Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 443 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

> other —_ fey le Nee! Land egurt te .'*, ; . oo iad — ie , 2 Pp) oe : a¢3 De ~ ‘ n “Yd suffer death from it. But this flight titement have 9 Hyer the hurt and I ‘4 filling up with blood inside. I know I ily a few moments to live. But, as I said ‘ rt: am glad to die, for Iam weary of life. pocket you will find papers that give ‘xplicit information than I have been able you. At my death you are, of course, - father’s only child, sole heir to the half astate which belonged to him and me.” ‘1 he leave no will?” s. That, too, isin my pocket. Take care not lose it, or that Budd Bristol does not for he will never cease making an attempt possession of your share of the property yas he lives. The deeds are in my pocket, hade of pallor flitted over Mrs. Bristol’s she seemed not to breathe for a moment; ae rallied and spoke, but it was in a husky > or. yw'll have to be careful, my boy,” she said, > Dick’s hand in her own, so thin and al- loodless—‘‘ you will have to be careful. Budd Bristol finds that I am dead, he will “ry to get you out of the way. He is abad and the men he has with him are no doubt same stamp.” ou feel certain that it is Budd Bristol who ven us pursuit?” es, He swore he’d follow me to the ends of rth but what he’d secure his point. You /case both you and I were dead, he would ster of the situation, and heir to all the , but for one thing.” nd that—” a discovery I made a couple of days be- { left the Niobrara ranch. I chanced to rer an old letter from your father, written sas five years “et h! Then he still lives?” think so—I feel certain of it. The letter irected to Budd, and inquired after your 1 and mine, and requested a loan of fifty 's, for the purpose of paying set of min- ols, He wrote from New Luck, Nevada. was five years ago, but I want you to try nd him. I—I—there—it’s—death !—it’s—” ch was interrupted by a hem- ige, which poured from her mouth, and the \-rattle sounded in her throat, a moment her spirit had returned to the _ \ All-Giver. + many minutes Dick Bristol knelt beside sad mother, and sobbed as though his heart ibreak—wept until he could weep no more; drying his tear-stained face, he set to work ‘form the last sad rites, with a sorrowful ess born of desperate ms er : cleaned away the blood, and raising the , fastened it to the back of Fleetwood with _riat, then taking the horse by the bit-ring, the way up the gulch. e sun was setting by this time, but he kept on, until he came to four mounds, side by ‘evidently graves, not long since made. halted his horse and scrutinized the lettered ” Set te-bead of each grave. 4 -4yetu ko poard bore the name of William ithrop; the second Iris Winthrop, while the d bore the following inscription: | ‘‘*CALAMITY JANE. tANK WITH FRIENDS, FEARLESS OF FOES.” nd this is what young Bristol read, with itest surprise, on the fourth slab; ‘* HERE LIES ‘ DEADWOOD DICK, LAVE, HONORABLE AND KIND IN PEACE; COOL, a a LD Deadwood Dick Jr. ofS And the sun sunk behind the great hills, and the birds went twittering homeward through the somber shadows that crept down the mountain- side, like grim and noiseless phantoms, CHAPTER IL. CALIFORNIA KIT. but deep and rapid stream of water, known as Reese river, swept majesticall down through one of Nevada’s deepest and aerate | est canyons, swirled around a huge bend,formed out of the only Jevel point of land known for miles around, with a sullen roar, and then rush- ed on to the southward, as if proud of having rounded the offending bend that obstructed its course, With a great noise indicative of its mighty displeasure. ith its source in some of Nevada’s famous high spring lakes, it tore madly down through the mountains, from ravine to gorge, and from gorge tocanyon, gathering strength and force every few rods of its journey, until, when it passed the bend above referred to, it was a river of no mean size, but so rapid and boisterous that only an expert would have vared to venture out upon it in canoe or skiff. Beyond the bend it kept on for miles, finally turning directly southward, into a more level country, and forming many a pretty land-lock- ed Jake on its way. The bend we have mentioned, as being the only level spot around its section of the moun- tainous country, was in reality a bar of sand and rocks, about two feet above the level of the river into which it projected, and comprised about a thousand acres of surface, being shaped somewhat like a diamond, the sides not bounded by river being rimmed by solid rocky mountain walls that ran almost perpendicularly upward to stupendous hight. And, singular as it Hany AOE, upon this bar was a town—a real, live Western “ city,” of up- ward of two hundred souls. The only way of reaching the place being by a narrow trail that followed the eastern side of Reese river up and down the canyon’s length. We will call the camp Bummer’s Bar, for reasons best known to the writer. The preponderance of bummers and guzzlers in the town, who would not work as long as they could beg whisky and provender, make the eons particularly appropriate. he great towering mountain-walls_ that formed half of the boundary of the Bar were rich with veins of gold and silver-bearing quartz, and a number of drifts had already been made by different operators, the yield of which had far exceeded the most sanguine ex- pectations. There was work at good wages for every one who cared to work, but, as usual in every min- ing-camp, there were a number of drones who never made it a point to earn their living by the sweat of their brow—gamblers, fakirs and - mers, and the other heterogeneous classes of the vagabond species. ummer’s Bar, besides its log, slab, and can- vas habitations, boasted of two barn-like hotels, The Nugget and The States; a couple of combin- ed drinking and gaming saloons; a general store and post office; a dance-hall, where big-footed miners and ‘'’49er” women nightly displayed their terpsichorean accomplishments; a smithy ; a bank-exchange, an ore-crusher and refining mill, and several establishments of a minor character, including a ‘‘ washee-washee,” run by John Wong, an almond-eved dandy. We drop into Bummer’s Bar, about two weeks after the events narrated in Chapter I. We arrive about sundown, by stage, and as the States is the better looking of the two hotels, A NARROW, At one side of the entrance was a bulletin board, on which was pasted a hand-lettered ad vertisement, which read as follows: “LOOK! LOOK! GAZE! ‘A Treat For Everysopy, To-NiGHT! The Greatest Sensation of the Age! At an Outlay of Many Hundred Dollars, the Pro- rietor of the “ Daisy,’ will show the People that he eeps THE BEST RESORT IN THE WEST!!! To-nNIGHuHT! 'To-NIGHT' Admission Fee! GRAND PRIZE FIGHT! With Hard Gloves, between the local bruiser, BIG-MOUTH MOSE, of BuMMER’s BEND, and CALIFORNIA KIT! The Famous Female Boxer of ’Frisco! Reserved Seats, $5.00,” This sign had been posted for two days, and to say the camp had been in a@& fever of excite- ment, since it first appeared, would be ** drawing it mild,” to say the least. Dutch Duff was an ignorant and uncouth Dutchman, not credited with great smartness; but he had a very ‘“‘fly” bartender, in the per- son of Julius Jenks, and Julius it was, who had spent some weeks in arranging for the sensation, with a view to drawing trade away from the rival saloon, which was known as the ‘* Hum- ming Bird.” Big-Mouth Mose was considered the “ very baddest” of all the bad men of Bummer’s Bar, and there were plenty who were shockingly bad, that’s sure. Mose, however, took whatever ‘‘ cake” there was to be taken, and the man had yet to come to the Bar, who could ‘‘do him up,” in any way, shape or manner. e stood about five feet seven, in his sto boots, and weighed over two hundred pounds, being large of trunk, broad-shouldered, and pos- sessed of limbs of unusual size and muscular development. _ His sledge-hammer fists looked capable of fell- ing an ox. e had a large, round head, the top part of va was bald and glossy, and a thick, bull neck. His.» was red and fat, with a pug nose, little bead-like eyes and overhanging brows, while his mouth extended almost from ear to ear, and gave him a ludicrous appearance. He was not naturally of a ruffianly disposi- tion, and was rather inclined to be waggish and create a ‘“‘circus” at some one else’s expense, except when in liquor. 2 : He was an inveterate brag, and really had ey cause, for no one had as yet got the best of im. , ‘Ther idee ov a stripplin’ ov a gal a-tryin’ ter knock me out!” he said, with a sniff of disgust. ‘Why, I'll bet a thousan’ dollars an’ ther red liquor, ther first clip I give her will knock her silly!” No one took up the offer, for it was well known in camp that he seldom had a thousand cents about him, much less a thousand dollars. And so the people waited anxiously for the eventful night. California Kit was to arrive on the stage the same night of her appearance at the ‘‘ Daisy,” SB DARING AND FEARLESS IN WAR.” we put up there. , Aimy ae So. Deadwood Dick is dead, eh?” he mused The stage brings a big load of people to the = kpoey ? oe Big Be meas Gy ge . | ja this is his grave? I have often heard of Bar, and we find the little town can well do | Qo) ie Asan crowded si tt ye thes . and Calamity Jane, as two restless and dar- without.them, for it is already packed with peo- of the irl prize-fighter from Kris free i irits, friendly to friends but deadly to foes ple. And this, before it is yet a yearling camp! | ° 0 , Yc he’ renew A Coane ala Saad Dick was a dreaded detective, and The jocund landiord of the States, Capt. | 91) ine female waa pens fait he sy id i ble as an avenger of evil and wrong-doing! Hooper, informs us, as he gives us his last room, | 0™Y ALOK’ ‘Weonian ebtican 7 8 Sap ie ; Why should 7 not be the same? Thave a | that he shail have to set men to work, to-mor- | \ Caring a m vail ted down’ Over thet, tace- of vengeance to satisfy, a good old mother's | TW to build on another story, and that if the whom the stage-driver dipected to the Nugget » to revenge/a father’s ruin to repity. rush don’t abate, before long, a committee will | Fyiray 6 1 se ie pe Na ; es, Budd Bristol, I will have your evil life have to be created, and charge an admission fee | That’s her—that’s her!” : | ll tho bitter moments you have caused my to the camp. the coeied, rit to chon eine the Ione fala . ; .. ° ° ; ‘ cae gg for the coward’s blow that pec ag tg what is/to be seen, in this new | 4. only a curious crowd can do. ' pirit of ead mother, I swear it! Here io aor oor the vines was a fworstory pete h aa ina He a don’ hese robes gy Pag q oe) : with a red li over the door, and a ni i ota ; ‘aay page setiher ube canvas sign, iat wilh ta tornd printed: ‘ Ms the crowd set up a yell and started after vay , nde ae and swear that the name of “DUTCH DUFF'S 5 And even after she had got safely within the | dwood Dic unior shall become as great a ' DAISY SALOON! | | hotel they lingered around it, hoping to have 4 } or to evil-doers as was that of the man who | The Saloon had a frontage on the plaza—for | some more sport when she came out to go to the | _ There. Hear me, oh! ye, who keep the record | all the houses, etc., were built in a semi-circle— | Daisy Saloon. : s of vengeance—I raise my hand on high | of about thirty feet, and was considerably over In the mean time, a person who had got off — it! twice its width, in length. the stage walked toward the saloon in question—, we & dy xe , : j 2 ¥ ~