“Alexander Filmore!” the young road-agent said, a terrible depth of meaning in his voice, that the cowering wretch could but understand.

“Alexander Filmore, you have at last come out and shown your true colors.  What a treacherous, double-dyed villain you are!  Better so; better that you should take the matter into your own hands and face the music, than to employ tools, as you have done heretofore.  I can fight a dozen enemies face to face better than one or two lurking in the bushes.”

The elder Filmore uttered a savage curse.

“You triumph now!” he growled, biting his nether lip in vexation; “but it will not always be thus.”

“Eh? think not?  I think I shall have to adopt you for awhile.  Boys, haul down the two, and bind them securely.”

Accordingly, a rush was made upon the stage, and the two outside passengers.  Down they were hauled, head over heels, and quickly secured by strong cords about the wrists and ankles.

This done, Deadwood Dick turned to Bill McGucken, who had ventured to clamber to the seat of the coach.

“Drive on, you cowardly lout—­drive on.  We’ve done with you for the present.  But, remember, not a word of this to the population of Deadwood, if you intend to ever make another trip over this route.  Now, go!”

Jehu needed not the second invitation.  He never was tardy in getting out of the way of danger:  so he picked up the reins, gave an extra hard crack of the long whip, and away rolled the jolting stage through the black canyon, disappearing a moment later around the bend, beyond which lay Deadwood—­magic city of the wilderness.

Then, out from the thicket the road-agents led their horses; the two prisoners were secured in the saddles in front of two brawny outlaws, and without delay the cavalcade moved down the gorge, weirdly illuminated by the mellow rays of the soaring moon.

* * * * *

Clarence Filmore had hoped that the report of his pistol-shots would reach Deadwood.  If so, his wishes were fulfilled.  The reports reached the barracks above Deadwood just as a horseman galloped up the hill—­Major R——­, just in from a carouse down at the “Met.”

“Halloo!” he shouted, loudly.  “To horse! there is trouble in the gorge.  The Sioux, under Sitting Bull, are upon us!”

As the major’s word was law at the barracks, in very short order the garrison was aroused, and headed by the major in person, a cavalcade of sleepy soldiers swept down the gorge toward the place whence had come the firing.

Wildly around the abrupt bend they dashed with yells of anticipated victory:  then there was a frightful collision between the incoming stage and the outgoing cavalry; the shrieks and screams of horses, the curses and yells of wounded men; and a general pandemonium ensued.

The coach, passengers, horses and all was upset, and went rolling down a steep embankment.