A Desperate Chance; Or, The Wizard Tramp's Revelation, a Thrilling Narrative — Reading Notes

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Old Sleuth, 1839?-1898 Project Gutenberg 2004 Not confirmed
Young men -- Fiction; Adventure stories; Tramps -- Fiction Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Words 22,245
Reading time 97 min
Text sections 3

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An editorial note on Old Sleuth's 1897 adventure, focusing on its episodic structure, recurring images of campfires and abysses, and the movement between Western wilderness and domestic obligations.
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THE CAMPFIRE IN THE GULCH--AN ALARM--THE SOLITARY FIGURE--UNDER COVER--A WHITE MAN--"HAIL, FRIEND!"--A CORDIAL MEETING--A SECOND STRANGE CHARACTER.

"Well, Desmond, we've taken a desperate chance, and so far appear to be losers."

The circumstances under which the words above quoted were spoken were weird and strange. A man and a mere youth were sitting by a campfire that was blazing and crackling in a narrow gulch far away in the Rocky Mountains, days and days travel from civilization.

The circumstances that had brought them there were also very strange and unusual. Desmond Dare was the son of a widow who owned a small farm in New York State. There had been a mortgage on this farm which was about to be foreclosed when Desmond, a brave, vigorous lad, sold his only possession, a valuable colt, and determined to enter a walking match for the prize. He was on his way to the city where the match was to take place when in a belt of woods he heard a cry for help. He ran in the direction whence the cry came and found three tramps assailing a fourth man. The vigorous youth sprang to the rescue and drove the three tramps off, and was later persuaded by the man he had rescued to go with him to a rock cavern. There the lad beheld a very beautiful girl of about fourteen whose history was enveloped in a dark mystery; he also learned that the man he had rescued was known as the wizard tramp. The latter was a very strange and peculiar character, a victim of the rum habit, which had brought him away down until he became a tramp of the most pronounced type. This man, however, was really a very shrewd fellow, well educated, not only in book learning, but in the ways of the world, and seeing that Desmond had resolved to take a desperate chance, the tramp volunteered to land him a winner; he succeeded in so doing. The champion of the walking match carried his money to his mother, the tramp went upon an extended spree and spent his share. Afterward the tramp and Desmond Dare started on the road together. The girl had been placed with Mrs. Dare on the farm, and the man and boy proceeded West afoot, determined to locate a gold mine. The former discovered each day some new quality, and held forth to Desmond that some day he would make a very startling revelation. The youth had no idea as to the character of the revelation, but knowing that the tramp, named Brooks, was a very remarkable man, he anticipated a very startling denouement. After many very strange and exciting adventures Brooks, the tramp, and Desmond Dare arrived in the Rockies, and in due time started in to find their gold mine. The previous history of these two remarkable characters can be read in Nos. 90 and 91 of "OLD SLEUTH'S OWN."

At the time we introduce the tramp and Desmond Dare to our readers in this narrative, they had been knocking around the mountains in search of their mine and had met with failures on every side, and at length one night they camped in the gulch as described in our opening paragraphs, and Brooks spoke the words with which we open our narrative.

They were sitting beside their fire; both were partly attired as hunters and mountaineers, and both were well armed. Brooks, who had practically been a bloat had lived a temperate life, had enjoyed plenty of exercise in the open air, and had experienced to a certain extent a return of his original physical strength and vigor. At the time the whilom tramp made the disconsolate remark quoted, Desmond asked:

"What do you propose to do--give it up?"

"I don't know just what to do, lad."

"We've scraped together a little gold dust; possibly we may have money enough to engage in some legitimate business, and what we can't get by the discovery of a mine, we may acquire in time in speculation. You are shrewd and level-headed."

"That would be a good scheme for you, lad, but not for me. I am too far advanced in life to earn money by slow labor now. What I propose is that you go back, take all the gold we have, and enter into trade; you are bright and energetic and may succeed."

"And what will you do?"

"I shall continue my search for a mine, and some day I may strike it."

Brooks was a college graduate, a civil engineer, and a mineralogist, and believed he had great advantages in searching for a mine, but, as has been indicated, thus far their tramp and search had been a dead failure.

"I'll stick with you," said Desmond.

"No, lad, you must go back."

"I swear I will not; I like this life, and remember, we have gathered some wash dust and we may gather more. I don't know the value of what we have gathered from the bottom of that stream we struck, but I do know that it would take a long time to accumulate as much money in trade. Remember, we have been in the mountains only six weeks."

"That is all right, but we might stay here six years and not make a find."

At that instant there came a sound which caused Brooks and Desmond to bend their ears and listen. Some of the Indians were on the warpath; a band of bucks had been making a raid and had been pursued by the United States cavalry into the mountains. Indians, as a rule, do not take to the mountains, but sometimes when pursued hotly they will separate into small bands and scatter through the hills; these fellows are dangerous. They would have murdered any white men they might meet for their arms alone, without considering the spirit of wantonness or revenge that might animate them.

Brooks and Desmond rose from their seats beside the fire and moved slowly away. At any moment an arrow or even a rifle shot might come and end the life of one or both.

Desmond had become a very expert woodsman; he and Brooks had been chased by Indians several times and had exchanged shots with one band. They knew a cover in a crevice in the wall of rock which ran up abruptly each side of the gulch; from this spot they could survey and also make a good fight in an emergency. They had good weapons, plenty of ammunition, and what was more, coolness, skill, and courage. Desmond, especially, was a very cool-headed chap in times of danger; the use of firearms was not new to him, nor was the woodsman life altogether a novelty, for he had been raised in a very wild and desolate mountain region.

Quickly they stole to cover, although they believed it possible that they might have been seen, for they had absolute proof, well known to woodsmen, that if there were foes in the vicinity they had been discovered. Once in their covert they lay low, and a few moments passed, when they beheld a solitary figure advancing slowly and very cautiously up the gulch, and as the figure came in the light of the fire Desmond, whose eyesight was very keen, said:

"It's a white man; he looks like a hunter; we will wait a moment or two, but I guess it is all right."

The figure, meantime, with rifle poised, advanced very slowly and finally stood fully revealed close to the fire, and indeed he was a white man of strong and vigorous frame.

"I'll go and meet him," said Desmond; "you lay low here, rifle in hand ready to shoot in case he proves an enemy."

"All right, lad, go ahead."

Desmond stepped from his hiding-place and advanced toward the fire. The stranger saw him, still held his position ready for offense or defense, and permitted Desmond to approach, and soon he discerned that the lad was a white man and he called:

"Hail, to you," replied the lad.

The two men approached and shook hands. The hunter was a splendid specimen of physical manhood, and his face indicated honesty and good-nature.

"Are you alone here, lad?"

"Where's your comrade?"

Desmond made a sign, and Brooks stepped forth from the crevice and approached the fire.

"Hail, friend," said the stranger hunter.

Brooks answered the salutation, the two men shook hands and the stranger said;

"What may be your business out here?"

"We'll talk of that later on; but, stranger, you took great chances."

"In approaching the fire you were exposed; suppose the fire had been kindled by Indians?"

The woodsman laughed, and said:

"I knew it was not an Indian's fire."

"They don't create such a big blaze. I knew white men were around, and men whom I need not fear, but I was on my guard all the same."

"We could have dropped you off."

"Well, yes, but out here we have to take chances, and it was necessary for me to do so."

"I need food; I have not struck any game lately. The fact is, I've been up in the peaks where there is no game. I hope you have a cold snack here, my friends, and some tobacco, for I have not had a regular tobacco smoke or chew for over a month."

"We were just about to prepare some coffee and make a meal."

"Good enough; did you say coffee? Well, I have struck Elysium; I haven't tasted a cup of coffee in a year. You see I was snowbound away up in the mountains; fortunately I had plenty of dried meat, and I was compelled to wait until I was thawed out."

Brooks commenced making the coffee, and while doing so the woodsman asked:

"Are you regular hunters?"

"Ever in the mountains before?"

"You've been taking great chances."

"The mountains are full of bad Indian fugitives, and they are very ugly. Some are parts of a raiding gang of bucks, and others are rascals who have made a kick out at the reservation. I've met twenty of them in the last ten days; they are in squads of twos and threes, and they are full of fight."

"We have met some of them."

"And you managed to escape?"

"We had a fight with one party."

"How did you come out?"

"Ahead, I reckon, or we would not be here."

The conversation was between the woodsman and Desmond.

"What brought you into the mountains--are you tourists?"

"I thought not; no use to survey out this way. I suppose you are looking for a lost mine."

"Well, we might take in a lost mine or find a new one, it don't matter."

"Ah! I see; well, so far you've been lucky, but you've been taking desperate chances."

"Oh! that's a way we have."

A RECOGNITION--THE WOODSMAN'S DISCLOSURES--A CHANCE AFTER ALL--THE BIVOUAC--DESMOND'S DISCOVERY--SAVAGES GALORE.

The coffee was soon prepared and Brooks produced some dried meat and a few crackers, and the three men, so strangely met, sat down to enjoy their meal. The woodsman was offered the first cup of coffee, and as he drank it down, all hot and steaming, he smacked his lips and exclaimed:

"Well, that was good; that cup of coffee makes us friends. I may do you a good turn."

"Good enough; we are ready for a good turn. We've had rather hard luck so far."

"So you are after a mine, eh?"

"You are regular prospectors?"

"You have to strike a surface ledge to make any money. Don't think a claim would amount to much out here unless you found a nest of them so as to attract a crowd, and a town, and a mill, and all that. According to my idea the mines out here all need capital to work 'em in case you should strike one."

Regardless of possibilities, as the night was a little chilly, Brooks had created quite a blaze, and by the light of the fire he had a fair chance to study the woodsman's face, and finally he asked abruptly:

"Stranger, what is your name?"

The woodsman laughed, and said:

"I thought you'd ask that question."

"Well, it's natural that you should, but that ain't the reason I thought so."

"Well, why did you think so?"

"I was going to ask your name."

"Certainly; my name is Brooks."

"What made you think my name was Brooks?"

"Why did you ask my name?"

"As you said, it was a natural question."

"That ain't the reason you asked it."

"Well, you may tell me the true reason."

"You've been studying my face."

"You think you've seen me before somewhere?"

"Well, you did see me before."

"Just look sharp and see if you can't place me."

"It was a great many years ago."

"It must have been; but to tell the truth, there is something very familiar in your face."

"Yes, and you discovered it at the start, but you don't place me; I placed you. I didn't until you mentioned your name."

"Oh, certainly, by and by; but in the meantime pay me the compliment of remembering who I am."

"You have the advantage."

"I told you my name."

"I will tell you mine in good time, but try to remember."

The woodsman laughed, and said:

"We slept together one night."

"And now you can't recall?"

"You are a square man, but there has come a change over you."

"Well, yes, for the time being."

"You don't place me?"

Again the woodsman laughed and said:

"Do you remember about fifteen years ago a young fellow, tired, wet, and hungry, tried to find shelter in a freight car?"

"Hello! you are not Henry Creedon?"

"Yes, I am, and this is the second time you've fed me. You appear to be my good angel; I may prove your good angel."

"So you are Henry Creedon?"

"I am," and turning to Desmond, Creedon said:

"Your friend there one night made a fight for me, fed me and found shelter for me. He was a tramp then; I was footing it out West here."

"Henry," said Brooks, "what have you been doing all these years?"

"Mine hunting for fifteen years?"

"And have you found a mine yet?"

The woodsman laughed, and Brooks said:

"Desmond, we did indeed take desperate chances, and we've been making a fool's chase, I reckon. Here is a man who has been mine hunting for fifteen years and has not found one yet. Where do we come in?"

"I'll tell you," said Creedon; "it's luck when you find a mine. More are found by chance than are discovered by experts, but I think I've found one; I can't tell. You see, I was raised in a factory town, I've had no education and I can't tell its value. I know where the find is located, however, and some of these days I'll strike a prospecting party who will have an engineer with them, and then I will know the value of my find."

"If you take a party in with you they will demand a share."

"Do you intend to share with them?"

"I can't do otherwise."

"Yes, that is so; suppose I find an engineer for you?"

"I suppose you will want a rake in."

"Well, Brooks, I'll tell you, I don't want to start in on a divide with everyone, but I've made up my mind to take you in with me. I know you are a kind-hearted and honest man, even though you are a tramp, a whisky-loving tramp, and that I remember you emptied my canister that night."

"Yes, but I am not drinking now; I've reformed."

"So much the better for you."

"I've something to tell you."

"I am just the man to establish the value of your mine."

"How is that, eh? Have you become an expert after being in the mountains six weeks? and I am not in one way, and I've been here for fifteen years."

"I was an expert before I came to the mountains."

"I am a civil engineer by profession."

"I am a civil engineer by profession."

"That's what I tell you, and I tell you the truth."

"Then you are just the man I want."

"I said I was; I am more than an engineer, I am a mineralogist and a geologist."

"Hold on, don't overcome a fellow out here in the mountains; if you are a civil engineer that is enough for me. Hang your mineralogy and geology; what I want is a man who can estimate. No doubt about the ledge I've struck; the question is, how much will it cost to mine it; how much is there of it? You see I've had some experience here in the mountains, and sometimes we strike what is called a pocket; we might find gold for a few feet one way and another, and then strike dead rock and no gold. I ain't a mineralogist or geologist or a civil engineer, and I am afraid my find won't amount to much, but it is worth investigation, and as you are able to estimate we will make a start. To-morrow I will take you to my ledge and then we will know whether we are millionaires or tramps--eh? mountain tramps--but I am grateful for this food and coffee, and now if you'll give me a little tobacco I'll be the most contented man in the mountains, whether my mine turns out a hit or a misthrow."

So tobacco was produced; Brooks himself was an inveterate smoker, and since being in the mountains Desmond had taken to the weed, and there was promise that some day he might become an inveterate.

The three men had a jolly time, but in a quiet way. Creedon was a good story teller; he had had many weird experiences in the mountains. He had acted as guide to a great many parties, he had engaged in about fifty fights with Indians during his residence in the great West, and had met a great many very notable characters.

When the men concluded to lie down to sleep for the night they extinguished their fire, and each man found a crevice into which he crept, and only those who have slept in the open air in a pure climate can tell of the exhilarating effects that follow a slumber under the conditions described.

Desmond was the first to awake, and he peeped forth from his crevice and glanced down toward the point where the fire had been, when he beheld a sight that caused his blood to run cold. Five fierce-looking savages were grouped around the spot where the campfire had been, and he had a chance to study a scene he had never before witnessed. He beheld five savages in full war paint; they were dressed in a most grotesque manner, part of their attire being fragments of United States uniforms, showing that the red men had been in a skirmish, and possibly had come out victorious, and had had an opportunity to strip the bodies of the dead.

A great deal has been written about the shrewdness of redmen. They are shrewd when their qualities are once fully aroused and they are on the scent, but they are given to assumptions, the same as white men. Of course Creedon was practically to be credited when he said that the Indians assumed there had been a camp there and that the campers had departed, but had they made as close observations as when on a trail they would have made discoveries that would have suggested the near presence of the late campers.

Creedon had as far as possible destroyed all signs when raking out the fire of a recent encampment, but an experienced and alert eye can detect the truth despite these little tricks.

Desmond saw the Indians: they were a hard-looking lot, the worst specimens he had ever beheld, and they were assassins at sight, as he determined. He was secure from observation, but it was necessary to warn his comrades, who were in different crevices, and at that moment Creedon actually snored. He was in the crevice adjoining the one where Desmond had taken refuge.

The Indians were too far away to overhear the snore, but it was possible the man might awake and step forth; then, as Desmond feared, the fight would commence. He did not desire a fight; he might think the chances would be with his party, as only two of the Indians had rifles, but then if even one of their own party were kicked over it would be a sad disaster.

The narrative opens with a campfire in a narrow gulch, a setting that recurs as a site of revelation and decision. The first words—'Well, Desmond, we've taken a desperate chance'—establish a pattern of risk and reflection that structures the story. The wizard tramp, Brooks, is introduced as a figure of contrasts: educated yet a victim of drink, shrewd yet fallen. The text moves rapidly from this mountain scene to a backstory of a walking match, a rescue, and a mysterious girl, all within the first chapter. This compression of incident is typical of the dime-novel style, where action and exposition are tightly interwoven.

Episodic Structure and the Campfire Motif

The story unfolds in a series of discrete episodes, each marked by a campfire or a similar gathering point. The opening campfire in the gulch is the first of several such scenes where characters pause to assess their situation. Later, Brooks and Desmond sit by another fire before the tramp proposes a separation. These fires serve as narrative hinges: moments of reflection before the next adventure. The text itself acknowledges this rhythm when Brooks says, 'to-morrow we will be in the town,' signaling a shift from wilderness to civilization. The campfire is not merely atmospheric; it is a structural device that organizes the journey into stages.

Recurring Images of Abyss and Crossing

An early illustration caption reads 'He Placed the Ladder of Saplings Across the Abyss,' an image that literalizes the 'desperate chance' of the title. The abyss appears as both physical and metaphorical: the gulch, the gap between poverty and fortune, the chasm between Brooks's past and his hoped-for redemption. The ladder of saplings is a makeshift bridge, echoing the improvisational nature of the characters' plans. This image recurs in the narrative's structure, as each decision—to rescue a stranger, to head West, to trust a tramp—is a crossing over uncertain ground. The text does not dwell on these images, but their repetition gives the story a visual coherence.

Movement Between Wilderness and Domestic Obligations

The narrative oscillates between the Rocky Mountain wilderness and the domestic sphere of New York State. Desmond's initial motivation is to save his mother's farm from foreclosure, a domestic crisis that propels him into the wild. Later, Brooks reveals his own domestic tie: a sweetheart who has remained faithful for fifteen years, urging him to return. The mine, when it proves valueless, becomes a 'compass' pointing toward another, more promising location—but also toward the question of whether Brooks will go home. The text sets up a tension between the lure of adventure and the pull of home, a tension that remains unresolved in the excerpts, as Brooks plans to stay in the West while sending Desmond back with money for college.

Voice and the Role of the Narrator

The narrator occasionally addresses the reader directly, as in 'We will not bore our readers with an account of the investigations.' This self-aware aside is characteristic of Old Sleuth's style, acknowledging the conventions of the thrilling narrative while maintaining a brisk pace. The narrator also provides quick character sketches—Brooks is 'a very strange and peculiar character,' Creedon is 'pale as a pictured ghost'—that rely on stock phrases but create vivid impressions. The voice is conversational and slightly ironic, treating the improbable events with a straight-faced earnestness that invites the reader to accept the 'desperate chance' as plausible. This narrative stance is crucial to the story's effect, balancing melodrama with a wink.

Readers should note that the excerpts cover only the first portion of the story, ending as Brooks and Creedon prepare to search for a new mine while Desmond is offered a return to civilization. The promised 'revelation' of the title remains undisclosed. The narrative's structure—alternating between action and campfire reflection—suggests that further revelations will emerge at similar junctures. Pay attention to how the text uses landscape as both obstacle and opportunity, and how the characters' pasts are gradually unveiled through dialogue rather than exposition.

Years after first following the wizard tramp’s campfire sparks into those wilderness abysses, I find myself lingering over another kind of peril. A Desperate Chance taught me that a story’s rhythm can feel like a hearth’s warmth — steady, despite the falls. Something in that old comfort returns with The Brown Mask — A Reader’s Guide, as if one book quietly remembered the other’s way of keeping a light on for the reader’s return.

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  • ...
    Zachary Martinez - 3 weeks ago
    What a thrilling ride! 'A Desperate Chance' is a gripping narrative that keeps you on the edge of your seat from start to finish. The story of the Wizard Tramp and his revelation is full of twists and turns that you won't see coming. The vivid descriptions make every scene come alive, and the fast pace makes it hard to put down. A must-read for fans of adventure and suspense.

  • ...
    Brandon Jessica Murray - 3 weeks ago
    Despite its title, 'A Desperate Chance' is a rather formulaic and over-the-top piece. The story is filled with clichés and improbable coincidences that strain credibility. The prose is mawkish and repetitive, making it a chore to read. While some may appreciate it as a historical curiosity, it fails to deliver a genuinely gripping narrative.

  • ...
    Christopher Jasmine Weiss - 2 weeks ago
    This is a typical dime novel with plenty of action and an exciting premise. The plot is engaging, but the writing can be overly dramatic and the characters lack depth. If you enjoy sensational fiction, this will be a fun read, but don't expect complex character development. A quick, entertaining escape.


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