CHAPTER IV.
SAD ANITA--THE MINE LOCATER--TROUBLE
Straight toward the door of the saloon he marched, the muzzles of thegrim sixes clearing a path to him; for Ned Harris had becomenotorious in Deadwood for his coolness, courage and audacity. It hadbeen said of him that he would "just es lief shute a man as ter lookat 'im," and perhaps the speaker was not far from right.
Anyway, he led off through the savage-faced audience with a composurethat was remarkable, and, strange to say, not a hand was raised tostop him until he came face to face with Catamount Cass and his gang;here was where the youth had expected molestation and hindrance, ifanywhere.
Catamount Cass was a rough, illiterate "tough" of the mountainspecies, and possessed more brute courage than the general run of histype of men, and a bull-dog determination that made him all the moredangerous as an enemy.
Harry Redburn kept close at Ned Harris' heels, a cocked "six" ineither hand ready for any emergency.
It took but a few moments before the two parties met, the "Cattymount"throwing out his foot to block the path.
"Hello!" roared the "tough," folding his huge knotty arms across hispartially bared breast; "ho! ho! whoa up thar, pilgrims! Don' ye goter bein' so fast. Fo'kes harn't so much in a hurry now-'days as theyuster war. Ter be sure ther Lord manyfactered this futstool in sevendays; sum times I think he did, an' then, ag'in, my geological ijeesconvince me he didn't."
"What has that to do with us?" demanded Ned, sternly. "I opine ye'dbetter spread, some of you, if you don't want me to run a canyonthrough your midst. Preach to some other pilgrim than me; I'm in ahurry!"
"Haw! haw! Yas, I obsarve ye be; but if ye're my meat, an' I thinkprob'ble ye be, I ain't a-goin' fer ter let yer off so nice and easy.P'arps ye kin tell who fired the popgun, a minnit ago, w'at basted myole pard?"
"I shall not take trouble to tell!" replied Ned, fingering the triggerof his left six uneasily. "Ef you want to know who salted ChetDiamond, the worst blackleg, trickster and card-player in Dakota, allyou've got to do is to go and ask him!"
"Hold!" cried Harry Redburn, stepping out from behind Harris; "I'llhide behind no man's shoulder. _I_ salted the gambler--if you callshooting salting--and I'm not afraid to repeat the action by salting adozen more just of his particular style."
Ned Harris was surprised.
He had set Redburn down as a faint-hearted, dubious-couragedcounter-jumper from the East; he saw now that there was something ofhim, after all.
"Come on, young man!" and the young miner stepped forward a pace; "areyou with me?"
"To the ears!" replied Harris, grimly.
The next instant the twain leaped forward and broke the barrier, andmid the crack of pistol-shots and shouts of rage, they cleared thesaloon. Once outside, Ned Harris led the way.
"Come along!" he said, dodging along the shadowy side of the street;"we'll have to scratch gravel, for them up-range 'toughs' will followus, I reckon. They're a game gang, and 'hain't the most desirable kindof enemies one could wish for. I'll take you over to my coop, and youcan lay low there until this jamboree blows over. You'll have topromise me one thing, however, ere I can admit you as a member of myhousehold."
"Certainly. What is it?" and Harry Redburn redoubled his efforts inorder to keep alongside his swift-footed guide.
"Promise me that you will divulge nothing, no matter what you may seeor hear. Also that, should you fall in love with one who is a memberof my family, you will forbear and not speak of love to her."
"It is a woman, then?"
"Yes--a young lady."
"I will promise;--how can I afford to do otherwise, under the existingcircumstances. But, tell me, why did you force me to shoot thatgambler?"
"He was a rascal, and cheated you."
"I know; but I did not want his life; I am averse to bloodshed."
"So I perceived, and that made me all the more determined you shouldsalivate him. You'll find before you're in the Hills long that itwon't do to take lip or lead from any one. A green pilgrim is thefirst to get salted; I illustrated how to serve 'em!"
Redburn's eyes sparkled. He was just beginning to see into thedifferent phases of this wild exciting life.
"Good!" he exclaimed, warmly. "I have much to thank you for. Did Ikill that card-sharp?"
"No; you simply perforated him in the right side. This way."
They had been running straight up the main street. Now they turned acorner and darted down one that was dark and deserted.
A moment later a trim boyish figure stepped before them, from out ofthe shadow of a new frame building; a hand of creamy whiteness waslaid upon the arm of Ned Harris.
"This way, pilgrims," said a low musical voice, and at the sameinstant a gust of wind lifted the jaunty sombrero from the speaker'shead, revealing a most wonderful wealth of long glossy hair; "the'toughs' are after you, and you cannot find a better place to coopthan in here." The soft hand drew Ned Harris inside the building,which was finished, but unoccupied, and Redburn followed, nothing lothto get into a place of safety. So far, Deadwood had not impressed himfavorably as being the most peaceable city within the scope of acontinent.
Into an inner room of the building they went, and the door was closedbehind them. The apartment was small and smelled of green lumber. Atable and a few chairs comprised the furniture; a dark lantern burnedsuspended from the ceiling by a wire. Redburn eyed the strange youthas he and Harris were handed seats.
Of medium hight and symmetrically built; dressed in a carefully tannedcostume of buck-skin, the vest being fringed with the fur of the mink;wearing a jaunty Spanish sombrero; boots on the dainty feet of patentleather, with tops reaching to the knees; a face slightly sun-burned,yet showing the traces of beauty that even excessive dissipation couldnot obliterate; eyes black and piercing; mouth firm, resolute, anddevoid of sensual expression: hair of raven color and of remarkablelength;--such was the picture of the youth as beheld by Redburn andHarris.
"You can remain here till you think it will be safe to again ventureforth, gentlemen," and a smile--evidently a stranger there--broke outabout the speaker's lips. "Good-evening!" "Good-evening!" noddedHarris, with a quizzical stare. The next moment the youth was gone.
"Who was that chap?" asked Redburn, not a little bewildered.
"That?--why that's Calamity Jane!"
"Calamity Jane? _What_ a name."
"Yes, she's an odd one. Can ride like the wind, shoot like asharp-shooter, and swear like a trooper. Is here, there andeverywhere, seemingly all at one time. Owns this coop and two or threeother lots in Deadwood; a herding ranch at Laramie, an interest in apaying placer claim near Elizabeth City, and the Lord only knows howmuch more."
"But it is not a _woman_?"
"Reckon 'tain't nothin' else."
"God forbid that a child of mine should ever become so debased and--"
"Hold! there are yet a few redeeming qualities about her. She was_ruined_--" and here a shade dark as a thunder-cloud passed over NedHarris' face--"and set adrift upon the world, homeless and friendless;yet she has bravely fought her way through the storm, without askinganybody's assistance. True, she may not now have a heart; that wastrampled upon, years ago, but her character has not suffered blemishsince the day a foul wretch stole away her honor!"
"What is her real name?"
"I do not know; few in Deadwood do. It is said, however, that shecomes of a Virginia City, Nevada, family of respectability andintelligence."
At this juncture there was a great hubbub outside, and instinctivelythe twain drew their revolvers, expecting that Catamount Cass and histoughs had discovered their retreat, and were about to make an attack.But soon the gang were beard to tramp away, making the night hideouswith their hoarse yells.
"They'll pay a visit to every shanty in Deadwood," said Harris, with agrim smile, "and if they don't find us, which they won't, they'llh'ist more than a barrel of bug-juice over their defeat. Come, let'sbe going."
They left the building and once
more emerged onto the darkened street,Ned taking the lead.
"Follow me, now," he said, tightening his belt, "and we'll get homebefore sunrise, after all."
He struck out up the gulch, or, rather, down it, for his course laysouthward. Redburn followed, and in fifteen minutes the lights ofDeadwood--magic city of the wilderness--were left behind. Harris ledthe way along the rugged mountain stage-road, that, after leavingDeadwood on its way to Camp Crook and Custer City in the south, runsalternately through deep, dark canyons and gorges, with an ease andrapidity that showed him to be well acquainted with the route. Aboutthree miles below Deadwood he struck a trail through a transversecanyon running north-west, through which flowed a small stream, knownas Brown's creek. The bottom was level and smooth, and a brisk walk ofa half-hour brought them to where a horse was tied to an aldersapling.
"You mount and ride on ahead until you come to the end of the canyon,"said Harris, untying the horse. "I will follow on after you, and bethere almost as soon as you."
Redburn would have offered some objections, but the other motioned forhim to mount and be off, so he concluded it best to obey.
The animal was a fiery one, and soon carried him out of sight of Ned,whom he left standing in the yellow moonlight. Sooner than he expectedthe gorge came to an abrupt termination in the face of a stupendouswall of rock, and nothing remained to do but wait for young Harris.
He soon came, trotting leisurely up, only a trifle flushed incountenance.
"This way!" he said, and seizing the animal by the bit he led horseand rider into a black, gaping fissure in one side of the canyon, thathad hitherto escaped Redburn's notice. It was a large, narrow,subterranean passage, barely large enough to admit the horse andrider. Redburn soon was forced to dismount and bring up the rear.
"How far do we journey in this shape?" he demanded, after what seemedto him a long while.
"No further," replied Ned, and the next instant they emerged into asmall, circular pocket in the midst of the mountains--one of thosebeauteous flower-strewn valleys which are often found in the BlackHills.
This "pocket," as they are called, consisted of perhaps fifty acres,walled in on every side by rugged mountains as steep, and steeper, insome places, than a house-roof. On the western side Brown's creek hadits source, and leaped merrily down from ledge to ledge into thevalley, across which it flowed, sinking into the earth on the easternside, only to bubble up again, in the canyon, with renewed strength.
The valley was one vast, indiscriminate bed of wild, fragrant flowers,whose volume of perfume was almost sickening when first greeting thenostrils. Every color and variety imaginable was here, all in the mostperfect bloom. In the center of the valley stood a log-cabin,overgrown with clinging vines. There was a light in the window, andHarris pointed toward it, as, with young Redburn, he emerged from thefissure.
"There's my coop, pilgrim. There you will be safe for a time, atleast." He unsaddled the horse and set it free to graze.
Then they set off down across the slope, arriving at the cabin in duetime.
The door was open; a young woman, sweet, yet sad-faced, was seatedupon the steps, fast asleep.
Redburn gave an involuntary cry of incredulity and admiration as hiseyes rested upon the picture--upon the pure, sweet face, surrounded bya wealth of golden, glossy hair, and the sylph-like form, so perfectin every contour. But a charge of silence from Harris, made him mute.
The young man knelt by the side of the sleeping girl and imprinted akiss upon the fresh, unpolluted lips, which caused the sleeping beautyto smile in her dreams.
A moment later, however, she opened her eyes and sprung to her feetwith a startled scream.
"Oh, Ned!" she gasped, trembling, as she saw him, "how you frightenedme. I had a dream--oh, such a sweet dream! and I thought _he_ came andkissed--"
Suddenly did she stop as, for the first time, her penetrating blueeyes rested upon Harry Blackburn.
A moment she gazed at him as in a sort of fascination; then, with alow cry, began to retreat, growing deathly pale. Ned Harris steppedquickly forward and supported her on his arm.
"Be calm, Anita," he said, in a gentle, reassuring tone. "This is ayoung gentleman whom I have brought here to our home for a few daysuntil it will be safe for him to be seen in Deadwood. Mr. Redburn, Imake you acquainted with Anita."
A courteous bow from Redburn, a slight inclination of Anita's head,and the introduction was made. A moment later the three entered thecabin, a model of neatness and primitive luxury.
"How is it that you are up so early, dear?" young Harris asked, as heunbuckled his belt and hung it upon a peg in the wall. "You are rarelyas spry, eh?"
"Indeed! I have not been to bed at all," replied the girl, a wearysmile wreathing her lips. "I was nervous, and feared something wasgoing to happen, so I staid up."
"Your old plea--the presentiment of coming danger, I suppose," and theyouth laughed, gayly. "But you need not fear. No one will invade ourlittle Paradise, right away. What is your opinion of it, Redburn?"
"I should say not. I think this little mountain retreat is withoutequal," replied Harry, with enthusiasm. "The only wonder is, how didyou ever stumble into such a delightful place."
"Of that I will perhaps tell you, another time," said Harris,musingly.
Day soon dawned over the mountains, and the early morning sunlightfell with charming effect into the little "pocket," with its countlessthousands of odorous flowers, and the little ivy-clad cabin nestlingdown among them all.
Sweet, sad-faced Anita prepared a sumptuous morning repast out ofantelope-steak and the eggs of wild birds, with dainty side dishes oflate summer berries, and a large luscious melon which had been grownon a cultivated patch, contiguous to the cabin.
Both Harris and his guest did ample justice to the meal, for they hadneither eaten anything since the preceding noon. When they hadfinished, Ned arose from the table, saying: "Pardner, I shall leaveyou here for a few days, during which time I shall probably be mostlyaway on business. Make yourself at home and see that Anita is properlyprotected; I will return in a week at the furthest;--perhaps in a dayor two."
He took down his rifle and belt from the wall, buckled on the latter,and half an hour later left the "pocket." That was a day of days toHarry Redburn. He rambled about the picturesque little valley, rompedon the luxuriant grass and gathered wild flowers, alternately. Atnight he sat in the cabin door and listened to the cries of the nightbirds and the incessant hooting of the mountain owls (which by theway, are very abundant throughout the Black Hills.)
All efforts to engage Anita in conversation proved fruitless.
On the following day both were considerably astonished to perceivethat there was a stranger in their Paradise;--a bow-legged,hump-backed, grisly little old fellow, who walked with a staff. Heapproached the cabin, and Redburn went out to find who he was.
"Gude-mornin'!" nodded General Nix, (for it was he) with a grin. "Ijes' kim over inter this deestrict ter prospect fer gold. Don' seemter recognize yer unkle, eh? boy; I'm Nix Walsingham Nix, Esquire,geological surveyor an' mine-locater. I've located more nor fortythousan' mines in my day, more or less--ginerally a consider'ble moreof less than less of more. I perdict frum ther geological formation o'this nest an' a dream I hed last night, thet thar's sum uv therbiggest veins right in this yere valley as ye'll find in ther Hills!"
"Humph! no gold here," replied Redburn, who had already learned fromstudy and experience how to guess a fat strike. "It is out of thechannel."
"No; et's right in the channel."
"Well, I'll not dispute you. How did you get into the valley?"
"Through ther pass," and the General chuckled approvingly. "See'd afeller kim down ther canyon, yesterday, so I nosed about ter findwhar he kim from, that's how I got here; 'sides, I hed a dream aboutthis place."
"Indeed!" Redburn was puzzled how to act under the circumstances. Justthen there came a piercing scream from the direction of the cabin.
What could it mean? W
as Nix an enemy, and was some one else of hisgang attacking Anita?
Certainly she _was_ in trouble!