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Entered at the Post omce at {Jew York.§._Y.. at Second Clasegnjl Rates. Copyright. 1885. by 13an AND ADAMS. September 22. 1685. I
$2.50 PUBLISHED \VEEKLY DY BEADLE AND ADAMS Price.

VOL  a- Year- No. 98 WILLIAM STREET. NEW YORK. , «5 Gents. NO'  6‘

 

 

 

 

 
     

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7” “7;; THE REGGAE-BUY DETECTIVE;

“"7311:1 /

The Blind Man’s Vengeance.

BY E. L. WHEELER.

AUTHOR or“nunwooo ntcx" nouns, “men-
303 " NOVELS, “0., me.

 

CHAPTER I.

A 8016")! xmnnnumn.

Swan-r!

And such a sunset. too-

The western horizon was fringed with pines. all
half of the sun'l face was dipped behind this [he or
somber green-

The sun itself was a hall of fiery red, such I: only
can be seen in the season of a drouth.

The reflecyxon of the rays [it u the Western
heaven! 1111141113. end touching uth ritual W
clouds, rem! ed one of the light of I. burning
'32“ “seagheuzfi'é’w °:.- “‘32.” “a o... ..

nea e o t o lo! lul- I
glue Gnu

//

   

.“ MY A 00!” 8AM REPLIED SAUCILY. “ IF YOU’RE Gom’ um BROWN ymnu, 1’): the most beauteoui when in the
GOIN’ TO SEE THE FUN. 80 Go on wx’ mm FUNERAL.” flanked by two pine-crowned nap-offlin-

 

 

The valley was many miles in length, fertile, and
well populated. Agriculture was an art, almost,
here, and everywhere were unmistakable evidences
‘of thrift and prosperity.

Through the va icy, in a zig-zag course. ran a high-
way, bordered with well-kept icm-c, out on either
side of this thoroughfare, were large iields of ripen-
ing grain, tasseling corn, and billowy meadows;
then, too, there were statel farmhouses—those
famous New York State farm- ouses, after which so
many Southern homes take pattern, so white and
neat, with their many wings and gables, porches
and green blinds—and col .a'ms, out-buildings, gi-
gantic barns, granaries, and so forth.

But it is not of these we Would write.

As the road Wound in its serpentine course,
through this smiling vale of Nature, it bordernda
little lake, on its right, looking West—or, perhaps
we should say, a pond, for the sheet of water did
not cover more than a con he of hundred acres.

It was surrounded by s oping grassy banks and
but for one thing, was a remarkably pretty little
lakelet.

It was the dark odor of the water that gave it an
ominous appearahou

The water was almost black, to look at, and yet
it was not of a sluggish or stagnant nature, for the
beach was hard and pebbly, and there wore n0
water-weeds to be found anywhere along the shores.

Even the gliuting rays of thed rting sun did not
serve to dispel the somber appear nee of the, water,
as a brisk breeze pushed the tiny wavos with a inu-
sical ripple against the emerald tinted border.

This was known as the Dark Pond, and for genera-
tions it had borne teat name.

The oldest inhabitantspi’ the locality aver-red that
there was a legend connected with the pond, which
ran something as follows:

Once upon a time a tribe of Indians had dwelt
upon the eastern borders of the pun], and had sub-
sistod chicin upon the fish, with which it was then
plentifully supplied.

In these days of their eaee, a white man, accom-
panied by a eautifnl aughtor, had settled upon
the western shore, and set to work to “clear ” him-
self a farm.

The Indians and the pale-face became fri ‘nds, and
the braves lent a helping hand toward building the
new-comer a cabin.

So charming was the settler’s daughter, that the
stalwart young braves grow to fairly worship her,
and many were the pres nts, in the wafyv of game,
an i trophies, that found their way to sett er Baker’s
ca‘iin.

The most ardent of these copper-colored enthusi-
gsfs, was old chicf Scsquemona, and his son, Light-

oot.

The old chief had no less than four squaws, but he
felt that Ruth Baker would be a decided ornament
to his home.

Lightfoot also loved her, in his humble way, and
as a result, father and son quarreled, and Lightfoot
was banished from the tribe.

After Li htfoot‘s departure, the old chieftain pro-
osed to nth, and of course, was rejected. He
hen asked Mr. Baker for his daughter, and was re-

fused.
In the dead of one night, shortly afterward he
 his braves made a escent upon the sett er’s
ca in.

Baker was killed, and Ruth captured, and with
her a prisoner, old Sesquemona started across the
pond, in a canoe.

He was not far out upon the water, when another
canoe shot out from the shore.

It was Lightfoot in pursuit.

Being young and strong, he gained rapidly on hh

rent.
hWhen near enough, he manned his bow, and sent
an arrow whizzing through the moonlight.

Instead of striking Sesquemona, it pierced the
brain of Ruth Baker.

Furious with combined grief and anger. Lightfoot
drew his bow once more, and sent an arrow quiver-
in0 through the bod of his parent.

fie then lunged rom the canoe into the crystal
waters of he pond, never to rise again.

From that time forward the waters were dark and
ominous in appearance.

The last rays of sunlight were lingering upon the
Dark Pond, when a oun man dashed down the
country highway, on orse ack, and drew r in at a
point where the water approached the road the
nearest.

Dismounting, he tied his horse to the fence, and
thlen vaulted over, and walked down to the water’s
, e ge.

Here he stood, for several minutes, gazing into the
dark depths before him.

He was a trim-built young man of about twenty
and dressed in a manner that indicated wealth, for
he wore diamonds and gold 'owelry.

His face was handsome, t ough the whiteness of
his skin gave him rather an effeminate appearance,

His eyes were blue. his hair of the blonde t 9,
and his teeth as white as the whitest pearls. 0
also 3 rted a neat little flaxen mustache, that was
most Incoming.

All in all, he was a person whose appearance
would im ress favorably.

For ful y five minutes he stood u on the grassy
border, as if endeavorin to pene rate the dark
water before him with his een aze.

There was a wild. unnatural ook in his eyes,—a
pained, sorr0wful expression upon his forehead.

That he was troubled about something was plainly

ovident.
Not until the nearly last rays of sunlight had dis-
_Ippeared from too surface of Dark Pond did the

  
 

 

"4 :l'

 

   

 

Sam Slabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective.

 

 

 

young man lift his gaze from the water and look
toward the opposite side, when a prett little cot-
ta‘ze stood only a few feet from t e water’s
ehge.

"Aiil Dolly Denning, you know but little what
fate you have driven me tot" he cried aloud, clinch-
ing his hand and raising it on high. “Ohl Dolly!
Dolly! how could you be so cruvl, when you knew
how passionately and devotedly I loved you 1”

Then he cayercd his eyes with his hands, and a
tremor passed over him, caused by the intensity of
his emotion.

“Ohl God, why was I ever born?“ he went on
on, “to sufl’er this torture—why, why was I ever
born? I cannot live and See Dolly my own father's
wife—no! no! no.’ I‘ll carry out my original plan,
that brought me here. I will put an end to my
misery, and when Frank Jamison‘s lifeless body is
found floating in Dark Pond-4km, perhaps, Dolly
will know how much I loved her.

“ It is best I should do this. The Bible, commands
us not to commit murder, but I can’t help that. I
could not live and know that Dolly was father’s
wife—no. neverl if I were to live, I would go crazy
—I would kill them both, perhaps. Dad, I can
harm no one, and they can live together, in peace
and plenty, when I am forgotten.

“But. wh stand here, like a driveling fool? I
know what ‘ve got to do, and I will do it. I am not
afraid to die. I’vo led a good life, so far, and death
has no terrors for me i”

It was evident that Frank Jamison had nerve,
and that he had fixed purpose.

He took ofi’ his coat, resolutely, and examined the
contents of the pockets.

He laid the coat on the grass, took oiT his vest and
disposed of it in the same manner, and then sat
down and took off his shoes.

Rising, he raised his ey. s heavenwar 1, where the
sun still reflected myriads of colors; he uttr red a
silent raycr; then, with a firm st'p, he strode
down t e grassy slope toward the, water.

That he would have plunged recklessly into the
dark, sullen pond, seemed evident, had not some-
thing arreste'l his attention.

The something was a Voice, that uttered the sug-
gestive inquiry:

“Say, llllStt‘l‘, where d’yer think 3 ou’ll be, when
yer get thar?"

The effect of the words up. n Frank Jamison, were
electrical,

He wheeled about, with an exclamation, some-
what vein-d, and considerably scared.

The object that his gaze rested upon was truly a
refreshing one, for that locality.

Seated upon the top board of the fence, near to
where the horse was tied, was a boy of perhaps
fifteen or sixteen years of age. In higlit he had
nearly attained the average of manhood, but so
thin and lank was he that he appeared taller than
he really was.

In face he was not exactly homely, nor was he by
anfi means handsome.

is features were clearly-cut, his eves brown and
keen, and his hair of a like color, while there linger-
ed about the corners of his larged-sized month an
exlpresslon of humor and good-nature.

is attire consisted of but three articles, namely,
an old felt hat, a calico shirt, and a pair of pants
much too large forhim.

“Hal who are you!" young Jamison sharply de-

manded.

“ Who am I?" echoed the boy with a grin.
“Why, I’m Samuel Slabsides, mem er of Congress.
Who are you ?"

“Nonsense! What areyoudoin around here?”

“ Ohl I’m jest takin’ a rest, w ile the old man’s
restin’, an' see 11‘ you here, I tho‘t I‘d see how the
thing works, as I mi ht want to try me hand at it.
myself, one of these i. ays.”

“ what do you mean sir?"

“ Why susanside—susanside, 0' course! Never
see’d no one do that act, an’ at struck me as how et
would be wu‘th lookin‘ at. But. I say, mister how
, an’ shoes? Ef ye‘r’ goin’ to s uflle
oi! this mort coil yer won’t have no more use for
'em, nohow. an' yer might give ‘em ter me. I'm a
lone orphint, without any relashe. an’tho‘ I ain’t
stuck on me she ,I’ll bet a billion I‘d look jest
x-i einthem clot es. Ef ye‘r’ goin‘ ter creek, 9
m lit as well leave ther trowsers behind too, er
it’s a pi or break ther suit!"

“You I not get the clothes!" Frank Jamison de-
clared angrily. “Get off that fence and go along
about your business, or I’ll—”

:‘ Yiliu‘ill what?” b hm I”

‘ 1’ ve you a great t ras g

“Holghol Willyou?"

“Yes, I will!”

“ Bet you on that! Bet I can skip all around you,
without yer ketchin’ me, jest like a lively flea. Oh!
I’m a reg‘lar daisy-bendrr you bet!"

“ Confound you, get off that fence, and go along
about your business,I say!” Frank cried, growing
exasperated.

“Nary a go!" Sam re lied saucily. “If ou‘re
goin’ ter drown yerself. ’m goin’ to see the un, so
go on wl’, the funeral. Wade right in and I‘ll see
that yer shoes an’ togs is well taken care of."

Frank Jamison glared at his outhful tormentor a
minute,“ if he could annih ate him; then with
some unintelligible exclamation, he sat down upon
the grass, and began to ut on his shoes.

“Hillo!” ejaculated am with awhistle of sur-
prise. “Changed yer mind. ev er? Ain’t goin’ ter
commit snsanside jest because olly—Dolly—Dolly
is goin‘ ter marry yer old man? how, that 3 what I
call good. every-da hoss sense. Tber idear of a
feller kerflummiga in', just ’cause a gal goes back
on him, ain't ’cordin‘ ter scripter, ner Queensburyl

‘bout them to

 

Jewhitt-akerl I bet Dc . ,7 would lafl her socks 03 of
she knew "bout what. yer was goin' terdo!"

Frank Jamison finisned putting on his shoes, arose,
and donned his Coat and vest.

“ See here, boy!" he cried, turnin on Sam Slabo
sides, half-fiercely. “I s’pose youfil go blab this
matter to the first person you meet?"

“Dunno 'bout that, boss. Hain‘t much on the
tattle, I ain‘t, but I would like terftell Dolly, est
fer ter see her lafl. I do jest like fer hcer a gal aft,
Et puts me in mind of an Irish bagpipe playin' the
big iland fling."

“ If you ever mention a word of this to her I‘ll
murder you!" Jamison declared. passionately.

“You would, hey? Now, Jamey, old stockin‘,
you don’t know rue—that’s pat. When or try to
skeer Sammy Slabsides out nv a years growth,
that's 'est where yer make a mistake. I wasn’t
fetche up in Philamydelpl.y, ter be skeered by a
coun jack-lantern, nohow. I'm like er Zoologi-
cal ca i-ef ye rub me skin wi’ silk plush or a
feather duster, I‘m jest as docile as a lamb. I'll
even stand beln’ curried with a U. S. greenback.
But when ye cum ter tryin' ter soothe me wi’ a
sharp-toojhed garden-rake. then ferbearance ceases
ter be a Virtue, and I kickl"

“ Then, do I understand that for a money consid-
eration. you will hold your ton e?"

“ Nixeel Couldn’t do that. filly tongue and I aire
solid pals, and I wouldn’t hold ’ini, fer nothin’. Ef
you have got more money than yer don‘t know
what ter do with. yer might slip me a couple 0’
milyun, an’ I won't say nothin' ‘bout yer ’temptin’
susanside tho’.”

“If you will promise not to say anything about
this matter, I’ll give you ten dollars.”

“ Ten ?"

‘. Yes"?

“ Phewl But, you’re, a liberal snoozir! Now, do
I resemble a ten dollar cigar-store Pompey? Do you
see anything about the cut of my jib that reminds
“on of a ten—dollar clothing Store dummy? Do I
ook as if ten dollars and I had allus bin strangers?
Waal, mebbe I do. Hard times and adversity levels
thcr mightiest, Felix sez. But, howsumever, not-
withstanding. e make er colossal mistake when yer
think I‘d deprive myself uv red-ripe fun, jest fer a
ten -dollar note i“

“ Confound it, what do you want. then f"

“The earth, and a tliousan’ shares 0‘ preferred
stock in the atmosphere!”

“'You'll get it, too!” young Jamison gritted,
springing over the fence. “ I‘ll ride down to R—-.
and send a constable after you, to arrest you for
va rancy.”

‘ All right.
over at Dolly‘s!
be so cruel?"

And then the 'oung vagabond burst into a merry
lau b, that fair infuriated the would be suicide.

e untied and, mounted his horse, with nervous
iigility, and spurred away down the road, in mad
iaste.

While Sammy Slabsides gazed after him, his lips
puckered u , as if he wanted to whistle.

" Well, 1’ I be hugged ef that teller ain’t as cranky
as ye find ’em." he soliloquized. “ He must hev the
love complaint fearful. or else he’s off his base.
Wonder of he would really hev tried to drown him-
self, ef I hadn’t come along? Kinder reckon he
would, fer he ’peared dead in earnest. An’his name
is Frank Jamison, an' he's in love wi’ Dolly. an’ 50’s
his old man, an‘ it ’pears the old man is rather get-
tin‘ the best 0’ the race—scoopin’ the swee takes!"

Here the boy glanced toward the west. w ere dark
banks of clouds were rolling up, and then sprung
down from the fence.

“Goin’ to be a thunder-storm," he commented
“ and a hard one too. Guess I better go rouse old
Felix, an’ to lookin’ up some place fer shelter. The
old man ain‘t so stron as when we started out on
the tramp, an’ et won t do him no good ter get wet.
Pbew, but a good rain would do heaps of good ter
my complexion l"

And many a farmer, that evenln . looked at the
banks of clouds in the West, and ac oed his words
less the complexion.

The ground was bed. and vegetation was
fairly burning up, for want of rain.

None had fallen, for weeks and all nature seemed
more or less affected by the drouth.

—__.

CHAPTER II.
A STRONG assnn'rros.

HALF a. mile down the valley, from the Dark Pond,
and ironting upon the highway, was a handsome
and cost] residence, of modern construction,

It was uilt upon a slopin shrub-dotted lawn,
which was, in turn, surroun ed by a pretty iron
fence.

Everything about the place betrayed Wealth and
an erior taste.

he'dwelling, the stone carriage barn and other
outbuildings, were of tasty design; the grounds with
their walks, drives, beds of exotic flowers. and
shrubbery, all showed the care of an experienced
gardener. ‘

This was the home of Judge Lennox Jamison,
and the new residence had only recently supersed-
ed an old mansion that had occupied the site.

Judge Jamison had been for a number of years.
the judge of the supreme Court of the circuit where
he resided, and in addition to owning “Larch-
mont," his handsome and extensive countriy es-
tate. was re uted to be worth somewhere nthe
neighborho of half a million of money. -

He was a widower. having only one child, an at-
tractive girl, now nearing her majority.

When he comes for me tell him I’ll be
Ohl Dolly! Dollyl how could you

 

 
  

‘ u”??? p ‘h ‘ {ii  9' ‘ in? ‘4‘ r h 7 ‘l'Hi'véfl'i'l-T‘ ii if”: i ‘ M1 \“ I M.  1 I T '1‘" "I " r "‘k if i I l ‘b  V .
Sam Slab sides, the Beggar-B oy Detective. 3

 

 

 

FIis home, howvver, was also the home of two
adopted sons, who answered to the names of Frank
and Ralph Jamison.

l‘hey were twin brothers, and had been adopted
by the late. Mrs. Jamison, when tin-y were infants,
at which time their parents had b en killed by a
railroad accident.

Judge Jamison had not always been rich.
-t was only within the latter few years that he had
'unasscd his wealth, cleared off the tax: 5 and mort-
gages on his estate, and built the sumptuous home he
now occupied.

I
t
i

Indeed, '

That he had acquired his wealth through being a ,

judge of the Supreme i'ourt was not probable. for
the salary was not large; hence it wasa niattcrof
conjecture how he got his inone ', in so brief a time.

Some av rrcd that lie galnb ed in stocks; but, if
so, he did it in such a quiet manner that no one at
home could prove anything of the sort.

Mrs. Jamison had died fifteen years before, and
«shortly after her dcccase, Jamison had placed the
children at school, and gone West.

He was absent about a year, and when he return-
ed he was said to be as poor as when he went away.

Somehow, he had managed to get into politics,
however, had studied law. and finally made rapid
strides, until he became judge.

It was not until long after this, that prosperity
seemed to smile on him.

About three hours before the meeting of Frank
Jamison and the young tramp, Sam Slabsidcs, upon
'the shore of Dark Pond, Judgo Jamison sat by a
window, in his elegantly furnished parlor, looking
out upon the lawn.

He was a large, massively lniilt man, of imposing
and state] appearance. His head, a trifle bald,
was well .' ewlopcd. and his face full and round,
with large gray eyes, whose natural expression was
rather cold and. stern.

His hair was fr: )Stl‘d with white, and his Well—trini-
mrd mustache was the some.

IIis dress was suggestive of quiet bntparticular
“file. and he wore a costly diamond ring and pin.

Th, re was a look of displeasure upon his face, as
he gazed from the window, upon the lawn.

“ it is too aggravating to bear with any longer!”
he said, aloud, “ and we may as Well come to an un-
derstanding. at once. I have formed my resolution,
.and it shall not: be broken.”

He touched a call-bell, near at hand, and a few
minutes later, a negro boy. in livery, entered the
room.

“Julius, is Master Frank about the house?" the
“mine asked, without diverting his attention from the

luv".

“ Y('S, sah. He is out at the stable, sah.“

“Clo toll liilil, then, that I want him. Where is
Ralph?"

" Gone to the city, sah l”

“Ah! Julius, did he come in late last night?"

“ After two, ssh."

“Had he been drinking?”

“’Dced, I don‘t know, sah.
,brefi"

“ That will do. Go tell Frank to come here."

The servant nodded, and took his dc arture.

In the course of five minutes Fran Jamison en-
'teredthe room. ‘

"Did you want me. sir?" he inquired, pausing near
7the judge hat in band.

“Yes. want you,” was the reply. “I have
‘hea1rdwthat you were at: Ivy Cottage again last
big it.

“ Yes, sir, I was 1" Frank assented, flushing
slightly.

“Ah! then the report was true. I believe it was
less than a week ago, Frank. that I hinted to you
that on could please me best, by keeping away
from vy Cottago—-was it_ not?" .

.“I believe you did hint something of the sort,

r

I didn't smell him

. “ And yet, knowing this, you went there in oppo.
.mtion to my wishes.”

Frank's cheeks flushed still rosier, and his eyes
sparkled with spirit.

“I have always been an obedient son I believe,"
The said; “even more so than Ralph. 'But, now I
have arrived at an age, when I consider it a matter
within my own Jurisdiction, where I go, and with
whom I associate."

“Indeed! Sou are carrying your ideas quite too
high. sir. You will remember you are not twenty-
one ct!" ,

“ at I am so near to it, that there's no fun in itl”

“ That matters not. I as good as ordered on to
keep away from Ivy Cottage. and you shou have
heeded me. You areawaro that [have been paying
my addresses to Miss 1)),enning, with a, view of bring-
ing her to Larchmont.

“And you are aware, Sil‘. “gilt Dolly and I have
courted for the last two yea”!

“Bah! boshl you, a. mere chit ofa boy! w}, ’9”,
marriage should be the last of your ambi ions,
W‘l‘ifit  the world have you 80‘? t"Ward supporting
a e

“ A stout heart, a willing mind. and a strong pair
of arms, sir,"

“ Nonensel You’d make a. fine. husband. to drag
a pretty girl down to a, life bordering on pauperism.
For. 01 COUrse, you could not expect me to counte.
nance .VOur marriage, no matter who you might

marr .”

“ Nfil‘ Should I as‘: you. sir. I am thankful for an
{011 have 8Vel' done for me. but you will please bem-
..n mind, that. Since I was fifteen, I have never asked
you for a cent—not one! What money. clothin
and trinkets I have had, have always been tendered
me, thont my asking." _

The indge Winced. for he knew this to be the
mm.

 

Unlike his brother, Frank had grown up rather iii-

, dc )endent.

athcrthan ask for anything he needed, he would
go without it.

“ Oh! well, that's altogether a different matter!"
the judge said, ott-handediy. “No doubt you liko
Dolly, as she is a very charming young girl, but you
see this thing of -our visiting lvy Cottage when she
is really not at iiberty to entertain you, is neither
right nor honorable in you."

" Why hasn‘t she a right to entertain me?" Frank
demanded, hotly.
go there!"

“ in a. formal way, however. Doll is a very con-
siiioritte girl, and she feels compelle to act friendly
toward you, from the fact that on have grown up
together. That your visits to vy Cottage should
cease, however, you must know, when 1 tell you,
sir, that Dolly Dcnning has promised to become my
wife within the month!"

" "7th I“

The announcement appeared to daze young Jami-
son.

“ Just as I say," the elder went on, with a spice of
triumph iii his tone. “She already has the engage-
Illt'IIt-I‘lilg in her possession. So you see that all
hopes of your winning her are futile, and you might
as well take matters coolly and sensibly."

Frank made no reply.

He stood starin vacantly at tho floor, powerless
to express the fee in that roso within him.

“ lon know, Fran '," Judge Jamison continued,
“that I have always planned that you and Jessie
should marry. Of course—“

“ Enough! ' Frank cried with sudden force. "Jes-
sie and I are practically sister and brother, and
could never marry. Dolly Denning loves me,
and I love her. What power you have exercised to
compel her to marry you. 1 know not; but I do
know that she shall never become your wife, sir, if
I have to kill her at the altar, and then kill myself!"

And, wirh those words, the adopted son turned
and left the parlor, leaving the judge in what might
safely be termed, an unenviable frame of mind.

CHAPTER Ill.
THE nivsi'i-zitv or ’i‘lll'l MANSION.

Tm: highway ran along the shore of Dark Pond,
until it reached its southern extremity, whence it
continued on in an irregular cour 9 through the fer-
tile and populous valley, where Wi-re located many
ha py and picturesth homes.

It the, southern extremity of the pond the road
ran around the base 0an bluff of considerable mag-
nitude, that rose precipitously on all of its sides, and
covered an area of about two acres.

It was a singular landmark, rising as it did from
an almost level vallc '-bottoni, and what by no
means detracted from its novelty was the fact that
there was located on top of‘it. fully thirty feet above
the level of the pond or highway, at large, square,
barn-like house. _

It was evidently an “ old timer,” for the aint had
long since become worn off by the attac ’s of the
elements, and there was scarcely a whole p"ne of
glass to be seen in the numerous windows, and sev-
eral of the shutters hung by one hinge.

That the place was untenanted appeared evident.

After leaving the scenebf his interview with
Frank Jamison, Sam Siabsnlcs, the young tramp,
trudge alon thedusty road until he came to the
base 0 the b uff.

Here, seated by the roadside upon a plot of grass,
was an old. gray-haired man.

If up earances went to indicate anything, he had
long snce turned the shady Side 0 sixty, for his
once tall and stately figure was painful! bent, and
:18 grembled as if his nerVes were eniirely shat-

ere .

His beard, like his hair, was lon , white and mat-
ted and covered the greater port on of his face.

IIis eyes he ke 1: fig tlY ClOSed. from which fact it

ecame apparen that he was blind.

at he wore none, and his Clothing was about as
Rigid and scant as that of young Slabsides.

“I am always welcome when I

 

narled sta upon the ground beside him indi-

cali that he was too weak to travel without some
artificial support.

His face had been restinfilin his hands, but as Sam
came 1;; he slightly raised is head.

“ Is at on, my son?" he inquired.

, Finn, it‘s me, of course.

long9"

“Not very long, Sammy. I was dozing. when
some one rode by on horseback, and awakened
me. .

“ Yas; that war ther cove as wer' goin' ter com.
mit susanclde back here a P ece."

“ Hal what say you?“

“I sed it war the feller what we!“ goin‘ ter ker-
mit susnncide back beer on the lake-shore, only I
skeert him out o‘ it, by lettin’ on I wanted ter see
how the racket worked. Jest like sum chumps—
jest ‘cause a feller wants ter pick “P P intern about
Ecilezntiflc matters, they change color an‘ play mu-

5) ‘

“ Who was (fine to commit suicide, Sammy?"

“ 0b! :3. ga' us-ldbkin’ young cha what calls his-
self Frank Jamison. You see, he ell in love with
sum gal. an‘ the gill Elves Frank ,the mitten. 811'
goes in fer Frank’s old man. who I s ect aire a. big-
ger bug than Frank is. An so. Fran its jealous,
an' makes up his mind ter Put an end 0 hisself by
an eternal soak in the POQd- ,When he found I was
sizin' up his racket, tho . an calculatin’ how near
his shoes and cast-off Earments would fit me, he slot
his mad u . mounted his horse and rid off, like e
“‘88?” i’ ibwd (iniznxiriges'ii id 1: t tak

‘ e a a O! n s on see 0 6
his bmfel" old I?

Been awake

 

elix said, slowly. " That is a, ,

ricvous sin before God. Ew-n I, sinned against; a
have been, and for years suffering the tortures o
the damned, would scorn to make an attempt on

my life."

"Yas, but you ain't everybody, Felix. Some fel-
lch gits the love complaint so bad, that they‘re
clean gone off their base. But Colllt'i We can‘t
stay here chinnin', fer there‘s goin’ to to a rain—
storm, an‘ We wanter be ilndin' shelter. Yc know
yer instytution are so frail that, if you wer' ter git
a Soakin‘, yer might kick the bucket."

“No, nol There is no fear of my dying yet—none
whatever. I cannot dio until I have obtaini-d my re-
venge—I cannot die until I have obtained my re-
vengol"

“ Ohl well, we'll jest let the revenge take kccr of
itself for the prcSent, while we look out for shel-
ter." .
“ So be it, my boy—it. shall be as you say. But the
hour of my revenge is not far off. Something tells
me that I am nearing the end of my onrney, and
that the hour to strike is not. far ofl'. ut, lead on,
my boy. You have stuck by old Ft lix Jacobs like
an owli son, and your reward shall come when you;
least expect it."

“There, now, give ’s a rest on that. Fellxl
You know you haven‘t got anything to leavo be.
bind when your claim here. below peters out: so
what's the good 0' yer makin‘ pronihesf

“Wh . yer ain‘t even got er clean shirt to git
plante in, an‘ ( f beggin’ don't pan out no better in
the next few days than it has in the past, we won't
lfiave enutf ni‘oni y ter rent a spade ter dig a grave
or e.

“ ever mind—never mind i" the old man muni-
bled. as he got on his fret. “You‘ve Iii-en a good
boy to me, and you sha‘n’t go unrewarded."

“You‘ll have to be piltin rich urty soon, then,
that’s my say!" Sam (h clared. " or 1’” bet you
can‘t make a showin' of enough cash tor b'y a meal
fera mouse. So I ain‘t goin’ ter take no stock in
inlierilin‘ yer imaginary richrs. 'l‘hat ain’t w‘otl
shook the dust o’ I'hilynicdelpliia off me gnitcrs fer
~nixcel l allns make. ct a point tcr snnmicr iii the
rural drestricks. like all thi- liigli toned Congress-
men, an’ that was my idcer aft rc I run across you.“

“But you Won't leave me, Saniniy—-you won‘t
leave me. until I reach my gourney's end?" the old

'man tremulously (it‘ll‘nlltit‘t .

" Waal, that depends sulhin‘ how fer off that end
may be." the be replied. with a shrug of his shoul-
dch “ When t ier snow begins ter gather under
foiit, I reckon I‘ll be niakln‘ tracks toward the city,
where a fellvr Lin keep warm on the lunch-route,
besides turnin’ in an occasionnl dime at shinin
shoes. But, it will be some time afore winti rl"

" Ay, ayl so it will, and ere that time arrives my
miSSion will be accomplished."

“Gond gracious! I hope so. But. Camel there‘sa
house up this bluff, and by the looks, 1 di n't reckon
any one lives iii it. If not it will make a daisy place
to spend the night." And rasping old Felix by the
arm, Sam assisted him to c inib up a rugged sort of
path that ascended one side of the curious hill.

The clouds had now overcast all of the \\ cstern
horizon and it was rapidly gettingdark.

The thunder rumbled more noisily along the hori-
zon, and zi -zag strmks of lightning began to play
across the ace of the clouds.

When the arrived at the to of the hill, Sam
found that his surmise about 6 old house was
correct.

It was untenanted, and probably had been so for
several months, if not longer; for the grounds were
grown up waist hi h with rank weeds, and the front
double-doors stoo wide open.

A piazza ran entirely around the house. which,
Sam judged, must contain agreat numberof rooms.

At that hour, and with the storm and darkness
coming rapidly on, the place had a desolate and un-
canny appearance, to say the least, and the young
tramp surveyed it with a speculative whistle.

“ Looks like it might be a reg‘lar old shoal-roost.”

ho silent] com merited. " Wonder wh no one don't:
live here Et would make a hosay place, wi' a
little fixin‘."

When they reached the house, 8am bade old Felix
be seated on the piazza, while he made a recon.
noissance. ,

And while he enters the house, let us refer more
particularly to old Jacobi.

He claimed, that several ears before, he had been
attacked b highwaymen n the West, which he was
leaving at be time, the bearer of a fortune accumu-
lated by mining. After robbing him. the chief of
the highwaymen had, in revenge for Jacobl‘s having
killed two of his men, touched the upils of Jacobi'n
e es with vitriol and left him blin and helpless in
t e mountain wilds.

After months of suffering and wander-in , no man.
aged to reach his home in (,onnecticnt, wh ch he had
ten twelve years before to E2 to the mines.

At that time. he had left .hind him a family con-
sistin of a wife, a maiden sister, and two chi dren,
these‘istter a girl of seven, and another aged four

years. ,

As his family kept a little st '9, from which they
deriVed a comfortable living, to did not send an
money home at all until the fifth year, ashis o
wrote that it was not necessary,

At the end of the fifth year, he sent home a sum
of ten thousand dollars, and had it deposited to-hil
credit in the home bank, the deposit being made by
his wife to his credit.

Not long after this, he received tho'inteiligenoo
that his entire family had been an t away by
typhoid fever, and buried In the fa cemetery
his informant being his on! direct roll ve, a 0000
cousin, named Milo Mitche l. ' *

Shocked beyond expression, Jacobi had union .-

 

.1

.2 >"u9F

-?‘.‘fl‘ *1... :

 

 

  

as». ... .. -

 

 

 

o

 

 
 

4 Sam Slabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective.

 

 

liberal check to Mitchr ll on the home bank, ordering
him to erect tombst' iies for the dead, and as the
balance of his money‘ was safe at interest, to allow
it to so remain. r

As the gold excitement was waxing hot at this
time, and having l0 ties to take lliln back East,
Jacobi resolved to remain in the mines indefinitely,
and did so.

At length, at the end of twelve years” absence, all
told, having amassed another fortune of twmty
thousand dollars. he drew it from his western bank
and set out or. horseback for the nearest railroad
station, eastw‘ird bound.

It was whill‘. thus (I: rill/0, that he was attacked by
the highwayincn, and subjected to the terrible indig-
nity t at ion. him his sight and his fortune as well.

A tale fu'l as strange as that awful experience
that had b :falien himself, awaited his home-coming.

He lear'ed that neither his wife nor any of the
famil hid died at the time such news had been sent
him, u" that Milo Mitchell, by altering the check
sent hi) .i, had drawn all of Jacobi’s money from the
bank, and, accompanied by Mrs. Jacobi and her
young estdaughter, had fled to parts unknown.

Re] ort had t that, not man months afterward,
Mrs. Jacobi and her daughter ad been seen with a
strolling band of Gypsies. That was the last ever
seen and heard of her, while nothing was known of
Mitchell‘s whereabouts.

Nancy, Jacobi’s maiden sister. had also disap-
pvared from the home, taking with her the elder
paughter of the unfortunate miner. whom Mrs.

acobi had left behind.

Such was the story the blind beggar had told Sam
Slabsides.

He also averred, that he had had a revelation in a
dream, that it was really Milo Mitchell who led the
highwaymen in the western outrage, and who had
put out his sight and that, if he kept on wandering
about the country. he would eventually find his man,
and the opgortunity to visit vengeance upon him
would be a orded.

But, as yet, that opportunity had not come and
it did not look probable that old Felix would live
long enough to hunt down the scoundrel who had
done him such hideous wrong.

 

When Sam Slabsides entered the spacious hall of
the old mansion, he was surprised to find that it was
carpeted!

To be sure, the carpet was old, dusty, moldy. in

laces,and scattered over with leaves that had drifted
n at the open door; but it was a carpet, all the
same, and extended up the broad staircase.

This surprise, however. only partly paved the way
for others that were to follow.

Turning off from the hall. he entered the parlor.

Here, an ‘0"‘1tion burst from his lips.
Although dust and id were conspicuous every-
where the arlor was grandl furnished with an-

cient, but 9 egant furniture, 3 ctures, rich curtains
and ornaments and asplendi velvet carpet of light
color covered t e floor.

It appeared that whoever had formerly occupied
the house had decamped, leaving nothing behind.

Although the light was somewhat dusky in the
room Sam was able to discern all this. and also saw
two things, not usually included in parlor furnish-

in .

Pending downward, half-way from the ceiling, to
which it was attached with a screw-hook. was a
rope, the lower part being formed in the shape of a
slining noose.

irectly under this there was a large. dark-red
stain upon the carpet, which had been caused, with-
out . doubt, by bloodshed.

Attached to the rope was also a card; upon it was
traced, in bloody letters, the following:

“ John Van Gelder,
Here. Took His Own e.
Beware. And Kee Away From This
Haunted ouse.
I Am Present, Even In Death.
Joan VAN Osman."

“ Ohl ye are. hey?" Sam soliloquized, on reading
the card.

“If riu'r‘s the case, I reckon thet‘s why people
don‘t hang their hats up, an’ sta awhile around
here. Dunno, tho‘, 'bout ghost iznesa. I never
took much stock in such thin .. Maybe it's ’cause
I never see’d one. Hello—Jr/fftZr I"

Little wonder he uttered th sudden exclamation.
for some invisible hand, or somethin that felt like
ahhafiifi, had slapped him a stinging low upon the
c ee

He wheeled completely around, but could not see
a, gig? of human resence.

W chad struc him?

Or, what had struck him? '

This was a puzzling question, which Sam had no
means of answering.

He had been standing in the center of the room,
at the time of receiving the blownwith his back
turned to the door. but it was imposmbie that a man
could have dodged out the door without being de-

- tooled. And yet there was no other source of escape

for the person who had dealt the blow.

“Wei, I‘m darned at that ain‘t funny," Sam
ejaculated, staring helpless] around, and at the
same time feeling of his choc-i. “ I'd jest like to at
a squint at the snoozer that lammed me. Say, he lo!
Where are yer, ye sneak? Come out beer, till I

I also yer up. an‘ Ruin terbaccy juice in yer eye 1”

No answer to is challenge.

“ Kinder looks as if et were a ghost, or something
funny." Sammuttered; “ but if there s any humans
in here I‘m g in‘ to know it."

With this resolve he left the parlor. to make an in-

 

 

Vestigation of the other apartments of the strange
old mansion.

It was growing darker and darker, and he knew
he could not make a tour of all the rooms. before it
would be too dark to see anything; so he hurried
his movements through the lower apartments, and
found that they Were empty. not one of them except
the parlor before described containing any furniture
whatever.

So Sam was about returning through the dark
hall, to the front of the house, when he felt a rush
of air before him, as though some one had hastily
crossed his path.

He made a sudden bound forward, and his out-
stretched hands touched a garment which be con-
cluded was a woman’s dress.

Another bound brought him still nearer, and his
hand grasped a small shoulder, and brought the
owner to a halt.

At the same instant there was a tremendous crash
of thunder a vivid flash of lightning. and a wild,
blood-curdling shriek, that fairly made Sam Slab-
sides’s hair stand up on end.

While the lightnin flash revealed to him that the

rson whose shoul or he grasped was a young and

eauteous maideni

CHAPTER IV.
mm: AND RALPH.

Wii: have said that Ivy Cottage was across the
Dark Pond, from the point where Frank Jamison
attempted suicide, and that the old deserted man-
sion loomed up on the bluff, at the southern ex.
tremity; that the road kept around the base of the
blililff, and wound on in a zigzag course, down the
va ey.

Branching off this highway, half a mile from the
bluff, was a wide lane, which ran up the shore of the
pond, until it reached Iv Cottage, where it widen-
ed, and surrounded the welling where half a bun-
dred stately maple trees bordered either side of the
lane, rendering cool and complete shade, in the sun-
niest weather.

This lane was not a public thoroughfare, but be-
longed with the roperty on the west, to the ivy
Cottage farm, w ich comprised about a hundred
acres of very fertile land.

The shade of the lane. however. was so tempting
that strolling bands of Gypsies fre uently cam ed
therein, for a day or two. durin w ich time t ey
attracted numerous visitors from t e village of 12—,
a mile below—romantic young folk, mainly,who came
to have their fortunes told by Gypsy queen; or, now
and thep, a horse-jockey, who came to get up a
‘ swap.‘

.hese G psies were generally a well-behaved lot
of wandering traders and tinkers, whose usurpation
of the maple lane was never particularly objected
to. by Miss Priscil'a Tan is; ,ot, the ancient maiden
ady who owned Ivy ottage, and the lands at-
tached.

Priscilla could usually make an honest penny, by
sellin milk and other little luxuries to the nomads,
and i there was one thing above another that Pris~
cilia liked to do. it was to capture that honest pen-
ny. and hoard it away for a rainy day.

Next to her mone . she proba ly doted upon her
niece. Miss Dolly enning, who was not only the
hello and the beauty of that section of the country,
but was Prisciiia‘s prospective heir.

This fact alone, was enough to draw her Plenty of
suitors. let alone her beauty. education: accom-
plishments, and charming manners; for, besides
owning Ivy farm, clear, Priscilla was believed to have
quite a number of thousand dollars stowed away.

She had bought ivy Cottage farm a. number of
years before our story opens, and b iludicious man-
agement, had got every cent out o t that was ob-
tainable, without running it down.

Ivy Cottage was a pretty structure of modern de-
sign and conveniences, and its particos were overrun
w th flowering ivy and climbin roses, while white
beds of flowers lent an additions charm to the lace.

The day that ushers in our story found a 1.i'ps
camp of considerable magnitude located in up 6
Lane, for not only did the tribe have 8- 8001130! 8‘00d
wagons, but their horses were of fine stock, and in
exeellent condition, and the nomads themselves
were better dressed and more intelligent-appearing
than the general run of their race.

There were tWenty families, averaging four to a
family, with the female sex slightly predominat-

ing.

The afternoon of the day of their encampment
brought a merry crowd of oung people down to
Maple Lane. from R—, an as she knew many of
them, Miss Dolly Denning joined the gathering n a
stroll through the camp.

She was a decided blonde, of attractive form.
charming of face. and tasty of .dress, and wherever
she went, she attracted attention and admiration.

It was so at the G psy camp.

There were severe stalwart and duskil handsome
young fellows among the band, who ad a keen
336 for beauty and they took occasion to stare at
h as Denning in a way that was not pleasant to

er.
So. seeing Mr. Ralph Jamisoh present, she accept-
ed of his offered protection, and he returned scowls
for the admiring stares of the Gypsies.

Ralph Jamison, in personal ap ammo and dress.
was an exact counterpart of his rother. Frank, and
not two out of every ten persons who saw them cOuid
tell them apart. so alike were they.

It was by their difference in temperaments that
they were distinguishable, for, while Frank was hab-
itually mild and retiring in his habits, Ral h was of
a somewhat wilder nature, and more inc nod to be
reckless and oily.

As he 11 some, and Frank was a total abstain-

 

   

er, some of the farmers had been known to say that
“ they could pick out Ralph by smelling his breath,
if in no other way.“

Ralph Jamison had another peculiarity; thou in
much sought after by the ladies, he was practica y
not so much of a lady’s man as his brother, and
seemed to prefer the companionship of his gun to
that of any one of the many pretty girls who would-
have been delighted with his society.

He had often said he would not marry the best
girl in existence, and the belief prevails that he
meant what he said.

His lack of appreciation of the fair sex, however,
did not prevent his being a polite and agreeable-
c/zupwon when occasion demanded it, and he did the
escort for Dolly Denning about the camp in a way'
that made many of the eilows envy him.

"I suppose you have had your fortune told al—
ready?” he remarked, as they sauntered along.

“ hi no, sir; I never had it told, as aunty says it,
is all nonsense."

“ Ahi I see. That's because aunty has ot a busi—
ness eye after the eVerlasting penny, “ Ralp laughed,

“I don‘t know, I‘m sure. 0! course, aunty is.
close in some things, but she is liberal and kind in
others."

" I think I could tell your fortune pretty well,”
Ralph chatted on. “You are soon to be married-
that is, if that is any indication," and he pointed to-
a solitaire ring upon her finger.

“ That should not be construed as havin any sig-
nificance," she said. locking confused. “ y, who
in the world should I marry?“

“Whom you should marry, and whom on will:

marry, are two different things. I supposei you are
hankering after love in a cotta e, you should be-
come Mrs. Frank Jamison, but have understood
that the 1prospects are more favorable for your be—
coming rs. Judge Jamison."

Dolly made no reply, although her face assumed‘
a pained expression, and she soon sdroitly changed
the conversation to another subilect.

During the afternoon she vis ted the tent of the
Gypsy queen. in company with Ralph, to have her-
fortune told. nearly all her girl acquaintances hav—
ing had their fortunes expounded.

The Gypsy queen proved to be quite an invisible-
person. for s e was attired in a robe of somber black,
and her face was obscured from view by a thick
vail, through which two round holes wore out for the-
eyes. and a third cne for her to s ak through.

Her hands also were gloved in lack kids, and, all
considered. she might well be said to be a somber
Dame of Fortune.

t Att her request Ralph Jamison retired from the-
en .

What she then said to Dolly Denning he had no:
means of knowing, but when the girl came forth
all the roses had left her cheek, and in their place-
was an unnatural pallor. .

“ wh . what is the matter, Miss Denning?" he-
quickiy asked. stepping forward.

“ Nothing!” she gasped. “Take me as far as the
cotta e. and, for heaven’s sake, say nothing to aunt,
Prise la thatl visited the G psy queen."

“Of course not. But. tel me, as a friend, did she-
do or sa anything to ou that necessitates her ch88»
tisemen ? if so. by raven, for Frank's sake, I’ll
turn the whole Gypsy crew from this lane at the-
point of my revolver! ’

“No! not For m sake sa nothing. Only I
inust go home. As me not ing, but take me
ome.

He too]! her firm. and they walked silently away-
toward Ivy Cottage.

Once or tWice she shuddered on the we , and.
when they come near to the cottage she t anked
apd dismissed him, and entered the cottage grounds
a one.

“ Strange, what the Gypsy ueen said to agitate
her 80,” Ralph muttered. “ (1 like to know. for I
aiwa s fancied there was some secret connected
with er life."

He turned to retrace his footsteps, and, as he did
80. 83W a man standing but a few steps away. his
figure rtly screened from view by the trunk of one
of the uge maples. _

He was a Gypsy, 0’ commanding fl ure, and evi-
dentiy of great muscular strength. s skin was as.
swarthy as anative Italian’s, his face a coarse. evil-
expressioned one, With gleaming black eym. a.
coarse. sensual mouth, with pearly teeth. and shaded
by a fierce. black mustache. His hair. of a like hue,
fell in waves over his shoulders.

He was, apparently, some thirty years of age, and
was attired in rather fantastic Gypsy garb, and wore
a broad-rim hat, pinned up at one side.

He was gazing after Dolly Denning’s retreating
form in a way that caused Ralph Jamison’s blood to
fairly boil in his veins. , .

“ See here!" he cried, steppink qmckly toward the
Gypdy. whom he remembered as being one of those
w ose staring had anno (d Dolly at the camp,
“who are you, and what 0 you want?"

The Gypsy folded his arms across his breast and
surveyed is accoster.

“I am Gril Guyandotte," he announced, coolly.

“You are, eh? And .what do you mean by dogging
me and this young lady l"

“ I haven’t been doggingjyon."

“ None of your lyingi on were in your camp
when we left."

“ And took a notion to walk this way,"

t “lgahi Then why were you standing behind the
rec

“ That‘s none of your business. sir."

“Isn‘t it? I’ll show you whether it isn’t. You get
bsck’toward your camp or I'll send a bullet through

on!
y And by a dextrous move Ralph Jamison whipped

   

SaIESlabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective. ‘ 5

(3.4 ‘ . "w p» .- .. ' .
' 'c,;.:..t“"  H u ‘ . .,,-1_.‘_.,,

_4

 

\C.  ."1 "‘ "f .

 

a revolver out of his hip-pocket and leveled it at the
dashin Gypsy.

Gril ‘uyandotte only smiled, disagreenbiy.

“ Oh! put up your weapon 1" he said.
about to turn back when you saw me.”

“Then go! and see that you keep wide away from
~yonder cottage, if you value your )ersonal safety.”

Guyandotte made no retort. 'ut turned and
walked leisurely toward the camp of his peo )le.

Ralph Jamison followed, and passing Oil t lrougli
the camp, continued on down the lane.

" I don‘t like the looks of that Guyandotto a bit l"
he said as he strode along. " He has an evil 0 'e in
his head, and had a motive in seeing where olly
went. I hardly think, howeVer, he'd dare make an
attempt to kidna her. Such things used to happen
iii days gone by, 11!. the law is too wide-awake in
these times for such rnfllau’s work."

And so he dismissed all thoughts of the matter
from his mind.

“It would, indeed, have been a bold attempt to
make, and there was no probability of its being
made.

Just before he reached the connection of the lane
with the main highway, Ra! h was surprised to see
his brother step out from be ind a tree.

There was a wild, unnatural gleam in Frank‘s eyes,
and he was white with passion. _

“ Hold up!" he said, grimly, stepping out into the
road. “So I cau ht you at it, did 1?“

He uttered the ntei'rogatory in a hoarse, unnatur-
al tone, which caused Ralph to flush with surprise
for he and his brother had always been on good
terms.

“ Why, caught me at what. Frank?"

“ In company with Dolly Denning!"

“Yes, I was in her company for a short time. She
was afraid of some of the prsnes, who stared inso-
lently at her, and I offered her my protection.”

“Indeed! You took her home. too?"

“ Nearly so. Something the Gypsy queen said
’caused her great itation, and she was weak and
trembling. and askei me to See her home. 1 am sure
there‘s no harm in that. Frank."

“ I ain't so sure. I want it understood that no fos-
ter father, brother, nor any one eISe, shall stand be-
tween me and that girl."

“ Pshaw! Frank, you're exeited. You know I don’t
'want her. I‘ve enough to do to look after Ralph
.Jamison, without bothering my brains with a matri-
ml min] incumbrance.”

. “ All right. I hear. But I want you to hear also.
’The first man I catch talking to her dies .’ She has
:deceived me, but she shall never show favor to an-
-0‘.ln-r. [have sworn to it. So beware!"

“ And as he uttered the words, in a ringing tone,
.8. man came driving into the lane in a handsome car-
riage, drawn b a s an of high-stepping horses, and
overheard the end y spoken words, thereby causing
a dark scowl to darken his brow—a scowl betoken-
ing no good to impetuous and jealous Frank Jami-
son.

The man, of course, was Judge Jamison. He was
attired with scrupulous neainess and was gelng to
Ivy Cottage to see Dolly Deuuing.

“I was

 

\

CHAPTER V.
moss.

SAM Smasmns had hardly expected to see a bond
fill.- spook, when he grasped hold of that which had
hurried past him, in the darkness; hence. his sur-
prise was great, when he beheld a girl of about his
own size and age, ill the illumination of the vivid
lightning flash. .

Nor was it this girl from whose lips had pealed the
blood-eurdiing shriek. .

That had a lpeared to come fr0nl_out in the dense
darkness of t le night, where the mill was now pour-
ing down in torrents.

" Hello. sis, who are mm ?" Sam demanded, keep-
mil & “Fm gripe upon lit-1‘ shoulder. f None if yer
squirnnn‘. now, fer yo can’t git away, till yer give an
account of yorself."

“Oh! please. sir, let me go. I’ll Scream for help
if you don‘t!" was the reply,

"All right! Exercise er bugle as much as yer
like, for all ther good mail do yer. I ain‘t no piriit,
so yer needn‘t be skeered. I’m jest a 6mm,” what
dl‘UPle i“ 11“" 011‘ 0' the rain, and as the ghosts
hev bin ruism’ hob. around here, 19m in f,., invosti.

atin‘ matters. ' Dld 3'" hit me a peg ’longside the
Jam. a hit age?’

“ No, I didn‘t. .L_et mo go!”

" Now. don't git "1 ‘1 bu"); Et is rainin’ like Jil-
iter. an’ yer don‘t wanter git w: t. Jest be sm-iable-
ike, an’ tell me who ye air. an' I Won’t llilrt yer.

My name is Samuel Siabsuies, an’ I’m what ther
high-toners call a train . ‘But. that’s nnthin'_I'1u
as good as they are. W lat s your name?"

“ Floss!" ,

“Phewl yer don’t say! That s_ a crackin’ puny
name. Knocks the tariff all lopsided on Slahsides.
don't it? Ef yer is as purty as 3'0? Dame, you're a
stunner, I'll bet. Ah! I have 1 1

.5  ‘,

“A match! I want a better look at you;" and as
be 5901“. he struck the match on the wall. and pro.
duced a light that lasted long enough for the two
to $2915 8.200d look at each other. .

The 8111 was about sixteen, trime built. and nite
'prettY. havms a brunette compiexmn. and dark air
ilowmg over her shoulders to her waist.

She wore a plain chintz dress, a jaunty straw hat,
‘but no shoes or stockings.

'l‘o Sam Slabsides’s eye, however, she was a ver-
itable beauty, and he gave a prolonged whistle of
surprise.

 

“ Well! I'll be gobbled u ) by dog-ketchers, of you
ain‘t a rvg'lar daisy i" he e aculated. “ What d yer
think 0‘ me fer good looks?"

“I could tell better if your face was clean," was
the prompt response.

" .‘houldn‘t wonder a bit. I wears dirt on my fact»
ter kee
preventitivo fer sun-stroke, too.
, arts?"

l‘ N().¥‘

“Yo don‘t! Where do yer live, then, and what
aire yo doin‘ in this gliosbtrap?"

" I belong with the Gypsy camp, below here. I
came up here to sell some heads. and found no
one at home. So I looked through the house, and it
got dark so quick, I nearly lost my way."

“ Ye don‘t say! An‘ yt' r’ a Gypsy gal?"

“ Yes."

“ Gosh, that’s nice! D‘yo know. I jest dote on
vasies, I do! Come nigh oinin' ’em, last year,
when l was on the tramp, jes ’cause I fell in luv wi’
a gal ‘bout 'er size She was the queen, tho‘,
and high-tone as a owl Oil or telegraff pole, an'. so,
as I didn't know how tor steal bosses, the capting
allowed I'd better niose , an‘ I did. He Wore an or-
ful bi r boot, too. Say, how fur's yer camp?"

h “ A )out a mile distant—in the maple lane, below
ere."

“ All right. Mebbe I‘ll drop down an‘ see yer, ter-
niorrow. Wait. I‘ll get yer a chair."

“ No! no! I must go."

“ Nary a time. 'til it sto s pourin'. I‘ll see yer
part way hum, then. You' 1 wait, won‘t ye?"

“I— I'm afraid they will be alarmed at the

from gettin' tanned and freckled. Sure
Live 'round these

cam ."

“ ixee! They'll know you've sense enough to
stay under shelter “

And so Sam darted into the parlor, snatched up a
couple of chairs, and got out again, in double-quick
order considering the darkness.

“ 0‘]! go out on the veranda," he said. “ My old
side- ardner, Felix, is out there."

" ho!"

" Old Felix. He's a r old he gar, that's trav-
elin‘ 'round the hemis eer wi' mc— lind in one eye.
and can’t see out o‘ t'other. Come on, he won't, hurt
on. ‘

3 The Gypsy girl seemed to have confidence in the
young tramp, for she followed and was soon seated
on the veranda of the lonely house.

Sam then began to grope about in quest of Felix.

“ liello! Where air yer Felix?" he cried. "Bet
a buttermilk bonbon he's fast asleep. Iiey! Felix!“

He called loudly hilt there was no answer,

“ Drat it, I left him right here a few minutes a o.
I idon;t believe he'd go away. I wish it would lig t-
n n i

e got his wish a few seconds later, when there
were several vivid and lengthy glares of heaven's
pyrotechnics iii rapid successmn.

By this light Sam was able to see that old Felix
was not on the front or either side piazza, nor any-
where to be seen iii front of the house.

‘_' Well. I‘ll be jiggeredl Ain't that
said. “What d‘ye suppose could have
my old pal?"

“ I‘m sure I don‘t know." Floss replied.
a shriek when you caught hold of me.
harm has beta len him."

“ That wasn’t h 5 shout. He couldn‘t raise secli a
squeal as that e be was or try. He‘s too old an‘
feeble. Thet was ther host as yelled.“

“There are no such t ings as ghosts!"

“ Ain‘t ther’? Waal. Downlhat idea I‘ve always
carried, but I’ve found out dltYerent. There‘s a pre-
scription put il ill ther parlor as sez as how this
house is ha'ntei . Some feller committed susanside.
nn’ I reckon got inter a hot climate an‘ is glad ter
come back."

“ I saw the notice, but there is no such a thing as
a ghost. Perhaps your friend fell oft the cum"

“ iebbe. I‘ll go reconn0lter. Will you wait for
me?‘

ueer?" he
come of

“ I heard
Maybe some

“ Yes."

"SUPP. now?"

“ 33‘s."

“ All right, I n't be long."

Then Sam pliin ed away in the pouring rain.

By the time he reached the verge of the cliff there
was more lightning.

Thus he was enabled to see below.

But no trace of Felix was visible at that point, so
Sam moved on through the curing rain until he
had made an entire circuit of t 1e bluff-top.

But all in vain. _

lI~‘feflix plainly had not fallen over the side of the

u .

Where was he. the“?

Had he wandered into the house at some other
point than the main entrance?

This Seemed the only probable way of accounting
for his singular disappfmmnce.

Sam had not, been in the house over fifteen min.
utt‘S. at the most, so it would seem that Felix could
not have get far awtlY- ,

Sam went back to the piazza.

Floss was still there.

“ Did you find him?” sire asked.

“ No—nary a trace of him.

“Very strange; who! could have become of him?"

“ I should smile. Did yer hear any more ghosts?"

ILNOI I

Then he told her of the mysterious slap he had
got in the parlor. _ ‘

“ Now. of there aln t dead ghosts ‘round here,
there‘s limo ones." he'snid. “ an” I’ll bet on it."

" Live ones more likely, though I was all through
the house an didn’t see anyone."

“Well, I‘m goin’ to investlimte. If Felix ain't in
the place, somethin‘ ’sterious has happened to him.”

“You’re not going to venture into the house in
the dark, are you?"

f“Not if I can find anything to makeatorch out
0 'VD

He once m0'e went around to the rear of tho
house and made a search iii the shed. As luck
would have it, he found an old tiii lantern which con-
tained both oil and wick.

Returning to the piazza, be lit it, and was ready to
set out on his tour of investigation.

“ As it is raining hard yet, I will accompany you,"
Floss said.

“All rigllt. Keep yer eyes peeled fer ghosts, and
if we kill run one down, we‘ll have a ghost bar-
becue!"

They then entered the mansion.

The r first investigation was through the parlor,
where Sam lind got the mysterious slap in the face,
but nothing new was discovered.

The room resented the same appearance as be~
fore, except t lat the two chairs were. gone.

The other rooms of the first floor were next
searched, and the plucky couple even Ventured
down into the cellar. '

Here they found a multitude of bottles. barrels
and champagne baskets, which seemed to indicate
that the previous owner of the place had been a
bibulous individual.

Among a lot of rubbish, Sam picked up a letter.

The envelo e was addressed:

“Lennox . Jamison. R——, Ky."

Sam thrust it carelessly into his pocket, and they
went upstairs.

Their next venture was into the second story
where they visited room after room. examined
closets, and every cubby-hole that could contain a

rson.

“What are you going to do, if you fall to find
your friend?" Floss asked, as they pursued their
search.

“ Dunno! Give it up!" was the reply. "There's
somethln' mi ht mysterious about st, or I'll be
mistook for t e greaident. Ef I can't find no trace
of Felix. he‘s been tuk prisoner. an' hain‘t fur from
this inlmeget nei hborhood, an' l'll bet thee sters
on et. Anyhow, don‘t leave these parts till find
out what‘s become 0' Felix.“

He spoke energeticalii, and as he was the ve
sort of a lad who once a had said a thing woul
is'tickdtoit, it looked favorable for Felix yet being

onn .

They next began to explore the third story, but
the result was similar to that which had greeted
them elsewhere.

There was no one in the house, so far as they
could find out. nor were there any signs of any on.
having recently been there.

“ This 'ere mystery takes the bunion!" 8am com-
meuted, as they made their way down-stairs. “ It
looks as if the earth bed 0 ned an' swallered Felix.
Ef it did, ct must ‘a' bin ard-u fer suthin' to eat.
fer there weren't enufl' meat on is bones ter satisfy
an ordinary Jersey muskeeter."

"I am also singularly impressed by his strange
disappearance," Floss said. “Some mystery does
seem to hang ov1-r this old house. Perhaps n the
morning you will find Felix at some neighboring
farm-house."

“ Hope so, hilt don‘t half expect to!" Sam said,
grimly. " I reckon mebbe the spooks collared onto
him jest because he was gettin' old and helpless."

By this time they had got down-stairs, and they
went out on the iazza once more.

As he did so, am pointed to where he had previ-
ously placed and left the. parlor chairs, at the same
time uttering the startled ejaculation:

“The chairs are gone!“

And it was true; the two chairs had been removed
from the piazza!

Floss turned pale, and Sam’s eyes were literally
as bi as saucers.

" orse. and more of it, by Jingol" he gasped.
“There’s no use of chinnin‘! be old rat-trap is
haunted l"

The rain had ceased to fall, the lightning to flash,
and the thunder to reverberate.

Darkness reigned deep and intense.

“l’m going!" Floss said, with a shiver.
place is no place for me."

“ W it a minute, and 1'1180 part way with you!"
Sa'n exclaimed.

He darted into the hall, and flashed his light into
the parlor. .

It tool: but a glance for him to discern that the
chairs had been replaCed in the original positions
from which he had taken them.

This was enough!

He returned to the iazza.

Hwe'll get out of t is!" he said. “ I‘ll postjourn
my investigation till to-morrow. Then. of I don‘t do
some big flggerin‘. my name ain‘t Sam Slabsldes.
nohow!“

“ if I can steal away maybe I‘ll come and help

on," Floss said.

Then they left the piazza, and advanced toward
the edge of the bluff.

As they did 80. there issued from the house a
series of wild and blood-curdling shrieks. that were
so awful that the caused the two to quicken their
footsteps. While 611‘ hair literally had a tendency
to rise on end.

“Oh! s ueal away!" Sam muttered. “If I don'.
find out w 0‘s doin that catwaulin', ye can €811 1110
a slabsided N. G. chump from Weehawkenl"

“ This

 

CHAPTER VI.
THE JUDGE cons CALLING.

 

Juno: JAuison was seen by Frank and Ralph In.
most as soon as he saw them, but he drove stmfgh.

U N .5“...

 

... «n -— . "a mmwmm» -...u.._..... oil-Me. ,:,

 

’6

|

Sam Slabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective.

 
 

 

 

l
along, and passed them, nodding to Ralph, but pay-
ing no attention whatever to Frank.

When he had driven on, Frank Jamison shook his
clinched fist after him.

“Go on, foolish man, if you t'iuk you are well
cfll" he hissed, savagely. “ lt‘s little I owe ‘ou—or
you either, Ralph, for you know that unce John

’an Golder was supposed to have left money be-
hind, to be applied to our benefit."

“Iknow t ere was such a story, Frank, but I
guess it was all nonsense. for it never could be
proved that uncle John owned a cent in the world,

eyond the old house on the bluff, at the time of his
snicide."

“Because, it was Lennox Jamison who discovered
and cut down the body, and it‘ anything was left be-
hind, it is probable he took care of it, and destroyed
all )apers."

“ on should not talk this way, Frank. It is not
just, or right."

“ Oh! well, have your own way, if you like—it
matters not to me, nor does it change my opinion, a
particle. All you need do is to see that you keep
clear of Iv Cottage."

“Don’t ear, Frank. I shall not bother your 1'12-
amoaz’lu; but for God’s sake. and your brother‘s
Bake, do not stoop to do anything rash, or crimi'ial."

“Don‘t lecture me. I’ll do as I please about
thatl" Frank declared, independently, and turning,
he walked swift] away toward home.

Ralph followe , thoughtfully, and ate. much slow-
er gait.

In the mean time, the judge drove on, toward Ivy
Cottage.

The grim expression of his countenance lifted
somewhat, as he held his prancing steeds from
trotting, but the light of his col.l gray eyes was
none the less stern and intense—c es that were fur-
tivo in their glance, and suggeste that there were
fi-w it’ any ennobling passions in his heart.

He was an imposing-looking person, however, and
as he drove through the Gypsy camp, he and his
equipage attracted much attention.

Aizio.:g others who saw him, without bein
was a man who stood partly in the shadow 0%
the wagons.

I-Ie gavea low whistle of surprise, and his teeth
Went together with a click.

Judge Jamison drove on, to Ivy Cottage, without
knowledge of this fact, however.

Arrived at the cottage, he got out of the carriage
and tied his horses; then walked up the graveled

ath to the vine. and rose embowcred porch, where
.Iiss Priscilla Tanglef‘oot was Seated, in her clean
calico wrapper, placing over some raspberries, for

  

seen.
one of

 

ea.

Miss Priscilla was a typical old maid.

Forty odd years had passed over her head—if, in-
deed, not fifty. odd—and left her a tall, angular wo-
man, with a spare amount of flesh. and a thin, vine-
gary visage, with prominent high cheek-bones, a
pointed chin, and iron gray hair.

“Good—evening, Priscilla," Judge Jamison salut-
ed, seating himself on the lower step. “This has
hem a scorchin hot da 1"

“Yes, but we ave no minded it so much, here,
judge—we have so much shade,"

“ Yes, indeed. You made 5 Wise choice in making
this your home. I see on have another Gypsy
hand, down the lane! W iy do you allow so many
of those vagabonds to camp there, Priscilla?"

“ Well, you see, judge, the lane never ets turned
to any real account, otherwise; and, 1’] tell you, I
make quite a few pennies of! the Gyrsies. by selling
them farm products. They generally have money,
and pay for what they get. An every penny
counts, nowadays, judge—every penny counts."

“Yes, I suppose it does. But, what‘s all these
pennies going to benefit you, if you never enjoy

hem?”

“ Oh! well, Dally will have them, you know.
Everything will go to Dolly.” .

“ By the way, where is my fair Dolly, now?"

“Dear me! she’s tip-stairs lying down with sick
headache, judge. She would pchist in going to see
the (iypsirs, and I ex ect it overcame her.”

The judge slighil rowned.

“I on’t care a out having her running about
‘these cncam )mentsi“ he said. “There is nothing
beneficial to elcarned at them. Ilas Frank been
here within the past three or four hours?”

u if

_ “ It is well. Do you think she saw him at the
eating)?”

“ am quite sure she didn’t. She always tells me,
‘when she sees him. Then, too, she is never down-
. spirited, after meeting him."

She is down-spirited, then, when she does not meet
‘ him?"
‘ “ Sort of.”

“ Well, she will have to get over this. I’ve settled
lFIank’s case, effectually, I think.”

“ Indeed!" _

“ Yes. You see I gave him the hint, the other day,
lthat I desired him to discontinue his visits, here.”

“I know; but he came." .

“Well, I had an interview with him to-da ,and
commanded him to kee awa from here. told
him that I was engage to Do ly,’ and that we were
to be married, within the month. ’

“ What did he say i”

" Practically. nothing. He appeared rather dazed
land walked out of my resenco without the violent

manifestation I had 100 ed for.”
“ Likely, then, he will not come any more,”
“I think not. If he does come, they must not

9!

 

 

eet.

" I will try to prevent it, udge."

“ Of course, like the sens his woman you are. You
pee, if a meeting can be avoided, it may be the means

 

 

of causing much trouble. Do you think Dolly has
quite settled herself down to the fact that she is to
marry me?”

“Iam pretty sure. She is a sensible girl, and I
keep praising you, and counseling her, until I am
satisfied all will be Well."

“ it would be a reat disgrace if she should back
out. I have pub icly announced our engagement,
and made arrangements for starting on o- r Euro-
pean tour, immediately after our marriage.”

“ Yes?"

“ And I am anxious for the day to come. Yousee
I shall not be positively sure of the girl, until we are
legally bound. Do you think there is any like-
lihood she could be urged to name a sooner date,
Priscilla?"

“ I don’t know, I‘m sure Why sooner?”

“ Well, you see, my dreams haven’t been of the
leasant order, lately. I need not explain more,
at you can understand. 1 shall not e positivis.

1y easy until I put the Atlantic between me and
America."

“Then, in case anything should happen, all the
trouble—”

“Nonseiisel"the judge interrupted. “ But. let‘s
drop the subject. t’s not pleasant to dwell upon.
Go call Dolly and tell licrI want to see her.”

“ Iladn‘t vou better let her rest. judge? Her head
aches, and I can tell you, from experience, that sick
headache is not agreeable.”

“ Baht” was the heartless reply; “she. must not
have time to rest. Rest generates thought, and
thou ht might play the devil with my calculations.
Besit cs. I’ve got a present for her.”

Priscilla. set aside her berry dishes, rose and enter-
tercd the house.

She was gone several minutes, but when she re-
turned she was accompanied by her niece.

Dolly was looking little less pale than when
she had emerged from the tent of the Gypsy
queen, and she scarcely needed, when she saw the
judge.

"Ahl dear; I am so sorry to hearyou are not feeling
well," he said, making room for lll'I‘ on the step.
“ You should take great care “Lt to fatigue yourself
with over-exertion, for what should I do were I to
lose my bonnie little b trothcd?”

“ Hunt up another I suppOSc,” Dolly replied, pass-
ing her hand over her brow. wearily.

“Tut! tut! That is idle jest, ded'rt st, for you know
I might search the world over and not find one who
could fill your place in my heart. : ee, 1 haw
brought you a little gift as a token of my affec-
tion.

And he placed a magnificent Velvet-and-gold watch-
case in her hands, at the same time touching a
spring and causing the lid to fl open.

Inside, among the satin cus iions. nestled a bean-
tiful ladies' watch and chain, of gold, elaborately set
with tiny sparkling diamonds.

It must have cost Several hundred dollars at the
least, and was a gift fit for a princess.

“ Isn’t it retty?" the judge asked, eagerly.

“ Very," oily replied, oddly—“ too prety.by half,
for me to wear." .

“ Say not that. darling. There is nothing too
pretty for you. and when we return from our wedding
tour, you shall have the handsomest horses and car-
riages, money can procure.

“ y the wag, that calls to mind, the ob'ect of my
visit here, to- ay. I have learned, that, y sailing
considerably sooner than We had originally intended
we will arrive in England in time for the Derby
races, which I suppose vou may have heard, is an
aristocratic event, in B tish life. So I want to ask
you if we cannot arrange it to be married without
delay, so as to take in one of the great attractions
of our European tour?”

“ No. I cannot consent to an earlier marriage
day than the one already settled upon," Dolly said,
without hesitation.

"But, why not? Sufficient costumers can be pro-
videdfito fit out your wardrobe within a few days‘
time.

“ It is not that. The time is short enough thatI
am to remain single, and I would ’twere even longer.
So I cannot think of makingit evena day less."

She spoke firmly, and the judge had sense enough
to know that he would not gain anything, by persis-
tencv.

“ Olil well. then, we will try and omit the Derby.
But would you not like to accompany my daughter
Jessie to the sea-shore for a couple of weeks. and
stop at New York on your Way back. for your trous-
seau? This humdrum life at home must be dull for
one so young and vivacious.”

“You are very kind, sir, but I prefer to remain
with aunty, until my marriage. Indeed. I thinkI
should searcely appreciate the European trip. I am
such a home body. ’

“ Oh! that is because you have never traveled
an . Once you travel ou will like it. I will not de-
tain you longer, dear, i3, your head aches, for I feel
for you. But, if I were ou,I would not go to the
GFpsy camp. again. I ike notthe looks of those
swarthy vagabonds. Say the best one can, of them,
they are most undesirable persons."

Dolly did not make answer to this advice, but re-
tired to her own room.

Ttlie judge looked somewhat anxious, after her de-
ar ure.

“She looks more worried than sick.” he remark-
ed, to Priscilla. “Confound in can it he that she
regrets her promise. and is pining after Frank?"

“ Indeed. I don‘t know, judge—indeed I don’t
know. Girls are so strange, now, to what they
used to be.”

“ Well. I m blamed if I know what to do. I am in
fidgets lest something happens. You see she refuses
an earlier ceremonyl"

 

“ I had an idea she would."

:‘And to me it looks suspicious—as if she were
still in love with Frank. and was loth to place the
barrier of matrimony in the way of her freedom to
enjoy his society."

“ It may be so.”

“ Something must be done!” he gritted. “ It will
neverdo for me to lose, now How would it do to-
keep her shut up in her room it" _

Priscilla smiled—one of those vinegary smiles. it
was, for which she was locally noted.

“ That would end all your chances of ever making
her your wife.” she said. ‘

" rue. I might have known that. Well, I will.
see I must do something."

And with this conclusion be bid Priscilla adieu,
got into his carriage, and drove away toward

‘Larchniont."

His face was dark with commingled passion and
anxiety.

“I do not like the outlook," he muttered.
“Frank‘s Words, to-night, prove that he is hence-
forth my enemy, and he may cause me trouble.
Something must be done—but what? He has led
such an exceptionally good life that no charge can
be brought against him that would make it necessary
for him to leave this vicinity, to get out of the way
of the law. If—” '

int he did not finish the sentence.

“ What the “ if“ might have implied could only
he left to conjecture.

But the stran e glitter which flashed in the judge's
eye, suggested hat some evil thought had occurred.
to him. which. if put into execution, would rid him
of the cause of his present anxiety.

 

CHAPTER VII.
A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

SAM Smasmss accompanied Floss, the G psy girl,
to the vicinity of the tribe’s camp", and t ere took
leave of her, she promising to see im on the mor-
row. at the deserted manSion, if possible.

After she left him. Sam began to cast about for-
some place to spend the remainder of the night, for
he had no desire to return to the ghosts head—
quarters. Shelter of some sort was to be desired, in
preference to sleeping on the dam ground.

Following the road for a short istance. he found
what was evidently a hay-barn, and not located
very close to any habitation.

After scouting about the place, he discovered an
open door. and soon after was ensconced upon a
mow of newly-mown hay. which made the most.
comfortable bed he had en 'oytd in months.

Here he lay. for fully an our, in s eculation as to
what had become of o d Felix Jacob .

“ Fer a rip-ripe myst‘ry et takes the tar-heel!" he
muttered; “ and I‘m a Pliilymedelfy magistrate cf 1‘
know w‘ot ter make uv it. Old Felix has evaporated
from view, like steam from an engine. What makes
it so curious is ’cause he allus did est as I sed, be-
fore. Ef I told him ter set, while went on a forag-
ing exrierdishun, he allus set, an” 1 found him thar‘
when cum back. Then, too, he Wer’ purty well;
tagged out ter-night,an‘ he wouldn‘t 'a‘ felt much
like waltzin’ of! on his own hook—no, sir-eel

“ Thar’s some ‘mighty queer goin’s on up at thet
"ouse on the hill: an’ ‘tain't no use talkin’. I b‘lieve
old Felix hev been gobble up by somebody or suthin"
right ‘bout them remises. But, w‘ot fer? He ain’t
wu‘th two cents 1) money, 'ca‘se I’ve got the seven
cents we captured to-day. He ain’t no good fer'
soap-fat, ‘cause he‘s leaner than a Jersey shrimp,
an’ he ain‘t the lost Charlie Ross, case he a too old.
Don’t reckon the doctors Would steal him fer his-
skeleton, an” he wouldn’t elope wid a pretty gah
’cause he couldn‘t see what color she was. So w’ot‘s.
a feller ter think?

“Then how ’bout thet ghost racket? My GYPSY
mash let on size didn’t b'lieve in ghosts. but them
last yowls made‘r kinder pale ‘round the gills Guess
she’s got a different opine now. But ther’s some
parts 0’ that aire ghost racketw'ot don’t jibe.

" How the (lickens is or floatin‘_speerit, w‘ot’s thin-
ner tliun cr ten-cent Zephyr, gOIn' ter pick up two
twenty pound chairs. an” Cfll‘X‘V ‘em inter a parlor?
An‘ how’s sech a critter 201n'_t(*r haul (ff an hit er
feller a, crack ’longside the Jaw wi‘ ther force 0’ at
Sullivan? ’Pears ter_ 1119. too. thet them ‘ere ghosts
weren’t trubbled “'1’ consumption, ther way they
yell. But—hello!" ,

This exclamation was caused by hearing a groan.

To such a state of excitement had the young
tramp's nerves already been wrought up that night,
that the sound caused a chill to run down his back.

It was undoubtedly a groan, and an unearthly one
at that.

As near as Sam could judge, the sound came from
the. barn floor, at the op )osite end of the building
from the door where be ad gained entrance.

“ I wonder what‘s the next thing on the m.

mme to frighten a. feller out 0‘ his Wits?’ he
owled. “Can et be the ghosts new follered me
eeri Don’t reckon at was a host what give thet
groan. Sounded like some 18 er as bed a. gripe-
thro’ eatin’ watermellon."

A moment later there reached his hearing another
groan. similar to the first. '

“There et goes ag’inl "I‘ain t no ghost. Mebbe
somebody’s hurt!"

He had brought his lantern with him, unlit.

Groping about. be $00!! 1' Olmd a beam on which he:
could strike a match, and he had the lantern mm a

jiff .

'then he slid from the mow to the floor,

‘ As he did so, the light he carried shone upon a
startling spectacle.

Lying upon the floor, face upward, and covet-45¢

I ,- , l.'

- ’ t 3 .
.whfli Amway“
. m.

 
 

   

 

Sam Slabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective. 7

 

 

 

with blood from head to foot, was one of the Jami-
son boys.

Blood had oozed from a knife-wound in the. side of
his neck, and another in his breast, and blood was
smeared upon his face and hands.

His eyes were wide open and glassy, as they
glared at the light, and it lleeded but a glance to te l

hat the poor fellow was dying.

De lsiting the lamp on a box, Sam quickly knelt
bcsi e him.

“Good gracious!" he gasped, “it’s the fuller as
was goin1 to commit suicide—Frank Jamison! He
went an‘ did et. sure enuii'.“

A (groan csca ed the sufferer, and his eyes became
flxe upon the leggar‘s boy.

‘ Say! can yer talk?“ Sam demanded.

The victim shook his head, and raising his hands,
put them to his throat.

Then he rapidly \vent through a series of motions
with his fingers.

“ Ohl ye mean deaf an’ dumb alfybet, eh?” Sam
asked.

An affirmative nod of the head.

" All right. I can understand, if yer go it slow."

The fingers worked again.

This was t he result:

“ I/mre INC”: Illlll‘ch't’ll.

" Murdered l" Sam echoed.
this you. self?"

"NJ! m! Qui‘ck.’ 7‘un.’ br/‘rm: 1 die!" was the au-
swcr, with the fingers.

Sam quickl sprung to his feet, and darted from
the barn. leavmg the lamp burning.

Ov- -r the fence he leaped, with the agility of a
monkey, and away down the road, leading to Larch-
mont,

He knew there must he a farm-house not far
away, and he ran like a deer to find it.

Less than aquarlcr of a mile on he came to one.

He ounded 0n the door, making enough noise,
lit ‘ral v, to raise the dead.

In a few minutes an upper window was raised, and
n \' .Et-cc.1lled out:

" V.’ ho's then-t"

" 'l'.'hcl‘c dot-s Frank Jamison’s folks live?”

“ ’l‘wo houses below.“

" Well, I have jest found ‘im layin‘ in the barn, up
the road, murdered. You’d better go see to him,
while I go tell his folks.”

Then awa darted Sam.

Tile next ousehold he alarmed, and then sped on.

It will be remembered thouin incidents ltad
cromded close together, that it was not yet mid-
nig .

When Sam reached Larchmont there was a bright
light in the parlor, and music of a Well-manipulated
piano floated out through the open windows, upon
the night—gay, operatic airs, that should have been
a funeral dirge.

Sam, 'i‘t'.1tl_}' excited, sprung over the low iron
fence. t lcnee up the lawn, onto the viranda, and
without waiting for ceremony, jumped through one
of the open easements, into the parlor.

Judge Jamison sat in an easy -chair. smoking.

Jessie, his pretty daughter, pre idcd at tho )iano.

The sudden advent of Sam Slabsides cause( both
to spring to their feet with startled cries.

“ Are you Jamison 5"” Sam breathlessly demanded.

“I am Judge Jamison, sir. What do you mean
by this unseemly intrusion?”

“ Are ye Frank J amison‘s father?"

“ Yes, yes i"

“ Then. comel Yer son lies murdered an‘ dyin’,
in a hay-barn, up the road. I jest found ‘im. He‘s
all stabbed up!"

Jessie Jamison uttered a scream, and sunk to the
floor in a swoon.

The judge pulled a boil, then seizing his hat, cried:

“Lead on. I am ready."

Tiliey hastily left Larcllmonl, and hurried up the
ma .

“How did you come to find him?" the judge de-
mandrd.

“ I “'33 huntin’ up a night‘s snooze. an' entered
the ham. 1 heerd a groan, an’ on ‘vestigatin’, found
’nn.’

“ How (loyou know it’s my son ‘3"

“ fii'g’d 11"“ W'daY. nu’ talked wi’ him up at the

Ol’lt .

p Sam made no further statement

He was too much out Of breath.

When tllcv reached the barn, several neighbors
were already there, wlth lanterns,

“Is be dead?” 0116“1 the Jlldge, rushing into the
building. _

“Yes, judge, he broil-Tiled his last a moment ago,“
a grizzled old farmer said-

The udge knelt by the body. with an audible
groan. is face as white as death.

“Frank! Frank!” he gasped; and then buried his
face in his hands, and shook with emotion.

But there came no answering voice.

Death had stolen away the “s .ert of the young
man. and left behind but the chi] mg, lifeless cla .

he eyes. wide open and glaSSY. gazed straight up-
ward. accusing] . ,

For several minutes, the judge remained kn 361mg,
and during this time, the other spectators stOOd by,
maintaining a grave silence.

Finally, hOWever, the judge arose. and said:

" This is iSel'l'ible. it is the worst blow l have ex-

erienced since the death of my wife. Who, in all
this community, would have rudge enough against
Frank to have perpetrated thIs fearful crime."

“ Alas! we know not when we have enemies among
us," old farmer Norris said. With a wise shake of
his head. " When did you see Frank. last?”

Just before dark. in Ma le Lane, not far from the

Run, quid-“for lm’p f"
" Why, didn't you do

Gyps CEmP- ‘3 and ph Were there, conversing
toget er."
I
l \. i ’
’15.," “1" ,

 

“ Where is Ralph now?"

“ I do not know. He generally spends a good
share of the night at ———.”

The judge then turned to Sam Slabsides.

“ Who are you, sir?” he demanded.

“ My name is Sam Slabsides."

“ \V here do you live i"

“In the winter, I blacks boots, in Philymedelf .
In the summer, I traVels in the country, doin‘ o d
jobs for my livin‘.“

" You are a tramp, then?"

“ S’pose that‘s w’ot big-bugs would call me."

" Do you belong to the Gypsies?”

“Naryl I travels on me own hook."

“ You found my son here?"

“ Yes. I was up at an old house. ’bove here, 'fore
the rain. Intended to hang up my but there, fer
the night, bllt spanks skeered me out, an‘ so I cum
down here. The soft side 0’ a hay mow struck me
as bein’ a snap, an’ 1 come in the burn, an‘ get on
the mow."

“ \Velll"

“\Vcli. I lay awhile, without gittin’ aslec . Bymc-
by I hecrd a groan—then, another ‘un. ' hen, I lit
yonder tin lamp, which i found up at the spook-
iouse, an‘ I found yer sou layin’ there.”

“ Did he speak to you?"

“ Not wi‘ his mouth. I axed him could he speak.
an‘ he shook his head. ’l‘llen, ho sed, in (leaf an'
dumb signs: ‘l‘ve been murdered; run, quick, fer
help!’ Then, I 1th "1 him didn‘t he. do it ilissclf. Iie
sod ‘ No! no! quickl run before I diel‘ So you bet I
lit out. lively.“

:: ‘Iéid‘he tell you his name was Frank Jamison i"

I O

“ Then. how did you know it .9"

“I sce'd him up by ill). pond. at sunset. lie was
goin’ ill swimmin‘, but he sI-e’d me sittin‘ on the
fence, an‘ wouldn‘t go ill. Guess he was afraid I'd
steal his shoesa-but i wouldn‘t. \Ve had a talk, nu‘
I found out his name.”

The judge turned to farmer Norris.

" box-rs. you take charge of tilts lad, and keep a.
close watch over him, till the in nest to—mcrrow.
ills testimony may be valuable. \V e willtake Frank
home, and hold an examination, at ten. to-lnorrow.

“ Very well, sir. Bub. you Come along home with
me," the flil'iii-‘i‘ said.

“All right. S’pose you‘ll give a feller somethin’
to eat, Won’t ,vcr, fer I hain't bin feediu‘ high, sent-o
I struck into this valley '3"

“ Yes, you shall have all you want."

So Sam accompanied farmer Norris to his home,
one of the most substantial ill the valley.

The other neighbors raised the corpse from the
barn floor, and forming a strange nocturnal proces-
sion. wcnded their way down the road, toward
Larchmont. Judge Jamison stalking along in front,
grim and silent.

Was be thinking:

“Well, the barrier has been removed, and there,
is nothing, now, to prevent my union with Dolly
Denning."

if his t'iought did not run in such a train, he could
hardly regret that the hand of the assassin had done
its work, that dark night: but, stern man of the
world though he was, it must be that he wished
those staring glassy eyes would once more sparkle
with the radiant light of lifel

CHAPTER VlI.
anvnxno'rz‘li‘s (our.

Wrrn an author‘s priVIiL‘FEG. We will make a slight
and necessary retrogression, for all the incidents of
that (wentful night have not yet been chronicled.

Some two hours revious to Sam Slabside‘s hast
Visit to Larchnion , the judge sat alone in his hand:
some parlor.

His daughter was out calling at a neighbor's, and
the servants were all in their quarters at the rear of
the house.

The windows were open, and the lights burning
with medium brightness. and the judge, his chin
resting on one hand. appeared absorbed in 8. rev-
erl’n

A man came down the dark road, and paused in
front of the house.

it was Gril Uuyandottc. the Gypsy,

His face wore a s.nister expression, and his eyes
git-alni-d cunningiv.

From where he had paused a good view of the in-
terior of the parlor was obtainable, and Judge Jami-
son could bH seen sitting ill his easy-chair.

After satisfying himself that the judge was alone,
Guyandotte steallhily entered the lawnstepped u on
the iazza, and in a moment stood within the par or.

A ow laugh on his part caused Jamison to look
up, and he immediately afterward Sprung to his feet
with an oath.

H Yu/ I” he uttered.

“ 1:” Guyandptte declared. “ Don’t you darel"

This. as J amlson‘s hand made a move toward his
pistol-pocket f_c r a weapon.

Jamison desisted. He caught the gleam of some-
thing gummy in the Gy sy‘s hand.

“ Sit down!"Guyam ottc ordered, helping himself
to a. chair—“orflrst. fetch out a. bottle of wine.
‘Tain't often I drlnk Wine, and when I do, I like. to
drink it with an 01 1 friend, and a gentleman. This
film of, rippling Over a bar is for common folk, you

now.’

Lennox Jamison crassed the room to a magnificent
ebony cabinet, and returned with a bottle of Monte-
hello and glasses, which he placed upon alittle stand
he wheeled between them-

Then he dropped into a chair.

"Well," he salt , “What brought you here?"

“ Horsetiesb, we 0 s and fate, I suppose," the
other re lied, nonc slantiY- ,

‘ By t e way. smoke! ‘and the judge laid a hand

.‘.
.~-“ " .. ‘
ma .riv.',,..t.,,'9.

 

In] of cigars on the table. “The ‘re good~you
know I always was a mart r to goo weed."

His unwelcome guest took too proflered cigar, at
the same time remarking:

“ And' so I find you here, Settled down like a lord,
in fancied security."

 \‘Vhy not? Is there any reason why I mould
no ? '

“Well, that’s a matter of question. Of course I
never expected to see you again, but blundcl'ed ac-
cidentally against you. Others, you know, might
do the same."

“ llahl" .

“ Ohl well, of course I don‘t say it to frighten you.
You didn't use me and the boys quite right; still,
I hear (you no particular animosity. ‘

The isagl‘eeablc expression upon Jamison‘s face
did not indicate that he placed much faith in the
latter assertion.

He took a pad of paper from his pocket, wrote
upon the front page, tore it off, andhandl-d it to Gril
Guyandotte.

“ In ('onvvi‘sing, refer to numbers," he said; “ for
Vou nillst be aware that 1 am not alone in this
house.”

Gilyandotto regarded the paper with a peculiar
sun c.

“I seel” he said, dryly.

“ You ought to. You have it plain enou b. Now
then. what reason have I to feel conceruet i"

“Well, in the first place, in our wanderings last
summer, We turn k a little town in Connecticut,
where Number One once IIV('(I, and I found out that
he had been back there within a couple of cars, and
found out considerable more than he had 'nown be.

fore."
“ The deuce!"
“ Yes Well, i icked up what I could, and found

there was not a p easant prospect in store for a cer-
tain arty, if ever found.”

“ IO onl"

“ I am high-cock-a-lorum of the Gypsies. and I
sought to get on track of Number One, and by
dint of luck, more than good management, suc-
col-dell."

It  I”

“You bet! I kept on track, and though he led
us a queer journey, we rospcred, and I was never
without some tidings of im, though he had no idea
of anything of the sort."

"And yoll have kept track of him to datei" Judge
Jamison cried. excitedly.

" Yes—that is. until quite recently."

“ "Were is he new I"

“ What would you {live to know?"

The scowl deepened on the judge‘s face.

" So, "HI/'3 your racket. lsit?" he gritted.
you’ve come to the wrong place to work it."

"Psliawt you talk crazy. I never met a villain
yet, bllt what he was suspicious."

“Sir-r-hl”

"Oh. excuse my intimation that. you were a vil-
lain. I kuow better. I know on to be a model
gentleman. So am I. Ostensib y a wandering Bo-
hemian, I can be as fine a gentleman as ever graced
adrawing-room—ay! have been, and you know it.
Ihave not yet lost my faculty of filling old gaps,
though I‘ve led a checkered life. Who was it. though,
who gave me the position of brakeman (from which
I was advanced to associate manager) on the great
incline road. over which the passengers are nine
times out of ten taken but one way—down-hill? I
don't think you yvould have to rack your memory
much to remember."

“Enough of this. air!" Jamison cried. angrily. “I
seriously doubt if the arty lives, or, if living, that
you know anything of iinl."

“ You are welcome to your doubts."

” Where is he, then? ‘ll give you a thousand dol-
lars to put me on track of him i"

" Agrecable always to money consideration. I ac~
cept the offer. But, you will have to wait a day or
two, until I send my time-tried scouts to ascertain
his exact whereabouts. Calculating time. I do not
think he can he more than twenty miles from here

“ If so,

now. So, when I locate him, I shall expect my
money "

“ And you shall have it."

“Very Well. I will take you at your word and act
acoordingly.“

'ii‘lhere was a brief silence, and then the judge
sa ( z

“ What of Two and Three?"

“ i know nothing about them. The world has swal-
lowvd them up, I guess."

“ Better so," was the remark that followed,
grimly
“ l, Idon‘t know. They were not to blame. It
Was a damnable deception. and I wonder on live
to-da y to remember it. considering that at t an very
time you had a trusting wife and child living.“

Jamison grated his teeth.

His eyes flashed fury. and he would have tried to
kill the cool Gypsy oppodte. but for fear of being
killed himself.

“I saw Four to—day. aim. much to my surprise,"
Gril Gu andotte went on. triumphantly. “ Of course
I knew er, for she has not changed. except in size.
Judging from what I know of her residence, it would
not be a hard matter to find Fivel

“'l'herel don’t get mad, judge. but let your PM“
sion cool off uptii You are in a fit condition to con-
sider. Then haVen‘t a doubt vou will be read to
agree that, if used right, I will be alwavs a‘r ght
bower. I‘m back for camp, now "—riling— ‘ and
don‘t worry° we'll fix things all right—but quietly.
you know. If you meet me in the camp. of course
we are strangers. I suppose I might take this Monto-
bello along, eh i"

“ fest” grufliy. “ and this, too."

 

  

 

'8

 

 

The judge drew a roll of bills from his pocket as
large as his thumb and forefinger could enc1rcle, and
tossed it on the table.

"Thanks! [’1] not forget you." Guyandotte said,
and “it’ll left the parlor with eyes that scintillated
like diamonds.

The judge was left alone to his reflections.

CHAPTER IX.
SAM “s'ramss ’ii.s."

8AM SLADSIDES would have doubted if it was his
best policy to accom any farmer Norris home, had
he not taken a and en liking to the gray-haired
old man, who had the general appearance of sturdy
honesty, seen in but so few.

Nothin' in particular was said, until the twain
reached t e farm-house.

Here Sam was conducted into the large, airy
kitchen, seated at the table, and liberally supplied
with rich milk, bread anl butter, and a whole lus-
citlifus pumpkin pie, with the command to help him-
se .

Then the old farmer seated himself and lit his
pipe, while nodding his head rather mysteriously.

‘ Yes! yes! it’s a strange thing," he said, slowly,
“ a strange, strange affair.”

“What’s strange?" queried Sam, with his mouth
full of pie.

“This murder. Frank Jamison was a nice young
man and highly esteemed by everybody. Who
could have‘been cowardly enough to have raised
their hand against him, surpasses my comprehen-
sion. There in not a young man in the county who
could hold a candle to him in point of uprightness of
character."

"Yer don‘t say! Guess, ‘cordin’ ter that, his bro-
ther sire kind 0’ a black sheep?“ Sam suggested.

“ Yes. Ralph is more Wild, spirited, and reckless.
I would not have thought it strange if it was him
who had been murdered. for he drinks. and am.
bles. and has been in several shooting affra s. ow-
ever, it ain‘t established whether it is rank or
Ral h who is dead."

“It hain‘t?"

“By no means.
prove it."

“ Why so?"

“ Because Frank and Ralph were exact counter-
parts in every articular. In face, in form, and
mannerisms, an in dress they were just alike. If
one had a photograph taken, there was no use of
the other one sitting, for the result would be an ex-
act duplicate. So positively were they alike that the
judge took pains that their attire and jewelry
should correspond, to a dot. Their hair and eyes
were alike, and the former combed alike. They
were of the same size and weight, and one could not
be told from the other, except that Frank was of
more quiet, easy temperament than Ralph, and that
Ralph had a likin for wine, cards and hunting,
and a distaste for emale society, where Frank had
not."

“Pher that‘s funny. Then, they’ll have to ax
the t'other brother whether he’s livin‘ or dead i’"

“ They will have to take his Word, to a large ex-
tent. as to whether he is Frank or Ralph, and judge
the balance by observation of his habits. So if the
one that is living wanted to play off that he was the
other, it would not be a hard matter by any
means."

Sam had made up his mind to keep mum, for the
present, about Frank Jamison’s attempt at suicide,
until he saw how matters turned out.

“Say! how about the racket up at the old house
on the hill?" Sam asked as he finished his sup er,
or breakfast whichever it might most a propriate-
ly be terme . “What sort of acircus 'ye call it,
an how?"

armer Norris smiled.

“Well, now, you’ve asked me a uestion hard to
answer," he said. “John Van Ge der commhted
suicide there three years ago, and since that time
there‘s been 5 ,me curious rumors about the place,
and no one could ever be tempted to buy, or rent
the premises. Two or three families moved there
first along. but not a one of ’em stayed a week out."

“ Durned ef I blame 'em. I was gOin’ ter hang up
my hat there last night, but changed my mind pritty
sudden."

" Why :0?"

“Well, in the fu’st place, I wisited the parlor, an’
re’d ther notis. an’ See‘d where Van Gelder s ilt
himself inter kinngm come. While i was stant in’
in the middle 0’ the room, a-viewin‘ ther sitywation,
some ornery mean rabbit hit me smack 'longside
the jaw, that made my teeth chatter. I looked
around quicker than a Wink, an‘ I'll be hanged ef
there was a soul near me.”

“ You don’t say!" _

" But I do tho , an’ I‘ll be skinned fer a shed of I
ain‘t 'vin‘ et to w straight.”

“ ell! well! hat next?"

“ Waal, I went ter nosin’ ’round, ag’in, an’ I heerd
a screech that made goose-quills rise up on me head.
Then I tnk chairs out on the peazzer an’ sot down.
Then I tried another inVestigation, an’ when I cum
back, the chairs hed bin tuk back inter the parlor,
an' put where I got ‘em from. Then ther‘ wer more
shrieks an' yellin‘, an' I concluded to light out, fer
better 'commodations. So I hit the barn, an’ run
outer a corpus, or purty near one. Durned of I
ain't a reg'lar red-combed rooster fer gittin‘ inter
scra es.“ _

“ t would appear so. These mysterious. things
have been going on at the Van Gelder manSion. for
so long. and have time and again so baffled investi-
gation, that no one goes near there an more except
strangers, for many believe the dew! as char e of
the lace. Van Gelder was a hard drinker, an not
well ed. The Jamison boys were his nephews-

And it may prove difficult to

 

for I suppose you don't know that they are but
ado ted'sons of Judge Jamison?"

55 ().7

“ Well, they are. The old mansion belongs to
them, but is of no salable value. There are many
who believe that Van Gelder left a fortune when he
died, but no trace of it was eVi-r found."

" Was Frank and Ralph good friends?"

“ Yes—the best of friends. 1 never heard that they
had a quarrel.”

They conversed awhile longer and then Sam said:

“ I hain‘t told ye quite all, Mister Norris,an’ if you
won’t sa nothin’, I‘ll tell ye sometliiii' else that's
happene . Of course, 'tain‘t a secret, but I want a
chance to consider, before I give the matter away
to everybody.”

“ Go on, my boy; I will do as you wish.“

“ Well, you see, since I started out on the tramp
this Season, I‘ve bin travelin’ snucks wi‘ an' old
blind beggar, named Felix Jacobi.“

“ A blind be gar?”

“ Yas—blinr as a no-cycd bat. He an’ I met,
compared notes an’ be allowed lii-‘d like to hoof ct
along wi' me. i 0 we made a bargain, and set out.
Yl‘l‘ see, a few years ago Felix was robbed of a for-
tune by highwaymcn, an' vitriol was throw in his
eyes destroying his sight!‘

“ orrible! horrible!“

“ Well, I should smile! You see, (previously, J a-
cobi’s home had been broken up, an other money
of his appropriated, by a distant relative,_ and Felix
lays the later crime to this same man—is positive
’twas him. So, since that time he’s bin wandering
around the country begging, in hopes he will yet
run across this man. He sez ef he ever hears his
voice, he will know him. I. took a notion to the poor
old chap, and so hev helped him along all I could.”

“ You are a noble-hearted lad, sir—you are to be
most highly commended. But, go on."

“Wei , ye see, Felix an‘ I struck the spook-tra
to-night together, and allowed et would e agoo
place to ut up, and git out o’ the rain. 80 I left
Felix sett n’ on the eazzer, while I went inter the
house, to size up the commodations. When I come
back—wasn‘t gone over twenty minnits all told—-
Felix was gone!"

“ Gone?”

“Yes, he was. I was skeered, an’ ’tween flashes
0’ li htiiin’, I searched the hull premises, outside
the ouse, even lookin round the bottom of the
bluff. but couldn’t find no trace 0‘ him. Then I
found a tin lamp, lit it, and ex lored the house
friim cellar to garret, but nary a F elix could I find."

“ Why, this is certainly strange."

“Lain me fer a lobster, ef et ain‘t. No, sir, I
couldn’t find Felix nowheres, an’ lied to give ct up
as a bad job."

" Why, surely he must have wandered away l"

“ Don‘t b’lieve nothin’ o‘ the sort. He wa’n‘t that
sort uv n hair-pin. Allus when I. told him ter wait
fer me, he did et, jest like pie. Thor wasn‘t nothin’
crazy ner one-boss about him, and lie wern‘t fond
o’ maltzin’ around alone, for fear he‘d break his
nec .‘

“ Then how do you account for his disappear-
ance?"

"Dunno. Looks queer as a cat on er clothesline.
I‘ve got an idear in my head that ther ghost bizness
is all skim«milk bosh, and that there's some sort of a
gang hangs out there, an’ they collared on ter Felix
fer some purpose or other.”

“ Oh! I guess not. Folks did think that once, but
a close examination of the house and grounds was
made and nothing was discovvred.”

“ W0". then. I‘ve been floored wid another idea.
Mebbe old Felix‘s enemy lives around these parts,
an‘ got wind of Felix bein’ in ther vicinity, an‘ kid-
nap ed him.”

" her’ might be something in that. What was this
enemy’s name?"

“ Milo Mitchell 1"

“Milo Mitchell, eh? Then I can answer that no
such person lives within twenty miles of here, for I
know the names of every inhabitant of the town and
county.

'* But it ain’t likely Mitchell would go under his
own name.”

“ Perha s not.“

“Well, 'mgoin‘ to find old Felix of I have to send
ter Philamedelfy for the hull detective force," Sam
said with determination. “ I ain't the sort uvaslioe-
blac ’ as would sneak off an’ leave an old fellcr like
him in tronble. Nix-eel”

“ A good resolution, Samuel,and one well worthy of
support. I am much interested in the case, an as
lon as you remain in this neighborhood you must
ma 'e your home with me, and will do what I can
to assist yon. I have no one but my hired help, and
like oung company."

“ 11 right, bOSS. Just as lief put u here as any-
where else, and I'm much obliged fer t e offer."

A little later the conversation began to lag, and
telling Sam to lie on a comfortable lounge. In the
kitchen, Mr. Norris Went off to bed in another part
of the house.

Sam did not immediately lie down.

He sat for some time in meditation.

Then he thrUSt his hand in his pocket and drew
forth the letter he had found in the cellar of the Van
Gelder manSion.

" I had fOFEOtten all about this," he said, survey-
ing the superscription on the envelope. with one eye
partly squint d. ‘~ Lennox H. Jamison, eh? That
must be the chap they call Judge, and who looked
at me as tho‘be weren’t favorably impressed Wl’
my senatorial aspect. Wonder who‘s bin writin’ to
the judge, an' how the letter cometo be where I
found it?‘,’

He tore away the envelope and unfolded the half-
shcet of paper it had contained.

 

 

v7

The next moment a strange cry burst from his
lips—a cry of commingled Joy and surprise.

And little wonder, for this is what he read:

“ LENNox H. J AMISON, «lim- MILo Mi'ranLL:—

“ If you do not call upon me at once, and pay me
the hush-money on promised, I will have you and-
ed in jail before went -f0nr hours more pass over
your accursed head. mean Quaint-*8 now.

“ Jonx VAN German."

“ By the holy smoke of sacrifice!" burst from
Sam's lips, “ I’ve struck ile snre‘s there's muscle in
a. mnle’s hind legs. Ag‘in oes it occur to me thet I
never goes anywhere but what suthin’s to pay,
Jewhittaker! here‘s ripe old news for old Felix, ef I
only knew where to find him. He sed he thought he
wasn't fur from his destination, an’ he was right.
Glory hallelujyl I feel like er comet or a mornin'-
star!“

And it was evident he did, for he sprung to his
feet and danced about the room, flourishing the
letter in the air, while his eyes gleamed with excite-
ment.

Remembering clearly and concisely the story of:old
Felix Jacobi’s life, as it had been told him, it was not
strange that the sudden discovery developed by the
letter set him in a triumphant mood.

1 Finally, however, he ceased his gyrations and sat
( 0WD.

“Samuel Slabsides, coming senator," he said,
“you’re arrived at er period in life when yer orter
make some sort 0’ a splurge thet would win yerself
fame an‘ fortune, an’ git yer name inter politics.
Thar is various avenues for reachin’ fame, but ther
majorit nv ‘em leads ye ti‘l ye fetch up behind iron
bars. het ain’t yer ambition, by a long shot.
Here’s er opportunity for constertoot yerself inter a
detective an' do ther honest Injine by old Felix, who
can‘t tell flies from blackberries when he’s eatin’.
Yes sir-eel here’s a ripe chance fer ye ter show ther
kind 0‘ kids Philamedelfy erdooces, an‘ make a
high~toned willain pull down is sails ter Ihe tune o'
the Rogue’s march. It‘s settled—by gum l it‘s settled!
Dig yer head, Sam’l, an' henceforemost ’stonish ther
nation by showin‘ ’em thet ye'r' a son 0' Justice. a
cousin ter Law, an‘ the every-day mash uv ther
Godess 0‘ Liberty. Hip! hip! hooray!"

And unable longer to restrain himself, Sam gave
the cheer with a vengeance that speedily cans-d
farmer Norms to pop'into the kitchen.

“Wh , boy. what on earth is the matter?” he de-
mands . “ Have you one crazy?"

" Ile! ile! [ile I" yell Sam, dancing about. “I‘ve
struck ile, an’, by cracky, she‘s a sewn-hundred-
har’l spouter. tool"

CHAPTER X.
ms: INVESTIGATION.

WHEN the next morning had dawned over that
beauteous Kentucky valley, the rumor had widely
Spreald that Frank Jamison had been foully mur-

ere .

Quiet and unassuming as his habits had been,
Frank was Widely knewn, much of his popularity
coming from the fact that he was a decided favorite
among the ladies, both old and young; and what
power can make a man famous more than the gen-
eral esteem of the tender sex?

At Larchmont Ralph Jamison had not returned
until three in the mornui , and then in such a stupid
state that he was scarce y able to get into the li-
brary, where he fell upon the sofa, and into a state
of oblivion. .

No one went near him, exce t one. _

Judge Jamison had retire to his room: Jes'le
was in her apartment, grief-stricken; t )8 servants
of Larchmont were in the kitchen in g m aiid 10W-
tom-d conned—and Doctor Kendal , of the n. ighbor-
in r town. \ylio had been summoned by the servants
w en JesSie swooned, kept watch over the body of
the dead.

A young man in years and practice. he was yet
the Jamison family physician and a friend to the
ho S.

6 had offered to watch over the dead, and the
offer was not refused.

It was Kendall who had let Ralph in, seen his con-
ditfion, and guided the drunken unfortunate to the
so 8..

Then Kendall took a chair. Sat down, and studied
the liquor-inflamed faCe. For minutes he would 8115
thus, then he would spend similar time in the grand
parlor, where, u on a white-covered double table.
lay the body of t e murdered man.

The face and hands had been cleansed. and the
neck-wound covered over. Otherwise, accordin to
the law, the body Was in the same condition as w en
found.

Kendall spent the hours intervening between three
o’clock and four in this singular observation of the
two persons.

But at last he ceased his flitting movements, and
shook his head as if in doubt.

He did not do this until he had examined every
pocket of the drunken man, and found nothing.

The dead man’s pockets had been searched, with
a like result.

After finishing his scrutiny, Doctor Kendall sat for
some time in a eep study. then be 1)}‘epared a pow-
erful li uid mixture. small in quantity but numer-
ous of ingredients, and forced it into the drunken
brother’s mouth. _ _

He then laid down and 8-Walted for the coming
of morning. .

Day dawned cold and gray. considering that it
was summer, and the sullen appearance- 0 the sky
seemed to indicate there was in prospect asteady
rain of several days‘ duration.

The household at Larchniont was astir early, and,

 

    

 
 

Isiah“..-Mtv:~irfirvwa; ‘ 'x- '  v a 

‘ ~.' '-_»-~~""aa *er :tgisl V» «an  

Sam Slabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective. 9

 

 

 

before he left, Doctor Kendall got Ralph Jamison
out of his drunken stupor, and took him in where
his brother lay white and rigid in death.

That Ralph was shocked and horrified was evident,
y[tint he gave away to no outward expression of emo-

ion.

He appeared to utter a silent prayer Over the
dead; then, with a groan, he turned and walked
mechanically from the house.

The morning passed ra idly, and when the time
arrived for the coroner's inquest, at least a couple
of hundred people gathered at Larchmont, eager and
curious.

When the county coroner arrived, a jury was at
once impanneled, and the body of the murdered man
was viewed.

The crowd then ad ourned to the big hay-barn,
where it was thought est to hold the inquest.

The premises were viewed. and a new discovery
made, namely, that there was a trail of blood from
the highway to the barn!

Therefore it was evident that the murdered man
had been attacked while walking along the road.
although there were no other signs than the blood of
a desperate stru gle having taken_plac_c.

After some litt e delay the examination began, and
Judge Jamison took the stand.

His name was Lennox H. Jamison, he stated, and
he was the foster-father of the deceased, and like-
wise of the brother of the deceased. the two floung
men being known respectively as Frank and alph
Jamison.

Was the judge positive that the murdered man
was Frank, and not Ralph?

Yes, he thought he was, although he could not
swear to it, as he had not questioned his living son,
nor had anything been found on the murdered
man's person to identif him, and it was a well
known fact that the brot ms were exactly alike.

Were the two brothers on friendly terms?

Yes. entirely so.

When had the judge seen them last, together?

The night preVious, near the Gypsy camp, where
the were conversing.

ad he seen them later, separate] ?

Only Ralph, this morning, when e was recover-
In from a spree.
d yad the judge any idea who committed the mur-
or

None whatever.

Farmer Norris testified that he had been aroused
from bed by a young lad, who had stated that there
was a murdered man at the barn—Frank Jamison.
[the boy hadgone on to norify Jud e Jamison; Nor-
{ls and his hired men had hastene to the barn, and
found Frank Jamison b eathing his last.

Some other like testimony followed and then, Sam
Slabsides was put on the stand, and told substan-
tially the same story as on the previous night. He
was cross- ueslioned, by the coroner, but nothing
was gained it.

" This boy 15 rather a doubtful character l" J udgo
Jamison said, “ and is the only one who seems to
know much about the mysterious affair. Therefore
I deem it necessary that he be held in custody,
pending a further investigation.

‘f You will have to secure a warrant for his arr st,"
said farmer Norris, “ and in lhat event I will go his
bail, in any amount. So there‘s no practical use of
bothering the b0 . It is not at all reasonable to
suppose that the {my was concerned in the murder."

‘ don’t know about that. ‘It won’t do any harm
to make sure. You seem to have taken apeculiar
interest in the vagabond. Norris?"

“ So I have. He is a worthy youn ' lad."

" Well," the coroner said, after octor Kendall
had testified to the cause of young Jamison‘s death,
“is there any one else who knows anything about
the matter?’

‘f I’ve got suthin’ to sav ” a rough-dressed fellow
said, step ing forward. “ ‘111 Jim Bilks, an’ I work
fer l’risci a Tanglefoot."

“ Well, sir?“

“ \l'ellxlate estcrday afternoon, I was mowin‘ in
n 1M" '3 mm t 0. lane, an’ nigh the cottage, when I
St“"‘1_D0" Dennmg 1111’ Ralph Jamison comin’ from
the direction 0‘ the Gypsy camp. an’lsee‘d one. o‘
the GypS Softer ‘10 l-Zm’ ’em. 1t ’roused my curios-
ity,]‘ up” I bid by 6 fence to see what was the
me 'e .

“ Will. Sll‘. hOW d9 50% know it was Ralph Jami-
son who accomname Miss Denning?”

“ ecfluse, When they 8'01? 0 posite me, the young
man sed he gueSSed he won] n’t go no mam.“ an'
Doll sed I‘m evcr so much obliged to you, Ralph,
goo -afternoon;" then She burned on, to the cot-

‘6 e11?"

“ Well. when Ralph turned to go back. he saw the
Gypsy standing behind a tree. close by. Ralph
made for him an’ demanded who he was. Gypsy
sed he was Gril Guyandottc. Ralph wanted to know
What he meant by dogging hlm- GY 3y said he

wasn't do ging—that he had come or a walk.
Ralph end: as told him he was a liar. and (ll'aWiDga
pistol, 1d him to get back to camp. or he‘d puta

b“1‘°‘.thmush him. and to keep away from the cot-
tage. If be valued his personal safety. The G 3
went» bu“ he looked as if he could murder flpfi
with asood will. That‘s why I reckon it’s Ralph
that's murdered. an’ not Frank."

"Id" POE believe it. Frank never drank and
Ralph. d‘d-’ JUdSO Jamison spoke up. “and Ralph
came “,‘,' this morning. in a beastly state of intoxi-
cation.

“Where is he now?"

H He is herel' 8' "Pic? cried, and the young inebri-
8“ walked unsteadlly Into the coroner‘s presence.

His 368 were bloodshot, and he looked rather
Mesa

 

“Are you Ralph Jamison?" the coroner demand-

c .

u I am."

“ Where were you last night?"

“ In R—, playing cards and drinking."

“ \Vh' n did on see your brother, last."

“At Maple one, just at dusk. He was angry at
the judge who he claimed had robbed him of Dolly
Dcnning‘s affections and iiinde threats upon the
judge‘s life. So great was his anger, that he left
me. and walked rapidly toward home. I followed,
slowly. I passed Larc fluent, and went on to R—,
but saw nothing of Frank about the house."

“ Is this story about your encounter with Gril Guy-
andotte correct?"

it Yes.7'

" Then there is no longer any doubt but what the
dead man is Frank Jamison?"

"None, whatever."

"Have you any idea who could have committed
the crime?"

“That question can better be answered at court.
I could not give an opini. n at present, as I might be
dead wrong."

The coroner then charged the jury, and they
agreed upon the verdict that Frank Jamison came
to his death through the fatal effect of three dagger
wounds, administered by a party or parties un.
known.

When the verdict had been rendered, farmer Nor-
1i;is arose to depart, but Judge Jamison called him

ack.

“I have ordered Constable Sager to arrest this
boy, Sam Slabsides, on suspicion of having been
concerned in the murder, and shall take him at
once to R—-—for a hearing. If you propose to go
his bail, you had better go along. ’

And so to R— the majority of the crowd went.

Sam Slabsides was taken before a magistrate, and
had a hearing.

It is useless to recount it here.

He was rigidly examined, and gave precisely the
same general story he had told a the inquest. All
the cross-examination failed to divert his testimony
in the least, and the occasional witty answers he
glaive, or his outlandish pliraseology, won him many

l‘nds.

Nevertheless. he was bound over to court in the
sum of two thousand dollars: bail.

Being rich, farmer Norris leasantly qualified
with bail bonds, and Sam was re cased.

The sugestion having been put that Gril Gn an-
dotte mig it have murdered Frank Jamison, be iev-
ing him to be Ralph, a warrant for his arrest was
promptly sworn out, and the constable and a, pot-5e
of men sent to arrest him.

As soon as Sam‘s had was fixed. he and farmer
Norris set out on their return to “ Honoybrook," the
good farmer‘s home. .

It mi ht as well be added, right here, that Norris
knew a [about the letter Sam. had found, for the
youn , tramp had shown it to him.

“ I 6, he!" Norris chuckled. as} they trudged along
the dusty road. “Jamison trletl hard to get you
committed to jail, Sammy, but old John Norris has
got as much power as ho llflf‘."

f Yes. an‘ ye‘r’ thobesll ll'llv‘mu 0"” had."Smn T0-
I’lN-‘di gratefully. "I‘ina swearin’ senator if I won't
make it warm for his judgcshlp, 'foro I‘m ninety
your old. D‘yer know, I believe he knows where old

‘elix is?"

“That’s what I think, and that 'lle has caused him
to_ beiint out of the way. knowing that you were
w1tli "clix, and fearing that '0“ might l(110W tUO
much, he wanted to get (you Into jail on a serious
charge, where you woul have no power to harm

mi.

“ By jinsol TImI‘x it. you bet. But he didn’t
come it, did he? Nix-eel A_n’ now, when I git my
detective machine workin‘ right, there‘ll be a s'prise
round tlieso diggin’s, eh?”

“Yes, my boy: but we shall have to go slow—“v0
shall have to 0 slow. I'm your friend, and will
help you what can; but we most plan well before
we pitch in. There is no doubt in my mind now but
what Milo Mitchell is a desperate man, and your
movements must be guarded With extreme caution.
Ii Jamison or Mitchell really suspects you of know.
mg an)lthing of Jacobi's stol'Y. and that you have
an eye on him— the judge-filo will not hesitate to
Not mischief against you. T110 first, and only thing
to he done, seems to me. is to find Jacobi."

“ Yes," Sam assented, thoughtful] —“ that‘s what
is on the bill for first act. What wil foller will licv
to be found out by ‘sperience."

His head was full of jostling thoughts in connec-
tion with his new detective enterprise, and it was
liable to take some time to get them straightened
out so they would run smoothly. Once he succeed-
ed, he surely had grit and push enough about him to
make something out of the case before him.

CHAPTER XI.
THE CONFAB IN A CORNFIELD.

Tm: party that left R———, headed by Constable

gl-r, to visit the Gym): Camp. did not meet with
the success they had anticipated-

On arriving at the cam v _1hP.V_ found everything

uiet and orderly, but their Inqml‘y f0? Gril Guyan-
gotte was met with the aSSPIjthll that Gril was not
in the camp, had not been Since daybreak, and that
nothing was known of hi? Whereabouts since.

Nevertheless. a thorough SBM'Ch _Was made, and
Jim Bilks, who had come along to identify Guyan-
dotte. failed to find any One resembling him.

So, in order to get, further orders from the sherifl,
the party returned to R—-—-: the con table, however,
ordering the G psies not to. move from their eu-
camptment out” further notice, under penalty of
arms

 

 

The fact that the Gyps was not lo be found at
the. camp. seemed to in icate that he was hiding
somewhere, and if hiding, why, unless he was guilty
of the murder?

Accordingly, the sheritf had a reward notice posted
at every approach to the town, and for miles around
during the day, and the excitement ran high.

Numerous parties, c0vetous of the money offered
for Guyaudotte’s capture, started forth in search of
him. and the surrounding country was scoured thor-
oughly, but without result.

At Honeybrook fami, Sam Slabsides put in the
balance of the day quietly, aftcr returning from

In under the shade of a great oak tree 11 ion the
lawn, he lay stretched out upon the grass, )usying
his brain both with conjecture, and forming plans.

110 had made no attempt to visit the Van G-‘lder
mansion, for one of the scouting parties had gone in
that direction, and he concluded he had better keep
away from the place, for the immediate present, at
an rate.

h oward evening, farmer Norris called him into the
ouse.

“ Sammv, can you ride a horse?” he asked.

“ (.‘an ll ‘ eXclaiim-d Sam, “ well, Ishould murmur
and blushl Why, I‘m a reg‘lar daisy-bender, you
bet. Used ter ride in a circus, couple seasons ago,
till the show bu‘sted, an‘ I had ter fut et home.
Don‘t know much ‘bout ther good p‘ints uv ther
anymile, but I kin ride like a reg’lar ranchero."

“ Vci well. I want you to ride over to R— and
mail alener for me, which i forgot to do today.
While on are there, get yourself a serviceable suit
of clot ling. shoes, shirts, a hat, and whatever you
may need. If there is any money left, you can keep
it for pocket change." V

And Mr. Norris laid a stamped letter in Sam‘s
hands, and on top of it a fifty-dollar note.

Sam's astonishment can better be imagined than
described.

“ Why—why I don’t wanter take thisl" be said.
“ These 'c-re togs are big enough for me."

“ No, they are not. You are deserving of better
ones, and you are welcome to the money: and now
3111113}, so as to get back before it is long after

or .

After thanking his benefactor gratefully, Sam
went out to the stable, where he found a saddled
horse in waiting for him in the charge of one of the
farm hands.

Mounting, Sam galloped away toward R— in
high spirits.

When he reached the town, he first of all visited
the post-omoe and deposited the letter, the n, he set
about making purchases.

“ Thar ain t no sorter use 0’ my making a dudn
out 0‘ myself by sportin’ around in expensive tugs,"
he argued, “an‘ so I’ll go lightly an‘ have some
money left."

Accordingly, he was judicious in making his pur-
chases, and when he was so iplied with a suit of
clothes, shirts, collars hose, s ioes and but, he still
had over twenty-five dollars left.

Hiring an cxpressmaii to deliver the articles at
Honeybrook farm, be next sought a hardware store,
and here purchased a revolver and cartridges, 3
bull‘s-eve lantern and some strong cord.

The clerk, who had been present at the hearing,
looked doubtful when Sam asked for the articles.

“ I don‘t know as l have any bl siness to sell such
things to you," he said. “ What do you want them
for? Are you going to start forth as a highway rob-
ber, or what i"

“ I‘m goin‘ ter start forth as ’llhal f“ sum replied
good-naturally. “Just you toss out the articles, an
your cash is ready.”

"But, I want to know what you are going to do
with them?"

“ Well. if you waiitcr get down that fine, I don‘t
mind telliii’ you that to vindicate my character. I'm
goin' ter hunt up (lril Guynndotte, who is accused
of the murder. Thar ain’t no noose goin‘ around this
senatorial speakin‘-tuho of mine—not if I know it.
5”. Glll'undotto bein’ a dl-sprit character, I s‘pose I
might lave lo face him with a steel muzzle."

The argument favored Sam, and he got the ar-
tit'lcs he desired,

lie then remoumed his horse, and rode back to.
ward Iloiieyhrook farm.

It was not his intention to stop at the farm, but to
go on to the van Geldcr mansion, and there subject
lho place to another careful exploration.

Ho changml his mind, however, and stopped at
the fai‘ni long enough to stabl - the horse, and tell
farmer Norris of his proposed venture.

“ You had better be careful, my boy," the farmer
said, mlvlsingly. “The place. as you know, is sur-
rounded with mystvry, and there is no telling what
trouble you may get into.”

“ The more the merrier," Sam replied. “I’ve got
a ‘po ),- and if the ghosts come skylarking around
mew: 0;; will get all the cold lend they need asa
tonic. Guch ther ghosts won’t git no chance to
crack me alongside the jaw to-night_noc at I know
myself."

So. after supplying himself with some matches
Sam left lhe farm-house, and took his way toward
the alleged haunted mansion.

He had not gone far, when he heard a girlish voice
call out:

"Sam! Sam! Is that you?“

"You hf‘t W5 tho: but who and where are your"
Snm re 119d PIN-ml: about him inquiringly. for It
was so ark he could scarcely see ten feet before
him.

A moment later his qurrv was ansWered, in the
she e of Floss,the Gyps girl appearing before him.

“ OW. (‘0 you see w )0 I am?" she Bald. With 9
musical long i. “ I had a premonition that you

 

 
 
 

 

f 10 Sam Slabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective.

 

 

would come this way to~night, and I’ve been watch-
ing for you for nearly an hour. Ohl isn't it awful
about the murder?”

“Werryl” Sam assented. “There is a myst’ry
about that thing. an‘ a deep one, too, or my Sena-
torial brain ain‘t in workin' order. Where is Gril
(invandotte?"

“ That is the very thing I came to see you about.
Are ou my friend? ‘

“ re I? “’0”, Iguess. You and I are too good
‘ookin' to be enemies. Fer instance, jest size up my
Henry Clay phiz, and tell me ef I look like a sweet-
sccnted sardine as wouldn’t fight his finger-nails oiI
fer a purty little dame like yourself.“

“Then if you do like me.l will tell you some-
thing." i‘ioss said, with childlike simplicity. “Gril
Giiyandotte wishes to see you.”

“Wants ter see me .2"

U Yes.$‘

“ What fer?”

“ He will make that known when you meet him.
He is hiding, but Sam, it was not Gril who killed
Frank Jamison."

“ How do you know?"

“ 1 do n t know, more than that I believe his word
next to Gospel. Although to the world a Gypsy
and at one time in the wrong, he has now reformer
his habits, and leads a life withoutablemish. To
him mother and I are indebted for many kind-
nesses.”

“ Keercctl He‘s the very chap I wanter see.
\Vhere is he?”

“ Yeti will not give him up?"

“ Not if he is a friend of yours—iiix-oe’.’ So lead
ahead. I‘m on the war-path, gunnin' for points,
and all I want is a. look at Grilly, to size him up.
Where is he?"

“ Come with me and I will show you."

They walkeddown the road. until they came. to a
large cornfield, in the vicinity of the, barn where the
murder had been committed.

Climbing over the fence, they walked down one of
the aisles, until they came to one of the center fur-
rows, following which they Soon came to where
Gril Guyandotte sat upon the edge of a corn-hill,
his jetty, gleaming eyes distinguishable in the dark-
nuss.

When. by a touch on the arm, Sam Slabsides was
made aware that he was near the Gypsy, he opened
the cap of his lantern, and caused a flood of light to
descend in the pa. h ahead.

The light was so suddenly produced, that Guan-
dotte sprung to his feet, with an unintelligible ut-
terancc.

“ It is I, Grill” Floss said. whereupon the Gypsy
assumed a less defensive attitude.

“ Is this the boy?" he demanded, scrutinizing Sam,
keenly.

"This is the identical chap," Sam responded
good-naturedly. " I am Samuel Slabsides, the slab-
sided future senator from Slumgulllon. What dcr
ycr wanter inter View me about?"

“ A matter of importance." Guyandotte replied.
“Sit down, and turn that light lower. I see your
broadcloth will stand dirt.”

Both Sam and Floss became seated upon the corn-
liills, and with the lantern in the furrow between
them, the trio made rather a. weird group.

. “ Yes, my to hev made the acquaintance of dirt,
before this, ef Isknow anything about it," Sam said.
“ ’Tain‘t bin one o‘ my misfortunes ter sleep on the
S')ft side of a mattress, very lately. Good everyday
hemlock barn floor has stood in fer me, wi‘ once in
a while a sprinklin’ o’ hay. fer sheets. But ther
river is clear 0' boats—so sail ahead. What der yer
want with me?”

" I wanted to have a talk with you, regardin' the
murder of the young feller. A warrant has been is-
sued for my arrest has there not?"

“ I believe there has;anyhow there‘s bin some tall
huntin‘ for you for the most 0’ the day."

“So I am aware. But they .(lldll‘l', find me, nor
they wouldn‘t have taken me alive, if they had. For
I had no hand in the murder, and I don‘t intend to
be hauled up for it.”

” You didn't commit the murder?"

“I did not."

“Well, then, what are you hidin‘ fer?"

“ Because, sus icion having pointed toward me,
from the simple act that one of the Jamison brothers
quarreled With me, I deemed it necessary not to ex-
pose myi-ielf. Being a Gypsy, and consequently
one of a. class of peo 1e that are none too wel
thought of, I was ten. ul that were I to be caught
lynch-law might be brought into play.”

“ Mebbe it would. The people mm 11 on their
dignity. You kin bet yer life, an‘ wouldn’t
give much fer the murderer’s chances, when he’s
found." .

“That was what I presumed. So I kept out of
sight; Have you any idea who committed the mur-

er?

“Dunno as I have, in partic‘lar,—that is, none
that I’d want to sling around loose, jest at present."

“ Still. you have an idea?"

“Mebbe.”

“And so have I, my young friend. I want you to
take me by the hand and believe that I am your
friend. an then we will set to work together, to
bring to justice one of the worst villains that was
ever a disgrace to society. \\ ill you do it? I am no
murderer, although up to a coupli of years agoI
leda wild and not altogether an honest life. TWn
years agoI changed my habits and although I still
remained a Gypsy, I have since led a life beyond
reproach. To the. truth of this statement, Floss,
here. will certify.” .

“Yes, Gril is telling you what is so.” Floss said.
“He has been very kind to mamma and I.”

“That settles it, then," Sam said. “Et you say

 

so, thet’s all ther insurance I want, you betl So put
’er vhar, mister, an‘ el‘ Sammy Slabsides can do ye
any good, he‘s yer mutton, ev‘ry stew."

"GoodI" Gril Gtiyandotte cried, putting out his
hand, and warmly shaking that of the younger Bo-
hemian. “You‘ll lose nothing by accepting of my
friendship. I don‘t sup ose you have any idea that
I have b-Aen cognizant 0 your every movement, for
the past two months, and that at no time has
our Gypsy camp been more than twelve or fifteen
miles away from you?"

" Git outl"

“ It is true. I have had s ies keep track of our
route, from day to day, ant report to me at n lit
and we have arranged our route according? N;
f “Ye don‘t say sol An' what hev ye done t at

er?”

“ So as not to lose track of the blind beggar, Felix
Jacobi."

Sam gave vent to a prolonged whistle of sur-
prise.

“ D’ye know him?" he demanded.

“Not as a. personal ac uaintance, nor does he
know me. I know of him, owever, and of the man
who was the cause of his ruin.”

“ Then, you’re the very hairpin I want to see—jest
the worry old pompadour pin. Kinder struck me I
hadn‘t got ther luck ter start gunnin’ ‘thout hittin’
a bird. So you know thcr story 0’ Felix's misfor-
tunes, do ou ?”

” Yes. 0 you ‘3"

"Zch, I reckon I do. At any rate he told me about

“In the main. he no doubt told you a. correct
story. But there are some parts in which, Idare
say. he erred."

“Dunno ’bout that, I‘m sure. Felix ginerally
spoke dictionary facts.”

“ Of course, but «you the most truthful of eople.
often make sad mistakes. Now, where is Elie old
man?“

“That‘s the very thing I want to know. He's
missing. and I’ll bet he’s met with foul play.”

Sam then went on and narrated the circumstances
relating to Jacobi’s mysterious disappearance.

“ Floss has told me of this," Gril said, when Sam
had finished, “ and I agree with you that some
secret disposal has been made of Jacobi. Are on
aware that his enemy and the direct cause of al his
Hoe, lives scarcely more than a stone’s throw from

ere.’

“ You mean Milo Mitchell?"

5‘ Yes-99

“Kerect. I know where he lives. Ho’s known
around these ’ero arts. as J udgc J amison."

“Exact! . An on Jacobi‘s hard-earned money
he is play ng of! gentleman. I know it, now, but
until yesterday I had no idea of his whereabouts. I
then saw him driving through the lane, but he
didn‘t see me. Last night. I paid him a visit and
we had a little talk, during which I gave him several
little remindch that I was not any too friendly to—
ward him. Finally, lie made me an oil'er of money.
“'1 would put Felix Jacobi out of the way. I al-
lowedI would accept. it, though at the time I had
Eotd the slightest idea of doing anything of the

In .

“Then, it don’t look as if Jamison had had a hand
in Felix’s disappearance, after all.”

“ Don‘t deceive ourself, on that point. Knowing
that Felix was in he vicinity, and ascertaining that
he was not with you, I naturally took the one that
something had happened. So, last night—previous
to the alarm of the murder—I visited Jamison at his
home, and made known to him t‘ at Jacobi was in
the neighborhood. bent on revenue. I sized up his
surprise—rather, his assumed surprise. and came to
the conclusion that he was not so much surprised as
he let on to be. Floss, here had previously told me
of her meeting with you and of your missing Felix,
and of course t did not require much then ht, on
my part, to lead me to suppose that Mitchell tad be-
come apprised of Jacobi 3 coming, and adopted
stringent measures to provide for his summary dis-
posa .” ‘

Sam wliistled again.

“ Say, lookee herei" ho ejaculated. “ be on a col-
lege rofcssor. or a walkin‘ dictionary? T iem jaw—
brea lots 0’ yourn don’t correspond wi‘ yer profes-
Sion.‘

Guyandotte smiled.

“ I was not always a Gy sy," he assured. “ Once
upon a time I moved in tie Society of upper ten-
dom, but it did not benefit me, for it was the cause
of in making a move that took me down hill. un-
til I id not amount to much in the eyes of honor-
able people. Once down—and, you will do well to
remember it, my boy—it is a hard thin to rise.
And thus it was. with me. I was ashame to make
the effort. after once going astray. So I joined the
Gypsies and am now the hadrr 0f the party camped
in the lane—a. more respectable set of wanderers
than whom it would surely be hard to find.

“Since I have reformed, I have undertaken to
right the wrong that I was party to, several years
ago. With that view. I never wholly lost track of
Felix Jacobi, after he was blinded. I believed that
sightless though he was, he would eventually find
Milo Mitchell. and I was not wrong. After many
wearisome miles of wandering. he came so near to
the lair of his enemy that I was able to lay my e as

upon that enemy; . And having done that much, tis
['1

my intention to rig matters to ajust endin . Re-
cognizing your assistance to Jacobi. asa gul e, it is
an honor to know you and therefore I propose that
we work hand in ban . to the end of seeing that the
fearful outrage visited upon Jacobi by Milo Mitchell
be avenged.

“ Keerect, old stockin’ l That‘s Where you hit me
for a home run!” Sam declared. “‘Tain't often I

 

 

       

tackle enter hullsale (partnership, but when I do, I
freeze faster than a ape May crab. So go ahead
w1‘ er talkin’ masheen. an’ let‘s heer what ye think
is t er best thing ter he did, under the circum-
stances. I’m wi’ yer fer any kind 0‘ sport, from a.
torchlight parade, to a funeral procession!"

And Sam turned the li 'ht of his lantern a little
brighter, and waited for éuyandotte to proceed.

 

CHAPTER XII.
MORE nrsrnnv.

“ WELL, I do not know exactly what plan of action
to advise, just yet,“ Guyandotte said, after some
deliberation, “because We neither of us know just
where. Jacobi is, or what has happened to him. If
we were positive, as regards these points. it would
be a far easier matter for us to lay our plans.“

“That‘s so. I’ve got it fastened ter my noddle,
tho‘, that Jacobi is liid ’round the haunted house

remises, and I sha‘n‘t give up that opinion until

’ve made the trap another vestigation. I was
goin‘ there when I met Floss.”

“ Are you not afraid to go there alone?”

“Nixeel I’ve got a revolver, an’ of ther hosts
come foolin' around, I’ll give ’em plumbago y the
ounce."

“Floss was tellin’ me about the ghosts and their
_vocal manifestations. That’s all nonsense. There
is no such thing as ghosts!"

“ That's what I thought, until ( ne of ’em hit me a.
sockdolager alongside me jaw; then I changed my
tune from A to ll-flat, w iich was purty near bein’
flat—fer when I lookl-d ter see who had struck me, I
couldn‘t see no one.”

“ So Floss told me. But there is no such thing as
a ghost. It stands to reason that the manifestations
at the mansion are wholly human. and your idea.
that Felix is a prisoner about the premises is quite

lausible. In order to make apos-iitive move against

Iilo Mitchell, with any degree of suCCess, we will
have a great deal to contend with. In the first.
place, we will have to locate Felix Jacobi. and, in
doing so, use the utmost caution, in order that I be-
not discovered, nor that J amison’s sus icions be
aroused that in» know of Jacobi‘s wherea outs, lest
he put the poor old fellow entirely out of the way.”

“Then you don’t think he has caused him ter be
killed?"

“ No. The terrible job he did out west must nat~
urally have preycd so upon his mind that he would
hi‘sitate to actually commit iizurdcr. It is far more
; robable that Jacobi is held as a. prisoner."

" But where Y”

‘fThat's fer us to find out, if we can. It appears
quite likely that, as he disappeared up at the man»
8101]. he isn‘t far out of that neighborhood now ."

“ It looks that way, I know. But Floss and I ran-
sacked the place from top to bottom, without find-
ing anything."

“ Even so but that does not gainsay that another
search mig t not result in a discovery. There is
likely some secret apartment or other arran ements,
that, if thoroughly examined, would exp ode the
ghost business. I 1 teen ht I would not be in dan-
ger of being discovered,
now."

“ Dunno how that would be. You‘ll have to run
your own risks. There might be some one up at,
ther old ghost-trap, an’ ag’in there might not.”

“ I think I‘ll go along with you anyhow, I am

armed, and not afraid to face the music. if it comes
to that. Floss, you had better go back to the
cam .
d‘l‘ E)0, I am going with Sam," the girl said, spirit-
e y.
“ Yas. Floss an’ I is paras,” Sam spoke up, "an’
I want her tci' go along. ’

So the trio set out.

A considerable part of the way to the foot of the
bluff. on top of which was located the mansion,
could be traveled by way of the cornfield, not neces-
sitating gel ting out into the high way.

The night was prett dark. however. and when
they left the cornfield t ere was not much danger of
their being seen. _

“Who do you think killed Frank Jamison?" Sam
asked of the Gypsy, as they hurried along.

“ Well, if I were to express an opinion. I shouldn’t
hesitate to point; my finger at ll ilo Mitchell. I hear
that both were rivals for a girl‘s hand in marriage.
and Mitchell is a man who hates to be balked. and I
don’t think he’d hesitate at any crime, where a.
pretty woman was concerned.”

“It struck me he might know es much erbout it:
as an one else. But how’s er fellcr ter fasten it.
onter him ?"

“ It will not be an easy matter I can assure you.
He has power and influence, and we have neither.
Were he to get me into jail, he would center all his
power against me, to secure my convxction, you may
rest assured."

They'reached the base of the bluff in due time,
agd tailed up the precipitous path to the level
a ove.

Though the deserted mansion loomed up grim and
forbidding, the loom was not as dense as on the pre-
vious ni ht, an there was no lightning or thunder to
add to t e uncanniness of the situation.

“Now, then, ef the screechin: will begin we‘ll
try an’ kee our hair from stan’in‘ on end l" Sam
Slabsides eclared. grimly: “ So sail in, Mister
Ghost. an’ split yer bugle from ear to ear."

They cautiously approached the house, which
prefiented the same appearance as on the previous
nig t.

When they stepped Upon the veranda. Sam
paused to II his his lantern, Floss keeping by his

ide, asthoug she deemed him her natura PTOECC-
or. ‘

would accompany you

   

 

  
 
 
 

Gril Guyandotte, how ever, stalked on into the great
gloomy hall, fearlessly.

“Let him go!" thought Sam. “I‘d rather snort
ef he'd git lambasted alongside the jaw l"

A moment later. a startled and fierce cry was
heard, and the Gy sy rea. pearcd, in hot haste.

“Hillo! what’s t it: deficfitelty?" Sam demanded.

“Quick! bring the light!" Gril gasped, drawing
his reVolver. “ Some one struck me, curse him I"

They hurriedly entered the hall. and Gril led the
way into the parlor.

I ere Sim turned on his light, at full head, and
flashed it about the room.

But. although they all gazed searchingiy about,
the offender was nowhere to be seen, nor was there.
any obstacle in the room behind which a person
could be hidden, without. risk of detection.

“ He‘s gone. curse himl” Gril cried vengefully.

“ Who?” demanded Sam.

“ Why, the man who slapped mel“

“Git out. It wasn‘t no man. I got slappt d in
the same way, last night, an". on looking around iii-
stantly, there wasn’t a soul in the room. There‘s no
way 0‘ gittin" ’round et, Gril—ct were a ghost that
hit you, an’ be kin hit like a prize ilglite r, too."

“Ghost be hanged! There is no such thing as
ghosts! Give me that lantern!”

He took the light, and examined the room care-
ful] ‘.

l e sounded the walls. and the floor, looked lic-
hind the pictures and l‘urni’ui'e, and finally uttered
an execratioii:

“lt beats the (levill” he declared. "There‘s no
explanation to the mystery in here, that I can see.
Coniel Let’s proceed. I there's any secret coni-
partments to the house, yo can bet 1‘“ find them i“

" Ef you (10, yr eyes will ave to bo sharper than
I think they are." was Sam’s 0 union. " I‘m bettin’
I kin look as fur inter a bowl 0 eyester soup as any
one else, but I've been left on secin‘ thereyester,
many a time. But, steer ahead, the boy. Mebbe
you‘re more of a fi'l'i'lt than 1 take yer tei' be."

They went over the same course that Sam had
pursued the night before, visiting the remaining
rooms on the first floor, then exploring the cellar,
and iinall the upper stories.

The cel ar, in )articular, Guyandotte spent some,
time in examining, but nothing was found to indi-
cate that the place was not all born: JIV/n cellar.

Three hours of rigid examination of the premises
supplied but one re-ult—that of deciding there were
110 590?“ compartments. cellars, or other places of
concealment, where one or more persons could exist
in hiding.

“Well, I’m satisfied on one print!" Guyandotte
announced, finally, when they had gained the piazza
once more. “ Old Jacobi is no prisoner around
the remises."

“ e ain‘t?"

“ Not much! He has been spirited away. Our
search has been so thorough. that, were he secreted
Efrefibouts, we should hove been sure to discover

m.

“I don’t know about that. How d’yer ‘count fer
the slap on yer aw ?"

“That? Well—well, that is the only thing that
mystifles me. It must be some erson was in the
room and dodgt (1 out. before I con (1 see him."

“ Thet langwidge an’ logic mlght work on Feget‘s.
an’ sech like. but I don‘t tackle to et, fer a cent.
When I got slapped, I wheeled around quicker’n a
cat could wink er eye at a sprin chicken. an’ I was
all alone. I tell ye, I believe the‘p ace is haunted, an‘
ther ghosts aire like cannibals—allus on the gobble."

"Nonsense. There are no ghosts. Neither have
I heard any of their vocal manifestations yet,
either."

As if to give the lie to his words. there pealed
forth, at this juncture. a shriek so blood-citrdling
anél1 awful, that cVen Guyandottc started, With an
on 1.

“Thar! now ye hear it!” Sam cried in triumph.
“That war the ghost gittin’ up on his mad. cause
you ’lowed he wai-n’t er co’pomtion by hisselt‘. Or,
mebbe ye think et was or Thomas Cat, or some
strange angel out serenadin’."

Guyandotte did not anSWer, but drew his revolver
again. and looked at it to satisfy himself that it was
in Working order. ‘

The yell of the disturbed spirit, whether it was
embodied or disembodied, had sounded down from
above them, and it was plain it had not been uttered
from the ground floor._

“ You Stay hi‘re mm the light!" Gril ordered.
“ I'll be cursed if I don’t find out what the racket is
before I leave the house.

He pulled off his heavy boots and left them on the
piazza. then, with his wen on in a firm rasp, he up.
toed into the hall, and t 0 last seen 0 him he was
going u stairs.

Sam labsidcs chuckled softly as the Gypsy disap-
peared.

“Just wait a bit,” he said to ,Flpss. “E! the
spooks don‘t skeer the life out 0 him et will be a
queer thin to me. I tell yer." ”

“ I hope 9 won’t get into trouble. Floss replied,
“or turn u missin , like Felix did. for without him
mother an I won] fare badly. He has been very
kind to us, sir."

“ Ohl he’ll not git lost, like Felix, fer he’s gone up
above an' there ain’t any way fur him to get down
excel) by the stairs. Et he don’t come own ’em
three at a time, I’m off my guess.”

Just then from the u per and front portion of the
house there broke fort a wild, demoniac laugh. as
if some one were in triumphant glee over something
that had happen. (1.

“Guess Gril must be ticklin‘ ther ghost!“ Sam

ested.
“15%111 maybe the ghosts have captured hlml"

 

 
   

 Warner ,

Sam Slabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective.

 

‘»   w, 'O',‘ we ,  a. iu,"".-‘-""“
as. l   ,

11

 

 

 

Floss added, clasping her hands anxiously. “ Ohl
what would mamnia do if Gril were lost?"

“ Don't fret, Floss. Ef the fellcr don't come back
purty soon, we‘ll go and investigate."

Then they sat down on the steps and waited.

Five minutes passed.

All remained silent within and without the man-

men.

The stillness finally grew so impressive that Floss
laid her hand upon Sam’s shoulder.

“Ohl Sam,” she said, “1 fear something really
has happened to Gril. \\ on’t you go see?"

“Wait a bit. He hasn‘t had time to look into half
the rooms yet. He’ll be down putty quick.”

But fully five minutes more passed without the
seeing or hearing anything more of Guyandotte;
then Sam did not offer to delay any longer.

“Come!” he said. rising. “Well go up and see
what yer Gypsy friend is up to, anyhow."

They entered the hall, and with the lantern to
guide them, ascended the stairs.

At the top of the first flight they paused and lis-
tened. but could hear no sound of footsteps, nor, in-
deed, any sound at all.

“ Mebbe he's layin‘ in wait fer the spooks," Sam
suggested, although. in truth, he was not free of
misgivings as to Guyandotte‘s strange absence.
“He want‘s ter hear where the yell comes from,
so he kin blaze away. We‘ll see which room he‘s
in."

They visited every room and looked into every
closet of the second story, but Gril was nowhere vis-
ible.

The then ascended to the third story and began
their investigation there.

And it was only when they searched the last
room that Sam‘s hope gave way to unbounded sur-
prise.

Guyandotte was nowhere to be found, nor any
trace of him.

He was not in tho second storyl

He was not in the third storyl

What did it mean? _

Had he been ni': steriously swallowod up, the same
as old F lix Jaco 1?

“Oh, earl Ch. dear! Where is Gril?" exclaimed
Flossi, wringing her hands and almost crying. “I
told you SOlllCthlllL' would hap en, Sam!”

Sam puckered up his lips an looked puzzled.

“ Yer can set me down for a red-hot stove-lid, of
there ain‘t something all-fired queer about this mat-
ter,” he replied. “Mebhf‘. tlIO‘. ,we’re cryin‘ afore
the milk is spilt. Gril might ’a’ tip-toed down-stairs
cn’ goin‘ ter searchin’ ther rear 0’ ther house,
’thout our hearin’ him. Comel"

They hurried down-stairs far more anxious than
when the had ascended.

When they reached the ground floor, a glance
showed them that Guyandotte was not on the
veranda.

The lower rooms were then all subjected to a
fiearch, but to no purpose; no Guyandotte was to be
ound.

Thoroughly excited, DOW, Sam rushed to different
parts of the house. and called the Gy sy‘s name,
hut in vain; the echo of his voice was al the answer

e got.

“Ohl dearl ohl dearl" Floss cried. “what shall
We do——ohl sir, what shall we do? ’ and she burst in-
to tears. ,

“What shell we do?" Sam replied, as they once
more sought the piazza. "WHY-,1 Ii’Posei you‘ll do
what you‘ve allus (lone, won’t e? ’

“Ohl sir, but you don’t um ei-stand. There will
be trouble with tne Gypsies if Gril cannot be found,
You see. the majoritny them are not in favor of
mother’s bong their queen, “cause she has always
kept them from stealing. It was only because they
fear Gril that they haVe not turnedmother ofi', be-
fore this. If they find Grll has disappeared for
8'99“. we shall be. turned out of the camp, on the
pitiless world, friendless and Without means to help
ourselves!”

“Ye don’t say!" Sam exclaimed in answer.
‘:\Vell. if that‘s the racket. (lOII't lot it worry yer
little head. one bit. Et 111”? afac' as plain as or
elefant‘s nose, that Gril hrlf' disappeared, more ’steri-
ously then er hobgoblilin in a fair play, leavin‘ no
Choctaw trail behind him. The ain't sayin’ he
Won't be found, tho‘. 1111' if he ain‘t, d‘ye know
what I’ll do?"

.1 NO. ‘vhatYH ‘ ' ’

“ Why, 111 j,“ step inter (xril s cast-off mum, nn'
espouse yer mother's 0911150. by benl‘ boss of the
camp. myself. Mebbe Grd 8 palltaloons might be a
mite too plethoric fer my COPDOfOSity, but, when et
comes ter fightin', an‘ runnin er town, Slammy
Slabsnies is the werry chap fer bizness. But—hillol
D‘ e see thar? Gril's boots have also elo d!"

n entering the hour-1e, the GYPSY had left his boots
uPon the Veranda, as we have stated,

T ey had now as mysteriously disappeared “had
the bandit himself l __

CHAPTER x111.
THE GYPSY QUEEN,

Tm: astonishment of Sam and Floss, as they made
the last discovery. was unbounded‘ and they 5‘90“
for Several minutes staring at each other, in silence.

The boots Were certainly gone from where Guyan-
dotte had left them. and 88 Gr" had disappeared, it
was but natural to suppose that. whoever had cap-
tured him, had also captured his bonts.

“om this is terrible. “ hat is to be done. Sam?"
Floss asked, now the icture of despair.

“I'll be blamed et‘ ~hardly kn9W.” Sam replied,
rather dubiously. "Im a slabsided senator from
Slumgullion. ef this ain‘t ther ripest case fur ure
ninety per cent cussedness thet I ever got hol of.

 

Ther ghosts weren‘t satisfied wi’ gobblin‘ onter Gril.
but they‘ve scooped in his boots, in the bargain?
Don‘t ‘pear to me there‘s any use of makin’ any fur-7r
der search."

“ Whatl would you leave Gril, here, in the power"
of enemies, Sam? '

“Nix-eelrnot ef I could help myself. No more
would I leave Felix in ther same pcrdickyment.
But, what’s a feller ter do? Hain‘t wo s’arched an"
s‘arcbed, and found nary a hide nor hair 0’ either of
em?”

“ True; but it seems hard to leave them to an un-
known fate.”

“Fact, sure; but, what else kin we do? We mi ht.
jest as well set down an‘ suck our thumbs, as ex"
s‘arch any furder. Felix an’ Gril hev either evapor-
ated, an‘ gone up the. spout, or else they‘ve been
kidnap ed an’ tooken prisoners. Ef the latter's the'
ease, t ieir captors Will keep ‘eni hid so we can‘t.
flnd ‘em, you can bet {or bangs."

“Well, then, what 8 all we do?"

“About the best idea is fer us to git away from
here, before we get into a scrape, ourselves. I want
ye to take me to yer camp, an’ let me see yer mo-
tlier.”

“ What for?"

“Ohl I want to sm- lier. l‘vo ot kinder of an.
idea I can he] ) her. Yer Sec. old orris, where I‘m
puttin‘ up, might be persuaded to take you an‘ her"
iii, as housekee )ers. He‘s rich, an‘ what’s more,
he‘s kinder s ue. ' on me, an‘ guess he would do any-
thing i asked him ter.”

" Ohl do you really think he would take us in, 80--
We could leave the Gypsies?“

“ Yes, I do. He‘s a boss old chap.“

“ Then I will take you to see momma."

They left the bluff, and bent their steps toward.
the Gypsy cam .

Little was sa (1 on the way, for Sam‘s mind was.
so preoccupied that ho had no time for conversa-
tion.

When they entered the camp in the lane, Sam‘s:
eyes lit up with enthusiasm; camp-fires burned
brightly, reflecting a vivid glare against the sky.
and on either side wore the white, canvas-cowred
wagons. Flitting about in the firelight Were num-
bers of the dusky nomads: others were tucked away
in their wagons.

There were but three tents, the larger one
oflwhich evidently belonged to the queen of the-
tri ie.

The Gypsies eyed Sam curiously, as he accompa-
n’ed Floss into the camp, and t iey were nearthe
queen’s tent, when a man stepped f orward, and laid
his hand u on Floss‘s shoulder.

“My chi d," be said, reprovingly, “where have
you been at this late hour, agant" And there
was an angry scowl upon his Sun-tanned, beardlcss
face.

He was a tall, angular man, attired after the style
of a clerg, man of bygone days, and. at the ago of.‘
forty or t ereabouts, lacked considerable of being
of re ssessmg appearance.

‘ Le me gol Take your hard of! my shoulder,
Parson Jim l" Floss cried, with flashing eyes. “You
have no right to touch me, sir."

“Haven t I? Well, we will see about that, my
Sort miss: I happen to have charge of this camp,

Ul'lng Gril Guyandotte‘s absence and I intend to‘
rule as 1 see fit. Where have. you been?"

“To look for Gril, if you are so particular to:

knowl"

“ h yo have, ch! Did you find him?“
“ No.”

“ D‘ye know where he is?”

“ That’s my own business, sir. Come, Sam I" and
wrenching herself from Parson Jim‘s grasp. Floss:
hurried toward her mother’s tent, Sam ringing up-
the rear.

” Hold up there, boyl" Parson Jim cried, authori-
tatively. “Come here; I want youl"

“Do ye?" Sam flung back. “Well. you 0 heat
your brows with a brick-bat till I come bac ,” and
with this he entered the tent With Floss.

Peering out, he saw the
cam -fire, (Vitlt iitly to wait or him to come out.

W en Sam turned around troni theenlrance, he
found himself in the presence of the same. dark-clad
woman who in some as .yet unknown manner, had
wrought such violent as“ ation to Doll ' Denning.

The fortune-teller was now uniiias ed, however,
and wore no bonnet.

The light of a lamp upon a stand near her showr-d
her to be a woman of sonic forty years, and there-
were lines upon her forehead that betrayed her fa-
miliarity with trouble and sorrow.

Once she had been a woman of marked beauty”
and still retained her good looks to a consalerable
extent, for her eyi s were brilliant and her features.
of leasant expression. ,

aking Sam by the hand, Floss led him forward.

“Mamma. this is the oun gentleman 1 was tell-
ing you about." she said: “ am. this is my mother,
Queen Sheba." _

"I am glad to see you air.” the ueen said
tin forth her hand. " oss seems
lik ng to on, and her friends are my friends."

“ An‘ I m crackin’ glad to see you, ma’am, for you.
see, I an’ Floss make 3 111111 team. ‘cept she hadn‘t:
got as much nerve as She has good sense. 'Spose
ibe‘s told you 'bout things up at the ha’nted

ouse?"

“She told me about the singular disap unnee-
of an aged companion of yours. I don't t ink you
mentioned his name—dideou, Floss?" ,

“No, mamma. I told ril. first, and. he said 1d
better not mention the name." '

“ Gril did? Why, that, is strange. What wag:
your friend‘s name, sir?" and the Gypsy queen look.-
ed inquiringly at Sam

put-

aison sit down by a.

0 have taken a.

 

  

1

 

2 Sam Slabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective.

 

 

 

Sam hesitated, as if doubtful if he had better out
"with what he had to an or not.

“ Well," he said, fina ly, “ ef my calculations ain’t
of! their base, you uster call my old side-pardner
.husbandl His name was Felix Jacobi l”

The Gypsy queen uttered a startled cry, and made
:an attempt to rise, but sunk back upon her chair.

“ What!" shegasped.

" Jest as I sed," Sam replied. “Felix and I have
been a snucksin' it. sence snow went off. Tho‘t you
kll‘lw'd et, ‘cause Gril did.“

“ I have been aware that Gril was shaping his
route so as to keep on track of the poor old man,
but I did not Suspect lie was so near. And my sur-
prise is greatest that 1—”

“ That you should be ’spected by me, o' bein’
Felix‘s former wife?"

‘ Yes."

“Well, ye see, when Felix an‘ I set out on ther
tramp. he told me his story, an’I neVer fergot it.
So, as we trainped tt-rgether, I ke )t a weather eye
out, hopin’ We might run across elix's enemies.
When we got hereabouts, et turned out we weren‘t.
fur off track' so, considerin’ things thet have trans-
pired. au‘ what I’ve found out, an' puttin’ this an’
that together, I arriv at the conclusion that you
were Jacobi's wife, an' thet Floss was his daugh-
ter.’

" Indeed! You say you heard Felix Jacobi’s
:stor ‘2"

“ es’m; the hull yarn!"

“ Did it reflect any discredit on me?“

" He did not know that you were alive, until two
or three years ago. Then he learned that, instead
of bein' dead, you hed skipped ther tra-la-lanloo
‘wi’ Milo Mitchell.”

A groan of anguish escaped the Gypsy queen, and
'she buried her face in her hands.

When she once more raised her head, tears glist-
ened in her eyes.

“Great God in Heaven! what a hideous wrong
the scheming of one villainous wretch can accom-
plish!" she moaned. “Oh! boy, I have been fear-
‘fully wronged, I as well as Felix. Can you give me
:a brief account of what he told you?"

“ Guess so. tho‘ I ain’t much 0‘ a talker. Wouldn't
”a’ never learned how to talk, myself, ef it hadn‘t
been for my own gumption.

"But, for begin: Felix sed he went West, years
'ago. ter Seek his fortin’, an’ left you an 'two girls
behind. You had a payin’ store, an’ did non need
.for anything; so ther first few years he was in the
West. he didn’t Send any money home, but banked
it where he was. At the end of five years he sent ye
home ten thousand dollars, directin’ you ter deposit
,it to his credit, in the home bank."

" He did, and I acted according to his wishes."

“ Well. it wasn’t long after this that he got notice
from his cousin, Milo Mitchell, that you, your two
daughters, an’ his sister, had died 0‘ typhoid fever,
.and were buried in the family cemetery. Having
no ties now ter draw him immegetly back East, Fe-
lix sent Mitchell a good-sized check on the home
bank, ordering him to erect grave-stuns over yer

rave.

g " ‘Bout seven years later he started for the East
wi’ another fortune of twenty thousan’. He was
stopped by highwaymen, robbed an' the leader of
the gang put Vitriol in his eyes, which blinded him.
They then cleared out. but, as Felix remembers, the
voice ov the chief an‘ Milo Mitchell‘s Were just alike.
Well. Felix swore he’d have revenge. if it took him
all his life, and set forth as ablind beggar. For the
last few years he has wandered from place to place,
finally reaching his old Eastern home. Heer a sur-
prise, was waitin‘ for him.

" He learned the deaths Mitchell reported had
never taken plaCe—that Mitchell had enlarged the
check Jacobi sent him ter the full amount 0’ the
bank account, and that you and he had eloped, tak-
ing one daughter with you. His sister had also de-
cani )ed with the other daughter, 1111.! that was about
all that was known.

“ Still revengeful—more so now than ever—Jacobi
set out, in the belief that Providence, as he called it
wruld yet guide his footsteps for where he would
meet those who had wronged him. This spring I
met him, an’ we’ve tramped together sence till last
night, when he so mysteriously evaporated."

“ Disap cared, you mean?"

“Yas, t 0‘ evaporated hits it, too."

" Did Felix have any idea how hear he was to

9:7

" Yas. I think he did, fer he lied been sayin’, ther
past Week, that intuition told him he was iiearin’ the
end of his journey. This, I took it, meant his ever-
lastin‘ journey, fer the o d gent has been goin’ down
hill fast fer some little time, an‘ I didn’t ’spect ter
hev his company wry much longer."

A look of unutterable sadness passed over Mrs.
.Jacobi’s fac ‘.

“ Poor Felix!" s‘ e said. “God grant he may live
until all can be ex lained. And, now, my dear boy.

erhaps you won (I like to hear my story. It isn’t
Pong. and maybe on will not believe it. Lut, as God
‘is my witness. it strue.“

“ Of course I‘d like to hear et, ma’am. I ain't one
-o‘ them kind as will b’lieve all 0’ one side 0' a story
without hearin‘ t‘other side.”

“ You are very Sensible. My husband did go
‘West, as you have said. He was ambitious to ac-
quire a competeuc , and the gold fields offered the
most attraction. encouraged him. and he went.
I had a little store that brought myself and children
in a comfortable living, and there was no need for
him to send his earnian home. We correSponded
regularly. and all went well. After five years’ ab-
sence. he sent me the ten thousand, and it was de-
- ositcd to his credit in the home bank, as I was not
I1 need of it.

 

“Shortly after this. he wrote me he was about
to enter a mining syndicate, and needed every
cent he could get—or, at least, I supposed he
wrote the letter, until I found different when too
late. He told me to dispose of all we had in the
East, draw the mono from the bank and join him
in the West, bring Forence with us, and leaving
Dora behind, in Judith Jacobi’s charge, until she
should finish her studi s.

“ Milo Mitchell was named to help me, and to see
me safely West, and the check sent was payable to
him. my husband saying he could take better care
of the money en route.

"I had been acquainted with Mitchel] but a short
time. and knew nothing particularly about him, and
trusting implicitly in my husband’s good judgment,
I made hasty pre arations and we started.

“It was not til we were beyond the railroad ter-
minus, alone on the prairie that Mitchell made
known to me the terrible truth. My husband, he de-
clared, was dead, and the letter a forgery, per-
petrated by his, Mitchell’s, own hand, With a view
of securing the whole fortune. On leaving the East,
he confessed that he had caused to be left behind
undeniable proof that I had eloped with him, thus
havin ruined me in the eyes of those who had al-
ways nown me to be a true and honorable woman.
80, the only refuge left for me he declared, was to
settle down with him in the hVest, under another
name, and live with him as his wife.

"You can imagine my horror and indignation.
Of course I scomfully refused to accede to such a
proposition. and thereupon, he deserted us in mid-
prairie, without food or means. We managed to
get back to the bounds of civilization. where I sold
my jewelr , realizing enough money to provide for
our imme iate needs.

"To test the truth of the scandalous report he
had told, I caused a home paper to be sent to me.
Then I saw he had not lied. The papers (gave a
glaring account of the elopement an sai were
either of us to show our faces at that place again,
we would be tar-and-feathered.

“Of course I did not return home. I wrote to
Judith, but never received an answer. I wrote to
California, to Felix, but never got a word in return.
The trouble so wore on me that I think I should
have committed suicide, had it not been for Floss.
here. Finally, I met a schoolday chum, who had
turned Gypsy, and after hearing my story, he in-
duced me to join the tribe. 1 did so. As years
passed by, the tribe grew large and a division was
deemed advisable. It was made. and I was made
queei of the new tribe, which position I have since
occu led. ,

“ early three cars ago Gril Guyandotte jomed
us, andl lenrne that he had recently left Milo
Mitchell in the West. From him I ascertained that
my husband was not dead at all, and also was told
of the terrible indignity that had been prac-
ticed on Felix. Guyandotte, for some ears
previously to that outrage, had been Mite iell’s
valet. After that crime he was so he rifled that he
resolved to lead a life of_honor and re entance.
After finding me and hearing my story, ie joined
hands with me in swearing that Mitchell should Le
punished.

“ After much roving we got on track of Felix—not
until he had reached his Eastern home I owever,und
learned, as he supposed, of my infidelity. Lut
Mitchell we could not find. After getting on track
of Felix we never lost it. Time and again have I
prayed to go to him, get down on bended knees. and
try to convince him of my faithfulness, and of how
much we have both been wronged, but on every 00'
casion Gnyandotte has restrained me."

“ What for?" .

“ Because, he argued that tho propel-time had not
yet come for a reconciliation and rciinicii. ‘ Wait,’
said he. ‘and be patient. As sure as I believe in an
All-wise living, I believe that Felix Jacobi will, in
his wanderings, yet guide us to where Milo Mitchell
is living in luxury on his ill-gotten gains. Then,
vengeance and vindication can be accomplished at
one and the same time.’ So I deSisted, though it
wrung my heart to do so.”

" Then you do not know that Gril‘s prophecy
turned out 0. K?"

“Yes, I know that Milo Mitchell lives here, under
the aliax of Jamison. Gril made this discowry."

"So did I, an’, as sure as there‘s hair on a cat,
we'll make it hot fer the Judge, atore long!" Sam
declared.

He then went on and a prised Mrs. Jacobi of the
singular disappearance o Guyandottc.

She was greatly alarmed.

“Oh! this is so unfortunate!” she said, ex laining
the feeling in the camp against her an Floss.
“Parson Jim is in bitter enemy because I refused
to marry him, an be swore to-dav, if Guyandotte
did not put in an appearance before morning, he’d
drive us from the camp.”

“ He won’t have the chance!" Sam declared. mak-
ing the same proposal to her that he had to Floss.
“ i’m sure farmer Norris will take you in.”

“You are yery kind; but are you not exceeding
your authority? I could not think of going there
without being p0sitive that I would be allowed to
tender my services in return for our food and
shelter.” .

“Ohlthat would be all right. Without the least
doubt. fut, ter satisfy ye, I’ll go and see, an’ then
come back for you.”

‘:,Very well. We will await your return, anxious-

And so Sam Slabsides lef t the tent.

As he did so he saw Parson Jim skqu away into
the shadow of a wagon.

That he had been listening to the conversation car-
ried on within the tent was evident.

 

 

Sam set his teeth, grimly.
“ That clia is a rascal!" lie muttered.
better not 0 er to harm them.”

CHAPTER XIV.
SAM sous FISHING.

SAM SLABSIDES went at once to Honeybrook farm,
and finding farmer Norris still up, apprised him of
all that had occurred since he set out to the Van
Golder mansion.

The farmer listened attentive! ', and when Sam
had finished he nodded his head 5 owly.

“Strange! strange!" he said. " We pass through
t‘~:is life with but a vague idea of what is going en
‘around us. Astounding villainy and horrible crimes
creep close to our hearthstones, and yet we are
oft imcs unaware of the fact-unmindfu but what
the world is as fair and peaceful to all others as it is
to ourselves.”

“ Yas, incbbe that’s so,” Sam admitted; “ but
thar’s a lien 0’ diff’rence twixt livin’ in luxury, an’
bein’ grow‘ up in the gutters uv a big city from ther
time ye’r’ the size uv a cigar stub. We gillies w‘ot—
wer’ fetched up in ther lap of an alloy, ’stead o' the
lap 0’ luxury, don’t ferget tbct thar‘s folks gitiin’
knocked around the world—not by a jugful! But
say—what ’bout Mrs. Jacobi an’ my chum F10ss?”

“ Bring them here, most certainly. My home
shall be theirs as long as the choose to remain, and
if this singularly separate family can be united.
nothing in the world will do old John Noms‘s hem-t
more good."

And so Sam went back to the Gypsy cam and
conveyed the good news to Mrs. Jacobi and oss.
and bundling up the few effects they had, they
started to accompany Sam from the camp.

They were interCepted? however, by Parson Jim,
who, with an ugly scowl upon his face, stepped in
their ath.

” old up, here!" he commanded, authoritatively.
“ May I make bold to inquire where you are going,
madam?"

“ I am going to leave camp. sir. You said if Gu -
andotte did not return before morning on won 0
drive me out. So I will save you the trou le."

“ You cannot go."

“ What?“

“You cannot go. I rule this camp, now, and mv
word is law. Return to your tent at once: and as to":-
this young ragamutiin—” and Jim turned to glare
savagely at Sam.

His expression changed, however, and he uttered
a broad oath.

This was caused by his discovery that a revolver
was leveled directly at him by the young tramp.
The weapon was cooked. too, and Sam looked as if
he would rather pull the trigger than not.

“ Say, 100kee heer, mister !" he cried, “ der e see
me gun? Ef ye do, an' ycr know which sit e yer
bread is buttered on. you’d better take a quiet
sneak! Mebbe Sammy Slabsides is a rag’mumn. an’
all that sorter thing, but he ain‘t afeard o‘ no long-
geared girafle like 1/011 .’ So you step aside, and lct
us pass. or by the great liigh-kickin’ Christopher
Columbus I’ll shoot the eyewmkers off’m you. Git .’
There’s not a minute to spare 1"

That Sam meant business, Parson Jim did not
seem to doubt, for swearing roundly, he stepped to
one side, and allowed the trio of friends to pass out
of the camp.

“Oh! i tell yer, when I git me dignity up I‘m er
reg’lar daisy—bender!” Sam chuckled, as the hur-
ried away toward Honeybrook farm. “Mob emy
senatorial phiz ain’t as classic as that o' the Jersey
Lily, but my inflooeiice is jest as sure ov the per-
Simmons.“

They reached Honeybrook without further inci-
dent, and here Mrs. Jacobi and Floss were so hum-t-
ily welcomed by the sturdy. big-hearted old farmer.
that they could not help but feel at home.

“ But he’d

 

 

Several days passed. . _

Frunk Jamisnn was buried. his funeral being one
of the largest ever known in thSe parts.

Neither Ralph Jamison nor Dolly Denning attend-
ed it, although the former spent an hour of silent
mourning before the coffin of l is murdered brother,
Prior to the serVIceS, which were held at Larch-
inont.

As for Dolly Denning she could not attend, for
when the heirs 0f_ the murder reached her. she was
prostrated With grief. and fever and delirium set in,
making it necessary for her to haie the attendance
of a doctor.

Doctor Kendall was her attendant. his services
having been provided by Judge Jamison.

Although the local authorities were wide-awake.
hoping to capture Gril Guyandotte. they were, of
course, unsuccessful.

Guyandotte was nowhere to be found.

This fact did not seem to dispel the belief that he
was hiding in the neighborhood, and would yet be
secured,

The general belief was that the dashing Gyps
was the murderer, and should he be found, there
were large chances that he would never be given a
legal trial, but would be hanged to the most con-
venient tree. _
t_An;l, what was Sam Slabsides domg in the mean

ime

Practically nothing.

it was not because he was _not eager to proceed
with his case. but because he did not know just how
to se'. to work in a way that would entail any cer-
tainty of success.

He flit'ed here and tlierenabout the reighborhood
seldom putting in much time at the farm: he had
examined the Van Geldev' mansion twice by day-
light; he had lurked around Larchmort. and spotted
the movements of the Judge; but all to no use.

 

 
     

 

 

Sam Slabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective.

137

 

    

He knew just as much at the end of the four days
succeeding Gril Guyandotte‘s capture, as he had
known be ore—and no more.

The Gy sy cam still remained in the lane. by
order of t e sheri , while at Honeybrook farm, Mrs.
Jacobi and Floss had settled into their position of
housekeepers for the farmer, and they wrought such
a bright and cheerful change in the place that Mr.
Norris was more than pleased.

“ It seemed like old times, when Betsy was alive,
an‘ sprucin’ things up,“ he remarked, with enthu-
siasm; and as for Sam, the old man seemed to take
a keen interest in him.

Early in the morning of the fifth day succeeding

‘uyandotte‘s disappearanco, being tired of racking
is brain with thought, Sam concluded to rest him-
self with angling for some of the varied species of
fish said to exist in the Dark Pond. .

So he rigged himself a. rod, attached his line and
hook, secured some bait, and set out.

After wandering along the shore of the pond for
some time, he finally found a shady nook, just back
of Ivy Cottage, where he felt sure the fish would
bite.

 

Sam had learned from farmer Norris of the vin-
e ary nature of Priscilla Tanglefoot, and he con-
cFuded that before he began to fish, he had better
try and strike up a bargain with her, or there might

war.

SO approaching the cottage. Sam found the spin-
ster in a rear it" her. where she was v gorously mg.
ml ulating a. churn handle.

ghe stopped short, when she saw Sam, and eyed
him suspiciously.

“ Mornin‘ to ye, ma’am l" Sam said, dofi‘lng his hat
in true Chesterfieldian style. “ Be you the perprie-
tor 0’ this 'ere Garden 0‘ Eden?"

“I am the roprietress!" Priscilla declared.
am Miss T -ng efoot. What do you want?"

“ Tanglefoot did you say f"

I.  V5

“Jehul but that‘s a reg‘lar old daisy-bender of a
name, ain‘t it? Reckon yer aternnlpergeniter must
ha” bin a rail-fence contrac or, eh i”

“ None of your insolcnce, sir. What do you want?"

“Me? Why, I want to strike up a bargain wid
yer."

“ What kind of a bargain l" ‘

“ Waal, er see I spied a place back 0. yer house,
where I ca culated fish might bite. So bem’ a square
sort 0’ a rooster, I scd ter myself. 8(‘Z : ‘ Sam‘l Slab-
sides, at wouldn’t be right fer yer ter make a mo.
nopoly 0’ this thing, an' ketch all ther fish Wl'nut
dividin’ ther spoils, like ev‘ry Senator does. Fer
instance, heer's a poor lone Widder ‘—" .

“ Widderl" fairly screamed Priscilla. “ \\ by, you
impudent hussy, I in no widow. I’m a respectable
maiden lady." .

“ Ye don t so i" and Sam with difficulty choked
back a snort o laughter. “Why I thought you'd
been married. Ye look it. But. as I was sayin‘:
‘ Here’s a pviorlone maiden lady. an’ mobbe she hev
a tooth for fish ‘; am so I jest trotted u ter see ef 1
Own!” get yer consent ter let me sh, an' I go
halvers with ye."

“You give me half you catch?"

” Y‘es, that’s my way ov doin‘ business Wl‘ Wim-

“All right, sonny— o ahead and fish. You up-
pear like a nice. hones sort of a boy, and I'll send
you out a bowl of buttermilk, pretty Soon. Do you
like buttermilk?“

“You betl Ijest dote on ,et. An’ of ye should
make a mistake and put a hunk 0‘ bread into it, I’d
ogerlookpt, an' say you were a saint, or suthin’ o’
t 0 sort. ‘

And wih a laugh, Sam skurried back to the fish.
ing-vrounds.

‘I’m in luck," he muttered. “ I've made a mash
on the old maid. sia -dab. She didn‘t kinder sweeten
to my ‘ widder ’ me at. but I guess it’s all right, uni
I‘m solid fer the buttermilk.”

When he had fairly got settled down to fishing,
Sam found that he had not overestimated the spot,

The fish bit splendidly, and in an hour’s time. he
had called in quite a number of the tinny tribe,
some of which were bass full two lpounds in size.

Fishing was a prime sport, wit Sam and he be.
came so engrossed in his occupation that he was
unaware of any one being near at hand, until a

leasant voice caused him to look around and be.
Bold a young lady sitting on thegrass just behind
him.

Tue younglady was Miss Dolly Deming, and be.
side her, on the grass. was a little pail of buttero

milk. , ,,

“ Phewl hillil Sat}! ejaculated, staring at her.
“ I thought you WES Slc ‘

“You did? Why. {10W do you come to know any-
thin about me, Sir? ’

" hl I‘ve heard 0 y 011- Yer Dolly Denning, ain't
3'0“ 7" n

“Yes, sir. But who are you? and Miss Denning
re arded the b0 eagerly.

his was the first morning she had been able to be
cut of doors since the murder. thanks to Dr. Ken-
dall's efficacious treatment. She was looking ale
and wan, and there was a look of deep sorrow a out
her eyes and mouth.

2‘ I In Sam Slabsides," the young fisherman re~
plied. “ Onlesn you are familiar wi Senatorial
government matters, guess you never heard 0‘ me.
Glad ye‘r‘ sittin‘ better, the . ‘Spect Y" W“ it 01"“!
hard about Frank's death, eh?"

“It was agreat shock to me," Dolly replied. her
up uivering. ‘ But, you speak as though you knew

“Kinder reckon I did. 'Twa‘n‘t but a few hours
before I discovered the murder that he an‘ I hfld 0:
coniab over yender. cnou the lake.“

“I

 

” You did i"

u Yesim.l1
I “ Then, you are the boy who discovered the mur-
( er?"

" You bet."

“What were you and Frank talking about, over
yonder across the lake?"

“ Dumio‘s I orter tell you. Yer don‘t look well."

“Oh! tell me! tell mel I can bear anything now
for l have become reconciled to my loss. '

“ Ye liked Frank, then?"

“Ay! Iworshi ed him!“

“He didn‘t thin ' so. He found out that you was
givin’ ther jud e a show in ther aine.

“But I‘ll tel yer ’bout the la_'e. I found Frank
over yonder jest in ther act 0' glttin' ready ter com-
mit susanside."

“ \Vhat ?"

“ Yas, he was takin’ off his togs an‘ was goin' for
drown his sorrer in ther end. He got all ready
nigh ‘bout ter shufile off: t en, lookin‘ over here, he
raised his hand on high, like a Bartholdy statue an‘
sez: ‘ Oh, Dollyl Doll l Dollyl how c‘u‘d yer be so
cruel, when yer knew luved yer sol' or suthin’ for
that effect; then he spouted a lot about yer marry-
in' the jedge, an’ allowed he‘d give ther fish a square
meal by soakin’ in ther bottom 0’ the pond.

“Jest then, I, Sam‘l SlabSides, who was sittin‘ on
ther fence takin’ it all in axed him hed he any ob-
jections ter my ’propriatin' his earthly togs ter me
own use, nrtcr he war safely tered on t'other
side 0’ Jordan. When he see‘d me he got mad as a
hornet an’ concluded ter Hostpone the jOb. He tried
ter bribe me not ter te on him but couldn’t, an‘
that made him madder yet, an‘ mountin’ his horse
Be r‘id off like greased lightnin’ after a speckled

en. ’

“ This is very strange; I never gave him any cause
to believe but w at he was mV preference."

“ ’Pears he’d get et inter is head thet yer was
engaged ter marry the judge.”

“ I was forced into that promise," Dolly said,
growing slightly paler, “ but I never intended to

cop it, as Frank should have known. Do you
think. then, that he committed suicide, and that no
one murdered him 1’"

1| Nix-97

“ Why not?"

“ ’Cause I axed him of he did it an’ he sed no."

“ Poor Frank!” Dolly said. and she held her
handkerchief to her eyes. “ Ilovctl him so much."

“ Don’t cr ,” Sam said. “ Tain‘t no use c in‘;
besides I'll ose all appertite fer the buttermilk.
Jest hand et beer, an’ see me make rt eva rate."

“ Oh! I cannot! I cannot believe that it is Frank
who is dead I" Dolly sobbed.

“Yer can‘t?" .

“ No, noi I try to believe it, but something seems
to whis or to me—“ No, it is not Frank!"

Sam nished the buttermilk—41. good three pints of
it, too—and wiped his mouth on his shirt-sleeve.

“ Well now thet y‘r come fer speak about et, I
don't be ieve et wer’ Frank. neliher- '

“ Olil don’t. you?“

And Dolly looked up with piteous eagerness.

“ Oh! I‘m so gladi‘ ‘

“ Yas, I've hed my doubts 3-1 along of et were
Frank who is dead."

“ But the one who i living claims to be Ralph!”

“Yes, I know he does. ut et has struck me he
was plagin‘ the part fer a purpose. 'Pears Frank
sed t e ay of the murder. that you shouldn’t marry
the judge, if he had to shoot you both at the altar.
Mebbe he’s playin’ off Ralph 11 order that he may
wait for that time to come.

“I don't think that could be his object. Ohl sir,
I wish you would see him and tell him that I want
to see im on a matter pf importance. If I could
onl have a few minutes conversation with him. I
con (I settle all doubts as to his identity.“

“I'll do it, by Jingol When e want any trottin’
girra’nds did jest call on me. W on (1 ye want to see

in

“ Any time he can make it,convenient to call."

“ All right. You can bet I ll see to it jest as soon
as I kiln get me peepers sot outer Ralph—as he calls

imse ."

Dolly went slowly back toward the cottage. a
gleam of hope in her sad eyes, 38m gave u fishing,
and dividing his large mess With Miss Prisci la, much
to her gratification, he set out for Honeybrook
farm, with his mind _on his Splendid catch rather
than on matters more important.

CHAPTER XV.
a“ “ EAVESDROPS."

A-r Larchmont, after the funeral, things took
about their usual course-

It would be some time yet until the sitting of the
Court, and the judge kept CIOSEIY to home.

Indeed, after the funeral. he was not seen to leave
the premises at all. and. if he did, it was at such a
time as he would not be observed,

This seclusion, some of the neigthrs alleged, was
owing to Frank‘s demise-

Jessie also remained whollgy within the house, and
as for Ra] h, the only place e did 0 was to R—-—,
where he rank more moderately t an had been his
went, and positively declinfjd to join his old asso-
ciates at the gaming-table— on account of Frank‘s
recent death, ’ he said.

He w” moody and mcommunlcative, and more
that: spa person hinted that something was wrong
Wl m,

J ust' after lamp-light. the evening followi the
occurrences last narrated. Ralph was lounginggupon
1:11:01? 13 the parlor at Larchmont, with a book in

an .
He was not mdins. but ‘Ppured intent upon

 

 

studying the outlines of a shadow upon the ceiling,.
caused by the chandelier.

The entrance of the judge caused him to glance at
that personage, but he made no effort to rise.

As for the Judge, he drew a chair near to the sofa,
back of which was a ba -window, the thick lace.
curtains of which fell just )ehind the sofa.

“ What’s the matter. Ra] ll? Are you not feeling
as well as usual since Fran died?"

“ As well as usual—yes.“

“ Then why are you so gloomy? Something must
disturb you, for you were always light spirited."

“ Frank's loss, of course, 0 presses inc.”

“ I am sorry to hear that. ow, Ralph, I‘ve got a
communication to make to you that may startle
you. Can I trust you to kee forever the secret I
am to tell you—this, when I tel you that for keeping
that secret you will, in aver short time, become
sole owner of Larchmont, an have five thousand
dollars to jingle in your pocket?"

“ You canl” was the unhesitntlng reply. “I‘m
not so scrupulous at trifics as Frank was. ’

“ Showing that you have sound sense. But, to
explain: Circumstances have arisen, owing to a past
which you know nothing about. that make it im-~

erative I should get out of this country without
delay. When I go, I wish to take Dolly Denning
with me. but, I fear she will refuse to leave on such
short notice, or to marry me at all. But she must.
I will not be baffled!"

“ I understand sir."

“ Very well. flare is my plan, and '01: must help»
me to carry it out. 'I‘o-morrow even ng early, you
are to visit Miss Denning. announce to her, in secret
that you are really Frank Jamison, instead of
Ral h, and r0 one to row her across the pond,
to t is opposiga shore, where amlnister is in waiting,.
and there be married."

“She will refuse. of course i"

“ Don't feel yourself. With regret I am forced to»
acknowledge that she loved Frank devotcdly, and
her romise to marry me was extorted by t rents
on t 6 art of Priscilla Tanglefoot. on finding
Frank a ve, she will be over oyed, and a little per»
suasion on your art will in uce her to take the trip.
——yovl‘il iii-cruising er to keep the marriage asecri-t. "

.. ,,

“Well, when you are about in the middle of the

0nd, on are to ask her to smell of a handkerchief
Pwill urnish you. which will be highly erfumed-
One sniff will place her in the power 0 apotent
drug. and she will take another sniff, declaring the
perfume to be delicious, and then. without suspi-
cion she will soon become unconscious."

at

"Well, i will be close at hand in a boat, relieve you
of your char 8, and that will be the last you or an
one else wil ever see of us on American soil.
have my plans all laid and shall not fail. After I'm

one, Larchmont and five thousand in the R——
ank to 'our credit, are yours."

“ liut I guess notl How am I to account fc r the
girl 's disappearance ?"

" Ohi that’s ens . Your call at the cottage must
be short, and, in t at interview, you must arranger-
matters to have Dolly slip out of the house at.
eleven. and meet you on the pond shore.

“ Priscilla and she occupy difi'erent apartments,
and the former invariably retires at nine o’clock-
So she'll be asleep when oily leaves: and when it
turns out that both Dolly and I are missing, it wilt
naturally be concluded that we have eloped, and no
blame will fall on you.”

“And I am to receive five thousand dollars and.
Larchmont for this i"

“ What‘s to become of Jessie ?"

“ Let her get married."

“This is to be done to-morrow night?"

“Yes. There is another thingl will let you into
when you promise to do as l have outlined."

“ I promise, certainly. I’d be a fool not to."

“Very well. That part of it is settled, then. and
Ishall depend on you. Now for the other: Have
vou had any sus icion that, for a couple of years

back. a counter eiting plant has ex sted in this.
town?"
“ Yes " \

“What gave rise to such a suspicion?"

“ That ghost racket up at uncle Van Gelder‘s
mansion ‘

“ Well, you are right. A gang has existed, and the
thing has worked mighty successful. Besides myself,
I have three confederates. They do the wprk; I am
the boss—they simply are my employees.

“Indeodl”

“Yes. The plant is so securely hidden that all
search has failed to find it. It has bronfilht me in
riches. When I am gone do you want to 1 my pc—
sltion?“

“I do, you bctl’" '

“ Very well. I will arrange it. W hen I am gone
one of the men wiilwait upon you, in the dead of
night.,and conduct you to the scene of the opera-
tions.‘ ,

“ How about the ghost business?"

“That’s all easy. Pipes run between floors and
ceilings, so that any rson iii the mint can cause a.
yell to goto any a of the house. The mysterious
parlor slap, that 38‘ Puzzled so many, is adminis-
tered byone of the men. the uickest person you
oversaw. H6 0‘" Slap you an disappear throai‘fih
a noiseless tflp before {on can turn around. a
trap is not in the floor, lit in the side of the wall.
directly in the opposite direction on would be look-
ing when you w eel around afterieinfi 

'The trap is a thin rubber panel, vid ng in the
center. when pushed nst, and is nted so as to
resemble 5 ROM pane of woodwor . A noiseless
leap carries him through this panel, which instantly

 

   
 

.
l .
l

i

 

 

 

nous yer ain’t cute enuff ter waltz around

closes, leaving no sound or trace of the mysterious

as tiillllil."

" A clover invention I should say."

“ Yes. When you come in charge, all that will be
necessary will be to frighten people away from the

lace, by the methods that have been resorted to,
ieretofore, and to be careful not to get nabbed, in
circulating the bogus. I cannot stop to explain more
fully. now, for [ havo some other business to attend
t ». But I shall expect you to fulfill your promises,
and keep my secre's.”

“ To the otter!“ Ralph assured. “ I like money
and luxury, and shall not be backward ’bout avail-
in': myself of opportunities of getting those commo-
dities."

" Correct. I shall depend on you, and w'rat ar-
rangements are needed, I will attend to, to-morrow.
‘With the understanding that all is settled, l'll go and

.nttend to some other business, now. ”

And arising, he left the house, by the front
way. and went up the road, toward the Van Gelder
mansmn.

As he did so a figure climbed out of the window,
in the rear of the sofa where Ralph Jamison was
lying, and followed the footsteps of the judge, like

.a rim shadow.

t was Sam Slabsidesl

Bound to get hold of such points as he could as
Well as to see Ralph. he had lurked in the vicinity of
Larchmont, f.oni the time it became dusk; then,
seized with a sudden impulse to know what was
going on in the mansion. he had easily gained en-
trance to the parlor, through the bay window. and
so had overheard every word that had passed be-

tween the two, and, as may be imagined, it was a

very edifying conversation to hear.

So when Jud e Jamison left Larchmont, Sam
wont after him, ilike a sleuth, his face flushed with
eXeiteinent, and his eyes gleaming.

At last, he was on t e true traill

Judge Jamison undoubted] was about to vis-
it the secret mint; and if so, Sam meant to be not

,far behind.

His surmise he found to be correct. for the judge
want straightway to the bluii‘, and ascended the
nth.

When he reached the top of the bluff, he halted,

.and gave three luW whistles.

A moment later they Were answered by two other

'whistles, of like nature.

These seemed to be signals inquiring and an-

:swcring if the coast was clear; for the Judge now

strode rapidly forward, and entered the mansion.

Sam Slztbsides was not slow to follow. When the
judge entered the parlor, Sam slip ed noiselessly in
after him, and hid himself behin the sofa, as the
deep darkness permitted him to do. -

The judge seated himself on a. chair, and gave a
couple more whistles; then a minute later Sam be-
come aware that a third party had entered the
room.

" Is that you, Tighe?" thejudge asked.

“You bet,” was the reply. "Isn’t it dangerous
for you here?"

u  r!

“ Some one might come prying around."

“ Bah! The coast was clear when I came. Aretha
other boys below i"

“ No. There was no work of their kind, ready for
"em, so they went off hunting, to-day.

" You shouldn‘t have allowed that.“

“ Why not?"

“ Because they're not so trusty as you, Tighe. How
are the prisoners ?"

“ The Gypsy is furious, and I wouldn‘t want to be
in the neighborhood were he to get loose. He’s got
afearful tem er."

“ Humphi ou‘ve got him caged so there‘s no
possibility of his getting free i"

“I should smile! But, he raves about like an en-
raged lion, judge.”

“Let him rage. How is the old man?"

“Feebie, sir. very feeble. His confinement seems
to bear heavily on him, and I don’t believe he will
live two da 3 more."

“ So muc the better!" the udge declared, unfeel-
ingly. “When he is dead, sin him in the pond. As
for the Gypsy, if you won’t kill him, wh , there's
no other course to pursue but to hold h m a pris-
oner.

“ About the best lan, I guess. I ain’t staining m
hands wi’ murder, hese daysi" Tighe asserted with
spirit. ‘5Did you see your son!"

“ How about it?"

‘ Ohi he will succeed me, when I am gone, and
you can keep rl ht on at work, as usual."

“ All ri ht. nly, can he be trusted?"

“Certa nlyi Heis red-hot for gain, and will not
give a thing away if there’s money to be made out
of it you ma. betl"

“ ery wel . How about that young tramp f"

“ Wh , if he comes nosing around here, any more,
secure 1m, also. It will not do to run an risks.
and if there is any liability of the mint be ng dis-
covered, sink the whole plant in the lake, and

skipl”

‘ I should smile.”

"I must be going now, and it is not probable I
shall Visit you again. So, I’ll bid you good-by, and
wish you good luck.”

“ Good-by, Cap! We’ll stick by the new
same as we did b you, ’long’s he treats us ht.”

The two shook ands. then the jud took de-
parture, while Tighe walked to one side of the room
and disap ared.

“Ohi 'm outer e, culiyi" Sam mused. “Yer
a reg'lar cute daisy- ender, but yer kin beggarslfii‘itp

in b-
sides, when he‘s got his Senatorial saffron dusted

ovor his phizy—nix-ee, Sarah Jane! I’m goin' ter in-
vestigate ther mint, or bu’st my b'iler in the at‘
tempti" '

 

CHAPTER XVI.
A BOLD VENTURE.

Trans had as good as said, in his conversation
with the judge that he was alone.

It was this fact that decided Sam to go to the res-
one of old Felix Gril Guyandotte.

Tighe did not appear to be a large, or )owerful
man, and somehow, it occurred to sturdy am that
he could handle him.

When Tighe had been one some ten minutes,
Sam emerged from behin the sofa, and stole to-
ward the point where Ti he had last been seen.

in the center of the si e of the room, where Tighe
had disappeared, was an open fire-place, with a
marble mantle above it.

At either side of this fireplace, broad panels of
plain walnut ran from floor to ceilin .

It was one of these panels that, instead of being
wood, was simply two wide hinged strips of rubber,
so artistically painted as to resemble and correspond
with the other woodwork of the apartment.

Wzihen Sam reached the panel, he paused and list-
ene .

Not a. sound could he hear, to indicate human
presence, on the other side.

Pressing his hand slightly against the panel, he
saw that it was indeed rubber.

He did not immediately attempt to push through,
however, for it occurred to him that such an action
might be dangerous, but soon he made up his mind
to go it whole hog or none i”

" I'll make the attempt, ef I git the hull top 0’ me
head blowed off!" he said, grimly, and the next
minute, with his revolver firmly grasped, and
ready for use, he pushed steadily against the
pane .

The novel door parted in the middle, and opened,
inward, and Sam stepped across the threshold,
allowing the rubber to spring noiselessly back to its
p ace.

Sam had imagined his move would bring him
into impenetrable darkness, but he was agreeably
disap ointed.

He ound himself in a. small apartment, some ten
feet long by four wide. On one side were the clap-
boards of the house, on the other the partition that
separated the room from the parlor. A lantern
suspended from the ceiling, furnished a dim light.

T ere was a floor to this room, and a. carpet upon
it. At the further end, a steep staircase ran down-
ward, ever so far.

After taking a survey of his surroundings, Sam
advatnced to the stairway, and began a cautious de-
scm .

What might await him, below, he had no means of
knowing, but he was keenly alert to his situation,
and nerved for a struggle.

Downi down! he went, step after step—it seemed
as if the staircase was endless.

He passed below what be calculated must be aline
of the bottom of the cellar of the mansion and after
a descent of a few more steps, came to the end of
the staircase.

He now found himself in a. large underground
room. lit by alantem suspended from the ceiling.
and saw at once, that he was in the counterfeiter's
den, for tables, stools, and the paraphernalia of the
profession were scattered around on every hand.

At the urther end from where Sam had halted
was a rude sort of desk.

Ti he was seated at this. with a lamp before him,
and is back was turned toward the spy.

As near as Sam could judge, he was sorting over
a lie of money.

efore making any further move, Sam took a
keen survey of t e apartment.

He concluded there was another cellar. for there
was a door, at Tighe’s right, which was closed and
occur 1d witha adlock.

Havmg com eted his observations, Sam stole cau-
tiously towar where Tighe was seated.

It will be remembered that the boy was in his
bare feet; consequently, his footfalls were so noise-
less the countorfeiter could not hear them.

When Sam was within a few feet of his man, he
leveled his weapon, and cried:

“ Tighe. on are m prisoner

With a s artled on b, the counterfeiter sprung to
his feet and gazed around, only tosee the polished
steel tube leveled full at his heart.

"Stand and deliver!" Sam continued. “Make a
move to disobey, and you're a dead man !“

"Ten thousand curses!" Tizhe gasped. “What
do you mean. you accursed rat? '

" i mean that I’ve caught you right in your tra i"
Sam declared. triumphantly; "and the onlyt ng
for you ter do is ter cool down and come ter time.
like alittle man. I‘ve got the head on you, and if
you t an monkey bizness with me, I‘ll put the
conten s 0 this rewolver inter yer carporosity,
quicker‘n scat. D’ye hear .9"

h “'13)? deuce take the luck! What brings you
ere ’

“ I‘m in that hullsale detective an' rescuin‘ biz-
ness at present. I want a. couple o_' friends 0’ mine,
$11; !after that I propose ter pull this beer j’int, you

e

l"

“ For the love of God, spare me i” Tighe groaned.
“If it were to get to my wife and children that I am
engaged in this business. it would kill them i”

‘ T at‘s none 0’ my bizness. mister. Yer orter
tho't 0’ that afore this. Ef you‘ve got any Weapons
about yer duds, iest fling ‘em on ther desk that: 311'
remember! my user‘s on ther trigger!"

Tlghe immediately obeyed, by drawing two revol-

 

 

Vet's: from his pocket, and depositing them upon the
es ’

“Ihave no intention of resisting!" he declared,
“ but I pray to God you will spare me. Think how
heavily this diSL’l‘uCP will fall on those who are dear
to me. Spare me, and i swear before the Almight
I’ll leave off this sort of life, and forever afttr this
live honest and upright."

“ Well, We‘ll see about that, after a bit, Tiger. old
boy. For the pi esent. ther's matters 0‘ more. im~
portance ter attend to. Git yer key tor thet door,
and unlock it!"

Ti be hesitated.

“ f I set the prisoners free,you won’t let the Gypsy
assault me, wil you?" he demanded, uneasily.

“ No. Go ahead.”

Tighe then drew a ke from his pocket, and un-
locked and opened the oor; then, taking the lamp,
he led the way into another but smaller cellar. off i f
which, were built two stone dungeons, with iron-
grated doors.

The counterfeiter unlocked these, and flung them

open.

“Come out!" he cried. "Your freedom is at
hand."

Gril Guyandotte promptly stepped forth. and the
moment he saw Sam, he sprung forward, with a
glad cry. a

“My true friendl" he cried. “ So I owe my liberty
to you, eh?"

‘ Sorter," Sam replied. “ This teller, Tighe,
'pears repentant, so we’ll be easy on him. Felix!
come out!"

The sound of the lad's voice caused the old man to
hobble forth; but his step was feeble, and he totter-
ed. unsteadily.

" Is that you, Sammy?" he asked. faintly.

“ Yes, Felix, it's me, all right side up with care,“
finddSam went forward and took the old man by tho

an .

" How aire 'e feelin‘ Felix?"

“Very poor y, lad. very poorly. I cannot live but
8. few hours longer, I fear. My strength is near]
gone. Some one has been telling me of all the vi -
lainy of my enemy, Sammy, and that my wife was
not untrue to me."

“ I have explained everything to him.” added
Guyandotte—“ things you have not et learned.”

‘ I know all," Sam replied. “ll rs. Jacobi and
Floss are even now under my rotcction."

Then turning to Felix, be ad ed:

"Yes. Felix, it is true. Your wife roves to have
been sinned against, fully as muc l as yourself.
by ther son-of-a gun, Milo Mitchell. But, Milo‘s
rope is peterin' out toward the end, an' ’fore many
hours more he'll be in prison.”

.“ Noi no! that must not be. Law must not touch
1 1m, for such would not be the vengeance of Felix
Jacobi. Take me first to my wife and children,
that they may be near me when I die. When I have
heard their voices I shall be happy. Then I want
Milo Mitchell brought before me, and forced to de-
liver up all the mone be robbed me of."

“ All right, Felix. e will arrange et all 0. K.”

Sam and Gril then went one side.

"What does he mean .by children ?" Sam asked.
“ Does his other gal live around here?"

“Yes. She is called Dolly Denning, her real name
being Dora. Denning Jacobi. The Priscilla Tan le-
foot of Ivy Cottage is really Judith Jacobi. Fel X's
sister. She conspired With Mitchell to ruin Mrs.
Jacobi, and no doubt received a large sum of
money."

Sam then made known the plot he had overheard,
concerning Dolly‘s abduction.

“ Do you believe Ralph means it ?" Gril asked.

“Noi '

“ Why not?”

“ Because I believe the resent Ralph is in reaiit
Frank. and hating the u go, he has grasped at tins
opportunity to get the ulge on him.”

‘ If so, and we could get the young fellow on our
side, that would be our prime 0 ance to nab the
Judge, and force him to restitution."

“You bet!“

“Then on see him. and arrange it. Take Jacobi
to his wi e, and bid him be kept out 01’ sight, so that
no one knows he is there."

“And on ?”

“Ian Tighe will remain here, and capture the
other two counterfeiters when they come~ that is,
if he will help me. for his liberty.”

Tighe was called and questioned, and readily con-
seated to assist to capture his two pals. on promise
that none of them should be brought to court.

The capture was to be made in order that no word
should reach the jud . to alarm him to hastier ac
tion that might enab 6 him to escape.

After the plans had been arranged, Jacobi was
given a swig of brandy, and then Gril and Sam
cartied him out of the cellar and to the foot of the
bluff. where he was placed upon his feet, and Sam
gssisted him to walk slowly toward Honey brook

arm.

In half an hour the blind father and husband was
locked in the embrace of his wife and daughter.

Though tears were freely shed, they were tears of
joy and forgiveness, and all was ha piness and
gratitude, Sam and farmer Norris g nearly as
much interested in the gladsome reunion as the par-
ticipants themselves. ,

Felix asked for his elder daughter, but was told
that that would not be possible quite yet, and was
finally revailed upon to to down, as it was to
that a ter the first excitement had worn away he
would be weaker. and such a sudden relapse ht
prove fatal.

"‘Of course I can’t see Duff he murmured. “ but
I cannot complain. has been merciful and
blessed me by restoring you to me in my last days,

i
t

5 ~ ‘
. ' i: . . ' .v
' 15.4....Jmiméum---

.41.-..l'.A-.>n-J
_ _ M. 

l

     

 

     

and I amcontent. As He has been merciful to me,
.lo will I be merciful to mine enem '. He smote me
sorely with ailliction. I will reta late by allowing
him to go hence in search of a better life. Tile
thought of his villainy will be more punishment to
him than all the horrors of a life of imprisonment “

And perhaps his was the truest and best vengeance
~——\V'llO shall say?

CHAPTER XVII.
CONCLUSION.

Tm: next morning, bright and early. Sam set out
in search of Ralph amison, and found him lounging
in under the trees, in front of Larchmont.

At a motion from the boy. Ralph arose, and fol<
.1 yved him down the road.

Here a halt was made. under a big maple tree,
and Sam came to the point, like a little man.

"Jamison," he said, “d‘ye know what I think 0’
‘anl .

“ No. \Vliat.?”

"I think ye’r‘ too cute ter live!"

fl “£130 you, really? What causes you to believe
.  ‘11

“ Ther racket ye’r’ playin'. ‘Tain’t right, tho’,
fer a man w’ot’s a corpse, ter be cuitin' 'round like
you are. In short meter. sir, Iknow you‘re Frank
Jamison, and that it was Ralph who was killedl”

“ You do i“

"I do you betl"

‘:‘Wel , since you‘re such a knowing lad, what of

9

“ Good bit. Why don’t ye go ter Ivy Cottage, like
a man, tl-ll Dolly ther truth, an’ make her happy?
.She's pinin‘ away like a wilty flower, for you."

“She is?"

“ You bet 1"

“How do on know?“

‘° ’Ca'se I ad ainterview wi' her. an’ she sed she
loved yer. an‘ wasn’t goin’ ter marry the jedge-—-
thet she’d been forced ter make the promiSe; thet
sh». didn’t believe you were dead, an’ she wanted me
ter git ye tor eomo an‘ see her.”

” Did she tell you this?"

"Ho 0 I may never see Christmas. of she didn‘t!
It won d do her more good than forty doctors, fer
see ye. Come. now, you’re Frank Jamison who was
.goln‘ to commit suicide. ain‘t ye?"

The young man remained silent a moment, and
'then he nodded assent.

._ “ l know’d it. Kuow’d it all along. But, how
’bout thet bargain ye made wi’ ther judge, last
.nllzht?" .

h  f"

_" Thet bargain ye made wl’ .ver dad? Oh! I know
all about it, so yer needn’t be s‘prised. I was right
.behind the sofiar an’ heard every word 1"

“ The deuce you say i"

_ “ Ohl you bet. I‘m a rek‘lar daisy-bender at find-
in‘ out such thin . I am! But, I tho't I twigged
,yer racket. Yer idn‘t like ther judge sev‘ril hun-
dredweight, an’ when yer see‘d a chance ter 8913
him into yer wer, yer jumped at it.”

“You've h t the nail (precaser on the head, my
young friend. You coul not hm"? guessed closer. ’

:T at’s what I tho’t. NOW. Will er hev patience,
an listen ter a little story I’ve got r tell yer, that
wdl prove yer fostervfathe!‘ to? be one o‘ the most
cussed mean rascals thet ever lived?"

“ Yes. Go ahead.” \

So Sam did go ahead.

He began at the beginning of the Jacobis' storieS,
and touching all points and incidents. as he pm
ceeded, told the whole sin 1113? history through.
now and then, by some od expressions, relieving
the narrative somewhat of the monotony of its
shocking details.

Frank Jamison listened Without interruption, un-
til“Sam had finished, when he said: ‘

This is certainly a remarkable case, but I doubt
not its truth. For several years I haw been im-
‘pggsedswifh the; opinion thélt 13h: agidl-ie (had a dark

«oacobrsesoeeue
' re‘e'Ydoes be?“ p opo f d 8 go scot

' es—thatis, if the Mrs re 1m 3 all the stolen
mom”. Which, with interest and all. amounts to in
ther neighborth o’ forty thousan' dollars."

“ He can do that, for he has twice that amount in
the bank. WellI go ahead, and let Jacobi secure his
chievcas. glen, I shall have a word to say."

“ I shall have the udge arrested. on the charge of
mprdering my brot er!”

‘ Do you think he did it?"

“Yes. He bore me no good will because I was
Dolly’s suitor. He no doubt laid in wait for me,
and seeing Ralph. pounced u ll and killed him. in
mg supposition that it was I. ’ n

” 0w came you at R——, that night?

I was discouraged, disheartened and reckless,
and thought I’d try getting drunk. t0 drown m 801'-
row. The cure was worse than the disease. hen
Ifound Ralph had been killed. I concluded to step
into his place, so as to better observe the judge's in.
tenuous. that I might baflie them."

After some further consultation. it was fixed that
F milk Should row out in the boat that night. but
instead of taking Dolly with him. Sam and Gril were
to be his gassengerg, and they were to surprise and
ca ture t ejudge.

m then returned to the farm-house.

About noon, Gril Guyandotte put in an appear.

ance.
Tlghe's two pals had been taken. he said. and
under solemn promise to lead better lives. had been
left at the den under Tlghe’s surveillance as l: was
thought best that they should remain there and

 

am Slabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective.

keep u a pearances, in case the judge might take
it into liis lead to pa another visit.

Frank Jainism] ca led durin ' the afternoon, and
stated that Jamison was loc ’ed in his roonl at
Larchmont. and appeared to be making prepara-
tions for a joulney.

He had, during the forenoou, drawn all his money
from the bank at R , and no doubt, when he was
captured. it would he found about his person.

Night drew slowly on, dark and lhrealoning a
StOl‘ill.

At the farm-‘.ouso the friends waited anxiously
for the hour for action to arrive.

It came at last, and found Frank Jamison, Sam
and (luyandolte on the shore of the pond.

Thoroughly armed, the two latter lay down flat
in the skitl', while Frank took the oars. a dummy
woman had been improvised for the occasion, and
lay partly on the bow of the boat.

Guyandotte. who was an expert at lasso-throw-
ing, was armed with a strong line. which he was to
use, in case Mitchell should attempt to drown him-
self.

Thus equipped, the little craft pulled out over the
dark surface of the pond.

Half-way across a low whistle was heard, which
Frank answered; then a voice called out:

“ Straight ahead, Ralph i"

“ Ay, ay, sirl" was the response.

Then, a moment later, the outlines of the judge’s
figure could be discerned, as he stood up in his
boat.

" Have you got her, Ralph?"

“I have."

“ That‘s right. Pull close alongside!"

Just then. Gril and Sam arose, and the snake-like
lasso shot llll‘l)li"jll the air and pinioned the villain‘s
arms to his side.

" Stand and deliver!" Sam ordered. “ Make no ef—
fort to escape,” he cried, “ or you will he shot full
of holes."

Mitchell swore fiercely, and tried to jump over-
board. but he found himself in the strong arms of
Gril Guyandotte, who flung him flat in the bottom of
the boat, and held him there, while Sam bound him,
hand and foot.

The capture had been neatly made. and Milo
Mitchell was at the mercy of those whom he had
so foully wronged.

 

 

To relate, in detail, what folloWed, would be, in
one sense, to go over what we have already nar-
rated.

Mitehell was taken to the farm-house. and than)
confronted by those whom hls machinations had
caused so much sorrow and suffering.

Sam acted as s )okesmau, and preform.“ the
charges with the pomtedness of a criminal lawyer.

With a stolid, sullen face. Mltcheil heard, making
no denial. saying nothing. excepting to occasionally
utter an imprecation. -

When asked what he had to say, his reply was:

_ “Nothing. I have no regrets to make, only that
it is not in my power to klll you all. Do our worst.
Force me even to the gallows, if_ you wil . As boldly
as I‘ve lived, that boldly Will I diel”

He seemed utterly bereft of care what became of
him. his brutal instincts now so held the mastery.

When told that the Jacobis would press no charge
against him rovidinz he gave them fort thousand
dollars. and gurnished ten thousand add tional, for
the maintenance of his own daughter. Jessie, and a
like amount to Frank, he at first refused, but flnal-
ly consented, and paid over the sixty thousand dol~
ars.

Frank then ordered him to leave the count , un-
der penalt of hangigngor killing Ralph. W

As ma suppos . he 10“ no time. in accepting
this adv ce.

One year later, he died In New Orleans, on his
death-bed confessing to murdering Ralph and John
Van Golder.

The disgrace fell so heavily upon Jessie that she
pined away. and died, and Larchmont fell to Frank,
who, when he made kDOWD his identity, was regard-
ed as a prince of brave fellows.

Although Felix made no effort to in1ure her. Ju-
dith Jacobi left Ivy cottage, and no one ever heard of
her afterward.

With their restored fortune, the Jacobil and
their two lovely daughters. had nothing more to
desire.

The van Gelder mansion was purchased, remodel-
ed, and now is agrand home. Felix Spent his last
days there, dying not long after being reunited to
his family.

Subsequently, after 8 Proper period of mourning,
Do ly was married to Frank-

And there are two more Weddings likely to come
off. at no far distant day—that of Gril Gnyandotte
to Mrs. Jacobi, and Mr. Samuel Slabsides to Miss
Floss J acobil

For be it known, when farmer Norris passed away
to his last home, he left to the tramp detective all
his real and personal property—quite a nice for-
tune.

And, as Sam is apromlsins citizen, it is to be hoped
that his “ senatorial " nSpirations will some day be

realized.
TH! END

 

'15

 

Beadle’s Halifime library.

“Y “(NH-IR. STAR B UCK.

25 The Boy (‘npining or. The l’inlll-‘u llnulzllier.
114 The lllnek Hl-hooner: or. Jib Junk. the UM Tar.
2..” lllt‘ Golden llur mull: Ivr. lllmt Antoni: Hm Floss.
BI}! Fire-Ileelu: 1",(lllSkllllll‘ll,llll'])Iffll.ll-Sllll1l0‘V-
394 'l‘llx Ilorn Ike, the Hill Trump; or, The Odd Yards.
891 l he l’lmntom Light-house.
8.0 Breaker lien, lllu R.~..r.Rnnn.-r.

IIY PHILIP B. “'ARNE.

07 Patent-Leather Joe: or, Old Rflul!“lll\k0, the Charm“,
175 Imprnln Arizona: or. l'm.~ul-l..~ntln~r Joe's lllg Game.
198 (‘nptnin Musk: or. l'utc‘nt-ln'ntllur J.-.-'n llei‘ellt.
219 "t‘lplll‘d. the IDIu-llnt: or. The Mountain anpirel.
88“ A 1‘0“ ll lloy: or, The llwnrl‘n Ruvungu.
808 Little ‘ornndo: or, The Hun-ml» or ills Glen.
878 Little .llngo; or. the timer l’urll.
88H Little “ll-Inyt or, Caught in “in Own 'l‘rno.
401 Little Shoo-ll ly p or, A Rum for n Ranch.
408 Little Leather-l reel-lion; or, Old Jumbo’l Curu.
481 Little All N'lnx or, The Cur-u of lllood.
451 Colorado lulte. A Tale ofille ivllnu.
4140 Three Jolly I‘m-do. '
517 Jim (:Iudllen‘n llepuiy.
523' The Joli) l’urlls to the Rem-no. '

ln' HARRY s'r. GEORGE. ‘

80 Roaring Ilulph Iloekwooli, the Run er. \

44 llntlling Rube; or. The Nlrllllmwluo Kentucky.

59 "Id Iliekory; or, l‘llnllv Ellis'n Soul . ‘
108 During Davy; or. The Trail of the pier Wolf. ,
100 Hickory Ilurr ' ; l-r. ’l‘lm ’l'ru >pvr~llrlmlde'l Spy, '
172 Thunderbolt ' om: ur. the \ 'ull-lll-nior. \

nr MAJon HENRY n. sronlmnn. Pix-Scout. i

806 Neck-Tie Ned: or, The Dug-Out l’nrlla. \

B46 Rn )Ier llnphnt‘l: or. The Swordsman of Zaraterlll. '

3i” Kill-Glove Kit. Um llnlllly of the Rnl‘kles. ,'

mm Kid-Glove Kit and I'm-d: or,'l‘lmllold King. 1 I.

406 The Mad Mun-Ilnnteri or, The Mystery of Golda-l "
Gulch.

505 Powell’s Paul; or, The Uile-Aml-nl Giant. ‘

BY mm. .1. r. o. ADAMS. ‘\

84 (Dragon $10]; or, Nirk “’llillles's Boy Spy. E
4“ “luv-uh "3'0: llll‘ i:Tl'lll glint or the \v"“.
B4 \011 Ilnzel, ill» llnv ’l'rnppnr.
56 Nll‘k “'llllilvn'l l‘ci.‘ or, iv The Valley of Death.
00 The “'hlll- lmllnn ; or, The Seoul of tile Yellowstone.
70 0M Zl l'l Cnhlnz or, 'l'ln- Hrw‘llllorll in the Woods.
NI hurl-tn Ill: JO. lln- ’l'vrrur «ll lln~ l'rnlriu.
i'll’r "In-k lhu-krnm: or. Heal. the Fl-nmlo- 'l'ra per.
24': "Id Grizzly and III:- I’etnx or, The Will liuntrcu.
251 lilglIt-houne Lice: or, (lsl‘fllllll, the ll'lru-l-rnnd.
257 The Lost Hunters; or, The llnllerxroulld Camp.
2748 The Souln King; ur, ’l‘lu- Hunmn Thunderbolt.

HY M.\JOR E. L. ST. VIKAIN.

292 Rum-ho Pedro, tin- lioy Run-lit.

am Lendville Nil-k, the tiny Sport,

312 Hode Ifnhe, llm Vigilante Prince.

mm "rim-tolu- Bob. and ill: Lighinlns lion... Quin-“u”
852 ’l'olnlmtone Tom. the Arllnlm 1in vi “ Sand."
3.)” "drum-u Hutu. l'v- \ um "ll‘w n \\ ,,.,,..,.,._
871 Killuholi. (‘hrlm llle Yunnl: “uni-Shell Detectlvc.
3H0 Avnlnnelle .\|i'. illo- Foothill: Guide.

390 Jaguar Joe. of the Mount llll lllllll~l.ine.

I!" .10 PIERCE.

807 Bob 0' the Bowery; or, The Prince of Mulberry Street.
415 The Vagabond Detective: or. lluwery Bob's Boom.
452 Iloln ur Bob. tin- Street-lin nun-rim.

400 The .nwyer’s Hllndnwx ur, Luke's Legacy.

4’32 Jnunty Joe, the Young Horse-King.

494 Surly Him. lllc- Young Furrylnlln Detective.

504 Five l’olnts Pin“.

50” Jack J“ gel-I, the Butcher Boy Detective.

510 'l‘nrtnr im; or. Five Points Phil’s Menagerie.

526 North River Nnt. the Pier Dem-live.

588 “'l-e-illnlz Ill-x, tln- Pridu ol‘thu Sixth Ward.

6-11 Jefl’ Flicker. lllv- Stable iluy Detective.

BY ALBERT \V. AIKEN.

11 The Two Detectich or, The Fortunes of: Bowery dbl. l

76 Abe Colt. the Crow-Killer. l
79 liol (Gin er, the Giant Trapper.

988 Joe “no ' oi' Angel-I and "In Boy 1"??‘1-

447 New York Nut. A Tide of Tricks and reps in Gotham.

45! New England N lol, 3 or, The Furtunu oi u Foundllng.

464 Nimble N Ivk, 1h.- (‘m-lls Prince.

493 'l'nun 'l‘od. tln- Arizona Sport.

510 Cool Colorado, llu- Half-lined Detective.

615 Cool Colorado in New \ ork-

BY BUOKQKIN SAM (Major Ram. s. Hall.)
234 "M “m4,on lonoyeen i” or, Bonito, the Young Horu-

lrenker.
‘4“ (Hunt. (Icon-Ire; or, The Anlz'l n! the Range.
21:, A Hm". Jupk‘ or. Giant George’s l’nrd.
297 'n“. Tammguln of Tami or. Glnnl George's Revenge.
30-; The Strange lt-"l; or, lulu Ben’s Death Hunt.

' . v Ker-whorl: or. The Tarantula ni Tami. ‘
 33:933.:ognt, the Cuddo; or. The Rail and “'liito Pads. '
332 Fr“, Fred: UP. The 'l‘nllknuuy's Trust. |

~ ‘ . rloi or. Rattlesnake, the Tonhw. '
 r\l\'hii‘llF\IJ\g¢:l‘illnfin ills-Font Wallace to tho lfront. y
8.37 The Ram-II Raider-oi or, The Sign a! hm mummy.
36-1 Snap-Shirt. the Boy Ian-er.
81f: (ll-Iota. the Creek} llr..'i‘hn 'l hm- Thuliderbolt._
as: lhulderu “ill; or. I‘rlo l‘mnk‘lo lin- hum,
8i”) Romeo and the Reds: or, 'l'he Beluagnnrml Ranch.
404 Lit".- Inu'lnt; or. [menu Pete I llig anpwm
414 The Daily from Denver.
427 The Three Trailers: or. Old Rocky on m. mmvm
44’ Bill“ 1"“; or, The Lynx of the Leona.
455 Little Lone Star: or, The Belle oi the Cibolo.

11" Ell “' All“ \VILLETT.

"w A", son“, the Steamboat Boy.

‘99 F¢ntherwelgllt the lloy Cnnmplnn nrtho Munitian
928 "mu-k ;\li'i «Ir, Fenlllerwelglll Among the Olltllwl-

2’32 'l‘lw Typo Detective: or. Warn-~91. the W." 'l'n‘mP'

295 Feurlell I’ll“: or. The Kim: ol‘Qllnrlzvllle. ,
2311 Tht‘ Ilcwlnlr liner-ti or. The Pride nl’Cllllrkolllck GIMP!
8132 Nean. the Detective; or, Kit Kenyon'l "W'd'"“

340 Cllp, the Contortlonlst; or, Tim Muntllnn Vlldmlm'

A new issue every Tuesday.
The Ilnli't-Dlmo Library is for sale by all

N wsdealers. five cents er co . or sent by mail
of; receipt of six cents eagh. Billions a Annus‘

Publishers, 98 William street, New York.

 

BEADLE’sarHALF-DIMEtLIBRARY.

Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at true Uniform Price of Five Cents. No Double Numbers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

; BY ED1VARD L. “WHEELER. DY CHARLES MORRIS. BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAIIAM.
Deadwood Dick Novuln.   isonlti‘rfl,llllt' iiuyiDrtectlve. I? fill? 1;] “lug ankegx or, The Ocer’llnI (ll‘l‘lcflli. Y b
.- , ~ ,, ‘ ' ‘ ' lllrt - t. nus» i--_\'. 7 u n o - th Ho‘ ucmnvrr: or ‘ '-6 'uttitive ac t.
3}) I],y€,?:‘bY(?1:‘ul'I:.t; El)er  nvfiflnu. 26 Picayune laws; or, Niomiruuu, the Dog Detective. 24 Diamond llrke' or), The Myntrry oi the Yellowlione.
88 “lllrllo "of!" or l)rlldwomi Dick in Die lli ‘30 "olei'uve luck: "rt Th“ “‘5'” “' Rim" “2 The fihlld0‘V “LIP; “re The Riv“ l'irm'mmnu-
35 \"lltIi I": II the llov Cluudr Dul'nl 2 be. 1’2 "‘"Hl‘m'le Hurry! m” Biwu’lfld‘ Delt‘CilVO- 75 The Boy Dneliut: or. The Cruise of the SeaNVOli.
42 I’lmnto l \lin ~r ' or Deadwood llirk'e Boll n a 1‘17 “Vin Wildlife, “"5 Timrvughbred. 102 Dick Dend-E e, the lioy SlnutzL'u-r.
49 Hm I Till- mt livndh'oml Dick in lhm -r a z ' 152 "luck "on. Will Wildfires aner- Ill The Sen-Devil; or, The Midnhiplunu‘nLegacy.
l 5‘ D A lriu-l | in .L—‘I F“ Imp or The [Pu-'1, of no I I; r 157 Mike Mi‘l'l'!" "1': "MM" “MC” 305'- 116 The "linear Ca illln ; or, The lit-unit m 1ch] Gate.
70 lit-lldll'ollll I’lt‘k on Dist-k ' ’or i‘nlmniivlJune thmll point; 162 ‘v 1“ Wilda": '" the “food'- 197 Litilc Grit: 0r, nits, the Stoclu'i‘eluier'. Dflughter.
77 (.‘Ol‘dll‘I'IDV (‘hllrlic ' or i'JIItl\\"ooll Dick": Laet'Agt. e . 165 "lily Bullmfer “m R’mmfld “W- 204 Gold Plume: or, The Kid-Glove Sport.
100 Deadwood Dick in‘I c'udvlllo 170 A 'l‘rlunp Curd; or. Wlll Wildhre Wine and Lona. 216 Dillon llill. the Prince ot the Reina.
104 Do dwood Dick'n Dc‘vice' or The Double Crou Si 174 Bob Itockett: or, Mysteries of New York. 222 Grit. NIP “I'IWO Snort; "Y; The “'“m'ln Tr‘lleh
’1 109 D -udwood I"(‘k an Dctcoillv v gm 179 Bob llockcti. thr- linuk Runner. 229 Crimtlon Rate or, The Cowboy": Triumph.
‘4 139 lptxdwood "10kt. Double . a} The G110“ of Go, out. 1R8 The lliddon lland ' or. Will “'ildfire'n Revenge. 28? Lone Star. the owboy Caitlin.
i (gum ‘ ’ z I”? gredlllalynrd, tilt-Di?“ Hunt DBov; orl. 'l‘he Smuggiofl. :46 Merle tillf‘Mldily hm, ‘he Freelance Heir. h B
l . ' ' ‘ D “9 0" {ockt‘tti “V. 1’ V9" i“! e WHI- 50 The A ldu I pmun utlneer or, Brnu t. t e uccanoer.
‘88 “lurnde "m" 0" Defldwnm‘ Dle I 8‘ "vm B-“c' 6 shadowed; 0'. 30" RNRCN‘I light {of Llfot 284 The Floating Feather: or; Merle L‘l’ullie’l Trouuu
9 A (-mne oi (told; or. Deadwood Dirk a Big Strike. 06 Dark pull] the Tm" Km“ mam ,
  :l:5h.:¥,l:ffi§,‘:llffi?d hflrfifljflm‘: at“: ' 212 Dashing Dllve, the Dandy Detective. 269 The Gold 8i.in or, Merle, the Condemned.
‘ . .' ’1) .d p kv w 4' 220 Tom Tanner; or. The Black Sheep ot the Flock. 276 Merle Monte n Cruiue; or, The Chase 0! “ The Gold
:3};  ll‘dlhl‘fhfifihh Zr; Cilnl‘lli‘lOthllfie': L3: 'Ad- 295 Sam Churc‘ml ""5 "re'l'il‘m Dark» Shit-3’
venture ’ ' y 235 Shadow Ham. the Mrs-anger BOY- 290 Merle Monie‘n Fate: N’- Pflrl, the Plrnte’l Bride.
.17 (Va "a." oracbghot the am 3,; and 242 The Two “ liloodn "; or, Shenandoah Bill and His Gag. '84 The sea Mal-under; or, Merle Mento‘u Pledge.
221 so I’ur-Coated Sam {or The Bhu— uni... 25" "k'k l'BIhIIWBYi 0" A Dfllmih 30." l" (‘hlcnkn- 287 Dilly Bluc- Eyeu, the Boy Rover oilhe Rio Grande.
332 50 $9..“ luck A Rm'nnme of Ron h. {nd Tough. 262 The Young Sharp“ or, Rollickiug Mike's liot Trail. 804 The Dead Shot Dandy; 0?, Realto. the Boy Bugler.
263 Deadwood Dick". Divide ‘ or The  pint of Swnm ' Luke 274 JO“? Jim- “'9 “new” AD "’cmiw- 808 Keno Kit; or. Dead Shot llnndy‘l Double.
.6“ Deadwood "Icky. "with vi‘rn'“ l L p ' 2’19 Jolly Jlln’n Job; or, The onnz Detective. 814 The My-wrlou. Marauder; or, The Boy Bugler’s Long
809 l'eadwood lucky. I“ neul' o, The Gold mick of 29% The “later-Hound: or, The Young Thoroughbred. Trail.
on. on. c l ’ 805 Danhawny, oi’ Dakota; or, A “'eniern Lad in the aner 3?; ¥onodeb the Roy Rovcrgsor,Tll-¢rl Fl; len ISclhot‘iinor.
821 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen: or, The Falllr ofPhrlntorn Flute. C‘W- N he Indian' Pilot: or, The em or rate I m
. . . ' ~ - _ 824 Ralph Ready the Hotel Boy Detective. 88'? \Var ath \\ ill the Boy l'hutom.
‘47 Pfiztlwood Dick’s hut-mt. or» “my 9"" “‘ “m D" 3:1 $0nyfi1‘horne3ire Vagabond Detective. I ’ B“ d. 898 §eaw?ali', the no} Lieutenant. Th F IL.
851 Deadwood Dick sentenced; or, The Terrible Vendetta. 8 3 .he eporu‘r' ’(‘iei'uvei 0"; Fred F 3'0!” "I? 402 under. the I oung Com- iraior: or; e ntn Acne.
. l V ‘ e 307 \i lde-Awulu-Joe' or A Bo ofthe Timon. 407 The Boy 1...."- .nt 0,. [he Cuban Vanda",
‘62 “min” luck" than” 0" “1° lair” he. 0‘ F‘m  lflrrfi'. tile lfievele‘r; hr, Thzmood. oithe Bouleurd. 412 The “'ild "Dell‘tllllllln; or, The W'nr-Cloud’l Cruiu.
405 Deadwood Dick in Dead City. "e y i“: 'u “'0 River-B“- DBWFNW- 429 Duncan Dare. tho Boy Refugee. _
. . . 428 The Lot-t. l‘ln er or,'lha Entra dCubler. 433 A c M n n L ck “TD 9 n.1,,
410 gfitdwood Dick'l Diamonds. or, The lily-teary o! Jow  rre‘d like“ ‘ 9 “gym”, Dimmvlé? 487 Theasc: R: “tr.” .3 0 t’ 0
t ' ' . ' - Ilv nc h e Lo an the Pin erton amt. 44] Th 0 e n Fire“ on A Mild 1. v,,.'“nc._
1:5 i'p‘md'lfifi 'l’ifi-‘ir'l'llldxz‘fi'u'hi 8'i.?nlaci';‘:n§“'°"' 45“ ""1! Brick, thud” Vmbond- 446 nail-:uird um“: or. The écnlw me onbe Sn-
443 "elsdumm luck .1, ’ ' 466 “'lde-Awakc Jerry, Detective; or, Entombed All". 450 \Vizard “'lll: or, ‘lm Boy Fen“ 0 New York,
4.48 Vfi.ke|.p|ate Néd; h, Dmdwood Dick Jr'. pen“, 479 Detective Dod e: or, The Mystery of Frank Hearty. 454 “lizard “11",. Street Scan".
458 i‘uniiower Sam at Sh’utn‘ or Deadwood Dloil Jr’l Full 48“ “Ind luv" Ru“ et‘ ‘62 The no"! Guide! 0"- The Sim" 30? “53'3"”-
.nd ’ ’ ’  ¥gotm the Boy Y‘irelr‘nanlz’ or, Tolo Sharp for the Sherpa.  lgfptune hcd, ihevtioy Counter.
' . 7 _ e Scot-ct Perv t-e ov etect ve. ‘ ora or. Wizard 'ilt’: V" Abond Pnrd.
I 459 Fin-h Fan, the Ferret, or, Deadwood Dick Jr a Big Round 596 Jimmy the K”; or, A Lamb Among we”... 4“? Ferret; Afloat: orhewlurdfl "H" Li“ Cm.
' { Ph ' 4 ' v 48 Nevada Nod the vulva Ranger.
485 thilll‘omrl!’ 0 can, on Deadwood Dick Jlfl Racket at BY "LL cooMEs.  firlzfa‘angit; $21321preggfithck.
471 liozeman lllll: or, Deadwood Dick Jr’l Com . , ' Var- , .
476 Iguflg’o'dt "Ill‘ry, the Hurricane; or. Deadwood Dick Jr’s lg   tho you“ “ “(1"an J8"    03:2? Shnrk and the Sn Cl.»
0“ (waive. - 27 Aniolo e Abe .the Bov Guide. \ l . C
48] 1:0“ M’vctePYl 0" Dlgl‘dwoo‘fl D'rkvg" Deglwgom d D 81 Keen-knife, ill‘e Prince- of the l‘rnlriel.   "dildcmyfinnche Shadow.
' 49' lrli'é‘éfimlcltml‘ m m“ ° ""’ e' ' °” “ w°° “" 4; Ll't'uo Jusk, lira You": twig". F 525 Brother: in nn’uohmn
' T e “or cr ' n.“ or, e trei oe. ‘ _ '
496 Monte Crluto, I’m: or, Deadwood Bickpir’nhiglxrliance. 7‘ Delaware luck. “m hung Rmur Spy.   
‘03 llflldwoofl llllic‘l‘c’. illsfli'm", "I, r. at I p. swooP' 74 "‘lWR'e c "‘"rv ""9 you": “wrunmifl' 640 Captain Ku-Klllx the.Mnrnuder oi the Rio.
gl’r neagwooa Int-l." Pl Lem-M“ 3" "0"“ “a” “‘1 “"n "- 545 Lieutenant Leo th’. Son of Lafitte.
) w wvoo "(mania 5”" "‘4 3"” 5"“ '3“ " “"’ ‘5' “‘“"“"“° 550 l antte'n Lent-,3: or. The Avenging Son.
522 Dead“oodl c ’I D Pet. 1“ scnr'Fm'c 53"" the Sim“ Hum" 555 The Crcolc Cort-air J
529 "endwm’a mull; llimnhr "Mk" '4“ “"0" 8”" "" ""“' K““‘h" 560 l’awncc Bill the Prairie Shndower .
584 Deadwood lchk 3 fair Allunt. 158 Each: Kit. the ito)‘ Demon. 5.“; Kent Klngdo’“ the Card King ‘
‘89 Deadwood ml. r‘ 'l » thing-w v “‘3 “We Tu“! “"’ "0"“ “"“""“°" 570 Camille the Cm’d Queen '
 "eagwpml  k, Jr-ltl)i M tt lo“ mocq. 17” 0” “mull?” “‘9 “‘"mi‘ 1"?l"‘"- 575 The Hll.rlcon-Soout IDctcctlve.
"e" “om tick 0" l an. en 9' 1"" “We """k‘u'w' "‘“ “0 “PM” 530 The Outcast. Cadet; or The no. Detective
5:4 “eudwoOd ll) 0k, Jri " at “m. 202 Pro! ect Pete: or. The m1“! OW" H‘"“"" 586 The Buck-kin Avenrei- '
5 l Deudwood D k. In  (1 II 208 The 0! Hercule“ M’The Pmmu Trump" 591 Dclmontc the Young Sen-Rom".
661 neudwnud “k, Jr. n ‘ a “I, in. 218 Thai '1 om' the Ta” “mm 597 The Your: Texan Detective
$3 #32322: m Jr.-  3:2 l’rtl‘wi’ii.“      T...   1...... -
' ’ ' ' . t t h l» ' l . . ° ,
584 Deadwood Dick, Jr. in Denver. as The gum“ fiz’teahgvor'aifl: migrkmlm 607 The Rover Detective: or, Keno Kit.- Champion.
 {:2203'3331Diizll‘:  Illll’f‘l‘l'refiihbub'g Bum. 248 The Dlngulued “Illlile'i or, 'ild Raven, the Ron".
I t “"0 "°“““‘°"“ "“"‘ "'- 9‘ CM” “hmd- Egg liltil‘illlifilhilt?of£°&17'§h“.$$3fwrlf"‘°n BY BUFFALO BILL (110.. Will. 1". Cody).
'\ 606 Deadwood Dick Jr I Leadville Lay; or, Briutol nd 99" Little Foxfire' we guy's-p“
l'v Baa“ ' boom. 800 The Sky Demon : or. Ruiubolt, the Ranger. 8 Kan-a,- King; or, The Red Right Hnrnd’. P ‘ l
‘1 884 “’hip-kiug Joe, the lift\‘ Ranchero. 19 The l hantom 86y: or, The iloto tle rn re.
i I Other Novels by E. L. Wheeler. 409 Hercules or, Dick, the Boy Ranger. 55 Deadly-Eye. the nknown Scout.
’; V 417 \Vcbi’oot . one. the Trump Detective. 68 Border Robin flood; or, The Pnirlo Rover. '
'V .3 Clove“ "00ft "'9 Bum)" mm“ 422 Rah Sam, ihn lio)‘ Giant ol' the Yellowetone. 158 Paley Frank of Colorado: or, The Tnpper I Trust
:: Fob l‘vl‘fiwlf‘ “D'I‘I'F “"l 93W“; Y k 444 Litt e Bucknkin. tno Y'OIIIHKPP:AIPE Centaur.
K “'3‘ " “"9' ° c l”: "'1 ‘e "‘ °w 0" ' 45‘? “'lngedi’oot Fred: tr. 0 d 0 or nul.
45 “id Avalanche: or Wild Edna. the Girl Briguld. 433 1‘ 'r the lug Tm rer Roy. _
l :t‘; lJ‘lnIRIIiludmilfihJr.,’t¥a Baydl’iilloigixi‘ 4n "fi'fifigfna‘mgfi m, Held in", Emdmm LATEST AND NEW ISSUES. ..
i u" '0'“ 0" ° ' ° "‘m' 482 St II If D the liny "roinn.
:  gold blildilcii till: gllnr Ihookrkoa. Title  Reactive. 533 312::31‘Zfin‘ fig-n, we Hen-nit Boy Tuppon 608 gruilFi-DtfillerayatweciéVfgkyoil; or, Double Curve Dan’l
noon 0 or, mural. e,te ngl. .. . . .
z 8: i’dhyl. the GLrlP.milIt.eri fifziolglilzldllyloiéon Hand. BY T. C. "ARBAUG". 609 fiol‘lgklgfrlg?’m: wfeagogfiefli"; 0?. “"10 Litrhtnlnz’l
s 32 mi? :3 m or, ’oh‘ 3.3.5.321. a.?.éa'mn?i£ftiv'."'é?hp. gg gileklfidtgte rel-.5.“  T3; Bf uslpyflot 7:. one (Tim Skinner: the Gold Short; or. Tony snap on Gu-rd. By
' o-I, ,Ab d/t ‘ . e enmeor etvunr. ..araug.
1?: 3.331.”.- 3 :th); Yoll'h; glieculllfdrl.‘ a“ ("an C“, 4? Nighth- ale Nut? ulr, Tne Fore-t CI taint. 011 Bildud Barnacle, the Detective Herculeo: or, The Tnnle at
117 Gilt-Edged Dick. the Sport Detective 6 Dand luck: or, The Outlaws oi the rogon Troll. T..ble Mountain. By Lient. A. K. Sims.
ml cinnamon Ohlm the Girl Spon- 89 Kit I nreroot the Wood-Hawk- 612 Deadwood Dick Jr. In Detroit; or,'rumtng the 1.51..
125 Bonanza llill. Miner. 94 Midnight Jack or. The Boy Trapper. on suam By Edvard L. Wheel“
133 no“ nob the King of Boothlnclu. 100 Old Fronty, the ‘uide; or, The White Queen. 018 Bllly Blalml; or, The Skelewn’l Leflt'y. By P. S. Warns.
141 Solid Stamfthf Boy Road-Areal. 1:3 figwnlclmrlllea the wig? 1;!“qu u 014 :Vhiutllng JJueg‘h, the Detoctive’n A ; or. The Queer Com.
N Y k v u e . n- r.ior. 0 av Kiln . ' u _ o "a,
145 (gal-ails? erret. the cw or Detach"; or, 30!! Bobs 155 GM TI. 1. r,‘ was n"; M'T‘w Gm Ann". 615  In" , mo Chm of Chm“ Cydone; on“,
10‘! New York Nell the BOY-ml" Deitdin. 169 Tornado 0m: 0". nJ’lln Juli From Red Core. Heathen ineo’l h iuiou. By J. C. Cowdrlck.
171 Nab; luck offievadfi; or, The Siam. sum» 188 Ned Temple, the Border Bay. 313 The ocean lbetgctlve! or, The but Cruise 0! the Black
181 Wild rank, the Burknkill Hrnvo. 191i Arkanlaw; or, The Qu-wn oi Fate’s Revenge. Be," 5‘- neo. C, Jenn.
200 Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective. 207 Navajo Nick. the Boy Gold Hunter. 617 R81 h"flle “unhshot scout; 0,, The Rude" “d the
218 Fritz to the Front; or, The \‘entrlloquilt Hunter. 216 Contain Bullet; or, Lliiie Tonknot’n Crusade. Red Ride" of the Rio. By Col. Prentiu Inn-hum.
226 Snoozer the Boy Sharp: or, The Arab Detoctlvo. 281 Pluck! l’hill or. ROM, the Rat Jezebel. 618 peldwood Die , Jr. in Cincinnati; or, The Clincher
use Apollo nut, the mu Tonlndo. 241 mu Bravo; or, r... Routh ofthe Roch... “mm.” W Ed. L Wheeler.
240 0 clone Kit, the Young Gladiator. 255 Captain A oil.., "to King-Pin of Bowie. 819 The no Tramp Detective; anon“, Doubl. argpwnufls,
244 8- errn Ram, lhn Frontier Ferret. 261 The Duck- in Detective. 3‘. wm,  Punch
Mil linerra flam’n Secret; or, The Bloody Footprint; 279 Old \Vlnch or, The iillcknklll Delvondoel. 820 Little L|flhtn|ncll Lea‘ue; or, The Mum”. "(the Hunt
268 liner-nu Sam's Ford; or. The Angel 0! Bl Vista. 294 Dvnamllo Dan; or. The Bowie Blade of Cochetovo. 3,. John w , canon.
85! linen-a llam‘n Severn or. The Stolen Bri e. 80 ‘he Mountaln Detective: 0?. The Trigger BuBuny- 621 Truman James, the “Pemliar” Man; or, The Spoil"
278 Jumbo Joe the Nov Pntrul; or, The Rival Heirl. 816 0ch Eclipse. Trumn Card of Arizona. mupoiled. By A. C. Grimm.
277 Denver “oil the Detective Queen. 828 The Tell l’ardn or. Tile Terror oanko-Notioo- 622 Tex“. Tankcat)‘ Triad; or’q'h. Que" Am“, “ Tomb.
1‘ 281 Denver Doll": Victory. 836 Ill: Benson: or, The Queen of the Lil-no. “and, RV Lieut‘ A, K_ slum
2K5 Denver Doll": Decoy; or. Little Bill’s Bonn“. 845 Pltileu Matt: 0r, Red Thllnderbolt’l Secret. 623 Buck Bumblebee, the "mile". Hummer; or, The
291 Turk, the Boy Ferret. 856 final hum uml Pun-1|; or The Terrible Six. old Captnln‘e Moving Miracle. By Jo Pierce.
296 Denver Doll'n Drin; or. The Road Queen. 868 Velvet Foot, the indium Detective. 824 neadwooa Incl“ Jr. in Neva“; 0,, The had," 0.
99 A No. 1. the Dnlhinz Toll-leeb 8R6 Captain Cutlau: or, 'I he Bv-ccnneer’a Girl Foo. Pokerflne. 3‘. E_ L, Whaler.
808 'l.|za Jane the Girl Miner; or. the iron-Nerved Sport. 896 Rough Rob or, The l‘win Champions of Blue Blues. 625 chine“ h, "an, the Boy Twine" 0,, Th. Her-001 the
825 Kollcy. lliékev & 00.. the Detective. of Philadelphia. 411 The Siiken mono; or, The Role of Ranch Robin. Cnmn Hy J". E. Bldg", ,, B
:32 13"“- “Xih'éii‘l'tfhi?h":.3i33.§iii:ffD““°'"‘“" it: it‘i:."t:.:.‘.‘:° “mm- m... on 31.39.33 Ionm’lsritgifh" W" “5””  B?
889 K2333» Kit:- flacketl . 486 Phil Fla-h, t bNew York Fox. 327 1"”... fling: of Arkansas; or, The Woliln the Fold. By
848 Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood. 445 The City 1 am iron; or Red Rolfe’l Pinon- Chm" Mon“, Ready July 30,
858 Pint-Clout Fred, ill. Gent irom Gopher. 461 One A ulna-i. Fl'fty; or, 'i‘ho Lani. Man of Keno Bar. 698 Brnndway Bill ’a Dead Act; or, The League of the
865 Yrekn Jim. the Gold-Gatherer; or, The Lottery oi 470 Tile oy Shadow; or. Fall! Fox'n Hunt. Sm," Seven, By C. Cowdriclr. Rudy Auzuut 6.
. e 477 The Exoelnior sport; or, The Wuhington Spotter. 639 vmlet vmle, the Velvet Sport; or The Jubilee oiJocktown.
872 Yreka Jim’l Prize. 499 single R! ht. the One-Eyed Sport. 3‘, WM. 0_ mm“, Rum. Aug...” .,
37:: 11.1.0}. Ne.“ or, The Secret of Slab City. 502 Branded en. the Night Ferret- 630 neadwooa Dick. J r. in No Han I Land; or, Golconda,
:32 goolLKthi the gin]: or Kidnirgr. é: \‘illlni’n”; gargantuan.  Rmer wictg:hfiwhngfly Detective. we Ghdhwh By m L whoa". Ready Aug"; 90,
35 're'a ma 0 ersor e valo e on. er 0' co go.
889 B'Icycle lien; on, The Liiin of Lightning Lode.  3:35 andfial‘ctfil‘, tge l‘i‘ogeg‘Shndov". A New Issue Every Tueoday.
:00 iv'filt'i.limhfuigiiifivmi'b'mcun. 548 Dodgg: Diflkgs Dongle; or,.The Riv-1 Boy MVI- The 11.1!- Dilne Library ill" lllo by all now-dale“,an
410 lligh llat Harry. the Ben Boll Detociivo. 558 Dodcer Dick’n Desperate Cane- ..."F my, a, “M by M} on nod” «fix on“ “Ch.
426 San: Slabaidee. the _ r-Bov Detective. 568 Dodger Dick. ihe Boy V idocq. A»
“s gl-gcrflkslll’dtf‘sll. hriuto Detectives.  The  Emma L? AIS, 
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an Mk!- SI-o “'0 kalfl- .94 Li“. 0 Lon, the Street-Singer Detail". .8 mu. '"m
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