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S ROUGH AND TUMBLE FIGHT

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EW YORK.

A BOY’

Entered at the Post Office at New York. N. Y., as Second Class Man Matter.
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FROM NEW YORK TO CALIFORNIA

ENTUCK, THE SPORT.

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UGET THE RCFTIAN BY THE

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CA

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No 98 WILLIAM
Or,
BY ALBERT W

OVERLAND KIT," “ uocxv MOUNTAIN ROB." “K

 

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PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BLADE ANT) ADAMS,

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“TALBOT 0F CINNABAR," “RED RICHARD,” “KIT CARSON
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\VITH WONDERF

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YOUNG DIGK TALBOT

AUTHOR ox“
TALBOT

 

 

$2.50 a year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Young Dick Talbot.

 

 

Young Dick Talbot;

A Boy’s Rough and Tumble Pig-ht
‘ from New York to California.

 

BY ALBERT W.‘ AIKEN,

AUTHOR or “OVERLAND KIT.” “:10ch MOUN-
IAIN non,” “KENTUCK, THE SPORT,” “1N-
JUN DICK,” “CAPTAIN DICK TALBOT,"
“GOLD DAN,“ “TALBOT OF CHINA-
'BAB,” “RED RICHARD,” “KIT
CARSON, KING or GUIDES,”

ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER I.
 ' FATHER AND SON.

Dos, story of the early life of the man of
whom we have written so. much, the daring
adventurer, who in the wild Western land was
known as Richard Talbot, or Injun Dick, com-
mences in New York city some forty years
a

 

0.
8At that tim‘e the great metro lis was but a
weakling city compared to w at it is now;
Fortieth street bounded its northern limit, and
many well-to-do people dwelt in the down—town
streets now given up to the demands of trade.

East Broa way was then a fine street, many
wealthy merchants had their homes there, and
amon the rest were two brothers, Patrick and
Danie Gwyne, partners in a flourishing import-
in business.

rishmen were they lg

“Black North,” as the rotestant provinces in
the northern art of Ireland used to be termed
by the Englis officers who were always very
much averse to being detailed for duty there,
as the inhabitants were cold and formal in their
manners, a decided contrast to the fun—loving
peo le of the southern towns.

T etwo brothers were good representatives
of the cold north, both had been married to
south of Ireland girls, both had lost their wives,
but had a child apiece to remind them of their
helpmates.

Patrick, the elder brother, had a son, a boy
of eighteen, at the time of which we write, and
named Patrick also like his sire.

Daniel was blessed with a daughter, a blue«
eyed, golden-haired beauty, a perfect little fairy
of a girl called Bernice.

The children were a most decided contrast to
their fathers, takin after their warm-hearted
southern mothers, ing rash, impulsive and
alto ether wanting in the cold reserve and
pru ,gnt caution of their sires.

Bernice. was but a. child, being nearly ten

years younger than her cousin, Patrick.

She was ,the idol of- both her father and
uncle, the latter being especially drawn toward
her, because he fancied he had good cause to be
dissatisfiedwith his son. . r

The wild; i‘m ulsive traits did not seem to be
so bad in the r] as they ap red in the boy.

Ever since young Patric, was fifteen years
old, when he left school to take a subordinate

ositiou in his father’s business, he and his sire
had been drawing further and further apart.

Not but the be attended strictly to his duties,
but day by day 6 more clearly s owed that he
had a will of his own and was not disposed to
yield implicitly to an' his father’s whims. I .

And, as enerally happens in all cases of this
kind, thesre' ew more and more stern, and
more disposed force the boy at all hazards to
obey his all test wish, as he fancied be per‘
ceived an in instion on his son’s part to do as
be pleased. = '

‘As time went on, there were hot words every
now and then between the two, for the boy was
high-whitest, and resented the iron rule of his

' father, which was beginning to develop into
downri ht tyranny.

The 0 man was really not'aware of this for
he belie he was acting strictly for his son’s
good, and mourned greatly at the rashness of his

impulsiveso‘n, never dreaming that he, in a great
measure,uwas responsible for it. for there was a
greahdeal of the bigot and fanatic about the
stern oh“! man, and with his inflexible rules be
was vomit! the really noble spirit of his boy
near to Verge»! open rebellion.

0n the particularfnight that our story com-
mences, there was an openru ture between the
two, for the old man, yieldi to a mean im-

pulse had placed a spy upon 1) 3 son and the re-
rt made by this creature, excited him almost

0, madness.
After the fashion of the race from which he
sprung old Patrick Gwyne held a family coun-

birth, natives of the '

he consults himself about the matter.

' youn

 

gil sad young Patrick was cited to appear be~
ore . > ‘ ‘

In the somber parlor sat the two brothers, the
golden-haired fairy, Bernice, was nestled in an
old-fashioned arm-chair in a corner, a look of
apprehension upon her beautiful features, and
young Patrick, with a proud look upon his hand-
some face, faced his judges with an undaunted
mien. -

Young Gwyne at this time had just reached
his eighteent year, and being extremely well
developed for his age was an almost perfect
specimen of youthful manly beauty.

He stood fully five feet eight high, weighed
about one hundred and thirty pounds, was as
spar as a c t, and as subtle as a snake. "

is face was a handsome one, with its regular
features, all clearly cut, his dark blue-black
eyes and brown-black hair, clustering in crispy
ringlets close to his perfectly shaped head, and
its bright, honest expression.

A youth, right at the entrance of his worldly
path, with a great future before him, if all went
well, for he was one of nature’s noblemen.

A dark scowl came over the face of the father
as be surveyed his son.

The spirit of independence so plainly visible
in the boy’s appearance made him angry; he
would have fain seen the youth tremble and
quail beneath his frown.

The uncle too shook his head in a solemn man—
ner. Less bard b nature than his brother yet
he believed him 0 be in the right and deeply
regretted that his unlucky nephew by his grace-
less conduct should cause so good a father so
much trouble.

“ So, you have come?" iioth the old man,
glaring at the boy with t e angry frown of a
judge eager to administer a deserved sentence
upon a hardened criminal. v

“Yes, sir, you sent for me and of course I
came instantly to learn your leasure,” replied
the boy, perfectly cool and sel possessed.

“U on my word, young man, you have the
impu ence of Satan himself l” exclaimed old
Patrick, enraged at the gallant bearing of the
youth.

“ I hope not, sir, for I do not consider that it
would be a merit.”

“ Oh, isn’t it a merit to set yourself up in open
defiance of your father?"

“ I am not aware, sir, that I have done any-
thing of the kind.” ,

“ 0 you dare to tell me that you have yield—
ed imJJlicit obedience to all my wishes?” cried
the 01 man in a rage, shaking his uplifted fin—
ger in warning.

“ All your wishes, sir, that I ought to respect,
1 have obeyed to the letter.” ,

“Aha! do you hear that, Daniel?” the father

—exclaimed. , “Do you hear how he talks like a.

lawyer? All my wishes that he ought to re-
spect—he makes himself the udgle, you see. If
I lay a command upon him t at 6 doesn’t like,
He obeys
me when it suits him, and when it doesn’t suit
him, I may go hangI for all he cares.” '

_“Upon my wor .it is a shamcl” interposed
the .uncle. “ 0h, Patrick, my boy, is it you
that Oillllght to set yourself up in opposition to
the w of your father?” and e shook his head
in‘the most doleful manner.

“ And what, in Heaven’s name. am I?” cried
Patrick, vehemently. “ A slave, with
no W] l of my own—no right to do aught of my
own free desire? I am not a child, and do not
think that it is right I should be kept in leading
strings, as thong I was nothing but a boy of
ten

“Patrick, ion are upon the downward path l”
cried the fa er solemnly. “If you go on in
your dissolu course, you will surely come to
be hanged in the end. You will bring hitter
sorrow and shame not only upon yourself but
upon all who bear your name. ’

"Father, you are too harsh with me,” re-
sponded the boy, choking back the passionate
denial which had risen to his lips, and endeavor-
ing to reason calmly about the matter.

‘Too harsh with you?” exclaimed the old
man, wing more and more violent. “ By my
soul! have not been half strict enough. If I
could have foreseen this ten years ago, I would
have had you put in solitary confinement. and

.fed upon bread and water, until I had broken

this satan-like spirit which has grown up within
011.

“ Maybe you think that I do not know of
your goings-on; you think I am ignorant of
the downward path that your feet have been
treading for the past three or four years.

“ But I know more than you dream of. I’ve
had a sp upon your track, and I know every-
thing. sn’t that true, brother Daniel!"

 

“Yes, yes,” responded the uncle, with a
groan. ' f

The younger brother was but an .echo of
tlfie elder, always agreeing with him in every-
t in .
“ five had you watched!” continued the old
man, growing more and more violent, as he re-
flected upon his wrongs. “ Think of that—think
of the shame of it! Compelled to put a spy upon
my own soul"

“ But there wasn‘t any necemity of doing
anything of the kind!” cried the young man
indignantly the hot blood reddening his cheeks
and forehead. 'i .‘

“ Wasn’t there?” asked the father in a tone of
withering contempt. ‘

“No, sir, there was not. If you had asked
me I would freely have told you everythingr
that you desired to know. Whatever my faults
may, be, father, duplicity is not one of them. I
am of your blood, and tradition says there never
yet was a liar with the Gwyne name.”

“And do you mean to so you would have
dared to stand up before me and tell me to my
teeth what I have found out about you?"

“I do not know of course of what offenses I
am charged by this unknown spy, who, like all
the class to which he belongs, no doubt did his
best toearn his money, but this I will say, I
would have told you the truth and abided by
the consequences.”

 

CHAPTER 11.
HARSH CONDITIONS.

“You think to hoodwink me by this brava-
do!” exclaimed the old man fearfully exaspera—
ted, “ but you’ll crouch and tremble when you
discover that 1 know everything.”

“ No, father, to crouch is not in my nature,”
replied the son. “When I am in fault I am
ready to own it frankly and abide the result,
and now, when I look back over the past few
years I am conscious that I have not acted as I
should have done. I have been wild and reck-
less, but in a measure you are to blame; you have
ruled me with an iron rein and in the folly of
youth, rebelling a ' inst what I considered to be
unjust treatment, have been led into indiscre-
tions, of which, otherwise, 1 should not have
been guilty.”

The rage of the father became increased by
this bold speech, the more so that in his heart
he knew that every word was true.

He had attempted to reduce his proud, high—
spirited son to the abject condition of aslave;
was it a wonder that such a boy should have
resented the ill—treatment?

“ Ah, matters have come to aflne state indeed
when a sea grace son dares to upbraid his
father!" cri the old man in heat. ‘ Of course
I am to blame for all of it because I would not
allow you to go on in your own reckless way,
but endeavored to bring you up like a decent
boy. But it’s all over now. My eyes are open
at last, thank Heaven! and I’ll soon make an
end of this disgraceful shame.”

“If on apply these words to me, father, I
can on y say that I havs not done anything to
merit them. ' '

“ Oh, you hav’n’tl” exclaimed old Gwyne,
endeavoring to work himself up into a passion,
for he felt that he» was in the wrong and was
trying to lush himself into a fury so as to stifle
the voice of conscience.-

“No, sir, I have not; I have been foolish, I
own, but not in the least degree criminal,"
:nlswered the boy, firmly, yet perfectly respect-

u .

“Ah, you’ll change our tune in a moment
when you find out th tIknow all about you!
Oh, it’s dead I would rather see you than have
you live to bring disgrace and shame on me
in my old age. Are you not a card~player—-
answer me ,‘thatrh—agambler that wins dirty
money from foolish men who can ill—afford to
lose it?” I .

“ I do play cards, Sir, once in a while,” re-
plied the son. slowly, and in a regretful tone;
‘ I am a member of a social club where to pass
the time away cards are played. I with the
rest got into the habit, but we do not play for _
money, nor with any one but the members of
the club, so you see I am not a gambler nor the
associate of gamblers.” ‘

“But there’s not one of them that can play
cards with you; you always win. and that
proves that you cheatl“ thundered the father,
fiercely. I v

“ No, sir, forgive me for being obliged to con—
tradict you so abruptly. but it doesn‘t rove
anything-of the kind. It only shows t at I
have a natural talent and skill for such thii 9.

 

 

Young Dick Talbot.

3

 

I win because I am a better player than my an-
tagonists and that is all there is to it."

“ And you're a pistol shot, too, I am told; you
practice at a target and can hit the bull’s-eye
nine times out of ten; you are fitting yourself
to commit murder one of these days.”

“ Oh, no, sir, it is a harmless sport. and there
again you must blame nature which has blessed
me with quick and correct eyes and nerves of
iron."

“ And you’re a boxer, too I" exclaimed the
father in a tone of supreme contempt. “They
say there is no one in the club that can stand up
against you, that you’ve an arm like iron and
can lay out the biggest man there is there with
no more trouble than if he was a big boy. The
next thing I know you’ll be in training for a
prizafight, I suppose.”

“Oh, no, not the least danger of that. We
onlyuse the gloves at the club for amusement and
because they have been recommended by physi-
cians as a means of healthy exercise for young
glenvlike myself who are confined to a desk al

ay.

“ Oh, you can find plenty of reasons no doubt,
but I ob'ect to all these little innocent amuse.
meuts. ’ll not have ye grow 1) to be a dis-
grace to me in my old age, a pisto shot, a prize-
flghter, a gambler, and a drunkard too no
doubt.”

“ No, father no, stop there!" exclaimed the
boy, warmly, his pride touched by the unjust
accusation. “ No one can say with truth that I
ever trouble liquor: I am strictly temperate,
not only from choice, but because I don‘t really
care, for it; liquor to me is more like medicine
than anything else.” ,

“The only virtue you’ve got, you wouldn’t
have if you could help yourself,’ sneered the
old man.

“You are unjust, father, as you have been to
me for years, so it is useless for me to reply."

“ Unjust!” cried the father, fiercely, “ because
I want to bring you up in the right way. and
set my face against all t is wicked folly. When
I was a boy I had to do exactly as my father
said and I would have as soon thought of flying
as attempting to act contrary to his wishes.

“From the house I went to the store, and
from the store I came back to the house, and I
never even dreamed of clubs and such wicked-
;ilessé.” Your uncle, Daniel, can bear witness to

a .

The brother solemnly nodded his head.

“And that is the reason Why I am now a
thriving man; but ou—what will you ever
make, going on in this evil wa l"

“Do not perform all the uties allotted to
me to your satisfaction?” .

“A cloak—a cloak to blind my eyes to the
evil ways you follow when you are not under
my eye!” cried old Gwyne, vehemently.

‘Father, I will not attempt to answer that
accusation, for I understand that all argument
on my part would be useless. You have seem—
ingly made up your mind that I am everything
that is bad, and I do not suppoee that any-
thing I can say will induce you to alter your
opinion.”

“ No—for I know the truth, and all your
smooth speeches will not explain away the facts.
Now listento me. We four in this room are
all now living on earth who bear the Gwyne
blood in their veins. -

“ It has always been understood between
your uncle and myselfthat one of these days, if
you proved worthy of the trust, you should be
come the husband of Bernice, and so kee in-
tact the fortune that the Gwyne brothers ave
accumulated.

“But you are a disgrace to the name, and
both your uncle and myself are determined
that the money we have earned by honest in-
«lustry shall never be squandered in riotous de-
buuchery.

“ If You could only see ourself as others see
you, you would be amaze at the spectacle you
present.

“ Look at Thomas Atherford, your fellow-
clerk! There is a model young man for you.
He’ll rise, mark me. While you will sink until
you reach a pauper’s grave."

“ Father, it IS beneath me to attempt to be—
little even a man whom I thoroughly despise-
yet in this instance I must say that if, to rise in
this life, I must take pattern by such a sneaking,
criuging cur as Thomas Atherford, then I think
1 would rather remain a, poor man all my life.
You believe in him because. for the sake of your
favor. he is willing to even kiss the ground where
you ,walk. He tries to be on good terms with
me, although he knows I despise him: but I
understand what he is up to—he pretends to be
my friend that he may get a chance to injure

' this wretched, stubborn

 

me. His brother Robert I once had some faith
in, but lately I have come to believe him to be
as bad as the other.”

“ Both of them are examples that you would
do well to profit by!” the father exclaimed,
haughtily. .

“ You are blind, I see, to the faults of every

one excepting the unfortunate soul unlucky
enqugh to be your son,” the boy remarked, bit-
ter . '
“You’ll not better your case by attempting to
injure those two upright young men—and now
listen to my determination in this matter.” said
the old man, with all the sternness of a judge.
“I will give you another chance to reform.
You must give up your clerkship in the store;
you must commence at the ye foot of the
adder, and begin as the porter. want to hu-
miliate you, and see if I cannot drive out this
pride and break your stubborn will.

“And as lime goes on. if I we that youare
turning over a new leaf and leading a different
life, I will promote you gradually, as 1 see on
are deserving of favor. But all your be its
of life must be changed. No more of these fine
clothes; you must dress as a rter would dress.
Straight from the house to t e store you must
go, and when your work is done you must re—
turn immediately to the house again. I must
have an account of how you pass every hour in
the day from the time you get up, until you re-
tire to rest again.”

“ And if I do not submit to these harsh condi—
tions?” the young man asked. ‘

“Then you are no longer a son of mine!”
cried the old man, sternly. “I disown you!
You must go forth from this house and never
return to it while the breath of life is in my
body l"

“Oh uncle, you will not be so cruel l" walled
the child, Bernice, her big blue eyes filled with
tears.

“ Be silent, my dear, ou must not plead for

y l” exclaimed the old
man. >

“ You are right, father, about that; I am
stubborn for I would sooner gain my bread as
a day laborer in the street than submit to such
degrading conditions. .

“I am your son, father, and as obstinate in
my way as you are in yours. Farewell, I go
forth into the world to seek in fortune; be it
good or evil I will never dar en your doors
again until you repent of the injustice which
you have done me this night.” ,

Taking his hat he moved toward the door.

“Begone and take with you the bitter curse
of an outraged father!" cried the old man in a
fearful rage.

.The boy replied not but went forth into the
night.

 

CHAPTER III.

CAST UPON THE WORLD. ‘

IT was with a heavy heart. despite his bold
words, that the young man left the house.

Although he felt he had been treated unjustly
yet it was no light matter to leave thereof
which had sheltered him almost from his birth.

In a great measure the father was wrong for
the boy was not guilty of the charges which had
been brought against him, but the mind of the
sire had been systematically poisoned against
the youth.

The brothers Thomas and Robert Atherford,
being particular favorites of the merchant, be-
lieVed that if the could remove young Patrick
from the store, t eir chance for advancement
was certain, and" so they plotted with satanic-
llke cunning.

For over three years it had been odgoing on.
Thomas passed in the store as a in el young
man while Robert went out of his we, ‘to make
the young man familiar with all the ast life of
the great cit . He it was who introduced him
to the socia club, and although there wasn’t
anything wrong about it, for all the members
were young men of good standing who had
banded themselves together for good fellowship
and mutual enjoyment, yet the schemer's fondly
hoped it would prove the stepping-stone to
wilder pleasures such as no prudent young man
should indulge in.

The affair did not progrese, though, as the
precious pair had anticipated.

With all the vigor of well-developed youth
the boy entered into the sports which the social
club fostered. As a card player he was singu-
larly expert, seemed to be able to do about as
be leased with the pieces of pasteboard, and
con d perform more tricks than any juggle-r or
card-sharp in the land.

As a pistol-shot he became renowned, and

y

 

With the boxing- gloves, the retired pugilist who
taught the club, admitted he was a “ terror.”

But at this point his wildness stopped. He
did not drink, nothing would induce him to
gamble, and his expermess in the “manly art
of self-defense ” seemed only to inspire ’him with
an ardent desire to keep out of all quarrels.

This was the truth but the stories that came
to the father’s ears, thanks to the two schemeis,
represented the boy in the worst possible light,
and old Gwyne, being by nature a crabbed, ob~
stinate man, determined to put the boy through
such a discipline as would effectually crush all
wildness out of him. '

Either l~e must submit or also go forth into
the world a beggar.

This was entirely due to the two brothers,
who had made up their minds to ruin young
Patrick.

The blovv at last had fallen, and as the boy
walked along the street he realized that he was
his own master.

The future was before him for him to make or
mar.

Desolate enough he felt too, although he was
not absolutely helpless.

He had been in the receipt of a fair salary,
and although he had never troubled himself
about saving any of it, et, as be was not in-
clined to be expensive, 9 usually had consid—
erable money in his pocket, seldom being with-
out flfty or sixty dollars.

As he strolled slowly along the street be ex-
amined into the state of his funds.

He had exactly fifty-one dollars in his pocket—
book, and a good suit of clothes upon his back.

“ Well. I am not so badly off.” he murmured,
communing with himself. “Many a man has
commenced the world with far less capital and
yet achieved a fortune.

“ But where shall I go?"

And as he put the question, up in his mind came
thoughts of the golden Pacific coast. The en
riferous fever had been in full blast for some
years at the time of which we write. and the
strange stories of the almost fabulous fortunes
which had been achieved by lucky adventurers
on the far Pacific slope had excited the wonder
of the stay-athomes who had resisted the temp-
tations to wander afar in strange lands.

“ That’s the place for me, California!" our
hero exclaimed. “I will go there, and there
isn’t any reason why I shouldn’t make a fortune
as well as the rest who have succeeded. I’ve
money enough to take me there, if I am pru—
dent with it, and if I could return in five or ten
years, independently wealthy, perhaps father
would change his mind about me. It is worth
the trial, and I would fa; rather go away than
stay in the city.

‘ Now thatI have lost the confidence of one
who ought to have been the last man in the
world to listen to evil about me, the quicker I
get away to some locality where I will not
encounter any one but strangers the bett r.”

Wrapped in these loomy thoughts the youth
was proceeding slow y along when his medita-
tions were interru ted by a slit on the
shoulder, and a well-’kuown voice on timed:

“,grwyne, you’re just the fellow I wanted to
see .

The young man turned and beheld the jovial
face of Johnny Calpen, one of the most (promi-
nent members of the club to which wyne
belonged, and a particular friend of his.

“ Is that so!”

“ Yes, I’m rut fora time tonight, and I want
you to come along.” -
Johnny had the raputation of being a ett
fast oung man, an for that reason, alt 0
our era was very intimate with him at
club, yet he had always avoided going with him.
when Johnny started out to have what he called
a good time.

'II’I‘Iil afraid you’ll have to excuse me,” Gwyna
m is . .

8 Ab, that is what you always say; but this
time I am not at all inclined to take no for an
answer!" the other exclaimed, passing his arm
through Gwyne’s, and falling in step with him.
“ And I say, what’s the matter With you to-
night? You look as if you had lost 1 your
friends," .

“Not so had as that, I hope.” ' _

“ Are you sick?"

“I’m not feeling very well,” the youth

replied, endeavoring to shrke of! the depression
that weighed so heain upon him.

“The more reason t on that you come along
with me and haven. good time. Come along.
and as an inducement I’ll show you a rare
sight—one that will make you open your eyes
too

“ What is if?”

a!

 

./ whatis

4

Young Dick Talbot.

 

“A liar and hypocrite with the mask 03——
your particular friend, Thomas Atherford, the
wily scamp that has been doing his best to make
trouble for you. I have come across his tracks
two or three times in the club lately, and at this

.place where I am going, I heard him boasting last
night to some of his cronies that a certain party
would get the sack before long, and that it was
all his doings, too. He didn’t mention any
names, but from certain things he said in con-
nection with the matter, I came to the con-
clusion he referred to you.

“He didn’t know that I was around for when
I heard him begin to talk freely I kept in the
background on purpose.”

“ I wonder that he so far forgot his usual cau-
tion as to openly expose his game. I knew he
hated me, and most certainly despised him,
yet he always treats me with a fawning civility
that is perfectly disgustiu .”

“To tell you the truth, wyne, my boy,”said
his companion with a laugh, “the modest, re-
spectable and humble Thomas had been drink-
ing some ale and it had got into his head, other
wise I do not doubt he would have had sense
enough to hold his tongue.

“But come along with me tonight and sur—
prise the scamp in a place that he wouldn’t have
your father know that he visits for a thousand
dollars”.

“I’ve half a mind to o with you for it is a
strong temptation to be old the rascal as he
really is,” our hero observed. “ I’ve just had a
quarrel with my father and I should not be sur-
prised ii‘ this low scoundrel is at the bottom of
the whole affair. ”

“ No doubt about it, the sneak is mean enough
for anything. I know he has tried to back-cap
you—440 use the slang—mt the club, and from
what he said last night I gathered that the club
wasn’t the only Place where he has been trying
to make misch e for you."

“ He has certainly succeeded with my father
if he is the arty. and I feel pretty well satisfied
he is. My other told me that he had had a spy
upon m track and had been informed of every-
thin I ad done for some time past.”

“ ,ly Thomas is the man depend upon it i”
Calpen cried. “I tell on what it is, Gwyne, if
I were you I should fee precious like giving him
a good unding.”

“ If e fellow was any match for me perhaps
I should. "

“ Why he is twenty to thirty pounds heavier

vthan you are and bigger every way; he is three
or four years older too, isn’t he?” '

“Yesfihe is twenty-two or three, I believe,
and he bigger than I am in every way, but for

, all that he is no match for me.”

“ I don’t doubt that: I feel sure you can get
away with him, but as far as size and weight go,

‘ most folks would consider it more than an even

thing and say decidedly that the advantage
was on his side.

“ButI say, you’ll come along with me, eh?
Just for greens, you know! I’ll bet this sly ’coon
will look disgusted When he sees he is caught."

“ Yea, I Will go with you!” our hero exclaim-
ed, ding to a sudden impulse.

“ t's right and we’ll have a jolly time!”

 

CHAPTER IV.
A nan or SIN.

This two friends proceeded along East Broad—
way until they came to Chatham square and
then turned into the Bower .

“ You wouldn’t have be loved that this fel~
low was such a confounded sneak, if you hadn’t

f of it?” Calpen remarked. _
, “ o, I should not. although I never liked him
and always had an idea that he wasn’t such a
saint as he tried to appear."

“Not much of a saint about him as you will
see before you are an hour older.”

The Bowery at this time was just about the '

same sort of a street as it is now, filled with
saloons and all sorts of little shows and one who
walked along it jostled people of all nations and
listened to exclamations in almost every modern
an a a.
he owery has alwavs been the most cosmo-
politan of all the New York streets.
Strangers, particularly those in search of
pularly known as a good time, seemed
to find t air way to the Bowery almost by in-

stinct.

The two friends went on until they passed
Heater street and than Calpeu stopped abruptly
in front of a dingy, two—storied wooden house
:iory much the worse for the wear and tear of

'- me. ‘
‘ A saloon was on the ground floor, rather a

 

low—looking place and Calpen laughed as he no-
ticeg the dubious way in which his companion
e e it.

y“ This isn’t Broadway, old fellow, and you
mus’n’t look for style in the Bowery,” he re«
marked. "This is a chea placa, you know,
and does not disdain to re e in anyzhing from
two cents upward, and if a man should be fool—
isb enough to display a roll of five—dollar bills
he would be looked upon as a. millionaire.”

Just such low dens exist in the Bowery to-day,
and one can see plent of the old-fashioned
wooden houses in a stro i from Chatham square
to Grand street, although it is but a few
blocks.

“You’re a kind of a funny fellow, Gwyne,”
Calpen continued, “and never had much curi-
osity about seeing the elephant while I alwa 3
went in for a sight of the animal, but to-nig t
you shall see what you shall see 1”

In his present state-of mind young Gwyne felt
reckless enough to go into any thing.

This was to be t e last ni ht that he would
spend in New York, in all pro bility, for years,
and what mattered it then where he went? So
without objection he followed his companion.

Calpen proceeded like one well acquainted with
the way.

There was a shabby green door next to the
saloon entrance which evidently gave access to
the upper part of the house.

The door Calpen opened and the companions
found themselves in a small entry, illuminated
by a single gas light. ’ _

At the further end of the entry was another
door, tightl closed. ,

Calpen a vanced and knocked upon it.

A little door, about six inches square, in one
of the upper panels was opened and the grin—
nin face of a negro looked out upon the two.

“ t’s all ri ht, Alphonso!" exclaimed Cal-
pen, who delig ted to fix hi h-sounding names
11 n everybody at the slig test provocation.
“ his gentleman and myself are on a tour of
inspection. Are the animals at home?”

"I ’spects they are, massa,” responded the
black, showin y the liberal display of his
ivories that e appreciated the Wit of the
young entleman.

Then a closed the secret panel, and proceed-
gd to shoot back the bolts which guarded the

our. 1

“This is a good stout door, you will notice,”
Calpen remarked, “and by the noise the fellow
is making with the bolts, it is apparent that it is
guarded as securely as the entrance toa jail.
The idea is to prevent unwelcome visitors from
getting in without considerable trouble. While
the door was being forced the people tip-stairs
would, have plenty of time to get out of harm’s

wa .
3ny the time the explanation was finished the
door swung open.

“Many visitors tonight?” Calpen asked, as
they assed the guardian of the door.

“ o, sah, not yet; too earlyé sah.”

“That is true, the guide 0 erved to Gwyne,
as the ascended the stairs which commenced
just yond the door. “The crowd whose
money reall keeps the house going don't begin
to (fit in un il about midnight. ’

r hero had not, a very clear lies of what
sort of a place it was that he was entering, al-
though of coursc, he understood that it was
some den beyond the pale ~of the law; there-
fore, he was not surprised to‘find himself in a
re lar gaming-room, fitted up in tawdry style.

here were half a dozen men in the room,
91d and young, but only one or two were play-
ing; the rest were lounging on the sofas and
chairs, keeping an anxious eye upon a side-
board, where a negro waiter was settingI out a
“sumptuous” lunch, the principal dis es of
which were fried liver and stewed tripe. .

Two of the men recognized Calpen and his
companion the moment the entered.

They were both young, a ut twenty—two or
three apparently, and looked enough alike to be
brothers, as they were. /

Both had evidently been drinking, and were
slightly under the influence of liquor.

base were the two brothers whom our hero
had reason to believe had been secretly working
to do him harm.

“ Youn Gwyne, by all that is wonderful!" the
elder brot er exclaimed to his companion—the
two were seated on the sofa—the moment the
young men entered the room. .

The speaker was Thomas Atherford, the fol-
low who carried himself so demurely during
business hours that all his associates looked upon
him as a model young man.

The younger brother, Robert, was not so skill-
ful an actor, and then, too, he was rougher in

 

every way, while Thomas was as smooth as
silk and as oil as a confidence operator.

“Well, wel , of all places in the world for
him to come !” muttered Robert in answer to
his brother’s exclamation.

Gwyne wasvnot so much astonished as the
brothers, for his companion had in a great meas—
ure prepared him for the meeting, but the four
came upon each other so une ctedly—the,

brothers were sitting close to the cor, and 0211- .

pen and Gwyne came faceto face with them the
moment they entered—that it was embarrassing
for all of them.

Thomas was the first to recover.

All smiles, he rose and extended his hand.

“Why, my dear Mr. Gwyne, this is really
an unexpected pleasure,” he said. “I was not
aware that fyou ever took a night off, enjoying
the sights o the town. It’s very seldom that
do such a thing myself, but the quietest man,
you know, will go on a lark once in a while.
Of course, you understand that there isn’t any
need of speakingVabout this little sort of a spree
at the store. our respected father is very
strict, and has some peculiar ideas about oer--
tain thin s.”

“You et, he’d kick 11 a row if he knew of
us being here tonight!" t e other brother inter—
jected.

“ No doubt, no doubt,” observed Thomas,
withdrawing his hand in some little confusion
as he saw that our hero had no idea of taking
it. ’
“And quite right, too, because, really, we
on ht not to be here. But the mischief is done
an crying over spilt milk will not replace it in
the pitcher a sin. I sha’n’t yield to the tempta-
tion again. .we’ll say nothing about this little
meetin , eh, Mr. Gwyne?” and he leered sug—
gestive y in the face of the other. “ Silence for
silence you know. You keep quiet about our
being here and we’ll be sure not to breathe a
Wor to any one that we ever saw you in such a,
place. And in fact, when you come to consider
the matter you have a deal more at stake than
we have. It might cost us our places in your
father‘s em‘floy, but from the way 1 know he
feels towar you, a discovery might be fatal to
all your future prospects.”

“Oh, yes; it is just about as broad“ as it is
long,” exclaimed the younger brother bluntly.
“You are in more danger than we, so if you
will ‘ust keep quiet, we won’t plush.”

“ either one of van need apprehend danger
from me; I am neither a. spy nor an informer 1”
young Gwyne replied in cold contem t.

The shot struck fairly home, an it was so
unexpected that it made the brothers wince.

Thomas was the first to recover himself, and
he beian to rub his hands softly together.

“ , yes,” he said fawningly, “you are such
a noble young man; you are an honor to your

a. I spoke foolishly, of course, for I might

ave known that there wasn’t the slightest
danger of your betraying the secret. I wouldn’t
ask you to tell a lie for the world, you know,
but as your pa cannot possibly have any sus-
picions about this little frolic, he will be cer-
tain not to ask any questions. And I shall not
for et the service either, and one of these days
I W)" do as much for you.”

“ You need not be alarmed about the matter.
I shall not probably see my father again for
some time as I am gomg to leave the city to-
morrow mornin .”

“Going away! ’ cried both the brothers in a
breath, thorough] astonished by the intelligence
and heartin delig ted at it, though they were
careful not to show it.

“Yes, it is true. ”

“ On your father’s business?" asked the chief
plotter artfully.

“No, sir, upon my own.”

“ You and your respected pa hav’n’t uarreled
I hope?” and the speaker endeavors to look
sym athetic.

“ is would make your heart glad to know
that we. had, I’ll warrant!" our hero exclaimed.

“ Oh, how can you say so?”

“I say so because you are the snake who has
made all the trouble, you sneaking villain!"
Gwyne cried, hotly.

 

CHAPTER V.
rim ALTEBCATION.

“01!, really. Mr Gwyne, on wrong mp!"
Thomas exclaimed. “I woul n’t injure on for
the world, and I should be very sorry in em] to
learn that there had been any fallin out be—
tween your respected pa and yoursel . There
hasn’t been any such thin , I hope.”

“ You don’t hope so, bu quite the contrary 1”
our hero exclaimed, bluntly. “ You know very

'Young Dick Talbot.

5

 

 

well that you have been doing everything in
your power for three or four years to breed
trouble between my father and myself. You
have been a mischief-maker ever since you have
been in the store and now learn from me that you
have succeeded in your dirty work. You will
no longer be put to the trouble of playing the
spy and the informer upon me. I haveleft my
father’s house never to return and I think that;
in a great measure I can thank you for it, you
miserable sneak l"

“ See here, you’re using pretty strong lan-
guage," exclaimed the younger brother, a thick-
set. robust fellow, who rather prided himself on
his physical strength.

" Yes, pretty strong language and altogether
uncalled for,” asserted Thomas, who was also
muscular in build.

Now that their plot had succeeded and the
young man had been driven from home they did
not think it necessary to longer weara mask and
were disposed to show their true colors.

“ You’re a pair of contemptible bounds and
both of you ought to bein jail,” Gwyne re-
torted.

“What’s that you say?" cried the younger
brother advancing in a threatening manner.

“ Oh, don’t mind the young whelp," Thomas
ejaculated.

In our hero’s resent state of mind this e ithet
was more than 6 could bear, for his blo was
alums“. up to the boiling point when be reflected
that. L' these two rascals he was indebted for
the position in which he now found himself, so
without an instant’s hesitation, with the palm of
his open hand he gave Thomas who had ad-
vanced close to him in an insolent and threat-
ening way. a most terrible slap.

The effect was as if the man had been stricken
by a hand of iron rather than by one of flesh
and bone.

He staggered back, the report of the slap re-
sounding like a pistol-shot through the room,
and the spot whereon the blow fell become as
red :is fire: it really looked as if the blood was
going to burst through the skin.

It was the first time that the youth had evar
struck a blow in anger in his life, and he him—
self was surprised at the eflect, for he was not
fully conscious of the enormous power he pos-
sessed.

He was not allowed much time for reflection
though, for when the younger brother rceived
how roughly his relative had been han led. with
a bowl of rage, undeterred by the exhibition
which he had witnessed, he sprung upon young
Gwyne.

It really looked as if he was far more than a
match for the youth, for he wusa far bigger
man in every way: but the way he was re-
ceived made the lockers on open their 6 es.

Gwyne parried the vicious blows w ich his
antagonist showered upon him with the great-
est ease, and then, when his opponent paused to
take breath, exhausted by the severe exertion,
be dealt him a slap in the face with his open
band, exactly like the one he had bestowed
upon his brother, only this one was a trifle
harder, and the bones of the stricken man’s face
seemed to fairly crack under the stroke.

He reeled back with a gasp, and than the
other brother, ap ntly rendered frantic with
the treatment w ich they had received, drew
an ugly-looking knife, and made a dash at
Gwyne.

The two closed in a desperate struggle, which
lasted but a few secon Vs, however, for then
Thomas cried out: '

“ Ohl heaven, I am cut!”

The antagonists separated, the knife was in
Gwyne’s hand, in the struggle he had succeeded
in disarming his opponent, blood crimsoned

‘ the glittering blade, and Thomas. throwing
3P his hands with groans of pain, sunk in the
in)". '

" Oh. I am killed—I am killed !” he cried.
“This boy has murdered me!”

" ‘As Heaven is m iludge, I did not intend to
do it!” Gwyne excamed. “I only tried to
take the knife away from him so that he could
not harm pie’ with gazed

“ It’s 8. ie you i him on u on
intended to flow Men. bel mepto arrestfihe
murderer!” the brother or ed, snatching u
a chair, as if intending to assault the yout
M31135} t' th with tb

u t ores In eroom, eexce ion
of Calpen, who was horror-stricken at thepttra-
.gedy, manifested a disposition toaid Atherford,
Who was their chum. '

“Stand back!” cried Gwyne. almost drivento
madness by the fatal accident, for such in truth
it was, for he had not the least intention of
hurting his assailant with the knife, being only

 

 

desirous of avoiding injury himself, and he
too caught up a chair.

“ Surrender i” cried two or three of the men,
pgoducing weapons and menacing Gwyne with
t em.

The youth was frantic, he did not pause to
reflect, but the instinct of self-preservation told
him to esca e at all hazards.

The nssai ants were advancin toward him in
abody, there was a medium-Sized window on
his right hand looking into the back yard.

He whirled the heavy chair which he had
snatched up around his head, and then threw it
with the force of a battering-ram at the group.

Unpre ared for this novel assault, they went
down he ore it in a heap, but the blocked up
the passage to the door so that e could not
escape that way, but he had noticed the win—
ggewi, and was just in the humor for a desperate

The house was old, and he judged the window-
fixings were not particularly strong, so he
jumped headlong at it, and as he had calculated,
carried away the entire concern.

He and the window sashes went into the back
yard together, and, marvelous to relate, the
youth sustained no material damage, landing
on the ground on all fours with the agility of a
cat. .

Beyond afew scratches, he showed no signs
of the perilous leap.

Rising nimny to his feet, he ran to the near-
est fence and climbed over it into the next
yard, and so be scaled three fences in succession
before he attempted to make his way to the
street. \

He could hear the cries of astonishment of the
fellows, from whom he had so unceremoniousl
taken leave, and they ran down into the ya ,
expecting to behold his mangled body, or at
least to find him badly wounded, and discovered
that he was not there.

From the route he had taken—just by accident,
for in his haste he had not stopped to calculate
upon the matter—he had ot into the yard of a
house that fronted upon ester street.

As it happened, there was a passage straight
through the house to which the ground belonged,
from the yard to the street.

Neither of the two doors belonging to the
entry were locked, and so our hero found no
difficulty whatever in making his way from the
yard to the street, and on his way he was so
fortunate as not to encounter a single soul.

When once in the street, he crossed imme-
diately to the other side of the way, and turn-
ing his back on the Bowery, walked rapidly
away.

As was usual at such an hour, the street was
full of people, and Gwyne did not excite the
least attention.

He knew that he would have at least ten min-
utes’ start of his pursuers, even if they should be
lucky enough to discover over which of the
fences he had clambered, for it was just as
likely that he would go toward Grand street
as in the opposite direction.

At the corner of the first street he turned and
went down a. block until he came to Canal, then,
turning to his right, he in effect retraced his
for mer steps by going direct to the Bowery.

He cro-sed the great artery and on the right
hand side of the way kept on into Chatham
squire. 'Thon through Chatham street until he
Came to the City Hall park.

Through the park he went, at right angles
from the course he had followed, crossed Broad-
we y to one of the side streets, and went on until
he came t0'the river.

He had not taken this route from any particu-
lz-r design, but only from a desire to get as far
away from the scene of the tragedy as ssible.

“ Heaven knows I did not want to an the
man,” he muttered to himself a hundred tim 1
at least as he hastened on his way.

And it was the truth that he spoke. He had
not the least intention of injuring the unfortu-
nate wretch. notwithstanding that through his
artful schemes he had been driven from his

“me. ,

Provoked beyond endurance by the man’s
conduct, he had slapped his face, and most cer-
tainly would have been uite willing to give him
a sound thrashing, but w u the other had drawn
the knife and flung himseif‘upon him with the
fury of a wild beast, his only thou ht had been
to ism-m the man as soon as possigle.

It was through accident. really brought about
by Gwyne’s endeavoring to defend his own life.
that the unfortunate blow had been given, but
the unhappy youth was not satisfied with this
excuse.

“ I am a murderer," he murmured, as he
walked out to the end of one of the piers. “ It

/ /

 

was in self—defense, but I provoked the
I must fly far from here or also pay dearly for
my rashness."

 

CHAPTER VI.
A murmurs CHANCE.

IT was a bright moonlight night, so that all
surroundin objects were plainly visible, :1
beautiful night, for the air was balmy and re-
freshing, and yet our unfortunate hero, as he
leaned against the post at the end of the pier and
gazed down upon the restless we ers. felt strong-
ly tempted to leave the pleasant world and find
rest, forgetfulness and a grave beneath the sur-
face of the heaving tide.

“ I should be safe then," he murmured; “no
cruel hands could drag me to a prison, and from
there, perchance, to a scaffold. Asinglc plunge
and all will be over.”

It was only for a moment, though, that be al~
lowed himself to think of such a thing.

“ No, no,” he murmured, vi ith a shiver of hor—
ror. “That would be a cowardly thing to do;
a fellow in this world ought not to be afraid to
meet his fate, no matter what it is. It is all
very well for idiots and Graven-hearted wretches
lo avoid responsibility by making a hole in the
water, but any one that has the least bit of
pluck ought to be ashamed to even think of
such a thing.

“The world is before me and there isn’t the
slightest reason why one false step should ruin
my whole life. I did not mean to kill the lol-
low; in fact as far as the knife is concerned I
hadn’t the slightest idea of using it. All that
I tried to do was to keep him from cutting me,
and it was on] by accident that he got hurt.

“ Of course am danced sorry that the aflair
took place, and if I had to do it all over again I
would act differently, but I was provoked be—
yond all endurance, and I could not help slap-
ping the fellow’s face; yet at the most I only in-
tended to give him a thrashing if he daredto
resent the ofiense.

“ I might give myself 11 and plead that I
only acted in self-defense, suppose; it ought
not to go hard with' me under the circumstan—
ces, but, somehow, I can’t bear the thoughts of
adopting that course of action. ‘

“ To stand my trial here for murder-in the
city where I was born and brought up—where
people have known me since I was a child-—
oh, no! I can never endure that.

“And to think that it should happen too on
the very night that I left my father’s house——
started out into the world to seek niy fortune.
A nice beginnin I have made of it," and the
youth laughed bitterly tohimself.

“ Well. there’s no turning back now. Old
Father Time always goes forward and never
backward in his flight. Let the dead
bury its dead and let me see what I will 0 in
the future.

“ I must get out of the city; there’s no misv
take about that and the quicker the better. .

“ It will not be safe to wait until morning for
by that,time the authorities will probably be
on the lookout, and the chances are ten to one
that every depot and ferry-house will be guard— v

e .

“ There’ll be a man placed at every avenue ‘
leading from the city with instructions to
seize me if I attempt to pass in all grobability.

“ Atherford’s folks are all wealt and in—
flueutial and they will be sure tor heaven
and earth to capture me.

“ And as for my father in such a case as this
—and under the peculiar circumstances of my
parting with him too—he would be certain Io
think it was his duty to ape the Roman sire.
and give me up to justice with his own hands
if he could possibly get hold of me.

“ No friend have I in the wide world but
myself, and so I must keep up a stout heart,
and not allow fortune to trip up my heels and
con uer me in the first bout.

“ must get out of New York before the
daylight comes or else I am afraid that my
chances for escaping are small indeed.

“It will take time to ut the lice on the
track and I don‘t believo hey wil be able to do
much of anything until mornings”

And now our hero fell into a rown study-—
which was the best way for him to go to evade-
the urgent pursuit which he feltcertainwasmroi
to come. ‘ ,

And while he meditated upon this in
subject a man came strolling down the nor.

At first the youth was inc ined to be ,.
for just now he was inthe condition of the m
described by the poet, who

“In each bush doth fear on weer." ' , ,

But when the man came up and 

/

 

.6

with a hearty “good-evening ” he saw he was
mistaken. '

The stranger was a middle—aged man thick-
set, plainly but comfortably dressed, looking
like a well-to—do mechanic, and from the pe—
culiar nasal twang to his voice the youth judged
he was a New Englander.

“Fine night, hain’t it?” continued the man.

“ Yes, very fine night.”

“ If it hadn’t been for the gol-darnedest bit of
luck that ever happened to a critter I should be
a-looking at the moon now ’way outside of Sun-
dy Hook ’stead of on this ’ere blamed old dock!”
exclaimed the stranger, with conside.able as.
parity.

“Is that so?” asked Gwyne, who, of course,
did not take the slightest interest in the man or
his movements, but he spoke because he saw that
he was expected to say something.

“ Yes, sir-ee, that’s jest as sure as shootin’!
Do you see that old gundalow of a schooner?”
and the man pointed to a vessel lying at anchor
out in the stream.

“ Yes, sir.”

“ She’s a. good seaworthy craft, though she
ain’t han’sum. I’m a judge of sick things,” he
continued. “ I’m something of c sailor myself;
kin take my trick at the wheel like an old salt,
and I calculate, too, when a ship—carpenter is
wanted I won’t be fur ahind the lighter.”

“ You’re quite useful.”

“Oh, yes! I’m a Jack of all trades—master
of none, maybe. That’s the old saying you
know; but it’s a pesky lot of foolishness—like a
heap of other old yarns.

“ Yes, sir-es, if everything had gone right
that ’ere schooner would be jest a-scootin’
through the brinyideep outside of Sandy Hook
somewhere ’rouiid ’bout this time, with every
stretch of canvas spread, a going for the south~
’ard like all pesscsscd." '

“ How is it that she is at anchor here, then 3”

“Burn!” responded the man, senteiitiously.
“ That’s the downright. honest truth, sure n
thunder. Rum—r-u m," and the speaker spelt

'the word on his finger.

“ I do not understand "

_  She’s for Mobile. You know where Mo-bile
IS

“ Mobile."

“ Yes, that’s it—only you don’t hang on to the
last on it, and spit it out right—Mobile. Down
South, you know.”

“ Yes, in Alabama.”

“ Kerrect—Mo bile, Alabama. That is the
wag I used to figure it out when I was a yonnker
an went to the lactic red school-house on the
hill. I’m from Nantucket. Maybe you know

where that is?”

“Oh, yes—a great whaling port.”

“ Right you are: Nantucket is all whale, and
I’m a piece of the blubber what has floated off

to foreign ports,” and then he chuckled hoarse
'- 1y at his own joke.

“That schooner yonder is the Flying Fish,
ands Nantucket man is master on her. He’s
a cousin of mine. and he’s somewhere ’round
this ’tamal big city as drunk as a b’iled owl;
and that’s the reason I lay it to rum, and there’s
no mistake about it, young. man—that’s what’s
the matter. Cargo on board, crew all right,
ship—shape, but no skipper. We ought
130 have t off at twelve .to- ay, to catch the
ebb tohe p us out of the bay, but no skipper
turned up. .

“ We sent out scouts, and all we could learn
of the gol-darned critter was that he was on the
tallest kind of a spree. If we could only catch
and put him on board we’d be all right, whether
he was drunk or scherwbut the craft can’t sail

' without the captain

,"Some of the boys have got wind of where
he is though, and I reckon he’ll be on board by
midnight, and then we’ll be oil.”

A Wild idea came up in Gwyne’s mind. Sup-
poeehe could obtain passage on board of this
craft, it would most efl’cctually bul’fle all pursuit
-,-but could it be arranged?

"It is uite unfortuna’e." he said. “I hope
the men Will succeed in,flnding the captain.- I
envy you the Voyage; it must he very pleasant
sailing to the South."

“ I warrant 9! But I‘m bound for a big
piece beyond 0 bile. At that he town my
jar’pey really begins. I‘m for Californy,
J

“For California!” exclaimed the youth, his
heart beating high.
\ “Yes, since, that’s my platform. There’s a
company going to sail rom Mo-bile ’bout the
first of next month, and I’m going with ’em.
Colonel Stoddard’s part ."
,. “That's just where want to go. Do you
suppose there would be any chance? I‘m out of

\

 

l

Young Dick Talbot.

a situation, and want something to do. I haw-

n’t a great amount of money, only about fifty
dollars—”

“See here, younker, I’ve taken quite a fancy
to you, you’re sick a blamed nice talker—you’ve
got the gift of the gab, you have, and darn me
if I dont help on out. Can you come right
along? ’cos the gap's liable to arrive ever min—
ite, and jest as soon as we get him on card,
we’ll up anchor, and let ’er shiver.”

“ All I’ve at in the world is on me, and, as
I’ve no t‘rien s in the city, I can go immediate—
ly—l’ve no one to bid goodby to.”

“ You kin come right along, then! I’ll see
that it sha’n’t cost you a cent on board the
schooner, and arter we git to Mo-bile I reckon I
kin fix things all right.’

The conversation was interrupted at this
point by the arrival of the men with the cap-
tain.

Twenty minutes later the schooner was on
her way.

 

CHAPTER VII.
A OFF FOR CALIFORNIA.

As our hero surmised the death of Thomas
Atherford created a great excitement.

The wound had been a mortal one and the in--
jured man had died within ten minutes from
the time he had received the hurt.

The Atherfords were well connected and the
influential relatives of the dead man made a
great time about his sudden taking—off.

Young Gwyne was denounced as a cold-
blooded murderer and a large reward offered
for his apprehension.

At the coroner’s inquest, Robert Atherford
and the gamblers who had witnessed the afi'my,
all intimate associates of the dead man testified
that Gwyne had provoked the quarrel, had
struck the first blow and that the dead man had
merely drawn the knife to defend himself from
being brutally beaten, whereupon the other had
wrested it from his hand and stabbed him.

Calpen, of course. told a. different story, but
the weight of the evidence was against him. It
was believed that he was tryin to shield his
friend, and so the jury prompt y returned a
verdict of willful murder.

All the (power of the police was employed to
apprehen the fugitive, but thanks to the for-
tunate chance of our young hero encou- teri’ng
the Nantucket man he was far away before the
search began and the bounding billOWS left no
trace behind by means of which he could be
tracked.

The assage southward was a pleasant one. for
as the nntucket man, whose name, by the way,
was Abner Shingle, remarked the schooner was
likeasinged cat, a good deal better than she
looked.

The captain, Abner’s cousin, Jonathan Shingle,
was a wliole-souled fellow, as good a. seamen as
ever trod a deck, and with only a single weak-
ness, and that was and insane desire to go on a
terrible spree when on shore.

Once in blue water he never troubled liquor
nor liquor him.

It only took him a few hours to sober up. and
then w on introduced to our hero by Abner
gladl welcomed him on board ship.

“ is ’ere younker,” said the Nun'ucket
man, “ has a big idea of j’ining in a Californy
trip. He wants to go out there and pick up
some of those lumps of gold as big as your head,
which they any are lying round loose a-crying
for some one for to come along and pick them
u , and as I’m an awful lonesum man I told
him to come along and I guessed you wouldn’t
be steep on him ’bout the passage-money.”

“ Oh, you’re quite welcome, youngster, and I
don’t keer ’bout any money, that is if you’ve a
mind to give us a. hand now and then if we need
it,” responded the skipper, open-hearted and
generous like a true son of the sea.

To this the youth readily agreed, only too
glad to secure a pasmge under such easy con-
diticns.

“By the way I never thought to ask your
name,” observe the Nantucket man abruptly.
“ Mine is Abner Shingle and this ’ere A No. 1
skipper will howl like all possessed if you call
him Jonathan.” ,

Our hero had never thought about a name,
but now that the question was put, he saw at
once that it would never do to give his own.

Mobile was quite a long dismnce from New
York, it was true, but still there were regular
means of communication between the two
cities, and the youth thought it was more than
likely that the police wOuld send his name and
description all ovor the land. ‘To give his 0Wn
appellation thenwas dangerous, and so he spoke
the first that came up in his mind.

 

“ Talbot, you can call me Talbot,” he re lied.

“That ain’t a bad name to tie to,” bner
remarked.

“ Talbot?” observed the skipper, “ it seems to
me as if I had known a man by that name
onc’t, and it ’pears to me that he was the master
of some craft that sailed from New York.
Mebbe a relation of ourn?” ‘

“No, sir, I haven t any relatives.
alone in the world.”

“ Then he couldn’t have been our father, of
course, though it ’pears to me t at on favor
him a sight; his name was Jack, if don’t we
remember.”

The skipper’s memory was a little hazy in
regard to the man.

“My name is Richard—Dick I’m commonly
called.”

And this was the way in which the name was:
given, destined in after years to be one of the
most- noted in the annals of the Golden State.

“And I ha ven't any father,” he continued.

This was true enough under the circumstances.
considering that he had been driven forth from
the hzme of his childhood and cast upon the
mercy of the world.

On the voyage Dick, as we shall hereafter call
our hero, did his best to make himself useful,
out of pure gratitude for the favor that
had been shown him, and as he was a naturally
handy lad, gifted too with unusual strength and
udroitness, by the time the schooner got into
the Gulf of Mexico he had become quite expert
in the sailor’s trade, and as both the skipper and
the Nantucket man remarked for a “green
hand” he did better than an man they had
ever seen, and the captain furt er said that in
regard to charging the youngster assage-
mone , be guessed that, by rights, is e boot
woul be on the other leg, and ’bout a month's
wages would be due.

The trip had made a. great change in the
youth’s personal a pearance too. He had

ecome bronzed by the sun, filled out consider-
able, and by the time they got into Mobifie
Bay, our hero felt that no one would be able to
recognize in the sun-kissed sailor lad. the pale-
fziced fugitive who had fled from New York
like a thief in the night.

' The passage had been a pleasant one; both
wind and weather had been favorable, and so
the crew had a good deal of time to themselves,
and in order to while it away all sorts of
games had been called into play.

Cards and checkers were t 6 main stand bye,
and with the painted pastebcards Dick easily
succeeded in astonishing all on board.

Both the skipper and the Nantucket man
prided themselves upon being good card-players

rut the youth soon convince them that he was.
their master.

He was such an exceedi 1y skillful player
that if luck ran at all even t 6 other two stood
no chance at all with him.

The games were all for “ fun,” no money be-
ing wagered, but after some time, when the
fact became apparent that there wasn’t a man
on board who was a match at cards for the
youngster, as they all called him, a brilliant idea.
seized upon the Nantucket man, who prided him--
self upon his fertile invention.

“Say! I‘ll tell on what we’ll do!” he ex-
claimed. “ Down ere iDIthis’ere sunny South,
every two—legged human critter plays keerds:
poker is the me they most hump hemselves
u on. and in aliforny too, the feller but can’t
play a good game of poker is no account at all.

ow I’m a pretty hefty poker-player myself.
I use to be a cut for a northern machinery
house that hn a lar e southern trade and I
traveled all over the Sguth and so got posted on
poser.

“ N ow, poker, you know, is different from t 120
usual run of games, and as fares my experier ('0
goes in poker the man who kin cheat the lest ‘
without being found out is the best layer."

“ S‘pose we sail in on poker, we kin use beans
instead of maney and so combine amusement
and instruction.’ ‘

All thought that it wasa good idea and so the
pok~-r playing commenced.

This was a game of which Talbot knew noth»
ing, for poker was not a common game in the
North at the time of which we,write, but he
soon learned “the ropes,” as the skipper re-
marked, and as he was so marvelously skilled-
in handling cards. he was enabled to cheat in
the most bare-faced manner without any one
of the party being able to detect him.

In about two days‘Dick won all the beans
that there were on board. .

Then they were dividedagain and in a slim-Mr
time than before the youth had them again : ll
in his pessession. ’

I am all

 

 

 

 

 

Young Dick Talbot.

7

 

 

“ Dumed if on ain’t a reg’lar blister in hand-
ling keerdsl” bner exclaimed.

“ I never saw anything like it in my life and
I’ve seen some prett big games in this ’ere
South,” the skipper a mitted.

The crew too were of the same opinion. '

The night that the schooner ran into Mobile
buy, it being bright moonlight, Abner and our
hero stood in the fo’castle, watching the distant
lights of the cit . _ _

“Say, Dick, {’ve got it might big ideel’i the
Nantucket man observed abrupt y, after quite a
long silence. _

The youth had observed that he was cogitat—
ing intently and so had refrained from disturb-
ing his thou hts. .

“You are amous for your good ideas, Abner,”
responded Dick, who had a genuine respect for
the ability of the man.

“ You hain’t got but ’bout fifty dollars fur to
carry you to Californy?”

“ That is all.”

“ And I reckon the tariff will be ’bout a hun-
dred and fifty. ”

“ Then I will be a hundred short.”

“ Yes, and to say nothing ’bout clothes and
a good outfit of we’pous which you ought to
have,

" That prospect is not inviting.”

“Oh, yes it is, red-hot. You ought to have
three hundred at the least, for after you git to
San Francisco you will need money to take you
11 country to the diggings. Now I kin help you
hang a little, but I couldn’t 5 re more ’n a
hundred: but I’ll give (in an idea wuth five.
Go for some of these o-bilians at poker, and
clean ’em out 1”

 

CHAPTER VIII.
IN MOBILE.

THE idea seemed to be feasible, and the youth
pondered over it for a few moments.

“Do ou think I am good player enough?”
he asked' at last.

“Sax-tin! There isn’t any discount on that.
I’ve been here afore, and I know all about it.
You’re in a tight place, you know, and you
have got to git out of it some way. It’s no use
to strike a place like San Francisco unless you’ve
got some rocks in your pocket.

“They are sharks out there, ever man-Jack
of them. It’s each cuss for himse f, and Old
Nick for them all. It’s ahard place, from all
accounts; more drinking and gambling and
fighting and sich devilt , than a man could
shake a stick at in a moat of Sundays.

“ It’s the kind of place that a man wants to
go into well-heeled with money, or else he’ll
stand a mighty poor show."

“I an pose it is, from what I have heard,”
observe the youth, thoughtfully.

“ But it’s the place to make money,” his com—
panion added. “Why. they tell me that the
men out there don’t think an more of a dollar
than we folks in the East ere of a five cent
piece.”

“Easily got easily gone you know. I sup-
pose that is a true saying the world over.”

“ I ess if I git my ooks upon a big pile of
gold, will hold on to it like death toadead
nigger l” the Nantucket man remarked.

“But about this poker- laying; do you think
it is exactly ri -ht'§” Dic asked, after a. brief
silence. “ I never played for any money in my
life. It would be ga nblin‘g, you know.”

“Yes, that’s what we’ call it to hum, but
these cusses down in this beni hted re ion don’t
look onto it in that light. Al the ma e critters
down here play from the time that they are
knee-high to a grasshopper. They call it amuse-
ment. Why, I’ve seen a fellcr lose a hull plan.
tation niggers and all, and lau h as if he
thought it was a peek big joke. here’s an old
saying, you know. ‘ hen you’re in Turkey, do
as the turkeys do.’ Now I don’t really think it
would be much of a sin for you to go in and
skin some of these cusses, who think they know
how to play keerds with the man that invented

them.

“ I know that I ain’t a—talking to you jest ex~

actly as a Sunday-school superintendent would
talk.
“ I ain’t a-standing up for the morality of the
thing. It’s pesky poor business, mighty mean,
and no mistake about it, and if I saw any other
way for you to git the money so you could go
ahead as you oughter, I wouldn’t advise it.”

“I do not know of any, and if I do not get
the money by some such means, I do not think
I can raise it.”

“That’s my platform exactly!” Abner ex-
claimed. “In my opinion playing keerds, or
any other kind of game for money, is all—fired

 

poor business, but there are times in this life
as we preambulate through this ’ere vale of
tears, when a man is obliged to do some mean
work, and. as we can’t help it, the best way is
to buckle ri ht at it. I’ll take a part of the sin
on my s'hou ders, for I’ll be eternally consarned
if I don’t take a. hand in the thing myself.”

And so it was arranged between the two that
Abner should hunt u some nice little poker-
party so as to give albot a chance to make
enough money to cover his expenses.

As the Nantucket man shrewdly observed:

“You ain’t so badly ofl’; you were kinder

worryin the other day because you hadn’t any -

trade an had been wasting your time at clerk—
ing, so that if you were in a tight 'place you
wouldn’t be likely to get a job right away, but
I kin tell you that any man that kin handle
keerds as you kin needn’t to worry himself so
long as he remains in a civilized land.

“ Any man that kin turn four jacks, hand—
running, as you kin, and without a soul being
able to see where they come from, is too scien-
tific acuss to be allowed to starve. You’ll git
along all right; don’t you be afeared of that.
You re a genius in that line; I’ve run afoul of
some pesky smart fellows in the keerd busi-
ness, but you kin jest flax the daylights out of
any of them.”

After the schooner was made fast to the dock,
Abner and Dick went ashore to see how the
expedition was getting on which they had come
to ‘oin.

(330101191 Stoddard was a wiry, weather-beaten
man of sixty, who had been one of the pioneers
when the gold excitement had first broken
out.

He had been fortunate, made his “pile” and
returned heme, but after a few months had
wearied of the quiet hum-drum life and had (lee
termined to get up a large expedition and re-
turn to the Pacific slope.

His home being in Mobile, that city had been
selected for the starting-point.

A schooner considerably larger than the Fly-
ing Fish, had been chartered to take the ad-
venturers to Panama, then the programme was
to march across the isthmus—and on the Pacific
shore to take the steamer which ran regularly
from there to San Francisco.

The colonel had got to ether quite acom any;
as he had been successfu in his first cxpegition
it was reasoned that he was a good man to head
another.

The Flying Fish had got in just in time, for all
preparations had been made for the start and
the colonel expected to sail in the morning.

“ Goshl we haven’t any time to lose!” Abner
exclaimed when he learned this fact. “We’ll
have to hunt a poker-party, somewheres.”

The expedition was to consist of twenty—five
men besides the colonel, the schooner being ust
able to find accommodations for that num r
pretty bad accommodations, and mighty well
crowded, as the skipper of the craft observed.

The Nantucket man made .’ h‘e twenty-fourth,
and as it luckily happened, the twenty-fifth
man, a young lawyer rom Montgomery, Ala-
bama, had 01: upon a terrible spree after arriv-
ing in Mob e, from the results of which he was
laid up and the physicians in attendance declar-
ed it would be as much as his life was worth for
him to attempt to leave his bed under a week.

So there was an opening left for our hero and
when he was re osed to the colonel, the veter-
an accepted h.m immediately.

The adventurers were scattered all over the
city, the majorlty of them were Mobile men
and nearly all pretty well-to—do.

Their chief rendezvous was at a French sa—
lonn and restaurant on one of the main streets
of the town known as the Hotel La Belle.

After arrangin with the colonel for Talbot
to join the exped tion, Abner paid his own pas-
snge-mnney and twenty-five dollars on account
of the boy’s ticket, stating that his protege
would hunt up his friends that night; and get
the balance 0 the money from them and pay it
in the morning.

The colonel said this was rfectly satisfied
tory but after they at on side our hero in
amazement asked his riend how he came to
make such a statement.

“I haven’t any friends, you know, in the
town; why I haven’t even an a uaintance ex—
cop; the boys on board of the sc ooner,” Dick
sai .

“Sonny vou are a leettle out in your calcula-
tions,” the Nantucket man replied with a broad
grin. “I guess that if we succeed in striking
the right party some teller is going to advance
you money enough to see you through, and if
that cuss won’t be your friend, I’d like to know
what in thunder a friend is, anyhow l”

 

The youth could not help laughing at this ar—
gument. '

“Oh, you kin laugh but that is good, sound
hose sense!” Abner declared.

The two went strai ht to the Hotel LaBelle
as the colonel had to d them that mostof the
adventurers would likely be found there; the
Nantucket man was Well acquainted with a do-
zen or so of them, and that is how he happened
to come clear from New York to join the arty.

As he had expected, near all of the pi grims
were in the saloon, and the soon made the two
strangers welcome, althoug , as the party were
mainly composed of men who rather prided
themselves upon their blood and birth, they did
not take much notice of the bronzed youth,
whom they regarded as a sort of a sailor chap.

Our hero was not at all offended at this, for he
shrunk from observation, and did his best 10
keep in the background, being afraid that some
one might recognize in him the fugitive who had
fled from New York under cover of the night.

In reality, there wasn’t the least danger of
this, for at the time of which we write it was a
long and tiresome journey fi'om'New York to
Mobile, and the police system was not so well
arranged as it is now, when descriptions of all
persons accused of great crimes, who seek to
avoid arrest by flight, are speedily telegraphed
all over the country.

It was the adventurers’ last night on shore,
and they were celebrating it in a befitting man-
ner; most of the part ‘ were chatting in the sa-
loon, but a select few ad adjourned toa private
apartment in the second story of the hotel.
where, in company with some of ’the bloods of
the town, they were engaged in a friendly
game of poker, playing really more for amuse-
nient than money, for they were on a quarter
ante. ’

This was the party that the Nantucket man
had been looking for, and being acquainted
with pine of them, his comic g was cordially re-
ceived.

“Hello, you slab-side Yankee!” cried one of
the leading lights of the party,a jovial fellow
known as Doc Peyton, whom tradition said had
once studied medicine, hence his name; but, as
he always observed, he had never studied
enough to hurt him. “ You’re just the man vi e
have been looking for! You have made about
sixteen fortunes out of us careless, improvident
Southerners, and here’s a chance for you iolose
some of it like a gentleman. Sit down, you
Connecticut nutmeg, and give us an opportunity
to skin you alive.”

A burst of laughter greeted this sally.

CHAPTER IX.
A LITTLE GAME.

“ I’ll your man !” Abner responded with also-
rity. “But as for skinning me I reckon you
will not get enough hide and taller to‘p‘ay ye
for the trouble of the job, for I’ve jest come
from Colonel Stoddard, having anted up’ my
passage-mom , and I guess it Wouldn’t tea
an elephant’s ck to carry my cash now.”

There was rnother general laugh at this and
Peyton responded :‘ '»

“Ab, that’s the way you always talk! you
would swear you hadn’t any money if you car-
ried the United States bank in your pocket.
But sit down and take a hand, own if you
haven’t lgot over ten dollars to lose. This is the
last nig t we will s end upon shore for some
time, you know.” eyton was one of the ad-
venturers; in fact, after the colonel he was the
leading man in gettinglup the cxpedition.

“And, by the by,” e continued locking in—
quiringlv at Talbot who was still in his sailor
suit, which he had purchased from one of the
crew of the schooner, being afraid to come
ashore in his own clothes for fear a description
of him might have been sent to the city, and‘the
sailor rig so changed his appearance that he felt

retty certain he would not he recognized even
if the police had been warned to be on the look:
out for him, “is this youngster going to try his
luck in the golden land!” ,

"Yes, this is a. particular friend of mine, en.

tltmen;gentlemen, allow me to introduce r-
Richard Talbot to you,” Abner said. “ Mr..Tal-
hot happened to run across me in New York
jest as l was on the point of sailing. and made .
up his mind to try for gold. Mr. Talbot has
been playing sailor to amuse himself on the
voyage, and as We were in a hurry to find 0 t
how things were in the city, we came” ash e
the moment the vessel made fast, and he never
swapped to change his clothes.” 1' "4  ‘
r his explanation Was readily believed;‘ for
there was something in Talbot’s manner ‘wli. h
plainly told that he was far more than a‘co -
mon sailor.

 

 

  

 

Young Dick Talbot.

 

All the gentlemen bowed in response to the
introduction.

“ Will you try a hand in the game, Mr. Tal-
bot?” Peyton asked. “ I have succeeded in get-
ting ossession of about all the loose change
that t ese gentlemen have to spare, and I am
hun ry for more victims.”

“ am afraid that like my friend here”—and
he placed his hand on the shoulder of the Nan-
tucket man, “ I haven't much money that I can
afford to lose.”

“ Oh, we’ll make it eas for you,” the other
replied. “ The ante is on y a quarter and the
limit is fixed at twenty—five dollars; we are not
really gambling, you know, just playing for
amusement—t0 pass the time away, not for
money, only enough to make the game inter-

estiiifi."

“ ell, Dick, I guess we might as well take a

hand in the fun, seeing that it will be the last

chance we will have to play keerds on terra-
flrma for some time.”

“ I’m agreeable,” responded our hero.

So the two joined the party; room was made
for them at the table, two of the gentlemen relin-
quished their seats, “ regularly cleaned out, ” as
one of them expressed it.

“ I give you fair warning, boys,” observed
Peyton in his jovial way, “that I’m having a.
magnificent run of luck tonight, and I’m bluff-
lng worse than a Georgia major.”

“ We’ll do our best to hold our own ag’in’
you,” the Yankee remarked.

Then the game proceeded.

For three or four hands our hero played very
cautiously, so as to get an idea how the game
was running before he ventured his money.

The skill that the youth possessed with cards
was really wonderful.

it came natural to him, and he himself would
have been puzzled to account for the calcula-
tions which he invariably made with lightning
like rapidity.

A art from his manual skill in handling the
car s—and no juggler who depended upon
tricks with cards to gain his bread could do
better with them than our heroo—he had a wonv
dei'ful facult for calculating upon the instant
the chances o the game.

He had carefully watched the play, and by
the time the first half-hour was reached he had
come to the conclusion that the game was a per—
fectly fair one.

In this he was correct, for all the players
were gentlemen, not one of them particularly
expert with cards, no gambler among them,
and Peyton owed his success chiefly to the fact
that be was a better player than the rest, being
more acquainted wit the value of hands; and
then, too, he was not afraid to “ bluff ” the rest
once in a while when the humor seized him, and
, so onsaveral occasions succeeded in capturing

the “pot” by sheer audacity.
‘ In such a company as this our hero disdained
to avail himself of his skill in manipulating the
pasteboards; he could easily, when it came his
urn to deal. have arranged it so that he would
know exactly what cards went into the hands
of the different players, so expert was he at this
sort of thing, and if he had been laying with
men eager to avail themselves oflanv and all
devices to win, he would not have hesitated for
a moment to pit his, skill against theirs; but on
the present occasion, much as he wanted money,
he would have deemed it nothing more than
robbery to take an unfair advantage of the gen-
tlemen with whom he was playing.

, So all he had to depend upon was his superior
skill as a player.

As the game progressed, and Abner saw that
his protege was not winning lar ely, he began
,to get uneasy. He had been an er the impres-
sion the youth would rake in the money from
the start; but beluga pretty fair pla er him-
self, he came to the conclusion that uck had
not been with the youth.

When the opportunity came though, our hero
was quick to improve it.

Y He had kept a close watch upon Peyton, and
beings. shrewd reader of the human face di—
vine, fancied he could detect by the coun-
tenance of the gentleman whether he really had
anything in his hand worth betting upon, or
was mere] “ blufl'lu ," and so when he caught
some 3 cards he etermined to test whether
there was an truth in his belief.

Peyton be quite heavily. and the rest all
“ passed ” except Talbot. He felt sure from
the expression upon the young lawyer’s face
that he was only “binding,” so “went for”
the ntlemau.

the limit was reached by Peyton, our
hero prohiptly “saw” him, and called for a
fiaw of bands.

\

 

As be anticipated, Peyton had only a pair of
lives, while the youth displayed three tens.

The lawyer was nettled. t was the first time
he had been beaten on a bluff, and he didn’t like
it, and the fact too that his successful opponent
was only a lad added to his chagrin.

“ Well, oung man, you succeeded in getting
the best 0 me that time,,but I’ll get even with
you,” he remarked.

A few more hands were played without any-
thing especial occurring, and then Peyton hav—
ing the luck to get three sevens, came to the
conclusion that they were good enough to cap-
ture the pile.

Some of the others were disposed to contest
this, and so there was some lively betting until
the limit was reached, and then, when there
was a show of hands, the youth again was for-
tunate enough to take the money, having four
three-spots.

Peyton was more annoyed this time than be-
fore, and he plainly showed it.

“ By Jovo, old fellow!” he exclaimed, address-
ing Abner, “I invited you and your friend to
sit down with the idea of skinning you within
an inch of our life, but from the way things
are going it really looks as if, instead of per-
forming the operation, 1 shall be the victim."

“ It’s nothing when on get used to it, as the
cook said to the eely when it remonstrated
against being prepared for the fryingpun,” the
Nantucket mun responded, with one of his
comical grins.

His protege was now a little over fifty dollars
ahead, and the prospect seemed good for the
success of his plan.

Six or eight more hands were played, but only
a few dollars were risked on any of them, and
Peyton succeeded in winning all the pots but
one, which fell to Abner's share.

“My luck is beginning to return, I believe,”
he remarked, as be dealt the cards, it being his
turn to deal, and old player as he was, he could
not repress a twinkle of the eyes as he looked at
his hand.

He had four kings and a ten-spot.

Contrary to his usual custom he was rather
shy about betting, for he wished to lure the
rest up to the limit, wanting to catch as much
money in the pot as he could, for with his al«
most mvinmble hand—there, being but one bet-
ter in the pack—he felt sure of victory.

But, to his disgust, all went out but the youth.

Talbot promptly responded to every bet until
the limit was reached.

There were about sixty dollars in the pot.

“ I say, youngster, I can clean you out this
time," Peyton exclaimed. “What do you s y
to betting an even hundred outside of the limit?"

“ I’ll do it if you’ll allow me to throw out one
card and take t at queen there,” Talbot replied,
pointing to a. queen that had been accidentally
“ faced.”

Peyton guessed by this that queens were the
best his opponent had, and so he consented.

Then the mono was put 11 .

Peyton slappc down his our kings with an
air of triumph, but imagine his disgust, and the
surprise of all the rest, when the youth uietly
laid four aces and the queen upon the tab 9.

“ I guess the pot is mine,” he said.

CHAPTER X.
IN SAN FRANCISCO.

PEYTON leaned back in his chair, folded his
arms in his is and stared at the cards for a mo-
ment, while tie rest looked on, amazed at the
unexpected result. ,

About the most astonished man of the lot was
Abner. He had fairly trembled in his shoes
when his protein so boldly accepted the banter
of the young awyer, for he was afraid that
Peyton, having been caught twice on a bluff,
had learned wisdom and would not bet so large-
ly if he hadn‘t felt sure that his hand could not
be beaten.

Peyton was completely astonished. He had
offered to bet the hundred dollars outside of the
limit, with the idea his opponent would bescared
by the offer into the belief that he held an in~
vmcible hand. and when the youth accepted the
bet with the proviso that the faced queen be
given to him, the lawyer was certain that
queens were the best he had, and, as kings beat
queens, be jum d at the chance.

“ Well. may be hanged if thisian’t a regular
surprise!" Peyton exclaimed at last.

“The money is fairly mine, I believe,” the
youth remarked in his quiet way.

“ 0h, es, there isn't any question about that.
I dealt t e cards myself, so there isn’t the shadow
of a doubt that everything was fair and above

rd; but I say. what in the deuce did You
want the queen for when you had four aces?"

 

 

The youth laughed, and in fact there was a
broad rin upon the face of every one at the
table, or all understood now about the trap into
which Peyton had fallen.

“ Oh, just a fancy,” Talbot replied.

“ Well, young man, it is a good thing for me
that you didn‘t press me to bet more money, for
if you had, you could hays broke me if I owned
the whole State, for I would have been willing
to bet it all upon my hand, particularly after
you wan ted the queen. But rake in the money;
it’s yours, sir, and fairly won, but I don’t see
what on earth you want to go to California for.
A fellow that can play cards as well as you can
I;ka all the money he wants right here in Mo-

1 e.

“ I would prefer to make money some other
Way,” our hero replied. “This is the first time
that I ever played cards for money in my Mo,
and I wouldn’t have pin) ed to-night only I‘m
rather short of cash, and I really need money to
buy supplies for the nip.”

“You ll make a fi rtune in California without
bothering yourself tcdig gold, if you choose to
devote yourself to card playing, and any timo
you want a. hacker who is willing to go liS lot-
tom dollar on your ability to clean out a raft of
poker—players, just call on me,” the young lav.-
yer remarked.

Then he looked at his watch, saw that it was
after midnight, and suggested that the party
had better adjourn.

This idea met with the approbation of the
rest, and the Company dispersed.

Abner and Talbot returned to the schooner
and great was the rejoicing among the crew
when they heard the story of the youth’s ad-
Venture.

During the vovage all on board of the Flying
Fish had learned to like the youth and there
wasn’t one of them that did not wish him all
possible success.

The two slept that night aboard the schooner
and early in the morning they visxted Colonel
Stoddard, Talbot paid the rest of his passage
money, and then, still accompanied by his frien l
and aided by his advice, went to the stores and
purchased the articles that the Nantucket man
regarded as being necessary for the trip.

At noon the expedition sailed.

Long and tiresome was the journey, articu-
larly the march over the isthmus of anama,
which cost some valuable lives, but both our
hero and the tough Yankee were fortunate
enough to escape finding a lonely grave in that
unknown land, so dangerous with its body-do-
stroying fevers to the unacclimated stranger.

No event worthy of particular mention oc-
curred on the journey, although everything
was strange and odd to the young New Yorker.

In due time the steamer which conveyed the
adventurers u the Pacific coast sailed through
the “Golden ate,” the farfamed entrance to
the harbor of San Francisco, and came to
anchor.

The wonderful city, which, like the magic
structures told of In the Eastern tales, had
sprung up almost in a single night, was then
throbbing in the Very hight of the gold fever,
and the two friends when they came ashore
found themselves in the midst of a scene of great
excitement. t .

There were very few substantial buildings in
the town, nearly all the houses being composed
of rough, unplaned hoards, put together in the
most careless fashion, and at least one third of
the inhabitants of the place were living in
tents.

Such a wild, demoralizing city the world had
never seen before. . ‘

Drinking and gambling went on openly in the
face of everybody.

Aimed: every Saloon in the town had a gaming
room attached to it, but what most astonished
the new-(30um was that every one seemed to
have plenty of money to lose, for these dens of
sin wereorowded to repletion all the time.

Men really waited their turns at the bars to
get a drink, and at the tables to be allowed a.
chance to play, exactly the same as at a post—
ofllve or barber shop. .

Colonel Stoddard’s bargain with the adven-
turers was merely to convey them to San Fran-
cisco: there his responsibility ended and each
man was free to go whenI he liked.

The colonel himself and ten of his particular
friends were bound for a mining-camp on the
head-waters of the Marimsa river, known as
Frenchman’s Flat, where Stoddard had made a
big strike some time before on the occasion of
his first visit to the Pacific coast. and after con-
siderable deliberation Abner and our hero
determined to accompany the colonel as he
assured them the diggings were rich, and in fact

 

w.
3
.
M

 

Young Dick Talbot.

. . ...._.. my ........__....s

,9

l

 

 

declared it was his belief there was no better
point in California to make money.

The steamer had arrived at quite an early
hour in the morning, and the colonel, who had
considerable business to attend to in the city,
announced that he would not be able to get
away until the next day, so that all of his party
wou d have ample time to see the sights of the
gold metropolis.

The colonel recommended all of the party to

ut up at a big boarding tent kept by a friend
f his, where meals and a bed could be pro-
cured for fifty cents apiece.

Having made arrangements at this place, the
Nantucket man and our hero sallied out to see
the town.

At the time of which we write, the gold ex-
citement was at its hight, and the city was
crowded with as motley a population as ever
the sun shone upon.

The majority of the men sported huge beards,
were neither coats nor vests, and stalked
through the streets with pistols and knives
belted openly to their sides.

It was not a place to delight the heart of a
quiet man, for there were a dozen rows a day,
to say nothing of the night, and the antagonists
were just as ready to use their weapons as their
ton ues and fists.

“ tell you what it is, Dick,” the Yankee re-
marked, after they had strolled around for a
couple of hours and surveyed the busy, bustling
town, “ this here is a place where a man can t
aflord to let his tongue wag jest as it pleases,
unless he’s chain-lightning on the fight. And a
teller to hold his own in this cussed crowd ought
to be able to handle his we’pons jist as well as
his fists, for I notice these chaps are mighty apt
to go for their toad-stickers and their shootin’-
irons the minite they get to jawing one an-
other."

“Yes, it seems to me that it is one of the
kind of places where a man makes money by
minding his own business,” Talbot observed.

" That’s so, by gosh I” Abner declared. “It’s
the hardest lace I ever struck, or beam tell
on, either. by, some of these big fellersswag-
gering around 00k as if they was jest boiling
over for a fight!”

“ You can t always tell from a. man’s appear—
ance whether he means business or not,” the
youth replied. “ The loudest talkers are gen-
erally the poorest fighters; and I guess that
some of those fierce—looking follows, with their
big beards, hats cooked over their eyes, weap-
ons at their side, and a swagger as much as to
say, I’m the boss of the crowd, would be apt to
come down in their pretension if they happened
to run across a man whom they saw wasn’t
afraid of them.”

“Mebbe they would—mebbe so,” observed
the Yankee, with a wise shake of the head, “ I
have see’ jest sich things afore. I allers used to
notice. when I wasaboy, you couldn’t tell ‘bout
a. chicken’s fighting capabilities by the loudness
of his crew.”

“I fancy that men are 1pretty much like
chickens in that respect. be men who talk
the loudest are generally the ones who do the
least. rAnd if you notice, you will see that
these swaggering fellows don’t seem to get into
any trouble."

“ That’s so, sure as you’re born! but I kinder
guessedfihe rest were afraid of 'em and gi’n

em a Wide berth. Didn’t you hear that cuss a
while ago, a-s uting ’bout he was a red-bot
rooster from eather river,and how it allers
made him sick if he didn’t have a man fur
breakfast at least once a week?”

“ Oh, yes, I heard him, but I came to the con-
clusion that he was only talking for the pleasure
of hearin his own beautiful voice and if any
one shoul want to take him up, he'd be willing
'0 creep out of the smallest kind of a hole to
avoid a quarrel, if he thought the other man
reall meant business.”

“ ebbe you're ri ht ’bout it: there’s no tell-
ing, you know, an l you try it. and between
you and me and the bed- at, I ain’t so darned
curious ’bout it as to riakhgg my precious person
for to find out.” __

CHAPTER XI,
an INTEBLOPER.

BY this time it was high noon, and as the two
were some distance, from the boardin tent
where they had taken breakfast. the ankee,
who was a hungry sort of mortal, acted that
it would be a idea to step into nearest
restaurant get some dinner.

Talbot had no objection to this. and so the
pair entered the am eating-saloon they came
acres.

 

It was rather a mean, low place, as they die-
coVered after they had entered; still there were
quite a number of patrons within, and they
seemed to be dispatching the food with as muc
enjoyment as though they were in a palace.

“ ’Tain’t much like the Astor House, is it?”
the Nantucket man observed to his companion
after they had entered and taken a look around.

“ No, not much.”

“Mebbe the fodder’s good, though. I guess in
this here country you can’t tell much ‘bout an y-
thing by the way they shew up. Like a singed
cat, the thin may be a good deal better than it
looks. Say, ick, will you have a glass of beer
to give you an appetite for your dinner?”

“ I had just as soon havea glass of water,” the
youth responded, being extremely temperate in
all his habits.

“ Try a glass of soda then, but for goodness’
sake don’t say anything ’bout a glass of water
when there is any such gang as this ’rouud.
The ’11 think we’re greenhorns in a minite.”

“ don’t care what they think; what business
is it of theirs what we drink?"

“ None at all, of course, but this is such a
pesky sort of a town that I think it is best not to
attract any more attention than one can help,"
the Yankee replied, in his cautious way.

“ Possibly you are ri htzyou have seen a great
deal more of life than , so on ought to know
about it. I’ll take a glass 0 beer then, so as not
to be out of the fashion.”

The two advanced to the bar, along which a
string of customers were grouped, so many as to
keep two bar-keepers buSily employed, and the
N antucket man ordered the liquid refreshment.

“ Mighty strange sort of a country this is
anyhow,” he said in a low tone to his companion,
so that the rest could not overhear him. “Jest

on look and see what the crowd are drinking
brandy champagne, whisky, gin, beer, and I
notice they all cost the same, twenty-five cents
a glass. I tell you what it is, Dick, if I had
known that I would have gone in for wine, for
it ain’t often that you get a chance to buy
champagne by the lass.”

This was the trut ; at that time in San Fran-
cisco, it made no difference what you called for
in the shape of drink, the price was the same;
“ two bits ” covered the expense.

The beer was placed before the two and Ab-
ner, who was an observant fellow, remarked to
his companion that the man would sell twice as
much beer if he only filled his glasses.

Then the two lifted their glasses and the Yan-
kee winked his left eye and observed: “Well,
here’s looking at you!" v ’

But our here was not destined to enjoy that
glass of beer, for just as he nodded in return of
the Nantucket man’s salutation, a huge, dirty
hand came over his shoulder and snatched the
glass without the least bit of ceremony.

Turning quickly, the youth found himself
con fronted by a burly, rufflanly-looking fellow
with a bloated face, the lower part of which
was covered with a huge heard of tawn hue,
no two hairs of which seemed to grow in the
same direction.

The fellow was roughly dressed huge boots,
reaching nearly to his thigh , breeches so stained
that it would have puzzler a conjurer to have
guessed the original color: a flannel shirt which
had once been red, but now was a dirty brown,
and a high-crowned slouched hat, very much
the worse for wear com leted the attire.

In the belt which gi . ed in his brawny waist,
were two extra large revolvers and a hunting-
knit'e of extraordinary size.

He opened his huge mouth and a grin over-
spread his u ly face as he beheld the astonished
expression upon the features of the youth, who
had been taken completely by surprise.

"Ho, ho, ho!” roared the giant in a hoarse
voice which plainly showed its owner had been
indulging in liquor sn excessively that his lungs
had been damaged," ’pears to me that this hyer
leetle joke 0’ mine has completely npsot this hyer
strange baby from the Eastward!’ and then he
" haw-hawed” again as if he had pPrpetmted
one of the best jests that mortal man ever
conceived.

The youth had assumed his citizen's suit upon
landing, and of course looked neat and genteel,
compared to the majority of the men who filled
the streets of San Francisco.

Talbct’s blond was heated almost to the boil-
ing pomt by this occurrence, though he was
but a boy. and apparently no match for, the
hull who had interfered with him. '

T e Nantucket man was thoroughly alarmed
at this untoward event. and although no cow-
ard and enerally able to take his own part
wherever 6 might chance to go, yet he was not

anxious to have any’trouble with such an ugly-,

i

 

looking brute as the new-comer, so his first im-
pulse was to advise his protein not to pay any
attention to the man, but Ta bot was too quick
for him.

“ What do you mean by taking my glass out
of my hand in that way?" he demanded, ap-

arently perfectly cool, although in reality the
gory of a demon was raging within his veins.

“W’ot did I do it for? haw! haw!" exclaimed
the intruder, “ why jest for grerns, you know;
jest for to keep you from making a beast of
yourself. Don’t you know that a leetle chap
like 1you ought never for to bother with strong
drin '2' It Will muddle yer head up, make you
sic: at the stommick and play the old mischief
with you ginerally. Do you s’pose I‘m the kind
0’ man for to stand by and see a babe like you
a-histing in p’ison? No, sir-e9, hossfly, Bob! I
couldn’t do it. It goes‘ng'in’ my rain, every
time! Now, I’m an old soaker. ’ll put the
nasty stuff out of the way and then you kin
smell of my breath afterward; it will do you
a heap-sight more good.”

“ You’re an impudent scoundrel, and you had
better put that glass down or it will be the
worse for you,” replied our hero, his voice clear
and calm and the utterance so distinct that he
was heard azl over the room.

“ Haw, haw, haw!" roared the bully, his sense
of humor tickled by the demand and the im-
plied threat. “ Why, you’re a real cunnin’ leetle
cuss, ain’t ye! right smart spunky. too. We al,
kick me to death by crip led mules if 1 ain’t
glad I run acrosa you. ’ve been looking for
some fun for ever so long, and now I reckon I’ll
have a show; but you n.ustn’t git sarcy, you
know, for I’m jest the kind of a mule—skinner
for to spank leetle boyees with too much gab.”

“ Put that glass down, you big loafer!" cried
the youth, to the utter astonishment of every-
body in the room.

“ Eh. what—how?“ cried ‘he man. “ Say,
you don’t go for to dare for to speak that way
to me. do you?”

“Yes, to you, you big, skulking brute; put
down that gla5s and apologize for having dared.
to insult me by taking it out of my hand with
your dirty paw !” replied Talbot, resolutely.

“ Dog-gone me, if this don’t beat anything I
ever heern tell on!" exclaimed the man, so
utterly astonished b the bold stand taken by
the youth that for t e moment he neglected‘to
resent it.

The Yankee thought he saw an opportunity,
to patch up a peace and so was quick to improve

1 .

“Oh, don’t let us have any7 words 'bout the
matter,” he said. " We’re a l friends here, all
gentlemen, and I guess there ain’t any need of
our having a fuss. We’ll have a quiet drink
all round and say no more ’bout the matter.”

By the time this speech was uttered the"
stranger had in a measure recovered from his
amazement and he turned fiercely upon the Nan-
tucket man.

“Who in thunder sed anhythin to onr’he
roared. “Are you a-ruomng th s sh ndig or
am I? I want you to understand that I’m the '
kind of man w’ot doesn‘t allow anybody to stick
their spoon in my soup! Jest you b‘ar in mind
that I'm the cuss w’ot’s frying these hyer fish
and you kin bet your bottom dollar they’ll be
done to a turn aforc I git through wich’em
too." And rasping the handle of one of his re-
volwrs he a vance uponeA hner with so much
war in his manner that the Nantucket man in—
voluntarily retreated a couple of steps;th the
youth did not more an inch. Y '

Satisfied with the impression he had produced.
the bully threw back his head and glared around
him for a moment.

“ I’m a wicked man, I am!” he declared.
“I’m a pike from Missourii and as rough and
tough as they make 'em. reckon that some
of you folks in this hyer burg must have neared
of me afore; my handle is Jim Laclede and once
in a while some of my pals call me St. Louis
Jim, and I reckon that. name fits me as well as
though I Was burn with it. Now I tell you
folks I’m just as gentle as a bob-tailed lamb,
when I ain’t riled. but when you get me roused,
I’m like the Big Muddy, a tough cues to
handle.“ - i ,

“You’re a ton h old blow-hard!" cried the
youth in a tone 0 supreme contempt. ’

A hum of astonishment arose on the air at

this rash declaration and ihe bystanders looked

at the youth and shook their heads; in fact quite
a number of them c-ime, to the conclusion that
the excitement ‘bad turned his head. for the, I
did not think it possible he would dare to 
front the giant if in possession of his senses.

The rough fellow was so enraged bytho in-
sulting expression that he let go of the revolver

 

 

 

u
E

 

’10

Young Dick Talbot.

 

he had gasped and shook both of his fists in the
face of e youth.

“ W’ot’s that you sad?” he fairly howled.
“ Spit it out ag‘in if you dar’l”

 

CHAPTER XII.
A LIVELY mscussmu.

“I SAID you were a tough old blow-hard and
so you are l” Talbot exclaimed standing up to
the giant like a man, and with a look in his
eyes that fairly astonished the Yankee, for the
youth had always been so quiet that the Nan—
tucket man never suspected there was anything
of the fighter about him.

“ Why, you ’tarnel little fool, do you know I’ve
killed men for much less than this hyer?” the
bully growled. /

“ You will not kill me!” cried Talbot.

“I would in a minite if you was any kind of
a match for me! Oh, I wish you was a teller
somewhar ’round my size! wouldn‘t I hammer
yer?" and the ruflian swung his brawny fists
around like windmills.

“No, you wouldn’t hammer me, and if I was
within ten pounds of your weight you wouldn’t
dareto open your head to me. You are only
trying to play smart because you think 1am
but a boy and you can im ose upon me, but 1
am not afraid of you, you ig, overgrown hog.
You just put that beer down and apologize or it
will be the worse for you.”

The bully still retained the loss of beer in his
hand, and as the barkeeper, ike all his tribe,
had been particular to give more foam than
liquor, it had not suffered materially from his
eccentric movements.

” ’Pologizel oh, yes, of course, that is exactly
What I’m going to do-w’ot I’m jest dying to do,
and you km bet all your rocks on it, too !’ h v ex-
claimed, sarcastically. “ Yes, sir-ee, bass fly,
bumble-heel When you want a inst-class ’polo-
gy, St. Louis Jim is jest the feller you want for
to call' upon.

“ ’Pologies cut and dried and ke t to order.
If you don’t see what you want ax or it.

“ Inside of two wags of a mule’s tall, I’ll show
you w‘ot kind of a ’ 910 y I makel You’re sich
a pesky leetle cuss t at scorn to use my we’pons
on you, so I’ll jest wet my whistle with this
hyer drink; then I’ll wring your nose until you
beg my pardon and axes forgiveness for being
so sarc . Here’s your jolly good health, gen’le-
men l”

. But as the giant raised the glass toward his
lips, with a quick, upward motion of his hand
Talbot hit the glass on the bottom with the back
of it and the concussion sent the contents of the
fihfis in a shower of spray into the face of the

u .

Hz had succeeded in getting the beer, but not
in the we he had antici ated.

The act on was so sud on that St. Louis Jim
,was taken completely by surprise, and as his
_ big mouth was open n readiness for the beer,
some of the fluid went into the capacious orifice,
and lod g in the windpipe, brought on a vio-

lent’fit o coughing.

As soon as he reoovored from this, with a
fearful oath he flung the empty glass at the
head of the youth, but Talbot, with wonderful
quickness, not only dodged the missile, but with
his strong right hand caught the rutflan by his
extremely prominent nose and gave it such a.
twist as to force from the lips of he man a roar
of mingled rs and pain;

)‘Ow, ow!’ howled the bully, writhing in
Talbot’a iron-like grasg, bent almost double,
while his huge arms t rushed the air, and he

\ danced u and down, first on one foot and then

on the ot er like a turke on a hot plate.
The exhibition only las d for a moment, but
the night was so ludicrous that it made the spec-

- tutors roar with Ian liter.

Then the youth re eased his grip and the big
fellow went sprawling over on his back,.and
a in the bystanders laughed.

at when the bully rose to his feet and glared
around the laughter sudden] y ceased. Notwith-
standing the sorry exhibition which the bold
youth had made of him, there wasn’t one in the

saloon who was anxious to incur his wrath.

it was really a mystery to them that the
youth‘should have succeeded in getting the best
of the radian, but now that be had recovered
from the effects of the surprise, they feared it
[would go hard with him. '

“ Run, you fool I” ejaculated one of thellookers-
on, who happened to be near the boy, in a
hoarse whisper in his ear “run. while thar’s a
chance for to give leg-bai . This big feller will
eat you all u . .

“‘Oh 'no, 0 will not,” the'youth answered,
“and fl he attempts retry the thing on, I guess

 

he'll find I’m about as tough it morsel as he ever
got hold of since he was weaned.”

Talbot had spoken freely, and his words
reached the ears of the other.

With a fiendish scowl be cast his evil—looking
eyes upon the boy.

“You have been having a regular picnic at
my expense, I reckon,” he growled, “but you
kin bet all your pile now that the fun is over,
and business is oing to begin. You‘re mighty
pert with your ands for a youngster, but arter

git through with you, I reckon you‘ll think
twice the next time you take it inter your
noddle for to try liberties with the nose of
such a gentleman as 1 am!” And then be com-
menced to roll up the eaves of his dirty shirt
in a manner that plainly betokened business.

The Yankee became dreadfully alarmed.
During his acquaintance with our hero he had
never witnessed any display of skill in the box—
ing line on his part, and of course had no idea
that he was at all accomplished in that line.

He knew that the youth was wonderfully
strong and extremely quick, and that on board
the schooner as a sailor he had easily held his
own with men almost double hisweight, well-
seasoned salts, with muscles fully developed and
toughened by years of toil.

But ,for all that he thought Talbot stood no
chance at all against the burl ruifizm.

“See here!” he vxclaime , “this ain’t the
fair thing at all! Jest look at the difl'erence
atwixt you two! Why, you're almost big
enough to eat this ’ere boy.”

“And I reckon I could do it too, might-y
easy, if he was only well buttered and salted!"
the bully replied, with a ferocious grin. “But
thar ain‘t any use for you nor nobody else to
stick your spoon in this soup. This hyer leetle
cuss has insulted me in the worst way, and I’m
no man if I don’t make him sweat for itl Oh,
I tell you, I’m an ugly buck when I get a-golng!
The wust galoot you kin scare up from hyer to
nowhare.”

“ Gents, ,I appeal to you!" Abner cried. “ Is
this hyer the square thing? Jest look at the
difference between the two!” and he addressed
the crowd, who were watching the scene with
great interest. “ This man hain’t got no cause
to complain. He was the first to give offense;
if he hadn’t taken the glass out of my friend’s
hand there wouldn’t have been any trouble."

“ That was only a jokel” exclaimed St. Louis
Jim, and he figured around at the bystanders as
much as toas , “Which one of you is anxious
to take up this quarrel on behalf of the boy 2"

But there wasn’t a manin the crow (1 who was
desirous of having a hand in the affair.

The savage appearance of the burly ruflian
and the weapons he so openly dis layed were
quite enough to make all in the sa oon anxious
not to provoke his anger, and there wasn’t a
man in the lace who did not consider the boy
a little crac ed in the upper story for daring to
brave the wrath of such a redoubtable foeman.

“ Yes, sir-co, that was only a joke,” repeated
the rufllan, “and durn a cuss say I that ain’t

ot the rit to take a leetle joke like that out

yer in alifornyl Why I’ve had it layed on
me a hundred times and Inever grow ed a mite
’bout it either. ,

“ I didn’t go for to throw the liquor in the
feller’s face, nor to pull his nose, and I sw’ar
my horn feels as it it had been jammed in the
crack. of a door for sure,” and with his hu left
paw he caressed the injured member in a nder
manner, as he s oke.

“ Are you a c then that you allow men to
walk over on?” albot demanded. “ Because
if you are am not, and although I may not
be as big as a house, yet I am large enough to
resent such an insult every time. I ask no
odds from anybody and though not a iant, yet
I’m not afraid of holding my own, w erever I
may 0.”

‘ on are the loudest crowing rooster that I
ever run across," the other observed. “You’re
sich a sarcy leetle cuss that you really make
me smile. I hate like thunder to have to warm
you, but it’s a duty I owe to the country for if
the conceitisn’t taken out of you the hull urned
coast wouldn’t be big enough to hold you.”

“ Take care that you don’t make a mistake in
your reckoning!” t e youth exclaimed, facing
his 0 ponent in the most undaunted manner.

“ am me if I don’t hate to thrash you, you
cussed leetle bantam!” the bully exclaimed.
“ I’ll tell you what I will do. You’re in a
’tarnel mess hyer, but seeing as how you air a
stranger and not used to our ways I will‘give
You a chance to get out of this hyer scrape.
You see I’m a generous sort of a rooster if you
comb my hair the right way. I «

“Jest you go down on your marrow-bones

 

#

and make me an humble ’pology, say you’re
sorry for throwmg the beer in my face,” and
that you feel meaner’n thunder, ’cos you pulled
my bugle, then stand treat for the hull gang in
the saloon and I’ll call the matter squar’."

The standing treat idea suited the bystanders
exactly, and nearly all nodded as much as to
say that they approved of this mode of settling
the uarrel.

“ et down on my knees and apologize?”

“ That’s the peppergram l”

“ And if I don’t?”

“ I’ll jest welt you until you’re sick or sorel”

“ Sail in!” and Talbot put up his hands in an
extremely scientific manner.

 

CHAPTER XIII.
SCIENCE AGAINST BRUTE mam

ST. LOUIS JIM surve ed the youth for a mo—
ment in amazement. e could hardly believe
he had heard aright, and the bystanders looked
equally surprised.

When the proposition was made, there wasn’t
a man in the saloon who had not at once jumped
to the conclusion that the he would be only
too lad to avail himself of t is easy mode of
getting out of the difficulty in which he had be-
come involved.

“ W ’ot! do you mean for to say that you won’t
do it?" the rufll-m exclaimed.

“ Not much i” Talbot replied.

“ I reckon you’re jest hungry for a thrash—

“And if I am, I reckon you’re not the man
able to give it to me.”

“ Boys, Ihate like thunder to welt the leetle
cuss, but you see he‘s got to have some sense
knocked into him," remarked Jim, addressing
the crowd. " I call upon the hull b’iling of you
to witness thatl offered to let him out, and he
wouldn’t have it. He’s anxious for fun, and he
won’t have no call to com lain if he gits a leetle
more than he expects. 0W look out for your-
self, for it’s an earthquake that’s coming!”

The bystanders were all eyes, while the Nan-
tucket man was in a fever. In his opinion the
youth stood no chance at all, and while he knew
that it would not do for him to interfere in the
be inning, as the bystanders were evidently
inc ined to side,with the bully, for there were
far more scamps than honest men in the place-
yet he had determined that he would not stan
tamelv by and see his protege brutally beaten.

St. Louis Jim, like all men of his class, was
considerable of a rough and-tumble fighter, but
almost totally ignorant of the true principles of
the boxer’s art.

His idea of a personal encounter was to close in
with his antagonist as soon as possible. In the
school of fighting in which he had graduated,
kicking, biting and gouging were all allowed.

Anticipating then an easy victory for he felt
sure he was strong enough to crush his puny
antagonist almost to death the moment he got
a good hold on him, be advanced with very
little caution.

He s rred with his huge arms. just as if he in-
tend to knock his opponent insensible at the
first stroke.

In fact, his idea was to hit the boy two or
three heavy links right at the beginnin , think-
ing that the blows would take all the ght out
of him. '

When the two came within arm’s-length,
for Talbot had advanced equally as uick as the
giant, much tothe astonishment of t e bystand-
ers, who thought the youth was crazy to be
thus eager to rush into a contest where all the
advantages seemed to be against him, the con-
trast between the two was not so great as all
had imagined.

Jim was perhaps by fifty pounds the heavier
man, but not over an inch taller, and no longer
in the reach. .

But the contrast between the style of the two
was wonderful, and there wasn’t a man in the
room who did not remark it.

Talbot was easy and graceful, the other
clumsy in the extreme.

When they came within reach they spurred
for a few moments, seeking for an opening to
put in a blow.

“ You’ve got a. pretty nice-lookin head on
you,” St. Louis Jim remarked. “ ’m sorry
that I shall be obligated to spile it for life.”

“ I can’t return the compliment for you are
about the ugliest—looking brutethat I ever en-
countered,” the youth replied;

“ Oh, I’m ugly, am 19‘ cried the other with a.
furious scowl, working his brawny arms like a
pair of wind-mills, striving to measure his op~
ponent so as to put in a tremendous blow. , ‘

“ Very ugly,” answered Talbot, gradually

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Young Dick Talbot.

 

11,

 

weaving in, and bracing himself for atremen-
dous effort. ‘

“ Wait till I git through with you if Jon
want to see an ug y cuss!” the bully growls .

Hardly ,had the words left his lips when
quick as a flash the left arm of the youth shot
out and its iron-like knuckles, landing on the
right cheek of the rufliau, right under the eye,
with a smack that sounded like the crack of a.
black-snake whip, knocked the man backward
a yard or more.

An involuntary “ Ah!” came from the lips of
all present. Few of the bystanders had ever
seen a more effective blow struck.

With a hoarse cry of rage, more like the howl
of a wild beast than the utterance of a human,
the rufflan steadied himself and then rushed upon
his 0 ponent.

Ta bot stood his ground as firmly as though
imbedded in the floor, and as his antagonist
rushed upon him, out shot his powerful left arm
and this time the blow caught the bully right
between the eyes, bringing him up, all a-stand-
ing as the seamen say, and for a moment St.
L'luis Jim was favored wito a private view of
more stars than he had ever seen in the heavens.

The blow tilted Jim’s head _upward slightly,
and the youth, having his man “measured,”
let fly his right arm and the stroke catching the
ruflian right under the chin, seemed to fairly
lift him from the floor, and he went over back‘
ward, his bull-like head striking the rough
boards with a terrific whack.

The contest was over, for, to use the lan-
guage of the sporting gentlemen, St. Louis Jim
was “ knocked out."

The shock had stunned him.

And no wonder for more than one in the room
asserted that the blow had been given with suf—
ficient force to have felled an ox.

There was a moment of silenca as the specta-
tors, amazed at the sight, the like of which they
had never beheld before, took a look at the fal-
len man and then turned inquiring razes upon
each other as much as to say: “ W at sort of
a fellow is this, anyway i" referring to the con—
queror.

“ Hooray !” ejaculated the Nantucket man,
abruptlfy, as he perceived that the fight was
ended, or he felt pretty certain that the rufflan,
after what had occurred, would not feel much
like continuing the fight. “By gosh! I guess
he has got all he wants!"

“Say, give me some water, you. clerk,” said
one of the crowd, beginning to fear that the bi
fellow was fatally injured, as he did not mani-
fest a sign of life.

But the suspicion was not correct. for after a
s cage with water had been applied to his tem-
p es, he sat up and looked around him for a mo-
ment in a wondering sort of way, as if he didn’t
exactly understand what had occurred.

This doubt did not last long, for the moment
his eyes fell upon his antagonist he understood
what had happened.

“ Cues me you ain’t jest old lightning!” be
exclaimed, rising slowly to his feet. “ Say, it
ain’t possible that you hit me with your flstsi
Ain‘t you at a club or a pair of brass knuckles
or someth ug of that sort. ’

The youth shook his head, while the bystand-
ers hastened to assure the ball that be had
been whipped in the squarest kin of a. fight.

“Duru me if I understand it.” and he shook
his head in a dubious sort of may. “ Why, my
noddle feels as hi as a bushel haske‘, and that
1353 mm you in me under the jaw ’buut
cracked it, I rec on." I

“ Are you prepared to apolog‘zl now?" the
youth asked, sternly.

“ Eh, w’ot’s thatT’and the ruffian appeared to
be intensely surprised.

“ I asked you if you were pre red to apolo-
ize for insulting me by snatching the glass of
cor out of my hand!” Talbot exclaimed. apv

preaching in such a decidedly threatening man-
ner that the roman stepped back until his re-
treat was cut ofl’ by the side of the house.

“Hol’ on, wfot are you ’bont?” he cried. shak-
ing his big head like a bull at bay, and endeav-
orinz to look fierce. .

“ Ave you 89mg t0 apologizfl” the youth de-
manded, doubling n his fists—the terrible fists
which had so maule the bully.

“ Take care! don’t you come near me, unless
you’ve got Your Hfaveyal‘d pk:de out!” ex-
claimed St. LOulS Jim, clutching one of his res
volvers. . . , .

“ You big. brute, am’t you satisfied with
what you have already received?” the youth de-
manded, drawing back his strong right arm in
readiness for another terrible stroke. “Don’t
you attempt to draw that pistol. or I'll hammer
you without mercy long before you can cock it

/

 

in readiness for use. You have got to apologize,
1 want you to understand that, and I don’t in-
tend you shall get out of it.”

“ You hain’t given me any show for my
money,” the rufiian grumbled, anxious to draw
his pistol, and yet afraid to do it as long as the
terrible right arm of the youth menaced him.

“You have had all the chance that a man
could have,” Talbot replied. “You have been
fairly whipped in a fair fight, and you ought to
be satisfied, but if you are not, now is the time
to sa so. You are complaining that you
haven t had a fair show, and yet you want to
draw your revolver on an unarmed man. Do
you call that the fair thing?”

The rufliau was in a bobble. He was cor-
nered, and he saw no way to escape from the
dilemma. The punishment he had received had
cowed him, and though he hated mortally to do
it, yet as the only thing possible under the cir-
cumstances, with an ill grace he apologized, and
then, with a covert threat that the day might
come when he would have a chance to get even,

. he sllmk away.

The bystanders gathered around the youth
and loudly expressed their approval of his con-
duct. but as soon as possible Abner and his
protege departed.

CHAPTER XIV.
FRENCHMAN’S FLAT.

“I TELL you what it is. Abner, this is a coun-
try where a man will have to look out, or he’ll
be a dead man before he knows it,” Talbot re-
marked as he and the Yankee sauntrred down
the street.

"’ You see, Dick, old Stoddard wasn’t joking
when he said that in California a. feller needed
good weapons as much as good tools," observed
the Nantucket man. ‘

“Yes, and we ought to have heeded his ad~
vice and got an outfit in Mobile.”

“ I guess that was my fault,” the Yankee ac
knowledged. “But I never had occasion to
need any weapons, and I thought it won d only
be a waste of money to invest in any; but,
Dick, I’m going to put some cash in some now,
right away‘.”

“I thin it will be advisable, for it is evi-
dent there are plenty of rough fellows in this
countr who care nothing for the law, and as
they al go armed to the teeth they would be
apt to presume upon the fact if they came across
a man who was not armed. If this fellow had
succeeded in drawing his revolver'to-day, it
‘wonld have one hard with me, for I haven’t
the least don t that the scoundrel would have
shot me down in cold blood, without any mer-
cy. -
‘fSakes alive! how you did handle him!” ex-
claimed Abner, chuckling over the remem-
brance of the scientific way in which the bully
had been thrashed. “ Upon my word, Dick. no
one, to look at you, would have believed that

on could have done it. Why, the critter was
ig enoughrto eat you. I trembled in my shoes
all the time."

“I am well develo d for my age, and then.
too, men who are ju ges in such matters say I
am unusually powerful. In fact, I could al-
ways fight as much as any other two members
of the social clubto which I belonged. and at
the club I learned to box and wrestle. I had a
natural taste for all muscular amusements, and
sotook to them; but I never thought that my
accomplishments in that line would ever come
in so handily as they have to-day.”

“ By gosh! you handled him like a prize fight-
er. I’ve seen a good many scufl’les in my time,
FBI. Innever saw a man whipped so quickly be-

ore

“ The man was stron enough, but he didn‘t
know anythin about ioxing. and that 'gave
me a terrific a vantage; and than. too. the fel-
low wus a coward at heart. despite of all his
bravado. I felt pretty sure of that when he
troubled me, for a man who really amounted
to anything wouldn’t 0 out of his way to pick
a quarrel with one w 0. apparently, was no
match for him.”

“ That’s law and gospel the world over,” the
Yankee assented.

“ And the moment the scoundrel on me at me.
I saw from the way he put up his hands that he
hadn’t any knewledge of the boxer’s art, and so
it was an easy matter for me to hit him when
and where I liked—and I madernp my mind
right at the beginning that I would strike him
for all I was worth.”

“And you did. too—there isn’t any mistake
about that. I never saw a critter keelod over

 

when be reflected upon the discomfiture of the
bull . .

Jiist then they came in sight of a store in the
windows of which a fine assortment of weap—
ons were dis layed.

“Here’s t e place for us to stock up,” said
the youth, directing the attention of his cont
panion to the store. I

“When you’re in Turkey, do as the tor-kit's
do." responded the Nantucket man, with a grin,
“ And as all the critters in these parts go’round
with knives and pistols harnessed to_ ’em, I
s’pose we ought not to be out of the fashion.”

So the two friends entered the store, and or CH
one invested in a pair of revolvers and a gond-
sized bowie—knife, together with e. plentiful sup—
ply of ammunition.

From the store they proceeded to head—quar—
ters, and there met Colonel Stoddard, who in-
formed them that all preparations had been
made for the journey, and the expedition
would set out at five o’clock n< xt morning.

“I sha’n’t be sorry to get out of this pesky
town,” Abner remarked. “The critters here.
are too much inclined to be quarrelsome to suit
me; and I tell you, Dick, after what happened
try—day. it is just as well for us not to tarry any
longer in this ’tarnal town than we kin help.‘

“That big rascal is an ugly cont—I’d be Will—
ing to bet ninepence «tn than-«and if he found
out we wasin town. he’d git together a gang of
roughs some night jest for the purpose of getting
even with us."

“ He‘s none too good for it,” the youth as.
senied.

“ Therefore, the quicker we get out the
better. For my par , I would be better
pleased if we started to-night than in the morn-
lll .”

a Oh, we mustn’t run away from the scamp,
you know.”

“Run—not much! Oh, no; I wouldn’t run,
not for the world; but rather than have any
trouble, and being obliged to kill adozen or two
of the land‘pirates, I would walk mighty
fast," replied the Yankee, with his everlasting

rm.
g Promptly at the appointed time in the , morn‘

ing, Colonel Stoddard led his party out of San

Francisco.

There were fifteen pilgrims in the expedition,
who had been persuaded by the colonel’s
eloquence to try their luck at Frenchman’s
Flat.

The journey was an uneventful ’one, and
in due time the party arrived at their destina~
tion.

The place was situated on the upper Mari
river. and possessed a po ulation of possib y a
hundred souls all told—a 1 men, with the cxcep»
iion of the wife and daughter of one of the set-
tlers—a gaunt old man. who acted as the express
agent, and kept the only store in the camp. He
was known as Thomas ichardson.

It was just about supper-time when the trav—
elers rode into the town, and therefore all the-
inhabitants were at home, having knocked off
work for the day.

Richardson’s store was the general loungin
place, being a capacious two storied shanty; t 9
store was in the front part, and in the rear 0
sort of restaurant, for Mrs. Richardson, with
Ehe assistance of her daughter, ran a boarding~

ouse. , ‘

The principal income of the store was from
the sale of whi ky. for the express agentran a
regular saloon in one art of the store.

“ I see you’re all sett ed and in runnin .order,"
the colonel remarked as he rode up to t e hotel,
for Richardson had di nified his establishment
with a rudely paint sign, which displayed
a spread-eagle, and the words, “ American
Hotel.” . ‘

“ Oh. yes: all in up le-pie order, colonel.”
responded the landlor , shaking hands with
Stoddard after he dismounted. “You've got
quite a party with you,” he added, running his
eyes over the new comers. and mentally calcu—
lating how much he would be able to make out
of the crowd. _

“ I reckon so. I told the boys they couldn’t
find a better lace to drive their stakes than at
Frenchman’s lat."

“ I reckon you are about right there, colonel.
The claims are panning out first-rate; some of
the boys have been ms ing at the rate of ten
and twelve dollars a day, and there isn’t one of
them that isn’t making a good living,” Richard-
son remarked, while the new comers distened'
with eager ears to this cheering intelligence;

" But walk right into the house, gentlemen,
and I will do my best to take care of you until

more beautifully in all my born days!” Ahnar you fix up places of your own.” the old man
exclaimed in glee, and he laughed outright continued. “ Snpperisabout ready, and you’ve

 

s».

 

 

' ' \ neat store supper.

.12

Young Dick Talbot.

 

just got time to join me in a social drink store
you sit down to the tab .” '

Then the speaker conducted the strangers into
the store, where a shock-headed youth, who
acted as general assistant to the old man, set
out the whisky and glasses.

Abner and the youth were the last to enter,
and they rather kept in the background; for
‘either one of them had any liking for liquor,
“ad the hoped to be excused from accepting

I a pro ered hospitality.
/ But the old man had his eyes on our hero,
who in his appearance was so different from the
rust, who were somewhat rough in their appear-
ance.

“Come, youngster!” Richardson exclaimed,
“step to the front and take a swig of whisky;
it won’t hurt you but on the contrary build you
up and make a. man out of you. Jest you drink
whisky enough and you‘ll be a man afore your
mother I"

. And the rest, rendered somewhat jovial by
the landlord’s hospitality, laughed heartily at
the old-time joke.

“I’m very much obliged to you, sir. but I do
not care for it,” the youth r lied, quietly.

“Neither do I!” the ankee exwlaimed.
“I’ve drank more whisky now than is good for
me since I was hatched and I guess it’s ’bout
time for me to quit.”

“ Oh, you can suit yourself, of course, this is
a. free country," Richardson remarked in a
rather insolent sort of way. “You are stran-

' ,gers to this coast and cannot be expected to un—
derstand our ways, but you will get used to

.. them in time, butI can tell you that there are

some camps in California where it wouldn’t be
wise to refuses drink when it is politely ten-
dered‘by a gentleman."

“ Oh, the youngster will come to his milk one
of these days,” observed the colonel. “Let’s
drop the subject now nudge in to supper. ”

And so no more was sai about the matter.

At the supper-ta ble the adventurers were
given an opportunity to see the wife and daugh-
terol" the. landlord. ’

The wife, Mother Nance, as she had been
nicknamed by the miner. was a hard-featured,
ugly. old woman with a masculine appearance.
but the daughter, Laura, was a most decided
contrast, being only about eighteen, a blueeyed
blonde haired beauty, with a buxom figure and
a charming face.

She was a pleasant, honest sort of girl, and as
our hero afterward discovered, as much liked
as her parents were disliked by the majority of
the miners.

Richardson introduced his wife and daughter
to Colonel Stoddard with a great flourish as
they had arrived during his absence and then
they all sat down to supper. ‘

 

CHAPTER XV.
.1 A CREATING TRANSACTION.

Am the meal was ended, the Nantucket
man and his protege took a walk around town to
see what it was like. .

Darkness had arrived by this time but as the
fulljmoon came up early the pair were able to

ta-pretty good idea of what the town was

“That Richardson is a kinder queer old
rooster,” Abner observed as they strol ed along.

“ Yes, I don’t admire him much.”

“ Neither do I; I didn’t like that whisky busi-
I didn’t come out here to
i work like all- d for gold and then go and

throw it away on bad liquor.

treat was jest I. bait to attract customers. I
‘would be willing to bet a big apple that he

makes more mono out of that p ace of bis’n
(than any ten men the town.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. and I think too
from what I heard Stoddard say while on the
we here that he has an interest in it.”

, ‘ ‘ Very likely, he”: a sort of high-cockalorum

in this camp. Say, Dick, did on happen to

notioe‘at the supper-table how be cast sheep’s

eyes at the lactic gal."

h “9h, yes, he was evidently impressed by
. er.

, i “ And, Dick, don’t you think that the colonel
18 a bath too old for to be shining up to sich a.
young heifer?” asked the Yankee, shrewdly.

“Decidodly too old, and someway I’ve an
idea that the lady was not leased at the way
in which he looked at her. ny idea of marriage
between the two is utterly ridiculous, to my
w. Why,tho colonel is a man of fifty

. “'Suroae you’re born, and the is in her
team soothe k,don’t 03:1 leton that

', r thing, Did
I said anything about it,” and the Yankee looked

That standing -

 

around him cautiously, as though afraid of be-
ing overheard.

‘Certainly not; you ought to know me well
enough by this time to understand that there
isn’t any danger of my talking too much.”

“That’s so; ou’re ‘bout as close~mouthed a
critter as ever run across. Well, what I was
going to say 'bout the colonel is, I guess he can’t
git spliced to any gal verquell, for I’m pretty
certain he’s got a wife in obile.”

“ That would rather interfere.”

“Yes, I believe that they have separated, but
I understood that there hadn’t been any legal
divorce. As I heard the story, his wife comes
of a good family, and there’s a big chance she
Will come in for a heap of money one of these
days, and so the colonel is anxious to keep the
knot from being untied. He‘s beeu a pretty
wild chap in his time, but his wife is one of the
particular sort, and she would rather live apart
from him. and make believe not to know any-
thing about his didoes, than to go into a court
and so publish her wrongs to everybody.”

“Of course I don’t know much about the
colonel but I haven’t a very high 0 inion of
him. in: inclined to believe he won d be ex-
tremely ugly and disagreeable if he fancied any
one was in his way,” the youth observed,
thoughtfully.

“ I guess you’ve got him sized up ’bout right,”
Abner admitted.

“ But as we are not likely to come in contact
with :him, it will not make a particle of differ
ence to us even if he is high-tempered and dis-
posed to be dogmatic."

“ Not a mite!"

“ But about this girl affair, suppose the
colonel does go after her?” asked the youth,
slowly.

“ ell, what if he does?” asked the Nantucket
man, with a covert glance into the face of the
other.

“ Would it be right for us to permit him to go
ahead, knowing, as We do, that he has a. wife
living, and that he can’t legally marry this one?"
Dick asked, his voice earnest and a thoughtful
look upon his face.

“I swow, boy, you are putting a. pretty
knotty question to me!" Abner exclaimed. “A
lawyer might get ’round it by saying that as it
ain’ any of our business. we ain‘t got any right
to interfere, and might strengthen his position
by repeating the old adage that he had known a
good many men in this world to get rich by at-
tending strictly to their own busmess.”

“ But would it be honest for us to allow the
colonel to act like a scoundrel when by a word
we could prevent it?" the youth demanded ab-

ruptlv.

“No, I don’t think it would be exactly the
square thing.

“ If she was a daughter or sister of ours,
wouldn’t we thank the man from the very bot-
tom of our hearts, who was bold enough to step
forward and revent the crime, for it is a crime
and in my op nion an atrocious one."

“ Well, you can jest bet all the wealth you’ve
ot that we would!” cried Abner, all his better
eelings aroused by the appeal of his companion.

“That is the way I feel about it, and I tell
you, Abner, I'm not goin to stand tamel by
and see the girl wronged. ’m not anxious or a
quarrel, and least of all wit the colonel, for he’s
a hotblooded Southerner, with the reputation
of being an expert duelist, and if there is trouble
it will, in all probability, lead to bloodshed, but
right is right, and when the time comes I do not
intend to be found upon the wrong side.

“ We may be borrowing trouble in this mat—
ter, you know; the colonel may not have any
intention of pursuing the girl, but, somehow,
from the we be looked at her, the idea came
into my be that he was attracted by her and
so I thought you and 1 might as well come to an
understanding."

“ I’m glad you spoke: it will not do a mite of
hurt to be prepared even if nothing comes of it;
but, Dick. jest you make up your mind that
yfip kin depend upon me clean through,” replied

ner.

By this time the twain had arrived at the hotel
and so the conversation ended. r

The accommodations afforded by the Ameri~
can Hotel were far worse than any thing that the
adventurers had yet struck in the Golden State.

All the miners slept in one large room. Some
rude bunks composed of pine boughs were ar-
ranged on the floor and each individugl spread
his lanket and camped down upon it, not the
least bit of bed—clothes being provided.

But some way in he of these scanty accom-
modations the men a ept r Iendidly.

All were up hetimes n the morning and
Abner and Dick, having taken counsel from the

-

 

men who were posted in regard to the claims
offered for sale in the neighborhood of the town,
urchased a hundred square feet from Colonel
toddard, being the upper end of a claim of his
known by the peculiar name of Nip and Tuck.

Neither one of the partners was able to guess
wh such an odd name had been given to the
claim, but after they had been working it for
a week with very poor success, hardly geit=ng
enough out of the claim to pa livin expenses,
their neighbor, a grim grizzle old to low of vast
experience in mining matters being one of the
pioneers of ’forty-nine, enlightened them one day
when he strolled over at sunset to see how they
were getting along.

“ You reckon it's a kinder qUeer name,” he
observed with a chuckle, when Dick let fall a
remark in regard to the queer appellation.

" It seems so to us.” Abner answered.

“Afore you git through with it you'll find it
will be nip and luck with starvation as long as
you try to git a living ouien it,” the veteran re-
marked.

And then the truth came out; the claim was
considered worthless by all the experienced men
of the place, and the miner more than insinu-
aied that Stoddard had acquired all the lucrc
he pOSSessed not by successful mining, but by
speculating in claims, buying up lands of little
value and disposing of them to guileless fortune-
seekers at an enormous advance.

After they ascertained these facts, the part
ners held a consultation.

They had bought the claim with their eyes
open and there wasn’t any use of appealing to
the colonel about the matter, and so they came
to the conclusion that the only thing to do
was to hold on to it while they could get a.
living out of it and at the same time keep on
the lookout for a better spot.

As in more civilized communities this kind
of sharp practice on the part of the colonel was
not regarded as being particularly dishonest,
and it did not seem to hurt his popularity in
the least. for when the miners came to the con
clusion that the camp had grown big enough to
he organized into a regular town, Stoddard
was chosen for alcalde by an almost unani-
mous vote.

On the night after the election, when the
result of the contest was made known and the

artisans of the successful man were cele-
bratin his election by a huge bonfire in front
of the otel and the colonel, from a second-
story window, was returning his “heartfelt
thanks” to his fellow-citizens, who, by their
actions that day had caused his bosom to
thrill with pride when be reflected that he
was “an American citizen and the first al-
calde of the successful town known as Frenc‘i-
man’s Flat,” the artners standing at the
door of the little ca in which they had erect—
ed on their miserable claim, watched the re—
joicing from afar.

"There used to be an old saying when I was
a boy ’oout cheating never rospering,” Abner
remarked in a rather dolefu way as he noted
the bonfire blazing up against the night and
the cheers of the celebrating miners came dis-
tinctly to his ears, “but I swow it seems to me
as if that ’ere thing don‘t hold good out in this
country, for jest see this sky sax-pint of a
colonel. They say all ’roun t0wn that he has
bitten every man that ever traded with him,
and, by gosh, he’s getting on better than any
man in the place. Old Jones "—the veteran be-
fme mentioned—“ said this mornin that there
wasn't any. doubt ’bout the colone ’9 election,
for the biggest rascal in the cam was always
chosen for elcalde, and everyb knew that
old Stoddard filled the bill to a ."

" ‘ It’s a long lane that has no tuming,’ "
Dick responde , “and I’m not satisfied to crv
quits with the colonel yet. Alcalde or no al«
calde, I'm oing to have satisfaction for this
mine swin la, and Ipretty soon, too,‘ you; can
depend upon it. f I can’t do it any other
way, I’ll skin him at poker. He thinks he can
play, but I’ll make him change his opinion.”

CHAPTER XVI.
- 'rnn comNnL’s DEMAND.

Fen some three weeks aflairs in the camp
went on without anything occurring worthy of
mention.

Colonel Stoddard paid such devoted attention
to Miss Richardson that it was the talk of the
town, but the glrl’did not seem to be leased.
with his endeavors, although the .01 folks
helped the colonel along in every possible way.

In such a small community it wasn’t possible
for an of the members to remain long strangers
to sac other. and so Miss Richer-dean and cur
hero, young Talbot, became acquainted, and a-

 

 

t
/

Young Dick Talbot.

13

 

 

mutual liking sprung up bet l een them, although
the old man and his wife never lost an oppor-
tunity to revile the partners.

Neither one of them patronized Richardson’s
Whisky-shop, and in fact, if they had been so
disposed, their claim was not producing enough
to allow them to indulge in any luxuries.

it was as much as they could do to get a bare
living out of it, and even then they had to live
in the most fru a1 manner.

Frenchman’s lat was like all other places in
this world, and the tale-bearer was not absent,
and so it soon came to the colonel’s knowledge
mat Miss Richardson was accustomed every
now and then to take a walk up the valley and
when she passed the Nip and Tuck c aim.
usually stopped and chatted for a few minutes
with the partners.

An ugly feeling had grown up in Stoddard’s
mind in re ard to the Yankee and Talbot; he
knew that 8 had swindled them in regard to
we sale of the claim, and was aware they were
conscious of the fact, and like all men who suc—
ceed in injuring others, he was afraid his
victims might attempt to get even with him,
and then, too, since he had become alcalde of
the town, he fancied that the ir did not treat
him with the respect due to his exalted station.

This was true enough, for both the Yankee
and Talbot were—to use Abner’s quaint ex-
pression, “as independent as a hog on ice,” and
holding the colonel to be a mean rascal, they
did not go out of their way to truckle to him.

Stoddard, when he found that his suit did not

roduce the impression he desired upon the
ady,’ and about that time heard that she was
fond of talking to the youth, immediately
jam (1 to the conclusion that in Dick he had a
riva , and so in his bull-headed way he came up
to Nip and Tuck claim for the purpose of saying
a few plain words to the youth.

“See hyerl” he exclaimed, as he approached
Dick who was busy with the pick getting out
the dirt for his companion to wash. n the days
of which we write it was about all surface
mining in California, and carried on in the most
primitive way. “I want to haves little talk
with you. young man.”

Stoddard’s manner was domineering and
(fiensive in the extreme.

"Go ahead. I can hear what you say, I guess,”
replied Talbot, leaning on his pick and survey-
ing the colonel with anything but a friendly
expression. “ I’m not deaf.”

“I’m going to say a few words to you for
your good, and I hope to speak so plain that
you Will not misunderstand me,” and Stoddard
scowled in an ugly way.

Our hero returned the lok with interest,
though, for he had made up his mind not to
3 ield an inch to the old scouudrel.

“ You are new to these (liggings, and not as

well posted as you might be,” the onlonel con-

tinued. .

“ Right you are about that. If either myself
or partner had been posted, it isn’t likely that
you would have been able to have stuck us with
this worthless mine," replied the youth, shortly.

The colonel w red in the face as this an—
swer fell upon is ears. He had not expected to
have the truth so plain] delivered to him.

“ Oh, you don’t thin the claim is good for
anything. then?”

, "Yes. I do; first rate to give to a man that
you don’t like and whom you would be glad to see
starve to death.” a

“ I have understood that you have been shoot-
ing of! your mouth pretty lively about this
claim, and I want you to know that I am not
the kind of man to allow any such talk!” Stod-
dard exclaimed threateningly.

” 0b» you sw ndle a man first and then stand
readyto kick him if he complains,” Dick re-
tufted.

“ You’re using hard words, young man!” the

colonel cried, not exactly knowing what to
make of the bold front that the youth has as—
sumed.
“ t’s nothing but the truth. and I guess you
know it as well as Ido,” and Talbot favored the
other with asiggiiflcant glance that made him
fairly glow wit rage.

“From the we you talk I should fancy you
wanted to provo e a difficulty!” and Stoddard
assumed a threatening look.

“Oh no I’m not anxious to quarrel with any
one. ’m just as peaceable a felow as you will
find anywhere, yet I don’t believe in allowin
(We bodyto walk over me, and if any man, I
don’ care who he is, attempts to rub in hair
the wrong way, it is more than likely shall
get angrly.”

“Neit er am I anxious to have a difiiculty
with any person," Stoddard observed, endeavor-

 

ing to restrain his anger and appear calm, for
he was conscious that if he allowed his temper
to get the better of him, the youth would have
a decided advantage, for he had not come for
the purpose of bringing the matter to a head.

In fact, in his overweening self-conceit, he had
an idea that a hint or two from him would be
sufficient to make the youth steer clear of his
track for all time to come.

Of course he had made up his mind that if
Talbot was stiff—necked and obstinate, he would
provoke him to a personal encounter relying
upon his skill with weapons to kill the boy, an
so remove him from his path for all time to
come.

But this was no place for the carrying out of
such a plan. The colonel wanted plenty of wit~
nessee, and it was his game in all matters of this
kind to provoke his antagonist to begin the
quarrel. so that if the affair had a fatal ending
he would be held free from blame.

His idea was to threaten the youth with his
vengeance if he did not carry himself more care-
fully. and although he had made up his mind to
kill Dick if he did not heed the warning, yet not
for an instant had be imagined such a thin
would become necessary. for he fat cied he coul
frighten the boy into doing as he wished.

Talbot’s bold front therefore surprised him.

“ It is my way," the colonel continued, “ when
a misunderstanding arises between myself and
anybody else to go right to the party and have
an explanation. I think it always saves
trouble.”

“ No doubt at all about that. ”

“Now I have heard you have been talking
pretty loosely about me in regard to the trans-
action concerning this claim, and I made up
my mind I would come ri ht to you about the
matter. I den’t want any ody to go round the
camp telling lies about me, you know,” and
Stoddart shook his finger impressively in Dick’s
face.

When this offensive speech escaped from the
colonel, it was as much as Talbot could do to
restrain the impulse which bade him smack the
speaker’s face in such an emphatic manner'as to
loosen all his teeth, but by a great effort be con-
trolled himself.

If the colonel had received a whack from
Dick’s iron-like hand, he mostsurely would have
changed his mind in regard to the capabilities
of the antagonist whom he was much under-
rating.

Talbot‘s muscular powers were entirely un-
known to Stoddard, for at the youth‘s request,
his encounter with the bully in San Francisco
had been kept quiet, for Dick was not anxious
to arguire the reputation of being a hard nut to
crac .

“ l hav’n’t told any lies about you, colonel,”
he replied. “ In fact, I hav’n’t said much of
anything about the claim to an one.” And
this was the truth, for Stoddard’s idea that the
partners had been traducin him on account of
the sale of the mine, arose mm a guilty knowl-
edge that he had most grossly swmdled the
unsus ting pilgrims in the sale.

“ l the old inhabitants of the valley know
that the claim isn’t good for an rthing,” Dick
continued, “and that no one as ever suc—
ceeded in making a living out of it-yet.

“ All the talk about the matter has come from
the sharps who have called to See how we
were getting on, and who laughed at the idea
of our paying you two hundred dollars for a
claim that only cost you live.”

“That’s a lie!" cried the colonel shortly.
“The fellows owed me over a hundred and
flftydollars good, honest cash. I ve them
five dollars to help them out of the wn, took
{Lie claim for the debt and so squared the

mg.

“ Of course I don’t know anything about that,
I’m only telling you what I have heard, and
you have it as cheap as I got its My opinion
though, is, that if you only paid five dollar!l for
the claim, you were badly swindled, for it- is
absolutely worthless.” '

“You’re not experienced miners and proba-
bly don’t know how to work it, but I want .you
to understand I don’t wish to hear anything
more about it.

“And then there’s another thin I want to
talk to you about. I understan you have
been putting ourself out of the way to address
Miss Richar son lately, and as that lady will
shortly become mv wire your conduct is not
pleasing to me and I want you to stop it.”

“Anything elsal" asked Dick, socalmly that
the colonel was completely deceived.

“ No, nothing more that I can think of‘at ran:
out. Well, you understand now how the and
lies so look out in the future,” and then with

 

an imperious nod of the head Stoddard saun-

tered away satisfied be had crushed a possible

rival out of his path. .
Never was a man more deceived.

CHAPTER XVII.
AN EXPLOSION.

ABNER after the colonel’s departure came in
haste to see what was up, for, although he was
too far off to overhear the conversation, yet
from the appearance of the two during the talk.
he had guessed that the interview had not been.
a pleasant one.

ick related all that had occurred and the
anger of the Nantucket man was great. .

“Why, the p’isoned sarpintl” he exclaimed.
“He wants to add insult to injury. He ain’t
satisfied with skinning us out of our mone but
he wants us to back him up for his liberahty in
mlling us the darned thing. What are you a-go—
ing to do ’bout it, Dick?”

“ Cut his comb so closely at the first favorable
opportunity that he will never be able tohold
up his head hi h enough to crow again in this
region!” replie the youth, abruptly. and the
expression upon his clear-cut features showed
that it was no idle boast.

“ How soon do you calculate to try it on?”
the Yankee naked.

“ To-night, I guess. This is one of the kind of
affairs that ought not tobe delayed; the quicker
it is settled t e better. After what has oc—
curred today this camp isn’t big enough to hold
both the colonel and myself unless one of us
knocks under. He intends mischief to the girl
too, for he announced that she would shortly
become his wife.”

“And that don’t please you much I guess,”
Abner remarked with a grin.

“ You are right, it does not,” Dick answered
honestly. “ The girl is a. good girl and since I
have made her acquaintance and learned her
character I have become more and more deter-
mined that old Stoddard shall not make her his
victim. I expect we will have a lively time,
but I shall go amply pre ared and before-we
get through one of us will apt to besorry the
picnic occurred.”

“I say, Dick, if the colonel knew how you
handled that big feller in Frisco afore we start.
ed I don’t believe he’d be so anxions for a fuse
with you.” -

“There isn’t' much doubt about that,” the
youth remarked with a smile. “ Stoddard in

ringing on this quarrel presumed upon the,
fact that I am‘only a boy, and he thinks he has
a soft thing.”

“ But store he gets through he may change
his opinion ’bout that matter,” the Yankee re~
marked knowingly.

He had such faith in his companion that he
did not doubt in the least in re ard to the result.

He was sure that if Stod ard ventured to
bring on a strug le he would very soon discover
he had caught a artar.

At sundown when the rtners came to figure
up the product of the a ’3 work they' found
that they had only succeeded in getting about
two dollars worth of dust.

“Blamed if the thing ain’t gitting worse in—
stead of better I” the Nantucket man exclaimed,
discouraged by the unprofitable result. “ If it
keeps on in this way it will peter down to ’bout
fifty cents a day and then I reckon we’ll haveto
hustle round pretty lively for grub or else learn
to git along without any.” -

‘ It is about time t at we kicked up a little
fuss with the colonel in regard to this swindle,”
Dick observed thoughtfully. ’

“ That is so."

“The swindle is really too big. If he had‘ ‘
struck us for fifty dollars we could aflord to
grin and bear it. but two hundred is altogo ther-
too bad—too big a profit on an investment of
five dollars.” r ,

His partner coincided with our hero in regard
to this, and so, after their frugal supper was
ended, they started for the American Hotel,
which, after nightfall, was the general rendezr
vous for the miners.

It was dark by the time they reached the cen-
ter of the camp. and when they came in sight
of the hotel the Yankee suggested that as there
was a probability of their getting into a row in
case they had any words with Stoddard. it
would only be prudent for them to examine
their weapons and see that they were in work-
ing order. '

‘In a leetle discussion such as we are apt to
get into. a miss—fire would be apt to cost a man

his life,” he observed.

Dick assented to this, and the two retired to
the shelter of a convenient little clump' of
bushes and examined their weapons.

  

14

 

Young Dick Talbot.

 

 

Hardly was the examination completed when
they became aware that two men were ap-
proaching the s t busy in. conversation.
The two, sitt ng in a little open spot in the
center of the bushes, were completely concealed
from view, and the new-comers halted within
earshot of the partners, without the slightest
suspicion that their conversation could be over-
heard.
' “I tell you what it is. old man,” said one of
"-ne two, in a voice which both of the listeners
. nmediately recognized, “you have got to come
1130 some decision in this matter, and speedily,

The s aker was Colonel Stoddard.

“ We 1, colonel, you needn‘t git huffi ’bout
the matter. I reckon I’m doing all I in for
you,” replied the other, who was the hotel-

eeper, old Richardson.

The Yankee could not help nudging our hero,
for Abner considered this accident to be a rare
bit of luck.

There wasn’t the least need of calling Dick’s
attention, for he was on the alert, having recog—
nized the speakers the moment he heard their
vaices.

“But you are not doing enough. You know
I want the girl and. that ought to be sufficient,”
the colonel complained. ‘

“ Ain’t I talking for you all the time, both me
and the old woman? Why, colonel, we never
lose a chance to ding it into- her ears what a
splendid catch it would be for her if she could
onlyéet you.”

‘ es, yes, that is all very well; I don’t doubt
that you talk, but what good does it do when
you allow the girl to roam around at her own
sweet will? Don’t you know that she goes upto
that cursed Nip and Tuck claim about every
day, sits down on a rock there and talks to that
young whelp of a Talbot by the hour together?”
demanded Stoddard,angrily.

“Well, colonel, honestly, I didn’t know any-
thing about it until this afternoon and then one
of the boys commenced to joke the gal about the
matter, and I saw from the queer way she acted
there was something in the thing. I questioned
her about it but she was as contrary as a mule,
and said she reckoned she didn’t walk up that
way any oftener than she went down the
river, and of course as I really didn’t know any-
thing sure about the matter, she kinder had the
best of me."

“It’s ot to be stopped; that’s all there is
about it! ’ the colonel remarked in a peremptory
manner.

“I’ll do all I can, of course, but I tell you,
Stoddard, it isn’t an easy with such a contrary
heifer as my gal. I you attempt to put a tight

' rein upon her she is mighty apt to kick over the
traces.”

“See hyer, Richardson, I’ve been a good
friend to you, haven’t I?” the other demanded,
abru tly.

“ h, yes, colonel, you allus helped me out
when I needed any assistance, but then I’ve been
the means of putting a good many dollars in
your hot too."

“ es, that is true enolutgh, only without me
you would have had he scratching, while I
could have got another man to answer my
purpose about as well as you have.”

“.Sartin, colonel I ain’t a-saying anything
ag‘in’ that," the hotel-kee er admitted.

“ Now, I want you to c mea favor, and you
are not willing.” 7

“ Come, come, colonel! Ain’t you putting
it rather strong to say that?”

“Not at all—it’s the plain English of it, and
that’s what’s the matter. 1 want your daugh—
ter‘ the ' lis foolish and headstrong like nine-

nthso the rls at her age. She has got to

a made to m nd—that‘s all there is to it. You
want to put your foot right down, say Colonel
Stoddard. is the husband ’ve picked out for you
—you must get ready to be married next week
afid'that would settle the matter for good and
a .

“S'pose she cuts up rusty, and won’t listen
to reason?" old Richardson inquired, in a dubi-
ous sort of way.

“Lock her up, and keep her on bread and
warer until she is willing to do as she is bid!”
cried Stoddard angrily. “By Jovel sir, I tell
you what it is—~if had a daughter inclined to
bedisohedient, I’d make her come to time, or
I’d flog the life out of her just the same as if she
was a refractory mule.”

"I’d do it in a moment, of course,” the old
than observed. “for I haven't got any more pa-
tience with such a thing than you have; but the
old woman, her mother, you know, is dread-
fully set in her way, and I reckon she’d kick
up a row if I tried anything of that kind.”

«

 

“ Oh, you’ve got to contend with both the old
woman and the girl, then?” exclaimed Stoddard
contem tuously. r

“We 1, it ain’t quite so bad as that. The old
woman is on your side fast enough, but I doubt
whether she would agree to harsh measures,
such as starving and flogging, you know. She
thinks we can persuade her.”

“ Perhaps it might be done if we could afford
to wait a year or two for it, but I am not will-
ing to do that. I want the thing settled within
a couple of weeks at the furthest—and, look—
ye! Richardson, you must bring the girl to
terms.”

“ I will if I kin, but if so be as how she won’t
have it, what kin 1 do?” and there was a dog-
gedness in the way the old man put the ques-
tion that plainly betrayed he was annoyed.

“ By the way, Richardson, from what part
of the East did you come?” asked the colonel,
abruptly.

“Why, from Illinoy," and there was surprise
in the old man’s tone, as if he wondered why
the uestion was asked.

“ h, I thought you was from Montgomery,
Alabama.” '

“ Never was thar in my life I" and now there
was general alarm in the voice.

“ I was goin to put you in the way of a good
thing. A Jae son Smith, of Montgomery, ab-
scouded from Montgomery about two years ago
with some ten thousand dollars that he fraudu-
lently got his hands upon, came to Frisco, lost
about all his money in gambling, and then fled
to the mountains when he heard the officers were
after him. I met the party in Frisco on this
trip. They’re offering a reward of a thousand
for the capture of the man. He was accom-

anied in his flight by his wife and daughter.
I we could get our hands on him, old man, we
could make a strike.”

“ Yes; but we don’t want to bother ourselves
about it. You can depend, I’ll fix the girl all
right."

 

-CHAPTER XVIII.
JUSTICE AT LAST.
THE two men, having arrived at an under-
standin , resumed their walk, and the involun‘
tary lis ners heard no more of the conversa-

tion.

After the colonel and the hotel-keeper got
away to a safe distance, the partners came from
their retreat in the bushes.

“By gosh! the colonel has got a ring in the
old man’s nose, hasn’t he?” the Yankee ob-
served, as the pair proceeded toward the

hotel.

“ It looks like it. ” y

“ I allers felt sure that Richardson was a
mean scamp. The idea of his levantin with
ten thousand dollars, and then gitting ri of it
gambling.”

“ Ill got, ill gone, you know.”

“ I say, if you settle Stoddard. you’ll be able
to work the old man all right; for you‘ll
have jest as big a pull on him. as the col-
onel.” _

“ Yes; and with such an old rascal, I should-
n’t hesitate to use the knowledge. Isn’t it strange
that such a vile old wretch should have so beau-
tiful and, good a child?" I 

Abner agreed that it was wonderful and after
a few more words of unimportant conversation
the pair entered the hotel.

The place was well filled with miners. drink-
ing, smoking, some playing cards and others
engaged in conversation. '

he colonel and the old,man stood leaning
against the bar and their eyes fell upon the
partners the moment they entered.

Stoddard had made n his mind to bring mat-
ters to a head. He be resolved to pick a quar-
rel with" the youth and drive him from the
camp, so after the two were fairly in the room
he stepped forward and said;

“Gentlemen, as you are all friends of mine
andI know you take an interest in my welfare
let me announce to you that an important
event is about to occur in my life. I’m going to
be married, fellow-citizens, and as it will be the
first marriage that has ever taken place in this
camp I intend to celebrate this ceremony in a
style that will make all of you open your eyes.
I hereby invite every man in the room to the
wedding and I promise you that you shall have
a bang-up time. You are all acquainted With
the bride, gentlemen. it is the daughter of our
worth friend here. Richardson,” and he patted
the ol man on the shoulder. “Now, gentlev
men, I want eVery man in the room to take- a
drink at my expense and congratulate me upon
the ap roaching event.”

The rkeeper hastened to set out the bottles

 

and glasses while the miners flocked up to the
bar, the two partners, excepted.

The colonel had his eyes upon them, for this
invitation to drink was only a cunning device
on his part to bring about a quarrel. 1

He felt perfectly sure that the two would de-
cline his treat and so give him a chance to
brin on an altercation.

“ allo, ain’t you two going to h’ist in a little
poison at my expense and congratulate me
upon my approaching union?” be asked, com-
ing upto w are the two stood quietly in the
background, a scowl upon his face.

" As far as I am concerned, I’m much obliged
to you for your invitation,” Dick answered,
“but I hope on will excuse me. You know
that I don’t rink, and so no discourtesy is in-
tended by my refusal.

“You don’t like the idea of the marriage
though, do you?” the colonel exclaimed, planting
himself squarely in front of the youth, and sur—
veyin him with an evil eye.

“ ell, now, really, I don’t know as that is
any of your business,” the youth replied,
bluntly. “I haven’t made any objection that
I know of; and as far as my private thoughts
are concerned, those are my own property.”

“Oh, I s’pose it’s rather rough to take our
girl away from you, but such things will ap-
pen. The idea, gentlemen, of this young whe p
daring to lift his eyes to such a girl as ourfriend
Richardson’s daughter. Bah! she wouldn’t
wipe her feet on you!" Stoddard cried, taunt-
ingly, while all in the room looked on in won-
der, for they anticipated that these rude words
would lend to a quarrel.

“ Oh, she wouldn’t!” exclaimed Talbot, ban—
teringly, but at the same time a wild, fierce
look shone in his eyes. “Well, whether she
would or not, I can tell you one thing, and that
is, neither she nor any other woman will ever
get the chance; but, 1 say, colonel, how can on
marry anybody with that wife of yours in o—
bile, from whom you have never obtained a di-
vorce, although you have been separated for
years?”

Stoddard grew white in the face, and then
dark with rage.

The shot was entirel unexpected, and struck
home. He clinched is palms together, and
glared fiercely at the youth.

“ You lie, you scoundrel, you lie, and you
know you do!” and Stoddard, convulsed with
passion, shook his fist in Talbot’s face.

But the youth only laughed contemptuously.

He knew the game of the colonel as well as
though he had planned it himself.

Stoddard’s idea was to promke him intb strik-
ing a blow, then under the excuse of the assault,
the colonel could draw his revolver, and shoot
him down in cold bleed.

“ No lie, but truth, honest, gospel truth—and
that is the reason that you are so an ry about
the matter,” the youth replied. “ on are a
miserable old wretch, and you ought to be
ashamed of yourself to attempt to deceive a

oung and innocent girl. You know you can’t

egally marry her, and the ceremony will not
be anything but a fraud.”

Stoddard was fearfully exasperated. and de.
termined, since words did not‘seem to be of any
avail, to provoke the yOung man to attack him
by deeds, so that he would be enabled to get a
chance to use his pistol, and 50 end the matter.

“You young cub of Hades! I’ll wring your
nose offl‘ he cried, springing u 11 Talbot.

It was his intention to prove e a blow, for be
felt sure the youth would resent the insult.

The result more than justified his expecta-
tions, for he received a stroke such as never had
fallen upon his person before.

With a single powerful blow, planted squarely
between the eyes, Dick lifted the colonel from
his feet and hurled him backward as if he had
been shot.

Down went the colonel all in a heap and then
gasping for bieath and half-blinded from the
eflect of the terrible blow, he staggered to his
feet drawing his revolver and cocking it as he

rose.

And Talbot, perceiving the motion, also drew
his weapon and raised the hammer.

The lockers-on scattered.

Some, who were near the door, rushed out
into the street, others vaulted through the win<
dows, taking glass, sash and all with them in
their eager haste, a few found protection bl"
bind the her, over which they ea ed in hot
eagerness to get out of the way of t e bullets.

While a few almost paralyzed by fear crouch-
ed in the corners, glaring with staring eyes up—
on the scene.

Two men only held their places. the faithful
Yankee, who, recklem of danger, stood near to

 

“r

 

 

 _...

Young Dick Talbot.

15

 

 

catch Dick in case he should be hurt, and the old
hotel-keeper who gazed upon the contestants
with straining eyeballs.

The antagonists were not ten feet apart when
both flred simultaneousl . »

For the first ti" e in his life the veteran duel-
ist, Colonel Soddard, missed the mark for which
he aimed—the heart of his opponent; but the
terrible stroke he had received had dame I the
sight of both of his eyes and so rendered lS aim
uncsrtaiii. '

The bullet tore a hole through Talbot’s Side,
inflicting a flesh wound, painful but not at all
dangerous.

But ‘the leaden missile of our hero went as
true to its mark as the magnet is to the pole.

He had realized that it was a duel to the death,
and he had fired to kill.

It was either his life or the colonel’s, and in
self-defense he had slain his foe.

Stoddard stood erect for a moment after re-
ceiving the ball, his face like marble; be en-
deavored to raise the revolver for another shot,
forgetting that it was not cocked, then With a
slight gasp he fell forward on his face.

There was a moment’s pause, then, as the
fallen man did not stir, the lockers—on came
hurrying to his side. .

They turned him over on his back. I

He was stone dead, the ball had gone directly
through the heart. ' ‘ .

“ He’s gone I” exclaimed one of the miners,
who had been the first to examine the fallen

11“.

"I call upon you all to witness, gentlemen,
that this quarrel was forced upon me!" the
youth exclaimed, “ and that from the be inning
to the end I have acted strickly in self- etense.
l‘m sorry that I had to kill the man, but if
i hadn’t he would have ended me. It was
a square fight and I hope no man here will
say that I attempted to take any unfair advan-
ta e.”

‘g‘Yes, yes, a fair fight!” exclaimed half a
dozen of the bystanders and then the partners
Withdrew.

The duel was the talk of the town next day
and after the colonel was decently buried old
Richardson took into his head that a Vigilance
Committee ought to be raised to try Dick for
killing the colonel, but while he was tryin to
talk the matter up, the Yankee quietly on led
upon him in regard to a certain gmrty who had
lnvauted from Montgomery, labama, with
iimneys not his own, and the hotel-keeper was
glad to shut up. ‘

The camp really breathed freer after the
colonel’s death, all justified Dick’s actions, and
when a meeting was called to choose a new
alcalrie he was unanimously elected.

Stoddard’s mining claims were all sold at
auction, for as there wasn’t anybody to repre-
sent him, the miners took it upon themselves to
settle up his affairs.

'1?le and his partner secured one of the best
claims of the lot, and in a single month from
the time of the duel the two were on the high
road to prosperity. V

Old Richardson, too, said that if his daughter
took a fancy to Dick he should not object.

Reader the stor of a boy’s rough-and-
tumble life from ew York to California is
told, and so for the present we lay down the

pen.

I The after adventures of daring Dick Talbot
in the golden land from the time 9 become the
alcalde of Frenchman’s Flat until be tired by
the aide of the Reese River as Overlan Kit, we
may hereafter tell. ‘

 

 

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By

51 The Colorado Boys; or, Life on an Indigo Plantation.
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39

41

46

4'7 By

48

Joseph E. Badger, Jr.
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Charles Morris.
53 The Boy Detectives; or, The Young Californians in Shanghai.
By T. C. Harbaugh.
54 California Joe, the Mysterious Plainsman. By Col. Ingraham.
55 Harry Somers, the Sailor-Boy Magician. By S. W. Pearce.
56 Nobody’s Boys: or, Life Among the Gipsies. By J. M. Hoff
man. ‘-
57 Th e Menagerie Hunter; or, Fanny Hobart, the Animal
Queen. By Major H. Grenville, “ Sea Gull.” ,
58 Lame Tim, the Mule Boy of the Mines. By Charles Morris.
59 Lud Lionheels, the Young Tiger Fighter. By Roger Starbuck.
60 The Young Trail Hunters; or, New York Boys in Grizzly
v Land. By T. C. Harbaugh.
By C. Dunning Clark.
62 The Tiger Hunters; or, The Colorado Boys in Tigerlend.
By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.
63 The Adventurous Life of Captain Jack. the Border Boy. '
(John W. Crawford, the Poet Scout.) By 001. Prentiss Ingraham,
64 The Young’Moose-Hunters; or Trail and Campfire in thq
New Brunswmk Woods. By Wm. H. Manning. ' '
85 Black Horse Bill. the Bandit Wrecker; or, Two Brave Boy:
to the Rescue. By Roger Starbuck. ~ ‘ ~
66 Little Dan Rocks; or, The Mountain Kid’s Mission. B3
Morris Redwing. ‘
87' ’Longshore Lije: or, How a Rough Boy Won Bis Way.
C. unning Clark.
88 Platbont Fred; or, The Voyage of the “Eweriment.” By
Edward Willett.
89 The Deer-Hunters; or, Life in the Ottawa Country. B;
John J. Marshall. ' _
70 Kentucky Ben, the Long Rifle of the Plans; or, The Bw
Trappers of Oregon. By Roger Starbuck. ' ‘
'71 The Boy Pilot; or, The Island Wreckers. By Col. Ingmham.
'72 Young Dick Talbot. By Albert W. Aiken. -
’78 Pat Mulloney’s Adventures; or, Silver lt‘olzlgue, the Demtah
' Quoen. By C. L. Edwards.
'74 The Desert Rover; or, Stowaway Dick Among thembl.
By Charles Morris. , '
A New Issue Every Week.

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