AT THE CABIN.
What did it mean?
Had the old hump-backed, bow-legged mine-locater gone crazy, or was he
purposely insulting the beautiful maiden? Fearless Frank stood aside,
apparently offering no objections to the hugging, and the Indians did
likewise.
At least Miss Terry made no serious attempts to free herself from the
"General's" bear-like embrace.
A few bounds brought Redburn to the spot, panting, breathless,
perspiring. "What is the meaning of this disgraceful scene?" he
demanded, angrily.
"Disgraceful!" The old "General" set Miss Terry down on her feet,
after giving her a resounding smack, and turned to stare at the young
miner, in astonishment. "Disgraceful! Waal, young man, ter tell the
solid Old Testament truth, more or less--consider'bly less o' more 'n
more o' less--I admire yer cheek, hard an' unblushin' as et ar'. Ye
call my givin' this pretty piece o' feminine gander a squar', fatherly
sort o' a hug, _disgraceful_, do ye? Think et's all out o' ther bounds
o' propriety, do ye?"
"I look at it in that light, yes," Redburn replied.
"Haw! haw! haw!" and the General shook his fat sides with immoderate
laughter. "Why, pilgrim-tender-fut, this 'ere hundred an' twenty-six
pounds o' feminine gender b'longs to me--ter yours, truly, Walsingham
Nix--an' I have a parfec' indervidual right ter hug an' kiss her as
much as I please, wi'out brookin' enny interference frum you. Alice,
dear, this ar' Harry Redburn, ginerall sup'intendent o' ther Flower
Pocket gold-mines, an' 'bout as fair specimen as they make, nowadays.
Mr. Redburn, I'll formally present you to Miss Alice Terry, _my
darter!_"
Redburn colored, and was not a little disconcerted on account of his
blunder; but he rallied in a moment, and acknowledged the introduction
with becoming grace and dignity.
"You must excuse my interference," he said, earnestly. "I saw the old
'General' here taking liberties that no stranger should take, and
knowing nothing of the relationship existing between you, I was
naturally inclined to think that he was either drunk or crazy;
therefore I deemed it necessary to investigate. No offense, I hope."
"Of course not." and Alice smiled one of her sweetest smiles. "You did
perfectly right and are deserving of no censure, whatever."
After a few moments of desultory conversation, Redburn took the
"General" to one side, and spoke on the subject of Fearless Frank and
Anita Harris--of his action in the matter, and so forth. Nix--or
Terry, as the latter was evidently his real name--heartily coincided
with his views, and both agreed that it was best not to let the
Scarlet Boy come within range of Anita, or, at least, not till Ned
Harris should return, when he could do as he chose.
Accordingly it was decided that Fearless Frank should be set to work
in the quartz mine, that being the furthest from the cabin, and he
could eat and sleep either in the mine or in the crusher building,
whichever he liked best.
After settling this point the two men rejoined the others, and Frank
was apprised of their decision. He made no remarks upon it, but it was
plain to see that he was anything but satisfied. His wild spirit
yearned for constant freedom.
The Utes were dismissed and sent back to their work; the "General"
strolled off with McKenzie toward the quartz mine; it devolved upon
Redburn to escort Alice to the cabin, which he did with pleasure, and
gave her an introduction to sweet, sad-faced Anita, who awaited their
coming in the open doorway.
The two girls greeted each other with warmth; it was apparent that
they would become fast friends when they learned more of each other.
As for Redburn, he was secretly enamored with the "General's" pretty
daughter; she was beautiful, and evidently accomplished, and her
progenitor was financially well-to-do. What then was lacking to make
her a fitting mate for any man? Redburn pondered deeply on this
subject, as he left the girls together, and went out to see to his
duties in the mines.
He found Terry and Fearless Frank in the quartz mine, looking at the
swarthy-skinned miners; examining new projected slopes; suggesting
easier methods for working out different lumps of gold-bearing rock.
While the former's knowledge of practical mining was extended, the
latter's was limited.
"I think thet thar ar' bigger prospects yet, in further," the old
locater was saying. "I ain't much varsed on jeeological an'
toppygraffical formation, myself, ye see; but then, it kinder 'peers
to me thet this quartz vein ar' a-goin' to hold out fer a consider'ble
time yet."
"Doubtless. More straight digging an' less slopes I should think would
be practicable," McKenzie observed.
"I don't see it!" said Redburn, joining them. "Sloping and
transversing discovers new veins, while line work soon plays out. I
think things are working in excellent order at present."
They all made a tour of the mine which had been dug a considerable
distance into the mountain. The quartz was ordinarily productive, and
being rather loosely thrown together was blasted down without any
extra trouble. After a short consultation, Redburn and the "General"
concluded to place Frank over the Utes as superintendent and
mine-boss, as they saw that he was not used to digging, blasting or
any of the rough work connected with the mine, although he was
clear-headed and inventive.
When tendered the position it was gratefully accepted by him, he
expressing it his intention to work for the interest of his employers
as long as he should stay in the gulch.
Night at last fell over the Flower Pocket gold-mines, and work ceased.
The Utes procured their own food--mainly consisting of fish from the
little creek and deer and mountain birds that could be brought down at
almost any hour from the neighboring crags--and slept in the open air.
Redburn had McKenzie a comfortable bed made in the crusher-house, and
sent him out a meal fit for a prince.
As yet, Anita knew nothing of the scarlet youth's identity;--scarcely
knew, in fact, that he was in the valley.
At the cabin, the evening meal was dispatched with a general
expression of cheerfulness about the board. Anita seemed less downcast
than usual, and the vivacious Alice made life and merriment for all.
She was witty where wit was proper, and sensible in an unusual degree.
Redburn was infatuated with her. He watched her with an expression of
fondness in his eyes; he admired her every gesture and action; he saw
something new to admire in her, each moment he was in her society.
When the evening meal was cleared away, he took down the guitar, and
sung several ballads, the old "General" accompanying him with his rich
deep bass, and Alice with her clear birdlike alto; and the sweet
melody of the trio's voices called forth round after round of
rapturous applause from the road-agents camped upon the slope, and
from the Utes who were lounging here and there among the flower-beds
of the valley. But of the lot, Deadwood Dick was the only one bold
enough to approach the cabin, he came sauntering along and halted on
the threshold, nodding to the occupants of the little apartment with a
nonchalance which was not assumed.
"Good-evening!" he said, tipping his sombrero, but taking care not to
let the mask slip from his face. "I hope mine is not an intrusion.
Hearing music, I was loth to stay away, for I am a great lover of
music;--it is the one passion that appeals to my better nature."
He seated himself on the little stone step, and motioned for Redburn
to proceed.
One of those inside the cabin had been strangely affected at the sight
of Dick, and that person was Anita. She turned deathly pale, her eyes
assumed an expression of affright, and she trembled violently, as she
first saw him. The Prince of the Road, however, if he saw her, noticed
not her agitation; in fact, he took not the second glance at her while
he remained at the cabin. His eyes were almost constantly fastening
upon the lovely face and form of Alice.
Thinking it best to humor one who might become either a powerful enemy
or an influential friend, Redburn accordingly struck up a lively air,
_a la banjo_, and in exact imitation of a minstrel, rendered "Gwine to
Get a Home, Bymeby." And the thunders of _encore_ that came from the
outside listeners, showed how surely he had touched upon a pleasant
chord. He followed that with several modern serio-comic songs, all of
which were received well and heartily applauded.
"That recalls memories of good old times," said the road-agent, as he
leaned back against the door-sill, and gazed at the mountains, grand,
majestic, stupendous, and the starlit sky, azure, calm and serene.
"Recalls the days of early boyhood, that were gay, pure, and happy.
Ah! ho!"
He heaved a deep sign, and his head dropped upon his breast.
A deathlike silence pervaded the cabin; that one heartfelt sigh
aroused a sensation of pity in each of the four hearts that beat
within the cabin walls.
That the road-agent was a gentleman in disguise, was not to be
gainsayed; all felt that, despite his outlawed calling, he was
deserving of a place among them, in his better moods.
As if to accord with his mood, Alice began a sweet birdlike song, full
of tender pathos, and of quieting sympathy.
It was a quaint Scottish melody,--rich in its honeyed meaning, sweetly
weird and pitiful; wonderfully soothing and nourishing to a weeping
spirit.
Clear and flute-like the maiden's cultured voice swelled out on the
still night air, and the mountain echoes caught up the strains and
lent a wild peculiar accompaniment.
Deadwood Dick listened, with his head still bowed, and his hands
clasped about one knee;--listened in a kind of fascination, until the
last reverberations of the song had died out in a wailing echo; then
he sprung abruptly to his feet, drew one hand wearily across the
masked brow; raised his sombrero with a deft movement, and bowed
himself out--out into the night, where the moon and stars looked down
at him, perhaps with more lenience than on some.
Alice Terry rose from her seat, crossed over to the door, and gazed
after the straight handsome form, until it had mingled with the other
road-agents, who had camped upon the slope. Then she turned about, and
sat down on the couch beside Anita.
"You are still, dear," she said, stroking the other's long, unconfined
hair. "Are you lonely? If not why don't you say something?"
"I have nothing to say," replied Anita, a sad, sweet smile playing
over her features. "I have been too much taken up with the music to
think of talking."
"But, you are seldom talkative."
"So brother used to tell me. He said I had lost my heart, and tongue."
Redburn was drumming on the window-casing with his fingers;--a sort of
lonely tattoo it was.
"You seemed to be much interested in the outlaw. Miss Terry," he
observed, as if by chance the thought had just occurred to him, when,
in reality, he was downright jealous. "Had you two ever met--"
"Certainly not, sir," and Alice flashed him an inquiring glance. "Why
do you ask?"
"Oh! for no reason, in particular, only I fancied that song was meant
especially for him."
Redburn, afterward, would have given a hundred dollars to have
recalled those words, for the haughty, half-indignant look Alice gave
him instantly showed him he was on the wrong track.
If he wished to court her favor, it must be in a different way, and he
must not again give her a glimpse of his jealous nature.
"You spoke of a brother," said Alice, turning to Anita. "Does he live
here with you?"
"Yes, when not away on business. He has now been absent for over a
month."
"Indeed! Is he as sweet, sad, and silent as yourself?"
"Oh! no; Ned is unlike me; he is buoyant, cheerful, pleasant."
"Ned? What is his full name, dear?"
"Edward Harris."
Alice grew suddenly pale and speechless, as she remembered the
handsome young miner whom Fearless Frank had slain in the duel, just
outside of Deadwood. This, then, was his sister; and evidently she as
yet knew nothing of his sad fate.
"Do you know aught concerning Edward Harris?" Redburn asked, seeing
her agitation. Alice considered a moment.
"I do," she answered, at last. "This Fearless Frank, whom I came here
with, had a duel with a man, just above Deadwood, whose name was
Edward Harris!"
"My God;--and his fate--?"
"He was instantly killed, and left lying where he dropped!"
There was a scream of agony, just here, and a heavy fall.
Anita had fainted!