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ly past his car, just touching the skin of his
cheek and seeming to sear it as if red—hot, then
curving down to resound on his chest as its fur.
ther flight was Checked by the thong about the
wrist or its ruffianly user.

“ You, too, cully f” cried Dan Dunn as he half-
turncd, to Send his fist straight into the ugly
face of Mace Wilson. “ Now 1 have hit you
fair, pardner!”

So far it is possible to give the details, for
even mom who had apparently been ready and
waiting for the “circus,” seemed taken aback
by its sudden outburst, and thus far they had
acted independently, so far as they had taken
action at all. But now the evil gang began to
act in concert, as though determined to carry
out the shrill commands of the tall mask.

Dan Dunn antic1pated this from the outset,
and had taken wha; measures he could to guard
against being Worsted, though he had not
reached the Gardens in time to make his pre-
cautions of much avail.

lie knew now, what he had only suspected be
fore: that Berry Barfort had been lured into a
trap from which he was never intended to escape
with life. And knowing this, his first thoughts
were given to that luckless personage.

Having partly cleared the way by temporarily
disabling at least two of the evil gang, Dunn
Sprung to where Barfort lay like one dead, still
insensible from the effects of that terrible
blow. And with a heavily—loaded, supple-han-
dled billy gripped in his left hand, he faced the
Night Hawks as they surged forward.

Une burly ruffian reeled back With flattened
nose, and a mate went down at the same time,
his senses knocked out if his brains were saved
by the thickness of his skull. And for a score
of seconds it seemed as if the blackened-eyed
sport possessed a dozen arms, each one filled
with the pOWer to knock strong rascals right
and left.

But no one man could long withstand such a
savage rush, let his powers be what they might,
and none too soon did the detective’s “ right
hand ” perform the duty assigned him.

lVitli a crash and a jingle of breaking glass
the central chandelier fell to the floor, almost in
the midst of a frightened bevy of shrieking
women and bewildered men, the oil spreading
swiftly, and the angry flames leaping up with a
dazzling glare!

In swift succession two other clusters of lamps
were cut down, the fall of each adding greater
terror and confusion to that which already
reigned almost supreme. Even the Night Hawks
were disconcerted, and scattered like chaff be-
fore the frantic rusb of the less guilty partici-
pants in that eventful masquerade.

“ Police! Croder’s making a raid!”

It was the voice of Robert Turnbull, but only
Dan Dunn recognized it then, and into his paint—
ed face there came a grim smile at the very au-
dacity of that expedient. He knew —and so
would those rascals, when they took time for a
sober thought—that the city maisharhad no right
to lead such a raid as this wild yell heralded.

But the very audacity of the ruse proved its
success, and with cries and curses of angry
fright, the stampede became almost general.

Freed from his close—pressing enemies, Dan
Dunn stooped and picked up the limp body of
Berry Barfort, swinging it across his shoulder
as though its weight was naught.

A single glance showed him in which direc-
tion the gang was for the most part fleeing, and
though it gave him a greater space to cover in
the bright light, he unhesitatingly dashed across
the floor, now beginning to blaze up from the
broken lamps, leaping to the ground at the
opposite end of the pavilion.

Even as his feet left the flooring, he caught
the rallying yell of the Night Hawks, and knew
that he was still far from safe. If Berry Bar—
fort was only conscious! if he could only use his
legs for flight, his hands for fighting.

The course he had deemed best to take placed
the pavilion almost directly between them and
the gate, just outside of which was hitched his
gallant little mare, Brown Bess. Only for that!
If he could only gain the wagon, he would ask
no further odds.

All this flashed through his brain with the
rapidity which only such peril can inspire, and
by the time his feet touched the ground, after
leaping from the pavilion, Dan Dunn was cool
and elear-witted as ever,read y to catch at and im-
prove the slightest chance for life and liberty.

Althou b the detective could not be sure of it,
Robert ’I urnbull had never lost sight of his
chief, e vcn while busiest at work. And now,
that work accomplished as far as lay in his
power, the gallant little fellow still further
proved his value as an aide.

“ Cover, boss!” he cried in guarded tones, as
he dodged along under shelter of the shrubbery
so as tointercept his chief. “They’re coming
hot—foot, but try if we can’t swap off on ’em !"

There was no time for full speech, but Dan
Dunn instantly divined the scheme which the
wiry little detective had in view, and at once
acted upon it. He leaped into the thickest part
of the bushes, then turned abruptly to the right,
crouching as low as the nature of his burden
would permit, running swiftly for a few yards,
then pausing where two trees rose from the
same root, dropping Barfort to the ground and
drawing a brace of revolvers.

The time for child’s play was past, and from
this time on he meant to give full value to all
who claimed it by crowding him. So far he
had dealt blows, not to kill but to save life.

The instant he saw that his chief caught his
idea, Robert Turnbull began to act his part,
veering to the left in an abrupt angle, sending
out the peculiar rallying cry of the Night
Hawks, following it promptly with a ringing
yell as he added:

“ This way, mates! Yender they go—durn
’em all!" again altering his course a point as he
caught sight of several frightened maskers in
frantic flight through the scattered trees, fear-
ing arrest and consequent exposure as witnesses,
if nothing worse.

And with savage yells and oaths and threats,
the evil gang fell blindlv into the audacmus
snare, still led on by the wiry lure, unconscious
that every second thus wasted was being im-
proved to the utmost by their most dreaded
enemy in trying to preServe the life which they
had been sworn to extinguish that very night.

(To be continued—commenced in No. 302.)

 

How to Tell One's Age.

 

JUST hand this table to a lady and request her
to tell you in which column or columns, her age
is contained, and add together the figures at the
top of the columns in which her age is found,
and you have the great secret:

I 2 4 8 16 32
3 3 5 9 17 3;
5 ' 10 18 '5

7 l l 19 .3 )

12 ‘30 56

1 3 21 37

14 22 .58

1") 3 3‘)

134 2-1 40

2') ‘25 41

2b ‘36 4‘2

.37 27 3

28 23 44

29 29 45

I 30 4b

.51 Ill 4!

40 48 48

41 49 4‘}

42 50 ’10

I 51 51

44 5'3 ’32

45 535 i i

46 54 34

'47  )3

5f”; 56 36

37 57 '37

)‘5 SS 33

‘39 59 )9

()i l (3') f i0

01 ill ill

b" 62 6‘3

bi 63 b I

THE CHIEFTAIN’S FAREWELL.

BY BILL KNOX, (The Banner Petr.)

 

 

FareWell, forest! From your coverts
I am banished by the pale-face;—
For he sou: ht me in the Wild glen
Where I grew from a slim stripling
To the giant you now see me:

And he bore me to the Eastward—
To the land or reservation s,

And a captive he has made me.

. Farewell, cascade! Farewell, rapids!
Farewell. mountain stieam and torrent;
Let thy mist in mourning settle
o’er the canyon gulch and morrainc:
For the cliieflain bows his dark plumes—
Bows. a captive to the pale-face—

For the pale faCe he has sheltered
All the winter in the forest.

Farewell, mountains! Never shall I
With these dull eyes gaze upon thee.‘
Nevermore will «by mad torrents
Leap to welcome me. the lost one;
ForI ain fallen! I, the Chieftain,
Am a slave unto the pale-face;

I. the greatest of the dern's,

Am now but a wooden haqu /

Wind River Clark;

THE GOLD HERMIT;

OR,
The Ghouls of the Placer.

A Romance of the Great Wyoming Range.

 

 

BY LEON LE WIS,

AUTHOR or “ THE BOBTAIL BONANZA,” “ THE
COWBOY conninas,” ETC., ETC.

 

CHAPTER XXXVI.
TROUBLE FOR CAMPUS.

THE horse to which Captain Dawson and Miss
Camp had confided their destinies proved wor-
thy oi‘ the trust they had reposed in him, and
guided himself in the intense darkness far better
than they would have been able to guide him,
even if they had possessed an intimate knowledge
of the route.

He not only traveled homeward at a rapid
gait, but he stuck to his proper route, with a
faithfulness whicn few men could have equaled
and none could have surpassed.

The young couple were thus left at their leis-
ure to talk of all the mysteries and problems of
their situation. _

The captain told Miss Camp all that he knew
concerning his lost sister, and gave her an
account of the efforts Vi hich had been made for
her recovery, while she gave him a brief résumé
of her simple but pathetic history.

“The one great consolation of my life,” she
concluded, “ has been the devotion of Mrs.
Camp, who has now been dead a few weeks only.
No mother could have been kinder than she has
always been to me.
was a teacher of music and a the branches of
English. so that no one could have been better
qualified than she was to give me a good educa-
tion. Mr. Camp, too, has been as kind and de-
voted as any one could be. The fact that they
’had no children of their owu caused them to
lavish all their affection on me."

“ All this was certainly very fortunate for
you,” said the young oflicer, who could not help
feeling very grateful to the worthy couple for
having done so much for the maiden. “ nd
110w long have you known this wretched Cam-
pus?”

“ Oh, almost from the hour of my adoption
by the Camps," was the anSWer, " but it has been
only for a couple of years that he has been en-
deavoring to pay me attention, and only a few
weeks that his manner has been threatening
and violent.”

OccaSionally, as they thus exchanged their
confidences, the captain would look back and
listen, to satisfy himself that there were no in-
dications of a pursuit by Campus.

At length they caught a glimpse of two or
three lights in the Indian village at no great
distance ahead of them, and the sight gave them
both an intense joy and relief.

“ You see that we. are all right, Miss Camp,”
observed the young officer. " The horse has
Come as direct as he went. I think we had bet-
ter drive first to the tent of your foster—father.
He is not only in great distress about you, but
he will be able to assist us in the solution of the
great problems crowding upon us.”

“ As you see fit, captain,” returned the mai-
den, with grateful fervor. “ I place myself in
your hands.”

The couple had almost reached the spot where
the captain had first seen the vehicle, and were
proceeding at a walk , the route being rough and
crooked, when the horse suddenly shied at some
object beside it.

Ere it could leave the trail. however, it was
seized by the bits in a vise-like grasp, and in-
stantly brought to a halt.

At the same instant a pewerful dark-lantern
was turned upon the scene, and the captain saw
that he was being held up by three persons,
who were easily recognized as the Brooker boys
and their sister.

The latter held the lantern, and was abreast
of the vehicle, on the high side.

Abe Brooker was opposite her, on the other
side, while the other brother had the horse by
the head.

“ It's them. sure enough!” cried Emily, in a
voice husky with rage, as she sprung forward
and flashed her light over the Couple in the ve—
hicle. “Here is the girl!”

“ You’re right,” returned Abe Brooker. “ Here
is Campus.”

Captain Dawson comprehended.

The trio were mistaking him for Campus!

“ The wretched liar and hypocrite!” cried
Emily Brooker, as bitterly as furiously. “This
time we’ll finish him!"

The young officer comprehended his peril.

“Hold!” he cried. “I am not Campus, but
Captain Dawson!"

An incredulous howl responded.

“ Bring your light nearer,” added the captain,
hastily, as he began tearing off his disguise.
“ Don’t you recognize my voice? I am really
Dawson!” .

The trio drew nearer, and when he had shoved
up one of his sleeves a few inches, showing his
white skin. they could do no less than accept his
assurances and the eVidences of their senses.

“True, you are Captain Dawson,” acknowl—
edged Emily Brooker, who had often seen him
at the fort and elsewhere. “ But how is it that
we find you with Miss Camp, who has so long
been missing?”

“ 1 found her at the but of Eidola, where she
has been held a prisoner by the orders of Horatio
Campus!”

A strange cry of wrath came from Emily, and
was echoed by her brothers.

“ It was Campus who caused her to be miss-
ing,” exiilained Dawson, “ be having captured
her and carried her off to the hut in question.”

. “ The villain!" cried E:nily. “ What was his
purpose?”

“ He wanted to force her to marry him.”

Another how] of wrathful consternation came
from the brothers and sister.

“ And how did you get track of his baseness
and treachery?" queried the young squaw, with
forced calmness.

“ \th, by disguising myself, as you see. and
following him," explained the young (‘flicen
who now began to realize that he and Miss
Camp had nothing to fear from these irate red-
skins. ‘

“ And you tracked him to Eirlola’s?" pursued
Emily.

The captain assented.

“ He drew: there with this buggy?”

“ He did.”

“ With what idm?”

 

“ With the hope that he would terrorize Miss

In her younger days she-
I

 

Camp into the acceptance of his suit, and that
she would consent to be driven away to the fort,
and from there go to cne of our great Western
cities and live happy ever afterward.”

“ But she refused?” ’

“In the strongest of terms, and then he re-
solved to kill her and sink her body in the lake.
When she reminded him of his engagement to
you, he said he ‘hated the very sight of you’
and that you were ‘ nothing but a. squaw.”’

“ Oh, the villain! But you were able to rescue
Miss Camp uninjured from his clutches?”

“ As you see.”

The glances exchanged by the brothers and
their sister were full of suppressed fury.

“ Where is he now?"

The captain hesitated about informin the
irate trio of the bound and helpless condition in
which he had left Campus.

As bad as the red—Skin had been, the young
officer was too generous to assist the jealous
and furious Brooks rs to wreak their vengeance
upon their perfldious associate.

“ I left him near Eidola‘s,” he answered.

“ Dead,perhaps?”quer1ed Abe Brooker, grim-

y“ Oh, no. I didn’t harm him i”

“ Then you certainly left him bound hand
and foot,” declared Ally Brooker "‘ or you
would not have been able to rescue Miss Camp
and make your Own escape. You must have
carried him beyond the Sight and hearin of
Eidola, or she would have hurried to his re ief,
and he Would have overtaken you long ago!”

The young officer remained silent, but he did
not fail to remark with what crafty ability the
red-skin had divined the situation.

“Among the inducements offered you to
marry him, Miss Camp,” said Emily, turning
to the rescued girl, “ was anything said about
money—or gold ’9”

“Oh, yes,” was the answer. “ He said if I
would marry him, he would dig up the gold
stolen from Wind River Clark, and go away
with me to some greatpity and enjoy it!”

Another explosion of wrath succeeded, and

the trio jabbered in their native ton ue so
furiously that even Captain Dawson cou d only
form a general idea of what they were say-
in .
g You cannot state just where Campus is at
this moment, captain?” was the query with
which Emily Brooker at length turned to the
young officer.

“ Not with absolute certainty—no!”

“ Then we shall have to go and look him up
for ourselves,” avoWed Emily, with suppressed
vengefulness. “ Of course you have no further
use for this conveyance?”

The captain shook his head, at the same time
springing out lightly and assisting Miss Camp
to follow him.

“ It’s easy to finish our journe on foot,” he
added, resigning the reins to Emi y, who lost no
time in taking her place in the vehicle. “ The
lantern belongs to Campus, and I will leave
you in possession of that also.”

The two brothers hastened to place them-
selves beside their Sister.

“ We’ll make things hot for that vile traitor !”
announced Emily, in a voice of concentrated
fury, as she started the horse and proceeded to
turn him in the direction from which he had
come. “ Meanwhile, Captain Dawson, it is un-
derstood, I hope, that we have no quarrel with
you or with Miss Camp?”

“ Oh, perfectly.”

The trio were soon flying Out at a gallop in
the direction of Eidola’s, while the captain and
the rescued irl, arm-in-arm, resumed progress
toward the ndian camp.

“I forgot to say, captain,” remarked Miss
Camp. “ that I know where the gold stolen
from Wind River Clark is hidden!”

“ You do? That is very important!”

“ Campus asked me to go and see it,” explain—
ed the rescued girl, “thinking the sight of it
might tempt me to accept him, and I complied
with his suggestion in the hope that I should
have a chance to escape during the journey.
The step proved as vain for me as for him, how—
ever.”

Captain Dawson expressed his thanks for the
intelligence.

“ We‘ll come back to this subject later,” he
added.

1

CHAPTER XXXVII.
NEARING THE TRUTH.

As the couple neared the tent of Father Camp
they remarked the gleam of a solitary candle
through the canvas on the side nearest to
them.

Within, at a sort of desk which was his pul-
pit, medicine-chesf and store-house, sat the god
missionary in an attitude of pain and dejeetion,
which attested only too clearly how deep was
his grief at the mysterious absence of his adopt-
ed daughter.

“ Clearly enough,” he exclaimed, as he gained
his feet and began walking to and fro in the
tent, as if swayed by an excitement too deep to
allow him to remain motionless, “ Horatio is
lying to me, and has been a hypocrite and liar
from the beginning. I begin to see that all my
efforts to make a good and truthful man of him
have failed. I believe he has carried Isabella
off to some retreat in the hills, and he may have
even murdered her! How shall I discover the
truth? W hat measures can I take to wrest his
secrets from him?”

A rush of light footsteps just without the tent-

at this moment gave him such a start that he
was obliged to lean upon his desk for support.

The next instant Isabella led the way into his
presence.

“ Ah, thank God!” was his cry of welcome
and relief, as he sprun forward, clasping his
hand to his heart. “ eaven has heard my
prayers! You live, darling Isabella, and have
come back to me!”

“ Yes, Papa Camp—with the aid of Captain
Dawson,”replied the rescued girl, as she nestled
amoment in the arms opened to receive her.
“ Poor. dear papa,” and her glances scanned the
dark lines on his face pityingly. “How you
have suffered !”

“It’s all ended now," returned the mission—
ary. with streaming eyes, as be pressed the
maiden to his heart with one hand, while he of-
fered the other to the young officer. “And
so yop have been looking for her, my dear cap—
tain'l’

“Or rather I have been conducted to her
presence by what men call fate and what you
term providence,” declared the young officer,
with smiling joy, as he shook warmly the hand
offered him. “She has been a captive at Eido—
la’s ever since the day when she vanished from
sight!” r

“A captiVe? And at Eidola’sl How came
she there?” asked the missionary.

“ She was carried thither by Campus.”

The clergyman seemed overwhelmed by this
proof of the wickedness and duplicity of his
adopted son.

“Give me the details,” he enjoined, as he
hastily advanced a chair for the use of the cap-
tain, inviting him by a gesture to be seated.

The story was soon told as known to the read-
er, but not without many an exclamation and
comment from the sympathetic bearer.

“I see, captain,’ he declared, when all the
facts were before him, “ that it was a very great
mistake to bring Isabella to the Reservation.
What I should have done was to resign my
charge here and remain with her in Wyoming
City. With all due charity and consideration
for the shirt-comings of such of my flock as
Campus and the Brookers, I cannot shut my
eyes to the fact that all I have done here or at-
tempted to do cannot reward me for these terri-
ble afilictions.”

“And yet I am not sorry that she came," re—
turned Captain Dawson, with singular solemnity
of manne r, "and I think you will claim that
there has been a higher wisdom than man‘s
when I add that her presence here seems likely
to result in her restoration to her kindred!”

The missionary was so startled by this de-
claration that he was unable to speak, and
could only look his questioning astonishment.

“ Yes, Father Camp;" pursued the young offi—
cer, with a gladness that radiated from every

 

lineament, “I have no doubt whatever, from
facts which already reached me, that this dear
girl is my sister!”

“ Why, how can that be?” demanded the won-
dering missionary. ’

“I will soon show you.”

The young captain hastened to give the facts
concerning his lost sister, and at every word
the look of delighted wonder upon the face of
his hearer became more and more equuent.

“Certainly, here are very striking indica-
tions of the truth of your convictions,’ acknow-
Iedged the missionary, after he had briefly
weighed the captain’s revelations and sug—
gestions. “ The resemblance of Isabella to
your mother is certainly a very striking and
important confirmation of your views since it
can hardly have been acmdental. W’hat are
your own views on this very weighty matter,
my dear child?”

“I fully share the convictions of the cap-
tain," replied Isabella,with glowing features,
“ that I am really the lost daughter of General
and Mrs. Dawson!”

“ Well, well, let us see if we cannot find some
way of verifying the matter,” proposed the
missionary. "As you are aware, I still have
the little frock in which yOu came to me, and
Mrs. Dawson will not fail to recognize it at a
glance if you are really her child. When shall
we be able to secure the presence of your mo-
ther captain?”

“In the course of to—morrow, sir. In the
mean time, if you are willing, Isabella will go
home with me and remain with my betrothed
until the arrival of my mother, for whom I will
instantly send a trusty messenger.”

“ Thanks, captain,’ returned Father Camp.
“I am very glad you have thought of this ar-
rangement, for I am really in no situation to
guard her from Campus as you and your brave
boys can. The truth of your theory or belief
becomes more and more evident with every
thought I give it, and I can do no less than
place Isabella in your care until after your
mother’s arrival."

Eager and excited, the good missionary
hastened to his desk, unlocking one of its com—
partments, and proceeded to make a hasty
search in it.

“ Yes, here’s the precious frock of which I
was s king,” he said, as he produced a small
parce which had evidently been wrapfied up
and sealed with the greatest care. “ ewill
let your mother break these seals with her own
hands. In the mean time, on tain, I will go
with you and Isabella to r. Clark’s, and
assure myself with my own eyes how safe and
comfortable she will be there until the weighty
problem which has devolved upon us has been
definitely decided."

Miss Camp and the captain expressed their
pleasure at this proposition, and in another
min’ute the trio were on their way to the her-
mit s.

 

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE MOTHER’S SECRET.

For. some time after the departure of Ca tain
Dawson in his Indian disguise, as relate , the
hermit and Nettie waited patiently for his re—
turn, discussing their plans for the future.

“ It will be hard to leave that dear old cottage
in the woods forever,” at length remarked Net-
tie, after her father had spoken of the necessity
of returning to a more settled and safe region.

“ True, my child,” returned the gold-tinder,
with a kindly smile, “but it would be harder
still to undertake to live there, after the notori-
ety which has lately attached itself to my name.
W hile you were still a little girl, and I had
never found a grain of gold, we were compara—
tively safe in Obscurity, but that day has now
gone by, and Will never return.”

“ I realize all that as strongly as you do,”
avowed Nettie, “ and I also feel how necessary
it is for us to make our way to some place where
we can enjoy the benefits of Civilization. It is
high time for you to be getting something more
out of life than you have had for mung; long
year past, and l’m sure that Mrs. awson
wouldn’t like her son to endure longer the perils
and privations which have been his portion
Since he entered the army.”

“ It is agreed, then, that we‘ll leave the camp,
with the captain, bag and baggage, in the course
of to-morrow,” declared the hermit, with the
air of summing up the whole discussion. “ I
must say, now that my thoughts 'have laken a
turn in this direction, that I cannot leave these
scenes a moment too soon.”

The conversation was interrupted at this

point by the rapid approach of a horseman, and
the couple had barely gained their feet in won-
dering expectancy when the new-comer dashed
up to their presence, coming to a halt.
' "Ah, Ebbitts, it’s you?” recognized the her—
mit, stepping toward him. “ I am glad to see
you safely back again so soon. Is there anything
new at the fort?”

“ Yes. something that concerns you, and that’s
why I’m here before going to my claim,” re—
turned the ne w-comer, looking guardedly around
and lowering his voice to a mere whisper. “ In
a. word, those three awful villains you were so
instrumental in jugging have broken jail and
made good their escape. ’

“ What! Harvester, Moonlight and Garry Z"

“ Yes, all three of them!”

“ Any particulars?”

“ No, only that they bribed one of their
keepers, and knocked another on the head,
nearly killing him.”

The hernnt and his daughter exchanged
glances of serious disquiet.

“ Of course,” suggested the maiden, nervous-
ly, “ the villains will hesten to be revenged upon
you and Captain Dawson, if there is the least
chance for them.”

“There can be no doubt of that,” returned
the hermit. “It would not surprise me. to see
them here before morning.”

“ They have certainly come in this direction,”
resumed Mr. Ebbitts, “ and in proof of that
fact I need only mention that your old house
has been burned to the ground, with its con-
tents, stables and all!”

The hermit and Nettie looked too shocked for
utterance, so closely had this announcement fol-
lowed upon the recognition of their peril.

“ Of course I cannot swear that the three jail-
breakers are the incendiarks,” added Mr. Eb-
bitts, “ but it’s only natural to put the two
events together.”

“And as just as natural,” declared the her—
mit emphatically. “\Ve need not doubt for a
moment that the three men are coming this
way, and that they have already entered upon
their proposed revenge!”

“ That’s my view of the case, at any rate,”
avowed Mr. Ebbitts,as he Gathered up his reins.
“ and I cannot too stroneg urge upon you the
necessity of being on your guard against them.
With such a fine girl as that in your care,” and
he nodded to Nettie, with a fatherly smile,
“ you must remember that you’re guarding
something more precious than either go (I or dia-
mondsl"

After Mr. Ebbitts had' ridden away, the father
and daughter discussed their situation anew, in
the light thus thrown upon it.

As time wore on, and Captain Dawson did not
return, a keen sense of anxiety in regard to him
gradually invaded the souls of Nettie and the
hermit, it was so natural to ascribe the delay to
some action or conspiracy on the part of the es-
caped prisoners.

“ Nevertheless, as he was disguised as an In-
dian, and was going into the adjacent camp,”
at length observed the hermit, “it does not
seem likely that he can have had any difficulty
with these men. Let’s try to be patient.”

We need not pause upon the long and painful
wait that succeeded.

Suffice it to say that the apprehensions of the
father and laughter had begun to be very keen,
when the Voice of the young officer suddenly fell
upon their hearing.

“ Ah, there he comes at last,” murmured
Nettie, with a sense of relief we will not under-
take to di‘S(‘1‘lb0. “ But who is that with
him?"

The couple listened for a moment.

“That is Father Camp,” then said the her—

mit, “ and as there is a lady with them, 1 can
only suppose that he has found his missing
daughter.

The joy with which Nettie greeted her lover,
while her father kindly welcomed the mission-
ary, can be readily imaginrd.

“As to this young lady,” said the young of-
ficer, as he took Isabella by the hand and (lrl'W
her toward his betrothed, “ her presence here
is a very curious sequel to what I was saying to
you and Mr. Clark the other daye—aiid in fact
almost every day since—in regard to my lost
sister. In it Wow, I haven’t a particle of
doubt that she is my sister, and I want you to
reCeive her as such until further advices.”

How pleasant and. sympathetic was Isabella’s
reception by Nettie aftersuch a declaration need
not be stated. ‘

“ I may add that she is now known as the
adopted daughter of Father Camp,” resumed
the captain, ' and that I have just rescued her
from a situation of the most horrible anguish
and peril.”

He proceeded to sketch briefly the situation in
question, and then added:

“Under these circumstances, Father Camp
and I agree that her place is here until I can
communicate with my mother, and I am sure,
Nettie, you will be charmed and delighted with
her.”

“ I do not doubt it,” avowed Nettie smilingly,
as she drew the new-comer to her heart, caress-
ing her tenderly. “ I shall be glad to know her
for her own sake, even if your hope of claiming
her as a sister should prove to be without foun-
dation. Come in, Mix-is Camp—come in all. It’s
time to be getting in out of this chilly air.”

The little party had scarcely entered the
cabin, when the footsteps of a horse were heard
approaching, soon coming to a half: at the en-
trance, and the handsome young orderly of the
captain’s company, Mr. Girder, looked in upon
his superiors, with the announcement.

“ Here’s your mother, captain!”

The joyful surprise of all who heard these
words need not be dwelt upon.

Bounding to the door the captain gave his
mother a cordial embrace, and then assisted her
to the ground, conducting her into the dwell-

ng.

“This is indeed a Surprise, mother,” he ex-
claimed, looking around in some Surprise, as he
noticed that the two girls, with the hermit had
slipped into the adjoining apartment. “ hat
can have induced you to take such asudden
start 7”

Mrs. Dawson halted abruptly, throwing back
her vail, and turning an earnest, singular gaze
upon her son. ,

She was still a very beautiful woman, de-
spite the traces her long—time sorrow and deso—
lation had left upon her features.

“ Alfred,” she said, abruptly, and with ex-
traordinary solemnity, f‘ I have come here
alone and unexpected because , I am in the
greatest anguish and unrest a mother heart can
ever know, This very day I have learned that
a certain Father Camp, who has long been a
missionary among these Shoshones, has an
adopted daughter, who is not only a waif from
some Indian raid, but who bears the name of
Isabella—” ' ,'

She paused in wonder and surprise at the ex-
pression which came over the young officer’s

ace.

“ Sit down, mother,” he said, with a singular
smile, as his eyes grew moist, and his breath
came rather hurriedly for a warrior of his
reputation. “ You are just in time! 1, too.
have been busy with this problem! I have seen
Father Camp and also the girl in question!”

“ Alfred! what is there in this wild hope!”
cried Mrs. Dawson, as her features paled to the
hue of marble.

“ That is for you to say, mother.” replied the
young ofliccr, as he gently forced Mrs. Dawson
to sit down and sat down beside her. “ Affairs
are in such shape here that I was about to send
for you. As I said, I have seen both M r. Camp
and his 'adopted daughter. He has saved the
little frock in which she came to him from the
hands of the red-skins who stole her, and it is
for you to say whether you ever saw this frock
before or not i”

As he spoke, he picked up the parcel the mis-
sionary had brought with him, and which he
had laid in a chair at the moment of the ino-
]ther’s arrival, and placed the same in the lady’s
ap.
She whitened to her very lips. as much, per-
haps, from the emotion of her son as from con-
tact with the parcel befcre her.

“Open it, mother,” enjoined the young offi-
cer, his entire frame shaking with agitation.
“and tell me if you have ever seen this little
frock before to—day !”

( To be continued—commeiwed in No. 297,)

 

The Wit of Sydney Smith.

As Sydney Smith was writing one morning
in his favorite bay window. a pompous little
man in rusty black was ushered in. “ May I
ask what procures me the honor of this visit!”
asked Sydney. “ Uh,”said the little man, “I
am compounding a history of the. distinguished
families in Somersetshire, and have called to ob-
tain the Smith arms.” ‘ “ I regret, sir,” said the
wit, “ not to be able to contribute to so valuable
a work, but the fact is the Smiths never had
any arms, and have invariably sealed their let-
ters with their thumbs.”

“ It requires,” said Sydney Smit , “ a surgi-
cal Operation to rlget a joke well into a Scotch
understanding. heir only idea of wit or rather
that interior variety of the electric talent
which prevails occasionally in the North, and
whicb,under the name of wit, is so infinitely
distressing to people of good taste, is laughing
immoderately at stated intervals. They are so
imbued with metaphysics that they even make
love metaphysically. I overheard a young lady
of my acquaintance, at a dance in Edinburgh,
‘ What you say, my. lord, IS very true of lOve in
the aibstract, but——" More the fiddlers began
fiddling furiously and the rest was lost.”

Sydney Smith, calling one day upon a fellow-
contributor to the Edinburgh Review, found
him reading a book preparatory to writing an
account of it. and expostulated with him. “ I
never,” said the wit. "read a book before re—
viewing it: it prejudices one so.”

Of some one: “ He has no command over his
understanding; it is always getting between his
legs and tripping bini up.”

“ Of marriage: “ It resembles a pair of shears
——so joined that they cannot be separated; often
moving in opposite directions. yet always pun-
ishing any one who comes between them."

A beautiful young girl walking in Sydney
Smith’s garden exclaimed,on noticing a plant
which was in some way injured: “ Oh. Mr.
Smith, this pea will never come to perfection!”
"‘Permit me, then,” said the host, taking her
hand, “ to lead Perfection to the ea."

On the dilparture of Bishop elwyn for his
diocese in l ew Zealand: “Goodby, my dear
Selwyn; I hope you will not disagree With the
man who eats you.”

“ No, I don’t like dogs; I always expect them
to go mad. A lady asked me once for a motto
for her do Spot. I proposed, ‘Out, damned
spot:’ but 8 e did not think it sentimental
enough.”

Sydne Smith being ill, his physician advised
him to ‘ take exercise on an empty stomach.”
“ Upon whose empty stomach?” said he.

“ The French certainly understand the art of
furnishing better than we do; the profusion of
glass in their rooms gives such gayety. I re-
member entering a. room with glass allround it,
at the French Embassy, and saw myself reflect-
ed on every side. I took it for a meeting of the
clergy. and was delighted, of course.”

Sydney Smith described the future condition
of Croker as “ disputing with the recording
angel about the dates of his sins.”

To Mrs. (+rote, as she was getting into her
carriage for a long journey, “Go where you
will. do what you like, say what you please,

tion.”

 

 

 

 

  

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