Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 570 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

> 4 ‘* You looks like a sport clean through,” ‘*I gamble when I can get no work to my liking.” ** Will you drive the old cart on through?” ** Yes, if you wish it.” ** I does, for we has no one here, " But them Satan’s cubs got ther metal, you says?’ ‘Yes, they got the bag of gold, as I supposed it was,” ** They got a rich haul, for there was just ten thousand in that bag, and we thought we'd get 1t through all right. * But we didn’t, “Now, get some supper, for you and ther leddy, and git along on ther road, as you is be- hiad, but that hain’t your fault, for how you got tt rough as you did isa miracle from ’way- back Walf an hour after, holding the reins over a fresh team of horses, and with Isabel Drew a sain seated by his side, Donald King started on t.¢ Overland Trail to Flush City, and he flat- tered himself that he was going to enter the to vn under most favorable circumstances, hav- ing proven bimself a hero even among those will men of the mines. CHAPTER V. THE ‘‘ SPORTS’ PARADISE.” LYING in a valley, intersected with several $*;enuus more or less pretentious, and surround- ed by range after range of mountains, was a mining-camp kuown as ‘‘ Sports’ Paradise.” Ihe camp stretched along the valley for a couple of miles, rude cabins being scattered here and thera, some standing alone, and others grouped together, the latter presenting the ap- pearance of a hen with a brood of chickens, where one large structure would be surrounded by smaller ones, : Tbe larger structure was almost invariably a lodging house, combining also the saloon and inmate room, and called by a stretch of the imagination, a hotel. To the largest of these groups, and the largest structure in the valley, the stage driven by Kent Kingdon made its way early the morning following the death of Doc Dunning, the driver, at bis post of duty, ; This hotel was the end of that line of the Overland Trail, and the camp of Sports’ Para- dise was a rough place indeed, for there was neither law nor Gospel to be found in its pre- cincts, There the revolvér and bowie-knife reigned supreme, and when not at work hunting for gold, two-thirds of the community were ona spree, "Gold Dust Hotel was by no means a comfort- able abiding-place, but it was the best the camps afforded, and those not satisfied with bed or board under its roof, could go further and fare worse, Judge anaes was the landlord, and he was called ‘‘ Judge Dal” for short; but what he was judge of other than liquors and dead-beat miners, no one made inquiry. He was a man who had been long years in the mines, and was said to ba rich, but no one was sure of this, His own rgoms in the hotel were comfortable and there were acouple more also we fitted up, for the use of any stranger of distinction that might wish to pay an enormous sum for their use, The “ Judge” gave three square meals a day, anda cot to sleep on :n his regular rooms, but persons had to furnish their own bedding. He hac a large run of custom, sold more poor liquor than all the other ‘‘ hotels” in the valley together, and did athriving business in gam- bling in his spacious saloon in which was situ- ated the bar. 4 On the morning in question there were few persons about the Gold Dust doors. The miners were mostly all at work, but there were a few idlers about, waiting to see the stage come inand wondering how it was that Doc igi always on time, was several hours ate. The judge came out upon the piazza for the twentieth time and cast a look up the valley, where he expected to see the stage come out of the canyon and rull swiftly toward the hotel. ‘Something has happened, pards,” he said, sj espa’ the crowd in a general sort of way. ‘* Yes, I thought them cursed road-agents had kept quiet about long enough!” “I guess they have hit Doc this trip, and I only hopes thay hain’t kilt him, for I doesn’t know a man as c’u’d drive a hearse over them Camille, the Card Queen, ae ee mountains by night, as he kin!” said the stage | ‘** Donald King.” boss, a burly, ugly-looking fellow, but withal a kindly smile in his eyes, ‘* There she comes!” A perfect chorus of voices shouted the words, and their eyes were upon the stage, which, drawn by its six horses, just came in sight out of the canyon at the head of the valley. As it drew nearer, coming along at a good pace, some one called out: ‘* Doc’s got a gal on the box with bim!” ‘* Maybe he’s married,” said another. ** Yas, that’s why he’s abind time.” ‘* Doc’s a sly coon,” and so on ran the remarks of the crowd, until Judge Dal called out: ‘** Pards, that is not Doe Dunning on the box,” A closer look was now taken, and all were con- vinced that the judge was rigbt. Then too the stage had passed the spot where Doc always sounded his bugle-notes, to an- nounce his coming, and no sound had been heard, But a moment after, clear, ringing and well layed there sounded the bugle, which Doc Sanna who played on the instrument, hav- ing once heard an army bugle, always used in- stead of a stage-horn. There was a ring to the bugle, an artistic manner of playing it, which Doc Dunning had never equaled, and the idlers looked at each other in surprise, It is useless to say that it was Kent Kingdon playing the bugle, for he was a fine performer on the cornet and several other instruments. As the stage halted at the door all eyes were bent upon his bold, handsome face, and the beautiful girl by his side, ‘Who is Shasta Tom here?’ asked Kent eee quietly, glancing over the upturned aces, a ; am,” said the station boss, stepping for- ward, ‘*T have to report to you, that beyond the | Devil’s Leap we were attacked by half a score of | road-agents, and your driver fired upon them, ‘* | was inside with tbis lady, and also opened fire upon the robbers, killing two, as they sprung upon the box and the driver, and robbed the stage of a bag of gold, “The horses ran away, when Dunning was wounded, and 1 clambered up-on the box and checked them, and brought the coach in here. ‘* The poor driver is dead in the coach,” The story was coolly told, and it made an im- pression, and Kent Kingdon was sure of a hearty reception, The station boss asked him a few questions, after he had aided Isabel Drew to dismount and enter the hotel, and be answered them with the. air of aman who was used to scenes of danger and bloodshed. No one doubted the entire truth of his story, | and the body of Doc Dunning was taken into a room in the hotel to await burial, while Kent Kingdon made himself more solid with the crowd, for many had now arrived, by asking all to take a drink, in which, however, he did not join them. . ‘* Are you a miner, pard?” asked Shasta Tom, gazing admiringly upon him. ‘‘T nave come out here to hunt gold, pard.” ** Where from?” ** Texas.” “*T guesses you is educated then, coming as you does from them parts,” ‘“*T am no fool.” ‘Your bands don’t look like they’d do much heavy work,” “The gold-bunting I do will not hurt my hands,” was the signiticant pig hs ‘* And yet you did what no other man in these camps coula do, now Doc’s gone, when you brought that old coach through the mountains by night.” ‘Tt was a rough drive, but I understand band- ling the ribbons,” ‘*Could I bargain with you to drive back ain to where you can get a man to fill Duc’s place? ‘‘Tf you have no one to go, I will do so with pleasure, to belp you out; but for the trip only,” | —— —— ‘*T'll ask no more, for one of the men at the main line can take her then, and come through by day over the last part of the trail until he learns the way well. ‘‘How many Troad-agents did you say ther was, pard?” ‘*T saw seven, and killed two.” ‘You're a trump; bnt they got thé gold” _ Yes; if was while fighting to save it that Doe Dunning lost bis life,” ‘** Oh, he’s a brave one; but you be too, “* What’s yer handle, pard?” ; cn - iP 1\ : \ g Vy ; -” rE m7 % ~~ COoOmicpbDooKsS.co J : in FO. wae ; . | j »~ y IN a BX a , ; 4. ave he =. CS 7. WV | . * ~ wee Aa ieee ae: Ee sha Vi “* And is ther pretty lady your wife?” | ** No, I never saw her until I took the stage: to this place, ‘** She has come here to seek her father; but now I'll hunt something to eat,” ‘‘Here’s the judge, and Ill interdooce yer,” and Shasta Tom took pride in introducing to. the landlord: ‘*My friend, Donald King, jedge, and a man clean through.” CHAPTER VI. A MINER’S STORY, ISABEL DREW’s sweet face at once won the ° hearts of all who saw her, rough as many of her admirers were, and the judge gave her the very best room in the hotel. The next best Kent Kingdon engaged for him- self, and told the juage to spare no pains and expense in fitting them up. e also told the judge that the young lady was: under his protection, and to care for her to the best of his ey | He had urged Isabel not tospeak of the nature: of her business in coming to Sports’ Paradise, but to leave all in bis hands, and he would find her father for her, commencing the search as soon as he returned from driving the stage back to where another driver could be obtained, The next day he rolled out of Sports’ Paradise seated on the box. and was sent off on his long and dangerous drive by rousing cheers from the crowd, who had set him down as “‘ no tender- foot,” but a hero. He raised bis slouch hat politely, and glancing: over his shoulder saw Isabel at tne window way- ing her hand to him. ‘ That is a maiden to win hearts. ** She’ll be useful to me,” he muttered, and he: sent his horses along at a swift pace, The hours passed by and he was in the very heart of the mountains when suddenly he saw a man appear in the trail before bim, He quickly drew rein, for he at once set the man down as a road-agent, But the stranger, doubtless understanding that. be was regarded with suspicion, raised bis hands above his head, as though to show he had no evil intention. cha on slowly, Kent Kingdon called out: ‘* Ho, pard, is it peace or war?” ‘* Peace every time, pard, for I wants to ride with you,” was the answer. : The stranger, Kent Kingdon saw, was a miner, and one who looked like an honest, hard-work- ing man. ‘Get up with me, then,” he said, and the man clambered up to a seat on the box, while, pert at the handsome, well-dressed driver, e said: ‘‘'You is a sport to handle the ribbons, for you looks it.” In a few words Kent Kingdon told how it was. that be was driving the coach, and the man asked: ** Did look for ** Yes.” ‘‘Now I’m agoin’ Hast to see a gal whose father is my pard, and who is a-dying with con- “eal ht and wants her to come out and see im, ‘* He left her at school in York State, and he’s struck it rich and has got a big pile 0’ dust laid away and only the gal to leave it to, and he wants his darter to come and see him afore he dies, and so I goes arter her,” be ‘“ And your friend, did you leave him alone in his cabin?” ; ‘Yas, for he kin take keer 0’ himself ontil I gets back, as he’s able to git about, and I left ou say the gal had come out here to er father?” food and wood in plenty for him.” : i s ‘What is his name, pard?’ “David Drew.” Kent Kingdon started. The meiden’s name was Isabel Drew, he re- membered, ‘* And his daughter’s name?” “He called her Belle, but his letter to her is addressed to Miss Isabel Drew,” ‘‘Ah\” and the adventurer smiled serenely, for matters seemed to be going bis way, ‘* You say he has struck it rich?” | ‘* Yes, pard, and he has sent a heap might o° gold to be deposited in the bank, and wrote to his lawyers and sent his will, leaving the gal all he has dug out 0’ the mine; but he wants to see her all the same, and kiss her afore he dies, so as_he were worrying over it, I just said as how I’d take the stage to the nearest railroad and then whoop it East, and come back bring- ing the gal with me, : ‘ vee r .