The weekly Shasta courier., 1873-11-22
The Dead Town,

1t was among the tangled ridges and
ranges of the rugged mining region of
Central Nevada, and the sun was but
little more than two hours high, but
getting higher and hotter every minute
Along the deep ruts of the old wagon
road, which wound through a crooked
valley, there were riding two men of
widely different exterior, although thev
were both sufficiently noteworthy in
their way. The one in front, upon
whose slow movements the other was
rapidly gaining, was mounted on stout
old mule, whose dull ambition he con-
tinuously assisted with hearty thwacks
of what was left of the stalk and lash of
a worn-out "bull whip" and curious
sort of customer was he. His dress was
an odd commingling of the rags and
relics of civilized clothing with articles
of Indian make, not to speak of sundry
rude improvements that spoke prob
ably of his own clumsy handiwork His
hat, for instance, consisted of a greasy
and battered antelope skin, stretched
over an incomprehensible frame of will
low-twigs and rusty wire, and had such
"fap-down" behind and such a '' flap
up in front as suited admirably wav
the wearer had of bearing his snub nose
high in air, as if he perp etually discov-
cred something unpleasant in the sur
rounding atmosphere 1t needed no
second glance of an experienced eye to
determine that that man had been long
time I'm the mountains In fact, he
was just returning from a prospecting
and mining tour of prolonged toll and
peril, but of very satisfactory success;
and there is no other time in his wild,
adventurous life when your genuine
miner so thoroughly appreciates his right
to carry his nose in the air as high as he
pleases. And yet our miner seemed to
be in no particular hurry, for all his oc-
casional applications to the tough hide
seem disposed to avoid the man behind
him.
The latter wore the uniform of Unit
ed States cavalry officer. spick and span
new, with the shoulder straps of cap
tain, and a general appearance of having
just been to the BARRIERS, that was a
strong contrast with the outward man of
the mule-rider in front of him. He was
well mounted on a sleek skinned and
perfectly groomed fat gelding-quite
too fat for use in a country like that.
The captain, however, did not carry his
nose in the air, but lather seemed in
clined to send its long, sharp point
ahead of him on general scouting ex-
pedition of its own.
"Hullo, strangerl' shouted the man
on the mule, as he turned half round in
his tattered saddle; II say, cap'n, my
names Bing. Do you know if this 'ere's
the right road to Crooked Pine?"
Can't say, my FRIEND" replied the
the captain; ''never was here before, and
I'm just riding on ahead of my men to
see what can find"
Wall, then, cap'n, this ere is the
right road to Crooked Pine, and I'm
gwine right into that thar city myself,
sure as my names Bing"
''All right" growled the captain; Ego
in if you want to. 1 don't suppose any
one will try to stop you
Wont they, thought" returned the
man on the mule. "Wall, reckon you
never was into Crooked Pine in yer life,
and I'm just gwine right in thar, 1 am
Mebbe it amt bad place for you, with
yer army-blue on and yer cavalry fellers
comm close on behind We. 1 amt got
no cavalry but this yer consarned old
mule"
"Why," inquired the captain, aiming
his long nose at the man on the mule,
" is Crooked Pine such dangerous
place to get into?'
You bet!" exclaimed Bing. "Why,
cap'n, it's just the deadest town you
ever hearn tell on. 1t g1owed powerful
fast, it did. Thar was only coyote
hole thar at first, an the city sort O.
growed up around that-a little the
quickest you ever seen. Alters full O
human coyotes, too, arter they'd skeered
off the four-footed ones. I've been thar
more'n once, and now I'm gwine agin.
I'm gwine right into that thar town"
But what do you want to go there
for if it is such a dangerous sort of
place." asked the captain.
"Wall, you see, capn," said Bing,
with species of snort, that's just whar
the rub comes. You see, Crooked Pine s
Just the deadest sort of town, and its the
on'y place whar the boys ever made out
to git a white skeer onto old Bing.
They Just did that more'n year ago.
They gobbled my pile fust, and then
they run me clean out of Crooked Pine,
and thus 1 took to the mountings, and
I've been thar pretty much ever since.