Deadwood Dicks Doom | Page 7

would have followed him in case of a split rather than the captain, who was of even a worse disposition than his bull-dog companion, for he was ever too ready to draw a weapon and shoot down a fellow at little or no offense.
Therefore when Shakespeare proposed to have a concert from the newly-arrived songsters, no one offered demur thereat, bemuse to arouse the ire of the burly bullwhacker, was to give the signal for a fight, "from the word go."
Therefore after supper, a gang headed by the festive Shakespeare, who had imbibed more "bootlegs" than was good for accurate locomotion, made a precipitate descent into the Poker House, and ordered the drinks, while the poet with his "smile" in hand, mounted the deal table nearest the bar, and addressed the uncouth assemblage around him:
"Feller-citizens! Noble representatives of the moral town o' Death Notch! It becomes my duty ter rise in front o' ye like a bellowin' buff'ler bull ter make an announcement. Ay, my noble guzzlers, I've a great bit o' news fer ye. We're on ther eve o' a great event. We have in our midst a human phenomen-as Shakespeare, Sr., sed:
'A maiden fair wi' voice like a dream-er,
She sings an' she plays -- s'e's a reg'lar screamer.'
Yes, ye long-eared pilgrims, yer 'umble sarvint has jest made the diskivery that Sara Bernhardt Nillson, the famous singer is hyer in Death Notch-she who has appeared afore all ther crowned heads o' Europe an' Ethiopia.
"An' what d're think, my noble councilmen and tax-payers? What d'ye surmise this distinguished singist perposes ter do? Why! thunderation, sirs! she calculates ter give our critical city o' Death Notch ther death shake, an' not open her vocal bugle short o' Hell-ener. Now, then, my prickly pears o' ther desert, I rise to promulgate the extemporaneous question-aire we ter be snubbed like this? Aire we to be cheated out o' heerin ther singist vocalize in our own aristocratic sphere? I say no! -- in clarion notes I scream nay! Sum immortal poet in past ages hez sed very skientifially
'It pleases mortal man ter feast-- Musick alone ter soothe ther savage beast;'
an' hyar's ther very beast as requires music ter anoint ther ragged volcanic edge o' his errupted buzzom. What d'ye ray, galoots- we invite ther gal ter favor us wi' some o' her fu'st class tunes?"
A cheer was the answer.
The idea was favored by all that rough assemblage.
"Then will I fotch forth ther great warbler from her conservatory!" the bullwhacker cried, and leaping from the table, and drawing a pair of revolvers, he left the room.
Up the stairs two steps at a time, he went and rapped at the door of Miss Verner's room, peremptorily.
The young woman opened it in great surprise her face paling as she saw the great gaunt bullwhacker.
"'Scuse me, mum," he said, bowing, "but ye see ther b'yees hev found out they ye're a singist, an' they allow thet ther likeliest thing ye kin do is ter comedown an' sing fer 'em. They're dead for music, and' tho, they're ruther a rough lot, ef ye sing yer purtiest, an' ther nigger too, I opine you'll be all right."
"Oh! sir, you must excuse me," Virgie cried in distress, "I cannot sing, to-night -- really I cannot."
"But you must, mum. Ye see how ther boys aire all on the squi vive ter heer ye vocalize, an' app'inted me as a delegate ter represent 'em an' say ef ye don't waltze down an' sing fer 'em, I am ter shoot ye on ther spot. Ye perseeve we're old business, we daisies o' Death Notch; when a mule gits balky we allus drap him wi'out any prelima'ary parley; thatfore, we allow thet ef ye edify us wi' a few songs, an' the nigger, too, yer safety will be an assured fact, an' ef ye don't, we'll hev ter speck fer a parson ter preech yer funeral sermon, ter-morrer."
"Oh! Nic, what shall we do?" Miss Verner said, turning to the darky, pale and trembling.
"What shall we do?"
"'Spec's de bestest t'ing we can do is to gub 'em some music, rather dan git de top of our heads blowed off. Bress dis yar Chile ef he's qwine to git in trouble when de banjo will git him out. Jos' you git youh gittar, Miss Virgie, an' I'se a raccoon if we can't stir 'em up."
"Perhaps you are right, Nic, but I wish we had never come here!" the girl said, as she procured a handsome guitar from her trunk, and then she and the darky, who was armed with a banjo, followed the bullwhacker down the stairs into the crowded bar-room.
A loud cheer greeted their advent, from the ruffian assemblage among whom were many of the most bold and lawless desperadoes on the border-men who had waded