e moment Deadwood Dick came forward, there was a
wild, deafening cheer.

"Hurra! hurra! Deadwood Dick, Prince of the Road, still lives. Three
long hearty cheers, lads, and a hummer!" cried Fearless Frank, and
then the mountain echoes reverberated with a thousand discordant yells
of hurrah.

The young road-agent responded with a nod, and then said:

"The prisoners; have you them there?"

"Here they are, Cap!" cried a score of voices, and the two Filmores
were trotted out to the front, with ropes already about their necks.
"Shall we h'ist 'em?"

"Not jest yet, boys: I have a few words to say, first."

Then turning half-about in the doorway, Deadwood Dick continued:

"Ladies and gentlemen, a little tragedy is about to take place here
soon, and it becomes necessary that I should say a few words
explaining what cause I have for hanging these two wretches whom you
see here.

"Therefore, I will tell you a short story, and you will see that my
cause is just, as we look at these things here in this delectable
country of the Black Hills. To begin with:

"My name is, to you, _Edward Harris!_" and here the road-agent flung
aside the black mask, revealing the smiling face of the young
card-sharp. "I have another--my family name--but I do not use it,
preferring Harris to it. Anita, yonder; is my sister.

"Several years ago, when we were children, living in one of the
Eastern States, we were made orphans by the death of our parents, who
were drowned while driving upon a frozen lake in company with my
uncle, Alexander Filmore, and his son, Clarence--those are the parties
yonder, and as God is my judge, I believe they are answerable for the
death of our father and mother.

"Alexander Filmore was appointed guardian over us, and executor of our
property, which amounted to somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty
thousand dollars, my father having been for years extensively engaged
in speculation, at which he was most always successful.

"From the day of their death we began to receive the most tyrannical
treatment. We were whipped, kicked about, and kept in a half-starved
condition. Twice when we were in bed, and, as he supposed, asleep,
Alexander Filmore came to us and attempted to assassinate us, but my
watchfulness was a match for his villainy, and we escaped death at his
hands.

"Finding that this kind of life was unbearable, I appealed to our
neighbors and even to the courts for protection, but my enemy was a
man of g