Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 385 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

. al 2 Wild Dick Turpin, the Lion of Leadville. revolver was fired, was again deceptive, but, looking to the top of the cliff, the leader of the party saw a man standing at the rock’s verge, Another moment and he began a rapid descent, leaping from rock to rock with what seemed mad disregard of consequences. A mis-step would hurl him to the very bottom, a lifeless mass of flesh; yet he came down like a mountain goat. His boldness and agility held the spectators mute until he reached the bottom of the gulch, and then he threw up one hand in mocking salute. **T am here!” he airily said. He was there, yet little could be seen of him. His form was fine, being muscular and graceful and was clad in a novel way. Black tight breeches met beaded Indian moccasins at the bottom, and a cut-away velvet jacket at the top; while over the breast of the jacket floated the loose ends of a flaming red necktie. An or- dinary miner’s hat met a mask which covered his face beyond recognition, and only that his agility showed him to be young; he might have been of any age imaginable, his man was no stranger by reputation in that part of Colorado. For some weeks all that section bordering Leadville had rung with the fame of an outlaw and road-agent who had giv- ena name chosen by himself—Dick Turpin, of Leadville, or Wild Dick as some named him. His whole career since his appearance had been in accordance with his sobriquet; the old Eng- lish robber whose name he had appropriated was not more daring and reckless than he. At the head of a band of road-agents he carried dis- may to the dwellers in the territory over which he rode. Every attempt to capture them had proved futile; as well might the officers have hunted so ' many wills-o’-the-wisp. Mounted on fleet horses, they easily outstripped all pursuers, or, when looked for in one place, appeared at another, many miles away. The whole region rung with the name of Wild Dick. His reckless bravery, dashing ways, po- liteness, and when he robbed ladies, his gallant- ry, were remarkable. Such aroad-robber had never before existed around Leadville, and as, curiously enough, he had never been known to shed human blood, there were many who secret- ly admired him. Sheriff Robert Bradstreet was not one of this number, and he had done all that man could do to hunt down the outlaw, but with no good re- sult. Finally there had come to him a letter, signed ‘* Dick Turpin, of Leadville,” which in- formed him that if he would come to a designat- ed point in Rattlesnake Gulch, at a specified time, he could meet and talk with the outlaw. The letter cautioned him against attempting violence or treachery, as it was to be a “* peace meeting,” and declared that though the writer would have an equal number of men at hand, ab at scrupulously refrain from any unlaw- act. It was achallenge which Sheriff Bradstreet would not refuse, so there he was, and there was the man he had come to meet. ‘* Welcome, sheriff!” the road-agent added, ‘‘Tt is not often we meet, but old friends do not for ee each other.” ths nda Bick ae suppose you are ther ic at? ,0 Leadville, s0 called,” suggested the sheriff. am. ‘Won't you remove your mask?” ‘Thank you, I couldn’t think of it,” and the outlaw laughed lightly. “*So noted a man ought not to be ashamed of his face.” : “We will waive that point and come to busi- ness. What do you want of me, Sheriff Brad- street?” : “Tt was you who appointed the meeting. You said that you were ready to treat with me, from which I inferred that you wished, possi- bly, to surrender,” : ‘Did you, really?’ laughed Wild Dick. ‘Well, I will surrender—on one condition.” ‘¢ What is that?” ‘** Absolute pardon from the Governor of the State, and an unrestricted title to Leadville and all that it contains.” ‘* What mummery is this? Do you really ex- pect anything of the kind?” “Certainly not; I merely state my nap bene and let you do as you see fit. As for whyI call- ed you here, I know that hope deferred makes a man bilious, and as you’ve so long been hunt- ing for me, I thought that politeness required me to grant an interview.” Bradstreet frowned, and barely controlled the impulse to draw a revolver. ; “Well, sir,” he answered, “‘ since you have nothing to say, I hereby order you, in the name of law, to surrender.” “When?” ** Now!” “My dear bailiff, I can’t think of it; this is not a business session, but a friendly conference. At any other time you can have me by the tak- ing. B You have run an unusual career around this place,” continued Bradstreet, his fingers playing nervously on the rein, ‘‘ but the Gey of your kind around here is past—or ought to_ be. Leadville has advanced too far to be bullied by road-agents. You have had rare luck in es-! fore. T believe they do not know that you are caping capture, but it will come sooner or later, : from old Kentucky?” if you persist in your course, The best thing you can dois to get out of Colorado as fast as you can go.” “Oh! but I thought you were going to cap- ! ture me.” The light, mocking laugh which followed this retort stung Bradstreet to the quick. ‘*By my life!” he exclaimed, ‘*I don’t know why | don’t. True, I promised you freedom from molestation, but [’'m not sure that an officer should keep the lightest promise with one of your kind. I don’t know what is to prevent my cap- turing you now.” The sheriff’s hand rested on the pocket where he carried his revolver, and the light of a feverish desire to secure this noted outlaw was in his eyes. But Wild Dick laughed again. ** Unlike you, [ know what is to prevent. It is my humble self. Do not finger your revolver my dear friend, for, before you could draw it, I should shoot you dead. Perhaps you’ve heard what I can do with sixes. Perhaps you know that I am sometimes called the ‘ Lion of Lead- ville.’” The laugh was gone, and the outlaw’s voice rung out with steel-like inflection as he drew himself erect, his eyes glittering at the sheriff throught the holes in his mask. Bradstreet sat sullenly on his horse, silent and motionless. He had heard of Wild Dick Turpin’s shooting. Nobody could say that they had ever seen the man kill, or even severely wound, a human being, but many a robbed traveler had a tale to tell of Turpin’s wonderful feats with re- volver and rifle, ‘* Well,” the official finally said,” I can’t see that this meeting amounts to anything, what- ever. ‘*Mr. Bradstreet, will you kindly step aside with me? I have a word for your private ear. One moment the sheriff hesitated; then he made a quick gesture and rode away from his men. Turpin kept beside him, and they paused when beyond hearing of the others, Bradstreet being wary and alert, and the Lion of Leadville wholly at ease. So far as casual glance could reveal he was alone, but the officers felt sure that the vines which fringed the cliffs held men enough to back their leader. ** Sheriff,” abruptly continued the masked man, ‘*T believe you have on your force a person call- ed Jude Peterson—he who is sometimes called the ‘ Police Spy.’” , ‘*'We have such a man,” **Do you trust him?’ ** Tmplicitly.” ‘*The more fool you, then, Did it never oc- cur to you that this Jude may be like the first Judas on record? The name is suggestive of treachery.” ‘** Peterson’s name is Judah,” ‘*TIndeed! Even that is questionable, but we will let it: go. Let me _ speak of his character. However much you may trust the fellow, I know him to be not only a rasca] in a general sense, but false toyou. Sir, your trusted spy is the bi rascal in Colorado, in that he uses his official position to work his base ends. I make bold to say that I am not the only law-breaker around here whom you can’t catch. Why is it that the minor rogues of Leadville elude you so successfully? Ill tell you why. Jude Peterson is their bosom friend, and he gives them the ‘tip’ which keeps them out of our reach.” The sheriff had vainly tried to interrupt, and he now broke forth explosively: “Are you a fool, as well as a villain? The gen- tleman whom you malign is my personal friend, and as bonest a man as ever lived. You might as well defame the mayor. Of course you have a grudge against Peterson,” ‘T have,” frankly admitted the outlaw. ‘‘If T had none, do you sup I would betray him? Hardly! But Ihave told the truth. Jude Peter- son is a traitor to you,” ** Rubbish!” ** You refuse to believe me?” o Fae: ““Then go your own gait, my gentleman. Yet stay, stay; you are an honest man, Robert Bradstreet, and I would not willingly see you ruined. Jude Peterson is dangerous to you in more than one way. Probably you don’t suspect his real name.” “One thing I can clearly see: you want to ison my mind against him. It won’t work, owever; I do not forget that it comes from Dick Turpin.” f The sheriff spoke warmly, even intemperately ; and the Lion of Leadville made a quick gesture. ‘““The Bradstreet blood was ever hot.” “Indeed! Perhaps you are going to charge me with some misdemeanor?” Bradstreet was an honorable man, but he was still young, and had not learned to govern his ear with the skill of maturer years. He : Jude Peterson, and believed that Wild Dick spoke against him only to remove from the police force a man whom he feared, ‘We won’t go into details,” was the outlaw’s ck reply; ‘‘but it may be I could tell people about here what they have never suspected ie | ne Simple as the words were they were enough to make Sheriff Bradstreet start back as though he had received a blow. His expression changed, and became one of dismay. “Jude Peterson knows it, though,” Wild Dick coolly added, ‘‘ and that’s why he’s in Lead- ville; that’s why he has attached himself to you. Beware of him!” ° ** Man or devil!” exclaimed Bradstreet, ‘‘ what do you mean? Off with that mask, that I may see your face!” ‘Thank you, but I again decline. Better devote your time to unmasking Jude Peterson.”’ ‘Always that name!” angrily cried the sheriff. ‘**Can you speak on no other subject? What is Jude, that you eternally harp on his name?” (© So you would have it! Well, be itso. Jude Peterson is but an alias for one of the Gregersons of Black Run?” CHAPTER. II. WILD DICK’S BOAST, BRADSTREET recoiled again, and this time his expression was one of more dismay than before. He glanced nervously about the gulch as though he expected to see a foe spring from cover and confront him, and then his gaze wandered back to the Lion of Leadville. Eyes and face were flaming with excitement, and he hoarsely exclaimed: ‘*T have called you ‘man or devil,’ but man you are not, Devil, then, I will see your face, though the sight costs my life or yours!” He started forward with hand outstretched to tear away the mask, but in a flash a revolver gleamed in Wild Dick Turpin’s hand and the muzzle was turned full on Bradstreet. One touch on the trigger would have left Leadville minus a sheriff, but that official was not utterly mad. Once more he paused. ‘* Be sensible,” suggested the outlaw, coolly. ‘Why does all your anger flame against me ? What matters it who has warned you, as long as you now know the truth concerning Jude Peterson? Bah! that name isa mockery, Give the man his true name—call him Gregerson. Possibly your heart don’t beat so tenderly to- ward your dear friend now.” ‘“‘T will not believe you. You are the man I have to fear.” ‘*The Bradstreet blood was ever hot.” ‘‘ Again that old saying. Dick Turpin, who are you ?” ‘*'You haue named my name.” ** Are you a Gregerson?” ts No. ” ‘*T believe that you lie!” The outlaw made a sweeping gesture. ‘*Enough!” he said, coldly and haughtily. “Wen talk no more, Sheriff Bradstreet. I called you here to listen toa solemn warning, and now may your folly be on your own head, I have no more to say, and, with your permis- sion, we will end the interview. I suppose it will be hard for you to see me go, but don’t get too eager; I have men concealed in the vines which cover the cliffs; even now more than one eye is glancing along rifle-barrel. At one mvve- ment of treachery on your part, they fire.” Bradstreet’s thoughts left personal affairs. He only remembered then who his companion was. “Tt is‘a bitter pill to let you go, Dick Tur- pin,” he said, ‘‘ but my word of honor is pledg- ed and I will not break it. "You shall go with- out molestation, but you have not seen the last of me, have resolved to purify this region, and I will yet bave you in irons!” The outlaw had turned partly away, but he now faced about suddenly. ** Do you mean it?” ‘I swear it!” ; ‘“‘ Sheriff,” was the quiet remark, ‘‘ you will never see that day, but, one month from now, I will enter Leadville and deliver myself as your i unless before then I shall have been in e heart of your place of Sih) and given you irrefragable evidence that I can laugh at you, go and come amid your traps and trappers, and hoodwink those whom you think second in wit only to yourself.” "This is empty talk.” ; ? . oa von carry a knife? ** Will you exchange with me?” “With what pu ose?” , ‘I will place your knife on top of your own desk, in your own office.” Bradstreet quickly drew a long-bladed knife. ‘“‘T want none of your Lege or Da sir, but here is what you mention. Place that where you say, and I will admit that you are sharper than an other man I have met; but Pll wager my life that I place irons on you before you do what you n ee nothing. It isn’t safe, and is a bad habit. heriff, don’t forget what I’ve said, for there is no chaff in the wheat. Farewell!” Like an arrow the bold outlaw sprung to the side of the steep cliff, and then, with wonder- ful strength and ity, went leaping from rock to rock, cig nts nearing the top. Brad- street looked at in amazement. So might oeKe) a . “Ser. 4 v + (E(o) agiiiCe ) ON ee