Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 100 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

t ————— ’ Deanwoop Dick A Strange Stroke for Liberty. A Wild, Exciting Story of the Leadville Region—of Regulators and Adjusters; of Road-Agents and Banditsa—of the latest eventa In the strange career of Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road, BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, auTHOR oF “ DEADWOOD DICK” NOVELS, “‘ ROSEBUD ROB” NOVELS, “* DEATH-FACE, DETECTIVE,” “ WATCH-EYE,”’ ‘* CANADA CHET,” ETC., ETC., ETC, CHAPTER I. A MIDNIGHT CRIME—THE TOURISTS. THE night was a stormy one in the latter yart of March. The snow fell ceaselessly until jhe mountains and prairies were covered, and the gulches drifted full, when a fierce wind came driving down from the north, with re- lentless fury, scattering the powdery flakes in a blinding cloud. Yet astranger was abroad—a man mounted upon a jetty steed, and muffled in a heavy fur overcoat, that with the great collar coming up about his neck, completely screened his face. He wore a broad-brim slouch hat, and cavalry boots, mounted with spurs, with which he would occasionally touch his animal. Through the blinding fury of the storm the man and beast toiled, seeming determined upon reaching some given point that night, despite the adverse elements. Their course lay through a narrow gulch, flanked on either hand by low hills, and further off, but seemingly quite near, were the snow- capped mountains of the world-famous Rocky belt. An abundance of scraggy pine timber grew beside the trail, and up over the hills, a fact the lone traveler noted with a satisfied air, as he urged on his faithful animal, through the drifts in the gulch. ‘Tt can’t be many more miles,” he muttered, beneath bis furry muffler, as he endeavored to penetrate the darkness ahead. “ Ugh! this is the worst ride I ever experienced. Triumph, my good horse, it has been a hard jaunt upon you, but take courage. The meal we s0 covet is not far distant, unless I have lost my reckon- ” Re animal, however, gave no sign that he understood his master, but trudged on as well as he was able through the snow, impeded, too, by the fiying clouds of flakes. Nosound broke the stillness, except the mourn- ful howl of tle wind through the pines that resisted the fury of the gale with iron aalyror OF On—on went the horse and lone rider, with- out stopping. Presently the gulch grew narrower and deep- er, and as he rode down through the gap, the stranger gave a surprised start. For he beheld a sight which he had not expected, inasmuch as thenight was one when prowlers were not likely to be ab What he saw was half a dozen mounted horse- men, on each side of the trail—dusky, ee and motionless as if they were ornaments fixed there by Nature’s mighty hand. Not a word they spoke, nor a motion they made to stop the lone traveler; they seemed to form a part of the dark howling night which surrounded them. The lone traveler did not pause to make the intance of these strange horsemen, on see- ing that they offered him no molestation, but spurred on, until out of rifle-range; then he gazed back through the gulch. ‘Them chaps must be road-agents, Pll al- lcw,” he muttered, wiping the snow from his eyebrows, ‘‘or else what be they doing prog on such a night? Waiting for a stage, mos likely. But, ten to one the stage from Webster doesn’t reach Leadville to-night, without a dou- ble gang of snow-shovelers.” On he rode through the gloomy gulch, finally rising a considerable eminence, where he paused to about ; © his right, through the blinding flurry of | ' dead! snow, a faint, starlike gleam of light twinkled, but this was all. In ever other direction, all was dark. ‘There lies Leadville,” gazing toward the light. ‘‘But there is naught there to attract me. But one thing could ever have brought me to this region—” He did not finish his soliloquy, but abruptly | two. turned his horse in an opposite direction from the light. Rough cabins and barn-like shanties soon loomed up in his way, being the coverings of the mouths of shafts, of “leads” and “ stri ces,” which have made Leadville the ‘‘ red-hottest ” lace in the Far West, and more than a rival of eadwood in her palmiest days. meni his way among the shanties, the stranger at last dismounted under an open shed, where he left his horse, and once more set out, but this time on foot. Wading through the snow toone of the larger cabins, he opened the door, and entered, with- out the usual formality of knocking. The cabin was floorless, and a lare hole pene- trated the earth near the center, over which a large windlass had been constructed, to lower a hugh iron bucket into the mine, of which it was the shaft. A single lantern suspended upon a nail driven into the wall, furnished the only light within the building, Closing the door behind him, the stranger sat down by a little wood-stove, in one corner, and warmed, while his eyes roved about, curiously. “This must be what they call the Wild-cat mine,” he said, musingly, *‘for yonder is the rude picture of one of those animals. Morris, that; he always was an odd one. [ hope he’) come soon, I am not anxious to stay in this rookery all night, without supper or bed.” But the party in question did not put in an immediate appearance, and the stranger lit his pipe for a smoke. The lulling effect of the tobacco smoke, together with the fatigue of his rough ride, must have quieted his mind, for he was soon asleep, and snoring as soundly as ever did venerable old Morpheus. How long he slept, he knew not, but he was awakened by the sound of loud and angry voices, and discovered that he was not alone. Two men stood on the other side of the wind- lass engaged in a dispute. One was a man of five and forty years, and the other scarcely thirty, judging by appear- ances. ‘The first was bearded, and attired in the rough garb of a miner, while the latter wore only a mustache, and was dressed more tastily. From his position the stranger was able to see without being noticed, and the two men evidently had not discovered his presence. ‘You are a liar!” were the first words he caught, and they came from the younger of the ‘You are an accursed liar, and were you as young as [, ’'d mop the dust off the ground with you.” ‘You can have that privilege, now, if you feel able,” the elder replied, coolly. ‘* Lam not afraid of you, in the least. My assertion that you have stolen from me, since you entered my employ, is the truth, and all I want is a restor- ation of my pro verty. That I will have, or—” ‘““Or what?’ demanded the other, with a sneer. . ‘‘-Your life!” the elderreplied. ‘I will toler- ate theft from no one. You can repay me the sum you stole from me, or you can fight!” ‘‘Bieht it shall be then!” the young man said, savagely. ‘*My hate for you will allow me to kill you, with the best of grace. Choose your weapons.” ‘‘ They are knives. You had better return the money, and save sour life. I do not want to kill you, but I must have my money back.” “Get it, if you can!” the young man retort- ed, defiantly. ‘‘ You should know me well enough to know that [am not a fool. 1am ea- ger to kill you, and then the Wild-cat all is x wih “Should I fall, you will never live to enjoy the victory!” the elder gritted, hoarsely. Then, the two men drew knives from their belts, and advanced stealthily toward each other, Upon the faces of both was an expres- sion of deepest hatred—in their eyes flamed a light which set to words meant Death ! From his corner the stranger watched coolly. Exough of life in the rough mining district had he seen, to know that it was best to interfere in no man’s quarrel. Nearer and nearer crept the two foes, with knives firmly clutched, and teeth set; nearer and nearer—then there was suddenly a flash and a report, and the miner fell to the floor— The younger man dropped a smoking revol- _ ver from his left hand, and restored his knife to its sheath, with a low, triumphant laugh. Spring! hat a sense of exquisite pleasure that single word excites. How many hearts beat afresh as Just like | _ London society. ee Ne eee ' endl the springtime dawns, with its refreshing breath, its sunny days, its delightful showers, and its clear skies. | Spring hac come in the mountains and upon the prairies, bringing with it flowers, grass and foliage, and the songs of a thousand silver- throated birds. All nature seemed ready to ‘ee and be wooed by every lover of the beau- iful. A stage was toiling along the tortuous but icturesque road from Webster to Leadville. t was not the regular passenger coach, but a private, open conveyance, containing a party, evidently tourists, judging from their personal appearance, and the several huge trunks ap- pended to the rear end of their wagon. This wagon was drawn by six prancing horses, while in the driver’s seat sat a veteran Jehu, who handled the ribbons with perfect skill. A “regular beauty ” of a driver, Jack Fargett was esteemed, for he had heen the hero of more scrapes with flood, fire and road-agents than any other man in the rockies, and had run the gantlet with his stage where other men less brave, would not have dared to venture. And then, Jack Fargett knew all the prominent road- agents, persqaanixs and knew whom he could fool with and whom he couldn’t. The party, aside from Fargett, consisted of five persons—or, to use Fargett’s characteriz- ation—‘‘ one gentleman, one conceity fule, two leddies, an’ a niggur.” The latter, much to Fargett’s disgust, had to ride with him on the box. These ladies and gentlemen we shall know as. the Farnsworths, a party or English tourists, in search of picturesque sights and scenes in aoe although each traveled for a different object. Sir Noel, the handsome elder son of my Lady Farnsworth, traveled to get rid of the bore of He was a blonde, eight-and- twenty, a thoroughbred ladies’ man, and a gen- erous, whole-souled fellow. From Old Sir Roderick he had inherited the lion’s share of the Farnsworth wealth, but the wealth or title made nochange in him. He was. a free and easy fellow. Spending his revenue in a moderate way, where it would do the most good. From the early age of sixteen he had been kept constantly in society by Lady Farnsworth, whose sole ambition, it. was, that he should make a great match. But, although Sir Noel acquiesced to nearly all his mother and sister dictated, he had grown to regard women, generally, as an intolerable nuisance — especially the scheming butterfly belles of fashionable circles, Lady Farnsworth was a brunette, and a well “Sony til woman of fifty, who had passed her est daysin the service of society, and now lived to see her children eligibly married. Third in the party was Chandos Farnsworth who traveled expressly to see the sights, and amuse himself by criticising everything that. didn’t meet hisfavor. He was the second son of Lady Farnsworth, aged six and twenty, and a sort of hanger-on, as, having been cut off with- out a cent in his father’s will, he had to look to Sir Noel, through Lady Farnsworth, for his sup port and loose cash. He was neither the most amiable or handsome of the Farnsworths. Dark and swarthy, with a rather sinister cast of features, and restless black eyes and hair, he was irritable, haughty and self-conceited, often to actual rudeness. He had a great propensity for drinking and gambling, and much of Sir Noel’s money was absorbed in keeping his spendthrift brother above water. Chandos was more after Lady Farnsworth’s liking, as she regarded Sir Noel as too easy Oe nie austere enough for the high position he occupied. Chandos, she argued, would have let the world know of his import- ance, while Noel was too lazy and sluggish ever to create an eat sensation. Fourth of the party, was Lady Belle, who traveled because she liked “roughing it.” She was the youngest, being only nineteen, and was pi a counterpart of Sir Noel. A blonde, well-shaped and very pretty of face, she possessed the same mild, unruffled temperament of Sir Noel, though she was a trifle more girlish and wild, and vivacious. Out of doors and out of social restraint sth was in her element, ready for anything from a horse-race to a fox-chase—a sail or a hunt with hounds. The negro, Josephus Wash, or ‘‘ Snowflake,” as Sir Noel had-christened him, was a servitor whose business it was to superintend luggage, black boots, dust the clothing and make himself generally useful. He was an eccentric fellow, ghock full of fun and music, and was never se ‘ OOye) "Gomic cS (eo) — - as w - LL LLL LLL CLI OE see =. eo othe hs. ~~. }) |