Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 186 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

- you not say so atfirst? Why did you s ee oe a the unknown, and she still kept her rifle ready for action as though she distrusted the purpose of the uncouth being. ‘*‘ Here I am, mistress, and what do you want with me?’ the unknown asked, still clinging like an ape to the limb of the tree. It was a human, after all, although at first both of the travelers were in doubt in regard to it. ‘* Nay, it is for us to question,” the girl re- plied. ‘‘ Who are you, and what do you want, and why do you drop warning words from tbe very clouds, as it were, down upon our heads?” ** Because you are not suited for this country. Go back; such as you are not wanted here!” the strange being answered, swinging himself in the air by means of the limb. ‘* What know you of us, and why do you deny us a right to seek our fortune here?” the gir] exclaimed, spiritedly. ‘““T know more than you think; I know that ou have fled in the night, and that angry foes ave tracked you hard and close, but the foes you have succeeded in leaving behind are noth- ing to the ones you will encounter if you keep on in the direction in which you are going.” ‘* And in what direction are we going?’ asked the girl, abruptly. ‘‘Here are two paths, one to the right, the other to the left; which one will we take?” ‘*The one to the right,” the nondescript an- swered, without a moment’s hesitation. ‘¢ And whither will that lead us?” ‘* Up into the mountains, and if you follow it long enough into the Mormon land.” he girl made a gesture of impatience. ‘*'You are trifling with us. We should have to travel many miles to reach the Mormon coun- ‘*Did I not say that if you followed it long enough?’ the skin-clad fellow exclaimed, with a mocking laugh. ‘* But, what is the first settlement that we will come to?” ‘‘That is more than I can tell, for the first set- tlement on that trail is so far off that my legs have never carried me there, and I don’t thin { should care to venture, either, for the red devils are thick in that direction.” The girl’s heart sunk within her, and as for the rider he gave vent to a slight scream. ‘‘The Indians! Oh, if we are in the Indian country we are lost indeed!” ‘* Well, as to that matter you will find white men in this region who are more merciless and have less of the human about them than any red buck who ever donned the war-paint!” the nondescript declared. ‘* But we are in the San Juan country, are we not?” the girl asked per ‘You are, and the worse luck for you, for you couldn’t be in a worse place.” Truly, this fellow was a Job’s comforter. ‘‘ But there are mining camps near at hand?” and the girl peered before heras if she expected to see the welcome lights shining through the mantle of the gloom. ‘* There is one camp near—one only.” ** And how may we get there?” ‘‘Take the other trail—the one to the left;” and the fellow grinned maliciously as he spoke. Despite her patient, quiet nature the indigna- tion of the girl flamed forth. “Why, you saucy fellow, you have been playing with us!” she exclaimed. meh § Pic O our taking the other trail which will lead us straight into the Indian country?’ ** Because I am a prophet and can look into the future!” replied the fellow, ndiloquently. ‘* T see danger—dark and horrible danger threat- wer be if you descend into yonder valley.” ‘‘ What valley is it?” the girl asked, paying very little attention now to the wild and wan- dering speech of the other, because she believed that he was of unsound mind and therefore not responsible for his words. “Death Valley!’ ’ Again an exclamation of alarm came from the lips of the boy and an anxious expression appeared upon the girl’s features. ** Death alley ?” she murmured; ‘‘ what an ominous name!’ ‘* So it is, and so it has been called ever since the dark hour that witnessed the massacree of Conejos,” the nondescript chanted, in dismal tones. This time it was a shrill scream that broke from the lips of the boy, and the girl was so affected that she staggered back, and with her hand pressed to her heart looked with staring eyes upon the skin-clad man. ‘‘Oho!” he cried, in strange glee, ‘‘I thought i recognized you—I thought you knew all about €. Cool Desmond. ee - it; and that is why I told you to take the other trail. Better seek shelter with the wild red- men than to take up your abode in Death Val- ley where the unquiet ghosts of the massacree still linger.” ‘*Oh, let us turn and fly!” exclaimed the boy; ‘evil fortune pursues us.” ‘* No, we will go on!” the girl replied, firmly, with a great effort recovering her firmness. ‘* What is this valley to us? e are strangers and know nothing of it, nor of those who have ever dwelt therein. It is fate that has directed our steps this way, and it is useless to battle against fate. Wewill go on. Will you guide us?’ With a hoarse cry the animal-like fellow drop- ate Mga, his perch on the wall to the rocky trail. ‘*T will; come on then; and if black murder or foul-faced despair seizes upon you hereafter for this action, remember that I warned you and you would not listen. Come for Juanapolis!” CHAPTER III. THE FUTURE METROPOLIS OF SOUTHERN COLO- RADO. THE story of the rise to fame, and often for- tune, of all mining camps is about the same. The prospectors strike the ‘‘ leads” and dis- cover ** good pay dirt;” then the miners flock in. It is really wonderful how soon news of this sort travels in a wild and almost desolate country, innocent of all the various means of communicating news common to civilization. It really seems sometimes as if the news of ‘‘rich strikes,” as the discovery of valuable lodes are commonly termed in the mining re- gions, must be borne on the breath of the wind by supernatural means so rapidly do the tid- ings spread. A couple of prospectors—these searchers after wealth generally hunt in couples—late in the af- ternoon in some secluded valley discover a valu- able out-crupping of ore which seems to prom- ise wealth, There is not another white man within a dozen miles to their knowledge, or at least they have not seen a human face for days. They shake hands over their discovery, stake out the claim and proceed to test it. The dirt pans out well; they retire to rest that night teeling convinced that they have hit upon a good thing and that their fortunes are made, but when they awake in the morning, lo! two other prospectors are on the ground, just as if, vulture-like, they had scented out the rich rey. : Within a week a dozen shanties are up, for, as the scent of carrion attracts the buzzards, so the glitter of gold gathers the humans. Soon the town is named and if the mines are good it grows apace; but if, as often happens, the ore is but surface stuff and ‘‘ peters” out then, like the Arabs, the inhabitants fold up their tents, and the ‘ city’s” fall is as rapid as its rise, And in this manner Juanapolis had grown up, a “right smart erage ” for a camp only six months old, for that was all the age the town boasted. Seven months before the prairie-wolf had howled and the jackass rabbit had gambol- ed on the very spot where its main street now stood—not sie the main but the only street. It ran parallel with the river, as the inhabitants proudly termed the little creek, one of the head- waters of the Rio Grande, alongside of which the town had grown up. There were only twenty or thirty houses in the place, counting shanties and tents alike, but in the foot-hills near at hand were quite a num- ber of cabins here and there, the inhabitants of which claimed kindred with the town. There were three principal buildings in the city that loomed out prominently above the smaller shanties by which they were surround- ed. The first was the hotel, ‘‘ Tenderfoot Rest,” as it was aptly called. In wild Western parlance a ‘*tenderfoot” is a new-comer, a greenhorn, a pilgrim from the East, The second, the general store, that supplied the wants of the miners, and sold everything from a needle to a complete ten-stamp mill. The third, the a im Fonts and gambling-den combined, which boldly call- ed itself ‘‘The Desperado’s Den.” There was no mincing matters here, and the proprietor of the aforesaid saloon evidently was determined that his patrons should be prepared for their fate if they chose to court it by walking into his place. It was a common joke among the men of the town that they had the roughest-named saloon and kept by the politest white man that could be scared up from the Mississippi to the Pacific. Desmond was the owner’s name, not Tom Des- mond, nor Bob Desmond, nor Desmond Smith, 3 or Desmond White, but simple Desmond, and as he was wont to say when bantered in regard to the rest of his handle: ‘*‘ Well, if Desmond— lain Desmond isn’t enough—you may call me esmond, the Desperado.” And so he was call- ed all up and down Death Valley, although in person he was the ical gambler; a medium- sized fellow with coal-black hair, worn long and. curling slightly at the ends, always pushed back behind the ears, like a parson, a smooth, Indian-sort of a face, Indian in shape but not in color for it was always deadly pale; no living man had ever seen it flushed, no matter how great the cause; and the man was always dress- ed in complete black, disdaining a vest, how- ever, possibly because it would have spoilt the looks of the elaborately ruffled shirt upon which the gambler seemed to pride himself. Desmond was anything but a desperado in ap- pearance, and tan Juanapolis had seen the time when in deadly fight he had single-handed stood up against a crowd and driven them all, o the muzzle of his revolvers, out of his sa- oon, As more than one brawny giant had remark- ed, who had presumed upon the appearance of the man, and had discovered to his cost that he was a chief of note: ‘* He don’t look it, stranger, but when you git him started he kinder seems to swell up until he weighs nigh a raat an’ ef you don’t believe jis’ 5 on, that’s all!” ery few cared to try it on, though, unless their senses were so muddled with liquor as te be incapable of reflection, for even a stranger, if he was any judge of character at all, r one oe look at the peculiar face of the would surely have come to the conclusion he was not one to be trifled with. The landlord of the hotel, too, on his ame was just as strange and odd a character as the keep- er of the opposition place, for really the hotel depended almost altogether upon its bar-trade, for travelers were few and far between, al- though the hotel had a few permanent boarderw . that helped it to keep up. ‘‘The Doctor” the landlord was called, and Juanapolis had never known him by any other name. He had come down into the valley alone and. by night—no man knew from where or whence —and just the first kind of a ruction was going: on in the hotel. The then proprietor, a rather hasty-tempered Irishman, had got into a flerce quarrel with some of the miners from up the creek, and a terrible row had followed, wea- pos were freely used, and the landlord was adly hurt. The cry went up for a doctor, but there wasn’t one within the valley; then the stranger stepped forward and tendered his services, and after he set to work upon the wounded man the bystanders quickly saw that he was not only # doctor, but, as one of them expressed it ‘‘a rip- staving one, too!” Despite the care and attention which he re~ ceived the landlord died, for his wounds were mortal, and it was not within the power of man to cure them. In eats, though, for the care which had been bestowed upon him by the stranger, whe couldn’t have attended to him more closely and carefully if he had been his own brother, the landlord bequeathed to the doctor the hotel, which be accepted. The landlord died and was buried; as one of the leading men of the town remarked: ‘It was a pity to lose so good a citizen, but then some- body had to start the graveyard, as such a thing: was necessary to a growing city.” ‘The doctor headed the procession—as a miner observed to his disgust: ‘‘ Looked too much like » man a- carrying home his work,” he said—and them took possession of his property. Some time after this, in a gossipy mood one night, a miner remembered that no one had ever learned the doctor’s name. They had al- ways called him ‘The Doctor” and nothing more, and boldly he made question. The doctor drew up his tall was a splendid-looking man of middle,age, with a full brown beard, and nearly six feet high— and said, pleasantly: “My dear young friend, don’t ask questions, because, if you do, I shall be compelled to con-~ fess that my name is John Smith—that I poi- soned sixteen men in the East, and that there is a reward of ten thousand dollars for my ap- prehension.” In the San Juan region no greater breach of manners can be committed than to put impru- dent questions in regard to a man’s name and where he hails from, for, truth to tell, many of these honest miners are unlucky men who stately form—he- EGomiicboo oo eor