Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 104 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

2 Deadwood Dick's Device: The Sign of the Double. Cross, A WILD, STRANGE TALE OF THE LEADVILLE MINES—OF MEN OF STEEL—OF TOUGHS AND TIGERS—OF ROAD-AGENTS, REGULATORS, AV- ENGERS, ADVENTURERS—AND OF THE THRILL- ING LIFE IN. THE NEW ELDORADO, BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF ‘‘ DEADWOOD DICK” NOVELS; ‘‘ ROSE- BUD ROB” NOVELS, ETC., ETC: CHAPTER I. DAVID HOWELL’S, WILL. A STORM vas upon Leadville, Such a storm as is not usual in that high latitude--a regular tornado of wind, together with a copious shower of rain, and the play of lightning combined with the roll of thunder. From noon of a warm spring day it had been gathering in the heavens, in threatening puffs of black and gray, with that pare tinge to the horizon oy gh of a concealed riot Then had the heavens grown darker and dark- er, as well as the day. At the first rumble of the heavy thunder men came from the mines and shook their heads doubtfully. They h about as well run the risk of their life below ground, as to face the elements above. Business was suspended in the town until lamps. could be lighted; indeed, few could do anything but stand and watch the strange shapes and colors of the clouds that every instant threatened to spill their contents over the moun- tain metropolis. A man was riding toward the town from in the direction of the mountains, at a rapid gallop —a man enveloped in a heavy dank. with a slouch hat so drawn down over his face as to hide his identity, which evidently was his pur- pose. As he rode he glanced skyward occasionally, as if anxious that the storm should hold off un- ps reached the town, yet distant a couple of miles, The narrow road or trail over which he gallop- ed, was lined with stunted pines, and an under- growth of young chaparral, which gave it a gloomy appearance, even in daytime, to say nothing of its night somberness. There was an occasional cabin scattered along ‘the trail, but they were generally vacant, hav- ing been built and deserted by stampeders—a class of miners who invade every strike, but ~**pull out” at the first warning for better pas- “tures. The horse upon which the rider was mounted, “wus a large thoroughbred bay, with an abund- ance of life and spirit, and it needed but a word from its master to quicken its pace. ‘*On! Spot! on, old fellow, or we'll surely get a ducking!” the rider said, studying the angry face of the heavens. ‘I do not care about offer- ing myself as a target for a hurricane. It is go- ing to bea hard pull for the town, down there ©. the plateau, and the morning’s paper of to- raorrow will have a whole column of obituary news about broken window-panes and disman- tied roofs, if I mistake not. Hello!” He involuntarily drew rein as a woman glid- «1 from the chaparral, in front of his horse cad waved her hand for him to stop. He had not the slightest idea as to what she wanted - but cou combined with curiosity, caused Lim to give her audience. ‘*Stop!” she said, authoritatively; and the horseman saw her pull the vail down closer over her face. ‘Stop a bit, sir! You are wanted at the Dead Pine Tract.” ‘*T, madam?” the stranger echoed, in evident surprise. “ Pray explain—” ‘There is nothing to explain, more than I have told you. You are wanted at the cabin of Dave Howell, on the Dead Pine Tract, and if you’re at all anxious to strike a fat pan, you'll cit along.” And turning, the woman glided back into the chanarral, as mysteriously as she had come. “Well, ’'ll be jiggered!” the horseman mut- tered, watching her retreat until she had disap- peared. “If I was inclined to believe in mani- estations, 1 should say I had received a cail. ‘he woman was too cleverly disgui for one to recognize her, nor do I think I have ever heard her voice.” A few drops of rain upon the leaves above Deadwood Dick’s Device. him, and a glance at the whitish gray and pur- ple sky, seemed to decide the rider as to his Cc ourse. “I will go to Dead Pine Tract,” he declared. “Tt is a good way of avoiding the storm, and if it is a trap for me, as I more than half sus- pect, I’ve a pair of tools in my belt that have never gone back on me, to my recollection.” And with a low laugh, the incognito gave rein to his horse, and oped away in a course opposite to that which he had been pursuing. he wind in to a very eile, carrying with it dust, leaves, sticks and rain, and the thunder boomed a deep angry solo to the light- ning’s flash. Still the lone horseman spurred ond Tiravely fighting his way through the now fierce tornado, which howled around him like so many infuriated demons, At last, however, he struck into a section of timbered country, almost within sight of Lead- ville, which bore the name of Dead Pine Tract, from the. fact that etrry. pine tree in the piece of timber was dead—a ae trunk only standing with seamed sides tell where the fatal lightning had left its mark during some former storm. Here the wind did not strike so heavily, for the tract was protected on the east by an abrupt line of bills that checked the force of the low- flying winds of the howling land hurricane. Threading the forest of dead pines by way of a well-beaten trail, the horseman soon emerged into a glade coat some fifteen acres which had been but rudely cleared of logs and debris, and containing two buildings—a cabin, and a large slab shed over the mouth of a shaft. ‘This must be the place where I am wanted,” the rider muttered, guiding his horse up to the door, and drawing rein. ‘* This must be the fa- mous Howell mine, of which the Leadville pa- pers have been incessantly blowing. A _ rich strike, too, they say—equal to the Little Pitts- burg on Freyer Hill.” There seemed to be no life about the premises, judging from external appearances; so, dis- mounting.and tethering his horse, the stranger rapped smartly on the door. After a few moments footsteps were audible crossing the floor, and the door was opened by a Chinaman—a ype mischievous-looking almond eyed son of Confucius he was, too, clad in the style customary with his class. ‘* Whatee ’Melican man wantee?”’ he demand- ed, looking so serious as to appear most comi- cal. ‘‘T wish to know what I’m wanted for, as much as anything,” the ranger replied, ban- teringly. ‘‘I was sent here bya vailed wo- man, who remarked that my presence was de- sirable in this cabin. Show me in, you pig-tailed rascal !” The Celestial obeyed, and the stranger found himself in a large rudely furnished room, con- taining such traps and trimmings as you will find in any miner’s ‘-hut—i. e. cooking utensils, while a table and bed occupied a large portion of the space. A man la og a the bed, evidently suffering great pain, for is face was contorted, and his eyes bulged wildly from their sockets. He was very thin and bony, and his haggard appear- ance was increased by the ragged condition of his garments. A man sat upon a stool by the stove, frying some meat—a rough, common looking person- age, who did not look as if he was gifted with more than an ordinary stock of brains. The person upon the bed looked up eagerly, as he heard footsteps crossing the floor, and saw the stranger standing above him. His mire seemed to grow less wild in their glare, and the expression upon his features less rigid. Who are you?” he demanded, in a hoarse, gasping tone; ‘‘ who sent you?” “My name is Harris; Edward Harris, at your service,” the stranger replied, turning down his collar and raising his hat, thereby revealing a handsome, manly face. ‘‘ I came hither at the instigation of a vailed woman, who intercepted me back here in the forest.” “It is well. She kept her word tome. Your name is Edward Harris, eh?’ ‘“* At your service—at least, such is the name I choose to sail under.” : ‘*Harris! Harris!” the old man muttered thoughtfully, as if trying to recall some past and gone memory. ‘‘ Hdward Harris! It seems to me that that name has reached my hearing before—ah! yes! I knew I was not wrong;— Edward Harris—Deadwood Dick!” by the “The same, originally!” the | against bedside replied. ‘‘Have you a gru Deadwood Dick?’ ' ‘‘None!” the old man answered, with a chuckle. ‘“‘ Deadwood Dick never did me any harm, and is not likely to, since he was lynch- ed, but a few days ago, in Leadville. As to the similarity in your names, it is not singular, for Harris is not an uncommon name.” ra perhave not,” the stranger replied, with a smile. “If there is Wf I can do for you, be pleased to state what.” ** Yes! yes! I had almost forgotten that time is flying, and ushering me into eternity. For, as you may have observed, I am dying, young man—dying, and suffering the most acute pain. Life won’t hang to me much longer, and I may as wellsum up my business, at once, Are you married, Edward Harris?” ““T am a widower,” Deadwood Dick replied, a cloud coming over his face. “Tt is well. I know you would be a kind husband; kod very presence seems to tell me so. Now listen, and I shall tell you my plans. Iam known as a miser, in this section of the country, because I chose to remain a recluse, and refused to share my gains with the world— with the world, understand you, which grasps everything in its way with a merciless gripe. Never did a hungry human leave my cabin, or a distressed one—yet they call me a miser, because I would not share with the rich—be- cause I couldn’t find it convenient to let a pack of greedy relatives step into my shoes. ‘‘T have a brother and his family, who are anxious to have me die, so that they can step into my shoes. They have even set spies to watch me, and see that I leave my property to no one else but them. But those spies have relinquished the job, and I have yet life enough to outwit my eager relatives. Ay! Pll cut them off without a penny, for I hate them, even as ee hate me.” e paused for a moment as if racked by pain or passion. * Until a few days ago, [had a child to watch over me, but they came and took her away, supposing that my will would place her in pos- session of my property, and as her ptiandlan they could have the handling of it, and ulti- mately swindle her out of it. But, we shall see them balked in their designs. Be seated, young man, and, you Cherub, bring the table nearer, with ink, , and Sen the little tin safe I keep in the red chest.” While Edward Harris became seated, the Chinaman hastened to obey the old man’s orders, and the table with the requisite articles was soon drawn up close to the bedside. David Howell was then bolstered up with pil- lows to a sitting position, so that he could write, with the table as a desk, Before beginning operations, he drank deeply from a bottle he had in the bed; then he seized the pen in a hand that trembled like an n. Write he did, however, upon the paper, although it was after a scrawling fashion. Steadily, although death seemed to cast its hovering shadow over him; nor did he speak until he had finished; his whole soul seemed to concentrate with the words that formed at the int of his pen upon the r. Soy Gen he er made abe tat stroke, he laid the pen aside, and handed the paper to Ned Harris. ‘‘Read it aloud! I can better tell, then, if it is as I desire,” he said, sinking back exhausted, upon the pillow. as Deadwood Dick did as directed, although he grew greatly surprised, as he read. The document read as follows, having append- ed thereunto the date, and place: “Being in sound and sane state of mind, and knowing that mydeath is but a matter of afew hours, I, David Howell, miner, of the town of Lead- ville, State of Colorado, do make my last will and testament, and append my signature in the presence of witnesses, an the presence of my God. “To Edward Harris, more widely known under the nick-name or nom de plume of Deadwood Dick, I do bequeath the whole of my real estate and personal property as itstands, unincumbered by debt or mort- age, said real estate being tract of land known as e Dead Pine Tract, containing fifteen acres, and the Howell carbonate mine, together with one cabin and one shed, and personal property embracing the con- tents of said mine, shed and cabin, such as tools, fixtures, furniture, etc, “To said Deadwood Dick, I do bequeath the guard- ianship of my daughter, Stella Howell, who, at the time of this writing, is in the custody of her uncle, Major Morton Howell, of Leadville, Col.; said Dead- wood Dick to assume her protection and support un- til she is of legal age, when, if there be a mutual agreement between them they shall marry, and keep the bequest among them and their posterity. In case of no ma e, the first clause of my will to hold good, making Edward Harris, alias Deadwood mr m0 toladlee tl I] enny api ‘* To my relatives at large, I leave one penny apiece, which an heir will hand to them, when he reads to (EO MANICE cS JOO co