thoroughbred steed was as black as coal, but we have not seen fit to
call him such--his name is Deadwood Dick, and let that suffice for the
present.

It was just at the edge of evening that he stopped before, and
proceeded to read, the placard posted upon the tree in one of the
loneliest portions of Custer's gulch.

Above and on either side rose to a stupendous hight the tree-fringed
mountains in all their majestic grandeur.

In front and behind, running nearly north and south, lay the deep,
dark chasm--a rift between mighty walls--Custer's gulch.

And over all began to hover the cloak of night, for the sun had
already imparted its dying kiss on the mountain craters, and below,
the gloom was thickening with rapid strides.

Slowly, over and over, Deadwood Dick, outlaw, road-agent and outcast,
read the notice, and then a wild sardonic laugh burst from beneath his
mask--a terrible, blood-curdling laugh, that made even the powerful
animal he bestrode start and prick up its ears.

"Five hundred dollars reward for the apprehension and arrest of a
notorious young desperado who hails to the name of Deadwood Dick! Ha!
ha! ha! isn't that rich, now? Ha! ha! ha! _arrest_ Deadwood Dick! Why,
'pon my word it is a sight for sore eyes. I was not aware that I had
attained such a desperate notoriety as that document implies. They
will make me out a murderer before they get through, I expect. Can't
let me alone--everlastingly they must be punching after me, as if I