Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 365 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

“« It is not the Sacramento of to-day, perhaps, but thousands who still inhabit it, were there the night that witnesses the opening of our story. It is a night that inaugurates a new gambling- den, and witnesses the drawing of the famous El Dorado lottery. ; These two events help to make Sacramento livelier than usual; they form two themes for ao and everywhere they are discuss- The night is one of matchless beauty ; myriads of stars about a full moon that sails the skies like a full-rigged ship; soft winds and balmy air, While the streets were witnessing the scenes just described, a man was walking the floor of a certain room in the best quarter of the city. He would have attracted attention in any part of the world, and among the most common occurrences, not on account of his garments, which were plain, but because of his build and looks, In stature he was faultless, six feet tall, and molded like an Adonis. He had a splendid breadth of shoulders, an expansive chest, and magnificent limbs. observer at a first claimed; ‘‘ That man ox!” His face was smoothly-shaven and fresh from a razor; his eyes were rather large, intensely black, and penetrating. He wore a good deal of hair as tacks as his eyes, and it almost touch- ed his shoulders. He walked the little room from window to window with muchimpatience. A certain man- ner told that he was not in his own house, and it was evident that he was waiting for some one, More than once he glanced at the door that seemed to open into the street beyond, and once or twice his lips unclosed to mutter something in a fretful way. His hat, a big, broad-brimmed, dark som- brero, occupied the chair upon which he had doubtless cast it upon entering the room. It seemed as little at home as its owner. This man, who was not more than thirty-five, was not a citizen of Sacramento; he had the air of a free mountain rover about him; he looked like a man who could tell of more wild trails than one. At last the door opened and found him on his ceaseless tramp from window to window. ¢ He looked up, and in a moment had cover- » ed the person who had entered. ' ‘“T beg pardon, I am late; it was not my fault,” said the new-comer, in a musical voice, which stirred the fringe of the black mask she wore. The man had stopped and was looking at her, strangely interested; he had not expected to see one whose face was hidden, ** Aha! you didn't expect to see a mask when you came here from Shasta!” continued the woman, laughing. “That is true; I certainly did not.” a You are Keen Kennard, the Shasta Shad- Ow ‘*Men call me that sometimes.” ‘You look like a human sleuth-hound. They say you have never failed to unravel a mys- “T don’t know about that,” answered Ken- "big would have ex- as the strength of an nard, smiling faintly. ‘‘ We all fail some- times.” ** But you never do, Ah! I have heard, you see! He did not reply, but looked down into the brilliant eyes that shone behind the eyelets of the silken mask. **T didn’t more than half expect you,” the woman went on, ‘‘ You got my message?” “You did not know who Queen Moro was?” 6 No.” **Then why did you come?” ** Because you sent for me.” Me ‘The woman seemed to start at the tone in which the rey was spoken. “Ves, I did send for you!” she exclaimed, lancing furtively about the room. ‘‘T have peat work for you, Keen Kennard. I can send you on the strangest and biggest trail of ‘your life. Ican confront you with a mystery that will challenge your bravery and enchain Pg attention from the beginning. But I say ere that if you refuse to go, you can now re- treat. When once you have promised, ‘you to go on to the end.” ‘*T am here to work. I like to unravel mys- teries. Show me this great trail, as you call it. There never was a time when danger made Kennard out.” Keen Kennard spoke the last sentence with a show of pride. — **Go you shall, then!” cried the masked wo- man. * You must leave Sacramento to-night —rightaway.” ~ at have saa ie e pprlee gon , Gazing wonderingly at the cool man, the wo- man went to a handeemne bureau that occupied gue corner of the room, unlocked one of the drawers and took out a paper, and returning to the man, who had watched her closely, she held the folded document before him. expect ee — Fat a pene eee eee i a Em ig ee a ea ee eee lle. ee ‘‘T hold in my hand,” the strange woman said, ‘‘the solitary key of the biggest bonanza that ever existed. Dare you, Keen Kennard, undertake the search?” and she eyed him search- ingly. m are I?’ was the half-scarcastic answer. **Keen Kennard dares do anything that is legit- imate work for a detective.” She smiled. ‘‘ As I knew,” she went on. ** Well, as to this paper: it is the work, in dis- fens sentences of a mad and dying man—the ast of a band of five who had found somewhere —God knows where—a bed of gold that outshines the wealth of Ophir. Ten years ago five men left Gold Gorge Camp in search of what many called a myth—a mine somewhere in the depths of the Sierra Nevada. I know they foundit. IL would not have sent for you, Keen Kennard, if those five men had failed. After three years, the youngest of the band, a mere youth, came back to Gold Gorge camp. He was a pitiable object, a mere skeleton, starved, and raving crazy. Of course he created a sensation. Three years in the mountains! Think of it! For awhile nobody believed his ravings; he had spells of sanity, but then he was generally mo- rose and silent. At last the men who watched him began to catch glimpses of the pest They believed that the five men had found the great bonanza of the Sierras. Sentence by sentence Gilbert Golden put together when he thought he was not watched. At times he would write on slips of paper which he secreted in different places. ‘*T hold those papers in my hand. No matter how they fell into my power, Keen Kennard. They are here! One year after Gilbert’s return to Gold Gorge he mysteriously disappeared. Nobody seemed to know what had become of him. Men said that he had wandered away dur- ing one of his mad spells. Some laughed, and wondered if he hadn’t gone back to the new Ophir—to the mountain mine. In less than one month Gold Gorge camp did not have a sin- gle inhabitant. Every one was hunting Gilbert Golden. Here! look at these papers.” The woman, who ceased rather abruptly, laid the papers in Keen Kennard’s hand. Their touch seemed to send a thrill to the Shasta detec- tive’s heart. ** You will find a rude—a very rude—diagram on one of the slips,” she went on. ‘‘ You may discover what it means. The sentences read like the utterances of a madman, but they are just what crazy Gilbert Golden wrote. A part of the mystery is, that, since the men of Gold Gorge started after him, not one of them has been seen.” The Sierra detective walked to the little stand on which a lamp burned, and began to examine the rs. Af ve found the right man!” the masked woman murmured while she eyed him. “If I had scoured California I could not have found a better tool. It was a lucky day when I heard of the Shasta Shadow. He will find this mine— he will come back and lay its wealth at my feet; then—then! by the eternal heavens! I will be somebody once more. Then I can doff this silk mask, and make my enemies tremble. I feel like thanking heaven for sending me Keen Ken- nard!” The man from Shasta looked at the papers one by one, and laid them on the table as they were scrutinized. He gave the rude diagram—a jumbled mass of lines and figures—but a single glance, then, straightening suddenly, he turned upon the waiting and almost breathless woman. ‘It’s a pretty big job,” he observed, with a e. ‘*You refuse, then?” she exclaimed, darting forward. j ‘Did I say so?’ he asked, meeting her with a look that checked her in an instant. ** No, but—” ‘You feared I would, eh? What am I to have if I find this mine—if I ferret out the lost man of Gold Gorge Camp and get at the se- cret?” **The world, almost!” cried the masked wo- man. ‘‘ My God! Keen Kennard! throw the key to this bonanza at my feet, and any reward ae ask shall be yours. dare you to the trial! can only say that it exists somewhere among the Sierras. It may be guarded by the bowies of the men of Gold Gorge Camp. I will conceal nothing from you. The mine exists, You see it by the papers you have read.” . ‘Who are you, woman?” he suddenly asked. ‘*Let me look under this piece of silk and see who sends Kennard, the sta Shadow upon this strange trail.” His hand moved toward the silken mask ns he finished; but the woman recoiled with a : ud- cee cry. **No! Not for all California!” she exclaimed. ‘* Hind the bonanza, and then see me unmask! You may know me as Queen Moro. To you I am no one else now. Aha! Keen Kennard, brave as you are, you are appalled by the task I throw at your feet! Men have lied to me about you, after all. I amdisappointed. Queen Moro must look elsewhere for her bonanza pilot. Good-night!” Waving her hand at the astonished man, the Keen Kennard, the Shasta Shadow. woman turned toward the door as if about to leave him without further ceremony. ‘* Hold on!” he cried, and a bound carried him to herside. ‘‘I don’t know who you are. I don’t care! Witch, devil, or sorceress! you shall never laugh Keen Kennard down! Though your mine be beyond a barrier of death I will find it. I will find the trail of the lost man of Gold Gorge Camp, and follow it to the end! You shall know that Iam Keen Kennard the Shasta Hound—the man who never turns back from a trail!” She looked up into his face, her own black eyes full of fire and triumph. ‘**Dare you swear that?’ *“‘T dare! Here in the sight of Heaven—” At that moment the door flew open, and with a wildcry a beautiful young girl sprung into the room. ‘No! no! don’t take an oath which you can never, never keep!” she cried. ‘* There is no lost mine—it is a myth, and Gilbert—oh, God! he is lost, lost, forever!” Keen Kennard turned upon the girl and saw Queen Moro spring at her with the ferocity of a tigress. ‘* Don’t mind this child!” said the masked woman, clutching the girl madly, and ae her back. ‘‘ She is as mad as the youth of Gol Gorge was. Now, Keen Kennard, finish your oath!” The fair young girl seemed to wither in the the clutch of the silken mask; she appeared powerless to speak, and quailed under the wo- man’s glance, ‘‘T swear to find it!” said the man_from Shasta, ‘‘In the sight of Heaven, Queen Moro, I swear to throw this lost El Dorado at your feet if it really exists. I am Keen Kennard, who always finds!” **Go, then! To the new Ophir!” The girl’s lips parted to murmur in a gasp: ** And to death!” Keen Kennard did not hear, He seized his hat, waved his hand, and sprung away. ‘Tt is the strangest mission of my life,” he said. ‘‘ But by the eternal stars! the Shadow will find the substance, if it is in the Sierras, I'll begin right away!” CHAPTER II. THE ALCALDE OF RED EYE BAR. THE summer had passed and the slopes of the Sierra were taking on the rich tints of autumn. Life was busy there, as in the populous cities of the coast, and the ring of the miner’s pick came up from the depths of the gold hills which his adventursome spirit was ex ey In the deepest depths of the Sierra Nevada, from the foot of Mount Shasta to the southern- most limits of the gold range men toiled for the yellow ore. Camps sprung into existence like ee ic, and pas out of it like the dying of a ash, Man hunted man as much almost as he hunt- ed gold; the mining-camps were, for the most part, settlements that knew no law, and the lit- tle they did know was that dealt out by the vistol and noose of the Vigilantes, The alcaldes of the camps were often men who dealt out questionable justice for the further- ance of certain schemes of their own, and it is not surprising that in many places throughout the sierra, there was a reign of terror. Woman seldom penetrated to these ‘ buried camps,” as they weresometimes called. Themen tigers had_it all their own way. ow and then, however, the face of a mem- ber of the softer sex would appear in camp, but it always turned out to be the face of some characterless adventuress, who had turned her back forever upon refinement. There were a few women who rejoiced in the appellation of sorceress, and they generally ran things with a high hand in their peculiar and mysterious calling. They sometimes seemed to hold a spell of enchantment over the supersti- tious denizens of the camps they affected, and where some of their ‘‘ guesses” came true, they wielded a mighty power. At the foot of a lofty mountain wooded almost to the very peak stood a collection of little cabins which rejoiced in the name of Red Eye Bar. Its very existence was hardly known twenty miles away, and it was said to be a camp com- pletely ‘‘ buried.” The cabins, or log shanties, twelve in number and exactly alike, fronted to the south, or away from the mountain, so that Red Eye Bar had but one street, and that one with the houses all on one side, There were no signs of mining about this strange place, though its surroundings looked auriferous. The mountains and the gulches in- vited gold-hunters, but the keenest eye could not see where a pick had struck. . In the center of the camp and in front of a cabin stood a pole about ten feet high and nailed to it at the top was a pine board bearing this legend: ‘THis 13 RED EYE Bar! Git out 0’ HERE!” A single glance at the camp was almost enough to warn the stranger that it would be 7) com here “hy o-* O ‘ 7) =“ ; y qF ; L = ‘+