Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 1 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

couches; the moon smiles down: on mother earth, and nature once more fans itself te sleep with the breath of a fragrant breeze. igh 3 Deadwood—magic city of the West! Not dead, nor even coping, is this headquarters of the Black Hills population at ye oe wenty- four hours manag, Sees to the rush of the daring road- nts through p Crook. eadwood is just as lively and hilarious a place during the interval between sunset and sunrise as during the day. Saloons, dance-houses, and gambl- ing dens keep open all night, and stores do not close until alate hour. At one, two and three o’clock in the morning the streets present as lively an a - ance as at any period earlier in the evening. ht- ing, shooting, stabbing and hideous swearing are features of the night; singing, drinking, dancing and gambling another. Nightly the majority of the miners come in from such claims as are within a radius of from six to ten miles, and seldom is it that they go away without their “‘load.”’ To be sure, there are some men in wood who do not drink, but they are so few and scattering as to seem almost entirely a nonentity. It was midnight, and Deadwood lay basking in a flood of mellow roorange. that cast long shadows from the pine forest on the , and glinted upon the rapid, ey waters of tewood creek, which rumbles noisily by the infant metropolis on its wild journey toward the south. All the saloons and dance-houses are in full blast; shouts and maudlin yells rend the air, In front of one insignificant board, ‘‘ten-by-twenty,” an old wretch is singing out lustily: = oy way ye cum, pilgrims, ter ther great Black Thee’ter; only costs ye four bits ter go in an’ see ther tender sex, already a-kickin’ in their striped stockin’s; only four bits, recollect, ter see ther greatest show on earth, so heer’s yer straight chance!” But, why the use of ze ? Already the shanty is packed, and ndging rom the thunde screeches and clapping of hands, the entertainment is such as suits the depraved tastes of the ruffilanly ‘‘ bums” who have paid their ‘‘ four bits,’ and gone in. But look! Madly out of Deadwood gulch, the abode of thou- sands of lurking shadows, a horseman. Straight through the main street of the noisy me- a. he spurs, with hat off, and hair blowing backward in a jetty cloud, On, on, followed by the eyes of scores curious to know the meaning of his haste—on, and at last he halts in front of a large board shanty, over whose doorway is the illuminated canvas sign: “ Metropoli- tan Saloon, by Tom ww ay Evidently his Sppreeoh heard, for instantly out of the ‘‘ Metropo ” there swarms a crowd of a ale and bummers to see “what the row is. “Is there a man among you, gentlemen, who bears the name of Hugh Vansevere?” asks the rider, who from his mi t dress we may judge is no other than Deadw Dick. m!" and a tall, rough- ‘“*That is my handle, looking customer of the Minnesotian order steps for- ward. ‘‘What mought yer lay be ag’in me?”’ “A sure lay!’’ hisses the masked road-agent, stern- ly. ‘‘ You are advertising for one Deadw Dick, and he has come to pay you his respects!” The next instant there is a flash, a pistol pore a all and a groan, the clattering of iron-shod oots; ee aa anyone scarcely dreams of it, Deadwood gone -—__-—_—_— CHAPTER IL THE ‘‘CATTYMOUNT’’—A QUARREL AND ITS RESULTS. THe ‘‘ Metropolitan’? saloon in Deadwood, one week subsequent to the events last narrated, was the — of a larger ‘‘jamboree”’ than for many weeks ore. It was Saturday night, and up from the mines of Gold Run, Bobtail, Poor Man’s Pocket, and Spear- fish, and down from the Deadwood in miniature, Sinbad City, poures a Lipa of : ‘ ellen” e e blear-eyed, used-up-loo ‘p m,”’ mr the inevi e alert for table wary sharp, ever on a new buck to fleece. The “‘ Metropolitan’ was then, as now, the head- quarters of the Black Hills metropolis for arriving trains and stages, and as a natural consequence re- reived a goodly of the public patronage. A well-stocked bar of liquors in Deadwood was non est, yet the saloon in question boasted the best to be had. Every bar has its clerk at a pair of tiny scales, and he is ever kept more than busy weighing out the shining dust that the toiling miner has ob- tained by the sweat of his brow. if the deft- fingered clerk cannot ont six ounces of dust in his own pouch of a night, it clearly shows that he is not the business, turday night! The saloon is full to overflowing—full of brawny rough, and grisly men; full of ribald ‘songs and maudlin curses; full of foul atmospheres, impreg- nated with the fumes of vile whisky, and worse to- me and full of sights and scenes, exciting and re ve, we enter and work our way toward the center of the apartment, our attention is attracted by a brutal “ tough,’’ evidently just fresh in from the ; ney pe ppcantad Base . e enna of an empty w exho n roug ‘ and in the tones of a bello ull, to an ience of admiring miners assembled at his feet, which, by the way, are not of the most diminutive pattern im- e. We will listen: . “Feller coots and li aonane, have before ye a lineal descendant uv and Abel. Ye'll reckolect, eee lo Deadwood Dick. knocked out o’ time by his cuzzin Cain, all becawse Abel war misproperly named, and warn’t able when the crysis arriv ter defen’ himsel’ in an able manner. “Hed he bin ‘heeled’ wi’ a shipment uv Black Hills sixes, thet would hev enadled to distinguish hisself fer superyer ability. Now, as I sed before I’m a lineal descendant uv ther notorious Ain and Cable, and I’ve lit down hyar among ye ter explaina few p’ints "bout true blessedness and true cussed- ness. ‘*Oh! brethern, I tell ye I’m a snorter, I am, when I git a-goin’—a wild screechin’ cattymount, right down frum ther sublime spheres up Starkey—ar’ a re r epizootic uv re dum and scattered permiscously ter ther forty winds uv ther earth.”’ e the “‘cattymount,”’ and presently come to a table at which a young and handsome “pil- rim,*’ and a ferret-eyed sh are engaged at cards. he first mentioned is a , robust fellow, some- where in the neighborhood of twenty-three years of | age, with clear-cut features, dark lustrous eyes, and | teeth of poner whiteness. His hair is long and curl- ing, and a soft brown mustache, waxed at the ends, is almost perfection itself. Evidently he is of quick temperament, for he hand- les the cards with a swift, nervous dexterity that surprises even the professional sharp himself, who is a black, swarthy-looking customer, with ‘‘ villain ”’ ipod written in every lineament of his countenance; is eyes, hair, and a tremendous mustache that he ef ye’ve ever bin ter camp-meetin’, that Abel got position so that his face was just in the op | ligyun, sent down frum cloud- | | ly, having an eye on the card-sh erner the same. | occasionally strokes, are of a jetty black; did you | ever notice it?—dark hair and complexion predomi- nate among the gambling fraternity. Perhaps this is owing to the condition of the souls of some of these characters. The professional sharp in our case was no excep- tion to the rule. He was attired in the hight of fashion, and the diamond cluster, inevitably to be found there, was on his shirt front; a jewel of won- derful size and brilliancy. ‘*Ah! curse the luck!” exclaimed the sharp, slap- ping down the cards; “‘ you have won again, pilgrim, and Iam five hundred out. By the g your luck is Pees eer ** Luck{” laughed the other, coolly; ‘‘ well, no. Ido not call it luck, for I never have luck. We'll call it chance!”’ ** Just as you say,” growled the gambler, b forth a new pack. ‘‘ Chance and luck are then twin companions. Will you continue longer, Mr.—” 3 burn,’’ finished the pilgrim. ‘*‘Ah! yes—Mr. Redburn, you continue?”’ “.[ will play as long as there is anything to for,”’ again finished Mr. R., twisting the waxed of his mustache calmly. fill, eh?” ‘‘No; I'll play all night to win back what I have st.” A youth, attired in buck-skin, and apparently a couple of years rqeneger than Redburn, came saun- tering along at this juncture, and seeing an unoccu- ied chair at one end of the table (for burn and he gambler sat at the re ne facing each other), he tone posse on of it forthwith. ‘* Hello!’ and the sharp swore roundly. ‘“ Who told woe to mix in your lip, Pp ” ‘Nobody, as I know of. Thought I'd squat right here, and watch your sleeves/’’ was the cant re- tort, and the youth laid a cocked six-shooter on the table in front of ‘*Go on, gentlemen; don’t let me be the means of spoiling your fun.”’ The gambler uttered a curse, and dealt out the pasteboards. The rome was watching him intently, with his sharp black eyes. He was of medium hight, straight as an arrow, and clad in a loose-fitting costume. A broad sombrero was set jauntily upon the left side of his head, the hair of which been cut close down to the sealp. His face—a pleasant, handsome, youthful face—was devoid of hirsute covering, he having evidently been recently handled by the barber. The game between Mr. Redburn and the gambler mee eens the eyes of he whom we have just de- scri were on the constantly. The cards went down on the table in vigorous slaps, and at last Mr. Pilgrim Redburn raked in the stakes. ‘Thunder ‘n’ Moses!’’ ejaculated the sharp, pull- ing out his watch—an elegant affair, of pees gold, and studded with diamonds—and laying it forcibly down upon the table. “There! what will you plank on that!’ Redburn took up the time-piece, turned it over and over in his hands, opened and shut it, gave a glance at the works, and then handed it over to the youth, whom he instinctively felt was his friend. Redburn come from the to dig gold, and therefore was a st er in Deadwood. ‘* What is its money value ge he asked, familiarizing his tone. ‘‘ Good, I suppose. “Yes, perfectly fa and cheap at two hundred,” wan anes reply. * you lack funds, r was the unhesita Pe me Tam three hundred ahead of this cuss yet, and—”’ ‘You'd better quit where you are!” said the other, decisively, ‘You'll lose the next round, mark my wor ord. ‘“‘Ha! ha!” laughed Redburn, who had begun to show symptoms of cae ag <p ae ~ oti C ces. He ou gamin, ‘ll cover the wa two hundred gh aa ; Without more ado the stakes were planked, the ~: en ** Maybe you have got your cards dealt, and the game began. PO sn youth, whom we will call Ned Harris, was not e, He took the revolvers from the table, changed his | eee —EEEEE © hb you to aim straight and rid must salt that card-sharp, or 3 ite di- rection of what it had been, and commenced to pare his finger nails. The fingers were as white and soft as any girl s. In his hand he also held a strangely- angled little box, the sides of which were mirror- we Looking at his finger-nails he also looked into he mirror, which gave a complete view of the card- sharp, as he sat at the table. Swiftly progressed the game, and no one could fail to see how it was going by watching the cunning light in the gambler’s eye. At last the camegant went down, and next instant, after the sharp had raked in his stakes, a cocked revolver in either hand of Ned Harris covered the hearts of the two players. ‘* Hello!”’ gasped Redburn, quailing under the gaze of a cold steel tube—** what’s the row, now?” ‘“* Draw your revolver!’’ commanded Harris, stern. » at the same time, “Come! don’t be all night about it!”’ Redburn obeyed; he had no other choice. “Cock it and cover your man!” ‘* Who do you mean?” ‘* The cuss under my left-hand aim.” Again the “ pilgrim ”’ felt that he could not afford to do otherwise than obey. he took *‘ squint’ at the gambler’s left breast, after which Harris withdrew the siege of his left weapon, although he still covered the young East- Quietly he moved around to where the card-sharp sat, white and trembling. ‘“*Gentlemen!”’ he yelled, in a clear, ringing voice, “will some of you step this way a moment?”’ A crowd gathered around in a moment: then the youth resumed: ‘* Feller-citizens, all of you know how to play cards, no doubt. What is the penalty of cheating, out here in the Hills?” For a few seconds the room was wrapt in silence; a a chorus of voices gave answer, using a single word: “ Death!” - “ Exactly,”’ said Harris, ym “When a sha hides ca in Chinaman fashion = his sleeve, reckon that’s what you call cheatin’, don’t you?” “ ee the size of it,’’ assented each bystander, grimly. Ned Harris pressed his pistol-muzzle against the ambler’s forehead, inserted his fingers in each of the capacious sleeves, and a moment later laid sev- eral high cards upon the table. A murmur of incredulity went through the crowd a8 wpa cctine Even “ pilgrim ’’ Redburn was aston- After removing the cards, Ned Harris turned and leveled his revolver at the head of the young man from the Fast. “Your name?” he said, briefly, “ is—”’ _——_— ** Harry Redburn.”’ “Very well. Harry Redburn, that bler un- der cover of your pistol is guilty of a crime, punish- able in the Black Hills by death. As you are his victim—or, rather, were to be—it only remains for your country of an A No, 1 dead-beat and swindler!” “Oh! nol” gasped Redburn, horrified at the thought of the life of a fellow-creature—* I cannot, I cannot! “You can/{” said H sternly; ‘‘go on—you Ul certainly salt you!’ A dea e silence followed. ** One!’ said Harris, after a moment. Redburn grew very pale, but not paler was he than the card-sharp just opposite. Redburn was no cow- ard; neither was he accustomed to the desperate character of the population of the Hills. Should he shoot the tricky wretch before him, he knew he should be always calling himself a murderer. On the contrary, in the natural laws of Deadwood, such a murder would be classed justice. ‘* Two!” said Ned Harris, drawing his pistol-ham- mer back to full cock. “Come, pilgrim, are you going to shoot?’’ Another silence; only the low breathing of the engepetans could be heard. “e Vee 39 Redburn raised his pistol and fired—blindly and carelessly, not knowing or caring whither. went the compulsory death-dea bullet. There was a heavy fall, a groan of , as the gambler dropped over on the floor; then for the space of a few seconds all was the wildest confusion throughout the mammoth saloon. Revolvers were in every hand, knives flashed in the glare of the lamplight, curses and threats were in scores of mouths, while some of the vast surging crowd cheered lustily. At the table Harry Redburn still sat, as motionless as a statue, the revolver still held in his hand, his face white, his eyes staring, There he remained, the center of general attrac- tion, with a hundred pair of blazing eyes leveled at him from every side. **Come!’’ said Ned Harris, in a low tone, ta ping him on the shoulder—‘‘ come, pardner; let’s att ou of this, for times will be brisk soon. You've wound- ed one of the biggest card-devils in the Hills, and he'll be rearin’ pretty quick. Look! d’ye see thet feller comin’ yonder, who was preachin’ from on top of the barrel, a bit ago? Well, that is Catamount Cass, an’ he’s a pard of Chet Diamond, the feller you salted, an’ them fellers behind him are his gang. ys ee follow me, Henry, and I'll nose our way out re,” Redburn signified his readiness, and with a cocked six-shooter in either hand Ned Harris led the way. CHAPTER IV. SAD ANITA—THE MINE LOCATER— TROUBLE. SrraicuT toward the door of the saloon he marched, the muzzles of the grim sixes clearing a path for EGOMG co S)