Part 5 (1/2)
”Hold! there are yet a few redeeming qualities about her. She was _ruined_--” and here a shade dark as a thunder-cloud pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sistance. 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 Ca.s.s 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 hoa.r.s.e 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 pa.s.sage, 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--”