CHAPTER I.

DUSKY DICK:

OR,

OLD TOBY CASTOR'S GREAT CAMPAIGN

A STORY OF THE LAST SIOUX OUTBREAK.

BY JOS. E. BADGER, Jr.,

AUTHOR OF THE FOLLOWING POCKET NOVELS.

59. The Texas Hawks.

63. The Florida Scout.

NEW YORK:

BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,

98 WILLIAM STREET.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by

BEADLE AND COMPANY,

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

DUSKY DICK.

CHAPTER I.

DUSKY DICK'S PROPOSAL.

"Annie, girl, who is that coming up the spring path? Ah me! I fear my

old eyes are beginning to fail me at last!"

"Coming up the--ugh! father, it is that Dick Morgan!"

"Dusky Dick--what can he want here, I wonder?" and there was cadence of

mingled uneasiness and dislike perceptible in the old man's tones that

told but too plainly the advancing figure was not that of a welcome or

respected guest.

The first speaker was an old man, whose head was frosted by the snows

of over half a century and whose form--still athletic and supple--was

beginning to bow beneath the weight of years. An honest, open face was

that of old Edward Wilson; a true index of his heart.

He was sitting in the doorway of his humble log cabin, smoking the

well-blackened pipe as a dessert to supper, just finished. But as he

spoke the last words, he roused himself up and stood with crossed arms

in the doorway, as though he would fain bar the intruder out, who was

now within a few paces of the building.

The form of this man was clothed in a rough garb of tanned skin and

woolen stuff, despite the warm weather, and a broad-brimmed slouched

hat rested upon his head, concealing the upper portion of his face from

casual view. A long barreled rifle rested carelessly in the hollow of

his left arm, while the haft of a knife, and a revolver butt peeped

from the belt at his waist.

"Good evenin', Wilson, and the same to you, Miss Annie," he uttered

in a strong clear voice, as he half paused, and then with a careless

gesture pushed the hat away from his brow.

The clear mellow light of the full moon shone down upon him, and

fairly revealed his features. A glance at them may not be amiss, as

this worthy is destined to figure somewhat prominently in our narrative.

At the first glance, a strange peculiarity about him would attract the

gaze, and leave an unpleasant impression upon the mind of the beholder.

And yet it was not that the man was so hideous, in features.

But there was a strange tint to his entire face and neck that

involuntarily repelled one. And from this had come the _sobriquet_,

known far and wide throughout the western country of DUSKY DICK.

Indeed, more than one person who was well acquainted with him, would

have been puzzled to have told whether he ever had any other name, or

if this was not the one by which he had been christened, supposing that

ceremony had ever been performed. And Morgan seemed to be rather proud

of the title, than otherwise.

In some way he had been badly burned by an explosion of powder, and

though no other scars were perceptible, this bluish tinge caused by

the burned powder penetrating the skin, remained clear and distinct.

The dye did not fade as he grew older, but seemed to deepen and show

brighter.

His features were regular and clear cut; his face was kept smooth

shorn, though the black, Indian-like hair hung far down his shoulders.

There were not a few who secretly asserted that he came by this last

trait fairly, and wondered only that he had not the curved nose and

high cheek-bones as well.

His black eyes were of a fair size, but dull and sleepy looking, save

when he was angered; then one was strangely reminded of an infuriated

serpent, so wickedly did they flash and scintillate. In form he was

tall, broad-shouldered and well built, being somewhat noted for his

skill in the use of weapons, fleetness of foot and prowess as a

wood-ranger.

"Good-evening, Dick," coldly uttered the settler in reply, evidently

not caring to encourage the man, as he still stood in the narrow

doorway, without a hint for the other to enter.

"Heard the news?" added Dusky Dick, as a slight frown crossed his face,

and a smoldering glow lit up his dark eyes.

"No--I don't know as I have. What is it?" listlessly responded Wilson

as he deliberately crushed up some "natural leaf," and crammed it into

the wide-mouthed pipe-bowl. "Bring me a coal, Annie."

"'Bout the red-skins. They've got thar backs up at last and thar's

goin' to be the tallest kind of a muss, afore the thing's over," and

there seemed to be a faint tinge of exultation in the tones of the

speaker, that did not escape the keen witted borderer.

"How is it that _you_ know so much of their feelings, Dusky Dick? A

body might almost think you were one of them, by the way you talk."

Morgan gave vent to a low laugh; deep, smooth and mellow, but yet

filled with a peculiar meaning. Then he replied:

"I travel fur and keep my ears open, neighbor, as a man must needs to

in these troubled times, and in a new country. I have kivered nigh

onto fifty miles to-day, since sun-up. I stopped here to tell you the

news. If you think it's wuth offerin' a feller a cheer, and a bite of

somethin' to eat, I'll tell you it all. If not, then we'll call it

quits and I'll go furder."

"Come in--I did not think," added Wilson, a little abashed, for border

hospitality is proverbial. "Annie, give him what we have. Fall to,

friend, and welcome."

With a nod toward Mrs. Wilson who was seated at the further end of the

rude apartment, quietly knitting, Dusky Dick took a seat at the table

and helped himself liberally to the plain though palatable viands that

Annie hastened to replace upon the table. The girl then ignited a rude

lamp, and retreated to the side of her mother.

We do not intend describing the building; most of our readers have

seen these cabins, either in reality or through the medium of print.

It was a regular frontier cabin, made of logs roughly hewn, "chinked"

with billets of wood, daubed over with stiffened clay. The walls were

unpapered, and the furniture of the rudest description, the majority

being "home made;" the ax and auger being the principal tools used.

But one of the inmates at least deserves more than a passing notice as

she will figure quite prominently before the reader in this tale of

border life and trials. That one is Annie Wilson.

Barely five feet in hight, she was a model of feminine grace

and beauty, tempered and strengthened by the life of freedom and

health-giving exercise of the past two years. Her form had filled and

rounded to superb symmetry, her cheek glowed with the hue of health and

spirits; at eighteen, she was a woman, in the truest sense of the word.

Her hair was of a rich golden brown, her eyes, large and lustrous,

were deeply blue; her nose, of a faintly Roman type, gave a decisive

expression to her countenance, that was softened by the small,

ruby-lipped mouth, from which gleamed twin rows of pearly teeth

whenever she smiled, and caused a cunning dimple to play upon the

softly-rounded chin.

Dusky Dick ate voraciously, but yet found time to cast more than one

admiring glance toward the border beauty, which were by no means

welcome, judging from the scornful turn of the bright red lips, and the

flashing of her blue eyes as the maiden bent over some rough mending.

Then Morgan arose and approached the settler, who was still smoking.

"You don't ask me the news," he uttered, in a disagreeable tone as he

squatted down upon the doorstep.

"I knew you'd tell it without," was the quiet reply.

"Yes, that's what I stopped fer. The Sioux are goin' to raise

partic'lar Cain 'fore long."

"Are you sure?"

"I hed it from thar own lips," was the confident reply.

"You seem to be very thick with them, Dick. Some might think it strange

they should tell you this, unless you were in with them thicker than an

honest man should be," and the settler gazed keenly at his visitor.

"They'd best not say so in _my_ hearin'," muttered Morgan with an

ominous scowl. "But I've al'ays acted on the square with 'em, and so

they give me the hint. It's been brewin' for a long time, and they've

made up thar minds not to stand any more of this everlastin' cheatin'.

But never mind that jest now. I had other motives in stoppin' here,"

and Dusky Dick cast a sidelong glance at the sturdy settler; a glance

that had in it not a little uneasiness.

"If there is any thing else that I should know, Dick Morgan, now's the

time to say it."

"What d' you intend doin', anyhow?"

"About what?"

"Why--the Injuns, o' course."

"They will not trouble me--anyhow, I shall stay here until I am more

sure of what they intend doing. I won't leave my property without good

cause."

"You'll git rubbed out, then, shore. You remember Sloan Young? You

turned him out o' doors once, because he was drunk--"

"Because he insulted the women, the dirty half-breed," angrily

interjected Wilson.

"Well, I don't know. Anyhow, he's a big man 'mong some o' the Injuns,

and he swears he will use this chance to rub you out. Now I don't like

Young, and I'll save you, if you say so. _Petit Corbeau_ is a strong

friend o' mine, and will back me ag'inst Young. What do _you_ say?"

"Speak plain. You are holding something back, Dusky Dick. Why should

you do all this for me? We have not been such close and intimate

friends as all that comes to. What is it you mean?"

The other appeared somewhat discomposed at this straightforward speech,

and his treacherous eyes shifted uneasily and fell from before the

steady gaze of the old settler. But then he responded, with a forced

laugh:

"You're in a awful hurry, Wilson, but so be it. I'll come to the p'int

at once, and then we may see the way clear before us. Then it 'mounts

to jest this. I'll agree to save your stock, house, crap and your

lives. I'll engage that you sha'n't be bothered a mite, no matter how

badly other families are sarved. It'll be a great trial and trouble, of

course, and I won't do it 'thout pay--_big_ pay, I expect you'll call

it; but then remember what I save you."

"Come to the point, man; don't skirmish so," impatiently interrupted

the borderer, eying Dusky Dick steadily.

"Well, I'll do this, as I said, if you'll--if you'll promise me that

Miss Annie yander, shall marry me, jest's soon's this trouble is fa'rly

over. There, now!" and the fellow uttered a sigh of relief.

"Father!" exclaimed Annie, rising from her chair.

"Wait, daughter," and Wilson waved his hand for her to keep silence.

"Dick Morgan, are you in earnest about this matter?"

"In 'arnest? Why, of course I am. I'll do all I--"

"Hold on--don't take too much for granted, my man, or you may be

disappointed. I thought you knew me better than to come here with any

such proposition as this. But since you did not, let me tell you that I

think you are a precious fool and dirty scoundrel, and that the sooner

you take yourself away from here, the better it will be for both of

us," and the stalwart settler arose erect, his eyes flashing and his

fists close clenched.

"Stand back, Ed. Wilson--keep your distance or it'll be the worse for

_you_!" muttered Dusky Dick, as he involuntarily retreated a pace, at

the same time throwing his rifle-muzzle forward.

"Don't threaten--you cowardly cur, or I'll forget myself and give you

something to growl at. There is your road. Take it and begone, and

don't let me ever see your ugly face 'round here again. Go!"

"Hold on a bit, Wilson," and a vicious glitter filled the desperado's

eyes as his fingers nervously manipulated the rifle-lock. "Better think

twice afore you throw away your chance. I tell you ag'in, that if you

don't agree to my plans, you won't live to be a day older. You'll

all be killed and skelped. You can't run away, fer you're watched by

those who would be only too glad of a chance to plug ye! Do as I said;

promise me _her_, and I'll save you all. If you don't, then--"

"Hold!" rung out a clear, firm voice, as a light, agile figure sprung

before the sturdy settler. "Hold! Uncock that gun, or I'll send a

bullet through your black heart! Uncock it, I say--and now leave!"

It was Annie who had thus interrupted the conversation, and probably

prevented a tragedy, for the treacherous villain had cocked his rifle,

unobserved by Wilson, intending to shoot down one whom he feared to

face openly. But the watchful eye of the daughter had noted his action,

and, grasping the ready rifle, had checked his purpose, as detailed.

Edward Wilson realized the peril he had so narrowly escaped, and, as

the baffled villain shrunk back from before the threatening muzzle

pointed by the dauntless girl, he uttered a cry of rage, and with one

enormous bound, covered the intervening distance and stood beside Dusky

Dick. Then one brawny hand clutched the scoundrel's throat, while the

other arm was drawn back to deliver a crushing blow.

Morgan dropped his rifle to remove the grip upon his throat, the weapon

exploding as it fell. But before he could raise a hand, the hard, heavy

fist of the settler shot out and alighted full between his eyes, with a

crushing _thud_, hurling the man twice his length away.

With an angry howl, Morgan sprung up and whipped out his knife--a long,

venomous-looking blade--and crouched down like a panther ready to

spring. Then again did the voice of Annie ring out:

"Mind yourself, Dusky Dick! I have you covered, and I know how to use a

rifle. One step forward and down you go!"

"You see we have the best of you this time," quietly added Wilson,

but with a menacing ring in his low voice. "Take your gun and begone.

'Twould only serve you right if I shot you down like a dog--as you

meant to serve me; but I let you go this time. But the next--_look

out_!"

Dusky Dick did not reply until he had secured his rifle. Then

retreating a pace he spoke:

"And _you_ look out. You've struck me. Good! A man never does that a

_second_ time. I'll be even with you yet--and with _her_, too. You hold

the cards now--my time 'll come soon. Jest put that in your pipe and

smoke it. May be you'll remember it afore long," and with a hard laugh

the baffled desperado turned away from the spot.

The settler stood gazing after him irresolutely for a moment, but then

turned toward the cabin door. Annie's voice checked him:

"Who is that coming, father?"

A tall agile figure was rapidly approaching the cabin from the not

very distant woods, bearing a rifle, as could be seen by the clear

moonlight. But whether an Indian or a white, could not be told, as the

dress partook about equally of both races.

"Hellow, _you_!" cried a high-pitched, peculiar voice, that plainly

bespoke the white man. "Ain't shootin' at the moon, be ye? Got plenty

o' powder, I reckon?"

"Tobe Castor, by all that's good!" exclaimed Wilson, springing forward

to meet the new-comer, in evident delight. "You are just the man of all

others that I wanted to see."

"Sho! don't say so? Want to know? Ain't jokin', be ye?" and then the

two men warmly clasped hands, like friends of a life-long standing.

"Come, Tobe; supper's over, but I guess there is something left. What

brought you up this way so early in the season?"

"Don't ax me now--wait ontil _they_ ain't lis'enin'," muttered the man,

cautiously; then adding aloud: "How d'y, Miss Annie? Purtier'n ever, by

gum! Beats all natur' how you do keep on a gittin' so. Sorter selfish,

ain't ye, now? Got your own an' a dozent more besides--o' good looks, I

mean. Wings 'most beginned to grow, hain't they?" and with a fatherly

freedom, the weather-beaten old borderer stooped and imprinted a kindly

kiss upon the fair face upturned toward his.

"Your tongue has lost none of its cunning, I see, anyhow Uncle Tobe,"

laughed the maiden, not unpleased.

"It's a lookin' glass, so fur's _you're_ consarned, gal. But ef you

will, I'm dretful hungry--hain't hed a bite fur 'most two weeks, 'cept

at odd spells. Ef you've got any thin' in the grub line thet is in

danger o' bein' sp'iled, jest please trot it out, while I talk with Ed,

hyar."

In obedience to a nod from Castor, Wilson led the way to a little

distance and then briefly detailed the purport of Dusky Dick's visit.

Then he anxiously awaited the comments of his visitor.

"The dirty whelp! You'd orter 'a' shot him like a polecat! _He_

merry--oh! _git_ out! Makes me _mad_--durned ef it don't, now! Jest

to think. Oh _won't_ I--thet's all; ef ever I git mud-hooks on the

pesky critter? But wait a bit. He told you the truth, Ed; yas, he did,

so fur's the reds risin' is consarned. They're goin' to do it--ef

i'deed they hain't begun a'ready. They're jest goin' to chaw up the

hull kentry afore they stop. Thar's goin' to be jest a _lettle_ the

liveliest time you _ever_ see'd, 'fore its eended."

"Do you think so?"

"I _know_ so--fer shure. An' you're in a bad place hyar--a pesky mean

place, Ed," impressively added Castor.

"What do you advise?"

"Jest this. Take your fambly an' pack up. Git out o' hyar like 'twas

ha'nted. Pull up stakes an' travel."

"And leave the farm--lose my two years of hard work?"

"Better thet, then lose your skelps an' it with the rest. An' thet's

jest what you'll do ef you stay. I tell you, Ed, it's a ser'ous

bizness, this is. Dusky Dick told you the truth o' the plans o' the

imps. An' then you've sot _him_ ag'inst you, too. He's got Injun blood

in him. A pity it happined jest now, though I don't blame you, not a

bit, but you'd orter never 'a' let him git away. He'll bring the imps

down on ye, _shore_. He's a big dog 'th a brass collar 'mongst _some_

o' them--the wust o' the lot, ef thet kin be, whar all is so bad.

_He's_ the one you must look out fer, the most."

"You think he's in league with them?"

"I _know_ it, fer shore. But whar's Fred?"

"Over at Stevens'."

"Mought 'a' knowed _thet_ 'thout axin'; but I don't blame the feller

a mite. Jinnie's a mighty purty gal, an' ef I wasn't so old an' ugly,

an' she wasn't so smart, an' all else went 'cordin', an' she didn't say

_no_, durned ef I didn't hitch onto her _myself_. But never mind thet

now. What're you goin' to do?"

"What do you advise, Tobe?"

"Jest this. Take sech things as you cain't do 'thout an' don't want to

leave, an' strike out fer the bigger settlements. I tell you, ef you

stay hyar, to-morrow this time won't see ary one o' your skelps on the

place whar natur' 'lowed fer 'em to grow," earnestly added Castor.

"Father," called out the clear, sweet voice of Annie, at this juncture,

"all's ready."

"Come, Tobe; eat a bite and I will settle my plans. I'll let you know

then," added Wilson, turning toward the cabin.