Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 1 — page 1: what you’re looking at

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

1 i 4 Single Number. Vol. L. ee Deadwood Dick, PRINCE OF THE ROAD: OR, THE BLACK RIDER of the BLACK HILLS. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER. CHAPTER IL. FEARLESS FRANK TO THE RESCUE. On the plains, midway between Cheyenne and the Black Hills, a train had halted for a noonday feed. Not a railway train, mind you, but a line of those white-cove vehicles drawn by strong-limbed mules, which are most properly styled “prairie schooners, ”’ There were four wagons of this type, and they had been drawn in a circle about a camp-fire, over which was roasting a savory haunch of venison. Around the camp- were ouped half a score of men, all rough, bearded, and grizzled, with one exception. is being a youth whose age one could have safe- J put at twenty, so perfectly eveloped of physique and in- penigons of facial appearance was he. There was somethin about him that was not hand- some, and yet you would have been puzzled tell what it was, for his countenance was strikingly handsome, and sure- ly no form in the crowd was more noticeable for its grace, symmetry, and proportionate evelopment. It would have taken a scholar to have studied out the secret. He was of about medium stature, and as straight and square-shouldered as an ath- lete. His complexion was nut- brown, from long exposure to the sun; hair of hue of the raven's wing, and hanging in ong, straight styiods adown his back; eyes black and pier- cing as an eagle's; features well molded, with a firm, reso- lute mouth and prominent chin. He ae an a SA specimen of young, healthy manhood, and, even though a youth in years, was one that could command respect, if not admiration, wheresoever he might choose to go. One remarkable item about his personal appearance, apt to strike the beholder as being re an | strange and eccen- tric, was his costume—buck- skin throughout, and that dyed to the brightest scarlet hue. On being asked the cause of this odd freak of dress, when he had joined the train a few miles out from Cheyenne, the youth had laughingly replied: ‘Why, you see, it is to at- tract bufflers, if we should meet any, out on the plains ‘twixt this and the Hills.’ He gave his name as Fearless Frank, and said he was aiming for the Hills; that if the party in question would furnish him a place among them, he would extend to them his assistance #5 a hunter, guide, or what- ever, until the destination was ~eached. ¥eving that he yi » Pi ™ — |= Tha | HTL PLDT) was well 5 ' Ll eu (7 (0mm Tl =e (oa WI WARNE \\ _ oO — meaetteetreereuerwereneenfen. Copyrighted in 1877, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. armed, and judging from external appearances that he would prove a valuable accessory, the miners were nothing loth in accepting his services. Of the others grouped about the sr a el only one is specially noticeable, for,as Mark Twain re- marks, “the average of gold-diggers look alike.” This person was a little, deformed old man; hump- backed, bow-legged, and white-haired, with cross eyes, a large mouth, a big head, set upon a slim, crane-like neck; blue eyes, and an immense brown beard, that flowed downward half-way to the belt about his waist, which contained a small arsenal of knives and revolvers. He hobbled about with a heavy crutch constantly under his left arm, and was certainly a pitiable sight to behold. =<——— Pil —_ ——— = L— —= = - 2 ———.— — —= =| Iii. [ om | yy ’ ee, ——— —— ——— == a f == fs > —- > , — | ——— -- . A > ’ : ‘ ' WN, RM MN BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, He too had joined the caravan after it had quitted | Cheyenne, his advent taking place about an hour subsequent to that of Fearless where he came from, and what he sought in the | Black Hills, was simply a matter of conjecture were the miners, as he refused to talk on the sub- ject of his past, present or future. Helle, | rank. His name he | asserted was Nix—Geoffrey Walsingham Nix—and | | Ha! ha! ha! isn’t that rich, now? Ha' ha! ha) arrest Deadwood Dick if you can! ~~. OWS Go DW MMA \ ‘ NS . ‘ : ~ ows Aca (na ANS The train was under the command of an irascible old plainsman who had served out his apprentice- ship in the Kansas border war, and whose name was Charity Joe, which, considering his avaricious dis- sition, was the wrong handle on the wrong man. tharity was the least of all old Joe’s redeemin characteristics; charity was the very thing he did not recognize, yet some wag had facetiously brand- ed him Charity Joe, and the ap elation had clung to him ever since. He was we Padvanced in years, yet withal a good trailer and an expert guide, as the success Of his many late expeditions into the Black Hills had evidenced, Those who had heard of Joe’s skill as a guide, in- trusted themselves in his care, for, while the S were stopped more or less on each trip, Charity Joe’s train invariably went through all safe and sound. This was partly owing to acquaintance with various bands of Indians, who were the chief cause of annoyance on the trip. far we see the train toward the land of gold, without their having seen sight or sound of hostile red-skins, and Charity is just chuckling over his usual good luck: “IT tell ye what, fellers, we’ve hed a fa’r sort uv a shake, so fur, an’ no mistake “bout it. Barrin’ thar ain’t no Sittin’ Bulls layin’ in wait fer us, be- head yander, in ther mounts, I’m of ther candid opinion we'll get through wi’out scrap- in’ a ha’r,”’ “I hope so,” said Fearless Frank, rolling over on the areas and gazing at the guide, houghtfully, ** but I doubt it. It seems to me that one hears of more butchering, lately, than there was a month ago— all on account of the influx of ruffianly characters into the Black Hills!” “Not all owing to that, chip- Rye interposed ‘“ General” ix, as he had immediately been christened by the min- ers—‘“‘not all owing to that. Thar’s them gol danged cop- per-colored guests uv ther gov- ernment—they’re kickin’ up three pints uv the’r rumpus, more or less—consider’bly om of more than more o” less. Take a passel uv them barbar- ities an’ shet ’°em up inter a prison for three or thirteen Se. an’ ye’d see w’at an mpression et’d make, now. Thar’d be siveral less massy- crees a week, an’ ye wouldn't see a rufyan onc’t a month. W'y, gentlefellows, thar’d nev- yar been a ruffian, ef et hedn’t een fer ther cussed Injun tribe—not one! Ther infarnal critters ar’ ther instignators uv more deviltry nor a cat wi’ nine tails.”’ “Yes, we will admit that the reds are not of saintly origin,”’ said Fearless Frank, with a quiet smile. “In fact I know of several who are far from meng. angels pee. There is old Sitting Bu , for instance. and Lone Lion, Rain-in-the- Face, and Horse-with-the-Red- aa so forth, and so Oo 7 — ~_ —— jist Les awn yp! MYL ee =~ - ._—- _ _— IT TT} Wi Mi) )j -- fort. “Exactly. Every oneo’ ’em’s a danged descendant o’ ther old Satan, hisself.”’ “Layin’ aside ther Injun subjeck,”’ said Charity Joe, forking into the roasted veni- son, “I move thet we take up a silent debate on ther Mmicdooks.-co (E(@)