"I do not know; few in Deadwood do. It is said, however, that she
comes of a Virginia City, Nevada, family of respectability and
intelligence."

At this juncture there was a great hubbub outside, and instinctively
the twain drew their revolvers, expecting that Catamount Cass and his
toughs had discovered their retreat, and were about to make an attack.
But soon the gang were beard to tramp away, making the night hideous
with their hoarse yells.

"They'll pay a visit to every shanty in Deadwood," said Harris, with a
grim smile, "and if they don't find us, which they won't, they'll
h'ist more than a barrel of bug-juice over their defeat. Come, let's
be going."

They left the building and once more emerged onto the darkened street,
Ned taking the lead.

"Follow me, now," he said, tightening his belt, "and we'll get home
before sunrise, after all."

He struck out up the gulch, or, rather, down it, for his course lay
southward. Redburn followed, and in fifteen minutes the lights of
Deadwood--magic city of the wilderness--were left behind. Harris led
the way along the rugged mountain stage-road, that, after leaving
Deadwood on its way to Camp Crook and Custer City in the south, runs
alternately through deep, dark canyons and gorges, with an ease and
rapidity that showed him to be well acquainted with the route. About
three miles below Deadwood he struck a trail through a transverse
canyon running north-west, through which flowed a small stream, known