CHAPTER IX.

A CHANCE FOR HIS LIFE.

The interior of the cabin was home-like.

It showed evidences of a woman's care, and it was a most inviting

retreat.

Having several apartments, it was more than a cabin in the generally

accepted sense of the word, yet in outward appearance it was a cabin

nevertheless, being of logs.

Well furnished, it displayed an abundance of fancy articles that spoke

mutely of raids on the road and in towns to the north and south.

There were books, pictures, and musical instruments, proof that this

notorious road-agent had refinement of taste.

"Now, what are we going to do with him?" demanded Captain Joaquin.

"I'll try to make myself as little trouble to you as possible," said

Dick. "Put me anywhere that is convenient."

"How will this room do?" asked the young woman, opening a door near at

hand.

"Anywhere," said Dick.

"I was not speaking to you, sir," she snapped.

"Your pardon," said Dick, promptly.

"I suppose that will answer," growled the Red Rover. "He cannot

possibly get out of there handcuffed, that is certain. In with you."

"Pray put yourselves to as little trouble as possible on my account,"

Dick politely requested as he stepped into the room. "When you are at

leisure, Captain Joaquin, let me have an interview."

"To what purpose?" was demanded.

"You will, in justice, give me a chance for my life, of course."

"We will talk about that when I get ready," was the snarl. "For the

present you remain here."

He closed the door with that, and Dick heard him secure it on the other

side. The prince of detectives knew that he could look for little mercy

at the hands of the Red Rover.

The room into which Dick had been thrust was light. There was one

window, rather small and through which it would be impossible for the

prisoner to climb with his hands secured as they were. It gave him a

view of the side of the pocket opposite to the entrance.

There was a bed, a couple of chairs, and a stand, in the way of

furniture.

Dick threw himself on the bed, for his head was beating and throbbing

as if ready to split, and his wound was very painful, though slight.

He could hear Captain Joaquin and the woman talking in the main room of

the cabin, but could not make out what they were saying. He heard also

other voices from another direction.

These were the voices of two servants, a negress and a Mexican

half-breed woman.

After a time the door opened and the negress came in.

She was rather old.

"Whur'm dat dar so' head ob you's?" she demanded in thick fashion. "I's

gwine to dress hit fo' yo'."

"I guess you will find it on my shoulders yet, auntie," said Dick. "It

was there the last I knew anything about it, anyhow. I hope you can

ease the pain."

"Golly! I reckon I kin do dat dar, child. Yo' roll ober heah and let

old Sal git a squint at it, and see ef I don't make it feel better.

Golly! you did git a nasty one, shua 'nuff. One hair mo' to de

norf-east, and yo' was a goner, shua!"

Dick had to smile at her quaint expressions. He had been in a light

sleep, and felt better.

She had removed the bandage the young woman had put on.

Having brought with her a basin of water, she bathed the wound, and

that done, dressed it afresh with some kind of pounded leaves.

"Have you any idea what is going to be done with me?" Dick inquired,

while she was at work.

"Not a bit ob one, sah," she answered.

"How many are there in the house?" he asked.

"Only de captain and de missus, and us two old wimmin and yo'se'f."

"And when does the captain expect the others to come in? His men come

here, I suppose."

"Some ob 'em does, but not many. Some be heah to-night, I 'pine."

"And some others will never come," said Dick.

"Dar, dar yo' am," the old negress said with something of pride in her

tone. "Yo' jis' leab dat on dar an hour, and yo' won't know yo'se'f,

shua. No pain kin stay whur dat am."

"I hope you are right, auntie. The kindest old lady I ever knew looked

just like you. I hope you are right, and that you won't forget that I

am here when the grub is passed around. I am a trifle hungry, and a

drink of cold water would go particularly good just now."

"Yo' shall hab it, child, yo' jis' bet!"

She gathered up her basin and things and waddled out, for she was very

fat, and in a few minutes returned with a pitcher of sparkling water.

A draught of that made Dick feel better immediately, and he thanked the

woman in a way calculated to create a friendly feeling toward himself.

He might need her service in some other direction.

In a little while Captain Joaquin entered.

Dick was feeling much better, and was sitting up when the outlaw made

his appearance.

"Well, I have come to have that talk with you," he announced.

"Glad of it," said Dick, "I am lonesome."

"I have thought of a plan, and I am going to give you a chance for your

life about as good as you gave me."

"Ah! that so?"

"You will admit that the chance you gave me was not a great big one, I

suppose."

"It was just an even thing whether you killed me or I killed you,

Captain Joaquin. I am willing to take the same chance again."

"But I am not. You have the reputation of being a dead-shot, Deadwood

Dick, and you certainly felt confident of making cold meat of me when

you offered me that generous chance for my life."

"I certainly meant to, unless you performed that office for me," was

the cool admission.

"Well, I will give you just the same kind of a show."

"You will fight?"

"I said I would not. No, but I will give you an even chance for your

life, as promised."

"Well, I accept it. What is it?"

"No matter whether you accept it or not, it is yours. Some of my men

will be here during the night, and when they arrive I will carry out

the plan."

"You do not mean to let me know what it is?"

"If it will do you any good, I will tell you."

"I am somewhat personally interested."

The outlaw laughed harshly.

"Yes, I guess you are, too," he said. "Well, it will be an even chance

for your life, I promise you that," he added. "An equal number of white

and of black beans will be put into a bag, and you will be required to

draw one out. If it be white, you live; black, and you die at midnight."

Dick smiled grimly.

"Suppose I should draw a white one, does that give me my liberty?" he

asked.

"Not at once. You will be taken away from here blindfolded, and

detained ten days, at the end of which time you will be set free.

Meantime, I will have pulled up stakes here and given you the slip."

"And you will give me no other chance whatever?"

"No, sir."

"All right, I'll have to take what is offered, of course, and be glad

to get it, I suppose."

"You may be thankful for it, for, if you should draw the white, as you

say, it will mean a deuce of a lot of trouble for me, and all because I

feel bound to give you this chance."

"You are in honor bound to do that, no matter how small the chance

may be, after the way I risked my life against yours, giving you the

benefit of a doubt where I did not believe that a doubt existed at all.

I'll expect you, then, when your men arrive."

"As soon as they get here; I will not keep you waiting."

Deadwood Dick Jr. Branded; or, Red Rover at Powder Pocket. · 第 9 / 18 章