Deadwood Dick, The Prince of the Road | Page 8

on, gentlemen; don't let me be the means of spoiling your fun."
The gambler uttered a curse, and dealt out the pasteboards.
The youth was watching him intently, with his sharp black eyes.
He was of medium hight, straight as an arrow, and clad in a loose-fitting costume. A
broad sombrero was set jauntily upon the left side of his head, the hair of which had been
cut close down to the scalp. His face--a pleasant, handsome, youthful face--was devoid of
hirsute covering, he having evidently been recently handled by the barber.
The game between Mr. Redburn and the gambler progressed; the eyes of he whom we
have just described were on the card sharp constantly.
The cards went down on the table in vigorous slaps, and at last, Mr. Pilgrim Redburn
raked in the stakes.
"Thunder 'n' Moses!" ejaculated the sharp, pulling out his watch--an elegant affair, of

pure gold, and studded with diamonds--and laying it forcibly down upon the table.
"There! what will you plank on that!"
Redburn took up the time-piece, turned it over and over in his hands, opened and shut it,
gave a glance at the works, and then handed it over to the youth, whom he instinctively
felt was his friend. Redburn had come from the East to dig gold, and therefore was a
stranger in Deadwood.
"What is its money value?" he asked, familiarizing his tone. "Good, I suppose."
"Yes, perfectly good, and cheap at two hundred," was the unhesitating reply. "Do you
lack funds, stranger?"
"Oh! no. I am three hundred ahead of this cuss yet, and--"
"You'd better quit where you are!" said the other, decisively. "You'll lose the next round,
mark my word."
"Ha! ha!" laughed Redburn, who had begun to show symptoms of recklessness. "I'll take
my chances. Here, you gamin, I'll cover the watch with two hundred dollars."
Without more ado the stakes were planked, the cards dealt, and the game began.
The youth, whom we will call Ned Harris, was not idle.
He took the revolvers from the table, changed his position so that his face was just in the
opposite direction of what it had been, and commenced to pare his finger nails. The
fingers were as white and soft as any girl's. In his hand he also held a strangely-angled
little box, the sides of which were mirror-glass. Looking at his finger-nails he also looked
into the mirror, which gave a complete view of the card-sharp, as he sat at the table.
Swiftly progressed the game, and no one could fail to see how it was going by watching
the cunning light in the gambler's eye. At last the game-card went down, and next instant,
after the sharp had raked in his stakes, a cocked revolver in either hand of Ned Harris
covered the hearts of the two players.
"Hello!" gasped Redburn, quailing under the gaze of a cold steel tube--"what's the row,
now?"
"Draw your revolver!" commanded Harris, sternly, having an eye on the card-sharp at the
same time, "Come! don't be all night about it!"
Redburn obeyed; he had no other choice.
"Cock it and cover your man!"
"Who do you mean?"

"The cuss under my left-hand aim."
Again the "pilgrim" felt that he could not afford to do otherwise than obey.
So he took "squint" at the gambler's left breast after which Harris withdrew the siege of
his left weapon, although he still covered the young Easterner, the same. Quietly he
moved around to where the card-sharp sat, white and trembling.
"Gentlemen!" he yelled, in a clear, ringing voice, "will some of you step this way a
moment?"
A crowd gathered around in a moment: then the youth resumed:
"Feller-citizens, all of you know how to play cards, no doubt. What is the penalty of
cheating, out here in the Hills?"
For a few seconds the room was wrapt in silence; then a chorus of voices gave answer,
using a single word:
"Death!"
"Exactly," said Harris, calmly. "When a sharp hides cards in Chinaman fashion up his
sleeve, I reckon that's what you call cheatin', don't you?"
"That's the size of it," assented each bystander, grimly.
Ned Harris pressed his pistol-muzzle against the gambler's forehead, inserted his fingers
in each of the capacious sleeves, and a moment later laid several high cards upon the
table.
A murmur of incredulity went through the crowd of spectators. Even "pilgrim" Redburn
was astonished.
After removing the cards, Ned Harris turned and leveled his revolver at the head of the
young man from the East.
"Your name?" he said, briefly, "is--"
"Harry Redburn."
"Very well. Harry Redburn, that gambler under cover of your pistol is guilty of a crime,
punishable in the Black Hills by death. As you are his victim--or, rather, were to be--it
only remains for