Deadwood Dick's Big Deal; or, The Gold Brick of Oregon — page 30: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Le - ee vats ere _ Ae Pe, 0. vv, 4 ae § fas "= Yd : a. eee | , : : Fi +h nek Ne fs ‘ : ~ We a ee 32 DEADWOOD DICK. vinegar! Sarcus is over, fellers! Buy yer chips fer the side show, next.” The “circus” evidently was over. Chester had been knocked completely out, and some of the miners were carrying him into the Palace. St. Cecil had got.a miner to release his right hand, and was busied bandaging up his wrist, which, although biced- ing, wes not seriously injured. “Aire ye much hart, pard?” Old Avalanche asked, ap- proaching him. “Great ham-bone! cf it hadn’t bin fer ther “collegiate thortfulness uv Jerrymire, ye’d be a zephyr ameng ther clouds, now.” “My wrist is slightly benumbed—that’s ail!” St. Cecil answered. “Do you know where the shot came from, old’ man? I confess it was so unexpected, that I cannot tell.” “I jedge it came from over yonder,” the scout an- swercd, indicating the office of the Raymond Co. “Mebbe net, tho’.” “It was a dastardly trick to give the villian an deus tage!” the receiver muttered, turning away, and striding toward the hotel. “I will see Chester, to-morrow!” The “circus” being over, the crowd dispersed to the various resorts, the majerity entering the Palace. _ Old Avzelanche, howcver, whistled to his goat, and took his way out of the cermp by way of a wild gloomy gorge which formed an arm to the main casyoa. The goat dogged along at his heels, drowsily, and ntither animal or master uttered a sound, until they were a mile from Right Bower, when Avalanche suddenly paused, and looked back. Jeremiah did likewise. Both appeared to be listening. “We're followed, Jerrymire,” the veteran remarked tn a low tone. “Some ’tarna] skunk has taken a notion ter see whar I live, when I’m hum! Jest ye squat byer, Jerry, while yer granddad meanders back to inwestergate. Ef I ketch ary galoot uv a ’spicious kerrecter, I'll fetch ye back a sculp ter chaw on.” ae gett atti Aggie Sat Romig of a hundred scrimmages stole beck toward Right Bowe-, stealthily picking his way among the huge bowlders that obstructed direct passage through the gorge. . me Conniclbooks.com ; —_