r :53 WA H W V/é E \» . \ ~ , E x g ‘ E. \\\ v 0 9&3 ‘ \g ‘ ‘ \ \ \ - ' I. _ ' ' \\‘\ fig . r ' ‘" I.“ “Q I“ _ _ _ _ $493k“ A w I @- >___.__._v\\\§ \ _ _| lhl IEHHHIH 732.50 a year. EnterOd at the Post Office at. New York, N. Y... at Secom} 5311-1133341}: Rates. Copyrjgfnt, E883, by BEADLE AND ADAMS: U _N_Iny 15. 1883. 5' le PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price. VOL Num er. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents- No' ’LiZA JANE, THE GIRLMINER; or,THE IRON-NERVE!) SPORT. BY EDWARE L. WHEELER, AUTHOR or “ DEADWOOD DICK ” NOVELS, “ROSEBUD ROB” NOVELS, “DENVER DOLL" NOVELS, ma, ETC. \‘. ‘u. :1 ‘ ‘2 “. \‘ 'M' “‘I ‘\ ‘ V 1': “STOP YER BOSS! STOP YER BOSS, JANE, OR SAM WILL BE KILLED,“ SEVERAL OF THE SCORPION’S CRONIES YELLED. ,4 '." 4 L . I. i" .3 . ‘ . r g , ' 1‘». ‘ ’ I ( Liza, Jane, ages; Miner. . . , Liza J ans,- , I ,THE GIRL MINER; ‘ on. i, , l The Iron-Nerved Sport. Z‘ I '_ ‘ BY E. L. WHEELER, AUTHOR or “DEADWOOD DICK" NOVELS, “ some :1». DUI) aoa” NOVELS, “DENVER DOLL " NOVELS, ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. THE PERI or THE ounce PARADISE. “G'LANG, Mehetible, you lazy beast, or we’ll not at to our journey’s end, to-day. Consarn Iv \ you, have yer switchin’. There ain’t a fly ' ‘ near ye. Heigh ho! “ ' On the other side 0‘ Jordan, In the sweet fields Of—‘ “Jerusalem! Can it be possible?” . The lone traveler reined in his burro, with Very little effort, for it was by no means a fiery, 7, x ‘ untamed beast, and sat staring ahead of him. The course of his journey lay throu h a nar- row gulch, walled in at the right an left by precipitous hights, upon which clung only an occasional shrub or tuft of vegetation. A gurgling little stream ran down the gulch, irequently crossing the seldom-traveled mule- rail. For miles the traveler had toiled on through this gulch, without encountering a sign of human habitation—nor, did game Of any kind seem to infest the district, which a disastrous fire had evidently swept through some time in the past, for the towering hights and hills pre- sented a black, smoked appearance, which de- tracted much from their grandeur. It was just after rounding an abrupt bend in thegulch, that the man and his steed came to a _ ’ halt, and the cause of the wayfarer’s surprise ' was readily apparent. = ' After rounding the bend, the gulch continued . on its sinuous course, while to the right of the - trail, a dark, narrow glen branched abruptly ofl‘, 25d penetrated a short distance into the moun- ms. Facing the mule-trail, at the mouth of this glen, stood a small but strong cabin, with a ve- randa in front. A chair was plaCed upon this veranda; a hammock was swung in under the i shade ot a large tree, whose limbs reached out to the cabin roof; a bed of flowers bloomed just beside the path leading from the trail to the It was a pretty and picturesque spot, and there was something so refreshing about the fact, to travel—stained Parson Priggins, that he was excusable for drawing rein in surprise. He saw more than we have described, too—a system of sluice-boxes, that had the' beginning somewhere u in the glen, and ru ning down ' t the cabin, emptied their muddy waters me the little gulch streamlet: he saw a young :‘ and retty girl near the shunt , engaged in shove ing a small has of dirt nto one of the sluice-ways, and wor 'ng the “cradle” in a very business-like manner, as if she were no less than a time-tried veteran at the profession of gold-mining. ' Parson Priggins was only thirty, good-look- ing, after a meek fashion, unmarried, fairly educated, and had a snug little “ nest egg ” in the wallet which he invariably carried in his *inside vest pocket. , '. Therefore, no wonder his heart beat a little faster, as his game wandered from the cosey cabin to the cosier ' at the cradle. . She was, possmly. nineteen years of age, though her fresh face looked even younger; she was a trifle below the medium stature of women, but perfectly molded in flzure. . Her face was markedly pretty, and wore the confident expression of a brave soul, as also did her brown eyes, and small but resolute mouth; her hair was between a brown and an auburn shaidfi, and fell in delightful confusion. to her we 5 . - She was dressed in a homespun waist and. shut, the latter not reaching quite to the shape- ly.ankles; her feet were incased in a dainty 8:11- of leather-top boots; a broad-rim slouc t was set back upon her head, and a belt about her waist contained a pair of gold-mounted re~ volvers. a , . , , . This much saw Parson Pri' gins, without be- ‘ -- ing seen by the dashing Gir Miner;..theu, his .g. ittle piece of femininity working curiosity tin the better of him, he urged the burro war this paradise of the gulch. ' “G’lang, Mehetible, ou beast! At last, it appears, wehave reac ed the boundaries of c vilization.” The footfalls of the animal soon reach the girl’s hearing, and she hastily seized a rifle which was leaning against a bowlder, but lai it down ain, when she noted the ministerial aspect of t e new-comer. ‘ No tough, thar!” she r‘ommended. “ Looks nail; he might hev jest feh out of a camp-meet- 1n ' And a moment later, Prisgins drew rein, and dofled his beaver, in true Chesterfieldian style. “ GOOd-afternoon, sis!” he saluted. “ Howdy do, sonny!” the Girl Miner retorted. “ Does yer mother know you’re out, pray ?” “ Quite well, miss,” the parson re lied, see- ing that “ sis ” did not strike the girl avorably, “or at least the old folks ought to know, since I’m two months gone from Montpelier.” “ Oh! you’re from the East?” “ I am, and am proud to say it. I hope I do not look like the rough Western characters I’ve met, so far?” 7 “ Oh! no. You’re just too sweet for anything. Where you oing?” “To uncle s, an’ no further. Dunno how fur that is, I suppose? Nor I, nuther. Reckon it’s a good piece on yet. What’s yer name? Mine’s Jim Priggins.” . “And mine is ’Liza Jane?” “’Liza Jane! Jerusalem! I us’ter court old Gilroy’s gal, who was called ’Liza Jane. What’s yer other name?” ' “ Give it up!” “ Ye did? That’s queer! Whar’s the old folks —don’t see any of ’em about?” “ Good reason. .Thar ain’t none.” “ Phewl Ye don’t mean to say ye live all alone, hyer, by yerself, in this lonesome coun- t t “ That’s the case.” “ Shel You must be nervy, of I do say it.” s I as . ... d e gir spo e in a ry, g -nature way, that seemed habitual with her. “ Guess you’re a preacher, ain’t ye?” she added, a twinkle in her eye. v “ Why?” and Priggins stared. “ Oh! I suspected so. You don’t sw’ar!” “Great guns! Is that how ye tell? Why, up at Snodgrass Corners, nobody swears.” “ All preachers, eh i” “ No, but they all knows the commandments. Ye see my father aire deacon o’ the church, an’ be got me to study up ministry.” ‘ Well, how did ou make out?” “Purty Well. e see I got along well, till I tackled preachin’, fer I us’ter do the marryin’ up brown. But one day suthin’ happened, an’ dad said I better take a vacation fer awhile.” “ Indeed.” “ Yes; on see old man Byles wanted his son Jack to o the preachin’, ’cause the collection wasn’t no small penn of a Sunday. But it made Byles awful ma when I stepped in. he us’tcr try to annoy me, an’ one day he set up some 0’ the members to go to sleep an’ snore, while I was reachin’. I stood it awhile, an’ then I told By es if he didn’t uit, I’d come down an’ punch his warty nose._ 9 wiggled his car at me an’ lafled; then I mounted him, an’ throwed him out the winder, inter Garrick’s sheep-pas- ture, where the ugly ram went fer him, an’ when Byles got hum, he couldn’t set down fer a week. So, as tar-an’-feathers were plenty_at the Corners, I tho’t I’d come out and v1s1t uncle.” “ Think of preachin’ out here?” “Not till I git acquainted. Know w! r uncle lives?” ' “ What’s his handle?” “His handle?” “Yes; his name.” “Oh! Why, he us’ter be Hank Wetherill, , but I’ve hearn tell as how he’s got cunnel fixed to his name now.” “Ha! ha! I know where Colonel Wetherill lives” and ’Liza Jane’s eyes flashed and her chee flushed. “He’s a stuck-up aris t, as lives on a ranch, jest out o’ Pokerville.” “ You don’t tell? Know him, then?” “ I know all I want to of him. He’s a regular cuss fer meanness, an’ nobody likes him, they a '7’ x Where is Pokerville?” “ Down below, where the gob comes out on e me. e co 0 8p 09 yo 9 a: bo’tto Th lnel’ isbe with cam . l “,V ice place?” I ' “Scrumptious!” f And Pokervillei” \,-. i “ The hardest hole of its size, along the range, you bet. If you’ve got lots of wealth to part with, go there.” , “ Not much! I want yer to guide me to uncle’s. I’ll pay ye wages for it. ” “You’ll have to excuse me. I do not care to go there.” “Git outl Ef ye go with Jim Priggins, it will be all right.” The girl eyed him steadily. “You’re all right,” she said, “but if I was you. I wouldn’t go there 1” “ Thun— I mean Jerusale . Why not?” “You don’t know ’em. hey’re a stiff lot. Like as not you’d get snubbed!” The young person’s eyes snapped. “Kinder look meek an’ preacher-fled is wh ye think I’ll take snubbin’s, eh?” he sai “ Well, all right. Ye don’t know me.” “ Maybe not. But, if I were you, I’d wait till to-morrow.” H :3” “Because, there’s goin’ to be a wedding at the Elms to-night—a bang-up, high-toned at- fair, too, which will be attended by folks from the army, from Washington, an’ blazes knows where—regular freeze-ye-u stifl? nobs, ye see, in silks an’ broadcloth. hat’s why I allow maybe a country cousin wouldn’t be welcome.” Priggins was silent a moment. His eyes were riveted upon the ground, and the peculiar expression on his face was not easy to interpret. “ I understand what you mean?” he said, “ but I don’t keer a durned ef I’m welcome or not. I walks right in, ye see, an’ ’twixt you an’ I, Henry Wetherill dassen’t turn me out.” “Indeed? He is a man who seldom attempts a thing without doing it.” . “ That’s all right. Who’s to git spliced?” “ Theo!” . “ Is she a nice ’un?” “ She is retty—in a stony Way—self-con- ceited, haug ty and disagreeany arrogant.” “ You two don’t hitch. ’ “No. As the tiger hates the lion, so the Wetherills hate me. “'Wh '5” “ I do not feel disposed to tell.” “Secret, eh? Who’s the gel going to marry!” " A Californian, Clinton Carmen, by name.” “ Who is going to marry them!” ‘ “ ’Squire Hines, of Pokerville.” “ Humph! Well, I guess you and I will take in that splicin’ - bee, Miss ’Liza Jane, so get ready!” . He spoke as though it were a settled affair, and slid out of the saddle to let Mehetibel drink from one. of the sluice-boxos, the water now runnin clear. “ Sir,” the Girl Miner said, “ I told you I could not 0.” “ by not, pray?” “ For different reasons. “ I’ll fix that. I want you to go, to show me the wa .” . \ bhe was silent a few moments, her eyes wan- dering toward the sun, which was nearing the horizon, but finally spoke: “ Mr. Priggins we are stran era. but I believe you to be a gentlemen, and will consent to accompany you, on conditions.” “ Name them,” he said quietly. “ Very well. Firstly, I have a morbid curi- osity to explore the Wetherill mansion, and if I go with you, I propose to do it while the cere- mony is taking place. In this action I shall ex- pect on will not give me away.” “I is settled. Go on.” “The second condition is, that you perform the marriage ceremony!” ’Liza Jane said, em— phatically. He looked at her in surprise that he made no attem t to disguise. “ by do you wish that?” he demanded. “I decline to answer, sir.” . “ Well, it’s all the same, an _hOw. It IS settled that if Theo Wetherill gits sp_ 108d, I’m gom’ to do the job. So everything being settled, let’s be ofl as soon as possib e.” “No b . They’re not to be married till eight or later, and it is but a short ride from here. I do not care to be seen in the vicinity until after dark. Let your horse graze, and we’ll have tea l” She gathered u a pouch which contained the gold she had was ed out that day, and led the way; to the cabin. ’ I would not be wel- ithin everything was in the rude style of ,, the minis: but neatness prevailed everywhere. Jim ' égins could but, admit that even at . home, there was no more cheery evidence of a home than within the Girl Miner’s abode. ‘ / ..‘ I__,_ ____.. 4"-,.l‘,,/ 'I 1 u. * - » w . ,’ - V, .2. r, . . - . , I_ I h. .\ , I’ , . ’Liza Jane, the Girl Miner. ’Liza Jane hustled about, and soon had a tempting repast set forth, consisting of dried venison, bread, coffee and huckleberries, not to mention a dish of wild honey to take place of butter. _ . _ “ Thun— Jerusalem, I mean,” Priggins said, delightedly; “ this is ninety shades better’n any- thing I’ve struck for a fortnight, hanged it it ain’t. Wouldn’t mind puttin’ up heer, if ye don’t char tew much for board.” “ don’t run a hotel,” ’Liza Jane replied, smil- ingly, “and, accordingly, could not accommo- date you.” “You’re a queer ’un. bother ye?” “ Not often. If they do I generally plants ’em. See that knoll across the gulch hat’s my cemetery. Got two lnjuns an’ one tough planted there. Folks fight kinder sh o’ hyer, ’cause Dragon Gulch is haunted, ’you now. ’ ""Ihun— Jerusalem! What “” “I remarked that this gulch aire haunted!” ’Liza Jane answered, soberl y. “ Haunted? By ghosts?” . _ “ Yes. Did you eVer see the picture of a dragon, such as us’ter promenade in former ages —the winged crocodile, with barbed tongue, eyes of fire and so forth?” “ Yas.” _ “Well, sucha monster haunts this gulch by night, at frequent periods. I suppose were diamonds strewn by bushels, hereabouts, no one would venture here. who knows of the dragon!” Priggins’s surprise had vanished; he seemed deeply interested. “ The dragon,” went on ’Liza Jane, “is a ter- ror to the surrounding country. It is as near the size of a burro as anything else, but has the ap~ pearance of a crocodile with wings. Its legs are longer, however, and thicker, and covered with scales. Its eyes seem to be balls of flame, and with fire leaping from its open mouth, it rushes by with terrific speed, bearing on its back, a human figure, clad in ghostly white. The rider’s face is deathly white, as is its beard and streaming hair, and this thing, for it is nothing else, is known as Don Dragon.” PrSingns laughed. “ ou’ve seen it?” he asked. “Yes.” Then she unslung a field glass from her belt, and gave it to him. “ Watch the painted board across the gulch,” she commanded. Shethen drew a revolver, and fired the six shots it held. . _ “Thun— Jerusalem l” Priggins gas ed. “ Those bullets didn’t go a quarter 0 an inch apart. You’re a dead-shot.” _ “Then, Don Dragon is not mortal, for if I have fired at him and his steed once, 1 have fired a hundred times.” ‘6AUd_?" “ Wasted my ammunition. So has every man in/Pokervflle I reckon. But, come; I will call my horse, and we’ll be off. You may have an opportunity to see the dragon, to-night.” CHAPTER II. THUNDERBOLT ‘TAKES A HAND.’ ’LIZA JANE flung an oilskin cloak about her shoulders—for the heavens ofleredevidence of a. storm’s a proach—and, then, seizmg her rifle, she and Priggins left the cabin. “ Don’t ye ock up?” he asked, seeing that she left the door wide open. “ Hal hal’ no, Little fear any one will enter my palace, during my absence 1’ he then took a silver whistle from he' pocket, and blew a peculiar blast upon it, which was Don’t no one never direct] answered, for an unbridled and un- saddle horse came dashing down out of the gl en. It was a handsome snow -white, cleanlimbed and spirited creature, an Priggins could but look ruefully at his own serene burro, which was browsing near by. ’Liza Jane sprung nimbly to her steed’s back, as it paused near by her, taking no heed of Pris 'ns’s proffered assistance. “ ok out for yourself, parson. I can allus look out for ’Liza Jane,” she advised. “But, Jerusalem! ain’t ye goin’ ter put on no bridle an’ saddle, young lady?” - “ Naryl Thunderbolt wouldn’t hear one. We knows 29,11! P’s an’ Q’s, don’t we, beauty? Come, on And she was dashing away down the gulch, neatly 011’“ 3181117. are the person could get his sorry beast under way. The Girl Miner, however, finally waited for . him to come up, her eye dancing with mischief. “You’d do well to chase a road-agentr—that is,» far as the agent was interested,” the ' $19943 “Thun— I mean thar ain’t no road-agents in these parts?” he pulled, the ungainly canter of the bum-o having bounced him up a good deal. “Oh! you bet!” ’Liza assured. “They’re thicker’n fleas on a Denver dorg. Never was to Denver, eh? More dorgs thar than people. An’ road-agents? Why, we’ve got lots of ’em, around herel Some allus, ban -up fellers, tool Nigh every man in okerville as had expert enco at the busineSS.” “ Jerusalem! Ye ain’t goin’ that way?” “You bet! Want to stop at the post~ofiice, for aci ar.” . Pri gins looked horrified. - “ on don’t smoke?” he faintly articulated. “Bet I do! Have to, now an’ then, ’cause I’ve got to do suthin’ to keep my tongue still. Needn’t be afeared o’ PokerVille, tho’, when I’m around.” “Why not 5" “Oh! Pm me belle 0’ that town, an’ what I grin at the gang smiles at, or dra sl That’s where I got the dead-wood on. old BVetherill’s gal. She likes me enough to dig my 0 es out. She was soft soapin’ around old bal ~headed Bixby, who runs the Demijohn—wuth a mint, he is;-—-so I stepped in, cut her out, and then sacked old Bixl” “ Is it really a bad town, miss?” “Well, some, I reckon, tho’ thar hasn’t been a plantin’ fer over a week. Can ye shute?” “ l kin take the head oif’n a squirrel ,every time wi’ a shot-gun,” he answered confidently. “You’re the stuff, then! If a feller cums struttin’ along, wi’ revolvers stickin’ out 0’ his boot—legs, an’ luks cross-eyed at ye, as if he’d delight to make a meal 0’ you, don’t ye scare, but pull yer op an’ salivate him in the eye. Arier you pant yer furst man, all will be strai ht!” “ gut, that would be murderl” “Pshaw—no! That’s only counted adi n- sation 0’ Providence, up in these parts. i a man screws his mouth at you, it means he’s on the rampage, an’ at ye don’t plug him he’ll lay ye on yer back!” During the remainder of the 'ourney, Prig- gins was grimly silent, evidenty ruminating over the prospectus that ’Liza Jane, dare-devil that she was, had so coolly laid out for him to to subscribe to. About dusk they cantered down into Poker- ville, which was located in the mouth of the gulch, and looked out over a vast expanse of rolling prairie or bottom-lands, which stretched to the westward. Pokerville was practically a mining-camp of three-score of inhabitants, though it was, at the same time, a supply-station, and a herder’s_ or cowboy’s rendezvous, so that its population was made up of man grades of human beings —a heterogeneous mo of the rougher element of various races and nationalities, in which the roystering rough of the mines was most promi- nent. . Few well-disposed people liVed there, ale. thou h the surrounding country was fairly Well pOpu ated with a more estimable class of citi- zens. There was but one street, and all the shanties, cabins and tents faced u n this, the business part of the town being a ut the Demijohn, a combination of drinking-saloon and hotel, ke t by old Blood Bixby, the richest man in t e cam . Ac’i‘oss from the Demijohn was the grocery- store and post-office. adjoining which was Hem.- lock Harry’s gambling “palace,” known as the “Four Aces.” Then there were several other stores and saloons, and the dwellings, which made up the camp. . I ’Liza Jane had intimated to Priggins that Pokerville had been rather guiet, of late; never- theless there were plenty o ill-looking ruflians in front of the saloons, as the Girl Miner and the person centered down into the lace. _ ' As they neared the post-o ce, ’Liza Jane said: “ Now, then, look your bravest, Pri gsy. .old gal, and mind you don’t let any one 100 squint- eyed or ucker-mouthed at you. Have you got a shutin -iron’i‘” _ “No—nor do I want one 1” was the met re- ply, which ’Liza took as a hint that r. Png- gins considered himself solid, without deadly weapons. _ _ ' At the ost-ofiice they drew ram, and ’qua Jane left t e parson to mind‘the horses, while she ran in for the mail. . « She had hardly disappeared Within the_ ro- cery, when a burly-looking rough camestri ing down the street, with a confident swa er, and paused to stare at the person, as he ., . . . I . I . _ , , J. \‘,,‘ I I '- ‘~ ., l ,l.. 7.. ,f He possessedah bod.withlimbs,to match, and his red, ligated {ace was terribl scarred and wore a week’s growth of His whole appearance was brutal and disgmtc ing, and the revolvers he sported in his belt detracted nothing from his ferocious as t. “ Hillo, thar, me ious—lukin’ ten erfoot, whar did ye cum from ’ he demanded, grnflly, evidently calculating to awe the person from . the start. “ Comel comel chirp out, lively l” , “None of our business, where I came from l” Priggins rep led, with coolness scarcely in keep- ing with his pious aspect. And Scorpion Sam, the “ bad man ” of Poker- ville, was surprised. “Did I understand his face getting more ery as he ate the side of the parson’s burro. ‘ ture to remark an thing jist then?” And he leered nsinuatingly, while a crowd gathered in anticipation of a “ funeral,” which corpion Sam had the reputation of being able to arrange on short notice. “ I did remark, I believe!” the person said, quietl , “that it was none of your business, and IV further venture to emphasize that rev mark 1” Then there was a detonating spat, which was too quickly given to be readily com rehended by the bystanders, and Mr. Scorpion m dro ' ped serenely upon the ground, rolled part y Over, and was quiet. , Parson Priggins could not claim all the glory, however, if so dispOSed, for, sceming to notice a long-looked-for opportunity, ’Liza Jane’s fiery steed gavea snort and wheeling upon its hind 0 right?” he demanded, d close to id ye ven- feet, dropped its head forward, seized Scor ion Sam by the scat of his trowsers, and raising In , by the grip of its strong teeth, started of! u the gulch at a dead run, amid excited shouts mm the assembled spectators. , Half a mile-— erhaps a little further—from Pokerville was t e residence of Colonel Hen VVetlierill, within the boundaries of his valua e ranch of a thousand homes. This ranch had been located, and this resi- dence built, some three years before, when' Pokerville was not in existence. consequently it v ‘ was not known just how Colonel Wetherill came by the magnificent estate. ‘ Rumor said that the ranch had been owned - first by an Arizona miner, who was partly crazy, and had been bought of him for a mere song, so. to speak by the colonel. ‘ Indee , viewing the residence and its immedi—; ate surroundings one could scarcely doubt that the former owner was decidedly “ ofl,” mental- ly, for fitting up such a residence in a . wild; virtually unsettled country, at that time far from the nearest haunts of civilization. - The residence itself was of block graystone, a . valuable quarry of which was upon the estate. The house covered a large area of ground, and was like unto some of the old Spanish chstles, half arsenal and half monastery, with towers,’ battlements, strange gables, and great central court, with dark collared apartments under. the whole structure. There were numberless roomg. so numerous, said those who ought to know t never used or entered by the Wetherills. Then, too, a rumor had somehow got out that there were apartments no one knew of and that spirits were wont to haunt thesc, sometimes up at the top of the turrets at the dead of n ght. These rumors, however, were generally valued for about what idle rumors usual] are. At any rate, ’twas not to be den ed that'withn ’. in doors the Elms was as near to a ‘ at many'were ' aring' ‘ lace, in the. .- way of luxurious furniture and ac ornmente, as ‘ 3' ‘ a millionaire’s purse wellcould make it. Then there _ were fine outbuildings, a well- kept lawn, flower-gardens, a large natural pond, with the more dignified name of 90: a raveled carriage-drive to Pokerville, and, in M; . act, seemingly everything that could conduce to the ha piness ot a home. The co onel was a man of means, ’twas Said: I ." anyhow, he lived in the best style, had distin» guished visitors, in whosehonor he gave grand’ receptions; was lavish With his money at the camp; had his grand barouche and retinue of servants; owned a thousand head of cattle and‘ many sheep and horses, and had the help to look c after them; yet there were but the two—tether M and daughter. . , A halt-tipsy miner, at Pokerville, one of ht, had said that there were more Wetherills 5min two, when the ranch changed hands; but, as he, " had “died With his boots on "the nonone felt d . te'bellevo him. i ‘ our the Po ervilllans; but as Henry ‘Wethorilld * .,». We rill was not over-well’liked‘ y" y‘ ‘ was “ struck ” after v hired help numbered a small'regiment of the hardest fighting characters in that section, no 'one dared to my a rumpus with the “ Nahob,” as he was called. He was a man of forty-odd years, rather pre- possessing in appearance, with a rtly form a full, mustache shaded face, 3' ver-streaked hair, and dark intelligent eyes. He dressed well, used good language, and was apparently well calculated for the position be occupied. His daughter had been fairly described by ’lea Jane, the Girl Miner. She Was eighteen, tall and of statel figure, but though pretty of feature, it was of t at cold, stony type of beauty which repulses rather than attracts. As was her face, so was her tern r- ament, cold, arrogant and haughty—and B ood Bixby, of Pokerville, who, after burying the second Mrs. 8., considered that he 0 t to be a judge, stated that he would much rat or make love to an icicle, if it was financially as well backed as Miss Wetherill. She dressed grandly, was said to be accom- plished— And yet the Wetherills did not seem happy, its the luxury they lived in. . hen out for their morning ride—which was the only time they were seen together— they never were known to smile, nor to ex- change a leasant remark, as a sign of affection. Henry etherill now and then dropped in, of an evening, at Hemlock Harry’s, but no one could as that they ever saw him smile and say it truth lly. It always appeared as if some t sorrow or secret were worrying him like a relentless phantom. Another peculiarity of the Wetherills was the fact that they were never without a number of guests, all of whom were apparently well-to-do, and occupied a high social position. Army ofli- cers and their families, legislators and distin- guished peo le were constantly coming and goingto an from the Elms; and Eight-Toad ph, the stage-driver, boasted of having carried more “big guns” on his coach than any other man in the mountains. The servants of the Wetherill place were numerous, but one time~tried servitor, of the colored persuasion, named Suse, “ bossed ” ‘ everything from the pantry to the wine cellar. And Bass was so near white that she consid- ered herself as good a “white fo’ks.” In the Pokerville bank, it was known ‘ghat Suse had the sun little sum of six thousand dollars laid by. emlock Harry did the bank- ing business for any one who had savings to lay ’by: the “Ifour Aces” was, consequently, the n U I Hence the marriages.ny disposod element Suse, and all she had to do, when she wanted a husband, was to “ nom- inate her choice.” Busevwould imbibe, occasionally, however, and drop up into camp to fill her bottle at such times as she didn’t care to go to the Wetherill wine-vault. On such occasions she would be a little newsy, and then, only, the Pokervillians could learn much of the goings-on at the castle. Henry Wetherill kept his ready cash at the Elma, evidently, for e had no banker at the ' camp, and had been known to win as high as fittide dollars of an evening at the “Four 9. We have stated that few cared to declare enmity against him; yet there was one man ‘ who was not careful in making known his hatred of the Nabob—a pal, he was, of the rufian Scorpion Sim, who rejoiced under the 1 characteristic name of Liver Legs; though, how fie came by the appellation, no one seemed to new. He was a typical rough, and a boon companion of Scorpion Sam, the camp bully. Liver Legs had once been in the employ of Ben- ry Wetherill but for some reason unknown to the public, had reappeared one night, minus both eyes, and covered With blood. No coaxin could induce him to give any ex- planation o the mystery, more than to state that he had met with an accident, and would yet be revenged on the colonel. Another matter which served to bring the Wetherills into more prominence to the gossip- mongers, was the fact that the Dev11 Don and his terrible dragon steed, seemed to haunt the vicinity of the Elms at night, and was said to have been seen on Several occasions on thatop of the great tower on one corner of the building, and could on] he reached by passing through the house; a the occasions when it was thus V ‘ seen w‘ere in the dead of night. at which time it ,a ed surrounded by a weird spectral light. ’ had offered a large reward for a. / 'ifi. ‘ .I'3' " .Ir, l, "Liza Jane, the Girl Miner. ' solution of the myste , but no one stepped for- ward to attempt to “ y ” the thing, until-— About the hour that ’Liza Jane and Parson Priggins arrived in Pokerville, a. stranger on horseback approached the Elms by way of the sinuous drive. CHAPTER III. IRON-NERVE, THE sroa'r. THE man who cantered leisurely up the shad- ed drivo leading to the Elms, was one who would attract attention anywhere. Though young in years—for not over twenty- five summers had passed over his head—his whole physique was that of a man constantly inured to the hardships and perils natural to the existence of a free ranger. In stature he was of medium hight, and was attired in a costume of elaborately tanned and fringed buckskin, with spurred top-boots, and a sombrero. His hair was cut short, however; his hand- somely chiseled but sun-tanned face was destitute of beard, exce ting a slight, well-trimmed mus- tache, givmg im a more boyish appearance; his eagle eyes were piercing, yet With a wo- manly softness of expzession. .He was armed with an elegant Springfield rifle, which, judging by the costly trimmings and chasmgs upon it, had been the present of a friend or frien 8. His belt was also well supplied with small- arms; and the deep black horse he bestrode was an animal of more than ordinar mettle. As if aupart of the spirite horse, did the :tii'anger r' e, showing that he was a fine eques- r an. _He rode up to the carriage-ste , and securing his horse, mounted the verau a, and sounded the knocker. The summons was answered by Suse, who started at the handsome sport, inquirineg]. “Does Colonel Henry Wetherill live ere?” the stranger asked, tipping his sombrero politely, a mark of respect that at once won the gentle negress. Yes, sahl de cunnel libs right heah l” she re- sponded. “Thank you. I haven’t a card, but kindly tell him a gentleman desires to speak with him.” “ What’s de name, ssh?” “ Iron—Nerve.” “ De cod Lor’ bress us, what a namel ’Spect de boss isn’t at liberty, sah! House done chuck full vis’tors, sch—big hugs, sahl” “ Never you min about them, my good W0- man. You say to the colonel, that Iron-Nerve Nat wants to see him on important business.” And the s rt slipped a quarter-eagle into her ebony han s, which had the effect to cause Suses instant disappearance down the grand but gloomy hall. _ As she left the door ajar, Iron-Nerve entered the hall, and as he s ied another door to his right partly open, an presumed it led intoa parlor, he ste ped within. It was in eed a parlor—one of the grand— ,est the sport 'had ever seen, for the room in itself was large, and the furnishings were the choicest that a lavish expenditure of money could procure—quite astonishing, indeed, for that remote region. Upon a sofa, in one corner, sat a young lady and gentleman engaged in low conversation; the lady was clad in a robe of pink satin, with cost- ly lace trimmings; the gentleman in black broad- cloth, white vest and tie. This lady was Miss Theo Wetherill; the well- ' mustache, was' formed gentleman, with tawny Clinton Carmen, Miss Wetherill’s betrothed. He arose with a haughty stars. as Iron-Nerve Nat stepped into the apartment. “ Sir! you have made a mistake, I presume,” he said, in a freezing tone. ‘ “ I presume not!” Nat replied, coolly. as he became seated. “ Mr. Wetherill will join me, directly—I.will await him here.” “You will find the recsption-parlor on the oppos1te Side of the hall. sir. Be kind enough to step that way!” Miss Wetherill demanded. “ Thank you. I am uite comfortable here,” was the provokingly coo dissent. “ Do not let me interrupt your tete-a tete, in the least.” Carmen s naturally red face assumed an apo- plectic hue, and he took a couple of steps for- ward in great anger. “ Will you leave this room?” he demanded in high anger. ’ . “ Directly—after the colonel comes!” with imperturbahle nonchalance. , ‘ But, I an new!” Cannon roared, his rage pgw at .a u ling-prime “If you don’t leaiilvle is . :01!“ throw on Oil 0“ - Mme!” " y t’ y I I “You haven’t got the muscle todo it,” Iron- Nerve smiled. “ Beseated sir, or you are liable to be taken sick, and won’tbe able to play bride- groom, to-nightl” The words seemed to imply a‘threat, and the sport’s hand dropped signi cantly to the butt of a revolver. Miss Wetherill screamed. Carmen caught hold of a bell-cord, and gave it a 'erk. “ e’ll see!” he gritted. The following instant, a narrow door which 8 large pier mirror had hidden from view, swung inward, and two treacherous Mexican peons glided into the room. Their very appearance was a certificate of their evil natures, and what their duties were at the Elms. Iron-Nerve started a little, at their sudden appearance, but his face expressed no surprise or fear. - “At him, Gila, Pipo l” Carmen hissed, savage— ly. “ Pitch him out of the house 1” Instantly the two peons started for the sport, their black eyes gleaming, like those of a ser— nt. They stopped suddenly, however, for there were two rapid shots, and the tools of Clinton Carmen were whirled half around in their tracks —an ear cut off of each! “Now 03 with you, you .fools, or the next shot will be to kill 1” the young and now terribly defiant stranger cried, with still leveled revol— ver. a It was enough. With howls of fear and anger the two servitors vanished as they had come, just as Colonel Wetherill burst into the room. “Who is shot? What does this mean!” the colonel gasped, excitedly. “ It\means that yonder puppy attempted to have me thrown out, by our liirelings, and shot an ear off of each,” ron-Nerve answered, “to learn them manners l” ._ “In God’s name, who are you I—why are you here?” the Nabob asked, his face white, and eyes wildlv glaring. “ I am Nat Blossom—usually nicknamed Iron- Nerve. I entered this parlor, and was ordered out. I didn’t feel disposed to leave, and the dude, yonder, set the two GreaSers on me. Henry etherill, I came to see you, on business, ——not the dude! Let’s retire to the open air— the atmosphere, here, is decidedly too sweet for me. Come 1” He stepped from the parlor, and out upon the veranda, where were several chairs. Ttln:l Nabob followedhim, and both became sea e . , The pallor had not left thiI farmer’s face and he seemed to be laboring under a hard attack of nervous agitation. “Sorry to have harmed the Greasers, but I could not get around it,” Iron-Nerve remarked, as be lit a cigar. “No conse uence. State your business!” Col- onel Wetheri l re'oined coldly. “ Correct. I ust dropped down into this country lately, and while at a camp up here I came across a reward-notice with your name at the bottom of it.” “ Well?” “ Well, bein without much to occupy my time at presen , I thought I’d run down and see what terms we could come to in the matter.” “ None, sir. The m stei'y of the dragon can- not be solved, or else t would have been long before this.” “ Pshawl you’ve never had the right galoot at the reins.” ‘ “ Have you seen it?” “I have. It paid a visit to the vicinity of my camp. upprairie, last night.” “Wel ?‘ “You’d sleep easier if the thing was laid, I . hear?" a l “ tho told you so?” “Heard so up at the camp.” The Nabob was silent for a moment. _ “ Yes, I’ll admit that the accursed thing is the horror of my life,” he finally said, hoareely. “ I can never know any peace of mind as long as it haunts the Elms and the surrounding country, as you may well suppose.” “ Has any one ever been harmed by in” “Not to my knowledge, though dead men have been frequently found with no mark upon them to tell how they met their death.” “ Humphl merely a coincidence, likely. The so styled Don Dragon, who rides upon the den]- ish-looking beast, you think! is a dead man?” “ It has that appearance, I believe”. " Correct. I am of the same belief.” . ,“ Well, be brief with what you “y I” ‘ have to i .l Q l l \ ’Liza Jane, the Girl" Miner. \' “ I will. How much money is there in the job, from you, if I effectually lay this ghost, ghoul, demon, or whatever it may be?" “ I offered five hundred dollars.” “ That was more for the name of offering it than because you expected that any one would exert themselves to earn so paltry a sum. Do you know what I’ll lay the dragon for?” " You have a mouth.” “ Well, I’ll wager ten thousand dollars I can ‘ solve that mystery and corral Mr. Dragon with- in ten days.’ I, It was something extraordinary for the colo- ,1 nel to do, but he laughed. ‘3 “ There’s not a man in this section but what’s failed to capture the Devil Don and his dragon. Ask up in Pokerville, and be convinced.” “ From a rough estimate, I should judge there isn’t stamina enough in the whole crowd to scotch a rattler.” “ Get them down on you and you’ll likely think otherwise,” with a slight sneer. “ But I’ll tell you what I will do. You seem to have a great amount of self—assurance, which is, all well enough, providing you can back it. You mentioned wagering ten thousand that you can capture the Devil Don and his dragon within ten days. I’ll bet you two to one you can not do it! “ That is—twenty thousand against ten ’4” “ Exactly.” “It’s a bargain. Are you ready?" “ As soon as necessary. Tonight the mar- riage of my daughter will take place. If you Will present yourself, after the ceremony, 1 will have a contract drawn up, and you can deposit your money in the hands of any one of my dis- tinguished nests, and go to work.” “ You wi 1 do the same?” “If you require, although my reputation is good.” “ I am not dealing with reputations, sir. But zj ‘ we can doubtless flx ital] right. There is another thing important to know.” “ Well?” 9‘ “Am I to have the freedom of the Elms in pursuing my investigations?” “Certainly not. There is no connection be- tween the case and m residence.” “ On the contrary, learn the dragon has been seen upon the turret-top at nights.” l “ Nonsense—positive nonsense. The stairway ; to the tower can only be reached by‘ passing l through my bed-chamber, and the door has l been sealed eVer since I have lived here l” ‘ “ Indeedl Who did you buy the Elms of?” “ A Mr. Thornton—but that has no bearing on the case. If you undertake the job, I cannot have you prying about my residence, for I am constantly entertaining distinguished guests, who would not care to be brought in contact with a man of your station in life!" The handsome face of Iron-Nerve flushed a trifle, but be otherwise showed no oflense at the thrust. “ I presume I might have the liberty of your grounds?” he said, sarcasm in his tone. “Certainly, providing you remember your I gosition. and keep yoursalf strictly to yourself. ut, let me tell you, that you will eventually be more money in pocket by abandoning the ven- ture, at the outset.” Iron-Nerve smiled. ' “ We shall see l” he said. “ I do not propose to speculate with you alone, as there are others , who would like to have the mystery ventilated. I will be on hand to-uight at—-” “Ten o’clock.” “Very well. You’ll have your servants ap- rised of my freedom about the exterior of the films, or there’ll be more ears shot 03.” ' “ I’ll see to it.” “ Oh, yes, something I forgot. That was your daughter, insxde?” .5 Yes.” “ She’s going to mar the dude?” “If you refer to C inton Carmen, sir—yes. ! But, pardon me, what is a dude?” . “ A half-jackass and a half-kangaroo, Sir!” ‘ Mr. Carmen is a gentleman!” “Is be? Oh! well, times change, and I sup- posg people do. I’m off, now. Good-evening, ' . Slr And leaping into the saddle, the s rt galloped away, down the drive, upon the bac of his hand— some black steed. The N abob watched him ride away with a peculiar expression of countenance. “ He’s a strange fellow,” he muttered. “ I was startled at first sight of him. He must have money, to risk such a wager as he has. Capture the Devil Don, indeed! He is a wonderful man if he can do that. Pshaw! he’s mad. The fail- ure of others ought to be enoughto satisfy him. But, let him 0. I’ll be ten thousand dollars richer by the usiness.” “ Has he gone’i” Carmen Ventured out upon the veranda, with furious blaster, just then, well knowing that the Sport had gone. “ Of course he has gone!” the colonel re- marked. “ Why, were you afraid of him?” “ Not at all, my dear colonel. I am surprised that you do not know me better. Who is the fellow, anyway?” he demanded. “ A hard customer. Calls himself Iron- Nerve.” “ He should change his name to BraZen Face. Why, do you know, colonel, the impudent scoundrel actually called me a puppy, sir—just think of it, a puppy l” “ He did?” “ He did; and more, he called me a dude. Do on know what a dude is, colonel?" “ believe it’s a uew-fangled definition for a combination of ninny and ass, Carmen.” The deuce you say! W orso and worse. I am insulted. By my son], he shall pay for this with his life. Colonel, I appoint you to carry a challenge to him.” Wetherill looked disgusted. “Don’t be a fool, Carmen. The fellow’d kill you while you were winking. You go in the house and prepare for to-night. I’ll attend to the insult.” “ No! no! don’t you dare! The blue blood of my ancestors burns in my veins. I Will have him on his knees, or take his life. Not to- night, maybe, but at another time!” And he bobbed into the house again, in high dudgeon, while the colonel sauntered away to- ward the stables. “ Iron-Nerve will come at ten to-ni ht” he mused, “and he—he will not go ack to Pokerville with ten thousand dollars. I’ll fix the contract; then, after it is signed. something else will have to be done. I hope Carmen, the idiot, will not throw himself in the fellow’s way. The example in the parlor is ample evi- dence of the fact that the name, Iron-Nerve, fits him well. He certainly means business. ” CHAPTER 1V. mm STREET DUEL—“ 11‘ Is A DEVIL.” To say that there was excitement in Poker- ville, just about the time of the startling acci- derlig go Scorpion Sam, would be “drawing it m1 . . The bystanders shouted and swore, and some even ran swiftly in pursuit of the white steed, which was making off up the gulch at a swift gallop, still holding Sam in his powerful jaws. ’Liza. Jane, hearing the commotion. dashed out of the post-office. and one glance sufliced for her to comprehend the situation. “ Sto yer hossl sto yer hose, Jane. or Sam will be killed,” severe of the Scorpion’s cronies yelled. . “ Do him good, the brute!” was the Girl Miner’s retort. “ He’ll know hetter’n to go meddlin’ wi’ my hoss next time, eh, person?” Priggins’s face was pale and anxious, he evi- dently fearing that he was the direct cause of the hully’s death. “Stop the horse, Miss ’Liza?” he entreated; “it’s all mv fault. I knocked the fellow down, and then the horse pitched at him.” “Little Sunday-school trick, that, what I learned Thunderbolt myselfl” and ’Liza Jane actually laughed heartily. She then put two fingers to her lips and gave a shrill call, which echoed and re-echoed along the walk of the gulch. The effect was magical; for the horse spun around upon his hind feet, as if worked by mechanism. but still held Scorpion Sam, sway- ing to and fro. . Then the sagacious animal came trotting back, now and then shakin its head, spitefully, with the evident purposeo giving the Scorpion an extra stirring-up. . He finally paused, and at a motion from ’Liza Jane, dropped the terrified ruflian near where he had fallen. ' Sam gradually gathered himself up into a standing position, and glared from one to the other in a dazed way. as if at loss how to begin to express his injured feelings. “Well, what’s the matter, Sammy?” the Girl Miner asked. “ Been foolin’ around my Ara- bian, ag’in, have ye? How often have I told yethat‘he wouldn’t hev no one fussin' around him?” ‘ “ Cuss yer picter, I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ to the boss—leave it to the boys of I was,” Sam bel~ lowed. “ I war jest waltzin’ up ter shake hands wi’the stranger, thar, an’ weleum hm: ter our camp, when be up an’ hit me a Waterloo ri ht, v ' , lum in the eye, an’ I stabbed my toe an’ ell. -}- a gov? yer cussed beast gobbled me up, an’ made i "'7 O . “Certainly. Served you ri ht. Next time ‘ a stranger comes to town, you 1 know enough I ‘ f to.let him alone, eh?” ' ~ “ Wall I? Guess ye don’t know who I am, do yer, all" “ es, I do, right ’cute, Sam Sli 0, an’ more’n , . that, I reckon you an’ every ot ier galoot in '~ Pokerville knOWs who and what I am!’ the girl retorted, fiercely. “I’m just the argument as l; .5. says I ain’t afeard o’ forty wild-cats! ’ 3 The declaration seemed to carry weight, for ‘I a murmur of assent was heard on either hand, ' :, which by no means lessened the Scorpion’s fero- ' cious Scowl. ’Liza Jane had been located in the gulch only ‘~ 0. season; but she was a daily visitor to the camp. and had demonstrated on more than one occasion that she was not only able to take care \. -, of herself, but was equally able to take care of '9 an enemy who offended her. * y the majority of the Pokervillians she was regarded with a sort of awe, because of her reckleSs nerve, as they expressed it, in dwelling in the dragon-l nunth gulch, and no other man than brutal Scorpion Sam would have thought of angering her, without first considering the consequences. ' "r The Scorpion, however, while secretly fear. " ' l. 2. ing her, had boasted contemptuously that any man as would weaken to a young woman was beneath _his notice, and that he would in time illustrate that ’Liza Jane was more bark than bite. ' = “So ye ain’t afeard 0’ me, hey?” he roared, “me, whose hoes-power is more’n forty-’leven ~ i %' wild-cats?” " “ No: I am not afraid of youl” was the reply. “You’re a big, overgrown, good-for-nothing loafer, and can’t scare me, if you can others. You’re more, Sam Sligo—you’re a hang-dog villain. Ever since 1 located up the gulch, . ,2- yon’ve tried to injure me by hinting various ‘- "* , savory things of me. You’ve trie to turn I ~ xi ' people against me. You’ve done all you could ‘ to create an unfavorable and suspicious im . .* sion of me. I hurl it in your teeth, you og— ‘ ‘. i, you dare not deny it!” ., ' r ' The Scorpion’s face reddened, and a mali- ‘ 3 cious gleam entered his vicious eyes. , , “ Re ckon every one’s a right to his own opin- ‘ ' ion.” he growled, with a wink at his pals. “ ’Tain’t ’cordin’ ter reason thet ye’r’ a saint. r' ' nohow. Guess eyery one allows ye ain’t gittio’ - "7‘ rich out o’ thet claim; an’ no one w’u’d live in ‘ : Dragon Gulch what hadn’t some secret reason ’ hid thar. Fact is, gal, ye’r’ruther a’spicious ; character, an’ ther fellers aire ’bout ’greed that it’s fair that ye ’splain severial things l” - ,, “What?” _ 1 The Girl Miner’s eyes glittered like diamonds f f as she looked him in the face. “ “Ohl ill don’t matter 'est now; we’ll settle that some other time. ragons an’ sich like kin be tolerated, but thar’s them as ’spects as how a ’sploration mighta tale unfold. A a1 stayin’ all alone in sech a place ain’t acco ’ ter the laws 0’ natteral history, an’ we law- abidiu’ citizens don’t keer about livin’ in ther neighborhood 0’ kerricters whOSe exact bizness standin’ ain’t known. Mr —” “Stop!” ’Liza Jane interrupted, in a ringin 1, , voice; “ you need not mention Henry Weth ' . W as being largely interested in turn ng popular . opinion a ainst me. It is an open fact thathé ' is my bit rest enemy, and is unscrupulous! ' using ovary effort in his power to rid thi: vicinity of my prescnce. His secret, for all' -* .. this, he is too cunning to give even to you who ‘ {1.3 ‘ are his tools. Ha! ha! Serve him if you. like. I defy you all.” - She shook her clinched little fist under the bully’s blooming nasal appendage, and turned gowltud her horse, but the roman pushed her ac . “Stand aside, gal; don’t be in a hurry. Allowin’ ye’re right. and all squereot, thar’s W somethin’ else that ain’t settled l" “ What?” and her hand dropped mechanically to the revolver in her belt. “Just please ex- plain what isn’t settled l” - “ Waal, ye see,” Scorpion Sam went on, “ I’m calculated to be ther mayor 0’ this hyer city, ‘” an’ am tharfore a personage to whom much rec - n .' spect is natterally due. I don’t mind gittil' / ' carved up a leetle onc’t in a while, but when'a teller slugs me betune the eyes. like as if he m goin’ to sp’ile my entire landscape ye kin jut bet yer boots that aire Very stool-pigeon baggie ‘ '.‘/ ter loglze or fight.” _ g _ Add the bullyglared at Parson Jim. - ‘ . ‘ _ lend me one o’ ver little guns. ’ ' gritted, preparing for the duel. r 1". ‘ .\ v y, I o. ,i 1.. l \ . "m amass: the em Miner. ’Liza Jane also turned toward him, to note that his face expressed not the least'concern. . “ YOu hear, parson?” she said. ‘f The delecta- ble. sweet-scented Sam’ldemands an apology. Can you accommodate him?” For reply the 'oung man slid from the back “ I presume so,” he said. “ What way shall it be. ma or?” “Wha wh—l” Sam blustered. “How will you have it?" Priggins demanded, “the satisfaction you desire. hall I adminis- fer it strai ht from the shoulder, or will you have it by s icing, or in the leaden style?” “ Ye won’t apologize, then i” “Most assuredl not. I have nothing to apologize for, as acted in self-defense. You must either fight or crawflsh, you great, whisky- ah