Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road; or, The Black Rider of the Black Hills — John Shaqi
Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road; or, The Black Rider of the Black HillsWheeler, Edward L. (Edward Lytton)
General
Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road; or, The Black Rider of the Black Hills
Wheeler, Edward L. (Edward Lytton)
Dime novels; Fiction; Western stories
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 Dick'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 assertion!
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 Dick'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 cock; "you cursed fool; don't you know that
that only seals yer own miserable fate?"
She took deliberate aim, but Dick 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 assent, 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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