"Yes; they that took the road-agent"

"I don't know 'm. Guess they're tender-foots--some former enemies of his, without doubt. They propose to quiz a secret about some girl out of him, and then knife him. We'll have to hurry or they'll get their work in ahead of us."

They left the mouth of the mine, and skurried down into the valley, through the dense shroud of gloom.

Calamity Jane led the way; she was both fleet of foot and cautious.

Let us look down on the foot-hill camp, and the two Fillmores who are stationed on either side of their prisoner.

The younger presses the muzzle of his revolver against Deadwood d.i.c.k's heart; the elder holds a long gleaming knife upheld in his right hand.

"One!" he counts, savagely.

"Two!"--after a momentary pause. Another lapse of time, and then--

"Hold! gentlemen; that will do!" cries a clear ringing voice; and Calamity Jane and McKenzie, stepping out of the darkness, with four gleaming "sixes" in hand, confirm the pleasant a.s.sertion!

CHAPTER XVI.

THE ROAD-AGENT'S MERCY--CONCLUSION.

Nevertheless, the gleaming blade of Alexander Filmore descended, and was buried in the fleshy part of Deadwood d.i.c.k's neck, making a wound, painful but not necessarily dangerous.

"You vile varmint," cried Calamity Jane, pulling the hammer of one of her revolvers back to full c.o.c.k; "you cursed fool; don't you know that that only seals yer own miserable fate?"

She took deliberate aim, but d.i.c.k interrupted her.

"Don't shoot, Jennie!" he gasped, the blood spurting from his wound; "this ain't none o' your funeral. Give three shrill whistles for my men, and they'll take care o' these hounds until I'm able to attend to 'em. Take me to the cab--"

He could not finish the sentence; a sickening stream of blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell back upon the ground insensible.

Fearless Frank gave the three shrill whistles, while Calamity Jane covered the two cowering wretches with her revolvers.

The distress signal was answered by a yell, and in a few seconds five road-agents came bounding up.

"Seize these two cusses, and guard 'em well!" Calamity said, grimly.

"They are a precious pair, and in a few days, no doubt, you'll have the pleasure of attending their funerals. Your captain is wounded, but not dangerously, I hope. We will take him to the cabin, where there are light and skillful hands to dress his wounds. When he wants you, we will let you know. Be sure and guard these knaves well, now."

The men growled an a.s.sent, and after binding the captives' arms, hustled them off toward camp, in double quick time, muttering threats of vengeance. Fearless Frank and Calamity then carefully raised the stricken road-agent, and bore him to the cabin, where he was laid upon the couch. Of course, all was now excitement.

Redburn and Alice set to work to dress the bleeding wound, with Jane and the "General" looking on to see that nothing was left undone.

Fearless Frank stood apart from the rest, his arms folded across his breast, a grave, half-doubtful expression upon his handsome, sun-browned features.

Anita was not in the room at the time, but she came in a moment later, and stood gazing about her in wondering surprise. Then, her eyes rested upon Fearless Frank for the first, and she grew deathly white; she trembled in every limb; a half-frightened, half-pitiful look came into her eyes.

The young man in scarlet was similarly effected. His cheeks blanched; his lips became firmly compressed; a mastering expression fell from his dark magnetic orbs.

There they stood, face to face, a picture of doubt; of indifferent respect, of opposite strong pa.s.sions, subdued to control by a heavy hand.

None of the others noticed them; they were alone, confronting each other; trying to read the other's thoughts; the one penitent and craving forgiveness, the other cold almost to sternness, and yet not unwilling to forgive and forget.

Deadwood d.i.c.k's wound was quickly and skillfully dressed; it was not dangerous, but was so exceedingly painful that the pangs soon brought him back to consciousness.

The moment he opened his eyes he saw Fearless Frank and Anita--perceived their position toward each other, and that it would require only a single word to bridge the chasm between them. A hard look came into his eyes as they gazed through the holes in the mask, then he gazed at Alice--sweet piquant Alice--and the hardness melted like snow before the spring sunshine.

"Thank G.o.d it was no deeper," he said, sitting upright, and rubbing the tips of his black-glove fingers over the patches that covered the gash, "Although deucedly bothersome, it is not of much account."

To the surprise of all he sprung to his feet, and strode to the door.

Here he stopped, and looked around for a few moments, sniffing at the cool mountain breeze, as a dog would. A single cedar tree stood by the cabin, its branches, bare and naked, stretching out like huge arms above the doorway. And it was at these the road-agent gazed, a savage gleam in his piercing black eyes.

After a few careful observations, he turned his face within the cabin.

"Justin McKenzie," he said, gazing at the young man, steadily, "I want you to do me a service. Go to my camp, and say to my men that I desire their presence here, together with the two prisoners, and a couple of stout lariats, with nooses at the end of them. Hurry, now!"

Fearless Frank started a trifle, for he seemed to recognize the voice; but the next instant he bowed a.s.sent, and left the cabin. When he was gone, d.i.c.k turned to Redburn.

"Have you a gla.s.s of water handy, Cap? This jab in the gullet makes me somewhat thirsty," he said.

Redburn nodded, and procured the drink; then a strange silence pervaded the cabin--a silence that no one seemed willing to break.

At last the tramp of many feet was heard, and a moment later the road-agents, with Fearless Frank at their head, reached the doorway, where they halted. The moment Deadwood d.i.c.k came forward, there was a wild, deafening cheer.

"Hurra! hurra! Deadwood d.i.c.k, Prince of the Road, still lives. Three long hearty cheers, lads, and a hummer!" cried Fearless Frank, and then the mountain echoes reverberated with a thousand discordant yells of hurrah.

The young road-agent responded with a nod, and then said:

"The prisoners; have you them there?"

"Here they are, Cap!" cried a score of voices, and the two Filmores were trotted out to the front, with ropes already about their necks.

"Shall we h'ist 'em?"

"Not jest yet, boys: I have a few words to say, first."

Then turning half-about in the doorway, Deadwood d.i.c.k continued:

"Ladies and gentlemen, a little tragedy is about to take place here soon, and it becomes necessary that I should say a few words explaining what cause I have for hanging these two wretches whom you see here.

"Therefore, I will tell you a short story, and you will see that my cause is just, as we look at these things here in this delectable country of the Black Hills. To begin with:

"My name is, to you, _Edward Harris!_" and here the road-agent flung aside the black mask, revealing the smiling face of the young card-sharp. "I have another--my family name--but I do not use it, preferring Harris to it. Anita, yonder; is my sister.

"Several years ago, when we were children, living in one of the Eastern States, we were made orphans by the death of our parents, who were drowned while driving upon a frozen lake in company with my uncle, Alexander Filmore, and his son, Clarence--those are the parties yonder, and as G.o.d is my judge, I believe they are answerable for the death of our father and mother.

"Alexander Filmore was appointed guardian over us, and executor of our property, which amounted to somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty thousand dollars, my father having been for years extensively engaged in speculation, at which he was most always successful.