Deadwood Dick, The Prince of the Road eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 132 pages of information about Deadwood Dick, The Prince of the Road.

In passing through the kitchen, Redburn saw that Anita was up and waiting.

“Come!” he said, seizing a hatchet and stake, “we are about to discover the gold-mine, and our fortunes;” with a merry laugh.

Then both followed in the wake of the sleep walker, and were led to near the center of the valley, which was but a few steps in the rear of the cabin.  Here was a bed of sand washed there from an overflow of the stream, and at this the “General” pointed, as he came to a halt.

“There! there is the gold—­millions of it deep down—­twenty or thirty feet—­in sand—­easy to get! dig!  DIG!  DIG!”

Redburn marked the spot by driving the stake in the ground.

It now only remained to dig in the soil to verify the truth of the old man’s fancy.


[Footnote A:  A fact.]



Rumbling noisily through the black canyon road to Deadwood, at an hour long past midnight, came the stage from Cheyenne, loaded down with passengers, and full five hours late, on account of a broken shaft, which had to be replaced on the road.  There were six plunging, snarling horses attached, whom the veteran Jehu on the box, managed with the skill of a circusman, and all the time the crack! snap! of his long-lashed gad made the night resound as like so many pistol reports.

The road was through a wild tortuous canyon, fringed with tall spectral pines, which occasionally admitted a bar of ghostly moonlight across the rough road over which the stage tore with wild recklessness.

Inside, the vehicle was crammed full to its utmost capacity, and therefrom emanated the strong fumes of whisky and tobacco smoke, and stronger language, over the delay and the terrible jolting of the conveyance.

In addition to those penned up inside, there were two passengers positioned on top, to the rear of the driver, where they clung to the trunk railings to keep from being jostled off.

One was an elderly man, tall in stature and noticeably portly, with a florid countenance, cold gray eyes, and hair and beard of brown, freely mixed with silvery threads.  He was elegantly attired, his costume being of the finest cloth and of the very latest cut:  boots patent leathers, and hat glossy as a mirror; diamonds gleamed and sparkled on his immaculate shirt-bosom, on his fingers and from the seal of a heavy gold chain across his vest front.

The other personage was a counterpart of the first to every particular, save that while one was more than a semi-centenarian to years, the other was barely twenty.  The same faultless elegance in dress, the same elaborate display of jewels, and the same haughty, aristocratic bearing produced in one was mirrored to the other.

They were father and son.

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Deadwood Dick, The Prince of the Road from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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