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82.50 a. year. Entered at the Post Office at Newiiirork. N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyright, 1884, by BEADLE in)  March 5. 154.
Sin le PUBLISHED WEEK L Y BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price,
VOL  Num era . No. 98 WILLIAM STREET. NEW YORK. 5 Centso NO‘ 

 

 

PIREHEELS: or, Old Skinflint, the Death-Shadow.

BY ROGER STARBUOK,

AUTHOR OF “OLD TAR KNUCKLE AND HIS BOY CHUMS,” “THE BOY CORAL FISHERS,” ETC, ETC.

 

 

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“MISERABLE RAT! HYAR I AM—SKINF'LINT. YER DEATH-SHADOW!"

   
   

 

    

  

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  Skinfiint, the Death-Shadow.

   

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Fireheels ;

Old Skinflint', the Death-Shadow.

BY ROGER STARBUCK,

AUTHOR or “THE GOLDEN HARPOON,” “THE
i BLACK SCHOONER," ETC., ETC.

 

1 CHAPTER I.
WAYLAID.
‘ “OH, father, what a gloomy place! I be-
lieve this is where a coach was attacked and
robbed, two years ago.”

“I think so, but you need not feel alarmed.
If there are any robbers here, now, they would
have shown themselves before this.”

The first speaker was Bell Danton—a lovely

girl of sixteen, with black eyes, a rosy, piqnant
co and a round, sup is form.
Her father, who ha replied to her, as shown,
‘was an energetic-looking man, now on his way
to establish a salmon factory, near the Salmon
River mountains, Idaho Territory.

The traveling-coach in which the girl and

‘her parent were seated had just entered a

’ gloomy gorge, the rocky walls of which were
thickly covered with shrubbery, while below,
-on each side of the road, extended a dense
thicket of willows, adding to the gloom of the
locality.

The coach, containing gold-dust, taken in at
Montana, was on its way tOSalt Lake City.
There were, besides the two passengers men-
tioned, ten more, five of them, who wore
slouched hats and heavy boots, having the ap-
pearance of miners. Three of the Others were
elderly women and the remaining two were
heavy, sleepy-looking Germ s. All the male
occupants of the Vehicle are armed— the
miners, especially, being well provided with re-
volvers and knives.

Presently both Bell and her father leaned
forward, peeping through a window, on seeing
a. young hunter half-hidden by the willows,
seated on a rocky ledge, apparently gazing at
the coach. The brief, indistinct glimpse the
two Obtained of him shOWed him to be a mere
youth of nineteen, Of handsome, manly ap-
pearance.

He wore a hunting-shirt of dressed deerskin,
a catskin cap, leggins and moccasins. In his
right hand he held a rifle, and in a broad belt
about his waist were a ' istol and a knife.

“A trim-looking fel ow, I should say,” re-
marked Mr. Danton, “ although I caught but a
‘flying’ glim se of him.”

“He looke well enough,” replied Bell, a
blush suffusing her smooth cheeks. “I only
glanced at him.”

Her father laughed.

“The glance was a long one, at all events,”
he remarked.

The Vehicle had nearly passed through the
gorge, when suddenly a. couple of men sprung

mm the shrubbery and seized the horses’ reins.

At the same moment a noise was heard on the
roof of the coach and the driver tumbled sense-
less to the ground.

“There are only two robbers!" cried Mr.
Danton, drawing a revolver from his pocket
and addressing the miners. “Come, We can
easily drive them off!” v

As he spoke, be opened the window, but ere
he could raise his Weapon, two of the supposed
miners held their pistols at his head, while
another struck his wrist with a force which
caused his revolver to drop from his grasp.
The other two miners, with the muzzles of their
pistols jammed against the heads of the Ger-
mans, threatened to blow out their brains if
thgy attempted resistance.

ell, with a shriek of terror, clung to her pa-
gnt, when she was roughly ordered to let go of

m.

The coachdoor was 0 ened and three villain-

 .»  ous'looking fell0ws, attired like the pretended

' miners, who it was now evident were their con-
fedegntes, ruslhgd in]. u

“ ‘ome, ga , sai one, sto er uawkin
or we’ll stick yer with this!” p y sq 8’

And. as he spoke, he pulled a formidable
knife from his belt.

“You had better keep silent, Bell,” said Mr.
Danton. “Your cries can do no good. There
is, evtdently, no person in this wilderness at
hand to help us."

~ “Yer may think yerselves luck to git off
with yer livesl” exclaimed one o the gan .

t  _, “All we want is the dust, and what little v15
. «tables, in the shape of gold watches, jewelry,

‘
\

 

etc., you and the other passengers may hev
about ’em.”

“So, then, (you took passage in this coach
to rob it?” sai Mr. Danton, in order to sin
time, for he fancied he heard approaching oot-
Ste 3.

‘ Yer might see that with one eye. Come,
fork over—you and yer gal beer, or it’ll be the
worse for yer l”

“ I have not much money with me, and my
daughter has no jewelry.”

“ As ef we hadn’t our eye on the gold watch
she tuck out a moment sence.”

“ That watch was a present from her mother,
be’fpre she died. Surely you might let her keep
it.

At that instant the sharp ring of a ride was
heard, followed by a
one of the robbers hol ng the horses dropped
dead, shot through the brain.

_ “This way, pards, this way!” came a clear,
trumpet-like voice, and, from the dense willows,
rushed half a dozen sturdy fellows, in buckskin,
headed by the same youth who had been
Evatching the coach go past the ledge on which

e sat.

Both Mr. Danton and Bell could see him
through the window, as he dashed toward the
vehicle. _

Cries of rage escaped the robbers. They
jumped from the coach, and, in a moment, all
disappeared in the thick shrubbery, on the
side of the gor e opposite to that from which
the hunter and his companions had ad vanced.

The youth already alluded to had entered the
coach.

He was, as stated, a fine handsome fellow.
His face, bron2ed by sun and wind, glowed
with health, he had clear, blue eyes, long,
brown hair, and a firm, handsome mouth,
graced by a slight mustache.

Raising his catskin cap, he said:

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am glad to say
that my pards and I hev driven Off the robbers.
It was fortunate that we were near enough to
hear the crack of the varmint’s pistol. We sus-

ected how things were, and came like white-
ighming, at your sarvice!”

Mr. Danton smiled and shook hands with the
speaker.

“After I get settled near Logville, where I
am building a salmon-factory, I shall be happy
to have you call on me.”

“ Thanks, I shall be happy to come,” said the

outh. “But the place is a long way from
iyar. You’ll hev to foot it for at east twenty
miles, and ef you like, I’d be pleased to be your
escort.”

“Oh, yes, sir, that is if it would not be too
much trouble,” said Bel], blushing.

“None at all. miss,” answered the youth, his
blue eyes sparkling with pleasure.

“I should be glad of your company,” said Mr.
Danton.

Meanwhile the coachman had rsuaded the
other hunt: rs to go with him a s ort distance,
as he was afraid of a renewal of the attack by
the robbers, further on.

The six men were therefore in the coach
when the driver, who had recovered his senses,
again started his horses.

A ride of about thirty miles brought. Bell and
her father to the station where they would be
obliged to leave the vehicle. They were fortu-
nate enough to hire a wagon and team, when,
in company with Frank Belton, they kept on
for the new settlement—then called Logville.

There they finally arrived, when Belton,
politely declining an invitation from Mr. Dan-
ton to go to his house with him, but promisin
to call upon him in a few days, took leave 0
father and daughter.

“Do you know that youn fellow?” Danton
inquired of some rugged-looking hunter-settlers,
who were busy about their hmists.

“ Oh. yes, sir, that’s FIREIIEELS.”

‘ “Why is he called Fireheels?”

“ Because once, when he was captured by
Snake Indians. he esca ed by rmmm: through
a burning thicket, which they had Set .on fire.
SinCe that the Indians have all given him that
yere name.”

“Bi V hOw could he
being med to death?’ ,

“Well, yer see the thicket had Jest begun
to burn, hyar and thar, but ’fore he got through
he was almost in a cage of fire. Then he took
of! his buckskin shirt, and wrapped it round his
head fur the rest 0’ the way.” ,

“ SO then, besides having other Hood qllflllh?!
our friend is a salamander,” Mr. Danton laugh-
ingly remarked to his daughter, as the two
moved on.

Bell smiled, but made no reply.

go into the fire without

oan near the coach, at

 

A few minutes later she and her parent «1- ' ‘
tered the new house which had'been erected and '

prepared for their reception by one of Mr. Dan-

 

ton s agents.
CHAPTER II.
'1' H E Q U A a a E L .
Ma. DANTON had not been long in ille, ‘

when he became tolerabl well acquaint with
his neighbors. Amongt ose who called upon
him, was a young man of twenty, named Luke
Lorne. He appeared tobe an intelligent r-
son, although his manners were coarse, an he
had a habit of using violent expletives, when
provoked.

He was rough in appearance, with large fea-
tures, thick li s, and a constant twinkle in his
blue eyes. H hair, of an auburn tint, curled
closely about his round ‘bnllet-bead,’ and aheavy
mustache of the same, hue flourished on his up-

r lip. In stature he was about the middling

ight, broad in the shoulders and otherwise
powerfully built.

It was of this rson, who owned several
houses and many p ots Of ground in L0 ille,
that Mr. Danton had purchased the site or his

salmon factory, now being erected. Lorne was ‘

said to heme inherited much money from a
relative. who had died at a distant settlement
and made him his heir.

“A worthy young man, I should say,” re-
mark-d Bell’s father to the girl. one day after
Lorne had paid them a visit. “ He wants a wife
—-he hinted as much to me. He even went fur-
ther, saying that what first attracted him to
you was a startling resemblance, which you
bear to a fair cousin Of his named Ellen Board-
man, Of whom he was very fond. He told me
that when he first beheld you, in the street, he
thought you were his cousin, Ellen, and was
going to address you as such, when he saw me
come from my factory, to meet you, and heard
me call you b your first name, which showed
him his mista e.

“If so fond of this cousin why did not he
marry her 1'”

“Oh, well, he did not like her in that way,
you know—only as a brother.”

“I must confess I have, a curiosity to see this
girl who so much resembles me. ”

“It seems she does not live here now. She
has moved to another settlement. Her mother,
who was a widow and an invalid, fancied that
the climate a little further North would do her
good. Lately, howaver, Lorne heard that the
widow was supposed to be dying, and he seemed
much effected by the news, for he has a hour!—
this Lorne—besides being a erson of means.
Upon my word, I don’t thin you could ‘do
bt'Hm‘.’ ”

" I suppose you are jesting, father,” said
Bell, “ but if you are not, I should let you know
that Mr. Lorne is a man whom I never could
wish for a husband. He is too coarse~too—”

“ Pooh i” said her parent, “you mistake his
gruff backwoods air for coarseness. For my
part I ad mire the manly bearing of our Western
pioneers.”

“ SO do I,” said Bell. “ I do not dislike the
rough frankness of the trapper; but Mr. Lorne
is different from the wild prairie-men. There is
something vile—something mean and cunning
in his wav, which reminds me Of the wolf and
fox combined.”

“Upon my Word you give him a good name,”
remarked Mr. Danton, rising and leaving the

com.

For half an hour after he was gone Bell sat
silent and thoughtful. ,

“Where have I seen his face before?” she
asked herself, as she had done several times
since becoming acquainted with Mr. Lorne. “I
have certainly seen it somewhere before we
came here.” .

All at once the truth flashed upon her mind.
I “ Yes, the more I think of it, the more I am
convinced that it was (here i saw that face,"
she continued—“in the coach which was at.
tacked. It was the face of (me of the three rob-
bers who rushed into the Vel i‘clc. Owing to um
slouched hat and a high coat-collar. I (w uld not
see the eyes; but the nose, the mustache, and
the sneering smile were this Lorne’s.” '

Then it occurred to Bell that possibly she
might be mistaken. It was likely there we"
other faces in the world like Lorne-’5; and so
even if she clung to her suspicion, she would
say nothing about it to her father orto any
other rson.

As t me went on it seemed evident that Lorne,
undiscouraged by Bell‘s coldness, was making
as he had owned to her father, ‘a dead set‘
against her affections.

Mr. Danton reasoned with his daughter, cit-

 

  

 
    
   
    
  

     
 

 
  

Ti. Belton, or “
‘: most settlers and Indians.

 (1‘13 i go,” said the hunter, as

   
 

the t. .

a .
T

 

hoois' ;’ or, Cid skinnini,

.‘ "i a

1 the Deatheshadow.

mi.

 

 

. iiorne's wealth, his ‘blunt honesty,’ as he
~ w‘ it, his man! strength of character,

“Etc” as recommendat ons; but in vain.

Occasional!

    

there was another 0 dier—young
'reheels,”as he was termed by

'He always received a kind Welcome from
Bell, although her father had laidy treated the
youth with marked coldness.

As Belton was approaching one d y for the
pprpose of pa ng him another visit, he met

r. Danton, w o, contrary to his habit, scarce-
ly re lied to his greeting.

“ re you going to my house?" he inquired.

“Yes, sir; was going thar,” answered the
. younihunter. .
“I ave to tell you, then, that I would pre-

"fer that you discontinue your visits.”

Belton stared at the s eaker in surprise.

“ It may seem rude or me to say this,” con-
' tinned Danton, “ but I have a good reason.”

“ Ef you’ll speak more plainly, I’ll thank
, you ” said Fireheels.

“ Well, then, I understand that you have
boasted to some of your companions that you

were going to marry an heiress—that she was
‘dead in love’ with you, and that you expect-
r ed to make more money that way than you
.could by twenty years’ trapping and hunting.
Of course, the heiress you alluded to was my
daughter!”

Bolton’s e as flashed fire.

“ Whar id you hear such a base lie, sir?
Some one, I see, has been plotting against me."

“ I heard it from a person in whom I have
gonfldence enough to know that he would not

ie.

“Who is the coon, and whar kin I find him i”
said Fireheels.

“ It matters not.
rels.”

With these words, Mr. Danton turned on his

‘heel, moving toward his factory.

Belton stood for some moments looking after
him like one dazed. Then he also turned and
walked away.

“ Ef I could only find the varmint who has
spoiled the sweetest part of my life, which bah
been since I’ve got to going to Mr. Danton’s, and
seeing the most beautiful gal that ever lived—cf
I could find the rascal, l’d drag him before ihe
man that’s just a oken to me, and make him
own that it wasa alsebood be had told.” _

Thus muttered Belton to himself as be hurried
on and entered a lonely valley a few miles from
the settlement.

As he was about to cross the valley to climb
iup the other side of it, he heard a girl’s voice,
rising from behind a rock, a few yards in ad—
vance of him.

“Go away! Lona does not want the white
iman’s money. She has a heart which is better
than money, even if her skin is red.”

“But,” came the voice of a man. “ Fireheels
has shot and wounded one of your tribe. They
should be glad to have their revenge.”

“Beven e is sweet to the red-man,” was the
answer, “ ut Fireheels neVer shot one of our
tribe. It was the Indian of another tribe, who
wanted to join us, that he shot—and then only
because the Indian was going to shoot him.”

“ But all the red‘men should be of one mind.
So long as it was an Indian he wounded, what
Idiflerence does it make to which tribe he be-
longed?”

“ Lona has heard enough; she will go. The
white man’s money shall never tempt her to plot
with her tribe against Fireheels.”

Belton now saw the girl move rapidly away
'up the valley and disappear in the shrubbery
beyond. At the same moment, from behind the
rock emerged Luke Lorne,!ooking angry and dis-
! ninted.

p be young hunter stole up toward him, so
lightly that he did not see him until he raised
his 0 es.

Haystarted and turned pale, but, in a moment,
the recOVered his composure.

“ Well?” he said. a little haughtily, as Belton
stood gazing straight into his face. “ What do
.you want?” .

“I overheard, by chance, what was said.
You’ve been plotting against me, Luke Lorne.”

“ Well, suppose I have. You are a nuisance
to the country, going about shooting Indians,

and, in that we , exciting the ill-will of the
uvtiges against t e white settlers!”

“ never yet shot a savage whose hand was
not first raised against me. You know that,
well enoagh "

“I cannot stop to band words with on,”

ded the other, “ my e is too ous.”
. ‘ I hev a question to at to you before on
e brought the bu of

I wish to breed no quar-

l

 

his rifle to the ground. “ I hev to ask you ef it
was on who told that lie against me to Mr.
Dan n.”

“ What do you mean?”

Belton explained in a few words.

“ It was no lie,” was the answer. “ I can read
you like a book, and I know you have said
something of that sort.”

“ i never said it. It is not in me to talk that
way. You own then you are the varmint who
told the falsehood.”

“I told him, but I don’t think it was a false-
hood. Keep your distance,” added Lorne. pull-
ing a revolver from his pocket, as Belton
step d toward him.

ith one dextrous blow of his rifle, the hun-
ter knocked the pistol from the speaker’s grasp,
and laid an iron hand on his collar.

“ You will go to Mr. Danton, and own to him
that what you said was an infarnal lie, or I’ll
thrash you.”

“ Never!” answered Lorne, grufliy, as he
struck the other in the face.

The two closed in a struggle.

Both were equally strong, but Firebeels was
the more active of the two.

All at once he dexterously twisted his ad-
versary across his hip and flung him headlong
to the ground.

Lorne had already been severe! pummeled
by the other youth, and now, his s all striking
a stone, he lay for a moment stunned.

At length he arose, but showed no disposition
to renew the combat.

“I will yet be even with you for this,” he
said, as he picked up his revolwr and moved off.

Belton watched him scornfully as he left the
valley, and then turning, walked away.

CHAPTER IiI.
A DARK DEED.
ON the afternoon of the day following the
quarrel between Belton and Lorne, Miss Danton

‘went out for a walk. The bright, clear Weather

and the charming scenery tempted her to go
further than usual.

Finally she found herself in the valley where
the hunter and Lorne had had their dispute.
She sat dewn on a mossy rock to rest when
her attention was attracted by a sound behind
her, which she at once knew to be that of a
rattlesnake.

She arose, but the snake was coiled ready to
dart upon her, and she feared to move. There
she stood, her eyes meeting the bright little orbs
of the creature, as, with head erect, it gazed
steadily upon her.

The next moment it would have sprung
upon her, but for a rifle which rung not
far off, Sending a bullet through its head and
killing it almost instantly.

The clear voice of Fireheels was now heard
from the upper edge of the valley.

“A plum-center shot, and it Certainly was
neVer more necessary than now!”

He advanced and looked at the snake, while
Bell thanked him for the timely resoue.

“I happened to be passing and saw your situ-
ation, miss,” said Belton, “and I‘m glad chance
brought me this way.”

B‘l‘lYou have not called on us lately,” said

e .

“Well, no; I hev been pretty busy hunting
lately,” said the youth, coloring, as he remem-
gered her father’s words to him on the previous

33".

“ I’ll not say anything to her about it,” he
thought.

Soon after sundown, Bell, bidding him good-
day and bestowing upon him a smilin glance
from her large black eyes, moved 0 home-
war . -

He stood watching her until she entered a
piece of woods a hundred yards ahead, when all
at once he hurried after her.

Mr. Danton, learning from Bell’s aunt that
the young girl was gone out fora walk, con-
cluded to go to meet her on her return.

He walked some distance when, just at dusk,
gazmg ahead of him, he saw Fireheels appar—
ently looking at something in a hollow. He
hurried to the side of the youth, and a cry of
lhorror escaped him at the spectacle which met

is gaze. .

In the hollow. lying u n her back, was the
dead body of a female, w 0 had evidently been
tarottled, as there were finger-marks upon the
t rout.

“Good God! it is my daughter!” cried Mr.
Danton.

For amoment he stood like one transfixed

sing with grief and horror upon the dead

orm.
“ What does this mean?” he then said fiercely, .

 

shaking Belton by the shoulder. “ Answer me,
will oui”

“ 0d knows I would if I could,” the youth
replied. “It seems to me like a'dream. Only
half an hour ago she was alive and well.”

“ Who killed her?” continued Mr. Danton,
confronting the other and looking him straight
in the face. “ Come, perhaps you will not be so
read to answer me now.”

Be ton’s cheeks, which had already lost some
of their ruddy color, became yet paler.

“ I do not know.”

“ In my opinion, you know more about this
affair than you pretend!” said Danton, hoarse-

y.

A look of horror was blended with the ex-
pression of grief on the face of the youth.

“I think I understand you, sir,” he cried;
“ but as true as thar is a God abovs us, you
wron me. So far from hurting that sweet

a1, d have risked my own life in her de-
el‘l‘sfil” h i th t I find d

ow a ns t a ou,an on
alone, by hegplrodyi” y y

Belton commenced by explaining about the

serpent.

" I saw her reachthe woods; then I noticed a ‘

form skulking about in the shad0w, as of watch-
ing her. As well as I could make out, when I
got nearer, it seemed to be a Woman. Thinking
that one of her own sex could mean her no
harm, I turned and kept upon my way, which
was in a direction from the woods. I had not
gone far, and had ot behind a knoll, which hid
them from my sig t, when I thought I heard a
scream from that way. I hurried to the woods
as fast as I could go, and when I got tharI
came upon this,” added Belton, shuddering as
he pointed to the body.

“ Your story seems improbable,” said Mr.
Danton. “My daughter could not have been
killed in this way by a woman.”

“No—no woman would hev been likely to
do it,” answered Belton.

Mr. Danton looked darkly at the speaker;
then be seized him by the collar, and, at the
same time drew a pistol from his pocket.

" Come, sir, you are not going to escape me.
You shall go with me before Mr. Bole. the jus-
Lice."

“Hands off, sir, hands off,” said Belton, more
in sorrow than in anger. “And there is no
need of your drawing your pistol. The sight of
that sweet one, in that condition,” he added, in
a voice of an ‘ish, “ has taken the spunk clean
out of me. at I am willing to go, of my own
accord, with you to the justice. and tell him all
I know, whip i is what I hev just told you.”

“ Come, then, come at once!”

Belton, like one walking in a dream, followed
Mr. Danton to the settlement.

They went before the justice of the place—a
hard-featured man named John Bole, who had
been elected to his present position through
Lorne’s influence.

To him Belton and Mr. Danton told their
story.

The merchant then drew Mr. Bole to one side,
and whispered to him, when the latter with-
drew for a few minutes,to soon return with
several stout, armed men.

“ You will be put under arrest, Frank Belton,
while the inquest is going on,” said the ‘uslice.
“I hope that some new light may t en be
thrown upon the affair, which will clear you
from suspicion.”

“ And is it possible,” said Fireheels, seemin
to commune with himself rather than to a -
dress the men before him, “that thar kin be
an suspicion of my having killed that sweet,
ba y~faced gal?”

He was led off to a stone building, which
servmg the purpose of a temporary jail, stood
out at the further extremity of the settle out.
The room in which be was confined was i the
upper part of the edifice, and had but two small
gindows, across which were fixed strong, iron

ars.

An hour later an inquest was held over the
remains of the murdered girl, but no new facts
were brought to light. '

me, who acted as foreman of the jury,
wound up with the followin remarks: .

“I Will not say that Mr. elton perpetrated
this foul crime, but I will say, and in this all
the gentlemen of the jury agree with me, that
he alone being found near the body, coupled
with his own statement that he was with the
young lady just before the tragedy, give strong

grounds for suspecting that he and none other \

was the asassin !”

“And yithe has the name of bein’ each an *

honest chap,” said one of the members.

. “ Honest enough he doubtless is.” said Lorna “‘

    
     
  

  
  
   

   

       
   
  
   
   
  
  
    
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
 
  
  
  
     
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
   
   
    
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
     
  
   
   
  
   
   
   
    
   
   
   
  
   
   
  
      
        
     
        
     
    

 

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“ but he has a terrible temper. You can see it
in his eyes.”

“ That’s so,” “ Jest so,” “I reckin that’s Gospel
truth,” and other ejaculations of a similar na-
ture, escaped the lips of the other members of
the jury.

 

CHAPTER IV.
THE INDIAN GIRL.

SEVERAL days passed, during which pre ara-
tions were being made for Bolton’s tria . It
had been predicted by persons who had visited
him that circumstances were so strong against
him that he would surely be hung for the crime
of which he was sup (1 to be guilty.

On the fourth nig t after the murder, as he
satin the prison, With his head bowed upon his
hands, be imagined he heard a sort of scratch-
in noise, above his head.

8 looked up. The noise was repeated, and
then, s10wly and gradually, the scuttle of the
apartment was raised, and a human head was
thrust through the opening.

By the dim light of the candle in his room,
Belton recognized the lace, which was that of

" Lona, the Indian girl, who belonged to a tribe

v .drew
.lflfi.

of Omah;s, encamped some miles from the set-
tlement.

She made a motion with her hand for him to
keep silent; then she lowered into the room a
slender rope~ladder, the upper end of which she
had fastened to a book, by means of which the
scuttle had been secured on the outside.

She next motioned to the youth to mount.

. He shook his head, and made signs to her to
go away, but she would not do so.

Instead of that, she descended into the room,
revealing a face and form, which were more
than usually attractive.

Her long, black hair, escaping from under a
jaunty little Cap, ornamented with a drooping
red feather, hung below the hollow of her back.
Her skin, although of dusky hue, glowed with
health, her features were regular and noble,
and a sweeter mouth could hardly be imagined.
Her eyes, large, black and soft, beamed with a
blended expression of gentleness and spirit, her
hands were as small as a child’s, and her shape-
ly feet were incased in mouse-colored mocca-
sins. The robe of light deer-skin confined about
the waist and ornamented with fringe, shOWed
the grace and beauty of her shape to advan-
tage, and nothing could have been more easy
and natural than her movements.

“Listen,” she whiSpered. “ The Fireheels
knows that Lona is his friend. He must go
away from here, or his death will be sure.
Once Lona saved his life, and he then promised
her that he would never refuse any re uest
she might make. Come, let her save his life a
seeond time.”

“ It may not be,” answered the hunter. “ Go
back, Lona, or you will get yourself into trouble.
I know I made promise to rant any reasonable
1'?) nest of yourn, but this one is onreason-
a e.

“Lona will not go till Fireheels
her,” said the girl, resolutely. “If
get her into trouble, let him refuse.”

“You know not, gal, what you’re talkin
about. In the first place, thar’s no prospects 0
death, for, of I sta hyar, my innocence on
trial must be provo .”

“Tell me where you would look for justice.”
said Lona, with dilating eyes. “The Indian
girl has keen eyes. There is one person who
will do all he can to hurry the young hunter
3),)!“ fate. I need not tell Fireheels who that

oes with
0 would

“I kin think of no one who could be mean
enough for such a thing.”

“It is the man Luke Lorne that Lona speaks
of. He hates the hunter. Lona has watched
him, and she knows it. What she says is true.
IfFireheels does not leave this lace that man
will cause him to be hung! us has heard‘
him say he would do that,”

“ You’ve heard the mesa] say that?”

“ It is true. Fireheels knows that Lona
would not lie. The missionaries who have visit-
ed her tribe, besides teaching her to read and
write, have taught her to tell the truth. Come,
will the hunter go with Lona nowr’

“Yes, gal, I will. Ef thar’s tobe ~any trick-
ery on the trial by that mean coon, sconer than
give him the satisfaction of hanging an innocent
man, I will go with on.”

Thedarke esoft e girl sparkled yith jo .
She pointed the rope-ladder, which the s-
onar now nimhly ascended.

After he had mounted it, Lona followed. She
the ladder and gent] closed the scut-

, coiling the ropes a at her neck, we

pointed to a tree which stood about a foot from
the edge of the roof.

The building was not guarded by sentinels.
Persons were only temporaril confined there to
await their trials, after wh oh the were rep'
moved to a better and stronger jail a settle-
ment a few miles beyond Logville.

Belton, descending the tree, was soon joined
by his rescuer.

The night was not ver dark and the girl
went ahead to keep a 100 out. in a few min-
utes she returned hastil .

“ Down! down in the bushes!” she whispered.
“Lorne coming this way with party of men.
He already has seen Lona!”

Belton crouched behind a clump of shrubbery,
and a moment later Lorne came up.

“ Halloal Lona here at this time of the
night,” he cried, suspiciously, “ and so near the
jail, too I”

“ Lona goes eyerywhere,” she answered,
coolly.

“ That’s so,” spoke up one of the men, laugh-
ing; “that gel is like aghost. Yer meet her
everywhere, and at all times of the night.”

“ But I thought I saw some one with her just
now,” continued Lorne. “ Come, na, s ak
up and tell-us who was with you,” he a ded,
moving toward the clump of shrubbery behind
which Belton was crouched.

Fireheels perceived that discovery was inevi-
table if he remained where he was.

There was a hollow behind him, and into this
he slid.

“ I’m going to look behind these bushes,” said
Lorne, turning to the two men with him. “ Re-
member, with a murderer in yonder jail, it is
necessary to be careful. Here we are on our
way, now, to suggest to the justice that irons
be put upon his wrists, and it would be strange
enough if, while we are taking these precau-
tions, he should succeed in escaping.”

So saying. he moved the shrubbery aside, and
peered behind it.

Belton had trusted to his being concealed by
the darkness in the hollow; but Lorne, stepping
forward, stooped and looked down into it.

Fireheels remained so still in the pit that
Lorne did not at first perceive that any one was
there.

To the intense surprise of Belton, he now
heard a low, hissing voice'at his ear.

“Jest change places with me. and yer’ll see
him go off like a ghost. Quick! Heer he
Comes!”

The speaker—a long, gaunt shadow—had
emerged from a mass of high grass in the ho!-
low on Belton’s right.

The youth could not, of course, see him dis-
tinctly—could discern little of him except his
eyes, and these seemed fairly ablaze, 'like those
of some wild beast. They looked like round
balls of fire, girdled by two white rings; and as
he met the steadfast gaze, be felt a hand, like
the claws of a bear, clutch him by the arm.

Mechanically, he shifted his posmon to the
left of the stranger, who at once took his
place. I

Lorne, thinking he saw a moving form, had
lbeen about to creep dowu the side of the ho!-
0w.

Then, all at once the strange being elevating
his head in the moonlight, as if it was that of a
serpent, whispered in the young man’s ear four
words, which caused him to start back With a
low or of terror, and draw quickly away from
the ho low. , ,

“ What is iti What did yer see?” inquired
Lorne’s companions.

“ Nothing,” he said.

“Then there was no one there?”

“ No; but a snake rubbed against my hand,
and it startled me l”

 

CHAPTER V.
THE COMBAT.

Lawn: and the men with him moved on.

As soon as they were out of Si ht; Belton
turned to thank the person who he so oppor-
tunely saved him from being discowred-

To his surprise, he then perceived that the
stranger was gone.

“ Did you see that man come out of the pit?”
he in uired of Lona. .

“ es, he go 03 that way like a shadow,” and
she inted toward the eastward.

“ t was very strange,” said Belton. , “ He
merely whispered something in Lorne s ear,
which sent him away at once.” i

“Lona is lad. She much afraid the white
hunter be ta en ain.”

t I" Seeing the at or person in the pit, I reckon
Lorne ha n’t any suspicion I was thar.”

 

 

“ No, but he soon find out n0w; you escape}.

and, we must go fast. Come, we have far to:
o. .
It was late ere the twain reached the camp
of the Oriiahas. The chief—a tall di nified-
savage—came forward and welcomed Be ton.

“ Fireheels is safe with the Omahas,” he said.
“ There was a time when he saved the tribe.
and now the tribe will save him. Wono does
not forget!”

“ That I saved your tribe, Wono, is very
true; but you had to streak it some to save
yourselves after I warned you that the Black—
feet were coming to attack you.”

“ The hunter has had poor food of late,” re~
marked Lona. “Let my brother give him of
the best in the camp.”

“ Ugh! That is good. He shall have it,” an-
swered the chief.

Belton was conducted to a tent, and he was"
soon partaking of a good repast.

When he had finished it, Lona came in, and
spread for him in one cornera comfortable couch
of skins.

The hunter, soon after, was buried in a pro-
found slumber, from which he was awakened,
before midnight, by a hand upon his shoulder..

He opened his eyes, to behold, by the light of
the moon, which was now shining, the face and!
form of a youth of seventeen, who stood look
in down upon him with a troubled aspect.

%elt0n recognized him as Tamina the son of
one of the old Indian chiefs.

“Well, why hev you waked me from a sound
and sweeter sleep than I’ve had before, since I.
was arrest-ad?”

“There. is a reason. Tamina would ask the
white hunter to leave the camp.”

“ To leave vour camp? Who sent you on
that errand? as it Lona?”

“ It was not Lona. Lona is glad to have the
hunter here, and that is why Tamina is not
glad.”

“I understand—a case of jealousy; but you
needn’t trouble yourself, Tamina; I’m not going
to try to out you out.”

“ That is why Tamina thinks the hunter
should go away. If he wanted LOna for his
squaw, then the Indian would not say a word.
But he knows the heart of the Fireheels is away
from the ‘Singing-Thrusb,’ and he would not
have her throw hers away on himl” '

“Nonsense! The gal doesn’t care for me in-
the way you think. She is friendly, for the lit-
tle service I did her tribe. That is all.”

“It is not so. She will never be the squaw
of Tamina while Fireheels is here.”

Again the hunter told the young Indian,
what he really believed to be the case—that he
was mistaken. The other insisted he was not.

“ And so Fireheels must go.”

“Thar’l! be a price on my head. I’ll be-
hunted down for a Crime I couldn’t hev done,
had I tried. if I go, l’ll be arrested.”

“ Is it better, then, that Fireheels should.
break the heart of Singing-Thrush ?”

“ Thar’s no danger of that. I’ll not leave
your camp, so long as Wono is willing I should
stay hyar.”

‘ The hunter will not go?”

“ I have said it.”

“Then Tamina and be are no longer friends.”

“Come, Injun. you’ll not be so foolish as
that.” said Belton.

“ What Tamina says he means.

“ You are not going to betray me?” said Bel—
ton, sternly.

But the young Indian abruptly left the tent,
making no reply. Belton turned over on his
couch and again dropped to sleep. On the fol-
lowing afternoon Tamina made his appearance
before Fireheels. who was still in the tent which
had been given up to him for his use.

“The white hunter has refused to leaVe the
Omaha camp!”

“ I hev. Why should I leave it?’

“ I have said why. Will Fireheels refuse to
meet Tamina, too?”

“ To meet you?” .

“Yes. Tamina would meet Fireheels, knife
in hand, that he and the Indian may fight out
their quarrel!”

“ I have no quarrel with on, Injun. I don’t
want to take human life ef kin help it.”

“ The words of Fireheels are big. His heart
may be big, too. But I will try it.”

"Come, now, Tamina, thar’s no use of our
trying to force a fight on me. I’m friend y to
your people, and don’t want to hurt you.”

The youugklndian curled his lip.

" Tamina news how to use his knife as well
"iii: himm'” do b u tl’m t i'

er ape ou , u re no 0 n
to fight you.” pa. 8 g

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tanned, “ but 11 own I’m sorry t

{Then Fireheels is afraid: He has the heart of

 

«it, ' haw—of a. coward!”

- v 6 quick temper of the youth was not proof
8 ainst this taunt.

re he himself was hardly aware of it his
hand flew out against the speaker’s tawny cheek.
' The other showed no emotion whatever, except
a fierce glitter of the eyes. ‘

“ Fireheels has struck Tamina. He cannot
refuse him, now, what he asked !”

“I sup ose you’re right,” said Belton, regret-
fully. “ har shall we meet?”

“ A mile from here there is a willow grove.”

“ 1 know the place.”

“ Near the grove there are thick bushes. I
will be there, waiting for Fireheelsl"

“ All right, Injuu,” said the hunter. “ I’ll be
'thar with you, before the sun goes down.”

Tamina strode out of the tent, and at once
repaired to the spot he had mentioned.

A man emerged from the clump of shrubbery.
It was Luke Lorne.

“Well, how did you make out?” he inquired.

“ Fireheels will soon be here. Has my white
brother posted his men?”

“Yes, there are eight of them, four being
officers of the law.”

“ It is well,” said Tamina.

While he was speaking, Fireheels left the
camp, and was soon on his way to the appointed
rendezvous.

The impatient young Indian went forward a
'short distance, and climbed up a tree to watch
for his coming.

At that moment Lorne heard a low whistle,
close behind him. He turned to behold a tall
lean, figure he had never seen before, wearing a
slouched hat and a teamster’s long blue frock.

“This way,” said the stranger. drawing the
youth to one side. “You are after Fireheels,
are vou not?”

“Yes-n

“Well, if you wait for him heer he'll escape
yer. He has suspicions. and will come round this
way, instead of taking the path you expected he
would!”

“ Who are on, and how do you know?”

“ To your n‘st question I hev to say that I’m
'a person, who, heerin’ of the escape of that mur-
derer, hev made up in mind to do what I could
to help catch him. hev been watching him,

‘ since he left the Omaha camp, and I know what

I’m talking about. I saw him take the route
which will lead to your rear. He will then see
you and your men posted here, and will hev no
trouble to avoid you.”

“ What is your name?”

"‘John Henderson, sir.”

“ Well, Henderson, if what you sa is true,
and we succeed in re-arresting that fe low, who
1 may say is guilty of one of the foulest crimes
ever committed, I shall reward you."

“Thank you, sir. Follow me, and I will put
yer in the way of capturin’ him.”

 

CHAPTER VI. .
BAFFLED.

BEADED by Henderson. Lorne and his men
moved swiftly and stealthily through the

grove.

“It seems to me on are taking us a long
distance,” remarked rue, as the man kept on,
.after assing through the grove.

“Its the only way to catch him. He, too, is
:going to take a long, roundabout course."

They kept on in silence. The shadows deep«
ened as they proceeded.

“ There,’ said Henderson, pausing at last near

' asmall valley. “ Here, behind these bushes, we

.will wait for about five minutes, when we will
oee Fireheels pass.”
The five minutes went by and thirty more,
but no sign of Fireheels was to be seen.
Henderson, who had crept away from the
party, saying he would go and look if he could

see any sign of the young hunter, had not yet

returned.

Meanwhile Fireheels, having left the Omaha
camp, hurried along toward the place where he
had agreed to meet Tamina, who now, from his
position in the tree, saw him approaching.

“Ugh!” muttered the Indian. “Tamina will
have the white hunter in a tra , and this shall
be his revenge. He has won t e heart of Lona
away from t e Indian!”

He then descended from the tree, and took his
position nearthe shrubbery, in which he sup-
posed Lorne was still hidden with his men.‘

“Tamlna has waited lo .” he said to the

oath, as he came up. “ e began to think

feds "Stunt commg'ii "a: h a- 111 u
“ alwasee mywor. e rqéy
y “has must be

\

 

Fireheels if,

or, 016. Skin

flint, the Death-Shadow.

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

1

this knife-work between me and one of the I
tribe which are my friends!”

“Fireheels can never be the friend of Tamina,” I
the Indian replied. “Come, let him draw, for
the sun is down, and it is time we commenced 1
the fight.” i

The youth pronounced the last word in a1
loud voice, as it was the signal agreed upon for '
Lorne to rush forth, and seize his prisoner. i
Not a sound, however, was to be heard in the l
bushes. .
Belton drew his knife, and said he was ready. l
Tamina pretended to be looking at his blade, !
as if to make sure it was in good condition, I
when, in reality he was delaying the fight, in
order to give Lorne time to come out of the I
shrubbery.

Seeing no sign of him, he was enraged, and he
now made a sudden rush at his opponent, aim-
ing his knife at his heart. Belton avoided the
thrust by twistinlg himself, and, at the same
time, pricked the ndian in the right arm.

Tamina, with flashing eyes, drew back, and,
perceiving he was no match for the skilled hun-
ter in the use of the knife, he quickly loosened
his tomahawk from his belt, and sent it flying,
with tremendous force, full at the head of his
opponent.

‘he latter dodged quickly enough to avoid I
the flying missile; then he ran at the Indian,
aiming at his arm another blow, which, had it
taken effect, would have disabled the limb for
some time.

But the wily savage avoided the thrust by
gliding behind a tree, and then, suddenly point-
ing full at the youth a pistol, which he pulled
from his pocket, he fired.

The bullet would have passed through the
hunter's heart, had not a strong arm knocked
aside the pistol, ere it was discharged, causing
the shot to take an upward direction!

At the same moment, the young Indian fell
senseless to the earth, as he received a blow
from the butt of a revolver upon his head.

“ Thar, yer are-but the mean skunk hev not
got his deserts, which would be a knife in his
gizzard!” was uttered by the person, who to
Lorne had said his name was Henderson.

Belton saw before him, Wearing a teamsler‘s
frock, a tall, sinewy personage, so thin that he
had the appearance of a gaunt shadow. Al-
though, in reality. not more than forty-two
years of age, he looked as if many years older.

His visage was half—conCeale by a white
beard, which descended to his chest, his nose
was long and straight, his eyes, of a light gray
color, looked almost white. _

“A timel interference,” said the young
hunter. “ hat varmint asked to meet me here
that we might fight out a little trouble of his
own making, with knives. He broke his agree-
ment by first using his tomahawk and then his
pistol. To whom do Iowe my rescue?”

“ M real name is SKINFLINT. This red‘skin
hyar id not mean to fight you at all, but to
lead you in an ambush of Lorne and his men.
They were to come out on you, ’fore the fight
could he in, but I balked the raskil nicely.
bLornf’Pn his party are at least half a mile from

ar

yHe went on to explain.

“ How did you discoVer Tamina’s intentions?”
inquired Bolton.

“I overheard what he said, last night, to
Lorne, when he met him. I was close by in the
shrubbery.”

“You seem to take a kindly interest in my
aflairs, thar’s a fact,” said Belton, holding out
his hand.

A strange, fierce light gleamed in Skinflint’s

e e

y" I b’lieve in helpin’ them that’s in trouble,”
was the answer, “and” he added, in a voice
hoarse with assion, “ I’ve made one vow of
revenge, whic I’d go through coals of fire to
keep. But, come, you are no longer safe in the
Omaha camp.”

Belton fol owed the speaker, who made his
way toward the mountains, looming up in the
distance.

" I know a. cave yonder, whar all the detect-
ives in the universe couldn’t find yer.”

“Thar is manv a cave that, which I know of
myself,” said Fireheels, “but they are also
known to other hunters.”

“ The place I’ll take yer to was never known
to mortal man but me.”

By the time the two reached the mountains
the moon had risen and lighted the dark rocks
wherever they were exposed to her rays. .

Skinflint. raising a small bowlderon the sum-
mit of a clifl, revealed a hollow in which a rope
was coiled. / One end of this rope be fastened to
a projecting rock; then he dropped the other,

 

allowing it to dangle from the edge of tho
ight.

“ Yer kin see a ledge ten feet below us,” he
said. “ Climb down to that ledge and push
aside the bushes thar, and yer’ll see an openin’
which will take yer into a cave.”

“Are you coming?” .,

“Not now. In the cave yer’ll find deer‘l
meat and other things which are useful.”

“Suppose I should want to come out before
you j )in me?”

“ Yer’ll find a sort 0’ rope-ladder thar by
which yer kin reach the rock twelve feet below
the ledge. Come, yer better lose no time in git-
tin’ to yer quarters, for Lorne and his men are
by this arter yer like so many bloodhounds.”

“Upon my word, I think you are very good
to me!” said Belton.

“l hev reason to be.”

“ W hat?”

“ I hev reason, fur I never furgit a kindnes.
Do ver remember a stormy night, one year egg:
when yer saved a gal, which was lost, from
ing captured by savages or froze to death, and
went miles out 0’ yer way to take her to her
home?” \

“ I think I remember something of that kind,"
answered Belton.

“ Well, that gal war my little sister. Mary,"
said Skinfiint in a Voice of emotion. “She war
an angel upon the airth and when I came home
and my wife sh0wed her to me, all safe and
sound, and said that a hunter, calling himself
Fireheels, had saved her and brought her thar
I blessed yer from the bottom 0’ my heart, and
made up my mind that, ef eVer I could sarvo
you a good turn in any way, that l’d do it i”

“The girl must be a pleasant companion to
you.” remarked the other. “ I hope she is well.”

“ No more, fur the love 0’ God I” cried Skin-
flint, in a husky voice. “ Don’t speak of herl”

And, to the surprise of Belton, he saw a big
tear trickling from the eye of this fierce man.

lVithout another word be seized the rope,
descended to the ledge, and entered the cave,
{)helppening of which had been concealed by the

us es.

 

CHAPTER VII.

THE MEETING.
NEXT morning Henderson, or rather Skin-
flint, the latter being his real name, other ed

' from a but which he had made his habitation

since coming to the settlement.

He went straight to Lorne’s abode, and knock-
ed at the door.

An old woman, employed there as housekeep-
er, answered the summons, and asking to see
Mr. Lorne, Skinflint was shown into a hand-
somely furnished parlm

His gray, whitish eyes gleamed fierce] y as he
glanced round him.

“ Rayther bright—rayther bright, fur this
part 0’ the country,” he muttered. “ Thor
things I see must hev cost a heap 0’ money.”

Lorne soon came.

“ A fine trick you played me last night,” he
said, angrily.

“ Don’t understand yer.”

“ You didn’t return, after leading us of! from
the very place where it seems Belton didgfi
that evening. It looks to me as if you did
on purpose.’

“ No, I made a mistake. After Ileft you, I
saw a man stealing alon , whom I thought was
this Belton, and not unti I’d tracked him a lo
distance, did I discover my mistake. When
came back to whar I had left yer, I found that
yer war gone i”

“We waited and waited for nothing,” said
Lorne, “ and might have staid there longer but
for Tamina, who came, at last, and told us that
he and Bel ton had met and fought, and that the
white hunter had run away!” ‘

A scarcely perceptible smiled hovered about
the corners of Skinfiint’s eyes.

“ I repeat,” said Lorne, “ that I believe you
deceived me on purpose, and I mean to have
you arrested.”

“ Do yer?”

“ Yes, i do.”

“I don’t think so. I hev a little letter fur
yer. Hyar it is!” a

As he spoke, Skinflint pulled from his pocket
a crumpled bit of pa r.

“ My eddication ev been neglected, but I
think that was writ by you, as yer name’s
signed at the bottom 1”

Lorne took the note, at which he had no soon-
er gazed than his cheeks blanched and his hand!
trembled.

“ Where did you get this!” he’

“ I found it near the holler in the woods.

whar they tell me the late mu was (10.01%

 

      
       
     
       
   
       
       
       
     
         
   
         
  
   
 

 
 

   
   
    
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
     
   
   
   
    
     
   
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
    
 
   
       
     
     
       
       
       
     
     
     
       
    
 
  

 

 

:1" l ‘3; . - .. . I
i. I H. ‘ -' I
-.

 

I’ireheels; o

 
   

\

r, Skinflint, [the Death-Shadow.

I

 

“ Oh, yes, I remember. I dropped it from
my Beyicket, the other day.”
“ hat’s the meanin’ of its bein’ than, I
only ask fur information, yer know, as I’m
bound as well as you to ferret out all I kin about
the crime.”

“I dropped it, and the wind must have blown
it to where you found it,” quietly answered
Lorne, who had recovered his composure.

“I’ll mention that, after you hev me ar-
rested.”

“ I do not really mean to have you taken up.
I only said so to frighten you a little.”

“ Let me see. that note‘s writ to a. gal or
woman, whose first name is Ellen, I b’lieve.”

“ Oh, so you read the note?”

“I read it—yes, as Well as I could. It ap-
pears to me that the person whom you writ to

ad begged you to come to her, for in the note
yer refuse to go, and, worse than that, threaten
to kill her.”

“ There is no such threat,” said Lorne, looking
surprised. “Besides, I did not send the letter,
after writing it.”

“ Yer say in it that, of she attempts to come
to you, after you refusin’ to go to her, that one
pf, ou”would vanish as if from the face of this
or l

Lorne laughed.

“ Foolish fellow,” said he, “by that I meant
that I would clear out somewhere where she
could not find me.”

“ Was that all? Whar is she, now?” inquired
Skinflint, fixing the steady gaze of his piercing
gray e as full upon the face of Lorne.

The atter, however, preserved his composure.

“You ask me where she is? What business,
pray is that of yours?”

“ fiothin pertik’lar; only when I half know
a thing. I 11 e to find out the rest.”

“ I repeat. then. that this does not in :ny way
concern you as it is an affair of my ow .”

Skinflint bowed his head.

“If I were you, I would not tell any one
about finding this note. It can do no good,” re-
joined Lorne. '

“ It’s queer though, that I should hev found
it by the hollow, whar that gal, Mi Danton,
was killed l”

And, as he spoke, he again turned his white
eyes upon the on man.

“I have tol you dro ped the note.”

“ True! true!" said kinfiint, nodding his
head, while, for an instant a puzzled look came
over his face

“ Don’t be afraid.” said Lorne, misunderstand-
ing the cause. “I promise you I’ll not have
you arrested.” .

“ And couldn’t on do something for me,”
said Skinfiint—“t at is at I promise to say
nothing about the note!"

“ What do you mean?” cried Lorne, sharply.
“My only reason for nesting you not to
amok of finding that worthless old letter, is
t tit might provoke discussion, which would
be anno ing.”

" An again—”

“ Again what! Go on l”

“ Queer suspicions sometimes spring up, yer
know, from small foundation. Now you might
say the wind blowed the letter whar it was
found, when t’other folks would say it was

dro chair I”

“ Heaven l” laughed Lorne. “ What are
you trying to make out?”

“Well, well, responded Skinflint; “ I won’t
speak of it, then.”

“ You spoke of my doing something for you.
What did you mean?”

“I thought yer might put me in the way of
earnin‘ an honest livin’. Facts is. I hevn’t
nothin’ to do at present, an’ of I could only git
hold of monev enou h to buy a pritty jewel like
this,”he added, sud enly pulling adiamond ring
from Lorne’s vest pocket—“I’d be a happy
man.”

“ Give me that ring,” said Lorne, quickly.

Skinfiint, however, had stepped back, and was
coolly examining the ring.

, “ Here,” he then said. presenting it to Lorne.
“ Yer kin hev it. I s’pOse stolen property is
more valleble than any other.”

Andes he spoke he turned his whitish-gray
eyes full n n the face of the young man.

“ Sir! scal! What do you meani”

“ Don’t yer o fur to t in a passion. That
wasapootyrn .bute I war as rich asyer-
self, I don’t thin I’d hev taken the trouble to
stop the carriage and threaten to shoot the
zoning lady who owned that jewel of she refused

ve it to me.”
9 turned pale.
' What are you talking about!" he inquired.

, “Ceine, now, let’s understand each other,”

   

 

said Skinfiint, laughing. “ I see’d the hull thing.
The mask didn’t hide yer face enough fur me not
to git a good squint at it. It all happened four
days ago, and, though no one was killed this
time, the news of the robbery is all over the
country.”

“ You talk like a madman,” said Lorne, with
a surprise which perhaps was assumed. “ How
could you know my face, even had i been there,
at night, with a mask on iti”

“ Don’t yer remember seeing a chap rolled u
in a great overcoat, in one corner of the coach ’
No one molested me, fur you all thought i was
asleep, but sech warn’t the case. You grabbed
me by the throat, and I seemed for to wake up,
but I had the look of one who had been ’toxi-
cated, which I warn’t at all, but only put on,
letting my head bob to one side, and seemin’ to
go to sleep again. Then you left me and went
on robbin the frightened young lady and her
negro servant woman, which was the only pas-
sengers but me in the coach."

Lorne listened to these remarks with a wild,
surprised look.

“I had a good chance to see yer face when
you was so clue to me,” continued Skinflint,
“ and it ain’t easy fur me to forgit faces.”

The speaker now watched the agitated visage
of the young man with an amazed look.

“ Yon’s safe enough, fur all that,” be con-
tinued, after a moment’s pause, “fur who do
you suppose would believe a raganiufiin like me,
a ’in’ seoh a gvntleman, as you, even of 1 war to
b ab on yer, which i kin truly say i hev no in-
tention of doin’. Had I been opposed to yer
work, of course I’d hev told on yer, ’fore now,
so yer needn’t be so terrible down in the month
about it. I don’t know as I blamed yer for rob-
bin’. It’s an easy way to git a livin'.”

The two men looked at each other.

“ I think you and I will agree,” said Lorne.
“ You told me you wanted employment.”

“ Au thing fur an honest living!” and at the
word ‘ onest,’ Skinfiint lau bed.

“First of all, you must he p me track that es-
ca d murderer, and arrest him,” said Lorne.

‘I’ll do that,’ was the emphatic reply.

CHAPTER VIII.
A REVELATION.

WHEN Bolton entered the cave to which Skin-
fiint had conducted him, he noticed that it was
about fourteen feet square in area, and dimly
lighted by crevices in the rocks above.

On the wall hung a couple of good rifles, and,
among other things he saw there, he noticed a
variety of articles for male attire, such as
blouses, jackets, hunting-suits, and different
kinds of hats.

In one corner a heap of soft skin seemed to in-
vite repose.

Before lying down, the youth went to the
opening of the cave and looked out.

By the clear li ht of the moon. he then beheld
a s ectacle, whic at once roused him to action.

eated on a cliff, not fifty paces off, was a
slight, boyish form—evidently that of a travel-
er, as a wallet was slung at his side, and he car-
ried a stout stick.

About twenty yards behind him, a large,
ferocious wild-cat was stealing toward him,
with noiseless pace, evidently to spring upon
him, and make him its victim. The boy, appar-
ently in a reverie, knew nothing of the presence
of this fee, and Belton comprehended that he
could not enlighten him on that point, without
revealing his secret retreat.

Resolved to save the outh at all hazards, he
descended, b means 0 his rope-ladder, from
the cave, an , rifle in hand. advanced until he
reached a favorable position for a shot. Then
he fired, and his unerring bullet passing through
the head of the animal. killed it instantly.

The person who had thus been saved b the
timely shot of the young hunter, present y ad-
vancing to thank the young man. was fully re-
vealed to the latter by the light of the moon,
which was at this place unobscured.

Apparently, not more than seventeen years
0 age, he was of sli ht form. with a profusion
of li ht, brown hair ailing, in natural ringlets,
to his shoulders. His eyes ware very dark, and
his face was extremely pale. It was a hand-
some face. with its fine. regular features, and
yet it was almost haggard in expression, while,
about the month, young as he was, were lines
aszof deep snflering.

A slouched hat which the stranger had_worn
he had raised with One slender hand, while be
extended the other toward his rescuer. _

“Thanks,” he said, in a musical, boyish voice.
“You have saved mv life.” ”

“And glad I am I came up in time to do it,
said Belton.

 

 

 

“I did not know there were such wild-cats in -

this part of the country. I thought the only
dan erous creatures hereabout were robbers.”

" ot only robbers but murderers, too,” re- ‘ '

sponded the hunter. “ Probably you have -
heard of the murder of Mr. Danton’s daughter
—the sweetest gal in these parts!” _

And as he spoke Belton heaved a deepsigh.

The stranger answered, in a hollow vOice: “ l’
hava heard of it.” _

“ Yes, and I believe, now, thar’s devils on the-

face 0’ this earth, though Insed to doubt it.. '-

The man who murdered that gal must hev been
one on ‘em.”
“ How do you know it was a man i” inquiredl
the other, in the same hollow voice as before.
BeltOn was a little startled b the question.
“Shorer no woman could ev done it?” he~
said.
“ Women have done such things,” replied the
other.

The hunter looked closel at the speaker. His -

dark eyes gleamed cold y‘ and steadily-him

expressmn was very sad. .

“How long hev you been in these parts?”
inquired Belton.

“Not long. I would rather you would ask.
me no questions.”

“ But—but—perhaps on’ve not heard that a
certain young man—a unter, was arrested on-
suspicion—that he escaped from prison and that
law officers and others are now searching fur"
him?”

“It is too bad, since he is not guilty! No..
I had not heard of that.”

“It is true; but you say on know he is not
guilt l , How do you know t at!”

“ said I’d rather you would ask me no qua--
tions.”

“Yes, but when I tell you that I am the per-
son accused of the crime, perhaps you‘ll excuse»

,me for not complying with your wishe.”

The dark e es of the stranger scintillated in
the light of t e moon, as he-started and looked.
at the speaker.

“ You, my rescuer, accused of that murder?” '

“Alas! thar’s a fact—I am.”

“ The accusation is falsel I know who killed

the girl!”

“ hen, for the Lord’s sake! go and tell the
justice, and free me from the imputation l” cried
the other.

At that moment half a dozen forms were seen”
approaching, with Lorne at their head.

‘ Here he is men! We have him, now l’?‘
shouted the leader.
And, as he spoke, he leveled a pistol st Belton,
who had not et thought of reloading his piece,.

calling upon im to surrender.

In a moment, however, the stranger, as quick
as a flash, raised his head from behind the rock
near which he had been seated.

The position he occupied now was between
Belton and the pistol, and as he stood with hiss
hat ofi’, his whole visage was distinctly revealed.
to Lorne.

No sooner did the latter see the face thus pre-
sented to his gaze, than he staggered back, his‘
pistol dropping to the ground.

The next moment, dodging amon the rocks.
the boy glided 011’. while Belton a so bounded!
along in another direction.

The hunter finally gained his retreat and drew
up the rope—ladder, while the voices of his pur—-
sue‘rs yet sounded in the distance.

He thought more of the person whom he had
saved from the wild-cat than he did of Lorne-
and his peo le.

The lad had said he knew whohad committed
the crime, and this declaration inspired him-
with a feeling of hope. The young stranger.
knowing that Belton had been fnlsely accused
of the crime, would certainly go to the justice
and make known the truth.

But the conduct of the. youth had been very
strange. After Lorne, for some mysterious.
reason, had been startled by the face of this
lad, the latter had run away, as though he, too,
was anxious to conceal himself!

What could it mean?

If he found it necessary to keep himself hid-
den, What chance was there that he would ven-
ture to make any revelation to the justico!

" I must find him and have further conversa-
ti0n with him,” muttered the hunter.

After a restless night. he rose early and tried'
to pizrtake of some of the provisions in the re-
tfl‘fl a

While doing so he hes-rd the noise of a stone,
thrown up among the bushes over the entraan
of the cave.

Peering cautious! forth, he was surprised
to see Lona, the lad an girl, on the rock below.

. a

  
 

She looked caremlly around her, asifto mat.  9

   

       
       
     
       
   
     
       
    
  
  
   
 
  
 
   
    
   
     
   
   
  
  
  
      
 
  
   
  
  
    
    
    
  
      
    
   
   
  
  
    
  
    
   
 
   
  
   
      
   
    
  
  
     
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
    
  
     

I lated all that had hep

“3.5.

.. \

 

‘ ileum that she was not observed: then she made

a motion for Belton to lower his ladder.

He did so, and the girl soon was in the cave.

“Glad see all safe,” she said. “ The Fire—
heels did wrong to leave the Omaha cam when
he did. He should have known that amina
was la ing a trap for him.”

“ Had I kn0wn it, my good friend, you kin be
shore I wouldn’t hev gone. But how did you
find it all out, for I reckon you now know
eve thing about it?”

“ he hunter is right. Lona met Skinfiint,
and he told her.”

“ Did be send you hyar?”

“ It is true; With this.”

And she presented a scrap of paper to Bel-
ton.
It was as follows:

“DEAR FRIEND:—Things ls goen on well. I’m
shadowin’ a sart‘in person, and hope ’fore long to
cl‘ar er from the accoosation of murder. Don’t

ou ret ef yer don’t sea, fur sum time, yer best

riend, Snmmr.”

“ Whar is Skinfiint now?” inquired Belton.

“ Lona cannot tell. She met him in the woods,
yesterday, and he told her all about you, and
gave her this note.”

“He is keen enough to see that you kin be
trusted.”

“It is true. There is nothing Lona would not
do for the white hunter,” answered the girl, in a
low voice. '

Belton now described to her the mysterious
stranger he had seen the night before, and re-
ned on that occasion.
She listened eager y. Her eyes shone like
stars.

“ Lona very glad,” she said. “ Fireheels soon
all right. The white stranger will go to the
justice and tell all.”

“ Thar’s the trouble! I don't know whether
he will or not. Perhaps, ef you could find him,
you might persuade him to.’

“ Lona will find him,” the girl answered.
“ And she will get him to go with her before the
justice.”

Without another word she quickly descended
the ladder, and as Belton drew it up, he saw her
disappear among the rocks on the other side of
the valley beyoud.

CHAPTER IX.
A SURPRISE.

ON the night following the visit of Lona to
Belton’s cave, two persons wearing1 masks stood
in a clump of shrubbery near t e road then
usually taken by the mail-coach from Virginia
City to Salt Lake. ‘

“ A wagon, you say?” remarked the taller of
the two.

“ Yes, a wagon—a plain we on, and et with
fifty thousand dollars in gold ust hid en in a
bag under the front seat.

" And no uard?”

“Yes, hal a dozen miners, but there’s more
than a bullet for each of them as soon as they
get to the turn of the road yonder, near which
our ten men are posted.”

“Good; tell yer what, Lorne, the better I
know yer, the greater’s my admiration of yer.”

“Never mind your admiration, Henderson.
Now that you havo become one of my band,
your business is simply to obey me, and to help
me in cases where p uck is required.”

“ Well then, after the miners hev all been
ddptAwqat’s t?) be dggzdwith 3110 bodiesg” f

‘ ew s arp as w' soon ispose 0
them. The ground is soft and holes are soon

dug.”
‘ But the wagon and horses?”

“ We’ll set fire to the prairie grass, and burn
them up—horses and all.

“Why, thunder! yer’sa perfect geniusl” said
Sldnfiint. “ But we’ve been heer an hour, and
I don’t yet beer the wagon comin’.”

“ It’ll be along soon.’

“I think I heer it now.
if I kin ‘ twig’ it?” .

“All right, but be careful the miners don’t
see you watching them, or they may suspect
something.”

Bkinfiint glided away as stealthin asashadow,
making no noise with his soft moccasins.

He was soon out of Lorne’s sight, in the
shrubber .which skirted the mad.

Lorne istened, and, in a short time, he heard
the wagon coming. It sooned reached the
turn of the road, but the outlaw heard no shot

ed.

Puzzled to account for this, he crept toward
the spot where he had posted his ten men.

He saw them peering throu h the bushes at,
the wagon, which had stop , but which ap-
parently, contained no riders! '

S’posin’ I go and see

.! Ii

Fireheels; or, 01d Skinflint, the heath-Shadow.

 

 

“Come, you fools, why don’t you rush out
and see what’s the matter?” said the outlaw
chief to his men.

“ We think ther’s some trick fur us!” an-
swered one. “ Them miners mi ht be bid in
the” bottom of the wagin, in wait to surprise
us.

“ To surprise you? and what of it? Are there
not ten of you? “ Come, now, let: us see what
the matter is,” continued Lorne as he moved,
pistols in hand, toward the wagon.

His gang followed him.

He got upon a wheel spoke and looked in.

As he did so, a man thrust his head from un-
der some canvas where he had been lying.

It was Skinflint.

“ Halloa 1” cried Lorne in astonishment.

" Halloa!” echoed Skinflint.

“ What does this meanl” said the other.

“ What doss what mean?” inquired Skinfiint.

“You being here and no miners.”

“ No miners?”

“ Yes, the miners we were going to rob, and
the bag of gold-dust!" cried Lorne im atienlly.

“ Miners and bag of gold-dust ?” said kinflint,
scratching his head in a puzzled fashion. Then,
as his eyes lighted up. he said:

“ It seems to me I do remember somethin’ of
the kind 1”

“ Come, explain yourself," said Lorne.

Skinflint appeared t be reflecting.

“ I hev it now,” he (Idenly cried. “I went
to see at the wagin was comin’ didn‘t I?”

66 Yes. ”

“Well, the miners must hev see’d me peerin’
at ’em, fur I remember somethin’ strikin’ me on
the head, and then I knowed no more till I
found myself in this yere wagin, jist before you
lOoked in it.”

“ You don’t know what became of the
miners?"

“No, but I reckin they’ve gone to git help
from a huntin’-party not fur off, which I no-
ticed in the moonli ht ’fore I was hit, on one of
the hills yonder. hey’ must hev see’d your
men lurkin’ in the brush, and hev guessed what
they were arter.”

“ And so made off with the gold, first put-
ting von in the wagon l”
fl.“tYes, fur safe keepin’, I reckon,” said Skin-

in .

“ What made the horses stop, as they have
just done?”

“ Yer must ask the hosses ’bout that,” re-
plied Skinflint. ’

i“ It seems ver strange ” cried Lorne.

“Stranger things hev happened ’fore now.
Ker-whoop! hyar they come, and we’ll all be
hanged of we don’t take leg-baill” added Skin-
flint, as a distant shout was heard, and a band
of hunters, followed by the miners, were seen
approaching from\the direction of the hill he
had , inted out.

“ ome, men, we’ll havo to streak it now!”
said Lorne.

Followed by his companions, he hurried
throu h a narrow gully, leading into the heart
of a ense thicket.

Finally the gang entered a. rock cave, which
the often use for a temporary s elter.

'l‘ e Opening they closed with a howlder,
which would prevent any person near the place
from guessing that a cave was there.

Skinflint accompanied the others to their
place, whence the gang finally set out for this
regular rendezvous among the mountains.

CHAPTER X.
THE MYSTERIOUS WITNESS.

AFTER leaving Belton, Lona repaired to her
camp. '

A few minutes later Tamina also made his ap-
pearance.

The girl looked at him closelfy. . .

“ Why does Lona watch me ’he said, coming
close to her side.

“ Lona would like to know where Tamina has
been,” she answered. '

The trul h was she suspected that the youth
hed been tracking her, and she thought she could
make sure of it by his manner when she ques-
tioned him.

It is nothing to Lona where he has been,” was
the sullen answer.

She at once inferred that, missing her from
:hie1 caimp, Tamina had tried to find her, but had

a e .

She went to her tent, and soon was fast asleep.

Tamina also repaired to his tent, but not to
sleep. His eyes were flashing like coals of fire.
and his mouth was set as if with some fierce

purpose.
‘The time has at last come!” he muttered.
“ Tamina is no longer an Omaha. No, his heart

 

 

is turned from the tribe who have given shelter
to his worst enemg. His mother was of the
Snake tribe. The nakes are now the fees of
the Qmahas, but they shall be the friends of
Tamina. He will go tothe Snakes, and t ere
he Will seek another squaw. But Lona , ll
never be the wife of the white hunter. I have
said it. I will prove my words.”

An hour later, when all the Indians in the
camp except himself were asleep, he stole to
Lona’s tent. Looking round him to make sure
he was not observe (l, he glided into the shelter.

The girl was fast asleep. Through a small
creViee iii the tent the light of the moon fell
upon her long, black hair, which streamed over
her shoulders.

For a moment the youn Indian gazed upon
her; then he drew a long nife from his belt,
and stealthin approached her.

Kneeling down by her side, he raised his
deadly weapon, holding it directly above her
pain-1t, so that the blow should be sure and
8 a .

The blade was about to be driven to the bail;
in Lona’s beautiful bosom, when the Indian felt
a grasp like that of steel upon his wrist, and his
hand was pulled aside, causing the knife to de-
scend into the ground.
flTurning, the savage beheld the visage of Skin-

”) u

“ You war out of yer reckinin’, that time, In-
jun!” cried the hunter.

“ Ugh! Knife go in you, first!” grunted Ta-
mina, enra ed.

But, ere e could lift the wen n, he felt the
cold muzzle of a revolver at his end.

“ I’m not onprepared,” said Skinflint, quietly.

The noise awoke Lona, who at once rose,
staring, in surprise, at the two intruders.

“ What means this?” she said.

“It means that this chap war a-goin’ to kill
yer by stickin’ yer, as at yer war nothin’ more’n
a pig. I hev been follerin’ him to See which
way he went, thinkin’ he might be tryin’ to cut
up some shine I didn’t want him to.”

He gave Lona a significant glanceas he spoke,
and she understood him, knowing that he had
tracked Tamina, in order to see if he should
detect the cave in which Belton was hidden.

“Arter follerin’ him some time, I saw him
fetch up in this camp. I hung about ,a little
while, when, the fast thing I knowed, he comes
out of his own tent and makes fur yourn. I
suspected he meant mischief, and it seems I
was right. Glad I came in time to purvent his
work.’

“ So Tamina would kill Lona!” said the girl,
addressing the youth. “Why did he—”

But ere she could finish the sentence, the ln-
dian, by a quick movement, broke from Skin-
fiint’s grasp, which had been a little relaxed,
and rushed out of the tent.

“ Let him go,” said the hunter, carelessly, to
the girl. “I reckin you’ll find him good rid-
dance. But yer better be keeriul, as he may
hang about hyar, tryin’ to git another blow at
yer with his knife.”

“Lona is not afraid,” she answered. “But
she thanks the white man for saving her life.”

Skinfiint having spoken a few more words,
took his departure, “hen the brave Indian irl,
again lying down. went to sleep, as if not ing
had happened to disturb her. ,

At dawn she rose, and after breakfast, start-
ed on a hunt for the mysterious youth, who had
met Belton, on the night before, and had said

'that he knew who had killed the young lady

found murdered in the woods.

Lona after a long and diligent search, found
certain tracks of small feet on the ground.

She looked at them narrowly as she followed
the trail, until at length she lost all trace of
them where they terminated among rOCks.

She. however, kept on, but she had not pro—_

ceeded far when the ring of a rifle saluted her

ears, not far off, and she heard a bullet pas -

over her head.

Turning, she beheld Tamina. making of! at
full speed. holding a smoking rifle in his hand.

“So he is determined to kill Lona,” mut-
tered the irl. “We shall see. The Omaha
braves she] soon be on his track 1”

As she spoke she saw a youthful stra
whom she had not presiously noticed, run g
in Soirection opposite to that pursued by the
n ian.

That this was the (person whom Belton had
spoken of, and wishe her to see, she did not
doubt, so, with the speed of a deemshe ran
after, and soon overtook him. »

The lad, as she confronted him, pulled his 7

slouched hat further down over his eyes.
“ Lona would speak with the white boy,” she

‘s

 
   

      
  

 

\

. righ t.”

i “ You shall do it!” cried Lona, with energy,

I . » “Was 1: Frank Bolton?”
. ' r,

a, ..

. «14'.

J r. .,.
‘7 

 

r W... .
l ’0' _ .
u '

 

 

“No need of thanks,” was the answer. “I
saw him aim the rifle at you, and fortunately,
. I was near enough to run up behind him and
knock up the piece, just as he was pulling the
trigger, thus causing the bullet to pass over
your headl Then I made off, and was glad to
see him go the other way, for I thought he
would try to wreak vengeance on me for saving
you.
_ “ That is why he ran,” anSWered Lona, point-
‘mg to a party of the Oman-as, who were ap-
proaching.

“I am glad of it. I have seen enough of
death 1”

He shrugged his shouldtrs, and turned pale as
he spoke.

“ Where has the white boy Seen it?” inquired

na.

The youth started, and looked at her keenly
from under the rim of his slouched hat.

“ Why do you ask?" he inquired.

“Lona. would like to know. She believes
that he means the murder of the white girl
when he speaks of death. Is not that so?”

“ Yes, you are right,” the other answered,
after a moment’s hesitation.

“Did the white boy see who murdered the
girl?”

“ I did.”

“ Who was it?”

A flush, as of anger, appeared on the lad’s
cheeks.

“ You question me too closely,” he said, im-
patiently.

“The life of an innocent man is in danger,"
replied Lona. “He has been accused of the
crime. You know whom I mean. You saw
him last night.” ‘

" That young hunter?”

“ Yes. You know he did not do the deed?”

“ Oh, yes.”

“Then, to clear him, and get him out of
trouble, the white boy should go before the jus-
tice, and tell who killed the girl.”

The lad bowed his head.

“No, I cannot do that,” he said.

“The white boy should do it. It would be
‘ Still I cannot.”

stnm ing one little foot.

“ ou cannot compel me against my will.”

And he turned away, which, however, he had
scarcely done, when, taking a small willow
whistle from her pocket, Lona blew upon it a
shrill- blast.

In an instant the band of Omahas, who had
started in pursuit of Tamina, turned and hasten-
ed toward the girl.

The boy, seeing them coming, quickened his
pace along the inclined precipice which he was
obliged to descend to reach an unobstructed
path below.

By the time he arrived there. hOWever, the
Omahas were only a few paces off.

“ Do not hurt the white boy!” shouted Lona,
“ but let him be made prisoner!”

The youth, perceiving he could not escape,
stood motionless.
h_Lona came up as her people surrounded

1m.

“ Wh has Lona had the pale-face captured?”
inqui Wono, the chief. “We are at peace
with the whites.”

She soon e lained. 1

“He must taken to the justice,” she said.
“ He should be made to tell a1 he knows about
the murder.”

“ Good 1” said the chief. “The Omahas are
glad if they can hel their friend, Fireheels.”

“You may as we l let me go,” said the boy.
“ I shall tell nothing.”

The Indians, however, accompanied by Lona,
conducted the boy to Logv‘ille.

The appearance of the band with their pris-
oner created some excitement among the
inhabitants of the settlement, and a crowd of
men and boys followed them to the house of
Justice Bole. ,

The latter came to the door.

“What is this?” he inquired.

Lona explained, and two of the Indian
followed by the girl, were permitted to lea
the risoner into one of the rooms.

“ hat is your name?” inquired Bole.

“Charles orner,” was the answer.

“You saw the lperson who killed the young
lady-saw him ki her?”

‘t I did.” i

' “And you know his name?”

“I do. ,

. '“What was it?”

I MhéeIsinr, ’oiajf'siaaniat,

 

‘ “ I refuse to answer that question.”

  

 

a

 

[L No.)’

“ You refuse to tell who it was?”

“ I do,” was the firm reply.

“ Do you know that such refusal is a crime?—
that you can be locked up for it.”

" I am aware of that.”

The justice scratched his nose thoughtfully.

“ I have a suspicion,” said he, “ that this is
all a trumped-up story to screen that hunter,
Frank Beltou, who, it is evident, is really the
guilty party. Do you know where Belton is?"

“ I do not.”

“ Humphl I have another suspicion,” contin-
ued the justice, looking keenly at the youth,
“ and that is, that it was through your conniv-
ance this Bolton escaped from prison.”

“ I had nothing to do with it,” was the reply.

“I must have my friend. Mr. Lorne, here, to
see what he thinks of this affair,” said Bole.

He turned to his clerk, a boy of about seven-
teen, and told him to bring Lorne to the house.

The clerk at once departed on his mission,
Bole having first drawn him to one side and
whispered to him.

few moments later two stout men ap-
pcared.

“You willikeep guard over this boy in the
next room,” he said. “You can withdraw,”
he continued, addressing Lona and the two In-
dinns. “ We have no further use for you.”

The Indians left the room and went back to
their camp.

The windows of the apartment to which young
Forner was now conducted, overlooked a path,
bordered by shrubbery, leading through a gar-
den to a small gate, in a high board fence.

Both window 5 Were open, affording a view of
the distant mountain scenery, now growing dim
in the twilight.

E-ich of the men placed himself by an open
window, and looked out.

“ Here comes Mr. Lorne,” said one, a quarter
of an hour later.

Forner started, and turned deathly pale. He
gazed at the figure of the youth who was
approaching, until it was hidden by a neighbor-
ing fence.

Then be bounded to one of the windows, leap-
ing through it ere the man stationed there could
raise a hand to stop him.

The window was but nine feet above the
ground, and the boy, unhurt by his leap, sped
rapidly along. I

“ Stop, there,‘ stop!” shouted one of the men,
raising a pistol “and pointing it toward the
shrubbery, “or I’ll fire. After him, Jacki” he
added to his companion.

But ere J ack could go, the door was quickly
Opened by the justice.

“ hat’s the matter?"

“ at boy has esca ed,” answered the man
with the pistol. “ She l I fire at him?”

“No use now,” answered the justice. “ You
would not be apt to hit him, as you cannot see
him.

“ I think I can catch up to him,” said the
man who had been culled Jack.

He was about to spring to the ground when
Bole stopped him.

“ No use,” he repeated.
ed-up affair—that story of his, anyway.
see about looking him up tomorrow.”

The men withdrew, after which the 'ustice,
rather pleased than otherwise at ornerjs
Escape, returned to his room, rubbing his

ands

Soon after Lorne appeared, and to him Bole
described what had latel taken place.

The face of the youth airly turned blue.

“ You say he declared that he saw the person
who killed the girl?”

“Just so.” and the justice laughed incredu-
lously. “Of course, it is a story invented to
screen Belton—the really guilty party.”

“Oh. of course,” said Lwrne; “or else the
witness you speak of must have been a little in-
Bane.”

“ He appeared to be sane enough. At all
events. he was enough so to get away.

And again the justice laughed.

“You baVe sent no one in pursuit of him?”

“ Certainly not. It was not necessarV. . To a
person of my penetration. the whole aflair was
plain enough. We do not want this boy. HIS
testimony Would be worthless—hey?”

“Of course it would. In mv opinion, there
can be no doubt that Belton is the guilty party.
That Indian girl. Lona, was always friendly to
the hunter, and she has got this ho to come
and testify solely for the purpose 0 shielding
Bolton.”

“ M bwn opinion exactly ”

“Still, if you think the boy really told the
truth,” added Lorne. “ You—”

“ It was all a trump-
I Will

é. bungalow. ' 7

 

“No, no, sir. It would be mere waste '
time.”

“ You say he would not tell who the 

was that—that he saw kill the girl?”

“ Exacrly—that of itself prOVes there was no '

truth in his stor .”

“Yes, 1 did not think of that.”

“ In my
thing,” sald Bole, with an important air. “Not
the slightest trifle escapes my notice.”

“ Truel you certainly are well fitted for your
position."

“ And I may sa ,” responded Bole, cordially
grasping Lorne’s and—“ that your apprecia-
of my worth is of more consequence to me even
than my salary !”

“I am lad to hear you say so,” responded
Lorne, “ or on st of the people of Logville
being poor, there has been some talk of reduc-
ing your salary a trifle, and—”

“ Not to be thought of—not to be thought of
for a moment!” cried the justice, excitedly.
“ This idea must be put down—must be
crUshcd at orCeS”

And Bole stamped the floor, as if to crush it,
then and there.

“ I was going to say that I would use my ut-
most efforts to oppose the measure,” said Lorne,
“ and not only that, but would try to have your
Wages increased 1”

BUR-“S visage fairly beamed.

“ If ewr there was a man of unsullied honor,
sir—a man of the most spotless integrity—a
man of—”

“That will do, sir, you overpower me,” said
Lorne.

A few momentslater he had left the house.

CHAPTER XI.
THE CBAINED CAPTIVE.

“ THE hypocrite,” thought Lorne, as he walk-
ed along. “Still he is just the man I want to
hold the position he does, and I must try to in-
crease his salary. But he is a disgusting wretch
in some things. ’

The youth moved on until he reached his
house. He remained there only a few minutes,
when, having whispered to the old woman who
acted as'his servant and housekeeper, he quitted
the building. he bent his way toward the
mountains, a as he hurried on, he was not
aware that he‘ was being followed.

It was the boy, Forner, who endeavoring to
keep him in sight. glided along behind him,
now and then dodging under a bush or a rocky

 

projection, when it chanced that the young

outlaw turned his head.

Finally. going into an old, dilapidated-look-
in hut, Lorne disappeared from the gaze of his
f0 ower.

The boy, however, he ton, and, at last, when
close to the habitation, e peered into it.

But he could discover nothing of the person
who had entered it.

Surprised at this, Forner looked around him.

The light of the moon streamed into the but,
but the lad could see no place which could con-
ceal the form of the outlaw.

He looked at the ground, which was of hard
glaykperfectly smooth, apparently, without a

ren .

“ This is strange enough,” he thought.

He was about to go out, and conceal himself
behind a rock, in a position which would sfl'ord
him a view of the interior of the but. when he
fancied he heard low voices directly beneath
his feet.

Instantly the truth was made evident to him.
There was a trap door, probably covsred by the
hard cla , in the floor.

He waited until he could no longer hear the ‘

voices, when, stooping, he felt about the ground.

At length half buried in the clay, he touched

a )icce of rope.

ulling upon this, he raised a small tra 001',
which, as he had divmed, had been hid on by
the cla that covered it.

The oy now beheld the floor of a pit, about
four feet beneath him.

He descended into it. to find himself in front
of an opening, be and which was a pass: 6,
slanting downwar . A dim light showed h m
that this passage was rocky, evidently leading
into some chamber or vault below, where a
lamp shed a faint light.

Movin along the passage, he soon came to
this van t. and saw the lam , which was placed
in a niche in the rocky welt

The sound of voices fell upon his ear. He saw
a door and. peerim: through a crevice. he beheld
a large cavern. in which were seated about
twenty fierce-looking young men, with Lorne

 

among them.
“ A robbers’ den," thought Forner.

capacity of justice I think of every- ‘

      
    
 
      
       
   
   

   
      
     
   
   
  
   
     
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
   
 
     
   
   
 
     
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
   
 
  
   
  
     
  
   
    
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
 
  
     
     
   
   
   
    

Ar,

They-heels); or,  Skinflint, the Death-Shadow.

 

 

.2 ye had noticed another door in the side of the
 he had traVersed, and now, seein

 rne approaching, he darted toward it and
' tried to open it.

But the door was locked, and finding he ould

v not open it, the boy shrunk into an alco in

3 I the wall, hoping he Would thus escape the

- notice of the outlaw, in case he should come

into the passage.

In fact Lorne did come out. He walked as
far as the door which the lad had found locked,
and takin a key from his pocket, he opened it.

Forner instantly emerging from the alcove,
followed the youth, who was now moving
downward along a rocky passage which was in
total darkness.

At length he paused in a small vault, and the
be also stopping, heard the clanking of a chain.

e could just make out the dim outline of a

female form in front of Lorne, who stood op-

posite a corner of the dungeon.

i. “I hope it is a friend this time who has come
to free me,” was uttered, in the piteous voice
of a girl.

“Yes, I am a friend to you, as you well

v know,” answered Lorne. “ Consent to what I

, , proposed and you shall be freed.”

“ Ah, Heaven help me; it is the same old
story,” said the girl, “but my answer is the
same as before. on will never obtain from
me any other!”

“ You will die here.”

“ Be it so. Welcome real death,‘rather than
a living death with a man I detest.”

“You shall have your wish. I will not loosrn

, you from the chain—will not free you from the

vault, unless you'consent to go away with me
and become my wife.” '

At these words Forner clutched a protuber-
ance on the rock, as if to save himself from fall-
ing. He felt dizzy, and pressed one hand tight-

, 1y upon his breast.

-, KM ‘ “ will make you a good husband,” continued

Lorne. “As you know, i am a man of means,

, v .and your every wish shall be gratified.”

 “Away!” was the reply. “Leave me, and

I ' never come near me again. I accept death, ra-

ther than you I”

Lorne turned away with a. cry of anger, and
, I  so quick were his in ivements that Forner, stand-
;  ing with his back pressed in a hollow of the

,1  wall, had no time to make his escape, as he had
,1; - intended to do ere the young man should start
' *’ on his return.

Owing to the gloom the boy was not seen, and
the outlaw left the passage as he had come, lock-
:ingIthe door after him.

orner bowed his head upon his hands and

 ,, shuddered.

1; “ Who is there?” came the faint voice of the

i  ‘ chained girl.

_’  The boy did not answer.

:1; The uestion was repeated.

' ‘5‘ “ It s I,” replied the youth.

-,;:’ “ You are not one of the band i”

v)“: 4‘ No.”

’3]. “ Then, for God's sake—”

. A,» Ere she could say more, the door at the end
of the passage was cautiously opened, and some
one entered.

Forner shrunk close to the wall until the per-
son who had come in had passed him; then he
glided to the door and made his escape.

He soon gained the hut, and leaving it, he
hurried along. .

“ Another, zen there is another 1” he muttered,
clinching his ands and speakin in a voice of
intense'an uish. “ I care not w at becomes of
me now. tter to end this misery at once 1”
he added, as the_ norse of a. rushing torrent
ahead fell upon his ears.

Afew minutes later he gained the bank of
the torrent.

“Now, then, farewell to life!” he cried, as he
plunged into the stream. a

The swift waters bore him along toward the
brink of a precipice. over which they flowed,

. and in another moment he must have been
dashed to death upon the rocks below, had not
his arms been seized by some one near the edge
of the cataract.

 This person pulled him upon a flat rock, and

. t- , the moon, which was now shining, showed him
that his preserver was the iodine girl, Lona.

,  g “ Why did you save me! Why not let me

, ‘  meet the fate which was of my own seeking?"

‘ ‘ . he inquired.

,_ “The white boy talks like a. squawl Wh
~ should a boy of his years want to end 11ng

lifei‘
“ Believe

  

   

 

ft
.1



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A 

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a.
t. .
4,.

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W: a x)
, .‘j‘g-Lflyx‘

 

 

 

_/

“ Do not ask me,” groaned Forner.
me then b, when I say that you have (has me
', no vor- y saving my life.” «

M “Thoboyhasasofthou't. Oneothisyears

 

 

 

should not be crushed by sorrow. It is very
strange!”

“Tell me if you can,” said Forner, clasping
his hands tightly—“ tell me who she is I”
“ Oi’ whom does the young pale-face speak f”

The eyes of the boy gleamed wildly.

“Of tln- girl! the girll the one in that rocky
dungeon!“ LG cried.

“ Lona knows of no dungeon.
boy lost his mind!”

“No! no! [tell you she is there!” repeated
Forner, “ and he wants her—ho wants her to be
his wife.”

Then he went on raving incoherently, and
Lona pPrCé'lved that he was in a delirium.

“ Come,” she said, gently.

She grnSped his hands, he staggered to his
feet, and the Indian girl conducted him to the
camp of the Omahas, which had lately been
moved nearer to the mountains. There he was
placed on a couch of skins in a tent, and a skill-
l'ul doctor of the tribe attended him.

For three days he Was in a burnin feVer, but
on the fourth he was much better. e wanted
to leave the Indian camp, but Lona, fearing
that he might- again attempt to destroy himsdt',
advised her peOple to persuade him to remain
with them.

The Indians, therefore, would not let him go,
urging as a. reason, that he was too weak to do
so

 

Has the white

The remarks of the boy about a girl in a dun-
geon had great] impressed Lona. Although he
had spoln n while dc—lirioUs, yet she could not
help thinking that there might be some truth in
his srntcments, and as he had morn than once
mentioned the name of Lorne, her curiosity and
ilmi'o-st had been monsed.

0:. making a search, she discovered the but
which, among other things, the lad had men-
tioned during his ravings.

“ Leda always thought Lorne was a bad man,
and now she is almost sure of it,” muttered the
girl on the morning she saw the hut. “ The
boy spoke of a band of men with him, in a rocky
cave. Those cannot be good men. They must
be robbers.”

S no entered the hutand looked about her, but,
as Forner had not mentioned the secret trap-
door, she did not discover it.

Leaving the hut, she mounted the high rock,
leigairlist which it was built, and examined it

een .

szuy she saw a crevice or fissure in the top
gfxijt, large enough to admit a slender human

Y

She kneeled, and looked down into it, but all
was darkness below, so that she could not see to
the bottom of it.

She Went back to the camp, procured a long
rope, and with it returned to the rock.

astenin one end of the rope to a. projection,
she descen ed into the cavity.

The sides of this were so rugged and contain-
eiiiso many knobs that she might almost ave
c mbed down them without the assistance 0 the
rope.

Aftedr going about thirty feet, she touched

nun .

The li ht here was very dim. She found her-
self In a arge vault, which, beyond her position,
was in complete darkness.

Cautiously moving forward, she fancied she
heard heavy breathing, as of some person in a.
profound sleep.

She kept on, and finally took from her pocket
a match, which she lighted.

The brief gleam fell upon the face and form
of a young girl, who, with a. chain about her
middle, lay fast asleep on a pallet of straw.

A low cry of astonishment escaped Lona’s lips,
and the match dropping from her hand, was
extinguished.

At the same moment, she heard a. door open
and the outlaw, Lorne. with a lamp, entered
the passage. the rays of the light falling full
upon the. person of the Indian girl, at once re-
vealing her to his gaze.

She sprung to the place where her rope hung.
but, ere she could commencs her ascent, Lorne
was there pointing a pistol toward her.

“Heb! you are nicely caged, and you shall
not leave t is lace in a hurry,” he said. “ Come
down, before flre.”

Lona dropped lightly to the ound.

“I know you, now. You be man 1” she said,
eying him steadily.

The young outlaw laughed.

“ You’ll have to keep that to yourself. at any
rate,” he replied. “ I have you in my clutches,
and I am glad of it.” ,

Lona was unarmed. The youth, with some
cords, picked up from one side of the vault,
made her hands fast behind her back. Then he

 

pushed her into a pit, about seven feet deep,
near the spot where the two stood.

He next climbed by the rope the girl had used
to the top of the rock.

“ I must stop up this place,” he muttered. “ I
thought to leave the opening as it is, forthe
sake of the fresh air, but I think a less quanti-
ty of air will do.”

He rolled a bowlder over the fissure, so that
only two narsz creviCes, on each side of it,
were left; then he returned by way of the but
to the dungeon, which he had previously en-
tered to convey some food to his girl captive.
The food consisting of bread and water, be de-
posited by the slumberer then he left the
dungeon, locking, as usual, the heavy wooden
door after him.

_.__—

CHAPTER XII.

A RusE.

IT was Skinflint whom Forner had noticed,
entering the passage li-ading into the dungeon.

The darkness had prevented the youth from
seeing his face, and, had also hindered the
man from detecting the boy as he crouched
against the wall.

Scarcely had the lad reached the but, when
Lorne returned to the passage, looking down as
if searching for something.

As he approached the door leading into the
dungeon, he was startled to perCcive that it was
a or.

JHe at once entered, to distinguish the outlines
of a man’s form, ahead of him.

ln a moment he had pounced upon this man,
seizing him by the collar.

“ Who are you?” he cried.

“ What don’t yer know yer own friend?” said
Skinflint.

“ thut are you doing here, Henderson?
What right had you to come to this place? You
found my key, which I dropped, and have been
looking for.” _

“Yes. I found yer key, and that’s how I got
in beer,” was the answer. “ Let go my collar,
ef yer please.”

“ Give me that key, or I’ll throttle you!” said
Lorne.

“ Easy. thar, easy,” cried Skii-flint as be
pressed the muzzle of a revolver against Lorne’sx
temple. “By the ’tarnal! ef yer don’t let go
of me, yer’s a dead dog!”

Lorne at once released the hunter.

“ Giv» me the key,” be repeated.

“ In good time,” answered Skinflint, but fust
I want to hev a little talk with yer. Who is
that gal I kin jest make out, ahead on us,
tied to the wall, with a chain round her?”

“ That’s none of your business. It is my own
afl'air!”

“ Quick! light a lamp, and let me see her, or
it’ll be the worse fur yer l”

Lorne, who had left his pistols in the other
cave, reluctantly complied. He lighted a small
lamp, in a bracket on the wall.

The features of the girl now. were plainly re-
vealed to Ski! flint.

“ Who are you. miss?” he inquired.

But the youn woman, who stood leaning
heavily against t e wall, made no ugly.

“ I see: the poor gal, whoever e is, has
fainted; her eyes are closed.”

“She is m sister—a person who is subject to
fits. I’m 0 liged to keep her chained in this
way, for being insane, she is very violent and
would kill me if she were at liberty.”

“ Humph!” granted Skinflint. “ That’s o
strange way to treat a sister. I wouldn’t treat
mine so i" ,

Lorne was startled by the fierce expression of
his companion’s eyes as he said this.

“I think we’d better set the gal tree,”'con—
tinned Skinflint advancing toward her.

“ No, no,” said Lorne. “ I tell you she would
give no trouble.”

“We’ll see, at any rate,” was the answer.
“ It 3093 a’gin’ my natcr to hev a poor thing like
that chained to a wall."

As he spoke he gained the girl‘s side, and
looked closely at her face.

“ You say she‘s yer sister, and she doesn’t look
a bit like yer,” cried the hunter.

Something came whizzing through the air,
iind the speaker dropped to the ground, sense-
ess.

Lorne had picked up a stone, and had hurled
it .at Skinflint, with a force which would have
caused it to crush his skull, ha . not the missile
struck his head slantingly

" Heb! hahl my fine e low,” muttered Lorne.
“We’ll see if ou’ll have your own way herel?’

He looked own at the prostrate man, and
wrenched from his grasp t e revolver he still'
held.

 

       

«y.-

 

 

 

 

1

10‘

,I ' 1'  . x,‘ .‘

  

  

.‘i'

 

M , \

 

Then he pointed the weapon at the hunter’s
head

“One pull on the trigger would send him to
eternity! he muttered. “ I have had my
doubts of the feilOw’s good faith, from the first.
He knows too much about me, an:i-—”

At that moment some one touched him on the
arm, and, turning the young outlaw beheld one
of his hand.

“You must not kill him, captain,” said the
man.

“How do you know I intended to, Jasper?”

“You looked as if you was a- oin’ to, that’s all
I know; but ou mustn’t—at east not until he
pays the the ebt he owes me.”

“ A debt?”

“ Yes,” answered J as
dred dollars, which be
this ver day l”

“Floo i do you think he ever meant to pay

oui’

“ Oh, yes, I’ve parfect faith in his honor.”

“ Honor!" repeated Lorne, laughing, “ who
talks of honor, here ?”

“ Ther’s no doubt ’bout his bein’ an honorable
thief," was the rep! .

“Well,” replied orne “I must own that I
had thoughts of killing him, for, in my opinion,
he’s a sort of traitor. We must shut him up
somewhere, or the first thing we know, he’ll be
betra ing us all.”

“ hat makes you think so?"

“ I have watched him sharply.”

“ Where shall we put himl’

“ We will lock him up, for the present, in
one of the rooms of the caVe. Go and bring

r, " he Owes me a bun-
ost at cards with me,

. some men to carry him there.”

Jasper went away, to soon return with
several stout fellows.

They picked up Skinflint, and conveyed him
through the lar er caVe into one not much
wider than a be er’s oven. It was rovided
with a wooden door, which was now s at upon
the senseless man and locked.

“There i” said Lorne. “Now we will have a
talk about the fellow and I think I here have
evidence enough to show that he is a traitor.”

At these words all the gang gathered about
the speaker. They were three-looking fellows,
most of them under twenty-two ears of age.

Lorne, who had rummaged Skinflint’s pockets
ere he was carried to the rocky cell, had found
an old note-book, on one of the leaves of which
was written:

“Things is workin’—reckin I will spot this
cussed chap—’fore long i” ,1

When Lorne read this, he said that the
“chap” stood for him and that by spotting
him, the man must have meant he would be-
tray| him.

ere were diflerent opinions among the gang

on this subject, but the majority thought their
captain was right.

‘ We’ll talk the thing over until to-morrow,”

, said Lorne “and I have no doubt you will all

conclude that our best course will be to get him
out of the wav !”

1lileanwhile Bkinfiint, still lay senseless in the
ca .
Some minutes elapsed ere he came to.

At first he was a little confused, but he soon
remembered what had lately happened.

As the gang spoke in loud veices, outside, he
could hear the proposition made to take his life,
on the marrow.

His li ht gray eyes flashed and a scornful
smile a ded to the ugliness of his visage.

“We’ll see about that,” he muttered. “At
any rate, thar’ll be some trouble ’fore it’s
done!”

As he spoke he pulled from a concealed pocket
another revolver, precisely like the one which
had been taken from him.

“I didn’t come into this ’farnal den ’thout
takin’ a few precautions,” he continued.

Late at night he heard some one unlocking
his deor. The next moment the young rufiian,
Jas r, entered.

was armed with a pistol.

“ Halloa!” said Skinflint. “ I s’pose yer’ve
come to kill me. I thought it was to be put ofl
until to-morrow!”

“I’ve not come for that. I’ve come fur the
payment of what you owe me. If they should

i! you to—morrow, how am I to git my
money?”
h “It’s a wonder to me Lorne let yer come in

ear.

“ Mum’s the word. He’s gone out, and most
of the gang is aslee . Fortunately I had a key
of my own to fit t e lock of the door, as the
room used to be mine for sleepin’ in.” ,

“Suppose I give you your hundred dollars.
Will you make no alarm of I try to git away?”

 

“ You couldn’t git off. No use of yer thinkin’
of that, fur to-night ther’s some of the gang on
guard in the outer hut.”

“ Never mind that.”

“ Well, then, it’s ag’in’ m Principles to let
Ker go. It wouldn’t do. g’ti !, ef yer could

and over three hundred, or promise yer’d give
it to me in the futur’, I might think over what
yer say.”

“You ask too much. I hev yer hundred
dollars snug enough, but jest please shet that
door, while I count it out to yer."

Jasper closed the door, when, plunging a hand
into a secret cket of his coat, Skinfiint drew
forth a roll 0 bills.

He counted out a hundred dollars.

“ Heer you are,” he. said. “ Now I hope you’ll
let me go.”

“No. none of that,” said Jasper, as be locked
the door and put the key in his pocket. “Yer
seem flush of money, Henderson. Come, now,
how much may yer hev about yer?”

“It’s none 0' yer bizness, but I don’t mind
tellin’ an honest chap like yerself that I hev
five hundred about me in all. ’

“ And do yer mean to say yer life ain’t worth
two hundred? Come, give me that, and I’ll let
yer go.”

As he spoke there was in his eyes a peculiar
ex ression which did not escape the notice of
Skinfiint. It was a fierce, greedy look, like that
of a wolf.

“ Poor fool,” thought Skinflint, “ he thinks I
don’t see through him. Thar gOes his band now
inhis breastpocket, feelin’ fur the stiletto he
carries thar.”

The prisoner had guessed rightly.

Jasper, on seeing the money, had said to him-
self, mentally:

“ What is to hinder my saving Lorne the
trouble of killin' this chap, by doin’ the bizness
myself, now 7 The captain will not be put out
—he Will only thank me fur it, and I shall git
hold of ev’ry cent of Henderson’s money with-
out any one bein’ the wiser. I’ll not use the
revolver—that would make a noise and bring
all the gang beer ’fore I could find the secret
pocket where the mone is kept.”

As the idea crosse his mind, he walked
round behind Skinflint, and drew his stiletto,
intendin to deal him the death-blow between
the shou ders.

Before he uld give the blow, however Skin-
flint, sudden y turning around, brought his
clinched fist against the side of Jasper's head
with a peculiar ‘ back-hand ’ movement.

As the man was falling senseless, the risoner
caught him in his arms, and gently lai him on
the floor.

“ He’s not quite sech a shadow as me, but our
clothes ’11 go on each other,” thought the
hunter.

Taking of! his long blouse and wide-rimmed
felt but he put them on the prostrate man as
soon as he had removed the coat and hat of the
outlaw. The latter’s hat was of a light color,
considerably wider in the rim than his own.
He put it on his head, and also donned the
gra coat. Then, having turned the fellow over
on isside, and having pulled down the front
of the hat, so as to conceal his face, he quietly
left the cell, locking the door after him.

Some of the outlaws, who ware awake, saw
him, but as he imitated the swaggering gait of
Jas r, their suspicions were not aro .

filling his way through the passage to the
gran-door, he raised it and came out into the

ut

“ Halloa! Jasper, where are you bound to, at
this time of the night?” inquired one of several
men. who were in the hut.

“Thought l’d come out to take the air,” an-
swered Skinflint. imitating the voice of Jasper,
“ ther’s not half enough in that cave.”

“ That’s so. The captain ought to make im-
provements, though we had trouble enough to
shape the cave, in the fust place.”

" Yer’ll all hev trouble enough, ’fore long, I
dare say,” answered Skinflint, as he quietly
walked out of the but.

 

CHAPTER XIII.
a MISTAKE.

“ WHAT did Jasper mean by that?” said one
of the men to the other.

“ Don’t know, and don’t hear. He often
speaks in riddles.”

An hour later Lorne was seen toglide into
the hut.

“ I oculrln’t rest,” he said, “thinking of that
cursed Henderson! Death to the rascal, at

once! No use of putting it. off until to-morrow.
I have just learned something, which convinces

Fireheels; or, Old Skinflint, the Death?

 

 
 
 

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me that he is a mere spy—a traitor, com,
to find out our concerns, and to betray

edi

“ I had not left the cave half an hour, when I
met with a party of hunters, who, it seems, to
use their own words, are searching for “ those
rascally outlaws,” who are causing so much
trouble—robbin honest people and making
travel so unsa e. Of course I pretended to-
chime in with them, and, on inquiry, I learned

that hundreds of people are now in search of'

the robbers.

“ We must be keerful!” remarked one of the
men to Lorne.

“ Oh !” said the latter, “ I’d risk their finding-
our quarters, here, unless we were betrayed,
and now I come to the point. I hurried alon
to Logville as fast as I could go, and authorise
Justice Bole to offer a reward, in my name, of'
$500 for the arrest of the robbers!”

“ Good i” cried one of the men.

“Then the justice told me that, on that very
day, he had been visited by one of those miners
we were going to rob, a few nights since. The
man informed him that he had been warned, on
that night, before the wagon could reach the
turn of the road, that there was a gang 1 ing
in wait to rob him and his companions. ow,
who do you think was the person who thus gave
notice, and balked our little game? I will tell
you. It was Henderson!”

“ Henderson!” echoed his hearers.

“Yes. The miner described the person well
—his dress, air and manner. He came out of
the bush, hailed the wagon, and told all!”

.“ Then we have proof of his treason,” said one
of the listeners. “ Death to the traitor!”

“Yes, death to him! death at once!” echoed;
the others, fiercely flourishing their knives.

Headed by Lorne, the entered the cave.
The young outlaw unloc ed the door of the-
small room in which their prisoner had beeui
confined, and the party beheld, stretched out,

with his back to the door, the occupant of the-

Cell, whom they suppOSed was Henderson.
“He is asleep," said Lorne, “but that does-
not matter. Shoot the rascal at once!”

as.” ’ ‘ 
“,What is it, captain? What have you learn-
, l

The report of scveial revolvers rung through V:

the cave, waking such of the outlaws as were-

asleep.

They came thronging to the cell, to learn why:
the prisoner had been shot.

“ Away with the body l” said Lorne. " Bury'
him outside of the hut!’

Several men advanced, and, turning the body‘
over. his ghastly visage was revealed to all.

“ Jasper i” cried Lorne, in dismay.

The others stared at the dead man in aston-
ishment.

“ Stran’ge enough i” cried one.

“ I don t know as there is anything so very-
strange about it, considering what a set of delta
you all are!” cried Lorne. “ How you contrived!
to let Henderson outwit you in this manner,
puzzles me.”

“ It was natural enough," said a man who had!
been one of those on guard in the hut. “ We
thought it was Jasper who came and passed us,.
for he was dressed in Jasper’s coat and hat, with
the rim of the hat pulled so far over his face
that we could not see it.”

“Well.” said Lorne, “the mischief is done,
and the sooner we bury our man and go to look
for Henderson, the better! It will be stran
eno h if among us all we don’t succeed in ta -
ing t 0 life of that wretch i”

‘ Death to him—death to the traitor!” cried!
several, and the cry was caught up and echoed
by the others.

Jasper was soon buried not far from the but,
several of the gang having first been to recon-
noiter and make sure that no spy was there to
watch their proceedin s.

Meanwhile others 0 the band were looking.
for Skinflint.

The fear that he would betray them totho
authorities induced them to make great exer-
tions to find him.

Finally, four of them ‘who. had reached the
summit of a clifl', descred in the distance a
figure, which they at once inferred was that of
the fugitive.

Taking a roundabout course to head him of.
they posted themselves behind a clump of shrub-
ber which he was approaching.

S infiint, unconscious of their presence, strode
on toward the lurkin -place of his toes.

The latter resolv to kill him with their
knives, as the noise of their pistols, if fired,
might attract the attention of some one of the
gangs hho were searching for robbers, and who
ml t be in the vicinity of the place.

the hunter was about to pass the shrnhbery

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the men sprung toward him, thinking they
would be able to bury their knives in his body
ere he would have a chance to defend himself.

“ Hillol” cried Skinflint, nimbly springing
<back and dropping into a hol10w near the path.

“ Come on, ef yer want me to plug yer I”

As he spoke he drew his revolver, and was
about to all trigger, when one of the gang,
who had arted round to the other side of the
hollow, sprung into the latter, and, knocking
aside his arm with his left hand, endeavored to

lunge his knife in his back between his shoul-

ers.

The hunter, however, was too quick for the
rascal.

Whirling round, be avoided the blow, and,
apparent! averse to taking life when it could
be avoided,1 dealt him on the head, with his re-
Volver, a b ow which knocked him senseless.

The three others of the gang were now in the
holIOW, but ere they could use their knives Skin-
flint nimbly Swung himself out of the pit by
means of the branch of a tree which he had
seized.

"Now, then, you raskils!” he cried. pointing
his revolwr down toward them, “ I hev yer
trapped! Don’t yer try fur to come out of that
yere hole, or, shore as yer’s born, I’ll lug yer!”

The three outlaws looked at each other in dis-
may. Skinfiint was decidedly the master of the
situation. There he stood, sheltered by the tree,
and, ere they could draw their pistols or get out
of the hollow, he could send a bullet through
each of them.

“ What are yer goin’ to do with us?” inquired
one.

“Well, I‘m not perticklar, but I think hang-
in’ would be a little too good for sech villains!
I see some folks comin’ this way now, and I
hope they may prove to be people who are hunt-
in’ fur the robbers which hev done so much mis—
chief!”

“ For God’s sake! let us go, Henderson i” cried
one of the men, “ and we swear to you that we
will not try to molest you again.”

“ I don’t think I kin trust yer,” said Skinflint.
“ However,” he added, for a keen glance at the
agproaching party had made him suspect that
t ey belonged to the band of his enemies, “ I
mou’t let yer go, ef yer’ll promise to do all yer
kin to hinder t‘others from flndin’ me.”

“ We will! we will!" was the eager answer.

“ Go then,” said Skinflint, “ but don’t forgit
yer promise l” .

The outlaws, scrambling out of the hollow,
had roceeded some yards ere their comrades
were eard calling to them.

“What fools we’ve been l” cried one. “We
might have had that cursed Henderson out of
the way by this time, had we only waited, for.
see, our men have now reached the hollow, and
yonder goos our ‘ game,’ streaking it in the
other direction l”

In fact Skinflint had left many ards behind
him and his foes, but, unfortunate y, his course
now led him toward an impassable marsh.

The gang darted in pursuit of him. He
reached the marsh, and could go no further.

“Hyar’n a dimkilty I didn’t expect,” be mut-
tered—“ not bein’ very well acquaint with this
at of {lire country. Well, I must make the

t on I

He coolly faCed round, and aimed his revol-

Ver at the approaching arty, now not more
than a hundred paces oil), numbering a dozen
men.
They came. to a halt behind a sli ht mound
of earth, which would hinder Skin int‘s shots
from taking effect, and pointed their pistols W
ward him.

“No use. Henderson, you’re a dead dog!”
cried one of them.

As they fired Skinflint dropped upon tbi‘
ground, and the bullets passed oVer his need.

Ere they could fire again, there was a ye‘l,
and a large party of Omahas were seen ap-
proaching, on their right.

Firing a few parting shots, the ang took to
their heels. and a minute later kinflint, un-
harmed, was among the indian braves. »

" Good! Come just in time,” said Wono, the
chief. “ We look for Tamina, but no can find.
We have seen ryou with Lona. We know you
to be a friend 0 the young white hunter.”

“Thar yer’s right. I am his friend.”

“We have seen you with Lorne, Belton’s
enem , too. You are not his friend i”

“ o, Injun, but I don’t mind tellin’ yer that
I’ve purtended to be, fur a sart’in purpose.”

“It is well. Come to the Omahas’ camp. The
bad man who would take my white brother’s life
can??? reach him theraf’lu' ‘

“ i go foyer camp ton h "answered
Skinnint. is t,

 

 

    
 

 

Fireheels; or, 016. Skinflint, the Death-Shadow.

He accompanied the Indians to their camp,
which was not far off.

" Now, then,” he muttered to himself, “ thar‘s
no use of going to the justice of L0 ville to tell
him about Lorne’s true character. e wouldn’t
b’lieve me, or would purtend that he did not.
Fur the sake of that boy, bewever, that Belton.
I must wring from him a confession that he was
the raskil who killed Mr. Damon’s darter, fur
ther’s hardly a doubt in my mind that he did it
though I hev’n’t yet been able to git him to tell
me so. He ought to be made to own that ’fore
I go to an honest magistrate who ’1! see justice
done. ’

 

CHAPTER XIV.
THE CAPTURE.

ON the next morniu Skiuflintleft the Omaha
camp to pay a visit to elton before going on to
lie in wait for Lorne.

He fou.:d the youth still in the cave, but he
said nothing to him about the young captain of
the robbers. -

To the questions of his friend he simply an-
swered that things were working ri ht, and
that he hoped soon to obtain proof of Be ton’s in-
nocence.

Fireheels now described his meeting with the
boy, Forner, and related what he had said about
the murder.

“ Thar’s the cha I must find, then," said
Skinfiint. “ Yes, must move heaven and
yearth to find him. Yer've no idea whar he is
now?”

“ No, but I doubt not Lona has found him be-
fore this time.”

“ I must see Lona first, then.”

An hour later Skinfiint left the cave and went
in search of the Indian girl.

She was not at the Omaha camp. so the
hunter went elsewhere to look for her. He wa
however, unable to see her, although for Severe
days, be searched far and near.

At last he concluded he would go back to the
Omaha camp, hoping she had returned to it
during his absence.

The twili ht hour was near when he found
himself not at from the rock under which was
the outiaws’ cave.

Thinking he heard voices behind a clump of
shrubbery near him, he cautiously a preached,
drawing his revolver, and crouche behind a
bush.

Through openings among the twigs, he now
saw Lorne and one of his gang, who were seat-
ed on a log conversing in a low voice.

“I don’t hardly think it would be safe to kill
that Indian girl, ’ Lorne was saying, “ until we
are ready to leave these parts, which’ll be be-
fore long. That Henderson may betray us at
any moment. The girl is safe enough where
we have her—in the dungeon—and there is no
dan er of her being found, as I’ve rolled a
bow der over the crevice on top of the rock
which leads d0wn into the cave, As I said,
we’ll soon have to leaVe this country, which is

tting too hot for us, as there are people now,

er and near, looking for the robbers who have
done so much mischief. When we are ready to
go, it will be time enough for us to end the life
of that troublesome girl.”

Skinfiint distinctly heard these words.

“ I’ll soon hev that gal out of yer clutches,”
he thought; “ and I reckin yer’l! not git away
from heer quite so easily as yer seem to
think!” I

Cautiously moving round to the other side
of the rock, he ascended it.

Then he pulled a coil of slender rope from the
wallet he carried, and having rolled the b0wlder
away from the opening, over which it had been
placed. he fasfcned one end of the rope to a.
rugged projection, allowing the other end to
hang down into the dungeon.

Rapidly descending. he was soon in the
gloomy cavern. at one side of which Lona was
now fastened by a chain to the wall.

At first he could not see her, but a moment
later. he heard her voice.

“ Who is there?”

“ It’s me,” answered Skinflint, “ and I’ve
cOme to sit yer out of this hole ”

“Thatis 00d. Loua will be glad toga away
from here, or she much likes the sun and the
fresh air.”

“ Of course er does.”

He advance to her side, but he could not un-
fasten the chain by which she was held.

At length, however, he succeeded in knocking
from the wall the staple to which one end of it
was .

Then be tied the chain around her waist, so
that it would make no noise during her ascent
from the dungeon.

 

 

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1

 

"' Now, then, yer kin climb the re , but;
whar’s the other al—the white gal, w 0 was-
beer? I don’t see er.”

“ They took her to another part of the cave;
they say she die if she kept here.”

‘ The mean Varmints! Well, go on, Lona.”

The Indian girl commenced to climb the-
rope, which she found it easy to do. as there
were projections on the side of the rocky wall,.
all the way up to the o ning.

Skinfiint followed er, and when he had
reached the summit of the rock, he returned his
rope to his wallet, and rolled the bowlder back
in its place.

As the two hurried along in the direction of
the Omaha camp, the hunter spoke about the
boy. Forner. .

“ Did yer find that young chap? Belton told
me yer went to look for him.”

“ Yes, find him. We take to justice, but jus-
tice would not believe. Boy get away. After-
ward, he try kill himSelf by drowning, but
Lona save him, and lead him to Omaha camp.”

“ And is he thar, now?”

“ He was there when Lona left the camp, few
da 5 ago. Hope he is there yet.”

hey soon reached the camp, but Forner no
longer was there. On the day before, he had
centrived to slip away, and the Indians did not
know in what direction he had gone.

“ Too had!” said Skinflint. “ I wanted to
hev a talk with that boy about the murder.”

There was a culiar expression on Lona’s
face when Skin 'ut made this remark, but she
said nothing.

Next morning the hunter left the camp. He
hovered on the outskirts of Logville, evxdently
watching for some person.

Lorne finally passed that way.

Skinfiiut followed him until he reached a
lonely spot, near a thicket, when he sprung for-
ward and collared him.

“No noise, or r’ll git this!" cried the hunter
savagely, as he eveled his revolver at the head
of the young outlaw.

“ W at are you going to do! What do you
want?" inquired Lorne, coolly.

“ Confess that you murdered her—you mean
varruintl"

“Murdered who? What are you talking .
about? Have you lost your senses?

“I mean that you are the coon that killed Mr.
Danton’s darter! Come, own up at once!”

“ You know better,” was the quiet answer.
“ You know I had no hand in that affair. You
know it was your friend Belton who did the
deed!”

“No! no! yer don’t git of! with any of yer
lies!”

“ You better let me go.”

"No, I‘m not coin’ to let yer go, arter what
I’ve l'arned. Yer’ll jist go with me ’fore a mag-
istrate, and I’ll hev yer locked up fur trial. 1
know enough about yer, now!”

“ You cannot harm me. Bole would not be-
lieve you.”

“I’m not goin’ to Bole, I’m goin’ to Justice
Wentworth, who is a friend of mine, and who’ll»
b’lieve what I say.”
1Ifjorne turned pale but quickly recovered him-
se .

At that moment the noise of approaching
footsteps was heard, not far off.

. “ Here come some of the men who are hunt-
ing for the robbers,” said Lorne. “ If you.
don‘t let me go, it‘ll be the worse you.”

“I hev a’ few questions to ask yer,” saidé
Skinflint, fiercely.
“ Questions?” ‘
“ es. u-hat hev er done with Mary?”

At these words, orne looked confused.

“ Mary i” he stammered.

“ Yes; the poor gal that yer married, and!
then deserted, after cursin’ her and beatin’ her,
leavin’ her in a snow-grin to freeze to death l” '

" I don’t know as this is any of your business,”
said Lorne, striving to speak calmly.

“It is my business. and l’ll tel yer why.
That sweet little gal was my sister I”

“You, her brother!” cried Lorne, startled.

“ Yes, and I swore to hunt yer down, and-
avenge the 1!”

“You are not ing to kill me?” said the out--
law, alarmed at t e fierce aspect of the man be.
fore him.

“ No, I’m not goin’ to kill yer. I’m goin’ to
let the law deal with on, as ou desarve. It’s
fur this I’ve shadow yer -o ongi”

“ Well, then, it is true I left my wife, but I
hope she was not frozen to death.”

“She was not. It was that noble boy, Bel-
ton, who helped her. and ma God ble- him
fur it. But what I want to nd outfromyom
is whar she is, now! She left my house, and I-

  

  

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‘ tracked her as far as heer, after which I lost all The lines which had appeared on the face of my bein’ a poor man, with a famerly to tear '
I, trace of her. You must know what has be- the salmon-merchant and the many white for, and—” ,,
.-‘ come of her!” threads that were now blended with his raven " Enough l” interrupted Mr. Danton. “ I agree - a.

. “Upon my word, I do not,” gasped Lorne. hair, were not there before his daughter met to your terms. You shall have the money the _ ‘

I ' “Come with me, yer varmint—come!" Said with her terrible fate. She was his only child. moment you restore to me my child.” . #1:,

f n Skinflint, dragging him along with him. “You and deeply seated melancholy, which would And as he spoke his eyes gleamed with wild f
{ shall go with me to Justice Wentworth!” probably neVer desert him, had succeeded to the joy.

v -' Lorne now made a desperate effort to free grief and horror which he had experienced “Ther’ must be no trick’ry in this bizness,”

'5 himself, but in vain. Skiuflint’s grasp upon his when the tragedy first became known to him. said Jasper—“ no spies sent to track me or to ar- .

 collar was like iron. “I’ve come to see yer ’bout somethin’ impor- rest ine. Ef ther’s an thing of that kind done, ; 1,
 ‘ “ I told yer I did not mean to kill yer," he taut.” said John Jasper. I’ll know it, and then ’1! have nothing more to u 3, '
"r ’ said, “ but, by the ’taruall ef yer try to git. “ You want work in my factory, I suppose?” do with the affair.” » «- ‘lgi’

away from me, I’ll do it, in spite 'of conse- said Danton, glancing at the man’s rough team- “No, no, lpromise on that there’ll be noth- '. .

Y’s, quences!” ' ster’s garb. “I think I have seen you before. ing of the kind. Tel me how soon you can 
_,. L'n‘ne knew that Skinfiint would keep his You were a juryman in that—that—awful—” bring her to me! For God’s sake! speak quick- 
1» word. and he offered no further resistance, re- “Not so awful as yer seem to think, sir,” ly, and make the time short!” 
. , solving, however, to watch for achance to es- interrupted Jasper. “To-niorrow morning I will come here to . 4",
 cape. ' “What do you mean?" take you to yer darter—that is previded yer  .
-‘ But mile after mile was traversed, and still “It is not for work, but it is ’bout that affair show me the cash which you are to ‘give me. '
 ' . no such chance presented itself. I’ve come to see yer, sir,” was the reply. But you must keep silent about it. on must
 I Skinflint’s whitish eyes Were continually upon “ Go on, for hem/en‘s sake i” not tell a livin’ 8011i until after our bizness is .V
:- his prisoner, who had no op rtumty to draw “ Wcll, then, I’ll begin by askin’ yer what done, or the whole thing falls through.”  j ‘
VI one of the pistols he had wit him. He knew yer’d give me if I could bring bat-k yer darter “Be it so! beit sol” cried Mr. Danton, eager- 35.»

that the moment he should do so, his desperate to y- r i)” ly, ready, under the circumstanCes, to promise is...
A -‘ captor would shoot him dead on the spot! “ Bring her back i" cried Mr. Danton, with a ’most anything. “ You will not disappoxnt me!” if“
,- “ Yes,” said the hunter, as they moved on. wild stare. “ Arc you crazy!” he added, in so beseeching a tone that. even the 4;,

1' “ My little sister War an angel—she War a good "Not a bit of it, sir.” hard heart of the villain was touched. “ You 5‘

,4 gal, and she war happy out i you saw her—you " Do you mean to tell me that she lives?” are not deceiving me!” L.
'i‘vj cussed viper! Ef [had been at home when you “ I didn’t say so, sir!" “ As true as I’m a livin’ man I'm not,” an- "

.1 v came to my house, yer‘d never hev contrived “\Vretch! get out of this house! You either sWered Jasper, in a voiCe which carried convic- 
-~.‘ to git her to marry you. It war all done while have come here to torture me, or you lmVe lust tion with it. «i
T“ I war on a huntin’ and trappin’ tramp, but I your senses, and don’t know what you are say- “ You will come to-morr0w morning?” » 3

men! when I came back, how yer beat and ing!" “I will Come—at eight o’clock.” A,

cussed her—then how you set out with her as “Come now, sir, keep cool. I didn‘t say yer As may be imagined, the merchant obtained 

, you said, to go to another settlement, hundreds darter .is alive, but, ~upposin’ she 1's— what no sleep that night. Never before had time is.

I of miles away, and left her in the wilderness to wmild yr r giVe for havin’ ln-r restored to you!” Seemed to him so long. He had great command 2'

V ., die. She war never the same, ai'ter that. I Mr. Dniton looked steadily at the speaker. oVer himsrdf. howewr,and contrived to appear 
’- think it onsettled her reason a little, and when There was, in the expression of the man‘s face, calm and self possessed. 3/
I saw her ag’in I couldn’t git a smile out o’ the noming indicative of insanity. The hour agreed upon came at last, and with 3' -'
831. Who always, ’fore that, had been so glad to “ Unforlunatclv,” suid tile merchant. “ my it Jasper, true to his promise. 31,.

see me. She kep’ pinin’-like, until one day, a daughter does 'not live, and, therefore, I see no "Come, let us lOSe no time!” said Mr. Danton. 47L

few weeks ago, I found her gone. I‘ll larn use of this sonsfless talk Good God! did I not “You have my doughtlr at the place to which 

what’s become of her, of I hev to wring yer see her body myself? Did Inot—” you intend to take me?” ’ 

neck fur it!" “ How do you know it washer body 3” quie‘ly “ Yes, she is there, but first. please let- me 560 j
To this Lorne made no repl ,but his face interrupted Jasper. the money?” '55

became ghastly, and he tremble from head to “ How did I know it?” gasped Mr. Danton. Mr. Danton took out his pocketbook and ex— ; ,r

foot. “ Whv, by her face—her dress—by her size.” hibited twenty $500 l-ills, which made the eyes ‘;3

Suddenly the sound of an approaching party “You cannot say by her face I" of the young villain glistcn. 

_ was heard, and the eyes of the young outlaw “ \tht. do you mean?” cried the merchant, “All right,” he said, “I am ready." ’~

jr lighted up, for he hoped he would now find a shuddering. “Rascal!” he continued. "Leave They left the house.  .-
chance to escape. 4 me! Go! You have come here to torture me— They had not proceeded far when a terrible ‘ , "if,
His disappointment was great when the to gratify your own curiosity l” thought—one which had not occurred to him ' . 
chief Wono and some of his men came to view. “ Well, then, I’ll come to the p’int. Yer before—crossed the merrhant’s n ind. ' 
“Ugh! good!” said the chief. “The hunter clap-fer is alire !” Might not this be a trick to rob him of the ‘f
, has his foe.” . “ Alive? my daughter?” cried Mr. Danton in money in his possession? Might not the person ‘ »"
’ “ Yes, and I‘m goin’ to take him to Justice a wild voice. with him be an outlaw—one of that gang which . '
Wentworth, who lives ’bout thirty mile from “ Yes, your darter. Now, what will yer give was new being hunted for all over the country! ,.-j"
«Q. ’- beer.” me fur restorin’ her to you?” The more he thought of if. the stronger be- "
'fi  “It is a long way. There are some of the “Where is she? Come, tell me, where is my came his conviction that such was the case. : I,
‘ - tribe of the Snakes about, and they are the chil ? But no; you are imposing on me!” However, he would be on his guard. He car- 
"l enemies of the Omahas. Tamina has joined “ 3 true as thar’s a sky above us,” answered ried a small pistol in his pocket, and upon thi "
them, and so, if the hunter should fall in with Jasper solemnly, “ er darter is alive! I have he kept his hand as the two walked on. -
; them, they would take his prisoner. from him.” seen her. The bo [/ found was not hers! It The (path taken by Jasper led toward the wild- i'
“ Ef they do, they’ll not take him alive!” was that of another person, who looked like her est an most unfrequented parts of the coun~ 
cried Skinflint. and was dressed like her.” try. .
“ They‘ will make the hunter prisoner, too, “ Im ossiblel” “ How much further will we have to go?” in- ‘ l
'7‘ and, if amina sees him, he will tell them to “ 1t sso. Yer darter, I’ve l’arned, is kept a quired Mr. Danton, when they had walked sev- '-
take his scalp. Wono will send some of his war- pris'ner. I know where she is.” era! miles, and were out of sight of the settle- .r
riors with the hunter.” Mr. Danton sprung forward and collared the meat. -
“ Good!" said Skinflint, “ that’ll make things Speaker, “Not much further,” answered the other.
safer.” “You know where she isi—vou are keeping “ Where will I find my child?” ,
Six of the Omaha braVes were detached to go her a risoner? This is unlawful, and you must “ Sealed on a rock in a small cave, where I’ve '
f with Skinflint, and Lorne now saw less chance he dea t with as you deserve. I will ave you left her for security.” I i,

»‘ 4 than ever for an escape. arrested.” . Some minutes later he pointed to a rock ahead

at “ Please let go of me. sir. I had no head in of them.

  CHAPTER XV. yer darter’s being made a pris’ner. It is the “ The cave is in that rock,” he said.

it ; A L 1 vs , on n E A n ? Injnns who are responsible.” They soon reached the place-

‘. v; CROUCHING in the shrubbery. one of Lorne’s “Indians?” . J nape-r pulled aside a bowlder there.

3‘ J‘ ng had seen his captain led off a prisoner by “ Yes, a wandering tribe. Your dartcr is “ Here she is!” he cried. .
kinflint. in their hands. I alone can git her by bargain- He peered into the hollow: then he drew hack 4‘
The man, whose name was John Jasper, was in’ with the chief, who is under oblergations to with a cry of surprise and disappointment.

‘ . a cousin of the person who had been killed 6.” “She is not ihereqtmr!" he said.

‘ -' ,L,’ through mistake by the outlaws, as already do- “Take me, then, to the chief, and I will pay “ RascM !" (Xt‘.aimcd Mr. Danton. “ You ,.
a 4: scribed, in the cave. the ransom.” havo tricked me, and I know ~ by!” t/
a ‘7 This person, having with him a revolvar “That wouldn’t do. They’ll deal only with “Upon my “ord,I have not. I left her in i; '
. could east! have shot down the hunter and me. They would scalp you, and marry yer that owe to wait for you 1” ‘-
 have thus reed his chief. . darter to one of the tribe, and clear out where “ W as there any one with her?”
as But, on reflectiOn, he concluded notto do so, yer’d neVet‘ see ’em ag’in! Come, l’ll tell yer “Not a soul!” .

for a reason which will soon be Shown. - what I’ll do,” continued Jasper, as Mr. Danton . “ Then she could not have got away. She ‘ ,
Quietly seated on the und, he watched now let go of his collar. “Give me ten thou. could not have moved that bowlderi" p‘ .
through an opening in the ushesthe two forms sand dollars. and yer’ll see yer darter ‘fore yer’s “ That’s so, she could not have moved it, but '
until they were out of sight. Then he rose,_say- two days older.” she is gone for all that, as you can See for yer.
ingto himself: “You’re an impostorl”.cried Mr. Danton— self!"
» i ‘All the better that he should be taken out "You—” Mr. Danton looked into the new, to discover
a. - . of the way. This will leave the coast clear for “ The money to be paid only when your that it was empty. He saw something on the '-
1 h me.” darter is before you!” interrupted Jasper. ground thereaand irked it up, It was a small ‘
" '- . . He rubbed his hands and seemed much “ 0b! can this be true?‘ cried the mer- coral breast. pin. w 19h he at orce recognized as ,
 ,. planed, chum. having belonged to his daughter I ' '_ .,
V “ Then, after a few minutes’ reflection, he went “It’s the livin’ truth, sir. Does it look like “ My G0“! You Were right!" he cried. “She ,3
straight to the house of Mr. Danton and asked imposition. my tellin’ war that I expect no mon- has really been here. for here is her breast-pin, ., . 
. ' to see that non. ey until I free your durter and bring her before which must have dropped! What can have be- \ v ‘ .
fie wasa mitted to his ace, and he stood on? Facts is." added Jasper, in a whining, come of her?”  
 I, surveying him for severe moments, apparently hypocritical voice. " I'd do this fur nOthin’ «1 “An Indian has had something to do with ‘ ‘-
‘ ‘ ceptin’ the ransom asked by the chief, hut fur it,” said Jasper, pointing to the prim. of a moo.

I  with-cine satisfaction. \

 

  
      

   
   

 
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
    
  
 
   
 
  
  
  
   
 
 
 
   
   
   
   
  
 

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Old' Skinnint, the Death-shadow.

   

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on the soft ground, near the cave. The
tracd was lost among the rocks, further be-

on .

y “We will look for her! We will find her!”
cried Mr. Danton. “Come, help me—comel she
mfi not have gone far!” ~

6 merchant. now of! his guard, suddenly
felt the hand of Jasper grasping him like a vise
by the back of the neck, while he raised a long
knife he had drawn, to stab him between the
shoulders!

The aim was sure and deadly, but, as the
knife was descending, the arm of the villain was
seized in an iron grasp, and the blow from
the butt of a pisto laid him senseless on the
ground.

Danton turned to discover that hisadeliverer
was Frank Beltonl __

CHAPTER XVI.
WHAT HAPPENED ON THE WAY.

SKINFLINT and the Indians kept on with
Lorne toward the settlement where Justice
Wentworth was to be found.

The country traversed was Wild and lonely,
aboundin With rugged peaks, deep wooded
glens, an darkthickets.

All at once the Omaha braves paused.

“ Helloa! What’s up?” inquired Skinflint.

“ Snakes come,” said one of the Indians.

“ Whar?”

The Omaha pointed toward a distant thicket.

Skinflint could see the shrubbery there gently
moved, and, to a less practiced eye, it might
have been thought that this was caused only by
the wind.

The Omahas at once prepared for battle, those
who had rifles cocking them, and such of them
as were provided only with spears, holding
their weapons ready for service.

They had not long to wait. With a Wild
yell, a dozen Snakes, headed by Tamina, sud-
denly broke from the shrubbery, and rushed to
meet their enemies, discharging rifles as they
came. A couple of the Omahas fell, shot
through their hearts, so that there were now
but four left.

Meanwhile Skinflint’s piece, aimed with un-
erring precision, brought d0wn two of his foes,
but, ere he could reload, the savage band came
rushing up with spears and tomahawks, and a
hand-to-hand combat ensued.

This was of brief duration. Another of the
Omahas having been killed, the rest took to-

their heels. Skinflint finding himself surroundy

ed, endeavored touse his knife and revolver, but
Lorne caught one of his arms, and strove to
hold it, while Tamina, with a blow of his rifle,
knocked the pistol from his grasp.

An Indian had been about to strike Lorne
previous to this, with his tomahawk, but Tam-
na had said: “ No, Wllite prisoner is our friend.
He must not be hurt!” and the savage had im-
mediately lowered his Weapon.

Several tomahawks Were flourished about the
headd of Sklnfllnt, when Tamina again inter-

se .
p0“ Scal now too good for white hunter. The
torture or him!"

A yell of fierce delight was given by the war-
riors, as they crowded about the hunter, fast-
ening his arms securely behind his back with
thongs.

These savage fellOWS, naked to the waist,
with their hideously-painted faces and their
head-dresses of black and red feathers, some of
which droo d over _their fiery eyes, were soon
ca ring a out their prisoner, erforming a
Wild, triumphant dance, while t eir yells and
hoarse, guttural cries rung upon the air.

"Yer may as well. stop yer dancin’,” re-
marked Skinflint, “as it has no effect on me. I
don’t keer shucks fur any one on yer!”

to Why help Omaha’s” inquired one of the In-
dians; “ If not help Omaha, would not tor—

“I’d help ’em again, of I had the chance,”
was the reply.

“Good! than like torture. Make dance and
scream when fire burn. The pale-faces cannot
stand fire.”

“We’ll see ’bout that,” answered Skinflint
coolly. . ’

Lorne now stepped in front of his late captor.

“ The tables are turned,” he said triumphant-
ly. “ How do you like it!” he added, taunting-

] .
ySkinflint showed his teeth, and his eyes liter-
ally blazed, but he said not a word.

“ I wish you would permit me to shoot down
this fellow as he stands.” continued Lorne, tum-
in to Tamina. “ He will make much mischief,
if = a should escape.”

“The hunter will not escape}? replied Tam-

 

ina. “ If my white brother wishes, he can go
with us, and see us burn the prisoner to death l”

“I will go with you to see that,” replied
Lorne, “eVen though I lose much precious time
by it.”

Six of the savages started oil? in pursuit of
the Omahas; the rest, with Tamina apd Lorne,
went on toward their camp.

This was situated on the other side of the
thicket.

A fire was about to be made for the torture,
when a furious storm of wind and rain came on
and prevented it.

Sklnflint, bound hand and foot, was then
placed in one of the skin tents.

The storm raged all day.

When night came, a guard of two Indian
youths was stationed near the prisoner’s tent.

One of the boys seated himself under a tree,
near the edge of a thicket, where he was partly
sheltered from the rain. The night was so
dark that, even had any of the other warriors
emerged from their tents, they could not hava
seen him.

All at once the youth received upon his head
a blew which laid him sznseless on the round.
An Indian girl glided from behind I: e tree
whence she had dealt the blow with a heavy
stick. This girl was Lona, who now proceeded
to put upon her head the mass of drooping
feathers worn by the boy and also the tattered
blanket in which he had wrapped his form.
Then, seating herself for a moment under the
tree, she rose and walked leisurely toward the
tent armed with the spear which the boy had
carried.

The youth who had not left his post glanced
at her, and muttered something which she
could not bear, but it was evident that his sus-
picions were not aroused.

Finally Lona. started to creep into the tent.

“ What are you doing there? Why are you
going there?" inquired the youth, in his native
tongue.

“ To see if our prisoner is all right,” answered

na.

"You take too much trouble. Of course he
is well enough.”

Lona, however, kept on.

“ Hello!” whispered Skinflint, “ what are yer
up to now, Injun?"

“Hist! it is Lona. She come torescue her
friend.”

“ God bless yer, gal, yer’s an angel 1” said the
hunter, as, with her knife, she quickly severed
his thongs.

She put a pistol in his hand.

“ Come!" she added, “ you must make a rusbl
It is even now uncertain if we succeed in es-
capingl”

“Give me the range of the woods, and I’ll
risk itl” was the answer.

FolloWed by Lena, he dashed out of the tent.

The youthful guard, shouting an alarm,
sprung to thrust his spear into him, but Skin-
flint adroitly avoiding the weapon, knocked
him Sensr-less with the butt of his revolver.

A moment later, as he darted into the woods,
he heard'the yells of the savages, who had been
aroused, and were now in pursuit.

He looked for Lona, but he could see nothing
of the girl in the gloom. Ahead of him he be-
held the dark forms of the camp-guard, who
stood near the other side of the thicket.

He could see the gleam of their fiery eyes like
thOse of wild beasts, as they leaned forward,
and, fearing that they might get a glimpse of
his form, he glided off in another direction.

Meanwhile the boy whom Lona had struck
senseless, had come to and joined in the pur-
suit. As he crept swiftly along the ground like
a serpent, he saw the indistinct form of Lona
groiiched behind a tree, a few paces ahead of

1m.

In a moment he was upon her, holding her
fast in spite of her struggles. until Taminacame
up with several of the warriors.

The latter were about to bury their toma-
hawks in her head, when the young Indian in-
terposed. '

“No!” he cried. “Tamina want the girl.
He will make her his squaw, and his slave l’

“Lona rather be killed!” said the maiden.

“It shall not be. Tamina has her, at last.
She shall hereafter stay with the Snakes. The
Omahas shall know her no more l”

“Lona will neVer forget her people, nor will
her ple forget her!” answered the 'rl,
prou ly. “Tamlna is half a Snake. is
mother was a Snake, but Lona is of the noble
tribe of the Omahasl” .

“ It does not matter. At last Tamina has her
in his clutches, and he will make her love and
respect him!"

 

“That can never be done, for her heart is
away from Tamina. It was never with him.”

" t was with him until Fireheels crossed her
pathl" cried Tamina, enraged. “That pale-
face will yet be in our hands. The Snakes are
on his track.”

A shudder passed through the girl’s frame.
She feared that Belton would be captured by
the Snakes, who she knew were wonderfully
skillful on the trail. It at once occurred to her
that it was best to soothe Tamina, so that if
the white hunter should be made prisoner by
the Snakes, he might not be tortured.

“Tamina’s talk comes too fast,” she said.
“What does he mean? Lona likes Fireheels
as a friend—that is all!”

“It is not so. Tamina has keen eyes. Lona
cannot deceive him."

The girl was then taken to the camp, and her
ankles having been bound, she was placed in
one of the tents. '

Next morning the savages who had hunted
for Skinflint came back to the camp. They had
been unable to find this man, who had contrived
to escape them by dodging about, in the dark
thicket.

 

CHAPTER XVII.
STRATEGY.
Ma. Damon, saved us previousl§ described,.
by Frank Belton, who had struck ohn Jasper
down at the moment when he was about to
plunge his knife into the back of his intended
victim, was at first, on recognizing his rescuer,
too much agitated to speak.
“ You, it is then you,” he cried, at last.
“Yes. sir, and it was lucky I came this way.”
“ I would rather owe my life to any person
than to you I” said Danton.
“I know why, but ou’re mistaken. God

knOWs I had no hand in 'illing your daughter 1”

“ It is too late for you to deny lt now. Sur-
render yourSelfl You are my prisoner. 1 am
not yet too old to arrest my daughter’s mur-
derer.”

And as he spoke, Mr. Danton pointed his pis-
tol at Frank’s head.

a}.

The youth, leaning on his rifle, looked at him, _

calmly.
“ Surrender, I say, or I’ll shoot!”

“ I will not surrender,” answered Belton, “ be» -

Cause I am innocent. I hope before long that
this may be proved.”

“ What do you mean by that?”

“Thar’s a youth, now at large, Who saw the
person who did the deed. At present he can—
not be found, but I hope he soon will be, and
will be made to tell who the assassin was.”

“ Rascal, you speak of your accomplice, or
friend, Forner. I heard all about him from
Lorne. You hired him to say what he did.”

” Thar you mistake. I had never seen him
before I met him, one night—"

“ Never mind rticulars. The question now
is, will you or Will you not surrender? The law
will 'ustify me in shooting you down, for there
has n a reward offered for you, dead or
alive.”

At that moment something came whizzing
through the air.

It was a spear, which, striking the pistol held
by Mr. Danton, knocked it from his grasp, and
passed through the body of John Jasper, who
still lay Senseless, pinning him to the ground.

A yell was heard at t e same moment, and
half a dozen fierce Indians of the Snake tribe
Were seen rushing toward the young hunter
from a thicket not twenty ces off.

“ Run and save yourself,’ said Belton to Mr.
Damon. “ The Snakes are on the war-path and
will scalp you if you remain.”

The merchant had heard that this tribe had
lately attacked and killed some white men in
another part of the territory.

“ You will come with me,” he said.

“ No, sir; I’ll stay hyar to keep the varmints
at bay as long as possible.”

Danton hurried off. He had seen in the dis-
tance a party of hunters, whom he ho to
notify and bring up to the assistance df lton,
for he was determined to have the youth ar-
rested if possible.

Meanwhile, as he ran on he reflected on the
trick of which he believed he had been made
the victim by John Jasper.

But how came the breastpin in the cave!

“ I am sure it is the one which belonged to
my daughter,” he muttered. “ That
J as r must have stolen it from the body after
death, and at it there on purpose, in order to
carry out I. e deception. and not excite my sus-
picions so that he might have a chance to
me an possess himself of the $10,000. Well, he
has met with his deserts, at any rate, and

now,

 
 
  

     
     
   
    
    

 
  

: assassin,” said
,? brutal one at that.” Turning to the old Indian

‘F’irehee’lsi or, 301d Skinzflint, the Death-Shadow.

 

if I can only get Belton in the hands of the au-
~thorities, it will at least be some satisfaction.”

Belton by this time had fired two shots from
his rifle at the a proaching savages, and each
\bullet had woun ed an Indian.

The hunters, in the distance, heard the sound
of the wea n, and seeing what was going on,
they came 0 meet Mr. Danton.

But they were too far off to render Fireheels

: :any assistance. Ere he could reload, the sav-

‘; :ages had surrounded and captured him.

' After securely binding their captive’s hands

' "they hurried 03 with him, making good speed
in order to escape the hunters, who, although
still far 03, were fast coming on.

Night closed about them are they halted.
The violent storm previously alluded to now
was raging, but a careful watch over the pris-
oner was kept.

In the morning they continued on their way,
and soon reached their camp, to hear of the
events concerning the escape of Skinflint, the
capture of Lona, etc., which have already been
described.

Onbseeing Belton, Lorne uttered a cry of tri-
zump .

“ A greater prize could not have dropped into
my hands,” he said.

“ What does my white brother mean?” in-
quired an old chief.

“I mean that this person has perpetrated a
’horrible murder. Has not my red brother

‘ heard of the murder of Bell Danton—the white
girl at Logville!”

“‘ Think hear of it; but why speak of prisoner
as prize to my white brother?”

“ You should know that that girl was a friend

. of mine, and that I want to avenge her death.
..It was a terrible deed.”

“ You think Fireheels did it?"

“ Yes, I am certain of it.”

“ Ughl my white brother make mistake.

\. I Fireheels would not kill a white squaw— he

would not even kill an Indian uaw. His
'heart is too big and too brave. he Snakes
1 know him to be their enemy, but they can see
his heart, and they are not blind.”
“ There is every reason to believe he was the
Lorne, impatiently, “ and a

Belton said:

“The Snake tells the truth when he says I
did not kill the girl. I would haVe protected
her with my life.’

“Chief,” cried Lorne, “you must give this
man up to the white peo le. They are hunting
for him. They want to sag him for the mur-
der, as he deserves. A reward has been offered
for him, and you will get it if you give him to
the ale-faces.”

“ t is well. Samodi will have a talk with his

~warriors. If they agree to what my white
brother asks, it shall be done.”

A council was at once held. In this council
Tamina had great influence. He advised the

'ving up of the pri<0:~er, and the Snakes final-
y resolved to surrender him to the whites, in-
stead of putting him to the torture, as they had
intended to do.

Scarcer had they come to this conclusion
when the crack of rifles was heard, and an In-
dian brave came rushing into the camp, sa ing

' that the Snake scouts had been attac ed y a
party of pale-face hunters, who were coming on
toward the camp.

“There must be no fighting to-day.” said
Lorne. “ I will go forward, see those hunters,
and propose to them not to attack you; but to
arrange to pay you the reward and receive
Fireheels.”

“Good,” answered Samodi. “My brother
speaks well.”

Accompanied by one of the Indians. Lorne
walked oi! and soon met the white hunters, to
whom he explained the proposed arrangement.

Now it chanced that these hunters were one
of the arties searching for the outlaws who

l had late y done so much mischief. ’They were
the some men whom Mr. Danton had met on
the day before, after his flight from the sav-
ages, and he had advised them to get possession,
at all hazards, of Belton, dead or alive.

Great, therefore, was their satisfaction when
they saw Lorne, and learned from him that
there would be no difficulty in obtaining, the
prize, for which, in addition to the reward al-
read oflered, Mr. Danton had declared he
won d pay five hundred dollars more.

A few muskets and sorne powder would satis-
fy the savages. The hunters would manage to
retain the bulk of the reward.

Among the arty there was a person who had
joined them t at morning, on their way to the
camp. He was a tall, sinewy man, as lean as

 

a shadow, wearing leggins, a blanket, and an
old felt hat with an enormous brim, which had
nearly concealed his face.

When he saw Lorne coming, he had with-
drawn from the band, saying he was oing to
get a drink of water from a spring, not ar off.

At length, after Lorne set out on his return
to the camp to prepare the Snakes for the ap-
proach of the hunters, he rejoined the latter.

“ Them In uns is treach’rous,” he remarked,
“ and I thartore think our best plan would be
fur only one on us to go to the camp, and return
hyar with the pris’ner. Ef they mean to mas-
sacre us, only one will then be killed, which
are better than fur all to fall into the trap.”

“ But who’ll hev the pluck to go all a one in
that way!”

“ I’ll go, ef yer like,” answered the stranger.
“ The risk is worth runnin’, fur they may not
mean to trap us, arter all.”

This proposal was agreed to. The stranger
went into the thicket, and he was soon in sight
of the camp.

Instead of going on, he crouched behind a
tree and listened.

Finally, hearing footsteps, he saw Lorne and
Tamina pass on their wa back to the hunters
to tell them that the Sna es were ready to sur-
render Belton to them if they would agree to
give them in return fifty rifles and as many
pounds of powder.

The concealed watcher waited until Lorne
and the young Indian were out of sight. Then
he moved rapidly forward and boldly stalked
into the camp.

The first person he met was the old chief, Sa-
modi.

“I come from the white hunters,” he said,
“ for Fireheelsl I am to take him to them. They
sent me for him.”

“Our white brother has gone to tell the
hunters what we will charge for the pri:oner
and to bring them or their anSWer.”

“I am the chief of that hunter party,” was
the response. “Tell me yer terms, and we’ll
see of we kin not close the barg’in, so as to save
time.”

“ Fifty rifles—fifty pounds good powder.
Rifles must be good, too.”

“ Lord! Injun, yer goes it pooty steep. Ef
yer’d only lower yer terms a bit.”

“I have said it. Will take no less.”

“Well, then, I reckin I’ll hev to close with
yer. Give me the pris’ner, and yer better send
an Injun ’long with him, too! That white chap
yer hev hyar—that Lorne, will serve fur a host-
age;'fur the safe deliv’ry of yer goods soon as
we git the reward, which, yer see, will hev to
be paid to us, ’fore we kin pay it to you.”

‘ It is Well.” I

Samodi then said something to his men, who
soon approached with the ca tive.

Belton looked closely at t e person who had
come to conduct him from the camp, and re-
cognized Skinflint.

CHAPTER XVIII.
STRANGE DISCLOSURES.

THE moment he made this discovery, the
young hunter comprehended his friend intended
to effect. his rescue. Neither by look nor manner,
however, did he show that he knew his con-
ductor. "

An Indian, named Gonok, was summoned to go
with the twain. As he was a large, powerful
fellow. armed with knife, tomahawk and rifle,
Skinflint rooived that he would have to make
use of al his strength and agility to overcome
such an opponent. -

When the three were out of sight of the camp,
he snatched from the bands of the savage the
rifle carried by the latter, and which was the
one he had taken from Belton, at the time the
youth was ca tured. Ere the Indian could
draw his tomahawk,Skinflint made ablow at
his head with the butt of the piece, but the
wily Snake, adroitly dodging it, was about to
give the alarm and use his knife, when his an-
tagonist squeezing his throat With one hand,
dealt him a tremendous stroke between the eyes
with his huge, clinched fist, which laid Gonok
senseless at his feet.

“Thar yer are!" said Skinflint, as, with his
knife, he severed Belton’s bonds. “ Now, off yer
go and make tracks that way,”——pointing as he
spoke, in a direction where the fugitive would
not meet with the party of hunters. I

As he spoke. he put into the hands of his young
friend the rifle he had taken from the Snake.

“ You are not going with me?” said Belton.

“No, I hev to go another way,” was the reply.
“But I hope to meet yer, ’fore long. Come,
streak it, 'pard, like white lightnin’, fur the
secret cave.. Yer’ve no time to lose!”

“an...

 

 

The youth darted rff. and was soon lost to:
view in the shadows of the forest.

“ Now, then, fur that poor lnjun gal l” mutter-
ed Skinflint, as he made his way rapidly toward
a mountain which loomed in the distance.

In a valley at the base of this mountain, the
Omaha warriors had all collected to prepare
for an assault upon the Snakes, the news 0 the
late conflict having been brought to them on
the night before,~ by some of the fugitive
braves.

Wono had his men ready for the march,
when Skinflint made his appearance.

“ Thou ht the hunter prisoner,” said the
chief. “ 0w come here!”

“ I was saved by that noble gal of yearn——
Lona,” he answered.

Having described his rescue, he went on.

“Arter gittin’ off, I skulked about in the
woods, and contrived to keep cl’ar of the In-
juns. Finally, I came upon a dead Omaha. I
tuk ofl? his leggins and blanket, and put ’em on.
As these clothes war the same kind that’s worn
by some hunter-tramps, I knowed no suspicion
would be raised among the enemy by my dress.
Well, all at once, I heerd voices, and going to
whar they comed from, I hit upon a party 0’
white hunters, making a fire for a night-loun e.
I soon l’arned that they war arter Belton, who,
it seems, had been captured the night before,
by some 0’ the Snake scouts. I purtended to be
as anxious to git persession of him fur the sake
0’ the reward oflered fur him, as the rest war,
so, in the mornin’ we all went on together, to—
ward the Snakes. with my hat pulled so far
down over my face that the lnjuns would not
see it enough to recognize me.”

He went on to relate what has already been
told, after which he marched with the Omahas
toward the hostile camp, the exact locality of
which he was now enabled to describe to his
dusky companions.

By rapid movements the band reached the
camp of the enemy an hour later, and, creeping
close to it, unobserved, they suddenly rushed to
the attack.

Surprised by its suddenness, the Snakes made
but a feeble resistance. They fled in confusion.

' Tamina was killed, and many scalps were taken

by their foes.

Among those who escaped was Lorne. much
to the regret of Skinflint, who had wanted to
capture him.

Lona was found in one of the tents with her
hands tied. Her thongs were severed, and she
was soon among her people, thanking Skii flint
for helping to rescue her.

“And do you s’pose, gal, that I would hev
left er, arter what you did fur me? No, it
won] not be nat’ral fur me to do that.”

"But where is Fireheels?” inquired Lona. “ I
heard of his being take pris’ner. He not been
killed?” she added, her dark eyes gleaming
wi d .

“ o, he’s safe by this time in my cave, I
reckin.”

And the hunter went on to state how he had
saved his young friend.

A few hours ater, Lona left the camp of the
Omahas.

“ I must make sure he safe I” thought the girl,
as she hurried on.

Before night, she reached the base of the
cliff. in which was the secret cave.

Having made sure there was no spy about
the place to hear her, she called Belton by name.

At'first he did not appear and her heart sunk
Within her. Soon, however, she saw him at
the Opening above.

“ Is it you, Lona?" he joyfully cried.

Then be lowered the ladder and the girl was
presanily at his side.

“ Safe now; Fireheels’ troubles are over!”
said Lona, looking up at him with beaming eyes.

“ I have escaped the lnjuns. it’s true,” an-
swered Belton, “ but I suppose I am still being
hunted for by white people.”

“ White eople cannot hurt,” rejoined Lona,
with a pecu inr expression in her eyes.

“ What do you mean? Speak, my good friend;
thar’s some meaning, I see, that you’ve not
made cl’ar to me?”

“ THE warm GIRL IS ALIVE!” said Lona.

“ How? What white girl? You don’t mean—”

“I mean the girl whose name is Bell Danton,
and who was thought to be killl”

The young hunter staggered back, and stared
wildly at the speaker.

“Lona, I hope you are notejesting with me.
Thar’s no use of wakin hopes, ef they—”

“ Why should Lona fiesti It is true what she
says,” interrupted his companion.

“Where is she? Who, then, was the mur-
dered girl? I si‘iw her, myself. The form was

I_,_\ ,

.L

 

  
      
     
     
     
     
      
       
     
    
    
    
    
    
    
   
   
   
     
     
    
     
     
    
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
    
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
    
 
 
 
 
    
    
   
     
       

 

 

     
  
 

  
   
   
  
   
  
   
    
  
  
    
  
   
  
   
 

 

 

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. day I was freed b

" 15

 

"that of Miss Danton, and it had on her
awl. The dress, too, was white—the same
as hers. -I tuck it all in at a lance.”

“It is true. The dead 1 have on white

" ) ‘dress like that of Bell Danton and she look,
' when dead like Bell Danton. ’Her shawl be-

ll Danton, too. Some must have
ut it on her. She in woods, at dusk, when she
ear scream. She see Lorne strike down rl,

and choke her! When Bell see this, it a set

her so she faint. After while she come to, and
find herself in outlaws’ cave—in dungeon.

Lorne had been take her there! He fasten her

in there with chain!”

180 this Lorne is an outlaw and a murderer!”
cried Belton, in surprise. “ I always thought
be war a bad coon, but I‘m shore of it now!
Whar is Bell Danton—with her fatherl”

“No, me find her in little cave. Lona going

t rock, and she hear voice call out. She

ll bowlder away from entrance to cave, and
there was the white girl.”

“ Wasn’t you started, on seein’ one whom you
thou ht war dead?”

“ o, for Lona been see before. Lona know
she in cave of robbers, for she been see her
there. She going that very time to see Mr.
Danton, and tell him about it—at time when
she as rock and hear girl.”

“ ell, why didn’t you then take her home to
her father?”

“She too weak—she sick. Lona take her 03
to a. comfortable place—to a good cave, and

longed to

, there she make her lie down on skins, and give

her medicine. She been rave—her brain on
fire—but she better now i”

“ We will go there, instantly. and take her to
'her father!” cried Belton.

“ Don’t know if she is strong enough yet for
walk,” answered Lona. “But we go and see.
If not, then Lona go to Logville, tell Mr. Dan-
ton, and bring people to help her.”

Belton went with Lona to the cave in which
she had left Bell Danton. The retreat was one
which the Indian girl had used for her own
quarters when the Omahas were encamped
near the place. Screened by willows and thick
shrubbery, it might have escaped the notice

' even of a detective.

Entering the cave, Belton saw Miss Dantoni

' still quite weak, seated on a log, which serve

for a chair in the rocky hollow.
- On beholding the young hunter a bright blush
suffused her cheeks, and her eyes gleamed with

o .

J xBelton l” she cried. “Thank Heaven! you
are safe— ou are saved! Lorne’s plot to have
you hung or a murder has failed 1”

“Well, now, you surprise me by what you
say, miss, but. of ever thar was a happy man.
I’m the one at seeing you alive—for your own
sake—and rescued from the dungeon whar Lona
says Lorne had put you.”

‘ Yes, he had his reasons for putting me
there,” said .Bo.-ll. “One was because I was a
witness to his crime,” she added with a shudder.
“for I saw him strike down and throttle the

irl who was found killed; another was because

6 wanted to have you executed for the crime;
and the third was that he wanted to obtain
from my father, through some one of his band,
a large ransom _i'or my restoration, after you
should have perished on the gallows! Yester-
one of the gang, a fellow
they called John asper, and was by him con-
ducted to acave. He said he felt sorry for me,
and was going to restore me to my father, who
would come to the cavc, if I there waited for him.

“The distance from there to Logville being

. five miles, he said I was too Weak to walk so far,

which, in fact, was really the case.

“ The moment he left the cave he put a bow].
der, too heavy for me to mova, against; the
entrance. Then I gu899€d the truth, which was

‘that he wanted to secure the ransom for me

from my father. I snow to move away the
bowlder, but could not. I heard footsteps pass-

; mg. and called, When Lona, displacing the rock,

appeared before me. Bv this time I was much
excited. I told Lona how I came there, but
remember little more until I found her yester.
Ada heading over me, and givmg me cooling
dr nks.

“ You should then hev gone to Logville and

told about it,” said Belton to the Indian girl.

“Lona then ’fraid to go,” was the answer

' “for she been see tracks of Snake Indians, an

she fear they make girl pris’ner. Afterward
she go out and scout; she see Skinflint, having
Lorne ca tive, ahead of her, and she try to
catch up him but, before she could, Snakes
a ck. Then she hide, and after a while, when

l  S nflint been take pris’ner, she go to rescue
him."

 

CHAPTER XIX.
CONCLUSION.
Seaman? had Lona concluded when ashadow
darkened the cave, and Lorne sprung through

the o ning.

“Y‘beu have escaped me, wretch!” he shouted,
pointing a pistol at Belton’s head, “ but you
shall not llVe to boast of it!"

He was about to pull the tri or when Lona.
sprung between the weapon an the youth.

The report of the piece rung sharply, and the
Indian girl fell, mortally wounded. .

Belton at once raised his rifle and leveled it at
the young outlaw’s head.

“ Don’t you move from hyar or you are a
dead coon!” he cried. “ The whole truth has
now come out, and it’s been proved that
you’re one of the blackest villains on the face of
the earth!”

Lorne folded his arms.

“ Shoot, if on want to,” he said. “I am
not afraid to ie. The ‘game’ is up and I sup-
pose I may as well own it. I have heard most
evarything that has been said here, for I was
hidden in the shrubbery near the opening of
the cave, waiting for a favorable moment to
get at on!”

“ It is not for me to take your life,” answered
Belton. “ Ef I should, I’d only cheat the scaf-
fold. All I want of you, is to go with me to
Logville and give yourself up.” '

" I will not 0 there,” said Lorne. “ We Will
see where I go to!”

As he spoke he pulled a dirk from his breast-
pocket and aimed the point toward his heart.

Ere Belton could have hindered him he would
have plunged the weapon into his breast, had
not his knife been knocked from his hand by a
blow from a rifle upon his wrist, which was be-
numbed by the stroke.

The next moment the gaunt, shadow-like
form of Skinflint, his whitish eyes blazing with
a furious expression, glided before of the outlaw.

“ Speak!” roared the hunter, shaking him vio-
lently. “ Speak, and tell me who the gal was
you murdered!”

Lorne became as pale as death.

"You will never get that secret out of me!”
he gaspe .

“Miserable rat! Hyar I am—Skinflint—yer
death-shadow—come to make yer own it war
my poor little sister Mary yer killed! She war
the same complexion as Miss Danton, and, in
death, with her face swollen and disflg’red,
she mou’t hev looked like her. It warto find
out what had become of my sister that I’ve
shadowed yer all along. I had a suspicion that
you had a hand in her disappearance, but I
didn’t think at first that you’d gone so far as to
kill her, though I suspected you had killed Miss
Danton. Do yer remember what I whispered
in er ear that night in the hollow, jest arter
Be ton's ’an from rison? It war these words:
“ You 7mm ered ll iss Danton I” but now I
know it war my Mary that was killed, and not
the other gal I”

To this Lorne made no reply, but he appeared
to be much agitated.

Again Skinflint shook him violently.

“ ell,” he cried, “ yer’ve got cornered at
last, and yer’ll die with-a rope about yer neck—
that’s one consolation. I shall be thar to see yer
-—to shadow yer to the very scaffold.”

With the assist 'nce of Belton, Skinflint now
fastened the hands and feet of the young villain.

Meanwhile Lona lay dying.

Miss Danton bent ovar her, much distressed.

“Growl-by,” murmured the Indian girl faint-
ly. “ Lona going to better place—to happy hunt-
in ground.”

gelton now stooped down by her side.

She took his hand and pressed it.

“Farewell,” she gasped. “Lona loved the
young hunter, Fireheels, and she die happy, be-
cause she saved his life with her own, and—”

She never finished the sentence.

The seal of death was on her face, and with
one last convulsive movement, she expired.

Skinflint n0w started for Logville, which he
reached in a few hours.

He soon collected a Iparty, among whom, in
his carriage, was Mr. anton, to go with him
to the cave.

The joy of the merchant when he beheld his
daughter alive can hardly be expressed.

Explanations were made. Then Bell and her
father entered the carriage and soon reached
Logville. Lorne was also taken to the settle-
ment, some of the men following with the dead
lhody of the Indian girl on a rudely-constructed

itter.

Next day the Omahas came and buried Lona,
and Belton was present at the funeral cere-
mony.

 

Lorne’s trial took (place a Week later. He
made no attempt to any Miss Dauton’s state-
ment. It was also proved. not only by Skin-
flint’s testimony, but also by that of some
of Lorne’s gang lately arrested, that the
youth was the chief of the band who had com-
mitted so many robberies, and for whom so
many hunters had been searching.

The prisoner refused to tell the name of the
girl whom he had choked to death in the woods,
near Logville. Skinflint, however, felt con-
vinced that it was his sister, Mary, and every
time he declared this to the outlaw, the latter s
visa 9 showed an expression of fierce-triumph,
as i he exulted in the rage and grief of his
enemy.

It was generally believed, that she was the
person who had been the murdercr’s victim, and
much 3 mpathy was felt for the rude hunter,
whose eep sorrow was plainly depicted on his
rulgged visage.

inally Lorne was brought to the llows.
The rope was put about his neck, and t e fatal
word was about to be given, when a piercing
shriek was heard, and the boy Forner,was seen
rushing toward the scaffold, with wild eyes, and

a visage as pale as death. .
“ No! no! don’t hang him! He shall not the!
His

See I 1 am alive I” cried the lad.

Skinflint looked toward the speaker.
words were unheeded, and, the next moment,
Lorne dangled in the air, as the trap gave way
beneath his feet. He expired in a few minutes.
but Forner did not see his last struggles, for he
had fainted.

Ere the boy could drop to the ground,Skin-
flint ceught him in his arms, with a joyful shout.

“ Hyar she is, after all l—m own little
sister J—the one I thou ht was kil ed 1”

“That boy i” cried Bc ton : “ you don’t mean—”

“ Yes,” interrupted Skinflint “ it is my Mary—-
mylsister, dressed in boy’s clot-hes!”

e pulled a flask from his pocket, and finally
succeeded in bringing the disguised girl to her
senses.

l
He supported her to his lodging, and there,‘

for days, he watched by her side, as she lay
raving in delirium. At last, however, she re-
cowred, and, on learning what a monstrous
villain Lorne had proved himself to be, she
gradually ceased to mourn for him.

She stated that she had disguised herself, and
came here to watch the man who had treated
her so badly, because she had heard that, after
deserting her. he had married another person,
his cousin, Ellen Boardman, and she wanted to
ascertain if the report was true. Tracking
Lorne, she saw him meet Ellen in the woods
near Logville, toward dusk. She heard the 'rl
threaten to prosecute him for desertion. his
enreging him, he knocked her down and throt-
tled her. It was the remarkable resemblance
in personal appearance bet'Ween the youn
woman and Bell Danton, previously commen
on, together with the fact that each were a
similar white summer dress, and that Ellen had
round her Miss Damon’s shawl, which had
caused her to be mistaken, in death, for the
merchant’s dau liter.

Lorne, after illing the irl. had heard Miss
D nton's cry of terror, an seen this witness
fall senseless. He had then taken from her, her
shawl, and put it round the corpse, after which
he had conveyed the unconscious young woman
(Miss Danton) to his Secret retreat.

Mary, the other witness, had not waited to
see him do this, but had fled, horrified from the
spot.

Almost driven mad by what she had seen, she
had lingered about the outskirts of the settle-
ment. When she learned that Belton was sus-

cted of having murdered the girl who was

ound in the woods, she had not declared the
truth to the authorities, because she would not
testify against her husband. Badly as he treat-
ed her. she still loved him."

Skinflint could account for her continued
attachment toaman who had treated her so
shamefully: and had otherwise proved himself
to be so great a villain only by the fact that her
mind was ‘ unsettled’ by the sufferings she had
undergone.

Be this as it might, it is certain that Mary
finally regained her cheerfulness, and, again
living with her brother. in their old home made
him happy with her pleasant companionship.

It is only necessaryto add that the noble
young hunter. Frank Belton, was eventually
rewarded for the persecutions and trials he had
undergone, with the hand, in marriage, of Mr.
Damon’s daughter, Bell, who had secretly
loved him from the moment he became a vis-
itor at her father’s house.

THE END.

.1

  

 

I

EAbLE’SerALF- 

Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents. No Double Numbers. ‘-‘ i . ‘3;

 

 

 

BY EDWARD L. WHEELER.

Deodwood Dick Novels. '

I Deadwood Dick, the l’rinco of the Rand.
20 Double Digger-rug or, Deadwood lliclt'I Defiance.
28 Bull’qu lien: or. )r-ndwood Dirk in Disguino.
35 Wild lvun. the liny Clouds Duval.
Phantonl 3| lner; or, Deadwood Dick‘s Ron-nut.
49 Omaha Dll' or headwmd [link in Danger.
5? Deadwood ibioli‘a Engine; or, The l’nrdn ofFlood Bar.
78 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or. ('nlmnitv .lune.thd Heroine.
’37 (‘orduroy (‘hnrlio3 or. Ilenllwnlld Dick‘s Lust Act.
10O Deadwood Dick In Loadvllio.
104 Deadwood Dick'n Do\ ice: or, The Duul-lo Cron Sign.
109 Deadwood illvk an Detective.
129 Deadwood Dluk‘n Double: or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s

(Illll‘ ).

138 Blur-dc “ill: or, Deadwood Dick‘s llomo Burn.

‘49 A Gun": ot‘ t-‘oldt 0". llonllwood Dick's Big Strike.

158 Dendwood llcl. of Dead wood; or, The l’irktd Party.

195') Deadwood Dlvk‘n Dream: or, The Riv ls oithc Roud.

201 The Hook llillu Jezebel; 0r. Deadwood ltck‘n Ward.

205 Den wood Dick’s Doom; or, Culumity Juno's Lint Ad-
venture.

2i? Cuptnln Crook-Shot, the Girl llrignnd.

22! Su nr-Contod Ham: or, The llim-k down.

282 Go d-Dunt Dick. A Roumm-e of Rough ' nnd Taught.

268 Deadwood Dlok'n Divide "r, The Spirit of Swamp Lake.

263 Deadwood Dick‘s Death ‘ruli.

809 Deadwood Dick’u ltlg Deal; or, The Gold Brick of
Ul'ugnll.

321 Deadwood DIr-k'u Dozen : or, The Fnkir nil‘lmnlmu Flats.

34’? Deadwood Dick‘s Ducutu; or, Rainy Duys in the Uig-

gmun.

851 Deadwood Dlok sentenced: or. The Terrible Vendoltn.

362 {Deadwood Divk’n Claim; or, The Fairy Face of Euro
l‘lutit. j

405 Deadwood Dlok in Dom] City.

410 Deadwood Dick‘n Diamond-t: or, The Mystery of Jonn
’nrier.

42] Deadwood Dick ill New York; or. A “Cute Cit-e.”

480 Deadwood Illok‘n Dun-t; 1vl‘,'i'he(ilmined linnd.

448 Deadwood Dick, J r. '

418 Nickel-Plate Nod; M. Th-ndwood Dirk Jr‘s Defiance,

458 Sunflower ham. 0! Silustn; or, lluiuln‘utlil i).ck Jr's Full

iinnd.
459 Flunh Fun, the Ferret; or, Dcndwood ltd-k Jr's Bit; Round-

‘-

465 l’llilo Fly. of l‘lu-nix; or, lléudwood Dick Jr's Rocket nt
('luiui lII.

47l Bolt-nut" Bill; or. Dd-udwoml Div-k .lr'a (‘orruL

476 "lllllboldi Harry, the liurrll'uno; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s
Dog Inter-live.

4‘” Nil)" .‘lj‘fltt'l'y; or, ih-udwtmd llit'k Jr. in “undo-nod.

491 iI’l'illt'e i'intol, the King of the West; or, Dendwood Dick
. r's t'mulmi-t. A

406 Monte (‘riitm J r.: or, Dnudwnhd Dirk Jr's lulu-rum”...

500 Doudwood Dlok‘n Dig lug: ; or, Dr. Deittll-Grlp'l Swoop.

508 Deadwood Divk’n Deliverance.

5l5 Deadwood Dir-k‘a i'rotogco.

522 Deadwood Dick's Three.

Other Novels by E. L. “’heelcr.

26 Cioven Hoof, the llutl‘uln Demon.
33 lloh Woolf; or. 'l'lm Hirl lh-nd-Shot.
89 Death-Fave. [loll-(11w; 0", Lil.- in New York,
45 Did Avalunohc: ur. Wild l‘ldnu. the Girl Brignnd.
58  Bludfloe. JP.. the lioy Phenix,
61 fluekhorn ltlll; or. The lied liille Town.
69 Gold Rifle, the shat- mhuntrr; or. The Buy Detocuvo.
80 Rosebud "Mr or. .'u;;p-t Md. ih . Knight.
84 idylg the Girl ‘iiller; or. Rout-l-ml ltoh on iinnd.
8 Photo rnph PM]; ur. llwlolrud Row. unmannm‘mfl
3 (lanai a Llwt; or, Uld Aunt-undo in Sitting; Bull‘s (.‘mrrr.
“’atoh-l'l e; or, Arnhs null Angels of». Great City.
Jack “0) e the Young Snvvulutur.
7 Gilt-Edged Dink. tlw Sp rt Detective.
l (‘inuamon ('hiu, thPilzrl Sport.
ii Bonanza liill. Miner.
8 lion “oh the King oi llonthllu‘kl.
1 Solid Elam the liuy RomlAAgcnt.
5 Ouptuln i‘erret, the New York Detective; or, Boss Bob’s

Hose 0 .

I New York No" the Dov-Girl Dokrtive.
77 Noblt Nick oi’ . 'evada; or, The Sierra! Scnmpg.
18'. Wild Mink, iln- linriukin llruvo.
209 Fritz, the lhuintl-Boy Detective.
218 Fritz to the [from g or, The, Vrnlrlloquint Hunter.
826 Snoozcr. the it 1; Sharp; or. The Arab Detective.
.36 Apollo "ill, the 'l'rnil 'I‘ornudo.
240 C ('lOlIe kit. the Young (ilrtdintof.
944 S erra ‘nux, tin. Frflllilvl‘ l"rrrrt.
24“ Sierra Sam‘s Hot-rot: or. The Bloody Footprints.
258 Sierra flmn’n l’rml; or. The Angel ut Big Vista.
258 Sierrn P‘om’n Seven; ur.'l‘lm Stolen Bride.
278 Jumbo Joe, the “my l'nirnl; or. The Kind Main.
277 Denver Doll. tha lh'tv‘rllve Queen.
281 Denver Doll‘u Victory.
9N6 Denver Doll’tt Decoy ; or. Little Bill’s Bonsnzn.
291 Turk, the Boy Ferret.
396 Denver Doll'n Drift: or. Tim Rond Queen.

99 A No. l. the Dunhing'l‘oll-Tuker.
808 ’Liza Jllu', ll'e ilrl Minor; or. tho lnm-Nerved Sport.
825 Kelley, "loin-v .l' Company. the Sleuth: of Philadelphia
380 Little invlufillott or. 'l‘h» lh-nd Fun- at Dnggcrsville.
884 Kanguroo K“: -r, The Mysterious Miner.
889 Ran uroo Kit‘n Racket.
848 Man nttnn Mike, tlw liownr)’ llhmd,
858 FirIt-Clunn Fri-d, lu- Hem il‘ulll Gopher.
80H "rein: Jim. the (.‘oid-thultorer; or, The Lottgry of

.I o
822 Yrelul Jim‘s i'r‘lzo.‘ ' '
8?! Kabob Ned: Ar, llw hwrrtnanh City.
3“? Cool Kit. lhv it'll y --I‘ l\'vd~; or. A V'illnln'q Vengmmm
335 Yrok. Jlrn'n Join-r: m'. 'l'ln- Rivals of Red No.6,
3N9 Bicycle “on: «I . 'i‘hu Lin" of Lightning Lode.
894 Yrekn Jim oi' Ynlm Dnlu. .
400 “’rinklen, thu NifllIlWVntt'li iu-tvrhve.
410 High lint Hurry. Ilm llnsn ihtll lh-tecllvo.
8 Ram Blah-idea. the. limmnr iiny llt‘lt't‘llve.
434 Jim Bulk and l’ul, l’rivuto Detectives.
433 Santa Fe Sill, tlw Slstulwr,
48¢ Seal-kin Sun. the Spurkiur.

aura-mesa

an Huuuuuu
afifi

uh
&

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN.

Ii The Two Detective" or, The Fortunes of: Bowery Girl.
70 Colt. the Crow-Killer.
79 0| 0| er. tlu- Uinht’l‘rn per.
as Joe Bum ' of Angola and "in Boy Ford.
7 New York Not. A This of Tricks and Traps in tit-thorn.
New In land Nit-k; or. The Fortnnu of: Fondling.
¥i-“§ Dick, the Circus Prince.

“3 “I 1 ed. tea Arimun Sport, 0
‘ I Odor-ado. tthsl dined Dentin.
l Color-Io in Now York.

l

 

BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAIIAM.

7 The Flying: Yankee: or, The Oconn (Juli-net.

7 Ralph Ho ', the llny iiilCl‘iIn-vt‘i‘; or. The Fugitive Yacht.

4 Diamond Dirk ' m‘, The Mystr-ry of the Yellowstone.

.2 The Shadow filling or. The Rivnl Lirutt-nunts.

5 The Boy Dnelint : or, The Cruise of the Sen-Wolf.

2 Dick Dond-Eve, the Boy Sunrugier.

l The Sen-Dev l g or, The Miduhlpmnn’s Legacy.

6 'l‘lle llnnunr Ca thin; or, The Hermit of Hell Gate.

7 Little Grit: or, ruin. the Sto<~k«'l'endrr'l Daughter.

04 Gold l’lnmo: or. The Kid-("love Sport.

lilnon Hill. the Prince oi the llrlul.

2 Grit. the Bravo “port: or, The Woman Trailer.

(‘rinn-on Kuto; or, Th.- (‘nwhoy‘a Triumph.

Lone Star. tlu- Cowboy (3n ttnin.

Merle the Mlddy ' or, 'i‘ha Freelnnm- lleir.

The )ildnhipmnu Mutlncor; or. ilrundt. the Buccaneer.

264 'Il‘lllt‘ Floatan Feather; or, Merle Montu’a Treasure
r: nnd.

The Gold Ship; or, Morin, [he Condemned.

976 Mlorl’e Monte‘u Cl'liilt‘; or, The Chuse of “The Gold

Slip.

.‘iorle lionto‘n Fate: or. Penrl, the Pirute‘s Bride.

4 The lion Mnraudvr; or, Merl.- Alonte‘s Pledge.

Hilly Blue-Even. tln- lloy Ron-r of the Rio (Grunda.

The Dead h‘hot Dame : or. ilemtu. the lloy Bugler.

Keno Kit: or. lit-ml Shut Ilnndy’i hunt-iv.

4 'Ill‘hel Mysterioun Marauder; or, The lloy Bugler's Long
l’ill -

Itonodel, the Boy Rover: or,'l‘he Finglsu Schooner.

8 The lndinn Pilot: or, 'l‘lu- Shun-h for Pirate lulnnd.

“'nrpath “'lll. tlu- liov I'lnuttolu.

ficnwnli'. the llo)‘ l.i«ulrlu|i|l.

luodor. tlu- Young (lot-Animator: or, The Fntnl League.

The liov ln-turm-nt: or. the Cuban Vendetta.

The “'lld Yuohtnmun; or, The Wur-(Jluud’r Cruise.

Dnm-am Dnrt‘. fill" "my Refugee.

A (‘ahln Iiov‘tl Luck; or, The Corsair.

The first Iin dor.

44! The (Noun Firefly ; or. A \liddy’s mernnve.

446 Iluphnznrd Ilnrr’v : or. The Si-npegrnn- of the Sea.

450 “'lzard “'III: or, l‘hn Hwy Ferret ol'New York.

Aitiir “'lzard “'lll’n St rot-t Hvoutn.

462 The liorn Guide; or. The Sailor Boy Wanderer.

468 Neptune Ned. tho it“): Conan-r.

474 Flora; or. \\'iy.nrd Will's Vuuuhond Pnrd.

4&8 Ferrell Afloat: or. Wmtrd Will‘s Lust (Jose.

4357 Nevada Nod. the lit-volwr itunger.

405 Arizona Jot- tln- lioy l‘urd ol'l'r-xnn Jack.

49? lhu-k Taylor, Kin: ol lhv- (Iowhoys.

503 The R03 nl Mlddy : or. The Shark and the Son Cut.

50? The lluutod .\‘lld~hi luau.

fill The Outlnwod Mid y.

.520 Hut-kukln “Ill. tlw (‘mnnnche Slindow.

525 Brother» in liuolmkln.

429
438
43?

BY CHAIN. IS MORRIS.

\ ..

“'lll Form-ran. (hr llov Dutectl‘v'e.

I'hll Ilurd ', ilu- It.“ it. y.
I'louynne 't-tt-z or, Nir‘mhrnms, the Dog Detective

Doteoiive Dick: or, ’l‘iw ileru tn Rugs.

Ilandnotno Harry, the ilnuthlm-k Detective.

\‘ill Wildlife, the 'l‘hnronghhred.

lurk "('tltl. Will WIldflrn's mer.

"to Mo y, iin- tiurhur l'olim Boy.

lll “'Iltmro In the \Voodn.

lily “luggage. the Railroad Boy.

’l‘rnmp (‘nrdg or. Will Wildhre Wins and Lam.

lob llookett z or, Mysteries nl‘ New York.

Bob lior-lmtt. lhv' lhulk Rnnnrr.

The Hidden llnnd‘ or, Will Wildfire'n Revenge.

7 Fred ilnlynrd. the die Boat Box; or. The Siuuxglerl.

1”” “ob Rocket“ or. Driven to the “'nll.

196 flhndowedt or, lloh Rm-kett‘s Fight for Life.

206 Dork i’unl. the Tiger King. \

212 Dar-hing Dave. the Dundy Detective.

220 Tom Tanner; or, The Hiurk flit-«p oi the Flock. \
2:“: Hum Chart-on] tlu- i’rmnlnm Durky.

255 filladow finln. thr- Mt-nsenger Buy.

242 The Two “ liloodn "3 or, Slmmindonh Bill and ills Gong.

252 Dick Dusllnway : or. A lhtkotn Boy in (‘lllcngm

262 The Young Nlouthn: t-r. Rollii‘kintz Mike‘s llot Trail.

274 Jolly Jill]. the llt'it‘l'uVI‘ A]: irenlim.

289 Jolly Jiln’n Jolt; or. Tho loom: Uriel-live.

2W" The “'ntcr-llound: or. 'l'ht- Yunut: 'l‘horoughhred.

805 Ila-lutway, ot’ Dakota: or, A \Vutern Lnd in tho Quaker

( It .
82 i illilph ilcndy. lhr- Hotel lloy Detective.
84! Tony 'l‘horuc. the Vuunlnvnd Detective.
858 The ileporter-Doteotlvoz or, Fred Flyor’s Bllmrd.
867 \t‘ lilo-Awake Joe: Mr, A iloy of the Tim".
879 Larry, the Loveler; or. 'l‘hu illuodn uitlm Boulovlrd.
403 Firefly Jock, tho River-Rut Dctoerllvo.
423 The Lord. It‘ln or; or, 'l‘ln- Entrnpped Cuhior.
42“ Fred Fiver. tfi- thmrtn-r llotertlvr.
482 invincible Lo nn. tho Pinkerton Ferret.
45“ lillly "rink. tw .lnllv Vnunhoud.
466 Wide-Awake Jerry, lit-tm‘tive; or, Entombed Alive.
470 Don't-live Dod c: or, The Mystery of Frank Hourly.
43" “'ild Dirk lint- 11.
501 Boots, the lioy Fireman 3 or, Too Sharp for the Sharper.

:N"
=a

sausrhnxr
is

Hflflddfl-I-s-iI-l-I-l—i-I—
a:i—:3‘"DNNN€:QG£
—->_
w

1 rant-t

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.

2 Yellowstone Jot-L: or. The Trill‘i‘l‘r-
4K "lili‘l" John. tln~ Rullll'ALZI'llli Ur. Tim Outlaw‘s Retrent.
6") l'lll‘l‘it‘illfl‘ lllll: or. Munlunu <nm nnd llis l'urd.
iiil “In-tan flan: or.’l‘lu- King nt’tlw Plains.
130 Night-l nwl.’ ’lt: or. 'l'ln- linughier of the Rnnvh.
144 Dnlnty Laure tho lilly Sport.
I"I Panther Paul: or, Uniuty Lunro tn the Revue.
0 The ltlnol.‘ lilnntt or. llniltl)‘ [mum in lopnrdy.
fl Deadly Din-h: or. Fighting l<'ln~r- Willi Firv.
t The Boy 'I'rnilt-rn: or. lhlinlv Lulu-.- oil the War-Path.
3 The "0 ' l’nrdu; hr. [minty Lam-u [innuiilllh
‘ (',.0ok(.‘ (“‘Ie, ihn (‘ulihno of('o|«nlinl City.
310 The ltarrnm-o “'oii': or. The llr-nutll'ul Decoy.
810 The "lllt'k Rider: or. The “"l’fit’»TlIit'\'eI’ Lcugno.
836'- Old Double Fintt "r. 'l he Simulat- Guide.
356 The King oi tlu- Wood-v or llvuuel Uuone’s LutTruil.
9 Kit Fox. the Bord" lloy Detective.

‘33::5

[gnu-ia—

ll" EDWARD S. ELLIS.

6 Bill Blddon, “homer.

8 Seth Jones; or '- Cnptlvas nttha Frontier.
Vat Todd ; or, The Fate of the Sioux Cnptlvo.
Tho Frontier Angel.
The Boy Mint-n; or. 'l'ho Eur-huan island.
The ilunted Hunter: or, The Strange Hunting,
854 The "inf-Blood: ur, 'l‘h- i'nnthsr attho Plslns.
The lingo "Inner; or, The Stun" Prairie NOI-

 

‘

BY BUFFALO BILL (lion. Wm. 1". Cody).

 

8 Hanson King; or. The Red Right Hand.
I9 ' ‘lte Phantom l!‘ y: or, The Pilot of the Prairie. , , -

55 Deadly-Eye. the lnknown Smut. ' ~ “'
68 riorder ‘Robin ilood: or, The l‘rnirie Rover. . ,w
168 1 any 1' rank of Color-ado; or, The Trupper’l Trust. 7-! l
f .

t

 

BY OLL COOMES.

5 Vagabond Joe. the Young Wandering Jew. '
8 The Dumb pr. ' . /
7 Anit‘lO N.‘ Alle, the Boy Guide. ”' 1.
3i Keen-knife, the l'rim‘e nl‘the l‘xniriel. v V ‘
4i Lillno Jflt'k, lllt‘ Young Mustang”.

5’4 The Border King; or. The Secret For.

7i Dolnwnre Dirk. the Y. rug l-l-umwr Spv.

74 llnwk-ovo Ilarrv, the Young Tinmler'R Igor.

‘

to

 

88 Rollo, tho lloy Ilnnuor. ‘ .V
134 Euro B'lloir NONI, lh- lin)‘ Rilloumu. L
148 Roar-Faro haul, ll r- Silent llunt. r. "‘i
146 Filvi'r Star. Um Pm Knight. K.
158 Eagle. Kit. theI lloy lit-mun. 
108 Little 'I‘cxnn, the Young Mmtnnger. fit
I73 Did Nollinr)‘. lIW “I‘llllll 'l'ruyper. ‘ ,1.

152 Little Illll'l'ii'lllfl‘, thu llov (‘npinim

202 Pro: out I't-tt-z 0". ’i'h.» ‘nuhu (lull-w iiunlrn.
20" The toy IIt‘H'lIlt-n: or. 'I hu l‘ruirio Trumps. ‘ -
2H3 Tiger Tom. the ’l'vxm 'i‘mi r. ,..
224 Dnuhlng llle: “1'. “Hum 'l'uul‘s i‘nullv. I
22" Little “'lldllr'o. l'w )5 mu: i’ruirlv N- mud.

288 The i’tIr-on Dvlt't'liu-i “l'. 'l he l.illlr Ranger. '
243 11“. "hanked “unto; hr, \\ lid Huron, the Ranger. “.1‘
260 Dare-Devil hull, tho You”; l‘tuii'io llnugur. '1}
272 Mink-Lin Mikm “W “0‘ >l“”‘l"l”‘“l”- "
290 Little Foxfire, the tiny wt.

 

 

30" The Sky Demon: or. ltuiuh. It. the Ranger. , r 
3H4 “'hin-I‘ing Joe, thr- llm iiumiwrn. I}:
409 lit-roulorr' or, [tn-k. llw ill-y liitllurr. -* u
4‘7 “’(‘Di‘OOt Alone. lllt‘ 'l'rnnllx ltwtr-rtivo, .I,

422 Bill)" sill! lllt- lioy (linllt oi iln- \'.«ll~wstone. 
444 Little ii knkln. the Young l‘ruirir ('enlnnr. 1".
45? “'lmzodi'oot Fri-d; or, Hid l'ohu Sun]. s
468 'l'nrnnrno Tom, tin- mu Tm \l-cr Boy.

4733 Did 'l'oln Rattler. tlw itr-d {ivcr Epidemic. .
482 Stonewall Bob, the Boy 'i‘mjun. . L

    

 

it" T. C. “ARBAUGII. .“

23 Nick 0’ the Night: or, 11». nay spy oi '7 . v .
87 The. llldds-n Lodge; or The Littlv Hunter. 1,,
4? Nightingale hut: t-r. 'l'vm Forent Cumulus. ‘ 
64 Dnnrl v .lnok: nr. 'l'lu- (lullqu oi the Oregon Troll. ‘ 
82 Kit I nrei'oot the WomLHnwk. j}
94 Midnight Jar-L: or. The ilny Trapper. ‘ "
106 Old Fronty, lllt' Guido-z or. Tln- \\'hih- Queen.
128 Klowu Charley the White hllwtnnuer. “
189 Jud re Lynn-h, .I r.: «r. The is. \' Vigilante. ‘ {.-
155 (loll Trigger. llh- Sn rl: vr. 'l‘lu- Girl Avenger. ‘3
169 ’l‘ornndo Tom: vr, lnhm .lm-k l‘rwin Red Core. . r I
188 Ned Temple. tlu- turder tiny. - "
IDK Arknnnuu': or Thu-lbw n nl lrnir‘n Revenge. 1 a,
207 Navajo Nick. hie, lluy Gold Hunter. J.
2l5 (‘aptuln ltullr-t : r-r. Llrth- Topknoi'n (“m-ado. .-

 

281 l’lueky l’ltll: or. Rush, the, it... Jozrllel. \ ’3
241 Bill Bravo: or, The Ronghrt of the Rankin. (-
255 (‘npialn Alton", the Kine l‘ln of Bowl», v“ r'»:
267 The linokukln Detootlve. ~, 

279 Old \thh; or, 'i‘lu- “winkin Dt-srverndnes.

294 Dynamite Dun; nr, The ilnwle i‘dnde of Cot-hetero.
302 The Mountain Detective; or. The Trigger Bar Bully.
816 Old l“.l'llp|l(‘. Trump Curd of Arizona.

326 The Tt‘il l’llrdn: or. The Terror nz‘Tnke-Notlco. -: L
336 "it: Houston; or, The Queen of the Ln'I-‘o. '3'-
345 l’ltilonn Matt; or, Red 'l‘lintulrrholt"s Secret.

350 Cool Nnnl nnd i’nrrl; o- The Terrible Six. ' " 
866 Velvet Foot, the lndinn Detective.

886 (‘aptaln (‘utlnut or, 1 he B"Ccnneor’s Girl For.

896 Rough Rob; or, The Twin Chnmplnns o! Rim: Elam.
411 The fluke" Lag-o; or, The Rose of Ranch Robin. n
418 Felix Fox, the Boy Spotter. r L
425 Texan Trump, the Border Rnttlrr. ' t.
430 PM] Flush, the New York Fox. '
445 The (My Sleuths; or, Red Rolfe’n Pigeon.

46] One Again-t Fihy; or, The Lust Mnn of Keno Ber.
470 The Boy Shadow: 0r, Felix Fox’s Hunt.

477 The Exoolnlor Sport; or, The Washington Spotter.
499 Single Fight. the (luv-Eyml Sport.

502 Brandt-d lieu, the Night Fern-i. I
512 Dodger Dick. the Whnrf-Spy Detective. I, ' ,‘i
621 Dodger Dick's Best Dodge. 4

LATEST AND NEW ISSUES. 

5‘27 The Jolly Pords to the Reno-e. By l’. 8. Warm. .r.
5‘28 Fox and Falcon. the Bowery Shadows. By T. C. linrtmugh. ‘ ’

529 Deadwood Dick‘s Danger Ducks. By E. L. Wheeler. 
530 The Bucknkin Bowen. By Col. 1". lumhnm. ~'_ 
581 Daily Dare. tln- Sport from Dom-er. By: William G. Patton. 
582 The Cowboy Duke. By Edwin Brooke Forrest. )5;
7

538 “'reltllng' Rex. the Pridv of the Sixth Wnrd. By Jo Pierce. ‘ijil ?
584 Deadwood Dick's Dentin "Int. By E. L. wheel".
i‘wudy ()ctolrer is.

585 The lluo' Iliill flown-n.
H: mly Ut-tolwr ‘25.

586 ’t- on “13' Billy"! “ Diilkilty.” By J. C. Cowdrlck.

By Col. Prentiss ingrnhnm.

in 4in 'uwmher l. l V ‘ J
587 Old Buckeye. the Sierra Slrutll. By J. W. Osborn. ii
Rudy Novernhcr 8. .
‘89 Do or Dial: the Dock Ferrel. B ' T. C. Huh 3. ' .
Rug: Round»; 15. 5 n l x .V‘ Y‘
A New Issue Every Tuna.” ' c ’. .1 7.‘

The Half-Dine Library is for this by oil meaning!"
“It. par any], or out by mail on rrceipt old: «at. out.

smut um ADAIS. Putts-Inn. ‘ l. »

OI Willin- Strcot, New Yul. i V {‘3