MASKED AND MERCILESS.
Dave Dockery had taken the place of driver on the Last Chance trail,
after Bud Benton had been killed on the box by unknown parties.
Dave Dockery was as shrewd as he was brave, and bore many scars of
wounds received in the discharge of his duty, his nerve and endurance,
it was said, saving his life where other men would surely have been
killed.
The coach out from Last Chance had gone on its dangerous run with a very
large sum in gold-dust, but Dave had gotten safely through with it, and
was congratulated by all who knew the chances he had taken of losing
treasure and life.
He had heard with regret, after reaching his eastern destination, that
he was to be put to an equal strain going back, for a large sum of money
in bank-bills was to be sent back to Last Chance in payment for several
mines purchased there by outsiders.
Dave was told that the box contained at least thirty thousand dollars,
and so he hid it away as best he could in the coach.
He also was carrying out as freight a dozen rifles of the last and most
improved repeating pattern, and double as many revolvers, intended for
the vigilantes of Last Chance, and who were personally unknown to any of
the miners, though it was suspected that either Landlord Larry, the
hotel-keeper, judge, storekeeper, and proprietor of the largest
gambling-saloon in the place, or Doctor Dick, the gambler gold king, was
the secret leader.
Whoever the vigilante captain and his men might be, it was certain that
they had a good influence over the most lawless spirits in the mines,
the fact of their being unknown greatly aiding their good effect.
Dave Dockery had hoped that he would have a stage-load of passengers
upon the run to Last Chance, for he liked to have a crowd along, and
then he felt that they were a safeguard as well, as in numbers there is
strength.
But, when the starting-time came, only two passengers appeared, one of
them a miner going out to Last Chance to hunt for a fortune, and the
other a young man who told Dave Dockery that he was only traveling from
a love of adventure, and enjoyed the wild life he thus far had met with.
He gave Dave a bunch of good cigars, showed him a silver flask of fine
brandy, and was promptly invited to ride upon the box with him, an
invitation that was as promptly accepted.
Out of the little settlement rolled the coach, followed by a cheer from
the crowd gathered to see it depart, for the going and coming of the
coaches in border places are events of great moment to the dwellers
there.
The young man in search of adventure was upon the box with Dave, and the
miner passenger was inside, where it was safer for him to ride, as he
was in a hopeless state of intoxication.
The horses dashed away in fine style, enthused by the cheer of the
crowd, and Dave looked happy and proud, while his companion on the box
appeared to enjoy the scene immensely.
The young stranger was well dressed, for he had donned what was suitable
for frontier roughing it, and wore in his belt a single revolver, as a
means of defense rather than for show or bravado.
He had a fine face, fearless and frank, and looked like a man of
refinement and education.
Dave Dockery was a good reader of human nature and took to his passenger
at once, being really greatly pleased with his companionship.
Three-fourths of the trail had been gone over without adventure, the
three stops at the relay-stations, for changes of horses and meals for
passengers, having been made on time, and Last Chance was only a dozen
miles away, when, as they neared a dreary-looking spot in a gorge, Dave
said:
"There is where poor Bud Benton passed in his chips, pard, and I tell
you I don't like the spot a bit."
Hardly had he uttered the words when a sharp report rang out and Dave
Dockery fell back upon the coach and lay motionless, while out of the
shadows spurred a horseman dressed in black and wearing a red mask.
With his revolver leveled at the stranger he said sharply:
"Your turn next, sir, for I am out for blood and gold."
Riding on the box with Dave Dockery, the young stranger had heard much
of the wild ways of the border, and had been told that it would be
madness to resist a "hold-up" of a coach, unless the chances were well
on the side of those attacked.
When, therefore, the sharp report of a revolver had been followed by the
toppling over of poor Dave, and a masked horseman rode out of the
shadows of the cliff, his revolver covering him, the young man did not
just know what to do.
He had with him a few hundred in money, his watch, chain, and a few
articles of value, with some papers of importance.
That the masked horseman was alone he could not believe, and yet he had,
against all traditions of the border, begun by firing upon Dave Dockery,
and not ordering him to halt first.
That he had fired to kill the bullet-wound in the breast, and the
motionless form of the driver as he lay back upon the top of the coach,
were in evidence.
Now he stood the chance himself of life and death, and he awaited the
ordeal with white, but calm face.
The horses had stopped in their tracks, and though no other persons were
visible the stranger looked for others to appear. The thought flashed
across him that he must lose all he had with him, but his life he could
not believe was in danger, yet why the masked road-agent had killed
Dockery without mercy he could not understand.
"Do you mean to take my life, man?"
"That depends whether it is worth more to kill you than to let you
live," was the businesslike reply.
But hardly had he spoken when from out of the coach window came a flash
and report. The miner within, awakening to a sense of his danger, had
taken a hand in the affair.
The bullet barely missed the head of the masked horseman, who at once
returned the fire, aiming first, however, at the young man on the box.
With a groan the latter fell heavily to the ground, his revolver
half-drawn from its holster, and the murderer, leaping from his saddle,
took refuge among the horses while he called out:
"I have killed your two comrades, and you share the same fate unless you
surrender."
"I cry quits, pard," came in frightened tones from the coach, and the
man was evidently now sobered and greatly alarmed.
"Then come out!"
The miner quickly threw open the stage door, put his foot upon the step
and then peered cautiously toward his foe.
Instantly there came a shot, and, without a moan, he pitched forward
head foremost and fell in a heap between the wheels.
"Any more?" called out the road-agent sternly.
No answer came, and, revolvers in hand, he stepped to one side and
opened fire at the coach. He fired with both hands, and did not cease
until he had emptied his weapons and riddled the coach.
Then he unslung his rifle from his saddle-horn and cautiously
approached, ready to fire at the first sign of danger to himself.
But he had done his work well, and he had nothing to fear, so advancing
to the coach, found that it was empty.
Quickly he set about searching the vehicle for all of value that it
might carry. He found a roll of bills belonging to the miner, and a few
things of value in his valise.
The young man panned out for him nearly a thousand in money, and some
jewelry, and Dave Dockery was pretty well supplied with funds.
But the masked marauder searched rapidly on, and evidently looked for a
richer haul yet.
The box was found with the money in it, and a bullet fired from his
revolver shattered the lock.
"Ah! here is a haul worth all risks to get," he muttered, and the
contents of the chest were put in a sack and tied upon his saddle.
His work thus far had taken but a few minutes, and, apparently satisfied
with what booty he had secured, he shot one of the wheel-horses, to
prevent the team going on with the coach, and, mounting the splendid
animal he rode, and which was covered, head and all, with a black calico
covering, he dashed away down the pass at a gallop.