Ilas he come to harm in the pit4~lias he— no, no,
for he left the mine at four o’clock in the after—
110ou——so the overseer told me. And then last
tllulll, all night long, I waited for him,and kept
his mper not for him, and he didn’t come!
Nor today! “That can be the matter? And
there, on the tire now, is his supper, waiting for
bun to come and eat it!

There’s Something strange about Tom
Worth,” and the old man sunk his voice even
lower than usual. “ Something that is very
queer, and hchas nem- lolil If to mu! Is be
afraid to trust his secret with old Ben? No, no!
lle’san honest boy—~11 good boy, and if he wishes
to say nothing to me, why, of course it’s all
right, alld— lla! here he is, at last!” and the
old mun bounded to the door and let down the
latch, as a heavy step echoed harsh and loud
along the narrow, llinty mountain path, along-
side of which the cabin was perched.

In a moment there came a loud rap at the
do. .r. The old man paused and started back.

“Very strange!" he muttered. “Come in,
Tom, my boy,” he continued, opening the door.
“ What do you mean by rapping at— All! Is
it you, Mr. Sonierville: Come in, sir, and tell
me how I can serve you,” and the old man‘s face
wrinkled into a dark frown, as the hawk-like,
saturnine features of Fairleigh Sumerville slo\v-
ly euwrged from the gloom, and showed in the
dim light of the miner’s Solitary lamp.

CHAPTER VII.
AN l'aniconn VISITOR.

A lllCAV r, vindictive frown szit likewise on the
face of theayoung u-illionairc, and u dare-devil,
independent look glanced from his c) es, as he
unviesiiatingly entered the room, and glared
quickly around him.

lie uubuttoned his 0vcrcoat,shook from it the
heavy, cold mist, and removing his cap from his
close—cut hair, struck it several times over his
knee to get the moisture from it.

The old miner glanced at him suspiciously,
but fearlessly, and a still darker and more omi-
nous frown came over his scarred face as he no-
ticed the cool, overbearing deportment of this
strange visitor.

“ Well, sir,” he said, boldly but respectfully,
“ if it suits you to speak now, please say on, and
tell me what brings you here. I am at your
service, sir, but you need not be told, Mr. Somer-
villc, that a miner’s time is precious, and sleep
very grateful after tWelve hours spent two hun-
dred feet below the ground in a bad, unwhole-
some air.”

As he spoke, the old miner seated himself
rather impatiently opposite his visitor.

" In my own good time, Ben Walford—in my
OWI! good time! I am not used to being hurried,”
replied Somerville, with the utmost sang froil'l,
coolly stretching his limbs—which, by the by,
seemed to have recovered entirely from his hurts
of the night before.

Old Ben‘s heavy right hand contracted fear-
fully as he half-arose from his chair; but he con-
trolled himself, and quietly sat down again.

It was not the sight of a heavy revolver pro—
truding from young Somerville‘s overcoat pock-
et that deterred the old man; he simply obeyed
the better teachings of his nature.

“ Very good, .\Ir. Somerville,” he said, quiet-
ly; “take your own time; if I wished to hurry
you, you know the reason. But please remem-
ber,” and the old man’s voice grew stern, “ that
Fairleigh Somerville and Ben the miner are not
over-warm friends! I cannot forget, sir, how
you endeavored to injure me by trying to have
me ' harged from the ‘ Black Diamond ‘—sim-
ply,‘ ' because you could not bribe me into the
‘ Great Allegheny !’”

“ Enough, enough, old man! That is past and
gone, and let it be kept out of sight! I come on
other business.”

“ Then out with it, sir, and remember this is
my cabin, my home, and that, living in a free
country, I am a. freeman—one at all times ready
to defend life and character!” ' ,

The old man looked at the other unfiinchingly
and menacmgl as he spoke.

“ Tut! tut! o dmau; you are on a ‘ hi h—horSe’
without a cause," said Somerville; “ come on
business, I tell you—to make some inquiries of
you, not to quarrel with you.” He straightened
up in his seat, and faced the other more respect-
full . .

“le I said before, very good, sir,” answered
Ben; “ time is precious with me, for it is worth
more to me than money—it is health.”

“ Ha! I did not know that you were a. philoso-
pher, as well as a miner, Ben Walford: but,” he
changed his tone, as‘ he saw the ruddy flush of
anger spreading over the Insulted old man’s face,
“ I am here, on this miserable, nasty night, on
business—that business with your room-mate,”
and he looked straight at the other.

“ My room-mate?"

“Yes. Does not Tom Worth live here with
you .9”

“ He does. I am expecting him now every
minute, and thought a bit ago that your foot-
step was his. What do you want with Tom
\Vorth, Mr. Somerville? He’s an honest man,
and he’ll not be bribed in the ‘ Great: Alleghany,’
if that’s what you come for, I can tell you 1”

“ Blast the‘ Great Allegheny ’ and Tom Worth,
too!” exclaimed Somerville, angrily.

“ I’d advise you,” said Ben. in a low but dlS-
tinct voice. “ not to let Tom lVorth hear you say
such of him: and I tell you again, sir, this is my
cabin."

Fairleigh Somerville saw that he was going
too far. So with a light laugh he said, apolo-
getically:

“ A slip-of—the-tongue, that meant nothing,
Ben. But time flies. Have you heard that Tom
lVorth saved Miss Grace Harley from death last
night ?”

" Yes, sir; I re d it in the papers. Tom is
the man to do that thing. He has nerve and
muscle: but the papers said the horses were
yours, Mr. Somerville! Where were you, and
what Were you doing on the mountain at that
time of night and in such weather?”

“ By Heaven, you’re bold and impudent old
man! What busmess is that to you? And om
Worth, if he tells the truth—”

“ Hr never lies l” fairly hissed the old man.

“ “'ell, then, he’ll tell you that l was knocked
down, senseless, by one of the rufiians. But to
business: I believe Tom Worth to be the third
villain, and that he has abducted Miss Harley!”

Old Ben lValford sprung to his feet, his eyes
fairlv flashing lire.

“ Heed well your words, Fairleigh Somerville!
In matters of this sort. Tom Worth is Ben lVal-
ford, and what you say of him I will take to my-
self! Tom Worth is an honest man, if one walks
on God’s green earth. And—I am bold to say it
—-perhaps you know something of this affair,
more than Tom, save that he acted the part of a
man I”

In an instant Somerville sprung to his feet,
and his hand fell on the butt of his pistol, his
face half-livid,half-pale, yet working and writh-
ing with passion. But he was not too quick for
old Ben Walford. The latter had kept his eye,
as he spoke, upon his visitor, and as he saw the
other grasp his pistol, he suddenly drew from his
bosom a pistol. likewise. and covered the young
man’s breast with its black muzzle.

“ Let go your pistol, Fairleigh Somerville.” he
said, in a low, determined voice, keenly watch-
ing the other the while, “ or my finger will pull
the trigger!”

Somerville slole removed his hand, and his
face, as he did so, was as white as a gravestone.
He rose to his feet.

“ I came to see this young man,” he said, in a
tremulous voice, though his eyes glared like
those of a buffalo—tiger, “ and learn from him,
which it were not difficult to do—for innocence
needs no defense—if the part he played in this
affair was simply the heroic! If it was, I intend-
ed to reward him myself. that was all.”

“ And I tell you, sir,” replied the old man,
slowly putting his pistol away, “ take your les-
son to yourself, and learn this, that Tom W orth
accepts no money but that for which he works
and gains honestly. That is more than many
can say 1”

You speak bravely, old man,” said Somer-
ville, a little tartly, now that the pistol was re—
moved: “ and I’ll say to you that this matter

 

l

"in, .II
in! I‘

shall not drop here; I will see if this fellow was
implicated in that affair. l'll Spend every dol-
lar I have, if needed, in the effort, and if he is
guiltv he shall be punished! .l)o you understand
that!”

“ Yes, and I laugh at you! Tom Worth’s
character. thank God! is not in your hands.
And now, sir, you had better leave this cabin,
else~- l nm in carnest,sii l—you’ll come 10 grief!”
The old man now Spoke very sternly.

Without a word, Squiervillc turned away.
As he did so he glanced at a photograph, hanging
in a common gilded frame, on the rude wall.

This photograph represented an elegant-look-
ing young fellow, clad in rich attire, wuha high,
broad brow, clustering auburn ringlets, a heavy
yellow mustache. and large blue eyes.

Somerville started violently and paused at the
sight of that photograph.

“ Who is thaté” be asked, in a low voicc, still
gazing at the picture

“ That? Why,it’s Tom “'01 th,” said old Ben,
“ taken five years ago, when he had money,
though he was none the more honest then than
now, when he is rough and dirty.”

Without another word, Somerville left the
house and strode :1“ ay at a rapid pace.

“ Hells and l’uries!” he muttered. “ I’rc srcn
his facc before! Now, he must shoulder the
blade! I wi lCI‘L sh him, else—” i

The rest of this sentence was lost, us he hur-
ried a way down the hill. On his way he passed
:1 tall. athletic nu-n, striding rapidly up: but
Somerville paid no heed to him. In five minutes
afterward this same tall man entered the cabin
on the mountain.

" ’l‘luznk Hod, Tom. that you are here :it his! 5”
said old Bi-n. the minor, as the door closed.

(To In! coiilinuctlflcommeucml in No. .195.)

The “ the Town.

BY OLL COOMES.

YEARS ago when IOWa was a frontier State,
Ishmael Lehigh and three other men emigrated
with their families from Indiana and settled in
the edge of a little grove on the Checaque River.
As Mr. Lehigh was the eldest of the part» , the
settlement was named after him. They opened
small farms and made their living by raising a
few acres of corii in the summer, and by hunt-
ing, fishing and trading with the Indians in win-
ter.

In the course of time several other families
moved in and settled at Lehigh; but none of
them were possessed of much vim or enterprise,
and so the place plodded along in a. degenerate
sort of way until finally the California emigra-
tion set in and quickened the business energies
of the settlement, for, as the road ran through
Lehigh, the settlers found a good market for
their produce.

Such a thing as a school, however, was un-
known at Lehigh, and but few parents troubled
themselves about educating their children.
Girls and boys were growing to woman and
manhood in ignorance and vice. The one knew
nothing but the slavery of the kitchen while the
other had no higher ambition than to be the best
wrestler and fighter, and to own the fastest pony
in “ the grov n”

But one dav a young man on his way to Cali-
fornia found his means giving out, and as he
was a school-teacher by profession, and saw a
good opening at Lehigh for work, he stopped
there and made a. proposition to teach a sub-
scription school. Of com-Se, most of the parents
were anxious for their children to have “ book-
l’arnin’,” and subscribed quite liberally for that
purpose. And in due course of time the school
commenced. and—lasted just one day. The big
boys “licked ” the teacher, and putting him out
of the house sent him on toward California.

This ended the school business at Lehigh un-
til it year‘later, when a strapping big fellow
full of conceit and pomposity—with knives an
pistols peeping out of his pockets and boot—

tops—came along and applied for a school, and
'got it. But, this wasn’t all he got; he attempt—

ed to lord it over the boys with a high hand,
and so they doubled on him, and -Well, that
term of school only lasted one day longer than
the other. .
So Lehigh became noted for is pugilistic pu-
ils, from the Mississippi to the Missouri; and
uck Clemens, the bully of the school, won the
name of the hero of the Checaque.

But, time went on and the third man applied
for a school. His name was Lucian Conrad.
He was a pale, blue-eyed youn man with a
pleasant countenance and gentee bearing. His
modesty and unassuming manners impressed the
better class of citizens favnrably,and while they
were strongly in favor of a, school, they did not
want to see him subjected to the ill-treatment
the others had received, and frankly told him of
the obstacles in the way. If Buck Clemens
could only be kept out, a school might be con-
ducted with some degree of success: but to un-
dertake such a measure as that would engender-
had blood among the citizens, for Buck had his
friends. Moreover, Buck was the bully of the
village, notwithstanding he was a boy of but
Seventeen.

Young Conrad, however, insisted that he could
manage the boys, and so the people concluded to
let him try it; and he at once started around
with his subscription paper.

Old J 09! Clemens, Buck's father, was the last
one visited, and when Conrad made his business
known, the old man looked at him critically
from head to foot, then broke into a hoarse
laugh, saying:

“My stars! do ye-‘un think a striplin’ like
yeuw kin run a skule here i"

“ I can try it, Mr. Clemens,” Conrad replied.

“ Great hemlock! yew‘ll not run it the second
day, boy; yew underrate the pluck 0’ our boys.
They're not gorin’ to be bullied around by any
little wlnfi’et: do ye hear me?”

“ I don’t want to bully them: I want to teach
them.” said the applicant.

“ Oh, ya-as, I understan’that; but let me tell
ye, boy, my son, Buck, ’11 take persession 0’ that
skule in one day, and yeou can’t he’p ,verSelf.
Buck’s only seventeen years old, and he’s ther
best man in Lehigh. He can throw the best 0’
them side-bolts, back-bolts, or begor, any way
yer a mind to take him. He’s already licked
every man here, from old Lehigh down, but his
old dad. Oh, I tell yeou, hat seventeen-year-
ole boy’s a screamer—a gia t-l

“ Why, he’s spanked every boy in the diggin’s,
and their dads dassent say ‘ bah :’ but their mo-
thers, f orgittin’ they war ladies, and takin’ ad—
wantage 0’ their sext, undertook to jaw Buck
blind; but, sir, that seventeen—year-old boy jist
stood up with the grit 0’ his ole dad and sassed
them women blue—that's what he done. And
one day some Californians come along and said
somethin‘ to Buck ’bout the weather bein’ bad,
when it was a nice day, and it made Buck mud
to think they’d lied so, and so he bounced one
0’ them and pounded him till he couldn’t 369.
That’s what that seventeen-year-old boy done
to that Californian.

“ And, sir, Buck‘s the bestest jedge 0’ boss-
flesh in this grove, and never made a bet in his
life on a boss-race but what he won But the
best 0’ all that seventeen-year—old boy ever
done war to go up to the Iugin camp last sum-
mer and raise a rumpus, and then lick every
buck in the outfit—sometimes two at a clatter.
Now that’s what Buck is, and do yeou think
yeou could manage a young hurricane like that
child?”

“ I’m not afraid but that your son and I can
get along together,” Conrad confidently averred.

“ Wal, I’ll put him down—jist write my name,
mister. will ye?—but they say forearmed is
forewarned; an’ I’ll bet you the price 0’ an ox
that Buck’ll chaw yer ear afore a week. He’s
got a lummin’ good head on him, and it’s chock
full 0’ mother wit and boss-sense: but I don’t
know how he’ll take to flum-a-dubs like yeou
tellers teach. Now, Pm gwine onto fifty years
mwould ye b’lieve itl—and I don’t know ‘ A’
from a bull’s-foot; and yit I kinder think that’s
none 0? them can beat me on a boss-trade, or
choppin’ wond, or hoeing tobakker. And trad—
in’ with Californians: why, great hemlock! I’ve

 

made a hundred dollars v ere in one year olf 0’
stuff that wasn’t worth tl-A half of the money,
and I hain’t got no bookel‘wnin’ either—ha! ha!
ha!”

Lucian Conrad had little hopes of doing much
with a boy whose father boasted of his own ig-
norance and petty ruscality; but the young
teacher was possessed of indomitable pluck an
energy, and, above all, great will-power; and
so he rented a cabin, constructed seats for the
scholars and a rude desk for himself, and an-
nounced that school would commence on the
following Monday morning.

And when Monday came, the scholars—Buck
among them —— came early to school. At nine
the teachi-r called the house to order, then gave
them a short lecture on the necessity of an edu-
cation, laid down Some rules by which be ex-
pected to conduct the school, and then went to
work arranging the scholars into classes. While
thus engaged he could see that Buck Clemens
was the center of attraction, but he appeared as
if ignorant of Buck’s first perforniauces, and
finally he heard the boy say to the one at his
side:

“ He‘s lettin’ on he don‘t see me; he’s afraid.”

Conrad went on with his work, assigned Buck
to a class 5 eliing in words of two letters, and
when he but thus made the rounds, class after
class was called out to recite.

Finally Buck’s class was called; but instead
or" responding, young Clemens rose to his feet,
took his cap from a peg on the wall and. put—
ting it on, walked deliberately out of the room.
The teacher said nothing. Presently a pistol-
shot startled the School. It was followed by an
outburst of laughter. Soon another pistol-shot
run; out, and was repeated at an interval of
about every ten minutes. The teacher ven-
tured to glance out, as he passed the window,
and saw Buck, with a flint—lock pistol, amusing
himself by shooting at a leaf of his book which
he had pinned to a bush. Still Conrad said
nothing, but went on with his work amid the
giggling and excitement of the scholars.

Suddenly there was a loud report mingled
with a cry of pain outside, and a moment later
Buck came running to the door with his hand
burned and bleeding frightfully.

“ What‘s the matter, Buck 3” the teacher ask-
ed, uietly, indifferently.

“ should think ye could see if ye wasn‘t
blind—oh, that blamed pistol bu'st and tore my
hand off 2” bowled Buck.

True enough, the pistol had burst, and burned
and lacerated his hand badly. The teacher took
out his handkerchief and bound up the wounded
member the best he could, then told Buck to go
home and have the doctor dress the wound or he
mioht bleed to death.

his kindness on the part of the teacher in
face of his—Buck’s—recent conduct, got the bet-
ter of Buck’s bulbdog nature, and he walked off
home without another word.

Conrad went on with the school, feeling a re-
lief in Buck’s absence. Noon came and he went
out and assisted the boys in getting up a new
game of ball which pleased them very much.

So the first day passed away very nicely, but
no sooner had school been called the next day
than the teacher saw mischief was brewing in
the breast of Steve Jones, who had concluded,
during the night. to assume the role ( f bully of
the school until Buck could return and claim his
place. Conrad saw that his time had come—
that he must act. He spoke to Steve and told
him that he must desist from his ill-conduct.

.In an instant Steve was on his feet with his
cent 03 ready for fight, and urged on. too, by
the other large boys who had caught the spirit
of insubordination.

" Stephen,” said the teacher,calmly, yet earn-
estly, as he walked down the room to where the
boy had struck an attitude of war, “ Stephen ”
—and he fixed his blue eyes upon the flashing
eyes of the boy, “you and I are not going to
have a bit of trouble, I know; gentlemen never
fight.” a” '

The boy did not feel the force of his words so
much as the look that he had fastened upon
him. Steve made no reply. He tried to speak,
however, but the words stuck: in his throat—he
stuttered and stammered in a. manner that told
that the spirit of the bully was captive to the
will-power of the teacher. It was like that
mysteriOus magnetism of the human soul, a=
radiated through the hunter’s eyes that quells
and subdues the spirit of the wild beast.

There was a moment’s silence when Conrad
said: '

“ Stephen, put on your coat and let us go on-

with our work. I’m your teacher, and am here
to help you—not to quarrel with you. You are
my friend and I yours.”

Steve dropped his head with a shame that the
whole school felt, for the teacher’s words and
actions had exerted an influence alike upon all.

Steve put on his coat and resumed his study.
Lucian Conrad had won his first victo 'y and
was master of the situation thus far. f only
Buck Clemens had been among the conquered,
he would have been perfectly easy; for, as Buck
was coming back us soon as his hand got well,
he expected trouble. He knew well enough
that Buck inherited from his father the spirit of
the bully, and that no ordinary means could
eliminate it from his nature, as with the other
he s.

So, while Buck was away, everything went
along smoothly after Steve J ones’s defeat. The
scholars learned fast, and their parents were
surprised at the wonderful influence the slender,
blue-eyed teacher exerted over them.

Meanwhile, Buck had heard of the teacher’s
perfect control of the school, and he made up
his mind that Conrad couldn’t come any “soft-
sodder” game over him—that he was goin’ to
lick him, and the boys, too, if they didn’t show
grit worthy of a Lehighite.

In three weeks Buck returned to school with
his feelings worked up to the highest pitch, al—
though he was always like a young bull—terrier
—ready to fight on the slightest provocation.
During the day he did everything in his power
to provoke the teacher to reprimand him, but
Conrad let him do about as he pleased and that
night, when school was dismissed, the bullysaid
to one of his friends:

“ Boys, thar’s no fight in that teacher—he’s
not the grit to tackle this boy, and to—morry
I'm goin’ to tackle him, now mind.”

The next morning the teacher was the first at
the school-house, and Buck was the last. The
latter came straggling into the room, whistling
like a cat~bird, notwithstanding school had taken

u .

ILBuck,” said the teacher, when the boy had
taken his seat, “ I do not want, nor shall I have,
a re etitiou of your conduct of yesterday.”

“ hew!" whistled Buck, “ you’re r’ilin' up,
But, how’re you goin’ to he’p yer-

“ I’ll show you,” replied the teacher, pointing
to the handles of two long hunting-"knives that
Were sticking to the guards in a crack in his
desk.

Buck laughed like a young demon.

“ He’s goin’ to knife me," he said, “ but I guess
I’ll take persession of them knives.”

Buck was then closer to the desk than the
teacher, and springing across the floor like a
young panther-his eyes glittering with tri-
umph—he seized the two knives—one in each
hand— and lifted them from the crack in the
desk. But at the same instant a cry of pain es-
caped his lips and his face became contorted as
if with mortal agony. His arms jerked and
quivered and his body twisted and writhed like
that of a wounded worm. He tried to drop the
knives, but his fingers seemed frozen to the
belts.

The teacher, in apparent surprise, hurried up
to him and asked:

“ Buck, what’s the matter?”

“ Oh, Lord! Lord!” he gas d, “ I’ve taken a
cramp l—a. cramp l—help! help—ah !”

“ Drop those knives," said the teacher.

“ I can't! I can’t git my fingers open—they’re
stiff!" ~ .

A smile lurked around the teacher's lips. He
lifted the c0ver to his desk and put his hand in—
side. As he did so, a scream burst from Buck’s
lips and he writhed and twisted and rimaced
as if in the very agonies of a horrib e death.

 

He could not move out of his tracks. He could
not release his hold upon the knives—each of
which all the rest of the school saw was at-
tached to a cord running down into the desk.

Buck begged and cried for help. The snout
bl'Okl‘ in great drops from his face. The school
was in terror. The teacher was calm. Steve
Jones wanted to go for help. The teacher said
—” No; it is only the effect of his disobedience;
it will scon wear off.”

Buck was nearly exhausted; he could scarcely
stand, when the teacher put his hand inside of
his desk and at the same instant the knives fell
from Buck‘s hands, who sunk down, weak and
fainting.

The teacher took some water and bathed the
boy’s brow; then he sat down by him and talked
in a kind and cheerful tone. Presently Buck
began to recover.

‘ You had a very severe attack, Buck,” the
teacher said.

“ ()h, mercy! I like to ’a’ died.”

“ Buck, if you’d minded me it would not have
happened. it is the result of your bad con-
duct.”

“ Do you think so?” asked Buck, looking up
into the teacher’s eyes with a superstitious fee 1‘
depicted upon his pale face.

" I know it, Buck; and now, look here: I
came here to teach you to read and write and
be a better man. All my labor is for your good,
and now let us give up this fighting business and
go to work, and if you’ll promise to come here
and behavo and try to learn, I'll promise you
that you will incur have another such an altack
as this one."

Buck made the promise, though it “as in a
reluctant manner. lle was afraid the other
boys would laugh at him, and accuse him of
being a coward: but when he found “at they
applauded him for making such a good promise
and resolution_ to be a better boy, he took
courage; and thus the bully of the school was
changed into a quiet, peaceable and obedient
scholar. The teacher had no further trouble
with him, and he taught several terms at Le—
high, after that. But Conrad never dared to
reveal the means that be employed to overcome
the brute force of the boy, before he could con«
quer the spirit of the bully.

The secret of it was, howeVer, Conrad had a
galvanic battery concealed in his desk, the poles
of which were attached to the handles of the
two knives which had been placed there for the
very purpose that they served—to entrap the
bully into the power of the little giant that lay
concealed in the desk.

NIGHT.

BY WILLIAM LISENBEE.

‘Tis night, and Borea. waves her brand of fire
Across the humans, and in the rosy light,
Twinklingr dimly. hangs the steadfast star
Veiled ’ugath the blush that tints the cheek of
big t.
And hark! a sound comes stealing, soft and light,
Like summer winds along a slumbering sea .
"l‘is the Old Year‘s sad farewell in its flight
Beyond the shores of time to be
Numbered with the thousands lost in eternity!

Time flies! Alas, Old Year, you’ll soon be dead!
None weeps for thee: I see no mourners nigh;
But, mark yon cloud, with gloomy folds outspread

Hang like a pull against the midnight sky;
And like the echo of a mourner’s s gh
The hollow winds sweep the cold earth amaln,
Now sinking low, now ,rlsing sweet and high
In weird harmony, a wild and touching strain
Like mulsip’s soft enchautment on a. dreaming
n.

The clock strikes twelve,and lr ! the midnight bell
Breaks on the solemn stillness of the night!

Toll, toll, toll. to!!! Its solemn echoes tell
Another year has winged its farewell flight.

Thro’ Time's wide open gate, most gloriously,
The starrv trains of heaven roll up and shine, .

From their blue hepths like torches on the sea,
Crowning with beaut . that's almost divine,
The infant year. A en, Old Seventy-nine!

The Three Bills;

[Buffalo Bill, Wild mu and Bandbox 3:11,]
on,

THE BRAVO IN BROADCLOTH.
A Story of Deadly Trails.

BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM.

CHAPTER XX.‘
THE LARIAT-TBRO\VERS.

BOTH the desperadoes-who had undertaken to
free themselves from a haunting foe, as they re-
gerded the Bravo in Broadcloth, were noted
lasso throwers.

Six-Shooter Sam had gone into Mexico, when
he first had occasion to dodge justice, and Giant
Bruce had passed some time in Texas, and thus
they had learned to handle the rope and were
never known to ride out without their lariats
Swung at their saddle horn.

Now the two men stepped apart in the shad—
ows, coiled their lassoes and were ready to
throw them.

There stood their victim, tall, slender and up
right, his gaze evidently striving to pierce the
darkness down the valley trail.

He was wholly unconscious of danger, and
seemed to feel that he was all alone.

“ Now I”

With the word issuing from the lips of Six—
Shooter Sam, the two lariats went whirring
through the air.

That of Giant Bruce fell first around the form
of the victim and hauled quickly taut, pinioned
his arms to his side.

The noose of the lariat thrown by Six—Shooter
Sam caught around the man’s neck and was
drawn taut in a second and the victim dragged
violently to the ground.

Then the other end, to which a stone had al-
ready been attached, was thr0wn over the limb
of a tree fifteen feet from the ground and the
form was dragged into the air.

Making his lariat fast to the tree-trunk, Six-
Shooter Sam bade Giant Bruce to do the same
with his free end, and it was tied to a post that
upheld the shed across the cabin front.

“ Now we will see if we cannot find some gold
to save our consciences, Pard Bruce,” said Six-
Shooter Sam.

But Giant Bruce stood in the attitude of one
listening, and bounding away called out:

“ Quick, for our lives! horsemen are coming
this way i"

SixAShooter Sam needed no second bidding,
but sped on after his companion up the canyon
to where their horses were,and mounting in hot
haste they rode away at breakneck speed, push-
ing directly into the mountains and anxious to
avoid all trails.

They had done their deed, and somehow they
felt the more haunted by the act than had their
victim remained alive to dog their steps.-

But this feeling neither dared betray to the
other.

Had they not run off in their fright they
would have seen the “ horsemen ” of Giant
Bruce’s imagination dwindle down to one horse
and rider.

He dashed up to the door of his cabin to draw
rein quickly as he beheld that swaying form.

“ Ah! there has been devilish work done here,”
he said, and dismounting he let his horse go into
the stable and then moved about like one who
was at home.

It. was the Bravo in Broadcloth, as the reader
has surmised, and that he spoke the truth when
he told the scouts that he had not hanged the
man is now known.

He met the scouts, treated them well, he has
been seen, and after their departure sat out in
front of his cabin smoking a cigar, and buried
in thought.

Soon the clutter of hoofs reached his ears, and
11:9 argse as his two riderless horses dashed up to

IS 31 e.

 

v

“'Brave boys! you did your work well.

“ I am happy in having four such allies, dumb
brutes as you are,” and he gave the dogs an at—
(ectionate pat on the heads also.

Then he removed the saddles, and entering his
cabin was soon fast asleep, uumlndful of the
dawning day.

After sevvral hours of slumber he arose and
set to work to prepare breakfast, to the great de-
light of the two dogs.

'l‘his done with, the horses were staked out in
the valley, and taking a pick and shovel the
Bravo entered the stable and raised the dead
form of Injun Al to his shoulder.

Without any effort be strode down the hillside
to a little spot on the bank of the rivulet and
placed the corpse upon the ground.

Then he stood regarding it.

“It is poor Indian Al, my spy, and he was
coming to warn me, 1 am sure.

“ His form and mine are of a size, and then he
always wore a black sombrero as I do, while he
kept his blanket coat buttoned close around him,
and was mistaken in the darkness for me.

“This lariat is of Mexican make, and Six-
Shooter Sam came here from Mexico.

“ The other is Texan, and Giant Bruce was for
some time in Texas.

“ Then, too, hardly any other men in the
mines that I recall, carried a lariat than these
two.

“ How did they screw up their courage to the
point of killing me.’

“ But the ' did make the attempt, and my
coming frig tened them off before they could
discovt r their mistake.

“ Now to bury Indian Al decently.”

He dug a grave, wrapped a blanket around
the form, and soon a new-made mound alone
marked the resting-place of “ In jun Al.”

Then the Bravo went back and studied the
position of the lariat-throwers when the fatal
coil was cast. ,

Taking their trail with the cunning and skill
of an Indian he followed it where their horses
had been left, while they went to the cabin on
their deadly mission.

Then he returns d to his cabin, and mounting
his horse rode into Hallelujah City.

In the edge of the camps was a small cabin,
where dwelt two red-skin miners.

They were quiet men, spoke little English,
worked where they got a job, and troubled no
one.

In the cabin door sat one of the Indians as the
Bravo rode up, and he rose politely and address-
ed Bandbox Bill in his native tongue.

“ \Vhere is Night Eye?” asked the Bravo.

“Vl'orking in the Blue Mines,” was the re‘
spouse in the Ute tongue.

“ Go and find him, Panther Foot, mount your
horses, ready for a. long trip, and come to my
cabin.”

“ The chief has spoken,” replied Panther Foot
and Bandbox Bill rode away without another
word.

An hour after, the two Indians, splendid
specimens of their race, rode up to the cabin of
the Bravo.

He at once led them to the spot where Six-
Shooter Sam and Giant Bruce had left their
horses, and after a few words of instruction
from the Bravo, they started off on the trail of
the two desperadoes.

CHAPTER XXI.
run: Mrsrrnun TRAILERS.

DURING the afternoon of the day following
the scenes at the saloon of the Queen of Hearts,
Texas Jack and Surgeon Powell took seats upon
the benches in front of Kate’s Kitchen, and
Kellie soon after joined by Buffalo Bill and Wild

l .

The face of the surgeon, not concealed by his

Ion hair and head-dress, was so well stained to
the no of an Indian that even the keen eyes of
the scout did not detect the Cheat. ’

As for Texas Jack. it was well that his 1:
spectacles hid his eyes, or the twinkle in wig
would have betrayed his joy at deceiving his
friends.

His mustache having been shaved off, and his
wig of white, kinky hair being perfect, with his
face also stgined and roughened with walnut-
juice, and his spectacles, a bump on his back
which looked natural, and his changed walk, as
completely disguised him as did the Indian rig
of the surgeon, and that neither Buffalo Bill nor
Wild Bill suspected the cheat, was evident.

“ Strangers in Hallelujah City, pard?” said
Wild Bill to Texas Jack.

“ Yes. like you is, rd.”

“ Going to remain ong?”

“ Maybe, can’t tell, fer we may be planted
hour, fer bullets fly lively in these parts.”

“ Yes; but you did not seem to have much
fear of them last night."

“ Not when duty calls, pard. is Red Chief an’
me so skeert as we looks, and I allus am with
ther under dog in the fight.”

“ You and your red-skin friend seem to be
fast rds.”

“ her best in ther world, an’ we has cause
ter be, fer we has been on many a trail to-
gether.” _

“ You are a trapper. I take it?”

“ I are trapper, scout, guide and an thing I
kin 't dust out of in a honest way, parg.”

” hink of mining about here now 3”

“ Like as not, ard.

“ Me and Chief is a-lookin’ around ter
strike a good trail.”

“ Never come across the Toll-Takers in your
travels, have you ?”

“ lVaal, we come putty nigh it, and but fer a
leetle gal in black clothes we might have run
upon a snag."

“ Ah! you have seen then the Woman in
Black, as they call her?”

“ Waal, we got a warnin’ up in ther Shadow
Valley not ter go runnin' round loose, as ther’
was Toll-Takers up thar, so we just lighted out
in this direction.”

“ Who warned y0u ?”

“ “'e seen a gal on horseback, all dressed up
in black, same as ef her mammy were dead, and
we laid out ter catch her.

“ But her horse were too flip fer our critturs,
though they do be fast, and she jist left us out
0’ sight; but when it were dark we seen a leetle
advice writ on a rock ter git. and we got.”

“ Ab! and you know nothing of this wo-
man .?”

“ She didn't stay ter be interdooced, but as
she hinted in that fire-writin’ thet ther Toll-
Takers was anxious ter git intimate with us, I
concluded we’d go.”

“ Did you ever hear of any one else thus warn-
ed b this Woman in Black ?"

“ aal, I heerd tell how Texas Jack, from
Fort L—, got a warnin’ that saved his life.”

. ;:,Indeed! and do you kn0w where her haunt
is '

“ C’u’dn’t tell yer an more than I knows ad-
zactlv' whar ther Toll- akers is.

l , ‘3

“ Ngy’be you knows, pard?

“ As yer-and yer pal-d are Government scouts,
maybe yer is a—lookin’ ter take ther trail 0’ the
To] -Takers ?”

Wild Bill shook his head, and, as he and Buf-
falo Bill walked off together, said:

“ Buffalo, that old man is no fool.”

“ So I thought, Bill.”

“ I believe he and that Sioux chief are on
some special trail.”

“ Perhaps they are, for why the are here no
one knows; but they chipped in last night in
great shape to help Bandbox Bill out.”

“ They did, and I wonder if he knows them.”

“ I had not thought of that; but did on hear
what those fellows hinted awhile ago a ut the
Bravo?"

“ You mean the gang in the hotel?”

u X'es.”

“ They said that some here had an idea that
Bandbox Bill was a spy for the ToileTakers, if not
their chief."

“ Yes. for he was always on hand when an
Overland coach arrived and departed.”

“ I would find it hard to believe.”

“ Aswould I; but this is a strangecountryund
a stranger ple, so we must not besurpriaed at
anything t at turns up; but thereare the fair

 

 

 

 

 

.v»...........,,....... w- “.mmu-rm.” --—mm—

m....

. y
. . i l .
< trauma-canoe. more '

v up... but.“ —. .. county—v -:vr- ‘ m -... n .~ , .. us. 0..."... «- ~i ..-.,.....-.n..n~.u~u.—. we..." .- m... .mes. Wmu—4.,. WW «— 4 mm... ~1~ pm...“ “- .m- «w. ..

“Oman-- .9.

.wm~ w-w:  .

a;

“sec-m q." n :v.\»‘n:4-' mmnvww» .-.-v,<nv-—.w...m «r».-
1 - .  e v -—- .-;~ ,.-...g.,, u.  , H. .1.

.7-