Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 28 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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4 was with, for he was jealous lest it should be center- ed upon his contestant. In vain did ¢ach of the wrestlers practice upon the other all the tricks known to them; ‘twas no use, however, for at the end of an hour both were stand- ing as when they commenced. “Come! come!” roared the man from Potato Gulch, at last, unable longer to stand the pressure, “why don’t ye adjourn ter buzness. Git yer back up an’ me-e-ow like a Thomas cat; get mad, an’ pull each other’s ha’r!" “Shall we throw up the sponge?” demanded vet- eran Jack Fergueson, from behind the bar. ‘ Thar’s no use 0’ yer ‘ras’lin’ forever.” “No sponge for me!” cried Wrestling Walt, his eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘“‘One of us has _ to lay down here, afore the show is over, ‘less e Saint, here, wants to cave.” “Have I caved, yet?’ was the other wrestler’s an- swer, in a fierce tone. “ Go ahead /” And the struggle recommenced. Backward, forward and sidewise they went, watch- ing each vm oe as narrowly as — be merry e@ mouse; bracing, , and tripping; : a inwardly curetin hina Drayton calm and studious. But it could not last forever. Suddenly Wrestling Walt caught his man at a disadvantage, and in a sec- one he bore him heavily to the floor, ‘mid thundering shouts of applause. *“Hurra! hurra!” shrieked the eccentric individual from Potato Gulch, capering about and acting more like a lunatic than anything else, *‘ cock-a-doodle- doo-0-0-00! me-e-eow! Whoop ’em up, "Liza Jane. Warn’'t ‘het done purty? Warn’t that the essence o’ all ’t’s beautiful? Oh! Eliza, my blushing primrose, w'ar art thou, now?” Wrestling Walt allowed his adversary to rise; then he extended his hand. “Shake, pardner; you needn’t git mad, for you had the same chance as I!”’ “T care not ae pe friendship,’’ replied the van- quished athlete, bitterly, as he pulled on his velvet coat pre tory to i aga “You won, and may- ” be it’s all right, and, n, maybe it ain’t; keep your hand; I don't want it. “ All correct, sir; you needn't take it. I bear you no ill-will, and hope it is the same with you. When- ever you want another friendly tussle, hunt me up.”’ St. ‘Elmo nodded his head, and wended his way out of the “Tabernacle.” ‘**Long tunes in short-meter!"’ exclaimed Old Rat- tlesnake, following him with his poet Fe pomovs “That galoot’s got a thistle in his crop, yer boots. kon ow him, or else I’m mistaken,”’ The erowd now rapidly dispersed, after paying their respects at the bar, for if there was any excite- ment elsewhere they meant to find it. Among them went the gentleman from Potato Gulch, his tongue ever mo faster than his stoga-booted feet. That evening the young scout, Buffalo Ben, while sitting in the Tabernacle, and idly watching the comers and goers, received a stark upon the en- trance of aman into the saloon. Not that there was —— remarkable in the a nee of the indi- ual, but because he evidently sp an him. A short, heavy-set person, dressed in citizen's cloth- ing, was ro yet the youth’s eyes lit up with fire as he beheld him. The face, though coarse and bloated, was decided- oak a ee and the hair flo down upon the shoulders was almost too fine and abundant to adorn one of the male sex. Yet as such was the person dressed, and not one out of ten would have suspect- ed the gender in this new-comer that walked up to the bar and called for drink. “* Ha!’ was Buffalo Ben's involuntary exclamation, as his hand sought his belt. “So this is my game in a new harness. I wonder if any one recogn Silver Sal, of “ Slop-Bucket"’ notoriety in that disguise! Few, it’s likely; but I am not so easily foo Now is my chance, and she shall not elude me!” After pouring down a glass of the stuff they call brandy, in Deadwood, the stranger gave a careless ce about the saloon; then turned and left as quickly as he had come. But not unwatched. Like a sleuth-hound Buffalo Ben glided after him, and the two stepped into the black, moonless night —moonless, because the was overcast with omi- nous clouds that had collected during the after- noon. Instead of keeping up through the main street, Silver Sal made a cut direct for the steep hillside, where myriads of twinkling stars through the night's somber vail located many a miner’s tent or shanty. Like a shadow did Buffalo Ben keep in pursuit, his steps inaudible to his hurrying enemy. He gained swiftly until at last he was able to lay his left hand upon the other's shoulder. “Halt! move at your peril!’ was followed by the eniicant click! click! of a revolver. e disruised songstress wheeled about with a curse. Her foreh came in contact with the re- volver’s muzzle as she did so. “Steady, now!’’ warned the youth’s voice, the ring in it betraying sternness and resolve. ‘ You've gone far enough at present, Silver Sal; the Bossest of Boss Gals makes a presentable specimen o’ man- hood, but ain't supposed to be able to cope with men, for all. Do you know me, woman?” “7’'m no woman!’ was the angry retort, in a hoarse, growling voice, meant as an imitation of a man’s ‘I reckon you're barking up the wrong tree, “Oh, no!’ Buffalo Ben’s voice was full of confi- dence. “I’ve been ont he trail of my game too long for that. You're what they call Silver Sal, here in Deadwood, Up in Idaho you were dubbed Fatty f Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. Greene; over in the British possessions you were happy in the name of Mrs. y Falkland!” other curse; then a motion as if to break away and run. “Oh, no!’ said the youth, again pressing harder with the revolver, “don’t try to run, or I'll salt you, sure’s I’m Ben Jerome. You know I’m no slouch with a pistol. Now, then, that after the ee of over a year, we have met, you must tell me where to find my sister Belle!’’ ‘**In the ve, curse her,’’ was the sullen reply. you were there, too.”’ “*No. doubt you would like tosee me there, but I ain’t on the death list, at present. You've got to tell me where she is, so you we a well do it first as last, for I'm going to hold you till you do.”’ be — dead, tell you! How many times must I repeat it?” ‘You need not repeat it at all, for I know itisa black lie. You know me, Silver Sal; ey med Ima Ee hard customer, when I’m riled. you bet- er unburden yourself, right off, before I get upon = ear. I wouldn’t much hesitate to blow the roof oO — head, you've given me so much trouble.”’ "ll unburden myself of nothing. I’m well aware I kidnap the girl; I don’t deny it. I thought I could make her dance and kick money into my pock- et, but I mistook her. She didn’t have any gump- tion about her, and when I’d mauled her about a week or so, she took sick and died, an’ you can bet I was glad of it. She hadn't no talent fer theat- ricals, an’ the stage.”’ ‘“No, probably not, of the kind you Soe Fe useé,’’ was the sarcastic reply. ‘‘ But [still disbelieve ou; you have her concealed somewhere. Come! his parley is simply useless. Where is she?”’ “L in the graveyard, at Cheyenne.”’ “You lie!” ““No; as God is my judge, I am telling the truth!” deciared the woman. Apparently she was in deep earnestness. ‘“* Again I swear you lie!"’ cried Buffalo Ben, flerce- ly, ne coos blazing like lurid coals of fire. ‘“‘ Il know you, of old.”’ “Well, what if I do lie? Whatif Belle Jerome is alive?’’ demanded the woman, a sneer perceptible in her speech. “* What are you to do about it?” “I’m going to make you or—”’ “Or, what?” o yo and cut your heart out.”’ “Bah! I don’t fear hae Kill ef you choose; one may as well die at one time as another.” “Very well. By killing you, if Belle is alive I shall rid her of her greatest enemy. I shall count three; if you don’t speak, (Aree meansdeath. One /”’ A brief pause, then the cool tones of the youth spoke the ominous— “ Two ee He would have counted three, but at this juncture he was suddenly seized from behind, and thrown to e+, th a ery of affright Silver Sal bounded away, and disappeared in the black gloom of the night! e CHAPTER IV. MASKED MAUDE—DEADWOOD DICK. SEARCHING among the heterogeneous population of the Black Hills mining towns, you are liable to find almost every known phase of character; you need not marvel at any personal or characteristic phenomenon, that sudde presents itself. In the country of gold you can find any one you want, from ad o to a saint; from a to a millionaire: from an organ-grinder to a fortune-tel- ler—and it is of one of this latter class that we are about to write. ‘‘ Masked Maude” they called her, because her face was ever hidden behind a black mask; and what any one Knew of her was of little co uence, She had come to Deadwood, one mo , on the stage, and launched out into business instanter, hav- ing bought and paid for a fifteen-by-thirty shanty almost under the shadow of the Metropolitan, an stuck out her shingle— ‘““MavupE VAN Fortune-Teller, etc.” What the “etc.” was calculated to imply, is hard to state; but it was there, to be read and re-read by Deadwood’s wondering inhabitants. Further information was eae tae 6 added, that **Madam Van Buskirk would only receive visitors at certain times of the day and week, Tuesdays and Fridays eo period for “ reception.” On the Friday previous to the Sunday of which we have just been writing, the madam had a customer, He camedown the gulch from one of the hotels, and paused in front of the door of the fortune-teller’s shanty. Glancing np at the ungainly sign, a sarcas- tic smile wreathed his lips. He was a large, heavy-set man of perhaps forty- five, or maybe more, with a full sweeping beard, silvered with many a gray thread; an intellectual forehead, and eyes piercing black in their intensity. He was in citizen’s clothing, of elegant fit and texture; his whole personal appearance spoke of wealth and high standing in the world. He walked with a cane, but evidently not because it was a necessity. ‘**So! this must be the place that I seek,’’ he ob- served, glancing a second time at the “T won- der if her ladyship is in, and ready for business?” He gave a heavy rap on the door, and then waited. At first there was no sound of stir inside; but, pres- ently, some one approached the door, undid the fastenings, and Masked Maude stood upon the thresh- old, a small revolver in her shapely white hand. She was so masked that no of her face could be seen; her hair long and of auburn hue fell over her shoulders in great profusion. In stature she her visitor keenly was a trifle above the medium of women, but in her magnificent costume of purple silk, she looked a Se nannel raised his hat, politely, as he beheld es po , as he e the woman; bowed, and then said: “Ahem! do I see the woman they call Masked Maude—the fortune-teller?”’ “You do,” was the reply, in a sweetly pleasant voice; “ you come in?’ “Well, yes’’—with a little laugh. “I have a trifling amount of business to transact with you, —_ I prefer it should be done within your shanty, than out.” ‘Certainly; walk in,” and the graceful fortune- teller led the way into the shanty, which served her both as office and dwelling. ‘ It was but a — room, and furnished with the rude simplicity of a miner’s taste—a table, a few chairs, a cot-bed in one corner, a second-hand stove, a stock of rifles and other weapons hung against the wall. ‘* Be seated, please,’ said Masked Maude, motion- ing her visitor to a chair, ‘‘and state your errand at a, for time is worth gold to me. Your name And taking up pen and ink, she waited to enter it into a large that lay upon the table. ‘““What difference does it make what my name is?’’ demanded the man, uneasily, while he stroked his beard with a nervous hand. ‘'That need not be mentioned in our business transaction.” ‘* However that may be, I must have your name,”’ was the firm reply. ‘“‘I deal with no one whose nameI do not know. Not for particular use, you know, but as a guarantee of good faith.”’ a Well, then, it is Aaron Wadsworth.” “Aaron Wadsworth,” repeated the fortune-teller, writing in her great book. ‘Aaron Wadsworth. Where from?” “The East.” ‘““Of course; any one might know that. Now, what would you with me? ant your fortune told, I suppose.”’ ““On the contrary,I do not. I do not believe in any such fol-de-rol. Why I came here, I can easily explain. Up at the hotel I was told that B an were literally a world’s directory; that it required only the asking, and you could tell a person the where- abouts of any other person. It is because of this that I have come to you. I want you to tell me the present whereabouts of Deadw Dick.”’ The woman started. ‘““Why do you wish to know?” she asked, eying through the holes of her mask. ae yes she was trying to evade a direct answer to e on, “‘Because I do. You can tell me where I can go to find him.’’ “Oh, no!’ with a strange laugh. “If I knew where Deadwood Dick is, 1 could earn a thousand dollars reward, Or more, You're on the wrong tack, m.”’ ” Bah! you are fooling me!” “In your imagination, yes. Deadwood Dick isa person whose market value increases with age— whose habitual watchfulness and caution grow stronger each day that passes. If you would find him, you will have to explore the countless fast- nesses of the Black Hills.” “Ts that so?’ The stranger seemed surprised. “T had no idea but what you could put me on his trail.”’ He arose and donned his hat. ‘Is that all—the extent of your business with me?”’ Maude ae rising also. ‘If you havea e, I might by some lucky chance see the Prince of the Road, or some of his d, even before you do.”’ Wadsworth reflected a moment. “Yes,” he said, finally; ‘if og see this young robber, tell him he will it his advantage to call upon J. Aaron Wadsworth, Room 4, Centennial Hotel. I will be there for one week.” ‘‘ All right."" Masked Maude jotted down the ad-. dress in her book. ‘I will endeavor to get him the word, for which, inemecine aon consultation fee, I shall charge you fifty do ay. “What /” Aaron Wadsworth was amazed. “Fifty dollars, ma‘am? Why, that is extravagant—enor- mous!’ “Tt is my price, all the same,’’ was the matter-of- fact rejoinder. ‘ You can pay it, and then take your departure.” But I won't!"’ the gentleman from the East de- es) stoutly. “lam not to be humbugged by one e you.” ‘*Then you may as well be seated,"’ replied Maude oe ‘* You cannot leave this shanty till you shell out.’ Wadsworth walked defiantly to the door, and turned the knob. The door was locked, “Oh! you needn’t think to escape,’ observed the masked woman, drumming on the table with the jeweled fingers of her left hand, while in her right she clutched a revolver, already cocked. “Even should you succeed in getting t door n, Tu salivate you with this,’’—indicating the revolver. “What! you wouldn't murder me?” gasped Wads- worth. “Wouldn’t 1? Well, Lain’t so sure about that. I reckon you will have to shell out the required fifty, or shed cold lead.” The stranger uttered a curse, and taking a roll of bills from his vest pocket, he counted out five tens. “ Thanks,’’ the fortune-teller said, coolly raking in the stamps, with a chuckle. “I judged by your looks that you could stand a large fee.’ “Humph!"’ Wadsworth swelled up with import- ance. ‘Were your charges a half-million instead of fifty dollars, I could stand them and not wince Now, release me,”’ ) Gomicbooks co