Young Wild West at "Forbidden Pass" Part 1

Young Wild West at "Forbidden Pa.s.s"

by An Old Scout.

CHAPTER I.

THE ARRIVAL AT BIG BONANZA.

It was just about five o'clock in the afternoon of a cool day in autumn when Young Wild West and his friends rode into a little mining camp called Big Bonanza, which was situated in the heart of the range, known as the Silver Bend Mountains, Nevada.

It was the first signs of anything like civilization that the party had seen in two days, and though there were but half a dozen little shanties in it, the sight of it was a welcome one.

Young Wild West was beyond a doubt the greatest and best known of the heroes of the Wild West, and though but a boy in years, he had made a name for himself that many an elder person would have been proud to own.

He had earned the t.i.tle of the Champion Deadshot of the West by his remarkable skill with the rifle and revolver, and he was ever ready to defend the t.i.tle against all comers.

Many of his warmest friends called him the Prince of the Saddle, because he was without a peer at breaking and riding the wildest and most vicious horses of the West.

When upon the back of the beautiful sorrel stallion he always rode he made a picture that was das.h.i.+ng and handsome in the extreme. When on his trips through the wildest parts of the Great West he invariably was attired in a fancy buckskin hunting suit, and with his sombrero tipped well back upon his head, he surely showed up as a das.h.i.+ng young hero.

The flash in his eye told of his courage and persistence, while his athletic form betokened his strength and quickness.

But of all his qualifications to make up a das.h.i.+ng young Westerner his greatest was his coolness and fixed purpose to do right, no matter what the cost might be.

Few, indeed, are possessed of such sterling qualities, and it is only those who are that make real heroes.

But, as we have already stated, and the majority of our readers know, Young Wild West was a genuine boy hero of the Wild West, and that is only saying the truth.

Being the owner of several gold and silver mines, the young deadshot had an income that was more than sufficient to permit him to pursue his favorite hobby, which was riding about through the wildest parts of the states and territories in search of adventure.

At the time of which we write there was plenty of excitement and adventure to be found in that region, and Young Wild West was helping along the advance of civilization, which, by the way, has not reached all parts of the West yet, speaking in a true sense, and reckoning in law and order.

In company with our boy hero were his two partners, Cheyenne Charlie and Jim Dart, and two very pretty young girls and a young woman.

Cheyenne Charlie was a government scout and one of the best known Indian-fighters of his time. He was yet a young pan, and though he had been "through the mill," as the saying goes, he was better satisfied to be led than to lead, and thus it was that he had cast his lot with Wild.

The scout was a tall man, straight as an arrow, and his long black hair and mustache, together with his bronzed face, gave him the appearance of being just what he was--an out-and-out Westerner.

Jim Dart was a boy of about the same age as our hero, born and reared in the West, and though he seldom had much to say, he was full of grit, and always ready to do his share.

The two were known as the partners of Young Wild West, and they always dressed in the same style he did.

The two girls of the party were Arietta Murdock, the charming sweetheart of our hero, and Eloise Gardner, Jim Dart's sweetheart; the young woman was the wife of Cheyenne Charlie, and her name was Anna.

The girls, as they always called them, loved to travel around with our hero and his partners, and they had learned to look upon the dangers they were constantly coming in contact with rather lightly.

Arietta was the only one of the three who had been born and reared in the West, but Anna and Eloise had been there long enough to become accustomed to its ways, and they could ride horseback and shoot with great skill.

Two Chinamen, who were riding bronchos and leading pack-horses, were with our friends, and as they came to a halt in front of a saloon that had a sign across the front declaring it to be a hotel, one of them hastily dismounted, and before Young Wild West and the rest knew what he was up to he disappeared around the corner of the shanty.

There were three men, besides the man who ran the saloon, in front of the roughly-constructed building, and they seemed to be cowboys, by their general appearance.

All four of the men were regarding the new arrivals with no little interest, and when the Chinaman slid around the corner of the shanty one of them called out:

"One of your heathens is dry, I reckon, strangers. I'll bet he's headin'

fur ther back door."

"Yer kin bet your life on that!" Cheyenne Charlie answered. "Hop likes his tanglefoot once in a while, an' he never loses a chance ter git it."

"Well, if that's ther case I'd better go in an' wait on ther galoot, then," spoke up the proprietor of the place. "We ain't used ter seein'

gals around here, an' I sorter hate ter leave, too. But business is business."

The man spoke in a way that was not meant to be disrespectful, for what he had said was undoubtedly the truth. The few inhabitants of Big Bonanza were not in the habit of seeing female visitors.

"Well, gentlemen," said Young Wild West, "we have just dropped in here by accident, and I reckon if there's no objection we'll camp around here somewhere until morning. We are making a trip across the state, and we are going in a straight line as much as possible. What we happen to strike makes little difference to us; whether it is a mining camp or a desert. We are used to all kinds of traveling, and generally go prepared for anything."

"Talks like he was someone what sorter knows all about things, eh, boys?" remarked the cowboy who had called out that the Chinaman was heading for the back door to get into the saloon.

"Yes," answered one of his companions, while the other gave a nod.

"Looks as neat as a pin, too, don't he?" went on the man, who evidently took it that our hero was a boy fond of showing off in an expensive costume, and that he did not amount to a great deal.

"They all look neat," one of the others observed. "Them gals is sartinly worth lookin' at, ain't they? They've struck it rich somewhere, an' ther first big town they come ter they've bought new clothes. I reckon I kin judge things all right."

"So you think you can judge pretty well, eh?" said Young Wild West, as he dismounted. "Well, what do you take me to be?"

"A putty smart boy, who thinks it looks nice ter have his hair long, an'

who likes ter put on lugs 'cause he's got some putty gals with him,"

answered the cowboy, after a slight pause.

"So that is your opinion, is it?"

"I reckon it is, young feller."

"Well, don't you think a person has a right to wear good clothes if he can well afford it?"

"Oh, yes. I ain't sayin' nothin' about that. But clothes don't make ther man--or boy, either. How long have you been West, Sonny?"

"How long have you been West?"

"About fifteen years, I reckon."

"Well, I can beat you by three or four years, then. Anything more you would like to know?"

"Oh, tell him ter dry up, Luke!" said the first speaker. "What's ther use of talkin' ter ther young dandy? Him an' ther other boy has hired ther man they've got with 'em ter take 'em around an' show 'em ther sights; an' they've, got ther man rigged out in buckskin an' fancy trimmin's, jest ter make 'em all attract attention. I'll bet I'm right on that!"

He turned to our hero as he said this and acted as though he was sure he was right.

"How much will you bet, you windy galoot?"