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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e2a961 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69408 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69408) diff --git a/old/69408-0.txt b/old/69408-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index bdcf70a..0000000 --- a/old/69408-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5319 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The shoemaker, by Olive Harper - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The shoemaker - A powerful picture of nature, adapted from Hal Reid’s famous - drama of the same name - -Author: Olive Harper - -Contributor: Hal Reid - -Release Date: November 22, 2022 [eBook #69408] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Demian Katz, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Images courtesy - of the Digital Library@Villanova University.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHOEMAKER *** - - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_), and text -enclosed by equal signs is in bold (=bold=). - -Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end. - - * * * * * - -Price 25 Cents. - -The SHOEMAKER - -A STORY BASED ON HAL REID’S PLAY OF THE SAME NAME. - -BY OLIVE HARPER. - -[Illustration: MORRIS GOLDBERG, THE SHOEMAKER.] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: “I’M WILD BILL, THE BULL MAN.”] - - * * * * * - - - - -THE SHOEMAKER. - - - A Powerful Picture of Nature, Adapted - From Hal Reid’s Famous Drama - Of the Same Name. - - BY - OLIVE HARPER, - - Author of “The Sociable Ghost,” “Letters From an American - Countess,” “A Desperate Chance,” “The Show Girl,” “When - We Were Twenty-One,” “A Daughter of the South,” - “Bertha, the Sewing Machine Girl,” Etc. - - COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY - J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY. - - NEW YORK: - J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, - 57 ROSE STREET. - - * * * * * - -THE SHOEMAKER - - - - -PROLOGUE. - - -In one of the small side streets that end in the Bowery, on the East -Side, is a row of small and dilapidated buildings, which once, in the -early days of New York, were the dwellings of fashionable people, but -which are now occupied by poor but industrious people. The majority -of these houses have some small business carried on in the basement -cellars. - -The people who occupy the houses above the cellar stores or workshops -are mostly of the poor but industrious Hebrews who toil early and late -to build up a little business in this land of freedom, a business which -is really and truly their own, to have and to hold without persecution -or robbery. - -The house where Morris Goldberg had found a shelter and a chance -to show of what stuff he was made was, if possible, a little more -disreputable in appearance than the others in that row, but to him, who -had gone through the horrors of the Kishineff massacre, robbed of his -all, save his wife and little daughter, it seemed a peaceful haven of -delight. - -The little destitute family had been assisted to start, in this humble -location, by the noble and practical Benevolent Society of the Hebrews -in New York, and, though a cellar whose only light came through grated -windows or the opened cellar-doors, this seemed to him a palace. Was -he not free from persecution? His good wife and little daughter and -he were free, free. One must have been a Jew in Russia to know what -freedom means. - -Morris Goldberg was a shoemaker and plied his humble calling with such -patient industry, and such thrift, that after a year of struggle he had -proudly paid back the money loaned him, and then he moved his wife and -daughter to the back room on the floor above, while he pegged and sewed -and smoked and sang at his work. - -The daughter grew into a beautiful womanhood, with all the rich -coloring of her race, with snowy teeth, thick waving black hair, and -beautiful large dark eyes. - -She was the loveliest girl in all the neighborhood, with a dainty, -graceful figure and a gay, merry soul. Words could not tell how she -loved her father; for, after a few years of peace and joy in this land, -the mother, who had never recovered from the horrors through which she -had passed, died. Her last hours were so sweetly peaceful that the loss -to those left behind was more of a chastened sorrow than a poignant -grief. - -Dora was now sixteen, and matured like the maidens of her race. - -The father loved Dora with a brooding tenderness almost womanlike in -its intensity, and her little hands held his very heart in their grasp. -Nothing she did seemed wrong to him, and everything she wanted, that -was in his power to give, she had. - -Above all, he was proud of her education, for that had been his first -desire. Dora was kept in school when other girls of her age had worked -in factories. She kept house for him in the room above the shop, and -she was a good, sweet, obedient daughter. What more could a man ask? A -business that kept them from want, and something left over every month. -No wonder the honest shoemaker sang as he worked in his little shop as -he listened to the steps of his daughter above. - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -This brief preamble brings the reader to the day and hour when the -first movements in this moving human drama began. - -Morris Goldberg had left his humble store in charge of Dora and a -little semi-idiotic boy, whom he had rescued from the streets. The -little fellow was thin and white, and dressed in a medley of garments -purchased for him from a second-hand store nearby. The child was trying -to sew a shoe while seated upon the vacant bench. Dora sat beside him, -trying to guide the clumsy fingers, with infinite patience. - -“Now, this way, Loney; both ends at the same time. One this way and -one that way. Oh, you will succeed if you keep on. You’ll be as good a -shoemaker as father some day.” - -“I’m trying, Dora. I try so hard, but my hands won’t mind me. I’m just -no good at all.” - -This the child said with such an expression of utter discouragement -that Dora put her plump arm around the little figure, saying: - -“Oh, yes you are, Loney. You do lots of things, and you are splendid -for errands.” - -“Anybody can run errands; but I want to be something else than an -errand-boy. I want to know how to do other things--how to be something -in the world, but my head won’t let me. It gets all ‘hurty’ when I try -to think what I want to do.” - -“Poor little Loney! Tell me how you got hurt, Loney? You have never -told me that. Can’t you tell me now? Maybe the doctor could cure it if -we knew how it happened. Try to remember.” - -The poor, thin little hand went to his head uncertainly, while Loney -knitted his brows trying to remember. Then he said; dreamily: - -“Sometimes I can think it out right, and sometimes I can’t. I remember -I had a mother once--pretty, like you--but different. She had light -hair and such nice blue eyes. She was awful pretty. And I had a father, -too; and he was big and handsome. We used to ride in a carriage. -Sometimes I can remember the big Park, and all the people walking -around and in carriages, and then I forget. Then I remember that my -father quarreled a lot with my mother and she cried lots, and one -day he was going to hit her, and I ran between them and he struck me -instead. Then something fell out of my head that they remember with. I -guess it was when the blood ran so. Don’t you think so?” - -“Poor boy! Poor little Loney!” said Dora, while great tears ran down -her rosy cheeks and fell on the bright curls of the little waif. He -continued, after a short silence: - -“The next I remember, I was in a place where there were lots of -children. I was there a long time. Then I wanted my mother so bad -that I ran away. They searched for me and nearly found me, but I hid -in a box, and one of the men said, ‘Let him go. He hasn’t any sense, -anyway.’” - -The little fellow broke down and sobbed pitifully, while Dora said: - -“Don’t cry, Loney. Don’t cry. We will take good care of you.” - -“And then I sold papers and half-starved. The other boys kicked me -around a lot and made fun of me ’cause I couldn’t remember. And they -named me Loney, and then I came here; and your father lets me run -errands--and--that’s all.” - -“Don’t you worry, Loney. You know what my father says, that when -business picks up a little he will take you to the good doctor and see -if you can’t be cured, so you will remember.” - -“That’s hard for me to think out, Dora.” - -“Why hard? What do you mean?” - -“I am nothing to your father. He is poor, and it seems so funny, for he -is--is----” - -“A Jew. Say it, Loney. Don’t be afraid. A Jew can be a good man, -an honest one, a good father, and a good citizen. He loves me, his -daughter, and he has a heart--a big one--for all in need. He has pity -for them. You are mistaken if you think differently. I have seen him -divide his last crust with the hungry--yes, and give them the largest -share. Oh, Loney, my father is good.” - -“You are right. He has divided with me; and, Dora, some day God will -bless him for it.” - -At that moment there were steps heard on the rickety cellar-steps, and -in another moment a young man--scarcely more than a boy--came to the -door. He was a typical “Bowery tough,” made so by his life in this -part of the city, with its most unsavory reputation. He wore a faded -corduroy cap, set at an aggressive angle on his frowsy head, and for -the rest of his costume he wore a blue flannel shirt, open at the -throat, and corduroy pantaloons. His shoes looked as though in urgent -need of the services of the shoemaker. His face was dirty, and one -of his eyes was blackened and swollen. And, over it all, there showed -something so depraved and sinister, such a drawn look of pallor and -decay, in spite of his youth, a stranger would not have known how to -classify this strange output of city life, but the initiated would -have summed it all up in one word--dope. This means the unutterable -depravity of opium-smoking. In fact, he was generally known in his -haunts as Dopey. - -As he stood on the floor of the shop, Dopey said, in a hoarse voice: - -“Hello, Sis. Where’s de main squeeze?” - -“Where is what?” - -“Why, his gazootses; de motza crusher--de man wit’ de birt’mark o’ -t’ree balls on his skull-front--de boss, if I must say it.” - -“Do you mean my father?” - -“I guess so. Where is ’e?” - -“He went out to deliver a pair of shoes he has finished and to bring -back some to be mended.” - -“Why, soy, go find ’im. I got a job fer ’im. Dey’s a couple of swell -guys up de street dat needs his ’sisterence. De he guy say dat he’ll -stake me ter a dollar. De moll kicked de heel off her Louie Fourteent’ -an’ wants it nailed on. Dat dollar means de hop-joint if I get it, an’ -to de bat-house if I don’t. Why, soy, dere’s nuttin’ to it.” - -“I’ll go and find him,” said Loney, in his childish voice. He somewhat -understood this Bowery slang better than Dora. - -“Dat’s de trick. Be sure ye does, for if I misses dis I kin see de -brassy cop on dis beat pullin’ de hook fer de ambylants, an’ me -t’rowin’ a fit in de suds-tub at de croak-joint--de horspittle. Hully -gee! mosey, kid. Shake yer skates.” - -These last words were accompanied by so suggestive a movement that -Loney sprang lightly up the steps and disappeared in search of Mr. -Goldberg. As the child disappeared, he shouted: - -“Hop! Go! Git!” Then, turning to Dora, he said: “Dat’s de racket. Your -old man’ll git more coin for dis job dan he ever seen afore.” - -“I’ll be glad,” replied Dora, half-afraid of this strange-looking -creature, “for business has been very poor lately.” - -There was a darkening of the cellar-door, and Dora raised her eyes to -see a tall, dark, handsome and well-dressed man assisting a lady down -the steps. She was a handsome and very stylishly dressed woman--large -and with a most unwomanly expression on her features. In short, it was -but too evident that she had been drinking and could scarcely maintain -her equilibrium. - -“Be careful, Muriel, or you’ll fall,” said the man, whose name was John -Pierson. “Why the deuce can’t you wear sensible shoes, anyway? You’ll -break your neck with those high heels yet!” - -As they reached the middle of the room, Muriel laughed idiotically and -mumbled something about him and accused him of trying to appear so -“su-su-perior, just because I kicked my heel off.” - -“So this is the place, eh?” asked Pierson of Dopey, looking about him -curiously at the same time. Dopey took on an air of great importance -and replied, huskily: - -“Dis is de j’int. It’s on de bum, all right, all right, but it’s de -nearest shoemaker dere is, but----” - -“Oh, that’s all right. Any old port in a storm, you know,” stammered -Muriel, and, as she saw Dora, she said: “Who you, m’ dear?” - -“Dora Goldberg, lady.” - -“And who is the other girl? Your sister?” - -“There is no one else here but me,” replied Dora, surprised at the -question. - -“That’s funny. I must be seeing double. Last bottle gone to my head. -Time to quit. All your fault, John Pierson--all your fault, not mine,” -muttered the woman, with a maudlin laugh, staggering at the same time -so that Dora thought she was falling. She hastened to bring a chair, -where the woman tried to seat herself with extreme gravity, while Dora -said: - -“Don’t thank me, lady. I’ll go and hurry father. Please have the -kindness to wait. I won’t be long.” - -Dora tripped lightly up the steps and to the street, while Muriel -settled herself into the chair and dozed almost at once. In the -meantime Pierson silently watched Dora disappear, and then, turning to -Dopey, said, in a low voice: - -“You are right. She is both young and beautiful.” - -“Yes, cull, and poor; jes’ as poor as a choich mouse. Show her some -shines--dimints, I mean. Tell her about de glad rags, de nags and de -chariot--and, soy, dere’s nuttin’ to it!” - -“Hush! Not so loud,” replied Pierson, looking toward Muriel, which -caused him to speak in a much lower tone as he gave his very -unfavorable opinion of the intoxicated woman, comparing her to a bunch -of wildcats. Suddenly Muriel roused and began to sing, in a drowsy -voice, the words of a drinking-song. Pierson rudely ordered her to -“shut up,” which had no other effect than to make the woman repeat her -song in a louder voice. - -“Oh, I say, for heaven’s sake, keep still! Of all the disgusting things -on earth, a drunken woman is the worst,” said Pierson angrily, while he -stamped his foot in rage. - -“Ah!” said she, acridly, “and how about a drunken man? Is there such a -wide difference?” - -“I never took a drink in my life and you know it, Muriel Hamilton.” - -“Well, I don’t count you a man. You are a beast, you are!” - -“Thanks, awfully,” replied he, bowing scornfully. - -Muriel tried to rise and bow, but fell back in the chair with a silly -laugh. “Oh, you are welcome. Gee! I nearly fell off my perch. Steady, -birdie, steady!” - -Pierson strode back and forth in the little place, finally stopping -before the woman, saying: - -“You may as well understand this, now, Muriel. I am sick and tired -of the way you are going on. I know I’ve done some things that would -not stand the light of day exactly, but I never drank. I’ve committed -some crimes, but drunkenness has never been one of them, and I hate -liquor. I tell you this, right now: you’ve got to sober up and stop -drinking--or--I’ll quit you cold.” - -At this open threat, Muriel sat up straight and looked at the man -half-defiant, half-scared. He maintained his coldly resolute look, -while she scanned his face, and then half-laughed: - -“By heaven! I believe you mean it. Just you try it on, Jack Pierson. -Just you try it on, that’s all!” - -“I’ll take a stroll. I needs de fresh air. It’s de sidewalk fer mine,” -said Dopey, uneasily. He had seen too many drunken fights to wish to -see another, especially with a powerful woman like Muriel. But Jack -went to him and muttered: - -“You stay here. I’ll have it out with her here and now. I want to make -room for the other one.” - -“Ah,” said Muriel, as she rose almost steadily and advanced, “any -secrets that I cannot know?” - -“No, there is not. I was just telling him that I am sick of your -constant sprees and temper. That’s all, and I mean it.” - -“Ah,” said Muriel, advancing and with a dangerous light in her eyes, -“and, I suppose, you meant it when you deserted your honest wife for -me, and when you struck your child, and killed him, for all you know. -Yes, you must have meant both those things; as you never took a drink -in your life, you had not even the excuse of drunkenness. Mine was a -new face then, and now that the liquor that you gave me to gain your -ends has got the best of me, you’ll quit me cold, will you? Then, let -me tell you, when you do it will be cold for you, for you will be dead!” - -“’Scuse me, cull, I hear me mudder callin’ me, an’ I has to go,” said -Dopey. - -“Go to the devil, if you want to,” replied Pierson angrily. - -“Dat’s jes’ where I don’t want to go. Her jigs is up to de boilin’ -point, an’ all dem sharp shoe-knives lyin’ dere. See me eye. She put -dis on it last night. One’s enough fer me.” - -“Now, Dopey, I’m sorry I hit you, honest I am. Say, Jack, you don’t -know what sent me on this spree, do you?” said Muriel. - -“I don’t know and I don’t care,” replied Jack coldly. “There is no -excuse for it.” - -“Yes, there is, I saw your forsaken, heart-broken wife slinking along -in the street--a wreck, a ragged, gin-soaked wreck--and I couldn’t -help remembering what she was when we robbed her, you and me. She was -honest and true, and, as I looked at her, the sight sickened me, body -and soul. I drank to forget it.” - -“Why do you mention her to me. I have never seen her since, and never -want to.” - -“Nor the boy, either? Poor little half-witted fellow. Give me credit -for one thing--I wanted to keep him and care for him, but, no, you -robbed his mother of him and put him in the asylum. These things haunt -me, Jack. Even drink will not blot them out.” - -“Rot! That’s nothing but the drink. My ex-wife should have stayed in -the West. She was so pretty and pure and honest that she actually led -me to marry her. I hated her for that from the first.” - -“Yours is coming to you, Jack, and you’ll get it good and plenty if -ever her brother sets eyes on you. Those cowboys know how to shoot,” -laughed Muriel meaningly. - -“Don’t try to frighten me. William Hunter, or ‘Cactus Bill’ Hunter, -as they called him, is dead. I had a letter telling me that he has -disappeared, so I’m not afraid.” - -“Maybe--and maybe not. But, if ever you two do meet, you’d better get -your gun-play in first. So, then,” she continued, in a softer tone, -“you want to quit your old pal? And just after my being up all night -on the Bowery, helping you fleece this ‘come on.’ Not much gratitude!” - -“Ah, forget it,” said Pierson roughly, changing his tone and manner -suddenly, as he saw Dora returning with Loney. The young girl hastened -down the steps, flushed and rosy with her hurried search. - -“My father is coming. I hope we did not keep you waiting too long.” - -Muriel had sat down again in the chair, and her head had fallen forward -drowsily, while John, with a side look at Muriel, said to Dora: - -“No, my little dear, I am repaid for the long wait by seeing you again. -Don’t you ever get tired of this musty old cellar? Wouldn’t you like -to live in a fine house, with servants to wait upon you, and have -beautiful diamonds and clothes to wear?” - -“Oh no, sir! I would not leave papa and Bennie for all the fine houses -and jewels in the world. And, besides, we don’t _live_ in the cellar. -We only work here. We live upstairs.” - -While this little conversation was taking place, Muriel had roused -again, but this time her eyes were fastened upon little Loney, who had -begun to wax some threads for the shoemaker. This was a task that he -delighted in doing. He had been told that it was a great help to the -kind old man. Muriel, after staring at the child, asked what his name -was. The little fellow looked at her in a vague manner as he said: - -“Loney, lady. Just Loney. That’s all the name I know.” - -As the pretty, though vague, eyes were raised to hers, Muriel gave a -start, saying to herself: - -“Those eyes! That look in them. It is he without a doubt.” - -The hardened woman gave a deep sob which, with Dora’s calm refusal of -all he offered her, made John angry, and he said, roughly shaking her -at the same time: - -“What’s the matter with you, you idiot?” - -“Nothing,” replied she, “only my sins are finding me out. That is all.” - -Further conversation was checked by the arrival of Morris Goldberg, who -came quietly down the cellar-steps to his shop. - -The old man wore his leather apron, and had his sleeves rolled to his -elbows, thus showing a pair of brawny arms and toil-roughened hands. -In one of them he carried a pair of old shoes to be mended. With -unconscious dignity the old man advanced toward his customers, and -when Dora asked, impetuously, what had kept him so long, he told her -quietly that there was more bad news from Russia, from Odessa this -time, where the unfortunate Jews were being butchered and driven like -noxious beasts before the terrible Cossacks. - -“And I must stop to say somedings to ’courage Jake Rosenblum. He’s old -fader and moder are in Odessa.” - -Then, turning to Jack Pierson, he said: - -“Good-morning, sir. Can I do somedings for you?” - -“Are you the shoemaker?” asked John. - -“Am I a shoemaker? Am _I_ a shoemaker? Vell, I shust say I vos a -shoemaker. And I can make a pair of shoes vile you vait, if you vait -long enough. Say, who are you?” - -“It’s none of your business. This lady here has knocked the heel of -her shoe off, and she wants you to put it on. That’s enough for you to -know; so get busy.” - -“All right, all right,” said the old man, taking his seat on the bench -and preparing for his work. - -Dopey took a stool and sat down facing the old man, putting his own -foot, encased in a very dilapidated shoe, almost in the old man’s -face, at the same time leering at the old man very unpleasantly, who -said: - -“Oie, oie! Vot a face. You looks like a pull-dog. Vat you vant. A patch -for de plack eye--eh?” - -“Never mind me mug,” said Dopey, insolently, “nor me lamp. What’ll it -cost me to get me skates fixed?--dey’s in a bad way.” - -“Vell, you pring me a pair of soles, unt I’ll put some uppers on dem.” - -“Muriel,” said John, “stay here as long as you like. I am going out -to get a bite to eat, and, when you are through, come up to Lyons’ -restaurant or go home. I don’t care which.” - -“All right, darling. I suppose I shall be able to survive your absence.” - -“Come on, Dopey. I suppose you want your dollar,” said Pierson, who had -his idea in wishing to get Dopey outside. - -“I’m ready. I’se dead hungry for a bullet,” said Dopey, a gleam of -anticipation in his glassy eyes. - -Morris Goldberg said to himself, “He must be one of dem suiciders. Vat -for kind of talk is dot apout a bullet?” - -John and Dopey left the place, and as soon as they were outside, John -said to Dopey, nodding his head toward Dora: - -“She is all you said, and more. Help me to land her, and you’ll never -know what it means to go hungry for opium again.” - -They then walked along out of sight of the humble shoemaker’s shop. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -Morris Goldberg, by this time, was ready to wait upon Muriel, who -seemed to be slowly overcoming the effects of the drink she had taken. -And, in a few moments, the shoemaker had fixed the price at twenty -cents for the work he was to do. - -Morris took the dainty shoe and went to work at it, blind to the -blandishments that come so natural to a woman of her class--so natural -that they are tried upon every man whosoever he may be. - -Dora took Loney upstairs, to give him something to eat, and -incidentally to add a few touches to her toilet, for was not Bennie -coming? Bennie, whom Dora loved next to her father, and somewhat more -than Loney; Bennie, the bright, clever and industrious young man whose -heart was fixed upon the pretty Dora. - -Muriel suddenly turned in her chair so as to face the shoemaker, who -was busily at work, and said, in a strident voice: - -“Say, do you know, I like you?” - -The man before her was so surprised by this remark that he let his work -fall and looked at her, but she had turned her head, and asked: - -“Say, do you know why I like you?” - -The man hastily reflected that it could not be for his money, and a dim -idea dawned upon him that he must be a rather nice-looking man, and--he -simpered a little as he sheepishly replied: - -“Sure, I know. I am not so bad-looking yet.” - -“No, not that; but it is because you are living here in this -God-forsaken cellar that isn’t fit for rats, living from hand to mouth, -and yet you take in and feed that half-witted boy that you told your -daughter to give some gonsalabus, whatever that is. It must be good, -though, for I saw the little chap’s look of pleasure. That’s why.” - -“Vot de poy get? Yust a place to sleep, someding to eat unt run -errants. He don’t cost much, led him stay. I am from a family who will -always help dose who neet it. Our mutter raised us dat vay.” - -Muriel looked at the shoemaker with sincere and open admiration while -she said: - -“I guess it’s you all right. Those things must be in the heart, or they -wouldn’t come out.” - -The shoemaker, with a smothered sigh, picked up the dainty shoe and -started again to fit the high heel into its place, when he thought of a -brilliant remark; and he made it: - -“Yes, lady; der same as der measles.” - -“I guess that’s right,” replied Muriel. - -“Dot is only right dot we shall help oder peoples vot is worser off dan -ve are. Der same Gott is ofer us all, and I can nefer forget dot I haf -ein daughter of mine, und dot if anyt’ing effer happen to her I shall -vant somepody’s fader to do py mein child as I do py deirs. Here is -your shoe, lady; it is fixet.” - -“Put it on, please,” said Muriel, holding out her shapely foot. - -The shoemaker drew back. He had fitted on many a shoe for the dwellers -of that neighborhood, and it never occurred to him to be afraid nor -ashamed, but this was different. He put powder in the shoe, and all -over the extended foot in his confusion, but at last the shoe was on. -Muriel stamped the foot a couple of times and asked how much it was. -The man stammered: - -“Nodings, nodings. I put it down to profit und loss.” - -“But I insist. You cannot make a living that way.” And she, quietly -and unobserved, laid some money on the bench as she started toward -the cellar-steps, her head almost clear. But before she could reach -the steps Helen Pierson came to the cellar-door, and as she started -down the first step she staggered and stumbled down the rest, reaching -the room almost falling. At the same moment Loney came in from the -door leading to the upper room. Muriel started as she saw the wretched -creature whose fair heritage of womanhood was thus wrecked and besodden -in gin, and drew aside, turning her back so that the unfortunate -creature could not recognize her. For it was Helen Pierson, John -Pierson’s abandoned and forsaken wife, who stood there staggering and -reeling. The sordid and soiled rags that covered her so scantily told -plainly to what a depth the poor creature, once so neat, had descended. -No wonder Muriel, who had been the cause of this downfall, hurried to -the darkest corner, shuddering and muttering: - -“It is she! My God! It is she!” - -As Helen tottered forward, almost falling, Loney caught her and helped -her to sit on the bench, aided by Morris. - -Then Muriel, seizing the chance while all three were by the bench, -hurriedly stepped to the door and up the steps, muttering: - -“Mother and child together, and neither one knows it. This is my work, -mine, mine! And then he wonders that I drink to drown it out.” - -“Holt her up, Loney,” said Morris. “I will delephone Dora to pring a -trink of vater. Der poor voman is sick.” - -With a childlike innocence Morris picked up a tin-box with a string -attached to it, and by dint of shouting very loudly his request to Dora -to bring a glass of water, he made himself heard and she came with it, -while the father was anxiously muttering: - -“Mine Loney, dot voman is in a bad fix. She cannot speak nor see -anydings, not now, but if she goes on like dis she will see more dings -in a minute dan effer she see in her life pefore.” - -Dora brought the water, and the dazed creature drank it as Morris held -it to her lips without knowing what it was. The shoemaker had been -half-afraid to give it, for fear of some convulsion, but as Helen drank -it she revived somewhat and looked at Morris, then at Loney. She stared -at the child with an intensity that surprised Dora and Morris, while -she asked Loney, in a husky whisper: - -“Who are you?” - -“I am Loney.” - -“Loney! And where’s your father and mother?” - -“Dead, I guess. I can just remember them, and that’s all,” said the -child. - -“I had a child once, a boy--he is dead, I guess, and I can just -remember him. A little boy who loved me. A baby whom I had taught to -pray--but now he is gone with all the rest.” - -“Mein poor vomans. Vot has brought you to dis?” - -“Gin, or the want of it. Send the children away, and I will tell you.” - -“Dot’s a good girl, Dora; take de Loney und go py der oder room, der -laty vants to make a secrets.” - -“Yes, papa,” said Dora, looking sympathetically at the unfortunate -woman, “call me if you want me.” - -The shoemaker looked at Dora, then in her girlish grace and purity, and -then at the poor creature on the bench, and held out his arm to Dora. - -“Come here, mein child. Kiss de fader. If anyt’ing shall efer happen to -you, mein daughter--dot vould kill your fader!” - -“But nothing--like this--will ever happen to me, father,” said Dora, -kissing him fondly and smiling at him bravely. - -“Dot’s de mudder’s eyes looking at me, Dora--de eyes of your mudder, -vot is now dead--there,” he added, with a sob, “run along mit Loney -and play pinochle.” - -Dora and Loney ran out of the shop, smiling back at the shoemaker, who -turned to the now weeping woman, saying: - -“They have gone now.” - -“What I have to say will not take long. I was a wife--an honest wife. -My husband deserted me for another woman, robbed me of my child and -left me to die alone. He had taught me to take an occasional drink, -saying that my health required it. In my trouble I turned to it, and -before I realized it--well--it has brought me to this.” - -“Vell, don’t you t’ink it has brought you far enough? If you go much -farder you vill fall ofer. Vy don’t you quit?” - -“Look at me,” said Helen, showing her shaking hand. “See my hand -shaking like an aspen. I am all but dead, and the craving for that -awful stuff is eating out my vitals. Quit! Quit! Don’t you see it is -too late, too late!” - -“Vy are you talking--it is only half-past eight. Look, mein poor -vomans. Read you dot sign of mein.” - -Saying these last words, the poor shoemaker pointed to an illuminated -card hung against the wall, and Helen slowly rose and looked at it, -reading aloud: - - “It is never too late to mend.” - -“Dot’s right. It is nefer too late to mend an olt shoe, nor der human -heart--neider von.” - -[Illustration: “IT’S NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND”] - -“Do you think that is true, Mister? Is there any hope for a battered -wreck like me?” - -“As true dot ve stant here lifing, dere is always hope, always. Dit not -Gott pring vater for Israel from der dry rock of Horeb? Dit Gott not -sent quail in der vilderness? Is Gott’s great arm come veak? No, it is -yust so strong as effer it vos. Vot you vant is to go far from here -and pegin all ofer again vere no one knows you. Here is death, dere is -safeness, hope, a new life--a petter von.” - -“How am I to get there? All I have are these few rags, this shattered -body, and the fragments of a woman’s broken heart.” - -As the poor creature sobbed out these words, Loney came quietly into -the room, and as he heard them the child knelt silently behind the -bench and folded his thin hands in prayer unobserved. - -Morris stood a moment silent, and then he said, solemnly: - -“In the name of my dead vife, and of mein lifing child, I vill help you -to go, if you vill promise me dot you will nefer drink again.” - -Helen turned and fixed her humid eyes upon the sign, and again read -aloud, “It is never too late to mend.” Then her eyes fell on the -kneeling child, and she crossed to the side where he was, and, placing -her trembling hand on his head, asked tremulously: - -“What are you doing, my boy?” - -“I don’t know why, but I am praying for you.” - -“And Almighty God has heard you, for I shall never want to drink -again,” said Helen, with a strange sense of freedom from the enslaving -habit, while the child said simply that he knew it would be so. - -Helen then turned to the shoemaker, with a new light in her eyes, -saying: - -“I am going to the dispensary for something for my nerves, and I will -come back and accept your help. And you, little boy--I know I am -low-down--but--and so unworthy--but will you let me kiss you for the -prayer you said?” - -For answer, the child lifted his face to hers and kissed her, all the -while seeming to be trying to see something through a maze. - -A great sob tore the bosom beneath the sordid rags, as the sweet -breath of the little boy swept over her face, and Helen sobbed: - -“That’s the first pure thing that has touched my lips for so long that -I can’t remember. And I’m going to try to take it with me to the throne -of God. May He bless and protect you, whosesoever child you are, in the -name of a broken-hearted mother who has lost her own little boy.” - -The shoemaker dug his big fists into his eyes, muttering something -about the wax getting into his eyes, so that he could not see just -then, while Helen, straighter now, and with a new purpose showing -through her sodden features and ennobling them to womanhood again, said: - -“Good-bye, for a while, Mr.--Mr.----” - -“Goldberg--Morris Goldberg, madam. I’ll pe reaty for you to-morrow ven -you come. And don’t forget de number, nor dot”--pointing to the card. - -“The God of us all will bless you for this day’s work. Good-bye. It is -never too late to mend. Thank God! it is never too late to mend!” - -Helen, pale, but now strong in her new resolution and hope, left the -humble shop and went out into the street, while the shoemaker went to -a niche in a corner, and drew aside a curtain which had covered the -sacred Shema, muttering, as he did so: - -“Hear ye, O Israel. There is but one God”--and ending with a fervent -prayer for the saving of the soul in peril who had just left there. And -he wist not that his face shone. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -As Helen Pierson disappeared from their sight, Loney turned to Morris -Goldberg, saying: - -“Mr. Goldberg, how can you help that poor lady when you are so poor -yourself? It takes a lot of money, don’t it, to go West? I heard some -of the boys at the asylum say it takes more ’n fifteen dollars, and -that’s an awful lot. That is more than you have, isn’t it?” - -“Vell, Loney, somedimes you make me t’ink you vos got more sense as -meinselluf. You say such schmart t’ings, but dot’s a goot investment, -Loney, alvays. Der good Gott, He pays it back. For efery dollar I gif -avay in charity I gets me two und a halluf back again. I haf vorked -hart und safed, und so I will help her.” - -“But I am a burden on you, ain’t I?” - -“Burten noding! Vot do you got? A place to sleep, mit somedimes -somedings good to eat, und somedimes nodings but preat und milluk. If -you vos not here I should haf to pay a poy t’ree dollars a veek. Make -you no mistake on dot. I am a peezness man, mit mine eye open for der -matsuma.” - -While Loney was trying to ponder over this statement, Dora came dancing -into the room, holding out a tiny blue baby’s shoe, saying, joyfully: - -“Oh see, papa. See! I found it. I found it in mama’s old cedar chest. -The first shoe I ever wore. We thought it was lost, but I found it. Oh, -I’m so glad!” - -The shoemaker took the tiny thing in his hand and looked at it through -misty eyes, and with a laugh that was half a sob, he said: - -“Vell, vot do you t’ink of dot for a shoe? It is a number nodings. You -cannot vear dot now, mein child.” - -“Hardly,” laughed Dora, holding out a plump and pretty foot. - -“How shall I forget der time I maket dot shoe? Dere you vos in der bed, -mit your mudder, und ven I dit showed it to her she dit laugh und cry -at der same time. Den she vent avay to sleep, mit der little shoe py -her lips, vere she kiss it. Now she sleep dot long sleep dot vill know -no vaking. I vill put dis vere it vill not get lost again, until I can -get Somolus Levinsky to put it in his safe for me.” - -More moved than Dora had ever seen her father, she watched him as he -put the precious little shoe in his breast pocket and walked back and -forth, struggling with his emotion. He had loved his wife with a deep -and strong affection, and her death had never found him comforted. Dora -resembled her mother, and all the lonely man’s love centered upon her -now. And the child loved him, and was in one, daughter and companion, -loving, obedient and worthy in every way. - -Just as Dora was beginning to feel half-alarmed at her father’s strange -actions, there was a light step on the cellar-steps and a gay and -pleasant voice heard, saying: - -“Hello, Mr. Goldberg! Hello, Dora! Hello, Loney! How are you all?” - -The shoemaker brightened up at once and turned to greet the newcomer--a -handsome and alert young Jew. Neatly dressed and self-respecting he -was, and full of joy at his reception and the news he had to impart. -Morris held out his hand heartily. - -“Ah, de Bennie. I’m glad to see you, Bennie. Vot’s der matter vit’ your -face, Dora? It is red, like de roses.” - -“Nothing, papa,” answered Dora, who had modestly and shyly drawn -backward to the darkest corner. - -“Good news, Mr. Goldberg! Good news!” cried Bennie, dancing about -lightly, but with his eyes fixed upon the pretty Dora. - -“Vell, tell it, Bennie. Dere has been noding in de shop to-day but -troubles, und heartaches, und sorrows.” - -“I have been promoted to assistant foreman of the cigar factory, with -my wages doubled.” - -This was said with an anxious glance in the direction of Dora, which -was met by a radiant smile. - -“Goot! Goot! Vat are you smiling at, like dot, Dora? Vot you got to do -mit Bennie’s goot fortune?” - -“Oh, papa,” said Dora, hiding her face, while Bennie manfully took his -stand beside her. The father was suddenly enlightened, and, after a -brief second, he drew himself together and said: - -“Vell, I am not plint. I can see dot two is company and four is a -procession. Come, Loney, I vant you to go mit me to de oder rooms und -help me to sweep de Oriental rugs.” - -“Mr. Goldberg, can I take Dora--and Loney--up de street for a treat? It -is up to me now.” - -“To treat de Dora and de Loney? Sure, treat dem--but treat dem right.” - -“And you, too, Mr. Goldberg. Won’t you come?” said Bennie, anxious to -gain Mr. Goldberg’s good graces. - -“Not so. I cannot leafe. I must fix a pair of prize-fighting shoes for -de Kid Broad, und if I get dem not done my name will be--vat you call -it, Bennie? Oh, yes, a dead von, Bennie!” - -“Yes, Mr. Goldberg.” - -“Bring it me von fife-cents stogies und I vill smoke you de goot luck. -Come, Loney, let us go und bolish de piano.” - -Saying this, the shoemaker took the child’s hand and started to the -upper room, leaving Bennie and Dora alone. Ben was too clever to allow -such an opportunity for a heart-to-heart talk to pass, so he said: - -“Are you glad, Dora, that it has come at last?” - -“Yes, Bennie; very glad for your sake.” - -“And aren’t you glad just a little for _our_ sakes?” - -“Yes, Bennie,” whispered Dora, shyly. - -“You know that you promised, when my wages were raised--that--if the -father consents, you would be my wife.” - -“Did you ask him, Bennie? But it is not because your pay is raised----” - -“I know that, Dora. But, you know, I would not want you until I could -take good care of you. So, if it wasn’t for the wages, why did you -promise, Dora?” - -“I promised because I love you, Bennie,” said Dora, simply and sweetly, -at the same time holding out both her hands, which Bennie took and -held; and then, growing bolder, he put one arm around her and drew her -to him and reverently kissed the upturned brow so confidingly raised. - -At that moment the father entered the shop, thinking they had gone, and -stood a second looking at them, with many emotions struggling on his -honest face, but he rallied and said, lightly: - -“I might make you marry her for dot, Bennie.” - -“Oh do, Mr. Goldberg. Please do. You know I have loved Dora ever -since I came here a little boy and she was a baby. It would be no -punishment--or else it would be a sweet one. Eh, Dora?” - -“Den you shall be punished, Bennie. You are a good, hard-working poy, -und some day, in a year or two, ven you are both a little older, you -shall have mein chilt.” - -“I thank you, Mr. Goldberg--father--more than I can say.” - -“Dank Dora, not me. She chooset you. I could see by de red on her -cheeks. But, my poy, guard her like de eyepalls, for she is all I haf. -She is like de mudder ofer again, und if anyt’ings happen mein Dora -it vill prake mein heart. Yes, I gif my little Dora to you. I vill -announce de betrothal at vonce.” - -Loney peeped in the door, uncertain as to his welcome, asking if he -could come in. The shoemaker said, huskily, for this betrothal, while -it assured his daughter a happy home, a good husband, and protection, -still seemed to him to sever the dear tie that had so bound them -together--the chain was broken, to let in another link: - -“Yes; come along, Loney; ve vassen’t long gone, but it vos long enough.” - -Then the long-deferred “treat” was brought up for discussion, and -Bennie hurried his pretty little Dora--his now--and Loney, and they -went happily up the steps, leaving the father alone in the dim shop, -with a heavy load of--was it joy or sorrow--in his heart? He scarcely -knew himself. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -“Vell,” sighed the shoemaker, taking up the heavily-spiked shoes, and -preparing to mend them, “now, vouldn’t dem shoes pe awful to stamp on -anoder feller’s corns? It’s going to pe awful lonesome, but I pe glat -dot Dora vill haf a goot husband, like de Bennie. I guess ve fix it mit -a pigger place. I’ll vistle or sing till dey comes pack.” - -Saying those philosophical words, Morris began to whistle, but the -effort brought tears to his eyes. Then he tried to sing, but the words -became a husky rattle, and, with a rueful face, he said: - -“Vell, ve haf vork und dot is petter as medicine for a sick heart.” - -Scarcely had he uttered these words when the doorway was darkened by -a form, and a big man, who looked still larger in his full cowboy -costume, came clattering down the steps to the little shop. The -shoemaker looked at him in dumb wonder. The cowboy costume was one he -had never seen before, and he looked at it, from the wide, flapping -sombrero to the spurred boots, not missing the hairy “chaps,” or -leggins, and belt which, to Morris’ excited eyes, seemed stuck full of -pistols and knives, although, really, the only two pistols were carried -in the man’s hands. Plainly, the man was intoxicated and at a dangerous -stage. He fired a shot into one corner and then another in rapid -succession, while he shouted: - -“Ee--you--Ee--you! I’m a wild and woolly catamount. Ee--you! I’m a bald -eagle and I’m flying high. Ee--you! Hip! Hip! I’m lookin’ for blood, -and I’m thirsty. Whoop-ee, whoop-ee!” - -The frightened shoemaker, if he thought anything, imagined that this -was some new kind of Cossack sent to massacre, as in Russia, and he -fell backward over his bench, nearly fainting, yet managed to say: - -“De slaughter-house, dot’s ofer in Jersey, de odder site of de river.” - -The man, who would have been handsome had it not been for the marks of -dissipation on his face, came on, saying loudly: - -“I’m the hungry wolf of the plains, and this is my night to -howl--ee--you! I’m the rip-snortin’ sure-shot from Dead Man’s Gulch!” - -“I gif you my vort, you got in de wrong place. Dere’s a -shootin’-gallery on de corner. Two shoots for a cent.” - -“Ee--zip! Ee--zip! You’re a shoemaker, ain’t you?” - -“I am if I live. Vat you vant, Mister? Dake de place. I don’t vant it. -De rent is too high, anyvay, und I look for anoder place--you can haf -it.” - -“I don’t want your place. I’m lookin’ for the coyote who deserted my -sister.” - -“Coyotes? I don’t keep ’em. Go down to Somolus Levinsky’s. He’s got his -life insured.” - -“My name is ‘Cactus Bill,’ and I’m all over ‘stickers,’ and I want a -shoemaker to peg ’em in.” - -“Dot’s a good fellow,” pleaded Morris; “go on to de next place. I got -de locomotor-attacks me, und I can’t use de hammer.” - -“Well, we’ll let it go at that. This Bowery booze is chain-lightning. -I can drink a gallon of our Western booze, but this Bowery fire is -burnin’ me up. I’m a stranger in a strange land. I’m a poor lost -yearlin’ and I haven’t got a brand. I’m a ring-tailed broncho an’ I’m -runnin’ away. Clear the range, pardner, for it’s my time to buck.” - -As he said this, the wild-looking cowboy fired another shot, which -was harmless, save for a small piece of plaster knocked from the wall. -The shoemaker began to tremble again, and begged him not to be so free -with his shooting or the police would be down on them. Indeed, it was -strange that the officers had not already made their appearance. So he -begged the stranger not to be so free. - -“I’m not free. I’m tough, I am. You’ve got to be tough in the West. If -ever you go there, trim yourself up with a beltful of guns and be as -tough as the next one, or they’ll eat you alive. Whoop-ee! I’m goin’ -out to find a graveyard. I’ve got to have a place to bury my dead.” - -Then the man turned and staggered toward the steps, firing two shots as -he went. The shoemaker at first thought he would run and hide, but he -ducked down behind his bench. - -“Nein, nein,” he muttered, “but I am tired.” - -The shoemaker still cowered behind the protecting bench when Dora and -Loney returned, laughing happily. Dora saw her father’s pale face and -asked: - -“Hello, papa. Was anyone here?” - -“Vas anyone here? You ought to haf seen that crowd. You’d t’ink it vos -an auction sale and dey vant to buy out my place. Vy you ask me such -foolish questions, Dora?” - -“Why, I did not know that was a foolish question. Was it foolish?” - -“No, mein chilt. It vos idiotics.” - -“Why, what is the matter, papa?” - -“I got it, vot you call dot tired feelings.” - -“Can I do anything for you?” - -“Yes, mein chilt. Go by de top of de steps und see if dere is a Vild -Vest parade comin’ down de street.” - -“Why, papa, what is wrong? Are you out of your head?” - -“Out of mine headt! Come und touch it, dat I shall pe sure I haf von -yet.” - -“Papa, papa!” said Dora, really alarmed. “What is the matter? Oh, are -you sick?” - -“I t’ink I am deat, put I don’t know.” - -“What _is_ the matter? What is wrong?” - -“Nodings wrong. He vas all right.” - -Here the shoemaker jumped to his feet, shouting in a wavering voice: -“Ee--you! I’m de ring-tailed broncho and it’s my time to buck. Ee--you!” - -“Run, Loney,” said the distracted Dora, “run and get the doctor. Papa -has gone crazy.” - -“Neffer mind, Loney. I’m all right now. Dere vos a feller here py de -name of ‘Cactus,’ and he haf stickers on, and he vanted me to peg dem -in.” - -“Worse and worse! Run, Loney, for the doctor. Run quick!” - -“No, no, Dora. It is all right now. I vos nervous, dot’s all. Vere is -de Bennie?” - -“Waiting at Lyons’ for you. He insists that you shall come there and -have supper with him.” - -“All right, Dora, I vill go. I need a little air, und I vill drink von -or a couple of glasses of beer. Keep de shop. Good-bye. I vill soon -come back. Good-bye, childrens.” - -Saying this, the nerve-shaken shoemaker put on his hat, and left his -apron, and went up the steps to the street. - -Dora was so happy that it seemed as though she could not contain her -joy. To her simple heart, marriage and motherhood were the sum and -substance of a woman’s earthly joy. No longings after a “career” -troubled her heart. She had her dear father, her little Loney, and, -above all, her Bennie. Was ever a girl so blessed before? Could human -heart ask more? Her cup was full to overflowing. Dora seized Loney and -began to dance about the dark, little shop. - -“Oh, Loney! what a happy world this is, after all! This is only an old -cellar, but I am just as happy as if it were a palace of gold.” - -“I knew the happy days would come to the cellar,” said Loney, with -a vague, far-away look in his blue eyes, “because I have prayed and -prayed, because you and your father were so good to me.” - -While these words were still on the lips of the child, the doorway was -again darkened and the burly form of “Cactus Bill” appeared. He shouted: - -“Ee--you! Where is he? I’m loaded for bear. I want a pipeful of his -whiskers.” - -Dora slipped her arm around Loney and drew him into the shadow, just as -John Pierson and Dopey Mack came softly down the steps. “Cactus Bill” -was so unsteady on his feet and so overcome by the vile liquor he had -been drinking that he neither heard nor saw the two men. Scarcely had -they reached the level of the floor than Pierson leveled his pistol -at “Bill,” who stood with his back to the door, and fired, the ball -striking the drunken man in the back. - -With the instinct of self-defence, “Bill” drew his pistol and tried to -aim at his adversary, but fell nerveless to the floor, where he lay -inert. - -Pierson, with his pistol still in his hand, stepped forward, saying: - -“It was your life or mine! You have searched the Bowery from end to end -for me to-night, to kill me--and I drew first; that’s all.” - -The prostrate giant gave no sign of life, and after a moment Pierson -said: - -“He is dead!” - -“Yes,” said Dopey, in an ugly whisper, “and dese kids is witness to de -deed.” - -Loney tried to slip out unobserved, to find Mr. Goldberg, but Dopey, -saying “Naw, you don’t,” struck the child a heavy blow on the head with -a murderous “billy.” The child gave a gasp and fell into Dopey’s arms. -Dopey dragged him to the inner door and out of sight. - -Dora stood white and speechless with terror until John Pierson turned -to her, saying: - -“Don’t be afraid. I won’t harm you. You are too young and beautiful to -die just yet.” - -Dopey returned alone and whispered to Pierson: - -“I didn’t mean to do it, but de crack on de nut croaked de kid!” - -“I’m glad of it. His lips are sealed forever.” - -Dopey went to Dora and, with an evil look on his opium-defaced visage, -said hoarsely: - -“Now den, my pretty bird, it’s your turn. You’ll never live to tell of -dis!” - -“Let her alone!” said John, angrily. “I’m not going to harm her. We’ve -got to get away from New York as quick as the devil will let us--and -I’m going to take her with me.” - -With a gasp of horror and a futile effort to call her father and -Bennie, Dora fainted and would have fallen, had not John caught her. - -“Come on; help me get her away. Some one may come,” whispered Pierson -to Dopey. - -While they stood over Dora, Loney came creeping softly from the hallway -where Dopey had left him, supposing him to be dead; and, unnoticed, -he crept to the bench and crouched behind it unobserved, and silently -wiped the blood that flowed from the wound in his head. - -Pierson started with Dora toward the cellar-steps, but Dopey checked -him, saying: - -“Not that way, cull. De street is full of people. I know dis place like -a book. Go out that door”--pointing to the door leading into the little -stairway and hall. “You’ll find a gratin’ openin’ into an alley-way. -I’ll go ’round and meet you dere wid Red Mike and his cab. Mike’s me -pal, he is. Dere’s only one way to do a t’ing, an’ dat’s de right way. -See?” - -“Then, hurry! hurry!” - -John then staggered out the way Dopey had indicated, with the -insensible Dora in his arms, while Dopey sneaked cautiously up the -cellar-steps to the street. - -A few moments of silence passed in that little shop, then Loney sobbed -once with the pain in his head and the knowledge that Dora had been -carried off by that bad man, and he was powerless to save her. Then his -senses left him and he sank back unconscious. - -With a glad and resonant voice the happy shoemaker shouted down the -steps as he made his appearance then: - -“Dora, Dora, I have de nice present for you--from de Bennie. Your ring -of betrothal. I tellet him I wouldn’t let you vear it now, and it is -all fixet. Now, you get merrit on your eighteenth birthday, eh? Vot you -say! Vy, vot is dot? De man mit de ‘stickers’! Yust deat drunk! Dot -Bowery booze vos too much for him--efen him. Vake up, Mister; vake up! -You can’t sleep here. Vat’s dot--ploot! Mein Gott! he is hurted!” - -While the shoemaker was shaking and talking to “Bill,” the latter -raised on his elbow, saying: - -“My friend, I’m hurt to the death. Shot in the back by the Mexican who -wronged my sister. I played fox until he had gone. I’m going over the -range fast--fast, pardner, and the night is coming on. I can hardly -see.” - -“Poor man! kan I do anydings for you?” - -“Nothin’, pardner; only look in my side-pocket--there’s an old paper -there. Can you find it?” - -Morris put his hand into the pocket designated, and drew therefrom a -folded paper, saying: - -“Is it here? Is dis it?” - -“That’s yours, pardner. If it ever amounts to anything, it proves the -ownership to a claim out West in the gold fields. Keep it. I haven’t a -relative on earth but a sister, maybe, if she isn’t dead. But if she is -living, and you can find her, and the claim pans out, give her half, -will you?” - -“I vill--yust de same as if it vos mein own sister.” - -“That’s bully, pard! Gimme your hand. So long. The sun has set, and I -can see my mother up there, with a big gold nugget around her head. So -long.” - -These last words ended in a rattling gasp, and a sudden straightening -of the limbs, and then a relaxation of the whole, strong body. “Cactus -Bill” was dead “with his boots on.” - -The dazed shoemaker stood up and looked wonderingly about him. So many -things had happened in this one day that it is no wonder he was dazed -by it all. Suddenly the weak voice of Loney called: - -“Dora! Dora!” - -“No, no; don’t call her. I don’t vant her to see dot,” said Morris, -pointing to “Bill.” Loney staggered from behind the bench, sobbing: - -“Oh, Mr. Goldberg! Dora’s stolen! She’s gone!” - -“Gone! Gone! Mein Dora gone! Vere?” - -“Yes; two men shot _him_, and took Dora!” - -The bereaved father sank down to the bench, sobbing: “Mein Gott! Mein -Gott!” - -“What are you going to do?” asked Loney, after a while. “Mr. Goldberg, -Mr. Goldberg! What are we going to do?” - -“I vill search de vorld ofer to find mein chilt.” - -Then, as he tried to take his handkerchief from his pocket, the tiny -baby-shoe fell from it. This brought a flood of tears and, as he kissed -the little shoe over and over again, he sobbed: - -“Mein little Dora! Mein little Dora!” - -Loney crept to the heartbroken man and passed his thin little arm -around the shoemaker’s neck while they mingled their tears. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -Six long months had passed since the day when Dora had been stolen from -her home. The father had the murdered man buried at his own expense. -No one thought of accusing him; besides, little Loney had seen the -assassination. - -The unfortunate Helen Pierson came back “clothed and in her right -mind,” as she had promised, and although it made a heavy drain upon -the shoemaker’s savings--added to the expenses of the funeral--she was -given money to take her back to the wide West, where she could begin -life over again. - -The body of her brother lay in his coffin in the tiny room above, but, -with a delicacy rare to men, Morris Goldberg had wished to spare her -the sight of a dead stranger. They neither knew that the man lying so -calm and peaceful there was her brother who had come from the West to -seek her and to avenge her; so she started Westward and the stranger -was laid at rest. - -Morris Goldberg had clung to Loney as the link between him and -despair. The child had loved Dora and he loved her. So there was some -one to whom the unhappy father could pour out his heart without fear of -wearying them. - -Search was made everywhere for the man who had shot the stranger, and -for Dopey Mack, but they had disappeared from their old haunts. So, -at last, the shoemaker decided to go West himself, in the faint hope -that this man, who had doubtless come from some place in the West, -had returned there. His rather slow mind had pieced together “Cactus -Bill’s” declaration that he had come from Wyoming in search of the man -who had abandoned his sister, and that Helen Pierson might be that -sister. And, if she was, he owed it to her to look after the interest -in the claim, the title to which he now held. Poor Loney could not be -left behind, so Morris Goldberg sold out his little shop, which had -prospered in his industrious hands, and all his belongings save a few -cherished treasures which he left with his friend who owned a safe. But -he took the tiny shoe with him. - -What Bennie had felt at this sudden bereavement, just when he was so -happy, words could not express. He, too, sought everywhere, and grew -old and worn in his anxiety. So, not long after the shoemaker had -gone, Bennie resigned his excellent position and took up his march -toward the wild and woolly West. - -At the end of six months from the day of the murder and the stealing -of Dora, there was a little wave of excitement, which did not owe its -origin to a shooting scrape, in a hamlet in Wyoming. This small cluster -of shacks and shanties was known as Hellandgone, and a forsaken spot -it seemed, with scarcely any vegetation beyond the dusty sagebrush and -scrubby bushes sparsely scattered upon the hills beyond. - -There was the usual “hotel,” a board house, of two stories. The lower -floor was taken up by the bar-room, which was the general sitting-room, -there being no other; the dining-room, with a lean-to kitchen beyond. - -The dining-room had one long table made of planks, with a bench of the -same length on each side. The bar-room had the smaller tables, and -several wooden chairs, besides a few kegs which also served as seats on -occasion. Lumber was scarce, and all furniture had to be carried a long -distance in wagons, which made it not only an expensive luxury, but one -of difficult attainment. - -The bar was at one side of the room, with the usual complement of -bottles, glasses and other paraphernalia devoted to such purposes. - -The door leading to the street was a wide one and a high one to -accommodate the cowboys from the adjacent ranches and the miners from -up the mountains beyond. - -Far up the trail could be seen mountains dark and sinister, more and -more rugged as they ascended. Along, on some of the slopes in the far -distance, could be seen the roofs and tall chimneys of quartz mills. On -the whole, the outlook was dreary and monotonous. - -Over the bar was a mirror and below that the usual hint about the -unwisdom of trust, and another, in form of a placard, hung to the bar, -saying: - - “Please don’t shoot the barkeeper! - He’s doing the best he can.” - -There was the usual crowd of roughly-dressed men lounging about and -drinking, to kill the time until the stage should arrive. This was an -event every day, for by it came letters, papers and news from the outer -world. - -Four of the men stood against the bar, singing. Their voices were -good and resonant, developed by singing to their herds in the long -night-watches, and after each verse of a song they took a sip of their -drink, and followed up that by giving the cowboy yell of “Ee--you! Zip! -Zip!” etc., until the very bottles trembled. - -One of the men, whom the others called Shoshone Pete, said, airily: - -“Set ’em up again, Snakes. I’ve been out on the range and this is the -first chance I’ve had in six weeks to oil up my machinery.” - -“Zip! Zip! Hurry up, you spavined old cayuse! Kick up your heels and -come to life,” suggested Dead Shot Mike, threateningly, while he -hastily swallowed what was left in the bottom of his glass and wiped -his lips on his sleeve, ready for another drink. - -“Ee--you! Zip! Zip! I’m my mother’s baby and I want my milk, I do,” -whimpered Shoshone Pete, while Snakes, the bartender, was struggling -with a refractory cork. He sneered: - -“Ah! gimme a minute till I get this cork out. You’re like a pack o’ -howlin’ coyotes hungry for meat.” - -The cork popped out of the bottle just then and Snakes handed it to the -waiting men, who set up another song with its shrill chorus of “zips -and ee--yous.” By the time the song was ended another glass was called -for, and Shoshone Pete began his noisy harangue of: - -“Ee--you! Zip! Zip! I’m the warbler of the range. I’m the wild -mocking-bird of the chaparral. I’m the silver-voiced son of a gun from -Cheyenne, Wy-o. I’m the game cock of Deadwood, and it’s my time to -crow!” then imitating a rooster. All the others laughed, and Snakes -said, benignly: - -“This is one on me, boys. Come up to the trough.” Again handing out the -bottle. - -“Watch him, boys, watch him! Whenever he treats, it’s ‘coffin -varnish,’” said Shoshone Pete, while the others attended strictly to -business. - -“Is that so?” said Snakes, angrily. “Let me tell you, this stuff is -four years old and came from Denver.” - -“Well,” said Mike, “it is the strongest four-year-old I ever saw. -Here’s how.” - -“Four-year-old! Don’t believe him, boys,” said Dan. “I seen him out -in the gulch last night makin’ this. Half a bar’l of rain water, two -gallons of alcohol, a plug o’ tobacco and a section o’ barbed wire.” - -This raised a noisy laugh at Snake’s expense, which he took -good-naturedly. Shoshone Pete turned and asked: - -“Where’s the Angel?” - -“Yes; where is she?” asked Dan. - -“The Angel of Hellandgone. Where is she?” inquired Mike. - -“She’s sure all right, eh?” - -“She went down the gulch and over the range to Silver Bill’s shack. His -wife’s got a new baby, and the Angel went down to help her out,” said -Snakes, with conviction. - -“She can have all mine--dust, sombrero, cayuse, saddle, bridle, lariat, -and all!” said Shoshone Pete, earnestly. “The Angel is IT. She is -certainly IT, and I can lick the first son of a gun that denies it!” - -“No chance for a mix-up there, Shoshone. There is not a man from -Cheyenne to the Gulch who would not fight for the Angel,” returned Mike. - -“She is IT, I say. She sure is IT. She is white and gold. That is what -she is. White outside and gold within. Set ’em up to the Angel, Snakes.” - -“My treat,” declared Snakes. - -“Naw, it’s mine,” declared Dan. - -“In your mind it is. It’s mine,” said Mike, aggressively, as though he -was seeking for an opportunity to fight for the Angel’s honor. - -“Here, here!” cried Shoshone. “Who spoke first. Are you a set of -highway robbers trying to hold me up? Set ’em up, Snakey, and here’s -your dust. Hats off, boys.” - -“To the Angel,” said Mike. - -“God bless her!” said Shoshone. - -“It is a long trail to Silver Bill’s. Did she go alone?” asked -Shoshone, when the ceremony of toasting the absent Angel had been -performed. - -“Yep,” replied Snakes, gathering the glasses and dipping them into some -mysterious liquid in a tub beneath the bar, and which was supposed to -be clean water. - -“There’s mountain lions out that way,” said Dan, mournfully, “but she -had her rifle.” - -“Then there’s nuttin’ to worry over. She can outshoot any galoot in the -county. Got a testament, Snakes?” - -“Sure I have,” said Snakes, producing a sealed pack of cards. - -“Who is going to sit in?” asked Shoshone Pete, when the four other men -instantly signified their willingness to join in a game of poker, and -all four gathered around one of the tables, while Shoshone shuffled the -cards, saying: - -“Say, this table here makes me think of when I was telegraph -operator----” - -“I never knowed that,” said Dan. - -“Well, I used to click the keys at Cody’s Crossin’ and--er--one night, -in a blizzard, I tried to run one freight train through another on the -same track, killin’ about three hundred yearlin’s. Then I sent in my -resign. Let her flicker, pardner.” - -Before a card was dealt, there was the sound of feet on the floor, and -all looked up to see John Pierson and Dopey Mack before them. Both -had grown full beards and were dressed in garments better adapted for -“roughing it” in the mountains than for social reunions. The players -turned diligently to their game, as etiquette on the range does not -allow of too much interest in one’s neighbor’s affairs. Pierson said to -Dopey, in a low voice: - -“If my recollection serves me well, Dopey, I think this is the place -and about as nearly out of the world as a place ever gets to.” - -“Well, dere’s one t’ing, Mister. I’m dead glad to find anyt’ing wid a -roof on it, for I’m dat sick and sore climbing over rocks dat I feels -like I been up ag’inst Bob Fitz in de twentieth round, and dat’s no -dream. It’s here in every bone, an’ it’s here, all right.” - -“Better than to be hitting the pipe in New York and have the life -burned out of you. We were lucky to have gotten away as we did with the -girl, and out here we’re as safe as if we were locked up in a tomb.” - -[Illustration: WESTERN PASTIME - “HITTING THE PIPE”] - -“Lucky she went off her base!” - -“Yes, that made it easy to tell that she is my poor, demented daughter, -out here by my physician’s orders.” - -“An’ did you ever see anybody take such a likin’ to anyone as de -Empress has to de gal? I never did.” - -“You mean Muriel? No; devil take the luck that she should have met us -that night. Curse her interference! Had it not been for her, I’d have -killed the other one long ago, but it will be different out here. I’ll -get rid of her, all right. She is no use to me now, since she went -daffy when she saw me kill that brute. Let me see if I am right. If I -am, I will bring Muriel and her here.” - -Saying these words, Pierson went to the bar and asked Snake if he could -obtain accommodations for his wife and demented daughter, himself and a -friend. - -After some conversation, to which all four players lent a listening -ear, all the keener because they had not heard the earlier talk between -the two men, Snakes offered two rooms on the floor above, one of them -over the bar-room and the other over the dining-room. Snakes made the -remark that the ladies might find the place noisy, especially for the -one who was demented, but John reassured him by saying that so long as -she saw no one she would be all right. - -Then Pierson asked Snakes if he did not remember him, saying that he -was sure that he had known Duffy several years ago in Cheyenne. Duffy -had almost forgotten his own name, so long had he been called Snakes, -and so was not to blame if he did not recognize the name of Blakely. -“Yes,” continued Pierson, “it is a sad business that brings me here. -I was married then, but my wife was in the East, and I have this -daughter, my only child. She became insane from overstudy. The doctors -thought that the high altitude and mountain air would restore her. The -poor child needs a rest.” - -At this, Shoshone Pete came over to where Pierson was standing and, -with the hearty good-fellowship of the men in that locality, said, -sympathetically: - -“Too bad, pardner. Kin I do anything for you? You’ve only got to say -it.” - -“Nothing, thank you. All we need is rest and quiet. As I was just -telling Duffy, we need nothing but quiet, as the sight of strangers -always excites my daughter.” - -“Well, there’ll be no shooting-matches here that I can stop as long as -you stay. Say, Snakes, you just give the boys a tip, and tell ’em that -I’ll plug the first galoot that lets his gun go off by mistake.” - -Pierson well knew the loyalty to womankind and the rough, but honest, -chivalry that made every miner and cowboy the knight errant of every -good woman in the wild country, and began to wish that he had remained -in New York, or some other big city, where it is so easy to hide. He -could have put both Muriel and Dora out of the way in a crowded city, -and before the police had even learned of the crime. - -Snakes hurried the arrangement of the two rooms, so that they should -be fit to receive the ladies, and this consisted mostly in wiping the -accumulation of dust from the furniture, and putting the table cover -askew, as men always seem to do. A broom was brought into requisition -and all the dust was swept under the rickety bureau, just where a -woman’s eye would see it first, but where the men fondly believed it -hidden from view. - -While this rapid-fire housecleaning was progressing, Pierson had -stepped outside and waved his handkerchief to the two women who were -stationed some distance away. - -Snakes turned to Shoshone Pete, saying that that man, Blakely, claimed -to have known him in Cheyenne, but, to save his life, he could not -place the man’s face, though there was something familiar in his voice. -Then it was suggested by one of the men who had remained seated at the -table that they should continue their game. - -“Whose play is it?” asked Snakes. - -“Whose play nothin’. It’s your ante. Don’t try to sneak out of duty, -like that,” said Dan, with one eye on the door and one on the table. -The arrival of women was a rare occurrence in this place, and the -interest quite overshadowed the merits of the game. - -John and Dopey walked along a little outside the hotel, so as to be out -of earshot, and Dopey asked anxiously if it was all right. - -“Dead easy. I spun them a yarn about my poor, crazy daughter who needed -silence and quiet and plenty of it. They’re such idiots about women -out here that they will do any and every thing they can to make her -comfortable.” - -“Youse’ll be a fool if you harms de young one. She’s been de trick dat -carries us thro’, see?” - -“Yes, but she may recover her reason at any time and give us away. The -first time that I can get that cat Muriel off guard, I’ll put her out -of the way for good. Our very lives depend upon it!” - -Dopey seemed to reflect. He had grown stronger, more active, and his -youth was making a brave fight against the enslavement of the deadly -drug, in this healthier life and away from the poisoned air of the -city, but nothing could ever make him look other than the vicious -output of low life on the Bowery. His brow was low, his eyes small and -shifty, his teeth yellow and irregular, and his mouth ugly and coarse. -Much of the face was now hidden in a thick beard. - -It seemed a curious thing that a man like Pierson, so neat and careful -of his personal appearance, and so much above Dopey in intelligence, -should choose a creature like Dopey for a companion, but he looked upon -the degenerate as a tool in the commission of his crimes and, besides, -even criminals appear to have a need of some confidential agent to -whom to confide their plans. Dopey looked upon Pierson as a wonderful -being, since he was capable of any crime, and always seemed to look the -gentleman--even now, with the bushy beard that half hid his face. Dopey -would follow Pierson’s lead to any length, but he was not capable of -originating the plans that made Pierson seem so great to him. - -Pierson stood restlessly awaiting the arrival of Muriel and Dora, with -his eyes fairly blazing with hatred of the woman who had given up -everything, that women hold dear, for him. She was an impediment now, -and a constant menace. He must get rid of her somehow. - -Muriel looked pale and tired, and her costume showed the effects of -the long, dusty ride. But her every sense was alert to watch over and -protect Dora, whom she was leading tenderly. Dora had lost some of her -fresh young beauty, but there was something inexpressibly touching in -her vacant stare and timid manner. - -As they neared the hotel, Dora began to sing as she fondled a delicate -wildflower in her hand. - - “Tell me that you love me, - For that’s the sweetest story ever told” - -sang the girl, and then she reverted to the song, after glancing -curiously about her: - - “Tell me that you love me, - Tell me softly, sweetly, as of old, - Tell me that you love me, - For that’s the sweetest story ever told.” - -As the two women approached the place where Dopey and John stood, Dora -handed the flower to Dopey, who looked at it curiously and then, with a -sneering scowl, drew back, while the poor girl said: - -“Don’t you want the flower? I found it growing all alone out of a -crevice in the rocks. See how good is the dear God. He sends us flowers -even here.” Then she began to sing again the same refrain, then stopped -suddenly, saying, with a strident laugh: - -“Here, here! There comes Bennie!” Then she began to call for Bennie -until even her poor, dazed mind comprehended that there was no answer. -Then, turning to Muriel, she said: - -“What’s wrong, lady? I call and call, and no answer comes from Bennie. -He never comes.” Then she wept. - -Muriel turned to John, who stood there with hatred gleaming in his -half-shut eyes, and whispered: - -“Look! look at your work, with the eyes of a hungry wolf, but you shall -not harm her, for I will kill you myself first!” - -“I know who will come. He never did fail when I called. Papa, papa! -No, he doesn’t come, either. Poor papa! he is all tired out and is -sleeping. Hush! don’t make a noise, or you’ll wake him up.” - -“Take her into the house and give her a dose of that sleeping-potion,” -said Pierson to Muriel. - -“I’ll take the poor child in, for she needs rest and food, but she has -had the last dose of that slow poison she shall ever take!” - -“See here!” said John, brutally, “you are going too far, my lady. I -have just about tired of your interference in this matter!” - -“Then,” replied Muriel, firmly, “you might as well sit down and take -a good long rest, for I’ve only just begun. Don’t you know that I -am perfectly well aware of the reason that caused you to take this -child, whose beauty and purity were so great that even God Almighty -interfered, to save her from you? I’m no saint, but let me tell you -here and now, that I’m going to stand by this child as if she were my -own, and that neither you nor anyone else shall harm one hair of her -head!” - -“Well, then, come on,” said John, in a tone so quiet that anyone who -did not know him might have thought he was completely cowed; “and don’t -stand there brawling like a fishwife.” - -Saying this, John led the way to the saloon door, the only entrance to -the hotel for guests. Dora looked up at the house and turned to Muriel, -asking: - -“Is that home, lady? Shall we find papa and Bennie in there?” - -“You shall see papa and Bennie soon, dearie. Come on, come on.” - -“All right. I’ll go, for I’m so tired and hungry, too.” - -John took the arm of Dora, while Muriel stood beside her, with Dopey in -the rear, and they entered the saloon. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -As the party entered, every one of the men who had been playing cards -stood up, and it did not require a whispered command from Shoshone Pete -to make them remove their hats. - -They all stood in line with their hats in their hands and bowing low -and respectfully as Snakes directed them to the stairway, following -them himself obsequiously, for Muriel’s commanding presence, and Dora’s -touching beauty, completely overpowered him. As they neared the stairs, -Dora turned to the three men standing in a line, asking: - -“Have you seen Bennie? He’s been gone away so long. Have any of you -seen him?” - -John drew Dora along unresistingly, as she was gentle and obedient, and -they went up the rickety stairs with Duffy. - -“Poor little gal!” said Shoshone Pete, with a suspicious moisture -in his eyes. “She is away off. Let’s keep quiet, boys; for even the -Indians hold such as she sacred.” - -This was a tense moment for the three men. They silently gathered -up the cards, and were about to leave the place, when there was a -well-known shout, outside, of: “Who-hoo! Hallo!” - -“It’s the Angel!” cried Shoshone, while the three began to dust their -boots rapidly with their wide sombreros, and then they all awaited her -arrival. - -Helen Pierson it was, who now made her appearance with a lithe and -active bound down from the rocks beyond. She wore a short corduroy -skirt, leather leggings, a wide sombrero, and had around her waist a -cartridge-belt with a pistol, and in her hand she carried a small, but -deadly, repeating-rifle. - -How different she was from the poor, besotted wretch whom Morris -Goldberg had taught that it is never too late to mend, and had -sent West to begin life over again. Now her eyes were bright, her -cheeks red, and health spoke in every motion. All the boys stood at -“attention,” smiling broadly, and waiting for her to speak. This she -did, saying, blithely: - -“Well; here I am, safe and sound as a dollar. Hello, Shoshone! Howdy, -Dan! Hello, Mike! My! that was a long trip in a short time.” - -“Here, here! No fair, Angel, no fair!” cried Snakes Duffy, who had -returned just then. - -“Why, what’s wrong, Snakes?” asked Helen. - -“You never said ‘Hello’ to me.” - -“Oh, excuse me. How are you, Mr. Snakes Duffy?” said Helen, with an -elaborate bow, while all the rest laughed. - -“I’m tip-top, Angel. How’s Silver Bill’s folks?” - -“All right. Getting along fine,” replied she, waiting a little -maliciously for one of them to ask the question she knew they were -aching to have answered. - -“Boys,” said Shoshone, gathering the three all in one group, and -whispering something to them, whereat Dan shook his head, while Snakes -and Mike turned their backs, and Mike said: - -“It’s up to you, Shoshone.” - -This gentleman then put his sombrero on his head, simply to call -attention by a wide flourish of his arm to the fact that he took it off -to the Angel, and then opened his mouth, to find that words would not -come. Helen smiled at his embarrassment and asked, innocently: - -“Well, what is it, Shoshone?” - -With a hoarse croak, meant to be a persuasive accent, Shoshone asked, -stammering sheepishly: - -“Boy or gal, ma’am?” - -“Both!” replied Helen, gravely, while Shoshone slapped his leg with the -hat, shouting: - -“By the howlin’ coyote, boys, it’s twins! Now ain’t that Silver Bill -the luckiest cuss! A wife like a mountain-pink, and now twins! Just -think!” - -Helen turned to Snakes, saying: - -“Snakes, may I have a bite to eat before I go to my shack? I’m too -tired to do anything but go to sleep.” - -“_May_ she have a bite to eat, boys? _May_ she? Listen to that!” - -“She may. She may have all that’s in the house if she likes, eh, boys?” -said Shoshone, fervently. - -“That’s what!” said Dan, emphatically. - -“Sure thing!” said Mike, with a clear determination written on every -line of his rugged face, to frighten anyone or anything that might -hinder Helen from having any and everything she wanted. - -“I’m going to be waiter,” said Shoshone, starting toward the -dining-room. - -“You are going to play hob, you are,” said Mike, laughingly pushing -Shoshone back, while Mike and Snakes engaged in mimic battle for the -privilege of waiting upon “the Angel,” and finally dodged out the -bar-room door to reach the dining-room first. Helen stood for a moment -looking up to the great mountains beyond, with misty eyes, as she -thought, as she did every hour of her life: - -“How I thank God that He let me live to find out it is never too late -to mend.” - -Then she turned and went into the dining-room, where the four men -pressed her to eat until she declared she should never be hungry again -as long as she lived. - -While they were in the dining-room, and Pierson and his party were -upstairs, there came toiling up the street a curious procession, -consisting of a bony horse covered with impedimenta, among which was -seated a slender, pale-faced boy. The horse was partly led, partly -dragged, by Morris Goldberg, himself dusty and unkempt. - -His search had been long and wearisome, and it had exhausted nearly all -his funds, but he found a trace of the lost girl, and had followed it -as best he could, bringing with him the little boy, Loney. - -Sometimes, when his money was completely gone, he would stop a few days -in a town and go to work mending such shoes as he could get to do, and -in that way they had managed to exist. Now, they had reached this spot, -and here Morris intended to remain while he sought for the mine, the -deed to which was in his possession. - -There had been next to no vegetation on the last lap of this lonely -road, and the poor beast was ready to drop. - -Morris Goldberg was out of his element in the mines, or, indeed, -anywhere but in a city. He was too credulous and too ignorant of the -way of life, and accepted all that was told him as truth. The cowboys -and miners living so far from refined amusements found a sort of -vicarious solace in “joshing greenhorns,” as they called it, and this -meant that every newcomer was the butt of their rough jokes and rougher -horse-play. - -The way to this lonely hamlet was long, and bordered by ranges and -mines, and the men along the route had made him believe that unless -he wished to be killed as a tenderfoot he must dress and act like a -cowboy. At their last stopping-place the boys on a ranch joined in -the fun, and fitted the poor shoemaker out with a pair of long-haired -“chaps,” or leggings, and these they made him put on the wrong way. -This made locomotion difficult and awkward. He was prevailed upon to -wear a wide belt with four pistols. These the boys took good care to -see were loaded with blank cartridges. - -Then the unsuspecting man was filled with stories of the dangerous -location toward which he was traveling, and had impressed upon him that -he must be always ready with his gun, and always try to shoot first, if -any trouble arose. - -Shrewd and clever as the shoemaker was in a city, dealing with his -customers, here he was nearly as helpless as little Loney. Yet he -had managed to reach thus far. He had seen and heard enough of the -high-sounding talk of the cowboys and miners, as they came into towns, -and promptly began imbibing the fiery liquor handed them, not to have -learned something of it, and he decided to call himself Wild Bill, the -Bull-man. He would not demean himself to call himself a cowboy. Not he. -He hoped to strike terror into the hearts of any vicious characters -with whom he might come in contact. - -As the man, boy and horse reached the rail and post set aside for the -convenience of riders to tie their horses, Morris lifted the boy out -from among the pots, pans, tent, and shoemaker’s kit, and stood the -weary little fellow down on his wavering legs. As the horse began to -nose about, looking for some sign of grass or other food, one could see -a sign attached to his tail, the only available place left after all -other things were packed on, to notify everybody that this outfit was -that of “Morris Goldberg, shoemaker.” - -There was no one in sight, all the men being in the dining-room with -Helen, and Pierson’s party upstairs. Loney looked about, and read: - - “Dead Man’s Gulch Saloon.” - -“Vell, it is a goot place to come, Loney. It is Dead Man’s Gulch, and -dot’s me. I am so nearly deat dot I can hartly hear mine own voice.” - -“I’m glad we’ve come to some place. I’m awful hungry, and I guess Jake -is hungry, too.” - -“Ve vill get somedings soon, Loney. Und dot horse! Vot kint of a horse -are you, anyway? You vant to eat all de time. Don’t I feed you und -now you are not carrying me, und I pull you up de hills. You are vort -nodings. If I vos to sell you, I vould git nodings but de price of de -shoes--for olt iron. But nefer mind, Jake, I vill not see you starf. -Now, here is de last bag of oats. Eat ’em und be happy. You’re a pretty -goot fellow, after all, und if you die I vill make your hide into de -shoes you haf maket me vore out pulling you along. Come away, Loney; -meppe he vill fall ofer on you.” - -“Oh, he is only tired, and I guess horses need more oats and grass -than we think. But why do you wear so many pistols, Mr. Goldberg?” - -“Hush! Vot dit I told you about calling me dot name? I am Vilt Bill, de -Bull-man, now. Hafen’t I told you dot ve are now in de Vest, among de -bad mens und I must be a bad mans, too? Now, Jake, don’t you eat any -more dust. If you do, und drink vater on top of it, your name vill be -mud.” - -“Aren’t you sorry you brought me along to look for Dora, Mr. Gold----, -I mean Wild Bill, the Bull-man? I’m a lot of trouble, ain’t I?” - -“Drouble nodings! You are a fool. You are vorking for me, und you don’t -know it. Do you t’ink I vould let you stay dere alone in New York to -starf? No, sir! I vould not let Somolus Levinsky get from me mine -errant-boy. Not since I dit loset mein Dora. I must haf some chilt -arount me, or I shall go grazy. Dere! dere! dake de hoss out dere und -find him some grass or someding. You must vork und earn your vages.” - -“All right, Mr. Wild Bill,” said Loney, smiling, for he knew well that -the shoemaker would not starve or overwork man or beast. - -While the child was leading the weary horse toward a trough which -received its water from far up the mountains, a tall Indian, in full -chief’s dress--feathers and all--stood on the edge of the path to the -run. The boy, being on the farther side of the horse, did not see the -Indian, who stood with folded arms looking at the child, then at the -poor horse and lastly at the surprising “get-up” of the shoemaker. - -The latter looked at his leggings and belt with pardonable pride, then -felt of his four pistols, one by one, and, wishing to keep up the -delusion of his own greatness, he strutted about a little, at the same -time saying: - -“I shall see if I can remember de vay to shout. Ee--you! I am de Vilt -Bill, de Bull-man. I am de pest shoemaker--na--na--dot is not it. I am -de rink-tail squealer of de cook-stofe--no, I mean range. I am de----” - -Here the “bad man” happened to get a view of Red Eagle, the Indian, -which at first paralyzed him. Then he rallied and drew one of his -pistols and, with the bravery of a “well-heeled” man, he took a step -forward, saying, with growing courage: - -“Dot is Hiawatha. Gif me a pack of cigarroots.” - -As he said this, Morris held out his hand, whereat the Indian held out -his own hand, saying, in a guttural voice: - -“Ugh!” - -“Vot’s dot?” asked the bad man. - -“Ugh!” repeated the Indian. - -“Is dot a man or a cow? Vot for a kind of talk is dot?” - -“Ugh, ugh, ugh!” was the Indian’s reply. - -“Vere is your pain, mein friend?” - -“Got no pain--want firewater,” said the Indian, stolidly. - -“Vell, vot do you t’ink of dot?” said Morris aloud, “vanting fire und -vater hot, togedder.” - -The noble redman then pointed to the formidable array of pistols and -said, solemnly: - -“Ugh! pale-face heap big chief. Give Injun tobac.” - -“I vill gif you nodings. Go to your own cigar-store und get it.” - -The big Indian must have had a fine sense of humor, as he said, -pointing to the bony horse that was drinking as if he would never stop, -with a majestic wave of his hand: - -“Big chief got fast horse.” - -“Fast! I dink so. He didn’t eat nodings put dust for two veeks--only a -little oatses, und stickses, vot dey calls crass out here.” - -“Chief better tie horse. He run away.” - -“Don’t pe afrait. You vant to puy him?” - -“Injun no buy horse. Injun got fast ponies. No can beat.” - -“Mein horse is fast, too--ven he is tied to de ground.” - -“Injun race ponies ’gainst horse for firewater and tobac.” - -“No, sir!” said Morris, grandly. “I don’t vant to rob you. Mein horse -is faster as a railroad train--on a siding.” - -“Injun race ponies ’gainst horse,” replied the Indian, stolidly. - -“Vot kind of a bet you make?” said Morris. - -“Bet firewater and tobac.” - -“I’ll do it. I bet on your ponies und you bet on mein horse.” - -“Injun no bet so. Chief got many pistols. Chief good shot?” - -“Am I a goot shoots? I should say I vos a goot shoots. I am de pest -shooter on de stofe--I mean range. Mit dis son of a gun I”--but “Wild -Bill” did not finish that sentence, as the pistol which he held loosely -in his left hand went off unexpectedly, which so startled him that he -jumped backward trembling. - -At this stage of the proceedings, the four men with Helen returned to -the bar-room and, seeing the latter part of this affair from the door, -gave Helen a chance to throw a bird that she had shot on her way over -the range, so that it fell at his feet, and then she drew back out of -sight. The shoemaker saw the bird fall at his feet and, picking it up, -said proudly: - -“Am I a shootser? Vell, look out for your selluf. Dot tells de story.” -And then he began to strut about grandly. - -The men looked out, tiptoeing to the door, Shoshone saying: - -“Wait, boys; take a peek first. It may be Rattlesnake Sam shootin’ -things up. He’s been on the rampage lately, and he’s ugly when he gets -started, and we don’t want a noise.” - -The Indian still stood in the same place, but bowed ironically several -times, saying: - -“Big chief, dead shot. Big chief, dead shot.” - -As the four men reached the porch, Shoshone saw that they had gotten -hold of another tenderfoot, and promptly they forgot that there was to -be no noise there that day, for Shoshone said: - -“Get ready, boys; now, all at once! He’s mine, for I saw him first.” - -All the boys, in chorus, gave their ear-splitting salute of “Ee--you! -Zip,” etc., while the frightened shoemaker held up his shaking left -hand, trying feebly to emit a ferocious cowboy yell, at which Shoshone -Pete broke out laughing and said: - -“Why, hello, tenderfoot! What do you want to do? Sell me -that?”--pointing at the shaking pistol. - -The shoemaker thought, “How can I shoot him now, when he begins to -talk business?” Then to his tormentor he said: “Who told you dot I haf -tender feet? Dot is right, for I haf got plisters on der heels.” - -At this naive confession, all present began to laugh and shout. Dan -came forward, saying, as well as his laughter would let him: - -“I say, pardner, what might your name be?” - -“It’s--I mean, I am de Vilt Bill, de Bull-man. I am de rink-tailed -squealer from Hoboken, New Jersey. I am de rip-snorting vilt man from -de bad lands, und dis is de time to maket de racket. Quack! quack! -quack!” - -The poor man was trying to repeat the lesson given him by the “boys” in -the last town where he had stayed a few days. The boys from Hellandgone -simply hugged each other, to keep from falling, in their paroxysms -of laughter, at the preternatural gravity with which the above -announcement of his pretensions came from the scared shoemaker’s lips. -That he was scared is not a sufficiently strong word for his mental -state. - -As he ceased his “cowboy” oration, Shoshone Pete recovered breath -enough to say: - -“Rope him, Dan! Rope him! He might get away before he is initiated.” - -“Oh, I am a Mason, all right, all right. Und a memper of der Sangerfest -Bunt, und I haf no vish to join any more--no--I haf enough.” - -Dan threw the lariat so deftly that it settled down over the poor -shoemaker so that when it was drawn taut his arms were tightly pinioned -to his body. - -Just then Loney came back to where this scene was taking place, and he -was frightened so that he could scarcely speak. But he threw himself -upon his knees before the men, imploring with his thin little hands -uplifted, saying: - -“Don’t hurt him, please. Don’t hurt him--he is all the friend I’ve got. -And he is so good to me.” - -“Hello!” said Shoshone, turning, “who are you?” - -“Don’t pe afrait, Loney. Dey are yust having deir leedle fun. -Gentlemen, dot is little Sure-de-shot, de calf-boy.” - -This caused another shout of wild laughter, and they dragged Morris -into the saloon, and up to the bar; Loney and Red Eagle, the Indian, -followed--the Indian in the hope of firewater, and the child to try and -protect his benefactor. - -“Now,” said Shoshone, loudly, “set ’em up, Snakesy. We’re going to -baptize the baby. Make it whiskey straight, and make it strong.” - -“Mein frients, I don’t vant to drink viskey. It goes to mein head und -makes me grazy!” - -“Whiskey straight, I said, and whiskey straight it will be! What do you -want for a chaser?” - -“Do me de favor und chase me,” groaned the unhappy man. - -Snakes placed the glasses before the men. Shoshone pulled his pistol -and, placing it at Morris’ temple, said gruffly: - -“Down she goes, or off she blows!” - -“All right, down she goes!” said Morris. “Do you t’ink I’m a tam fool? -I needet mein head to talk mit.” - -This brought a laugh from all, but Shoshone noticed the child standing -there, pale with fright and perhaps hunger, he thought; so he stopped -what they called “the initiation ceremonies,” to send Loney out to -the dining-room for a dinner at his own expense, at the same time -whispering to Loney that he need not be afraid. They would not hurt his -friend. So Loney half-unwillingly went to the table, where such a meal -as he had not had lately was set before him, and to which he did such -justice as only a hungry boy can. - -“Set ’em up again, Snakes; the baby likes his milk. Give Red Eagle a -quart, Snakes.” - -Red Eagle took the quart-bottle handed him by Snakes and went to one -corner of the room and sat down with his bottle, from which he took -ecstatic sips. - -Then it was Mike’s turn to treat, and he, too, gave Morris the -alternative of drinking or dying. The poor shoemaker drank, but -protested: - -“I’m afrait I’ll die if I don’t, und I’m afrait I’ll die if I do--so -here she goes!” - -Then he clapped his hands to his breast, saying: - -“Oh, I know I vill die. Und I’m not insured. Vot vill Loney do?” - -“The drinks are on me, gentlemen,” said Snakes, who knew how to make -himself popular by a great display of generosity. - -Morris tried to beg off this time, but to no avail. In their idea of -having fun with a tenderfoot they had no mercy, and the same cold -arguments were placed at his head, while Red Eagle looked at the man -who had to be forced to drink. - -The unaccustomed liquor began to overcome the poor shoemaker, taken, as -it had been, upon a very empty stomach. He grew reckless and, drawing -two of his pistols, said, somewhat unsteadily: - -“Dot’s not so bad, after all. Maype you fellows take von off me, ain’t -it?” - -Then he tried, unsteadily, to point the pistols at the heads of the two -nearest him, while all the men laughed noisily. - -“Bully boy!” said Shoshone. “He is beginning to wake up. Set ’em up -again.” - -“Yes; set ’em up, Snakes,” said Morris, thickly. “I don’t vant snakes -now, but I’ll get ’em soon enough.” - -Dan and Mike had now wearied of the nonsense, and went to the table -farthest from the bar and sat down. Shoshone looked at Morris a moment -and said: - -“Say, pardner, you can’t fool me. I know you. Don’t come around here -trying to play the innocent on us. You are Alkali Ike from the Bad -Lands.” - -“Alcohol Ike--I don’t----” - -“Yes, I remember when you killed those six men, shot a Mexican and -stole their horses and cattle!” - -“Oh, yes; oh, yes--oh, vot a liar!” - -“Yes, you did--you did--you know you did!” - -“Oh, yes,” said Morris, seeing that he was expected to agree to -everything the man said; “but don’t say it so loud. Dem oders might -pelief it.” - -“And you know you stole that ranchman’s wife and took her to Cheyenne.” - -“I--I--stole a man’s vife. Vich von?” - -“Great snakes! Do you mean to say there was another--maybe more. Oh, -my--oh, my!” - -“Dit I take her on de cars or on a ship?” - -“I don’t know that, but you got there, all right, all right. Say, -pardner, I’ve got a little job on. There’s a geezer upstairs just -loaded with gold, so much that it tires him all over to carry it. I’ve -got a hunch that we could get it all without the least trouble. What -say?” - -“Do you mean to rob him?” - -“That’s about the size of it!” - -“Vell, you can count me out.” - -“Ah, bah! you are poor, I can see that; and it’s dead easy----” - -“It’s deader easier to be honest, and don’t you forget it. Come, you -are a decent feller, dough you don’t treat strangers too goot. I dell -you vot I do: I teach you de telegraphers’ peezness. It don’t make so -much money as teifs do, but it is honest.” - -“Telegraphy? You an operator?” - -“Sure. I learnt dot, but ven I got marrit I gif it up. But vonce you -know it, you always know it----” - -“What’s this?” said Shoshone, tapping upon the edge of the bar with -his glass. Morris immediately answered him in the same code. Shoshone -turned and slapped Morris on the back with such force that it brought -tears to his eyes, while Shoshone called to the others: “Hey, boys, I -lose. He is an operator--and an honest one.” - -In the meantime Dan and Mike had been having “fun” with the Indian. -One of them poured alcohol over his moccasined foot and the other -touched a match to it. The Indian jumped when he saw the blaze, but -Snakes turned a seltzer-bottle in that direction, which quenched the -flame. The Indian gave one hair-lifting whoop and, grasping his bottle, -disappeared. - -In the meantime Morris was beginning to feel the influence of the vile -liquor he had been forced to take and, all of a sudden, he began with a -rousing “Ee--you! Ee--you! Let it go at dat. I’m de bad shoemaker from -de Bowery, New York, und I’m going to raise der tuyfel. You vill see if -I can shoot de shootses!” - -At this, the bewildered man took two of the pistols and began shooting -right and left, bringing down bottles, lamps, deer-heads, and mirror -in fell confusion, yelling like a wild man at the same time. - -Every man in the room took to the door and ran up the run, disappearing -behind the rocks. Morris never stopped until he had emptied the -whole of the four pistols. The cartridges, with their load of tiny -quail-shot, would have hurt no one, unless he had happened to hit -someone’s eye, but they sufficed to splinter the glasses and make a -great noise. - -As the last cartridge exploded, Morris staggered over to a chair and -sank down upon it, moaning: - -“Oh, Dora--Dora! Oh, mein poor head! mein head!” - -Loney, hearing his voice, crept into the room, peering through the -smoke, and then he called: - -“Oh, Mr. Goldberg--I mean----” - -“Nefer mind de Vilt Bill--I’m done mit him. I’m yust meinselluf now, -but oh, mein head!” - -“Can I do anything for you?” - -“Yes; hellup me outsite, vere de tent vos, und ve see if ve can get it -up, und you take dis dollar und get some dinner.” - -“We’ll get the tent up. I had a fine dinner. Did you kill many men?” - -“I hope not, Loney, but I feel awful sick, und I must get in bet.” - -But it was Shoshone and Dan who set the tent where Morris was laid to -sleep the night of his initiation. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -While the events in the preceding chapter were taking place, upstairs -in the room given to Muriel and Dora a very different state of affairs -existed. Dora, young as she was, was literally worn out from the -unaccustomed fatigue, lack of her regular meals, and made dull and -languid by the sleeping-potion which Pierson had forced Muriel to give -her. So the poor girl fell heavily on the bed and slept almost at once. - -Muriel was glad of this, for it kept her mind continually on the alert -trying to answer Dora’s questions as to where Bennie and her father -were. The young girl, with Bennie’s name upon her lips, constantly kept -Muriel in a nervous tremor. Muriel knew well that Pierson intended to -kill Dora as soon as he could do so with safety, and she was also well -aware of what he intended to do with herself, for she understood his -vicious nature as his own mother never had. - -So Muriel kept always on the alert to watch for John’s murderous -intentions, scarcely ate and was afraid to sleep, lest he should come, -with his fell determination, and kill them both while asleep. - -So weary was Dora that she knew nothing of the noise in the bar-room -just beneath her. Muriel heard the shots plainly, but, hearing the -noisy bursts of laughter, she judged the matter rightly. She knew -something of the habits of the rough but good-hearted men in this -region. She was much more afraid of John Pierson and his villainous -ally, Dopey, than of all the wildest cowboys or miners in the State. - -Toward dusk Dora opened her eyes, to find Muriel beside her, watching -lest she should awaken and try to run away. Dora clung to Muriel as her -only friend, and the more helpless she grew, the more Muriel loved her. - -The conscience that had so long lain dormant or stifled now made its -presence known, and the great mystery of an awakening soul was taking -place in Muriel. She went over each lawless act of her life in her -mind, and with each fresh remembrance she quailed in horror at herself. -Now she was like a mother being robbed of her child. John Pierson could -not harm Dora without first killing her--on that she was determined. -She had given Dora the potion more for the child’s own sake than at -John’s orders, for without it Dora might have become violent, and so it -would have brought matters to a climax, and one full of danger. - -Muriel had tried twice to send a telegram to Dora’s father, but had -been thwarted, so now all she could do was to watch over her. - -As a last resort, Muriel resolved, in case of immediate danger, to -appeal to the genuine chivalry of the men about. True, John would -probably kill her, but what was her wrecked life worth? At least she -could save the girl! - -Dora’s love for Bennie was so innocent and trustful that it touched -Muriel immeasurably, and it was still another reason why she must save -the child, for so Dora was to this world-weary woman. - -As Dora awoke, she sat up, saying: - -“Oh, where did father and Bennie go? They were here just now. Oh, why -didn’t you stop them? Oh, I want my father, my good father!” - -At that moment Dora’s father was being covered comfortably by Shoshone -and Loney not one hundred yards from where she was wailing for him. - -“There, dearie. Don’t worry. We will soon find them. Don’t you want -something to eat? You can have a nice, warm supper now in a little -while. Come, let me fix your hair and bathe your face and hands.” - -“Do you think they will get here soon? I don’t see why they stay so. -They must know that I am frightened. Father never left me alone so -long.” - -For the time being, Dora seemed to have forgotten Loney. - -Muriel combed and dressed Dora’s thick, dark hair, comforting and -consoling her with tender words all the while, until, bathed and -refreshed, she waited with Muriel for supper. Indeed they needed it, as -Pierson had kept them on the road for many hours on foot, making them -climb ridges, and walk over arid stretches, until they were exhausted. - -He did not wish to travel in the usual manner, as it would have been -too public, and some one might recognize him, Muriel or Dora. Of Dopey -he had no fear, for the lives of such as Dopey are like those of the -rats--mostly underground and out of sight. - -And it was part of his plan to half-starve both Muriel and Dora, but, -being in the “hotel,” he dared not give rise to suspicion by neglecting -to order food for them. - -“Mr. Duffy,” said John, “my wife and daughter are so worn out with the -trip that I would beg you to send their supper to their room, if it -can be done.” - -“Certainly it can be done, if it takes the whole outfit. I hope the -young lady is better.” - -“I fear she never will be better. Her last chance is the solitude of -the mountains, and the air.” - -“Did you come over in the stage?” - -“No, we had a rig from--from--I don’t know what the name of the place -is, but my daughter is so tender-hearted--and so difficult to manage -sometimes--that she could not bear to see the horses pulling so, and -insisted on walking. The driver told us the place was just over the -rise, so--we walked, and it _was_ a walk!” - -“I should think so. You will have your supper down here, I suppose?” - -“Oh, yes; my man and I. This does seem to be a lively place, if I could -judge by some certain sounds during the afternoon.” - -“That was nothing, only the boys having some fun with a tenderfoot. You -never saw such an outfit. A Jew with a horse--well, every boy on the -range has given it a feed since it came, and it is eating yet!” - -“Where is the tenderfoot, as you call him, now?” - -“Oh, asleep in his little bed. Maybe he won’t have a headache in the -morning! Oh, no; I guess not! And it was his first drink, too. Will you -have one, sir, on me?” - -“No, thank you. I never drink, but I’ll take a box of Henry Clays, if -you have them.” - -“I just have! You see, I keep them for the fellows from the mines. When -they come down flush, nothing else is good enough for them. Then, by -the time they have been here an hour they couldn’t tell what they’re -smoking, so I have to give them cheaper ones. But this box has never -been opened.” - -“I am glad to get it. I expect we’ll go up in the mountains as soon as -I can locate a place and get a shack. Then I’ll send to Cheyenne for -our traps and settle down for a while. Any doctors about here?” - -“No, not within thirty miles. But there is a woman here--no, an -angel--and it’s Angel we call her, and when there is sickness or -trouble she is right there. If you like, I’ll interjuce her to your -ladies the next time she comes in. She was here to-day to dinner. She -is as fine a woman as ever walked the earth, the Angel is.” - -“Thank you, but just at present I want my daughter to be kept strictly -secluded. The sight of strangers always makes her worse. I am sure that -we shall be glad to know this lady--the Angel, as you call her--later. -My wife will, I know.” - -Then Pierson took out a handful of cigars, paid for the box, and asked -Snakes to keep the box handy, as he was going to have supper and a -smoke. He signaled to Dopey and they went to the dining-room, where -Dopey astonished himself, as well as the waiters, by the quantity of -food he consumed. He could not have eaten as much in the city in a week. - -“Say, boss,” said he, in a raucous whisper, “dey’s no limit to de feed -here, is dere? An’ see what a pile I’m layin’ away. I t’ink de air -agrees wid me here.” - -“It is not the air so much as the absence from the dope-chair, so try -to get that through your head, and never touch it again.” - -“I don’t care, now, if I never do, but if I gits back on de Bowery--I -couldn’t say. Say, is de ladies eatin’?” - -“They are, I expect. Mum’s the word. Eat your supper and never talk -when there is anyone about.” - -This last was said in a tone so low that none could hear it. - -There was some speculation among the men who were regular boarders and -the miners and cowboys who generally rode in in the evening whenever -they were at liberty, and the peremptory order from Snakes to refrain -from shooting, on account of the young lady upstairs, had the effect -of a damper upon their noisy gaiety. They were filled with sympathetic -pity for the poor young girl who was so beautiful. - -In the meantime Pierson, followed by Dopey, went on up the run to smoke -and be able to concoct their plans for getting rid of Muriel and Dora. - -They passed not ten feet from the tiny tent where the bereaved father -was lying unconscious from the fumes of the abominable stuff he had -been forced to drink to amuse the men. The poor shoemaker and the -little boy lay there together, safe in the hands of the men about and -sheltered by the great mountains beyond, but they would never have -awakened to the glory of the morning had Pierson known who slept under -the tent. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -The night passed and the morning dawned bright and beautiful, and it -seemed that all nature was astir to welcome the light. There was first -a cold blue light far in the East, which swiftly changed to a purplish -pink, and this again to a rosy yellow, and then the sun rose in all its -bright beauty. - -The tops of the somber mountains took on a mellow tinge of golden -brown, and birds began to sing in every direction. Here and there along -the rugged mountains a thin line of smoke ascended, showing that there -were inhabitants along the range. The distant sound of the lowing of -cattle came faintly to the ears in the peaceful stillness of the early -morning. - -Then some one began to chop wood out back of the hotel, and this -strange sound aroused the sleeping shoemaker, and it awoke him to all -the miseries of what is vulgarly called “the morning after.” - -One bird, with a louder, more insistent song than the others, perched -on a twig near the tent, and it seemed to poor Morris Goldberg, who had -never felt anything like the agony he was now enduring, that its voice -was louder and shriller than a steam calliope. - -The suffering man crawled feebly from the tent, leaving the child -sleeping peacefully there. Slowly, and painfully holding his hand to -his splitting head, Morris crept along to the watering-trough and to -the little stream that trickled cool and clear from far up in the -mountains. - -Letting the cold water run over his aching head, and drinking a -quantity of the blessed water from the hollow of his hands, Morris sat -down on an upturned bucket and gave vent to his feelings in these words: - -“I vish dot pirt vould shut up. I nefer t’ougt a pirt in der vorld haf -such a voice--so lout. I nefer haf such a headache like dis. I vonder -if dere is any ice in Vyoming. Oh, my! oh, my! I vonder”--here he -laid his burning head against the moist rock down which the water was -trickling, and found it cool. He continued his lament: “Dank Gott! de -rocks are colt. Ah, go avay, birtie; you annoy me! Go to de Sout’--to -de pottom of it. I feel so sick, und de ice on de mountains is a -million miles avay.” - -Loney had been awakened by the birds, and now came from the tent with -an empty, black whiskey-bottle in his hands, and this he extended -toward Morris, saying: - -“Look, Mr. Goldberg, what I found in the tent.” - -“Vat is it? Money?” - -“No; it is this bottle. I know we never had one like this before.” - -“Dake it avay, Loney, und proke it against de rocks. It makes me sick -as I nefer vos yust to look at it!” - -“Yes, sir, I will. Can I do anything for you, Mr. Goldberg?” - -“No. Yes, go und look after de Jakey. Gif him some vater--oh, yes, some -vater!” - -Loney, with an uneasy fear tugging at his heart lest Mr. Goldberg -should die, went after the horse, which he found, after a long search, -in the rough stable back of the place, with his nose against a bundle -of hay which he was not even trying to eat. He looked so round and -comfortable that Loney, little as he knew of horses, was glad, for no -one can travel in the lonely places of earth with a horse as companion -without learning to love him. - -Loney led the horse to the water and let him drink; then, with a -sorrowful look at Mr. Goldberg, whose aching brow was still pressed -against the cool rock, he returned him to the stable and tied him in -front of the hay. - -Poor little Loney did not know that Shoshone Pete had seen to the -actual wants of the worn-out horse, but supposed it was what was -customary at hotels. And it was Shoshone himself who had rubbed the -tired horse down, given him a bedding of straw, which the half-starved -animal had half-eaten before morning. - -Shoshone it was, now, who went to the suffering man and gave him a -resounding slap on the shoulder, saying loudly: - -“Good-morning, pardner--I mean Mr. Wild Bill, the Bull-man.” - -“Der teuyfel!” - -“Why, what is the matter?” - -“Oh, it is de vorst sickness vot efer vos. I pe goin’ grazy! Den vot -vill pecome of little Loney? Mr. Shoshone, vot is de most tangerous -sickness of all?” - -“I don’t know.” - -“Neider do I, but I got it all right, und dot pirt is setting me mad!” - -“Oh, I’ll soon fix that,” said Shoshone, drawing his pistol, which -action brought a cry from Morris. - -“Don’t shoot! don’t shoot! For Gott’s sake don’t make dot noise!” - -“Oh, I see; you don’t feel well this morning. Why don’t you try some of -the hair of the dog that bit you?” - -With a gesture of distaste that spoke plainer than words, Morris -refused, at which Shoshone laughed. Then Morris said innocently, but -convincingly: - -“Mister, I gif you mein vort, dot dog didn’t pite me--he eat me all up!” - -“Well, what are you standing there suffering for? Come on into the -saloon and get a snifter.” - -“For Gott’s sake don’t mention it! Dot vos mein first und it shall pe -mein last. I vill die first--if I live. I vos come out here to find -mein daughter, Dora, vot vos stolen from me--her olt fader--und I haf -dot poor little Loney, und vill you dot I pecome a drinker like dot?” - -“Well, come on in and get some breakfast. You ate no dinner----” - -“Und I t’ink nefer again vill I eat.” - -As he mournfully spoke these words, the poor man took from his pocket -a stump of a pencil and a piece of paper and began to write. Shoshone -watched him a moment and then asked what he was doing. - -“I am writing my vill.” - -At the same time Morris kept brushing his hand before his eyes, as -though tormented by flies, and at last he said: - -“Nefer dit I see cockroaches dot coult fly like dot. Dey comes right in -your face!” - -“Oh, ah--there are no--that is just the effect of your headache. That -will pass off in a little while. A cup of strong coffee----” - -“Nefer, nefer shall I eat again. I shall die here--und my poor Dora----” - -Here the unhappy man broke down utterly and wept scalding tears of such -unfeigned sorrow that Shoshone was greatly touched. - -“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked of the sorrowing man. - -“Yes. Will you take care of Loney, yes? He is a poor chilt, not quite -right in his head, but good. He haf neider fader nor mudder, and I gif -you Jake, mein horse. Dot Loney, he is goot und he vill vork for you -ven he get a leetle fatter.” - -“All right, pardner. That goes.” - -“So does de horse, but not very goot. Dot horse, he neets more t’ings -to eat, but ve been very poor lately, und de mens at de next place -behint say dot dere vos lots of grass und t’ings here, und dot dey puts -cream on de horse’s oats efery morning, mit hot piskits und peefsteak -und parsley at noon. I don’t t’ink so, do you?” - -Shoshone was trying hard to keep a straight face. He now began to feel -ashamed of the part he had taken in tormenting this poor man, and, -above all, one who was “one of the craft” of operators. He determined -that from now on he would act as his friend. - -Just as Shoshone turned, there was a sudden cloud of dust, and a horse -came galloping up the road, and, as it approached, they saw a young -man on its back, with his elbows and knees flying up and down, and in -another minute the whole outfit resolved itself into Bennie--red and -dusty, but undoubtedly Bennie: - -“Here I am, Papa Goldberg! Here I am!” shouted Bennie, as he tumbled -off the horse and rushed to greet his friend. - -“Oh, de Bennie! I peen glat to see you! Haf you got any headache -powders?” - -“Yes; here they are. I got your telegram and I followed. Have you any -news of Dora?” - -“No, Bennie; none, but somehow I keep on dis vay und I t’ink I vill -find her yet.” Then, turning to Shoshone: “If I die, Mister, please put -on de stone, ‘Vilt Bill, he lif two hours; den he die!’” - -“All right, pardner.” - -“Oh, I must haf a glass of vater, to take de powters. Vere can I get de -glass?” - -“Go to the saloon----” - -“Is dere no oder veres?” - -“You can go around the back of the house and get one at the kitchen.” - -“Den dot is vere I shall go. Come, Bennie, I vould not alone go. Oh, -Mister, Mister! please don’t do vit’ de Bennie like vot you do mit me. -He is de betrothed of mein Dora vot vas stolen und I vish him to lif to -hunt for her. Please gif me your vord.” - -“I promise you,” said Shoshone, waiting for an introduction, in due -form, to Bennie. - -He liked the frank young face of the “betrothed” of the lost Dora. But -the shoemaker had not learned the etiquette of the range yet, and, -with several groans, he took Bennie’s arm and they went around to the -kitchen door for the glass of water. - -Shoshone had had his breakfast and so sat down upon an upturned bucket -and lighted his companionable old pipe, and ruminated as he smoked. As -he sat there, Loney came back, supposing he would find Mr. Goldberg, -but as he was not at the watering-place the boy went to the tent and -looked in, and then turned, frightened, as he saw it was empty. - -“Hallo, youngster!” said Shoshone kindly. - -“How do you do, Mister?” said Loney. “Did you see Mr. Goldberg--I mean -Mr. Wild Bill? Which way did he go?” - -“Oh, he’ll be back in a minute. He’s all right. Say, kid, who is your -friend, anyway, and what brought him here. Come, now, tell me the -truth.” - -“I always tell the truth, sir. His name is Mr. Morris Goldberg, and he -is a shoemaker from New York. A man came there--Mr. ‘Cactus Bill’--and -another man shot him in the back. I saw him, and the bad man took -Dora away. The bad man had another bad man along and that man hit me -here--see--and they carried Dora away; and Bennie--that’s Dora’s steady -company--don’t know where we are.” - -“‘Cactus Bill,’ you say? What became of him?” - -“Mr. Goldberg had a funeral for him, ’cause he had no friends. ‘Cactus -Bill’ gave Mr. Goldberg a paper that he said was about a gold mine -out here and it was for him, and when all of Mr. Goldberg’s money was -spent, looking for Dora, we came here to find the mine so, maybe, we -could get some more money. Say, what ails Mr. Goldberg this morning?” - -“What shall never ail you, little man, if I can help it,” said Shoshone -contritely. “Ahem! Have you had your breakfast yet?” - -“No, sir; not yet.” - -“Well, come along and we’ll have our breakfast together, and you shall -tell me all about this Dora, and all, while we eat.” - -“I thought I saw you at the table when I took Jake back. Say, he looks -fine this morning. You ought to see him.” - -Shoshone slapped his leg with his hat in great enjoyment of something, -but all he said was: - -“Folks have to eat a lot out here.” - -“I believe you,” said Loney, “for I’ve been hungry ever since we hit -the trail. And so is Mr. Goldberg, only he pretends he isn’t. Business -isn’t very good in his line out here,” added the child reflectively. - -Then they went, hand in hand, to the dining-room, Shoshone feeling a -distinct thrill of pleasure at the confiding clasp of those little -fingers. Loney felt a great confidence in this big man who had such -kind eyes. Neither of them would have felt so happy had they seen -the two evil faces peering at them from between two great rocks -half-covered by creeping vines. - -As Shoshone and the child disappeared into the house, the two men came -down to the ground, and John, with a face white with anger, hissed: - -“You liar! You see the boy is not dead! That Jew is here, seeking his -daughter, and the fool she was to marry! All in the same house with us! -A fine fix you have got us in!” - -“I t’ought I’d croaked him! He fell like a lump o’ lead, and when I -dragged him he never moved. What’s to be done? Say it, and I’ll do it.” - -“Our lives are not worth a wisp of straw! If these rough Westerners had -but an inkling of this, we’d adorn that lone tree over there in a short -time. They have such absurd notions about women here.” - -“Say, don’t talk like dat. It gives me a sore t’roat. Say, what’s the -matter of turning the gal loose. She’s daffy, anyhow, and if dey find -her it’ll be all right, and, if dey don’t, de mountain lions will find -her for sure.” - -“Oh, come on. I must figure it out some way. No one must see us here. -Our very lives depend upon it. I have it. We can get out the same way -_we_ did--out the back window, upstairs and on to the rocks. It is our -only chance. Let us get safely away from here, and out on the range, -then let him follow. Or, rather, we will follow, to ‘Cactus Bill’s’ -claim. I knew he had one, but, drunk or sober, he never gave his secret -away.” - -“We’re in a hole, cull,” said Dopey gloomily, while John said grimly: - -“You are right. So long as Dora and that boy, Loney, live. Once out -of this, and their lives shall never stand to threaten me with the -electric chair. Come on; we must not be seen.” - -They dodged back again behind the rocks and crept along up the run, out -of sight. - -Shoshone left the boy for a few moments while he came into the -bar-room, intending to head off any possible trouble for Bennie, in -case any threatened, and he said: - -“Hello, Snakesy! you trying to play the millionaire. Where’s the rest -of the boys?” - -“Gone down to the spring-house to lift a spring-rafter. Have something?” - -“Not now. Where’s Wild Bill, the Bull-man?” - -“Setting on a rock out there, pouring water over his head with a -tin-cup and taking powders, I think. There’s a young chap with him, a -stranger----” - -“Yes, and he is to be let alone. You hear me! let alone, that young -chap. Say, I’m going to tell you something, and that is----” - -And here Shoshone told Snakes all he had learned about Morris Goldberg, -his quest, and the fact that he was caring for this homeless, orphaned -boy, and how he had buried “Cactus Bill,” whom they had all known well. -They all knew that Bill had a claim somewhere in the mountains, but -no one knew where, and, in spite of Bill’s reputation for a quick and -sure shot, he was generally liked. It was much to these men to know -that the poor, inoffensive man outside had given him a decent burial, -and, with quick remorse for their unfeeling joke of the previous day, -they planned to wipe out the memory of it by kindness. So Bennie was to -be spared, and the “house” was to supply Goldberg, Loney and the horse -with all they needed until they moved on. They never do anything by -halves out West. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -There was the sound of a familiar “whoo-hoo” outside, and Helen -Pierson, whom the dwellers in this part of the country knew as the -Angel, came bounding into the room. - -“Hello, boys! Whoo-hoo!” - -“It’s the Angel!” said Shoshone, springing forward to meet her. - -“Good-morning, Shoshone,” said she, cordially. - -“Morning, Angel. What you doin’ down so early?” - -“On my way to Silver Bill’s. I told them I’d come back to-day. He’s out -of tobacco, too, and I want some to take him.” - -“Won’t it--won’t it be bad for the kids?” asked Shoshone, with an -anxious look. - -“Oh, no; he can smoke out-of-doors. As for the boy, he’ll smoke some -day himself, and as to the girl, she’ll have to get used to it some -day, anyhow.” - -“With our compliments and best wishes, Angel. We’ve got a case of -preserves here from the East. If it was not asking too much of you, now -would you give Mrs. Silver Bill a dozen jars?” - -“I’ll carry one over. That’s all I can manage to-day.” - -“I’ll send a man over with the rest in the morning, and some sardines, -some canned salmon and Boston beans--just the things for an invalid, -aren’t they?” - -“Well, they will be next week. She will be on toast and gruel all this -one.” - -“Oh--ah--yes, of course. Well, I am proud that she--ah--well--give her -my best respects. I’ll get the jelly.” - -“Mine, too,” said Shoshone. Then, as he saw that they were alone, -Shoshone took a step or two nearer her, saying: - -“You are the best woman God ever made, Angel. That’s what you are!” - -“What makes you say that, Shoshone?” - -“You won’t get mad if I tell you?” - -“Why, no. What is it?” - -“I know I’m kinder low-down and rough, Angel, but I hain’t never -stole nobody’s hosses nor branded cattle that wan’t mine, and, as for -drinking, I’m willing to stop that at once. I never cared for it, -anyway, but what else is there to do, out here? Will you, Angel?” - -“Will I what, Shoshone?” - -“Now you won’t get mad at me?” - -“Mr. Shoshone, speak out! What do you want me to do?” - -“My heart is all empty a-longin’ for you, and I want you to crawl in -forevermore. I want you to be my wife.” - -“Dear God! what is he saying? Oh, I can’t, Shoshone, I can’t!” - -“Yes, you can; if you only will.” - -“But I can’t, Shoshone, my good friend, and I will tell you why. I was -married once, and my husband deserted me for another woman, and stole -my child, my little boy. So I am not free, you see.” - -“Yes, I see,” said Shoshone, swallowing hard. “Don’t say nothin’ more, -Angel. I’m sorry I said a word. Try and forget it, will you, Angel? -But if ever you need someone to fight or die for you, jes’ call on -Shoshone, and I’ll do it, so help me--I will!” - -Keeping his back to her, so that she could not see the bitter -disappointment in his face, Shoshone started away, when Helen called -him. - -“Are you going away, Shoshone?” - -“Yest, jes’ for a little while; jes’ out there in the rocks and -lonesomeness. I wouldn’t want a woman to see me cry--and I’m d----d -near it!” he added under his breath as he hastily escaped, while she -held out her hands, saying sadly: - -“You may never know it, Shoshone, but if I were free I would be your -wife--faithful and loving.” - -Then, hearing footsteps, Helen started out to meet Snakes who was -returning with a jar of startlingly large proportions. - -It was Goldberg and Bennie whose steps Helen had heard, and they came -into the saloon from the dining-room, where Bennie had persuaded Mr. -Goldberg to drink a cup of coffee. His own appetite needed no urging. -The elder man wanted some tobacco, and, as they came in, he said: - -“Und, take my atvice, Bennie, nefer touch it. Let it alone, strictly. -It is no goot. Viskey is de bummest stuff, A1, double Xs.” - -“No fear, Mr. Goldberg. I never use it. But, tell me----” - -And then the same old question of the disappearance of Dora came -uppermost again. - -“De only news I effer hat vos dot dey tooket her to Cheyenne, und den -I vatch und look und hunt, und von day I heard dot a party of four -dot looket like dem haf come dis vay. So I come, too. Ah, Bennie! -vot ve haf sufferet--Loney und I! Ah, Gott! und if I shall lif to pe -twice as olt as Methusela I shall nefer forget dis place vot dey call -Hellandgone. Poor Dora! if dey haf pring her here ve nefer vill find -her!” - -And Dora was not ten feet away from her father and lover, lying in a -stupor from the potion which Muriel had found it necessary to give her -to calm her nerves, for some subtle instinct seemed to warn the poor -girl that her loved ones were near. - -While Morris and Bennie were waiting for Snakesy Duffy to return, Helen -came back for the tobacco she had wished to take with her. She started, -on seeing the shoemaker, whose strong features were not of a mould to -be easily forgotten. After one sharp look she advanced to him, saying: - -“It is! It is my preserver! Praise Heaven! I see you again!” - -“You are mistakenet, matam. I gannot efen preserve meinselluf. I am de -wrong man. I don’t know you.” - -“Why, you are Morris Goldberg, of New York, are you not?” - -“I am if I am lifing, but how you know me I cannot see.” - -“I can tell you. Because you took a poor, forsaken, heart-broken wreck -and taught her that it was never too late to mend. You helped me to -come out here and reform, and Heaven will bless you for it. I haven’t -touched a drop since that day.” - -“Dot’s right. Don’t efer touch it again, and I von’t, eider. Vell, -vell! vot for a change. I vouldn’t effer haf known you.” - -“I am out here, alone, with the mountains, the sky, the birds and -flowers, and the wild creatures. I live close--oh, very close--to -Nature, in a little shack. I never come down, except when there is -sickness or accident--some one that needs care and devotion. Those are -all the riches I have, but I find them enough. You see me well and -strong, quite a different being from the miserable creature you saved. -My brain is clear, my health perfect, and I owe it all to you. But what -are you doing here?” - -“Mein chilt, my daughter, Dora, vos stolen! Und I am out here looking -for her. I t’ink she cannot be much farder avay. I haf a feelings in -mein heart dot she vill pe fount, but it is a long time.” - -Just then Shoshone came into the room. There was a strange gleam in -his eyes, and a new manner quite unknown to Helen. He walked quietly, -but there was a suppressed excitement in his walk and look, but he kept -quiet. Helen was saying: - -“Your daughter stolen! How I wish to Heaven that I could help you! Have -you any idea who took her away?” - -“From what de Loney say, it vos Dopey Mack und de tall smooth-faced man -vot vos in mein shop de first day you comet.” - -“What did your daughter look like, pardner?” asked Shoshone quietly. - -“Like von of de angels dot de goot Gott lofes de pest. She is small, -und dark und peautiful, mit big black eyes und such a muchness of dark -hair--yah, she is peautiful, ain’t she, Bennie? Und she sing--yust like -de pirts on de trees, don’t it, Bennie?” - -“By the living Lord, I’m right!” said Shoshone earnestly, “for -yesterday she asked us, ‘Has any of you seen Bennie? He is gone away so -long.’ That’s what she said.” - -“Vot do you mean, Mister?” asked Morris pitifully, clasping his hands. - -“There were some strangers came here yesterday--two men, two women. The -big one was said to be mother of the little young one, but they didn’t -look alike and, by the jumping jeeswax! they’re in the house right now. -The small one looks like what you say, and they say she’s crazy. She -sings something about ‘Tell me that you love me,’ or something like -that.” - -“It’s Dora! It is Dora!” said Bennie, the tears gushing from his eyes. -“It is her song that she always sings.” - -“Are you sure, Mister? For if I get disappointed now, it vill kill me,” -said the father, imploringly. - -“Yes, I tell you, they are here now. Right upstairs there. They ’roused -my suspicions from the first. The women keep in the room all the time. -I know I’m right.” - -“In dere, are dey? Vell, ve vill haf dem out!” said Morris, with grim -determination, starting for the staircase. - -“Be careful, pardner, of that kind of cattle. They’ll shoot you on -sight!” - -“Den let dem shoot! I can die to safe mein chilt!” - -The father started toward the stairs, but Shoshone took him grimly but -gently, saying: - -“Wait a minute, pardner. When you want to trap a fox, you must stop -up all the holes. Angel, guard this door; you, young man, take this -pistol. Go out through the back and watch there. I’ll go behind the -house. There is a window there that opens out upon the rocks. You, her -father, go on upstairs and open the front door. If you can’t open it, -break it in! Meantime I’ll have them covered from the window. Now go, -and be careful!” - -At the word of command, Bennie and the Angel took their positions, -while Morris went up the stairs, his heart beating to suffocation. - -When he reached the landing he saw that the door to the back room was -open, but that of the front was closed. A hasty glance showed that the -back room was empty. He knocked at the door, crying: - -“Dora! Dora! it is de fader! Dora! Dora! I am coming!” - -There was no reply, and those downstairs heard a mighty crash, as -though the door had been burst open by one blow! Then an anguished cry: - -“Dora! she is gone! De room is empty! Mein Gott! dey haf gone!” - -When the others reached the room, the bereft father was kneeling, -sobbing by the little table where lay a bit of blue ribbon. - -“Dora! Dora!” he sobbed. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -As the reader knows, John Pierson and Dopey had hidden from the hotel, -among the rocks, and sneaked around until they reached the point from -which anyone could enter or leave the hotel by the window which was -built for that express purpose. It served as a convenient fire-escape, -as when one of the wooden buildings takes fire in that dry season, no -one could save himself by the stairway. And, perhaps on account of -possible fights between rival cowboys, it was a handy means of exit. - -Pierson had dashed into Muriel’s room and said: - -“Quick! gather your traps and come! We are tracked!” - -Giving her no time to think, he seized the food that was spread on -the table and thrust it into his pockets. Then he lifted Dora in his -powerful arms and sprang out to the open window, and from there stepped -easily to the rock, turning only to see if Dopey was following. - -Muriel had taken her hat and wrap and that of Dora in her arms, and -followed Pierson quickly, as she did not believe him, and thought this -but a subterfuge to get Dora out into the wild gorges of the forbidding -black mountains. - -Dopey had the gripsack, and they easily made their escape. - -All day they traveled up and down slopes, hills and rugged mountains -until even John was tired and willing to sit down. He divided the food -evenly between them, and they were glad of even that scanty fare. - -Dopey was manifestly dissatisfied. He muttered to himself that it -wasn’t right to take a fellow away from his dope, which was meat and -drink both, and bring him here where the mountain air made him hungry -all the time, and then choke off his regular meals. - -Just as it was growing dark, they came upon an abandoned shack and went -in boldly. John, who had lived several years in these places, knew that -even if the owner should come he would bid them welcome to all there -was there, and soon he had built a fire on the open hearth, and looked -about to see what there was to eat. - -There was a bunk in one end of the shack, with plenty of clean leaves, -and in a box hung to a rafter in the middle of the cabin he found a -can of coffee, another of sugar, a bag of prepared flour and a side of -bacon. Their immediate necessity was thus provided for. - -Dora scarcely knew that they had changed their location and continued -singing as before, but at last the song jarred upon the nerves of her -captor, and he said: - -“Stop that! Stop that singing! I won’t have it. You’ll have the whole -outfit down upon us like a hungry pack. Stop, I say, or I’ll gag you!” - -“Let her alone! Let her alone, I say!” said Muriel, springing forward -between them. “Poor thing! she does not know what she is doing. She’ll -go to sleep soon.” - -“Was it wrong to sing to Bennie? He loves that song. I used to sing it -to him before he died. Did you know Bennie is dead? He is, because he -would come when I call if he was not dead. Let me show you: ‘Bennie! -Bennie!’ You see, he does not answer, and I’ve called and called papa -too, but he doesn’t come, either. Do you think he is dead, too? It -would be too bad!” - -“And you--you human vulture! You would harm this poor, helpless girl!” -said Muriel to John. - -Dora heard this conversation clearly, but her benumbed faculties could -not seem to understand the import of it, for she turned and, laying -her dark head on Muriel’s bosom, said: - -“Let me tell you a secret, lady. I saw two men, and they came down the -steps to my father’s shop, and they killed a man! They shot him, and I -saw him die!” - -“Now are you satisfied, you interfering cat?” hissed John, with angry -vehemence. “I told you she had flashes of returning reason. I have -watched her closely and know that we have everything to fear, and -I hope you are convinced now that it is unsafe to keep her longer. -Every minute she is liable to remember me as the man. Here you stand -protecting her as though she were your own, and we all in danger of -our lives! There is but one thing to be said and that is, her life or -ours! We are in danger every minute we keep her! She must be silenced -forever! And now!” - -“She shall die in God’s own good time, John Pierson, for so long as -I live you shall never lay a finger on her to do her harm! Is it not -enough that you have dragged her away from those she held dear, and -have thereby destroyed her reason? Listen well to my words, for I will -see that she is protected against any further danger. The poor girl!” - -“What is your objection? Are you jealous? If that is the case, I can -tell you that you have no cause now for all I seek now is to get rid of -her. I don’t care how, only so she never crosses my path again. So what -is your object in protecting her, if I may be so bold?” - -“I will tell you. My life has been all that is bad and wicked, and when -it comes to an end I want this one good deed to be marked to my credit -there where she will go. Can you understand that?” - -“Say, cull, she ort to jine the Salvation Army,” said Dopey, in a husky -whisper. - -“I wish to Heaven I had before I ever met you two, for since that time -it has been nothing but drink and rob and steal, and now it is murder! -And, God help me! I am accessory after the fact, a branded criminal -with an awful charge staring me in the face! Oh, if I could only live -my life over again, to be pure and good--like this poor child.” - -“Say, Muriel, I have just one piece of advice to give you, and that is -to let up on this racket or it’ll be a sort of deathbed repentance, -and you’d better be warned! And as to the Salvation Army business, we -can have that right here.” And here the wretch clasped his hands as in -prayer and said, in a sing-song voice; “Brother Dopey, will you lead -us in prayer? Halleluia!” - -“I wouldn’t know where to begin, Brudder Pierson,” said Dopey, grinning -with delight as he saw Muriel wince at the coarse vulgarity. - -“Scoff and rail, you two, but the day is not far distant when you both -will look death in the face! Then your ribald lips will stiffen in -fear, your eyes start out in horror, and you will cry aloud in vain for -pardon to the God you despised in life! I seem to see you now, both -strung up by the neck to the dead branch of a tree that has borne such -carrion before and both go swinging around in the wind! That will be -your end, and it will come soon, I feel it and know it. John Pierson, -if there is one single spark of manhood left in you, spare this poor -girl, and let me take her back to the hotel and leave her there. I will -go alone with her, and you and Dopey can go where you like. No one -shall pursue or harm you.” - -“A very pretty fairy-story. It does you credit. But, in the language of -the Philistines about here, not much! She has cost me too much to give -her up so easily. So save your breath to cool your coffee.” - -“Say, cull, what will de gal do when she has to eat bacon?” - -“Oh, she’ll eat it all right--if she must--and she doesn’t know what -she is eating, anyhow. Don’t bother me with trifles.” - -“Please, lady, please,” began Dora, and Muriel asked her what she -wanted. - -“Can’t I go to bed? I am so tired. So very tired. I never used to be -tired at home--I cooked and kept it all so nice and clean.” - -“There! You see what I told you,” said John to Muriel, “she is -beginning to remember!” - -“No wonder, poor child! that you are tired after this last week of -travel and hardships. Yes, dear, we will rest awhile. Here is a nice, -soft bed. Lie down and I will cover you. John, you and Dopey can sleep -outside, as you have been doing all last week. There is not room enough -in here. Come, dear, lie down.” - -With a bad grace, John and Dopey left the shack and laid themselves -down beneath the stars to sleep, but both against the door, so neither -of the prisoners could escape. - -John had sent the Parthian shot after Muriel as he called through the -door to advise her to “go to the devil, for all he cared.” - -“When I leave you, John Pierson, I shall be going away from him as fast -as I can. Understand that.” - -“Say, boss, there’ll be something doing and dat pretty quick. Dat -woman’s on her ear, and when wimmen gets on deir ears dey’s allus -something doing. You’d better be on de lookout for her. She looks -like dem she-tigers I seen in de circus once. De he-ones took t’ings -easy-like, but de she-ones was allus on de lookout for a chance. An’ -she is looking for her chance.” - -“I know her like a book, Dopey, and she will get no mercy from me if -she tries any monkey business. Yes, you are right. I don’t know why I -have been such a tender-hearted idiot. I’ve had a couple of chances -to kill them both, and wasted them. Self-defence is the first law of -nature and our only safe way is to finish them both now, and be done -with it!” - -“Den youse is smokin’ the proper kind of dope, and de only kind dat -will win out for us and keep us out of the fireworks settee. It is de -only t’ing to do, and de sooner de quicker.” - -John smoked in silence for awhile, stretched out full length on the -ground, while Dopey lay wishing for his almost forgotten luxury. -Finally John whispered to Dopey: - -“I have it. I will let them think we have gone on up the mountain to -reconnoitre and then Muriel may try to escape. If they come out of -the door I will fire, and that way no one will ever know who did it, -even should some spy see them fall. And if they don’t come out we will -wait till they are asleep and set fire to the shack. It will burn like -tinder. In that way we shall be free. What do you think?” - -“Won’t de blaze be seen?” asked Dopey. - -“I don’t care if it is. It is so far away that no one could get here in -time to put it out and if they do find them it will be too late to do -them any good. Well, I’ll tell Muriel.” - -John knocked at the flimsy door and as Muriel asked what was wanted -John said that they were going up the ravine, to reconnoitre their -route for the next day, and that she should keep the door shut, as they -might be gone until near daylight. Muriel answered that she would do -so. Then the two men drew away from the shack, but kept in view of the -door with drawn pistols, but Muriel had grown so suspicious of John -that she never for one moment thought of taking her helpless charge -from the shelter of the shack, poor as it was. So she sat down by the -bunk and held the little hand in hers until Dora, after some more words -of her home and Bennie, fell asleep. - -How long Muriel sat there she had no means of telling, but, as she -scented treachery, she never felt more fully awake. Hours passed, -and she still watched. The men outside began to think she had fallen -asleep. Suddenly the watchers listened and, after a moment of suspense, -they became sure they heard voices, and coming in their direction! This -put a new phase on the matter. It was doubtless a searching-party and -they had been tracked to this place. There was now but one thing to do, -and that was to get the two women out at once and start again on their -wandering. The voices approached and then receded, and finally died -away in the distance. - -It would be too dangerous now to set fire to the shack, and equally -so to fire off a pistol, so for the time Muriel and Dora were left in -peace. Muriel slept sitting by the side of the bunk with her weary head -against the rough wall, after she had seen day was breaking. - -In the morning she felt refreshed, and it was she who cooked the meagre -allowance of bacon and bread, and made the coffee. - -Four days they remained there, keeping as still as humans can, with -John or Dopey all the time on the lookout. The fifth day John saw a -thin spiral of smoke not more than a mile from where they were, and -as he watched it he noticed that someone, an Indian probably, was -making signals with it. It would rise in straight lines for a time, -then suddenly cease, only to rise again in increased volume. This he -knew was a signal among the Indians, but he did not know their code, -although he knew enough to be sure that it was time to leave there. He -determined to go South with his party, and at the first opportunity he -would rid himself of Muriel first and then Dora, whom he had begun to -hate on account of the trouble she made him and the fact that she had -seen the murder and was now beginning to remember. - -So he roughly told Muriel to prepare to start. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -The very day that had witnessed the departure of John and Muriel with -their helpless burden and Dopey, who was grumbling constantly at the -unwonted hardships he was undergoing, a new party came to the shack. -The ashes were scarcely cold on the rude hearth when Bennie and Loney -came climbing painfully to the door. Loney was nearly dead from the -fatigue and half-sobbed, as he said: - -“Oh, Bennie! let us rest a little. That was an awful climb coming that -way! It would have been easier to come right over the biggest mountain -all at once. Can you see the rest?” - -“No,” said Bennie, cheerfully, “how could I see them when they must be -back of the bend in the trail? They are coming, all right.” - -“Do you think they could get lost on the way?” asked the child, -fearfully. - -“No; now don’t you worry over them. That lady, the Angel, as they call -her here, knows every inch of the ground in this place. She told us -how to come, and if she is behind it is because she is helping Mr. -Goldberg with his tent and things.” - -Bennie here lifted his own burden again, to see if he could not have -carried a few pounds’ weight, to relieve the older man. - -“It is too bad we had to sell Jake to Shoshone. He was such a help,” -sighed the boy, regretfully. - -“Yes, it was too bad, as you say, but we could not feed him, and a -horse dies if he is not fed regularly.” - -“Isn’t she a nice lady to come with us, Bennie?” - -“She is that,” said Bennie, with convincing emphasis. “She told Mr. -Goldberg that she knew every foot of the way and all the mountains, -like you know the streets in the city. She can show him just where his -claim is located, because he showed her the paper that the dead man -had given him in New York. It is like magic to me. However anyone ever -knows how to cross the road in this place, I don’t see. Ah, if we could -only get a trace of Dora!” - -Here Bennie again grew so melancholy that Loney crept to his side and -slipped his bony little hand into that of the man, who closed his own -over it, and somehow felt comforted for the unspoken sympathy. - -“But, Bennie, if we have to stop to dig for gold, how can we be looking -for Dora, too?” - -“You don’t seem to understand, Loney. We have no more money, any of us. -We cannot continue our search without money. Mr. Goldberg hopes that he -will find gold in the claim and in that way have money enough to search -for Dora. It needs money to telegraph to every town on the map of -Wyoming, to see if such a party has reached there, and where they went, -and to follow them if they have gone, and to bring them to justice if -they are caught. Oh, I hope he will find gold there, and then have -enough to travel the wide world over, if need be, to find Dora!” - -“Does it cost money to go on a train? And do we have to pay when we eat -in a hotel?” - -“You bet!” said Bennie, wishing that he was at any kind of a hotel -where he could get a good meal. - -“Then what am I going to do? I had dinner and breakfast at the hotel, -and did not know it had to be paid for. Mr. Goldberg gives every one a -dinner, and just ask him if ever he is paid for it. He gives it, but I -don’t know what to do.” - -“How did you happen to go into the dining-room alone?” - -“I didn’t. Shoshone--I mean Mr. Shoshone--took me in both times.” - -“Oh, then, you are all right, and he is responsible for both meals, -and I guess he is responsible, all right. He seems to be a man of some -consequence out here, and I think he is a good fellow. He seems to like -you, too.” - -Just then the two, who were sitting down to rest, saw the bent form of -Morris Goldberg coming around the bend in the trail, and Bennie sprang -forward to help him, forgetting that he had carried the heaviest pack -all along. Morris was heard complaining: - -“Are ve nefer going to reach der place, laty? It’s a vonder dey don’t -put in elevators in a place like dis. It is now von mont’ dot ve haf -tramped like dis und nefer seem to get nearer, und I am nearly voret -out. I vish ve hat not sold Jake, but den--ve haf to eat. But he vos a -goot horse, und he vos petter as nodings to carry t’ings.” - -“Have courage. We have now only about four miles further to go, and -then we can camp upon your claim and settle down to work while others -look for your daughter. All the boys will do that. I know that Shoshone -intends to telegraph all over, to head them off.” - -“Ah, he is a goot fellow, dot Shoshone is. No vonder golt is so dear, -ven you haf to climb to vere it is. How long you t’ink it vill take to -fint it, laty?” - -“No one can tell as to that. Sometimes it takes weeks and months, and -sometimes it is found right on the surface. I knew one man and he -worked at his claim four years, finding just barely enough to live on -in the poorest way, and everyone thought he had lost his reason, being -alone so long and being always disappointed. Then, one day, when he had -about given up hope, he stepped on a loose stone, and as he fell he -found his mine. And it is one of the richest in the State. Others seem -to stumble into good luck at once, and in a week will be rich. So be of -good cheer. These mountains, dark and forbidding as they look, are full -of gold that will be found some day. We will get there in time.” - -“May de goot Gott put dis one on de top, for den I can haf de money to -hunt for mein poor Dora! Laty, I vonder if you know vot it is to lose -your chilt? Oxcuse me, I know you do. I forgot, but dis is eating my -heart out all de time. I cannot bear it much more!” - -“Ah, here is little Loney”--and as he caressed the curly hair, Helen -continued: “Only Heaven knows what I would give to see my child again! -But it has been more than ten times as long as that since your child -was stolen. I fear he is dead! my poor little boy, my baby.” - -“Well, you know I promised you that I would be your little boy now; -anyhow, till you find your own little boy. Then--I suppose--you won’t -want me any more?” - -“Ah, yes I would; yes I would, for you are a comfort to me in my -sorrow.” - -The child nestled close to Helen, who passed her arm around him and -drew him close to her yearning heart. Nothing told this mother, bereft -of her only one, that she held him to her heart, nor did the numbed -intellect of the boy tell him that this was his mother. And yet they -were mother and son, and destiny was planning to again divide their -ways. - -Morris sat down weakly, in almost the same place where John had -watched the previous night, but his unused eyes failed to show him the -cigar-butt that lay almost at his feet. He said, gloomily: - -“How shall ve do apout somedings to eat, laty? Dere is not much left. -Oh, de Bennie! nefer mindt, nefer mindt, I can get along mit very -little--yust so dot ve fint dot mine.” - -“Hooray!” shouted Bennie, who had been exploring in the shack. “I have -found bacon, coffee, flour and sugar. Now, what do you think of that?” - -“I dink dot ve haf no right to touch vot belongs to oders.” - -“But you don’t know the rules, Mr. Goldberg. Whatever is in this shack -is for the benefit of the person who comes here for shelter. We have a -perfect right to use what is here. I will cook some, and then we will -go on. We will have plenty, for the mountains are full of game. I have -tramped for weeks and found all I wanted, and there must be as much -now. We can get some flour and coffee occasionally and live off the -game for the rest.” - -“Dot’s all right, so long vot you are mit us, but ven you be gone ve -shall go hungry, for I could not shoot a pirt if mein life tependet -upon it. Yah, you are right. Ve vill be petter to eat somedings.” - -As Helen went to cut the bacon, to fry, she was astonished to see that -it showed that a piece had been cut from it, and that the hearth showed -evidence of a recent fire. But she said nothing, and proceeded to -prepare a thick cake of the flour, to bake in the pan, after which she -would fry the bacon. The coffee would cook at the same time. She went -outside, to gather some dry wood, and as she stooped down to pick up -one piece she found the stump of the cigar; and, in some inscrutable -way, she associated this fragment with her recreant husband. It was -just this way that the ends were always chewed, and smoked just so far. -And it was fresh. It had not lain long in this place, for it showed -neither dust nor was it dry. John Pierson had passed by this place, -Helen felt sure, but why? - -With the habit of silence induced by the solitary life in the -mountains, Helen kept her discovery to herself, and in a short time -they were all eating their repast thus miraculously provided. And -neither Morris nor Bennie thought about the forbidden flesh until it -was all eaten, so sharp had been their hunger and so many had been -the events crowded into their lives recently. When they did realize -it, they were contrite, but they recognized the virtue of necessity. -In this place, as in all mines, bacon is the mainstay, without which -nothing could be done. - -After the meagre but satisfying dinner was finished, Helen put the -remains of the bacon and flour back into the hanging-box and they -prepared to continue their journey. Even Bennie was silent and somber, -and Loney was so tired that his legs trembled, even when Helen held her -sustaining arm around him. She began to wonder how this strange trio -could manage to live the life of hardship before them, and said as -much to Morris, who replied: - -“Ah, I must do it; and, since I do it for Dora, it is not going to pe -too hart for me. I vill vork so hart as nefer vos to fint de golt, und -mit dot I can soon fint her. Come, childrens, ve must go on along. De -sooner ve start, de sooner ve get dere. Und den ve rest to-night und -get busy to-morrow. I vish ve hat Jake vonce more.” - -“Do you think you will surely be able to stand the work, Mr. -Goldberg--alone?” - -“Hafen’t I got Bennie and Loney? Vot more do I vant, oxcept a -putcher-shop und a crocery close py. De question of vere de meals is to -come from is vot bodders me in my mind.” - -“I wanted to say that I will stay up here a short time until you learn -how to manage. I am a good hunter and think we can keep enough food on -hand to keep us from starvation.” - -Bennie plodded on gloomily ahead, saying nothing, but bending his -strong young back under the burden of impedimenta, among them a -complete shoemaker’s outfit--all save the bench. - -“Able to stant it,” mused the father; “yes, I vill stant it, and vork -mein fingers to de pone, to find de golt, so I can find mein Dora!” - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -Two weeks passed by after the little party of Morris, Helen, Bennie -and Loney had gone to the mine designated on the paper which had been -given to Morris. These two weeks would outweigh a year in any other -place or time. Every morning found Morris at work, digging with pick -and shovel, but he made no progress, for either he had not reached the -proper place or there was not the gold that “Cactus Bill” had thought -there was, something that happens with the most experienced miners -sometimes. There being no money to purchase food with, and no handy -market, it fared badly with the novices in mining. Helen went out early -every morning and returned late at night with her gun, but it would -seem as if all the game in the mountains had left for another State, -for she found next to nothing, and the little camp was rapidly becoming -the abode of hunger--gaunt and grim. The shoemaker sat down by the -side of the place where he had been digging and wiped the drops of -perspiration from his brow as he said to Loney, who was always by his -side: - -“It’s no use, Loney, ve haf vorked two weeks, and fount nodings at all. -It is entless, and all ve get is tired. I vork so hart vot I can, und -mit efery blow I pray to de good Gott to show me de golt. But I fint -it not. Und ven I fint it not, I nefer fint mein Dora! Here I am mit -you und Bennie in dis strange landt, mitout moneys, mitout home, and -hungry. All ve haf left is von small piece of dry bread.” - -“And I am so hungry, Mr. Goldberg; so very, very hungry! Is it almost -time to eat?” - -“Yes, Loney, it is time. Vait a minute und I vill go by the ice-chest -und get de dinner. Don’t worry, Loney, de Bennie and de Helen dey both -haf gone to hunt for de game mit deir guns, und sure dey get someding -dis time.” - -“They went yesterday, too, and didn’t bring anything back. Why don’t -you send to the store for something?” - -“Oh, mein boy, dere is not a store mithin a hundred miles avay, und if -dere pe von I haf no money. I must fint de golt--I must fint it. If -dere vos efen a telegraph-line--but how could I telegraph for somedings -to eat? Vell, vait, Loney, till I bring de breat.” - -This argument, so convincing to the old man, was not at all so to the -child. But his docile mind made him rely upon the words of Mr. Goldberg -like on the rising of the sun--a certainty. - -The shoemaker went to the shack and soon returned with a quarter of a -loaf of stale bread. He looked at it sadly, saying the while: - -“Oh, my! oh, my! The bakers must be on a strike; eh, Loney? There -isn’t much, und ve must divide it up into four parts, for dere must pe -somedings for de Bennie und de Helen, if dey come back mitout anyding -again.” - -“I’m awful glad it is time to eat, for I am so hungry. This is the -first bite we’ve had since yesterday.” - -The little fellow’s eyes sparkled as he saw the bread, which most of us -would have thrown aside as valueless, and waited with impatience for it -to be divided. The shoemaker cut it into four pieces, picking up and -eating the crumbs that broke off from the loaf as he cut it. He handed -Loney his portion. As the child ate it ravenously, he shook his head -sadly, saying: - -“Yes, this is the last crumb before starvation!” - -Loney had broken his bread into pieces, and as he left some of them on -the rock by his side Morris broke his bread also into pieces, and put -one piece to his lips, then took it away resolutely, and, pointing to a -tree, said: - -“Is dot a pirt on dat tree ofer dere?” - -The child looked in the direction of the tree, while Morris slipped the -piece of bread down beside the others on the rock. - -“I don’t see any bird, Mr. Goldberg. Why don’t you eat your bread? I -thought you were hungry, too.” - -Saying this, the child took the bread from the rock all unsuspecting -that it had been placed there by the shoemaker. To aid in the -deception, the old man began to chew, saying: - -“Vot you vant me to do? Dere, now, see how I choke meinselluf!” - -Saying this, the kind man pretended to cough, and again said: - -“Look, look! I am sure it is a pirt on de tree. Oh, if de Bennie und de -Helen vere only here now!” - -As the child looked again, earnestly, at the tree, Morris placed the -rest of the bread on the rock, unperceived. The boy looked in vain -for the bird, and mechanically put his hand behind him for the bread, -and never knew that the good man had sacrificed himself for the sake -of seeing the child eat the bread. Morris kept up the deception -until he saw that Loney had finished his scanty meal, and then tears -of weakness, hunger and sorrow mingled and ran, unnoticed, down his -cheeks. Loney saw them and said: - -“Oh, Mr. Goldberg! why are you crying?” - -“Crying? I am laughing. I’m not crying. Don’t you know de difference -between laughing und crying! Ven ve get de golt ve can hire de best -detective-policemens in de vorld, und den ve fint her right avay. It -is hart dot ve must haf money, efen to fint our children ven dey pe -lostet. If I fint a million, dot all shall be spent to fint Dora!” - -“I’ll help you, Mr. Goldberg. Would you buy me something?” - -“Yes; vot you vant? A naughtymobble? Or a flying-machine?” - -“Oh, yes!” - -“Vell, den, I puy you a naughtymobble, mit a golt horn on it und mit -three pounds of diamonds all arount it. Haf you got a toothpick, Loney. -I haf got mein supper in mein teeth, und it makes me nervous.” - -“No, sir, I haven’t got one,” said Loney, ready to cry, to think that -he could not give his benefactor what he wanted. He continued: - -“Nefer mind, Loney. Ve vill vait till after breakfast.” - -“Do you think there will be any breakfast, Mr. Goldberg?” - -“If dere isn’t, den I vill be a deat’ von! Ah, sure dere vill be a -breakfast. I feel sure dot de Helen und de Bennie vill find someding, -if only a canary-pirt. Now you, Loney, go py de tent und sleep some, -und lay you down avile. I vill go to vork again till dey come. Maype I -vill fint de golt.” - -The child went obediently into the tent and lay down on the bed of -leaves, and soon slept. Goldberg returned to the place where he had -been digging and commenced to work again, wielding the pick very -awkwardly, but with determination. - -During the time that he had been at work at the claim, he had, under -Helen’s guidance and advice, dug a tunnel for quite a distance under -the mountain, and this he had shored up with timbers cut from the -trees. The work was hard and his unaccustomed hands were in a terrible -state, but the thought that the discovery of the gold hidden in this -claim meant the means to seek his child nerved him to the exertion. - -Just above the mouth of his tunnel, but several feet distant, was a -large rock weighing many tons. Morris looked out toward the trail, from -whence he might expect to see Bennie and Helen come, but he failed -to look upward. Had he done so, he might have seen the evil faces of -John Pierson and Dopey Mack as they crouched behind the rock looking -down at the mouth of the tunnel. They had found a cavern several miles -away and had left Dora and Muriel there, while they came back to this -place. John had known of this claim, but had not known its location, -and now--to see such a chance for wealth pass from his hands into that -of the old shoemaker was too much, and he determined that the man must -die, so that he could step in and possess the claim. So steeped was he -in crime that the death of one or more victims counted for nothing in -his eyes. - -When Morris had gone into the tunnel John whispered to Dopey, saying: - -“Now is our time. We can loosen this big rock and push it down, so that -it will crush him as he comes out!” - -“Aw, say, boss, why not plug him wid a bullet and be done wid it?” - -“No; this quiet way is the best, and if anyone should, by any -possibility, be around, that person will think it an accident. Go and -bring that crowbar.” - -The shoemaker kept at his task inside the tunnel, but it was growing -too dark to work much longer, and he laid down his pick and started -out, saying, as he did so, that it was no wonder gold was so costly, -since it was so hard to dig, and it was still less of a wonder that men -turned counterfeiters and thieves, when it was so much easier to be a -bad man than a good one. Then, again, he took up his pick and tried -to dig a few more strokes, but it was too dark and he came out of the -tunnel and sat down on a rock, where he suddenly gave way to grief and -sobbed as only strong men do. - -“It is no use, no use! Dora, mein Dora, vere are you? Are you deat or -lifing?” - -Just then the moon rose over the brow of the mountain and fell upon his -upturned face as he lifted his hands and prayed aloud: - -“Oh, Gott! de fader abofe, send me mein chilt to me. I haf vaited so -long for her dot mein heart shall surely preak. Oh, Gott! send me mein -chilt!” - -In the meantime John and Dopey, having loosened the rock, sneaked away -silently, leaving the rock balanced on a hair almost. They circled -around and escaped being seen by the rocks and tree-stumps, and stood -at a safe distance from the mine, as the rock might rebound. In such a -case it would be difficult to decide which way it would go. While they -stood hidden, waiting the moment when the loosened rock should come -crashing down, there was a soft sound, as of small feet brushing along -the leafy rocks, and a plaintive voice became audible as someone sang: - - “Tell me that you love me, - Tell me softly, sweetly, as of old.” - -The poor father thought this was the answer to his prayer and believed -that Dora was dead and this was her spirit that had come to warn him of -her death. He sank to the ground, sobbing, incapable of other movement. -Then, again, clearer, nearer came the sound of the dear voice, and -Morris raised his head to see his child come walking toward him and -singing the old song as she came. He half-whispered: - -“Dora, mein chilt--alife! Dank Gott--alife!” - -“Who are you, sir?” asked Dora, looking at her father as we look at -strangers. “I don’t know you. I am looking for my father and Bennie.” - -“Look at me, mein chilt! I am your fader! Don’t you know me?” - -“No--I don’t know you, and I must go away from you, for I must find my -father and Bennie.” - -As she said these words, poor Dora walked away toward the ravine from -whence she had come. Muriel, worn out with watching, had fallen asleep, -and Dora had somehow found another entrance to the cave and gone out -that way, which brought her to the mouth of the tunnel where her father -was at work trying to get gold to seek for his daughter, and now that -he had found her he discovered that she was insane and did not know -him. As she went back toward the ravine her father roused from his -stupor and cried: - -“Dora! Dora! come back! Come back!” But she disappeared from his sight -in the darkening shadows, while John and Dopey both sprang at Morris, -saying roughly: - -“Where are you going?” - -“Stand avay! I am going to get mein chilt.” - -“You’ll do nothing of the kind. She belongs to me now.” - -“Stand avay! or, py de Gott dot made me, I vill kill you!” - -“Kill?” sneered John, “why, you poor Jew, you wouldn’t kill anything.” - -“Jew; yes, I am a Jew, but I haf anoder name and dot is vot de vorld -calls Fader, und a fader dot vill die for his young.” - -“Stay where you are, or die!” said John. - -“Mein chilt is dere, und you shall not keep me from her!” said Morris, -with a white, set face; and then, for the first time in his life, -Morris Goldberg was fighting, but this was for his child. He had no -thought of danger, but sprang at John’s throat. They struggled with -great ferocity. John had not expected to find such strength in the arms -of the old man, and had all he could do to ward off the strangling -fingers, but he managed to free himself from their grasp and call -“Dopey! at him!” - -Then the shoemaker sprang, with his back to the rocky side of his -tunnel, after having seized a pick. This he flourished, saying: - -“The first one dot moves, I vill brain!” - -Loney heard the noise of the conflict and crept softly from the tent, -and, seeing in what danger his friend was, started away in the hope of -bringing aid. Dopey waited for no further orders, but fired his pistol -at Morris who ducked and the ball went wide of its mark, and higher. -It struck the big rock they had pried loose, and the sudden impact of -the ball caused it to recoil and then topple down with a great crash. -It rolled on down until it settled solidly at the very feet of John -Pierson, who gave it one look and then said: - -“Well! by---- That rock is seamed with gold! He has struck it rich, -like all fools. He must have the deed to this claim. Upon him! at -him, Dopey!” But Dopey had fired his only shot and could not get near -enough, on account of that deadly pickaxe which Morris would surely -use, as he was worked up to a pitch where he had thrown his usual -prudence to the winds. He said, while the full extent of his good -fortune began to dawn upon his rather slow intelligence: - -“I haf not de deet, und, if I hat, I vould die pefore I vould gif it to -you!” - -Dopey reached around and took possession of one of John’s revolvers and -aimed at Morris when John, feeling sure of their superiority over the -lonely man, said: - -“Don’t shoot, Dopey! Don’t kill him! If he hasn’t the deed on him, -we’ll make him tell where it is. We must take him alive. Come on!” - -Both of the scoundrels sprang at Morris, whose mind was bewildered -by the simultaneous attack, and he wavered, so that Dopey managed -to strike him over the head with a slung-shot, which caused the -unfortunate man to fall, groaning and helpless, to the ground! - -“Ah, now we have him,” said John, “and we’ll take him to the hut and -torture him to death by inches until he gives us the deed to this mine -of gold!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -Down the trail there was a small procession coming to the relief of -the starved-out camp. Helen had seen an Indian, and as they all fairly -worshipped her as a superior being there was not one of them who would -not have coursed all over the State of Wyoming to do her a service. She -sent to Shoshone for food, and they were now on the road. Even Snakes -had come along, leaving his hotel to the care of his help. Dan and Mike -were also of the relief-party. Mike had hurt his foot and found it a -difficult matter to walk. They had ridden to the place, all but Mike, -whose pony had somehow gone so lame that they were obliged to leave -him. The others would have changed off with him and let him ride, but -he took this as an insult to his manhood, that he should be treated -like a baby, or, worse yet, a tenderfoot. - -“Well, then, come on. You are worse than a pack of English tenderfoots. -If we are going to find the Angel and her friends, we must get a move -on. That’s what we must.” - -“What do you think we are? A bunch of burros or mountain-goats? Do you -think we can climb these rocks the same as if they was flat prairie?” -said Dan, angry that Mike should be treated so badly, for they all knew -that Mike never shirked in anything from work to a free fight. - -“Don’t mind Shoshone, Mike; he is stabbed by the spurs of love, and he -don’t know what he is saying half the time. He’s got cactus stickers in -his topknot, and he’s as sassy as a loon. Let him rave. Let him rave.” - -“Well, you all know that I busted my saddle-girth a while back and that -dumped me out like a bag of flour, and kind ’er twisted my ankle.” - -They all laughed at the wry face Mike made, but he sat down, -obstinately saying: - -“Now, look here, fellows; this is nothing to laugh at. I’ve heard of -people faintin’ away with this, and I ain’t no coward when it comes to -it, and that you all know. I must rest this foot a little, and that’s -all there is to it.” - -“Snakes, you stay here with Mike and we’ll push on. Somehow, I’ve got a -hunch that we’re needed up at the claim,” said Shoshone. - -“No,” said Mike, “you all stay for ten minutes. That’s all I ask.” - -“Well, then, did you sprain your warbler, too? If not, then let’s -sing, to ease the pain,” said Shoshone. He well knew the virtues of -the singing to the cattle, so why not try it on the suffering man? So -he started the song and the rocky canyon resounded with the melody, -for these men make real music with their singing out in the open. -And scarcely had they finished the song than they heard a familiar -“Whoo-hoo,” and, with one accord, they said: - -“The Angel. No use talking, our warbling would bring the angels down. -Whoo-hoo, Angel, this way!” - -“I am awfully glad to see you, boys,” said Helen, as she climbed down -the declevity. “We’ve been hunting for game and found none, and are -pretty well starved out up there. And the little fellow needs better -food.” - -“Come on, boys; come quick! Scoot, you wolves, and get a lamb from the -nearest flock! Don’t stand there looking, but scoot. I’ve got enough -with me for one good square meal all ready, and the rest will be easy. -Mike, you get on my cayuse. We can’t wait.” - -“What is it, Mike? Have you turned your ankle? Let me see it. No saying -a word, but take off your boot, and quick,” said Helen, in the most -matter-of-fact business sort of way. Then she deftly felt the injured -foot and, with a quick wrench that made the strong man pale to the -lips, she said: - -“Why, Mike, it was dislocated. No wonder it hurt. Now I’ll bandage it -the best I can until we get to civilization again.” - -With a long strip of cloth which she carried in a little bag hung -to her waist, Helen bandaged the foot while the others looked on in -wonder, all wishing the ankle his own. Then Mike was kindly forced to -mount the horse, and Shoshone outdid himself in consideration for Mike. - -As Dan and Snakes started for the lamb, Helen called them and told -them the place was at the head of the small gulch on Bald Knob. Then -she hurried Shoshone and Mike along, her own feet seeming tireless, -although she had been tramping over the mountains all day long, and -hungry. - -“Whenever the Injuns come around as thick as they have been lately,” -said Mike, “the game gits scarce at once. I think as how the critters -has a way of telling each other that it ain’t healthy for them to stay. -Animals know lots more than we think. And they know that we don’t -bother much with them so long as there is fat yearlings to eat for the -asking. So when the Injuns come back from one of their jaunts, the -critters just mosey off, each one telling the other that it ain’t safe -to stay.” - -“I think you are right, Mike, and I have thought it so, too. But now we -will be all right. I haven’t had a bite since yesterday.” - -Shoshone turned pale and hastily took the knapsack from his back, but -Helen refused to touch a thing until they were all at the claim. - -“Vamose, vamose, boys!” cried Shoshone to the others, who were going as -fast as the nature of the ground would permit toward a ranch down the -valley. “Hurry up, you catamounts! Come, and keep coming till there’s -enough grub for a month. The Angel is starved--that’s what!” - -Scarcely had the ringing voice of Shoshone ceased reverberating through -the ravine than Helen and Shoshone saw the frail form of little Loney -come flying down toward them. With all his feeble strength, he cried: - -“Help! Help!” - -“Why, Loney! what is the matter?” asked Helen, taking the panting child -in her arms. “Speak, child, speak!” - -“Mr. Goldberg! Mr. Goldberg!” - -“What’s wrong, Loney?” asked Shoshone, filled with apprehension, for -he knew how ignorant the old man was of life in this region, and he -thought, in one brief instant, of dozens of dangers he might have run -into through his ignorance--from a nest of mountain-lions to a cave-in -of his tunnel. - -“He is dead! He is dead!” - -“Dead!” said Helen. “Dead! How?” - -“Yes; he is dead! Some men came and killed him with a funny stick. They -fired at him, and a rock came down, but it didn’t hurt him, and then -they hit him and killed him, because he wouldn’t tell them where a -deed, I think they said, was. And I hid in the rocks and run away.” - -“I don’t know who could have been vile enough to injure that good -man. He was like a child in his truthfulness and like an angel in his -goodness. And he was good to me. Come on, Shoshone and Mike, come on. -Let us go to him, and I swear to search Wyoming to avenge the death of -this good and inoffensive man! Shoshone, if I am anything at all of -what all you boys believe me to be, I owe it to him. He taught me that -it is never too late to mend.” - -“So will I,” said Shoshone solemnly, as to himself, while Mike said: - -“You can count me in, too, Angel, and together we will find who has -done this thing, and bring swift punishment on him.” - -They rode on in the gathering dusk and soon were by the shack that had -been built near the claim, as it was convenient for water. There was a -light inside, a fact which seemed remarkable, and which made them use -much caution. - -During the time when Loney had been running down the trail and -returning with Helen, Shoshone and Mike, John and Dopey had taken the -inert form of Morris and carried it to the shack and placed it on the -bed in a position so that they could torture him at their leisure. - -The table had a lighted lamp upon it. Morris lay pale and almost in a -comatose condition. On the table by the lamp lay a heavy bar of iron. -John and Dopey were making a hurried search for the missing deed when -Morris groaned and stirred slightly on the bed, which caused the two -miscreants to stop in their fruitless search and approach him. In the -fracas John’s false beard had become loosened, and he let it fall, -while Dopey, who took his cue always from John, drew his off also, and -they stood revealed as the two who had carried Dora from her home. - -“’Ow is he, boss? T’ink we’d better get t’rough wid him?” - -“He seems unconscious. That pounding you gave him with the slung-shot -was too much for his thick head, and may kill him, after all! He -hasn’t been able to speak a word since he has been here. But you shall -speak!” he continued to Morris, “you shall speak and tell me where to -find the deed, or I’ll slit your throat for you! Wake up and speak, or -I’ll tear your heart out, you old fool! Where is the deed? Where is -the deed, I say?” Then the villain choked the unconscious man, shaking -him like a rat, and finally discouraged, threw him back again upon the -pillow. “It’s no use, Dopey; he is the same as dead! We must wait and -search!” - -“Dora! Dora! mein little chilt!” murmured the unconscious Morris, in a -feeble tone. - -“Hear dat, boss? He spoke!” - -“And he’ll speak again, or I’ll cut his throat!” And as he said these -words, John bent over Morris and threatened him with a keen and shining -knife. “Will you speak and tell me where that deed is, or shall I cut -your throat? Answer me!” - -“Oh, cut away, boss! You’re losin’ time.” - -“And lose the deed to that mine--not much. I’d rather wait. He was -talking of his child while still unconscious, and that makes me feel -sure he will come to in time and tell us where the deed is, or he’ll -never leave this bed alive!” - -“And where is de gal now?” - -“Oh, Muriel has got her, and I’ve got them both fastened in the old -shack below.” - -At this instant there was a loud hallo, which caused the two murderers -to grow pale and start, but John said: - -“There’s someone coming! Bar the door, Dopey!” - -“Settle him now, before he comes to and tells tales!” - -“You are right, Dopey. I’ll smother him!” And, saying these fateful -words, John seized the pillow and pressed it down over the prostrate -man’s face, while his ears were strained to catch any sounds. - -There was a loud and insistent knock on the cabin-door, which had been -made to withstand the attacks of mountain-lions or any other possible -depredators, and the ringing voice of Shoshone said: - -“Open! Open, I say! Whoever you are, open the door!” - -John made a motion to Dopey to keep still, while he took out his pistol -and stood on guard, forgetting, in his peril, to press the pillow down -over Morris’ face, while Shoshone, without, again commanded that the -door be opened or he would break it down. John returned to the attack -upon Morris, and again pressed the pillow down tightly, intending to -finish his work and then, if so be, fight the intruders later. - -There was but a short time before the door began to cede to the -efforts of Shoshone and Mike, who now forgot his lame ankle, and -John saw instantly that his only hope was to pay in audacity for his -imprudence, so when Shoshone and Mike entered the hut he had laid one -of his pistols on the table, as though that were the only one he had. -The pillow had been placed back of the man, and Shoshone came forward, -saying sternly: - -“So he is here, and you are the men who have murdered him!” - -“You are wrong there, Mister. We were riding along when we heard the -sound of trouble and dismounted, and came to see what we could do, and -found this poor man wounded, and brought him in. While we were doing -this, the scoundrels, whoever they were, rode off on our horses with -our entire outfit.” - -“What is that pistol doing on the table? Is that the kind of medicine -you have been giving him?” - -“That is not my pistol. We don’t need pistols. We are simply honest -prospectors, trying to locate a mine somewhere.” - -“Well, I’m not armed, either,” said Shoshone. “I fell into a hole -coming here, and dropped mine; so, if you are honest men, I don’t need -them, and you will help me to help my friend.” - -“Certainly we will, and be glad to do so,” said John. - -Shoshone would have known John, had he not taken off the very perfect -false beard he had worn, although he had not seen very much of him -during their short stay at the hotel. - -“I have a friend coming along behind, and she is a famous nurse. Our -poor friend here will need good care if he is to live.” - -Saying this, Shoshone went to the door, as if going out, while the -wounded man, by a supreme effort, reached his hand out to the table, -and then, thinking that unsafe, began to tap the Morse telegraphic call -on a board of the bed: - - (. : . : .) - -“What’s that?” asked John, startled, in spite of himself, and not -understanding the tapping. Shoshone returned from the door, saying to -himself, “The telegraphic call.” Then the wounded man again tapped, and -this time it came - - --. : . .. .... .. - -“Why, what does this mean?” - -Again the raps sounded out, loud and distinct, as Morris struck his -hardened knuckles against the board, making these sounds: - - .. ::: ..--.: .... .. ... .. .. - -Shoshone read “These are the men who tried to rob and murder me!” - -As Shoshone read these signs aloud, John saw that the game was up and -he must save himself as best he could, and sprang to reach his pistol, -but Shoshone was too quick for him and pulled him to the floor, while -Dopey came from the shadow where he had kept himself purposely and fell -upon Shoshone, and the three went struggling to the floor. Morris had -by now completely regained his consciousness, though not his strength, -and, finding himself unable to rise, he reached out and managed, by a -super-human effort, to reach the pistol on the table and fire it just -as John had seized the heavy lamp to brain Shoshone with it, as Dopey -held him down, and although Morris fired at random almost, he was -fortunate enough to hit John in the arm, while the lamp dropped to the -floor, just as Helen and Loney came panting in. - -John and Dopey made their escape in the confusion, and there was -nothing left to do but to prepare and eat a good supper, which helped -materially in restoring Morris, who told them of having seen his -daughter, and that she did not know him. - -Helen felt sure that her captors were holding her for a ransom, wishing -to get the mine into their control. They discussed the question awhile, -and then Loney said: - -“Why, Mr. Goldberg, those two men were the very same that killed the -man in the shop. And when they struck you to-day they were not shaved. -To-night they are shaved, and I know them. They are awful bad men. They -took Dora, and they hit me. Oh, dear! it makes my head hurt to think -about it!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -It was several weeks after the events narrated in the last chapter, and -there was quite an excitement at a place which, though not yet born, -was named Boomtown. There was to be a portion of the Reservation to -be given over to settlers, and many women were among the men who were -ready to cross the line at the signal and take up their section of -ground, and thus establish a home. - -Morris had gained his strength, and Bennie had gotten over the -mortification of having been chased up a tree by what he considered -some vicious animal on the momentous night of the attack on Morris, -only to find in the morning that it had been but a cow that had -strayed from the herd and wanted human companionship. Bennie had been -unmercifully guyed by the rough men, but he took it all in such good -part that they ceased tormenting him and liked him better than he knew. - -Helen and Loney were almost inseparable, and under her good care and -the good fare and bracing mountain air he was fast rounding into a fine -boy--healthy and rosy. - -Shoshone, as well as all the men and women within range, was as fond -of Helen as ever. Her errands of mercy and kindness, done always -without money and without price, endeared her to all alike, even the -Indians looking upon her as something saintly and one whom they should -respect as one sent from the Great Spirit. - -Dora had disappeared entirely, and no one could find the slightest -trace of her. The patient Indians had been impressed into the search, -but no tidings came from her, and no trace of John, Muriel or Dopey -could be found. Morris despaired, and had grown old and almost gray. -Bennie had lost much of his bright gayety, and it seemed as though the -shadow would never be lifted. - -Morris had discovered that Helen was the sister of the dead man, and -as such he gave her her share of the claim which they were now sure -was of great value, but often a rich claim is known well to be, so -it lies idle and unproductive for want of the money to pay to work -it. This claim, which promised so well, would need deep tunnelling, a -quartz-mill and all the other things necessary to properly work it. -Morris and Helen might stay there forever and dig out a few dollars -worth of gold a day, but, with millions almost in sight, it would be -asking too much of them to expect them to do this, when Helen knew -if Morris did not, that there were plenty men with the means and the -knowledge ready to join them once they were convinced that the mine was -all they claimed. - -So, to try and find one of these rare birds, the capitalist, Helen -and Morris with Loney, and Bennie, came down to Hellandgone, and were -persuaded by Shoshone and the others of the “old crowd,” as they called -themselves, to come over to the rush into the Reservation. Helen was to -cross the line with Loney, and lay claim to one parcel for the child -and one for herself. - -Bennie was looking all about for Morris, who had disappeared strangely -and suddenly, but without success. - -There was a great crowd gathered at the edge of the railroad, -waiting for the signal to cross it, for the roadbed was the line of -demarkation, and on the farther side was the land for distribution. Red -Eagle was there, looking on the crowd and at the land with a somber -face. This land had belonged to his forbears from beyond recollection, -and, little by little, it had been taken away from them, until now -this last and best strip was to be given over to the white man. - -When all had gathered, that seemed likely to come, Shoshone mounted -a large dry-goods box that seemed to be there providentially for the -purpose and shouted: - -“Listen! ladies and gentlemen. I am Pete Browning, known to you best as -Shoshone Pete. I have been appointed Marshal of Boomtown. I am here to -preserve order. Any decent man and I will get along all hunky, but all -thugs, crooks and bad men take warning, for I’ll shoot on sight! Now -you know me, who I am and what I’m here for.” - -All the “boys” from Hellandgone and the adjacent country gave in chorus -their yell of “Ee--you!” until the very ground trembled. - -“He’s a wanderer from Dead Man’s Gulch, but he’s not alone, for we’re -his little brothers!” shouted Dan. Then again resounded the “Zip! Zip! -yee, you!” in which Red Eagle joined with unction, for he smelled -whiskey as the ending of this festival. Then Red Eagle was cheered, at -which he bowed with preternatural dignity. - -At this juncture Snakes Duffy came up with a keg of whiskey on his -shoulder, at which everybody cheered, but Helen went to him and, -smiling pleasantly, asked him something, to which he nodded assent and -deliberately turned the keg on end and sat down on it. He disposed -himself so as to listen to what Shoshone had to say, and this gentleman -spoke: - -“To those who don’t know, let me state that at 12 o’clock precisely, a -few seconds from now, as Deputy United States Marshal, I shall fire my -pistol, and that will be the signal for the crossing of the line, which -is the railroad track. Over there is the Reservation, and no man must -cross it until he hears the signal. The one who does it, does so at the -risk of his life!” - -Shoshone stood still as a statue, looking at his watch and holding his -great pistol with its shining barrel. - -“Don’t be in a hurry, boys; don’t be in a hurry to try your wings. He’s -from the heart of the Gulch and shoots with both hands--never misses, -either.” - -This advice probably had some effect, for everyone kept in his place, -when Mike shouted, and in a voice loud enough to be heard all over the -county: - -“Say, boys, we all owe it to the Angel that she should be given one -minute’s start over everyone here. All in favor of it say ‘aye.’” - -Such a chorus of “ayes” rose that it showed Helen that her gentle -ministrations and self-sacrifice had been appreciated in her own -generation. - -“Go, Angel, and take the boy, Loney, along. He ought to have a start in -life.” - -“Thank you, friends,” said Helen, “I will do this, not so much for -myself----” - -“Oh, go on and pick out a pretty place, and the boys will build you a -shack.” - -Smiling happily, Helen went across the track and back some yards and -sat down. With a shout then Shoshone fired his pistol, and there was a -wild rush of all present, but it was a good-natured one, thanks to the -absence of the cause of most of the disputes of the far West--whiskey. - -Then a strange phenomenon took place. As the pistol was fired, Shoshone -sprang from the box and rushed forward with the rest, intent on finding -Helen and protecting her from the rushing feet, and this box rose in -the air of itself and two legs showed beneath it, until it reached the -goal it had set, and then the box with the legs under it sat down on -the ground, and those near could read the legend: - - MORRIS GOLDBERG, SHOEMAKER, & REAL ESTATE. - -All present sent up such a shout of laughter that it set the crowd in -such good humor that the town was born without a single fight. - -As Shoshone reached the side of the dry-goods box he was nearly dead -from laughter, but managed to say: - -“Well, you have beat us all, Mr. Goldberg. We have but our lots, while -you have your house all done, and are ready for business.” - -“Yah, dere pe no flies on me, Mr. Shoshone. Vere is der Angel, mein -partner in der claim? Meppe ve make some moneys in real estate, und -I can vork at mein trate until ve fix it all. Yust to t’ink, she vos -de sister of dot ‘Cactus Bill.’ I dell you dot she is a real angel. -Didn’t she dake care of me after dot scoundrel knocked me out? Und she -is like a mutter to dot Loney. Und she is so goot. Ach, Gott! if I haf -millions, dey should all be hers.” - -Somehow this frank admiration was not so pleasant to Shoshone as it -might have been. He felt a sort of tugging at his heart that he had -never felt before. Was it jealousy? He did not know exactly, but it was -a very uncomfortable feeling. Then he asked how it was that Morris, -with a claim, and thus a home of his own, should have come down here to -try to grasp a homestead. - -“Ah, mein friendt, it vos because one of dem cigar-store signs came -und said dot he haf heard dot dose mens vot haf stole mein chilt vos -coming here, und I comet too. Und so long as ve vos here, it don’t cost -nodings to take de claim, and so, meppe, I vork und make enough to vork -de claim. Say, Shoshone, vy you don’t get merrit mit de Angel, and live -here, too?” - -This innocent question so took Shoshone by surprise that for a moment -he could not speak. Then he said, sadly: - -“I would, but she won’t have me. I don’t blame her for not liking one -so rough.” - -“Ut-tut, I haf see in her eyes, ven she look at you, dot she likes you, -und----” - -Here Shoshone seized the old man’s hand and fairly wrung it in his joy. -The shoemaker said, simply: - -“Vell, I call de Bennie to bring me mein tools und I pegin piziness, if -dere is any; und if not, den ve set de tent. Und Helen vill haf de tent -till she can get a house. Vill you come?” - -Would he go to where Helen was? He certainly would, and did. - -John and Dopey had been in that crowd. John’s resources always depended -on the men that he could fleece at gambling, or some other game of -confidence. They had resumed their full beards and dressed in a -different manner, so they felt sure they would not be recognized if -anyone of the crowd at Hellandgone should be at the birth of the new -town. John had caught sight of Morris, and said to Dopey: - -“Either that Jew is the smartest detective in the United States or -the biggest fool for luck. It doesn’t matter much which, but it seems -impossible to get rid of him.” - -“Have you tried de right way yet, boss? You allus lets him get away. It -wouldn’t be noticed if he was to get a stray bullet in his gizzard now. -There is allus a shooting-match in this kind of a ruction.” - -“You are right. This is the place and time to rid ourselves of him. -Here we put our necks in danger, sneaking in the back way, so to speak, -and run up against the old man, and the daughter still on our hands. We -have got to play this game fine or we’ll lose. And here she has come to -her senses again. That is one of the unaccountable things no one can -explain. Some persons go suddenly insane and as suddenly regain their -reason. It doubles our danger. And Muriel has turned such a tiger-cat -about her. Oh, hide! hide quick! For if God is to judge me, here comes -my wife, and the boy with her. How shall we get him away, for no one -knows when or what he may tell?” - -The two scoundrels escaped in the crowd, and pretended to be hunting -for someone. The last thing they would now think of was to try to -settle in the place made so dangerous for them. - -Helen and the child came along to the box where Morris had fixed his -abode and sat down upon it, she having registered the two claims. She -said: - -“We must try and get back to the Gulch before there is any kind of -trouble, for often when there is a crowd like this they get to drinking -and fighting. Snakes was so good, and would not sell any, but there may -be others who will. Some of the men are desperate characters.” - -“Let’s hurry then, for I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, -because I love you so much.” - -“Do you love me, Loney? That sounds so sweet, and I am so glad that I -could win your affection. And I am glad if I could to-day do anything -to insure your future. If my own little boy had lived, he would have -been about your own age. And he must have looked as you do had he -lived.” - -“Well, I wish that I had been your little boy. You don’t know how it -feels to know you are nobody’s boy.” - -All the boomers were occupied each with his own plans, and they seemed -to consist in getting their claims registered, and after that getting -their tents set up. In a surprisingly short time the place looked like -a miniature village done in white. No one seemed to notice that two -men had approached Helen and the child, who were still sitting on the -box which Morris owned. As she saw these rough-looking men, each with -a full dark beard, Helen started, for there was something sinister in -their manner. She turned to them, saying: - -“Who are you, and what do you want?” - -“Never mind who I am. I know my business, and it is that I want that -boy.” - -“What right have you to ask such a thing? What is this child to you?” - -As Helen said this firmly, John stood so that he was hidden from sight, -while he removed his false beard, saying: - -“Look at me closely and, maybe, you will know.” - -“My God! it is John Pierson!” - -“Yes; John Pierson, and that boy’s father.” - -“Then I am his mother. Touch him if you dare!” - -“Don’t let him take me! Don’t let him! It was that man that killed the -man in New York and tried to kill me!” screamed Loney, clinging to -Helen wildly. - -“Don’t fear, my child! for he shall not harm one hair of your head!” - -“And what will you do? What can you do to prevent it?” - -“Do? Stand here and fight for him until you’ve hacked me to pieces with -that murderous knife! And I bid you beware, for I am his mother!” - -“Onto her, Dopey! We’ll settle this right now!” - -Dopey started toward Helen with his slung-shot raised for a crushing -blow, when he stopped suddenly with his arm raised, as he saw behind -John the long figure of Morris, who stood there, with his pistol -raised, ready to fire. - -Morris had not lived long as he had in the West without learning how to -shoot and to employ some of the picturesque language in use there. - -“Looket out, mein frients! Diss is de Yiddish doctor, und he might fill -you full of a kint of pills you vouldn’t like so vell.” - -“Get away, Dopey; here comes someone else we don’t want to meet.” And -they started away so suddenly that Morris had no chance to shoot, had -he dared fire in that crowded place. - -“Und I dare not shoot, although dose are de mens vot haf mein Dora.” - -“They are the ones that killed the man in your shop, for I saw the big -one take off his whiskers--and it was the same one!” - -“Und mein chilt, maype, is among dis crowd. May de goot Gott show me de -vay to fint her!” - -While this was transpiring, Helen was kneeling at Loney’s side, weeping -with joy and kissing the child at the same time. “May He help you to -find your child as He has helped me find mine! Loney is my own little -boy, whom Heaven has sent back to his mother’s heart. Thank God! that -he did not die!” - -“I knew that you would come back some day, for I always prayed you -would. I knew I would find my mother. I don’t like my father, for he is -bad and wicked. He tried to kill me, and carried Dora away!” - -“Is that so, Mr. Goldberg? It is then but an added crime.” - -“Yes, Helen, und I haf prayet dot I vould fint mein child. I vill go -out und look in efery blace till I see if she is here. Go you to de -tent und stay dere till I come again. You are not safe here.” - -Bennie came back sad and crestfallen. What to him were all the lots in -the world without Dora, and even his optimistic soul was down in the -depths of despair. But all he said was: - -“I will go with you to look for her. I think I saw the two men that we -seek among the boomers, but am not sure; but, in any case, it is better -than sitting still.” - -“Yes, Bennie, ve must fint her or I shall lose my reason.” - -So Helen and the child started back to the tent and went inside, and -there they were measurably safe, as they were surrounded by boomers who -were busy setting their tents in order. - -“Oh, mother,” said Loney, “how glad I am that we have found each other! -Now, when it comes night, I can say my prayers at your knees instead of -all alone.” - -“Yes, and you must always pray for the good man who took you into his -home when you were an outcast, through your own father’s wickedness. It -was he who showed me that it was never too late to mend. And I do not -intend to ever try to teach you to revere the memory of such a father -as yours is. He is unworthy of such a child, even unworthy of me.” - -“Mother, they call you the Angel here. Why? Oh, I know; it is because -you are so kind to everyone. Teach me, so that I may be like you.” - -Scarcely had Helen and Loney gone from the box when Muriel and Dora -came to the very spot. Muriel was pale and worn out, and her once -handsome garments were almost in rags from the long marches and the -exposure to which she had been subjected. Dora was dressed in a pretty -and complete Indian maiden’s costume which Muriel had bought from Red -Eagle, whose love for firewater had caused him to barter away what -his squaw had kept sacred ever since her daughter had died in her -youth. So, unless he happened to see her face, John would scarcely -have recognized Dora. She had a shawl drawn up over her head, so as to -conceal her identity still better. Muriel said, hurriedly: - -“Go, go! and get lost in the crowd! I cannot protect you longer!” - -She did not tell Dora that she knew herself to be dying from pneumonia, -for she knew the child then would not leave her, so she held Dora close -to her heart for a moment, and then sent her away. - -“I thank you with all my heart for all your goodness to me, and I will -pray that Heaven may repay you for all you have endured for me!” - -“Go, go! I fancy I see them following us in the crowd back there. And -it will cost our lives if they find us again! Go, Dora!” - -“Good-bye, dear Muriel. God bless and keep you safe!” And Dora mingled -with the crowd, none of whom took more than casual notice of the squaw, -for squaws were common about there. - -Shoshone came by the box, hoping to find the shoemaker. Helen was with -him, but the boy was not. “And,” he said, continuing a conversation -they had had: - -“Don’t worry about the boy, Helen. He is safer with the boys than with -you.” - -They did not notice Muriel, who looked at Helen for a moment with tears -in her eyes and then slipped away unseen by Helen, whose sorrows she -had caused in a great measure. - -“Are you sure he would be safe with them? Think what it would mean to -me to lose him again!” - -“Don’t worry. Anyone of the boys would die for you any day, and as he -is your boy they would naturally transfer their allegiance to him. And -you say it is his father who, to rob you of him, killed your brother, -‘Cactus Bill,’ and stole this poor Dora? Say, he must be aching for -the noose. And, besides, it was he who tried to kill Goldberg!” - -“Yes; he is John Pierson. I saw him but just now, and he tried to -take my child again. Oh, I wonder such men are permitted to live! He -outraged every human emotion, abandoned me with another woman, and to -think that he should have killed my poor brother! He was an honest man.” - -“You bet he was. We all knew him, and he was white, he was.” - -Shoshone stopped in his oration, saying: “Go back to the tent, girl. -Some of the boys are going to get busy.” - -“What do you mean, Shoshone?” - -“Nothin’, Helen, nothin’. I didn’t mean for you to go alone. I’ll go -along.” - -“Thank you, Shoshone, I am growing to be a coward.” - -They could not have gone more than fifty yards from the box when Muriel -came back that way, looking behind her in terror, as she saw her two -enemies following her, so that she could not escape. John approached -her, saying: - -“What have you done with her? Where is she, you traitor?” - -“I have set her free, you devil! and I’m ready to die for having done -it!” said Muriel, no longer seeking to escape, and folding her hands. - -“Then die!” - -Saying this, John fired point-blank at Muriel’s heart, and she fell to -the ground with a cry, while John said to Dopey: “Come this way! this -way, quick!” - -At the sound of this shot, followed by a woman’s cry, there was a rush -of people, and among them Helen, for, in her excited mind, she feared -for her child. As she approached, the men made way for her, and she -knelt by the side of the dying woman, saying: - -“A woman, poor thing!” - -Then she started, saying, “You, you!” - -“Yes, I; and is it possible that I am to die in your arms--you whom I -wronged so deeply?” - -“Yes, Muriel, if you die, it shall be in my arms and with my pardon.” - -“You pardon me after all I’ve done to you?” - -“Yes; freely and fully, but don’t think of that. Can you pray?” - -“Not until I tell you who killed me! It was John Pierson. The man I -took away from you has been your avenger.” - -“I want no revenge, Muriel. Vengeance is not for us!” - -The unfortunate woman gasped a few times, and while Helen was praying -for the passing soul the light went out of Muriel’s eyes and she was -dead! - -“Hats off, boys; she is going over the range,” Shoshone had said while -Muriel was gasping her last breaths. Helen covered the face, letting -fall pearly tears as she did so. - -While the moment was still tense there was a scream from a woman, and -Dora rushed to the spot where the crowd had gathered, crying: - -“Save me! save me!” And she ran to Helen as the only woman there. - -John and Dopey threw prudence to the winds by pursuing her, and John -drew his pistol, saying: - -“We have a fine round-up just now, everybody together!” And he tried to -seize Dora, while her father, with his eyes of fire and his hair flying -in the wind, came rushing up. - -“I heard Dora! I heard her!” Then he leveled his pistol at John, -saying: “Move a muscle, and I’ll kill you deat!” - -“Kill him, Dopey! I’m all right.” - -“Never mind him, pardner,” said Shoshone to Morris. Then to John: “Your -game is up, and I have won, as the Deputy Marshal. Boys,” he added, -with a dread significance. They closed around the murderer and Dopey, -who showed more fight than John had, but then he did not know quite so -well the meaning of the deep silence that had fallen upon them all. - -“Dora! Dora!” called the distracted father, when there ran into his -arms what he had supposed was an Indian girl. - -“Papa, papa! and Bennie, too. Oh, how glad I am! I don’t know how it -all happened, but we are together now.” - -Shoshone made a motion to Goldberg to take them away, and, leading Dora -by one hand and Bennie by the other, they started to the tent. - -Helen sank down to the box, incapable of movement. She knew what the -sudden silence meant and saw Dan take his lariat. She covered her face -with her hands and sat there for what she thought a year. Then she felt -her hand taken, and looked up to see Shoshone standing there and in his -grave face she read the truth. Swift justice had been meted out to the -murderers for their crimes! - -Helen was free; no, not quite free, for she was now held close in -Shoshone’s arms. - -THE END. - - * * * * * - -GUS HILL’S ENTERPRISES. - - AROUND THE CLOCK. - IN GAY NEW YORK. - McFADDEN’S ROW OF FLATS. - IN CRUEL RUSSIA. - THE SMART SET. - HAPPY HOOLIGAN. - THE CRACKER JACKS. - THE NIGHT OWLS. - VANITY FAIR. - and - IN THE SHOEMAKER. - - GUS HILL, - 1358 Broadway, :: New York. - CHAS. E. BARTON, General Manager. - - * * * * * - -A $2.00 Book for 25 Cents! - -Old Secrets and New Discoveries. - -Containing Information of Rare Value for all Classes, in all Conditions -of Society. - -[Illustration] - -=It Tells= all about _Electrical Psychology_, showing how you can -biologize any person, and, while under the influence, he will do -anything you may wish him no matter how ridiculous it may be, and he -cannot help doing it. - -=It Tells= how to _Mesmerize_. Knowing this, you can place any person -in a mesmeric sleep, and then be able to do with him as you will. 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We therefore desire to call your special attention to -the following - -Four Books in ONE, - -which =If= - - You are Courting, - If You want to Court, or - If You want to be Courted, - -you should obtain at the earliest possible moment. - -_=HOW TO WOO; WHEN AND WHOM=_, which gives full and interesting rules -for the etiquette of courtship, the time and place for conducting the -same, and some good advice as to the selection of your partner for life. - -_=COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE=_, which tells how to win the favor of -the ladies, how to begin and end a courtship, and how to “Pop -the Question,” and also gives full information in regard to the -invitations, gifts, ushers, bridesmaids, conduct of the wedding -ceremony, etc., etc. - -_=THE LOVERS’ COMPANION=_, which gives the flirtations of the -handkerchief, parasol, glove, fan and napkin: also, the language of -flowers; how to kiss deliciously; and a cure for bashfulness. - -_=THE POPULAR LETTER WRITER=_, which tells how to write business, -social, and love letters, giving numerous examples of all. - -This valuable work containing the _four books above mentioned_, is -issued in one volume under the title =HOW TO WOO=, and it will be sent -to any address, postpaid, upon receipt of 25 cents in postage stamps or -money. Address - - =J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, - 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.= - - * * * * * - -POPULAR NOVELS WRITTEN FROM PLAYS. - -SEASON OF 1907-1908. - -We desire to call your attention to the following list of novels -written from the Popular Plays, which are being presented in various -parts of the country. They contain about 200 pages each, with -illustrations from the Play, and are bound in handsome paper cover -printed in five colors. - -PRICE, 25 CENTS EACH. - - DION O’DARE By Charles E. Blaney - THE BOY DETECTIVE By Charles E. Blaney - BILLY THE KID By Arda LaCroix - JOSIE, THE LITTLE MADCAP By Charles E. Blaney - FIGHTING BILL, SHERIFF OF SILVER CREEK By O. Harper - BROADWAY AFTER DARK By Grace Miller White - CONVICT 999 By Grace Miller White - EDNA, THE PRETTY TYPEWRITER By Grace M. White - SINCE NELLIE WENT AWAY By Grace Miller White - A CHORUS GIRL’S LUCK IN NEW YORK By White - THE KING AND QUEEN OF GAMBLERS By White - THE GREAT EXPRESS ROBBERY By Grace M. White - A RACE ACROSS THE CONTINENT By Grace M. White - LOTTIE, THE POOR SALESLADY By Charles E. Blaney - HIS TERRIBLE SECRET By Charles E. Blaney - THE HIRED GIRL’S MILLIONS By Charles E. Blaney - FROM SING SING TO LIBERTY By Harry Clay Blaney - THE DANCER AND THE KING By Charles E. Blaney - A MARKED WOMAN By Grace Miller White - THE QUEEN OF THE COWBOYS By Grace Miller White - PARTED ON HER BRIDAL TOUR By Laura Jean Libbey - JOE WELCH THE SHOEMAKER By Olive Harper - KIDNAPPED FOR REVENGE By Blaney and Vedder - NELLIE, THE BEAUTIFUL CLOAK MODEL By White - FROM TRAMP TO MILLIONAIRE By Grace Miller White - SECRETS OF THE POLICE By Grace Miller White - RULED OFF THE TURF By Grace Miller White - THE BURGLAR AND THE LADY By Olive Harper - A MILLIONAIRE’S REVENGE By Olive Harper - THE GIRL RAFFLES By Charles E. Blaney - BERTHA, THE SEWING MACHINE GIRL By O. Harper - A CHILD OF THE REGIMENT By Charles E. Blaney - THE GAMBLER OF THE WEST By Olive Harper - -The above books are for sale by Newsdealers and Booksellers everywhere, -or they will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address for 25 cents -each, or any five books for $1.00. Address all orders to - -J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING CO., 57 Rose Street, New York. - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are -mentioned, except for the frontispiece. - -Punctuation has been made consistent. - -Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in -the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have -been corrected. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHOEMAKER *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The shoemaker, by Olive Harper</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The shoemaker</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>A powerful picture of nature, adapted from Hal Reid’s famous drama of the same name</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Olive Harper</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Contributor: Hal Reid</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 22, 2022 [eBook #69408]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Demian Katz, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Images courtesy of the Digital Library@Villanova University.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHOEMAKER ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter illowp50" style="max-width: 107.6875em;"> - <img id="coverpage" class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Cover."> -</div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop"> -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center sansseriffont">Price 25 Cents.</p> - -<p class="center xxlargefont sansseriffont boldfont" style="color:green">The SHOEMAKER</p> - -<p class="center largefont sansseriffont">A STORY BASED ON HAL REID’S PLAY<br> -OF THE SAME NAME.</p> - -<p class="xlargefont center sansseriffont"><span class="smcap">By</span> OLIVE HARPER.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp87" style="max-width: 40.625em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/cover_illo.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"><p class="center sansseriffont">MORRIS GOLDBERG, THE SHOEMAKER.</p></div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop"> -<div class="chapter"> -<div id="BRef_77" class="figcenter illowp56" style="max-width: 40.625em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i004.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"><p class="center sansseriffont">“<span class="smcap"><a href="#Ref_77">I’m Wild Bill, the Bull Man.</a></span>”</p></div> -</div></div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1 class="nobreak">THE SHOEMAKER.</h1> - - -<p class="center p2 xlargefont">A Powerful Picture of Nature, Adapted<br> -From Hal Reid’s Famous Drama<br> -Of the Same Name.</p> - -<p class="center p1 xlargefont" style="line-height:2"><span class="mediumfont">BY</span><br> -OLIVE HARPER,</p> - -<p class="center">Author of “The Sociable Ghost,” “Letters From an American<br> -Countess,” “A Desperate Chance,” “The Show Girl,” “When<br> -We Were Twenty-One,” “A Daughter of the South,”<br> -“Bertha, the Sewing Machine Girl,” Etc.</p> - -<p class="center p2"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1907, by<br> -J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company.</span></p> - -<p class="center p2 largefont"><span class="smcap">New York</span>:<br> -J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,<br> -<span class="smcap">57 Rose Street</span>. -</p> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[3]</span></p> -<p class="center xxlargefont nobreak" style="margin-bottom:1em">THE SHOEMAKER</p> -<h2 class="nobreak">PROLOGUE.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>In one of the small side streets that end in -the Bowery, on the East Side, is a row of small -and dilapidated buildings, which once, in the -early days of New York, were the dwellings of -fashionable people, but which are now occupied -by poor but industrious people. The majority -of these houses have some small business carried -on in the basement cellars.</p> - -<p>The people who occupy the houses above the -cellar stores or workshops are mostly of the -poor but industrious Hebrews who toil early -and late to build up a little business in this -land of freedom, a business which is really and -truly their own, to have and to hold without -persecution or robbery.</p> - -<p>The house where Morris Goldberg had found -a shelter and a chance to show of what stuff he<span class="pagenum">[4]</span> -was made was, if possible, a little more disreputable -in appearance than the others in that -row, but to him, who had gone through the horrors -of the Kishineff massacre, robbed of his -all, save his wife and little daughter, it seemed -a peaceful haven of delight.</p> - -<p>The little destitute family had been assisted -to start, in this humble location, by the noble -and practical Benevolent Society of the Hebrews -in New York, and, though a cellar whose -only light came through grated windows or the -opened cellar-doors, this seemed to him a palace. -Was he not free from persecution? His -good wife and little daughter and he were free, -free. One must have been a Jew in Russia to -know what freedom means.</p> - -<p>Morris Goldberg was a shoemaker and plied -his humble calling with such patient industry, -and such thrift, that after a year of struggle he -had proudly paid back the money loaned him, -and then he moved his wife and daughter to the -back room on the floor above, while he pegged -and sewed and smoked and sang at his work.</p> - -<p>The daughter grew into a beautiful womanhood, -with all the rich coloring of her race, with -snowy teeth, thick waving black hair, and beautiful -large dark eyes.</p> - -<p>She was the loveliest girl in all the neighborhood,<span class="pagenum">[5]</span> -with a dainty, graceful figure and a gay, -merry soul. Words could not tell how she loved -her father; for, after a few years of peace and -joy in this land, the mother, who had never recovered -from the horrors through which she had -passed, died. Her last hours were so sweetly -peaceful that the loss to those left behind was -more of a chastened sorrow than a poignant -grief.</p> - -<p>Dora was now sixteen, and matured like the -maidens of her race.</p> - -<p>The father loved Dora with a brooding tenderness -almost womanlike in its intensity, and -her little hands held his very heart in their -grasp. Nothing she did seemed wrong to him, -and everything she wanted, that was in his -power to give, she had.</p> - -<p>Above all, he was proud of her education, for -that had been his first desire. Dora was kept in -school when other girls of her age had worked -in factories. She kept house for him in the -room above the shop, and she was a good, sweet, -obedient daughter. What more could a man -ask? A business that kept them from want, and -something left over every month. No wonder -the honest shoemaker sang as he worked in his -little shop as he listened to the steps of his -daughter above.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp59" style="max-width: 40.625em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i037.jpg" alt="Morris Goldberg, the Shoemaker."> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[6]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>This brief preamble brings the reader to the -day and hour when the first movements in this -moving human drama began.</p> - -<p>Morris Goldberg had left his humble store in -charge of Dora and a little semi-idiotic boy, -whom he had rescued from the streets. The little -fellow was thin and white, and dressed in a -medley of garments purchased for him from a -second-hand store nearby. The child was trying -to sew a shoe while seated upon the vacant -bench. Dora sat beside him, trying to guide -the clumsy fingers, with infinite patience.</p> - -<p>“Now, this way, Loney; both ends at the same -time. One this way and one that way. Oh, you -will succeed if you keep on. You’ll be as good -a shoemaker as father some day.”</p> - -<p>“I’m trying, Dora. I try so hard, but my -hands won’t mind me. I’m just no good at all.”</p> - -<p>This the child said with such an expression -of utter discouragement that Dora put her -plump arm around the little figure, saying:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[7]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, yes you are, Loney. You do lots of -things, and you are splendid for errands.”</p> - -<p>“Anybody can run errands; but I want to be -something else than an errand-boy. I want to -know how to do other things—how to be something -in the world, but my head won’t let me. -It gets all ‘hurty’ when I try to think what I -want to do.”</p> - -<p>“Poor little Loney! Tell me how you got hurt, -Loney? You have never told me that. Can’t you -tell me now? Maybe the doctor could cure it if -we knew how it happened. Try to remember.”</p> - -<p>The poor, thin little hand went to his head -uncertainly, while Loney knitted his brows trying -to remember. Then he said; dreamily:</p> - -<p>“Sometimes I can think it out right, and -sometimes I can’t. I remember I had a mother -once—pretty, like you—but different. She had -light hair and such nice blue eyes. She was -awful pretty. And I had a father, too; and he -was big and handsome. We used to ride in a -carriage. Sometimes I can remember the big -Park, and all the people walking around and in -carriages, and then I forget. Then I remember -that my father quarreled a lot with my -mother and she cried lots, and one day he was -going to hit her, and I ran between them and -he struck me instead. Then something fell out<span class="pagenum">[8]</span> -of my head that they remember with. I guess -it was when the blood ran so. Don’t you think -so?”</p> - -<p>“Poor boy! Poor little Loney!” said Dora, -while great tears ran down her rosy cheeks and -fell on the bright curls of the little waif. He -continued, after a short silence:</p> - -<p>“The next I remember, I was in a place where -there were lots of children. I was there a long -time. Then I wanted my mother so bad that I -ran away. They searched for me and nearly -found me, but I hid in a box, and one of the -men said, ‘Let him go. He hasn’t any sense, -anyway.’”</p> - -<p>The little fellow broke down and sobbed pitifully, -while Dora said:</p> - -<p>“Don’t cry, Loney. Don’t cry. We will take -good care of you.”</p> - -<p>“And then I sold papers and half-starved. -The other boys kicked me around a lot and -made fun of me ’cause I couldn’t remember. -And they named me Loney, and then I came -here; and your father lets me run errands—and—that’s -all.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you worry, Loney. You know what -my father says, that when business picks up a -little he will take you to the good doctor and<span class="pagenum">[9]</span> -see if you can’t be cured, so you will remember.”</p> - -<p>“That’s hard for me to think out, Dora.”</p> - -<p>“Why hard? What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“I am nothing to your father. He is poor, -and it seems so funny, for he is—is——”</p> - -<p>“A Jew. Say it, Loney. Don’t be afraid. A -Jew can be a good man, an honest one, a good -father, and a good citizen. He loves me, his -daughter, and he has a heart—a big one—for -all in need. He has pity for them. You are -mistaken if you think differently. I have seen -him divide his last crust with the hungry—yes, -and give them the largest share. Oh, Loney, -my father is good.”</p> - -<p>“You are right. He has divided with me; -and, Dora, some day God will bless him for it.”</p> - -<p>At that moment there were steps heard on the -rickety cellar-steps, and in another moment a -young man—scarcely more than a boy—came -to the door. He was a typical “Bowery tough,” -made so by his life in this part of the city, with -its most unsavory reputation. He wore a faded -corduroy cap, set at an aggressive angle on his -frowsy head, and for the rest of his costume -he wore a blue flannel shirt, open at the throat, -and corduroy pantaloons. His shoes looked as -though in urgent need of the services of the<span class="pagenum">[10]</span> -shoemaker. His face was dirty, and one of his -eyes was blackened and swollen. And, over it all, -there showed something so depraved and sinister, -such a drawn look of pallor and decay, in -spite of his youth, a stranger would not have -known how to classify this strange output of -city life, but the initiated would have summed -it all up in one word—dope. This means the -unutterable depravity of opium-smoking. In -fact, he was generally known in his haunts as -Dopey.</p> - -<p>As he stood on the floor of the shop, Dopey -said, in a hoarse voice:</p> - -<p>“Hello, Sis. Where’s de main squeeze?”</p> - -<p>“Where is what?”</p> - -<p>“Why, his gazootses; de motza crusher—de -man wit’ de birt’mark o’ t’ree balls on his skull-front—de -boss, if I must say it.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean my father?”</p> - -<p>“I guess so. Where is ’e?”</p> - -<p>“He went out to deliver a pair of shoes he -has finished and to bring back some to be -mended.”</p> - -<p>“Why, soy, go find ’im. I got a job fer ’im. -Dey’s a couple of swell guys up de street dat -needs his ’sisterence. De he guy say dat he’ll -stake me ter a dollar. De moll kicked de heel off -her Louie Fourteent’ an’ wants it nailed on.<span class="pagenum">[11]</span> -Dat dollar means de hop-joint if I get it, an’ to -de bat-house if I don’t. Why, soy, dere’s nuttin’ -to it.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go and find him,” said Loney, in his -childish voice. He somewhat understood this -Bowery slang better than Dora.</p> - -<p>“Dat’s de trick. Be sure ye does, for if I -misses dis I kin see de brassy cop on dis beat -pullin’ de hook fer de ambylants, an’ me t’rowin’ -a fit in de suds-tub at de croak-joint—de -horspittle. Hully gee! mosey, kid. Shake yer -skates.”</p> - -<p>These last words were accompanied by so -suggestive a movement that Loney sprang -lightly up the steps and disappeared in search -of Mr. Goldberg. As the child disappeared, he -shouted:</p> - -<p>“Hop! Go! Git!” Then, turning to Dora, he -said: “Dat’s de racket. Your old man’ll git -more coin for dis job dan he ever seen afore.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be glad,” replied Dora, half-afraid of -this strange-looking creature, “for business -has been very poor lately.”</p> - -<p>There was a darkening of the cellar-door, -and Dora raised her eyes to see a tall, dark, -handsome and well-dressed man assisting a lady -down the steps. She was a handsome and very -stylishly dressed woman—large and with a<span class="pagenum">[12]</span> -most unwomanly expression on her features. -In short, it was but too evident that she had -been drinking and could scarcely maintain her -equilibrium.</p> - -<p>“Be careful, Muriel, or you’ll fall,” said the -man, whose name was John Pierson. “Why -the deuce can’t you wear sensible shoes, anyway? -You’ll break your neck with those high -heels yet!”</p> - -<p>As they reached the middle of the room, Muriel -laughed idiotically and mumbled something -about him and accused him of trying to appear -so “su-su-perior, just because I kicked my heel -off.”</p> - -<p>“So this is the place, eh?” asked Pierson of -Dopey, looking about him curiously at the same -time. Dopey took on an air of great importance -and replied, huskily:</p> - -<p>“Dis is de j’int. It’s on de bum, all right, all -right, but it’s de nearest shoemaker dere is, -but——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s all right. Any old port in a storm, -you know,” stammered Muriel, and, as she saw -Dora, she said: “Who you, m’ dear?”</p> - -<p>“Dora Goldberg, lady.”</p> - -<p>“And who is the other girl? Your sister?”</p> - -<p>“There is no one else here but me,” replied -Dora, surprised at the question.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[13]</span></p> - -<p>“That’s funny. I must be seeing double. Last -bottle gone to my head. Time to quit. All your -fault, John Pierson—all your fault, not mine,” -muttered the woman, with a maudlin laugh, -staggering at the same time so that Dora -thought she was falling. She hastened to bring -a chair, where the woman tried to seat herself -with extreme gravity, while Dora said:</p> - -<p>“Don’t thank me, lady. I’ll go and hurry -father. Please have the kindness to wait. I -won’t be long.”</p> - -<p>Dora tripped lightly up the steps and to the -street, while Muriel settled herself into the -chair and dozed almost at once. In the meantime -Pierson silently watched Dora disappear, -and then, turning to Dopey, said, in a low voice:</p> - -<p>“You are right. She is both young and beautiful.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, cull, and poor; jes’ as poor as a choich -mouse. Show her some shines—dimints, I mean. -Tell her about de glad rags, de nags and de -chariot—and, soy, dere’s nuttin’ to it!”</p> - -<p>“Hush! Not so loud,” replied Pierson, looking -toward Muriel, which caused him to speak -in a much lower tone as he gave his very unfavorable -opinion of the intoxicated woman, comparing -her to a bunch of wildcats. Suddenly -Muriel roused and began to sing, in a drowsy<span class="pagenum">[14]</span> -voice, the words of a drinking-song. Pierson -rudely ordered her to “shut up,” which had no -other effect than to make the woman repeat her -song in a louder voice.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I say, for heaven’s sake, keep still! Of -all the disgusting things on earth, a drunken -woman is the worst,” said Pierson angrily, -while he stamped his foot in rage.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said she, acridly, “and how about a -drunken man? Is there such a wide difference?”</p> - -<p>“I never took a drink in my life and you know -it, Muriel Hamilton.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t count you a man. You are a -beast, you are!”</p> - -<p>“Thanks, awfully,” replied he, bowing scornfully.</p> - -<p>Muriel tried to rise and bow, but fell back in -the chair with a silly laugh. “Oh, you are welcome. -Gee! I nearly fell off my perch. Steady, -birdie, steady!”</p> - -<p>Pierson strode back and forth in the little -place, finally stopping before the woman, saying:</p> - -<p>“You may as well understand this, now, Muriel. -I am sick and tired of the way you are -going on. I know I’ve done some things that -would not stand the light of day exactly, but I -never drank. I’ve committed some crimes, but<span class="pagenum">[15]</span> -drunkenness has never been one of them, and I -hate liquor. I tell you this, right now: you’ve -got to sober up and stop drinking—or—I’ll quit -you cold.”</p> - -<p>At this open threat, Muriel sat up straight -and looked at the man half-defiant, half-scared. -He maintained his coldly resolute look, while -she scanned his face, and then half-laughed:</p> - -<p>“By heaven! I believe you mean it. Just you -try it on, Jack Pierson. Just you try it on, -that’s all!”</p> - -<p>“I’ll take a stroll. I needs de fresh air. It’s -de sidewalk fer mine,” said Dopey, uneasily. -He had seen too many drunken fights to wish to -see another, especially with a powerful woman -like Muriel. But Jack went to him and muttered:</p> - -<p>“You stay here. I’ll have it out with her -here and now. I want to make room for the -other one.”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said Muriel, as she rose almost steadily -and advanced, “any secrets that I cannot -know?”</p> - -<p>“No, there is not. I was just telling him that -I am sick of your constant sprees and temper. -That’s all, and I mean it.”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said Muriel, advancing and with a -dangerous light in her eyes, “and, I suppose,<span class="pagenum">[16]</span> -you meant it when you deserted your honest -wife for me, and when you struck your child, -and killed him, for all you know. Yes, you must -have meant both those things; as you never took -a drink in your life, you had not even the excuse -of drunkenness. Mine was a new face -then, and now that the liquor that you gave me -to gain your ends has got the best of me, you’ll -quit me cold, will you? Then, let me tell you, -when you do it will be cold for you, for you will -be dead!”</p> - -<p>“’Scuse me, cull, I hear me mudder callin’ -me, an’ I has to go,” said Dopey.</p> - -<p>“Go to the devil, if you want to,” replied -Pierson angrily.</p> - -<p>“Dat’s jes’ where I don’t want to go. Her -jigs is up to de boilin’ point, an’ all dem sharp -shoe-knives lyin’ dere. See me eye. She put dis -on it last night. One’s enough fer me.”</p> - -<p>“Now, Dopey, I’m sorry I hit you, honest I -am. Say, Jack, you don’t know what sent me on -this spree, do you?” said Muriel.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know and I don’t care,” replied Jack -coldly. “There is no excuse for it.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, there is, I saw your forsaken, heart-broken -wife slinking along in the street—a -wreck, a ragged, gin-soaked wreck—and I -couldn’t help remembering what she was when<span class="pagenum">[17]</span> -we robbed her, you and me. She was honest -and true, and, as I looked at her, the sight sickened -me, body and soul. I drank to forget it.”</p> - -<p>“Why do you mention her to me. I have -never seen her since, and never want to.”</p> - -<p>“Nor the boy, either? Poor little half-witted -fellow. Give me credit for one thing—I wanted -to keep him and care for him, but, no, you -robbed his mother of him and put him in the -asylum. These things haunt me, Jack. Even -drink will not blot them out.”</p> - -<p>“Rot! That’s nothing but the drink. My -ex-wife should have stayed in the West. She -was so pretty and pure and honest that she actually -led me to marry her. I hated her for that -from the first.”</p> - -<p>“Yours is coming to you, Jack, and you’ll get -it good and plenty if ever her brother sets eyes -on you. Those cowboys know how to shoot,” -laughed Muriel meaningly.</p> - -<p>“Don’t try to frighten me. William Hunter, -or ‘Cactus Bill’ Hunter, as they called him, is -dead. I had a letter telling me that he has disappeared, -so I’m not afraid.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe—and maybe not. But, if ever you -two do meet, you’d better get your gun-play in -first. So, then,” she continued, in a softer tone, -“you want to quit your old pal? And just after<span class="pagenum">[18]</span> -my being up all night on the Bowery, helping -you fleece this ‘come on.’ Not much gratitude!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, forget it,” said Pierson roughly, changing -his tone and manner suddenly, as he saw -Dora returning with Loney. The young girl -hastened down the steps, flushed and rosy with -her hurried search.</p> - -<p>“My father is coming. I hope we did not -keep you waiting too long.”</p> - -<p>Muriel had sat down again in the chair, and -her head had fallen forward drowsily, while -John, with a side look at Muriel, said to Dora:</p> - -<p>“No, my little dear, I am repaid for the long -wait by seeing you again. Don’t you ever get -tired of this musty old cellar? Wouldn’t you -like to live in a fine house, with servants to wait -upon you, and have beautiful diamonds and -clothes to wear?”</p> - -<p>“Oh no, sir! I would not leave papa and Bennie -for all the fine houses and jewels in the -world. And, besides, we don’t <em>live</em> in the cellar. -We only work here. We live upstairs.”</p> - -<p>While this little conversation was taking -place, Muriel had roused again, but this time -her eyes were fastened upon little Loney, who -had begun to wax some threads for the shoemaker. -This was a task that he delighted in<span class="pagenum">[19]</span> -doing. He had been told that it was a great -help to the kind old man. Muriel, after staring -at the child, asked what his name was. The little -fellow looked at her in a vague manner as -he said:</p> - -<p>“Loney, lady. Just Loney. That’s all the -name I know.”</p> - -<p>As the pretty, though vague, eyes were raised -to hers, Muriel gave a start, saying to herself:</p> - -<p>“Those eyes! That look in them. It is he -without a doubt.”</p> - -<p>The hardened woman gave a deep sob which, -with Dora’s calm refusal of all he offered her, -made John angry, and he said, roughly shaking -her at the same time:</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with you, you idiot?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing,” replied she, “only my sins are -finding me out. That is all.”</p> - -<p>Further conversation was checked by the arrival -of Morris Goldberg, who came quietly -down the cellar-steps to his shop.</p> - -<p>The old man wore his leather apron, and had -his sleeves rolled to his elbows, thus showing a -pair of brawny arms and toil-roughened hands. -In one of them he carried a pair of old shoes to -be mended. With unconscious dignity the old -man advanced toward his customers, and<span class="pagenum">[20]</span> -when Dora asked, impetuously, what had kept -him so long, he told her quietly that there was -more bad news from Russia, from Odessa this -time, where the unfortunate Jews were being -butchered and driven like noxious beasts before -the terrible Cossacks.</p> - -<p>“And I must stop to say somedings to ’courage -Jake Rosenblum. He’s old fader and moder -are in Odessa.”</p> - -<p>Then, turning to Jack Pierson, he said:</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, sir. Can I do somedings for -you?”</p> - -<p>“Are you the shoemaker?” asked John.</p> - -<p>“Am I a shoemaker? Am <em>I</em> a shoemaker? -Vell, I shust say I vos a shoemaker. And I can -make a pair of shoes vile you vait, if you vait -long enough. Say, who are you?”</p> - -<p>“It’s none of your business. This lady here -has knocked the heel of her shoe off, and she -wants you to put it on. That’s enough for you -to know; so get busy.”</p> - -<p>“All right, all right,” said the old man, taking -his seat on the bench and preparing for his -work.</p> - -<p>Dopey took a stool and sat down facing the -old man, putting his own foot, encased in a very -dilapidated shoe, almost in the old man’s face,<span class="pagenum">[21]</span> -at the same time leering at the old man very unpleasantly, -who said:</p> - -<p>“Oie, oie! Vot a face. You looks like a pull-dog. -Vat you vant. A patch for de plack eye—eh?”</p> - -<p>“Never mind me mug,” said Dopey, insolently, -“nor me lamp. What’ll it cost me to get me -skates fixed?—dey’s in a bad way.”</p> - -<p>“Vell, you pring me a pair of soles, unt I’ll -put some uppers on dem.”</p> - -<p>“Muriel,” said John, “stay here as long as -you like. I am going out to get a bite to eat, -and, when you are through, come up to Lyons’ -restaurant or go home. I don’t care which.”</p> - -<p>“All right, darling. I suppose I shall be able -to survive your absence.”</p> - -<p>“Come on, Dopey. I suppose you want your -dollar,” said Pierson, who had his idea in wishing -to get Dopey outside.</p> - -<p>“I’m ready. I’se dead hungry for a bullet,” -said Dopey, a gleam of anticipation in his -glassy eyes.</p> - -<p>Morris Goldberg said to himself, “He must -be one of dem suiciders. Vat for kind of talk -is dot apout a bullet?”</p> - -<p>John and Dopey left the place, and as soon -as they were outside, John said to Dopey, nodding -his head toward Dora:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[22]</span></p> - -<p>“She is all you said, and more. Help me to -land her, and you’ll never know what it means -to go hungry for opium again.”</p> - -<p>They then walked along out of sight of the -humble shoemaker’s shop.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[23]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Morris Goldberg, by this time, was ready to -wait upon Muriel, who seemed to be slowly overcoming -the effects of the drink she had taken. -And, in a few moments, the shoemaker had fixed -the price at twenty cents for the work he was -to do.</p> - -<p>Morris took the dainty shoe and went to work -at it, blind to the blandishments that come so -natural to a woman of her class—so natural -that they are tried upon every man whosoever -he may be.</p> - -<p>Dora took Loney upstairs, to give him something -to eat, and incidentally to add a few -touches to her toilet, for was not Bennie coming? -Bennie, whom Dora loved next to her -father, and somewhat more than Loney; Bennie, -the bright, clever and industrious young -man whose heart was fixed upon the pretty -Dora.</p> - -<p>Muriel suddenly turned in her chair so as to -face the shoemaker, who was busily at work, -and said, in a strident voice:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[24]</span></p> - -<p>“Say, do you know, I like you?”</p> - -<p>The man before her was so surprised by this -remark that he let his work fall and looked at -her, but she had turned her head, and asked:</p> - -<p>“Say, do you know why I like you?”</p> - -<p>The man hastily reflected that it could not be -for his money, and a dim idea dawned upon him -that he must be a rather nice-looking man, and—he -simpered a little as he sheepishly replied:</p> - -<p>“Sure, I know. I am not so bad-looking yet.”</p> - -<p>“No, not that; but it is because you are living -here in this God-forsaken cellar that isn’t -fit for rats, living from hand to mouth, and yet -you take in and feed that half-witted boy that -you told your daughter to give some gonsalabus, -whatever that is. It must be good, though, -for I saw the little chap’s look of pleasure. -That’s why.”</p> - -<p>“Vot de poy get? Yust a place to sleep, someding -to eat unt run errants. He don’t cost much, -led him stay. I am from a family who will always -help dose who neet it. Our mutter raised -us dat vay.”</p> - -<p>Muriel looked at the shoemaker with sincere -and open admiration while she said:</p> - -<p>“I guess it’s you all right. Those things -must be in the heart, or they wouldn’t come -out.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[25]</span></p> - -<p>The shoemaker, with a smothered sigh, picked -up the dainty shoe and started again to fit the -high heel into its place, when he thought of a -brilliant remark; and he made it:</p> - -<p>“Yes, lady; der same as der measles.”</p> - -<p>“I guess that’s right,” replied Muriel.</p> - -<p>“Dot is only right dot we shall help oder peoples -vot is worser off dan ve are. Der same Gott -is ofer us all, and I can nefer forget dot I haf -ein daughter of mine, und dot if anyt’ing effer -happen to her I shall vant somepody’s fader to -do py mein child as I do py deirs. Here is your -shoe, lady; it is fixet.”</p> - -<p>“Put it on, please,” said Muriel, holding out -her shapely foot.</p> - -<p>The shoemaker drew back. He had fitted on -many a shoe for the dwellers of that neighborhood, -and it never occurred to him to be afraid -nor ashamed, but this was different. He put -powder in the shoe, and all over the extended -foot in his confusion, but at last the shoe was -on. Muriel stamped the foot a couple of times -and asked how much it was. The man stammered:</p> - -<p>“Nodings, nodings. I put it down to profit -und loss.”</p> - -<p>“But I insist. You cannot make a living that -way.” And she, quietly and unobserved, laid<span class="pagenum">[26]</span> -some money on the bench as she started toward -the cellar-steps, her head almost clear. But before -she could reach the steps Helen Pierson -came to the cellar-door, and as she started down -the first step she staggered and stumbled down -the rest, reaching the room almost falling. At -the same moment Loney came in from the door -leading to the upper room. Muriel started as -she saw the wretched creature whose fair heritage -of womanhood was thus wrecked and besodden -in gin, and drew aside, turning her back -so that the unfortunate creature could not recognize -her. For it was Helen Pierson, John -Pierson’s abandoned and forsaken wife, who -stood there staggering and reeling. The sordid -and soiled rags that covered her so scantily told -plainly to what a depth the poor creature, once -so neat, had descended. No wonder Muriel, who -had been the cause of this downfall, hurried to -the darkest corner, shuddering and muttering:</p> - -<p>“It is she! My God! It is she!”</p> - -<p>As Helen tottered forward, almost falling, -Loney caught her and helped her to sit on the -bench, aided by Morris.</p> - -<p>Then Muriel, seizing the chance while all -three were by the bench, hurriedly stepped to -the door and up the steps, muttering:</p> - -<p>“Mother and child together, and neither one<span class="pagenum">[27]</span> -knows it. This is my work, mine, mine! And -then he wonders that I drink to drown it out.”</p> - -<p>“Holt her up, Loney,” said Morris. “I will -delephone Dora to pring a trink of vater. Der -poor voman is sick.”</p> - -<p>With a childlike innocence Morris picked up -a tin-box with a string attached to it, and by -dint of shouting very loudly his request to Dora -to bring a glass of water, he made himself heard -and she came with it, while the father was anxiously -muttering:</p> - -<p>“Mine Loney, dot voman is in a bad fix. She -cannot speak nor see anydings, not now, but if -she goes on like dis she will see more dings in -a minute dan effer she see in her life pefore.”</p> - -<p>Dora brought the water, and the dazed creature -drank it as Morris held it to her lips without -knowing what it was. The shoemaker had -been half-afraid to give it, for fear of some convulsion, -but as Helen drank it she revived somewhat -and looked at Morris, then at Loney. She -stared at the child with an intensity that surprised -Dora and Morris, while she asked Loney, -in a husky whisper:</p> - -<p>“Who are you?”</p> - -<p>“I am Loney.”</p> - -<p>“Loney! And where’s your father and -mother?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[28]</span></p> - -<p>“Dead, I guess. I can just remember them, -and that’s all,” said the child.</p> - -<p>“I had a child once, a boy—he is dead, I -guess, and I can just remember him. A little -boy who loved me. A baby whom I had taught -to pray—but now he is gone with all the rest.”</p> - -<p>“Mein poor vomans. Vot has brought you to -dis?”</p> - -<p>“Gin, or the want of it. Send the children -away, and I will tell you.”</p> - -<p>“Dot’s a good girl, Dora; take de Loney und -go py der oder room, der laty vants to make a -secrets.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, papa,” said Dora, looking sympathetically -at the unfortunate woman, “call me if you -want me.”</p> - -<p>The shoemaker looked at Dora, then in her -girlish grace and purity, and then at the poor -creature on the bench, and held out his arm to -Dora.</p> - -<p>“Come here, mein child. Kiss de fader. If -anyt’ing shall efer happen to you, mein daughter—dot -vould kill your fader!”</p> - -<p>“But nothing—like this—will ever happen to -me, father,” said Dora, kissing him fondly and -smiling at him bravely.</p> - -<p>“Dot’s de mudder’s eyes looking at me, -Dora—de eyes of your mudder, vot is now<span class="pagenum">[29]</span> -dead—there,” he added, with a sob, “run along -mit Loney and play pinochle.”</p> - -<p>Dora and Loney ran out of the shop, smiling -back at the shoemaker, who turned to the now -weeping woman, saying:</p> - -<p>“They have gone now.”</p> - -<p>“What I have to say will not take long. I -was a wife—an honest wife. My husband deserted -me for another woman, robbed me of my -child and left me to die alone. He had taught -me to take an occasional drink, saying that my -health required it. In my trouble I turned to -it, and before I realized it—well—it has brought -me to this.”</p> - -<p>“Vell, don’t you t’ink it has brought you far -enough? If you go much farder you vill fall -ofer. Vy don’t you quit?”</p> - -<p>“Look at me,” said Helen, showing her shaking -hand. “See my hand shaking like an aspen. -I am all but dead, and the craving for that awful -stuff is eating out my vitals. Quit! Quit! Don’t -you see it is too late, too late!”</p> - -<p>“Vy are you talking—it is only half-past -eight. Look, mein poor vomans. Read you dot -sign of mein.”</p> - -<p>Saying these last words, the poor shoemaker -pointed to an illuminated card hung against the<span class="pagenum">[30]</span> -wall, and Helen slowly rose and looked at it, -reading aloud:</p> - -<p class="center">“<a id="BRef_30" href="#Ref_30">It is never too late to mend.</a>” -</p> - -<p>“Dot’s right. It is nefer too late to mend an -olt shoe, nor der human heart—neider von.”</p> - -<div id="Ref_30" class="figcenter illowp60" style="max-width: 40.625em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i138.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"><p class="center">“<span class="smcap"><a href="#BRef_30">It’s never too late to mend</a></span>”</p></div> -</div> - -<p>“Do you think that is true, Mister? Is there -any hope for a battered wreck like me?”</p> - -<p>“As true dot ve stant here lifing, dere is always -hope, always. Dit not Gott pring vater -for Israel from der dry rock of Horeb? Dit Gott -not sent quail in der vilderness? Is Gott’s great -arm come veak? No, it is yust so strong as effer -it vos. Vot you vant is to go far from here and -pegin all ofer again vere no one knows you. -Here is death, dere is safeness, hope, a new life—a -petter von.”</p> - -<p>“How am I to get there? All I have are these -few rags, this shattered body, and the fragments -of a woman’s broken heart.”</p> - -<p>As the poor creature sobbed out these words, -Loney came quietly into the room, and as he -heard them the child knelt silently behind the -bench and folded his thin hands in prayer unobserved.</p> - -<p>Morris stood a moment silent, and then he -said, solemnly:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[31]</span></p> - -<p>“In the name of my dead vife, and of mein -lifing child, I vill help you to go, if you vill -promise me dot you will nefer drink again.”</p> - -<p>Helen turned and fixed her humid eyes upon -the sign, and again read aloud, “It is never too -late to mend.” Then her eyes fell on the kneeling -child, and she crossed to the side where he -was, and, placing her trembling hand on his -head, asked tremulously:</p> - -<p>“What are you doing, my boy?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know why, but I am praying for -you.”</p> - -<p>“And Almighty God has heard you, for I -shall never want to drink again,” said Helen, -with a strange sense of freedom from the enslaving -habit, while the child said simply that -he knew it would be so.</p> - -<p>Helen then turned to the shoemaker, with a -new light in her eyes, saying:</p> - -<p>“I am going to the dispensary for something -for my nerves, and I will come back and accept -your help. And you, little boy—I know I am -low-down—but—and so unworthy—but will you -let me kiss you for the prayer you said?”</p> - -<p>For answer, the child lifted his face to hers -and kissed her, all the while seeming to be trying -to see something through a maze.</p> - -<p>A great sob tore the bosom beneath the sordid<span class="pagenum">[32]</span> -rags, as the sweet breath of the little boy swept -over her face, and Helen sobbed:</p> - -<p>“That’s the first pure thing that has touched -my lips for so long that I can’t remember. And -I’m going to try to take it with me to the throne -of God. May He bless and protect you, whosesoever -child you are, in the name of a broken-hearted -mother who has lost her own little -boy.”</p> - -<p>The shoemaker dug his big fists into his eyes, -muttering something about the wax getting into -his eyes, so that he could not see just then, while -Helen, straighter now, and with a new purpose -showing through her sodden features and ennobling -them to womanhood again, said:</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, for a while, Mr.—Mr.——”</p> - -<p>“Goldberg—Morris Goldberg, madam. I’ll -pe reaty for you to-morrow ven you come. And -don’t forget de number, nor dot”—pointing to -the card.</p> - -<p>“The God of us all will bless you for this -day’s work. Good-bye. It is never too late to -mend. Thank God! it is never too late to mend!”</p> - -<p>Helen, pale, but now strong in her new resolution -and hope, left the humble shop and went -out into the street, while the shoemaker went to -a niche in a corner, and drew aside a curtain<span class="pagenum">[33]</span> -which had covered the sacred Shema, muttering, -as he did so:</p> - -<p>“Hear ye, O Israel. There is but one God”—and -ending with a fervent prayer for the saving -of the soul in peril who had just left there. And -he wist not that his face shone.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[34]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>As Helen Pierson disappeared from their -sight, Loney turned to Morris Goldberg, saying:</p> - -<p>“Mr. Goldberg, how can you help that poor -lady when you are so poor yourself? It takes -a lot of money, don’t it, to go West? I heard -some of the boys at the asylum say it takes -more ’n fifteen dollars, and that’s an awful lot. -That is more than you have, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Vell, Loney, somedimes you make me t’ink -you vos got more sense as meinselluf. You say -such schmart t’ings, but dot’s a goot investment, -Loney, alvays. Der good Gott, He pays -it back. For efery dollar I gif avay in charity -I gets me two und a halluf back again. I haf -vorked hart und safed, und so I will help her.”</p> - -<p>“But I am a burden on you, ain’t I?”</p> - -<p>“Burten noding! Vot do you got? A place -to sleep, mit somedimes somedings good to eat, -und somedimes nodings but preat und milluk. -If you vos not here I should haf to pay a poy<span class="pagenum">[35]</span> -t’ree dollars a veek. Make you no mistake on -dot. I am a peezness man, mit mine eye open -for der matsuma.”</p> - -<p>While Loney was trying to ponder over this -statement, Dora came dancing into the room, -holding out a tiny blue baby’s shoe, saying, joyfully:</p> - -<p>“Oh see, papa. See! I found it. I found it -in mama’s old cedar chest. The first shoe I ever -wore. We thought it was lost, but I found it. -Oh, I’m so glad!”</p> - -<p>The shoemaker took the tiny thing in his -hand and looked at it through misty eyes, and -with a laugh that was half a sob, he said:</p> - -<p>“Vell, vot do you t’ink of dot for a shoe? It -is a number nodings. You cannot vear dot now, -mein child.”</p> - -<p>“Hardly,” laughed Dora, holding out a -plump and pretty foot.</p> - -<p>“How shall I forget der time I maket dot -shoe? Dere you vos in der bed, mit your mudder, -und ven I dit showed it to her she dit laugh -und cry at der same time. Den she vent avay -to sleep, mit der little shoe py her lips, vere she -kiss it. Now she sleep dot long sleep dot vill -know no vaking. I vill put dis vere it vill not -get lost again, until I can get Somolus Levinsky -to put it in his safe for me.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[36]</span></p> - -<p>More moved than Dora had ever seen her -father, she watched him as he put the precious -little shoe in his breast pocket and walked back -and forth, struggling with his emotion. He had -loved his wife with a deep and strong affection, -and her death had never found him comforted. -Dora resembled her mother, and all the lonely -man’s love centered upon her now. And the -child loved him, and was in one, daughter and -companion, loving, obedient and worthy in -every way.</p> - -<p>Just as Dora was beginning to feel half-alarmed -at her father’s strange actions, there -was a light step on the cellar-steps and a gay -and pleasant voice heard, saying:</p> - -<p>“Hello, Mr. Goldberg! Hello, Dora! Hello, -Loney! How are you all?”</p> - -<p>The shoemaker brightened up at once and -turned to greet the newcomer—a handsome and -alert young Jew. Neatly dressed and self-respecting -he was, and full of joy at his reception -and the news he had to impart. Morris -held out his hand heartily.</p> - -<p>“Ah, de Bennie. I’m glad to see you, Bennie. -Vot’s der matter vit’ your face, Dora? It -is red, like de roses.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing, papa,” answered Dora, who had<span class="pagenum">[37]</span> -modestly and shyly drawn backward to the -darkest corner.</p> - -<p>“Good news, Mr. Goldberg! Good news!” -cried Bennie, dancing about lightly, but with -his eyes fixed upon the pretty Dora.</p> - -<p>“Vell, tell it, Bennie. Dere has been noding -in de shop to-day but troubles, und heartaches, -und sorrows.”</p> - -<p>“I have been promoted to assistant foreman -of the cigar factory, with my wages doubled.”</p> - -<p>This was said with an anxious glance in the -direction of Dora, which was met by a radiant -smile.</p> - -<p>“Goot! Goot! Vat are you smiling at, like -dot, Dora? Vot you got to do mit Bennie’s goot -fortune?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, papa,” said Dora, hiding her face, while -Bennie manfully took his stand beside her. The -father was suddenly enlightened, and, after a -brief second, he drew himself together and said:</p> - -<p>“Vell, I am not plint. I can see dot two is -company and four is a procession. Come, Loney, -I vant you to go mit me to de oder rooms und -help me to sweep de Oriental rugs.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Goldberg, can I take Dora—and Loney—up -de street for a treat? It is up to me now.”</p> - -<p>“To treat de Dora and de Loney? Sure, -treat dem—but treat dem right.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[38]</span></p> - -<p>“And you, too, Mr. Goldberg. Won’t you -come?” said Bennie, anxious to gain Mr. Goldberg’s -good graces.</p> - -<p>“Not so. I cannot leafe. I must fix a pair -of prize-fighting shoes for de Kid Broad, und -if I get dem not done my name will be—vat you -call it, Bennie? Oh, yes, a dead von, Bennie!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mr. Goldberg.”</p> - -<p>“Bring it me von fife-cents stogies und I vill -smoke you de goot luck. Come, Loney, let us -go und bolish de piano.”</p> - -<p>Saying this, the shoemaker took the child’s -hand and started to the upper room, leaving -Bennie and Dora alone. Ben was too clever to -allow such an opportunity for a heart-to-heart -talk to pass, so he said:</p> - -<p>“Are you glad, Dora, that it has come at -last?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Bennie; very glad for your sake.”</p> - -<p>“And aren’t you glad just a little for <em>our</em> -sakes?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Bennie,” whispered Dora, shyly.</p> - -<p>“You know that you promised, when my -wages were raised—that—if the father consents, -you would be my wife.”</p> - -<p>“Did you ask him, Bennie? But it is not because -your pay is raised——”</p> - -<p>“I know that, Dora. But, you know, I would<span class="pagenum">[39]</span> -not want you until I could take good care of -you. So, if it wasn’t for the wages, why did -you promise, Dora?”</p> - -<p>“I promised because I love you, Bennie,” -said Dora, simply and sweetly, at the same time -holding out both her hands, which Bennie took -and held; and then, growing bolder, he put one -arm around her and drew her to him and reverently -kissed the upturned brow so confidingly -raised.</p> - -<p>At that moment the father entered the shop, -thinking they had gone, and stood a second looking -at them, with many emotions struggling on -his honest face, but he rallied and said, lightly:</p> - -<p>“I might make you marry her for dot, Bennie.”</p> - -<p>“Oh do, Mr. Goldberg. Please do. You know -I have loved Dora ever since I came here a little -boy and she was a baby. It would be no -punishment—or else it would be a sweet one. -Eh, Dora?”</p> - -<p>“Den you shall be punished, Bennie. You -are a good, hard-working poy, und some day, in -a year or two, ven you are both a little older, -you shall have mein chilt.”</p> - -<p>“I thank you, Mr. Goldberg—father—more -than I can say.”</p> - -<p>“Dank Dora, not me. She chooset you. I<span class="pagenum">[40]</span> -could see by de red on her cheeks. But, my poy, -guard her like de eyepalls, for she is all I haf. -She is like de mudder ofer again, und if anyt’ings -happen mein Dora it vill prake mein -heart. Yes, I gif my little Dora to you. I vill -announce de betrothal at vonce.”</p> - -<p>Loney peeped in the door, uncertain as to his -welcome, asking if he could come in. The shoemaker -said, huskily, for this betrothal, while it -assured his daughter a happy home, a good husband, -and protection, still seemed to him to -sever the dear tie that had so bound them together—the -chain was broken, to let in another -link:</p> - -<p>“Yes; come along, Loney; ve vassen’t long -gone, but it vos long enough.”</p> - -<p>Then the long-deferred “treat” was brought -up for discussion, and Bennie hurried his pretty -little Dora—his now—and Loney, and they went -happily up the steps, leaving the father alone -in the dim shop, with a heavy load of—was it -joy or sorrow—in his heart? He scarcely knew -himself.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[41]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Vell,” sighed the shoemaker, taking up the -heavily-spiked shoes, and preparing to mend -them, “now, vouldn’t dem shoes pe awful to -stamp on anoder feller’s corns? It’s going to pe -awful lonesome, but I pe glat dot Dora vill haf -a goot husband, like de Bennie. I guess ve fix -it mit a pigger place. I’ll vistle or sing till dey -comes pack.”</p> - -<p>Saying those philosophical words, Morris began -to whistle, but the effort brought tears to -his eyes. Then he tried to sing, but the words -became a husky rattle, and, with a rueful face, -he said:</p> - -<p>“Vell, ve haf vork und dot is petter as medicine -for a sick heart.”</p> - -<p>Scarcely had he uttered these words when the -doorway was darkened by a form, and a big -man, who looked still larger in his full cowboy -costume, came clattering down the steps to the -little shop. The shoemaker looked at him in -dumb wonder. The cowboy costume was one<span class="pagenum">[42]</span> -he had never seen before, and he looked at it, -from the wide, flapping sombrero to the spurred -boots, not missing the hairy “chaps,” or leggins, -and belt which, to Morris’ excited eyes, -seemed stuck full of pistols and knives, although, -really, the only two pistols were carried -in the man’s hands. Plainly, the man was intoxicated -and at a dangerous stage. He fired a -shot into one corner and then another in rapid -succession, while he shouted:</p> - -<p>“Ee—you—Ee—you! I’m a wild and woolly -catamount. Ee—you! I’m a bald eagle and -I’m flying high. Ee—you! Hip! Hip! I’m -lookin’ for blood, and I’m thirsty. Whoop-ee, -whoop-ee!”</p> - -<p>The frightened shoemaker, if he thought anything, -imagined that this was some new kind of -Cossack sent to massacre, as in Russia, and he -fell backward over his bench, nearly fainting, -yet managed to say:</p> - -<p>“De slaughter-house, dot’s ofer in Jersey, de -odder site of de river.”</p> - -<p>The man, who would have been handsome had -it not been for the marks of dissipation on his -face, came on, saying loudly:</p> - -<p>“I’m the hungry wolf of the plains, and this -is my night to howl—ee—you! I’m the rip-snortin’ -sure-shot from Dead Man’s Gulch!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[43]</span></p> - -<p>“I gif you my vort, you got in de wrong place. -Dere’s a shootin’-gallery on de corner. Two -shoots for a cent.”</p> - -<p>“Ee—zip! Ee—zip! You’re a shoemaker, -ain’t you?”</p> - -<p>“I am if I live. Vat you vant, Mister? Dake -de place. I don’t vant it. De rent is too high, -anyvay, und I look for anoder place—you can -haf it.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want your place. I’m lookin’ for -the coyote who deserted my sister.”</p> - -<p>“Coyotes? I don’t keep ’em. Go down to -Somolus Levinsky’s. He’s got his life insured.”</p> - -<p>“My name is ‘Cactus Bill,’ and I’m all over -‘stickers,’ and I want a shoemaker to peg ’em -in.”</p> - -<p>“Dot’s a good fellow,” pleaded Morris; “go -on to de next place. I got de locomotor-attacks -me, und I can’t use de hammer.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we’ll let it go at that. This Bowery -booze is chain-lightning. I can drink a gallon -of our Western booze, but this Bowery fire is -burnin’ me up. I’m a stranger in a strange -land. I’m a poor lost yearlin’ and I haven’t got -a brand. I’m a ring-tailed broncho an’ I’m runnin’ -away. Clear the range, pardner, for it’s -my time to buck.”</p> - -<p>As he said this, the wild-looking cowboy fired<span class="pagenum">[44]</span> -another shot, which was harmless, save for a -small piece of plaster knocked from the wall. -The shoemaker began to tremble again, and -begged him not to be so free with his shooting -or the police would be down on them. Indeed, -it was strange that the officers had not already -made their appearance. So he begged the stranger -not to be so free.</p> - -<p>“I’m not free. I’m tough, I am. You’ve got -to be tough in the West. If ever you go there, -trim yourself up with a beltful of guns and be -as tough as the next one, or they’ll eat you alive. -Whoop-ee! I’m goin’ out to find a graveyard. -I’ve got to have a place to bury my dead.”</p> - -<p>Then the man turned and staggered toward -the steps, firing two shots as he went. The shoemaker -at first thought he would run and hide, -but he ducked down behind his bench.</p> - -<p>“Nein, nein,” he muttered, “but I am tired.”</p> - -<p>The shoemaker still cowered behind the protecting -bench when Dora and Loney returned, -laughing happily. Dora saw her father’s pale -face and asked:</p> - -<p>“Hello, papa. Was anyone here?”</p> - -<p>“Vas anyone here? You ought to haf seen -that crowd. You’d t’ink it vos an auction sale -and dey vant to buy out my place. Vy you ask -me such foolish questions, Dora?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[45]</span></p> - -<p>“Why, I did not know that was a foolish -question. Was it foolish?”</p> - -<p>“No, mein chilt. It vos idiotics.”</p> - -<p>“Why, what is the matter, papa?”</p> - -<p>“I got it, vot you call dot tired feelings.”</p> - -<p>“Can I do anything for you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, mein chilt. Go by de top of de steps -und see if dere is a Vild Vest parade comin’ -down de street.”</p> - -<p>“Why, papa, what is wrong? Are you out -of your head?”</p> - -<p>“Out of mine headt! Come und touch it, dat -I shall pe sure I haf von yet.”</p> - -<p>“Papa, papa!” said Dora, really alarmed. -“What is the matter? Oh, are you sick?”</p> - -<p>“I t’ink I am deat, put I don’t know.”</p> - -<p>“What <em>is</em> the matter? What is wrong?”</p> - -<p>“Nodings wrong. He vas all right.”</p> - -<p>Here the shoemaker jumped to his feet, shouting -in a wavering voice: “Ee—you! I’m de -ring-tailed broncho and it’s my time to buck. -Ee—you!”</p> - -<p>“Run, Loney,” said the distracted Dora, -“run and get the doctor. Papa has gone crazy.”</p> - -<p>“Neffer mind, Loney. I’m all right now. Dere -vos a feller here py de name of ‘Cactus,’ and he -haf stickers on, and he vanted me to peg dem -in.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[46]</span></p> - -<p>“Worse and worse! Run, Loney, for the doctor. -Run quick!”</p> - -<p>“No, no, Dora. It is all right now. I vos -nervous, dot’s all. Vere is de Bennie?”</p> - -<p>“Waiting at Lyons’ for you. He insists that -you shall come there and have supper with -him.”</p> - -<p>“All right, Dora, I vill go. I need a little air, -und I vill drink von or a couple of glasses of -beer. Keep de shop. Good-bye. I vill soon -come back. Good-bye, childrens.”</p> - -<p>Saying this, the nerve-shaken shoemaker put -on his hat, and left his apron, and went up the -steps to the street.</p> - -<p>Dora was so happy that it seemed as though -she could not contain her joy. To her simple -heart, marriage and motherhood were the sum -and substance of a woman’s earthly joy. No -longings after a “career” troubled her heart. -She had her dear father, her little Loney, and, -above all, her Bennie. Was ever a girl so blessed -before? Could human heart ask more? Her cup -was full to overflowing. Dora seized Loney and -began to dance about the dark, little shop.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Loney! what a happy world this is, after -all! This is only an old cellar, but I am just -as happy as if it were a palace of gold.”</p> - -<p>“I knew the happy days would come to the<span class="pagenum">[47]</span> -cellar,” said Loney, with a vague, far-away look -in his blue eyes, “because I have prayed and -prayed, because you and your father were so -good to me.”</p> - -<p>While these words were still on the lips of the -child, the doorway was again darkened and the -burly form of “Cactus Bill” appeared. He -shouted:</p> - -<p>“Ee—you! Where is he? I’m loaded for bear. -I want a pipeful of his whiskers.”</p> - -<p>Dora slipped her arm around Loney and drew -him into the shadow, just as John Pierson and -Dopey Mack came softly down the steps. “Cactus -Bill” was so unsteady on his feet and so -overcome by the vile liquor he had been drinking -that he neither heard nor saw the two men. -Scarcely had they reached the level of the floor -than Pierson leveled his pistol at “Bill,” who -stood with his back to the door, and fired, the -ball striking the drunken man in the back.</p> - -<p>With the instinct of self-defence, “Bill” drew -his pistol and tried to aim at his adversary, but -fell nerveless to the floor, where he lay inert.</p> - -<p>Pierson, with his pistol still in his hand, -stepped forward, saying:</p> - -<p>“It was your life or mine! You have searched -the Bowery from end to end for me to-night, to -kill me—and I drew first; that’s all.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[48]</span></p> - -<p>The prostrate giant gave no sign of life, and -after a moment Pierson said:</p> - -<p>“He is dead!”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Dopey, in an ugly whisper, “and -dese kids is witness to de deed.”</p> - -<p>Loney tried to slip out unobserved, to find -Mr. Goldberg, but Dopey, saying “Naw, you -don’t,” struck the child a heavy blow on the -head with a murderous “billy.” The child gave -a gasp and fell into Dopey’s arms. Dopey -dragged him to the inner door and out of sight.</p> - -<p>Dora stood white and speechless with terror -until John Pierson turned to her, saying:</p> - -<p>“Don’t be afraid. I won’t harm you. You -are too young and beautiful to die just yet.”</p> - -<p>Dopey returned alone and whispered to Pierson:</p> - -<p>“I didn’t mean to do it, but de crack on de -nut croaked de kid!”</p> - -<p>“I’m glad of it. His lips are sealed forever.”</p> - -<p>Dopey went to Dora and, with an evil look on -his opium-defaced visage, said hoarsely:</p> - -<p>“Now den, my pretty bird, it’s your turn. -You’ll never live to tell of dis!”</p> - -<p>“Let her alone!” said John, angrily. “I’m -not going to harm her. We’ve got to get away -from New York as quick as the devil will let -us—and I’m going to take her with me.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[49]</span></p> - -<p>With a gasp of horror and a futile effort to -call her father and Bennie, Dora fainted and -would have fallen, had not John caught her.</p> - -<p>“Come on; help me get her away. Some one -may come,” whispered Pierson to Dopey.</p> - -<p>While they stood over Dora, Loney came -creeping softly from the hallway where Dopey -had left him, supposing him to be dead; and, -unnoticed, he crept to the bench and crouched -behind it unobserved, and silently wiped the -blood that flowed from the wound in his head.</p> - -<p>Pierson started with Dora toward the cellar-steps, -but Dopey checked him, saying:</p> - -<p>“Not that way, cull. De street is full of people. -I know dis place like a book. Go out that -door”—pointing to the door leading into the -little stairway and hall. “You’ll find a gratin’ -openin’ into an alley-way. I’ll go ’round and -meet you dere wid Red Mike and his cab. Mike’s -me pal, he is. Dere’s only one way to do a t’ing, -an’ dat’s de right way. See?”</p> - -<p>“Then, hurry! hurry!”</p> - -<p>John then staggered out the way Dopey had -indicated, with the insensible Dora in his arms, -while Dopey sneaked cautiously up the cellar-steps -to the street.</p> - -<p>A few moments of silence passed in that little -shop, then Loney sobbed once with the pain<span class="pagenum">[50]</span> -in his head and the knowledge that Dora had -been carried off by that bad man, and he was -powerless to save her. Then his senses left him -and he sank back unconscious.</p> - -<p>With a glad and resonant voice the happy -shoemaker shouted down the steps as he made -his appearance then:</p> - -<p>“Dora, Dora, I have de nice present for you—from -de Bennie. Your ring of betrothal. I -tellet him I wouldn’t let you vear it now, and it -is all fixet. Now, you get merrit on your eighteenth -birthday, eh? Vot you say! Vy, vot is -dot? De man mit de ‘stickers’! Yust deat drunk! -Dot Bowery booze vos too much for him—efen -him. Vake up, Mister; vake up! You can’t sleep -here. Vat’s dot—ploot! Mein Gott! he is -hurted!”</p> - -<p>While the shoemaker was shaking and talking -to “Bill,” the latter raised on his elbow, -saying:</p> - -<p>“My friend, I’m hurt to the death. Shot in -the back by the Mexican who wronged my sister. -I played fox until he had gone. I’m going -over the range fast—fast, pardner, and the -night is coming on. I can hardly see.”</p> - -<p>“Poor man! kan I do anydings for you?”</p> - -<p>“Nothin’, pardner; only look in my side-pocket—there’s<span class="pagenum">[51]</span> -an old paper there. Can you -find it?”</p> - -<p>Morris put his hand into the pocket designated, -and drew therefrom a folded paper, saying:</p> - -<p>“Is it here? Is dis it?”</p> - -<p>“That’s yours, pardner. If it ever amounts -to anything, it proves the ownership to a claim -out West in the gold fields. Keep it. I haven’t -a relative on earth but a sister, maybe, if she -isn’t dead. But if she is living, and you can -find her, and the claim pans out, give her half, -will you?”</p> - -<p>“I vill—yust de same as if it vos mein own -sister.”</p> - -<p>“That’s bully, pard! Gimme your hand. So -long. The sun has set, and I can see my mother -up there, with a big gold nugget around her -head. So long.”</p> - -<p>These last words ended in a rattling gasp, -and a sudden straightening of the limbs, and -then a relaxation of the whole, strong body. -“Cactus Bill” was dead “with his boots on.”</p> - -<p>The dazed shoemaker stood up and looked -wonderingly about him. So many things had -happened in this one day that it is no wonder -he was dazed by it all. Suddenly the weak voice -of Loney called:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[52]</span></p> - -<p>“Dora! Dora!”</p> - -<p>“No, no; don’t call her. I don’t vant her to -see dot,” said Morris, pointing to “Bill.” Loney -staggered from behind the bench, sobbing:</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Goldberg! Dora’s stolen! She’s -gone!”</p> - -<p>“Gone! Gone! Mein Dora gone! Vere?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; two men shot <em>him</em>, and took Dora!”</p> - -<p>The bereaved father sank down to the bench, -sobbing: “Mein Gott! Mein Gott!”</p> - -<p>“What are you going to do?” asked Loney, -after a while. “Mr. Goldberg, Mr. Goldberg! -What are we going to do?”</p> - -<p>“I vill search de vorld ofer to find mein -chilt.”</p> - -<p>Then, as he tried to take his handkerchief -from his pocket, the tiny baby-shoe fell from -it. This brought a flood of tears and, as he -kissed the little shoe over and over again, he -sobbed:</p> - -<p>“Mein little Dora! Mein little Dora!”</p> - -<p>Loney crept to the heartbroken man and -passed his thin little arm around the shoemaker’s -neck while they mingled their tears.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[53]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Six long months had passed since the day -when Dora had been stolen from her home. The -father had the murdered man buried at his own -expense. No one thought of accusing him; besides, -little Loney had seen the assassination.</p> - -<p>The unfortunate Helen Pierson came back -“clothed and in her right mind,” as she had -promised, and although it made a heavy drain -upon the shoemaker’s savings—added to the expenses -of the funeral—she was given money to -take her back to the wide West, where she could -begin life over again.</p> - -<p>The body of her brother lay in his coffin in the -tiny room above, but, with a delicacy rare to -men, Morris Goldberg had wished to spare her -the sight of a dead stranger. They neither knew -that the man lying so calm and peaceful there -was her brother who had come from the West -to seek her and to avenge her; so she started -Westward and the stranger was laid at rest.</p> - -<p>Morris Goldberg had clung to Loney as the<span class="pagenum">[54]</span> -link between him and despair. The child had -loved Dora and he loved her. So there was -some one to whom the unhappy father could -pour out his heart without fear of wearying -them.</p> - -<p>Search was made everywhere for the man -who had shot the stranger, and for Dopey Mack, -but they had disappeared from their old haunts. -So, at last, the shoemaker decided to go West -himself, in the faint hope that this man, who -had doubtless come from some place in the -West, had returned there. His rather slow mind -had pieced together “Cactus Bill’s” declaration -that he had come from Wyoming in search -of the man who had abandoned his sister, and -that Helen Pierson might be that sister. And, -if she was, he owed it to her to look after the -interest in the claim, the title to which he now -held. Poor Loney could not be left behind, so -Morris Goldberg sold out his little shop, which -had prospered in his industrious hands, and all -his belongings save a few cherished treasures -which he left with his friend who owned a safe. -But he took the tiny shoe with him.</p> - -<p>What Bennie had felt at this sudden bereavement, -just when he was so happy, words could -not express. He, too, sought everywhere, and -grew old and worn in his anxiety. So, not long<span class="pagenum">[55]</span> -after the shoemaker had gone, Bennie resigned -his excellent position and took up his march toward -the wild and woolly West.</p> - -<p>At the end of six months from the day of the -murder and the stealing of Dora, there was a -little wave of excitement, which did not owe its -origin to a shooting scrape, in a hamlet in Wyoming. -This small cluster of shacks and shanties -was known as Hellandgone, and a forsaken -spot it seemed, with scarcely any vegetation beyond -the dusty sagebrush and scrubby bushes -sparsely scattered upon the hills beyond.</p> - -<p>There was the usual “hotel,” a board house, -of two stories. The lower floor was taken up by -the bar-room, which was the general sitting-room, -there being no other; the dining-room, -with a lean-to kitchen beyond.</p> - -<p>The dining-room had one long table made of -planks, with a bench of the same length on each -side. The bar-room had the smaller tables, and -several wooden chairs, besides a few kegs which -also served as seats on occasion. Lumber was -scarce, and all furniture had to be carried a -long distance in wagons, which made it not only -an expensive luxury, but one of difficult attainment.</p> - -<p>The bar was at one side of the room, with the<span class="pagenum">[56]</span> -usual complement of bottles, glasses and other -paraphernalia devoted to such purposes.</p> - -<p>The door leading to the street was a wide one -and a high one to accommodate the cowboys -from the adjacent ranches and the miners from -up the mountains beyond.</p> - -<p>Far up the trail could be seen mountains dark -and sinister, more and more rugged as they -ascended. Along, on some of the slopes in the -far distance, could be seen the roofs and tall -chimneys of quartz mills. On the whole, the -outlook was dreary and monotonous.</p> - -<p>Over the bar was a mirror and below that the -usual hint about the unwisdom of trust, and another, -in form of a placard, hung to the bar, -saying:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Please don’t shoot the barkeeper!</div> - <div class="verse indent1">He’s doing the best he can.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>There was the usual crowd of roughly-dressed -men lounging about and drinking, to kill the -time until the stage should arrive. This was an -event every day, for by it came letters, papers -and news from the outer world.</p> - -<p>Four of the men stood against the bar, singing. -Their voices were good and resonant, developed -by singing to their herds in the long<span class="pagenum">[57]</span> -night-watches, and after each verse of a song -they took a sip of their drink, and followed up -that by giving the cowboy yell of “Ee—you! -Zip! Zip!” etc., until the very bottles trembled.</p> - -<p>One of the men, whom the others called Shoshone -Pete, said, airily:</p> - -<p>“Set ’em up again, Snakes. I’ve been out on -the range and this is the first chance I’ve had in -six weeks to oil up my machinery.”</p> - -<p>“Zip! Zip! Hurry up, you spavined old cayuse! -Kick up your heels and come to life,” -suggested Dead Shot Mike, threateningly, while -he hastily swallowed what was left in the bottom -of his glass and wiped his lips on his sleeve, -ready for another drink.</p> - -<p>“Ee—you! Zip! Zip! I’m my mother’s baby -and I want my milk, I do,” whimpered Shoshone -Pete, while Snakes, the bartender, was -struggling with a refractory cork. He sneered:</p> - -<p>“Ah! gimme a minute till I get this cork out. -You’re like a pack o’ howlin’ coyotes hungry for -meat.”</p> - -<p>The cork popped out of the bottle just then -and Snakes handed it to the waiting men, who -set up another song with its shrill chorus of -“zips and ee—yous.” By the time the song was -ended another glass was called for, and Shoshone -Pete began his noisy harangue of:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[58]</span></p> - -<p>“Ee—you! Zip! Zip! I’m the warbler of the -range. I’m the wild mocking-bird of the chaparral. -I’m the silver-voiced son of a gun from -Cheyenne, Wy-o. I’m the game cock of Deadwood, -and it’s my time to crow!” then imitating -a rooster. All the others laughed, and Snakes -said, benignly:</p> - -<p>“This is one on me, boys. Come up to the -trough.” Again handing out the bottle.</p> - -<p>“Watch him, boys, watch him! Whenever he -treats, it’s ‘coffin varnish,’” said Shoshone -Pete, while the others attended strictly to business.</p> - -<p>“Is that so?” said Snakes, angrily. “Let me -tell you, this stuff is four years old and came -from Denver.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mike, “it is the strongest four-year-old -I ever saw. Here’s how.”</p> - -<p>“Four-year-old! Don’t believe him, boys,” -said Dan. “I seen him out in the gulch last -night makin’ this. Half a bar’l of rain water, -two gallons of alcohol, a plug o’ tobacco and a -section o’ barbed wire.”</p> - -<p>This raised a noisy laugh at Snake’s expense, -which he took good-naturedly. Shoshone Pete -turned and asked:</p> - -<p>“Where’s the Angel?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; where is she?” asked Dan.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[59]</span></p> - -<p>“The Angel of Hellandgone. Where is she?” -inquired Mike.</p> - -<p>“She’s sure all right, eh?”</p> - -<p>“She went down the gulch and over the range -to Silver Bill’s shack. His wife’s got a new -baby, and the Angel went down to help her out,” -said Snakes, with conviction.</p> - -<p>“She can have all mine—dust, sombrero, cayuse, -saddle, bridle, lariat, and all!” said Shoshone -Pete, earnestly. “The Angel is <span class="allsmcap">IT</span>. She -is certainly <span class="allsmcap">IT</span>, and I can lick the first son of a -gun that denies it!”</p> - -<p>“No chance for a mix-up there, Shoshone. -There is not a man from Cheyenne to the Gulch -who would not fight for the Angel,” returned -Mike.</p> - -<p>“She is <span class="allsmcap">IT</span>, I say. She sure is <span class="allsmcap">IT</span>. She is white -and gold. That is what she is. White outside -and gold within. Set ’em up to the Angel, -Snakes.”</p> - -<p>“My treat,” declared Snakes.</p> - -<p>“Naw, it’s mine,” declared Dan.</p> - -<p>“In your mind it is. It’s mine,” said Mike, -aggressively, as though he was seeking for an -opportunity to fight for the Angel’s honor.</p> - -<p>“Here, here!” cried Shoshone. “Who spoke -first. Are you a set of highway robbers trying<span class="pagenum">[60]</span> -to hold me up? Set ’em up, Snakey, and here’s -your dust. Hats off, boys.”</p> - -<p>“To the Angel,” said Mike.</p> - -<p>“God bless her!” said Shoshone.</p> - -<p>“It is a long trail to Silver Bill’s. Did she go -alone?” asked Shoshone, when the ceremony of -toasting the absent Angel had been performed.</p> - -<p>“Yep,” replied Snakes, gathering the glasses -and dipping them into some mysterious liquid -in a tub beneath the bar, and which was supposed -to be clean water.</p> - -<p>“There’s mountain lions out that way,” said -Dan, mournfully, “but she had her rifle.”</p> - -<p>“Then there’s nuttin’ to worry over. She can -outshoot any galoot in the county. Got a testament, -Snakes?”</p> - -<p>“Sure I have,” said Snakes, producing a -sealed pack of cards.</p> - -<p>“Who is going to sit in?” asked Shoshone -Pete, when the four other men instantly signified -their willingness to join in a game of poker, -and all four gathered around one of the tables, -while Shoshone shuffled the cards, saying:</p> - -<p>“Say, this table here makes me think of when -I was telegraph operator——”</p> - -<p>“I never knowed that,” said Dan.</p> - -<p>“Well, I used to click the keys at Cody’s -Crossin’ and—er—one night, in a blizzard, I<span class="pagenum">[61]</span> -tried to run one freight train through another -on the same track, killin’ about three hundred -yearlin’s. Then I sent in my resign. Let her -flicker, pardner.”</p> - -<p>Before a card was dealt, there was the sound -of feet on the floor, and all looked up to see -John Pierson and Dopey Mack before them. -Both had grown full beards and were dressed -in garments better adapted for “roughing it” -in the mountains than for social reunions. The -players turned diligently to their game, as etiquette -on the range does not allow of too much -interest in one’s neighbor’s affairs. Pierson -said to Dopey, in a low voice:</p> - -<p>“If my recollection serves me well, Dopey, I -think this is the place and about as nearly out -of the world as a place ever gets to.”</p> - -<p>“Well, dere’s one t’ing, Mister. I’m dead -glad to find anyt’ing wid a roof on it, for I’m -dat sick and sore climbing over rocks dat I feels -like I been up ag’inst Bob Fitz in de twentieth -round, and dat’s no dream. It’s here in every -bone, an’ it’s here, all right.”</p> - -<p>“Better than to be <a id="BRef_61" href="#Ref_61">hitting the pipe</a> in New -York and have the life burned out of you. We -were lucky to have gotten away as we did with -the girl, and out here we’re as safe as if we -were locked up in a tomb.”</p> - -<div id="Ref_61" class="figcenter illowp58" style="max-width: 40.625em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i103.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"><p class="center"><span class="smcap">Western Pastime - “<a href="#BRef_61">Hitting The Pipe</a>”</span></p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[62]</span></p> - -<p>“Lucky she went off her base!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that made it easy to tell that she is my -poor, demented daughter, out here by my physician’s -orders.”</p> - -<p>“An’ did you ever see anybody take such a -likin’ to anyone as de Empress has to de gal? -I never did.”</p> - -<p>“You mean Muriel? No; devil take the luck -that she should have met us that night. Curse -her interference! Had it not been for her, I’d -have killed the other one long ago, but it will be -different out here. I’ll get rid of her, all right. -She is no use to me now, since she went daffy -when she saw me kill that brute. Let me see if -I am right. If I am, I will bring Muriel and her -here.”</p> - -<p>Saying these words, Pierson went to the bar -and asked Snake if he could obtain accommodations -for his wife and demented daughter, himself -and a friend.</p> - -<p>After some conversation, to which all four -players lent a listening ear, all the keener because -they had not heard the earlier talk between -the two men, Snakes offered two rooms -on the floor above, one of them over the bar-room -and the other over the dining-room. -Snakes made the remark that the ladies might -find the place noisy, especially for the one who<span class="pagenum">[63]</span> -was demented, but John reassured him by saying -that so long as she saw no one she would -be all right.</p> - -<p>Then Pierson asked Snakes if he did not remember -him, saying that he was sure that he -had known Duffy several years ago in Cheyenne. -Duffy had almost forgotten his own name, so -long had he been called Snakes, and so was not -to blame if he did not recognize the name of -Blakely. “Yes,” continued Pierson, “it is a -sad business that brings me here. I was married -then, but my wife was in the East, and I -have this daughter, my only child. She became -insane from overstudy. The doctors thought -that the high altitude and mountain air would -restore her. The poor child needs a rest.”</p> - -<p>At this, Shoshone Pete came over to where -Pierson was standing and, with the hearty good-fellowship -of the men in that locality, said, sympathetically:</p> - -<p>“Too bad, pardner. Kin I do anything for -you? You’ve only got to say it.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing, thank you. All we need is rest and -quiet. As I was just telling Duffy, we need -nothing but quiet, as the sight of strangers always -excites my daughter.”</p> - -<p>“Well, there’ll be no shooting-matches here -that I can stop as long as you stay. Say, Snakes,<span class="pagenum">[64]</span> -you just give the boys a tip, and tell ’em that -I’ll plug the first galoot that lets his gun go off -by mistake.”</p> - -<p>Pierson well knew the loyalty to womankind -and the rough, but honest, chivalry that made -every miner and cowboy the knight errant of -every good woman in the wild country, and began -to wish that he had remained in New York, -or some other big city, where it is so easy to -hide. He could have put both Muriel and Dora -out of the way in a crowded city, and before the -police had even learned of the crime.</p> - -<p>Snakes hurried the arrangement of the two -rooms, so that they should be fit to receive the -ladies, and this consisted mostly in wiping the -accumulation of dust from the furniture, and -putting the table cover askew, as men always -seem to do. A broom was brought into requisition -and all the dust was swept under the rickety -bureau, just where a woman’s eye would see -it first, but where the men fondly believed it -hidden from view.</p> - -<p>While this rapid-fire housecleaning was progressing, -Pierson had stepped outside and -waved his handkerchief to the two women who -were stationed some distance away.</p> - -<p>Snakes turned to Shoshone Pete, saying that -that man, Blakely, claimed to have known him<span class="pagenum">[65]</span> -in Cheyenne, but, to save his life, he could not -place the man’s face, though there was something -familiar in his voice. Then it was suggested -by one of the men who had remained -seated at the table that they should continue -their game.</p> - -<p>“Whose play is it?” asked Snakes.</p> - -<p>“Whose play nothin’. It’s your ante. Don’t -try to sneak out of duty, like that,” said Dan, -with one eye on the door and one on the table. -The arrival of women was a rare occurrence in -this place, and the interest quite overshadowed -the merits of the game.</p> - -<p>John and Dopey walked along a little outside -the hotel, so as to be out of earshot, and Dopey -asked anxiously if it was all right.</p> - -<p>“Dead easy. I spun them a yarn about my -poor, crazy daughter who needed silence and -quiet and plenty of it. They’re such idiots about -women out here that they will do any and every -thing they can to make her comfortable.”</p> - -<p>“Youse’ll be a fool if you harms de young -one. She’s been de trick dat carries us thro’, -see?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but she may recover her reason at any -time and give us away. The first time that I -can get that cat Muriel off guard, I’ll put her<span class="pagenum">[66]</span> -out of the way for good. Our very lives depend -upon it!”</p> - -<p>Dopey seemed to reflect. He had grown -stronger, more active, and his youth was making -a brave fight against the enslavement of the -deadly drug, in this healthier life and away -from the poisoned air of the city, but nothing -could ever make him look other than the vicious -output of low life on the Bowery. His brow was -low, his eyes small and shifty, his teeth yellow -and irregular, and his mouth ugly and coarse. -Much of the face was now hidden in a thick -beard.</p> - -<p>It seemed a curious thing that a man like -Pierson, so neat and careful of his personal appearance, -and so much above Dopey in intelligence, -should choose a creature like Dopey for -a companion, but he looked upon the degenerate -as a tool in the commission of his crimes and, -besides, even criminals appear to have a need -of some confidential agent to whom to confide -their plans. Dopey looked upon Pierson as a -wonderful being, since he was capable of any -crime, and always seemed to look the gentleman—even -now, with the bushy beard that half -hid his face. Dopey would follow Pierson’s lead -to any length, but he was not capable of originating<span class="pagenum">[67]</span> -the plans that made Pierson seem so great -to him.</p> - -<p>Pierson stood restlessly awaiting the arrival -of Muriel and Dora, with his eyes fairly blazing -with hatred of the woman who had given up everything, -that women hold dear, for him. She -was an impediment now, and a constant menace. -He must get rid of her somehow.</p> - -<p>Muriel looked pale and tired, and her costume -showed the effects of the long, dusty ride. But -her every sense was alert to watch over and protect -Dora, whom she was leading tenderly. Dora -had lost some of her fresh young beauty, but -there was something inexpressibly touching in -her vacant stare and timid manner.</p> - -<p>As they neared the hotel, Dora began to sing -as she fondled a delicate wildflower in her hand.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Tell me that you love me,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">For that’s the sweetest story ever told”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>sang the girl, and then she reverted to the song, -after glancing curiously about her:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Tell me that you love me,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">Tell me softly, sweetly, as of old,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">Tell me that you love me,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">For that’s the sweetest story ever told.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum">[68]</span></p> -<p>As the two women approached the place -where Dopey and John stood, Dora handed the -flower to Dopey, who looked at it curiously and -then, with a sneering scowl, drew back, while -the poor girl said:</p> - -<p>“Don’t you want the flower? I found it growing -all alone out of a crevice in the rocks. See -how good is the dear God. He sends us flowers -even here.” Then she began to sing again the -same refrain, then stopped suddenly, saying, -with a strident laugh:</p> - -<p>“Here, here! There comes Bennie!” Then -she began to call for Bennie until even her poor, -dazed mind comprehended that there was no answer. -Then, turning to Muriel, she said:</p> - -<p>“What’s wrong, lady? I call and call, and no -answer comes from Bennie. He never comes.” -Then she wept.</p> - -<p>Muriel turned to John, who stood there with -hatred gleaming in his half-shut eyes, and whispered:</p> - -<p>“Look! look at your work, with the eyes of a -hungry wolf, but you shall not harm her, for I -will kill you myself first!”</p> - -<p>“I know who will come. He never did fail -when I called. Papa, papa! No, he doesn’t come, -either. Poor papa! he is all tired out and is<span class="pagenum">[69]</span> -sleeping. Hush! don’t make a noise, or you’ll -wake him up.”</p> - -<p>“Take her into the house and give her a dose -of that sleeping-potion,” said Pierson to Muriel.</p> - -<p>“I’ll take the poor child in, for she needs rest -and food, but she has had the last dose of that -slow poison she shall ever take!”</p> - -<p>“See here!” said John, brutally, “you are -going too far, my lady. I have just about tired -of your interference in this matter!”</p> - -<p>“Then,” replied Muriel, firmly, “you might -as well sit down and take a good long rest, for -I’ve only just begun. Don’t you know that I am -perfectly well aware of the reason that caused -you to take this child, whose beauty and purity -were so great that even God Almighty interfered, -to save her from you? I’m no saint, but -let me tell you here and now, that I’m going to -stand by this child as if she were my own, and -that neither you nor anyone else shall harm one -hair of her head!”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, come on,” said John, in a tone -so quiet that anyone who did not know him -might have thought he was completely cowed; -“and don’t stand there brawling like a fishwife.”</p> - -<p>Saying this, John led the way to the saloon<span class="pagenum">[70]</span> -door, the only entrance to the hotel for guests. -Dora looked up at the house and turned to Muriel, -asking:</p> - -<p>“Is that home, lady? Shall we find papa and -Bennie in there?”</p> - -<p>“You shall see papa and Bennie soon, dearie. -Come on, come on.”</p> - -<p>“All right. I’ll go, for I’m so tired and hungry, -too.”</p> - -<p>John took the arm of Dora, while Muriel -stood beside her, with Dopey in the rear, and -they entered the saloon.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[71]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>As the party entered, every one of the men -who had been playing cards stood up, and it did -not require a whispered command from Shoshone -Pete to make them remove their hats.</p> - -<p>They all stood in line with their hats in their -hands and bowing low and respectfully as -Snakes directed them to the stairway, following -them himself obsequiously, for Muriel’s commanding -presence, and Dora’s touching beauty, -completely overpowered him. As they neared -the stairs, Dora turned to the three men standing -in a line, asking:</p> - -<p>“Have you seen Bennie? He’s been gone away -so long. Have any of you seen him?”</p> - -<p>John drew Dora along unresistingly, as she -was gentle and obedient, and they went up the -rickety stairs with Duffy.</p> - -<p>“Poor little gal!” said Shoshone Pete, with a -suspicious moisture in his eyes. “She is away -off. Let’s keep quiet, boys; for even the Indians -hold such as she sacred.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[72]</span></p> - -<p>This was a tense moment for the three men. -They silently gathered up the cards, and were -about to leave the place, when there was a well-known -shout, outside, of: “Who-hoo! Hallo!”</p> - -<p>“It’s the Angel!” cried Shoshone, while the -three began to dust their boots rapidly with -their wide sombreros, and then they all awaited -her arrival.</p> - -<p>Helen Pierson it was, who now made her appearance -with a lithe and active bound down -from the rocks beyond. She wore a short corduroy -skirt, leather leggings, a wide sombrero, -and had around her waist a cartridge-belt with -a pistol, and in her hand she carried a small, but -deadly, repeating-rifle.</p> - -<p>How different she was from the poor, besotted -wretch whom Morris Goldberg had taught that -it is never too late to mend, and had sent West -to begin life over again. Now her eyes were -bright, her cheeks red, and health spoke in every -motion. All the boys stood at “attention,” smiling -broadly, and waiting for her to speak. This -she did, saying, blithely:</p> - -<p>“Well; here I am, safe and sound as a dollar. -Hello, Shoshone! Howdy, Dan! Hello, Mike! -My! that was a long trip in a short time.”</p> - -<p>“Here, here! No fair, Angel, no fair!” cried -Snakes Duffy, who had returned just then.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[73]</span></p> - -<p>“Why, what’s wrong, Snakes?” asked Helen.</p> - -<p>“You never said ‘Hello’ to me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, excuse me. How are you, Mr. Snakes -Duffy?” said Helen, with an elaborate bow, -while all the rest laughed.</p> - -<p>“I’m tip-top, Angel. How’s Silver Bill’s -folks?”</p> - -<p>“All right. Getting along fine,” replied she, -waiting a little maliciously for one of them to -ask the question she knew they were aching to -have answered.</p> - -<p>“Boys,” said Shoshone, gathering the three -all in one group, and whispering something to -them, whereat Dan shook his head, while Snakes -and Mike turned their backs, and Mike said:</p> - -<p>“It’s up to you, Shoshone.”</p> - -<p>This gentleman then put his sombrero on his -head, simply to call attention by a wide flourish -of his arm to the fact that he took it off to the -Angel, and then opened his mouth, to find that -words would not come. Helen smiled at his embarrassment -and asked, innocently:</p> - -<p>“Well, what is it, Shoshone?”</p> - -<p>With a hoarse croak, meant to be a persuasive -accent, Shoshone asked, stammering sheepishly:</p> - -<p>“Boy or gal, ma’am?”</p> - -<p>“Both!” replied Helen, gravely, while Shoshone -slapped his leg with the hat, shouting:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[74]</span></p> - -<p>“By the howlin’ coyote, boys, it’s twins! Now -ain’t that Silver Bill the luckiest cuss! A wife -like a mountain-pink, and now twins! Just -think!”</p> - -<p>Helen turned to Snakes, saying:</p> - -<p>“Snakes, may I have a bite to eat before I -go to my shack? I’m too tired to do anything -but go to sleep.”</p> - -<p>“<em>May</em> she have a bite to eat, boys? <em>May</em> she? -Listen to that!”</p> - -<p>“She may. She may have all that’s in the -house if she likes, eh, boys?” said Shoshone, -fervently.</p> - -<p>“That’s what!” said Dan, emphatically.</p> - -<p>“Sure thing!” said Mike, with a clear determination -written on every line of his rugged -face, to frighten anyone or anything that might -hinder Helen from having any and everything -she wanted.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to be waiter,” said Shoshone, -starting toward the dining-room.</p> - -<p>“You are going to play hob, you are,” said -Mike, laughingly pushing Shoshone back, while -Mike and Snakes engaged in mimic battle -for the privilege of waiting upon “the Angel,” -and finally dodged out the bar-room door to -reach the dining-room first. Helen stood for a -moment looking up to the great mountains beyond,<span class="pagenum">[75]</span> -with misty eyes, as she thought, as she did -every hour of her life:</p> - -<p>“How I thank God that He let me live to find -out it is never too late to mend.”</p> - -<p>Then she turned and went into the dining-room, -where the four men pressed her to eat until -she declared she should never be hungry -again as long as she lived.</p> - -<p>While they were in the dining-room, and Pierson -and his party were upstairs, there came toiling -up the street a curious procession, consisting -of a bony horse covered with impedimenta, -among which was seated a slender, pale-faced -boy. The horse was partly led, partly dragged, -by Morris Goldberg, himself dusty and unkempt.</p> - -<p>His search had been long and wearisome, and -it had exhausted nearly all his funds, but he -found a trace of the lost girl, and had followed -it as best he could, bringing with him the little -boy, Loney.</p> - -<p>Sometimes, when his money was completely -gone, he would stop a few days in a town and -go to work mending such shoes as he could get -to do, and in that way they had managed to exist. -Now, they had reached this spot, and here -Morris intended to remain while he sought for<span class="pagenum">[76]</span> -the mine, the deed to which was in his possession.</p> - -<p>There had been next to no vegetation on the -last lap of this lonely road, and the poor beast -was ready to drop.</p> - -<p>Morris Goldberg was out of his element in the -mines, or, indeed, anywhere but in a city. He -was too credulous and too ignorant of the way -of life, and accepted all that was told him as -truth. The cowboys and miners living so far -from refined amusements found a sort of vicarious -solace in “joshing greenhorns,” as they -called it, and this meant that every newcomer -was the butt of their rough jokes and rougher -horse-play.</p> - -<p>The way to this lonely hamlet was long, and -bordered by ranges and mines, and the men -along the route had made him believe that unless -he wished to be killed as a tenderfoot he -must dress and act like a cowboy. At their last -stopping-place the boys on a ranch joined in the -fun, and fitted the poor shoemaker out with a -pair of long-haired “chaps,” or leggings, and -these they made him put on the wrong way. This -made locomotion difficult and awkward. He was -prevailed upon to wear a wide belt with four -pistols. These the boys took good care to see -were loaded with blank cartridges.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[77]</span></p> - -<p>Then the unsuspecting man was filled with -stories of the dangerous location toward which -he was traveling, and had impressed upon him -that he must be always ready with his gun, and -always try to shoot first, if any trouble arose.</p> - -<p>Shrewd and clever as the shoemaker was in -a city, dealing with his customers, here he was -nearly as helpless as little Loney. Yet he had -managed to reach thus far. He had seen and -heard enough of the high-sounding talk of the -cowboys and miners, as they came into towns, -and promptly began imbibing the fiery liquor -handed them, not to have learned something of -it, and he decided to call himself <a id="Ref_77" href="#BRef_77">Wild Bill, the -Bull-man</a>. He would not demean himself to call -himself a cowboy. Not he. He hoped to strike -terror into the hearts of any vicious characters -with whom he might come in contact.</p> - -<p>As the man, boy and horse reached the rail -and post set aside for the convenience of riders -to tie their horses, Morris lifted the boy out -from among the pots, pans, tent, and shoemaker’s -kit, and stood the weary little fellow down -on his wavering legs. As the horse began to -nose about, looking for some sign of grass or -other food, one could see a sign attached to his -tail, the only available place left after all other -things were packed on, to notify everybody that<span class="pagenum">[78]</span> -this outfit was that of “Morris Goldberg, shoemaker.”</p> - -<p>There was no one in sight, all the men being -in the dining-room with Helen, and Pierson’s -party upstairs. Loney looked about, and read:</p> - -<p class="center">“Dead Man’s Gulch Saloon.” -</p> - -<p>“Vell, it is a goot place to come, Loney. It -is Dead Man’s Gulch, and dot’s me. I am so -nearly deat dot I can hartly hear mine own -voice.”</p> - -<p>“I’m glad we’ve come to some place. I’m -awful hungry, and I guess Jake is hungry, too.”</p> - -<p>“Ve vill get somedings soon, Loney. Und dot -horse! Vot kint of a horse are you, anyway? -You vant to eat all de time. Don’t I feed you -und now you are not carrying me, und I pull -you up de hills. You are vort nodings. If I vos -to sell you, I vould git nodings but de price of -de shoes—for olt iron. But nefer mind, Jake, -I vill not see you starf. Now, here is de last -bag of oats. Eat ’em und be happy. You’re a -pretty goot fellow, after all, und if you die I -vill make your hide into de shoes you haf maket -me vore out pulling you along. Come away, -Loney; meppe he vill fall ofer on you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he is only tired, and I guess horses need<span class="pagenum">[79]</span> -more oats and grass than we think. But why -do you wear so many pistols, Mr. Goldberg?”</p> - -<p>“Hush! Vot dit I told you about calling me -dot name? I am Vilt Bill, de Bull-man, now. -Hafen’t I told you dot ve are now in de Vest, -among de bad mens und I must be a bad mans, -too? Now, Jake, don’t you eat any more dust. -If you do, und drink vater on top of it, your -name vill be mud.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you sorry you brought me along to -look for Dora, Mr. Gold——, I mean Wild Bill, -the Bull-man? I’m a lot of trouble, ain’t I?”</p> - -<p>“Drouble nodings! You are a fool. You are -vorking for me, und you don’t know it. Do you -t’ink I vould let you stay dere alone in New -York to starf? No, sir! I vould not let Somolus -Levinsky get from me mine errant-boy. Not -since I dit loset mein Dora. I must haf some -chilt arount me, or I shall go grazy. Dere! dere! -dake de hoss out dere und find him some grass -or someding. You must vork und earn your -vages.”</p> - -<p>“All right, Mr. Wild Bill,” said Loney, smiling, -for he knew well that the shoemaker would -not starve or overwork man or beast.</p> - -<p>While the child was leading the weary horse -toward a trough which received its water from -far up the mountains, a tall Indian, in full<span class="pagenum">[80]</span> -chief’s dress—feathers and all—stood on the -edge of the path to the run. The boy, being on -the farther side of the horse, did not see the -Indian, who stood with folded arms looking at -the child, then at the poor horse and lastly at -the surprising “get-up” of the shoemaker.</p> - -<p>The latter looked at his leggings and belt with -pardonable pride, then felt of his four pistols, -one by one, and, wishing to keep up the delusion -of his own greatness, he strutted about a little, -at the same time saying:</p> - -<p>“I shall see if I can remember de vay to -shout. Ee—you! I am de Vilt Bill, de Bull-man. -I am de pest shoemaker—na—na—dot is not it. -I am de rink-tail squealer of de cook-stofe—no, -I mean range. I am de——”</p> - -<p>Here the “bad man” happened to get a view -of Red Eagle, the Indian, which at first paralyzed -him. Then he rallied and drew one of his -pistols and, with the bravery of a “well-heeled” -man, he took a step forward, saying, with growing -courage:</p> - -<p>“Dot is Hiawatha. Gif me a pack of cigarroots.”</p> - -<p>As he said this, Morris held out his hand, -whereat the Indian held out his own hand, saying, -in a guttural voice:</p> - -<p>“Ugh!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[81]</span></p> - -<p>“Vot’s dot?” asked the bad man.</p> - -<p>“Ugh!” repeated the Indian.</p> - -<p>“Is dot a man or a cow? Vot for a kind of -talk is dot?”</p> - -<p>“Ugh, ugh, ugh!” was the Indian’s reply.</p> - -<p>“Vere is your pain, mein friend?”</p> - -<p>“Got no pain—want firewater,” said the Indian, -stolidly.</p> - -<p>“Vell, vot do you t’ink of dot?” said Morris -aloud, “vanting fire und vater hot, togedder.”</p> - -<p>The noble redman then pointed to the formidable -array of pistols and said, solemnly:</p> - -<p>“Ugh! pale-face heap big chief. Give Injun -tobac.”</p> - -<p>“I vill gif you nodings. Go to your own cigar-store -und get it.”</p> - -<p>The big Indian must have had a fine sense of -humor, as he said, pointing to the bony horse -that was drinking as if he would never stop, -with a majestic wave of his hand:</p> - -<p>“Big chief got fast horse.”</p> - -<p>“Fast! I dink so. He didn’t eat nodings put -dust for two veeks—only a little oatses, und -stickses, vot dey calls crass out here.”</p> - -<p>“Chief better tie horse. He run away.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t pe afrait. You vant to puy him?”</p> - -<p>“Injun no buy horse. Injun got fast ponies. -No can beat.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[82]</span></p> - -<p>“Mein horse is fast, too—ven he is tied to de -ground.”</p> - -<p>“Injun race ponies ’gainst horse for firewater -and tobac.”</p> - -<p>“No, sir!” said Morris, grandly. “I don’t -vant to rob you. Mein horse is faster as a railroad -train—on a siding.”</p> - -<p>“Injun race ponies ’gainst horse,” replied the -Indian, stolidly.</p> - -<p>“Vot kind of a bet you make?” said Morris.</p> - -<p>“Bet firewater and tobac.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll do it. I bet on your ponies und you bet -on mein horse.”</p> - -<p>“Injun no bet so. Chief got many pistols. -Chief good shot?”</p> - -<p>“Am I a goot shoots? I should say I vos a -goot shoots. I am de pest shooter on de stofe—I -mean range. Mit dis son of a gun I”—but -“Wild Bill” did not finish that sentence, as the -pistol which he held loosely in his left hand -went off unexpectedly, which so startled him -that he jumped backward trembling.</p> - -<p>At this stage of the proceedings, the four -men with Helen returned to the bar-room and, -seeing the latter part of this affair from the -door, gave Helen a chance to throw a bird that -she had shot on her way over the range, so that -it fell at his feet, and then she drew back out of<span class="pagenum">[83]</span> -sight. The shoemaker saw the bird fall at his -feet and, picking it up, said proudly:</p> - -<p>“Am I a shootser? Vell, look out for your -selluf. Dot tells de story.” And then he began -to strut about grandly.</p> - -<p>The men looked out, tiptoeing to the door, -Shoshone saying:</p> - -<p>“Wait, boys; take a peek first. It may be -Rattlesnake Sam shootin’ things up. He’s been -on the rampage lately, and he’s ugly when he -gets started, and we don’t want a noise.”</p> - -<p>The Indian still stood in the same place, but -bowed ironically several times, saying:</p> - -<p>“Big chief, dead shot. Big chief, dead shot.”</p> - -<p>As the four men reached the porch, Shoshone -saw that they had gotten hold of another tenderfoot, -and promptly they forgot that there -was to be no noise there that day, for Shoshone -said:</p> - -<p>“Get ready, boys; now, all at once! He’s -mine, for I saw him first.”</p> - -<p>All the boys, in chorus, gave their ear-splitting -salute of “Ee—you! Zip,” etc., while the -frightened shoemaker held up his shaking left -hand, trying feebly to emit a ferocious cowboy -yell, at which Shoshone Pete broke out laughing -and said:</p> - -<p>“Why, hello, tenderfoot! What do you want<span class="pagenum">[84]</span> -to do? Sell me that?”—pointing at the shaking -pistol.</p> - -<p>The shoemaker thought, “How can I shoot -him now, when he begins to talk business?” -Then to his tormentor he said: “Who told you -dot I haf tender feet? Dot is right, for I haf got -plisters on der heels.”</p> - -<p>At this naive confession, all present began to -laugh and shout. Dan came forward, saying, -as well as his laughter would let him:</p> - -<p>“I say, pardner, what might your name be?”</p> - -<p>“It’s—I mean, I am de Vilt Bill, de Bull-man. -I am de rink-tailed squealer from Hoboken, New -Jersey. I am de rip-snorting vilt man from de -bad lands, und dis is de time to maket de racket. -Quack! quack! quack!”</p> - -<p>The poor man was trying to repeat the lesson -given him by the “boys” in the last town where -he had stayed a few days. The boys from Hellandgone -simply hugged each other, to keep from -falling, in their paroxysms of laughter, at the -preternatural gravity with which the above announcement -of his pretensions came from the -scared shoemaker’s lips. That he was scared is -not a sufficiently strong word for his mental -state.</p> - -<p>As he ceased his “cowboy” oration, Shoshone -Pete recovered breath enough to say:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[85]</span></p> - -<p>“Rope him, Dan! Rope him! He might get -away before he is initiated.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I am a Mason, all right, all right. Und -a memper of der Sangerfest Bunt, und I haf no -vish to join any more—no—I haf enough.”</p> - -<p>Dan threw the lariat so deftly that it settled -down over the poor shoemaker so that when it -was drawn taut his arms were tightly pinioned -to his body.</p> - -<p>Just then Loney came back to where this -scene was taking place, and he was frightened -so that he could scarcely speak. But he threw -himself upon his knees before the men, imploring -with his thin little hands uplifted, saying:</p> - -<p>“Don’t hurt him, please. Don’t hurt him—he -is all the friend I’ve got. And he is so good -to me.”</p> - -<p>“Hello!” said Shoshone, turning, “who are -you?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t pe afrait, Loney. Dey are yust having -deir leedle fun. Gentlemen, dot is little -Sure-de-shot, de calf-boy.”</p> - -<p>This caused another shout of wild laughter, -and they dragged Morris into the saloon, and -up to the bar; Loney and Red Eagle, the Indian, -followed—the Indian in the hope of firewater, -and the child to try and protect his benefactor.</p> - -<p>“Now,” said Shoshone, loudly, “set ’em up,<span class="pagenum">[86]</span> -Snakesy. We’re going to baptize the baby. -Make it whiskey straight, and make it strong.”</p> - -<p>“Mein frients, I don’t vant to drink viskey. -It goes to mein head und makes me grazy!”</p> - -<p>“Whiskey straight, I said, and whiskey -straight it will be! What do you want for a -chaser?”</p> - -<p>“Do me de favor und chase me,” groaned the -unhappy man.</p> - -<p>Snakes placed the glasses before the men. -Shoshone pulled his pistol and, placing it at -Morris’ temple, said gruffly:</p> - -<p>“Down she goes, or off she blows!”</p> - -<p>“All right, down she goes!” said Morris. “Do -you t’ink I’m a tam fool? I needet mein head to -talk mit.”</p> - -<p>This brought a laugh from all, but Shoshone -noticed the child standing there, pale with fright -and perhaps hunger, he thought; so he stopped -what they called “the initiation ceremonies,” to -send Loney out to the dining-room for a dinner -at his own expense, at the same time whispering -to Loney that he need not be afraid. They -would not hurt his friend. So Loney half-unwillingly -went to the table, where such a meal -as he had not had lately was set before him, and -to which he did such justice as only a hungry -boy can.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[87]</span></p> - -<p>“Set ’em up again, Snakes; the baby likes -his milk. Give Red Eagle a quart, Snakes.”</p> - -<p>Red Eagle took the quart-bottle handed him -by Snakes and went to one corner of the room -and sat down with his bottle, from which he took -ecstatic sips.</p> - -<p>Then it was Mike’s turn to treat, and he, too, -gave Morris the alternative of drinking or dying. -The poor shoemaker drank, but protested:</p> - -<p>“I’m afrait I’ll die if I don’t, und I’m afrait -I’ll die if I do—so here she goes!”</p> - -<p>Then he clapped his hands to his breast, saying:</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know I vill die. Und I’m not insured. -Vot vill Loney do?”</p> - -<p>“The drinks are on me, gentlemen,” said -Snakes, who knew how to make himself popular -by a great display of generosity.</p> - -<p>Morris tried to beg off this time, but to no -avail. In their idea of having fun with a tenderfoot -they had no mercy, and the same cold -arguments were placed at his head, while Red -Eagle looked at the man who had to be forced -to drink.</p> - -<p>The unaccustomed liquor began to overcome -the poor shoemaker, taken, as it had been, upon -a very empty stomach. He grew reckless and,<span class="pagenum">[88]</span> -drawing two of his pistols, said, somewhat unsteadily:</p> - -<p>“Dot’s not so bad, after all. Maype you fellows -take von off me, ain’t it?”</p> - -<p>Then he tried, unsteadily, to point the pistols -at the heads of the two nearest him, while all -the men laughed noisily.</p> - -<p>“Bully boy!” said Shoshone. “He is beginning -to wake up. Set ’em up again.”</p> - -<p>“Yes; set ’em up, Snakes,” said Morris, -thickly. “I don’t vant snakes now, but I’ll get -’em soon enough.”</p> - -<p>Dan and Mike had now wearied of the nonsense, -and went to the table farthest from the -bar and sat down. Shoshone looked at Morris -a moment and said:</p> - -<p>“Say, pardner, you can’t fool me. I know -you. Don’t come around here trying to play the -innocent on us. You are Alkali Ike from the -Bad Lands.”</p> - -<p>“Alcohol Ike—I don’t——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I remember when you killed those six -men, shot a Mexican and stole their horses and -cattle!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes; oh, yes—oh, vot a liar!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you did—you did—you know you did!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Morris, seeing that he was -expected to agree to everything the man said;<span class="pagenum">[89]</span> -“but don’t say it so loud. Dem oders might -pelief it.”</p> - -<p>“And you know you stole that ranchman’s -wife and took her to Cheyenne.”</p> - -<p>“I—I—stole a man’s vife. Vich von?”</p> - -<p>“Great snakes! Do you mean to say there -was another—maybe more. Oh, my—oh, my!”</p> - -<p>“Dit I take her on de cars or on a ship?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know that, but you got there, all -right, all right. Say, pardner, I’ve got a little -job on. There’s a geezer upstairs just loaded -with gold, so much that it tires him all over to -carry it. I’ve got a hunch that we could get it -all without the least trouble. What say?”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to rob him?”</p> - -<p>“That’s about the size of it!”</p> - -<p>“Vell, you can count me out.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, bah! you are poor, I can see that; and -it’s dead easy——”</p> - -<p>“It’s deader easier to be honest, and don’t -you forget it. Come, you are a decent feller, -dough you don’t treat strangers too goot. I dell -you vot I do: I teach you de telegraphers’ peezness. -It don’t make so much money as teifs do, -but it is honest.”</p> - -<p>“Telegraphy? You an operator?”</p> - -<p>“Sure. I learnt dot, but ven I got marrit I<span class="pagenum">[90]</span> -gif it up. But vonce you know it, you always -know it——”</p> - -<p>“What’s this?” said Shoshone, tapping upon -the edge of the bar with his glass. Morris immediately -answered him in the same code. Shoshone -turned and slapped Morris on the back -with such force that it brought tears to his -eyes, while Shoshone called to the others: “Hey, -boys, I lose. He is an operator—and an honest -one.”</p> - -<p>In the meantime Dan and Mike had been having -“fun” with the Indian. One of them poured -alcohol over his moccasined foot and the other -touched a match to it. The Indian jumped when -he saw the blaze, but Snakes turned a seltzer-bottle -in that direction, which quenched the -flame. The Indian gave one hair-lifting whoop -and, grasping his bottle, disappeared.</p> - -<p>In the meantime Morris was beginning to feel -the influence of the vile liquor he had been -forced to take and, all of a sudden, he began -with a rousing “Ee—you! Ee—you! Let it go -at dat. I’m de bad shoemaker from de Bowery, -New York, und I’m going to raise der tuyfel. -You vill see if I can shoot de shootses!”</p> - -<p>At this, the bewildered man took two of the -pistols and began shooting right and left, bringing<span class="pagenum">[91]</span> -down bottles, lamps, deer-heads, and mirror -in fell confusion, yelling like a wild man at the -same time.</p> - -<p>Every man in the room took to the door and -ran up the run, disappearing behind the rocks. -Morris never stopped until he had emptied the -whole of the four pistols. The cartridges, with -their load of tiny quail-shot, would have hurt -no one, unless he had happened to hit someone’s -eye, but they sufficed to splinter the glasses and -make a great noise.</p> - -<p>As the last cartridge exploded, Morris staggered -over to a chair and sank down upon it, -moaning:</p> - -<p>“Oh, Dora—Dora! Oh, mein poor head! mein -head!”</p> - -<p>Loney, hearing his voice, crept into the room, -peering through the smoke, and then he called:</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Goldberg—I mean——”</p> - -<p>“Nefer mind de Vilt Bill—I’m done mit him. -I’m yust meinselluf now, but oh, mein head!”</p> - -<p>“Can I do anything for you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; hellup me outsite, vere de tent vos, und -ve see if ve can get it up, und you take dis dollar -und get some dinner.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll get the tent up. I had a fine dinner. -Did you kill many men?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[92]</span></p> - -<p>“I hope not, Loney, but I feel awful sick, und -I must get in bet.”</p> - -<p>But it was Shoshone and Dan who set the tent -where Morris was laid to sleep the night of his -initiation.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[93]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>While the events in the preceding chapter -were taking place, upstairs in the room given to -Muriel and Dora a very different state of affairs -existed. Dora, young as she was, was -literally worn out from the unaccustomed fatigue, -lack of her regular meals, and made dull -and languid by the sleeping-potion which Pierson -had forced Muriel to give her. So the poor -girl fell heavily on the bed and slept almost at -once.</p> - -<p>Muriel was glad of this, for it kept her mind -continually on the alert trying to answer Dora’s -questions as to where Bennie and her father -were. The young girl, with Bennie’s name upon -her lips, constantly kept Muriel in a nervous -tremor. Muriel knew well that Pierson intended -to kill Dora as soon as he could do so with -safety, and she was also well aware of what he -intended to do with herself, for she understood -his vicious nature as his own mother never had.</p> - -<p>So Muriel kept always on the alert to watch<span class="pagenum">[94]</span> -for John’s murderous intentions, scarcely ate -and was afraid to sleep, lest he should come, -with his fell determination, and kill them both -while asleep.</p> - -<p>So weary was Dora that she knew nothing of -the noise in the bar-room just beneath her. Muriel -heard the shots plainly, but, hearing the -noisy bursts of laughter, she judged the matter -rightly. She knew something of the habits of -the rough but good-hearted men in this region. -She was much more afraid of John Pierson and -his villainous ally, Dopey, than of all the wildest -cowboys or miners in the State.</p> - -<p>Toward dusk Dora opened her eyes, to find -Muriel beside her, watching lest she should -awaken and try to run away. Dora clung to -Muriel as her only friend, and the more helpless -she grew, the more Muriel loved her.</p> - -<p>The conscience that had so long lain dormant -or stifled now made its presence known, and the -great mystery of an awakening soul was taking -place in Muriel. She went over each lawless -act of her life in her mind, and with each fresh -remembrance she quailed in horror at herself. -Now she was like a mother being robbed of her -child. John Pierson could not harm Dora without -first killing her—on that she was determined. -She had given Dora the potion more for<span class="pagenum">[95]</span> -the child’s own sake than at John’s orders, for -without it Dora might have become violent, -and so it would have brought matters to a climax, -and one full of danger.</p> - -<p>Muriel had tried twice to send a telegram to -Dora’s father, but had been thwarted, so now -all she could do was to watch over her.</p> - -<p>As a last resort, Muriel resolved, in case of -immediate danger, to appeal to the genuine -chivalry of the men about. True, John would -probably kill her, but what was her wrecked life -worth? At least she could save the girl!</p> - -<p>Dora’s love for Bennie was so innocent and -trustful that it touched Muriel immeasurably, -and it was still another reason why she must -save the child, for so Dora was to this world-weary -woman.</p> - -<p>As Dora awoke, she sat up, saying:</p> - -<p>“Oh, where did father and Bennie go? They -were here just now. Oh, why didn’t you stop -them? Oh, I want my father, my good father!”</p> - -<p>At that moment Dora’s father was being covered -comfortably by Shoshone and Loney not -one hundred yards from where she was wailing -for him.</p> - -<p>“There, dearie. Don’t worry. We will soon -find them. Don’t you want something to eat? -You can have a nice, warm supper now in a little<span class="pagenum">[96]</span> -while. Come, let me fix your hair and bathe -your face and hands.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think they will get here soon? I -don’t see why they stay so. They must know -that I am frightened. Father never left me -alone so long.”</p> - -<p>For the time being, Dora seemed to have forgotten -Loney.</p> - -<p>Muriel combed and dressed Dora’s thick, dark -hair, comforting and consoling her with tender -words all the while, until, bathed and refreshed, -she waited with Muriel for supper. Indeed -they needed it, as Pierson had kept them on the -road for many hours on foot, making them -climb ridges, and walk over arid stretches, until -they were exhausted.</p> - -<p>He did not wish to travel in the usual manner, -as it would have been too public, and some -one might recognize him, Muriel or Dora. Of -Dopey he had no fear, for the lives of such as -Dopey are like those of the rats—mostly underground -and out of sight.</p> - -<p>And it was part of his plan to half-starve both -Muriel and Dora, but, being in the “hotel,” he -dared not give rise to suspicion by neglecting -to order food for them.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Duffy,” said John, “my wife and -daughter are so worn out with the trip that I<span class="pagenum">[97]</span> -would beg you to send their supper to their -room, if it can be done.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly it can be done, if it takes the whole -outfit. I hope the young lady is better.”</p> - -<p>“I fear she never will be better. Her last -chance is the solitude of the mountains, and the -air.”</p> - -<p>“Did you come over in the stage?”</p> - -<p>“No, we had a rig from—from—I don’t know -what the name of the place is, but my daughter -is so tender-hearted—and so difficult to manage -sometimes—that she could not bear to see the -horses pulling so, and insisted on walking. The -driver told us the place was just over the rise, -so—we walked, and it <em>was</em> a walk!”</p> - -<p>“I should think so. You will have your supper -down here, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes; my man and I. This does seem to -be a lively place, if I could judge by some certain -sounds during the afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“That was nothing, only the boys having -some fun with a tenderfoot. You never saw such -an outfit. A Jew with a horse—well, every boy -on the range has given it a feed since it came, -and it is eating yet!”</p> - -<p>“Where is the tenderfoot, as you call him, -now?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, asleep in his little bed. Maybe he won’t<span class="pagenum">[98]</span> -have a headache in the morning! Oh, no; I guess -not! And it was his first drink, too. Will you -have one, sir, on me?”</p> - -<p>“No, thank you. I never drink, but I’ll take -a box of Henry Clays, if you have them.”</p> - -<p>“I just have! You see, I keep them for the -fellows from the mines. When they come down -flush, nothing else is good enough for them. -Then, by the time they have been here an hour -they couldn’t tell what they’re smoking, so I -have to give them cheaper ones. But this box -has never been opened.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad to get it. I expect we’ll go up in -the mountains as soon as I can locate a place -and get a shack. Then I’ll send to Cheyenne for -our traps and settle down for a while. Any doctors -about here?”</p> - -<p>“No, not within thirty miles. But there is a -woman here—no, an angel—and it’s Angel we -call her, and when there is sickness or trouble -she is right there. If you like, I’ll interjuce her -to your ladies the next time she comes in. She -was here to-day to dinner. She is as fine a -woman as ever walked the earth, the Angel is.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, but just at present I want my -daughter to be kept strictly secluded. The sight -of strangers always makes her worse. I am sure -that we shall be glad to know this lady—the<span class="pagenum">[99]</span> -Angel, as you call her—later. My wife will, I -know.”</p> - -<p>Then Pierson took out a handful of cigars, -paid for the box, and asked Snakes to keep the -box handy, as he was going to have supper and -a smoke. He signaled to Dopey and they went to -the dining-room, where Dopey astonished himself, -as well as the waiters, by the quantity of -food he consumed. He could not have eaten as -much in the city in a week.</p> - -<p>“Say, boss,” said he, in a raucous whisper, -“dey’s no limit to de feed here, is dere? An’ -see what a pile I’m layin’ away. I t’ink de air -agrees wid me here.”</p> - -<p>“It is not the air so much as the absence from -the dope-chair, so try to get that through your -head, and never touch it again.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t care, now, if I never do, but if I gits -back on de Bowery—I couldn’t say. Say, is de -ladies eatin’?”</p> - -<p>“They are, I expect. Mum’s the word. Eat -your supper and never talk when there is anyone -about.”</p> - -<p>This last was said in a tone so low that none -could hear it.</p> - -<p>There was some speculation among the men -who were regular boarders and the miners and -cowboys who generally rode in in the evening<span class="pagenum">[100]</span> -whenever they were at liberty, and the peremptory -order from Snakes to refrain from shooting, -on account of the young lady upstairs, had -the effect of a damper upon their noisy gaiety. -They were filled with sympathetic pity for the -poor young girl who was so beautiful.</p> - -<p>In the meantime Pierson, followed by Dopey, -went on up the run to smoke and be able to concoct -their plans for getting rid of Muriel and -Dora.</p> - -<p>They passed not ten feet from the tiny tent -where the bereaved father was lying unconscious -from the fumes of the abominable stuff -he had been forced to drink to amuse the men. -The poor shoemaker and the little boy lay there -together, safe in the hands of the men about -and sheltered by the great mountains beyond, -but they would never have awakened to the -glory of the morning had Pierson known who -slept under the tent.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[101]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The night passed and the morning dawned -bright and beautiful, and it seemed that all nature -was astir to welcome the light. There was -first a cold blue light far in the East, which -swiftly changed to a purplish pink, and this -again to a rosy yellow, and then the sun rose -in all its bright beauty.</p> - -<p>The tops of the somber mountains took on a -mellow tinge of golden brown, and birds began -to sing in every direction. Here and there along -the rugged mountains a thin line of smoke -ascended, showing that there were inhabitants -along the range. The distant sound of the lowing -of cattle came faintly to the ears in the -peaceful stillness of the early morning.</p> - -<p>Then some one began to chop wood out back -of the hotel, and this strange sound aroused the -sleeping shoemaker, and it awoke him to all the -miseries of what is vulgarly called “the morning -after.”</p> - -<p>One bird, with a louder, more insistent song<span class="pagenum">[102]</span> -than the others, perched on a twig near the tent, -and it seemed to poor Morris Goldberg, who had -never felt anything like the agony he was now -enduring, that its voice was louder and shriller -than a steam calliope.</p> - -<p>The suffering man crawled feebly from the -tent, leaving the child sleeping peacefully there. -Slowly, and painfully holding his hand to his -splitting head, Morris crept along to the watering-trough -and to the little stream that trickled -cool and clear from far up in the mountains.</p> - -<p>Letting the cold water run over his aching -head, and drinking a quantity of the blessed water -from the hollow of his hands, Morris sat -down on an upturned bucket and gave vent to -his feelings in these words:</p> - -<p>“I vish dot pirt vould shut up. I nefer t’ougt -a pirt in der vorld haf such a voice—so lout. I -nefer haf such a headache like dis. I vonder if -dere is any ice in Vyoming. Oh, my! oh, my! I -vonder”—here he laid his burning head against -the moist rock down which the water was trickling, -and found it cool. He continued his lament: -“Dank Gott! de rocks are colt. Ah, go -avay, birtie; you annoy me! Go to de Sout’—to -de pottom of it. I feel so sick, und de ice on de -mountains is a million miles avay.”</p> - -<p>Loney had been awakened by the birds, and<span class="pagenum">[103]</span> -now came from the tent with an empty, black -whiskey-bottle in his hands, and this he extended -toward Morris, saying:</p> - -<p>“Look, Mr. Goldberg, what I found in the -tent.”</p> - -<p>“Vat is it? Money?”</p> - -<p>“No; it is this bottle. I know we never had -one like this before.”</p> - -<p>“Dake it avay, Loney, und proke it against -de rocks. It makes me sick as I nefer vos yust -to look at it!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, I will. Can I do anything for you, -Mr. Goldberg?”</p> - -<p>“No. Yes, go und look after de Jakey. Gif -him some vater—oh, yes, some vater!”</p> - -<p>Loney, with an uneasy fear tugging at his -heart lest Mr. Goldberg should die, went after -the horse, which he found, after a long search, -in the rough stable back of the place, with his -nose against a bundle of hay which he was not -even trying to eat. He looked so round and comfortable -that Loney, little as he knew of horses, -was glad, for no one can travel in the lonely -places of earth with a horse as companion without -learning to love him.</p> - -<p>Loney led the horse to the water and let him -drink; then, with a sorrowful look at Mr. Goldberg, -whose aching brow was still pressed<span class="pagenum">[104]</span> -against the cool rock, he returned him to the -stable and tied him in front of the hay.</p> - -<p>Poor little Loney did not know that Shoshone -Pete had seen to the actual wants of the worn-out -horse, but supposed it was what was customary -at hotels. And it was Shoshone himself -who had rubbed the tired horse down, given him -a bedding of straw, which the half-starved animal -had half-eaten before morning.</p> - -<p>Shoshone it was, now, who went to the suffering -man and gave him a resounding slap on the -shoulder, saying loudly:</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, pardner—I mean Mr. Wild -Bill, the Bull-man.”</p> - -<p>“Der teuyfel!”</p> - -<p>“Why, what is the matter?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it is de vorst sickness vot efer vos. I -pe goin’ grazy! Den vot vill pecome of little -Loney? Mr. Shoshone, vot is de most tangerous -sickness of all?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know.”</p> - -<p>“Neider do I, but I got it all right, und dot -pirt is setting me mad!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ll soon fix that,” said Shoshone, drawing -his pistol, which action brought a cry from -Morris.</p> - -<p>“Don’t shoot! don’t shoot! For Gott’s sake -don’t make dot noise!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[105]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, I see; you don’t feel well this morning. -Why don’t you try some of the hair of the dog -that bit you?”</p> - -<p>With a gesture of distaste that spoke plainer -than words, Morris refused, at which Shoshone -laughed. Then Morris said innocently, but convincingly:</p> - -<p>“Mister, I gif you mein vort, dot dog didn’t -pite me—he eat me all up!”</p> - -<p>“Well, what are you standing there suffering -for? Come on into the saloon and get a snifter.”</p> - -<p>“For Gott’s sake don’t mention it! Dot vos -mein first und it shall pe mein last. I vill die -first—if I live. I vos come out here to find mein -daughter, Dora, vot vos stolen from me—her olt -fader—und I haf dot poor little Loney, und vill -you dot I pecome a drinker like dot?”</p> - -<p>“Well, come on in and get some breakfast. -You ate no dinner——”</p> - -<p>“Und I t’ink nefer again vill I eat.”</p> - -<p>As he mournfully spoke these words, the poor -man took from his pocket a stump of a pencil -and a piece of paper and began to write. Shoshone -watched him a moment and then asked -what he was doing.</p> - -<p>“I am writing my vill.”</p> - -<p>At the same time Morris kept brushing his<span class="pagenum">[106]</span> -hand before his eyes, as though tormented by -flies, and at last he said:</p> - -<p>“Nefer dit I see cockroaches dot coult fly like -dot. Dey comes right in your face!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, ah—there are no—that is just the effect -of your headache. That will pass off in a -little while. A cup of strong coffee——”</p> - -<p>“Nefer, nefer shall I eat again. I shall die -here—und my poor Dora——”</p> - -<p>Here the unhappy man broke down utterly -and wept scalding tears of such unfeigned sorrow -that Shoshone was greatly touched.</p> - -<p>“Is there anything I can do for you?” he -asked of the sorrowing man.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Will you take care of Loney, yes? He -is a poor chilt, not quite right in his head, but -good. He haf neider fader nor mudder, and I -gif you Jake, mein horse. Dot Loney, he is goot -und he vill vork for you ven he get a leetle -fatter.”</p> - -<p>“All right, pardner. That goes.”</p> - -<p>“So does de horse, but not very goot. Dot -horse, he neets more t’ings to eat, but ve been -very poor lately, und de mens at de next place -behint say dot dere vos lots of grass und t’ings -here, und dot dey puts cream on de horse’s oats -efery morning, mit hot piskits und peefsteak -und parsley at noon. I don’t t’ink so, do you?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[107]</span></p> - -<p>Shoshone was trying hard to keep a straight -face. He now began to feel ashamed of the part -he had taken in tormenting this poor man, and, -above all, one who was “one of the craft” of -operators. He determined that from now on he -would act as his friend.</p> - -<p>Just as Shoshone turned, there was a sudden -cloud of dust, and a horse came galloping up the -road, and, as it approached, they saw a young -man on its back, with his elbows and knees flying -up and down, and in another minute the -whole outfit resolved itself into Bennie—red and -dusty, but undoubtedly Bennie:</p> - -<p>“Here I am, Papa Goldberg! Here I am!” -shouted Bennie, as he tumbled off the horse and -rushed to greet his friend.</p> - -<p>“Oh, de Bennie! I peen glat to see you! Haf -you got any headache powders?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; here they are. I got your telegram -and I followed. Have you any news of Dora?”</p> - -<p>“No, Bennie; none, but somehow I keep on -dis vay und I t’ink I vill find her yet.” Then, -turning to Shoshone: “If I die, Mister, please -put on de stone, ‘Vilt Bill, he lif two hours; den -he die!’”</p> - -<p>“All right, pardner.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I must haf a glass of vater, to take de -powters. Vere can I get de glass?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[108]</span></p> - -<p>“Go to the saloon——”</p> - -<p>“Is dere no oder veres?”</p> - -<p>“You can go around the back of the house -and get one at the kitchen.”</p> - -<p>“Den dot is vere I shall go. Come, Bennie, -I vould not alone go. Oh, Mister, Mister! please -don’t do vit’ de Bennie like vot you do mit me. -He is de betrothed of mein Dora vot vas stolen -und I vish him to lif to hunt for her. Please gif -me your vord.”</p> - -<p>“I promise you,” said Shoshone, waiting for -an introduction, in due form, to Bennie.</p> - -<p>He liked the frank young face of the “betrothed” -of the lost Dora. But the shoemaker -had not learned the etiquette of the range yet, -and, with several groans, he took Bennie’s arm -and they went around to the kitchen door for the -glass of water.</p> - -<p>Shoshone had had his breakfast and so sat -down upon an upturned bucket and lighted his -companionable old pipe, and ruminated as he -smoked. As he sat there, Loney came back, supposing -he would find Mr. Goldberg, but as he -was not at the watering-place the boy went to -the tent and looked in, and then turned, frightened, -as he saw it was empty.</p> - -<p>“Hallo, youngster!” said Shoshone kindly.</p> - -<p>“How do you do, Mister?” said Loney. “Did<span class="pagenum">[109]</span> -you see Mr. Goldberg—I mean Mr. Wild Bill? -Which way did he go?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he’ll be back in a minute. He’s all right. -Say, kid, who is your friend, anyway, and what -brought him here. Come, now, tell me the -truth.”</p> - -<p>“I always tell the truth, sir. His name is Mr. -Morris Goldberg, and he is a shoemaker from -New York. A man came there—Mr. ‘Cactus -Bill’—and another man shot him in the back. I -saw him, and the bad man took Dora away. The -bad man had another bad man along and that -man hit me here—see—and they carried Dora -away; and Bennie—that’s Dora’s steady company—don’t -know where we are.”</p> - -<p>“‘Cactus Bill,’ you say? What became of -him?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Goldberg had a funeral for him, ’cause -he had no friends. ‘Cactus Bill’ gave Mr. Goldberg -a paper that he said was about a gold mine -out here and it was for him, and when all of -Mr. Goldberg’s money was spent, looking for -Dora, we came here to find the mine so, maybe, -we could get some more money. Say, what ails -Mr. Goldberg this morning?”</p> - -<p>“What shall never ail you, little man, if I can -help it,” said Shoshone contritely. “Ahem! -Have you had your breakfast yet?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[110]</span></p> - -<p>“No, sir; not yet.”</p> - -<p>“Well, come along and we’ll have our breakfast -together, and you shall tell me all about -this Dora, and all, while we eat.”</p> - -<p>“I thought I saw you at the table when I -took Jake back. Say, he looks fine this morning. -You ought to see him.”</p> - -<p>Shoshone slapped his leg with his hat in great -enjoyment of something, but all he said was:</p> - -<p>“Folks have to eat a lot out here.”</p> - -<p>“I believe you,” said Loney, “for I’ve been -hungry ever since we hit the trail. And so is -Mr. Goldberg, only he pretends he isn’t. Business -isn’t very good in his line out here,” added -the child reflectively.</p> - -<p>Then they went, hand in hand, to the dining-room, -Shoshone feeling a distinct thrill of -pleasure at the confiding clasp of those little -fingers. Loney felt a great confidence in this -big man who had such kind eyes. Neither of -them would have felt so happy had they seen -the two evil faces peering at them from between -two great rocks half-covered by creeping -vines.</p> - -<p>As Shoshone and the child disappeared into -the house, the two men came down to the ground, -and John, with a face white with anger, hissed:</p> - -<p>“You liar! You see the boy is not dead! That<span class="pagenum">[111]</span> -Jew is here, seeking his daughter, and the fool -she was to marry! All in the same house with -us! A fine fix you have got us in!”</p> - -<p>“I t’ought I’d croaked him! He fell like a -lump o’ lead, and when I dragged him he never -moved. What’s to be done? Say it, and I’ll -do it.”</p> - -<p>“Our lives are not worth a wisp of straw! -If these rough Westerners had but an inkling -of this, we’d adorn that lone tree over there in -a short time. They have such absurd notions -about women here.”</p> - -<p>“Say, don’t talk like dat. It gives me a sore -t’roat. Say, what’s the matter of turning the -gal loose. She’s daffy, anyhow, and if dey find -her it’ll be all right, and, if dey don’t, de mountain -lions will find her for sure.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, come on. I must figure it out some way. -No one must see us here. Our very lives depend -upon it. I have it. We can get out the same -way <em>we</em> did—out the back window, upstairs and -on to the rocks. It is our only chance. Let us -get safely away from here, and out on the range, -then let him follow. Or, rather, we will follow, -to ‘Cactus Bill’s’ claim. I knew he had one, but, -drunk or sober, he never gave his secret away.”</p> - -<p>“We’re in a hole, cull,” said Dopey gloomily, -while John said grimly:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[112]</span></p> - -<p>“You are right. So long as Dora and that -boy, Loney, live. Once out of this, and their -lives shall never stand to threaten me with the -electric chair. Come on; we must not be seen.”</p> - -<p>They dodged back again behind the rocks and -crept along up the run, out of sight.</p> - -<p>Shoshone left the boy for a few moments -while he came into the bar-room, intending to -head off any possible trouble for Bennie, in -case any threatened, and he said:</p> - -<p>“Hello, Snakesy! you trying to play the millionaire. -Where’s the rest of the boys?”</p> - -<p>“Gone down to the spring-house to lift a -spring-rafter. Have something?”</p> - -<p>“Not now. Where’s Wild Bill, the Bull-man?”</p> - -<p>“Setting on a rock out there, pouring water -over his head with a tin-cup and taking powders, -I think. There’s a young chap with him, -a stranger——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and he is to be let alone. You hear me! -let alone, that young chap. Say, I’m going to -tell you something, and that is——”</p> - -<p>And here Shoshone told Snakes all he had -learned about Morris Goldberg, his quest, and -the fact that he was caring for this homeless, -orphaned boy, and how he had buried “Cactus -Bill,” whom they had all known well. They all<span class="pagenum">[113]</span> -knew that Bill had a claim somewhere in the -mountains, but no one knew where, and, in spite -of Bill’s reputation for a quick and sure shot, -he was generally liked. It was much to these -men to know that the poor, inoffensive man outside -had given him a decent burial, and, with -quick remorse for their unfeeling joke of the -previous day, they planned to wipe out the memory -of it by kindness. So Bennie was to be -spared, and the “house” was to supply Goldberg, -Loney and the horse with all they needed -until they moved on. They never do anything -by halves out West.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[114]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>There was the sound of a familiar “whoo-hoo” -outside, and Helen Pierson, whom the -dwellers in this part of the country knew as -the Angel, came bounding into the room.</p> - -<p>“Hello, boys! Whoo-hoo!”</p> - -<p>“It’s the Angel!” said Shoshone, springing -forward to meet her.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, Shoshone,” said she, cordially.</p> - -<p>“Morning, Angel. What you doin’ down so -early?”</p> - -<p>“On my way to Silver Bill’s. I told them I’d -come back to-day. He’s out of tobacco, too, and -I want some to take him.”</p> - -<p>“Won’t it—won’t it be bad for the kids?” -asked Shoshone, with an anxious look.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no; he can smoke out-of-doors. As for -the boy, he’ll smoke some day himself, and as -to the girl, she’ll have to get used to it some -day, anyhow.”</p> - -<p>“With our compliments and best wishes,<span class="pagenum">[115]</span> -Angel. We’ve got a case of preserves here from -the East. If it was not asking too much of you, -now would you give Mrs. Silver Bill a dozen -jars?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll carry one over. That’s all I can manage -to-day.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll send a man over with the rest in the -morning, and some sardines, some canned salmon -and Boston beans—just the things for an -invalid, aren’t they?”</p> - -<p>“Well, they will be next week. She will be -on toast and gruel all this one.”</p> - -<p>“Oh—ah—yes, of course. Well, I am proud -that she—ah—well—give her my best respects. -I’ll get the jelly.”</p> - -<p>“Mine, too,” said Shoshone. Then, as he saw -that they were alone, Shoshone took a step or -two nearer her, saying:</p> - -<p>“You are the best woman God ever made, -Angel. That’s what you are!”</p> - -<p>“What makes you say that, Shoshone?”</p> - -<p>“You won’t get mad if I tell you?”</p> - -<p>“Why, no. What is it?”</p> - -<p>“I know I’m kinder low-down and rough, -Angel, but I hain’t never stole nobody’s hosses -nor branded cattle that wan’t mine, and, as for -drinking, I’m willing to stop that at once. I<span class="pagenum">[116]</span> -never cared for it, anyway, but what else is -there to do, out here? Will you, Angel?”</p> - -<p>“Will I what, Shoshone?”</p> - -<p>“Now you won’t get mad at me?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Shoshone, speak out! What do you want -me to do?”</p> - -<p>“My heart is all empty a-longin’ for you, and -I want you to crawl in forevermore. I want -you to be my wife.”</p> - -<p>“Dear God! what is he saying? Oh, I can’t, -Shoshone, I can’t!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you can; if you only will.”</p> - -<p>“But I can’t, Shoshone, my good friend, and -I will tell you why. I was married once, and -my husband deserted me for another woman, -and stole my child, my little boy. So I am not -free, you see.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I see,” said Shoshone, swallowing -hard. “Don’t say nothin’ more, Angel. I’m -sorry I said a word. Try and forget it, will -you, Angel? But if ever you need someone to -fight or die for you, jes’ call on Shoshone, and -I’ll do it, so help me—I will!”</p> - -<p>Keeping his back to her, so that she could -not see the bitter disappointment in his face, -Shoshone started away, when Helen called him.</p> - -<p>“Are you going away, Shoshone?”</p> - -<p>“Yest, jes’ for a little while; jes’ out there<span class="pagenum">[117]</span> -in the rocks and lonesomeness. I wouldn’t want -a woman to see me cry—and I’m d——d near -it!” he added under his breath as he hastily -escaped, while she held out her hands, saying -sadly:</p> - -<p>“You may never know it, Shoshone, but if I -were free I would be your wife—faithful and -loving.”</p> - -<p>Then, hearing footsteps, Helen started out to -meet Snakes who was returning with a jar of -startlingly large proportions.</p> - -<p>It was Goldberg and Bennie whose steps -Helen had heard, and they came into the saloon -from the dining-room, where Bennie had persuaded -Mr. Goldberg to drink a cup of coffee. -His own appetite needed no urging. The elder -man wanted some tobacco, and, as they came in, -he said:</p> - -<p>“Und, take my atvice, Bennie, nefer touch it. -Let it alone, strictly. It is no goot. Viskey is -de bummest stuff, A1, double Xs.”</p> - -<p>“No fear, Mr. Goldberg. I never use it. But, -tell me——”</p> - -<p>And then the same old question of the disappearance -of Dora came uppermost again.</p> - -<p>“De only news I effer hat vos dot dey tooket -her to Cheyenne, und den I vatch und look -und hunt, und von day I heard dot a party of<span class="pagenum">[118]</span> -four dot looket like dem haf come dis vay. So -I come, too. Ah, Bennie! vot ve haf sufferet—Loney -und I! Ah, Gott! und if I shall lif to -pe twice as olt as Methusela I shall nefer forget -dis place vot dey call Hellandgone. Poor -Dora! if dey haf pring her here ve nefer vill -find her!”</p> - -<p>And Dora was not ten feet away from her -father and lover, lying in a stupor from the potion -which Muriel had found it necessary to give -her to calm her nerves, for some subtle instinct -seemed to warn the poor girl that her loved ones -were near.</p> - -<p>While Morris and Bennie were waiting for -Snakesy Duffy to return, Helen came back for -the tobacco she had wished to take with her. -She started, on seeing the shoemaker, whose -strong features were not of a mould to be easily -forgotten. After one sharp look she advanced -to him, saying:</p> - -<p>“It is! It is my preserver! Praise Heaven! -I see you again!”</p> - -<p>“You are mistakenet, matam. I gannot efen -preserve meinselluf. I am de wrong man. I -don’t know you.”</p> - -<p>“Why, you are Morris Goldberg, of New -York, are you not?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[119]</span></p> - -<p>“I am if I am lifing, but how you know me I -cannot see.”</p> - -<p>“I can tell you. Because you took a poor, -forsaken, heart-broken wreck and taught her -that it was never too late to mend. You helped -me to come out here and reform, and Heaven -will bless you for it. I haven’t touched a drop -since that day.”</p> - -<p>“Dot’s right. Don’t efer touch it again, and -I von’t, eider. Vell, vell! vot for a change. I -vouldn’t effer haf known you.”</p> - -<p>“I am out here, alone, with the mountains, -the sky, the birds and flowers, and the wild -creatures. I live close—oh, very close—to Nature, -in a little shack. I never come down, except -when there is sickness or accident—some -one that needs care and devotion. Those are all -the riches I have, but I find them enough. You -see me well and strong, quite a different being -from the miserable creature you saved. My -brain is clear, my health perfect, and I owe it -all to you. But what are you doing here?”</p> - -<p>“Mein chilt, my daughter, Dora, vos stolen! -Und I am out here looking for her. I t’ink she -cannot be much farder avay. I haf a feelings -in mein heart dot she vill pe fount, but it is a -long time.”</p> - -<p>Just then Shoshone came into the room.<span class="pagenum">[120]</span> -There was a strange gleam in his eyes, and a -new manner quite unknown to Helen. He walked -quietly, but there was a suppressed excitement -in his walk and look, but he kept quiet. Helen -was saying:</p> - -<p>“Your daughter stolen! How I wish to -Heaven that I could help you! Have you any -idea who took her away?”</p> - -<p>“From what de Loney say, it vos Dopey Mack -und de tall smooth-faced man vot vos in mein -shop de first day you comet.”</p> - -<p>“What did your daughter look like, pardner?” -asked Shoshone quietly.</p> - -<p>“Like von of de angels dot de goot Gott lofes -de pest. She is small, und dark und peautiful, -mit big black eyes und such a muchness of dark -hair—yah, she is peautiful, ain’t she, Bennie? -Und she sing—yust like de pirts on de trees, -don’t it, Bennie?”</p> - -<p>“By the living Lord, I’m right!” said Shoshone -earnestly, “for yesterday she asked us, -‘Has any of you seen Bennie? He is gone away -so long.’ That’s what she said.”</p> - -<p>“Vot do you mean, Mister?” asked Morris -pitifully, clasping his hands.</p> - -<p>“There were some strangers came here yesterday—two -men, two women. The big one was -said to be mother of the little young one, but<span class="pagenum">[121]</span> -they didn’t look alike and, by the jumping jeeswax! -they’re in the house right now. The small -one looks like what you say, and they say she’s -crazy. She sings something about ‘Tell me that -you love me,’ or something like that.”</p> - -<p>“It’s Dora! It is Dora!” said Bennie, the -tears gushing from his eyes. “It is her song that -she always sings.”</p> - -<p>“Are you sure, Mister? For if I get disappointed -now, it vill kill me,” said the father, imploringly.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I tell you, they are here now. Right -upstairs there. They ’roused my suspicions -from the first. The women keep in the room all -the time. I know I’m right.”</p> - -<p>“In dere, are dey? Vell, ve vill haf dem out!” -said Morris, with grim determination, starting -for the staircase.</p> - -<p>“Be careful, pardner, of that kind of cattle. -They’ll shoot you on sight!”</p> - -<p>“Den let dem shoot! I can die to safe mein -chilt!”</p> - -<p>The father started toward the stairs, but Shoshone -took him grimly but gently, saying:</p> - -<p>“Wait a minute, pardner. When you want to -trap a fox, you must stop up all the holes. Angel, -guard this door; you, young man, take this -pistol. Go out through the back and watch there.<span class="pagenum">[122]</span> -I’ll go behind the house. There is a window -there that opens out upon the rocks. You, her -father, go on upstairs and open the front door. -If you can’t open it, break it in! Meantime I’ll -have them covered from the window. Now go, -and be careful!”</p> - -<p>At the word of command, Bennie and the Angel -took their positions, while Morris went up -the stairs, his heart beating to suffocation.</p> - -<p>When he reached the landing he saw that the -door to the back room was open, but that of the -front was closed. A hasty glance showed that -the back room was empty. He knocked at the -door, crying:</p> - -<p>“Dora! Dora! it is de fader! Dora! Dora! I -am coming!”</p> - -<p>There was no reply, and those downstairs -heard a mighty crash, as though the door had -been burst open by one blow! Then an anguished -cry:</p> - -<p>“Dora! she is gone! De room is empty! Mein -Gott! dey haf gone!”</p> - -<p>When the others reached the room, the bereft -father was kneeling, sobbing by the little table -where lay a bit of blue ribbon.</p> - -<p>“Dora! Dora!” he sobbed.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[123]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>As the reader knows, John Pierson and -Dopey had hidden from the hotel, among the -rocks, and sneaked around until they reached -the point from which anyone could enter or -leave the hotel by the window which was built -for that express purpose. It served as a convenient -fire-escape, as when one of the wooden -buildings takes fire in that dry season, no one -could save himself by the stairway. And, perhaps -on account of possible fights between rival -cowboys, it was a handy means of exit.</p> - -<p>Pierson had dashed into Muriel’s room and -said:</p> - -<p>“Quick! gather your traps and come! We are -tracked!”</p> - -<p>Giving her no time to think, he seized the -food that was spread on the table and thrust it -into his pockets. Then he lifted Dora in his -powerful arms and sprang out to the open window, -and from there stepped easily to the rock, -turning only to see if Dopey was following.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[124]</span></p> - -<p>Muriel had taken her hat and wrap and that -of Dora in her arms, and followed Pierson -quickly, as she did not believe him, and thought -this but a subterfuge to get Dora out into the -wild gorges of the forbidding black mountains.</p> - -<p>Dopey had the gripsack, and they easily made -their escape.</p> - -<p>All day they traveled up and down slopes, -hills and rugged mountains until even John was -tired and willing to sit down. He divided the -food evenly between them, and they were glad -of even that scanty fare.</p> - -<p>Dopey was manifestly dissatisfied. He muttered -to himself that it wasn’t right to take a -fellow away from his dope, which was meat and -drink both, and bring him here where the mountain -air made him hungry all the time, and then -choke off his regular meals.</p> - -<p>Just as it was growing dark, they came upon -an abandoned shack and went in boldly. John, -who had lived several years in these places, -knew that even if the owner should come he -would bid them welcome to all there was there, -and soon he had built a fire on the open hearth, -and looked about to see what there was to eat.</p> - -<p>There was a bunk in one end of the shack, -with plenty of clean leaves, and in a box hung -to a rafter in the middle of the cabin he found<span class="pagenum">[125]</span> -a can of coffee, another of sugar, a bag of prepared -flour and a side of bacon. Their immediate -necessity was thus provided for.</p> - -<p>Dora scarcely knew that they had changed -their location and continued singing as before, -but at last the song jarred upon the nerves of -her captor, and he said:</p> - -<p>“Stop that! Stop that singing! I won’t have -it. You’ll have the whole outfit down upon us -like a hungry pack. Stop, I say, or I’ll gag -you!”</p> - -<p>“Let her alone! Let her alone, I say!” said -Muriel, springing forward between them. “Poor -thing! she does not know what she is doing. -She’ll go to sleep soon.”</p> - -<p>“Was it wrong to sing to Bennie? He loves -that song. I used to sing it to him before he -died. Did you know Bennie is dead? He is, because -he would come when I call if he was not -dead. Let me show you: ‘Bennie! Bennie!’ You -see, he does not answer, and I’ve called and -called papa too, but he doesn’t come, either. Do -you think he is dead, too? It would be too bad!”</p> - -<p>“And you—you human vulture! You would -harm this poor, helpless girl!” said Muriel to -John.</p> - -<p>Dora heard this conversation clearly, but her -benumbed faculties could not seem to understand<span class="pagenum">[126]</span> -the import of it, for she turned and, laying -her dark head on Muriel’s bosom, said:</p> - -<p>“Let me tell you a secret, lady. I saw two -men, and they came down the steps to my -father’s shop, and they killed a man! They shot -him, and I saw him die!”</p> - -<p>“Now are you satisfied, you interfering cat?” -hissed John, with angry vehemence. “I told you -she had flashes of returning reason. I have -watched her closely and know that we have everything -to fear, and I hope you are convinced -now that it is unsafe to keep her longer. Every -minute she is liable to remember me as the man. -Here you stand protecting her as though she -were your own, and we all in danger of our -lives! There is but one thing to be said and that -is, her life or ours! We are in danger every -minute we keep her! She must be silenced forever! -And now!”</p> - -<p>“She shall die in God’s own good time, John -Pierson, for so long as I live you shall never -lay a finger on her to do her harm! Is it not -enough that you have dragged her away from -those she held dear, and have thereby destroyed -her reason? Listen well to my words, for I will -see that she is protected against any further -danger. The poor girl!”</p> - -<p>“What is your objection? Are you jealous?<span class="pagenum">[127]</span> -If that is the case, I can tell you that you have -no cause now for all I seek now is to get rid of -her. I don’t care how, only so she never crosses -my path again. So what is your object in protecting -her, if I may be so bold?”</p> - -<p>“I will tell you. My life has been all that is -bad and wicked, and when it comes to an end I -want this one good deed to be marked to my -credit there where she will go. Can you understand -that?”</p> - -<p>“Say, cull, she ort to jine the Salvation -Army,” said Dopey, in a husky whisper.</p> - -<p>“I wish to Heaven I had before I ever met -you two, for since that time it has been nothing -but drink and rob and steal, and now it is murder! -And, God help me! I am accessory after -the fact, a branded criminal with an awful -charge staring me in the face! Oh, if I could -only live my life over again, to be pure and -good—like this poor child.”</p> - -<p>“Say, Muriel, I have just one piece of advice -to give you, and that is to let up on this racket -or it’ll be a sort of deathbed repentance, and -you’d better be warned! And as to the Salvation -Army business, we can have that right -here.” And here the wretch clasped his hands -as in prayer and said, in a sing-song voice;<span class="pagenum">[128]</span> -“Brother Dopey, will you lead us in prayer? -Halleluia!”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t know where to begin, Brudder -Pierson,” said Dopey, grinning with delight as -he saw Muriel wince at the coarse vulgarity.</p> - -<p>“Scoff and rail, you two, but the day is not -far distant when you both will look death in the -face! Then your ribald lips will stiffen in fear, -your eyes start out in horror, and you will cry -aloud in vain for pardon to the God you despised -in life! I seem to see you now, both strung -up by the neck to the dead branch of a tree that -has borne such carrion before and both go -swinging around in the wind! That will be your -end, and it will come soon, I feel it and know -it. John Pierson, if there is one single spark of -manhood left in you, spare this poor girl, and let -me take her back to the hotel and leave her -there. I will go alone with her, and you and -Dopey can go where you like. No one shall pursue -or harm you.”</p> - -<p>“A very pretty fairy-story. It does you -credit. But, in the language of the Philistines -about here, not much! She has cost me too -much to give her up so easily. So save your -breath to cool your coffee.”</p> - -<p>“Say, cull, what will de gal do when she has -to eat bacon?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[129]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, she’ll eat it all right—if she must—and -she doesn’t know what she is eating, anyhow. -Don’t bother me with trifles.”</p> - -<p>“Please, lady, please,” began Dora, and Muriel -asked her what she wanted.</p> - -<p>“Can’t I go to bed? I am so tired. So very -tired. I never used to be tired at home—I -cooked and kept it all so nice and clean.”</p> - -<p>“There! You see what I told you,” said John -to Muriel, “she is beginning to remember!”</p> - -<p>“No wonder, poor child! that you are tired -after this last week of travel and hardships. -Yes, dear, we will rest awhile. Here is a nice, -soft bed. Lie down and I will cover you. John, -you and Dopey can sleep outside, as you have -been doing all last week. There is not room -enough in here. Come, dear, lie down.”</p> - -<p>With a bad grace, John and Dopey left the -shack and laid themselves down beneath the -stars to sleep, but both against the door, so -neither of the prisoners could escape.</p> - -<p>John had sent the Parthian shot after Muriel -as he called through the door to advise her to -“go to the devil, for all he cared.”</p> - -<p>“When I leave you, John Pierson, I shall be -going away from him as fast as I can. Understand -that.”</p> - -<p>“Say, boss, there’ll be something doing and<span class="pagenum">[130]</span> -dat pretty quick. Dat woman’s on her ear, and -when wimmen gets on deir ears dey’s allus -something doing. You’d better be on de lookout -for her. She looks like dem she-tigers I -seen in de circus once. De he-ones took t’ings -easy-like, but de she-ones was allus on de lookout -for a chance. An’ she is looking for her -chance.”</p> - -<p>“I know her like a book, Dopey, and she will -get no mercy from me if she tries any monkey -business. Yes, you are right. I don’t know -why I have been such a tender-hearted idiot. -I’ve had a couple of chances to kill them both, -and wasted them. Self-defence is the first law -of nature and our only safe way is to finish -them both now, and be done with it!”</p> - -<p>“Den youse is smokin’ the proper kind of -dope, and de only kind dat will win out for us -and keep us out of the fireworks settee. It is -de only t’ing to do, and de sooner de quicker.”</p> - -<p>John smoked in silence for awhile, stretched -out full length on the ground, while Dopey lay -wishing for his almost forgotten luxury. Finally -John whispered to Dopey:</p> - -<p>“I have it. I will let them think we have gone -on up the mountain to reconnoitre and then Muriel -may try to escape. If they come out of the -door I will fire, and that way no one will ever<span class="pagenum">[131]</span> -know who did it, even should some spy see them -fall. And if they don’t come out we will wait -till they are asleep and set fire to the shack. It -will burn like tinder. In that way we shall be -free. What do you think?”</p> - -<p>“Won’t de blaze be seen?” asked Dopey.</p> - -<p>“I don’t care if it is. It is so far away that -no one could get here in time to put it out and -if they do find them it will be too late to do -them any good. Well, I’ll tell Muriel.”</p> - -<p>John knocked at the flimsy door and as Muriel -asked what was wanted John said that they -were going up the ravine, to reconnoitre their -route for the next day, and that she should keep -the door shut, as they might be gone until near -daylight. Muriel answered that she would do -so. Then the two men drew away from the -shack, but kept in view of the door with drawn -pistols, but Muriel had grown so suspicious of -John that she never for one moment thought of -taking her helpless charge from the shelter of -the shack, poor as it was. So she sat down by -the bunk and held the little hand in hers until -Dora, after some more words of her home and -Bennie, fell asleep.</p> - -<p>How long Muriel sat there she had no means -of telling, but, as she scented treachery, she -never felt more fully awake. Hours passed, and<span class="pagenum">[132]</span> -she still watched. The men outside began to -think she had fallen asleep. Suddenly the watchers -listened and, after a moment of suspense, -they became sure they heard voices, and coming -in their direction! This put a new phase on -the matter. It was doubtless a searching-party -and they had been tracked to this place. There -was now but one thing to do, and that was to -get the two women out at once and start again -on their wandering. The voices approached and -then receded, and finally died away in the distance.</p> - -<p>It would be too dangerous now to set fire to -the shack, and equally so to fire off a pistol, so -for the time Muriel and Dora were left in peace. -Muriel slept sitting by the side of the bunk with -her weary head against the rough wall, after she -had seen day was breaking.</p> - -<p>In the morning she felt refreshed, and it was -she who cooked the meagre allowance of bacon -and bread, and made the coffee.</p> - -<p>Four days they remained there, keeping as -still as humans can, with John or Dopey all the -time on the lookout. The fifth day John saw a -thin spiral of smoke not more than a mile from -where they were, and as he watched it he noticed -that someone, an Indian probably, was making -signals with it. It would rise in straight lines<span class="pagenum">[133]</span> -for a time, then suddenly cease, only to rise -again in increased volume. This he knew was -a signal among the Indians, but he did not know -their code, although he knew enough to be sure -that it was time to leave there. He determined -to go South with his party, and at the first opportunity -he would rid himself of Muriel first -and then Dora, whom he had begun to hate on -account of the trouble she made him and the -fact that she had seen the murder and was now -beginning to remember.</p> - -<p>So he roughly told Muriel to prepare to start.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[134]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The very day that had witnessed the departure -of John and Muriel with their helpless burden -and Dopey, who was grumbling constantly -at the unwonted hardships he was undergoing, -a new party came to the shack. The ashes were -scarcely cold on the rude hearth when Bennie -and Loney came climbing painfully to the door. -Loney was nearly dead from the fatigue and -half-sobbed, as he said:</p> - -<p>“Oh, Bennie! let us rest a little. That was -an awful climb coming that way! It would have -been easier to come right over the biggest mountain -all at once. Can you see the rest?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Bennie, cheerfully, “how could I -see them when they must be back of the bend in -the trail? They are coming, all right.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think they could get lost on the -way?” asked the child, fearfully.</p> - -<p>“No; now don’t you worry over them. That -lady, the Angel, as they call her here, knows -every inch of the ground in this place. She told -us how to come, and if she is behind it is because<span class="pagenum">[135]</span> -she is helping Mr. Goldberg with his tent -and things.”</p> - -<p>Bennie here lifted his own burden again, to -see if he could not have carried a few pounds’ -weight, to relieve the older man.</p> - -<p>“It is too bad we had to sell Jake to Shoshone. -He was such a help,” sighed the boy, -regretfully.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it was too bad, as you say, but we could -not feed him, and a horse dies if he is not fed -regularly.”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t she a nice lady to come with us, Bennie?”</p> - -<p>“She is that,” said Bennie, with convincing -emphasis. “She told Mr. Goldberg that she -knew every foot of the way and all the mountains, -like you know the streets in the city. She -can show him just where his claim is located, -because he showed her the paper that the dead -man had given him in New York. It is like -magic to me. However anyone ever knows how -to cross the road in this place, I don’t see. Ah, -if we could only get a trace of Dora!”</p> - -<p>Here Bennie again grew so melancholy that -Loney crept to his side and slipped his bony little -hand into that of the man, who closed his -own over it, and somehow felt comforted for the -unspoken sympathy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[136]</span></p> - -<p>“But, Bennie, if we have to stop to dig for -gold, how can we be looking for Dora, too?”</p> - -<p>“You don’t seem to understand, Loney. We -have no more money, any of us. We cannot continue -our search without money. Mr. Goldberg -hopes that he will find gold in the claim and in -that way have money enough to search for Dora. -It needs money to telegraph to every town on -the map of Wyoming, to see if such a party has -reached there, and where they went, and to follow -them if they have gone, and to bring them -to justice if they are caught. Oh, I hope he will -find gold there, and then have enough to travel -the wide world over, if need be, to find Dora!”</p> - -<p>“Does it cost money to go on a train? And -do we have to pay when we eat in a hotel?”</p> - -<p>“You bet!” said Bennie, wishing that he was -at any kind of a hotel where he could get a good -meal.</p> - -<p>“Then what am I going to do? I had dinner -and breakfast at the hotel, and did not know it -had to be paid for. Mr. Goldberg gives every -one a dinner, and just ask him if ever he is paid -for it. He gives it, but I don’t know what to -do.”</p> - -<p>“How did you happen to go into the dining-room -alone?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[137]</span></p> - -<p>“I didn’t. Shoshone—I mean Mr. Shoshone—took -me in both times.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, then, you are all right, and he is responsible -for both meals, and I guess he is responsible, -all right. He seems to be a man of -some consequence out here, and I think he is a -good fellow. He seems to like you, too.”</p> - -<p>Just then the two, who were sitting down to -rest, saw the bent form of Morris Goldberg coming -around the bend in the trail, and Bennie -sprang forward to help him, forgetting that he -had carried the heaviest pack all along. Morris -was heard complaining:</p> - -<p>“Are ve nefer going to reach der place, laty? -It’s a vonder dey don’t put in elevators in a -place like dis. It is now von mont’ dot ve haf -tramped like dis und nefer seem to get nearer, -und I am nearly voret out. I vish ve hat not -sold Jake, but den—ve haf to eat. But he vos -a goot horse, und he vos petter as nodings to -carry t’ings.”</p> - -<p>“Have courage. We have now only about -four miles further to go, and then we can camp -upon your claim and settle down to work while -others look for your daughter. All the boys will -do that. I know that Shoshone intends to telegraph -all over, to head them off.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, he is a goot fellow, dot Shoshone is. No<span class="pagenum">[138]</span> -vonder golt is so dear, ven you haf to climb to -vere it is. How long you t’ink it vill take to -fint it, laty?”</p> - -<p>“No one can tell as to that. Sometimes it -takes weeks and months, and sometimes it is -found right on the surface. I knew one man -and he worked at his claim four years, finding -just barely enough to live on in the poorest way, -and everyone thought he had lost his reason, -being alone so long and being always disappointed. -Then, one day, when he had about -given up hope, he stepped on a loose stone, and -as he fell he found his mine. And it is one of -the richest in the State. Others seem to stumble -into good luck at once, and in a week will be -rich. So be of good cheer. These mountains, -dark and forbidding as they look, are full of -gold that will be found some day. We will get -there in time.”</p> - -<p>“May de goot Gott put dis one on de top, for -den I can haf de money to hunt for mein poor -Dora! Laty, I vonder if you know vot it is to -lose your chilt? Oxcuse me, I know you do. I -forgot, but dis is eating my heart out all de time. -I cannot bear it much more!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, here is little Loney”—and as he caressed -the curly hair, Helen continued: “Only -Heaven knows what I would give to see my child<span class="pagenum">[139]</span> -again! But it has been more than ten times as -long as that since your child was stolen. I fear -he is dead! my poor little boy, my baby.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you know I promised you that I would -be your little boy now; anyhow, till you find your -own little boy. Then—I suppose—you won’t -want me any more?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes I would; yes I would, for you are a -comfort to me in my sorrow.”</p> - -<p>The child nestled close to Helen, who passed -her arm around him and drew him close to her -yearning heart. Nothing told this mother, bereft -of her only one, that she held him to her -heart, nor did the numbed intellect of the boy -tell him that this was his mother. And yet they -were mother and son, and destiny was planning -to again divide their ways.</p> - -<p>Morris sat down weakly, in almost the same -place where John had watched the previous -night, but his unused eyes failed to show him -the cigar-butt that lay almost at his feet. He -said, gloomily:</p> - -<p>“How shall ve do apout somedings to eat, -laty? Dere is not much left. Oh, de Bennie! -nefer mindt, nefer mindt, I can get along mit -very little—yust so dot ve fint dot mine.”</p> - -<p>“Hooray!” shouted Bennie, who had been exploring -in the shack. “I have found bacon, coffee,<span class="pagenum">[140]</span> -flour and sugar. Now, what do you think -of that?”</p> - -<p>“I dink dot ve haf no right to touch vot belongs -to oders.”</p> - -<p>“But you don’t know the rules, Mr. Goldberg. -Whatever is in this shack is for the benefit of -the person who comes here for shelter. We have -a perfect right to use what is here. I will cook -some, and then we will go on. We will have -plenty, for the mountains are full of game. I -have tramped for weeks and found all I wanted, -and there must be as much now. We can get -some flour and coffee occasionally and live off -the game for the rest.”</p> - -<p>“Dot’s all right, so long vot you are mit us, -but ven you be gone ve shall go hungry, for I -could not shoot a pirt if mein life tependet upon -it. Yah, you are right. Ve vill be petter to eat -somedings.”</p> - -<p>As Helen went to cut the bacon, to fry, she -was astonished to see that it showed that a piece -had been cut from it, and that the hearth showed -evidence of a recent fire. But she said nothing, -and proceeded to prepare a thick cake of the -flour, to bake in the pan, after which she would -fry the bacon. The coffee would cook at the -same time. She went outside, to gather some -dry wood, and as she stooped down to pick up<span class="pagenum">[141]</span> -one piece she found the stump of the cigar; and, -in some inscrutable way, she associated this -fragment with her recreant husband. It was -just this way that the ends were always chewed, -and smoked just so far. And it was fresh. It -had not lain long in this place, for it showed -neither dust nor was it dry. John Pierson had -passed by this place, Helen felt sure, but why?</p> - -<p>With the habit of silence induced by the solitary -life in the mountains, Helen kept her discovery -to herself, and in a short time they were -all eating their repast thus miraculously provided. -And neither Morris nor Bennie thought -about the forbidden flesh until it was all eaten, -so sharp had been their hunger and so many -had been the events crowded into their lives recently. -When they did realize it, they were contrite, -but they recognized the virtue of necessity. -In this place, as in all mines, bacon is the mainstay, -without which nothing could be done.</p> - -<p>After the meagre but satisfying dinner was -finished, Helen put the remains of the bacon and -flour back into the hanging-box and they prepared -to continue their journey. Even Bennie -was silent and somber, and Loney was so tired -that his legs trembled, even when Helen held -her sustaining arm around him. She began to -wonder how this strange trio could manage to<span class="pagenum">[142]</span> -live the life of hardship before them, and said -as much to Morris, who replied:</p> - -<p>“Ah, I must do it; and, since I do it for Dora, -it is not going to pe too hart for me. I vill vork -so hart as nefer vos to fint de golt, und mit dot -I can soon fint her. Come, childrens, ve must -go on along. De sooner ve start, de sooner ve -get dere. Und den ve rest to-night und get busy -to-morrow. I vish ve hat Jake vonce more.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think you will surely be able to stand -the work, Mr. Goldberg—alone?”</p> - -<p>“Hafen’t I got Bennie and Loney? Vot more -do I vant, oxcept a putcher-shop und a crocery -close py. De question of vere de meals is to -come from is vot bodders me in my mind.”</p> - -<p>“I wanted to say that I will stay up here a -short time until you learn how to manage. I am -a good hunter and think we can keep enough -food on hand to keep us from starvation.”</p> - -<p>Bennie plodded on gloomily ahead, saying -nothing, but bending his strong young back under -the burden of impedimenta, among them a -complete shoemaker’s outfit—all save the bench.</p> - -<p>“Able to stant it,” mused the father; “yes, -I vill stant it, and vork mein fingers to de pone, -to find de golt, so I can find mein Dora!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[143]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Two weeks passed by after the little party of -Morris, Helen, Bennie and Loney had gone to -the mine designated on the paper which had -been given to Morris. These two weeks would -outweigh a year in any other place or time. -Every morning found Morris at work, digging -with pick and shovel, but he made no progress, -for either he had not reached the proper place -or there was not the gold that “Cactus Bill” -had thought there was, something that happens -with the most experienced miners sometimes. -There being no money to purchase food with, -and no handy market, it fared badly with the -novices in mining. Helen went out early every -morning and returned late at night with her -gun, but it would seem as if all the game in the -mountains had left for another State, for she -found next to nothing, and the little camp was -rapidly becoming the abode of hunger—gaunt -and grim. The shoemaker sat down by the side -of the place where he had been digging and<span class="pagenum">[144]</span> -wiped the drops of perspiration from his brow -as he said to Loney, who was always by his -side:</p> - -<p>“It’s no use, Loney, ve haf vorked two weeks, -and fount nodings at all. It is entless, and all -ve get is tired. I vork so hart vot I can, und -mit efery blow I pray to de good Gott to show -me de golt. But I fint it not. Und ven I fint it -not, I nefer fint mein Dora! Here I am mit you -und Bennie in dis strange landt, mitout moneys, -mitout home, and hungry. All ve haf left is -von small piece of dry bread.”</p> - -<p>“And I am so hungry, Mr. Goldberg; so very, -very hungry! Is it almost time to eat?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Loney, it is time. Vait a minute und I -vill go by the ice-chest und get de dinner. Don’t -worry, Loney, de Bennie and de Helen dey both -haf gone to hunt for de game mit deir guns, und -sure dey get someding dis time.”</p> - -<p>“They went yesterday, too, and didn’t bring -anything back. Why don’t you send to the store -for something?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, mein boy, dere is not a store mithin a -hundred miles avay, und if dere pe von I haf no -money. I must fint de golt—I must fint it. If -dere vos efen a telegraph-line—but how could -I telegraph for somedings to eat? Vell, vait, -Loney, till I bring de breat.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[145]</span></p> - -<p>This argument, so convincing to the old man, -was not at all so to the child. But his docile -mind made him rely upon the words of Mr. -Goldberg like on the rising of the sun—a certainty.</p> - -<p>The shoemaker went to the shack and soon -returned with a quarter of a loaf of stale bread. -He looked at it sadly, saying the while:</p> - -<p>“Oh, my! oh, my! The bakers must be on a -strike; eh, Loney? There isn’t much, und ve -must divide it up into four parts, for dere must -pe somedings for de Bennie und de Helen, if -dey come back mitout anyding again.”</p> - -<p>“I’m awful glad it is time to eat, for I am -so hungry. This is the first bite we’ve had since -yesterday.”</p> - -<p>The little fellow’s eyes sparkled as he saw the -bread, which most of us would have thrown -aside as valueless, and waited with impatience -for it to be divided. The shoemaker cut it into -four pieces, picking up and eating the crumbs -that broke off from the loaf as he cut it. He -handed Loney his portion. As the child ate it -ravenously, he shook his head sadly, saying:</p> - -<p>“Yes, this is the last crumb before starvation!”</p> - -<p>Loney had broken his bread into pieces, and -as he left some of them on the rock by his side<span class="pagenum">[146]</span> -Morris broke his bread also into pieces, and put -one piece to his lips, then took it away resolutely, -and, pointing to a tree, said:</p> - -<p>“Is dot a pirt on dat tree ofer dere?”</p> - -<p>The child looked in the direction of the tree, -while Morris slipped the piece of bread down -beside the others on the rock.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see any bird, Mr. Goldberg. Why -don’t you eat your bread? I thought you were -hungry, too.”</p> - -<p>Saying this, the child took the bread from the -rock all unsuspecting that it had been placed -there by the shoemaker. To aid in the deception, -the old man began to chew, saying:</p> - -<p>“Vot you vant me to do? Dere, now, see how -I choke meinselluf!”</p> - -<p>Saying this, the kind man pretended to cough, -and again said:</p> - -<p>“Look, look! I am sure it is a pirt on de tree. -Oh, if de Bennie und de Helen vere only here -now!”</p> - -<p>As the child looked again, earnestly, at the -tree, Morris placed the rest of the bread on the -rock, unperceived. The boy looked in vain for -the bird, and mechanically put his hand behind -him for the bread, and never knew that the good -man had sacrificed himself for the sake of seeing -the child eat the bread. Morris kept up the<span class="pagenum">[147]</span> -deception until he saw that Loney had finished -his scanty meal, and then tears of weakness, -hunger and sorrow mingled and ran, unnoticed, -down his cheeks. Loney saw them and said:</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Goldberg! why are you crying?”</p> - -<p>“Crying? I am laughing. I’m not crying. -Don’t you know de difference between laughing -und crying! Ven ve get de golt ve can hire de -best detective-policemens in de vorld, und den -ve fint her right avay. It is hart dot ve must -haf money, efen to fint our children ven dey pe -lostet. If I fint a million, dot all shall be spent -to fint Dora!”</p> - -<p>“I’ll help you, Mr. Goldberg. Would you buy -me something?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; vot you vant? A naughtymobble? Or -a flying-machine?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes!”</p> - -<p>“Vell, den, I puy you a naughtymobble, mit -a golt horn on it und mit three pounds of diamonds -all arount it. Haf you got a toothpick, -Loney. I haf got mein supper in mein teeth, -und it makes me nervous.”</p> - -<p>“No, sir, I haven’t got one,” said Loney, -ready to cry, to think that he could not give his -benefactor what he wanted. He continued:</p> - -<p>“Nefer mind, Loney. Ve vill vait till after -breakfast.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[148]</span></p> - -<p>“Do you think there will be any breakfast, -Mr. Goldberg?”</p> - -<p>“If dere isn’t, den I vill be a deat’ von! Ah, -sure dere vill be a breakfast. I feel sure dot -de Helen und de Bennie vill find someding, if -only a canary-pirt. Now you, Loney, go py de -tent und sleep some, und lay you down avile. I -vill go to vork again till dey come. Maype I -vill fint de golt.”</p> - -<p>The child went obediently into the tent and -lay down on the bed of leaves, and soon slept. -Goldberg returned to the place where he had -been digging and commenced to work again, -wielding the pick very awkwardly, but with determination.</p> - -<p>During the time that he had been at work at -the claim, he had, under Helen’s guidance and -advice, dug a tunnel for quite a distance under -the mountain, and this he had shored up with -timbers cut from the trees. The work was hard -and his unaccustomed hands were in a terrible -state, but the thought that the discovery of the -gold hidden in this claim meant the means to -seek his child nerved him to the exertion.</p> - -<p>Just above the mouth of his tunnel, but several -feet distant, was a large rock weighing -many tons. Morris looked out toward the trail, -from whence he might expect to see Bennie and<span class="pagenum">[149]</span> -Helen come, but he failed to look upward. Had -he done so, he might have seen the evil faces of -John Pierson and Dopey Mack as they crouched -behind the rock looking down at the mouth of -the tunnel. They had found a cavern several -miles away and had left Dora and Muriel there, -while they came back to this place. John had -known of this claim, but had not known its location, -and now—to see such a chance for wealth -pass from his hands into that of the old shoemaker -was too much, and he determined that the -man must die, so that he could step in and possess -the claim. So steeped was he in crime that -the death of one or more victims counted for -nothing in his eyes.</p> - -<p>When Morris had gone into the tunnel John -whispered to Dopey, saying:</p> - -<p>“Now is our time. We can loosen this big -rock and push it down, so that it will crush him -as he comes out!”</p> - -<p>“Aw, say, boss, why not plug him wid a bullet -and be done wid it?”</p> - -<p>“No; this quiet way is the best, and if anyone -should, by any possibility, be around, that person -will think it an accident. Go and bring that -crowbar.”</p> - -<p>The shoemaker kept at his task inside the -tunnel, but it was growing too dark to work<span class="pagenum">[150]</span> -much longer, and he laid down his pick and -started out, saying, as he did so, that it was no -wonder gold was so costly, since it was so hard -to dig, and it was still less of a wonder that -men turned counterfeiters and thieves, when it -was so much easier to be a bad man than a good -one. Then, again, he took up his pick and tried -to dig a few more strokes, but it was too dark -and he came out of the tunnel and sat down on -a rock, where he suddenly gave way to grief and -sobbed as only strong men do.</p> - -<p>“It is no use, no use! Dora, mein Dora, vere -are you? Are you deat or lifing?”</p> - -<p>Just then the moon rose over the brow of the -mountain and fell upon his upturned face as he -lifted his hands and prayed aloud:</p> - -<p>“Oh, Gott! de fader abofe, send me mein chilt -to me. I haf vaited so long for her dot mein -heart shall surely preak. Oh, Gott! send me -mein chilt!”</p> - -<p>In the meantime John and Dopey, having -loosened the rock, sneaked away silently, leaving -the rock balanced on a hair almost. They -circled around and escaped being seen by the -rocks and tree-stumps, and stood at a safe distance -from the mine, as the rock might rebound. -In such a case it would be difficult to decide -which way it would go. While they stood hidden,<span class="pagenum">[151]</span> -waiting the moment when the loosened rock -should come crashing down, there was a soft -sound, as of small feet brushing along the leafy -rocks, and a plaintive voice became audible as -someone sang:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Tell me that you love me,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">Tell me softly, sweetly, as of old.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The poor father thought this was the answer -to his prayer and believed that Dora was dead -and this was her spirit that had come to warn -him of her death. He sank to the ground, sobbing, -incapable of other movement. Then, again, -clearer, nearer came the sound of the dear voice, -and Morris raised his head to see his child come -walking toward him and singing the old song as -she came. He half-whispered:</p> - -<p>“Dora, mein chilt—alife! Dank Gott—alife!”</p> - -<p>“Who are you, sir?” asked Dora, looking at -her father as we look at strangers. “I don’t -know you. I am looking for my father and Bennie.”</p> - -<p>“Look at me, mein chilt! I am your fader! -Don’t you know me?”</p> - -<p>“No—I don’t know you, and I must go away -from you, for I must find my father and Bennie.”</p> - -<p>As she said these words, poor Dora walked<span class="pagenum">[152]</span> -away toward the ravine from whence she had -come. Muriel, worn out with watching, had -fallen asleep, and Dora had somehow found another -entrance to the cave and gone out that -way, which brought her to the mouth of the tunnel -where her father was at work trying to get -gold to seek for his daughter, and now that he -had found her he discovered that she was insane -and did not know him. As she went back -toward the ravine her father roused from his -stupor and cried:</p> - -<p>“Dora! Dora! come back! Come back!” But -she disappeared from his sight in the darkening -shadows, while John and Dopey both sprang at -Morris, saying roughly:</p> - -<p>“Where are you going?”</p> - -<p>“Stand avay! I am going to get mein chilt.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll do nothing of the kind. She belongs -to me now.”</p> - -<p>“Stand avay! or, py de Gott dot made me, I -vill kill you!”</p> - -<p>“Kill?” sneered John, “why, you poor Jew, -you wouldn’t kill anything.”</p> - -<p>“Jew; yes, I am a Jew, but I haf anoder name -and dot is vot de vorld calls Fader, und a fader -dot vill die for his young.”</p> - -<p>“Stay where you are, or die!” said John.</p> - -<p>“Mein chilt is dere, und you shall not keep<span class="pagenum">[153]</span> -me from her!” said Morris, with a white, set -face; and then, for the first time in his life, Morris -Goldberg was fighting, but this was for his -child. He had no thought of danger, but sprang -at John’s throat. They struggled with great -ferocity. John had not expected to find such -strength in the arms of the old man, and had all -he could do to ward off the strangling fingers, -but he managed to free himself from their grasp -and call “Dopey! at him!”</p> - -<p>Then the shoemaker sprang, with his back to -the rocky side of his tunnel, after having seized -a pick. This he flourished, saying:</p> - -<p>“The first one dot moves, I vill brain!”</p> - -<p>Loney heard the noise of the conflict and -crept softly from the tent, and, seeing in what -danger his friend was, started away in the hope -of bringing aid. Dopey waited for no further -orders, but fired his pistol at Morris who ducked -and the ball went wide of its mark, and higher. -It struck the big rock they had pried loose, and -the sudden impact of the ball caused it to recoil -and then topple down with a great crash. It -rolled on down until it settled solidly at the very -feet of John Pierson, who gave it one look and -then said:</p> - -<p>“Well! by—— That rock is seamed with -gold! He has struck it rich, like all fools. He<span class="pagenum">[154]</span> -must have the deed to this claim. Upon him! at -him, Dopey!” But Dopey had fired his only -shot and could not get near enough, on account -of that deadly pickaxe which Morris would -surely use, as he was worked up to a pitch -where he had thrown his usual prudence to the -winds. He said, while the full extent of his -good fortune began to dawn upon his rather -slow intelligence:</p> - -<p>“I haf not de deet, und, if I hat, I vould die -pefore I vould gif it to you!”</p> - -<p>Dopey reached around and took possession of -one of John’s revolvers and aimed at Morris -when John, feeling sure of their superiority -over the lonely man, said:</p> - -<p>“Don’t shoot, Dopey! Don’t kill him! If he -hasn’t the deed on him, we’ll make him tell -where it is. We must take him alive. Come on!”</p> - -<p>Both of the scoundrels sprang at Morris, -whose mind was bewildered by the simultaneous -attack, and he wavered, so that Dopey managed -to strike him over the head with a slung-shot, -which caused the unfortunate man to fall, -groaning and helpless, to the ground!</p> - -<p>“Ah, now we have him,” said John, “and -we’ll take him to the hut and torture him to -death by inches until he gives us the deed to -this mine of gold!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[155]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Down the trail there was a small procession -coming to the relief of the starved-out camp. -Helen had seen an Indian, and as they all fairly -worshipped her as a superior being there was -not one of them who would not have coursed all -over the State of Wyoming to do her a service. -She sent to Shoshone for food, and they were -now on the road. Even Snakes had come along, -leaving his hotel to the care of his help. Dan -and Mike were also of the relief-party. Mike -had hurt his foot and found it a difficult matter -to walk. They had ridden to the place, all but -Mike, whose pony had somehow gone so lame -that they were obliged to leave him. The others -would have changed off with him and let him -ride, but he took this as an insult to his manhood, -that he should be treated like a baby, or, -worse yet, a tenderfoot.</p> - -<p>“Well, then, come on. You are worse than a -pack of English tenderfoots. If we are going to -find the Angel and her friends, we must get a -move on. That’s what we must.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[156]</span></p> - -<p>“What do you think we are? A bunch of burros -or mountain-goats? Do you think we can -climb these rocks the same as if they was flat -prairie?” said Dan, angry that Mike should be -treated so badly, for they all knew that Mike -never shirked in anything from work to a free -fight.</p> - -<p>“Don’t mind Shoshone, Mike; he is stabbed -by the spurs of love, and he don’t know what -he is saying half the time. He’s got cactus -stickers in his topknot, and he’s as sassy as a -loon. Let him rave. Let him rave.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you all know that I busted my saddle-girth -a while back and that dumped me out like -a bag of flour, and kind ’er twisted my ankle.”</p> - -<p>They all laughed at the wry face Mike made, -but he sat down, obstinately saying:</p> - -<p>“Now, look here, fellows; this is nothing to -laugh at. I’ve heard of people faintin’ away -with this, and I ain’t no coward when it comes -to it, and that you all know. I must rest this -foot a little, and that’s all there is to it.”</p> - -<p>“Snakes, you stay here with Mike and we’ll -push on. Somehow, I’ve got a hunch that we’re -needed up at the claim,” said Shoshone.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Mike, “you all stay for ten minutes. -That’s all I ask.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, did you sprain your warbler,<span class="pagenum">[157]</span> -too? If not, then let’s sing, to ease the pain,” -said Shoshone. He well knew the virtues of the -singing to the cattle, so why not try it on the -suffering man? So he started the song and the -rocky canyon resounded with the melody, for -these men make real music with their singing -out in the open. And scarcely had they finished -the song than they heard a familiar “Whoo-hoo,” -and, with one accord, they said:</p> - -<p>“The Angel. No use talking, our warbling -would bring the angels down. Whoo-hoo, Angel, -this way!”</p> - -<p>“I am awfully glad to see you, boys,” said -Helen, as she climbed down the declevity. -“We’ve been hunting for game and found none, -and are pretty well starved out up there. And -the little fellow needs better food.”</p> - -<p>“Come on, boys; come quick! Scoot, you -wolves, and get a lamb from the nearest flock! -Don’t stand there looking, but scoot. I’ve got -enough with me for one good square meal all -ready, and the rest will be easy. Mike, you get -on my cayuse. We can’t wait.”</p> - -<p>“What is it, Mike? Have you turned your -ankle? Let me see it. No saying a word, but -take off your boot, and quick,” said Helen, in -the most matter-of-fact business sort of way. -Then she deftly felt the injured foot and, with a<span class="pagenum">[158]</span> -quick wrench that made the strong man pale to -the lips, she said:</p> - -<p>“Why, Mike, it was dislocated. No wonder -it hurt. Now I’ll bandage it the best I can until -we get to civilization again.”</p> - -<p>With a long strip of cloth which she carried -in a little bag hung to her waist, Helen bandaged -the foot while the others looked on in wonder, -all wishing the ankle his own. Then Mike was -kindly forced to mount the horse, and Shoshone -outdid himself in consideration for Mike.</p> - -<p>As Dan and Snakes started for the lamb, -Helen called them and told them the place was -at the head of the small gulch on Bald Knob. -Then she hurried Shoshone and Mike along, her -own feet seeming tireless, although she had been -tramping over the mountains all day long, and -hungry.</p> - -<p>“Whenever the Injuns come around as thick -as they have been lately,” said Mike, “the game -gits scarce at once. I think as how the critters -has a way of telling each other that it ain’t -healthy for them to stay. Animals know lots -more than we think. And they know that we -don’t bother much with them so long as there -is fat yearlings to eat for the asking. So when -the Injuns come back from one of their jaunts,<span class="pagenum">[159]</span> -the critters just mosey off, each one telling the -other that it ain’t safe to stay.”</p> - -<p>“I think you are right, Mike, and I have -thought it so, too. But now we will be all right. -I haven’t had a bite since yesterday.”</p> - -<p>Shoshone turned pale and hastily took the -knapsack from his back, but Helen refused to -touch a thing until they were all at the claim.</p> - -<p>“Vamose, vamose, boys!” cried Shoshone to -the others, who were going as fast as the nature -of the ground would permit toward a ranch -down the valley. “Hurry up, you catamounts! -Come, and keep coming till there’s enough grub -for a month. The Angel is starved—that’s -what!”</p> - -<p>Scarcely had the ringing voice of Shoshone -ceased reverberating through the ravine than -Helen and Shoshone saw the frail form of little -Loney come flying down toward them. With all -his feeble strength, he cried:</p> - -<p>“Help! Help!”</p> - -<p>“Why, Loney! what is the matter?” asked -Helen, taking the panting child in her arms. -“Speak, child, speak!”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Goldberg! Mr. Goldberg!”</p> - -<p>“What’s wrong, Loney?” asked Shoshone, -filled with apprehension, for he knew how ignorant -the old man was of life in this region,<span class="pagenum">[160]</span> -and he thought, in one brief instant, of dozens -of dangers he might have run into through his -ignorance—from a nest of mountain-lions to a -cave-in of his tunnel.</p> - -<p>“He is dead! He is dead!”</p> - -<p>“Dead!” said Helen. “Dead! How?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; he is dead! Some men came and killed -him with a funny stick. They fired at him, and -a rock came down, but it didn’t hurt him, and -then they hit him and killed him, because he -wouldn’t tell them where a deed, I think they -said, was. And I hid in the rocks and run away.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know who could have been vile -enough to injure that good man. He was like a -child in his truthfulness and like an angel in his -goodness. And he was good to me. Come on, -Shoshone and Mike, come on. Let us go to him, -and I swear to search Wyoming to avenge the -death of this good and inoffensive man! Shoshone, -if I am anything at all of what all you -boys believe me to be, I owe it to him. He taught -me that it is never too late to mend.”</p> - -<p>“So will I,” said Shoshone solemnly, as to -himself, while Mike said:</p> - -<p>“You can count me in, too, Angel, and together -we will find who has done this thing, and -bring swift punishment on him.”</p> - -<p>They rode on in the gathering dusk and soon<span class="pagenum">[161]</span> -were by the shack that had been built near the -claim, as it was convenient for water. There -was a light inside, a fact which seemed remarkable, -and which made them use much caution.</p> - -<p>During the time when Loney had been running -down the trail and returning with Helen, -Shoshone and Mike, John and Dopey had taken -the inert form of Morris and carried it to the -shack and placed it on the bed in a position so -that they could torture him at their leisure.</p> - -<p>The table had a lighted lamp upon it. Morris -lay pale and almost in a comatose condition. -On the table by the lamp lay a heavy bar of -iron. John and Dopey were making a hurried -search for the missing deed when Morris -groaned and stirred slightly on the bed, which -caused the two miscreants to stop in their fruitless -search and approach him. In the fracas -John’s false beard had become loosened, and he -let it fall, while Dopey, who took his cue always -from John, drew his off also, and they stood -revealed as the two who had carried Dora from -her home.</p> - -<p>“’Ow is he, boss? T’ink we’d better get -t’rough wid him?”</p> - -<p>“He seems unconscious. That pounding you -gave him with the slung-shot was too much for -his thick head, and may kill him, after all! He<span class="pagenum">[162]</span> -hasn’t been able to speak a word since he has -been here. But you shall speak!” he continued -to Morris, “you shall speak and tell me where -to find the deed, or I’ll slit your throat for you! -Wake up and speak, or I’ll tear your heart out, -you old fool! Where is the deed? Where is the -deed, I say?” Then the villain choked the unconscious -man, shaking him like a rat, and finally -discouraged, threw him back again upon the -pillow. “It’s no use, Dopey; he is the same as -dead! We must wait and search!”</p> - -<p>“Dora! Dora! mein little chilt!” murmured -the unconscious Morris, in a feeble tone.</p> - -<p>“Hear dat, boss? He spoke!”</p> - -<p>“And he’ll speak again, or I’ll cut his -throat!” And as he said these words, John -bent over Morris and threatened him with a -keen and shining knife. “Will you speak and -tell me where that deed is, or shall I cut your -throat? Answer me!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, cut away, boss! You’re losin’ time.”</p> - -<p>“And lose the deed to that mine—not much. -I’d rather wait. He was talking of his child -while still unconscious, and that makes me feel -sure he will come to in time and tell us where -the deed is, or he’ll never leave this bed alive!”</p> - -<p>“And where is de gal now?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[163]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, Muriel has got her, and I’ve got them -both fastened in the old shack below.”</p> - -<p>At this instant there was a loud hallo, which -caused the two murderers to grow pale and -start, but John said:</p> - -<p>“There’s someone coming! Bar the door, -Dopey!”</p> - -<p>“Settle him now, before he comes to and tells -tales!”</p> - -<p>“You are right, Dopey. I’ll smother him!” -And, saying these fateful words, John seized -the pillow and pressed it down over the prostrate -man’s face, while his ears were strained -to catch any sounds.</p> - -<p>There was a loud and insistent knock on the -cabin-door, which had been made to withstand -the attacks of mountain-lions or any other possible -depredators, and the ringing voice of Shoshone -said:</p> - -<p>“Open! Open, I say! Whoever you are, open -the door!”</p> - -<p>John made a motion to Dopey to keep still, -while he took out his pistol and stood on -guard, forgetting, in his peril, to press the pillow -down over Morris’ face, while Shoshone, -without, again commanded that the door be -opened or he would break it down. John returned -to the attack upon Morris, and again<span class="pagenum">[164]</span> -pressed the pillow down tightly, intending to -finish his work and then, if so be, fight the intruders -later.</p> - -<p>There was but a short time before the door -began to cede to the efforts of Shoshone and -Mike, who now forgot his lame ankle, and John -saw instantly that his only hope was to pay in -audacity for his imprudence, so when Shoshone -and Mike entered the hut he had laid one of -his pistols on the table, as though that were the -only one he had. The pillow had been placed -back of the man, and Shoshone came forward, -saying sternly:</p> - -<p>“So he is here, and you are the men who have -murdered him!”</p> - -<p>“You are wrong there, Mister. We were riding -along when we heard the sound of trouble -and dismounted, and came to see what we could -do, and found this poor man wounded, and -brought him in. While we were doing this, the -scoundrels, whoever they were, rode off on our -horses with our entire outfit.”</p> - -<p>“What is that pistol doing on the table? Is -that the kind of medicine you have been giving -him?”</p> - -<p>“That is not my pistol. We don’t need pistols. -We are simply honest prospectors, trying -to locate a mine somewhere.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[165]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, I’m not armed, either,” said Shoshone. -“I fell into a hole coming here, and -dropped mine; so, if you are honest men, I don’t -need them, and you will help me to help my -friend.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly we will, and be glad to do so,” -said John.</p> - -<p>Shoshone would have known John, had he not -taken off the very perfect false beard he had -worn, although he had not seen very much of -him during their short stay at the hotel.</p> - -<p>“I have a friend coming along behind, and -she is a famous nurse. Our poor friend here -will need good care if he is to live.”</p> - -<p>Saying this, Shoshone went to the door, as if -going out, while the wounded man, by a supreme -effort, reached his hand out to the table, and -then, thinking that unsafe, began to tap the -Morse telegraphic call on a board of the bed:</p> - -<p class="center boldfont" style="word-spacing:0.5em">(. : . : .) -</p> - -<p>“What’s that?” asked John, startled, in spite -of himself, and not understanding the tapping. -Shoshone returned from the door, saying to -himself, “The telegraphic call.” Then the -wounded man again tapped, and this time it -came</p> - -<p class="center boldfont" style="word-spacing:0.5em">—. : . .. .... .. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[166]</span></p> - -<p>“Why, what does this mean?”</p> - -<p>Again the raps sounded out, loud and distinct, -as Morris struck his hardened knuckles -against the board, making these sounds:</p> - -<p class="center boldfont" style="word-spacing:0.5em">.. ::: ..—.: .... .. ... .. .. -</p> - -<p>Shoshone read “These are the men who tried -to rob and murder me!”</p> - -<p>As Shoshone read these signs aloud, John -saw that the game was up and he must save -himself as best he could, and sprang to reach -his pistol, but Shoshone was too quick for him -and pulled him to the floor, while Dopey came -from the shadow where he had kept himself -purposely and fell upon Shoshone, and the three -went struggling to the floor. Morris had by now -completely regained his consciousness, though -not his strength, and, finding himself unable to -rise, he reached out and managed, by a super-human -effort, to reach the pistol on the table -and fire it just as John had seized the heavy -lamp to brain Shoshone with it, as Dopey held -him down, and although Morris fired at random -almost, he was fortunate enough to hit John in -the arm, while the lamp dropped to the floor, -just as Helen and Loney came panting in.</p> - -<p>John and Dopey made their escape in the confusion,<span class="pagenum">[167]</span> -and there was nothing left to do but to -prepare and eat a good supper, which helped -materially in restoring Morris, who told them -of having seen his daughter, and that she did -not know him.</p> - -<p>Helen felt sure that her captors were holding -her for a ransom, wishing to get the mine -into their control. They discussed the question -awhile, and then Loney said:</p> - -<p>“Why, Mr. Goldberg, those two men were the -very same that killed the man in the shop. And -when they struck you to-day they were not -shaved. To-night they are shaved, and I know -them. They are awful bad men. They took Dora, -and they hit me. Oh, dear! it makes my head -hurt to think about it!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[168]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIV.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was several weeks after the events narrated -in the last chapter, and there was quite -an excitement at a place which, though not yet -born, was named Boomtown. There was to be -a portion of the Reservation to be given over to -settlers, and many women were among the men -who were ready to cross the line at the signal -and take up their section of ground, and thus -establish a home.</p> - -<p>Morris had gained his strength, and Bennie -had gotten over the mortification of having -been chased up a tree by what he considered -some vicious animal on the momentous night of -the attack on Morris, only to find in the morning -that it had been but a cow that had strayed -from the herd and wanted human companionship. -Bennie had been unmercifully guyed by -the rough men, but he took it all in such good -part that they ceased tormenting him and liked -him better than he knew.</p> - -<p>Helen and Loney were almost inseparable,<span class="pagenum">[169]</span> -and under her good care and the good fare and -bracing mountain air he was fast rounding into -a fine boy—healthy and rosy.</p> - -<p>Shoshone, as well as all the men and women -within range, was as fond of Helen as ever. Her -errands of mercy and kindness, done always -without money and without price, endeared her -to all alike, even the Indians looking upon her -as something saintly and one whom they should -respect as one sent from the Great Spirit.</p> - -<p>Dora had disappeared entirely, and no one -could find the slightest trace of her. The patient -Indians had been impressed into the -search, but no tidings came from her, and no -trace of John, Muriel or Dopey could be found. -Morris despaired, and had grown old and almost -gray. Bennie had lost much of his bright -gayety, and it seemed as though the shadow -would never be lifted.</p> - -<p>Morris had discovered that Helen was the -sister of the dead man, and as such he gave her -her share of the claim which they were now sure -was of great value, but often a rich claim is -known well to be, so it lies idle and unproductive -for want of the money to pay to work it. -This claim, which promised so well, would need -deep tunnelling, a quartz-mill and all the other -things necessary to properly work it. Morris<span class="pagenum">[170]</span> -and Helen might stay there forever and dig out -a few dollars worth of gold a day, but, with -millions almost in sight, it would be asking too -much of them to expect them to do this, when -Helen knew if Morris did not, that there were -plenty men with the means and the knowledge -ready to join them once they were convinced -that the mine was all they claimed.</p> - -<p>So, to try and find one of these rare birds, -the capitalist, Helen and Morris with Loney, -and Bennie, came down to Hellandgone, and -were persuaded by Shoshone and the others of -the “old crowd,” as they called themselves, to -come over to the rush into the Reservation. -Helen was to cross the line with Loney, and lay -claim to one parcel for the child and one for -herself.</p> - -<p>Bennie was looking all about for Morris, who -had disappeared strangely and suddenly, but -without success.</p> - -<p>There was a great crowd gathered at the edge -of the railroad, waiting for the signal to cross it, -for the roadbed was the line of demarkation, -and on the farther side was the land for distribution. -Red Eagle was there, looking on the -crowd and at the land with a somber face. This -land had belonged to his forbears from beyond -recollection, and, little by little, it had been<span class="pagenum">[171]</span> -taken away from them, until now this last and -best strip was to be given over to the white -man.</p> - -<p>When all had gathered, that seemed likely to -come, Shoshone mounted a large dry-goods box -that seemed to be there providentially for the -purpose and shouted:</p> - -<p>“Listen! ladies and gentlemen. I am Pete -Browning, known to you best as Shoshone Pete. -I have been appointed Marshal of Boomtown. -I am here to preserve order. Any decent man -and I will get along all hunky, but all thugs, -crooks and bad men take warning, for I’ll shoot -on sight! Now you know me, who I am and what -I’m here for.”</p> - -<p>All the “boys” from Hellandgone and the adjacent -country gave in chorus their yell of -“Ee—you!” until the very ground trembled.</p> - -<p>“He’s a wanderer from Dead Man’s Gulch, -but he’s not alone, for we’re his little brothers!” -shouted Dan. Then again resounded -the “Zip! Zip! yee, you!” in which Red Eagle -joined with unction, for he smelled whiskey as -the ending of this festival. Then Red Eagle -was cheered, at which he bowed with preternatural -dignity.</p> - -<p>At this juncture Snakes Duffy came up with -a keg of whiskey on his shoulder, at which everybody<span class="pagenum">[172]</span> -cheered, but Helen went to him and, -smiling pleasantly, asked him something, to -which he nodded assent and deliberately turned -the keg on end and sat down on it. He disposed -himself so as to listen to what Shoshone had to -say, and this gentleman spoke:</p> - -<p>“To those who don’t know, let me state that -at 12 o’clock precisely, a few seconds from now, -as Deputy United States Marshal, I shall fire -my pistol, and that will be the signal for the -crossing of the line, which is the railroad track. -Over there is the Reservation, and no man must -cross it until he hears the signal. The one who -does it, does so at the risk of his life!”</p> - -<p>Shoshone stood still as a statue, looking at his -watch and holding his great pistol with its shining -barrel.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be in a hurry, boys; don’t be in a hurry -to try your wings. He’s from the heart of -the Gulch and shoots with both hands—never -misses, either.”</p> - -<p>This advice probably had some effect, for everyone -kept in his place, when Mike shouted, -and in a voice loud enough to be heard all over -the county:</p> - -<p>“Say, boys, we all owe it to the Angel that -she should be given one minute’s start over everyone -here. All in favor of it say ‘aye.’”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[173]</span></p> - -<p>Such a chorus of “ayes” rose that it showed -Helen that her gentle ministrations and self-sacrifice -had been appreciated in her own generation.</p> - -<p>“Go, Angel, and take the boy, Loney, along. -He ought to have a start in life.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, friends,” said Helen, “I will do -this, not so much for myself——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, go on and pick out a pretty place, and -the boys will build you a shack.”</p> - -<p>Smiling happily, Helen went across the track -and back some yards and sat down. With a -shout then Shoshone fired his pistol, and there -was a wild rush of all present, but it was a -good-natured one, thanks to the absence of the -cause of most of the disputes of the far West—whiskey.</p> - -<p>Then a strange phenomenon took place. As -the pistol was fired, Shoshone sprang from the -box and rushed forward with the rest, intent on -finding Helen and protecting her from the rushing -feet, and this box rose in the air of itself -and two legs showed beneath it, until it reached -the goal it had set, and then the box with the -legs under it sat down on the ground, and those -near could read the legend:</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Morris Goldberg, Shoemaker, & Real Estate.</span> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[174]</span></p> - -<p>All present sent up such a shout of laughter -that it set the crowd in such good humor that -the town was born without a single fight.</p> - -<p>As Shoshone reached the side of the dry-goods -box he was nearly dead from laughter, but managed -to say:</p> - -<p>“Well, you have beat us all, Mr. Goldberg. -We have but our lots, while you have your house -all done, and are ready for business.”</p> - -<p>“Yah, dere pe no flies on me, Mr. Shoshone. -Vere is der Angel, mein partner in der claim? -Meppe ve make some moneys in real estate, und -I can vork at mein trate until ve fix it all. Yust -to t’ink, she vos de sister of dot ‘Cactus Bill.’ -I dell you dot she is a real angel. Didn’t she -dake care of me after dot scoundrel knocked me -out? Und she is like a mutter to dot Loney. -Und she is so goot. Ach, Gott! if I haf millions, -dey should all be hers.”</p> - -<p>Somehow this frank admiration was not so -pleasant to Shoshone as it might have been. He -felt a sort of tugging at his heart that he had -never felt before. Was it jealousy? He did not -know exactly, but it was a very uncomfortable -feeling. Then he asked how it was that Morris, -with a claim, and thus a home of his own, should -have come down here to try to grasp a homestead.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[175]</span></p> - -<p>“Ah, mein friendt, it vos because one of dem -cigar-store signs came und said dot he haf heard -dot dose mens vot haf stole mein chilt vos coming -here, und I comet too. Und so long as ve -vos here, it don’t cost nodings to take de claim, -and so, meppe, I vork und make enough to vork -de claim. Say, Shoshone, vy you don’t get merrit -mit de Angel, and live here, too?”</p> - -<p>This innocent question so took Shoshone by -surprise that for a moment he could not speak. -Then he said, sadly:</p> - -<p>“I would, but she won’t have me. I don’t -blame her for not liking one so rough.”</p> - -<p>“Ut-tut, I haf see in her eyes, ven she look -at you, dot she likes you, und——”</p> - -<p>Here Shoshone seized the old man’s hand and -fairly wrung it in his joy. The shoemaker said, -simply:</p> - -<p>“Vell, I call de Bennie to bring me mein tools -und I pegin piziness, if dere is any; und if not, -den ve set de tent. Und Helen vill haf de tent -till she can get a house. Vill you come?”</p> - -<p>Would he go to where Helen was? He certainly -would, and did.</p> - -<p>John and Dopey had been in that crowd. -John’s resources always depended on the men -that he could fleece at gambling, or some other -game of confidence. They had resumed their<span class="pagenum">[176]</span> -full beards and dressed in a different manner, -so they felt sure they would not be recognized -if anyone of the crowd at Hellandgone should -be at the birth of the new town. John had caught -sight of Morris, and said to Dopey:</p> - -<p>“Either that Jew is the smartest detective in -the United States or the biggest fool for luck. -It doesn’t matter much which, but it seems impossible -to get rid of him.”</p> - -<p>“Have you tried de right way yet, boss? You -allus lets him get away. It wouldn’t be noticed -if he was to get a stray bullet in his gizzard now. -There is allus a shooting-match in this kind of -a ruction.”</p> - -<p>“You are right. This is the place and time to -rid ourselves of him. Here we put our necks in -danger, sneaking in the back way, so to speak, -and run up against the old man, and the daughter -still on our hands. We have got to play this -game fine or we’ll lose. And here she has come -to her senses again. That is one of the unaccountable -things no one can explain. Some persons -go suddenly insane and as suddenly regain -their reason. It doubles our danger. And Muriel -has turned such a tiger-cat about her. Oh, -hide! hide quick! For if God is to judge me, -here comes my wife, and the boy with her. How<span class="pagenum">[177]</span> -shall we get him away, for no one knows when -or what he may tell?”</p> - -<p>The two scoundrels escaped in the crowd, and -pretended to be hunting for someone. The last -thing they would now think of was to try to settle -in the place made so dangerous for them.</p> - -<p>Helen and the child came along to the box -where Morris had fixed his abode and sat down -upon it, she having registered the two claims. -She said:</p> - -<p>“We must try and get back to the Gulch before -there is any kind of trouble, for often when -there is a crowd like this they get to drinking -and fighting. Snakes was so good, and would -not sell any, but there may be others who will. -Some of the men are desperate characters.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s hurry then, for I wouldn’t want anything -to happen to you, because I love you so -much.”</p> - -<p>“Do you love me, Loney? That sounds so -sweet, and I am so glad that I could win your -affection. And I am glad if I could to-day do -anything to insure your future. If my own little -boy had lived, he would have been about your -own age. And he must have looked as you do -had he lived.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I wish that I had been your little boy.<span class="pagenum">[178]</span> -You don’t know how it feels to know you are -nobody’s boy.”</p> - -<p>All the boomers were occupied each with his -own plans, and they seemed to consist in getting -their claims registered, and after that getting -their tents set up. In a surprisingly short time -the place looked like a miniature village done in -white. No one seemed to notice that two men -had approached Helen and the child, who were -still sitting on the box which Morris owned. As -she saw these rough-looking men, each with a -full dark beard, Helen started, for there was -something sinister in their manner. She turned -to them, saying:</p> - -<p>“Who are you, and what do you want?”</p> - -<p>“Never mind who I am. I know my business, -and it is that I want that boy.”</p> - -<p>“What right have you to ask such a thing? -What is this child to you?”</p> - -<p>As Helen said this firmly, John stood so that -he was hidden from sight, while he removed his -false beard, saying:</p> - -<p>“Look at me closely and, maybe, you will -know.”</p> - -<p>“My God! it is John Pierson!”</p> - -<p>“Yes; John Pierson, and that boy’s father.”</p> - -<p>“Then I am his mother. Touch him if you -dare!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[179]</span></p> - -<p>“Don’t let him take me! Don’t let him! It was -that man that killed the man in New York and -tried to kill me!” screamed Loney, clinging to -Helen wildly.</p> - -<p>“Don’t fear, my child! for he shall not harm -one hair of your head!”</p> - -<p>“And what will you do? What can you do to -prevent it?”</p> - -<p>“Do? Stand here and fight for him until -you’ve hacked me to pieces with that murderous -knife! And I bid you beware, for I am his -mother!”</p> - -<p>“Onto her, Dopey! We’ll settle this right -now!”</p> - -<p>Dopey started toward Helen with his slung-shot -raised for a crushing blow, when he -stopped suddenly with his arm raised, as he -saw behind John the long figure of Morris, who -stood there, with his pistol raised, ready to fire.</p> - -<p>Morris had not lived long as he had in the -West without learning how to shoot and to employ -some of the picturesque language in use -there.</p> - -<p>“Looket out, mein frients! Diss is de Yiddish -doctor, und he might fill you full of a kint of -pills you vouldn’t like so vell.”</p> - -<p>“Get away, Dopey; here comes someone else -we don’t want to meet.” And they started<span class="pagenum">[180]</span> -away so suddenly that Morris had no chance to -shoot, had he dared fire in that crowded place.</p> - -<p>“Und I dare not shoot, although dose are de -mens vot haf mein Dora.”</p> - -<p>“They are the ones that killed the man in -your shop, for I saw the big one take off his -whiskers—and it was the same one!”</p> - -<p>“Und mein chilt, maype, is among dis crowd. -May de goot Gott show me de vay to fint her!”</p> - -<p>While this was transpiring, Helen was kneeling -at Loney’s side, weeping with joy and kissing -the child at the same time. “May He help -you to find your child as He has helped me find -mine! Loney is my own little boy, whom -Heaven has sent back to his mother’s heart. -Thank God! that he did not die!”</p> - -<p>“I knew that you would come back some day, -for I always prayed you would. I knew I would -find my mother. I don’t like my father, for he -is bad and wicked. He tried to kill me, and carried -Dora away!”</p> - -<p>“Is that so, Mr. Goldberg? It is then but an -added crime.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Helen, und I haf prayet dot I vould -fint mein child. I vill go out und look in efery -blace till I see if she is here. Go you to de tent -und stay dere till I come again. You are not -safe here.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[181]</span></p> - -<p>Bennie came back sad and crestfallen. What -to him were all the lots in the world without -Dora, and even his optimistic soul was down in -the depths of despair. But all he said was:</p> - -<p>“I will go with you to look for her. I think -I saw the two men that we seek among the boomers, -but am not sure; but, in any case, it is better -than sitting still.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Bennie, ve must fint her or I shall lose -my reason.”</p> - -<p>So Helen and the child started back to the -tent and went inside, and there they were measurably -safe, as they were surrounded by boomers -who were busy setting their tents in order.</p> - -<p>“Oh, mother,” said Loney, “how glad I am -that we have found each other! Now, when it -comes night, I can say my prayers at your knees -instead of all alone.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and you must always pray for the good -man who took you into his home when you were -an outcast, through your own father’s wickedness. -It was he who showed me that it was never -too late to mend. And I do not intend to ever -try to teach you to revere the memory of such a -father as yours is. He is unworthy of such a -child, even unworthy of me.”</p> - -<p>“Mother, they call you the Angel here. Why?<span class="pagenum">[182]</span> -Oh, I know; it is because you are so kind to everyone. -Teach me, so that I may be like you.”</p> - -<p>Scarcely had Helen and Loney gone from the -box when Muriel and Dora came to the very -spot. Muriel was pale and worn out, and her -once handsome garments were almost in rags -from the long marches and the exposure to -which she had been subjected. Dora was dressed -in a pretty and complete Indian maiden’s -costume which Muriel had bought from Red -Eagle, whose love for firewater had caused him -to barter away what his squaw had kept sacred -ever since her daughter had died in her youth. -So, unless he happened to see her face, John -would scarcely have recognized Dora. She had -a shawl drawn up over her head, so as to conceal -her identity still better. Muriel said, hurriedly:</p> - -<p>“Go, go! and get lost in the crowd! I cannot -protect you longer!”</p> - -<p>She did not tell Dora that she knew herself to -be dying from pneumonia, for she knew the child -then would not leave her, so she held Dora close -to her heart for a moment, and then sent her -away.</p> - -<p>“I thank you with all my heart for all your -goodness to me, and I will pray that Heaven<span class="pagenum">[183]</span> -may repay you for all you have endured for -me!”</p> - -<p>“Go, go! I fancy I see them following us in -the crowd back there. And it will cost our lives -if they find us again! Go, Dora!”</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, dear Muriel. God bless and keep -you safe!” And Dora mingled with the crowd, -none of whom took more than casual notice of -the squaw, for squaws were common about -there.</p> - -<p>Shoshone came by the box, hoping to find the -shoemaker. Helen was with him, but the boy -was not. “And,” he said, continuing a conversation -they had had:</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry about the boy, Helen. He is -safer with the boys than with you.”</p> - -<p>They did not notice Muriel, who looked at -Helen for a moment with tears in her eyes and -then slipped away unseen by Helen, whose sorrows -she had caused in a great measure.</p> - -<p>“Are you sure he would be safe with them? -Think what it would mean to me to lose him -again!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry. Anyone of the boys would die -for you any day, and as he is your boy they -would naturally transfer their allegiance to him. -And you say it is his father who, to rob you of -him, killed your brother, ‘Cactus Bill,’ and stole<span class="pagenum">[184]</span> -this poor Dora? Say, he must be aching for the -noose. And, besides, it was he who tried to kill -Goldberg!”</p> - -<p>“Yes; he is John Pierson. I saw him but just -now, and he tried to take my child again. Oh, I -wonder such men are permitted to live! He outraged -every human emotion, abandoned me with -another woman, and to think that he should have -killed my poor brother! He was an honest -man.”</p> - -<p>“You bet he was. We all knew him, and he -was white, he was.”</p> - -<p>Shoshone stopped in his oration, saying: “Go -back to the tent, girl. Some of the boys are going -to get busy.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean, Shoshone?”</p> - -<p>“Nothin’, Helen, nothin’. I didn’t mean for -you to go alone. I’ll go along.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Shoshone, I am growing to be a -coward.”</p> - -<p>They could not have gone more than fifty -yards from the box when Muriel came back that -way, looking behind her in terror, as she saw -her two enemies following her, so that she could -not escape. John approached her, saying:</p> - -<p>“What have you done with her? Where is -she, you traitor?”</p> - -<p>“I have set her free, you devil! and I’m ready<span class="pagenum">[185]</span> -to die for having done it!” said Muriel, no -longer seeking to escape, and folding her hands.</p> - -<p>“Then die!”</p> - -<p>Saying this, John fired point-blank at Muriel’s -heart, and she fell to the ground with a -cry, while John said to Dopey: “Come this -way! this way, quick!”</p> - -<p>At the sound of this shot, followed by a woman’s -cry, there was a rush of people, and among -them Helen, for, in her excited mind, she feared -for her child. As she approached, the men made -way for her, and she knelt by the side of the -dying woman, saying:</p> - -<p>“A woman, poor thing!”</p> - -<p>Then she started, saying, “You, you!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I; and is it possible that I am to die -in your arms—you whom I wronged so -deeply?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Muriel, if you die, it shall be in my -arms and with my pardon.”</p> - -<p>“You pardon me after all I’ve done to you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; freely and fully, but don’t think of -that. Can you pray?”</p> - -<p>“Not until I tell you who killed me! It was -John Pierson. The man I took away from you -has been your avenger.”</p> - -<p>“I want no revenge, Muriel. Vengeance is -not for us!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[186]</span></p> - -<p>The unfortunate woman gasped a few times, -and while Helen was praying for the passing -soul the light went out of Muriel’s eyes and she -was dead!</p> - -<p>“Hats off, boys; she is going over the range,” -Shoshone had said while Muriel was gasping her -last breaths. Helen covered the face, letting fall -pearly tears as she did so.</p> - -<p>While the moment was still tense there was a -scream from a woman, and Dora rushed to the -spot where the crowd had gathered, crying:</p> - -<p>“Save me! save me!” And she ran to Helen -as the only woman there.</p> - -<p>John and Dopey threw prudence to the winds -by pursuing her, and John drew his pistol, saying:</p> - -<p>“We have a fine round-up just now, everybody -together!” And he tried to seize Dora, -while her father, with his eyes of fire and his -hair flying in the wind, came rushing up.</p> - -<p>“I heard Dora! I heard her!” Then he leveled -his pistol at John, saying: “Move a muscle, -and I’ll kill you deat!”</p> - -<p>“Kill him, Dopey! I’m all right.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind him, pardner,” said Shoshone -to Morris. Then to John: “Your game is up, -and I have won, as the Deputy Marshal. Boys,” -he added, with a dread significance. They closed<span class="pagenum">[187]</span> -around the murderer and Dopey, who showed -more fight than John had, but then he did not -know quite so well the meaning of the deep silence -that had fallen upon them all.</p> - -<p>“Dora! Dora!” called the distracted father, -when there ran into his arms what he had supposed -was an Indian girl.</p> - -<p>“Papa, papa! and Bennie, too. Oh, how -glad I am! I don’t know how it all happened, -but we are together now.”</p> - -<p>Shoshone made a motion to Goldberg to take -them away, and, leading Dora by one hand and -Bennie by the other, they started to the tent.</p> - -<p>Helen sank down to the box, incapable of movement. -She knew what the sudden silence meant -and saw Dan take his lariat. She covered her -face with her hands and sat there for what she -thought a year. Then she felt her hand taken, -and looked up to see Shoshone standing there -and in his grave face she read the truth. Swift -justice had been meted out to the murderers for -their crimes!</p> - -<p>Helen was free; no, not quite free, for she -was now held close in Shoshone’s arms.</p> - -<p class="center p1">THE END.</p> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="xxlargefont center boldfont sansseriffont">GUS HILL’S ENTERPRISES.</p> - - -<p class="center largefont" style="line-height:1.3">AROUND THE CLOCK.<br> -IN GAY NEW YORK.<br> -McFADDEN’S ROW OF FLATS.<br> -IN CRUEL RUSSIA.<br> -THE SMART SET.<br> -HAPPY HOOLIGAN.<br> -THE CRACKER JACKS.<br> -THE NIGHT OWLS.<br> -VANITY FAIR.<br> -and<br> -<span class="allsmcap">IN</span> THE SHOEMAKER.</p> - -<p class="center p2 largefont" style="line-height:1.5"><span class="xlargefont">GUS HILL,</span><br> -1358 Broadway, <span style="padding-left:1em; padding-right:1em">::</span> New York.<br> -CHAS. E. BARTON, General Manager. -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center xxlargefont sansseriffont boldfont">A $2.00 Book for 25 Cents!</p> - -<p class="center xlargefont boldfont">Old Secrets and New Discoveries.</p> - -<p>Containing Information of Rare Value for all Classes, in all Conditions of Society.</p> - -<div class="figleft illowp55" style="max-width: 23.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i200.jpg" alt="Two talkers."> -</div> - -<p><b>It Tells</b> all about <em>Electrical Psychology</em>, -showing how you -can biologize any person, -and, while under the influence, -he will do anything -you may wish him no matter -how ridiculous it may -be, and he cannot help -doing it.</p> - -<p><b>It Tells</b> how to <em>Mesmerize</em>. Knowing -this, you can place any -person in a mesmeric -sleep, and then be able to -do with him as you will. -This secret has been sold -over and over again for -$10.</p> - -<p><b>It Tells</b> how to make persons at -a distance think of you—Something -all lovers -should know.</p> - -<p><b>It Tells</b> how you can charm those you meet and make them love you, whether they -will or not.</p> - -<p><b>It Tells</b> how Spiritualists and others can make writing appear on the arm in blood -characters, as performed by Foster and all noted magicians.</p> - -<p><b>It Tells</b> how to make a cheap Galvanic Battery; how to plate and gild without a -battery; how to make a candle burn all night; how to make a clock for 25 -cents; how to detect counterfeit money; how to banish and prevent mosquitoes -from biting; how to make yellow batter in winter; Circassian -curling fluid; Sympathetic or Secret Writing Ink; Cologne Water; Artificial -Honey; Stammering; how to make large noses small; to cure drunkenness; -to copy letters without a press; to obtain fresh-blown flowers in -winter; to make good burning candles from lard.</p> - -<p><b>It Tells</b> how to make a horse appear as though he was badly foundered; to make -a horse temporarily lame; how to make him stand by his food and not eat -it; how to cure a horse from the crib or sucking wind; how to put a young -countenance on the horse; how to cover up the heaves; how to make him -appear as if he had the glanders; how to make a true-pulling horse balk; -how to nerve a horse that is lame, etc., etc. These horse secrets are being -continually sold at one dollar each.</p> - -<p><b>It Tells</b> how to make the Eggs of Pharo’s Serpents, from which, when lighted, -though but the size of a pea, there issues from it a coiling, hissing serpent, -wonderful in length and similarity to a genuine serpent.</p> - -<p><b>It Tells</b> how to make gold and silver from block tin. Also how to make impressions -from coins. Also how to imitate gold and silver.</p> - -<p><b>It Tells</b> of a simple and ingenious method for copying any kind of drawing or picture. -Also more wonderful still, how to print pictures from the print itself.</p> - -<p><b>It Tells</b> how to perform the Davenport Brothers’ “Spirit Mysteries,” so that any -person can astonish an audience, as they have done. Also scores of other -wonderful things of which we have no room to mention.</p> - -<p><span class="boldfont">OLD SECRETS AND NEW DISCOVERIES</span> is worth $2.00 to any person; -but it will be mailed to any address on receipt of only 25 cents. Postage stamps -taken in payment for it the same as cash. Address</p> - -<p class="center boldfont pminus1"><span class="largefont">J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,</span><br> -Box 767, <span style="padding-left:2em">57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.</span> -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="boxit"> -<p class="center boldfont sansseriffont xxlargefont"><em>MRS. WINSLOW’S<br> -<span style="padding-right:2em">Soothing</span><br> -<span style="padding-left:2em">Syrup</span></em></p> - -<p class="center xlargefont boldfont sansseriffont"><em>FOR CHILDREN -TEETHING.</em></p> - -<p>Greatly facilitates the process of teething by softening -the gums and reducing all inflammation. Will -allay <span class="sansseriffont"><em><b>all pain</b></em></span> and spasmodic action, and is</p> - -<p class="center boldfont xlargefont sansseriffont pminus1"><em><b>Sure to Regulate the Bowels.</b></em></p> - -<p>Depend upon it, mothers, it will give rest to yourselves and</p> - -<p class="center boldfont sansseriffont xlargefont"><em><b>Relief and Health to your Infants.</b></em></p> - -<p>We have put up and sold this article for over sixty years, and can say in confidence -and truth of it what we have never been able to say of any other medicine: -never has it failed in a single instance to effect a cure when timely used. -Never did we know an instance of dissatisfaction by any one who used it. On -the contrary, all are delighted with its operations, and speak in terms of highest -commendation of its magical effects and <em><b>medical virtues</b></em>. We -speak in this matter “what we do know” after years of experience, and pledge -our reputation for the fulfillment of what we here declare. In almost every instance, -where the infant is suffering from pain and exhaustion, relief will be -found in fifteen or twenty minutes after the syrup is administered.</p> - -<p>This valuable preparation has been <em><b>used with never-failing -success in thousands of cases</b></em>. It not only relieves the child -from pain, but</p> - -<p class="center boldfont sansseriffont xlargefont"><em><b>Invigorates the Stomach and Bowels.</b></em></p> - -<p>MRS. WINSLOW’S SOOTHING SYRUP corrects acidity and gives -tone and energy to the whole system. It will almost instantly relieve griping -in the bowels and wind colic. We believe it <em><b>the best and surest -remedy</b></em> in the world in all cases of</p> - -<p class="center boldfont sansseriffont xlargefont"><em><b>Diarrhœa in Children</b></em>,</p> - -<p>whether arising from teething or any other cause.</p> - -<p>We would say to every mother who has a child suffering from any of the -foregoing complaints, do not let your prejudices, nor the prejudices of others, -stand between your suffering child and the relief that will be sure—yes, absolutely -sure—to follow the use of this medicine if timely used. Full directions -for using will accompany each bottle. <span class="smcap">Twenty-five Cents a Bottle.</span></p> - -<p class="sansseriffont"><em><b>None genuine unless the fac-simile of CURTIS & -PERKINS, New York, is on the outside wrapper. Sold -by Druggists throughout the world.</b></em></p> - -<p><span class="xlargefont sansseriffont"><em><b>MOTHERS</b></em></span> will find MRS. WINSLOW’S SOOTHING -SYRUP the Best Remedy to use -for their children <span class="sansseriffont"><em><b>during the Teething period</b></em>.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class="center">Guaranteed under the Food and Drugs Act. June 30, 1906. Serial No. 1098</p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center xxlargefont boldfont">OUR<br> -ENDEAVOR</p> - -<div class="figleft illowp45" style="max-width: 18.125em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i202.jpg" alt="Two lovers."> -</div> - -<p>in selling books to you, is to -have you feel that you are getting -<span class="boldfont"><em>your money’s worth</em>.</span> -We therefore desire to call your -special attention to the following</p> - -<p class="xlargefont boldfont">Four Books in -ONE,</p> - -<p class="displayinline"><span style="position:relative; top:-1.1em;padding-right:1em">which</span> -<span class="xxlargefont boldfont" style="font-size:400%"><b>If</b></span></p> - -<p class="largefont boldfont displayinline" style="margin-left:1em">You are Courting,<br> -If You want to Court, or<br> -If You want to be Courted, -</p> - -<p>you should obtain at the earliest possible moment.</p> - -<p><em><b>HOW TO WOO; WHEN AND WHOM</b></em>, which gives -full and interesting rules for the etiquette of courtship, -the time and place for conducting the same, and some -good advice as to the selection of your partner for life.</p> - -<p><em><b>COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE</b></em>, which tells how to -win the favor of the ladies, how to begin and end a courtship, -and how to “Pop the Question,” and also gives full -information in regard to the invitations, gifts, ushers, -bridesmaids, conduct of the wedding ceremony, etc., etc.</p> - -<p><em><b>THE LOVERS’ COMPANION</b></em>, which gives the flirtations -of the handkerchief, parasol, glove, fan and napkin: -also, the language of flowers; how to kiss deliciously; and -a cure for bashfulness.</p> - -<p><em><b>THE POPULAR LETTER WRITER</b></em>, which tells how -to write business, social, and love letters, giving numerous -examples of all.</p> - -<p>This valuable work containing the <em>four books above -mentioned</em>, is issued in one volume under the title <b>HOW -TO WOO</b>, and it will be sent to any address, postpaid, upon -receipt of 25 cents in postage stamps or money. Address</p> - -<p class="center"><b><span class="largefont">J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,</span><br> -<span style="padding-left:15em">57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.</span></b> -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center xlargefont sansseriffont boldfont">POPULAR NOVELS WRITTEN FROM PLAYS.</p> - -<p class="center largefont boldfont">SEASON OF 1907-1908.</p> - -<p>We desire to call your attention to the following list of -novels written from the Popular Plays, which are being presented -in various parts of the country. They contain about -200 pages each, with illustrations from the Play, and are -bound in handsome paper cover printed in five colors.</p> - -<p class="center largefont boldfont">PRICE, 25 CENTS EACH.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<table class="toc" style="border:0em; padding:0em; border-spacing:0em"> -<tr><td class="tblc">DION O’DARE</td><td class="tbra">By Charles E. Blaney</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">THE BOY DETECTIVE</td><td class="tbra">By Charles E. Blaney</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">BILLY THE KID</td><td class="tbra">By Arda LaCroix</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">JOSIE, THE LITTLE MADCAP</td><td class="tbra">By Charles E. Blaney</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">FIGHTING BILL, <span class="smcap">Sheriff of Silver Creek</span></td><td class="tbra">By O. Harper</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">BROADWAY AFTER DARK</td><td class="tbra">By Grace Miller White</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">CONVICT 999</td><td class="tbra">By Grace Miller White</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">EDNA, THE PRETTY TYPEWRITER</td><td class="tbra">By Grace M. White</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">SINCE NELLIE WENT AWAY</td><td class="tbra">By Grace Miller White</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">A CHORUS GIRL’S LUCK IN NEW YORK</td><td class="tbra">By White</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">THE KING AND QUEEN OF GAMBLERS</td><td class="tbra">By White</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">THE GREAT EXPRESS ROBBERY</td><td class="tbra">By Grace M. White</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">A RACE ACROSS THE CONTINENT</td><td class="tbra">By Grace M. White</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">LOTTIE, THE POOR SALESLADY</td><td class="tbra">By Charles E. Blaney</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">HIS TERRIBLE SECRET</td><td class="tbra">By Charles E. Blaney</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">THE HIRED GIRL’S MILLIONS</td><td class="tbra">By Charles E. Blaney</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">FROM SING SING TO LIBERTY</td><td class="tbra">By Harry Clay Blaney</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">THE DANCER AND THE KING</td><td class="tbra">By Charles E. Blaney</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">A MARKED WOMAN</td><td class="tbra">By Grace Miller White</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">THE QUEEN OF THE COWBOYS</td><td class="tbra">By Grace Miller White</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">PARTED ON HER BRIDAL TOUR</td><td class="tbra">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">JOE WELCH THE SHOEMAKER</td><td class="tbra">By Olive Harper</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">KIDNAPPED FOR REVENGE</td><td class="tbra">By Blaney and Vedder</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">NELLIE, THE BEAUTIFUL CLOAK MODEL</td><td class="tbra">By White</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">FROM TRAMP TO MILLIONAIRE</td><td class="tbra">By Grace Miller White</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">SECRETS OF THE POLICE</td><td class="tbra">By Grace Miller White</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">RULED OFF THE TURF</td><td class="tbra">By Grace Miller White</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">THE BURGLAR AND THE LADY</td><td class="tbra">By Olive Harper</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">A MILLIONAIRE’S REVENGE</td><td class="tbra">By Olive Harper</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">THE GIRL RAFFLES</td><td class="tbra">By Charles E. Blaney</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">BERTHA, THE SEWING MACHINE GIRL</td><td class="tbra">By O. Harper</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">A CHILD OF THE REGIMENT</td><td class="tbra">By Charles E. Blaney</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">THE GAMBLER OF THE WEST</td><td class="tbra">By Olive Harper</td></tr> -</table></div> - -<p>The above books are for sale by Newsdealers and Booksellers -everywhere, or they will be sent by mail, postpaid, to -any address for 25 cents each, or any five books for $1.00. -Address all orders to</p> - -<p class="center largefont boldfont">J. S. 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