! Don’t be scared, but take all with the resignation of a saint. When the knot is tied, you can take your brite to the hotel, where I will join you later. for work.” Cavendish shuddered, and muttered a disgusted protest. 2 It was a positive torture to him. “Are the parties both ready?” the Reverend Mr. Weslyn ventured to ask. } “Both ready.” Devere replied. ‘‘Mr. Weslyn, I make you acquainted with Lord Byron Cavendish, of England. This Hibernian lady is to be his bride.” ft ‘“‘Arrah! an’ it’s true fer yez, whin ye say them same!” Mrs..G. W. B. cried, bounding forward, and thrusting her large bony hand into that of his lord- ship. ‘Marry us now, yer honer, and it’s a swate ould smack ye shell hev from the bride, bedad!”” It is to be inferred that the clerical Weslyn had no desires in this direction, any more than had Caven- dish, whose hand was suffering untold pain in the grasp of the prospective bride. Devere stood back at a safe distance, convulsed with repressed laughter. The reverend gentleman now produced a book from in under his arm, and in solemn tones began to read a marriage service. Cavendish was quaking and trembling in every limb, while his bride stood squarely erect, with a stolid expression of countenance, which was com- placency personified. At last. the ceremony was concluded, and Weslyn handed Mrs Cavendish a certificate, which he had CHAPTER X. LEGALLY BOUND—JOAQUIN’S BLOW—CAPTURED. A FRIGHTFUL curse escaped Cavendish as his gaze fell upon the Sport. **How came this devil here, Devere?”’ he demand- ed, hoarsely. “That Iam unable to tell you, my lord. Isup- posed the cabin untenanted.” “And got very much fool-ed, as a natural conse- uence!” Rosebud replied, with a chuckle. ‘‘ Mrs. sneral George Washington Cavendish, allow me to offer my congratulations, and at the same time square up a debt, You know I promised you a hun- dred dollars, providing you succeeded in wedding this aristocratic British blacklez!’ and with a bow, = = a couple of fifty-dollar gold-pieces in her ands. **Och! shure an’it’s a moighty foine gintlemen yez be, Mr. Rosebud; but divil a candle can the loikes of yez hold to my swate shamrock be me side!”’ Cavendish wheeled tpon Devere, with a gasp, his face as white as death. “What—what does this mean, Devere? I have been fooled—tricked into a marriage with this wo- man—this Irish vagrant!’ _ “Oh! wurra! wurra! d’ye mind what he says?” Mrs. G. G. W. B, Cavendish cried, indignantly. and clinging firmly to her new spouse. she gave him a couple of severe cuffs in the region of his ears. ““D'ye moind how the spalpeen calls his bride an Trish vagrant, now? Och! bad luck to yez, old man! It’s mesilf that will have to break yez in to the double harness, tha same as poor Mike Maloney used to break in the mules.- Arrah! me darlint, it’s many’s tha time that I'll black the eyes of you, an’ pull out the Galway sluggins that grow forninst the face of yez. No! yez con't, bedad!” as Cavendish struggled frantically to get free. ‘It’s Mrs. Gineral George Washington Cavendish as is good at bangin’ on, an’ by the same glost av Patrick McHenry, I'll niver part wid yez, me swate darlint, from mornin’ ’till night.” And, as if to enforce her words. the new bride forcibly threw her arms about his lordship’s neck, and nearly smothered him with kisses. “Help! Take this she-cat off, somebody!” he roared, lustily. ‘‘ Kill her—do anything to rid me of her, Devere, curse you, you are the cause of all this trouble!" “Hold up, British!’? Rosebud Rob cried, at this juncture; ‘‘ don’t lay it all on your partner-in-crime, but give me credit for a lion’s share. Devere had arranged that you should be wedded by an illegal minister, but I willed otherwise !"’ “ What? what?” Cavendish almost yelled—“and this mane"? . 7
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24 Idyl, the Girl Miner. ‘Tg the Reverend Oalkins Smithson, a regularly or- dained minister of the gospel!’ the Sport replied, triumphantly, ‘‘and, consequently, you are legally wedded to Mrs. Bounce—now Mrs. Lord Cavendish. Ha! ha! ha!’’ The Englishman uttered a nondescript sound, be- tween a gasp anda groan, and would have fallen a not the stout arms of Lady Cavendish supporte: ‘im, “This is a damnable plot to ruin me!” he articu- lated, hoarsely. **Tt’s an imposition—a cheat!’’ interposed Devere. “T see, now, that this manis not Weslyn, although the resemblance would deceive almost any person.” “Tam the Reverend Calkins Smithson!’' the recent knot-tyer said, removing his hat. ** Learning through the so-called Sport, of this villainy about to be prac- ticed upon an unsuspecting woman, I readily con- sented to counterplot, and make the union a unionin law and fact. As I am an ordained and licensed minister of the gospel, the marriage between Lord Byron Cavendish and the Irish lady is perfectly legal, and binding.” “*Arrah, me darlint! me shamrock!’ Lady C. said, giving her spouse another desperate hug. ‘It’s me- self that will stick by ye! till tha day of doom!” “Lord Cavendish,” said Rosebud Rob, calmly. “you may as weil make the bast of a bad job, and take your bride to the hotel. Tais is no place to de- tain a newly-married woman, whose romantic heart craves to be alone with you, that she may manifest more of her unselfish affection. I tender you my congratulations, wish you much joy, and go on in advance of you, Smithson, will you join me?” And, with bows, the two men left the cabin, and from the door Devere watched them saunter away. He then turned back toward Cavendish, whostood pale and irresolute, “Tt has been a bad ending,” he said, ‘‘ but all the same, I am sure we have got Mrs. C. enlisted in our interests. Take her to the hotel and explain our plans, my lord, and Pll guarantee she'll serve us a good turn yet.” And then, he too, took his departure, and nothing was left but for the Englishman to do as advised. though it cut his pride as it had never been stabbed before. Many were the curious and amused glances that were leveled at him as he went through the valley with the new Lady Cavendish clinging to his arm, while behind her trailed the enormous train of her huge-figured calico dress. And though his lordship tried his best to avoid meeting any more of the miners than possible, he was horror-struck to find a swarm of them gathered about the door of Mrs. Matrevis’s establishment, among whom he recognized Rosebud Rob, Idyl, and Sir Tom Somerset, in conspicuous positions. A sparkle of mischief entered the Sport’s eyes as he saw them approachiny, and fixing his gaze tri- aco eae upon the Englishman, he cried: “Hyar they cum, pilgrims—the new Lord an’ Lady Cavendish. What d'ye say, now? Git ready —three cheers for the bride!” And three loud, long yells were given, such as had ne’er before echoed through that valley, and they caused Cavendish’s face to redden like a turkey’s comb, while Mrs. C. rather seemed to enjoy it. “Good fer yez, me b’yees!’’ she cried, in her oP raspiag tone. ‘‘ Bad luck to yez, too, fer ye can’t hey the refusal at mesilf now, at all! It’s the true darlint of a real lord that I am now ontirely, bedad!” _ Another yell, then the ill-assorted couple had van- ished within the hotel. “There! what do you think aboutit, now? Doyou envy Mrs. C. her choice?’ Rosebud Rob cried, turn- ing to Idyl. ‘Oh! no! indeed! I rather think she has got the worst of the bargain.” ; , "Don’t fool yourself, there, She will make his lordship toe the mark, every time. Somerset, I would epesk with you.” And the two young}men sauntered away. When they were out of ear-shot, the Sport stopped short, and faced the baronet with a keen gaze. - “T have come here to ask you a few questions!" he said, in his brisk way. ‘‘I want to know how you are getting along with our pretty girl miner?’ Somerset smiled, faintly, “A very good way to hit mea stab, that!” he re- plied, ‘‘ when you are doubtless aware that I am not getting along at all.” “Don’t misconstrue my motives,” Rosebud Rob replied, soberly. ‘Ido not wish to oppose your suit, but propose to further it, having come to the con- clusion that you are a square sort of pilgrim, and just the fellow to chaperon the girl through life.” “ But is it not impossible for me to win her, when she is pleas. fascinated with you?” “Pshaw! no. You see, I've a peculiar tact for managing these women, who are eternally and for- ever falling in love with me. If my flashy appear- ance is the captor of so many feminine hearts, it is but natural that I, a man to suit all circumstances, should have a remedy for the evil. Now, then, I believe, that, if Miss Idyl could be disgusted with me, she would turn to you, and you could win her, Therefore, here is a letter, for the pe. You note that it is directed in a feminine hand, and that it comes from Deadwood. Well, inside, is a clever] executed forgery, purporting to come from an af- fectionate wife of mine, who Epcot of our family, and asks me to come back to her children and her- self, at once, ete., etc. Now, supposing Miss Idyl were to pick this up, and read it—do you believe she would want anything more to do with that sportive individual they call Rosebud Rob?” “But this would be cruel deception, if the girl really cares for you!” ““Humph! all’s fairin love or war. Iregard Miss Idyl as an estimable young lady, but as I’ve no no- tion of incumbering myself with feminine responsi- bilities, for some time to come, why, I say to you— sail in and win!’ “ And you really propose this scheme in my be- half?” Sir Tom cried, thrusting out his hand, warmly. “T do, believing you will take good care of Idy], if you get her,” “Rest assured on that. And I feel almost sure that I can win her now.” “‘ Well, I wish you success, There goes Miss Idyl out toward her claim, now. I will cut across, and drop the letter as I passalong, where she will be sure to find it.” And giving Sir Tom’s hand a grip of assurance, the Sport was off across the gulch, whistling merrily, while Sir Tom sauntered back toward the hotel, Rosebud Rob was as good as his word. He passed through Idyl’s claim in advance of her and dropped the letter, after which he hurried on toward a grocery store, which he entered, and as a pretext, purchased a few matches. Idyl came to her claim, and was about to gather up her mining implements for the night, when she espied the envelope, and picked ‘t up, curiously, ‘**Rosebud Rob,” she muttered as she gazed at the writing, ‘‘and in a lady’s hand, too! He must have aropped it when he passed. I will keep it and give it to him to-night.” She gathered up her ‘‘ tools,” and locked them ina lank shanty close at hand, and then wandered, off toward the cottonwood tree on the bank of the stream. Here she seated herself upon the grass, and taking the envelope from her pocket. gazed at the directions a few moments, thoughtfully. “‘T wonder what lady corresponds with him?” she murmured, turning the envelope over and over, “Would it be any harm for me to read this?” Curiosity and sight are the ministers of tempta- tion; the more you see, the greater the curiosity to see more, and it amounts in the endtoa capitulation of reason and conscience,
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Anyhow, the first she knew, Idyl had the letter spread out upon her lap, and an expression of won- der and snp crept upon her face as she perused it. It had been written some months before, and ran as follows:— “Dearest HUSBAND: “T write to let you know that I am well, and hope you are the same. Jimmy, our youngest, hes just recovered from a severe attack of the measles; but Harry, Bobby, Dicky, Sammy and Thomas Jeffer- son, our other cherubs, are well and hearty. Dear husband, I long for you to return home, and—” Idy] did not read any further. She was Ea satisfied with the revelation which had dawned upon her. ‘Mr. Mapleton is married,” she said, her face sud- denly growing pale, ‘‘and he never told me of it! I am now so glad that nothing but words of friendship ever passed between us, for, certainly, no good could have come of it,”’ Ashort while afterward Rosebud Rob entered the saloon of Mrs, Matrevis’s establishment, and search- ing about soon signaled Baltimore Bess, who was sitting in one corner, quite alone. wee nodded as he approached, in her cool, noncha- nt way. pe: Well, they say there’s bin a weddin’ hyerabouts,” she observed. “Yes; I have succeeded in marrying. the Hiberni- an off to the Britisher. But, now, I have other busi- ness. Bess, old girl, how much are you good for?” ; A peculiar smile flitted upon the dare-devil girl’s ‘ace. “*)’'m ginerally gauged as bein’ death fer sumwhar *twixt twelve an’ twenty toughs or a brace o’ cinna- mons, when et cums ter squar’ work,” she replied, with a smile. ‘“ Leastwise, thar’s them as sez I'm purty nigh boss on shootin’.” ‘Which is all the better for my purpose. As soon as it comes dark, I want you to meet me over on the western side of the creek, prepared for an excursion into the wilderness, if necessary. Will you come?” “Well, now. Ishouldn’t wonder if I mought, ef thar’s goin’ to be any fun afloat.” “Never fear. There'll be plenty of it, without doubt.” Then they separated. Just at dusk the usual evening stage came lumber- ing into the town, but it fetched not its customary load of passengers, nor were there the usual smiles upon the face of Jake Johnson, the veteran Jehu. One of his horses was limping badly, and the coach had evidently been used for a target for rifle-prac- tice, as it was full of holes and cracks. And when Jake threw down the lines and leaped from his seat, he swore a good-sized oath that he never would drive ‘‘the shebang ” again. i A curious crowd gathered at once, and after being duly urged, Jake finally consented to give his late experience, which must have been pretty hard, judging from appearances. “Ye see how et war,” he began, blowing his nose vigorously, ‘1 war fetchin’ in a mighty big load o’ speculators from Deadwood, an’ most o’’em war purty well heeled, at that. An’ w’en we got along at oaquin’s place, ther road war blocked wi’ a passel o’ masked galoots, who war armed an’ ready fer fight. When I fetched up ther stage ter a stand-still, as I generally do at thet pint o’ ther cumpuss, Joa- quin hisself, he steps forth, and demands toll—a hundred dollars fer each an’ every galoot, myself excepted. Did they kick? Wal. now, you kin jest bet they did thet same! Wouldn’t pay it, said every man, an’ Joaquin sed they'd haff to turn back an’ go by some other route ter Cascade City, ef they didn’t slap down the cash. Then thar war an’ attempt ter argy, when thet Joaquin he wouldn’t argy wu’th a contynental copper. ‘Well, ther long an’ short o’ et war, b’yees, that a Idyl, the Girl Miner. pilgrim finally pulled a ‘barker’ an’ let drive at Joa- quin hisself, an’ then ther music begun. Them road-agents they jest opened upon thet coach wi their repeatin’ rifles in a way ’twould make yer hair stand upon eend. They jest riddled thet old shell, an’ ef I didn’t leap clean frum ther stage seat below to ther bottom 0’ a precipice, ye ken call me a liar. Arter aw’ile I heerd a cessation in ther shutin’, an’ creepin’ ter ther road around ther bend, I found the stage and hosses, an’ kim on. An’ may I be tee- totally cussed fer er turkey-buzzard ef I evyer drive that stage ag’in!” “Was the man Joaquin killed?” asked one of the erowd. “Nary a time. Ther bullet nevyer made him nes though Iked sw’ar et struck him over ther eart. But what do you suppose became of the passen- gers? ‘“‘Reckon some 0’ *em war salted away inter eter- nity, an’ mebbe some escaped or war captured!” A strong crowd had gathered by this time, and a proposal made to the effect that a band should be organized to hunt the road-pests out of their den was greeted with tumultuous applause. According- ly some three-score of volunteers were chosen, and after arming themselves, set out on foot for the toll- gate through the shadows of the falling night. 1 They. were headed by a fellow by the name of Bal- antyne. A brave man he was, who was never known to shirk at the appre of danger, and consequently his followers felt less apprehension in going to bat- tle with one of Joaquin’s type, backed as he was by as reckless a set of men as ever roamed the moun- tains. On_arriving at the spot where the toll-gate had stood, they found it asmoldering bed of coals, as ae as the building which had stood in the rear of it. ; And nowhere were to be seen the Junior Joaquin and his maskec followers. They had disappeared in the night, but whither they had gone wasa mystery. No tracks were dis- covered leaving the place; the road-agents and their leader had literally stepped out of sight, asif the world had opened up and swallowed them. A few dead bodies were found close by, and upon = of them were pinned a paper, containing these words: “This is not the end! A good beginning will make a bad ending—for the enemies of “ Joaquin, JR.” While these citizens of Cascade City were looking after the man Joaquin, there were shadows hovering about their own valley, which boded evil to certain ones. One of these shadows turned out to be the’ giant, Cross-Eyed Mike Gasket. The ruffian was skulking about with uncommon stealth, fora man of his size, and that he was all ready for some piece of villainy was evident, for he was fully armed, and a horse lay crouching in the aes but afew yards away, just out of the main trail. As he stood in the dense pall of gloom, and gazed about him, he listened with greedy zest for some sound for which he was waiting. 3 In either direction, surrounding him, the lights from the various tents and shanties streamed out with brilliancy. but could not touch him, as he was sheltered by the mantle of night. “Ther gal went up ter ther grocery store!” the giant muttered, peering expectantly to the south; “an’T reckon sbe must be comin’ back now, purty quick. . ‘Ho! ho! won’t she be surprised to find me hyar, waitin’ fer her?—me, ther great illustrious patentee of ther celebrated bell-punch! Guess she’ll be purty nigh awed inter silence, w’en she gazes at me.’ And he chuckled, in anticipation of the affright
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poor Idyl must experience when she should find her- self in his clutches. With great patience he waited. He knew that she must pass in that direction, on a return, and he meant to capture her as she came along. And he was not disappointed! Soon his sharp sense of hearing caught the sound of Sep rea cntne footsteps, and drawing a large blanket from his shoulders, he crouched and waited. Nearer and nearer came the unsuspecting victim —then, she saw a shadow dart in front of her, but ere she could utter a cry of alarm, a heavy blanket was thrown over her shoulders, and she was caught up, bodily, in a strong pair of arms. She struggled violently, but all to no avail. She was in a clasp of iron, and being borne swiftly away —at first on foot, but now ona horse! CHAPTER XI. THE MOON-TIDE—HUNTING THE HERMIT. Aman had been following not far behind Idyl, at the time of her capture, and hearing the struggle, rushed forward, but just ia time to hear the night prowler dashing away on horseback. “T wonder what was the matter?’’ hs muttered, pausing to listen, Ths horseman was dashing west- ward across the valley. “Could it have been that fellow. Joaquin? Ialmost wish Pd given him that map, foritisn’ta pleasant thing to have an enemy after his particular pattern.” And Rosebud Rob—for it was he, hurried on, lifitle thinking that the retreating horseman was carrying away the girl miner But, he was speedily aroused from his thoughts of Joaquin, by coming in heavy collision with some individual who was hurrying through the dark- ness in a direction opposite to that in which he was going. Asa natural consequence, both 1nen were down, in a style not the most graceful. “ Confound your clumsy careass!” the Sport ejacu- lated, rising to a sitting posture, * what do you mean by telescoping a fellow in that way, without warning?” “Hal I recogniza your voice. You are Rosebud Rob!” the other exclaimed, eagerly. ‘‘Is itnot so?” “T reckon ye might know by the perfume that ex- hales from my buttonhole bouquet,” the Sport re- plied. “ Who are you?’ “Tom Somerset. I have been searching for you. ' Where is Idyl?” , Ay Idon't know. Why? Is she not at the Hermi- axe? “No, She started for the grocery some time ago, and becoming alarmed at her absence, I have come in search of her.” Rosebud Rob gave vent to a prolonged whistle, in- dicative more of comprehension than surprise. ‘“* Are you sure she didn’t pass you as you came?” he asked. “Perfectly sure. I kept watch on either hand, and paused to listen at every few steps.” “Then she’s a goner, sure. I saw a female come out of fhe grocery and come down this way, but it didn’t occur to me about its being Idyl. A few min- utes ago [heard sounds as if a struggle were tak- ing place, and got here just in time to hear a horse- man dashing away. So betwixt me and you, I reckon the Angel 0’ the Gulch has been kerried off!” Sir Tom g oaned aloud. fi By whom? What shall we do?” he asked, excit- edly. “The best ene 20 you to do,” the Sport observ- ed, shoving his hands thoughtfully down into his breeches pockets—* the best thing for you to do, is —well, let me see! —to sailin and rescue her. There’s a noble ane of territory now for you to embrace and prove that you're really worthy of the little gal. What a grand chance offers for you to fly like a knight of chivalry to her rescue, and become a he- roic Apollo in her eyes. If 1 were a candidate for Idyl, the Girl Miner. the matrimonial office, I’d lose no time in hastening on the trail of mine foes that I might smite them! Oh, no! you bet!” “But—but look at the difficulties that must be overcome, the dangers that must be met, if a fellow were to attempt pursuit,” Sir Tom said, wincing, and inwardly wishing he possessed half the cooJness of the Sport. ‘“ All Ive got to say is, overcome and mest them, sir. If you don’t you'll never win the girl miner, and you'll never become a man to suit all circum- stances, like myself. Ha! ha! ha!” And then, the Sport walked away, leaving Sir Tom to reflect upon the advice he bad just received. The young baronet was not wanting for pluck, and it did not take him many minutes to decide that he should accept the tendered advice. “Tl get mea horse, and go after Miss Idyl,” he said. ‘That Rosebud chap has an idea that I am not of apy great account, and I'll endeavor to change his mind.” And without delay he started through the gulch, toward a stable where he kept bis own trusty horse. In the meantime, Rosebud Rob, in going in an op- posite direction, met with an adventure, which was at the same time unexpected and uninteresting to him, inasmuch as he had work which demanded his immediate attention. He was suddenly pounced upon by a couple of men who sprung out of the cover of the night, and before he could defend himself, was borne to the ground, and seeurely bound. Under ordinary cir- cumstances, two men would have been severely taxed to accomplish this feat with the Sport as a victim; but, it being a complete surprise, they had it all their own way. Not only did they bind him, but they bandaged his mouth so that he could not speak. Then, seizing him, they dragged him aside several rods from the main trail, where they paused. Devere then removed the bandage, but pressed a pistol muzzle significantly to the prisoner’s temple, to enjoin silence. “So we've got you, eh?” he said, grimly. “TI thought we would. Surprise generally catches the best fish,” “Yes, soitseems. Five to one you couldn’t have taken me fairly!’ Rosebud Rob replied. ‘* Perhaps you will be so kind as to nominate your objective point in takiag me thus a prisoner.” “Guess it wouldn’t be no hard job to tell you that,”” Devere answered. ‘My pardner, here, Lord Cavendish and I, have come to the conclusioz that you know entirely too much—ar’ much too clever for our liking, and we have concluded to drown you in the creek here, and rid the mines of at least one nuisance. Ain’t that se, my lord?” “That's it, precisely!’ Cavendish responded. sav- agely. ‘* We'll see if you'll come any of your jokes after you are made food for the fishes. I wager you won’t!”’ “Don’t wager on uncertainties, my lord!” the Sport warned, with a laugh. ‘‘I am inclined to the opinion that I should enjoy the joke should one of the fish attempt to swallow me, By the way, how do you like married life, my dear Britisher?”’ Cavendish, with an oath, turned to Devere, who was in an att'tude of listening. “Come! let’s tumble this fellow into the creek!” “Stop!” Devere commanded, raising his hand to enjoin silence. ‘‘ Listen! do you hear that roar?” They all listened, and all heard it very plainly. It was like a great volume of water pouring over rocks with terrific din, while, at the same time, a sharp wind was blowing through the valley. “What is it?’ Cavendish demanded, in excite- ment. “Tt is the coming of the so-styled moon-tide* of * This moon-tide, until lately, has been a great mystery in the Black Hills country. Its causes I will explain in a future story.—AurHor, UPI jes
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Ydyl, the Girl Miner. Water, which rushes through this valley every time the moon fulls. It is said to be behind time this month, but is coming now without doubt. Come! we must get tohigher land. Leave the Sport here. The water will do the work for him, I'll warrant!” And turning, the two villains fled hastily from the spot. The moon-tide was upon the citizens of Cascade City, without scarcely any notice, The heavens had clouded over all at once, and the wind had quickened to a strong gale, through the little valley. Then had come the ominous humming roar, and the cascade at the north end of tbe gulch began to assume the proportions of a Niagara, as great walls of water poured down the dizzy hights. Like mighty breakers, the water seemed to roll over the precipice in tenfold greater volumes than usual, and plunge into the basin below with a din that was next to deafening. ‘The water, of course, could not be crowded into the narrow limits of the stream, and, consequently, began to overflow the valley bottom with alarming rapidity and increase of depth. eople ran screaming toward the higher Jand, in terror; horses and oxen were heard neighing and bellowing in affright, and a perfect pandemonium seemed afoot. But it was only for the space of a few moments. Then the strange tide had ceased to the ordinary flow of water. And in five minutes, aside from the rushing creek, only little pools of water stood in the valley to tell of the remarkable flood that had been. The citizens came straggling back from their refuge upon the bluffs, and the subject of the flow was d scussed with wonder by every one. And a curious fact connected with it, was that the entire boitom of the valley was coated with fresh sand, to the depth of several inches, What would be the result? Would these sands yield gold, as those hac done upon the claim of Idyl Abbey? - If so, the future success of Cascade City as a min- ing center, was already an established fact. It only now required a thorough investigation, by daylight, to learn the truth. All nigat long, the valley was crowded by the ex- cited populace, but strange to say, the particular vicinity of the Hermitage and Mrs. Matrevis’s es- tablishment, was quite deserted, which was not in accordance with the usual state of matters. About midnight, three persons stood in a dark shadow which lay behind and around the old Her- mit’s cabin. They were each armed, and stood in perfect silence like phantoms of the night. ‘* Allis quiet and propitious for our work!’ Lord Cavendish said, in a low voice. ‘The moon is com- ing out of the clouds and will light our paths when we get among the mountains—for it is there that I believe the old man’s treasure to be hidden. “He must be in his bed, long ere this,” Devere observed, glancing uneasily about him. “Yes. The cabin is silent. See, the door is even left open, so that the girl, Idyl, can getin. Ha! ha! ere this, she is far away from here!” ‘*Where can the woman be delaying all this time??? Devere growled, his impatience becoming manifest. ‘‘It is a quarter past twelve.” ‘*Oh! there’s no hurry,” bis lordship responded. “The woman will not miss the redemption of her child. by staying away.” * Where is the brat?” . “ Safely hidden—in the mountain-hut, where Cross- eyed Mike has been taken the girl miner.” “ Who is caring for him?’ * An old squaw whom I hired for the purpose.” Silence now reigned among the three night-hawks, Cavendish, Devere, and the Irishwoman, whom the baronet had married. J 4 Eividently she had received instructions, for she had nothing to say whatever, but kept close at the side of his lordship, as if she were afraid he might attempt to run away. The silence about the cabin seemed equal to that among the hawks. Far down the ich torches could be seen flashing, and voices occasionally burst into loud, long shouts. Suddenly a figure glided near to where the trio were standing. “Sh!’’ a voice exclaimed, and the cloaked form of a woman was discernible, although the face was vailed. “’Sh! don’t speak aloud, Have you my child here?” “The boy is where I can produce him within a few minutes,” Byron Cavendish said, in hushed Pog “Go ahead, and do your part of the work rst. “Tam prepared to, so do not fear. Is the old man in his bed?” “We suppose that he is—at least, we have seen nothing of him since we have been in this vicinity.” “Who is this?” Joaquin’s wife demanded, suspi- ciously, pointing to the new Lady Cavendish, “A trusty person, whom I shall take along with us,’ the Englishman replied. “Och! it’s his wife I is, ontirely,” the late Mrs. G. G. W. B. thought proper to announce, with due im- portance. “You had better have left women out of the case,” Berenice said, impatiently. “What are you but a woman?” Devere demanded. “T don’t asp re to that title, now that 1am about to dye my hands in human blood,” was the bitter reply. ‘‘ But I must not hesitate longer. Have your horses handy as soon as I come back from my dead- ly mission.” She turned then and glided away, as silently as she had come. The two villains peered after her through the faint moonlight, and saw her enter the cabin of the Her- mit through the open door. “That means good-by to the old cuss!’? Devere muttered, ‘His berth for a trip over Jordan is about as good as spoken for.”’ With eager impatience they waited. Every minute was now fraught with interest to them. Soon Berenice Muriete came gliding back into their presence. “Ha! you have done the work?” Cavendish hissed, bending forward eagerly. “No, thank God! he was not there. He is notin the cabin.’ ““What? Ten thousand devils! Hasthe otd wretch escaped us?” “So it would seem. They say that he has been gone since before dark.” “Who says this?” “Those in the saloon.” Both Devere and Cavendish joined together in ut- tering a broad curse, ““We are thus foiled in the outset,” the former growled. ‘The old devil has learned of our plans, and gone to secure his gold!”’ “And you are a trailor |” Cavendish raved, turning upon Berenice Muriete. ‘‘ You are the snake-in-the- grass that has betrayed our confidence.” _ “Confidence? ha! ha! What confidence have you intrusted in me? You lie. when you call me a trai- tor! What object could I have? Am | not working to regain possession of my child? Go bring your horses, and we will start at once for the secret cache. But, first, bring me my child.” “That is impossible; the child is far from here. But guide us t» that secret cache, and as there is a God in heaven, I will show you where to find the boy!” Byron Cavendish cried, excitedly, “Very well,” Joaquin’s wife said. ‘ We shall see how you will keep your word this time.” Devere now left them, but soon returned with four fast horses, which he had provided, and in ten min- utes more the whole party were mounted and dash- ing pyar. Berenice Muriete led, and Cavendish, Devere, and
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28 Idyi, the Girl Miner. the recent bride followed in her wake. Ata gallop they crossed the valley, fording the swift creek, and peony Recon ane among the mountainous foothills eyond. he moon had by this time fully emerged from the clouds, and was casting a dim, whitish radiance over all objects. Everything bore a spectral sem- blance; even the four equestrians of the night seem- ed like phantoms as they toiled up through the rocky way, led by a trail that was extremely diffi- cult and, in many places, dangerous. But the wife of Joaquin apparently knew it by heart, for she kept far ahead of the rest, and dashed on fearlessly. The followers fared worse. Cavendish was twice thrown out of the saddle. be- ing a clumsy horseman, while Devere’s animal be- came suddenly lame, and limped horribly. For what seemed hours of time to the rear trio, _Berenice Muriete led on—on, through a wilderness of rocks; now over rugged bluffs, aloug the edges of frightful precipices; then suddenly down sheer de- scents into black depths, where it was impossible to see a hand before one’s face. Would they never come to the end of this wild journey? “ How long, for heaven’s sake, must we continue in this way?” Devere at last demanded, as Berenice slacked up to allow their approach. ‘“‘I’m getting sick of it.’ “Arrah! an’ it’s mesilf as has got ontirely the same,” the Irishwoman added. ‘‘ Bad luck to me, I bel’ave it’s Mrs. Bounce I’d rayther ’av’ remained, than to be skurried off into that divil’s own ratrate, bedad.” “Shut up, woman!” Cavendish enjoined. ‘* What difference does it make to an old wretch like you, where you are?” “Och! do yez hear that? Oh! to the ould dogs wid yez, ye murtherin’ spalpeen! It’s meself as will git off me horse, an’ do no less than sp’ile yer beauty fer yez. Oh! bad luck to yez! ye needn’t grin. Thar was nary a gal at Donnybrook Fair as could handle a sthick aqual to tha wife av Mike Maloney, shure; an’ menny’s the sore head have tha same young bucks received for not civilly tr’atin’ the hod-carrier’s darlint!”’ “Here! no more quarreling!” commanded Bere- nice, drawing rein, decisively. ‘‘Ill shoot the ono that persists.” * Bad luck to yez! what business is it of yours at all—?” the irate Lady Cavendish began, but the gleam of a revolver from under the woman leader’s cloak caused her suddenly to become mum. “We have no great distance to go yet before we come into the vicinity of the buried treasure,” Bere- nice said; “‘so keep quiet, or our mission here may be fruitless.” She then dashed on again, and the others followed as best they could. They now rose gradually up ont of a black moun- tain chasm by a narrow, tortuous way, through beetling cliffs, The further they went the more rug- ged and almost impassable grew the route, Briers and undergrowth choked the way, and tore and scratched both the riders and the animals. Devere growled constantly. “Td choose a life of poverty ere V’'d come out on en a ja’nt again,” he said, with a fierce impreca- on. At this juncture, Berenice gave a little exclamation and drew rein abruptly. “ What is it?” Cavendish demanded, riding eager- forward. ‘Curse me if it isn’t a horse tied beside the trail!” “Yes, a horse.’’ Berenice said—‘‘ probably the one ridden by the old Hermit to bis cache !” “Curse the man! I thought he was totally dis- abled by rheumatism.” “But it seems that he can ride, Come! we must dismount, too, and creep after him, I dare say he has not been many hours gone, and he shall not cheat me out of my child!” “Ha! ha!” Cavendish chuckled. ‘How one of these motherly women will toil for their first- born, Devere! There’s something really strange about it!” “ Divil a bit strange, at all at all!’ volunteered Mrs. C. ‘Shure, an’ it was four childers we bad in the little cot forninst tha ould sod, an’ ivery one av *em was healthy as a pig in tha sty, ontil tha war all seized wid der bloody ould faver, bedad, an’ wafted on high. Och! niver fear, me jewel; it’s some o’ tha same foine days ye’ll be toddling about a leetle descindant o’ tha Maloneys!” “You'll be in your grave ere that, never fear!” Cavendish growled. They all dismounted now, and after securing their animals, crept cautiously on over the rugged trail, Berenice in the lead. On—then, they all paused in front of a black oper- ing in the rocks, CHAPTER X1l. THE GIANT'S FATE. We must return, now, and follow the ruffian, Cross-eyed Mike, who, with poor, terrified Idyl clasp- ed in his arms, a helpless eee was riding with might and main, out of the valley of the cascade, toward the west. He, however, did not take the trail which was later selected by Joaquin’s wife, but struck into a narrow gap or fissure among the crags, further to the south. This entrance was not known to very many, for it was guarded by a Por ea of trees. Once into the fissure, it gradually developed into a narrow, dark, almost subterranean ravine, which ran fora long distance, seemingly through the bowels of the mountains, ere it began to ascend. The giant rode through this, carefully, for it was blockaded in many places by fallen rocks, and logs from the dizzy hight above. It was intensely dark, and he made but slow progress, until he finally reached a sort of table-land, from which the coun- try stretched off toward the Inyan Kara range, in pire broken confusion of rocky and wooded dead- alls. As soon as he had made the table-land, the giant dismounted, and laid Idyl upon the ground. He had for some time past been aware that she was unconscious by the dead weight with which she had rested upon his arm, and he now saw an op- portunity to bind her, in order to carry her with more safety. This he atonce proceeded to do, and after he had accomplished the task, he dashed a little water into her face, from a pool, close at hand. Presently she shuddered, convulsively, and opened her eyes. A look of utter horror came into her eyes, as she beheld the man monster, dimly revealed in the moon- light, as he bent over her, with a hideous leer. “So I’ve got ye, my daisy,”’ he said, with a tri- umphant chuckle—" got ye as nicely in my power as arv mice, As ye’ve heerd me say, several times, me, Mike Gasket, o’bell-punch fame, it aire ther fate o’ ther feminine gender.” “Why have you brought me out into this wilder- ness?” Idyl demanded, her heart filled with terror for her safety, for she had seen enough of this giant to feel certain that he was not too good to com- mit any crime. “Tell me, was it not Byron Caven- dish, who hired you to do this work?” “Wal, now, fest reckon ye ain’t fur off ther groove, bee gal. t war Jest about thet same galoot as persuaded me ter fetch ye away from ther dig- gin’s, you bet.” “T thought so. I have felt that that villain was plotting evil against me, although I did not expect this. What are you going to do with me?”’ “To! ho! that’s easy enuff answered!” the ruffian growled. ‘“ Thar’s «snug leetle hut on ahead hyar whar I’m goin’ ter leave ye in keer uv an old Injun _—
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| Idyl, the Girl Miner. 29 Squaw, wile I sot fer Cascade City, ter j'ine Lord Cavendish in s’arch fer ther old Hermit’s gold, 0’ wich I’m a-goin’ ter get a sheer, you bet yer boots!” ““What! are these men conniving to rob my poor father of his savings?” Idyl cried, in an agony of alarm and excitement. “ Thet’s jest ther ticket they’re votin’, an’so am I, me lady. I guess as how thar'll be no use fer us ter stay hyar longer, so we'll pull on toward the hut. It can’t be fur away now.” And picking Idyl up in his arms, as if she were no heavier than a baby, the giant clambered into bis saddle, and urged his horse off into a rapid gallop. Struggle as she would, the prisoner could gain nothing, for she was now securely bound in addition to being clasped in the ruffian’s arms. Finally a hut of logs loomed up along the trail; seeing which the giant said, with a coarse laugh: “yar we aire ter yer prison now, an’ I’}] leave ye ter ther tender mercies of an old hag until my re- turn, Then you shall become Mrs. Cavendish. He! ho! hyar we aire,”’ and he drew rein in front of the hut, or Indian lodge, which was built of a variety of materials, such as adobes, saplings and skins. There was a single doorway, and in this stood a slovenly-clad Indian woman, who had been watch- ing their approach with evident curiosity. As Cross-Eyed Mike dismounted, with Idy] in his arms, she managed to position herself so as to fill up the best share of the aperture. “Ush! What pale-face want?’’ she demanded. “Oh! thet’s all right, gelorious old flower o’ ther wilderness,” the giant replied. ‘‘ I’ve fotched ye an- other dainty morsel fer ye to keep watch over.” “Waghk! don’t want nudder,” was the decisive an- swer, ‘White man got wrong place.” “Oh! go ‘long now! Don’t ye s’pose this old race- hoss knows his course? Don't ye s’pose I reckog- nize ther Blue Bell o’ ther Crows?” The face of the squaw suddenly lighted with plea- sure at the words. ‘*Ugh! me Blue Bell,” she said, with evident pride. “Pale-face speak good to Blue Bell. She do what- ebber he want.” * Know'd it.” the giant said, leering down into Idyl’s face, as he stood her upon her feet, first hav- ing cut the bonds which bound her ankles. “Ye parseeve it’s impossible fer ther weaker sex to resist me.” “There is one who very successfully curried you off,’ Idyl returned, sarcastically. ‘‘If he were only here now, I'd net be long a prisoner.” “But he ain’t hyar, ye see, an’ consekently I’m goin’ ter leave ye in keer o’ the beautiful Blue Bell o’ the Crows for afew days. Sell watch ye.” “Ugh! Blue Bell do as pale-face say,” the hag re- plied. *‘ Blue Bell watch young squaw berry much.” Seizing her by the shoulder Gasket pushed the girl miner into the hut, and then handed the hag a revolver. 2 “You just keep every galoot away until I come, and ye shell hev gold *til ye ar’ so dazzled thet ye ken’t see naterrally fer a week. Don’t jet no one approach ther place ner git sight o’ ther gal. D’ye hear?” “Blue Bell hear berry much. man say.” rao 8 At this moment there was a childish scream from the inside, and a grim expression came over the squaw’s face, 3 “‘What’s that?” Cross-eyed Mike grunted, suspi- riously. “You've got a boy in thar, Blue Bell; tain’t no Injun brat, nuther.” . “None of pale-face’s business.”’ Plue Bell replied, angrily. ‘*Nudder pale-face leab boy.” “Phew!” and the giant gave vent to a prolonged whistle. ‘Ten to one it’s ther boy Cavendish hes got, w’ich b’longs ter thet Joaquin’s wife!” “Ugh! Cavendish!” Blue Bell assented, with nod. “He pay Blue Bell heap gold for keepin’ pappoose.” ~ He told you thet, did he?” She do as white i “Um! “Waal, now, just don’t ye suck thet shennanigum fer a cent’s worth, old beauty. Old Cavendish hes bin imposin’ on yer conferdunce. He’s broke— hain’t got the scent o’ a copper about his togs— bank’s closed ter wait fer resumption, ye see.” ““Wagh! mean he got no money?” the squaw de- manded, wildly. “Jest that, perzactly. But, don’t git on yer ear. Tl pay fer ther brat an’ ther gal both, an’ ye jest keep all other hoomans away frum hayr. Heer’s ten gold dollars fer ye. Now, d’ye heer? ef any one comes nosin’ around, Cavendish or no Cavendish, you plug it to ’em wi’ thet revolver.” * Blue Bell not forgit if pale-face gib her drink whisky,’ was the cunning reply of the squaw. Fortunately the giant never traveled without a pocket-flask, and this he now produced, and handed it to the Blue Bell of the Crows. She tipped it to her thick lips a couple of times, and then handed it back empty. The giant stared a moment; then, dropping the bottle, vaulted into the saddle, and gathered up the reins to depart. . ““See thet ye keep good care o’ them,’ he said, pointing within the hut, ‘‘an’ ye shell hev a quart o' thet stuff w’en I come back.” Then, plunging the ee into his animal’s flanks, he dashed away over the back trail toward Cascade Gulch, leaving Idyl a prisoner in the power of the old Indian hag. Now unburdened, the giant made the best of his animal’s speed. He was anxious, if possible, to get back into the diggings before the two plotters should start in search of the gold, which was cached some- where in the mountains, 1t was now well on toward morning, and the moon had gone nearly down, which of course increased the gloom, but the ruffian pushed recklessly on, unmind- ful of danger. Horseflesh was of little value in his eyes, compared with gold, and he was resolved to have a share of the old Hermit's treasure, should it ever be found. On, on he dashed, leaving the table-lands, and de- scending into the black depths of the ravine. Suddenly his horse stumbled over some object. and went crashing to the ground headforemost, hurling the giant far ahead out of the saddle, where he jendad heavily upon the rocks, and lay like one dead. He was not killed, however, only unconscious. He awoke after awhile, with a gasp of pain, but when he would have arisen to his feet, he made the startling discovery that he was securely bound, hand and foot. Following this discovery, he crawled into a sitting posture, and gazed around him in bewilderment. He was lying nearly in the same spot where he had fallen, as he was able to determine, for only a few yards away lay his borse—dead! Beyond this a little camp-fire had been built, and its blaze lighted up the'darkness of the black ravine, and around it a couple of persons were pacing, in conversation the while. The giant muttered a curse as he recognized them. One was the Spotter-Sport, Rosebud Rob, while the other was none other than the girl eccentric, Balti- more Bess. They seemed to have heard the giant’s expletive, for they turned toward him, and then approached. Without first speaking, they seized him, and drag- ged him forward into the firelight. ; ‘Then they let him go, and stood gazing down upon nm. ‘Well, sir ruffian,”’ Sport exclaimed, after a short pause, “‘ what have you got to say of yourself? We are waiting for you to speak, before we conclude ye ceremonies of to-night, by hanging you up to ry. eons ye!’ the giant growled, his bias eyes glit- tering wolfishly. “Let me up. W'at d’ye mean?” “We meant hang a few moments ago. J don't opine we’ve changed our mind any—eh, 1a
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30 Idyl, the Girl Miner. “Nary one bit!’ the dare-devil assented. “We two fellers hev assembled together in solemn con- clave, an’ we do sw’ar, an’ agree. that a notorious rough by ther appelative uv Cross-Hyed Mike, have got ter go trouting up river Jordan. Them’s ther percise constitooshunal plans an’ specifications 0’ this hyar court, you bet yer stogy boots.” “Cuss ye!” the giant breathed again, vainly en- deavoring to burst the thongs that boundhim. ‘ 7 tell ye ter set me at liberty, or some ’un ‘ll git hurt, now, purty quick, I don’t want no more monkey- mockin’, nuther.”’ “Ha! ha! that’s the ticket we vote, too!” Rosebud Rob replied. “ We want you to dish out your best, i pont the twitch of a mule’s ear, or up you go to glory “What d’ye want, then?’ “You know that, without asking. We want to know where you took Idyl Abbey, the girl miner!” “Go find out—L’ll not tell ye!’ the giant replied, with an evil grin. ‘She’s whiryou’d nevyer find her, ef ye war ter s’arch a thousan’ years.” Rosebud Rob and Baltimore Bess both seemed to agree that this was merely a parry, by an exchange of glances. “You need not try that game,’ the Sport said. “We ain’t dealing in that kind of stock, You've got to either tell us where the gir) is, or swing, and that in mighty short order, too." I won't tolerate trifling, in the least.” “Oh! ye won't, won’t ye?” the giant sneered, sav- agely. “Wal, ye kin jest go ahead an’ stretch my neck as much as ye please, for I won't scare inter tellin’ wu’th a whale.” “Then hang you shall, and we'll find the captive afterward. Bess, gal, fetch the halter.’’ The girl dare-devil nodded, and advancing into the gloom of the ravine, where their horses were con- seanne, she procured a long, stout lariat, and re- ured, With a coolness befitting one of twice her years, Baltimore made a noose with one end of the lariat, and epi it over the giant’s head, shirring it snugly about his throat. “Thar, neow ’’ she said, with a chuckle. ‘‘ How’s thet fit yer notion fer a Piccadilly collar? Tit’s yer thrut ruther better then it do yer notion, oh?’ “Bess, you are incorrigible,” the Sport said, with a smile. Then, turning to the giant, he said: “Come! If you have any desire to live tell me mene to find the girl, within five minutes, or you 8 ‘* Will ye set me at liberty, ef I tell ye?” the ruffian demanded, “Not at present!” the Sport replied. “You can not catch me with chaff, you'll find. I shall require you to accompany me to where you have concealed ihe girl—ay, psrhaps further. Do you _ know the location of the treasure-cache of the old Hermit?” “Nary aknow. Wish I did.” “Well, will you tell me, or rather guide me to the place where Idyl is concealed?” “No. Ill be hanged furst.” The giant was evidently determined to die, rather than to yield the secret. Rosebud Rob saw this, and was at aloss how to act, and so called the girl dare-devil to one side. “The ruffian is obstinate, even in the face of death,” he said, ina low tone, which he intended should not reach the giant. ‘‘Lam puzzled whether to lynch the devil, or let him go, or take him with “Lynch him!’ Bess said, sententiously. ‘Just guv him another show, an’ef he don’t snatch it, why, simply—lynch him! Let me pull ther rope, ef ye’re skittish about it.”’ ‘* Which I am not,’’ Rob answered. They returned to the ruffian, and seizing the lari- at, dragged him to a place where a single tree grew in the canyon, shooting out a few naked branches, as if in preparation for just such occasions, “Your time is up!”’ the Sport said, as Bess tossed the end of a lariat over a limb, and then seized it again. “I ask once more, will you tell me where Idyl Abbey is, or will you die?” **Let her slide!’’ the giant said. ‘I'll see all the mysteries o’ Inferno afore Ili tell—” Time was not given him for saying more, for Bess gave a ‘reef’? on the lariat, and the combined strength of herself and the Sport was sufficient to draw the giant into mid-air. The lariat was then fastened, and hurrying to their horses, the two regulators dashed away. CHAPTER XII. CONCLUSION—‘‘ WHAT SHALL THE HARVEST BE?”? WE wiil now return to the treasure-hunters, whom we left in front of a black entrauce which led into the bowels of the mountains. “This is the piace,” Joaquin’s wife said, peering ahead into the blackness. ‘‘In here the old Hermit conceals hiv gold. ‘“’Tis a catacomb of caves, and we must go slow and sure. Bach man light his lan- tern, and prepare to follow me.” The order was at once obeyed. Berenice leading, they entered the grotto, At first it was low and narrow, but the further they advanced it widened like a funnel, and con- tinued in this manner for several hundred yards. Then they suddenly found themselves in a mam- moth cavern where their lights were useless, for plenty of this commodity streamed down through a large hole in the dome above. This light told them that morning had dawned upon the mountain peaks in the outer world, The inside of this inter-mountain chamber was a wonder in its natur J beauty. It seemed as though the hand of man had been the architect. The floor was nearly as smooth as a pane of glass, and must have embraced several acres, from one side to the other. Commencing at the right hand a natural corridor wound up the rugged sides of the cavern, making three tiers of galleries, and reminding the spectator of a Roman amphitheater, The three treasure-bunters, headed by Joaquin’s wife, paused to gaze upon the awe-inspiring scene, before advancing further. “This is magnificent!” the Enclishman muttered, admiringly, ‘‘I don’t think T ever saw its equal,” “Arrah!” w'at a mighty foine place it would be for roller-skatin’, indade. ontirely!” assured Mrs, C., enthusiastic in her admiration, “There’s no time for talk!’ Berenice interposed. “We must search for the treasure, although I fear we are too late!” “How too late?” Devere demanded, savagely. “Explain yourself,”’ “Tasily done. I fear that the Hermit has already secured his treasure, and taken his departure.” “* But he did not pass us as we entered?” “No; if he has escaped at all it is by another way, There is another passage leading out of this cham- ber, simi'ar to that by which we entered, and he has probably gone that way. We will first search the cache to make sure,”’ She led the way out into the center of the glassy surface, closely followed by Devere and his lordship and his wife. Pausing in the center, as nearly as she conld guess, she glanced sharply around, and soon knelt beside a erevic? in the surface, the shape of a square. Drawing a knife she set to work, and pried up a block of rock, and hurriedly pushed it aside. Then, by the aid of a strap, she lowered her lantern into a sort of pit below, following it with her piercing gaze, A cry burst from her lips, and she drew back in- voluntarily. nee is gone! The old mau has been here!” she said. A savage curse burst from the lips of Cavendish, and, springing upon the woman, he dragged her
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a a it hy. | . Idyl, the Girl Miner. back upon the floor, and placing his foot upon her breast, drew a revolver. “The fiends take you!” he hissed, flercely, and be- fore either Devere or the Irishwomean could prevent, he took deliberate aim and fired, twice in succession. Poor Berenice gave buta single answering groan, then her spirit fled; she was dead. “In the name of Heaven, why did you do this?” Devere cried, aghast. ‘‘You have not only done murder, but you have forever killed our chances for getting possession of the Hermit’s gold.” , ee Baht ‘tis easy to track the ould divil now,” cried Mrs. C., excitedly. “Of course,” agreed the Englishman. ‘I intend- ed to kill the woman all the time in order to retain ossession of the boy, which must yet fetch me a handsome sum. Ha! look there!” He pointed to one of the upper corridors, where, on looking, all beheld the head and shoulders of Old Elk, the Hermit, suddenly craw out of sight. ; The old man was hiding in the corridor from his enemies, and had been making observations of the scene below, when some unlucky chance caused Cavendish to gaze upward in that direction, = “ By Heaven! ’tis the Hermit,” Devere cried, jubi- lantly. ‘Hurrah! let’s roust him out of that! The golden treasure is now ours.” And yelling like somany savages the two men ran to the foot of the natural ascent, and began climbing upward into the galleries. Mrs. C. did not foliow them, but turned and re- treated into the funnel entrance. Eagerly on and upward the two villains clambered, their eagerness encouraging them to ext raordinary exertion. Puffing and panting they kept on until but afew yards intervened between them and the old Hermit, who stood in front of a large leather sack which lay upon the floor. é i one of his stout oaken crutches upraised, evidently determined to fight to the last. “ Surrender!’ Cavendish cried triumphantly, cock- ing one of his revolvers, while Devere imitated his example. “Surrender! It’s no use to resist. We're two to one, and either you give up, or you die!” “Them's our terms!’ Devere put in. with a mali- cious laugh. ‘Pony up the wealth in that bag, be- ind you, or you’re a dead man!” “Keep «ff, you human fiends—keep off, or T will brain you!” the Hermit cried, in hoarse tones. * You shall not have ube gold; I will die in defense of ita hundred times first!” Alas! it was useless, however, for him to resist, Both men fired at the same time, and with a groan, he fell to the ground, blood spurting from his wounds. Then the humsn wolves rushed forward, and while Cavendish seized the bag, Devere grasped the dying Hermit by the heels, and both were dragged down upon the floor of the cabin from the galleries above. Teh they agg a moment, to gain breath before examining the treasure, which was heavy enough for several fortunes. “ Where’s the Irishwoman?’? Devere demanded, suddenly noting her disappearance. ‘‘ She must die next, and then our trail isclear. Rosebud Rob dead; Joaquin’s wife dead; the Hermit and the Irisher ditto, and we have triumphed!” “Curse the woman! Let’s first look in the bag!” Cavendish growled. 5 F And with eager hands, he cut the tie-string, and pulled the mouth of the bag open! : Then through the cavern sprung a howl of disap- pointment, coming simultaneonsly from both men. The bag was filled merely with fine gravel, which . would not have assayed an ounce of gold! “We have been duped—cheated!” Byron Caven- dish breathed, with a curse. “The old Hermit has secreted his gold, and filled this bag, to baffle us. Quick! before it is too late, we will have the secret from him, if we have to tear out his heart.” THE The old man stood With j 31 “Too late, there, even!’ Devere replied, hoarsely as ne ras from the Hermit’s side, ‘‘ The old man ws dead | The baronet seemed transformed into a living fury, so frightful were his rage and cag Py SRE S “Weare foiled all around, and the gold is lost!’ Devere said. *‘ We have no choice but—” ‘To submit to arrest!” cried a cool voice. “In the name of the law, we arrest you both for the murderof Olk Elk, the Hermit, and numerous other citizens!” And scarcely before the two villains were aware of it, they were securely handcuffed and confronted by Rosebud Rob, Baltimore Bess and the lord's wife, who preceeded at once to doff her disguise, and there stood before them in person Mr, George Pearsons, a noted Eastern detective, who, in con- junction with Rosebud Rob, had been waiting for this very hour to arrive, when he could effect their arrest. Pearsons also had shadowed the young baronet westward from New York, under the im- pression that he was an escaped criminal from Sing Sing; but he had been convinced of his mistake. The Hermit and Berenice Muriete were buried in the cavern; then, with the two prisoners, the trio of detectives set out on their return to Cascade City. On their way they came unexpectedly upon Sir Tom Somerset, leading his horse along through the mountains, and in the saddle was seated Idyl, whom the plucky Britisher had found and rescued, as well as Little Pet, Joaquin’s child. Tdyl was not told of her father’s death until she arrived in Cascade City, and_ it was lucky, for the shock and what she had endured totally unnerved her, and she lay for wecks upon a sick: bed. Sir Tom was head nurse, however, and much was owing to him that she ever 1ecovered. In the mean time, the two criminals received a miner’s trial, and, upon being proven guilty, were lynched without delay. Idyl finally recovered, and one day asked for Ean Rob. Upcn his appearance before her, she said: “Mr, Mapleton, I have had a strange dream con- cerning my poor father’s buried treasure: that you knew where it was concealed. Is t! is so?” “Ay! even so, Miss Abbey T and Pearsons found out where the gcld was by trailing your father by stealth to the spot, and when he had gone, we en- tered the cavern, found the gold, and reburied it in another place for safety, substituting a bag of gravelin place of it. It will give us great pleasure now to place in your hands a fortune. I wi it to-day.” He kept his word, and set out for the cavern at one. pon arriving there, another surprise greet- ed him. Upon the grave of Berenice Muriete a form was lying, cold and silent. It was Joaquin, Jr. , “Poor fellow!’ the Sport muttered. ‘ He has not long outlived his wife, whom I believe he loved sin- cerely, I will leave him as he has Jaid himself. The boy still lives, and I hold the map to the secret mine, which, I take it.is beneath the falls. Heigh-ho! I wonder ‘ what shall the harvest be?’ ” . go for Securing the treasure, he returned to Cascade City and delivered it to Idyl. Enough wealth was there to keep the girl miner weighing for a week; and, it is said, she and SirTom (for they are soon to be married) will be independ- ently rich. Little Pet is to live with them, The Spotter-Sport is still in Cascade City, as is Baltimore Bess. Pearsons has come East. Of the Sport and Dare-devil Bess, we do not mean to lose sight. END,
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