Their nooning was short, and taking the precaution to water their horses well, and fill their canteens, they rode forward over the well-defined trail quite swiftly.

Toward night they could see the trail freshened, but nothing was in sight except a distant mark when night fell, which the Texan said was the timber where the party ahead would camp. Just as the sun was setting smoke was seen to rise in that direction, and the Texan spoke contemptuously of the carelessness which would thus expose a camping-place to those who were miles distant.

"If a captain of a ranger band would do such a thing in Texas," he said, "his men would reduce him to the ranks and put one in his place who knew how to be cautious."

"It surely is imprudent. But they are a large party to cook for, and must have large fires," said Pond.

The young Texan laughed scornfully.

"Let every man make his own fire, make such fires as you have seen me make, and the smoke could not be seen a rifle-shot away," was the answer. "That party will never reach the Hills. Mark that! If Indians are within twenty miles they'll see a smoke like that. But what is it to us? We're safe."

"I am not so selfish as to wish harm to reach them, even if we are safe!" said Pond, testily.

"That is as much as to say that I am selfish. Well, I acknowledge it. I go in for number one. If they can't take ordinary care of themselves, let them suffer."

Willie Pond made no answer, but rode on in silence. Night was now upon them, and all was still except the thud of the galloping hoofs upon the plain.

Suddenly a gleam of fire was seen far ahead. The Texan noted it, and swerved off to the left.

"There is the camp," he said. "I can easily find our resting-place now. I was afraid we would not see their fires until we were right up to the timber. But they are careless with their fire as they are with their smoke. We shall have moonlight in an hour, and in less time we'll be in camp."

He rode on now, more slowly, for the horses were tired, and he seemed to know so well where to go that there was no haste.

The moon was just above the trees when the Texan led the way into a narrow ravine, with heavy timber on either side. Up this, full ten minutes they rode, and then an exclamation of pleased wonder broke from the lips of Willie Pond. For they came out into an open circular plain or area of several acres in extent, covered with rich grass and centered by a bright, mirror-like lake.

"What a lovely spot!" cried Pond. "Who on earth would dream of finding such a paradise inside of gates so dark and rude."

"One who had been here before," said the Texan. "But speak low, for careless as they may be over there in camp, some one might be outside listening."

"Why, it is over a mile away, is it not?"

"Yes, along the line of the wood. But over this cliff, were it crossed, it is not a quarter of that distance."

And the Texan pointed to a rugged tree-crowned cliff on their right.

"I will be careful," said Pond. "My enthusiasm breaks out when I see beautiful things. I can hardly restrain myself."

"We will unsaddle and camp. Our horses are tired, and need food and drink," was all that the Texan said.

And he at once unloaded the pack-horse, and unsaddled his mustang.

Pond, becoming more handy, now did the same for Black Hawk, who seemed to take quite a fancy to his new master, curving his back proudly under his caressing touch.

"Shall I picket him, as we did at the last camp?" asked Pond, when he had unsaddled his horse.

"No, let him go with mine. They have been together long enough to mate, and they'll feed peaceably in company. Mine will never stray or stampede, and the other will not go off alone."

The simple camp was soon fixed; and as they had cooked meat left, and biscuit, with plenty of water to drink, both agreed that there was no necessity to build any fire.

"The smell of smoke might reach some sharp-nosed scout over there," said the Texan, "for the wind blows that way. We'll eat, and then turn in, for rest will come good to both of us."

The horses plunged off to the water and drank, and then went to cropping the luxuriant grass, while their masters ate their suppers with appetites strengthened by their long and wearying ride.

After they had supped, Willie Pond would, as usual, have enjoyed his dainty cigarette, had not the Texan warned him that tobacco smoke would scent farther than any other, and might be more dangerous, in betraying their presence, than anything else.

So Mr. Pond had to forego his smoke. He took a blanket, and moving up to a little mossy knoll just under the edge of the cliff, threw himself down to sleep.

The Texan also took his blanket, but he lay down near the saddles and packs.

Pond was so very weary that he soon fell asleep. How long he slept he did not know, but a strange, oppressive dream woke him, and with the moonlight, shining full in the valley, while he lay shaded beneath a tree and the overhanging cliff, he saw a sight which froze his very heart with a mortal terror.

The ravine by which he and his companion had entered was filled with mounted Indians, who were riding silently into the little valley.

CHAPTER XV. CHEATED OF THEIR PREY.

Literally dumb with terror, so weak that he could not rise, Pond saw this strange cavalcade moving up toward the little lake, and looked to the spot where the Texan had lain down to see if he had yet taken the alarm.

To his wonder and redoubled alarm, he saw the Texan not alone, but with a white man, dressed in buckskin, by his side, and a woman also, apparently in friendly converse, calmly waiting the Indian advance.

Recognizing at a glance the woman as Addie Neidic, Pond realized that the man must be no other than Persimmon Bill, and that his followers were the blood-thirsty Sioux, whom he headed.

"Heaven help me! There is some fearful treachery here. Wild Bill and his companions are lost if they are not warned in time. How can it be done?"

How strangely, as if by intuition, strategy, and cunning thought come to some when environed by unlooked-for danger.

Without a moment's hesitation, Pond so arranged his blanket that if glanced at it would appear he was yet sleeping under it, for he left his hat on the stone where his head had been, and his rifle leaning against the tree right over it.

Then, bare-headed, with no weapons but his pistols and knife in his belt, he crept off up the hill-side with the silence and stealth of a scout who had been a life-time in the business. He wondered at himself as he began to scale the mountain-side, not daring to look back, how he could creep up amid those fearful crags so noiselessly, and how he could have got away unseen, when the Texan and those who were with him were not a pistol shot away.

On, on he kept, ever seeking the shadowed spots, where no moonlight could reveal his form, until at last he was on the very crest of the hill. Looking down he plainly saw the camp-fires of the Black Hillers below. They were most likely buried in slumber, and, if they had sentinels out, his life would be endangered by a rapid approach. But of this he seemed not to think as he hurried almost recklessly down through thickets, over crags, and along rugged gulches.

How he got down he hardly knew, but he was down, and rushing toward the nearest fire, when he heard a stern, short summons close in his front:

"Halt! Who comes there?"

A man, armed with rifle and pistols, stepped from the shadow of a tree, and Pond gasped out:

"A friend. A friend come to save all your lives. There are a hundred Indians within a mile of you, led by the desperado Persimmon Bill."

"Who are you?" was the stern inquiry.

"Wild Bill will know me. Take me to him, quick!" was the response.

"To our captain first. Come along!" said the sentinel.

The next moment Willie Pond was in the presence of Sam Chichester and Captain Jack, telling his story.

"It looks like truth, and if it is, the quicker we get out of here the better. If we can get fifteen or twenty miles the start we may keep it," said Chichester.

"He says Wild Bill knows him. Where is Bill?" cried Jack. "Ah, there he comes."

Bill, awakened by hearing his name called, was rising, and now approached the party.

Pond sprang forward, and addressed him hurriedly in whispered tones.

Wild Bill for an instant seemed lost in astonishment, his first exclamation being, "Great Heaven! you here?"

But after he heard the whispered words he only added, addressing Chichester:

"Captain, this friend of mine will not lie. We are in danger, and he has risked his life to save us. I want a spare horse for him, and the sooner we get from here, the better for our hair."

With as little noise as possible, the whole party were aroused, and the danger explained. Quickly the animals were saddled, and in less than twenty minutes the camp-ground was all deserted, though more fuel had been purposely heaped on the fires to keep up the appearance of occupation, if scouts should be sent to examine the camp.

"It lacks four hours yet to daylight!" said Chichester to Captain Jack, "We'll get just that much start, for they'll make no attack until just as day begins to break. I know the ways of them red cusses only too well."

"You haven't much the advantage of me in that kind of knowledge, Sam. But if that fellow was anywhere right as to their numbers, and the Sioux are well mounted, they'll bother us yet before we get to the hills, no matter if we do get eighteen or twenty miles the start!"

"We'll give 'em a long race and a tough tussle before they get our hair any way!" said Chichester. "I wonder who that fellow is? Bill seems to like him right well, for they ride as close as their horses can move together. Bill has supplied him with a hat—he came in bare-headed, you know."

"Yes; he must have had a terrible climb to get over to us. The only wonder is he got away undiscovered."

"He said he left his blanket in a shape to make them think he was sleeping under it."

"He must be an old hand to fool them so nicely."

"He doesn't look like it, He doesn't ride like a scout or a plainsman—he sits his horse too gracefully."

"No matter; one thing is certain. Wild Bill knows him well, trusts him, and they stick as close together as twins."

"Yes, Captain Jack, I wish you'd take the rear and make those packers keep up. There must be no lagging. If a horse or mule fails they must be left. I'll keep the advance going."

Thus the Black Hillers swept on at a gallop, knowing that a merciless fate was theirs if overtaken by the Sioux.

CHAPTER XVI. THE PURSUIT.

The young Texan had not dreamed of being followed so soon by Persimmon Bill and his Indians, and he had lain down to sleep as honestly and confidently as Willie Pond, when he dropped down by the saddles and pack.

He was aroused by a touch on his shoulder, when he awoke and was surprised to find Bill and Addie Neidic standing by his side.

"Where are your Indians?" was the first question the Texan asked, as Bill whispered, in a low tone:

"I am here. I have followed the trail a little sooner than I thought I would. The Indians are in the ravine waiting for my signal to come in and let their horses feed and rest before we attack. Where is your friend?" continued Bill.

"Sound asleep under that tree up there. He sleeps like a log, and will not wake till I shake him up. I never saw such a sleeper. Yesterday he spent most of the day snoring."

"It is well. There is no use of alarming him before we are ready for work. I will give the signal, and let my warriors file in."

The outlaw waved a blanket in the air, and the Indians silently filed into the valley. At another signal they turned their horses loose to graze, and then gathered in groups out on the plain to take food and rest themselves while their leader conversed with the Texan, whom having seen before, they knew as his friend.

Meantime, the Texan motioning Addie Neidic and her lover to take seats on his blanket, conversed with the latter in a low tone on the plan of attack.

"I shall not make it until just as day dawns—for two reasons," said the outlaw. "First, then they will keep the most careless guard; second, when light is coming, we can see how to kill, and how to save the two whose lives are to be spared. We will do the work in a hurry when it is done. I have given my warriors their orders; most of them know Wild Bill and Captain Jack, for both have been on the reservations often when they have been in. For these reds can go where I cannot, and get arms and ammunition where I would not dare apply for them."

"Shall I not make you and Addie some coffee?" asked the Texan. "I can do it without danger, for I have a small alcohol lamp in my pack, which I had to keep for use when I could not get fuel.

"It will be refreshing, indeed, if there is no risk in making it," said Addie Neidic.

"There is none, and I will soon have it made," was the reply. Shaded from even Indian observation by the blanket he raised on some bushes, the young Texan speedily made a quart cupful of strong coffee, and shared it between the lady and her outlaw lover. It and some cooked meat he had gave them strength, and then all three lay down like the others to rest for an hour or two, the outlaw bidding one of his warriors keep watch, and to wake him when the morning star was seen over the trees in the east.

And little dreaming that their intended victims were far away from their camp, the Indians and their leader took rest preparation to their deadly work.

When his warrior sentinel awoke him, Persimmon Bill found that the morning star was well up, and it was full time to be moving toward the scene of action.

"You will stay here in the valley, dear Addie, till we come back," he said. "We will steal away quietly, and not wake that sleeping stranger if it can be helped, for he might, in his terror, fire his gun, or in some way give an alarm. Should he wake, hearing firing over there, keep him quiet with persuasion or your revolver until we return, and then if he is obstreperous, I will quiet him."

"Let me go with you, Bill," she said. "I am not afraid."

"It must not be, dear Addie, There is no need of your being exposed there, and it is well to have him watched here. Our main certainty of complete success is in a surprise. The least alarm may prevent it."

"I will remain then," she said. "And you need not fear for any alarm from him—for I know I can keep him quiet should he wake. I have a keen persuader here, if I have to use it."

And she touched a poniard in her belt, which also contained two good revolvers.

"An outlaw's bride," she added, smiling, "must be prepared to take care of herself."

The Indians now began silently to form their march, as they saw their white leader mount, and the young Texan also get his horse. The Black Hawk seemed uneasy that his master was not at hand, and the Texan was obliged to tie him by the side of the horse ridden by Addie Neidic before he would be quiet.

"It is strange that Mr. Pond does not wake with all this noise," said the Texan, as he rode off with Persimmon Bill. "But as I told you, he is the soundest sleeper I ever traveled with."

The Indians now filed away out of the valley as silently as they entered it, for, knowing the close vicinity of the other camp, they were aware how necessary it was to be cautious.

And now Addie Neidic stood alone, while the morning star rose higher and higher, gazing at what she supposed was the sleeping man on the knoll.

The moon had got so far around that she could see his hat, the rifle against the tree, and the outlines of his form, as she believed.

"I will move up and secure his rifle," she thought, after the band had been gone some time. "He might wake; and in his first alarm use it foolishly."

So she moved with a noiseless step within reach of the gun, and the next moment it was in her possession. Then she looked down, to see if he showed signs of waking. To her surprise, she saw no motions of a breathing form under the blanket. A closer look told her that if a form had been beneath the blanket, or a head under that hat, it was gone. And, feeling with her hand under the blanket, she, found it cold; no warm living form had been there for hours.

"He has been alarmed, seen us, and crept away—perhaps is hiding in terror in the brush," she muttered.

She did not even then realize that he might have fled away to alarm the other camp. She did not even understand several shrill yells, which reached her ear from over the hill. She had not been with the Sioux long enough to know their cries. These yells were the signal cries of scouts sent in, who had found a deserted camp. She only wondered, after hearing the yells, that she did not hear firing—the sounds of battle raging.

While she yet wondered, day dawned, finding her standing there by the empty blanket of Willie Pond, holding his rifle, and looking up the hill to see if he would not creep out, now that light had come and the Indians had gone.

A shrill neigh from the black horse called her attention toward the animal, and she saw the Texan riding into the valley on a keen run.

"Where is Bill?" she asked, as she ran to meet the rider, with Pond's blanket, hat, and rifle in her hand.

"Gone at full speed with his warriors on the trail of the Black Hillers, who have been alarmed in some way, and, have got at least two hours start. He sent me back to bring you and Pond along."

"Here is all of Mr. Pond that can be found," said Addie, holding up what she had found. "I went to the nest, the bird had flown, and the nest was cold."

The Texan rode quickly to the spot, and in a moment saw the trail over the ridge made by Pond when he had escaped.

"It was he who gave the alarm—him whom I believed so sleepy!" he muttered. "He must have seen Bill and the Indians when they first came, arranged his blanket and hat as you found it, and crept over the hill. When I cautioned him to keep quiet, I told him how near and in what direction they were. I see it all. Green as I took him to be, he has outwitted us all!"

"It is so. This is his horse—a noble animal, too. We will take that with us."

"Of course; and we must hurry on, for Bill is miles on the trail already. He will be even more surprised than we when he knows how the Black Hillers got warning. I'll not give much for Mr. Pond's hair," said the Texan.

In a few seconds the horse which Addie had ridden was saddled and ready, and, leaving his pack-horse behind, but leading the Black Hawk, the young Texan, with Addie Neidic by his side, dashed at full speed over the valley, and out of the ravine.

Once out on the open plain, they could see far away to the west a cloud of dust. It was made by the Sioux under the White Elk, who were pushing the horses to their wildest speed on the trail of the fugitives. This trail the Texan and Addie Neidic followed at their utmost speed.

The double trail made by the Black Hillers and the pursuing Indians would have been plain indeed to follow had not the column of dust served as a guide.

With their horses at full speed, and better than the general run of Indian ponies, the Texan and his fair companion gained slowly but surely on the Indians, and within an hour had passed the rear of their column, and were pressing well to the front.

Yet it was noon when they ranged alongside of Persimmon Bill himself, and reported the discovery Addie Neidic had made.

"One more scalp ahead of us," was all he said, when he heard the report.

And he pressed on still faster.

CHAPTER XVII. UNLOOKED-FOR AID.

With their heavily-laden pack-horses, lengthy as their start was, the party under Chichester saw their pursuers plainly in their rear before the day was two-thirds passed, and Captain Jack, hurrying up the rear all he could, sent word to Chichester that the reds were gaining rapidly.

Chichester sent word back to press the rear forward at its utmost speed. He could see timber ahead, and if they could only reach it, they might be able to make a stand. Satisfied, from the report of Willie Pond, that over one hundred well-armed and well-mounted Indians were on his trail, fearful that many of his men would flinch in battle, he dared not, with the few that were true, make a stand on the open plain.

Had all been like Wild Bill, California Joe, and Captain Jack, he would have halted, rested his horses, and given the reds battle rather than fly from even treble his number. But he knew well that a few cowards would weaken the rest, and he wanted to get some shelter before he met such odds.

The timber was yet fully two hours' ride distant, half of the pack-horses had given out and been left, and many of the mounted men complained that they could not keep their horses much longer in the column.

Sam Chichester had been obliged to slacken the pace in front, and the enemy were gaining so fast that the glitter of their arms, could be seen even and the dust-cloud that rose above them.

Suddenly another column of dust was seen, and this appeared to come from the direction of the timber, though south of the route the Black Hillers were taking.

"Men!" muttered Sam Chichester, "there's no use in our running much farther. If that new cloud of dust is made by Indian's, all that we can do is to sell our lives as dearly as we can. We will soon know one thing or the other."

"They're not on the line we're taking. They can't be coming for us," said Captain Jack, who had ridden to the front. "They're coming in our flank."

"And night is coming, too," growled California Joe. "If we can keep on for two hours more, we'll have darkness to shield us, for no red will fight in the dark without he attacks, and has camp-fires to light up with."

"We'll keep them, on while an animal will move, and when we must, turn and fight for life or vengeance, if we must go under," said Chichester. "Forward, men—forward once more!"

Again Captain Jack took the post of honor, for such indeed was the rear guard in this case. Suddenly, on looking back, he saw that the Indians, instead of gaining, had come to a halt.

"They've given it up! they've given it up!" he cried, sending a messenger forward to Captain Chichester to slacken the speed of the column.

It was now almost sundown, and the men in the column, choked and thirsty, weary beyond expression, could hardly believe the news was true. They were soon satisfied, though, that it was; but it was not for an hour yet, when twilight was beginning to gather, that they learned the real cause of their present safety.

The Indians would have been upon them before night set in, had they not first discovered the nature of the dust cloud to the south-west, or rather who it was raised by. The field-glass of the Texan, even miles and miles away, had detected the flutter of cavalry guidons amid the dust, and showed that mounted troops were near enough to come to the aid of the Black Hill men before they could be crushed and their scalps taken.

So, much against his will, Persimmon Bill was obliged to slacken his pace, and soon to turn his course, so, as by a night march, to put his warriors beyond the reach of those who might turn on them.

When night fell, Chichester, joined by two companies of cavalry, bound for the Hills, under orders to join forces already on the way by another route, moved slowly to a camping-ground in the timber, for which he had been heading hours back.

The horses of the troops were weak from scant forage, and the commanding officer did not feel it his duty to wear them out chasing Indians, though he held himself ready to protect the mining party as long as they remained with him.

And they were just too willing to go on with such an escort, even with the loss of all the pack animals left on their trail; and had Persimmon Bill only halted, instead of falling back, he would have found that there was no danger of pursuit.

Chichester and Crawford, when they compared notes, and found not a man of their party lost, though half its property was gone, felt satisfied that it was no worse, for at one time it seemed to both that nothing was left to them but to sell their lives as dearly as they could.

In a well-guarded camp all were settled before the moon rose, and never was rest more needed by animals and men.

CHAPTER XVIII. ON THE DEATH-TRAIL.

Bivouacked on the treeless plain, so far from the old trail and from the timber ahead that they could see no sign of the Black Hillers or the troops, the next morning's sun rose on the band of Sioux led by Persimmon Bill. Used to all kinds of exigencies, the red men did not mind either a lack of food or of water for so short a time. They were only angered with the thought that those whom they had deemed an easy prey had escaped them.

As soon as it was light, Persimmon Bill had the captured pack-horses examined, and it was found that several of them were laden with provisions. Others had ammunition and stores, and on some of them were found kegs of liquor.

These the wary leader at once destroyed, telling his followers that there was no foe so deadly to the red man as this fire-water and not one drop should pass his lips or theirs. The provisions were at once distributed among them, as also the stores, but the liquor was given to the thirsty sands, where at least it could do no harm.

Then a council was held by the leader with the chiefs and head warriors of the band, and it was decided that it would be foolish to pursue the Black Hill people farther, now that troops were with them, unless a large band of Sioux could be found. For it is not Indian policy to risk battle against odds, or where there is danger of great loss and little gain. To reach water and good hunting-grounds was their first necessity; after that they could consider where next to go. Sitting Bull was rallying all the tribes for war, and the "White Elk" had promised to join him.

Gloomily the young Texan heard all this talk, and at its close, when a decision had been arrived at, he said:

"Here we must part. I follow the trail of Wild Bill, if I follow it alone. I had hoped to see him die a slow and cruel death, where I could have heard him plead, and plead in vain for mercy. But that hope is gone, if he reaches the Hills in safety. But he cannot live—he shall not! I have sworn to kill him, and I will! The spirit of him who fell at Abilene cries up from a bloody grave for vengeance, and the cry shall be answered. You have been kind to me Addie Neidic, and so has he to whom your heart is given. I shall never forget it. But our courses now lie apart—I follow yonder trail, while you go I know not where. We may not meet again—if we do, I shall tell you Wild Bill is dead!"

"Stay with us. I will yet help you to your vengeance," said Persimmon Bill.

"No; it will be too long delayed. I am hot on the death-trail now, and I will not leave it. Fear not for me. I shall hover near them till they reach the Hills, and then I will not wait long to fulfill my work. When the deed is done, if I still think life is precious, and his friends press me too hard, I may look for safety, as you have done, with the Sioux."

"Come and you shall find in me a sister, and in him a brother," cried Addie Neidic.

"A brother? I had one once," came in a low, sobbing cry from the young Texan's lips; then, with his head bowed, and scalding tears rolling down his cheeks, he drove the spurs into his horse, and sped away swiftly in the direction of the old trail.

The Black Hawk horse, saddled and bridled, but riderless, galloped on by the side of the Texan's fleet mustang, with no wish to part from his company.

"He had death in his eye! He will kill Wild Bill, and we shall never see him again," said Persimmon Bill. "The miners are rough, and condemn before they try, and hang as soon as condemnation is spoken. I pity the boy—for he is but a boy."

Addie Neidic smiled.

"We shall see your boy again," she said, "Something seems to whisper to me that his fate is in some way linked with ours. I, too, feel sure that he will kill Wild Bill, and then escape to join us. And you, my hero, will rise till all these Indian nations call you king. How these who follow you look up to you now, obeying every word or sign. And think, on these vast plains, and in the endless range of hills, valleys, and mountains, there must be countless thousands, who want but a daring, skillful leader to make them the best light troops in the world."

"You are ambitions for me, dearest," said Bill, with a strange, sad smile. "I hope to prove worthy of your aspirations. But we must move. I head now for the Big Horn Valley, to meet Sitting Bull."

CHAPTER XIX. "SAVE, OH, SAVE MY HUSBAND!"

"Safe and in port at last, as old Cale Durg used to say, when a scout was over and he was back in garrison."

This was the joyous exclamation of Captain Jack Crawford, as he turned to Sam Chichester when their party rode into the settlement at the Deadwood Mines in the Black Hills. Escorted nearly all the way by the cavalry they had so providentially met, they had been troubled no more by the Indians, and excepting the loss of some horses, and part of their "fit-out" and stores, had suffered nothing. Not a man had been hurt, and best of all, they came in sober, for the benzine had all gone with the lost packs, for it was heaviest on the mules, as it would have been on the men, had it not been host.

"I'm glad the trip is over. My temper never has been more tried," said Chichester. "The most of the men have had their own way, though when we started they promised on honor to obey me as captain. But honor is a scarce article with the majority of them. Now they're here, they'll go it with a looseness."

"You bet," was Crawford's sententious remark. "Wild Bill will be in his element. Look at the signs. Rum, faro, monte, all have a swing here, you can swear."

"Men, into line one minute, and then we part!" shouted Captain Chichester to his party.

For a wonder, with temptation on every side, the weary riders obeyed, and drew up in a straggling line to hear their leader's parting speech.

"Men, I promised to bring you here safely if I could, but to get all of you here that I could, any way. I've kept my promise we're here."

"Ay! Three cheers for Sam Chichester!" shouted Wild Bill.

The cheers were given, and Chichester said:

"Thank you, boys. Now do me one favor. You are here in a busy place, and I see by the sign that benzine is about as plenty as water. Touch it light, and do behave, yourselves, that my name will not be disgraced by any of Sam Chichester's crowd. Every man is his own master now, and must look out for himself. I wish you all good luck, and shall work hard for it myself."

The speech was over, and in a second the line melted away and every man was seeking quarters or pitching into the benzine shops.

Wild Bill would have been the first to go there, had not his companion, Willie Pond, said, in a low tone:

"Bill, please get quarters for you and me before you do anything else. You know what you have promised. Remember, if it had not been for me, neither you nor one of this party would ever have got here."

"You're right. But I'm so cussed dry!" muttered Bill. "You're right, I'll find housing for us two before a drop passes my lips."

And Bill rode on to the upper part of the town, as it might be called, where some men were putting up a new shanty, in fact, just putting the finishing touch on it by hanging a door.

"Will you sell that shebang?" asked Bill, of the man who seemed to be the head workman.

"Yes, if we get enough. We can build another. What will you give?"

"These two horses, and a century," said Bill, pointing to the animals ridden by himself and companion, and holding up a hundred-dollar bill which Pond had furnished him.

"O. K. The house is yours!" said the man. "Boys, put for timber, and we'll have another up by sunset."

Bill and his companion dismounted, removed their blankets, arms, and saddle-bags into the house, gave up the horses and were at home. It did not take long to settle there.

* * * * * * * *

Night had fallen on the town of Deadwood, but not the calm which generally comes with night where the laborer is but too glad to greet the hour of rest. Lights flashing through chinks in rude cabins, lights shimmering through canvas walls, songs, shouts, laughter, curses, and drunken yells made the place seem like a pandemonium on earth.

Almost every other structure, either tent, cabin, or more pretentious framed house, was either a saloon or gambling-hell, or both combined. And all these seemed full. The gulches, sinks, and claims that had been the scene of busy labor all the day were now deserted, and the gold just wrenched from the bowels of the earth was scattered on the gambling table, or poured into the drawer of the busy rumseller.

At this same hour, a man rode into the edge of the town on a noble black horse, leading a tired mustang. Both of these animals he staked out in a patch of grass, leaving the saddles on, and the bridles hanging to the saddle-bow of each. Then he placed his rifle against a tree near by, took the old cartridges out of a six-shooter and put in fresh ones. This done with the greatest deliberation, he pulled his slouch hat well over his face, entered the nearest saloon, threw down a silver dollar, and called for brandy.

A bottle and glass were set before him. He filled the glass to the brim, drank it off, and walked out.

"Here, you red-haired cuss, here!" cried the bar-keeper. "Here's a half comin' to you; we only charge half-price when it goes by wholesale!"

The joke fell useless, for the red-haired man had not remained to hear it.

In the largest hall in the place, a heavy gambling game was going on. There was roulette, faro, and monte, all at different points.

Before the faro-table there was the greatest gathering.

Wild Bill, furnished with money by the person known to us so far as Willie Pond, was "bucking against the bank" with, his usual wonderful luck, and the crowd centered around him as a character more noted and better known than any other who had yet come to Deadwood.

"I'll bet my whole pile on the jack!" shouted Wild Bill, who had taken enough strong drink to fit him for anything.

"Do be careful, Bill—do be careful!" said a low, kind voice just behind him.

It was that of Willie Pond.

"Oh, go home and mind your business. I'll break this bank to-night, or die in the trial!" cried Bill, defiantly.

"You'll die before you break it!" shrieked out a shrill, sharp voice, and the red-haired Texan sprang forward with an uplifted bowie-knife, and lunged with deadly aim at Bill's heart, even as the person we have so long known as Willie Pond shrieked out:

"Save, oh, save my husband!"

But another hand clutched the hilt of the descending knife and the hand of a short, thickset, beetle-browed desperado, was shouted, as he drew a pistol with his other hand:

"Wild Bill is my game. No one living shall cheat me of my revenge! Look at this scar, Bill—you marked me for life and now I mark you for death!"

And even as he spoke, the man fired, and a death-shot pierced Wild Bill's heart.

The latter, who had risen to his feet, staggered toward the Texan, who struggled to free his knife-hand from the clutch of the real assassin, and with a wild laugh, tore the false hair from the Texan's head. As a roll of woman's hair came down in a flood of beauty over her shoulders, Bill gasped out:

"Jack McCall, I'm thankful to you, even though you've killed me. Wild Bill does not die by the hand of a woman!"

A shudder, and all was over, so far as Wild Bill's life went.

His real and true wife wept in silence over his body, while sullen, and for a time silent, the supposed Texan stood and gazed at the dead body.

Then she spoke, addressing McCall:

"Villain, you have robbed me of my revenge! for by my hand should that man have fallen. No wrong he could have done you can be more bitter than that which put me on his death-trail, and made me swear to take his life.

"Two years ago a young man left a ranch close to the Rio Grande border with a thousand head of cattle, which had been bought from him, to be paid for when delivered in Abilene, Kansas. He was noble, brave, handsome. He was good and true in all things. He was the only hope of a widowed mother, the very idol of a loving sister, whose life seemed linked with his. He promised when he left those he loved and who so loved him that he would hasten back with the proceeds of the sale, and then, with his mother and sister, he would return to the birthplace of the three, to the old Northern homestead, where his father's remains were buried, buy the old estate, and settle down to a quiet and a happy life. Long, anxiously, and prayerfully did that mother and sister wait for his return. Did he come? No; but the soul-blighting news came, which, like a thunderbolt, struck that mother—my mother—dead! Wild and despairing, I heard it—heard this.

"The son, the brother, who never used a drop of strong drink in all his life; who never uttered an oath, or raised a hand in unkindness to man or woman, had been murdered—killed without provocation—no chance to defend his life, no warning to prepare for another world—shot down in mere wantonness. There lies the body of him who did it. Do you wonder that, over my dead mother's body, girl though I was, I swore to follow to the death him who killed my brother? It is not my fault that I have not kept my oath. I would have done it had I known that you, his friends, would have torn me limb from limb before his body was cold."

"And served him right!" said an old miner, whose eyes were dimmed with moisture while the Texan girl told her story.

"Where is McCall? His act was murder," cried Sam Chichester.

"He has sloped, but I'll take his trail, and if there is law in Montana he shall hang," said California Joe, who bounded from the house, when it was discovered that the murderer had slipped away in the moment of excitement.

How well California Joe kept his promise, history has already recorded. Followed over many a weary mile of hill and prairie, McCall was finally arrested, tried and convicted, as well by his own boast as the evidence of others, and he was hanged.

But one glance at our heroine, for such the red-haired Texan is.

With a look of haughty defiance, she asked:

"Have I done aught that requires my detention here?"

"No," said Captain Jack; "thank Heaven you have not. We'd make a poor fist at trying a woman by Lynch law, if you had done what you meant to."

"Then I go, and few will be the white faces I ever see again!" she cried.

The next moment she passed out, and as the crowd followed to see whither she went, she was seen to spring on a coal-black horse which stood unhitched before the door, and on it she rode at wild speed away toward the north-west, while a saddled but unridden mustang followed close behind her.

The course she took led toward the regions where Sitting Bull, in force, awaited the attack of the soldiers then on his trail.

[THE END.]

"DIAMOND DICK, JR'S TRUNK CHECK; or, THE MAN IN THE SILVER MASK," by W. B, Lawson will be published in the next number (193) of the DIAMOND DICK LIBRARY.