Struggling Upward, or Luke Larkin's Luck, Jr. Horatio Alger [spiritual books to read txt] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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"Drop that pocketbook!" he exclaimed, "or I'll send another messenger for it; that was only a warning!"
With an execration the thoroughly terrified robber threw down the pocketbook, and the relieved owner hastened forward to pick it up.
"I thought I'd fetch him, don't you know," said the dude, relapsing into his soft drawl.
By this time both the road agents were at a safe distance, and the rescued passengers breathed more freely.
"Really, Mr. Sprague," said Colonel Braddon, pompously, "you are entitled to a great deal of credit for your gallant behavior; you did what I proposed to do. Of course, I had to submit to losing my pocketbook, but I was just preparing to draw my revolver when you got the start of me."
"If I'd only known it, colonel," drawled Mr. Sprague, "I'd have left the job for you. Weally, it would have saved me a good deal of trouble. But I think the reverend doctor here is entitled to the thanks of the company. I never knew exactly what the sword of the Lord and of Gideon was before, but I see it means a good, stout stick."
"I was speaking figuratively, my young friend," said the missionary "I am not sure but I have acted unprofessionally, but when I saw those men of violence despoiling us, I felt the natural man rise within me, and I smote him hip and thigh."
"I thought you hit him on the arm, doctor," said Mr. Sprague.
"Again I spoke figuratively, my young friend. I cannot say I regret yielding to the impulse that moved me. I feel that I have helped to foil the plans of the wicked."
"Doctor," said one of the miners, "you've true grit. When you preach at the Black Hills, count me and my friends among the listeners. We're all willing to help along your new church, for you're one of the right sort."
"My friends, I will gladly accept your kind proposal, but I trust it will not be solely because I have used this arm of flesh in your defense. Mr. Sprague and I have but acted as humble instruments in the hands of a Higher Power."
"Well, gentlemen," said Colonel Braddon, "I think we may as well get into the stage again and resume our journey."
"What shall I do with this revolver?" asked Luke, indicating the one he had picked up.
"Keep it," said the colonel. "You'll make better use of it than the rascal who lost it."
"I've got an extra one here," said Mortimer Sprague, raising the one on which he had put his foot. "I don't need it myself, so I will offer it to the reverend doctor."
The missionary shook his head.
"I should not know how to use it," he said, "nor indeed am I sure that I should feel justified in doing so."
"May I have it, sir?" asked one of the miners.
"Certainly, if you want it," said Mr. Sprague.
"I couldn't afford to buy one; but I see that I shall need one out here."
In five minutes the stage was again on its way, and no further adventures were met with. About the middle of the next day the party arrived at Deadwood.
CHAPTER XXXIV — FENTON'S GULCH
Deadwood, at the time of Luke's arrival, looked more like a mining camp than a town. The first settlers had neither the time nor the money to build elaborate dwellings. Anything, however rough, that would provide a shelter, was deemed sufficient. Luxury was not dreamed of, and even ordinary comforts were only partially supplied. Luke put up at a rude hotel, and the next morning began to make inquiries for Mr. Harding. He ascertained that the person of whom he was in search had arrived not many weeks previous, accompanied by his sister. The latter, however, soon concluded that Deadwood was no suitable residence for ladies, and had returned to her former home, or some place near by. Mr. Harding remained, with a view of trying his luck at the mines.
The next point to be ascertained was to what mines he had directed his steps. This information was hard to obtain. Finally, a man who had just returned to Deadwood, hearing Luke making inquiries of the hotel clerk, said:
"I say, young chap, is the man you are after an old party over fifty, with gray hair and a long nose?"
"I think that is the right description," said Luke, eagerly. "Can you tell me anything about him?"
"The party I mean, he may be Harding, or may be somebody else, is lying sick at Fenton's Gulch, about a day's journey from here—say twenty miles."
"Sick? What is the matter with him?"
"He took a bad cold, and being an old man, couldn't stand it as well as if he were twenty years younger. I left him in an old cabin lying on a blanket, looking about as miserable as you would want to see. Are you a friend of his?"
"I am not acquainted with him," answered Luke, "but I am sent out by a friend of his in the East. I am quite anxious to find him. Can you give me directions?"
"I can do better. I can guide you there. I only came to Deadwood for some supplies, and I go back to-morrow morning."
"If you will let me accompany you I will be very much obliged."
"You can come with me and welcome. I shall be glad of your company. Are you alone?"
"Yes."
"Seems
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