“ IO TRIOMPHE !"

BY FRANK I. IXBBII.

 

 

In gala barge l drifted,
When morning, golden—gifted,
Her sunshine- rfume sifted,
O‘er smi ing shore and sea;
Her handmaids coming, going,
Her gleaming sickles mowing
Blossomed meadows, set avflowing
Elixir sweet and free.

I leant on silken pillows,
My voice rung o’er the billows,
And crooned among the willows

In their ripple-haunted home;
The song—cleft breezes shifted,
The rosy clouds were ritted,
Close beside me drifted

A barque just like my own;

A rich voice, clarion-noted,
Nearer, nearer to me floated,
Old Triton fairly gloated
At the mocking triumph-lay;
“ I scorn the name of sorrow!
Let love-lorn landsman borrow
The snow-flowers of Tomorrow—
Mine, wreaths each bright To-day!"

With pulses bounding, stinging,

I listened to the singin ,

And to the frail sides c 'nging
I leaned to catch each word;

Without a moment‘s warning,

This craft of my adorning—

My light weight proudly seeming—
Sunk Ii 9 a wild sea-bird.

 

I awoke to warm caresses,
On my face, on salt-sea tresses;
And I knew the love which blesses
Onl once, in life, was mine—
The soul stung to madness,
The life I doomed to sadness,
He offered up in gladness
By right of love divine.

When tender vows and olden
Were given, from cornice golden
Fell shades, by angels holden
And girt the rosy hours;
Then outrung a prouder measure:
“ Landsman, landsmau, Love is pleasure!
Heaven hath not so rare a treasure
As is Love, this gift of ours!“

Typical Women.

————-‘O»——-

JOAN OF ARC,
THE MAID OI‘ ORLEANS.

BY DR. IDUIS LEGRAND.

 

 

 

THE horrors of civil war raged in France with
unprecedented ferocity during the forty Iyears
preceding A. D. 1420. he rivalr of the ukes
of Orleans and Burgundy crea two factions,
irreconcilable and fierce. Takin advantage of
this feud the young Henry V., 0 England, hav-
ing pretensions to the French crown, invaded
France and obtained important successes. The

t battle of Agincourt, Oct. 25th, 1415, left
im almost master of France, which the treaty
of Troyes (1420) so far confirmed that, by es-
pousing the Princess Catharine, of France, the
crowns of England and France were to be united
on the death of the imbecile French king, Charles
VI. Charles died in the year 1423, but the gal—
lant young Englishman also dying the same
year, the infant Henry V. was proclaimed King
of France, by virtue of the treaty, and when
nine years of age was borne over to France and
crowned, in Paris.

The dauphin Charles, son of Charles VI.,
rallied around him the Orleanists or patriotic
faction, who detested the English heartily, and
never ceased to carry on the war against the
half-barbarous invaders; but, so strong were the
English—sustained as they zealousl were by the
Bur dian faction and the Queen sabel (widow
of C arles VI.)~—-that almost all of France was
reduced to the English domination, under the
leadership of renowned English generals.

In August, 1428, the English, under the great
Earl of Salisbury, laid siege to Orleans—
Charles’s last stronghold. The city was defend—
ed with tremendous energy by the llant Gou-
cour. Orleans lost, France was ost to the
French; so it was the center of all hope to the

triot. The siege ran on. The French were
in despair, when there appeared in the camp of
the dauphin Charles, at hinon, in Touraine, a
girl of ei hteen, who avowed that she had been
comman ed by many visions of the Holy Vir 'n
to raise the siege of Orleans and to crown Char es
at Rheims, King of France.

This girl, from the little village or hamlet of
Domrem la Pucelle, on the river Meuse, was
named eanne d’ Arc. Her parents were re—
spectable but humble landholders, having only a
peasant‘s station in life, and she was wholly
without experience in the world, of which she
knew but little, never having been outside of her
own retired district in the valley of the Vosges.
Her only claim to notice and authority was by
virtue of these visions of Our Lady at the little
church or chapel of Bellemont, which she assert-
ed had been vouchsafed her re eatedly, and
which declared her to be the f ment of the
tradition or prophecy: “France, lost by a we-
man (Isabel), should be saved by a virgin from
the frontiers of Lorraine.” She evidently was
pure, devout and patriotic. Her faith was not
that of a wild enthusiast or fierce bigot, but the
innocent conviction of a soul commissioned to
an act, in whose achievement she foresaw free-
dom to her country. No intriguante or plotter
inspired or controlled her. She acted Without
the sympathy of her immediate friends, and
only encountered repulsion in her endeavors to
reach an audience with the dauphin. But, her
earnestness, and the readiness of the age to ac-
cept miraculous inter ition and sn matural
phenomena finally in need De Baudricourt, the
commander at Vancouleurs, to send her under
escort, to Charles, in February, 1429.

The dauphin, like De Baudricourt, at first re-
fused to receive the irl, but was persuaded to
give her audience. hen he did so he was, we
are told, singularly impressed with her avowed
mission to lead the French into beleaguered Or-
leans and to drive the Eu lish from the country.
In his des rate straits e certainly needed all
possible he p, and the extraordinary enthusiasm
inspired among high-born and low alike, who
gave a devout belief to her divine authority
nduced the dauphin to tr’gr the experiment of
relieving Orleans through or instrumentality.

However, to act with due caution, and not to
bemade amenable to a charge of weakness in
admitting a “sorcerer” to his confidence, the
dauphin commanded two eminent prelates to
examine as to her virgin honor and probity.
These divines, after a ver careful siftin of
evidence, reported favorab y as to her claims;
but Charles took the further precaution to send
her to the great schoolat Poictiers, that the doc-
tors of law and medicine might examine and de-
cide whether the maiden was an emissary of the
Virgin or under the influence of the Den]. The
doctors reported for the Virgin; Charles was
convinced, and Jeanne d’Arc was commissioned
as military commander.

Clad in a suit of armor, with no indication of
her sex but the fine hair flowing down beneath
her cap and visor over her shoulders—with the
eminent and virtuous D’Aulon for her attend-
ant and adviser—the Maid of Orleans then step-
ped into history, to become the center of most
romantic interest—“ the finest character in the
history of the middle ages in France.”

She took her station at the head of the army
under Dancis, bearing in her hand the sacred
banner, with a sword at her side as an emblem
of her mission of deliverance rather than to use
it in actual combat, for it is well attested that
she never shed human blood by her own hand:
as Schlegel says she was more anxious about
the souls of the English slain than about their

'88. Hence the stories of her prowess in bat-
tle are but inventions. She struck no blow;
only bore the sacred banner and led the troops,
who had implicit faith in her divine commission,
to battle and victory.

Her first enterprise was the relief of the close-
ly-beeet and suffering garrison of Orleans.

 

 

Marching from Blois with 10,000 men under St.
Severre, Dunois and La Hire, on the 29th of
April, A. D. 1429, she passed bE the river into
the city, to the disma of the nglish and the
most frantic delight o the French. The Maid’s

had been to march direct through the
enemy’s intrenchments, but her generals, while
having faith in her mission, yet preferred good
generalship to experiment, so persuaded her to
safer and surer methods of approach, which
proved their wisdom and her good sense in act-
m under their guidance.

The precaution havin been taken of dissemi-
nating among the English the news of her di—
vine ordainment, to drive them from the land,
her approach inspired a species of terror in their
ranks, which was hightened by her ap rance
at the head of the French forces; and w en with
a small guard she safely passed by the river into
the besieged city, bearing needed supplies, food
and reinforcements, the enem ’s dismay was as
great as the French joy an confidence were
complete. This was intensified by the residue
of the French forces marching direct through
the English intrenchments into Orleans, almost
unop —so serious were the disaffection and

rise among the besiegers.

e Maid’s enthusiasm and her generals’ en-
terprise led to rapid action. Assaults of the
English forts commenced, Ma 5th. Those on
the east were carried. The fig ting was terri-
ble; but, inspired by her presence and the wav-
ing of her sword and banner, her troops were
invincible, and one by one the powerful works
in that section of the field into Dunois’s
hands. The next day even harder fightin fol-
lowed, after a summons signed “J hesus aria
and Jehanne La Pucelle,” bidding the invader
depart. The French were partially repulsed,
but Joan’s immediate advance to the front, with
her banner turned the tide backward again,
giving the French the vantage. May 7th the

ercest struggle ensued, in carrying t 6 strong
intrenchments and forts on the south. Joan
now led the assault in person, and mounting a
scaling ladder, was struck by an arrow in the
breast. Her armor saved her life, but she was
knocked into the fosse and for a moment gave
way to tears, but seem that the assault was
likely to fail, she se' her banner, and the
French, reins ired, carried all before them. It
was a relent ess man—to—man combat, but the
English, though far stronger in number, and
well intrench were no match to the frenzied
valor of La ucelle’s heroic devotees, who
literally drove their enemy into the river,
where they. (perished by hundreds—their com-
mander, G a esdall, being among the lost.

This blow was the crowning act to the de-
liverance of Orleans. Ma 8th being Sunday
the Earl of Suffolk raised t e siege and marched
awa unmolested. Joan’s promise had been
fulfi led, and faith in her mission to redeem
France now became fixed. She returned to
Charles and at once prepared to drive the ene-
my from all the country between the river
Loire and the city of Rheims, where, she de-
clared, Charles must be crowned King of
France. This project was strongly oppowd,
since there (in Burgundy) the enemy was
doubly strong; but her persistence prevailed.
She was supported by all the forces the French
could bring to bear, and after a series of battles
succeeded in achieving a signal victory at
Patoy, reversing a defeat by her intre id expo-
sure. Sulfolk and Talbot were taken risoners.
Pole was killed and the fighting Fastolfe was
forced to fly.

Charles entered Rheims in triumph, and was
crowned King of France, with imposin cere-
mony, Jul 17th, 1429. Joan stood at his side,
in armor, ring her flag and sword.

This coronation reall ended her mission, and
the Maid earnest] esired to return to her
humble home, but t e king, court, nerals and
soldiers retested, and she remain , to partici-

ate in t e assault on Paris, in September. The
nch were there signallylnepulsed; Joan was
severe] wounded in the t ' h; Charles retired
to the oire, and that virtua 1y ended the year’s
cam ign. A royal decree ennobled her family,
and omremy was declared free from all tax or
royal tribute.

he English under the regent. Duke of Bed-
ford’s stirrin orders, now showed new zeal. The
young King enry VI. was crowned at Paris.
All of Burgundy and Brittan still acknowl—
edged his supremacy, and the urgundian fac-
tion, led by Isabel, was implacable in its pur-

s to reject the French succession, and
to accept the English. So the combined enemy
marched tothe siege of Compiegne, in thes ring
of 1430. Joan, again taking the field, t rew
herself into the besieged city, and no sooner
was she in than a sally was ordered, which she
headed, only to be taken prisoner, (May 23d,
1430.) by the Burgundians. She was conveyed
to John of Luxemburg’s castle, at Beaurevoir,
who negotiated her transfer to the English for
10,000 livres, but the maid, hearing of this, at-
tem ted to escape b leaping from the donjon
of t e castle, by w ich she was seriously in-
jured and retaken. She was then handed over
to the English and confined at Rouen.

None clamored so loudly for her execution as
her own countrymen of the Burgundian faction.
The University of Paris—a semi-religious, semi-
governmental institution in the English interest,
was fierce in its demand for her trial as a here-
tic and a sorceress, but it was the Bishop of
Beauvois who entered these formal charges

inst her, and aftera long trial before a board
0 inquisitors and judges, in which she defend-
ed herself with resolution, the child-enthusiast
was condemned to be burnt at the stake for sor-
cery, intercourse with infernal spirits, etc., etc.
The inquisitors and the English were not inclined
to this severity, but the Bishop of Beauvois and
the active malice of the University overcame
all pity, and she was led forthtothe stake, May
24th, 1431.

At sight of the horrible torture in store for
her, the maid’s resolution gave way, and she
“recanted ” by e ressing contrition for what
she had done, an promising entire obedience
to the church. At this she was sent back to

rison, where she discarded her male attire and
or two days was left with her own thou hts.

Those two days appear to have been 0 bitter
penance and remorse. Her haunting “voices”
upbraided her and she resolved to obey their
call; so she resumed the male attire which she
had thrown off and sent word to the Bishop
that she re tted her submission, and the deni-
al of her ivine mission; whereupon she was
a ain taken out to the market-place in Rouen,
w%iere a pile of wood was ready, and seats
erected for the {udges and ecclesiastics to wit-
ness the spectac e. She wept piteousl for mer-
cy, but was, in their presence, roastedy slowly to
death—her fortitude returning at the first touch
of the fire, and she died committing her soul to
the Virgin. The body was wholly consumed and
the ashes thrown into the Seine.

This atrocious act, so repugnant even to the
spirit of a brutal e, was reconsidered, a few
years later, when ope Calixtus III. (1455) a

inted a commission composed of one arc -

ishop, two bisho s and an inquisitor, who care-
fully reviewed t e “process’ and evidence in
her case, and in 1456 pronounced the decision
that the twelve articles alleged ' t her were
false, and her entire innocence was proclaimed!

Thus was the memory of the Maid relieved
from church censure and social reproach, and
from that time men and women throughout all
the world have dwelt in loving and re tful
sympathy over her romantic career an inhu-
man death. The almost countless biogra hies
dedicated to her name and fame show how ee ,
even et, is the interest in her; and it is to
said 1’. at to the foul mind and wholly execrable

n of Voltaire is due the only book that assails
E; virgin honor and defames her memory.
That man, who lived in an age congenial to one
of his beastly instincts, but added, in that dis—
gusting travesty of Joan’s life, labors and death
one more evidence of his thorough moral an
mental rottenness.

In Rouen, on the spot of her ma rdom now
stands a fine monument of the Mai of Orleans,
that is a shrine to all patriotic Frenchmen, who
natural] regard her as the Savior of France:
and to all time will her memory and fame be
most dear to them.

 

 

OVER HIS GRAVE.

BY HERMAN IARPELS.

 

 

I did not think a year ago—she said—
That I should weep above thy dust to-day!

So many idle tears my heart hath shed

Since, dear, my own, they told me thou wert dead—
Beyond my passionate love and grief for aye!

Sometimes in dreams I see thee—once again
My sere heart lives and blossoms in thy KISS!
Vague joyance stills each fever-throbbing vein,
And hills to rapture, that is almost pain,
My yearning soul in one long trance of bliss!

But, ah! the vision passes. Dim and cold
The actual world dawns on my weary si ht;

The sea-blue eye. the locks of morning ,0 d,

The passionate kisses, the delights of o d,
Fade with the aerial phantoms of the night.

Break thou the impalpable bars of Time and Space—
Lean, holy spirit, from the unseen shore!

If, in unfathomed air, my soul may trace

Some semblance of thy unforgotten face,
I shall be comforted forevermore!

 

. Lost olulu;

THE PRAIRIE CAVALIER.

A Romance of Love and Life in a
Frontier Port.

 

BY HON. WILLIAM F. CODY,
(BUFFALO BILL).

 

CHAPTER X.
A GIRL’S camp.

IT was a sad blow to Colonel Decatur when
told of the death of Death-Trailer, for he loved
the man as he would have loved a younger bro-
ther, and could not bear to think of him as
dead. The great Guide-Scout, who had been
victorious in a hundred battles, who had never
met his equal, to be shot down by some cow-
ardly assassin was terrible to think of.

But, if he sorrowed deeply himself for the
scout, Colonel Decatur was wholly unprepared
for the scene that met his when he entered
the room of Helen to tell er of the sad termi-
nation of the search.

His daughter lay upon the bed in an agony
of grief, Lulu, who had told her all, seated by
her side in an endeavor to console her.

“ Great heavens! has it come to this? Helen,
speak! Tell me, is it for Radcliffe you grieve
so?” cried Colonel Decatur, anxiously.

“ Oh father, he is dead—they say he is dead,
and I shall never see him any more,” cried He-
len throwing herself upon her father’s breast,
an ivin way to a torrent of tears.

“ es, elen, he is dead; but you must calm
yourself, my dau hter, for it must not be known
outside that you oved him so deeply. Tell me,
child, was there aught between you and Rad-
cliflei”

“ No, father; I loved him, but he did not know
it. He was so noble, father.”

“Poor child! I feel for you from my inmost
heart; but for my sake, let no one know of this.
You, Lulu, will not speak of Helen’s grief, will
you, child?”

“ Colonel Decatur!” and the young girl drew
herself proudly u and her eyes flashed.

“ Forgive me, ulu; I spoke from anxiety for
my child,” said Colonel Decatur, earnestly.

‘I do forgive you, sir; now leave Helen to
me; I will care for her, and comfort her all in
my power,” and Lulu, who, in her becoming
feminine attire, looked the beautiful girl she
was, put her arms around Helen and drew her
gently away.

‘Feelin that he could trust the young maiden,
Colonel ecatur turned sadly away and left the

room.
» Then Helen looked up, her tears gone.

“ Lulu, you are a‘darling: but oh, that father
should have seen me grieve! I wished in se-
cret buried in the grave with him—hidden rom
all 6 es.”

“ rid yet, I knew that you loved him, Helen,
thou h I saw you together but once—the eve-
ning came, when I awoke and found you all
standin by and looking at me. Oh! was I not
asham ?

“Then you have shown to me often that you
loved him, and I could not blame you, for I
loved him too; but not as you love him, Helen;
mine is different, for I could have seen you
marry him and not have been jealous.”

“ And now he is forever gone—poor me, poor
me!” moaned Helen.

“Yes, you have a deep grief at your heart,
Helen; but so have I; you do not forget how I
have sufiered. “Te are sisters in sorrow, Helen.”

“ You beautiful, noble girl,” and Helen Deca-
tur threw her arms around the neck of the
maiden, and kissed her again and again.

At length she said:

“ Lulu, have you the courage to do something
for me ’9”

“ T me.”
“ It will take all your nerve, child.”
“ Tr me.”

“Well, I must go and see his grave, and I
wish ou to go with me; will you go 9”

t‘ es.”

“Bless you, Lulu; but we must go alone. I
have two splendid horses, and I know that you

ride well.”
“ Yes I have ridden all my life. When shall
It is about twent miles,

we 0, elen?”
“ This afternoon.
and' it will be a very hard ride there an back.”
“ I don’t care; I would go alone to visit that
filace, for, not only does he rest there now,
elen but you remember my poor mother is
burie there,” and the pearly tears dimmed the

dark-blue eyes.
“ Poor child! We have indeed our iefs to-
ethcr. Now I Will give word to ave the

orses saddled,” and bathing her face, to hide
the traces of grief, and controlling her feelings,
Helen went out and gave the order to the or-
der] to have the horses ready in half an hour.

“ es, miss, and shall I accompany you?”

“ No, orderly; we will go alone for a gallop.”

At the ap mted time the horses were at the
door, and t e two maidens dashed from the
fort, but not without several warnings from of-
ficers and soldiers not to go far.

Both girls were well mounted. Their steeds
were, as Helen had said, splendid horses, and
they flew over the prairies much of the time at
a s of ten miles an hour.

t was a long ride, but the distance was made
in three hours, Helen acting as guide, for the
massacre had occurred near the spot which she
knew well, as a icnic party from the fort had
once passed the y there.

“ It will be dark an hour before we get back,
Lulu- but I do not care; I will see his grave,”
said Helen, as they drew near the spot.

“ Yes, yonder tree I remember. It was there
we camped that fatal night,” cried Lulu, and
she urged her horse into a run, and soon drew
rein upon the spot where was made one large
grave, beneath which rested the remains of all
those who had fallen in the slaughter.

Throwing herself from her horse, Lulu knelt
by the side of the ave and burst into tears.

For a moment elen Decatur regarded her
sadly—the tears in her own eyes; then she turn-
ed her horse away, and, guided by the informa-
tion she had questioned out of the ser cant,
she started in search of the grave of eath-
Trailer.

A multitude of tracks led that way and guid—
ed her over the same ath which he had taken
—into the gor e, up t e narrow ravine, to the
cave, by the Side of which was the new~made
mound.

With a groan of grief, wrimg from her in-
most heart Helen Decatur sprung to the ground,
and sta toward the grave.

Another instant and she would have thrown
herself inan abandon of sorrow upon it, but a
huge form sudden] confronted her, standing
upright inthe mout of the cavern.

It was not the form of a man, but of a beast

l
l
l

 

 

. —a huge hear of the mountains, his hairy arms

outstretched, his mouth open, and his eyes
gleaming.

Helen gave one shriek of terror and started
back toward her horse.

But the steed had already caught sight of the
monster, and with a neigh of fright wheeled
and dashed down the gorge, leaving poor Helen
helpless before the now enraged brute.

In vain did she strive to fiy—her knees yield-
ed, and she sunk down upon the earth, unable
to move, and gazing wildly upon the huge bear,
not a dozen paces from her.

She was armed with a small revolver, yet she
had not strength to use it, and felt that she must
die a horrible death, torn limb from limb by
those huge glittering teeth, those long, sharp
claws.

Seeing the helplessnem of his victim, the bear
gave a grow] of satisfaction, and lowering him-
self u n all fours began to move slowly to-
ward er.

lVith one glance to the bright blue skies above
her, one long look at the grave so near her, and
a muttered prayer, Helen closed her eyes, and
felt that the hour of her death had come.

CHAPTER XI.
THE DEATH-STRUGGLE.

WHEN Helen Decatur closed her e es, with a
prayer upon her lips, she gave up a for lost;
she believed that the end had come-a fearful
end for even a brute to die.

But a savage 0w] of the bear caused her to
suddenly open er eyes; the impulse was in-
evitable.

She saw that the bear had again risen u n
his hind-feet, and that he was not regarding er
was evident.

What could it be? Was poor Luluf coming to
also meet a terrible death?

No; a rapid footstep was heard behind her,
yet she was unable to turn. Then came several
rapid shots over her head, as she crouched prone
upgn the earth, and a tall form bounded far
a ve her head, and with a cry that mingled
with the fierce growl of the bear, sprung be-
tween her and danger.

One glance at that tall form, and Helen Deca-
tur uttered a shriek that echoed far down the
gorge; then she fell forward upon her face in a
swoon.

HOW long she remained unconscious she never

knew; but when she again opened her eyes they
met a desperate scene.
. A man of tall form, with blood-stained face
and hands, with torn clothin , was writhing,
struggling, fighting for life wit the huge mon-
ster of the mountains.

The ground was blood-stained, and torn up as
though by a plow, the hairy coat of the bear
was seamed with gashes, its Jaws red with gore,
its eyes inflamed and glaring.

Both man and beast seemed d ' g, yet fi ht-
ing on, with and ' g fury. 'ch woul be
the victor ’twere ard to tell.

In vain did Helen strive to rise and ive what
aid she could with her small revo ver: one
glance into that blood-stained, stern face turned
toward her, and again she fainted away.

Once more her eyes opened and the scene had
changed—the desperate fight had ended.

Her gaze first fell 11 on the bear, 1 ’ dead,
only a few feet from er; then she heard a well-
known voice. It said earnestly:

“ Helen oh Helen! he is not dead!”

It was Lulu’s voice, and with a mighty effort
at mastery Helen Decatur sprung to her feet.

There, in the mouth of the cavern sat Lulu,
holding in her lap the head of a man, while with
lfier handkerchief she Wiped the blood from his

ace.

“ Helen, he is not dead,” again repeated Lulu.

With a bound Helen was by her side, and with
a low cry she murmured:

“ Thank God! the (grave has given up its dead!
I saw him, Lulu, an I thought it was his spirit
come to aid me—but oh how white he is, and
how hard he breathes !”

“ Yes, he is sorel wounded, and needs all our
aid. There, hold is head while I run to the
stream after water.”

Helen obeyed and Lulu darted away, to soon
return with a canteen of water and a flask of
brandy. She had found the scout’s horse hitch—
ed in the gorge.

\Vith skillful hands Lulu dressed the wounds
of the Guide-Scout, and as she did so, told Hel-
en how she had come upon the scene, having
followed her trail up the valley, 'ust as the com <
bat ended, and the man staggere back, and fell,
after his last knife-thrust into the body of the
bear.

“ At first I was terribly frightened, for I
thought both you and your preserver were
dead; then I got ashamed of my fears, and see-
ing 'ou had only fainted I Went to him.

“ elen, I gave a shriek of jo that woke u
every wolf and bird in these 0 d hills, when
saw it was my guardian, and I at once set to
work to do what I could for him; then you re-
vived and I was doubly orlad; but see, he is re-
turning to consciousness.’

The Trailer’s lips moved, and he muttered
some words in a low tone; but both maidens
heard them, low as was the voice.

“ Helen, are you safe?”

Those were the words he uttered, and the
heart of Helen Decatur gave one great throb of

o .

J X Lulu, what is to be done.a We cannot move
him, for he is too badly in'ured to ride," and
Helen seemed troubled; an no wonder, for it
was getting late; an hour more and it would be
dark.

“If on are not afraid to sta with him, I
will rid}; to the fort for aid,” sai Lulu, boldly.

“I will stay—I will do anything to save his
life, Lulu.”

“ Then I will start at once for the fort—
Ha l”

The ejaculation of Lulu caused Helen to
glance uickly up, and her eyes fell upon a man
approac ' g.

“ It is the baron,” cried Lulu, with delight,
and she rushed forward to meet him.

“ Oh, I am so glagiyou have come—so glad I”

“This welcome, ss Lulu, is worth a long
ride, and much anxiety, after two fair run-
aways; but there has been trouble here,” said
the baron.

“ Yes, and is now; but come, Death-Trailer is
not dead—”

“Not dead! thank God l”

“No, but he is badly wounded. See that
bear,” and as they ascended the hill Lulu point-
ed to the huge monster.

“ What does it all mean, Miss Lulu?” said the
baron, mystified.

“ It means that we came here to—never mind;
I came to visit my mother’s grave, and when
Helen was here alone that bear attacked her,
and suddenly a man ran forward and boldly
fought the monster, and that man was my brave
guardian! Yonder he lies.”

The baron stepped quickly forward, greeted
Helen hastily, and bent anxiously over the
wounded man.

With a surgeon’s skill he examined the dif-
ferent wounds, the maidens watching him ner-
vously.

Then he said, in a tone of relief:

“ It was a desperate stru file, and he has faint-
ed from fatigue and loss 0 lood together. He
has some ugly wounds about the breast arms
and legs, but none dangerous, and he ' soon
be all right. See, he is recovering consciousness
now.”

Slowly the Trailer showed signs of returning
sensibility; and while dressing his wounds the
baron said, leasantly:

“ You ' have to thank my servant Dennis,
young ladies, for my intrusion upon you for he
came to me and said you had gone off? alone,
and ‘bint on some divilment,’ he expressed it.
Knowing how dangerous it was for you to be
alone I mounted my horse, took your trail, and
here I am.”

“ And thank God you are here!” cried Helen,
fervently.

“Yes it is best as it turns out. Well, Rad—
cliffe, old fellow, how do you feel!”

The Guide-Scout opened his eyes and they
met those of the baron; then they turned upon
Lulu, and then upon Helen.

 

 

As he caught her eyes a slight color came into
his face, and he murmured:

“T Heaven, [was in time to save you
from harm! It was a hard fight, Savifle-the
hardest of my life.”

“I don‘t doubt it, Trailer; but come, take a
swallow of this, and see if You can shake your—
self together, for it is growmg late, and is a long
way to the fort.”

“ Oh,.yes, I feel better. In a few days I will
be all right. Come, let us be off ; but what are
you all doing herel” and, with an efl’ort of his
strong Will, the scout rose to his feet, though it
was evident that it caused him reat pain.

To his question the baron mar e no reply, and
Helen also remained silent; but Lulu spoke out:

“ You remember, that you promised to bring
me to see my mother‘s rave, and as you were
supposed to be dead, He en came with me.”

“ I was supposed to be dead? “'hat do you
mean, Lulu?”

The baron answered for her: ‘ ..

“ W'hy, hearing nothing from you since Gra-
ham left you here, Colonel Decatur sent out a
search-party, and a torn body found in this cave
was supposed to be ours, as I tracked where a
man ha ev1dently n shot, or shot at, in the
valle below.

“ here is the grave of the poor fellow, and I
suppose, feeling deepliy for you, as they were
here, the ladies wishe to see where you were
buried. M presence here is on account of my
havmg tra' ed these runaways, on learning that
they had come ofl’ alone.”

“And I was thought dead?” said the scout,
slowlv, and he turned his gaze upon Helen, who
to hide the blush that arose to her face replied,
quickly:

“ Yes, and I thought a spirit had come to my
aid when I recognized your form and face as
you rushed u n the bear. Oh! how terrible
that struggle !’ and Helen shuddered at the re-
membrance.

“But who can it be that is buried here? One
of your pistols was found near him,” said the
baron.

“I will tell you as we ride back to the fort.
Come, let us start.”

“ Let me get the horses and you await me
here. Your steed, Miss Helen, I caught down
the gorge as I came up,” and the baron depart-
ed, but soon returned with the animals.

With some difficulty the Trailer mounted; but
once in the saddle he said he was all right, and
the party started at a slow pace for the fort.

 

CHAPTER XII.
THE scovr’s STORY.

TRUE to his word, as they rode along on the
way to the fort, and in spite of his severe suffer—
ings, Death-Trailer told all about his adventure
in the valley, the shot from the ambuscade at
him, and how nearly it proved fatal, and of his
finding Nick Dawson in the cave.

“ Now what I make known to you I wish you
never to mention, as I am on a trail that I think
will result in good for this part of the frontier.
It is the following this trail that has kept me ab-
sent for some time.”

“And caused us all to mourn you as dead—
you naughty man!” said Lulu.

“I guess there were not many tears shed,
Lulu.”

“ I’ll not tell ou whether there was or not.”

“ Then I will lieve as I please in the matter
as to the tears; but to return to my story: I
found Nick Dawson near] dead from starva-
tion wounded and bound and and foot.

“ Releasing him, I gave him fool], and he told
me how he had been forced to join a band of
desperadoes on the border, from having acci-
dentally run into their camp one day, and that
to save his life he had become one of them; but
his heart was not in the work, as I well know,
for he was a good fellow, though a little wild—
you remember him, Miss Decatur—the young
trapper who often visited the fort!”

‘ es: he was about your size, and did not
look unlike you.”

“Yes, that was the man; well, these renev
gades found out that a train was coming, and
with most of them disguised as Sioux Indians,
they attacked it, and we all know the sad re—
sult.

“Then, because Nick would not join the mas—
sacre, the devils wounded him, then carried him
to the cavern, bound him hand and foot, and
left him to starve; thus I found him; but learn—
ing from him where their mountain camp was
situated, and anxious to spot every man of the
party, I left Nick some provisions, one of my
pistols, and started upon the trail of the rene-

ades.

“Poor fellow, he doubtless got worse after
my departure, or, in his weak state, unable to
protect himself, was attacked by wolves and
torn to pieces. It was his body you doubtless
buried, baron.”

“Yes, there can be no doubt of it. What a
terrible death for the poor fellow to die," said
the baron, with feeling.

“ Terrible indeed; but I thought he would be
able to reach the fort by the next day; I am
sorr I left him yet it could not be helped.”

“ id you find the camp of the robbers!” asked
Helen, as if anxious to turn the scout’s thoughts
from the sad remembrance.

“ Oh, yes, and I have some thirty men marked
for the bullet or the gallows; but to find their
chief is what I am most anxious to do.

“Who he is I cannot discover, and that he
does not remain in camp with them I am confi—
dent; yet who he is, is the question.

“I hung about the camp for days, and at
night got almost into it—in fact so near that I
heard their conversation, and I believe that the
chief lives in Decatur City; is, in fact, a gam-
bler there; but whoever he may be, I will trail
the mystery to the end.”

While the Guide—Scout and his three compam
ions were returning to the fort, there was in
that stockade outpost the {greatest excitement.

Colonel Decatur had returned from an after-
noon ride to the town, an] discovered that his
daughter and Lulu were m '~sing.

He at once made inquiries, and to his surprise
and terror learned that tlnv had gone oli’ to-
gether on horseback, and without an escort.

It was now some time after dark, and as they
had not returned he dreaded the worst.

But here Dennis came to his relief, and told
him that his master had gone after them, start-
in half an hour after they left the fort.‘

This greatly relieved the colonel’s mind, for
he knew that the baron was a thorough prairie-
man, and as brave as a lion; and he hoped that
the three would soon return. .

But, as it grew later and later, and they still
did not appear, he ew so anxious that he or-
dered Captain Gra am to report to his room,
and call out his troop for the march.

At this moment the party rode up, and the
sentinel in dismay recognized the scout, whom
he had believed to be in his grave.

“Where is my father, sentinel?” asked Helen
of the startled soldier. _

“ In his room, miss, with Captain Graham.
The troopers is ordered out to go in search of

on.”

“ There is no need of it; we have all returned.
Gentlemen, we will see you in the morning;
and Mr. Radcliffe, if there is anything that you
ne , anything that I can do, do not ceitate to
let me know.” _

“ Thank you Miss Decatur,” replied the scout,
and Lulu and Helen ran into their cabin, while
the baron said: .

“ Come Radcliffe, I wish you to come with
me,” and he almost dragged Death-Trailer into
the head-quarters room.

Pacing the floor with quick steps, Colonel De-
catur was there, giving orders in his terse tones
to Captain Graham, who was booted and spur-
red for a ride. _ ‘

“ Ho, baron, you are back! and the girls?”
cried Colonel Decatur, catching Sight of Sa-
ville.

“ Are all safe, and so is the-—” _

But a cry of terror intermpted him from the
li s of Captain Graham, while an exclamation
of) surprise came from the lips of the colonel.

“Good God! scout, is it really you, or your

host?” _

“ It is I, Colonel Decatur, in flesh and blood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
   

 

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