.  'l-l\\\\ ' ’
Ref-Wizaryr

 
 

   
 

 

 

 

 

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§-

 

 

 

was her duty to respond. _ o
For some time she sat still, her face buried 1
her hands, and her thoughts busy. .
Then she raised her beautiful eyes. dimme
with tears, and rising, stood before him.
Her face was white and calm, and she looke

worst.

highly in giving to me your love. I who am
more paid servant In your lamily—’
“ Hold!

feel—"
“No! no!1]()!

field. I can give you but one answer.”
“ You do not love me!" he said. bitterly.
She seemed to struggle with deep emotion fo
an instant, and then answered:
“ I will not say that."

grasped her little band.

do so."

L‘

meant nothing of the kind.
“ You are not old, and I would not look upoi

would ever pass my lips.

ness that impressed him.
he sought to draw her toward him.
that had grown cold:

field.”
“ \Vell, Grace .3”

would deeply pain him.

“ General Delafield, I am a married
man .”’

“Good God!”

And be fairly staggered under the blow, while
his face became whiter than ever had it in the
midst of battle.

“Yes, General Delafield, I entered into a
marriage years ago, not because I deeply loved,
but under circumstances I could not resist, for
an influence was brought to bear upon me that
I yielded to.

“The man I married I hate, yet he holds in
his power a life that is very dear to me, and I
dare not go against his will.

“ My husband lives, and would to God it were
not so: but living. I am still his wife. though hat—
ing him viciously, and hence I can but refuse
your generous offer, though confessing that I
love you.”

“ And where is this man?” asked General Del-
afield, hoarsely. ‘

“ I will say no more than that he lives, and is
my husband.“

“ He is a wicked man to hold you thus bound
to him.”

“ He is false in heart and soul, and I will
thank Heaven when I hear that he is dead, heart-
less though it may seem in me to say so."

“ He has wronged you deeply, Grace, I
know.”

“He has; but I bide my time, and time will
make all things even.

“But now you know the barrier that is be-
tween-us, and you know also that I love you, so
let me go away and—"

“ No, no! that you shall not do. for nota word
of love shall you car from my lips, Grace. un—
til I have a right to offer my hand to you as a
free woman.

“ Come, let us be friends.”

And she warmly grasped the hand held forth
to her, just as there came a quick challenge
from the sentinel without, a struggle, loud
voices, and a tall form dashed into the room
through the open window, a drawn sword in his
hand.

 

CHAPTER XXXIII.
A FATAL DISGUISE.

THE one who sprung so unceremoniously into
the room of General Delafield wasa tall man.
with broad shoulders, over which a military
cloak was thrown, high-top cavalry boots, a
slouch hat with a black plume. and upon it a
pair of crossed'sabers and the letters “ U. S. A.”

He started as his eyes fell upon the occupants
of the room, half turned, then doffed his hat,
replaced his sword'quickly in its scabbard, and,
as half a dozen soldiers followed him into the
general’s quarters. he said:

“ General Delafield, I surrender myself to you,
sir, as a prisoner.” '

“ Captain Darrington .”’

“ illajor Darrington .'”

The name broke first from the lips of Grace
Mortimer, and then from General Delafield.

Dean Darrington stood calm, upright, his
arms folded upon his broad breast, his eyes fixed
upon the face of the Union general, while his
pursuers, half a score of soldiers, awaited the
result, a few of them within the room, the bal-
ance outside on the piazza.

" Yes, General Delafield. I am Dean Darring—
ton. of the Confederate army. and your prisoner,

' 3‘.

“What does this mean, Major Darrington.
for you are in the Union lines. and wearing the
uniform of your enemies?” sternly said General
Delaficld.

A flush passed over the handsome face of the
young Confederate soldier, and he replied,
quickly:

“Your words imply. General Delafield. that
you deem me here as a spy, sir: but such is not
the case.“

“ I can put no other construction upon your
act, sir.”

“ I admit. sir. that
against me.”

“Have you been upon another of your des—
perate raids, and were you taken with your
men 3”

" No, sir. I came here alone."

“And for what purpose, Major Darringtont”

“ General Delafield, the purpose I had in view
I cannot make known: but I am here within
the Union lines, and having accomplished the
motive of my coming, I sought to return to my
own lines, when I was halted by a patrol guard.
and knowinor that I could not successfully pass
inspection, . came hither. the guard pursuing
me, that I might surrender to you, sir.”

“ Ah, Major Darrington, I fear I cannot serve
You.”

“I do not ask any favor, sir, of you; but
knowing that escape was im ossible. for my
horse had already been seized, did not care to
be dragged off by my captors and shot as a spy
without any chance for my life, hence surren-
dered to you to stand any trial you may deem
necessary.”

“Major Darrington, I believe I can see. in
your coming here as you have, a motive other
than to serve as a spy: but I can act but in one
way, and thus I must place you under arrest as
what you appear to be, a spy. and have you tried
at once as such, and Heaven grant you can prove
your innocence of the dreadful charge.”

Dean Darrington bowed low and turned to his
pursuers to surrender himself. when just then
Lois glided into the room.

“ Father, I thought that you were alone— Oh,
God! Denny, you aprisoncr.”

And as her eyes fellupon her lover she uttered
a cry of anguish and sprung toward him.

appearances are sadly

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
   
   
  

  

 

 

"Au‘

4
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-
,...

 
   
 
 

*

(2

But the guards quickly stepped between them,
and Dean Darrington was encircled by a cordon
of bayonets.

Only half an hour before Lois Delafield had
parted with Dean Darrington on the hillside.

He had told her why he came, but urged her
to secrecy, and begged that she would urge her
father to take up his quarters far back within
his own lines.

But at last he had told her of his love, and it

like one who had nerved herself to tell the

“ General Delafield. you have honored me, most
Grace, do not speak thus. for God
knows I, have never done might to make you
I did not mean to have you

believe that I thought so; but I thank you for
the offer of your love. and yet. General Dela-

“ Ah! will you say that you love me 3" and he
Yes. I must cmifess it. though it is a sin to
“ You mean that it is a mating of June and

January, our ages are so vastly different that—"
No, no, you do not understand me, for I

the difference in our years as a barrier were “Father, he is no spy: I swear to you he is no
you much older; but I must make a confession
to you, and that confession I did not think
“ You have told me a secret. that you love
me, and I will tell you a secret. and one which
I have no right to tell—I [are you with my Icholw
soul I” and she spoke with a passionate earnest—
“ God bIOSs you for those words, Grace," and
But she sprung backward, and said in a Voice
" Now to make my confession, General Dela-
And he spoke sadly. for something in her look
told him that he was going to hear that which

100-

 

Then they had parted, Lois still true to her
Confederate lover, and he, though bound in duty
11 to the gray, linked in love’s chain to the lovely
Northern girl of the North, whose father wore
d the blue. ‘ ‘ I
Believing that he Would soon regain his lines,
d Lois had returned to her room in the mansion
and sat for some time musing upon her meeting
with the man she so deeply loved.

She had been glad that he had asked her no
a questions regarding the movements and strength
of the Union forces. and even had checked her,
playfully placing his finger upon her lips when
she inadvertently started to tell him that her
father had reCeived a number of reinforcements
for his command.

Determined to tell her father the information
the Southern officer had given her, yet compell-
ed to secrecy as to where she had received the
warning that they must move their quarters or
r become the prisoners of a guerrilla band, L015
had sought the general in his quarters, to sud-
denly find there. a prisoner. none other than the
brave lover she then deemed out of danger.

It was a terrible blow to Lois, for she realized
fully that Dean Darrington had been caught in
disguise, in the uniform of his toes, and in their
lines.

She knew that a spy had no mercy shown
him, and her heart fairly stood still with
anguish as she realized that death stared in the
1 face Dean Dai‘rington.

spy," she cried, earnestly, springing toward her
father.
“Ah, Lois, my child, I know; I believe your
words to be true; but see. he is in our lines in
disguise, and he must face the consequences.”
“ General Delafield, I am no spy, and I thank
you for your words: but I came here, as you
see. wearing a disguise, the uniform of a Union
officer, and be my fate what it may, I am ready
to take the consequences.
“Sergeant, 1 am ready to go to the guard-
house." and casting aside his cloak, and taking
from beneath it his own slouch hat, Dean Dar-
rington stood forth in his Confederate uniform,
a proud smile upon his face, as he gazed upon
poor Lois.
“ Dean on: rington, speak! tell my father why
you came here!” cried Lois.
“ No, I have nothing to say why I came, and
you, too, Lois, must keep your promise of
secrecy.”
“ Ah, Dal-rington, would to Heaven that I
could save you.
“But my hands are tied, and you must bear
the consequences of your fatal act.”
“Surely, General Delafield. you can do some—
thing for him, and not let him be led away to
death?” and Grace Mortimer laid her hand upon
General Delafield's arm, and looked up pleading-
ly into his face.
“ Grace, the rules of war allow me no word in
the matter.
“, An enemy caught in disguise in the lines of
his foes, is to be treated as a spy, and no power
can save him.
“ Sergeant, lead the prisoner away, and I will
report his capture to the commandinglgeneral.”
Dean Darrington bowed, his face 'ghted up
with a smile, as he turned his eyes upon Lois,
and then he walked away, his mien proud and
fearless in the midst of his 0uard.
“ Dean! Dean! you shal not die, for I will
save you!” came to the ears of Dean Darring—
ton as he was led away.
“ My child, you can do nothing.
“ Grace, take Lois to her room, for this pain-
ful scene has unmanned me, asI loved Dean Dar-
rington as though he were my own son,” and
General Delafield’s voice quivered as he sunk
{Into a chair, his emotion almost overpOWering
1m.
“ Grace, he shall not die. for I will save him,”
said Lois, as the two left the room.
“But what can you do, Lois?" asked Grace,
as the two reached their room.
“ You shall see,” was the determined response,
and with quick step and face that was livid Lois
Delafield began to pace to and fro, Grace Morti—
mer watching her with anxious, loving eyes. and
wondering what bold resolve was forming in the
heart and brain of the beautiful girl to save her
lover from dying as a spy.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE MIDNIGHT RIDE.
FOR a long time did Lois Delafield pace to and
fro, anxiously watched by Grace Mortimer.
At length the sieuce became painful to Grace,
and she asked:
“Lois, what can you do to save poor Major
Darrington?”
“ I have not wholly formed my plan yet,
Grace,” was the quiet answer.
" \Vell, we will talk it over to-morrow, and
see what can be done for him; but oh! why did
he venture here as he did?”
“ Never did he come as a spy, Grace.”
“ That I feel, as does also your father, Lois”;
“ He came for a purpose that was a good one,
only I cannot tell it now.”
“ I’Vell, try and sleep now, Lois, for what you
have to do to—morrow you will need rest for.
“ Good-night, and do not sit up any longer.
“ I will send your maid to you.”
“ No, no, I wish to be alone.
“ Good—night, Grace,” and Lois kissed her af-
fectionately and resumed her pacing to and fro.
while Grace descended to the lower floor and
once more sought General Delafield. '
He was seated in his easy-chair. his head
bowed upon his hand, for he had two sorrows
upon his heart then.
He had told his love to Grace Mortimer and
found that a barrier divided them that could
not be set aside.
Then he had sent Dean Darrington. whom he
dearly loved. to prison as a spy, and knew well
that military law would be merciless and the
end come quickly, and what a bitter blow it
Would be to Lois he well knew.
He rose as Grace entered and led her toa seat.
“ How is Lois ?” he asked, sadly.
“ She is calm, but determined to do something
on the morrow to save Major Darringto'n.”
“She can do nothing.”
“You are sure, sir?”
“Alas! yes.
“ I have sent a report of the capture of Dar-
rington by an aide. and told the commander of
the corps that I believe him guiltless of any crime.
“ I hinted that he was engaged to my daugh—
ter when the war broke out. and had doubtless

interview with her just before his capture.

“ I urged that he be held as a prisoner of war
and not be tried as a spy. and I sincerely hope
that my request will be. granted, though I have
my fears that poor barrington must suffer for
his rash act."

“Heaven grant not, sir: but it was kind of
you to do as you did.”

“ Kind? oh no! Do you forget, Grace, all
that I owe to Dean Darrington?

“Do you forget that he saved Lois from a
fearful death at west Point, that he saved us

loves my child as she does him?

that, he may spare him; but I dread that he may
not. ’

“And Lois is determined upon some plan to
save him.”

“ If my letter fails, nothing will save him.”

“ “'hen will you know, sir?”

“ Doubtless to—night. for I bade my aide to
spare not the spur and return with a reply as
soon as he could.”

Thus in earnest conversation more than an
hour passed, and then both started as the rapid
clatter of hoofs reached their ears.

They heard the challenge of the sentinel, the Last year there were 123 criminals hanged, but
step upon the piazza. t
The next instant a young aide entered the s
room.

He saluted the general, bowed low to Grace,
and took from his breast-pocket an official—look—
ing document.

His face was flushed from his hard ride, and
he looked tired and anxious.

“ “'ell, Lieutenant Brackett, you saw the
general?”

can send Brackett on in her stead, and he will
make the ride, depend on it, if man and horse—
flesh can do it.

first

called suddenly from his bed, was flying along
through the midnight darkness, a score of gal-
lant troopers at his back.

horses,” he said. sternly. as the cavalrymen
drew rein slightly at the brow of a steep hill,
and down the hillside they swept at full speed,
their gallant young leader riding like the very
wind.

drels lynched in various parts of the country is
90, of whom 96 Were males and 3 females. 58
white and 41 colored. As usual, the South takes
come into the lines to see her, and had held an more than three-fourths of the lot, having 75.
against 2-} credited to the North.
States are represented as follows: Alabama, 3;
Arkansas. 1; Florida, 2: ,
Kansas. :3: Kentucky. 3: Maryland, 1: Missis—
sippi, (3: Missouri. 6: North Carolina, 2: Ne-
braska. 2:
Texas, 31: Yi
the Territories: New Mexico, 2: Indian Terri-
tory, 72 Dakota. 1: Montana, 2}: “'ashington. 1.
It may also be of interest to know that of these
99 departed citizens, 44. were lynched for mur-
der, 31 for horse and other stealing, 14 for rape,
from the burning steamer, and more, that he 3 for incendiarism, ‘3 for train—wrecking, 2 for

I , murderous assault, :3 for unknown reasons, and
“ Oh no, I wrote all to the general. and I pray 1 for burglary.

months, and their significance will be apparent
when it is stated that the number of lynchings
last year was 193.which was an increase of near-
ly 100 over 1883. The number of lynchings thus
far in this year has steadily increased, month
by month. so that at this ratio the total for this
year will considerably exceed 7
does not keep anything like an even pace with
lynching, though the volume of crime for the
first six months of this year is far in excess of
what it was last year during the same period.

response in a quick. terse voice, and then a firm this year thus far there have been but 4:3. At

in crime.
year for criminals.
keep pace with them, owing to the obstacles
which stand in his way, but Judge Lynch is do-
ing well in his efforts to keep up something like
a due relation between crime and its punish-

 
   
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
    
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
   
 
 
 
   
  
  
 
  
   
   
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
 
    
 
  
 
 
 
 
     
  
  
 
 
   
  
 
  
 
   
 
  
 
 
   
   
   
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
   
  
   
 
 
 
   
 
  
   
 
    
   
   
  
  
   
 
   
  
 
   
 
 
  
   
   
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
  
   
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
 
 
   
  
 
    
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
   
  
   
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
    
 
  
  
    
 
 
 
   
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
   
   
   
 
  
  
   
   
   
  
 
 
   
   
  
  
  
   
 
   
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
     

letter.” 7
“Ah! he sends a private letter also.” an

and hastily broke the seal.
in a low tone, as he glanced at the contents.

Confederate was not in vain, sir :" said the youn
officer, with feeling.

rington will be treated as a spy."

A moan broke from the set lips of Grace Mort
mcr, and bowing, Lieutenant Brackett departe
from the room.

cial paper.

guilty to haVe him shot by sunset."
" God have mercy upon him.”
“ And upon my child."
“ Yes, poor Lois: but the letter, general?”

Darrington.

go and how to avoid every large camp.”
“ This is infamous,” said Grace, With anger.
“ The general means well, Grace. and is friend
ton, for he speaks of him as being the most dan
that he may really be guilty of coming as a spy

see Lois.”
“ Never'”

obey my orders, painful as they are.

do so unless you are with her.”

come to you?”

 

perhaps get some sleep.
“ Good—night!”

tations.
Grace slowly ascended the steps, and entering
her own room, which adjoined that of Lois,
found the lamp down low.
She tip-toed to the open door leading into the
bedchamber of Lois and listened.

from the dim lamp in the adjoining chamber
Listening, she heard no sound of breathing.
Going nearer the bed she saw that it appeared
to be occupied. and she turned away.
But something prompted her to again return
to the bed.
Again she listened for breathing, but not the
slightest sound greeted her ear.
“Can she be dead?” she asked herself, in a
hoarse whisper, and she laid her hand gently
upon what she supposed was the shoulder of Lois.
She started, for it was a pillow, and hastily
she grasped at what appeared to be the outline
of a form.
It was but pillows.
With a cry Grace Mortimer dashed into her
own room, turned up the light and reéntered
the chamber.
There she saw that Lois had made what she
intended should appear to be a form in the bed.
Glancing about the room Grace’s eyes fell
upon a letter upon the table addressed to her.
Hastily opening it she read:
“ My DARLING GRACE:—
"I have determined upon a plan to save Dean
Darrington, and I start at once to carry it out.
“It is to go to General Grant. the chief of the
army, and tell him all. and I feel that he will spare
1m

“I know that it is along and dangerous ride, and
Vhat short work is made of spies; but I shall reach
General Grant and return in time.
“ Do not be anxious, and tell my father that I
will not fail, and only to be as tardy in carrying out
his orders against poor Dean as he can, and I will
come.
“ Now I can say no more, for I must be off.

“ In hope for the best, LOIS.”
With the letter in her hand Grace Mortimer
hastily searched the room, and then descended to
the general’s quarters.
She found him walking up and down the room,
his hands clasped behind him.
“ What! not in bed yet?”
“No, sir: I came—”
“ I hope nothing has happened to Lois,” he
said, in a startled way.
In answer Grace handed to him the letter, and
his voice rung as he said:
“ I must dispatch my escort after her, for she
can never make that ride alone.”
“ Her riding-habit and hat are gone, sir, and
she has evidently had an hour’s start, and you
know what her horse can do.”
“ Yes; but the escort may be able to overtake
her by changing horses where they can do so.”
“ But, would you bring her back, sir ?”
“ Yes; for she cannot stand the ride: but she

“ I regret I did not send to General Grant at
3‘.

In. fifteen minutes more Lieutenant Brackett,

“ Use your spurs, men, and do not spare your

(To be continued—comincnccd in No. 33.)

 

The Lynchings Since January 1.
SINCE the 1st of J anuarythe number of scoun—

In detail the

Georgia, 2: Iowa. 0'

)
Ohio. 3: Oregon. ‘3:

Tennessee, 7:
. . 9.
ginia, ~.

“Vest Virginia, ‘2. In

These returns, it will be observed, are for six

1250. Hanging

his ratio the number of executions will be much
maller than in any year since 1875.

Texas takes the lead in lynchings. as it does
Take it all around. it is an unhealthy
The legal hangman may not

 

 

 

ment.

“ Yes, sir, and gave him your report and also

General Delafield grasped the unofficial letter,
“ I thank you, Lieutenant Brackett,” he said,

“ I hope the appeal for the life of the gallant

" I regret to sav, lieutenant, that Major Dar-

“ “'hnt does he say f“ asked Grace, in a whis-
per, as General Delafield glanced over the offi-

“ This is an order to try Darrington by drum-
licad court-martial in the morning. and if found

“ The letter is simply a regret that under the
circumstances nothing can be done to save poor

“Though the general says he doubtless came
here to see Lois, he hints that it would be
best, in these (lays of suspicion, to keep her from
being mixed up in the matter, as she might be
thought by some to be giving him secret infor-
mation. especially after his daring raid through
our lines, when he seemed to know just where to

1y toward me; but he is merciless toward Darring-
gerous foe in the army opposing us, and thinks

and covering up his actions under a pretense to

“ So I feel toward him; but you see I can but

“ Now, you had better go up and try  get
Lois to retire, as I am confident that she Will not

“Uf course. I will say nothing of what has
“Oh, no: but let her know that I have writ-

ten a personal letter to the general, asking his
clemency, and she will hope for the best, and

In his courtly way General Delafield escorted
Grace to the door, and then returned to his medi-

The room was dark, the only light coming

d BLED."
Tom I).

Let not thy heart be troubled. oh. my friend,
At the desert thy weary labor brings;
The gloomy forest hides a thrush that sings,“
The darkest night will shudder to an end,
The thorny path perhaps (lolh heaVenward tend,
The chrysalis concealeth golden wings.
The earth has hidden all her precious things
_ That man to gain her womb with toil must rend!
1— Bo shalt thou toil, altho’ the way be dark
(1 And sick Despair be gnawing at thy soul
Because no man hath praises for thy name;
Some dawn a psalm of praise may sing the [ark

U'
D

Planted thy standard on the walls of fame!

The Daisy Detectives;

 

 

BY CHARLES MORRIS,
AUTHOR or “ \in.i) DICK HACKET,”
WHITE siIEIk," ETC., ETC.

 

CHAPTER XIII.
AT THE FOOT or TIlE BLUFF.

der. They listened intently.
- from below. The silence of death reigned.

They looked down the cliff
in deep darkness.

, The moon was low in the sky

side of the stream.
“ They’re done for, sure,” said Joe.
“ “Ion’t never kick again,” rejoined Jack
with a brutal- laugh.
“It was a mighty good idea.”
“ That’s so.”

up?
there.”
“ There’s no hurry about that.

eyes about.
quiet them like we quieted the boys.”

bu’st his way out.
an ax or a hammer.”

murderous souls with their night’s work.

river-bank. The bays were very far from dead.
But they lay stunn

until it became too late.
Had all turned out as they expected and in-
tended the boys would certainly have been
dashed to death. But instead of falling on the
jagged rocks below, Bob came crashing down
into the dense thicket of bushes that concealed
the mouth of the secret passage.

These broke his fall, and though he struck the
ground beneath with a loud crash, it on] suf-
ficed to knock the breath out of him. Hg lay
there stunned, but not seriously injured.
Coal was more unlucky. He struck Where the
bushes were not quite so thick. The shock was
terrible. His left arm lay broken under him,
and several of his ribs were fractured. Had he
struck the rock that lay but a foot to the left
death would have been sure. As it was, after a
single groan of pain, he lay utterly insensible.
on the crushed bushes which had broken the
worst of his fall.
For an hour they lay there, without sound or
motion. Coal was still insensible. Bob’s senses
had returned to him, but he was in no humor
for moving. He felt as if every bone in his body
had been dislocated. Aches and pains torment-
ed him from head tofoot.

At the end of this time Coal stirred, and a
groan of agony came from his lips.

“Hist!” cautioned Bob. “Keep that down.

 

Don’t matter Whether you’re hurt or not. If you
fotch them devils here it’s all up with us. Ain’t
hurt much, be you?”

“ I’m dead,” groaned poor Coal. “ I’m clean
killt.” De blood’s runnin’ outer me in bucket—
fu s.

“ Dro that tafl’y,” answered Bob, indi naut—
ly. “ ou’re worth ten dead boys yet. it up
now, and don’t lay there playin’ funeral.”

Coal at this sharp command, strove to obey.
But he sunk back with a cry of anguish.

“ Oh, my arm, my arm!”

Bob rolled over to him, with a growl of ill
humor. But his mood changed after he had
examined the poor darky. He knew enough to
discover that his arm was badly broken, and
that he had received other hurts.

“That’s ugly papers, Coal." he said, after
shifting him into a more comfortable position.
"Hope you ain’t going to peg out. \Ve’ve got
ter keep mum, anyhow. If them fellers above
there find out we’re alive it’s all up. They’ll
settle us in a jiffy. Jist wait. I’ll fotch the
boat up and put you in. Then We kin let the
river float us away like it did last night.”

“But what’s to cum 0’ Missy Clare?” asked
Coal, in a feeble voice. “She’ll be drefl’ul
skeered in dat dark hole. Can’t go ’way an’
leab her, neber. Don’t tmbble yerself ’bout
Coal. He ain‘t much ’count ’longside 0’ that
lubly lady.”

“ Clean furgot all ’bout them,” acknowledged
Bob. “ There’s Miss Clara and her lover both.
Think you kin stand it awhile while I go fur
’em?’

"Jiss you go. ’Tain’t no matter ‘bout me.
You fotch out Missy Clare.”

“ I’m tamally shook up myself. Don’t b'lieve
I could swim to the boat. I’ll fetch Mr. Somers
and make him swim for it. Don’t you go groanin’,
old chap.”

"W'on’t make de least bit noise. But jiss
wait till I git out 0’ dis. Den I’m gwine to luff
out de yell I‘m bottlin’ up now.”

Bob turned and crepit toward the entrance to
the secret passage. e was too sore to walk
yet. and was forced to drag himself painfully
forward. Fortunately he had no bones broken.

It was only the shock of the terrible fall that
disabled him.

Forcing his way through the bushes he soon

found the narrow rock opening. This he enter-
ed, and in a few minutes reached the ascending

passage.

He found the way very steep and difficult in

his disabled condition. Yet the boy was resolute.

Foot by foot he moved upward.

Some loose earth which he disturbed rattled

down the passage. It was the sound of this

which the prisoners had heard when they sprung

to their feet with sudden hope.

Other sounds came to their ears, as they con—

tinued to listen with fluttering hearts. There

was a rumbling noise. which was followed by a

scratching and a peculiar creak. What it all

meant they could not imagine. But a gush of

fresh air seemed to lift the choking air of that

close apartment. A noise followed like the

creeping of some animal.

Unable to bear suspense longer, Somers called

out, while clasping the form that nestled in ter-

ror by his side:

“What is that noise?
there?”

He waited in suspense for a response.

“ Ain’t right sure whether I‘m a whole person,
or only a slice of a person,” came in Bob’s famil-
iar tones. “ But I‘ve a notion if you hadn’t let
them there candles go out you mought see some-
thin’ ’bout the size of a boy.”
“Gracious Heaven, it is be! It is Bob!” ex-
claimed Clara. with a wild revulsion of feeling.
“ We are safe! We. are safe!”

Her face fell on the shoulder of her lover. and
a flood of tears relieved the intensely wrought-
up feelings which she had long repressed.

“ Ain’t quite so sure 0’ that,” muttered Bob.
“Kinder squally ’round here yit. What made

Is there any person

 

you let the candle go out?”

“ LET NOT THY HEART BE TROU-

When thou hast gained the summit of thy goal,—

The White and Black Pards.

“THE

ON the verge of the river bluff stood the two
- villains, who had just committed an act of mur—
No sound came

. But all there was

and its slanting rays only touched the opposite

“Shall we go down the bank and look them
It won‘t be safe to leave the bodies lying

VVe’d better
go back and see if there’s been any prowling
If we catch any spies we’ll have to

“And we’d best take a squint into the houses.
The woman‘s all right, but the man may try to
Them boards wouldn’t stand

They retired from their post, satisfied in their

It was fortunate for Bob and Coal that the
murderers put off their investigation of the

and helpless, and a search
just then would have enabled the murderers to
finish their ugly work. Fortunately they left it

“ It burned out.”

“ There’s more on ’em there.
eyes? Wait. Guess I got some matches.”

In a moment more the light ofa match flushed
through the room.

It revealed on one side the two lovers clasped
arm in arm. Clara’s face wet with the tears she
had just shed.

()n the other side it showed the homely, but
honest face of Bob Buttermilk and his sturdy
form, attired in a ragged suit that was much the
worse for his recent adventures.

“ Jolly, but 1 like ter see that,” he ejaculated.
“ (‘oul and me knowed if we only left you here
and kept out ourselves you’d coxne‘ together jist
like taters and gravy. “'ish the little nig was
here. now to see it. Jist hold on a minute. Here‘s
a candle. Like ter take another squint at that
picture.”

But the lovers separated in hasty confusion be—
fore he got the candle lit.

“ “'hat is this?“ cried Somers, who had just
discovered the open door. “Did you enter by
this door?”

“ You bet. And that's the way out, too."

“How have. you found it? And where have
you been all these hours 5”

“ Ain’t got no time to answer conundi'ums
now. Tell you all arter ’while. Me and Coal’s
been through a course 0’ sprouts, now you bet.
But we got to git outer this instantcr. ’fore them
blamed rascals come ter finish us. Follcl‘ me.
But be mighty keerful. It’s awful steep."

“ Is there a passage out that way?”

“ You bet your jolly head on that. Jist wait.
Here‘s somethin‘ I ain’t goin’ to leave. Coal and
me diskivered this here box, and I reckon it‘s
our plunder.”

He placed the candle so that its light shone
down the steep passage. Then clasping the
, heavy box in both arms he carefully began his

descent, followed by the hopeful overs. who
ten minutes before had seen nothing but death
before them.

, Bob‘s exercise had brought back his strength.

Though still stiff and sore, he had regained much
of his old vigor, and easily made his way down
with his precious burden.

“ Safe! Safe at last!" cried Clara, on finding
herself in the free air, and seeing the dark wa—
ters of the river before her. “ Thank Heaven for
that!”

“ Don’t ye be too sure,” answered Bob. “And
don’t speak ’bove a whis .r. There’s a lot 0’
chaps above there as’d as ieve cut our threats
as look at us. We got to git away from here
double-quick. Here’s poor Coal now, all bu‘sted
to pieces. Reckon he‘s got all his arms and legs
broke, and ’bout sixteen ribs. You good on the
swim, Mr. Somers?"

Ct  H

 

“ Guess I’ll have to go fur that boat, then,
though I‘ve got most 0 the swim shook outer
me. Keep mum. I’ll fotch it.“

He lowered himself into the water, and swam
out for the boat, which the boys had returned to
the place at which they found it the evening be—
fore.

While he (lid so Clara sought poor Coal, who
was repressing his groans with heroic deter-
mination, though every joint in his body seemed
racked with pain.

She had put little faith in Bob’s extravagant
assertion, and was surprised to find that the boy
was indeed very seriously injured.

While she was quieting his nerves by her soft
touch and soothing voice Bob returned with the
boat, which he had succeeded in reaching.

The reatest difficulty was in getting the in-
jured arky aboard. Bob held the boat while
Somers and Clara carried him. The pain of
moving was more than he could bear. Means
were forced from him, despite his resolution.

They had laid their coats on the bottom of the
boat to make it as softas possible, and succeeded
in getting him into a somewhat comfortable po—
sition.

The others now embarked, Bob taking good
care not to forget his box of treasure.

Then the boat was pushed off from the shore,

and, steered by an oar, floated down the dark
stream. The moon had now set, and darkness
covered all their movements. Into the shadows
of the night they floated, out of danger into
safety.
Yet all this had not passed without some noise.
They had subdued their voices as much as os-
sible, yet the work of getting Coal on board ad
made some inevitable sounds.

These reached the ears of the vigilant guards
at the houses. They emerged simultaneously,
and met in the middle of the rounds.

“ What’s‘all that? Did you car them n01ses .3”
asked Joe.

“Yes. Seemed to come from the river—bank.
Wonder if them boys can be alive yet?”

“ Guess we’d best see. If they are we’ve got
to settle them.”

But when they reached the crest of the bluff
all sounds had ceased. The looked over, but
everything was hidden in dar ness. The stream
flowed on like a river of ink.

“ We’ve got to git down the bank.”

They had to go some distance above for this.
On reaching the river edge it was only with
great difficulty they made their way to the ledge
of rocks. This they could not get over.

“ We’ll have to take the boat for it,” said Joe.
“ Can you haul it in?”

“ By the jumping Joseph the boat’s gone I"
exclaimed Jack. “ W’e’ve been a sweet pair of
fools. Them boys have come to and slid off in
the boat. There’s the very Old Nick to pay.”

“ It’s going to be squally weather soon.”

“ “Te’d best slide too, that’s my notion.”

The scared villains made their way with dif-
ficulty up the steep bank again.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE PAPERS IN THE CASE.
A WEEK has passed since the date of our last
chapter. The late captives are at home again.
The drift down the river on that eventful night
brought them to a village, in which poor Coal
was left. under the care of a skillful doctor, and
with Bob for nurse. Mr. Somers and Clara took
a train for the city, where it was necessary they
should be as soon as possible.
Early the next day application was made to a
magistrate. and writs sued out against the vil-
lains and their tools. -
An effort was first made to arrest the latter.
Oflicers were sent to the locality of the late out—
rages, with warrants of arrest against Joseph
Prime and John Brace.
But the houses were found empty and dmert-
ed. The villains had smelt danger in the air
and disappeared.
Meanwhile Somers had gone to a celebrated
real—estate lawyer with the papers recovered
from the box in the secret chamber. After con—
sultation with him a new plan of action was de-
cided on. The magistrate was directed not to
serve the warrants on Allen and Slowby. For
certain reasons it was deemed best to let them
lie over for the present.
Yet no light alarm dwelt in the residence of
this precious pair of reprobates.
At daybreak that morning they had received
a visit from the brace of warders whom they
had left in charge of their captives, and
heard a statement of the events of the previous
night.
That they stormed and cursed at this news
need not be told. But hard words won’t drive
away hard facts. There was disaster staring
them in the face.
“ Why the deuce didn’t you puisue them and
bring them back?” cried Allen, furiously.
“ I reckon maybe we did,” answered J oe. sul-
lenly. “Jack took the up river and I took the
down. But the night was as black as a nigger’s
heel, and we mought as well have chased a Will—
of-the—wisp. ”
“ It‘s-confounded queer.” exclaimed Slowby,
“all this cock-and-bull story about an under-
ground passage. You don‘t expect us to swal—
low that?”
“ You can do as you please,” retorted Jack.
“ But when I want to work up a lie it won’t be
0’ that shape.”
“ There are traditions of such a passage,” said
Allen. “ I never looked for it. for I never be-
lieved them. But you have told us only of the

 

 

 

escape of the boys.

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