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Entered at the Post Oflice at New York. N. Y.. at Second Class Mail Ram Copyflght. 1883, by Emu. um Anna.

 

mu 1M‘Iilfini‘limmMinimumf

le PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, I Price.
VOL  Nigger. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK.

THE BOVINE SPORTLMHE PRIDE 0F cnucKALucK cw.

BY EDWARD WILLETT,

AUTHOR 0F “0me ALF,” “ memwmem‘,” “ASA SCOTT, um swmmnou BOY,” mu, no.

KIGGAH. ’TWAB. m: pm BOY mm SHUAH, sunnm’ DAB!" I

 

    

2

The Roving Sport.

 

e Roving Sport;

n

The Pride of Chuokaluck I Camp.

BY EDWARD WILLETT,

AUTHOR or “ FEARLESS PHIL,” “ THE TYPO DE-
TECTIVE," “ FEATIIERWEIUHT,”
“ ozanx ALF,” are.
CHAPTER 1.
SHOT ON THE sror.

“DON’T go in.there. Charley.”

“ I will, though. Why not! There is a'faro
game going on there, and. if I choose to risk a
few dollars, 1 don’t know why I should not. I
am. not likely to lose more than I can af-
ford to.”

“You 'don’t know that, Charley. When a
man begins, there is no saying where he will
stop. The only safe way is to let all that sort
of thing alone.’

“ You are too squeamish, Tom. Everybody
out here bets. and we must keep up with the
racket. I am going to put a few dollars on that
man’s game, and if he wins them he is welcome

to tliem.”

“ “will gain with you then.”

Charley anson and Tom .Ross were stran-
gers in Chucknlnck, having “ struck the camp 7’
onl that morning. In fact, they had haul but
litt 6 experience in the mining region, and do-
served to be styled “ tenderi‘eet.”

The former but] only lately reached the age *

at which he became his own master, and his
friend Ross was but a few years older. The
latter, however, was considerably in advance
of his young friend in respect of steadiness and
prudence. ~

It must be admittod,,too, that Charley had
been sam ling the Chuckaluck liquors. though
not large y, and was inclined to be self-
willed. - '

He went into John Burke’s bar-room, followed
by Ross, and was soon seatedat the table put-
ting money in- small amounts on one card and
another in a haphazard sort of a way.

There were three men on the same side of the
table with him, and on the other side was seated
John Burke, the dealer—a dark-featured man
with an impassive countenance, who mechanic-
ally drew the cards from the box. and_as me-
chanically raked in or shoved over the chips and
money that he lost or won. .

It was just as Tom Ross' had said—when a
man began, there was no saying where he would

sto . .

(gharley Manson got excited in the game. At
flrsth won all htly, and then he lost slightly,
andbo h his" nings and his losings gave him
an excuse to . his stakes. .

At last all the money he had With him was
invested on the kid}. '

The king lost an the dealer raked in the pile.

“ Hold" on. there!" shouted the young man.
“That’s not fair play.” v

John Burke’s ace was no .longer inpassive,
but wore an evil and menacing smile.

“ b0 you mean to say,” he demanded, “ that I
am not playing this ame fair! Do you know
who it is you are epea ing to?”

“ I know nothing about you, but I know what
I agn- saying, and I knowunfair pla when I
see it. ' I saw on draw two cards her from
the box, an as you did it on w ed at the
case-keeper. Do you call the honest?“

“You. mean, then, young chap, to  me
of cheating?”

“ 1! course I do. It is a swindling game and
I demand my money." V

Tom . Ross, attracted by the altercation,
stepped toward his friend linguist him, but he
was too late. _ ' '. ,

“You shall never make that charge a 'n,”
said John Burke, as he drew a revolver anglilllmd
it across the table.

The bullet struck Charley in the left breast,
and he fell back in his chair. .

A‘ few gasps and he had breathed his last.

“ Do on want totake this up?” asked Burke,
anger by ‘the horrified {expression of Tom
Boss’s countenance.

“ No,” replied Tom. “ Harm enough has been
done. You have killed this poor boy,and it will
be the death of his sister.” I

Burke erer sneered at the allusion to the

oung fe w’s sister. How“ not to be touched

y sin ,sentimsntal trash. v ‘ .

Suc an occurrence as the killing of Charley
Manson was not so frequent in Chuckaluck that
it could pass without notice.

 

The. camp was a new and small one, and its
organization was as yet of the simplest and
rudest kind. Indeed, there was no organization
except such as the citizens, when occasion re-
quired, adopted for the time being.

There was no inquest upon the body of the
stranger. That would have been considered
unnecessary, and it was opposed to the notions
of the Chuckuluck people. _

The man was dead and nothing could change
that fact. He had been killed bya pistol bul-
let, and there was no denying that the shot was
fired by John Burke. The only uestion was as
to the degree of Burke's guilt, ' he had really
committed a crime. '

So he had a trial, which was probably as fair
a trial as the can) p could aflord. '

Twelve citizens were selected asa 'ury, and
Higgins, the landlord of the Globe otel, was
appointed the judge. Tom Ross acted as prose-

cutor, and Burke was defended by one of his‘

friends.

The circumstances attending the killing were

roved just as they had Occurred. There was no
ying or false swearing, no attempt to show that
the deed was done in self-defense. Everything
was open and above-board.

Judge Higgins, who was the ornamental
member of the court, had nothing to say beyond
the wordsthut were necessary to give the case
to the jury, and when the retired Tom Ross
confidently expected a ver ict of guilty.

But he and his (lead friend were strangers
in Chuokaluck. John Burke was a pol ulur
citizen, and was rogurdvd a; a useful one. It
would never do to have his business broken up by
any Stray tenderfoot who might happen to lose
a little money on his game. It was the general
opinion that a deadly insult excused, if it did
not justify, the use of a deadly weapon with
fatal effect. A charge of cheating was to such

‘ a man as John Burke a. deadly insult.

“Not guilty,” was the verdict of. the jury.

“Not guilty of what?” demanded Ross, who
was as much'shocked by this verdict as he had
been by the shooting.

“Not guilty of murder,” replied the foreman.

“ Of what is be guilty, then? Can a man kill
another here in cold blood, and be guilty of
nothing?” '

“ We don’t see fit to argy that p’int with you,
young man. We find him not guilty.”

Tom Ross buried his friend, and in sadness
and disgust turned his back upon Chuckaluck.

CHAPTER II.
' - rum WOMAN IN THE CASE. ,

Tim death of Charley Ma‘nson caused only a
brief excitement in Chuckaluck, and he 'had
been forgotten b all but a few in the lapse of
some three mont s, when there occurred such a
sensation as startled the camp from its center
to its extremities.

This was not a tragedy, but what may be
called a. spectacular piece, bein nothing less
than the arrivalat th Globe otel of a very
pretty young woman b the evening stage.

Women were scarce in Chuckaluck, and the
few specimens of the sex who had struggled

 

thither were much sought after, unattractive as ,

they were. No pret girl had yet set her
dainty foot within the imits of the camp. As
the new-comer was an unusually pretty girl,
it is no wonder that she created a decided sensa-
ion. , .

Her arrival was known even before the stage
reached the hotel, and the news spread w1th
amazing rapidity. I

In less than half an hour most of the inhabi-
tants of Chuckaluck were collected in and about
the Globe Hotel, and the barkee r. was obliged
to call for assistance. and the findlord found
his time was more than occupied in responding
to the inquiries that were showered upon him on
all sides. _

Her fellow-passengers by the stage, who had
actually traveled with her, had seen her face,
and had heard her speak, were the lions of the
evening. The bad unlimited opportunities to
poison themse ves at the expense of others, and
nothing was considered too ood to set before
them. In' return for this fest ve liberalit the
were expected to gratify the curiosity 0 their
entertainers, and they told all the knew about
the fair passenger, and perha s a ittle more.

The girl had registered as ‘ Miss Belle Bush,
Ch nckaluck,” and this was a cheering indication
of an intention to remain. ‘

She had then been shown at once to her room,
which she had not left, and the roughest rounder
in the camp would not have thought of intrud-
in upon her privacy. ‘

ut the citizens of Chuckaluck were impatient.
They had their rights, which ought to be re-

sell, only for two minutes.

 

spected. They wanted to know more about the
fair stran er, and above all to see her.

The pub ic demand became so strong, and the
pressure upon Landlord Higgins was so heavy,
that-he presented himself at Miss Bush’s door,
and was admitted.

If she had exoited the fervent admiration of
her fellow-passengers in her traveling attire,
her a pearance as Higgins then beheld her
must ave derell them frantic. '

Her dress was very pretty and coqnettish,
just long enough to show a remurkahlv neat
foot and ankle, and was tastefully touched off
by bits of lace and other ornaments. Ber dark
brown hair, arranged just as it‘should be, was
crowned by the “ cutest " little cap imaginable.
As for her bright brown 9 es, her peachy
cheeks, her ripe ruby lips, an her other charms
that were manifest, they Were enough to break
the hardest heart in Chuckaluck. _

“ Be pardon, miss.” said the landlord, how-
ing aw wardly and blushing until his face was
fiery red. “1 am Mr. Higgins, who runs this
hotel. Met you when you came, but ineblc
you’ve forgot me.” .

“Oh, no,” she replied, With a bright smile;
“ I don‘t forget so quickly as that.”

“ Of course you don’t, nnss. I wouldn’t have
bothered you, but the people are so. excited.”

“The eople excitedri’ she exclaimed, with a
half-trig tened look and tone. “ ll hat is the
matter?”

“ Nothin’ wrong; miss. Nothin’ at all. It is
you they are excited about—that’s ull.”

“ Excited about me 2 Why, Mr. Higgins,
what have I done?”

“ No harm in the world. Not a bit of harm.
It is a blessin’ to us all to know that you are
here. Such an ornament to Chuckuluck is what
we have been wishin’ and prayin’ for, ever so
long, and now you‘ve come, and we only hope
you mean to stayI.” _

“ I have come are to locate,” she replied.

“ That’ll be the biggest kind of news for the
boys. -But the fact is, Miss Bush they want to
see you. Jest hear ’em, now. They think I’ve
been up here too long, and are gittin’ jealous.”

In fact, the .voices of those below could be
plain] heard, calling loudly for Higgins.

“ ill they want to come up here?” she

ed a

“No, miss. Not- a bit of it.’ But they are
half crazy to git a look at you, and some of ’em
seem to think you are an angel, just dropped
out of the sky.” .

“ I am no sort of an angel, Mr. Higgins, but,
if they only want to see me, I am willing to
please them. What shall I do?”

“ Jest step down to the door and show your-
That will satisfy
tfie crowd, miss, and I will be ever so much
0 li ed.”

‘ d on, then, sir.”

Higgins led the way down-stairs, highly
pleased with his success.

“ Clear the track!” he shouted. “ She’s com~
in’! Git outside, all of you, whar you can take
a uar’ look!”

e house Was quickly cleared, and all the
eager crowd collected in front of the hotel door,
when the youn lady shortly appeared, pre-
ceded by theJan 0rd. -

She bowed. as a storm of applause ted her,
and Big - lifting up his voice 9 a pelican
in the derness, proceeded to make a speech.

“Feller-citizens of Chuckaluck: I have the
honor to introduce _to you Miss Belle Bush, as
handsome and high-ate in’ a critter as you
might find in any of the tates. [Applause]. I
also have the honor to inform you that she
means to remain with us. She so that she
has come here to locate. [Applause] es, feller.
citizens, she has adopted as her future home the
lively and enterprising cam of Chuckaluck,
and we all know that we will proud of her.”

The young lady bowed in response to the
cheers that followed this address, and disap-
peared before the applause ended. _

Then the excitement of the crowd subs1ded
somewhat: but it was not until she had been
for some time sound asleep that all of her ad—
mirers had dispersed. _ .

As soon as possible after her arrival MISS
Belle Bush proceeded to prove the truth of her
declaration that she intended to locate in
Chuckaluck.. Early the next morning she set
out in search of applet of ground.

Her progress on this errand of course created
a. commotion 1n the camp. Wherever she
went she was followed b - curious crowds; but
they kept at a respect ul distance, and were
careful so to regulate their movements that
they should not appear: to be following her.
Others stared at her from windows and d0ors,

 

‘

S

 

 

 

l
l
l
l

The Roving sport.

,3

 

 

 

but "lid so stealthin and unobtrusively as if un-
willing to be caught at it.

All this did not seem to disconcert her in the
least, and she went about her business in a busi-
ness way, noticing only those with whom she
hall business. .

She was successful in her search. She bought,
and paid cale for it, a small piece of ground
adjoining John Burke’s placa, and immediately
made a contract for, the improvements she
wanted.

Burke’s establishment had become a two~
story building of quite an imposing appearance,
with the salomi and arrangements for public
gambling on the first floor, the second being oc-
cupied by a room for “quiet games” and by
slee iing3apartmenfs. ,

ll iss ush’s house was also to be a two—story
affair. though smaller, and those who knew its
plan declared that it would be an ornament to
Uhuckaluck. ‘ ,

So it proved to be. It was soon finished, as
quick work was the style of Chuck luck, and
she had a way of hurrying things. I s ginger:
bread work exoited the admiration of all, and
three colors of paint set oil! its exterior flnel .

It was christened before it was quite flnis ed.
By the common consent of the citizens of
Chuckaluck it was called “The Chrome.”

Another ornament was added—a sign.

A very nice sign it was, and it here this in—

scription: .
“BELLE BUSH,
m:st IN CIGARS AND TOBACCO.”

 

CHAPTER III.
THE (meter or oncoxmnox.

IT was not to be supposed that while this was
going orl Miss Bush. had been allowed to pursue
her way in peace.

A chan e had come over Chuckaluck since
her arriv . The camp had spruced up. There
were more clean faces and hands seen on the
streets, more clean shirts, and, it may be added,
more sober men. The camp dressed more neat-
ly, and absorbed its poison more secretly and
in smaller doses. The admiration she excited
showed itself in the natural way, and “ the
pleasant note of the pistol and the cheerful
shriek of the victim ” were heard less frequent-
ly. Chuckaluok rapidly advanced several de-
grees in civilization.

But it was to be feared that the fair cause of
this im rovement would yet turn out tobe an
angel 0 destruction, as her presence had already
introduced into the camp an element of discord
that was developing rapidly. .

Her lovers—that was what was the matter.

All the camp was in love with her, ass. matter
of course; but there were some who carried
their retensions toa point that threatened to
make rouble. _ ,

‘Pat Higgins, of the “Globe,” thought that as
his chance was the list it ought to be the best;
, but she'snubbed Big 8. _ .

' Martin Aylward. t e manager and part owner

of the Chuckaluck Mine, wh ch promised a. for-

tune to ever one interested in it, astonished all
by the we a began to “slin on style,” and
paid mar ed attention to Bel 6 Bush; but she

did not seem to care for Aylward.

Lars Andersen, the Swedish storekeeper, who
had “struck the camp ” Just in time to make a
file of money, was more than ready to endow

iss Bush with all his worldly goods; ,but he
gould not see that he made any impression upon

er.

Tip Simmons the express agent, a brisk and
natty young fellow wit whom she bad business
to transact, took advantage of his Opportunities
to aim at her affections; but she treated Tip
quite coolly. ,

Several others, who need not be enumerated
——responsible citizons and men with “no visible
means "—were badly smitten with the evail-

I in'g epidemic; but not one of them coul boast
that he had made any progress toward the kind

of cure he wanted. .

Some of these victims Were beginning to treat
each other coldlv and contemptuously, and that
was a bad sign for the peace of the camp.

.Last, but by no means least, J Obfl. Burke had
hls 9Y9 upon her—both of them, In fact, and
very sharp eyes they were.

39 “’83 Probably more set in his purpose than
any of them, though he seemed to show the fair
object of all the attraction no special attention,
treating her only with politeness and making

no attempt to force his presence upon her. He

was so backWard in coming forward that the
iceberg werejustified' in considering him out of
the game. ' ' ‘ l

r

“A

 

 

But he did not consider himself out of the»

game. Not a. bit of it.

His policy was made known to his general
agent and confidant, Sa‘m Byles, at a confab
they had in an upper room of the “Gay and
Ha py,” as his establishment was styled.

he craze of the camp about Miss Bush was
naturally mentioned. '

“ I wonder that you don’t take a hand in that
game, major,” remarked Byles.

John Burke had ained the title of “Major”
sinco his arrival in ‘huckaluck, and it was Sam
who had first given it to him.

“ I am already in,” replied Burke.

“It don’t luck like it.”

“lam in, though, with a good pile to back
me, and I mean to play my hand for all it is
worth.”

“It seems to me, major, that the pot is made
up and you havo passed out.” '

“ That is because you don’t understand the
game. When those other fellows go broke, I
expect to chip in and take the pile.” ‘

“ I have known men to play a waiting game
before now.
win. One of the other fellers may win on a
small pair, while you are staying out withafull
hand. ‘

“ I think I know what I hm doing, Sam. If
that girl pans out according to the color she
shows, I mean to make her my wife.”

“ But it takes two to make that sort of a bar-
gain.” '

“ Sometimes it does, and sometimes it don’t.
When I have made up my mind that I want her
I shall set my pegs to get her.”

He made no demonstration that way, hOw-
ever. previous to the day leed for the opening
of “ The Chronic.”

Various boxes and packages had assed from
the express oflce to that ornamen 1 building,
and Miss Bush had left the “ Globe” and estab-
lished herself in her own home.

She had engaged a neat-handed Chinaman as
her general household and business abalstant—
one of the numerous Sing fumil , We Sing by
name—and with his help she ha everything in
order for the Opening.

John Burke sent in from his place an offer to
furnish his neighbor at his own expense with
wine and other materials for a. “grand blow-
out;” but his proposistion was respectfully de-

’ clined, Miss Bush saying that no people should

poison themselves in her house with anything
worse than tobacco.

The stock and fixtures of “The Chrome” made
a. fine show at the opening, the most attractive
feature, of course, being the fair pro rietress,
and business was generally suspended n honor
of the event. .

Socially it was agreat success, and as a busi-
ness Venture Belle Bush had eVery reason to be
Satisfied with it. Whatever price she chase to
put upon her wares was paid more than cheer-
ful] . Men bought ci rs who had never
smo ed,‘and the eman for pipeq'and other
smokers’ articles threatened to swamp her

stock.

All day the little store Was crowded, and it
was not until after dark that there was any ces-
sation of the rush of business, and then it was on
account of the absence of Miss Bush.

We Sing stated, in response to inquiries, that
she had “ gone expless ofiice.”

As she was expected to return shortly, acrowd
gathered and waited.

She had not returned when the monotony was
broken by the sudden amval of Caesar Augus-
tus, a colored man, who was employed at the
“Globe.” He came running up the street at the
top of his speed, and was ev1dently in a state of
extreme terror. 1

One of the men in front of “The Chrome”
seized him and brought him to a halt. '

He was at once surrounded by eager ques-
tioners, who wanted to know what was the
matter. '

As he seemed to be unable to find a voice for
replying, the usual Chuckaluck remedy for all
complaints, a glass of whisky, was poured down
his throat.

“ ’Fo’ God, sah,” exclaimed the frightened
dark , “'I done see’d a ghost!”

Thl; declaration was greeted with a roar of
laughter, and inquiries were freely made as to
what he had been drinking.

“ I was ices as sober, gen’lemen, as I .ebber
was, an’ w ot Isee’d I see’d fur shuah. I was
walkin’ out yonner toward the hills, sorter
strollin’ roun’—” .

“ Chickens, Caesar!" sng ted a bystander.

“No, sah, it wasn’t’ chic ens, ’case dar ain’t
no chickens out dar. I was jess strollin’ aroun’
by de light ob de moon nigh de place whar dat

They didn’t lose, but they didn’t ‘

 

young man was hurried w’Ot waskilled in do ole
Gay an’ l-iuppy’ ’bout free munf ago. Mistah
Burke reckomember dat young man.” '

“ Shut 11 ii" angrily exclaimed Burke.

“ Yes, sa . But was de young man, I recko-
membcrs him well. ’ense he gimme a dollah. I
was walkin’ nigh his grave. an’ I happened to
look ober dar, an’ dar I see’d dat young man
standin’ by his grave.”

“ Now, Cmsar, that’s too much,” said one of
the crowd. ‘

“Yes, Still, it was too much fur dis niggah.
"l‘wm'do dead boy fur shuah, standin’ darl I
knowed him well, an’ he was dressed jess as he
was arter he was shot, an’ dar was a big patch
0’ blood on his breast, an’ oh, myl”

“ What did you do. Cmsur?”

“l gi’n a screech, an’ turned an’ ran inter do
camp as fast as' ebber I could run, an’ so would
anv odder man.” ‘ '

hortl after Csesar Augustus had finished his
story Be 19 Bush reappeared in her store, hav-
ing come in by the rear entrance: but she was
then too busy to discuss the alleged apparition.

“What do you think of that ghost story,
major?” asked Sam Byles, when he and John
Burke had returned to the “ Ga y and Happy.”

“ I don’t bother my head about it a bit,” re-
plied Burke. “ I wouldn’t back the darky’s
word for a cent, and I don’t believe in ghosm,
either.”

But there was one subject connected with the
events of the awning in which he was interested.
His jealousy had been aroused by the absence
of Belle Bush from her place of business.

He went to the express office, and spoke to
Tip Simmons. whom he found alone there.

"Tip, was Miss Bush in here to-night before
ten o’clock? I don’t want any lying about it,
now but the square truth.” ‘

“What do you mean by
torted Tip, bristling up.

"Come, sonny, don’t at our ebenezer up.
Of course you would lie. or or, if she wanted
you to, and you would be a poor cuss if you
wouldn’t. But I want to get hold of the
straight thing on this.” - . "

“is that the ticket, major? I thought: you
didn’t care for her: but I reckon you are work-
ing the same lead with the rest of us. Well,
sir, she has not been here to-night, nor any-
where near here, that I know of.”' " ‘

“ She was away from her place quite‘awhileh
and her Chinaman said that she was here; but
I didn’t believe him. I would like to new -
where she did go to." ' I

“ So would I.” ' ' i

“ Good-night, Tip. If you ever want to play
in anythin at any ame, come down to the
‘Gay and ' appy,’ an [will see that] you get
a square deal. ’

As Belle Bush was about to close her door for
the night, she was confronted by a tall man,
who accosted her in the style Of an old acquaint—
ance.

“ Is it you?” she asked. in atone of surprise.

“Of course it is. Did on suppose I could
keep away? You though you ad gIVen’ me
the slip when you l[panned throu h DeadWOod;
butI found out w ere you be gone to, and
folloyved you; I want to have a. talk with

on. ’ l ' '

“ Very well; but not now. It is after bust.
ness hours. Call in tomorrow.”

CHAPTER IV.
Krr mmon’s AIRS.
Tan day sitar the opening of “ The Chronic.”
Chuckaluck had anm her sensation in the ap-

lying, major?” re-

 

pearance of Kit Kenyon. '

He had arrived the night before, but did ’not
“ show up ” until morning. 1

Though quire a YOU“ man—hardly more ,
than twenty five—Kit e-lyon had an estab-
lished reputation in every mining-town and
camp in t lat re 'On. He had a way of ha pen-
ing’ in unexpec edly, and his advent, a ways
occasioned more or less excitement. '

In person he was a splendidspecimen of man-
hood. Fully six feet high, and admirably pro-
portioned, his person was Well set of! by his

ress, which was a mixture of the Mexican'and
American garb," always of fine material and
elegantly fashioned. ' _.

His face, always cleanly shaved With the ex-

ception of a long dark mustache, was handsome

to correspond with the rest of the man, and his
piercing, coal-black eyes made him a remark- ,
able pemc'm in any company. - ‘
He called himself a speculator: but his busi-
ness, if he can be said to have had a business,
was that of a’gambler.' That is to say, he pro~
tossed to play merely fer amusement, but selw
dom failed to get the best end of.any gum he
- I

I

 

 
 
 

 

4« .. '

. I \

‘The - ‘

vingl‘iSport.

 

 

took hold of. He was always flush of money,‘

and was not known to have any other means of
getting it than his “ little games."

In character he was regarded as a dare-devil
without being reckless. His courage was un-

questioned, and he was known to be a sure shot I

and hard hitter.

His disposition was good enough; but he had
an overbearing air am a superciliou< manner
that fre uently brought him into conflicts that
he woul have preferred to avoid, and tho<e
ways of his were to some people quite insuffer-
a e. ‘

His style proved to be very offensive to sev-
eral citizens of Chuckaluck that mmning.

As he sauntered down the stre:t—swaggered,
his enemies would have said—he aroused the
wrath of some men in a saloon whose frequent.
ers drank early and often, and some of them
determined to go out and “ tackle him.”

He saved them that trouble by stamping into
the saloon, where he was encounter-e by Steve

,Darden. the bully of Chuckaluck, a tall, gaunt,

beetle-brewed and heavy-fished fellow.

“I say, Kit Kenyon do you think you own
this town I” demanded SteVe. in tones that
plainly indicated that he was on the war-p tth.

“No, indeed,” mildly replied Kenyon. “I
don’t pretend to he was thy; but I am not quite
so peer as that.”

' Mebbe you don’t think it wuth ownin’?”

,“ MaybeI do. If you want to sell it, I will
make you an offer. I have a five cent iece
which I found on the neck of adead Digger
Injun. It was the poor devil’s only jewelry,
and I kept it as a curiosity. I hast no use for
sucha small coin, and w 11 give it to you for
your town.” .

" Think you’re smart, don‘t you?” sneeringly
re lied Darden.

’No. Come to think of it, I am, uite too
liberal—throwing away my money. have 1
sort of coyote pasture beyond here—a patch of
sage-bush and sand—which I will ive you for
your town, if you will cart 01! the inhabitants.”

This insult was too much for the citizens of
Chuckaluck there assembled. and it was evident
that they relied upon Steve Darden to resent it.

He was ual to the occasion.

“Fellercitizens,” said he, “I reckon we’ve
had enough 0’ this highfalutin‘ galoot. He
thinks that he’s the A'nerikin eagle and that he
roasts high over all of us. He needs to be took-
on down a, few pegs and I’m the man to do it.
1: he will put away his artillelg, I will give him
a good fi‘ailin’ for the honor o’ huckaluck. If he
won t—’

" But I will,” quickly replied Kit, “You
have your friends here to back you, and I am
alone: but if I could have any show for fair
play I would be glad to accommodate you.”

“I will see that you t fair play.”

All turned and star at the person who arose

' from a dark corner and gave this assurance in a

thin, wheezing voice.
r He was something to look at, too. considering
the contract he proposed to undertake.

A small man, not much higher than the bar.
room counter. and only noticeable for his small
size and his pinched face. He had been seated

» quietly in his corner. drinking nothingi speak-

ly been

“What can you do, little one?” asked Kit, as
this stran e creature came forward.

“ Mr. enyon,” he replied, “ you know, and I
know, that a good revolver, with nerve and
skill to use it, putp a small man on a level with
a big one. Go on with your act, sir, and I will
attend to the rest of the circus.”

“I will tryetyou,” said Kenyon, and he un-
bgckled his t, and laid his weapons on a
c air.

Steve Darden did the same, and the two men
faced each other.

The dwarf had drawn and cooked a revolver,

ing to nobody, andhis presence had ha

perceived.

' and stood with his shoulder against the counter,

facing the other men. -

“Now, Steve Darden,” said Kit, “you think
that I ought to be taken down a few pegs. You
claim to be the bully of this camp, and I think
you on ht to be razeed for the good of the
town. on don’t dare to 11 ht me on equal
terms in any she e. Where 3 that thrashing
you promised me? ’

The bully raised his big fists, but seemed to be
in no burr to use them. ,

He sho d have got his work in more quickly.

‘ His opponent launched out his left, striking
1hiim fairly on the jaw and telling him to the
cor.

Before Kenyon struck that blow he hadedged
toward the chair on which were his revolvers.

, He quickly matched them up and faced the

l

 

croWd. ex ting a rush from them in revenge
for the fa] of their champion.

“No need of that, Mr. Ken on,” quietly re-
marked the dwarf. " This is a out as peaceable
a crowd as ever attended a circus.”

, “There has been a mistake here,” said Ken-
you, as he buckled on his belt; “ but fighting is
m order before explanations. Get up, Steve
and give me your fist in a friendl shake. I
have nothin at all against Chuc aluck. In
fact, I like t 9 place, and am proud of its im-
provement. As for the people, I don’t know
where I would go to scare u a better set.
What put it into your head t at I thought I
owned the town?”

“ You looked that way,” snlkily answered the
crestfallen bully.

“Then I must be a better-looking man than
I had so posed myself to be. If you ever see
me look ng that way again, just at it that I
was built so, and can’t help mysel . Now, gen-
tlemen, in the words of our great and only
Grant, let us have peace. If you will ison
yourselves at my expense, I will take i as a
favor.”

The invitation was unanimougliy Accepted,
and an era of cod feeling Brevail .

“ It is won erful how huckaluck has im-
proved,” remarked Kenyon; “ but the neatest
thing I have seen here is that gay little building
down yonder.”

He pointed at “ The Chrome.”

“ I should proudly remark,” replied the bar-
kee er. “ That is an institution that Chucks.-
luc is ready to go its pile on. It is only a cigar
store, but it was built and is owned and run by
the purtiest little woman that eyer step foot
in shoe-leather. We are all proud of er, and
the whole camp is crazy about her.”

“And you all want to marry her and she
can’t marry but one of on. That looks as if it
might make trouble. at that is a sweet little
shop, and I must take it in. Soak in some more

ison at my expense, gentlemen, and remem-

r me when you make our wills.”

Kenyon tossed a. gel piece on the counter
and walkedput without waiting for chan e.

As he passed out he touched the dwar , who
had followed him.

“ I want to see more of you, little pard,” said
Kit, when they were outside. “ You are small,
but you are business all through. I knew it by
the glitter of your eye when you came to the
front there. ho are on, anyhow?”

“ My name is Jacob emo.”

“Not Nemo, of Tebo?”

“ Well, yes—I don’t mind saying so to you.”

“Who scattered destruction among the Dan-
ites in Utah i”

“ I belieVe I worried them a little.”

“I should say on did, and I am proud to
know you. Wha are (you doing here? ’

“Just lookin aroun .”

“ So am I. e may he of use to each other.
See you later, little pard.”

Kit Kenyon assed down the street, crossed
it, and exits “The Chrome.” It was well
filled with customers. and Belle Bush was 
bind the counter, busy as a bee. She ye him
a slight look of recognition, and when bought
a cigar she at a bit of pager in his hand.

Be open it outside an read these words:

“Look in to-night after business hours. I have
much to say to you."

Before the time arrived,for Kit Ken on’s in-
terview with the mistress of “The hromo”
there was-another sensation at that establish-
ment, and at about she same hour as that of the
previous night. ' '

The usual crowd was there, within and With-
out, when Martin Aylward, the manager of the
Chuckaluck Mine, came riding up the street at
a gallop, and hastily dismounted in front of
“ The Chrome.” , I

“What is the matter with you..A lw‘ard?”
demanded John Burke, observing his lanched
face and agitated air. . .

“ I have seen a ghost,” he huskily replied.

This time there was no roar of laughter in
response to such an absurd statement; but the
usual remedy was used to give him voice and
nerve. . i ‘

‘ “I was ridin in from the mine,”’he said,
“ and of course had to pass the place where
that young fellow was buried—the fellowyou
shot, Burke, as . ou remember.” .' '

‘ “ Confound t e fellow!” angrily exclaimed
the proprietor of the “ Gay and Happy.”

“ So say I. He has given me what I may
call a twist. I happened to be looking towa- d
his grave and there I saw him standing. He
was just as he was when I saw him
stretched out, and there ‘was a big blotch of

 

blood on his breast and his face shone like fire.
I don’t know which was the worst scared, my
horse or me; but he started off like a shot,
and never stode until I held him up here.”

While the ot ers were pressing Mr. Aylward
for more details of the supernatural occurrence,
John Burke turned and entered the cigar store,
where he looked about for Belle Bush. She
was not there. Only the Chinaman was be-
hind the, counter. I

“ Where is Miss Bush?” demanded Burke.

“ Gone expless office,” blandly answered Wo
Sing?
“ ou lie, you heathen. just as you did last
night. Where is she, I say?”

“Gone ex less office,” meekly replied the
heathen his ace beaming with smiles.

John Burke was on the point of making an
an y rejoinder; but be perceived that he was
ma mg a spectacle of himself, and walked
rapid] away to the “ Gay and Happy.”

‘ hat do on think of the ghost story now,
major?” aske Sam B les.

“ Nothing at all. t is nonsense.”

“But Martin Aylward is a sober and re~
spectable man, solid, and of good judgment,
and ’he tells the same story that the darky
to

1d.

“ Martin Aylward is a white-livered coward.
Each of them may have seen something out
there' but my common-sense tells me that it
can’t he a host. I mean to look into the mat-
ter mysel , Sam. I am going out there to-
morrow night. Don’t say a. word about it, but
leave me alone to settle the ghost mystery. ’

CHAPTER V.
“ PARTNERS.”

WHEN Kit Kenyon resented himself at “ The
Chromo ” that night e was instantly admitted
and had the satisfaction of believing that he
had been waited for and watched.

Belle Bush wore a smiling face and was as
pretty as a picture.

She introduced him into a neatly furnished
room at the rear of the store, where the tall
and handsome young man seemed to fit the
surroundings admirah y.

“ So you followed me?” she said.

“ Of course I did, as I told you,” replied Kit.
“When I came across you on your we. to this
neck of woods, and wnen I had the honor of
protecting you from a scamp who had insulted
you—

“Now are on going to brin that u i”

“ Oh, IdonXs bank on that at8 all. It? was a
lucky chance for me,- because I formed your ac-
quaintance—that’s all.”

“I was grateful to you
still am° but I could have defended myself.”

“ I believe you could; but I hap nod to save
you the trouble, and was glado it. You re-
fused to tell me where you were oing; but
there was something that would not at me lose
sight of you, and here I am. But I can’t yet
reckon it up what has brought such a girl as
you—a young lady, I should say, and a real
lady. at that—by her lone self, so far from
1civi‘li’z,ation, and into such a place as Chucks-
uc .

“Did you follow. me here out of curiosity,
than?” she asked.

“No, Bush' it wasn’t curiosit . It was
something better than that. I have eard since
I came here that the whole camp is crazy about

(211,, and I have added another lunatic to the
o

 

Mr. Kenyon, and

“Now, Mr.‘ .Kenyon if we are in tobe
friends, pleasetdon’t talk in that styge?” g
. “If we are going to be friends? Well noth-
mg could make me your enemy, and I hope
that on may never be mine. 0 hold your
frien ship I will mind on as well as I can. I
only wanted on to un erstand that it was not
curiosity the made me follow you. But I
would really like to know, Miss Bush, what
your little ame is.” ,

“My lltt e ame? What do you mean, Sir}
I am no gamh er.”

“ I think you understand me when _I speak of
your little game. 1' am wondering what

rought you here. I can’t believe that on
came so far, and to such a God—forsaken pfhce
as Chuckaluck, merely to start thls cigar store.
There may be money in it; but you could have
made money nearer home. You are not'hunt-
ing a husband here, as that demand could be
better supplied in a better market. .I can’t
guess what you are at.”

“ Why are you so anxious to know?”

“ Because I can .be of use to ou. Whatever
your little game 18, no mango this range can

elp you to play it better than I can, and no
man could be more willing.”

 

l

A A.._.._7_

 

!

 * ~-..—rz:. ..‘T"".' "4.7... ._—s —. A -

The Roving Sport,

 

She looked at him closely and keenly, and ap
peared to be satisfied with the result of her in-
spection .

“Well, Mr. Kenyon,” said she, “I admit
that I have a little game, and vyou ma know
more about it before long. a are riends;
are we not 9”

“Friends? As far as I can say so we are
friends most decidedly.”

“ And partners.”

‘d “IPartners?” exclaimed the young man, sud-
en

H

rising. D “ Please say that again.”
artners in some things. And we can trust
each other, and I will call you Kit, and you
shall call me Belle.”

"Hear me, then, Bellel I swear to you, by
all I hold sacred that whether you smile or
frown on me, I will be true as steel to you; that
I Will think for you and work for you; that I
will live for you, and will die for you if that
should be needed ' that you may do nd on me
in all things, and I will be your fai hful friend
and partner!”

She leaned back in her chair, and took him in
With her two bright eyes.

He was, indeed, a splendid specimen of man-
hood as he stood there, and she could not help
acknowledging that fact. Her look showed
that she felt that here was one who was both
able and willing to aid and defend her; one
upon whom she could rely in any extremity,
and to any extent.

“It is understood then,” she said.‘ “We are
friends, and will trust each other. Now, Kit,
if you really care for me, and want to help me,
I Will give you a job that you can go to work on
as soon as you please.”

" What is that, Belle?”

“ You play cards?”

“ I may say that I do considerabl .”

“ You play a smart and successfufgame’!”

" Well, I believe I have climbed pretty near
to the top of that ladder.” '

"Then, Kit, I want you to play with John
Burke and break him.”

“ What! the major? Burke of the ‘ Gay and

. Happy? ”

“ That is the man.”

“ Is he one of your lovers, Belle l”

“ Not that I know of. He has given no sign

. of such good taste.”

“He was asking after you very particularly
{lo-night, and was cursing your C inaman for a

er.

“I heard of that. Will you take the con-
tract. Kit?”

“Of course I will; but he is a tough subje t
to tackle. I won’t be able to worry him wit
anything but poker. and will have to find a
partner for that. Who shall I get, new? Oh,
yes, the very man. He is a sharp hand at
pokgr, and will suit me if he will go in with

“ Who is that, Kit?” »
“A queer name and a queer man-Jake
, Nemo.”

“ He will do.”

“' Do you know him, Belle?”

“ I have seen him. Now, my friend, it is late,
and I must ask you as a favor to trot along.
Win all you can from Burke and come to me
and report rogress.”

“I will lpay him for all he is worth. Good-
night, Bel e.”

As Kit Kenyon walked up the street he held
his head so high, and had such a loft and arro-
gant air, that any citizen of Chucks uck would
have been justified in “ jumping” him.

 

CHAPTER VI.
ran MAJOR sans rm: eaosr.
KENYON‘» made no attempt to carry out his

\

Q Lontract the next day. John Burke was not in

the habit of playing “ quiet games " in the day-
time, and when night came he was not to be
found at the “ Gay and Happy.”

He had, in fact, fulfilled his intention of going
to interview the ghost of Chuckaluck.

He had declared his urp059 to no person but
Sam Byles, and won (1 not havo spoken of it
even to him if he had not wished to use him.

“_I want you to kee guard for me. Sam.
while I am gone,” he saig, as he examined the
cartridges in his revolver.

“ Guard What?” inquired his confidant.

“I want you to has an eye on ‘ The Chrome ’
and notice whether . [13]) goes away, If
shendoes, I would like to know where she goes

'wm. this injunction i... t his istol in its
place and sallied out. pn' p

"f user that the mayor don’t make up to that
girl, muttered Sam yles. “ It is easy to see

\.

 

that he is struck on her, because he is deadgone
with jealousy. Well, I will watch , her a bit;
but I won’t dog her for him or any other man.”

It was a fine night for ghost-hunting, cloudy
and Very dark. Cmsar Augustus had said that
he was strolling by the light of the moon when
he saw the apparition, but there was no sign of
a moon when John Burke set out on his ghostly
errand.

The dark and lonesome journey, with a ghost
expected at the end of it, was enough to try the
nerves of most men; but the major was not the
least bit nervous. A big, strong, and hearty
man, he prided himself on his indifference to
danger and his coolness under all circum-
stances.

If he felt a little fleet as he approached the
place where Charley anson was buried, there
was nothing-to show that he felt so.

He stood at the side of the road and looked
into the darkness, with the purpose of fixing the
exact locality of the grave.

This be easily did, as he knew the spot
well, and he inwardly dared the ghost to ap-

pear.

It accepted the challenge!

Suddenly a strange white light shone upon the
spot at which he was gazing.

Then, as if it had come out of the round, a
form arose before him, startlingly visi la in the
strange li ht.

It was t 0 face of a young man, dressed just
as Charley Manson was dressed when he was
murdered, just as he was dressed when he was
laid in his grave, and with a patch of blood on
his left breast.

John Burke knew that figure well. He had
nevsr forgotten it. and in his dreams he had
seen-it again and again andhad wondered why
it should haunt him. .

But the face—that was the crowning horror.

It was Charley Manson’s taco, but liv1d and
cor e—like, and shining vividly with astrange
white fire. Lambent flames seemed to leap
from its eyes, and its entire appearance was ut-
terly unearthly.

John Burke ad often boasted of his strong
nerves, and he was, indeed, endowed with
plenty of brute courage; but now he was seized

y a sudden terror, 8. deathlike chill took pos-
Session of his whole body, and a feeling of faint-
ness OVerwhelmed him so that he was unable to
lift a finger.

As the apparition raised its hands, and seemed
to be on the pomt of advancing toward him, he
fell upon the ground in a heap, and his senses
left him.

When he came to himself he was damp and
chilly, perhaps with ldew, perhaps with his own
cold perspiration, and when he rose to his feet
he found himself so weak and tremulous that he
could hardly stand.

He cast a hasty glance at the grave; but the
apparition that had overcome him was no
lon er there.

e looked at his watch by the light of a
match, and was surprised to see how late it

was. .

Then he pulled himself to ether, shook his
legs and arms, cui'Sed himsel for a cowardl
fool, and walked toward the cam as fast as his
weak and stiffened limbs woul allow, never
stopping until he brought up at the bar of the
Galy and Happy.

here he proceeded to restore the tone of his

system by pouring down his throat whisky

in such quantities as astonished the bar~
eeper.

Sam Byles found him there, and his curiosity
was aroused.

“ Did you See it?” whispered Sm.

.“ Come with me,” repl ed the major, leading
his confidant to a quiet corner.

“I saw something,” he‘ continued, his nerv-
onsuess having been driven away by the liquor
he had drank. “ Yes, I saw somethin , and it
may have looked like a ghost. from a istance;
but when I tried to get near it there was noth-
ing there.” '

“ What do you sup ose it was, major?”

“ That is too much or me. It must havo been
some sort of I don’t know what. I have heard
of such things before now, and scientific men
give them a long name.”

“ Then you don’t think it was a real ghost?”

“Why, of course not. I say, Sam, did you
keegran eye on The Chrome?” ‘

H es.”

“ Was she away?”

“ Yes, as much as two hours.” _

“ Where did she go to?” ‘

“Now you’ve got me. She must have sneaked
off by the back way, as I .didn’t' see her liggist
out, and only know that she was gone by m

I

 

.I

ing her. I asked the Chinamanhand he said
that she was ‘ gone expless ofllce.’

“ The heathen lied. I wish you had kept
track of her, Sam, because—because—of this
ghost business.”

“The ghost business! Why, ma or, what in
the name of delirium tremens has 5 got to do
with the ghost business?”

Sam Byles evidently thought that the hardest
head in Chuckaluck had gone crazy. \'

“Now, Sam,” replied the major, “ I think
I know what I am saying. I am not often.

icked up for a fool. I can put. this and that
ogether as well as another man and I do say
that there is something queer about that ghost
bueiness.”

“Of course: but what has the Chrome girl got
to do with it?”

“That’s where the queerness comes in. You
know as well as I do that we never heard of any
ghost until after she came here.”

“ Some time after, major.”

“ Well, as soon as she got settled down in The
Chromo there, the ghost trouble began.”

“That is too much 1" exclaimed Byles. “If
the Chuckaluck Mine should peter. out, you
might as well say that she had done it, because
it ha pened after she came here.”

“ on don’t see the point, Sam. When that
nigger saw the ghost, she was away from her
place, though it was opening day. When Mar-

in Aylward saw it, she was away again, and
to—night you tell me that she had ski ped out.
Each time her Chlnaman lied, and sai that she
had gone to the e ress emce.” . .

“Just because t at happened so, major. do
you mean to say that s e has been playing

host?”

“ It surely looks to me as if she is trying to
run some sort of a rig in Chuckaluc .” .

“ And you think that such a irl as that
would sneak off, on a dark night. a alone, and
tramp out to that grave, to play ghost and run
the risk of getting shot? Durned if I would like
to try it. Perhaps you can tell me why she
should do such a trick.”

“I haven’t gone that far
mean to find out.” 7

“You had better first find out whether you
are right as far as you have ne.” '

“ I mean to. I will ask her to walk out there
with me tomorrow night.”

“What! alone with you?” ‘

“Well, I will take you, along if she wants
more company. If she refuses to go, I will
know what to think. If she goes, and the ghost
don't show up, I shall be sure that she has been
playing tricks.”

“So (you will have the dead wood on her, any-
way. i the ghost don’t choose to come to time.
Well, major I hope you will have a heap of fun
with your ittle game. But just now thereis.

yet, Sam; but I

somethin else on hand. Two men have been
looking or on tb-night, keen to play poker
with on, an theyare upstairs.” . ,

“ ho are they l”

“ Kit Kenyon and a stranger.”

“That is right into my hand. I feel just in
the humor for a big game. Come on, Sam, and
we will We them all thev want.” ‘

Up-stairs the found Kit Kenyon, and With
him was Jake emo, whom Kit introduced as
“ Mr. Samson.”

A game of “draw” was soon arranged, and
the four men seated themselves in a rivate
room, where the play was kept up until day—‘

1i ht.

gIt was emphaticallya “big” game, with no
limit. such as would ave surprised even the-
reckless gamblers of Chuckaluck.

When the players at last rose from the table,
J ohu Burke was astonished at the extent of his
losses. He had been betting so wildly and bin!-
ing so unreasonably that Sam B 193 was more.
than ever convinced that he was ‘  his head.”

“Mr. Samson’s ” winnings were li ht, but Kit
Kenyon left the room with his p90 eta loaded
with ,old and notes. _

“ on were too much for me this time, Kit.”
said Burke. “I don’t know when luck hasrun
against me so. But yo: must” come again, and

ive me a chance to ge even. v
8 “ All ri ht,” replied Kit. “ I will be glad to
accomm you.” ‘

 

CHAPTER VII.
BTA‘NDIN G ran rns'r.

BELL! BUSH had been in her cigar store all
day, quietly attending to business, and smilifi
as she was stared at and rudely complimen
by many men.

Toward evening the rush of custom had sub- .
sided, and at last she found herself alone, as Wo

t

’ i

 

'1'“

XX

1 q.‘ ,1..~;n1.<-.:.~.~.- -: .1 ., n. -‘ N J.

 

l “ ' t
l

\

"The Roving sport.

 

 

Sin had one .to re are su r in the shant l
kiic ien bagel: of thre liguse. ppe y

Just then, as if he had been watching for such
an op rtunity, Kit Kenyon stepped in, and she
intr need him into the rear room.

“ I have come to report progress,” he said.
“ I have succeeded better than I expected. 'That
Jake Name is immense. He can do whatever he
wants to with cards, mid he played into my hand

. splendidly.d Here’s the spoils.
e

He pul from his pockets rolls of notes and
handfuls of gold, whico he emptied int ) her lap.

“Mercy on us!” she exclaimed. “You have
indeed made a haul. But why do you show all
this to mell Do you want me to countit’s”

“Just as you please about that. I want you

’ to h we it, that’s all."

“ Why, Kit. you must not give me your
mpfnsy. I can’t accept it. Take care of it your-
se .

“ It is yours, Belle, more than ' mine. It was
you who made me play for it, and your luck
that made me win it. It is of no use to me, and
I would be sure to throw it away. I have kept
enough for a stake, and mean to leave that pile

here, anyhow."

“ If'you insist upon it, Kit, I will deposit the
money with Rosenheim and Troutman, and will
keep it in trust for you. By the way, I am to
have a visitor tonight, and am going to walk
with him.” ' a

“ With him? Who’s the him i” demanded Kit.

“ John Burke.”

“Has he become one of your lovers, then?"

“He has never spoken to me except in the
way of liteness or of» business, and never
alone. oes that look like a lover?”

“How do you know that he is coming here
to n' ht?”

“ an’t you see that mv house is close against
the Gay and Happy? 01’ course I am smart
enough to find a way of listening if I want to.”

“No doubt of that: but I don’t know why
you should want to. Would you walk out with
me at night, Belle?” ‘

' “ I‘ would greatly prefer not to.”

“ But you are going with Burke.”

“ Yes. ,and I have a good reason for doing so.
Can’t you trust me?” ‘ '

“‘ Of course I can trust you and now I will
take myself out of the way. at I will strike
Burke all the harder for this when I get a.
chance. ,

‘f That is what I want you to do, and I want
you to trust me, Kit.”

That night John Burke did call at The Chro-
me: > He asked to see Miss Bush alone, and was
immediately invited into the rear apartment.

For such abi and strong man he Seemedto
be very bashfu , not to say timid, and he was
slow in getting at the object of his visit.

“I hope you consider me a friend of yours,
Miss Bush, he said, at last.

She was sitting bolt upright and looking him
direct in the eyes; but there was a hard and
fixed expression in her face that was quite dif-
ferent from the smiling countenance she usually

were.

“ I hope that all Chuckaluck is friendly to
me,” she replied.

‘ You may be sure of that; but I am“ your,
neighbor, and I want to be agood friend, as
We} ‘ as a good neighbor. There’s nothing I
wouldn’t do to help you, if you should ever get
In nflnch.”

“ ank you, Mr. Burke.”

“ And now I want to ask a great favor of you.
I want to know if you can trust yourself with
me to take a walk tonight.” 1‘

“ Chuckalu‘ck is hardly the Else) for a girl to
valk out in at night, Mr. Bur e.” _

"But I will take care of yen, and ‘this is a

ticular matter. You have heard of the ghost
t has been seen about here?”

,“ Oh, yes.” ,

" What do you think of it?” ,

' “Ihave never believed in hostsrbut there
We to be something queer u out this one.”

“There is something queer about it, Miss
Bush, and I am very anxious that you should
walk out there with me to—night, and see if it
will appear to us.”

The color came into her cheeks, and she
looked at him more closely than before.

“ That is a strange request to make,” she said, I

“ and I hardly know how to answer it. If there
is such a. thing as a ghost, 1 would dearly love
to see one, though I suppose it would frighten
me out of my wits. Yes, I would like to walk
out‘there to-night; but it is not exact‘l y the
thin to go with you alone.” ‘ “ '

with us.”

line for the ghost-hunt. Come around' here to
the back door when you are ready, and we wrll
slip ofl quietly, as all Chuckaluck need not know
what we are about.”

John Burke went away highly pleased with
his sucCess‘, and after a little while he presented
himself at the back door of The Chrome with
Sam Byles.” .

Belle Bush was ready, and the three set out
together, skirting along the rear of the houses
that lined the main street of Chuckaluck, until
they had fairly passed the t0wn, when they
struck into the road that led to the hills.

Though the night was dark, the, journey was
not alonesome one to Buck this time; yet he
was unaccountably nervous, _and he talked
rapidly and continually, as if to keep his
spirits up.

Belle was quite willing to let him monopolize
the talking, and contented herself with briefly
answering his questions.

‘ Sam Byles found occupation enough in gazing
at the irl and thinking of the ghost, and was
unusua ly silent.

As they approached Charley Manson’s grave
the major‘was less talkativo, and when they
relafched the spot he had little to say for him-
se .

“There is the rev ” he said, inting 03
into the darkness.g 6’ , p0

“ You seem to know the place right well,”
remarked Belle Bush. ,

“ But where is the ghost?” inquired Byles.

There was nothing visible whiCh the wildest
imagination could mistake for a ghost—nothing
but‘ thick darkness in the direction of the ap-
parition’s favorite haunt. . ,

“ It ma show up after awhile,” replied
Burke. “ had been here as much as ten min-
utes before I saw it'last night.” ,

B ‘l‘lYou have seen it, then?” quickly asked

e e. ‘

“ I have seen something; but of course I don’t
believe in ghosts.”

They waited fifteen minutes or more, and the
major, as no ghost appeared, recovered his
Spirits and his nerve, and even began to joke
about the matter.

“ The host is a fraud, or is very obstinate,”
said Be e. “ Perhaps it is not fond of so much
gompagiy. I am tired of this and want to go

ome.

The grave was in an open place in the timber
at the left of the road. At the right the ground
sloped away steeply, forming a valley that was
not rough enough to be called a ravine, though
there was a rocky hint! on the other side.

As Belle turne l away, she sauntered to this
side of the road and casually looked down into
the valley. ‘ r ,

[Suddenly she uttered a scream that brought
her two companions to her side.

“ What a strange light!” she exclaimed.
“ Look there i”

It was down in the bottom of" the valley, at
the foot of the bluff, perhaps a hundred yards
from where they were standing, and was Eist
such a weird and unnatural light as Burke ad
seen shining about Charley Manson’s grave be-
fore the specter appeared to him. '

As they watched it, the scene qmckly
chan ed.

Be ore their eggs arose a ghastly form—the.
same which Bur had seen the night before;
the same which had been described by Caesar
Augustus and Max tin Aylward. _

Belle shrieked, covered her face With her
hands, and turned away. .

Sam Byles, with his eyes bulging out of their
sockets, looked as if he had been petrified on
the spot.

John Burke was not overcome by the appari-_

tion this time. Encouraged by the presence
0‘5 his com anions, as well as by the distance of
the thing. he was quite himself, with the ex-
oe tion of an excusable nervousness.

e cocked his pistol, took aim at the ghostly
form in the valley, and fired.

It might have. been that the mark was,too far
away, or it might have been that his hand
trembled. The apparition did not seem to be
affected by the shot.

A eal of demoniac laughter resounded
through the valley. and the vision vanished.

“ It is one,” said Burke. “ Come, let us get
back to t e camp.” .

Willingly enough they turned and walked
away with him. ‘ '

I “. That was frightful indeed,”said Belle. “ Was
,it the figure of the young man you shot, Mr.

’ j ; Burke?"
-‘ “ (you want‘more' company, Sam Byles will '

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“ Yet it had no chance for its life, just as he

had no chance for his life?"
“I wish you wouldn’t talk that way,” be
“This is a serious matter. 1

5mm replied. _
. on’t understand it, and it worm-s me.”

When they reached Chuckaluck Belle Bush
bade her companions good—night, and entered
The Chrome, and they turned into the Gay and
Happy . ., ,,
“ W hat do you think of the ghost new, major?
asked Sam Byles.

“ Did you see it, Sam?”

‘-‘ I should say I did.”

“Then it was the real thing.”

“ A good bit too real to suit me. But do you
still think that the Chromo girl had anything to
do with it?”

“ How could she? She was with us all the
time. I must confess that I don’t know what to
make of it, Sam.”

“ Well there’s no use in going into the dumps
about it. Suppose We have a game of poker.
Tim says that Kit Kenyon and his pard are
layin’ for us ag’in.”

“ Let us go and tackle them.”

They did tackle them. and again John Burke
lost heavil , and again Kit-Kenyon carried off
the lion’s s are of the winnings.

CHAPTER VIII.
KIT KENYON’s GHOST-HUNT. I

THE morning after her adventure with the
ghost, Belle Bush was waited on by Kit Ken-
yon who said that he had come to report. pro-
gress, and placed in her keepmg another pile of
notes and gold. .. _

' “ This is wonderful l” she exclaimed. “I
never heard of anything like it. How can you
have won so much money from such a player?”

“ It beats me,‘too,” replied the young man.
“But the fact is that the major is the worst
demoralized man I have seen in a long time.
His play is fearfully wild and reckless. My
luck has been something tremendous, too, and
with Jake Nemo to play into my hand, 1 can do
what I please. ‘

“ Can John Burke stand any more such
losses?"

“I believe he is cleaned out, so far as cash
goes. .So you got home safe last night, Belle?”

' “Yes, quite safe.”

“ I knew that you were safe.”

“How did you know that, Kit?” i

“ I was there. I followed you, and never lost
sight of you until you got back.” .

‘You had no right to follow me, Klt Ken-

on.” . -

' “I was bound to take the right when your
safet was concerned, .and you may bet high
that always will take it.”

“ Did. on see the ghost?” .

“ No, at I judged that you were looking for
it. I noticed a little excitement at the side of
the road, and heard a pistol-shot. I came near
stepping up and looking into the matter; but
the exc1tement died away, and I followed you
back to town.”

“Burke shot at the ghost,” remarked Belle.

“And didn’t hit it, of course. I am gomg
out there to-night to take a. look at the cutter,
if it is on exhibition.”

“ Are you going alone?”

“ I su ose so.” I

“I W18 you good luck. Kit.”

“But after he lett The. Chrome, Kenybn
changed his mind about gomg alone in search
of the ghost.

He went to John Burke to whom he explained
his purpose, and requested the pleasure of his
company on the expedition.

Burke frowned and growled, and his answer
was decidedly in the negative. _

“I don’t believe in hosts.” said he, “ and if
1 did believe in them. would keep as faraway,
from them as I could. But I_hope you may
have as good-luck in ghost-hunting as you have
lately had at poker.”

The young man applied to Sam Byers, but
with no better result. ,

“ No more of that for me.” replied Sam. “I
have been there, and have had enough. If on
do see the ghost, Kit, I hope You may tack e it
for a game of draw, and getilaxed.”

“ I will go alone, then,” said Kenyon. “ Per-

haps the thine will be more likely to come to
time than if fhad compan .” 
- He did go alone and ha a pleasant night for
the adventure. There was no moon; but there
were also no clouds, and consequently it was
not "near as dark as it had been when John.
Burke went inhearch of the apparition.

When he reached the lace where Charley
Manson was buried, be 100 ed for the ghost. but;
it did not appear.

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He waited in the road for some time, and
looked down into the valley at the right, but
saw nothing that could suggest any sort of an
ap arition.

e walked across to the graVe, and stood
near it in the attitude of Napoleon at St. He-
lena, thinking of what he had heard of the
death of young Manson, and of the super-
natural manner in which he appeared to par-
sue his murderer.

As he stood there, lost in a reverie, he heard
a slight rustling or whirring sound in the air.
inch as might be caused by the flight of a night

ird. '

The next instant something fell over him,
and he was violently jerked backward, falling
helplessly upon the ground. He knew at once
that he had been lassoed. The rope pinioned
his arms to his sides so that he could make no
effort to extricate or defend himself.

Two men rushed out from the timber and
seized him. In a few moments they had bound
him securely, and then a third came forward,
bringing the end of the lariat.

These men were masked, but it was clear
that they belonged to the worst class of
“ toughs.”

When Kenyon asked them the meaning of
the outrageous attack, the proceeded to make
it plain by going throng his pockets. The
search yields a roll of bills and a few coins,
the whole amounting to not more than one hun-
dred dollars. There could be no doubt that they
had expected to find more, as the exhibit caused
them to curse vigorously.

After a brief consultation they raised Ken-
yon to his feet, and led him away through the
timber.

It was a rather rough route which they com-
pelled the captain to travel; but they soon
came to the end of it, halting at the foot of a
hill, at the mouth of what appeared to be an
abandoned mine.

In fact, it was the old Hard Luck Mine, where
a great deal of mono had been sunk in running
a tunnel into the hil’l’, without finding enough
pav ore to even satisfy a “ mining expert.”

The three men entered this tuunel with their
prisoner, and followed its straight course until
they came to the main chamber, from which
drifts had been started in three directions, in
the hope of striking a fissurewein or a pocket.

Into one of these drifts they turned, and
there they soon built a fire with the fragments
of timbering that were scattered about.

As the hole was both damp and dark, the
warmth and light of the fire were welcomed by
themselves as well as by their captive.

“Well, boys, what next?” mildly inquired
Kit Kenyon after he had made himself as com-
fortable as the circumstances would allow.

“ We want money—that’s W’ot We’re arter,”
replied the leader of the party.

“ Well, you’ve got all that I had. Don’t that

“ otby a dumed sight. Ef you don’t kerry
more’n that, it’s mighty queer.”

They sub 'ected the captive to a more thor-
ough searc than they had yet made; but the
gloss“ examination failed to disclose any more
ucre. ‘

“ W’ot hev you done with it, anyhow?” de-
manded the leader.

“ Done with what?” replied Kit.

“ Done with all our money. We happen to
know that you’ve een winnin’ a big pile from
Major Burke at the Gay and Happy. and it ain’t
your style to soak mone away in any bank but
a fare nk. Wbar is t at money?”

‘fSo, that’s 'your game?” replied Kit, with a
smile. “ You fellows are remarkably well-
posted about in business and my habits, and

ow you got h_ol of so much information puz-
zles me. I did Win some money from John
Burke, but you can bet your lives that it is safe,
and where you will never touch it.”

“ Don’t you be too sure 0’ that, my gay roos-
ter. When we start to do a. thing we’re mighty
a t to do it. That money ain’t fur from Chuck-
a uck, and we want you to fix things so’s we
kin 't it.”

“ t_is a pity that I can’t accommodate you,
my friends; but such is the melancholy fact.”

‘ You don’t want to put on too many airs,
young man. We mean to git our hands on that
money More you git outeu this hole in the

ound.”

“ Then I am in for a long spell, and must take
things as easy as I can. Send out for beefsteak
and a bottleof champagne, and I think I can
stand it.”

“ When you git- any 0’ them fancy fixin’s jest
let us know.” , .

Kit Kenyon resigned himself. to his fate xwith

 

considerable eqnanimity, considering the un-
comfortable nature of his position and surround-
ings. He passed a rather unpleasant night, and
was obliged to admit in the morning that his
rest had not refreshed him.

His captors had some bacori and bread, pro-
cured from he knew not where, and he was
glad to take a snack with them by way of break-
'nst.

After a while the fire burned low, and all the
timber in the drift that was available for fuel
had been burned up.

“Joe,” said the leader, “go out and git some
wood to burn."

Joe went out, and the others waited for him
fully half an hour; but he did not return.

“Durued ueer w’ot’s become 0’ J00,” re-
marked the eader. “ Tom, I reckon you’d
better go out and hunt him.” -

So Tom went out to hunt Joe, but his ab-
sence was also unreasonably prolonged and the
fire was getting very low.

After another half-hour of waiting the leader
became very uneasy.

“Durned ef this sorter thing don’t beat me,”
said he. “I’d like to know \v’ot in thunder has
got inter these cusses to make ’em stay so.
Reckon l’ll hev to go and take a squint around,
myself. But I mean to make a sure thin r 0’
you, young man, afore .I start. I can’t a 0rd
to hev you walkin’ off jest yet.”

He, bound the legs of the prisoner as securely
firms arms were bound, and Went off grum-

m .

Ugly a few embers were then left of the fire,
and Kenyon found himself in the darkness, as
well as alone.

The continued absence of the men who had
gone after wood was singular, to say the least
of it, and it ins iii-ed him with a faint hope of
regaining his li ert .

If he could get rid' of his bonds he might ef-
fect his escape, as the darkness would greatly
aid him, and the only chance to get loose was to
out the cords that tied his hands behind his
back, by rubbing them against some sharp edge
of rock.

He was getting ready ,to make this effort. and
putting himself into position for the purpose,
when he heard steps in the tunnel.

b “151,? use,”-he muttered. “They are coming
ac .

 

CHAPTER IX.
“ ONE AT A TIME.”

KIT KENYON had friends in Chuckaluck—one

figlend in particular, who was true and reli-
a e.
Belle Bush had reason to believe that when
he returned from his ghost-hunt he would come
toher and re rt the result of the expedition;
but, as the wars passsed away, and she saw
nothing of him, she became uneasy, and was
convinced that something had occurred to de-
tain him.

At last she aroused We Sing, and forced him
to go in search of Jake Nemo, who had passed
in the camp under the name of Samson.

When the Chinaman had discovered him and
brought him toher, she told him of Kenyon’s
purpose and his continued abscnce, and ex-
pressed the fear that he had got into trouble.

“It looks_that way,” replied Nemo. “If it
was any ordinary trouble, we might rely upon
him to come clear of it; but this may be ome-
thing out of the way. More than one person in
Chuckaluck knows that he has been winning a
great deal of money, and some roughs may
have laid for him and piled on him. 1 have no
fear that the ghost has grabbed him.”

“Perhaps he has been killed,” suggested
Belle.

“ It is possible. There would be a scrimmage
before any crowd could take him, and that
would be sure to leave its signs.”

“May I rely upon you to do what you can
for him, Jake?”

“ Of course you may, and I suppose I can do
as much in that line as any man. It would
hardly be worth while to attempt anythin to-
night: biit I will watch for him, and if he is
notin camp before morning, I will go after

im. I can at least find out what has become
of him.”

The dwarf went through the town in search
of his friend and poker partner, and made in-
quiries concerning him; but it was clear that he
had not yet got back.

Eaiy in the morning Nemo went to the place
wher Kenyon was accustomed to sleep, and
learned that he had not been there. Then he
was sure that something out of the wa had

happened, and he Set out in the direction of.

Charley Manson’s grave.

A

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His task was easy enou h at the start, as he
knew the precise locality at Kenyon had proé
posed to visit, and had only to follow the road
to at there. ‘

'hen he reached the place he saw no sign in
the road or its neighborhood of any unusual
occurrence, and turned his steps toward the
grave that had lately become so notorious. .

As be. up roached the spot he walked slowly,
and looks ahead anxiously, fearing that 0
might we the body of his friend stretched upon
the turf there; but his spirits rose when he was
convinced that there was nothing of the kind in
si rht. .

e examined the ground carefully, and soon
discovered -the signs of a “serimmage” which
he had been expecting to find. -

The grass was trampled and torn up about
the grave, and the soft ground lainly showed
where a man had fallen, and had) been pounCed
upon. No blood~mnrks were to be Seen any-
where, though Nemo looked for them carefully.

“ They have not killed him,” said Nemo, in a.
tone of relief—“ not' here, at least. The must
have sneaked u, on him and taken 11 an un-
awares, though it is strange that the could do
that trick to such a man as Kenyon. at I may
hepe that he is alive, and all I have to do is to
follow the trail.” ‘ ‘

He had done some wonderful trailing in his
time. this withered little man, and it wasjnot
at all difficult for him to follow the party he
was pursuing, especially as they had made no
attempt to cover their tracks.

The trail led him direct to the old Hard Luck
Mine, and there were signs at the mouth to
show that the party had one in there. '

He knew that Kenyon ad not been carrying
his reCent earnings upon his person, and it was
easy enough to guess that the man who en-
trap .d him intended to hold him as a' prisoner
for t e purpose of extort-ing money from him.

“ They won’t have an easy time at that
game,” muttered Nemo, “and I will be apt to
take a hand pretty soon.” -

Without stopping to consider the matter fur-
ther he entered the tunnel, and went on with
noiseless and catlike‘ tread until the d ness_
was faintly illuminated by the glow 0 light
from a side drift. '

He cautiously moved forward to the_drift,.
and peered around the corner of the rock. 

Then he saw Kit Ken on, sitting bound near
a small fire, and with im were three masked
and rough-leokiug men. I '

“I think I could do it,” he said tohima'elf
as be partly drew a pistol. “But I recko I
had, better wait a bit and see what wllh
u . ,
As he waited he listened to what they were
saying in the drift. I _ ' .

‘ I tell you we’ve ot to hev that money afore
you git away from ere,” said one of the men.
“Ef you don’t fix thin s so’s we kin lay our
hands onto it, thar’s bar times ahead for you.”

“ Then I am bound to know what hard times
means, ” replied' Kenyon. “ I wish I had a
Cigar. ‘ -

After a brief interval of silence the man who
had spoken to Kit ordered one of the others to
go out and get some wood. ,

“ That’s my game,” muttered the dwarf and
he made his emt from the tunnel as silently as ‘,
he had entered it, but more'swiftly,

As soon as he reached the open air he jerked
off his coat, made a roll of it, and jam
behind a large tree near the mouth of the tunnel. ,

One of the roughs came out of the mine, and
looked about for fragments of wood. In his
search he came near the large tree. ‘

The dwarf silently step ed out behiud“him,.f ,'

and threw the coat eyer is head, drawing it
tightly back to the arms.
tripped tluls man, so that he fell hehvily upon!
roum . , '

“ f you make a bit of noise I will blow your
brains out,” threatened Jake, as he Set his, nee
on the breast of the fallen man._ ‘ . :

’Findiug him docile under this treatment, he‘
quickly tied his handshand agged himwith. a
strip of his‘own clothing. hen he ordered him I
to rise, and at the muzzle of .a istol directed
him to station himself with his ackfigainst a
young tree, just out of sight of the mine. , .

He made the man fast to the sapling with his .

own belt, and left him there to meditate ‘On the
chances and changes of life.

“One at a time is the easiest way,”‘said the I

dwarf, as he again concealed himself near the
mouth of the tunnel.

“It is a safe bet that .

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another cuss will soon come out to loci for that I. - _ i

one.” - ..
He had to wait to realize this expectation: but,
his patience was rewarded in time. , .

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Another rou h came out of the tunnel, and it
was plain that e was not looking for wood but
for his companion.

Nemo tried on this man the game which had
been so successful with the other, but did not
trip him so easily and hisstruggle com elled
the dwarfto knack him in the head wit the
butt of a revolver.

The fellow dropped to the ground, and as he
had been stunned so that he was one to man-
a e, the dwarf soon had him tied an gagged.

en be dragged him out of sight of the mme,
showing a strength that con] not have been
expected from a person of his size and build.

“ Only one more to come,” he said, as he went
back to the mine.

This time he did not conceal himself behind
the big tree, but took a station near the mouth
of the tunnel. As there was but one more left,
it did‘ not matter how much noise he might
make.

The leader of the roughs at last came out, but
more cautiousl than the others had come. He

. had reason to elieve that something had ha -

pened to them, and naturally was on the loo -
out for danger.

His caution was needed, but there was not
enough of it to keep him from running into a
similar scrape.

As he emer ed he was met b Jake Nemo and

, a leveled revo ver, and was or ered to drop his

pistol and throw up his hands.

He hesitated about obeying this order, notic-
ing the small size of the man who delivered it;
but the dwarf undoubtedly had the drop on him,
and his, face showed that he was willing to
shoot.

The rough did as he was ordered to do, and
obeyed the further command to lie down with
ground, in which position Nemo
speedily inioned his hands and feet.

Then e dwarf ran into the tunnel, calling

‘ Kenyon by name.

He was answered by a cheerful hail, and
in s. few minutes he was at the side of his

. friend.

“ Is this reall you, J a ks?” demanded the
young man. “ t is so dark in here now that I
can b ly make you out.”

“It’ obody else, my boy,” re lied Nemo, as
he hastened to cut the cords t at bound his
friend’s hands and feet.

“ What has become of those chaps who brought
me here?”

“They are safe enough tied up outside.”

“ Jewhillikens! Well, irate, I must sa that

on are a stunner from Stunnerville.
take a look at them.”

The two men left the mine, and Kenyon, as
he looked at the discomflted roughs, was lost in
admiration of his friend’s strategy and skill. '

“ you want to make them tell who put
them up to this game?” asked Jake.

“No; I am prett well satisfied on that point.
‘ Ali’s well that en s well,’ and I don’t propose to
make any fuss.”

“Then we had better take possession of their
ad turn one of them loose to look after
the ot ers.”

This was done, and the friends walked back
to Chuckaluck in a merry mood.

0n the way Kenyon asked the dwarf how he
had happened to take it into his head to hunt a
ghost-hunter.

“ It was Miss Bush who sent me out," replied

BIDO. .

“ Oh! I might have guessed it. She will do
to bet on. I owe her one for that.”

When they reached Chuckslupk they went
direct to the Gay and Happy, where they found
John Burke and Sam Byles.

Kenyon, who looked at Burke closely as they
entered, was sure that he changed color; but he
stepped forward gayly and gave them a hearty
we come.

*‘ Where were you last night?” he asked. “I
was expecting to see on here.”

By way of reply Kit told what had happened
to hint just as it occurred, excopt that he made.
no mention'of the manner of his release.

»“ How did on get away from the menu-

want

.drels?” deman ed Burke.

“ You could never guess, major,” answered
Kit. “I got outside/o them.”

I“ What do you mean by that?”

“ I swallowed "them !”

 

HAPTER X.
nu. Busn‘s narmucn.

Anna Kenyon and hzs bomranion had left
the Gay and Happy, Sam Bylcs took his prin-

' have not lost enough to break me.

 

..

 cipsl aside for a quiet confab. '

“ Was that game one of your hatching, mav
jor?” he asked. ,

“ What game?”

“ You know what I mean. Trapping Kit
Kenyon and carrying him off to squeeze his
money out of him.”

“ Well, Sam, I did have a hand in that. I
put those men up to it, and the game would
have worked well with anybody but Kenyon;
but he is the devil for luck. I would give
something to know how he got away.”

Sam Byles shook his head sadly.

“ I am afraid that I shall have to cut loose
from you, major,” he said. “ You have not
only got into a run of bad luck, but it looks to
me as if you are going crazy. You have done
more fool things lately than I would ever have
supposed you could do, and this last game gives
you away completely.”

“ I don’t see that. Sam. The game was a
good one, though luck was against me. Those
men were to do the job on shares, and they will
never tell, and nobody will know that I had
anvthing to do with it.”

“ You must be blind to say so. The chances
are that the men were made to tell, and Ken-
yon suspects you. I could easily see that in
his face.”

“ I sha’n't worry my head about it, anyway,
and I mean to manage my business to suit my-
self, Sam Byles.”

But John Burke was worried, and he showed
that he was. He was gloomy and restless dur-
ing the day, and his gruff and surly manners
caused him to be generally avoided.

Late in the afternoon, as he was looking out
of a back window of his saloon, he saw Belle
Bush leave the rear of The Chromo and take an
unfrequented path that would lead her away
from the town.

He hastened out, made a short circuit, and
joined her as if accidentally.

“,I am very glad to meet you, Miss Bush,”
be said. “ I have wanted to see you and have
a quiet talk with you about your self."

“What have you to say to me, Mr. Burke?”
she asked, as there came again into her face the
hard and fixed look which he might have seen
there once before.

“I want to say that Chuckaluck is no place
for a young lady like you. It is too rough and
uncertain. The men here have treated you
very well so far; but some of them may go
wild at any time, and than they will be apt to
make it hot for you.”

“ I do not fear them, sir.”

“But you ought to fear them, and I fear
them for you. If you are bound to stay here
you should have a protector. You should give
some good and able man the right to protect
you. I wish you would give me that right. I
have admired you since I first saw you, and
now I am half-crazy with my love of you.
Nobody here would be better able to take care
of you, and I am a rich man, and all I have
shall be yours.”

The girl halted. They were out of sight of
Chuckaluck, and probably out of hailing dis-
tance.

There could be no doubt that John Burke
was sincere in his declaration, and in dead
earnest. His manner proved this, and the
color that had rushed into his face confirmed
the evidence. Yet not the faintest tinge of a
blush came to her cheek, and she gazed at him
with such an icy stare as might easily have
told him that his passion was nothing to her.

“ Are you sure that you are a rich men, Mr.
Burke?” she coldly asked.

This point—blank query, following his out-
burst so closely, embarrassed him a little.

“ I am generally supposed to bee rich man,”
he replied. “ Do you doubt it?”

“ I understand that you have been losing very
heavily at cards. ”

“ So you got hold of that? Well, 1 reckonl
I have a
good lot of property here, and I own a big pile
of stock in the Chuckaluck Mine.” '

“ I happen to know, Mr. Burke,” I suppose

you do, that the Chuckaluck Mine is a failure,

a ' ‘ l

 

and that work is only kept up for the purpose
of getting more money from the Eastern stock-
holders. When the bottom falls out of that
mine, Chuckaluck will soon be deserted, and
what will your property here be worth then?”

“ I didn’t suppose that you were so keen
about money,” grumbled Burke.

“There is another point,” she said. “ Ihave
romantic ideas, and if I should marry I would
want my husband to be a bold and dashing
fellow—a road-agent, or something of the
sort.”

“That is right into my hand!” he eagerly
exclaimed. “ I have been in that business,
and am thinking strongly of taking it up
again.”

“I think you had better do so.
that will take you out of my sight. ”
“ What do you mean by that, Miss Bush 3”

" I want you to understand me plainly. If
you were as rich as Croesus, and the boldest
brigand that ever robbed a peaceable traveler,
I would no more think of marrying you than I
would think of marrying a wolf or a rattle-
snake. I could nevrr marry a cowardly mur-
derer.”

“Why do you call me a cowardly murderer?"
he demanded, as the flush of anger rosa to his
face.

“I do not know how many murders you
have committed,” she replied, “and I suppose
you would not care to count them. But Ii have
heard of one case since I came here, and it
would be hard to imagine a meaner and more
cowardly murder.”

“ What are you speaking of 3”

“0f the cruel and wanton killing of a young
stranger whom you were cheating at a gam-
bling game. You were turned loose after you
had committed the crime; but I believa that
you will yet be punished for it. It seems that
the ghost of your victim has come back to
haunt you, and I hope it may continue to
haunt you until it drives you into your grave.
For my part, I have nothing but contempt and
detestation for such a heartless and cowardly
murderer.”

John Burke writhed under the cutting lash
of her words. As she spoke, his face turned
fiery red, and then ashy pale. When she men-
tioned the ghost he shivered as if he was struck
by a chill. As she finished her defiance he
turned upon her in a fury of passion, and his
tall form fairly towered over her.

“ Do you dare to say such things to me?” he
demanded, in a harsh and husky voice.

“You have heard what I dared to say,” she
answered.

“Why, girl, don’t you know that I could
take you with one of my hands and crush you
where you stand?”

“Are you sure that you could?”

“ What is to hinder me?”

“I am to hinder you,” she replied, stepping
back a pace or two.

As she did so she produced a handsome re-
volver, richly mounted and with ashining bar-
rel. lts beauty, however, did not conceal its
deadly nature as she quickly cocked it and
leveled it at his breast.

“I have this,” she Said, “and I know how to
use it. I could shoot you where you stand, but
I do not want to kill you. Your time has not
yet come. The best thing you can do is to
walk off and leave me, and I will go my way.‘
You see that I am even with you, if not'a little
ahead at this moment.”

Burke tried to laugh, but the efl'ort was a
manifest failure. -

“ I ain’t afraid of your popgun,” said he. “ I
had no idea of hurting you. and don’t want
to hurt you. I made you a fair offer, and you

Anything

insulted me shamefully, and that ends the .

matter.”

He walked away toward Chuckaluck, and
she followed him at her leisure.

John Burke was in even a worse humor
than ever during the rest of the day, and until
the Gay and Happy was closed at night. He
was shunned by gamblers and guzzlers alike,
and even Sam Byies kept away from him. Ha

I .

‘-.c

.__

‘-—-A fl». v

 

\____

The Roving Sport;

 9

 

 

sought- to raise his spirits by pouring whisky
down his throat; but the more he drank the
wow sullen and morose he became, and the
fiery drafts did not seem to quiet his nerves or
afiect his brain.

When the house was closed he went to bed
in his room upstairs, and after awhile he slept;
but he tumbled and tossed about as if his slum-
ber was haunted by bad dreams.

At last he was awakened by a. Cold air that

low upon his face and chilled him to the bone.

He started up in bed, and a fearful sight met
his astoni~hed gaze.

The walls of the house, which Were of rough
plank, were covered with white muslin instead
of lath and plaster, and on the wall beyOnd his
bed, and at the left, suddenly appeared a hu-
man figure—if it could be called human—in a.
circle of light that sh0ne with unearthly radi-
ance in the darkness of the room.

It was the same figure that he had seen twice
before—once at the young stranger’s grave,
and once in the Valley at the other side of the
road-the ghostly figure of Charley Manson.

He was in such a dazed condition that he
could not clearly make out its features or the
details of its form; but he recognized it plainly
enough, and on its breast he saw the blotch of
blood.

By a. supreme effort be snatched a revolver
from under his pillow, cocked it with a trem-
bling hand, and fired at the figure on the wall.

Instantly it vanished, and its disappearance
was followed by a peal of weird laughter that
seemed to fill the room with its echoes.

Sam Byles, who slept in an adjoining apart-
ment, came running in at the sound of the
shot.

“What is the matter, major?” he demanded.

Receiving no answer, he struck a light, and
found Burke insensible in the bed.

It was no easy task to revive the stricken
man, and when he came to his senses he was
still almOst stupefied.

-‘ What’s up, major?” again demanded Sam.
“ Did you fire that shot i”

“Yes. It came here to see me and I fired
at it.”

“ What came here i”

“The ghost. I want to go into your room,

Sam, and sleep with you.”
"Come along, then. I must say, old man,
that you are in a bad way.”

 

‘- CHAPTER XI.
JonN BURKE PLAYS TRUMPS.

h was a common remark in Chuckaluck the
next day that Major Burke looked as if he had
been drawn through a knot-hole.

He appeared to be a changed man through-
out, and not in any respect changed for the bet-
ter. In the space of a few days he had grown
thinner and apparently much older. His face
and form showed the ravages of a secret dread
or a harrowing anxiety. But it was in his
temper that‘ the change was most plainly and
unpleasantly visible. He made himself so dis-
agreeable to all the guests of the Gay and Hap-
py that the custom of the once popular saloon
began to fall 03 rapidly.

“ He also “ took to drink” in the most alarm-
ing manner, and the worst of his drinking was
that there was no sociability about it. He

" called for his drinks without inviting hisac-

quaintances to join him, and guzzled his liquor
alone in a. manner that excited the disgust of
all beholders.

Before noon he left the Gay and Happy, and
did not return until near the closa of day.

Then he took Sam Byles into a private
room up-stairs for a secret Consultation.

“Sam,” be said, “I am going to quit this
place.” ' v

“ The saloon, do you mean f”

“ Yes, and Chuckaluck, too.”

“ Going to sell out?”

“ No; not yet at least. The fact is, Sam,
that I am a great deal worried.”

“ You look it, major. I never saw a man
show it .more.”

“ I have got. into a run of bad luck, and it is J

\

 

getting worse and worse, and that ghost busi-
ness is too much for me. I am ashamed to say
that I am going to run away from the ghost,
but that is about the size of it.”

“ The ghost may iollow you,” suggested
Sam.

“I don’t believe it will. When I get well
away from that cursed grave I think I will be
safe, and then my luck may change. I am
going into the hills, Sam.”

“ To go into the old business again, major?"

“ I may strike out and make a raise in that
line. I am going into the hills, anyhow, and I
mean to take that girl with me."

" What girl? Not the Chrome girl 1"

“ Just that one.”

Byles shook his head and looked at his chief
as if he were again questioning his sanity.

“ Do you mean to say that she wants to go
with you?” he asked.

“ No; I am just going to take her.”

“ Better think twice before you go into such
a scheme as that, major. You will have all
Chuckaluck against you.”

“What do I care for all Chuckaluck? The
camp will soon be played out, and I mean to
shake it in time. All Chuckaluck may whistle
for me when I once get loose. I tell you, Sam
Byles, I am crazy for that girl. I had a talk
with her yesterday and told her so, and asked
her to marry me, and made her as fair an offer
as Icould. What do you think she did? She
scorned and insulted me. She called me a
cowardly murderer, and declared that she
would sooner marry a wolf or a rattlesnake.
Do you suppo~e that I will submit to being de-
spised and spit upon by such achit as that!
No; I would carry her off if it was only out
of spite. I mean to do it, too. The business
is all arranged. Some of my old pards will
be in here to-night, and then she may bid
good-by to The Chromo.”

“ If you will, I reckon you will; but you
must count me out, major.”

“ Why so? ’

“ You can’t get me into any such scrape. I
will stay here and take care of the saloon if
you want me to; but you must count me out
of that scheme.”

“ You won’t blow on me, Sam?”

“ Of course not. You have been a good
friend to me, and I will never go back on you;
but I can’t go forward with you any further.”

At night a few rough-looking men drOpped
in at the Gay and Happy, whose faces were not
known in Chuckaluck. But such strangers
were no rarity in the camp, and the presence
of these was not noticed.

It might have been noticed, however, that
they remained and that they called for liquor
at the bar as they planned, without paying
for it.

Chuckaluck kept late hours, but did not run
all night. Even the gamblers and guzzlers re-
quired some rest, and the saloons needed to be
cleaned up, even if the harkeepers did not need
sleep.

It was along in the small hours of the morn-
ing that the Gay and Happy was shut up. The
Chromo had been closed some time before, and
the main street was deserted or nearly so.

Then the four strangers who had remained
at the Gay and Happy sallied forth and placed
themselves about the adjoining building, as if
following a plan that had been previously ar-
ranged.

One of them wns stationed at the front deor
of The Chromo, another at the side that over-
looked vacant ground, and the remaining two
went to the back door.

With the contingent last named was John
Burke, and he direcred their movements, which
were rapid and efl’ective.

As the keywas in the lock on the inside, a
burglar’s tool was used to turn it, and the door
was opened noiselessly.

The Chinaman, who was asleep in the back
room, was bound and gagged before he had a
chance to make a noise, and Burke and an-
other, taking of! their boots, crept silently up—
stairs to Belle Bush’s room.

 

Her door was locked on the inside, as that
down-stairs had been, and it was easily opened;
but the slight sound was sufficient to awake
her, and she started up.

Before she could even scream Burke had
seized her and cowred her mouth with his
hand, and a cloth was quickly tied over her
face, so as to efl'ectually preVeut her from mak-
ing an outcry.

She could not speak, but her eyes plainly told
what she thought of the outrage.

A search was made for weapons, and her
pistol was found under the head of her bed and
taken away.

“You know me,” said John Burke, as he
looked at her savagely. “ I mean business,
and will have no fooling. You are going on a.
journey. If you will mind what I tell you, we
will go out of the room while you dress. You
must promise not to take that cloth of! your
face, and not to go near that window. Do you
pr mise that?"

She nodded her head. '

“ You had better keep your promise. I! you
try to play any tricks, I will be in there quicker
than you can wink. You must hurry, too,
or I will come in before you are ready}

The two men stepped outside, and nearly
closed the door.

There was nothing for Bella to do but obey
the commands of her captor, no matter what
his purpose might be. If she should not dress
herself, those men would Come in again, and
rougher hands than her own would do the
task.

She hastily threw on her most serviceable
garments, and in a few minutes was properly
dressed.

“I am glad to find you so obedient,” said
Burke, as he re entered the room. “I hope
you will continue so; and you will, if you know
what is good for you. If you want to take any
more things, you may make a bundle of them,
but you must be quick about it, as I have no
time to spare.” 

She picked out a few garments, and rolled
them up, probably more with the view of
gaining time and considering her situation than
because she expected to need the things.

“ That will do,” said Burke. “You are too
slow in your motions to suit me. Now I must
tie your hands to keep you from pulling on!
that cloth just when I- don’t want you to.
But that won’t last long. and you will
soon have a chance to talk, if not to scratch.”

She made no useless attempt at resistbnce or
remonstrance, but quietly submitted to the ty-
ing; and then, obeying Burke’s orders, followed
him down-stairs and out of the house.

' The Chinaman was left lying there,bound
and gagged, and the door was locked on the
outside with the same tool that had been used
to open it.

John Burke and his four men led their fair
captive through the darkness to a glen not far
from the town, where a stout two-horse wagon
was waiting for them. .

Belle was assisted into the wagon, and was
seated opposite John Burke. The other men
get in, and the team was driven away, soon
reachinga road along which the horses were
urged at a good rate of speed.

The road was a rough one, and the wagon
had no springs, and its jolting was anything
but comfortable; but this was a small matter
to the unfortunate girl compared with the ap- -
palling fact that she was in the power of one
whom she must consider her deadly enemy.

After awhile the cloth was removed from
her face, her hands were unbound, and she
W"s free to speak, if not to act.

Naturally she began to use the only weapon
that was left to her—her tongue. »

“ Of course you knew that you are a scoun—
drel‘n she said, “ It would be needless to tell
you that.”

“ You may abuse me as much as you please,”
he replied. “You can’t call me any worse,
names than those you gain) me when I last saw .
you. I know that I’va got you and mean to
keep you, and that is all I care about.” ‘

 

 
 

.10

l
I

The. Roying Sport.

 

“ You will not keep me long,” she retorted.

“Indeed! I would. like to know how you
expect to get away.”

“I can at least die.”

“I shall take care that you don’t do any—
thing of the sort.”

CHAPTER XII.
BnnLn’s STRATEGY.

BELL]: BUSH made no further attempt to
tongue-lash the man who had lawlessly taken
possession of her. There was nothing to be
gained by that, and she had enough to think
of in considering the predicament in which she
was placed.

Of all the perils that had entered her im-
agination as probable or possible in that rough
region, no such audacious and outrageous deed
as this had occurred to her. She would
not have supposed that she could be taken out
of her own house, in the heart of the town,
and spirited away so suddenly and so secretly.

But there she was, and she could not begin
to guess what would be the issue of this omin-
ous adventure. There seemed to be not the
slightest chance for herto help herself, and it
was highly improbable that her friends would
be able to follow her.

,, , She knew that she was being taken to a con-
«“ siderable distance from Chuckaiuck, as the
 ’ speed of the horses was kept up with no sign
I V of stopping.
' w ' When the day dawned, she closely noted the
 prominent features of the country through
, _ which she was passing. She might never see
.; ‘ it again; yet it was barely possible that a
 memory of the landmarks might at some time
' ' be of service to her.

Shortly after daybreak the team was halted,
7 and John Burke got out with Belle and two of
 , ‘ themen, leaving the third to go on with the
‘ ' ' wagon.

 

_

g It was a rough and difficult route that the
“; \ girl was forced to travel—up hill and down
 hill, over wooded ridges and through rocky
g ' ravines—but always in the same general di-
rection. ,

By observing the position of the sun, she
[judged that the direction was westward, and,
as she had carefully noted the point where
‘ they left the road, she thought that she might
possibly find her way back, in the improb-
 able event of getting a chance to do so.
{1, , H r This course was kept for nearly two hours,
  and Belle had become quite weary and' foot-
!  ‘ ' \ sore whep they reached a shallow stream that
 , r , came from a northerly direction.
 , Here they halted, and Burke, saying that
A“; » ' they intended to spoil any possible trail by

 Belle that he would carry her, so that she need
 i ' i not Wet her feet. ‘ I
" “A She protested strongly against this style of
’ traveling, declaring that she was not afraid
of wetting her feet, but he picked her up, in
A, “ a spite of her struggles, and entered the water,
’ followed by the other men: '
3 He carried her until he was tired, and then
1‘: , ' passed her to one of his followers, and so they
took turns in bearing the precious bur,den.
 “ ‘ They must have walked fully half a mile in
 , " the bed of the stream when they halted, and

,5

if. r . Belle was grateful for the privilege of carrying
' K v- 

. She was set down on a bare rock that grad-
: ually sloped upward to a ridge, and on which

 " there was no tree or shrub, nor any sign of
j  a soil. It would be clearly impossible to follow
 . ' any trail over that bare rock.
' As she had carefully noted the point where
_ . they entered the stream, so she noted the bare
 V , rock as the point of leaving it.
. She was led to the foot of the ridge, and
r g compelled to climb it with the aid of her con-
" ductors. -
It proved to be level on top and was backed

 

3‘ - ' by ahigh rocky bluff. Against the bluff was
‘ ’ set a stout log house, and around the house,

_ skirting the edge of the ridge, was a stone wall,

.  which had the appearance of being intended

a foatification.

/

 

walking in the bed of ’the stream, informed.

 

Entering the log house at the command of
her captor, Belle discovered that its only occu-
pant was a woman, who came out from an end
of the room that was curtained off by blankets.

This woman might once hare been passany
good looking. If so, the day of her beauty
was Over. She was then coarse, frowsy and
slatternly, with sallow cheeks, a red nose, and
a general appearance of being the worse for
wear.

“And are you here at last, Jack Burke '1” she
demanded. “I thought you was never comin’
ag’in.”

“I am here, as you see,” replied Burke.
“ Where are the rest of the boys, Molly?”

“ Gone a-huntin’. And who is the gay
creetur’ you’ve brought inter the hills, and
whar did you pick her up?”

“She is the daughter of a friend of mine,
and Iarn taking care of her. She will stay
here with you tonight, and in the morning we
will go on.”

“You don’t say. Darter of a friend of
youru? Nice hand you are to take keer of
folks’s darters. But it ain’t no mix of mine,
and I won’t worry.”

“Give your tongue a rest, then, and get us
something to eat, as we are hungry as wolvos.
Make plenty of strong coffee.”

- Belle was givan a wooden stool for a seat,
and she surveyed her surroundings, and again
considered her situation.

It was hopeless enough. John Burke would
be sure to guard her closely, and she could not
see the slightest chance of escape. There
might be afaint ray of comfort in the presence
of a woman, but not of such a woman. Molly
was, of course, incapable of sympathy, and
would willingly obey the commands of the
men.

Belle watched her as she busied herself with
preparing food for the new-comers, but saw
nothing to induce her to look for help from
that quarter. .

As she sat there the girl happened to put her
hand in the pocket of her dress and felt a hard
lump. .

At once she remembered that it was a piece
gt gum Opium which she had procured for Wo

ing. ,

She had taken a great liking to the neat-
handed and obliging Chinaman, and more than
overlooked his few vices. She had no objec-
tion to his smoking an occasional pipe of opium,
as that indulgence did not interfere with his
duties, but seemed to make him more active
and willing. Consequently she had purchased
the lump of opium for him.

Just then she thought that she saw a use for
it.
She stepped up to the woman, who was set-
ting a big pot of coffee on the coals in the clay
fire-place, and. spoke to her.

“May I help you? I am not tired now, and
would like to have something to do.” I

“ Thar ain’t nothin’ you kin do here, child,”
replied Molly, as a look that was almost plea-
sant came into her coarse face.

“ I am right handy,” insisted Belle, “ and I
would be glad to help you.”

“Well, if you’re so eager, you may watch
that coflee, and see that it don’t bile over.”

This was just the employment the girl
wanted.

She watched her chance, and when she
thought that nobody was looking at her slip-
ped the lump of opium into the coffee. Then
she did her duty in attending the cofleepot.

The meal was soon prepared and placed on
the rude table, and the four men attacked it
with hearty appetites, eating abundantly, and
washing down the repast with copious draughts
of the steaming coffee.

Belle refused to join them, declaring» that
she could not eat. She perceived, greatly to
her discomfiture, that the woman also re-
frained from eating and, drinking, saying that

it Was but a little while since she had finished

her breakfast. v p . >
There was. nothing for the girl to do but wait

frandfsee“ what the efl'ect of the opium would

 

be. Would it stupefy them? Would it kill
them? What would it do? It was a pretty
big lump of the poison, and it must have dis-
solved in the boiling coffee.

The first indication she had of the reality of
its presence came from John Burke. '

“ I told you to make me some strong coffee,
Molly,” said he, “and this is strong enough to
pull a house down. It is so strong that it is
bitter.”

“ Want some more Water in it?” asked the
woman.

“No; but you must give it to us weaker at
supper time, or I won’t get a wink of sleep the
whole night.”

When the men had finished their meal, John
Burke lighted a cigar, and the others lighted
their pipes, and they had a comfortable smoke.

Belle continued to watch them, and it seemed
to her that the woman Molly was also eying
them rather curiously.

After a while they all showed signs of
drowsiness; but Burke was the first to yield.

“I am shamefully sleepy for this time of
day,” said he. “I have lost a sight of sleep
lately, and I reckon the tramp this morning
has used me up. I believe I will take a little
nap.”

He laid a blanket on the floor, took another
for apillow, and lay down.

It was‘ not long before one of the men fol-
lowed his example, then another, and finally
the third, and they were all so overcome that
they were not as careful in preparing their
couches as their chief had been.

“Look out fur things, Moll,” muttered the
last man as be stretched ,himself out on the
floor.

Belle looked at them as they lay there. and
was half-frightened at what she had done.
She knew that they would not awake soon, if
ever.

Would they ever awake! That was the
question that troubled her.

It was certain that they were helpless then,
and what was to hinder her from walking out
and using her freedom? ‘

Nothing but the woman.

What should she do with the woman, who
was there like a lion in her path? _

If she could steal around to one of the sleep-
ing men, she might secure a. pistol, and then
defy the woman.

That seemed to be the only chance.

But Moll spoke to her, and there was a queer
look in her face as she spoke.

“ I say, young-’un, I dropped onto that little
game 0’ yourn. I wasn’t brought up in the
woods. But I don’t go ag’in’ it. ‘If I did you’d
ha’ heerd from me store now.”

“What do you mean?” anxiously [asked
Belle.

“ I mean that if you want to slide of! Idon’t
allow to .hender you. I ain‘t doin’ Jack
Burke’s dirty work so much as I was. What
did you put into the coffee?”

“Opium,” replied Belle.

“ That’s p’ison. Will it kill ’eml”

“ I don’t know. 1 hope not.”

“ Well, I don’t know as it ’ud make any very
big differ’. They’re safe enough, anyway.
Thar’s the door, young-’un, and if you’re for
slopin’, you’d better slope. T’others may come '
back ’most any time.”

Belle thanked her warmly, and turned to
go. ‘
“Hold on. You’d better take some grub.
Wait and I’ll fix it.”

The women made a bundle of bread and
meat, took John Burke’s pistOl from his belt,
and“ gave both to Belle. ,
Again the girl thanked her, and left the
house. ‘

 

CHAPTER XIII.
mm WRATH or onucnwcx.

WHEN morning came, and The Chrome was
not open to the public, surprise and consterna-
tion prevailed in Chuckaluck.

The strange news spread rapidly, and soon a

 

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The Roving Sport.

 

 

wondering crowd was gathered about the 1 They dragged him roughly out of the saloon,

closed store.
It was naturally supposed that if Miss Bush
had been taken ill, there was nothing to hinder

\Vo Sing from opening.r the house and attending '

l

to business, or at least giving information of ‘1

her condition.
There were some who jumped to the conclu—
sion that the Chinmnnn hud murdered her.

Kit Kenyon and Jake Nome were in the:
crowd, of course, and the former assumed the 3
‘ manner.

' leadership of the investigation that ensued.

Going around to the rear of The Chrome,
they perceived that the door was locked on the
inside, and that the shutter of the Single win-
dow was tightly closed. It was to be presumed
that, whatever had happened, the inmates of the
house were still inside.

The shutter was quickly pried oii’, and the
window was darkened by as many heads as could
get near it.

On the floor was dimly seen the prostrate
form of the Chinaman.

“There has been murder here,” was the gen-
eral expression; but the door was broken open,
and the truth was discovered.

Wo Sing was unbound and ungagged, and
he aroso from the floor, as placid and patient
as ever.

The usual remedy was resorted to, to revive
and strengthen him, and he told his story
plainly and fully. He had been able to keep
his eyes and ears open, and had recognized
John Burke, though the other men were stran-
gers to him.

Belle Bush’s room was visited, and the fact
of her absence was made certain.

Then Chuckaluek was stirred from center to
circumference. ' ‘

If. there had been any doubt as to the popu-
larity of the mistress of the Chrome, the de-
velopments of that morning would have set it
at rest. The entire population of the camp
was intensely excited, and in a little while
miners and ranchers began to flock in from the
surrounding' country. increasing the clamor
and swelling the volume of excitement. It
was agreed on all hands that the outrage was
a most dastardly and abominable one, and
that no punishment could be too extreme for
its perpetrators.

What had become of them? was the ques-
tion in the mean time, and it was by no means
an easy question to answer, as the Chinaman
did not know what direction they had taken,
and they had left no trace by which they could
be followed.

Jake Nemo reasoned the matter out to his
own satisfaction, and believed that he could
find the trail after a little search; but Kit
Kenyon had a plan that seemed to promise
speedier results, and it was at once put in exa-
cution. ,

Accompanied by Nemo and a crowd of citi-
zans he entered the Gay and Happy, where
Sam Byles was found attending to the interests
of the establishment.

John Burke’s confidant looked pale and anx- .

ions, and the app arenas of Kenyon at the
head of a crowd did not tend to brighten him up.

-“ What has become of Major Burke:” (19-
manded Kit.

“I don’t know anything more about him
than you do,” replied Byles.

“ I suppose you know that he’ has carried off
Miss Bush?” . '

“Of course I do. Everybody knows that.”

“Do you mean to tell me and this crowd
that you don’t know where he has gone to?”

“That is what I haVe already told you.”

“I don’t believe you, Sam Byles. I know
that you would lie for Burke, and have no
doubt that you areidoing so now. You are in
all his secrets, and can’t be out of this. It
will be best for you to own up and tell all you
know." '

Byles persisted in declaring that he had
nothing to tell, and then the crowd took the
matter in hand, vowing that they would get
than-nth out of him, if he perished in the at-
tempt

‘l

 

tied his hands and feet, noosed a rope around
his neck, and threw the loose end over the
cross-bar of a telegraph pole.

Kenyon and Nemo made no attempt to stop
these proceedings, as they were determined to
get at the truth, and believed that Sam Byles
could tell what they wanted to know.

The victim protested his innocence and igno-
rance: but the roused wrath of Chucknluck
was bent on dealing with him in a summary

A dozen men “tailed on " at the rope, the
noose tightened around his neck, and he was
drawn up into the air, to give him a. taste of
what he might expect if he continued obsti-
natc.

Directly he was lowered to the ground, and
was exhorted in no kindly tones to confess.

“ I weaken, gentlemen!" he said as soon as
he was able to speak. “Give me a drink of
whisky, and I will tell all I know.”

The crowd gathered about him while he re-
peated John Burke’s conversation with him,
which was all he knew about the business.

Many still insisted on hanging him, as he had
known of the outrage that was to be com-
mitted, and it was his duty as a decent white
man to stop it; but he was allowed to present
his side of the question.

“You all know, gentlemen,” said he, “that
the major was a. mighty good friend of mine,
and I couldn’t go back on him until I was
forced to, though I wanted to tell what I
knew. I don’t think I ought to be strung up'
for keeping my promise and sticking to my
friend.”

Kenyon and Name supported him in this
view, and he was suffered to go free; but it
was evident from the words and looks of the
crowd that the Gay and Happy was doomed as
an institution of Chuckaluck.

“ So the scoundrel has gone to the hills,”
remarked Kit; “but whereabouts in the hills!
I don’t see that we are any better off than we
Were before.
would be likely to find him?”

" I do,” replied Nemo. “He used to be in
the stage-robbing and cattlestealing business,
as I have good cause to know. The men who
were with him last night were probably some
of his old gang, and I have no doubt that he
has gone back to them. I know where those
buzzards roost.”

“ Then you can guide us to them 3”

“ Of course I can. But it is aflong stretch
to get there, and we will need a small army to
take their fort.”

' It was easy enough to raise the army.
Volunteers were abundant and eager, and the
only difficulty was in deciding who should go
and who should stay at home.

Kit Kenyon was allowed to retain the lead-
ership he had assumed, and be selected fifty
good men, directing them to supply themselves
immediately with horses and arms and provi-
sions.

The expedition set out, followed by the good
wishes of all Chucka‘lnck. It soon struck into
the road which John Burke and his men had
followed, and pushed forward rapidly.

As Kenyon and Nemo rode at the head of‘

the column, the former noticed that his com-
panion Was unusually excited and remarkably
eager to get on and capture the camp of the
outlaws.

“ I see the same thing in you,” replied Nemo,
when Kit spoke of what he had noticed. “I
think I know what is the matter with you,
and I don’t wonder at it. The matter with me
is that I amhalf—crazy to get hold of that
scoundrel, John Burke, and see him suffer for
his crimes.”

“ Why are you so hot against him?”

“ It:is a question of revenge with me. A
few years ago John Burke killed my only
brother.” ..

“ Not the young man whose ghost has been
about here lately?" ‘ .

“No—it was long before his time. My

J brother Harry was a fine young fellow-moth.

/

Does anybody know where we'

 

ing like such an ugly and dried-up specimen as
I am. His only fault was that he would drink
too much sometimes. At a placer camp not
far from here—since abandoned—he went on a.
spree, and made the acquaintance of John
Burke, who was running a game there, and
was heavily interested in the plundering busi-
ness. -

“ Burke enticed him off to the place we are
going to, and when he got him there tried to ‘-
induce him to join the gang. But Harry, who
had sobered up, refused, and Burke, probably
fearing that he would divulge their secret,
shot him down—murdered him in cold blood.

“ I forced this story from one of the gang
whom I captured not long after my brother
was killed, and since then I have been on the
trail of John Burke. Of course I might have
killed him, but that would not satisfy me. I
wanted to see him hang. But he had given up
his old practices, had settled down and become
respectable, and was careful to do nothing out-
side of the law. '

“ Now, if we catch him, as we must, he will
be sure to stretch hemp. The people of Chuck-'
aluck have a grudge against him that nothing .
short of his death will settle. They will take
the law into their own hands, and I must say,
Kit, that it will be a real pleasure to me to see
him strung up to a tree.” '

“ We must take him alive then.” K _ .

“ Of course we must take him alive. Chuck-f
aluck would never forgive us if we should
spoil its sport.” .

As the party begun to descend a hill at the ~

foot of which was a glen not deep enough to.
be called a canyon, an unexpected sight .pre-'
sented itself.

At the foot of the hill was a stage which had.
been halted by several masked men, two of
whom stood at the horses’ heads, and the others
seemed to be “ going through” the passenge
or forcing them out of the vehicle. . ‘ ’

They had suddenly come upon a stage rob~
bery. ' ,

“ Git onto ’em, boys!” shouted Kenyon, and i
he dashed down the hill, followed by Name
and the rest of the party. ,

The brigands, intermpted in their pleasing
task, were quick to take the alarm. Running
to their horses, they mounted hastily, and
galloped of! at full speed. ' . -

Kit Kenyon, sweeping past the stage, was in
time to overtake the real-most ,man, who dis.
regarded his command to halt. ‘

Dashing up to his side, Kit seized his bridle-
rein, and jerked his horse around.

The brigand drew a pistol, but a blow of the ~ i '

butt of J nke Nemo’s revolver disabled his arm, ‘

and he was a prisoner. I , «

“ We want something out of you,” said Kit.
“We are looking for Jack Burke.”

“Don’t know nothin’ about him,” replied
the man.

“ He is at your fort, or whatever you callit.‘ ‘ "

Guide us there.” i

“ Don’t know nothin’ about no fort.” ,

“ Bring a rope here, boys!” commanded Kit.,‘
“We will string this fellow up, as we have no
use for men who don’t know anything.” 

At the sight of the rope the man weakened;

“I’ll do it,” he said. “ I ain’t readyto be'
hung yet.
me loose?” =

“ If you guide us there all right,” replied Kit)

“ you are free to leave the country, and you .

had better do it in a hurry. Ride on between
us two, and I reckon you know that you had
better not try to play any tricks.” _ ‘

The party left the road, and plunged into
the timber. ,

._——I

CHAPTER XIV"
A BOOK BOMBARDMENT.‘

Ef I take you thar, will you turn;

Ir was near the close of the day when the V '

journey of the Chuckaluok party cameto an
end. 7 ,. -
Before them, at the foot of a slope, was a;

small and rapid stream, beyondwhiah was u._, I

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712.. Laws, -..; ; '

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The Roving Sport.

 

 

stretch of bare rock, terminating in a ridge
that was backed by allofty bluff.

From their somewhat elevated position they
could see a log house on the ridge, and a stone
wall that looked like a fortification.

, They had found the “ fort ” they were look-
ing for; but. it seemed to be almost im-
pregnable.

Some men were visible on the ridge, who

"descried them, and pointed them out to others
- /who came from the house.

“ Thar’s the place,” said the involuntary
guide. “ May I light out now 5”

“Not just yet,” replied Kenyon.
want to use you.”

The horses were left in the timber at the foot
of the slope, in care of a guard, and the rest of
the party crossed the stream, and took a posi-
tion on the rock beyond, out of reach of bullets
from the ridge.

It was necessary to communicate with the
outlaws, and explain the purpose of the party;
but this was seen to be a rather dangerous
task. A flag of truce was out of the question,
and there was no cover to protect the approach
of a person within speaking distance. If the
men on the ridge should prove to be viciously
inclined, nothing could hinder them from shoot-
ing the messenger down.

But Kit Kenyon was equal to the occasion.

He had kept his captive with a view to' this
emergency.
/. He explained to that individual his object of
using him as a shield for the protection of his
own precious person, and forced him into the
service in'spite of his protests. ‘

“ They know you, and won‘t' hurt you,”
said Kit, “and I don’t mean to take any
chances, though my errand is a peaceful
one.”

Taking the man by the collar, and holding a

“I may

. cocked revolver near his hea i, Kenyon com-

pelled him to walk in advance while they
crossed the bare rock, and came within hailing
distance of the ridge.

. His precaution was appreciated by the man
above, who seemed to be peaceably inclined.
One of them looked over the edge, and inquired
what was wanted.

“We want Jack Burke and the girl he
brought here to-day,” answered Kit.

“ Don’t know nothin’ about no sech folks.”

“That won’t do, my friend. We ’know
that they came here, and we are bound to get
them.” - ‘

“ Suit yerself, then. I tell you we don’t
know nothin’ about no sech folks.”

-“ Will you let us come up there and satisfy
ourselves?”

“ Not by a durned sight.
mind yer own business.”

‘ “If you will give up those two, we won‘t
bother the rest of you. If you refuse to give
them up, we mean to clean out the whole

n .f!

“ Fire ahead, then.
of that job afore long."

Kenyon retired backward over the rock,
still keeping his shield before him, until he
reached his friends, towhom he reported the

Jest go along and

I reckon you’ll git tired

. ' result of his mission.

Then he turned loose his captive, warning

in: to make no attempt to communicate with

his comrades, but to take himself out of that
’part of the country as speedin as possible.’

As night Was failing, the men from Chuck-.

aluck formed a cordon about the ledge, divid-
ing into two parties, one of which was to re-
have the other at midnight.

Kit Kenyon, who allowed himself no rest,
inspected the sentries continually to see that
they kept good watch, and that none of the
outlaws slipped through the line.

In the morning the problem of attacking the
fort again presented itself, and was as far as
ever from a satisfactory solution.

It was impossible for the assailants to ad-
vance over the bare rock without exposing
themselves to the fire of their adversaries, who

. ’ were in or position of absolute security, and
v ‘i‘could pick them 08 at their leisure.

Evenif

-
91 '

 

a considerable number should succeed in reach-
ing the foot of the ledge, the only place at
which it could he climbed was so steep that
few if any of them would be able to get to the
top. I

A portion of the party posted themselves be-
hind such cover as they could find, and opened
fire on the fort; but this long-range practice
was so ineffective that it did not even elicit a
reply.

It was clear that something must be done,
or they would be obliged to admit the failure
of the expedition, and go home ignominiously.

A council of war was held, at which various
projects were ofi‘ered and rejected.

“Something has got to be done,” said Kit
Kenyon. “ We don’t mean to back out of this
business and go home to be laughed at. We
must get those scoundreis out of there, if we
have to blow down the whole side of the blufl.‘
on their heads.”

He was looking up at the bluff as he spoke,
and the eyes of the others follOwed the direc-
tion of his glance.

“That‘s the game,” he continued. “There
is plenty of loose rock up there, and it can be
got at by a hard climb. Those cusses are not
as safe as they think they are.”

Ten stalwart miners were chosen to ascend
the bluff, and Long Ben Radleigh, of the Chuck-
aluck Mine, was chosen to command them.

They made a circuit around the ledge, and
proceeded to climb the bluff at a point where a
spur sloped down to the brook.

Hours passed before they made their appear-
ance at the edge of the bind 'and signaled to
their friends below, who greeted them with a
cheer that caused consternation among the gar-
rison of the ridge. ‘

The work of the miners soon began to show
itself. r

A heavy piece of rock, detached by them
from the edge of the bluff, dropped on the ledge
near the log house, where it broke into frag-
ments. »

Several men ran out of the house, and among
them was a woman; but Jake Nemo, who had
a field-glass, declared that it was not Belle
Bush.

A much larger piece of rock was then slipped
over the bluff, which crushed down upon the
log house, demolishing it, and scattering the
men on the ledge.

The only chance for them then was to stay
as near the edge as possible, and even then
they were faffrom safe, as bullets from the top
of the blufl began to drop among them, and
their assailants in front began to redouble their
fire as they advanced toward the ridge...)

The outlaws did not long endure this unex-
pected style of warfare, but raised something
white as a signal of surrender.

There were no negotiations. The Chucka-
luck men hastened to climb the ridge, and Kit
Kenyon was the first to reach the top.

He looked about for Burke and Belle Bush,
but saw neither of them. \.

“Where is Jack Burke?” he demanded.

“ There he goes!” shouted one of the Chucka-
luck men near him, pointing to the valley,
down which a man was seen running at the top

“of his speed.

Jake Nemo brought his field-glass to bear on
the fugitive, and pronounced him to be John
Burke, and a number of men at once set OR in
pursuit.

The woman who had come out of the log
house stepped forward and spoke to Kenyon.

“The gal ain’t here,” she said. “Jack
Burke brought her here this mornin’. but she
ddn’t stay more’n two hours. She dosed the
crowd with. opium, and slid out. That’s a solid
fact, stranger.”

Np more attention was paid to the captured
outlaws. They were of small consequence
compared with the punishment of Burke and
the recovery of Belle. '

Kenyon almost'tumbled from the ledge, and
hurried 08 down the valley, after directing
some of the men to follow with the horses as

speedily as possible.

I e

.f‘ ’

 

CHAPTER XV.
THE LONE CABIN.

WHEN Belle Bush found herself clear of the
log house, she descended the ledge without dif.
ficulty, and hastened down the valley, taking
the route which she had followed when she was
brought there.

She ran until she was out of breath, and
then it occurred to her that she did not need to
overexert herself, as some time must pass be-
fore the men she bad left would awake from
their opium slumber, if they should ever awake.
She was possessed by a haunting fear that she
had killed them.

She walked slowly until she was rested, and
then stepped forward more briskly.

The landmarks which she had noted as she
was brought from Chuckaluck by her captors
were retained in her memory, and she had good
reason to believe that she woutd be able to find
her way back to the road. If night should over-
take her on the journey, she was armed, and
hoped to be able to protect herself.

But landmarks are sometimes deceptive, as
there are many objects in nature which appear
similar when viewed by inexperienced eyeS,
and this fact was to give the girl trouble.

The landmark which she had noted at the
place where she met the brook and turned to
go up the valley was a splintered tree, and at
the first splintered tree she saw she struck 08
to the left.

She was obliged to guess at the time of day,
and consequently at the position the sun should
cecupy, in order to shape her course; but she
knew that it must be nearly at right-angles to
the direction of the stream, and she plunged
boldly into the forest. . I

After a while the conviction forced itself
upon her that she had as yet seen nothing
which she remembered to have seen before,
and then she came to a deep ravine which she
had surely not encountered as she came.

There seemed to be no use in going back to
the brook to take a fresh start. She thought
that she knew the direction in which the road
lay, and that she oeuld press on and reach it at
last.

She turned southward with the intention of
passing around the ravine, and had succeeded
in reaching the head of that obstruction,
when she suddenly came upon a small cabin or
hut.

Rude as this structure was— built of poles or
saplings rather than logs—and greatly as she
was surprised to find it there in the heart of
the forest, it at least indicated the presence of
human beings, and she wondered if it was in-
habited.

Yes, there was a thin smoke that seemed to
come out at a hole in the roof.

Would it be safe for her to stop there and
apply for assistance? Outlaws went in gangs,
and they would not be likely to inhabit such a
hut. All men were not’John Burkes, and why
should she expect to be ill-treated?

As these thoughts were passing through her
mind, a man stepped out of the house and saw
her.

This man was clothed in a strange mixture
of rags and skins. He did not seem to be an .
old man; yet his hatless head was quite gray.
His face was haggard, and there was a wild
look in his eyes that made the girl shudder.

But he bowed profoundly before he stepped
toward her, and he spoke mildly and pleas-
antly.

“There is nothing to be afraid of, young
lady,” he said—“ nothing to be afraid of here.
I am the king of this range, and am always
glad to welcome my subjects. No doubt you '
have heard of me— King Harry the First.
Will you walk into my palace?”

-. She hesitated and stepped back a little.

“There is nothing to be afraid of,” he said,
again. “ I am known to be kind and merciful.
I will treat you like a queen, and will' send you
on your way rejoicing.”

The girl perceived that she had a lunatic to
deal with, and could only hope that he was a
harmless one. »

 

 


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The Roving Sport.‘

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As it would be best to humor him, she fol-
lowed him into his but. -

It was cominrtless enough inside; but over
an open fire was an iron pot, in which was a
stew which sent forth such appetizing odors
that she was quite overcome. She fairly longed
for a taste of that stew.

She smiled as she held out her hand to him,
and he touched it with an air of great conde-
scensron.

“Before I ask you to report to me,” he said,
“you must berefreshed with food.”

There was a section of a large tree in the
middle of the earthen ‘ floor, which evidently
served him as a table. 011 this he placed two
wooden platters, two tin cups of water and
some knives and forks. Then he lifted the pot
from the fire and set it on the floor, requesting
his guest to help herself.

She did so, and was glad to perceive that the
tas .e of the stew did not belie its pleasant odor.
It was very good, and she said so, and ate
heartily, both of which compliments tended to
increase his good—humor.

W hen they had finished their meal he pleas-
anti y informed her that he was ready to hear
what she had to'say.

Belle thought it would be best to tell him her
story, and she told it as briefly as possible,
beginning with her abduction from Chucka-

' luck.

He listened to it as if he scarcely understood
it, or as if he were making some fanciful pic-
ture of it in his own mind. Yet he listened to
it attentively and with an air of interest, and
occasionally made a remark which showed that
there were points which did not pass his com-
prehension. '

She spoke of Burke generally as “a man;”
but toward the close of her narrative she men-
tioned his name. .,

Then the change in the demeanor of the soli-
tary was sudden and startling.

He jumped up from his seat, and his face was
fiery red, and his eyes shot forth fierce gleams
of anger, and his entire manner was that of a
dangerous lunatic.

“ What is the matter!” demanded Belle, as

‘ she shrunk from him.

“That name i”. he exclaimed. “It is the
name of a fiend. I know him well. It was
he who murdered me—who slew his lawful
king—and he shall hang for that crime yet.
Don’t be alarmed, my dear young lady,” he
continued, as he resumed his seat on the block.
“He is not here, and there is nothing to be
afraid of. Go on, and tell me how you came
here.”

The girl soon finished her story, taking care
not to mention John Burke by name again, and
at the close shebegged the solitary to give her
the direction of a road that would lead her to
Chuckaluck.

“ I will gladly do that,” he replied, speaking
more rationally than he had yet spoken. “But
it is getting late in the day. If you should
Start now: night would overtake you before
you could set far, and you would get lost in
the woods. That would be bad. You are worn
011‘, ‘00, and need rest. You had better stay
here» Whef‘e You are quite safe, until morning,
when I Will take you to the road. You shall
be treated like a queen,” he added reverting
to his usnal manner. ’

Belle siffered herself to be persuaded. She
was indeed very weary, and the solitary pre-
pared for her a couch, on which she laid down
and soon forgot her troubles in sleep. ’

She slept soundly through the night and be.
fore daybreak the solitary gave her something
to drink. Again she slept and was visited b
a frightful dream. She dreamed that Burke
had surprised and captured her again. she
had striven in vain to escape from him, and he
was about to carry her away, when she awoke.

The solitary was seated in a corner nod-
ding» ‘

She qlfiPtly arose, opened the rude door, and
was stepping out to see how near the day was
done. when she found herself face to face with
John Burke! . '

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CHAPTER XVI.
JOHN BURKE’S FLIGHT.

THE men on the floor of the log house on the
ledge slept long and soundly.

Moll sat and watched them, but every now
and then stepped out to look around. At last
she saw three men approaching the ledge, and
knew that they were those who had gone hunt-
mg.

She went back, stretched herself out on the
floor, and was apparently lost in a deep slum-
her.

When the three men entered the house they
were naturally surprised at the sight they saw.

“ What’s the matter with these galootsi” d9-
manded one of them. “ Ain’t that Jack Burke
lying over there? Well, he is a sight for sore
eyes, anyhow. 'But what’s the matter with the
boys?”

“They must be drunk,” suggested another.

“If they are, it is the drunkenest drunk I
ever saw or heard of. Let’s shake them up.”

The new-comers shook the sleepers violently,
and touzled them severely, but had poor suc-
cess in arousing them until they came to
Burke, who started up and rubbed his eyes.

“ What’s the matter?” he asked with a dazed
look at his companions on the floor.

“That’s what we want to know,” answered
one of the others. “We found you all dead
asleep on the floor. Were you drunk?”

John Burke revived quickly.
around. but saw nothing of Belle, and this,
more than anything else, brought his senses
back to him.

“ No drunk about it,” he declared. “I would
be glad to know what was the matter. I was
drowsy and laid down, leaving these men to
watch things. Stir them up, boys, and make
them talk.”

The other sleepers were finally aroused suffi-
ciently to say that they had fallen asleep be-
cause they were unable to keep awake, and the
last one to yield had left Moll to “watch
things.”

The woman was then “stirred up,” but it .

was more diflicultto awaken her than any of
the others, and when she was aroused it was a
long time before she could be made to compre-
hend the situation.

“I reckon I can guess what the matter is,”
said she. “ I let that gal watch the coffee

‘while it was b’ilin’, and when nobody was

lookin’ she must ha’ put in some stuff that made
us sleep.”

“ But you drank none of the coffee,” insisted
Burke.

“I did, though. When you men had laid
down I helped myself to plenty.”

“ Was the girl here when you fell asleep?”

“That’s more’n I know. Reckon I dropped
off onbeknownst to myself. But she was here
when I was drinkin’ the coffee.”

John Burke was fearfully angry, but he
could fasten no suspicion on Moll or any other
person, and there Was nothing for him to do
but to bottle up his wrath and prepare to pur-
sue the fugitive.

She had a pretty long start, but the chances
were that she would get lost in the wilderness,
and that a speedy and diligent search would
result in her recapture. He enlisted in this
enterprise the members of the gang who were
present, promising to reward them well if he
should regain his captive.

As the day was then near its close, he
stepped out to consider whether it would be
best to make an immediate start, and was met
by three more members of the gang, who were
out of breath with their hasty climbing up the
rid e.

Ewe had held up a stage at Deadman’s
Gap,» said their leader, “and were jest on the
paint of 80,“: through the pilgrims, when a
crowd of cusses from Cbu‘flmmck way {Ode in
and bounced us. We scattered without stop‘.
pin. to shake hands; but I reckon they got
Greeny Dave, as we hain’t seen nothin’ of him
sence.” '

The comrades '01 the stage robbers gathered
around them, and pressed for details, and the

i .' ,r .;‘;__.

He looked I

 

story was hardly finished when a large body '
of horsemen was discovered on the opposite
slo .

fihn Burke at once guessed that it was more
than likely that they had come for him, and
he assured the gang that he was determined
not to be taken alive.

He had formerly been their leader, and their
loyalty had revived at the sight of him.

They declared their intention of defending
him, and had no hesitation in doing so, as they“
were convinced that their position was im-
pregnable. ‘

But this development of course put a stop to
the pursuit of Belle Bush, and it would be
necessary to shake ofl the Chuckaluck people
before a start could be made in that direction.

During the night and the early hours of the
next morning the outlaws laughed at their
foes, and had no doubt of their ability to
“hold the fort."

The attack from the top of the blag 'was to
them an unexpected feature of the affair; yet,
when it occurred, they all wondered why they
had not thought of it before. I'

They ran away from the falling rocks, and
sought shelter from the flying bullets; but they
were beginning to fall before the fire from
above and below, and the question of surrender
was seriously considered.

When it had been decided that they must
surrender, John Burke was informed of thd
conclusion to which they had come.

“ All right, boys,” he replied. “ I can
stand it if you can. Give me ten minutes’
time, and I will look out for myself.”

The southern side of the ledge, where it
joined the bluff, was very steep. In fact, it
was an overhanging wall of rock. On account
of its supposed inaccessibility, the assailant!»
had paid little attention to that point.

There John Burke made a rope fast, reach.
ing nearly to the rock below. ‘

When the surrender was made, and the
Chuckaluck men hastened to mount the ledge,
that side was left entirely unguarded.

Then he slipped down the rope, landed on.

the rock, and ran down the valley at the top
of his speed.

He soon discovered that he was pursued;
but he had expected pursuit, and did not fear
it. He was a strong man and a good runner,
and belieVed that he could easily get out of
the way of his pursuers in the wilderness, it
he should not be able to distance them.

,So he ran straight along, throwing out his
chest and saving his wind.

He made the same mistake that Belle had
made. He hastily turned to the left 'at the
same splintered tree, encountered the same
deep ravine, and went to the southward to pass.
around it, just as she had done.

Just as she had done he came to the lone
cabin, and halted to consider whether he ought
to stop there and get directions.

Finally he approached it stealthily, and tried
tolook in; but the saplings of which it was
built were well chinked and daubed, and he
could find no spy-hole: ,

He stepped to the door, and while he hesi-
tated it was opened.

Before him stood Belle Bushl.

She screamed, and stepped back,
the door in his face. .
He was astonished, but none the less deter-

mined and quick in his movements.

His anger at her escape. and, his desireto
possess her as his own, flamed up in his face,
and he was full of passionate fury.

With a push of his foot he forced the frail
door from its hinges, and entered the cabin.

Belle had shrunk into a corner, and in her
place was a man with a haggard  and wild
eyes, who confronted him with passion and
fury equal to his own. 7

“ Is it you, Jack Burke?” exclaimed the soli- ’
tary. “ At last you have come to me. I have
been waiting for you a long time.”

“Who are you?” demanded Burke, staring I

at this strange creature.
“ Don’t you know me? Have you forgotten

' \ ,
shutting

r~'

\.

 

 

14

me so soon? I was Harry Brough, the man
you murdered because he rersed to join your
rascally gang. Now I am King Harry the
First, and you are doomed to die 1”

The solitary sprung upon his foe, clutching
him by the throat, and Burke, strong as he was,
found himself unable to shake him off.

1 His pistol had been taken by Belle, and he
had no weapon but a knife in a sheath at his
belt.
I In the struggle that followed both men fell
on the earthen floor of the cabin, Burke on
top. ‘

He, drew his knife, and plunged the sharp

blade into the breast of the man beneath him.

 

CHAPTER XVII.
LAST APPEARANCE or THE GHOST.

As soon as the solitary grappled with John
Burke, Belle Bush ran out of the cabin.

She might have used Burke’s pistol effective-
1y, so as to end the conflict in favor of the
lunatic, but was so frightened that the thought
did not occur to her.

As she stood outside, thinking only of flight,
and doubting what direction she should take,
She was startled by the sound of horses’ feet.

The next moment several horsemen came
bursting through the timber, and the foremost
of them was Kit Kenyon!

She spoke his name with a joyful cry, and
he sprung from his horse to her side.

‘ “You here?” he exclaimed. “‘ This is a
blessing I had not dared to hope for. We were
chasing John Burke.”

“He is in there,” hastily replied Belle, point-
ing to the cabin. ,“ He has grappled with a
poor lunatic, and‘I am afraid he will kill him.
Be'quick, Kit, for God‘s sake!”

Kenyon ran into the cabin with Jake Nemo
and'the men who had followed them.

, iThe solitary was lying on the earthen floor,
and his antagonist was bending over him,
vainly striving to force himself from the "grip
which the dying man had fastened upon him.

' John Burke was easily made prisoner, and
was securely hound. Then Belle was invited
to step in and look at her persecutor.

"‘You are a smart one,” was all that Burke
said when he looked at the girl who had un-

,w'illingly brought him to his fate.

1 Jake Nemo, greatly to his surprise, thought
that he recognized in the dead solitary the face
of his brother, who had been killed by Burke,
as he believed, long ago, and Belle confirmed
him in this recognition by repeating what the
solitary had told her. '

Shots were fired, and men were sent out, to
recall the missing ones of the Chuckaluck party.
In the chase of Burke he had been seen to leave
the brook at the shattered tree, and his pur-
suers were scattered to cover all the ground.

While they were being brought together a

.messenger was sent on to Chuckaluck to inform

. g , the people there of the result of the expeditiOn,

and to tell them that John Burke would be
taken for trial to the looali'ty of Charley Man-
son’s grave, this being a suggestion of Bella’s
to Kenyon. o '

By the time the missing men came in a
grave had been dug and the solitary, wrapped
in his blankets, was laid to rest.

Then the Chuckaluck party set out, pushing

‘their horses so as to get through the forest
while daylight lasted.

It was night when they reached Charley
Manson’s grave; but many people from Chuck-
aluck were already awaiting them there, and
Others ‘were constantly arriving. Bythe time
they were ready to begin the trial there was a
large concourse on the spot.

The preparations for Burke’s trial were
simple and speedin made.

Twelve good and reliable men were Selected

.to act as a jury, and Tom Dimon, one of
the most solid men of Chuckaluck, was chOSEn

, incite

' There Was no prosecutor, and’tbe prisoner
did not need any person to present his de-
“fense. / ' ' '

i I Nor were there any witnesses—at least none.

\

 

,I" .'

~ The: 

I

who were sworn as such. The facts concern- l men had hold of it,-waiting the word to “run

ing John Burke’s former and recent career
were so notorious that sworn testimony was
considered unnecessary.

It was a strange and impressive scene where
that crowd was gathered, at the side of the

 

him up.”

Just then the men who stood near Charley
Manson’s grave moved aside, and a startling
vision burst upon the view-of the doomed
prisoner, whose last glance rested on the ap-

road, under the leafy trees, and near the l parition that had so often shaken his nerves—

grave of one of Burke’s victims. The night
was dark; but a fire had been built to give
light, and dry twigs and brushwood were 'oc-
casionally thrown upon it. It blazed up and
crackled, casting lurid gleams upon the sur-
rOunding‘ crowd, and lending to the occasion a
solemnity which it might not otherwise have
had.

The prisoner stood up, and defiantly faced
his accusers and judges.

He was as calm and collected as he had
usually been known to be, and only the pale-
ness of his face showed that he appreciated the
danger of his position. Whatever might be
said of the man’s faults or crimes, he had never
been called a coward, and in the face of that
crowd he was not likely to show the white
feather. -

Belle Bush was the first'to step forward.
With flashing eyes and outstretched arm she
stood there, and pointed at the stalwart pris-
oner. I

“ I accuse that man,” she said, “ of the will
ful and cold-blooded murder of Charles Manson,
who has in that grave.”

John Burke sneered. ‘

“ I was cleared of that, months ago,” said
he. ,

Jake Nemo then stepped forward, and his
withered face shone in the firelight as he de‘
nounced ' the man whose track he had so long
kept in sight.

“ I accuse Jack Burke,” he said, “of the
willful murder of Harry Brough. He thought
he had killed him years ago; but to-day he
found him alive, and finished his bloody
work.”

“The man was crazy,” coldly replied Burke.
“He attacked me,- and I killed him in self-
defense.”

Kit Kenyon then stepped forward. and his
clear, ringing voice might have! been heard far
beyond the limits of the crowd.

“I accuse John Burke,” he said, “ of having
carried away by force, and with a devilish
purpose, Belle Bush, the Pride of Chucka-
luck 2”

This was the charge that told. It fairly
“ brought down the house.” The crowd roared
and yelled and howled, and impatiently ordered
the jury to attend to its duty.

There could be no doubt then of Bella’s pop-
ularity in Chuckaluck, or d the intense detes-
tation that her abductor had aroused by his
outrageous act. .

The jury was not slack in responding to the
public demand. and a Verdict that fitted it was
quickly rendered.

“Guilty!” '

A general yell of approbation greeted the
word, and the crowd made a rush toward the
prisoner.

“ Hold on l” shouted Kenyon. “ Give the
man fiveminutes. Let him speak for himself
if he wants to.”

The Chuckaluck people fell back a little, and
John Burke regarded them with a look of calm
derision. ’

“Nothing that I could say,”'he remarked,
“ would move a crowd that is so ready to obey
the orders of one man. I suppose you are
obeying his orders, when you want to string
me up. He has robbed me of my money, and
now he wants my life.”

“That is a lie!” interrupted Kit.

“ It is easy to insult me now. If you are
bent 'on this‘ thing, I suppose you will do it;
but you are making a great fuss about a girl
who is no better than she ought to be.” v

 There was no restraining the crowd this

time. The prisoner was roughly seized, his
logs were pinioned, a noose was tightened
around his neck, the-end was thrown over a.
branch of a tree above him, and fully a dozen

l
i
l

 

the same vivid figure of a young man, with
the same blotch or blood on his breast, and the
same deathlike face, shining with the same
ghostly light.

He shrieked, and closed his eyes to shut Out
the horrible sight.

The men at the rope ran away with it, and
John Burke was suspended in the air.

The rope was made fast to a neighboring
tree, and the crowd dispersed, leaving him
hanging there, but not before as many as fifty
bullets had been fired into his lifeless form.

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
EXPLANATIONS.

THE death of John Burke caused a great
sensation in Chuckaluck, only second to that
which he had produced by the abduction of
Belle Bush. -

He had for so long a time been a popular, it
not a respected citizen of the town, that he was
one of the last men who might have been ex—
pected to perish at the hands of the lynchers.

-But his exacution was generally justified. as
having been nothing more than he deserved.
His murders and other crimes might have been
forgivsn, or at least overlooked; but his out.
rageous audacity in forcibly carrying away
the Pride of Chuckaluck had called for the
severest punishment.

It was even proposed, as the crowd returned
to town, to visit the same penalty upon his
Confident, who was also regarded as his ac.
complice; but Sam Byles had already con-
sulted his own safety, and had. promptly
“skipped the camp.”

It is sad to be obliged to record the fact
that after Chuckaluck had so unanimously
proved its devotion to the mistress of The
Chromo, going so far as to sacrifice one of
its lately prominent citizens in her cause, it
was soon to be deprived of the blessing of her
presence.

But this was the lamentable truth. She

opened her establishment as usual the day af-‘
ter the hanging, but seemed to take little in.
terest in the sales or her customers, and in
plain view behind the counter was a placard
announcing that The Chromo and its contents
were for sale.
. In response to numerous inquiries the con-
firmed the announcement, saying that she had
received news whichdobligedmher to return to
the East whence she had come.‘ Moreover, she
had sustained a shock which had affected
her health, and would be obliged in any event
‘to seek a change of air.

Many offers, matrimonial and otherwise,
were made to induce her to remain; but her
intention was fixed, and nothing could be said ,
or done to change it. ,

Then there was grief in Chuckaluck. and the
inhabitants Went about with long faces, con-
doling with each other, but finding no comfort.

The bad reports of the Chuckaluck Mine,
and the signs of “petering out ” which the
camp already showed, Were nothing compared
to this distressing intelligence, and disconsolate
men began to say that they might as well emi-
grate.

The evening of the day on which her inten-
tion was made public found Kit Kenyrn cosily
seated in the rear room of 'l he Chromo, and
his only companion was Belle-

She was radiant With Smiles. as if pleased
with the idea of getting away from Chuckaluck,
and the state of his mind may lo described as
uncertain.

“So you were the ghost?” he remarked.

“Yes. Everybody knows that now, and I
would have let you know it sooner, if .I had
not been afraid that you would\ bother me.”

“ Why‘did you go into that business?”

“You might guess the reason. I am Belle

.0

l

 

 

s .

 

 

 

r» ..-~.r' =~ now-w. a-»«..

  vIn’    

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 , 15

 

 

Manson, the sister of the poor boy who lies
in that grave out yonder. When his friend
reported his math to me, and the manner of it,
I vowed that justice should overtake his mur-
derer; and that Vow has been fulfilled, though
not exactly as I intended.”

“ How did you manage to get yourself up in
' such a ghostly style!”

“ If you had noticed me last night you would
have seen the trick of it. I brought here a suit
which I had made at the East, exactly like that
which my brother were when he was murdered,
and I had my own way of usng it. With a
little red wool and plenty of phosphorus it
would deceive anybody in the night and at a
proper distanco. I also made a hole through
the side of my house and into the murderer’s
room, and caused the apparition to visit him
there at night with the aid of a. :1li magic
lantern.” V

“It worried him fearfully—no doubt of that.
But there was one time, Belle, when you Were
not playing the game, as you yourselt saw the
ghOst.”

"That was when it appeared in the hollow
at the side of the road. Mr. Nemo took my
place then, and played the part well, as he
could easily do at that distance. “Then I came
out here I determined to hunt John Burke
down. I engaged him to help me in the task,
and he willingly did so, as he had a grievance
of his own. He believed, as I did, that hang-
ing was the only death that would give the
murderer his deserts.”

“But how did you manage it last night?
You surely didn’t take the ghost’s fixings with
you when you were carried away from Chuck-
aluck?” _ ~

“You helped me in that, Kit. When you
sent a. messenger to Chuckaluck I told him to
ask W0 Sing for a square bundle that the China-
man knew about, and it was brought to me.
That bundle contained my ghostly wardrobe.”

" Well, it is simple enough when it comes to
be known. So you are going to leave Chucks.-
luck, Belle?" 1

:I Yes. )I .

“ As I followed you here, I suppose I can fol-
low you elsewhere.” '

“I suppose you can, if you try.”

“You may be sure that I will try. Don’t
you know that I love you with my whole
heart!”

“ I believeyou do care for me, Kit.”

“ And do you not care for me a little?”

“I don’t know but I do,” she replied, with a
blush. , -

“ Oh, Belle, ‘it‘you would marry me, I would
be the happiest man in the‘ world. Is there
any chance for me?” ' ' ‘

“Perhaps there might be, Kit, it you would
agree to my terms.”

. “You have only to tell me what they are.”

“Simply that you should quit your roving
life and Settle down.”

“That is easy enough. I will gladly settle
down—with you. I will take the money I
won here, if you say so, and buy a cattle-
farm. I am sure I can manage that success-
fully.” .

When Belle Bush left Chuckaluck, Kit Ken—
you went- in the same stage.

THE END.

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76 Tm: QL'EEN’S MUSKE’I‘EL'R. B Geo. Albony... 1
7‘ TIM: FRESH or FRIsL-O. By. lhert W. Aiken. 100
78 THE Mrs-Tumors SPY. B ' A. M. Graiugér. . .. 100
7!) JOE PIIENIN. By Albert . Aiken . . . . .  10c
A MAN or NERVE. By Philip S. Warne. .. . .. 10c
THE HI'IIAN TIGER. B Albert W. Aiken. 10c
IRON WiiisT. By Col. homas II. Monstery.. 10c
GOLD BULLET SPORT. By Buffalo Bill ..  10c
HIINTED DOWN. By Albert W. Aiken   10c
85 THE CRETAN RovER. By Col. P. Ingrahmn  10c
86 THE BIG HUNTER. Authorof “Silent Hunter." 10c
87 Tm: SCARLET CAPTAIN. B ' Col. Delle Sara. .. 10c

3395929593

88 BIG GEORGII. By JOSP )h . Bad er, Jl‘..  100
811 Tim: PIRATE PRINCE. ,y (Sol. 1’. ngraham.... 100
90 WILD WILL. By Buckskin Sam . . . . . . . . . . .. 100

91 T111: WINNING OAR. By Albert W. Aiken. '... 10C
9?. Ili‘lv‘FALO BILL. By Major Dangerfield Burr .. 10C
143 (.‘M’TMN DICK TALBOT. By Albert W. Aiken. 100
m FREeLANCE. THE BUCCANEER. By In rrahanr. 10c
95 AznoRT. THE AXMAN. ' By Antlion .Morrls. 10c
1m DOUBLE DEATH. By Capt. Fred. Widttaker. .. 100
9'.” BRONZE JACK. By Albert W. Aiken .. 
{N THE ROCK RIDER. By Capt. F. Whittaker.. .
911 THE GIANT RIFLEMAN. By 011 Cooincs ,. .. 10c
100 THE FRENCH Spy. '8 A. P. Morris . . . . . . . .. 10c
101 Tan: MAN FROM NEW ORK. By A. W. Aiken. 10c
10‘: THE MASK ED BAND. By George L. Aiken .. 10c
10:5 MERLE, Tan: MUTINEER. Col. P. Ingraham.. 10c
104 MONTEZUMA, TRE MERCILEss. By Inurahum. ICC
105 DAN BROWN or DENVER. B Joe. E. Badger.. 10c
106 SHAMUS O‘BRIEN.‘ By Col. elle ra .  10c
10? RICHARD TALBOT or CINNAIIAR. v ‘Alkcn. . 10c
108 THE DUKE or DIAMONDS. By FredAVhittaker.‘ 10c
109 CAPTAIN KYD. By Col. Prentiss Ingrahani . 10c
110 Tm: SILENT RIrLEMAN.  W. Ierbert . 10c
111 Tan SNUGOLER CAPTAIN. y Ned untline.. 10c
112 JOE PRENIx, PRIVATE DETECIIVE. By Aiken. 10c
113 Tm: SEA SLIPPER. By Prof. J. H. Imrraliam. 10c
111 'l‘IIE UBNTLEMAN FROM PIKE. By P. S. Warne 10c
115 THE SEVERE-D HEAD. By Capt. F.Whittaker. 10c
1113 BLACK PLUME. TIIE DEVIL orTIIESEA. By Col.
P.1ngraham ..  .  .. ..
117 DAsnING DANDY. By Major Dangerfield Burr. 10c
118 THE BUHULAR CAPTAIN. By J. Klugrahani. 10C
119 ALABAMA JOE. By Joseph E. Bad er, Jr.... 10c
1'30 Tim TEXAN SPY. By Newton M. urtis. . 100
1:21 THE SEA CADET. Br Col. Prentiss Iiigrnham. 100
122 SAUL SABBICRDAY. By Nod Biintline .
123 ALAPAIIA. THE SQUAW. By Francis Johnson. QC
121 ASSOWAUM, THE AVENGER. Francis Johnson. 10c
1:25 THE BLACKSMITB OU'rLAw._ By H. Ainsworth. 10c
126 TREDEIION DUELIST. By 001. T. H. Monstiery. 100
127' SOL SCOTT, TEE MASKED MINER. By Badger. 100
128 THE CHEVALIER CORSAIR. Bythe author of
“Merle. the Jintluwr," . .  .. 1
129 MINSISSIPI'I Most. By Edward Willett . . . . .. 100
130 CAPTAIN VOLCANO. By Allwrt W. Aiken. . . .. '1iic
131 BUCKSKIN SAM. By CI 11. PreiitisS Ingrahaim .. 10c
132 NEMO, KING OF TIIE TRAMPS. By Capt. Fred.
Whittaker . . . . . . .. . ..   .. 10c
133 RODI', TIIE ROVER. By William Carleton... 10c
13-1 DARKIE DAN. By Col. Prentiss Ingi‘ahani... 100
135 THE Busn RANGER. By Francis Johnson. .. 10C
1365 Tan OUTLAW-HUNTER. By Francis Johnson. 100
137 LONG BEARD, THE GIANT SPY. By 011 Coomes. 10c
1:18 THE BORDER BANDITs. By Francis Johnson. 10c
139 FIRE-EYE, THE SEA HYENA. Ban rahanr 10c
140 Tm: Tamar: SPANIARus. By George .alkerz. 10c
14] EQUINOX TOM. By Josep E. Ba gar. Jr.... 100

‘ 112 CAPTAIN CRIMSON.  Me oann erfleld Burr 10c
y 100

143 THE 'CZAR’s SPY. .Thos. H. pnstery.1..
144 HUNOIIIIACK or NO’i‘er-DAME. 7 CD01? 'H'ugo.. 10c
145 PISTOL PARDs. By “In: R. Eyister  .. 10c

J. it. Badger, Jr.. 10c.

.196 LA MAimosET.

 

14“ Tim Doc'roa DETECTIVE. By George Lemuel 10c
147 GOLD SPUR. By Col. Prentiss lngrahnm. .. 100
148 ONE-ARMED Air. By Oll COOines I 1
119 Tim BORDER RIFLES. B ' Gustave Airhead. No
150 EL RuaIO BRAVO, THE '0 or THE SWORD-
MEN. By Col. Thomas HoverMonstery. . . 10c
151 Tim FREEBUOTERS. BY Gustave Alumni. . 10c
15:: CAPTAIN IRONNERVE. BI: Marmaduke Dey . 100
153 Tm: Wnrrr. SCALPDR. y Gustave Ainiard. 10c
151 JOAQIIIN,'I'IIE SADDLE KING. By J. E. Badger. 100
155 Tin; CORSAIR QUEEN. 13y Col. P. Ingriiham. 0c
1156 VI-tLVET FACE. By Major Dangerfield Burr. 100
157 MOURAII Tin: MAMELCKB. By (‘01. Thomas
lloyar lilonstery . . . . .. .. . . . . .. .. 10c
158 THE DOOMED DozEN. By Dr. Frank Powvll... 100
159 Rich Rl'DlGER. By Ca t. Frod‘k Whittaker; 100
160 SOI‘T HAND, SRAIIP. y William B. Eystcr.. ICC
161 Tim WOLVES OF NEW YORK. B .W. Aiken. 100
162 THE MAD MARINER. By CO]. . ngrahain.. 100
163 BEN BRION, 'nIE ’l‘nAPPER CAI’TAIN' or, RED-
PATII TIII: AVENGER. B .Dr.J. H.1ioblnson. 100
101 THE ’KING's FOOL. By . D. Clark  100
165 JOAQUIN, TIIE TERRIBLE. By Joe. E. Badger. 100
166 Owner, '1‘le ROBBED PRINCE. Septimus
R.Urbau   
1151‘ Tim MAN or STEEL. B A. P. Morris.....  100
168 WILD BILL. THE Pme EAD SHOT. By 001;
PrentissIn raham...    .  100
169 CORPORAL ANNON. By Col. Monstery.  100
170 SWEET WILLIAM. By Jos. E. Badger Jr  100
1:1 TIGER DICK, TIIE MAN or TEE IRON BEAM.
ByPlIilipS.\VaI'Iie..  ..   100
’“ By Col. In‘graham..... 100
AlbertW. Aiken . . . . .. 00

ii? 'I‘IIE BLACK PIRATE.
17:1 CALIFORNIA JOHN. B 1
174 PHANTOM KNIGHTS. y Capt. F. Whittaker.. 100
175 WILD BILL’s TRUMP CARI). By Minor Burr. 100
7r- LADY JAGUAR. By Capt. MaIkWilton... .' 100
177 DON DIAIILo.' By Col. Prentiss Ingraham... 100
178 DARK DAstoon. By Major S. S._Hall. ,. . 1
179 CONRAD, '11!!!) (Owner Prof. S. Gildersleeve. 100
180 OLD '49. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr . . . , . . . . .. 100
181 THE SCARLET SCHOONER. By Col. Ingraham. 100
182 HANDS UP. B Wm. B. Eyster... 
18's GILBERT, TIIE UIDE.  1‘. Dunning Clark, 100
181 Tim OCEAN VAMPIRE. y Col. P. Ingraham. 100
185 MAN SPIDER. By A. P. Morris  ..  10¢
“ll-ill THE BLACK BRAVO. By Buckskin Sam . . . . .. 100
187 Tim DEATH‘s-HEAD CIIIIIAssIIIIis. Whittaker. 100
188 PHANTOM MAZEPPA. Major Dangeifleld Burr. 100
189 WILD BILL‘s GOLD TRAIL. By P. In 'raham. 100
190 THE THREE GUARDSMEN. By Alex. ,)umns.. 100
191 TIIE'I‘ERRIDLE TONKAWAY. By Buckskin Sam. 100-
19;! 'I‘IIE LIGIITNING SPORT. By Wm. B. EySter. 100
193 THE MAN IN RED. B Capt. F. Whittaker. 100
19-1 DON SOMBRERO. By Laptain Mark Wilton . 100
195 THE LONE STAR CAMBLER. B Buckskin Sam. 10c
' Albert .Aiken. . . . . . .. 106
1117 REVOLVER ROB. y Joseph E. Badger, Jr... 100
195' Tim SKELETON SCROONER. P. Ingraham. 100
190 DIAMOND DICK. By Buckskin Sam. .. . 100
200 TIIE RIFLE RANonns. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 100
9201 Tan PIRATE or TEE PLACERs. Badger. 100
202 CAO'I'UB JACK. By Captain Mark _  100
903 Tax DOUBLE DETECTIVE. By A. W. Aiken. 10C
204 BIG FOOT WALLACE. 8% BuckskinSam  ‘10
:1.) Tim G'AMBTJ-JR i IRATE. y Col. P.1ngraham. 100
21‘» ONE EYE, THE CANNONEER. Wliitinkei . ICC
no? 0m HARD HEAD. BysPhilipS. Warne. .  100
20% 'I‘Iin WHITE CHIEF. y Capt. Mayne Reld.. 100
2110 Been FARLEY. By Edward Willett . . . . . .  00
tin BrccANI-ER BESS. ByPrentiss Ingraham... 100
211 ’l‘I-vn UNKNOWN SPORT. By Ca t. Whittaker. 100
212(1)“: Bitxzos 'i‘IoEas. Bv Buc skin Sam. ..
at”. "'1": \"Al? ‘1“ .‘11. BI Certain Mayne Reid.
214 Tan Two COOL SPORTS. m. R. yster. 100
215 PABSON JIM. By Captain d. Whittaker. 100
216 THE CORsAIR PLANTER. By Col. raham. 100
217 sTanE SERPENT or EL PAso. By uckskin 1
In  .. . . . . .. . 
218 Tim WILD HUNTRESS. By (legit. Mayne Reid. 100
219 THE SCORPION BROTHERS.  Capt. Wilton. 100
5220 Tan SPECTER YACHT. By LO . P. graham. 100
2:21 DEsPERATE DUKE. By Buckskin   loo
22:2 BILL, THE Bmwnn. By_Edward Willett. .. .100
223 CANYON DAVE. By Ca tmn MarkWilton.... 100
224 BLACK BEARD. By Co FrentissIn raham.. 100
22.") ROCKY MOUNTAIN AL. By Bucksk 11 Sam... 100
226 MAD HussARs. By Captain Fred. Whittaker. 100
2"” BIICKsnOT BEN. Bv ‘aptain Mark W ten. 18:
223 TIIE MAROON. By Capt. Mayne Reid...  1
2‘29 CAPTAIN CIIT.LEEvE. By William R. Eyster. 100
2'10 'l‘nn FLYING DU'l‘CBMAN or 1880. By Capt.
Frederick W'hitiiiker  . . L   10c
251 TIIE KID GLOVE MINER. By Col. In am. 100
232 OBSON Oxx THE MAN or IRON. yIsaac
Hawks, Ear-Detective .  ..  . 100
2:13 THE OLD BOY or TonDsTONE. 3123088911 13- ‘
Badger,er      ..
234 Tm; HL'NTliRS‘ FEAsT. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 100
“as lien LIOIITNING, THE MAN or CHANCE. By 1 -
C(iloni‘ll’l‘t‘lltlSS Ingraham.,.  .  .. 100
236 CIIAMPION SAM. By (‘01. Time. II. Monster 1130
2‘17 LONG-HAIRED MAX. B ' CaptuMark Wilton.. We
2:38 HANK HOUND. By A. .Mori'is. . 
‘3139 TnI-z’I‘ERnILLi-z TRIO. By Buckskin $3111.. . 190
240 A COOL HnAD. Iggy Isaac Hawks. ,mc.
3.

)4

a"?

I
a

211 SPITPIRE SAUL. JQS. E. Badger,  . . . 1

212 Tar. FOG Dawn by Capt. Fred, “'l'itlalmr 10c
243 THE PILGRIM SHARP. Ly Bufl‘nlo Bill . . . . . . . 100
24.1 MERCIIJcss MART. By LIIckskIn Sam. . . . . .. 10c
 BARRANI‘A LILL. Rafa )t. Mark Wilton 100
246 QUEEN HELEN. Bv . ’rentiss In Inhani. 100
247’ ALLIGATOR IKE. By ( ‘apt. Fred. \\ ittaker. 10c
248 MONTANA NAT. By Edward Willett. ‘ me

A new issue every week. .. u .

Beadle»; Dime Ltbrary is tor sale. 1: all
Newsdealers, ten cents per copy. or sent by In on
receipt of twelve cents each. EADLE & AIDAHS.’
Publishers, 98 William street, New York.

.os. f..

\

 

 

 

 

 

-—-—‘ BEADLE’S

HALF-DIME

 

 

LIBRARY. 1;—

 

 

 

] Deadwood Dick, TEE PRINCE or THE ROAD
By Edward L. Wheeler.

2 lellowstone Jack. B Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

3 Kansas King. B Bul alOBvill.

4 The Wild-Horse _ unters. By Captain
Mayne Reid and Captain Frederick Whittaker.

5 Vagabond Joe,'raE YOUNG WANDERING Jicw.
B 011 Coomes. Double Number 10cts.

8 1 ill Biddon ' ‘rapper . is E.  Ellis.

The Flying ankce. By Co . P. Ingraham.

Seth Jones . By Edward S. Ellis.

Adventures of Baron lilanchausen.

Nat Todd. By E. S. Ellis.

The Two Detectives. By A.W. Aiken.

G uiiiver’s Travels. B ' Dean Swift.

The Dumb S by. By 0 Coomes.

Aladdin; or, RE WONDERFUL LAMP.

The Sea-Cat. By Captain Fred. Whittaker.

Robinson Crusoe. (27 Illustrations.)

Ralph Roy. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

Sin bad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages.

The Phantom Spy. By Bufialo Bill.

0 The Double Daggers. By E. L. Wheeler.

1 The Frontier Angel. By Edward S. Ellis.

2 The Sea Ser ent. Bfi Juan Lewis.

‘ 3 Nick 0’ the ight. yT. C. Harbaugh.

‘ 4 Diamond Dirk. By Colonel P. Ingrahaui.

25 The Boy Captain. By Roger Starbuck.

26 (‘ioven loot”. By Edward L. Wheeler.

27 Antelope Abe, THE BOY GUIDE. 01] Coomes.

28 Buil'alo Ben. By Edward L. Wheeler.

29 The Dumb Page. B I Capt. F. Whittaker.

30 Roaring Ralph Boc \vood , TEE BECK-

LEss RANGER. By Harry St. George.

31 Keen-Knife. By Oil Coomes.

32 Bob \Vooli'. By Edward L. Wheeler.

33 The Ocean Bloodhound. S. W. Pierce.

34 Oregon Sol. By Capt. J. F. 0. Adams.

35 \Vild Ivan. By Edward L. Wheeler.

36 The Bo Cio_\vn . By Frank S. Finn.

37 The Hi den Lodge. By T. C. Harbaugh.

38 Ned \V ylde, THE BOY SCOUT. By Texas Jack.

39 Death-Face, THE DETECTIVE. By Wheeler.

40 Roving Ben. By J. J. Marshall.

41 Lasso Jack. By 011 Coomcs.

42 The Phantoln Bliner. By E. L. Wheeler.

43 Dick Darling. Bngapt. Fred. \Vhittaker.

44 Battling Ruhe . y } arry St. George.

Old Avalanche. By Edward L. Wheeler.

Glass Eye. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams.

Nightingale Nat . By T. C. Harhaugh.

Black John, TIIE ROAD-AGENT. By Badger.

Omaha Oll. By Edwnrd L. Wheeler.

Burt Bunker, THE TllAl’l’lill. C. E. Lasalle.

The Bo Rifles. By Archie C. irons.

The \Vh te Buil'alo. 5y C. E. Lasalle.

Jlnl Bludsoc, J r. B ‘ Edward L.Whe.clcr.

Ned Ilazel. By Capt.  l". C. Adams.

Dcadl '-E 'e. Ky Buffalo Bill.

Nick VII liies’ Pct. C11th. F. C. Adams.

Deadwood Dick's Eagles. lly Wheeler.

The Border King . By 011 (homes.

59 Old Hickory. By Harry St. George.

60 The \Vhite ndian. Capt. J. l". C. Adams.

61 Buckhorn Bill. By Edward L. Wheeler.

62 The Shadou' Ship . By Col. P. lngrnham.

63 The Red Brotherhood. \V. J. Hamilton.

64 Dand‘y Jack. By T. C. Harbangh.

65 Hurr cane Bill. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr

66 Single Hand. By \V. J. Hamilton.

67 Patent-leather Joe. By Philip S. Warne.

68 Border Robin Hood. By Buffalo Bill.

69 Gold thie. B Edward L. Wheeler.

70 Old Zip’s Cab II. By Capt. J. F. 0. Adams.

71 Delaware Dick. By 011 Comnes.

72 Mad Tom \Vcstern. By W. J. Hamilton.

73 Dead\vood Dick on Deck. By Wheeler.

4 Hawk-eye Harry. By 011 Coomes.

The Boy Duelist. By Col. P. Ingraham.

Abe Colt, TIIE CROW—KILLER. Lay A. W. Aiken.

Corduroy Charlie. By E. . Wheeler.

Blue Dick. By Captain Mayne Reid.

Sol Ginger, GIANT 'IRAPPPZR. By AW. Aiken.

Rosebud Rob. y Edward L. \Vheeler.

Lightning Jo. y Captain J. F. C. Adams.

Kit llaretoot. By T. C. Harhauzh.

Rollo, the Boy Ranger. By 011 Coomes.

ldyl the Girl NIincr. By E. L. Wheeler.

. Buck Buckram. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams.
Band Rock. By 1‘. Waldo Browne.

The and Pirates. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

88 Photogra )h Phil. B E. L.Wheeler.

89 lslaluf J m. By Brace rid re Hcmyng.

90 The Dread Rider. By G. l aldo Browne.

9] The Captain oi'the Club; or, THE YOUNG

RIVAL ATHLETES. By Bracebridze Hemyng.

92 Canada (‘hct. By Edward L. Wheeler.

93 The Roy Miners. By Edward S. Ellis.

94 Midnight Jack. By T. C. Ilarimugh.

95 The Rival Rovern. Lieut. Col. Ilazeltine.

96 \Vatch-Eye, THE SHADOW. By E. L. Wheeler.

97 The Outliuv Brothers. By J. J. Marshall.

98 Robin Hood. By Prof. Gildersleeve.

99 The Tiger of Taos. By G. Waldo Browne.
100 Dcadxvood Dick in Leadville; or. A
~ STRANGE STROKE FOR. LIBERTY. By Wheeler.
101 Jack llarkau'ay in NeW’ York. By

r- Bracebridge Hemyng,

102 Dick Dead-Eye. By Col. lugmham.

103 The Lion ot'the Sea. By Col. Delle Sara.

104 Deadu'ood Dick’s Device. By Wheeler.

105 Old Rube, TEE HUNTER. Capt. H. Holmes.
06 Old Frosty. THE GUIDE. By’l. C. Hm-baugh.

07 One-Eyed Sim. By James L. Bowen.

08 During Dav§i By Barry St. George.

09 Deadwood ick as Detective.

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By
Edward L. Wheeler.
0 The Black Steed of the Prairies. A
Thrillin Stag! Texan Adventure. By Bowen.
1 The ea- vil. By 001. P.1ngraham.
2 The Mad HuntquBy Burton e. .

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Jack Ho 10. By Edward L. Wheeler.
The Blac Schooner. Roger Starbuck.
The Mad Miner. By G. Waldo Browne.
The Hussar Ca tain. Col. 1‘. Ingraham.
Gilt-Edged Dic . By E. L. Wheeler.
‘Vill Somers. THE BOY DETECTIVE. Morris.
Mustang Sam. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
The Branded Hand. By Frank Dumont.
Cinnamon Chip. By Edward L. Wheeler.
Phil Hardy, TllE Boss BOY. By C. Morris.
Ki0\va Charley. By T. C. Harbaugh.
Tippy, THE TEXAN. By George Gleason.
Bonanza Bill, MINER. By Ed. L. Wheeler.
Pica 'une Pete. By Charles Morris.
Wii -Flre, Boss or THE ROAD. B ' Dumont.
The Young Privateer. By H. avendish.
Deadwood Dick’s Double. By Wheeler.
Detective Dick. By Charles Morris.
The Golden Hand. By Geo. W. Browne.
The Hunted Hunter. By Ed. S. Ellis.
Boss Rob. Bly Ed L. Wheeler.
Sure Shot Set . By 011 Coomes.
Captain Paul. By C. Dunning Clark.
Night-Hawk Kit. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
The Hei ileus Hand. Capt. Mayne Reid.
Blonde ill. By Edward L. Wheeler.

r

Judge Lynch, . B T. C. Harbaugh.
Blue Blazes. By Fran Dumont.

Solid Sam. 13? Edward L. Wheeler.
Handsome arrg. B Charles Morris.
Scar-Face Saul. OllyCoomes.
Dainty Lance, TEE Y SPORT. By Badger.
(‘apta n Ferret. By Edward L. Wheeler.
Silver Star, rm: BOY ' 'IGBT. By Coomes.
\Vili \Vildiire. By Charles Morris.
Sharp Sam. By J. AlexanderPatten.

A Game of Gold. By Ed. L. Wheeler.
Lance and Lasso. By (‘a t. F.Whittaker.
Panther Paul. B Jos. . Bad er, Jr.
Black Bean, WILL ILDrIRE‘s ACER; or.
WINNING AGAINST ODDS. By Charles Morris.
Eagle Kit, THE BOY DEMON. By 011 Conmes.
The Sword Hunters. B F. Whittaker.
Gold Trigger THE SPORT. . C. Harbaugh.
Deadwood Iiick oi' Deadwood; or,
THE PICKED PARTY. B ' Edward L. Wheeler.
Mike Merry. By (‘ arlcs Morris.

Fanc Frank oi Colorado. BuffaloBill.
The out Captain. By Whittaker.
The Black Giant. By J. E. Badger, Jr.
1 New! York Nell. By E. L. Wheeler.

2 “’ill \Wlldtire in the. \Voods. Morris.
3 Little Texas. By (HICOOmI-s.

4 Dandy Rock’s Pledge. By (LW. Browne.
'5 Billy Baggage. By Charles Morris.

6 Hickory Harry. By Harry St. George.
7 A sa Scott, TIIE STEAMHOAT BOY. By Willett.
8 Deadly Dash. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

9 Tornado Tom. B T. C. Harhaugh.

0 A Trum Card. y Charles Morris.

1 Ebony an. By Frank Dumont.

2 Thunderbolt Tom. By Harry St. George.
' DandyRock‘u Rival. By G.W. Brovme.
Bob Beckett, THE BOY DODGER. By Morris.
(‘aptain Arizona. By Philip S.Warne.

’ The, Boy Runaway. By Lieut. Perry.
7 Nobby Nick 01' Nevada. E. L. Wheeler.
8 Old Solitary. By 011 Coomes. _
9 Bob Rockett, THE BANK RVYNER. Moms.
0 The Sea Trailer. By Lieut. H. D. Perry.

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S l “'lld Frank. By Edward L. Wheeler.
82 Little Hurricane. By OllCoomes.

The Hidden Hand. By (has. Morris.

-. - 'The Roy Trailers. By Badger, Jr.
Evil Eye. By Frank Dumont.

' (‘ool casinond. By Col. Delle Sara.

‘ Fred llalyard. By Charles Morris.

Ned Temple, TEE BORDER BOY. Harhmigh.
Bob Roe ctt, TEE CRACKSMAN. By Moms.
Dand Darke.
. Bull'a 0 Billy. apt. Taylor, U. S. A.
Captain Kit. By Lieut. H. I).Pcny.U.S.N.
Captain Mask. By Philip S. W_arne.

Bu il'alo Bill’s Bet. By Captain Taylor.
Deadwood Dick’s Dream. By \\ heeler.
) Siladou'cd. By Charles Morris.

Little Grit, THE WILD RIDER. By Ingraham.
Arkansaw. By T. C. iiarbaugh.
Featherweight. By Edward Willett.
The Boy Bedouins. By Whittaker.
The Black-Inns Jezebel. By Wheeler.
Prospect Pete. By 01] CoomOF.

The Boy Pards. Bv Jos. E. Badger. Jr.
- Gold Plume, THE BOY BANDIT. Ingrahnm.
. Dead‘vood Dick’s Doom. By Vi heeler
Dark Paul, Tar. TIGER KING. By C. Morris
Navajo Nick. By T. C. Harhaugh.

The Boy Hercules. By 011 Coomes.
Fritz, TIIE BoUND-BOY DETEGI‘IVE. Wheeler.
Faro Frank of High Pine. By Eyster.
Crooked Cale. ByéJos. E. Badge-RJr.
Dashing Dave. y Charles Morris.

. Fritz to the Front. By E. L. Wheeler.
(Vol t‘gang Tm: ROEBER OF THE RHINE.
By Captain P rederick Whittaker.

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21 5 (‘aptain Bullet. By T. C: Harbaugh.

2 l 6 Bison Bill. By Col. Prentiss Ingrnham.

217 (‘aptain Crack-Shot. By E. L. Wheeler.

21 8 Tiger Tom. THE TEXAN TERROR. (homes.

219 Despard, the Duelist. By R's. Warne.

220 Tom Tanner. By Charles Morris.

22 1 Sugar Coated Sam. By E. L. Wheeler.

222 Grit, the Bravo Sport. Iiy Ingraham.

223 Ozark Alf, KING or TEE OUNTAIN. By
Edward Willett.

224 Dashing Dick. B Oil Coomes. -

225 Sam Charcoal. y Charles Moms.

226 Snoozer, THE BOY Smar. By E. LWheeler.

22-7 Dusky Darrell, TRAPPER. By E. Emerson.

228 Little WIIQQISL By 011 Coomes.

 

229 (‘rimuon Kate. By Col. P. Ingraham.

230 The Yankee Rajah. By C. D. Clark.

231 Plueky Phil. By '1‘. C. Harbaugh.

232 Gold-Dust Dick. By E. L. Wheeler.

233 Joe Buck, oi'Angels. By. A W. Aiken.

234 Old Rocky’s ‘ Boyeen.’ Buckskin Sam

235 Shadow Sum. B Charles Morris.

236 Apollo Bill. By dwardL.Wheeler.

237 Lone Star, the Cowboy Ca tain; or,
THE MYSTERIOUS RANCHERO. B . Ingraham.

238 The Parson Detective. 011 Coomes.

239 The Gold-seeker Guide: or, THE Los'r
MOUNTAIN. B Captain Mayne Reid.

240 Cyclone K t. By Edward L. Wheeler.
Bill Bravo and His Bear Pards.
B T. C. Harbaugh.

he Ttvo ‘ Bloods’. By Charles Morris.
243 The Dinguised Guide. B 011 Coomes.
Sierra Sam. By Edward L. eeler.
Merle, the Middy. By Col. P. Ingraham.
246 Giant George. By Buckskin Sam.
247 Old Grizzly and His Pet-s. By Captain

“ Bruin " Adams.

248 Sierra Sam’s Secret. B E. L. Wheeler.
49 Milo Bonner. By Capt. ‘red. Whittaker.
Midshipman Mutinecr. By Ingraham.
Light-house Lige. By J. F. C. Adams.
Dick Dashaway. By Chas, Morris.
Sierra Sam’s Pard. B E. L. Wheeler.
The Half Blood. By E ward S. Ellis.
Captain Apollo. B ' T. C. Harbau h.
Young Kentuck. y Capt. Mark won.
The Lost Hunters. By Capt. Adams.
Sierra Sam’s Seven. By E. L. Wheeler.
The Golden Harpoon. By R.Starbuck.
260 Dare-Devil Dan. By Oll Coomes.
Fergus Fearnaught. By Geo. L. Aiken.
262 The Young Sleuths. B Charles Morris.
263 Dead‘vood Dick’s Divi e. By‘Whee-ler.
264 The Floating Feather. By lngraham.
265 The Tiger Tamer. By Capt. Whittaker.
266 Killb’ar, the Guide. By Ensign Warren.
267 The Buckskin Detective. By T. C.
Harbaugh.
Deadwood Dick’s Death Trail. By
Edward L. Wheeler.
269 The Gold Ship. By Col. P. Ingraham.
270 Blizzard Ben. By Ca tain Mark Wilton.

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m

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“ENNNNNNNNN
mmmmmmmmm
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271 The Huge Hunter. y Edward S. Ellis.
272 Millkskin Mike. By 011 Coomes.
273 Jumbo Joe. By Edward L. Wheeler.
274 Jolly Jim. By Charles Morris.
275 Arizona Jack. By Buckskin Sam.
276 Merle Moutc’s Cruise. By Ingraham.
277 Denver Doll. By Edward L. heeler.
2‘78 The Three Trappcrs. B ' Major Carson.
279 Old \Vineh, TEE RIFLE a. By T. C.
Harbaugh.
280 Merle Montc’u Fate. By Col. Ingraham.
281 Denver Doll’s Victory. B Wheeler.
282 The Typo Detective. By E ward Willett.
283 Indian Joe. By Major L. W. Carson.
284 The. Sea lVlaraudcr. By Col. Ingraham.
285 Denver Doll’s Decoy. By E. L. Wheeler.
2256 Josh the Boy Tenderl'oot; or. THE:
WILD MEN or BUZZARD BAR. B Mark Wilton.
287 Billy Blue-Eyes. By Col. . Ingraham.

288 The Scalp King. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams.

289 Jolly Jiln’n Job. By Charles Morris.

290 Little Foxllrc. By 011 Coomes.

291 Turk, the Ferret. By E. L. Wheeler.

292 Sancho Pedro. By Major E. L. St. Vrain.

293 Red Claw, TllE ONE-EYED TRAPPER. Dy
Captain ConIstOck.

294 Dynalnite Dan.

295 Fearless Phil.

296 Denver Doll’s Drift.

297 Tile Tarantula of Taos.
Sam.

298 The Water-Hound. By Charles Morris.

299 A No. 1 the Dashing Toll-Taker.
By Edward L. Wheeler.

300 The Sky Demon. By 011 Coomes.

301 Leadville Nick, THE BOY SPORT. By Maj.
E. L. St. Vrain.

By T. C. Harbaugh.
By Edward Willett.
By E. L. VVheelor.
By Buckskin

302 The Mountain Detective. By T. C.
Harbaugh.

303 9Liza Jane, THE GIRL MINER. By E. L.
Wheeler.

304 The Dead Shot Dandy. By Ingraham.

305 Dashaway. 01' Dakota. By Chas. Morris.

306 Neck-Tie Ned, THE LARwr 'I‘RROWER. By
Major Henry B. Stoddard. Ex-Seout.

307 The Strange Pard. By Buckskin Sam.

308 Keno Kit, THE BOY BUGLER’S PARD. By
Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.

309 Deadwood Dick’s Big Deal. By Ed-
ward L. \Vheeler.

310 The Barranca Wolf. By J. E. Badger.
311' The Roving Sport' or. Tar. PRIDE or
Cnvcmucx Cm. By Eilward \Villett.

312 Redtop Rube, TEE anw'rn PRINCE. By

Major E. L. St. Vrain,
313 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen ' or, Tin:
- Faun or Tar. FORKS. By E. L. Wheeler

A new ism every week.
The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all
Newsdealers, five cents per mgflibfifélt by mail on

receipt of six cents each. & ADAMS,
Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.