Do and Dare — a Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune

by Jr. Horatio Alger

  We pass over several days, and change the scene. We left Herbert andMelville in the Palmer House in Chicago, surrounded by stately edificesand surging crowds. Now everything is changed. They are in a mountainousdistrict, where a man might ride twenty miles without seeing a house.They are, in fact, within the limits of what was then known as theTerritory of Colorado. It is not generally known that Colorado containsover a hundred mountain summits over ten thousand feet above the sealevel. It is perhaps on account of the general elevation that it isrecommended by physicians as a good health resort for all who aretroubled with lung complaints.

  At the time of which I speak most of the traveling was done by stage.Now railroads unite the different portions with links of steel, and maketraveling less cumbersome and laborious. There was one of the party,however, who did not complain, but rather enjoyed the jolting of thelumbering stage-coach.

  Col. Warner was of the party. He professed to feel an extraordinaryinterest in George Melville, and was anxious to show him the countrywhere he had himself regained his health.

  "Lonely, sir!" repeated the colonel, in answer to a remark of GeorgeMelville. "Why, sir, it's a populous city compared with what it was in'55, when I was out here. I built myself a cabin in the woods, and oncefor twelve months I didn't see a white face."

  "Were there many Indians, Colonel?" asked Herbert.

  "Indians? I should say so. Only twenty miles from my cabin was an Indianvillage."

  "Did they trouble you any?" asked Herbert, curiously.

  "Well, they tried to," answered the colonel. "One night as I lay awake Iheard stealthy steps outside, and peeping through a crevice between thelogs just above the head of my bed--by the way, my bed was the skin ofa bear I had myself killed--I could see a string of Utes preparing tobesiege me."

  "Were you afraid?" asked Herbert, a little mischievously, for he knewpretty well what the colonel would say.

  "Afraid!" repeated the colonel, indignantly. "What do you take me for? Ihave plenty of faults," continued Col. Warner, modestly, "but cowardiceisn't one of them. No, sir; I never yet saw the human being, white,black, or red, that I stood in fear of. But, as I was saying, theredskins collected around my cabin, and were preparing to break in thedoor, when I leveled my revolver and brought down their foremost man.This threw them into confusion. They retreated a little way, thenadvanced again with a horrible yell, and I gave myself up for lost. ButI got in another shot, bringing down another warrior, this time the sonof their chief. The same scene was repeated. Well, to make a long storyshort, I repulsed them at every advance, and finally when but three wereleft, they concluded that prudence was the better part of valor, andfled, leaving their dead and wounded behind them."

  "How many were there of them?" asked Herbert.

  "Well, in the morning when I went out I found seven dead redskins, andtwo others lying at the point of death."

  "That was certainly a thrilling adventure, Colonel," said GeorgeMelville, smiling.

  "Egad, I should say so."

  "I confess I don't care to meet with any such."

  "Oh, no danger, no danger!" said the colonel, airily. "That is,comparatively speaking. In fact, the chief danger is of a differentsort."

  "Of the sleigh upsetting and tipping us out into some of the canyons, Isuppose you mean?"

  "No, I speak of the gentlemen of the road--road agents as they aregenerally called."

  "You mean highwaymen?"

  "Yes."

  "Is there much danger of meeting them?" asked Melville.

  "Well, there's a chance. They are quite in the habit of attackingstage-coaches, and plundering the passengers. Sometimes they make richhauls."

  "That must be rather inconvenient to the passengers." said Melville."Can't the laws reach these outlaws?"

  "They don't seem to. Why, there are men who have been in the businessfor years, and have never been caught."

  "Very true," said a fellow traveler. "There's Jerry Lane, for instance.He has succeeded thus far in eluding the vigilance of the authorities."

  "Yes," said the colonel, "I once saw Lane myself. Indeed he did me thehonor of relieving me of five hundred dollars."

  "Couldn't you help it?" asked Herbert.

  "No; he covered me with his revolver, and if I had drawn mine Ishouldn't have lived to take aim at him."

  "Were you in a stage at the time?"

  "No, I was riding on horseback."

  "Is this Lane a large man?" asked George Melville.

  "Not larger than myself," continued the colonel.

  "Where does he live--in some secret haunt in the forest, I suppose?"

  "Oh, no, he doesn't confine himself to one place. He travels a gooddeal. Sometimes he goes to St. Louis. I have heard that he sometimeseven visits New York."

  "And is he not recognized?"

  "No; he looks like anything but an outlaw. If you should see him youmight think him a prosperous merchant, or banker."

  "That's curious!" said Herbert.

  "The fact is," said the colonel, "when you travel by stage-coachesin these solitudes you have to take the chances. Now I carry my moneyconcealed in an inner pocket, where it isn't very likely to be found. Ofcourse I have another wallet, just for show, and I give that up when Ihave to."

  There was a stout, florid gentleman present, who listened to theabove conversation with ill-disguised nervousness. He was a New Yorkcapitalist, of German birth, going out to inspect a mine in which heproposed purchasing an interest. His name was Conrad Stiefel.

  "Good gracious!" said he, "I had no idea a man ran such a risk, or Iwould have stayed at home. I decidedly object to being robbed."

  "Men are robbed in a different way in New York," said George Melville.

  "How do you mean, Mr. Melville?"

  "By defaulting clerks, absconding cashiers, swindlers of excellentsocial position."

  "Oh, we don't mind those things," said Mr. Stiefel. "We can look outfor ourselves. But when a man points at you with a revolver, that isterrible!"

  "I hope, my dear sir, you take good care of your money."

  "That I do," said Stiefel, complacently. "I carry it in a belt around mywaist. That's a good place, hey?"

  "I commend your prudence, sir," said the colonel. "You are evidently awise and judicious man."

  "They won't think of looking there, hey?" laughed Stiefel.

  "I should say not."

  "You may think what you like, Mr. Stiefel," said a tall, thin passenger,who looked like a book peddler, "but I contend that my money is in asafer place than yours."

  "Indeed, Mr. Parker, I should like to know where you keep it," said Col.Warner, pleasantly.

  "You can't get at it without taking off my stockings," said the tallman, looking about him in a self-satisfied manner.

  "Very good, 'pon my soul!" said the colonel. "I really don't know but Ishall adopt your hiding place. I am an old traveler, but not too old toadopt new ideas when I meet with good ones."

  "I think you would find it to your interest, Colonel," said Parker,looking flattered.

  "Well, well," said the colonel, genially, "suppose we change thesubject. There isn't much chance of our being called upon to produce ourmoney, or part with it. Still, as I said a while since, it's best tobe cautious, and I see that you all are so. I begin to feel hungry,gentlemen. How is it with you?"

  "Are we anywhere near the place for supper?" asked Stiefel. "I wish Icould step into a good Broadway restaurant; I feel empty."

  "Only a mile hence, gentlemen, we shall reach Echo Gulch, where we haltfor the night. There's a rude cabin there, where they will provide uswith supper and shelter."

  This announcement gave general satisfaction. The colonel proved to beright. The stage soon drew up in front of a long one-story building,which bore the pretentious name of the Echo Gulch Hotel.

  CHAPTER XXIII. A STARTLING REVELATION.