Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road; or, The Black Rider of the Black Hills

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE "Let him go!" she repeated, more of fierceness in her voice than Redburn had ever heard there, before. "He shall not escape my vengeance. Oh, my poor, poor dead brother!" She flung herself back upon the couch, and gave herself up to a wild, passionate, uncontrollable outburst of tears and sobs—the wailings of a sorrowing heart. For a long time she continued to weep and sob violently; then came a lull, during which she fell asleep, from exhaustion—a deep sleep. Redburn and Alice then carried her into an adjoining room, where she was left under the latter's skillful care. Awhile later the cabin was wrapped in silence. When morning sunlight next peeped down into the Flower Pocket, it found everything generally astir. Anita was up and pursuing her household duties, but she was calm, now, even sadder than before, making a strange contrast to blithe, gaysome Alice, who flitted about, here and there, like some bright-winged butterfly surrounded by a halo of perpetual sunshine. Unknown to any one save themselves, two men were within the valley of the Flower Pocket gold-mines—there on business, and that business meant bloodshed. They were secreted in among the foothills on the western side of the flowering paradise, at a point where they were not observed, and at the same time were the observers of all that was going on in front of them. How came they here, when the hand of Deadwood Dick guarded the only accessible entrance there was to the valley? The answer was: they came secretly through the pass on the night preceding the arrival of the road-agents, and had been lying in close concealment ever since. The one was an elderly man of portly figure, and the other a young, dandyish fellow, evidently the elder's son, for they resembled each other in every feature. We make no difficulty to recognizing them as the same precious pair whom Outlaw Dick captured from the stage, only to lose them again through the treachery of two of his own band. Both looked considerably the worse for wear, and the gaunt, hungry expression on their features, as the morning sunlight shone down upon them, declared in a language more adequate than words, that they were beginning to suffer the first pangs of starvation. "We cannot hold out at this rate much longer!" the elder Filmore cried, as he watched the bustle in the valley below. "I'm as empty as a collapsed balloon, and what's more, we're in no prospects of immediate relief." Filmore, the younger, groaned aloud in agony of spirit. "Curse the Black Hills and all who have been fools enough to inhabit them, anyhow!" he growled, savagely; "just let me get back in the land of civilization again, and you can bet your bottom dollar I'll know enough to stay there." "Bah! this little rough experience will do you good. If we only had a square meal or two and a basket of sherry, I should feel quite at home. Nothing but a fair prospect of increasing our individual finances would ever have lured me into this outlandish place. But money, you know, is the root of all—" "Evil!" broke in the other, "and after three months' wild-goose-chase you are just as destitute of the desired root as you were at first." "True, but we have at least discovered one of the shrubs at the bottom of which grows the root." "You refer to Deadwood Dick?" "I do. He is here in the valley, and he must never leave it alive. While we have the chance we must strike the blow that will forever silence his tongue." "Yes; but what about the girl? She will be just as much in the way, if not a good deal more so." "We can manage her all right when the proper time arrives. Dick is our game, now." "He may prove altogether too much game. But, now that we are counting eggs, how much of the 'lay' is to be mine, when this boy and girl are finished?" he queried. "How much? Well, that depends upon circumstances. The girl may fall to you." "The girl? Bah! I'd rather be excused." The day passed without incident in the mines. The work went steadily on, the sounds of the crusher making strange music for the mountain echoes to mock. Occasionally the crack of a rifle announced that either a road-agent or a Ute miner had risked a shot at a mountain sheep, bird, or deer. Generally their aim was attended with success, though sometimes they were unable to procure the slaughtered game. Redburn, on account of his clear-headedness and business tact, had full charge of both mines, the "General" working under him in the shaft, and Fearless Frank in the quartz mine. When questioned about his duel with Harris by Redburn, McKenzie had very little to say; he seemed pained when approached on the subject; would answer no questions concerning the past; was reserved and at times singularly haughty. During the day Anita and Alice took a stroll through the valley, but the latter had been warned, and fought shy of the quartz mine; so there was no encounter between Anita and Fearless Frank. Deadwood Dick joined them as they were returning to the cabin, loaded down with flowers—flowers of almost every color and perfume. "This is a beautiful day," he remarked, pulling up a daisy, as he walked gracefully along. "One rarely sees so many beauties centered in one little valley like this—beautiful landscape and mountain scenery, beautiful flowers beneath smiling skies, and lovely women, the chief center of attraction among all." "Indeed!" and Alice gave him a coquettish smile; "you are flattering, sir road-agent. You, at least, are not beautiful, in that horrible black suit and villainous mask. You remind me of a picture I have seen somewhere of the devil in disguise; all that is lacking is the horns, tail and cloven-foot." Dick broke out into a burst of laughter—it was one of those wild, terrible laughs of his, so peculiar to hear from one who was evidently young in years. Both of the girls were terrified, and would have fled had he not detained them. "Ha, ha!" he said, stepping in front of them, "do not be frightened; don't go, ladies. That's only the way I express my amusement at anything." "Then, for mercy's sake, don't get amused again," said Alice, deprecatingly. "Why, dear me, I thought the Old Nick and all his couriers had pounced down upon us." "Well, how do you know but what he has? I may be his Satanic majesty, or one of his envoys." "I hardly think so; you are too much an earthly being for that. Come, now, take off that detestable mask and let me see what you look like." "No, indeed! I would not remove this mask, except on conditions, for all the gold yon toiling miners are finding, which, I am satisfied, is no small amount." "You spoke of conditions. What are they?" "Some time, perhaps, I will tell you, lady, but not now. See! my men are signaling to me, and I must go. Adieu, ladies;" and in another moment he had wheeled, and was striding back toward camp. In their concealment the two Filmores witnessed this meeting between Dick and the two girls. "So there are females here, eh?" grunted the elder, musingly. "From observation I should say that Prince Dick was a comparative stranger here." "That is my opinion," groaned Clarence, his thoughts reverting to his empty stomach. "Did you hear that laugh a moment ago? It was more like the screech of a lunatic than anything else." "Yes; he is a young tiger. There is no doubt of that to my mind." "And we shall have to keep on the alert to take him. He came to the cabin last night. If he does to-night we can mount him!" Before night the elder Filmore succeeded in capturing a wild goose that had strayed down with the stream from somewhere above. This was killed, dressed and half cooked by a brushwood fire which they hazarded in a fissure in the hillside whereto they had hidden. This fowl they almost ravenously devoured, and thus thoroughly satisfied their appetites. They now felt a great deal better, ready for the work in hand—of capturing and slaying the dare-devil Deadwood Dick. As soon as it was dark they crept, like the prowling wolves they were, down into the valley, and positioned themselves midway between the cabin and the road-agent's camp, but several yards apart, with a lasso held above the grass between them, to serve as a "trip-up." The sky had become overcast with dense black clouds, and the gloom to the valley was quite impenetrable. From their concealment the two Filmores could hear Redburn, Alice and the "General" singing up at the cabin, and it told them to be on their guard, as Dick might now come along at any moment. Slowly the minutes dragged by, and both were growing impatient, when the firm tread of "the Prince" was heard swiftly approaching. Quickly the lasso was drawn taut. Dick, not dreaming of the trap, came boldly along, tripped, and went sprawling to the ground. The next instant his enemies were on him, each with a long murderous knife in hand. CHAPTER XV. TO THE RESCUE! The suddenness of the onslaught prevented Deadwood Dick from raising a hand to defend himself, and the two strong men piling their combined weights upon him, had the effect to render him utterly helpless. He would have yelled to apprise his comrades of his fate, but Alexander Filmore, ready for the emergency, quickly thrust a cob of wood into his mouth, and bound it there with strong strings. The young road-agent was a prisoner. "Hal ha!" leered the elder Filmore, peering down into the masked face—"ha! ha! my young eaglet; so I have you at last, have I? After repeated efforts to get you in my power, I have at last been rewarded with success, eh? Ha! ha! the terrible scourge of the Black Hills lies here at my feet, mine to do with as I shall see fit." "Shall we settle him, and leave him lying here, where his gang can find him?" interrupted the younger Filmore, who, now that his blood was up, cared little what he did. "You give him one jab, and I will guarantee to finish him with the second!" "No! no! boy; you are too hasty. Before we silence him, forever, we must ascertain, if possible, where the girl is." "But, he'll never tell us." "We have that yet to find out. It is my opinion that we can bring him to terms, somehow. Take hold, and we will carry him back to our hole in the hill." Deadwood Dick was accordingly seized by the neck and heels, and borne swiftly and silently toward the western side of the gulch, up among the foothills, into the rift, where the plotters had lain concealed since their arrival. Here he was placed upon the ground in a sitting posture, and his two enemies crouched on either side of him, like beasts ready to spring upon their prey. Below in the valley, the Utes had kindled one solitary fire, and this with a starlike gleam of light from the cabin window, was the only sign of life to be seen through the night's black shroud. The trio in the foothills were evidently quite alone. Alexander Filmore broke the silence. "Well, my gay Deadwood Dick, Prince of the Road, I suppose you wish to have the matter over with, as soon as possible" The road-agent nodded. "Better let him loose in the jaws," suggested Filmore the younger; "or how else shall we get from him what we must know? Take out his gag. I'll hold my six against his pulsometer. If he squawks, I'll silence him, sure as there is virtue in powder and ball!" The elder, after some deliberation, acquiesced, and Dick was placed in possession of his speaking power, while the muzzle of young Filmore's revolver pressed against his breast, warned him to silence and obedience. "Now," said the elder Filmore, "just you keep mum. If you try any trickery, it will only hasten your destruction, which is inevitable!" Deadwood Dick gave a little laugh. "You talk as if you were going to do something toward making me the center of funeralistic attraction." "You'll find out, soon enough, young man. I have not pursued you so long, all for nothing, you may rest assured. Your death will be the only event that can atone for all the trouble you have given me, in the past." " Is that so? Well, you seem to hold all the trump cards, and I reckon you ought to win, though I can't see into your inordinate thirst for diamonds , when spades will eventually triumph. Had I a full hand of clubs , I am not so sure but what I could raise you, knaves though you are!" "I think not; when kings win, the game is virtually up. We hold altogether to high cards for you, at present, and beg as you may, we shall not pass you." "Don't be too sure of it. The best trout often slips from the hook, when you are sanguine that you have at last been immoderately successful. But, enough of this cheap talk. Go on and say your say, in as few words as possible, for I am in a hurry." Both Filmore, Sr., and Filmore, Jr., laughed at this—it sounded so ridiculously funny to hear a helpless prisoner talk of being in a hurry. "Business must be pressing!" leered the elder, savagely. "Don't be at all scared. We'll start you humming along the road to Jordan soon enough, if that's what you want. First, however, we desire you to inform us where we can find the girl, as we wish to make a clean sweep, while we are about it." "Do you bathe your face in alum-water?" abruptly asked the road-agent, staring at his captor, quizzically. "Do you?" "Bathe in alum -water? Certainly not, sir. Why do you ask?" "Because the hardness of you cheek is highly suggestive of the use of some similar application." Alexander Filmore stared at his son a moment, at loss to comprehend; but, as it began to dawn upon him that he was the butt of a hard hit, he uttered a frightful curse. "My cheek and your character bear a close resemblance, then!" he retorted, hotly. "Again I ask you, will you tell me where the girl is?" "No! you must take me for an ornery mule, or some other kind of an animal, if you think I would deliver her into your clutches. No! no! my scheming knaves, I will not. Kill me if you like, but it will not accomplish your villainous ends. She has all of the papers, and can not only put herself forward at the right time, but can have you arrested for my murder!" "Bah! we can find her, as we have found you; so we will not trifle. Clarence, get ready; and when I count one—two—three—pull the trigger, and I'll finish him with my knife!" "All right; go ahead; I'm ready!" replied the dutiful son. Fearless Frank sat upon a bowlder in the mouth of the quartz mine, listening to the strains of music that floated up to him from the cabin out in the valley, and puffing moodily away at a grimy old pipe he had purchased, together with some tobacco, from one of the Utes, with whom he worked. He had not gone down to the crusher-house for his supper; he did not feel hungry, and was more contented here, in the mouth of the mine, where he could command a view of all that was going on in the valley. With his pipe for a companion he was as happy as he could be, deprived as he was from association with the others of his color, who had barred him out in the cold. Once or twice during the day, on coming from within, to get a breath of pure air, he had caught a glimpse of Anita as she flitted about the cabin engaged at her household duties, and the yearning expression that unconsciously stole into his dark eyes, spoke of a passion within his heart, that, though it might be slumbering, was not extinct—was there all the same, in all its strength and ardor. Had he been granted the privilege of meeting her, he might have displaced the barrier that rose between them; but now, nothing remained for him but to toil away until Redburn should see fit to send him away, back into the world from which he came. Would he want to go, when that time came? Hardly, he thought, as he sat there and gazed into the quiet vale below him, so beautiful even in darkness. There was no reason why he should go back again adrift upon the bustling world. He had no relatives—no claims that pointed him to go thither; he was as free and unfettered as the wildest mountain eagle. He had no one to say where he should and where he should not go; he liked one place equally as well as another, providing there was plenty of provender and work within easy range; he had never thought of settling down, until now, when he had come to the Flower Pocket valley, and caught a glimpse of Anita—Anita whom he had not seen for years; on whom he had brought censure, reproach and— A step among the rocks close at hand startled him from a reverie into which he had fallen, and caused him to spill the tobacco from his pipe. A slight trim figure stood a few yards away, and he perceived that two extended hands clasped objects, whose glistening surface suggested that they were "sixes" or "sevens." "Silence!" came in a clear, authoritative voice. "One word more than I ask you, and I'll blow your brains out. Now, what's your name?" "Justin McKenzie's my name. Fearless Frank generally answers me the purpose of a nom de plume," was the reply. "Very good," and the stranger drew near enough for the Scarlet Boy to perceive that he was clad in buck-skin; well armed; wore a Spanish sombrero, and hair long, down over the square shoulders. "I'm Calamity Jane." If McKenzie uttered an ejaculation of surprise, it was not to be wondered at, for he had heard many stories, in Deadwood, concerning the "dare-devil gal dressed up in men's toggery." "Calamity Jane?" he echoed, picking up his pipe. "Where in the world did you come from, and how did you get here, and what do you want, and—" "One at a time, please. I came from Deadwood with Road-Agent Dick's party—unknown to them, understand you. That answers two questions. The third is, I want to be around when there's any fun going on; and it's lucky I'm here now. I guess Dick has just got layed out by two fellows in the valley below here, and they've slid off with him over among the foot-hills yonder. I want you to stub along after me, and lend the voices of your sixes, if need be. I'm going to set him at liberty!" "I'm at your service," Frank quickly replied. Excitement was one of his passions; adventure was another. "Are you well heeled?" "I reckon. Always make it a point to be prepared for wild beasts and the like, you know." "A good idea. Well, if you are ready, we'll slide. I don't want them toughs to get the drop on Dick if I can help it." "Who are they?" "Who—the toughs?" "Yes; they that took the road-agent" "I don't know 'm. Guess they're tender-foots—some former enemies of his, without doubt. They propose to quiz a secret about some girl out of him, and then knife him. We'll have to hurry or they'll get their work in ahead of us." They left the mouth of the mine, and skurried down into the valley, through the dense shroud of gloom. Calamity Jane led the way; she was both fleet of foot and cautious. Let us look down on the foot-hill camp, and the two Fillmores who are stationed on either side of their prisoner. The younger presses the muzzle of his revolver against Deadwood Dick's heart; the elder holds a long gleaming knife upheld in his right hand. "One!" he counts, savagely. "Two!"—after a momentary pause. Another lapse of time, and then— "Hold! gentlemen; that will do!" cries a clear ringing voice; and Calamity Jane and McKenzie, stepping out of the darkness, with four gleaming "sixes" in hand, confirm the pleasant assertion! CHAPTER XVI. THE ROAD-AGENT'S MERCY—CONCLUSION. Nevertheless, the gleaming blade of Alexander Filmore descended, and was buried in the fleshy part of Deadwood Dick's neck, making a wound, painful but not necessarily dangerous. "You vile varmint," cried Calamity Jane, pulling the hammer of one of her revolvers back to full cock; "you cursed fool; don't you know that that only seals yer own miserable fate?" She took deliberate aim, but Dick interrupted her. "Don't shoot, Jennie!" he gasped, the blood spurting from his wound; "this ain't none o' your funeral. Give three shrill whistles for my men, and they'll take care o' these hounds until I'm able to attend to 'em. Take me to the cab—" He could not finish the sentence; a sickening stream of blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell back upon the ground insensible. Fearless Frank gave the three shrill whistles, while Calamity Jane covered the two cowering wretches with her revolvers. The distress signal was answered by a yell, and in a few seconds five road-agents came bounding up. "Seize these two cusses, and guard 'em well!" Calamity said, grimly. "They are a precious pair, and in a few days, no doubt, you'll have the pleasure of attending their funerals. Your captain is wounded, but not dangerously, I hope. We will take him to the cabin, where there are light and skillful hands to dress his wounds. When he wants you, we will let you know. Be sure and guard these knaves well, now." The men growled an assent, and after binding the captives' arms, hustled them off toward camp, in double quick time, muttering threats of vengeance. Fearless Frank and Calamity then carefully raised the stricken road-agent, and bore him to the cabin, where he was laid upon the couch. Of course, all was now excitement. Redburn and Alice set to work to dress the bleeding wound, with Jane and the "General" looking on to see that nothing was left undone. Fearless Frank stood apart from the rest, his arms folded across his breast, a grave, half-doubtful expression upon his handsome, sun-browned features. Anita was not in the room at the time, but she came in a moment later, and stood gazing about her in wondering surprise. Then, her eyes rested upon Fearless Frank for the first, and she grew deathly white; she trembled in every limb; a half-frightened, half-pitiful look came into her eyes. The young man in scarlet was similarly effected. His cheeks blanched; his lips became firmly compressed; a mastering expression fell from his dark magnetic orbs. There they stood, face to face, a picture of doubt; of indifferent respect, of opposite strong passions, subdued to control by a heavy hand. None of the others noticed them; they were alone, confronting each other; trying to read the other's thoughts; the one penitent and craving forgiveness, the other cold almost to sternness, and yet not unwilling to forgive and forget. Deadwood Dick's wound was quickly and skillfully dressed; it was not dangerous, but was so exceedingly painful that the pangs soon brought him back to consciousness. The moment he opened his eyes he saw Fearless Frank and Anita—perceived their position toward each other, and that it would require only a single word to bridge the chasm between them. A hard look came into his eyes as they gazed through the holes in the mask, then he gazed at Alice—sweet piquant Alice—and the hardness melted like snow before the spring sunshine. "Thank God it was no deeper," he said, sitting upright, and rubbing the tips of his black-glove fingers over the patches that covered the gash, "Although deucedly bothersome, it is not of much account." To the surprise of all he sprung to his feet, and strode to the door. Here he stopped, and looked around for a few moments, sniffing at the cool mountain breeze, as a dog would. A single cedar tree stood by the cabin, its branches, bare and naked, stretching out like huge arms above the doorway. And it was at these the road-agent gazed, a savage gleam in his piercing black eyes. After a few careful observations, he turned his face within the cabin. "Justin McKenzie," he said, gazing at the young man, steadily, "I want you to do me a service. Go to my camp, and say to my men that I desire their presence here, together with the two prisoners, and a couple of stout lariats, with nooses at the end of them. Hurry, now!" Fearless Frank started a trifle, for he seemed to recognize the voice; but the next instant he bowed assent, and left the cabin. When he was gone, Dick turned to Redburn. "Have you a glass of water handy, Cap? This jab in the gullet makes me somewhat thirsty," he said. Redburn nodded, and procured the drink; then a strange silence pervaded the cabin—a silence that no one seemed willing to break. At last the tramp of many feet was heard, and a moment later the road-agents, with Fearless Frank at their head, reached the doorway, where they halted. The moment Deadwood Dick came forward, there was a wild, deafening cheer. "Hurra! hurra! Deadwood Dick, Prince of the Road, still lives. Three long hearty cheers, lads, and a hummer!" cried Fearless Frank, and then the mountain echoes reverberated with a thousand discordant yells of hurrah. The young road-agent responded with a nod, and then said: "The prisoners; have you them there?" "Here they are, Cap!" cried a score of voices, and the two Filmores were trotted out to the front, with ropes already about their necks. "Shall we h'ist 'em?" "Not jest yet, boys: I have a few words to say, first." Then turning half-about in the doorway, Deadwood Dick continued: "Ladies and gentlemen, a little tragedy is about to take place here soon, and it becomes necessary that I should say a few words explaining what cause I have for hanging these two wretches whom you see here. "Therefore, I will tell you a short story, and you will see that my cause is just, as we look at these things here in this delectable country of the Black Hills. To begin with: "My name is, to you, Edward Harris! " and here the road-agent flung aside the black mask, revealing the smiling face of the young card-sharp. "I have another—my family name—but I do not use it, preferring Harris to it. Anita, yonder; is my sister. "Several years ago, when we were children, living in one of the Eastern States, we were made orphans by the death of our parents, who were drowned while driving upon a frozen lake in company with my uncle, Alexander Filmore, and his son, Clarence—those are the parties yonder, and as God is my judge, I believe they are answerable for the death of our father and mother. "Alexander Filmore was appointed guardian over us, and executor of our property, which amounted to somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty thousand dollars, my father having been for years extensively engaged in speculation, at which he was most always successful. "From the day of their death we began to receive the most tyrannical treatment. We were whipped, kicked about, and kept in a half-starved condition. Twice when we were in bed, and, as he supposed, asleep, Alexander Filmore came to us and attempted to assassinate us, but my watchfulness was a match for his villainy, and we escaped death at his hands. "Finding that this kind of life was unbearable, I appealed to our neighbors and even to the courts for protection, but my enemy was a man of great influence, and after many vain attempts, I found that I could not obtain a hearing; that nothing remained for me to do but to fight my own way. And I did fight it. "Out of my father's safe I purloined a sum of money sufficient to defray our expenses for a while, and then, taking Anita with me, I fled from the home of my youth. I came first to Fort Laramie, where I spent a year in the service of a fur-trader. "My guardian, during that year, sent three men out to kill me, but they had the tables turned on them, and their bones lay bleaching even now on Laramie plains. "During that year my sister met a gay, dashing young ranger, who hailed to the name of Justin McKenzie, and of course she fell in love with him. That was natural, as he was handsome, suave and gallant, and, more than all, reported tolerably well to-do. "I made inquiries, and found that there was nothing against his moral character, so I made no objections to his paying his attentions to Anita. "But one day a great surprise came. "On returning from a buffalo-hunt of several days' duration I found my home deserted, and a letter from Anita stating that she had gone with McKenzie to Cheyenne to live; they were not married yet, but would be, soon. "That aroused the hellish part of my passionate nature. I believed that McKenzie was leading her a life of dishonor, and it made my blood boil to even think of it. Death, I swore, should be his reward for this infidelity, and mounting my horse I set out in hot haste for Cheyenne. "But I arrived there too late to accomplish my mission of vengeance. "I found Anita and took her back to my home, a sad and sorrowing maiden; McKenzie I could not find; he had heard of my coming, and fled to escape my avenging hand. But over the head of my weeping sister, I swore a fearful oath of vengeance, and I have it yet to keep. I believe there had been some kind of a sham marriage; Anita would never speak on the subject, so I had to guess at the terrible truth. "And there's where you made an accursed mess of the whole affair!" cried McKenzie, stepping into the cabin, and leading Anita forward, by the hand. "Before-God and man I acknowledge Anita Harris to be my legally wedded wife . Listen, Edward Harris, and I will explain. That day that you came to Cheyenne in pursuit of me, I'll acknowledge I committed an error—one that has caused me much trouble since. The case was this: "I was the nearest of kin to a rich old fur-trader, who proposed to leave me all his property at his death: but he was a desperate woman-hater, and bound me to a promise that I would never marry. "Tempted by the lust for gold, I yielded, and he drew up a will in my favor. This was before I met Anita here. "When we went to Cheyenne, the old man was lying at the point of death; so I told Anita that we would not be married for a few days, until we saw how matters were going to shape. If he died, we would be married secretly, and she would return to your roof until I could get possession of my inheritance, when we would go to some other part of the country to live. If he recovered, I would marry her anyway, and let the old man go to Tophet with his money-bags. I see now how I was in the wrong. "Well, that very day, before your arrival, the old man himself pounced down upon us, and cursed me up hill and down, for my treachery, and forthwith struck me out from his will. I immediately sent for a chaplain, and was married to Anita. I then went up to see the old man and find if I could not effect a compromise with him. "He told me if I would go with him before Anita and swear that she was not legally my wife, and that I would never live with her, he would again alter his will in my favor. "Knowing that that would make no difference, so far as the law was concerned, I sent Anita a note apprising her of what was coming, and stating that she had best return to you until the old man should die, when I would come for her. Subsequently I went before her in company with the old man and swore as I had promised to do, and when I departed she was weeping bitterly, but I naturally supposed it was sham grief. A month later, on his death-bed, the old trader showed me the letter I had sent her, and I realized that not only was my little game up, but that I had cheated myself out of a love that was true. I was left entirely out of the will, and ever since I have bitterly cursed the day that tempted me to try to win gold and love at the same time. Here, Edward Harris," and the young man drew a packet of papers from inside his pocket, "are two certificates of my marriage, one for Anita, and one for myself. You see now, that, although mine has been a grievous error, no dishonor is coupled with your sister's name." Ned Harris took one of the documents and glanced over it, the expression on his face softening. A moment later he turned and grasped McKenzie's hand. "God bless you, old boy!" he said, huskily. "I am the one who has erred, and if you have it in your heart to forgive me, try and do so. I do not expect much quarter in this world, you know. There is Anita; take her, if she will come to you, and may God shower his eternal blessings upon you both!" McKenzie turned around with open arms, and Anita flew to his embrace with a low glad cry. There was not a dry eye in the room. There was an impatient surging of the crowd outside; Dick saw that his men were longing for the sport ahead; so he resumed his story: "There is not much more to add," he said, after a moment's thought. "I fled into the Black Hills when the first whispers of gold got afloat, and chancing upon this valley, I built us a home here, wherein to live away the rest of our lives. "In time I organized the band of men you see around me, and took to the road. Of this my sister knew nothing. The Hills have been my haunt ever since, and during all this time yon scheming knaves"—pointing to the prisoners—"have been constantly sending out men to murder me. The last tool, Hugh Vansevere by name, boldly posted up reward papers in the most frequented routes, and he went the same way as his predecessors. Seeing that nothing could be accomplished through aids, my enemies have at last come out to superintend my butchery in person; and but for the timely interference of Calamity Jane and Justin McKenzie, a short time since, I should have ere this been numbered with the dead. Now, I am inclined to be merciful to only those who have been merciful to me; therefore, I have decided that Alexander and Clarence Filmore shall pay the penalty of hanging, for their attempted crimes. Boys, string 'em up! " So saying, Deadwood Dick stepped without the cabin, and closed the door behind him. Redburn also shut down and curtained the windows, to keep out the horrible sight and sounds. But, for all this, those inside could not help but hear the pleading cries of the doomed wretches, the tramp of heavy feet, the hushed babble of voices, and at last the terrible shout of, "Heave 'o! up they go!" which signaled the commencement of the victims' journey into mid-air. Then there was a long blank pause; not a sound was heard, not a voice spoke, nor a foot moved. This silence was speedily broken, however, by two heavy falls, followed almost immediately by the tramp of feet. Not till all was again quiet did Redburn venture to open the door and look out. All was dark and still. The road-agents had gone, and left no sign of their work behind. When morning dawned, they were seen to have re-camped on the eastern slope, where the smoke of their camp-fires rose in graceful white columns through the clear transparent atmosphere. During the day Dick met Alice Terry, as she was gathering flowers, a short distance from the cabin. "Alice—Miss Terry," he said, gravely, "I have come to ask you to be my wife. I love you, and want you for my own darling. Be mine, Alice, and I will mend my ways, and settle down to an honest, straightforward life." The beautiful girl looked up pityingly. "No," she said, shaking her head, her tone kind and respectful, "I cannot love you, and never can be your wife, Mr. Harris." "You love another?" he interrogated. She did not answer, but the tell-tale blush that suffused her cheek did, for her. "It is Redburn!" he said, positively. "Very well; give him my congratulations. See, Alice;" here the young road-agent took the crape mask from his bosom; "I now resume the wearing of this mask. Your refusal has decided my future. A merry road-agent I have been, and a merry road-agent I shall die. Now, good-by forever." On the following morning it was discovered that the road-agents and their daring leader, together with the no less heroic Calamity Jane, had left the valley—gone; whither, no one knew. About a month later, one day when Calamity Jane was watering her horse at the stream, two miles above Deadwood, the road-agent chief rode out of the chaparral and joined her. He was still masked, well armed, and looking every inch a Prince of the Road. "Jennie," he said, reining in his steed, "I am lonely and want a companion to keep me company through life. You have no one but yourself; our spirits and general temperament agree. Will you marry me and become my queen?" "No!" said the girl, haughtily, sternly. "I have had all the man I care for. We can be friends, Dick; more we can never be!" "Very well, Jennie; I rec'on it is destined that I shall live single. At any rate, I'll never take a refusal from another woman. Yes, gal, we'll be friends, if nothing more." There is little more to add. We might write at length, but choose a few words to end this o'er true romance of life in the Black Hills. McKenzie and Anita were remarried in Deadwood, and at the same time Redburn led Alice Terry to the altar, which consummation the "General" avowed was "more or less of a good thing—consider'bly less o' more 'n' more o' less." Through eastern lawyers, a settlement of the Harris affairs was effected, the whole of the property being turned over to Anita, thereby placing her and Fearless Frank above want for a lifetime. Therefore they gave up their interest in the Flower Pocket mines to Redburn and the "General." Calamity Jane is still in the Hills. And grim and uncommunicative, there roams through the country of gold a youth in black, at the head of a bold lawless gang of road-riders, who, from his unequaled daring, has won and rightly deserves the name—Deadwood Dick, Prince of the Road. THE END. Edward L. Wheeler's Deadwood Dick Novels IN Beadle's Half-Dime Library. 1. Deadwood Dick; or, The Black Rider of the Black Hills. 20. The Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick's Defiance. 28. Buffalo Ben; or, Deadwood Dick in Disguise. 35. Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval; or, The Brotherhood of Death. 42. The Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dick's Bonanza. 49. Omaha Oll; or, Deadwood Dick in Danger. 75. Deadwood Dick's Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood Bar. 73. Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity Jane, the Heroine of Whoop-Up. 77. Corduroy Charlie; or, The Last Act of Deadwood Dick. 100. Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange Stroke for Liberty. 104. Deadwood Dick's Device; or, The Sign of the Double Cross. 109. Deadwood Dick as Detective. 121. Cinnamon Chip, the Girl Sport; or, The Golden Idol of Mount Rosa. 129. Deadwood Dick's Double; or, The Ghost of Gordon's Gulch. 138. Blonde Bill; or, Deadwood Dick's Home Base. 149. A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick's Big Strike. 156. Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party. 195. Deadwood Dick's Dream; or, The Rivals of the Road. 201. The Black Hills Jezebel; or, Deadwood Dick's Ward. 205. Deadwood Dick's Doom; or, Calamity-Jane's Last Adventure. 217. Captain Crack-Shot, the Girl Brigand; or, Gypsy Jack from Jimtown. 221. Sugar Coated Sam; or, The Black Gowns of Grim Gulch. 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