THE ARRIVAL AT BIG BONANZA.
It was just about five o'clock in the afternoon of a cool day in autumn
when Young Wild West and his friends rode into a little mining camp
called Big Bonanza, which was situated in the heart of the range, known
as the Silver Bend Mountains, Nevada.
It was the first signs of anything like civilization that the party had
seen in two days, and though there were but half a dozen little shanties
in it, the sight of it was a welcome one.
Young Wild West was beyond a doubt the greatest and best known of the
heroes of the Wild West, and though but a boy in years, he had made a
name for himself that many an elder person would have been proud to own.
He had earned the title of the Champion Deadshot of the West by his
remarkable skill with the rifle and revolver, and he was ever ready to
defend the title against all comers.
Many of his warmest friends called him the Prince of the Saddle, because
he was without a peer at breaking and riding the wildest and most
vicious horses of the West.
When upon the back of the beautiful sorrel stallion he always rode he
made a picture that was dashing and handsome in the extreme. When on his
trips through the wildest parts of the Great West he invariably was
attired in a fancy buckskin hunting suit, and with his sombrero tipped
well back upon his head, he surely showed up as a dashing young hero.
The flash in his eye told of his courage and persistence, while his
athletic form betokened his strength and quickness.
But of all his qualifications to make up a dashing young Westerner his
greatest was his coolness and fixed purpose to do right, no matter what
the cost might be.
Few, indeed, are possessed of such sterling qualities, and it is only
those who are that make real heroes.
But, as we have already stated, and the majority of our readers know,
Young Wild West was a genuine boy hero of the Wild West, and that is
only saying the truth.
Being the owner of several gold and silver mines, the young deadshot had
an income that was more than sufficient to permit him to pursue his
favorite hobby, which was riding about through the wildest parts of the
states and territories in search of adventure.
At the time of which we write there was plenty of excitement and
adventure to be found in that region, and Young Wild West was helping
along the advance of civilization, which, by the way, has not reached
all parts of the West yet, speaking in a true sense, and reckoning in
law and order.
In company with our boy hero were his two partners, Cheyenne Charlie and
Jim Dart, and two very pretty young girls and a young woman.
Cheyenne Charlie was a government scout and one of the best known
Indian-fighters of his time. He was yet a young pan, and though he had
been "through the mill," as the saying goes, he was better satisfied to
be led than to lead, and thus it was that he had cast his lot with Wild.
The scout was a tall man, straight as an arrow, and his long black hair
and mustache, together with his bronzed face, gave him the appearance of
being just what he was--an out-and-out Westerner.
Jim Dart was a boy of about the same age as our hero, born and reared in
the West, and though he seldom had much to say, he was full of grit, and
always ready to do his share.
The two were known as the partners of Young Wild West, and they always
dressed in the same style he did.
The two girls of the party were Arietta Murdock, the charming sweetheart
of our hero, and Eloise Gardner, Jim Dart's sweetheart; the young woman
was the wife of Cheyenne Charlie, and her name was Anna.
The girls, as they always called them, loved to travel around with our
hero and his partners, and they had learned to look upon the dangers
they were constantly coming in contact with rather lightly.
Arietta was the only one of the three who had been born and reared in
the West, but Anna and Eloise had been there long enough to become
accustomed to its ways, and they could ride horseback and shoot with
great skill.
Two Chinamen, who were riding bronchos and leading pack-horses, were
with our friends, and as they came to a halt in front of a saloon that
had a sign across the front declaring it to be a hotel, one of them
hastily dismounted, and before Young Wild West and the rest knew what he
was up to he disappeared around the corner of the shanty.
There were three men, besides the man who ran the saloon, in front of
the roughly-constructed building, and they seemed to be cowboys, by
their general appearance.
All four of the men were regarding the new arrivals with no little
interest, and when the Chinaman slid around the corner of the shanty one
of them called out:
"One of your heathens is dry, I reckon, strangers. I'll bet he's headin'
fur ther back door."
"Yer kin bet your life on that!" Cheyenne Charlie answered. "Hop likes
his tanglefoot once in a while, an' he never loses a chance ter git it."
"Well, if that's ther case I'd better go in an' wait on ther galoot,
then," spoke up the proprietor of the place. "We ain't used ter seein'
gals around here, an' I sorter hate ter leave, too. But business is
business."
The man spoke in a way that was not meant to be disrespectful, for what
he had said was undoubtedly the truth. The few inhabitants of Big
Bonanza were not in the habit of seeing female visitors.
"Well, gentlemen," said Young Wild West, "we have just dropped in here
by accident, and I reckon if there's no objection we'll camp around here
somewhere until morning. We are making a trip across the state, and we
are going in a straight line as much as possible. What we happen to
strike makes little difference to us; whether it is a mining camp or a
desert. We are used to all kinds of traveling, and generally go prepared
for anything."
"Talks like he was someone what sorter knows all about things, eh,
boys?" remarked the cowboy who had called out that the Chinaman was
heading for the back door to get into the saloon.
"Yes," answered one of his companions, while the other gave a nod.
"Looks as neat as a pin, too, don't he?" went on the man, who evidently
took it that our hero was a boy fond of showing off in an expensive
costume, and that he did not amount to a great deal.
"They all look neat," one of the others observed. "Them gals is sartinly
worth lookin' at, ain't they? They've struck it rich somewhere, an' ther
first big town they come ter they've bought new clothes. I reckon I kin
judge things all right."
"So you think you can judge pretty well, eh?" said Young Wild West, as
he dismounted. "Well, what do you take me to be?"
"A putty smart boy, who thinks it looks nice ter have his hair long, an'
who likes ter put on lugs 'cause he's got some putty gals with him,"
answered the cowboy, after a slight pause.
"So that is your opinion, is it?"
"I reckon it is, young feller."
"Well, don't you think a person has a right to wear good clothes if he
can well afford it?"
"Oh, yes. I ain't sayin' nothin' about that. But clothes don't make ther
man--or boy, either. How long have you been West, Sonny?"
"How long have you been West?"
"About fifteen years, I reckon."
"Well, I can beat you by three or four years, then. Anything more you
would like to know?"
"Oh, tell him ter dry up, Luke!" said the first speaker. "What's ther
use of talkin' ter ther young dandy? Him an' ther other boy has hired
ther man they've got with 'em ter take 'em around an' show 'em ther
sights; an' they've, got ther man rigged out in buckskin an' fancy
trimmin's, jest ter make 'em all attract attention. I'll bet I'm right
on that!"
He turned to our hero as he said this and acted as though he was sure he
was right.
"How much will you bet, you windy galoot?"
As Young Wild West said this he drew a roll of bills from his pocket and
showed it to the three cowboys.
It was just then that the saloon-keeper appeared in the door, and behind
him was the Chinaman who had sneaked in at the rear door of the shanty.
"What's all this talk about, gents?" he asked. "I hear some putty loud
talk, so there must be somethin' goin' on."
"Oh, there isn't anything going on yet; but there might be, if the
fellows don't get a little more civil," our hero answered, coolly. "It
seems that they are trying to pick a row just because we have on better
clothes than they have. If they are looking for anything like that I
reckon they can get it mighty quick."
"Wow!" exclaimed the most talkative of the three cowboys. "Did you hear
that, boys? Well, well! Who would have thought it?"
Cheyenne Charlie acted as though he would like to take a hand in the
controversy, but he managed to keep quiet.
Jim Dart and the girls were looking on with smiles on their faces, while
the Chinaman, looking out of the doorway, over the shoulder of the
keeper of the saloon, actually grinned with delight.
They all knew that Young Wild West was quite able to take care of all
three of the men if it became necessary and they also knew that
something was likely to happen very soon.
The two companions of the talkative cowboy laughed uproariously.
They evidently agreed with him that the boy was away off in his remarks.
Cheyenne Charlie could keep still no longer.
"Jest show ther galoots that yer ain't foolin', Wild," he said. "Shake
'em up it little."
"Lat light, Misler Wild!" called out the Chinaman, from the door. "Makee
allee samee be polite, so be."
"Shet up, you heathen!" roared the nearest cowboy, and with that he
caught the Celestial by the pig-tail and pulled him out.
A kick followed this and the Son of the Flowery Kingdom let out a yell
of pain.
Biff!
Young Wild West darted forward and struck the cowboy a blow on the
breast that sent him reeling.
"If you insist on it I'll give it to you good and straight," he said,
calmly. "How do you like that?"
Biff!
This time he landed one on the man's ribs, and down he went in a heap.
The other two started to interfere, but out went the boy's left and one
of them landed on all fours in a jiffy.
Spat!
Our hero's right caught the other on the chin and he went, too.
As was to be expected, all three of the cowboys made moves to pull their
guns.
But Young Wild West got ahead of them.
"Let go of those playthings--quick!" he shouted. "I will show you
galoots that you have got to be more civil with us. Get up and say you
are sorry for interfering with us."
There was something about the manner of the boy that told them that they
really had made a mistake. The revolver was held by a hand that was
steady as a rock, and there was no doubt in their minds but that lead
would fly from it if they disobeyed.
They let go their revolvers and scrambled to their feet.
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Cheyenne Charlie. "A fine lot of galoots you are!
Young Wild West is only a boy, all right, but I reckon he kin lick a
stagecoach load of sich fellers as you are! Make 'em do ther tenderfoot
dance, Wild. Go on--jest fur fun!"
"All right, Charlie," was the reply, and the young deadshot fired a shot
that hit the ground near the feet of the spokesman of the trio.
"Hold on!" the cowboy shouted. "It's all right, Young Wild West. I know
who yer are now. I'll 'pologize. Don't shoot no more!"
Crack!
Again the boy fired, and then all three, knowing what was wanted of
them, began to dance for all they were worth.
Crack--crack!
Cheyenne Charlie now took a hand in the game, and, while the girls and
Jim Dart laughed merrily, the three cowboys did the "tenderfoot dance"
in fine shape.
Both Wild and the scout fired three or four shots apiece, and some of
them took chips off the high heels of the boots the cowboys wore.
"I reckon that will be about all," said our hero, as he ejected the
shells from his revolver and then coolly proceeded to reload the
chambers. "You galoots will know better the next time. I don't much like
the looks of you, but I want to tell you that if you happen to take a
notion to get square with us for what has happened you'll get the worst
of it. I hope you understand what I say."
The rascals--for they were undoubtedly such--did not stop to make a
reply, but darted into the saloon.
The Chinaman gave a parting laugh, and then, turning to the other
Celestial, observed:
"Me havee velly nallow escapee, my blother."
"You allee samee velly muchee fool!" was the retort. "You allee timee
lookee for um tanglefoot, so be."
"Me havee two velly nicee lillee dlinks, my blother; you no havee."
"Me no wantee," was the scornful rejoinder.
It was Wing, the cook, who claimed he did not want any whisky.
He was just a common, everyday Chinee, who did his work well and slept
whenever he had nothing else to do, providing no one disturbed him.
Hop, on the other hand, was one of the very shrewd and cunning ones of
his race.
Gifted with the art of sleight-of-hand, a lover of gambling and a
fondness for playing jokes on people had made him a great character,
indeed.
But he was a real fixture to the party that Young Wild West led, and as
he had on more than one occasion been the means of saving the lives of
different members of it through his cleverness, he was thought a great
deal of by them all, and many of his shortcomings were overlooked.
Having disposed of the cowboys, Young Wild West now asked the keeper of
the saloon if he thought there would be any objections to their pitching
a camp somewhere around in the vicinity.
"I reckon not," was the reply. "There ain't no one as lives here in Big
Bonanza, what would 'ject ter anything like that. They've all heard tell
about Young Wild West, I reckon, an' some of 'em says as how they've
seen yer. Yer kin bet that yer will be welcome here! Jest help
yourselves ter any spot yer want."
"Thank you. I thought perhaps some one might raise objections--the three
cowboys, for instance."
"Oh, they're strangers here. I never seen them until this afternoon.
They must have come a putty long ways, fur there ain't a ranch in a
hundred miles of here, as I knows of. Go ahead an' pick out a place ter
camp. Ther boys will be here in a few minutes, fur it's about quittin'
time now. I'll tell 'em that Young Wild West, ther champion deadshot, is
here, an' you kin bet that they'll give yer a royal welcome!"