It was several weeks after the events narrated in the last chapter, and
there was quite an excitement at a place which, though not yet born,
was named Boomtown. There was to be a portion of the Reservation to
be given over to settlers, and many women were among the men who were
ready to cross the line at the signal and take up their section of
ground, and thus establish a home.
Morris had gained his strength, and Bennie had gotten over the
mortification of having been chased up a tree by what he considered
some vicious animal on the momentous night of the attack on Morris,
only to find in the morning that it had been but a cow that had
strayed from the herd and wanted human companionship. Bennie had been
unmercifully guyed by the rough men, but he took it all in such good
part that they ceased tormenting him and liked him better than he knew.
Helen and Loney were almost inseparable, and under her good care and
the good fare and bracing mountain air he was fast rounding into a fine
boy--healthy and rosy.
Shoshone, as well as all the men and women within range, was as fond
of Helen as ever. Her errands of mercy and kindness, done always
without money and without price, endeared her to all alike, even the
Indians looking upon her as something saintly and one whom they should
respect as one sent from the Great Spirit.
Dora had disappeared entirely, and no one could find the slightest
trace of her. The patient Indians had been impressed into the search,
but no tidings came from her, and no trace of John, Muriel or Dopey
could be found. Morris despaired, and had grown old and almost gray.
Bennie had lost much of his bright gayety, and it seemed as though the
shadow would never be lifted.
Morris had discovered that Helen was the sister of the dead man, and
as such he gave her her share of the claim which they were now sure
was of great value, but often a rich claim is known well to be, so
it lies idle and unproductive for want of the money to pay to work
it. This claim, which promised so well, would need deep tunnelling, a
quartz-mill and all the other things necessary to properly work it.
Morris and Helen might stay there forever and dig out a few dollars
worth of gold a day, but, with millions almost in sight, it would be
asking too much of them to expect them to do this, when Helen knew
if Morris did not, that there were plenty men with the means and the
knowledge ready to join them once they were convinced that the mine was
all they claimed.
So, to try and find one of these rare birds, the capitalist, Helen
and Morris with Loney, and Bennie, came down to Hellandgone, and were
persuaded by Shoshone and the others of the “old crowd,” as they called
themselves, to come over to the rush into the Reservation. Helen was to
cross the line with Loney, and lay claim to one parcel for the child
and one for herself.
Bennie was looking all about for Morris, who had disappeared strangely
and suddenly, but without success.
There was a great crowd gathered at the edge of the railroad,
waiting for the signal to cross it, for the roadbed was the line of
demarkation, and on the farther side was the land for distribution. Red
Eagle was there, looking on the crowd and at the land with a somber
face. This land had belonged to his forbears from beyond recollection,
and, little by little, it had been taken away from them, until now
this last and best strip was to be given over to the white man.
When all had gathered, that seemed likely to come, Shoshone mounted
a large dry-goods box that seemed to be there providentially for the
purpose and shouted:
“Listen! ladies and gentlemen. I am Pete Browning, known to you best as
Shoshone Pete. I have been appointed Marshal of Boomtown. I am here to
preserve order. Any decent man and I will get along all hunky, but all
thugs, crooks and bad men take warning, for I’ll shoot on sight! Now
you know me, who I am and what I’m here for.”
All the “boys” from Hellandgone and the adjacent country gave in chorus
their yell of “Ee--you!” until the very ground trembled.
“He’s a wanderer from Dead Man’s Gulch, but he’s not alone, for we’re
his little brothers!” shouted Dan. Then again resounded the “Zip! Zip!
yee, you!” in which Red Eagle joined with unction, for he smelled
whiskey as the ending of this festival. Then Red Eagle was cheered, at
which he bowed with preternatural dignity.
At this juncture Snakes Duffy came up with a keg of whiskey on his
shoulder, at which everybody cheered, but Helen went to him and,
smiling pleasantly, asked him something, to which he nodded assent and
deliberately turned the keg on end and sat down on it. He disposed
himself so as to listen to what Shoshone had to say, and this gentleman
spoke:
“To those who don’t know, let me state that at 12 o’clock precisely, a
few seconds from now, as Deputy United States Marshal, I shall fire my
pistol, and that will be the signal for the crossing of the line, which
is the railroad track. Over there is the Reservation, and no man must
cross it until he hears the signal. The one who does it, does so at the
risk of his life!”
Shoshone stood still as a statue, looking at his watch and holding his
great pistol with its shining barrel.
“Don’t be in a hurry, boys; don’t be in a hurry to try your wings. He’s
from the heart of the Gulch and shoots with both hands--never misses,
either.”
This advice probably had some effect, for everyone kept in his place,
when Mike shouted, and in a voice loud enough to be heard all over the
county:
“Say, boys, we all owe it to the Angel that she should be given one
minute’s start over everyone here. All in favor of it say ‘aye.’”
Such a chorus of “ayes” rose that it showed Helen that her gentle
ministrations and self-sacrifice had been appreciated in her own
generation.
“Go, Angel, and take the boy, Loney, along. He ought to have a start in
life.”
“Thank you, friends,” said Helen, “I will do this, not so much for
myself----”
“Oh, go on and pick out a pretty place, and the boys will build you a
shack.”
Smiling happily, Helen went across the track and back some yards and
sat down. With a shout then Shoshone fired his pistol, and there was a
wild rush of all present, but it was a good-natured one, thanks to the
absence of the cause of most of the disputes of the far West--whiskey.
Then a strange phenomenon took place. As the pistol was fired, Shoshone
sprang from the box and rushed forward with the rest, intent on finding
Helen and protecting her from the rushing feet, and this box rose in
the air of itself and two legs showed beneath it, until it reached the
goal it had set, and then the box with the legs under it sat down on
the ground, and those near could read the legend:
MORRIS GOLDBERG, SHOEMAKER, & REAL ESTATE.
All present sent up such a shout of laughter that it set the crowd in
such good humor that the town was born without a single fight.
As Shoshone reached the side of the dry-goods box he was nearly dead
from laughter, but managed to say:
“Well, you have beat us all, Mr. Goldberg. We have but our lots, while
you have your house all done, and are ready for business.”
“Yah, dere pe no flies on me, Mr. Shoshone. Vere is der Angel, mein
partner in der claim? Meppe ve make some moneys in real estate, und
I can vork at mein trate until ve fix it all. Yust to t’ink, she vos
de sister of dot ‘Cactus Bill.’ I dell you dot she is a real angel.
Didn’t she dake care of me after dot scoundrel knocked me out? Und she
is like a mutter to dot Loney. Und she is so goot. Ach, Gott! if I haf
millions, dey should all be hers.”
Somehow this frank admiration was not so pleasant to Shoshone as it
might have been. He felt a sort of tugging at his heart that he had
never felt before. Was it jealousy? He did not know exactly, but it was
a very uncomfortable feeling. Then he asked how it was that Morris,
with a claim, and thus a home of his own, should have come down here to
try to grasp a homestead.
“Ah, mein friendt, it vos because one of dem cigar-store signs came
und said dot he haf heard dot dose mens vot haf stole mein chilt vos
coming here, und I comet too. Und so long as ve vos here, it don’t cost
nodings to take de claim, and so, meppe, I vork und make enough to vork
de claim. Say, Shoshone, vy you don’t get merrit mit de Angel, and live
here, too?”
This innocent question so took Shoshone by surprise that for a moment
he could not speak. Then he said, sadly:
“I would, but she won’t have me. I don’t blame her for not liking one
so rough.”
“Ut-tut, I haf see in her eyes, ven she look at you, dot she likes you,
und----”
Here Shoshone seized the old man’s hand and fairly wrung it in his joy.
The shoemaker said, simply:
“Vell, I call de Bennie to bring me mein tools und I pegin piziness, if
dere is any; und if not, den ve set de tent. Und Helen vill haf de tent
till she can get a house. Vill you come?”
Would he go to where Helen was? He certainly would, and did.
John and Dopey had been in that crowd. John’s resources always depended
on the men that he could fleece at gambling, or some other game of
confidence. They had resumed their full beards and dressed in a
different manner, so they felt sure they would not be recognized if
anyone of the crowd at Hellandgone should be at the birth of the new
town. John had caught sight of Morris, and said to Dopey:
“Either that Jew is the smartest detective in the United States or
the biggest fool for luck. It doesn’t matter much which, but it seems
impossible to get rid of him.”
“Have you tried de right way yet, boss? You allus lets him get away. It
wouldn’t be noticed if he was to get a stray bullet in his gizzard now.
There is allus a shooting-match in this kind of a ruction.”
“You are right. This is the place and time to rid ourselves of him.
Here we put our necks in danger, sneaking in the back way, so to speak,
and run up against the old man, and the daughter still on our hands. We
have got to play this game fine or we’ll lose. And here she has come to
her senses again. That is one of the unaccountable things no one can
explain. Some persons go suddenly insane and as suddenly regain their
reason. It doubles our danger. And Muriel has turned such a tiger-cat
about her. Oh, hide! hide quick! For if God is to judge me, here comes
my wife, and the boy with her. How shall we get him away, for no one
knows when or what he may tell?”
The two scoundrels escaped in the crowd, and pretended to be hunting
for someone. The last thing they would now think of was to try to
settle in the place made so dangerous for them.
Helen and the child came along to the box where Morris had fixed his
abode and sat down upon it, she having registered the two claims. She
said:
“We must try and get back to the Gulch before there is any kind of
trouble, for often when there is a crowd like this they get to drinking
and fighting. Snakes was so good, and would not sell any, but there may
be others who will. Some of the men are desperate characters.”
“Let’s hurry then, for I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,
because I love you so much.”
“Do you love me, Loney? That sounds so sweet, and I am so glad that I
could win your affection. And I am glad if I could to-day do anything
to insure your future. If my own little boy had lived, he would have
been about your own age. And he must have looked as you do had he
lived.”
“Well, I wish that I had been your little boy. You don’t know how it
feels to know you are nobody’s boy.”
All the boomers were occupied each with his own plans, and they seemed
to consist in getting their claims registered, and after that getting
their tents set up. In a surprisingly short time the place looked like
a miniature village done in white. No one seemed to notice that two
men had approached Helen and the child, who were still sitting on the
box which Morris owned. As she saw these rough-looking men, each with
a full dark beard, Helen started, for there was something sinister in
their manner. She turned to them, saying:
“Who are you, and what do you want?”
“Never mind who I am. I know my business, and it is that I want that
boy.”
“What right have you to ask such a thing? What is this child to you?”
As Helen said this firmly, John stood so that he was hidden from sight,
while he removed his false beard, saying:
“Look at me closely and, maybe, you will know.”
“My God! it is John Pierson!”
“Yes; John Pierson, and that boy’s father.”
“Then I am his mother. Touch him if you dare!”
“Don’t let him take me! Don’t let him! It was that man that killed the
man in New York and tried to kill me!” screamed Loney, clinging to
Helen wildly.
“Don’t fear, my child! for he shall not harm one hair of your head!”
“And what will you do? What can you do to prevent it?”
“Do? Stand here and fight for him until you’ve hacked me to pieces with
that murderous knife! And I bid you beware, for I am his mother!”
“Onto her, Dopey! We’ll settle this right now!”
Dopey started toward Helen with his slung-shot raised for a crushing
blow, when he stopped suddenly with his arm raised, as he saw behind
John the long figure of Morris, who stood there, with his pistol
raised, ready to fire.
Morris had not lived long as he had in the West without learning how to
shoot and to employ some of the picturesque language in use there.
“Looket out, mein frients! Diss is de Yiddish doctor, und he might fill
you full of a kint of pills you vouldn’t like so vell.”
“Get away, Dopey; here comes someone else we don’t want to meet.” And
they started away so suddenly that Morris had no chance to shoot, had
he dared fire in that crowded place.
“Und I dare not shoot, although dose are de mens vot haf mein Dora.”
“They are the ones that killed the man in your shop, for I saw the big
one take off his whiskers--and it was the same one!”
“Und mein chilt, maype, is among dis crowd. May de goot Gott show me de
vay to fint her!”
While this was transpiring, Helen was kneeling at Loney’s side, weeping
with joy and kissing the child at the same time. “May He help you to
find your child as He has helped me find mine! Loney is my own little
boy, whom Heaven has sent back to his mother’s heart. Thank God! that
he did not die!”
“I knew that you would come back some day, for I always prayed you
would. I knew I would find my mother. I don’t like my father, for he is
bad and wicked. He tried to kill me, and carried Dora away!”
“Is that so, Mr. Goldberg? It is then but an added crime.”
“Yes, Helen, und I haf prayet dot I vould fint mein child. I vill go
out und look in efery blace till I see if she is here. Go you to de
tent und stay dere till I come again. You are not safe here.”
Bennie came back sad and crestfallen. What to him were all the lots in
the world without Dora, and even his optimistic soul was down in the
depths of despair. But all he said was:
“I will go with you to look for her. I think I saw the two men that we
seek among the boomers, but am not sure; but, in any case, it is better
than sitting still.”
“Yes, Bennie, ve must fint her or I shall lose my reason.”
So Helen and the child started back to the tent and went inside, and
there they were measurably safe, as they were surrounded by boomers who
were busy setting their tents in order.
“Oh, mother,” said Loney, “how glad I am that we have found each other!
Now, when it comes night, I can say my prayers at your knees instead of
all alone.”
“Yes, and you must always pray for the good man who took you into his
home when you were an outcast, through your own father’s wickedness. It
was he who showed me that it was never too late to mend. And I do not
intend to ever try to teach you to revere the memory of such a father
as yours is. He is unworthy of such a child, even unworthy of me.”
“Mother, they call you the Angel here. Why? Oh, I know; it is because
you are so kind to everyone. Teach me, so that I may be like you.”
Scarcely had Helen and Loney gone from the box when Muriel and Dora
came to the very spot. Muriel was pale and worn out, and her once
handsome garments were almost in rags from the long marches and the
exposure to which she had been subjected. Dora was dressed in a pretty
and complete Indian maiden’s costume which Muriel had bought from Red
Eagle, whose love for firewater had caused him to barter away what
his squaw had kept sacred ever since her daughter had died in her
youth. So, unless he happened to see her face, John would scarcely
have recognized Dora. She had a shawl drawn up over her head, so as to
conceal her identity still better. Muriel said, hurriedly:
“Go, go! and get lost in the crowd! I cannot protect you longer!”
She did not tell Dora that she knew herself to be dying from pneumonia,
for she knew the child then would not leave her, so she held Dora close
to her heart for a moment, and then sent her away.
“I thank you with all my heart for all your goodness to me, and I will
pray that Heaven may repay you for all you have endured for me!”
“Go, go! I fancy I see them following us in the crowd back there. And
it will cost our lives if they find us again! Go, Dora!”
“Good-bye, dear Muriel. God bless and keep you safe!” And Dora mingled
with the crowd, none of whom took more than casual notice of the squaw,
for squaws were common about there.
Shoshone came by the box, hoping to find the shoemaker. Helen was with
him, but the boy was not. “And,” he said, continuing a conversation
they had had:
“Don’t worry about the boy, Helen. He is safer with the boys than with
you.”
They did not notice Muriel, who looked at Helen for a moment with tears
in her eyes and then slipped away unseen by Helen, whose sorrows she
had caused in a great measure.
“Are you sure he would be safe with them? Think what it would mean to
me to lose him again!”
“Don’t worry. Anyone of the boys would die for you any day, and as he
is your boy they would naturally transfer their allegiance to him. And
you say it is his father who, to rob you of him, killed your brother,
‘Cactus Bill,’ and stole this poor Dora? Say, he must be aching for
the noose. And, besides, it was he who tried to kill Goldberg!”
“Yes; he is John Pierson. I saw him but just now, and he tried to
take my child again. Oh, I wonder such men are permitted to live! He
outraged every human emotion, abandoned me with another woman, and to
think that he should have killed my poor brother! He was an honest man.”
“You bet he was. We all knew him, and he was white, he was.”
Shoshone stopped in his oration, saying: “Go back to the tent, girl.
Some of the boys are going to get busy.”
“What do you mean, Shoshone?”
“Nothin’, Helen, nothin’. I didn’t mean for you to go alone. I’ll go
along.”
“Thank you, Shoshone, I am growing to be a coward.”
They could not have gone more than fifty yards from the box when Muriel
came back that way, looking behind her in terror, as she saw her two
enemies following her, so that she could not escape. John approached
her, saying:
“What have you done with her? Where is she, you traitor?”
“I have set her free, you devil! and I’m ready to die for having done
it!” said Muriel, no longer seeking to escape, and folding her hands.
“Then die!”
Saying this, John fired point-blank at Muriel’s heart, and she fell to
the ground with a cry, while John said to Dopey: “Come this way! this
way, quick!”
At the sound of this shot, followed by a woman’s cry, there was a rush
of people, and among them Helen, for, in her excited mind, she feared
for her child. As she approached, the men made way for her, and she
knelt by the side of the dying woman, saying:
“A woman, poor thing!”
Then she started, saying, “You, you!”
“Yes, I; and is it possible that I am to die in your arms--you whom I
wronged so deeply?”
“Yes, Muriel, if you die, it shall be in my arms and with my pardon.”
“You pardon me after all I’ve done to you?”
“Yes; freely and fully, but don’t think of that. Can you pray?”
“Not until I tell you who killed me! It was John Pierson. The man I
took away from you has been your avenger.”
“I want no revenge, Muriel. Vengeance is not for us!”
The unfortunate woman gasped a few times, and while Helen was praying
for the passing soul the light went out of Muriel’s eyes and she was
dead!
“Hats off, boys; she is going over the range,” Shoshone had said while
Muriel was gasping her last breaths. Helen covered the face, letting
fall pearly tears as she did so.
While the moment was still tense there was a scream from a woman, and
Dora rushed to the spot where the crowd had gathered, crying:
“Save me! save me!” And she ran to Helen as the only woman there.
John and Dopey threw prudence to the winds by pursuing her, and John
drew his pistol, saying:
“We have a fine round-up just now, everybody together!” And he tried to
seize Dora, while her father, with his eyes of fire and his hair flying
in the wind, came rushing up.
“I heard Dora! I heard her!” Then he leveled his pistol at John,
saying: “Move a muscle, and I’ll kill you deat!”
“Kill him, Dopey! I’m all right.”
“Never mind him, pardner,” said Shoshone to Morris. Then to John: “Your
game is up, and I have won, as the Deputy Marshal. Boys,” he added,
with a dread significance. They closed around the murderer and Dopey,
who showed more fight than John had, but then he did not know quite so
well the meaning of the deep silence that had fallen upon them all.
“Dora! Dora!” called the distracted father, when there ran into his
arms what he had supposed was an Indian girl.
“Papa, papa! and Bennie, too. Oh, how glad I am! I don’t know how it
all happened, but we are together now.”
Shoshone made a motion to Goldberg to take them away, and, leading Dora
by one hand and Bennie by the other, they started to the tent.
Helen sank down to the box, incapable of movement. She knew what the
sudden silence meant and saw Dan take his lariat. She covered her face
with her hands and sat there for what she thought a year. Then she felt
her hand taken, and looked up to see Shoshone standing there and in his
grave face she read the truth. Swift justice had been meted out to the
murderers for their crimes!
Helen was free; no, not quite free, for she was now held close in
Shoshone’s arms.
THE END.
* * * * *
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same, and some good advice as to the selection of your partner for life.
_=COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE=_, which tells how to win the favor of
the ladies, how to begin and end a courtship, and how to “Pop
the Question,” and also gives full information in regard to the
invitations, gifts, ushers, bridesmaids, conduct of the wedding
ceremony, etc., etc.
_=THE LOVERS’ COMPANION=_, which gives the flirtations of the
handkerchief, parasol, glove, fan and napkin: also, the language of
flowers; how to kiss deliciously; and a cure for bashfulness.
_=THE POPULAR LETTER WRITER=_, which tells how to write business,
social, and love letters, giving numerous examples of all.
This valuable work containing the _four books above mentioned_, is
issued in one volume under the title =HOW TO WOO=, and it will be sent
to any address, postpaid, upon receipt of 25 cents in postage stamps or
money. Address
=J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.=
* * * * *
POPULAR NOVELS WRITTEN FROM PLAYS.
SEASON OF 1907-1908.
We desire to call your attention to the following list of novels
written from the Popular Plays, which are being presented in various
parts of the country. They contain about 200 pages each, with
illustrations from the Play, and are bound in handsome paper cover
printed in five colors.
PRICE, 25 CENTS EACH.
DION O’DARE By Charles E. Blaney
THE BOY DETECTIVE By Charles E. Blaney
BILLY THE KID By Arda LaCroix
JOSIE, THE LITTLE MADCAP By Charles E. Blaney
FIGHTING BILL, SHERIFF OF SILVER CREEK By O. Harper
BROADWAY AFTER DARK By Grace Miller White
CONVICT 999 By Grace Miller White
EDNA, THE PRETTY TYPEWRITER By Grace M. White
SINCE NELLIE WENT AWAY By Grace Miller White
A CHORUS GIRL’S LUCK IN NEW YORK By White
THE KING AND QUEEN OF GAMBLERS By White
THE GREAT EXPRESS ROBBERY By Grace M. White
A RACE ACROSS THE CONTINENT By Grace M. White
LOTTIE, THE POOR SALESLADY By Charles E. Blaney
HIS TERRIBLE SECRET By Charles E. Blaney
THE HIRED GIRL’S MILLIONS By Charles E. Blaney
FROM SING SING TO LIBERTY By Harry Clay Blaney
THE DANCER AND THE KING By Charles E. Blaney
A MARKED WOMAN By Grace Miller White
THE QUEEN OF THE COWBOYS By Grace Miller White
PARTED ON HER BRIDAL TOUR By Laura Jean Libbey
JOE WELCH THE SHOEMAKER By Olive Harper
KIDNAPPED FOR REVENGE By Blaney and Vedder
NELLIE, THE BEAUTIFUL CLOAK MODEL By White
FROM TRAMP TO MILLIONAIRE By Grace Miller White
SECRETS OF THE POLICE By Grace Miller White
RULED OFF THE TURF By Grace Miller White
THE BURGLAR AND THE LADY By Olive Harper
A MILLIONAIRE’S REVENGE By Olive Harper
THE GIRL RAFFLES By Charles E. Blaney
BERTHA, THE SEWING MACHINE GIRL By O. Harper
A CHILD OF THE REGIMENT By Charles E. Blaney
THE GAMBLER OF THE WEST By Olive Harper
The above books are for sale by Newsdealers and Booksellers everywhere,
or they will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address for 25 cents
each, or any five books for $1.00. Address all orders to
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING CO., 57 Rose Street, New York.
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are
mentioned, except for the frontispiece.
Punctuation has been made consistent.
Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in
the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have
been corrected.