SAD ANITA--THE MINE LOCATER--TROUBLE
Straight toward the door of the saloon he marched, the muzzles of the
grim sixes clearing a path to him; for Ned Harris had become
notorious in Deadwood for his coolness, courage and audacity. It had
been said of him that he would "just es lief shute a man as ter look
at 'im," and perhaps the speaker was not far from right.
Anyway, he led off through the savage-faced audience with a composure
that was remarkable, and, strange to say, not a hand was raised to
stop him until he came face to face with Catamount Cass and his gang;
here was where the youth had expected molestation and hindrance, if
anywhere.
Catamount Cass was a rough, illiterate "tough" of the mountain
species, and possessed more brute courage than the general run of his
type of men, and a bull-dog determination that made him all the more
dangerous as an enemy.
Harry Redburn kept close at Ned Harris' heels, a cocked "six" in
either hand ready for any emergency.
It took but a few moments before the two parties met, the "Cattymount"
throwing out his foot to block the path.
"Hello!" roared the "tough," folding his huge knotty arms across his
partially bared breast; "ho! ho! whoa up thar, pilgrims! Don' ye go
ter bein' so fast. Fo'kes harn't so much in a hurry now-'days as they
uster war. Ter be sure ther Lord manyfactered this futstool in seven
days; sum times I think he did, an' then, ag'in, my geological ijees
convince me he didn't."
"What has that to do with us?" demanded Ned, sternly. "I opine ye'd
better spread, some of you, if you don't want me to run a canyon
through your midst. Preach to some other pilgrim than me; I'm in a
hurry!"
"Haw! haw! Yas, I obsarve ye be; but if ye're my meat, an' I think
prob'ble ye be, I ain't a-goin' fer ter let yer off so nice and easy.
P'arps ye kin tell who fired the popgun, a minnit ago, w'at basted my
ole pard?"
"I shall not take trouble to tell!" replied Ned, fingering the trigger
of his left six uneasily. "Ef you want to know who salted Chet
Diamond, the worst blackleg, trickster and card-player in Dakota, all
you've got to do is to go and ask him!"
"Hold!" cried Harry Redburn, stepping out from behind Harris; "I'll
hide behind no man's shoulder. _I_ salted the gambler--if you call
shooting salting--and I'm not afraid to repeat the action by salting a
dozen more just of his particular style."
Ned Harris was surprised.
He had set Redburn down as a faint-hearted, dubious-couraged
counter-jumper from the East; he saw now that there was something of
him, after all.
"Come on, young man!" and the young miner stepped forward a pace; "are
you with me?"
"To the ears!" replied Harris, grimly.
The next instant the twain leaped forward and broke the barrier, and
mid the crack of pistol-shots and shouts of rage, they cleared the
saloon. Once outside, Ned Harris led the way.
"Come along!" he said, dodging along the shadowy side of the street;
"we'll have to scratch gravel, for them up-range 'toughs' will follow
us, I reckon. They're a game gang, and 'hain't the most desirable kind
of enemies one could wish for. I'll take you over to my coop, and you
can lay low there until this jamboree blows over. You'll have to
promise me one thing, however, ere I can admit you as a member of my
household."
"Certainly. What is it?" and Harry Redburn redoubled his efforts in
order to keep alongside his swift-footed guide.
"Promise me that you will divulge nothing, no matter what you may see
or hear. Also that, should you fall in love with one who is a member
of my family, you will forbear and not speak of love to her."
"It is a woman, then?"
"Yes--a young lady."
"I will promise;--how can I afford to do otherwise, under the existing
circumstances. But, tell me, why did you force me to shoot that
gambler?"
"He was a rascal, and cheated you."
"I know; but I did not want his life; I am averse to bloodshed."
"So I perceived, and that made me all the more determined you should
salivate him. You'll find before you're in the Hills long that it
won't do to take lip or lead from any one. A green pilgrim is the
first to get salted; I illustrated how to serve 'em!"
Redburn's eyes sparkled. He was just beginning to see into the
different phases of this wild exciting life.
"Good!" he exclaimed, warmly. "I have much to thank you for. Did I
kill that card-sharp?"
"No; you simply perforated him in the right side. This way."
They had been running straight up the main street. Now they turned a
corner and darted down one that was dark and deserted.
A moment later a trim boyish figure stepped before them, from out of
the shadow of a new frame building; a hand of creamy whiteness was
laid upon the arm of Ned Harris.
"This way, pilgrims," said a low musical voice, and at the same
instant a gust of wind lifted the jaunty sombrero from the speaker's
head, revealing a most wonderful wealth of long glossy hair; "the
'toughs' are after you, and you cannot find a better place to coop
than in here." The soft hand drew Ned Harris inside the building,
which was finished, but unoccupied, and Redburn followed, nothing loth
to get into a place of safety. So far, Deadwood had not impressed him
favorably as being the most peaceable city within the scope of a
continent.
Into an inner room of the building they went, and the door was closed
behind them. The apartment was small and smelled of green lumber. A
table and a few chairs comprised the furniture; a dark lantern burned
suspended from the ceiling by a wire. Redburn eyed the strange youth
as he and Harris were handed seats.
Of medium hight and symmetrically built; dressed in a carefully tanned
costume of buck-skin, the vest being fringed with the fur of the mink;
wearing a jaunty Spanish sombrero; boots on the dainty feet of patent
leather, with tops reaching to the knees; a face slightly sun-burned,
yet showing the traces of beauty that even excessive dissipation could
not obliterate; eyes black and piercing; mouth firm, resolute, and
devoid of sensual expression: hair of raven color and of remarkable
length;--such was the picture of the youth as beheld by Redburn and
Harris.
"You can remain here till you think it will be safe to again venture
forth, gentlemen," and a smile--evidently a stranger there--broke out
about the speaker's lips. "Good-evening!" "Good-evening!" nodded
Harris, with a quizzical stare. The next moment the youth was gone.
"Who was that chap?" asked Redburn, not a little bewildered.
"That?--why that's Calamity Jane!"
"Calamity Jane? _What_ a name."
"Yes, she's an odd one. Can ride like the wind, shoot like a
sharp-shooter, and swear like a trooper. Is here, there and
everywhere, seemingly all at one time. Owns this coop and two or three
other lots in Deadwood; a herding ranch at Laramie, an interest in a
paying placer claim near Elizabeth City, and the Lord only knows how
much more."
"But it is not a _woman_?"
"Reckon 'tain't nothin' else."
"God forbid that a child of mine should ever become so debased and--"
"Hold! there are yet a few redeeming qualities about her. She was
_ruined_--" and here a shade dark as a thunder-cloud passed over Ned
Harris' face--"and set adrift upon the world, homeless and friendless;
yet she has bravely fought her way through the storm, without asking
anybody's assistance. True, she may not now have a heart; that was
trampled upon, years ago, but her character has not suffered blemish
since the day a foul wretch stole away her honor!"
"What is her real name?"
"I do not know; few in Deadwood do. It is said, however, that she
comes of a Virginia City, Nevada, family of respectability and
intelligence."
At this juncture there was a great hubbub outside, and instinctively
the twain drew their revolvers, expecting that Catamount Cass and his
toughs had discovered their retreat, and were about to make an attack.
But soon the gang were beard to tramp away, making the night hideous
with their hoarse yells.
"They'll pay a visit to every shanty in Deadwood," said Harris, with a
grim smile, "and if they don't find us, which they won't, they'll
h'ist more than a barrel of bug-juice over their defeat. Come, let's
be going."
They left the building and once more emerged onto the darkened street,
Ned taking the lead.
"Follow me, now," he said, tightening his belt, "and we'll get home
before sunrise, after all."
He struck out up the gulch, or, rather, down it, for his course lay
southward. Redburn followed, and in fifteen minutes the lights of
Deadwood--magic city of the wilderness--were left behind. Harris led
the way along the rugged mountain stage-road, that, after leaving
Deadwood on its way to Camp Crook and Custer City in the south, runs
alternately through deep, dark canyons and gorges, with an ease and
rapidity that showed him to be well acquainted with the route. About
three miles below Deadwood he struck a trail through a transverse
canyon running north-west, through which flowed a small stream, known
as Brown's creek. The bottom was level and smooth, and a brisk walk of
a half-hour brought them to where a horse was tied to an alder
sapling.
"You mount and ride on ahead until you come to the end of the canyon,"
said Harris, untying the horse. "I will follow on after you, and be
there almost as soon as you."
Redburn would have offered some objections, but the other motioned for
him to mount and be off, so he concluded it best to obey.
The animal was a fiery one, and soon carried him out of sight of Ned,
whom he left standing in the yellow moonlight. Sooner than he expected
the gorge came to an abrupt termination in the face of a stupendous
wall of rock, and nothing remained to do but wait for young Harris.
He soon came, trotting leisurely up, only a trifle flushed in
countenance.
"This way!" he said, and seizing the animal by the bit he led horse
and rider into a black, gaping fissure in one side of the canyon, that
had hitherto escaped Redburn's notice. It was a large, narrow,
subterranean passage, barely large enough to admit the horse and
rider. Redburn soon was forced to dismount and bring up the rear.
"How far do we journey in this shape?" he demanded, after what seemed
to him a long while.
"No further," replied Ned, and the next instant they emerged into a
small, circular pocket in the midst of the mountains--one of those
beauteous flower-strewn valleys which are often found in the Black
Hills.
This "pocket," as they are called, consisted of perhaps fifty acres,
walled in on every side by rugged mountains as steep, and steeper, in
some places, than a house-roof. On the western side Brown's creek had
its source, and leaped merrily down from ledge to ledge into the
valley, across which it flowed, sinking into the earth on the eastern
side, only to bubble up again, in the canyon, with renewed strength.
The valley was one vast, indiscriminate bed of wild, fragrant flowers,
whose volume of perfume was almost sickening when first greeting the
nostrils. Every color and variety imaginable was here, all in the most
perfect bloom. In the center of the valley stood a log-cabin,
overgrown with clinging vines. There was a light in the window, and
Harris pointed toward it, as, with young Redburn, he emerged from the
fissure.
"There's my coop, pilgrim. There you will be safe for a time, at
least." He unsaddled the horse and set it free to graze.
Then they set off down across the slope, arriving at the cabin in due
time.
The door was open; a young woman, sweet, yet sad-faced, was seated
upon the steps, fast asleep.
Redburn gave an involuntary cry of incredulity and admiration as his
eyes rested upon the picture--upon the pure, sweet face, surrounded by
a wealth of golden, glossy hair, and the sylph-like form, so perfect
in every contour. But a charge of silence from Harris, made him mute.
The young man knelt by the side of the sleeping girl and imprinted a
kiss upon the fresh, unpolluted lips, which caused the sleeping beauty
to smile in her dreams.
A moment later, however, she opened her eyes and sprung to her feet
with a startled scream.
"Oh, Ned!" she gasped, trembling, as she saw him, "how you frightened
me. I had a dream--oh, such a sweet dream! and I thought _he_ came and
kissed--"
Suddenly did she stop as, for the first time, her penetrating blue
eyes rested upon Harry Blackburn.
A moment she gazed at him as in a sort of fascination; then, with a
low cry, began to retreat, growing deathly pale. Ned Harris stepped
quickly forward and supported her on his arm.
"Be calm, Anita," he said, in a gentle, reassuring tone. "This is a
young gentleman whom I have brought here to our home for a few days
until it will be safe for him to be seen in Deadwood. Mr. Redburn, I
make you acquainted with Anita."
A courteous bow from Redburn, a slight inclination of Anita's head,
and the introduction was made. A moment later the three entered the
cabin, a model of neatness and primitive luxury.
"How is it that you are up so early, dear?" young Harris asked, as he
unbuckled his belt and hung it upon a peg in the wall. "You are rarely
as spry, eh?"
"Indeed! I have not been to bed at all," replied the girl, a weary
smile wreathing her lips. "I was nervous, and feared something was
going to happen, so I staid up."
"Your old plea--the presentiment of coming danger, I suppose," and the
youth laughed, gayly. "But you need not fear. No one will invade our
little Paradise, right away. What is your opinion of it, Redburn?"
"I should say not. I think this little mountain retreat is without
equal," replied Harry, with enthusiasm. "The only wonder is, how did
you ever stumble into such a delightful place."
"Of that I will perhaps tell you, another time," said Harris,
musingly.
Day soon dawned over the mountains, and the early morning sunlight
fell with charming effect into the little "pocket," with its countless
thousands of odorous flowers, and the little ivy-clad cabin nestling
down among them all.
Sweet, sad-faced Anita prepared a sumptuous morning repast out of
antelope-steak and the eggs of wild birds, with dainty side dishes of
late summer berries, and a large luscious melon which had been grown
on a cultivated patch, contiguous to the cabin.
Both Harris and his guest did ample justice to the meal, for they had
neither eaten anything since the preceding noon. When they had
finished, Ned arose from the table, saying: "Pardner, I shall leave
you here for a few days, during which time I shall probably be mostly
away on business. Make yourself at home and see that Anita is properly
protected; I will return in a week at the furthest;--perhaps in a day
or two."
He took down his rifle and belt from the wall, buckled on the latter,
and half an hour later left the "pocket." That was a day of days to
Harry Redburn. He rambled about the picturesque little valley, romped
on the luxuriant grass and gathered wild flowers, alternately. At
night he sat in the cabin door and listened to the cries of the night
birds and the incessant hooting of the mountain owls (which by the
way, are very abundant throughout the Black Hills.)
All efforts to engage Anita in conversation proved fruitless.
On the following day both were considerably astonished to perceive
that there was a stranger in their Paradise;--a bow-legged,
hump-backed, grisly little old fellow, who walked with a staff. He
approached the cabin, and Redburn went out to find who he was.
"Gude-mornin'!" nodded General Nix, (for it was he) with a grin. "I
jes' kim over inter this deestrict ter prospect fer gold. Don' seem
ter recognize yer unkle, eh? boy; I'm Nix Walsingham Nix, Esquire,
geological surveyor an' mine-locater. I've located more nor forty
thousan' mines in my day, more or less--ginerally a consider'ble more
of less than less of more. I perdict frum ther geological formation o'
this nest an' a dream I hed last night, thet thar's sum uv ther
biggest veins right in this yere valley as ye'll find in ther Hills!"
"Humph! no gold here," replied Redburn, who had already learned from
study and experience how to guess a fat strike. "It is out of the
channel."
"No; et's right in the channel."
"Well, I'll not dispute you. How did you get into the valley?"
"Through ther pass," and the General chuckled approvingly. "See'd a
feller kim down ther canyon, yesterday, so I nosed about ter find
whar he kim from, that's how I got here; 'sides, I hed a dream about
this place."
"Indeed!" Redburn was puzzled how to act under the circumstances. Just
then there came a piercing scream from the direction of the cabin.
What could it mean? Was Nix an enemy, and was some one else of his
gang attacking Anita?
Certainly she _was_ in trouble!