LITMIR.BIZ

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      CHAPTER I.

       THE ARRIVAL AT BIG BONANZA.

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      It was just about five o'clock in the afternoon of a cool day in autumn when Young Wild West and his friends rode into a little mining camp called Big Bonanza, which was situated in the heart of the range, known as the Silver Bend Mountains, Nevada.

      It was the first signs of anything like civilization that the party had seen in two days, and though there were but half a dozen little shanties in it, the sight of it was a welcome one.

      Young Wild West was beyond a doubt the greatest and best known of the heroes of the Wild West, and though but a boy in years, he had made a name for himself that many an elder person would have been proud to own.

      He had earned the title of the Champion Deadshot of the West by his remarkable skill with the rifle and revolver, and he was ever ready to defend the title against all comers.

      Many of his warmest friends called him the Prince of the Saddle, because he was without a peer at breaking and riding the wildest and most vicious horses of the West.

      When upon the back of the beautiful sorrel stallion he always rode he made a picture that was dashing and handsome in the extreme. When on his trips through the wildest parts of the Great West he invariably was attired in a fancy buckskin hunting suit, and with his sombrero tipped well back upon his head, he surely showed up as a dashing young hero.

      The flash in his eye told of his courage and persistence, while his athletic form betokened his strength and quickness.

      But of all his qualifications to make up a dashing young Westerner his greatest was his coolness and fixed purpose to do right, no matter what the cost might be.

      Few, indeed, are possessed of such sterling qualities, and it is only those who are that make real heroes.

      But, as we have already stated, and the majority of our readers know, Young Wild West was a genuine boy hero of the Wild West, and that is only saying the truth.

      Being the owner of several gold and silver mines, the young deadshot had an income that was more than sufficient to permit him to pursue his favorite hobby, which was riding about through the wildest parts of the states and territories in search of adventure.

      At the time of which we write there was plenty of excitement and adventure to be found in that region, and Young Wild West was helping along the advance of civilization, which, by the way, has not reached all parts of the West yet, speaking in a true sense, and reckoning in law and order.

      In company with our boy hero were his two partners, Cheyenne Charlie and Jim Dart, and two very pretty young girls and a young woman.

      Cheyenne Charlie was a government scout and one of the best known Indian-fighters of his time. He was yet a young pan, and though he had been "through the mill," as the saying goes, he was better satisfied to be led than to lead, and thus it was that he had cast his lot with Wild.

      The scout was a tall man, straight as an arrow, and his long black hair and mustache, together with his bronzed face, gave him the appearance of being just what he was—an out-and-out Westerner.

      Jim Dart was a boy of about the same age as our hero, born and reared in the West, and though he seldom had much to say, he was full of grit, and always ready to do his share.

      The two were known as the partners of Young Wild West, and they always dressed in the same style he did.

      The two girls of the party were Arietta Murdock, the charming sweetheart of our hero, and Eloise Gardner, Jim Dart's sweetheart; the young woman was the wife of Cheyenne Charlie, and her name was Anna.

      The girls, as they always called them, loved to travel around with our hero and his partners, and they had learned to look upon the dangers they were constantly coming in contact with rather lightly.

      Arietta was the only one of the three who had been born and reared in the West, but Anna and Eloise had been there long enough to become accustomed to its ways, and they could ride horseback and shoot with great skill.

      Two Chinamen, who were riding bronchos and leading pack-horses, were with our friends, and as they came to a halt in front of a saloon that had a sign across the front declaring it to be a hotel, one of them hastily dismounted, and before Young Wild West and the rest knew what he was up to he disappeared around the corner of the shanty.

      There were three men, besides the man who ran the saloon, in front of the roughly-constructed building, and they seemed to be cowboys, by their general appearance.

      All four of the men were regarding the new arrivals with no little interest, and when the Chinaman slid around the corner of the shanty one of them called out:

      "One of your heathens is dry, I reckon, strangers. I'll bet he's

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