Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 94 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

owe Se but the cayalry jacket which he had lately worn into Red Cloud’s camp had disappeared, and he was clad in habiliments seen oftener at the United States forts and in the frontier towns than among the canyons of the upper Missouri country. He cast a quick look behind at the mouth of the little natural cavern which he had just left, and then moved down the old river bed. “Don’t I know every foot of this old place?” he murmured. ‘T’ve n here before. There ’re precious few places iu this country I am not familiar with. The girl’s in the best quarters. She’s a veritable tigress; but Pll make a lamb out of her before I make her Mrs. Golden George. Any one with half an eye could see that they are brother and sister. said so—to myself—when I first saw her at Sully, and when the major told me that she was hunting for a lost brother, I knew [ could find him within twenty-four hours. But I didn’t—no, I didn’t. What am I hiding here for, anyhow? Tangle- foot has sold them out. Midnight will never settle accounts with Golden George; but I wish he knew before he passed in his checks, that I am going to keep the threat I made long ago. I thought I’d have to go East and court the girl there; but fortune brought her out here and put her right into my hands. What am I here for? Ah, yes! the agency. It is near at hand, and I want to see who are there before I take Dora down to rest for a few days.” Golden George was a goodly distance from the <i where fate had thrown Dora Lightway into his hands. He was conducting her south— to the dilapidated ‘‘ Indian Agency,” so called, but not now occupied by the government. But there were white faces there—a rough lot of fellows, and not a few villainous half-breeds, who always welcomed the alee to their midst. The gambler’s last visit to the agency had not ended in a tranquil manner. He had been com- pelled, in self-defense, to shoot a desperate char- acter, and then fly for his life. Since then ru- mor had told him that Nugget Noll had recover- ed. If he was now at the “ Agency,” George would avoid the spot; if not he could take Dora there, and keep her until he wished to go on and introduce his new sweetheart to Deadwood so- ciety. On both sides of this canyon were great fis- sures that led to the land above. Some were dark, and half-filled with a species of brushwood that seemed to have taken root in the very rocks themselves, while a streak of moonlight half revealed others, and made them less forbidding as sage-ways up or down. the dense little wood above, whose recesses were impenetrable even at noonday, the Sport had concealed his horse. To mount the animal and gallop to within a mile of the “ =i, Sos fe dismount and reconnoiter afoot, was Golden George’s intention. ‘‘T]l go up the light one,” he said, as he halt- ed at the foot of one of the fissures, and saw the stony footpath clear to the top. “I met a mountain-cat in a dark one once, and I’ve got since,” ’ Wi h his mind on the pretty girl—his last sweetheart—Golden George began to climb the narrow stairway. He held a revolver cocked in his right hand; but made no secret of his Why should he? should he oJ ust let me find Nugget Noll dead!” he said, expressing his thoughts aloud. “I had the dead-drop on him that time. Black Bill said he saw him last summer at Standin Rock Agency; but Bill is a chronic liar. dead- drop never failed me yet. Vd have got it on Midnight in the Indian town, if he hadn't got it on me. But it’s all right now! all right, Dora, my Houri!’’ ' Golden George was elated with his good for- une. ‘ As he went up, he passed dark holes in the sides of the walls. ‘Strange country, this. These holes look like devils’ dens, "The Indians say that they lead down to the bottom of the canyon, and if I was of an exploring turn of mind, I’d see about some of them, This canyon is full of them. Good places for a fellow like Nugget Noll to wait for the man he hates.” Golden George thought alone of his antago- nist of bygone days, and not of the man who, lying on the ground above, was waiting calmly for his coming. The dark eyes that looked through a clump of bushes at the top of the fissure flashed with tri- umph. They Ener the man who was slowly ascending. Golden George had climbed any other path on that side of t © chasm, the tiger would have received him; if he had scaled one Le ee - Midnight Jack, gee on the other side, a bullet would have brought him down. At last the hand of the Sport reached the bushes, then his head rose above the level, and— A low cry of vengeance and a hand at bis throat! The Sport saw his enemy, and started back. His revolver fell from his grasp, and went roll- ing down the stony way. There was another at his head—behind it burned the devilish eyes of Midnight Jack! Golden George did not try to articulate. He saw that the road-agent was leaning over the chasm, and, quick as a flash, he flung his arms up, knocked the revolver aside, and threw his body back. A wild oath fell from Midnight Jack’s lips; but though his body was dragged over the edge of the rock he did not loosen his gripe. The two men began to roll down the ravine, to the amazement of a brace of persons who had suddenly appeared above. But they soon disappeared, for the Sport’s foot caught on a rock and checked the momen- tum; not only this, but it jerked the deadly foe to one side, and they shot into one of the cav- ernous openings as if hurled there by some giant power! In the gloom they seemed to roll a great way downward, still clutching each other, but when they struck their gripes loosened, and they rolled apart. For a moment silence succeeded the sudden halt. Then the voice of Midnight Jack was heard. ‘We've met again, Golden! Both of us shall never leave this pit of darkness alive; one of us may. We were certain to fight a duel to the death some day. It was but a question of time. You have lost your revolvers; so have I. Have you got a knife?” “Yes!” came a voice from the gloom. ‘* Are you ready, Golden?” “Ready, Midnight,” ‘*So am I.” Unseen by each other the two foes dropped to the stone floor of the cave, and d:ew their knives. The darkness was so intense that neither could see his hand when placed within an inch of his face. It was an awful moment. The rivals of the West—the road-agent and the Sport—the beau of the city and the Apollo of the road—had met to fight to the death far from the scene of their conquest—met for the last time. CHAPTER XVII. A DUEL TO THE DEATH. ‘*CoME, boy, we'll go down an’ look fur ’em. They’ve grappled like b’ars an’ hey roll clar to the bottom!” Rube Rattler and Gopher Gid, somewhat sur- rised at the sudden disappearance of the two oes, began to go down the fissures. They be- lieved that the antagonists had swept around a bend, and kept on to the foot of the cliffs. The shadows lay thick against the sides now, and the hunters did not see the cavernous openings as they descended. They reached the bed of the cavern to find no signs of the men they sought. * Queer!” ejaculated the Screaming Eagle, throwing a look of blank surprise into the little trapper’s eyes. “It beats my time all holler! Didn’t Midnight catch Golden up thar, an’ did- n’t he pull’im over the edge? The airth must hev swallowed ’em. Jest take notice of the stilmess. Why, Gopher, we could hear a cricket walk,” The silence that reigned around them had al- ready attracted our young hero. He was about to reply when the borderer sprung suddenly to the strong wall that rose above them and put his ear to a little fissure not wider than a finger. ‘Come hyar, Gopher,” he said, in a startling whisper that instantly brought the lad to his side. ‘‘ This wall is holler, like a tree. Thar!” Gopher started from the wall with a look of astonishment distending his eyes. There were human voices inside the rock; he had heard them! ** Are you ready, Golden?” “Ready, Midnight.” ‘So am I.” For a moment Rube stared at the rock like a man suddenly bereft of his senses. ‘This is the devil’s work, Gopher!” he gasp- ed, seizing the little trapper by the shoulder. ‘‘ How did they get in thar? How? Why the rock Sea an’ swallowed ’em. Did you hear, boy? ey’re goin’ to fight to the death. Think eesti 15 atween Golden George and Midnight. Wouldn’t ye like to see it, boy ?” Gopher Gid’s eyes flashed. 3 Yes: but I'd rather find the girl!” he said. ‘‘T wouldn’t,”’ was the response. ‘ The fight— the fight! Well goup agin. Ef the hole that let ’em is open, we'll see suthin’ of thet death- scrimmage,’ The boy found himself dragged to the foot of the stony pathway by the excited and eager hunter, and the next minute the twain were as- cending. Meanwhile, into the gloom of the cavern into which fate had precipitated them, Midnight Jack and Golden George, face to face yet un- seen by each other, were approaching that com- bat which could not be avoided. They had once been friends; but a wrong per- petrated by the Sport had transformed them into rivals—enemies! And the Sport had vowed to wed the sister of Midnight Jack, even if he were obliged to court her in the luxurious par- lor of that home from which a father’s curse had driven the only son. Did the road-agent know that the bitter foe whom he faced knew where that sister was at that moment? No; but he believed that Dora was not far away. ‘The mystery of the bugle had almost ceased to bother him. They had come across the trail of Red Cloud’s band re- eh from the Agencies; and he had said to tube: *'That blast was blown by one of those In- dians. They found the bugle; and Mouseskin knows this now.” The blast which had startled what a fight it will be This was true, the quartette was blown by Indian lungs, and the Sioux boy was now following the band, hop- ing to recover his trumpet which had been amg up by one of its number, and now bung rom his girdle, Golden George, in a fit of rage at his beautiful captive, had flung the silver bugle far from the trail which he had made to- ward the canyon, But to return to the foes in the rock. Midnight Jack did not advance; but remain- ed where he had stopped. He knew the aggres- sive nature of the man with whom he was dealing. Golden George, in such a position as this, would attack, But nothing indicated his coming. The road- agent put out his hand and touched a wall, “Ha!” he thought, as he hugged it closely. ‘* He cannot attack from one side at least!” and he waited on. By and bya slight sound disturbed the silence. It sounded like the fall of a pebble from an in- significant elevation. Midnight turned quickly. He knew that Golden George had also found the wall, and that he was following it—coming towrrd him! No more pebbles fell to indicate the move- ments of the Sport, but Midnight felt the ap- 2S ag of a Presence which he could not see. le knew that Golden George was still following the wall, as surely as if he saw his every motion. Nearer and nearer came the Sport, stopping now and then to listen, only to advance again with a long-bladed Mexican knife in his right hand. Suddenly and noiselessly the road-agent stood up; but bent forward with eagerness, He knew where the Presence was. All at once the left hand of Midnight Jack which rested lightly against the wall above his head darted through the gloom with the swift- ness of a descending eagle, A wild oath followed; the Presence seized by that hand bounded from the stone floor, and a flash of fire succeeded. It was the meeting of the blades as the enemies struck simultaneously at each other’s heart, Midnight Jack did not relinquish the hold which he had obtained. Exerting all his strength he suddenly swung his foe to the left, and struck again in the gloom. But he miscal- culated the position of the Apollo’s heart, and his knife struck the stone wall to snap at the handle and drop with a ring upon the floor. A laugh of devilish triumph rung out in the gloom from Golden George’s lips, and before it ceased the road-agent turned like a tiger and fell with his full weight upon him. No human being could have withstood that onslaught. The blow that the + ov dealt as he went backward made a wound from which the life-blood of his foe spurted like a long nt-up tide; butit did not reach the heart for which he had intended it, The Sport was thrown from his feet, but he did not fall; the great strength of his adversary prevented, . ‘This is to the death, Golden—remember!” fell from Midnight Jack’s lips, the first words uttered in that cavern for many minutes, COMMIE OOO