Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 263 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

oppose him, I must have a clear cool brain, and good, sturdy backing. The first quality I am ‘ possessed of; the second I yet require,” “Then you want to enlist recrnits, do you?” Wild Walt demanded, a strange gleam in his eyes. ygixactly!” Calamity assented. ‘‘I want men who will assist me to right my , at the risk of their lives, They shall well paid for it, and if there is no satisfactory result, should we recover the sunken gold there will be an equal division made. Remember, I am to be captain, boss and sole director of the movement |” The Tiger nodded. ‘“‘T reckon I comprehend,” he said. want to capture this lost duck of yours.” “‘T want either to capture him, or hunt him down to a corner from whicb he cannot escape, and there force him to acknowledge that I am innocent of the charges preferred against me, or—kill him!" was the stern reply. “Well, I reckon the stockin’ about fits my foot!” the Tiger grunted, placing his hands to the sidés of his head with a doleful expression. “TI ain’t no fool to lose my ears fon nothin’, wi’- ont revenge, an’ I’ve got enough men to back me, you bet.” “Then get your men together; look well that no traitors are among them. When ready, I will swear them in, and the penalty of treachery will be death. As soonas you have your men et, out, send me or personally deliver me a tof their names; we will then get down to business, as soon as practicable.” With these words, Calamity turned and left the Big Bonanza, followed by many admiring glances—for bers were a face and figure that would attract the attention of any lover of womankind. When outside of the saloon, she directed her footsteps toward the beach, upon which the light of the now late rising moon was just touching. Her face was — and an expression of keen- est sorrow mantiled her features. Down by the water’s edge, seated in her boat, and gazing out over the blue waves, was Kate Laurel, her thoughts evidently far away. Calamity saw her, when at some distance pear and a sharp pang of jealousy thrilled her bein She used for a moment, an expression rtly of anguish and partly of anger upon her “Oh! so she is out ga | of the gallant Captain Poker, is she?” escaped her lips, in a hiss. ‘If so, lll awaken her from her delight- fal reverie!” She stole forward, with cat like tread, her face colorness, again, and her eyes gleaming. So enrapt was pretty Kate, in thought, that the jealous wife of the famous Prince of the Road gained a position within an arm’s reach without discovery. “What is the pretty star gazer thinking about!” Calamity then asked in sarcastic tones, “Is she dreaming of the noble Romeo whom she ferried over the Jake?” Kate turned with a violent start, and her face @ushed with indignation, when she saw who had broken in upon her reverie. “Does i¢ concern you whom I was thinking off’ she demanded, very calmly—yet in her calmness there was coolness. ‘* Most assuredly it concerns me, because you bave no business to entertain thoughts of one who is not yours!” was the retort. ‘‘ You may as well know that first as last.” ““ Which does not certify that that one may net be mine in time,” Kate returned, provok- ef will learn you better?’ Calamity cried, fiercely. ‘‘ Pray explain what right you have te interfere in my domestic troubles, and create a wider breach than even now exists!” ** None, if you are what you represent. But 1 doubt this very much, never having heard that Deadwood Dick possessed a wife. More- over, lam A a ke the man, Captain Poker, is Deadwood Dick, whose apparition [ have fre- quently seen upon the lake.” Calamity stood for a moment evidently at joss what to say to her unyielding rival, for it was quite patent that Kate was not in the least dis to give in. Judgi'g by your words, then, you would er my enmity,” Calamity said, finally. ‘““S oamnot truthfully say that I have any strong desire to incur either your friendship or your enmity,” was the cold reply. ** Then, | have no choice, your future conduct — what my ng toward you sbali be,” the Weman Sport replied, turn- “ You Deadwood Dick's Divide. ——— + - - - -- ing and striding back toward the main part of the village. Kate Laurel watched her, a strange expression upon her face. ‘*‘What have I done?’ she murmured. ‘I don’t believe that woman is the wife of Dead- wood Dick, whose image I have been infatuated with ever since [ came to Doomsday—ay, and even before! Oh! why is it I cannot control my passion for this man, who perbaps never heard of me?” CHAPTER VII. ¥ A LETTER OF MYSTERY. THE next day, early in the forenoon, Calam- ity Jane repaired to the post-office, after the stage had arrived, and asked for her mail. As sbe expected, she was given a letter by the grizzled old miner who superintended Doomsday’s not over-large postal service. The letter was addressed: “CALAMITY JANE, Doomsday.” and the handwriting was somewhat feminine in its style. Leaving the post-office, tae pi over to the Big Bonanza, Calamity entered and seated her- self at a deserted table. Here she opened the letter and proceeded to its perusal—but, lo and behold! there was noth- ing to peruse. The inclosure was simply a half-sheet of ordi- nary white writing-paper, which to all appear- ances had never been used. Calamity sat and stared at it in blank amaze- ment, at loss to understand the meaning, for she ha’ expected to find a message from Dead- wood Dick. What did it mean? Had he— Her gaz9 once more became riveted upon the aper. Gradually, on different parts of the alf-sheet, written words were beginning to ap- pear, as if by magic. Was it witchcraft? Not atall. Calamity guessed that the words were written with some kind of lquid that re- mained colorless until warmed and exposed to the light. In five minutes after the a sad! to the sun's rays she was enabled to decipher the entire let- ter, which ran as follows: “Warrnatess Woman—Why come here? Do you think to profit. thereby, or resurrect the dead? Be undeceived. No gold of mine shall be yours, nor shall you ever reclaim the dead, to whom when liv- ing you were so unfaithful. Beware! “ “Tre Sprrir or Swamp Laxkr,"’ Calamity laughed quietly as she folded up the strange letter and slipped it into her pocket, “Tt reads very ghostly indeed, but does not half convince me that Deadwood Dick is not alive. But why is it that he haunts this lake, playing upspook? Surely not because of the re- uted sunken treasure. That would not long ther him. He must have some other object. Can it be that the girl is the cause? No! no! I cannot believe that, even though he believes me faithless.” It was ali conjecture, and the more she thought about it the less satisfaction she derived. During the forenoon she met for the first time the eccentric chap, Bum, who eyed her curi- ously. “Durn my old cats ef you ain’t a queer ’un!” he remarked, pausing to squint at her, at the sume time stroking his strangely colored beard. “‘*Spect as how you hain’t got any female togs, ’ ey? “ What's it your business?’ Calamity demand- ed. “I’m running my own affairs; you run yours, and be off with you!” ‘¢Perzam! that’s what’s ther matter of Sal! Admire yer pluck, I do, cl’ar to the bottom of my stogies. My name is Bum, and that’s my perfeshion, too. S’pose ye ain't got a stray bit or so in yer wallet ter lend a thirsty mortal tew procure p’izen with?” ‘Not a nick!” Calamity responded. ‘ [ve got through contributin’ to the missionarie~. Why don’t yourun your face over at the Jew’s?” Bum shook his head dubiously. “Et won't work!” he sighed; “the Jew will stand no cheek or face. I’ve tried et o’er an’ o’er, in various places, but somehow it wouldn’t work. Thar war not beauty ner magnetism in my mug tew attract the bottle from its accus- tomed place upon the shelf, aided by the sym- pathetic hand of the barkeeper. But I tell ye, miss, ef I don’t lubricate ere long all the cog- wheels of my carcass will refuse to work, and thar’!] be a kersplosion.” — ** Well, the best way you can alleviate your ee em er re et remem suffering, then, is to go and take a drink out of the lake!” Calamity said, Bum shook his head. ‘*Too weak, gal—too weak,” he protested, sor- rowfully, ‘I can’t stand the pressure, and must wither like a sunflower on the desert of Sahara,” * Alas! so be it, then,” Calamity said, with mocking pathos, as she turned away, “I am afraid you are too far gone for redemption, al- ready,’ ‘eg Bum we her sharply as she walked away. ‘* Cynical as a lobster w’ot’s got a grip on yer toe!” he commented. ‘‘ That’s her w’ot fT hear tell is goin’ ter lay fer ther ghost of Deadwood Dick, or whichever it is. I mustsee my ie, Kate, and see What her opine is on matters in general, And be made his way to the Laurel shanty. CHAPTER VIIL A VILLAIN’S PLOT. THAT day a rough miner, mounted upon a burro, arrived upon the shore of the lake, oppo- site Doomsday, and signaled for Old Dan to come over with the flat and ferry him across, This was done, and Dan pocketed his little fee of two dollars with quiet satisfaction, The miner claimed to be from the interior, and gave his name as J:hn Brent. And no sooner had he struck the town than he made a bee-line for ihe Big Bonanza saloon and com- menced to indulge in plentiful draughts of bug- juice, after the fashion of the average miner after striking it rich, as Brent from the first de- clared he had. ‘“Yas, my noble galoots!” he cried, gulpin down a glass of ‘“ red-eye,” ‘‘ yas, I have struc it rich, me an’ my pard; an’ now whose bizness is et ef I celebrate a small sized Fourth o' J ulia *thout fireworks? Two long years bev we bin workin’ our Jeetle private snap, on only two rations o’ whisk a day, an’ now I opine it’s about time ter anniverse. The old man sed not to say nothin’ about it; but ghosts and goblins, it’s too good to keep! Why, ef ye would be- lieve it, ther old man ’ll be along heer wi’ ther mules—ten on ’em—an’ every one’s loaded down wi’ ther purtiest dust an’ nuggets ye ever see’d. Lordy! but we aire rich enuff ter buy out Con- gress, we aire—me an’ my * Of course the habitues of the Bonanza pricked up their ears at this startling intelli- gence, and Wild Walt even so far forgot his own misery as to come forward with manifest eagerness, an evil gleam in his eyes. “Who is this pard o’ yourn, stranger?” he asked, slapping he miner familiarly on the shoulder. ‘* Mebbe I mought know him.” ‘Yas, an’ mebbe not, ’ca’se he don’t git ’quainted werry easy. His name is Old Jim Laurel, an’ he’s a man who mind’s his biz ev’ry day in a week.” “Laurel, eh?’ the Tiger commented. ‘*‘ We've a party of that name hyar in Doomsday—an old hen an’ a chicken, Ever heer yer pard mention ’em?” “Waal, neow, I opine!” Brent ejaculated; ‘fan’ that’s jest what [I’m heer fer, ter brin ther news that the old man’s comin’, But sball bev ter take aboard a leetle more nervine afore I go inter female presence, ’case how I’m urticler skittish of ’em. Wimmen was allus pea wuss by me than ther seven years’ itch. ; But it became apparent that the more “ ner- vine” he got, the less he became nerved for the task of waiting upon the Laurels. In fact, it was not two hours from the time of his arrival ere he was too full for utterance and asleep in one corner of the saloon, But he had ‘*‘ given away” what he had evi- dently been warned not to communicate, and Wild Walt had taken it all in with avidity. He had Jearned that Jim Laurel was to arrive upon the opposite shore of the lake some time during the evening with his pack-mules loaded — down with gold. Unless Old Dan Doomsdhy broke his usual custom, he could not be tempted to go across after the passenger, who must necessarily have no choice left but to camp down where he was till morning. Wild Walt hunted up his confederate, Quaa- trel, and in low tone explained the situation to bim. “'Thar’s a pile o’ gold within our reach if we only reach fer it,” he said, significantly. “It's worth riskin’ more fer than what lays in the bottom of the lake.” “Well?” Quantrel interrogated, “we murt get that aire gold, and hev it for our own, eh!" “Exactly!” the Tiger agreed, “ Ef we don't make our pile now, we never will, All we GONE cS —— OO) 0) Coir