Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 385 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

ere es 2 — —— oon ous om Wild Dick | es we ee Turpin, the Lion of Leadville. | | . the chamois-hunters of whom he had read ascend | paused when, in the street he suddenly met a the steep ways of their rocky scene of operations, | peculiar-looking man who was gliding along Dici ‘Turpin soon reeched the top. He paused for a momeat on the verge of the cliff, waved his hand, uttered a clear shout, and then was pone from view. ~ Bradstreet looked after him in silence. He had seen many of the most noted of Western mon, but never one who impressed him as Wild Dick had done. Well had the wild outlaw chosen his sobriquet; he was as dashing and irresistible as his English prototype. Even at that, the sheriff instinctively muttered: ‘*is he man or devil?” Slowly Bradstreet turned back toward his men, There was a half-guilty feeling in his mind as he remembered that he had been within a yard of the Lion of Leadville, and then let him go; but, even if he had been inclined to disre- gard his promise that he wouid not molest the man, he felt sure that Dick’s statement that the cliffs concealed men of his band was no idle boast. Taking his place at the head of his men once more, thi sheriff led them back. They had many questions to ask, but little information did they get. The leader had relapsed into a thoughtful mood unusual to him, and their questions were curtly answered. ; Now that he had a chance to think quietly, the force of what Wild Dick had said influenced him greatly. for\ Not yet was he ready to think ill of Jude Pe- terson, the police spy, in any way; but, since the day when he crossed the Mississippi river, Brad- street had never told any man about his past life, and now the outlaw had shown that he knew more than the sheriff’s trusted friends, There was that in the past which Bradstreet had hoped would never again be referred to in his presence. As had been intimated, he was from Kentucky, and when he left there he had fled rapidly, traveling day and night. After all this lapse of time, he was beginning to breathe freely; to believe that the shadows of the past would never again fall athwart his path; but the hope had been proven groundless by the outlaw’s words. More than ever Brad- street wondered who Dick Turpin was, and, so completely did he devote himself to considera- tion of the subject, the pace of the party was but slow as they returned to Leadville. Arrived there the sheriff went at once to his office. He was not in good humor, and vi- ciously pulling off his gloves, he advanced to throw them on the desk. As he did so his expression changed ‘and he recoiled in blank amazement. <® On the desk lay a large sheet of writing- paper, and, thrust through it se as to pin it to the desk, was a long-bladed knife. More than that, it was the very knife which Bradstreet had himself given the Lion of Leadville less than two hours before! For a moment he looked in silent amaze- ment, and then he detected several words on the paper, written in a bold, dashing hand: ‘Here is your knife, Sheriff Bradstreet. I never fail to keep a vow. Dick ‘FURPIN, ** of Leadville.” A bitter exclamation fell from the sheriff's lips. Even before he had given thought to the matter the bold outlaw had made good his boast, It showed wonderful nerve and celerity on his part, for, after leaving Rattlesnake Gulch, he must have mounted a good horse and rode at full speed toward the city. : ; Bradstreet withdrew the knife, which was driven deep into the wood, and then violently jerked a ll-cord. This was to summon a ‘man who had general charge of the office, and Was supposed to see that no one entered the place unlawfully. he man soon came. ‘* Bailey, who has been here?” ; ‘* Nobody, since you went away, sheriff.” ‘* Wrong! somebody has been here.” ‘*?’m sure nobod ,” was the dogged reply. ** Pve been oo. Ey the window all the time, and nobody could pass unseen by me. You saw me there, and bowed to me, when you came in half an hour ago—” “ What?” ; Railey repeated his remark, ‘‘Half an hour ago!” echoed Bradstreet. “““Vby, I’ve not been here before since noon— five hours ago.” ‘You must be joking now,” said Bailey, with a faint smile. ‘Tam not, Just after dinner I went into the mountains, and have — os, returned. I struck the town ten minut : “Then I must be bewitched,” muttered the man, ‘ for I saw some one whom I could almost swear was you. He entered the office, stayed perhaps, a minute, and then came out and went away. Ashe passed the window he looked up and nodded to me, so that I saw his face plainly T can swear—that is, I could almost swear that it was you.” ‘ Bailey was plainly inclined to doubt the chief, but the latter regarded his obstinacy as a cloak for his stupidity in allowing a man to pass, who, beyond doubt, was the Lion of Leadville. Wast- ing no more time, he hastened away and only with cat-like steps. He was middle-aged, with an extremely slen- der, lithe figure; a swarthy face, which was smoothly shaven; and black hair which, in its tendency to crinkle, would have suggested to a suspicious mind that the owner had a dash of negro blood in his veins. He would have been a marked figure anywhere, but was made so by the black suit he wore, with a vest cut high in the neck like that of a priest. This was Jude Peterson, the police spy, or, as he was often called, ‘‘ The Raven,” Bradstreet s:opped him at once. ** Jude, Wild Dick Turpin has been here.” ** Where?” ‘*In my office.” ** But I thought you had gone into the hills to meet him?” **T did go, and saw him; but he has returnod the visit much sooner than I expected.” The sheriff then gave a brief account of what had happened. Jude listened phlegmatically, his face as blank as the wall except when his lips parted a little, now and then, in the shadow of a smile, which might mean anything or noth- ing. The Raven’s smile was unreadable. ‘** Now, then,” said Bradstreet, in conclusion, ‘‘what are we going to do about this? Of course there is no mystery about how Turpin got here— a fleet horse enabled him to outride us, and it needed no very accurate disguise to fool Bailey. But are we going to let this scoundrel play with us thus?” ‘* What can we do more than we have done? He has the cunning of a fox, and seems to divine all our traps as though by magic. We can only keep on trying, and hope to nab him in the end.’ ‘* Peterson, there are men here who claim to be trail-followers of skill. Say to them that if they will find Wild Dick’s cave, Pll give them five hundred dollars.” ‘* That’s a big reward.” ‘*Tt can be raised by private subscription in ten minutes.” ‘*No doubt that is so, and I'll hunt up the best men I know. As you say, this Turpin has run an unparalleled career, and it’s time to bring him up all-standing. Ill do the best I can. After some further conversation they sepa- rated, and each went his way. Bradstreet had not seen fit to mention the accusations made by the outlaw against Peterson, and the latter was in total ignorance of the fact that Dick Turpin claimed to know anything about his past life. When he left Bradstreet, the spy glided on in his cat-like way until he reached a certain house, at the door of which he rung, He was admitted by a tall, imperious-looking woman, who greeted him with this abrupt ques- tion: ** Well, what news of Robert Bradstreet?” CHAPTER III. RED KIT, THE WASP. THERE was a clatter of hoofs, and a single rider went dashing through a canyon, mounted ona black horse which was the perfection of equine grace, strength and s ; The rider was Wild Dick in. He had been to Leadville and fulfilled his boast, and was on his way to the cave where he and his band found shelter. The leaving of the knife in the sheriff’s desk had been an act of bravado, prompted by pique. Bradstreet had so scorned all he said that he had seen fit to give him a lesson, and he now felt considerable satis- faction, being well aware that the event would stir the sheriff’s hot blood to the quick. As he rode through the mountain canyons he had his mask once more in place, and would easily have been recognized if any one had been tere see him, but there was no such person about, He finally entered an extremely wild part of the country, and, after winding about ina way which would have discouraged one who might have followed him, reached the head-quarters of the band; the cave for which the sheriff and his men had often searched in vain. It was a spacious place inside, but reached by ways which gave no encouragement to q seeker of its secrets, : Entering, Turpin found the whole band at home, and had a short conversation with Duke Hallock, his lieutenant, a stout man of middle age, whose grave nature seemed more peceany an honest man than an outlaw. Then he pas to the rear of the cave, where he had his private quarters. This part of the secret abode was cared for by Hallock’s wife and daughter, who shared Duke’s fortune, good or bad, with un- wavering devotion. Dick in went to his own ‘‘ room,” as his private den was with some degree of appro- priateness called. Nature and art had formed around it four walls, and the outlaw’s luxurious taste had furnished it well. The floor was car- peted and the walls hung with curtains, and the furniture, though made by a carpenter who hap- ear to be in the band, had been richly up- olstered. He threw off his hat and mask, and then, if 3 nr ee a = _* ee ee the honest people of Leadville ecuid havea seen him, no one would have wondered how te had deceived Bailey, the attendant at DBrac:ticet’s Sl SS — eos | office, There was a resemblance between him anc the sheriff which was remarkable. Both had the same form, the same shape of head, and the same forehead, eyes and square, resolute jaws. Dressed alike, and placed side by side, it might have puzzled even Jude Peterson to say which was his leader. Resemblances are com- mon, but one so marked as this is rarely seen, Well might the sheriff have dreaded new com- plications had he known the truth. Dick Turpin at once cast off his gaudy road- uniform, and then dressed himself in a sober, citizen’s suit. Thus garbed, he might have passed anywhere as an honest, plain business man, Next, he rung a bell which brought his lieu- tenant’s wife to the door. She was one who had an unwritten history expressed in her face. She was a comely woman, with rippling brown bair and plump features. Ever since Wild Dick knew her she had been an extremely quiet per- son, but he was enough of a student of character to suspect that she had once been as wild as the hawk; that a heart of fire beat under her grave exterior. He directed that his supper be brought at once, and, when it came, ate heartily. He had just finished when a step sounded at the door, Looking up, he saw his lieutenant’s daughter. Red Kit, the Wasp, she was called by the band, but it was a term of affection. Her abun- dant, rippling hair of a brick-red color, furnish- ed the first part of her pet name, and her bright, saucy tongue was responsible for the last part— ‘*the Wasp.” It was not given as implying that she was a vixen, however, but to express the admiration of the rough, yet not wholly depraved, road- agents, n many ways she was a reproduction of her mother’s distinctive qualities, except that time had not thrown an element of gravity around her natural qualities. Bright, daring, rest] quick-witted and saucy of speech, she seemed to be a fit companion for those who led so wild a a life, yet her character was as spotless as any woman’s, In point of years she was still less than twenty, and her small stature had led all to regard her a child, She was one of those who retain an ap- paarwanee of extreme youth long after a woman’s eart reigns supreme, It was the first time Wild Dick had seen her near his room, and there was surprise on his face, but he motioned to the remains of his supper. ‘*T am through, Kit.” **T haven’t come for that,” the girl quickly answered, but it was not as aretort; an unusual gravity showed in her voice. ‘‘ You are going out, captain?” se Yes ” ‘**'You go a good deal, of late.” “ Do I 9”? He looked at her sharply, for there seemed to be more in her manner than her words implied. ‘Yes, and always in this suit of clothes, t cone ae are te leading?” rupt an most sharp was the question, and Dick looked at her in renewed ; i She was very different then from her old se eee do you think I am leading a double Of Red Kit made a quick, impatient gesture. “LT am not blind. My eyes were given me to use, and I have not failed to use them. I’ve read more than you thought, I reckon, Captain, are you going to bring any one here?” ‘‘ Bring any one here? Are you crazy, Kit? ** No, but I sometimes wish I was.” Was this Red Kit, the Wasp? Dick looked at her still, and in increasing wonder. A day be- fore she had been a bright, saucy child, whe seemed to have no serious thought, Now, she seemed to have grown suddenly old; to be more like her mother than herself; and not only was her face grave, but he almost believed that he saw her lips tremble. “Kit,” he said, gravely, ‘“‘ what has gone wrong with you? You are in trouble. hat si Her gaze, usually so bold and frank, was now downcast, “Do you really want to know?” she slowly asked. ** Certainly Ido; I may be able to help you.” He spoke earnestly, and meant all that he said, for he had always liked bright, joyous Kit, but, somehow, it seemed to him that he was addressing another person, like, and yet unlike, saucy Kit. It was no longer the care- less child he looked upon, but a woman. ‘““Tf you want to help me, answer truly, Who are you going to bring here?” ‘* Nobody.” The downcast eyes were swiftly raised, and om Kit’s face was an actual look of alarm. Her voice, too, faltered as she asked: “* Are you going to leave the band?” A fleeting shadow of annoyance crossed Dick'’s ace, ‘Kit, don’t talk in riddles any more. If this NIGDoOO (¢ (@) (<0) Sue