Deadwood Dicks Doom | Page 7

will agree that for every person now in yonder town, a
death notch shall be made."
"Red Hatchet agrees. When he can count the death notches of all his
sworn enemies, and is free to go back to his once pretty village, he will
deliver Siska to the Devil Dwarf to do with as he pleases."
"Then call the girl. We will tap a vein in her arm, and seal this compact
with a draught of her blood!" the avenger said.
And an hour later the act was carried out to the letter.
Death Notch was doomed!

CHAPTER III.
THE STRANGERS SING.
HANK SHAKESPEARE was one of the ruling spirits of Death Notch,
inasmuch as he was the bully over all, and always ripe for a quarrel or a
spree.
One by one he had worsted each of the residents of the town, down to
the captain, Piute Dave, in a fair and square fight, and that fact had by
no means lessened his esteem of his own prowess, so that he was never
backward about waltzing right into a quarrel.
His word, next to that of Piute Dave, was regarded as law, and the
majority of the roughs 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