Copyrighted, 1889, by 83AM: nu) ADAMS. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y‘. as Second Class Mail Matter. August 24, 1559.

 

N0  $2.50 Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams, I’rlce V01 
I I I l

v 1 .
n ‘l 93" No. 98 WILLIAM Sn. NEW YORK. “"6 05"“-

 

 

 

 

 

8

Detective German Joe.

 

Detective German Joe;

The Flying Dutchman Out West.

 

BY HOWARD M. BOYNTON,
AUTHOR or “ THE BOY 300mm,” um, ETC.

 

CHAPTER I. ‘
A WANDERING MINSTREL.

“ LOOK oudt, yo” son—iif—avgun; don’dt yo’ see
dodt horse? Maype yo’ own t’is rout, ain’d it?”

The speaker re ained his feet and flashed a
dark-lantern in t 9 face of the man who had
just collided with him.

’“Ut yo’ vent der hull roat, vy’u t’under
dond’t yo’ take id in do daytime and not prowl
arount ad dis time at night?”

“ Who in blazes are you?" growled the other,
tryin to dodge the blinding glare of the lan-
tern, ‘and what do you want here?”

“ I don‘dt vent nothin’ of you; budt veu some
vild Indian tries to climb ofer me in de dark,
unter de impression flat I ain‘t vurth noticin’,
he ile likel to gedt left, ain’t id ?” V

“ All rig t, Dutchy, responded the man. “I
didn’t mean to run into you, and I guess you
didn’t try to telescOpe me, so we’re square. ’ve
got my arms full or I'd shake. Belong!"

“ Dutchy ” remounted his horse and continued
his journey along the narmw road that led from
Placer Ranch down through Horseshoe Valley to
Silverside. He had left the latter village late
in the evening, and had not expected to encoun-
ter any one on the lonely road.

' About half a mile from Placer Ranch he had
collided with a mounted horseman, whom he
recognized as one of the leading citizens of the
town toward which he was traveling.

But what surprised him most, was that the
man carried in his arms the unconscious form of
a beautiful young lady. “ Dutchy” had lived

long enough in that Section of the countryto
understand the meaning of the axiom, “ Mind
your Own busnness,” and he concluded to say

_ nothing about his adventure in Placer Ranch.

V And so he Journeyed leisurely on in the dark-

11935. occasionally roaring out some favorite
Qerman’ song:

' “ Dee's when a flvin‘
9. r0 (- or (5 on
Look oudt fur mg! def Ships.
“ He stole enou h to u a ho L,
In oot oldtgGermgnYeE. use
And ere he lived his vicked life—
Look oudt fur me! ~

’ “ Unit £61113; tied llije lefit a. son,
. c .poy v as e.
He kills der beo lee lik , h's
Look oudt-ddt’s me 3’ 1 pa“

r This simple ditty seemed to suit him better
than all others. for he sung it a half-dozen

"re ,tvt. .

,N.‘

e

\

 

V ‘ times and might still have been singing it had
fl 3;; the lights ‘of Placer Ranch greeted hisl

   

\

,,,,

 

 

“ Veil. ve vhas in der town, not now led’s see 
ut der Flyin’ Dutchman kin findt a place to lay , ,
his veary headt.” A

He fastened his horse, with the help of a pad— I

lock and chain, to a tree near the entrance of 

the “ Golden Garter,” and then walked into that  '

hospitable place for a  of beer. ' 3, , *
I ,

“Hi, dare. Dutchy
standing about the bar.
in?

“ I didt nod plow in,” replied the person atl-
dressed. “ 1 shust come in from Silverside unt
I vant a trink» come oop, poys."

The “poys.” about twenty in number sur-
rounded the bar and drank at the expense of
our German friend.

“Now, uf I can gedt accommodations fur
myself und horse, I reckon I vhas—”

Crack! ,

The sharp report of a rifle. accomfiauied by
the crash of less interrupted the spea er, and a
bullet burl itself in the bar within two inches
of his head. ,

Crack! crack! .

Two more bullets whizzed through the air
and this time the “Flying Dutchman” fell
heavily to the floor.

The inmates of the saloon, although accus-
tomed to all phases of border life, were thrown
into great excitement over this deliberate at-
tempt at murdering the new—comer. A dozen
men with drawn revolvers sprung out of the '
door and another dozen rushedlto the broken
window from which the shots had come. ‘

Little Pete, the proprietor of the place, came
from behind the bar and knelt by the side of the
fallen man, who slowly opened his eyes and
glanced about the room.

P‘; Wharld»,ther bullet strike ye?” inquired
e e. ta, ,4?
“I vhas not shot ad all,” replied the Dutch—

man. “ I ontly fell town so as to make peliet I

vhas hurdt, ain’t id?”

“Do you know who fired the shots?" asked
Pete. ” It ain’t often a man’is fired at like that
fur nothin’.”' ‘

“ I don’t know,” said the other, rising to his

yelled one of the men 9
“How did yo‘ blow

 
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
   
 

 

 
       
       
      
        
       
 

feet; ‘,‘ No Von vould gain anything by shootin’
me.
“ What’sgéz’r name?” /
“ Joseph hler ere-German Joe fur short. I

     

shust come from ilverside, not I haf no enemies
as I knows ut. r
Pete returned to his place behind the bar and
resently the men who had left the room at the
discharge came back and reported that
they had discovered no trace of the would-be
murderer.” ’ 7
German Joe a ain invited the ‘.‘ oys” up to
the bar,aud whie they were drinliing to his
future good health and rosperity. the door
opened and a well-dresse , aristocratic-looking
man of about fifty years of age, hurried into
the room. , ’ , _
“Quick, Pete!” he exclaimed. “Get out a
dozen of your fastest horses. My daughter has
been stolen, and unless we can get the trail of
tililenvillains now, we may not be able to do so at
a . ' '

    
      
    
        
       
    
   
    
       
       
   
      
        
 
     
      

blot only. the proprietor  of the “Golden
Garter,” but every man within the sound of the

-

        
 

’l

 

 

 

  

 

Detective German Joe. 8

 

speaker’s voice threw down his glass and sprung
toward the door.

Pete unlocked the entranceto the hotel stables,
and in a few momentsa score of excited men
were galloping rapidly toward Silverside.

The name of the man who had just aroused
the citizens of Placer Ranch to such a marked
degree. was Colonel Harris Denmore.

He and his invalid wife and only daughter
had started nearly a. year ago from Denver to
take a trip in a pair of prairie schooners across
the elevated plains of Colorado for his wife’s
health. They had stopped at Placer Ranch on
account of its unusually heatbful climate, and
at the time of which we write, Mrs. Denmore
was ve much improved in health.

The aughier, Grace, was a very beautiful
young lad of about seventeen, and during her
stay in Pacer Ranch,had made friends with
nearly all of its rough residents.

One of the buckskin desperadoes of the place,
a rather good-looking man by the name of Nick
Goodloe, had fallen violently in love with Grace,
and had attempted for a long time to pay her
his disagreeab e attentions; but she and her
father objected to this, and for some time before
the girl’s disappearance Nick had ceased his
persecutions.

All this Colonel Denmore told his companions
as they sped rapidly toward his residence, which
was situated nearlya. quarter of a mile from the
town.

Arriving there, search was at once made for
some clew to begin their work upon. It was
discovered that the girl had been taken from a
hammock in the front yard and carried to the
road, evidently by a single person.

No signs of violence were visible anywhere,
and it was clear that she had either been too
much frightened to strug is or had swooned of
tri ht in the grasp of her 'dna per.

he trail, followed by the nx-e ed scout
known all ovar the West as id eon, led
straight toward Silverside.

“I guess he]! of us had better foller up the
trail and the rest will stay here and see if we
kin flnd anythin’. Mebbe' Nick Goodloe's got ’1'
hand in this.”

Thus 30113 Little Pete, and adozen of the
garty l by Kid Keen galloped away toward

ilverside.

German Joe had followed the men fro
Placer Ranch and was just about to explain his
adventure of the night before, when, with a
cry of delight, one of the searchers held aloft a
keen‘bladed bowie-knife.

“_Hcre’s suthin’ I found by this tree,” he said.
excitedly. “It’s got some one's name on its——
J—o—s-e—p-b, Joseph, S—c~h-l-e-r-g-e-r. That’s ther
Dutchmen there.” ‘

A helf~dozen hands were laid on the Dutch-
man and Little Pete drew a dangerous-looking
revii ver from his belt.

“ See here, Dutchy, what do you know about
this? Speak on nick.“

Joe was too muc surprised for a moment to.
open his mouth.

‘f Id vhas nod 20,” he gasped, at length. “ I
don’t k'iow noddings aboudt dod gurl. I
nefer—” .

“ What’s the trouble, boys?” inquired a new-

 

comer, interrupting the speaker, who rec
nized in him the men he had met on the Silver-
side road the night before. “Is this a hangin’
party?”

“ No, it ain’t, Nick Goodloe," replied Little
Pete. “But it’s likely to be before long.
Whar’ve yo’ been i!" ,

“ None of yo’r business,” rctorted the other.“
“ Mebbe ryo’ve got a right to know whar I’ve
been but kal’klate yo’ ain’t—not to-night.”

Pete glared angrily at Nick but that individ-
ual was not to be disconcerted. ,

“ Waal, ef yo’ don’t want’r tell what yo’ wuz,
mebbe we kin make yo’ tell,” said the former,
motioning to the men.

h Nilck sprung back, drawing a revolver in each
an .

“ I don’t know what you tellers air drivin’ at,

but it’ll cost yo’ sunthin’ to fool with me,” he

cried. “ .What’n thunder is all this about?”

His apparent ignorance disarmed Little Pete
of suspicion and B said, more pleasantly than
before:

“ Ef yo’ don‘t know what’s happened, it’s time
we told you. Grace Denmore has been kidnap-
ped, cm’ we know you, took her I”

Pete threw out this bluff with a coolness that
surprised his hearers, Nick most of all. '

“ Well, of thet don’t beat all I ever see! It
wuz only last night that I met this Dutchman
here a-cai ryin’ Miss Grace out to'ards Silverside,
an’ when I interfered be shot my horse from un-
der me an’ escaped. I wnz just oomin’ here to
tell the kernel.

The crowd of men gathered about German Joe
and regarded him ominously.

'"Dumbyi’mfiid LittlePete.ti htening hisgrip. ‘ ‘ "

on the prisoner. “ Lead us to 1; ct gurll”

Joe was looking straight into the polished bar,
rel of Pete’s six-shooter and he knew that there
was a dangerous man behind it, but he never
flinched. " , ~

“I don’t know noddings aboudt dod urll” he
protested. “I nefer see her in my lie. I.an
night I medt dis man on ter rout to Silversite
mit a pooty young gurl in his arms but I nefer
thou ht as he vhas aetealin’ her.” ,

“ nd where did this knife come from then?”

ueried one of the men. “ It’s got yo’r name on
t or handle." V

Joe shook his head.

“ I nefer see dot knife pefore.
dose t’ings.”

“ Mebbe yo’ don‘t, but I reckon we’ll hold yo’
till ther boys come back,” said Little Pete.

The men remounted, and, accompanied by
Colonel Denmore, whose broadcloth contrasted
strangely with the motle garments of his com-
panions, started back to lacer Ranch.

During the trip. Joe did a great deal of think-
ing and it did not take him very long to reach
the conclusion that his absence would be refer-
able to his presence and that locality or the
next few days.

He saw that circumstances were dead against
him and that he could scarcely hope to clear
himself, at least while a prisoner. with no one ,
tohelp him. This passed quickly through his v
mind as the party sped along the Horseshoe
Valley road which he himself had travemed only
a tow hours betore. ' i

I don’dt carry ,

(‘-

 

 

 

  
   
 

 

 

 

 

4 ‘ Detective German Joe;

 

“ T’ere vhas only Von vay of clearin’ myself,
und dot vas to escnbe now. out den find oudt
vote the girl is hid,” thought Joe. “ Dodt scoun—
dual, ,Nick vill ledt them kill me of I don’dt light
on t.

When the horsemen were within hailing dis-
tance of Placer Ranch there was a sudden com-
motion in the rear of the party, followed by a
score of pistol-shots as one of the riders flew
down the road toward Silverside.

“ Ther Dutchman’s escaped,” yelled one of the
men. “ He keeled Bill Taylor over and sneaked
out like lightnin’.” ,

“ Chase him!" roared Little Pete, wheeling his
horse around. “ Git out your shooters and let
him hev it.”

The entire party put spurs to their horses and
in the early morning twilight, flew down the
road in full put-Suit of German Joe. ' ,'

 

CHAPTER II.
THE BADGEBS' NEST.

GRACE DENMORE sat in her, hammock under
the shade of a spreading oakz swinging gently
back and forth. She had laid down her book
and was thinking of her home in the East, and
wondering how long it would be before she

' could return to her friends.

“Malnma's much better now, and I wouldn’t
be surprised if we started East in a. few weeks.
I‘m sure I’ve had enough of Colorado and—”

Her thoughts were violently disturbed by the

‘ sudden appearance of two men, one of whom
rushed upon her without ceremony and threw a

' geavy dark blanket over her head and shoul—
ers.

‘She tried to scream but the sound of her voice
was deadened by the folds of the robe, and in
another instant, in spite of her struggles, she
was being carried quickly toward the road.
The excitement and rough treatment were too
much for her, and, by the time her captors had
reached their horses she had fainted.

Nick Goodloe, for he the kidnap was, took
leave of his accomplice, and with his fair burden
in his arms, mounted one of the horses and set
out for Silversme at a rapid gait.

‘ Silverside was, at the time of which we write,
a smaller town than Placer Ranch, but was
noted throughout the country as a resort for
troughs and toughs of the worst class. It was,
in fact, merely a’collection of gambling houses,
saloons and concert halls.

, One of the largest of these, called the “Badg-
ers’ Nest,” had a reputation that made it famous
all over the West and was not infrequently
heard of in the “ States.”

It was kept by 9. man named Dacy who was

‘ himself known as a “ bad man” and had set the
corner stone of the village cemetery by shoot-
ing the first person who had dared to intimate
that he wasn't the biggest man in J unite.
county.

To this place, Nick Goodloe took the uncon-

, anions Grace Demnore. The proprietor had

evidently been expecting the arrival, for a suite
of, rooms on the top floor had been prepared for
the girl’s reception.

“ Take good keer uv her, Phil,” said Nick to
Dacy as he delivered Grace into the latter’s

.

.r

 

  

keepin . “ Ef anythin’ happens to thet gar},
remem r you’ll hev to account to me."

“ She’s ez safe here ez she Would be at hum,"
repliedaDac . “ I’ll see that she’s treated like a
princess, an of any one goes foolin’ aroun’ her—
well, yo’ know me I”

Nick smiled at this significant remark, and
remounting his horse, rode slowly back toward
Placer Ranch. When he reached the residence
of Colonel Denmore, he heard the excited talk
of the party which that gentleman had organ-
ized to go in search 0E his daughter, and think-
ing that it would be best to put a bold face on
the matter, he deliberately rode up to them, in-
quiring the reason of the unusual commotion.

The result of his appearance has already been
recorded. His story of meeting German Joe
during the night had removed suspicion from
himself and fastened it more firmly upon the
Dutchman. When he was told of the discovery
of the knife bearing Joe’s name, he was very
much puzzled, but concluded that his partner
must have dropped it. \

Nick accompanied the party on the return to
Placer Ranch, and when Joe made his escape
he was one of the first to join the pursuit.

“Wa-al, boys,” said Little Pete, when, two
hours later, they drew rein in Silverside.
“ W’e‘vetracked ther Dutchman here, but whar’n
thunder is he hid? Let’s begin by searehin’ ole
Dacy’s nest.”

“ Good, ides,” assented Several. “ Ef he’s got
too much uv a crowd here there mought be a.
fight, howsomever." ~

“He won’t fight over‘thet Dutchman,” re-(

turned Little Pete, dismounting. “An’ of he
does, I reckon we kin jest about raise him out‘n
his hand.”

The rest dismounted, and were immediately
Eined by the part under the leadership of Kid

can, which had eft Colonel Denmore’s house
to trace the trail of the kidnappers.

“ We tollered it clear to within a. hundred
yards uv that tree by Cody’s cattle trail,” said

Keen. “An‘ then ‘we lost it dead. Seems
mighty user.” v ,
Little ete hastily recounted the escape of

German Joe, and told him that the Dutchman
was evidently in hiding somewhere in Silver-
s e.

“We ar’ goin’ to begin by turnin’ old Dacy
inside out,” said Pete, to whom the task was by
no means unpleasant. “Git yo’r boys ready,
for mor’n likely he’ll show fight.”

Dacy, on the inside of the “ Badgers’ Nest,”
regarded the warlike preparations with aston—
ishment and dismay.

“ What’n thunder are them tellers arteri” he
growled to himself. “ It must be they're here

fur ther gurl, but by the eternal, they’re hain’t "

enough men in Colarady to take her. I jest
about kal’klate to keep my paWs on that woman
and let Nick Goodloe go some’ars else fur his
wife. Mebbe I’m an ole—— There they air,
poundin' on the door.” r _

Dacy went to the door and inquired:

" What’n in blazes do yo’ want here atone a
man’s up? The Nest hain't open yet.” _

“ We want some one yo’vs got hld in yore,"
replied Little Pete. “An’ we come preparedto
git what we Want. 866 V ’

 

  

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 
   

 

 

   

Detective German Joe. 5

Dacy thought he saw, but he didn’t. The de-
mand for some one whom he was kee ing bid
was thought by him to refer to Grace enmore,
and he acted accordingly. Without replying
to Little Pete, be rushed up-stairs, woke up the
couple of dozen men who were regular lodgers
at the “ Badgers’ Nest,” and while they were
dressing, he bariicaded all the doors and win-
dows in the house.

Little Pete on the outside noted those prepara-
tions and was immensely pleased.

“ I-le’s got ther boy sure, and Won’t giv’ him
up. Probably Dutchy hez paid him well ter
keep him safe, an’ ole Dac reckons we won't
tr to take him by force. aal, mebbe not.”

{little Pete and his followers, numbering now
about thirty men, tied their horses out of istol~
shot and then cautiously returned to the “ est.”

Nick Goodloe had up to this time followed the
leadership of Little Pete, but when he heard of
the scheme to search Dacy’s house, he openly
rebelled.

“ What’s ther use uv havin’ some uv ther
boys shot fer nothin’i” he argued. “ Dacy’ll
kill a dozen of yees afore o’ git through, an—”

“0h, shot up,” cried etc. “Don’t yo’ see
he’s got ther Dutchman or he wouldn’t mind our
goiu’ inside. Ef we git him we kin make him
show us whar he’s hid the: gurl.”

This logic failed to satisfy Nick, but he was
forced to enter the raid or show the white
feather, and so he fell in line, cursing the luck
that led the party to the very hiding-place of the

girl.

Little Pete first had the house surrounded and
then, with a dozen of the party’s best, made
ready for an assault on the front entrance.

‘Kid Keen and five others were stationed about
fifty yards in front of the house with loaded
rifles covering every window. I

“ Ef a head appears anywhar put a bullet in
it,” were Pete’s terse instructions and his fol—
lowars were prepared to carry them out to the
latter.

Thus, protected from the shots of their ene-
mies, Little Pete led a furious onslaught on the
front door. A lon blunt log was used as a
battering-ram, but fore much effective work
was done the bullets were flying back and forth
between Keen’s men and the front windows and
Pete was obliged to hasten to his lieutenant’s
aid.

The windows of the house fairly blazed with
rifle flashes, for Dacy had rallied all his men to
his assistance, and was prepared to lay out all
J unita county if necessary.

The long—standing rivalr between Placer
Ranch an Silverslde had Keen brought to a
climax, and must new result in victory for one
of the contending factions.

Before a half-hour of this kind of fighting was
passed, Little Pete saw clearly that his party
was getting the werst of it, and finally with—
drew all his men out of wage for a consulta-

txon.

Nick Goodloe was dispatched back to Placer
Ranch for reinforcements, a committee was ap-
pointed to care for the wounded, and the attack
Emmptly renewed. Two men were already

illed outright and the blood of Placer Ranch
came to the front.

  

 

Cracki' Crack! Crack! Crack!

The sound of. exploding shells echoed like fire—
crackers within the walls of the “ Nest,” as
with a steady hand Dacy kept the fire trained
upon the skirmishing line of the enemy.

The third person to be carried from the field i
was Little Pete, and as he was laid by the side
of the other two, his friends shut their teeth
hard and gripped their hot weapons with a de-
termination to die if it was necessary in the de-
fense of the honor and dignity of Placer Ranch.

Kid Keen, with something of the quick in~
tuition that characterizes all great generals, saw
plainly that this kind of fighting would never
bring about the desired end. To win a victory
out of the seeming defeat that now confronted
him, he must force an entrance into the house—
and without delay.

To this end he reformed the line of battle,
sending half the party to cover the front win—
dows while he led the other half iii an attack on
the door.

By the very liberal use of the batterin r-1*am
the door was forced from its hinges and nally
fell with a crash on the inside.

“ Forward,” yelled Keen, springing into the
building at the head of the Placer Ranch con—
tingent. “ Now we’ll give the rascals a taste of
their own medicine.”

The entrance was effected into the main room
of the “Nest” occupying the entire first floor.
In one corner a broad stairway led to the sleep-
in rooms overhead.

een rushed for this stairway, but half-way
up they were met by a sharp fire from the open
door at the top, and sent headlong back again.

“ Charge!” shouted Keen, almost frenzied by
the repulse, and leaving their dead and dying
behin them, the brave little party sprun
straight toward the muzzles of their enemies
rifles, gleaming through the doorway.

CHAPTER III. ,
GERMAN JOE ON DECK.

WHEN J on put spurs to his horse and esca
from Little Pete just as his party was entering
Placer Ranch, he had already Prepared a plan .r
of action for clearin himself 0 the unpleasant
charge. ,He knew ut could not prove that
Nick Goodloe was the real kidnapper and his
reason for taking so direct a route to Silver-
side was to keep as far as possible in Nick’s
tracks.

For a few minutes after his flight the bullets
whistled unfileasantly close to his ears, but by
the time he ad again reached Colonel Denmore a
residence he had left his pursuers far in the
rear. To escape a. possible meeting with Kid
Keen and his followers Joe left the main road
when near Silverside and took a cattle—trail
running south to Cody’s ranch and from there
to the village.

This trail he followed into Silverside and find-
ing no evidences of the Placer Ranch party
there, he entered the “Badgers’ Nest” for a
few moments‘ rest. The bar—room was deserted
and after searching about for the proprietor of
the place Joe started up—atairs.

To his surprise no one was on the landing to
intercept him and so he kept on, passing into the
hall abovo. -

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a Detective German Joe.

 

“ Wa—al, t'is vhas a queer place, ain’t id?" be
muttered. “No von aroundt to vait on cus-
tomers. Hello, vhas is dis?"

He picked up a dainty little handkerchief
from the floor and glanced at the name in the
corner.

“Shimmany, budt dis takes der cake! Dis
vhas der nzime iif der gurl dodt vhas stolen.
She musdt be kept hid here some’ars.”

Before Joe could continue his investigations
a door down at he other end of the hall opened
andaman rush d out. At the same time a
party of horsemen came galloping up to the front

cor.

Joe shrunk back against the side of the hall
as Dac ran dhwn-stairs and bolted the door.

“ Va 1, dis vhas a funny scrape. Dose peo-
bles from Placer Ranch are oudt in front look-
iii’ fur me unt dodt man t’inks they’r’ nrfter
der gurl."

Thus mused Joe as he retreated into a small
room, the door of which stood conveniently open.
Here he stayed during the entire battle. The
sharp reports of the rifles, the crashing in of the
door and the hoarse orders of Dacy could all be
distinctly heard, and when the charge was iiinde
on the stairway and the Placer Ranch men re-
pulsed, Joe could hold in no longer.

He rasped a revolver in each hand and just as
Kid een and his followers made their second
onslaught, the little Dutchman opened fire on
the enemy’s rear.

Attacked on both sides byarunning fire of
small-arms, Dacy became completel paralyzed
and precipitately retreated. Kid eon, flushed
and triumphant, came running in, followed by
his brave little band, just in time to see German
Joe, standing with his back to the wall, keeping
at bay a score of maddened men.

“ 1 vhas der Flyin’ Dutchman and der fu’st man
dodt raises a shooter vill gedt hurt. dond’t id.”

“ That’s right, Dutchy,” cried Keen. “ Keep
them there ti l we git loaded up.”

This bit of facetiousness was lost on Dacy’s
men who losing all control of themselves made a
rush for Joe.

Crackl Crack-k-k-kl

A flame of fire leaped from each pistol-barrel
and the crowd cowered back again. Keen had
by this time taken in the situation and his men
ran ed themselves alongside of the Dutchman.

“ ow then, Dacy, we’ve got what we come
for an' with yo‘r permission we’ll retire,” he said
calmly.

Dac eyed him ominously.

“ hat d’ye mean by this, you—”

“ Nefer yo’ mint v’at he means,” interrupted
Joe. “I vant yo' to listen to me.”

" Yo’ shot a ,” roared Dacy. ‘ivYo’ danged
sneakin’ little utchman, what’n blazes air yo’
doin’ here anyway 7”

J09 was repaired to answer this nestion sat-
isfactorily at was interrupted by een.

“ Come out now, we’ve got what we want,”
and he laid his hand on J oe’s shoulder.

The party moved down-stairs and out of the
house, while Dacy and his men set to work to
clear up the scene of battle and care for their
wounded companions.

Little Pete and three other Placer Ranch
citizens who had been injured were carried to

 

 

the ‘ Golden Garter" in a wagon, while the two
dead men were placed in charge of the local un-
dertaker.

Kid Keen was at a loss to know how to treat
German Joe. The young fellow had proved to
be an adept at shooting, and had practically
saved the day for Placer Ranch. Still he was
suspected of kidnapping the girl, and it would
scarcely dotolet him eSCape without investi-
gating the evidenee against him.

Keen did not like to keep Joe a prisoner, but
he explained the situation as plainly as possible,
and the “ Flying Dutchman ” readily consented
to accompany the party back to Placer Ranch
and not to renew his efforts to escape.

Joe told Keen on their way back of his ad-
venture with Nick Goodloe the night before,
and of his finding the handkerchief bearin
Grace Denmore’s name in the “ Badgers’ Nest.

“I don’t know noddings aboudt dodt knife
wit my name on it v’ich t’ey found py t’e ham-
mock. I nefer see t’e knife store totay," he
concluded. “ Id must hef peen trapped t’ere py
some von who vented to is it on me.”

Kid Keen listened in si ence to Joe’s story,
and then held out his hand.

“ I don’t believe yo’ did it,” he said, frankly.
“And ef yo’ didn’t, we’ll cum pooty near ketch-
in’ tlier right person. Whur do yo’ stop in
Placer Ranch?”

“1 haf nodt got an place yet, budt Ivhas
Sxpectin’ to stay at ittlo Pete’s," answered

0e.

“ Well, mebbe yo’d like to bunk with me.
I’ve got a ty decent house down in ther vil-
lage, an’ e yo’r’ willin’ I’d like her hev you stop
there.”

J oe accepted the invitation gladly, and when
Placer Ranch was reached be accompanied Kid
Keen to his home, where he passed the rest of
the day and the succeeding night.

Quite early the next morning the two friends
were in earnest consultation over their break-
fast in Keen’s cabin. Joe was in favor of a
direct attack upon the “ Badgers’ Nest,” and a
forcible rescue of the girl from Dacy’s clutches,
but Keen thought it better to obtain her re-
lease, if possible, by other means.

The latter’s counsel prevailed, and the new-
mnde friends separated. Joe started out to find
Nick Goodloe and follow him to the girl’s
hiding-place, while Keen set out for Silverside
to kee his e e on Dscy.

Joe ound ick with very little difficulty, and
succeeded after a short time in getting into con-
versation with him.

Nick was very angry over the accusations of
some of the men present, who, in discussing the
tragedy of the day before, openly referred to
him as a coward in not returning with the re-
inforcements he had been Sent after. .

- The reader will doubtless surmise the cause of
Nick’s neglect, but the others, in ignorance of
the true reason, accused him of cowardice. ‘

In a short time, Nick left the party and started

on horseback for Silverside. Joe remained be- ‘

hind long enough to give him the impression
that his absence was not noted, and then mounted
his own horse and set out after him.

Nick traveled stra' htto tEq “ Badgers’ Nest,”
and Joe tollowiad, inou ting when within

 

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«I» was an ..~Lé<.;‘am

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  

 

 

 

 
 

  

Detective German Joe. 7 I 7 I

 

pistol—shot of the building and tying his horse a
little ways from the road in a small group of
trees.

Here a. wonderful transformation took place.
Joe removed his long flaxeu locks, replacing the
wig with one of darker hue, and turning his
clothing inside ' out. Then he took from his
saddle-bags a pair of black side—whiskers. which
were placed in position; on old coat stuffed be-
tween the shouldeis in imitation of a bump. and
a crook—handled cane.

Thus ari‘a ed as a Jew peddler, lie limped to-
ward the " est,” carrying in one hand a small
sachel containing samples of cigars and tobacco
manufactured by an Eastern firm.

In the saloon a dozen men were gathered.
busily discussing , yesterday’s battle, some of
them bearing upon their person proofs of the
good marksmanship ofthePlacer Ranch citizens.

The supposed peddler was given a cordial
greeting by the inmates.

“ Hallo, bumpy,” exclaimed one of them.
“ What ur' yo’ sellin’ to—day l”

“ Matches, cigars and tobacco,” replied Joe in
a wheezing tone. “ Cigars—best domestic and
imported. Pipes an’ smokers’ sundries of all
kinds.”

The crowd gathered about our hero as be ex-
hibited his wares, Dacy and Nick Goodloe
among them. The latter was evidently very
much disturbed about something, for after
glancing disdainfully at Joe’s samples, be
paced nervously up and down the room, keep-
ing an eye on the stairway in the corner.

He was soon joined by Dacy and part of the
conversation that ensued was overheard by the
poddler. ‘

“I tell you that I must see the girl,” said
Nick earnestly. “It’s very important that I
should, for every hour now adds to our danger
of discovery.” -

“ An’ I tel! 570’,” replied Dacy still more earn—
estly, “that yo’ air in danger of your life as
long ez yo’ stay hyer. These men know that yo’
wuz iii ther gang that cum fur us yisterday, and
it’s mor’n likely they’ll pick a muss with yo’
less’n yo’ git out. Cum here in aday or two
when ther storm’s kinder blomad ofer an’ git
ther gurl, but don’t try to go u tairs new.”

Dacy’s soberness impre Nick and he
glanced nervously about him.

“All ri ht." he said at 1911 th. “Mebbe o’r’
right but don‘t mor’n half lieve it. I’ be
here late tomorrow night and yo’ be sure’n hev’
things ready. I’ll hev’ a minister, and consent
or not, that gurl’ll be Mrs. Goodloe before 1
leave that house.”

Daoy nodded approvineg and Nick, remount—
ing his horse, returned to Placer Ranch.

Joe mon'disposod of his stock of tobacco and
was watching for an opportunity of sneaking
up the stairway, when an individual entered
and in an off-hand manner invited the men

present to have a drink at his expense,

Joe glanced up at the new-comer and as he
did so his face poled weibly and his hand sought

the butt of a revolver concealed in thebreast of '

his coat.

German Joe did not etc bathe bar at the
stranger’s’invitation, and y not doing sohe
aroused the ire of theproprietor.

 

“ Whatdo yo’ mean,” roared Dacy, “by in-
sultin’ my guests? D’ye think that such a Little,
sawed-off son-uf—a-gun like yo’ kin lay me fur
a sucker? Yo’ come up here an’ rink, or I’ll
pull ther head off yez.”

This terrible threat brought the trembling
peddler to his feet, and in great trepidation he
asked for-a glass of soda-water.

Dacy, now thoroughly enraged by Joe’s ap'
parently intentional insults, rushed from behind
the counter and seized the peddler by the shoul—
der.

“See hyei', yo7 imp uv Satan,” he cried, “I
don’t stand no nonsense from nobody, an’ uf yo’
want to hev sum fun at my expense it’ll cost yo’
sumtbin’.”

J be assured the angry man that he had meant
no harm. but Dacy, only partly appeased. seized
him by the hair and started for the door. The
black hair and whiskers of the peddler were left
in Dacy‘s hand while their owner sprung back,
drawing a revolver as he did so.

- The cause of all the trouble, after paying for
the drinks, caught sight of J oe’s face, just as his
wig was torn off, and thrust his hand behind

1m.

“ Joe Winthrop," he hissed, bringing out a re-
volver and cooking it in the peddler’s face.
“You’ve tracked me here, but now we’ll part
forever. I’ll put a hole through that great brain
of yours and then maybe you will learn to mind
your own business—in another world.“

Joe had tried twice to shoot, but the hammer
of his revolver only snapped on vacant cartridge—
chiambers and his hand dropped powerless to his
51 e. _

The other took careful aim, seemingly de-
liihted in the torture he was inflicting, and
w an the polished barrel of his weapon was in
line with the peddler's heart, he pulled the trig—
ger.

 

CHAPTER IV.
» A MYSTERIOUS CRIME.

WE must now exercise the rather remarkable
prerogative of a novelist and transfer the reader
from the plains of Colorado to the civilized life ,
and society of New York Ci . A New York r
paper about a month before t 6 events narrated
in the previous chapters, contained the follow— .
ing account of a mysterious murder:

“Joseph Schlerger, was cruelly assassinated yes-
terda morning at his residence on Fifth avenue.
Mrs. chlei'fier was the first to find the dead body at
her husban . but the shock has so unnerved her
that she can give no coherent account 01’, the dis-
covery.

“ Mr. Dunning, amen of about thirty. who acted
as private-secretary and confidential-clerk to Mr.
Schclergtr. was awakened by his Wife about four
o‘clock in the afternoon. She said that somethi
dreadful had happened to Mrs. S. who lay in a degg
faint downstairs. ‘

There is absolutely no clew to the murder—the ur-
pose of which was made clear by the discovery but
nearly $50,000 in cash and bonds had been taken
from the small iron safe, the ke of which Mr. ‘
Sohlerger always carried in his poc e ." ‘

The day following, this notice appeared:

“ The jury reached the usual verdict—death in-
flicted by some person or persons unknowu—und the
case has gone into the hands of Inspector Byrnel.
Mr; Dunning expects to go West in a. few days."

 

 

 

  

 

   
 
    
  
   
 
  

 

8‘7 ' Detective German Joe.

 

These and many other accounts of a similar
nature werepublished in the morning papers
and for nearly a week the public was kept posted
on the latest phases of the great mystery. Then
other sensations followed and it passed into the
background, forgotten by all but those greatly
interested in it, either from curiosity or sym—
pathy for the afflicted family.

When the case was placed in the hands of In-
spector Byrues, he immediately put a dozen of
his best men on it, one to chase to the end each
seeming clew. One of these men was a detective,
$1ite well known to criminal society in New

ork, by the name of Joe Winthrop. He had
been detailed to follow John Dunning and see if
there was anything in the secretary‘s actions to
connect him with the murder.

This Joe had done faithfully and well. He
had clung to Dunning’s heels during the long
journey from New York to Denver, although
an unfortunate incident at Chicago had revealed
his identit to the latter and from there on he
was compo led to travel disguised.

 

It is almost unnecessary now, in returning to
Silverside and the “ Badgers’ Nest ” to introduce
to the reader the hump-backed peddlcr, whom we
left in imminent danger of his life, and the man
who stood over him with a smoking revolver in
his hand was John Dunning.

When Joe had tracked the man to Silverside
he had assumed the role of the “ Fl ing Dutch-
man," and when asked his name in t e " Golden
Garter" had given that of the murdered man—-
the on.l one he could think of at the moment.
He ha gone to the “ Nest ” disguised as a
peddler, hoping thereby to get an opportunity of
rescuing Grace Denmore. His meeting with
Dunning, therefore, was as unexpected as it was
unpleasant.

‘ Curse you,” cried the man. again cocking
his revolver and aiming it this time straight in
Joe’s face. “ I might have known you’d have
armor on.” The first bullet had bounded harm-
lesst from the peddler’s breast. But before Dun-
ning could pull the trigger the second time Joe
threw his useless revolver with all his strength,
straight into the face of the angry man.

It was about his last chance for life and he
took advantage of it.

Partiall stunned, and blinded by the blood
that trick ed into his eyes from a deep cut in his
forehead, Dunning staggered hack a ainst the
bar, and when he recovered sufficient y to look
abet: for the peddler, that individual was not in
u
wWhere’s that man?” he yelled, dashing the
blood from his face and running to the open
gpori' " Why didn’t some of you men stop

in

“ We thought yo’ wuz able to take keer uf
him alone,” said Dacy apologetically. “ Ther
skunk is quicker’n chained lightnin’. Who is
he, an ay ’

“$sz detective," said Dunning, dip ing his
bail erehief into a basin of water and athing
his in'ured head. “ He’s tracked me here from
New ork and M1 give five hundred dollars to
see him out of the wa .”

“ Yo’ would?” aske Dacy.

“ Yes, sir, I would. If 37m want to under-

 

takg the job I’ll give you that amount in cold
cas .

Dacy looked nervously about him, and then
said with a forced laugh:

“ It ain’t in my line, but ef I git a chance I’ll
do anything jest to oblige you.”

“ All right,” said Dunning. “ I wish to thun—
der you would. If I see him again I‘ll bet
he’ll go under or I’ll know the reason why he
don’t.”

“ What’s he follerin’ yo’ fur?” asked Dacy, in-
nocently.

“ He thinks I’m connected with a murder out
East, and is watchin’ me, I suppose, to see if he
can’t find some evidence to criminate me.”

“ I shouldn’t be sur rised of you wuz,” said
the other, referring E)
sentence. “ But anyway, it’s yer own busi—
ness."

Dunning looked sharply at Dacy, and having
bandaged up his head, left the room. In Silver—
side he was stopping at the residence of a man
named Darkin, who kept a place but little better
than the “ Badgers ’Nest,” known to:the residents
as the “ Whitehouse."

He had come West ostensibly to engage in
mining speculation, but why he had chosen
such an out-of~the way village to commence his
operations in, probably he alone could tell.

Dunning he not been in Silverside a week be-
fore he had made friends with nearly all of its
citizens.

The wound in his forehead proved to be a
ver painful one, and added several degrees to
his atred for the detective. After re-arrang-
ing the bandages several times, he returned to
the “ Badgers’ Nest,” and, finding Dacy busin
engaged in presiding over a taro-table, he walk-
ed up—stairs to inspect a room which was being
pre ared for him.

ot knowing which of the many similar
rooms had been set aside for him, he tried his
key in several, and finally opened one at the far
end of the hall.

As he crossed the threshold, he was greeted
with a scream from a person already occupying
the room.

“ I beg your pardon, miss," said Dunning,
hastily retreating. “ I thought this was my
room because my key unlocked the door. I as—
sure you I didn’t intend—”

Grace Denmore, for it was she, interrupted

the speaker with an eagerness that startled -

him.

“ 0h, sir, if you will only let me escape now'
that the door is open. That horrible man has:
been keeping me here for a couple of days. If
am the daughter of Colonel Denmore, of Placer-
Ranch, and was taken from home last Thurs—
day by two men. Won’t you please let me get.
away?”

This agonized eutrenty was poured into Dun-
ning’s ears almost in a breath, but he took in
the situation readily and proffered his assistance,.
which, it is scarcely necessary to inform the
reader was not entirely disinterested. The beau--
tiful girluhad made a decided impression on him...
and be rapidly evolved a plan for transferring:
her from Dacy’s charge to his own.

“ You cannot hope to escape unseen now,” he
said. “ But about two o’clock to-morrow monn»

 

the first part of the-

 

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Detective German Joe. 9

 

ing I will be here to release you. Dacy will
have retired by that time, and your flight will
not be discovered for several hours.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” said the young
irl, fervently. ‘_‘ My father will do anything
or you, if you Will only get me out of this ter-

rible place."

“ I will be pleased to do so,” replied Dunning.
“ But I must go now; keep up your spirits until
I return.”

He bowed and smiled, and then leaving the
room, locked the door on the outside.

“ WellI this is what might be called a soft
sna ,” he mused, walking slowly down-stairs.
“ 1' l rescue the beautiful young girl from the
heavy villain, and then play heavy villain my-
self. I reckon Darkin can accommodate her
over to the ‘ Whitehouse,’ and Dacy’ll never
suspect me of taking her from him. And at the
same time, the Place" Ranch crowd will think
Dacy is the man who’s got the girl.”

Dunning chuckled softly to himself, and
throughout the afternoon and evening was in an
unusually jovial mood. So much so that Dar-
kin asking the cause ,of his good humor, was
told to prepare a. room for the reception of a
young lady soon to become Mrs. Dunning.

“‘ And,” said the former, " it’s more than like—
ly that she will be here some time to-ni ht.”

“ Very well,” responded Darkin. “ her best
in ther house is ready fur her—£2 long ez yo’
foot der hills. Which yo’ always do,” he added
hastily, for fear that his guest would take offense
at his reference to such a trivial matter.

When Dunnin had left, Grace threw herself
upon the bed an fairly cried for joy. Without
knowing who her captors were or why she had
been held a risoner, the poor girl had been sur-
rounded wit a thousand unknown fears.

“ Oh, if he should faill” she thought again
and again. “ What on earth would I do? But
he won’t—he can’t! I do so wish it was time
for him to come.”

And thus, trembling between hope and fear,
Grace spent the long afternoon and evening.

Her supper was brought to her at midnight,
but she could scarcely force herself to eat a
mouthful, so great was her anxiety. The little
nickel—plated clock on the mantel struck two at
len th, however, and almost before its echo had
di away, a stealthy footstep in the hallway
announced Dunning’s arrival.

She flung a shawl over her head and shoul-
ders, and almost rushed into his arms as her
rescuer unlocked the door.

“ Oh, I’m so glad you‘ve come,” she panted.
“ Ifeared something would keep you. Let us
go at once, some one may come.

The excited girl did not know that her com—
panion’s arm was restin across her shoulders
as he locked the door an placed the key in his

ket.

“My dear," he said, calmly, -“ keep very still
until we get outside. The slightest sound may
awake Dacy or one of his men.”

The two had scarcely reached the outside of
the building before another key turned in the
door of the room in which Grace had been con-
fined. and three persons cautiously entered.

They were Phil Dacy, Nick Goodloe and a
man called Parson Pete, a pretty tough~lookiug

 

fellow who passed in the village as a. regularly
ordained Protestant minister.

The two former paused on the threshold and
uttered a cry of dismay.

“ She ain’t hyer,” cried Dacy, and the words
were echoed by Nick Goodloe, who accompanied
them by a suggestive movement toward his hip-
pocket.

” Dacy,” he said, and an angry light gleamed
in his e_ es; “ I told you to keep watch or thet
gurlan yo’ promised faithful that yo’ would.
She’s gone now, and I’m goin’ to hold yo’ to ac-
count fur it."

The proprietor of the “Badgers’ Nest” was
too completely paralyzed by the girl’s disap-

earance to gay attention to Nick’s threat.
‘eteral times e tried to speak, but not a Word
came from between his clinched teeth.
t. Suddenly he turned toward Goodloe like a
gen

“ Did yo’ take thet gurl?” he hissed. “Yo’
an’ me were the only ones who knew she wuz
h er. She’s gone now, an’ by ther Eternal,

ick, I’ll make yo’ suffer fur it.”

l
The two thoroughly maddened men stood

looking into each other’s eyes.

” Nick, whar’s thet gurl?”

“Yo’d better ask, yo’ sneakin’ scoundrell
Didn’t I trust her with yo’an’ain’t yo’ gone
back on 071' word? Didn’t yo’ hev charge uv
her, an’ idn’t—”

M'hatever further questions Nick might have
asked were interrugted by the tramp of feet
down-stairs, and be ore the disappointed trio
could conceal themselves, a score of Placer
Ranch men with Kid Keen at their head, came
rushing down the narrow hall.

CHAPTER v.
NICK GOODLOE’S rsan. ‘

 

AMAN well known in both Silverside and ,

Placer Ranch as “Limpy Dick ” must now be
introduced to the reader.
town with its first settlers and had drifted back
and forth between the rival villages eVer since.
He was one of a cla of men which more than
anything else, is like] to discourage future
emigration to the far est.

A murderer and a thief, brought u in the
very midst of the worst kind of crimes and
criminals, his natural appetite for devilishness
of any sort had been stren hened but not satis-
fied by past indulgences. n appearance he was
singularly repulsrve, one ear being entirely
gone and the other showing signs of attempted
amputation.

Abullet had plowed through the calf of his

leg when a boy, and this disablement had won

for him the sobriquet of “Limpy Dick.” His.

friends in Placer Ranch were very few, in fact
the only man who would acknowledge any deep
regard for him was Nick Goodloe. Astrange
but lasting friendship had sprung up between
these two, and there was no scheme too danger-
ous or plot too intricate which, if proposad by
one, would not be fully carried out by the
other.

Nick’s infatuation for Colonel Denmore’s
dau liter was the only point on which the two
par 3 differed. Limpy Dick did not like no
men of any kind or caliber and when Gwdloe

He came to the latter I

 

 

 

 

  
   
 

 

 

 

 

“xterm ~ -v >,- .»»_r

 

 

10 Detective German Joe.

 

asked for his assistance in kidnapping Grace, he
at once attempted to dissuade his partner from
the crime. But Nick was not to be thwarted
and after much argument be induced Limpy
Dick to lend his assistance to the scheme.

Since the kidnapping the cripple had kept
silent for fear of suspicion, most of the time re
maining in the little log cabin near Placer
Ranch. But when two days had passed he
ventured out of his hole and almost the first
man he met was German Joe.

“Hello, Limpy," was the latter’s salutution.
“ Whar’ve yo’ peen so long?”

“ Laid up with ther r’umntiz fur a week,” re-
gleided’ Dick, gruffly. “Couldn’t git out’n my

“ Too bad,” said the Dutchman. “ Does dodt
Nick Goodloe lif midt yo'?”
it Yes."
“Vell, I come aroundt to see him. Is he in?”
“No, not now; but of yer play keerds, yo’ kin
cum in an’ wait fer him. We mought hev a
cordi’l game uv poker, eh?”
Joe acquiesced and the two entered the cabin.
\ Dick produced a pack of cards, which Joe
readily saw were marked; but he made no oh—
jection, and the game began. Each one took in
it: pot, and than the door opened, admitting Kid
n

so .

“Say, Limpy,” he cried excitedly. “Nick
Goodloe’s got in a muss with Phil Dacy, an’
you’d better—”

The cripple threw down his hand and seizing
his rifle and cartridge-belt, rushed behind the
cabin where his horse was tied. In another in-
stant he was galloping madly toward Silver-

side.

“ Waal, Dutchy,” said Keen. “Thet wuz a
pooty cute ame. Now We’ve got rid of ther
chum . yo search thcr cabin an’ I’ll watch
outsi e.”

Keen had proposed that they search Limpy
Joe’s cabin, to see it they could find anything
there to connect Goodloe with the kidnapping.

Joe searched the single room very thoroughly,
but nothing could he find that would tend to
criminate Nick. But what he did discover,
with a shock of surprise and delight, was a
legal looking paper bearing a seal, and under it
the words:

“The Last Will and Testament of Joseph Schler-

er ' '

He quickl slipped the paper into his pocket,
and rejoin Keen outside.

“I vhas nod flnt anyt’lngs,” he said in a dis-
appointed tone. ..

“All ri ht,” replied Keen. “We’ll hev to
look elsew ere.”

"I tell yo’,” said Joe, earnest] ,as the two
walked up the street, “the best hing ve can
to vould pe to raitd dodt ‘Padgers’ Nest’ to-
night. Ter gurl ish deer now, hudt Tacy may
to 6 her avay ad any time. Vy nodt ged de
boys togodder, and go for tom tonight?”

‘I guess we'll hev to,” said Keen, slowly.
“It’s askin’ a good deal uv the boys to go there
again, but mebbe it would be best. We’ll see.”

The two spoke to a score or more of men
whom they met, and all of them volunteered
their services in the good cause, although not a
tow regarded German J08 with looks of sue

 

picion. He had not yet explained why the
knife bearing his name had been found on the
spot upon which the girl had been kidnapped,

and his failure to do so was not regarded in the :
right light by some of the men who had been

at the first raid on the “ Badgers‘ Nest.”

But late that night, however, a party of horse—
men led by Kid Keen and German Joe—for
Little Pete had not yet recovered from the gun-
shot wound in his right shoulder—trotted out
from Placer Ranch to‘ Silverside. The journey
was taken leisurely, and it was morning by the
time they reached the “ Nest.” The door down-
stairs was unlocked, and the party trooped
across the floor of the saloon and up-stairs. At
the lower end of the hall they caught sight of
the trio of rascals whom we left so much dis-
comflted at the close of the last chapter.

“ There they air," yelled Keen, cocking his
revolver. “ Don’t let ’em gi t ther drop on yeesi"

Dacy and Nick Goodloe looked sullenly at the
advancing men, while Parson Pete cringcd
against the doorway. '

“ Well, what’n blazes do yo’ tellers want hyer
ag’in?” asked Dacy, in a tone of suppressed but
fiery anger. “ D‘ye want more people killed by
yo’r blanked foolishness?"

“ New—we don‘t,” replied Keen. “ We jist
come ter make a friendly call, an’ incidentally
to take home with us ther kur’nel‘s daughter.
We know she’s here.”

“Then 0’ know a devil of a sight mor’n I
do ” cried acy. “ Ef yo’ find her in this house
I’ll give yez one hundred dollars apiece~every
one on yees.”

This munificent offer did not abash Keen, who
ordered his men to search the house forthwith.

“ All right, of yo’r’ bound to do an,” said Dacy,
with forced calmness. “ I’ll go with yo’ so’s the
boys will know what’s up. Jest like’s not they’ll
shoot a half a dozen of yez before yo’ git
through."

But they didn’t!

The “ boys,” who were awakened, opened their
eyes to stare a revolver in the face, and what-
ever protestations they might have offered were
kept to themselves.

‘ Veil. ter gurl don’dt seem tcr pe heer,” said
German Joe, when the last room had been
searched. “ She certainly don’t vhus on t’is
floor, onyvay.” I

“I guess yo’r’ right,” said Keen. with a sigh,
while a grin of malignant satisfaction lighted up
the homely visage of Dacy. “ Ther gurl sar-
t’nly ain’t here, an’ we owe Phil an apology fur
disturbin’ him.”

But the apology was not made, and the disap-

inted men walked down-stairs, and, mount-
ing, hastened back to Placer Ranch.

All but German J no.

The “ hayseed sport,” as Little Pete had term-
ed him. remained in the building long after the
others had left it. He had concealed himself in
a closet in the last room that had been reach-
ed, and when the others left. he kept perfectly
still and was not discovered by Nick and Dacy
who waited until the sound of hoof-beats had
died away. and then resumed their gnarrel.

“ Nick Goodloe,” began Dac , ‘ yo‘ve took
that gurl from hyer because yo thought mebbe
I wouldn’t treat her or. ’I’d oughter,”

 

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Detective German Joe. ' 11

 

“ I didn’t," replied Goodloe hot] . “ But it I
did, is it any of yo’r business! Yo ain’t got no
right to ther gurl. I’m payin’ yo’ to keep her,
ain’t IT"

Dacy nodded.

“ Then why ’n thunder hev’ yo’ let her git
away?” continued Nick, walking u and down
the room. “ Why didn’t yo’ keep her ez I paid
yo’ to do? If she ain’t escaped by herself—J

“ She couldn’t,” broke in Dacy.

“ Well, at she couldn’t do that why then,
some one hez taken her away. Did any one
know” besides me an’ yo’ thet she wuz kept
h or!

y“ Only  Dick an’ he wouldn‘t take her,”
said Dacy. ‘ her cripple wuz hyer this after-
noon inquirin’ about yo' an‘ ther gnrl.”

“ I know,” replied Dick. “ He helped me git
her frum ther kurnel’s."

There was silence for a few moments and then
Goodloe said moodily:

“ Well, ther ame is up, but at I see ther ga-
loot w’ot took t at gurl, there’ll be trouble. I
hain't a man that kin be raised out’n his hand
by any son-uf—avgun in this county and if yo’
took her, Phil, I’ll—"

“ I didn’t,” said Dacy simply.

Nick glared at him a moment and then strode
angrily out of the room, while the proprietor of
the “ Badgers’ Nest" sunk into a chair and laid
his head upon his arm on a table near him. He
remained thus, deep in thought, for nearly ten
minutes and then walked softly out of the room
and down the hall.

Joe now opened the closet door and stepped
out. He had overheard the conversation be-
tween Dacy and Goodloe and intended to profit
by his knowledg . _But before he could et to
the door open into the stairway that ed to
the saloon below, a saw in the semidarkness
the fol-not a man coming toward him. Joe

' shrunk back against the side of the wall and as

the man drew nearer, he recognized John
Dunning. His experience of the day before had
taught him what to expect from that gentle-
man, and he hastily retreated to the closet, ole.-
ing the door just as Dunnin entered. '

‘ I wonder if Dacy’s in ed," muttered that
gentleman half aloud, as he sets. small black
sachel down on the floor beside him and glanced
about the room. “ I guess not. for this is where
he sleeps. I suppose— Why here on are now.”

Dacy started back as he caug t sight of his
visitor, but recovered himself at once and said a
little impatiently: \

“What d’ye want here now? I hevn’t bed a
wink of sleep now fur two days an’ at this rate
I won’t hev’ any fur two days more."

He sat down and looked sharply at Dunning,
who handed him the black sachel, saying:

“There's $45,000 worth of Government bonds
in that, worth at present about 860,000.”

Dacy stared at the speaker in utter bewilder-
ment.

“ They are mine and I Want them deposited
in a bank to my credit. If you will take these
over to J unita to-morrow and have me credited
with the face value of them, 1 will give you the
interest.”

“ Fifteen thousand dollars?”

“ Exactly.” ~

 

“ But I—I never—” -

“ I know you never did,” said Dunning, calm-
ly. “ Just have $45,000 entered in a bank book
to the name of Samuel T. Warren, bring the
book and a pad of blank checks to me and keep
the rest for yourself. "

Dacy set the sachel back on the floor and
walked several times around it before saying
slowly:

“ That’s a good deal of money.”

“ I know it, but it’s all mine.” .

“ And how do yo’ know but thet I wouldn’t
run away with ther hull boodle?”

“ You can’t very well,” said Dunham, stretch-
ing tho truth somewhat to suit his own con-
venignce. “ I would have their payment stop-

“An’ o’llgiv’me out’n out in cash fifteen
thgusané dollars?" 1

“ Then I’ll risk it.”

Ducy picked up the sachel and carrying it to
the closet in which Joe was concealed, opened
the door and set it inside. The detective
thought he had been discovered but the dark-
ness had concealed him and the door was shut
again.

“ Be very careful of them,” said Durham, as
he rose to go. “ Don’t let any one know you’v’
got so much money in the house and just'as
soon as'you get back from J unita bring the book
to me.

Dacy promised to do so and after carefully
locking the door Walked with Dunning down-
stairs and stood talking with him for some min-
utes at the front entrance. When he returned,
be locked himself in his room and walked ner-
vously to the closet.

“I wonder what them things are like ” he
unfititiireg to himself, as he opened the our.
The proprietor of the “ Badgers' Nest” sta -
gored ack as if he had received ablow. life
tried to utter a cry but his lips refused to move
and he could only stare into the closet with
wild, distended eyes. It was empty—the sacbel
had been taken away.

CHAPTER VI.
TEE mssmo FORTUNE.

FOR some time after making the discovery
that the sachel and its contents ad been stolen
Dacy stood glaringr into the closet in stupefled
silence. He had locked the door of the room.
when he left it to accompany Dunning down~
stairs, and had found it. locked when he re-
turned.

HOW had the thief entered!

Dacy was nota man capable of asplnga
perplexing situation very_readily, an after one
or two attempts at reaching a conclusion in the
matter, he arose, and putting on his hat, hasten-
ed down-stairs. .

“I’ll hevto see the man that give me ther
money,” he thought, as he walked rapidly in
the direction of the “Whitehouse.” ‘Mebbe ‘
he‘ll think Itook the money—but anyway he
kin hev the bonds. duplicated and the payment ,
stooped.” '

With this comforting thought Dacy walked
into his rival’s saloon and having called on Duo- ,

 

 

 

   
 
 
   

 

 

12 Detective German Joe.

 

hing before, went directly to his room. He was
just about to grasp the knob of the door when
the sound of a. woman’s voice within arrested
him.

“ Oh. sir, you said you would take me to my
father, and here you are keeping me in as terri-
3ble a place as the other. I’Vhy will you not re-
lease me and let me go home?"

“ Because, my pretty dear,” responded an-
other mice, which Dacy reco sized as Dun-
ning’s, “ you’re much too him some to waste
yourself on the people out here in the woods. I
mean to take you with me to—morrow to a home
in the East. ”

“And you won’t let me see my father? Oh,
if you only knew—5’

“I know everything, my dear. If you will
promise to accompany me on a. wedding tour
afterward, I shall have no objection to your
seeing the old gentleman first. But otherwise
you must stay with me. The landlord has fixed
up a room for you on the next flow, and you
will be left entirely to yourself.”

U But‘_"

" No buts about it,” he interrupted. “I mean
to marry you whether you will or no. And I
don't see why you should object. I am good-
looking, rich and well behaved. I’m sure we’d
make a good match.”

Daoy heard a long~drawn sigh, and then the
man added more earnestly:

“ See here, now, you and I ought to get along
together better than this. I mean to treat you
like a gentleman should—”

“ Then take me home ” cried Grace. “ Why
torture me lon er, for I shall never willingly
become your wi e.”

“ Unwillingly, then,” returned Dunning.
“But I will have to leave you now. I am go-
:ing to Placer Ranch, but; Derkin will come here
wefinfily and take you to your room. Good-
n g .

There was no response as the man opened the
door, and coming into the hall, locked it on the
outside. No one was in sight, for Dacy had re-
treated to his own stronghold when he heard
Dunning coming, and was now wrestling with
his own unpleasant thoughts.

The many incidents and accidents of the day
had so upset him that the discovery of the girl
in Dunning’s room had added but little to the
perplexities with which he was surrounded.

“ Ef this thing keeps u ,” he mused as he pro.
ared for bed, ‘ I’m a-go n’ ter leave ther place.
her ‘ Nest’ is raided twice, two men killed,

$60,000 stolen, a detective from New York State
gun ,in ther very house, ther ker’nal’s daugh-

I‘—

But sleep, the balm to all wounds, and rest
and comfort to troubles of all sorts, came to him
in the midst of his woes, and the worst man in
Junita county lay snoring on his bed as peace-
fully as a schoolboy.

But not so Dunning. That restless individual
after leaving Grace, mounted one of Darkin’s
horses and started for Placer Ranch. He was
in. an unusually happy and contented frame of
mind and sung snatches of operatic song as his
horse ambled peacefully along the quiet road.

“ I‘ll leave my money in the J unite Bank un-
til I go East,” he muttered. “ It's giving Dacy

 

 

a good deal for his trouble, but I reckon I’ll be
able to get it back again. Anyway it is safer in
the ban than at the ‘ Whitehouse.’ I was be-
ginning to suspect Darkin—these men out here
are not all models of honesty. Dacy won’t try
to kee the bonds however, for his ignorance of
such t ings will give me the advantage of him.”

Thus musing on every thing that came into
his mind and occasional y expelling unpleasant
thoughts with a snatch of song, he journeyed on
to Placer Ranch, reaching that enterprising town
about an hour after do. break. He rode up to
the door of Limpy Dick s cottage and tying his
horse on the OutSldE‘. entered without knocking.

Both Dick and Goodloe were on the inside of
the cabin, the latter stretched out on a bed fast
asleep and the former trying to cook a piece of
ham over a wood-fire in the stone chimney.

“ Hello, Limpy,” said Dunning speakingsoftly
for fear of waking Goodloe. “ Why haven’t you
been to see me for the last few days?”

“ I couldn't come,” replied Dick, etting on
his knees and trying to fan the smo e up the
chimney with his broad sombrero. “ I wuz
mighty skeert over thet url bizuess.”

‘ Then you helped Nic kidnap her, ehi”

“ Yes, but I didn’t want’er, ’yo’ can bet yer
life. It wuz resky business an I tried to keep
’im frum doin’ it. But he wuz all possessed fer
ther gurl. an’ in co’rse he bed ter hev her. An’
arfter all, we hed all ther trouble fur nothin’.”

“ Why?” asked Dunning.

“ He took ther gurl down ter Dacy’s an’ he
promised to keep her tight till Nick wanted her.
He went over last night and she wuz gone. Nick
raised the devil with Dacy but didn’t do no good
I reckon.” ’

' “ And don’t they know haw the girl esoapedi”

“ Nick says he don’t, an’ Phil ’10ws he hasn’t
any idea who could ’a’ helped her. I kinder be-
lieve ther gurl got out herself.”

Dunning looked at Dick curiously.

“ Then it was you who dropped the knife with
the Dutchman’s name on it?"

“ Yes, you giVe me the knife, an’ I didn’t
know but it wuz all right. HOW’n thunder did
it happen to hev his name on it?”

“ It isn’t his name,” replied Dunning. “ It’s
the name of a man out East and why he’s
travelin’ under it I don’t know.”

“ Why’d you want me to shoot him fur?”
asked Dick} hobbling out of the cabin for a fresh
supply of kindling wood. “Is be anything to

on?

“ Well, yes, slightly. And that’s what I came
to See you about now." _

“ You want me ’t plug ’im!”

“ Exactly.”

“ When?"

“ At once.”

“"All right. I reckon I can accommodate

“ He give me this cutin the head yesterday over
to Dacy’s. And I had the drop on him at the
time,,too. He wears chain-armor under his

5

“I’ll try his head,” said Dick, grimly. “I
reckon he don’t wear chain-armor around his
brain.”

Dunning talked with Limpy Dick for sometime
afterward, promising him a large reward for

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Detective Germa- Joe. 18

getting rid of German Joe, and when he left at
nine o’clock he had received the assurance that
the detective would be a corpse within twenty-
four hours.

He rode slowly back toward Silverside, hoping
that by the time he reached there, Dacy would
have returned from Junita with his bank-book.
But when he arrived at the “Badgers’ Nest,”
the man who presided over the bar in the pro—

,prietor’s absence told him that Dacy had left

the place before daybreak Without letting any—
one know where he was going.

Dunning spent the da in flitting back
and forth between the “ Vhitehouse” and the
“ Bad ers’ Nest,” impatiently awaiting the
arriva of Dacy. As night drew near and that
gentleman did not put in an appearance Dun-
ning’s impatience turned to annety and he was
about to go in search of the man whom he had
trusted with his money, when Limpy Dick came
dashing up to the “ Whitehouse ” and called to
him:

“ Git a horse, quick,” he yelled, “ an’ cum
with me. Dncy got in a row with Nick 3. little
while ago over to Little Pete’s an’ Nick put a
bullet in him. The boys say it’s all up with
Phil and he sent me for you.”

In a few minutes the two were galloping back
toward Placer Ranch, Dick tryin to give a co-
herent account of the tragedy on t 9 way.

“It seems that Dacy cum inter Little Pete’s
this afternoon nn’ got ’er talkin’ with Nick.
They were at it for nearly an hour, an’ then. all
of a suddint, Dacy got out his shooter. Nick
saw him jest in time, and in all my bo’n days I
hain’t never seen sech shootin’ ez them two had.
Both stood straight up an’ let each other hev it.
Phil went down on ther second shot, but he wuz
a-goin’ to die ame, an’ he riz up on his elbow
and planted a ullet right what -Nick’s heart
oughter be. But it didn’t do no harm and he
got one back that settled him. Nick hain’t
scratched.”

Dunning listened to this narrative with a feel-
ing of dismay. If Dacy should die before he
could reach him, how would he be able to obtain
the money he had intrusted to the murdered
man? He frequentl urged Dick into a faster
pace as they dash onward in the growing
darkness, and by the time they reached the
“ Golden Garter ’ he was in a state of mind
bordering on frenzy.

But his first question elicited the fact that
Dacfiwas not yet dead. nor very likely to die.

“ is jaw-bone’s broke in two places,” said the
man who had volunteered to nurse the wounded
man. “ An’ he’s got a putty bad hole in his
arm, but it ain’t quarter enough to kill sech a
man 82 Phil Dacy.” .

Dunning was immediately cenducted to the
improvised couch, but its occu ant was unable
to give him any information. . he entire lower

art of his face was swathed in bandages and
his eyes were closed. .

“It won’t im rove his looks,” said the nurse.
“ But then Phi never wuz a beauty. Jest ez
soon ez. he is able to be moved we’ll cart him to
his own ranch. He’s the first man shot in this
place now fur over two weeks. Ole Bill Coon
said yesterday that we’d orter break that record

 

by spillin’ SOme had blood, an’ I reckon we’ve

done it.”

Dunning turned away sick at heart and dis-
appointed. It would scarcely do to search the
body of the wounded man, and yet he felt sure
that the receipt for his money was concealed
somewhere about Dacy. He rode back to the
“ Whitehouse ” in anything but an amiable
frame of mind, cursing himself for ever trusting
his money out of his si ht.

Limpy Dick, after eavin Dunning at the
bedside of his injured frien , hastened to his
cabin where Nick Goodloe had gone after the
shooting. He looked a trifle excited when his
partner entered, but otherwise showed no signs
of the encounter.

“Yo’ did well,” said Dick, laying his hand on
Goodloe’s shoulder. “ Ther’ ain’t many men in
this country kin say they've downed Phil

acy.

The simple compliment pleased Nick more
than anything else would have done, and he put
his arm around his crippled partner and said,
with something of affection in his tone:

“I didn’t want to down him, Limpy, but he
kept at me until I got desperate. He went for
his shooter first, an of he got ther worst uv it,
he’s to blame.”

“ What did yo' quarrel about?" asked Dick.

“Ther gurl. He ied to lie to me, sunthin’
about a man named arreu, who giv’ him sixty
thousand dollars which was stolen. Then he see
this Warren hev the gurl. He thought I’d be-
lieve all ther stufl, an’ when I called him a liar,
he got on his ear.”

Limpy Dick began to clear the table for their
evening meal. his confidence in Goodloe’s prow—
ess increased a hundred-fold by the events of
the afternoon.

 

CHAPTER VII.

GERMAN JOE IN TROUBLE.

WHEN Joe was left alone in the closet with
the sachel containing $60,000 at his feet, you
may be sure that he did not waste unn
time in marveling over his lucky escape. The
key had scarce] turned in the lock as D
went out with unning, before Joe had left h
hiding-place. Two windows opened from one
side of the room, and throwing open one of
these, the detective crawled out on the ledge
with the sachel in his hand.

“It can’t be more than fifteen feet to the
ground,” he thought, peering out in the dark-
ness. “This house is built on a side-hill, and I

uses the upper windows can’t be very far from
be ground. I’ll risk it, anyway."

Carefully lowering the window and gr ing
the sachel in one hand, he swung himself min
the ledge with the other and dropped to the
ground. He had fallen in some deep black mud,
evidently, for he sunk to his knees, and in at-
tempting to extricate himself, floundered about
in the darkness and buried himself still dee
in its clingin embrace.

And then or the first time he thought of a.

creek that had been turned from its course, as
Kid Keen had told him some time before, for
the purpose of washing sluice-boxes. This creek
had been turned into an excavation running be

 

 

 

 

 

14 ' Detective German Joe.

 

hind Dacy’s house and out through a tunnel‘in
the hill to a mining-camp in Horseshoe Vall ‘3'.

But why the creek had dried up, leaving be—
hind it this sticky black mud, Joe could not con—
jecture. _

But he realized very clearly that his life was
in danger, for ever time he struggled to escape
he sunk deeper in the quicksand.

Finally he decided that even if he could keep
his arms above water—or rather above mud—it
would be impossible for him to retain possession
of the sachel.

So. carefully estimating the distance it would
go, Joe threw the sachel with all his strength.
To his surprise and. dismay, it fell in a body of
water, as the splash accompanying its full

plainly denoted.

“ Well, of all scrapes that any one was ever
in, this seems to be the worst. I might rather
have stayed in the room, and had it out with
Dacy, than slowly suffocate here. I’ve heard of
such things before, but this is my first, and
probably will be my last, experience.”

Joe reached about him with his hands, and
struck the building from which he had just es-
caped. This might at least furnish temporary
support, and graspin his knife with his right
hand, he drove it wit all his strength between
the chinks of the logs, with which the rear side
of the “ Badgers’ Nest ” was constructed. This
kept him from sinking any deeper in the mire,
but his utmost strength was not sufficient to re-
lease the lower part of his body from the soft
but firm grip of the quicksand.

And we must leave him for a short time, and
return to Kid Keen. who after leading the res-
cuing party to and from Silvereide, returned to
his cabin, and spent the remainder of the night
in sleep. Late the next morning he arose, won-
dering where his partner had spent the ni ht,
and went over to Little Pete's for his break ast.
He remained in the “ Golden Garter ” until the
shooting afi'ray between Nick Goodloe and
Dacy. and then becoming alarmed over the con-

, tinned absence of German Joe, set out in search

, a’ mighty quick shot, howsumever.

of him. '

The men who had accompanied him to Silver-
side had not seen Joe return after the raid, and
Keen concluded that the detective must either
be confined in the “ Badgers’ Nest,” or was fol—
lowin some claw affecting Grace Deni-hora.

“ e‘s a mighty plucky little feller,” said
Keen as he prepared to go in search of his
friend; “Bu hes more’n likely to get hurt at
he fools around Dacy’s. The men out there are
kinder dangerous when they git excited, and
ESE like’s not Phil has told them to down ther

_utchman. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dacy
himself wuz all broke up on ther gurl. She’s a
mightiy pooty piece, but I don’t see why she
shoul cause us all this trouble. Ef ther boys
find that Nick’s got his hand in ther steal. I’m
air-lard it will go kinder hard with him. Nick’s
Ther’ ain’t
many men who’ve ever got away from Phil

. Dacy's pistol alive.”

And thus ruminating on the events of the past
few days Keen rode on toward Silverside. In
front of Colonel Denmore’s residence he met that
gentleman on horseback.

, I; “ Hello, kur’nel," said Keen, raining up along-

1

 

 

side of him. “ I s'pose you've heard uv our raid
last night!”

“Yes,” said the colonel, sadly. “ You were
so positive that Grace was confined at Dacy’s
that your failure was a. great disappointment.
have you thought of anything else nowthat
will help us?”

“ Nothin’ at all."

“ And I have found no trace of a clew.
knife—J

“Don’t amount to anything," interrupted
Keen. “ Ther Dutchman wouldn’t hurt a fly
unless it hurt him. He’s been tryin' hard to
find yo’r daughter.” _

“ Where are you going now?” asked Colonel
Denmore, turning his horse around and riding
by Keen’s side.

“ I’ve lost track of J 09, 2111' am goin’ over tor
Dacy’s ter see. whar he is. He wuz with us on
the raid last night, but I hain’t seen him since,
an’ I reckoned mebbe he’d got inter trouble of
sum kind.”

The two rode together for some time in silence,
and then Keen said:

“ Ker’nal, who’s ther nice-lookin’ chap over
ter Darkin’s lace? Hev you seen him?"

“ Not that know of.”

“Well, I don’t like his looks very well. I’ve
seen him around here several times, an' it may
be that he knows sunthin’ about Grace. He’s a
dandified kind of a teller, but I reckon he ain’t

That

too good fur this climate, an‘ I think it would

he a good plan to foller him for a spell.”

“ It might,” assented Colonel Denmore.
“ When Grace returns. if she ever does, 1 shall
leave Placer Ranch at once. My wife has so
much improved in health that I think a. journey
South would do her good.”

“ But this other chap I wuz speakin’uv,” con-
tinued Keen, not liking to drop a clew which to
his mind presented wonderful possibilities.
“ Can’t we do sunthin’ in his direction?”

“I think so."

“ »We might search his room l"

“ But we couldn't!” ‘

“ Wh not?”

“ Dar in wouldn’t let us. if the man himself
wasn’t there, and if he was it isn’t likely he
would submit Without a fight.”

“ Well. I reckon we kin fight too.”

The colonel/slim god his shoulders.

“ We might me e a friendly call on the man,’

tell him we want some tips on mining matters
or something of that kind,” he suggested.

“Just the ides.” replied Keen. “You dro
in on him now while I go to the Nest to see of
kin find Joe.”

Colonel Denmore promised to do so, and on
reaching Silverside the two separated. Keen
did not go direct to the “Badgers’ Nest,” for
the had
got him into trouble. He tied his horse where
there was little probability of its discovery, and
fell in with some of his acquaintances, who
presently started for Dacy’s. talking over the
sudden downfall of their leader.

In the saloon Keen got into an argument with _

some Silverside men, and not being able to keep
quiet when he heard the followers of Little Pete
maligned, he was speedin the center of an angry
crow

 

 

Iood between the two villages might ~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Detective German Joe.

 

is

 

“ I didn’t cum hyer to fight,” he finally yelled
desperately. “ But by ther great eternal, of yo’
fellers air dyin’ for a motion jist smell uv
these!”

He thrust a couple of revolvers in the faces of

‘ his persecntors, but they took advantage of
their numbers and spread out so that he could
not keep the drop on more than two men at
once.

It was very evident that the scout had got
himself into hot water, for the men who sur-
rounded him u ere angry and desperate. One
of them had already covered Keen with a rifle,
resting the barrel of it over the bar.

“ Put up yer hands,” he yelled as Kid seemed
disposed to make a rush on the crowd. “ Put
’em up or down «5’ go i” "

The scout su denly, switched his left hand
around and lanted a. bullet between the eyes of
the man with, the rifle. He sunk to the floor
without a groan and the weapon that had killed
him stood staring another man in the face.

“ Keep yer distance,” he cried. “I told ye I
didn’t want'r fight, but when I’m forced to, I
reckop I kin hold my own. Ef any one of

o —

The crowd made a sudden rush for him and
in spite of the deadly fire from his two revolvers
were soon in a position to effectually check his
further resistance. But just as Keen had given
up all hope of life, aid came from an unexpected
quarter, and the crowd again retreated. From
between the cracks of the logs in the rear of the
room, a dozen whizzing bullets had scattered
the crowd, leaving Keen an opportunity of
escape, which he quickly took advantage of.

Once on the outside, he. did not stop until he
had got out of pistol ran e of the “ Nest.”

“ Well, that was a 'vely little fight,” he
anted. “ I thought at one time I was a goner,
at I reckon the kernel must’r been out there

Evith” his shooters. 0r mebbe it wuz German

03!

This thought sent him back to the “Nest,”
quickly but cautiously. He made a detour so
as to come up in the rear of the building, and
peering over the top of a hill at the place where
the shotshad come from, saw something that
made him reach for his revolver again.

At the foot of the hill and near the building,
separated from Keen by a narrow stream of
water, German Joe stood buried up to his
thighs in thick black mud. In each hand he
held a revolver, the barrels of which were on a
line with a half-dozen angry men who had just
appeared around a corner of the building.

Keen could not imagine how his partner had
got into such a predicament, but he quickly
realized that he was in a position to return Joe's
services of a few minutes ago.

He lay flat on his Stomach and thrust his
revolvers out toward Joc’s enemies, callingto

, them as he did so. .

German Joe did not take his eyes from his re-
volvers, although he recognized with a pang of
delight that his partner was at hand,

Just how this strange situation might have end.
ed had the men tried to reach Joe, will never be
knewn. for a sudden commotion in front of the
“ Nest” attracted their attention and the dis-
appeared as quickly as they had come. een

,.

 

hastened to his partner’s assistance, wadin into
the creek, near the inner shore of whic Joe
was confined. He threw himself upon his
stomach and grasping the detective around the
waist with both arms, loosened him b several
violent alternating wrenches and fina y landed
him on dr ground, although it required all of
their unite strength to accomplish it.

“ How in tarnation—" began Keen, but Joe
interrupted him. 7

“I threw a sachel in” t’er creek here last
night,” he said. “ Do you suppose it vhas floated

_ 2‘, I shouldn’t wonder if it bad. What wuz in
it?“ Pa 1..”

“ Then it must hev’. Ther creek runs over
ter Lode Camp, 311’ we mought foller it of yo’
want’r. Wuz it valu’ble?" '

“ I shouldt t’ink id vhas. Ofer sixty thou-
sant dollars in it,” replied Joe. “ Vait until I
can git some 111' t’is mud oflf me an’ I vill help yo’
look for id.”

The two walked to the place where Keen had
tied his horse and there attempted to cleanse
their muddy clothing. They succeeded in par—
tially doing so after a time and then cautiously; ,
returned to the creek. The followed itthroug
the tunnel and down into orseshoe Valley but
without finding the sachel.

Keen meanwhile had asked the detective so
many questions that Joe finally divulged his
identity and told his friend of his mission in
that part of the country. The scout was sur—
prised and delighted with the information and
readily promised to lend his services in running
Dunning to ground.

“ I hain’t seen much nv ther man,” he said.
“ But what I hev seen hasn’t impressed me with
enny luv’ fur ’im. I’ve kinder got the notion
that he’s had a hand in this Grace Denm e
business.”

“ It may be,” said Joe, dropfiing his Gemini:
accent in Keen’s hearing. ‘ e’s capable of
doing almost anything. I! we could only find
the sachel now we’d have almost conclusive
proof that he was a thief if not a murderer.

But thorough search through the valley failed
to discover the sachel and by dark the partners
returned to Placer Ranch,
famished after his long fast.

CHAPTER VIII.
, DUNNING HOSES HIS GRIP. .
DUNNING had paid Darkin well to keep secret '
the fact that he was keeping at the “White:
house ” against her wishes young and beauti« ‘
ful girl. If his host knew that she was Grace V
Denmore, he also knew enough to keep it? to' ‘
himself, and Dunnin thought that his charge
would be safe in Dar in’s kee 'ng. r r
And for a time it was; ut Darkin, asses~
ceptible to a woman’s charms as most men, soon ‘
reached the conclusion that he had about
much right to Grace as any one else. And fol«
lowing out this line of thou ht after Grace had r
been confined beneath his itable root for
twenty—four hours, he soon reac ed a conclusion
that gave him great satisfaction, but which ,_
threatened the peace and well-being of his , ’

guest.

 

 

 

 

rman Joe almost r V

  

 

 

~Then he climbed back to his seat, and, (picking

18

And so it came about that when Dunning was
notified by Limpy Dick to hasten to the bedside
of the wounded Dacy, Darkin immediately be-
gan arrangements for a hurried departure.

Ho packed all the articles of value in the
house in a. covered camp-wagon, taking from
Dunnin 7s room nearly five thousand dollars in
gold w ich that foolish individual had left
locked in his bureau drawer. Then he proceeded
to Grace’s room and acquainted the frightened
girl with the fact that site was about to change
Jailers once more.

“ I hev concluded that yo’ think about ez
much uv me ez yo’ did my thet other man, so
I’m a—goin’ to take yo’ ter Denver. I’ve got
lots uv stnfl with me and we’ll sport in great
style out their."

“ You sure] don’t mean that you are going
to take me stil further awa from home?” she
gasped. “ I’m sure I don’t now what all you
men intend to do with me, but if you will take
me back to my father, 1 am sure he will pay
you well for it.” '

“ I don‘t want money,” replied Darkin, reck-
lessly. “ I want you.”

Grace si bed, but her feelings had received so
many shoe 5 within the past few days that she
seemed hardened to almost anything.

“ 1 sha’n’t hurt you.” said the man, trying to
speak benevolently. “ I’ll hev to gag aii’ bind
yo’ now, howsomever, for yo’ might git t’ yellin’
of o’r mouth wuzn’t shut.”

race did not attempt to resist as he tied a
towel over the lower part of her face. She did
not want' to anger him, and thought that in
tgioing quietly she might escape at some future

me

He carried her bodily, wrapped u in a large
shawl, down—stairs and out into t e covered
w on in front.

hen he returned after a few small thin s of
value which he had left behind, hastening ack
for fear that in spite of her fetters she might be
able to escape.

He climbed into the front seat of the wagon
and drove 01f without drawing aside the cur-
tains to see if his prisoner was safe. When out
of sight of Silverside, however, he stopped the
horses and wont aroundto the rear of the wagon
to release the girl. The news of the kidnapping
had probably spread all over the countr by
that time and it would not have been wel for
Darkin to be caught with her. But he thought
he would make it as comfortable as possible for

‘ the girl on the cushions in the rear of the

wagon, and for that purpose be halted the
horses.

“ I’m sorry ter keep yo’ in sech—”

Darle stopped, and, with one hand holding
the gurtains aside, glared into the small apart—
men .

“ Thar gurl ain’t thari”

H _uttered this in a tone of voice in which
an we, anger and awe were strangely blended.

up the reins, was about to turn aroun But

I thinking that he had gone too far already for

turning back, he whipped up his horses and
rode ontoward Junita, from which place he
had intended to take the midnight train for

, . Denver.

 

 

   

Detective German Joe.

The thoughts which thronged his mind were
not very pleasant ones, and he cursed himself
many times for his stupidity. But it was too
late now for repentance, and he hurried along
the lonely road, intent only on reaching J unita
in time to catch the train for Denver.

“ The gurl must hev made sum kind ov a
noise inside ther wagon when I wuz in ther
house," he thought to himself. “ An” probably
one uv ther boys heard her. an’ lookin’ in saw
what wuz ther matter. Yo’ kin bet thar’ll be
sum tall hustlin’ when she tells her story. Ther
pountry’ll be too hot for bold sum uv them fel-
ers.

He reached J unita too late to catch the mid-
night train, in spite of his haste: and, much to
his dismay, was forced to spend the iii lit there
or travel on in the darkness. He deci ed to do
the former, first dzsposing of his horse, wagon
and outfit to the big est bidder.

The proceeds of this sale, together with the
gold he had brought with him from Silverslde
gave him a large amount of ready money, an
be felt unusually independent as he strode about
the streets of the city. and rather inclined to re-
joice over the fact that the girl had escaped

him.

“ She’d only be in the way now, always gettin’
up a rumpus. I reckon she 5 better 01$ for home
—ez well as myself. Ther' ain’t nothin’ I’d like
better now, then—why, here’s Bill Carter,
now.”

Darkin was just about to say that he would
be tickled to death to meet some one whom he
knew, when a miner from Lode Camp, well ac-
quainted with the former proprietor of the
” Whitehouse,” almost collided with him.

“ Hallo, Bill I wuz jest wishin' I’d meet some
one I knew. Let’s go over an’ hev a drink.”

“ All right, Jack. I’m glad tor see yo’—what
air yer doin’ here?”

“ I’m goin’ out ter Denver fur ashort trip,"re-
plied Darkin, leading the way to a saloon across
the street. “ I’ve got considerable business
thar. an’ it’s time it wuz attended to.”

“ I’m goin’ ter Denver myself,” said Carter.
“ Do on see this?" -

He eld up to the light a small black, mud-
stained sachel.

“Yes—what’s thet?” ,

“I don’t know. I found it in ther creek down
tor Lode Cam . It‘s got a lot uv a rs in it,
and, fur all I now, they may be v u’ le."

“An’ ye’r’ a-goin’ ter Denver ter seeabont
lem?”

i I Yes.”

“ Where wuz yo’ goin' to take ’em?”

“ I ’lowed mebbe I’d show ’em to a bank.
They’d know of they wuz worth anything.”

“ Vell, of yo’ want t’ let me take ’em ur yo’,
I’ll save yo’ the expense."

They had reached the saloon by this time, and
entering, took seats at a card-table.

“I don’t know,” said Carter, doubtfully.
“ 'l‘hey may be worth a good deal of money,
an —

“ Wa-al ef yer don’t want-er trust me,” inter-
posed Dar in. “it don’t make no diff’runce.. I
only offered to take ’em to accommodate you.
Let‘s see ther things."

He opened the Sachs] and

, .i

 

inspected one or

a
'5”

was...“ ..

.rx

 

 

"Li Y
E
x

i

9;, 1.

 

"Wanna .
. .a '-

Waa. a.

 

 

 

Detective German Jpe. 1"

two of the folded papers which were still damp
from their late immersion.

“ I don’t know exactly what they air,” he
said, final] . “ But it don’t seem to me ez all
they can] be worth a great deal. I’ll give yo’
one hundred dollars fur ’em, and fifty per cent.
uv what I kin sell ’em fur—ef l kin git mor’n
that fur ’em.”

Carter gladly accepted this offer, and Darkin
counted out the money in gold, taking posses-
sion of the sachel as he did so. He had more
of an idea as to the value of the apers than he
was willing to admit to his or ulous compan-
101].

He had never seen a Government bond be-
fore, but he had a general idea that anything
issued by the United Stat-.5 was worth its face
value, and he concluded to risk the hundred
dollars on it.

“Ef the ain’t no good,” he said, as the two
left the sa oon, “ I’ll bring ’em back to you so’s
to show yo’ that I‘m on ther square."

“ But this money’s mine jest ther same?”

“ Thet’s the idee.”

“ An‘ we go whacks on what yo’ git fur ’em
eflygu’ k‘in sell ‘em?’

“ All right. Thet suits me up to ther handle.
I wonder who lost ‘em’i”

“ The!“ don’t seem ter be any name on it,"
said Darkin, holding the sachel close to a street-
lamp and examining some faint tracings on a
silver plate fastened to its side. “ There wuz
once, but it’s worn off. Kin yo’ make it out?"

He handed the sachel to Carter, whose eye-
sight was evidently better than his companion’s,
for he made out with some little difficulty a
name which he wrote on a card, and after
showing it to Darkin, placed it in his pocket.

“ Joseph Schlergerl Why, thet’s ther name
uv ther Dutchman that wuz overto my place
yesterday.”

The 3 her emitted a long, low whistle, and
then re apsed into silence, refusing to answer
Carter’s questions as to who the Dutchman was,
and where he came from.

“It ain't no matter,” he said at length.
“You’ve got your hundred dollars, an’ will be
money in on ther find anyway.”

“ I know that ” admitted Carter. “ But 1
don’t want ter roh any one.”

“You won’t, I guess. Ef ther Dutchman did
lose ’em. I reckon he stole ’em {rum some one
else. Jest like’s not he threw ’em away because
they wuzn’t wu’th nothin’."

“ Mebbe so," said Carter.

The two spent the night together, and in the
morning separated, Carter returning to Lode
Camp, while Darkin took the first train for Dan-

ver.

The latter’s absence from the “Whitehouse”
was the cause of much comment. His partner,
aman by the name of Casey, rofessed entire
ignorance of his whereabouts at said it was
quite probable that he would return before
morning.

When Dunning returned from Placer Ranch
and his visit to the bedside of Phil Dacy, he did
not at Once discover the loss of either his five
thousand dollars or his fair captive. But when,
on going to the latter‘s room a short time after—

 

ward, he came face to face with Colonel Den-
more, he began to suspect that something was '
amiss.

“ See here, sir,” began the colonel, laying his
hand on Dunning’s shoulder, “ I have found evi-
dence that my daughter is, or was, confined in
this house. Do you know anything about it?”

“ She’s not here,” replied the other, uncon-
sciously telling the truth. “ Not to my knowl--
edge at least.”

“ I don’t believe it,” retorted the colonel.
“ You are the only one in this house who would
be likely to do such a thing.”

“ But I assure»——”

" You can’t assure me anything,” cried Colo'
nel Denmore, hotly. “ My daughter has been
confined here, and I demand that on conduct
me at once to her hiding-place. shall stand
no more of this, sir.”

Dunning salw that the speaker was thoroughly
in earnest, and he backed down-stairs.

“ I tell ou I don’t know anything about your
daughter, ’ he insisted. “ I am merely stopping
here for a few days before going East.”

But the colonel was not to be convinced, and
he brought out a revolver. ,

“Perhaps you don’t understand what it is
that you are doing,” he said, withforced calm-
ness. “ I mean to kill you right here and now,
unless you conduct me to my daughter or rave
that you are in ignorance of her hiding-p see.”

The terrible earnestness of the enraged man
im ressed Dunning with an idea of his danger,
an after a minute’s heSItation, he said:

“ I believe she is here, but the man who owns .
the house, and not myself. is to blame.”

“ Then take me to her,” roared Colonel Den-

more. “ Show me where my dau hter is con-
flned. I’ll attend to the man who taught her
here later.” \

Dunning led the wayto the room in which
Grace had been kept prisoner and producing
a key, unlocked the door.

“ She’s in there,” he said grufiiy.

But as the colonel rushed in to grasp his
daughter to his breast, he found the room
vacant, although there were plenty of si s
about, that showed of her late captivity. is .
anger was increased a hundred-fold by the dis‘
appointment, and he turned on Dunning like an
aura d tiger. That gentleman was evidently

reat surprised b the absence of the girl and

's loo 8 and tone enoted it as he said:

“ She was here a few hours ago."

“ Then where is she now’lm

“ I don’t know.”

“ You must know! I tell you I’ll kill you un-
less you take me to my daughter!”

“But I don’t know where she is any more
than you do. She was here this morning for I
saw her myself. Darkin must have taken her
away or else this man Goodloe has discovered
her.”

The man’s earnestness did not impress the ex-
cited colonel with a sense of his veracity. The
two walked down-stairs together. the latter
handling-his revolver in a way that threatened
thelife of Dunning, who begged him to put it
in his pocket. , ..

The loud talk oi‘. the two and the angry:
threatenings of Colonel Denmore were the-

i

 

 

 

   

causes of the commotion which luckily drew the
 attention of the men who had discovered Gen
ii man Joe in the quicksand from that unlucky
 . ‘ individual to the people in front.
~‘:‘ ’ But just as the colonel had threatened for
 perhaps the hundredth time to put a bullet
through Dunning’s head, a man came up be-
hind him and whispered a few words in his
 ear.
 It had a. wonderful effect on the excited man,
«i who immediame ut up his revolver and
hastened to the pace where his horse was
fastened.

“Are on sure?" he asked as the messenger
assisted im to mount. “ There can’t be any
mistake!”

“Nary a mistake,” was the reply as the

. golonel started on a rapid gallop toward his
~ ome.

 

CHAPTER 1X.
THE 1mm on THE FORTUNE.

AFTER German Joe and Kid Keen had changed
their clothing, taken a bath, and placed them-
selves on the outside of a square meal, they felt
much better than before and in spite of theloss
of the sachel were iuc load to think that the
prospects of a speedy and successful termination
of their plans were excellent. They spent the
evening in the “ Golden Garter," where, strange

v to relate, Joe found a letter from New York
‘ awaitin him. It had passed safely through the
mail to enver, and from there on by messen-
gers to Placar Ranch. As it is of as much in-
terest to the reader as it was to the detective, we
print it in full:
“ New Yo Ma 1888.
“ MY DEAR Wimmmrz— Rx, y 2,

“Another com licat' n has arisen in the Schierger
case which it wil be n cessary for me to call your
attention to. The will of the old gentleman, made a
few weeks before his death cannot be found, and

r unless it turns up pretty soon his wife and daugh-
ters will be left almost penniless. An old will. made
,ln 1859, when Schlerger was unmarried, bequeaths
his entire ropert to a charitable institution in
Pennsylvan a. Th will, I am afraid, will have to
be carried into effect unless the other one is found.
’ I incline to the opinion that the erson who killed
a old man and robbed the safe 01: with him un-
»‘ intentionally a number of pa ers of no value to him—
, self. I have sent a co y o t 5 letter to all the men
v on the case, none of w mm seem to be making any
headway, however, and if you can throw on light
on the additional mystery, you are requestecgto do
so, and without delay."

German Joe read this letter twice and then
handed it to Kid Keen without comment.

. “ I've got the will in my pocket and will have
to start for New York too-night." he said slowly.
“ I hate to leave at this time, but I’m afraid I

/ shall haveto.”

“ Why not send it through by Express from
Denver?” asked Keen, when he had finished the
perusal of the letter.

. “ It wouldn’t do,” replied Joe. “ If I risked
git Byrnes would kill me when I 0t back. I’ll

_ have to start at once. If you wil keep right on
with the case until I can get back, however, I

guess we’ll pull through all right. We’ve got

almogt enough evidence to convict Dunning
now.

   
 
    
   
 
 
 
    
    
  
 
   

 

 

Detective German Joe.

’ “ But the sacheli"

” You’ll have to keep an eye out for that.
Dunning will not leave Silverside without it,
you may be sure, and while he’s here you can
try to gather still more evidence against him. I
would like to know, for one thing, how the will
got in Limpy Dick’s cabin.”

“ It is mighty strange. I reckon he or Nick
Goodloe must ’ev had sunl dealin’s with Dun-
ning. Thet probably accounts fur the knife
with ther Dutchman‘s mime on it.”

“ I guess you’re right. I wouldn’t be surprised
if Limpy had helped his partner steal the girl.
They’re a good pair to do such work.”

After a few minutes more of conversation the
two pards separated, Joe mounting Kid Keen’s
own horse to ride to Junita.

“ It isn’t likely I can get back inside of a
month,” he said, at parting. “But if you will
keep an eye on Dunning and not let him get
away till I return, everything will be all right.
Good~by, old man, I’ll send your horse back in
the morning.”

“ So-long,” returned Keen, as the detective
gallopetl oil in the darkness.

“ I hope he’ll git thar safe," he muttered to
himself as he returned to the saloon. “It’sa
good ways from hyei- to New Yerk State. He
don’t seem to mind it no mor’n if it wuz out ter
Silverside. He’s a mighty plucky youngster,
an’ I’m durned sorry he’s gone."

Keen felt very lonesome loungiu about the
“ Golden Garter ” without his frieu , and long
before midnight he sought his cabin and retired.

Meanwhile German Joe was rapidly lessening
the distance between himself and J unite, which
is the largest village in the county, and is situ’
ated at the northern corner of a triangle, the
two southern points of which are formed by
Placer Ranch and Silverside. A road runs from
the former place direct to Juniia, while the cit
is reached from the latter either by a cattle trall
running across «the hills or by the longer route
through Placer Ranch, ‘

Darkin in running away from Silverside with
his stolen goods took the cattle trail for J unita
only a couple of hours before the detective set
out for the same place by the Placer Ranch
road.

Both, by a strange coincidence, missed the
midnight train for Denver, and Joe, walking
about the streets, soon caught sight of Dnrkin
and Carter entering a saloon. Ordinarily he
would not have followed them, but he quickly
detected the sachel in the latter’s hand as he
raised it to the light for his companions inspec-
tion.

“ There’s just what I want,” he thought,
hastening toward the saloon. “ I wonder how
that man i; hold of the bonds. I‘ll follow him
and seew at he does with them. I must get
the sachel back if I can.”

He waited on the outside for nearl an hour
before the two men appeared, and t on noted
the fact that Darkin carried the sachel. The
latter walked directly to the Kirby House, the
largest hotel in Junita, where he engaged‘a room
for the night. Joe
thing, and when Dar in retired, he entered his
own room and hastened to change his attire for
his Eastern trip.

;

fl"

roceeded to do the same ‘

 

.xwummw...‘ .1... e « .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

, and the detective could hardly hope to remove it

solved to return to Placer Ranch and finish his

 

 

Detective German Joe. 2 19

 

The buckskin coat, trowsers and leg ins were
removed, and he donned a suit 0 “ store
clothes” and a derby hat. The drummer’s out-
fit which had served him before now gave him
the a pearance of a commercial traveler, and in
this isguise he thought it very probable that he
would pass Durkin unrecognized, particularly
so since that gentleman had only seen him once.

He slept but little during the remaining hours
of the night, for fear that the man would escape
him. But his vigilance was uncalled for.
Darkin. never a very early riser, slept until ten
o’clock and then after a hasty breakfast walked
to the railroad station and took a train for Den-
ver. Joe followed him, hoping to get an op r-
tunity of stealing the sachel on the way. ut
Darkin knowing its value did not remove his
hands from it until in his seat on the train. The
detective sat behind him, trying in vain to think
of some way of regaining Bossession of the bonds,
until nearly half way to enver. ,

Then Joe was deli hted to see Darkin show
signs of sleepiness. e was evidently unused to
railway travel and the motion of the train soon
rocked him to sleep. His arm, however, was
thrown around the sachel even in dreamland

without awakenin him. But he tried neverthe-
less, thrusting his and around throu h the arm
of the seat in front of him, and gent y pushing
the sachel away from the sleeping man.

Darkin emitted several violent snorts during
the process but he did not awake sufficiently to
know what was goin on, and when the train
stopped at Kiowa, a ut fifteen miles from
Denver, the bonds were once more in the detec-
tive’s possession. He left the car at the station,
leaving Dar-kin snoring peacefully on as the
train resumed its journey to Denver.

“Now, that I’ve ot the stolen bonds and the
will, I guess I had getter telegraph to Byrnes
to have 'a warrant sworn out for Dunning’s
argest and a couple of men sent here to serve
it.

He wrote out a message to that effect and de-
livered it to the telegraph operator at the station.
Then he sat down to wait until a train would
stop on its way back to J unite, for he had re-

work, which he thought would rot take him, at
the most, more than a week to do.

“Just as soon as Byrnes’s men get out here
with the warrant we’ll arrest Dunning for the
robbery, and then let him explain old Schlerger’s
murder. He’ll have a nice time doing it Ithink.
The man is in a pretty bad box new, for his
money’s gone beyond recovery and he won't
leave Silverslde broke.”

Joe ogened the sachel, wondering what had
caused t 9 increase in wei ht, and found on the
inside the five thousand ollars in gold which
Darkin had stolen from Dunning before leaving
the “ Whitehouse.”

He was quite sure that the money had not
been there when he had possession of the cache]
before, although he had not opened it. and so he
concluded that it was the personal and lawful
property of Darkin. He had no intentions of
tak ng that which he had no legal right to, and

 

he resolved to return the money in some way to

the proprietor of the “ Whitehouse.” . 4 1. Vhitehouses.”

“ I supposa that man who was with Darkin

last night,” he mused, “must have found the I

sachel in the creek and gave it to him to take
to Denver to sell. I wonder if either of them
know what the bonds are worth? I’ll have to
put them where they’ll be safe in the future for

wouldn‘t risk them in any one else’s possession
again for the world. I uess we’d ,better bury
the whole thing in Kid een’s cabin until I get
ready to start East. I wish that train would
come along—it’s most deuced slow business, this
waiting here."

The detective paced up and down the platform
of the station until six o’clock in the evening,
and then caught a train backto J unita. It was
late at night when he ar 'ved there but be con-
cluded to ge‘ right on o for Placer Ranch and
for that purpose again changed his clothing, re-
suming the buckskin garb of German Joe.

It was near] daylight when he knocked at the
door of Kid een’s cabin and told who he was in
res use to a gruff “ who’s there?” from within.

he door was thrown open, and instead of the
handsome face of his partner, there a pound the
angry visage of John Dunning, and Behind him
Joe can ht sight of Limpy Dick and Nick Good-
loe, whi e on the bed in one corner lay Kid Keen,
bound, gagged and bloody.

“ Here’s the man now,’ cried Dunnin . “ And
by the great eternal he’s got ther sachefi”

CHAPTER X.
THE UPPER HAND.

WHEN Colonel Denmore left Dunning, after
charging him with the theft of his daugther, and
several times threatening to shoot him unless he
produced her forthwith, the later re—entered the
“ Whitehouse." He was even more surprised
than the colonel over the girl‘s sudden disap-
pearance and at once sou ht Darkin to see if
that individual had had a and in her escape.

But Darkin was not to be found, and Dunning,
becoming alarmed, went to his own room and
soon discovered the loss of his gold.

 

“ He’s robbed me and one 03 with the girl!”

he exclaimed, rushing own-stairs to give the
alarm. “ I’ll have that money back if I have to
chose him to Europe 1"

Into Casey’s ear at the bar below, Dunning
poured the story of his wrongs: but to his sur-
prise and dis ust, that gentleman greeted itwith
genuine delig t.

“ D’ye m’ane to say thet Jack’s gone?” he
asked.

“ Yes, and he’s taken-”

“ Gone for good?"

“ Why of course, and—”

“ Whoopee! Ther ‘ Whitehonse’ belo ter
Dave Casey,” yelled the man, executing t sin-
tricate steps of a Silverside war-dance behind
the bar. “ Call in ther boys 'till I set ‘em up.”

“ But aren’t on going to hel chase Darkm’!”

“ Chase noth n’—d’ye s’pose want ’im back?”

“ But he’s goth) money!”

“ Ther div wi yer money. Don’t yer see
that of Darkin clears out this shanty an’ fixin'
comes to me?"

Yes, Dunning said he saw all that, but also ’

realized with perfect clearness that he had lost

a sum of money in gold that would build adomn - 

 

 

   
  

 

 

20 Detective German Joe.

 

“But thet ain’t enny uv my funeral,” said
Casey, gleefully. “ Yo’d oughter ke t yer eye
on dei' boodle. Yer didn’t ’low that ack would
keep his hands off’n five thousand dollars once
he saw it, did ye?”

Dunning said that he had entertained that
idea.

“ I didn't suppose you were all thieves out

‘w here, and I don’t mean to allow him to git
away with that money. I want you to get
some men and horses, and go with me to fetch
him back.”

it  I”

“ I’ll pay you well for ii.”

“ No, sir. I don’t w is Jack Dal-kin back
’ere, an’ ther man thet f hes him back will hev
to answer to me fur it.”

Dunning was disgusted.

“ You me think that you can pla me for a
fool,” he sai , threateningly. “But want you
to understand that I‘m in earnest. I more than
half believe you are implicatedl”

“ I’m what?” _

. “I think you are in with Darkin in this
scheme to rob me."

' Ordinarily Casey would have'regarded such
an insinuation asan insult to be wiped out in
blood; but now the acquisition of Darkin’s
property had made him so good-natured that he
sai simply:

“ I wish I wuz. I reckon that 9! I’d ’a’ seen
ther boodle fu’st, Jack ’u‘d never have a hand
in takin’ it. Pd a darn sight ruther hev five
thousand dollars then this place i”

~ “Then you won’t help me to catch this

, , man?” .

“ Nat a catch 1”

Dunn ng walked out of the saloon in a very
angry and disgusted frame of mind. Every-
thing had gone wrong with him for the post

- few days, and with the loss of the five thousand

' dollars he became bankrupt, at least as far as

read money went. -

. “ ’11 have tosee Dacy at once,” he thought,

- _ “and get some money from those bonds. If

that fool only hadn't gone and let himself get

shot, everythin might have turned out all
fink It’s too ark to do anything more to-

 

r'. ht, but the first thing to-morrow morning
 1’] go over to Little Pete’s, and get Dacy to
i" give me my bank-book and checks. Then I’ll
9. ' a all right in spite of this five thousand dollars.
'. V» .~ [There’s ust two men on this earth that I’d like
‘ ' tasee ki led. This man Darkin and Joe Win-
throp, and perha . that sonof—a—gun who’s took
charge of the ‘ Whitehouse” now. He’s the
:stubbornest man I ever see, and if I get a
r chance to do it,‘ I’ll make him sorry for going
back on me.”
, Dunning kept growling to himself, until he
" finally went to his room and undressed.
' , “There’s some satisfaction in the thought
, that there isn’t anything else for them to steal,"
was his‘fiiial reflection, before sleep put an end,
‘ temporarily, to his mental woes.
His determination to rise earlv the next morn-
,ing was not carried into effect. and it was
nearly noon when he finally dressed and went
' down-stairs to breakfast. There he had an-

 

 

 

 

 
 

other wordy _eneounter with the new proprietor...
' of the “ Whitehouse,” whose good nature alone .

prevented him from laying violent hands on his
unruly nest. .

“ I rec on of o7 ain’t suited yere, yo’ kin git
out," he said. ‘ I ain’t beggin’ yo’ tu stay ’ere,
am I?"

“ No, you’re not,” growled Dunning in reply,
for his angry mood of yesterday had not passed
away, “ and I guess it’s because you know
there’s nothin’ more that I’ve got to steal.”

Casey did not reply, and Dunning, still mut-
tering to himself, appropriated one of the horses
belonging to the house, and set out for Placer
Ranch.

“When once I get that forty—five thousand
dollars in my hands,” be reflected, as he rode
i'apidly along “ I’ll leave this place a good deal
quicker than came here. I wanted to find an
out-of-the—way part of the country, so as not to
be discovered, and I guess I’ve got it. If that
detective was laid out now, I would be satisfied.
I‘ll eitheukill hi myself, or get Limpy Dick to
do it, and’xthen I' 1 light out.”

He reached the “Golden Garter” about four
o’clock in the afternoon and was at once shown
to the room in which Dacy was confined. He
found that the proprietor of the “ Badgers’
Nest” was doing very well, and contemplated
removing to his own home the next day.

As soon as he saw Dunning his eyes flashed
angrily, but his jaws were so tied up that he
could not ak.

“ Hello, acy,” said his visitor. “ I’m glad to
see you looking so well. I came around after
those bonds I gave you to take to the Junita
Bank,” he added softly, as the nurse appeared
in the room. “ Did you deposit them i”

A pad of paper and pencil lay at the wounded
man’s right hand, and he quickly wrote a. few
words on a sheet, and handed it to his com-
panion.

“They wuz stole; I ain’t got them.”

This was all. But it conveyed to Dunning an
intelligence that almost paralyzed him, and,
dropping the paper, he stared at Dacy in stupe-
fled silence.

“ Wh-what do you mean i” he asped at
length. “You are not trying to tel me that
you ve lost the bonds P’

Dacy signified by a nod of his head that such
was indeed the case, and picking up his pencil,
again wrote:

“Arfter I bed put them in the closet an‘ gone
down—stairs with yo‘, I cum right back. They wuz
gone then."

Dunning could not realize for a moment the
extent of is loss, but a deep, wild anger surged
up in his heart against the man before him.

“ You lie 1" he said wildly, looking into Dacy’s
glittering eyes. “You’ve got them bonds, and
if you don‘t tell me where they are I’ll—”

‘ Hold on, cully; yo’ ain’t a—goin’ to draw a

p on a. man like thetl" exclaimed a voice at
Bounnin ’3 side. “ What kind uv a. galoot air
you to s cot a man when he’s down. Put that
up. or I’ll fire yo’ out’n ther room.”

The nurse looked more than capable of carry-
ing out his throat, and the mu addressed re«
turned the half-drawn revo ver to his pocket.

“ I couldn’t help it,” he said, angril . “ This
man here, if he is near dead, has rob me at

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Detective German Joe. 21

 

fifty thousand dollars. I’ll get it back it I have
to shoot all the men in the place.”

“ Well, yer mought begin with me," suggested
the nurse. “ But until Dacy gits well ain’t
a- oin’ to let no one fool around him.”

he wounded man regarded the declaration
with approval. He nodded his head vigorously,
and wrote on a sheet of paper a denial of Dun—
ning’s charges, accompanied by the statement
that “jist ez soon ez I git well I’ll make him
sicker‘n lightnin’.”

“ I don’t want to interfere in no private mat-
ters betwixt you two,” said the nurse, handing
the paper to Dunning. “ But I ain’t a-goin to
let a” sick man be murdered right afore my
eyes.

“ But he’s got all my money,” howled Dun-
ning. “ I lent it to him day before yesterday to
deposit in the J unita Bank. He says now that
it’s been stolen, and I know he lies.”

The sick man here showed signs of hysteria.

“ Et you r’ile Phil much more he’ll do sunthin’
terrible. Jest wait fur about a week, an’ then
I reckon he'll be able to talk to you,” said the
nurse. “Jest ez soon ez his jaws git in workin’
order he’ll prob’hly tell you all about it."

“ But my money—"

“ Ther deuce With you 'an’ yo’r money. You
can’t cum here an’ raise Cain with a man more
dead than alive, not when Joe Mack’s a-tendin’
uv him,” roared the nurse, now thoroughly ex-
asperated. “ An’ less’n yo’ cl’ar out’n hyer
mighty soon, I’ll put yo’ out!”

Again Dacy manifested his approval by a
vigorous nod othis head, and Dunning strode
out of the room, pouring nialedictions upon the
heads of everybody and everything he could
think of. Downvstairs he met Limpy Dick, and

the cripple, seizing his arm, led\the way toward

his cabin.

“ I won, 'est goin’ over ter Silverside fur yer,”
he said. ‘ reckon we’ve got a plan ter lay out
ther Dutchman fer you."

But his companion took little interest in the

‘ death of the Dutchman or of any one else just

then and he said so.

“I uess we’ll have bigger game than that,”
he sai an ly. " I’ve just lost over fifty
“gland go lkus." ped (1 hi led ftl

imy ic stop an w st so y.

“ Whar’d ye’ lose it?” he asked.

Dunning knowing that he could rely implicit-
] on the cripple, told him the whole story—or
:1 i at part of it which was not already known to

m.

“ An’ Phil says that sum one stole ther boodle
fru‘m hing?" asked Dick.

es

’ “ An’ he don’t know who?”

“ I didn’t ask him. He had a man there who
wouldn't let me talk to him.”

Limpy Dick walked on in silence until the
cabin was reached and then said:

“I dunno what we kin d0 jest now, but I
reckon we’d better carry out the plan 1 wiiz
goin’ tor pro about the Dutchman. t
mought 've us some clew the to sachel.”

Dick unfolded his scheme to Dunning and was
pleased to find that it met With his hearty ap-

royal.

" There’s a good deal of danger about it," he

 

~ 9
said however. “ Both Keen and the Dutchman
are fighters from away back.”

“_I know thet, but Nick will help us, an’ by
takin’ one at a time I reckon we kin pull
through. We’ll go to Kid's cabin to-night an’
ef he’s thar alone we’ll do him up an’ then
wait fur his pard. Ef Dacy hez lost the sachel
ez he sez, it’s nior’n likely that either Keen or
ther Dutchman know sunthin’ ah out it."

“ Thats so,” assented Dunning.

“ An’ after we’ve got away with these two
we’ll tackle Dacy. It won’t take long to find
whar he’s put the money ef he’s got it et all.”

Dick’s hopefulness did not arouse much en-
thusiasm in Dunning however and when the
time came for the assault on Kid Keen’s cabin
he was the only one of the trio that was in favor
of abandoning tht .cheme.

But Lim y J)ch and Goodloe-who had
volunteered ‘ service—screwed up his courage
and finite late that night the three set out, well-
u‘iued, for Keen’s stronghold.

rman Joe, as the reader knows, had left
some time before tor Denver on his way tothe
East, and the trio of des radoes found his part-
ner alone and asleep. ut to bind and gag the
suddenly aroused scout was by no means an
easy matter. and when it was finally accom—
plished' the interior of the cabin gave evidence
at the free fight that had taken place.

Dunnin had gone under at the first blow
from Ki Keen’s bi fists, but he assisted his
comrades materially y occasional encouraging
shouts from under the bed. .

Limpy Dick, at the conclusion of the affair,
noted in a small mirror on the wall that his pe-
culiar st is of beauty had been considers bly im-
proved y the loss of nearly all his hair, and
that his nose had been flattened out tonearly
double its dimensions by one blow from his an-
tagonist’s fist. ,

Nick Goodloe showed up two black eyes and’a

deep out under one ear as his memento of the "

conflict. But taken all in all, the two partners.
were inclined to look with satisfaction upon
their victor , and were even charitable enough
to arrange ‘d Keen, bound and gagged beyond
all resemblance to his former self, comfortably
upon the bed. V

And it was while Dick and Goodloe were en-

ged in this kindly service that German Joe '
applied for admission. The two partners at
once prepared themselves for the second battle
as Dunning opened the door.

CHAPTER XI.
DUNNING- REGAINS ms GRIP. _

FOR a moment after the door was opened, ,
German Joe stared at the intruders in amaze-
ment. He realized that he had walked into a
tra , and when Dunning madeagrab for the
sachel, he threw it behind him as far aspos-
sible at the same time seizing his revolvers.

“{7’ot ish dis?” he asked, stepping backward
a couple or paces. “ V’ot for you half Keen
tied dot vay,rdon’dt id?"

“Here, Limpy,”.cried Dunning “shoot the
sonof-a-gun while I grab the sache ” .

For obvious reasons, neither order was obeyed,
and in an instant a revolver stared each of the '
men. is the fees and the form of German Joe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

22 Detective German Joe.

 

blocked the doorway, effectually preventing
egress.

“ Look oudt, yo’ miser’hle rascals!” he cried.
“I vill plow taylight troo der fn’st man dodt
lays his hands on me. Vodt are yo’ vellers doin’
here, anyvayl”

The question was directed to all three of the
rascals. but not one of them had the good grace
to reply. Dunnin was trying to get out of
range of one of t e Dutchman’s pistols, and
Limpy Dick and his partner were dividing the
drop of the other between them.

Goodloe, of the three, retained the most pres-
ence of mind, and realizing that the Dutchman
would be unable to cover all of them at the
same time, be seized the form of Kid Keen from
the bed and held it in front of him, much to
that gentleman’s disgust.

“ Put him down,” ordered German Joe, taking
one revolver from Limpy Joe and trying to aim
it at some visible portion of the anatomy of his
partner. “ V’ot for you do dodtl”

As the aim of the weapon was removed from
Limpy Dick, the cripple made a spring for Joe,
knocking the revolver from his left hand, and
thus liberating Dunnin , who was quick to take
advantage of the oppo unity thus offered and
rush for the door.

Crack! Crack! '

The revolver in German J oe‘s right hand
spoke twice and Limpy Dick fell to the floor
never to rise again, while another bullet buried
itself in Nick Goodloe‘s shoulder.

But Dunning had escaped through the door—
way, and as the Dutchman wheeled about, he
could just see him darting down the street with
the sachel in his hand.

J 06 gave chase. sending a dozen bullets after
the fleeing man. but in vain.

“ The sachel’s gone a ain,” he uttered with a
groan, returning to t o cabin, the inside of
which now resembled a battle-field swept by a
tornado.

Kid Keen, bound and gagged, with blood
over his face and clothes, lay near the door in
the position Nick Goodloe had dropped him
when hit by the bullet. Nick himself sat on the
bed, moaning with pain; one arm hung useless
by his side and blood poured in tiny streams
from his finger tips.

Lita y Dick, with a bullet in his brain, lay
partia 1y doubled up, one hand resting on a
‘ pistol butt protruding from his belt. The floor
and walls were sputtered with blood and every-
 thing about the cabin gave evidence of the ter-
rible battle that had just occurred.

German Joe first released his partner, paying
no  to Goodloe‘s pitiful cries for assistance
until Keen had stretched his arms and legs and
pronounced himsslf uninjured.

“I Wishto thunder we hadn’t ’a’ done it,”

_ ed Nick, as the Dutchman approached
im. “ If you’ll let me go to my cabin and fix
up this arm a little, I’ll leave ther place to-
morrer. I reckon poor Limp ez done fur. I
never see each shootin’ in my ife—au‘ I reckon
I ain’t no chicken.”
The partners readily consented to Goodloe’s
nest and were glad to bandage up his arm
an get rid of him. If they _bore him any ill-
will, the sight of the deed, crippled body on the

I

 

floor dispelled it, and both breathed a sigh of
relief when he quitted the cabin, carrying un-
der his left arm the inanimate form of his old
partner.

Keen sunk back on the bed and rested his
head on his arms.

” I hope I’ll never again see a night like this,”
he said fervently. “I wuz woke up out ofa
sound sleep, hit over the head with a club,
jumped on an’ shot at, an’ finally bound an’
gagged by ther rascals. I thought it wuz you

they wuz after an’ I wuz jest grinnin’ all over ‘

to myself to think you wuz prob’bly out to Den-
ver,—when in yo’ walks, natural as life.”

German Joe sat down by his partner’s side
and told him the story of his journey, how he
had found the sache in Darkin’s possession
and following him, was able to steal it and re-
turn.

“ And now ” he concluded mournfully. ” I’ll
have to do elf my work over again.”

“ Thar’s one thing, howsomever thet’s in our
favor,” said Keen grimly. “ We’ve kinder
thinned out our enemies. I never see sech quick
shootin’ as you did jist now. Ef yo’d only
planted Dunning instid of Lim y, we might hev’
kept the sachel. I wonder w ere he’ll go with
it now 3”

“ I don't know, but I suppose we must follow
him as soon as possible. I must get a little
sleep ’now, for I haven’t had a bit of rest for two

aye. '

“ Then, yo’ ain't a-goin’ to New York State!”

“ Not until I get that money and can take
Dunning back with me,” replied Joe firmly.

“Good boy,” said Keen. “We’ll chase Dun-
ning to his hole if it takes us a month. I don’t
s’pose he’ll stay in this place very long though.”

“ He will probably leave to-night,’ returned
Joe. “ And we’ll have to try to catch him to-
morrow or at least find out where he’s gone.”

“ It’s to—mcrrow now, I reckon,”'said Keen,
referring to the time of day. “We’ll turn in
an’ git sum sleep now, an’ when we git up, we’ll
see what we kin .do to‘ards gittin back ther
sachel.”

“ But, old man,” said the detective laying his
hand on his partner’s shoulder. “I don’t want
to put you to all this trouble. I have no—”

‘ Don’t yer so a word, Dutch ,” returned
the scout hearti y. “ I’d rather elptvo’ run
that man to the ground than not. Ef kin do
ennythin’ fur yo’ 'ist speak, an’ I’m that!”

“All right, you ll have to come East with me
afterward and join Byrnes’s stafl.”

“ Mebbe,” said Keen slowly, and so the com-
pact was settled and the two partners lay down
to put in a few hours of sleep. ,

About ten o'clock Keen awoke, and after
breakfasting the two began their search for
Dunning and the sachel. They separated soon
after, each to follow the claw he might strike
first, and if it proved succemful, to notify the
other at once. Keen we must leave for the
present, and accompany the detective as he
starts out again upon the trail he had almost run
down the day before.

He was not disheartened by his failure—if
such it might be called—and renewed his quest
with as much zeal as he had taken it up a
month before. ,

 

“me fio  ,

 

 

 my!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maw: fio  ,

 

 wing

 

 

 

 

 

Detective German Joe.‘ 28 I

 

He first went to the “ Vl’hitehouse,” and in an
interview with Casey found that Dunning had
called there early in the morning, and taken all

his things, and left on a horse which he pur~

chased from the proprietor.

The man did not know where he had gone,
but suggested J unita as the only probable out-
let from that part of the country. He told Joe
of the man’s anger at discovering the loss of his
gold, and for the first time the detective thought
of the possibility of Darkin’s having stolen the
five thousand dollars from Dunning. A couple
of questions elicited more information from
Casey.

“ Darkin took ther gurl with him, an’ thet
r’iled ther man t9“ ihle. He ’lowed he wuz ther
only one ez had or right to, her, but Jack he up
and carts her oif, slicker’n grease. I ’low they
must be a guOd many miles from hyer by this
time, eh?”

Joe was in much doubt on this point, but he
nodded his head, wondering why he had not
seen the girl in Darkin‘s possession, if he had
taken her with him.

“ Then you think der man Dunning vhas gone
ter J unite?” he asked. “ Ish dere no other place
he could go to from here?”

“ Not that I know uvl” replied Casey. “He
seemed in a tremend’us hurry, an’ lighted out in
thet direction.”

” Ahoudt six o’clock t’is mornin‘?"

H Yes.”

“ Vhell, I vhas mooch opliged for do informa-
tion; goot—tay!”

Joe remouuted his horse and set out on his
journey to Junita. His saddle-bags were filled
with clothing and material to be used in dis-
guises, but he concluded to put on his drummer’s
outfit once more. It was the easiest to assume,
and in the West a. commercial traveler is get-
tin to be quite a familiar character.

e chagged his clothing on the way, and when
he reach J unita, late in the afternoon, the
habiliments of German J cc were in the saddle-
hags and the detective appeared in the unmis-
tuka la guise of a traveling salesman. He put
up at the Kirby House, intending, however, to
leave as soon as he could find a trace of Dun-
ning.

A vigorous search throughout the town, how-
ever, failed to bring forth any evidence that the
man had been there during the day. At none
of the hotels had a person of his appearance
registered, and at the only railway station in
town the ticket-agent was quite pos1tive that he
pad not bought passage on the out-going

ram.

But Joe was not easily discouraged, and be
relied on Casey’s belief that Dunning had come
to Junita. He thought it very probable that
the man Would try to deposit his bonds in some
local bank, for fear of exciting suspicion if he
attempted to dis ise of them in a larger city,
where it was pro iable they had been advertised
as stolen goods. .

During the evening the detective sought a
number of places in which he thought it possible
Dunning might be found, and his efl’orts were
at length rewarded with a sight of the fleeing
man. He walked into a gambling house on 8.
Quiet street near the outskirts of the town, and

 

on. entering heard in a familiar and excited
vome:

“ I tell you I had those chips copperedi”

“And I tell you that you were playing them
open,” returned the den er. “ I’m not blind, if
you are.”

“I say they were coppered, and I want the
hundred do] ars. Do you suppose I’m a—goin’
to give you my money like that? I had fifty
dollars on the see to lose, and I won’t be cheated
out of it, either!”

The angry, menacing tone the detective recog-
nized at once as Dunning’s, and his heart beat
high with hope as he peered at the excited
crowd surrounding a taro-table in one corner of
the room.

Dunning almost white with anger was stand-
ifng over the table shaking his fist in the dealer’s

ace.

“ Give me my money,” he howled. “ I came
here to plays fair game and I won’t be cheated.
Give me my money!”

The dealer turned a. trifle pale and attempted
to go on with the game, but Dunning brought
his fist down on the table with a force that sent
the red. white and yellow chips in every direc-
tion and again demanded his money.

It was evident that a fight was imminent but
the proprietor of the place settled matters by
permitting the an y player to have his way,
knowing full well t at the money would event-
ually be his.

The game went on for nearly an hour, Dun-
ning steadily losing. Then, with an oath he
arose and started for the door, Joe noting in-
stantly that the sachel was not with him.

The man started toward the business portion
of Junita with the detective close upon his heels.
He was evidently very suspicious for he 'fre-
quently looked about him and it was with much
difl‘iculty that Joe evaded discovery.

“ He’s probably left the sachel somewhere for
safety,” the latter thought, “and went to the

taro-table with some of the gold. I’m glad the ,

five thousand dollars doesn‘t belong to Darkin
for it would cause considerable trouble to re-
turn it. That sachel has changed hands very fre-
quently within the last month. Hello i”

The exclamation was caused by seeing the

man he was following suddenly stagger and fall
heavil to the stone pavement. edetective
sta to see what was the matter but before
he could reach the fallen man a. crowd had
gathered and some of the bystanders hurried
after a conveyance.

Joe was about to press into the crowd when
some one seized him firmly by the neck and

yelled:

“ Help! Police l”

The crowd turned from the man on the side-
walk to the person uttering the cries, and saw; a.
slim young fellow bearing. in his hand a drum-
mer’s sample-case, struggling in the grip of a

rough, powerful—looking man who was holding

him With both hands and shouting for the
police force at the top of his voice.

Joe, surprised and alarmed at the sudden on- ~

slaught turned his head and saw that he was in
the grasp of no less a. personage than Jack
Darkin. of Silverside. '

Before he could utter a protest against the,

 

 

 %

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

  

24 Detective German Joe.

 

rough usage, a. uniformed officer took-him in
charge, and followed by Darkin, led him to a
station-house, while an ambulance took Dun-
ning iii an opposite direction to the nearest
hos ital.

he detective was naturally very angry at
being thus forced to abandon the chase just as
:he had caught sight of his game, but his protes-
tations were of no avail, and he was conducted
before a police sergeant, where Darkin entered
a plea of highway robbery against him, and he
was sent to a prison cell to spend the night.

CHAPTER XII.
“FOUR YEARS AT HARD LABOR.”

JOE was not only exceedingly angry over his
arrest, but not a little frightened as well. He
knew at once the meaning of Darkin’s assault,
and marveled greatly at the man’s audacity in
trying to convict him of the theft of prop-
erty which he himself had stolen only a few
hours before.

He tried to reason with the police sergeant,
but that officer was not to be “ nionkeyed with,”
as he expressed it, and the detective was placed
inacell until the next morning, when an ex-
amination of his case would be held. He was
informed, however. that Darkir. had offered a.
reward for his arrest and conviction, or the re-
covery of the stolen bonds, at , that his descrip-
tion tallied exactly with that" of the thief as fur-
nished by Darkin himself and several passengers
on the train who had witnessed the theft.

v “I’m in a pretty bad fix,” thought Joe rue-
fully, when he was left alone in his narrow cell.
“The tables have been turned on me with a
vengeance. I wonder what was the matter
, with Dunning when he fell down, and if Darkin
knows he is in the city? If he does, he probably
won’t care, as he thinks I’ve got the bonds and
money, and will be forced to give them back
or go to jail. I cannot safely tell the
whole stor , for if I do, it will leak out
that I am c ose on Dunning’s heels, and he Will
have time to escape. Anyway, I might not be
believed, for the evidence is all against me,
and [have absolutely no friends in the city.
Was ever a man placed in a worse predica—
meat?"

Joe paced up and down his cell in true crim-
inal style until nearly midnight, but could
think of no way of getting out of the scrape,
except by taking arlvanta e of a means al-
ways at hand, and attempt orcible escape from
the prison.

And the more he thought of this, the more
feasible it looked and be determined to try it
as soon as possib 0. Once free, he thought he
could soon clear himself, and at the same time

. fasten the crilne where it belonged.

“It seems now as if everything and every

. one was against me. That terrible affair last

v night is just the beginning, I suppose, of a
’ series of misfortunes which in the end may re

suit in Dnnning’s escape. There is nothing

now to prevent his getting out of town; unless

he is seriously ill, and I hardly believe that. I

do wish I could see Kid Keen for just a mo-

menliy [could tell him something that would

 

settle the whole business. But I can’t, and I
suppose I’d better go to sleep so as to feel all
ri ht in the morning."

he bed was hard and uncomfortable, and the
covering very scanty, but Joe managed to pass
at least half of the night in slumber, and was
ready the next morning to take his placenn the
small line of prisoners who were preparing to
march before the tribunal of justice, repre—
sented in this instance by a short, stout, red-
faced man with sandy complexion and a Ten-
tonic accent.

When the detective’s case was called, be was
cOnfronted by such overwhelmin evidence that
the justice speedily decided to ho d him in heavy
bail, to appear'oeiore the grand jury which met
in the afternoon.

Three passengers on the train testified to the
commitment of the robbery, and all positively
identified Joe as the thief. This being, to the
mind of the judge. sufficient testimony, he re-
fused a further hearing, and said as impres-
sively as his uiiinipressive physiognomy would
admit of:

“ I shall holdt dis young man in fife thousant
tollars pail to appear pefore t’e ndt chury
dis afternoon, and tesire to vharn iin now dodt
his name vill pe Tennis uf t’ese same vitnesses
testify es t’ey hev here, shust now.”

These eloquent remarks closed the examina-
tiffi], and the detective was led back to his
ce

He had not the five thousand dollars to ,fur-
iiish as guaranty for his appearance in the after-
noon, and had he possessed that sum it is doubt-
ful if he would have trusted it in the hands of
his jailers.

In the afternoon he was conducted before the
grand jury of the county and his trial held ac-
cordin to due process of Colorado law. He
pleads guilty to the char e, but offered ex-
tenuating circumstances. w ich he would be
pleased to ofler to the jury or the judge in pri-
vate. This was indignantly refused and Joe re-
ceived his sentence, conferred aftera long lec-
ture on the depravity of youn men from the
East. Inasmuch as he refu to tell what he
had done with the money, and was several
times severely reprimanded for contempt of
court in not answering the jury’s questions, the
judge said he considered that he was redeeming
the honor of outraged justice by sentencin the

Prisoner to four years at hard labor in the tats
rison.

Joe received the verdict with equanimlty,
still hoping to escape from his rsecutors be-
fore he was flnall “jug ed.” ut during the
remainder of the ay an the succeeding night
no opportunity of escape presented itself, and
he became well-nigh frantic over his forced in-
activity. -

Quite early the next morning he was taken
from his cell and transferred to a small‘ omnibus
waiting at the door. This vehicle is known as
the “ Black Maria.” in New York City, and is
used for conveying prisoners from temporary
to permanent im risonment.

Joe was host] inside with a half-dozen other
iinfortunates, and the door behind him securely
locked and bolted. They drove to the railway
station and were there placed in a baggage-car

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

$14,: ,,

 

 

 

- SQWIMWWVA

 

 

Detective German Joe.

that had been side-tracked, evidently for that

purpose.

The detective was earnestly hoping that some
opportunity for escape would present itself be-
fore the train started, and this time he was en-
abled to make the attempt. The four guards
who were to accompany them to their destina-
tion were provided with handcuffs to be used in
case of necessity, but evidently relied more on
their pistols to subdue any insurrection that
might arise.

All this Joe noted carefully, and finally got in
conversation with one of the guards stationed
near the side door. The car was arranged like
all bag age—cars, a door in each of the four
sides. n the right and left they work on
slides, and on the two ends on hinges. The side
doors were arranged for the accommodation of
baggage at the stopping places on the road, and
were not reached by steps from the ground as
were the others.

The detective chatted with the guard for
some time, finding out thereby that the train
mi ht leave at almost any minute. It was
waiting for an Accommodation Express which
passed at any hour in the forenoon. The other
prisoners were either asleep or lying down, and
{he guards were talking among themselves near

y.

This was J oe’s opportungy, and he was quick
to take advantage of it. e swung the sliding
door open with one shove of his powarful right
hand, and the next instant had disappeared
through the opening.

The other prisoners, aroused by their com-
Ban‘ion’s flight leaped to their feet and made a

real: for the opening. All four of the guards
sprung upon them, hurling them backward with
on; hand and drawing their revolvers with the
ot er.

“Stand back!" yelled one of them, shoving
his pistol in the face ofthe small but determined
mob. “ I’ll shoot the first one who comes any
nearer!”

But the crowd, maddened by Joe’s escape,
dashed toward him. The other three officers
sprung on the backs of the prisoners and tried
to’force them further into the car, but seeing
the were outnumbered, used their revolvers.

rack! Crack! Crackl
“ Stand back, or I’ll shoot again. Stand—J’
Crack! Crack!

Two of the convicts fell to the floor of the car
and their companions weakened at once, cower—
in back to their former positions.

0 the attempt of the other risoners at fol-
lowing his example, Joe undougtedly owed his
escape. It gave him time to put a goodly dis-
tance between himself and the baggagecar be-
fore the guards could give the alarm.

When they did so, their former risoner was
safely ensconced in his room at the irb House,
busily engaged in changing his attire. he only
remaining disguise which he was-able to assume,
was that of a United States soldier, and having
the complete uniform With him, he was soon
able to again appear in safety on the streets of
J unita.

This e[guise was perhaps the best he could have
ussum

\

 

 

under the circumstances, for in the:

 

.//2\5'

hundreds of similar characters in and about

J unlta he was sure not to attract attention.

He congratulated himself a great deal on his
lucky escape and at once set out on another
search for Dunning and the sachel. Be pur-
chased a copy of a daily paper and found, in the
local news column, the following paragraph:

‘f Samuel T. Warren, the gentleman who was
stricken with paralysis of the heart while walking
along Knox street last evening, died this morning in
Carthage Hospital. . . . Some little suspicion at—
taches to his peculiar actions while in the hospital.
He gave his name as Warren and said he came from
Tucson, Arizona, but a telegram sent by me to that
place yesterday elicited a reply that no one by that
name was known there. Several letters on his r-
son were directed to ‘Mr. John A. Dunning at
Denver, and ii. is thought possible that he may have
gllven the hospital authorities an assumed name.

0 one has as get claimed the body, which was
taken at once to he morgue.”

The detective read the notice and then started
at once for Carthage Hospital. He cared but
little for the disposition of the body, but knew
that unless he took prompt action in the matter
the sachel might escape him forever. He feared
that Darkin mi t also see the death of Dunning
announced in t e paper, and out of curiosity
find out where the man boarded and whether or
not he had any property that might be worth
conflscating.

At the hospital the physician who had attend—
ed Dunning in his illness appeared strangely ill
at case under the detective’s questions. 9 said
his patient had left no property of any kind at
the hospital, and that there was not a. cent of,
money in his pockets when brought there.

This Joe readily believed, thinking of the inci-
dent at the faro-table, but beyond this the phy-
sician would say nothing, and was evidently
much relieved when Joe took his departure.

He inquired the way to the morgue, but be-
fore reaching there circumstances made his visit »
unnecessary. In turning a corner he came upon
a crowd of persons surrounding two Very much
excited men in the middle of the sidewalk. One
of them the detective instantly recognized as
Jack Darkin, and as he moved forward to see
who the other was, he received a shock from
which he recovered with difficulty as he recog-
nized the familiar face and form of John Dun-
ning.

 

CHAPTER XIII.
A CHANGE OF SCENE.

JOE had not doubted in the slightest degree
but that Dunning had really died. The detec-
tive had seen him fall, and when he read the
very plausible account of his death in the paper '
he did not dream of such a thing as meetin he
man face to face in the street, alive and we .

But such was indeed the case, and he stared at
Dunning, hardly able to believe the evidence of
his own eyes. The man was havin a very
wordy dispute with Darkin, and woul evident-
ly have struck him, had not the crowd inter-
fered.

“ Call an officer,” said Dunning, and as he did
so Joe caught a glimpse of the black sachel in
his hand. “ This man is a thief l"

“You’r' a liarl” retorted Darkin, wrathfully. ‘

“ That sachel an’ what‘s in it belong to me, an

 

 

 

 

 

 

26 Detective German Joe.

 

want it mighty quick. I bought it, an’ yo' ain’t
got no right to it i"

“ I haven’t, eh! Well, perhaps not, but I can
prove, just the same, that yoa stole five thou‘
sand dollars in gold from my room in Silverside.
It’s in this sachel now, with the other papers,
and although I can’t imagine how it ot there, I
know the whole thing is mine, and shall keep
‘ 77

“ Well, I reckon not. You kiu hev ther gold,
but yo’ ain’t got no right to ther papers in thcr
sachel. “ Them’s mine, ’cause I paid fur ’em.”

“Darkiu, you had better keep quiet or I’ll
have'you arrested at once," said Dunning. “I
don’t want to go to the trouble now since I have
got all the money back, but I shall do so, unless
you clear out.” '

“ But them papers is mine.”

“ They are not."

“Yo’ lie. Don’t I tell you I bought ’em an’
paid fur ’em?"

“But the person you bought them of stole
them from me.” ,

‘ “ No, he didn’t, neither. They wuz mine day
before yist’day an’ wuz stole frum me ez I wuz
ridin’ on ther cars to Denver.”

“ Who stole them?”

“ A young chap, an’ he wnz sent up fur it, too.
I had ’im arrested yisterday an’ he got four
years in jail. I tell yo’ I can prove they wuz
mine!”

“ Well, it doesn’t make any difference whether
you had them at one time or not. They are
mine now and have always been mine and I in—
tend to keep them. ' See what acrowd is gather-
ing here—I in going to leave this town on the
first train.”

“ No, yo" ain’t, not till I git them papers.
'Yo’ kin hev ther money but them pa era is
mine. I know what they’r’ wu’th, an’ ’11 hey
’em or arrest yo’ tur'stealin’ ’em. I kin prove
by fifty people that I had thet saehe .”

Dunning walked off, followed by Darkin who
talked and gesticulated wildly.

Joe kept close upon their heels, occasionally
hearing a few sentences of the excited conversa-
tion w ich ensued. Both threatened to arrest
the other and yet both feared to take the step
except as a last extremity.

As the two walked along together, the dis-
pute‘ getting hotter and hotter eve? moment
and finally threatenin ,to come to lows, Joe
saw in a hand-to—han conflict a possible op-
portunity oi’ stealing the sachel once more.

And this was for the present his highest am-
bition. If he could, secure that and then watch
Dunning until assistance came from the East.
he had no’doubt but that the ’evidence would

convict him of the robbery, if not the mur-
der, of Joseph Schlerger.

But his hopes of witnessing;r a passage at
arms between the two men were disappointed.
The sto pad in front of a hotel somewhat
‘sma ler t n the Kirby House. and Dunning,
IOIIOWed closely by his companion, entered and
went lip-stairs, endently, to his room.

Joe could not follow him very well without
attracting attention, so he turned to the clerk
at the desk and asked:

“Who was the man that just went upstairs?”

1“ Which one?”

 

 

“ The first.”

“ His name is Matthews; he is stopping here
for a day or two.”

“Do you know when he is going away, or
where?"

‘5 No.7,

“ Is any one with him?”

“ Not that I know of.”

“All right, thanks,” and Joe took a seat in
the reading—room to wait until Dunning came
downstairs. He was obliged to sit there for
nearly an hour before the man appeared, this
time alone, but with the sachel still held in his
right hand. He walked to the desk, paid the
clerk some money, and then hurriedly went out
into the street and started for the railway
station.

Joe had left all his baggage in his room at the
Kirby House, but he could not afford to lose
sight of Dunning now, and when the latter en-
tered a train bound for Denver, he purchased a
ticket for the same place.

It was a long and wearisome ride to Denver,
and the detective was glad to be able to stretch
his legs as he followed Dunning about the reg-
ular, well-kept streets of that model Western
city. The man seemed to have no definite ob-
ject in view, and wandered through the public
buildings and parks of the "place until nearly
dark, before 0mg to the olden Hotel and
registering. oe ept close at his heels and
placed the name of “ James S. McCarty 7’ under
that of “ C. M. Matthews” on the clerk’s book,
He was assigned to a room directly opposite
Dunniug’s, and when the latter went to his
room to prepare for dinner, the detective fol-
lowed his example.

“ I sha’n’t let the fellow out of my sight ” he
thought, as he washed the dust of travel rom
his face and hands. “Just as soon as I get- a
chance I shall steal those bonds, though it’s

retty risky business. Then I’ll keep my eye on

’m until some of the other men come out here
with a warrant for his arrest.”

Joe dined at the same table with the man he,

was so persistently following, and in the even-
ing accompanied him to the theater. At night,
after Dunning had retired, the detective sought
out a clothing store and purchased another out-
fit, to be use in case his present disguise should
attract suspicion. He also obtained a pair of
false side-whiskers, which, when in position
looked very much like the genuine article an
changed his appearance to a great extent.

Thus equipped, he returned to the hotel, which

he found in a state of great excitement. Dun--

ning, who seemed to have a remarkable aptitude
for getting into trouble of some kind at every
step, had just informed the proprietor in tragic
tones that he had been robbed.

“ When I came down to dinner I left a'sachel
containing seventy~five thousand dollars in my
room up—stairs.‘ I went to the theater from the
table, and on returning I find that it has been
taken." ‘

The proprietor of the hotel hastened to assure
the an ry and frightened man that thorough
search or his property would be instituted with-
out delay. '

The detective, as much alarmed as Dunning,
hastened to his room.

 

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ir.‘

s:

are», WMfise-m as s

 

 

 

   
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

Detective German Joe.

 

27

 

CHAPTER XIV.
KID KEEN TAKES A BAND.

KEEN followed the detective’s example, and
in starting out on Dunning’s trail, first inter—
viewed the new proprietor of the “ White-
house." Casey told him practically the same
story that he had told German Joe only a few
hours before, and the scout set out for Junita,
almost in the tracks of his partner. During the
remainder of that day, and throughout the next,
he was unable to discover any trace of the miss-
ing man.

He was stopping in the Valencia Hodse, and
on the third day he discovered much to his
astonishment and delight, that Dunning was
staying at the same hotel. He saw him quite
early in the dayenter the room next to his own.
The man carried the sachel in his hand, and
was conversing in loud and excited tones with
his companion, whom Keen soon recognized as
Jack Darkin.

On entering the room, which was connected
by a glass—door, the panes of which had been
heavily painted, with Kid Keen’s, Dunning
breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to his com—
panion.

“ Now, what do you Want here? Don‘t I tell
you thatI shall place you under arrest unless
you cease to annoy me! You must be crazy, to
act in this way. wish you would 0 away—I
have no time to bother with on furt er.”

“ Yo’ ain’t, eh? Well, reckon yo’ will
bother with me consider’ble further, less’n yo’
giv' me that sachel an’ ther papers.”

“ But, you idiot, they are mine!”

“ No. they ain’t neither."

Dunning turned away with an expression of
disgust, and after carefully lock' the sachel
ina bureau—drawer, pocketed the ey, and be-
gan to make preparations for his departure.

“ You are either a fool or else one of the
meanest men in the World ” he exclaimed.
“ Why don’t you go back to ilverside, and be-
have yourself, instead of bothering around here
with your nonsense. I’m totally sick of it all,
and won’t hear any more of it. The money is
mine. whether on ever had it or not, and I
shall keep it. ow, clear out, I want to dress."

Darkin was working himself into a terrible
rage. He believed that he had been robbed of
the bonds and really thought that Dunning was
a party to the theft. He listened to the man in
silence, but his eyes glistened ominously and he
gritted his teeth—sure signs of anger in a man
or his caliber.

Meanwhile, Keen was able to hear all that
was gorng on in the next room and see part of
it, for the paint had chipped oi! the glass in
several places and he ooud seethrough. He
congratulated himself on finding Dunning, and
wondered where German Joe had concealed
himself. Had he known that at the time the
detective was in the readin —room, down-stairs
he would probably have 100 ed for a speedy and
satisfactory settlement of the case.

“ I don’t want to raiSe a disturbance here.”
said Dunning. “ But unlem you get out I shall
call for a policeman."

“ I wish ye would. It’ll save me that trouble.”

“ And are you still convinced that you have
any right to these papers-or to part of them?”

 

 

“ They’r’ all mine, an’ I want ’em. Hand ’em

over an" I’ll git out. The money is yourn an’
o’ kin keep it fur all I keer, but I want them
ends.”

Dunning saw clearly that there was trouble
ahead, and he took a unique and elfective way
of avoiding it. He had in his pocket a pair of
handcuffs, and taking them out, he approached
Darkin, while that gentleman was gazing out of
the window. His hands were crossed behind
him, and it was the work of but an instant to
slip the steel Clasps over his wrists and draw
them together tight. Darklu uttered a yell and
wheeled about, struggling to release his hands.

“What er’ yo' dom’?” he howled, tearing
about the room and swearing between every
word.. “ Leggo my hands or I’ll put a bullet 1n
ye—leggo, I so. i”

Dunning loo ed at him a rehensively for a
moment, but saw that it won be impossible for
the man to draw his revolver while his hands
were in their present ositiou.

“ Iwarned you to c ear out,” he said, skipping
about the room to avoid the flying legs of the
maddened man. “ You wouldn’t do it, and so'I
was obliged to handcufl you to keep you from
hurting yourself or me.” '

Darkin didn’t venture a reply. He was in-
dulging in a fit of swearin that almost choked
him, and he whirled about ike a jumping~jack,
tryin highest to free his hands.

" on had better quiet down,” advised Dun-
ning from his position behind the bed, which be
had shoved out into the middle of the floor and
constantly kept. between himself and his an-
tagonist. “It will do you‘ no good to dance
around in that style. Why don’t you behave
yourself?"

Darkin stopped and leaned against the bed-
post, panting loudly; but still employing every
other breath in an expression of profanity.

“Yo’ blanked too], he roared, makin an-
other feint of rushing on Dunning. “ hat’n
thunder do yo’ mean by fixin‘ melike this? El!

0’ don’t leggo my hands, I’ll para]er yo’ when

do git loose.”

“ I shall release you presently,” returned
Dunning, cheerfully. “ But first let us see what
arrangements we can make about those bands.
Do you still entertain the idea that they are
yours?“

Darkin replied most emphatically that he did.
His spirit‘had in no wise been broken by the
rough treatment, althou h his arms showed
signs of approachin disso ution. '

‘Ef you think I in be blufied by this little
game uv yo’rs, it’s time you learnt what’r mis—
take 170’: makin’. I ain’t no chicken, an' I
reckon thet when I, git out’n these things, I’ll
make yo’ feel pooty bad. I’d giv’ them papers,
the hull lot uv ’em, of my hands wuz loose.
I'd maul yo‘ till yo’r own maw wouldn’t know

yer.”

These disjointed sentences, accompanied by
more profanity, did not seem to disturbDun-
ning in the least. He had perfect faith in the
eflects of the handcuifs, and again began his
preparations for leaving the hotel. I

“I shall have to {go to Denver today,” he
said, taking the sache from the bureau drawer.
“I guess I’ll leave you here now, and tell

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

28 Detective German Joe.

 

the clerk down-stairs that you want to be
called at six o‘clock this afternoon. I’ll give
him the key to the handcuffs, and maybe he’ll
release you."

Darkiu shut his tooth hard, and did not trust
himself to reply. But it is safe to bet, that had
his hands been free at the time, John Dunning
would never have left the room alive.

Keen followed the man with tho sachel down-
stairs, and out in the street to the railway sta—
tion. He rode to Denver in the car with Ger-
man Joe, but did not i‘eco uize the detective in
the disguise of an army 0 cer.

In Denver Keen lost track of Dunning almost
as soon as he left the train. He sought to find
him in the crowded depot, but failed; and then
Went to the Weldon House and engaged a room
for the night. He was much disappointed in
losing scent of the man, but thought it very
probable that he would be able to find him in
the evening at some place of amusement.

He went to his rooui to change his buckskin
garments for a more civilized arb, and when
he rang eared he was dressed in a conventional
suit of ack, which showed off his admirable
proportions to advantage. On his way down-
stairs he passed a room, the door of which stood
partly open, and glancing in, the scout saw on
the bed the cause of so much anxiety and
trouble—the little black sachel.

He knew at once the reason of its presence
there, and noting the number and locality of
the room, went down-stairs to dinner. He saw
Dunning there soon after and just as that gen-
tleman began his meal, Keen hastened up-stairs
to see if it was iblc to secure possession of
the sachel an its contents. The door was
locked, but the scout managed to squeeze his
form through the transom above it and drop
into the room.

He secured the sachel and returned the way
he had entered, although in domg so he came
very near ueezing the breath out of his body.

“ Whewl‘ he panted, when once more in his
room. “ That wuz a mighty clus’ shave. I’m
just erbout four sizes too big to go throu h thet
Winder, an’ I’ve scraped ther buttons al ofl! mv
coat in doin7 it. But I‘ve got ther boodle jest
the same au’ this time I reckon I’ll keep it ’til
its right owners git it. I wish I could see ther
Dutchman."

Keen returned to the dining room, and when
he saw Dunning go out into the street without
visiting his room, he knew he would be sure to
return and therefore did not follow him to the
theater, as did his partner.

He loitered about in the corridor for some
time and then, after taking a short walk out of
doors, went up-stairs and retired. He was very
well satisfied with his success and thought how
surprised Joe would be when he presented him
with the sachell The events of the if ' were

.passing through his mind and he Wa‘ mughing

tobimself over Darkiu’s adventure, when he
heard an uproar down-stairs and at )DCB di-
vmed the cause of it.

“Dunning’s discovsred that his :acbel‘s
gone,” he muttered to himself, pleased to think
ow surprised and angry the man would feel
over his loss. “I reckon I'll go down-andsee
the circus.“ r~

 

 

He dressed as quickly as he could, and went
down-stairs, as nonchalantly as if he had been
the cause of all the disturbance.

The proprietor of the hotel was endeavoring
in vain to pacify the unruly guest.

“ Search every room in the house,” cried Dun-
ning, pacing back and forth in the corridor.
“ Have some one watch the entrance here, and
see that no one takes the sachel away from the
hotel!”

“ Yes, yes,” said the landlord, nervously, anx-
ious to promise anything that would quiet the
excited man. “ e’li recover your money if it’s
in the building.”

The employees of the hotel were sent scamper-
ing away to all parts of the building in search
of the missing money, while the clerk himself
undertook to acquaint the police with the
crime.

 

CHAPTER XV.
CAPTURE AND ESCAPE.

THE detective could not imagine who had
stolen the sachel, and was at first inclined to
believe that the story was a piece of fiction got-
ten up by Dunning to throw his pursuers off
his track. But the man’s earnestness in de-
manding an immediate and thorough inves-
tigation, convinced Joe at length of his sincer-
ity.

“ I don’t see who could have stolen it,” he
said to himself, standing in the doorway of his
own room, and watching the search which was
going on in the one op osite. “ No one here
new of the bonds, and doubt if any of the
hotel servants would commit the theft.”

In Dunning’s room a dozen persons were con-
gregated, busily engaged in searchin every
nook and corner of the apartment for t e miss-
in sachei.

hile they were thus engaged, Dunning him—
self came up—stairs, inquiring of the proprietor.
who accompanied him, whether or not any of
the servants would be likely to have seen a
man if he had entered the room during the
evening.

“I think so; some one is usually about the
halls. Calkins has charge of this floor, and if
you’ll, excuse me for a moment, I will call
him.

He returned almost immediately, accompanied
by a much-frightened youngster in a blue uni-
form and brass buttons.

“Calkins, did you see any one around this
door-"during the afternoon, either going in or
out?

“Yes, sir. Himl” and he pointed to Dun-

ng.

“ Any one else?”

“I‘didn’t see no one else go in or out, but this
man ‘JI‘O was peekin’ through the key-hole just
about dinner-time.”

Th0 boy nodded toward the detective, who re
mombered his foolish action, and felt like
kicking himself and his accuser down stairs to-

ether.

“ What! this man?” asked Dunning, pointing
toward Joe. “ Are you sure?”

“ Yes, sir.”

The detective, who had been unnoticed before,
now lvecer“ the center of attraction. The pso-

Q

 

 

 

.‘a‘

 

i
t
1'
i

 

.. 4..-

K,

 

 

4“ "

 

Detective German Joe. ‘ 29

 

 

prietor of the hotel looked at him in undisguised
astonishment.

“ You don’t look like a thief,” he said frankly.

“ That makes no difference!” exclaimed Dun-
nin ,i'oughly.

“ a it true, sir, that you were looking through
the keyhole of this door?”

“ Yes, sir," answered Joe, determined to
brin matters to a climax as soon as possible.

“ hat for?”

“ I wished to see whether or not you were on
the inside.”

“ And for what purpose?"

“ I was looking for the bonds and money you
stole £10m Mr. bchlerger in New York City a
few weeks ago.”

Dunning st gored back a couple of paces,
turned very pa e, and exclaimed:

“ What! ’

” My name is Winthrop. and I am here to ar-
rest you— By the reat Eternal, here‘s Keen!"

The scout pushed is way through the crowd
to his partner’s side, and whispered in his ear:

“ I’ve got the sachel locked up in my room I
took it frum his room jest a little while ago.”

If the detective had had confidence in his
abilit to blufl Dunning before, it was redoubled
new, uowing that the sachel was in their pos—
aesswn.

He stepped forward and laid his hand on
Dunning's shoulder. The man shrunk from
him, asking huskily:

“ Where’s your warrant?”

Joe showed him the badge of a Government
detective, and Keen carelessly brought into
view a large revolver, at the sight of which the
crowd in line with its barrel drew apart.

Dunning’s backbone was broken, and he
readily followed the detective—shall I so the
two detectives?—into Joe’s room. Mr. We don,
the proprietor of the hotel, also entered, and
while Keen stood guard over their prisoner, Joe
told him of the crime for which the arrest was
made.

“ We may need you for a witness to the fact
that the money and bonds were found in his
possession,” he concluded. “ But I think the
evidence which we can furnish will be more
than enough to convict the man of robbery, be-
yond that—”

Joe paused, and a kind of shiver ran over the
prisoner.

“ We’ll keep him with us tonight. In the
morning I think some men will come here from
New Ygrk with a warrant and the extradition

rs.
r. Weldon walked out of the room, and the

,two partners were left alone with their pris-

oner.

“ I wish we hed them handcuffs yo’ put on
Jack Darkin this mornin’,” said Keen, amiably.
“ I reckon yo’d raise about ez much uv a rum-
pus ez he did, eh?"

Dunning did not reply. His face was buried
in his hands and he was thinking deeply.

His sudden capture and the loss of the money.
just when he seemed to have cleared himself of
all obstacles, made him reckless and desperate.
He realized that he was in the power of earnest
and determined men; but to him life within
prison walls would not be worth the livmg, and,

 

survive or perish, he resolved to make a vigor-
ousbéittempt at escape some time during the
mg .

“ I guess I’ll bring my riggin’s down hyer,”
said Keen. “ This room is large enough fur all
uv us, an’ I don’t feel like leavin’ yo’ alone.
Yo’ keep yo’r eye on ther rascal till I cum
back.”

He returned soon after, hearing in one hand
a packa e of clothing, and in the other the
never-to e-forgotten sachel.

“ Hyer’s ther ’tarna] thing,” he exclaimed,
flinging the latter at the detective‘s feet. “ 1
don’t want thcr darned stuff. It‘s caused more
trouble than it’s wu’th, I’ll bet.”

The prisoner evidently thought so, too. but he
kept his mouth shut, only speaking once and
then to ask where he was to slee .

His suomissiveuess aroused oe’s suspicion,
and he resolved to keep a close watch upon him
during the night.

The guard was divided between them, each
serving two hours at a. time. At midnight
Keen relieved his paitner, who at once threw
himself upon a couch which had been made on
the floor—the bed being occu ied by their pris-
oner. He took a seat near t e door, rested his
revolver across his knees and was soon buried in
thought. He was wondering whether or not it
would be‘best to abandon the lazy life he had
been leading and accompany his partner to the
East. He had nenrly reached a decision in the
mental debate in favor of the affirmative side of .,
the question, when he heard a stealthy footstep
across the floor. He looked up, just in time to
see Dunning swing his heavy rifle about his .
head for the last time, and then he sunk all in a
heap to the floor, a whole galaxy of stars dance
in before his eyes.

1: was an hour before he regained conscious-
ness, and staggered toward the sleeping detect
ive, with the blood still trickling slowly down
from a terrible cut in his head.

He scarcely knew what he was doing, but in
Some we managed to awaken his partner and
then sunk into unconsciousness upon the bed.
Joe, terribly alarmed, sprung up, seizing hisre-
volver from his side and leaped to the floor.

One glance about the room showed him what
had occurred. He first alarmed the house by

ressing the electric hell connecting with the
Burglar alarm in the office down—stab s and with
the police station on the next block.

Then be carefully washed the blood from
Keen’s face and arranged him as comfortably
as possible on the bed until a physician could be
called.

The sachel and its contents had been placed
under the pillow of the bed on which Joe was
sleeping, and that had not been removed. This
the detective discovered at once, and when Mr.
Weldon, only half dressed, rushed into the room,
followed by a dozen scantily clad forms, he in.
formed them that Keen had been knocked
down by Dunnng and that the latter had es—

ca .

if}: scout was badly injured, and Joe dis-
patched one of the hote servants to the nearest
doctor's, while he again rung up the police
alarm, this time bringing to the room. thereby a.
couple at sleepylooking ofilciala, Who listened

 

 

 
 

 

 

   
 
 

80 ," Detective German Joe. '

 

to the detective’s story in silence and promised
to inaugurate at once a search for the missing
man.

“Did he take the money with him?” asked
Mr. Weldon, to whom the events of the night

' would long furnish material for reflection.

“No,” replied Joe, assisting the physician
who had just arrived, in undressing the inani-
mate form of his tpartner. “He did not have
time to take that. e was glad enough, I guess,
to get off himself.”

“If you desire, I will put the sachel in my
safe," said the proprietor. “It Will be secure
there."

“I wish you would,” replied the detective
“ It’s over there under the pillow. Keep it safe
until I ask for it, will you 1”

Mr. Weldon promised to do so and carried
the sachet down—stairs, where he placed it in the
furthest corner of his safe and locked the door.

Joe meanwhile had paid no attention to their
prisoner's escape and was exercised only in see-
ing his partner’s return to consciousness again.
They had bandaged up his head while the phy-
sician hastened back to his office after the ne-
cessary materials for sewing up the wound.
When he returned and performed this delicate
operation it was nearly daylight, and as yet,
Joe had received no word from the olice. He
did not think Dunning would be ab e to. escape
when he had been so prompt in givmg the
alarm, but such certainly seemed to be the case,
and leaving his partner’s bedside, the detective
started out in search of their late prisoner.

Joe spent the day in searching over the city
for the missing man, but by. nightfall was
obliged to return to the hotel without having

discovered any traces of him. The detective

had ‘ repared himself for dis uises of all sorts,
but his search was in vain, an be soon reached
the conclusion that Dunning was either in hiding
in the city or had left it early in the day.

CHAPTER XVI.
THE DEATH or DUNNING. -
, WE must now return for a short time to th
man whom Dunning left handcuffed and raving
in his room at the Valencia Hotel in J unite.
Durkin was not a man to let such an insult go
unave‘nged, and when, late in the afternoon, he
was released by the hotel clerk, he went straight
to the railroad station. , v
The tickehagent there told him that a. man
such as he described had purchased passage on a
train to Denver early in the day.
" Gimme a ticket!” said Darkin, savagely,
throwing a gold coin upon the small counter in
front of the agent’s window. ' “ When does ther

 

3 next train leave?”

“ Seven o‘clock.” ,.
“ An’ what time does it git ter Denver?”
“ About twelve o’clock.”

And so, just When Dunnin was arrested for,

the theft of the sachel, Dar in, angry and re-
vengeful, left the train at the Denver station
and inquired his way to the nearest hotel.

He was not only imbittered against Dunning

', for his treatment of him during the day, but felt

that the latter had robbed him of the bonds.

‘ which he was now convinced were worth a good
. deal of money. He had come to Denvar to get

 

 

the sachel back at any cost, and at the same
time to make his enemy suffer for the humilia~
tion he had endured. ,

“ I ’low I’m a gentleman of I did take that
gold uv his’n,” he muttered to himself, as he
strode along the brilliantly-lighted streets.
“ An’ hein’ sech, I don’t intend to hev no son-of—
a-gun like him treat me in this way. Them
papers is mine, an’ mor’n likely he knows it. I
kin prove thet I hed ’em, an’ thet they wuz stole
frum me. E? no ways else, I reckon that young
teller who took 'em would be Willin‘ to cum
out’n jail fur tellin’ who he giv’ em to. But,
what files me most ez ther way he talks ter me
~jest ez ef ther papers wuz his’n an’ 1 wuz
tryin’ ter bunco him out’n them. Jest wait till
I lay my paws on ther sucker i"

Darkin spent much of the night in nderin1g
over the wrongs he had received at B‘lmning 3
hands, and when morning dawned his appear-
ance had improved considerably by a bath and a
shave, but his temper still stood away below zero.

He arose in the early morning and took awalk
about the city, enjoying the fresh. cool air of
Colorado’s healthful climate, but still rumina-
ting over his many grievances, and cursing the
day that had brought Dunning to Silverside.
He did not know then that the same day and
hour had brought the suchel and the bonds.

He strolled about the city during the day, ex-
amining every passer-by in hopes of seeing the
object of his search, but by nightfall returned
to his hotel without having done so. Delay and
disappointment did not lessen his fiery an er
against the man who had wronged him, ,an in
the evening he set out again upon his quest.

It was nearly midnight, when, happening to
enter a gambling-house in a retired part of the
city, he heard a familiar voice address the pro-
xdznietor of the place, who stood guard near the

cor.
“ Don, I lost five thousand dollars here about
a month ago; do you remember it?” '

“Yes; I recall your face and recollect that
you did play high. occasionally. Why?"

“Nothing, except that I, am dead broke. I
haven‘t a cent to get a square meal with, and I
want to leave town. If you could let me have
a V I’ll—~”

“ Why, old man, of course I will. You
oughtn’t to play the bank if you haven’t got the
stamps.”

Don reached into his breastpocket and pulled
out a wallet bulging with greenbacks, as the
other replied:

“ I”did have the stamps then—they’re gone
now.

“ Well, I’m very sorry and hope this will hel
you. If it don’t, let me know of it, and I wil
try to get you a job. My brother is running a.
newspaper here, and he may want a man.
Good-by. Don’t put that money on a taro table,
and it may get you out of the hole!”

“ I sha’n’t, Don, and if I ever get on my feet
again I’ll return it. It’s a small sum, I know,
but it is enough to—why, Don, it's a hundred-
dollar bill I”

But Don had disappeared up the narrow stair~
way, and the man turned away with the bill in

his hand and words that came near to being a ,

blessing trembling on his H95.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘ Detective German Joe. ' 81

 

He turned about and walked into the almost
deserted street, shrinking back in alarm when
he felt a hand laid heavily on his shoulder.

“ Dunning l”

“ Darkin l"

The two stared into each other’s eyes, the one
trembling in the angry and determined grasp of
the other.

“ How did you happen to leave Junita?” asked
Dunning, trying.r to lump his voice steady. “ Why
didn’t you go back to Silverside?"

“ Because I wanted yo’—an’ them papers.
Whar’ be they ?”

“ They were stolen l"

“ From you?”

‘1 Yes.”

“ When?" '

“ Last night, in'the Weldon House."

“ I don’t believe it. Yo’r’ lyin’ so's to git rid
uv me. But yo’ won’t—I‘m a-goin’ to hev them
papers an’ then I'll settle my leetle grudge with

on.

“ But I tell you they were stolen.”

“Then cum with me to this Weldon House
an’ rove it."

“ can‘t,” gasped Dunning.
dare go there." ,

“ I. thought yo’ wuzn’t tellin’ ther truth.
Now I want them papers, an’ no more toolin’
about it."

“ I hav’n’t got—
one will see you!”

“I won’t do it. EE yo’ don’t tell me whar
thet sachel is I’m a-goin’ to shoot yo' right
hyei' an‘ now.”

The angry, earnest tones of the man rung
faintly in Dunning‘s ears, a kind of numbness
and weakness stole,over him and he staggered
against the side of the building.

“Don’t,” be murmured faintly. “I’ve got
another one—of those attacks—call some one!”

Darkin looked at him watchfully.

“ None uv yer i’oolin’. I ain’t a-goin’ to stand
no nonsense liyer jest—hol’ on, stan’ upl”

Dunning sunk down to the sidewalk with a
low sigh, blood issuing from between his white,
closed lips.

Dakin gazed at him in astonishment and
then rushed into a saloon near by to summon
help. When he returned, he found a man bend-
ing over the almost unconscious form of his late
adversary, and trying to get him to speak.

In spite of the partial disguise, Darkin re-
cognized the new-comer as German Joe and
then sneaked off in the darkness, which, as it
hid him from the detective‘s view, takes him
from our further attention. (It may be said,
however, that, after much argument, Casey
accepted his return to partnership in the
“WhitehOUSe.” retaining for himself however,
the right to taunt him occasionally for his lack
of wisdom in ever leaving such apaying con-
cern.)

Dunning was dyingl

It did not take Joe long to discover this fact
after he had come acrOss the body in one of
Denver’s most deserted streets. The detective
folded his coat and laid it under the man’s head
Just as several persons came from the saloon in
response to Darkin’s alarm.

“ Dunning,” said Joe, “ can you hear me?”

“ I wouldn‘t

Put up that pistol or some

 

“ Yes," very huskin answered the dying man. '

“ Did you take the money from Schlerger?“

A: Yes."

“ And kill him?"

“ Yes,” still more faintly.

He was dead!

The detective aSSisted the bystanders in re-
moving the body to the saloon, from which place
it was presently taken to the nearest under—
taker’s, at J oe’s request. >

Then the detective returned to the Weldon
House, and finding his partner resting comfort-
ably, and able to hear tho shock, Joe told him
the story of Dunning’s death, _

“ Poor 1001,” said Keen. “ He might better
’a’ stayed hyer. Mebbe he wouldn’t ’a’ died
then "

“ Perhaps not,” answered Joe, 8. little absent-
ly. “ I reckon we’ve finished this case now.
How long before you will be able to go East?”

“ Me—go East?”

“ Certainly."

“ What furl"

“ You are goin to go in partnership with me,
are on not? a work very well together in
this usiness, and I know Bymes will give you
an a pointment to his stafl when he hears what
you have done out here.”

“ Yo’ think so?"

“ I know it.”

“ Wa-al, mebbe I’d better try it. I reckon
it’s better‘n this norm-count life out hyer. But
when ’er yo’ goin’ tor New York?”

“ Just as soon as you get so that you can
travel."

“ Yo’ ain’t a-goin' to wait fur me?"

“ Of course."

“ But that money an’ ther will; what’ll yo’ do
with them? Hadn’t they orter go to New
York?” "

“ I’ll send them back with the detectives I
telegraphed for the other day. They will prob-
ably come in this afternoon.”

“ An' air yo’ goin’ back to Placer Ranch?
Yo’d orter go over tor see the boys, an’ tell ’em
how everything’s turned out. Little Pete ’u’d
be tickled to deat .” '

“ I was just thinking of it. I guess I’ll make
my report in writing now, and send it to New
York with the sachel and will. That will finish
up the case, and then I’ll go over to Placer
Ranch to spend the night. I’ll be back to-
uiorrow.”

The detective did an, and late in the afternoon
started for Placer Ranch. t was a long and
tiresome journey, but be felt interested in the
welfare of his friends in the little mining-town,
and determined to see them once more before
going East. He reached Little Pete's about
daybreak, and found the inmates of the “ Golden
Garter” just getting up. _

Little ,Pete himself had only Just recovered
from the wound he had received in the raid
upon the “ Badgers’ Nest,” and received the de-
tective with open arms. I

“ Here's ther Dutchman!” he shouted, rushin
from behind the bar to grasp the detective’s han .
“ We‘ve been a—lioaring 'round hyer thet yo’ wuz -
a detective avchasin’ thet man in Silverside fer
murderin’ some one out East, but we didn’t ’low
you’d be back ag’in. Nick Goodloe’s been

“ God rest my—"

 

  

32 Detective German Joe.-

 

a-tellin’ us about you an’ Keen, an’ we buried
Limpy Dick yist’day. Nick’s reformed, I kin
tell yo’, nn’ jest as soon or his arm gits in sha e
he’s a-goin’ to work. The gal has got bac ,
lookin’ jest as retty as she did nfore, and ther
coloncl’s a—goin ter start East today.”

Little Pete rattled on, giving the detective all
the news, and at the same time filling a score of
glasses for the party of men now collected about
the burl ,

“ Here yo’ go!” he shouted, raising a bottle in
the air. “ Drink to the life an’ health uv ther
ha seed 5 ort—thet wuz.”

oe smi ed, and asked how. Dac was.

“He kin answer fur himself, reckon,” said
that individual, whom the detective had not
noticed in the crowd. “ I’m well enough to lay
out that man who called me a thief. Whar did
yo’ leave ’im?"

Joe told the story of his search, of the man’s
capture, escape, and final death, and of .Kid
Keen’s injury. The crowd listened attentively,
and each man crowded forward to shake. his
hand when he left the saloon.

“ I’ll’go over and call on Colonel Denmore,”
he said at parting. “ Good-by, boys!”

" Good-by, Dutchyl” they yelled, waving their
but:l over their heads as he galloped down the
roa .

CHAPTER XVII.
CONCLUSION.

AFEW days later, a party of half a dozen
persons were sitting together in the parlor car
of a train flying eastward. Joe Winthrop stood
leaning over the back of Grace Denmore’s
chair, pointing out of the window at some. bits
of pretty scenery, but more frequently glancing
down at the beautiful face of the young girl,
still pale and wan from the effects of her torri-
ble experience in Silverside.

Kid Keen reclined, at full length upon a
cushioned couch, near by, occasionally taking
part in the general conversation. He had just
offered to play a game of penny-ante with the
porter of the car, who had confided to the scout
his ability to play that {estimating game. But
in the absence of a pack of cards, this was inn-
possible and Keen heartily wished that their
Journey was over.

Colonel Denmore and his wife were with the
party, the latter looking happy and well, and
the former dividing his time between quarrel-
ing with the conductor and arguing politics—on
which subject he was exceedineg rusty—with
a' little man who sat near him.

‘ The train reached Buffalo about eight o’clock
in the morning, and the travelers took another
at once for New York city, reaching the latter
place in the evening.

Colonel Denmore and his family took a car-
riage to their residence in the upper part of
the city and the two partners started down-
town. ‘

Joe led the way to Inspector Byrnes’s private
ofiice in Police Headquarters, and was at once
admitted. He made his report, delivered the
sachel and the will, and was about to retire to
await another aSSignment, when Byrnes said:

“Winthrop, you have done very well, and
deServe the gift which it is my pleasure to be-

 

stow. But first, let me do as you have re-
quested.”

The inspector made out a formal certificate
of a pointment to Kid Keen as detective on his
sta , and handed the scout a silver badge.

“ Your duties will commence at once,” he
said. “I shall always try to let you two work
together. You make a good team. But before
you go, allow me to present you with this.”

He held toward them the sachel which had
caused them so much trouble and danger.

“ Mrs. Schlerger told me, when I showed her
your telegram, saying that both the will and
the money had been recovered, that I should
give you the money as a reward for your efforts.
The will places at her disposal an amount of
money many times the value of this. You’ve
earned it; take the boodle and divide it between

on.

Joe took the sachel and handed it to his part-

ner.

“ We are gettin well. paid-—better, I think,
than we deserve. here’s a good deal of money
there.” ‘

“ I know it,” answered the inspector turning
to his desk “ but it’s all yours. Do what’sright
with it and report for duty in the morning."

We did intend to end our story here but feel
inclined to yield to the temptation to show to
the reader, the home of the two partners about
a month after their visit to Inspector Byrnes’l
office. It is situated ina pleasant part of the
city, but not in a part in which extravagant
rents would soon eat up their little fortune.

It is presided over by a very pretty Mrs.
Winthrop, who frequently says that her hus-
band ought to have rescued her from her kid-

nappers in Silverside. instead of leaving: it to '

one of her father’s friends in Placer Ranch.
But while Joe admits that the fact does take
away a little of the romance that might other-
wise attach to their marriage, he insists that he
is satisfied as it is and is heartily glad that the
Placer Ranch man was given the opportunity.
And Keen—~— ” Wa-al, I’m kinder gittin' use
tor this COun.ry but it don’t touch a feather to
Colorady. IE! it wuzn’t fur Joe an’ ther excite-
ment I’m gittin’ in oif’n on, I reckon I mought
git lonesome. Ez it is, I’m kinder glad I cum.”

THE END.

 

Beadle’s guy’s library.

27’? Jnek Jordan’s Part]; or, The Santa Fe Hunters. By Mn.
M V Vi

. . cum
2?8 Tom. the 0111 Tar; or, Junk Winthwp’n Long Trail. By
Roger Starbuck.
279 Dolly’n Death-shut: 0!, Dusky Mark, the Young “’ild-cnt.
By Capt. Charles Howard.
280 Detect-Ive German Joe; or, The: Flying Dutclnnun Out
csL. llv llownril M. 80' nluu.
281 Joe cum». Double; 0r,Thu Idiot’s Cunning. By Jon. E.

minor, Jr. ‘
282 Nat “edge, the Paddler, or, Black Cato" Trick. By Henry,

J. Thomas.
283 Nell. the Htowuwa ; or, Adrift in Brazil. By C. D. Clark.
284 Dan, the Durky I warn or, Brook and his Trained Dog.
By Ralph Ringworrd.

Bendie’s Boy’s lerary is for nude by all Nomdenlen, flu
cam- per copy, or amt bv mail on receipt ohix cent! each.

BEADLE AND ADAMS. I’ubllahorn,
as William Street. New York.

' V v. ..
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a;
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