FOOTNOTES:
[C] Living characters
We see fit to change the scene once more back to the pocket gulch—the home of the sweet, sad-faced Anita. The date is one month later—one long, eventful month since Justin McKenzie shot down Ned Harris under the noonday sun, a short distance above Deadwood.
Returning to the Flower Pocket by the route to the rugged transverse gulch, and thence through the gaping fissure, we find before us a scene—not of slumbering beauty, but of active industry and labor, such as was not here when we last looked into the flower-strewn paradise of the Hills.
The flowers are for the most part still intact, though occasionally you will come across a spot where the hand of man hath blighted their growth.
Where stood the little vine-wreathed cabin now may be seen a larger and more commodious log structure, which is but a continuation of the original.
A busy scene greets our gaze all around. Men are hurrying here and there through the valley—men not of the pale-face race, but of the red race; men, clad only to the waist, with remarkable muscular developments, and fleetness of foot.
Over the little creek which dashes far adown from pine-dressed mountain peaks, and trails its shining waters through the flowering land, is built another structure—of logs, strongly and carefully erected, and thatched by a master hand with bark and grass. From the roof projects a small smoke-stack, from which emanates a steady cloud of smoke, curling lazily upward toward heaven's blue vault, and inside is heard the grinding, crushing rumble of ponderous machinery, and we rightly conjecture that it is a crusher in full operation. Across from the northern side of the gulch comes a steady string of mules in line, each pulling behind him a jack-sled (or, what is better known to the general reader as a stone-boat) heavily laden with huge quartz rocks. These are dumped in front of one of the large doorways of the crusher, and the "empties" return mechanically and disappear within a gaping fissure in the very mountain side—a sort of tunnel, which the hand of man, aided by that great and stronger arm—powder—has burrowed and blasted out.
All this is under the Immediate management of the swarthy-skinned red-men, whose faces declare them to be a remnant of the once great Ute tribe—now utilized to a better occupation than in the dark and bloody days of the past.
Near the crusher building is a large, stoutly-constructed windlass, worked by mule power, and every few moments there comes up to the surface from the depths of a shaft, a bucketful of rock and sand, which is dumped into a push-car, and from thence transferred to the line of sluice-boxes in the stream, where more half-clothed Utes are busily engaged in sifting golden particles from the rich sand.
What a transformation is all this since we left the Flower Pocket a little over a month ago! Now, everywhere within those majestic mountain-locked walls is bustle and excitement; then, the valley was sleeping away the calm, perfume-laden autumnal days, unconscious of the mines of wealth lying nestling in its bosom, and content and happy in its quietude and the adornments of nature's beauties.
Now, shouts, ringing halloos, angry curses at the obstinate mules, the rumbling of ponderous machinery, the clink of picks and reports of frequent blasts, the deadened sound of escaping steam, the barking of dogs, the whining of horses—all these sounds are now to be heard.
Then, the valley was peacefully at rest; the birds chimed in their exquisite music to the Æolian harp-like music of the breeze through the branches of the mountain pines; the waters pouring adown from the stupendous peaks created an everlasting song of love and constancy; bees and humming-birds drank delicious draughts from the blushing lips of a million nodding flowers; the sun was more hazy and drowsy-looking; everything had an appearance of ethereal peace and happiness.
But, like a drama on the stage, a grand transformation had taken place; a beautiful dream had been changed into stern reality; quietude and slumber had fled at the bold approach of bustling industry and life. And all this transformation is due to whom?
The noonday sun shone down on all the busy scene with a glance of warmth and affection, and particularly did its rays center about two men, who, standing on the southern side of the valley, up in among the rugged foothills, were watching the living panorama with the keenest interest.
They were Harry Redburn and the queer old hump-backed, bow-legged little locator, "General" Walsingham Nix.
Redburn was now looking nearly as rough, unkempt and grizzled as any veteran miner, and for a bet, he actually had not waxed the ends of his fine mustache for over a week. But there was more of a healthy glow upon his face, a robustness about his form, and a light of satisfaction in his eye which told that the rough miner's life agreed with him exceedingly well.
The old "General" was all dirt, life and animation, and as full of his eccentricities as ever. He was a character seldom met with—ever full of a quaint humor and sociability, but never known to get mad, no matter how great the provocation might be.
His chance strike upon the spot where lay the gold of Flower Pocket imbedded—if it could be called a chance, considering his dream—was the prelude to the opening up of one of the richest mining districts south of Deadwood.
We left them after Harry had driven a stake to mark the place which the somnambulist had pointed out as indicating the concealed mine.
On the succeeding day the two men set to work, and dug long and desperately to uncover the treasure, and after three days of incessant toil they were rewarded with success. A rich vein of gold, or, rather, a deposit of the valuable metal was found, it being formed in a deep, natural pocket and mixed alternately with sand and rock.
During the remaining four days of that week the two lucky miners took out enough gold to evidence their supposition that they had struck one of the richest fields in all the Black Hills country. Indeed, it seemed that there was no end to the depth of sand in the shaft, and as long as the sand held out the gold was likely to.
When, just in the flush of their early triumph, the old humpback was visited by another somnambulistic fit, and this time he discovered gold down in the northern mountain side, and prophesied that the quartz rock which could be mined therefrom would more than repay the cost and trouble of opening up the vein and of transporting machinery to the gulch.
We need not go into detail of what followed; suffice it to say that immediate arrangements were made and executed toward developing this as yet unknown territory.
While Redburn set to work with two Ute Indians (transported to the gulch from Deadwood, under oath of secrecy by the "General") to blast into the mountain-side, and get at the gold-bearing quartz, the old locater in person set out for Cheyenne on the secret mission of procuring a portable crusher, boiler and engine, and such other implements as would be needed, and getting them safely into the gulch unknown to the roving population of the Hills country. And most wonderful to relate, he succeeded.
Two weeks after his departure, he returned with the machinery and two score of Ute Indians, whom he had sworn into his service, for, as a Ute rarely breaks his word, they were likely to prove valuable accessories to the plans of our two friends. Redburn had in the meantime blasted in until he came upon the quartz rock. Here he had to stop until the arrival of the machinery. He however busied himself in enlarging the cabin and building a curb to the shaft, which occupied his time until at last the "General" and his army returned.[D]
Now, we see these two successful men standing and gazing at the result of their joint labors, each financially happy; each growing rich as the day rolls away.
The miners are in a prosperous condition, and everything moves off with that ease and order that speaks of shrewd management and constant attention to business.
The gold taken from the shaft is much finer than that extracted from the quartz.
The quartz yielded about eighteen dollars to the ton, which the "General" declared to be as well as "a feller c'u'd expect, considerin' things, more or less!"
Therefore, it will be seen by those who have any knowledge whatever of gold mining that, after paying off the expenses, our friends were not doing so badly, after all.
"Yes, yes!" the "General" was remarking, as he gazed at the string of mules that alternately issued from and re-entered the fissure on the opposite side of the valley; "yes, yes, boyee, things ar' workin' as I like ter see 'em at last. The shaft'll more'n pay expenses if she holds her head 'bove water, as I opine she will, an' w'at ar' squeezed out uv the quartz ar' cleer 'intment fer us."
"True; the shaft is more than paying off the hands," replied Redburn, seating himself upon a bowlder, and staring vacantly at the dense column of smoke ejected from the smoke-stack in the roof of the crusher building.
"I was looking up accounts last evening, and after deducting what you paid for the machinery, and what wages are due the Utes, we have about a thousand dollars clear of all, to be divided between three of us."
"Exactly. Now, that's w'at I call fair to middling. Of course thar'll be more or less expense, heerafter, but et'll be a consider'ble less o' more than more o' less. Another munth'll tell a larger finanshell tale, I opine"
"Right again, unless something happens more than we think for now. If we get through another month, however, without being nosed out, why we may consider ourselves all-fired lucky."
"Jes' so! Jes' so! but we'll hev ter take our chances. One natteral advantage, we kin shute 'em as fast as they come—"
"Ho!" Redburn interrupted, suddenly, leaping to his feet; "they say the devil's couriers are ever around when you are talking of them. Look! invaders already."
He pointed toward the east, where the passage led out of the valley into the gorge beyond.
Out of this passage two persons on horseback had just issued, and now they came to a halt, evidently surprised at the scene which lay spread out before them.
No sooner did the "General" clap his eyes on the pair than he uttered a cry of astonishment, mingled with joy.
"It's thet scarlet chap, Fearless Frank!" he announced, hopping about like a pig on a hot griddle "w'at I war tellin' ye about; the same cuss w'at desarted Charity Joe's train, ter look fer sum critter w'at war screechin' fer help. I went wi' the lad fer a ways, but my jackass harpened to be more or less indispositioned—consider'bly more o' less than less o' more—an' so I made up my mind not ter continny his route. Ther last I see'd o' the lad he disappeared over sum kind o' a precypice, an' calkylatin' as how he war done fer, I rej'ined Charity Joseph, ar' kim on."
"He has a female in his company!" said Redburn, watching the new-comer keenly.
"Yas, peers to me he has, an' et's more or less likely that et's the same critter he went to resky w'en he left Charity Joe's train!"
"What about him? We do not want him here; to let him return to Deadwood after what he has seen would be certain death to our interests."
"Yas, thar's more or less truth in them words o' yours, b'yee—consider'bly more o' less than less o' more. He ken't go back now, nohow we kin fix et. He's a right peart sort o' a kid, an' I think ef we was ter guv him a job, or talk reeson'ble ter him, thet he'd consent to do the squar' thing by us."
Redburn frowned.
"He'll have to remain for a certain time, whether he wants to or not," he muttered, more savage than usual. It looked to him as if this was to be the signal of a general invasion. "Come! let's go and see what we can do."
They left the foothills, clambered down into the valley and worked their way toward where Fearless Frank and his companion sat in waiting.
As they did so, headed by a figure in black, who wore a mask as did all the rest, a band of horsemen rode out of the fissure into the valley. One glance and we recognize Deadwood Dick, Prince of the Road, and his band of road-agents!
Old General Nix was the first to discover the new invasion.
"Gorra'mighty!" he ejaculated, flourishing his staff about excitedly, "d'je mind them same w'at's tuk et inter the'r heads to invade our sancty sanctorum, up yander? Howly saints frum ther cullender! We shall be built up inter an entire city 'twixt this an' sunset, ef ther population n' sect becum enny more numersome. Thars a full fifty o' them sharks, more or less—consider'bly more o' less than less o' more—an' ef we hain't got ter hold a full hand in order ta clean 'em out, why, ye can call me a cross-eyed, hair lipped hyeeny, that's all."
Redburn uttered an ejaculation as he saw the swarm of invaders that was perhaps more forcible than polite.
He did not like the looks of things at all. If Ned Harris were only here, he thought, he could throw the responsibility all off on his shoulders. But he was not; neither had he been seen or heard of since he had quitted the valley over a month ago. Where he was staying all this time was a problem that no one could solve—no one among our three friends.
The "General" had made inquiries in Deadwood, but elicited no information concerning the young miner. He had dropped entirely out of the magic city's notice, and might be dead or dying in some foreign clime, for all they knew. Anita worried and grew sadder each day at his non-return; it seemed to her that he was in distress, or worse, perhaps—dead. He had never stayed away so long before, she said, always returning from his trips every few days. What, then, could now be the reason of his prolonged absence?
Redburn foresaw trouble in the intrusion of the road-agents and Fearless Frank, although he knew not the character or calling of the former, and he resolved to make one bold stroke in defense of the mines.
"Go to the quartz mines as quickly as you can!" he said, addressing Nix, "and call every man to his arms. Then rally them out here, where I will be waiting with the remainder of our forces, and we will see what can be done. If it is to be a fight for our rights, a desperate fight it shall be."
The "General" hurried off with as much alacrity as was possible, with him, toward the quartz mine, while Redburn likewise made haste to visit the shaft and collect together his handful of men.
He passed the cabin on the way, and, seeing Anita seated in the doorway, he came to a momentary halt.
"You had better go inside and lock the doors and windows behind you," he said, advisingly. "There are invaders in the gulch, and we must try and effect a settlement with them; so it is not desirable that they should see you."
"You are not going to fight them?"
"Yes, if they will not come to reasonable terms which I shall name. Why?"
"Oh! don't fight. You will get killed."
"Humph! what of that? Who would care if I were killed?"
"I would, for one, Mr. Redburn."
The miner's heart gave a great bound, and he gazed into the pure white face of the girl, passionately. Was it possible that she had in her heart anything akin to love, for him? Already be had conceived a passing fancy for her, which might ripen into love, in time.
"Thanks!" he said, catching up her hand and pressing it to his lips. "Those words, few as they are, make me happy, Miss Anita. But, stop! I must away. Go inside, and keep shady until you see me again;" and so saying he hurried on.
In ten minutes' time two score of brawny, half-dressed Utes were rallied in the valley, and Redburn was at their head, accompanied by the "General."
"I will now go forward and hold parley," said Harry, as he wrapped a kerchief about the muzzle of his rifle-barrel. "If you see me fall, you can calculate that it's about time for you to sling in a chunk of your lip."
He had fallen into the habit of talking in an illiterate fashion, since his association with the "General."
"All right," assented the old locater; "ef they try ter salt ye, jes' giv' a squawk, an' we'll cum a-tearin' down ter yer resky at ther rate o' forty hours a mile, more or less—consider'bly more o' less than less o' more."
Redburn buckled his belt a hole tighter, looked to his two revolvers, and set out on his mission.
The road-agents had, in the mean time, circled off to the right of the fissure, and formed into a compact body, where they halted and watched the rallying of the savages in the valley.
Fearless Frank and his lovely companion remained where they had first halted, awaiting developments. They had stumbled into Paradise and were both surprised and bewildered.
Redburn approached them first. He was at loss how to open the confab, but the Scarlet Boy saved him the trouble.
"I presume I see in you one of the representatives of this concern," he said, doffing his hat and showing his pearly teeth in a little smile, as the miner came up.
"You do," replied Redburn, bowing stiffly. "I am an owner or partner in this mining enterprise, which, until your sudden advent, has been a secret to the outside world."
"I believe you, pilgrim; for, though I am pretty thoroughly acquainted with the topography of the Black Hills country, I had not the least idea that such an enterprise existed in this part of the territory."
"No, I dare say not. But how is it that we are indebted to you for this intrusion?—for such we feel justified in calling it, under the existing circumstances."
"I did not intend to intrude, sir, nor do I now. In riding through the mountains we accidentally stumbled into the fissure passage that leads to this gulch, and as there was nothing to hinder us, we came on through."
"True; I should have posted a strong guard in the pass. You have a female companion, I perceive; not your wife?"
"Oh, no! nor my sister, either. This is Miss Terry—an estimable young lady, who has come to the Black Hills in search of her father. Your name is—"
"Redburn—Harry Redburn; and yours, I am told, is Fearless Frank."
"Yes, that is the title I sail under. But how do you know aught of me?"
"I was told your name by a partner of mine. Now, then, concerning the present matter; what do you propose to do?"
"To do? Why, turn back, I suppose; I see nothing else to do."
Redburn leaned on his rifle and considered.
"Do you belong to that other crowd?"
"No, indeed;" Frank's face flushed, half angrily. "I thank my stars I am not quite so low down as that, yet. Do you know them? That's Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road, and his band of outlaws!"
"What—is it possible? The same gang whom the Pioneer is making such a splurge over, every week."
"The same. That fellow clad in black is Deadwood Dick, the leader."
"Humph! He in black; you in scarlet. Two contrasting colors."
"That is so. I had not thought of it before. But no significance is attached thereto."
"Perhaps not. Have you the least idea what brought them here?"
"The road-agents? I reckon I do. The military has been chasing them for the last two days. Probably they have come here for protection."
"Maybe so; or for plunder. Give me your decision, and I will go and see what they want."
"There is nothing for me to decide more than to take the back track."
Redburn shook his head, decidedly.
"You cannot go back!" he said, using positiveness in his argument; "that is, not for awhile. You'd have all Deadwood down on us in a jiffy. I'll give you work in the shaft, at three dollars a day. You can accept that offer, or submit to confinement until I see fit to set you at liberty."
"And my companion, here—?"
"I will place under the charge of Miss Anita for the present, where she will receive hospitable treatment."
Fearless Frank started as though he had been struck a violent blow; his face grew very white; his eyes dilated; he trembled in every joint.
"Anita!" he gasped—"Anita!"
"I believe that is what I said!" Redburn could not understand the youth's agitation. He knew that the sister of Ned Harris had a secret; was this Fearless Frank in any way connected with it, and if so, how? "Do you know her?"
"Her other name is—"
"Harris—Anita Harris, in full. Do you know her, or aught of her?"
"I—I—I did, once!" was the slow reply. "Where is she; I want to see her?"
Redburn took a moment to consider.
Would it be best to permit a meeting between the two until he should be able to learn something more definite concerning the secret? If Ned Harris were here would he sanction such a meeting? No! something told the young miner that he would not; something warned him that it could result in no good to allow the scarlet youth an interview with sad, sweet-faced Anita.
"You cannot see her!" he at last said, decidedly. "There is a reason why you two should never meet again, and if you remain in the gulch, as you will be obliged to, for the present, you must give me your word of honor that you will not go near yonder cabin."
Fearless Frank had expected this; therefore he was not surprised. Neither did Redburn know how close he had shied his stone at the real truth.
"I promise," McKenzie said, after a moment's deliberation, "on my honor, that I will not approach the cabin, providing you will furnish me my meals and lodgings elsewhere. If Anita comes to me, what then?"
"I will see that she does not," Redburn answered, positively. Gradually he was assuming full control of things, in the absence of Harris, himself. "Miss Terry, you may ride down to yonder cabin, and tell Anita I sent you. Pilgrim, you can come along with me."
"No; I will accompany Alice as far as where your forces are stationed," said Frank, and then they rode down the slope, Redburn turning toward where the road-agents sat upon their horses in a compact body, with Deadwood Dick at their head.
As the miner drew nigh and came to a standstill, the Prince of the road rode forward to his side.
"Well—?" he said, interrogatively, his voice heavy yet pleasant; "I suppose you desire to know what bizness we've got in your cornfield, eh, stranger?"
"That's about the dimensions of it, yes," replied Redburn, at once conceiving a liking for the young road-agent, in whom he thought he saw a true gentleman, in the disguise of a devil. "I came over to learn the object you have in view, in invading our little valley, if you have no objections in telling."
"Certainly not. As you may have guessed already, we are a band of road-agents, whose field of action we have lately confined to the Black Hills country. I have the honor of being the leader, and you have doubtless heard of me—Deadwood Dick, the 'Road-Agent Prince,' as the Pioneer persists in terming me. Just at present, things are rather sultry in the immediate vicinity of Deadwood, so far as we are concerned, and we sought this locality to escape a small army of the Deadwood military, who have been nosing around after us for the past week."
"Well—?"
"Well, we happened to see a man and woman come this way, and believing that it must lead to somewhere or other, we followed, and here we are, out of the reach of the blue-coats, but, I take it, in the way of a party of secret miners. Is it not so?"
"No, not necessarily so, unless you put yourselves in the way. You wish to remain quartered here for the present?"
"If not contrary to your wishes, we should like to, yes."
"I have no objections to offer, providing you will agree to two points."
"And what are they, may I ask?"
"These. That you will camp at the mouth of the passage, and thus keep out any other intruders that may come; second, that you will keep your men to this side or the valley, and not interfere with any of our laborers."
"To which I eagerly agree. You shall experience no inconvenience from our presence here; you furnish us a haven of safety from the pursuing soldiers; we in return will extend you our aid in repelling a host of fortune-seekers who may any moment come down this way in swarms."
"Very well; that settles it, then. You keep your promise, and all will go well."
The two shook hands: then Redburn turned and strode back to dismiss his forces, while Dick and his men took up their position at the place where the fissure opened into the gulch. Here they made preparations to camp. Redburn, while returning to his men, heard a shout of joy, and looking up, saw, to his surprise, that the old "General" and Alice Terry were locked in each other's arms, in a loving embrace.
FOOTNOTES:
[D] This crusher is said to have been the first introduced into the Black Hills
What did it mean?
Had the old hump-backed, bow-legged mine-locater gone crazy, or was he purposely insulting the beautiful maiden? Fearless Frank stood aside, apparently offering no objections to the hugging, and the Indians did likewise.
At least Miss Terry made no serious attempts to free herself from the "General's" bear-like embrace.
A few bounds brought Redburn to the spot, panting, breathless, perspiring. "What is the meaning of this disgraceful scene?" he demanded, angrily.
"Disgraceful!" The old "General" set Miss Terry down on her feet, after giving her a resounding smack, and turned to stare at the young miner, in astonishment. "Disgraceful! Waal, young man, ter tell the solid Old Testament truth, more or less—consider'bly less o' more 'n more o' less—I admire yer cheek, hard an' unblushin' as et ar'. Ye call my givin' this pretty piece o' feminine gander a squar', fatherly sort o' a hug, disgraceful, do ye? Think et's all out o' ther bounds o' propriety, do ye?"
"I look at it in that light, yes," Redburn replied.
"Haw! haw! haw!" and the General shook his fat sides with immoderate laughter. "Why, pilgrim-tender-fut, this 'ere hundred an' twenty-six pounds o' feminine gender b'longs to me—ter yours, truly, Walsingham Nix—an' I have a parfec' indervidual right ter hug an' kiss her as much as I please, wi'out brookin' enny interference frum you. Alice, dear, this ar' Harry Redburn, ginerall sup'intendent o' ther Flower Pocket gold-mines, an' 'bout as fair specimen as they make, nowadays. Mr. Redburn, I'll formally present you to Miss Alice Terry, my darter!"
Redburn colored, and was not a little disconcerted on account of his blunder; but he rallied in a moment, and acknowledged the introduction with becoming grace and dignity.
"You must excuse my interference," he said, earnestly. "I saw the old 'General' here taking liberties that no stranger should take, and knowing nothing of the relationship existing between you, I was naturally inclined to think that he was either drunk or crazy; therefore I deemed it necessary to investigate. No offense, I hope."
"Of course not." and Alice smiled one of her sweetest smiles. "You did perfectly right and are deserving of no censure, whatever."
After a few moments of desultory conversation, Redburn took the "General" to one side, and spoke on the subject of Fearless Frank and Anita Harris—of his action in the matter, and so forth. Nix—or Terry, as the latter was evidently his real name—heartily coincided with his views, and both agreed that it was best not to let the Scarlet Boy come within range of Anita, or, at least, not till Ned Harris should return, when he could do as he chose.
Accordingly it was decided that Fearless Frank should be set to work in the quartz mine, that being the furthest from the cabin, and he could eat and sleep either in the mine or in the crusher building, whichever he liked best.
After settling this point the two men rejoined the others, and Frank was apprised of their decision. He made no remarks upon it, but it was plain to see that he was anything but satisfied. His wild spirit yearned for constant freedom.
The Utes were dismissed and sent back to their work; the "General" strolled off with McKenzie toward the quartz mine; it devolved upon Redburn to escort Alice to the cabin, which he did with pleasure, and gave her an introduction to sweet, sad-faced Anita, who awaited their coming in the open doorway.
The two girls greeted each other with warmth; it was apparent that they would become fast friends when they learned more of each other.
As for Redburn, he was secretly enamored with the "General's" pretty daughter; she was beautiful, and evidently accomplished, and her progenitor was financially well-to-do. What then was lacking to make her a fitting mate for any man? Redburn pondered deeply on this subject, as he left the girls together, and went out to see to his duties in the mines.
He found Terry and Fearless Frank in the quartz mine, looking at the swarthy-skinned miners; examining new projected slopes; suggesting easier methods for working out different lumps of gold-bearing rock. While the former's knowledge of practical mining was extended, the latter's was limited.
"I think thet thar ar' bigger prospects yet, in further," the old locater was saying. "I ain't much varsed on jeeological an' toppygraffical formation, myself, ye see; but then, it kinder 'peers to me thet this quartz vein ar' a-goin' to hold out fer a consider'ble time yet."
"Doubtless. More straight digging an' less slopes I should think would be practicable," McKenzie observed.
"I don't see it!" said Redburn, joining them. "Sloping and transversing discovers new veins, while line work soon plays out. I think things are working in excellent order at present."
They all made a tour of the mine which had been dug a considerable distance into the mountain. The quartz was ordinarily productive, and being rather loosely thrown together was blasted down without any extra trouble. After a short consultation, Redburn and the "General" concluded to place Frank over the Utes as superintendent and mine-boss, as they saw that he was not used to digging, blasting or any of the rough work connected with the mine, although he was clear-headed and inventive.
When tendered the position it was gratefully accepted by him, he expressing it his intention to work for the interest of his employers as long as he should stay in the gulch.
Night at last fell over the Flower Pocket gold-mines, and work ceased.
The Utes procured their own food—mainly consisting of fish from the little creek and deer and mountain birds that could be brought down at almost any hour from the neighboring crags—and slept in the open air. Redburn had McKenzie a comfortable bed made in the crusher-house, and sent him out a meal fit for a prince.
As yet, Anita knew nothing of the scarlet youth's identity;—scarcely knew, in fact, that he was in the valley.
At the cabin, the evening meal was dispatched with a general expression of cheerfulness about the board. Anita seemed less downcast than usual, and the vivacious Alice made life and merriment for all. She was witty where wit was proper, and sensible in an unusual degree.
Redburn was infatuated with her. He watched her with an expression of fondness in his eyes; he admired her every gesture and action; he saw something new to admire in her, each moment he was in her society.
When the evening meal was cleared away, he took down the guitar, and sung several ballads, the old "General" accompanying him with his rich deep bass, and Alice with her clear birdlike alto; and the sweet melody of the trio's voices called forth round after round of rapturous applause from the road-agents camped upon the slope, and from the Utes who were lounging here and there among the flower-beds of the valley. But of the lot, Deadwood Dick was the only one bold enough to approach the cabin, he came sauntering along and halted on the threshold, nodding to the occupants of the little apartment with a nonchalance which was not assumed.
"Good-evening!" he said, tipping his sombrero, but taking care not to let the mask slip from his face. "I hope mine is not an intrusion. Hearing music, I was loth to stay away, for I am a great lover of music;—it is the one passion that appeals to my better nature."
He seated himself on the little stone step, and motioned for Redburn to proceed.
One of those inside the cabin had been strangely affected at the sight of Dick, and that person was Anita. She turned deathly pale, her eyes assumed an expression of affright, and she trembled violently, as she first saw him. The Prince of the Road, however, if he saw her, noticed not her agitation; in fact, he took not the second glance at her while he remained at the cabin. His eyes were almost constantly fastening upon the lovely face and form of Alice.
Thinking it best to humor one who might become either a powerful enemy or an influential friend, Redburn accordingly struck up a lively air, a la banjo, and in exact imitation of a minstrel, rendered "Gwine to Get a Home, Bymeby." And the thunders of encore that came from the outside listeners, showed how surely he had touched upon a pleasant chord. He followed that with several modern serio-comic songs, all of which were received well and heartily applauded.
"That recalls memories of good old times," said the road-agent, as he leaned back against the door-sill, and gazed at the mountains, grand, majestic, stupendous, and the starlit sky, azure, calm and serene. "Recalls the days of early boyhood, that were gay, pure, and happy. Ah! ho!"
He heaved a deep sign, and his head dropped upon his breast.
A deathlike silence pervaded the cabin; that one heartfelt sigh aroused a sensation of pity in each of the four hearts that beat within the cabin walls.
That the road-agent was a gentleman in disguise, was not to be gainsayed; all felt that, despite his outlawed calling, he was deserving of a place among them, in his better moods.
As if to accord with his mood, Alice began a sweet birdlike song, full of tender pathos, and of quieting sympathy.
It was a quaint Scottish melody,—rich in its honeyed meaning, sweetly weird and pitiful; wonderfully soothing and nourishing to a weeping spirit.
Clear and flute-like the maiden's cultured voice swelled out on the still night air, and the mountain echoes caught up the strains and lent a wild peculiar accompaniment.
Deadwood Dick listened, with his head still bowed, and his hands clasped about one knee;—listened in a kind of fascination, until the last reverberations of the song had died out in a wailing echo; then he sprung abruptly to his feet, drew one hand wearily across the masked brow; raised his sombrero with a deft movement, and bowed himself out—out into the night, where the moon and stars looked down at him, perhaps with more lenience than on some.
Alice Terry rose from her seat, crossed over to the door, and gazed after the straight handsome form, until it had mingled with the other road-agents, who had camped upon the slope. Then she turned about, and sat down on the couch beside Anita.
"You are still, dear," she said, stroking the other's long, unconfined hair. "Are you lonely? If not why don't you say something?"
"I have nothing to say," replied Anita, a sad, sweet smile playing over her features. "I have been too much taken up with the music to think of talking."
"But, you are seldom talkative."
"So brother used to tell me. He said I had lost my heart, and tongue."
Redburn was drumming on the window-casing with his fingers;—a sort of lonely tattoo it was.
"You seemed to be much interested in the outlaw. Miss Terry," he observed, as if by chance the thought had just occurred to him, when, in reality, he was downright jealous. "Had you two ever met—"
"Certainly not, sir," and Alice flashed him an inquiring glance. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh! for no reason, in particular, only I fancied that song was meant especially for him."
Redburn, afterward, would have given a hundred dollars to have recalled those words, for the haughty, half-indignant look Alice gave him instantly showed him he was on the wrong track.
If he wished to court her favor, it must be in a different way, and he must not again give her a glimpse of his jealous nature.
"You spoke of a brother," said Alice, turning to Anita. "Does he live here with you?"
"Yes, when not away on business. He has now been absent for over a month."
"Indeed! Is he as sweet, sad, and silent as yourself?"
"Oh! no; Ned is unlike me; he is buoyant, cheerful, pleasant."
"Ned? What is his full name, dear?"
"Edward Harris."
Alice grew suddenly pale and speechless, as she remembered the handsome young miner whom Fearless Frank had slain in the duel, just outside of Deadwood. This, then, was his sister; and evidently she as yet knew nothing of his sad fate.
"Do you know aught concerning Edward Harris?" Redburn asked, seeing her agitation. Alice considered a moment.
"I do," she answered, at last. "This Fearless Frank, whom I came here with, had a duel with a man, just above Deadwood, whose name was Edward Harris!"
"My God;—and his fate—?"
"He was instantly killed, and left lying where he dropped!"
There was a scream of agony, just here, and a heavy fall.
Anita had fainted!
Redburn sprung from his seat, ran over to her side, and raised her tenderly in his arms.
"Poor thing!" he murmured, gazing into her pale, still face, "the shock was too much for her. No wonder she fainted." He laid her on the couch, and kept off the others who crowded around.
"Bring cold water!" he ordered, "and I will soon have her out of this fit."
Alice hastened to obey, and Anita's face and hands were bathed in the cooling liquid until she began to show signs of returning consciousness.
"You may now give me the particulars of the affair," Redburn said, rising and closing the door, for a chilly breeze was sweeping into the cabin.
Alice proceeded to comply with his request by narrating what had occurred and, as nearly as possible, what had been said. When she had concluded, he gazed down for several moments thoughtfully into the face of Anita. There was much yet that was beyond his powers of comprehension—a knotty problem for which he saw no immediate solution.
"What do you think about it, "General"?" he asked, turning to the mine-locater. "Have we sufficient evidence to hang this devil in scarlet?"
"Hardly, boyee, hardly. 'Peers te me, 'cordin' to ther gal's tell, thet thar war a fair shake all around, an' as duelin' ar' more or less ther fashun 'round these parts,—considera'bly more o' less 'n less o' more—et ain't law-fell ter yank a critter up by ther throat!"
"I know it is not, according to the customs of this country of the Black Hills; but, look at it. That fellow, who I am satisfied is a black-hearted knave, has not only taken the life of poor Harris, but, very probably, has given his sister her death-blow. The question is: should he go unpunished in the face of all this evidence?"
"Yes. Let him go; I will be the one to punish him!"
It was Anita who spoke. She had partly arisen on the couch; her face was streaked with water and slightly haggard; her hair blew unconfined about her neck and shoulders; her eyes blazed with a wild, almost savage fire.