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Copyright, 1983. by 8mm AND ADAMS. Non-mlwr was.

 

7' Sin 1 PUBLISHED \VEEI'LY BY BEADLE AVD ADAMS P ' . v
V01.  Numfieer. x L , 5 égiis. NO.  1 o

No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK.

BLACK NICK, The Demon Rider; or, The Mountain Queen’s Warning.

 

 

 

CAPTAIN FREDERICK WHITTAKER,

AUTHOR OF “ THE DUMB PAGE,"

BY

“DICK DARLING," ETC., ETC.

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SMOKE PBOCEEDING FROM HIS MOUTH, WHILE A STREAM OF SPARKS CAME FROM THE MUZZLE OF HIS HORSE.

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0N A. BLACK HORSE, FLAMES AND

 

I

 

  

 

2

Black Nick, the Demon Rider.

 

Black Nick,
The DEMON RIDER;

1

The Mountain Queen’s Warning.

A Story of the Great Campaign.

 

BY CAPT. FREDERICK WHITTAKL‘R,

aurnoa or “run DUMB PAGE,” “DICK DAR-
LING," ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER I.‘
THE WOOD FIEN'D.

.IN the midst of the lonely forest that stretched
in an almost unbroken line of solitude from the
head-waters of the Hudson to the Mississi pi,
during the last century, a small party of In no
warriors in full war-paint, treading one in the
other’s footsteps, to the number of five, stole in-
to a little clearing formed by the hand of Na-
ture, and halted by a spring.

The sun was about to set in an angry low of
crimson that portended bad weather. T a fiery
beams shot aslaut through the open arches of
the forest, and the trunks of the trees stood out
as black as jet against the red glow of evening.

“He has not been here,” remarked the war—
rior who seemed to be the leader, as he scanned
the earth around the little spring with a prac-
ticed eye. _

“ The pale-faces are all liars,” said a young
brave disdainfull as he leaned upon his bow.
"‘ When was a ohawk known to break his

 

word?” .

“ The Panther Cub is wrong,” he said qiiietly.
“There are good and bad pale-faces. have
never known the white chief to fall before. He
has been stopped on the way. He will soon
come and show us how to strike the children
who have rebelled against the great father who
dwells be 0nd the sea.”

“The ohawk needs no white teacher ” re-
turned Panther Quh in the same tone. " can
find a house to strike, and scalps to take, long
before the morninfirdawns, if need be.”

“ Has the Black ox lost his eyes, that Pan-
ther Cub thinks he is the only Mohawk that can
see in the night?” asked the old chief sternly.
“Let the oung warriors be silent while they
have chie s on the same war-path. We have
eaten of the white father’s bread, and he has or-
dered us here to await his messenger. Black Fox
will stay.” . _ _

As he s ks, he leaned his rifle against the
tree b ' w ich he stood, drew up his blanket
aroun his shoulders, and took his seat in digni-
fied silence. .

The other warriors, as if determined by his
example, proceeded to make their dispositions
for the night. A flint and steel were produce
tinder was found in a dead tree, and 9. sm

lowing fire was soon started. around which the
Indians clustered, eating their frugal meal of
dried venison and parched corn in silence.

These Indians were a small scouting-party
from the flankers of Burgoyne’s army, who had
been dispatched through the woods to the west
of Albany to meet an emissa of the British
Government, who was to give hem certain in-
structions.

Slowl the sun disappeared as they clustered
round 1: 9 fire, and the crimson glow died away
in the sky, to be replaced by a murky mass of
cloud of dark slaty gray, rapidly. becoming
black. Overhead the stars shone out,but the
clouds began to gather and hide them from View
and ‘ a low meaning in - the tops of the trees
warned the hearers of a storm brewing. ’

Suddenly, as if b common consent, every In-
dian sprung to his set and grasped his weapons,
as the sound of snapping sticks, and of horse-

hoofs in rapid. me on approached the spot.
There was no underbrush in those rimeval for~
eats. as yet innocent of the ax of t e woodman,
and a horsemafl could be seen in full career, ra-
pidl approaching the little lade.

Aga word from the .chief be four warriors
resumed their seats b the fire, while the old
leader himself stalked orth' from the group and
drawing himself up, awaited the coming of the
stranger in an attitude of dignity, grounding
the butt of his rifle.

The new-comer proved to be a man of large
size, with a stern, determined face, gloom and
lowering in expression. He was dressed ike a

farmer, and well mounted on a stout horse, car-
r ing holsters on the saddle from which peeped
t e buts of large pistols. OtherWise the rider

was unarmed, only carrying a horse-whip. He
checked his horse and dismounted before Black
Fox, who addressed him with the grave re-
minder:

“ The Ni ht Hawk is late.”

“I coul u’t be earlier, Fox,” returned the
other, in the Mohawk tongue. “ I was fired at
by Schuyler’s ickets, and chased out of my
path by a patro of the cursed mounted rifles of
that fellow, Morgan. Here Iam at last. Go
back to the general, and let him know that the
rebels are rousing everywhere. Schu ler has
sent orders to rescue the fort beyond riskany
at any cost, and they will march in two days
from now, a thousand stron , under General
Herkimer, to raise the siege. ave you a swift
runner here?"

“The Panther Cub has long legs. He shall
carry the Night Walker’s words,” said the chief,
sententiousiv.

“ Good. Let him run to General St. Leger,
and warn him that his rear will be attacked,”
said the spy. “ For the rest, back to Burgoyne.
Tell the general his foes are gathering. He
must spring like the wild-cat, or he will be
trapped like the beaver. Tell him I will brin
him more news by way of the lakes, an
that—”

“Hal HA! HA! HA!
GATHEB rm ml"

The interruption was sudden and startling.
Aloud harsh voice, with an accent of indes-
cribabl triumphant mockery, shouted these
words rom the midst of the intense darkness,
which had crept over the scene during the short
conference, since sunset. At the same moment,
out of the opening of a hollow tree that stood
near the fire, a bri ht, crimson glare of flame
proceeded, in the m dst of which appeared an
unearthly figure of gigantic hight, but lean and
attenuated as a skeleton.

The avenues of this figure was singular)
fearful, or it was clothed in some ti ht blac
dress with steely gleams, that cover it from
head to foot, 8. pair of short, upright horns pro-
jecting from the close skull-cap, and only leav-
ing exposed a face of deathly pallor, with great,
burnin black eyes, and a mustache that
points upward in true diabolical fashion.

There was but a moment to examine this fig-
ure, as it stood in the cavit , outlined against
the red glow. In one han it brandished a
single javeliu, in the other a. bundle of similar
darts. A second later the red glow disa peered,
and the figure with ir, leaving the usua ly stolid
Indians and their companion struck aghast with
astonishment and awe.

Then, ere a word could be spoken, the same
demoniac lau h rung out, and the gigantic ap-
paritiOD, Wit a bound, was in the midst of
their little fire, which it scattered in all direc-
tions with a. single kick.

Through the thick darkness that ensued, the
white man heard the noise of a confused
struggle, that seemed to endure for about half
a minute. Firm and determined as was the

, he recolled in ungOVernable terror to the
330 of his horse, and snatched from the holsters
his istols, one of which he fired in the direction
of t e sounds of battle. .

By the flash of the pistol be distinguished the.
terrible figure, in an attitude of mad glee,
brandishing its darts ovsr the prostrate bodies
of three In ians, the fourth strivin to rise, and
transfixed with a dart, while the fth was‘flee-
ing for his life toward the spy. Instinctively'
the white man climbed on his horse in the dark-
ness, as a wild peal of laughter greeted his
shot. I .

He had seen the demon leaping toward him!

“Ha! HA! Halli BLACK NICK ins mm
FAST!” yelled the harsh voice. and again, as if
by magic, 11 red glow flashed over the place.

In the midst of this glare, the spy beheld the

black demon clutch the fleein Indian with his
long arms, and o lea ing bac toward the hol-
low tree, with t e.wr thing form of the savage
close clasped. Then there was a blinding white
glare, a cloud' of smoke, and a loud re rt, in
the midst of which the demon leaped utothe
hollow, and vanished from sight, smking Visibly
into a pit of darkness.
4 With 'a. muttered groan of terror, the now
complete] unnerved sp wheeled round. his
fri hten horse and fi as fast as the animal
cou d carry him. while the forest resumed the
gloom and silence of night.

I GATKEB rum ml I

 

CHAPTER II.
m AIDE nn-camr’s mscovrzav.

THERE are few sights in the world as beauti-
ful as an American mountain-side, clothed With

 

forest to the summit, when early frosts have

begun to touch the leaves, and wake them into
co or.

In the midst of the wild mountains of Ver-
mont, in thOSe days almost deserted by human
bein s, a young man on horseback was pursu-
ing is way at a smart trot along a narrow
road that wound round the lower ridges. in a
way that showed the ingenuity of the rustic
engineers in economizing labor.

0 all appearance there was not a creature in
sight, save the wild animals and the lonel
traveler who pursued the path as if he knew i’t
well. Once, when he stopped to water his
horse at a stream, he startled a herd of deer
who were coming to drink, and caused them to
scurry away throu h the bushes in alarm.

The young trave er looked around him as the
deer vanished in the thicket, with great admi-
ration. He was in the midst of a small valley,
hemmed in by rounded mountains, and through
the midst of .Which ran a brown, brawling
stream, in which the spotted trout layed by
hundreds. The mountains were clotlied to the
very sammit with woods, and although it was
not at the end of August, light home had al-
rca y been there in the long nights on the
mountain—sides. are and there amid the
green blazed out the scarlet of a disiant tree,
half of whose folia e had been touched as with
a fiery pencil,wh e the verdnre of the rest
look fresher by contrast. Now and then the
olden hue of a maple shed a glory of color over
its vicinity, but there was, as yet, only enough
of this to set off the somber-green of the pines
and the lighter foliage of the oak and birch.

The traveler was a young man and hand-
Some withal. His dress was perhaps the most

lcturesque in the annals of military history,
or the youth was evidently a soldier, and an
officer at that. The towering. fur cap, narrow-
ing as it rose, and ornamented with gold cord
and white plumes, the furred and braided
jacket, hanging from his shoulder, the still
more gorgeous dolman that fitted his slight
form to a nicety blazing with gold embroidery,
allover the sky-blue round of the breast. the
light buckskin breec as, with braided pocket-
covers, and the scarlet morocco boots, rising
mid-leg and tas-eled with gold, were uniaillng
indications to the eye practiced in military
costume that the wearer was an officer of some
German corps of hussars, then at tbe'zenith of
their reputation under the great Frederick of
Prussia. The ouu hussar was magniflc-n'ly
mounted on a app e-gray horse of w: ndeiful
bone and sinew, though quite low in flesh from
campaigning, and his housings were as splendid
as his dress and arms. The latter, saber,
pistols, and light carbine, were all silver inlaid,
‘and of ex uisite finish.

To a hi den observer, the si ht of this gay
cavalier, alone in the wilds of ermont, would
have sug ested great wonder. HOW came be
there, and what was he doing? In those early
days of the Revolutionary struggle rags and
bare feet were the rule, brilliant uniforms the
exce tions. There was no corps of bussars in
the ntinental service, and the Hessians. on
the English side, were green, not.pale blue.
Besides, the uniform of the hussar oflicer was
distinctivelly Prussian, the black eagle being
worked on his horse’s housings.

Whatever he was, he seemed to be quite at
home in the woods, for his blue eye was calm
and fearless, and the long, fair mustache that
drooped over his chin covered as resolute a
mouth as ever closed firmly over shut teeth.

Having allowed his beast to drink, the young
cavalier urged him through the water to
the other side, and trotted briskly u the lonely
road between the archesof the woo , till he had
stopped opposite the ridge, and beheld before
him another valley and more hills.

The ridge on which he stood happened to
command an extensive view; raining up, he
scanned it with a practiced eye. _

“ By heavens l” he exclaimed to himseif, in a
low tone, after a long and searching look;
“ there is some one living on the haunted hill,
where even the Indians would not dare to go.
I must investigate that.” o .

So saying, he shook his .rein, and galloped
down the illside, in the direction of a moun-
tain, the largest of any in sight, from the side
of which a thin column of smoke curled up in
the air.

Nothing very strange in that it may be said;
but the young oflicer knew better.

He was passing through a country in Which
there was no settlement in the path he was
riding. till he came to Derryfield. The menu-
tain before him was well known by the name
of “ Haunted Hill ” to the whites, and had the
reputation of being haunted by a demon, who

 

 

 

Black Nick, the Demon Rider.

 

frightened away all the Indians who ventured
near it. This was well known to the young
cavalier, who, being free from superstition, ha
chosen that way to escape any danger from the
outlying Indians of Burgoyne’s army, then
lying between Ticonderoga and Albany, slowly
advancing. The young oilicer himse f was on
the staff of General Schuyler, who was then re-
treating before his formidable foe, and who had
sent the aidede-camp on a secret mission on
which he was now proceeding.

The sight of smoke on the side of the Haunted
Hill excited the curiosity of the young officer.
Smoke meant settled habitation. No Indian
could be there, he felt certain, on account of.
their superstitious fears of the mountain demon.
If any one else were there, might he not prove
to be in some way connected with the m stery
of the demon? Full of curiosity, and or the
moment- forgetting his mission, the young aidea
de-camp crossed the valley, and commenced to
toil up the sides of Haunted Hill.

He was not aware, keen as was his glance,
that one still keener was watching him. Hard-
ly had he gained the foot of the mountain, than
an Indian warrior looked out of the cover he
had quitted, and giving a. rapid signal to some
one behind, plunged down the hillside, skirting
the road and keeping the cover, followed at a
lopin; trot by at least a. dozen more, in full
war—paint.

The course of the sava as was after the cava-
lier, and so rapidl ' di the run, that they
reached the footo the hill efore he had got
half-way up the side of Haunted Hill.

It is true that the hussar had slackened his
pace, and was now toiling up the steep ascent,
holding by the mane of his steed. The Indians,
on the other hand, pressed along at the same
rapid, tireless lope, and quickly came in si ht
of the aide-de—camp, whose steps they seems: to
be dogging with true savage pertinacity.

Once having him safe in sight, the warriors
slackened their pace, and contented themselves
with following, step b step, gliding from tree
to tree, and keeping t emselvos carefully hid-

en.

Meanwhile, the young officer pursued his way
up the hill in the direction that promised to
bring him close to the mysterious smoke which
had excited his curiosity).

In half an hour’s clim ing he had reached the
summit of the lower ridge of Haunted Hill, and
beheld before him a. little basin, scoo ed by the
hand of Nature in the side of the hi I, about a
hundred yards across, bare of wood, in the cen-
ter of which stood a low stone hut, thatched
with fir branches, from the summit of which
curled the blue smoke that he had first noticed.

The little basin was bounded on one side by a.
precipice of rock about fifty feet in hight,
crowned with trees, and surmounted by the
steep ascent of the upper mountain. At the
right it ended abruptly in a second. precipice,
which fell awa into the valley, while the tops
of lofty trees low just showed themselves
ovar the edge. The forest bounded the other
side, and a little spring trickled over the edge
of the lower precipice with a tinkling sound.

But what riveted the attention of the oath,
was a group that he discovered in the midst of
(tihe little valley standing in front of the cabin

oor.

Several tame deer were crowding eagerly
around, a young slrl. In a} quaint, lcturesque
dress, in strange proximity to a huge black
bear and three tal bloodhounds of the largest
breed.

The omcer reined in his horse in amazement
as he looked, and ejaculated aloud:

“ Heavens! It is Diana herself.”

CHAPTER III.
THE ROCK NYMPH.

Tin: sight of the horseman in that lonely lace
excited a strange commotion. Hardly he the
young officer uttered his involuntary exclama-
tion, when the three hounds set up a loud bay-
ing, and came leaping toward him. the black
bear waddled after them, while the timid fawns
bounded away into the forest in great alarm.

The girl herself, who seemed to be the mis-
tress of this menagerie, turned toward the
stranger With the port of the goddess to whom
he had compared her. In truth, she resembled
nothing so much as a living statue of Diana, for
she wore the same short tunic and baskins, and
carried the bow and quiver of the atroness of
hunting. Her figure and face, wit the simple
antique knot in which her hair was arranged,
confirmed the likeness; and when she hastily
fitted an arrow to the bow she carried, it seemed
to the young soldier as if he had indeed insulted
the privacy of some supernatural being.

 

 

Most men in his position would have either
turned to flee or made some motion of defense.
Not so the hussar.

He remained sitting on his horse, in spite of
the menacin appeaianoe of the bloodhounds,
without movmg a muscle: and the dogs as soon
as they CIOsed in, justified his course, by cens-
ing to bay, while they ran inquisitively round,
snufiin at the horse’s legs, now and then utter-
ing a ow rowl, but offering no actual vio-
lence. The lack bear likewise became peacea-
ble, halting at a little distance and sitting u on
its haunches, surveying the intruder wit a.
comical air of wisdom.

The girl who had been disturbed, observing
the passive attitude of the hussar, hesitated a.
moment, and finally advanced toward him, with
the same haughty and insulted aspect however.

As she came closer, and her eyes ran over the
face and equipments of the intruder. the severity
of her glance insensibly relaxed. It was not in
female nature to look cross at such a dashing
young cavalier. He on his part surveyed her
with increasing admiration, as he beheld her
purely Grecian face with its frame of golden
hair, ighted by reat solemn blue 0 es.

The girl was t s first to speak, in a tone of
displeasure.

“ Do you know where you are, sir?” she
asked. ‘What made you venture “where all
men shun to go?”

“ Fairest Diana,” an the hussar, half-won-
dering if he were not eaming.

The girl interrupted him with an expression
of surprise.

“ How? You know my name?”

"How could I mistake it?” said the hussar,
with great adroitness. “The beauty of Diana
is famous the world over, and I am the humblest
of her worshipers.”

The girl looked at him in amazement. She
could not see that the accomplished man of the
world was but taking advantage of a lucky
accident, to feel his way into her confidence,
by a mingling of truth and falsehood in his man-
ner.

“ Then who are you that knows me so well?”
she asked, artlessly. “ I never thought human
creature would come nigh our cottage, and you
say it is famous.”

‘ For my name,” said the hussar smilin ,
“ you may call me Captain Schuyler, if you wi .
If you would like a shorter name and a plea-
santer one, call me Adrian.”

“ Adrian is a prett name," said the girl,
smiling with the fran ,fearless innocence that
distinguished her every action. “Adrian and
Diana are both beautiful.”

“ Diana is beautiful,” said the hussar, mean-
ingl ; “ how beautiful no one knows but me.”

Diana looked up to him inquiringly. Then
something seemed to inform her of his meaning,
for she flushed hotly and drew herself up with
sudden haughtiness, asking:

“ What brought you here? Do you not know
that it is death to intrude on this mountain?
Even the wild Indian shuns it."

“ I have heard that a demon haunts it,” said
the hussar, boldly; “ but I never dreamed that
it were such a shape as yours.”

At the bold words of the intruder Diana
turned pale, and looked apprehensively around
her, saying in low tones:

“Do not mention him, foolish Adrian. He
will seize you and plunge on into a fiery pit
if he hears you. Away, w ile you havo time,
or you may repent it. Any moment he may
be ere ”

“ In that case I should like to see him,” said
Schuyler. coolly. “I don't believe in demons,
Diana. Your demon is a man, and I am
curious to see him. I rode over here expressly
to do that.”

“You rode ovar here to dare the Mountain
Demon?” asked the girl, in a faint tone, as if
wonder-stricken. “Man, are youmadi I tell
you he has killed every creature that has passed
this way for years, and he will kill you, if he
finds you.”

The captain of hussars laughed carelessly,
and threw up the flag of one of his holsters,
from whence hegroduced a long pistol of ele-
gant finish, and ouble-barreled.

“That, for his demoniac majesty,”he said,
holding up the weapon, “and let him beware
how he crosses my path. I have—”

He was interrupted by a suspigious growl
from one of the bounds, who had on couched
0“ the Erass in seeming contentment since the
conference had become peaceful.

The animal rose to his feet and stalked to the
edge of the glade, followed by his three com-
panions, snufling and growling.

A moment later an arrow came from the

 

3

 

cover of the mountain-side, grazed the neck of
the foremost hound, and whizzed past the huz-
zar, sticking harnilcssly in a tree.

The three hounds set up a simultaneous sav—
age bay and dashed headlong into the cowr,
from whence, a moment later, rose the appal-
ling war-whoop of the Mohawk, asa dozen war-
riors sprung out, and rushed toward Schuyler
and Diana.

In a moment a fierce contest hlld commenced,
the gallant hounds each pinning an Indian by
the throat, while the bear rushed into the fight
with a savage growl. Adrian Schuyler shot
down a savage with his pistol, and wounded a ‘
second, then drew his saber, and instinctively
looked around for the mysterious girl Diana.

She had vanished, as if the earth bud swal-
lowed her upl

He was too much confused by the sudden at-
tack to think of where she had gone. Already
two of the hounds were rip d up by Indian
scalping-knives, and the third was transfixsd
with an arrow.

As he turned toward the Indians, his horse
plunging and rearing, the flashes of several rifles
were fol owed by a sharp tin ling sensation in
his side, and two warriors seize his bridle, while
a third rushed at him, tomahawk in hand.

But the hussar was not the man to yield to a
surprise. His keen saber played round his head
iikea flash of light, and in a trice he had cut
down one assailant, while the other let go the
bridle to escape a secord blow.

With a about of triumph he dashed in his
spurs, and the gray charger took him clear of
his enemies with a bound. Then, lying down
on his saddle to escape the bullets, away went
Captain Adrian Schuyler late of the Zieten
Hussars of Prussia, at full speed, through the
clearing passing the stone but, which seemed
to be quite deserted, and darting into the forest
bayou .

Arrows and bullets whistled past him as he
went, but he was untouched, save by the first
graze which he had lately felt. He heard the

ndians whooping behind him. and doubted not
that they were pursuing, but he felt secure on
his swift steed, and his only anxiety seemed to
be as to the safety of the strange girl who
called herself Diana. -

Where she had gone, and whether the Indians
had seen her, was an enigma to him as he fled
away, but he had no time to lose. The young
aide-de-cam was even then on an important
mission, an his detour to the Haunted Moun-
tain had cost him va!uabie time.

Fully resolved to return with suflicient force
to investigate the mystery at some future time,
the officer galloped on through the woods till he
regained once more the road to Derryfleld, and
pursued his journey at a gallop.

CHAPTER IV.
min YOUNG CAPTAIN’S omens.

THE sun was within about an hour of setting
behind the western ridges of the Green Moun-
tains as a tall, heavily-built man, with strong,
sullen face, sat at the door of a log-cabin,
within a few miles of the settlement of Derry-
field, looking across a lonely valley.

The attire of this indiv dual was that of a
farmer, and a little patch, of about half an
acre, behind his cabin, showed by its ripening
corn that his occupation was not wholly a fic-
tion. Still, a certain air of neglect about cabin
and owner, and the presence 0 a long rifle that
lay across his knees, announced that his farming
was at least eked out by hunting, if not subor-
dinated thereto.

Although only a few miles from a settlement,
the scene around the seated man was completely
wild and lonely. so much so that the people had
christened the owner the “ Mountain Hermit.”
His solitary habits and sullen manner repelled
strangers from formin his acquaintance, and
even his name was an own to any one in the
country-side.

He had first made his agpearance there about
three years before, had uilt his own cabin in
that solitary lace, and resided there ever
since. The on y occasions he was ever seen
away were when some hunter caught sight of
him in the woods on the same errand as himself.
and it remained a mystery where he rocured
powder and lead, for he never enter Derry-
field to buy any.

Since the advance of Burgo ne’s army

eople ceased to watch him. t was well
n0wn that hordes of Indians were prowling
about in the vicinity of every settlement. and
no one dared to venture away alone. Still the

Mountain Hermit remained in his cabin. as if
insensible to danger, although “Indian sign”

 

 

    

4 Black Nick, the Demon Rider.

 

 

 

had been seen more than once near his little
clearing.

On the evening in question he sat gazing at
the sunset and soliloquizing, accor ling to the
habit of most lonely men.

“ Let them come,” he muttered. “ They can-
not do as much harm to the Puritanical hounds
as I wish them. Let them scalp the women if
they please. There will be so many rebel brats
the less, to grow up into boors. Let them abuse
me. I can stand the name of renegade if I
get my revenge. Lat us see their Washington,
that they boast so much of, help them out of this
scrape.”

’ As he spoke his frown grew dark and gloomy
and he rose to his feet. His manner was fretful
and impatient.

“Why don’t the fools come?” he muttered.
“When there is no danger, who so bold as an
Indian? Let them once get a ood scare, and
you cannot drive them into batt e. It is beyond
the chief’s time—no—there he comes. After all,
the brutes keep faith.”

At the moment he uttered the last words the
stately form of an Indian chief stepped into the
clearing, as if he had issued from the ground,
and calmly advanced toward the recluse.

The new—comer was a Mohawk on the war-

tb, from his paint and other peculiarities.

e carried a short ride over his arm, and saluted
the hermit with grave courtesy.

The white man opened the conversation with
an air of authority to which the Indian sub-
mitted quietly.

“rhearskin is ready. Where are his warri-
era

The chief waved his hand toward the exit of
the valley.

“ My brothers are in camp by the white road
,that leads to the town! They await the Night
Hawk’s orders.”

“Good. It is new moon. When the moon
ainks I will be there. Let them stop every one
that passes by the road; but no firing. Let the
arrow do its work silently. Is the town well
iwatched all round?”

“Not a creature will escape. My warriors
are like the web of the spider, the white men
are like the flies. We shall suck their blood
before morning, and the squaws will be tired of
counting the scalps.”

“ It is good,” said the Mountain Hermit, with
a grim smile. “ Let Bearskin watch well. Has
anv one come along the road to-dayi”

0 Indian answered not for a moment. His
quick ear had caught a sound to which the other
was insensible, and he stood with his head bent
on one side listening intently.

“ One comes now,” said the white man, quick-
ly. “ Do not kill him on the road, or the sight
ma deter others. Drag him into the forest
an keep him till I come. ’

The lndian nodded silently and plunged into
the forest in a direction that promised to take
him toward the road that crossed the foot of
the valley almost within sight of the clearing.

The recluse remained a moment listening,
and presently caught the sounds which the
Ticker senses of the chief had first announced.
. horseman was evidentl galloping along the
road toward him, and t e clatter of spur and
acabbard told the nature of the traveler with-
out words.

The recluse cast his rifle into the hollow of his
arm and struck across. the valle to a point

.where he could intersect the roe in its man
curves at a much nearer point. He was a litt a
curious to see who the advancing dragoon
_ Iii ht be.
here was still plenty of light, although the
sun was fast nearing the mountain-tops, and
aha long strides of the Mountain Hermit took
him across the stretch of woods that barred
him from the road in a ver short time.

As he neared it the soun of horse-hoofs and
the clatter of a saber-scabbard were plainly
audible, skirting the mountainside be and.

At the point which the recluse ha, reached,
the road came round a spar over the dividing
ridge, and dived into the valley beyond. Wait-
lng a few moments, till the sound of hoofs was
close by, the Mountain Hermit stalked boldly
info the road, just as the young hussar captain
dashed around the Corner.

At the sight of the stranger’s figure Adrian
Schuyler abruptly halted, throwing his horse
on its haunches close to the other, while the
sharp click of his pistol—lock enforced the stern
command, “ Halt!” '

The stranger quietly turned and faced the
hussar with a sullen frown, asking:

“Who are you to halt a peaceable farmer!
I've as much right as you, and more, in this
mace."

 

“Perhaps 80,” said the hussar. coolly; “but
in war time we of the light cavalry take liber-
ties that we support with our weapons. Who
are you?”

“A peaceable farmer, as I said before,” an-
swered the other, with a sullen scowl. “ Who
are on?”

“ n officer on duty, my man, who doesn’t
care to be trifled with. here are too many
Indians and spies loose in these mountains for
me to trust strangers. If you’re a peaceable
inrmeriiyou’re as sulky a lookin one as l have
seen. ow far is it to Derryfiel ?”

“ Four miles,” said the sullen stranger, grufl-
13'. Then he turned away as if the colloquy
was terminated, but the hussar was not gomg
to let him ofi.’ so easy.

“Haiti” he again cried, in his shar
covering the other with his pistol. “
other step and it’s your last. ’

The stranger obeyed the order with his usual
sullen air, but the hussar’s voice showed that he
was in earnest.

“ Look here, Mr. Officer.” began the stranger,
in a tone of injury, “ I don’t see what you have
against me to treat me in this way. Let me
alone, or by the Lord, we’ll see if my rifle ain’t
as ood as your pistol.”

he hussar was close to him as he spoke, and
he was already beginning to handle his long
rifle, when Adrian’s horse, obedient to his mas-
ter’s will, made a sudden leap, which brought
tllae soldier’s left hand to the shoulder of the re-
c use.

In a moment the muzzle cf the pistol was at
the sullen stranger’s ear, as Adrian sternly or-
dered him:

“ Fire in the air, quick, or 1 fire here. Not a
word. Fire!”

The sullen man cast one savage look at the
hussar’s face, but the menace he met there was
so unyielding that he obe ed the order.

The harmless rifie—bul et whistled skyward,
and the sharp report waked the echoes for
miles around as the now disarmed man stood
glaring defiantly at the hussar.

“ Now drop your gun,” said Adrian, sternly.

The stranger obeyed, still with the same
scowl.

“ It’s my impression,” pursued the ofilcer.
grimly, “ that you’re a spy of some sortor you‘d
have treated a patriot officer with more cour-
tesy. Unbuckle your belt, and drop it. I see

on havo a knife still. No fooling, sir. I shall
fu,lly justified in shooting you, if you hesi-
tate. ’

The stran er, without a‘word, did as he was
told, still 100 ing up at the hussar with the same
defiant scowl as ever. The soldier still keeping
his strange captive under his e e, dived into the
gay sabar-tasche that dangled side his sword,
and produced therefrom a. pair of delicate steel
handcuffs

“ Hold up your hands,” he said quietly, “ I'm
going to take you into Derryfield, dead or
alive.”

Still the stranger spoke not a word. His face
wore the same expression of bitter ra e, with-
out a trace of fear, though he stood t are dis-
armed and helpless. He held up his hands, and
allowed Schuyler to handcufl him without a.
struggle.‘ Then, as the officer passed a cord be-
tween his manacled wrists and fastened it to
his saddle-bow, he uttered a short laugh of bit-
ter mockery.

The captain did not deign to notice it.

“ Go on,” he said, spurring as his horse,
“ and run your best, or you ll ad yourself
dra ged.” I

a set of! at a slow trot, the prisoner running
alongside with surprising power, and took the
road to Derryfield.

CHAPTER V.

TURNING THE TABLES.

CAPTAIN ADRIAN Gamma pursued his way
toward Derr field, pistol in hand, keeping a
vigilant wa over his prisoner. The alterca-
tion on the road had detained him so lon that
the sun had kissed the mountain-tops are a had
crossed the valley, and a dark shadow had crept
over the landscape.

The hussar felt uneasy, he hardly knew why
but the defiant manner of his risoner had
roused strange misgivings in his roast. Still
nothing occurred to disturb him on his passage
through the valley; and as he crosSed the ridge
on the other side, he came in sight of the village
of Derryfield, nestling in the wide valley,
through which ran a. large tributary of the Con-
necticut, while the glimmer of lights sole
throu h the thering darkness.

“ T ank even, in sight at last!” ejaculated

tones,
ove an-

 

the oflccr, as he involuntarily pulled up to gaze
at the scene. The outlines of houses could be
distinguished in the twilight, but as some three
miles still intervened, everything was m-is'y
and unCertain. The lmssar chinqu to his
horse, and was about to iide on. when the:
hitherto silent prisoner suddenly woke into ter-
rible life and activity.

Seizing the soldier by the belt with his mana-
rled hands with the strength of a giant, be en-
deavored to drag him down from the saddle.
uttering a shour as he did so.

The hussar, though slight of frame, seemed to
possess considerable nerve and activity, for he
resisted the effort with great adroitness by
throwing himself to the further side of the sad-
gleawhile he instinctively leveled his pistol and

re .

The grim recluse uttered a savage cry of pain
as the bullet lou ed his shoulder, and grappled
the slender soiziier with such power that he lost;
astirrup, let go his bridle and tried to push
away his assailant with his left hand while be
cooked the other barrel of his pistol with his
ri ht.

ow the struggle might have terminated is
uncertain, but just as the soldier was almost out
of the saddle and bringing his pistol to hear, a
sccre of dark forms sprung from the roadside,
and Adrian Schuyler was seized by strong
hands, the pistol going off in the struggle.

A moment later he was a prisoner. while the
charger, freed from his burden and snorting
with terror. ave a series of flying kicks at the
cr0wd of Ind ans, broke loose from all restraint,
snapping the cord which bound him to the un-
known spy, and galloped away toward Derry-
field neighing as he Went.

“Hells furiesl give him an arrow i” cried the
spy savagely. ‘ Stop the brute, or he’ll alarm
the town! oolsl have ye no hows?”

The answer was given in a shower of arrows
after the flying steed, which only seemed to in-
crease its speed, for it soon vanished in the
gathering darkness, leaving its master a cap-
tive. .

The reflections of Adrian Schuyler were by
no means pleasant at finding himself in the pOWer
of his quondam prisoner. Too late he recog-
nized the trap into which he had fallen, and
that he had made a bitter and remorsoless
enemy.

The s y, for such he evidently was, seemed to
be the . eader of the Indians; he issued his or-
ders as remptorily as a chief, and was im-
plicitly o eyed.

He did not deign to take any notice of the
hussar himself, but in a few moments the latter
found himself stripped of all his weapons, while
the handcuffs were transferred from the wrists
of the recluse to his own and he was hurried
off into the darkening woods.

The white leader remained on the s t where
the fracas had occurred, gazing angri y toward
Der field, scowling and mutterin to himself.

“ urse the popinjay hussar! w y did I let
him stop me, when a bullet would have kept his
brute from giving the alarm? It is too late
now. Another goodly scheme thwarted by one
of those cursed accidents that none can fore-eel
We must retire. One comfort, I have him. and
I’ll take satisfaction out of his pretty face,
when I see the flames distorting it. Ay, ay,
there you go, in the toll-gate. thought the
brute would rouse ye,”

As he spoke, several roving lights appeared in
the distance on the way to Derryfleld, and the
sound of distant shouts, mingled with the hoof~
beats of the flying char er. The new moon
shed a faint light over t e landsca , and the
spy turned away into the woods on t e track of
t e Indians, who had already vanished.

Adrian Schuyler manacled and guarded,
stumbled on through the darkness not nowlng
whither he was going. He judged that his es—
cort was numerous, from the constant rustle of
leaves, and the sound of low signals that echoed
through the woods. 1

He did not know that those si als were the
recall of a numerous band of In iaas, who, but
for his accidental presence and the escape of his
horse would, ere t is have been closing around
Derryfleld, for a midnight massacre, as well
planned as it was atrocious.

Like the tiger, the Indian attacks on] by 80r-
prise. and, that foiled, is apt to slin away.
Adrian Schuyler knew that a body of troops
was already gathered at De fle d, militia,
perhaps, but none the less the vic rs of Lexing-
ton and Breed’s Hill. In a midnight surprise
these men would have fallen an easv prey to
the waiting Indians, but their leader knew me
well that the flying horse with its bloody sad-
dle would tell a tale to the commander at Don-

 

 

 

Blackfill'ick, the Demon Rider. I 5',

ryfield that the latter was not likely to pass un-
heeded.

For several hours the weary march through
the woods was continued, the lndians in sullen
silence urging on their weary captiva, till the
latter was ready to drop. He had been riding
rapidly for at least ten hours, and was tired
when he dismounted, and his high-heeled boots
were not the style of foot-gear to wind 9. way
anion rocks and roots.

At ast, when the moon had been down for
several hours, and the poor hussar was nearly
exhausted, the whistle of a whippowil, echoing
through the arches of the woods, brought the
party guarding Schuyler to a bait, and the
sound of horse-hoofs announced that some one
up reached.

resently up rode the quondam farmer and
Mountain Hermit, now reVealed in his true
character as a partisan leader, and followed by
several men in green uniforms, wearing the
brass and bearskin helmets of a well-known
Tory corps, called after their leader the “ J ohn—
son Greens” or.“ Rangers.”

The s y was dressed as before in homespun
clothes, at he rode a stout horse, and wore a
sword, while he seemed to be in authority over
white and red alike.

He issued a few brief orders. after which he

dismounted from his horse, and the rangers and
the Indians proceeded to encamp.
‘ It was not long before a fierce fire was glow-
ing under the arches 'of the woods, the heat be-
ing very grateful to the frame of the captive
hussar, for the night was chilly, and he was
wet and shivering, from wading so many
brooks.

He had sunk down at the foot of a tree. quite
tired out, when a ranger stirred him up with
the butt-end of his rifle, and ordered him in a
surly tone, to “ get up, the captain wanted to
see him.” .

schuyler obeyed the ungracious order with
patience for he knew the hands he had fallen
into, and did not wish to provoke further indig-
nities. He followed the soldier to where his
late enemy lay under a tree, with his feet to the
fire. gloomin meditating. '

The partisan looked up, and a grim smile
lighted his face.

" So, my young hussar. the tables are turned,
it seems. It takes an old warrior to keep Tony
Butler in irons. Now, hand out your dispatches,
nugget: prefer to be searched. Which shall
it '

The young ofilcer smiled disdainfully.

“M dispatches are in my brain,”he said.
“ All carr in writing is this.”

And he rewa paper from his bosom and
handed it to the captain of rangers.

CHAPTER Vi.
' A DEMONIACAL vrsrr.

Cmam BUTLER, for such was the name b
which the partisan seemed to be known, too
mrch‘mcnt extended by the prisoner, and

ined it closely. ‘

“ 95!. this is only a commission,” he
growl . “.What do I care for that? 1 want
your disfigtches. Captain Schuyler, since that
seems to your name.”

'“ I hays none. on my word as an officer,” said

:hu ler calmly. " '

“ an What were you ’doin on the road to
Derryfield?" asked Butler, hen in‘g his shaggy
brows on the other. ' f

“ 0n duty," was the laconic reply,

“ What kind of dutvf” ‘

“ That is my own affair and my general’s.”

“ Who is your general?”

“ General Philip Schuyler.” -

“ So,” said the ranger-leader, musingjy. u Are
you a relation of his!” _ ,

“ His second cousin.”

“ On his stafi'l”

“ A: an aide—yes.” »

“What uniform is that you wear? I know
none such lunch the mbcl mgnmumm.” .

“ It is the uni orm of the Zieten regiment of
bussars, in the Prussian service.”

Butler looked at the other with more respect.
At that time. the name of Frederic of Prussia
was as famous as that of Napoleon. twenty.
five years later. and the Tories, while despising

 

the “ rebels.” held a great reverence for the few.

foreign oficers who had found their way into
the American service.

"‘ Have You, indeed. served in the Zieten Eus-
sa ?” he asked.

“ Seven years," said young Schuyler, proud- I
l ..

y:‘Ycru must have been a boy" when you on-
tered.” . .
I“I was—a cadet.” ,

l

y'.
I.:

 

I

“And what brought you back here to link
your fortunes with these rebels, sir?”

" My country. She was in danger, and I
owed or my life.”

“ What orders did you carry to Derryfield’l”

l’l‘he hussar smiled slightly, and remained
si ent.

Butler looked at him with a gloomy but hesi-
tating manner. He did not seem so much in-
censed against the hussar since he had discov-
emd the famous corps to which he belon ed.

“ Look here, captain,” he said, an clenly,
altering his manner to one of complete cor-
diality “there can be no use in hiding the
truth i’rom me. I have no ill-feeling against
you for treating me so roughly. It was war-
time, and a hussar should always be on the
alert. But why should an officer of our experi-
ence take a side which must be the osing oneJn
this struggle, when a commission in the king’s
service awaits you, if you wish? Already General
Burgoyne has your cousin enveloped in the toils,
at Albany, and another Week will see the reh-
els cut in half, from the lakes to-New York. I
know why you went to Der field. It was to
try and rouse the Vermont mi itia. But it is of
no use, I assure you. Who is in command there,
by the by l“ ,

Schuyler again smiled, but made no an-
swer.

The partisan leader frowned in a vexed man—
ner at that.

“Captain Schuyler,” he said, in a low, grat-
ing voice, " remember there at e Indians round

“ For the last time, Captain Butler, 1 will not
tell you.”

Butler changed his manner to its old repul-
sive sullenness. ,

“ Very well. . Your blood on your own
head!"

He spoke a few words-in the Mohawk tongue.
and Schuyler was seized and bound hand and
foot in an. incredibly short space of time, then
cast down at the foot of a tree, and left between
two guards, to slee if he could.

The last words 0 the partisan had led him to
anticipate immediate torture. at least, but such
did not seem tube the intention of his captors.
He was left to himself, in a. position far from
uncomfortable as regarded warmth. with a tree
ovarhead and a fire near him, while his bonds,
though secure, were by no means painful.

Meanwhile. the few simple preparations of ‘
the Indians for cam log out had been complet-
ed, and the whole nd lay stretched around
the fire, with their feet in close proximity.

The leader had wrapped himself in a cloak
and lain down a little a rt, and every thin , was
quiet, as Adri .n Schuy er softly raised his and
to look for his chances of escape. He counted
his enemies. and found that there were on]
thirteen Indians and six soldiers present, inclu -
ing Butler. Where the other bands had gone
he could not tell. but none were there.

Youn Schu ler had not served under the
best lig t-caVa r? generals of Europe without
acqutirin much ertilitv of resource and bold-
ness of c aracter. To left alone was. With.
him. to plan some means of escape; and as he
lay there, he considered that in the morning his
chances would probably be desperate. .

He lay quite still for some time, till he heard
the deep breathing of slee rson all sides. Then
he rolled owr to one 1: de, nearer one of his

ards, the knife at whose belt excited his

0 .
ii}: instant he moved. a deep voice accosted

him from behind a neighboring trco,.laying in

English: ' ,

“Roll back!”

The hussar obeyed. and his heart sun]: as he
did so. He was evidentl y watched by a hidden
sent .

Argioment later the man moved out from the
tree against which he had been leasing, a stal-
wart ranger of the “ Johnson Greens.” .

Without another word, he grounded his rifle-f
butt, and stood leaning on the muzzle, looking
at Schuyler with grave attention,

From that nwment, the young cfilccr saw
it} was useless to move till that gaza was 03

to.

Real ning himself tolhisfate, he pretended to

0 to file? . and insensibly the warmth and al-
ence in] ed him 'into a doze, from which be
woke with a sudden start, after a lapse of time
that he could not compute exactly. - ~ _ , ‘
When he looked round, the fire was burning
low, and all was in gloom. The sentry had left

- his post. .but Schuyler could distinguish the dark
‘ outline of his form leaning against a tree.

. Silently as he could, the hussar rolled over

. 1f
a ,fi, ,.£. 7

l
7"

once more toward his nearest guard, and.
this time there was no warning from the sen-
try. With his head bowed on his bands, which
Were cla d on the muzzle of his rifle, the late
ter was s coping and snoring audibly.

The prisoner raised his manacled hands to
withdraw the knife from the sleepln lndian’l
belt, and was already in the act 0 touching
him, when a sudden interr tion ocourrcd to
the quiet-an interruption o the most awful
character. .

A bright glare of red light shot over the
scene from above, and the astonished hussar bo-
held, in the midst of the branches of the tree
over his head. a blazing ball of crimson fire.

On a lower branch, stood a gigantic black
figure, which Schuyler recognized, with an in—
describable sensation of awe and superstition
which he could not conquer as the may; cm~
bodiment of the traditional idea of the‘ nine
of Evil himself.

The gaunt, gigantic figure, with short, up-
right horns on its head, black from head to
foot, with steely gleams; the deathly white
face, with great, urning eyes and pointed
mustache, curved upward in a malicious grin
of triumph—all were the usual and traditional
aspects of the fiend in art. ' . .

For one moment the horrible'! demon stood
erect on a branch, holding another above his
head, while he brandished a bundle of darts in
his left hand.

Not a soul in camp was awake but Schuyler,
who fancied himself for a moment the victim
of nightmare, so inexplicable was the vision to
his senses. ‘

Then there echoed a triumphant laugh from
the tree, and a deep, hoarse voice roared out:

“HA! in! HA! an! I GATHEB rm nil I
GATHER THEM IN!"

Even at the second word, every man in camp
started up, and stood gazing spellbound at the
fearful figure.

Then, with a final yell of fiendish laughtfrn:

the demon leaped down on the head of an

disc, and cast a shower of his darts in all direc-
tions. Every one went with fearful force and
unerring aim straight to the heart of a victim.

and four men fell writhing to the earth in II I

many second .

s . t . 7.
Then, with alcw wail of incxprctsiblc terror} . - ' .,

white and red without venturinga blowor
air defense, dew in wild dismay in all diner
one. ‘
As for Scbuvler, he was too much astounded
to move. Hisho
been so inclined. , He lay muter
the extraordinary apparition u.
the fire dealin dent
own death to ollow.

tstoodovnr

‘tors fied, there was aloud explosicni the top
of the tree, and the rod glare v be

to l.- '
placed by a profound darkness, in the midst of

which the wild la h at the m sounded
fearfully distinct, w ilc the ra mob of but
through the leavcstoldof the fifghtnf "it!
one else. ..- ,
Adrian Schuyler lay ,
not. naturally superstit out. ,hn‘tzrthox strum
levents he had witnessed were to ran-c
the feats of the bravest. Ho coma when
he had fallen, listening . ‘thcmccoding fact,
after which all was silent. < a '
How long he lay there he could nuttell. TI.
stillness of death hung over tho-forest for h .
but he to to move. lest he should at -
the notice the stra - creature. Where it
had gone to. he did not now. but hounded. it
must be near, from having heard nothing of its

diaparture. . «i , ,.
bus the hussar lay on his back by the glimm
ing embers. till the doubtful l ht of downsid-
21’ if. “h? wld“dn“'“i°d m... i s
svew,w a e o co na-

cxtinguisbed fire. . w . . ,.   w,‘

The demon had vanished. .  -.

CHAPTER VlL ‘ '- f
A amen  '
ADRIAN Scnurmn sat up, with unmodifi—
culty, owing to. his bonds, and looked around
him. There lay the-dead bodies, five in number,
and every one was that of an Indian. Btran
to say, not a white man had fallen. Each

 

was lying flat on its back. with a ghostly gas; _

right over the heart, that stretched across the
whole length of the rib, leaving a gaping and
pit in the side.

The avalins with which death had been in

.flicted ad vanished, and the footprints of somw
creature with a alarm foot were plainly visiblo’

by the side of the corpses. . -
The light of day, instead of dispelling, tho

 



nds also prevented him. had it ,
ng up,“

around. it, expecting it
Suddenly, almost in the instant-that heap- '

\ - ..'u .
Walla 

he. emptchn-lt .1 ,

«4:.

 

  

_ 6

 

Black Nick, the Demon Rider.

 

mystery, only served to render it deeper. The
hussar could not tell where he was, for the
thick woods. but he noticed that the ground
rose to the right of the camp, with a steepness
that told he was at the foot of a mountain.

Now, unwatched by human eye, he rolled
himself near the body of an Indian, and using
the latter’s knife with his own fettered hands,
soon cut the cords that bound his feet together.
His own handcufl's remained, but they were
not an incumbrance to his further escape.
Moreover, it was not hard to find weapons.
They lay by the bodies, or scattered in terror
over the ground, and a heap of abandoned
horse equipments, at the foot of a tree, showed
where the demoralized rangers had fled on
barebacked horses. Lying among these equip-
ments he found his own weapons as they had
been thrown there, and it was with great joy
that he resumed them, one by one.

Putting on a. sword-belt when a person is
handcufied is by no means an easy operation,
but Adrian managed it somehow, and then took
his departure for the mountain, presenting the
strange spectacle of a fully armed hussar roam-
ing the woods, handcuffed like a prisoner.

The irons were decidedly inconvenient, but
he had no means to unlock them. The key in
his saber tasche had been taken by his ca tors
of the evenin to extricate their chief, an the
latter had fl , carrying it with him.

In a short time the yougg emcer had reached
the ascent which he jurig to be the side of a
mountain, and beheld his expectations verified.
A lofty mountain indeed was before him, and a
break in the woods, higher up, promised him a
pros ect of the surroundin s.

A ter some minutes 0 hard climbing he
reached a flat rock that jutted out many feet
from the mountain-side, and around which the
trees had gradually thinned away, leaving a
view of the usual sea of mountains and valleys.

Something in the scene seemed familiar to the
hussar, who yet could not exactly ascertain
where he was. Casting his eyesto the ri ht
over a sea of foliage, he caught sight of a t in
wreath of blue smoke curling in the air, and at
the same time, beheld a peculiar shaped clifl',
with a stream falling over its side, which be
instantly recognized, ejamilating:

“ By heavens, it is the Haunted Hill!”

It was indeed, but the other side from that
which he had been the day before.

“The In stery is solved,” mused the hussar.
“No won or the Indians flsd. It must have
been the Mountain Demon that saved me last
night. But, surely, it cannot be possible that
(bmon’s reall in it. There was none here

esterday, an the savages must have grown

ld from its absence. Who can it be, then?’

As he thus muSed, the clear, silvery notes of a
horn echoed from the rocks overhead on the
mountain-side, and soon after came the flying
feet of some creature rapidly a preaching.

Instinctively, Adrian Schuv or draw one of
his pistols and cocked it, reauy to defend him-
self againstany attack.

The next moment one of the large bloodhounds
he had seen the day before dashed over the rock
at some distance, without noticing him. and
then came the graceful figure of the girl Diana
who bounded past him within ten feet, and
suddenl stopped, dumb with amazement, star-
ing at t e handsome stranger.

Adrian was the first to break the silence.

“Fairest Diana,”hs said, in his most win-
ning tones, “well met once more on the moun-
tain.” *"

“ Haw came you here, rash man?” asked the
girl, hastily, and taming pale. as she spoke.

‘Do you not know that this is fatal ground?
Are you tired of your life? If he finds you here
be will kill you."

Schuyler smiled.

“ As to whv I came here, it is easily answered.
I was brou ht here a prisoner b a party of
Indians an Tories, who camped w th me in the
woods at the foot of the hill. Last night a
strange :(pparition entered our camp. killed or
frighten away all the Indians, and released
me. Iflalig "trying now to find my way back to

9

Diana listened to his words with apparent
wonder.

“iArstrange apparition! What! is be here

n

“ I know not to whom you refer, lady, but a
creature in the likeness of a man, but with
eleven feet and horns, created such a panic
among my captors as I never saw paralleled.”

“ And still you dare stay here,” said the girl,
In a tone of wonder. “Oh, sir. if you value
your life, let me entreat you to fly. The road
to Derryfluld is straight and easy.”

“And yet you stay here,” said the hussar,
meaningly. “ Why should I fear what you do
not?” ‘

“Oh, sir, that is different. I am—I cannot
tell on what. But I entreat you to fly.”

“ adam,” said Schuyler, gravely, “ I should
be glad to do so, for m duty cal a me away.
But I have no horse, an the woods are full of
enemies. If I go on foot the chances are that I
neVer et there.”

“W at then? You cannot stay here— on
say you saw him—what is to be done? on
must go back whence you came.”

“ I cannot do it,” said Schuyler. “ The scouts
of Burgoyne’s army are between me and home.
I must get to Derryfleld, if I have to steal a
horse.”

Diana wrung her hands in a ony.

“ Man, man, I tell you he wi 1 kill you if you
stay here. You must go away.”

"I have a choice of deaths, then,” said the
hussar. coolly. “ I am safe from the Indians,
on this mountain, and as for the demon. if he
kills me, he will serve his enemies. On my
mission to Derryfleld depends the whole future
of a campaign.’

As he spoke, the sound of another horn, deep,
hoarse and bellowing, echoed from the top of
lthe hill, and the girl turned deadly pale, ejacu-
atin :

“ It is too late! He is here! You are lost!”

In spite of his general courage and coolness,
an involuntary thrrll of terror gathered over
the heart of Adrian Schuyler, as he listened to
the mysterious sounds of the phantom horn. It
echoed from hill to hill in deep reverberations,
and when it died away, left him with an in-
describable sense of awe.

At the same moment, as if the mysterious
demon had waited to sound his horn till the
aspects of nature were in harmony with dia-
bolical influences, a sudden shadow swept over
the sun, and Adrian, looking up, beheld a deep
thunder-cloud, hitherto hidden behind the
mountains. swallow up the sun, and rush across
the sky with wonderful swiftness, while a pow-
erful gust of wind shook and bowed the trees
on the mountain-side in a groaning chorus.

He turne‘i to Diana, and behold, she was
gone! He just caught a glimpse of her white
deerskin tunic vanishing in the upper woods on
the mountain-side, whence the sound of the
horn had come, and he realized that it had been
a summons.

“Man or demon—girl or, spirit,” muttered
Schuyler, as he entered the woods in pursuit,
“ I’ll follow on, and find the mystery of this

mountain, if t costs me my life. I’ll know the
secret, at least."
He ran through the forest in swift ursuit of

the vanishing girl, but quickly realised that
she was far sw1ftet than be, for he soon.lost
sight of her entirely, and came to a standstill.

Not for ion , however. .

The storm t at was already brewm became
more threatening every moment, t e clouds
thicker and thicker, and a few dmps began to

atter on the leaves overhead. Remembering

he direction of the mountain clearing, the has-
sar directed his course thereto, and pushed
steadily through the woods toward it.

He had not far to go to reach it, and ten
minutes brought him there, but the storm had
already set in, with rattle and crash of thunder
and intense gloom, only broken by the v1v1d
flashes of the lightning.

As he looked into the clearing, a gray sheet
of rain came drivin down over everything.
shutting out mountain and valley from sight,
and threatening todrench him to the skin.

Sehu ler was a bold. decided young fellow,
as we ave seen, and he hesitated not to run
across the clearing, and dash headlong into the
but, where he found the door as open as on his
former visit, and everything silent.

Looking round, as soon as he had shaken him—
self clear of water he found himself In 8 Cir-
cular room of rough stones, without plastering
of any sort, with a conical roof, supported by
a central of hemlock with the bark on.
At one si e of the apartment was a hose fire-
place, in which blazed a big fire of logs. but the
cabin was perfectly bare of furniture. save for
the two square blocks of stone, roughly trimmed,
one on each side of the fireplace.

The hussar took his seat on one of these, and
dried himself at the fire, not without some
trepidation, it must be owned. He was in the
suppoaed stronghold of the very demon that he
had seen with his own eyes the night before,
and he k ew not at what moment he might be-
hold tha terrible form darken the. doorway,

 

and be engaged in a contest for life with the
1 terrible enigma.

 

m.— .

But as time wore on. and nothing appeared,
while the rain descended in torrents overhead.
and the fire hissed and sputtered as it struggled
against the tempesr. the hussar‘s spirits in—
sensibly rose, mm with them his curiosity. He
began to long to see the lairy form of Diana,
and even caught himself wishing .hat the demon
himself might appear.

But still the solemn rain poured down amid
peals of thunder without cessation. and noth—
ing came. The fire hissed and sputtered, and
finally roared up the wide chimney in triumph,
the soldier dried his steaming garments, and at
last the storm slowly abated and passed off,
settling into a gentle, drizzlin rain, with a
cold, gray sky that looked as if it had set in for
a glhoomy day.

en Adrian Schuyler began to cogilate
within himself what was best to do. He knew
that if he could not get to Derryfleld his labor
was in vain, and he was equally aware that
without a horse he could neVer expect to get
there aliVe. Puzzling Over his future course he
was startled by the footsteps of a horse outside,
and clutching his carbine with his manacled
hands he started up and turned to the door.
The chain that cennected his irons just gave
him sufficient play for his hands to fire a gun,
and he eXpected an enemy.

What was his surprise at the group that met
his view!

A horse without a rider, but saddled and
bridled, was being led to the door of the but by
a hu e black bear. the very creature that he
had beheld gamboling with the girl the do be.-
fore The bear walked sedately forward, iold-
ing the bridle in his mouth, and the horsrA fol-
lowed as if he was perfectly content with his
clumsy conductor.

Full of amaZement Schuyler stepped out of
the but and looked around. Not a human crea-
ture was to be seen, either in the clearing or at
the edge of the woods, but even as he stood
there an arrow rose in the air from the forest in
a diagonal line, described a curve in the air, and
fell at his feet.

A little white note was attached to the arrow.

Iiistinctively Schuyler picked it up, just as the
tame hear stopped in front of him and stood
rubbing his head against him in a friendly and
Confiding manner. The hussar opened the note
and read as follows:

" Ride the horse in sight of Derryfleld. Then stri
off his bridle and turn im loose. I have ventur
much for your sake. Keep our secret for mine.

"Duns."

“ Ay, by Heavens, I will, sweet Diana,” cried
the hussar, in loud tones intended to catch the
ear of a person concealed in the woods. “A
thousand blessings on your head. You have
saved our country one disaster.”

Wit out a moment’s delay he took the bridle
of the horse, cast it over the animal's head, and
mounted.

The horse was a nohly-formed creature, but
Schuyler could not help noticing its strange ap-

arsnce and trappings. The animal was coal-

lack, without a white hair, and its housin
were of the same somber color, with a sha -
rscque of black Velvet, worked with a skull
and cross-bones on the corners. The same
hastly emblem was repeated on the frontlet
of the bridle in white, and the curb was shaped
like a human flnger~bone.

The hussar was too much rejoiced, however,
to find any fault with his equivocal mount. It
was evrdently a fine horse, and a moment later
genres galloping through the woods to Dcrry-

e . ,

 

CHAPTER VIII.
nuaeorsa’s nap.

THE night trooded over the white tents and
glimmeiing fires of a great army, which lay on
the open ground rear Saratoga. Street after
street of tents and marquees. In martial array,
stretched in long lines, now silent and dark, per-
pendicular to the color line. Outsideihe cmrp.
glimmered embers of the fen { s that “ele-
left burning, and some distance off. on the
plain, and rmid the little patches of Wood,
were the brighter fires that told of the outl) ing
pickets.

Occasionally the distant challenge of a sentry
would be heard, to be followed by the same
routine of “ ho goes there!" “ Rnumls."
“ Halt. Rounds. advance one with the counter-
sign. Countersign correct. Pass. Rounds’ and.
a all’s well!" The last words drawn out into a.
long, musical call. caught up and repeated,
along the line of out sis.

Inside the camp t ere were no lights. save in
one spot, around the head-quarters tents, which

 

 

Black Nick, the Demon Rider.

7

 

 

 

were clustered, in apparent confusion, in the
vicinity of a large, half-ruined house, in which
the commander kept his private quarters.

In these tents lights were burning. tires were
kindled in front, and a number of officers were
writing at different desks, while orderlies, at
short intervals, entered and emerged from the
quartermaster-general's tent.

In the lar e, old-fashioned parlor of the farm-
house, whic was still comfortably furnished,
and lighted with two wax-candles in silver
candlesticks, a stout officer, in the Scarlet uni-
form of a lieutenant-general, was walking up
and down, with his hands behind his back. occa-
sionally stopping to speak to a second officer in
the dark-green uniform of the Hessians, who
stood in the attitude of attention, to listen and
answer the questions of his commander.

General Sir John Burgoyne was a handsome
and intellectual man, a little past the prime of
life, and by no means the tyrannical blockhead
he has been re )resented. On the contrary, his
literary abilities were quite considerable, his
power of mind great; and, up to this time, his
campaign had been conducted on sound mili-
tary principles, his army having carried all be-
fore it.

The expression on his face that night, how-
ever, was one of decided anxiety. as he cen-
versed with the otiicer before mentioned.

“How ion has this been going on, baron?”
he asked, at gength.

“ For a whole week, general, as near as I can
find,” was the reply, In ver pure English, for
Baron Reldesel prided himse f on his accent.

“ And you say that the Indians are beginning
to leave us?”

" General they have already left us, in large
numbers. If something be not done to stop the
panic, to-morrow they will leave in a body."

1SirdJohn Burgoyne looked anxious and per—
p exo .

“Would to Heaven the GOVernment would
not employ them at all,” he said. “ They do us
more harm with their atrocities, than their ser-
vices balance. That unfortunate affair of Jenny
McCrea has raised ublic feeling against us to a
fearful extent, an now, when they mi ht be
most useful, they are frightened to deat i, and
deserting, becausa of some masquerading rebel,
who plays tricks on them with raw-liead-and-
bloody-bones apparitions. Have the soldiers
heard of the panic, baron?”

“I regret to say, general, that our own out~
posts are catchireg the infection, since the Indian
chief. Cree ing olf, was killed in sight of our
pickets. he man or demon, whichever it he,
seemed to laugh at their ballots and disappear-
ed. so they say. in a blaze of red flame.”

“ Bah!” said Burgoyne contemptuously, “‘tis
some conjuring trick. It can not be possible
that our men are so foolish asto fear it. I must
see that the rounds keep them awake. The fol-
lows grow lazy, and dream. I shall visit the
pickets mvself to-night.”

Baron Reidesel brightened.

“ The very thin . general.
their spirits, they w ll recover.
can gain the Indians back.”

“There is Only one way, that I see, baron.
We must catch this fellow who disturbs us, and
hang him. Doubtless it is some rebel spy. One
goo thing: St. Leger sends me word that
Fort Schuyler must soon surrender, and that
will encourage the waverers. Then, Baum‘s
dragoons must be at Bennington by this time.
Let them brin us provisions, and I’ll make
short work of huyler’s militia. Go and ask
General Fraser. and Philips, and the rest, to
come with us, baron. I’ll be ready in five min-
utes, and will make a grand round of all the out-

7’

If we keep up
I only hope we

ts.

«vel- ood, general,” was the reply, as the
baron zillited and left the ,aparttncnt, while
Burgo no, mechanically Pu“an 0n his sword,
stood y the fire, mood l‘y; coslmiipg-

He was roused from is reverie by a slight
noise: in the room, and looking, started in amaze—
men .

A man of wonderful hight, but gaunt asa
skeleton. stood within six feet of him, looking
at him out of great cavernous eyes. that glared
from the midst of a deadly pale face. The man
was muffled in a long black cloak. and his “('6
was shadowed bv a. broad slouched hat. He
stood regarding . urgoyne in silence.

“ Who the den! are you :” asked the general
angrily, as soon as he had recovered his firs
shoe .

“ Your fate,” answered the stranger, in a “01'
low voice.

it My “my” echoed Burgoyne, contemptuous-
ly. “Perhaps. the“. you are the masquerading
rebel who has frightened my Indiansi’

.Burgoyne felt the pressure of long, skinn

 

“ I am the demon of the forest,” answered
the same hollow tones.

Burgoyne laughed scornfully.

“ Indeed? Then you are just the man I want
to see. Here, sentry!”

He strode to the door and threw it open, ex-
pecting to see the sentry usually stationed
there.

There, across the threshold, lay the dead body
of the soldier, in a pool of blood!

Horror-stricken, Sir John recoiled a moment.
Then, whipping out his sword, he stalked up to
the stranger, saying stern!

“ You have done this,
shall not escape."

The unknown remained impassive, with his
arms folded, and only smiled sardonicaiiy.

“I told you I was your fate," he said. “Be
warned in time. Go back while you may. A
week hence will be too lat x"

“Fool,” said the English general. contemptu-
OUsly, “ you may frighten superstitious sa" ‘32s
with your hocus-p ~cus, not me. Surrender, or
you are a dead man.”

For all answer the stranger advanced on the
general with folded arms, while tire and smoke
he ran to issue from his mouth!

ncensed at the exhibition, Burgoyne made a
violent thrust at the other with his sword.

The weapon snapped on the stranger‘s body as
if it had been made of glass, and the next instztiint

n-
gers on his throat, which he in vain tr ed to
throw off, while the stranger, with gigantic
strength, pressed him backward and backward,
till he lay bent over his knee, slowly choking
to death.

What would have been the result of this scene
is not doubtful, but, just at that moment, the
sound of footsteps was heard in the passage,
with the clank of spurs and swords.

The terrible stranger cast down the nearly
senseless body of the general with a crash to
the ground, and stood up.

A moment later, several general officers came
up the go, and paused with horror at the
si ht w ich met them.

be murdered sentry lay across the threshold;
Burgoyne, a parently dead, lay on the floor by
the table, w 110 over him t0wered a gigantic
figure, extending black, shadowy wings, his
pale face and burning eyes glaring from be-
tWeen upright black horns, while fire and smoke
came from his mouth!

A moment later there was an unearthly
lau h. The demon flapped his wings over the
tab e, and out went the lights in intense dark-
ness! Through the gloom came the hoarse
shout:

“HAl Kai HA! HA! ll
I GATHER THEM IN!"

Then came a thundering re rt
closing of a door and all was sti 1.
tion had vanished.

CHAPTER IX.
THE man or ran OUTPOSTS.

THE scene of confusion in the room was, for
some minutes, uite animated. Burgoyne’s
subordinates ms in, with drawn swords,
calling for lights, and feeling around in the
darkness with their weapons. Then came the
tramp of feet and clash of arms in the passage,
asa number of the head-quarters dragoons came
running in, some carrying torches, and all with
drawn pistols.

The room was thoroughly explored, and the
mystery deepened, for not a trace of the in-
truder was ound. There lay the murdered
soldier, and there was the commander. in the
arms of Baron Reidesel, slowly recovering
from the rough handling he had undergone,
but nothing remained of the demoniac visitor.
save the overturned candlesticks. General
Fraser—the fiuartcrmaster - general—General
Philips, Sir rancis Clark, and meat of Bar-
goyne’s stafl', searched the room, trying to dis-
cover some means of exit, but found none.
Every panel was sounded. but none seemed hol-
low, and the general himself put an end to the
search by saying:

“Let it pass, gentlemen. Some ingenious
Scoundrel has been here, but he is doubtless
away by this time. We will visit the pickets.
It shall never be said that his majest ’s cfliccrs
were frightened by a juggler. Or er up the
horses.”

“ But you are not fit to ride out, general," ob-
jected Philips.

“I am alwhys fit to do my duty, sir.” HHSWGP-
ed Burgoyne coldly. “Come, gentlemen, we
have wasted too much time already.”

The courage of the commander was evidently
far from being shaken by his appalling Visita-

Kut, by Heaven, you

I GATE!!! mu m!

as of the
The appari-

 

tion. He had not said a word of its nature yet,
and his staff were still puzzled, but Sir John’s
decided manner overbore all opposition, and
they silent] followed him to the horses, which
were alreath in waiting. Then, as calm] as if
nothing had occurred, the general procee ed on
his trip to the outposts.

Burgoyne‘s manner was absent and thought-
ful as he rode along, mechanicall taking the
direction of the outposts. Two ragoons rode
in advance of the party to answer the chal~
lenges. and they soon arriVed at the picket rc-
serve, toward the American army.

The officer in command was called up and
taken aside by the general, who questioned lvim

closel ‘.

“ IIIIS any disturbance occurred in your front
to-night. sir?”

“ Not yet, general, but—”

“ But what, siri Speak out.”

“ We are led to expect one, eneral. Last
night, it seems that one of the ndian scouts.
was murdered in sight of our advanced oats.
My predecessor warned me. A man on a lack
horse gulloped by, and flames of fire seemed to-
come from his mouth. they say. The moon was:
up. and this Indian tired at the horseman, and;
then turned and ran in. The horseman followed
him, changing into the likeness of—I only tell it.
as I was told, general—of the devil himself.
Within fifty feet of this reserve he overtook the-
Indian and pierced him with a javelin. Then
came a red flash of fire and the apparition threw
the dead Indian over his saddle and fled like the
wind, laughing in tremendous tones.”

“ Did the sentries fire at himi"

“ Yes, sir. They sent a re ular volley after
him, but he only laughed ion or and disappear-
ed into the woods.” -

Sir John Burgoyne remained, silently musing
over this story, but he made no comment. He
was, in fact, quite puzzled.

Just as he was about to speak, an exclamation
from one of the soldiers caused him to look
round.

Then he struck his hand on his thigh with a
muttered curse.

“ By heavens! there he comes again. Now let
us see if he fools me a second time.”

It was indeed true. The same weird figure
that has already been described, was gallOping
up on a black horse, flames and smoke rooted—
ing from his mouth, while a stream 0 sparks
came from the muzzle of his horse. He was
coming from the extreme right of e picket
line, gallopingiecklessly past the vede tea, while
shouts, cries, and shots, folloWed his course as
he came.

Burgo ne turned to Sir Francis Clark, his fa—

vorite a de-de-camg.
“Sir Francis ” e said, in the sharp quick
es-

tones of a superior giving orders, “ talre

cort with you, and follow that fellow till you
catch or kill him. He is a rebel spy, and doubt-
less wants to draw some of us into an ambush.
If he leads you to the rebel lines, come back and
report. I shall know how to deal with him. If
not, follow him till your horses drop, and shoot
down his animal, if on can. Away sir.”

The aide-de-camp owed low and drew aside.
The demoniac stranger was still coming fear-
lessly on in a direct on that would bring him
near to their front, and Clark, athering the
twenty dragoons that composed t e escort, rode
out to intercept him. '

On came the demon in silence, the red sparks
streaming from horse and rider, as if about to
charge the whole party

Then, as he came w thin sixty feet, he uttered
a loud, tannin-g pea! of laughter, and wheeled
on' tnu ard the ine of vedettes.

“Gallop. march l” shouted the standecamp‘
filing his pistol, and dashing after. A volley of
Carbine-bullets whistled round the wild rider,
but, away he went, fast leaving his ursuers, the
same loud, taunting laugh coming ack on the
wind.

Away on his track went the whole y of
dragoons, headed by Sir Francis Clar , and in
a few minutes the line of vedettes was reached.
The alarm had already become eneral, and at
least a donen shots were fired at t eflying horse-
man, while a single vedette rode at him with
drawn saber.

Sir Francis, better mounted than the rest,
was close behind, as the demon met the dra-
goon. He heard a clash of weapons, and the
Wild rider darted out unharmed, while the
soldier threw up his arms and fell back of! his
saddle, dead!

There was no time to lose, h0weVer. Shout-

ing to his men to follow, the English officer
within thirty feet of the
Then, with

galloped on, keeping1
other, till they reac ed the woods,

*—

 

 
 

 

 

 

8

a shrill laugh, the demon rider darted under
the arches of the forest, and Clark followed.

The moon was not yet up, and the darkness
in the woods was intense, but still the fore-
most horseman galloped on as it horse and
rider well knew be way. 'Sir Francis followed,
almost 9.10%: for the dragoons were already
strung out hind, owing to the severity of the
pace.

Presently a crimson cglow flashed up ahead,
and the officer perceive a long, flaring flame,
that streamed from the head of the demoniac
figure in front, revealing the short, black horns
and the long cloak streaming out behind, ex-
actly like huge wings in appearance.

Amazad, but still resolute, the aidede-camp
followed on, still riding at the same rapid pace
through the arches of the wood.

The hoof-beats of the. following dragoons
grew fainter and fainter, and still the two

orsemen gallo ed on in a direction due west,
awa. from hot armies. How long they rorle,
Clar could not tell, but hour af:er hour passed
without any change in their relative [)Onltl ms.
The aide-de-camp rode a splendid horse, one of
the tow thoroughbreds then in America, and
horses of that blood, as is well, known, will
gallop till they drop.

At the pace at which they were going, four

"hours of this work took them many a mile
from settlements of any kind. till they entered
a broken limestone region. Then, of a sudden,
the red flame went out on the demon’s head,
and, with a loud, mocking lau 11, horse and
rider plunged into a narrow, b ack gully, al.
most hidden in bushes.

A moment later, Clark pulled tip, thoroughly

bewildered in thick darkness. be light that
bad guided him had disappeared, and he was
alone in the woods. ,
' Too wary to venture himself in an unknown
region, the emcer sat in his saddle, musing on
the best course to pursue. Then, with a mut-
tered “ Tnat’s it,” he turned his horse‘s head on
the way homeward. - ‘

The animal, with the well-known instinct of
- his species, took up his march without hesita-

~ tion, as Clark had foreseen. The officer drew
his sword, and’gave a slash at every tree he
passed, leaving} white streak in the b ark.

“ You may ide, master juggler,” he said to
himself: “but if I don‘t track you to your
haunt by (is light, it will be because there is no
virtue in; b ate.”

CHAPTER X.
HOLLY snax’s HUSBAND.

‘ Tn little mountain town of Derryfleld, (now
_Manchaster) was full of the sounds of the
drum and life, while companies of tall, raw-

- boned countrymen, some with uniforms, more
.withotit,but all bearing arms and belts, were
marching to and fro , in the, ,streets, and on the
green, t9 the liver notes 0 “ Yankee Doodle.”
. ' lathe best parlor ot the “ Patriot Arms.” the

rlncipal tavern of the village, a remarkably
ll and msgailooking oflicer, in the uniform
of a Continen general..waa standing before

“the tire, with one foot on the huge a diron.
lookingshrewdly at our Mend, Adrian léehuy-
 “"placed before airs, stillshackled. ,

er a

a
and huge h‘uéiis altld feet, but; théaheflesfh seemed
_ a , n orgctte n n oriuation
“ of'thpowerful frame: fished a tall, nar-
row forehead and" a Very stern, shrewd-looking,
lacs (1 aficotch cast of feature, with high cheek-
‘boncLaId. Ver _. ah‘arp black eyes. Hie nose and
chin were hot long. the, latter very firm withal.
_ in manner was remarkably sharp and abrupt.
he nervous energy ofthe man seemed to be
ever overflowing in impatience and fiery ardor.
‘, Such was Bligadier-General—afterward Maior-
_:Geno , , . hn Stark, the first leader 0: mil tia
dan the ReVolutionary War.

I . "Wenv‘ {the laid. as Schuyler concluded
his relat “I’m very sorry t t the rascals
’ stole your commission, but your face is sum-
. clout. ' I believe your story. What does Schuy-

~ lei-want meta do?” . ,
I. ‘f'l‘o' join him at Bemis’ Eights, general.”
said the bazaar, with equal business-like prom pt-

nese. . .
"Well. sir. I’ll see him has d first!” said
Starinwith a snap of his teeth. ‘8 ' ‘
_Adrian hardly knew what to say/to the ec-
.. centric‘prigadier as he stood there nodding his
I head as it"to confirm his words. _ ,
"G,L:neral,” he , an, “if an unfortunate
ccident deprives me of credit—i you.don’t’ be-
/ eve ‘I up properly anthorized—” -
V “ l‘told' on I did, young man.” said Stark,
» with all h old abruptness. “You’re enough

 

I

_ Black Nick, the DemonflRider.

 

 

very broad shoulder ' ‘

 

like Phil Schuyler to let me see you’re his
cousin.”

“Then, reneral what am I to understand?”

“ That I‘ll see them all hanged first.”

And the iron brigadier compressed his teeth
like a vise. ‘

Adrian Schuyler began to wax indignant.
Without evon waiting for a, smith to file oi! his
irons, he had ridden to Derryiield turning loose
the black horse as he had been hidden.

S:ekin General Stark in the town in his
equivoca guiSe, he had been arrested by the
Eatrol and brought in as a prisoner, when be

ad told the whole story without reserve.

The presence of his gray charger—which had
been captured the night before around the gen-
cral’s quarters—confirmed the truth of part of
his statement, while Stark’s clear penetration
told him that the handsome, Open face of Schuy-
ler was not that of a traitor. ‘Being so fully
believed, the general’s brusqne answer to his
message vexed and surprised him beyond meas-
ure.

"General Stark," he began indignantly. “ do
you call that a ro r answor to the lawful or-
ders of a man ll e General Schuyler? Are you
aware—” .

Stark interrupted him in his grufr, abrupt
manner:

" Keep cool, young man. I know Phil better
than you. He‘s a good man—a sight too good
to be hustled from illar to post by those asses
of Congressmen. hey slm’n’t hustle me.
hold my commission from New Hampshire, and
intend to stay here.”

“And do you mean to say, General Stark,”
asked the hussar fiercely, “ that 1 am to go back
and report to General Schuyler that you refuse
to come to his aid when the enemy are pressing
him hard, and you have three thousand men
under our orders?"

Star turned his head to the yo ng man.

“ You can tell him and any on else,” he said
emphatically, “that John Stark’s a man, not a

st. The can send me all the orders they

ike, an ’11 see them hanged before I obey
them.”

Adrian Schuyler was now covrgpletely indie;-
nant, but he remained calm. ith quiet dig-
nitv he said:

“ General Stark, I have only one request to
mike of on in that case.”

“Ump —umphl What is it?" granted Stark

grainy. l

" low your men to restore me my horse.
which I see at (your quarters, and let me ride
back to. my chie ” . _

" Umph —umphl Very good, very good.
Have yonr irons 06 first, eh?

“ No, sir!” cried Adrian fiercely; “ nota favor
from you but my own char r. I would sooner
die than accept ought else rum a man who do-
serted his country n the hour of trial.”

“Umph—umghlv Gritty lad—gritty lad——
like your luck, by jingol Keep cool; better
have a th and a, dinner, eh? Look faint-
must have dinner!” ’

This was indeed true,'for, Adrian had not
touched food. for twenty-four hours. He was
too angry, however, to none 1; the offer, and
hauled away to the door, w Stark’s, sharp,
metallic voice asked:

“ Well, youngster,.what are you going to tell

.Phil, it you get. there alive?”
" Tha

you refuse to fight,” said Adrian,

“ 0.1, no, no—not a bit of it,” said Stark, in
his quick manner; “not by a big sight, young-
ster. You stay with me. and I show you as
much fighting as any man wants, in two days."
’ Adrian paused, irresnlute. There was some-
thing in the voice at Stark that sounded as. if
bewas, mocking him.

“What do you mean, general?” he asked sul-
lenly. “ If you are playing with me. allow me
to say that it is in bad taste to an officer in my
position, who has incurred danger to reach

_ angrily. -

on.”
y The eccentric eneral changed his manner
immediately. 9 came up to Schuyler and

forced him,.With rough kindness, into a chair
by the table.

“You sit there,” he said grufliy. “ I want to
talk turkey to you.” '

Then be run: a bell, and as the orderly en-
tered, he 'ufily ordered up the “ nearest smith
and a go dinner.” The orderly did not seem
to be amazed at the singular order. He was an
old dragoon, who had once been a. ranger of
Stark’s company in the French and Indian war.
He saluted, and wheeled swiftly about, depart.
ing without a word. ’ _

2“ Now, see here, captain,” began the eccentric
general, as the (icor closvd, “ don‘t misunder-

A‘s

stand me. I‘m going to keep you here, because
i know you can t get back to your general now.
Burgoyne has a body of his internal dragoons
on the road here, and to-night I march to meet
them. I’ll not put myself under the orders of
Congress—that's flat. They’ve cheated Arnold
and me out of our fairly-won commissions, and
my State has granted what they refuse. I’m
going to whip these British and Hessian dra-
goons out of their boots, on my own book, and
if Congress don’t like it, they can lamp it.
That’s flat, too. When I’ve whipped the enemy,
you can carry the news to Phil, if you please,
and I shall be glad of your help.. What do you
say now?”

Adrian had been silent during this singular
address, which was spoken in short jerks, the
general stumpin round the room all the time.

W'hen he had finished, the hussar answrred:

“I say you're a. strange man, general; but I’ll
stay with you, if you like. At all events, 1 can
help you, till the roads clear.”

Stark laughed in his abrupt manner, and
do led the other on the shoulder, saying:

“ llou‘re the right rir, lad, and if I don’t
show you a few Englis flags, the day after to-
morrow, it’s because Molly Stark will be a
widow.”

Tlie'door opened, and in clamped a big coun—
try blacksmith, with his baskrt of tools, while
his blue coat, brass scales. and tall but plume
showed that he had just come in from “ train-
mg.

“Hang it, Zeke, we don’t want to shoe a
horse here,” said Stark, grinning. “ This en-
tleman has been unfortunate enough to fallinto
British hands, a: d they’ve ornamented him
with bracelets. File them off, so he can dine
with me.”

“ That’s me, gineral,” said the smith, aiYably.
“El! I don’t hevthem irons Ct! in five min-
utes, you kin take my hat.” \

He was as g as his word, filing away at
the irons with great vigor, and when the tavern
waiter entered with a large tray, some five
minutes later, Adrian Schuyler was rubbin his
released wrists with a sense of gratitude. w ile
the smith, who had been cheerfully whistling
Dyer his task, and replying aflably to his gen-
eral‘s dry jokes, had Just picked up his basket
to leave.

Adrian Schu ler, who was mod to the formal
disci line of t great Frederick’s army, was

of the general of militia, who behaVed can
easy-going old father among his uncl uth sol-
diers. He had yet to learn that in that singular
man, John Snark, were concentrated the only
qualities that enable a man to drive up raw
militia to. the cannon’s mouth, with the steadi-
ness of veterans.

' CHAPTER x1. V
'rnn noum‘am cow's wsamo.

Tan rain poured steadily down in torrents,
and the heavens were all one unvarving mass of
leaden clouds. The outlineaot the (in-en Moun-
tains were wre in driving fleeces of grey
mist, and the c lly northeast wind drove the
rain aslant. splashing up the pools that collected
in every below. -

Adrian Sch yler. at the head of a small party
of horsemen, was slowly, riding along on his re-
covered charger, through the fields near the
little town of Bennington. He was wrapped in
his lung cloak, and the rain dripped from. his
tall bussar-cep in a continued ut. His fol-
lowers were awkward. countrifle Green Moun-
tain Boys, but their peculiar leathern ccdume
told that they wore all hunters, and not agri-
culmrists, by profession. Hunters they were.
and first-class shots, keen at detecting trails, and
model scouts. ' '

They rode on behind their leader. in single file,
watching every little patch of Wood that might
hi e an enrm . Two men
at easy rifle ot distance. twat-lug up the brush-
wood, and leaving nothing unsearched.

Their numbers and actions sufficiently told
that they composed a recannmtering party, un-
der command of the ex-hussar. It was a notice-
able fact in the history of the Revolutionary
war, that thou owners wh had served in
Euro an armieo were treatad with great d18-
tinction whenever they could be induced to ac-
cept commands, and that their career in Ameri-
can armies was generally very creditable, with
the exception of those coming from the English
service. The latter, as in the cases of Lee and
Gates. were almost uniform v unfortunate,
while those provincials, such as ashington, Put.
nam. Stark. and Schuyler who had learned
war in the French and Indian struggle, under

 

won erfully amused at the free and easy ways,

rode on each flank »

 

0‘

 

English tuition, Were as uniformly good leaders.
All which facts tend to rove that the English
system of war is inferior to that pursued, in
Germany especially, on the European continent;
as also that American intellect is able to attain .
a good result, even in a bad school.

Adrian Schuyler wasa model light cavalry I
oilicer, and conducted his party with due cau-
tion. A rifleshot ahead was the best scout of
the party, and every now and then. silent sig-
nals were exchanged Letween the advance and
the main body, that communicated some intelli~
genre. Presently the scout in front halted, and
crouched on his horse‘s neck. Instantly, at a
low word from Adrian, his party stopped, and
the officer rode slowly up to the side of his ad-
vanced vedette, to see what was the matter.

“ Thar they be, Cap,” said the scout, in a low
tone, pointing to his left front, " they‘re gone
into camp, as slick as molasses, and their Dutch
sentry ain’t got no eyes, I guess. for he’s a-
blinkin‘ this way, jest like an owl on a fine day,
and hain’t seen me.”

Schuyler, sheltering himself behind the other,
and bowing his head, so as to hide his tail cap,
$11PPEd off his horse and leveled a telescope over
the croup of the scout’s steady animal. A blu-
ish line of smoke, clearly visible against the
cold gray background of mist and rain, pointed
out the position of the camp of Baum and his
Hessians, detached from the army of Burgoyne,
to seize the stores at Bennington.

They in in a square, compact mass, in a bend
of the little rivulet, called the VVollonsae, which
covered their position. Agreen grove, at the
border of the stream, furnished them with
some shelter from the rain, for otherwise they
were compelled to trust to huts of straw.

A brown line of fresh earth, covering the
whole front of their position, showed that their
commander was a cautious man, who knew the
value of intrenchments.

" There they are, sure enough. Kerr.” said
Schuyler, as he shut up his glass; " but I don’t
see any Indians.”

 

j‘ l’d admire to see the reptyles,” said Kerr,
spitefully, “ sneaking round when our boys are
here, Cap. No, no, thur ain’t one of ’em left
pearfius, since the Mountain Devil’s up and arter
em.

“ The Mountain Devil! Who’s that?" asked
Adrian, surprised. It was the first time he had
heard allusrons from others to the singular be-
ing that had effected his own release from his
late captors.

“ Wal, Cap, that’s hard to say.” res ended
the scout... " Some say he’s a real devi , some
he’s only a feiier thats got a spite against the
Injins. All I know is, that he’s been round
lately, and skeered every one on ’em out of the
country. Folks say he's b’en dodgiu’ round
Burgoyne’s men, playin’ the same games, and
that thur leavin‘ for hum.”

“ Has he been seen near our quarters?” asked
the hussar.

"N"! time. Cap. He may be a devil, but if
so. he’s a mighty friendly one fur our side. He
don’t only kill Iojins and Tories, and leaves our
folks alone. We hain’t so much as seen him,
though prisoners tells mighty tough stories
about him, how he‘s got horns and hufli. and
sends fire out of his mouth, and sioh like.”

schuyler did not tell the scent of his own ex—
perience. He was too much puzzled at the na-
ture of the apparition.

He remained watching the camp of the Eng«
lish dragoons in silence, feeling certain that his

resence was unseen by the army, then turning,
he led his horse away out of sight.

He was about to lead his party round to re—
connoiter from another quarter. When one of
the flanking scouts was soon to go out. at a gal-
lOp, to the right. Into the “Gods, as if in chase
of something. A moment later, a black horse,
which the hussar recozlllzi‘d 85 the One he had
turned loose to go back to the Haunted Moun-
tain, dashed out; of the woods, bearing a lady
on his back, and came galloping up, pursued by
the scout.

SCUUYier waved his hand to the latter to halt,
for he recognized the figure of the lady. Then,
up galloped the unknown fair one who called
herself Diana. and checked her horse with fear-
less grace in from; of the party. .

Diana was more beautiful if possible, In the
habiliments of civilization. than she had been
in her woodland guise. She was dressed in a
black riding—habit of velvet, laced across the
breast in strange imitation of a skeleton, in 51]-
ver. and wore a little black hussar cap, with a
skull and crOSs-henes in white on the front, the
very costume afterward used by the “Black
Brunswickers ” of Waterloo renown. She was
dripping with rain.

 

Black Nick, the Demon 9

 

 

Without the slightest hesitation she addressed
Schuyler earnestly.

“ Sir." she said, “you are in danger, and you
know it not. A arty of savages, led by the
Tory spy, Colonel utler, are already between
you and your own forces, to cut you off. Re-
tire, while there is time. 1 am sent to warn
you. They are now in yonder wood.”

As she spoke, she pointed to a piece of woods
in their rear, and wheeled her horse as if to
flee. Adrian Schuyler impulsively caught at
the bridle.

“ Tell me, at least,” he entrcated, “ that you
will not run into danger on our account. We
are soldiers, vou a woman.”

“ No time for talking,” she answered, sharply.
“ Look yonder.”

He looked, and the edge of the wood was full
of Indians.

 

CHAPTER XII.
THE PARTISAN.

AT the sight of the lndians, the American
Rangers instinctively clustered together, and
the flankcrs came galloping in.

That the enemy Were in force was evident
from the boldness with which they showed
themselves, coming running out, and spreading
into a long skirmish line, that threatened to cut
oil? the rangers from any return to their own
army.

It was evident that they Were in a trap froru
which there was no escape, except by cutting
their way out, twenty white men against nearly
a hundred Indians. The hunters that followed
Adrian, bold as they were by nature, began to
evince symptoms of shrinking from the test.
Brave militia, as far as service in war went,
they were as yet only the raw stuff that vete-
rans are made of. Many cheeks Were pale, and
there was much nervous fumbling at weapons
but they kept silence, and anxious] watched
the countenance of their young lea er for ad-
vice and succor.

Adrian Schuyler had not served, as volunteer
and officer, in the famous corps of the Zeiten
Hussars, without profiting by the counsels of
the best leaders of light cavalry in Europe He
scanned the advancing line of the enemy with
great coolness, riding out in front of his men,
and using his telescope.

His example was inspiring to his men, and in-
sensiny the most nervous forgot. his tremors
when he saw the coolness of his captain.

The lndians were as yet out of gunshot, they
were advancing on foot, and some five or six
horsemen were visible in their line. Adrian
watched them close. and saw that if he could
break through the line he could laugh at par.
suit, all his men being mounted and most of the
enemy on foot. He turned his glass to the
Hessian camp. and saw no symptoms of dis-
turbance there. The stolid dragoon sentries
paced to and fro on the parapet of the breast-
work, and did not seem to notice the impending
conflict outside.

Then he turned to speak to his men, and met
the blue eyes of Diana. She was watchin him
apprehensivoly, as if she sympathized wit his
danger, and longed to avert it, while pOWerleas.
Schuvler pointed to the distant woods, saying:

“For God’s sake, young lady, ride away out
of danger. The bullets wrll soon be flying, and
they will not respect even your beauty."

“Why not come with m ?” she asked. “I
can lead you away by a path where there are
no Indians."

“Thanks for your offer” said the hussar,

ratei’ully. “It is one that would accrpt were
it not that I have promised General Stark to be
back by acertain hour at his head-quarters. My
way lies through the enemy.”

"And do you really mean to charge thoso
fierce creatures?” she asked in a tone of
wonder.

“I really do," he said, quietly. “There’s not
half as much danger as you would think. Rapid
motion will take us safe through.”

“Then I go with you,” said the girl, firmly.

Adrian laughed.

“ Nonsense, Diana. Your presence here shows-

that you’re on our side, but you can do no good
with us. Depart while you may. They are al-
most within gunshot.”

“I am going with you,” said Diana, firmly.
:If’it is a mere matter of fast riding, I can ride
00

“ But you may escape by going the other
way.” objected Schuyler.

" Which I shall not do,” she said. “ I‘ve taken
a fancy tosee what you soldiers call a battle,
and you cannot stop me, so you may as well at-
tend to your men.”

The hussar shrugged his shoulders and turned

 

 

 

away to his men just as several white puffs of
smoke came from the enemy‘s skirmishch, fol-
lowed by the thump, thump, of two or three
bullets tearing u the earth around them. The
horses began to dget, and the faces of the men
were somewhat uneasy. Adrian saw that they
must be encouraged at one, or possibly desert
in confusion.

He drew his sword and threw back the drip-
ping cloak i'rom his arm, while he spoke to the
rangers.

“Men,” he said, “it‘s time we were doin
something. Never flinch from a few bullets a
long range. These fellows are tiring to no pun-
pOse. Fall in, and deploy as skirmishers.”

The rangers promptly obeyed the order.
Adrian knew that in times of danger men
should be occupied, and he insisted on his line
being formed in perfect order, even when the
bullets began to whistle unpleasantly near.
The longer the men were exposed to a harmless
fire the greater grew their confidence, and con-
tempt for the enemy. As soon as the line was
iorrned the hussnr gave the signal to fall back,
which, as be anticipated, provoked a loud yell,
and rattling volley from the enemy, who look
the run in their eagerness. The rangers retired
at a slow trot, the bur-ear keeping in the rear
and watching his foe keenly, till he saw that
the rapid motion was producing the desired
effect.

The excited enemy w'ere firing wild.

“Halt!” he suddenly shouted. “Face about,
ladsl We’Ve gone far t nongh. Now follow me,
and charge!”

A moment later, with the fair Diana at his
side, the ex-husaar was bearingbdown on the
Indians at full 5 eed, followed y his rangers.
Schu ler’s men all curried broad-swords, in the
use e which they Were B( mewhat clumsy, it is
true, but stron arms made up the deficiency.

The sudden c ange of demeanor on the part
of the horsemen rOdUCcd a result highly favor-
able to them. '1‘ c Indians, who always have a
dread of dragoons, fired a harmltss, scattering
volley, and were then left with empty pieces
while the patriots charged home.

“Now we have them," crud Adrian, exult-
ingly. “Ride over them, lads, and then on to
our own camp. It a man gets wounded, I'm
mistaken.” -

The example of their leader stimulated the
men to greater courage, and they uttered a
hearty cheer as they drew on. The rain but
in their faces, and the wind whisllod past as
they went, but the enemy were just in much in
the rain, and the Amtrkmns knew-that Ite tire
would damp the powder 0]. their foes.

It took but a minute to decide the question.
At the full gallop the wole party of the rangers
neared the em my, and far in front rode Adrian
Schuyler, closely followed by Diana.

The few horsemen who were with the Indians
seemed to be (filcers, for they were seen dash-
ing up and down the line ercouraging the
wavoring savages to stand. Adrian noticed
one tall, powerful figure among them, which he
recognized as the Tory, Butler and be lent his
course toward that part of the line, knowing
that if he could overthrow the bold leader, the
followers would probabl be demcraliz- o.

A moment later, he or ed against the pan
tisan, who met him, wiel ing a long broad-
sword.

Adrian was a splendid Iwordsman, and
equally good horseman, and his etc?! was per.
fectly trained. no sli ht advantage n a single
combat. mounted. is until onist, however
proved to be 1 ually mulche . In hight and
weight he was er superior to Adrian, and his
blows came like tht so of nudge-hammers, while
his big gorse obeyed the rein easily.

But he Lussar didn‘t wait long to fight.
There Were too many enemies near him. in
men had already dashed through the line. and
were past him on their way to Stark'e forces,
when his antagonist suddenly, without an
visible cause. turned pale, drop; ed his swo -
hand, and wrenched his horse back several
paces, while he glared ovar his enemy’s shoul-
der, as if at some frightful vision.

Involuntarily Schuyler glanced back himsoli',
and beheld the beautiful face of the mysterious
Diana close by, deadly pale with excitement,
while her long hair s‘reamcd our the cheeks,
wet and clinging with the rain, like that of a
drowned person.

He turned once more to his foe, and beteld
the hitherto fierce face drawn down with
abject fear. as the dreaded partisan ground
out the single word “Diana!” and then turned
to flee.

Adrian’s horse bounded after him, and the
hussar discharged a blow that cut open tho

 

 
   

10

 

 

other‘s shoulder, which, to his amazement, But—
ler never eVe-n tried to arry.

The spitefull hiss o a. bullet past his ear,
cutting away a curl in its passage, told him
that he was not wise to tarry longer. Turning
away, he found himself and Diana almost alone
amid the enemy, who were rallying from their
discomflture, and hastening to cut them off.
The hussar uttered a shout of defiance, seized
the bridle of his fair companion, and gallopecl
away_after his rangers.

CHAPTER XIII.
BENNING’I‘ON.

TH]: stars were shining bright and clear in
-the heavens, where the gray light of early dawn
was beginning to pale a few on the eastern
horizon, and the remains of the rain-clouds were
driving toward the sea under the chilly north-
west wind that ended the rain-storm.

A numerous force of men lay clustered in
bivouac round the smoking camp-fires, and at
one fire, separated from the rest, General
Stark was walking to and fro, talking to Adrian
Schuyler.

“And you say the girl galloped away from

on, and would not even give you her name?”
a said, inquiringl’y.

 

“ True, enera .
i “’Why idn't you chase her and bring her
nf’

“ For two reasons, general. First, she had just
rendered us an important service. Secondl ,
her horse was too quick for any except mine. ’

“ Um hl sorrry for it. Never mind, she's a
friend 0 ours anyway, and We’ll pay her for
it, Schuy er, if she comes around. But you
have brought me good news. I’ll havs those
fellows before the sunset to-night, and Bur-
goyne may whistle for his rations.”

At that moment the clear note of a bugle, a
lit is distance ofl', rose sweetly over the silent
landscape, blowmg the reveille, and Stark
paused and consulted his watch, with a. low
chuckle, saying:‘

“ I tell you what, Cap, our bo s may not be
as smart-looking as your Pruss ans, but you’ll
find them pretty prompt for all that. I don’t
believe your great Frederick could put his men
under arms any quicker than Jack Stark uts
his Green-Mountain boys into the ranks. ok
therel”

iAdrian looked round, and smiled in approba-
t on.

At the close of the long-call the whole bivouac
had changed its appearance as if by magic, and
where there ha en rows of slumbering fig-
ures, now stood long ranks of armed men, rapi -
ly assuming the order of perfectly straight lines.

The voices of the sergeants calling the rolls
rose on the morning air before all the bugles
had ceased blowing, and the camp assumed an
appearance of order and bustle not often seen
outside of regular troops.

Schuyler expressed his surprise at the disci-
Bline exhibited after so shorta training, and

tark abruptly broke him ofl.

“ No wonder, lad—no wonder.
not German louts, icked up anywhere, with
beads like oxen. bees are free men, come
dowu from the times of Cromwell, with hardly
a change. It needs oul that they should see the
necessity of order, an they’ll come to it fast
enough. Hal what’s thati"

His last words were elicited by the sound of a
shot coming from the picket-line, closely fol-
lowed hntwo more.

In a moment Adrian Schuyler was on his
feet, and standing close to his horse, which W83
tied to a tree near by.

The little canal of rangers under his orders—
the only cava ry in Stark’s cimmand—was al-
ready ranged near by, answering roll call: and
the caoptain sprung on his horse, with the inten-
tion calling them out, when the voice of
Stark prevented him.

“ Let him go, Cap. "'I‘is but a single man,
comin this way.”

Adrian followed the general’s pointing finger,
and distinguished the outline of a galloping
horseman, rapidly approaching the fire in the
gray dawn.

Presently up dashed a man on a black horse,
and halted suddenly in front of the fire. Of
his figure all that could be seen was a shadow
in a loose cloak, and a shadowy hat was
slouched ovar a face of marble paleness.

The strange horseman addressed himself to
General Stark, as directly as if he knew him
well. saying, in a deep, hollow voice:

“John Stark, if you wish to save your coun-
try, march on the enemy at once. Reinforce-
ments are coming up, and will be here by sun-
set. Exterminate what are here, before the

These are

 

 

Black Nick, the Demon Rider.

 

others come up, and God speed you. Fare-
welll‘

Then, before even the quick-witted general
could guess his intention, he was off, and gal-
loping through the‘cainp at full speed.

Stark shook his head as he looked after him.

" Yonder goes a strange man,” he said to
Adrian, “and if I did not know him, I should
say a spy.”

“ What, do you really know him?” asked
Adrian eagerly. “I, too. recognized his faco,
but only as that of an apparition that—”

“ What a arition?” queried the general
sharply. “ hat do you mean by talking of
such stuff, sir?”

“Only this, general,” said the hussar stoutly,
“that the face I just now saw under that sha-
dowy hat is none other than that of the creature

our men call the Mountain Demon. I saw
it only once, but I shall not forget it in a
hurry.”

Stark uttered his customary grunt, but made
no further observation on the occurrence, and
very soon the duties of the camp took them
both away.

By the time the sun was up, the whole force
was sc-ittered round the fires, busily engaged in
cooking breakfast, and a short time after col-
umns of march were formed, and the little army
of patriots took 11 their march to the gay tune
of the drum and fe.

The British bull-dog and the German boar-
hound stood stubbornly at bay behind the
brown trenches in the ittle curve of the Wol-
lonsac. At the summit of a hillock stood a bat-
tery of four brass pieces, behind which, rank
upon rank of riderless horses stood patiently at
their posts, awaiting the result of the battle.
The whole of Baum’s force was made up of
dragoons, who fought desperately on foot, to
defend their led horses.

All around the camp the grim circle of
gatriots was pressing closer and closer on the

ritish, in a ring of white smoke, through
which the red flashes of rifles shot incessantly.
The rattle of musketry was, and had been for
three mortal hours, “ one long clap of thunder,”
as Stark himself afterward wrote.

And still the battle hung in suspense. The
general’s horse was shot under him, and be
rushed about on foot, his drawn sword gleam-
ing in his hand, encouraging his troops to stand
up against the fearful fire. The Americans
had no artillery, and LO bayonets on their rifles,
but they rushed on to the charge with just as
much vigor as veterans, and still the battle
wavered.

It was just at this doubtful moment, when
the least influence, one way or the other was
important, that a. loud, ring ng cheer was heard
over the roar of the mus etry-flring and
through the white smoke rushed several horse—
men at full speed, riding up the hillocks on
whose summit the English battery was planted.

First on a charger as black as jet, rode a tall,
thin officer in the broad- lumed hat and black
curling wig of many a ong year before. His
black velvet coat and bright steel breast-plate
were those one sees in the portraits of Louis the
Fourteenth of France, and he saved a long
ra ier in his hand, of the same antique fashion.

van in the momentar glimpse can ht of
him amid the battle smo a, men marve ed at
the paleness of his face, and at the weird fire in
his cavernous black eyes.

Following him closely was Adrian Schuyler,
with his score of mounted rangers, but all
seemed to be under the sway and control of
the ale man on the black horse. A moment
later. the black charger was among the guns,
and the long blade flashed in the air, as the
pale rider smote right and left with fearful
strength.

Then like a wave, the handful of horse dashed
on the dismounted dragoons and cut their way
through. It was but a trifling aid, but all-
sufficient.

The sight encouraged one arty and discour-
aged the other proportionate y.

With a roar and a volley, the Americans fol-

 

- lowed, and the German dragoons broke and

fled.

Past the swaying, helpless herd of led horses
they were driven, too much barn to be al-
lowed time to mount. Pell-mell a ter them fol-
lowed the Green Mountain Boys, and Benning—
tea was won.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
ma PANIC.
BEHIND the ramparts of Fort Schuyler, near
the present site of the town of Rome, an officer
in the uniform of a Continental Colonel, was

 

 

standing in the twilight, looking out over the
belea uering camp of St. Le er, with his Tories
and nuians, at the siege atteries. The in-
creasing loom alone made the situation ten—
able, foral day long the Indian riflemen had
been lying down outside the fort, behind
stumps and logs, inking off every one who
ventured to show his head above the rampart.

The position of the fort had been growing
more desperate daily, for its defenses were but
slight at the best of times, and St. Leger’s
artillery had been battering at them steadily
evor since the siege first began, three weeks
before. Provisions Were growing scarce, and
the Indian scouts, constant] creeping closer
to the fort, rendered a sorts for forage im-
possible.

Colonel Gansevoort, the American leader,
looked anxious and gloomy. Before his men
and the enemy he kept up appearanccs nobly,
but now that he was alone, the desolate nature
of his position rushed on his mind with over—
powering force, and compelled a feeling of
almost despair.

Two weeks before the column sent to his
relief under General Herkimer, had been re-
pulsed and almos . annihilated, at the desperate
battle of Oriskany, and since that time not a
word had reached him from the outer world,
save through the threatening dispatches of his
oes.

All round the fort stretched the silent, prime-
val forest, for Fort Schuyler was then at the
extreme bounds of civilization. Out of those
woods came nothing but the whoo of the
belea uering savage, the spiteful crac of the
rifle-s 0t, and the booming report of the brass
howitzers.

There was not a re of hope apparent to tell
the Americans whet er the were not vainly
persisting in a struggle which could have but
one termination, torture and death at the stake
from the merciless allies of the English general.

As Gansevoort was thus looking from the low
log parapet at the twinkling circle of En lish
fires, be was surprised to hear a low voice grom
the ditch of the bastion on which he stood. call-
ing him by name. Starting, he hastily asked:

“ Who’s there?”

“A friend” replied the low voice, “with
news from Sc uyler. Come down to the sally-
port, for I must away when I have given my
news.

Without a moment’s hesitation the colonel
left the rampart, and hastened down to the
sally-port spoken of by the other. This was a
low, heavy door on the inner side of the ditch,
approached by an underground passage, and
protected by the fire of two faces of t e fort,
and the colonel emerged from this, flndiu him-
self confronted by a figure of great hi t, but
thin and attenuated asa specter. Th s i! re
was wrapped in a long, flowing cloak, an its
face was hidden by a broad, shadowy hat.

Under any circumstances, it is robable that
Gansevoort would have felt some istrust;pf the
other, but. as it was, he was too ea er to hear
the news to be particular about how t came.

“ The news, quick, man, what is it?" he whis-
pered. “ Good or bad?”

“Good,” answered the stranger, in the same
low tone, “ Read this letter.”

As he spoke, be extended both arms, the
shadowy cloak hanging from them, so as to con-
ceal what passed from the view of any lurking
besieger. Gansevoort then noticed, for the first.
time, that the other bore at his belt a small
darklantern. He eagerly gras the letter
which the stranger extended to him, and behel‘d
the well-known bold, clerkly hand of General
Schuyler. Quickly he ran it over.

“Snuwarnn, August 15th, 1777.

“DEAR Coan:—A body of troo left this place
yesterda , and others are following 0 raise. the ~ioge
of Fort hu ler. Everybody here believes you will
defend it to be last, and I strictly enjoin you to do
80. General Burgoyne is at Fort ward-our army
at Stillwater reat reinforcements coming from the
eastward, an we trust all will be We , and the

enemy repulsed. Yours faithfuléy,

“ COLONEL Gaxanvooa'r PH. cum“.

“ Com’d'g Post at F’ort Schuyler,
“ By Capt. Erastus Benedict, A. D. C."

Fora moment Gansevoort’s feelings overcame
him. The revulsion from anxiety to tape was
so great that be nearly choked, in his eflorts to
suppress emotion. T en he turned to the tall
stranger, seized his hand, and shook it earnestly.

“ God in heaven bless you, captain,” he said,
with trembling voice. “ You have saved a
soldier from disgrace, and America from
destruction. We “ere nearly spent. Defend it
to the last? Ay, Captain Benedict, I will do it
now with tenfold the vigor I did. God bless the

 

 

11

Black Nick, the Demon Ride

 

 

general for his confidence in me, and all the
brave fellows with him.”

The stranger’s hand, long, cold, and bony,
lay passively in the grasp of the colonel. till the
latter had finished. Then he said, quietly:

“You mistake. I am not Captain Benedict.
He is dead.”

“ Who are you, then?” asked the American,
starting.

“A friend to the cause. Let that suffice,”
said the stranger, in his deep, hollow Voice,
dropping his cloak so as to conceal his lantern.
“ I found Benedict in the hands of the Mohawks,
dead and scalped. I killed them, and brought
his letter. Now, farewell. Whatever you see
to-night do not wonder. It bodes no ill, save to
the enemy.”

He turned and vanished in the thick darkness
that had now fallen over fort and forest, and
Gansevoort slowly and thoughtfully left the
spot and re—entered the fort.

A few minutes later, he was reading aloud to
his officers the welcome letter of Schuyler, and
gladuess diffused itself in every heart.

 

The star that rose in the east at sunset was
high in the zenith over the besiegers’ camp. and
the Indians were slumbering around their camp-
fires,while the nodding picket-sentr hardly kept
awake on his post, when the loud b ast of a horn
echoed through the silent arches of the forest,
followed by a chorus of yells and cries that
roused every one in an instant.

Bewildered and half-awake, Tory and Indian
scrambled up to their feet, and the English gen-
eral rushed out of his tent, half-dressed, to know
the meaning of the outcry.

Two Indians, yelling as they ran, were com-
ing in from the outposts at headlong speed, and
their cries seemed to spread a panic among all
the neighboring savages for wherever they
were heard, Mohawk and Oneida, Seneca and
Tuscarora, alike joined the swelling mob that
came rushing through the camp.

“ The rebelsl the rebels are coming! Run!
Ruui” was the cr that was speedily taken up
by white and re alike, when they heard the
a arm more plainly.

Although not a foeman was to be seen, there
were sounds of a trampling in the woods, the
mapping of sticks and an occasional shout in the
distance, which gave color to the sum.

In vain St. Leger and Sir John nhnson rushed ’

to and fro, trying to arrest the causeless rout.
The tumult was too great for their v0ices to be
heard. The Indians, from the very first, com-
menced a retreat en masse, as if y preVious
concert; then one regiment of rangers gave way
and scattered through the woods, despite the
cries of their omcers, going to the rear at a run,
shouting, “ The rebels are coming 1”

In less than ten minutes from the first blast
of the born, the two English leaders were left
almost alone, and when the glare of torches in
the distance with the sight of armed men on
horseback showed them that an enemy was in—
deed approaching, they found that they had not
sufilcient following to resist a squadron of dra-
goons. Utterly amazed and demoralired, the
two Englishmen were fain to follow the_example
of their followers, and hastily mounting their
horses, galloped away to in the rout.

Meanwhile the tram lug came nearer and
nearer. and soon, out o the woods rode Adrian
Schuyler at the center of a long, scattered skir.
mish-line of American Rangers, in the white
frocks of Morgan’s Rifles, every man bearing a
torch of pitch-pine. .

The advanced waril , but boldly, only to
find t e enemy’s camp . eserted, the idle artil-
lery silent in the batteries, the ground strewed
with forsaken weapons and stores.

Adrian rode up to the bastion 0n whose sum-
mit stood the amazed garrison, and waved his
torch in salute, crying:

‘,‘ Gentlemen, you are saved. We are the ad-
vance of the relief-column under General Ar-
nold. Burgoyne has lost all his cavalry at Ben-
nington, and lies at Stillwater surrounded by
our men. Hurrah for independence!”

The cheer was given with a will.

CHAPTER XV.
'rriii: EXPEDITION.

Two months have passed away, and the scar-
let and gold of the fall is on all the vast forest
that borders the Mohawk river. .

In the English camp near Bemis Hights, Gen-
eral Burgoyne is holding a council of war With
his officers, and the tall, burly form of Colonel
Butler, in the dark green frock of the Johnson
Green is cons icuous among the scarlet of the
genera s. Butrer has his left arm in a sling

still, from the effect of Adrian Schuyler’s cut,

 

and his face is heavy and lowering as ever, as
he urges some measure on the council with
great enerri' y.

“I hard y think, colonel, that the end war-
rants the risk attending the expedition,” said
Burgoyne at last. “ This unfortunate affair at
Bennington has crippled us badly, and we must
not risk the little cavalr’y we have left on an un-
certainty. The enemy 5 parties are bold and
wary, and there is no assurance that the whole
party Will not be taken prisoners or killed.”

“ General Burgoyne,” said the partisan,
grimly, “l stake my head on the result. I
have not lived in this country for twenty years
without knowing every secret ath. I will take
your men by a way that no re 1 shall hear of,
and if I do not clear up this mystery of the
Mountain Demon I will consent to be shot.”

“ Your death would be a or satisfaction for
failure,” cried Sir John. “ What do you ex-
pect if you succeed l”

“ To save the army," said Butler, boldly. “A
month ago we were in good sition, our allies
swarming all round our anks, bringing us
news of the enemy. This juggler or demon
has done more to drive away the faithless
bounds of savages than anything else.

“ While he remains a mystery not an Indian
will stay in your camp. Let me once expose
and unmask him and they will flock to your
standards anew. General, I speak as I feel,
strongly. Twice has this fellow caused me to
fail in my plans by his diabolical appearance,
frightening away all my followers, and once
even myself. At last 1 hit upon a clew to his
identity, and Sir Francis Clark‘s story confirms
my suspicions. The place Where he disap-
peared is Well known to me, and if you will
givo me one squidron of dragoous I engage to
bring the inipostor hack, and with him our re-
assured lndian allies. I say that the gain is
well worth the risk.”

When the partisan had finished there was a
deep silence in the room. Even Burgoyne felt
the force of his words. It was true that his ln-
dian allies had deserted him wholesale, till he
was left alone in an enemy’s country, without
the means of obtaining intelligence, while his
situation daily grew more desperate.

Excepting or the short intervals at the bat-
tle of Bennington and the flight of St. Leger, the
ubiquitous visitor who ha haunted his out-
posts so long made its appearance nightly,
sometimes in one shape, sometimes another.
Though chased and fired at. horse and rider
were never harmed. Sometimes in the same
likeness in which it had loomed through the
battle-smoke of Bennington, sometimes in the
shape of the enemy of mankind, sometimes as a
living skeleton gleaming in fire through the
darkness, every night when the moon was ab-
sent the specter appeared.

The Indians were thoroughly cowed from the
first when a white female figure was seen on the
croup of the black horse, misty and ghost-like,
as it happened at the first visit. The wanton
murder of poor Jenny McCrea recurred to
their minds and they guiltin believed that her
ghOst was hauntin them.

When the last ndian had fled, there was a
short respite from this persecution of the out-
post-s, only to return in a new form.

Since the flight of St. Leger. Ihe English sol-
diery, harassed as they were by short commons
in the day were deprived of sleep during the
night by constant alarms. When the camp
was at its quietest, and all ware hoping for a
quiet night, sudden] would come the blast of a
born, to lowed by 9 outs and shots, and they
would see a squad of fiery fl urea on fiery
horses galloping through the pickets, cutting
down the surprised sold are.

Before a resistance could be organized the un-
earthly visitors would disappear, leaving their
marks in the shape of two rr three vedettes or
sentries shot down. The attacks were never
serious, never pushed far, but they occurred
every night, sometimes in one quarter, some-
times in another, always comin suddenly and
without a moment’s warning, ti lthe pickets be-
gan to become demoralized, and the men could
hardly be induced to stand guard at any dis-
tance from the camp.

It was under these circumstanCes that Colonel
Butler the partisan. ofl'ered his services at the
council of war to solve the mystery of the
demon and his crew.

General Burgoyne was the first to break the
silence that ensued on Butler’s speech.

“ Gentlemen, you have heard Colonel Butler.
You know the risk. We have but one s uadron
of cavalry left. Shall we venture it? neral
Fraser, are you in favor of a risk i”

“I am,” replied the ofiicer addressed.

1-1 I

 

’ 

“ And on, l’liilipsf"

“ Deci edly.”

“And you, baron!”

“Certainly. If we lose them, we are no
worse off, behind our works. If we stop the
enemy from annoying us, we have gained some-
thing."

“ nough, gentlemen. Sir Francis Clark
will accompany Colonel Butler and guide the
party t) t e place to which be tracked the
strange being~ when he followed him, a few
weeks ago. he council is dismissed.”

On the afternoon of the 5th October, a stron
part of dragoons left the English camp headt-
_y t 0 bold and wary partisan who has figured
in our pages under so many different names, in
reality the most trusty spy and best leader of
Indians in the pay of Burgoyne. Of his for-
mer histor even his commander knew noth-
ing,_save t at he had joined to volunteer his
servrces at the taking of Ticonderoga.

Some baleful spirit seemed now to animate
the partisan urging him on to feverish eager-
ncss, as he hurried the departure of the dra-

cons, and rode (if, accom )anied by Sir

rancis Clark. The. sound 0 the American
hands behind Gates’s intrenchments, could be
distinctly heard; for, since the battle of the
19th September, the English had moved for-
ward to within cannon-shot of the American
lines, where they had fortified themselves.

Butler shook his clinched hand at the enemy’s
guarters with a look of rage, muttering to

lnrk as he rode away:

“Let them blow and whistle, Clark. Once
giVe me back my Indians, and we’ll soon sweep
them out of the path.”

“If we can not do it without Indian help ’7'
said the aide-de-cam i, coldly, “I see but litf e
chance of success. he Indians are but unre-
liable cattle at the best.”

Clark was by no means an admirer of Butler
or his allies. n common with most of the cal-—
tivated En lish officers, he felt a strong repug-
nfince to t 0 employment of such barbarous
a ies.

Butler laughed sardonically.

“ AK, ay, that's the in they all talk when
ill-luc fa is on a man. am no leader of ripe-
clayed grenadiers, and you look down on me.
But by the light of Heaven, Sir Francis, once
let me get my warriors back, with my old corps.
of rangers, and 1’“ show you that Indiana can
fight”

The ofiicer made no answer, and the rode on
into the woods, till they struck the base that.
Sir Francis had made with his sword, which
the followed without much difficulty.

nce on‘the track, the partisan took the lead
at a rapid pace. His keen and racticed eye
read the signs of the forest with ar more case
than the aide-de-canzp, even thou h the latter
was following his own trail. a length of
time since the bias was made, and the faint
nature of the marks would have puzzled the-
(fficer not a litlle, but to the partisan the task
was but child’s play.

On they went at a ace of seven or eight:
miles an hour, throng: the rapidly darklmg
woods, till they found themselves, at sunset, in
a country broken by ravines, where the blue ub-
ruptiy ended beforea thicket of wild raspber-
rios. which hid the entrance'to a narrow gorge
in the side of a hill.

Here Butler dismounted, and examined the
vicinity carefully, when he announccd to the
aide-de-cairp that a party of lndians were in
the vicinit , and that he was goirg to seek them
out and ca 1 them to his assistance.

The marks of moccasins had not deceived
him. When he sounded a peculiar call on his
turkey-bane whistle, it was answered almost
immediately. and, soon after, a war-party of
Mohawks made its appearance.

 

CHAPTER XVI.
THE Dumon‘s HAUNT.

Tim Mohawks proved to beasmall rty who
had fled from Burgoyne, and when he were
informed of the errand on which the wt ie mm ,
had visited that lonely spot. one and all ex-
pressed unbounded terror. In coming into the
wilderness they had hoped to escape the pres-
ence of the demon whose a pearance they as-
sociated ith Vermont and tillwater.

When ey were told b Butler of the scene
which be h mself had wi eased on that very
spot-the one described in the commencement.
of our tale—and learned that the Mountain
Demon bad freqUently made his appearance in
those very woods, had in fact been tracked

‘ thither, the bravest warriors trembled, and he-

 

 

 
 

my...

I , ambl

’ describsble,

"1.2

 

 

Black Nick, the Demon Rider.

.._......_..__ ,. __ . . e- ...., .

 

an to look apprehensively around them, to

ee.

Butler checked them from flight with con-
summate craft.

" Whither would my brothers fly ?” he asked.
“If this be a demon, he will catch you in the
woods; and when was be known to spare a Mo-
hawk? With us lies your safety. I am the
Night Hawk, that sees in the thick shades, and
my spiritis more powerful than his. Remain
With us, and I will show you that all the demons
of wood and mountain cannot frighten the
Night Hawk. This is a cunning medicine-man
of the rebels, but I also am a cunning medicine-
man. and I will show you that I am stronger
than he.” -

This address reassured the warriors some-
what. They had a profound respect for the
partisan, and the mere fact of his coming there
expressly to solvs the mystery of the demon
argued that be bad no fear of him. When the
Night HaWk called on them to follow him, the
made no more objections and the party a -
vanced. '

The dragoons dismounted—part of them-—
and give up their horses to the third of their
com nions, who remained in thesaddle, under
311‘ ‘rancis,toguard the horses. The men on
foot. looking to their muskets, and fastening
their whom to the saddle, under Butler’s orders,
formed in rear of the lndians, both to support
them and toguard against their flight.

Then, with the partisan at their head, they
advanced to the hollow tree in which the de-
mon had once disap rod, which. as Butler
bad surmised, prove to be the entrance toa
cavern.

Looking into the hollow, a gulf of unknown
depth "appeared below them. and the partisan
besita a moment. Then he drew back and
called for a lantern. S Iveral had been brought,
and they were quickly lighted, when Butler,
boldly taking the initiativa, leaped down the
cavity and found himself on firm ground, not
six feet from the surface. '

'With acheery call. he held up the lantern to
his followers, and disclosed the entrance to a
rude flight of steps, out downward into the
earth, in a bed of solid rock. In a few moments
an Indian chief followed, trembling visibly.
but resolved not to give way before the white

men. . .,

Fastening the lantern to his belt. and holding
his rifle ready for use. the resolute partisan
slowly descended the ate , emerging at last
into coloft ball, cm with stalactites. on
which the l ght of the lantern flashed as it on a
wall of did

He heard the soft, moccasined footsteps of the
Indians, then the heavy clatter of spurs, as the
(inseam descended, and at last the whole
party entered the chamber, and stood gazing in
wonder around them.

All were much ‘ mount their ease now.
There were no signs of the demon as yet, and
of caves all had heard.

Butler now made a fresh disposition of his

' forces. 0f lanterns there were seven,of that

kind called bull’s-eyes. and he ordered the sol-
diers. bearing them to form a line bebinl him
and advance abreast, casting a broad fare
ahead. He. knewtbat the Indians with]. not
dare to have him in the thick darkness of that

cave.

advanced through the long chamber,
the only sounds audinle being their own foot-
stops, and the hurried breathing of the excited
mom. Presently anal-row ‘pamaze compelled

them to a low and in single filevover a'
broken, tamed ath,

ll they emerged into a,
secondchamber, rger than-the first, and the

light of the lantern: came back to them from

' the mirror-like surface of a black pool, into

which Butler had nearly fallen.
«As he recovered himself with an involuntary

exclamation. a loud. mocking peal of laughter .

sounded from the roof above, them. and the
sound ragged by the echoes. came with a
terrible: tto the ears of the explorers. As
if ‘to that their‘nerves to the utmost, there was
in the air. close by, and a swarm of
bats an ad
their wiggle and tangllng in the long hair of
re us.

The confusion in the narrow passage was in-
, The German dragoon cursed in
guttnrnl accepts, the ludians n their

startled " U hi” and all strugg‘ied together‘to,
9.

five. 1mm up against the rec -
amdgundcring vol of Bulter recalled them
to ' - ' - ’ *

muses:
“ Halt, fools!" shunted the enraged partisan.

" Do ye fear'tbe empty laugh of a single man,

and a few bats? Forward, and keep your rifles

', is
v- .

past them, brushing them with '

platform, and one of the fi
ate wings, swoops
him with unmistakably solid feet, sent him hen - '

 

readyl We are hunting this juggler to his hole
at last. He is here. Follow me, and we’ll soon
find out.” .

No sooner had he finished than the same de-
mouiac peal of laughter echoed through the
cave, seeming to come from overhead. The
bold partisan shouted defiantly back, and his
men, reassured, followed him onward‘into the
cave, skirting the black lake "as they went. It
was a large chamber in which they found them-
seIVes, but its border was very narrow round
the lake. After the second peal of laughter, all
was silence. '

Butler paused at a place where the white
rock shelved out into the water making a broad er
platform. He cast the light of his lantern all
round the cave, but could see no further path
on the shore. The inky waters came up to the
platform and another step would only plunge
them into its icy depths.

Then he turned his gaze on the wall of rock
and perceived a rude pathwa leading up in
a zigzag and reaching a plat orm above that
on which he stood. Beyond it was a great
black opening in the midst of which stood a
sheeted g Ost, gleaming snow white against the
bleak bac ground with all the startled effect of
res ty.

For a moment the blood rushed to the heart
of the bold partisan, so weird was the vision.
The men behind him had also caught sight of
the fearful figure and uttered low exnlamations
of. terror. Butler was the first to recover.

“Follow me, fools,”he said. "’Tis only a.
stalactito after all. See it glitter.”

“Ha! HAl as! ml“

Again the fearful hollow laugh sounded above
them, with its eculiarly ghastly mockery, and
the echoes in the can repeat (1 the sound again
and again, till it seemed as ’ a legion of demons
was loose. ,

But Butler was not to be longer denoted by
sounds, however fearful. Up the steep flpath he

gure in

rushed, rifle in hand. toward the white

the gloomy rtal, and his men after a little
hesitation fol owed him. -

Hardly bad they reached the tap, than
bright glare of crimson fire illuminated the
rocky cavern, making everything bri ht as day,
and turning the whole vast cham r into a
pal ice of jewels.

The glare came from a column of red flame
that shot up in the midst of the dark archway.
where the rent white stalactite shone out with
startling vidness.

Not a living creature was visible before them,
but the column of flame made it certain that
some one must be near by to have lighted it.
Butler rushed forward, calling to his men to
foflow, and then suddenly recalled, sis-three
fiery figures sprung out from the wall and rushed
forward waving homing swords that shone with
blue flames. ' ‘

The eflect was instantaneous on all but But-‘

ler. The Indians yelled with terror'and lunged
down the path, running headlong for t e o n-
ing by the merciful lght of the flame. he
dragoons fired a hastv random volley with
their rifles and fled after them, and the next
moment out ’went‘ the light and the three fiery
figures ‘wcnt sailing throu h the air over the
black lake lik'e birds of bel . uttering the same

fearful screechea’that had driVen the'savages to

fit ht.
n a moment more Butler was alone on the
figures, waving
d down on flu, and strikin
lonfinto the black lake'wlth a. splash. .
T n with afin l pan! of demoniac laughter

all three of the pparitions' circled back to the
rock and di red. leaving Indians and 'dra-
goons to find r 'way out as they could. '

 

CHAPTER XVII.
'rnn LAST na'r'rnn.

IA mum and dejected cavalcade was slowlv
emerging from the woods behind Burgoyne’s
narters, on the morning of the 7th of October.
> t was the returning arty under Butler, disap-

pointed of their aim, stem and dispirlted. ‘
The partisan. after his ducking in the lake
and the flight of his men, had certainly evinced
rare courage, for he had actually returned to
the assault on the following morning, ro.
vided with a quantity of t0rches of flaring p tch

ins.
p‘Under the stimulus of plenty of light, the
dragoons bad behaved' better, although nothing
could induce the Indians to venture back. They
had thoroughl explored'tbe first and second
caves without any further annoyance, but
neither did they make anymore discoveries.
By what means the three strange apparitions

‘, , ,i,.". 3,, y‘. , » ‘i.  - v
5'. ;_.,“.v war“. " 5:33,!  -. _  :3 i“. R“ f: 71“? _" '~",‘

' evil.

Old soldiers seldom do. They

 

 

 

had managed to lxecute their flight over the

'lake, remained a mystery, but they had evi-

dently vanished, for not a trace of living crea-
ture, save bats, was found. ,

Chamber after chamber, grand, ‘beautiful,
grotesque, and horrible, was passed, but they
heard no more the mocking echo of-demoniac
laughter.

Full of rage and disappointment, Butler re-
turned to the outer air, to find that his Indians,
useless and superstitious as they were under-i
ground, had made an important discovery by
the light of day, outside the limits of the cav-
ern.

The tracks of three horses were found. quite
fresh, at a little distance from the cavenn-ulh,
and they led toward the camp of Burgoyne,
from another ravine.

The back trail, when followed, led to another
opening in the hillside, and it became evident
that the tenants of the cave, human or super-
natural, had escaped. '

The brow of the partisan grew dark and
gloomy when he heard the new s, but be made
no remark. Ever since the plun e into the
subterranean lake, he had been muc depressed
in spirits, and now it. was with sullen apathy
that” he agreed to the proposal of Sir Franms
Clark, and led the return to Burgoyne’s
camp.

The distance was so great—nearly forty miles
—and their pace so slow, that it a as not till the
dawn of the following day that they came in
sight of the English army, and started to hear
the first guns of the decisive battle of‘Bemis‘s
Hiqhts, better known as Saratoga.

Sir Francis Clark started when he heard the
sound, and when a as 0nd report came boom-
ing through the woo 3. he gathered up his
reins, turned to Butler hastily and said:

“ Excuse me, colonel. Bring on the party as
slowly as you like. My duty takes me to the
general.”

Then waving his band, he struck a urs into
his'thorou hbred, and galloped of! own the
road, at fu I speed, toward the sound of the dis~
tent firing.

Butler hardly seemed to notice his departure
or the firing. The whole air of the man‘was
that of gloomy depreSsion. with a certain ex-
pectant apprehensive look, as if fearing coming
He rode slowly on, while the-sound of the
cannon became more frequent, sounding dull
and hollow behind the encircling woods.

- The men behind him conversed together in'
whispers; they did not seem to have the eager- ,

ness of Sir Francis Clark 'to go into the battle.
know too Wt“
what is coming. The German dragoons that
followed Butler were all veterahs, and though
they would go into any da :- nnmurmuring-
ii, there was a kind of etc id caution about
t em that revented any eagerness.

Besides. he gradual approach. at a slow pace.
to a battle, that one hears, but cannot sea, es-
pecially if the roapect is lmited by woods in
all directions, a llarly depressin to the
boldest spirits, an causes unwanted ' cues to
most men, who-would march gayly on, in an

open country.

Thus the ragoons following Butler ceased to
converse at all, and pressed silently on behind
their dogged leader, who took his way forward
on- the narrow, dusty road, the boom of guns
growing more and more frequent, and answered

y the more distant reports of the cannon from
the intrencbments of Gates. »- '  "

At ‘last an openin , appeared in the trees

ahead, and a white c and of smoke was visible
hanging in the air over a stubble field, beyond
which a little brown house nestled in the wrner
of a wood. ' ' '
' The sight seemed to have an effect on Butler
which hearing had failed to produce. Instinct-
ively he gathered up his reins and quickened his
pace, while hire a roamed War the battle-field
with a root glance. Itwas evident to a.
soldier at no serious fighting had yet begun,
for the guns were firin at regular intervals,
and the scarlet lines of t e grenadiers stood be-
hind them, while the dark-grsen mas-es of the
Hessians were i'scattered over the ground to the
left, near the glaring stacks of arms.

0n the American side all was quiet. ~ No mo-
tion could be perceived behind the dark curtain
of the woods, necked with gold and crimson as
it was, in the tints of Indian-summer. '

Occasionally, however, the distant report of a
heavy gun ‘was followed by the whirr and hum
of a round shot, which came high over the trees
and ‘plunged into the ground in front of the
Brit sh lines. ‘ '

“ Artillery dusk-much noise and no damage,”

muttered Butler in a tone of scorn asbe watched

1‘“

 

 

Black Nick, the Demon Rider.

 

the scene. “If I had my will they would try a
night-attack. The cursed Yankees can beat
them at shootin .”

His course le him toward the rear of the
British, and he was nearing the line when some-
thing caught his quick e e, and he halted.

Three figures on horse ack were riding slmvly
toward the American lines in a hollow that hid
them from British view, and he recognized them
in an instant.

One wore the broad-plumed hat and strange.
antique dress of the mysterious being that hxld
haunted him so Ion , the second was Adrian
Schuyler, in his gay ussar trappings, and the
third was the same girl who had, a mouth or
two before, caused such a. shock to the generally
immovable courage of the partisan.

Butler uttered a low inexnressibly savage
blasphemy as he looked at the three figures
riding so tran uilly past, with their backs
toward him, an evidently unconscious of his
presence.

“Now,” he muttered, in a tone of intense
eagerness, “now I have them at last, in day-
light, and they shall fool me no longer. What
if the girl docs wear her face? He, at least, I
know and hate. I have shamed him once,
gndlpo’w I’ll have sweet revenge, if I lose life

on .

He turned in his‘saddle and drew his sword.

“Men,” he said, in a low voice, “yonder
are three rebel spies. Follow _me and take
them, if it costs us all our heads. Will you
come?"

In a moment twenty swords were out, and

'the soldiers ansWered him with eager assent.

“Chargel" shouted Butler, driving, in his
spurs, and away he went at full speed after the
[three quiet equestrians.

The tall cavalier in the Louis XIV. dress

turned quietly in his saddle when he heard the
lthunder of boots on the road behind him, and
spoke a few words to his companions, with a
lgesture of contempt.
‘ Then, as Butler came within a hundred yards
the two black horses and the da pie-gray started
at a tremendous rate of spec , which speedily
distanced the lumbering dragoons, and taxed
the utmost exertions of the steed of the partisan
himself, to maintain his place.

In Vain he plied his s are. His horse was do-
ing its best, and not log could be gained.
Presently the road vs a turn round the wood,
and they came in Sight of the American lines,
as also within gunshot of a. long rank of horse-
men in the white frocks of M .rgan's rifiemen.
The tall cavalier pulled up, and turned to meet
Butler, at that sight, wh le Adrian and Diana
rode on.

The dogged courage of the partisan never
failed him, though his men were not within
supporting distance. He thundered on to meet
the stranger, and broad-sword and long rapier
met with a savage clang.

“Alphonse de Cavamws! I have you at
last!” _

“ Pierce Harley, your time is com I”

Hlssin the fierce greetings between their
teeth, t e combatants closed in a mortal
struggle.

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
run slmunsn,

Ir was evident that both men recognized each
other as old enemies, for they met with a ferocity
that told of undyil hate. The long rapier and the
broad-sword clash together and played in circles
ofa light, and the horses wheeled and bound.
ed, obe ientto hand and heel, as if they shared ev-
er wish of their masters.

The combatants were by no means une ually
matched. The dark stranger with the mini} face
was much the taller, but his long, lean frame lacked
the compactness and solid force of the Herculean
partisan. The inferiority in strenght was fuhy
m“ “P by ““pewmu‘i‘t’ 92.31%: St?” W“;
dered on the su 0- “m ‘ “881' t
with all the vigor of the demon he had so suggegss-
ful mounted.

enigma“, without the lightning velocity and
energ of the other, had yet a towering stren
joine to consummate skill with his weapon, a
made him a terrible antagonist. His horse was
much heavier than that of his foe, and seemed to be
equally well trained. Whenever they clashed to-
gether, the heavy steed of Butler sent the slight
black charger reeling from the shock, and the fierce
blows of the partisan beat down the guard of the
unknown at eve encounter.

The pale 'caval 6". however, found his revenge in
the more insidious and deadly thrusts, which he
found occasion to deliver at intervals, With his long-
er and l htcr well-POW and twice did he draw blood
with his point while he received in return _a smgle
318811 only. Which fell short of its full intention. and
p10wed along gash in his thigh, with the point of
the broadsword.

All these cuts and points passed in the space of
half a. minute, during which the two men fought

 

with a fu that must have completely exhausted
them in a s ort time.

Then the combat was interrupted as suddenly as
it {had begun, by the thunder of boots close by. as
the German dragoons swept down on the contend-
ing parties, with loud hurrahs, in a cloud of dustl

He who had been called De Cavanncs broke away
from his enemy as the dragoons rushed in, and was
soon surrounded with fees, whom he handled with
a coolness and vigor that showed the great differ-
ence between theln and their leader. Then came a
counter rush of boots, with the cracking of rifles and
file whistle of bullets, and down galloped a troo ) of
Morgan‘s redoubtcd Mounted Rifles, yelling t elr
war-cry.

Ill the midst of the new-comch rode the dashing
llussar. Adrian Schuyler, his )elisse fl ing behind
l'im, his saber waving, while I le dapp e-gray char-
ger swept on like a stornrgust.

Ill the first assault his sword clashed against that
ofaGcl'mau dragoon,and then darted through a.
man‘s body up to the hilt like a flash. The llussar's
horse, rushing on, actually bore the poor wretch out
of his saddle by the leverage, of the sword, and
Adrian was not able to extricate it in time to guard
a blow from one of the Gorillan’s comrades. The
long, straight broad-sword, whistling as it came, dc-
seended on the summit of the tall fur cap, and
clove it down on the llussar‘s skiill with crushing
force, stunning him so that he fell ever on his sad-
dle-bow, confused and senseless. How he mi ht
have fared isdoubtful, had not Do Cavannes, at he
same moment, caught the dragoon across the face
with a backhande slash of his long kecn sword that
divided his nose, and sent him rcelin back in his
saddle, ving Adrian time to recover h mself.

Then t 1e contest waxed furious.

Morgan‘s men were superior in numbers to the
dra oons, but their arms were b no means equal
to t ose of the others in a close ght on horseback.
Few had an but rifles and pistols, and those few
who carrie shert hangz-rs knew but little of their
use, compared to the well-instructed German
swordsmen.

On the other hand. their numbers and courage
told in their favor. Many clubbed their rifles, and
laid about them with a vigor that la bed at the
broad-swords. Where a man was cut own or run
through, some comrade would fell his slayer with
the butt of his rifle.

Onl the terrible lpartisan, Butler, made his heav
awe of more we ght than the clubbed rifle. e
raged through the fight, driving back the stoutest
riflemen like children with his enormous strength.
Meeting Adrian Schuyler, when the press prevented
maneuvering, he beat down his guard. and felled
him to the earth with a. single stroke, then turned to
face De Cavannes, who was making toward hiln
through the swaying crowd.

But such savage fighting could not last long.
Strong and brave as were the dragoons, the increas-
ing numbers of Morgan’s men bore down their op-
position by sheer weight of horse-flesh, and the
whole mass drove down toward Burgoyne‘s lines,
strugglilu; and shouting, but too closely packed to
allow the use of was ous of any size.

Then, at last, the untlng-knives of the rlfiemen
came into play, and they made it too hot for the
dragoons, who, one by one, broke out of the fight.
and fled toward the English army, pursued by the
shouting riflemcn.

Even the generally indomitable Butler was fain to
turn his horse, his venneance unsatisfied, and quit a.
tight in which he had only overthrown one of his
enemies.

Adrian Schuyler, stunned and bleeding from a
head wound, scrambled to his feet in the dusty road,
and beheld De Cavanncs, dismounted, and approach-
ing him as if to assist him.

t seemed as if some mutual understanding exist-
ed between the two, however originating. for Adrian
evinced no surprise at the other‘s coming. He stag-
geirali slightly and put his hand to his head, saying

a at t

“ I ear, count. that I have not done you credit to
day. The villain has escaped, and ’th m fault.“

The mysterious stranger smiled grav y, as he an-

swered:

“B y you did yOur best, but fate must. be ful-
filled. lie will not escape forever. No! If he did, I
should almost believe there is no God of justice.“

Seen by the light of the day, the strange being
was of noble figure. His great hight and spare
make did not detract from, but rather added to the
air of m story and dignit that surrounded him.
His palli face. not now d started by assumed ex-

ressions, was noble and intellectual in outline. and
{he anti e dress that he wore, with the flowing
black, in -bottomed wig, added to the majesty of
his looks, while the long, black mustache evinced
that its wearer must have been acavalry officer
that facial ornament being peculiar to the mounted
service, in those days.

“ Are you badly hurt, mon am! I" he asked, with a.
slight French Wilt.”

"I don’t know." said Adrian, faintly. “I feel
stupid and weak, but there is little pain. I think I
have a. cut on the head.“

De Cavannes advanced and examined the wellnd
of the other with great care, and nodded his head as
if reassured,

“There is no great harm done,“ he said. “The
sword must have turned in his hand, and our cap
Milled you. But you cannot go into ha e to-day.
Your general has been an rseded by the vain fool,
Gates. Let us depart. Vi en the battle is overit

will be time to see to our purpose."

Slowly he led the hussar away to his horse just as
the first scattering rifle-shots told that the contest
was Opening in earnest, and when the volleys of

 

13

 

 

musketry pealed out from the wheat-fields, Adrian
Schuyler was resting by a spring in the forest, while
the beautiful Diana was bathing his head and bind-
ing ilp his wounds.

It is not our purpose to describe the battle of Sara-
toga in these pages. That has been well done ill the
glowing pages of Irving. Headley, and Lossin '; and
to atlem ttlle task were but u. re )ctition 0 their
words. .et the reader imagine the ncrcaslng tinn—
(lcr of answering guns, the rapid roll of the volleys,
and the charging cbccr of th- Englisll I‘lf'l-ih‘llll'l.
and Yankee volunteer, the field wrapped ill bluish
clouds of smoke, where the. fierce powder-smell
stings the nostrils, and the spiteful rcd ilDHlll'Nlli'."
swcr each other out of the haze, wllcrc the bl'lll is.
hiss and the round shot hum, while the L'rnpc-l-lllot
come by with a heavy swish, and ill the midst of all,
wild Arnold rages up and down like alien at bay,
driven to frenzy by his foes.

Alas for Arnold, that l is greatest and most glori—
ous field should have been his last! Nevollnore Io
direct the tide of victory thereafter, on that strickt n
ilcld he lea ed to alllgllt of glory, from wllcncc~
three years ater, he was to plunge llto an abyss cf
infalny covered will the. curses of honest men, his
only he of mere King in friendly oblivion.

Let t in field oi ratoga go by, with its well—
known result. while we turn to the fi-w charllctcls
of our story around whim our plot has revolwd,
and draw the shifting drama to a cloae.

CHAPTER XIX.
'rmc CAFITI'LA'l XON.

IN the room of a farm-house in the Amcricrn
lines near Sarato a, 0. kn c. glithcrln of officers
was assembled. he scal'ct of the rllish, the
dark-green of the Hessian and the homely blue and
buff of the American oflicers mingled in friendly
union for the first time.

The Britth officers looked loomy and depressed,
while the Americans treat them with marked
courtcs and consideration. A carria rolled up
to the oor of the farm-house, nttendc b a single
dragoon, and a lad with two little chi dren was
llel d out by one o the American officers. whose
p ll uniform bore no distinctive marks of rank.

This same officer had a peculiarly kind and benev-
olent ex ression on his face. He took up the fri ht.—
cncd litt e ones in his arms as readily as if he lad
been their ropcr parent, kissed them affectionatcly.
and turn to Welcome the mother with all the
kindly courtesy of a cntlcman of the old school.

The lady was the 'aroncss Reidcsel, wire of the
Hessian commander, and her heart was at once
won to the kind stranger.

“ Oh, sir,“ she said. impulsively, “you are very,
very kind, to us who l ave ingurc you so much.“

“Dear madam." said the s ranger " that was hit
the fortune of war. You are trembling. Do not be
alarmed, I pray you. Probabl it may be some-
what cmbarrassing to you to e the only lady in
such alnrge compnn of gentlemen. Pray let me
fake you and the clli (hell to my tent, where I will

yi‘ to entertain you as best I can."
mhe tears lushe<\to the eyes of the lady, as she
“Oh, sir, you must be a husband and father to
show us so much kindness. Tell me only to whom
I am indebted."

“The debt is mine, madam," said the officer.
politely. “I am General Schuyler."

And indeed it was that noblest of all heroes of the
Revolution, after Washington, the general to whose
genius the capture of Burgoyne was owin , and who
was et superseded in the hour of his t umph by
the ntrigues of the unscrupulous Gates, around
whose brows the laurels Were placed that refilly
belonged to Schuyler. The baroness in her me-
moirs has left us this little incident, illustrative of
the real nobilit of the man.

In Schuylers wt, in which the harmless soon
found herself, she was greeted with respectful cor-
diality by a. youn, lady, one of the most beautiful
creatures she ll ever seen who was introducl d l0
her by the general as “lilademoiselle Diane de
Cavanncs, the betrothed wife of my cousin, Cap-
tain Schuyler."

Sitting down to dinner. the baroness was soon
after introduced to a remarkably handsome young
officer of hnssars, as the cousin in question, who
entered while they were at table.

The conversation was carried on indifferently in
English. German and French, for every one at table
seemed to be a good linguist, and before half an
hour had the balances felt as hap yas if
she had been among intimate friends inuread of
being, as she really was, in an cnemy's camp, her
husband and all his army risonera.

While they were still a table, however, an inci-
dent occurred which showed that war was not at.
rest entirely.

A disturbance was heard outside, some shouting,
the reports of two muskets, followed by the gallop
of a horse near the tent.

Adrian Schuyler jumped up at a signal from the
general, and went out to see what was the matter.

he baroness, full of vague fears, as was natural to
a lady in her loner position, remained silent and
absent-minded, in spite (f the assiduous attentions
of her host and Mademoiselle de Cavannes to con-
tinue the conversation.

It was not long, however, before she was was
surcd by the entrance of Adrian, who was accom-
panied by Baron Reidcsel himself.

“All, men ami “ exclaimed the anxious wife, "I
feared some terrible this? had hagpened to thee."

The baron, after he ng to eneral Schuyler,
whom he seemed to know, explained the distur
ance in a few words.

tr
so

 

 
   

‘14

l

 

' It seemed that Burgoyne and his principal officers
had been dining with (kites and his staff. and that
all were somewhat the Worse for wine, as was cour-
mon in those days of hard drinking.

I That ono of Bur oync‘s officers, who, it appeared,
had held an in( epcndent command among the
rangers and Indians attached to the ex dition, had
distinguished himself by the dc )th of iis potations
which yet had no apparent e ect on him sum to
make im more sullen and resorved.

“ He was alwa s a surly fellow, that Butler," said
the baron; “an none of us had liked him much,
but he was a valuable officer at collecting intelli-
gence and planning surprises, and broug t us in
more news than all our scouts. so Sir John tolerated
him. Once or twice, I believe he went out as a spy
among your people. general. Pretty soon, a dis ute
arose a table about that unfortunate affair of iss
McCrea, and although both generals tried to stop it,
words waxed hi h. Then on a sudden this Butler
chimed in with t e disputants in the most insulting
manner, and the end of it was that he ave the lie
direct to Colonel Morgan of the Ri es. One of
Morggn‘s officers, who sat next to Butler, maddencd
by h potations, so far forgot himself as to strike
Butler. I shall never forget the scene that followed.
Butler caught up a carving-knife, and before any
one could interfere he literally hacked the other to

ieces. Then with a savage curse, he flung the

nife at Gates, rushed from the house, knocking
down two ofilcers that tried to stop him, as if the
were children, sprung on the horse of Gates himsel .
that stood b the door and actually escaped. I tell
you, genera , that so red us all. Such an affair I
never saw before nor hope to again. It has cured
me of doc drink 3 for a ion while."

Even as e was finishing], a all gentleman entered
the tent, with a hasty apo o , went u to Schuyler
and whis red in his ear. 8 gener looked grave
and trou led but he answered, hastily:

“ Certainly, count certainly. I have no command
here, and Adrian's duties are merely honorary. He

The Count de Cavannes, for it was none other,
turned to Adrian Schuyler and the young lady, who
was known as Diane do Cavannes, and spoke rapid-
ly in French:

“My children. we must be in the saddle in an
hour. The enemy of my house is at large, and I
have sworn never to rest till he is t doing further
mischief. Make your excusesan follow."

Then, with a hurried bow to the rest of the com-
pany that told of the high-bred courtesy that even

as 0 could not extinguish, the mysterious count
left the tent.

Baron Reidesei remained staring at the tent door
in blank surprise after his departure for some
minutes. Then he turned to Schuyler and asked, in
a low voice:

“Excuse the question, Monsieur is General, but
who is that tail gentleman that has gone out i"

“The Count do Cavanncs, father to this youn
lady,” said the general, with awave of his ban
toward mademoiselle.

“ And, excuse me, does he ho a commission in
your forces?“

“ That is a. question, baron, I nnot in honor an-
swer," said the other, gravely. “ He is a true friend
to our cause, I will say."

“Eh, mon Dim it is explained, then," muttered
the baron. “ He s an agent of the Secret Service."

Schuyler smiled but made no answer, and after
fidgcting for some minutes, the baron resumed:

‘ Will you excuse one more question?"

“ Certainly, baron. If I can answer, I will.”

“ The count, is he a—well, a con'nrcr?"

“I can answer that," late so Diana, who had
listened to the colloquy th an amused smile.
“ M father was a member of the French Academy
of iences baron, and a pupil of the cat Caglios-
tro himse . Have you seen him be ore, that you
ask?’

“ Mon Dieu, mademoiselle, I should think I had.
Did he not enter the quarters of Burgo he himself
in spite of his sentrles and f ' hten us it out of our
senses, in the likeness of the ing of evil himself?"

To his surprise, both Adrian and Diana burst into
a hearty laugh, and the former said:

“1 do not wonder baron. The count frightened
me once, in a way I shall never forget. But now I
know him, let me say that a more honorable and
braver gentleman never made use of the artifices of
(war to deceive and entrap an enemy. Farewali
Ibaron. The day will come when you will know and
greSpect De Cavannes as I do."

And he left the tent with Diana.
CHAPTER XX.
'rmi: nonN'rAIN noun.

Ones more we are in Vermont, in the little valley
scoo ed in the side of the Haunted Hill. The
roug stone cottage still stands in the middle of the
clearin , but it is no longer lonely. Several horses
are tie to the trees around, two of them jet-black,
the rest caparisoned chargers, in the midst of which
the dipple-gray steed of Adrian Schuyler is noticed.
Sever rangers were lounging about. and in the
hut, and the smoke curls up from the wide chim-
ney, showing blue amid the silvery haze of Indian
summer.

But afeatnre has been added to the scene since
we were first there. It is not the vivid dyes of
autumn alone. The mountain sides glow with crim-
son and gold, but that is not all.

The change consists in the fact that aloft portal
has been revealed, cut into the preci ice t at bor-
ders one side of the glade, while t o cavern to
which it gives entrance, instead of bein dark. is
cl“illuminated from within, and shows as right as

y.

 

Black Nick, the Demon Rider.

 

 

 

 

No rough. damp cavern is it either, but a lofty
apartment, the rocks hidden With hangin s of white
and crimson cloth, while within, gatlicrei around a
table, are General Schu ler, the Count de Cavannes
Adrian, and Diana, at t 0 close of a dinner, waite
on by black servants.

The general holds up his glass to the light and ad-
dresses De Cavannes. saying:

“Count, to your future ife. May it be happier
than the past. It is time to redeem your promise,
and tell your children all."

The count‘s face was grave and sad as he re lied:

“ Philip, you say true. but you cannot tell w at it
is to me to barrow up those recollections. Still, it
must be done, for I have promised."

’I‘hcn turning to the young people, who were re-
spectfully listenin , he addressed t cm:

“ Adrian Schuy er, I have trusted thee as I never
havo trusted living man since—since—something
happened in my past life. What that was, thou
shzzit learn. I trusted thee, not alone for thine
honest face, but for the name thou bearest. Thy
cousin Philip and I were once fellow-students and
travelers, and I never knew one of his blood that
was a traitor. Diana, my daughter, thou hast, for
many a car, held more fear than love to thy
father. ow thou shalt learn the cause that drove
me to the wilderness, and made of me, once as
frank as the day the gloomy hater of my kind that
I was before Adrian came to us, to bring light from
the outer world."

Then, while his audience gathered round him,
hanging with intense interest on his words, the
count told them the story of his life, which we shall
epitomize as briefly as possible.

Alphonse do Cavennes, count in France, baron in
Germany and even duke of a small Italian province,
was, at thirty, an object of envy to half of Europe,
for his riches and social position. Descended from
a family which united the best bloods of three kin -
doms, hoinherited vast estates in all, greatest of a l
in France. Such was the frank generosity of his
nature, that his parasites were numerous, but to
none of them had be shown so much kindness as to
a young English officer, a scion of the noble house
of Oxford, Pierce Harley b name. This outh had
been taken risoner byt 6 count in t e famous
battle of Fon noy,thirty-two years before the date of
our tale, and his captor, instt'ad of leaving him as be
well might have done, to the fate of an officer on
parole. on scanty y, had taken him into his own

ouse in Paris an treated him with the kindness of
a brother. He had been induced to this course
chiefly from the finding that Harley was a distant
relation of the young Countess de Cavannes, who
was by birth English, and whom her husband posi-
tively ado . Young Harley, then a handsome,
athletic young fellow, had professed himself ex-
tremely rateful for this kindness. Bein a younger
son, wit out fortune, the friendship o the great
French lord was of much value to him. When peace
was concluded, moreover, instead of allowing
Harley to go back to England. the generous count
insisted on his resigning his commission, and re-
maining in France as steward of all De Cavannes's
estates, everywhere treated as the trusted friend of
their owner. Harley accepted it, and for twelve

ears occu led the post, doing exactly as he pleased.
lt was du ng this period that Schuyler. then on a
visit to Europe, met his old fellow-student, and wit-
nessed, with amazement, the splendor of his estab-
lishment. The count was then deep in those ex-
pensive scientific experiments to which he owed all

is subsequent resources as a con urer and magi-
cian, in com any with the celebrate Count Caglios-
tro. It was ‘ hu ier who induced the count to pay
a visit to Amer ca, and Harley managed all the
details of the expedition, which was made in princely
style. On arrival in America, De Cavannes was so
much charmed with the beauty and randeur of the

scene . that he decided that he wo d buy an estate
near bany, and spend at least a portion of his
time there.

It was only then, after twelve years of apparently
faithful service on the part of Harley, that
Cavannes discovered that all was not right in his
affairs. Expecting to be able to raise money to pur-
chase in America by a mortgage on his French
estates, he found to his surprise and dismay, that
every acre of land which he held in Europe was
already heavil incumbered. Schuyler, whose keen,
solid intellect ad from the first led him to suspect
maladministration on account of the reckless ex-
travagance he had witnessed, persuaded his friend
to go to Europe and make a secret investigation of
his affairs in compan with himself. leaving Harley
in America to put t 8 Albany estate in condition.
To do this, the generous American himself secretly
advanced the purchase-money for the estate, and
undertook the task of lulling Harley‘s suspicions.
which the open-hearted count was hardly capable of
doin , in the first revulsion of suspicion. To
brie , the scheme was carried out. The countess
was left in America under charge of the BUS cted
agent, along with the baby Diana, who ha been
born a few days previous to the discovery of Har-
ley’s monetar' faithlessncss. Of anything worse
than reckless ncapacity the count never suspected

him.

The friends went to Euro and found that the
trusted friend and potted s eward, Pierce Harley,
had not only robbed his benefactor for his own
benefit, but had actually to ed his name to mort-
gages, so that two-thirds of he count‘s income was
swallowed up in paying interest on loans of which
he had never reaped any benefit. -

De Cavannes, once undeoeived, was a changed
man. With noble magnanimity he would not take
advantage of the people who had been victimized by
the forgerles. Neither would he continue to pay

 

the interest. He took a middle course. conveying
all his estates to a board of his creditors to apply
the proceeds to the extinction of the principal of
these sums that ho had never received, and reserv-
in to himself only enough to repay the generous
Sc uyier and to supply a 'ear‘s expenses for a small
household in America. T ien he took passage back,
and arrived at Albany with Schuyler to find the
country in a state of war, and Howe’s expedition to
Ticonderoga on foot.

Full of fury at- the recent discoveries. he sum-
moncd Harley to his presence, informed him in a
few stinging words of is estimate of his character,
than bid him draw and defend himself. To his sur-
prise, Harley, usually a man of obstinate courage,
turned pale and without a word fled from his
presence, w lie the count, too road to pursue a
wretch so sordid as be deemed him, contented him-
self with throwing a drinking-cup after him with a
force that cut the villain‘s head as he went. Then
the disdainful noble went to seek his wife, whom he
had not yet seen.

Then, and then only, did he sound the last depth
of Harley's perfldy. The false steward was dis-
covered in the countess's chamber, and she w as hang-
ing on his neck, weeping bitterly, while Harley
rained kisses on her lips.

Here the count stopped, and his paleness became
livid while his voice sunk ioa grating whisper.

“ I’ killed Diana. Do you blame me? I would have
killed him, but he left again. Icould not let both
escape."

There was a dead silence in the room as he paused.
tA moment later he said in a quiet, almost indifferent

one:

” That nifht the Indians burned my house to the
ground an scalped me, leavin me for dead, and I
recognized Pierce Harley fort eir leader. He had
the better of me at every point."

Again there wasadead silence, again the count

spoke:

“You found me, Philip, and nursed me to life.
You do not wonder that when I recovered l vowed
vengeance on Pierce Hurley and all his crew of red
dev s. I have kept the vow well. Tw: nty long

ears have I hung on the trail of the Mohawks, now
n one place, now in another. I found this cave first,
afterward the one near Oriskany. The idea struck
me that by keepm the secret of the caves and work-
ing on the supers itiou of the Indians, 1 might ac-
q re a double power Over them. I hid the entrance
to this, and no one knew where the other was. It
was your help, Phili , that supplied me with the
means to personate t e demon and frighten the sav-
ages with redfire. That and my own activit and
caution, sharpened tenfold b woodcraft, tang t me
how to make myself dreade and shunned by every
warrior of this nation. .

“ But in all that time I never could find Pierce
Harley, though I sogght him eve where. Diana
shared in solitude ter her fou eenth year, and
no one in he convent-school at Montreal dreamed.
when Mademoiselle De Cavennes left them afinished
pupil, that she went to the woods to share the trials
of a mood , misanthropical outcast, whose bidding
she obeye with fear and trembling but whose secrets
she ke t with the true fidelity of a daughter. You
little t ought, Adrian Schuyler, when you met the
simple-seeming girl in rustic tunic, that her innocent
air was reall ' apiece of consummate art, and that
your cousrn hili p knew the whole secret. The bear
and the fame deer, the Spanish bounds. the voices
in the air, the supernatural figures, they were all
very awful to you at first, were they not? But, now
that you know all, you do not wonder that I would
not trust you before Bennington. I sent you my
horse on u 056 to test your truth. and you proved
a true Sc uy er. Ma you be happy with Diana.”

The count had bar i finished his story when there
was a noise without. 6 started up.

“I thought so." he exclaimed "the scouts have
tracked him to earth, and are driving him hither."

The next moment a horseman dashed up to the
lcave, lfiaped of! his beast, and strode in, bearing 3,

cm: ri c.

It was the dreaded Butler.

Behind him, at a distance, rode up a dozen ran-
gers. ,

 

CHAPTER XXI.
'ms unrrsxn‘s REVELATION.

Tm: gloom docking partisan crossed the thresh-
old, grounde the butt of his rifle, and faced the
count without a word.

Cavennes rose to his feet, and his eye gleamed
as he said:

“I knew you would come. After all. You are D0
coward, if on are a villain, Pierce."

The part san laughed sardonically.

“ Do you render that much justice to me, Al-
phonse? You are growing rational. I remember
when you would not hear aword, and murdered an
innocent woman in your frenzy.

The count shook his head and all the fire died out
of his eyes. “

“Pierce Harley," he said, if yon could prove
that. no living man would be more glad than I to
spend the rest of my life in the torments of hell on
earth. that I might see her once more, to ask her
forgiveness one moment. But it is useless. Traith
an false friend who hit the hand that fed yon. It 18
vain to defend her from what I know."

“Let it pass then,” said Butler—- or Harley as be
are

must now be called-gloomily. “Your wo

true as regards me. You cannot believe what I say
about her, of course. Let it pass."

“ Tell me then." said the count, doubtfuliy, " why
you came here?"

“ To die," was the laconic replg.

De Cavannes laughed scornful

 

 

 

.._._A‘ n... .—

 

r Black menus Demon Rider.

 

 

“lluve ou realized that? thy did you not come
bl'fOl‘C? ou know I was not dead, though you once
thought I was. The day of Saratoga told you that
I was no ghost, if you half suspected before. Did
you fear to meet me, that 31’1011 waited till my
lranvers drove you from your ut, and chased you
lore?"

“I did," said Harley, with the same sullen man-
ner.

~“I wish you had come alone,“ said the count, in
his grand manner. “It would have saved me the
trouble of pitying you, for I do not care to kill a
man that fears death.“

Again Harley laughed sardonic-ally.

“ You are wrong, Alphonso. on wrong as you once
were about your wife. 1 don‘t fear you. I waited
to see if you hated me enough to lake trouble for
in death. ’ ‘

‘And you are satisfied that you deserve it?" said
the count, gravely. .

"I suppose so, according to one law," returned
Harley, coldl . “ By the law of vengeance you
have 'our ri ts. Take them. I‘m weary of life."

“I erce arley," said the count, solemnl “my
men are round on, and you are doomed to die. In
the presence 0 God, tell the truth. What had I
done to you that you should turn traitor to me as
you did, trying your best to ruin one who had never
done ou ought but benefits?“

Har e turned his eyes gloomin round the saint-
ment til they rested on the lovely face of D na
Then he said:

“ You see that rl. As she looks now, thirty-five
years ago looked or mother, and I loved her before
she ever saw you. You have your answer.‘

“This is no answer,” said the count. fiercely-
“ What had I done to on to provoke such treason.“

“ I loved Dian; Har e , fool. She was my cousin
by blood, and I loved or before you saw her. I
was r, you were rich. She went to France,
socregly betrothed to me, and she broke her troth,
forced to it by Oxford, her father. You knew she
did not love you. What do you Frenchmen care for
love in a youn wife? She loved me first and I
loved her. If had not, do on think I could have
forgiven her the wrong she id me? I did forgive
her, when I saw her in Paris but I swore revenge on

on and I have its t my cat ."

The count had i nod to the other with iron com-
posure, but with perfect courte%not seekinglto
interru t him in any manner. en Harley ad
finisht. there was a short silence, broken by the
coun v ,

" Then I am to understand, monsieur, that you do
me the honor to avow that you sought my house for
the deliberate purpose of destroying my happiness
and ruining my fe.”

“ The man t at says that Diana Harley was mined
by me lies," 'said the partisan, in harsh tones. “I
loved her, but you—curse you—had her—she was
your wife. m that moment I swore to kill you,

ut nothing would have tempted me to stain her by
so much as one word a maiden or chaste wife might
not hear.”

De Cavannes, for the first time looked increduIOus,
and Harley, noticing the look. laughed a strange,

,, hollow, despairing laugh. .

“ You Frenchmen could not understand that of a
cold. brutal Englishman, could you? Fool; in the
apathetic seeming hearts of the North, love burns
with a fervor you mincing d g-masiers never
dreamed of, as white as the furnace flame that
melts steel and as pure of dross. I tell you I loved
Diana. In that love an angel might have gloried.
It was pure at least. If I smued it was like Lucifer
not like your entlemen of the court, who count
every woman air prey.”

Hero, for the first time the count interposed.

“ Stop. monsieur: you ow better than that with
me. Besides, on w o boast of your purity in love,
what meant t t scene I witnessed. Diana. in your
arms before my very face? Ha, monsieur, does that
make on vaince?" h

e n rmnessw ich had so far distin lshed
Harley was indeed giving m; m an seemingl The
strong man trembled violent y, and turned a gaze,
halt piteous half fierce on the second Diana, whose
marvelous llkonessto th first had been declared-
Then he and“ 8N“ his teeth and turned on
the count “in " enmity that bordered on insanity.
while he burst out:

“ y, lory in it, Alphonse. truined you.
demo me. My defeat and disgrace were com-

lote and in that disgrace she itir me and allowed

her ong-smothered love to urst forth. And I

weak tool that I was, lost control of mm]: when i

saw her tears. In one moment Hold her all

my long love, and that moment was her last. You
saw 01% and stabbed her. Do you-know whylmd
not it you then, Alphonse do Cavannes? Because

You would have gone to meet her. You were a

noble man, then. Now, on have stained your

hands with blood, and are oomed. I hate you now,
as I always did. Now take my cum and speed to
hottest hell, to m. 91; me when come!“ _

limbo“? 1:31:13!!! his riflehintg the pmg his

w a s on re 0 nt

Iona ,an the flu P I 1y

The moment would have been the est of the

Count de Csvnnnes. but for the prom titude‘of

Adrian Schuyler. The active hussar' ad been

watching the partisan keenly, and in the nick of

time his saber left its sheath striking up the barrel of
the piece, to be plum the next instant into the

"‘7 of Flame Harley.

.Without a group, the grim partisan dropped am»

35 a threw her arms round her father's deliv-

erer with a shrink. .

There is but little more to add to; our tale now.

and you

 

The reader will Comprehend how Adrian, meeting
Dc (.‘nvannes and Diana at Bennington, and taken
into the confidence of the former, had aesisted him
in the ghostly manifestations in the cavern b the
sic of De Cavannes‘s thorough knowledge 0 the
locality and ropes fixed to some of the smiactites
for the purpose of executing their aerial fliglllit over
the lake, shining in suits covered with phosp orus.

It only remains to add that Adrian and Diana
were married the year after, and departed with the
count to Europe. By this time the count's estates
had paid oi! their incumbrances by the rents in the
course of twenty years, and De Cavannes was once
more a rich man.

He was one of the few nobles of France who took
the popular side along with Lafayette during the
French Revolution, and lived to see Adrian a gen-
eral under the empire. But all his subsequent for-
tunes never wiped out the memories of the past, and
he often recounted to his randchildren the pranks
he lsyed the savages in merica uner the name
of LACK NICK. ‘

THE END.

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8 Kuuauo Kin . liy mum" llill. (Ilnn. w. F. (all; .i
4 The W lid-l om llunloro. liy Cuptnln hlnyuu Raid and
Captain l-‘rodoririi “'hltinkrr.
5 Vaunbond Joe, the Yuung Wnndr-ring Jew. By Oil Comma».
limlilln- nurnimr, l‘l center.

6 llill ltiddon, Trapper. n. Edward 5. Him.

17 The Flying Yankee. iiy Uulnnui l‘rrntian lngrvtlutln.

N “GUI Jone-t “l’. 'l‘hv ("uptiy-m n-i lh- Frontier. il_\' E. 5. Ellis.
9 Adventure: of Baron .‘llllli'lllllllt'll.
10 Nail. Todd or, 'l'h.- l'niu 0! [hr Nani i'upllvi-a. lly E. S. Hill.

ii The 'I'wo ilett‘cih't'n. liy Aliwrl \\'. sliimn.

l! iinllh or’u Tran-elu- A 'uyugv tu Lilli-m, and n YUM-g.» tn
ltrnt-dlnzv-n‘z. My l)t‘i‘il Swift.

18 The Dumb Hp . iiy ()li ('lmlnvw.

l4 Aladdin; "I’. 'l'g'i‘ “'undu-ri‘nl Dump.

1.} 'I hl‘ hen-(Hal. My ('nlllnin Fuuivyi: li \Vliillni t'?.

)6 Iloblnuon Uruaoo. (‘17 lllmtrnu-um) It; llui-vu'.

I? "III )ll “0 " tllu Hay lim't'nllm-r. ill ('ul. l'it'liii"\ lllgrltllllln.

IN Mm bud t 1- Huilor. l-‘rmn tlm .\r.l.mn hlglua.

ill The I’hnntom pr. ll} lillilnin- it‘ll.

90 The Douhlo Duxlerl. liy Edward L \th-lnr.

2i 'l‘lu- Frontier An‘oi. lly Edward S. Kill...

221 he Hon erpont; ur.’l'iu~ liuy livid-munt‘rim-n. ll\ J. l.t'“‘i‘i.

all Niel. 0‘ the Ni ht: M, Tho “0y Spy “P701. liy ‘l'. (I. llnrllangh.

24 Diamond Dirf. liy (alum-I l'rrllli~l inulllilltlli.

2:» The Do (lo tuln.

all Clth‘li loo . tho iiuilh n ilrlnnn. liv l‘Llward ll. “'lu'alrr.

2? Ania-lope Abe, tho tiny Guido. iiyil l (forum-a.

2N Hull'qu liong the Printer»! tlm i'lal'll. liy E. l.. “’hc-elur.

a: The Dumb l "to. liv (blptnln Frvtii-rivk \t'liittnlu-r.

h,’{0i'h“’0(lli. liy tinny St. Hmer
‘r'tllw ot the l'ralrina. li\' Uli Quinton.

lly i'ltlwnni l.. “'hoolor.
88 The Ill-out! Bloodhound. lh' 8. W. Home.
“4 tire on NI. liy Captain J. l". C. Adams.
85 iv“ ivnn. “M Roy Cinnr‘lr Dural. lly E. L. “'heoltr.
88 ‘I in- lio Clown. iiy l-‘mnk S. Firm.
8? The III den Lod o. lly T. C. llurlmnuh.
8” Ned “.ilde, tho i Iy Scout. liy Teams Jack.
89 Doutll- ‘uee, the Dru-«tho. Hy Edward 1.. Wheeler.
40 Ilovin lien. llv John J. :‘ial'ahttll. '
' it, tho Hung Manta" n-r. By Oll Coomel.
By iuiward L. “'hc-clur.
4.8 Dick Dariin . the Foo Expreaa Rider. By Capt. “'hlttalur.
44 ltuttlin Ru e. lly nrr_\ St. (in-«mo.
45> (lid Avu ant-lie the Great Annihilator. By E. L. “'iterlrf.
46 Glan- Eye, n... (inat Shot nitho “'ut. By J. r. n. m"...
4? Nightingale N It; or, The Fore-t (‘nptainm My HnrimuKh.
48 H uck John. tha ROM-Afinnt. liv prh ill. Budge-r, Jr.
49 iMlllllt (Iii. tho Multod ' rmr. iiy llldwnrd L. “'haoler.
60 Hurt litlnito . lilo Trarper. By (L E. Lnnnlle.
(bl Tile Bo Lille- or, 'lhe Underground Camp. By A.C.lron,
63 The W ite llu nio. liy (f. E. anHo.
68 Jim Bludnoo In, the Day l‘henix. liy EJ. “'hm-lc-r.
b4 Nod Ilazei, the no Trapper. By ('upt. .l. l-‘. C. Admnl.
55 Dead! -Eye. tho [unknown Smut. My iinihtio liili.
iii-09' I’M. IN Captain J. l". C. Ail-"ll.
b? Peudwood- Digit'a En‘iea. lly l-denni L. Whaler.
5“ i‘ho llordt-r king; or, Thr Srrrri For. My ()li i‘onmol.
59 0i i "‘Mto t or, handy Ellll'a Senip. iiy llarry St. George.
00 The White ndian. lly Captain J. F. C. Ada" a.
GI Buddha-1| Bill: or, Thu lied Ritlr Tram. liy E. L. Wheeler.
08 The Nhudow “hip. liy Colonel l’rrnti-a lngmhlm.
68 The Red Brotherhood. liy W. J. Hamilton.
64 Dundlyfluok. liy T. C. ilnrbnllyh.
85 ilurr hallo. Bill. iiv .loarph l-Z. llnrigo‘r, Jr.
66 Hlnxie “and or. A Me (or it Life. ltv W. J. Hamilton
6? Patent-Loot or Joe. ltv Philip 8. Warm.
1" 0 order Robin lloo . lly llufluio llill.
69 Gold Rifle thv Sha houtnr. By Edward 1.. Wheeler.
'30 old Zip'n Cabin. {'Captaln J. F.1‘. Aduim.
Tl Delaware Dick, ih» mung Ranger Spy. lly Oil Cool-nu.
8 Ton: “lea-tern, the ‘uun Ranger. lly w. J. Hamilton.
?8 Deadwood Dick on Deck. By Edward L. Wheel-r.
74 ilnwk-eye flurry. fly on Coomra.
5 The Boy Duell-t. ii ' (‘oionui Prenliu lnz‘ahnm.
Abe Colt, the ('ruw-Kll «r. ll“ Alhort W. Minn.
orduro Ch: line, the Boy itravo. ii) E. L. Wheeler.
inc Dir . By ('uptnln Maync Reid. '
Ii Ginger. the Giant Trapper. By Ally-rt W. Ailrrn.
W‘bud Rob. By Elm-rd L. \\ ho-rlar.
[inning lo. 3\ Captain J. l". C. Alilllill.
Barefoot, the “'ood-Hawll. By T. C. limb-ugh.
olio. the Boy Ranger. liy (ill numm.
yi the Girl liner. By Edward L. Winder.
In! Bueltrau. By (“Apmln J. l-‘. C. Adama.
Don Rook. tho Man (mm Tau. lly G. Waldo Brown.
ho Pirate».  lain Mayne Raid.
as l’lloh’rlwh ran. the y slain. in. n.1,. Whaler.
fl Jim. B the author 0!" Juli llarltaway."
like Dread l" 1-. RV Goorgo Waldo Brown“.
The Contain «the (‘lu I). Dr B-uobridtre Horn 3.
I Chet, tho Cmintoriultm Phi-i. By E. 1.. Radar.
Klan-o. By Edward 3. Ellis.
By 1‘. (1 Harbangh.
oven. By Liout. Col. iiaaollino.
9‘ Watch-Eye. the Shadow. By Edward l. Whaler.
7 The Outlaw Brothers. Hy John J. Manhnll.
98 Robin Hood, tho Outlawod Earl. a; not. Gildoraleevo.
99 Tito Tiger o Tool. By com a aido Brown.
:90 £3 \lr'oodk Dioitdin Igadsg'llei‘ Byiill. LS iWimp".
ac ar away a . cw or . v. rum rd in: .
[Me Boga-E“... By Colonni Prentlu inguinal: r"
on of e Sea. By'Coionel Dull. Earn.
ad Dick‘s Device. By Edward L. Wlmlcr.
ate. tho iluntor.  f‘optain ii. Holmu.
"at, tho (luldr. y 'l‘. C. llarbungh.
~191de ii ' Jam 1.. Bowen.
luring Dav , tho «on: Boar-Kill". By ll. St. George.
wood «k M Detective. ily E. L. Whaler.
Black Mood ofthe Prairlea. lly J. 1.. Bowon.
Jievii. By Colonel l'rmrttu lngruham.
ill-Mr. Ry Burton Sue.
118 Jack flay-lo, the Young Speculum. By IL L. Whaler.
11‘ The Black Schooner. lly Roger Stuhnck.
115 The I“ Iii-or. By Gum Waldo Brown.
110 Tho Ila-oar Oaptuia. By Gui. Punti- lamb-2n.
“7 “up”... Dick. By Edward L. Whaler.
no Win M tin Boy Dirtoetivo. By Chariot Motrin.
IIO Hutu. Call. or. 11.. King of the Plain. By J. l. Badgtr.
m The Branded “and. By Frank Dome: t.
I“ Cloaauoa Chip, the Girl Sport. By E.  Wheeler.
1” PM! Hardy, the Run Boy. By Charla Morris.
1.. KIOWI Charley, the Whit. Mustang". By T. C. Harbaogh.
I“ Tippy. the Texan. liy George (:lfllllfli‘i-
l“ BQIIIIII Bill. Minor. By Edward L. Wheeler.
1“ Picayune Pete. By (’harlu Mania.
127 Wild.Pire, the; lion at tho Road. By Frank Damont.
108 The Young Privntcor. By ii. alumni-h.
129 Deadwood Diok‘a Double. By Edward 1-- Wheel».
180 Detective Dick. By ($ann Morrla.
1.1 The Golden "and. By George Waldo Browne.
tail The Hunted Hunter. By Edward 5. min.
183 Bola Bob. the King: of the Bootblncka By E. L. Whulu.
I“ sire In“ Seth. By Oil Co: met.

1“ Captain Paul. By C. Dunning Clark.

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136 nghbn‘wk Klt. BY ’ouph E. [tulip-r Jr.
 1"“. Ilclplo” “and. ll" (‘aptlin Mnynr iiold.
llifl lllullde Hill. lly Edward in White“)?-
ltlil .luduo Lan-h, Jr. "y T. C- "nth-ugh.
1.10 [Hue luuzru, liy Flt-ink Dnmnnl.
I-Il Solid Nam, lilo llny Road-Ararat. By Ed. l. \vi'lrit".
1-12 llnndoomo Hurry. Byt'hnrlon Mania. .
l-"i Sour-FuI-o l‘nlll. ii} (Ill Comm-3.
l-i-i Dniniy Lam-o. the tiny Sport. liy Juan-id. i-Z. ilmiwor, Jr.
1 if» (‘nptnln Ft-rrI-t. Hu- ‘ww Yorlt Drtmtlvn. 1‘) \"l="-'l"-
l-iii Min-r Nor. tin,- llo} Knight. ii) (iii t‘mnm-I.
 ‘T ill  iitiiil'c, tho 'l'livilmiglllrrnl, liv t'lmrina \lurril.
ll.“ himrp Knnt. llv J. Airmtlult-r l‘JIti-vu.
ill” 1‘ Gill“? 0i, “trill. ii} l‘l-lwnlrl L. H hm-lrr.
1.50 Lnlwo und Lon-o. Hy Human l"rmi-tri- it WlliimkI-r.
15! i’nntiIt-r l'unl. ilw l'mirin l'lmtu. ltv  irr. limignr, Jr.
I52 ltlacl. Dona. \Vill Wlivllirr‘r llm v-r. liy t'hnrivu lioxria.
153 Eule Kit. ihu liviy llvumn.
It» i The Nu‘urd Iinutoru. It: 4 it‘ll. l-‘u-dm. l. Whittaker.
it'll) “Illdi 'i‘l‘iflu‘t'l‘. UH Spuri. Ii". 'l'. (I. iiilllllllL’ll.
1.36 Dr-udwood Dir-i. o Deadwood. “\ if. 1.. Win-rim.
L37 ,‘iILt' Merry. thr limit-J Pull. .- liuy, ii\' ('llnrlua Murrw.
lfnfi l’mwy Frunl. oi' (‘olor-ndo. Iii ltnil‘nm lull.
159 Thu Lott l‘upiuitl. ii (hiplliui l-‘wdnrirli \\ lllltuiu-r.
160 The Dim-l. (Hunt. lly J"‘~I‘I'l| ll. ILuIm-r. .ir.
liil New York Neil.  Edward L. Wileriur. I
“l” “'iil “'iitiill‘t‘ in “It! \l'ooda. ily i‘hnrloa Morria,
iilil Little Texan, tho Young Hmtangrr. liy Oil Cnmnol.
iii-l Dandy itot-k'a fluke. liy unargu Wnldu ltruwno.
It”) lliliy Homage, ihn Raiirnnd “my.
ltitl Hickory Hurry. liy linrry St. “cork”.
16? Ann Scott. the Steamhnut liny. liy l-Idwnrd “'illotl.
lilri Deadly Dun-la. By Joseph E. ill-rigor, Jr.
ltiil Tornado Tom. lly ’l‘. t‘. linrimugh.
1?0 A Trump Curd. liv mlll’ll'rl liorril.
lTI Ebony Dun. liy Frnnlt Dom-ml.
172 Thunderbolt Tom. liy Hurry St. George.
178 Dandy Rock'a Riyal. lly George Waldo Browne.
1?} Bob Rookett. the Hay Dodger. lly (‘hnrlen Morrla.

76 (‘optnln Arizona. By Philip S. Wilma.
176 The Boy Runaway. By Lientcrmni it. D. Prrry, USN.
1?? Hobby Niel. of‘Nt-vudn. lty Edward L. Wiloulur.
171% (Nd Military, tho ll.~rrnlt Tmrprf. Ry Oil (‘oomra
lfli Bob Roche". ihu lirmlt Runnnr. By ('harloa Morria.
180 Tim lion Trailer. liy Lieutunnnt ii. i). l’vrry, USN.
I?” ‘i’ilti Frank oi'Montunn. li)‘ Edward L. \Vhoulor.
ll-i2 Little Ilurrit-nno. th‘ ih-y i‘nptnin. liy oil Coomol-
lflii The Hidden Ilrmd. lly i’hnrh-s Harris.
184 Tin- iloy 'i‘rullt-rn. By Joseph E. “rigor, Jr.
1st. Evil Eye. King or ill. Cattle Thiuvn. liy l‘rnnk Dnmont.
186 Cool Donmoml. ily (‘ulunol Mlle Sam.
1x7 Fred llnlyurd, the Life limit Boy. By Chub-a Morris.
1H8 Ned Temple. tho Border iloy. lly T. C. liarlvnnxh.
189 Bob Roche“, the Crnrkmmn. By (‘bnriea hiorria.
190 Dandy Burke. l'iy “'iiiinin R. Eyltcr.
I91 lluifnlo Billy, the Boy Bniiwhat-ker. By Capt. A. B. Taylor.
192 Onptnin Kit, tho “'i l o‘»tlw-Wi.~p. liy Limit. Parry.
Hill The Lady Bond-Agent. By Philip S. Wamo.
Iii-i Bunlo nili‘l not. fly (‘nptain Taylor.
195 Deadwood Dir-lt'a Dream. ily Ellwfll’ll I. Win-oi".
lilti fihudowod. il_v Climb-n )iurrir.
197 Little Grit. the Wild Rider. lly Col. Pnntlu inmham.
I98 Arkonaaw. th» Man with tho Knife. By 1‘. (‘2 llarbangh.
‘99 Featherweight. il_\' Edward “'lliett.
900 The Boy Bedoulna. ily ('npt. Fredcriflt Whittaker.
201 The Black llilla Jezebel. lly Edward L. “‘heulur.
.0” PPMWQ Pete. of tho Flay lirigado. lly Oil room".
208 The lloy l’lrda. lly .lnacph l'l. Bridger. Jr.
904 Gold Plume. the Boy Bandit. iiy Col. Prontina lug-"ham.
205 Deadwood Dick’a Doom. By Edward L. Wheeler.
906 Dark Poul. tho Tiger King. By Chariot Morris. .
20? Navado Nick, tho Buy Gold lluntar. lty T. C. llarhaugh.
208 The Boy Ilorcuioa. By Oil Coomen.
509 Prita, tho Bound-Boy Dob-flint. Ry Edward L. Whrolar.
Rio Fat-o Frank of High Pine. By “'iiilnm R. Ryatar.
an Crooked onle.‘ lty 1m”. 1-:. thaw, Jr.
Rig nil-Di" Dave. the Dandy Dem-tire. liy Charlo- Morrla.
318 Fritz to the Front. By l-idwnrd L. \Vhw‘or.
214 Wolfgang, the Robher of the Rhino. liy Capt. Whittaker.
315 Captain Bullet, the Baltic! King. By 'I‘. C. llarbaugh.
RIG Rim Bill. “to Princa at tho Rrina. By (10]. l’. inth-
91? Captain Crack-Shot. By Edward l. “'ltm-lur.
BIS Tiler Torn. the Tuan Terror. By Oll Comma.
219 Deapord. the Duoliat. By Philip 3. Warm.
no Torn Tanner. Sahara: and Scapograra. By Chan. MO?!“-
23! Hagar-Coated 8am. ny Edward L. Whui".
222 Grit. the Bravo Sport. By Col Prantlu inn-alum.
998 Olurit Alf. King ohho Mountain. By Edward Willa“-
BB-i» Dot-hing Dick. By Oil Co-mu.
295 Ram Charcoal. the Premium Duly. By Charla Manic.
226 i-inoozor, the Ray Sharp. By Edward L. Wind".
.9? “link! Darrell. Trapper. By ll Emu-an.
928 Links “'ildilrc. By Oil Coonm.
999 (‘rillaoll Kate. By Colonel Prentiu lngraham.
880 The Yankee Rajah. lly C. Dunninr Clark.
281 l’luvky Phil. of the Mountain Trail. By T. C. Hull-ugh.
989 Gold-Dual. Dir-k. By Edward L. Whoalnr.
288 Joe flock of Angola. By Alhort W. Aiken.
284 Old Rocky’l “ Boyeea.” By Butlultin Ram.
385 Shallow Salli. the Muuennr Boy. By Chariol Morris.
986 Apollo Bill. By Edward L. thior.
28? Lone Star. the Cowboy Captain. .By Col. Inmham.
23" Th9 Par-on Detective. By Oil Comma.
$89 The Goldcaeeker Guide. By Captain May-m Raid.
840 Cyclone Kit. By Edward L. Whoolor.

ll} (ill i‘i-mnN.

My ('harira .\inrrla.

 

MI in“ nl‘nvo and Ilia lira? Pol-(la. lly T. C. llurhaugh.
2-1. The Two “ lllooda.” iiy (Thorlu Norm.

848 The Dioguiaod Guide. 14y ("l (ovum.

ll»! Him-r», Nam. liy Edward L. Wliqclur.

W) Morlt‘. the Middy. liy ('uiuml l’rantiln inurullum.
“48 (Giant Goon-go. My liurkukiu Stun.

5"? (lid i-‘rillly and Ilia Pot-n. liy Fart. “ iiruln" Adnmn.
24,4 paler"; Ham‘a Ht'i‘l‘t‘l. ii} l'lil\\‘.tl‘i l .Whrrlrv.

949 “"0 Runner, thr- Animnl king. li_\ Clllli. Fr-ui. “'hlttah‘r.
950 Tina Midahipmun \iuiinm-r. My i‘ul. l‘. lngmliam.
26' Light-houvw Life. My ('nptuin .l. I“. C. Mlnum.

2.52 Dick Donnth uy. lly Clmrlu Muffin.

2!)“ flierrn flum‘a I'm-d. liy Edwnrd i.. “flu-river.

25-8 The llulf~lllood. ii_\' l-deuni  Elm.

256 (‘uptuin Apollo. My 1'. ('. Hurlmnuh.

’15“ Your": Kc-ntur-k. li_\' Captain Mink “'iliou.

2h? The Loat "lantern. lly t‘npi. .l. l". (‘. Adnnia.

unfit Nierru Hum”. Hon-n. By Edward l.. Win-tier.

2.50 The (iolclon Harpoon. Hy Ruizrr Martina.

260 Doro-Dov" Darn. it). (in ('mmm.

eat. I’m-gn- Four-naught. ii_\' thmrgr 1.. Aiken.

262 The You": Hit-nil“. By (‘liarlua Marvin.

“till Deadwood Dick‘s Dh idt’. Hy Edward L. Whaler.
mm Tin- P‘loutilux Feather-.4 Hy Col. 1'. luxruhnm.

366 The Tiger ’l‘ulm-r. lly (‘aptnln Fwd. Whittaker.

i266 Killh'ar. the Guide. By l-ln-ign Warrnn.

Ml? The llut-L-kln Don‘t-tire. By‘l‘. (‘. Hurhaugh.

“till Dead“ ood Dit-L’a Dt-nth 'l‘rull. Hy E. L. Wheel".
flag The Gold till“). it; t‘ul. Prrntiu lngrnham.

“To Blizzard "on. My Captain Mark “'ilivn.

271 The Ilugo Hunter. “3' Edward 5- Bill--

979 Mink-Lin Mlkr. ' Iiy ()ll (\mtnoa.

278 Jumbo Joe. ily Edward l. wlmlor.

974 Jolly Jim. liy (.‘harlra Morria

275 Ari-ona Jot-It. By Huck-kin Slim.

976 Merle Monte'o Cruise. Hy Colonel Pranllaa lngraham.
2" nelvol' Doll. By Edward L. “'hoclar.

978 The Tin-co Trappen. By .‘ll‘lu’ Lowia w. Canon.
279 Did “'im'la, the Rlllo King. By T. C. liarbnuxh.

2H0 Merle Monti"- Fate. By Col. I‘rcntlu lngraham.
2&1 Denver Doll's Victory. By Edward 1.. “'hnlar.

232 The Typo Deter-live. lly Edward Willa“.

2’“! Indian Joe. By Majur Lewi- W. Canon.

284 The Hon Mun-under. By (‘ulonol Prtntiu Ingralmm.
235 Denver Doll'a Decoy. By Edward L. Whaler.

2H6 Joni), tile Boy Tender-foot. Hy (‘npt Man: Wilton.
28? Billy Blue-By“. liy Colonel l’ronllu lnzruham.
288 The Scalp King. By Captain J. F. C. Adamo.
289 Jolly Jim‘a Job. lly (‘imriu Mont;

290 Little Foxfire. liy UH (‘oomem

291 'l‘urlt. tho Ferrel. lly Edward L. “'hrolor.
292 Hunt-ho Pedro. liy Mnjnr F. L. St. \‘ruin.

398 Red Claw, tlm Ono-i5} od Trnppnr. By CaptainComatOck.
25M Dynamite Dan. By 1'. C. liartmugh.

295 Fearloaa l‘hil. By Edward “'illali.

296 Denver Doll‘a Drill. lly Edward L. \i’liprlfl.

99? The Tarnntolu of Tnoa. By Buck-kin Sum.

898 Tile Water-Hound. By Charla “null.

999 A No. l, the Doailing 'l'nil-Tltlter. lly Edward L. Whuiar.
800 The fiky Demon. lly ()ll Comics

801 Lvudviilo Nit ' liy Major K. L. St. \’rain.

80! The Mountain "elective. By T. C. Hurt-ugh.

808 ’Liln Jnne, tha Girl Minor. By I. L. Whoolor.

304 Tim Dead shot Dgndy. By Colonel Malian lnliahnm
805 Duhnway. oi‘ Dakota. By Ctr-"ir- Martin.

806 Nook-Tie Ned. By Major II. B. Stoddard.

807 The Mango Paul. 3! WWI“! 3m-

808 Kong Kit. tho lloy Bnglor‘a I'ard. lly Col. 1". ingraham.
809 lleadwood Divin'I "'8 bell- 3)‘ E. L. Whuior.
810 The Rana-ea Wolf. 33‘ Ji‘flph l1. Badgar, Jr.

all The Raving 5’0“. By Edward “'illott.

3]. Red“, auto, tho Vigilante Prince. By Maj. E. L. St. \‘mi 1.
818 (‘imarron Jack. B! Fnderirlt Dewey.

Bit The Inuit-ion- Intruder. By Col. P. tun-ham.
315 Ned. tho Collin lloy. By Jaalt Farr-lot.

816 Old Krill)”, Trump Card of Aria-ma. By T. C. llarbaugh.
817 Peacock Polo. liy Llantrnant Alina Thar-no.

out Ker-whoop. Kor-whool lly Buchahin Barn.

819 The Black Rldor. By Jouph E Badgerflr.

890 The Hen Son-ere». By Jack Flu-rant

Ml Deadwood illult'a Donn. By Ilium 1. Winter.
809 Noam. the Detectivo. By Edward Will-u.

808 Arkanaaw Jar-it. By Harry Hand.

8'4 Ralph may. the Hotel My Dctntln. a, t a. Mom.

3” Roll . o. f Lil _
"y dust" Io l‘ ulclphla

896 The Tea Paula; or, The Tom! ammo... B, 'r. c.
iiarbauxh. -

all? Creeping Cat. the Calida. By Bochlin Sam.

398 The Sky DetoetiVoa. lly lint-v Hickey Fm.

839 Red-filth: Torn. By Harry Hmrd.

880 Little Quick-Shot. I! 34""! In Who-l».

881 Black Nick, tho Damon thler- By Capt Frad. Whittaker.
883 Frio Fred. By Burl-kin Sun.

388 rim-tone Bo and llla l.l htn rc
l’etio. liy Mn... :. 1.. m. Vraiu. 3 'u “'"° 0"“

884 Kangaroo Kit; on'l‘lva Myltoriou- Minor. By I. 1.. Wheeler.
885 Old Double-Flat. By Jouph E. Badgor, Jr.
“3 Bit Ballot By T. (I. liarbanglt.

A New ladue Every Week.

Tire Half-Dilut- Library in for Iala by an nowadoalau. an
canto par copy, or uni by mnl.‘ on receipt oialx coats oath.

BEADLE AND ADAMS. Palm-hora,
98 “Milan Street. New York

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