Aiken’s Great Story,

 

 

 

 

 

 

Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1875, by BEADLE AND Anus, in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

    

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V01. VI. . Eight. }Pvnnmnzns.

NEW YORK, APRIL 3, 1875.

One copy, four months, “.00.

TERMS IN ADVANCE{ 0110 copy. one you, - - . 3.00-  2 
Two copies, one year, . . 5.00. 0 o

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kit slackened the pace of his horse a little on the crest of th

 

 

 

 

 

 

OVERLnyD KIT;

THE IDYL OF

W HITE PINE.

 

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN,
Author oi “Witches of New York,” “Wolf Demon,” “White Witch,” etc.

 

CHAPTER I.
run ROAD—AGENTS.

JUST as the full, round moon rose above
the rocky peaks that hemmed in the Reese
river, and cast her broad, bright beam down
upon the little road that ran by the side of the
stream, bathing hill, valley and rolling water
in a flood of silvery light, the overland coach,
from Austen, bound for lone, rolled up to?
Kennedy’s Ranche.

The driver descended from the box, bawled
out “supper,” and the passengers commenced
to alight from the coach.

Down from the box, from his seat by the
driver’s side, came a stout, muscular Irishman,
ripen whose honest and good-humored face was
a broad grin, caused by the pleasant announce-
ment of the dinner. Hewas called Patsey,
Doolin. From the interior of the Concord,
coach came a portly man, with a grave, staid
face, lit up by large gray eyes and fringed by
iron-gray hair. “ Judge” Ephraim Jones was
one of the principal citizens of the mining
camp, known as Spur City, that lay twonty
miles beyond Kennedy’s Ranche, and was the
Kent stopping'place of the coach. ‘

Kennedy, the proprietor of * the ‘Ranche,,

‘ ‘ the J ' very one called the
merchant “Judge,” although the only reason
for the title was his grave and stately manner:
+with great respect. _ f
- After the Judge, came an elderly, white:
haired man,- with a“ fat, unctious face,
wherein twinkleditwo sharp little blue eyes.
In form he was portly and commanding. An
air of intense respectability sat upon him:
He was evidently a man well to do in the,
world, and one Who‘fully understood what
good living meant. _ This well—preserved old
gentleman was from New York city, and Wes
known as Salmon Rennetéby profession a
lawyer, and reputed to be one of the keencst
in all Gotham. - ‘

, lawyer turned to the coach,

 

After descending to the ground, the old
and gallantly
assisted a lady Ont.

A young and beautiful girl, some two and
twenty years of age. . In figure, she was tall
and straight, exquisitely proportioned, the
rounded outlines of her form giving fair prom-
ise of a glorious womanhood. Her face oval;
its complexion, the rich creamy hueof new
milk, and the'blush of the crimson rose-leaf
blended; eyes, dark—blue, rich and lustrous in
their light; her hair, the golden brown that
seems to woo the sunbeams. She was called
Bernice Gwyne. She Was a wealthy heiress;
orphaned, and the old lawyer acted as a sort
of protector to her.

A strange motive brought the fair young
girl and the astute, comfort-loving old lawyer
to the wild mining region, known as White
Pine. ‘

i A few words will explain.

Twenty years before the time at which our
story commences, two brothers were doing
business together in New Yorkv—two men of

Irish descent, Patrick and Daniel Gwyne:

Daniel was the father of Bernice. He died
while she was ,but an infant. Bernice was
taken in charge by her uncle, Patrick, who
reared her as carefully as if she had‘been his
own child; Patrick Gwyne had but a single
scion-23. son, some ten years older than Ber-
nicehnamed Patrick, after himself. ”

Patrick, the father, was a steady, sober man
of business; Patrick, the son, was a wild,
reckless youth; all the fire of the, old éIrish,
blood was in his veins and swayed all his
actions. -' ’

Vainly his father remonstrated with him
upon his wayward course.f ’ ‘

The blow that the anxious sire expected,
came at last. i In a drunken quarrel, in a
gaming-house, young Patrick Gwyne stabbed
one of his cempanions to the heart.

The blow really was struck in self-defense,

but the curse of Cain was upon the forehead of
the reckless youth, and he fled in haste from
the city where he had first seen the light.

Hot pursuit was given, for the dead youth
came of a wealthy family, who burned to
avenge his death; but, in the Far West, amid
the pine-clad Sierras, where the golden mass
lies deep hid in the rocky “pocket,” and veins
of silver streak the quartz, the fugitive found

_ shelter and bid defiance to pursuit.

Time, that in its flight brings forgetfulness
in its train, covered young Patrick Gwyne and
his crime from sight with the dark waters of
oblivion.

The stern father, like the Roman parent of
ancient time, cursed the son who had dishom
cred his race. He forbade the mention of his
name within the household. The grave and
silent man strove, in Bernice’s love, to forget
that he had once had a son.

Six months before the time that our story
opens, old Patrick Gwyne died, leaving all
his property to his niece, Bernice. The out—
cast son was not even mentioned in his will;
though it was true that no one knew whether
he was alive or dead, for, since the time of
his flight from New York, ten years before,
not a single word regarding him had ever been
received. ‘

Bernice waited until the estate was all set-
tled up, and then coolly announced to Mr. Sal~
mon Rennet~who, as the legal adviser of her
deceased uncle, had charge of his affairs—that
it was her'intention to go to the Far West and
discover whether her cousin. Patrick, was alive
or dead, before she , would touch one single
penny of her uncle’s money. Bernice had
quite a little fortune of - her own, inherited
from her father.

The lawyer remonstrated, but in vain; the
mind of the girl was fixed, and words could
not turn her from her purpose.

She declared that‘she felt sure that her cou~
sin was still-living, and she would not touch
the moneythat belonged by rights to him.

This determination puzzled the old lawyer
greatly. He had little idea of the reason that
impelled the girl to act as she did.

Bernice, the child of twelve years, had loved
her cousin, the youth of twenty; loved him asa
Child, but,~as she grew to Womanhood, she kept
his memory green in her heart. Every night
before she closed her eyes in sleep, his hand-
some, manly face floated before her eyes.

 

This love it was, deep down in her heart, a
perpetual well-spring of joy, that caused her

 

to reject the suitors who had tried to win her
smiles. It was this childish affection, strength—
ened by years into womanly love, which had
brought her two thousand miles or more to
seek the man Who, for one wild act of passion,
when the maddening fumes of liquor had fired
his brain to frenzy, had been compelled to fly
from civilized life and find a. refuge amid the
canons of the Far Western Sierras, the haunts
of the wolf, the red Indian, and the crime-
stajned white outcast.

At Bernice’s urgent entreaty, the old lawyer
had consented to accompany her on what he,
not inaptly, termed a wild-goose chase.

The great silver discoveries had just been
made in the White Pine region, as the old law-
yer and the young girl set out on their mis—
sion. All California was rushinglthere, and,
thinking if Patrick Gwyne lived, he might be
attracted there, too, the lawyer headed his
course in that direction. There was also an—
other motive; Rennet had a son who had been
in business in San Francisco, failed there, and
had located in Spur City, the point to which
the lawyer was now conducting Bernice.

The crafty and keen-witted old gentleman
had formed a little scheme in which he needed
his son’s assistance.

Rennet had not the slightest hope of finding
any trace of the outcast, for whom Bernice
was in search, but he had made up his mind to
turn this Western trip to serve his own pur-
pose. What that was, our story will tell.

Judge Jones, the Irishman, Mr. Rennet and
Bernice, were all the passengers that journey-
ed in the coach.

“ Come, hurry up your cakes, old hose,”
cried the driver of the coach to Kennedy, the
rancheman. The driver was called Ginger
Bill, on account of his flowing red locks and
beard. r

In the mining districts few popular men but
have some designation attached to their own
proper name.

“ Oh I ain’t got time to ta ,
I a ’t got time to wait, 01 hose!”

Billy song at the top of his voice, cracking his
long whip in the air.

“ What’s your hurry?” asked Kennedy.

“Why, I want for to slap this coach inter
Spur City afore twelve, you bet! I want to
git a chance to shake a leg at the Eldorado
afore I turn in.” _

" Rock back Davy cuttin’ up a shine,
Gal with the red ha’r kickm’ up ahind !"
“ Supper ’ll be ready in a minute. Didn’t

 

 

 

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a hill, turned his head and looked back, as if to laugh in defiance at his pursuers.

expect you so soon. You’re ahead of time to-
night.”

“ I’m jist old lightnin’ now, furst thing you
know! ’Sides, I wanted for to make here
’fore dark. The road ’tween here an’ Jacob-
ville ain’t all hunky, arter sundown, since
Overland Kit’s taken to lookin’ arter it,” Bill
said, significantly.

“ Overland Kit? Who’s he?” asked the law-
yer, who was standing near by, With Bernice
on his arm.

“ Guess you’re a stranger round hyer, ain’t
yer?” the driver asked.

“ Yes, I am; but who is this man?”

“I’ll never tell yer, as we used for to say in
old Kentuck’; you’re too much for me, stran-
ger,” Bill answered.

“You see, he’s a road-agent,” Kennedy add-
ed.

“Begorral they need somebody to be after
luckin’ to the road. Divil such a mane way I
iver see’d afore!” exclaimed the Irishman, in
disgust. “I don’t know whether I’m inside
or out, anyway.”

All laughed at the indignation of the Irish-
man.

“What is the meaning of the term road-
agent?” asked the lawyer, who guessed at once
that the name had some peculiar signification
attached to it.

“ Oh, they’re a'polite set of gents, who stop
the overland coaches, an’ in order that the
poor bosses sha’n’t have too much to draw, they
kindly relieves the galoots inside of any gold-
dust, silver bricks, or any valuables of that
sort, that they may happen to have along with
’em,” the driver explained. \

“Robbers, in plainer words,” Judge Jones
said. '

“Why the divil don’t you fight the rappe-
reesl” questioned Doolin. '

“ The company pays me for to drive the
coach, not for to fight,” replied Bill, coolly;
“that’s extra, and ain’t included in the bar-
gain. ”

“But this Overland Kit?”

“The leader of the most awful, cussed set
of road-agents that I ever’heered tell on,” said
Kennedy, the ranche—keeper.

“ What is he like?" Rennet asked.

“ A good-sized fellow with his face kivered
with a black mask, and all on his face that
ain’t bid by the mask, a big black beard covers.
He rides a big brown hose with four white feet
and a blaze in the forehead; thar ain’t any-
thing on four legs in the shape of hossflesh in -