Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 971 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

16 se “Deadwood Dick, J r. 8, Oathe front teeth, and, behold! he was the man whom John Dixon had gone down to the stage to meet on the preceding morning! ‘Phil Parson!” cried the crowd. “Otherwise Ryan Whitley,” assumed the doctor. ‘‘ Do we look like brothers?” There was no mistaking the relation- ship. There was a striking resemblance that was not to be doubted. As for Mayor Eastwood, he could only stare, seeming to have lost the power of speech. He was deathly white, and was trembling from head to foot. Guilt was stamped on every feature. “Yes, I will vouch for that,” said the Chinee servant, dropping his make-be- lieve and speaking English the plainest. “Who be you?” some one demanded. The seeming Chinee removed his hat, took off a spring that had been applied just over his temples to make his eyes appear oblique, and allowed his face to assume its natural pose. “You will hardly recognize me, even yet, I suppose,” he said, “ without my mustache and my hair—for I had my head shaved in order that there might be no discovery of the cheat, but I am Duplex John, whom you came near send- ing’ to death for a crime I never did.” There was a shout at that. “More than that,” added Ryan Whit- ley, “‘ he is the famous Western detective known as Deadwood Dick, Junior.” “ At your service,” said Dick, bowing, “though my own mother would hardly recognize me as I am at this moment. Yes, I am Deadwood Dick, and this man is my best bower!” He indicated Ryan Whitley. At mention of the name of Deadwood Dick, Peter Eastwood’s head had fallen and he uttered a moan. For a little time the crowd carried on like wild people, but presently some- thing like order was again restored, and when Ryan Whitley could make himself heard, he said: “ Gentlemen, I am about to try an ex- periment. Will you kindly bring out the tables and chairs, the same as you had them here yesterday morning? If so, I will mount the tables so that all may have a chance to hear and see what is done. It is my desire to prove the charge I have made.” It needed no further urging. Willing hands speedily carried eut the request, and the temporary platform was again in place. Mounting this, Ryan Whitley directed that the prisoner be brought up, and also the demented survivor of the mys- . terious massacre, which directions were obeyed. These were seated, and Ryan ad- dressed the crowd. He had told them nothing false, on the previous night, con- cerning his knowledge of medicine and science. For five years, nearly, he had been devoting himself closely to both. He felt that he knew something in those branches. He felt assured that he could, by the power of hypnotism, restore his brother to his right mind. If he could, it was altogether likely that the man’s reason would commence at the point where it had been lost to him, and that he would take up his life again from that point. Let us not dwell upon the details. With the silly man seated in a chair before him, the doctor bent himself to the task, the crowd looking on in silence, Even the prisoner—the man accused of that terrible crime—could but look on interested, albeit he was like death itself in appearance, There was some- thing terrible in its mystery. Of a sudden the demented man gave a ee —~— ee — — s -—- COC great start, pressed his hand over his eyes, and said rapidly: “Yes, yes; your word is enough, Dead- wood Dick. I know you will do what you promise. Listen: My name is Andrew Whitley. I discovered a rich gold de- posit over in Horsetail Gulch. {7 took a man into my confidence whom I sup- posed to be my friend. We made up this outfit and set out to take possession of my find. But, he was far from being my friend. An hour or so ago he and a pard of his attacked the rest of us, they having rendered our weapons useless, and shot us down like dogs. Not only that, but they blew up the train. They piled it as you see it, fired it, and then, with their boots over their arms, set off in that direction, leaving no trail.” He removed his hand from his eyes to indicate the direction he meant, and for the first time realized his surround- ings. He looked, stared, his face chang- ed expression twenty times in as many seconds. “He has spoken the truth,” spoke up Deadwood Dick. ‘“ He has taken up the thread of conversation where he dropped it five years ago when talking with me.” At that moment Andrew Whitley’s eyes rested upon Peter Eastwood. With a cry he sprang at his throat. *‘Villain, traitor, murderer!” he _ sib- ilated in his fearful passion. Others tried to interfere, but before they could do so the restored man had buried a knife in the villain’s breast! “Where is the other?” he cried. “Where is the fellow called Hot-head Smith? Let me find him, and I will serve him the same. He is the one who helped this man to kill my friends!” “Andrew! Andrew! Don’t you know me?” Ryan caught his brother and drew him aside, while the others lent aid to the man he had stabbed. “It is all up, all up!” gasped East- wood, as they tried to lift him. ‘“ He has given me what | merited, for it was as he has said. Phe hand of Providence is in-it; it is what I have felt would come sooner or later.” He told the story, little by little, while his life ebbed away. How he and Smith had planned the massacre for the sake of securing the rich find to themselves. How he had robbed Smith of any share in it, and had terrified him into silence. How he had been amazed, later on, to see Andy Whitley in the camp, but on find- ing that he was insane he had allowed him to remain; He had named him, and encouraged him in wearing a beard, had led him to take pride in it, and for that reason, no doubt, the man had been so quick to run to him to make known his loss. He admitted the killing of Hamil- ton, too, and of Smith, He had heard the conversation among Deadwood Dick, Colonel Nickerson, and Mr. Williamson, in the hotel at Phoenix —he was the man who had gone out shortly after, as described. He had then and there resolved to kill Deadwood Dick if he ever came to Paradise. When Dick came there, as Duplex John, he knew him, and began scheming to kill him or have him killed. , He heard Hamilton ask Dick to step up and get his watch, on that morning when Dick was going down to the road to meet the stage, and, like a flash, the scheme came to him. After Dick had left the cabin, he slipped in and mur- dered Hamilton, whom he hated any- how, feeling that he could easily put the crime upon “ Duplex John,” and so kill two birds with one stone. He had then 7 ——_- ~ (6-2. 25m ——e a -s : * QR F ELE FR year ie ae ; ae tht, : - Fe, ; DT PR RS SE ES UBT found it necessary to kill Smith for his own safety. He had barely told this much, when he died, and the rest was easily guessed or supplied. The people of Paradise could hardly believe that they were awake and not dreaming. The Whitley brothers had been in close and earnest conversation in the mean time, and by degrees Ryan had made known to Andy the lapse of time and all that had taken place. It was to Andy as if he had been asleep all that time, for he had not the slightest recollection of the role he had been play- ing all those five years. It was a glad awakening, to find his brother there, but it was hard to con- vince him that it was really true—that which was told him. Gradually, how- ever, he recognized the gulch, the loca- tion of the mine, and other features; but it was not until a visit had been paid to the scene of the massacre, later on, that the full realization of the lapse of time struck home to him. There all was changed, and little remained to tell the story. Colonel Nickerson, who was a man of great influence, and Mr. William- son, came up from Phoenix to hear and see for themselves, and it was no trouble for Andy Whitley to prove his claim, with such a witness as Deadwood Dick and the confession the dying villain had made, and he was put into possession of Paradise. There it was, intact, the greed for gain of the usurper having, as we have said, led him to hold fast to every foot of it. Ryan remained long enough to see his brother well established, and ‘to com- plete the medical work he had under- taken—especially in the case of Job Turner; then he took leave for home, where his immense practice was suffer- ing during his absence. He and Dead- wood Dick departed together, on the same day, and the camp could not do enough in their honor. All her citizens put on holiday attire, and there was a gala day in their behalf. Job Turner and Gil Rogers were head and foremost at everything, and declared that the camp could not do half enough for Deadwood Dick and his worthy pard. There was one thing to which Deadwood Dick took exception, and that was, to having his name mentioned first in con- nection with the case. “T have played second fiddle this time, my friends,” he declared., “ Ryan Whit- ley was best bower; give the credit to him. Through him my oath has been fulfilled,” THE END. Beaille’s half-Dime Library. 964 Buffalo Bill's Decoy} 0 or, The Arizona Crack Shot y Col. Prentiss Ingraban 965 ea Pick, Jr ‘a, Gold-Dusts or, Voleano Dan’s Degerter. By Edward L. Wheele 966 Elanting Jack Shubricks or, The Dupe’s Death-T rap. anugan. Ready January 28th. 967 She Reward; or, The Rival Reporters’ Sleek Sconp y J. C. Cowdaick, 968 Ruffalo BilVs Rush Rideg or, Sure-Shot, the High-Flyer. y Col, Prenties luograham. 969 The St Sport-Bhadower } or, Clark’s Close Shave, By Win. yater 970 Ahoy Abe th Dock *®h or, The Parson Sport’s M tdrhowe Mission. By Jo Pais vs : wise 40 9T1 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a, Oaths or, The Clown of Paradise Cump, Py Edward L. Whee 9T2 Fighting Jack's Weagaics. or, Dandy Dick’s Dash, By T. J. Flanagan. 978 Bantam Bllly, the Corker-Ferrets or, Dunk Duncan’e Double Drop. By J. C. Cowdrick. A New leaue Every Tuesday. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by al) newsdealers, five tents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York, | 900 com (e cS