Deadwood Dicks Doom | Page 3

dollars, mum, for I ain't in need o' tin. Ye kin git 'comydations Poker Jack's ranch, till next week, an' I allow ef ye kin flip ther boards right purty wi'out hidin' ther ace up yer sleeve, ther boys won't let ye git lonesum."
"I don't thank you for your assurance, sir!" was the haughty reply. "Come, Nic, let's see if we can get a room."
And they entered the office, which also served the purpose of bar and gambling-room.
A score or more of ruffian-looking fellows were lounging about, but one among the lot, more prepossessing than the rest, arose and came forward, as the two travelers entered.
He was dressed in white woolen garments, with white shirt and collar, slippers upon his feet, and a round red smoking-cap upon his head. In form he was of graceful build, while he was not bad-looking in face, except for a habitual wicked glitter of his black eyes, and a faint cynical expression which lurked under his graceful mustache.
"Excuse me, but did you wish to see me?" he said, on approaching.
"If you are the proprietor, yes, sir," the girl replied, a little timidly.
"Yas, if you be de boss, we'se gwine ter ax ye, hab youh proper 'commodations for two fust-class gusts?" the darky put in, with a considerable amount of airiness.
"No! no! not gust-you mean guest, Nic," the girl interrupted.
"Yas, guest-dat's it. Without purpotential precontemplation, I accidentally absented one bowel from de syllable. You sec, boss, as de stage done went off an' left us, we wants to engaged apartments an' superlative substance whereon to subsist for several days henceforeth until de next vehicle de perigrinates dis yar way."
"Ah! yes, I understand. You wish first-class accommodations, which I can furnish. My name is Poker Jack, at your service, and if you will register, I will show you to a couple of rooms."
They accordingly went to a desk and registered their names in a book kept for that purpose-the darky as "Nicodemus Johnsing, Star Comedian;" the young lady as
"Miss Vergie Verner, of New York."
Then Poker Jack escorted them to a suite of rudely-furnished rooms, up-stairs, just over the large bar and gambling-room.
"If you would be so kind, we would prefer our meals sent to our rooms," Miss Verner said.
"As you like, miss. Have you any baggage?"
"My baggage will be along on the freight wagon sir."
Then, Poker Jack bowed himself out.
After he had gone the girl called in the darky from the adjoining room.
"Nic," she said "we shall have trouble in is place, mark my word. All are men here, and the most evil, repulsive-looking lot I ever came across."
"'Spect you'se right, Miss Vergie but youh jes' bet youh life dey doesn't want to come foolin' around dis chile, or I'll carve 'em-cut 'em up, bad! I'se sum an' a half, when I'se mad!"
"But, allowing that we are both brave, what could we do against such overwhelming odds, should they offer to harm us? Oh, why did we venture here? We shall surely be followed by the human bloodhound, my enemy, and God only knows what evil he can do in this place, where the people look capable of any terrible crime. Oh! I am so tired, so weary of this hunted life."
The freight-wagon arrived soon after the stage, and unloaded two trunks in front of the Poker House.
Upon the end of one was pasted part of a theater bill, which read. "Miss Vergie Verner the charming vocalist and musician." On the other trunk was the other part of the proclaiming reading: "Nicodemus Johnsing, banjoist and dancer."
A crowd of bystanders stood, read, and pondered over these little announcements, Hank Shakespeare among the rest.
"Yas, sir-ee, bobtail hoss, b'yees, them's a pair o' show people, goin' ter Hell-ener, an' they reckon they kin slight us cusses hyar at Death Notch, by not hevin' their sarcus heer. But they ken't not fer Jim. I tell ye what! I purpose we trot 'em down inter ther bar-room o' Poker Jack's crib, ter-night, an' make 'em give us a show, as well as ther fellers at Hellener. What d'ye say?"
"Bulldog Ben barks yes," a little, disgusting-looking ruffian cried, and the whole gang chimed in assent.
Therefore, it was as good as settled that something was to occur.

CHAPTER II.
A COMPACT WITH THE DEVIL'S OWN.
ABOUT sunset of that same day, in a lonely gulch leading off from Death Notch, a young girl was wandering along with a basket upon her arm, now and then plucking a wild flower, and singing the while in spirit with the merry birds that warbled among the branches of the trees around her.
She was at a glance an Indian, but lighter complexioned than the average of her nation, betraying a mixture of white blood in her veins.
Attired in the picturesque garb of an Indian princess she looked decidedly pretty, with