on the table.

A murmur of incredulity went through the crowd of spectators. Even
"pilgrim" Redburn was astonished.

After removing the cards, Ned Harris turned and leveled his revolver
at the head of the young man from the East.

"Your name?" he said, briefly, "is--"

"Harry Redburn."

"Very well. Harry Redburn, that gambler under cover of your pistol is
guilty of a crime, punishable in the Black Hills by death. As you are
his victim--or, rather, were to be--it only remains for you to aim
straight and rid your country of an A No. 1 dead-beat and swindler!"

"Oh! no!" gasped Redburn, horrified at the thought of taking the life
of a fellow-creature--"I cannot, I cannot!"

"You _can!_" said Harris, sternly; "go on--_you must salt that
card-sharp, or I'll certainly salt you!_"

A deathlike silence followed.

"_One!_" said Harris, after a moment.

Redburn grew very pale, but not paler was he than the card-sharp just
opposite. Redburn was no coward; neither was he accustomed to the
desperate character of the population of the Hills. Should he shoot
the tricky wretch before him, he knew he should be always calling
himself a murderer. On the contrary, in the natural laws of Deadwood,
such a murder would be classed justice.

"_Two!_" said Ned Harris, drawing his pistol-hammer back to full cock.
"Come, pilgrim, are you going to shoot?"

Another silence; only the low breathing of the spectators could be
heard.

"_Three!_"

Redburn raised his pistol and fired--blindly and carelessly, not
knowing or caring whither went the compulsory death-dealing bullet.

There was a heavy fall, a groan of pain, as the gambler dropped over
on the floor; then for the space of a few seconds all was the wildest
confusion throughout the mammoth saloon.

Revolvers were in every hand, knives flashed in the glare of the
lamplight, curses and threats were in scores of mouths, while some of
the vast surging crowd cheered lustily.

At the table Harry Redburn still sat, as motionless as a statue, the
revolver still held in his hand, his face white, his eyes staring.

There he remained, the center of general attraction, with a hundred
pair of blazing eyes leveled at him from every side.

"Come!" said Ned Harris, in a low tone, tapping him on the
shoulder--"come, pardner; let's git out of this, for times will be
brisk soon. You've wounded one of the biggest card-devils in the
Hills, and he'll be rearin' pretty quick. Look! d'ye see tha