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“Boy! murderer of my father! do not touch me, for rather

OCEAN GUERRILLAS;

 
THE PLANTER MIDSHIPMAN.

A Ramance of Southern Shores and Waters in the Eighteenth Century.

BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAIIAM.

AUTHOR. or “MERLE, TIIE MUTINEER,” “MONTEZUMA, THE MERCILEss,” ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER V.
THE mnsnirMAN PLANTER.

'I‘mc home of Colonel Rupert Brandt was one of
the handsomest in the Crescent (‘ity, and with its
luxuries within and its grandeur without, one would
have believed it hard indeed for wretchedness to
enter there. ' _ '

A planter, dwelling upon the shores of Mississippi
Sound a cruel chain of circumstances had driven
the colonel to seek a home in the city, for one who
had been the. loved guest and trusted tutor of youn
Irving. and the lover of Maud Brandt, had mysteri-
ously disappeared one ni ht, and soon after a_des-

erate pirate, known as t e Sea Ghoul, was said to
Re none other than Bradford Carr the one who had
been so revered in that plantation ome.

Driven by the irate’s persecutions to seek a home
in the city, wit the capture of the buccancer
schooner, the man so cruell maligned had been
found in irons on board, whi e his captor. the real
pirate, was discovered to be a renegade planter and
a discarded lover of Maud Brandt, who had kidnap-
ped and impersonatcd the tutor to bring dishonor
upon him, and thus gain revenge upon the beauty
and heiress who had refused his love.

With this discovery joy had come again to rest
upon the hearts of the inmates of the Brandt Home-
stead and another cause of congratulation to them
was the breaking up by the boy yachtsman, Irving
Brandt. of the outlaw band known as the Smugglers
of the Rigoletts.

Several days after the scene between the Boy
Planter and Rita, the Smuggler Queen, in the cabin
of the outh’s yacht, Lady Maud, the Sea Ghoul
himself ad been captured 1n disguxse as a guest of
Colonel Brandt, and been taken to the City prison to
await his execution. .

One day as Irving Brandt was pacmg to and fro
upon the road piazza of the Villa, hIS_ eyes often
falling upon the lovely scene before him, and his
yacht lying at anchor in the river, his thoughts were
busy upon the exciting events of the past few
months, and he was trying to solve the mystery of
that scene which the darkness had so well shlelded
from View, when the frightened horses dashed to
death along the avenue, and were found the next
day at dawn in one muddled mass, their driver dead
beside them. and the strange woman, whom the
youth had placed in the vehicle, nowhere v1s1b1e.

 
What had caused that fatal wreck Irving could
not know, and where had gone that mysterious wo-
man, whether dead or seriously hurt, he was unable
to tell, and his face would darken and brows con-
tract as he in vain sought to solve the dread secret
of that night’s runaway.

Suddenly the rumble of wheels was heard along
the river avenue, and a carriage wheeled into the
drive leadinglinto the villa grounds.

Banishing is perplexing thoughts, Irving stepped
forward to greet the only occu ant of the vehicle,
a man in the uniform of a nava captain.

“ Ah, Master Irving, I am glad to ﬁnd you at
home, for my business is with you,” said the oﬁicer,
alightin from the carriage and grasping the
youth‘s and.

“Indeed, sir?" and the youth was evidently sur-
prised that the naval commandant of the port
should seek him out. .

But he invited him into the parlor, called for w1ne
and refreshments, and then, with considerable curi-
Osity awaited to know the nature of the business 1115
visitor had with him.

“ You know, my young friend, that after your
capture of the Sea Owl’s lugger some time ago, I
told you that you would soon wear an epaulet?”

“ Yes. sir: you were good enough to say so." _

“Well, my words have come true, for I received
some oﬁicial letters this morning, and among them
a warrant as a midshipman in the navy for one Irv-
ing Brandt, given for gallant services rendered at
sea although a boy planter only, and not_1n servwe,
an I am instructed to order the said middy where
I deem best for duty,” and the omcer smiled. as he
saw how deeply impressed the youth was at his good
fortune, for he made several attempts to speak
without being able to do so. '

But conquering his emotion he at last said: _

“Captain Darcv, I owe this alone to your kind-
ness, and I do not deserve the honor, for Simplycap-
turing from the smugglers my own yacht which
they had taken from me.” _

“Well my Planter Midshipman, you have Since
capture the old Sea Owl Smuggler and all of his
ﬂeet, and that the Government is not yet aware of,
so you see you stand a chance of promotion al-
ready ?" I

“ No, sir, I did not ca ture the entire ﬂeet, for one
vessel, the Sea Owl, an said to be the swiftest craft

 
aﬂoat, is still free and may yet cause the Government
trouble.”

" Yes, I know that: but the backbone of the smug-
glers was broken, in the killing of their old chief. and
the capture of their ﬂeet, with the one exception,
and I will order you to go in chase of that craft, as
soon as your lugger yacht can be armed and man-
ned, and I will see to it, while you go at once upon a
special duty for the Government to Mobile.”

“With pleasure, sir, and shall I take the Lady
Maud?”

“ No, for, as I said, she shall be armed and manned;
but there is a large vessel that sails tonight, I learn,
and you can get passage upon her, and go quietly
about it for I do not wish your going known, as the
service send you on is of a secret nature.”

Irving Brandt signiﬁed a willingness to do all in
his power in the matter, and, with his full instruc~
tions in his pocket, stood upon the deck of the Vul-
ture that night as she swung free from her anchor-
age and headed down the river upon her voyage.

As he stood there he suddenly glanced down into
the cabin and started visibly, for there. in the broad
glare of the lamp, be beheld the Smuggler Queen.

“ Good heavens! I must not be seen by that wo-
man,” he cried, and watching an opportunity he
sought his state-room, and giving the steward a lib-
eral fee, told him that he would be compelled to keep
his state-room during the run to Mobile.

With a regret that the very liberal youth would be
caused to remain below decks, on account of sea-
sickness as be supposed. and promising to look after
his comfort, the steward left Irvin alone, with the
by no means pleasant reﬂection t at what he had
anticipated would be a most enjovable voyage,
would turn out an imprisonment in his state-room
for days.

CHAPTER VI.
WHAT FOLLOWED THE MUTINY ON THE VULTURE.

TRUE to his determination to remain concealed in
his state-room, Irving Brandt did so, the generously
paid steward seeming to alone know of his existence
on board the Vulture.

The vessel was a large barque, and a good sailer
and stanch craft; but, for some reason she was
strangely short of hands, and the captain could
count but half-a-score seamen to do the duty of
double that number.

At the very last moment some of the men had de-
serted the ship, and, forced to sail by his owner,
the captain had accepted the services or‘ a. young
man presenting himself as a mate, and had put to
sea with the few sailors under his command.

hat the young mate was Perdido, the money-
lender’s clerk, the reader is doubtless aware, and
having already bribed some of the men to serve
him and not their captain, he at once set to work
to win the others over to aid him in the seizure of
the vessel.

Knowing the value of the freight carried by the
Vulture, Rudolpho, the money-lender, had plotted
to secure the vessel's booty for himself; but with
his cunning clerk working in his own interests, and
having heard all that had been said between his em-
ployer and the Smug ler Queen, the lens of the
one had simply worke to the beneﬁt 0 the young
sailor who had so daringly determined to seize the
Vulture.

The barque’s captain found Perdido a good sea-
man, and one who seemed anxious to be constantly
upon duty. ‘

 
-. xv . . v s. ., a...“

But he little dreamed of the cause. of this zeal on
the part of his mate, who, one by one gained the
crew as his confederates in his intended lawless act,
until but two seamen, the cook and the cabin stew-
ard, alone remained true, and these Perdido dared
not approach.

Having laid his plans of action the mutineer mate
determined upon the seizure of the vessel, and the
night of the storm was selected as the one upon
which the Vulture should change masters.

At the helm Perdido placed two of his own men,
and then passed the word for his other fellow—mu-
tineers to come aft.

Standin near the helmsmen, clinging to the taff-
rail, was t e captain, little suspecting danger from
his crew, and watching his stanch ship as she rushed
along like a mad racer through the wild waters.

Aft came Perdido, followed by four men, and
the-n, without word of warning to the doomed man,
he was seized and hurled overboard into the foaming
wake of the driving vessel.

One long, loud cry of despair broke from his lips
as he went downward into the depths; but on the
ship drove and left him to his fate.

“Now, lads, that work is done, and the woman
comes next.” hoarser said Perdido, and he descend-
ed the cabin companionway, followed by his cut-
throat followers.

Rita, the Smuggler Queen, had heard that wild
cry of the captain, and started to her feet, to sud-
denly be confronted by the mutineer mate.

" h, what has happened?" she cried, dreading
she knew not what.

“Lady Rita, I command this ship now, forl have
hurled the captain into the sea, and you are my
prize.”

“ Holy Virgin! you are mutineers 3" cried Rita.

“ We are just that, Lady Rita, and pirates. too, for
the ship is ours, and you are m ' prize.”

What followed the reader alyready knows, for he
has seen the woman, brought to bay, dash them
aside and ﬂy to the deck, and then to the yard-arm
for safety, taking death in her own hands rather
than meet it at the hands of the mutineer mate and
his men.

It was an appalling s ectacle, to behold that brave
and beautiful girl fear eSsly standing there in mid-
air in the rigging of that gallant ship. with the winds
howling about her, the lurid lightning playing
around her and the furious waves leaplng up in
mad carnival, as thou h to dash her from the yard—
arm, while they adde their rage to make the thrill-
ing picture more terrible and sublime.

An instant of fearful suspense rested upon all,
and then out of the cabin to the deck bounded a
slender form, and sweeping the scene at a glance,
his eyes fell upon the storm-swept sea, the gale-
driven ship, the girl in the rigging, holding at bay
her pursuers, and the few seamen amidships gazing
upward in horror.

Then up to his shoulder went a rifle, and. as the
muzzle covered Perdido, he shouted, in a voice that
rung like bugle-notes:

" Down to the deck, mutineers, or die l"

An instant of awful silence, as all eyes turned
upon the youth, and then came in a voice that arose
to a shriek, as the words left the lips of the woman
at bay:

“Great God! it is the Bov Planter!

“Sever will I owe my life to him. whose life I
see .

“ Never! 1 will die ﬁrst," and with the last word

 
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than owe my life to you, I will drive this blade into my own heart.”

she let go her hold and sprung into the sea, just as a
wild shout arose forwar

“ Breakers all ear] I Breakers ahead K”

“ Hard. hard down your helm, hard !" commanded
the youth, as he beheld the foaming wall under the
ship’s bows.

But too late came the order, for, borne upon a
mighty wave, the gallant ship, as though ashamed
of the crew she bore, plunged upon the reef that
barred her way, and the shock that followed
brought her masts down with all their rigging, and
swept her decks of every human being that stood
upon them.

CHAPTER VI].
A LIFE FOR A LIFE.

THE instant the young midshipman saw that
the ship was doomed to strike, he bounded down
the companionway into the cabin, well knowing
that the sea rolling astern would sweep her decks
clean, while the rigging must come down under the
tremendous shock.

His views were perfectly correct, for the ship was
ingulfed as it were for an instant and her decks
swept by the swell that rolled upon her, while the
masts. spars and rigging went down, carrying with
therdn Perdido and his men who were clinging to the
yar .

Borne on by the torrent, the wreckage left the
wreck, and as soon as the volumes of water ceased
from pouring through the. companionway, Irving
Brandt again rushed on deck.

What a scene met his gaze.

The grand old ship hurled upon the reef. and heat-
ing the bottom savagely, and in a way that showed
she must soon go to pieces.

Not a mast standing, and no human being in sight.

Alone amid the ruin and savage elements, the
youth stood gazing about him.

Then a ﬂash of lightning lit up sea and sky, and a
cry escaped his lips as he be eld a human being
struggling out in those mad waters.

Instantly be bounded down the companionway,
and in a second’s time returned with a long rope,
one end of which, as he darted forward, he bound
about his waist.

The other end he made fast to the capstan, and
then s ringing upon the bulwarks he again glanced
over t e foaming waters.

An instant of darkness, and then an instant of
light, vivid, blinding light. followed by a roll of thun-
der that shook the very reef upon which the wrecked
barquc had plunged.

But in that second’s glance the young midshipman
had seen the same struggling form that before had
caught his eyes.

It was still visible. struggling to reach the wreck.
and yet being borne swiftly past. '

Bounding into the sea he struck out nobly to the
rescue.

From infancy almost he had been noted as a dar-
ing. tireless swimmer, and now his every energy was
called into play.

A hard snuggle, bold strokes, deep dives beneath
the mountain waves, and he arose within a few feet
of the one he sought to save.

Still struggling for life. that one was nearly ex-
hausted. when suddenly the daring middy arose on
a wave so near.

But that one was the Smuggler Queen, and a cry
escaped her lips as for the ﬁrst time she beheld him ,

 
' Illll|ll1llllll|Illl'llliuuim-I"

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illlllﬂlll‘lllllllilw

 
near her, and then came her words, uttered vicious-

y“Ha! you here, Sir Middy? Then I have joy in
seeing you die with me i"

“ No, I have cometosave you. forI cannot see you
die while I have the power to rescue you,” he shout-
ed back to her, and put out his hand as though to

ras her. _
g Bur; instantly she threw herself back,while she
raised the small knife, which she had ,drawn from

her bosom, and cried sav el :

"Boy! murderer of my ather! do not touch me,
for rather than owe my life to you, I Will drive this
blade into my own heart 1” ,

As the woman hissed forth the words, a curling
wave struck her full in the face, and. Stunned by

the blow, she went down beneath it. _

But Irving Brandt had seen the wave coming, and
diving, had avoided its shock, while at the same tune
he grasped the woman ﬁrmly in his arms. _

Then came the jerk. as he reached the end of his
rope, and for an instant he believed that it would
give way: but it held ﬁrm, and. lashing the woman,
now wholly unconscious, to him, he began the gi-
gantic act of dragging his weight and hers back to
the wreck. _ _ . .

Inch by inch he made his way. his hands blistering
and bleeding, as now and then a wave would force
him backward; but at last he got under the lee of
the ship’s sides, reached the reef, crawled upon it,
and then over the bows to safety, draggin the wo-
man after him, and then falling breat ess and
senseless upon the deck.

Thus the two lay for some moments.

Then the woman awoke to consciousness, and see-
ing her position, with the midshipman's arm about
her, she sprung away from him. as though he had
been a snake, and dropping upon her knees a few
feet distant, clasped her hands and cried piteously:

“ God in heaven! I owe my life to him!

“ Yes, he has saved me.’ the murderer of my poor
father has saved the life of his child. .

“Oh God! the thought is terrible, to owe it that I
live to that boy.

“But is be dead?” ,

She gazed in breathless earnestness upon the limp
form of the youth,-and then said:

“No, no, it cannot be that he is dead thus. . .

“ No, no, not when I have lived that I may kill him
and thus avenge the past.

“ Ha! he moves! he lives! and right now can I
drive this knife to his heart! right now can I get my
revenge!”

Upon her knees she now crawled towardthe pros-
trate youth. her right hand grasping her little dirk,
her left pressed hard upon her heart, as though to
still its beating.

Nearer and nearer she crept, until she bent over
the y outh, her hand upraised.

Then she shrunk back. still upon her knees, and
cried pitifully: ‘ .

“No, no, I am no coward to strike at one wno is
defenseless. . .

“ I will bide my time and another time I Will kill
you, Midshipman Brandt, for my vow has been
registered to do so.”

As the woman spoke the youth suddenly assumed
a sitting posture and gazed about him, and then
upon her.

The winds still howled, the waves still roared, one
every now and hen bursting itself over the stern of
the wrecked ship, and rushing forward with irre-
sistible fury.

The woman still crouched near, her left hand yet
upon her heart, her right grasping the knife she
had :0 nearly driven into the broad breast of the

Out i.

y In a moment he seemed to take in the situation,
and said calmly:

“ Are you angr 7 because I saved you?”

“Yes; why di you not let me die, rather than
owe my life to you?" she said, bitterly.

“I would not have let even that mutineer ring-
leader perish, could I have saved him, and certainly
not you, a woman.”

“Boy, how came you on this ship?" abruptly
asked the Smugglcr Queen, as though angry at the
nobleness of his nature.
b_;‘I,came on board as a passenger, to go to Mo-

1 e.’

" To dog my steps?"

“ Oh, no; for I knew not what had become of you,
after the night I put you in my carriage to send to
the city, until I saw you in the Vulture’s cabin.”

“ Do you mean this?”

“ I do."

” I have not seen you on board.”

“ No; i kept my slate-room after seeing you.”

“ Then you were watching me?”

“ On the contrary, I did not care to meet you.”

“ Did you fear me?”

“ Had I done so, would I have allowed you to go
free from the luggcr, come to your rescue when
those mutincers drove you to the rigging,and risked
my life to save you a while ago?"

. “1N0, you surely do not fear me,” she said, mus-
ing y.
“ Why should I?"

“ Have I not vowed to kill you?”

“ Oh, yes: but you will think better of that.”

“Never! for I here, on my knees, upon this storm-
swept deck, with God’s anger raging about me,
swear to one day take your life, boy,”and the wo-
man raised her hands upward as though calling up-
on Heaven to register the fearful vow she made

 
CHAPTER VIII.
AFTER THE STORM.

To the woman’s vehement vow against his life,
Irving Brandt made no response, but rising to his
feet, and still suffering from his violent exerti‘ins,
he walked as far aft as he dared, to note just how
long the wreck would last.

tha remained where he had left her, crouching
beneath the shelter of the windward bulwark, and
her eyes upon the youth, whenever a ﬂash of light-
ning enabled her to see him.

" The wreck will sooa go to Hieces under this fear-
ful thumping, and then it wi be another swim for
life. with the chances all against us,” he muttered,
as he felt the tremendous shocks beneath his feet,
as the hull rose and fell upon the waves.

“Every boat has been torn off: but a raft might
be made, if that Siubborn woman would help me.

"The island lies yonder, dead over the bows, and
if we could make the raft fast, let a wave sweep it
over the reef, we couhlthen swim to it and take our
chances at reaching the land. '

“ Well, I can but try her.” .

Walking forward again, the midshipman halted
near the woman and sail:

“ You certainly do not wish to die, do you i”

“ No, I wish to live for revenge,” was the quick re-
ort

“ Well, whatever your motive may be, lady, if you
aria willing to help me, I believe we can save our-
se ves.

“ Save yourself, boy, and leave me to my fate.”

“ No, I can save myself only with your aid.”

It How?”

“ The hull is pounding itself to pieces.”

“ I hear that ” '

“It cannot last more than a couple of hours at
furthest, and together we can build a raft.”

“ Of what?”

“There is ample rope in the hold, and the state-
room and cabin doors, with a few extra spars below
decks, will serve our purpose.”

“ The raft will not go against this sea.”

“ We can launch it, made fast by ropes. and watch-
ingfour chance for a high sea, let it go over that
ree .

“ Then we can swim to it, and, if I remember right
what reef we are on. it is only a league to the island.”

“ You are a brave youth and I wish I did not have
fotllook upon you as my foe," she said, softening a

it e.

“ Well, for the present we must work as friends.

"Will you help me?”

“ Yes.”

“ Then you tie the spars together as I bring them
up on deck."

The woman arose and followed him to the spot
amidsliips which be selected as the place to launch
his raft, and the work was begun, both working har-
inoniously together, but in silence, except it was
n .‘cessary for one or the other to speak.

In less than an hour the raft was completed, and
a stanch affair it was.

Then Irving Brandt seized an ax and be an to cut
away tl-e bulwarks. while the woman ina c the raft
fast to the hows wiih long ropes.

At last the o icnin 3 was made, and then provisions
were brought mm below and lashed on, and a huge
wave, flooding the decks, bore the raft off upon its
bosom, and thus on over the foaming reef right
through the breakers.

The ropes lightened with a loud twang, and then
Irving cried gleefully:

“ Now we must go, for so for all has worked
well.”

“You go ﬁist.”

“ No. I will not leave you," ﬁrmly responded the
midshipiiizin.

“I am a good swimnmi‘.",

“It matters not: we go together “

There was something in the youth‘s manner that
commanded obedience. and seizing a rope she low-
ered herself ovor the bows, down upon the reef,
where she stood waistdeep in water.

Instantly Irving followed, and said simply;

“ Now come i"

A wave, larger than usual, came sweeping along,
and rising upon llS crest, they were swept clear over
he reef.

“L)Ol{ out for the raft, that you do not strike it
too hard i“ ci it‘d Irving. and a momcnt after he
grasped it, and throwing his all‘lll about the woman,
(‘1' iggcd her on board.

She, shrunk from his touch, but unheedmg her act,
he quickly severed the “DES, and the rqu drove
shorewurl at a terrific I‘at'f‘.

{iWntching with the lightning ﬂashes, the iiiidsliip_

man soon beheld the land ahead, and cried, as he
caught a fair view of its outline:
' *‘ it is as I thought, the Witches' Isle; but we can
land, though not without danger.”
“It is said that the island is haunted,"remarked
the woman, with a shudder. .
“ Well, if it is not now it soon Will be by us.” _
“Do you not believe in Witches, boy?” angrily
asked the woman.
" No, nor in ghosts; but I. have heard many
strange stories told of yonder island by men whom
I do not think would intentional] deceive me,” an-
swered Irvin , who though utter y_fearless, was yet
not wholly ree from the superstitions that ruled
that age. when our revered ancestors were mostly
ﬁrm believers in spooks and Witches, the owl eye
and mysterious charms
Suddenly, as the raft went driving shoreward.
there came a mighty crash astern, and Rita cried
out:
“That ends the ship.”
“Yes, she has gone to pieces; you see that we
were none too soon in leaving,” was the cool reply
of the midshipman. .
“And again I owe you my life,” was the bitter re-

ly. _
“And will again, unless you are a holder svvimmer
than I think, for hark how the surf beats yonder on
the island."
“Yes, it is too Wild for the raft to land.”
“Then we will anchor until the sea runs down, for
you see I brought a mud-hook.” ‘
“Yes, you have your wits about you in danger,
that is certain: but see! there is a light upon the
island!” and the Smuggler Queen pomted to a pale-
green light that was visible dead ahead.
"It is doubtless a ship’s green lantern; some one
is there before us.”
“ But who?” »
“ Perhaps the mutineers.”
“They were in the rigging when the crash came
and were swept with it into the sea, so could have
no lantern."
“True; then I do not know who it is.”
“Perhaps it is a witches’ light, for see how green
it is."
‘h Yes‘ll .
“ Boy, we are doomed,” said the woman, im-
pressively. _
The youth made no reply, but kept his eyes ﬁxed
upon the strange, weird ight. .
Suddenly it moved to and fro. then in a circle
round and round, and then began to dance up and
down, while right in the face 0 the storm came to
the ears of those two on the life-raft a burst of
mocking laughter.
“Holy Virgin protect me!” groaned the Smuggler
Queen, while Irving Brandt said sternly:
“ What- heartless wretch can laugh on such a
night?”

 
CHAPTER IX.
THE wrrans’ ISLE.

THE small anchors which Irving Brandt had taken
the precaution to put on the raft, were thrown out;
but they did not hold, and were dragged rapidly
shoreward.

Nearer and nearer the shore the raft approached,
until the midshipman saw that the shock must soon
come, and said: »

“ It will be a rough landing here; but we must free
ourselves from the raft and try it.”

“ Must [ again owe my life to you?” hoarser said
the woman.

“ Oh, no, for you are a superb swimmer, I noticed,
and can reach the shore: but you had better follow
in my wake.”

“ Ha ! there is that strange light again.

“ Is it a warning for me not to accept life at your
hands?"

" If so. what warning does it give to me? ” coolly
asked the youth. .

" It warns you not to save my life,” was the quick
response.

" Well, warning or not. I’ll not have your death on
my hands, if it is in my power to save your life.”

" Better not help me, boy, for you have heard my
vow. and I will keep it.”

The youth made no reply to her threatening
words, but after a moment said:

“ Come. We must leave the raft.”

Without hesitation she obeyed, and the two sprung
into the sea, for the raft was already in the surf.

Rapidly they were driven shoreward, the midship-
man keeping close by the side of the woman, and
watching for the best place to land. '

Suddenly he saw Rita throw her hands above her
head and utter a cry.

Instantly he seized her, and found her a dead
weight in his arms.

“ Ha! that piece of timber was dashed against
her," he cried, as a piece of the wreck touched his
hands.

Tnen he made a hold and giant struggle for life,
and. though buffeted about, submerged, and
buried forward with fearful force. he reached the
shore at last, and dragged himself and his burden
beyond the cruel fury of the waves.

A few stunted pines grew upon the bank near, and
thither he carried the woman, exhibiting a strength
one would not have believed he could possess.
Laying the slender form down he knelt by her side
to see if she was severely injured, when she said
faintly: .

“I am all right; but something struck me and
knocked me breathless.

"You have saved me again.”

“There was not much saving, for we were tumbled
ashore together in ﬁne style; but. as you are all
right, I will see if I can drag the raft out.”

" And I will help you.” and the woman, whom he
had believed seriously hurt, sprung to her feet and
followed him down to the shore. V

The raft was there, and going to pieces; but the
two dragged it ashore and managed to save the
things lashed upon it. .

These were borne up to the shelter of the cliff and
trees, and then the woman sunk down utterly worn
out, while the outh set to work gathering wood, and
soon ha! 3. pi e of fagots ready to light, when the
Smuggler Queen calle out:

“ \\ hat! do you intend to light a ﬁre?”

“ Yes, for I have some tinder and ﬂint here in an
oil-skin bag, and in this little ravine you can ﬁnd a
sage ,retreat, whileI get together the things from the
ra t. ’ v

“ But the light?”

“ What light?”

“The one we saw.”

“Oh! I don’t mind that, and we need to dry our
clothes and get some rest.”

The ﬁre soon blazed up bri htly, and the midship-
man unrolled some bedding t at had been Secure y
wrapped up in oiled canvas and thus had kept dry.

Some clothing for both had also been thus kept
from getting wet, and the Smuggler Queen threw
some dry wraps about her and lay down to rest.
Utterly worn out she sunk to sleep immediately,
and Irvinngrandt at once walked noiselesst away
from the ﬁre. ,

“ I don’t like that li ht m self; but I will see who
held it,” he muttere , as e went up on the bank
and stood glancing over the island.

It was a wild. rugged slpot, rolling here and there,
high in the center, and 0 ad with a growth of stunt-
ed trees. _

He had landed at one end of the island, and
marked the spot where he had seen the weird light,
so thither bent his ste 5.

Fear the youth di not know; and yet, in those
days of superstition, especially among those who
followed the water, he could not but feel a certain
dread of the spot where it was said witches had
held their haunt for years.

Following the curve of the shore, he went slowly
along toward the point where the light had been
seen.

“They say that no one ever sets foot on this island
and lives, unless he comes here to consult the
witches as to the future.

“The also say that pirates land here to ask the
curse o the witches upon their pursuers, and to get
charms to protect and give them luck.

“Some say," went on Irving Brandt, musing aloud
as he walked, “that a vessel was driven on here
long years ago, and all souls perished excc iting one
woman, a witch whom they had on boar in irons,
and were sending from En land to exile to Amer-
ica, as they did not dare kill er. '

“This old witch willed it to wreck the craft, and
shelalone, in irons, lived, and still lives here, it is
511K .

“ Well, I’ll soon know just what power the old
hag has,"and then he came to a sudden halt, for
up a ravine some distance off, was visible the same
weird, greenish light.

“There it is,“ he muttered, as he turned into the
i'ilVlllt‘.

It was a cut leading back into the island, and
hm! evidently been washed by the rain torrents seek-
ing an outlet in the, gulf.

lI“till(ill‘/’Illg thc ravine the boy kept his eyes upon
t ie 1g it.

It was now stationary, and had a pale green halo
about it that he could not account for.

But, with that light in sight, he was determined
to know just what it meant.

A walk of a couple of hundred yards brought him
to a clump of pines, before which, sixty feet away,
arose a cliff. '

In this cliff was a cavern, and the light came from
within. and what it revealed filled the middy with a
feeling of horror.

On either side of the cavern, which had evidently
been dug into the earth, stood a ghastly sentinel, for
Ill/y H't/h .vl‘JefOIIA‘.

Around the edge of the cabin was a fresco of hu-
man thigh-bones crossed, and with a grinning skull
alternating, the centerpiece being a huge owl.
Within the cavern was suspended the lamp that
cost forth such a bright, greenish glare, and its rays
fell upon a seen I that caused the inidsl‘iipmnn. brave
 he was, to quickly turn and ﬂy from the ghastly

 
' A Romance Founded upon Incidents In

sight, while, as he darted away, a burst of mocking
laughter was heard and then the deep bay of blood-
hounds as they rushed in hot chase u on the track
of the mortal who had dared place oot upon the
Witches' Island. ,

(To be continued—commenced in No. 71.)

 
MISSPENT YEARS—A MEMORY.

nv AL. w. CROWELL. .
I am sitting alone in the gloaming to-ni'ght by the

re,
And my ylears fall away from me e’en as a tale that
s o —-
The years that are freighted with sorrow and heart—
ache and woe— .
The years that are heavy with passion and sinmng
and shame,
And the arms of the loved are around me, (the loved
who is dead .’)
While the innocent kisses of childhood are pressed
to my lips!

Oh, years! could you come once again with the
glory of old 2——
Could I stand once again as a youth on the borders
of Time!—
Could I feel the soft arms of my loved one once more
at my throat !— -
But the Past is forever the Present with me and my

s ame,
And, oh! what availeth my longing, my bitter re-
9..

gre . .
Vain! vain! and Repentance is sorrow, and Memory
pain!

This I know: tho’_ my feet may have trod in the
pathway of sin—-
Tho‘  lips are polluted by kisses impure and de-

1
,Yet the prayers of repentance arise from my shame-
stricken heart
As the daffodil peeps from a chill shroud of winter
and snow,
And my lips are as pure as the mother-kissed lips of
a child!

There is one thing I know: when the feet of my
youth were astray,

The eyes of the loveliest angel that Paradise held

Were shrouded in tears, and her face covered up in
her hands,

Shone not upon earth nor in heaven; the death-bell
was rung

Low down in her bosom of sorrow and bitter regret,

That more was of earth than of heaven, for never
has been

Since the ﬁrst Fall of Man in the Garden of Eden a

Sin
But the angels have wept for the sin and have prayed
for the sinner.

There is one thing I know: there are arms that are
waiting for me—
White arms that are eager to clasp and to hold me

for aye;
But the billows of Time, 10! are rolling between us,

1
In a ruddcrless barque may be lost on the tempest-
' tossed sea!
For the mists and the shadows of 'h'me are around
and above, '
And Itllly vision is dim in the gloaming; yet this I be-
0 ....
The white of her arms as they reach to my help and
my gaze—
The gleam of her face as it shines like a Bethlehem-

s ar— .
And the sheen of her hair like a halo of heavenly
ﬂame!

There is Ollilfe thing I know, oh, Star of my hope and
my e:

If any can guide me aright thro’ this shadowy sea,

Where vessels are sinking each moment to darkness
and death—

Where many are wrecked on the breakers of Sin and
of Crime—

If {my can guide me safe home to Eternity’s shore,

It is thoul—It is thou l—thou alone, Star of Hope!
Guiding Star! 7

But COVill‘Ithe embers! the ﬁre has died down! it is
co

The einbeig are shrouded in ashes as chill as my
war

But the coals are still there, altho’ covered from
sight, and they shine

Warnii’tnld ruddy just under the ashes. and livid with
I 3

Fit type of my Manhood and heart which are thrill-
ing with Hope,

Yet buriedlin ashes of vain years and bitter repent-
ance —

Of shame and of sorrow!—the ashes of “WHAT
Mion'r HAVE BEEN!”

While Beaver,

THE EXILE of the PLATTE;

on,

A Wronged Man’s Red Trail.

 
the Border Life of Frank Powell the
“Doctor Scout,” late Surgeon in
the United States army, and
now the “ Mighty l'ledi-
cine Chlefof the Win-
nebagoes.”

BY HON. W. F. CODY, (Buffalo Bill.)
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE ASSASSIN.
THE Red Angel band were well aware that
they had a most dangerous man to deal with in
the person of Surgeon Frank Powell, of the
United States army. .
They were also acquainted with the fact that
{levvi Igen took such big chances against death as
e i .
But they were wholly taken aback to see him
boldly confront them all when the outlaw, Van,
backed by others, said that they would put him
in irons.
Now Captain Kit went well supplied, although
he had no regular retreat, and among his equip-
ments were those terrors of evil-doors, hand-
cliffs, more generally called “irons.”
The Doctor Scout had seen these implements
among the useful articles of the Red Angel out-
ﬁt, and he had no desire to have them put upon
his Wrists, nor did he intend that they should
be, if it was in his power to prevent the hu-
miliation.
He knew that the Red Angels wished to'see
him‘in his grave, and once they got him wholly
in their power, it was more than likely that
their Wish would be gratiﬁed.
The chief was his friend, as he felt his life de-
pending upon the Doctor’s valuable services and
skill; but, if the men felt their chief was out of
danger, they would act to suit themselves, and
lCaptain Kit would not weep over the Surgeon’s
oss.‘
It was this knowledge that put Frank Powell
at bay, there in the outlaw bivouac, for his
mind was made up to bring the matter to a cli«
max right there.
The outlaws had not expected such a fearless
front from the Doctor Scout, under the circum-
stances, aud stood still, not knowing what to do.

As for Van he was anxious to push matters,
but he saw that he would not live to see the end-
ing, as the Doctor had him safely covered.

“ Well, men, you see what I am going to do
about it,” said Frank Powell, breaking the si-
lence that was growing oppressive.

“ Yas, yer looks dan erous, Doc, an’ ef yer
shoots, then yer may spect that ter be ther
trumpet ter sound ther jubilee, fer ther sojers
will rush in on one side, lnjuns on t’other, and
then of ther cirkis hain’t Opened I am a liar,”
remarked Old Joe.

“The chances are more in my favor if I do
bring on the terrible conflict, than if I go with
you, ironed and helpless. ,
“ Come, shall it be war right here, or shall I
go a free man, bound only by my word not to
attempt to escape until your captain is out of
danger?

_“ Speak quick, men, or your- comrade there
dies, for my ﬁnger itches to pull the trigger
upon him.”

The manly bearing of the Surgeon Scout Won
the admiration of the outlaws, evil as they
were, and well knowing that they would not
stand the least chance if a triple ﬁght was pre-
cipitated, and believing that he was a man to
keep his word, several said:

“ Pards, let’s let up on that Doc.”

 
“ What does you say, Van?" asked Old Joe.

The answer came with alacrity, for Van was
in danger greater than all:

"i will side with you, b0 5.”

“Enough; but let me warn you that as your
chief makes me the leader until you are out of
this difﬁculty, I will allow no interference from
any or all of you.”

" But you won’t attempt to escape, pard Doc,
3r to commoonicate with the sojers?” asked Old

09. .

“No, I Will consider myself as a soldier on
parole.”

“ Tnet are squar’, pards.”

“ Yes,” said a number of voices, and the S_ur-
geon Scout turned to walk back to the chief,
near Whom he had spread his blanket, when a
tall form glided toward him, a knife in his up-
raised hand.

The assassin made no sound as he went over
the velvety grass of the prairie, and not a word
of warning was given by the outlaws as they
saw his intended work, for if their prisoner
could die silently then and there, all right it
was in their minds.

Breathlessly one person watched the gliding
form, for he had hired .him for the work, by
slipping a bag of gold into his hand, and in a
whisper said : ‘

“ Dead Knife J im, take this gold and use your
blade on him, quick!”

The Surgeon Scout had walked a dozen paces,
and the assassin was almost upon him.

Another moment and the career of Frank
Powell would have ended then and there; but
suddenly a shadow fell bsfore the Doctor, lent
by the moonlight upon the prairie.

He was on the alert, and beheld the dark
shadow of a sneaking form, upraised arm, and
knife in hand.

As though on a pivot he turned, a ﬂash and
report mingled, and Dead Knife Jim uttered a
wild cry as his knife fell from his hand and
stuck in the prairie sward.

Again did Frank Powell stand at bay, this
time as before, with his hands thrust forward,
and each holding a. revolver, while he said,
sternly:

“ Cowards! to attempt to strike a man in the
back! Out with your weapons and meet me face
to face l"

 
CHAPTER XXVIII.
DEAD KNIFE Jim's FAREWELL GRIP.

DEAD KNIFE JIM, as he was known to his Red
Angel pards, was considered the most reckless
devil of the little outlaw community.

He was a tall, gawky man of forty, being over
six feet in hight, and all skin, bone and muscle.

Sometimes, on account of his long, gaunt
ﬁgure, and willowy motions, he was dubbed
“ Snakey;” but few men dared call him that to
his face.

He could run like a deer, and was known to
possess great strength and endurance, while he
was feared by all in an encounter.

Wearing a knife with a blade of great length,
and which seemed to have served in a butcher-
shop at some time in its ugly existence, he knew
how to use it with great skill, and had the happy
faculty of using one hand as well as the other.

On this account he wore two knives, one upon
either side, and the mate to the butcher weapon
was a bowie, as handsome in get up as the other
was rude in workmanship.

Upon his knives, rather than upon his two re-
volvers, did Dead Knife Jim more thoroughly
rely.

In a combat he always used his knives, Where
it was possible to do so, and could throw them
with wonderful precision to a great distance.

He enjo ed the reputation in the band of
having kil ed two of his comrades in a duel,
where they used a revolver and be his knife,
and this had gained for him the name of Dead
Knife Jim. ‘

As for conscience he never had possessed any.
his pards said, and he would kill a wounded
man without the shadow of compunction, While
his greed for gold was a passion.

Such was the man whom Van, the outlaw,
had bribed to strike Doctor Powell in the back,
and who had so promptly accepted the gold and
the task.

The shot of the Doctor Scout brought the
outlaws to their senses, and, in spite of watch—
ing the bold man who confronted them, the
turned anxious glances quickly toward the so -
dier and Indian camps.

But the DoCtor had begun hostilities, and he
was ready to meet the consequences.

“ My ﬁne fellow, I give you your life, but
leave my mark on you, for that arm will have
to come off,” said Frank Powell, calmly, and
the wounded man cried savagely in response:

“ If I loses my arm, I’ll hev your life, ScOut
Doctor: you kin bet on that.”

“ Well, lose it you will, and I’ll take the
chances on your killing me.

“ As you threaten me, I see I did wrong not
to kill you, instead of breaking your arm.

“But come, the soldiers and the Indians are
making no show of an advance, although the
shot alarmed them, so let me look to your
wound, my man.”

-Dead Knife Jim was standing, surrounded by
his pards, and his left hand was grasping the
shattered arm, while, in spite of his nerve,
groans burst through his shut teeth.

The words and manner of the Doctor seemed
to completely master him, and he made no
savage response, as his comrades expected he
would.

“You must let me look at your arm, for I
pledge you that you will lose your life with
that broken bone.’ '

“ How does yer know ther bone are broke?”
asked the outlaw, with a twinge of pain.

“ I shot to break the elbow and I did it,” was
the reply, and the Doctor Scout laid his hand
gently upon the shoulder of Dead Knife Jim,
while he continued:

‘f Come, I shot your chief, and have got him
domg well, so let me repair the damage I have
done you, as far as lies in my wer.”

. “By Heaven but I’ll do it, 33‘ I believes you
is squar’, an’ w u’dn’t out even my arm off on-
less it had ter be did.

‘fThar’s ther arm, Doc, or what yer hes left
0’ it, so 31st see ef yer kin patch it up, but of
yer can’t, Jist nip it off clean an’ give ther bone
ter ther coyotes ter pick.”

With a touch as tender as a woman’s, Doctor
Powell cut the sleeve of the hunting-shirt and
exzmined title wound.

vary 3 ort time was sufficient to show him
that.he had been right in his con 'ecture, that
the limb WOllli} hivelto be taken off].

man 8 al have

limb-J , to amputate your
“ Ampy What, Doc?”
“ Amputate.”
“ What are that?”
“ Cut it off.”
“ Why didn’t yer say so in plain English like
I talks, an’ not sling out yer French i”

“Well, I tell you so now.”
“ When are it to he did?”
“ The sooner the better.”
_ “I are Willin’, ef yer hain’t able ter doctor
it up.”
“ It would be impossible.”
“ “roll, git out yer weepins an’ set ter
work.”
‘.‘ I can give you something to deaden the
pain.”
2 I’ll take a chow o’ tobaccy, an’ thet are all."

Here, take this cigar, and put it betWecu
your teeth, and I have another for you, too,”
and the Doctor took from a handsome case a
fine IHavana.

‘ s this lonnecticut cabba e—leaf Doc ?"
2 $0, itlis alreal‘Havana.” g ’
is a cat e a eerd it are too rich for m
blood, fer I hain’t smoked a real weed siu’jl
kilt a .dandy ranchero, some year ago an’ be
had his pockets full of ’em; but they, didn’t
agre‘e’vﬁth me.”
e , your arm will ive '01 ‘
think of the cigar, I am afig'aid. 3 1 no time m
“ Iere, my man, bring me your canteen of
water and help me.” and Doctor Powell 0 died
to Old Joe, who quickly obeyed, while an {hp

 
other outlaws gathered around to see the work

done, and with very little show of sympathy
for their comrade.

A- lantern was looked up and lighted, and
then, Dead Knife Jim having placed himself in a
reclining position, as comfortable as was pos-
sible there on the prairie, Doctor Powell began
his work, remarking quietly:

“Now, Dead Knife Jim, I'll amputate your
arm in short order; but I would have saved my-
self troublg had I killed you instead of making
you a subJect for surgery.”

“I‘d rather lose tber arm nor my life, an’ I
begs yer ter be keerful thet yer don’t take ther
speerit out 0’ me when yer cuts ther arm off.”

In spite of the vile character of the man un-
der his knife, Frank Powell could not but feel
real admiration for the rent nerve and cour-
age be exhibited under t is most painful opera-
tion, and he said to. him frankly, when he had
thrown down his instruments and begun the
work of dressing the stump:

"You are as brave as the bravest, my man,
and I’ll do all in my power to alleviate your
pain and fetch on around all right.”

“ Thank yer, 0c; but is it over now i”

“ Yes; I’ll soon have you easy as can be
expected.”

“ Yer is a boss doctor, an’ no mistake; hain’t
be. boys?”

A general assent and murmur of admiration
followed from the crowd of outlaws, and it
was very evident that they had highly enjoyed
the nerve of their comrade and the skill of the
surgeon.

“ Will ver let me see thet arm, Doc?”

Frank Powell took up the severed hand and
arm, which had been cut off just above the
flbow, and held it before the vision of the out-

aw.

“Give us yer grip, old pard, an’ let me say
far’well, fer we parts comp’ny now forever.

“ Yer hes done a heap 0’ mean things, an’ red
deeds, I guesses; but yer hes never 10st yer grip
fer friend or foe ontil now,” and with his left
hand Dead Knife Jim ﬁrmly grasped his lifeless
right, as the Surgeon Scout. held it. before him.

In spite of himself Frank Powell was affected
byglthe strange act of the outlaw, and said earn-
es y:

“Now, my fine fellow, I’ll bury your arm
myself, for you are too brave a man to throw

it an the prairie for the coyotes to feed up-
on.

 
CHAPTER XXIX.
ON THE ALERT.

HAVING kept his word, to bury the s‘evered
arm of the outlaw, Doctor Powell looked at the
sleeping chief, whom the negro, Brick, had ad-
vised of What had happened, and then threw
himself down to rest.

The life of peril by day and night which the
Doctor Scout had led, caused him to sleep like
Napoleon, “ with one eye open,” and there was
not a movament near him that he did not at
once become conscious of what was going on.

He had half an idea that some of the out—
liliws would attempt to assassinate him While he
s out.

The soldier camp was seemingly on the alert,
and the moonlight revealed forms moving here
and there among the suaked-out horses.

The outlaw camp was comparatiVely quiet,
though some of the Red Angels, perhaps too
anxious to sleep, with the gallon s rising before
their eyes, were strolling about like wandering
spirits.

In the Indian camp all was as still as the
grave, for no sound came from there, and not a
pony or redoskin seemed to stir.

Now and then a low moan would come from
the wounded chief or Dead Knife Jim, showing
that they suffered in their sluep, and ibricu did
the attentive Surgeon Scout arise and look to
their comfort.

Thus pas~ ed the night until just before dawn,
and then even the horses seemed to sleep in the
bivouac of outlaws.

But there was one whose eyes were wide open,

and that one was Doctor I’owell.
His knowledge of Indian character caused
him to feel that if the Indians intended any
cunning game, it would be started upon in the
shadowy light between midnight and dawn.

Therefore, when all of the outlaws had drop—
ped off into a nap, even to the guards, he quietly
left his blankets and crept to the outer line.

He there lay in the grass watching the Indian
cam i.

All was still there, but his glass showed him
that their ponies were all collected in a mass.

“This means trouble,” he muttered, and be
scanned every spot of ground carefully between
himself and the camp.

Many persons would have been satisfied with
this examination; but Frank Powell was not,
and he turned his glass upon the soldier bivouac.

All was as still as death there.

Then be swept the prairie to the right and saw
nothing.

Upon the left the ground was more uneven,
rising in small hills here and there.

Over this expanse Doctor Powell now looked.
and the words that were slowly uttered showed
that he had made some discovery, for he said:

“ I thought they were up to some deviltry.

“ Now to rouse these cut-throats without any
disturbance.”

Gliding to a guard, who was asleep in the
grass, the Doctor said, as he awoke him:

“ Come, my man, the Sioux are creeping to-
ward usyonder, so be on the alert, but do not
rise, or In any way show yourself.”

In this way the Doctor Scout aroused the rest
of the camp, and in ten minutes a line of out-
laws had been formed to meet the attack.

They all lay at full length in the grass, and
had their riﬂes ready, as they pointed toward
the coming Indians.

_ Lying beside_them, Frank Powell was watch-
ing the red-skins through his glass, which re-
vealed what the eye could not See unaided.

“ Those cunning rascals have come round on
the ﬂank, and not from toward their camp,
Where theér knew we would be looking for
them,” sai the Doctor to Old Joe, who lay near

1m.
“Yas, Doc, they is cunnin’ varmints, an’ it
are lucky for this congygation thet you was
a—lookin’ out, or We’d hev been skulpt Snrt’in.

“ But they hes the’r ponies standin’ina bunch
over thar at thet camp. "

“ Yes, and by each pony stands a warrior,
for their little game is to have those braves
mount and charge the soldier camp, just as
those on foot rush in on Us.

“ This would keep the soldiers busv, while
ghose creeping yonder would make short work
ere.
“tIht is a Well-lgid 'pltilfll, for, after innssacring
us, 0 same par con ( mount ~
aid in the attack (In the soldiers.”our hon,“ um
‘flVaul, waal, you is a Wizard Doctor for
seein’ clean through ther way o’ lnjuns.

“ But Whar is they now, Doc?" and all Within
hearing waited anxiously for the reply.
th“"hc,]yi are in the blollow beyond that hill, and
ey W1 organize t icro to ' ' ' "
theyAintend to attack. r the mm m “hth
“ 3 they will crawl almost u on s ' . '
be half an hour before they get III: godldhl'mlzldl
which Will be that. rise you see two hundred
yards away. ' 7
“ As they crec i over that, i will "lye.
orderto fire; but I do not wish the SUlilh‘I‘S inﬁll:
taken by Sill'pl’lsi‘, for it is my belief that, the
Il‘iiiiizti'ns have been rlwhiforced during the night

Ill iey may now )9 son. ii 4' f 'i r .- - ‘
agaipst the “mpg.” d is 21 iron] iii. p u ty
“ ' ‘liet is so un’ tliar d is s i i i ‘
’01" than “ml, were.” 0i uni tir be mou- of
“ “'ell, ()ld Joe, you can make a huudrnd
dollars if you are willing to take the chum-us ”

“ I takes big chances, Doc, tor git gold ’ ‘
the r{-ply of the (ii i outlaw. J '
“ I re you afraid to '0 to the . o ‘-- - 1‘
:‘plvhat fer!” g s ldin (amp?

‘ ’ ‘o warn them so that the
guard.” y can be on their
“: I'Vhy, they’d hang me, Doc.”
youiio, I Will write you a line that Will proton
" Don’t be no fool, Joe," s1:
“ l huin’t.”

’ was

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“ \Va:il~——"
“ They’ll take you in pawn, Joe, f'er him,”
Whispered a voice near.

“So I’m thinking."

“I will pay you two hundred."

“ 'I‘licr It'vllo soul<b0x I carries, Doc, are worth
more than gold.

“ l’d like tcr oblecge ycr, but I hain’t willin’
ter risk it."

“ Will any man go with a paper from me to
protect him!" asked the Doctor.

No voice answered.

" I will give five hundred dollars to the man
who does,” coumiued the Doctor.

But no nun volunteered, and the Doctor
Scout uttered something very like an oath,
whilehc again turned his gaze upon tht Indians,
until a remark near him caused him to look
around.

The remark was addressed by one outlaw to
another, who was just leaving his post.

“ Why, Dead Knife Jim. what on ’arth is yer
doin’ hour?"

“Yer doesn’t think I is a-goin’ tcr lie idle
when thur is work ter be did?" came the answer.

“ But ycr hain’t able."

“ So 1 finds, and I is oin’ back ter my blank-
ets for awhile; but calI me when ther shootin’
be rins."

‘ Come, my man, you must not remain here,
but oback to your blanket and keep quiet,”
said he Doctor Scout, amazed at seeing the man

“I are off, Doc.” was the reply, and Dead
Knife Jim wormed himself back out of the line,
and all eyes again turned upon the line of crawl-
ing Indians, who little dreamed that they were
watched by the foes whom they hoped to sur-
prise, and who were making such good use of
the few clouds that overcast the moon, and the
shadowy light that was the precursor of dawn.

CHAPTER XXX.
STRANGE VISITORS TO THE SOLDIERS’ BIVOUAC.

THE clouds that had gathered toward the
break of day certainly gave advantage to the
cunning Indians, for they cast a shadow over
the prairie, and obscuring the moonlight, made
even the horscs at the different camps look like
specters.

In the soldier-camp all was stillness, for the
guards, worn out with their long watch, were
napping upon their posts, and the ofﬁcers and
men were lying grouped together on their blan-
kets and cloaks, too sound asleep even to dream
of what the marrow might bring forth.

But there was one on watch who did not al—
low himself to be overcome with sleep.

He was not on duty, but knowing full well
the negligence of soldier guards, he had thrown
himself down upon the prairie, and there lay,
wide awake and allowing his eyes to wander
around the camp.

In the early part of the night he had been the
one who, scouting around, had Seen the outlaw
messenger attempt to dash away, and when he
fell by the arrow of an Indian, had quickly
dropped the warrior with a shot from his riﬂe,
and returned to camp with a trophy in the shape
of a Sioux scalp.

This man, so thoroughly on the alert, was the
scout and guide of the troopers, and he was
well worthy of the name he had won and
which was that of "Night Hawk.”

He was also called " Texas Night Hawk,” as
he hailed from the Lone Star State, where he
had won fame as a daring ranger and scout;
but upon the pay-rolls of the fort he was down
as George E. Powell, and he was a brother of
the Doctor Scout.

He had come to the fort to read medicine un-
der the able tuition of his distinguished brother;
but, a man who loved danger, and was really a
“son of the plains.” he had so often rendered
such valuable services as a volunteer soldier
that he became a regular, through a commis-
sion sent him for gallantry.

ltesigning the rank he entered upon the du-
ties of a scout, and shared with the surgeon,
his brother, the famoof being one of the best
prairicmen on the border.

As Night Hawk, for by such name will he be
known in these pages, gazed out over the prai-
rie, performing the same duty in the soldier
camp that his brother was in the outlaw biv-
ouao, his eyes fell upon a dark object moving
through the grass.

At ﬁrst he believed it to be awolf; but he
soon saw that it was too large for such an ani-
mal.

“ An Injun, as I live,” he said, quietly.

“I’ll get his scalp, I think,” he continued, as
the form came nearer the camp.

Suddenly the form halted, and seemed to be
surveying the camp.

Then it came on once more, and so directly
toward the encampment that Night Hawk mut-
tered:

“ Well, that is the greatest fool In jun * I ever
saw.

“ He must think we are dead, drunk or
asleep, and, by Jove, he is nearly right about
the latter, for I do not think a man in camp 13
awake excepting myself. .

“ What! he must be coming directly into
camp, for not even a. red-skin would approach
that near simply to reconnoiter.”

Night Hawk now kept his eyes ﬁxed upon
the coming form, and drawing a revolver
waited until the strange invader of a soldier
camp came near enough to speak to, when he
said in a low tone:

“ Well, pard, who are you?”

“I are one who are glad ter ﬁnd some cuss
awake in this heur camp, fer durned cf I didn’t
believe you was all massacreed,” was the cool
reply.

“Well, who are you?” and Night Hawk still
kept his revolver covering the man, .who re—
mained in the same recumbent position in which
he had approached. _

“If it’ll tickle yer ter know me, I’ll inter-
dooce myself as Dead Knife Dick, an’ I comes
from the outlaw camp.”

“Ahl to betray your comrades?”

“ Nary betray, pard; you shoots at concloo-
si’ns too durned rapid, an’ misses ther targit.

“ I are a outer an’ out outlaw, hevin’ nussed
milk outa bottle when I were a baby that Were
stole from a neighbor’s dairy, an’  guesses when
I turns up my toes I’ll be lanted in some earth
which will be stolen ter kivcr me. .

“But I wants ter tell yer thet ther Wizard
Doctor, who are—” '

“ Hal my brother then is in your camp, and
the sergeant who said he recognized him was
ri ht.”

‘ Are ther Wizard Pill-Giver your brother?”

‘4 Yes.”

“ He are a tassel-top, a. clover—blossom, a

 
. howlin’ white man clean through, and—”

“ I know his virtues, so what havo you to say
about him?” _

“He sent me ter say thet ther Injuns was
playin’ a sly leetle game, fer they hed thei;
ponies ready in the’r camp, an’ braves standin
by ’em, ready ter charge inter you, While a
large party of ’em were crawlin’ toward our
outlaw lay-out ter massacres us, an’ mayhap,as
many more were a—creepin’ on you heur, an’ I m
durned of I don’t believe thar be, as ther reds
hes bed a reénforcement durin’ ther night that
We didn’t tumble to.”

“And my brother, Doctor Powell, sent you
here with this warning!”

(t Ipact. ’7

“What is he doing in the outlaw camp?”

“He are a priz‘ncr.”

(‘Ah g”

“Yes, we capter’d him, arter he hed bored 8.
hole in ther chief, an’ laid out a couple 0 ther
boys for wolf-meat, an’ we holds him thar until
ther cap’n an’ I gits well.”

“You?”

H Yas.”

“Did he wound you?”

“Waal, I are short a arm, thet are all; but

» be are a perfect gent’man, are ther Wizard Doc,

fer he broke my arm, and then cut it off in
beautiful style.”

 
*The contraction of the word Indian to Injun 18
used by many educated persons upon the plains. the
same as nigger is often made use of in the place of
negro, in some cases even by educated people—THE
AUTHOR.

 
“ By Heaven you are right; but do you mean
to say that you have crept here with 3 our arm
just nmputa ted?”

“ l hcv, for none 0’ tlicr boys w’u’d come, tho’
ther Doc offered ’em five hundred dollars, so I
jist lighted out as yer see, an‘ hcviu’ did my
duty, I’ll git back tei' my camp, as I hain’t over
strong, an’ it are my gOspil opinyun thet ther
is goni’ tcr be a sneakin’ good time fer coyotes
’round this pararer afore very long.”

“You are right; but come with me to the
captain, and—”

“ N0, pard, I is goin’ right back, an’ lose no
time about it.

“I hes done my duty, an’ I’ll be off.”

“ Well, I aminore than thankful to you, and
it is just like my noble brother to send you to
warn us.

“Tell him we are on the alert, and that it
shall not be forgotten that he is in the hands of
a gang of cutthroats.”

“Go slow about forcin’ mv pards, young fel-
ler, for they mou’t do ther Doc some harm of
yer drchS ’em, an’ ef you lets him look arter
hisse’f he kin do it, you bet. .

“Now I are off,” and the one—armed outlaw,
suffering untold agony, went creeping quietly
back toward his camp.

For half a minute Night Hawk watched him,
and then he went quickly toward the group of
ofﬁcers lying in the center of the camp.

As he passed through the circling line of
horses he suddenly came upon a person whose
presence ﬁlled him with amazement, for he
started back, his hand upon his revolver, while
the one he confronted said quickly:

“Hold, sir! Would you kill a woman?”

(To be continued—commenced m No. 67.)

 
BUYING IN DULGENCES.

BY JOSIE C. MALO'I‘T.

 
In the dark ages ast when ignorance and crime
Were more close y allied than in this modern time,
“Indulgences " sold—well, the price oft was gauged
By the depth of the purse; and the young and aged
Bought the privilege to indulge in some speciﬁed sin;
The choice depending on what was within.

The weak human heart. Some inclined to one thing,

Some another. But few o’er himself reigned as king.

’Twas shocking, you say? And you’re glad in your
time

That man cannot purchase the right to do crime?

Are you sure no “ indulgences ” sell nowadays—

That we purchase immunity in the olden time ways?

“ Too dear for the whistle “ we oftentimes pay;

E‘en our self respect may be bartered that way

And a conscience thrown in may increase the price,

And sometimes all this may not wholly sufﬁce.

The esteem and respect of our fellow-men

ls forfeited, too, and regained ne'er again.

Ah, “ indulgences ” cost in all ages and clinics,

And we purchase as dearly as they did in old times,
Nor stop to consider the price to be paid

E‘en to riskin our hopes of the city not made
With hands. 'et we live where Christianity reigns,
And our boast an escutcheon uiitarnished by stains.

Little uckskin,

The Young Prairie Centaur ;
on,
Old Kit Bandy, the Border Sleuth.

 
BY OLL COOMES,
AUTHOR or “ WHIP-KING JOE,” “ BABY SAM," ETC., ETC.

 
CHAPTER XIV.
A DYING MAN‘s CONFESSION.

THE conflict was over within a few moments,
although a score of shots had been ﬁred in the
dark—most of them outside the cabin.

Alvendez hastened to relight the lamp. Its
light shone upon a scene of blood. Tom Krome
lay dead upon the ﬂier. The reputed Jack
Drew lay writhing in fearful agony. Bob Mal-
vern had got a bullet through the ﬂeshy part of
his left arm. June, the Indian wife of the vil-
lain, Paul Dumont, for he White Pine, alias
Byron Postle was, had fallen backward into the
adjoining room and lay dying from a hemor-
rhage of the wound received at the hand of her
husband the day before, while her babe lay at
her side all unconscious of the terrible tragedy
that had just been enacted. ‘

Paul Dumont and Father Brennan had es-
caped in the darkness. I

The dead COWboy was removed to one Side
of the room. Zonita gave her attention to the
dying June, assisted by her father, while Kit
Bandy gave his assistance to the wounded Jack
Drew.

“ Old feller,” said the detective, “ you’re
pretty badly used up, ar’n’t you?” _

He answered in terrible groans and frightful
curses.

“ I’m shot to pieces!" he ﬁnally gasped, “ but
where is Dumont and Utah B111? Did they es-

2" .
caBeAhl then Father Brennan is Utah Bill?” said
Kit. . .

“ Yes, yes, and I must suffer for their sms and
die like a dog, while they go free to drag down
others. What a fool I’ve been. I .see it now
when the death damps are gathering on my
brow.”

“ And I ruther think you’re not Jack Drew—
not the Jack I know.”

“ No, my name is Redmon,” replied the dying

manA follerer 0’ Utah Bill and Paul Dumont?”
“Not exactly a follower of Utah Bill’s, but a
boon companion of Paul Dumont’s. I confess
that We have 'seen friends of Bill’s, but have
never been of his band—though, perhaps, fully
as wicked. But, as I am to die, I’d like to go
into the presence of my God with as light a bur-
den as possible. Once Paul Du mont and I swore
to stand by each other as long as life lasted.
But where’s he now?” _ n .
“ Loped off into the woods like a coyote, said
Kit; “ but, mind you, Redmon, he’s ’bout to the
end 0’ his rope—he’ll not escape. But, say,
would you mind tellin’ me what Dumont had to
do with the abduction o’ Colonel Darrel” I
“ Nothing more than to pgint outtto Utah 1:111
hance of etting a goo sumo money or
31:: (Solonel’s relgease. Utah Bill did all that work,
but the capture of the young man, Bob Mal—
vern, was the work of Dumont, and had he not
been rescued when he was he would have—well,
no matter. But this man, Alvandez, whose real
name is Estaban, has been wronged the worst
of all by me and Dumont, all forthe sake of
gold. It was known to us that his daughter,
Zoe, through her dead mother, became heiress
to an immense fortune, and Paul resolved to get
hold of a part of it, at least, by marrying her.
So he set about trying to Win her affections,
and failing in this he had recourse to_ murder.
We knew that Estaban and Colonel Arizpa were
intimate friends, and one evening when they
were taking a walk an arm was suddenly thrust
from the thick bushes at_ the roadmde, and a
knife driven into and left in, Arizpas heart.
Estaban seized the knife to draw it out, and just
as he did 50, Paul Dumont sprung fromlthe
bushes on the opposite Slde of the road, seized
Estaban and yelled ‘murder.’ Help came, and
the man was hurried to prison for the murder of
Arizpa. Dumont stood ready to swear he saw
the deathblow dealt by Esteban {but that night
Iand another friend of Paul’s bribed the jailer
and got Estaban away and bade him ﬂee for his
life. Paul expected then to compel his .daugh-
ter to marry through threats of. revealing her
father’s whereabouts, but to his surprise the
girl ﬂed with him. It was two years before we
found them living here in seclusion. Tonight
was to have witnessed his marriage With Zoe
and the achievement of his'great aim. Had he
married her he had it all arranged by which L:-
taban was to have been exonerated. though
how he could have acconiplishediit I could never
conceive. In fact, I never believed he would
have tried. The man who did kill Arizpa is
w dead.” .
no“ Did you ever hear him say anything of be-
in’ engaged to a lady in the South?’

 
'to stay by me.

“ Yes, to the daughter of Colonel Darre.”

“ Exactly: and did you ever hear him speak
of laein’ married to an lngiii woman 4”

“Oiten. He was always (*0an ieniial with me,
and in a laughing way, spoke many times of his
lngin wife, June.”

“"he royal devill he’s been playin’ it ﬁne a-
gold-minin’,”

"He has paying interests,” said demon, “ in
the Leadville and Deadwood mines, but he, like
my own miserable self, thought more of money
made in reckless, wicked adventures than by
honest labor.”

“ I’ve been onto Paul’s racket these Weeks and
m0nths,”said Old Kit. “Over six months ago
Colonel Darre heard some way or other that his
future son-in law was a married man, and also
a. member 0’ Utah Bill’s band, and so he went
to St. Louis and there employed a detective,
the original Jack Drew, and sent him West to
look up Paul’s standin’aniong the mountaineers.
At Fort Lyons Drew was taken sick and turn-
ed the work over to me, and now if I can ﬁnd
the colonel I think I am ready to report.”

“ He felt so sure of Zoe and her fortune,” said
the dving outlaw, “that he was very willing
that Utah Bill should make all he could out of
Colonel Darre. But let me warn you that it’s
dangerous to remain here long, for Bill can
bring a dozen desperate men against you before
to morrow noon.”

vern, Deck Rollins and Old Kit, and when young
Rollins afterward told Zonita and her father of
the confession exculpating Don Esteban from
the murder of his friend, the maiden clasped
her father about the neck and the two wept and
rejoiced together.

Redmon lingered along until after midnight,
dying in great agony.

A consultation was ﬁnally held by the brigade,
and it was decided to continue the search for
Colonel Darre. Little Buckskin and young Law-
races were diSpaiched to Whisky-Fa mine to
watch the movements of Dumont and Utah Bill,
Red mon, before dying, having given them such
information regarding the camp and its in-
mates as would enable them to act with some
degree of safety and perchance success.

In the mean time Old Kit had taken measures
at the cabin to guard against a night surprise
by the foe.

 
CHAPTER XV.
REAPING THE WHIRLWIND.

UTAH BILL and Paul Dumont both escaped
from the cabin unharmed, and fast as their legs
would carry them they hurried from the vicin-
ity of their inglcrious defeat.

They made their way back to Whisky-
Famine, speaking but a few words until they
were safely in Dumont’s room in the camp.

Lighting a candle, Dumont brought out a
bottle of liquor, and after they had emptied it,
they seated themselves and entered into con-
versation.

“ Don‘t this night’s work beat Satan?” was
Dumont’s ﬁrst obServation.

“ I should say so,” replied the outlaw, Utah
Bill; “ I reckon poor Red mon was killed.”

" Curse that black-eyed centipede, Zonita!
She is the one that set the trap for me. Gadsl
[have lost everything, Bill. Even that mud-
sill, Bob Malvern, must turn up there to—night:
but I put in a shot at him while on the retreat,
and [rather think he got his last sickness. I
hope so, at least. And that wench of a squawl
I supposed she was deader’n the mother of
Adam. Just think of it! Could a more disas—
trous thing have happened to me and my pros-
pects?’ _

“ I can’t conceive of anything worse, I assure
you: but I now see that that whole outﬁt is a
gang of detectives, and shrewd ones they are,
too. From this on, Whisky-Famine's going to
he unhealthy for me. and if i get through with
Darre’s ransom safely, I’ll do Vi ell.”

“ Bill, hadn’t you better give that up?”

“ Never, till I have to,” was the emphatic

reply.
“ It would be better for me, for the colonel’s
daughter’s all I’ve got to fall back on now, and
even that recourse will be a deuced dangerous
one to handle since Paul Dumont’s been caught
at some of his tricks. But I could march into
the cavern and release the colonel and make
him believe I’d rescued him, and that my asso-
ciations with you were all a scheme to effect his
release.”

“ That all may be, Paul," replied Bill, with a
tinge of sarcasm, “but simply because you lost
to-night is no reason I should lose to morrow.
We went into this matter on the square. I
stood by you till the last, and now I expect you
I tell you, man, you have been
run down by detectives. I am satisﬁed now
that Old Jack Salts is Old Kit Bandy, and if so,

ou’d- as well undertake to buck a whirlwind.

ou‘d make nothin’ out of liberating Darre—
not a thing.”

“ Well, there is Where we differ, Bill.”

“ I can’t help that,” replied the outlaw; “ but
if I could call in my men to night that are scat-
tered over two :hundred miles of territory, that
outﬁt at Alvandez‘s cabin would never get out
of the Arkansas valley."

“ There are enough in Whisky-Famine to take
them in.” .

“ Yes, there’s enough in one sense, but in an-
other there‘s not. In the ﬁrst place we can’t
count on half of the miners being friends, and
even if they were, they wouldn’t leave the
Mecca long enough to take a bath in the river.”

Dumont, half angry, rose and paced the ﬂoor
uneasily.

Utah Bill sat gazing at the empty bottle on
the table with a scowl upon his smooth, “ priest-
ly” face. _ _

It was evident that the best of feeling did
not exist between the two scoundrels at that
moment.

Finally Utah Billleft his friend’s room and
sought his own quarters.

Paul Dumont sat down and for fully an hour
was engaged in deep reﬂection.

Then he arose, put out his light and stole
softly out of the cabin and moved away down
the valley. ‘

Two skulking ﬁgures gliced from the shad-
ows of the building and followed him.

With rapid strides the restless villain pushed
on and on till he reached the river, down whose
course he turned. His footsteps were heavy,
and even though at times his form was lost in
the darkness, the keen, practiced ear of Buck~
skin Phil, who, with Lawrence, was after him,
enabled him to follow by sound.

Down the river for three or four miles went
the man, then leaving the stream he took across
the hills in the direction whence the brigade
had come two days previous.

“ By smoke,” whispered Buckskin to his com-
panion, “ the varmint, I guess, is headed for the
Black Pool!”

“ To drown himself, I hope,” replied Law-
rence.

The boys followed on, but owing to the dark-
ness and the tortuous windings they lost all
hearing of their man, and were compelled to
give up the pursuit. But they did not turn
back, but sat down to wait for daylight, deter—
mined to push on to the Black Pool at all haz-
ards.

Fortunately they had not long to wait, for
the night was well advanced, and, With the ﬁrst
streaks of dawn. they were up and off—ﬂying
over the hills and through dark deﬁles with
nimble feet and determined spirits. And ere
they were aware of their proximity to the
pool they were startled by the roar and rush
of its waters a short distance in advance.

Slackcning their speed, they approached the
dread pool with cautious steps, keeping under
cover of the pines.

When but a few rods from the rapids Little
Buckskin caught sight of a man picking his
way along a narrOW, rockv ledge overhanging
the waters of the whirlpool on the right.

“ By smoke!” said the young horderman;
“Lawrence, that’s that smooth-faced villain,
Utah Bill!”

“It’s the fellow that man, Redinon, said was
him,” said Lawrence.

The ,outlaw, for it was Utah Bill, moved
slowly and carefully along the narrow way,

 
This confession was listened to by Bob Mal— .

 
for one false step would hurl him into the seeth—
ing waters below.

He had proceeded perhaps a rod, when, in
rounding a point of rocks, he came suddenly
face to face with Paul Dumonr, who was being
followed by an old man—none other than Colo-
ncl Zlbulon Dari-c!

The two men stopped short and glared at
each other a moment like wild beasts.

“Ha, Paul Dumont! I have caught you in
your base treachery!” Utah Bill finally hissed
out;!“"I mistrusted this and secretly followed
you

“ Bill, I promise you all you ask,” replied Du-
mont; "this old man shall not lay and rot in
that dismal cavern.”

“ Who the deuce is that, Paul?” thundered
the old colonel, all of his old-time irritability
manifesting itself; “knock him over into the
ﬂood or walk over his vile body.”

“ Old man, don’t forget that I am your cap-
tor,” said Utah Bill, “and it was through the
suggestion of your friend Dumont that I had
you waylaid near Zane’s Ranch and captured
to be held for ransom.”

“Colonel,” said the cowardly Dumont, “ it’s
a lie—a base—”

Before Dumont could repeat the word the
outlaw sprung at him like a tiger and endeav—
ored to knock him over the ledge, but Dumont
was on the alert and the two grappled.

In size and strength they were well-matched,
and for a few moments they stood swaying to
and fro like trees in the wind, neither uttering
a word nor sound. But there could be but one
outcome to the struggle, and that was death
for both in the mad waters below. Colonel
Darre started to assist Dumont, but before he
could render any help the combatants lost their
balance and shot downward into the ﬂood,
a wild cry of horror trailing from their lips.

Darre started back, his face the picture of
terror, then he glanced over the ledge and
caught sight of the two men as they went down
in the snirling waters followed by one of the
ghastly corpses that Bob Malvern had seen a
few days before tossing about in the pool.

With his soul ﬁlled with horror the colonel
hurried along the ledge and reached the bank
at the l0wer end of the pool, then turning, be
cast another glance at the boiling ﬂood—again
caught a glimpSe of the combatants rolling and
tossing in the water like sediment in a. mighty
caldron.

“ Hullo there, old man!” suddenly called out
a voice from the shadows, and the colonel start-
ed and glanced around him,

“Who the deuce calls me?” the excited man
replied.

“ Me, Little Buckskin,” replied the young
hunter, and he and young Lawrence advanced
toward the colonel.

“ Little Buckskin? What, that boy that lives
down on the Arkansas?”

“ Yes, sir.”

“ What in blazes are you doing hire?”

“Hunting for an old bear called Colonel
Darrc.”

“That’s my name, boy; that’s my name.
Come, hurry up here and jump into this water
and help my—”

“ No, I don’t jump into that water, for that’s
the Black Pool and he who goes in there never
gits out alive. That’s'the place for them two
fellers—we seen them roll in—the infernalated
rascals. One is old Utah Bill, and the other is
his pard, Paul—”

“ I don‘t b’lieve it—not a word of it!” growled
the colonel.

“See here, old man, you don’t want to cork
yourself,” replied Buckskin. “If you d( n't be—
lieve it follow us and we‘ll take you to where
Old Kit Bandy is, over here in the mountains,
and he’ll tell you the kind of truck them fel
lows are made of. VVe‘ve been huntin’ for you
three days and nights, and if you don’t want to
be found go jump into that pool and drown
yourself.”

“Such rascally, boyish impudence I never
heard!” stormed the colonel; “ but say; if you
fellows are here to help me out of this con-
demned country why don’t you start and not
stand here cackling like chimpanzees?”

“All right! Come on!” and turning, the
three started oﬂf through the mountains, the
colonel mumbling, and the boys ready to ex-
plode with laughter.

The journey to the cabin was a long and tedi-
ous one for the colonel, and more than once
they had to stop and rest.

When about a mile from the home of Alvan-
dez, the trio came upon Old Kit Bandy, who
was out onareconnoissance; and with his young
breast swelling with manly pride at their suc-
cess in ﬁnding Darre, Little Buckskin intro-
duced the colonel to the old detective.

‘- By the born 0’ Joshua! I’m glad to meet
you, colonel,” Old Kit averred, shaking the
colonel’s hand.

“Well.” responded the old Kentuckian, “I’d
be acondemned sight gladder to meet with a
carriage going my we ,.”

“ The walkin’s not good in these parts, colo—
nel,” admitted Bandy, with a twinkle in his
eyes, “ and I reckon them boys made ye hump
yersclf pretty lively.”

“ Not at all—I‘ve about run the young scoun-
drels down. I’m good, old man, for forty miles
yet, but I could ride it in a palace car easier
than I could walk it.”

“ S'pose so, colonel, but, as I said before, I’m
glad to meet you. I’ve somethin’ to report to

on.”

y “Ah! I remember now, you’re Kit Bandy,
the detective that Jack Drew turned some mat-
ters of mine over to. Well, what have you
found out! what do you know about Paul Du-
mom?”

“ I’ve found out that he’s a murderer, a much
married man, and the pard of the outlaw, Utah
Bill.”

“ Blazes! you don’t say?”

“ I do; and just last night he came down to a
cabin, not far from here, expecting to marry
again, but his Injun wife was thar, and I was
thar, and some other folks was thar, and the
weddin’ broke up in a shootin’ affair, and Paul
skipped out.” -

“Curse himl” exclaimed the colonel; “he’s
got his deserts!"

" How’s that?”

“He’s dead,” explained Buckskin; "he and
Utah Bill got into a. ﬁght, and tumbled into the
Black Pool.”

“ And we left the scoundrels,” added the colo-
nel, “ waltzing over and under the boiling ﬂood,
chased by other lifeless victims of the pool and
of that cut-throat, Utah Bill.”

“They have sown the wind and reaped the
whirlwind, then,” remarked Bandy.

After some further conversation the four
moved on toward the cabin. As they ap-
proached it they passed three newly-made
graves under the waving pines, when Bandy
said:

“ There’s where we buried the victims of last
night‘s fray. That ﬁrst grave holds the poor,
broken body of June, Dumont’s Ingin wife. He
shot her a few days ago, but didn’t kill her, and
last night she died from loss 0’ blood. That sec
ond graVe’s whar Dumont’s best man lies. He
made a clean breast of all his and Paul’s vil-
lainy before he passed over the dark river. And
that third grave is whar Tom Krome lies_—”

“ Tom Krome, from Zine’s Ranch!” exclaimed
Darre.

“ Yes, be war shot dead in the ﬁght, poor fel-
ler.”

They passed on and entered the cabin, where
the return of the two boys was hailed with joy.

Colonel Dirre was introduced to Alvandcz
and his daughter, and while the old man was
giving free expres~ion to his opinion regarding
that country, Bob Malvern also entered the
cabin.

“Thunder and Mars!” the old colonel cried,
starting back asif from danger; “do my eyes
dfcelVH me! do I see that impertinent young
scoundrel, Bob Malvern ?"

“You do, sir," was the cool rcplv.

“ Get out of my pi‘»sence. con—”

“ Hold on, Colonel Darrel" interrupted Bob;
“you’re not on your Own premises now, but in
the great Rocky Mountains.” '
“That’s so, that’s so, boy,” replied the old

 
nltl‘l, a spirit of contrition suddenly overcoming
him; “ I’m an old fool. and I’ll betuon it! Come
around here, Bub Malvern, and sick me all over
LblSJ‘iOOlll—I deserve it."
“i o, no, colonel, I for i i '
been persecuted enough." g ve ya], you han
“All right, Bob, all right. If I ever git out
of this infernal country and back home I’d Le
glad to see you in Kentucky.” ,
tb“t'1;hati]ikiycgili, colonel," replied Bob, feeling
a ie at a ast won a brilliant v‘
the obstinate old man. mtory over
“I came out “'est for my health,” Darre
went on, “some weeks ago, but I prefer the
malaria of the South to the banditti of the
Vest; Augusta is down at Zane‘s Ranch.”
“Steal had the pleasure of meeting her a
few evenings ago,” admitted Bob.
“The deuce you did! When? Since I’ve been
on this tour to the mountains!”
y “13,295, Sir; she was in great distress about
0 .
“ The poor child 1
from here?”
f‘ To-morrow morning,” assured Little Buck-
skin, With a smile, “if nobody corks himsolf.”

Say, when’ll we get away

CHAPTER XVI.
HOMEWARD BOUND.

BRIGHT and early the next morning our
friends, accompanied by Alvandcz and his
daughter, left the cabin in the mountains and
started down the Arkansas river.

_Little Buckskin turned his horse over to Zo-
hits and the now orphan baby, that had been
thrczwn upon the kindness and charity of the
par y.

' On the evening of the second day of their
Eiurney the party reached the cabin of Little
uckskin, where they remained over night.

' The young hunter had expected to ﬁnd his
little home in ashes, but to his surprise he found
everything as he had left it. The Indians had
not returned, and, as he afterward learned,
they had only made a wild dash through that
section of.the country on a horse and cattle-
stealing raid—stopping only to kill such of their
enemies as could offer no resistance.

Remaining over night at the young hunter’s
cabin, the party resumed their journey the
next morning, Buckskin Phil going on with
them.

In due course of time they reached Zane’s
Ranch, and here the party broke up, after a
day’s sojourn.

Sei'ior Alvandcz and his daughter were the ﬁrst
to deparr. Old Kit Bandy and Ichabod Flea,
who had joined the company in the mountains,
gomg With them to assist in establishing the
innocence of AlvandI-z of the murder of
Arizpa.

Before parting Zonita and young Rollins held
a private interview, and when they bade each
other good-by it was with the sublime conscious-
ness that the future held greater happiness in
store for them both. .

And before leaving Zane’s Bob Malvern re—
ceived a second invitation from Colonel Darre
to visit them at their home, in Kentucky, and
when Augusta learned of her father‘s reconcilia-
tion she told her lover that when he came to see
them she would name the day when they would
realize the fulﬁllment of their cherished hopes.

The amateur hunters remained fully a month
longer with Little Buckskin, putting in the time
in hunting and trapping with splendid success—
ﬁnally ending their season of sport in a grand
buffalo hunt over on the head-waters of the Re-
publican under the leadership of the Boy Cen-
taur of the Prairies, Little Buckskin.

THE END.

 
Casual Mention.

 
JOHN SWEATNAM, of Howard county, M0,,
has twenty~four children, twenty-one being
boys, all of whom were in the Confederate
army.

AT Bethany, Pa., recently, Thos. Avery,
while shoveling snow out of his yard, discovered
buried in the snow a hen which he had missed
for ten days. She had packed the snow down
and made a room the size of a bushel basket.
Beyond the loss of ﬂesh incident to the long fast
the hen was unharmed.

THE other day a quail, pursued by a hawk,
ﬂew against a window- ane made of twenty-six—
ounce crystal sheet-g ass, in a residence near
Petaluma, Cal., went through the glass like a
shot, making a. hole about six inches in diame-
ter, and landed in a work—basket in the room
unhurt, cowering with fear.

AT a recent meeting of surgeons and of-
ﬁcers of the Pennsylvania Railroad Com any
to arrange for medical and surgical supplies to
be placed on trains and at each station on the
road, the question of adding alcoholic stimu-
lants to the supplies was at once rejected, some
of the surgeons claiming that in case of shock
from injury it was worthless.

CAMEL-REARING is not as important an indus-
try in Russia nowadays as it was in years gone
by, the goat ranches having superseded it.
There are only about 250000 camels there
now, while there are over 500,000 goats. The
latter is now the principal occupation in the
mountainous portions of the Caucasus, and it
brought in over $100,000 to the people engaged
in it in 1 77.

A PRETTY fashion is to announce a birth by
sending to friends handsome illuminated cards,
properly inscribed. In Paris the color of the
card denotes the sex, a. pale-blue card, emblaz-
oned with dark-blue and silver letters, being for
a boy, and pale pink with rose and silver for a
girl. In the left corner are the father’s coat-of-
arms and a monogram, and the particular sign
gt tilile zodiac dominant at the time of the child’s

irt .

AT a beneﬁt entertainment in New Haven
one of the incidents of the money getting was
a mock auction sale of old maids. There were
thirteen of these spinsters, and the bidding was
spirited; but its results reﬂected on the per-
spicacity of the gentlemen who did the bid-
ding, for after the unmasking, the chattel who
had commanded the fewest offers and was
knocked down at the humiliating ﬁgure of 23
cents, proved to be the handsomest and wealthi-
est young woman of the city.

A NEW HAMPSHIRE correspondent writes:—
“ In Warner there is a school—district in which
ﬁfty years ago there were some forty scholars.
and now there is but one. For a distance of
tw0 and a half miles on a traveled road in the
south part of the town, where sixty years ago
there were thirty homesteads, cultivated by
their owners, with families, now there is not a
single descendant of those families in the dis-
trict. In those days large herds were seen on
every hand ; now there are none.

A REMARKABLE instance of hereditary lon-
gevity is reported from Scotland. In a family
of eight sons and one daughter the united ages
of the nine amount to 572. Their great—great-
grandfather was born in 1624. One of his great-
granddaughtcrs is still alive in her eighti-
eih year, whilea grandson lived to be one of
the founders of the Scottish railway system,
having projected the line from Renfrew to
Paisley. He was Provost 0f Renf'rew during
the French Revolution, and died in 1837, 213
years after the birth of his grandfather.

THE great building at Salt Lake, which the
Saints have been twenty-eight years in con-
sti noting, is approaching completion. The main
walls are done. It is built of granite. which is
hauled from the mountains back of Salt Lake,
on great wagons or trucks, with wheels twelve
feet high. The walls are ten feet in thickness
and eighty-ﬁVP in hight. It has cost up to this
time $4,500,000, which has been collected by
the tithing tax. It Will require six years more
to ﬁni=h the work. Probably no other church
building in the United States has been con—
structed in a way to secure such durability as
is p0ssible to this. Some of those who predict
the early ruin of the Mormon hierarchy are
wondering what use they can make of this
temple.

 
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Published etery Monday morning at nine o‘clock.

 
NEW YORK, MARCH 29, 1884.

 
BEADLE’s WEEKLY is sold by all Newsdealers in
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BEADLE AND ADAMS. PUBLISHERS.
98 WILLIAM S'r.. NEW YORK.

 
@In this number is given the opening
chapters of Edward L. Wheeler’s

Fine Romance of the Mines,

in which the reader will at once become greatly
interested. “ Bullion Bret, the Giant Grip of
Git-Thar,” is a clear-cut delineation of a strong
character, and the story evolved from his acts
in the wild mountain “ city ” will be followed
with unﬂagging interest to the climax. It will
make a decided impression.

 
A Work-Life Romance !

By the Author of “John Armstrong, Mechanic!”

Next to be Given!

A Knight of Labor;

7

JOB MANLY’S RISE IN LIFE.

A story of a rough and tough boy’s struggle,
and a strong, impressive, suggestive story it is,
so full of intimate knowledge of what the Ameri-
can mechanic has to encounter as to read won-
derfully like a real record.

“ John Armstrong, Mechanic,” let us into the
world of the workers in iron machinery and
fairly illuminated it with its ﬁne delineation of
character and surroundings; this new romance
opens the shops, and circles, and conditions of
the Wagon-makers, and in Job Manly’s career
develops

Artisan Life and Artisan Associations

in a singularly interesting personal as well as
general aspect. That it will be perused with
avidity by all whose muscles, and hands, and
brains, are their best d0wer, we can well be-
lieve.

 
The Wide Awake Papers.

My Opinion of Them!

I SUSPECT that some Wide Awake reader may
have heard of Mr. Matthew Arnold; but you
will observe that I am not at all sure about it.
There was. a time, when, with “ American su-
perciliousness,” I should have begun this article
quite differently. ‘ With entire conﬁdence in the
general Intelligence of my readers I should have
remarked positively—“You know about Mr.
Matthew Arnold. IVell—" and so on; but all
the “ American superciliou sness ” has been taken
out of me. I am as limp as an English zaeithete
or the lack and staminaless Apostle of the Beau-
tiful, otherwise kn0wn as Oscar Wilde. I have
been reading what a Sir Lapel Griﬂin has dis-
covered Americans to be. He signs himself K.
0. S. 1.. which my Book of Decorum tells me
means Knight Commander of the Star of India;
otherwise 1 might have, In my “Yankee vul-
garity and ignorance,” have taken it to be a
typographical upsetting of the word sick. But
a man who writes with a great ﬂourish “ K. C.
S. I.” after his name must be an extraordinary
personage; and his verdict upon America and
its people must be incontrovertible. In the face
of the utterances of a Knight Commander of
the Star of India I stand abused, ashamed of
my coun'ry. my people, and myself. And Sir
Lapel Grifﬁn intimates that after traveling
“ thousands of miles in America” he has yet to
ﬁnd any ordinary workingmen whose literary
tastes rise “superior to the Police Neil-s.” In
other words, he docs not believe in any general
intelligence or literary culture, but that what
little education there is to be found in America,
and he does not think there is much, is only to
be found nmong the wealthy classes.

That is why I dare not afﬁrm, as I should
boldly have done before reading the K. C. S.
I.’s opinion of us, that any of my readers have
ever heard of Mr. Matthew Arnold. Perhaps
your literary tastes have never risen “superior
to the Police News,” with the single exception
of an occasional glance into the WEEKLY. I
only dare to hope that Some of you will feel
your minds permeated with a ray of intelli-
gence when I mention that there is such a per—
son as Mr. Matthew Arnold, an Englishman
who is utterly devoid of the “Yankee super—
ciliousness”of which his critical countryman
talks so much, but who is so bountifully supplied
with Simon-pure British arrogance that he is
fully persuaded that he knows more than any
other mortal who ever has lived, does live, or
ever can live. Mr. Matthew Arnold’s calling in
life is that of a critic: and a critic, as some
witty person has remarked, is a person who
ﬁnds fault with other people’s ways of doing
thing; that he himself cannot do in any way;
and r. Matthew Arnold’s mission in life is to
convince the world that, with the exception of
Mr. Matthew Arnold and a few followers, all
mortals are fools and knaves.

It is hardly necessary to state that there are
a few recalcritaut individuals in the universe,
even among those who have had the supreme
honor to read Mr. Arnold’s work and to attend
his unintelligible and unbearable lectures, who
refuse to consider themselves either fools or
knaves. Not that this disturbs this monumental
incarnation of egoism. Those who dare to
doubt his opinions are not worth the faintest
reﬂection of his always profound thought and
speech. If you are he avers of wood and bearers of
burdens, if you are amechanic or a shop-keeper.
if you are a railroad-king or a banker, if you
are a “Bull ” or a “ Bear,” vou do not come
within his notice anyway. You are material-
ized, brutalized, irredeemably vulgar. Ac—
cording to Mr. Matthew Arnold the. world is
mostly peopled by a mob of barbarians. The
only mortals who deserve to liVe, or whose life
is worth the living, are the few who spend

 
i talizing toil and in seeking to fathom‘the inﬁn-
ities of inﬁnity, the mysteries of Wisdom, the
secrets of the unintelligible, or something, to
'that effect.

Well, I say the K C. S. I. had better stay at
home and devote his attempts at literature to
elevating, enlightening, civilizmg and educa-
ting the brutal and ignorant masses of the day-
laboring class in England, before he travels
many more “thousands of miles in America.”
and stupidly announces as the result of his ob-
servations that he found only utter ignorance
and a brutal taste; and. Mr. Matthew Arnold
had better not have taken all the trouble to
come to this country to tell us that we Amer~
icans are “irredeemably vulgar ”. because we
believe in the majesty of honest tOil.

There is not a reader of the WEEKLY but be-
longs to the “great vulgar middle class ” the
ignorance of which Sir Lepel Grifﬁn sneers at,
and which Mr. Matthew Arnold considers
without the pale of' any good or any hope
of future good. Yet there is more intelli-
gence, and widely disseminated knowledge of
people and things among our working-people,
our poor people, our people of moderate means,
than these gentlemen wot of: and as a rule,
more morality and true good-breeding than
among the ultra-fashionable. It is upon the
working-classes that all Governments and all
social fabrics depend for a foundation. There IS
nothing in the world more worthy of man s hon-
or ano more deserving of social recognition
than a life of honest, dutiful. unshirking toil.
Work, lowlihess of station, lack of wealth, do
grade no one. Only our own eVil habits, un~
clean thoughts, and vulgar tastes, can degrade
us. The man who is honest cleanly, pure, in-
dustrious, ambitious within his own-limitations,
and kind, lives a life—even though it be that of
a coal beaver—as beautiful and as worthy as
Mr. Matthew Arnold’s.

And are the workingmen of America as de-
void of all literary taste as many of our hon»
ored foreign guests would have us believe? Is
it true that the young men to whom I write
have “never heard of Mr. Matthew Arnold,”
and knOW nothing of his works? Do they read
nothing but some ﬁlthy sheet devoted to recitals
of crime! DO they know nothing of the great
questions, and the great inventions, and the.
great experiments, and the great people of the
day? Do they read no instructive books, no
monthly magazine, no weekly journal of litera-
ture and news, no daily paper ﬁlled with the
records of politics and evonts that agitate our
own country and foreign lands? Is this true
of all our young men who toil daily for a liv-
in ?

Ifor one do not believe it of them!

BELLE BRIGHT.

 
The Uiﬂapers.

Women in America.

A CHINESE LETTER FROM THE UNITED STATES.
TRANSLATED BY SOLOMON SHINGLE.

MY DEAR. DONG DING:—

I promised to write you something about my
observations of the natives of this Western
Paradise, as these barbarians style their coun-
try. Coming as 1 do from the oldest and most en-
lightened land in the world, I' must say that the
habits of these tribes are very strange, and
most astonishing to me. 1 have traveled around
a good deal, and, looking through oblique eyes,
and minding my cue,have learned much about
the moles of life among the people, who, I must
confess, are not what we used to think—savages,
altogether.

As they nevor kill off girl infants, the conse
quence is that the f. males vastly outnumber
the males. and, as far as I havo been able to see,
the former rule the latter, who seem to be per-
fectly well satisﬁed With this odd state of af-
fairs. With us, you know, woman is hardly
ever mentioned in our vocabulary; she knows
her place, stays there, and is seldom seen, even
by her husband, and you can imagine what an
ii ncelestial sight it is to see females enjoying the
liberty of the street and of the public places,
while the men are obliged to step aside often in
the mud to get out of their way, and make the
most servile obeisances to them as they pass by
in all the glory of queens. I must say that I
have been set back—several thousand years—at
this funny and absurd sight.

In public conveyances I have even seen men
sometimes get up and yield the women
their seats, when they themselves were obliged
to stand, though some men, possessing true
Chinese common-sense notions, kept their seats
and allowed the women to stand.

In the matter of beauty the women here
are not to be compared with ours. They lack
the pure copper-colored complexion that sets
ours far ahead of the world, and they have not
the beautiful eyes, out bias, of ours, and I have
not yet seen a cross eyed woman among them.
They have big feet, and don’t have that su-
perb wobble when they walk which shows such
celestial grace. Now, living in China as you
do, from what few Chinese women you have
seen you can form a picture on a screen of just
how curious these women appear.

Now you can call me a ﬂowery liar from
away up at Oshkosh, but the men actually wor-
ship the women I have described, and even
shamelessly show their reVerence in public as
well as in private. and b0w before them asa
Chinaman only bows to a wooden female idol
in the temple of the great Whang Whang.

The men profess to have somethin which
they call “love” for the women. y dear
Dong Ding, you will hardly comprehend just
what that word means, and I hardly know my-
self, never having been aﬂlicted with anything
of the kind, and I hope we never will be. >
The young men take the disease at a very
early age, just after they get over the measles,
and it is pretty apt to last through life, if they
don’t get married. After that, much of the
Chinese notion seems to prevail, as far as I have
observed. r

From what I have seen of love it appears
to be a feeling in the heart that affects
the brain, a heart—longing that produces short-
sightedness, a something in the heart that is too
rich for the blood; the mind then sweetens on
the object of its adoration and it sticks there
and dotes; you ought to see how he dotesl The
young native who gets .the complaint is ﬁt for
nothing else. He gets the picture of his girl
and goes off to the woodshed and sits on the si-
lent, sentimental saw-buck, and gazes and gazes,
and breaks out into rapturous soliloquies that
everybody who would happen to overhear—ex-
cept his girl—would say he ought to go to the
asylum, or Congress.

He steals around to the girl’s bungalow when
he knows the old man-darin isn’t at home, and
stays there till he hears the front gate open,
worshiping at what he calls “ the shrine of
beauty,” on his knees vowing he will eVer be
her slave—her slave! Think of it! And he gen-
erally is: while he even goes so far as to say he
cannot live without her! I have got so I can
tell, in a minute, when I see two lovers on the
street by the dippery, or rather, spoony, atten-
tion which the young native pays to his girl,
and the rather savage way he looks whenever
any passer-by lets his eyes linger too long upon
the passing object of his aﬂ’ect'ions, as they call
it; for, on my honor as a truthful disciple of
Confucius, the long preliminary business before
actual marriage, which often takes years, is
carried on by these natives in broad daylightas
well as in the parlor at home, the old man fur-
nishing the fuel to accelerate the ﬂame!

My beloved brother of my inner heart, just
imagine yourself strolling down the thronged
streets of Maw Mee with a young girl on your
arm, and you carrying her parasol OVer her to
keep the sun oﬂ’, occasionally stopping at an
icescreamery or a peanut stand to supply the
exhaustion of the eifort. \Vhat a celestial ﬁg
ure you would cut! Why, the eyes of the peo-
ple would stand straight up and down.

A native here does not have to go and buy a
wife of her parents. But see how nicely the
laws of philosophy run in the scale of general

asking, and not wait so very long for the an-
swer sometimes, but the cost comes afterward.
In the long run they pay more for wives here
than we do where we can keep one on rice, and
she is very well contented to stay in the house
and therefore is at little expense for dress-parade
in public.

The costumes of the women in public are
gay, and the streets here are gorgeous with
them, and look like avenues through the ﬂow-
ery realms of All Shough, . and none of the
natives think its. matter of much thought or
moment except the gazelle—eyed dude, a new
species of native developed in this clime by the
summer suns, who stands monumentally on the
corners, and by the way he poses and stares at
the females looks as if he had just been hatched
out of an oyster shell and opened his eyes in a
sphere which he did not know what tomake of.
I myself stare at them so much for more obser-
vation that I am afraid I shall be taken for a
mildheaded dude myself and run against .a
big brother, or husband, which of a necessity is
often the case, as the women are abroad so
much.

After all, my dear friend, I, who have jour-
neyed over many lands, must say the native
women here are about next to our own in
beauty and loveliness. Of course there can be
no equals of our own women, in these matters,
and if I were to remain here long— But I
must pause. This is a wonderful country.

CHIN CHIN.

 
Mexican Money.

TREATING of Mexico‘s anti nickel war, a cor-
respondent of the New Orleans Times Democrat
says: “ For a foreigner to learn the names and
value of xican coins is almost equal to be-
coming! ‘ liar with the nomenclature of the
streets, and this latter is a feat worthy to be
ranked with the acquisition of the Chinese lan-
guage. Imagine having to incumber your
memory with the following denominations and
their innumerable combinations : A medio-
centavo, or half-cent; a centavo, or cent: a
tlaco, or 1 12 cents; a quartilla, or 3 cents: a
medio, or 6 1-4 cents; a. real, or 12 1 2 cents; a
peseta, or 25 cents; a medic peso, or 50 cents; a
peso, or dollar, etc. The main objection seems
to be that the introduction of the new currency
was made awkwardly, and, many say, unfairly.
Instead of allowing the people to become gradue
ally accustomed to the new coins, and establish
ing them upon as ﬁrm a basis as the old, all at
once the whole country has been ﬂooded with
nickel; in the course of a few months it has
rained down about $4,000,000 worth of this base
metal, which has been made the object of such
iniquitous speculation that its value has depre-
ciated to almost nothing. ”

 
The Jackass Bird.

EVERYBODY has heard of the Jackass Bird,
but few persons ever have seen one, evon in our
menageries or museums. A gentleman in Aus-
tralia, writing to the Philadelphia Times, makes
this pleasing reference to the laughing, loving
bird :——-

“ Angels and ministers, what is that?” “ The
laughing jackass l" For once I admire an Aus—
tralian descriptive name. This merry bird, be-
ginning with a quaint] y human ha! ha! ha!
gradually rises to a regular hoe—haw, as if it had
need to hold its sides and inhale quick breaths in
sheer inability to arrest its inextihguishable
mirth. Its character as the “ Laughing Philoso-
pher "of the Australian woods is borne out by i:s
appearance. ltseems a kind of burly kingﬁsher,
dressed in white and brown, with slightly crest-
ed head and a. remarkably bright, penetrating
eye. It is never killed—not in Victoria because
its skill in destroying snakes has caused a ﬁne
to protect it, and not in other colonies because
of friendly feeling toward it. In the bush it is
called the “ Settler’s Clock,” because it always
sings at sunrise and sunset. But it also sings at
other times, and is generally heard in the
Botanical Gardens, ﬁlling the air with a laugh-
ter [which would have delighted the soul of
Carlyle.”

 
The Deacon’s Dog.

A GOOD story is told of the presence of mind
of a New Hampshire deacon who was very fond
of dogs. He had one valuable setter that he
had trained himself, and that, understood his
every word and slightest gest'ure with an al-
most human intelligence.

One evening at a prayer-meeting the good
man was offering an earnest exhortation and
the people sat with bowed heads, giving earnest
attention. The audience faced the stand where
set the pastor; the doors opened on either side.
All at once one of the doors, which had been
left ajar, was pushed open and the handsome
head of the deacon’s favorite setter was thrust
in. The head was followed by the body, and the
dog in toto had just started with a joyful bound
toward his master.

The deacon generally knew what was going
on about him. whether he was praying or shoot-
ing, and the ﬁrst movement of the intruder at-
tracted his attention. Quick as a ﬂash the dea-
con, raising his hand with a warning gesture,
exclaimed: “ Thou hast given us our charge ;
help us to keep it.”, At the emphasized word so
well known to his canine ear, the handsome
brute stopped, as if shot. on the ver threshold
of the door, with his intelligent eye xed on his
master.

In the same unmoved tone, with a slight wave
of the hand: “ We would not return back to
Thee with our duty on earth unfulﬁlled.” Again
the perfect training of the deacon’s pet was
made evident, for Without a whimper he turned
as noiselessly as he had entered, and remained
quietly outside until his master appeared.

 
A Sleep-aving Contrivance.

HOW to feed your horse at six A. M. without
getting out of bed is a problem solved by the
Detroit architect—Mr. A. C. Varney. The Post
declares that V. is not a lazy man, but that he
doesn’t believe in getting out of a. warm bed
any earlier in the morning than he has to; and
adds: “ As he devotes his forenoons to looking
after work about the cit , he has Men obliged
to crawl out an hour an a half before break-
fast to feed his horse, feeling loth to trust the
hired man, who has several times failed to feed
the animal in time, and thus delaying him. He
put his wits to work and devised a plan by means
of which he feeds his horse in the morning with-
out leaving his bed. He merely puts his hands
up, releases a cord attached toa peg in the head-
board, and then‘nestles down for another hour‘s
sleep. The arrangement is very simple, consist-
ing of a closed feed box over the open box in
the horse's stall in the barn, a. drop bottom, a
weight, a cord and half a dozen pulleys. The

. grain is put in the box in the evoning. A cord

attached to the spring-catch of the trap in the
bottom runs up and over a pulley in the loft of
the barn, descends into a box in the ground,
crosses the yard, enters Mr. Varhey’s house and
ends at the ead of his bed. A weight attached
to the trap in the bottom of the fee- box causes
it to drop when the cord is released from the
eg. and down come the contents into the feed-
ox in the horse’s stall.”

Now let Varney proceed a step further and
contrive an arrangement for milking the cows,
without getting out of bed at six A. M., and he
will be called blessed by the Confederation of
Grangers.

Red-Heads at a Premium.

A CHICAGO paper recently contained the fol-
lowing advertisement:

WAN'rEi).——A bright boy, with ood recommenda-
tion from former employer; re haired preferred.
Inquire at ——-.

This caught the eye of a Tribune reporter,
and he wondered what particular business could
demand the services of an auburn youth. PussL
bly he was wanted to illuminatea show-window
or to warm a small ofﬁce, but the reporter could

 
their time in ignorance of all vulgar and bru-

balancesz—You can get a wife here for the mere

arrive at no satisfactory conclusion. Finally

I be resolved to go to the place and ﬁnd out, so

he called at the number indicated. It was over
the door of a State street hair-store, and when
the reporter saw the business-sign his thoughts
recurred to “ The Rape of the Lock,”and he be-
lieved he had struck a place where red-haired
boys were hired and induced afterward to part
with their hirsute crop in the interest of auburn—
haired beauties whose crop of hair had failed.
Approaching the proprietor of the place—_a
bald-headed man—the reporter expressed his
curiosity at the advertisement he had seen, and
asked if he might learn the particular deSira-
bilit of redvhaired boys in that business.

“ ell, sir,” said the man, with a smile, “I
have always found that red-haired boys are
the smartest and most energetic. They are
proud and respectful, and do not cut up like
the ordinary errand-boys.” _

“And you think it is due to the hue of their
hair?"

“That has been my experience, and I have
no doubt that if people would notice the fact
they would think as I do. In my factory the
majority of the girls have red hair, and they
go about their work industrioust and indulge
in no foolishness.”

If his little argument in favor of the red-
haired people should have its effect, hereafter
the warm-headed man or woman will have em-
ployment in preference to dark eyes and raven
looks, so there is some compensation for the
brick top-knot.

 
The New Diggings.

THE excitement in the West, over the Coeur
d’Aléne region in Montana, continues to row.
Big nuggets continue to be picked up. A iles
City (Mont.) correspondent reports that Mr.
Thomas G. Merrill, a veteran prospector and
assayer. says that'this Coeur d’Aléne is the best
placer ﬁeld now in the United States. He ex-
pects to see a thousand ounces a day produCed
after June 1, and believes that there will be 25,000
people there in the spring. Mr. Merrill will es-
tablish a branch assay ofﬁce at Eagle City in
the spring. The pans are taking out from $10 to
$100 a day to the man, and work has been going
on all winter. Prospecting is as brisk as in
summer.

A gentleman of Helena has a letter from a
friend who writes that he has found things at
the mines better than he expected. The stam-
pede exceeds anything he ever saw. People
are rushing in by thousands, all afoot, hauling
their blankets, rations, and tools on hand sleds.
Wages for labor of any kind is $5 a day. Meals
—that P)» to say, meals of bacon and beans—are
a. dollar apiece, and you wait for your turn an
hour. Eggs are $2.50 a dozen. Coal-oil is $5 a
gallon. One large house rents for $300 a
month for a drinking and gambling saloon.
Stud poker reigns supreme. he writer of the
letter says that money is plenty in the camp.
There is one woman on her way to the mines.
She is dressed in man’s clothing, and w 's seen
by the letter-writer on his last trip. She had
ﬁfteen men to haul her tent and baggage.

A pony express has been started, and the rate
for the smallest packa e is a quarter of a dollar.
Letters cost twenty- ve cents each when do
livered. The rate for freight from Trout Creek,
about thirty-two miles, is twenty to thirty cents
a pound. The expressvrider says the trail is a
hard one. The snow is very deep, and there is
one high range to cross. _ People seem to be
seized with madness. He passes hundreds
of sleds evory day, loaded with 200 pounds
'each. The trail is strewn with sleds upset and
abandoned. He does not know anything about
the mines, nor does he care. As long as times
are as lively as they are with him he is satisﬁed
with his resent function.

This iles City writer adds:—-“ The craze has
not taken hold of Miles City to any perceptible
extent. It seems to be greatest at points east
of here, and even with the difﬁculties of travel
in midwinter thirty to forty people have passed
through dail on the Northern Paciﬁc trains,
bound for t e mines. The cowboys on the
ranges hereabouts are the only persons that are
now excited by the reports from the mines,aiid
undoubtedly many of them Will stampede as
soon as spring opens.

“ The locality most affected is the Black Hills.
The Miles City and Spearﬂsh stage brings in a
full load every trip, all bound for the Coeur
d’Aléne. If this stampede continues, it will be
impossible to get men to work the Black Hills
mines next season. '

“

. Focused Pacts.

 
THE New England railroads are said to have
killed in the past year 221 persons and injured
535.

‘NEARLY ninety runaway couples from Ore-
go;3 were married at Vancouver, W. T., during
18 . -

ST. LOUIS manufactured 23,000,000 pounds Of
tobacco last year, the largest amount for any
one city. ‘

DR. BILLINGs says that one-half the colored
children born in Baltimore die before attaining
the age of two years.

11‘ is pretty hot at the Autipodes. Queens-
land, Australia, reports the mercury at 106 in
the shade there recently.

IT is said that robins are found in Powhatan
county, Va., in ﬂocks of ten thousands, and that
a few nights ago one man killed 480.

IT is calculated by a statistician that the
average amount of railway traveling done by
every man, woman and child is 114 miles each
year.

THERE are now in existence 108 schools for
the instruction of American soldiers. Nearly
eyery post has a. school, and these instructed
last year 3,355 pupils.

ATLANTA, Ga., has ﬁfty-two organized
churches for a po ulation of 50,000 people.
Sixteen denominations are represented and
have $1,000,000 in property.
WRITING in the Psychological Journal about
the treatment of the insane in Texas, Dr. Burt.
of Austin, says: “ There are today at least 600
in the ﬁiails of the Statel An outrage and dis-
grace.

THE wast. stream of emigration from Ger-
many is being directed in some degree by a
society, which aims to procure information for
its members, and to forward them chea ly to
desirable homes. The society has 190 edges
and about 30,000 active members.

THE apple crop of Missouri in a good year is
something immense. Last fall 40,671 barrels
were shipped from Platte county, for an aver-
age price of $2 per barrel, or $81,342. The or—
chards of Buchanan county probably yielded
frult to the value of $200,000 or more; Andrew
county about the same value. Holt county not
less than $150,000 and Nodaway county quite
as much. It is believed that full returns would
show an aggregate ofseveral millions for last
year s crop.

. AMONG the adherents of the Mormon Church
in Utah are 50,000 of Scandinavian and Luther-
an stock. A spec1al effort is being made to re-
store them to Christianity. The Presbyterians
are working through Norwegian evangelists.
The .Methodists have' appointed a Norwegian
missmnary to Salt Lake, where he has erected a
church ediﬁce and opened a school. The Swed-
ish Lutherans have sent a minister, who has
gathered a congregation, and a Danish Luther-
an clergyman will soon commence operations.

IT is explained that the year 1900 will not be
a leap year, although it is divisible by 4 wirh-
out a remainder. In order to make 'calendar
and solar time agree as nearly as they can be
got for many centuries to come, the Gregorian
calendar drops three leap years out Of every
four centuries, and these omissiOns are upon
such leap years as will not divide by 400 with-
out a remainder—although they can'be divided
evenly by 4. The year l000 was a leap year,

 
But 1700 and 1800 were not, and 1900 will not
e.

full name

Correspondents 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: “Adventure with a Maniae;" “Dying
Brother:” “The Oak Heart;” “A Pla ue,” etc.;
“Molly’s Mam" “Specimen Gold;" “ ‘ordham’s
Drive;” “ASpringFay;” “The Milky Why” “How
She Res onded;” "Soaking His Head;" ‘ he New
Beatitu e;" “A White Wail;” “ For otten Never!"
“ Ever Near;” “The Ho e-Haunt;” ‘ An Old Tryst;”
‘1‘);1‘he Babe’s Grace;” “ ettersto Bend;” “TheRich

acer.”

C. U. D. We do not and shall not publish a monthly.

T. K. Get a furniture polish sold by all drug stores.

GEO. H. We did not say anything about Roscoe
Conkling.

B. S. The Dime LIFE or Caooxn'r'r is out of print,
just now.

En. A. K. Of course you should have inclosed
stamp for reply. '

A Commune. We do not wish to see the MS. No
stamp for mail reply.

G. W. W. Apply at Brooklyn Navy Yard, where all
particulars alone can be ha .

READER. Send correct name and address and list
of novels named will be sent you.

LENNox. Any conductor on the railway will an-
swer your query. Indeed, there is a time-table. Get
it.

SHIP PANAY. Don Juan is No. 2 of our “Sunny-

sideiLibrary"—price 20 cents. You can order by
mai .

BANGLE BILL. As you are a city resident, 0 over
to the Brooklyn Navy Yard and learn therea about
the marine service.

INQUIRER. Eve revolver, by a good maker, has
its good oints. A mlth and Wesson is good enough.
If Wild ill had a recognized son we do not know it.

B. L. D. “ Scouts " are in such poor demand that
they are not worth ten cents on the dollar. Turn
your talents in some better and more sensible direc~
tion.

FRED L. Write to J. B. Fugate, editor Arkansas
Valley Democrat. He will be pleased to give you all
neclessaryinformation. Inclose stamp, of course, for
rep y. '

TENDERFOOT. The outfit is simply;e serviceable
clothing. As to arms, you need only a lt-knife and
revolvers. We should advise you to secure all save
the clothing in Tucson.

GARRY GREEN. Strictly considered, the expression,
“ The wages of sin is death," is incorrect, gram-
matically, unless, as Webster su gests, the word
wages be regarded as a noun sin ar like news.

R. L. W. You evidently have no conception of the
methods of authorship and composition. Nothing
is of any avail in any publisher’s office which is not
peggect as a manuscript. Your ideas are very ab-
su .

 
L. J. It is proper to invite any lady to supper to
whom you have been properly introduced, or with
whom you have danced, and if said lady invites you
to call, do so if you so desire. It is a lady‘s privi-
lege to extend such a courtesy.

B. J. W. The particles nor and or are not inters
changeable, in reality, yet are so used in the quota-
tion. 0" is to be used as the alternative of either—-
either one or the other; while nor is the alternative of
neither or not—as neither one nor the other.

MONTE JIM. Should say New Mexico was not as
good a country for a painter as any of the more
thickly populated sections to the north of it. A 00d
painterism more re nest in Kansas, Nebraska, own
and Minnesota than in any of the Territories.

JAs. D. Lobelia, one—half drachm,oil ofber amot,
two drops, and three-fourths of a pint of a coho],
make an excellent and healthy bulrdrcssin . It
keeps the scalp clcan, stimulates the growth O‘I’ the
hair, strengthens it, and arrests its change of color.
C. J. L. The French Government has a standing
or unrepealcd oﬂ'cr fora pructlcal perpetual motion.
There is no such oll‘orbore. The possibility of any
such invontioii has been abandoned since the (loo
iiionstratlon of the laws of the correlation of forces.

W. F. L. A royal llush consists of the ace, klug,
queen, jack and ion of one .vuil. (‘arJa you mention
constitute a “sti‘iilglit-llusli." It beats “ four of a
kind," when admitted in a game, but in many gniiios
the ‘ straight " is barred out, which rt‘lllli‘l‘H a royal

,ora straight flush impossible.

W. C. IV. A cent of 1705 is worth flvo cculs—«Ar-
thur is h. citizen of New York. He was “elected “
from no State, but by vote of all the SLIIIPHuMSPO
Webster’s Unabridged Dictionar ' for list of seven
wonders of the world—p. 158ll.— lilsoii is mayor of
New York—Buffalo Bil has not been in Europe
with his troupe.

JACK S. Z. Even if you do not know the )erson
bowing to you, 'ou should return the bow. 1% is far
more civil to (0 so than to refuse to return the
recognition. The person who bowed to you might
be. some one you had forgotten, or it might be a.

mistake on his or her part; but by bowing you save
the other person’s fee

dogs and act the gciitleinanly
part.

E. H. F. Our marriage laws and ideas are based
upon those of Great Britain. It is "unlawful" in
England to marry a wife’s sister, and such a mar-
riage is pronounced “incest” under the law but
this and several other old-time restrictions are wholly
inoperative here. Each State, indeed, prescribes its
own laws of marriage and divorce. but none. we be
lieve, forbid the marriage of ﬁrst cousins, or with a
deceased wife’s sister.

TWENTY-ONE. The initials of a. erson’s name are
abbreviations, and a period must ‘ollow each oiic.——-
You are mistaken in thinking that the title “ Prince
of Liars " refers to the devil. It was a title a .lpiied
by Cervantes, the S aiiish novelist and aut or of
Don Quad-ole, to Ferdinand Mendez Pinto, a celebra-
ted Portuguese traveler of the 16th century, whose
accounts of his travols abounded in extravagant
ﬁctions.——“ I)» morruis nil m'si honum” is a Latin
phrase meaning, “Say nothing but good of the
ca .

COMMERCE. “At It Commerce Party,.if the lady
ongentleinan who gives the party should draw a
prize, what should he or she do about it?"—\Ve be-
lieve_ the rule is that if the host, hostess, or any im-
mediate member of the family draws a prize, it is
passed as the cards are in dealing, to the next per-
son on the left; or the next person on the left who
is a guest. It would be execrable taste for the host
or hostess to keep it, neither could they bestow it
haphazard Without appearing to show partiality;
hence this rule—to give it to the guest on the left.

OLIVER T. J. If you are going to give the cards to
your married sister, you should have her linsband’s
engraved, preceded by M721, as: “Mrs.
.qucle L. Potter.” or “ Mrs. .1. Louis Porter," accord-
in to how he signs his name: but do not have just
“ 17's. J. L. Potter." For the eldest unmarried sis-
ter, you have the cards engraved simpl “Miss
Jones,” for an unmarried sister (not the 01 eat) the
full name should be used, preceded by Mick, as:
“Miss Gertrude S. Jones " “lilies Ida F. Jaime."
Your own should be “1513-. Olirer ’1'. Jones." You
can send your order to an large stationer, to Tif-
fany. or to R. H. Macy. y writing you can get
samples of cards, and prices.

SLow AND EASY. You are rather hefty on questions
for one sitting—We know of no way for you to dis-
pose of your ” comedy drama “ but to offer it to some
manager; that is the only source of salr.—-Wo think
the Mountain Meadow Massacre incident has been
used in drama. but only (is an indirect, not as an ac-
tive element. It is so used in “ The Danites," “e be-
lieve—We do not publish dramas, as such, save only
as they are adapted, in simplest form, to the school
stage, for our DIALOUUES issiics.——’l‘he copyright
cost is one dollar for entry of tillc——two copies of the
published form to be sent to the Librarian of Con-
grcss, of the first (‘diliifln.‘~YU" c'in dispose Of a copy-
righted drama on any spcciul terms which on can
arrange. It is your propcrfy. You can so] all the
rights to the work, outright; or you can sell only
the right to play it, for a certain royalty; or. for so
much per stage night exact a certain tribute or
honorarium.—~\'our letter shows you to be rather
poorly qualified to write for the press, being defec-
tive iiigraiiiiiiar, orthography, punctuation and use
of capitals. '
A. S. M. “ India proofs " are impressions from an
engraved plate taken on “bill: paper-w. delicate, ab-
sorbent paper manufactured in India or China from
the inner bark of the bamboo. and from the cotton
tree. “India proof " engravings are considered
very soft, pretty, and desirable pictures. “ Artist‘s
proofs “ are the first ﬁfty or one hundred steel en-
gravmgs struck from the new plate, and are signed
by the artist. They are more valuable than any
copies made. afterward. and vary in value according
to whether they are proofs “ one. " and “ two.“ or
h forty-nine " and “ fifty.“ Next in value come
proofs before lctters;" this is another fifty or one
hundred engravings struck off from the plate before
any lettering is put upon it. The greater the number
of engravings struck from a plate. the less the price
of such an engraving, the plate becoming constantly
poorer and more worn. Many uu engraving can be
bought for ﬁve dollars, while an artist’s proof, or a
“ proof before letters,“ of the some i'llgl‘ﬂvlllgw if
om»- could get hold of such ~Would cost poi-bans fifty
01‘ “lure dollars—Upon err/w Occasion you greet ll.
hostess with the some simple l‘oi'iiiiilii': “ How do
you (hurt—You should not go to any friend‘s. house

 
to visit without an invitation.

 
Fireside Ballads.

THE TEN PLAGUES 0F EGYPT.

BY H. H. JOHNSON.

 
When Jacob’s offspring ’neath the yoke
Ot' Egypt’s haughty sovereign bent,
And Moses, clothed with power Divine,

Was by the God of lsrael sent
To ask his people’s full release
From Slaveryshateful, galling chain,
The haughty monarch scorned his plea,
And turned away in proud disdain.

God is ake, and Moses raised his rod,
AIM smote the mighty river‘s ﬂood;
When lo! at the command of God,
The rushing waters turned to blood!
The tinny tribes that sported there,
Within the gory current, died;
Yet mindless of (lod‘s people's prayer,
The monarch, (lod’s comman defied.

(lod spake again ;»all o’er the land
The slimv, leaping frogs abound;
(in left am right, on every hand,
'l‘heir loathsome bodies dot the ground.
\Vilhiii the palace parlors crept
'l‘he noisome reptile-s thick and fast;
(in tables, couches. robes they leapt,
While women turned and fled aghast.

God spake again ;—the dusty ground
Wit 1 lice in countless myriads teemed;
Above, below, and all around,

Like living clouds the vermin seemed.
Both men and beasts were covered o’er,
Their bodies loathsome to the sight;

Not one escaped; the rich, the poor
Suffered alikc from morn till night.

Again God spakez—thick swarms of ﬂies
In countless millions clogged the air;
From out the ground they seemed to rise
In buzzing legions everywhere.

Their loathsome bodies drop )ed and died
In ever ' dish of food and rink;

While sti l the living multiplied,
Lest the foul plague become extinct.

God spake again ;—the ﬂocks and herds
Sickened and died on every hand;

From morn till night the. carrion birds
Feasted themselves throughout the land.

The plague stayed not till all the kine
In all the land of Egypt died;

Yet still the monarch’s pride increased,
And still he God’s command deﬁed.

God spake again:—a foul disease
Made loathsome each Egyptian form;
With bated breath and trembling knees
[n vain they sought to stay its storm.
The people we t and moaned in pain.
Physicians’ 5 ill accomﬁilished naught;
On heathen gods they ca ed in vain,
Their pleadings wild no succor brought.

Again God spake g—ﬁerce lightnings ﬂashed,
Loud thunder rolled along the sky:

The rain and hail in volumes dashed,
A hurricane went SWeeping by.

The people cried in sore aﬁfright,
Destruction hovered like a pail,

Thick clouds obscured the noonoay light,
And midnight darkness coverch all.

God s ake again; a countless swarm
Of uzzing locusts ﬁlled the air;
In hordes like a destroying storm,

They ﬁlled the country everywhere.
Each blade of grass, and herb, and ﬂower,
Each leaf on shrub and vine and tree,
With hungry haste did they devour,

Till all was barren as the sea.

Again God spakez~and darkest night
Enshrouded all of Egypt‘s land;

Through this (lee gloom no ray of light
Could pierce With radiance soft and bland.

So dark that lamps refused to burn,
So dense, the darkness might be felt:

In vain unto their gods they turn;
Powerless their gods the gloom to melt.

God spake once more;—a wailing sound
Of anguish rose on every side;
Death reigned in every home around,
The first-born of each household died.
The high, the low, the. rich the poor,
N 0 house esca ied the mandate dread;
From palace ha is and cabin door
Echoed the mourning for the dead.

Then trembled l’hara h in dread;
llis princely limbs ith feardid shake;
'l‘he. cries of mourning for the dead
hid his hard heart with horror wake;
And with a trembling voice. he gave
(‘oinmandmcnt for their liberty;
The fetters fell from off the. slave
And Jacob’s offspring went forth free.

 
Bullion. Bret;

The Giant Grip of Git-Thar.

A Tale of Silvcrland.

BY E. L. WHEELER, ”
AUTHOR OF “DEADWOOD nicx,” “SEALSKIN SAM,
E'I‘C., ETC., arc.

PROLOGUE. _

“Dons ary galoot in this sheban .deSire to hev a
pleasant game 0’ cards, Wi‘ a s igbt object at—
tached ‘1” . .

This query was uttered when the mining-camp of
Git-Thar was but a small scattering of shanties; be-
fore the immensely valuable claims were developed,

and when “Molly” Maguire’s “Punch Bowl” was

the only saloon in the place. _
A delegation of grim-visagcd miners were seated

about the stove, in the above-mentioned resort, talk-

ing over the then doubtful future. of the cam ,

when the door 0 ened, a stranger steppetiiyvigghﬁg
n 1

the room and do ed his sombrero gal
propounded the query. _ . ,

“It’s devilish wet outSide, gents; supposm” we
put our faces to the bar and sympathize? he
added. . _

It was a “ go.” No one ever asked a miner of Git-
Thar to drink, and be refused. '

So the men ran ed along the bar With as much
alacrity as if they ad been called upon to repel an
Indian attack—if not more so.

The man who had so generously invited them to
“smile” was a goldcn~haired indiVidual: that is to
say, his hair was sunny and fell in proquion over his

shoulders. _ '
He also wore a blonde mustache and im erial,

was handsome of face, and had a piercing rown

eye of wonderful magnetic inﬂuence.

He was of good stature, and almost perfectly pro-
portioned, and clearly was no weaklingin a personal

GDCOUDICI'.

Doeskin breeches and knee boots, a belt at the
waist, a red woolen shirt, and his slouch sombrero

made up his wardrobe. .
A hundred more remarkable-looking
were easily to be found; yet a pecu i

run of humanity.

“Nothing like having wet on the lnSlde when it’s

A ” . stran 'er went on to assure,

wet on the out! the i, and balancing the
“When I imbibe, I
Slig hler
and let’s see if we can't drive 0 t e
omgaloom’ a rainy night with a pack of
Give ye my word I don’t know: much
about 'em myself, an’ I git stuck nine out 0 every

hoisting his beverage lip high,
glass on the end of his finger.
allus like company—congenial company.

blue phantoms of
pasteboards.

ten anies I play. But, ef I it stuck, I can pay .' ”

men than he
ar. similething
about his )eI‘SOD impressed the miners Wit t e con-
viction thlit he was something above the ordinary

A fourth resulted the same.

Mr. Silversmith scowled, while the miners grew
elated.

It was evident that they were playing “ snucks “—
that is, would divide the spoils. when they got the
honorable Mr. Silversmith cleaned out, and out of
the way.

“Just my old confounded luck!” the latter de-
clared, as the ﬁfth saw no change. “Somehow I
kin never get a hand worth bettin’ onl”

f 1(In the Sixth game he seemed somewhat more con-
I( cut.

“I see ﬁfty dollars on my hand,” he said, when
all hands were up to him, and Tobias.

“ I see ten betterl” Tobias responded, running

over his cards. I’d bet a farm on my hand, if neces—

sary !”

“And I a gold mine!” returned Silversmith.

see a hundred."

“ Two hundred, sir!”

“Good blufﬂng, but the Wild Oat of Wyoming am

as game as deer at Christmas time. I’ll whoop her

up to five hundred. Show upl”

“ Not 1! Seven hundred!”

“Bosh! bombast. Eight!”

Tobias turned to the other miners.

" I’ve reached the extremity of my pile, boys.

Hasﬁany of you any loose about you? If so, ye know

me. ’

The miners began to spill out their cash and dust

and among them made up a purse of ﬁve hundred

dollars, which they placed at Tobias’s disposal, as

at that time he was considered the square man of

the camp.

f Silversmith smiled, quietly, at this concerted ac-
ion.

“ Do you make it twelve hundred?” he demanded,

grimly. '

“You bet—at a jump!” Tobias assured. “D’ye

“ I just tip the balance

give up?”
“ Not much!” said Sukey.

of my scales of conﬁdence at ﬁfteen hundred! My
ﬁfteen’hundred to your twelve on my hand. Is it a
i go 9?,

“Yes. Show up!” and Tobias laid down the cards
—barely a good band.
“Just as easy to beat as rollin’ off a log,” Silver-
smith said, laying down his hand—the ace, deuce,
jack, queen, and tenspot—and raking in the stake.
‘ Are you done, gents?"

“ No! they’re not!" announced Mr. “Molly” Ma-

ire, coming from behind the bar, with a ﬁstful of
ills. “I’ll start the boys wi’ tin dollars apiece, be-
dad.”
“ Don’t blame me if they lose it,“ Silversmith
said, storing his winnings in his ca acious pockets.
“ Remember, however, it’s getting ate, and I’ll not
play more’n long enough for you to win back as
much as you’ve lost.”
They started off afresh.
Game after game did the stranger lose. in succes-
sion, until but a hundred of Silversmith’s winnings
remained.
All that he had lost he paid up in paper, and now

£II

laid down a hundred—dollar note.

 
The larger of the twain, a roughly-dressed and gi-
gantic mule-driver of the mines, had stepped fairly
in front of the other party, and put out his hand
with a strange leer, and the salutation to which the
other had so promptly and effectively responded.

The mule-driver was a typical specimen of the
“ roughest man in the mines,” and in brawn and
strength probably held an advantage over any man
in the camp. When sober he was not hard to get
along with. When in liquor there were few who
cared to incur his displeasure. as he was counted on
as an exceptionally “ bad man.”

The individual whom he had accosted was evidently
a new arrival, as the stage had recently come in, and
ihe dstranger carried a good-sized valise in his left

an .

He was probably between twenty-four and twenty-
eight years of age, and was possessed of an ordinary
ﬁgure, as men average, in proportions.

There was nothing particular about his form to de-
note that he was more than an everyday man, and
his attire was that of a business man, with the excep-
tion that he wore one of the broad rim, slouch prairie
hats that, in the eyes of man& uninitiated ones, is
the first component part of a estern scout.

He neither wore a belt, nor exposed Weapons, and
had no particular appearance of being a border
bravo, or a border hero: yet his prompt treatment
of the mule-driver iinpreSSed those who had thronged
around to believe that he was one of the frequently-
met traveling shows that did not exhibit everything
on the outside.

“Oh! Jerusalem thunder! ye mean skunk, ye’ve
nigh about squashed my ﬂipper into pumniiss !” the
mule-driver growled, feeling tenderly of the victim—
ized member. “ What kinder grip ye got, fer gracious
sake? I thort my bread—hook war wedged in atwixt
two ’arthquakes !”

“ If I had given you a friendly grip you’d have
thought still different, I fancy!” the stranger re-
plied. “ You trotted up as if you knew me, and pre'
suming such was the case, how could I do any better
than give you a cordial hand-shake?”

“ Cordyel? Tarant’lers of Texas! ef thet’s what
ye call cordyel, what d’ye call downright dead in

arnest? Lor‘ a’mighty, sir! I’d ruther hev a full-
grown grizzly hug me nor you.”

“ Well, you’re satisﬁed now you didn’t know me?”
and a merry twinkle entered the stranger’s eyes.

“ Know ye? On course [didn’tl An’, w’at’s more,
I don't keer ter know any more 0’ ye, in ther same
direction. I’m old Uriaher Knockemstiﬁ, ther tough-
est old he-howler in Git-Thar, an’ you‘re ther ﬁrst
son-of-a gun thet evyer made me howl!"

“Then. my dear Knockemstiff, it does me proud
to know that you. a cyclone so terriﬁc, chanceth to
be my initial conquest 2”

And, smiling, the stranger was about to continue
on his way, when Knockemstitf once more intercept-
ed him.

“ Hold up thar, pardner, afore ye o! S’posin’ ye
let a. feller know who ye aire, an’ w ar ye’re bound
to?

“ If that concerns you to know, I am best known
as Bullion Bret, and am sometimes dubbed the Giant

  
\

 
“My last game!” he said, grimly. “I’m tired of
plaving. Make it even sides.”

The miners hesitated a moment, but ﬁnally agreed,
and Tobias won the game.

Silversmith then arose.

“ Well, gents, I’m just as rich as I was when I be-
gan. So I suppose you’ll all drink at my expense,
and then I’ll leave you. I wish you’d give me back
In paper for this heavy stuff l” .

'Oh no! We like paper as well as you!” Tobias
sneered. “ We’ll all drink with Tobias!”

They did drink, and then, with a profound bow,
Mr. Suke Silversmith took his departure.

After he was gone, a slip of paper was found
where he had sat—an elegantly-penned e istle, too.

No unschooled galoot had written it, p ainly.

It was as follows:

“ GLORIOI'S GALOOTS or GIT-THAR:—These few
lines is to inform you that I (/0! thar. The fact of it is
when I stopped a stage, recently, a liberal-minde-
gent gave me the greenbacks. Private examination
warned me that I could not make them available,
and as I was in need of good stuff, I concluded to
exchange with you. As Git-Thar grows older, and
the tide of immigration dro s you more greenies.
no doubt you can get rid o the paper. Or, it is
very good to kindle ﬁre with.
“ Adieu, kittens, adieu!
" Ever yours, devotedly,
“ Sex]: SILVERSMITH,
“ ZEsthetic Agent of the Avenues."

The greenbacks were counterfeit! H
Silversmith had taken away a “ hoodle that was

good. I
Didn’t the “ galoots ” of Git-Thar howl?
And they all joined hands in solemn rage, and

to Git-Thar should swing!
“'hereby hangs a tale!
CHAPTER I.
THE GIANT GRIP. "
“ WHY, hello! pardner—haow d’ye do?

first and gave it a friendly pressure—~so friendly, in

and down.

swore that the next red-headed pilgrim who came

“ Bully Ike, my friend—how d’ye do yourself?”
and the second speaker seized the bony hand of the

fact, that the face of the other assumed an expres-
sion of exquisite torture, and be fairly danced up

I

Grip. You can bet I’m a lah-la!” and with another
suave how, the stranger moved on. _

“ By the patron saint!” Knockemstiff growled,
glaring after him, “thet aloot is wuss’n the shock
of an electric battery. ome 0’ you fellers what is
hankerin’ arter a cheap drink like I was, orter go
an’ fondle his paw! Thar ain‘t nothin’ cloven-futted
ner swiney about ours truly, the great, illustrious
Knockemstiff of ‘it-Thar but I know when I hev
got a su reem suﬁlciency. ’

“ Ho! 0!” taunted a miner. “Who’d ever thunk
it—Uriaher Knockemstitf skeerd ter death by a ten-
derfut, by Jeemenetta!”

“No sech a thing! no sech a thing!” the mule-
driver expostulated. “Thar war nevyer a man en-
tered ther town 0’ Git-Thar w’ot could skeer me, an’
ye know it, George Gumpert!”

“Bullion Bret tuk the starch out 0’ ye, tho’!”
chuckled Gum ert, whom nothing suited better than
to coach up a ghit. “Ye dassent waltz up an’ pull
the feller’s ear, you dassent, Uriaher~an’ you’re
nigh big enuﬂ' fer two 0’ him!”

‘Kerwhoo ! What ye got thet sez I dassent?”
Knockemstiig rowled. “Thar nevyer war a two-
legged critter t et I war afeard of l"

“ I’ve got a mouth thet sez so i” Gumpert declared.
“ I ain’t a bettin’ man, sir!” .

It was a well-known fact that the. aforesaid-Gum-
pert was the “weakest” man, pecuniarily, in the
cam ).

“ ["1] bet you a V.,” said a bystander, stepping up,
“that on dare not go up to the Giant Grip and
twist his ear or nose, Uriah, and I’ll treat in the bar-
gain if you do!" _ . "

“All right. Mr. ViVIan—I’m yer huckleberry!
roared Knockemstiﬂ'. executing a Igrotesque caper.
“ Hooray fer the old he-howler 0’ onduras!” _

And spittin on his hands, the mule-driver
pranced off up Elbe street in pursuit of Bullion Bret.

Of course a large majority of the crowd followed.
To remain behind, and miss a “funeral”_of such a
description as now seemed to be impending, was a
thing that was utterly out of the question.

With an easy, swinging stride, Bullion Bret had
made his way toward the ost-oﬁice, which was
pitched down in one end 0 Levi Schneider’s gro-
cery-store, next door to the new bank, but not until
the Giant Grip had entered the store did the big
mule-d river overtake him.

Bret had paused at the counter, and was exam-
ining some cooking utensils, when he suddenly felt

 
‘ilillllllllllllllul'

'lll unllnmmllluiub

A greenish glitter entered the eyes of the mule-
driver, and an expression of malicious hatred shot
atliwart his rugged features.

It was evident that he had no intention of heeding
the plucky stranger’s warning; for, to weaken now,
would never do. He would lose all his presti e as
being the bully and the terror of Git-Thar, and t ere-
fore lose, also, an innumerable amount of free
drinksz—for when the mule-driver asked a miner to
” set ’em up,” the miner invariably felt in duty
bound to do so, valuing his skull far more than he
did the price of a “ rat.”

‘f He’ hurt me, will he?” Uriah chuckled, with a
grin. “ We’ll jest see!”

He took a huge juicy quid of tobacco from his ca-
pacmus mouth, and taking good aim, hurled it so ac-
curately that it struck Bullion Bret fair upon the
cheek, and ﬂattening out adhered to it.

As calmly_as though nothing had happened, Bret
ﬁnished paying for a con le of knives he had pur-
chased; then he brushe the ﬁlthy mess from his
cheek, and——

Suddenly he left the ﬂoor, as though projected by
a catapiilt, and landed upon the shoulders of the
mule-driver, completely crushing him to the ﬂoor.

Exclamations of wonderment burst from the lips
33 tclie spectators, with which the room was well-

t‘ .

Such an extraordinary spring, direct from a single
standin position, was something they could not un-
derstant .

Down upon the ﬂoor went the two men, Bret land-
ing lightly upon his feet.

In an instant more, he had seized the mule—driver,

as though he were but a child and before any one
could prevent, Bullion Bret had chucked him, head-
foremost, into an open barrel of soft-soap, which
stood close at hand.
_ Allowing the frightened bully to struggle for an
instant, he then drag ed him out, and pulling him
to. the door, pitched im headlong into the street,
With as little apparent concern as though the victim
had been a worthless stick of wood!

 
CHAPTER II.
VIRGIE.

. ALTHOUGH Git-Thar was practically a red-hot min-
ing-town, it was also a Mormon stronghold, and gov-
erned by the Latter Day Saints in most res ects.

As the reader is probably aware, the ormons
have been colonizing rapidly in the Territory of
Idaho for the last few years, and Git-Thar was one
of the strongest settlements in its particular section.

Nestled down between the towering walls of a wild
mountain gulch, wlieie the very bowlders them-
selves were impregnated with Silver and gold, the
place might have had a future of prosperity before
it, had not (when the camp numbered less than
three-score of inhabitants) a large colony of Mor-
mons learned of the natural and unusual advantages
of the site and swooped down upon it.

At ﬁrst the miners had tried to drive them off; but
it was like driving away the grasshoppers. The
colony had come to stay!

 
A v llll? "kw—Keg!!!  11/. , ,,
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i" ‘  l  ' I h
I /' : / ,y/ /.___“- /
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Bullion Bret chucked him, headforemost, into an open barrel of soft-soap.

Arrangements were ﬁnally made by which the
miners were allowed to retain what claims and
property they were already in possession of, provid-
ing they kept at their own side of the camp, strictly
paid attention to their own business, and conformed
to the laws of Mormon legislation in regard to the
town.

As there was nothing else to do the miners con-
sented.

The Mormons built their habitations at the south-
ern portion of the gulch, and colonized there; while
the miners remained in the original portion of Git-
Thar.

One Elder Primrose was at the head of the Mor-
mon clan, and he was ruler-in-chief of the town; he
made the laws, and his deputies were scattered
about to see that they were enforced.

Gentile legislation was a dead letter, and the Gen-
tiles were expected to do just exactly as Elder Prim-
rose might see ﬁt to dictate.

As the tide of emigration began to swell the size of
the mining-camp, it became evident that little regard
would be paid to Mormon authorit , unless active
measures were adopted: therefore i became neces-
sary to multiply the Mormon male population, which
was done; so that at the time of our story, the two
factions were about alike in strength of numbers,
and in the mining part of the town there was a bit-
ter feeling toward the Mormon element, who still
held command of the camp.

This feeling was the more bitter among the
Gentiles from one particular and indisputable
fact—a fact that was plainest to the older inhabit-
ants.

While the power of the Mormons was on the in-
crease, the value of the Gentile mining interests
was daily growing greater. and it seemed but a mat-
ter of time when there would be an uprising of the
Mormons, with the view of driving the Gentiles
from the camp, and appropriating the mines to
their own use.

Within a radius of ten miles there were four other
Mormon settlements, of growing pOpulations; so
that any warlike demonstration on the part of the
Gentiles would likely prove disastrous to them, in
the extreme, as the different Mormon colonies
would surely band together into one formidable
bod '.

Tilen, again, there was still another reason why
the Gentiles were forced to regard their polygamous
neighbors with hatred. Not only was the Mormon

But, with this brief ex lanation, let us r
with the thread of our stogy. p oceed

With the mining element, their part of the camp
was called Git-Thar; while the Mormon section was
known as Pukeville.

The latter sobriquet, presumably. was calculated
to express the average miner's disgust for the per-
sonahty of the neighboring sect.

The main street of Git—Thar was likewise the main
street of Pukevdle, and accordingly the street as a
whole .wasa red-hot thoroughfare. lined on either
Side with the usual class of business establishments,
pecuhar to nearly every young mining metropolis.

At the out-of-town terminus of Git~Thar‘s main
street stood a comfortable log cabin. Standing back
a few yards from the stage trail, and surrounded by
a neat, whitewashed picket fence, within which was
a carefully-cultivated ﬂower and vegetable garden—-
a thing so seldom encountered in a place like wild,
rugged Git-Thar, that it was really a novelty and a
curiOSity.

A cosey little porch, with a thatched roof, and
partly overgrown with creeping vines, shaded the
doorway, from which a graveled walk, strewn with
pearly pebbles, ran down to the willow gate.

Day_in and day out, a large rustic chair occupied
a portion of the porch, in the warm months of sum-
mer, and a decrepit old man, holdin a queer
gnarled staﬂ’, sat t ere—sat there, and listened to
the babbling brook, yonder by the stage trail, and
to the Singing of the birds in a mesquite thicket near
at hand. ’

_Watched a petite and lithesome ﬁgure that ﬂitted
airilly about the cabin and garden—a bonny little
maiden of seventeen summers, with a face as pretty
as the golden sunshine that caressed the nodding
fuchSias and pinks along the graveled walk.

A sweet, intelligent face, of rarely pure sculpture,
was that of Virgie Jamison, set off by starry eyes of
exquiSite power of expression; she was a mountain
ﬂower of greater beauty than any other for miles
upon miles around Git-Thar; “ Jamison’s jewel "
many called her, without really pausing to consider
how appro riate was the appellation.

She was amison’s jewel, and old J eptha Jamison
watched over her With the fond adoration of a.
parent who had no other hope or happiness in life
than her greatest welfare.

They were_ratlier a puzzle, these Jamisons, to the
peoplle of Git-Thar’s magic town. The had come
to t e camp, purchased the cabin, an added the
many home-like improvements which now charac-
terized the place.

They never left their cosey home, except when
Virgie came to the store for such supplies as they
needed, or to deliver little parcels of sewing for the
miners; for upon the wicket gate a little tin sign an-
nounced:

“PLAIN stmo NEATLY Donn.”

Uriah Knockemstiﬂ’ had been the ﬁrst to notice
the sign; he had gone straight to his tent, ripped
his Sunday shirt in a dozen places, and handed it in
to Miss Jamison for repairs.

This piece of gallantry on the part of the burly
mule-driver had so excited the envy of the other
miners that there was henceforth a. rivalry between
them, to see who could give the pretty seamstress
the most employment, and she was never left with-
out something to do.

That Virgie was the prettiest girl in the town no
one was prepared to deny, and although there were
scores 0 big-hearted miners who adored her at a.
distance, they could not summon up the requisite
courage to approach her on the subject, so that the
fair daughter of the old cripple had literally no
suitors.

There was one young man, Val Vivian by name,
who often paused by the garden gate to chat with
her—the handsomest man in Git-Thar, this Vivian:
a very Apollo in beaut and grace of ﬁgure and
face. and possessed of t e education and polish of a
thoroughbred gentleman.

He was the relative of old Septimus Singleton, the
moneyed man and speculator of the rugged moun-
tain town.

How Vivian made out at the Rose Bower, as the
Jamison cabin was called, no one in Git-Thar exact-
ly knew, but the frequency of his visits seemed to
indicate that he was not regarded with particular
disfavor.

On the pleasant afternoon preceding the arrival
of Bullion Bret in the mining-town, Virgie Jamison
was busied in pruning some bushes in the little yard
in front of the cabin, while her father sat upon the
porch, in his easy-chair, watching her.

He was a man of ﬂve-and-ﬁity years, thin of
ﬂ are and evidently a long sufferer. One side of
his body was paralyzed from the shoulder down,
and he had to be assisted to move about.

His face was pinched, his eyes sunken, and his
hair and heard as white as driven snow.

There were outlines in his countenance betraying
that he. had once been a handsome man.

Both his attire and that of Virgie was neat but
very plain; the latter, however, looked charming in
a prettily-inade pink gingham,with a jaunty sun-
hat upon her fair Wealth of hair.

“Come, child, you’ve toiled lon enough in the
hot sun!” the old man called mm the porch.
“ Those bushes can get along without you, I guess,
until to-morrowl”

“I don’t know about that!" Virgie re lied, look-
ing up, with a smile. “I am rather of t e opinion
that they would miss me were I not to watch over
them. Look! See what a beautiful red rose has
blossomed out, to-day, papa!”

“ True, ’tis very pretty, my child. but no rettier
than you. B 'the way, come along out of t e sun,
child, and tel me what young Vivian had to say, to-
day, when he paused at the gate.”

“ Oh! nothing much, papa!” and the little fairy
of the ﬂowers approached the porch and seated her-
self on the steps. “He spoke about my garden
looking so nice, and wanted me to have him a bou-
quet made, by the time he comes, to-morrow.”

“ I suppose you will do it, eh?”

“ Of course I shall. It would be real mean of me
not to.” .

“ Do you like him, Virgie?”

“ Yes—after a fashion. He’s nice to talk to—one
can learn much by conversing with a person who is
well-posted, and uses such elegant language, as Mr.
Vivian.”

“ True. You do not think, then, that you have

fallen in love with him ?"

Virgie burst into a merry laugh.

“ Why, what an idea, papal Fall in love with Mr.
Vivian? Why, what in the world would I do that
for when I have got you?”

“But, my child, you may not always have me,
and should look out for some worthy partner in life
who would ﬁll my place as a father, husband and
protector, all in one.”

“Plenty of time for that, papa. I do not antici-
pate losing you, for years to come, and, besides
that, I have never met a man I‘d give the snap of
in ﬁn er for, as a husband.”

ept a Jamison did not reply.

His gaze was ﬁxed up the road, where a man was
coming toward the cabin, on foot—a portly, well-
dressed individual. with a smooth, fattened face.

He walked with a cane, and wore a polished silk
hat, which glistened in the sunshine.

“ Who is that man, Vii‘gie?” the cripple asked, his
features expressing unusual anxiety.

Virgie looked quickly up, and a little laugh es-
ca ed her. i

‘ Why father, you needn’t be afraid!" she said.
“That’s eter Primrose, the Mormon Elder!"

Jeptha did not look less anxious at this informa-
tion.

“ But. dear, why is be coming this way? The Mor-
mons belong at the other end of the town.”

“ Oh! the Elder is probably trying to walk off some
of the worry caused by the tongue-lashing of twelve
wives,” Virgie merrily answered.

The Elder leisure] drew near, and to the surprise
of both J eptha and is jewel. paused at the wicket-
gate, opened it, and approached the cabin, a look
of b~>nign satisfaction upon his oily countenance.

“Good-afternoon. Brother J eptha!” he saluted, as
he drew near. “ How does the day ﬁnd you enjoy-
ing yourself?”

‘ am as well as usual,” the old man res onded,
coolly, while a chill of terror swept through irgie’s
frame as she felt the Elder’s burning gaze fastened
upon her. “In what way are we indebted for this
Visit. sir?”

“Oh, I heard of you, by chance, and thought I’d

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4.45,.  

_ - " l let 0 l" he howled. twisting and screw- . I _ . . _
“ ,pose y"). look"), mu" fer: far?” one {Elmer ingla‘bgiig, andgstill failing to release his formidable his ear tw'isted With such force as to give him a keen
sneel'e‘l- “ You,” “0‘ ﬁnd much m this camp' )aw from the white, womanlike hand of the man he

. pang of pain. . .
hul "ﬁlm" Holt; Eggplnglilflttlirg‘ldlhﬁ “lay-I133]: liad accosted. “Oh! Lord, Jerusalem! Ouch! let Wheelin qutckly about, he found himself once
8 ar , ecause m .

, . ,. e darned alootpi more con routing the . lie-bowler, whose face re-
is Su e Silversmith, at your service Xndtlhgpi £22332 god zgvhy‘ Whafys the matter?" smiled ' the other, ﬂectsg altr-iump'lialpt L’f'll].red “The qed as how I
oat fx-pm Vt yoming. My motto is.f 1.11", 7 mg complacently_ u Hev you got cyanlprs in the stom~ l It}? me. e ﬁssu ’ tn 0] . uinox when
ciﬂhlllt and L0 keep Peace 1" the an") 'd th n ach or rheumatiz in yer consctence! Ye cut up daSSent twig yer sous , an e sadc e ' a
The ( rinks were homted and lowered’ an e me like’a hornet war cavortin’ around in the area bosom Uriaher Knockpmstiﬁ takes a are. uess vs e re
exchanged gllmm’S- ‘ about quits, am t we? '

drop down and see you. Then, too, I have seen
your daughter several times at the camp, and have
become favorably impressed with her appearance.
As the spirit has m0ved me to add another wife to
my incomplete household, and not being particular—
ly busy to day, I thought I’d run down here and
take your fair daughter along back home with me,
you see.”

He spoke with the air of one who was certain of
having his own way, in everything!

.ower being increased from outside settlements in
tab and Arizona, but their ranks were being
swelled from the Gentiles’ own party.

Man after man, miner after miner, and ruﬂian
after ruﬁ‘lan had alread gone over to the Mormon
side, and those who ha already gone were not lax
in exercising their inﬂuence upon others to follow
their example.

And although the Mormons made free of the Gen-

ts.” . . ,, . . . . . . . . . . '
” W e‘ll tr ‘e 3 Nb. b1“ ef we ﬁnd “Yiyleer pan ’ t ! Oh! “ B no means!“ BullionBret replied coldly. If tile portion of Git-Thar, Gentiles were forbidden to And it was .eVidently his positive purpose to make
youmfg“£3218;[lgilelqé‘rgij ef wg (310nm ﬁre ye'” ohl ohtl %’§l$:::h€:§ 1:111; {1111:1718 iililtfei‘jglllylg’go you tliink I allow every overgrown ru an to insult enter the Mormon section. Virgie the thirteenth Mrs. Primrose!

“ rsc. That’s erfectly right. I'm always
agrgeglglceu as long as there’s peace in the family.
' u )la ?” _
W‘t‘uétaglh'hygn lcotyirscl No one ever plays iiothin’
else in Git-Thar!” old Bill Tobias declared, lighting
his stubby clay pipe, and laying a revolver upon the
table, around which they became seated. _ “

The others, however, objected to this parlor
ame‘w and it was ﬁnally made poker, for ten deli
ars a side, which Mr. Silversmith cheerfully agiee f

to and selected his stake frpm out of the fat roll ot
fresh crisp greenbacks, while the others put up dus
l ’ .
agglngvgﬁldsn’t be bothered _wi’ sech stuff,’ Silver-
smith remarked. “Nothing is handier than gripp-
backs. A beloved aunt of mine was kind enougt 0
cross the river, recently. and bequeath 'nie qui e a {1) ue I ,
respectable hoodle. A large sharenpf it, howev e1, gjpén the main Street. in front of Molly'Maguue S
has been dropped, at the card-lt'a-ble ' that Mr. Silver- enlarged and improved Punch Bowl. the ivy (lilsttreli‘lolgg:
Almeamncns seemed to IN M1 9 ‘ ly contrasted iiidiViduals had met, as th: e e g

.. v w ‘ ' f 1 nd] ri ? me without retaliation, you will be surprised to re-
. Geﬁo‘gj‘ngﬁgj 3,5931” give yea r e yg p alize your mistake!" and With a suddenness that
S 2%? by! Oh! o-o-ohl Don’t know ve—never seen astonished every one present, his left ﬁst shot out and
beflcfre Please let me go. mister!” caught the mule-driver over the right eye, knocking
yeAnd great tears of agony rolled down upon the 111111 clean off his feet. ' h f
tm ping fellow's cheeks, while the attitude of the Uriah came ﬁatdown upon the ﬂoor Wit a orce
Sth p was of the most careless and unstudied char- that made the building tremble. _
3mg? . h .1 ~59  sameness: sitar
' ' ' ‘ man s an s1 e, w l e noc wants 1 scra _ , -
will? Egﬁiﬁtl’eésfgugﬁ seizure Of the ’ ing grlile ham‘i1 overdhis inji‘ired optic}. d ‘ J t
v - r ' ' too fast,” be ob- ! ye urne son—o -a-gun.' _ie roare . _ ‘ as
H he)“ 23:” 1%): gafgc‘gyeized dolefully at ye wait, me stag, _an’ ef I don’t git square w1’ you,
servedf gt l e te hand and shook his head dubiously. my name ain’t Uriaher Knockemstitf !'
msun 0 mm. in m} oung and oahead mining “You’d better apply to Congress and have your
The sce'ne Vrigid-Thar),Idaho an dated about a name changed to something more appropriate, or
metmpm‘s 9 1th 3 nts mentioned in our pro- else let people alone!” Bullion Bret replied, quietly.
ear later man e 6‘6 “If you bother around me any more. you’ll be apt
to get hurt, and don’t you forget to remember that,
sir. If you are aching to get hurt, keep right on."
With this admonition, he turned once more to the

The penalty for such an offense, except the Gen-
tile swore allegiance to the Mormon faith, was un-
limited imprisonment.

Thus, be. it said, in favor of the larger Mormon
districts, that Elder Primrose’s colony was more. an
outlaws’ stronghold, cloaked under the “ Latter
Day Saint” mask. than it was a religious colony,
based on the faith of the Mormon church.

In such a way matters stood at the time of our

(To be continued.)

 
“Yns, my darling, I will now consent to become

our wife. ’ “At last, my precious, you consent:
out Why did you not say yes ﬁve years ago, when I
ﬁrst proposed?" “Well, you see, I had not seen all
the t eatrical attractions then; but I am now famil-
iar with all the new plays and operas, and don’t
mind settling down as a married woman.”

THE Mayor of a town in Lincolnshire. England, re-
cent] went directly from his dinner table to court
to a minister justice. A man was brought up for
being drunk and disorderly. The Mayor looked at
the man unsteadin for a moment with blinking
eyes, and on the completion of the evidence said:
“Prish’ner, you—you orra be ’shame’ 0’ yerself!
You'll ’ave a pay fourand ten ence ory a month!”

story.

The Gentiles would have raised amutin had they
dared: but thev did not, and the rule 0 Git-Thar
was subject to Elder Primrose’s will. . _

And a more thorough-going, evil~disposmoned.
tyrannical despot than he never was possessed of
power over the people in all the history of Far West-
ern America.

Among his own clan his simplest word was law,
and he was feared by his disciples and followers even
more than he was hated by the Gentiles.

 
l0-

   
3;"

. l,

7
X"

   
I . . I I X I ' ' " ‘ " ' ' ' v The prisoner was removed by t e constable and the ,
. . . . s u ther pomon - ,. balmy counter. to price the goods he had prt Viously been T“ elve Wives ah end} gracPd his home, and ’t“ as . v ' v I ’ , ‘!
smith was in fair prospect of lo. inpcno (1 neous croth surged nOisily to and fro, one , _ _ I ‘ . ‘ 1 J 1 ‘v f r [h thirteenth maglstmte “as aSSISted mm b} 1113 Clerk. )
. ‘ l 1 ames saw mm 10w man, an " ‘ ' ‘ ' examining. said he a as on t it out 00x 0 e .
ftlllig’cggllarfggititxfee g bi ilhantly moonht night.  y,

  
, \\

 
I‘m..- _
“*‘,....,~.:...., 
- I, 4 ..‘ '
'I ’l I-'.

 
‘llwim. ll'..u.ivi-.

   
LOVE'S BEACON.

BY EBEN E. REXFORD.

 
The twilight‘s gloom
Is in the room. a.
The children cry. “Soon father‘ll come, -
And to the door
They run once more
To watch, as many an eve before.

The kettle sings
Of happy things '
That evening‘s coming always brings;
The ﬁre burns bright
Because, each night,
The hearts about it are so light.

’Tis time to trim
The lamp for him .
Who never lets love’s light grow dim,
That he may see
How anxiously
I wait his coming home to me.

Shine out. dear light,
Across the night. I
And guide my good man’s feet aright;
Shine bright and far,
Love’s beacon star,
To lead him where his dear ones are.

 
Old Pop Hicks, Showman;

Lion Charley’s Luck.
A TALE 0F CIRCUS RIVALRY.

BY CAPT. FRED WHITTAKER,
AUTHOR OF “ PARSON JIM,” “ JOHN ARMSTRONG,
MECHANIC,” ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER XXXI.
MR MOONE LOSES A TRICK. .
THE two shows had left Charlestown in com-
pany, as usual, and little Moone had .gone
ahead, full of work. The check, over which so
much had blood had been wasted, was safe in
Pop Hicks’s breast-pocket, not to be used unless
the warfare should be renewed under Taylor’s
auspices. . _
But Mr. Taylor had disappeared, and in his
place no less a person than Mr. Stone had gone
ahead; and Moone smiled to himself when he
saw the well - dressed gambler making the
rounds of the papers, and visiting bill-posters’
dirty oﬂices, trying to do the work of advance—
agent.
He had no fears of Stone.
After he had been out three days,_however,
he received a telegram from Pop, saying:
“ Taylor has broken his word. I’m going to pub-
lish the affair.”
Moone nodded and frowned. when he read
the message, and said to himself:
“ So much the worse for them. The story I
wrote is enough to knock any show.”
He was curious as to how Taylor had broken
his word, and was on the point of telegraphing
back from Wheeling. where he was, to ask par»
ticulars, when he was surprised to receive a
note from Mr. Stone, who was in the same ho-
tel. asking to See him. -
Quite conﬁdent. of his ability to cope With
the new agent, he sent word that he “would
see the gent!eman,”and Stone soon after walked
in

 
With a charming smile, which he could as-
sume on occasion, the gambler offered his hand,
saying frankly:

“ Mr. Moone, we’re on opposing shows, but
that‘s no reason we should not be on good terms
socially. Business is one thing, pleasure an-
other. Do you smoker”

“Not before dinner. thank you,” said Moone,
coldly. declining the proffered cigar.

Stone put it back in the case with a courteous
wave of the hand.

“Sorry. Not before dinner? \Vell, what do
you say to dining with me, then? I can prom-
ise you some excellent wine.”

“ Thanks. but I never drink wine on my busi-
ness trips,” said Moone.

“Well, you’ll dine with me at least,” said
Stone, persistently smiling.

“Thanks, but I intended to dine at the next
t0wn,” was the frigid reply.

Stone laughed gooi-humoredly.

" Well, you’re a curious fellow. You won’t
eat, drink or smoke with me. Where do you
intend to dine then i”

“ At Cohock Station,” said Moone, a little in-
cautiously, as he afterward thought.

Stone nodded and smiled.

“ Curious! The very town I’m going to make
too. I say, suppose I drive you up there.
There’s enough money for both shows, and as
long as we share alike, we needn’t snarl at each
other. I’ve got the handsomest tandem you
ever saw. Come, say you will.”

Moone shook his head.

“ Sorry to disoblige: but I’ve no time to drive.
Your people keep me busy, and I have to hurry.
I take the train.”

“ Well, I’ll engage you don’t lose time,” said
Stone, coaxingly. “ You see the fact is, I’ll
make a clean breast of it. I’m not used to this
business yet, and I’m only doing it for fun.
Next season, I hope to be with a larger show, in
which I put some money. You see I’m really
only learning the business now, and I’ve seen so
much of your work and admire it so much, that,
by Jove, I want to try and steal a few points
from you.”

Moone smiled. The explanation was so per-
fectly in accord with the ignorance of show
business displayed by Stone, that he accepted it
at once.

“ Well,” he said, “if that‘s what’s the matter,
sir, I’ll give you all the points in my power, so
long as you don’t use them against me.”

“ Oh, no, honor bright,” ejaculated Stone.
“To tell the truth, I couldn’t you know, for
I’m entirely at your mercy. You might stuff
me with all sorts of stories.”

Little Moone thought to himself:

" You bet I will.”

Aloud, he said:

“ My dear sir. I see you’re green. I was green
myself once; Every man has to begin, some
time. I would not willfully deceive you. It
would be unfair, and not at all to my credit.”

This was said with the gravest of faces, and
Stone at once replied:

“Then you'll come with me?”

Moone shrugged his shoulders.

“ If you insist. I‘d as soon ride at your ex-
pense as at any other man’s.”

Stone laughed, and slapped him on the back,
observing:
“ You’re a knowing little chap. I like you.

’Pon my soul I do.” .

Then he went oﬁ’, and Moone packed his little
travelin z-bag, thinking:

give him points to ﬁght me. But I may as well

to coax or bribe me into their service. If so,

eighty dollars.”
He. went down and found Stone waiting in a

To say that it was Leonard’s, is needless; for
S :one’s p)wers of suction were practically un-
limited.

Molone to a seat beside him, and then said cheer-
ful y:

“ You won‘t refuse a cigar now, I hope?”
Moone laughed.

ed off at a slashing trot.
Out of Wheeling they went at twelve miles

 
away his cigar, saying:
“ Your cigars are too strong for me. I'm not
userl to smoking such."

Stone seemed vexed. but said nothing on the safe card to play;
ruined.”

hand to morrow. he’ll know that you’ve played
foul and come hunting for you with Lion Char-
ley. Let go my collar, sir. I tell you I’ve not
got it!”

out of you. Empty your pockets.”

so refreshing to meet a man like you, who
wastes time over a minnow when he might
have 'a salmon. Let go my collar, and I’ll
empty them. You needn’t fear I‘ll run away.
I’m going to the station with you since you in-
vited me so politely.”

his lips at his inability to return sarcasm for
sarcasm with this little shred of a man, who
had so much cheek. “Here, get out of the
cart, and let me see all you have.”

pockets, with their varied assortment of con-
tract blanks, newspaper clippings, bills and
cuts, copy for advertisements and notices, and
some little money. He lea Stone examine each
piece, and passed him up a _dirty towel and
pocket-comb, among other articles, remarking:

they’re useful in country places.”

and the gambler swore a bitter oath and dealt
the little man a savage cut with his tandem-
whip, as he cried:

Find your way out of the mountains if you can.
I’ll have that satisfaction out of you anyhow,
curse you!”

ring of his empty tent, after the morning re-
hearsal, in a brown study, his hands in his
pockets, two days after little Moone had been
turned loose in the West Virginia mountains.

was reﬂecting on the fact that Leonard, while
he had not adhered to his refusal to go on with
his contract, in face of Stone’s bluster, had yet
cut off supplies for a time, and insisted that all
moneys in the treasury should be applied to the
payment of expenses, before he would advance
another cent. '
And Mr. Bownsse was calculating, at the mo it’s too late,
ment, how he could best increase the expenses, is: look out for Jim.”
to draw money out of his unwilling partner.

things and feeling at his worst, when he heard
Store’s voice outside, inquiring for him, and
the gambler walked into the tent, ﬂushed and
triumph ant-looking, to say:
“Bownsse, we've got them at last. Here, I Rabbetts:
want to talk to you alone.”
He took the manager to one side, and began more’n paid expen.
become of Moone.”

“Oh, I suppose the gentleman will
ﬁxed so he won‘t disturb us for three weeks at aftera while,”returned Rabbetts, cold! .
got a way of surprising people.

in a low, eager tone:

least, if he ever comes back.”
Bownsse started violently. ness, you know.”

“ Yes, and he does it darned w
“ Well, Rabbetts, I”
I sha’n’t move till

Taylor weakened

show going?”
“ Slim, slim, cursed slim. King Philip‘s on est
the rampage again, and Jim’s on a tear. We’ve w
had to put the chains on.”

Stone uttered an impatient curse.

“ I wish the brute would keep his work for asleep in their stalls
th‘e atrhilar show. I say, Bownsse?"
‘ e i?

get all I can out of him. Probably he wants pression, as he said, dryly:

“I thought you’d had enough of elephant
I’ll take all the money he gives me, and fool him. driving. Isuppose
Onceis enough to give up ﬁve hundred and you?”

“Who hasn’t? Jim?”

“Av. ay, Jim—and, for the matter of that,
tandem d0g-cart,that he had not boasted of too King Philip too. You see you tried to punish grassy knoll which commanded a View of the
highly; for it was a perfectly neat and splen- him, and he got out. He’ll know you, and re- country for some distance, w
(lidly appointed concern. member that.”

Stone affected to be incredulous.

When Stone had ﬁnished Bownsse said:

“ You’ll have to take the risk, Stone. I won’t

an hour, and were soon in the wild mountain stay here myself. Ifyou

roads leading to Cohock station, when Moone games, count me out. I‘ll sell my share to you career I might have had!

began to feel a little giddy and sick, and threw but that’s all I’ll do. It’s not safe to do what my hundred dollar fees for a
announcin
board.

you propose.”

Stone sneered at him.

“ You want nerve, that’s all. I tell you it‘s a ‘ Judge,’ ins
and if it succeeds they’re but what‘s the use of thi

when the sick feeling passed off from Moone,
and the gambler said in a careless way:

“ Batter try another cigar. now. lve a much
milder brand in the box under the seat. Try
One.” “

“Thank you,” returned Moone, dryly. Once
is enough. I won’t smoke till we get to the
station.” I

“Take a drink, then,” said Stone, in a good-
natured way, and he hauled a bottle frOm un-
der the seat. “ It‘s the best French brandy.”

Moone inclined his head. _

“ Certainly: but after you, is manners. That
might be too strong, likeWise.” _

Stone looked at him keenly for an instant out
of the corner of his eye, and thenvnodded ad-
miringly, saying: . _

“Well, you are a cautious man. I believe
you think I want to drug and rob you.”

Moone laughed heartily.

“ Never thought of such a thing. Why, man,
I’m not worth robbing. My whole baggage is
in this bag, and you can look over it at your
leisure.” .

So saying, he coolly began to unpack it; when
Stone suddenly pulled up his horses in a lonely
part of the road, seized the little man by the
collar and said savagely:
“ Yes, you’re smart, cursed smart; but not
so smart as you think. I‘ve fooled you this
time. Give me that check, or by the heaven
above us l‘ll choke you and throw you down
the next ravine. Do you hear?” _

The powerful six-tonier shook the little agent
in a manner that showed Moone he was but a
child in the hands of Stone; but his pluck never
failed him, and he looked his foe in‘ the eye
fearlessly. saying:
“ The check’s not here. Do you suppose I’m
a fool? Pop Hicks has it, and if I’m not on

Stone shook him violently. ' _
” You lie, you have, and I’m gomg to get it

Moone actually laughed in his face. .
“I’ll do that with pleasure,” he said. “It’s

“ Empty them out then,” said Stone, biting

Moone got out, and quietly emptied all his

“They don’t go well with your rig, sir; but

Finally, Stone saw that he had told the truth,

“Go to the devil then, you little scamp!

And he drove away full speed.

 
CHAPTER XXXII.
STONE's PLOT.
MR. BOWNSSE was pacing up and down the

The hands had gone to dinner, and G. B. B.

The show had done badly for two days, and

Bowasse was in a brown study about all these

“ N o more trouble from Moone. I’ve got him

“Good heavens, man. what do you mean?

No foul play, I hope? That won‘t do.” cheerfully.
Stone laughed sardonically. by gum.
“ No, onlya trick. He’s up in the mountains, give all hands a rest."
in the hands of a party Of moonshiners, and
they think he’s a revenue detective. They’ll plaCe,
hold him. you bet.”
Then he told the way in which he had en- tents:
ticed Moone into a drive through the solitary
mountain roads, and concluded:
“ I left him in the road, and I knew he would know, Mr. Hicks.”
try to walk to Cohock Station. I had my men
all ﬁxed for him, about a' mile further on; and swer.
Po p Hicks won’t have a bill up, or a dodger out, give it a chancc.”
in any town on the road, till he ﬁnds out that
Moone’s gone. Where’s Taylor?”

Bownsse shook his head.

StOIJe hit his lips.

,he has never offered

ost prominent.

 
subject till they had ridden a few miles further,

Bownsse shook his head. I
" i don‘t want no part in it. I’ve got a family
to take care of, Mr. Stone, and I don’t want no
coroner’s inquest over me.” _
“ VVeIl, then, go away to the next town and
leave me to manage the show for tonight,”
said Stone, roughly. “I tell you I'm going to
9 that show if it brings me to State’s
‘f That’s where it’
replied Bownsse, sf
it can’t be done.

s darned likely toland you,”
ill more dryly.
You can’t do it.”
“ Can’t I? I‘ll show you whetherI can or not.
Where’s Jim ?”
Bownsse sighed.
“ Lord knows. I hope he’ll be on at the after—
noon show, but I ain’t conﬁdent. If he don’t
come, I’ll have to keep King Philip in his
n’t do any such thing,” retorted
“Sooner than lose him, 1
beast, myself.” .

Bownsse stared at him.

“ You? He‘d kill you surel”
“Would he? Come to his stable and see.”
Stone walked across the r
where King Philip stood,
cured with strong chains.
The animal looked slee
a sullen ﬁre in its 6

’ll perform the

ing to the stable
alone in his glory, se-

py and quiet, but had
ye that boded no good to its

“Don‘t go near him,” said Bownsse, in an
“ You ain’t used to him.”
3 only reply was to take up a pitchfork
y on the elephant, which
go way he had heard prac-
irs, and ordered to “move
over.” King Philip raised his trunk to make a
when Stone prodded it
assaulted the beast so
SWearing and shouting all the time,
Over as he was bid,

ance fearlessl
be rated .in the sava
ticed by Jim Perk

slap at his disturber,
with the pitchfork, and

that King Philip shambled
evidently cowed by the ma
“NOW,” said Stone, triumphantly, “
I’ve not been round this show for noth
ve been studying this brute for
ything master me, long.
’t come to time to—day, I perform the
g Master Jim to his

onds, that seemed to him an age, during which
he lay there, sweating and palsied with justi—
ﬁable fear.

weeks, and I never let an

That will brin .
guarded tones:
Bownsse gazed on Stone with a wonder and
respect that found voice in the words:
“ Well, you're grit, ain‘t you? I didn’t think
he would have let you into his stall.”
Stone laughed and

elephant, and King Philip uttered a sulky
grunt, and went off at his usual sweeping trot,
followed by a man dressed in Jim Perkins’s

'abbed in the fork a ain
J g ’ green velvet and gold-laced ring suit.

ng Philip round, just as he had seen
Jim do, and then came out of the stall, saying , ,
Lovenvﬂle, the man running after the beast,
and every time the elephant stopped the man

on I could do it, and I’ve done it. .
goaded him on.

ownsse, maybe you’ll believe I can
exocute the plan I told you about.”

.Bovvnsse looked decidedly uneasy.
“ Yes, yes, I believe it,”
for heaven’s sake, don
good man, and you‘ve got the
but you don't know what thos

betts rose up, feeling very shaky, and rubbed
he said, hastily; “ but his eyes. muttering:
I know you’re a
grit of the best;
e beasts are when
g. He may obey you now; but if
gular tantrum, Elephant Jim
’t stop the mischief.”
Stone shrugged his shoul
cigar, saying obstinately:
“ I don’t care a curse for Elephant Jim. I’m
you’re afraid, take the
I manage this show
by virtue of Leonard’s
ave my own way,

man? It was not Jim. Not big enough.”

also saw that the man was not in full control
over King Philip.
himself couldn

(jets and llghted a wheel round on his pursuer, and threaten to
charge, when the man assaulted him ﬁercely,
and always ended in driving the beast on-
going to do as I said. If ward.
train for the next station
in reality. as you know,
money. Refuse to let me h
and you can manage him yet
you can get an
without me to back you.’
Bownsse winced, for he k
gambler spoke the truth.

He turned apologetic at
“ I know that, Stone.

same boat. I’ll do as you say. I’
the next town, and get ready for
me have my own wa
“ What’s that?” as
“ Pack up and move off
The gambler seemed
words; for he answered 0
“Agood idea. If he breaks loose on the
f be comes back to his
word, Bo wnsse. you have
oulders, after all.”

(1 emphatically.

and anxiety, till, all of a sudden, his ears were
saluted with a new sound.

y money out of him, the opposite direction.

new the daring which he recognized as Bownsse’s, that he used
for advance work.
Me and you s in the man, whom he recognized, in the moonlight, as
one of the stable bonds at the Bownsse show.
y in one thing." at a respectful distance, in waiting for the
driver. -
, before ye do it.” . . . . .
o be struck by the ringmaster, as he instinctively got close to the
tree. “ What can it mean?”

road, it’s no one‘s fault i
old quarters.
some head on your 3
Bownsse nodded his hea
' “You’ll ﬁnd out I be
Mr. Stone; but all I’

whipped up the horse and trotted on at a more
re id pace.

way, and saw the man in green velvet coming
back at a walk.
ve at to 59.
g y show, and the horriﬁed ringmaster distinctly
perceived the huge bulk of the elephant, close to
the tents, trotting round them, with his trunk
up, a sure Sign of one of his “ tantrums.”

Stone laughed scornfully.

' “Jim be hanged. I’
Elephant Jim was off on another “tear,” simi- and I can cow him a ai

lar to the one which had ended in his dismissal elephant-driving. It
from Pop Hicks’s show; while King Philip, re- and I give in to no in
leased from his master‘s care, with his burns
healed, gave visible tokens of “going on the
rampage” again.

ve cowed him before,
I know his secret of
s all bluster and nerve ,
an on nerve, my friend.” “'10 .
of the animal, to be followed in a moment by a
pandemonium of noise, as the wild beasts inside
heard it and scrambled up, roaring, while the
terriﬁed squeals Of the horses showed that a
regular panic was going on in the show.

 
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE RINGMASTER’S DREAM.

NIGHT had settled ove

r the little town of
Lovenville, and Pop

Hicks was rubbing his

abolical scheme to which he was a witness, the
s old friend, Professor

ringmaster ran out from the shelter of the tree,

as hard as he could go, toward the tents, scream.
ing as he ran:

hands and saying to hi
“ Luck’s turned again, professor. This week’s
es. But I can’t think what’s

fear: now the generous instinct of saving others
had overcome his fears, and he ran into certain
peril, Without a thought of himself.

ell,” said Pop,
in going home,
daylight, and we’ll

who instantly turned round the vehicle and
fled, while the man in green velvet came tear-
ing toward him, crying savagely:

after the show when this talk took
and Rabbetts remarked, inntin

that the tones of the man’s voice showed terror
vacant place lately occupied by the

as well as anger, and the ringmaster ran on,

yelling louder than ever:
“ They‘ve moved out

; and they’ll have the
best place at the nex

t town, I suppose you

betts saw he was a big fellow, with whom he

“ I’m running this show,” could not hope to cope

was the dry an-
“When the luck tur

us, it’s as well to ,
running straight for the show, which was now
full of confusion, and the man came up with
him and levoled a tremendous blow at him.

And Pop went away
Rabbetts departed in an
It was a lovely
“ Gone again. Pop spotted him and had the of August, and th
story all ready to put into the papers, when take a stroll in t
in earnest, and has gone off fore he went to bed.
to New York. He left all the work cut out for

you; but you’ll have to do it, or the show will
go u 1)

in one direction, while

moonlight night in the month
e professor thought he would

green velvet behind him the one screamin
burbs of Lovenville, be- ’ g,

the other cursing, till they were close to the
tent, when such a racket arose that both in-

The other show people, stinctively paused.

work always tired them,
their vans at the close 0
' to go on as usual, and the
“That’s all right. I can do it well enough; ness at other times was to
but I want to do something else. How’s the on the road, had celebra

granted them by Pop,

whose physical hard
d gone to bed in
f the show, expecting
drivers, whose busi-
harness up and get
ted the indulgence
by going off to the near-
groggery to have a little drunk of their
11

and now was pursuing a white pon which
had broken loose and was running strzi’ght for

stables, from the van to which it had been
ie .

with a wild scream of fury, rushed after it.

Perfect silence rested on the show, for the
p and the horses Were all
as Rabbetts walked aw
performers, such as No
9 ladies, glad to excha
in the van for a civil
the only one in
or] canvas men

ing, inside the tent. as King Philip smashed the
Wild beasts’ cage all

rush. and the next moment rose the cry:

cages were covered 11

The higher salaried
Tcm Fowler and th
_ “If he gets loose again and goes for the other their narrow berths
“This fellow’s a regular ﬂat. to think I would show, we’re not to blame, are we?” couch, had gone to the hotel—
Bownsse looked at him with a peculiar ex— Lovenville—and the driwrs a
were the only people left in ch
The little professor w
you know he hasn’t forgiven in his way, and enjoye
as he strolled off to s
the country road.

He went out about a quarter of a mile to a

as something of a poet gned to the introduction of ti

d the beauty of the night t - - -

moke a peaceful Cigar on .prning it down are invented and applied. As
i. now is, you must have the full blaze or

Egyptian darkness. The latte

proper, and the former, for Obvious reasons Off as soon as 1 make a raise 0

Will never do. ’

THE San Antonio Te 4 . .
following not ( xas) Hnald gives the

ter we shall

ith the winding
streams of the infant rivers that make the land'-
“ I ’ , scape at that corner of the Union so charmi
n, nonsense. I ve been round him more and sat down to smoke and muse.

than once since that, and
Stone waved his whip courteously, motioned to hurt me. I’ll risk him.’

B )wnsse shrugged his shoulders.

“ As you please. What do you want to do?” considerably
Stone took him to one side and whispered to master.

him for a long time, the manager’s face ex-
“ Well, no. Thank you.” pressing all sorts

' _ of emotions durin the re- man a man i the show-
He took the Cigar and lighted it as they dash- cital, fear being the m g mistaykn he hadnmade in en
’d only taken to the law,”
self, as he sat down with his
want to come any such knees and puffed gloomil

gmaster of a circus thinks some-
and Professor Rabbetts, with all his
ys, had a good head, and thought
; for he was not a common ring-

times;
pompous wa

He was getting old, and pondering as does
business, on what a

he said to him-
elbows on his
y away, “what a.
I might be taking
speech, instead of
gacts at ﬁfteen dollars a week and
might be called ‘Counselnr’ or
d Rab,’ and I might»

ring and can‘t get out.”

 
ed awake.

in. May as well doze here.”
self, fully intending to take only a few winks.

branches of the trees under which he lay down,

and ﬁnd the said moon high in the heavens.

show when the cages were open, was all round
him, and Rabbetts thought he was in the sta~
bles, till the nodding foliage over his head un-
deceived him.
The odor he smelled was the well-known
eﬂluvium of wild beasts!
For a moment the little man was about to
start up, and then he turned his head to one
side, as he heard a slight noise near him. .
The sight he saw nearly caused him to faint
dead away, and as it was, he lay still, sweating
at every pore. .
Within twenty feet of the ringmaster was
the enormous head of King Philip, the vicious
elephant that he remembered so Well, and the
great brute was alone and entirely unfettered I
To say Rabbetts was frightened is to under-
state the case.

He was completely demoralized.
He had always feared the ill-tempered brute.
and King Philip had often made him scutter out
of the ring, double quick, in pure malicious
sport, till the poor ringmaster had positively
refused to announce Jim Perkins, unless he kept
Philip out of the arena till he was through.
And here was the elephant, loose, close to him,
without a soul near him. ,
So Rabbetts thought, at least, in the few sec-

Then he heard a rough voice say, in low,

“ Get on, you brute, get on l”
Then came the thud of a goad, striking the

Away they went down the road toward

When they were fairly out of hearing, Rab—

“ Good heavens, am I awake? Who was that

So much he had seen in the moonlight, and he

Every now and then the huge brute would

Rabbetts watched them with great interest

It was the loud neigh of a horse, coming from

Looking round, he saw a yellow road cart,
It was coming down the road, driven bya
The cart was evidently following the elephant
“ Well, this is strange!” muttered the little
While he was wondering, the man in the cart

abbetts instinctively turned to look the other

Beyond him lay the white tents of Pop Hicks’s

Tlém, on the silence of the night. in perfect dis-
ness, came the well-known angry trumpet

Forgetting all caution in his horror at the di-

“Help I help I King Philip’s loose!”
A moment before, he had been sweating with

is cries alarmed the man in the road-cart,

“ Shut up, curse you, shut up!"
Rabhetts was already cool enough to notice

“ IIclp ! Murder! MURDER! l l”
The man instantly rushed for him, and Rab-

He continued his outcries louder than before,

he ringmaster dodged and ran, the man in
King Philip had overturned several vans,

Into the tent ran the pony, and the elephant,

Then came a demoniacal bowling and yell-

to pieces in his headlong
“ Run .’ Rim! Thc lions are loose I”

(T o be continued—commenced in No. 62.)
N
N

THE young folks will never be entirely re-

16 electric light

to private rPSIdEUCr‘S until some means of

He smoked away gloomily awhile, ti'll insen-
sibly the beauty ot the scene soothed him to re-
pose, and he was nodding, half asleep, so that
his cigar dropped from his mouth and he start-

“ Nearly asleep,” he muttered; “ too hot to go

The little man forgot all about the dangers of
night dews and malaria, as be stretched him-

W’hen he closed his eyes, the moon, in her
third quarter, was just above the lower

and he fell fast asleep, to wake up with a start

. For a few moments he was confused as to his
locality, for a strong odor, such as pervaded the

thickened tongue, “but,
man to lose as I have lost to-iiight. I’lii about
twenty-eight thousand dollars out, and the old
man would give me rats if he knew that I had
used that check of his, so, gents, I want you all
to pledge me your words of honor that you won’t
let on to anybody about it.”

 
r is not exactly

ice to its Siibscribersz—"Hereaf

Perch and suckers

ent of our populace

succeed

. It somewhat surprised his

for place now t inn

in muttl- ring something

 
man or sis.”
“Dont worry yourself; any time will do,”
Andrlowl: replied, as if the
publish a “St of “a a tie s lg test Concern to him. “Suit yourself
who go a-ﬁshjng on the Lord’s Dayngfido‘fatillotie) and you Wm sum we",
fiend usa string of trout.
ave too many bones in them to all
forget:5 thalt the moral elem 0w us to
00 o t 8 press to eradic to h' ' -
esecration of the Sabbath."a t 13 growmg 1y that I dm mm b9]

OLD SPRIGGINS went down to Florida the ﬁrst
of the Winter for his health, and did not

1'] ﬁnding it dying there, as man anotl
done before, him y ler had

son George the other day, when lVi
by the way. had not heard of the 0
misc, met the young man and asked: “Your
father is in a good deal hot .
when he was round here, isn’t he?”
Spi'ipgi‘i‘isl succeeded .
i e ie ( idn't know but the v ” n v - v ' '
ried off to meet an engagenigililf‘. “as, and hur- HM "Van “~th

have believed it. T

 
Andrews ﬁlled out a liberal allowance of

 
BREAD ON THE WATERS.

BY ERMINIE C. STRAY.

 
“ Here comes a tramp! Oh, dear, oh, dear!
I wish they would stay away!
I am tired of seeing the old and the young,
That beg from day to day.” .
“ Something to eat?” " Oh, yes; of course!
I can‘t refuse, you know.
Though I almost feel it my bounch right
To frown and tell them to go.”

But my eyes grew dim with sudden tears,
When I thought of the world so wide,
Where some are rich, but more are poor,

With courage sore! y tried.
And thought of one who is far away
On the ocean wild and rough—
Thinking of him and the hardships there,
I can scarcely do enough.

For one drear day there came to my door
One who a story to]

Of a day and an our, when far away,
He was saved from hunger and cold.

His ship was wrecked on a foreign coast,
And worn and nearly dead,

He would have died but for woman’s hand
That gave him help and bread.

And I learned from him to thank my God,
' Who kept me from saying “ no,”
That I never turned the tramp hungering away,
Or coldly told him to go!

Kale Scull,

 
The Decoy Detective;

Joe Phenix’p Still Hunt.

A Romance of the Upper Crust and Lower Crust

of New York Life.
BY ALBERT W. AIKEN,

AUTHOR OF “THE BAT OF THE BATTERY.” “ THE

DEMON DETECTIVE,” “RED RICHARD,” ETC.

CHAPT‘E‘E—XXIII.
THE FISHERMAN.
“THERE'S your ten thousand and I ‘call’

you; what have you got? Can you beat three
queens?” And nervously Grimgriskin displayed
the cards upon the table.

“ Old follow, I am really sorry for you, for I

hate to clean a man out, but your three queens
are not good. Here are four tens with an ace
high.”

Andrews laid down the cards one by one,

and Alcibiades sunk back in his chair with a
hollow groan.

“ Take a drop of brandy, old chappie,” sug-

gested Van Tromp, really feeling sorry for
young Grimgriskin’s distress, although at the
same time he despised him, for it was only too
plain that he wasn't anything but a vulgar cad
with none of the manliuess of a true gentleman
about him.

Clinton, equally as ready as his friend to ten-

der assistance, although he felt fully as great
a contempt for the fellow, hastened to pour out
a lass of brandy and tendered it to Alcibiades.

‘rimgriskin drained it at a draught, and the

stimulant seemed to put new life into him, al-
though the principal effect of the liquor was to
completely intoxicate him.

But even in this state his low cunning did

not desert him.

“Oh, it’s all right, boys,””he said, with u
to you, it hurts a

“ Certainly not!” Van 'I‘romp replied, prom pt-

y.

“ Of course all the the particulars of this lit-
tle alfair are to be kept secret,” Clinton re-
marked. “It is all conﬁdential, and none of
us must reveal the details.”

“ Decidedly notl” Andrews exclaimed. “ It

would be a black eye for all of us if it should
get out that we have been playing so reckless-
IV. A little quiet game is all right, but we
have been going at it in- regular gambler style
tonight, and it would undoubtedly cause a

great deal of talk if the particulars should be-
come known. -

“Then, gentlemen, just consider what a tit~

bit it would be for the reporters and what a
ﬁre account would be ﬁxed up for the news-
papers, with some attractive head—line, like
‘ Gambling in high-life,’ to call every one’s at—
tention to it.”

The dudes fairly shuddered; above all things

in this world they dreaded the ubiquitous news-
paper-man With his ready pencil and his unlim-
ited “gall,” to use the vernacular.

“ Oh, we mustn’t any of us breathe a word of

this night’s—fun,” Von Tromp remarked, and
with all his sang-froid he couldn’t help making a
grimace v. hen he so characterized the perform-
ance which had cost the three losers so heavily.

“ Not a word,” Clinton chorused.
“ The Old man would make it hot for me, ycu

bet your life!” Alcibiades exclaimed.

“ It is understood that we are all to keep our

own counsel,” the host remarked. “ And of
course you understand, gentlemen, I hold my-
self ready to give you all your revenge at any
time that it may please you to demand it.”

“Oh, I’ll o for you again—I ain’t satisﬁed

bya jugl’ul!’ Alcibiades cried; “I want you
to understand that I don’t take a back seat
when it comes to poker playing for any man in
the world.”
The two friends nodded, but did not speak;
they were not generally supposed to be pos-
sessed of any extra amount of common sense,
but they were not fools enough to want any
more of the “ amusement ” for which they had
paid so heavily.
.“It was all luck to—night,” young Grimgris-
kin continued. “You had an awful run of
luck, and that is all there is to it. The next
time I go for you I‘ll bet a farm that you don’t .
come out ahead l”
"‘Very likely not; there’s no telling about
that_sort_ of. thing,” Andrews answered, picking
up his Winnings and stowing them away in his
pockets as carelessly as though they were so
much waste—paper, with the exception of old
Grini'griskin’s check for ten thousand dollars.
.I‘hls be folded up carefully and placad it in
his pocketbook.
Alcibiades watched the check disappear with
eager, hungry eyi s. '
“See here, old :fellowi” he exclaimed. “It
was a mighty foolish thing for inc to part with
that check, for I believe the old man would take
my sncplp if lie foupld it out, so you’ll dome a
grea even you 'ust lice) tha —( ’
with it, and I’ll redceJm it.” I t 10“ 6 part
“Oh, that’s all right; don
about that. l’ll lock it up in
can have it at any time,” the
“ And as for the, l. O. U.’s

’t trouble yourself
my safe, and you
host replied.

, I’ll square them
at of the old wo~

matter was not of

Andrews looked at his watch.

“ By Jove, gen tlcmcn, it is after four o’clock!”
he exclaimed

, in surprise. “ Why, I wouldn’t
be time has passcd so quick-
ieve it was yet two.

“ Well, let’s take a parting drink, gentlemen,
and then'we’ll adjourn to our beds.

. ‘Luckily I’ve a day off, for it was my inten-
tion to remain at home and enterlni

n my vis-

itors, althouvh it is something rather out
_ . . of i
ggins, who, line, but H u

ld man‘s de- thi
ru'

still, as there are ladies in the case,

s time I am obliged to depart from my usual
6

y . “ You need not hurry yourselves about
Sioung ting up, gentlemen; this is Libert

get-
y Ilall here,

3.0u know. and you can have breakfast when-

 
l'g ’ '3. It

,i

die?

1
1}
‘9

=0;

.

p

I
-. 

.Zm

of,
7, f

f

‘V
V.
5-4:?

 
brandy and then pushed the decanter toward
the dudes, but before they could help themselves
Alcibiades seized it, exclaiming:

“ Youth betore beauty, you know!" and he
ﬁlled his glass to the very brim.

The young men laughed, for Grimgriskin was
too much under the inﬂuence of liquor for them
to take offense at his insolence.

When the glasses were ﬁlled—this was the
ﬁrst time that the host had drunk anything
since the game began—Andrews proposed a
toast.

“ Here‘s wishing you better luck next time,
gentlemen. and no worse luck for myself.”

The toast drunk, all rose, and then the dis“
covery was node that young Grimgriskin had
taken so much liquor as to be unable to stand,
and if Clinton, who was next to him, had not
promptly hastened to his support he would have
fallen headlong.

“ Hallo, hallo, old fellow, you are considera-
bly under the weather!” Andrews exclaimed,
coming at once to the rescue and supporting
Alcibiades on the other side.

“ Yes, the brandy has got into my legs; never
affects my head though: I’ve got too much
brains for that!” boasted the young man.

" Well, that is rather odd, ’ the host admit-
ted.

“It’s always the way with inc—infernal pair
of legs, always disgrace me!” muttered Alci-
biades, who, despite his boast, was extremely
thick of utterance and beginning to talk‘in the
incoherent fashion common to the devotees of
King Alcohol.

“The air here is foul for the room is close,”
said Andrews. “Let us go outside; the balmy
breeze of the morning will be apt to freshen us
up a bit.”

" Yesh, let’s go outside and go a-ﬁshing!” ex-
claimed young Grimgriskin, as Andrews and
Clinton assisted him to the piazza. '

Intact the two had absolutely to carry him
there. for Alcibiades‘s lcgs were not the least
bit of use to him; he could neither walk nor
stand.

By mlis time the eastern skies were streaked
Willi rays of rosy light, heralding the coming
of the sun-god, and the breeze that swept in
through the Narrows, as the entrance to New
York bay is termed, came straight from the
bosom of old ocean and was laden with balmy,
health-giving ozone.

After the party got outside, Alcibiades, after
the fashion of some» drunken men, began to get
disagreeable and noisy.

“Let's go a-ﬁshing!”he howled. “Let’s all
go a-ﬂshing; I’m the boss ﬁsherman from Kala-
mozoo, yip, yip, yow, yow!” and he yelled at

the top of his lungs and would have executed a

war dance if he had retained any control over
his h-gs.

Andrews was annoyed. The public road was
between the boatehouse and the mansion, and
the early birds, in the shape of milkmen, bakers,
grocery clerks and butcher-boys in their wa-

gons, were beginning to pass along, and the

master of Bfithewood would gladly have given
a good round sum rather than have the report
become current that he and his guests had been
indulging in an all-night spree.

“ H do your tongue! don‘t act like a fool!” he
exr-laimcd. “ Don’t you see the wagons on the
road’lwnnd there’s some men in a boat below,
too!” he exclaimed.

" Let‘s go a-ﬁshing with them. old fsl’l" Al-
cibiades cried. “ 1’” stand the expense! what‘s
the. odds as long as you’re happy 'i”

An idea Il-ished up in Andrews. He had taken
a quick survey of the boat, and saw from the
lines and basket of hair. exposed upon the deck
that. it was :1 ﬁshing craft.

If h.- could arrange the matter with the peo-
ple on board—there were only two on the.
craft. a, Weather bo-aten old man and a tawny—
l'iiccd hid—it Would be an excellent plan to sail
down the buy for a few hours and thus give.
young (lrimgriskin an opportunity to “sober
u l.”

INot for a. great deal would he have been
willing that the pierlcss Sidoniii should know

that her s ~arwgiuice of a brother had got drunk

in his company.

A nd so he at once hailed the ﬁsherman in the
boat:

“ Hello, don’t you want some passengers?”

CHAPTER XXIV.
riIENIX'S IDEA.

AND now we must return to the two in the
sail-boat, in order that they may march up
abreast of the time when they were accosted
by the owner of Blithewood from the boat-
house, for, as the reader has doubtless guessed,
the two in the boat were the great detective
and his new ally.

The. girl had not had an opportunity to re-
late to Plienix the particulars of the strange
adventure through which she had paSSed.

She had been warned by letter to meet him
at a certain place at a certain hour, and a dis-
guise suggested.

Through her ignorance of the way—for it is
not an easy matter for a. stranger unacquainted
with the waterside to go directly to any par-
ticular point after nightfall—she was some ten
minutes late in reaching the dock from whence
the start was to be made.

And at ﬁrst she was really in doubt whether
to address the grim and grizzled old man who
was sitting on the string—piece of the pier, smok—
ing a short pipe, when she approached, for he
was as unlike the man whom she expected to
see as could possibly be.

But Phenix, being posted in regard to her
disguise, recognized the girl at once.

“You are late,” he said, speaking in his
natural voice, so that she might know who he

 
was.

She explained that she had had considerable
difﬁculty in ﬁnding her way.

Then they embarked, and for the ﬁrst half—
hour or so the veteran was busy in instructing
her how she could aid him in sailing the boat.

Then they encountered the police patrol, and
with what happened after that the reader is
already acquainted.

The girl became so interested in the recital
by the detective of the difﬁcult case which he
had undertaken that not until he had ﬁnished
did she attempt to speak of her own strange ad-
ventures.

And to this her companion directly led the

wa .

“yBy the b , 'ou became mixed up in a
strange atfairlbsg night,” he observed. . “ I hap-
pened to be in the ofﬁce of the superintendent
of police when the particulars were received.

"I recognized your name at once and_ from
the location of the house I perceived that it was
not a stranger by the same name.

“ I am free to confess, though, that I am sorry
the thing occurred, for in our business we can—
not bc too careful in keeping out of the gaze of
the public.

“You perceive I have different ideas on the
subjectgfrom the average man in our line, Who
delights to conspicuously display himself, and
is never so happy as when surrounded by a gap-
in g crowd and hehears the whisper passed from
one to another ‘ That’s him—that’s the great de~
tective !’

“In reality, such men are of little use. To
catch the first-class rascal, the sleuth-hound
of justice should be as cunning as the fox creep-
ing upon its prey, and cannot be. too careful in
keeping in the background until the time ar-
rives to spring, panther-like, upon the prey.”

“ There isn‘t the least doul it but that you have
the true idea,” she remarked, thoughtfully.

“ To the criminal, dreading detection, the
thought must be terrible that some unseen toe
is hovering near, and. gradually drawtng closer
and closer, but who will never reveal himself
until the ﬁnal spring is made.”

“It has been the theory of all thegreatest
and most successful thief—catchers, since the
world began, that the more mystery With which
a. detective surrounds his operations, the better
he will succeed in not only capturing criminals,
but in preventing crime,” I’henix remarked.

“ It certainly seems reasonable, but my ad-
Venture with the rul’ﬁans who attemptcd to en—
ter my window—there were two of them, for I
saw them distinctly, although only one was cap-

 
tured—is nothing to what happened to me ear-
lier in the evening.”

“ After you parted with me on the bridge?"

“ Yes, the events began not ten minutes later.”

“ That is odd; tell me the particulars.”

“It sounds like a romance, but it is actual
truth, and if I were to attempt to make up a
startling story, I am sure I should never be able
to think of anything one-half as strange or as
improbable.”

. " There is an old saying, you know, that truth
is stranger than ﬁction,” the detective observed.

“In this case it most certainly is.”

And then Kate procwded to relate the strange
adventures which had befallen herafter leaving
the bridge and vs hile proceeding to the house of
her friends in lowcr Brooklyn.

She described everything that had occurred
as minutely as possible, from the time she was
attacked by the ruIll ms in passing the blind al—
ley until she escaped from the old barn, situated
on the outskirts of the City, somewhere near
Canal-sic.

t_ The detective listened with the utmost atten-
ion.

” This is indeed a marvele story,” be ob.
served, when Kate had finished her recital.

“ And does it not seem as if the hand of
Provulence was in it!" she asked.

“ In attempting to make me his prey, has not
this scoundrel rendered himself vulnerable to
an attack!"

“ Most assuredly,” the detective replied, im»
mediately. “Strange how fate sometimes ar
ranges matters in this life. .

“ If I had not chanced to be put upon the
trail of this outlaw band, and happened to meet
you upon the bridge, then, taking an interest in
you, formed your acquaintance, the knowledge
which you have gained would not have been of
much use to you, but, as it is, I believe you
were in the stronghold of the very man of whom
I am in search.”

“ Yes, that is What I thought when I listened
to your story of the Spider Captain,” she re-
marked.

“ There is hardly a doubt of it, unless, indeed,
there exist two bands of desperate ruﬁians,
formed on the same model, and that is not like-
ly. How did the rutﬁans term their leader—did
they give him any title?"

“ I do not remember to have heard him called
anything but the captain and the boss.”

“ It’s a hundred to one that he is our game!”
the sleuth-hound exclaimed, decidedly.

“ The location of the house and the peculiar
way in which they conducted themselves seems
conclusive, and this attack upon you, was not
that made by some of the members of this same
band, think you i"

“ Oh, yes, I am sure of it,” the girl answered,
readily.

“ The rufﬁan that I wounded—”

“ William Crockey, but known better to his
pals and the police as Stingy Bill,” said Phenix.

“ Yes; well, he is one of the men who were in
the cellar, and who drove me in the wagon to
the old barn. It was his revolver that I took.”

“ And then used it upon himself. That was
turning the tables upon the rascal with a ven-
geance.”

“ Yes, it was stran e, wasn’t it?”

“Altogether, as I efore remarked, it is as
strange an affair as I ever had anything to do
with,” Phenix observed, thoughtfully.

“.I do not think there is any doubt that this
Tappan, as he calls himself—that is not his true
name of course—is the Spider Captain, the ras-
cal we seek.

“ The puzzle now is to ﬁnd out what he calls
himself in the world—to discover What part he
is playing.”

“Yes, suppose that will be diilicult, unless
we can trace him through this captured ruf-
ﬁun,” she remarked.

“ That, of course, is the ﬁrst move, but I do
not think that much information can be gained
from him, for as long as the gang sticks to him
will not be apt to betray his pals.

“ And then is is possible that he could not be-
tray his leader, even if he so wished. This
Spider Captain may be shrewd enough to so ar-
range his plan as to keep his identity con-
cealed from all of the rascals of the band,
excepting his lieutenants, through whom he
connnunicates with the rank and tile.”

“Do you think this Stingy Bill is one of the
principal men ?”

“No, 1 do not,” the detective replied, after a
moment’s thought. “ I know him well enough
by reputation, although I never happened to
have any business dealings with him.

“ He is a desperate fellow enough, but a mere
tool with no head to plan any ﬁne work.”

“ The other seemed to be a far superior man.”

“ Four Kings?” Phenix asked.

“Yes, that is the name.”

“ He is a different kind of a fellow altogether,
and rates as one of the few ﬁrst-class rascals in
the country.

“ For some years now the two have traveled
together, and it is very likely that Four Kings
is in the conﬁdence of this master—rascal for he
is of thelright stamp.”

“ The moment I recognized that the man
whom I was obliged to shoot was the same one
whose revolver I had made free with in the cel-
lar, I suspected that my escape had been discov-
ered and this scoundrelly captain had made up
his mind to kill me at all hazards, thinking that
with the knowledge I had acquired I might
prove dangerous.”

“ You are right beyond a doubt, and his
thought was correct too, for with the clews we
have it will be a wonder if we do not hunt him
down.

“ Our game is now to cruise up and down
from Fort Hamilton to Gowanus, and keep our
eyes Open. I feel sure that the rascals have a.
way of reaching their haunt by means of the
water, and sooner or later we’ll run into them.”

“ But the story that this man told of my sis-
ter’s death, do you think it is the truth?’ Kate
asked, anxiously. .

“It sounds robable enough, and yet it may
not be true. 6 will soon learn.”

By this time the two were off the Narrows,
then they “ came about” and headed up by the
Long Island shore.

 
CHAPTER XXV.
ON THE BOAT.

“HEY? w’ot do you say?” asked the ﬁsher-
man, who seemed to be rather hard of hearing.

“I say, don’t you want some passengers on
board of your craft?” Andrews repeated. “ My
friends and I feel as if a little trip on the water
would do us good.” _

“ Waal, I dunno ’bout that,” replied the old
man, who of course was the detective in dis-
guise. “ VVe’re arter ﬁsh, and I dunno as I kin
spare the time.” _ _ , _

“ Oh, I’ll make it worth your While. I 11 give
you ﬁve dollars for the use of your boat for
about four hours, and I doubt if you can make
as much as that by ﬁshing.” . _

“ IVaal. thar’s an old saying that a bird in
the hand is worth two in the bush, so I reckon
l‘il rake in that little ﬁve dollars of yourn,
seeing as howyou seem to have plenty of money
to throw away," the old man observed, With a

rin.

Then, with a dextrous movement, he brought
the boat up alongside of the landing ﬂoat.

“Come along, gentlemen,” said the host; “a
trip down the boy will freshen us up,” and he
led the way to the landing stage, the two dudes
following, supporting bet» eeu them young
Grimgriskin, howling:

“ ‘ A life on the ocean wave,
A home on the rolling deep.

“For Heaven’s sake, stop your neise!” An-
drews exclaimed, who did not relish this un-
seemly behavior.

“ IVait until we get out on the water, and then
you cm sing to your heart’s content.” _ _

“All right. old fel’! IVish I may die if I
howl any more, but I want you to understand
that I am at the top of the heap when it comes

05m ’11) .

t “Si; tlITinks she is some pumpkins when she
dips into her high flown opera trash, but she
Can’t hold a candle to me, for I’m the sweet

71’

ségger of oildom, I am, and don’t you forget
i .

Andrews hurried the young man on board of
the craft as soon as possible, the young men
assisting to the best of their ability, and away
they went.

“ Now, skipper,” said the host, “ run straight
down the bay, and when you have gone far
enough I will tell you.”

“ All right, sir.” .

The biat was what was calle
having only a single sail and no jib.

Acting on a whispered suggestion from An—
drews, the two young men took Alcnbiades to
the bow of the boat, while the host remained
with the old man in the stern, the Italian boy
being curled up in the middle of the craft.

With the coming of the morning the wind
had freshened so that there was now a good
breeze, and as it was blowing straight down the
hay, the boat, which Was like a singed cat, be-
ing far better than it looked, glided through the
water at a good rate of speed.

All of the party, with the exception of An
drews, were affected by the liquor they had
drank, now that they had come Irom the close
r0oin into the open air, and too they began to
feel the loss of sleep.

The easy motion of the boat as it glided as
gracefully as a swan through the water, was
conducive to slumber, and within twenty min-
utes after starting. the two dudes and young
Grimgriskin were fast asleep, stretched out at
full length upon the bare boards.

But the host was seemingly a man of iron, for
he did not show the slightest trace that he had
been up all night, nor of the exciting events
through which he had passed, but looked as fresh
as though he had just arisen from his bed after
a night of health-giving slumber.

Tne detective had scanned his unexpected
passengers closely, although not apparently
taking any particular notice of them.

Of course he had recognized the two dudes
the moment he had set eyes upon them, and
was delighted at this piece of good fortune
which had given him a chance to play the spy
upon them. -

Neither Andrews nor young Grimgriskin
Wcl‘e known to him, and he was glad of an op-
portunity to examine them at his leisure, for
he had not forgotten the information that the
girl had given him in regard to the two dudes.

From what she had overheard, she thought
there was a probability they knew something
of the mystery which began in the heart of the
Catskills.

Pnenix was perfectly certain that neither one
of the young men was likely to prove to be the
party who had decoved the girl.

If the unknown Henry Tappan and the Spi-
der Captain were one and the same, as seemed
more than probable, it was likely that he was
masquerading in good society under some false
appellation and might be an acquaintance 6f
the young men.

In the circle to which the two dudes belonged
an adventurer of the Spider Captain’s stamp
would be able to secure pigeons well worth the
plucking.

So the sleuth-hound felt interested in all the
associates of the dudes.

At the ﬁrst glance this keen-eyed observer
detected that the gentleman who had hailed
him was no common man.

There was an air of superiority about him
which would have impressed a far less shrewd
observer than the veteran thief-taker, yet there
was nothing to suggest anything wrong.

As for Grimgriskin, Phenix dismissed him as
a fool at the ﬁrst glance.

There wasn’t anything about Alcibiades to
suggest that he had the brains or the nerve to
successfully play the wile of a. commander of a
desperate band of outlaws.

The detective was thirsting for information,
and as the character he had assumed was that
of a talkative old man, he began operations the
moment the boat got out into the stream.

“ That friend of yourn has been h’isting a
little benzine, I reckon,” he remarked.

“ Yes; he’s naturally weak-headed and it
doesn’t take much liquor to affect him,” An‘
drews replied.

“ ’Pears to me it’s rayther ’airly in the morn-
in’ fur to go to h’isting,” the seeker after know-
ledge remarked,innocently, and he looked in
the face of the broker with a smile that was
childlike and bland.

“ Yes; it is rather early.”

“P‘raps you bin at it all night?” the other
suggested, with a grin, just as if the idea had
but now presented itself to him.

“ Very likely.”

“ Didn’t fetch any of the benzine aboard with
you, I suppose,” and the ﬁsherman wiped the
back of his hand across his mouth in a very sig-
niﬁcant way.

“ There’s plenty aboard, but stowed away in
such a manner that you can’t very well get at
it,” and Andrews nodded to where young Grim-
griskin had stretched himself out.

“That cuss is no better nor a hog,” the boat-
man observed. “ W’ot’s the use of a man’s
wasting good licker by swilling it down by the
bucketful. Say, do you live up in the big
house thar?” and he pointed to. Blithewood,
standing out prominently from among the trees.

“Yes, that is my place.”

“I reckon you’ve got about as nice at shanty
thar as than is ’round 3” the ﬁsherman remarked,
surveying the estate with a critical eye.

“ It is generally considered to be as ﬁne a
place as there is along the shore.”

“ No ﬁner as far as I kin see, and I’d go my
bottom dollar on it, too. Say, are you one of
the Vanderbilts?”

“ Oh, no; not quite as well off as all that.”

“ VV’ot might your name be i”

“ Andrews; Bernard Andrews.”

“ Are you a trader?"

“Well, yes; in a certain sense I am.
business in Wall street.”

“ I see, I see; you’re one of them Wall street
fellows. Waal, Wall street is as good as a gold-
mine, I reckon, to a man who knows the ins
and outs of it.”

Andrews contented himself with nodding his
head.

“ Heap of money made thar, and a heap lost,
too, I reckon.”

Another nod by Andrews.

“ And your friends—are they in Wall street,
too?” the boatman continued. “Don’t look as
if they had it in ’em to wrestle with the bulls
and b’ars that I’ve hearn tell on in that air
quarter. No offense, you know, but thar ain’t
one on the three w’ot looks as if he knew enough
to go in when it rains.”

“No, they are not in business at all. They
are all gentlemen of independent fortunes.”

“I reckon that air is a pretty lucky thing
for them, for if they had to wrestle for their
hash without anybody to help ’em, they would
be apt to come out of the little end of the horn,
onless appearances are dreadfully onsart’in,”
the ﬁsherman remarked, with the air of a
prophet.

“ Oh, they are smart fellows enough in their
way. If they had .to come right down to hard
work the chances are that in time they would
be able to hold their own. You can’t always
judge by a man‘s appearance in this world, you
know,” Andrews answered.

“ Right you air; no mistake ’bout that. Now
take this hyer boat; she don’t look as if she was
worth over ten dollars, but I’m giving it to you
as straight as a string when I say that a bun-
dred of no man’s money couldn’t buy her!”

" She certainly is doing well now.”

“ Oh, she’s a bully boat, but she‘s an odd ﬁsh,
like myself, I reckon. My name is Turtle-—
Gideon Turtle—but all the boys call me Grid
Turtle for short, and that is the reason why I
call my boat the Sea Turtle.”

“That’s an odd name.”

“You bet! but, as I said, I’m an odd ﬁsh.
Say, that’s a nice house next to yourn, in
among the trees, but it looks awful lonesome——
some of those ducks live there?" and he nodded
to the young men forward.

“ Oh, no, that house is deserted; no one lives
there, and the folks hereabouts say that it is
haunted,” Andrews replied.

(To be conttuned—commenced in No. (32.)

cat-rigged,

Ido

 
Science and Industry.

 
AN English invention, by which gas-jets may
be lighted by an electric battery, contained in a
Email portable tube, has made its appearance

ere.

_ CALISTHENICS maybe very genteel and romp-
ing very ungenteel, but one is the shadow and
the other the substance of healthful exercise.
The JIchI'cal ll'm-l’d of Philadelphia gives this as
one if Dr. F. H. Hamilton’s “Health aphor-
isms.

OF the 20,000 bronze articles which have been
found an10ug the remains of the Swiss lake
dwellers, about 30 per cent are rings, 17 per
cent. bracelets. 4 per cent. kniVes. 3 per cent.
needles, 0.4 per c.nt. hammei s, and 0.2 per cent.
fibula}.

NI‘MEROUS discoveries of mica have been
made in Georgia. In Madison county, espe
cially, great quantities have been developed.
The deposits are a ctntinuation of the North
Carolina mines, and the quality is said to be ex—
cellent.

A COMMISSION on thelaw of insanity has been
nominated by the French Senate. The mem—
bers will examine experts and visit other coun-
tries in order to settle all the details necessary
to the preparation of a newlaw of lunacy for
France.

ALL the old envelopes, newspapers. wrap-
rings, and Scraps of paper which accumulate in
the Treasury Department at Washington are
carefully saved in what is called the waste-
paper room. All this refuse is sorted out by
men and women, and sold to one ﬁrm in New
York. The receipts amount to quite a hand-
some little sum.

THE annual rainfall in this country, accord-
ing to the llﬁ’ﬂt‘hﬂ' Signal, is lowest in New
Mexico (l3 in.) and California (18 in.), and high-
est in Oregon (40) and Alabama (56). The an-
nual rainfall in the British Islands among the
mountains is 41 inches; on the plains ‘25 inches;
45 inches of rain falls on the west side of Eng
land, 27 on the east side.

THE Dutch papers mention the discovery of
a “certain cure” for gout. A peasantwho
was conﬁned to his bed by a sharp attack was
stung by a bee, and almost immediately he
felt better, and next day he was well. A short
time after another patient thought he would
try the same remedy, and, having induced a
bee to sting him on the part affected, he also
was cured.

THE Pennsylvania Railroad has been conduct-
ing some interesting experiments in regard to
color blindness of its employés, and as a result

346 RAPIER RAPHAEL.
317‘ DEADWOOI) Dick‘s DrcA'rs. Bv E. L. Wheeler
318 I‘lIHIZ-I'IEEIS. ‘ '
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(1881) Chromo Cards. no 2 alike. with name,
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color blind. And in these cases the men them-
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Alady’s fancy box, with 26 articles and
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AN application purporting to be signed by
Colonel Maurice Pinchover, has been sent to the
United States Patent Ofﬁce. in Washington for
a patent for an adjustable dog’s tail. The ap-
plication claims that all dogs who, either by na-

5 0 “ Floral Gem ” Cards, 50 new designs with

name in new type 1%., 5 park: 500. and McCauley’:

“ Life of Frederick the Great,” Free to gentler

of club. CAPITOL CARD 00., HARTFORD, CONN.

 
ture or accident, are nnnus a tail, encounter
gre'd. difficulties in turning sharp corners, as
their r enter of gravity is thrown too near the
fore-legs, and they consequently have to go ,
slow or lose their balance. The proposed tail f
can be fastened to the stump, and, as the dog l
turns to the right, the tail will tend to throw g
his rear to the left. thus enabling him to turn l

l

 
easily and rapidly without losing his equi«
librium.

CGNSUMPTIN.

I have a positive remedy for the ab0ve disease; by

its use thousand.» ot‘ cases of the worst kind and of
long standin;r time been cured.
my l'ai'li in its it‘ticacy, that Iwill send TWO BOT—
TLP‘S FREE, [Ouctllcr with a VALUA BLE TREAT-
ISE or this (list-ruse, in any sufferer.
and I). O.
St. N. Y

Indeed, so strong is

Give Express

address. DR. '1‘. A. SLOL‘UM, 181 Pearl

 
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Copyrighted, 1884, by BEADIJ‘.‘ AND ADAMS. Euteml m tln; Pusl Oil‘ln‘r: at New ank, N.1'., :15 Second (‘lzlss Mwil Mutter. Blur. ‘26, 1884.
$2.50 Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams, “ era-e,
V01: In a 1 car. No. 93 \VILLIAM ST” NEW YORK. I n e (entl.  I 1 1|

 
limit in,

BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM,
AL‘I‘HUR or "THE FLYING YANKEE," ETC.

 
Boy Buccaneer;
THE FUGITIVE YACHT.

 
THE BEAUTIFUL PILOT

OF HURL-GATE.

1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince 01 the Road; or.'1‘hc Black Rider of the Black Hills. BY

Edward L. Wheeler.
2 Kansas King; or, The Red Right Hand. By
3 The Flying" Yankee; or, The Ocean Outcast
—I

The Double Daggers; or, Dcudwool Dick’s Deﬁant-c.
a The 'l‘u'o Detectives; or. The Fortunes of a Bowery Girl.
By Buti'ulol‘ill, (Hon. Wm. F. Cody.)

(i The Prairie Pilot ; 0r. Tue Phantom Spy.

7 The Buffalo Demon; 01', The Border Vultures.
By 011 Coomcs.

By “Texas Jack," (J. B. Oiiiohundm.)

10 Buffalo Ben, the Prince of the Pistol; or, Deadwood Dick in Disguise.

8 Antelope A be, the Boy Guide.

9 Ned \Yylds, the Boy Scout.
1. \Viin‘clv-I‘.

11 Ralph Roy, the Boy Buccaneer.

Buffalo Bill, llIOil. “'m. F. Cody.)

. By Colonel Prentiss Ingrnham.

By Edward L. Wheeler.
By Albert W. Aiken.

By Edward L. Wheeler.

By Edward

By Colonel Prentiss Ingrahani.

12 Nick 0’ the Night; or, The Boy Spy of '76. By T. C. Hnrbaugh.
1 3 Yellowstonc .5 ack; or. The Trai pers 0f the Enchanted Ground. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

11 \Vild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duvul. 3::

Edward L. Wheeler.

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, .1

 
DREAMS.

BY J0 KING.

 
If ou dream you’re a toothpick enchanted,
urning somersets over your nose,
It’s a. sign that your lover loves you.
If he don’t, then tell me who does?

If you dream that you are your own couSin,
Baked up in a nice custard pie,

It‘s a a sign you‘ll marr a husband.
If you don‘t, then I’d 'ke to know why?

To dream of three rattle-tail bull frogs,
Talking Dutch over three mugs of beer,
Is a sign that to die on are destined.
if you don’t, it wil be rather queer.

To dream that you never told falsehoods,
And get to believing it’s true,

Is a sign that you'll get some money.
If you don‘t, then I'm sorry for you.

To dream of a steam—driven windmill,
Boiled down and made into a shoe,

Is a sign that your enemy hates you.
If he don’t, then what does he do?

To dream of snoring a snare-drum,
And seeing a shavmg-horse trot,
Is a sign that you‘ll be unluc ',
And ’twould be mighty odd if you‘d not.

To dream that you can‘t tell the difference
Between a sty in your eye and a star,

Is a sign that you’ll go on a journey.
If not, then you’ll stay where you “are.

Yet in these dreams and their meanings,
If you ﬁnd that the truth is quite small,

Set me down as a poor fortune—teller,
And say that I lie—and that‘s all.

 
General Wall’s Invasion of Texas.

BY “BUCKSKIN SAM” (MAJOR SAM s. HALL).

 
IN March, 1842, San Antonio de Bexar,
Texas, was put to many indignities, and plun—
dered by the forces under General Rafael
Vasquez; and, in the autumn follow1ng,Gen—
eral Wall’s army, consisting of some twelve
hundred men, made their way through the
dense chaparrals, down the Rio Medina, and
into the Alamo City.

Their approach was discovered by the fa-
mous Nelson Lee and three other Rangers, who
were acting as spies on the Medina.

The citizens were divided in opinion as to re-
sisting the invasion, man advocating submis-
sion. The few Rangers in the city rode their
mustangs into the mesquites beyond the Alamo,
where they secreted them, ready to mount at a
moment’s notice. Then, returning, they poured,
from the ﬂat roofs of the house-tops, a galling
ﬁre into the massed Mexicans, as the latter
marched into the Plaza. But they were forced,
knowing that they would receive no quarter, to
leap dewn, run to their horses, and gallop to
Salado Creek.

The'report of the invasion, reaching the town
of Gonzales the same day, between eighty and
a hundred men, under the command of Captain
Caldwell, hastened to Salado Creek, by way of
Seguin; being joined, from other quarters, by
different parties, until some three hundred
brave and determined Texans were encamped
in the creek bottom.

Oh the ﬁrst night after the occupation of San
Antonio, some of these made their way through
the Mexican guard, feigning to be herders, cut
loose the horses of the Lanciers, and then re-
turning. mounted their own mustangs, and with
wild yells galloped about the Mexican camp,
stampeding the animalsinto the Chaparral.

The day following, Jack Hays, with his noted
Rangers, approached San Antonio from the Sa-
lado camp. As they came near the Alamo,
several hundred of the enemy’s cavalry ad-
vanced to meet them, but received such a de-
structive ﬁre that they halted; the Texans fall-
ing back to Caldwell.

At eleven, however, the action began in
earnest, and a hot and bitter ﬁght was kept up
until near sunset, when Wall retreated to San
Antonio.

On the way to Alamo City he fell in with
ﬁfty-three Texans from Fayette county, Who
were on their way to join Hays. Thirty-three
of these were killed, ﬁfteen surrendered, and
two escaped unhurt.

Passing through San Antonio, General Wall
retreated rapidly toward the Rio Grande, tak-
ing with him several prisoners from among the
citizens.

These men were taken to the City of. Mexico,
and suffered many indignities, but were event-
ually set at liberty through the intercession of
the American Consul.

Volunteers now concentrated at San Antonio
and vicinity to the number of twelve or ﬁfteen
hundred; all eager to follow Wall and punish
the enemy on their own soil.

There were six or eight encampments around
Bexar; and, instead of organizing and drilling
his men, Somerville, who was in command, re-
mained in the town for weeks, receiving the
hospitalities of those who had previously been
entertaining the Mexican commander. Had
Somerville moved forward with the available
force of seven hundred Texans, when Wall
halted to give him battle at the Presidio, there
is no doubt that the Mexican army would have
been annihilated.

It was December before the Texans reached
Laredo, on the Bravo, which was evacuated by
the Mexican residents; and here, again, Somer-
ville showed that he was not worthy of the
name of soldier, for, bad he crossed the Rio
Grande, he could easily have taken every
town, as far as Reonosa. But he failed to take
advantage of his opportunities; and, at last,
very much to the contempt and anger 9f the
majority of his command, he ordered the ex-
pedition to countermarch to the junction of the
Frio and Nueces rivers, then to Gonzales, and
there disband.

Three hundred, ofﬁcers and men, refused to
obey the order; and Somerville, with the two
hundred that still adhered to him, returned to
Bexar.

The Rangers remaining elected Captain
Fisher to the command, resumed march down
the river, and encamped opposite Myer; the
Alcalde of that town promising to ﬁll a requisi-
tion for clothing and provisions, but the arrival,
of General Ampudia prevented him from keep-
ing his promise.

Thus disappointed, the Rangers, ﬁnding that
they could not obtain necessary supplies through
Somerville’s quartermaster, appropriated what
they were obliged to have to kee them from
starving. This was called the “p under of La-
redo," by the partisans of Somerville, and was
given as a ﬂimsy excuse for their having aban-
doned the expedition.

The town of Myer was eventually entered by
the Rangers under Fisher, about two o’clock in
the morning. in the midst of a drizzling rain,
and in total darkness.

The Mexican guard retreated toward the
Plaza, which was protected by artillery.

Standing in the streets, the Texans would ﬁre
a volley, then spring around the corners, as the

rape-shot tore harmlessly down ast them;
gut the inclemency of the weather ove them
to shelter, when they proceeded to break
through the adobe walls, from one house to
another, until they reached a point within
ﬁfty yards of the enemy’s cannon on the Plaza.

There, at daylight, the unerring riﬁes of the
Texans soon silenced the artillery.

At length, Colonel Fisher being wounded,
amid the confusion occasioned by this event,
the Mexicans sent in a white ﬂag, by a Texan-
prisoner, with a proposition from General Am-
pudia for a surrender.

The latter declared that the Rangers should
not be sent to the City of Mexico, but that
they should be treated as prisoners of war, and
kept on the Rio Grande, until peace should be
declared.

If these terms were not accepted, they were
to receive no quarter. _

Immediately the Texans marched into the
Plaza, and laid down their arms. _

Nelson Lee escaped by hiding in the 'shrub-
bery of a garden until night, then making his

on the American side, he captured two Mexi-
can herders, tied them to their jacks, and forced
them to guide him over the desolate cacti and
chaparral country to Casa Blanco.

Then he released them, havmg passed three
days and nights without a wink of sleep, fear-
ing they might break loose and murder him.

Lee then went up the Nueces river, to Fort
Merrill, and thence to San Antonio, conveying
the ﬁrst news of the disastrous defeat of the
Myer expediti0n.

The fearful suffering of the Texan prisoners,
who, notwithstanding the solemn promises of
General Ampudia recorded above, were march-
ed in chains to Salado, where they were deci-
mated by execution, is a historical fact.

It is one unparalleled in the history of Amer-
ica, for the brutality displayed on one side,
and the great heroism and fortitude on the
other.

 
How Old Grizzlyﬂpped His Bears.

BY CAPTAIN RINGWOOD.

 
THE manifold dangerous as well as amusing
incidents that befell Old Grizzly Adams, while
in pursuit of his favorites. the bears, would ﬁll
a volume, and yet the half would remain un-
told.

Once upon the animal’s trail, he was never
known to “ﬂing up” until he had either cap-
tured, shot, or holed the beast in some inacces-
sihle cavern. Even there he would not desist
until he had exhausted every possible and im-
possible measure to bring bruin out, and he suc-
ceeded oftener than he failed.

On such occasions he would wall up the hole,
inserting his traps so that the bear would be
compelled to pass directly over it when coming
out, as he would some time or other have to do,
in search of food.

Of course the grizzlies gave the old hunter
more trouble, and were far more dangerous,
than all the others put together; but not these
alone, for he often found the large brown bear
a tough customer to deal with.

In his frequent tramps over a certain part of
the mimbres, Old Grizzly had more than once
caught sight of a ﬁne, large bear of this spe—
cies, and, as the specimens he had were not so
good as he desired, he forthwith began devising
a plan for this bruin’s capture.

The bear

His ﬁrst ste was to “ feel ” the animal—that
is, he trailed im down one day, and with his
dog Blinker as aid, pressed him to a corner in a
cavern, and tested the question of the bear’s
savageness and inclination to “ show ﬁght.”
Grizzly found his antagonist willing enough
—-in fact, too willing; for when, after satisfying
himself, he attempted to withdraw, bruin
changed the order of things and took the oﬂ’en—
sive himself.
The situation immediately became interest-
ing. The bear tamer could easily have disposed
of the brute by a riﬂe-shot, but this was to be
avoided at all hazards. The hear was an un-
usually ﬁne one, hardly full grown, and evi-
dently “sound ” in every particular.
In good order the retreat was commenced.
Adams backed from the cavern’s mouth, fol-
lowed by Blinker in ﬁghting order, but once
outside they started on a run, the bear hasten-
ing‘ their stampede with wide-open jaws.

he bear had by this time, from being so long
worried, become furious with rage, and with
wide—open mouth, and glaring eyes, he hung
close on the rear of the retreating forces.
Down the side of the mountain, and into a
valley bruin followed, every now and then mak-
ing a savage charge, from which it required all
the hunter’s activity to escape, and so on until
the very camp was reached. Whether it was
that the bears anger had cooled down, or
whether his instincts told him it would be danger-
ous to invade the hunter’s camp, is not known;
but, certain it is, that, as soon as he caught
sight of the narrow passway, into which Old
Grizzly backed, hoping to lure his pursuer
within, he turned tail and scudded back to the
mountain.
The bear-tamer immediately began prepara—
tions to capture the animal; and I may here
remark that it was the same beast that so many
thousands of eople have seen the hunter
“operating” With in the circus-ring, and other
shows with which he afterward traveled.
Old Grizzly’s ﬁrst object was to secure a proper
bait for the trap he proposed setting for bruin,
as the ordinary ones would not exactly answer
his purpose.
By the third day he had secured a buffalo calf,
and dragging this to the vicinity of the bear's
“ tramp,” he set to work constructing the trap.
This was a log-pen, some six feet long, by four
square, strongly constructed, each log notched
so as to receiVe the one that ﬁtted on top.
This done, he felled a good—sized tree, near
which the trap had been purposely built, cut-
ting it so that it dropped directly across the
top of the pen, lying lengthwise with it. The
top branches, or lap, as it is called, were then
removed, and by a system of levers and props,
the log was elevated at an angle of forty-ﬁve

 
way to and swimming the Rio Grande, w here

 
degrees. This done, the calf was put Within

,the pen, the huge triggers placcd in position un-
der the “ dead-tall,” one of them projecting in-
side the inclosure and restin on the bait. the
props were removed, and al was in readiness
for bruin’s visit.

Two days and nights Old Grizzly watched
closely, but no sign of the brown hear.

The third night he determined to spend near
by the trap, feeling conﬁdent that his game
would scent the bait which had begun to throw
off a somewhat powerful odor.

-The moon rose at ten o’clock, but still no in-
dication of bruin’s presence. Midnight came
and went, and Old Grizzly, despairing of suc-
cess that night, dropped off into a profound slum-
be

r.

He could not have slept long, when something
he knew not what. caused him to awaken, and
glancing toward his trap he discovered the bear
just in the act of mounting the logs to get in-
side.

In a moment the huge body disapeared ;' a
quick. sharp crash was heard, the heavy trig-
gers ﬂew high in the air, and down came the
heavy log, squarely in place. completely block-
ing all chance of egress for the bear.

Old Grizzly was instantly on hand, and, with
half a dozen turns of his lariat, be secured the
log beyond all possibility of moving, and then
felt that his prize was secure. By a process of
starvation he soon conquered bruin, and carried
him in triumph to his stronghold.

 
A Shoe in Evidence.

BY ANTHONY P. MORRIS.

 
THE commodious and half-suburban house of
Madame Torbin was mantled fancifully in the
ﬁrst snow-d rifts of the winter.

Around the heavy window cornices and amid
the thick-now bare and rusty—vines that
wound upward on the pillars of the porches, the
cotton-like drapery, in sprayey snatches, min-
gled a cold breath with the faint-lingering spice
of the frozen tendrils.

Madame Torbin and her daughter, Josephine,
had done well in this section of the city of Balti-
more since the death of the father and husband;
by industry and care they had been able to save
quite a snug sum from the receipts of their ven-
ture—this great residence on North Charles

 
street, for which they had gained a splendid
reputation as a very comfortable and otherwise
satisfactory boarding-house.

At this particular date, when Congress was
about to reassemble, nearly all of her boarders
had gone to the city of Washington, some to
remain permanently for the season.

Only two young gentlemen, room-mates, were
then with her.

One, a. commercial traveler, named John Cas—
par; the other a gentleman but little past his
majority, yet who had ﬁ ured with some prom-
inence at the “ exchange ’ for many months.

Too prominently, the latter; for on this night
of our narrative James Jerome found himself
suddenly and utterly penniless through a too
free speculation in wheat.

Two scenes were in progress within the house
at about the hour of ten P. M.

Caspar had retired. But there appeared to be
no sleep in store for him. Outside, under the
brilliant glare of the full moon, there was being
held a discordant carnival.

“ Me-o-ow! Me—o-owl”

“ Pfstl—spfstl—spat-trt!"

Then scratchings, doleful feline screeches:
and the fur was evidently ﬂying there at a
lively rate.

“ Confound the cats!” he exclaimed, angrily.
“ Here I’m to be off for Wheeling early in the
morning, and not a wink of sleep yet!"

He leaped from his bed and grasped up the
ﬁrst article he could ﬁnd to serve as a missile.
Then, throwing up the sash, he sent the hand-
shot hurtling among the noisy combatants be-

ow.

At the same time a dog barked furiously and
as if in the midst of the tom-cat crew. r

Then silence.

At last he foiind his much-needed slumber in
peace.

Below stairs, in the still dimly-lighted parlor
sat James Jerome on one of the rich (ﬁes, an
at his side the fair and artlessly captivating
Josephine.

He held one of her willing hands in his own,
and the attitude of the pair was decidedly
lover—like.

“ Yes, Josie, it is, alas, too true,” he was
saying. “ I am at this instant not worth a dol-
lar, so to speak. But if your faith in me can
only hold ﬁrm—”

“ Firm, dear James! Wh , I could never
love any one but you. Yes, can, I will, wait
cheerfully; for I know you will some day re-
trieve your losses.”

“;And when that is accomplished, and I come
to ask you to be my own dear little wife?”

“ You will ﬁnd me ready,” returned the de-
voted irl.

“In eed! You don’t say sol” broke in an
unexpected voice.

Madame Torbin loomed in the doorway, al-
most glaring upon the surprised couple.

She advanced with a stately step.

“I think I shall have a little something to
say in this interesting matter, Mr. Jerome. I
have listened to our story of your losses, and
it is about time interfered before J Osie makes
too many fresh and absurdly rash vows. I
have better prospects for my daughter, I hope,
sir, than that of marrying a penniless broker.
Do you think you understand? And. now, will
you oblige me by taking verbal notice to qu1t
my house as quickly as you conveniently
can?”

“ Oh, mother!—” Josephine began to_ exclaim.

But madame checked her by an imperious
wave of the hand. . _

Jerome, pale before as he recounted his mis-
fortune to his betrothed, grew paler at ma-
dame‘stone of address; but his voice was very
quiet and respectful, as he replied:

“ I understand you perfectly, madame. Your
desire shall be obeyed. But,”—rising and ﬂash—
ing a quick, meaning glance at J osie—“I may
have money again, and much sooner than you
may ssibly dream of. Good-by, J mm!” and,
as if in deﬁance, he bent and kissed the lovely
girl, then left the room.

At about the hour of midnight a ﬁgure was
almost noiseleSSly desCendmg the staircase of
the mansion, a figure carrying a small valise.

It was James Jerome. _

A young man of tender rearing. and keen
sensibilities, he would not even wait for day-
light to obey the stern summons of dismissal
uttered by angry Madame Torbin.

; As he descended, one of the bedroom doors
moved slightly ajar, and the face of Josephine
peered unseen forth at him.

A pang entered the girl’s heart as she com-
prehended what this silent departure of her
lover must mean.

“ But he will come backl—yes, he will come
back!” she murmured, conﬁdently, withdraw-
ing to her couch when she heard the front door
softly open and shut. “And when he comes,
he will ﬁnd me as I promised: ‘ ready l’ ”

Clear and very cold was the night through
which James Jerome wended his way. His
course was from the city.

Perhaps he had friends of whom he could
have borrowed; indeed, he had fully sufﬁcient
money to comfortably lodge him at one of the
lesser hotels of Baltimore for a week.

 
r

But his was a nature of pluck. He would not

borrow; neither would he waste his small resi-
due by living in a city where he might never re-
gain his lost fortune, and where every day he
would meet with old acquaintances likely to cut
him in the hour of his reverses. No, he would
sooner go out, almost aimlessly, into the world
to carve a new fortune if it was to be earned
by any honorable means.

“I am a tramp!” he uttered, with a bitter
laugh, as he plodded steadily onward toward
the open country.

f The night wind moaned freezineg into his
ace.

_ At the distance of nearly a mile from the man‘
Sion, he came upon a chip ﬁre built behind a
pile of old ties that fended off the wind.

Beside the ﬁre, squatting cross-legged and
complacently smoking an oily pipe, was a veri—
table dirty tramp, who warmed his hands at
the blaze.

Jerome hesitated—then he advanced.

“ Hu'lo, young feller! Whar’d you drop
frum?"

“ No matter. I’m a tramp—like yourself, I
suppose,” With a grim humor. “ I want you to
share your ﬁre with me, if you will.”

The genuine tramp surveyed the new-comer
With some suspicion. Then, throwing on some
fresh chips, he made room, saying:

“ \Val, make yourself to home, if you kin.
But I ain’t no tramp, I ain’t. I’m one o’ the
fellers w’ot they calls gentlemen over in En -
land; a chap w’ot never worked, nor his father
before him, either. Where ’re you bound?”

“ Anywhere.”

“Thet’s a durned long lane.
ferin the oily pipe.

“ o—thanks.”

Silence fell between them.

At the expiration of perhaps an hour, it was
demonstrated that this tramp had been waitiner
for some one. O

Abruptly upon them came another shivering
a1Ld ragged specimen of humanity who carried
a ag.

“I’ve got it this time, Billy—” he began to
say.

Tramp No I checked him by a chirological
and mystic sign.

Jerome was yielding to a pleasant drowsiness
that came over him as he sat on his valise by
the welcome ﬁre.

He dozed. But it seemed to him that he
heard a low-toned question from the party last
arrivmg:

“ Who’s this chap?”

And the answor:

“ Ten to one, a detective!”

XWe mustfggt rid of him, then!”

sense 0 anger came to the
He opened his eyes with an effort. young man.
Then the tedious hours of nights morning

Smoke?” prof-

passed, while the two tramps were eying him '

as vigiiantly.

Had they meant mischief, the opportunity
was not offered.

At daylight the three pooled their funds in
goodly tramp style, and they found that they
had sufﬁcient to carry them to Wilmington.

With the tramp who carried the mysterious
bag leading the way, they started his; a cut
across ﬁelds to make the early nort -bound
train that stopped at Bayview Junction.

 
There was a sensation at the ofﬁce of the po-
lice marshal in the early morning; ofﬁcers were
being sent to the mansion out on Charles street,
where was the oint of interest.

Madame Tor in had been robbed; and the
robber coming upon her in her darkened bed-
room, had nigh strangled her to death before
she could see sufﬁciently of him to recognize
him if can ht.

But the astard’s grip had not succeeded; she
had recovered and could give a description of
her loss.

Nearly 85,000 in money and jewelry was
gone.

The detectives were at work. A rigorous in-
vestigation of the premises was being made.

In the rear the snow had been almost wholly
cleared off; but there remained a patch near
the veranda-like porch, and in this patch there
was a double impress: a man’s ﬁnely-gaitered
foot and the fore- paw of a dog!

The theory was. that no common thief had
accomplished the deed; and whoever it was, he
was accompanied by a dog up to his ascent of
the trellis which would give him access to Ma-
dame Torbin’s room.

The gaiter- print was carefully measured.
Every one in the house was closely questioned.

Josephine sat before the ofﬁcers so very ale
and nervous, and her answers Were so mar ed-
ly studied, that they concluded she must know
more about the affair than she would willingly
reveal.

It required the keenest tact of the law sleuths
—but at last the important fact was elicited,
that James Jerome had said to madame, he
would have money again sooner than even she
dreamed of, and Josephine had seen her lover
stealthin leaving the mansion at about the
hour of midnight.

This was enough for a starting clew.

James Jerome must be found.

The indefatigable sleuths knew how to go
about their business.

Furnished with a reliable description of the
young man, they had nearly every avenue of
escape from the city—railroads, county ikes
and steamboat lines—guarded expeditious};t by
the aid of telegraph with the different stations;
the police of the eastern and middle districts
were on the lookout among the dens of Spring
street and the “ Meadow,” respectively.

The train that came pufﬁng through the tun-
he] and halted at Bayview Junction was board-
ed by three men in strange contrast of garb:
two in rags and tatters and the third in genteel
apparel.

The last was James Jerome.

Scarcely had he entered the smoker with his
quondam acquaintances, when the doors at both
ends were closed by the ofﬁcers in citizens’ dress,

The quarry had come into their arms.

A third ofﬁcer advanced to Jerome and laid a
heavy hand on his shoulder.

“ My friend, you are wanted!”

Then, to his assistants:

“ Seize those other two fellows!”

The two tramps were at once taken in hand.
The passengers who had been quietly pufﬁng
their cigars in the coach, were now aroused by
the scene of an unexpected sensation.

Jerome sunk, pale and surprised, into a seat:
and while he gazed in the silence of astound-
ment, the detective forcibly raised one of his
gaitercd feet and began a series of measure-
ments with a two foot rule which he produced.

“ That’s it, exactly 1” he muttered, more to
himself.

“ What is it? Tell me what this means?” de-
manded Jerome, who had caught sight of the
ofﬁcer’s badge on the lapel.

He was electriﬁed by the reply:

“ Nothin , only you have made a green botch
of your litt e burglary at the Torbin mansion—”

Further speech was interrupted by an excla-
mation from one of the other detectives

“ By gracious! here’s the whole boodle!”

Sure enough. In the bag carried by the tramp
was found the proceeds of the bold robbery.

“Four years! Oh, my eyesi” dolefully groan-
ed the tramp whose name was Billy.

“Shet up, you old give-’way!” surlily repri-
manded the other tramp, who seemed to be the
presiding genius.

Jerome was saying:

“ You will ﬁnd, Mr. Ofﬁcer, that there is some
sad mistake here. I can readily prove to you
that I am not the man to do a mean deed. I
am well-known on change.”

“ Will you go with us quietly?”

. “Of course?! with the hearty promptitude of
innocence, which was not without its effect
upon the ofﬁcer.

The detectives, with their prisoners, returned
to the city.

Jerome succeeded in so far assuring them,
that he was spared the humiliation of ﬁguring
as a companion of the tramps.

Nevertheless, he was held in custody; and but
for a Circumstance which happened—a double
Circumstance—on the following morning, he
would have found it difficult to free himself
from at least complicity in the robbery.

A letter arrived at the Torbin mansion ad-
dressed to him.

It was promptly opened by the ofﬁcers.

It had been posted by John Caspar, at Cum-
berland, on his way to Wheelin .

It explained that during the night before his
departure, in his anger at the cats which made
such a racket under his window, he had seized
upon theﬁrst article which presented to serve
as a missde to hurl at them. He apprehended
that it was one of Jerome’s gaiters. If such
proved to be the case, would Jerome please pur-
chasea new pair at his expense, which would
be paid for on his return from Wheeling.

At the same time, a small boy put in an ap-
gearance, carrying a gaiter. His dog had come

time two nights previous, with the article in
his mouth, and the boy had since been trying
to ﬁnd out who it belonged to.

The gaiter ﬁtted exactly in the imprint in the
snow, which was fortunately still preserved by
the freezing weather.

The double circumstanco turned the tide com—
pletely in Jerome‘s favor, cou iled to his sworn
statement as to how he came 0 be in company
with the tramps.

He was released.

And almost the ﬁrst person he met was a bro-
ther broker, to whom he had intrusted the
payment of the amount that he knew was his
ruin.

From him came an astonishing piece of news.

Instead of having to meet a loss, there had
been a quotation of a sudden rise at the very
last minute, and James Jerome was then rich-
er by $40,000. '

The two tramps proved to be old offenders;
and ‘ Billy” weakened so far under a promise
that he would be “let down easy,” that he be-
trayed the whole facts of his comrade’s guilt in
the matter of the Torbin robbery.

Madame Torbin relented when the rich oung
broker presented himself before her an in a
gins: way be overlooked her insulting treat-

en .

She gracefully yielded to his proposal for
Josepliine’s hand, and the month of February
was ﬁxed upon for the sounding of the wedding-
bells of the oving couple.

“

 
ENTHUSIASTIC Young Lady.——“ What a sweet-
ly pretty boy of yours, Mrs. Flanigan. \Vhat
beautiful black e es he has! I’m sure he will
be both excitab e and inipulsive—black—eyed
people always are, you know.” Mrs. Flanigan.
-—“Sure, miss, an’ perhaps you’re right. His
father’s excitable and impulsive enough, bedadl
So, IOikely, it’s why he's niver widout a black

 
eye, Sorry a. bit!”

 
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