Again came a call to make terms.
“ i 1] go and leave yer thcr outfit, dead

man and all, if yer'll let me ‘hev my
horse.”

“ No! "

The scout at last begun to turn his
eyes across the valley.

He had them miles back on the trail
he had come.

At last he was rewarded by seeing a
horseman appear in sight.

A look through his glass, and he said:

"ll. is Buckskin Sam, and he is just
in time.

"Yes, he will be here just two hours
behind me," and he glanced at his watch.

011 came Buckskin Sam, and his eyes
were roaming ahead and upon the trail.
hiThe man behind the rocks did not see

111.

He was not looking for danger in that
direction.

All he had to fear he thought was in
his front.

, Before the eyes of the scout still lay
that motionless form.

If not dead, he was playing his part
admirably, Buffalo Bill decided.

Nearer and nearer Buckskin
came.

Would he discover that man at the
rocks?

If not he must be warned.

The fellow might see him, might have
found some hiding place, and fire upon
the Verde scout.

Buffalo Bill was preparing to warn
him with a. shot, when he saw Sam
stop, and then ride to the right, making
a flank movement as he had done.

But he had started much further back
than he had.

At this he raised his voice and shouted:

“Ho, Sam, I’ve got him corralled on
this side, and he’s between two fires.”

As quick as a flash Buckskin Sam was
out of his saddle, a word to his horse,
and the animal had dropped upon his
side, and using him for a breastwork,
with his repeating rifle pointed over his
saddle, he called out:

“ Hands up, the-re, or I'll put daylight
through ydu! ”

The man had at first believed Buflalo
Bill’s call was to him, but quickly real-
ized his mistake.

But too late, for Buckskin Sam was
already down and sheltered, his rifle cov—
ering him, and he was fully exposed to
his fire.

He was indeed between two fires.

Up went his hands, and Buffalo Bill
heard his frightened cry:

“ Don't shoot!

“ I is doomed, and knows it, too! ”

“ Walk out from that boulder into
full view of both of us! ” cried Buckskin
8am.

" I'll do it.”

" LeaVe your rifle and belt of arms be-
hind you! ” .

“ Thar they is,” and the weapons were
laid down by the rock.

“No funny business, mind you, or
you’ll get into trouble.”

“ I knows that, you bet.”

With this the man stepped out into
full view of Buffalo Bill. .

" Hands up, I told you! ” '

They were quickly raised.

Buffalo Bill now advanced on foot,
and the two scouts met at the ambush.

“Well, Sam, I was waiting for you,
as ‘lhis fellow had the rocks on me; but
I guess his pard is all right yonder, as
~ihrough firing at random I think I.
wounded him.” -

“ They laid for you here, Bill? ”

“ Yes, but a herd of antelopes dodged
the place, and gave me warning.”

“ Good!

“ But where is this fellow’s pard, for
, this one is' about the worst man in
‘ Arizona, unless it’s the fellow I expect
is with him? ”

“ He lies behind the rocks yonder—
ha! " '

As Buffalo Bill uttered the words he
saw Buckskin Sam suddenly drop on one
knee, throw his rifle to his shoulder, and
fire.

He had fired at a horseman who was
dashing away two hundred yards dis-
tant and shielded by the group of boul-
ders.

Sam

—_~_._——_

CHAPTER XLII.
THE PRISONERS’ DUMB GUARD.

The shot of Buckskin Sam was a dead-
ly one.

The man tumbled from his saddle.

The horse, released of his rider, circled
around and went back to his comrade at
the rocks, then uttered a glad neigh, and
trotted up to Buckskin Sam at his call.

" My own horse, Bill, which those fel-
lows stme from me a week or so ago,”

'said Sam.

“ The man was not dead after all, but
played ’possum well, for he lay motion-
less on his back for two hours.”

’ “ Yes, and I’ll be sure he’s dead now,

. ‘ 401- he's as tricky as a. coyote,” and they

walked toward the man, taking the pris-
oner with them.

He was dead.

He lay upon his face, and the bullet of
Buckskin Sam had cut through his neck.

" As I thought,” said the Verde scout,
turning [him .over.

"He is the man you thought? ”

"Yes. . u

“ And there is what your shot did,
and Buckskin Sam pointed to a. fresh
Wound in the top of the man’s head.

The bullet of Buflalo Bill had cut along
the top, grazing the skull, and leavmg
an n I wound. ‘

“If 3had doubtless stunned him, Bill,

 “i and knowing you were about, when. he

. “came too he played ’possum to get you
' when you came up, or to escape, if he

 ‘ f X could."

“ Yes, Sam, and skipped when we were

, i, ' busy with this fellow.”

“That’s what he! did.”
 ,“ Will you go back to Verde with
h' them?” ” .
 “ Fortunately, I don't have to.

“ How is that? " *
. “ You saw my horse come up to me
:iust now? ”

l‘ Yefill t
" “‘ There are no better in the coun 17
than that horse, and he can do all but
talk. ”
g 1 " But he looks tagged now.

 

 

 

 

 

“This other horse belongs to Colonel
Garrett, and it nearly broke the colonel’s
heart when he was stolen.” ,

“ I am glad he’ll get him back."

“ Like mine, he’s trained, and I’ll tell
you what I’ll do.” '

“ What? ”

“ Write the colonel a note and send it
by my horse, and you can go right on,
as I happen to know you are in a hurry."

“ I will be glad to do so, Sam.”

With this Buffalo Bill and Buckskin
Sam securely bound the prisoner, and
then the former mounted his horse and
rode rapidly away on his trail, for he
knew that he would be behind time in
keeping his appointment.

After Buffalo Bill had departed Buck-
skin Sam thought for a moment, and said
to his prisoner:

“ Now I think of it, Nat Low, I’ll send
you to Verde, and your dead pard with
you, for if anything should detain the
party to be sent after you, and night
come on, the coyotes might eat you, and
bad as you are I don’t want that.”

The man shuddered, and Buckskin Sam
ordered him to mount, meaning his own
gorse, which the outlaw had stolen from

1m.

The man hesitated, but a prick with
the point of his bowie knife made him
obey}:I with promptness.

“ ow, Nat Low, wh did 'ou tte
Buffalo Bill’s life? ” y 3 a mm-

“ We didn’t know him.”

. “ I do not believe you, for I think you
were sent out to kill him by some one
at the fort.”

“ Tain’t so.”

“I belieVe you and your dead pard
are secret members of the Black Broth-
erhood band, and I shall so state in my
note to Colonel Garrett.”

“ Lordy! don’t do that, Sam, for horse
stealing is the worst we have done, least-
wise me, though my pard were a. leetle
Wickeder.”

“ You were both alike.”

With this Buckskin Sam sat down
and with a. pencil wrote a note to Colo-
nel Garrett, in which he explained the
whole affair. '

Then he ordered the man to dismount
agaln, and the note, addressed to the
colonel, was firmly pinned upon his
breast.

The next move of the Verde scout was
to make a,gag, and this he thrust firmly
into the mouth of his prisoner.

Again the man was forced to mount,
his legs were secured beneath the horse,
the reins were tied..up securely, and next
Buckskin Sam turned his attention to
the dead man.

The body was strapped across the sad-
dle of the animal stolen from Colonel
Garrett, and the two horses were tied
bit and bit, and started upon the trail
for the fort. \

They went off at a center, the prisoner
writhing in his saddle, and. Buckskin
Sam watched them until they disap-
peared from sight, four or five miles
away.

Then he mounted his horse and once
more followed on the trail of Buffalo Bill.

CHAPTER XLIV.
THE Two PASSERS-BY.

Miss Redwood was ahead of time in
reaching the rendezvous appointed with
Bufialo Bill to meet the Revenge Rang—
ers. .

She had hoped to find the scout al-
ready there, for she wished to have a
talk with him.

But he was delayed, as the reader
knows.

From some reasor_ she‘ could not ac-
count for, her Revenge .Rangers were also
delayed. -

It was strange, for they were always
prompt. 

She had hitched her horse, and was
pacing to and fro when she heard hoof-
fall's approaching. ,

At once she was upon her guard

She knew that she might find a foe
there as well as a friend.

She crouched down into the thicket
near where she stood and waited.

The hoof-falls fell louder and louder
and the horseman came on at a canter,
for there was but one.

Another moment and he appeared in
full View.

She started as she saw that he was
dressed in black, was masked, and she
knew that he was one of the Black
Brotherhood.

Were others following him?

Would he pass and not see her or her
horse?

She had not gone direct to «the little
camp appointed as a. rendezvous with
Buffalo Bill, but had halted a. short dis—
tance before reaching it.

But she hoped she would not be seen,
and so she crouched low down in her
place of concealment.

The man continued on at a canter,
looking neither to the right nor to the
left.

She muttered a. deep sigh of relief as
she felt that he had gone by and had not
seen her.

But were there others to follow?

Quickly she arose and led her horse
into deeper concealment.

Hardly had she done so when she again
heard the sound 9f hoofs.

She at once rushed to her place of
hiding.

Were other men of the Black Brother-
hood band coming, or were her own men
near? ~

There she waited and watched.

Nearer came the hoof-falls.

Soon a. horseman came into sight.

He was riding at a gallop, leaning over
in his saddle and 1was watching the

nd as he went a ong.
gfiHue was directly upon the trail of the
masked horseman, who had gone along
ten minutes before him.

The girl uttered a. moan as she beheld
the second horseman, for she had recog-
nized him. '

It was Rupert Redwood, the young
r_ .
{afighepassed within two hundred feet
of the crouchingi girl, but 8110 gave no

recogni, on.
Si??? sggmed very evident that she was
there without Rupert RedWOod’s per-

 

 

 

 

mission, that she did not wish to be
seen by him.

Her face was deathly white, and she
trembled violently, as though in great
fear of being discovered by her brother.

But he rode on at a gallop, his eyes
iiowncast upon the trail he was follow-
ng.

He neither saw nor suspected her
presence there, that was certain.

When she had passed her by unseen
she gave another deep sigh of relief.

Then she buried her face in her hands
and uttered a moan of both bodily and
mental pain, seemingly.

Thus she remained for a few moments,
and was rising to her feet, when sud-
denly she was startled by hearing a dis-
tant shot.

“ My God! what does that mean? ” she
cried.

Then for the first~time she seemed to
realize that the trail taken by the masked
man in black was the very one leading
to Fort Verde.

It was the very one that Bufialo Bill
must come along to reach the rendezvous.

And along that trail had gone Ru‘pert
Redwood, following the Man in Black.

Who had fired that shot?

What did it mean?

Had it been fired by the Man in Black
at his pursuer, Rupert Redwood, or
had the latter killed the man he pursued?

And again, thought the girl:

“ Was Buffalo Bill the one who fired
that shot, or had it been fired at the
scout? ”

None of these questions could the girl
answer, and in the midst of her quan-
dary she again heard hoofs approaching.
(To be Continued—Commenced in .No. 738.)

The Doctor’s Crime.

BY A DETECTIVE.

Dr. Thomas Bigelow sat in his oiiice,
industriously puffing away at a cigar
and evidently pondering some trouble-
some problem, when a. young man made
his appearance and nervously exclaimed:

“ Come to Mr. Danton’s at once.”

The doctor sprung from his chair, put
on his hat, seized his case of surgical
instruments, and rushed to the designat-
ed place, near at hand.

Reaching it, he was conducted to a
room where, on a sofa, lay a man some—
what advanced in years, in an-uncon-
scious condition and breathing—rather,
gasping—at long intervals, his head rest-
ing upon a pillow that was stained with
blood from a terrible wound near his left
temple.

“ How did it happen? ” asked the‘ doc-
tor of a. woman who sat beside the sofa,
holding the hand of the injured man—-
her husband—in her own. 7

“ I do not know. He was found, a few
moments since, in the walk leading to
the highway.”

“ It is‘ a very serious injury,” observed

Dr. Bigelow, as he wiped the clotted

blood from Mr. Danton’s brow and cheek.

At that instant, Mr. Danton opened his
eyes—heretofore closed—and, fixing them
upon her who sat motionless near him,
while a rational expression stole over
his countenance, faintly articulated:

“ Good—by. He did it for fear—”

Leaving the sentence incomplete, he
relapsed into insensibility, which con—
tinued until some .two hours later,‘when
his heart ceased to beat.

“.He was murdered,” said the doctor,
slowly.

“ My husband dead —— murdered! ”
shrieked Mrs. Danton, in a. tone of agony
and despair that almost curdled the blood
of those who heard it——the doctor, the
young man who had summoned him, and
a servant girl. ,

It was nearly eleven o’clock at night,
but the town officials were promptly poti-
fied of what had occurred and came to
the scene of the tragedy, as did many
others who had learned concerning it—
some influenced by the morbid curiosity,
ever excited by such a. "crime, others, to,
if possible, assist and comfort her so
suddenly widowed. .

Fortunately, the telegraph—office in the
place was a “ night ” office,'and the local
authorities—unused to such cases and
aware of the difficulty that they would
experience in working up this one—sent
a message for assistance to a. detective
agency in New York, from which a man
was immediately. dispatched.

At the inquest, the following forenoon,
this detective, Wilkes by name, not far
from thirty, years old, of medium height,
slight in build,.with regular features,.a.
smooth face, a. light complexion, sandy
hair, eyes whose color could not be seen
owing to the blue glasses that he wore,
decidedly nervous in his movbments—
said:

“ That a emurder has been» committed
admits of little doubt, but remains to be
proved. The first thing to be learned is
the motive for the crime; and, to this
end it is necessary to know the past his-
tory of theyictim.”

His evident acquaintance with- the
proper manner of investigating the case
won the confidence of his employers.
Then,” to questions asked by him as deft-
ly as they could have been put by. a
Parisian magistrate, Mrs. Danton, who
sat with boweddlead, responded:

“ My husband, Lewis Danton, was born
in a. house that stood where this stands,
November 23, 1820.

“ By the death of his mother, he was
left an orphan March 6, 1850; and, hav-
ing neither brother nor sister, he, two
menths. later, started for California to

.seek his fortune. He engaged in mining

quite successfully, and then invested the
proceeds of his labor in mercantile busi-
ness" in San Francisco, at which he was
also prosperous.

“ The climate there not agreeing with
him, in October, 1864, he came East as
far as Chicago, where he speculated in
various stocks, realizing handsome re-
turns from his investments. There I be-
came acquainted with him early in 1866,
and was soon after married to him.

“ Desiring to pass the closing years of
his life in his native place, he came here
in May, 1868, where we have since re-
mained. .

“He has always been the kindest of

 

husbands, and I have every reason for

 

believing that he has ever been honest
and trustworthy in his business affairs.

“A child was born to us who died in
infancy, our only child.

“ I am his sole legatee.”

“Please state the circumstances di-
rectly connected with his death,” Mr.
Wilkes remarked to Mrs. Danton.

“We were sitting in the library last
evening, engaged in conversation, when,
just as the clock on the mantel struck
eight, there came a ring at the front
doorabcll, and presently our servant girl
made her appearance, saying: ‘A gen-
tleman wishes to see you, Mr. Danton.’

“My husband went to the door and
had been gone, as it seemed to me, a.
long time, when our man-servant entered
the library bearing his bleeding and ap-
pafently lifeless wbody in his arms. I
told him‘io place the body on the sofa
and go for Dr. Bigelow, which he did. ‘

“I supposed my husband had fallen
in one of the fainting-spells to which he
has lately been subject, and had no idea
how severely he was injured until the
arrival of the doctor.”

“Where is your maid—servant? ”

“ Here I am,” responded a girl sitting
near Mrs. Danton, rising.

“ Did you recognize the gentleman
who called to see Mr. Danton?” Mr.
Wilkes inquired. ’

“ No, sir. As I opened the front door,
the wind extinguished the light in the
hall, and it was so dark I‘could not even
see his outlines.”

“You (did not recognize the voice,
either? ”

“ No. sir.” -

V “ Did you relight the hall-lamp? ”

" Yes, sir, but not for several minutes,
as I did not wish to do it while Mr.
Danton might be at the door.”

“Was the door closed when you went
to relight the lamp? ”

“ It was."

“ Did you hear anything that was said
by Mr. Danton or his caller?”

“ No, sir.”

The man—servant being called, testified:

“I had been to the post office to get
the evening mail, and, returning with
it, was half-way up the walk leading
from the gate to the front door, when I
hit my foot against something which,
stooping, I found to be Mr. Danton, lying
motionless. I carried him into the house,
placed him on a sofa, and went for Doc-
tor Bigelow.” '

"About what time did you get back
from the post office? ”

" The train on which the evening mail
arrives passes through this place at
7:55—”

“Then the assassin cannot have left
here on that train,” observed Mr. Wilkes,
half to himself.

“ Oh, no! it does not stOp here at all;
leaves one and takes another mail—pouch
while running at a. rate of forty miles
per hour.”

“ The time when you returned was? ”
observed Mr. Wilkes, interrogatively.
“ Not far from twenty minutes past

eight."

Dr. Bigelow was next questioned.

“ What time were you called here last
evening? ”

“ I did not consult my watch and have
no means of knowing. I should think
it must have been nearly half-past eight.”

“ You came immediately that you were
summoned ? ”

“ Yes, sir; I seized my, case of surgical
instruments and started at once.”

“Your—” began Mr. Wilkes, but he
did not finish the sentence; instead—
“When you saw Mr. Danton did you
realize how seriously he was injured?”
he asked. ' '

“I thought he must be fatally hurt.”

“ That the injury was brought about
by foul means? ”

If Yes-J!

“Why did you think so?”

“Because, though aware that he had
fainting spells in which he might fall
against some solid object, he was not of
sufficiently heavy weight to strike such
an object with force enough to inflict
so terrible a wound.”

“ Was he unconscious when you arrived
here? ” _ '

“ He was.”

“Did he remain so until his death?”

“For a moment he seemed to recover
his consciousness.” ‘

.“ Indicated in what way? ” ..

“ He opened his eyes, looked at Mrs.
Danton, and said, ‘Good-by.”’

“ Is that all he said? ”

" When relapsing into unconsciousness
he added, ‘ He did it for fear—’ ”

“Ah!” ejaculated Mr. Wilkes. “ He
doubtless meant that his assassin stood
in fear of him. Were you his family
physician? ” -

I! Yes-’1

“ How long have you been so? ”
« “ Most of the time since I located
here, in 1876.”

“ Nearly ten years. In that time one
comes to repose great confidence in his
medical adviser. Did he ever say any-
thing to you that led you to imagine
that he had enemies? rather, that there
were any who were in his power, did he
choose to exercise such power to their
disadvantage? ”

“ Never.”

“How long have you been practicing
medicine? ” .

“ About thirty years.”

" Where were you located prior to
coming here? ”

“ Immediately prior to coming here I
traveled in Europe for two years. Before
that I was located in Presburg, Penn-
sylvania.” '

Mr. Wilkes asked no more questions
and left the room where the inquest had
been conducted to go out-doors and care-
fully examine the surroundings of the
house.

No event of whatever character or im-

portance, retains public attention for
any great‘length of time, is more than a
“seven—days’ wonder.” So_it was with
Mr. Danton’s murder. Of course, there
were numerous conjectures as to the

guilty person, but to no one did suspicion

attach to an extent warranting an ar-
raignment. Mr. Wilkes acknowledged
himself “puzzled” and left the place.
Gradually it ceased to be a subject of

 

discussion.

 

One morning, some six weeks subse—
quent to the occurrence of the tragedy
two gentlemen entered Dr. Bigelow’s
office.

"Good—morning, Mr. Wadleigh,” said
the doctor, cordially, addressing the
more elderly, of his callers, and evidently
waiting for an introduction to the other,
with whom he was not acquainted.

‘ Good-morning,” responded Mr. VVad-
leigh, who then, placing his hand upon
the doctor’s arm, added: “ It is my pain—
ful duty, as a sheriff, to arrest you.”

“ To arrest me? For what?” inquired
the doctor, in an angry tone, shaking
the hand from his arm.

“ The—murder—of—LeWis—Danionl ”

The effect of those five words—slowly
but emphatically delivered— upon Dr.
Bigelow was terrible. He became white
as marble, reeled so he came near fall—
ing, quivered in every fibre of his being.
When he was able to speak—

“ By whom and on what grounds am I
charged with the crime? " he asked.

“1 will answer your questions,” said
the gentleman who accompanied the
sherifi, as he removed his false hair and
beard and put on a. pair of blue glasses.

“The detective!” exclaimed the doc-
tor, in amazement.

“Exactly,” replied Mr. Wilkes. “We
may as well be seated, while I explain
matters,” he continued, calmly, throwing
himself into a chair, after locking the
door and dropping the curtains, to pre-
vent any interruption by visitors, profes-
sional or casual.

“At the inquest,” he went on, “I
could but notice your seeming indiffer-
ence and coolness, and knew that they
must be assumed, as it is quite unnatural
——not to say impossible—for one pos-
sessed of human impulses‘not to be vis-
ibly affected by the sadness of such an
occasiOn.

“In your testimony you said that im-
mediately upon being summoned to Mr."
Danton’s, you seized your surgical instru-
ments’ case and started. The messenger
had not informed you in what direction
your services were desired, yet you
seemed aware—intuitively—that medi-
cine was not the thing especially needed.
Later, I learned that, while going to Mr.
Danton’s with the servant man, you
asked, ‘ Is he very seriously wounded? ’
when this servant had not told you whom
you were to treat.

“Examining Mr. Danton’s grounds—-
separated from the land upon which this
office is situated only by a. low fence—
I found the grass had recently been trod
upon by some one who had passed to and
fro between this fence and the path
leading from his front door to the high-
way. In this trampled grass I saw some—
thing glistening which I picked up and
privately retained—a valuable diamond
—a possible clew, I thought, though I
said nothing to any one concerning it.

“I learned that you were engaged to
a wealthy lady of this place, many years
your senior, who was formerly Mr. Dan-
ton’s ward, in whom he always had a
fatherly interest. Perhaps Mr. Danton
objected to the marriage, and hence arose
a feud between him and Dr. Bigelow
which resulted in the former’s assassina-
tion, I reasoned. I could not learn one
thing unfavorable to your character since
you located here, and every one men-
tioned the remarkable friendship between
you and Mr. Danton.

“But—going to Presburg, where you
claimed to have once been located, I
found that no one of your present name
had ever practiced medicine there, though
a. ‘Dr. William Stirling,’ whose age and
personal appearance nicely corresponded
to your own, had, from 1870 to 1874,
been located there; that he was a very
able physician and surgeon and had a
large practice; that he was guilty of
certain ‘shady’ transactions, necessitat-
ing his unceremonious departure from
the place in 1874.

“Returning to this "place, in disguise
and unbeknown to the local authorities,
I learned that you had been accustomed
to wear a handsome diamond ring, which
had not been seen on you since the night
when Mr. Danton was murdered; that
your afiianced had been informed by her
one-time guardian that you would not
make her a desirable husband—though
he had preferred no special charges
against you.”

When he finished, Dr. Bigelow, with
perfect sang froid, said:

“I was the ‘ mysterious ‘ caller. I had
heard that he objected to my marriage
to her whom I had asked to become my
wife, who had promised to wed me, and
at once went to inquire about it. He de-
clared that he was informed concerning
my past history, and should proclaim it
to the world if I did not cease my at-
tentions tothis lady. Infuriated, I struck
him with the loaded cane in my hand,‘
severely, I knew; I had no“idea that I
had dealt him a. fatal blow.” ‘

Presently, in a tremulous voice, he
a (1‘63:

“Since coming here, I have tried to
lead an honorable life, but a cursed fate
seems to have followed me, thwarting my
endeavors. Had I the chance to do it, I
would commit suicide rather than be
known as the murderer of Mr. Danton.
I am in your hands; do with me as you
please.”

He was tried, found guilty of unpre-
meditated murder, and sentenced to
twenty years’ imprisonment at hard
labor, a" sentence which he is now serv-
ing.

It is almost needless to add that “ Mr.
Wilkes ” and I are one and the same per-
son. .

THE “ COMPANY ” ACCEPTED.

,An English journal tells an amusing
anecdote concerning a. wealthy Irish lady
whose summer—house is situated near a
garrison town in Ireland. A few days
ago she sent an invitation to Capt. A——-
to take tea with her, saying that “the
pleasure of Capt. A——-—’s company is re-
spectfully requested,” &c.

To her astonishment, she received by
an orderly the following note: “En-
listed men John and Smith have been
detailed to do guard duty, but the re-
mainder of Capt. A—’s company ac-
cept with pleasure Mrs. N———’s polite
invitation.”