Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 294 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

a — — a ‘ Per Broadcloth Burt, the Denver Dandy. 3 He reached the porch, and then wheeled upon | the men who still stood by him. , “Suthin’s goin’ ter happen, suthin’ bloody!” he said in a mysterious whisper. ‘‘ Deadwood’s oin’ ter hey a time. In the first place thet alt Lake crockadile creeps inter town, then hyar comes a bandbox dandy what knows him, and now the register of the Setemup shows thet another stranger bez arrived. It means some- thin’; I know it. That slick cuss from Denver in thar is a cool one. Didn't you see how he lifted old Timothy Tenwives out ov his chair with a word? We've got ter stand togetber an’ play the game ov rule er ruin cl’ar out. Dead- wood fer Deadwood’s pards, an’ no one else! Broadcloth Burt pretends he doesn’t know who ‘A B. M. from I.-G.’ is, but since he knowed the Mormon on sight, I doubt it. Pards, we stand together! We'll show this fashion-plate from Denver thet thar’s thunderin’ good shootin’ in Deadwood, an’ that our graveyard kin ac- commodate a few more without takin’ in more territory.” The expressions of approval that greeted the conclusion of Paradise Paul’s harangue made his eyes glow with a half savage delight. ‘*Let the Mormon go fer awhile,” continued the Deadwood tough. ‘“‘He’s up-stairs now tremblin’ under: his bed. Ef he gets out ov town without worse than tar an’ feathers this time, kick me fer a football. This last indi- vidual puzzles me more than the othertwo. I know who Timothy is—I know that Broadcloth Burt came from Denver; but hyar’s a man who writes his name in capitals and tries to act a mystery. Durn me! ef I'll standit. The deep- est mystery in Deadwood shall be made as clear as noonday,”’ Leaving the crowd to fall to pieces, or remain together, just as pleased its fancy, Paradise Paul turned on his heel and walked rapidly down the narrow thoroughfare among the rough shanties that made up the capital of the Black Hills, He was the acknowledged leader of the tough citizens of the place, the king of Deadwood roughs, and out of more than one fierce en- counter unrecorded on these pages, he had emerged unscathed, but not with bloodless hands. His lengthy strides carried him rapidly over the ground, and soon brought him before a house in whose open door stood a beautiful girl of eighteen. This person had blue eyes of the deepest hue, an oval face, with here and there a reas | freckle, and long brown hair which was wealt of itself. “The stage got in some time ago,” she ex- claimed, catching sight of Paradise Paul. “I have been waiting for you.” ; “That makes no difference. I came in on Here stage,” answered the tough, halting at her side. ** Who else came?” Paradise Paul looked the girl in the eye before he ay se **One ov those men who never do Déad wood any good,” and he shut his bronzed hands as he uttered the words madly. ‘‘ Think ov a pair ov kid gloves in Deadwood, Alice,” and he laughed coarsely. | ‘‘He must be a Denver sport,” she suggested. “That, an’ more. Look hyar. Have you seen any body strange since last night?” e “Yes, you, Alice. These hev got ter be times in Deadwood, when fer the reputation ov the town nothin’ must be kept back, [ hev told ou about the man from Denver. Now who ev you seen?” “The man you ran off last summer.” “That infernal Mormon wolf!” Paul’s words made up a biss. Paradise ** Yes, he is back again, an’ on the same mission that fetched him hyar last er. He wants ter make you the eleventh Tenwives, Alice.” The girl t into aringing laugh in which she showed two rows of milk-white teeth. ‘““You always say that, Paul!” she cried. ‘What kind of an addition would I make to a Mormon elder’s family already ruled by ten uarrelsome women? Just a! me the eleventh Mrs, Timothy Tenwives! They'd tear me up in five minutes, Paul. There’s no danger, I guess.” ‘The air’s full ov it, Alice,” warned the Dead- wood tough. “You have told me that you have es “i rotten carkiss. Whar war he at the time? ‘*He came down-street this morning.” ** An’ saw you?” “IT think not, I went into the house and closed the door the moment I set eyes on bim. He certainly did not see me.” ‘*Those Mormon spiders kin almost see a woman whar thar ain’t any. He war spyin’ the land then. Alice, you listened to thet Salt Lake leper last summer. He almost made you b’lieve a lie about yer mother. He's hyar with a new stock ov lies, an’ he only wants an oppor- ¢unity to deal ’em out to you. It means suthin’ when two such men as Timothy Tenwives an’ Broadcloth Burt land in Deadwood about the game time. town.” | But thar’s a third stranger in apostle of ‘* Another wife-hunter?” smiled Alice, *T wouldn’t be surprised,” was the answer. ‘* What’s his name?” **A B. M. from I.-G.” Alice looked into the face of Paradise Paul, which had a sober expression, and for a mement threatened to try a second a ‘It’s no laughing matter, Alice,” he said, as his hand stole suddenly to her wrist and fasten- ed there. “I’m going to find out what those letters’ mean, an’ that afore mornin’, even if I hey ter force the truth from the man what | kill Mormons on sight? made ’em at the muzzle ov my revolvers! ah | this, Timothy Tenwives.” s he didn’t the hound register his own name?! ashamed ov it?” At that moment the Deadwood tough dropped the wonder. at sight of his visitor, who was none other than the elegant Denverite, on whose countenance a faint smile was to be seen, “You beat creation for traveling around,” remarked Broadcloth Burt, fixing; bis eyes on tbe polygamist, ' i / ; i | ' ; *Can’t you enlarge your harem without coming to a section of the coun- try where the life-of a Mormon isn’t safeffora minute? And don’t you know that these peo- pe round about you believe that the Mountain Meadows massacre has given them a right to You certainly know ‘“ And what if I do?” resented the Mormon. ‘Isn't this a free country, and baven’t 1 aright to leave Utah when business calls me eise- irl’s wrist and uttered an exclamation of | where?” ‘* Business!” ejaculated Burt. ‘‘ You call the “The Rockerville stage; an hour ahead of | enslaving of women business, do you?’ Broad- time, too,” said Alice. ‘* Look, Paul; there’s only One passenger in the old box this time.” Paradise Paul’s eyes told that he bad already seen the sole occupant of the dingy old stage which bad just swung into view and was almost abreast of them. “It’s a woman, Paul!” cried the girl. At that moment the single passenger leaned out of the stage as if she had caught sight of the two persons in the doorway, and sung out: ‘*‘I’'m here to stay, my sweet galoots of Dead- wood! Oh, I’m the blushin’ daisy of the moun- tain top. An’ don’t you forget it!” Alice laughed, but Paradise Paul—he clinched his hands and hissed: “She here, too? What will the end be now?” CHAPTER III. . FACE TO FACE, THE Rockerville stage disappeared in a cloud of dust, but some magnetic force seemed to hold Paradise Paul to the spot. ‘*Did you know the passenger?” asked Alice. Her voice broke the spell. **Know her? I should think I oughter,” was the growling answer. ‘“‘ Mebbe I war wishing thet tigress in Frisco, er somewhar else! But hyar she is, ez lively ezacricket, an’ madder’n a hornet. Yes,” through his clinched teeth, “I know that woman!” The beauty of Deadwood did not reply. ‘She saw the mad lightnings that opened up the depths of Paul’s eyes and held her peace. “They all’hed to git byar at once—byar in Deadwood!” he grated, this time under his breath. “ But by the eternal Jove! they can’t exist hyar long.” He started off with the last words, and got beyond the reach of the white hand that would have detained him. “Stay inside the shanty, girl,” he sent back over his shoulder, and the next moment Para- dise Paul was gone. The shades of night were gathering once more in Deadwood, and Alice was not per- mitted to watch the retreating figure of Paul long, for it soon disappeared, and she was the only person visible on the thoronghfare. “TF he knows that woman and hates her,” murmured the girl, “‘something bad brought her to Deadwood just at this time. I know that he never hates for nothing. But I could not help laughing when he mentioned the Mor- mon’sintentions. I Timothy Tenwives’ eleventh wife? The idea is too ridicu ,” and Alice broke out into a merry laugh all to herself, ‘I cannot think that the old polygamist would have the temerity to htint for a wife among the roughs of Deadwood who hate everything Mor- mon, and who have resolved that none of that sect shall be allowed in the town. Yet be is here, although they tarred and feathered him last summer, and sent him away with a lariat’s noose around his neck. The hardihood of some men is beyond comprehension. An important mission of some sort must have brought the lygamy back to Deadwood. Yes, Alice, an “important mission” has fetched Timothy Tenwives to the Black ‘Hills capital, and if you knew that you were the cause of his coming, your laugh might termin- ate abruptly. What had become of the representative of Mormonism? | The reader had witnessed his sudden retreat from the porch of the Setemup under the potent influence of Broadcloth Burt’s brief sentences, and equally familiar to him is the scene that followed the Denverite’s invasion of the hotel and introduction to Colonel Sandbank, its pro- prietor. We go back to the hostelry for a few mo- ments, for while Paradise Paul conversed with Alice his ward before the door of his cabin, a somewhat interesting scene transpired under ‘the colonel’s roof. Ten minutes after his sudden move from the orch Mr. Timothy Tenwives of Salt Lake ound the privacy of his room invaded by a nny) who entered without announcement of any n | oo. TE The Mormon elder almost sprung to his feet \ “ . ¥ 4 4 ni” ° : i» as el ‘ t. “a i, oie ‘F . a y « a on ae Us a a Lm 8 ee. ee ee eee = “SS er cloth Burt stepped toward the Mormon as be uttered the last words. ‘' What did I tell you down on the porch? I mean now every word | said then. on came here last summer after a wife, an’ you’re here again for the same pur- e. The best thing you can do its to put nonioons behind you between two days, Don’t attempt to play the game through, Yuu are a dead man if you do!” Timothy Tenwives did not take his eyes from the Denverite for a moment while he spoke. He sat on the three-legged stool on which he had been surprised by his visitor, and gazed steadily into bis face. ‘* Who told you that I’m ona wife-bunt?’ he meekly asked. “Who had to tell me?’ said Broadcloth Burt. “Your very presence here gives you away. You have your eyes on the most beautiful woman in Denbedéd- you want to ruin the fairest flower that blooms in the Black Hills country. Timothy Tenwives, you’re meaner than the meanest snake that ever crawled. You would take her back with you to a fate worse than death, for, if reports are true, your household is a hell on earth. An’ yet you ae drag this young girl thitber an’ make er beast-like self. l’ve never seen the young crea- ture in all my life. Strange as it may seem, this is my first visit to Deadwood, but by hea- vens! you sha’n’t touch ber. You sha’n’t drag ber from her home if it isn’t a palace, nor if her guardian ts the king of the Deadwood toughs. She’s a stranger to me, but she’s a wo- man; that’s all I want to know. You'd better go back to your peaceful household, to the bosom of your devoted family. You can’t win in Deadwood. I repeat that it may be death for you to try!” The coolness with which these words were spoken was enough to convince the wife-bunter that he Shad to deal with a man who, despite nerve. From beneath his dark overhanging lasbes he glared madly at the man who bad come be- tween him and his purpose, and it was evident from that look that more than threats would be needed to turn bim from bis purpose. | ‘‘ Then,” he said, in the voice of a cowed and disappointed man, ‘‘ then I suppose I'll bave to go back. But I shall Jeave Deadwood under rotest. I maintain that nobody has a right'to interfere with my business.” ‘They have!” cried Broadcloth Burt. | ‘‘ You forget, old sinner, that human slavery is ahol- ished in this country.” ‘‘ May the Saints support Timothy Tenwives if his bousehold isn’t the abode of love and peace! From mornin’ till night sweet effection reigns in all its various apartments—” ‘No lies here!” interrupted the Denverite. ‘You'll need ’em somewhar else. Don’t lL know that one of your loving wives hung berself in our house, that two more ran off, and that one s in the mad-house? Talk to a stone image about love and harmony in your household, you old scoundrel; but please don’t tackle me.” Thus confronted, the Mormon elder seemed to wilt. “ There are always those willing to asperss 1. ? character of the good,” he whimpered. “Isbaii not lift my hand against the perverse Gentiles.” ‘* Probably you’d better not. Lt will soon be dark,” and the Denverite stepped to the only window the little a ment contained, ‘You're not here afoot, 1 hear, an’ that mule of yours can put miles between you an’ Dead- wood before mornin’ if he bestirs himseizZ. It might be healthy for you to move along. This climate isn’t a good one for Mormon elders. They’re apt to suffer indignities at the hands of those same ‘ perverse Gentiles.’ Somehow or other, that Mountain Meadows business sticks in the eraws of the average American, if it did happen years ago.” e Pl 50,” said the Mormon, rising. ‘“ I'll shake the dust of Deadwood from my feet for- ever.” “Tf you stay somebody else might shake it off for you.” The man from Denver paused almost abrupt- ly, for his attention had been suddenly drawn to the stage which bad just drawn up in front of the hotel. miserable for life just to gratify your ? his kid gloves and broadcloth, was a man of | mare ComiGcbook 20