Deadwood Dick Jr. Branded: or, Red Rover at Powder Pocket.

"You have given me your life," he said; "what can I do for you in return?"

"Give me your protection," was the response.

"You shall have that, to the death."

"And let me aid you in your revenge against that monster. Ugh! how I hate him now!"

"But, he is your husband – "

"No, no, he was not my husband; I am free, as free as a bird. I loved him, and would have wed him, but I am thankful my eyes were opened before I was linked to him for life."

"Then you desire to escape him now?"

"Heavens! he would murder me now, after what I have done. Yes, yes, I desire to escape; I want you to protect me."

"Enough said," agreed Dick, giving her another embrace and releasing her. "I'll try and do something in return for the risk you have taken for me, and together we will hunt him down."

"At once?"

"No, we will let him feel secure for a time, and the blow will be all the greater when it falls. But – "

"What?"

"Are you to be depended on?"

"To be depended on? I do not understand you, sir."

"Call me Dick. I mean, will you hold out to the end, when it comes to the test?"

"Will I hold out – "

"Perhaps your love will rekindle, and you will balk my revenge when it comes to the hour – "

"No, no, a thousand times no! My hate is even more intense than was my love. No, no, I will not falter; I am now yours, if you will let me be yours, and our purpose is one."

"It is a bargain," said Dick. "Here is my hand, little pard."

The girl placed her hand in his.

"Hands up! both of ye!"

The voice was so near that both were startled, and Dick felt a gun behind his ear.

It was so sudden that Dick obeyed before the thought came to him to resist, but perhaps it was as well, for that might have meant his instant death.

"It is Booth!" cried the girl in dismay. "We are lost – lost!"

"Bet yer life ye are," said the man. "Ye forgot to reckon me, I guess. Et took me a good while to worm up into that peak by the crevice inside and take this galoot by surprise, and et has took me a good while to git down again, but hyer I am and hyer you be, too."

"And what do you expect to do with us?" asked Dick, grimly.

"Take ye straight to Captain Joaquin, of course."

"Never!" said the young woman.

"I'll show ye. You turn – Ugghh!"

Deadwood Dick's foot had suddenly caught the fellow in the middle, and over he went with a grunt terrific.

No sooner had he fallen than the girl was upon him, and her knife was buried in his breast, straight and true, and the cutthroat stiffened out to rise no more.

"There is one less," she said, rising. "I never killed a human before, but I would kill a score rather than be taken back to that man. Thank heaven, we are free yet, Dick. Do you want further proof of my devotion to you? Can you ask it?"

"I did not ask anything more than your word, Susana. You are a pard worth having. We will hang this fellow to the tree where they hanged me, and should they come this way again they will believe that Deadwood Dick is still there where they left him, and the surprise will be all the greater when the blow falls, as fall it must."

CHAPTER XV.

BANKER BROWN OF POWDER POCKET

Meantime, Captain Joaquin had gone straight to the cabin.

He believed that Susana would go there to gather up some effects before trying to run away.

Of course he knew, or believed, that the shot had been fired at him by her, and that only confirmed the suspicion he had formed against her.

Had he caught her, a horrible fate would have been hers. Smarting under the wound she had given him – for the bullet had lodged in his shoulder – he was in the right mood to wreak vengeance.

But he failed to find her.

There was no sign of her at the cabin, no indication that she had been there – in fact, the servants declared that she had not been there.

Back he started, and had gone but a little way when he met his men coming, and he scattered them all to look for the missing young woman, with orders to take her dead or alive.

They went out by the various trails – rather possible avenues, for there were no trails proper there, but they failed to find her. And when Captain Joaquin and two of the men came out at the place where Dick had been hanged, they found his body swaying to and fro in the breeze.

Nor was she found. And when, later on in the night, others of the band came in in haste with certain intelligence concerning the sheriff and his posse, Captain Joaquin deserted his cabin and took to the hills, and was not seen in that section again. On the following day the cabin was discovered and looted and burned, but the birds had flown.

Meanwhile, Deadwood Dick, with Susana, was making his way to the south, keeping to the hills in order not to be discovered.

Dick wanted it to appear that he was dead.

He learned enough from Susana to give him a suspicion as to what Captain Joaquin would do, and he felt that he could afford to give him time.

They crossed the border into Mexico, where Dick quietly rested for a season to recover his full measure of health and strength, and where Susana was his devoted slave and companion.

Inquiry was being made in every direction for Deadwood Dick.

It was known that the last case he had undertaken was the hunting down of Captain Joaquin, or the Red Rover, and it was feared that he had met his death at the hands of that cutthroat and this band.

Dick remained in hiding, and thus Captain Joaquin, wherever he might be, would be lulled into the confirmation of his belief that Deadwood Dick was no longer to be feared. In fact, that worthy was chuckling to himself, whenever a newspaper item concerning Dick met his eye. He believed that he alone, and those of his men who had been in the secret, could solve the mystery.

And so time passed on.

Powder Pocket was a roaring camp.

It was at the top notch of the biggest kind of a boom.

It had been a paying camp from the first, with rich mines on every hand.

New finds, too, were being reported almost daily, and people and money were flowing in as freely as water flowed down from the snow-capped peaks.

The newest institution of which Powder Pocket could boast was a bank. It was a private concern, had been opened on a grand scale, and was being conducted on a paying basis. Money could be had in almost any amount, on big interest and bigger security.

The head of this institution was one Sigmund Brown.

He had come to Powder Pocket about six months prior to the time of this introduction of the camp.

Settling down quietly, he had rented one of the best buildings in the place, refitted it in fine style, and one morning his sign was found adorning the front – S. Brown, Banker.

He had a game in contemplation.

He had money, the other fellows had the property. They could not do anything without money.

His money was on call, as said, but every loan was vouched for by an iron-clad mortgage, and it was his boast that in five years he would own the town.

The interest was high, the loan was not sufficient, in most cases, to develop beyond the mere beginnings, and on the day when the interest could not be met nor the principal paid, he would foreclose.

He was there to double – to treble his pile, and he made no secret among his intimates of his means.

One day a miner entered his private office in an excited state.

The private office was always open to those who came on particular business, and this man had announced that his business was of the utmost importance.

The clerks in the main room had seen his kind before, often, and he was readily admitted. He was, undoubtedly, a man who had struck it rich and was eager to mortgage and begin working the claim.

He was a bearded fellow, roughly clad, and was begrimed from hat to boots with mud and clay.

"You aire Mr. Brown?" he eagerly demanded.

"Yes, sir, I am Mr. Brown. What can I do for you, sir?"

"I have struck it rich – so all-fired rich that it has 'most turned my head. I want you to look at my find, which I have registered all correct, and lend me a loan on it so I kin open et up."

"That so? I congratulate you. Where does it lie?"

"Hardly out of gunshot from the camp, and it is the prince of 'em all, I'm bettin'."

"It will be a pleasure to me to look at it, the first opportunity, and if it is what you think, there will be no trouble about your getting a loan, I guess."

"No trouble at all, I'm bettin'. You will open yer eyes when ye see et."

"What do you consider it worth?"

"Seventy-five thousand, if a cent."

"And how much of a loan would you want?"

"Twenty-five thousand – "

"Whew!"

"What's the matter?"

"That is steep. I have never gone over ten thousand into the best of them."

"But I tell ye this is the best of the bunch. You will say so when ye see it, and you won't hesitate a minnit to fork et over, either."

"I must see it first of all. In a day or two – "

"Can't wait. I am in a fever. You must come with me to-day – right now!"

"Impossible; I can't – "

"I will pay ye, boss. Why, it opens up bigger'n that Castleville Bank shelled out a year ago, and I ain't hardly cracked the ground yet."

The banker had become suddenly pale.

He was a man with long hair, and wore a mustache and goatee, and was altogether a good-looking man.

"What do you mean?" he asked, huskily, striving hard to remain composed. "Where is Castleville? What do you suppose I know about any bank business at Castleville?"

"Castleville? Why, they closed the bank, you know, and set out to remove the funds to 'Frisco, but Captain Joaquin got wind of it and held up the train and scooped the pile. Not only that, but it is believed that he murdered a detective about the same time."

"A detective?"

"Yes; a chap they called Deadwood Dick."

The man's face had grown paler, and he was eyeing the caller sharply.

"Well, all that is nothing to me," he declared. "I will go with you to-morrow morning, start at eight o'clock."

"And then I'll show you the richest thing you ever saw in your life, if Captain Joaquin don't gobble it mean time and get away with et – Why, what's the matter?"

The banker's face was deathly.

"Nothing," he answered. "I am not exactly well to-day. Come in the morning, and I will be prepared to go with you. Then, when I have had the property passed upon by experts, your loan will be advanced. You must excuse me, but I am very busy to-day – Great heavens!"

CHAPTER XVI.

THE FIRST BLOW STRUCK

The caller had suddenly torn the beard from his face and flung it to the floor.

It was the face of Deadwood Dick, handsome, grim, and he looked the quailing banker in the eyes as he stood before him.

"Do you know me, Joaquin Escala?" he demanded.

"N – no, I do not know you. And you call me by a name not my own. Leave my office."

"You fail to recognize me, Captain Joaquin? Then I must show you a proof of identity that you cannot fail to recognize. Behold!"

Deadwood Dick tore open his shirt and exposed the brand of a horseshoe.

There it was, never to be effaced, the brand of a horseshoe that had seared itself into the living flesh.

The man at the desk started to rise, but could not do so; he was like one partly paralyzed and partly bereft of reason. He could only stare.

"Well, I see you recognize me now," said Dick.

"I deny it," was the gasped response. "You are a crazy man. You are a lunatic. Leave my office, or I will not be responsible for your life – "

"Hold! If you reach for a gun, or attempt to call assistance, it will signal your instant death, Red Rover. You and I have a little account to settle and we must have a chat."

"I tell you you are mistaken."

"I know that I am not. Let us not dwell upon that, but come right to the point. You cannot hope to make me doubt what I know to be a fact. Now, what vengeance do you suppose I will take upon you for this?"

"I tell you you are making a mis – "

"I made one mistake once with you, but will not make another. You left me for dead, but Providence was not done with me yet – nor with you."

Perspiration was standing out upon the man's forehead.

"How can I convince you – "

"That you are not Captain Joaquin?"

"Yes, yes."

"Bare your right arm, and if it contains no scar, around from the shoulder and diagonally to the elbow, then you are not Captain Joaquin."

"Curse her! it was Susana told you that!"

"Now, perhaps we can come to business. I will sit down, and you will observe silence and keep your hands in plain sight on your desk."

Dick had a gun in hand, and was ready to use it instantly.

"We must come to terms," said the banker.

"And those terms will be mine," said Dick.

"Name them, then."

"Give me, in funds, the amount that was taken from the express train that day."

"Good heavens! it is more than I have got at my command on short notice like this. I could not do it if my life depended on it."

"Your life does depend on it."

"I must have time."

"You have just time to produce it, no more."

There was a steely glitter in Deadwood Dick's eyes.

This ex-outlaw quailed before him, and Dick saw that he would yield to the demand.

"I must speak to my cashier," he said.

"Not necessary," said Dick.

"Otherwise I cannot procure the funds – "

"It will not go down, sir. I will step with you into the other room, and there you will open the safe and hand out the amount."

A look of relief came suddenly into the entrapped outlaw's eyes.

Deadwood Dick read his thought. A smile curled his lips as he thought of the further surprise in store for the rascal if he acted upon the idea that had come into his mind.

"I will do that," said the outlaw.

"Very well, get up and precede me."

The man rose from his chair, taking care not to let it appear that he had any thought of reaching for a weapon.

He believed – he knew that would signal his instant death, after the treacherous manner in which he had dealt with Deadwood Dick on the former occasion, and he could not risk it.

Going to the door, he opened it, and the instant it was opened he leaped out, shouting:

"A robber! Shoot him!"

A woman was before him.

Strange men were in possession of the bank. Each of them had a badge on his breast.

Captain Joaquin looked around him in dismay, and his face turned even more deathly pale than ever, if possible.

The woman was Susana.

She was pale, but her face was determined.

With a quick movement the rascal reached for a pistol, but Deadwood Dick was upon him instantly.

"No you don't," he cried. "Whether you meant to shoot her or yourself, is all the same. Neither life can be spared just yet. Johnson, disarm him."

One of the deputies stepped forward and did so.

The clerks in the bank looked on with open-mouthed amazement. And as each of them had a man over him with a gun, they believed it to be a robbery.

As soon as relieved of his weapons, the fellow was allowed to go, and Dick again ordered him to produce the money from the safe, or order his cashier to do so in his stead.

He refused to obey.

"Then we must help ourselves," said Dick. "Bryce, you were express-agent at that time, and know the sum that was sent from the Castleville bank that day. Take the same sum from this safe now."

Another of the deputies stepped forward and entered the safe for the purpose.

He brought forth bundle after bundle of the funds, until he had the required amount in a pile on the nearest table.

"Is that right?" asked Dick.

"Yes, according to the markings."

"And that is no doubt correct. Pack it up for transportation."

This the man proceeded to do, with the utmost care and security, and at last it was done and they were ready to depart.

"Now, Mr. Brown," said Deadwood Dick, then, "we will take our leave. You know the justice of this visit, and why we have withdrawn by force a certain deposit that was in your hands."

"Curse you!"

"We can go further, but the time is not ripe. This is only the beginning of your retribution."

"You are robbers! This is only a trick to serve your purpose! I will have a posse after you within ten minutes after your departure!"

"Will you?"

"I swear it!"

"Then perhaps we had better end the business now. Shall I arrest you, make known your true name here, and let the citizens of this camp deal with you as you deserve?"

"Go, and make the best of what you have got. We will meet again some day, and then – "

"And then," said Dick, grimly.

He gave his men a signal and they left the room, then Susana, and last of all, Dick.

At the door he stopped for a last word with the outlaw, upon whom had fallen the first blow of a just vengeance.

"This is but the beginning," Dick said. "You know what to expect at my hands. I have drawn a cordon around you that you cannot hope to escape, and it is only a matter of time."

"Ha! I know you now!" was the last desperate ruse. "You are Captain Joaquin, the outlaw!"

"Perhaps I am," said Dick.

He withdrew, and went down the street. Susana was with him.

The others, somehow, had disappeared already, and after these two turned a corner, they, too, were seen no more.

It was as if the very earth had opened and taken them in. And when, a little later, the hue and cry of a daylight robbery was raised, not a vestige of the robbers could be found.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE SECOND BLOW FALLS

Powder Pocket was all excitement.

Banker Brown declared it was Captain Joaquin who had made the raid.

Not that he knew that worthy by sight, but so, he declared, the robber chief had admitted in private.

The clerks could not dispute this, although their impression had been that the persons who made the raid were regular officers of the law, and their side of the story got out.

This, the banker averred, had been but a clever trick, in case of discovery by citizens during the time they were in the bank. It had been one of the most remarkable bank robberies on record. The bank, however, could stand it, Mr. Brown declared, and would not close its doors.

About a month prior to this time there had come to Powder Pocket a man who called himself Card-Sharp Cale.

Who he was, more than that, no one knew.

He was very dark of skin, almost as swarthy as an Ethiopian, had long hair and a beard of almost equal length.

With him was a younger man, his brother, of similar complexion, some years the junior of the other and beardless, save for a slender mustache that became him well.

These two had opened a gaming establishment.

It was a place where faro ruled, and their bank was declared to be practically limitless.

After a consultation with Banker Brown, on coming to Powder Pocket, this Card-Sharp Cale had deposited fifty thousand dollars in Brown's bank, subject to order.

It had been no uncommon thing for checks of from five to twenty thousand to be presented there of a morning, but the deposits, as a rule, had been greater than the withdrawals, and so, at the time of the robbery, Card-Sharp Cale had about a hundred thousand dollars on deposit.

On the morning after the robbery he dropped in at the bank.

"How is your concern after your loss?" he made inquiry, when greetings had been exchanged.

"It is all right," was the answer. "I have plenty of funds on hand yet that the devils did not find. They took only what was in sight."

"I understand they demanded a certain sum."

"Yes, so they did. They thought that was my pile. That, by the way, was the capital I started with, and they must have heard of it in some manner. But I have doubled it since, to say nothing of your big deposit, and others."

"Then you are ready to meet big checks?"

"Yes, we are all right."

"Because, as I was going to say, luck went against me last night and my bank went broke."

The banker paled.

"You don't mean it?"

"Yes. My checks are out to the tune of some sixty thousand dollars."

"Whew! Beaten at your own game. This is serious; I must find out just what we have got on hand at once."

He went into the outer room, and his caller smiled as the door closed after him. There was something familiar about that smile, now that Card-Sharp Cale was alone.

When the banker returned his face was like death.

"I am in a hole," he declared. "A check has just been paid to the tune of thirty-four thousand, and there is not five thousand left on hand."

"This is serious, Mr. Brown. I have got to have my balance, or I shall have to close my game to-night for want of funds. You must gather in all you can and make me whole."

"What is your balance, less this check I speak of?"

"It must be fifty thousand."

"I can't do it, on short notice; you will have to give me time. Will you force me to the wall?"

"You can pay or you cannot pay, and in the latter case you are at the wall already. There is nothing for me to do in the matter; I must have what is due me."

"Give me a week."

"Impossible! Think of the loss to me."

"Then give me three days – two days, one! I tell you I am unable to meet your demand."

"You must close your doors, then."

"And that will ruin me."

"You are ruined already."

"And you will not spare me?"

"How can I, and why should I?"

"As one man to another, you should."

"And see my own business ruined. No, no; that is not business, as business goes. I must have what is due me; and, besides my deposit I have been accepting papers of yours, believing them to be perfectly good, and they will make up a nice sum."

Brown wiped the perspiration from his face.

"What can I do?" he asked.

"There is only one thing you can do."

"And that is – "

"Convey your property here to me for security."

"And go forth a beggar?"

"Can I help that?"

"Be merciful."

"Do you show mercy?"

"I would, were our positions changed."

"What about that loan made to Hiram Smith which you foreclosed only a few days ago?"

"He is a beat; he never meant to pay."

"I do not believe that. Had I known of it in time I would have saved him. For a few paltry hundreds you scooped in his property worth thousands."

"That was business; he could not pay, and – "

"Ah! you see where you are, don't you? This is business, as I said. It is your own kind of business. Can you square accounts with me, Mr. Brown, if I give you an hour?"

"Impossible."

"Then I must take possession here, and will send at once for the proper authorities."

"You will take charge? By what right?"

"By the right of might."

"You cannot trust me, then, an hour?"

"Not a minute. Practically, you are my prisoner."

The ex-outlaw flushed, and his hand sought his hip, but he was covered in a trice by a brace of guns.

"No you don't!" was the cry. "Bring that hand up from there, and bring it up empty, too! Call in your chief clerk and tell him to close the bank and put up a notice!"

"I dare not; the people will mob me if I do that."

At that moment the door opened, and the cashier looked in, taking in the situation.

"A check for thirty thousand dollars, sir!" he said.

"It is yours," said Brown, turning appealingly to Card-Sharp Cale.

"I suppose it is."

"Can't you hold it back and give me a chance?"

"Not a minute. You have my money on demand; meet my paper or take the consequence."

"But, the robbery."

"Your loss, not mine."

"I could kill you, curse you!"

"Not a doubt of it; you have tried that before."

Instantly the man was upon his feet, and his visitor removed his long, curling beard.

Lo! it was Dick Bristol again! No mistaking that face, even though stained, as we have described. He smiled, and his revolvers covered the rascal's heart.

The cashier might have tried to interfere, but at that moment into the room slipped Card-Sharp Cale's brother, "Joe," he was called, and he, too, had a pair of guns in hand. And Joaquin Escala, utterly overcome, sank cowering upon his chair.