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‘ Entered as Second Class Matter at the New York. N. Y . Post Office. Copyruzhced 1897. by BEADLE AND ADAMS. May 1:4. 1897.
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; $2.50 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS. Price. T 1 ‘y‘ ‘
' NO’  a Year- No. 92 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 cents.  01" A‘L'

 

 

 

 

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The Gold Witch’s Snanuwerw

 

 

Av

 

 

 

 

 

 

, V . V
.
. A I

D HER OFF AT THE OTHER END.”

 

PRESENTLY HE HALTED AND SAID ALOUD: “SHE HAS TAKEN THIS CANYON AND WE CAN BEA

   

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.9‘919’7’Wi’t01ts' She’d? ,. .5.

 

 

  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
        
     
    
     
    
   
   
 
   
    
    
  

Gold Witch’s Shadower;

o n,

The Lone Mascot of Deadmanis 
BY con. rnnN'riss INGRAM 

(JIIA I’TER I.
'run GOLD wn‘crr.

A MAN was slowly following a trail along a
wild canyon in the mountains of Colorado.

lie was well niountgd and armed, and bc~
fore his horse trotted a dog which he seemed
to place as much confidence in as a trailer
as he did in himself.

The man was a fine-looking, muscular
young fellow, with an honest face, deeply

 

3' I; ’1, bronzcd, bearing the look of fearlessness of
one who had passed his life upon the
border.

Presently he halted and said aloud, as
though speaking to his horse and dog:

head her oil at the other
look at her.” .
Z’l‘urning from the trail, he 'went off” at a
_ gallop down the valley. '
‘ .a-‘Hetkept thiswpace up for several miles;
A then, turning into a canyon penetrating a‘
rocky ridge, he came out on the other side of
'a range justiwhcrea large canyon running
, from the northward cut across the trail.
,-  / There. hehaited ‘ for a rest, watered his
 horse from a brook near and staked him
; ‘ out to feed, while he prepared some food for
~ , «V himself. "
This occupied an hour, when he again

  

 
 

  

. { alluded to.
/‘  7. The horseman had not gone very far when
he suddenly drew, rein with the exclama-
tion:  '
1 f‘There 'shecomosl-and isn't she a dar-
> 'ngtt , S‘ . i v
7 }"l‘he one referred to came in sight, but it
, ,j r- , ‘was hard to decide at a glance just" who or
’ i 1 wh she was.  k ‘ V
.S e was mount, gypona splendid animal,
as black as ink, [rt-“which was without a
_ bridle. Merelyfinlari. encircled his neck,
one end being coiled an hun g over the born
or a very. odd-looking side-saddle. ,
In front of this horse trotted a large blood-
hound, some fifty paces ahead, and which
came to a halt with a savage growl as ’th

horseman came into View. ‘

  
 
 

  

 
 
 

  
 
  

'~ 4
v

    

, = snow—a splendid animal, with a lariat onl

‘ J about his neck. and carrying a large pac

, {4 covered over with,an indie-rubber wrapper.

Jr.  Upon this pack sata crow and a parrot.

apparently enjoying their ride, while a black
cat lay coiled up in the center, fast asleep.

,, q , “Behind the horse was a huge dog—a shert,

, . lily-“6a Vge-looking brute, indeed. I .

 , » at”, the wner of this strange outfit?

 It was a woman, 'evidently.~ Her years

were perhaps fifty; her face was darkly-

. , hronzed, and her hair, iron-gray, fell for down

, ' her back in heavy masses.

, ‘ , .- Here es were dark apd;
j 2,, a ember ace wasan express
; ” manning combined. , , »

 .She were a cavalry officer’s slouch hat en»

., ' circled _ by astufled snake to serve as a cord

";—;au,d.wlth_ared plume suit, while the brim

, irwas looped u 'thh aniviory pin representing

, ahumanskui‘; ‘ ' m .- -- , , i"

 ' A soldier's coat, with epauiettes, a blend-

vred velvet skirt, cairal’ry topsboots with 3 ms

3.49! gold, 3 sash, and :belt of arms comp eted

 orator-e: While she carried in her hands.

long“ staff... oncnc'and of which 'was a" small

  
   
  
      

 
   
  

  
  

 
  
  

ipiercing, and up-
on of cruelty and

  

 
 

 
 
 
   

   
  

 
  

"a

  
  
 

cede saber bayonet.
 Vith this stag she

 
 

 

  
  

 

  
 
  

"'She has taken this canyon, so we can,
end and get a good

 mounted, riding toward the canyon before

‘75 Behind her followed a horse as white as I

I to strike it rich.

scythe as'sharp as, a razor", and-on the omen 

movements , . .
1‘2..-  ‘ v, z' ., a  thuiupedérits hack-Tam ‘yvowled,’ while' the r

n V A 71.
When she beheld the horseman ahead, she]

said something to the dog, when he at once
trotted on as though content with having
, givun his warning growl of possible danger
; ahead. ,
' The young horseman had now halted, and
*med willing to await the coming of the
“ “_ ange woman and her cavalcade.
 As she drew near she halted also, waved
"her stall' Several times around her head and
saluted in a voice almost startling in its rich,
musical tone:

“ Good-morning, friend."

“ Good morning. madam!” and the horse-
man politely raised his hat

"‘ You have been well raised, man, to
l salute a lady politely. - ;

“)Which way do you travel?" =~_

“’“Eastward, to the Bronx settlement.”

“ Art acquainted there?” '

“No, madam,” and the horseman coughed,
as though trying to keep the lib he told from
choking him. ' '

“ I left there yesterday morning, or rather
passed through the Bronx Valley.”

“Maybe you know some one there, for I
am going to the Du'dley Ranch to get a place
as, cowboys” ‘ I

” The udley Ranch?”

“‘ Yes, madam." ‘

“ It is now owned by other people.”

“Yes; I heard that Mr. Sloan had bought

1
1,

 

“Your Mister Sloan is Dare Sloan—as yet
i only a boy. It was his mother who bought
the place. Do you know them?" _

“I met Mr. Sloan last year when he was
hunting on the plains. l was his guide.
and he stopped at my ranch for a couple of
months. ‘

“But the Indians ran off my cattle, and

as i am in hard luck, I was going to see if I
could get a cowboy’s place with him.”
.‘ I» “Well. he‘s in hard look, too, for a bank
has failed that lrad his money in it, and a
rascally agent who had the Sloan place, in
the East, to sell, ran oil With the money, so
the farm ,and ranch they bought in the
Bronx Valley they can’t pay for, and you’ll
not get work.”

“My, but that’s bad’ for me, for I need
work‘awful. and I don’t know just what to
dod" and the cowboy looked unutterably
sa . -

“ What's your name 2’? asked‘ the strange
woman. .

“ Buck Brandon, madam.

“I . Was a Government scout at Fort
. Bridger, and afterward at McPherson; ,but I
laid up my money and went to ranchin‘, as I
told you.” I V ' ’

“Why don’t you try the mines?”

“Do you think there’s money in it?”

"‘ I known, for I’m' from Colorado.” '

“Are you minin ‘2” asked the cowboy,

o

with a look of surp se. ’

 

calm reply.-
, who cowboy started and looked uneasy.-
.' “ I’mlcall'ed'the Gold Witch, young man,
for I can' tell when there's gold in the
ground by touching it with my stuff here.
“I’m a fortune-teller. and that‘s how I

.- ' knew all about your friends, the Sloane.

j, "'BUE I'Ve'gOt a mine down in Colorado,
and the minerscome to me when they wish

i. “ You go. there“ for I tell you there’s
money ahead for you, if the Sloans‘Qan d0
nothing for ydu. ‘ .’ ~ ' ~

'_‘-‘Go down to..Deadman’s‘ Den. as they
call the Nancy-Camps, and you’ll get Work.
if itis work you want. - Z ’ V -

“G0,,Ir say! When I command, I must
be-obeyed, 'Disobey, and I’ll curse you 3”

;hersel,f_ into a tern-per, and this mood came
infré bus. for the two horses weighed, the
do' .g owled. the raven crooked, the parmt
-shriek-ed,'nnd". the cat seated on, the pack

 

'.\ I. v  y, : 1" . ._ i l,‘

 

» "MiningWNoz I’m awitchi” was the‘

Thowoman seemed to besuddenly working,

fGold Witch pointed with her strange stafl?
as in terror from her.

he dashed rapidly away down the canyon ,

But he soon turned about, waiChL'd for
awhile to see the woman pass, and then took
her trail, following it doggedly for many-9,
long mile. -

The next day looking very much the worse
for a hard ride, and with his horse nearly
worn out, he rode up to a numb and Was at
once greeted by a handsome woman of forty,
who asked eagerly: _

“ Did you track her, Brandon ‘?" '

“ I headed her 01f, Mrs. Sloan, had a talk
with her, and she ordered me to go to the
mining-camps to find work, for I told her I
was coming here to seek a place as herder, ,

“I started for the camps, as she command.
ed, butdogged her to Deadman’g'DQn mining.

else, and is known as the ‘Gold Witch.’ ’
“ You have done well, Brandon; butvnow
I have bad news to tell you. for my son writes

and that we are ruined.

now give up this place, and find a home -
‘where. I  .I  ‘

“ You return to your‘old ranch,
I need you, and need you I shall,
where to find you.”

CHAPTER II. .  -I

, SEPARATE WAYS. ,5; 
Two men had gone into camp on the v y, I ,-
of .the Platte River, at a point where one?-
lcd to the further West, the Overland up , 7
)alit‘ornia, and the other to the Southern f,
along the banks of the South Platte.  ‘ ;
’l‘h'ey found for themselves a good carQ

i
 _
'nv r

 

 

and as atftheir ‘Saddle-horns hung pi ‘ .
of gainertheir repast was likely to. balm ,w'
urions.  _ "   ,
The men redefine animals, that apnea -.
to possess speed and‘enduranpe comb‘ ' t f
a remarkable degree, and their eQuip.
of saddles and bridles apparently werQs...
new, ’as though not very long in use, s.;;i’}-¢ g _._
The horses were stakedrout, coffeequfa 
fryingpau-were taken from‘the'traps".and _
fire built.     Ff w . ,‘ '
Potatoes were put in the fiflfiuflmt
brought from. the river, coffee, made and
hoecake, and the the fsattflown, 
substantial. supper. , , 31:2, ‘:33*~_'~’,‘_‘y£t
They seemed to' enjoy their N "
pleasantly, then threw "u 'a, 
and gathered logs for a firg for t‘heleni
[As they sat there in the
light their
vealed.
One was of short stature, with

, .

l

lare Cafe -e‘fi.1.'9~.'
faces and formsgwere.  

s was

at
O

r boots and broad sombrero, and. wore a be ',
arms. ' 1- ., , ' ‘
His companion‘was tau, elegantly”
for both symmetrical grace and strel
He was attired 'in a cordum suit,'.t0‘p-boo
gray slonch hat and was we 1 arm -"
' His face was of refined-moi  ,
as perfect as a woman's, and\ in, {Of fearless
ness,1ntelligeuce and decisle   ,, 
Both men ,were beardiflwhe elder“?
pearing to have totally .
while the tall young man’s  81' HP showed:
traces of a mustache that h, _ een sacrifioeflr
‘trom some cause. .v ' 3; ‘ ' 7*
‘fWell, Dick. tomorrow We part. a- '
assure you it will be.a;sad ,partingflto
Never can’ I' target from what on saved

   

E

gallows l” _  I  I
And a shudder passed over the“! ‘ ', -‘
'youn man who 3 .. he. ' :

 

o 3 . was {mum r instrument;  '1

  

 

directly at the cowboy, who at once shrunk ‘

“ I‘ll go,” he cried, and wheeling his horse '

camps, and found out that she has a mine in‘ " ‘
Echo Canyon, living far away from any one  ‘

that the bank has failed where 1 had my funds,  
“I shall pay you your money, for I m st  

, .irvhcn 
  ,1

form, an honest, resolute facey-End $01185...
_‘thirty years of age. ‘ f, '( ’ “"‘L‘f'i'
He was dressed in a'hunter’s SH“, ‘50!) c 
_-':. .y
formed-'3.

his reams— '-

shav‘en 'ofl? a fbeardv; :.

'my good friendfi—adogth'on armaments 

 

-- , genius

fol as
u S(
aid.
u 
. pl‘cici
' know
I’ mouri
,lovrlx
-‘  X
save 1
feelin
' Whitil
if act.

‘1. .‘1

'- Was

, slouc
- lmakc
ti _aic,
. Mead
. H

  

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ground, where water and grass were in pill  I 

   
    
       
      
    
    
    
    
     

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.. 1 0...... _‘.W .m--. ~rgo~a ~IN<-
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w'g'
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‘ genius and the plotter was a woman, beauti-

ful as an angel, God bless her!"
" So say I, for she did save me, with your

1 aid.

“ IIow brave she was to come to the jail,

‘ pretending to be my mother, and I did not
‘, know the contrary until she drew her deep
'mourning vail back and showed me the

lovelv face of Miss Dangerfield.
“You know it was my good fortune to

i save her life on two separate occasions, and,
i feeling that I was Innocent of the crime of
'1 which I. was accused, she determined to
l act.

“ l have before told you how surprised I
Was when she handed out files, a rope,
slouch hat, beard and wig, and told me to
make my escape that night and go to the

ate, where I would meet one who would
. ead me to safety.”

“And that one was myself, Dare, who
also can never forget how, the day of the

gesliet, you.risked your life and saved

me.

“ She sent for me, when she learned I was
night gate-keeper at the jail, and offered me
a bribe of five thousand dollars, while she
told me that, under oath, she could assert
your innocence, and asked me to help you,
as I had no family to hold me there.

“I told her that I also believed you inno-
cent. so would act on that idea, and not for
a bribe. Iliad some thousands laid by, so

 “mmffd give her a check for it, if she would

give me the money on it, as, after the es-
cape, I would not dare go near the bank in
the city to draw out what I had there.

“ This she did, and then she bade me give
you the package of twenty-five hundred dol.
Jars, telling you to take it as a loan.

“ “'ell, you escaped, met me, and we got
away together, I in the disguise that Miss
Dangerfield had bought for me, and I
made a pretty good-looking Woman, didn’t
I?”

“ You did indeed, Dick.”

“ And you looked well in your white wig
and spectacles, Dare. ”

“ Yes, Ialmost felt like an old man, after
going bent over for a week, and it is hard
now to keep from calling you daughter,”
and both laughed at the remembrance.

“Well, we escaped, Dick, and I wrote
Miss Dangerfield from Omaha, where we
changed our characters, for there is no fear
of detection now.”

“‘ No, not now.”

“ And here we part, for I must go on up

to the ranch of my friend Buck Brandon,

_where my letter, left at our former home,

told me I Would learn of my mother’s where-
abouts.

“You still think you cannot go with
me?" ,

“I think it best by far that we should
separate, for it will be safer for both of us.

“I will ride on to-morrow to the North
~Platte settlement, and there selling my horse,
will take the Overland coach for San Fran-
cisco, and from thence go. up to the North.
west, in Iirashington Territory, I guess, and

go into business; but I will write you under

cover to your friend Brandon, of just what I
am doing.”

“And I know not what I shall do until I
See my mother. . - ,

“Of course I am anx10us to prove that ~I
am not the murderer of poor old Squi/ge
Benson; but that must he. done through
others. not myself, as the risk of being {1.6.
taken is too great. . "

“ You have been a true friend to me, Rich.
3rd Doyle, in the six weeks we have been

. together, fugitives from the law, and I hope

some day we may meet again,"
Sloan spoke with deep feeling.

“ We will, Dare, and I venture to predict;
you will yet be proven innocent, although
sentenced under circumstantial evidence that
would have hanged any man.”

and bare

. r. Thus the two friends, the fugitive from the

.,._..S

The

gallows and the night—watcliman at the prison
who had aided his escape, talked on until
late into the night, when they retired to
their blankets.

lut they were u,» at sunrise, had a good
breakfast, and then parted with many ex-
pressions of regret and friendship.

\Vhilc Richard Doyle went on his way to
where he could take the Overland stage—-
then the only passenger Service to the Pa-
eific Coast—Dare Sloan, whohad before been
in that part of the Country on a camp hunt
of several months, followed the trail which
he knew would lead him to the ranch of
Buck Brandon, who had been his guide and
hunter on the occasion referred to, and after-
ward had been employed on the Sloan
Ranch in Iowa.

 

CHAPTER III.
THE COWBOY AT HOME.

BUCK BRANDON sat in front of his little
cabin-home enjoying his pipe after a late
dinner, for he had just' come from a day’s
hunt after game.

lie was a tine-looking young fellow, who
had saved up his money when a Government
scout at Fort McPherson and Fort Bridger,
and after “Homesteading” a place in Ne-
braska, had bought more land until he was
master of a couple of thousand acres.

He had selected the spot for his future
home when scouting, and had chosen well.

Often he had gone there at ditl't rent times
and done a little work, cutting out timber
for a. log-cabin and fences, and at last, when
he had turned ranchero, he had speedily
erected his home, put up fences about a gar-
den plot and field, and then went after his
cattle.

lle had started well, and his ranch was
frequently the resort of hunters and oilleers
who wished to hunt, and thus had Dare
SlOan gone there with a young lieutenant
from the fort.

When the Indians ran off Buck Brandon's
cattle and ponies, he had shut up his cabin
and gone Eastward to earn more money
w1tl1 which to start anew, and had come one
night to a ranch, which. to his delight, he
found was owned by Dare Sloan and his
mother.

He had at once accepted the position of
border for the ranch, and held that position
as has been recorded, when news came that
took Dare Sloan to the East, where he so
nearly came to a sad end at the hands of the
hangman.

Of the breaking up of her home by Widow
Sloan, and her departure for parts unknown,
the reader already has been informed.

_ Buck Brandon had taken what mOney he
had, and which Mrs. Sloan had paid him for
his special trailing of the Gold Witch, and
purchasing half-a-dozen ponies and a bun-
dred head of cattle had returned to his ranch
to once more start out to make a fortune and

. become a cattle king.

To his delight he found his cabin had not
been destroyed, and the things he had
cached were safe and sound, so he quickly
had all to rights once more; and, as the In-
dians had been driven further away, he had
little fear of another visit from them.

So, though alone in his far-away ranch,
fifty miles distant from his nearest neigh-
bors, he seemed perfectly content.

He had brought with him on his ponies
am 1e provisions and stores for the winter,
an was preparing game to put away, while
he had piled up large quantities of wood
about his cabin, to keep him warm when the
icy winds should blow.

His cabin was at the head of a valley,
with high hills and timber sheltering it from
the north winds, and there was grass in
abundance, with a brook running by his
door. . ‘

Sheds were there for the cattle should
, heavy snows fall, and the lone cowboy felt

 

 

Gold Witch’s Shadower.

 

 

 

that he was prepared against every and any
emergency.

llis cattle sought the shelter of the valley
by night, so Were of little trouble, while by
day they fed along the river-bottmus and out
over the prairies.

It was while contemplating his comfort
and prosperity, that he sat enjoying his pipe,
when suddenly he was startled by a loud
ballot), at which he sprungr to his feet to be-
hold a horseman apprm‘tching.

He had his ritle handy, and waited, for in
that wild and then remote land he knew that
he might find a foe in the stranger even
sooner than a friend, for lawless men then,
as now, were the dread and curse of the set-
tler. .

“ I-Io, Buck! how are you?" called out the
horseman as he approached.

“ Dare Sloan, b the great grizzlies of the
Rockies!" cried irandon, and he hastily
went forward to greet his visitor.

After his horsevwas staked out, and Buck
had set about getting something to eat for
his guest, Dare asked:

“ Well, what news, pard?”

“I guess you know it all, Pard Dare, for
there is littlel can tell you more than that
your mother got your telegram and at once
sold out and quit."

“ And where gone ‘2”

“ There‘s a letter hero for you may tell
you, but] don't know," and he got the let-
ter. '

“ Yes, I found a line at the ranch telling
me to come to you, and here I am; but my
mother did not get my letters, it seems, as
they Were at the ranch.”

“No, for she left at once after receiving
your telegram, and I was mighty sorry to
hear of your hard luck, l’ard Dare, for it’s
hard to lose one‘s fortune as I know, be it
big,r or little.” -

9‘ Thank you, Buck; but for myself I do
not care, as i am young anti can rough it,
though it is hard to see my mother come to
almost want."

“ So it is; but you read your letter, and
I’ll goon with my cooking.” ,

So Dare Sloan broke the seal to his moth-
er’s letter and read:

“MY DEAR Sosz— -

“ Your telegram warns me that we have
nothing to expect—in fact, that we are little
better than be gars, for all we can realize
from the sale 0 what is really our own will
not amount to two thousand dollars.

“ I therefore, while you linger in the East
to see if aught can be gained from the wreck,
will undertake to find a new home and occu-
pation here.

“ I have not decided upon my course, but
I have a chance, I think, of doing something
that may bring us riches yet.

“Ileave this letter in the hands of Buck
Brandon, who has proven our faithful friend;
so when you reach his ranch, await there

. until you hear from me, as [will write a

letter to the ex-scout to Fort McPherson, as
he is known there, and they can direct my
courier how to find his ranch.

“ Do not, therefore, leave Brandon's ranch
until you hear from me, even should it not
be for months. -

“With every hope for our prosperous
future, and all good wishes for yourself,

“Your attached '
“ Mo'rmcn."

Such was the letter, and by it Dare Sloan
knew that she had not heard one word of
his danger of being hanged in N—-— as a
murderer!

"I am glad of it—glad, now, that she
failed to get either my letters or telegrams,
for by not doing so she has been saved so
much of anxiety and heartache.

“ But. where can she have one?

“She speaks of having an i ea: yet Buck
can tell me nothing about it.

“ I will question him further, for this sun-v

 

 

 

    
 
  
     
    
 
     
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
    
    
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
     
  
   
   
   
   
 
 
  

   
    
 
     
     
  
     
  

  

     
    
   
      
 
 
    

mm

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, . , ‘ . ' , w ' , n J ‘ ‘ . -
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pcnse regarding my poor dear mother is by
no means pleasant.

“I say. Buck ‘1"

“Yes, Pard Dare.”

“ My mother gives me no clue as to where
she has gone, or as to her purpose, in, this
letter, so I must see if we cannot put our
heads together and find out. "

" I'll do all [can to help you, pard.”

“I know that; but she says I am to wait
here until she sends a courier to Fort
McPherson to find you, and he will bring me
a letter, through you, telling me what to

“That’s good, for I’ll have your company
some time yet.”

“I do not care, for certain reasons, to re-
main here too long, Buck, .for I am known
to think highly of you, and you may be
looked up and asked about me.”

“And wh_at,then?”

" The trufiis, Buck, I got into a terrible
trouble East," for a man was killed and I was
suspected, though I pledge you my word I
was not guilty. _

f‘Now, I had no desire to hang for an-
other man’s crime, so‘camc West with all
speed.”

‘ “ I understand. pard, and you were right
to do so; but no one will ever. get any news

out 0’ me re rding you. .I'm dumb as a
jack-rabbit. 

“ 1 know t. ‘, '~ nck; but I could be very
content herer‘l‘f I only knew just what had
become of my mother.”

' “ Oh, she‘s all right, for, pard, she’s one to
take care of herself under any and all cir-
cumstances.

“Why, she’s all business, and don’t you
forget it, and she’s no more acquainted with

J i ,What fear is than—~than—well, Imay say

you/are, and that’s saying a great deal, for
do think you have got more quiet nerve
than falls to a man's lot often.” , 

“Well, I have had a chance to test my
nerves ‘of late that I hope never do go
through again, Buck,” and Dare Sloan shud-
dered at the thought of how near he had
been to the hangman’s rope. '

“I don’t doubt it, pard; but now you,
wish to know all I can tell you about your
mother, so we’ll chat it over while you eat
your grub, for I knoyv you are hungry."

“I am, indeed, as I had n early break-
fastland have been ten hours steady on the
trai 3’ .

,

CHAPTER IV.

THE cownov‘s STORY.

, DARE SLOAN did not care to make more

known than he had to, about himself and his
trouble, to the cowboy.

That Buck Brandon was true as'steelhe

well knew,but he did not care to burden him

with any secret that might be disagreeable to

- keep, should the rancher be called upon to
- tell what he knew about his friend and

' uest.
Eggs only hoped to hear soon from his moth}
ewthat he mi ht join her and, the two seek a
hidin -place ar away, and free from all pos-
itible an or of discoveryior capture.

He wel understood that his mother, for
some reason always kept from him,was ready

there 'would‘be no trouble about her when)
she knew that her son’s life depended upon

. .the Securit of their hiding-place.

“Well, ard Dare, I must tell you from
the first, and I’ve had no word not to do so,”
began Back, the cowboy, when Dare Sloan

,_ had finished his supper and lighted his

or r. a
fill was dark now and growing chilly.
The ponies and cattle had all come into the
for the night, Buck’s chickens,‘ of
he had brought a dozen. had one to
roost, and the fire onthe cabin hearth urned

 bri htlyo ' ‘ "

uck had seeped  cigar'from\ pm, bu,
V v , I ‘ '  I" N

1--

a“

go anywhere away from civilization, so, .

 

so.
Still, he said that he could talk better with
a cigar than a pipe, and so lighted it and be-
gan his story,

“Soon after you left, young pard, there
came to the ranch the queerest-looking crea-
ture I ever set eyes on.

“ She was a woman, with gray hair, dress-
ed up in a military coat, a sombrero with a
rattlesnake fora cord, and a skull of ivory
for a pin to hold up the brim.

“ She had a red-velvet skirt on, top-boots
with spurs, and she was a woman to be scared
of, and no mistake.

“ A belt-of—arms, a long staff, with a
crooked knife on one end and a bayonet on
t’o‘ther, with a rifle, completed her arma-
ment, and she looked loaded for hear, I can
tell you.

“But, that wasn’t all, Pard Dare, for her
outfit beat her own looks.  -‘

“ She had two as fine horses as I ever sa ,
one white, one black, and rode the black one
without a bridle.

“ The white horse she used for a pack-ani-
mal, and the black beauty she rode.

“Then there was a pair of the cussedest-
looking dogs I ever put eyes on, with a cat
that was black as midnight, and a crow-—
think of that! a regular croakin g crow! and
a parrot that could cuss and pray in chorus
Wltll himself.

“She had a regular tent, and all to make
her comfortable, and she went into camp in
the valley near your ranch, and after dark
waltzed up to see your mother.”

“To see my mother?” repeated Dare, in
amazement.

“ She did, for a fact; and they seemed to .

be acquainted. though your ma was not
pleased by her visit, I judge, for, when the
queer customer left she told me she would
give me five hundred dollars to go on the old
hag’s trail and find her den.

“ Maybe you know her, pard ‘2”

“ I haven’t the slightest idea of who the
cgeature can be. ' ,

“.But, did you go?”

“I did, and I tracked her down in Colo-
rado.”

“To Colorado?”

“ True: and found that she lives in a
mining settlement, or near one they call
Deadman's Den,”

" What does" she do there i”

“ Mines and fortune-tells, ‘With a look
agonnd to find gold for the boys, now and
t en.” ,

‘ “And what did she go to my home for?"

“I am sure she went there to see your
mother, only.”

“ You do not know what passed between»

them ‘2”
“ Not a word.” .‘ , ,
” And Nil-Hold mymothcr where the wo-
man stoppe‘w , -
"'I did; "and she paid me the money,

thou h I did not wish to take it; but she.

said must, and it was that which set me
EEG h! ranchin’ again,. along with what I

"You were right to take it, Buck, for if
you-accomplished what you Went for, you
earned it.” . .

“Well, I made up m mind when I did,
if you and our ma had uck go against you,
and want a home, this would be yours as
much as mine.”

“ You are a good fellow, Pard Buck; but
which way did my mother go after leaving
the ranch?’.-’ ' ,

.“Bh’e took the Overland coach further

west, but I don’t know where she went, and *

she only said she would send word to you
here at my ranch.”

Dare. Sloan could not understand all that
hehad'heard of this strangfiwoman-caller on

' his mother..

'He‘ could not think who she could be, and
what interest she held in his mother,or she

 

/.

.


 

 

 

     
 
   
   

said that he referred a ire, and re  
p p1 at}? um then, the sending of Buck Brandon to

{more sold,

 

   
 

u. , Lawyl
' Dell pie:
Lat once
and post
u 
,gret to s

7
“the stranger, that had caused the visit;

  
  
 

trail the strange creature to her. homei‘

“ I can only wait, Buck, until I hear from
my mother; and Heaven grant no harm has
hefallcn her!” he said, as the two prepared .3011 110 .
to turn in for the night, for, having c0n1~~  -Dm‘kf
pleued his journey, his destination being the ' s.

 

cowboy’s home, the fugitive felt the wear" . "I a

and tear of all he had gone through with lawyer.

more than he cared to admit, even to him.» ,pl'opel‘L
self. v ‘ :son”

“Yes

CHAPTER V. “No

A BITTER BLOW. murder

Now, let us go back a little, in the order of "deuce 9

time, not to account for the presence, at.  “In

Buck Brandon’s ranch, of Da, 9, Sloan, nor to ‘ f/ ‘ Th

reveal the pre‘ViOus history -,:  -. mysterious- man, y

  
  

ly absent mother of the yo,  man and ther’fOne-tet
strange relations which sh. vidently was-,5, 
forced to hold with the Witch: all these-..',
facts will develop in the due’ progress of  “
disclosure. ' 

We go back to Daisy Dell Manor, t
home of Darke Dan erfield a his beau, 
ful daughter Anita, 1n Centre New YorkL—j
the Miss Dangerfield. of Chapter II, by ‘
whose remarkable intercession and sacrifices,

 

 
 
 
  
 
  
   

made in her father’s absence and whollyg'z- $1M“
without his knowledge, Dare Sloan had, 33.. impat'
caped the gallows. .‘_  . , ,- » . “I:

Darke Dangerfield, returning unexpmddvi 

1y after a long absence in Colorado,9wheré . you t

he had experienced heavy temporary losses,  stand,
learned from Anita of the disgrace brought, hensn
upon them by the son and brotherhand had “
promptly discarded and disowned the recream, prope
and criminal. ' . who

The knowledge of it all hurt the Proud: i swan

man to the heart,~and added still another 1‘ Sloan
sorrow to the calendar of his miseries.“ for he ‘. - 9

had shot and killed, in selLdefeBE, his man,
neighbor, Henry Sloan—the husbande'of" .g‘f‘éhuti
Dora Denny-the woman to whom the firing.  ~ tors,
cratic Dangerfield had once been engageyfi weep
but had jilted, in order to marry 1‘ grew » 
heiress. ‘ .3 ‘ ~ ‘zzprop

 

  
  
  

This killing of her husband had turned the.  ~, ingr
vials of Dora’s wrath against Dangerfield and;  ,l‘ "
his rich wife, and transformed her once mild ~, _; g0 l
and beautiful nature into that of a most da’nr 77'1  aliml
gerous enemy; and she had fled. anm the. " moons
consequences of a terrible crime to the Week mar
where, on a ranch in Northwestern Iowa. She  not d

had hoped to hide in peace, with" he? only/Q.
child—Dare Sloan. I A ~ ‘ '
But, as we have seen, it was a {8139 hope .
for there the mysterious Gold WItCh found .
her, and on that discovery turns the darlc 

  
 

drama of this story. , .  ,1 , list
Darke Dangerfieldu hurt in fortune and; ‘30”

pride. now determined to retire to his Dali  . .
Dell Manor estate, unhappin awfated 88‘ fl-  
was with the slaying of his neighbor, Sloan};  .t‘ ‘
and, by goodlmanagement of the big farm”r’-s 1'
and that of an adjoining farm .
Elmwoodpto regain somewhat 0 1118 108.8%;
 So the town heuse and its fine furnnural;
and to the manor father and
daughter retired. - a? 
, This was the situation when. One morning.
a town carriage drew up to tile mar
house door and from it a stranger dismounted
He had the air of a business man, and thy,
can} he sent in to Darke Dangerfield, WE?“

‘8’-
. re

 

 

  

 

  
  
    

       

  
 
 
 

  

 
 

on it: , . ,
f‘ FRANK STONE.
. Atmey-at-Mw.”

Darke Dangerfield entered the Foam with
surprise to know what his visitor 00mg,
want. ‘ . "  33/

,He owed not hdollar m the world,
owned the Dell estate. while-Elmwood is
which he {was working. 1391011 ed- to the-
friend of the Sloan amily, edge Yard
and so no legal matters were outs '
against hini, andhe naturally thought.

A He has come on account of that ,
boy, Dean, Ifeel certain."   7‘

     

  
 
 
  

     
      
  
 

    

 
 

     

_. -~ M.- —-b~-'

   

/

(1'.

   
 

ft ‘ . .
l ‘ -' Lawyer Stone greeted the master of Daisy

sit; Dell pleasantly, and Darke Dangerfield saw
to at once that his visitor was a gentleman
‘and possessed a very pleasant manner.
om “My visit to you, Mr. Dangerfield, I re-
has .gret to say. is an unpleasant one, for it bodes
red you no good,” said Mr. Stone.
rm» Darke Dangerfield merely bowed and
the 'nerved himself to hear the worst.
ear» “ I am the attorney, sir,” continued the
ith lawyer, “ of the Benson estate, that is, of the
in.» property left by the murdered Squire Ben-
rson.”
“Yes, sir."
“ Now Squire Benson, you remember, was
murdered by adistant kinsman, so the evi-
of' dance showed, by the name of Dare Sloan.”
at " I remember, sir.”
to I ‘ The squire was known to be a very rich
man, yet no one suspected his wealth to be
«one-tenth of what it really is.
, “He was a quiet man in his way, an old
‘ bachelor, and lived in a rookery several miles

 

'«from here.

3 “His nearest relative was a lady by the
name of Dora Dean, afterward the wife of a
 farmer, Henry Sloan. She was Squire Ben-
'; .,son’s first cousin.”
' “And, may I ask, sir, in what way do I
hold interest in Squire Benson’s will and
kindred?” asked Darke Dangerfield somewhat
impatiently. .

“I am coming to your Interest in the case
"time, Mr.‘ Dangerfield; but I wished
T you to understand just how matters legally
3 stand, so that all will be of easy compre-
, hension.

“Now, Squire Benson left in his will all
property belonging to him, to the very man
who is said to have taken his life—Dare
Sloan, his second cousin and the son of Dora
1‘ Sloan, who was Dora Dean.

l
l

 

“He made his will in favor of this young
man, ‘then in parts unknown,’ so the will read,
but who was to be looked up by his execu-
tors, and the fortune given entire into his

«keeping. .
"If not found in five years, then the
property was to go to founding and endows

ing a charity hospital in, or near N——.

, ‘ If his heir was dead, the property was to
go to the same object, less a certain sum in
bank, which was to go to the support of his
cousin, Dora Sloan, provided she had not
married again; and in case of her marriage
or death, it was to go to charity.”

“This does not interest me in the least,
sir,” said Darke Dangerfield, severely.

“Now, sir, I come to a part that will in-
terest you, and, I regret, not pleasantly.

"In his will, Squire Benson left a perfect
list of all of his riches, real estate, and per-
sonal, and moneyed, and he also made a con-
fession.

“That confession was regarding his bro-
ther, who died, a few months after the squire’s
murder, in the West, and so is now beyond
the reach of the law.

“This brother, so reads the confession,
forged certain deeds and papers, claiming to

"."hold the Daisy Dell tract of land, then, also,
including the estate of Elmwood Hall, as

l
.l

-a...

of N——-— and thus covering the farm of the
father of Dara Dean, Ezra can.

“ This forgery of title left.the mother and
daughter of Ezra Dean penmless, as it were,
:and;t-‘he wife of Ezra dylng soon after, Dora
\was alone in the world, and married Henry
:Sloan. whose father, it seems, had also, by
i - or‘ged papers, secured possesswn of Elm-
! wood Hall. _

“ Now, old Mr. Sloan was .as innocent as a
, child in the matter, and, like Ezra Dea11,was
4 an the power .of this now dead forger, Rufus
' fBenson, the brother of the old squire.
“i. “The squire’s weakness was his love for
‘ "his rascally brother, and he always protected
"him in his acts, though never knowrng until
he had Rufus Benson’s dying confessron
that he was really criminal in his (ii‘t'tl.\

Ms... "A is

 

It

 

 

well as other lands in and around the town,

 

 

Hm“ r.,—x*a..» .
n. . «v _ ‘

The Gold Witch’s Shadower.

  

‘ rusv-WP -

.. ....... ,.., . . . . .4. .. ..,

 

 

 

“ Then he tried to make amends all in his
power b naming the son of Dora Dean his
heir, an , by a strange judgment, he was as‘
suesinated by his heir, who now, a fugitive
from the gallows, cannot enjoy his vast
estates.”

“ But my claim upon Daisy Dell?" huskily
asked Darke Dangerfield.

“ You have no claim upon it, I regret to
say, for the sale to you was a fraud,” was
the low but distinct response of the lawyer.

ClIAIY‘EIt VI.
'rnn mwrna’s REVELATION.

FOR along while the lawyer spoke no
word, for he saw that Darke Dangerfield
fully comprehended the situation.

And Darke Dangerfield certainly did com-
prehend that he had married an heiress to,
in the end, come down to poverty, while the
woman he had given up, Dora Dean, was
now the mother of a son who, did he dare
come to claim his inheritance, was tenfold
richer than he, Dangerfield, had ever dream-
ed of being!

At length he rosc and said:

“Mr. Stone, 1 think I understand the situ-
tion, but I wish my daughter to hear all you
have said, and more that I would learn from
on.”

y “Certainly, Mr. Dangerfield; and I am
pained to have to tell her bad news.”

Darke Dangerfield Went for his daughter,
and finding her among her flowers, said:

“Anita, my child, come with me, for I
have a visitor, a lawyer, who has certainly
brought us most unwelcome information.”

“ Brother Dean ?’.’ cried Anita.

“ It is not of that scamp: it concerns our-
selves, you and I, so prepare to hear bad
news."

“I am ready, sir," was the calm response,
and Anita accompanied her father into the
library.

“My daughter, Mr. Stone,” and the law-
yer bovved low, struck with the exquisite
beauty of the maiden he had to wound.

Anita returned his salutatiou and took a
seat near, while she said:

“My father tells me, sir, that you haVe
bad news ,for us.”

' “I am sorry to say I have, Miss Danger-
field,” and he went on to tell her just what
he had made known to her father.

“And may I ask, srr, how this interests
us?" she asked.

“The assumed sale of Daisy Dell, and of
Elmwood, by Mr. Ezra Dean anu Henry
Sloan, Sr., to Rufus Benson, was a forgery,
for both men died at the same time, or with-
in a few days of each other, while the wife
of Henry Sloan, Sr., was dead, and Mrs.
Ezra Dean soon followed her husband, so
that Benson was the possessor, through his
forged deeds, of the two estates and other
lands in and about N——— belo ing to the
two men whose heirs he thus cheated out of
their just inheritance.

“ Dora Dean, the daughten‘ he left penni.
less, and Henry Sloan, Jr.. found himself in
possession of his property with no knowledge
of the claim, forged though it was, that Rufus
Benson held upon it.

"Re, to get a real quit claim from Dora,
gave her athorisand dollars or so, and that
gave him her signature to his forged deeds.

“ Beforegoing West, as he was in financial
difficulties, Rufus Benson sold Daisy Dell
Manor; and, showing Henry Sloan, who had
married Dora Dean meanwhile, the forged
deeds, turned over to him, for a few thou-
sands in cash. the Elmwood pronerty.

“ Then he fled tu the West fen reasons best
knowu to himself. Neither of the sales, of
course, were legal. so your father, Miss
Dangerfield, loses the property he had pur-
chased, and especially as Squire Benson
shows a. prior claim to all the estates, of
which his brother never knev. .

“T110 Milli“) “'itS away at the time of his

 

and Lawyer Stone, who

 

\ / '

brother's rascalities, but suspecting all.‘upon
his return, kept quiet until Rufus Benson
made his confession.”

“ Then We do not owu Daisy Dell Manor,
or its belongings?" queried Anita with the
utmost calmness. .

“Not the mansion and lands, no; but the
furniture, your farm utensils and stock, yes.
The sale of the real estate being fraudulent,
all lands go to the heir of Squire Benson.”

“Dare Sloan?" quickly asked Anita.

H 3703-”

“And he is away.”

“ And dare not return to claim his vast
wealth—Elmwood Ilall, you know, being
also included with other properties belonging
to the two estates; and a very large fortune
besides, that Squire Benson Was the possessor
of, for he was a millionaire, Miss Danger-
field."

“And his heir is a fugitive millionaire!”
bitterly remarked Darke Dangerfield.

“ Yes, a fugitive from the gallows, sir,
and therefore, the hospital, after five years,
will get the entire property.”

“Not if Mr. Sloan should prove he was
not guilty of the murder of Squire Benson,
and should return ?”

“ In that case he could step into the imme-
diate possesslon of his riches, and, for his
own sake, I only wish that he could; but
the evidence was too positive against him."

“ Circumstantial evidence, sir, only, and
that frequently hangs the innocent man,"
was Anita's response.

“'l‘rue, very true; but Mr. Dangerfield, I
have stated the situatipn exactly, sir, and I
wish you would refer me to your lawyer,that
he may look into the full merits and demerits,
and see if there is not some plan by which he
can save you, though I tell you frankly I see
none.

“I was appointed by Mr. Benson, exucu-
tor, with “two others, but my absence in
Europe prevonted the matter coming up
sooner, though it was known generally
that Dare Sloan was the heir.

“ I looked the whole matter carefully over,
and really hoped, under existing circum-
stances of a fugitive heir and a charity hos-
pital as a (farmer ream-t, to find some crumbs
of comfort for on and your daughter.

“ But I couldy not, and yet, I will be most
happy to consult with your lawyer.”

“Judge David Verdun, sir, of N—-——, is
my lawyer; and Ithank you for your kind-
ness in the matter.”

“ Judge Vt-rdan is an interested arty also,
I find, for he bought the'Elmwood {all place
from the fraudulent agent, Loyd Lucas, so
he will try hard to find some flaw to save him-
self as well as you.”

Lawyer Frank Stone had shown himself to
be so gentlemanly and sympathetic that he
was urged to remain to dinner at the Dell,

and Mr. Dangerfield said he would then,

drive him into the town
Verdan.

The back was then dismissed with a note
to the judge asking him to be at his office at
a certain hour, and Lawyer Stone remained
at the manor.

Anita did not show what she felt by look
or word, and was as pleasant as though pov-
erty was not staring them in the face.

When she saw her father and Lawyer
Stone drive away together, she broke down
and threw herself upon the library sofa and
burst into tears.

CHAPTER VII.
HOMELESS.

IT was late when Anita heard the roll of
the carriage-wheels upon the gravel before
the mansion. '

She had become calm again, and assuming
a cheerful demeanor, greeted her father as
he entered.

He was accompanied b Judge Verdan

had, returned as his

to see Judge

guests for the night.

 

 
  

  
  

  
  
 
  
  
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
   
   
 
  
  
 
  
 
    
  
 
   
 

 
 
    
   
 
  

( 'Imally enjoy, ‘r

   
   
 
   
 
  

  
  

 

 

They had talked over matters in town,
but .wisiiod yet to look at Certain papers
which they had brought with them.

Lawyer Stone was a thorough business
man. and had come prepared for cvvry emer-
gency that might arise, so that much delay
was prompted.

Supper was Served, and the best wines
were brought forth. after which the three
gentlemen discussed matters over their ci-
gars. '

’l‘he Conclusion"l smiled at was just what
Lawyer Frank» Stonehad k nown'tbronghout
-—-the estates WOllitlllltLVC to be given up.

“Well, Anita, we ire poor now," said
' 'Darkc Dangerfield, w th 8. sad made, the

next morning. as all met at breakfast.
“ We certainly have plenty of company,
. father, in that respect,” was the cheerful
reply. and all admired the courage and spirit
of the beautiful girl in adversity. -
Darke Dangerfield accompanied the law-
ycrs into N———, when they left, and re
turned late.
He looked pale and haggard when he on-
' tered the library, and, throwing himself into
- a chair, said gloomily.’ .
" ." Well, my child, it is all settled, and I

will tell you how, for Law or Stone we
most kind throughout." . . , '
“ He certainly appeared so, t r.”

“ Yes. and proved himself so.

“ All [paidfor this place is a dead loss,
of course; but we have the furniture left,
our silver, Carriages, horses and stock. _

“ Then there is a great deal of provender
on the place. and a quantity of wines in the
cellar, but not half what I expected. as
your—Dean Dangerfield made way with
.them, as you t'lonbtless have learned.

“I made today a rough estimate, my
dear, and as we stay here until spring. we
can sell out by degrees, and ahead have at
least ten thousand in cash at e lowest
figures. ' ‘

.- “This will keep us from want; but on
remember the letter I received two
ago from my 'old partner. in the Colorado

'ncst?’ '1 . , ' r

“Yes, sir.” . ' ,r , ' '  ,

“ Well, he wrote me that his health was so
broken that he would give me his share in
the mine for six thousand dollars. ' ,

“ it is beginning to pay, he states, and if
he was able to work it himself there is a goo
deal of mono in it for us both. f

“Sol Wil buy him out, and while you
can go to the city to live, I will go to the
mines of Colorado and dig us out another
‘ fortune, for I am determined that you shall

{first be an heiress, my child,” and Darke
angel-field smiled and y.
“ Father, I will not
the West’with yoti,”, ‘_ .
. “You, Anita—myou. reared in the lap of
luxury, born with a silver spoon imyom‘
motilh. as they say, go to..that wild land ‘2"
, cried her father in amazement.
I“ Yes. sir. for you must .know that the

leave you, but go to

school where Igrat’uated tan‘ ht something ‘

, - else than what could he learnt: by bOoks.

.’ “ We weye. taught how to keep house.
clean sit-time, cook. wash, iron, and all that
was awful, and I flatter myself I could get a
good place now as housekeeper, while, it’ it

. .1 came to the worst, even do the. work cg,» .
’  kitchen girl.

 “Now, you have saidthat you never saw
. ., h heim- rider than; et- fand a ten-mile walk

   
  
  
   
 

7- i‘ “As 7' a fishcrwo 
and with shot-g .,-  '
have said, while. '
the panther 
4 3Mrs.- Sloan. that? ,

‘the beast Wasa'largo and savage one, rendered

,Jza‘m‘ alwaYs lucky,
 fle I'excel, as you
-.:-‘u .how I shot
bout tospring upon
in the graveyard. and.

    
 

49?; v

 V v, dangerous from having been tWO'.We.8k31fl‘.03=

I trfromhis cage in the managerie from whence
.::h-a:had escaped, you‘know. '

mys ‘

.. .‘iv‘; \-1 _.

I The Gold Witch’s Shadower.

“an

"No, father. Igo with you. I will i

must take your fine horse, and we will go all
prepared for roughing it in the Western
wilds. ‘ l

“ Why, I really enjoy the idea. for I can
keep house, or rather cabin; I can hunt and
fish to supply the table, and you can dig
gold 'in the mines!

“1.,think we will both be real happy,
fatgdpr, so don’t talk of leaving me be-
11in“, unless you wish to make me utterly
wretched.” ‘

She went to her father as she spoke, and,
leaning over the back of his chair, kissed
him, while she toyed withwhis dark curls,
just turning gray.’

“ Why, you are not ,so old, father; for see!
gra y hairs are scarce, and you don’t look a
day over forty. if so old.

“ I'll find it hard to make folks
you really my father.” ,1
And Anita laughed lightly. 3'

It. was hard for Darkc Dangerfield, strong
man that he was, to keep back the tears that
Welled up into his eyes, and for a moment he
could not speak.

Then he said, earnestly:

“ Anita, my child, you are as brave a little

believe

1“),

having such a daughter.

" It really makes me a better man to know
that you are my child.

“ I believe with you that it is best for yeti

. to go, for, though the work may be hard, I

know we will be the happier for it if to-
gether. I

“I will write'at once, accepting Gardi-
ner’s offer, and we will be on the field for
action with the early spring.”

'And so it Was decided. and neither father
nor daughter were crushed by the cruel blow
which through the fraud of others had swept
from them their riches.

CHAPTER VIII.
' ‘ mir- coon wrrcn AT HOME. .

In: the solituch of Colorado, there is a can
ypn‘ s'till known to-day as the Den of the Gold
\ itc 1.,

It was also called, at the time of which I
write, the Gold Witch’s Canyon, and then
there was no dwelling-place even an humble
cabin or mining-camp, within many miles of
it. '

 

mountains, Wild,=rug'ged and desolate. tfind
opened into a. valley through a. rqcky Est?"
way hardly forty feet in width; in fact it

as hardly more than a chasm. the Walls of
rock towering on either side a couple of hun-
dred feet above.

Enterin g this chasm one
rock y. trail which Could

The canyon penetrated a ridge of lofty

would go over a
not be ridden or

tended‘ for, several ‘ hundred feet into. the
“(if-£0. “ h ', suddenly turned to the right,
giving an, erver the idea that the canyon,
ended therofj I --
But. once around this turn, and though 1;
sides were rocky cliffs, the canyon 'spre ~
out. into considerable width. an formed a
fertile valley, watered by a stream that came
tumbling down over the mountain ridge some
three hundred feet above. I .
This brook ran through steep hanks, after
falling into the basin of the valley, ' and
sought an outlet under the walls of chill on
the other Side, bounding. into a huge cavern"
and disappearing from Sight. . _ I
At one place only was the brook fordable,
and even there it was. deep and the swiftly,
flowing current dangerous to any one who
did. not know exactly how? to head in cross.
ing, for a few steps one way or lithe other
‘Would‘canse a horse to lose his footing, and,
,in’ an "instant he would be swept between the

cavern beneath. the mountain to- death.
r‘ Beyond «his crossing the canyon was a

 

.; gofiisgoinwhen   A, ‘-   .

  

"lovely valley-with groves of trees, meadows _

 H .i i i - .
' 'and bits of picturesque scenery, all over-hurt“

 

my well—trained horse, Quickstep, and yo‘ '9

woman as I ever saw, and I am blessed in,

walked over except ins. slow‘walk, and ex- ,

 
   
 

‘ moss,

steep bankscf rockS-and thence on ‘ into the

     

Hm. -m.  on... T... . _- . V...” W....

by the high cliiis surrounding it.

There was a tiny i'iVulet here, from m
spring at the eanyon’s head, a small brooklet
there, and altogether the spot was a charming
one.

Hardly more than mile in depth, at the fur—
ther end of the canyon, sheltered by huge:
rocks, a grassy mound and a grove of trees
was a cabin, built against the face of the
cliff that towered far over its roof.

The cabin was some twenty feet long, by
twelve in depth, standing endways to the

cliff, and a doorway in the outer end. There ,

were two windows in the inner-room, but no
door, and one window in the outer-room. ~
Along the cliff, within a few yards of,thc
cabin, was a shelter, as for horses in bad.
weather and all in all, it,” a warm and
snug retreat. ‘ (lg-fr" ,ggzi' V
Down in a meadow nearé’has 3 Vegetable
garden; chickens roamed about the rocks at
_will, and a black and a white horse—-hoth
superb animals—were cropping grass‘not f
distant. . , “w-
On a patch by the side of the door 5.
raven, and on the back of a rustic seat 11:
parrot, while a huge black out w
herself upon a. rock near by. ‘

Lying upon the top of apntural mound; I

i

from the summit ' which widow of the can-
yon to its mouth , , bemoan, was an enor—

mou’s dog. He  not asleep, se, 7 in .to“

be on duty, as his eyes: were upon 1:".52”
before spo en of.

two trees near the cabin, and in it was a
human form, while a dog lay asleep near

iy. -

The door of the cabin was 0p?n.fland
through." it could be seen that the Interior
was by no means uncomfortable. ‘ '

and shelves with cooking utensils find dishes,
With a table in the center of the room-- 4

Shelves on either side of the WinilOW‘I"rt«'fKaz,,
posrte the fireplace, contained books. Dapepgf

 
 

“man's

TM

or hat
the c:
with 1
cutiix
destrt
place

A i

from
dwc‘.

' Ol‘llitl

Ahemmockof dry grass swdng betn'een, '

 
 
 
   
  
  

as suphiig-t .  f

1 Ii”

There was a large fireplace on “"6 side, ‘

.FL,
1..

 

exeit
the v
pesst

'l‘l

not 5
the l
Valli
'_ Ute:

specimens of rocks, and a number 0f1fl1d$W 

and ends picked up about,,the mountakistg“. ,‘
There was a rack holding a repealing-rifle.

knife hung in holsters near.  ‘ :9}: .
A large chair, cushioned with moss and“
most comfortable, was bythe side of the-

table. and completed ’the Waking” of the - I 1» 

A? i
4.

room. ,
Opposite the entrance door was 8,; liner, 3.
very narrow one.

closed. ‘

Had it been open, it w uld have

glass in them.
the long valley grass, a «few shechs. an;
easy-chair. and against thq rear Wle a
or berth, like those in a. ship scabin.

 The bed therein was home-made, evidciibh‘ét,
. for it had a canvas mattress stifled“st 

 
  

c



that mtched‘the'mattress.. _ ,
l ,The bunk was rather high, and was fit

It led into the is gaping;
room of the odcupant of the cabin‘;"bui was 1,

revealed}

a room of the same size as the <>tlitir.,ant:t,j~: 
with t‘wo windows, but of course wah' ncv'-- 

and, several blankets, with a pillow:

  
 
       
 
   
   
 

i.

.n.-

and shotgun, and several rave:erers 4m} a; 

 

If


A rude matting covered the floor, made stir; 
bunk-:1.“  3

{

 

strongly against the log wall of 'thcgcabfi
and arranged" With some attempt'éat' 0
,mental curtaining. ,- 

. The one who=was resting, era-sleep, inh
hammock outside was the solemccupantt'ot
this solitary abode in a Colorado 68511.?th

As she arose from the Wmmk. a. gig
,Was suflicient to showtho, reader one whp
he has metbefore. -,."    ' 5

Her half-militar . halfr‘bfirbamns att' '

  

Ԥ
_ , .
.191

  

vealed the mysi‘e‘ onsw‘omsn“ wn .a

Gold Witch, and be wassnthomei, *
.  '  2.1. . '(Ji
CHAPTER 'I'X'

 
 

scan sheen miles 

 

 Geld? Witch in her lonely c ,
yum-mm valley in w to 

1 {ll

1.

K. xv.

     
   
   
   
     
    
  
 

  

    
  
 
    
   
 
   
 

  

 
 
   
 
 
 

     
   

   
     

     
  
    
  

 

 

1""  “"0“-‘ ' .
m‘b; " :fiunihg-camp known l‘y the title of Dead-
l‘1],"man’sllen. .
fro SJ This Valley was a beautiful one to look at, ‘
‘m '21 ’or had been when in its natural beauty, but
itro- "f the cabins of the miners scattered about it,
‘ mmg ,wtth a group oi" houses in one part, and the
cutting down of timber here and there. had

 

     
 

he fur” destroyed the picturesque loveliness of the
y'h‘lge , place.
f ""99 A legend explained that it had its name
0f the from the fact that a tribe of ,llle Indians once
dwelt there, and who were known to wear
{’f’tll’y ‘ ornaments made out of beaten gold, which'
,Th .10 exerted the envy or other tribes who went on
but?” .I the war-path to drive the Lites out and take
m ‘0' possession ofithe valley themselves.
of' n ‘ 'I‘liis§.“dr1v1ng'out ” process, however. had
’ m " not seemed to have worked Well, to Judge by
n budl the number of skeletons scattered about the
 and Stall " f hostile warriors slain in battle or oi
‘ I 1 Uleti  lendintrthen' homes and gold pock-
etable Lots. "
cfiifgiv ! 'The trail through the vale was studded

 

' " With these grim' relics of death, and graves
' innarked and unknown were here and there
~"  _.uupleasant frequency to remind one of the
l ltd of man.

{There was yet another legend about this

   

' r

m, a ,ggvaney, to account for its name, that a bahd

"  of roudhgents, under a noted chief, had hea rd
“URL I that, the lumen dwellers there knew of secret
“fig? gold-minesmnd that this road-agent chict‘ be.-

camc their ir'etendedjtriend. have them pres-
i ‘91s...“euts amdflerl them entitle war-‘path after the
v "m  scalps of white settlers, thus gaining their
confidence.

Veenl ? Then, he and his men had given their
’35 a  chiefs and leading warriors a grand enter-
near‘.  'tainment and the result was a. general poiSon-
  ing. after which the outlaws set upon the
3}“1 2' i’ remnant of- the Indians, the old men, Women
“‘10? l _.f and children; and drove them in dismay out
.  ~  of the valley.
Ides :3 ’The bodies of the poisoned chiefs and
nest braves Were left unburied, to become food

  

* T-"for wolves, while the outlaw .band set to
1"invert: to find the goldmines and pockets of

"the Utes. r ,i

 ‘But, the picking they got from pile dead

7 .v was all the gold they found, and they camped

 1 ill the place forwoe is hunting" for the golden

" ' treasures. - ' '

Whomght their

 

  

 

  

icamp was attacked by a
company of cavalry. A terri‘ic battle fol-
.gflchd. The outlaws were killed, or cap-
? timed and hanged, thus dotting the vale and
annuities with‘ more graves.

 Yeas; passed, and the .fatal valley was
shunned by red-skins, and palefaces alike,
r indie. band of dating miners, with the gold-

  

 

  

 

 

s; - lover strong uponrthem, sought the seeming-
?“ - I ‘ac'cUrsed spot, and, so to speak, pitched
We ~ .1: eir tents. , » l '
 . Liv-From them it received the appropriate
  ‘name of Deadman's Den. - I ‘

l: ‘ Working the bills.“ mountains, water-

      

, .7 ‘ -,' houses and canyons, the hardy miners found
I“  tgold, and Deadma‘u’s Den“ developed into
 what, in“ mining parlance, was called a city,
and Dc-adman’s City was as often .‘applied to
the settlement as was llie‘name of Den. L737"
"rq‘ho “‘ city ” consisted of a, string , 
remains, some along,' a, water-course; others
, W on the hills, and a score or, , more
grouped together at a’ central point. '
.. At the latter there were several alleged
.. , “Haematwo blacksmith shops. a barber
‘anop, four stot'eS, keeping anything and
- ' g- fmm a pick to drugs. and a dozen
’s” which were also gambling~dens as
’ 'l .
.. 3 man’s Den. or “Den City," 383180
., was called, then-aware, perhaps; four hour
fired soul‘s} or» an average of that number, for;
, 5 wwwk'f‘sudden death ” would reduce the
 imputation by a score, and the next a ‘few
Renewiaflnls would come in and add to_-i\t 50
Waste keep up the average- ‘

  

   
     
     
  

  

.4,

      
    
 

   

   
   
  

  
  

 
   
 
 

 
 
  
 

started: tbe‘Deadman’s Den inhabit-

The Gold Wi

.»fi¢_mnsflcd With a score of burying-places ,

(urn.-

dun-(vu‘na Wm  ‘
I, ' A

p

,‘V'soynethingr they could point to with pride as

,~ air own work. ,

’ " Of course they had to furnish the material
for their “lionery,” as they called it, but
with those wild Spirits this was an easy
matter, and the graveyard was opened with
a dozen victimser a 'starter.

This will give a faint idea of the lawless-
ness of Deadman‘s City. and when the hotels,
stores and saloons got to going at folk-blast,
and the. miners found gold in payinfiktmmui.
ties, the valley settlement became di‘Yply
place for all who made it their home. "‘7

Such was lh-adman's l)errwheu, on,l fier-
noon, the Weekly coach rolled into tfi'vit -
lcy, and drawinlg up before the door of the
ln'meipal hotel.‘,known as the “ l’ards’ Para-
dise," deposited tvwo travelers who appeared
a little out of the usual run of the visitors to
the valley.

They were dressed more like city sports—
men, who had come West fora hunt on the
plains, or in the mountains. than like miners
o'r borderim-n. and their appearance indicated
that they were not wholly ‘-‘ at home ” in that
wild Country. '

l’nt Leech, the proprietor of the Pards'
Paradise, had a, strange register, for it was
nothing more than a board in which the
month was cut at the top, and beneath it the
words:

"‘ Pincmus T0 I’Auns’ I’AuAiitsi-z.”

Then followed the names of the “pil-
grims” who had been guests during the
month, all neatly cut into the wood—4n
fact, carved mostskillt‘ullv by a young man
who made his livingr in Dearluian's Den by
just such work, :arviog headboards and
signs.

‘Eueh month's tablet was laid aside, so that
l’at Leech had something tolook back to
when he wished to dis-Cover any particular
guest \‘. in) ll‘til (,njwytfll, (d' Hll’ft'l'tfd, his hos-
pllulity, m the ease mi;th be, forthe pro-
prietor of Purth l’arad'ise was a leech by no.-
in re as Well as by mime, though the miners
had made a saint of him, calling him “ Saint
Patrick” on account of his very piouscx-
pression, which hid it very devilish heart be-
neath. '

The two new-comers were met b Saint
Pitt, as the miners abbreviated the name,
and welcomed, while he took them itr at a
glance. \, _ '

" Here, xPenknife Pete, register these
gents’ names, while I shows ’cm to tha’r
catxi;_lin’-plaee.‘ Yer names, gents!” and
Saint Pat turned to his guests with what he
meant for a winning smile.

The nine addressed as Penknife Pete was
the‘ wood carver, and a better picture of a
poet i-n‘distress, one who had descended to
tramping, could not be found.

He wore his hair- long, a. Mcphisto-like
mustache and a coat which looked as though
it might have done service in a Presbyterian
pulpit; buttoned up to his cw; ‘

He had a high but, around Wlhih had been

. placed as a lmt-lmnd,,a strip fof wood into

V‘ which had been cut the words, showing dis-
tinctly‘ with the black hat for a background:

“ PEN KNIFE PETE,
’\ ' ” ARTIST. ”

His slender waist was encircled by a belt.
in which were stuck hisearving utensils, and
the Wps the only man in Deadman’s Den who
did not wear revolvers and a bowie, for if he

did'they were not in sight, I , .
-H1s pants were stuck into top-boots, and
if Penknife Pete had any other property save
xbatithe carried about him no one had found
.. on "' _ _ v , ‘ I ..
In ‘a'ri‘hark‘ from the tombs” sort of a:
Voice. deep and _oepulchr‘al."he asked:  '
“Your names, cats. and whar from ‘2”

 

 
 

 about one all for themselves; ,

  

meaning We . and shove said; _, _

't ., r

" "'r mm.m..'mzbu.‘ .

tch’s Shadower.

been seen, stopped over in Chicago for a ’7  W

their pockets. chuckling the while that they I, o. ‘.

" 4 The “ innoccnt” miners did not see-in as

~ . nothin

The twomen poked at each otherin‘d , _
’ ..  ', ,andtherethey ‘ ged . . 
‘ ’duroy. pantsuits -. shoofingiieclieifimlsuch.

 

"‘ l.

w"

         
    
   
  
  
    
   
   
  
    
 
  
  
   
    
   
    
    
  
 
   
 
  
 
    
  
    
  
   
   
      
     
      

“ And yours, sir?"

" llurt llr-nry. of Virginia."

The two men r ere the forget‘ and scape-
graen llt‘nll imagerheld, and his partner in
raseality lleury or llal llorton. They had
metamorphosed their names to please. lllt‘lil-

selves. ;
ya H é

(lllAl’Tl'Zli X. ‘ ' ' 

s'rnANoicns 1N l'fl-JADMAN’S DEN. “
AF’l‘Eu his having,r forged his father’s name i _
to acheek, to gut twelve thousanddollurs, ’  
Dean Dangerfield dared-not seek the father 
he had so wronged anddisgraeed ,. . . “a , . f'

,1

Ills sister, Anita, as we have alrez "stated,
had paid oil? his note attire bank in N , ’
also forged, and also settled his numerou ‘{ ‘ *
debts, so that left him safe from arrest unr L
prosecution. Then he had been well fitted
out for his Western trip, for-she had seen no
reason why he should not go to join his fa—
ther. who was then in the West, working his 3
mining properties. ‘ v .. ,2
, But. Dean Dangerfield had no idea of her ’-
ing set to work in the mines; nor did he in»  ‘
tend to go West with the money he had ob- '
taincd from his sister through assuming to
owe it to Henry Burton for a loan which
Burton had made him.

He wanted Silll more, so that, with his
chum Burton, his allv in crime, deception
and fer-gery on his own aunt .nml' the large
sum they thushctually had between them,
they could laugh at misfortune and lead a
wild life. ,

Dean had no thought that his own father
would prosecute him about the forged check,
and oil of his other deeds he‘had, us he sup-
posed, covered up. ' ‘

But, llal Burton was well aware that his
own ()ltlAllilli. would send him to prison for. ,y K
forcing her name; even had he been her .4
0th son, so he knewthat he must. keep in.
hiding. , 

The two had changed their names, as has

9

 

  

couple of days, and in a gaiublinc den there,
lost Considerable of their crime-gotten
money. ‘ _

‘Then another halt had been made in '
Omaha, and there, too, they had bad luck, \. '
so they had decided to strike for the mining 
country withan idea that they could , lay "
their marked cards upon the innocent to hers 
and make a fortune for each of them.

With a couple c 1’ thousand dollars in his
boot-leg, and a. few hundreds in his lpoeket,‘ , .i
the unworthy son of Darke Dangerfield a‘nd' '
Hal Button, (the latter also keeping some _
money hidden from his friend,- and thus each 1
deceiving the other) started by coach for '
Denver and thence to the mines near Dead-
ma‘n‘s Den; , , \(5.

()n the way they were halted by road- _
agents and, in spite of all their, blu‘ster as to .‘
what they would do under such..oircum- 
stances, simply handed over the money in u.

       
 
     
    
   
        
       
      
       
    
  

  
    
 
      
 
  
     
      
       
  

had saved that which they had hidden in, fig“ 
their boots. .  " -' , 't-f'V
'l‘hcy traveled as “gentlemen,” hunting . 
rand goingr about for pleasure in the Wong 
and their outfit would carry out this sasrmp-I.  ;.
tion. - . , ,'  ,‘—_
{They were a little taken aback upon trrivg 
ing at Deadman’s Den to see that they had F? '
not created any very great excitement. ‘ ‘ _

        
   
  
 
 

impressed as the two oung adventurers bad if‘
expected they would} 0. - * \t . 
But, th ’followed‘ltho landlord to.a__.lo:g: ,,
cabin in t _0 rear of; the hotel. which hadnu
table, Ltwo chairs,~  banks, and in the 
latter a grass that!” ‘ and pillow each! 
void of sheets or shim ‘, onmincrs tarnished? 
their own blanketsflaridi' 4 ,
of the kind - they must pay]; extra;


'for we luxuries. , f i , .a  
take totlteir- cabin”.

          
    
 
   
     
   

    
    
   

  
 
  

)3 
Their traps they had .to ,
themselves out i

 
 

   
 

, r

         

€175
_ , .

..*t'

 
   
  
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
 
  
  
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
       
     
   

  

    
  
     
       
     
       
     
       
     
   

  
 

. stretched across one

 

 

 

hats, handsome
arms.

This done, they sallied forth to view the
“town,” and asked Saint PM for a. key to
their cabin as they passed out through the
“hotel.”

” Key be durnedl Ef yer catch anybody
goin‘ inter yer cabing, or comin‘ out, shoot
hiiu..that’s all, for nobody hes got any biz
thar, pards, and we don’t look up in this
kentry. We only shoots ther thief.”

“A queer country, Burt,” concluded his
chum.

“ Yes, not such fools, Dan, as we took ’em
for,” returned Burt Henry—as we now must

 

cavalry boots, and belts of

I .fgcall him and his companion by their bor-

rowed names.

There was a look about Deadiuan's Don
and its denizens that impressed the two
strangers with an idea that they would not
like the place; but their money would not
last them if they ran around all the time and
did not add to it. so they must see what was
to be done there before pulling up stakes
and decamping. 1

Upon their return to the hotel, they found
their names most skillfully carved into the
wooden register; in fact, Penknife Pete had
surpassed himself. ‘

“Like it. gents?" he asked, as the board
was hung up fdr inspection. " x

“It is beautifully done,” declared Dan

‘ Field

“Indeed it is, sir; you are an artist,” added
,Burt Henry.

“ I knows I are a artist, pard; but who
pays for this?"

“ The landlord, of course.”

“Ther landlord pays fer nothin‘; his biz
are ter take pay." ~

"‘ Is 't to be paid for?" asked Dan.

“‘ Now d6es i. look like a man who worked
for love 0’ my teller-citizens?”

Their question was answered, and as they
saw a crowd gathering they decided to pay,
so Dan Field asked:

“ How much ?”

“Five dollars.” ' ,

lie handed it over and they were turning
away. when the artist called out:

“Pard, you is forgetful.”

“ Me?" asde Burt ixlenry.

“‘ Yas, you hain‘t paid me.”

“‘ Was not that pay for both ‘1”

"‘ Pard, does I look like a fool?"

Whatever were Burt Henry's thoughts, he
did not utter them, but handed out five dol-
lars with a sigh, while Penknife Pete re-
marked: . ‘ .

_ “If yer tarns up yer toeshere. gents: I‘ll
make a liberal discount in carvin’ yer head-

/

' boards. and I’ll cut in a leetle angil climbin’

a croSs on 'em free for nothin’. for 1 hain’t

got no mean streak in my body.” .

' The two friends were not so pleased with

this act of generosity as Penknife Pete had
seemed to expect them to be. .

Saint Pat now called them to supper and

’ they were glad to see that Whatever the other

shortcomings of Deadmans Den. the table

‘ of the Pards’ Paradise was certainly a good

one, as fares it could be so distant'i‘rom any

’ place where delicacies.could be obtained.

, . But. if Saint Pat set an excellent table, he
charged accordingly—as the young men soon

. .. discovered.

iAftcr, supper the two guests being invited
to. indulge in the only amusement in the
place“, that of gambling, they adjourned to
,the saloon adjoining the hotel, and which"
was also owned b Patrick Leech.

; There was a ru 8 “ table of chance” there.
and many small table]; where card-players
, could enjoy a game ,together, while a bar
end of the large room. ‘
_, . Tobacco-smoke, a cursing, .loud~talking
crowd, and the fumes of liquor filled the

 

"’;y.room,._.as the two young men entered with.
-‘~,f‘-'the=landlord, who at once picked out for

'rthém two partners‘for a game of cards.
These partners were honest miners, whom

y, _
V. ~ ~

they continued to win.
' 'l

 

the landlord knew would play a square
game, for ic did not wish to frighten the

strangers off by pitting them against some when to ckpect her no one. knew.

of the terrors of the place at. once.

The revenue‘to the landlord was so much
for -ach game played, and the table of
chance was generally sure to win fur him
nine times out of ten, so Saint I’at, as be put
it, never “got left.”

Those present glanced at the strangers as
they ntered, and several side remarks were
overheard, such as:

“‘ Pigeons to be plucked!”

“Tenderfeet that will have to pan out
lively.”

The table at which the two strangers were
seated was up near the bar, where 'Saint
Plat could have a good View of all that took
I) ace. '

Of the strangers Dan Field won steadily
from the start. He was playing partner
with one of the miners; but. though Burt
Henry and the other lost. neither seemed to
mind it until Field suggested:

“Perhaps you Would play better together,
so suppose we change partners 2*”

This was done and the strangers were pit-
ted against the miners, and the stakes soon
became heavy. ‘

But the luck of Dan Field clung to him,
\vgliere that of his former partner deserted
b m. .

At length quite a sum of gold . 'as gather-
ed iu front of the strangers, Who seemed
elated with their luck‘nand the miners drew
out. I '

Others took their place promptly. but the
luck of the strangers could not be broken and
hen their opponents gave it up and two
more took their places.

These two were noted as the luckiest men
in the camps..-but their good fortune seemed
to desert them when pitted against the
strangers, and after losing. heavily one
said: , .

" I guess you is reg‘lar card-sharps, pards.

for, somehow, yer seems ter hev your, way in

winnin’.. We quits. ” ,

As they rose from the table a voice that
Was st ngely low and musical said: ,

“l‘l play you both, gentlemen, so see if
your lyck holds good against me.”

,All' turned quieklyand the strangers seem-
ed fairly to start, for the one who addressed
them was a woman!

She had entered the saloon, unnoticed. in
the excitement the game with the strangers
had caused.

——
«

CHAPTER XI.
rU'r TO The new AND UNMASKED!

“ Tun Gold M'itcli!"

Such was the low murmur that ran around
the gambling-saloon as the woman stepped
forwardafter saying, in a voice whose “1118i-
cal tones certainly belied her appearanCc, that
she would play against the luck of the stran-

ers.
g It was in reality the strange woman Who

had become a (chllel‘ in the solitary canyon ‘

miles from Deadman's Den! ;

But, she Was known ,to every man in the
camps and' most thoroughly dreaded by one
and all.

Many believed her possessed of supernatu-
ral powers, but there were numbers who
sought herald in finding gold fortbem and
paid her large sums for the favor. , I

By some mysterions'way, known only'to
herself, the Gold Witch more often hit a gold
lead, than not, and so held her influence.

To play against her at cards, the miners
found that it was simply throwing money
away. 

She always won. _

But there were few who dared refuse her
invitation to play when she singled them out
as re victim, although they knew the conse-

guences; ,_ .

The Gold Witch’s Shadowe’r,

l
l
1

she had lost. i

 

 
      

I).

_ .. mum“-.. _... WV mm...”

The visits- of the Gold \Vitch- to Dead-
man‘s lleu “ere semi-monthly, but just

She might come twice in one vveek~two
days in succession—and again once and miss ' A
a week; but she never put in an appearance
more than twice in the month. ‘

Now as she appeared in the saloon all were
startled.

They always were startled when she came,
and now all glanced from the Gold Witch to I
the strangers with considerable interest. for
they saw that. the two young men Were
singled out by the woman for her victims. "-

Both Dan Field and Burt Henry looked i
confused. , . /

The woman stood gazing at them with
her piercing eyes, seeming to read their very ,

thoughts. ‘7“,
of 8119:?”er ‘ ‘

V

She were her strange attire,
velvet skirt. top.boots and spurs, nillitary
jacket and slouch hat, with the grim death’s-
head pin and stuffed-snake oord.

Then she was armed. as tlteyfsaw, and car— ,
ried in her hand her staff. ' fl,»

‘Nor was she alone. for upon one shoulder ,
sat the parrot, and upon the other the raven, ::
ng10 the huge bloodhound stood by her ‘
s1 0. g,
“ I never play with wom—ladies,” at last ”  7
gasped Dan Field.  r >

“No, we play only for "s
gamble with the fair sex, ’
Henry. . - '

“Then to night you make an exception, , ,-
for you play wtth rue—the pair of you '
against me.” ‘* . ' -

The words were determined, but the tone
was soft and musical.

“Who is she?" whispered Field to Saint
Pat. ‘ 1,

But the latter dared not answer, for he ",2."
saw that the woman had divined or heard the . . l;-
ques-tior. . r’ f 

“Whoam I? i ,

“Well, men in these parts call me a Gold
Witch, and I am a fortune-teller.” ‘ , ,

“The days of such superstitious ideas have
played out. There are no fortune tellers
HOW.” Said Dan Field. ,5 ' . _ .
“ lla! you doubt my power, ‘30 you, young " ‘ 
man ‘2" ' _, i, 

‘ l-do.” ' 2 ’5‘."-

“Then I‘ll prove itl '- ’54, ‘

,“(lome. we’ll play three games, and you .  i
will win the first one. the two of you I mean; '
for I will play alone hand against the two,
and I will win the next two; now see if I am «
not right.” >  1

The game was soon begun, the woman '  
having taken her seat facing the two;   is; L
strangers. ; ’ " " "";"

“You win. as I said,” she remarked quiet~' .
ly. shoving toward them the hundred dollars .. , ‘

rt; Two never
echoed Burt

)

     
       
        

“It was a guess of yours,‘for we shall win, -.  A ;-.
the next two,” Burt Henr remarked. ,
The woman smiled an put up two-hum
dred dollars. ' ~, _
The sum was at once covered and the Gold,
Witchwon. , 3 '-
Tbe miners laughed and the two strangers,
glanced uneasily at each other; '
Then the Gold Witch said:
“ Five hundred this time.”- ‘ A " 
The money was put up and once more 
Gold Witch won. v ‘
A shout of approbation greeted the was t. I I
man’s proof of her‘prophecy, and. settled by Q: '
it, Dan Field said: . ' '5  "
“ It was but a guess."‘
“Do you think so?" ' H
u Yes-n I - . L“.- '>
i“ I’ll bet that'I 'can guess Your name.”  .- 
“ You have seen it on the tablet in’ 
hotel.” ' ' ' - *
“ I refer to your ownI name. That 18' 

your real name.” ’ . , . 
hem 

 

 
    
    
      
  
  
      

v q‘ “

     

  

   
   
     
  
    

“You only say'so~ because out
always changextheir names.” . 
“ Those that do have good reasons,

y I ,



    

a.

   
 

   

> v» .,. Una-fin man.

vw

i

The Gold Witch’sShadower.     .

   
      

 

 

   
 

-do1ng. ’ I’ll'bet you a hundred dollars that I

 

can tell you your names, both of you.”
“Done! but remember, they must be the
No names we were christened under, for I ad-
isg . ,9 mit, to avoid‘newspaper notices about our
ce hunting trip out West we have changed our
names.”
re V A laugh from the miners greeted‘this, and
.', the woman looked Dan Field straight in the
e, ' face for a full minute.
to - ' Then she covered her face with her hands
at in a tragic manner and bent her head until
re“ .  the slouch hat fell off and her long waves of
 gray hair fell about her like a bridal vail.
rd “ Place your hand upon my head,” she
.- ; said. .
h . a I Dan Field did so, but with a'feeling of awe
y . \   in spite of his look of bravado. . _
 , “ Murder!” slirieked the parrot in a vmcc
d ‘ v ‘ ‘ that startled all, while the raven crooked
y. i o 'nously and the huge dog raised his head
3- a3 uttered a long-drawn howl.
,  . "It is Dean Dangerfield Whose hand is
3- ,7 ' 21 upon my head, and his hand is stained with '

human blood,” cried the Gold Witch.
The man shrunk away from her as though
she was a snake, While his face became

 

.. 7 ‘ livid.
  , She did not move, but addressed the
t ’ "i ;j.' other. . ., ‘
~ '- , “I hai're had enough of this tomfoolery,”
r,   cried Burt Henry; so come, Dan, let us
Q on

“‘ Yes, go, Dean Dangerfield, you and your
friend in crime, Hal Burton, go hide your-
selves further in the wilderness than is Dead-
m n’s Den,” and the woman burst out into
- nficking laughter, as the two young men,
V  . rnow white-faced and trembling with (fear,
 . hastily left the saloon. ' .

 i " ' They went to their cabin and gazed at each
 other in dismay.

. “My Godt who is she. Burt?"

l “ Dan. I do not know.”
2 i “ We cannot stay here ‘2”
7 “ No, that is certain.”
'  “ The stage starts back at dawn, I
‘ heard.” ~ ‘

“ We’ll take it.”

“We will.” _

Little did the sleep that night, and when
the coach rolle 'out of Deadman‘s Den the
next morning in the early dawn, it carried as

'. inside passengers the two fugitives from jus-
,, .,~tice, who were flying from dread of the Gold
‘ - " Witch-flng, but to go where they did not
\   know! I ,

i -“

 

 

 

CHAPTER XII,
, THE wrrcri’s waanmo. .
THnOverland stage-trail out of Deadman’s
, Den ran about five miles from the canyon
where the Gold Witch had her home, and it
was 21thin a pleasure to Overland Jack, as
the driver was called, to tell of the rays-tori-
- ous fortune-teller. ~ V
' On the run In. the day beforenothers had
been on the box Wlth him, 50 that, the two
' ,friends had inSide seats. -
~ They had chosen these on .leaving Dead-
 man's ‘Den also, not Wishing to besee‘n by
‘many more persons than could be helped.
. A. As they wheeled‘ out of the valley Jack
 I called down to them: ' .

 
 
 
 

“Pards, you is losm' views «scenery thet

 
 
 

a" n ‘

 .V'I‘he did 'so, and Jack,- who had retired to
‘  Vuspon reaching the Pard's Paradise the
A ...eve1‘iing before,iknew nothing of what had
‘ ‘ occurred in the saloon at'night,» so said:
' - “Does yer see ther high mountain point
(We: onder?"  :

' .u p

      

   

“ That are jist in front 0' ther canyon o’,

’< ,17’t‘h‘erepid Witch.” '

     

irzm‘ind‘

. »

  
  
 
 

 

 can’t be ekal’d, 80 git “P 011 thugbox with?

; The twoi'men started, and J ehu Jack went

1:: * = = ‘ .- ' '
his“ my, woman as can read ‘a_man’s"
same  it, were, a b00k‘. She km tell '

 

jist whar ther gold are, and I tell yer she are
a rm and no mistake.”

"i -' Vlio is she?" ventured Dan Field.

“ 'I‘lier Lord only knows. pard. She-come
to these parts some time ago and she are ther
Queen Bee 1101'“. now, and folks is as skeered
o’éier as though she were ther devil his-
se .

“I shouldn’t mind of she were on ther
trail now, fer she often heads the off tcr. see
who 1 has along.”

Busy with his horses and his story of the
mysterious woman, Jack did not notice how
pale his passengers had become.

“She was in l')eadman’s Den last night, I
heard,” returned Burt Henry. ‘

“ Then she was tliar fer a purpose, for she
allus is, and, ten ter one we sees her—— Thar!
what did I tell yer?"

As the coach rolled around a bend in the
trail, there was visible, but a few rods away,
the Gold Witcli‘!

She was mounted upon her blac , horse
and had along with her the parrot, th‘ raven
and the large dog. . i

The two men would have, given much to
have been able‘ to turn away, but it was too
late, and at a motion from the woman Jack
drew rein, for he I was as afraid of her as
though she was indeed a witch.

“ Well, Dean Dangerfield and Hal Burton,
I ran you out of Deadman's Den did I?” ,

“ Some it! You have but one course be-
fore you and that is to take to the road. Go
your way now; but we will meet again!”

As she spoke she rode up to the coach and
with a piece of red clay. which served as
chalk, made a cabalisticzsign upon the door

anel. .1‘ ‘
p Passing around to the other side she did
the same; then she halted a minute at the
boot of the coach whercon a third sign was
made '

n Go!" ,

As she uttered the
a hurry. 

“Curse the old hag,” he muttered. “ I

a

word Jack drove off in

never‘have her cross my trail and mark my

coach that bad luck don’t come to me.
‘ ‘ Now the last time she marked ther coach,
ther roarlsagents kilt one o’ my pilgrims and

robbed ther balance.

“ One time it were my best horse died on
me, another time my axle broke in ther
mountain pass; then again I were wounded
from a unseen foe.

“Pards, Iis afeerd we is in for trouble
this run, and I heerd as how ther agents
nabbed yer afore yer reached my drive, on
ther trip in.”

"Yes, we were robbed; but is there no
way we can escape being" robbed this time?”
anxiously asked Dan Field.

“I don’t say we is to be held up by ther
agints, pards; but I does remark that when-
ever tlier Gold Witch do make them signs on
my old hearse, tliar is some trouble sure ter
foller. She don’t like me nohow, for I cussed

her one night at Deadman’s when I were full '

o' bug-p’izetn”,
The two passengers were certainly alarmed.

,A man with a guilty conscience is never easy

in mind. and sin makes one in a measure
superstitious.

In the past the two men woiild have

ldughed. at the idea of a pretended witch
possessing supernatural power; but now
they had changed their minds, for she had
given them their real names; and more: she
had let, fall an awful accusation against Dean
Dangerfield! I ‘ ' -.
Now .she had threatened them, assuring
them" that they would have a bad ending,
and that she would meet themagain,
hey were thoroughly slat-tired, and ,re-
memberi'ng her words, Burt Henry asked:
' “What did'she mean by saying that we
would take to the road?” .
“Now, ards. you’is oneommon green 'ter
ax that. Vhy, she --meant yer would do

whdtlmany another good man thev hed ter

1 ‘.

' a silence at once fell upon the crowd.

   
    
   
 
  
   
 
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
   
   
  

do in these parts—that is, take ter ther trails
as a road-agent.”

“ A higliwayinan‘?’

“Yas, highwayman or low-wayman, it’s
all ther samefl

“ Nonsense I’ We are gentlemen and have
honor.”

“ Waal, cf yer is gents and hain't got
nuthin’ but honor ter support yer, then in
idee is'that yer’ll 80011.901116 to it, for its
work, starve or steal in} Q parts.

“ But has yer much V , an yenclothes?”

“ You mean gold?” “i i

” sart,iil.,’ {w WHn

“ We have a little for ctr traveling ox-

enses,” was the cautious reply of Burt.

“ Waal, I truly liOpes we’ll git through all,
right; but I warns yer tliet ther agents is ‘
wide-awake along this trail.” v '

“ Are there many of them ?"

“ Pard, yer never knows how many ontil
yer has handed over yer dust and other leetle
presents yer may hev about yer.” '

“ Could we not resist them?”

“ Maybe; but of yer does want ter try, jist-
let me git down and walk by.” ,

“Oh no, we are strangers here and we .
leave all to you, and suppose we will have ‘
to put up with the loss of a little money.”

“ Yas, if they holds us up, jist count yer a
money as gone at keerds. ‘-

“ Now we is gittin’ near thcr ran e, whar.
of we is to be held up, we will ," and=
Overland Jack nerved himself to meet what
he had often had to meet before; while his
two passengers were white and quivering
with fear. ,

 

    

, CHAPTER - XIII. ,,  
THE GOLD wrrcn’s‘UNEXPEorEn VISITOR. 'x.

'Tma Gold Witch paid her second visit to
Deadman’s Den the third day following her. ‘
going there when her presence had so quick-‘
ly frightened the two fugitives from justice .
cut of the camps. , '1 \

She learned that there was excitement ‘ ‘
above the average in the camp, as soon as .
she drew near the Pard‘s Paradise, for a large ' ,
crowd had gathered there although it was a. . , ,
week day. 4 v

At her riding up to the hotel, accompanied
by her vicious-looking bloodhound and, par- 1
rot. and now mounted upon her white horse,

    
       
   

 
 

        
     
     
     
       
     
      
          
    
       
        
    

The were anxious to say nothing; every
one 0 them would ’avoid her" attention or
notice. , ' r 
“What‘s up, you .old fool, that you all .,
shut up as: silent as the dead when I come 
near?” I '

This uneomplimentary speech was ad- “..,._
dressed to Pat Leech, who.at once 
sponded: ' s ' »

“There‘s been; dire trouble on the Oven
land, ’mist'ress, and we were talking it,_
ove .’. . . , ‘ . 
.l “ I had a dream last ni rht that there was
death on the Overland-43 t not'so‘?" ' ' *

“ Yes. Mistress" Gold, Witch, Driver Jack‘
has had his cheeks. called in.” ' .. : 

“Overland Hack ?” . - ' ‘ 

‘ "The same.” ' v: ' 5‘
“ Hepassed out twotdays ago.” v j  ' ',
“Yes, and he was kilt on ther way out,

shot dead on his box." . . a " 

“He. had passengers?” ,  ‘ 

“Lord love you, ycs,,and‘ they were the
saint? pleasant gentlemen you, played 0M8;
wit .” ’ 

“ And what of them?” .. ' ' w ‘
“The Lord knows, for they were $130 .,
there.” "’ « i 2 ' - ’

        
   
        
 
     
       
  

  

      
     
        
      
 
 
      
   
   

D

    

  

      
   

i

   
       

“And their bodies?” ' ~ ' -   ‘ '
‘f‘Wpre not found.” >     y
, “ How did y u get this?” I , «I v  "

“A. Government courier  through
from the fort, and toldins , ,coachwas
there, with poor Jack dead oaths—box.”

           
        
   

 

 
 

'thehorsesgone, f. .

I

   

'4 '4 ‘1‘“

hug" , -

,.

‘0

v-4.» 1 It...“

\

 
 

10

l

 

The? Gold Witch’s

 

 

“ We went up, a party of us, last evening,
and. brought the coach and body of Jack in,
but we saw nothing of the two tenderfeot
gents, and the driver is to be buried to-day
and l’enknife Pete are. now carvin’ his head:
board, and it's beautiful to behold, for he’s
cut. in leetle angels, a cross or two, and—”

“ What care i for that. fool's work? \Vliat
else do you know of this affair on the Over-
land?”

“Next to nothing, and the boys Were talk-
ing of getting up a purse to have you look
into the matter for ’em.”

“Bah! lean already see that it was the
work of road-agents.

“ Jack was too brash and went to drive by
and caught the lead, while the others were
suspected of having more gold than they

sharps run for it when the coach was held
' up and thus made their escape.”

“ It‘s about as you say, mistress; but will
you step in and see the remains 0’ poor
Jack?”

/“ No, for I have all I can do to keep my
eyes on live folks, without gazing upon the
dead. When do you plant him i"

“ Within the hour."

“ Mark you, St. Patrick.”

“ Yes, Mistress Gold Witch?’

“l~lavc,you a white cat about your old
hash-muse?”

“ Yas, thar is an old white tomcat in ther
kitchen, and if yer wants him yer kin have
him and thank yer, for be are ther consarn-
edest cat 1—”

“ Hold your tongue, for Ido not want him;
but, if you ever expect to find the murderer
of Overland Jack, take the old white eat up
with you and bury him alive in the grave
with the body.

“Do you hear?” and without awaiting a
response the Gold Witch rode away and halt-
ed at one of the stores not far away.

The proprietor was just closing up to at-
tend the funeral, but hastily opened his shop
to Wait upon the Gold Witch, who made
several purchases and then rode away out of
the valley.

She went directly to her home, entering
the canyon and riding to the brink of the
foaming torrent.

Here she halted, and, uncoiling the lariat
from her saddle-horn, threw the end of it to
the bloodhound who caught it firmly in his
teeth.

Then she rode in. her horse seeming to
know the way to go across on the ridge, so
as not to lose his footing, and the dog fol-
lowed, being at once swept off his feet, but
was towed over by his hold on the lariat.

Riding on up the valley, the Gold Witch
diSmounied at her cabin door and was im-
mediately Welcomed by a neigh from the
black horse, a yelp from the dog lying on the
mound as though on picket duty, a croak
from the parrot, and a whine from the black

t.

“Well, it’s pleasant to get a welcome, if
it is from dumb beasts," she muttered, and
was preparing to'cook her supper, when the
dog on watch gave a low growl.

“ What is it?” she asked, as she ascended
the mound and glanced down the valley.

“ Aha! a visitor, and on footl

“ I must see who he is and what he wants.
He don’t look like a miner,” and, seizing her
rifle, the Gold Witch called her black horse
to her side, leaped upon his back and trotted
down the canyon, followed by the blood-
hound.

Her dumb pets were certainly in perfect
training.

' As she neared the brook, she beheld stand-
ing on the other side a slender man, clad in
an undress uniform, with slouch hat, fatigue
coat, top-boots, and the shoulder-straps of

 

want of the Gold \Vitch‘.”’ the mysterious
woman called out.

“ I wish to see you upon a matter of im-
portancc, so permit me to eoine over," was
the reply,

“All right: I'll send my horse ovr-r after
you," and, leaping to the ground, the Gold
“Iifcli gave an order to her horse, which
at once started across the stream t0ward the
straneer.

A few minutes more and the visitor had
dismounted and confronted the Gold \Vitch,
who stood regarding him curiously.

lie was a man of slender, but graceful
form. a face that was beardless, and yet he
seemed to he, past thirty years of age, while
his hair hung in clustering curls upon his
Shoulders.

pression it was hard to fathom.

“l liaVe come to you, Susan Carr, be-
cause I am friendless and alone in the
world.

“I have come to you for help,” was the
response, in a low, earnest voice.

CHAPTER XIV.
THE wrren’s FOE’S APPEAL.

THE Gold Witch looked at the one who
had thus addressed/her with a strange ex-
pression upon her face.

_‘(‘1You seem to know me, young man?" she
sai .

 

“Yes, as you know me, Susan Carr, and,

know that I am not what I now appear.”

“ You appear to be a young man?"

“ Yes, but you know that I am a woman,
and you are well aware who I am.

“ Ah! you shake your head, doyou? Well,
let me refresh your memory, though I am
sure you recognize me.

“ You are the one whom I hired long ago,
now over a score of years past, to help me in
my revenge against Darke Dangerfield and
the woman he had married.

“You. for Certain olden considerations,
procured a nurse for It rs. Dangerfield under
your pay, to give her child into your keep-
ing, and you acted as nurse for me when my
child was born.

“You pretended to carry out my Wishes
and kidnap her child, and you got‘your pay;
but, long after, you came to me and told me
that the boy I had raised, believing it to he
one of Mrs. Dangerfield's twins. was in

reality my own child, and that you had siin- ,

ply done nothing in the matter about kid-
napping her boy.

“ You were again Mrs. Dangerfield‘s nurse
when her daughter, Anita, was born, and
you then disappeared from my sight until
you came to my ranch in Iowa to tell me
my fortune had been lost—came as the
Witch you now assume to be.

“ Do you know me now, Susan Carr?”

“Oh yes, and I know that when Mrs.
Dangerfield lay ill, when her little daughter
Anita. was but a few weeks old, that you,
knowing Daisy Dell Manor so well, as it had
been your old home, came by night and put

gison in her medicine, thus taking her
I e.

“I know that when her daughter—a babe
at the time you murdered her mother—had
grown to maidenhood, your son saved her
life, not only once, but twice, and that she,
the beautiful Anita, saved you from a cruel
death from the fury of a panther that had
escaped from a circus and was about to
spring upon you.

“She had her rifle with her, a mere toy,
and her aim was deadly and she saved your
life. A
“ Then I told you that Anita and your son
had secretly met, and would love each other,

in s ite of the fact that her father had killed

his ather, and you had taken the life of her

Shadower.

 

 

“ llut, adversity overtook you; and now,
while he is I‘last trying to save something
from the wreck, you come to me, disguised as
a man, and ask for help."

The Gold \Vilch had spoken in a low",
earnest tone, and with a sneer upon
face.

The disguised Woman, Dora Sloan, had
listened to her in perfect calmness, without
a change of expression on her face, though
she Was very pale w

“ Yes, I need aid and come, to you, as you i
took my money, two thousand dollars, tor
what you did not do.

“ My son can save nothing from the wreck
of our fortune; we have little left to live on,
until we can get work, so I came to you, for-
you are rich, to at least pay me back what is

1} showed so they were taken off to the camp "Well, sir, why have you come here?” my due. . _
l of the outlaws to be searched or killed. sternly asked the Gold Witch, gazing upon “1 am sick, wretched and in deep dis—
"That’s the whole affair, unless the two her visitor, while over her face stole an ex- tress.” ‘

“ And how came you to find me?"

“ It is not a hard matter to track one such
as you, Susan Carr, with your horses and
do rs.”

“ Ah, and you trailed me here, after I Visit-
ed your home?”

“I sent one to track you to where you
lived, and when he returned and told me
where you were I determined to seek you."

“And came disguised as a man ‘2"

" Yes, for a woman cannot travel alone in
these wild regions; but, is not my disguise a
good one?”

“Perfect; but, how came you to reach me
so readily, and on foot?"

“I came by coach, sat up with the driver
and asked him where you Were, and to put
me off at the nearest point the OVerland
Trail ran to your canyon. and he did So,
some hours ago, and lcame on here, with
yonder peak for a guide, as he told meit
was just in front of the canyon of the Gold
Witch."

“ lVell. you are a plucky woman, Dora
Sloan, and I’m not one to turn you away
from my cabin, though I hate you as bitterly
as you do me.” ,

“And why should you hate me '2”

“ I’ll tell you, now that you have dared to
come and seek aid of me; but, come now
with me to my den, and we’ll talk matters
over.

“ You are welcome for a few days, and
then we must part, to renew our hate as be
fore, for there can never be other than hate
between us, Dora Sloan.”

“ No, I am well aware of that, for I know
all that you are. and you know me. '7

“As a murderess. yes; but come,” and the
Gold Witch led the way up the canyon to
her home.

 

CHAPTER XV.
A muse}: FOR IIATREI‘I. '

WHEN Dora Sloan reached the cabin of
the Gold Witch, the dogs, cat and hires
regarded her With marks of deepest in
terest.

They had never before seen any visitor
welcomed to the hospitality of their misiress's
home.

Seemingly at ease in her man’s attire. Dora
Sloan went to work to help the Gold Wnea
all she could, and the two soon had a tempt
ing meal ready to sit down to.

They talked upon many topics. net. lrm'r-
ever, touching upon anything of an unpleas—
ant nature, and the Gold Witch took an
interest in telling of how she came to the
gold mines. _

She explained that she had nursed a miner
who had died and left her a map 0f lus cabin
and surroundings, and that he hadwith him
the horses and pets‘she then had With her.

After his death she had come to the mines,
with h horses and dogs, Who had come to
obey he implicitly, and that she had traded
erstitions of the miners to make

her ‘

V*.MMM

 

 

A.;~,.

 

an oficer. mother, andinstantly you fled with your son on the s 
“Well, who are you, and what do you to Iowat ide away. , , money, a I added: v H ,
it i v 
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as
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er ‘
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it
'it
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‘1 —~_..__.._—______. _._ _ ‘5

~ “ It is a lie!

 

“I have laid by a snug little sum I can
tell you, Dora Sloan.”

Dora Sloan encouraged her to talk about
the miners, and got from her a full history of
Dcadmnn's Den and its denizens.

It was late when the two retired, a bed
having been titted up in the front room for
the Witch’s guest.

The next day llora Sloan Seemed anxious
to do all in her power to help her hostess,
for she fed the dogs and birds, and made the
more intimate acquaintance of the two
horses.

In the evening as the two women sat to-
gether in the cabin, the Gold Witch asked:

“How much longer do you wish to remain
here with me?”

“I can only remain a couple of days, or a
week at furthest, for my son will he coming
back soon and I must meet him."

“ Where will you meet him?"

“ I appointed a lace in Nebraska.”

“ And what wilIyou both do?”

“You have told me such glowing stories
of the mines here. that I feel tempted to come
here and turn miner.”

“ No; it will not do, for you and I can
never be neighbors, Dora Sloan. Go else-
where.”

“ Anti Why is it. Susan Carr. that you hate
me  you do? How have [ever wronged

on?

The Gold Witch fairly started at the ques-
tion. ,

Then she asked almost savagely:

“ You would know why I hate you ‘2"

“Yes. I would know the reason of your
hatred 2’”

“ I’ll tell you.

“- Well?"

“ Do we look alike ‘2”

“ I do not see that we do.”

“ Well, we should.”

“ And why?”

“Because 'your father was my father, Dora
Sloan.”

“ Woman, you are mad
I am as sane as you are.

“ Your father, Ezra Dean, was a gay
youn man, and had money. He went off

Look at me i”

In

' to col age, for his parents w ished him to have

a profession, to practice medicine, as well as
to farm, and there he met my mother, the
daughter of an honest man, the janitor of
the college. .

.I-le pretended to love. her. and urged her
into a secret marriage with him.

“ I was born, and when but a year old, my
father tired of College life and returned home
to become a farmer.

“My mother begged him to acknowledge
her as his wife, and he laughed at her, 1011-
mg her that the marriage was a bogus one.

“And so it proved, for a fellow-student,
disguised as a clergyman, had performed the
bogus ceremony.

“It nearly killed my mother, but at last
she rallied and went to Work to support her-
self and child. .

“ She gave me a fair education, and when
she died, after a year of illness, I was left
destitute; but my experience in nursing
taught me to seek such a place and I got

00d wages. - '

“Before my mother died she told me all,
and taught me to hate _my father, and to time
you, for he had married a .lady of wealth,
your mother, and you were his acknowledged
child before the world, while 1 was an out—
cast.

“13 it a wonder that my whole life was
imbittered, and that when you wanted a
nurse 1 gladly went to you, but with a feel-
ing of revenge?

"It was my joy to_ find that you hated
Darke Dangerfield’s wrfe, and I got you into
my power; but I did not carry out your evil
plans a ainst the Dangerfields- , ,

I sa you put poison in the medlcme of
the sick woman, and I followed you when
you slipped out of the house by the upper

 

The Gold Witch’s Shadower.

balcony and the large tree that swung over
it.

“ You placed yourself in my power, l'lora
Sloan, and I am glad to see you have to beg
from me now, and to know that you are.
poor, you and your son. for I hate. you for
your ather's sake, the father who wrecked
my mother's life.

“ We are half sisters, Dora Dean. and yet
I hate you; but I give you food, and I shall
give you money, for it is my reVenge to do
so. It makes me happy to have you beg of
me.

“ Do you want proof of what I tell you,
Dora. my sister?”

" No; for I believe—in fact, am sure that
What you say is true.

“My father confessed his sin to my mo-
ther, just before he died. but I knew not be-
fore that you, Susan Carr, was my half-
sister."

“ Yes, my mother's name was Carr. and I
tOok it, for I have no right to my father’s
name of Dean.

“Well, you know my reason for hating
you now, Dora, and you know that l emer-
tain you because it is a joy to have you
eat of my bread and beg me for aid.

“Remain as long as you please, for it is a
joy for me to feed you, and some day it will
be my pleasure to let_lhat proud son of yours
know his grandfather’s crime, and that. he
has a witch for an aunt," and the 'Woman
laughed in a bitter, mocking way.

Several days passed away, but the past
history of the two was never alluded to
again.

The Gold Witch took pleasure in telling
of all there was of interest in the Colorado
mines, and about the miners of Deadman’s
Den.

“I am a bad woman, sister Dora,” and she
always emphasized the sister with a sneer.
“I am wicked, for I always cheat at
cards.

“ Why, I have duplicate packs of those. old
Saint Patrick, the landlord of Pard‘s Para-
dise buys, but mine are marked.

“I always demand a new pack to play
with, and substitute mine for them, for I go
prepared for it.

“The other night I recognized the two
men who came from Where was once your
home.

“ I knew them at a glance, and saw that
they were sailing under false colors, for they
had changed their names.

“ One day I had Word from my agent, for
I have a man in my employ in N—, telling
me of what was going on there, and from
him learned that one of the two men I saw
had committed a forgery and fled.

“ The other had also departed, some said
disowned by his father, but no crime was
alleged against him. i

"I learned, also. more news you would
like to bear; but, I‘ll tell you some day, I’ll
come and see you and tell you, for it will
keep; it will keep until—well, one day I will
tell you, but not now—no, not now!

“Well, I bet with the two young men
that they would win one game, and I the
next two.

“I layed against their marked pack,
which saw. In Shufiiing, I changed to my
marked pack and I won and they could not
understand how they no longer saw their
secret marks on what they supposed was
their own pack.

“ Then 1 called them by their real names.
my parrot, at a sign from me, shrieked, and
by lu’ck crie ‘mnrder.’and the dog howled,
while I told one of the men that his hand
was stained with human blood.

“It was but. a clevr-r guess on my part,
from news I had heard from N—— but I hit
him so hard by it that he and his comrade
left Deadman’s Den at dawn the neat morn-
ing on the coach.

“I headed them off on the road, and

,marked some signs on the coach, which

 

- we, " ‘ .,.;. :f;“‘ -‘ ~ —~



seared them terribly. and now I have heard
that the coach was held up by roml-aeents,
that Jack the driver was killed and that the
two young fellows have disapperred."

“Killed, too, I suppose, by the road-
ngents‘.“ ‘

The Gold \V'iteh laughed, but made. no-
reply.

CIIAIVl‘l‘th XVI.
ovrzaunAnn.

THE next day Dora Sloan, still wearing
her disguise as a man, walked off from the
cabin to he alone.

She wandered down the canyon, lost in
deep meditation, for her brow wore a look of
anxiety and an expression of pain was upon
her face.

She had become pretty Well acquainted
with the habits of her halt‘sistcr, the (lold.
Witch, and seemed to study her every look
and movcmant.

The horses, dogs. cat and birds seemed to
regard her as: one of the family and treated"
her no longer with a watchful eye, as at.
first.

W'alking down the. canyon she sat down
among the rocks near the ford, to suddenly
spring up and hide, for she beheld a horse
man approaching!

She had thrown herself flat down behind a
rock, on which grew some scrub bushes, ex-
pecting the horseman would cross the ford
and ride on to the cabin, for the Gold Witch
had told her how miners came to get from
her knowledge of where to dig for gold.

The Gold Witch had also told her how she
kept one of the dogs on watch all the time,
so that any oneentering the canyon would at
once be seen and the alarm given by a yelp
or grow]. .

To cross the ford was to risk life, even
when one knew the channel, or rather ridge
that a horse. had to follow across.

The sharp yelp of a dog now reached the
ears of Dora b‘loan. Soon there came the
clatter of hoofs and the Gold Witch halted.
within fifty feet of her.

“ Go over and bring him,” ordered the-
woman, as she dismounted from her horse
and the intelligent animal at once obeyed,
crossing the ford.

Knowing that the Gold Witch did not.
suspect her presence there, Dora Sloan re-
mained quiet. and was most glad to feel that
one of the dogs had not accompanied their
mistress, as she would surely have been dis-
covered.

The horre soon returned and the rider dis-
mounted, and from her hiding-place Dora.
saw him distinctly through the bushes.

He was a thick-set man, Some fifty years-
ot’ age, and wore the dress of a miner; but,
he was attired with marked neatness. and
his weapons were of the finest, while heavy
spurs were upon his heels. ‘

” \Vell, Captain (,folorado, I suppose you
have come to pay me my share of the pick-
in gs I sent you the other day?" said the Gold
Witch.

I'Ier words were distinctly heard by Dora,
as also the reply of the man whom she now
knew to be the noted outlaw chief, the terror
of the stage-trails.

“Yes, Gold Witch; but, why did you.
mark Jack the driver to die, for I so read
the sign?” _

“ Right, for he caught me speaking to-
your messenger on his last run in, apd I fear
suspected me, so it was best for law to be-
out of the way."

‘Of course.”

“And the two men ?”

“IfleeCed them, as your sign read that.
they had money hidden away. and. then
threatened to hang them, or let them jotn my
band.”

“ They chose the latter, of course ‘1”

“Oh, yes; they Were only too glad and,

A;

4‘-

      
 

The

"“ vi ch.

‘ ':~l
t
.

Gold Witch’s Shado‘wer.

 

 

 

 

  

will make good road-raiders, for they are
evidently reckless young villains.”

“ Certainly.”

“ Who are they?”

' “I knew them East, or rather, knew who
gey were, and recognized them at Deadman's
en.

“One is a forger, and the other I rather
suspect of murder; but, they will be only
too glad to join you, and I so signed on the
coach, knowing you wanted men.

“Now, what did. they pan out, Captain
Coloradt)?” » - ’ '

greatly surprised to see what the other had.
“ I halted the coach. and at once shot Over-
land Jack, soon as I saw your sign to do so.
as This scared the two Easterners terribly, and

v I told them that I knew they had more than
their purses showed, and would kill them if
they did not hand it out.

‘iThen the did so. ,One had in his boot,
two thousau dollars, and the other in his
coat-collar nearly as much. 9
g “I gave them back their purses and the
money in them, with a couple- of hundreds
each, and all their traps, when they said they
would ijoin me. I also presented them with
two sp endid horses, and they seem to be
content.” . .

“And now to our division of the spoils,”
and the eyes of the woman brightened with
avariciousncss.

“Your share is just five hundred dollars,
Gold Witch.” .

, 5‘ So be it, but I should have more.”

"‘It is short division With you, with no
danger to run,hut with me it is long divi-
siont'as I divide with fourteen men,'have ex-
penses to pay and all the risk to run of get-
ting shot or han god.” I

“ Well, so be it, Captain Colorado.

 -. “There is no mue business between us, I
'1' believe?”

“ Not until I come to pay you moremoney
on pickings you send me. '

“ Good-by.” 1

He leaped upon the horse of the Gold

, Witch, and was at once taken back across
.the stream; 1th, the animal, returning, his
mistress sprung into her saddle and rode

" back toward her cabin. ‘

r - .Dora Sloan saw the wtlaw chief mo/unt
."hissp’lendid bay animal that had patiently

awaited him, and leave the canyon.

From rack to rock she glided, until, gain-
ing a rove of pines, she thence returned to
the ea in, not having. been missed by the
" Witch. ,

.- But. she had discovered that her half-sister
was in league with Captain Colorado, chief
of the outlaw band known as the Upper
Ran e Road Raiders.

p u" must delay no longer to carry out the
ppurpose-for whichil came here. Delays are

data erous. / a I
’ “ are will soon be returning to look fer

me ataBuek Brandon’s Ranch. and I must

  
 
  
 
  
  
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
    
 
   
    

act. ,

- “Yes, this very night will I do the deed,”
and an expression swept over‘ the face of
'Dora Sloan that was awful to behold, and
. ; d the Gold Witch seen it she would have
, ' n warned of danger to come.

CHAPTER XVII.
Tan COURIER. r
sad at Buck Brandon’s Ranch,

 

  I ‘ Dave 

anxmusto hear from his mother. .
 could do nothing toward finding her,
ortwhitber she had gone, after parting with
Brandon. neither the cowboy nor the son
maid conjecture. -
'She had left the letter for him not to be
anxious, and to await at Brandon’s [Ranch
' til he heard from her. ' '
But, then, so long a time .had elapsed. that
:139,.,eould but feel the greatest uneasiness
" ther. _ '
"questioned Buck

 
   
  

 
  

  

, some four months only; but, what had Mrs.

“They panned out well,and each was.

’how 1' can serve you.””

.ere Israel: for you, and the chances for our

'you that if we put up' for a short while with

‘ and... Dare Sloan began to be more and more‘

 

»~ I - him, and you are to go into camp there until
.Brandon ever and, ‘ _

over again, and could see that the cowboy
also felt nervous, though he tried not to
show it.

Dare helped his friend in the care of his
cattle, hunted for game, fished, and (lid all
that he could to pass away the time; but his
thoughts were busy about his mother the
whole time. \

Ilis going East, his arrest, speedy trial and
sentence, anti what had followed, had taken

\

Sloan been doing all that time?
A month of it he could account for; after
that he was all in the dark. .
One day as the two friends were seated in
front of the cabin, after a good Sunday din-
ner, a horseman was seen coming across the

prairie.
He rode up to the cabin half an hour after
and asked: ?

“ Is this ther Brandon Ranch?"

“ Yes, pard, and I am Buck Brandon at
your service," responded the cowboy politely,
and he added:. \

“Dismount, stake out your horse and I’ll
find you something to eat.”

I,“ hank you, pard, I’ll do it, for I’ve come
along way, from awa down in the Colorado
mining country, and war sent from the fort
here, to see you." '

“Well, you can rest now, and then tell me

“ It’s easy told, pard, for I wants ter give
you a letter.”

“ Ab!" and Buck Brandon took the letter
and broke the seal.

“It is for you, Dare,” he said, handing the
inclosed letter to his friend, while he read a
line written to him with it, and which said:

“Will Mr. Brandon kindly give the with-
in letter to my son and confer another favor
upon one whom he has before well served?’

Dare grasped the letter. for he at once re-
cognized his mother’s writing.

Then he Walked off by himself, while Buck
Brandon looked tb the comfort of the cou-
rier. .

The letter was dated tWO weeks previous
to its reception, and was simply headed:

“ COLORADO CAMP.”

The missive read as follows:
‘V'IVIY DEAR SON:— I ‘

‘.‘ This will reach your hand through a
courier going on Government duty to Fort
McPherson, and who will have a few days to
himself, he tells me, after delivering dis-
patches to the commandant there. _

“ You are no doubt most anxious regarding
me, because of my long silence, but it has
been impossible for me to sooner communi-
cate with you, as my plans were not formed
for our future. .

“ I was determined to be thoroughly settled

future success are now most satisfactory, I
assure 'ou, though there are certain condi-
tions With them that -I fear you will not like.

“Still, my son, we cannot have all things
as we wish them in this life, and I assure

certain ills, riches will come to us rapidly.

“I fear that not a dollar will be gained to
us from the failure of the bank, or the sale
of Elmwdod Hull, so it is best that we seek
the means now in our power to gain-wealth.

“I decided, after certain moves I had
made, to come‘to t, a Colorado mining coun-
try, and thus far al is most favorable.

“ I havesettled in a good home; but, what
is more, there is'work for us to do that will
‘pan out rich’ as they say in this country.

“‘"The field is before you and you have but
rework it. ‘ a 

' "‘ I wish"; therefore, for you to come to me.
The courier will be your guide. as he passes
near. on'his we to a fort in New Mexico.

' “ Hewill guide you to a spot where I met

 

icome, so be prepaer far it.

“ I will look for you about the seventeenth“
of next month, for the courier told me that 3

would be about the time of his return; but,
should-I not be there as I said, go into camp
and await me.

“ If you delay three days and I do not ap-
pear, then seek the nearest mining-camp and
get the direction to find the home of the
Gold Witch. .

“When you reach her canyon, and you
must go alone, blow a whistle, which you
will find in the package'the courier will give

on. v
y “ A horse will come at your bidding.
Mount him and let him take you across the
torrent to the cabin of the Gold Witch.

“ Under no circumstances attempt to guide a

the horse, for he will take you over in
safety. .

“ Arriving at the cabin look over the door
and you will find a letter. ~

“I give these directions in case I should
not be able to meet you, after you have de-
layed three days in camp, for life, you know,
is uncertain with all of us.

“ In the‘package the courier will give ou,
is gold to the amount of five hundred dol ars,
which you may find useful, as I know not if
you have any. a

“If you are'amply supplied, then give it
to Brandon as a souvenir from me.

‘" With the hope of seeing you before very
long, 1 am ever .

“ Dcvotedly
“Xena MOTHER.”

.__.___.

CHAPTER XVIII.
TO THE. GOLD MINES.

j

 ‘.

:."/

' «r r .6
at v

TWICE did the 'young man read over this t .‘

letter. I
There was much in it that seemed mysteri-
ous to him, and yet he could not fathom it ,

without seeing his mother. .

He was delighted to at last hear from her ‘
an anxious to start at once to join her.

‘ The seventeenth she says, and this is the
second. . '

" Well, I’ll go and see what the courier has

H .

to, say. . ;
He walked back to the cabin’and found the

’ courier enjoying the very substantial repast

which Buck Brandon had set before him.
He was a man. of about forty, wore a

fatigue uniform and was heavily armed. :

As Dare Sloan approached he said:

“I have a package for you‘also, sir, in my
saddle pocket there, and it is money, the Gold
Witch told e.” ,

“The Go d Witch?”

“ Yes, sir, the one who gave me the letter
and package for you.”

“It was a woman called the Gold Witch, I

then. who gave them to you?".
 “ Yes, sir.”
“Please tell me all youlcan about it.”
“Well, sir, I was riding ‘ along the Over~

[land Trail. some fifteen miles from Deadman's

Den. carrying dispatches out of New Mexico
to Fort McPherson, when I met a person
who,.in those parts, is known as the Gold
Witch, for she has the power to find- gold
and tell fortunes, they say. ,

“ I had met her twice before—once on the
trail, while Iwas carrying dispatches, and
onye in Deadman’s Den, so I saluted her po-
litely and drew rein, as she said she Wished
td’spcak to rue.‘ '

“' {She asked

where I was going, and when
I told her she brightened up

and told me she

wished to send an important letter to a ranch ‘
some days’ ride from McPherson, and asked .

me, to wait until her return.

“I told her I was in a hurry; but she told,

.me‘ Shetwould give me a hundred dollars if I
would delay four hours, and Icould make 
_up'the time. . v ., 

.“ So I waited and she rode off at a gallop;  >>
but she was back within: three hours and .

gave me the package and letter, which 'I 

l s

V ._ ,t/ J
V T

- a

i

 
    
    
     

 

   
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
  
 
   
  
 
 
 

 

 

    
   
    
    
      
    
   
    
       

 

    
     
     
          
    
      
     
    
   
   
   
   
  
      
         
        
  
      
     

 

. .... g\ “VA ...-..<-_. __.

l

 

 

urn

‘ flaw-.1!" 

 

 

The Gold Witch’s Shadower.

 

her I would deliver, as I would have four
days' rest at McPherson.

“ Then she gave me an extra hundred for
my ride to this ranch and back, and I was to
guide you to the place where I left her.”

“All right, my man; I will go with you
at once.”

“ No, sir, for couriers must ride alone, and
I don’t leave McPherson until day after to-
morrow, so I will return to-night and have
two days’ rest there.

“ Then I’ll pick you up on the trail right
at the Sand Hills to the southward and be-
yond the Platte.”

“ All right; on the third day from this?"

" “Yes, sir. ”

“ I'll be there, and you can make another
hundred by guiding me to the place where
you left the one who gave you the letter for
me.

“I will have a pack-horse, and as my ani-
mals are good ones we will not delay you on
your ride, while we will not suffer for pro—
visions on the way. _ _ .

“ By the trail you take it Will be the mid-
dle of the month before we get there?”

“ Yes, sir, all of it; about the seventeenth
I guess, for I have several points to make on
the way, you know.”

It was thus decided; and, soon after, the
courier started upon his return to the fort,
while Dare Sloan began to get his horses in
trim for the long trip.

The money sent by his mother he turned
over to Buck - Brandon, to whom it came
well,and was fully appreciated, and the next
day the young man took his leave of his
faithful friend, for he was anxious to have a
day’s rest for his horses at the Sand Hills,
while waiting for the courier.

The Sand Hills were reached in good time,
and, twenty-four hours after, and promptly
when due, the soldier eotirier arrived and
the two started upon the trip southward.

Upon the morning of the sixteenth, and
after a long ride, full of adventures in dodg-
ing Indians and road-agents, the two arrived
at the rendezvous appointed in Dora Sloan’s
letter.

“It was here I met the Gold Witch, and
yonder up that valley is a good camping-
place; but we are a littleabcad of time.

“ You may have to Walt some days, but I
guess she’s prompt,” Stud the (201111012.

Ilalting for dinner, he received his pay,
and bidding farewell to Dare Sloan, the
spldier mounted his horse to .go upon his
way, intending to stop for the night at Pards’
Paradise in Deadman’s Den.

“Friend Cole, 1am some to ask you to do
me the favor not to speak of havmg guided
me here, or having brought a letter to me,
for I have reasons I cannot explain for wish-
ing it," said Dare, as he grasped the soldier’s
Magic. indeed, sir; I will not ipealk (if it,
f r as I said to on, couriers-mus ri ea one,
aid then both yhu and the Gold, Witch have
been most generous to me, and 1 11 have three
hundred dollars to send to my 300d W150 1“
Ohio.

“I’ll keep silent, Sir, for I know you are
all right, and I only hope to meet you “£3111
some day. ' ‘

“ Good~by and luck to you; and remember,
I generally pass by here between the fifteenth
to the eigteenth, going north 01‘ south, 0f
each month, should you need my serVices
again. ” , . n

“ Thank you, Cole; Ill not forget it, and
Dare Sloan waved his hand as the courier
dashed away at a allop. _ . '

Fox-.3, long time e stood gazmg after him,
feeling very lonely, as he had found him a
very clever and brave fellow. Then he
turned to fix up his little camp, as he expect-
ed to have to wait at least a day or two, be-
in g ahead of time. ,.

As he turned he started, for there before
him stood a stran e form.

g It was the G01 Witch.

CHAPTER XIX.
PROF. nowa’s I‘LUCKY I’ASSENGERH.

Tm: coach on the Overland Trail, which
had been running into Deadinan's Den with
poor Jack on the box, had found another
driver in the person of Bob Howe, a man who
was known along the frontier as a very dan-
gerous personage to an, er.

Bob Howe was an 01 scout; had also been
an old hand with the reins, for years, and
knew the countr most thoroughly, while
he had not a particle of fear in his composi-
tion.

Bob, likewise, was adead-shot Once he
had killed three road-agents who had “ held
ulp” his coach, before they could get in a
s ot.

One day Bob Howe was coming alon at
a good pace, on his run into Deadman’s en,
and was alone on the box, with two passen-
gers inside.

His face wore a worried look, for he had a
fear of being halted by road-a cuts, and
there was one reason why he 0011] not fight
back, if a chance of escape presented itself.

That reason was in the shape of a lady
passenger.

“Why, she nigh took my breath away,
pards, when I seen her,” he had said in tell-
ing his companions about his passengers.

“ And her pa are that fine a gent as I ever
sot eyes outer.

“ But, Lordyi the gal are pretty!"

The passengers were none other than Darke
Dangerfield and his daughter, and the beauty
of Anita had not alone impressed Bob
Howe.

They had sold out their thin s at Daisy
Dell Manor and vacated, and Mr. )angerfleld
had put his money into the mine he had
spoken of as being in Colorado.

It was, in fact, not far from Deadman’s
Den, and the former owner of it had four
men employed in getting out of it what gold
they could find.

Mr. Dangerfield had been unable to per-
suade Anita to remain East, for she would
go with him, so he had determined to make
themselves as comfortable in their frontier
home as possible.

They had purchased at the last town, be-
fore reaching Deadmau's Den, a lot of furni-
ture \ which they would need, with other
things to make them comfortable, and left
all to be brought by wagon-train, along with
several fine horses, while they took the stage
to go on ahead and get a house to live in.

It was Anita’s presence in the coach that
worried Bob Howe, for he had made up his
mind if halted by the road-agents to shoot
from the word go, if there seemed any chance
to get through.

“I’ll hev ter let ’em go through ther out-
fit,:’ he muttered to himself, and so he drove
quietly on his way.

Darke Dangerfield and Anita had both
heard of the dangers of the road, and yet
were not alarmed.

In fact, Mr. Dangerfield had won Bob
Howe’s respect by saying:

“If it comes to a brush, driver, I am at
your service, and you know best what to
( 0. U

“But ther leetle one, sir?"

“ Don’t mind me, driver, for I am not one
to submit to being robbed, if you can fight
them off,” replied Anita.

“Waal, you has got pluck from ’way back,
both of yer,” averred Bob.

But, he made up his mind that he would
submit to anything rather than have Anita
placed in danger of a bullet.

As he neared the spot where Jack had been
shot, two men suddenly stepped into the
trail before the leaders, one on either side of
them, and a voice called out sharply:

“Draw rein! hands up!”

Bob Hower uttered an imprecation, but he
obeyed promptly, and up went his hands.

The two men were masked and one stepped
before the leaders, catching their bits, while

 

13i

 

 

the other walked up to the side of the wheel-
ers and held Bob IIovde covered by his rifle.

A third man now appeared from behind a
thicket, and he had been the one who had
given the order to halt.

He was tall, slender in form, wore his coat
buttoned close, and had a black mask on.

He carried a cocked revolver in one hand,
and in his belt was another.

“What have you, driver, that is worthy
our attention ‘2” he asked, as be advanced to
ward the side of the c ach.

“ Look an’ yer‘ll fin out, yer cussed thin
0’ ther trail; but I warns yer ef yer insults
by word or look ther leddy in thar, yer'll git
no rest ontil er day 0’ hangin'.”

The man s ightly hesitated, then advanced
and opened the stage door, his revolver at a
level.

Hardly had he done so when there came‘
the crack of a pistol, followed by a yell from
Bob Howe and ashot, and the horses dashed
forward, trampling beneath their boots the
man who stood at their heads.

So quickly had the shot been fired, so sud-
den the result, that the coaeh was dashing
on, with Bob IIowc lashing his horses, ere
Darke Dangerfield and Anita knew what
had happened.

Then they beheld a. horseman dash out in.
to the trail, a revolvor in either hand, and,
though alone, he seemed to fearlessly attack
the road-agents, whose shots were rattling-
forth from the rocks and bushes

Then the coach swept on out of sight, and
they saw no more.

“ Driver! Driverl halt and let me go-
back to the aid of that brave fellow who
came to our rescue," Darke Dangerfield had
called out.

But Bob' Howe had swept on under whip
and voice until safe, and then called back:

“Pard, you is a brave one, I knows; but,
yer hain‘t no biz back yonder when yer leetle
gal are here ter look arter, so we sails right“
on.”

“ And that brave horseman?"

“Now thet young pilgrim ki-n look arter
himself, and he’ll do it, though I didn’t think
he were quite ther reckless piece 0’ humanity
he showed himself ter be this day 0’ our
Lord.”

“Had he no help?"

“Nary; but we'll talk when we gits ter
Deadman’s Den, for jist now hain‘t no time
ter swap conversation."

And Bob Howe rolled on at the same rapid
pace until he reached the door of the Pards"
Paradise.

There Saint Pat came out to receive his
guests. _

They were ushered into the best rooms the
hotel afforded, while the loafers seemed to
be struck dumb at the sight of Anita.

Before leavin the mine, the former owner
had ordered a ouse built for Mr. Danger-
field and his daughter, and it was about
ready for them; but until the furniture came,
they were to stop at Pards’ Paradise, where
arrangements had already been made for
their comfort.

“ I fear this is terrible for on, my child,”‘
said Darke Dangerfield as e gazed about
him.

“On the contrary, father, I reall like it,
for all is so odd, so strange, and di you see
those miners as we drove up?

“ Why, ever one of them dofilcd their
hats to me, an bowed as though a French l
dancing-master had commanded them to
‘salute your partners,” and Anita laughed
merrily.

Soon after Bob Howe ap cared accom~
panied by Landlord Leech, w 0 said:

“Bob says as how you was fearful about.
the young gent as sailed into the agents, and
wishes me to tell you about him.”

r We certainly shall be glad to hear that
he has escaped unharmed, Mr. Leech,” said
Anita.

“ He has escaped, andpo mistake, nil”.

 

     
 

"A 

14

 

 

“ Yer see, ther agents has been ther devil
on ther trail, 0’ late, add since Overland Jack
Were kilt, two more of the drivers has had
the’r toes turned up.

“This made ther young gent go on ther
trail, and Bob llowe here don't know him as
We does, he bein’ new.”

“And who is he?”

“’l‘her mun thet took the contract ter clean
:out the agents?” a

l'  U ‘

“ He are known in these: parts as Dare
, Devil, for we knows 0 other name fer him
and thet suits him to a dot.

“ He hain’t been but a few months at Dead-
.Inan's Den, though his mother has lived
 - - hereabout for a couple 0’ years or more.”

‘ a.“ y “ His mother?" asked Anita quickly.

 h “,Yas, miss, the Gold Witch we calls
, er. ’ ‘

“The Gold Witch ?” echoed Anita and
her father,

“ Yes, miss, and sir to you: that’s ther

' only name we knows her by.”

’ “And who is she?”

“A woman as knows how to read fortunes
and looks like a she-devil, beggin’ pour par-
don, .miss. "

‘ “ And this horseman who attacde the

"road-agent is her son ?”

“ Yes, miss, and 'he lays in wait for ’em,
and when they jump a coach he jumps them,
and somebody gits hurt, and he bein’ the son
‘a witch, yer see he don’t git wounded or

' t.” . v r

“This. is a remarkable story, landlord,”
said Darke Dangerfield.

 Ethical] hear more rcmarkabler things than
what; yer’has. pal-d, if yer stays in this ken.
try/J? chimed in Bob Howe, and soon after he
and the landlord left the guests to meditate
upon the country they had come to, and the

4 people they! Were to dwell among.

. And, somehow, the thoughts of Anita
w dwelt much upon the mysterious horseman
" . 'who had come to their aid on the Overland
 ,Trail.

 
    
  
   
 
  
   
  
  
    
  
  
 
 
  
    
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
     
    
    
     
        
       
        
    
     
 

CHAPTER xx
" " A STRANGE coyrassron. '~

Dans SLOAN was almostxstartled at the
form that met his eyes as he turned from gaz-
‘in after the departing courier. * ' ,

, twas the Gold Witch, in her red velvet
, skirt, cavalry boots and spurs, slouch hat
with its snake cord, and military jacket, sash

" and belt of arms. '

Her face was dark, her hair snowwhite,
and her eyes downcast.

‘ My good woman, I believe you bring me
a message from. my mother,” he said,

  . kindIly.

 , ‘9 ollow met” -
.' She turned away as she spoke, and went to
her black horse, Which was not far distant.

. V Leaping upon his back, she again called
out:
‘ ” Mount, and follow me 2" . 1
"He soon had his traps ready, and obeyed.“
She led the way for several miles, turned
intothe canyon and halted at the torrent.
 ‘ Ride close behind me and give me your
 bridle-rein. . z
- ; "Also hold tightto the lanatofyour led
" 1 horse, for a false step here may cost life.” ,

 j He obeyed and she entered the stream,
_ ‘ holding therein of his horse and keeping him
' close, while he did the same for his led
horse. 2 - ' _ i
 .Bcachlng, the cabin she disinounted and
imaging to the door threw it open.

 _ en she turned and heldvout her arms,
while she cried: . ' ' ‘
 E‘Dare, my son, do you not know me?”
“r‘! Mother! Great Goal can-this be you ?"

. "I. lg", and she would have fallen had he
“caught her in his strong arms, for she
spanned, away. , ‘ ' ’ , ' ~
 “negation brougbther toned as she met his
urges chasm ina lowtone; . » .  I 

 
 

  

         
   
 
 
 
     
  
  
     
   
 
 
 
    

  

  

   
     
 

 

o ‘v 1,.
. . [A .p' -.

“Do not condemn me, my son, until you
have heard all.”

“ Why, mother, how you haVe suffered,
for you positively look twenty years older
and your hair is as white as snow.”

“ it turned white in a few hours, Dare, and
no wonder.

“ i. have sinned deeply, my son, but I must
confess all to you. ‘

“ Then I shall be content, and you will
bear with me for the time I may'yet have to
live.

“ I have much to tell, my son, and I only
hope that you will not hate me for it."

“ Hate you, my ii‘lotlier‘f”

“But, you do not know how I have sin-
ned.”

“ You can have done nothing that can
make me hate you. A son may pity a mo-
ther, may be hurt that she has sinned, but
he can never hate, no, no, not that.” ’

‘.‘ God bless you, Dare, my noble boy!" she
said, and then, after a short silence she re-
plied: I

“I wish to tell you all, and so will begin
away back in mg girlhood, when I loved
Darke Dangerfiel .”

And she told the story of how Darke Dan-

gerfield had won her love, and then cast her
all to marry an heiress, and how she had
vowed revenge.

She told of her marriage through pique to
his fathrr, Henry Sloan, of how she had en-
gaged Susan Carr, the nurse, to commit a
crime and kidnap the child of Darke Danger-
field and his wife, but had been deceived by
the nurse; and then she told of a scene that
her husband had witnessed in the Dean burl!"
lug-ground on the ridge near Elmwood Hall,
where Dangerfield met her by» accident.

“ Your father deemed it a meeting between
Dangerfield and myself by appointment, my
son, when it was purelyan accident, and in
his jealous rage he way’laid Darke Danger-
field to kill him. . '

“ In self-defense Dangerfield killed him;
but that made me even more bitter-toward
him.” ‘ ‘

There was one thing that the woman did
not confess. She would not tell of her crime
against Darke Dangerfield’s wife, and that
she had been the cause of her death.

“ No, I’ll not let him think me a deliberate
murderess,” she decided; and then she went
on with her'terrible confession, terrible in-
deed, because it was a mother’s confession of
sins to ’a son.

She revealed to him the fact that she had
fled from Elmwood to keep him away from
Anita Dangerfield. Then followed the com-
ing' of Susan Carr, the nurse, now playing

the character of the Gold Witch to the ranch, -

after his departure to the East.

How Susan had tracked her, in disguise.
Mrs. Sloan made known, and at last; related
Susan Carr’s story of who she was, her half-
s’lster, and the threat of hate against her and

11- a,
“Poor, driven to bay, and longin’ for
riches for you, my son, while fearfu she

lwould kill me or you, or both of us in

her hatred, I was utterly desperate, and
one night the deadly ordeal came between

us. - ,.
_. “ It was her hateful,’.worthless life full of
threats, gainst yours and mine, and 1 met
the issue airly, earlessly, without, mercy.
. “ I met it, and ‘ triumphed.”
“ And she, Su Carr?” gasped Dare.
“,Lkilled her, and I threw her body into
the torrent, so it is now far beneath the
Emountaiasé; .y’vas the husky reply.

t‘

And

Dare” Sloan buried his face in his.

, hands, utterlylovercome. ~ - .
' time neither/- spoke; then the‘

' Fore lon
silence ww' token by the Woman. .

“Dare, I have madesmy confessmn to you.
That awful ni ht ofvagony, when it was};
deathmrnggle, etween‘ us, turned my hair
asvwh'ite asanow. ,' '~ .  , -  , ,

The, com Witch’s Shadower.

 

stood by the doorot the‘coach,,.ahd had,

 

 

“ I put on her costume, and I have tested
it Several times, at Ileadman‘s Den and before
Captain Colorado, with whom I told you she
was in league. r

“ l told him I would sever all connection
with him, so sent him away, for I wished
inot to be a thief.

“ i found, behind yonder trunk against
the (:lill‘, a cave, and in it is gold which that
woman laid by.

“ l have not touched a dollar of it, but left
it to you to say what to do, for there is a
small fortune there-

“ Now 1 wish to remain in these wilds un.
til I die, and you must not desert me, my
son, for sec, look at my haggard face, and
my failing form—1 cannot last long.

“When I am gone, bury me in the canyon
and go your way, for there is gold there at
your commant ."

“ Do you think I would touch her gold,
mother?” . .

“Not after I have sinned to get it for
you ‘2”

“ No, no, never! I will see that every dol-
lar of it is devoted to some worthy charity,
while I will‘ hunt the valleys and hills here.
about for gold that I can come by-—” he al-
most saic “ without crime,” but added, “by
my own exertions.” ‘

“Do as you deem best,:rrny son, for the
world is before you, the past behind me. I
but await the end.”

‘ “Mother, I will not reproach you. We
will live here until I caulind a fortune in the
mines, which I will work for, and then we
will go elsewhere and 1. will try and make
you forget the past as much as possible. «

"‘ But now, before we put all this aside, let 
me tell you of myself, and how I, too, have » .'

suffered,” and he told of his arrest and tria? .
of his escape and flight, and that he owed I

to Anita Dangerfield that he had not died on v»

the gallows. ‘

Dora Sloanltrembled violently, and said
nothing .until he had told her all. Then she
said earnestly: ' I‘ , .

.,.G()d bless Anita 'Dangerfleld,-~ my son,
and as I fled with you from her presence,.
now I would that you could meet again.” ,

Several days after his arrival in the can:
you, Dare Sloan lwcnt with his mother to

Deadman’s Den, where the “Gold Witclt”, 
as all believed her to he, seemed lobe profi, ‘_
” 

in showing her splendid son to the miners
that queer camp. -

Often! the mother and son were seen tqitf
rether by the miners, seeming to be search-- ,
the mountains. streams and valleys, for ..

:n
no d, and then came the rumor that Dare
Devil, as they called the young man, was on
the trail of the road-“agents.

“This was true, for Dare had heard so
much of the red deeds of Captain Colorado-_

and.his men, that he lay in waitfor them, ,
hoping to clear the trail of such a, band '

gf cruel Adesperadoes as they had proven, to
‘ e. ; ‘ . V ,
Hi9 Plan was to lie in wait at a olnt Where
the were wont to attack the cone ,l and then v
das out upon! them, and in .each‘ case the,

driver and passengers had reported that/1,39»

had done deadly service
As the coach ran’ in to ,
evening. and out the next morning,

was on duty count.

_ 1 ,
- It was on one of his attacks upoll the road 

agents, that he had rescued Darke Danger' ‘

(field and his daughter greanyto the awful: ,  "
y

and deli ht of ob Howe,..and certain V
the satis action of the two 13888913913. and 
their admiration, too, at his (151198. lnidash. E. ,

ring Single-handed upon his fees. I .,

CHAPTER XXI.  't f

' l - LAs'r WORDng ‘
DARE SLOAN had“.  from his ' “
upon thawed-outlaws, dropping the one 

 

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D’ dm n’s Den One  ‘
w a“ he had a . 
Week ofi duty, but made the timeiwhen he a;

 

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‘-‘-.‘Ft'tl‘-"1A _' ' 

 
  
   
  
   
  
 

 
 

 

.4

 

mediately spurred out from his place of bid-
ing as the stage swept on. ,

He was taken aback slightly as he discov-
ered that Captain (,‘olorado rode out to meet
him, while from various plat-es of conceal-
ment shots rung out rapidly upon him,
showing that the outlaws were out in full
force.

Captain Colorado sent a bullet through
Dare’s left arm, but got one in his brain in
return and fell from his horse dead.

'l‘hen Dare, rattling forth shots, spurred
down the trail in flight, for he saw that he
had gotten into close quarters with a dozen
men about him. He was wounded in his
shoulder and leg slightly, as well as in the
arm, and his noble horse seemed to be hard
hit, for he staggered under him.

As he dashed around a bend in the trail,
while the road-brigands were mounting in
hot haste to follow him, he suddenly rode
upon a large body of horsemen coming on at
a fallop.

nstantly he halted, for he saw that it was
a company of cavalry, and called out:

“Come on, captain, ,‘for there are mad-
agenls around the bend .n pursuit of me.”

The officer in the lead called out:

“Ride alongside, sir, and we will charge
them!"

Then, around the bend dashed the cavalry
directly upon half-a-dozen outlaw horsemen
who were starting in pursuit of the bold
man who had done them so much harm.

There were sudden shots, saddles were
emptied, a cheer and a charge, and the sol
diers were upon the scene, with several road-

aiders dead and wounded in the trail.

A couple more were captured, and then
all assembled around two men who were
dying. ' ‘

~'l‘heir masks had been torn oil‘, and Dare
Sloan cried in amazmnent:

“ (frat God! you here, Dean Danger-
field ‘?

“And you, too, Burton‘s"

The former lay bruised and bleeding in the
trail, he having been the man who had stood
at, the heads of the lead-horses to the coach,
and had been trampled under hoof, while
Hal Burton was the one who had approached
the stage-door, revolver in hand. for Captain
Colorado had hung back to give his new men
a trial at highway robbery.

" Yes; and you are Dare Sloan!

“ I recognized you as you rode upon us. I
thought. you had died upon the gallows, but,
thank God, it is not so!"

“ No; I escaped. and Dean Dangerfield, I
would ask you before these officers and men
if you and Hal Burton believe me guilty of
the murder of Squire Benson.

"Speakl for you cannot live, for I verily
believe you have your death wounds!" and
Dare Sloan spoke in a voice intense in its
pleading.

Dean Dangerfield glanced
Burton and answered:

“1‘11 confess, Hal, for I know I cannot,
five; and besides, I owe Sloan my life,

“ Who is here to write down my con.

ion?"
fes'? Here, Surgeon Wentworth, you take
down his dying Words, and, Sergeant Lowe,
ou, Corporal Ham, and two of the men,
witnese with me what he says,” ordered
Captain Burr of the Fifth Cavalry.

The men stepped forward. While the sur-
geon took a pad 0f Paper frpm his saddle-
.pocket, along with a pen and ink.

Then the dying man said, in a low voice:

“I, Dean Dangerfield, son of Darke Dan-

ertleld, of Daisy Dell ,ManOK‘. Dear N—,

tate of New York, With the fear of death
before my eyes, do solemnly attest that Dare
Sloan, accused of the murder of Squire
Benson, and tried and comncted as a mur-
vderer, is wholly innocent of the crime, as l
and Hal Burton are the guilty persons.

“Hal Burton and myself had planned the
murder of squire Benson, who we knew

toward IIal

 

 

l

The Gold Witch’s Shadower.

, I
would return wrth money, and l fired the l

fatal shot; but we were surprised by the
sound of boots, and retreated to the shelter of
a tree near by, and, seeing a horseman, rode
out and accused him of murder, for we had
not the courage to kill him also.

“The pistol we found on the said Sloan
was afar—si/qu/e to my own, and that aided
us in the charge of murder against him, and,
to save ourseIVes from suspicion, we swore
his life away.”

“ Can you sign it?" asked Captain Burr,
hoarsely.

“Yes, I must.”

And, with a great effort, he did so, saying,
as he sunk back:

“ Now, Ilal, you sign also.”

llal Burton was raised '13  sitting posture,
and, taking the pen, he Wm"):

“ I swear this confession ..'..' the truth.

“ Dare Sloan is guiltless of Squire Benson's
murder.

‘ ‘ HEN av BURTON.”

“ Give me the pen,” and Captain Burr
hastily wrote the Word:
' “Witnesses.”

Then followed his name. The surgeon
signed it, being followed by Sergeant Lowe,
Corporal llain and two private soldiers.

“ Do what you can for them, \Ventworth,
to relieve their suil’ :l‘l  " said Captain
Burr, and turning to .L'var; who had stood
by, silent and stem, he said:

“Mr. Sloan, I congratulate you, sir, most
warmly. Ishall see that this confession is
sent at once to the judge whom you were
tried before, so that your iiinOCence shall be
made known.

“And, sir, permit me to say that through
you this band of road-a rents has been
broken up', for we certainly rave done good
work,” and the captain glanced about him.

As they could not bear the wounded away,
and they must soon die, the Soldiers went in-
to camp to bury the dead meanwhile, and to
remain until the following day.

Dare Sloan, as hisown horse had succumb-
ed to his wounds, said:

“' May I appropriate Captain Colorado’s
steed, sir?"

“Certainly, but we will appropriate you
for the night, as Surgeon Wentworth must
look to your wounds.”

“Thank you, sir; I will ask the surgeon
to he gomi enough to dress them for me, and
then I must go, for my mother lives over in
a canyon some half-dozen miles away, and
would be anxious ifI did not return."

Captain Burr said no more, and called to
the surgeon. who soon looked to the wounds
of Dare Sloan, none of them fortunately
being at all serious, though the one in the
arm had bled freely.

“I shall report your good service, Mr.
Sloan, and will address you at Deadman‘s
Den, while if you can visit me at the fort I
shall be glad to entertain you, I assure you.

“ Again I congratulate you upon your
escape from hanging for another’s crime.”

Dare turned away, after expressin r his
thanks, and went over to where Dean an-
gerfield lay. I

“The other‘s dead, air. and this one can-
not last long,” announced the sergeant.

“ Do you know me now, Dean?” asked
Dare in a kindly tone.

The eyes Opened slowly and the answer
came faintly: .

“Yes; but I dare not ask you to forgive
me."

“ I do forgive you, Dean

“Tell sister that. It will please her, for
she loves you, Dare, Ask her to forgive me,
too. I beg it with my last words."

“ 1 will, ’ was the firm reply, and, grasp-
ing the hand of the man who had so cruelly
wronged him he knelt by his side and remained
there for a long while. -

At last he arose, and said;

“ Bury him dw-entlv, sergeant, in a separ~
ate grave, here at the lane of this tree,” and

r

N
!

 

15

 

he slipped a golden souVenir into the hand of
the sergeant, and having transferred his sad-
d.e from his dead horse, to the. splendid ani-
mal which had belonged to Captain Colorado,
he mounted and rode aWay in the gathering
gloom, for night was approaching.

 

ClIAI’Tl‘llt XXII.
(itiNt‘LUsioN.

Tim news of the death of Captain Colorado,
and the almost utter annihilation of his band,
was carried to Deadman's Den the next day
by Captain Burr and his men, who stopped
at the I’ard's Paradise for breakfast.

Soon after their arriVaI the story had been
spread over the camps, and Darke Danger-
field had asked to see Captain Burr in his
own room, for the confession of two men,
Bfurton and Dan geriield, he had heard spoken
o .

The captain seemed surprised to find a
gentleman of Mr. Dangerfield's appearance,
and his lovely daughter, in Deadman's Den,
and could but say so; but he told what had
occurred, and was deeply pained to see how
he Wounded the father and sister of the dead
outlaw, for they told him what Dean had
been to them.

“I shall also write to Judge Yerdan and
to the attorney of the Benson estate the full
particulars of my son’s and Burton 's confes-
sion, Captain Burr, for justice must be at
once done that noble young man who has so
cruelly suilered at their hands. I shall visit
Dare Sloan to day and let him know who it
was he saved in the stage-coach yesterday,
and that my daughter and myself know all.

“ Yes, nothing must be hidden. and, if he
has suffered from supposed guilt, we must
not shield ourselves now we know who was
the guilty one."

“ it is just what should be done, Mr.
Dangerfield, and 1 know that Sfoan will not
SlilIt'l‘ at your hands now. lle is truly a
noble fellow, and I feel deeply for him.”

Soon aflerthe captain and his men Went
on their way, and llarko Dangerfield and his
daughter, with a guide, started on horseback
for the canyon of the Gold Witch.

The dog on walch signaled their approach,
and Dare went to meet them, crossing the
stream to~where they waited.

lie was amazed to see Darke Dangerfield
and his daughter in that. wild land; but he
was quickly led aside by Mr. Dangerfield,
who told him that all was known to him, and
he then explained just what had happened
at Daisy Dell Manor, adding: .

“ Now, Dean. my boy, you can return
home with no dread of a stain upon your
good name. You are heir to a great fortune,
so need not worry to try and find a fortune
in gold among these rugge hills.

“ But now, tell me of yet r poor mother.”

Dare Sloan was deeply moved by all that
had occurred, but said: '

“ My mother, sir, is no longer herself. You
would not know her, for her hair is as white
as snow.

“She seemed to break down rapidly after-
learning of my trouble, and yesterday took
to her bed, from which she says she will
never be able to rise.”

“(£th daughter will gladly go to her,
an —’

“ If she would only see her; but I will go
and ask her, if you will wait,” and he rode
rapidly hack to the cabin.

What he said to his mother brought the
earnest answer:

“If she would only come to me, for she
saved you from the gallows, my son; and
then. seeing me as I am, she may forgive
me.”

" Forgive you, mother?”

“Never mind; I will ask her toforgive
me for any sin I may have done against her.

“If she says she will forgive, then I will '
die content. And, Dare, bring him also, for

  

  

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-

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'051 Hound Boy
0892

 EIW ,‘ 

'16

 

l

 

with Death’s shadow resting upon me, i
am no: revengeful now.”

Rapidly did Dare return to Darke Dan—
gerfield and his daughter, and while they
accompanied him to his cabin, the guide
camped near to see if he could be of any
service to them.

The meeting of the poor woman and
those she had wronged, [ will not speak
of. Let the scene be sacred to them
alone.

The next day Anita returned to the
Pards' Paradise for their things, and dc—
voted herself to caring for the dying
woman.

One week after their coming Dora
Sloan died, and was buried in the canyon
near her cabin.

Then Dave gave into Mr. Dangerfield’s
keeping the goid‘dust found in the cave,
telling him to hold it until he knew
what he should devote it to, for he firme
declined to take a dollar of it for his own
use.

While Mr. Dangerfield and Anita went
to their home in Deadman's Den, Dare
Sloan started on his way to his old home
in the East. and was welcomed back by
Judge Verdan as from the grave.

As the papers proving his innocence
had been received, he at once began the
settlement of his :ii'?'~i">' 4 " ‘ mu‘.iin'r
Elmwood Hall and Daisy Dell Manor on
the market, they were sold, and, with his
other inheritance from Squire Benson, he
found himself a milionaire.

“ I shall never live here again," he said
to Judge Verdan as he bade him good—by.
one day, six months after his return to
his old home.

And he never did, for he went to a
Southern State, and on the shores of the
Mexican Gulf purchased a lovely home.

And to that home. one year after the
arrival of the Dangerfields in Deadman’s
Den, he carried the lovely and loving
Anita as his wife, and thither Darke
Dangerfield accompanied them, for they
were all he had in the wide world to love
and to love him. ‘

THE END.

Beadle’s Half-Dime library.

BY WILLIAM  PATTEN’.

029 Violet Vane, iilr Velvet. Short; or, The, Jubilee nt Jacktown
00:1 Violet Vane s Victory; or. The Jasper City Ciunn Out.
093 Violet and Daisy, the “av l‘anla. ‘
705 Violet Yunc’s Vow; or. The Crafty Dt-iCI‘ilVO’n Crsit.
724 Violet 1:11110'8 vengonnoe; orI'i'hB Vi'i e-Oui.
780 Violet Vanc’s Verdict: or,’i‘lu-Gamea Collin City.
741 Violet "one, the Ventrlh uiat Videcq: or, S wort rs. Sport.
750 Violet Vane, the Vnnqnil ml. or, The Lite. inmglu.
T68 Violet Valle :- Vision; or, 'I‘ht~ Firry Hand ot'Faic.
489 The Diamond Sport t or, The Domain Face of lied Rock.

19 On tun sly-tor sonny. in Ono.

81 Do I) "are the port from Denver.
587 Did liombsheli, the Ranger Detective.
“04 iron Fern "I" M an oi Fire: or, Among the Vultures.
019 The lloy ’l ramp Detective: or.1‘he Donbie GripWitneu
041 Dismal Dave‘s Dandy i’ard; nr,TheCiue to Capt. Clsw
1“ rank, the Young Amateur Detective

Id Vulcan, the Lone-Rama». Rider.

714 Did Misery the Man from Mia-curl.
774 Clear-.Grlt (ml, the Never-Snv-Dia Detective.
789 “am fihcrltlun, the Secret Service Special.
“00 (‘owboy fitevo the Ranch Mascot.
820 Nobhy Nat, the Tenuleti'uot Detective.
880 flitnrner Stoke‘s Double Deal.
85'! Spotter llob In New York.
800 Spotter Bob‘s ll owery Racket.

' BY JOS. E. BADGER. Jr.

9 Yellowstone Jack: or, The Tn er.
48 Black John the Road-Agent; or, a Outinw'l Retreat.
05 llurricanc Dill : or, Mustang Sam and His Ford.
119 Mun-tour Somkorflhe King ortho Plum.
180 Ni Int-l awk it: or, The Daughter of the Ranch.
1.44 Didnty Lance the Boy Sport.
151 Panther Paul: or,Dainty Lance to the Rescue.
160 The “lack Giant: or. Dainty Lance in Jeopardy.
1018 Deadly Dash‘ or, Fighting Fin with Fire.
184 The lloy Tra ion; or, Dainty Lance on tho War-Po
308 The Do l’ardst or. Dainty Lance Unmulu.
.11 Crooke Cale, the Caliban 01’ Celestial City.
810 The “firmne- Wolf: nr,Tho Beautiful Decoyf
819 The “lack Rider; or, The lione-Thievel' 1.9mm.
885 Did Double Fist or, The Strsnn Guido
 The '{In' of the nodal or. DMJIIl BOOBO’I Lat Tull.
9 Kit Fox. the Border Bov Detective.
25 claim-unit: Dan: the o Trailer.
077 Chineanin Dan at Recon Tra l.
085i Chincspin Dan’s Home Stretch.
098 Did Crazy, the Man Without a Head.
$08 Light-"cart. Lute’s Legacy.
18 Light-"cart Lute’s Last roll.
70!! tilllvm , t 0 Sims one.
99 Min-r - u c, the Hail-Blood; or. The Bowler Beagle at Bay.
9 ‘ , tho Hostile; or, The Border Besgle’u Trail.
live. .. .. the Friendly; or, The Border Bush’s Bome

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

llY lili)\V;\ Ill)

1) e a

1 Deadwood
20 Deadwood
138 Dead wood
85 Deadwood
42 Deadwood
49 Deadwood
5? Deadwood

‘ 73 Dead wood

77 Deadwood
100 Deadwood
101 Deadwood
109 Deadwood
129 Deadwood
138 Deadwood
1/19 Deadwood
156 Deadwood
195 Deadwood
201 Deadwood

05 Deadwood

i7 Deadwood
221 Deadwood
932 Gold-Dust.
809 Deadwood
808 Deadwood
309 Deadwood
821 Deal woot
847 Deni wood
851 Dem wood
802 Dem wood
405 Deadwood
4|0 Deadwood
421 Deadwood
480 Deadwood
418 Del“ wood
44H Dem wood
45“ Dent wood
459 Dem wood
405 Dead wood
471 Deadwood
470 Doudwood
4hl Deadwood
491 Deadwood
490 Dead wood
500 Dead wood
508 Dead wood
515 Dent wood
5932 Don: wood
52‘.) Dean wood
58-1 Dem Wood
580 Deadwood
ii 14 Deadwood
540 Deadwood
554 Deadwood
501 Deadwood
501 Deadwood
5.2 Deadwood
578 Deadwood
581 Deadwood
590 Deadwood
50."- Deadwood
000 Deadwood
000 Deadwood
012 Deadwood
018 Deadwood
02 I. Deadwood
0B0 Deadwood
030 Deadwood
642 Deadwood
.4 Deadwood
05-1 Deadwood
000 Deadwood
0 Deadwood
072 Deadwood
078 Deadwood
084 Deadwood
000 Deadwood
605 Deadwood
700 Deadwood
70-1 Deadwood
1'10 Deadwood
710 Deadwood
722 Deadwood
128 Deadwood
784 Deadwood
740 Deadwood
711-? Deadwood
752 Deadwood
758 Deadwood
70/1 Deadwood
2'70 Deadwood
770 Deadwood
782 Dead wood
78? Deadwood
792 Deadwood
70? Deadwood
802 Deadwood
80? Dead wood
812 Deadwood
810 Deadwood
822 Deadwood
8938 Deadwood
8 Deadwood
840 Deadwood
845 Deadwood
852 Deudwoo
858 Deadwood
863 Deadwood
870 Dendwaod
8 0 Deadwood
Deadwood
Dead wood

. Deadwood
90-1 Deadwood
910 Dead wood
910 Deadwood
928 Deadwood
984 Deadwood
940 [Deadwood
940 Deadwood
95l Deadwood
957 Deadwood
905 Deadwood
9f! Deadwood
977 Deadwood
986 Deadwood
999 Deadwood
998 Deadwood

 

a:
a.

113
631'!
12—5

(1 Dick

rogue-Au " ,. '

The Gold Witch’s Shadower.

l.. \VIIIGIGIJGR.
dwood Dick Novels.

Dick, the Prince oi the Road.

Dick's Dciiuncc; or, Dominic-Daggers.

Dick in Disguise; or. Built”) Bun-

Dlek lu Ills Castle.

Dick's Bonanza; or, The Phantom Miner.
Dick in Danger; ur,()mshnoii.

Dick‘s Eagles: or, The Panic oi Flood Bar.
Dick on Dot-k: or. (‘alamitv .‘ Int-,thn iinroine
Dick‘s Last Act: onCurdurn,‘ Charlie.
Dick in Lead\ ille.

Dick‘s De\ ice: or, The Double Cross Sign.
Die as Detective.

Dick’s Double: or, 'l‘in- (ioruon'u Gulch Ghost.
Dick’s Home "use; or, iiiund: liili.
Dick's "lg Nirlke' or, A Game oi Gold.
Dick oi Deadwoo t or. 'lhe l'irkcd Party.
Dick's Dream; or The Rivals of the Road.
mot-m \Vurdz or, in. Him-k nnr...i.-z.-i..1.
Dick‘s Doom i or, Calamity Jane’s Adventure.
Dick‘s Dcud "i Ill.

Dick'n Death-Plant.

Dick. A Rmnunrn- ot' Roughl- nnd Toughn,
Dlek's Divide or, The Spirit ofSwamp Lake.
Dick's Death 'rall.

"Iok’n Deal; or, The, Gold Brick of Oregon,

l Dick’s Dozen: or, The Faltir ni'i‘lmntornii‘latn

Dick's Duents; or, Days in the Digging".
 Stilllicilloi‘li: or, The Terrible 'endetta.
e "s ‘ a m.
Dick In Dead (‘iiy. ‘
Dick’s Diamonds.
Dick in New Y ork; or, A "Cute Case." "
Dick’s Dust; v-r, 'l‘iit‘ Chained “and.
Dick, vlr-t er, 'i he Crinmnn Crescent Sign.
Dick. J r.’s, Dellnncc.
Dick. .lr.’~ Full "and.
Dick. Jr.’s, "it: Round-17D.
Dicl.‘ .Ir.’s Racket at. (‘iaim 10.
Dick. .1 r.’s (‘orrnig nr, Bowman Bill.
Dick. Jr.'s. Dog Detective.
Dick. Jr., in Dead“ ood.
Dick, .ir.'s. ('ompact.
Dick .Ir.’s. Inheritance.
Dick, .Ir.’s Dif lugs.
Dick. Jr.’s. De veranee.
 gm?- 4"Irote¢ce.
e . r. s. tree.
Dick, .lr.’s. Danger Duekl.
Dick. Jr.’s. Death iluut.
chh. on. In Texas.
chk, .n.. a... Wild WentV'idocq
Dick. .ir., on Ills )Iettle.
Dick, .ir., ill Gotham.
lek .ir., In lioston.
Dick, Jr., in Philadelphia.
Bit-Li. sin, iAII“('lIi('1110.
e ’. r.. out.
Dick. an. In Denver.
Dick. .1 r.’s, Decree.
Dlek Jr.. in Deelzebub’s Basin.
Dick. .Ir., at Cone island.
Dick. Jr.’s, Lendvl le Lay.
Dick, Jr.. in Dctrolt.
Dick. Jr. in Cincinnati.
Dick. Jr., In Nevada.
Dick. .ir., in No Man‘s Land.
Dick. .ir.. After the Queer.
Dick Jr.. In llnll’nlo.
Dick, .1 r.’s, Chase Across the Continent
chk, .lr.. Among the Rllluggicrs.
Dick, Jr.’s Insurance, lose.
Dick, .lr.. iiack in the Mines.
Dick. .1 r.. In Durungo: or,“ Gathered In."
Dick, .ir.’s Discovery; or, Found aFortnne.
Dick. .lr.’s. Dazzle.
Dick. .ll'.’s. Dollars.
Dick. .l r.. at. Danger Divide.
Dick. Jr.’s, Drop.
Dick, .ir., nt Jack-Pot.
Dick .ir., in San Francisco.
Dick, Jr.‘s Still "uni.
’Diek, .lr.‘s Dominoes.
Dick, Jr.’s Disguise.
Dick. .il-.’-. Double Deal.
Dick Jr.’s. Deathwatch.
Dick, .lr.’u, lrouhlet.
Dick. Jr.’s, Deathblow.
Dick, .Ir.’s Desperate Strait.
ilek, .lr.’s, Lone "and.
Ick .l r.’s Defeat.
Dick. Jr.‘s, Resurrection.
wells. .'lr.’s"Dfitr;( Darn.
e ' . r.. e N.
Dick. Jr.‘n, Double Device.
Dlek, Jr’.s. Desperate Venture. 1
Dick, ’s, Diamond Dice.
11::(‘li‘i .Iir."s, ll'ioyathglush.
e',.r.s ca- .
, . 9 . .
lift: that; an.
nn-k,’ Jr.’s. scoop.
chk,. .ir.’s, Proxy;
Dick, Jr.’s, (‘Iutc .
Dick, .lr.’s, Ill h liorse.
Jr., at l evil’s Gulch.
Dick, .ir.’-, Death-little llustlo.
lick, .1r.’s Bombshell.
Dick, .lr.. in Mexico.
chk. Jr's Decoy Duck.
Dick, Jr. in Silver Pocket.
Dlek. .ir.’s, Dead-Sure Game.
Dick, .ir.’s, Double Drive.
Dick, r.’s. Trade-Mark.
Dick, Jr" at 'l lr-Top.
Dick. .ir.’s Dou tie-Decker.
Dick. Jr. at Dollar-ville.
Dick, Jr.. at. l‘lllsh Flats.
Dick. .lr.’s. i‘llilke-Ilr.
Dick. .ir.’s, Double 1 rop.
Dick, .ir.’s. Right. Dower.
Dick. Jr.‘s. Tea-St rike.
Dick. Jr.’s, Gold-Dust.

—
v

o

u-Id
v

w.

t.
2'

Dick. Jr.'s. 0ath.

Dick. Jr-‘s. Death-Doom.
Dick, Jr.'s. llest (lard.

lilck. .lr., at Gold Dust. )1

Dick. Jr.’ll, Dig I’la .

1005 Deadwood Dick, Jr.. Brande
1011 D'-..d .ro d D'ek. Jr.’s. Dutch Pan].
1018 Deadwood Die -. .l' 3s. Blgvli‘gur. 

mr '1". J. FLANAGAN.
I
909 Midshipman Dare. the Pirate Catcher.

925 The Youn
988 The Two

Cru

st:
330
11-3-2

 

Co 1:0 (in tain.
idsliipmyontpor, The Cormir-Chmr’l Fir-t

in.

he Three Lied enants

“3.3””? ii'é'r. r. r.
a“ ' ll r 0. . ‘

fang: Jack’s Mid les 3 or. Dandy Daw- Dub.

y 3 or. The Four Commandm.

972
999 Jack LII", the Privateer Reva.
1014 Mlddy Nod, the Runaway.

 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
       
  
    

 

 

iillli‘li‘.‘ 1.0 1111.1. 1VOVELS.

BY COL. I’RliN’I‘ISH INGDAFIAM.

1018 Buffalo illli' « ’i‘. xus Team.

100? ilnll‘ulo Bill's Nure-B’lnots.

I000 linii'nio Mill's Decoy Boys. I
995 Bull'an Bill‘s Drop: Ur, iiead~SlluL No.1 , the Kansas Kid.
lit-£8 iinll’nio Bill‘s Lasso Throwers.

981 liull'nlo Bill’s Fighting Five.

975 liull'uio Bill‘s I liiehllots.

968 iluil’alo Bill's Rush Ride: nr, Sum-Shot. thu High-Fly”.
90-i- liuli’alo Bill‘s Decoy; or, The Arizona Crark Shut.
95h Bull’qu Bill's Man-p m-(‘hnse.

948 Buffalo Bill‘s Snap-s vot : 0". Wild Kid's Texan Tally
942 Bull'qu Bill’s Tough Tussle. .

986 linil’nlo Bill‘s iloy Mascot; or. J0» Jnl‘vw' "old-up.
929 linil’alo Bill's Crack-shot Paul.

650 Bull'nio Hill’s Iioy l’nrd: 01‘. “HINT”? mil)”-

210 illson Bill. the Prince oi the Rains.

E22 Dison Bill’s (line: or. Grit, the thaw Sport.

BY BUFFALO BILL.

55 Deadly-Eye. the Unknown Scrut, or, The Banded Brotherhood
08 Border Iiobin lloodx nr,'l‘ha Prairie Rover.
158 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, The Trapper’u Trust.

llV '(iAI’I‘. ALFRED B. TAYLOR, I]. 8. A.

191 Buffalo liili ' the Boy Iiuliwhacker.
194 nutran mu s‘llet: «an... GnmblurGuidc.

 

BY COL. PREN’i‘ISS lNGRAHAM.

1023 The Cowboy Clan in (‘n'im

1010 The [to ' Dozier in (,‘nlm. . \ ’

98% New Yor ' Nat‘u Dru ,: or, lix-l'rrret hyken iii-id Gang-
26 New York Nut and t to 'lraltor Ferret.

920 New York hat. Trapped. v

914 New York Nat's Three of a kind-

ittts‘ New York Nat's Double.

902 New York Nnt’s In Colorado.

896 how York Nut in Gold Nugget Camp.

889 New York Nnt’s Deadly Deal.

888 New York Nut‘s Crook-Chase.

87’? New York Nnt's Trump Curd. ,

871 New York Nut. and the Grave Ghouls.

805 New York Nat's Masked Mascot.

859 New York N111. the Gnmin Detective.

8515 Dick Doom's Kidnap er Knock-lint.

847 Dick Doom’s Ten h‘tr kc.

842 Dick Dnom’s Flush "and.

772 Dick Doom's lit-utlI-Grlpg or, The Detective ‘uy Destiny.
7? Dick Doom’s Destiny; or, ’l'in- River Biarkleg'n Terror.

'ZNAL chk Doom: or. 'i he Sharps and Shark» oi New Yorit.

788 Dick Doom ill Boston; or, A Manet Many hinlkl.

793 chk Doom in 1'lllt'llK0.

798 Dick Doom in the “'1” “'esi. . I

808 Dick Doom’s (‘lean 8o eep: or, Fivu Links '1: a Line.

808 Dick Dootn’s Death fine.

sill! Dick Doom’s Diamond Deal.

819 Dick Doom’s Girl Mascot.

8130 Dick Doom’s Shadow Ilulli.

835 Dick Doom's lllu ilnul. I

749 Dashing (‘lmriiei or 'lhe Kentucky Tenderiom’aFlratTrniu

750 Dashing: (ilutrilc’s Destiny; on“!!! Revenue-'3 Cnptlvv.

700 Dun-him: (‘hnrile’s l'nwnec ’ul' .

760 Dashing Charlie, the Rearuer.

497 Rock Taylor, Kill}: 0t th.~ Cowboys.

78'? Buck Taylor. the (‘onmnche’s (.mtive.

743 Burk Tn vlors,‘ may"; «r,’i‘he i“..— Raiera otthe Ric Grands.

560 Pawnee ill], the Prairie Shadow-er.

713 Pawnee Bill; or. Purl, the Mad (QWilOY- ‘

719 Pawnee lilil‘s I’ledu'et 0?. HIM Owi'oy IDouin.

725 Pawnee Dill: nr. Dnringl’iw-

“92 "edfcrnrl Curhnu Cage; m, Thi Rival Sharps.

69’: Ilcdt'ern at De vli’s lillllelll] 0r.'ri"~‘5il"'i' "0'" T9!“-

708 Iiedl'ern’s High "and: “I'._3i“° Judi“.

707 Rodi’ern’s Last 'l‘rui : 6.11m Rad SOInbrvroRnnsm-

And Fifty others.

av LIEU’I‘. A. K. sms,

589 Tom-Oat, and I’ardt nr.The Dead Set at Siiwr City.
029 'i‘oIn-(lnt’s Triad: or. The Atiuir at Tombstone.
681 Tom Cat’s Terrible ask: “V.TheCowhoyDrtoctivo.
088 Tom-Cat’s 'l‘rlunnph' or. Blltk Dan's Git-It! Combine.
540 Captain Cactus tiw éimpttrrai (Tm-k; or. Josh’s Ten Strike
508 The Dandy of Dodge: or. Ruhliing ior Millions.
570 The Hllver Sport: nr. Josh Peilpernniut'sJubilee.
583 Safl'ron Fol. the Man Wltln_a Shadow
001 Ila pv Ilans, the Duich1idnrq: or,Hot.Thm-uat Round-Up
01 1 litigad Barnacle, the Detective Hercules.
040 Cowbo Gld the Cattle-Rnnze Detective.
057 Warbl nu- VVilllam the Mountain Mountebnnk.
065 Jolly Jeremiah. the Plains Delecilve.
ORB fit an] Sam, the Lookout. Scout.
089 ill ly the Gypsy Spy: or.’i‘im Mvstrrv oi'i‘wo Liven.i

90 Simple film, the Rmnriw Buster: onil‘or lg Stakes.
719 The, Mesmerist 8901'" 0?. The lily-titled Detective.
788 Toltee Tom, tha Mm! Prospector.
745 Kantian Jim, the “roan-(hit Detective.
101 Marmaduke, the hit-stunner Detective.
1‘78 The Hustler ot’ Rolling Stone.

85 Lone "and Joe the Committee at One.
801 Kent Kirby, the limb-Kicker irom Killbuck. .
839 The Doctor Dete ctlve in Texas. b
810 Two Show-men Detectives In Colorado.
93’? The Texan Fin-brand: or. Briton Billy’s Snap.Shot.
961 The Trump‘s Trump-Trick.

NEW ISSUES.

1031 The Texan llustlcrs in Cuba. By Col, 1'. lngrahsm.
1032 Cowboy Chris. the Man of Caliber. By “'m. W. VVIider.
wits You Bet iiob's Circus. By Arizona (‘y.

1084 The Gold “'ltch’s Shadower. By Col, P. lngrnham.
1085 Antelope Abe, the Bow Guide. By Oil (Women.

JUST ISSUED.

21024 Dandy Dick, Detective. 1;)— Robert R. lnmnn.

1085 The Flying Yankee or, The Ocean Outcast. l‘y COL
P. ingrahmn.

1026 The Three Spotters. By Marcus ii. Waring.

1027 The Cowboy Raiders in Calm B)‘ (“L lilh’fsham.

1028 The Young skipper’s Bonanza. B)’ Hamid PRyDE.
029 The l’hantnm Spy. By Bufl‘nln Bill.

1030 The Rang-hawk Four Millions. By Leon Lewis.

A New Issue Every Tuesday.

The Half-Bind Library is for Ill. by all “Indolent, In
“I per copy, or sent hy‘tnsil on receipt ot Ii: cut. out. I

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishern,

 

92 William Street, New York.

1