Deadwood Dicks Doom | Page 2

House
was the only hostelry afforded transient patronage at Death Notch.
"Change kees fer Helena!" yelled out Buck Piper, the driver, and then
he threw the ribbons to one of the several bleary-eyed-looking pilgrims
who were standing in front of the tavern sunning themselves, and made
for the "licker" department to moisten his throat, leaving his "fares" to
take care of themselves,

There were but two passengers to-day and they at once disembarked
from the stage, upon the plank wall in front of the Poker House.
They were widely at contrast, in appearance, though evidently traveling
companions, the one being a pretty young lady, while the other was a
long-goared, loosely constructed colored man, of the "darkest ray
serene."
The young lady evidently was not over seventeen or eighteen years of
age, but was the possessor of a fine figure, and prettily chiseled features,
set off by starry black eyes, and wavy brown hair. She was attired with
a long ulster duster over her dress, a silk scarf about her throat, and a
vailed hat upon her head, and was by all odds the trimmest little craft
that had anchored in Death Notch in many a day. The darky was a very
sable individual, with a genuine negro physique from the thick-lipped
mouth of huge dimensions, to the rolling ludicrous eyes, and light
curling hair. His feet, too, were of extraordinary size, while the rest of
his person seemed hastily constructed and loose-pointed in the extreme.
He was attired in wide-legged plaid pantaloons, too short at the waist
and feet by half a foot; a white vest and white shirt, with wide cuffs and
collar, a swallow-tailed coat cut tight at the waist and a white silk hat
somewhat the worse for bad usage.
In his hand be carried a bag containing an instrument shaped very much
like a banjo the young lady earned a small hand sachel.
On leaving the stage-coach, the strangely-contrasted pair paused a
moment as if in doubt which way to go, and the young lady turned to
one of the low-browed, villainous-looking pilgrims lounging on a
bench before the tavern.
"Can you tell me, sir, how long before the stage will leave for Helena?"
she asked, in a pleasant voice.
"No, mum, I reckon not," the addressed party said, "'ca'se how I don't
kno'. Thar comes Hank Shakespeare, the poet, however-mebbe he ken
put ye onter what yer wanter know."

And he indicated a tall, raw-boned individual who was approaching-a
man who looked as though he might be the possessor of a great deal of
brute strength and dogged courage, especially the latter, for he was
swarthy and ugly of countenance, wearing a stubble of beard and long
matted hair, while his brows were shaggy and his eyes evil and
bloodshot.
He was attired in stogy boots, dirty patched overalls and overshirt a
battered, shapeless "plug" hat, minus the rim, while in a belt about his
waist he wore four large-sized revolvers and a bowie.
Anything but a poet, looked the big bullwhacker, and the young lady
was discussing, no doubt, this when he came up, and paused to take a
survey of her the coon.
"Hello! a nigger and a gal, hey! Waal,
"Let's all shout an' rejoice!
We heer a female's voice."
How'dy do, mum? Goin' ter settle here? We're just needin' a woman, in
this hyar camp, 'ca'se how, ye see, when ther b'yees wanter go courtin'
they've got ter court one another."
"No. I am not going to settle here," the young woman replied, quite
promptly." I wish to find out what time the stage leaves for Helena!"
"Hell-ener! Why, Bless ye, mum, ther next stage won't go fer a week, I
allow, 'ca'se how she started six hours ago. No stage 'fore next
Wednesday, sure."
An exclamation of disappointment escaped the young lady.
"Oh! That is too bad! I wouldn't have missed reaching Helena for a
good deal. Is there no way I can overtake the stage, sir?"
"Reckon not, miss, onless ye hoof et, an' I opine ye wouldn't ketch et,
then. Ef yer feet war as large as ther nigger's I reckon ye might do it for

E'en Dexter could not compete
Wi' thet fragrant coon's feet '-
and stand any show o' winnin' ther heat.
No, mum, I allow yer best holt is ter stop right hyar in Death Notch, till
next stage."
"I cannot afford to-it seems I must reach Helena one way or another.
Cannot we hire saddle-horses-or purchase them, even-in order that we
may overtake the stage?"
"Nary a boss. Ther only thing wi' four legs, 'cept Piper's team, is a pair
o' oxen."
At this juncture the thirsty Piper appeared upon the scene, wiping his
mouth from a recent lubrication in the shape of a bootleg.