...(\:»_. ., 1 {pr-‘41:; y. > ( C‘s.“ s\\ _—- _ I - 7... re:- ‘35 NT ’. V ’- . cVZ-‘fi—c "i s 3.- ,—a..- y. j'lumninnmummh 'Iliwlllll llllll ll Fireside Ballads. THE BARON’S TOAST. BY FRANK I. IKBRIE. Berthwyr, the proud Welsh baron, Stands in his father’s hall, And glares at a shrouded picture That swin s on the oaken wall; Touches wit smiling hauteur The dragon upon his crest, “ I feast to thee, Madonn Who cursed the House 0 Guest." Then turned he, this high-born noble, With mocking jest and sneer: “ I tell thee now, ood Evan, Order my vassa here; From lichened stone to turret The grim old castle light, Then spread a royal ban uet— Berthwyr is lord to—nig t! ” Send forth my best out-riders, Bid marquis duke and seer, And from the aunted Morlais, Bring young Llewellyn here. ’Tis strange this youth Llewellyn Fills me with such unrest." With this he dons the purple Beneath the Dragon crest. Lord and duke and marquis Have hasted the strange behest, But Berthwyr stands at the banquet The iordliest and best. His was a scornful beauty, His blue eye gleaming, cold As the sapphire eye of the Dragon That writhed on the purple's fold. “ Welcome, my loyal nobles, Welcome ye Chieftains all; Now drink to the shrouded picture That swings on you oaken wall, Ere from its fatal beauty I tear the pal! of hate, Choke from the Golden Dragon Thiamystery of Fate !” There‘s a crash of golden goblets, A splashing of crusted wine: “ We drink to the shrouded picture i" A hundred voices chime. “Fill up the jeweled beakers. For by m ducal crest, The last of he rinceliest lineage Is Berthwyr, rd of Guest. Thelast—dost hear. ye nobles? Pour out a crimson flood, l‘or he who dares defiance Must pledge his life in blood! The last—for never woman Oommingled blood with mine, And never son of woman l” Ha! down the quiveriniline, One beaker's foam is bro en- “ I dare the dragon-sign— I drink to thee, Lord Berthwyr, I drink to thee and thinel’ Loud laughed the haughty baron-— “ List to the bragfizltrt, hst;" But the foam from t e trembling lingo: Dripped from his jeweled wrist. “ Thee and thine," he mimicked, Then flashed Llewellyn‘s eye. “ Thee and thine!" he thundered, “ I challenge you, deny! “ Full twent years this castle Hath lain n direst gloom, And never a sound 0 revel Was heard in the banquet room. Pull twenty years on a midnight, After the revel was done, A woman’s cry of anguish Out through the stillness run. “ And twent years. since the poster- Swung to ike an iron fate, As the senseless form of a woman Was borne from your jealous hate—— Borne from the fated chamber Whose ghostly turrets rise Yonder, under the lindens, Where ruined Morlais lies. “ There twenty years, this midnight, Was born of the dire distress A noble, f air-haired bab To the noble House 0 Guest. ‘The last?‘ Hath never woman Commingled blood with thine? I ve thelie, Lord Berthwyr, or thou art sire of mine! “ Now fill your empty beaker-s, For by my rightful crest I claim a royal lineage, Llewellyn, Lord of Guest! How now, my noble father;— Thore is the paneled wall, There is the shrouded icturo. I dIl‘ you lift the p l" Down came the silver tankard Upon the lished floor, Gone from t e. kingly features The mocking mask of yore; Something so proudly tender Burned in the baron's eye—- Something the brave Llewellyn Dare not, could not defy. Slowly the proud Welsh baron Turned to the shrouded face, Lifted the crumbling velvet With calm and courtly grace; His grand voice thrilled and trembled, Dark! his blue e es shine: “I drin to thee, ll adonna, I drink to mine and thine!" ‘lfine and thine!" “ My Berthwyr!” Soundod like silver bell; Crash! panel and shrouded picture A littering ruin fell. Out mm the carven p0 A queeuly figure prest, Clutching the Golden Dragon Coiled on her snowy breast. Trailing the purple's splendor Over the marble ha! , She stood at the banquet table The loveliest of them all. Silence! lord. duke and mar ub— Lord Berthwyr bends him ow, Touches with reverent fingers The polished brow of .snow. Then turns he, the proud Welsh no“: “Fill up the crimson wine; Drink to my proudest triumph, Drink deep to me and mine! Fill high the jeweled tankard, The noblest noble here lust ledge this royal mother, An crown Llewe yn peer.” A hundred lifted beakers Leaped with their crusted who; A hundred voices shouted: “ We drink to thee and thine !" Far through echoin archways, Out on the midnig t chime, Bung out in wildest measure: “ We drink to thee and thine!" Theater Prices in Shakespeare’s 'l‘l-c. SPIAKING of the enormous prices paid for ungtry tickets, the scribe of the Rochester Dem-rat and Chronicle makes a. reference to ancient times. It is a common feature in the dramatic record that an indiflerent line in Shakespeare gives us the price of admittance in his day. The only play-house in London at that time was the Black Friars‘ Theater, where ShakeSpeare was highly polar, and where some of his best plays were flis brought out. The Eco of admittance is found in the prologue to King nry VIII, which reads as follows: “I come no more to make you laugh—things now That bear a weightv and a serious brow We now resent.- Those that can pity. here llay, if they think it well, let fall a tear. The subject will deserve it; Those that come to see Only a show or two, and so agree The play may pass; if they b i still and willing I’ll undertake may a a aw '1] their shilling Richly in two short hours.“ A chilling in those days was worth almost as much as a dollar of our present currency, and hence it may be considered that the prices have not really advanced. A century and a half after the above was written, G 'rrick h'td made Shakes care so popu- lar with the c.0wds of London that t 6 drama was one of the great features of the day. The same rate was continued. for the masses at least, but the dis- tinct-ion between pit and boxes was introduced. In Shakespeare‘s day this did not exist, but Garrick found it necessary. This explains the words of Johnson, who, as Boswell says, spoke of Garrick as “ a fellow that shows himself for a shilling." Buffalo Bill’s Grip; OATH-BOUND T0 CUSTER. A Romance ore. Real Trail that ended in the averaging of the heroes, Custer and his Three Hundred Troop- ers. who fell in “ Sitting Bull’s Battle of the Big Horn.” BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, AUTHOR OF “ THE LEAGUE OF THREE," “ nan, rm: HUTINEER,” “ MONTEZUMA, THE moi- uiss,” “ THE SPECTER YACHT,” " FLOR- E'rrE, CHILD or THE STREET," “ THE DESERT PRINCE,” " JULE, THE JEWESS,” “ THE PRINCE OF THE PRAIRIE,” “ MOTHER- LESS,” “ BUFFALO BILL’s BET,” ETC. CHAPTER XXIV. AN mrmmnn EXECUTION. Gm CARR. was no man to trifle, and knowing something of him, and )f his valuable services upon the plains, when colonel of the gallant Fifth Cavalry, Gin er Sam was aware of that fact, and set it down in his heart that he must die. The outlaw had a cringing fear of death, and yet had dealt many a back-handed blow at victims without mercy. ~, He loved life in these wild hills, hiding away from his fellow-man, rather than live in constant terror of his life ending from the end of a rope. When he knew that certain and sudden death must follow if he remained in, or near, the settle- ments, he at once sought safety in the wilds, and many behaved him dead, and the hunt for him ce . He had allied himself with the Indians, by being ever ready to tell them where the could get a ale- face scalp, and he had merciless y dealt out eath to any luckiess trapper or hunter who boldly en- tered that portion of the country in pursuit of his calling and crossed his path. Brought face to face with the end at last, and seeing the head of the column enterin the timber, Giu er Sam appealed to General Carr or his life. T e general is ‘ a born soldier, and yet one whose heart is in the right lace; but he is no man to sym- pathize with one gui ty of intentional crime, and to such can be mercdess, where duty demands that he should be, so that it was with no particular ami- ability that he heard the pleadings of Ginger Sam for his life. “You are showing yourself an arrant coward, as well as a hardened villain, and it is my intention to deal summary justice upon you and upon all of your clique whom I find in these wilds, urging the Indians to make war upon your own race, and reying upon your fellow-beings with the thirst for lood that a wild beast possesses,“ was the stern remark of General Carr. “Ikin do you service, gen‘ral, ef you spar’s my poor life,” whined the wretc . “ I do not believe you, and more, I do not care to accept service from such a one as you are." " I known Sitting Bull, gen'ral,” persisted Ginger m. “ I do not doubt it, and more, I believe you are one of the rene ades in part responsible for the evil deeds of the ndians." “No, gen'ral, I hain’t as bad as that." “ You are worse: but, tell me, do you know ought of the Custer massacre?” quickly asked the general. “ Hes thar been a massacree in these parts, gen'- ral?’ The officer looked the villain straight in the face, toer his very thoughts, if it were possible so to do, beneath the mask of sin and assurance he wore. “ There has, sir been a. fearful massacre." “ What Injuns did they marsricrcc, gcn‘ral?" “Bah! I waste time in talking to such as you. “ Come, if you have prayers to say, say them, for to command halts here but half an hour, and half ofythat time is gone." “Gen‘ral yer hain’t got no right ter hang me,“ said the villain, assuming a bullying tono. “ I do not intend to hang vou." “ Glory hally—hally—hallylujahl” shouted the wretch. “ 0 not hug false hope to your heart, man, for I intend to shoot you." “ Oh. Lordyl but 'cr hasn't ther right ter do it." “I shall assume t 0 right. sir." “ They will trv yer for it.“ “I will take all responsibility in the matter,” was the calm reply, while Frank Gourard, who stood by, said bluntly: “Say, Ginger, ef they docs anything with ihcr gin'ral fer shootin‘ yer, Gwv’mint will promote him fer riddin’ the kentry of sich n. varmint as you be." “Come, no more of this nonsense," said General Carr, sternlly, and turning to a young officer near him. he sai : “Adiutant Forbush, now that the command has arrivet , detail a piatOOn to execute this man, and it must be done at once!" “ Yes, sir ” and as the officer turned away to obey the order, Ginger Sam called out: “ Gen‘ral, cf ycr‘ll s ar' my life, I‘ll guide yer straight to ther camp 0 Sitting Bull." “ I have an honest man, and a guide, here, who can do the same. “ You appeal in vain, sir, for you must die." and General C‘ll‘l‘ was turning away, when it flashed upon him to ask a f ‘w questions regarding the pres- ence of the dead Indians tlicrc. ' " By the way, answer me a few questions,“ he laid. " Yns, gen’ml," eagerly said Ginger Sam, catching at a ray of hope. “ Who killer those Indians?" “ Buf‘ler Bill kilr. some, an‘ I kiit t'others, for I comet! jist in time for help him out o' a scrape." “ Where are their ponies?" “ Buf’ler Bill tuk 'em with him." “ And Cody bound you here, after your aiding him, you say?“ it as, genlral)‘ ‘General E. A. Carrie now'one of the most dis tinguished officers in the service and deserves the honors he has won, and wears In like the true soldier he is.-—Tn.s Ac'rnon. “ Lordyl I blushes ter heur thet liar lie," Frank Gourai‘d. “ One question more: “ Who is buried in that grave?" “ Some Injun Bill Cody recognized as a old pard, and .lanted him decent like, fer friendship sake." “ he killed him?" “Bill an’ me both got our work in on him.” “ Who were he?" asked the guide. “ Ther Sioux warrior they calls Ther Leapér, Ther Flyer, an’ sich." “ Ha! is that famous Sioux brave dead?" cried General Carr. “He lies under thet yarth thar, gen'ral, and so oughter be; but now yer‘ll spar‘ me for ans’in‘ yer questions, won't yer, geu‘ral? ‘ The general made no reply and walked away, while Frank Gourard said, in a disgusted tone: “Yer oughter be shooted fer bein’ so ’feer'd ter said e. “ But ther platoon are ready, sinner pard, so yer better ‘rastle with tyler pra'ers lively ter ther hymn o’ Hallylujah fer t er sojers is a-tunin‘ the'r orgins ter play ther oxol’gy." T e doomed man groaned in anguish of spirit, and as the sergeant came forward to untie his bonds and lead him to the lace of execution, he trembled so that he excited t e mingled pity and disgust of all. He could hardly walk to the ve which had been hastily dug for him, and when e looked down into its loathsome depths a cry of horror burst from his lips and he would have fallen had not the ser- geant upheld him. “ Say, pard, be a man, an' don’t make me 'shamed o‘ bein’ a human,” said the guide, hoarsely, step- ping to the aid of the sergeant. T 9 poor wretch tried to brace up, and mana ed to stand without support, but the crimes of his ife trooping before him, and death at hand to avenge them, caused him to droop his head upon his breast and groan in anguish. All was now in readiness for the execution, and a moment more would have ended the painful scene, when suddenly there came the rapid fall of hoofs, and there dashed upon the scene Buffalo Bill. His horse was panting and covered with foam, and as the scout threw himself from the saddle he cried quickly: “ General Oarr, I beg you not to execute that man'!" CHAPTER XXV. AN UNSOLVED MYSTERY. ALL looked up in amazement at Buffalo Bill’s sudden coming upon the scene, and with the ap- pearance of having ridden hard to get there. His face was flushed and he seemed both anxious life of the miscreant. As for General Carr, he was certainly surprised, but said in his pleasant way: “ I am glad to see you, Cody, though you come to save the life of this wretch.” “Thank you, general, but I do ask it as a special favor to me, if you can grant it, that you will spare the man‘s life and turn him over to my keep‘ipf.” “ For you to be his executioner, Cody? d the general, with a smile. ‘ D . l a, A7 I I \ Liffl; / ill "I\ f ' l "filly I “Oh, no, air! but I have a reason for asking the favor that I cannot now explain.“ “ You arrived ust in time, Cody." “ Then you wi spare his life, general 7" “Yes, Bill; as you ask it, I cannot refuse, for he is your game, onl turned over to me to execute," frankly said the 0 car. “ Thank you, sir." “An' I t ianks y-ru, Buf‘ler Bill, from my heart I does," cried the miserable wretch. Bufialo Bill wheeled upon him with flashing eyes as he said: “ I wish no thanks from you, Ginger Sam. “ I would prefer your curses. “ But I need you. and with the general‘s consent, I will take you with me." “ Leave us a lock 0' his ha'r, Bill, fer I hes a. sneakin‘ idee, he hain‘t oin' ter remain in good health long," said Frank ourard the guide, and in spite of discipline his words caused a laugh. “ But, Cody, on do not intend to leave us again?" said the gene . “Yes, sir, I must, for I am on atroil I must follow to the end." “The madman‘sf" " He is still ahead of me, sir, though I over- hauled him at this point just after dawn this morn- “ I lmow‘d thar hcd been a cirkiss in this hour timber, an' thct thcr unimilcs hed had a turn in ther menagcru." put in Frank Gourard. “ Come, Cody, what happened?" asked an officer of the staff. “Oli, a ack of red hounds jumped the Mad Her- cules, ant woro worrying him, when I came up." “ Well P" said the general, with a quiet smile. “ I sailed in, general. Rod—skin them got a wound which sent him lioofing it into the thicket yonder, and when I got back, Crazy Grizzly and the Injuns had skipped off." “ Except the dead ?" remarked General Carr, dryly. “ Yes, sir they tarried." “ You ' ed several, of course?" “ Old Soft Head was cashing red-skin chiefs pretty lively when I arrived; but there‘s my sacrifice offer- ing to Custcr's memory," and he pointed to the scalpless red-skins that were 1 ing near an open grave which the soldiers Were dig ‘ng for them. “ Why did (.u not take the sca ps of the others, Bill?" asked t e adjutant. “Their hair did not belong to me, and the Mad Shanghai was in too great a hurry to pla barber." “ And that wretch there, what aid ( id he give you?" and General Carr pointed to the prisoner, who stood with bowed head and in silence near them. “ He came retty near killing mo, and would have done so, had 9 not allowed his curiosity to get the better of his judgment. “ It ma be all right for a woman to make such a mistake, ut not for a man." " Pray explain, Bill." In a few words Buffalo Bill told of the circum~ stance of his meeting wi 11 Ginger Sim, and what followed, and Frank Gournrd muttered: h “Ther Boss 0' ther Big Horn, he calis hisso’f, do e? “Wnal, of he haln‘t ther Boss 0‘ Big Liars, set me down right now as ther father of ‘rm all, even of thar do be a high-toned gent from Hatland thet lays claim ter thet name." “And that there is the grave of the Sioux warrior noted as The Fiver!" “ Yes, general, and he well nigh made me a be- liever in spooks and goblins, I can tell you," and the scout told of his mysterious adventures with Ne-ti- ha, and added: “ He was sent by Bill Bevins to trail me from the Big Horn battlefield and get my scalp, and he came ! several ; have ended quickly for its human foe, but for the l l l i The outlaw sudde m over the precipice into the depths below. , the little recess of the canyon, cutting off all escape, and glad that he had arrived in time to save the 4 . her revo ver to the best advantage; but the wounds very near getting it for a tassel for the war-bonnet of the old renegade; but I must be 03, for I have work ahead of me. “Press on hard, general, on the trail of Sitting Bull, and PM try and meet you beyond the Yellow- stone with tidings." “You do not intend to carry out your foolhardy intention of goin to the Indian village, Cody ?” “ I’ve got to es my promise to Miss Feather Feet, general,” said ill, with a light laugh, and he turned toward the prisoner, fastened the end of his lariat securely around his waist, binding his hands behind him, and, with a salute to the general, and a wave of his hand in farewell, said sternly: “Now, Ginger Sam, git!" “Wliar, Pard Bill?" “To your cabin." The man started, shrunk back, and seemed in- clined to rebel. h “ To your cabin, sir, or stay here and occupy that cine." Buffalo Bill pointed at the open grave, and with a. shuddcrtlio outlaw walked away, taking the trail leading down the river, and leaving all gazing after them with interest, and whose thoughts Frank Gou- rard cchocd with the words: “ Thct Bill Cod are playin’ some deep game, an’ usin‘ Ginger fer t er seasonin' of it.” CHAPTER XXVI. A LIFE-DEBT PAID. IWILL now return to the movements of Buffalo Bill, prior to his return to the timber, just in time to prevent the execution of the man who deserved death for his crimes, as surely as any one ever did. After crossing the river he readily followed the trail of the ponies kidnapped by the Mad Hercules, and it led into a most hilly country, ere he had gone a couple of miles. Suddenly, as he turned into a canyon, he came upon astartling scene, and one which required nerve and quickness to prevent from becoming a frightful tragedy. At bay, in a recess of the canyon wasawoman, her back toward the scout. She knelt upon one knee, had a long-bladed knife in her right hand, the arm being enwrapped in a buckskin mantle. Her left hand clutched a revolver about the middle, for the weapon had evidently been emptied of its charge, and it was half-raised, as though also to be used as a means of defense. Before the woman, and just rearing up for the fatal embrace, was a large bear, and the game he was seeking was before him. In some way the bear had cornered the woman in “ But you know the family in which I was living when you met me?” “Your uncle, John Logan?” “ NO uncle, but John Logan all the same. “ My father had a hold on him, in some way, and Logan and his wife took me to live with them, and cahed me their niece. “ Well, one day uncle Logan, as I called him, told me my father had sent for me, and I went with him to a Oint where I met my aternal. “ e told me to come wit him and I came, and he brought me here to these mountains, and here I have been ever since.” “ It‘s a nice place to hide, Ella." “ Tip—top, isn’t it, and that’s just what We, or gafficr lie is doing. But you won’t give it away, i .’ “Ella, don’t they call your father Ginger Sam?" suddenly asked the scout. “ Yes, Bill, that was his nickname; but do not speak of his being here." “ Do you love him very dearly, Ella?” “ Yes, Bill, though I know his faults. “ The fact is, my poor mother loved him, and he was good to her, and to me when I was a little girl. “One day my mother told me she feared father was a very bad man, for he was never at home hardly, and from that time she faded away, and a year after died. “ Father came to her funeral, and she was buried at night, and by him and John Logan, and then I went to the Logans to live. “He is good to me, and I fear would be much worse if it was not for me. “ But he is all I have In the world to love, and if he 1isihould die, I would take my life, for I do not care to v 0. Buffalo Bill started and turned pale, while he seemed lost in deep thought. Then he said qui-kly: “ Ella, I well tell you frankly that your father a prisoner—” “ Oh save him, Bill, for the love of God!" cried the poor girl in a frenzy. “1 will do all that I can. “ Go from here to your cabin, and leave your trail so that I can readily follow it, should I be too late, for [ will come there. “If I am not, I will have your father guide me there.” “ He will die first, Bill.” “ No, he will do as I ask him. “Now I must be off, and you go too.” “ But I'll skin the bear first.” “ D——— the bear,” cried Bill, with more energy than politeness, as he threw himself upon his horse, rode to the river, and swimmin across, struck out for the little army under Genera Carr, with the re- sult which the reader has already been made ao- quainted with. and she had turned and prepared to fight for her e. The black hide of the hear was stained red in laces, showing that the woman had used CHAPTER XXVII. GINGER sm‘s nanmo man. UPON leaving the temporary camp of the sol- diers with his prisoner, Buffalo Bill started down the river, as I have said. After getting out of sight, he said: “ You ve got good vehicles for moving along, Gin- ger Sam, so keep ’em rolling lively, for I am in a urry.’ The man quickened his pace without a word, and holding on to the lariat the scout rode behind him. The traveling was far better than upon the other side of the river, and they made good time for a couple of miles. Just what he intended to do with him Bufl‘alo Bill had not decided upon. To save him he had acted wholly from impulse, his heart getting the best of him. out of a friendly regard for the unfortunate daughter of such a man. he had certainly saved Bill, at a time when there would have been no hope for him, and he had always felt toward her the greatest gratitude. When scouting in the vicinity of John Logan's cabin after his rescue by her, he always went to see her, and never failed to carry her some little souve- nir of his appreciation for the service she had ren- dered him. She was hardly more than a child then, and it had pained him one day, when be halted at Logan’s cabin, to have it told him that she had mysteriously disa' ppeared. It was hinted to the scout by her supposed uncle that she had fallen in love wit some young border sport, and run off with him, and now, years after, he found her a huntress of the Big Horn, living in the wilds with a man whom he knew to be the vilest of the vile. Pitying her, he had gone back to the command, where he feared he might be detained by the gen- eral, on account of his determination to keep his promise to Feather Feet. Confident that the scout had formed some deep plan of action in regard to his return to the Indians the general had made no effort to detain him, as a first he had threatened to do, though he disliked to see_him depart upon an expedition of such great served to em‘a e the brute, and the struggle would ringianl crack of a rifle that brought the brute to the groun . But he was not killed, and he sta gored to his feet just as Buffalo Bill rushed in upon in and began to ml. After gaining a point where the trail led across the river, Buffalo Bill said: “ Cross over, Ginger!" “ What does yer want tor cross for?” was the sur- ly response. “ I have my reasons, so wade in." “No; I don’t kecr ter git wet.” “Very well: take the back trail for the command, and take your chances with the platoon,” said Bill, indifferently. The outlaw shuddered, and replied quickly: “ I’ll cross the river." “ Right are you, Sammy, my boy." Into the water they went, and once on the other shore, where a number of cattle trails divided, Buf- falo Bill selected the one that would lead him to the zcene of his adventure with Ella Wesley and the ear. “ Thet trail only goes up inter ther hills," said the outlaw , nervously. “It is into the ills I wish to go." “ Ther’ hain’t nothin’ up thar yer wants." “ There’s where you are 03 your base, Ginger, for there is.” “What does yer want i“ “ I desire that you shall take the quickest route to your cabin.” "l’ll die fust." was the savage re “You had better do as 1 ask, for palaver.” “ I’ll not 0 a step.” “ Then I’ lead you there," was the quiet reply. The outlaw saw that Buffalo Bill knew more than he told him, and his thoughts flashed like lightning through his brain. His eyes failing upon the larint end, held loosely in the hand of Buffalo Bill, his 6 yes suddenly gleamfid with some inborn resolve, and he said, re- sxgne y: “ Wual, pard, as I don‘t know that I kin kick ag’in’ yer. I‘ll do as you say." “ Right, Sammy. ” Now move on i" The outlaw obeyed, taking the trail once more with a nimble step. As it wound along the edge of a ravine, through the bed of which dashed a stream, the outlaw sud- ilenly sprung Over the precipice into the depths be- ow. Buffalo Bill caught hard at the end of the iariat as it tightened but could not hold on, and the en slip through his hand, and a plunge following, goal1 him that his captive had fallen into the waters ow. ill“. ' «\‘W‘ ii]; 3' l “it‘ll! , empty his revolver into his huge body at close quar- tors. Several shots were fired before the beast suc- cumbed, and, as he dropped dead, the scout’s hand was grasped firmly, an e turned to behold before him the one whose life he had saved. He saw a. young girl, with a. skin almost as dark as an Inllian's, a face that was handsome, with dark, lustrous eyes, and a wealth of jet-black hair. A head coronet, with feathers, sheltered her head, and she was clad in buckskin leggings hunting- shirt, and a patch-work skirt reaching to her knees, and made from the skins of a score of animals. Her small feet were incased in moccasins, and about her slender waist was a. belt, with an ammuni- tion- ouch and a holster for her revolver, and a. scab ard for her knife, while at her back was a quiver devoid of arrows, and a broken bow lay a few paces distant. “ Buffalo B'lll" She uttered the name softly, still grasping his hand, and her face flushed with joy. “Ella Wesley! and hero in the Big Horn Houn- tains?" cricd Buffalo Bill. “ Yes, I am ELa Wesley, but grown from the girl of fifteen, when you lzncw me, to the woman of twenty " she said, sadly. “ Still you are the same brave girl that saved my life seven years ago, Ella, and I have not forgotten it; but I misscd ou fmm the settlement, and none knew where you ‘ad gone." “ No, I left secretly.” ply. am not one to CHAPTER XXVIII. naouonr T0 rEiuIs. GINGER SAM, the outlaw, or, as he preferred “Andwhyi” _ tocall himself having no one to dis ute the title fl0:30“ t 1151‘ m6, 3111." 9110 said. in 3 “>119 01 (3061) with him,the ‘: Boss of the Big Horn," new exactly ow. what he was doing when he took the seemingly fatal lotip over the precipice. e knew the hills and valleys, the trails and canyons as he did his own cabin home, and seeing that Buffalo Bill held the end of the lariat onl , with which he was bound, and that it was not ma e fast to the saddle-horn, or around the scout’s waist, the idea struck him to attempt a bold escape. He knew the exact point, as the trail led along the edge of the cliff, where he should jump over, and watching his chance, he did so, as the reader has seen. It was not in the strength of man to check his descent by the hold upon the lariat, which Buffalo Bill had, and could he have done so, the weight of the man, pulling suddenly upon him, would either have draggtd him from his saddle, or drawn his horse over il e edge of the precipice. This Buffalo Bill saw in the twinkling of an eye, and nearly let go of the lasso. His firs thought was, of course, that Ginger Sam had attempted suicide, and had succeeded. But, hardly had the splash of the descending form reached his cars, when he was on foot, and peering over the precipice. “Poor girl, I am afraid you have had your sor- rows: but I would not be hero now, if you had not so.de me that night, when the road- cuts were coming to lynch mo, and I am over 'our liend." “You have just canceled the ebt, Bill, for in going for that old licarI bit off more than I could chew," said the. girl, in a bold, reckless way, and wiih n. light laugh. “ Yes, he would have done the chewing, Ella; but why did you try to bag such big amcr ‘ “I hunt most of the time, Bill, or I have little else to do, and l have frequently killed game as large; but his hide was tough. I rhot my quiver out upon lim, emptied my six-shooter into him, broke my bow ovor his head, and then ran for base like a quarter horse. “But I took the turn in here, and got shut off and euchcred." “ You‘re are a daisy, Ella," said Bill, with a laugh at the girl’s spirited recital of her adventure. “ch, tlicr Boss Girl 0' thcr Big Horn, as m father calls me, and that is not saying much, as am the only one in this region." “Your father, Ella?“ She started, and her face flushed and paled, while He saw that the water was swift—flowing and dee , She answered: , and that the stream wound out of sight a few r0 8 “ Yes, my father; but don't give me away, Bill." below by turnin a rocky point. “ldrn’t exactly Feelio‘vICfin." Instantly he rcidcd u n his course, and cast “To be square, Bill, I’ll tell you a secret, if you’ll aside his arms and outer c olhing', koc it dark." “Wait here, Red-skin, and kick the head off of “ ‘ll not betray you,_Ella." anybody1 you see trying to steal my clothes and “W4 ii, the old man IS prowling round about here arms,” 6 cried to his horse, and at once he took the leap. It was thirty feet down to the water, but he struck feet foremcst, and Without in ury. In the mean time, a per ect swimmer, Ginger Sam knew gicist what was before him, although his arms were .und behind his back. Keeping under the water until he had rounded the point. which the current and his own efforts soon enabled him to do, he then rose to the surface and began to make for the shore. it was hard work, with only his feet to aid his ef- forts, a_nd retarded as he was by his clothing and the Lariat; but he made it at last, and under the now, so I‘ll have to be quick, and then say good~ by; for I cnnnot ask you hon c—God he! the name! — as it would end in a. Kilkenny cat fig t between you .vnd the old man." “With chances in favor of the old man, I guess, from what you say ?" laughed Buffalo Bill. “ Yes, for he‘s the best behind-your-back shot I ever saw. “ But he’s my father, Bill. and my duty is to him, though, had I been educated, as I am now," and the girl laurhed recklessly: “ I'd never have been the Big Fool of the Big Horn that 1 am.