ll r‘ v: .rall- . 41““ 1“ . i - v A “ How beautiful she is, and scarcely over SIX' teen! Who can she be?” Indeed she was beautiful, with her wealth of brown hair, and graOeful, delicate form, clad in a robe of pure white, worn loose and flow- ing, as if the better to keep up the weird char- acter she played. The face was lovely, bronzed by exposure, and every feature perfect, whlle the eyelids were fringed with the longest dark 1.881195; the feet were small, and incased In Whlte canvfis boots; upon her tiny hands $1.10 WOW “1019519” gloves, and her head Was Guarded by a “’th vail Of lightest material. A moment or two Prairie Pilot rubbed hel‘ hands briskly, and bathed her face; then the eyes slowly opened and rested Wlth a stare uP' on the man who bent over her. “You have run me down, sir, at last,” she said, in a stern voice for a girl, and in a tone of sarcasm. “I regret your fall, Miss. I hope You are not hurt,” replied Prairie Pilot, politely. “I was merely stunned—ha! there IS Spec- ter, and unhurt, ’ and rising quickly, she called to her steed, which, with a low neigh, trotted to her side. Gently she patted the faithful animal, and then abruptly turning to the man before her, she said: “Who are you, sir?” “ Men call me the Prairie Pilot,” quietly re- sponded the scout. The girl started, her face flushed in the bright moonlight, and her lustrous, dark—blue eyes turned full upon her captor, and there was admiration in the glance, for he was six feet tall, as straight as a lance, and with a form de- noting great strength and activity, while his every motion was graceful. He was clad in handsome suit of dressed buckskin, skillfull worked with beads and quills; his fringed leggings were stuck in the tops of cavalry boots, the heels of v hich were armed with huge silver spurs of the Mexican pattern. His face was shaded by a broad sombrero, encircled by a silver cord, and a heavy, silken heard, of dark brown, concealed his lower fea- tures and fell down to his belt; but the face was exceedingly handsome—the brOvv broad and high, and the eyes bright, full of intense feeling, and fearless, while the expressions resting thereon were courage and stern deter- mination. His hair, the same color as his beard, was wavy, and hung far down his back, giving him a rather dashing appearance. A repeating rifle hung at his back, and in his belt were three revolvers and a large bowie- knife. From the handsome manbefore her, the mai- den’s eyes turned upon the splendid animal, quietly cropping the short prairie grass, and patiently awaiting his master. A finer steed she never saw, with his long, gaunt body, mus- cular limbs, glossy black hide, arching neck and small head. Brightly glittered the moonlight upon the silver-bespangled Mexican saddle and bridle, and the young girl observed that the rifle, re- volvers and knife of the scout were mounted with the same precious metal. Often before she had heard of the Prairie Pilot, a man who had half a score Of years upon the border, and coming from none knew where. ' His name none knew, other than that men called him Prairie Pilot, scout, guide, and hunter, and in an encounter those who knew him shunned him. “ I have heard of the man they call Prairie Pilot. I feel my capture less keenly, when I know who it is that has taken me,” said the young girl, after a quick but careful scrutiny of horse and rider. “You are complimentary, Miss; but may I ask who is my fair prisoner?” “ Like yourselfi l have a name given me on the plains; I am called the Phantom Spy.” “That I knew. It was to solve the mystery of your masquerade I followed you.” “And now that you have run me down, what is your intention regarding me?” “ To release you, upon one condition—” “And that is—?” “ I have noticed that after you are discover- ed upon the trail of a train, a. band of robbers, under the lead of the Hermit Chief, invariably make an attack: are you their spy?” “ You had a condition, I believe, for my re- lease,” evasively replied the girl. “Yes; promise me that you will not report the train from which I chased you, and you shall go free.” “ If I refuse to promise—what then?” “I will see that you do not, by retaining you as a prisoner.” “ I will promise you in good faith.” “Very well. Can I aid you to mount?” “ NO,” and with a bound the girl was on the back of her steed, when she continued: “I thank you, Prairie Pilot, and before I go I would give you a word of warning: keep away from yonder range of hills, for men live there who seek your life.” “I know it; there dwells the Hermit Chief and his band.” “ Then heed my warning. Farewell.” With a word to her steed, the animal bound- ed away, heading in the direction of a range of hills, some six miles distant, and behind which the moon was slowly sinking from sight, and leaving the prairie in gloom and darkness, with the Prairie Pilot standing erect and motionless, gazing after the rapidly-receding form of the weird—looking horse and rider. CHAPTER III. RRAvo BOB’S ADVENTURE. WHEN morning broke over the prairie the encampment was astir, and Yankee Sam eager- ly scanned the landscape for some sign of Prai- rie Pilot or Bravo Bob. But, nothing was visible, far or near, and preparations for breakfast were carried brisk— ly on, for it was the intention of the traders to push rapidly ahead under the guidance of Yan- kee Sam and Scalp-lock Dave, though they greatly regretted the absence of Prairie Pilot and his right-hand man, Bravo Bob. Suddenly Scalp-lock Dave uttered a cry of pleasure, and over a roll of the prairie were visible two horsemen approaching the motte at a rapid gallop. “The Pilot and Bob,” cried several voices. “ Hold on, fellers; you is only half right. Yes, yonder comes Bravo Bob, but it ain’t the Pilot with him, but another feller; an’ he’s a primer, too, or my name ain’t Sam Sloan.” The truth of Yankee Sam’s remark was at once evident, for one of the riders was recog- nized now by all as Bravo Bob, while the other was a much smaller man than the Pilot, and had a. short black beard, while his hands seem- el tied behind him, and his horse was led by the scout. A few moments more and the two horsemen darted up and were welcomed with aloud shout, to which Bravo Bob responded with a wild war- whoop that made the echoes ring through the “Well, ole hoss, what hev yer to tell us?” cried Scalp—lock Dave, eagerly. _ “ Considerable, comrades; but first, take this robber and tie him to yonder tree, until we have time to set on his case,” and then chang- ing his manner into the frontier way Of speak- ing, which he often used, Bravo Bob con- tinued: _ “Yer see, I follered close onto the trail of the Phantom and the Pilot—as close as I c’u’d; but the’r bosses fairly flew, an’ I was left a long way behind; but I prest the trail hard, and arter an hour came up with traces of a tumble, so I got down an’ s’arched the ground, and, bless yer, I see’d whar the Phantom’s hoss pitched into a prairie—dog hole, and tossed hlS rider a long way ahead. “Wall, here is whar the Pilot overhauled the Phantom, for ther was marks all round, and then the trail of the white hoss branched off toward the hills, and arter considerable trouble I found whar the Pilot had circled round and ag’in struck the Phantom’s trail, and followed it. “Wall, I prest on, too, an’ arter awhile the moon went down an’ I couldn’t see the trail, but I went on, an‘ suddenly heard a pistol-shot, an’ then another, an’ then one of the Pilot’s war-cries. “Then, you bet, I made ole Iron Heart git over the grass, an’ I was a-dashin’ inter the timber when I run inter that thar varmint ag’in’ the tree. , “Wall, we clinched, an’ arter a tumble to ther ground an’ a long tussle I choked him still, an’ tied him; then I caught his hoss an’ waited fer him to come to his senses. “ I hadn’t long to wait, an’ by some pointed argument, with my bowie, I got out of ther feller that the Pilot had gone on inter the hills, with more company than he wanted, jist then. “ SO I concluded to jest make this feller come back to camp with me, an’ when day broke I recognized him as the very devil who kilt Abe Homer two years ago, an’ was sentenced to be hung, but got away; but he can’t git away now,” and Bravo Bob spoke with bitter deter- mination. “ Does yer b’lieve the Pilot’s passed in his checks, Bob?” asked Yankee Sam, very serious- ly. “ I don’t know what to think; but I’m goin’ to find out.” “ How so, pard?” “Why, as soon as we try and hang yonder villain, you had better pram on with the train to the posts. [am going to return to the hills and look up the Pilot.” ,' “ It’s mighty risky, Bob.” ' ~ “Yes, but Prairie Pilot would do the same for me, or you, or any one in need of help. I’m goin’, boys, if I go under.” “Wall, I know yer, Bob, so I won’t argue to turn yer back from yer purpus; but I hates to see yer go alone,” said Yankee Sam. “ An’ so does I, pard,” put in Scalp-lock Dave. “Anyhow,” he continued, “we’ll run ther train onto ther posts, an’ of yer don’t put in an appearance soon arter we’ll return with some boys an’ look yer up, or git some ha’r.” “ Thank you, my friends,” replied Bravo Bob, again resuming his natural way of speak- ing; “thank you. Now let us to work and try this fellow, whom I recognize as the murderer of Abe Homer—” “And I as one of the band of the Hermit Chief, who two years ago attacked a train I was driving in, and plundered it, after killing a dozen good fellows and wounding me; but I got away from the devils,” said a tall teams- ter, approaching, whip in hand. All eyeswere at once turned upon the pris— oner, whose face was the index of his evil heart, and at once it was decided that he should be hung, and that immediately. In vain was it that Bravo Bob questioned the robber, regarding the fate of Prairie Pilot, and of the whereabouts of his band; he would an- swer nothing—only beg piteously for his life. But he begged for mercy to those who felt no mercy, for the band of the Hermit Chief had for years been the terror of the border, and they were determined to make an example of the prisoner then in their power. . Amid the piteous cries of the doomed wretch a rope was quickly thrown over the limb of a tree, and the noose fitted around the neck of the struggling wretch. “Hoist him up!” .was the stern order from Bravo Bob, and a dozen men, who held the other end of the rope, quickly drew him into the air. The end of the rope was then made fast, and quickly the train was in motion, filing out across the prairie, and leaving the timber-island alone with its ghastly spectacle. A short distance from the matte Bravo Bob bade his companions farewell, and, amid a shower of good wishes for luck, branched of! alone upon the trail of the Prairie Pilot. CHAPTER IV. A PRISONER. WHEN Prairie Pilot saw the young girl dis- appear in the distance, he quickly mounted Racer and moved off at a rapid gallop toward the range of hills. After a ride of some moments he changed his course, going parallel with the hills for some distance, and riding slowly, while he cautiously scanned the ground by the lingering light of the moon. , Then he came to a halt, dismounted, and said, in a low tone: “ Down! Racer!” Instantly the intelligent animal dropped upon the ground and lay flat upon his side, the scout also throwing himself at full length upon the prairie. Not long had he been in his recumbent posi- tion when there was heard the sound of hoof- strokes, and soon after the white horse and fair rider appeared in sight, riding in an easy can- ter toward the hills. Without observing the scout and his horse, the maiden passed by within thirty yards of them, when a neigh from Specter caused her to quicken her pace, as though her flight and cap- ture had made her nervous of danger. Hardly had she been lost sight of in the gloom when a word from Prairie Pilot brought Racer again upon his feet, and, mounting in haste, he set out on the trail of the strange girl. Keeping the white form just in sight, and knowing that he was invisible to her, in his dark clothes, Prairie Pilot continued on until the darkness grew deeper and deeper as they drew nearer the shadow of the hills, which now loomed boldly up, not half a. mile distant. As though perfectly acquainted with the sur— roundings, the maiden directed her course to the left, toward a bold and rugged hill, which terminated so abruptly upon the prairie that it formed a cliff. * :Around the base of this precipitous hill the ghostly horse and rider wound, and were lost to the sight of the scout. “ It is certain that I cannot follow her fur- ther to—night, without making my presence known, so I had better go into camp in the foot- hills until the morning, and then strike her trail, for I am determined to track out this den of robbers.” ' So saying, the scout rode in under the sha- dow of the hill, and finding a suitable and se- cluded gulch, in which to camp, he dismount- ed, and leaving the faithful Racer standing pa- tiently awaiting, he moved around cautiously in search of some dried brush, for he was de- termined to have a warm supper after his hard ride. He succeeded in finding some dry sticks, and had just kindled a small blaze, when there came a whirr through the air, a blow upon his head, and he was hurled backward several paces, his arms pinioned to his side by the noose of a lasso. Though thus taken at a disadvantage, Prairie Pilot managed to get his hand upon his revolv- er, and a tall form rushing toward him, fell dead, shot through the heart by the scout. But, before he could free himself from the noose, strong as he was, there flashed forth two shots from the dark underbrush, and Prairie Pilot staggered back and fell his full length up- on the ground, while with discordant yells half a dozen dark forms bounded out from the cov- ert that had concealed them. Their sudden rush startled Racer, who, doubt- less seeing that he could render his master no service, turned quickly, and with a wild neigh dashed away in the direction in which he had come. But the scout had not been killed by the shot, only stunned momentarily, by the bullet grazing his temple, and as his assailants rushed upon him, they found that they had caught a Tartar, and only by their united strength, and by a most desperate struggle, were they ena- bled to securely bind their formidable prisoner. The fire built by the scout had, in the mean time, blazed brightly up, and Prairie Pilot found himself the prisoner of half a score of as hard 3 looking set of villains as he had ever seen on the border. A closer scrutiny of them, and he knew that he was in the hands of the robber-band of the Hermit Chief, and that no mercy would be shown him he well knew, for often had he trailed one of the Bandit Brotherhood to his death, and fearlessly waged war against the bold renegades who spread terror along the frontier. Presently a. horseman rode up to the spot, and after a. few words with several of the men, dismounted and approached the scout. He was a man of striking appearance, clad in a suit consisting of buck-skin leggings, top- boots, a military coat, and Mexican sombrero, while he wore a sword, and a pair of revolvers in his belt. His face was exceedingly handsome, with its bronzed skin, dark hair and mustache, and bright eyes; though there was a certain bold and reckless look stamped upon every feature. His hair was worn long, and his mustache was curled up at either end, while his whole “ make-up ” was that of a border exquisite. He seemed scarcely more than twenty years of age, and was well mounted upon a dark bay mustang, large, wiry and vicious-looking. Prairie Pilot had before seen the man, and in several engagements had endeavored to cut short his career of crime, but seemed to always look after his own, and the young ban- dit leader had escaped. In this man the scout recognized the field chief of the bandits, Captain Ralph, the lieu- tenant of the Hermit Chief. “Are you not the man they call Prairie Pilot?” asked Captain Ralph. “ I am; are you not the man they call Cap- tain Ralph, the murderer and horse-thief?” coolly replied Prairie Pilot. “Hold, Sir Scout, or I will cut you down where you stand,” angrily cried the young ban- dit. “Cutting throats is your trade, youngster.” “ Do you dare me, and in my power, fel- low?” “You dare not unbind me and meet me as man to man, although men say you are no cow- ard,” sneeringly returned the scout. For an instant Captain Ralph seemed about to strike the scout with his sword; but then, as if changing his mind, he sheathed his weapon, and said, quietly: “Your pluck will be tried, sir, ere the Her- mit Chief is done with you. Come, boys; lead him on to the stronghold, but blindfold him first. I suppose it would be useless to attempt to capture his horse? I would give a cool thou- sand for that animal.” “ No, Captain Ralph, there are not horses enough in the band to run down that steed. Shall we take the prisoner at once to the chief?” asked one of the men, who seemed to be an un- der oflicer. “No; father is not at all well, and I do not- wish to disturb him. Put the prisoner in the cliff cave.” SO saying, Captain Ralph rode away, and a few moments after Prairie Pilot was blindfold- ed, and then mounted upon a mustang, after which the party set 03 on a trail leading still further into the range of hills. ~ (To be continued.) DOLOROSO. BY JOHN GOSSIP. This is the song of the soul that dies With love in its heart and love in its eyes: “ Hold me so close in your arms, my own, That I may be happy till life is all gone. ’ Over and over the sweet song is sung In whispers that faint on the faltering tongue; Over and over the heart sings true: “ Darling, I’m dying with love for you." The night comes so soon! it is such a surprise! To think that the daybreak can nevermore rise On the tops of the mountains and send us its glow, Since one is above, while the other’s below! ' The night seemeth endless! 0h heart, canst thou wait 2 Gang}: thou he arken to God, and to man‘s talk of ate 7 Thou dost hear but one voice—thou dost listen to none— And that is the voice of thy love that is gone! Little Volcano, THE BOY; MINER; The Pirates of the ‘I’lacers. A "NAME 0! ll“ All" I“! UNLESS. BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR, AUTHOR or “OLD BULL’S EYE,” “PAcmc PETE,” ETC., E'rc. CHAPTER XXI. PREPARING FOR WORK. FOR one moment they stood glaring upon the lump of dull yellow metal. Their breath came in short, quick puffs. Their faces grew in- flamed, their eyes bloodshot. Instead of blood liquid fire seemed coursing through their veins. Little Volcano suddenly drew back his hand and thrust the nugget into his pocket, scowling at Zimri Coon as though fearing lest he should attempt to rob him—then he fell upon his knees and began tearing up the sandy soil, flinging bits of rock aside with a curse after eagerly glancing at them—now and then utter- ing low, growling sounds of ferocious delight as other golden nuggets were unearthed by his nervous fingers. He had the “yellow fever” in its most vi- rulent form. Zimri Coon stood by, leaning upon his rifle, his eyes riveted upon the flushed countenance of his friend, now scarcely human in its covet- ous madness. For one moment he too had been affected by the burning lust of gold—but the madness quickly left him as he noted its effects upon the boy miner. The frightful change in him acted as an antidote—and well it was that such was the case. “Ef I was like him whar’d we be?” mutter- ed the old man, wistfully watching the boy miner as he continued his frantic search. “ ’Most like we would git to cuttin’ of each oth- er’s‘ throats afore sunset. At best we’d hev thoughts fer nothin’ else but gold—jest keep on a-scratchin’ fer it ontel we drapped down, clean tuckered out, or them ’tarnal cusses over yan- der sneak up an’ fill our karkidges fuller ’n a. Ute’s head is o’ lice. That’s what it ’d eend in. Mebbe ’tu ill, anyhow—he’s so durned head- strong an’ contrairy when he oncet gits sot, thar‘s ’most as much hope 0’ ticklin’ a snappin’- turkle atween the shoulders ’th a straw, as movin’ him .’ I’m ’most sorry we come—I am so !” Little Volcano had eyes only for the gold. Indeed it was a sight to set wild far older and steadier heads than his. Truly the placer was a marvel of richness, were one to judge by the specimens already gathered. Any other than a skilled miner might have passed over the spot scores of times and never suspected what riches he was treading under foot. You have read of placers where the gold lay in such marvelous quantities that the sun’s rays were refracted with blinding rilliancy~ where one could load it into a wagon with a scoop-shovel—provided one pomessed those con- venient accessorys—and much more equally brilliant and truthful. Little Volcano was not so favored; his placer lacked all these glowing attributes—and perhaps ’twas just as well. It is a “queer” sort of virgin gold that dazzles the eye—that lies all above ground, and still stranger soil in which the real gold will not hide itself, burrowing down until it is stop- ped by the clay or bed-rock. In this case an Old prospector would have been fairly pleased; the valley had been a wa- ter-course for ages untold, and at this point had made an abrupt turn against the base of a range. At the foot of this the soil was thin, composed. first, of sand and gravel, mixed with earth; beneath this a few inches of black soil, resting upon hard, fine-grained clay. in this sand lay the bulk Of the gold, unable to pass the dense clay. In some cases—though rarely —a nugget was exposed to view, where the soil was unusually thin, or something had torn up the ground. ,Zimri Coon watched Little Volcano for some time, never noticed by the boy miner who tore up the ground and pried over pieces of stone with his knife as furiously as at first, nearly every minute unearthing a nugget of greater or lem value—sometimes chancing upon a lit- tle nest where the prwious bits of metal lay touching each other, until his pockets were crammed—then with a sigh the old man turn- ed away. He at least had not forgotten the threatening danger — he knew that Sleepy George’s party would not be long in making their appearance, and, once let them suspect the marvelous richness of this placer, they would hesitate at nothing in order to make its trea— sure their own. “They ain’t no use in thinkin’ o’ playin’ sharp on ’em,” muttered Zimri, thoughtfully. “The boy is dead gone. The devil hisself— hide, horns an’ all—couldn’t skeer him out 0’ this. He’ll jest keep on a—diggin’ ontel he smells thar powder a—burnin’—wuss luck! I’d like it, too—ef I dared let myself went—but of I did I wouldn’t know when to stop; then we would be gone, sure!” He gazed keenly around. The scene was pic- turesque enough, but that wild beauty was not in his thoughts now. The towering hills and rocky crags, relieved by the dark-green shrubs and trees, lining each side of the valley, were not half so interesting now as the loose-lying bowlders lying along the bill’s foot. A shrewd smile gradually lighted up his face as he nod- ded toward the perpendicular rock beyond Lit- tle Volcano. “Right thar’s the place—I kin rig it up fit to fight a hull tribe. Them dornicks yender’s jest the ticket. Ef the boy would only wake up to lend a feller a hand—but he won’t ontel he’s clean tuckered out an’ hed a snooze over it.” Though he believed there was an abundance of time, the Old miner had learned prudence in his wanderings, and he at once set about the work he had planned, laboriously rolling heavy bowlders together so as to form a rude semi- circle with the face of the cliff for a back. At first Little Volcano paid no attention to him, but then, as the old man paused, breathlem over his exertion, the boy miner’s better self was awakened, and he sprung to his friend’s assist- ance. “ Keep to your gold-scratchin’, little 'un—I kin manidge by myse ,” said Zimri, kindly. “ They’s no pertic’lar hurry—jest so it’s done afore night.” “ So can the gold wait,” half-laughed Little Volcano, wiping his streaming face. “ I behave I was half-crazy—and isn’t it enough to make one?” at the same time emptyinghis pockets of their precious load upon the shingle inside the little inclosure. “Look at that! Ten thou- sand dollars’ worth, if there’s a cent! and dead loads of it where that came from, too! Old man, we’re the two richest men in California to-dayl” “ That’s good enough, little ’un,” quietly re- plied Zimri; “but it ain’t everythin’. Old as I be, I val’e my life as more’n all the gold ever hearn on. That’s why I’m doin’ this work, in- stead O’ rakin’ in the purty nuggets.” “ You think' they’ll find us, then?” “I know it—jest as sure as the sun is up yen- der, them buzzards o’ ’tarnal cussedness ’ll nose us out here—” “But if Sleepy George alone knew where we were headed for—and he’s past telling—” “ Past smellin’ little ’un,” chuckled Zimri, gleefully. “ Past smellin’ I’ll not gainsay— but I reckon his jawin’ tackle ain’t past work- in’, yit. I told you I didn’t keer about strikin’ the fust blow—nur I wouldn’t ’a’ did as much as I did of they hadn’t pitched onto that crazy critter. Seein’ they did that, I thought I’d mark the varmint—an’ so I did, fer keeps! Sleepy George wasn’t never no beauty, but I reckon he’s no better—a pesky sight wuss, now —fer I tuck Off the eend 0’ his nose—Lord! how the cus did squeal! Reckon he thought the devil was helpin’ him blow his bugb that timehan’ never stoppin’ to cool his fingers, nuther,” and the old fellow went 05 into a fit of laughter that did not improve his wind y. “ If he comes within range here I’ll choose a better mark than his nose,” muttered the boy miner. “ But to work. We’ll finish this first, then rake in what gold we can before they come to trouble us.” “ We’d ought to have more grub; they’s no tellin’ how long the cusses ’ll keep us cooped up -—’tain’t in ’em to stan’ up to thar gruel an’ hev it out like men. They’ll try the sneakin’ dodge, most likely,” grumbled Coon. “We’ve enough for a eek, with care. It will be ended before that time. lVater will be the worst. There’s none nearer than the spring, over yonder, and our canteens won’t hold much.” “That’s easy fixed. They’s plenty 0’ flat rocks an’ good stiff clay. I’ll dig a hole in thar, lay rocks bottom an‘ sides, plaster ’em thick with clay, an’ thar you hev it. But fust git up these walls; then while you’re flllin’ up the holes—fix some with stone plugs in so you kin pull ’em out to shoot through—I’ll ’tend to makin’ the well.” The comrades worked stoutly, never think- ing of fatigue, for both were eager to get back to the gold. Zimri built his “ well” and filled it with water from the spring. It held prob— ably ten gallons, and seemed perfectly tight. A flat stone served as a cover, to keep it from the sun and dust. By this time Little Volcano had finished his chinking. The result was an admirable stone fort, some twenty feet long by ten in diameter, at its widest part, completely bullet-proof, unless when the plugs were re- moved from the loop-holes. “ We wasn’t none too soon, nuther,” mutter- ed Zimri to the boy miner, as they recom— menced turning over the dirt for gold. “Don’t move your head, but look up yender, 3est to the right of whar we come down.” The figure of a man was distinctly visible for a moment, then quickly disappeared behind a clump of bushes. “The cuss hes jest sighted us. Never mind —keep on workin’. They know now whar we air an’ what we’re doin’. I’ll see that they don’t git too close, never fear, though I s’pect they’ll lay low ontel they kin work onder kiver 0’ night.” Little Volcano obeyed, having implicit con— fidence in his chum. Zimri was to all appear— ance equally absorbed in the search, but scarce a leaf rustled upon either side that his keenly roving eye did not instantly note and pene- trate the cause of it. The sun was sinking to rest, and the shadows growing too thick for easy watching, when Zimri gave Little Volcano the word to knock OK for the night. They did not yet enter the little fort, but lay outside, eating their scanty supper, waiting until the shade should be deep enough to hide their movements. Coon could see that the en were gradually creeping nearer, though he gave no signs of suspecting danger. He, like Little Volcano, wished the crisis to come as quickly as possrble. Then they crept into the fort, lying at their loopholes with weapons ready for work. The moon was shining clearly. Though the valley was studded here and there with bushes, the enemy could not pass within pistol-shot with- out venturing over open ground. “Thar they come!” muttered Zimri, some little time before midnight. “Let ’em come up close. I’ll hail ’em—but we must let ’em give the fust lick—mind that !” Five minutes later, he called aloud, demand- ing their business. For a moment they hesi— tated, evidently confused by the unexpected challenge, but then, with loud cries, they sprung forward, firing with every step, appar- ently resolved to end all at one fierce blow. Then rung out the rifle of the old hunter, keeping time with the crack of Little Volcano’s revolvers. CHAPTER XXII. ANO'IBER mean m m PIE. BLENDING with and nsmg' ' high above the report of the old miner’s rifle, there comes a shriek so wild and piercing, so full of mortal anguish and utter despair, that even in that mo- ment of dark passion and deadly hatred more than one cheek pales, more than one heart turns faint and sick. But only for a moment. The stakes are well worth winning. The gamblers press on—yelling, cursing like veritable fiends. Their pistols speak rapidly—the leaden pellets flattening against the rock fort. Bright flashes and spiteful reports answer them—the sulphur- cus cloud overhangs all like a pal]. Then the fierce ardor of the gamblers begins to cool, even while the rude pile of stones lies almost within arm’s length. . They have count- ed upon a surprise—' for it their plans were all arranged; but such a hot reception was not among them. It is hard work, this fighting men who are invisible, who can be placed only by the lightning gleam of their firearms, lack- ing a. leader, as they do—for Sleepy George can scarcely be called one. And so, cursing bitterly, they retreat—two more shots from the barricade and the retreat becomes a stam- e. A taunting laugh follows them, doubly hard to bear since it assures them that both their in- tended victims are alive and uninjured, while they—more than one bears stinging wounds, while there, lying still and stark just in the edge of the shadow, lies one of their number, his crime-stained heart forever stilled. “Whoo—ee!” screamed Zimri Coon, his shrill voice ringing with exultation. “Pick up your legs an’ travel, ye woolly-backed ga- loots o’ nat’ral cussedness—hunt your holes, ye bob-tailed horn-toads o’ perdition! Whoo— heol You’re the high-toned whangdoodles as the yeth hain’t good enough fer your feet to tramp on—come here to skeer two pore little orfint babbys out o’ thar pin-a-hinds—an’ they only got a couple 0’ tater-popgunsl Oh, git out! GO shake yourselves! send us some men, next time!” “W‘k ’em up, old man,” cried Little Vol- cano, with a. reckless laugh. “Shame ’em into coming again, if you can. The dirty cowards mustturntailandsneakoffjustasit beganto grow interesting.” “Six overgrowed dogs rigged up to look like men—to back down atone two—one a’ old crit- ter as hain’t got no eyes, Only one tooth an’ bit a. holler ’un, so clean worn out he has to lean up ag’in’ a tree to cough, an’ t’other ’un a little boy as hain’t got shot of the smell 0’ his mam- my’s milk! Sufferin’ Moses! it makes me sick —it does so I Don’t be so pesky bashful~—d¢m’t, now! ’ ain’t good manners to foller us so far, not to make a longer call nor that—3’ “Don’t you be snatched, old coon—I reckon we’ll stay with ye long’s your stomach kin stan’ it.” “ Hooh! I hear a coyote yelpin’—that’s griz- zly-bait a-belchin’ now. Sleepy George—come an’ see me!” There was no reply made to this cordial in- vitation, nor was anything more heard from the enemy, though Zimri aired his sarcastic elo- quence some minutes longer, racking his brain to devise insulting epithets and “ odorous ” comparis' ons, seeking to draw the gamblers Kfi -a-l-_ \ '16) 1 4‘ .I“ — 'h‘ -/V _"-' “\I J) @EEW * ” ..3"‘Ar)>