Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road; or, The Black Rider of the Black Hills
Page 9
CHAPTER IX.
AT THE "MET."
A few nights subsequent to the events related in our last chapter, itbecomes our duty to again visit the notorious "Metropolitan" saloon ofDeadwood, to see what is going on there.
As usual everything around the place and in it is literally "red hot."The bars are constantly crowded, the gaming-tables are never empty,and the floor is so full of surging humanity that the dance, formerlya chief attraction, has necessarily been suspended.
The influx of "pilgrims" into the Black Hills for the last few dayshas been something more than wonderful, every stage coming inovercharged with feverish passengers, and from two to a dozen trainsarriving daily.
Of course Deadwood receives a larger share of all thisimmigration--nothing is more natural, for the young metropolis of thehills is _the_ miner's rendezvous, being in the center of the bestyielding locates.
Every person in Deadwood can tell you where the "Met" is, as it isgeneral head-quarters.
We mount the mud-splashed steps and disappear behind the screen thatstands in front of the door. Then the merry clink of glasses, snatchesof ribald song, and loud curses from the polluted lips of some wretchwho has lost heavily at the gaming-table, reach our hearing, while ourgaze wanders over as motley a crowd as it has ever been our fortune tobehold.
Men from the States--lawyers, doctors, speculators, adventurers,pilgrims, and dead-beats; men from the western side of the Missouri;grisly miners from Colorado; hunters and trappers from Idaho andWyoming; card sharps from Denver and Fr'isco; pickpockets from St. Joeand bummers from Omaha--all are here, each one a part of a strange andon the whole a very undesirable community.
Although the dance has been suspended, that does not necessitate thedischarge of the brazen-faced girls, and they may yet be seen herewith the rest mingling freely among the crowd.
Seated at a table in a somewhat retired corner, were two personsengaged at cards. One was a beardless youth attired in buck-skin, andarmed with knife and pistols; the other a big, burly tough from theupper chain--grisly, bloated and repulsive. He, too, was nothing shortof a walking arsenal, and it was plain to see that he was a desperatecharacter.
The game was poker. The youth had won three straight games and nowlaid down the cards that ended the fourth in his favor.
"You're flaxed ag'in, pardner!" he said, with a light laugh, as heraked in the stakes. "This takes your all, eh?"
"Every darned bit!" said the "Cattymount"--for it was he--with anoath. "You've peeled me to ther hide, an' no mistake. Salivated me'way out o' time, sure's thar ar' modesty in a bar-girl's tongue!"
The youth laughed. "You are not in luck to-night. Maybe your luck willreturn, if you keep on. Haven't you another V?"
"Nary another!"
"Where's your pard, that got salted the other night?"
"Who--Chet Diamond? Wal, hee's around heer, sum'ars, but I can't borrynone off o' him. No; I've gotter quit straight off."
"I'll lend you ten to begin on," said the youth, and he laid an X inthe ruffian's hands. "There, now, go ahead with your funeral. It'syour deal."
The cards were dealt, and the game played, resulting in the favor ofthe "Cattymount." Another and another was played, and the tough wonevery time. Still the youth kept on, a quiet smile resting on hispleasant features, a twinkle in his coal-black eye. The youth, dearreader, you have met before.
_He_ is not he, but instead--Calamity Jane. On goes the game, theburly "tough" winning all the time, his pile of tens steadilyincreasing in hight.
"Talk about Joner an' the ark, an' Noar an' ther whale!" he cries,slapping another X onto the pile with great enthusiasm; "I hed agrate, grate muther-in-law w'at played keerds wi' Noar inside o' theteyedentical whale's stummick--played poker wi' w'alebones fer pokers.They were afterward landed at Plymouth rock, or sum uther big rock,an' fit together, side by side, in the rebellyuns."
"Indeed!"--with an amused laugh--"then you must have descended from along line of respected ancestors."
"Auntsisters? Wa'al, I jest about reckon I do. I hev got ther blood o'Cain and Abel in my veins, boyee, an' ef I ken't raise the biggestkind o' Cain tain't because I ain't _able_--oh! no. Pace anutherpilgrim?"
"I reckon. How much have ye got piled up thar in that heap!"
"Squar' ninety tens, my huckleberry, an' all won fa'r, you bet."
"Then it's the first time you ever won anything fair, Cass Diamond!"exclaimed a voice close hand, and the two players looked up to see NedHarris standing near by, with his hands clasped across his breast.
Calamity Jane nodded, indifferently. She had seen the young miner onseveral occasions; once she had been rendered an invaluable servicewhen he rescued her from a brawl in which a dozen toughs had attackedher.
"Cattymount" Cass, brother of Chet Diamond, the Deadwood card-king,recognized him also, and with an oath, sprung to his feet.
"By all the Celestyals!" he ejaculated, jerking forth asix-shooter--"by all the roarin', screechin, shriekin', yowlin',squawkin,' ring-tailed, flat-futted cattymounts thet ever did therforest aisles o' old Alaska traverse! _you_ here, ye infernalsmooth-faced varmint? _You_ heer, arter all ye've did to ride thercittyzens o' Deadwood inter rebellyun, ye leetle pigminian deputy uvther devil? Hurra! hurra! boys; let's string him up ter ther nearestsapling!"
"Hal ha!" laughed Harris, coolly, "hear the coward squeal for hispard's assistance. Dassen't stand on his own leather fer fear ofgettin' salted fer all he's worth."
"You're a liar!" roared the "Cattymount" spreading himself aboutpromiscuously, but the two words had scarcely left his lips when ablow from the fist of Ned Harris reached him under the left eye, andhe went sprawling on the ground in a heap.
"Here! here!" roared a stranger, rushing in upon the scene, andhurling the crowd aside with a dexterity something wonderful. "What isthe meaning of all this? Who knocked Cass Diamond down?"
"I had that honor!" coolly remarked Ned Harris, stepping boldly up andconfronting the Deadwood card-king, for it was the notorious ChetDiamond who had asked the question. "I smacked him in the gob, ChetDiamond, for calling me a liar, and am ready to accommodate a fewmore, if there are any who wish to prefer the same charge!"
"Bully, Ned! and here's what will back you!" cried Calamity Jane,leaping to the miner's side, a cocked six in either white, shapelyhand; "so sail in, pilgrims!"
Diamond cowered back, and swore furiously. The wound in his breast wasyet sore and rankling, and he knew he owed it to the cool andcalculating young miner whose name was an omen of terror among toe"toughs" of Deadwood.
"Come on, you black-hearted ace thief!" shouted Calamity Jane,thrusting the muzzle of one of her plated revolvers forcibly under thegambler's prominent nose--"come on! slide in if you are after squar'up-an'-down fun. We'll greet you, best we know how, an' not charge youanything, either. See! I've got a couple full hands o' sixes--everyone's a trump! Ain't ye got no aces hid up yer sleeves?"
The card sharp still cursed furiously, and backed away. He dare notreach for a weapon lest the dare-devil girl or young Harris (who nowheld a cocked pill-box in each hand),-"should salt him on a full lay."
"Ha! ha! ha!" and the laugh of Calamity rung wildly through the greatsaloon--"Ha! ha! ha! here's a go! Who wants to buy a cupped-wingedsharp?"
"Sold out right cheap!" added Ned, facetiously. "Clear the track andwe'll take him out and boost him to a limb."
At this juncture some half a dozen of the gambler's gang came rushingup, headed by Catamount Cass, who had recovered from the effects ofthe blow from Harris' fist.
"At them! at 'em!" roared the "screechin' cattymount frum up nor'.""Rip, dig an' gouge 'em. Ho! ho! we'll see now who'll swing, _we_will! We'll l'arn who'll display his agility in mid-air, we will. At'em, b'yees, at 'em. We'll hang 'em like they do hoss-thieves down atCheyenne!"
Then followed a pitched battle in the bar-room of the "Metropolitan"saloon, such as probably never occurred there before, and never hassince.
Revolvers flashed on e
very hand, knives clashed in deadly conflict;yells, wild, savage, and awful made a perfect pandemonium, to whichwas added a second edition in the shape of oaths, curses, and groans.Crack! whiz! bang! the bullets flew about like hailstones, and menfell to the reeking floor each terrible moment.
The two friends were not alone in the affray.
No sooner had Catamount Cass and his gang of "toughs" showed fight,than a company of miners sprung to Harris' side, and showed theirwillingness to fight it out on the square line.
Therefore, once the first shot was fired, it needed not a word topitch the battle.
Fiercely waged the contest--now hand to hand--loud rose the savageyells on the still night air.
One by one men fell on either side, their life-blood crimsoning thefloor, their dying groans unheeded in the fearful melee.
Still unharmed, and fighting among the first, we see Ned Harris andhis remarkable companion, Calamity Jane; both are black, and scarcelyrecognizable in the cloud of smoke that fills the bar-room. Harris iswounded in a dozen places and weak from loss of blood; yet he standsup bravely and fights mechanically.
Calamity Jane if she is wounded shows it not, but faces the music withas little apparent fear as any of those around her.
On wages the battle, even as furiously as in its beginning; the lastshot has been fired; it is now knife to knife, and face to face.
Full as many of one side as the other have fallen, and lay strewnabout under foot, unthought of, uncared for in the excitement of thedesperate moment. Gallons of blood have made the floor slippery andreeking, so that it is difficult to retain one's footing.
At the head of the ruffians the Diamond brothers[C] still hold sway,fighting like madmen in their endeavors to win a victory. They cannotdo less, for to back off in this critical moment means sure death tothe weakening party.
But hark! what are these sounds?
The thunder of hoofs is heard outside; the rattle of musketry andsabers, and the next instant a company of soldiery, headed by MajorR----, ride straight up into the saloon, firing right and left.
"Come!" cried Calamity Jane, grasping Harris by the arm, and pullinghim toward a side door, "it's time for us to slope now. It's every manfor himself."
And only under her guidance was Ned able to escape, and save beingtailed and captured with the rest.
* * * * *
About noon of the succeeding day, two persons on horseback were comingalong the north gulch leading into Deadwood, at an easy canter. Theywere the fearless Scarlet Boy, or as he is better known, FearlessFrank, and his lovely protege, Miss Terry. They had been for a morningride over to a neighboring claim, and were just returning.
Since their arrival in Deadwood the youth had devoted a part of histime in a search for Alice's father, but all to no avail. None of thecitizens of Deadwood or its surroundings had ever heard of such aperson as Captain Walter Terry.
The young couple had become fast friends from their association, andAlice was improving in looks every day she stayed in the mountains.
"I feel hungry," observed Frank, as they rode along. "This life in thehills gives me a keen appetite. How is it with you, lady?"
"The same as with you, I guess. But look! Yonder comes a horsemantoward us!"
It was even so. A horseman was galloping up the gulch--no other thanour young friend, Ned Harris.
As the two parties approach, the faces of each of the youths growdeadly pale; there comes into their eyes an ominous glitter; theirhands each clasp the butt of a revolver, and they gradually draw rein.
That they are enemies of old--that the fire of rancor burns in theirhearts, and that this meeting is unexpected, is plain to see.
Now, that they have met, probably for the first time in months oryears, it remains not to be doubted but a settlement must come betweenthem--that their hate must result in satisfaction, whether in blood ornot.