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COPYRIGHT, 1883, BY BEADLE AND ADAMS.

    
 
    

 

 

 

   

NEW YORK, JUNE 2, 1883.

One copy, four months, 01.00
TERMS IN ADVANCE One copy, on year, . . . 3.00
Twoooplas, one year, . . 5.00

 

 

 

 

 

 

WILD

 

“ Come on and take me, Colorado King, if you like the sport !"

BILL,

THE WHIRLWIND OF THE WEST;

’

THE BUCKSKIN BRAVOS OF THE BLACK HILLS.

A Story of Wild Adventures of Real Heroes of the Border, as Told

BY HON. W. F. Conv,—“ BUFFALO BILL.”

 

CHAPTER VI.
a FOE TO THE RESCUE.

THERE are man men in this world who seem
to bear charmed lives, for peril of all kinds they
pass through where others fall by accident, as
it were.

More reckless, and the most conspicuous in
daring, leaders of forlorn-hopes in battle, yet
they pass unscathed through fire and death-
scenes, while others drop b their side to die.

Such a man was W'ild Bi 1, and thou h in the
end he came to an untimely death at t 9 hand
of an assassin, he had escaped from be hood so
man dangers, passed through hun reds of
dead y combats uuhurt, and when, at times
proven vulnerable by fearful wounds, had
“dodged Death,” so to speak, and recovered,
that men called him invulnerable.

Certain it seemed, when shot down by the
hand of Colorado King as he was, that Wild
Bill’s career had then and there ended in those
wild hills, and amid that driving snow-storm.

And yet the bullet from the assassin’s revol-
ver, though unerringly aimed, had not pene—
trated the massive head to the seat of life. but
glancing along the skull had cut its way through
the seal and continued its flight.

The s ock, however,'had dropped the strong
man like dead, stunning him into an uncon-
sciousness that seemed like death, and was so
near akin to it that it deceived the treacherous
guide, who loated over the act of having
killed one w om he feared, an who, he knew
well, had never liked him.

Having hidden his gold and gone rapidly
away from the death-camp, anxious that the
gathering gloom should not find him within
sight of those he had slain, Colorado King had
made his wa toward the trail which he knew
well he coul follow in spite of the snow-storm,
and little dreamed that one whom he had left
prone u n the ground had shaken the white
masses rom him and risen to a sitting posture.

 

   

That one was Wild Bill.

He looked about in a strange way, feeling be-
fore him and about him, as though in darkness,
and then allowing his hand to rest upon the
wound on his head.

“ I heard voices, and one was speaking, whose
tones I can never forget—ay, and his words, too,
shall be remembered, for they were threats
against a dying woman.

“ Ah! my eyesight is returning, though I feel
strangely dizz .”

He passed his hands across his forehead slowly
for a while, and then pressing some snow upon
his wound, bound his handkerchief over it.

Then, with an efl'ort he arose to his feet and
staggered like a drunken man to a tree near by,
where he leaned for support.

Missing his rifle be searched for it, and smiled
grimly as he shook the snow from its glittering
barrel.

Leaning once more against the tree, he glanced
over the desolate camp, watching the fire as it
died away under the falling flakes.

“ Hal the gold-packs are gone!”

He uttered the words quickly, as his eyes fell
upon the spot where they had been, and then in
a dazed way he said:

“ It seems to me that I heard him talk of bid-
ing the gold until 5 ring.

“ Indeed, be con (1 not carry it all with him,
were the trails not incumbered with snow, with-
out the aid of a horse.

“Yes, there goes his trail toward the valley.
and he will make his way to the fort with all
dispatch.

“ Ay, and those tracksare where he carried
the gold-packs to a hidin -place in yonder rocks.

“ I am in luck, for had remained unconscious
much longer, or darkness come on, I would have
found no trace of where he had hidden the
riches of those poor people whom be murdered.”

Still sta gering, as thou h his brain reeled, he
went to t e spot where e had last seen the

 

gold-packs, and then followed the tracks of Col-
orado King to their hiding-place in the rocks.

Hardly had he discovered the secret the guide
had hoped was his alone, when he heard asound
which at once riveted his attention.

His practiced ears told him that the sound
was a horse, struggling at his greatest speed
through the snow, and hardly had he come to
this conclusion, when an animal dashed into
view, urged hard by his rider.

It was an Indian pony, beautifully spotted
with white and black, with a tail of intense
blackness, and a mane that was as spotless as
the snow through which it made its way.

That the animal was tired out was evident,
for it ran with every indication of distress, yet
was kept to its hard pace by its rider, whose
quick glances behind showed that flight was an
imlperative duty to escape more deadly danger.

nd that rider was an Indian girl.

Young, slenderly formed, and strangely beau~
tiful for one of her race, she sat upon her flying
pon , her long raven hair floating far out be-
hin her, and one hand grasping a bow and a
single arrow, the last from er quiver, which
hung empty by her side.

As she drew near the rocks, amid which Wild
Bill crouched, she glanced again over her shoul-
der, and uttered a startled or to her pony, as
her eyes fell upon her pursuers ashing into sight
from a thicket not a undred yards away.

“That is a Blackfoot girl chased by Sioux,”
muttered Wild Bill, as he saw a chief and four
warriors come in view, and urge their horses
hard in chase.

“ Both tribes are my foes, but I take sides with
the girl ever time, for those red devils are
gaining rapid y,” said the scout, and he brought
his Winchester rifle around ready for use.

“ I’m halfblind, and as dizzy as a drunken
man, but I guess the old gun will find a Sioux
heart,” he muttered, just as the Indian irl
swe t by within a few yards of him, and, in er
anx1ety to escape from the foes of her people,
unnoticing the white man, or the tracks about
the death-camp.

But, hardly had she gone by. when she was
startled by a ringing war cry, which awoke the
echoes of the hills and rocks far and wide, and
at the same instant she beheld the tall form
of Wild Bill spring from his covert and throw
his rifle to his shoulder, the brave man dis-
dairtiling to fire upon his enemies from an em-
bus .

At the first crack of his rifle the Sioux chief
fell from his horse, and in quick succession two
of his warriors also went down, while the re-
maining two turned, in wild alarm, to fly.

But down went a mustang under a fourth
shot, and a fifth emptied the saddle of the last
Indian rider.

Hardly had the fifth shot been fired when like
a flash a horse and rider went by Wild Bill and
charged directly u on the Sioux.

It was the Black 00!: girl, and she had her last
arrow fitted to her bow, and drawn hard back,
as she rode down 11 on the warrior whose pony
the scout had killed?

 

With a defiant war-er the Sioux warrior
had extricated himself rom his fallen horse,
and arose to face his foes, a rifle in his grasp.

“Back, girl!” cried Wild Bill, seeing the in-
tention of the brave girl to attack her foe, and
starting forward to see if he could get another
shot at the warrior.

But, as he called out to her, there came the
report of the red-skin’s rifle, and Wild Bill saw
her reel in her saddle.

But her arrow had left the bow an instant
before the crack of the rifle, and with a death—
cry upon his lips the warrior fell backward, the
dart buried in his breast.

“ Bravo, girl! you are a game one,” cried
lVild Bill, advancing, as the red—skin girl sprung
to the ground and quickly secured the scalp of
her fallen enemy, and then turned upon the
scout as be advanced, not knowing whether he
was to be received by her as friend or foe.

CHAPTER VII.
RED STAR, THE GIRL QUEEN OF THE BLACKFEET.

THE presence of a pale-face in that locality
had certainly been a great surprise to the In-
dian girl, and she had almost fitted her arrow
to her how, to turn it upon Wild Bill, expecting
certainly to find but another foe in him, when
she discovered him to be the enemy of her pur-
suers, if not her friend.

His rapid firing, his unerring and deadly aim,
added to the fearless manner in which he had
faced such tremendous odds, won her admira-
tion, and she had instantly returned to his aid,
determined not to fly and leave another to face
the ril alone.

hen she had secured her red tro h , she
turned to face Wild Bill, standing in a fiaifshy
manner, as though not knowing how he would
meet her.

But he walked boldly up to her and said, as
he seemed to recognize her:

“ You are Red Star, the Blackfeet’s Girl
Queen, are you not?”

“ The pale-face chief speaks true.

“I am Red Star,” she answered, simply.

“ How is it I find the Red Star so far from
the village of her people?”

“ The Red Star went on the chase and became
separated from her braves.

“Then the Sioux warriors saw her, and she
would have been taken a captive to their vil-
lage had not the ale face chief saved her life.

“ But the white chief looks ill, and he is
wounded,” and she started toward him as Wild
Bill tottered with dizziness.

“ I am ill, and hurt, too, Red Star; but so are
you wounded,” and he pointed to a wound upon
her shapely arm.

1 “It is the mark of the Sioux warrior’s bul-
et.

“But come, let the Red Star take the white
chief to her people, for they will be his friends
now, and the medicine-man of the tribe will
care for him.”

“ I have half a mind to go, girl, for if I stay
EerelI shall die, as I am in a bad way with my

ea

 

“I will catch one of those ponies yonder,”
and Wild Bill passed his hand continually across
his forehead, as though to clear from his brain
the clouds that seemed to oppress him.

“The Red Star will catch the ponies.

“Let the white chief wait here,” said the In~
dian girl, speaking in good English.

' Mechanically V ild Bill obeyed, and soon the
redvskin maiden had caught the four ponies of
the Sioux, at the same time quietly taking the
scalps of their riders.

“Let the white chief mount, and Red Star
will lead the way to her village, which is far
away toward the setting sun.”

Wild Bill, with an effort, got upon the back
of one of the ponies, and mounting her own ani-
mal and leading the others, Red Star set off for
the village of her tribe.

Before long night came on, and all about
them was storm and desolation; but either the
Indian girl or her pony held instinctively on the
course, and in silence Wild Bill followed.

At length the animal ridden by the scout
gave a sudden spring forward, and Red Star
saw that he was riderless.

Quickly she dismounted and found Wild Bill
lying in a heapiu the snow.

But she was not one to desert him in his sick—
ness, and quickly she dragged him to the shelter
of a huge bowlder, and in a few minutes had
kindled a small fire.

By its light she was enabled to gather logs
near by, and soon the fire was blazing cheerily,
while in its warmth lay the strong form of the
scout tossing in delirium.

With the knife taken from Wild Bill’s belt
Red Star quickly cut some branches of pine and
built for him as good a shelter as she was able,
and then she set to work to secure his hands
and feet, so that he could neither wander away
to perish in the snow, or do injury to himself.

Leaving the Indian ponies hitched to the
trees near by, she then mounted her own horse
and rode away in the darkness as rapidly as the
storm and the depth of the snow would admit.

Groaning and tOSSing in delirium Wild Bill
lay by the blazing fire, vainly striving to free
himself from his bonds.

And thus one, two, three hours went by, and
the gray dawn came.

But still the snow-storm raged on, still the
wounded man raved and writhed in fever.

At last, through the falling flakes, appeared a
line of horsemen approaching.

Nearer they came and were seen to be In-
dians.

There were a dozen of them in all, and at
their head rode Red Star, the Girl Queen of the
Blackfeet.

She had changed her pony, however, for a
fresh one, and had brought from her village
these warriors to aid a pale—face foe.

The fire had burned low, but the heat of fever
kept the wounded man from suffering with cold,
and his dark-blue eyes were turned upon the
red—skins with flashing glances as they came up.

In a few words the Indian girl gave her or—
ders, and two long poles were fastened to a

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
  

 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
   
    
  
  
  
 
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
   
      
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
   
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
   
   
  
 
    
   
  
   
   
 
    
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
 
   
  
 
  
  
 
 

 

 
 
   
 
   
  
  
   
 
 
   
   
  

 

    

 

 

 

 
 

 
  

 

 

 

 

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party started on the trail the had come.

follow where a girl led.

villihge in the valley below.
A

derland between life and death.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
THE sconr‘s RETURN.

Post was near its ending, an

grass spring up where the snow had been.

fort.

SHOW.

upon a spring campaign.

could not be the trail of an Indian.

snow—clad hills in safety.

ro e’s end.
thought.

ing by his side.
the intruder, quietly.

hi

skin cap.

threatening to break upon us at any moment.
warmly said the officer.

are at leisure I will tell you all.”

we have been: but how, in the name of good-
ness, did you get here?"

“Came on the back of the finest piece of horse-
fiesh in the lVest, colonel, and the sentinel, I
was afraid, as I rode up. would take me for a
bear on horseback and fire at me.”

“He would never have hit you had he done
so, Bill, for soldiers are desperately bad shots,
as you know.

“But I sent Colorado King out this morning,
with orders to scout around the fort and see if
any of the trails were open, and I expect he

will ’be back tonight, or at any rate to—mor-
row.

“ Colorado King is at the fort then, sir?” asked
Wild Bill. ~

“Yes, or rather he is off on a scout, as I told
you just now.”

‘1‘ And he has been here all the winter, colo-
no i” .

“Yes, for how in the mischief, or rather the
snow, could he get away?

“He was caught out, as it was, in a storm,
and came in half dead: but he has a constitution
of iron. and would, like you, Bill, laugh at
hardships that would kill most men.”

“Colonel Burr, I have a secret to tell you
about Colorado King,” said Wild Bill, leaning
his arm upon the mantle and gazing thought:
fully into the fire. '

“ our manner indicates that 'it is something
serious, Hickok.”

“ It is so serious, sir, that of all the evil char-
acters I know upon the plains, there is not one
upon whom I could lay a more serious charge
than that which I will make against the man
known as Colorado King.”

“ Why, Hickok, you astound me,” said the
colonel.

“I never liked Colorado King, sir; but I as-
sure you I was myself astounded at what I dis-
covered him guilty of.”

“Pray tell me, Bill, at what you hint.”

“I will not hint, Colonel Burr, but tell you
frankly that Colorado King, the Guide of the
Black Hills. as men call him, is an assassin of
men and women—"

“ Hold, Wild Bill! Be sure you are right be-
fore you make so terrible an assertion,” said
Colonel Burr, warmly.

“ I repeat. sir, and weigh well my words,
that Colorado King is an assassin of men and
women, and a robber of his dead victims.”

“ Great God! can you speak the truth against
him, Hickok?” and Colonel Burr sprung to his
feet and paced the room excitedly.

“ You shall be the judge, sir, when you hear
all. .

“ You remember that I left the post at your
request, to learn if the Indians were going into
their winthr villages, or were preparing to
move south?”

H Yes. 77

“ I discovered that both the Sioux and Black-
feet had gone to their winter villages in the
hills, and returning, I was caught in a snow-
storm.”

“ Yes; and I blamed myself for sending you
off at the time, 5 nd certainl believed that you
had been lost and erishe , as did all at the
post, for Colorado ing came in some days
later. after suffering fearfully.”

2‘.“ He was fortunate to reach the post under
the circumstances, and few men could have
done so.

“The snow-storm I encountered, sir, was at
first light, and I cared little for it; but I struck
a trail that led further into the hills, and it
looked to me as if a party was lost, and were
wandering aimlessly about.

“Instantly I determined to follow it, and I
came upon two dead bodies that had perished.

“Leaving them unburied, I hastened on to
rescue the others, if in my power, and then it
was that I beheld a scene which I will remem-
ber to my dying day.”

 

pony, robes were stretched across these, and
upon them \Vild Bill was placed and bound se~
curely, so that he could 'not throw himself off.

Then Red Star threw blankets over him, and
carrying his rifle and belt of arms herself, the

It was a desperate strugg e for life, for the
red-skin girl and her gallant band of brains, to
make their way back through that driving
storm of snow; but on they presS‘edLsufi‘ering
intensely, worn out, and almost despairing, yet
with no warrior daring to give up and refuse to

At last they reached the summit of a ridge,
and the eyes of the devoted band fell upon their

own the steep hill sides they went, and
then, amid the wild yells of triumph of their
tribe, they reached safety at last, and a wel-
come was given to the white foe, who had saved
their Girl Queen from a cruel captivuy, and
was even then himself hovering upon the bor-

THE long, dreary winter gt Camp Comfort

officers and men,
miners and idlers, were congratulating them—
selves that soon the chill winds would give way
to balmy breezes, and the flowers and green

To learn if it was safe to venture forth, Colo-
nel Dangerfield Burr had sent Colorado King,
the best posted man in those wilds, out upon an
inspecting-tour, and after a day spent in the
hills, the guide had struck a trail leading to the

Quickly he had followed it, wondering what
bold man had ventured to seek the fort while
the hills and valleys were yet covered with

It was the trail of a single horse, and as the
animal was unshod, Colorado King thought that
it might be some daring scout from the Black-
foot or Sioux villages, endeavoring to see if the
soldiers at the garrison were preparing to move

It was just twilight when the guide followed
the trail up to the log walls of the fort, and see-
ing that it led on into the fort he knew that it

The sentinel at the gate had just come on
duty, so could not tell him who had entered, and
putting up his horse Colorado King had sought
the colonel’s quarters with considerable curi-
osity to know who was the daring man that had
accomplished the perilous journey through the

His amazement and horror at the discovery of
who it was the reader already knows, and his
flight to save his neck from the gallows, when
he beheld in the colonel’s quarters one whom he
believed and hoped was dead, and one whom be
well knew could cause him to lose his life at the

sated alone in his comfortable quarters, gaz-
ing into the blazing fire of logs the handsome
commandant of Comfort Camp Post was lost in

So deep were his reveries that he failed to ear
a ste behind him, and started when hebe eld
a‘tal form, clad in wolf and bear-skins, stand-

“I fear I startled you, Colonel Burr,” said

“Great God! you here, Wild Bill? I believed
you in your grave long months ago,” cried Colo-
nel Burr, springing to his feet and stretching
forth his hand to grasp that of the man before

in.
“ No, colonel, but it is only by the good luck
that usually is my lot, that I am not dead,” an-
SWered Wild Bill, returning the grasp of the
colonel’s hand, and throwing aside his panther-
“ You look hardy and strong, Bill, and I am
most happy to welcome you, I assure you, for I
have often upbraided myself for allowing you to
go into the hills on that scout, when winter was
“Thank God you are back again in safety,”
“ And thank God that I went. sir; but if you

“ Of course I am at leisure, Hickok, and have
been for the whole winter, hemmed in here as

ll

reach

had followed.

forth:

Star

“ Orderly!”

your quarters,”

“ Alone?"
“ No, sir.”

others, sir."

troopers.

much:

for him to die.”

falling flakes.

tcr put for the fort, with your men
trail is well broken and you can to
they have been cooped up in their quarters so then I can head them off,” he said.
Eng they cannot stand the cold,” said I’Vild
ill.
“ They do sufi'er greatly, Bill, and 1 do also,
though you do not seem to mind it,” answered count of its reddish hue.
Harry Lockwood, the young officer, shivering
as he spoke, yet anxious to press on with the
scout.
“ Ah] I am accustomed to cold and hardships
of the worst kind; but I really feel anxious
a_b0,l;lt the men, so urge that you turn back,
Sir.
“I will let the sergeant go back with them,
while I go on with you, Bill, for I see it is your
intention to go it alone.”

clad as you are.”
“ I would like to try it, Bill,” said the plucky
young officer.
Bill shook his head and answered:

“ I know what it would end in, lieutenant.

“ No, sir, return to the fort, and I will press
on after Colorado King'and his men.”

“But, Hickok, great as you are as a fighter,
what can you do with seven men?”

“ I’ll use strategy on them and make them
think I have a company of cavalry to back me Buckskin Bravos have their retreat.

“ You had better find out where they are
heading for and return to the fort for aid.”

“ Well, sir. I’ll see,” and with a parting grasp
of the lieutenant’s hand. Wild Bill pressed on “Surrender, Wild Bill, or die I”
alone on the trail, while the half-frozen troopers
were glad enough to turn back, well knowin
that they were of no use in their benumbe
condition and might lose their lives if forced to and covering him with a rifle.

Quick as a flash his revolver was drawn and
fired; but the reports rung out together as one

continue in the pursuit.

Once alone and Wild Bill rode at a more
rapid pace, his superb black, like himself, beizg discharge, but with different results.

hardened by e At the crack of the rifle Wild Bill’s left arm
snow-drifts with little difficulty.

After several houis spent in trailing, Wild

tered, as he halted upon the trail.

 

 

Then, in a graphic way, IVild Bill told his

plan.
Eating his breakfast, and thoroughly warmed

story of the scene at Death Camp, and what

In breathless amazement the officer listened,
only once interrupting him, and then to hiss reconnoitered the camp of the band.

He had intended to demand their surrender
from the cliff, and shoot down those who re-
fused: but he wished to take Colorado King
alive, and he knew that he would not surrender,
so. observing the snowdrift, he made up his
mind to spring his horse over the clifl‘, shoot
several of the band, and then call u on them to
surrender, making them believe t at soldiers

“ Hickok, I will have that man hanged one
hour after he returns to this fort.”
Then lVild Bill went on to relate his rescue of
Red Star, the Girl Queen of the Blackfeet, and
how she had in return saved his life, taken him
to the village of her people, and placed him un-
der the care of the medicine-chief of the tribe,
and how for long weeks he had lingered, but at were covering them with their cdrbines.
last recovered his health and strength.
Until the first thaw of the ice in the hills he
had remained in the Indian camp, and been
treated as their friend, and then, mounted upon
a superb black horse, given him by the Red he knew lay the deep snow—drift below.
3 father, the chief of the tribe, he had
started upon his return to the fort.
Colonel Burr heard his story with the deepest
interest, and then said:
“Hickok, I congratulate you upon your es-
cape from death, and I pledge you my word
that Colorado King shall die.

At the call of the commandant an orderly ap-
peared at an inner door.
“ See if the guide, Colorado King, has re~
turned, and bid him come to me at once!”
The orderly saluted and disappeared; but soon
returned with the report:
“The guide came back, sir, more than an
hour ago, and the sentinel said that he came to

“ By Heaven! he saw you here, Hickok.
“ Where is he now. orderly?”
“ He left the fort, sir, half an hour ago.”

“ Ha! who went with him?”
“Slugger Sam, Dead Beat Dick, and four

“Do you hear that, Hickok? He has gone
with the worst lot of rascals in the
with the start he has will escape me."
“ No, Colonel Burr, for I shall start at once.
and. as I see. by the orderly’s coat, that it is may be able to do so.

snowing, I will have no trouble in tracking “I’ll just take alook and see.”
them. for these are moonlight nights now, and
it will be bright enough.”

 

CHAPTER IX.

TAKING DESPERATE CHANCES.
LED by Wild Bill the troopers knew that
there was work ahea
They were well aware that Colorado King
was a dangerous man to trifle with.
What wrong he had been guilty of, only Wild other shot through the heart.
Bill and the colonel knew; but the
the commandant’s last words, w ich meant

for them to do.

had heard

of their ilk, who had gone with Colorado King,
were also to be feared, especially if brought to them burial in the snow.

a .

But then, with Wild Bill leading, the troopers
had little to fear, and they pressed on hard
through the storm and thickening snow.
The moon was at its full, and though the
clouds were overcast, there was ample light to
follow the broken trail through the snow, but
which was being obliterated by the drift and effected.
The side of the canyon was very steep, and
some fifty feet in hight; but here and there grew
stunted trees, and to these lariats had been
made fast, and one by one the horses had been
But one by one the horses of. the cavalrymen half-carried, half-dragged to the top.
dropped back, the men became benumbed with
cold,and the daring scout felt that he would
soon be alone on the trail. .
To turn back for a larger force and better
horses would be to lose the trail altogether, and
this it was not the nature of Wild Bill to do.
To force the soldiers to follow him would be
to perhaps cause some of them to lose their lives, they have gone.”
so be determined to act alone, and let cir-
cumstances as they happened master the situa-
tion for or against him.

IVith unerring skill Wild Bill pressed on,
reining his horse back now and then so as not
to leave the troopers too far behind.

while the
llow it, for

5

re, and going through the

toward the head of the canyon.

darted like an arrow down the canyon.

in the canyon out of range.

in a way that showed he was in a quandary.

At any rate he would find out.

of the head of the canyon.

 

CHAPTER X.
A swm FOR LIFE.

heap where his horse had come down.

ice.

best wa to escape.

him up there without the aid of several men.

once he started upon the back trail.

him to the point he desired to reach.

the terrible work.

was followin .

rado King.
“This looks bad—”

dropped to his side useless, while his shot, sent

Hands up, or die!”

him upon foes who had gained his rear.

There was but one way of escape, and that

Still it was his only chance, for, sheltered be~

Away then to the left he darted like an ar-

with terrific leaps.

Shot after shot followed him, yet the bullets
flow by without harm, and his noble horso
quickly distanced pursuit.

But glancing back, as he neared the river,

others coming on in hot chase.
The allies of the fugitive guide he saw were

 

by the fire, be mounted his horse and rode down

There he dismounted and on foot carefully

not do. though it certainly looked like

As soon as his mind was made up to this
course, be mounted his horse, threw the reins
over his neck, and drawing his revolvers headed
ata run directly for the cliff at a point where which he stood and cut him off from
wholly by that way.

But with the utmost coolness be surveyed his two thousand shares, you know. I’ve only
chances, and then, making a sling for his
wounded arm, he deliberately rode into the
rushing riVer, with the remark:

“Come, Black Diamond, it’s a swim for life,
so don’t let Death win.”

With yells, as they saw his daring act, the
pursuers rushed to the cabin, and Colorado
King and four others haStily shoved the boat
into the stream and sprung in.

Two men quickly seized the four oars, one
stood up in the bows to push off the ice with a
pole, while Colorado King and another were in
the stern, their revolvers in their hands.

As he saw them coming rapidly in chase,
“'ild Bill quickly whceled about in his saddle,
facing to the rear, while the horse swam boldly
on, and raising his revolver fired.

At the shot the man in the bow dropped
down and hung over the gunwale, a bullet in
his heart.

A second shot toppled over the outlaw in the
stern by the side of Colorado King, who at once
sprung to his feet and began to fire at Wild
Bill, while the wounded man at his feet
clutched wildly at his legs in the agonies of
death.
"Surrender, Wild Bill!” shouted Colorado
King, in a voice hoarse with passion.

Urged by the spurs, the frightened animal
went over with a mighty bound, and seeing that
he was going to land all right in the snow-drift,
Wild Bill began to fire upon the horrified band.

At the first shot Dead Beat Dick fell dead, and
a second brought down another of the band,
who seemed paralyzed beyond all action by the
startling flight of the horse and rider over the
cliff.

But down into the snow the animal went, and,
maddened with fear, be bounded from it and

With his revolvers in his hands, and the reins
about his neck, it was some time before “'ild
Bill could draw the animal to a half, and then
the volley of rifle-shots that came flying down
the canyon proved to him that the outlaws had
recovered from their surprise, and that it would
be madness for him to charge back upon them.

“ Ah, Black Diamond, you served me a shabby
trick that time in running away with me." said
“Ind Bill to his horse, as he rode behind a bend

“ Now what is to be done?” he asked himself

For some moments he sat in silent thought,
camp, and and then said, half~aloud:
‘ “I don’t believe that they can get out of the
head of the canyon on horseback, though they

Leaving his horse in a secluded spot, “’ild
Bill set off on foot to flank the position of the
“Bravo for you, “'ild Bill, and you shall outlaws and discover what they were about.
have all the men you want to accompany you.”
“Thank you, sir, and while they are getting he might get them under cover of his rifle.
ready, I will throw off this skin suit for another,
as it is too hot to work in,” and Wild Bill has
tily departed for his old quarters, to return in
half an hour dressed in his border attire of
hunting jacket, leggings, the bottoms stuck in
high cavalry boots, a sombrero, and a heavy
cloak thrown over his shoulders.
He had also replaced his Indian—robe saddle
for an elegant one of the Mexican pattern, and
mounting in haste, rode out of the fort in the had escaped.
blinding storm at the head of a dozen brave

Perhaps, if he could gain the cliff, he thought,

But through the deep snow, and in the blind-
ing storm, it was serious work to get along, and
so he found it, strong and hardened as he was.
At last after two hours of desperate strug-
gling, he gained a point that gave him a view

One glance was sufficient to show him that
the canyon was deserted, and that the outlaws

As soon as Wild Bill made the discovery that
his game had fled, he sprung from the cliff, over
which he had ridden, and landed in the snow-

There, by the still burning camp-fire, lay two
dead bodies, one with a bullet in his brain, the

They were Dead Beat Dick and his unfortu-
nate comrade, who had been the victims of the
scout’s unerring aim while he was in mid-air on
“Bring him back alive, Hickok, if possible, his downward flight.
for to be shot like a soldier is too good a death Their pockets had been rifled, and their arms
were gone, showing that their com nions had
Slugger Sam, Dead Beat Dick, and Others no desire toleave anything of value bind, and
thought not enough of the dead to even give

To his delight Wild Bill saw that the storm
was breaking away, and the sun promised to
soon come out with warmth enough to melt the

Following the trail of the outlaws to the
thickbt where their horses had been sheltered,
Wild Bill discovered how the escape had been

“ Colorado King evidently expected I had re-
inforcements below in the canyon, and took the

“Wel , he had to work for it, for, as good a
climber as Black Diamond is, I could not get

“ Now to strike their trail and see which way

With some little difficulty, which demon—
strated the hard task the outlaws had had in
getting their horses up the hill-side, Wild Bill
“ Lieutenant Lockwood, I think you had bet— gained the summit and struck off on the trail.
“ If they turn to the right at Red Rock, they
are making for the Black Hermit’s Canyon, and

A walk of a quarter of a mile, trudging
through the now melting snow, brought him to
Red Rock, which had received its name on ac.~

“ To the right they go. and straight to Black
Hermit’s Canyon,” he cried, cheerily, and at

Regaining his horse, he was soon heading
down the canyon, and reaching the valley,
turned on a course which he knew would bring

But breaking his way through the snow-drifts
he soon found was too heavy work for his horse,
and that he could not reach Black Hermit Can-
“There is no man at the post, sir, I would you before the outlaws.
rather have with me than you; but you could
not stand the cold three hours longer, warmly the hills, and soon struck the trail of the band.

“ Now, Diamond, you can go along better,
after seven horses have broken the way for you,
old fellow,” said Bill, glad to ease his horse of

So he turned short of! to the right, climbed

As though heappreciated the favor done him,
the noble horse pressed on at a swinging pace,
but was soon brought to a halt, as his rider
caught sight of a second trail joining the one he

“ Hello! this comes from the west, where the

“Yes, and it was made b the Buckskin
Bravos. and they have united orces with Colo-

Loud and clear came the startling summons,
and glancing upward, for the sound came from,
above, Wild Bill beheld a man, seated in a tree,

through the brain of his foe, brought him crash-
Bill came to a thicket of pines, and saw that the ing through the branches down to the ground.
trail wound down into a valley. ‘
“I believe that they have hunted cover in “Surrender, Wild Bill!”

the Lost Valley, and if so I can head them oif “ Move, and you are a dead man!”

without going round by the valley,” he mut- Such were the cries that rung out here and
there from the timber, and Wild Bill knew that
Then, turning away from the track, he urged be had been caught in a desperate situation.

his horse up the hillside, and soon found a snel- But he did not hesitate an instant upon his
tered nook, where he dismounted and secured course.

his horse, wholly out of reach of the sleet-laden To turn back on the trail he saw would bring
winds.
Goin on foot for a few hundred yards, he To go forward would be to confront as many
a clifl‘.’ overhan ing a canyon, and cau- more, and upon his right were others.

tiously glancing over be old his game.
“ I have not time to return to the fort for was to the left.

help, for they will doubtless move early, so I But then he knew in that direction lay the
will make myself comfortable until dawn,” he river, and the spring thaw had doubtless broken
muttered, as he retraced his way to Where be up the the ice in it.

had left his horse.
Selecting a spot free from snow, and wholly hind trees, his foes were in every other direc-
sheltered by rocks, he gathered some wood and tion.

soon had a cheerful fire.
Throwing himself down before it on his row, his horse bounding through the light snow
blankets, he began to think over the best plan
of action, and when daylight dawned he had
decided upon his course.

It was a desperate undertaking, but Wild Bill
had been in just as desperate deeds and escaped,
and he would not flinch from carrying out his Wild Bill beheld Colorado King and a dozen

 

men of an outlaw band known as the Buckskin “Fifteen and a half! Nonsense. I can sell
Bravos, and who he was aware had their them in open market for thirtyvflve to—day."
haunts in that locality somewhere. _
As he approached the river, to his regret he in the market.”
found it swollen to a torrent. and filled with “No more they are.”
cakes of ice that dashed furiously along.
Then. to his surprise, he behold a 0g cabin investment, at thirty—five. Hasn’t pai a divi-
gpon its banks, and in front of it was a rude dend for two years.”
oat.
A glance showed him that to escape by the “Oh, I know. 1 watch these things. You
boat was to desert his horse, and this he would won’t take fifteen and a half? Well. good—morn- '
daring ing. If you conclude to take my offer, drop me .i‘ ”
death for both to ride into that ice-filled, foam- a line at the Appomattox House, room 87. "‘
mg stream.
But behind him came his foes, stretched out And the stranger was walking out, when Wal— 
so as to throw a line upon the small point upon lis observed: ";
escape “Don‘t be in such a hurry. I’ll sell you what "

But back came the defiant answer:

“Come on and take me, Colorado King, if
you like the sport!”

(To be continued—commen ced in N0. 28.)

 

 

A LESSON OF LIFE.

BY ARTHUR GLENN.

 

 

I sought in a wild and verdant vale,

(’Neath the mountains tow’ring above),
Where the wild beasts bound at a oreign sound,
And each spot hides a weird, thrilling tale~—

I sought in this deep, secluded dale

For a rock fern for my love.

I sought by the babblin brook.

And there, where the right spray fell,
’Neath a shelt’ring vine. was a prince‘s pine—
Green prince of its lonely nook;

Too sacred for leaf or book;

Happy enough in the dell!

For hours i searched in the valley deep,
But no rock held the prize I sought;
Then I turned m eye to the mountain high—
%to the rugg and wooded stee ,
ere the swaying trees their viglIs keep,
And the storms of ages have fought.

Then I toned up the weary way,
And gained my reward at last!
For I found the prize for my love's blue eyes;
And I learned a esson that day,
That has chased the shadows away
From the bright dreams of the put.

’Twas never to seek in life‘s valley low,
But up on the highest peak:
To turn my eye to the mountains high,
And climb to the realms of eternal snow.
Altho h the clouds be threatening and low,
And t e winds in anger shriek.

Ia‘sper Ray,

 

The Journeyman Carpenter;

on,

One Man as Good as Another
in America.

A Story of How a. Carpenter Made His Way in

the World.
BY CAPTAIN FRED. WHIT’I‘AKER,

 

AUTHOR or “JOHN ARMSTRONG, MECHANIC.”

 

~ CHAPTER XXIV.
IN THE STOCK MARKET.

SENATOR WALLIS was seated in his library
one morning, thoughtfully smoking a cigar, and
brooding over something, when he heard a ring
at the bell, and the black waiter brought in a
card on a salver.

The card contained the name:

“MR. J on}: RICHARDS,
“New York.”

“Richards, Richards?” repeated the senator,

thoughtfully. “Don’t know him. What does
he want?”

“Business, sah. Gentleman said it was ’bout
stocks, sah.” '

The senator pricked up his ears.
“Stocks, eh? Tell him to come in.”
And his face wore its most courteous and
smiling business-mask, as he waited the arrival
of the stranger, practicing before the glass.
The Senator had all sorts of smiles for busi-
ness. There was the blandly condescending
smile for employees, if he wanted to persuade
them to a fall in wages, or an increase of work;
the exasperating smile for deputations of men
who wanted something he had made up his mind
not to give: the confidential smile for political
friends; and, among others, the blandly insinu-
ating smile with which he now greeted the new-
comer, whom he suspected of being a possible
purchaser.

The stranger was tall, and had a well-built,
athletic figure and the walk of a person
prime of life, though his hair was gray, and his
eyes seemed to be weak; for he wore green gog-
gles over them.

He was rather shabbin dressed, and had a
rusty-brown overcoat that was white at the
seams, while he carried a hooked hickory cane,
that had had the varnish knocked off the lower
art, along with the fernle, and had consequent-
y expanded into a sort of brush at the end.

But this shabbiness of appearance did not re-
vent the senator from being as polite as possnble
to the stranger, for the latter had a certain some-
thing about him that bespoke money. ,
Perhaps it was the stoop of his head, as if
looking about on the ground fora penny that he
had lost, or the drawn lines of the mouth that
looked peevish and fretful; at all events, the
senator greeted him with his blandest smile, and
inquired:

“ And how can I be of service to you, to—day,
my dear sir?”

The stranger bobbed his head in a‘stitf, awk-
ward salutation, responding, in a. nasal sort of
way: ‘

“ How do, how do, senator? Heard you were
in; thought I’d call. I’m in the railroad line
myself. Had some little experience in building

rs, too. How d’ye quote your stock, now?

I might invest, if I got it cheap.”

The senator bummed, and seemed to be con-
sidering before he answered:

“ Well, now, as a. matter of fact, I don’t know
there’s any on the market—3’

“ True, true. Noticed that. What’s the mat-
ter? Won’t the stock board touch it?” queried
the stran er, sharply.

Wallis rew up stifily.

“ Not touch it, indeed? They couldn’t get it.
The stock’s all in a few hands.”

“I know, I know. Heard it all before. I’m
an old operator, Wallis. Can’t come it over me.
I want two thousand shares, and I’m ofiered
them at sixteen. I’ll give you fifteen and a half
for all you’ve got, and pay cash.”

The stranger spoke in a hard, decided wa ;
and Wallis saw that he had no fool to deal wit ;
but he laughed scornfully as he retorted:'

price, but I’ll take it.”

yer, dryly. “We lose ei hteen midi-ed dollars
on the transaction. \vi 1 ye sell the twelve a
hundred ye bought today at the same price?” 3

bites of a cherry,
in the
ther crestfallen. “ I can get them to-day.
Here’s the eighteen hundred.

a half, is twenty-seven thousand nine hundred.
Mr. Roberts, count those certificates, write out
a rec-313m, “and give the gentleman his check.

resumed his writingas if the once roud million-
aire had been a beggar, while “ll
check as quietly as if he were used to the way
he was being treated, and Went 01!.

11888 best, but ,
stock for what you gave for it.” ‘1

“ We know what we’re about, and in the mean
time I’ve a little business proposition to make

to e.”

He rose and shut the door, and the old sena-
tor, who felt very diflerent now that he had
nearly fifty thousand dollars in his pocket,
chuckled as he said:

for business. hat is it?”
and said, in a low voice:
superintendent of the works and coming down

to hard-pan at once, senator?”

Diamond Stock what it used to be. Me client
now represents the company. and owns all the
stock, and surely ye’ve got enough cars and '
plant in the factory to sell for more than we
gave for it.”

the propensity v’er common among business

   

 

  
  
  
  

“Can, can you? Hum! Thought they weren't

   
   
       
 
  
 
 
  

“Hum! Pretty choice stock to kee for an

   
   
     
   
 
   
 

  

“ How do you know, sir?”

 

   

There: I’ve written it on the card. Good day.” V I 11.7

you want at thirty-five, if you like—that is, not 

eighteen hundred at present—”

“ Yes, I_ know. Percy owns the rest. Three » 
thousand in all. You hold the controlling inter— . 
est. I understand. No. I can’t stop. Came to 

tiny {it my own price. Don’t wanttosell? GO'KI-
( ay. .

And he was hurrying off, when the old sen- 9
ator called out: ' '~ '

“Come, I don’t want to be mean, and I do  ‘
grant, to get out of this; I‘ll sell you at twenty-

ve.

“Can’tbc done. Go to Percy,” replied the
old gentleman in green goggles. “No use. Not
a cent over fifieen and a half. 1’“ try in the
market to-morrow.”

And with that he really was off, and the sen-
alor saw him going down the street, looking .7.
shabbier than ever, in the open air, while old -
Wallis muttered:

“ Strange! Very strange! The first offer for
our stock in a year. \Vhat does it mean? If I
could sell out at thirty-five, I might make a
good thing yet, and pay off Percy. I believe 1’11 1‘-
try the market.” -.

 

 

 

Diamond Car Stock had not been on the mar- ’ ~
ket for over a year; since Percy had been pres- -
ident. There had been no dividend al the close  ‘
of the previous year, but instead of it a call on
the stookholders, to supply losses caused by ex-
travagant purchases, and the result had been a
panic, with every one wanting to sell, and no
one to buy; the stock falling in three days to a
very low price, at which Percy had bought in
all there was to sell, to the amount of twelve  
hundred shares. The remainder, in Senator "3 '
“’allis’s hands, had been quoted at a hundred
and fifty-seven when he went to Europe, and it
was onl on his return that he had found, from
the shrinkage of the market, that his Wealth
had been lessened to about one-eighth of what *
it had been when he went away, with absolutely  f
no sale for what he had left. ' “
Had it not been for his real estate, he would
have fared badly; and what made matters
more perplexing was that the bills on the new
house kept coming in every day, and he had to
provide means for meetin them, with the re-
sult that he fell more ang more into Percy’s
power, having, at the time that Mr. Richards f
came to him, a debt of fifty thousand dollars, ».
secured on notes that were to come due in a 
few days, and all his available means ex-
hausted.
It was under these circumstances that the
senator thoughtfully went down to his broker’s,
and told him to put out a few shares on the
final-ket, and see i he could sell them at thirty.
ve.
The broker promised to try, and the senator
went to the stock board that afternoon, to see
the operation.

 

The president called over the list till he came . .
to “ Diamond Car," and was passing over it as - 
unworthy of any attention, when a broker 

jumped up and yelled:

“ I’ll give fourteen and three-eighths for three
thousand Diamond Car”

There was a bush at this for a moment, and
then a number of brokers jumped 11 and began
to bid up the stock till it reached eig teen, when
the first broker shouted:

“ I’ll sell -twelve hundred Diamond at four-
teen and a half, ten days buyer.”

The senator nodded to his own broker, who
lustily shouted:

 

“ SOLDII”
Then the hubbub quieted, and the senator be- .:
gan to investigate. He knew the man who had , 

sold the stock short to be the agent of S cphen
Percy, and wondered what that gentleman
could mean by selling at such a low price. ,
But he could get no satisfaction out of the 4
broker beyond: ‘1'
“It’s sold,.senator: and if you want to pay
the money you can have it."
So the senator went away to the Appomattox
House, thinkin to himself: -
“ I shall be c ear of all liability, and have ten é 3’
thousand dollars cash in pocket. The crash I
must come for me ve soon, and as long as I ' "
am clear of my stock am free of Percy. He
can’t impound the money.”
He sent up his card to room 87, and was at
once sent down a message: ‘
“Mr. Richards was too ill to see any one; 3:
but if the gentleman would call on Mr. 
O’Rourke. at No. 1247 Madison Place, he could
perform his business.”
And the senator, used as he was ‘to seeing
every one how at his feet, had to do as he was
told, or lose the mono , for which, at that mo- ». 1
meat, he had a great onging. 
He knew O’Rourke by reputation only, and '

 

was mortified to find that his name produced 
no impression when it was announced in the of~ ,;
ties, for he was actually kept waiting for twenty 1

minutes before O’Rourke would see him, and :7
then was ted curtly with: 'p

“ Well, ave ye brought the certificates?” ‘ "
“ Yes,’ said the senator, stifly. “It’s a low

“ Not so low as it’s gone since ” said the law—

“ Yes,” said t e senator, ea rly.

“ Then go and get them. ouse making two
was the reply. .' 9

“ I haven’t got them,” answered Wallis m- 

“All right—eighteen hundred, at fifteen and

And O’Rourke, who was in the inner omce,

allis took his «

He proceeded straight to the bank and drew

the money, then went to Percy’s broker, paid 
for his stocks there, and came back to O’Rourke’s ‘
office, where he received another sum which 3‘
made him smile as he put itin his pocket, re-
marking:

“ Well, I suppose you know your own busi-
hope you’ll be a Is to sell that

“Never fear,” answered O’Rourke, quietly.

“ Very g very good. I’m always open _
O’Rourke came and sat down opposite tohim, 
“ What would ye say to taking the post of A

“Doing what?” asked Wallis, puzzlqd. 
“ Coming down to hard-pan, and making the ‘4.

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 
 

The senator grinned.
Now that he was out of the~trouble, he had

 

men, to decry the argain that his opponents

  

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 
 

    
  
 
  
     
      
  
    
   
 

       
   
  

   
  

 



fl: 9;  r

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

had made, and insist that he had overreached
them. '
“Yes,” he replied, “there’s half a million of
plant and another half-million in rolling—stock,
but there are attachments to cover it all.” _
“ All but the goodwill and the contract With

the railroads,” said O’Rourke, keenly. “Ye
forget that.”

The senator sneered.

“Much that will amount to. You don’t
know that young Percy as I do. _ He’ll not ex-
tend them after the time expires, and then
where will you be?"

O‘Rourke waved his hand.

“Never mind. That’s ourbusiness. So ye re-

fuse the post of superintendent?” I O

“ I didn’t say so,” returned Wallis, cautiously;
“but I must take time to think over it all.
What do you intend to do?” .

“ To offer you what I’ve said.”

“ At how much salary?”

“What ou oflered Jasper Ray two years
ago, Mr. -allis.” _

The senator started as if his face had been
slapped, as he ejaculated:

“ Jasper Ray! What do you know about
him? ls he in this?”
O’Rourke smiled. He saw that J asper’s name

had made the other uneasy.

“ Yes, he’s in it. Between you and me, we’ve
purchased your company’s rights “for the Eme-
rald men, and we’re going toconsohdate. If you
want to take the superintendency, you can have
it; but you’ll have to fight Percy, at once.”

The senator shook his head.

“I daren’t do it. Give me time to think. See
here. Who is that Richards?”

“ Our General Agent.”

“ Couldn’t be come to see me to-night, and I’ll
give you a positive answer.”

“ At what time?”

“ Eight o’clock. After dinner.” .-

“ I’ll tell him. Maybe he’ll be there, if ye
don’t have Paircy there.”

“ I’ll see that he doesn’t come. Good—day.”

And the senator walked slowly out to his car-
riage—for he still had to keep up appearances
and live at the rate of fifty thousand dollars a.
year—and drove away to his own house.

As he went, he passed by the offices of the
Diamond Car Company, which he had once been
so proud of, and saw that everything had the
usual appearance of bustle, the clerks at work,
money pouring in and going out in all the regu-
lar and well-ordered machinery that he had .:et
in motion himself, years before, and by which
he had made a fortune.

Now it was all gone. A few months, trusting
to another, a little carelessness in his old age,
had reduced him to the condition of a man who
if he paid all his debts, had not a penny to call
his own. Even the money then in his pocket
did not belong to him, by rights; but was all
owed to Percy, and he had too much experience
of the tyrannical selfishness of that young man
to doubt that he would exact the uttermost
penny, were be able to do it. . .

As he thought of all this, he said to himself:

“ It will never do for me to take the post of
superintendent and try to raise the old company
to its former footing. He would come down on
me at once, and demand his money; and I should
have to ay it, for he would be able to catch me.
No, I’d tter go away with what I have, and
flee with Edith to some quiet place where we can
spend the rest of our lives. oor girl, it will be
a fall for her to find that the very house I took
so much pride in erecting is covered with liens,
and likely to go under the hammer. It Will
have to be broken to her, sooner or later, and it
can’t be long, now.” . .

He went to his house and shut himself up in
his library, when a knock came at the door,
and Mrs. Van Cott came in, and dropped a
courtesy.

“ hat is it, Mrs. Van Cott?” he asked, and
she answered with some hesitation:

“ I don’t exactly like to trouble you, sir, but
the fact is Merrill & Titus’s man has been here
to-da , twice, for a check.”

“ uml the grocers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“ How long has their account been running,
ma’amé”

“ Over a year, sir.
from Europe.”

“ HOW much is it?”

Mrs. Van Cott silently extended the bill, and
he started as he lanced at the footing of nearly
two thousand do lars. _

A deep frown crossed his brow as he said:

“ That’s a swindle, ma’am. It must be.” ‘

Mrs. Van Cott pursed up her lips, but said
nothing, and he continued: I

“Any more bills outstanding?” .

“ We’ve not paid any for some months, sir,”
answered Mrs. Van Cott, frigidl . _

The senator glanced at the hi 1, fr0wned, hit
his 1i 3, threw down the account on the table,
and nally said:

“ Contound him! tell him
morrow.”

“I’ve told him so," replied the housekeeper,
in the same way as before.

“ Well, what did he say?”

“He said he would stay here till he saw you,
if he had to wait all night.”

“ Confound his impudence!
the men to put him out?”

“ No, sir.’

“ Why not, why not?”

“ Because he told me that, if he was put out,
an attachment was to be put on the house at
once, sir. Those were his orders from his em-
ployers.” . '

The senator took up the bill again and looked
at it, as it trying to find some errors; but those
uncompromising figures stared him in the face,
and at last he said reluctantly:

“Tell him I’ll pay him five hundred on ac-
count, and the rest next week. Here: take the
money and see he receipts the bill, Mrs. Van
Cott.”

“ Very well, sir.” .

And away went the housekeeper With a
cheerful alacrity that showed how much she
was relieved by receiving the money, while the
senator thought: . .

“If they all come down on me in this way,
I’ll not have much left to start the world again.”

Then he began to walk nervously up and
down the room, thinking to himself over all his
debts and perplexities. and how much he would
have left if he fled the city; and finally sunk
into a chair, his face buried in his hands in
which attitude his daughter Edith found him,
as she came into the room, attired in costly rai-
ment and exclaimed in surprise:

“ h papa, what’s the matter?”

The old man looked up, and his usually hard
face softened as he looked at his beautiful
dau hter and said:

‘ i‘Iy child, is it you?”

Since you came back

I’ll pay him to-

Didn’t you tell

 

ZCHAPTER XXV.
Farris}; ANDthllsIUGri'iiER.ffl “ .b _
aa’reurne egir,so y; 11s
I. Y{VYVIIEJSat‘is Ithb matter with you to—da ? Are
you ill? You look paler than usual. hat has
”

aggggeglre kindly, yet there was a certain in-
definabe coldness in her tone, that the old
man’s senses, made keen by the blows of the
last few months, detected, and he answered

gloomily: _

“ Nothing, child, nothing that you need care
about—today. Don’t exert yourself to sym-
pathize with me. Go about your pleasures
while you can.”

Edith looked at him more carefully.

“There is something the matter, I’m sure,”
she said. “ Don’t be cross; but tell me what it
is. Is it a headache?”

“ No, child.”

“A toothache?”

“ It’s no bodily pain, child.”

“ No bodily pain? Is it mental pain f”

a Yes, child, it is.”

“ Have I any share in it ?”

“ You are the whole of it.” ‘

“Have I done anything to hurt you?”

The senator hesitated.

He looked first at his child; then at the gor-
geous room in which they stood, and for the
first time in his life came into his head an idea

 

 

of unmitigated and besotted selfishness, where
Edith was concrrned. Hitherto she had been
his only sorrow in the thought of his ruin, and
yet now, for the first time, came into his head
the thought that he might be able to extricate
himself from his trouble by her assistance or—
her sacrifice.

“Edith,” he said, gloomily, “I’ve been good
to you, haven’t I!”

She laid her hand on his shoulder.

“In all things save one, father.”

He frowned impatiently.

“Of course, of course. You wanted me to
let you beggar yourself in name and position,
by marrying that upstart—”

“ Who sprung from the same place as my
father,” she retorted, quickly. “ Anything else
you like, father, but don’t call him an upstart.”

The senator looked sullenly at the floor as he
answered:

“I might have spared myself the trouble of
appealing to your feelings had I known you
were as obstinater set on my ruin as ever.”

“ On your ruin?”

Here her dark eyes opened wide.

“ What do you mean, father?”

A knock at the door interrupted them, and
Mrs. Van Cott came in and laid the bill on the
table, saying:

“ There is the receipt on account, sir. He
grumbled a good deal, but went off.”

Edith listened, and a change came into her
face. She waited till the housekeeper had gone
out, and then came close to her father, asking:

“Is it possible that you are in trouble for
money?”

He gave a short, bitter laugh. .

“ It is not only possible, but it is very prob-
able that before many months more I shall be
sold out here.”

She started and looked at him, but said noth—
ing for some time, during which he sat with his
eyes bent on the ground the picture of dejec-
tion. At last she drew a long breath, saying:

“Why didn‘t you tell me of this before? I
ought to have known it.”

“ Because you never seemed to care, as long
as you had money for your Own pleasures,” he
retorted, bitterly. “ You might have seen that
I was uneasy.”

“Yes; but I attributed that to another and
different cause.”

“ What cause?”

She hesitated and colored slightly.

“Never mind now. I was mistaken.
tell me the worst.”

“ The worst is, I’m ruined. Nothing can be
worse than that,” he said, bluntly.

“ But, I mean, tell me how ‘you came to be in
debt. I thought we were very rich. Surely
you’ve spent thousands and thousands on that
unlucky house.”

“ Yes,” he retorted, bitterly, “ there’s where
it went. I was bound to give my child the
handsomest house in America, and it was all go-
ing well, till, in that unlucky hour, we went to
Europe.” '

“ But I did not want to go to Europe. You
insisted on my going, and gave up the presi-
dency of the company.”

“ Yes,” he answered, gloomily. “That was
my mistake. The salary would have made the
difference between me and ruin. I trusted to
Percy to give it up when 1 came back, but he
broke faith with me. Ah, well, it’s no use try-
ing to think what I might have done. It’s done
now, and the question is whether you have
enough love for me to save me.”

He said this in the same gloomy way, glanc-
ing furtively up at her as he spoke, to see how
she took it. She seemedto be both surprised
and leased at what he said.

“ hat! Can I save you? My dear, dear
father, can you think I would hesitate to do it?
What is it? To give up my property in the
house? Will that pay your debts? Oh, how

lad I am! I hate the very look of the place.

always have hated it. I’ll give it up at once,
as soon as I mine of age, an that is only two
months more.”

“ No, no, that would do no good,” he said, still
more gloomily. “ My poor child, you don’t un-
derstand me yet.”

“Then what can I do? I thought the house
was worth a million. ”

“ So it is, with the lot, but it is not ours. I
paid away all my ready mone to those thieves
of mechanics, and they swal owed it all and
have liens on the place for nearly all its value.
The house will have to go, unless you save it.”

“What do you mean by my savin it?” she
interrupted, impatiently. “How can save it,
if it has to be sold?”

The old man looked embarrassed for a mo-
ment, and answered:

“ Sit down, sit down. It requires some ex-
planation. If you’ll attend to me, I’ll tell you
the whole story.” _

She obeyed him, trembling slightly, and he
went on, beginning in a low voice, with his eyes
averted: '

“ I must go back to the time when you were
a baby, Edith.”

“ Go on, sir. I’m listening.”

“Your mother was a great friend of Mrs.
Perc , Stephen’s mother.”

“ es, sir. ”

“They both died in the same month, when
Stephen was five years old and you only three
weeks in the world. They were very much at-
tached to each other—”

Here the old man seemed to be positively af-
fected by some remembrance, for he stopped
and gave a deep sigh.

Presently he resumed:

“ You never knew your mother. Both she
and Mrs. Percy were plain, quiet women, who
worked their lives out to help their husbands,
and we both toiled hard, with the one object of
amassing wealth for our little ones. We fathers
are apt to do that, and much thanks we get for
it.”

He glanced at her again to see how this art-
ful appeal to her fee ings succeeded, and had
the satisfaction of seeing that her face was
working with emotion.

“Yes,” he went on, “Mary and Lizzie were
much attached to each other, and Lizzie—that
was Mrs. Percy—promised your mother, on her
death-bed, that Stephen should be your hus-
band, if you both grew up, while Mary seemed
to be quite satisfied with the promise, for
Stephen was a fine, sturdy boy, and a great fa-
vorite of your mother.”

He paused again to look at her, and she was
wee ing quietly, so he said:

“ hat was one reason why I was always so
anxious you should marry Stephen; but you
don’t seem to care much for the wishes of a dy-
ing mother.”

She looked up at him gently. _

“ Do you think any one has a right to promise
a girl against her will, even a mother?” she an-
swered. “Are you sure my mother was quite
sensible when she (promised it? Did she promise
it? You only sai Mrs. Percy, you know.”

He looked con‘used.

“ Of course, of course, it was all understood;
and your poor mother died happier for it. Mrs.
Percy, poor woman, took cold at her funeral,
and was buried three weeks after Mary, and
that circumstance engraved it on all our memo-
ries.”

“ Were you rich then?” asked Edith, curiously.

“ Yes, child, at least well off; and Percy and
I saw that our fortunes would lie together. So
we ratified the pledge mutually, and both swore
to perform the agreement.”

“ Regardless of our Wishes?” .

“No, no, we agreed not to force you; but it
was understood that we should use all legiti~
mate means to persuade. I‘Vhy, my dear, we
even considered the possibility that one of us
might meet with just such a misfortune as has
overtaken me, and agreed that, in such a case,
neither should falter from the bargain. Perc
and I understood and trusted each other. \ e
had worked at the same bench; been ap-
prentices and 'ourneymen together; and had
stuck together in trouble, so that we were bound
to do the same in pr s erity. IVhy, did you
know that there was grovision for the mar-
riage in old Percy’s will when he died, and that
Stephen cannot go back on you, if you hold
him to his promise?”

Now

 

 

 

l

Edith colored deeply.

“Hold him to his promise! What! Do you
think so meanly of your daughter, as to think
she would hold a man if he wanted to get free
of a promise?”

“But he does not, he does not. He is ready
to kiss the very ground you walk on,” the sena-
tor eagerly cried. “ It‘s you who are the only
obstinate person in the case.”

“ Of course. Because I dislike hi You
know it. I should lead an unhappy li e as his
wife. He is jealous, tyrannical, and might be
brutal.”

" If he’s jealous, that’s a compliment to you.
Tyrannical he is not—to you. He obeys your
slightest wish. Brutal he could never be, for
he adores you.”

“Perhaps, because he cannot have me. It
would be different after we were married.”

The senator uttered a heavy sigh.

“Ah, well, we won’t quarrel over it. If you
won’t, you won’t. I have told you I am ru-
ined. Let me add that I am sixty-seven, and
that a man of sixty-seven cannot commence the
world like one of twenty-seven.”

There was a short silence, during which Edith
seemed to be struggling with herself against
something painful.

At last she said, in a low voice:

“ Tell me, how would my—marrying Stephen
—aifect you?”

“ It would save me from all my trouble,” said
the senator, promptly.

“Tell me how. I want to be
my own mind what to do, father.

Overjoyed at her signs of yielding, he began
eagerly to explain:

“I’ve been a fool, Edith, a great fool, but it
was all for your sake, believe me. I’ll tell you
just how it came about. Two years ago that
fellow, Jasper Ray, was in our service, and our
stock was at a hundred and fifty-seven. We
were doing splendidly, and I was worth near a
million of dollars outside of my stock. But old
Percy was worth ten millions, and that nettled
me, every time I thought of it. I wanted my
daughter to be any man’s equal in fortune. I
had the company in my own hands, but money
did not come in to me as it did to Percy, and in
an evil hour I began to gamble in stocks, under
his advice. And I don’t know how it is, friend-
ship seems to be of no value among stock gam-
blers. Percy and I had been like brothers: but I
soon found that he was often on the opposite side
of the market, and when he was I was sure to lose.
It was before I began these speculations that I
invested half my savings for you in the hands
of the trustees, and it was then that Percy and
I executed our solemn written agreement as to
your marriage with Stephen, the clauses of
which are embodied in his will.”

“ And what were they?” asked Edith.

“That, on the day of your marriage, if any
incumbrance rests on your property, it is to be
removed before the ceremony, your husband’s
estate guaranteeing it, to the amount of one
million dollars.”

“ Then,” said Edith, in a low tone, “ you were
to sell me for money?”

“ No, no,” cried the senator, looking shocked;
“ you don’t understand, child. Any incum-
brance on your property, not mine, I said.”

“Then how can my marriage help you in
your debts?” she asked, raising her innocent
brown eyes to his face.

The senator looked a little confused.

“ Well, I’ll tell you. I admit I have been
foolish and imprudent; but I did it all for the
best, Edith.”

“ And what did you do?” she asked. “I want
to know everything, father. I will not say one
word of reproach if you’ll only tell me all.
I’ve been kept in the dark so long. so long. Oh,
if I had only known it all before!”

For the first time in their interview her voice
had a sad, desolate ring, and the senator began
to feel very uncomfortable.

“ I’ll tell you how it was, my dear,” he went
on, hurried y; “ I felt so sure of your marrying
Stephen after our agreement that, I own, I was
not careful enough. I did not heed my losses so
much, because I knew that they were all made
to old Pomp Percy. It seemed as if we held our
mone in common, and I didn’t mind being in
his debt. And Stephen was very much in ove
with you. I knew that, as his wife, you would
still be the richest woman in Chicago, and so I
went on and put all I had and all you had into
the house till it was gone, and then it was easy
to get credit for the rest on the value of the
property. But you must know that legally all
those debts are mine, and that I am liable for
them alone, as soon as it is discovered that I do
not own the property.”

“ Then don’t they know it?” she asked, in a
tone of wonder and alarm.

The senator hung his head.

“ They do not yet, and when they do, I am
liable to arrest for obtaining goods on false pre-
tenses. Now you know the worst. If you re-
pudiate your word to marry Percy, you will
still remain owner of the house, but I shall be
compelled to fly to avoid arrest and imprison-
ment.”

“ And if I marry Stephen Percy?” she asked,
gravely, “what then?”

“The liens will be paid ofi’ and I shall be free;
besides—” '

“Besides what?”

The old man colored deeply for the first time
in the interview as he replied:

“ Besides this I owe Stephen Percy fifty thou-
sand dollars individually for money advanced
since I lost m . fortune. He will not press me
for it, and I s all be enabled to go on at my 1e-
gitimate business and perhaps reestablish myself
as I was once.”

When the senator had finished there was a
long silence.

Edith appeared to be thinking deeply, and her
father did not dare interrupt her. At last she
raised her head and looked at him in uiringly.

“ How comes it that my trustees di not re-
vent this embarrassment?” she asked. “ ho
were they? I do not even know their names.”

“ One was Percy, the elder, the other was
Seth Welby, our superintendent. Percy did not
care, and Welby had no idea of the responsibil-
ity. He thought it was a mere honorary posi-
tion.”

“Then, really, they are liable to me as soon
as I come of age?”

H Y "I I

“And Mr. Welby has a family?”

“Yes, my dear. A large one.”

“And if the matter is brought into court it
will ruin him as well as you?”

“ It will.”

The senator grew more and more gloomy as
these replies were forced out of him and Edith
heaved a deep sigh.

“Then if I refuse to marry Ste hen Percy,”
she said at last, “ two families wi 1 be ruined,
but I shall remain a rich girl?”

“Yes, my dear. You see, after all, I have
saved you from harm.”

Edith turned her head away.

“ Yes," she said, reluctantly.
think so.”

She paused a little while, and then went on in
a hard, unnatural way:

“I see you think so; but rhaps you don’t
see in what a position I shoul be. Could I re—
main happy when you were a fugitive from jus-
tice, with every one staring as I went by, to
whisper: ‘ There’s the heiress whose father
cheated honest men, and ruined a life-long ser-
vant of the company that made his fortune?’
Could I rob little children to live in luxury my-
self? Could I ever marry an honest man? Could
Ieven look one in the face? No, you have taken
your measures well, father. I cannot help but
yield. Some one has to suffer, and it is best
that one should be myself. When do you want
me to marry Stephen Percy

The senator firlgeted nervously.

“That is not for me to say, my dear, but if
you wait till your majority, I fear there will be
an exposure. ’

She rose up from her seat with a short, bit-
ter laugh.

“I see. What is to be done must be done at
once. Iwill marry him next week if you please.
Write and tell him so.”

(To be continued—commenced in No. 19.)

quite clear in

“ I believe you

 

lust landsmen.

THE perils cf the deep have long furnished
material wherewith to gratify man’s yearning
for the marvelous, the exciting and the horri~
ble. It was a broad field. The horror of being
cast away in an open boat a thousand miles or
more from land, without perhaps the necessaries
of life, and with no instruments to guide the
unfortunates in their course, with “ water, wa-
ter everywhere, but not a drop to drink,” there
is indeed room for horror which no tongue can
tell and no pen describe.

But the perils of the deep are not greater than
those of the land. The great plains are oceans
in size and scarcely less to be dreaded than the
open seas. The mountains have witnessed as
terrible privations as were ever borne on the wa-
ters. The recent revival by the arrest of
Packer, of the dreadful tragedy in which he
took such a horrid part in the San Juan moun-
tains in 1873, brings it into the public mind
again with thrilling vividness. Few yarns of
the sea could have equaled the story of suffer-
in which Packer tells and which he must cer—
tainly have undergone, for whether he killed
the five companions whom he afterward assayed
to eat or not, the suffering could not but have
existed. True he smoked the meat, but he was
still at the dreadful necessity of eating it with-
out salt and cooked in a most primitive way.
Soup was out of the question on account of the
lack of a pot in which to boil the joints, of
which he had a liberal supply, and steaks and
roasts of necessity furnished his diet. Added
to this the disagreeable necessity of sleeping
sixt nights within a stone’s thr0w of the five
dea bodies, tortured perhaps by nightmares,
the result of a too heavy supper upon their
flesh, into visions which would have sickened
the soul of the Ancient Mariner. Certainly
Packer was not given to superstition. The be-
lief in ghosts could not have entered largely
into his composition or the fear of five stern
bodies from whom tenderloins and porterhouses
had been ruthlessly hacked might rise in the
dead hour of midnight and demand the return
of the stolen meat.

But this is by no means the only tale of hor-
ror which comes down as part of the early his-
tory of the State.

Postmaster Byers, of Denver, tells two stories
of almost equal horror. One is that of the Car-
Enter party which left Fort Leavenworth,

an., to cross the plains intending to secure
their supplies of food from the farmers on the
way to Pike’s Peak. Half the horrors of that
long march across the plains will probably
never be told, but one incident serves to mark
the extreme of privation reached. A man was
found by a party which started out from Den—
ver to pick up the stragglers, raving mad and
feasting upon the flesh of his two brothers
whom he had slain, and whose brains he had
eaten before touching the rest of their bodies.

Mr. Byers also tells of another case of peculiar
horror. It occurred in 1866. Two rospectors,
one named Henn, and also called ahn, after
whom Hahn’s eak has been named, and the
other named ’Brien, started to cross Mid-
dle Park. On the way a heavy snow—storm came
on, and the men lost their way. It was in the
early spring and when the sun came out it
struck the snow with a white glare that was
literally blinding. The men plowed their way
through the snow with the utmost difficulty for
a number of days, their eyesi ht growing dim-
mer hourly under the glare o the sun and snow.
Grand Lake was reached at last, and here Henri,
who was an old man, gave out.

After camping all night O’Brien left his com-
panion for the purpose of pushing on to civiliza—
tion and obtaining be] for the old man. His
eyesight gave out final y on that day, or to such
an extent as to be of little or no use to him.
He wandered aimlessly onward and at night
struck the place where he had left Henn. He
found the latter dead. Privation and fatigue
had told upon the mind of O’Brien rather than
upon his strong frame. He lay down and slept
that night by the side of his dead companion.
In the morning he rose, carefully added Henn’s
prospecting outfit, weighing between sixty and
seventy pounds, to his own, and thus incum-
bered resumed his efforts to escape from the
Park. For several days the iron strength of the
man roved able to sustain him in an aimless
wan ering, which took the shape of a circle.
He was finally descried by some cattle men who
had gone up into the Park to look after their
stock, still struggling along and carrying the
double outfit of prospecting tools. He was al—
most a hopeless wreck mentall , but after some
weeks’ care recovered his mindy. He told where
the body of Bonn might be found, but was so
far deceived by the fact that he had wandered
in a circle that he threw the searchers for
Henn’s remains into the error of believing that
it was many miles from where it really was.
Henri, before dying, had written a statement in
relation to the affair upon the sole of his snow-
shoe, as was found when his body was discov-
ered six months later.

 

 

Casual Mention.

 

WE import more lemons than oranges. In
1882 the figures were: lemons, 349.448,420, and
oranges, 244,273,290. Of orances, 33 per cent.,
and of lemons 20 per cent., spoil on the way here.

THE cultivation of rice is spreading rapidly
in Louisiana, and in the last ten years the pro-
duction of the State has doubled. There are
millions of acres still uncultivated, just adapted
to this crop.

THE first wedding ceremony ever performed
in America by a laov took place at Columbus,
0., recently, where Mrs. Lydia G. Romack, the
evangelist, married Charles Pim, of Damascus,
to Miss Emma Bryant.

A PANTHER came down over a ten-foot stone
wall inclosing the cattle—pen of a Woodstock
Vt., farmer, and, seizing a young steer, started
off with it. But the animal was tied by a rope
to another steer, and when found both were
dead, hanging Clothespin fashion over the wall.
The panther’s tracks in the snow told the story.
This all occurred late in March. Woodstock is
a good place to winter in for those who like
“Sport.”

WILLIAM W. CORCORAN, the Washington
millionaire and founder of the Corcoran pic-
ture gallery, is regarded by Mary Clemmer
Ames as “ benignantly beautiful.” He is slight-
ly above average hig t, of full port, but with-
out corpulence. His features are regular, his
gray hair ample and becomingly cut, and his
mustache shows “the rare and elegant shape
which younger men are wont to bestow upon
this decoration.”

LEWIS, the colored servant of Dr. William
Norris, of Baltimore. was married recently, and
he convulred the company by compelling the
bride, during the ceremony, to swear upon the
Bible that she “ never allowed any other nigger
t) bug or kiss her.” The bride was equal to the
emergency, and, with an unfaltering voice, she
said: “ Afore God, I never did!” Here came in
more applause, and when the excitement sub-
sided it became her turn to exact the same from
Lewis, but she was unsucnessful, as Lewis had
too much of the George IVashington material
in him. They were then stationed in the mid-
dle of the floor and the marriage ceremony was
performed by the Rev. Dr. Way.

AN Athens (Ga.) paper states that one Ter-
rell Speed, 9. trapper, who lives near Rome,
GIL, has been on a trapping expedition all the
winter down the Coosa river to the Alabama,
thence to Selma. He reached Wetumka with
110 beavers, capturing :35 from there to this
point. He has also the pelts of son coons, 7:“)
minks, wolves and other animals, about 575 in
all, from which he will realize about $475. He
has been studying trapping for fifteen years,
and has not been sick ten minutes during the
time. He says the country he has passed over
is fine hunting-ground—game in abundance from
deer down. He carries no gun or pistol with
him, his only weapon being a hatchet, which he
has chained around his waist.

99
\
//
l

 

 

 

 

 

Popular Poems.

——<o>-———

HO‘V 1T HAPPENS.

 

BY PAUL CARSON.

 

We stand by the stile in the meadow,
Breathing the wine-like air;

And glittering arrows of sunshine
Falling upon her hair.

The fragrance of trailing arbutus,
Floating like incense past,

And words that my tongue longs to utter
Breaking their bars at last.

They say she is proud as the angels.
Fallen throng pride—their sin,

And stately and cold as the icebergs
Binding the North Seas in.

And yet, when I whisper, “ I love you,"
Blushes like waves of light

Are flashing as brilliant auroras,
Over an Arctic night.

“ I love you my darling, I love you,”
Always love’s speech the same,
And higher, sui'mounting her forehead
Blazes the crimson flame.
Then slowly the curtains are lifted,
Vailing her shining eyes,
And there, 'mid the ights and the shadows.
Captive again, Love lies.
—St. Louis Post-Dispatch.

202

 

 

COMPENSATIONS.

 

BY M. E. B.

 

“ Why must we mourn for vanished light
For pleasures lost. as fair as fleeting,
And weep beneath the eyes of night,
The memory of our morning greeting?
Is joy too weak to live alway?
Is life so fond of pale-browed sorrow
That every hope which blooms to-day
Must fade and die before to-morrow?”

“ But nay,” a. voice within replied,
So sweet I could not choose but hear it,
“ God never yet hath light denied
To those whose souls can draw them near it.
Look up in trust, and see beyond
These clouds of ill, this vain repining,
A Father’s strength, sustained and fond,
A Father‘s love, securely shining.”

But doubting still, and weak, I moan,
“ Your Heaven’s too far—give something nearer;
Why are we left to stand alone,

With all gone by that made life dearer?
The friends we seek clasp hands and part,

The souls we love draw throbbing near us,
E e speaks to eye, heart leans to heart,

hen naught remains to help or cheer us!”

“ And yet, and yet,” the voice rung clear
And proud as 10ve and faith could make it,
“ While memory holds your friendship near,
Can love or change or sorrow break it?
Soul meets with soul—an instant’s ray
Can forge a chain no time can sever;
Through life, through death, by night and day,
Thus meeting once, they meet forever.
—-Ual2fo/ ma Spirit of the Times.

 

30;

 

THE WlCHITA “ POKER CRAZE.”

 

BY VINITA JIM.

 

Which I says for a heathen Injun
Who hasn’t civilized we. 5,
That Yellow Dog of the V ichitas
Was a. regular draw- oker “ craze.”
When we camped on t e Canadian,
Down low on the Southern Fork,
Missouri Dan had a greasy deck,
And we settled down to the work.

Dave dealt the papers to Baltimore
(Which Hal was also his name),
Hal “ antied," Yellow Dog “ stayed in,”
As likewise I did the same;
Then Dan “ passed out,” Hal “ raised the blind”
And “ throwed to the center ” to “ draw,"
And Yellow Dog stood the raise of Hal,
Which the same I also saw.

I drawed two cards and Hal drawed one,
And Yellow Dog he drawed three,

And I knowed that Hal had “ filled his haul ”
By the wink he wunk at me.

Then the fun begun and the Injun “ bucked,"
And I saw Missouri laugh '

He knowed, whoever won the “ of,"
That we all was “ half and hal .”

When all the “ rocks " which the party had
Had been ut up on the board,

And all the xin’s about the camp,
And even the stock we rode,

I called for a “ sight.” throwed down my hand,
When, as sure as I’m alive,

Baltimore Hal he hilt four ones,
While the Yellow Dog he hilt five!

Stranger, of course, we was sur i'ised,
But the rules of the game dec are
That “ whenever the red-skin cheats the white
He must ‘ climb the golden stair.’ ”
And there he was a wicked Injun,
For he tried to “ raise a gale ”
By “ropin’ ” us innocent cowboys;
So we “ tuck him off the trail. ’

’Wa down on the South Canadian,
W ere the water wildly sweeps.
Where the osier sighs to the sage bush,
The Wichita Yel ow Dog sleeps.
Which is why I says of the Injun,
Who hasn‘t civilized ways,
For to tackle a cowboy at poker
He must have a “ poker craze.”
~Memph2’s Appeal.

 

:0:

THE VOICE OF THE PINES.

 

 

BY WILLIAM RIG-GS.

 

Did I hear the pi..e trees growing,
As I stood on the hill to-day?

Did I list to their life-blood flowing,
And the sweep of their pulse at play?

’Twas a sound like the quiet creeping
Of waves up a silent strand,

With their tremnlous flu ers sweeping
The cords of the peace ul land;

Or like to the measured breaking
Of the spent sea‘s whitened crest

On the bare gray bowlders, making
The music of utter rest.

Did I hear the pine trees growing,
As I stood on the hill to—da ?
Did I list to their life-blood owing
And the sweep of their pulse at play?

Had some sea-bird, landward flying,
Swept o‘er them and whispered low

Of the seas in earth’s hollows 1 ing,
And their ceaseless ebb and ow?

Or doth Nature, like man, inherit
Some glimpse of those other years

When the heart of the brooding Spirit
Beat true with the rhythmic spheres;

And ever—when the winds are sleeping
In the haunts where they find their rest—
Like a heart o'er some memory weeping,
Unburden its mighty breast?

Did I hear the pine trees growing,
As I stood on the hill to-day?

Did I list to their life blood flowing
And the sweep of their pulse at play?

Or was it the mystery deeper

Than the soundings of thought can reach
Which Earth, its appointed keeper,

Strives ever our souls to teach—-

The scheme of His operations
Whose impetus, out of sleep,
Called to being the infant nations
And the skies, and the restless deep?

Did I hear the pine trees growing,
As I stood on the hill to-day?
Did I list to their life-blood flowing
And the sweep of their pulse at play?

Did I hear in the silent )auses
The, blood of Earth‘s ife allow—
The germ of those distant causes
Which it may be the angels know?

Or was it the pine trees waking
From out of their Winter's sleep.
And ihc bounds of that limit breaking
Which in fancy the trees must keep:
In the hush of the noontide drinking
Their fill of the sunshine‘s flood,
And awhile of His bounty thinking
Who hath made them and all things good?
Did I hear the pine trees growing,
As I stood on the hill to—day?
Did I list to their life-blood flowing,
And the sweep of their pulse at play?
_ ——11’o.\‘(0n Transcript.

 

 

 

 

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PLQCPWE‘LH: v.
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Errol 

Publishan every Monday mom ing at nine o‘clork.

 

NEW YORK, JUNE 2, 1883.

 

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BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,

98 WILLuM Sr, NEW YORK.

 

 

Take Notice.

Serials appearing in this IVEEKLY will not
be republished in Library or book form. Back
numbers can be supplied by all Ne wsdealers, or
sent by mail, prepaid, from the publishers.

 

 

Capt. Frederick Whittaker’s

New Workingmon’s Life Romance!

STARTS IN NO. 31.

Norman Case, Printer;

From the Form to the Forum.

 

Like its predecessors, “ John Armstrong,
Mechanic,” and “ Jasper Ray, Journeyman Car-
penter,” this new serial is a. powerful and ad—
mirable presentment of the aspiring working-
man’s career.

The particular story is that of a printer, but
it touches all who have to work out their own
destiny—hands, and brains, and integrity being
their only “capital.”

The moral or lesson of such a life, however,
in this fine production, is all secondary in the
author’s purpose to the abiding and peculiar in-
terest of the young printer‘s love romance—in
which every reader will be enchanted.

We bespeak for it a warm welcome and a
wide reading.

“

The True Record.

 

IN this issue is given the second paper of the
series of “Western Desperadoes,” written by
Frank Triplett Of the St. Louis press, from
carefully collected and authentic data. The
characters treated—whose names have been
made conspicuous in the West, by their auda
cious acts and adventures—will embrace:—
Charlie Pitts; Cole Younger; John Younger;
Frank James; Bill Chadwell; the Miller Boys:
etc., etc.

This is, we believe, the first attempt to trace
the trail of these loagued outlaws, and the read-
or will be surprised at the minuteness of the
record which the author makes. The object is
not to make a sensational story but to give the
facts in the culprit career, whose end is misery,
infamy and death.

The Wide Awake Papers.

Are You One?

THERE are certain young men that I am in
love with. You may not have suspected it,
but it is a fact. I on y wish there were more.
As it is, I do not have to divide my affections
into very small parcels, the oung men are so
few; the more is the pity! would be willing
to be in love with a whole continent of young
men, but so few of them are capable of inspir—
ing a “grand passion.” Most of them are—to
say the least unkind thing possible—so ordi-
nar l

I§will tell you of one who is not ordinary.
He is not handsome, and while he is always well
dressed, he is never so dressed that you think of
his clothes at all; and that is the perfection of
art in dress—especially with a man. He is not

 

 

“dude.” He is not a society man, though he
has a large circle of social friends, neither is he
arecluse. He does not dance, nor boast any
merely fashionable accomplishments, yet he is
a bright star in any social gathering. He likes
amusements and often indulges himself in them,
but does not look upon mere amusement as a
matter of any importance. At college he did
not lead his class, but he is smarter than most
or any of his mates. Before he had been out of

tion, perseverance, profound study, and intense
will-power to back him, he had earned an ex- i
sellent reputation as a lawyer and was making
more money a year in his profession than hun-
dreds of old men in the same profession have ever
made. And this in a city where there are
thousands of lawyers. Besides this he was
known throughout his State as a political
speaker of so much brilliancy that in a single f
political district, during the last Presidential
campai
to spea every night for one week in that dis—
trict alone. And during that campaign he
made speech after speech, upon the same plat~

was knotty but nice, but the wind rose when it
should have laid down that night, and the ves-
sel was extra pitched. When I laid down I
saw that the steward hadn’t fixed my bunk t
right because I found my head was too high I
sometimes and then my feet too high. The
bunk wasn’t straight.
thought I was badly bunkoed; then I laid on
the floor, thinking that was more steady, but it
didn’t seem to be.
down in the cellar of the vessel, and wondered
why they did not build ships with a good
strong granite foundation so they would be
solid against the rolling of the sea, and to keep d
a fop, he is not “ too too English,” he is not a it from sinking in case of disaster.

the next day, for there was a dreadful storm;
the captain said it was an imported one from
the Equator, and I had frequently to hold mv
breath for fear it would get away from me. I
wore my life-preserver all day, though they
tried to calm me down and let on as if they
were not scared to death themselves, yet I
know they
wheel if it was not possible to hold the vessel
college five years, without anything but educa— level.

down?” I asked of the second mate.
water.
amount to much anyway, for all the passengers’
names are registered at the port and their

, he was offered an astonishing sum sinking?”

They are very foolish to go
they don’t get back in time to amount to any-

tions with young ladies, he found time only
for hard study. Before he was examined for
admission to the bar, he had acquired no little
distinction as a brilliant and profound student.
His success when he began the practice of law
was immediate and unvaryin : but his .devo-
tion to study did not cease. e gave himself
more rest, but not much, and is still a patient
and persevering student, counting the small
things of life—mere amusement and socml suc-
cesses—as naught com pared to his determination
to make a fortune and a name for himself.
There is a young man to love! I know a. few
more such—only a few—young men who are
full of ambitions, and hope, and energy, and
who are making successes of life. Are you one?
To be sure all young men cannot gain success
in a day. Some may wait until middle age for
it: some may be Old men before they grasp the
prize they are striving after. But it is the per-
severing, the never-giving-up, which makes
them noble and worthy of all admiration. And
so few of the young men of to—day—compara-
tively speaking, Of course—seem to have any
ambition, any will to deny themselves pleasures
and endure trials for the sake of obtaining some
COVeted position in life, any perseverance, any
patience. It makes one despise them to see them
so contented to live their lives as pleasurany
and easily as possible, or to hear them talk of
life as “ a failure.” A failure, indeed! If it is
a failure, who makes it so? Just themselves!
No one else is to blame for its being a failure! I
would rather see a young man full of all sorts
of ambitions, however impossible of attainment
they maybe, than to see him dev0id of ambi-
tion. In working to attain even the unattain-
able he does more to develop the world, aid his
fellow-man, and make life worth the livin ,
than the young man who is contented to live a 1
his life in seeing how little work he can do, and
how much of a good time he can have.
I repeat that I wish I knew of more young
men to be in love with—young men who are
full of perseverance, patience, energy, dogged
resolve, and high desires. Young men who are
full of lofty enthusiams and as lofty persistence
in seeking to attain them. Young men who
are resolved to be something, and to do some-
thing, that shall count as a rational success
when attained, and who will never admit the
word defeat—other than as a synonym Of death
—into their vocabulary. Such men are men
who shame the modern namby-pambgi youths,

both rich and poor, that flood our lan .
BELLE BRIGHT.

 

The Owl Papers.

Crossing the Atlantic.

AT this time a great many people are crossing
the Atlantic, either in ships or in imagination,
which is cheaper even than steerage assage,
and less dangerous. I remember my rst trip
over as well as if it was only thirty years ago.
When I went aboard I was asked if I would
take a cabin. I said no; that I had always
lived in a brick house and couldn’t think of it.
They said all the brick houses aboard were
taken, and wanted to know what kind of a
berth I wanted. I said a berth at forty dollars
a week and found, would suit me, but I was
finally stowed away in a room so small I had to
pull my boots otf to get in, and then had to go
out whenever I turned over; and that room they
called a first‘ cabin.
The track was very wet, and I was much
alarmed, and begged the captain to keep as
close to shore on the voyage as possible, as I
wasn’t much of a swimmer.
The second day out land was very dear and
scarce; indeed, there wasn’t any in the market
and when the captain said that the land behin
us was just as far away as the land under us I
sighed for my native land—and thought if I
ever went over again I would drive over.
I cautioned the steersman to be sure and keep
a. good lookout and not run against land, and
asked the sur eon if he thought the steerage
was all right, for I felt worried, having seen so
many ill-looking men in it, and not to be trusted
with directing the course of the ship.

One feels entirely at sea when at sea; there is
a sense of water on the brain, there is so much
water in the eyes, so to speak. You look out and 1
see five or six miles depth of dew all around
you. Your soul wants to take wings and fly s
away—especially if you are sea—sick, and desire
to see if dying will improve it. You long to see
even the dirt under your finger-nails—anything
that looks like earth.
I asked the first mate if, when we got up to
the top of that ridge ahead, we could see Eu-
rope. He said he thought we might, but it was
an awful, awful long distance away; and really
I was glad of it, for I had fears that, if we
ever got up on top of that verge, we might fall
Off

 

 

The only voyage I had ever made before was
in a canal-boat on the Erie Canal, and then I
had no peace of mind, but now I longed to see
this ship anchored to the mules. I felt away
from home so. I got so sick of water that I

. I eked out. There was the Indian ri ht onto
thought  would never haVe anythmg more to mg? I left there in a hurry and made fgr a pile
‘10 with It. of rocks. Hid behind a big bowlder. Looked

The first day out we made 250 knots. That

I rolled around until I

I heartily wished I was

a

I do not know how often I said my prayers,

were. I asked the two men at the
They said they couldn’t.

t was not to hold it straight?
“Is there any danger of the ship’s going

“ Not as long as we can keep her head above
But a ship’s going down now does not
riends will know what has become of them.” ti

“ What would you advise in case the ship was if

“ Well, sensible people jump out andllook on.
own wit it, for

form with men of double and treble his age thing.”
and of wide renown. “ Did you ever go down with a vessel?” st
And to what does this young fellow owe his “ Oh, yes, often. This vessel went down in a

brilliant successes? Not to good looks, for he is
extremely homely. Not to fine physique, for
he is thin and not specially graceful. Not to
an enchanting voice or beautiful delivery, for
his enunciation is naturally indistinct and his
delivery poor; faults which he is correcting
only by constant and persistent practice in elo-
cution. Not to wealth for his father is not a
man of much means. Not to influential friends,
for he had far less help in the way of influence
than most young men. But to lofty ambition
and indomitable energy. Determined to suc- g
ceed in the profession he had chosen, and know-
ing that success in so crowded a. field de ended
entirely upon hard Work, he studied nig t and
day to so amiliarize himself with the law as to
be distinguished for his amount of legal learn-
ing. He hardly allowed himself time to eat or
sleep, as his thin cheeks and White face testi-
fied. It was study, study, study, from day-
dawn to almost day-dawn again. While other

young men found time for amusements, and loos and sit on the fence and swap news

storm last year, but the machinery was in such
good order it kept on working, and
a couple of miles ahead, all right.”

latest improved ones.
them the force of the waves would smash in the
weather-boarding on the sides.”

many things which were in the way that I was
sure it was nearly pounded soft. It was difficult

we came up 1e
“ The ship rocks a good deal.”

“Yes, it is because it has rockers to it, the
You see if it didn’t have

All that day I bumped my head against so

oing about. I could keep my feet on deck, but

mind that I would not come back
never got back, and inwardly be-

was lonesome. I longed to run across

hands, swun
the convivia ist’s legs from under him, and
walked away. The Sportive man arose, looked
after the cripple, and remarked: “ Give ten dol-
lars to the fellow that tells me how that trick
was performed.
himself out before I tackle him again. That’s
what a man gets for taking an interest in the
human family.”

I want to feel in licker.
Yes, I’m from the est.
what d’you want to say about it!" The speaker
was tall and angular.
his bootlegs, and under the broad rim of his
slouch hat were partially concealed a very red
face and a much redder nose, which other ele-
ments than those of nature had assisted to color.
He leaned his broad back against the bar in a
down-town Bowery saloon yesterda morning,
and the moisture ran off his hat a.an

feet.

Here’s ho!
what.
haven’t— Lemme see: near onto forty years
ago ugDin Michigan I trapped beaver one sea~
son.

the creeks full of ice.
down to the traps to see after the ketch. I laid
my gun on the bank and went down to the wa-
ter. Somehow or ’nuther I looked over my
shoulder and my heart came flopping right into
my mouth.
from me with his tomahawk in his hand ready
to brain me.
Give me some of the same.
across the creek and dodged behind a big tree.

over the ed e.
after me. I

and I ran like a deer across the open country to
another batch of timber, dodged around the

creek, and I’ll be blanked if there wasn’t the
buck about a yard off. Give us some more
licker, barkeeper. There, there, don’t give me
your whole shop; a pint’s enough for me at one
drink.”

watery eyes and a bulbous nose, who had taken

Dime Library romances is by some of the un—
knowing ones regarded as an impossible or im-
probable woman, what will be said of this ve-
racious exhibit of the career of “ Saint Susie ”
Raper, as given in a late issue of the Elko Inde-
Then I asked pendent?

what the hold of the vessel was for, anyway, if
counties, Nevada, who were here in 1869 and
1870, remember well the antics of Mrs. Susie
Raper, whose marvelous feats of horsemanship,
coupled with a keen appreciation of the value
of other people’s cows and calves, carriej her
through a series of adventures and escapades
that made her the special wonder and admira—

two—shilling novel, would have made their
fortunes. She got into deep water at last,
and Went the we.
of Humboldt.

grip of the preservers of the

comfortable home among the Comanches and
Apaches of New Mexico.

se uel of her brilliant, erratic career :—

formerly of Carlin, more congenial than that
of the wild tribes, she assumed pantaloons, and
united her forces with his for the invasion of
the Choctaw and Cherokee nations.
they invaded Iniian Territory at the head of a
squad of speculative emigrants intent upon the
acquisition of Uncle Sam’s fertile soil in that
region.
the trouble was to keep my body from it also. R
I made up in
that way if
rated Columbus for crossing the Atlantic and
discovering us, or letting us know that there g1
was any such a country as the Old VVOTld; nor fe
could I see the use of the proprietors making
the sea so wide, in the first place.

cently made several newspapers notorious by
the vivid recitals of their joint exploits, some
of which have been the text for lengthy tele—

ardent imagination of youthful land-pirates,
the Government finally concluded to allow
them to complete their adventures under the
supervision of the United States Marshal.

out.

on aesthetic hash.

of us in the chase, and when at last the cry 0

big for my size, too vast for m

taken me all in!
ter and skate back. It would be less dangerous

terror fur me.

rolled so much at sea.
Rubicon was nothing to it.

Alps could not compare with it.
to sea again it will be to see a coroner.
bet! SOLOMON SHINGLE.

 

Wood in Washington Territory.

moderate estimate it is calculated that this re
tity of 160,000,000,000 feet of valuable timber
The trees attain a remarkable development

hight of 250 feet. the white cedar to 100 feet

6,000 feet to 8,000 feet of cut lumber.

Wore Himself Down.

the knees, and w o walked on the stumps.
short? HOw far have you walked?”

“ None of your business.”
himself down in that way.

ride f”

and giving the convivialist an expressive look.

" Are you oing to let me pass?”
“ No, sir;
I cannot allow you to grind

The poor fellow pressed the ground with his
his body around, and knocked

I shall wait until he wears

 

What the Indian Did.

“ GIMME a little straight poison. More’n that-
There, that’ll do.
From California, and

He wore his trowsers in

formed a
ittle pool on the sawdust-covered floor at his
“ What’ll you take, boys?” he continued.
‘This is my drink. Step up right lively now.
Been ’round some? Well, some—
Seen some ’citement? Well, if I

ead of winter, snow on the ground, and

One morning I went

An Indian buck stood about a rod

Here, barkeeper, ’nuther round.
Well, I jumped

There was the Indian right
gin to see it was life or death,

rees, and jumped into the water up to my neck.
squinted over a log which was lyin’ across the

“ Well,” queried a nervous little man, with

deep interest in the tale, “what did the In-
ian do then?”
“ Oh, he killed me.”

 

A “ Character.”
IF the Calamity Jane of several of our Half-

“ The old inhabitants of Elko and Humboldt

on of the Elko press in those days, and which,
properly written up, in the form of a

of the “Loveless” lass, late
he escaped the remorseless
ace and live—
Ock in this neighborhood, an made a more
A recent private
tter from Indian Territory furnishes the

‘ Finding the company of one Capt. Payne,

Together

In that capacity the firm of Payne &
aper flourished luxuriantly for a time, and re-

aphic dispatches to this coast. That their
ats might not prove too attractive to the

little dust sweeping by on the wind—wouldn’t
have cared, even, for a little mud occasionally.
The passengers were all so cool and contented l
disliked them; they seemed to have no feelings
to speak while I was full of them, insrde and
I yearned for a change even to be in a
Western hotel without a fire-escape and to feed

How long they were in bringin the other end
of the voyage up! It seemed to ave got ahead

land was heard, I felt as happy as a landlord,
as proud as if I was collecting the rent myself.
I was so weary of the sea; it was entirely too
scope. I could
not take it all in, but how eaSily it could have
I vowed I would wait till win—

at least I fondly hoped they would discover a
shorter route before I started home again.
When I landed on terrafirma I said, “No more
I am a lubber of the land. The
sea, long may she wave so she doesn’t wave
me;” and felt so glad Of the land that I could
have lain down and rolled if I hadn’t been
Caesar crossing the

Washington cross-
ing the Delaware, or Hannibal crossing the
‘Vhen I go
You

REPORTS state that fir, pine, oak, and cedar
of unsurpassed quality, and practically unlimit-
ed in quantity, clothe the mountains, overhang
the rivers, and shad0w the plains of the Puget
Sound district in Washington Territory. On a

gion will yield the almost inconceivable quan-

both in hight and beauty. The yellow fir is
frequently found growing to the enormous

the white oak is 70 feet in hight; while ordinary-
sized specimens of the sugar pine yield from

A HALF-DRUNKEN convivialist met a poor
fellow whose le 5 had been amputated above

“Great goodness! my friend,” said the con- ful
vivialist. “ how did you wear yourself down so ’

“ But a man ought not be allowed to wear
Why don’t you

“ You attend to your own business,” the poor
fellow replied, putting his hands on the ground,

“ But I don‘t want to see you wear yourself
out. First thing you know, you’ll wear your—
self down to the back of your neck.”

feel that I am to be responsible
for your welfare.
yourself down any more.”

her jai r without his keys.

and his fiyin companion.

in Texas.”

 

f
A Famous Illustrator.

find this personal mention in Freomd’s Daily .'

the other evenin

fore the ublic seems to prove that he is even
Older.
the weekly story aper, which position, despite

tained in this city for the
is father was a successful physician.

G. White, and that the community, otherwise,

in his long career. His (productions are for the
most part unsigned, an the best engraved of
his present periodical work is to be seen in the
issues of Beadle and Adams.

“ Two other publishers of story papers depend
exclusively upon him for their weekly illustra-
tions, and a sensational weekly is also regularly
and largely indebted to his prolific pencil. The
artist in such publications in some sort enjoys a
salaried position, and that he has at times well-
nigh established a corner in them, seemingly
having a control of the market, indicates that
his pecuniar success has been very considera-
ble. He is s illed in all the departments of i1-
lustrative designs, landscape, marine and archi-
tecture, although his specialty is ‘ fi ire’ work;
and (where the ideas are furnished im) he can
make an excellent political or allegorical car—
toon, but his comic talent is slight. School-
books of post date teem with his pictures, held
to be the best of their kind. His style is one se-
cret of his continuous success among so much
com tition and rivalry. It is not only grace-

llfit peculiarly ada ted to the requirements
of a wood-engraver. oncerning these require-
ments our magazines, such as Harper’s and the
Century, are now reckless, and a new school of
artists occupies places which White and his like
were once judged solely able to fill.

“ His st le, indeed, comprehends nearly all of
his artistic ability, but it means, of course,
knowledge of Chiaroscuro and Of composition.
It is founded like that of most illustrators of
twenty ears ago, upon the drawings of Sir
John Gi bert, 0 which, to a large extent, be
has been merely a copyist. Long practice has
given him no mere superficial acquaintance
with many varieties of form and effect, but it is
rather as an adaptater of other men’s ideas and
knowledge, than as an investigator for himself
of the truths in nature, that he has made his
mark. He makes no secret of his use of ‘ ma-
terial,’ and has, indeed, adopted the only course
possible for a general illustrator. Oniniscience
is not a gift even to the greatest genius. His
workshop in John street is a well arranged pic-
torial library with such an index that he can, at
a moment’s notice. place before his eyes any
costume, animal, plant, or other form.

“It has been shown that the demands upon
him at times must be too great for his single ef-
forts. There are always in his studio two or
three fellow-workers, who can be depended
upon for needed assistance. Of these, the long-
est with him is Paul Dixon, whose specialt is
landscape, wherein he is a talented artist. il—
liam VVaud and Sol Eytinge, with his brother,
have in the past enjoyed the benefits of the
carefully assorted ‘ material ’ the room contains.
Despite the business activity ever to be seen
there, a rude welcome is always accorded a
lounger, and jest and talk find their place in
the midst of difficult work. A man of the
world even more than of the studio is George
G. White, an independent thinker and actor in
the various relations of life. A rough and
ready frankness characterizes his manners and
speech. ‘Sharp’s the word’ for most of his

qualities. ”
h

’

3

 

Focused Facts.

 

AN English company have bought 90,000 acres
of iron lands in East Tennessee, and will erect
furnaces at once, giving employment to 300 men.

hm thousand bushels of corn are used daily
in the manufacture of glucose in the United
States. It i< chiefly used to adulterate sugar,
candies, sirup and beer.

THE coal depOsits of Colorado are practically
inexhaustible, and they are to be found in al-
most every portion of the State. Two millions
of tons were mined last year.

THE stock inspector of New South Wales is
authority for the statement that the pest of
rabbits has already cost the colony of Victoria
between $20,000,000 and $25,000,000, and that it
is still spreading.

IT is only rich Western towns that can afford
it. There is a female barber at Haley, in
Idaho Territoryxwho is earning from $40 to $60
a day. She char es four hits for a shave, while
the male tonsoria artists are happy to get two
bits for their work.

SOUTHERN New Mexico is especially adapted
to sheep~raising. and the business is grewing
with great rapidity. According to the census
of 1880 there were then 10,000,000 sheep in the
country, and it is estimated that this number
has since increased to 30,000,000. Last year
over 30,000,000 pounds of wool were shipped
from the territory. The profits of the busmess
are enormous.

ONE of the latest Munchausen tales from the
West is that a company of men, all of whom
are six feet or over in hight, have founded a
town in Montana, which they have named
Giantville. Lots in this town will be sold only
to men six feet rr more in hight, who have-
wives five feet and eight inches at least in stat-
ure. The hope of the projectors is to found a
community of people all of whom shall be
physically large, and possibly gigantic.

A CORRESPONDENT of the Boston Post, writ-
ing about the remnants of Indian tribes survi-
ving in Massachusetts, says: “It is believed
by those who have an opportunity to know,
that no Indian of pure aboriginal blood is now
a resident in the commonwealth, they having
from time to time intermarried with the whites
and those of African descent. Counting all
those who have Indian blood in their veins in
the State, in the vestiges of tribes remaining,
there are to-day not far from 1,000 persons, em-
braced in 225 families, and it must be borne in
mind that the numbers contained in these tribes
have been decreasing for over 200 years. It is
a very significant fact that no tribe now exist-
ing is increasing numerically in the common—
wealth.”

A DOCTOR HAMILTON, of Topeka, in Kansas,
has discovered what the Journal of that town
pronounces “the greatest living curiosity of
the age,” and the writer adds: “Those who
have examined testify that it beats anything
they ever saw. The curiosity is in shape of a
natural human being, a colored boy, eighteen
years of age, who was born of slave parents
near Grenada, on the Mississippi river, in the
State of Mississi pi. From the shoulders down
his skin is just 1' e that of an alligator, is thick-
ly covered with black scales, and the whole is
as pliable, though thick and tough, as the hide
on one of these animals. In the summer-time
these scales drop off, leaving an indenture in
the skin where new ones form and grow on
again. His name is Moses Eskridge, and he
came here during the exodus times with his

 

 

 

social intercourse, and vacations, and flirta-

 

 

 

  

with the neighbors.

I longed to see a

ISusie’s good genius again ruled, and, leavingr

camp early on a March morning, she took an
excursion on a raft down Red river, leaving her
friend] captain with a paper of tobacco and

l; About two months
ago peace was declared between the Govern-
ment, the Choctaws, and the aforesaid emi-
grants, but the armistice did not include Payne
We learn that the
willful lady is now cultivating a flower-garden

OF the artist George G. White—who for years
has catered for our various publications—we

“ Coming from Harrigan and Hart’s Theater
_ was a fashionably attired
i gentleman of medium stature and military as-
pect, whose bright, black eyes and nervous, en-
ergetic walk made it difficult for me to credit
that he must have reached his fiftieth year—
yet the length of time his works have been be-

e is the illustrator par excellence of

all changes of fas ion in the art, he has main-
ast twenty-five
years. He came here from Philadelphia, where

His name
is well known to the publishing world as George

is little learned concerning him is due to the
fact that he has sought money rather than fame

Correspondflrts’ Column.

[This column is open to all correspondents. In-
quiries answered as fully and as promptly as cir.
cumstances will permit. Contributions not entered
as “declined” may be considered accepted. NO
MSS. returned unless stamps are inclosed]

Declined: “A Square Deal;" “Number One;"
"D naniite Dom” ‘A Fight. for Bi ht;" “Ca tain
Moly;" “Home Eycs;” “Elhert‘s ll inx;” “ nder
Surveillance-2," “A Night of It;” "The Luck 0' AI-
bany;“ “Under No Flag;” ~‘ A Happ 'Pair;” “Miss,
Not Mrs.;” “Joe‘s Big Break:” "'l‘yoo Much of a
Good Thing;" “The Third in Waiting.“

Iowan. We know nothing of the “ Institute."

HAP N. Write to Wanamaker, Philadelphia. He
will fill your order.

F. H. C. The novels named are not “ ended." See
annouDCed advance list, in last issue.

JOHN G. C. Write to Commissioner of Pensions.
He will send you all necessary forms.

J. J. L. Wild Bill was older than Texeis Jack.—
Jacksonville, lll., had a population in 1880 of 10,928.

SISSY. You are “of age" at thnty-one—not at
eighteen. and cannot be free from the guardianship
until you are of age.

Inez. John Howard Payne died in Tunis, April
9th, 1852. He was not an “exile ” in any other sense
than as U. S. consul for Tunis.

Jnmrs. A lease is a matter of agreement or con-
tract, and ejectment or dispossession can take lace
in any time after non-fulfillment Of terms 0 the
ease.

TENTERDEN. The list of perfectly hardy monthly
roses, of all colors is now so large there is no need to
resci‘t to the half-hardy sorts. Onlya few of the
so-callid ever-blooming roses are hardy, but the
hybrid erpetuals are so in this climate. and a con-
siderab 6 list Of these latter are true per tual
bloomers, so you can secure just what on esire.
The largest catalogue or list we know 0 is that of
the Dingee and Canard 00., West Chester, Pa.

0 CAR. Buy the wedding-rm when you choose:
but the lady should not think 0 wearing it until it is
put upon her hand at the wedding ceremon .-—It was
rude for the girl to introduce you and your rothed
as husband and wife. There is no wit in such jokes.
They are rude and wro .—The bride’s parents
should issue the cards an give the sup er. The
bride has the choice of clergyinan.—-Incose your
fee in a small envelope and give it to your “best
man,” or chief usher, to give to the clergyman.

CLERK. Your friends ma say what they like in
defense of paper collars andv cufi‘s but they cannot
alter facts; and the facts are these: Paper collars
are collars which retend to be linen but arenot;
and no one ever mistakes them for linen; and they
are cheap vulgar Shams. Respectable people would
prefer to wear a plain flannel shirt to wearing a
linen shirt and pieces of paper about their throats
and wrists—Do not be persuaded into adopting any
such vulgarity of dress as long as you can afford
linen collars and cuffs.

ETHEL C. To decline the invitation is a common-
place proceeding Simply say on card or note sheet
that you are very sorry not to be able to accept the
kind invitation for the commencement exercises,
but circumstances will render it impossible for you
to be present (or to accompany him) on the occa-
sion.—Goldsmith‘s "Traveler " is issued in so many
editions you ought to have no difficulty in obtaining
it. The “life ” de icted there is one of aimless vag-
abondage. Macmi an & Co., 112 Fourth avenue, pub-
lish a twenty-cent edition.

Horse OWNER. The green which gathers upon
brick walls and paves may be removed by pouring
upon it boiling water (not greasy) in which any
vegetables have been cooked. Repeat this treat-
ment for a few da 's, and the green will disappear.
You can then re den your bricks with this wash:
Melt one ounce of glue in one gallon of water; while
this is hot add a lump of alum the size a hen‘s egg
half a pound of Venetian red, and one pound 0
Spanish brown. Try it; if too light add more red
and brown; or if too dark, add more water.

B. B. Do not let any one re resent your case to
the young lady. Write her an onest, manly letter,
saying that you love her and wish to marry her.
State that if she gives you any hope that she can re-
ciprocate your love and will become your wife you
w 11 immediately ask her hand of her parents. ven
if she requeS on do not discuss the matter with a
third party.— ise ‘our hat of! your head (do not
merely touch it) w en you how to a lady. Also,
raise your hat off your head when you offer any
lady (even a. stranger) the all htest civility, such as
givmg her a Seat. opening a oor for her, etc.

BIRD. The nightingale is not an American bird,
but an Euro an one. In the summer they are
found over t e greater part of Europe, even in

 

 

Sweden and Russia; but in winter the ' migrate to .

Northern Africa. They do not sing at seasons of
the year, but begin to sing when mated and cease
singing in the fall. Their note then is a single, low
croaking sound. They sing best in earl summer.
The are shy, and are not easily capture , and can-
not e taught to improve their singing. Thou hso
long famed for their warblinFs, they are realfy no
better singers than the wood- ark, the black—capped
warbler, or the American mocking—bird.

LOVER. You should tell your own and the youn
lady’s parents of the engagement, immediately' bu
there is no necessity for making it public unt' the
lady is out of school. It would be better taste for
her not to wear an engagement-ring until she has
graduated. Itis very nice Of you to take such an
interest in her college career, and on should not be
too exacting of her as acorrespon ent. If she gives
too much thought and time to you. she will be apt
to fail in her studies or in health. Of low-making
and hard study. one must give lace to the other;
or, in event of her attempting to faithful to both,
she may find her strengt unequal to the strain.

Mas. TESSIE L. It is just as well to sow the seeds
of all the ordinary annuals, for they will make such
vigorous g§owth as to bear flowers all the summer
and fall. ot-house plants when put out in the open
ground are usuall much set back by the cold nights
and cool days an do not do as ood work in pro-
ducing flowers as the seed-sown p ants. Here is the
list for you to sow: asters, balsam, petunia, phlox,
larkspur, mignonette, amaranthus (several varie-
ties), antirrhinum, candytuft, celosia. tropmolum,
salvia, stock dianthus, scabiosa, poppy, mar-igold,

ansy, portu acca, etc., etc. Your geraniums, ver-

nas, carnations, fuchsias, heliotrope, Chinese
primrose, be onias, etc., it is better to urchase at
once of the p ant-growers—We know 0 no method
to force the annuals to a quick growth but to 've
good soil and necessary moisture-See Vick’s ata-
ogue for eve necessary direction for flower-cul-
ture. As to t e rose garden, see what is said to
“Tenterden ” above—If your soil is clay have it
turned over three or four times—each time workin
in sand, loam and perfectly rotted manure. E
flower-garden soil must no! incrust or grow hard, as
clay will if not mixed well with loam, manure and
sand or good ashes.—-A s tof ground 25x60 feet is
enough for a very fine isplay of all the varieties
above named.

“ AGREE AND DISAGREE. ” You are both wrong and
both right, to a certain degree. A woman has to
have food to eat, clothes to wear, and a roof to shel-
ter her. and every one with an atom of common-
sense will see that she has the same right as a man
to earn these for herself in any kind of honest work
that she can find to do. Because she is industrious
instead of idle, intelligent instead of ignorant, lives
urgon her own earnin instead of upon some one’s
e e, makes her all t e more a person worthy your
respect. It is no excuse for any man to say, “I
will not do this or that toward a woman because she
earns money like me and is only my equal.” Before
she became your equal then. according to your the-
ory, she was your inferior; and would you be more
polite to an inferior than to an equal? It matters
not what a woman does thinks, or is. that man is
rude. and no gentleman, who remains seated while a.
woman in his presence stands. A true gentleman is
unswervigg, always, in courtesy to woman, in
deferenti treatment of them, in consideration of
their comfort. If you would be ashamed to remain
seated in the presence of a lady who knows you, you
ought to be equally ashamed to remain seated in the
gergsence of a lady who is a strangerto you—‘ust

ause she is a. woman and you a man. What
others do, does not excuse rudeness in you.

J. J. Cammus says:—“Will you explain to me
who the Prince Napoleon is whom we hear so much
about in connection with France? Is he a real
prince and is he really of royal blood?"—He is a
nephew of Napoleon Bonaparte, first Emperor of the
French, and own cousin to Louis Na leon, the last
Emperor of the French. and, since t e death of the
young French prince in Zululand, he is the heir to the

retensions o the Bonapartes to the throne of

nce. He is a real rince, because his father was
King of Wmhalla. one of the Bonapartes were
of royal bl save inasmuch they married women
of royal families. The first Napoleon was but a
cor and obscure oung army-officer. When he
ad won for himse _the place of Emperor of France,
he bestowed upon his four brothers, Joseph Lucien,
Louis, and Jerome, the positions of Kin of Naples
and Spain, PriIiCe of Canino, Kinglof olland, and
King of West balls. The last mperor of the
French, Louis *apoleon Bonalparte, was the son of
Louis Bonaparte, King of H01 and; and now of the
family, only the present Prince Napoleon, son of
Jerome Bonaparte, King of West halia, survives to
represent their claims. His rea name is Prince
Napoleon Joseph Charles Paul Bonaparte; but he
has assumed Within the last few years his father’s
name and now calls himself Prince Jerome Napo-

 

father and step-mother.”

leon, etc.

 

 

 

 

 

  
 
  
   

  
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
   
    
    
  
  
  
  
    
 
 
  
   
    
   
 
    
      
 
    
   
   
 
  
  
   
  
  
   
    
   
 
   
   
 
   
   
    
    
  
 
  
 
   
  
    
  
  
     
  
   
    
  
    
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
  
   
 
   
 
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
    
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
   
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
  
   
    
    
   
    
  
   
  
    
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
  
 
    
    
  
  
  
 
 
  
    
    
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
   

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Fireside Ballads.

THE FAITHFUL DOG.

BY H. H. JOHNSON.

I know he’s not a handsome cur, not much inclined
to play,

But then, you know, we’ve
must have his day, . _

And Tiger, there, has had his time when he was

on ands ry— _

No fegr oflgny migchief done when he was standin'
by.

We named him Tiger when he wasn’t nothin’ but 3

often heard each dog

11 3
But ygtfd milder-mannered dog I’ve never seen grow

11 , ,

The kiiidest dog to children—why, he wouldnt
harm a chick; ,

But, let a tramp come prowlin’ ‘round, he 11 snatch
’em mighty quick!

He used to tag my children ’round from mormn’ un-
til night; _

Where’er you’d find the young ones, Tige was sure
to be in sight,

And when their little legs grew weak, and they lay
down to sleep, . .

Old Tige would lie down by their Side, and closest
watch would keep.

If I should undertake to tell all that old dog has
done, _

You'd think it was the biggest yarn that man had
ever spun; .

But I will tell a few brave acts I've seen old Tiger

do,
And you can ask the neighbors here, they’ll tell you
it is true.

I used to ’tend the grist-mill there, down just below
the hill;—- . ‘

Yes, many a day and night I’ve spent a-runmn that
old mill; .

The pond is 'ust behind the knoll; its banks are
high and1 steep,

And when a smart spring freshet comes, the water
there is deep.

It’s nigh on seven years ago-I won’t forget the
a .—
The children went, as usual, out by the pond to

la , _
When? all at once, I heard a shriek that almost
stopped my breathz— '
I knew hat shriek meant danger, and maybe it
might mean death! '

I dropped the bag I’d just picked up, and rushed
out through the door, ‘

And reached the bank beside the pond in half a
minute more! _

I quickly looked the children o’er to see if all were

there, . ,
For, though I’d four boys and one girl, I hadn t none

to spare.

I didn’t find m youngest boy; the rest seemed
scared to eath, .

And, lookin’ in the pond I saw a Sight that took my

breath! _ . .
For there. half-way across the pond, and smkin‘
slowly down,
I saw my darling youngest boy, and knew that he
must drown!

I tried to move, but couldn’t stir, I felt so faint and

weak; _ .

I tried to call for help, but not a smgie word could
speak: _

Just then Tige came a~rushin' by, as if the dog was
wild, .

And, plun in’ in the water, he struck out straight
for tie child!

He grabbed the little fellow by the woolen frock he

wore

And brought him, almost drownded, but alive, back
to the shore:

And when I knew that he had saved from death my
darling boy,

I threw in arms ’round that dog‘s neck, and then I
crie for joy.

I never shall forget, I think—I know not very sopn—

The time our house burned down; ’twas in a pitch-
dark night in June. .

We all were fast asleep. and never dreamin' death
was nigh,

Until our neighbors wakod us up with that blood-
curdling cry—

Of “ Fire! Fire!“ How it rung out in the dismal
ni ht!
We wokge to find our dear old home all in a blaze of
i t,
And hegrd the flames a-cracklin’ in the rafters over-

head,
And felt the heat a-scorchin' us as we lay there in
bed!

We hadn’t time to save a thing—not even time to

ress,

And didn't think much how we looked, and cared,
I know, still less;

But each one rabbed a child and told the rest to
run for li e! .

The smoke was gittin’ then so thick could cut it with
a knife!

We got out somehow in the yard where we could
breathe the air, .

And then I took a quick look ’round to see if all
were there;

I missed my curly-headed girl, and then I heard a
scream!

I’ve heard it in my sleep since then when in a night-
mare dream.

I quickly looked toward the house! Oh, God! I al-
most fell! I .

For there, 'ust like an angel standin’ in the flames
of he i,

I saw my curly-headed girl surrounded by the .fire!

I started to rush back again to save her or die by
her!

I heard another scream, and then my wife fell down
in fright!

She'd fainted dead away, poor thing; she couldn‘t
bear the sight!

The neighbors held me back by force. Oh, God! It
made me wild!

They said I’d only lose my life, but couldn‘t save
the child!

Just then I heard a loud, wild bark, and Tige went
rushiizf,r bv .
And plunge into the burmn’ house; he made the

cinders fly! _
In half a_ minute, back he came, a-draggin’ my dear

c i ,
And then, such shouts you never heard! The peo-
ple all seemed wild!

Each man and woman kissed that dog as if he had
a soul!

And I looked on while
cheeks did roll.

He saved my girl, but he and she both had the clos-
est shave;

The fire gave them marks that night they’ll carry to
their grave!

What? Sell that dog? Well I guess not while I have

ot my life, _
And iEye want to make her mad, just ask it of my

tears of joy down both my

WI e.
011, no; if I should get so poor I had but one small
crus v,
Old Tige should have the most of that, and I‘d starve
I must!

I‘ll keep that do
I‘ll raise a mar

until he dies, and after he is dead
1e monument above his brave old

head;

And on it I will have inscribed upon a pretty
scroll:—

“Here lies {1w noblest brute that ever God denied a
soul!”

The Telegraph Detective;
THE DYNAMITE LEAGUE.

BY GEORGE HENRY MORSE.

CHAPTER IX.
A GHABTLY SURPRISE.

“ To the presence of the murdered banker!”
Marvin had said, as he hurried from the room
containing Dorsett and his prisoner, and-the
words gave the clew to his newly-conceived
plan. _ I _ '

He knew not posttively if Hiram Arnold
was dead, but he had seen his face in the ghastly
glare of the pistol explosion, and familiarity
with such scenes had encouraged the belief that
the expression on that aged face was the death-
gleam of an expiring soul.

His feet bore no laggard weight of indolence
or indecision as he traversed the streets. He
made but one stop. At a large pawn-shop, with
its glittering sign, he paused, ascending the re-
tired stairway and in a few minutes appeared
in the store below, with the proprietor _rudely
awakened from his slumbers, but anxxous to

 

 

 

 

please a customer who came from the police
whose favors he most earnest] coveted.

Ten minutes later, complete y disguised as to
hirsute appearance, Willis Marvin reappeared
on~ the street, a large, square package under his
arm.

“ It is fortunate that Isaacs had such an ap-
paratus as I desire to use,” he reflected. “It
saves the time and trouble of a protracted
search.”

He hailed a carriage driving b and ordered
the man to convey him to the Galaxy restau-
rant. Once there he ascended the stairs at quick
bounds as he alighted, leavin his package in
the carriage. As he reached t e corridor where

the room was located, he started forward to in- :

tercept a man who, at his approach, had arisen
from a kneeling posture near the door of the
room occupied by Dorsett and his prisoner.

The man was too quick for him, however, for
he hastened to the window at the end of the
hall and swung himself out to the roof of an ad
joining structure with the rapidity of a squirrel.

“ A spy,” murmured Marvin, with knit brows,
“ but we must not delay to follow him.”

Dorsett arose and regarded him curiously as
he burst unceremoniously into his presence.

“ Come !” ordered Marvin; “ we will go. You
did not know me?”

“ No, your disguise is perfect.” ,

Dorsett led Barnes down the stairs into the
carriage, and Marvin, with a low order to the
driver of the vehicle, joined them.

He was silent and thoughtful, evidently im-
patient to reach his projected destination. Once
as they whirled by the building, where he had
seen the mysterious stranger disa ar, he
glanced up at the place quickly. is cheek
blanched as he saw, standing in the doorway,
an oflicer, and evidences of an unusual commo-
tion about the place, but he did not order astop,
making his anxiety regarding the stranger—if
he really was his father-subservient to his
newly-formed plan of action through which he
hoped to trace the real murderer of the banker
—the man with the hand of fire.

The carriage came to a stop under the trees
lining the walk in front of the gloomy mansion
of the murdered man. A little knot of men
stood at the iron gateway conversing in low
tones, and at the open doorway two men whom
he recognized as detectives, were compa' ing
notes in a confidential manner.

He glanced at the prisoner, whose face was
pale and startled, his eyes gleaming restlessly,
but he vailed their expression to sullen uncon-
cern as he saw that he was observed.

The detective leaned over to Dorsett.

/»/
/ I
/

/

 

“ I will take the risk of what I do.

to et the body into this chair.”

hey obeyed him mutely but wonderingly.
They lifted the dead banker to the chair,
wheeled it to the desk, and stared in the wildest
amazement at Marvin as they saw him arrange
the body in a position as natural as though the
victim of the murder were still in life.

He turned to the men, finally.

“ What I have done,” he said, impressively,
“has been done to attempt to secure the con»
fession of one of the accomplices of the real
murderer. Will one of you go to the carriage
outside and bring me the package it contains?"

Both men started to obey his request. They
returned in a few moments and placed the
heavy package they bore on the desk.

The intensest curiosity was in their startled
eyes as they saw Marvin rapidly tear the out«
Side paper from this package. The lished
ebony box which met their view otfere no so—
lution of his mysterious proceedings, but as he
threw back the cover each gave utterance to a
little cry of surprise.

“You don’t mean—” began one of the men,
excitedly.

“ To galvanize the body of the murdered man
——yes,” responded Marvin, quietly.

The box contained a fine electrical apparatus.
It was an expensive scientific relic, doubtlessly
pledged by some impoverished student, and an-
swered the projected purpose of the detective
exactly. He removed it to one corner of the
room, drew a fire-screen in front of it, adjusted
the wires, examined the dynamo—galvanic jars,
and then tested it, and drawing the wires under
the screen applied them to the neck and elbows
of the dead man.

“ It is a ghastly and unpleasant experiment,”
he said as he noticed the mute horror in the
faces of his companions, “ but the end justifies
the means. One of you take his place behind

onder screen; answer all questions asked in a
ow voice, and when the signal is given start
the current of electricity. You,” indicating
the other, “ seat yourself opposite the dead man
with pencil and pa er as if taking notes. Re-
tain an attitude an expression of face as though
listening to his words.”

He saw the men take up their positions, and
then repaired to the carriage. He made a ges—
tureto Dorsett, and the latter alighted with his
prisoner. He transferred his charge to Marvin
at a word, and the trio entered the gloomy
structure.

Marvin paused at the doorway and drew Dor-
sett close to him.

Rapidly, in a low whisper, be conveyed to

Help me

 

_,...- .u

 

wraith of his murdered victim broke from the
outlaw’s lips as he fell back, startled and white.

“Listen,” murmured Marvin, as he held his
prisoner in a firm grasp.

The manacled hands trembled like an aspen;
the lips of the prisoner were set in an expres-
sion of horrified interest.

“ And you could identify the men who at-
tacked you?” spoke the voice of Dorsett.

The fascinated eyes of the prisoner saw the
man writing at the table—saw the ghastly form
of the banker—saw, too, that the hands were
moving and the muscles of his face apparently
expressing the motions of speech.

“ Yes,” was the reply, apparently from the
colorless lips.

Marvin drew his prisoner across the threshold.
The horrible mockery of death had accomplished
his work, for the outlaw leaned heavily on his
arm, trembling violently.

“ Speak!” cried the Telegraph Detective, “ to
save yourself :—Who is ‘the captain,’ who fired
the shot at yonder man?”

The white lips of Barnes opened, his trembling
hands clasped the steel chain, his eyes distended
with a horrible desperation, as he replied, in a
terrified tone:

“ I did not do the deed; it was—”

The sentence never ended. A flash at the
window, a. deafening report, a long shriek of
pain and agony from the manacled outlaw and

e fell back to the floor, writhing in mortal .

agony a moment and then lay still and rigid
in the embrace of death. '

Startled, stunned, the occupants of the apart-
ment moved not at the terrible culmination of
the excitinglscene before them. Only Marvin,
recovering is presence of mind, traced in the
sudden death of Barnes a new venture of the
dreaded Lea e which followed friend and foe
so persistent y, and sprung to the window.

“ Quick!” he cried to the other detectives, as
he caught sight of a flying form darting through
the shrubbery and sprung after it, “ and do not
let the murderer escape. Upon his capture de-
pends the good name of my father, perhaps his
very life!”

 

CHAPTER X.
A DEEPENING MYSTERY.
NEVER was a scene of more startlin interest
revealed to the detectives of New ork than

that in which Willis Marvin and his companion
now took part. The four men in hot pursuit of
the flying murderer of Barnes, the air echoing
with shots, the streets rapidly filling with
alarmed people, the vicinity of the double trag—

A cry like that of a. man confronted with the wraith of his murdered victim broke from the outlaw’s lips.

“Let no one approach the prisoner,” he whis-
pered, “ and under no circumstances allow him
to know whether the banker is dead or alive.
I will return in a few minutes and explain my
project to you.”

Then he leaped from the carriage, carefully
closing the door after him. The men at the
gate stared at him curiously, and as he ascend-
ed the steps the two men at the door intercepted
him with a detaining hand—a barrier to his
further progress.

“ You are in charge of this case?” asked Mar-
Vin.

“ Yes,” was the reply.

Marvin threw back his coat and revealed his
badge of authority.

“ I am empowered to act in the case in con-
nection withgou,” he explained.

They stare at his unfamiliar face and form,
but bowed coui'teously, one of them leading the
way to the library.

“ Is he dead?” inquired Marvin, as they
reached the apartment.

No need to ask. He did not hear the assent-
ing reply of the officer as he gazed at the floor
of the library. There, lying prone upon the
blood-stained caipet, his eyes fixed in the star-
ing rigidity of eath, a ghastl wound in his
breast, lay the murdered ban er. In an ad-
joining apartment the wailing of the frightened
servants told that, although childless and wife-
less, the old man had sincere mourners among
his household.

The disguised detective glanced quickly about
the apartment. His searching vision was re-
warded by evidences of the recent struggle.
The door communicating with the iron steps,
through which the stranger had entered, was
still open, and the little cabinet-safe wheeled
close to the desk bore evidence of having been
ransacked. The cherr shelves were broken
and several large bun les of papers were scat-
tered over the floor.

The officers had brought a lamp to the scene
and its rays showed the broken one near .the
desk, and revealed also the package of illu-
minating paint, its contents dripping from the

een‘baize of the desk to the carpet, where a
gw drops had touched the banker’s outstretched
hand.

There the illumination had faded, turning to
a deep, somber purple in hue. .

A small piece of paper—the end Jagged and
rough as if torn from a stun ——attracted the
detective’s attention. He pic ed it up and
perused it with a start. It read:

" In trust for Robert Marvin.”

“The casket was taken,” he decided; “this
evidences that fact.” .

His two companions watched him interested-
ly. They saw him turn the body to examine
the wound, observed him pick up the bullet
which, penetrating the heart, had gone clear
through the body, and they marveled at_his
methodical coolness as be wrapped it in a piece
of paper and placed it in. is pocket. _

“Had the body better be disturbed until the
coroner comes?” suggested one of the men.

Marvin did not look up, but prepared to lift
the corpse.

 

him his intentions and projects. The detective
started in excited amazement while listening
attentively, and finally walked toward the li-
brary with the murmured words:

“ I understand.”

Marvin could feel the man by his side trem-
bling in his grasp, evidently deeply impressed
by the mysterious whispering and actions of his
ca tors. But he was too shrewd a criminal, too
fu ly an adept in police methods, to be lured
into committing himself; so he preserved a sul-
len silence when his captor said:

“ Barnes, you understand why we have
brought you here 2”

Marvin waited for a moment or two for a re-
ply. None being vouchsafed, however, he con-
tinued:

“ You are in our power, with evidence of a
crime against you, but we do not seek to have
you pay the penalty of another’s crime. You
did not fire the fatal shot, we know, but you
were the partner of the real assassin, which is
nearly as bad. That man we intend to find.”

Barnes broke into a coarse, derisive laugh:

“ And you expect me to tell you who he is, I
suppose?’ he demanded.

“ Exactly.”

“ Then plainly, I won’t.”

“ You will I”

The outlaw started at the quiet, determined
voice of the detective.

“ We’ll see,” he muttered, sullenly.

“I’m going to give you a chance for your
life,” continued Marvin, impressively. “The
fortunes of the Dynamite League have turned
and you had better save yourself while it is yet
time. We know our companions, all except
‘ the captain,’ an him we shall find, if not
throu h you, then by some other means. Sup-
pose ? should tell you that the banker is not
dead—”

The outlaw started.

“ Then it’s no hanging affair,” he cried, defi-
ant] “ and I’ll stand the nalty.”

“ ou’ll think better 0 it, Barnes, when I
tell you that if this affair concentrates on you,
the penalty for attempted murder, robbery
and conspiracy means a life sentence.”

He waited to note the effect of his persistent
attacks upon the mind of the other. He could
tell that he was weakenln .

“Now listen to me,” the Telegraph Detective
resumed, “ and make your decision. I agree, if
you will confess the truth, to shield you from
the men you tear to betray—to have you sent
safely out of the country. I shall take you in-
to this place, where you may be startled to see
the man you believed your accom lice mur-
dered sitting up, even if dying, rea y to iden-
tify his assailants. If before he speaks you con-
fess the name of the man who fired the shot,
well and good; if not, I will send you to jail
and show no mercy in prosecuting you to the
extreme end of the aw.’

He led him along the hall to where the
open door of the librar allowed a broad path
of light to fall across t e corridor car et. He

aused as they gained it, and exten ing one
hand said impressively:

“Look!”

A cry like that of a man confronted with the

 

edy became a veritable Babel for the time be-
ing.

A chagrined, disappointed quartette, one by
one they returned to the library where the two
victims of the night’s fateful crimes lay. Mar-
vin’s face was a picture of dismay, for he real-
ized that for a second time the infamous League
in awarding death to a traitor had complicated
and imperiled his most cherished interests and
those of the father who had suffered so much
for his fidelity to the cause of his client, Gerald
Thornd ke.

He g anced curiously at the ofiicer who had
knelt by the side of Barnes.

“ He is dead, quite dead,” replied the man, in
response to Marvin’s inquiring look.

“ Then our mission here is ended,” said the
Telegraph Detective. “ Will you see that the
galvanic battery is put up and sent home i”

He gave the officer the address of the pawn-
broker from whom he had obtained it and
turned to leave the place.

The former stopped him with a question.

“ There will be inquiries made for the reasons
as to the change in position of the body by the
coroner,” he insinuated.

“ I will give a satisfactory explanation to the
chief,” answered Marvin, and he left the place,
followed by Dorsett.

The intelligent eyes of the latter gleamed
with a latentcuriosity as they gained the street.
“ It has been an eventful night,” he began.

“It is the beginning of others equally fate-
ful ” was the response.

‘ What do you mean?"

“ That death lurks at every by-street and
corner for the man who seeks to trace down
this League of criminals.”

Dorsett did not seem to be startled by his
companion’s statement; instead, he met his

trou led glance wistfully.
Marvin read his emotions aright. A warm
friend, a partner in many a darin adventure,

be trusted and valued Dorsett, an
sudden impulse said:

“I read your thoughts, Dorsett. Your ven-
turesome spirit craves the excitement and glor
of the capture. Be it so! Let us together fo -
low out this deep game.”

“But you forget that I am in the dark as to
the motives or operations of the organization,”
su gested Dorsett.

‘That is true, but tonight my mind is too
fully harassed and confused to give you a suc-
cinct account of the case. Let the matter rest
until tomorrow night. Say you meet me at
nine o’clock.”

“ Where?” asked Dorsett, eagerly.

“ At the Galaxy restaurant. ’

“Very well; I will be there. Meantime there
is nothing I can do in this case!”

“Nothing except to watch out for the men
whose names and description I endeavored to
telegraph to head—quarters and to privatel in-
form the chief of police, but no one else, 0 the
true statement of the case.”

“ And you ?”

“I have some side issues to follow which I
must trace down, alone and unaided. I will
have something of importance to tell you when
I see you again.”

acting on a

They parted, going in different directions, at
the words. Marvin’s step was rapid, his man-
ner excited, impatient, as he hastened toward
the building where the mysterious stranger had
disappeared.

The officer at the door when he passed in the
carriage was still there. An exhibition of his
badge prompted him to confidence and atten-
tion, and he answered his questions readily.

“ You were sent here by the chief i” inquired
Marvm.

H  ’9

“ To find a man on description?”

“ Exactly.”

“ And your success 3”

O “ None. My partner and I are on guard—he
in the rear, in the hope of bagging our game if
he is,still in the vicinity, but it looks a hopeless
case.

He proceeded to detail his project in the case
to Marvin’s attentive ears. He had been sent
there hurriedly from head-quarters and directed
to. find a man imperfectly described. A talk
With the landlady of the house revealed the fact
than an hour previous 5. new lodger, who had
come there shortly after dark and secured a
room, had aroused her suspicions by going out
completely disguised, a few minutes later.
This _man’s description in his false and true
identity gave a. quick thrill to Marvin’s anxious
heart.

“My father!” he murmured, “and I never
suspected it.”

Later the man had returned to the house; she
had heard him go up to his room, and directed
the officers thither.

They mad gone on their mission of arrest cau-
tiously, but when they had broken in the door
of the apartment described by the landlady,
they had found it empty, in disorder, and a rope
hanging from the rear window told them that
their arrival having been suspected or observed
by the man they sought, he had quietly dropped
to the ground below and escaped.

The perplexity of suspense and doubt was
in the mind of the detective as he heard of this
act, in itself a constructive acknowledgment
of guilt seeking excape from conviction. If
this man was his father, why had he not boldly
faced the ofiicers? Why had he assumed the
part of a fugitive criminal? He knew his father
was innocent of any crime. There could be no
motive on his part for the committal of such in
recovering property which he had but to claim
in order to possess. Had his long incarceration
driven him insane, and were all his actions
based on such a complexion of thought, or had
he, foreseeing arrest and valuing his liberty to
carry out some cherished plan, sought a tem-
porary respite from custod ?

When Marvin thought of, the deep operations
of the Dynamite League, he did not marvel that
his father had feared they would lay the crime of
the murder of the banker to his charge. How-
ever, satisfied that he would soon find his
parent, he ascended to the room he had occu-
piedtand glanced hurriedly around the apart—
men .

The chamber was indeed in disorder, but t at
disorder gave an intelligent clew to the detect-
ive as to the identity of its former occupant.
An old worn suit of clothes lay on the floor, and
he trembled as he recognized the garments his
father had worn when he last saw him. The
man had gone to the banker’s house cautiously,
fearing that the members of the League might
anticipate him—had evidently determined to
prevent murder and attempted to do so, but not
successful in this, had secured the casket and
come hither. .

The casket? Yes, for there on the floor lay a
hammer and by its side a steel band. Evident-
ly Robert Marvin was engaged in examining
the casket to see if its contents were safe when
the ofiicors arrived, for the band must have
been a part of it, and lying under the tableas if
hastil drop was a folded paper.

Suc a wi d light sprung into Marvin’s eyes
as he opened and perused the paper that they
seemed to gleam with the intensity of an elec-
tric s ark.

“ ictory l” he cried, in tone: of inexpreuible
triumph and joy. “ The first success in my
operations against the Dynamite League!”

Whatever its importance, it held sufficient
value for him to bestow it carefully in an inner
breastpocket. Then, satisfied that he could ef-
fect no further good here, he left the place, a
new, hopeful light in his face.

It was the first gleam of joy amid despair and
grief. His the proud duty and task to clear his
father of any imputation of crime! Though
hunted down for murder, an innocent man, that
guiltlessness he would certainly prove!

Midnight bells were tolling as he reached the
street where Constance lived. As he recalled
the episode of the night, the wild ride in the
carriage, he grew anxious. The hour was late,
but suspense bade him learn if Constance Thorn—
dyke was safe—forced him to seek an elucida-
tion of the mystery of the vailed woman.

He entered the open doorway and rung the
bell for admittance to the side of the building
where Constance had found a temporary home.
The son of the landlady, a sleepy-headed boy,
answered the summons.

“ Miss Thorndyke,” said Marvin.
message of importance for her.”

“ I will ascertain if she will see you, sir,” was
the reply.

He disappeared, and was gone so long that
Marvin grew impatient, but the lad returned at
last. the landlady hastily dressed, with him.

“ Miss Thorndyke is gone,” she announced at
once.

“ Gone!” repeated Marvin in surprise.

“Yes. How and when I can’t tell. A lady
called early in the evening—a lady I mistook
for her at first, deeply vailed. She asked for
Miss Thorndyke, and was shown to her room.
I did not see her go out—I did not see Miss
Thorndyke go out, but about ten o’clock I re-
member hearing some noise in the hall. They
ma¥I have gone together and—”

T e last words were lost on Marvin’s hearing.
He had turned sick at heart as he saw plainly that
some deep plot had been concocted and success—
fully executed to decoy the woman he loved from
her home! He could not penetrate the deep
craftiness of his enemies, but assigned a ready
motive for the abduction as he strode down the
steps of the house, leaving the landlady staring
with wonder at his abrupt departure. is brain
was in a whirl—his mind confused and disturbed.

Beginning with his return to New York cit ,
his experience had been one wild uncertain
flight of adventures. He felt his head grow
dizzy his brain wearied, as he faced this new
complication. The exhausted physical system
refused to respond to the tireless promptings of
his active mind, and he turned his steps toward
his room, feeling the necessity of rest and
thought.

A mountain-weight of care on his mind his
eyes closed in slumber as he touched the ed,
and it was far into the forenoon when he
awoke.

If he censured himself for sleeping while those
he loved were in peril, his restored energy of
mind and body told him that he was all the more
clear and active for the tasks before him. He
ate a hurried breakfast and securing a morning
paper returned to his room to mark out his
course for the day.

His attention was fascinated as he saw the
main article in the ‘ournal headed in sensation—
al verbiagez—“A ystery of the Ni ht.” It
was indeed a mystery, as the paper ha it.

It related the murder of the banker, the
mysterious message to head—quarters, the bum—
ing of the building, and wound up by stating
that the brave young detective, Willis Marvin,
had perished in the flames after remaining at
the wire long enough to inform the police con-
cerning a mysterious stranger who had been
traced home but had escaped, and for whom
and his four accomplices, whOSe names had
also been learned, the police were now seeking.

Not a hint as to the ynamite League—not a
clew to the real conspiracy behind the murder
and his adventures!

“ I can only await my father's revealin
self,” concluded the young man, as he olded
the pa er. “The police will endeavor to trace

“ I have a

him-

 

down orrance and his confederates while I—l

 

 

 

 

  
  
 

-':)‘l

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

ummiimiminmmmml;

 

  

 

 
 

 must learn
:3 ; . 'l‘horndyke.”
‘ ' He wandered aimlessly about the streets the
 remainder of the day. Twice he Visited the
 vicinity of the Irving Place mansion but day-
-‘ * light was no time for successlul i'ecoiinOItering
i , and he had no idea of boldly facing Adrian
' vere et.
R(li‘or all that, homer, he decided that it was
he who has! directed the abduction of Con—
ii‘ I stance. If so, why had it been done! whither
if,» had she been taken? . .
wt..- "v ‘~ ’ “ If Adrian Revere knows I Will ascertain

"You and I understand each other, Adrian
I’wvere,” he said, in a voice trembling with ill-
suppressed anger. “You deem yourself safely
in rrenched behind the desperate League of crimi‘
nuls who have aided your iniquitous plots? You
think I cannot furnish the proofs of your com-
plicity in the crime?”

Revere faced him boldly.

“ “'hoevei‘ you are, officer or impostor, I «la—
mand that you leaVe my house. Arrest me, if
you have a warrant: if not, go!"

” Your house?’ cried Marvin, goaded to the
Verge of rage by the temporary defense Revere

i
What; has become of Constance traVel to the western horizon, she knew that she , who, seeing that she was powerless to detain

had made wonderful time in her run up. her, aned a farewell and ran rapidly toward

“Lucas Lonsdale was pacing the deck of the the mansion, nerVed to busy action by the news
Quickstep, overlooking the men in their work, she had heard, and a damn) to do all in her
and saw her coming. pOWer to aid in the capture of the daiing buc‘

He recogniZed her as the same maiden he had cancer who had boldly entered the lower har-
seen at Sandy Hook, and went forward to re- bor in broad daylight and carried off those most
ceive her, wondering at her coming, for that dear to her.
the brig was her destination he knew there And, while the alarm was spreading through
could be no doubt. the t0wn, and merchant vessels, in the absence

“Sir, I bring you news that a pirate craft has of vessels-of—war, were being hastily armed to
captured Captain Sherwood and his sister,” go in chase of the pirate, Lily was sailing home-
shouted Lily, as she came within huil.

little use against this horde of villains, Iain
sorry to say.”

Being now within range, the pirate chief or~
dered a shot thrown over the clip er.

The gun was fired, the iron hall went shriek-
ing on its course, and buried itself in the sea
near the clipper’s bows.

‘ But the vessel held on her way without notic-
ing the hint to come to.

Again and again were shots fired, but with
a like result.

The fire now was poured in heavily upon the

  

    
 
 
  

    
   
      
     
    
       
     
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
   
  
   
   
  
   
    
 
   
  
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
 
  
    
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
   
  
  
 
 
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
    
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
 
  
   
 

 

 

. _ ward through the darkness, guided by the bea- clipper, hitting her now and then, and cutting
" the truth this varynight,” he mentally deci-led; was enabled to assume. “ Is it your house?" “Good Godlwhat did you say, miss?” cried con in the light-house tower, where she knew down a sail or two, yet still the plucky com- , ,
v.6” . " :1 and nightfall lound him secure from i-euOgni- The question startled the man more than the the officer, springing upon the bulwarks. . her lovmg mother wa watching and longing mauder of the vesSel refused to lay to. .
 tion in his disguise in front of the mansion detective‘s threats. _ _ “Captain Sherwood and his sister were sail- for her return. Rapldly the [mg gamed upon her, and when 
"  formerly occupied by Gerald Thorndyke, “ You are insulting,” he returned, inachok- mg below the Narrows, SII‘, and Were over- at musket_shot range, the clipper Suddenly 
W7}: 7 ,1, -- » It was a rambling Strucgure‘ antiquated, and ing voice. . _ hauled by a large pirate craft, taken on board, CHAPTER XXXII. lulled up Sharpnand poured a broadSide of light 
fillets / ‘ U ' ' set far back from the street. The front win- “ I havearight to ask the question,”_perSisted their yachi’; burned, and the buccaneers then THE PIRATES CAPTIVES guns upon the pirate. *‘
 dows were dark—the only evidence of occu- Marvin. “Adrian Revere, the web is woven put to sea. -

pants being in the house was shown by the
l .. librar Windows in the rear. B‘esmes the ser-
 ‘ "i Q‘ _ vants quarters, a room Situated in a Wing was

The guns were well aimed, and cut down a
number of the crew, one of the shots passing
between Corinne and her brother.

which will yet lead you to the gallows. As the
protector and friend of Constance Thorndyke,
I demand to know what you have done With

“ Ho, lads! to the rescue!
“All hands ahoy!
“ Seize ybur arms, lower awa

IT was hard, very hard for Robin Sherwood

to realize the fearful situation in which he and
the boats, and

. . his sister were placed. “Come Corinne, you must go below,” cried - v
i i , . illuminated cautiously the detective reached her!" come with me to_board yon er old brig, in He would, for himself rather have been slain Sherwo , anxiously seizing her arm. ‘-
 i J» ' W the shadowed corner of "the house and peered in “ I?” replied the villain, with tantalizing indif— which we shall sail to the rescue of your cap- than that Corinne should have fallen into the “ No, brother, I will not move from here be i '3»
i; " "it “ through the open window around the curtain, ference: " what do I know of her, pray?’ tam !” . _ _ Wer of the pirate. and be blamed himself that the result what it may,” was the determined 
. y.” i ‘t A which drawn, fluttered loosely in the evening “Subterfuge will not avail you. I shall not Like sounding brassthe veice of Lucas Lons- is. growmg infatuation for the light—house answer, and in vain was it that he tried to r- :3;
.1: q, breeze, show my hand et, but I will learn where Con- dale rung out, and a Wild cheer broke from the maiden had gotten his Sister into such a fearful suede her to seek safety in the cabin, for the “
m  - p At a secretary, a cigar in his mouth, his hat stance Thornd y e is—the rightfulheiress to this bug’s crew. _ _ situation. clip rnow poured in a ct fire, as shelay to, and
'-;,,,n" , j! * ,  on sat the man whom of all others he hated— property, unjustly claimed and enjoyed by your- “ The pirate hOisted the black flag, Sir, when Once she recovered from her swoon, and she the ri was rushing down to board her.
i, i",  ’ 7“ thé individual he believed to he the essence of self.” She Set sall-
i T‘

showed a nerve- and spirit that was wonderful
ulpder the circumstances, and said to her bro-
t er:

“ The pirate has but taken us for ransom, for
I overheard one of his officers say that a sea—

, the formidable confederation he was warring
4..  against—Adrian Revere! He was writing a
, I ' m . letter, while a low-browed man, twirling a

I h I ‘ I slouch hat restlessly, was seated oppOSite him.

“Your wild statements lack proof,” Revere
responded, boldly. I
‘ Not so!’ rung in clear tones from Marvm’s
lips, as he drew the paper from his pocket

 

The re made almost a maniac of Ves r, the 3-
Pirate, for he shouted to his men to s ow no ”
mercy when they should board her.

A moment more and the brig was laid along-

“ She is about four hundred and fifty tons,
carries five guns, eighteens, I think, to a broad-
side, and a heavy pivot-gun fore and aft, while
she has a crew of fully a hundred men.

 

 

 

 

 ' that Constance might be in his power, perhaps
" ‘  beneath his very roof at that moment—held
him spellbound. _

“I will face this man,” he decided, foreibly.

“I have the proofs of his villainy in my posses- .
sion, and I cannot bear this suspense regarding He waved triumphantly a paper taken from
Constance.” the drawer before the amazed detective, who

His heart warmed at the mention of the loved erused the document as it was flung on the to.-
2 ‘ name. As he saw the man enter a little side- file before him.

~ room as if for a cane or some article of adorn- “ You cannot mean—” he gasped.
“I mean,” returned Revere, in triumphant
tones, “that this very day, legally, and of her
own free will, Constance Thorndyke became
joint heiress of her father with me; that she is
now my wife I”
(To be continued—commenced in No. 25.)

“ Ah, sir, do not prove yourself a fiend in
human shape!” cried Corinne pleadingly.

“ Silence, girl!"

“ Corinne, speak not to the wretch, for as he
punishes, so shall he one day meet punishment,”
sternly said Sherwood.

This remark brought the fury of the pirate , .
chief u n the young officer and turning to- 
ward him, be fairly shouted: if
“ Ho, man, you shall now meet your doom,
for I have not settled my score with you.

“ Oh, no, for I owe you many a debt, as you
have chased me from sea to sea, and once caused
me to run my schooner ashore to escape you.

“ Ho, men! seize that man!”

Several of his crew rushed u n Sherw
who made no resistance, for he cared he might
be cut down, and his sister left to the mercy of
the pirates.

ence to you. If this property is hers instead of
mine, I shall still enjoy its revenues despite
your laudable endeavors to dispossess me. I
have outwitted you, Willis Marvin, as I shall
continue to defy your plans."

already moving away in her skifi’ ; but she lufl’ed
up as Lonsdale hailed her.
“Would you be good enough to inform Mrs.
Sherwood of this sad affair, and ask her to send
word to the ofiicials?
“ The Sherwood mansion is a large white “ It is the surf-skiff.”

villa up the river—” “ Well?”

“ I know the place, sir. “ You see but one occupant in it?”
“ Good~by, and success attend you !” cried “ Yes.”

Lily, as she let her sail fill once more and head- “ It is the Lily of the Light-house.”
ed toward the Hudson, for the Quickstep was “Oh, brother!” -
lving over upon the Long Island shore of the “ Yes, and she has seen our capture and is fly-
East river. ing up to the city to give the alarm.”
As she ran into the pier of the Sherwood “ Brave, noble girll”

mansion, Lily glanced down the river and “Indeed she is, Corinne, and I feel most hope-
clapped her hands with delight, for she beheld ful now, for Lonsdale will move heaven and
the brig 'ist shooting into view below the Bat- earth to come in pursuit, while Mrs. Lennox
tery, an her decks and rigging crowded with can tell him which course the pirate has taken.”
men, who were setting sail With a rapidity that

=  _ _ . _ side the clipper with consummate skill, and the
r: i The detective recognized this man as one of dropped from the casket by his father. “ Be- “ She is a trim sailor and was making about man on board recognized you as he went to the tg(:-iipnels were thrown and the vessels made fast
:.  Vs‘ those who had been at the den destroyed by the hold!” five kn9ts With this breeze and had only her light-house” , each other. ,
g ., ‘- fire and his hearing was strained as Revere, He spread our before the amazed man the light sails set.” . _ _ “Yes, ransom can be his only object, .knpw- Then over the “high bulwarks swarmed the
; i, i, afte’r writing busny for a moment, crumpled document; as he spoke. “ Bravo! you are a born sailor, miss! ing that I and rich, SIS, and he shall have it, if it pirate crew, and in ten minutes more the battle
1'" I up the sheet, flinging it on the floor and begin- “ A will later than your own,” announced “ May I ask your. name?” _ ta es my entire fortune to free you. ” had ended.
I ‘ ning to write again. Marvin, triumphantly; “ a will made by my “ LllV. Lennox, 811‘, and I live at the Sandy “ And yourself, brother?” . I Half an hour passed, and then Captain Vesper
.i; ‘ ‘9‘" ' ; For five minutes there was silence in the father in favor of Constance Thorndyke, our Hook Light-house, which please run in close to .“He may have my life if he it, if be ap ared, and sprung back upon his own vessel.
‘ ,l‘.’  - room- then Revere arose, handing his visitor a victim, properly signed and attested. hat and bail, and my mother Will tell you what Will only release you, my dear sister.” . is face was llVld with rage, and he shouted
' r' . r ‘ ~ sealed letter as he said; say you now, Adrian Revere? This, my first course the pirate took, and how far distant at “ No, no: we go or remain together, Robin.” in revengeful tones: .
.' P, of y g. i. For Torrancey n ove to prove your infamy: my second, the sunset.” ' . And thus the two talked over their dire mis- “ Not a peso do I get from the accursed craft, _  ,_
.l“,  a '” ' - , » “ Very well, captain.” evidence that you are a murderer.” “ I thank on, Miss Lennox, f'oruyour kind- fortune, for Captain Vesper had left them alone and I have lost a dozen good men. n
lg“ " i" i The detective started violently. Captain 1 He was anticipating the proof with which he ness, and I Will get yonder old brig in pursuit in m the cabin With the remark:. “ By Satan, but her on tain and his crew that "
' 1"” ‘ Were his suspicions destined to be verified? would overwhelm the audacious villain. The half an hour. _ . ' “Captain Sherwood, I am like the cat; I love are alive shall pay deer or this.
- ' . 9" Was he to be enabled to soon place the brand latter was pale and alarmed as he gazed at the “ She is old and needs repairs, but she is said to torture before I strike, so I will take my time “ Ho, there, you accursed hounds!
1" . " of crime on the brow where it properly be- document, but he coolly regarded his compan- to be a fast sailer, while her armament is good, in dec1dmg what I Will do With my valuable “Lock those prisoners in the ship’s hold and p
'v - -" longed? ion a moment later. and heaVier than what you say the pirate can captives. _ set the accursed craft on fire!” 
' ,‘aw i. ‘ The messenger left the room, ReVere accom- “ You champion a lost cause, with all your boast. _ . “ The cabin and the quarter—deck are at your “ Ay, ay, sir," was the answer, and in a tone ,,
lip,  ji - ' panying him to the door. For a moment Mar- shrewdness,” he declared, opening a drawer in “ Farewell, Miss Lennox, and I only wish I service, so make yourselves at home, please.” as though the speaker rather enjoyed the antici- i1
‘ z“. 3?,“ ‘ . vin was tempted to follow, but the sight of the the desk. “ If Constance Thorndyke were ten could have you for a. lieutenant on the cruise.” .“ Bowl! 8. day of retribution yet may come,” pated torture to be visited upon the victims. 
“37'. .:,l‘ ‘ dark, evil face of Adrian Revere—the thought times in my possession it could make no ditfer- The last words were called out, as Lily was hissed Sherwood. _.

As the pirate vessel passed out into the ocean,
Robin Sherwood, who was gazing from the
cabin stern ports, suddenly started and said:
“ Sis, do you see yonder little sail .4”

“Yes, brother.”

 

. ment, he leaped to the sill of the twindow,
gr. “ brushed the curtain aside and stood Within the
" apartment. .

It was luxuriously furnished, and his brow
. clouded as he recalled the friendlessness and
t . destitution of COnstance Thorndyke, while this
V“  villain, her treacherous relative, enjoyed the
, luxury of wealth and position. Involuntarin
,5 r. ‘ his hand sought the crumpled piece of paper on

 

 

COMING HOME.

 

 

 

_ _ “But the Quickstep is far from ready for sea, Quickly irons were placed u n his wrists, 
f. | the floor, and be had bent over, secured it, and showed they were in deadly earnest in the chase brother.” . I . his hands being drawn behin him, and his 
.i- ' ‘ regained an erect position, when a quick cry av In A. xmmL. of the pirate. ' . . “ Truenyet there is a brig-of-war just put out ankles were also manacled, though poor Corinne ‘7
., ‘  _ » preceded the sudden reappearance of Revere. Watchin her a minute, until she pointed of commission, lying near the Quickstep, and dropped upon her knees, and with clasped hands .
fE“: " Who are you? What means this intrusion?" B’gggcfi'gs a" beaming down the arbor, and felt the Wind f3" 0“

she has only a small guard on board, and Lona-
dale will take her.

“ Just see how the surf~skifl' flies!

“ I am afraid Lily is carrying too much sail
for this wind; but she knOWS best what her boat

my coming, 0
When the ay. gleaming,
Fades into gloaming;

Glad ste s descending
The 0] orchard way,

, he demanded, his face slightly pale, his eyes
a; . ’ , wearing a startled expression.

 As if recognizing a foe Revere had advanced
to the desk. At that moment looking down
Marvin saw in an open drawer a revolver, and

begged piteously for him.
But the pirate was maddened by his losses,

and his disappointment in not getting booty, ‘
and shouted:

“ No, girl, I will not spare him.

her starboard uarter, Lily muttered, as she
hastened on to t 6 house:
“ The brig is a good sailor, and Heaven grant
that she overhaul the pirate, for oh! what agony

 

 g . must poor Miss Sherwood and her brother suf— can do.” “ He shall be strung up at the yard-arm with-
 " m” a uiCk s ri" be secured it' I he Other he thrae boughsmblendmg fer!" To other they watched the surf-skit until it in the hour, and you shall see him die!”
I? ‘ ta ted k asp 'f 8to reach the bell cord and p1,?! “gm”? or :13”

J 5 1' 3° 3 ‘ e ume e am r

fade from sight in the distance, and than Sher-
alarm the house.

“Oh God! hast Thou indeed deserted us?”
wood said:

With richnesso springz— shrieked Corinne, and tottering toward her 2'-

CHAPTER XXXI.
While hiding the fair

. “Assassin, would you murder me?" cried the LILY AGAIN VISITS snunwoon won.

“Corinne, sis, the old villain gave us the
man. in sincere alarm.

 

 

 

  
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
   

 

 

 _ brother she fell at his feet in a. swoon that '
gig-r ‘ . Sweet songstcrs that sing.  Smwoop sat alone upon her piazza privilege of the quarter-deck, so let us go there, seemed akin to death. ‘ «f
 » f. u Stop!" came imperatively from Marvin’s Fond words of welcome on oying the owning breeze. _ as I wish to see just what this craft can do.” (To be continued—commenced in No. 20.) 
i‘k ' - lips. “ Pause where you are, Adrian ReVere, That warm the whole heart, _ he §aw the little 5‘93 through the 1011339, 8:5 “ She appears to 3311 We“, brOther-n ‘i
ll r or it will be the worse for you," When we two have met it ran in to the pier, and at first thought that it “ She does; there is no denying that fact; but ‘ s
be, . He made no retense of a threat with the Where apple-boughs part was the yacht returning with her son and onsdale will givo her a hot chase, once he w B d ’ I .
,f wea on in his fiend. at the other obe ed In sweet Dearly b10911], daughter, for the boatman had told her that 3i his her, and carry the old brig’s sticks out   a  
i p ’ y y Jstovrthewa — . . . 8 I
if _ , him. on gearing our 110115;; the captain and Corinna had sailed away to- but what he catches her. 
g. ' .. In Heaven’s name, who are you; What, At closing of day_ gether. . _ _ ~ “ Come !” and the two went on deck. BY mam: TRIPLE”. . -
13. does this 3mm 9 visit mean i” quavered the vil- _ , As she saw Lily approaching she recognized The pirate chief greeted them with a sinister -’
 1am, his 1, ps as en, his hands trembling percep_ SvIveet 181the ctl>mln her, and hastily grass for one of those presenti- smile, intended for one of welcome, and than Cole You ,~ ’2
g, m), . ‘ “21121; {Egg 33:38“ ments of eVll which often come to us, seemed to asked Sherwood what he thought of his vessel. “gen '  'i
35' Tgose hands! If their tremor told a tale of Crysta, mygs streaming; suddenly fill her heart. _ “ She is too fine a. craft to  commanded and 0]? all the Missouri bandits who for near! a ,
2;, , uilt, their appearance to the piercing gaze of That much with its old Lily was very pale, for her excitement evou manned by a pirate and his Vile gang,” was the quarter of a. century defied all law and foi ed 
ii? figmvin revealed a startling suggestion. For, Her bonny brownfimir, had not brought color to her face; but she was prompt rejoinder. all attain ts at arrest, Cole Younger was the 
 as if for an evenin promenade, one hand was And repaint the smile calm outwardly, and bowed politely, while she “The Senor Sherwood seems to forget that in. rave, generous, and naturally kind- . 
 gloved_the right and, and he had not re. That welcomes me there- said: he is not upon his own deck,” said Captain Veso carted; he was an outlaw more from necessity 
is“ moved the covering to write the letter he had “ Mrs. Sherwood, once before I was the bearer per, savagely. . ' than choice, and was at all times opposed to the 
‘ ‘5: g disratched to Torrance. _ _ . of‘good news to you, and now-’ “ You are mistaken, Sir Ifirate, for the fact shedding of blood unnecessarily. esse James, ,‘
‘ x. V .. Adrian Revere,” spoke the detective, drift. I Oh, speak! tell me what has happened, for could not escape my mind With you before my aborn gambler, loved t; e excitement of a train, ‘
i ' 1 -, ing from the terrible secret he felt assured the e a  I I feel that something awful has occurred to m e as.” stage or bank robbery, and was in his element
in, , . _ loved band could reveal, yet delaying its eluci- ’ poor children! ’ and Mrs. Sherwood sunk bac The outlaw turned awn , and the brother and when defying or distancing pursuit. With Cole
‘np ,, - tion for the present; “ I have come here as an OR into her chair. for she was unable to stand. sister were left alone unt night fell upon the H
H.‘ 1

avenger and as an oflicer of the law. You may
not remember my face, but my name you wi 1
not have forgotten—Willis Marvin.”

I . A He had tom the false heard from his face and
 l V  confronted the other with flashing eyes. The

Younger it was different; unable at the close of l
the war to remain peaceably at home, hunted
and bounded by cowardly enemies and in daily i
and nightly danger of assassination he at last
turned upon the law, that seemed unable to _
defend him, and bade defiance to its officers. % 

“ My dear Mrs. Sherwood, Captain Sherwood
and his sister are both alive, only they were
captiired by a vessel while sailing in the lower
ba

sea, when they were invited down into the
cabin to supper.

Feeling that it would only make matters worse
to reply, Sherwood determined to curb his tem-
per and his tongue, and they descended to the

The Freebooters of Sandy Hook.

A Tale of Fiction, founded upon Fact, in the

 

“ Captured by a vessel?” gasped the unhappy

 

 

. white face of Revere told him that the discovery . f 1- f Y k woman. . cabin. Of course his relatives den his pgitici tion in i

 T9 i r of his visitor’s identity had overwhelmed him. mm)” o “1,8 cal-.1“ days 0 New or “ Yes, madam, a craft that had anchored in Corinne was given the seat of honor upon the any of the numerous trainyand nk gibbon-ice, ;

..  “ You know me !” cried Marvin. “I can see “(1 1“ “dficent Wflters- the lower bay. pirate’s right, and her brother sat opposite to 
ii» it in your evil, coward face. I have not traced

but there is no doubt that the raid upon the
Corydon, Iowa, Bank numbered him among its
perpetrators, this being his first Venture of that
sort. There is also no doubt but that he was
innocent of the robbery of the Gallatin, Mo.,
Bank and the murder of John W. Sheals, its
cashier. This was the work of the Jameson
who, in addition to the hope of gain, also added .
the desire of vengeance for the death of Bill "
Anderson, their guerrilla leader. The Corydon 
spoil proved large, about 840,000 and the ven- ‘ I
ture was attended with but little excitement.
While three of the band were inside the bank
sacking it, Cole Younger and one other bandit
were left mounted in the streets to prevent the
approach of the citizens Seeing the quiet good
nature of these two sentinels, the gatherin citi-
zens began to press closer and, closer to ghoul,

“I saw the vessel bring their yacht to, and

them go on board.”

“ And then? and then?”

“ The vessel stood out to sea, and a large ran-

gom will doubtless be demanded for their free-
om.

“ The vessel was a smuggler then?”

“It was an outlaw craft, madam,” evasiver

assured Lily.

“ Oh, God! what will happen to my children!

“ But how know you this, girl?” quickly asked

Mrs. Sherwood, and also there was a. tone of

suspicion in her tone.

“ I live at the Sandy Hook Light-house,

madam, and saw them captured, and their lit—

tle yacht burned.

“ Then I sprung into my surf-skiff and ran up

to the city, and over to the brig-of-war Quick-

her.

To their surprise the buccaneer chief sudden-
ly became pleasant in his manner toward them,
talked of matters wholly foreign to their cap-
ture, and the meal was ended without an angry
or unkind remark or res use.

Treating Corinne wit easy politeness, Cap-
tain Ves r assigned to her use his own state-
room, w ile be occupied one of the two smaller
ones upon the port side of the vessel, the other
being given to Robin Sherwood.

And thus the night passed away, and down
came to find no vessel in sight.

The day went by and night again came on, and
time was told by light and darkness until two
weeks had passed away.

In that time the pirate had made several cap-
tures of almost valueless vessels as far as booty

BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM,

AUTHOR or “THE LEAGUE or THREE,” “ BUF-

FALO BILL's GRIP,” “MERLE, rm:
MUTINEER,” ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER XXX.
THE WARNING.~

STANDING upon the beach, watching the de-
parture of her guests, and somewhat anxious
regarding the strange cruiser, which she saw
weighing anchor and setting sail, was the Lily
of the Light-house.

Her mother had returned to the cottage, leav-
ing the maiden thinking over the pleasure of
her visit from Robin Sherwood and his sister.
As the vessel headed on a course that must
necessarily bring her near the little sloop, Lil
grew more anxious, and running up to the co

you in vain, Adrian Revere! The long, wear-
ing months of anxiety concerning a father’s
i fate are at an end, and you, who sought to as-
- sassinate me, are now in my power.”

- The craven face told why Adrian Revere
leaned for support on a chair. Believing Mar—
vin dead the sudden apparition had over-
whelmed him, and his words brought a new ter-
ror to his apprehensive heart. _

“ To-night,” continued Marvin, 'lIl cold, steady
tones, “the police of New York know of your
League—tonight I come here to unmask and ar-
rest ou.” I _

“ rest me?” replied Revere, With an at-
tein t at surprise. “ Upon what charge?”

“ urder!”

The other started as though struck by an in-
visible hand. It seemed as if his mind, suddenly

\

 

mi" 1

 

WM" ' '
..
«$5?

 

. until almost near enou h to take their horses .
‘ step, and told the officer in charge all that had was concerned, and Sherwood had an opportu- by the bits. To pmveng too much of this dan-

 ‘ aroused, called his usual boldness to his rescue, tage she called to her mother and expressed her occurred.” . nit of knowing that he was a cruel monster, gerous familiarity Younger drew both of his '
2; , .. ' for the next moment he turned defiantly on the fears, ' . ‘j You are a brave, noble girl; but alas! the an that the stories told of Vesper, the Pirate, pistols, cocked an fired them, apparently into a
: ~ - Telegraph Detective. Then the two stood in the shadow of the light- Quickstep cannot ut to sea.”

“You threaten me with arrest for murder?

 

were not forecastle arns alone. thee wd. T hats k k d f
house and attentively watched what followed. “ No, madam, reg m wo were Doc 6 mm the

ut there was a bri -of-war

 

    
 
   
     
    
 
   

she is very fleet so have hope of the speedy re—
turn of those yciu love Mrs. Sherwood.”
“ Bless you, my chil , for your words of hope.
“ Come! show me the vemel in chase.”

    
    

._ . . ‘ He also discove that the pirate vessel was heads of two of the citizens, and the others i 
~ l Your prOOfS?” With Pale faces they saw the 8110‘? thrown lymg “63" her With 811118 at“! 8 811181 guard a remarkably fast sailor, fully as fleet as his pressed back, as the bandit ood-naturodly said: "
 : u They shall be forthcoming,” replied Marvin; over the yacht’s bows, and then beheld the two crew on boardtand our son’s lieutenant at once own Quickstep, and behaved well in a blow. “ It will be your heads nex time.”
 i “ sit down!” ' occupants taken on board the vessel. boarded her With al at his officers and meet:i One afternoon, during the third week of the For this and his posed complicity in other
 . ' His words were so imperative, his face had Still they hoped that nothing was wrong. and as I landed at your pier I saw her head captives’ sta upon the irate vessel, a sail was robberies the sheigilg; of the Western Missouri 
‘ ’ grown so stern/and threatening that the other But suddenly Lily uttered a piercing cry down the harbor under clouds of canvas, and sighted of! t star bow ‘ counties, as well as the detective, of Chicago ..
sunk intoa chair. that caused her mother to seize her arm in V

The brig was running briskly along on a
northerly course, not far from the Delaware
coast. 2

“This pistol,” said Marvin, as calmly as he
could command his voice to speak, “has one
barrel only, empty. I can supply the missmg

alarm. . .
“ My child! my child! what is it?”
“See! see, mother !”

 

and St. Louis, began a hunt for these daring
raiders. At one of his haunts in Jackson coun-
ty, Younger was walking

   
 
 
 
  
  

 
 
 

    
     
    
       
      
  
        
     
 
 
      
    
    
        
 
 
 
 
 
  

corners, and under amass of thishe hid himself,
covering. his traces as carefully as an Indian
would. He had hardly secreted himself when ..
the pursuers burst into the field, onl to find a 
that their prey had died . council - i T
was held, in plain hearing 0 Younger, and one ‘
member of the

 

“ I hope she may escape,” fervently answered
Corinne, whose captivity had taken the bloom
from her cheeks and brought a look of sadnem
to her eyes in spite of her plucky spirit.

It soon became very evident that the pirate
captain considered his prize might prove evalu-

In his excitement and indignation Marvin’s
prudence had been forsaken for reckless de-
nunciation. He hesitated as he noticed that the
man’s eyes had assumed a. crafty expression.
He saw his folly. He was supplying this assas-
sin with a knowledge which might lead to his

“ But what good can you do, Lily?”

“The crew of Captain Sherwood are there,
and they can be thrown on some Vessel to go in
pursuit.

“ I will at once make known the news.

“ It is yet several hours before dark, and if

across a wheat-field  ‘
_ I , _ , . At the first glance Sherwood ho that the on his way to the timber, in which his'horsewu 

:; bullet, it is here—found in the library of the “The Vessel is getting under way again and Lily led the way quickly to the pier, and vessel was a cruiser; but as she lifted he saw concealed, when he was seen from the road by 

. ' , murdered banker, Hiram Arnold.” heads seaward.” there, nearly down to _ the Narrows, and that it was a merchant craft, and a large clipper a mounted posse. The latter, unable to make ;
A.  ; Raven’s eyes were fixed with startling inten- “ 0b, mother! do you not see the flag that she faintly seen in the gathering twflight, was the shigzi) _ their horses jump the fence, had to ride a short f‘
3" Sity 011 the CNSth leaden ball Marvm had has Pig? “in “P?” P11130193 brig- _ . n after his experienced eye told him just distance up the road to a to, and so were for i
 . taken from his pocket. A forced laugh broke “ t is the black flag. T8.ng her glass from her skiff the maiden what she was, and he said to his siste‘ r, who a. moment out of sight of ounger. The latter,
L- from his lips, however. “ God have mercy upon them!” groaned Mrs. gave it to Mrs. Sherwood to look through. stood by his side: not antici ting the pursuit, was entirel' y un. .,
T, “ A clever coincidence, truly," be retorted. Lennox. _ ' “ Yes, I see her now distinctly, and her decks “ She is one of the Philadelphia and Wilming- armed, unfitmtagem was his only mode of eS- . r
{T “ I own a revolver, you forcibly take possession But now Lily seemed to be herself again, for are crowded With men. . ton freighters, and sometimes there is treasure cape, but his ready wit saved him. The briers q
7, ' of it and charge me with the committing of a she cried: . “God speed you, brave Lopsdale, in the sent by them, which the pirate doubtless known, and brush had been cut and piled in the fence. ‘ ‘;
é: ‘ crime I never heard of before. Any other like “ Quick, mother, and me to get ready, for I chose, and Heaven aid you in your good for he is pressing on all sail in chase.”
jg if proofs?” he asked, sneeringly. shall run right up to New York.” work!”

“ Amen !” fervently said Lily, and then she
continued:

“ Now, Mrs. Sherwood, the lieutenant asked
me to break the news to you, and request that
you inform the city officials, and perhaps an-
other vessel may be sent in chase.”

   
 
 
 
     
      
     
        
     
    
    
   
 

bl h f ' ht ' 1' hi: behid piissiisugge‘iied mail tile 0mm" "
. . ' _ a eone, assuc reig carryingCi pers were mi in t e ru - esiut e on r- *
successful defense. He did not forget, too, that you will keep watch which course the pirate ‘ Gladly Will I do so, and I am so dazed With often used as the bearers of more valfiable mer- nen‘s. s p ‘r
the scoundrel might hold the liberty and life of ta_kes, her rate of sailing, and distance from grief, or I would have spread the alarm at

   
   
   
 

Constance Thorndyke in his power.

“ I have said enough,” he returned. “ You
dare not den that, through your devilish
machinations, éerald Thorndyke was led to de-
vise his prooerty to you—that by your order the

chandise than their bills of lading gave them
credit for.

The sailin qualities of the buccaneer craft
soon show themselves, for the brig rapidly
overhauled the cli per, although she seemed to

 
 

here at sunset, I will tell the ofiicer to run in
close and hail you, so that you can tell him.

“ Now, mother, good-by.”

While she was talking, Lily was getting ready,
and ten minutes after her surf - skiff was

 
 

once.”

“ Come with me, my child, to th. mansion,
and I will dispatch my servants at once upon
the errand.”

“No, madam, for I must return home, as

 
  
 
 
 

“ let’s search ’em.

“ Search nothing!” said the first speaker. “ I
don’t intend to scratch my hands up with these
cursed thorns and briers.”

 
 

“The very pla’pe, boys!” said the leader; 

  
  
     
    
         
       
  
 
    

 

   
   

 

 

  
  
 
  
  
 

 

 

 

 

 

.- be a white clou fl ing low on the sea so “ How then shall it be done ” ,:
" Dynamite eague has hunted and rsecuted bounding up the harbor. my mother expects me, and is all alone.” crowded was she with canvas from deck to leader. ’ ’ ’ and the 
‘, the woman whose cause I am pledge to cham- It was a stiff wind forsosmall a boat to carrv ‘ No, you must not go alone, and at night. truck. ‘ u Just this way,” was the reply as he fired s f,

 pion.” full sail; but with sand-bag ballast to Wind- “ W’uit, and} Will have Colonel Grayson sail “Corinne, yonder craft is armed,” said Sher- his pistol into the brush, his bullet passing V

“L “I dare deny it, Willis Marvin. What to me ward, and herself lying over on the gunwale, she you home in his acht.” wood in a. low tone to his sister, as his practiced through the fleshy part of the outlaw’s arm. 1:»

are your Wild claims, your visionary Leagues? held on her way the little craft, seeming to fly “No indeed, s. Sherwood, for I am not eye detectedsomething about her that suggested This trivial wound drew no sound from ‘ "-1
F You burst unceremomously into the home of a over the waters. afraid, and I am a good sailor. t at she was not an unarmed craft. ‘
private gentleman, under the sanction of the Yet to Lily it appeared to stand still, and the

 
 

Younger, and the part rode off, firing one or
more shots into each 0 the brush-piles around
the field, but without avail.

Younger’s next exploit was the Ste. Genevieve
bank robbery, Where the gang got but a small
booty, the funds of the institution havin been
removed to St. Louis prior to discontinuing

“Good-night, madam, and do not lose an
time in giving the alarm to the Government 0 ~
ficers.”

Without another word Lily sprung into her
skill, cast off the painter, and was borne swift!
away, unheeding the cry of Mrs. Sherw

law. Beware! Your second dismissal from the
police force may prove more summary than
your first!”

Marvin could scarcely repress the rage which
this man inspired.

  

 

“ A cruiser, brother?” asked Corinne eagerly,

and with hope.

“No, but a. Vessel whose owners consider it

best to have her captain able to defend his ship.
“ She has, doubtless, a few light gun and a.

crew of perhaps thirty men, but they will be of

minutes dragged by like hours.

When the Narrows shut off the wind it little,
she became fearfully nervous: but when at last
she ran alongside of the brig-of—war Quickstep,
and saw that the sun had yet some distance to

   
 
 
   
     
 
 
 

 

  
  
 
   
  
 

 

 

 

     
  

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

    





.r ,.

 

a

 

 

 

  

 

  
 
  
  

 

 

the business.
of town under fire from the citizens, Youn—

As the robbers were riding out

ger coolly dismounted in order to pick up
the sack containing the spoil, which had fallen
from his horse—the horse, a very wild one,
which had never been under fire before, took
fIight, broke loose and fled. This was a situ-
ation that would have appalled most men, but
not this one. To Jesse James, who had now be
gun firing on the pursuers in dead earnest, he
called out, laughingly:

“Whenever it gets too hot just spin out; I’ll
take care of myself. You see I’ve got the
ducats.”

A German coming up at this juncture was
pressed into service and sent with Ed Miller in

ursuit of the flying steed. Bringing it back,
e asked, with the thrift peculiar to his race:
“ What you geefs fer catching dat horse?”

“Your life, you durned Dutchman!” replied
the gaturnine Jesse, and they were off like the
wm .

Younger was present at the Hot Springs
stage robbery, where ex Governor Burbank, of
Dakota, narrowly escaped with his life, and also
at the Gad’s Hill and Bentonville raids, already
mentioned in a preceding sketch. It is strenu-
ously insisted that he participated in the Rus-
sellville and Columbia (Ky.) bank robberies, but
this is somewhat more than doubtful. The rob-
bery of the Kansas City Fair Grounds was
planned by Jesse James, then living in Kansas
City, and in this Younger was a participant.
This yielded a large amount of money, (about
$10,000,) and for a time their raids ceased.
Younger almost immediately after this robbery
started for Texas, going by way of the In—
dian Territory. In this delectable country he
met the notorious Jack Glass, a demon in-
carnate, if ever there was one. Younger. in
the guise of a peaceable traveler, had avoided
all cause of quarrel, and when Glass sought to
provoke a combat, he endeavored to pacify him.
At last, however, his never very tame spirit
rose to boiling heat, and he made this proposal:
“You have with you a dozen comrades, and
want to put a fight onto a solitary and quiet
stranger, when you have all the advantage.
Now if nothing but a fight will do you, I’ll give
you one, if you ain‘t as big a coward as I think
you are.”

“All right, stranger,” said Glass, “if you
think I can’t accommodate you, you’re left.”

“ Well,” said Younger, “I’ll do this. You
move your men back on the prairie two hun-
dred yards and we’ll separate the same distance
on this road. We’ll start from here back to
back, and when each of us has ridden a hundred
yards we’ll wheel and ride at each other—no
limit to the number of shots—best man goes
elear.”

“ I’m agreeable,” said Glass with a grin, and
sending his men off from the road some two
hundred yards, the started off from each other
at abrisk trot. hen a s ace of about two
hundred yards had separa them they wheeled
and came at each other fiercely, each giving
vent to a terrific ell. Glass began firing the
moment he wheel his horse, but with the ex-
ception of a light scratch on the cheek, Younger
was not harmed. With Glass it fared worse,
for Younger reserved his fire until within a
dozen yards and then planted a ball full in the
forehead of the fine, thoroughbred stallion
Glass was riding, and then as the horse
stumbled headlong in the agon of death, he
clubbed his pisto and knocke his opponent
from his saddle. A ho‘wl went up from Glass’s
followers, but no pursuit was made and Young-
er reached Texas in safety.

“ I could have killed Glass a dozen times be-
fore we came together, but I didn’t want all the
Indians and United States marshals in the
territor hunting me just then,” said Younger
when as ed why he held his fire so long.

In 1873 the bandits conceived the idea of
ditching and robbing a train and then treated
the newspa rs to a sensation. The Rock
Island and acific Road was selected for the
experiment and a cut a dozen miles east of
Council Bluffs was the scene of the exploit.
The affair was a success from the bandit stand-

int,though the booty was less than anticipated.

his affair caused a renewed activity in the hunt
after Younger and the J ameses, but resulted in
nothing very startling. One posse following a
hot trail were suddenly confronted by Cole and
John Younger, admonished of the great danger
in the reckless handling of firearms and allowed
to go scot free, arms and all. Younger had no
hand in the death of I‘Vhicher, that being the
work of the Jameses and Dick Liddil. He was
one of Pinkerton’s detectives and had pene-
trated into Clay county, nearly to the home of
Dr. Samuels, step-father of the Jameses, when
he was suddenly confronted by Jesse James.
Taken into the heavy timber he was ke t until
it was entirely dark, then taken to an across
the Missouri river and hung toa tree in Jackson
count . As the outlaws were riding OE they
fired back a volley of bullets, some of which
struck the dead man and one of which cut the
rope by which he was hanging and the body
fell to the ground. Captain Lull, another of
Pinkerton‘s detectives, fared no better. He,
Daniels and Wright were riding along in search
of Cole Youn er, when they were halted by
Jim and John ounger, who covered them with
a double—barreled shotgun. Being commanded
to throw down their arms the detectives did so,
Lull retainin , unknown to Younger, a pocket
derringer. im Younger got down to pick up
the pistols and John lOWered his gun. Taking
advantage of this move Lull drew his derringer
and shot John Younger through the neck and
started to spur off. The blood spurted from
the carotid artery of Younger, but such was his
indomitable courage that in the very throes of
death he drew a pistol and fired, mortally
wounding Lull, and dropped at the same in-
stant from his horse, dead. Jim Younger then
opened fire on Daniels, who returned it, wound-
ing him slightly. Youn er’s next shot struck
Daniels in the neck and e fell dead. Wright
had, at the beginning of the alfray, put spurs
to his horse and escaped. Younger has been ac-
cused of aiding the Jameses in the murder of
Daniel Askew, but this is false. The Muncie,
Kansas, train robbery was Cole Younger’s next
exploit. Contrar to the general belief he had
no hand in the untington, W. Va., bank rob-

bery, which was the work of Jesse and Frank.

James, Thom son McDaniels and Jack Kean.
Of these four cDaniels was killed. Kean cap-
tured, and the Jameses escaped. The raid on
the Missouri Pacific train at Otterville was
the last but one of Cole Younger’s adventures.
Eight men participated in this robbe name-
lyz—Frank and esse James, Bill C adwell,
Hobbs Keny, Charlie Pitts, Cole and Bob
Younger, and Clell Miller. With the exception
of Keny, no more desperate or courageous body
of men were ever associated together. Owing
to his drunken vaporing about his share in this
exploit. Keny was arrested, tried and sent to
the penitentiary. Pitts, as already shown in a
former sketch, was arrested but escaped. Bill
Chadwell after a desperate pursuit mana ed to
elude the officers; the others escaped Without
difliculty.

When the raid on a Minnesota bank was dis-
cussed, Cole Younger showed its disadvantages
and was for the holder stroke of pillaging some
rich bank in Canada and then escaping by a
fli ht through the W’estern wilderness. Over-
ruIed by Chadwell, Pitts and the Jameses, he
finally gave in and the band started for Minne-
sota in squads of two. Frank James and Chad—
well, who were in the advance, decided upon
Northfield as the point of attack. Here the
usual tactics of these bandits were put into
effect: two Of them stationed themselves in
front of the bank, their horses hitched near.
Soon a noise as of distant thunder is heard and
whooping, elling and firing their pistols the
rest of the and dashed down the streets and
cleared them. Rushing into the bank the two
outlaws presented their pistols and demanded
its moneys. By this time the town warned by
the yelling and firing was aroused, and quite a
number of men, secreted in various buildings,
were ra idly firing upon the robbers in the
street. ill Chad well was the first to fall. He
had boasted that he had stolen a horse in every
county in the State and was the guide of the

 

expedition. His fall was an ill-omen. Clell
Miller riding rapidly through the streets was
the next to go under. Riding up to him under
the heavy fire,‘Cole Younger dismounted and
secured his revolvers (a point of honor among
those who had been guerrillas together. Chad-
well was a new man and his weapons were not
thus secured.) Bob Younger’s horse was killed
and his right arm broken by a rifle-ball. Chang—
ing his pistol to his left hand he still fought on.
Seeing that all of them would fall victims to
this heavy fire from a concealed foe, Cole
shouted to those in the bank to come out. In
the rush Jim Younger’s horse broke loose from
him and he was left behind terribly wounded.
Shouting to the others: “ Help me, I’m shot,”
Cole dashed back, took him upon his horse and
on they fled.

The cashier of the bank, J. L. Haywood, and
a. Norwegian, named Gustavsen, were killed by
the bandits. Their flight from Northfield has
been described in Sketch NO. 2. Every one of
them had one or more wounds. In this condi—
tion they had reached Shiellsville b night,
having ridden twenty-five miles since ialf past
two o’clock. While surrounded in the timber
near Mankato, a man named Dunning, who was
one of the pursuers, stumbled into their camp.
He was covered with a revolver and forced to
keep quiet. A council doomed him to death, but
he begged so piteously, swearing by all that he
held sacred that he would not reveal their con-
dition nor whereabouts, that they released him.
He immediately hastened to his companions
with the intelligence, thus stimulating the pur-
suit. Day after day, however, they eluded their
hunters. and had it not been for the condition
of Jim Younger. all of them might have made
their eScape. crippled and wounded as they
were. It was impossible to stop the flow of
blood from the wound in Jim’s mouth, and he
became so weak that the others had to carry
him. Even then it was not until fourteen days
after their raid on Northficld that they were
captured. Had tney dispensed with their usual
tactics of whooping and discharging their is—
tols, all of them might have left North eld
without wounds, and it is safe to say that in this
event all would have escaped. Even wounded
as the remnant of the band was, all could have
made good their escape if they had been willing
to desert Jim Younger. At the final charge of
McDonald’s posse of about one hundred men
upon them they fought until Charlie Pitts was
killed, Bob Younger knocked down bya rifle
ball, and Cole wounded seven times and his res
volvers empty. He then threw up his hands,
and his captors treated them like brave men.
There was no abuse, no threats. but everything
was done to palliate their sufferings. Cole is
said to have told a friend that he fired every
shot right into the crowd in less than fifty yards
without killing a man, though his pistols had
never failed him before at double the distance.
Then, he said, he knew his race was run; it was
fate. The three brothers, men of more than
ordinary intelligence, culture and ce, are
now confined in the Stillwater Penitentiary un-
der life sentences.

 

TO LEONA.

BY 8. S. KELLER.

 

In sweeter son than poets sung before,

Fond fancy 119 my heart with subtle bliss.
From harp and lyre with richest note in store

To win a word in fond return for this.
Then turn thine eyes from me not far away,

But let me win one look to lock within my heart;
I’d cherish it by night and by all time of day,

Its sweetness nevermore from me to part.

How have I felt my heartstrings tremble wild,
When fond anticipation held for me in kee

A hope to know thee better, thou who smil ,
And left my soul a sweetness fair to reap.

When moonbeams flood the earth with silver light,
And star-eyes shine from out the dome above.

Then fills In heart with fondest rapture's might,
And my w ole being feels the touch of perfect love.

Alas! I know thee not. yet fondly gaze
Upon thy face, thy form and grace combined:
I dare not hope that in fair future days,
I may permit the soul-strings of my mind
TO pour their music out for t we alone—
To tell thee how I love, and loving. learn
To silence tongue beneath the colder tone
Of friendship’s guise. so meaningless and stem.

Red Righard;

The Brand of the Crimson Cross.

 

A Romance of Californian Mining Life.

 

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN,

AUTHOR or “ OVERLAND KIT,” “TALBOT or CIN-
NABAR,” “ GOLD DAN.” “ WITCHEs OF
NEW YORK.” “ BAT OF THE BAT-

TERY,” “RED ARROW,

THE WOLF-DEMON,”

ETc., ETC.

CHAPTER XX.
THE DUEL.

THE duelists were arranged in two parallel
lines, running from the river, on the open plain
just above the camp.

At a safe distance from the scene of action,
but in a direct line with the center of the s ace
that separated the contending parties, stoo the
alcalde, who had been selected to give the signal
for the duel to commence, and behind him were
grouped the citizens.

And while the duelists were taking their
places there was some little chaffing indulged
in by these grave, rough—looking, bearded men.

A most decided sentiment prevailed in favor
of Red Richard’s party, and the Californian
was considerably nettled by the unguarded ex—
pressions that the citizens indulged in regard—
ing his police.

“I Ity the poor shoats,” said one; “ w’ot
show 0 they stand in this hyer ruction?”

“A show to be chawed up,” suggested an-
other.

“That red-ha’red cuss could clean out the hull
b’iling himself, I reckon, if he got a good ready
onto him,” remarked another.

“ Oh, it’s ten dollars to one that the alcalde’s
galoots will be cleaned out!” exclaimed a rough
fellow, apparently indifferent whether the Cal-
ifornian overheard him or not.

“ Do you hear the infernal hounds?” muttered
the alcalde to the chief of police, who stood by
his side. “Do you hear them, and after all I
have done for the camp too? I have spent my
money like water, and this is the way I am re-

aid. I don’t believe that there is hardly a man
in the crowd who wouldn’t be glad to see my
men killed by these rufflans.”

“ I am afraid, alcalde, that is about the size
of it. Thar’s no denyinfi this red-ha’red cuss
has captured the town. ut I’ll jest put a stop
to that feller that wants to bet ten to one, ’cos
I reckon our boys stand a better show than
that. Red Richard is a tearer, I’ll allow, but I
don’t take much stock in his pards; and count-
ing him out, I know our gang could flax ’em.
That Long John is no good in a fuss, the big fel-
ler is a wind—bag, and whoever heered of a red-
skin that war wuth his salt in sich a fight as
this hyer? If they kin only down the sharp,
and they are all going for him at the first pop, I
reckon they’ll have an easy job to git away with
the rest.”

“ No doubt about that; if they plug him the
battle will be won.”

“ Yes, sir—ee !” cried another man in the crowd
atthis point, “it’s twent to one ag’in’ the al-
calde’s gan i That Re Richard is jist light-
ning, and t em four don’t stand any more
chance to get away with him than they do to
make the water in that ’ere river run up—hill.”

This was more than the chief of police could
bear.

“See hyer, I reckon you’re shooting yer
mouth off pretty lively, ain’t you i” be ex-
claimed. “ NOW if you are talking for business
and not for fun, if you are willing to come right
down to the bed-rock, I’m the man for your

 

 

money! My men out thar are as good men as
ever struck this camp, bar none! I’ll go you
one ag’in’ twenty that they won’t be skinned!
I’ll take that up, jest for greens. This Red
Richard is a good man and all that, but he ain’t
the earth, and he don’t Own it. Come now,
how big a pile will you go? I‘ll risk fifty to a
hundred on it. Back your words up now with
your dust!”

But this was exactly what the loud-talking
individual could not do. His wealth was lim-
ited, although his ideas were great and he was
obliged to admit that he was not well heeled for
betting just then.

So it was an easy matter for Benefast to turn
the laugh upon him.

“ I reckoned you wouldn’t come to the scratch
when time was called,” he remarked, contempt-
uously. “ Men who talk so big generally go
broke when the time comes for them to put up
their dust, but when I blow my horn, there‘s
something back of it. you can bet your life! I am
jest anxious to lose a leetle money on this pic-
nic, for I’ve got a heap sight more than I know
what to do with. I‘ll bet any man within the
sound of my voice one against ten—one against
five—even—on my cro“ d 1”

At this point Joe Bowers pushed his way
through the crowd, his fist full of bank bills.

The veteran, after being abandoned by his
supporters in consequence of the attack of the
police, not being in a condition to keep upon his
legs had sunk down against the side of the
house, and beinga man that could make himself
comfortable anywhere. dropped quietly to
sleep, despite the noise of the battle.

Some one had taken the trouble toawaken
him on the eve of the fight, thinking it a pity
that he should miss such a glorious spectacle as
this duel promised to be, and therefore Bowers
had arrived on the scene of action just in time
to hear the chief of police banter the crowd.

“ I’m yer man, Timotheus!” he howled.
Bowers had been sobered in a measure by his
nap, although he was still a little unsteady on
his feet.

“I’m yer man,” be repeated. “You are off
your base, me noble dook, fur to want to bet
even, when it ought to be big odds. 'You are a
friend of mine and I hate to scoop you, but biz
is biz, you know. This red-hair cuss is a terror!
I’m a heap on the fight myself, but i wouldn’t
want to stand up ag’in’him, ’less I had an army
at my back.”

The alcalde was nettled at the idea of one of
his own men, as he considered Bowers, daring
to lift his voice in behalf of the stranger.

“See here, Bowers, you talk too much!” he
exclaimed, “and you are not in a fit condition
now to make any bets. You better go home, go
to bed and sleep off the effects of the liquor you
have drank!”

“ Why, alcalde. I hain’t been h’isting enough
fur to hurt a sick cat l” BOWers exclaimed, re-
proachfully. “Don’t go fur to think that I’m
full of fire-water ’cos I ain’t; I’m a leetle excited
’bout this hyer thing, that’s all.”

“They’re waiting on you, alcaldel” cried one
of the citizens, anxious for the “ fun” to com-
menpe.

Sure enough the duelists were in position,
read for the si al.

“ you al ready, gentlemen?” the Cali—
fornian cried.

“ Ready 1” replied all the antagonists in a
breath.

Up went the alcalde’s arm, and “ crack” rung
out the pistol-shot, and the march of the an-
ta onists toward each other began immediately.

hen ten or fifteen steps had been taken, at
a word from Red Ric ard his line halted,
brought up their left arms as supports and took
deliberate aim resting their pistols upon them.

The police, not up to this mountain dodge,
were taken by surprise, and fearing the conse-
quences of the deliberate aim that their antag-
onists were taking, at once poured in a volley
upon them; eight shots they fired, and the re-
sult astonished the lookers-on. Every shot
seemed to have told.

Red Richard and his companions staggered
back, went down upon their knees and then
rolled over, apparently badly hit.

Cries of astonishment arose from the crowd
of citizens.

“ Durned if they ain’t wiped out t’other gang
at the first lick!” the chief of police cried.

“At last!” the alcalde exclaimed, in a tone of
savage delight, and yet he could hardly believe
it possible that he had compassed the death of
his foe thus easily.

“They’re done for, as sure as you’re born!”
howled an excited citizen.

“ Nary time!” yelled Bowers, equally as loud.
“ Stranger! I tel ye thar’sa heap 0’ fun in those
galoots yet!"

And the police themselves were so much
amazed at the complete success of their fire,
that they halted irresolutely for a moment, and
then one of them, more bloodthirsty than his
fellows. cried out:

“This fight is to the death, boys! let‘s sail in
and put an end to ’em—put ’em out of their
misery, you know!"

This horrible proposition was received with
savage joy by the comrades of the speaker, hot
with the rage of battle; with brandished wea-
pons they rushed upon their prostrate foes, but
when they had got within fifty fee: of the spot
where they had gone down, 11 on their knees
rose all of the four, moving as if by clock-work,
and before the astonished assailants could com-
prehend what it meant the sharp cracks of four
revolver-shots rung on the air.

Each marksman had icked his man, and
each bullet reached its bil et.

Red Richard dropped his foeman with a bul-
let in the temple, Long John had aimed for the
heart of his antagonist, but the ball had gone
an inch or so wrong and tore through the lungs.

The Indian, a dead-shot with any and every
wea u, had sent his bullet crashing through
the rain of his 0 ponent.

The-Man-from- d—Dog, the poorest marks-
man of the three pards, had aimed for the chest,
and succeeded in lodging a ball in the man’s
shoulder.

Never was there a victory more complete or
more unexpected.

It all took place in asecond as it were: in one
breath, yells of triumph, as the policemen
rushed in to dispatch their foes, and in the
next, the notes Of victory changed into hollow
groans as the assailants went down before the
deadly fire of their antagonists.

The trick had succeeded to perfection; three
of the policemen lay dead upon the field, while
the fourth was so badly wounded that whether
he would live or die was a question time alone
could decide.

For a moment the alcalde glared upon the
scene, and then, sick with rage, turned away.

“This man is a devil,” he said, hoarsely, in
Benefast’s ear. “and I begin to believe that it
is either his life or mine!” and then he strode
from the scene.

“ The alcalde will have to get a new police
force,” one Of the citizens remarked.

CHAPTER XXI.
A SURPRISE.

THE stirring events of the night did not ef-
face from Red Richard’s m mory the mys-
terious message which he had received, and he
was prompt in kee ing the appointment, on the
next morning, alt ongh there was a doubt in
his mind when he set out in regard to what was
before him.

That the alcalde was determined to have his
life or drive him from the town he knew full
well, but, so far, he had most decidedly the
best of the fight, and he felt about as well as he
ever did in his life as he went along, enjoying
the balmy morning breeze, laden with the bal-
samic odor of the pines that clothed the neigh-
boring foot-hills.

The sharp had overheard the remark uttered
by the old miner in regard to the alcalde being
obliged to get a new set of policemen, and it
amused him.

“Truth, every word of it, too,” he solilo—
quized, as he walked toward the meeting—place.
“The police force is cleaned out—most effec-
tually cleaned out, and after what has hap-
pened I fancy the alcalde will have consider-

 

 

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him r , ,  l u...

able difficulty in raising another, for by all ac-
counts these fellows were the greatest bullies in
the town, and if that gang of tough citizens
couldn’t hold their own what earthly show is
there for a new set? I must be on my guard
more than ever from this time out, for now
that open force has failed my man will be apt
to try if there is any virtue in secret mea-
sures.

“This may be a trap that I am going into
now, but I’ll risk it, for I don’t think it is like-
ly. The best card he had in his hand he played
last night, and from the way the game was laid
out, I reckon he thought it would finish me be-
yond a doubt.

“Twelve against one was pretty big odds,
and I should. undoubtedly, have had a hard
time of it if it hadn’t been for my pards and
the miners taking a hand in the affair, and that
is where the schemer didn‘t get his work in
fine: if he had been smart he would have tried
to get at me alone. He couldn’t have succeeded
in that little game, though, for my boys are
always within call: still, as it was impossible
for him to know that fact. it shows that his
head piece is not as good as it is cracked up to
be, or else he would have worked the game so
as to catch me alone.”

As he finished the sentence he passed around
a bend in the trail and came upon The-Man—
from—Red-Dog, who was seated upon a bowlder
by the road-Side, pulling away at a pipe of gi—
gantic dimensions, and as neither Red Richard
nor Dandy Jim manifested any surprise at what
appeared to be an unexpected meeting. it was
plain that the two were acting in concert.

“ Well, seen anything?” queried the sharp.

“ Nothing bigger’n a jack rabbit.”

“I’m a little ahead of time, but I came early
on purpose to see the lay of the ground.”

“ It’s all right, pard; thar’s nobody in ahead
of ye yet.”

“ Seen Mud Turtle if"

“ Nary time, but he’ll be on deck, you bet!”

“Our heathen friend up to the mark 3"

“I reckon he is, but I ain’t seen him. He
allowed last night though that he’d be on time:
and I tell you you kin put yer money w ith perfect
safety on that almond eyed son of sin; he’s lit-
tle but he’s tough! I onc’t used for to think that
thar warn’t no fight inter a John, but that ’ere
leetle yaller cuss kin r’ar up onto his hind legs
an‘c‘llléick like a mule whep he’s drawn inter it."

eep yer e es 0 n!’

“You bet!” y pe

And then Red Richard sauntered away, leav-
ing the giant to enjoy his pipe.

A hundred yards further on, the trail bent
from the river and ran over a little grassy pla-
teau with a few small clumps of bushes scat-
tered here and there.

“This would be a fine s ot for a sharp to cor-
rala fellow that he didn t like,” Red Richard
remarked as he hesitated for a moment and
glanced around with the distrust that becomes
like a second nature to a man used for years to
the wild life of the frontier.

Out from one of the clumps of shrubbery
peered the grinning face of Lee Sing.

“ Allee light—no sawey ’Melican man top side
hillee.” ‘

“Nobody around, eh? I guess everything is
all right then.”

“Allee light, you bet!” and down sunk the
Chinaman in his ambush again.

On went the sha ; a few rods more and the
trail sought the river’s bank; he was at the
place designated for the meeting.

Not a living thing was in sight.

It was alittle grassy plain, cut in twain by
Shaster’s swift flowing waters, and from the
banks of the river the ground rose gradually
until it met the foothills a mile or so distant,
and then the rocky mountain sides hemmed in
the valley.

Great b0wlders cropped out here and there
and about fifty feet from where the sharp halted
there was a little cluster of rocks, and some
thing peculiar about this cluster attracted Red
Richard’s quick eyes.

He laid his hand upon one of the revolvers in
his belt, and as he did so a marvelous thing took
place.

One of the rocks—an irregular. jagged stone
—suddenly became instinct with life.

It moved—it transformed itself into the figure
of a man—it was the Indian, Mud Turtle, who
had been squatting down amid the bOWlders
with his discolored blanket wrapped around
him, and so artisticallv had be arranged the
blanket and chosen his position that, at a dis-
tance, only the practiced eyes of an experienced
scout, like Red Richard. would have been able
to detect the cheat.

“ By Jove! chief, that was about as clever a
thing as I ever saw!” the sharp exclaimed. “If
I hadn’t been on the lookout for mischief. I
should never have detected there was anything
wrong, and I reckon I’m no child in prairie
matters.”

A pleased expression appeared on the face of
the redskin: there was no one else in the world
whose praise would have had any effect upon
him, but a single word from the l'edhaired
sport was more to him than the applause of a
multitude.

“Mud Turtle no fool." the savage replied,
“ although it is many moons since be dug up the
war-hatchet, sharpened the scalping—knife, and
followed the trail of an enemy.”

“ You haven’t forgot your ancient cunning,
that’s apparent. Any signs?”

The Indian shook his head.

“Then it's to be a square deal, after all, al-
though I must say I had serious doubts about it.
I reckoned it might be another wise little device
that the alcalde was working up for my particu-
lar benefit. His bullies have failed so badly at
a square deal, that I thought he might try to
ring in a ‘cold deck’ upon me.”

The Indian shook his head again.

“ Nobody been along the trail since the moon
went down.”

As the reader will perceive from the inter-
views that Red Richard had held with his pards
he had taken every possible precaution against
being caught in a trap.

if the design of the sender Of the message
had been to lure him into an ambush. his com-
panions would speedily have discovered any—
thing like an ambuscade, and by the time the
sharp arrived upon the field they would have
been prepared to turn the tables upon their op—
ponents and administer to them a most terrible
thrashing.

The Indian held up his hand suddenly, than
sprung to his feet and stood in a listening atti-
tude.

Red Richard understood that some distant
sound had fallen upon Mud Turtle’s ears, which
his own, though remarkably acute, failed to
catch.

“ Horse!" ejaculated the Indian.

“ Probably my man."

“ Galloping."

“Yes, he is behind time.”

And now the sharp could distinguish the sound
of a horse’s hoofs in the distance, coming from
the west instead of the east as the sport had
expected.

“ That’s the wrong direction, chief,” Red
Richard remarked. “My arty ought to come
from Shasta Bar instead 0 Cinnabar City: al-
though, really, that is only an idea of mine, for
as I haven’t the slightest suspicion in regard to
who it was that sent the communication, the
sender is just as likely to come from one place
as the other. There seems to be only a Single
horse.”

“One, no more.”

“ Get to cover and take position to the west.
Red-Dog is guarding the east, and the heathen
commands the foot-hills. Nary a surprise party
can be worked nohow they can fix it.”

The Indian grunted, and then retreating to
the rocky ledge, where he had been squatting,
disappeared behind the bowlders.

Red Richard made a rapid examination of his
revolvers, so as to be sure they were in work-
ing order, for he felt satisfied that the new-
comer was far more apt to prove a foe than a
friend.

Then, seating himself upon a projecting rock.
he calmly waited for the approach of the rider.

The sound of the horse’s hoofs grew more and ,

 

more distinct, and soon around the bend in the
trail came Carlotta, the daughter of 0121 Colonel
Perkins, mounted on a handsome brown horse
whose slender legs and fine proportions plainly
betrayed that it was a thoroughbred.

_ A slight expression of amazement assed rap-
idly over the face of the sharp as he eheld this
unexpected sight.

Straight toward Red Richard she rode and
did not draw rein until she came up to him.

There was an earnest, wishful look upon her
face as she halted by his side, the sharp rising
at her approach.

For a moment she surveyed him in silence,
and then a puzzled expression crept over her
features.

_ “I am the person that sent you the message,
Sir,” she said. “ I thought I knew you, and yet,
now that we are face to face, I begin to doubt
the correctness of my judgment, but I have
something important to say to you, neverthe-

ess.

“ Would it not be better then to retire to a
spot less public, for here on the trail we are lia-
ble to be interrupted?"

(T: be continued—commenced in No. 23.)

 

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BILL TANNER, CHIEF.

av asss’ C. COWDRICK.

 

 

In the wildest of wild western towns
Way up in the wilds of Montana,
Merry and gay,
Singing all day,
There lived a fair maiden named Hannah.

And likewise in this wild western town, N
In love with this fair maiden “ Haniier,
Hearty and strong,
Toiliiig along,
Lived also a miner named Tanner.

And thus up in this town of the West
This man and this maid loved each other;
Happy were they,
Merry all day,
Till came there of lovers another.

And not only one other, but tzco ”
Came courting this fair maiden “ Hanner,
Each one a chief
Armed to the teeth,
They soon from his claim ousted Tanner.

Then resolved they to fight for her hand
In the reg’lar Wlld western manner;
Both blazing away
Fell in the fray

And again cleared the cohst for young Tanner.

For great shots were both of these men,
And each took good aim at the other;
Right in the eye,
Plumb as a die,
They put bullets into each other.

But more potent by far than these two,
Another man came to see “ Hanner ";
Big Injnii he—
Awful to see,
And straightwaylic challenged young Tanner.

Now, no fighter was Tanner at all,
Yet his love for the maiden was great;
So he led the way
On the same day .
Where the others had met their sad fate.

“ These heur pilgrims,” said he to his foe
“ Both fell in love with m Hanner;
You see their ate!
G0 are too late
Or I'll serve you in the same manner."

Then the man looked around at the dead;
The holes in the eyes made him wonder;
“ This is done fine:
Not any in minel
You're welcome to Hanner, by thunder!"

In this wildest of wild western towns
Still lives this young miner named Tanner;
“ Great Chief ” is he;
All do agree
He’s the monarch of all wild Montana.

For such shooting had never been seen,
And all thought it done by voung Tanner;
He said not “ nay, ’
And to this day
He lives all serene with is “ Hanner."

 

Around the Camp-Fire.

BY CAPTAIN RINGWOOD.

 

 

Old Kerg Bartlett and his “ Pambly.”

“ OLD Knee BARTLETT an’ his four bi;
boyees wur a bad lot of ever thar war one bu
game; why, the didn’t know nuthin’ but light
an’ when they id go in, sumbody wur bouiu.
ter 't hurt.”

0 d Bed—he was never known by anothm
name even if he had one, which some cousin
ersd doubtful—was just on the point of telliii;
a lot of the boys one of his “recollections,” 0
which he had a seemin 1y inexhaustible stor‘
accumulated during a life of more than fort
years on the border. N

“It ar’ now upward of fifteen years sence i
see old Ker last, an’ 1 hopes it'll be fifty mor.
afore I sees 'm a ’in.”

“ Yer don’t seem ter like thet old cuss, Red,‘
said one of the party.

“ No, Idoosen’t; nor would you of you wu!
in my place. ’Twur in ’39, I b’leeve, thet I firs
hearn tell uv him. Jim Curtis an’ me wur a
Calhun, an’ thar wur a great takin’ on ‘bou'
sum deviltry thar fambly hed been up to,
They lived over in the Pawnee kentry, sum
mers on Loupe Fork, an’ these fellers at th.
fort war goin over to clean old Kerg’s rancl,
out.

“ Wal, they went—Jim an’ me wouldn’t—an‘
they kim back a day er two arterward tht
wust—whipped set ye ever see in yer life.

“Three uv the party staid behind whar the
scrimmage had took place.

“The next year Jim an’ me started fur the
trappin’ season from Randal, further up the
river, an’ hearin’ thet beaver war plenty over
in the Marshy Lake kentry, we made fur thet
p’int an’ druv stakes.

“Sum uv you fellers thet have been thar
knows that the north fork of the Pawnee Loupe
rises sumwhar in the hills a leetle south’ard uv
the Manhy Lake; an’ ’twur on this hyar very
fork, only a good stretch below, that old Kerg
an’ his happy fambly hed thar ranch.

“But me an’ Jim teetotally forgot thet sar-
cuinztance, an’ jess went to work on the flat-
tails, keepin’ one eye 0 n fur Pawnees an’
t’other fur biziness. We ed a powerful streak
o’ luck.

“I never see beaver so plenty nor so easy
ketched. Thar warn’t a mornin’ but more’n
half the traps wur full, an’ me an’ Jim wur
calksrlatin’ on a big thing, when all uv a sud-
dent our good fortin’ took a twist, an’ darn the
beaver we see fur a week arterwards.

“They wouldn’t take the bait no way we
could fix it, or of they did, they took the’rselves
of! with it.

“ One night Jim sez to me, sez he, ‘ Red, I’m
a ‘ ~gur of I don’t b’leeve somebody’s a-cleanin’
thglgraps.’

“ The idea made me fa’rly jump, an’ arter
talkin’ awhile we determined to watch thet
night. ’Twur a good night fur the biziness, not
too dark, nor too light, but jess atween the two
like, ye know.

“ Jim, he took the upper lot, an’ I took t’other,
layin’ behind a goodish-sized rock from whar I
could see mostly all over.

“ Two or three times, long to’ard day, I
kinder thought as how I see a shadder movin’
slowly along the bank uv the crick, sumtimes
lookin’ as big es a boss, an’ then ag’in disap-
pearin’ es of it hed gone suddently into the
airth.

“ I ain’t no hand fur b’leevin’ in sperrits, an’
so I pulled back the hammer uv the old ea-
shooter, an’ waited till I war sartin the sha der
wur arter the pelts.

“Jess then I heard the snap uv a trap a leetle
further up the crick, an’ I know’d a flattail wur
in its grup.

“ The shadder must ’a’ heard it, too, fur 011' it
started, an’ purty soon back it kim, carryin’ a
wh 'ppin’ big beaver in his hand.

“ Now, boyees, you see thet wur nigh sartin
proof ag’in’ the shadder and so, waitin’ till it
gets right cfore whar I lay behind the rock, I
draws a close bead, an’ lets it have a half-ouncer
smack into its big karkass.

“You oughter see that shadder double up.
Down he went all uv a heap, but fetchin’ a
whoop afore he went under, thet I raily do
b’leeve could ’a’ been heard five mile, an'
which brought Jim Curtis over in less’n no
time.

“The chap I hed rubbed out wur a Whopper,
six foot four of he wur a inch, an’ stout—why,
he could ’a’ out’rastled a grizzly in fa’r fight.
He wur a ugly cuss, too, es ever I see, an’
armed up to the chin.

“ ‘Hyar’s the bad luck, Red,’ sez Jim, givin’
the shadder a kick with his foot.

“ ‘ Yes, thet’s him,’sez I, an’ es Iturned roun’
ter pick up the beaver the feller hed dropped, I
see three more uv the shadders a-makin’ fur
whar me an’ Jim stood.

“They wur purt clos’t onto us store I see’d
’em, but they hadn t diskivered us yet because
uv a big rock thet lay kinder atween us.

“ My rifle warn’t loadened, an’ seein’ I
wouldn’t hev time ter fodder her, I Whispers
to Jim thet we’d better make tracks fur the
ranch.

 

the shadders kim up to whar the dead ’un lay,
an’ thar we halted a bit to listen. I

" Lordyl what a lot uv cussin’ an’ howlin’ an’
slashiu’ around.

“ ’Twurn’t long afore we found out who the
cuss wur thet we hed rubbed out, an’ when we
knowed that it wur one uv old Kerg Bartlett’s
boys, we see in a minit thet thar war a-goin’ ter
be trouble.

“ We watched the others tote off the dead
’un, an’ then we made fur the ranch.

“ ‘This ar’ wuss nor Pawnees, Red,’ sez Jim,
‘an’ I tell you, we’ve got ter do su’thin’, either
fight it out or cut sumwhars else.’

“ ‘ Which’ll it be, Jim!‘ sez I.

“ ‘ Fight ’em, an’ be durned to the greasy
karkasses,’ sed Jim, savage es s meat-ax.

“ "Nufl' sed,’ sez I, an’ with thet we begin ter

git reddy fur the squall thet wur sartin ter
come ’long ’bout daylight, which wurn’t fur
off.
“Our ranch wurn’t much to speak of in the
way uv a fort. A passel uv goodish‘sized logs,
a wheen uv rocks an’ the like wur all, but then,
you see, thar war me an’ Jim Curtis inside, an’
yer kin bet high thet thet war sum’thin’.

“ ‘Hyar thev come,’ sed Jim, who was peek-
in’ out uv a hole in the side frontin’ the crick.
‘ Four uv ’em, Red, an’ I reckin thet old Kerg
hisself are one uv ’em.’

“ ‘ Ef old Kerg ar’ thar then thar’ll be hot
work afore we’re done,’ sez I, gettin’ to anuther
hole.

“Shure snuff thar they war, all the fambly
’cept the cuss I hed rub ed out, an’ the way
they kim up showed thet they war sp’ilin’ fur
a fi ht

“gAbout the time they got in range they all
took cover, an’ begin jumpin’ from tree ter tree
an’ so on till they’d got up to the edge uv the
little clearin’ whar the ranch stood.

“ ‘ Hullo! the house!’ shouted old Kerg, his-
self.

“ Hullol’ sez I.

“Hold er fire an’ let’s parley,’ sez he.

“All right, but keep t’others off. No dodg-
in’,’ sez I a ’in.

“With thet the old cuss stepped out from be
hind his tree an’ walks right up to the door.

“ ‘ Ar’ you a-goin’ to open?” he sed.

“ ‘ Not no great deal, we ain’t. What do yer
want?’ spoke 11 Jim, sorter savage like. ‘Keep
yer eye peele over thar, Bill,’ sez he, an’ the
other feller thet warn’t thar answered, ‘ All

you.
in ther open.

“ We soon seo‘d how it wur.
“ This hyar part war from Randal, an

they went for clean him out.
trail an’ follered up to whar we war.

stole all ther horses an’ cattle.
“ Thet’s the reason why they war arter him.

wheen o’ trouble arterwards.
an’ Jim kinder thought es how we

well in savin’ our own ha’r.
“ What do ’66 think, boyees?”

 

 

Days in Dixie.

“ A Courtin’.”

IT is seldom that one witnesses anything of
the kind, and when they do, they oug t, out of
consideration for the uninitiated of both sexes,
to give them the benefit of what they have
learned.

No other earthly consideration could induce
us to add to the enormity of laying the eaves-
dropper, that of making public the sacred utter-
ances of a confiding heart.

We were with Jenks that evening; and had
returned, or rather were returning from a pull
on the lagoon. Somewhat fatigued, and not
knowing of anything especially tempting at our
lodgings, we threw our weary forms upon the
ground, a few yards from the landing, b the
edge of the fringe of mangroves that bar ered
the bank.

But a few paces from us was a fallen cypress,
once the monarch of the coast, and whose re-
cumbent form was the most famous trysting-
place in that region. Its upturned roots formed

 

 

 

right,’ so naterally, thet I wish I may drap in

awr- v_ a I

   

‘. ‘ -'   ‘> 
\ - ’ . ’,/ "

“ Seats beneath their shade.
For talking age and whispering lovers made."

        

//' ‘

in’ tracks fur the hills purty lively now I tell
Not all uv ’em, fur the hed fetched
anuther, who lay dead as a gun- ar’l right out

’mong ’em war sum ellers thet old Kerg an’ his
boyees hed thrashed the summer afore, when

“They hed gone over to the old rip’s cabin,
an’ findin’ the fambly abstent, they took thei-

“Old Kerg hed been up to sum uv his devil-
try—murdered a old man an’ his darter, an’
“ lVell, the old man an’ one uv the boyees got

cl’ar off—wuss luck fur me fur he ive me a
,

“ We lost our ranch an’ all the pelts, bu " me
done purty

voce.

tintive.

“ ’Bout what heft wou
,

I never gits no lower’n a
summer.” Again she pa
companion ter be tall ’n

swer,

“Jes’ m hight to a
commodating candidate
ors.

“Oh, thar’s hea
take up with yer,
to know hit. But the ri
she is foun’, ain’t ter be
over.”

that she ain’t nowa
nat’ral you should

5 dis
reeze

“ Jes’ sol”
“ An’ heft—”
“ Jes’ so!”

“ I ruther think,” be

ed.
“Hit makes all ther
Ca’line, emphatically.

servation.

trophe.
“An’ thar hain’t no
tinned.

 

At that moment, old
proached the opening.

  
  
   

r
.J

“ Out we went, jess in time ter see a. lot ov fellers arter the Bartlett fambly.”

“ Oh, you hadn’t?” muttered Jenks, sotto
. Again the lady was compelled to take the ini-

" Rangin’ an whar from hunderd an’ thirty

ter hunderd an fifty,” said Bob.

“ In winter I gits up ter the highest figur’, an’
er

heft, I shouldn’t wonder?”
“No higher nor five foot four,” was the an-

“But somehow I don’t know,” began Mr.
Battle, in a hesitating manner.
His assailant was quick to observe this, and
to counteract any symptoms of flag ing.
would be rig t glad tor
know jist es well as I want

“ I don’t reckon she’d like it,” said Bob.
We mentally agreed w;th him.
“ But when you has come ’crost her, an’ ses’d

“Yo-e-esl” This time, still more hesitating—

y.
“ An’ when she’s the right hight—”
This in a slightly troubled tons.

He was plainly getting alarmed at this.

“ An’ she’s allei's lived hyer till yit—”

an the wretched man.
“ An’ don’t car’ ter live nowhere else—”

“ Hit do make a dif’runce,” he faintly conced-

“ Mos’l y,” was the doomed wretch’s faint rs-

“ He's goingto capitulate,” said J enks, almost
rismg to his feet, as if to prevent such a catas-

“ I hain’t counted on none,” he said, shortly.
man Givins softly ap—

my tracks ef I didn’t think thar war anuther.
’Twur Jim, you know, makin’ b’leeve thar war
three on us.

“ ‘ How menny uv ye ar’ thar in thet cabin?’
sed old Kerg.

“ ‘ You’ll think thar’s a thousand ef yer
tackle it ’ says Jim.

“ ‘ We 1, it don’t make no matter,’ sed Kerg;
‘what I wants to know is, why the blazes did
you shoot one uv my boys?’

“ ‘ ’Cause be war a durn’d, sneakin’ thief, an’
war cleanin’ our traps,’ sez Jim, in t’other man’s
voice.

“ ‘ It’s a lie,’ sed old Kerg, who war gittin’
mad by this time.

“You lie yerself, yer durned old hoss-thie-—’
“ ‘ Look out, Jim, hyar they comes!’ I yelled
out, loud es I could fur larfin’ at Jim, an’ sure
anufi’, they war, an’ in airnest. too.

“ ‘ Down with the old cuss, Red 1’ shouts Jim,
an’ I lets drive at ther vill’in, but ther rifle
throwed off on me, an’ flashed in ther pan. Jim
he throwed one uv ’em right in his tracks, an’
then they closed in on ther cabin, an’ begun
chop in’ the door.

“ e couldn’t manage to shoot, no way, fur
ye see we hedn’t left no loop-holes—a cussed
big mistake, boyees, which none uv ye must
never make.

“ Ther door war the stoutest part uv the old
shanty, an’ they soon guv it up, an’ I heard one
uv ’em say suthin’ ’bout fire.

“ ’Twarn’t long afore ther cabin war blazin’,
an’ when we see thet, Jim an’ me jest looked at
one anuther.

“ ‘ Goin’ under this time, Red,’ sez Jim.

“ ‘ Looks that way,’ I sez.

“ ‘ Bound to make a rush fur it,’ sed Jim, an’ I
see him look to the primin’ an’ loosen his knife.
“By thet time ther who e consarn war in a
bleeze, an’ I tell you, lads, it wur hot in thar.
The vill’ins, we knowed, hed treed right. in front
uv ther door, an’ thar they stood reddy to let
us hev it jess as soon es we kim out. ’Twur
light es day—in fuck, day had about broke,
but enyhow, the bleeze wur might bright.
“One uv us war bound ter go own at ther
first dash, mebbe both, an’ under sich sarcum-
stances things looked squall y.

“ Purty soon one eend uv the shanty drapped
in. an’ we see’d the dash hed ter be made right
off, er not a’tall.

“ ‘ eddy. Red!‘ sez Jim, cool an’ carm like.

“ ‘I be, Jim,’ sed I.

“ ‘ lVell, hyar goes— What ther blazes ar’
thet?’ sez Jim, sto pin’ an’ list’nin’.

“’Twur a lou yell, an’ then two er three
rifle-cracks, an’ then anuther scroughin’ yell,
seemin’ like a dozen er more.
“Jim throwed the door open, an’ out we
went. jess in time ter see a lot uv fellers kim up
in a hurry. an’ then take off, more’n half uv

 

“ Stoopin’ purty close we got to cover afore

 

  

    

w .-
IL),

’em, arter the Bartlett fambly, who were mak~

 

more in merryin’ nor dyin’ ’bout hyer, Mr

nex’ thing,’ suggested the sly spinster.

if the young lady WLuld make the next move.

She did it. da
1y s’lect fer yer companion?” she asked.
ways,” replied Mr. Battle.

I was borned, an’ 1 hain’t never hed no idee o’
livin’ nowhar else.”

 

At least, so said J enks; but J enks is nothing if
not poetic.

For once though, we saw the application of i
the quotation. Voices were heard. coming from ‘i
the vicinity of the prostrate monarch: one of 2
them, which we at once recognized, on C sharp; ,‘
the other, unquestionably, A flat. ,

It would have been a pity to disturb them. ,
So we thought; or, at all events, we acted on E
that assumption.

The hopes of the gushing Miss Ca’line Givins
had been so frequently blighted that we, and
Jenks particularly, were disposed to aid and .
abet any movement that seemed to promise
fruition. For the strident soprano tones. be it
Sigrid, were those of that sighing siren of Shake-

g

Her companion, we soon recognized from his
falsetto notes, as Mr. Bob Battle, a blushing
bachelor of forty, recently arrived in the neigh-
borhood, who had entered a whole section of
land, and was reputed to own “right smart o’
cattle.”

This was, as far as we knew, Mr. Battle’s
second meeting with the caressing Caroline.

While wishing Miss Givins, as by way of
courtesy, the weaker vessel, every success in a
general way, yet Bob was a man and a brother,
and we felt for him. Notwithstanding his war-
like appellation, it did seem a little uncertain
that he would be able to meet and van uish
such an old campaigner as the redoubtable e dest
daughter of “ old man Givins’s house and
heart.”

“I reckon ye’s done squatted hyer fer good,”
was the first remark which we distinctly caught
from the fair Ca’line.

We supposed at first that she alluded to his
position on the old cypress, but the reply did
away with that impression.

“I‘m gittin’ too old to move ag’in, I reckon.
Shouldn‘t wonder ef I decide ter make hit my
native place.”

“ It’s right smart healthy,” said Miss Givins.

“I hain’t see’d no dead folks till yit,” he an—
swered.

“ IVe don’t hev many mostly. Folks b'lieves

Battle.”
“ I don’t blame ’em, I’m sho’.”
“Mebbe ou’ll be thinkin’ o’ imertatin’ of ’em
“ I mought,”he agreed, laconically.
There was a pause, and we began to wonder
“ ’Bout what sorter lady would you mos’ like-

“ One that would be willin’ ter live here al-

“ I’ve lived in this hyer dead’nin’ ever sence

 

he returned to them.”
“ Then they have their ideas of funny things,
as well as other folks?”

One day some of the women of
the Tchoutchees—the nort

“ Hycr’s dad!” exclaimed the persistent dam-
“ You jes’ ask him, Bob!”
Bob hesitated—and was lost.

sel.

The next instant Ca’line
rectly across him.

“ Don’t send him away, dad 1” she pleaded.

“Durned of I do!”
compliant father.
shant
Yer
not, fur as I kin see.”

was

“ Oh, Lor’! so we will,” said the happy maid-
en, as she led poor Bob Battle, like a a
the slaughter, in the direction of the paternal

mansion.

 

 

The Tchouichees.

BY E. N. ENSIGN.

 

 

I RECENTLY encountered,

Capt. Berry of the U. S. navy, who was in com-
mand of the steam yacht Rodgers on her fatal
Arctic cruise in search of De Long. Of a very
conversation I took notes, and hope
end in giving you his statements re-
garding the savages of the Arctic region. K
“It is curious,” said Berry, “ this question of
18 have a notion that the
inned people all come from
tropical countries, but the natives of Peru are
the natives in Mexico were
light; then further north the Indians are still
darker, and when the Esquimaux
they are found to be much darker than the

interestin
I do not 0

color. Some peo
blacks and dark—s

not very dark;

North American Indians.”
“Yes; and, so far as an

have been in their cold country for thousands be

of years,” chipped in the companion.
“ or thousands of years—

evidenees that they came {I‘om still further

north.”

“ Do they seem to know anything about their

ancestors?
“Not much. They care

past or for the future. I tried to talk with them

about the skeletons of an

caves, but they seemed to know nothing about
them. They were wonder-stricken at the de-
he mammoth. some tusks of which
I brought away from Wrangel Island. One

scription of t

bright fellow saw us lookin
tures of animals, and he w
lig
own climate, and won

t‘

h, yes.

“Come right up ter the
an’ do yer cou’tin’ outen ther night a’r.
in git married nex’ week jes’ as well as

ould come day after
and ask to look at the book. He was de-
ted to look at the pictures of the bears of his
ld laugh immoderately as

ld ye choose her!”

hund an’ thirty in
used. “ Yer’d like or
ough ter kerry of! er

scratch,” said the no-
for matrimonial hon-

ght young lady, when
sneezed at, an passed

inclinated nother, hit’s
to her. ”

dif’runce,” said Miss

objection,” she con-

us
Ada

,d
[#9)
,fl/fl/
II
_.‘,-I./
i

.i,

1',

had flung herself di-

the rejoinder of the

mbto

in Washington city,

are reached
ybody knows, they

es; and there are

very little for the

imals found in the

g at a book of‘pic-

Paul?” asked one man of another.
was all things to all men, and you
to nobody!” was the reply.

complimentary thin
woman, as she won]
to bring her value up to $100,000.

me a woman ever had her dress-pocket
I don’t believe a thief could discover it.
I tried for two hours to discover the pocket of
one of my wife’s dresses, and had to give it up!

tion why ladies were
Chamber of Deputies, said that to be a member

this morning?”
the text, I’ve such a bad memor .”

said her mother, “ did you notice usan Brown?"
“ Oh, yes.

sect_ out and swore
Latin.

saw—were tellin me about expeditions the
made to find col ections of small roots whic

ly had been stolen. They laughed and
aughed, thinking it very funn

“Then these
vegetable sort to eat?”

‘ They get these little roots, which they steal
from the lemmings, and they save the seaweed

they find in the stomach of the seal and eat
that.”

I: Did they try to speak English words?”

The men—a few of them—would try though
none of them could speak a word which had
the sound if in it. They would speak my name
accurately—that is, the men would, but the wo—
men invariab y pronounced it as though it were
spelled Bezzy. ’

_ One fellow, the same one who came so many
times to see the pictures of animals, learned to
speak a rest many English words, but he
would fairly sweat under the difilculty of the
efforts when he tried to say “ flannel.”
would pick up words by asking as he came across
articles new to him, “ What’s name?” He could
say cotton, calico, and all the letters but the f’a
The nearest he could come to flannel was to say
d plannel,” using the p for f, as some children

0.

Ca tam Berry said this fellow never tired of
hand ing the compass and s y-glass, and he
learned to kn0w their uses with astonishing fa-
cihty. He was delighted when Berry promised
to send him one of each, and said that hunting
parties were sometimes lost because they lost
allidea in a storm as to which way the wars
gomg. The lass, he said, would help im to
tell whether t e black specks seen far away on
the me were seal or not, and save miles of walk-
ing. He Will get his compass and spy-glass when
the Whalers go north in the spring.

Captain. Berry related how the two boys of

this particular Tchoutchee were ver polite
little fellows, and would always rise w en any
one not belonging to the family came in, and
he .said the people bad words of salutation
which they always used when they met. Hs
was surprised to find these evidences of polite-
ness among. people the most remote and isolated
from any eiVilizmg influences. The women, he
says, have some pride of dress, and so do the
men, though inside their houses they strip
down  one garment about the loins, taking
off their furs; and the women take pride in
keeping. their houses what they regard as clean,
though it would not pass for cleanliness any-
where else. They have no idea of accumulat-
ing for the future, and are rimitively com-
munistic about their food. If) one family has
meat and the other families in the villa e have
none, they all eat of the supply until it is gone
or they can get more, and if one village has
food and another none, the hungry ones come
over and eat with those who have something.
l‘hey live on from hand to mouth, and there
are evidences of annihilated villa es where, it
is reasonable to sup , something occurred
to prevent the getting of meat, and so all have
starved to deat .
It is no more than fair to state that these in-
teresting facts came out in a conversation in
which the narrator had no we icion that any
of . the incidents that he relat would get into
print, but they are none the less readable for
coming informally in this way.

 

 

Telephone Echoes.

BEAUTIFUL “calling ” cards—four kings and

an ace.

IT is asserted that the Chinese cannot whistle.

This proves the saying that a whistle cannot be

made from a pig tail.

.IT is now fashionable to name patent medi-

cmes after the saints. This is because the saint)

soon get those who take them.

“ IVHAT is the difference between me and St.
“ St. Paul

are nothing

CHAUCER parties are fashionable among

young girls in London society, but a Brooklyn
girl prefers a saucer—with strawberr ice-
cream, and another spoon with a mustache
ting opposite.

sit-

A RELIGIOUS exchange tells a story of a comet

player engaged by a Baptist Church, who lost

his p0s1tion by playing the well—known melody
“ Pull for the shore,” at the baptism of a num‘

ber of converts.

A PATIENT calculator has ascertained that
“ worth her weight in gold” is not the most
that can be said about a
have to weigh 300 pounds

“No, sir,” said the man, “you needn’t tell
icked.
know

A coun’mous Frenchman, in reply to a quss-

not admitted into .ths

it was requisite to be forty years of age and it
was impossible to find
reached that unseemly aga

any lady w 0 had

“ LOOK heah, Thomas Jefferson, dis heah’s a

nice time fo’ you to be gettin’ home,” growled
Aunt Polly, as her boy came in long after mid-
night.
dunno nuflin’.
darky’s hour is jes’ befo’ day !”

“ Oh, g’long!’ retorted Thomas, “ you

Habn’t you neber hearn dat do

SOME railroad emPloys a female switch-
ender. Those oflicia s are on the right track—

women are ahead of anything as switch-tenders,
as when they are on
OR, and _then they are always posted on the
proper time for trains, you know.

duty the switch is never

A DAY or two since a Duluth lady was passing

along the street when some fiend in an up r
window threw out 8.
her from head to feet.
from her face and neck, she turned to a crowd
Lof men, and with clinched teeth, aid:

goodness!
swear for me! Oh, please do

bucket of slops, delugin
Wiping the greasy stu

u

Won’t one of you "gentlemen please
i

“ MARY, my love, do you remember that text
“ No, papa, I never remembes'
is Mary n

‘ What a fright! She had on her last
ears bonnet done up in a pea-green silk, a
lack lace mantilla, brown gaiters, an imita-

tion Honiton collar, a lava bracelet, her old car-
drops, and such a fan!”

A BEE which accidentally gets into a cake

dough can be baked and come out alive, and the
man who ascertained this fact by get-ting into
his mouth at a wedding breakfast a piece of
cake containing one of the insects, was might-
ily surprised, and scared the landlady who sat
OPPOSlte to him into a fit by

the faces he made
ore he yielded to necesSity and took the in-
like a Greek, in vulgats

“ I’M going to a masquerade ball next week,”

said a bald—headed man to his friend, “and I
would like to have
choosing a costume. ’
pate before him, the adviser observed: “ You
want somethin
pose?”
you suggest!"
dress and a well—varnished head, and 'y0
a perfect egg-plant.”

ou advise me in regard to
Glancing at the shining

simple yeta propriate I su .
"Yes, ghat’s it, exact y. What’wou (1
“Well, all you need is a green

u 11 be

“MR. KATZ,” says a Philadelphia paper, “is

an accomplished lin ist, speaking several lan-
guages w1th easeangu
members of his family on the back fence, and
have no doubt as to the ease or fluency with
which the
ments. 6 never were able to undeistan any
of the languages in which they are so proficient,
and no respectable paper would care to publish
the language which their performince calls

fluency.” We have heard

indulge their linguistic accom lish-

 

hemmost people I

forth from the audience.

 

 

    

 

AV

 

 

 

 

 

“1;:

  
  

 

 
 

the rats or lemmings of that country dig and
gather in heaps for winter eating, and I asked
them what became of the rats after their sup-

that an bod
should ever think of the rat in t e transacytion;

people do get something of a

 

 

 

 

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